DOBD Collected Works of Erasmus: Literary and Educational Writings, 5 and 6 9781442676718

Table of contents :
Contents
Introduction
Panegyric for Archduke Philip of Austria / Panegyricus ad Philippum Austriae ducem
Praise of Folly / Moriae encomium
Julius Excluded from Heaven: A Dialogue / Dialogus Julius exclusus e coelis
The Education of a Christian Prince / Institutio principis christiani
A Complaint of Peace / Querela pads
The Ciceronian: A Dialogue on the Ideal Latin Style / Dialogus Ciceronianus
Notes
Works Frequently Cited
Short-Title Forms for Erasmus' Works
Index

Citation preview

C O L L E C T E D W O R K S OF E R A S M U S V O L U M E 27

Erasmus Charcoal drawing by Albrecht Dürer, 1520 Paris, The Louvre

COLLECTED WORKS OF

ERASMUS L I T E R A R Y AND E D U C A T I O N A L W R I T I N G S 5 PANEGYRICUS M O R I A / J U L I U S EXCLUSUS INSTITUTIO PRINCIPIS CHRISTIANI Q U E R E L A PACIS

edited by A.H.T. Levi

University of Toronto Press Toronto / Buffalo / London

The research and publication costs of the Collected Works of Erasmus are supported by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. The publication costs are also assisted by University of Toronto Press.

www.utppublishing.com © University of Toronto Press 1986 Toronto / Buffalo / London Printed in Canada Canadian Cataloguing in Publication Data Erasmus, Desiderius, d. 1536. [Works] Collected works of Erasmus Partial contents: v. 27. Literary and educational writings, 5. Panegyricus. Moria. Julius exclusus. Institutio principis christiani. Querela pacis. - v. 28. Literary and educational writings, 6. Ciceronianus. Notes. Index. ISBN 0-8020-5602-4 (v. 27-28) 1. Erasmus, Desiderius, d. 1536. 1. Title. II. Title: Collected works of Erasmus. PA8500 1974 876'.04 C74-6326-X rev.

Collected Works of Erasmus The aim of the Collected Works of Erasmus is to make available an accurate, readable English text of Erasmus' correspondence and his other principal writings. The edition is planned and directed by an Editorial Board, an Executive Committee, and an Advisory Committee.

E D I T O R I A L BOARD

Peter G. Bietenholz, University of Saskatchewan Alexander Dalzell, University of Toronto Anthony T. Grafton, Princeton University Paul F. Grendler, University of Toronto James K. McConica, University of Toronto, Chairman Erika Rummel, Executive Assistant

Robert D. Sider, Dickinson College J.K. Sowards, Wichita State University G.M. Story, Memorial University of Newfoundland Craig R. Thompson, University of Pennsylvania

EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE

Peter G. Bietenholz, University of Saskatchewan Harald Bohne, University of Toronto Press Alexander Dalzell, University of Toronto Anthony T. Grafton, Princeton University Paul F. Grendler, University of Toronto James K. McConica, University of Toronto Ian Montagnes, University of Toronto Press R.J. Schoeck, University of Colorado R.M. Schoeffel, University of Toronto Press, Chairman Robert D. Sider, Dickinson College J.K. Sowards, Wichita State University G.M. Story, Memorial University of Newfoundland Craig R. Thompson, University of Pennsylvania Prudence Tracy, University of Toronto Press

A D V I S O R Y COMMITTEE

Danilo Aguzzi-Barbagli, University of British Columbia C.M. Bruehl, Koninklijke Nederlandse Akademie van Wetenschappen Maria Cytowska, University of Warsaw O.B. Hardison jr, Georgetown University Otto Herding, Universität Freiburg Jozef IJsewijn, Katholieke Universiteit Leuven Robert M. Kingdon, University of Wisconsin Paul Oskar Kristeller, Columbia University Maurice Lebel, Université Laval Jean-Claude Margolin, Centre d'études supérieures de la Renaissance de Tours Bruce M. Metzger, Princeton Theological Seminary Clarence H. Miller, St Louis University Heiko A. Oberman, University of Arizona Margaret Mann Phillips, University of London John Rowlands, British Museum J.S.G. Simmons, Oxford University John Tedeschi, University of Wisconsin J.B. Trapp, Warburg Institute

Contents

VOLUME 27

Introduction by A.H.T. Levi ix

Panegyric for Archduke Philip of Austria Panegyricus ad Philippum Austriae ducem translated and annotated by Betty Radice 1 Praise of Folly / Moriae encomium translated and annotated by Betty Radice 77 Julius Excluded from Heaven: A Dialogue / Dialogus Julius exclusus e coelis translated and annotated by Michael J. Heath 155 The Education of a Christian Prince / Institutio principis christiani translated and annotated by Neil M. Cheshire and Michael J. Heath 199 A Complaint of Peace / Querela pads translated and annotated by Betty Radice 289

V O L U M E 28

The Ciceronian: A Dialogue on the Ideal Latin Style / Dialogus Ciceronianus translated and annotated by Betty I. Knott 323 Notes 449 Works Frequently Cited 606 Short-Title Forms for Erasmus' Works 609 Index 613

Introduction

Any edition of Erasmus' works must classify them by grouping them together in volumes. The process can be misleading. Erasmus so often reworked so much of what he wrote that the ideal year-by-year edition, like that produced by P. Laumonier for Ronsard,1 would not only jumble letters with a host of other texts, themselves disparate, but would also need to print at least five of the ten editions of the Adages issued during Erasmus' lifetime2 and perhaps as many as eight texts of the Praise of Folly.3 The difficulty in the classification lies in the overlap between genres. It is impossible to allocate individual letters, works, prefaces, translations, and editions into watertight compartments. The letters, manifestos, and satires, the works of spiritual exhortation, theological controversy, and classical learning, the editions, the pedagogical and literary works, and the attempts to disseminate classical culture and evangelical religion are all part of a unified opus groping towards, and finally integrated in pursuing, a view of human experience and potential. This view is seriously Christian, humane, and humanist: while on the whole Erasmus was gloomy about Europe's political prospects, he was also thoroughly optimistic about man's power of autonomous self-determination and the radical possibility that, in the best circumstances envisageable, human instinct may even be trusted as a guide to virtue. The danger of the classification imposed by an arrangement of the works into volumes is that the way in which Erasmus' view was slowly and hesitantly forged in uncertain reaction to all the mental, physical, and political events which constrained and stimulated him becomes obscured. The fundamental unity of the whole opus means that there must be repetition in the introduction and notes to the various volumes, as each work is in turn related to all the others. The two volumes of CWE to which this is the introduction contain six works with dates of publication spanning virtually the whole of Erasmus' maturity: from 1504, when he was about thirty-five, to 1528, when he must at any rate have been approaching sixty.4 It is difficult,

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therefore, to avoid the need to interpret the fundamental aims of the whole opus precisely in order to make clear the way in which these six works were elaborated as a unified response to real personal, cultural, religious, and political situations. The difficulties of editing the Erasmian opus are mitigated, however, by Erasmus' own attempts to classify the corpus of his writings, as explained in his letter of 1523-4 to Johann von Botzheim, complemented by that of 15 March 1530 to Hector Boece.5 ASD tries to respect the Erasmian or dines, although it does diverge from them. Although CWE has found itself for practical reasons contrained to adopt a slightly freer arrangement, it still builds on the original suggestions of Erasmus himself, and so at any rate to some extent avoids destroying the unity of the corpus by arbitrarily allocating its constituent elements to pigeon-holes conceived to suit the convenience and fragmented interests of modern readers. If editing the corpus in a series of volumes almost necessarily obscures its development and its unity, translating the texts is equally bound partially to deprive them of their subtlety and nuance. Erasmus was a brilliant Latin stylist. He wrote rapidly, but not so carelessly as he boasted (Ep 3043:35-7) and although his style developed,6 becoming generally more succinct and forceful, he never completely abandoned the rhetorical flourishes which characterize many of the earlier works, and he never lost his marvellous ear for prose rhythms. Neither the flourishes nor the rhythms are easy to convey in English. Above all, however, the difficulty lies in the way in which Erasmus can establish and dissolve his literary registers at will and without warning by the use of a diminutive, a succession of superlatives, a quotation, an allusion, a newly coined Greek word, a sudden personal aside, a touch of whimsy, sarcasm, or a show of affection. Sometimes he writes with his tongue in his cheek; sometimes he is ringingly rhetorical, sometimes deadly serious. He can be sarcastic, ironic, or even bored. The ways these changes of register are conveyed to the reader were developed by Erasmus into a series of rhetorical tricks. The reader is expected automatically to recognize whimsy, irony, sarcasm, asides, intimacies, and pomposities like new Greek coinages. Erasmus often writes on more than one level at once, communicating with one sentence different things to different people while leaving everybody to wonder just how much he really is insinuating.7 In addition by adopting a classical idiom, at first for aesthetic and then for theological reasons, he can half-teasingly set aside the terminology developed by the scholastics over the millenium since Augustine by the use of which it was possible seriously to discuss the theology of grace. He professed to regard scholastic Latin as barbarous, but also came to see it as dangerously precise. There was after all no known way in which it

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was possible in the early sixteenth century to reconcile free will, in the sense of an autonomous power of spiritual self-determination in man, with a non-Pelagian theology of grace.8 The emptier rhetorical works translate less well than the sharper satirical pieces, but even the translators of the satires have to follow both the sinuosities of thought and the multiple and constantly changing registers (particularly controverted, for instance, in the final section of the Praise of Folly), and can accurately render the sense only if they are aware of Erasmus' aims and moods, the political situation, and how the religious and other conflicts of his age seemed to him to be developing and to be capable of being influenced by his own attitudes and utterances. Considerations such as these have brought about minor modifications of the original CWE norms. All the translations have been the subject of line-by-line scrutiny by at least four, and sometimes more, other scholars and also by myself. Yet they are not committee translations. Each translator has been left free to accept or to reject the sheaves of often helpful comments they have been sent, so that the translations would retain their own unity of style and idiom. So important did this unity appear that some of the translators of the works have themselves translated the prefatory letters rather than adopt the translation from the CWE volumes devoted to the letters. Of the six texts translated here, all except the Julius have now appeared in ASD critical editions, to whose texts, notes, and introductions the CWE volumes are heavily indebted. The translations, even if begun before the appearance of the relevant ASD volume, have now been carefully checked against the critical texts. A special note of thanks is due to Professors Otto Herding and Clarence Miller, as also to the ASD editors, for allowing us to use proof copies of the ASD texts, introductions, and notes before they became publicly available.9 The six works in these two volumes comprise what are now normally regarded as the principal satires composed on themes independent of one another, the Praise of Folly, the Julius exclusus (whose Erasmian authorship is cogently argued in the translator's introduction), and the Ciceronianus, together with the three most important of the other works on related themes proposed by Erasmus in 1523-4 for inclusion in a volume of his writings to do with human behaviour, 'quae faciunt ad morum institutionem,' the Panegyricus, the Institutio principis christiani, and the Querimonia pads (now generally known as the Querela pads).10 The other works firmly proposed in 1523-4 for inclusion in the same volume were the Plutarch translations, the Praise of Folly, the De regno of Isocrates, the Consolatio de morte filii, the dialogue Charontis et Alastoris, omitted in the 1530 letter because by then it had appeared in the Colloquia as 'Charon,' the Carmen de senectute, the Paraenesis

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ad Adolphum, the De mortesubita, and the edition of Cicero's De officiis. In the 1530 catalogue the Ciceronianus was placed in the first ordo of volumes 'qui spectant ad institutionem literarum/11 Not all the six texts are satires in any modern sense, although the Ciceronianus would today be regarded as a satirical dialogue (as is the Julius, to whose authorship Erasmus never admitted). Essentially the texts included here comprise the four most important works from the 1530 ordo of 'moralia' together with the two most important independent satires, the Julius and the Ciceronianus. There is of course also a great deal of satire in some of the other works, notably the Adages and the Colloquies. They are grouped together in these two volumes of CWE because all sixteenth-century moral writing could be, and was, regarded as satire. In the sixteenth century 'satire' did not imply irony. The term was not in general use, and it caused much confusion when it was introduced. What it came to cover was any sort of comment on personal or social behaviour or values. In this sense of the word More's Platonic Utopia is a satire on actual societies which should have been more Christian than they were, as is the Théléme episode in Rabelais' Gargantua. At first the term merely preserved the Latin sense of medley, so that in 1548 Thomas Sebillet's Art poétique, summing up the poetic usage of half a century of rhétoriqueur poets in France, could identify satire with the 'variété inconstante des non cohérens propos' whose subject was 'les vices de chacun' and which was characterized by the 'saut du coq a 1'asne.' Sebillet was trying to codify the usage of Marot, who, drawing on an old French proverb, had called four of his short pieces addressed to Lyon Jamet 'coqs-a-1'âne/ no doubt deliberately affecting a lack of logical organization to disguise a fundamental boldness of thought. Marot's poems were much admired and imitated. In 1549, however, Du Bellay's Deffense et illustration de la langue francoyse took firm exception to Sebillet's identification of the 'coq-à-1'âine' with the classical genre of satire whose function, he thought, was to 'taxer modestement les vices de ton terns, et pardonner aux noms des personnes vicieuses.' In other words, Du Bellay insisted on a general preoccupation with social values and excluded personal invective, but otherwise moved the meaning of satire nearer to the Greek street-sermons called diatribes from which the Latin sermo or satura developed, and which, for instance, Erasmus used for the title of his De libero arbitrio in 1524. Du Bellay, concerned to claim for the incipient 'brigade' of poets later to be known as La Pleiade as much of a monopoly as possible of the neoclassical reaction to earlier poetry in sixteenth-century France, achieved a considerable confusion of meanings for the term satire. Just how confused the meaning of the term became is perhaps best illustrated by the despairing attempt to define it added by the printer of the

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Satyre Menippée in 1594. He added a printer's 'discours' to the second edition of the famous anti-League pamphlet in that year, and is clearly defeated in his attempt to justify the title. He was not helped by the arbitrary orthography of Renaissance French. For him 'le mot de satyre' could signify three different things. It could mean: (1) any poem commenting on public or private vices, like those of Lucilius, Horace, Juvenal or Persius; or (2) anything 'filled with different things and argument' written in mixed verse and prose; (3) the name is Greek and comes from public performances where men disguised as satyrs were presented as slightly mad demigods who could attack anyone or anything.12 In antiquity the satura had been the only specifically Roman literary genre, although it developed from the Greek diatribe. Written either in verse or in verse mingled with prose, it was 'intended to improve society by mocking its anomalies, and marked by spontaneity, topicality, ironic wit, indecent humour, colloquial language, constant intrusions of the author's personality, and incessant variety of tone and style.'13 The printer of the Menippée was therefore not too far out. He does however clearly conflate the idea of an attack on public or private behaviour with the particular literary form known to his century as the 'coq-à-1'âne' and with the indecent and obscene comments of the satyr plays. By the end of the sixteenth century the term satire therefore came to cover the whole range of comment on values and behaviour, from a tentative exploration of possible ways of organizing society to the depiction of an ideal prince, and from an attack on war or on flattery to the most robust forms of private invective. The six texts here presented are therefore all satirical in the sixteenth-century meaning of the term, and they represent even in the modern sense Erasmus' best satirical writing outside the Adages and the Colloquia.14 The earliest text in these volumes is the Panegyricus, delivered on 6 January 1504 and printed at Antwerp by Dirk Martens under the author's supervision in February, with a dedicatory letter to Nicolas Ruistre, bishop of Arras (Ep 179), a complimentary letter to Jean Desmarez (Ep 180), and a poem. It was reprinted with minor revisions by Josse Bade in Paris some time later than December 1507, and thereafter with further revisions by Froben at Basel together with the Institutio principis christiani in 1516, 1518, and 1519. There were other Froben editions, a Martens edition at Louvain with the Institutio in 1516, an edition by Aldus at Venice in 1518 in which the Panegyricus was preceded by the Querela pads, and a Florentine edition of 1519. The Panegyricus also appeared in a selection of Panegyrici veteres selected by Beatus Rhenanus and published by Froben in 1520. The publishing history shows Erasmus' continuing interest in what was a hack piece, parts of which he would no doubt gladly have forgotten about, for

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what it included about the proper use of political power by a Christian prince and about the over-riding duty of a Christian prince to work for peace and justice. Typically enough, Erasmus found distraction from the boredom and distaste of having to write a court piece, with little information to pad out, by including serious reflections about the implications for princes and polity of his strong evangelical convictions. Reacting to later political situations, he further elaborated these feelings in the Institutio and the Querela, with which he then wished the Panegyricus to be associated. The three works pinpoint three stages in the development of Erasmus' reaction to the military and political struggles he encountered. The essential information about the composition of the text, its literary genre, its derivation from Pliny's panegyric of the emperor Trajan, and its political circumstances is given in the translator's introduction.15 Erasmus was ambitious as well as hard up. The invitation to celebrate the return of Philip of Burgundy from his journey to Spain was not only potentially lucrative, but also good for his prestige. The difficulty was the insurmountable need for the obsequious deployment of the rhetoric of flattery, although Erasmus, almost above all others, was sensitive to the evils wrought by the flattery of princes in the courts of Europe. Pliny's task, he complains, was easier, since Trajan's achievements were great. For his part he has to have recourse to 'commonplaces' and 'rather difficult digressions.' He must ask his readers 'to wink at many things' (connivere ad multa): 1 can see for myself some gaps that still remain, some things far-fetched, some additions and disturbance of the natural order, some over-ripe language, and the absence of anything really finished or polished.' He feels the right to ask for support in his defence from Desmarez, the public orator of the University of Louvain who has urged him to write the Panegyricus, and with whom he had stayed during its composition (see Ep 180:170-1, 173-4, 182-5, 188-98). Erasmus was clearly embarrassed. He was impregnated with the spirit of the devotio moderna, had spent three years at's Hertogenbosch with the Brethren of the Common Life, and remained devoted to their patron St Jerome, whose letters he was to edit. In the priory of the Augustinian canons at Steyn, which he entered in 1487, he is said to have been exempted from the more ascetic parts of the rule.16 His humanist enthusiasms were, however, frustrated and were not to be wholly integrated with his religious vision at least until the confident period in the middle of the second decade of the sixteenth century. Ordained by the bishop of Utrecht in 1492, Erasmus seems to have contemplated the career of an ecclesiastical diplomat and joined the entourage of Hendrik van Bergen, bishop of Cambrai, partly in the hope of accompanying him to Italy.

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The journey was cancelled and Erasmus was released in 1495 to study in Paris at the College de Montaigu, recently reformed by Standonck and linked in spirit with the Brethren of the Common Life. Erasmus, who was later to give lessons, wrote, and solicited patronage, notably from Anna van Borssele, the lady of Veere, for whom his friend Jacob Batt was now working. He fell ill early in 1497, broke down, regarded himself as cured by the intercession of Ste Geneviève (Ep 50), and returned briefly to Holland. He was then encouraged to come back to Paris, where he took private lodgings and made contact with the small community of Parisian humanists, which notably included the quarrelsome Andrelini and Gaguin, the General of the Trinitarians and a dedicated disciple of the Italian Neoplatonist Marsilio Ficino. His patrons provided warm encouragement but little money. Life in 1498 was bleak (Epp 74 and 75). Then in 1499 came, at the invitation of one of his pupils, Lord Mountjoy, the first visit to England. Erasmus clearly enjoyed it. He hunted with Mountjoy and met Grocyn, Linacre, Latimer, Colet, and More, who presented him to the nine-year-old prince one day to become Henry viii. We still know too little about this period in Erasmus' life. He lived for a while in the Oxford house of the Augustinian order to which he belonged. He had written some poems. The first slender volume of Adages was ready for printing. Colet, about his own age, welcomed him as a poet, but it seems probable that Erasmus told the truth when he wrote later that he had never intended to devote himself wholly to profane letters (Ep 108:108-115). It seems probable, too, that if Colet encouraged Erasmus to work on the New Testament, he also imbued him with a hatred of war, fired him with enthusiasm for Florentine Neoplatonism, and acted for him as spiritual director, as he must also have done for More. The evidence is unhappily scant, but the interpretation of Erasmus' relationship with Colet and More in the first decade of the sixteenth century powerfully helps to determine the light in which the principal satires must be regarded. What evidence there is suggests that Colet strongly influenced them both, although commentators too often mask the essential differences between More, with the strong undercurrent of violence in his personality and his later need to commit himself to self-destructive political activity in a situation which he might have miscalculated but must have known to be dangerous, and Erasmus, whose own endeavour was largely directed towards the avoidance of overt political commitment in the interests of reconciliation, who was later to deplore More's entry into an active political career, and in whose armoury of weapons ironic satire was to be preferred to the polemic and invective used by More.17 In the autumn of 1499 the close friendship between Erasmus and More

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had not yet blossomed. Colet was lecturing at Oxford on the Pauline Epistles and was in the full flood of his Neoplatonist enthusiasm.18 He did not know Greek and was a moralist almost before he was theologian. We have some account of his theological conversations with Erasmus (Epp 108, 109, 111). Colet wished to exploit Erasmus' talents in the task of developing an evangelical theology, and Erasmus certainly regarded Colet, who had made the Italian journey, as his master, although Erasmus disagreed with him about the nature of Christ's agony and Colet's preference for Scotus over Thomas Aquinas and what he no doubt perceived as the naturalistic tendencies of the Thomist system.19 Erasmus resisted Colet's invitation to stay on in Oxford and, after a few weeks in London, left for Paris on 27 January 1500 with the need to acquire more Greek in the forefront of his mind (see eg Ep 138:49-54). Colet and More had both told him he could take with him the twenty pounds he had saved from gifts and on which he was counting to support himself, but eighteen pounds were confiscated at Dover. Colet was himself to leave Oxford, first to be vicar of Stepney, then to be prebendary of St Paul's, and finally dean, before founding his famous school on receipt of his inheritance in 1505. A letter from More of October 1504 strongly suggests that Colet directed him through the period during which, while an active barrister and reader at Furnivall's Inn, More was testing his vocation at the London Charterhouse. He was to marry in 1505. In 1504, no doubt also prompted by Colet, he had published his translation of the life of Pico della Mirandola with selections from his writings, including the rules Erasmus was to draw on for the Enchiridion. Erasmus meanwhile travelled via Holland to Paris, escaping to Orleans when the plague emptied the city. He returned to Paris towards the end of 1500, but the plague broke out again, and in the spring of 1501 Erasmus fled once more, this time to Anna van Borssele's castle at Tournehem. By the autumn of 1502 Erasmus was at Louvain, where he stayed, for the most part, until his return to Paris late in 1504 after seeing the Panegyricus through the press. A series of letters to Batt late in 1501 (Epp 128, 129:36-40, 139, 146) begs him with increasing urgency, but in vain, to obtain money from Anna van Borssele, to whose children Batt was now tutor. The marquise had, however, remarried and nothing was forthcoming. By fleeing to Orleans Erasmus had cut himself off from both his books and his income. Patronage from Hendrik van Bergen had dried up and from other sources was scant. Erasmus sent books to England for sale, no doubt also hoping for support from Mountjoy (Ep 129:60-9), received something from Augustin Vincent (Ep 133:19-20), but complained continually of poverty, threatening to give

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up his life of scholarship (Ep 139:107-15), although still hoping to scrape together enough to buy necessary books and perhaps get to Bologna. It was in 1501 while staying with Batt that Erasmus began the Enchiridion, finished at nearby St Omer under the influence of Jean Vitrier, prior of St Bertin, where Erasmus stayed for some months later in 1501 and again in 1502. It was undoubtedly the aggressively reformatory Vitrier who introduced Erasmus to Origen, on whom he drew extensively for the Enchiridion,20 written 'by chance' at the request of a pious woman fearing for the salvation of her philandering husband who was a friend of Batt and who despised all theologians except Erasmus (Allen 119-20). From the opening of the prefatory letter to Paul Volz for the 1518 edition (Ep 858), Erasmus does not seem to have had much success with the husband. Although Dirk Martens must have paid something for the book, published in the Lucubratiunculae on 15 February 1503, and although in the end, to Erasmus' surprise, the book became saleable (Allen 1 20:13), he was still without resources and bitter at the nagging need to solicit patronage. It is a measure of his dedication to Greek New Testament studies and the desire to obtain his doctorate in scholastic theology at Bologna, or if necessary Paris, that he turned down the offer of public lectures in Louvain in the late summer of 1502, preferring the more uncertain support he might gain by dedicating works to the great (Epp 171 and 172). Late in 1503 Nicolas Ruistre, chancellor of Louvain university as well as bishop of Arras, gave him ten gold pieces for the three declamations of Libanius (Ep 78), and the opportunity to deliver the Panegyricus offered a chance of patronage not to be missed. The work, when published, was dedicated to Ruistre. The problem, as Otto Herding points out in his introduction to the ASD edition, is to know why Erasmus refused to allow the Panegyricus to sink into oblivion after Philip's death in 1506. Professor Herding is certainly right in supposing that, although Erasmus defends himself more sharply against those who, accusing him of flattery, 'cast an aspersion on my character' than against those whose criticisms of the work is merely technical and 'assails only my intelligence and does not stain my reputation as well' (Ep 180:32-42), his real defence is that he is not offering his oration 'merely to him who is its occasion, but also to the multitude in whose hearing it is pronounced.' Not only does it matter to the state that its prince should be highly regarded, but it is important for posterity that the qualities of the ideal ruler should be established (Ep 180:79-95). What remains important to Erasmus is the portrait of the ideal Christian prince and the praise of the pursuit of peace, leading through the comparisons of the lesser glories of conquest with the greater glories of peace, and of the evils of war with the Christian duty of mercy, to the celebration of the world as one nation and

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one family in Christ. The state should 'come as near as possible to being a reflection of the celestial city,' and The chief glory of the Christian prince, who ought never to take his eyes off his model, should be to cherish, to honour, and to extend with all his might and power that which Christ, the prince of princes, left among us to be the best and greatest possible thing: namely, peace,'21 All war fought between Christians is 'civil war, a family fight, or even self-destruction.' The problem of the proper Christian attitude towards the Turks is developed only later, in the Institutio. There is a political reference in the Panegyricus, as in the Institutio. Erasmus, at the suggestion of Desmarez, praises Francois de Busleyden, archbishop of Besangon and Philip's former tutor (Ep 158:67n, who died on the Spanish journey and who, had he lived, would have been translated to the see of Cambrai and elevated to the cardinalate. He led the protagonists in Holland of a French alliance. On the other hand, Erasmus does not mention Hendrik van Bergen, Philip's chancellor and his own former patron (Ep 49 introduction) who quarrelled with Busleyden in Spain and was sent back. He died shortly after his return home. Indeed Erasmus is bitter at the mere six florins he received for three Latin epigraphs and one Greek one for his former benefactor (Ep 178:54-6). For some reason the printed text also omits the reference to Floris van Egmond which Erasmus had earlier intended to include (Ep 178:48-52). The Panegyricus certainly therefore includes incidental undertones of the political feud in Philip's entourage. They should not be exaggerated, however, any more than should the Christian nature of the princely ideal put forward, which was not yet purged of secular, political, and military values. Erasmus' thought had yet to undergo the development that is apparent from the Institutio, the Querela pads, the letter to Antoon van Bergen of 1514 (Ep 288), and the 1515 adage Dulce bellum inexpertis. The composition of the Panegyricus was hard work. Sensitive to the charge of empty flattery, Erasmus not only works his considerations on the exercise of power into his portrait of the ideal prince and his praise of peace, but he also quotes in the letter to Desmarez of February 1504 a list of classical precedents and rational justifications for his undertaking, adducing the example of Paul himself in the use of 'this device of correcting while praising,' while 'Plato and the Stoics, at least, will permit the wise man to tell a lie in order to do good' (Ep 180:63-4, 71-2). The self-justification continues in a cascade of plausible considerations. What is wrong is to praise disgraceful deeds. Erasmus complains to Willem Hermans, his childhood friend at Deventer and later companion at Steyn, that he was 'inadequately informed of the facts' (Ep 178:12), and such as he could reliably ascertain were 'stitched in' to the existing text, 'extempore at that' as he wrote to Desmarez (Ep 180:153-68).

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He attached importance to the text, however, modifying it for the Froben 1516 edition, when he had just written the Institutio, by expanding the marginal notes and identifications, and giving a clearer idea of the sources and formal structure of the work. The 1529 Vidua Christiana goes so far as to claim that the Panegyricus lays down evangelical principles for the administration of the state which supplement the doctrine of Augustine himself. As he looked back upon it in old age, the Panegyricus appeared to Erasmus to have been an important beginning. By December 1504 Erasmus was back in Paris, staying with Christopher Fisher, an English papal diplomat, to whom in 1505 he dedicated his edition of Valla's critical notes on the New Testament, which he had discovered the preceding summer (Ep 182). By late summer of 1505 he was in England again, based with Mountjoy, ardently pursuing, and satisfied with, his Greek studies. He translated two plays of Euripides and, with More, some of Lucian's dialogues into Latin, went to Cambridge for part of the academic year 1505-6, and had an opportunity at last to travel to Italy. He went as a companion to the two sons of Henry vii's physician, Giovanni Boerio, leaving in June 1506. What he sought from Italy is not likely to have been the Greek that Grocyn, Linacre, and Latimer learned there, since he was now well enough advanced. It may have been the spiritual stimulation found by Colet, but it is most likely to have been the riches of the Italian libraries and the chance of patronage while he pursued his scholarly career (but see Ep 809:124-6). Italy was a disappointment. Erasmus took his doctorate at Turin, which lacked the prestige of the graduate university of Bologna, watched Julius ii, the unnamed warrior-pope of the Praise of Folly, walk into Bologna at the head of his troops on 11 November 1506, after his party had had to retreat to Florence in order to avoid the siege, saw the extortionate taxation of the poor in the reconquered papal territory,22 introduced himself to Aldus in Venice, and stayed with him from late 1507, when his duties with the Boerio boys were finally discharged. A tentative letter from Bologna on 28 October 1507 (Ep 207) expressed surprise that Aldus had not yet printed the Greek New Testament, so that Erasmus' Novum instrumentum cannot yet have been a firm project. He also offered to have his translations from Euripides printed at his own expense, hoping rather forlornly to make a profit from the sale of copies. He saw a newly enlarged edition of the Adages through the famous Aldine press in 1508, although the frugality of Aldus' household, where mealtime conversation was in Greek and where Erasmus made friends with his later critic Girolamo Aleandro, upset him. He moved with a new young pupil, Alexander Stewart, illegitimate son of James iv of Scotland and archbishop of St Andrews, whom he met in Padua, to Rome. There he made

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new friends, including the future Leo x, but the corruption and the sycophancy of the papal court, the clergy's greed, and its neglect of its pastoral duties all depressed him. Alexander returned to Scotland in May 1509 to be killed in 1513 with his father at Flodden. Erasmus was tempted by the libraries and the scholars to stay in Rome, where the post of apostolic penitentiary and the prospect of further preferment had been offered. But Henry vii died on 21 April 1509, and in May Erasmus received the offer of a benefice, a capital sum, and travelling expenses from Mountjoy and William Warham, archbishop of Canterbury, if he would finally return to England, where he had been happiest, where he had so many friends, and where he could expect much from Mountjoy's old pupil, the new king, Henry viii. After a lengthy interview with Cardinal Grimani (Allen Ep 2465:1-55), Erasmus set out for England, probably in mid-July, travelling via Bologna to Constance, Strasbourg, and Antwerp before crossing the channel to stay at Bucklersbury with More, who now had four children. On the way he meditated on his mock encomium in praise of folly, later to become his most famous work, the Moriae encomium, the praise, that is, both of folly and of More, transliterated from Moria, the Greek for folly. On arrival at More's house, Erasmus tells us he spent seven days writing the Praise of Folly (Ep 337:143 and Adagia II ii 40), although we do not know how much of it, since it was clearly rewritten, and doubtless augmented, for publication in 1511, as again subsequently for at any rate the 1514 and 1516 editions. It may be that what was written at More's house was not intended for publication and was no more than the early pages (ASD IV-3 1-654) with their gay Lucianic banter and their perfect unity of tone. Perhaps Erasmus wrote more than the first quarter in that week of 1509, but we should not assume that the first quick draft, a shared joke playing on his intimate friendship with his host, implicitly alluding to their collaboration in translating Lucian, to the medieval feast of fools, and to the popular mock sermon, maintained a light-hearted unity of tone which is already fractured in the more elaborate and subtle version published in 1511, in which the first section extends structurally to the praise of the ignorant and the mad (ASD IV-3 1184). Here the tone becomes graver and Folly's declamation begins t lose consistency. The satire as we now have it is about one-seventh longer than it was in 1511, but the first section underwent no more than cosmetic modifications. Only single words or short phrases were added. Even in 1511, however, the tone and mood are in tension with the tripartite structure of the satire, in which Folly first provides in her mock sermon the illusions which make life pleasant, then proceeds to a satire of classes and professions (1185-2855), and concludes with an elaboration of Pauline spirituality based

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on the paradox of Christian folly of the cross (1856-2276).23 In none of the three structural parts of the satire was there complete unity of tone either in 1511 or subsequently.24 That the work was elaborated between its first draft in 1509 and its first edition in 1511 is confirmed by the certainly erroneous date 'From the country, June 1508' added to the introductory letter to More. The year 1508 was added for the first time in the Froben edition of July 1522 and must be wrong, because until early July 1509 Erasmus was in Rome. CWE dates Ep 222 Paris 1511, but Professor Miller argues cogently that the letter at any rate purports to have been written in England, and probably was, since the Paris printer had a copy of it when the Folly was first published, which was almost certainly early in July 1511, so that the prefatory letter cannot have been written specifically for the unauthorized first edition. The probability is that Erasmus reworked the satire and added the prefatory letter somewhere in England in June 1510, and that thereafter often faulty manuscripts circulated until the first printing (see ASD IV-3 15). Froben's mistake may derive from a misreading of More's letter to Dorp of 1515, which appears to refer to the appearance of Folly seven years previously, although 'seven' may be a manuscript misreading. Folly seems certainly to have been published in Paris by Gilles de Gourmont from manuscript in July 1511, with the same sheets used by Jean Petit in the same month. Erasmus claimed that these editions were set from faulty and incomplete copy (Ep 337:146). They were certainly full of errors, and even the 'errata' were erroneous. There were further printings in Strasbourg and Antwerp before the first authorized edition by Josse Bade in July 1512. The work is still essentially a mock encomium, ironically elaborated by being put into the mouth of Folly herself, who can therefore in praising herself be thought guilty of the blinding self-love she castigates in others (as in Plutarch's moral writings) even when she is clearly talking sense. Erasmus had created a powerful weapon of insinuation and can always shelter behind the pretence that Folly's views are necessarily foolish. Professor Miller has shown that Erasmus tries to iron out some of the inconsistencies in Folly's attitudes in later editions (ASD IV-3 32-3). But banter turns into bitter satire without warning and only a very careful analysis of the literary registers, which itself requires a profound knowledge of the mental world of early sixteenth-century humanists, can possibly establish how seriously Erasmus intends us to take Folly's various utterances, how cleverly he arranges to insinuate without stating, and how he contrives to give Folly's more dangerous innuendoes a safe meaning at a different level to cover up. Does the final praise of Christian folly, which is clearly serious, contain distorting elements of literary convention? Yes, but it remains

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serious none the less. Erasmus is a very complex author and a text reworked as often as the Folly cannot easily be deciphered by readers unaware of exactly what was happening to Erasmus at the various dates at which he first wrote it, then added to it, and finally provided Listrius with annotative material for it. This layer-on-layer composition lasted over Erasmus' most fertile six or seven years of literary composition. The resulting text suffers from shifts of tone and even attitude. It exults in deliberate ambiguity and in the end communicates its message without ever allowing that message to be pinned down. Erasmus liked to cover his escape routes. In Folly he is clearly committed only to opposing what is obviously superstitious, irreligious, or bellicose. The rest is innuendo. In 1511, and much more openly in 1514 after Julius II had died, Erasmus was sure that human and Christian perfection had to be intrinsic to moral stature and could not consist in external and apparently arbitrary practices, works, and beliefs. He knew that the cause of evangelical Christianity could not be served by the territorial aggrandizement of the papal estates, the amassing of ecclesiastical wealth, or the granting of indulgences, which seemed, like chantry bequests, to imply that the eternal fate of the individual Christian could depend on something other than interior conversion. He was single-mindedly determined to propagate an evangelical Christianity which in 1511 he had not yet integrated with his classical humanism, although he had by then understood the importance of undermining the arbitrary religion of ecclesiastical authority by publishing the Greek New Testament. By doing so he could remain impeccably orthodox and at the same time destroy the reliance of the establishment on the Vulgate and with it the establishment's authority, even if it meant using few manuscripts and translating a verse or two of the Vulgate into Greek. Folly does not yet represent the maturity of Erasmus' thought or the integration of its constituent elements. If its tone is uncertain, it is also minatory. It concentrates, after the fun and the banter, on bitterly attacking what is clearly wrong. Leo x liked it. Thomas More leapt to its defence. But perceptive theologians saw the threat it contained, and Erasmus straightfacedly attempted to quieten their quite justified alarm. For all its apparent frivolity, and for all the smoke screen put up to hide it, Folly is a very radical work. Folly's attacks on superstition, monastic abuse, and scholastic quibbling, sunk into a list of more acceptable human follies and culminating in an overtly and even fashionably Neoplatonist version of Pauline spirituality, masked a programme too radical to be articulated yet in conceptual terms.25 The reform Folly presaged was conceived negatively, as an attack on abuse, before it became a positive programme. In 1511, differently in 1514, and differently again in 1516, Folly was an amusingly

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camouflaged but powerful flysheet warning the alert of a disturbing but necessary programme yet to be formulated. Folly's elaborately ironic recourse to classical humanism was the negative side of the manifesto. The Novum instrumentum of 1516 launched the first real offensive, give or take what Erasmus added to the 1515 Adages. So much is clear from the opposition which built up against Erasmus from 1513,26 and from Maarten van Dorp's letter of about September 1514 (Ep 304), much more concerned to prevent his edition of the New Testament than to stop any re-edition of Folly, from Erasmus' reply to Dorp in 1515 (Ep 337), and from More's letter to Dorp of the same year (Rogers Ep 15). In the same year Froben's edition of the Folly included Listrius' commentary for the first time. Listrius had been a pupil of Desmarez, had Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, and was a doctor of medicine and rector of a school at Zwolle founded by the Brethren of the Common Life. His commentary was elaborated from material supplied and partly written up by Erasmus himself (Ep 2615:171-81). Professor Miller has demonstrated that the changes in the commentary as well as in the text through successive editions were almost certainly inspired by Erasmus himself to defend the work's 'theological precision and orthodoxy' (ASD IV-3 34-6). Professor Miller has also demonstrated that the additions to the commentary made in 1516 or later were all by Erasmus himself.27 They include in particular one drawing attention to Folly's refusal to 'touch on original sin' or to avoid 'seeming to agree with the opinion of Plato and Origen, who teach that souls sinned before they came into human bodies.' Since Erasmus was explicitly to admit in the Ennarratio in Ps 38 that the cause of Origen's error was his Platonic philosophy (LB v 432), he was cautious about where his Platonist sources, and Origen, could lead him. In the notes certainly attributable to him, Erasmus points out that Folly's is an intellectual exercise, not 'a serious theological treatise/ that Folly does not condemn miracles, but 'only the vanity of those who seek their own profit by fraudulent miracles.' The 'true worship of the saints is not condemned/ but 'only superstition.' Folly only refers to 'fictitious indulgences obtained by fraud.' In other words, Erasmus was certainly at one with Listrius in wishing to emphasize the cautious restrictiveness of Folly's comments. Folly in the first authorized edition of 1512 conforms to no paradigm. It did, however, trail its cloak. Erasmus knew perfectly well how serious the debates of the medieval theologians actually were. He disliked Scotus, connected his Latin style with the quarrelsome nature of scholastic debate, and correctly perceived that his emphasis on divine transcendence necessarily led to a religion which was arbitrary and extrinsic to human intellectual and moral needs. True Christianity had to be moral and intrinsic to the

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human craving for intellectual satisfaction and moral and spiritual fulfilment. But Erasmus at least understood the issues. Erasmian studies have too long been held back because his commentators have not understood the seriousness of scholastic debate or the importance for European intellectual history of the Scotist formal distinction 'ex natura rei,' which warded off the naturalism of Aquinas only to sever the connection between divine revelation and the human mind's quest for truth and the connection between divine law and the human being's quest for moral fulfilment. On these matters I must refer readers to my edition of Betty Radice's translation of the Folly in the Penguin Classics, to whom we are grateful for permission to reprint the translation here. It is, however, clear that the satire bites in places uncomfortably deep. However superstitious religious practice had become and however debased some sorts of scholastic argument were, Erasmus knew that questions about the transmission of guilt, sacramental causality, and the number of filiations in Christ did have important religious consequences. Folly's derision is not entirely serious. The classical frivolity is both a cloak and a goad to taunt the theologians into keeping their discussions relevant to true religious sentiment. The satire in Folly is biting and negative. The prefatory material of the Novum instrumentum and some of the later works is more positive, but it was to be left to a later generation to turn Erasmus' religious insights into a positive theology. It can be argued that it was Jesuit theology which built on Erasmian insight, seriously arguing an autonomous human power of self-determination and basing a spirituality on moral discernment. Erasmus achieved a great deal, but never the total integration of the medieval theological tradition with its humanistic reaction. That had to be left to those who came later, and Erasmus would have agreed that what the Folly demolished was one day going to have to be rebuilt. The third satire printed in these volumes, the Julius exclusus, scarcely needs to be mentioned in this general introduction. Its still controverted authorship made it seem important to provide the text with a much longer translator's introduction than is usual in CWE volumes, and material relevant to the satire is treated there. The satire may date from 1513, soon after the death of Julius II, and represents Erasmus at his most playful, at any rate to start with. It is about this time that the attack on the dead pope seems to have been added to the Folly. Like the Folly, the Julius exclusus lacks unity of tone. The humour is no more subtle, although the satire bites as deep and is even more difficult to communicate in translation, since modern English scarcely allows the reader to feel the tensions between a classically moulded form of Lucianic dialogue,

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the erudite and contemporary allusions, and the earthy vulgarity of the Latin text. There are literary weaknesses in the Julius exclusus, but Erasmus may well simply have been amusing himself by writing it. Unlike the Folly, it was not endlessly reworked. The dialogue could have been composed without the character of Genius. It is an only moderately funny attack on the irreligiousness of Julius II and his papal court. Its literary interest turns on the inability of Julius to adjust his moral principles, which are in pointed contrast with those of St Peter, which Erasmus rightly supposes will be shared by the reader. In the end Julius typically wants to take heaven by force; but in spite of this St Peter does not totally despair about the fate of the Church. Both the Institutio principis christiani and the Querela pads date from a period in Erasmus' life marked by the emergence of a confidence and a sureness of touch which were henceforward to underpin and unify his literary activity. By any reckoning he was nearing fifty. His social satire, especially against war, had been published in the 1515 edition of the Adages, where he had freely commented on matters concerned with religion, power, and pacifism, and inserted essays like the Duke bellum inexpertis and Spartam nactus es, hanc orna on subjects closely related to those of the Institutio and the Querela. He had published the more positive side of his religious thought in the material prefacing the Novum instrumentum. There was still a coyness in the expression of his thought, but his radical spirituality was becoming apparent. The period 1515-17 marks for Erasmus the crest of a wave. Not only did he publish the satirical essays of the 1515 Adages and the Novum instrumentum, but he also finally took sides in the most important debate in the intellectual history of Europe, no doubt still tentatively, but in a way which was to determine his later opposition to Luther. The prefatory material to the Novum instrumentum contained the assertion that Christ's 'philosophy' was nothing other than a 'renascentia' defined as the 'instauratio bene conditae naturae.' This sonorous declaration does not actually affirm very much, because the 'founding of a properly established nature' leaves the theological problems untouched. But it does suggest a confidence in the powers of redeemed nature which, spelled out in theological terms, would clearly have been heretical, because it meant both allowing grace to pagans and endowing nature with the power, at any rate, to accept grace, which was 'semi-Pelagian.' Erasmus was deliberately using his classical idiom to circumvent scholastic debate. Christ did not refer to his teaching as a 'philosophy.' The word 'instauratio' gets round the debate about the precise

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effects of original sin. The word 'renascentia' must be a coy borrowing from contemporary Italian.28 What we have is an affirmation of Erasmus' confidence in human nature expressed in terms which carefully allow no one to pin him down as heretical. It is the same confidence which brought him to affirm against Luther almost ten years later that men did have the power of autonomous self-determination, although there was, in the early sixteenth century, no possible orthodox theology which could allow for it. It is no doubt for that reason that his 1524 De libero arbitrio is so rambling and unsatisfactory as a theological statement. It was the Jesuits who took up the Erasmian defence of the human power of autonomous self-determination against the reformed churches, the Dominicans, and, in the seventeenth century, the Jansenists. It is worth noting that their spirituality, which is based on the 'discernment of spirits,' or at any rate its expression in the Spiritual Exercises, seems certainly to derive from Erasmus' hurriedly written preface to the Pamphrasis in Matthaeum, itself no doubt inspired by More's letter of 1519-20 in defence of Erasmus to John Batmanson, normally entitled To a Monk.'29 The wave of 1515-17 did, however, take Erasmus' moralistic idealism well beyond the realms of practical implementation. Erasmus' view of the duties of princes at this date takes so little account of drives for power, political realities, and patterns of human behaviour as to read more like the euphoric projection of a dream than a serious programme for political education. He never resolves the absolute impossibility of showing how there could be a Christ-like prince in the real world around him, although the sharpness of the attack on the values that that world inherited from medieval chivalric ideals increases in intensity. What Erasmus is writing is still on the whole negative satire rather than constructive planning. He knows quite well that Christ's kingdom not only was not, but also never could be, of this world. Erasmus' values are thoroughly Christian, and they therefore concede far too little to the political realities. As Simone Weil was to say four centuries later: if those who take up the sword shall perish by the sword, those who do not take up the sword shall perish by the cross. That was a dilemma for princes which Erasmus never resolved.30 The Institutio, first mentioned by Erasmus in a letter to Grimani of May 1515, and then already intended for dedication to the future Charles v (Ep 334:170-2), was seen by its author as a complement to the Panegyricus. It makes clear what the earlier work had obliquely attempted to insinuate. When in 1516 Froben printed both works together, he accompanied them with translation of texts on statecraft by Isocrates and Plutarch. The Institutio was revised for the second Froben edition of 1518, but although Erasmus' policy of sharing out dedications between kings and emperors did provoke

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political comment, the text should on the whole be seen as offered towards the fulfilment of the straightforward duty to proffer moral advice to the future emperor, of whom Erasmus had recently become a counsellor. Its apparently innocent tone did, however, conceal attitudes towards preserving peace and towards the power of princes on which the stiffening reaction to Erasmus' views immediately seized. He did not regard war as never legitimate under any circumstances,31 but he was aware of, and exploited, the populist attractions of his views, and there is a sense in which all his writings on peace were deliberately calculated to appeal to ideological theory and to be dismissive of practical politics: Erasmus prefers a grandiose and rhetorical appeal for some ideologically desirable aim like peace to discussion of the practical politics for achieving it. The Institutio may well turn on the distinction between the authentic ruler and the tyrant, but Erasmus must have known that the distinction is abstract, theoretical, and ideological, and that real life was bound to call for compromise. The Querela pads was dedicated to Philip of Burgundy in the interests of making peace in Europe. Like so much that Erasmus wrote, it generalizes from the particular set of circumstances that inspired its original conception. It was composed expeditiously. Erasmus probably started it in the autumn of 1516 and finished it in the following spring, and he drew on material close at hand. It is clearly related intellectually and ideologically to the Institutio and the adage Dulce bellum inexpertis. Its specific purpose was to stimulate the Anglo-Burgundian alliance into making peace with France. There are oblique allusions to other contemporary issues. The interception of an intended spouse' refers to the marriage of Anne de Bretagne (1477-1514) to Charles VIII in 1491, after she had been promised to Maximilian. As early as 1521 a German translator excused himself in his foreword for leaving out what he felt to be Erasmus' no longer relevant praise of France. The contemporary references are, however, insufficiently precise for the most part to be the subject of more than conjecture. The general theory both takes off from and transcends the incidents, positions, and power politics which occasioned its elaboration.32 The Querela naturally shares the independence of view of the Institutio and is in all senses a maturer work than the Panegyricus. In reply to criticism by his old opponent Nicholaas Baechem, Erasmus wrote in 1524 defending himself for the attack on the taxation of the poor, but implicitly acknowledging that he had been somewhat carried away in the Institutio (Ep 1469:22244). It is difficult to judge the extent to which in the Institutio and the Querela he was being naive. Was he simply wrong or merely being provocative when he disapproved of the use of the mercenaries who kept most of Europe at peace for most of the time? He had little sense of the political reasons for

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extending dominion or of the economic benefits which could accrue from possessing it. In the end he was impatient with political realities. The later dispute with Luther confirms that Erasmus, once his viewpoints coagulated into coherent theory, was above all an ideologue. His early pro-Lutheran sympathies were partly political and had to do with ceremonies and religious practices. What swept them away was the ideological consequence of denying to man any power of autonomous self-determination. The ideology conquered the political sympathies with Luther's position towards emperor and pope. Erasmus was one of Europe's greatest explorers of broad, abstract, and general values, not one of its too plentiful political tacticians. The Ciceronianus was published by Froben at Basel in 1528. It is in the form of a comic dialogue, and has the tentativeness, indeed repetitiousness, which by now we must have come to expect from an Erasmian satire. As we must also have come to expect, Erasmus was right as well. In the Ciceronianus he raised problems as essential to literature as those raised by the rambling De libero arbitrio had been to theology; on both occasions he reacted perceptively and from a point of view which was eventually to establish itself as advanced. Erasmus was writing during a period of cultural turmoil. In order to know why he wrote as he did and not otherwise, we need a quite detailed knowledge of the cultural background, which with Erasmus means acquiring some understanding of at least the literary, political, and theological history of his troubled times. The Ciceronianus, while a satire, is also and obviously linked with the rhetorical works with which it was invariably published. It cannot be understood without some knowledge of what we might call the literary-political importance of Ciceronianism, particularly with regard to the cultural hostility of France and Italy, bred no doubt from the dependence of France on Renaissance Italy for cultural innovation, in literature as well as in architecture and the decorative arts. Anti-Italian satire and anti-Italian jokes had been common in France during the Italian wars, which began in 1494. There had been a serious attempt by the French, notably Jacques Lefevre d'Etaples, to identify Denis, France's first martyr, with the Denis converted by St Paul at the Areopagus at Athens, which would have enabled France to claim apostolic succession from St Paul for its Church against Rome's primatial see, which derived from St Peter. In spite of the influx of Italian influences and even workmen into France, the anti-Italian feeling became quite strong, and among the ways it chose to express itself was a reactionary distaste for specifically Italian forms of humanism, like the cult of Cicero taken to the point of logical absurdity, literary triviality, and irreligious formalism. That is what Erasmus sets out to attack in the Ciceronianus. The linking of Bude and Bade was not intended to

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be as offensive to the French as it proved, and the maliciousness of the dialogue was aimed not at the French but at the Italians, as the translator's introduction points out. Later on the whole dispute was to escalate, as early French humanism developed on pro-reform and anti-Erasmian lines. It was also pro-Latin and anti-Greek until the 1540s and the appearance of Peletier du Mans, Dorat, and Ronsard's Brigade, who were programmatically counter-reformatory, pro-Greek, pro-Erasmus, and anti-translation. Etienne Dolet, who had reformatory sympathies for which in the end he was executed, was a Latin scholar who compiled a two-part Ciceronian dictionary (1536 and 1538), the Dialogus de imitatione ciceroniana adversus Desiderium Erasmum pro Christophoro Longolio (1535) and the Maniere de bien traduire (1540). The first volume contains an interpolation at the moment when Dolet in 1536 heard of Erasmus' death. The anti-Italianism of the French, with whom Erasmus intended at least partly to side, found an echo in the enduring influence over him of Pico della Mirandola who, although Italian, had notoriously visited Paris and sided with the Parisian scholastics, defending their style in magnificently classical Latin against Ermolao Barbaro, the spokesman for the northern Italian humanists.33 Pico was an important guide for Erasmus. From the Enchiridion, which drew extensively on him in 1503/4, until after the debate with Luther, which was protracted until the end of the third decade of the century, Pico clearly determined important aspects of Erasmus' thought. The French evangelical humanists, inspired and led by Lefevre d'Etaples, did not on the whole trust Erasmus, at least during their moment of serious political influence while they were reforming the diocese of Meaux in the years prior to 1524, but Erasmus was in the Ciceronianus implicitly taking sides with the French, or at any rate attacking the Italians, perhaps still also remembering the conquering Julius II who entered Bologna, the irreligion of the papal court, the squabble of Ermolao with Pico, and his own unhappy experience in 1507-8 when staying with Aldus in Venice. By 1528 Italian Ciceronianism was clearly over-confident and declining into preciousness. It was over-ripe for satirical attack. As is typical of him, Erasmus in the Ciceronianus takes part in a literary-political struggle to which he does not explicitly allude. He was attracted to the Ciceronian model of discourse with its rhetoric, its internal structure, and its rhythmic sentence endings, which has, after all, provided the basis for secondary education in both halves of the western hemisphere for several hundred years, but realized that its purist advocates were going too far and thereby transforming the humanism which had excited his youth

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and determined his life from the religious tool he had forged from it into what was merely trivial, even silly. As usual he had recourse to satire to make his point. Erasmus developed slowly, and his views were shaped by the religious, political, social, and even military turmoils which he had to endure. In many ways he was the crown of the Middle Ages, dedicating himself like Aquinas, Scotus, or Suarez to all the great issues of his day. It is a mistake to regard him as belonging to a 'Renaissance' which we have invented to categorize a value-shift which should be more precisely defined. Erasmus was a dedicated intellectual with sensitive and intelligent reactions and a compulsion to take part in, and write about, the cultural changes taking place around him. He was sensitive, intelligent, and gifted, but remained a human being, ambitious for fame and the power he could achieve by the written word, anxious to assure a living for himself, quite determined to defend what he believed in, less violent than More, less revolutionary than Luther, perhaps more of a saint than either, and certainly shrewder than both. Great intelligence, remarkable shrewdness, a very great capacity for staying cool, spectacular ability, and almost intolerable sensitivity are what make up Erasmus, who swathes so much in vast rhetorical developments and is so proud of his own skill. Erasmus came to know exactly what he was trying to do, what effect he wanted to achieve, and in the end we can only stand back and admire not only the fact that he was on all the right sides, but that his activity as a whole, as well as the individual literary texts, was so finely contrived in reaction to external stimuli. He reacted very strongly to external events and needs, but even before he knew exactly what he wanted to happen and realized it would not, the sensitivity, the sheer intelligence, and the calculated effect of his activities make him one of the most fascinating characters in the intellectual history of the west. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The editor wishes to thank the translators who contributed to these volumes and to acknowledge the assistance of Professors Otto Herding and Clarence Miller, and of Professor Graeme Clarke and the Humanities Research Centre in Canberra. He is most grateful for the help of R.M. Schoeffel and Mary Baldwin of the University of Toronto Press. Melanie McMahon compiled the index for the Panegyricus, Wayne Daniels the index for the Mora, and Danial Dempster the index for the Querela pads. Erika Rummel amalgamated the indexes for all the individual works and compiled the general index. Finally, the editor would like to thank the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada for its continuing support of the CWE. AH T L

PANEGYRIC FOR ARCHDUKE P H I L I P OF A U S T R I A Panegyricus ad Philippum Austriae ducem

translated and annotated by BETTY RADICE

I N T R O D U C T O R Y NOTE

2

On 4 November 1501 the archduke Philip 'the Handsome/ son of the emperor Maximilian, duke of Burgundy and ruler of the Netherlands, left Brussels with his wife Joanna 'the Mad' to pay an official visit to her parents, Ferdinand n of Aragon and Isabella of Castile, to receive the recognition of the Cortes of Aragon and Castile as heirs of the joint crowns. The journey was made in response to pressure from Ferdinand and Isabella once it became clear after the death of Miguel, infant son of Joanna's deceased sister Isabella, that Joanna (with her husband) would inherit the crowns. (Philip thus became Philip i of Spain in 1504.) They were accompanied by Flemish advisers, who proved unpopular with the Spaniards, and they travelled through France, where they were entertained by the reigning king, Louis xn. Philip owed vassal's obligations to the king of France in respect of part of the Low Countries, and had a variety of family and political reasons for wishing to maintain good relations with Louis xn. This was a triumph for the Francophile party led by Philip's chancellor, Francois de Busleyden, but was hardly likely to please Ferdinand.1 Philip was entertained for three days in Bayonne by the ruler of Navarre, John d'Albret, and entered Spain in late January 1502. At Balaguer he fell ill, and did not meet Ferdinand until 7 May. He was crowned heir to Castile in Toledo Cathedral on 22 May, and on 27 October at Saragossa he was also received as heir to the crown of Aragon. Both kingdoms came to him through Joanna (10 and n5). Her parents tried to detain him in Spain (26 and n7i), but he left Joanna at Alcala and returned to France on 28 February 1503. He reached Savoy and his sister Margaret, wife of Philibert n, on 11 April. Then he went on to his father Maximilian, leaving him at Innsbruck on 6 October. He reached Cologne on the twenty-seventh, travelling by boat down the Rhine from Worms, and was back in Brussels at the beginning of January 1504. Erasmus had left Paris because of the plague and was in the Netherlands, mainly at Louvain, between 1502 and late 1504, perfecting his knowledge of Greek and working on the New Testament and the Enchiridion. He was in the financial difficulties described in the editor's introduction (xiv-xvii), but refused a lectureship offered him at the University of Louvain (Epp 171 and 172), preferring to subsist on patronage and what renumerations he received from dedicating his works to people in high position (Ep 178:1-10). It was presumably mainly for what he could earn by it that he agreed to write a panegyric of congratulation to Philip the Handsome on his triumphal return to the Netherlands. Erasmus worked hard, against time, during September 1503 to finish it (Epp 175:13-14,176:5-6; 178:51-2) and it was delivered on 6 January in the ducal palace of Brussels before a distinguished company which included the high chancellor of Burgundy,

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Thomas de Plaine, and the bishop of Arras, Nicolas Ruistre, to whom Erasmus wrote his dedication in Ep 179. Allen's preface to this letter quotes from the records of Philip's exchequer that Erasmus received one livre payment on 9 January and in October he had a further ten livres (Allen Ep 181 introduction). Erasmus certainly did not enjoy writing the Panegyricus. He complained in Ep 178:12 and more fully in Ep 179:30-48 that he was pressed for time, could not find enough accurate information on the subject, and had to fill out the speech with digressions and embroidery on his theme as best he could. This is apparent to the reader. Erasmus does not appear at ease with high-flown rhetoric, and had difficulty in finding a palatable and readily intelligible style for his uncongenial theme. There are passages where his Latin lacks lucidity and others where it descends from bombast to bathos. (How far a translation should reflect and how far conceal the imperfections of its original must remain a matter of opinion.) In Ep 181:62-4 Erasmus tells Colet that 'I was so reluctant to compose the Panegyricus that I do not remember ever doing anything more unwillingly; for I saw that this kind of thing could not be handled without some flattery/ He also reminds Jean Desmarez, who seems to have been responsible for suggesting he undertake the work, that 'you know how hard you found it to extract it from me, how much difficulty I had in forcing myself to undertake the task, how disinclined I was for it, in a word how little appetite I had for writing it.' Much of this letter is self-justificatory, arguing that there is a proper use of flattery 'which consists in presenting princes with a pattern of goodness, in such a way as to reform bad rulers, improve the good, educate the boorish, reprove the erring, arouse the indolent, and cause even the hopelessly vicious to feel some inward stirrings of shame.' The whole of this apologia (Ep 180) was printed after the Panegyricus in the first edition of 1504. The Latin panegyric had its origin in the traditional oration delivered by a magistrate at a patrician's funeral, in which the deceased's virtue and those of his ancestors were glorified, and events of his public life, both military and political, were selected for encomiastic treatment which, as Livy later remarked (Ab urbe condita 8.40.4), tended to falsify history. Cicero's speech Pro Marcello provides a link between the early laudatio funebris and the gratiarum actio, the speech of thanks delivered by a consul on taking up office and originally addressed to the senate and people. In imperial times this became a formal panegyric offered to the reigning emperor. The few extant examples of such panegyrics (of which the younger Pliny's panegyric of the emperor Trajan is the first and most famous) show a conventional pattern of exaggerated eulogy: the emperor is favourably compared with his predecessors, his ancestors, historical personages, and mythological heroes,

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even with the gods and the forces of nature. The same form is followed by Erasmus in his rhetorical outbursts of elaborated flattery, so that the young prince is made out to be a model of all the virtues and to outshine not only his Burgundian forbears but Hercules, Julius Caesar, and Alexander the Great. Erasmus specifically cites Pliny's Panegyric amongst his classical precedents, and this turgid rhetorical effusion was his main model. Pliny's avowed intentions were equally laudable; he writes in Epistles 3.18.2 T hoped in the first place to encourage our Emperor in his virtues by a sincere tribute, and, secondly, to show his successors what path to follow to win the same renown, not by offering instruction but by setting his example before them.'2 Again, in Panegyricus 4, Pliny declares that in listening to this kind of speech 'good rulers should recognize their own deeds and bad ones learn what theirs should be.' The whole speech aims at showing the emperor what his grateful subjects would like him to be.3 Erasmus would certainly have read it as the first of the xii Panegyrici Latini,4 the manuscript of which had been discovered at Mainz by Johannes Aurispa in 1433. This was the source of a large number of Italian manuscripts, and the editio princeps by Franciscus Puteolanus was printed in Milan in 1482. Some of the more florid passages of rhetoric in Erasmus' panegyric are close imitations of similar elaborations in Pliny's (cf 69 and n25/). It is interesting that in Ep 180: i73ff Erasmus says that Pliny's task was enviably easier than his own, dealing as it did with an older man who had a fine record of achievements which Pliny had personally witnessed. This is the only hint we have that Erasmus was aware that the relatively inexperienced young prince did not really measure up to the effusive compliments he elaborated ad nauseam. Whatever Erasmus may say in his letters of his dislike of flattery, the very nature of the Panegyricus calls for uncritical excess of it. This makes uncomfortable reading for us today. It is also frustrating for historians to be given little indication of the diplomatic background to Philip's official mission to Spain other than the occasional veiled suggestion. Anything more explicit would have been inappropriate in a panegyric, and Erasmus was at pains to present himself as one ignorant and incurious about current affairs. The historical grain of the speech has therefore to be sifted from a disproportionate amount of verbal chaff. The Panegyricus, with its dedication and apologia (Epp 179 and 180), was printed in February 1504 at Antwerp by Dirk Martens. It was then revised in minor ways and reprinted about 1508 in Paris by Josse Bade, and from 1516 there were several editions with further revisions by Froben, who printed it with the Institutio principis christiani. The present translation (which appears to be the first in English) follows throughout the text of Otto Herding published in the Amsterdam edition of the complete works of

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Erasmus in 1974. Professor Herding adhered to the editions of 1504 and 1508, cited as A and B, and the translator has seen no reason to differ from his policy. His textual apparatus, which cites the later editions (C-H), indicates nothing of significance; such changes as there are are limited to word order or choice of epithet and verb, introduced paragraph headings, and expanded phrases which amount to rudimentary notes. It looks as though Erasmus did not care to revise and augment the speech, as he did most of his important works, and he may well have given little further thought to what could be judged a piece of hack-work written before Moria made him famous. Froben, however, rightly linked the Panegyricus with the Institutio principle christiani, which was composed in 1516 and addressed to the son of Philip the Handsome, the future emperor Charles v.5 Two sections of the Panegyricus are of leading value and importance for understanding Erasmus. This is the first of Erasmus' treatises on the proper use of political power in the hands of a Christian ruler. Some five pages (from 39) are explicitly aimed at showing that 'no man must maintain the absolute discipline of virtue as strictly as a prince' (43): he must be free from personal ambition, cruelty, pride, and susceptibility to flattery, but should concern himself with the welfare of his people. Erasmus then devotes another long excursus (from 50) to the duty of the prince to maintain peace at home and abroad, and to spare his people the horrors of war and its lasting consequences - death and bloodshed, impoverishment of natural resources, decay of the arts, corruption, and moral depravity. 'And so the chief glory of the Christian prince, who ought never to take his eyes off his model, should be to cherish, to honour, and to extend with all his might and power that which Christ, the prince of princes, left among us to be the best and greatest possible thing: namely, peace' (56-7): all his life Erasmus stood by his conviction that war is essentially evil and unchristian. It is implicit in the satire of Moria, and found full expression in the adage Duke bellum inexpertis and the famous Querela pads written more than a decade later. But even if in this early work Erasmus' appeal for humanity and Christian charity had to be sandwiched between artificially fulsome tributes to a Burgundian princeling, it is no less eloquent and sincere. BR

DEDICATORY LETTER

TO

THE

MOST

REVEREND

6

FATHER

NICHOLAS

RUISTRE, 1

BISHOP

OF ARRAS, FROM DESIDERIUS ERASMUS, GREETING2

For many reasons, most illustrious Bishop, I think it proper that the panegyric which I recently delivered to our prince on his return from Spain should reach men's hands under the auspices of your name above all others. First, because you give wholly disinterested support to letters, and always act as a kind of Maecenas or father to all learned men. Secondly, if this effort of mine can contribute anything worth while to enhancing the glory of our prince, no one cares more than you for the dignity of his position; or if it will serve rather to give him encouragement, that has always been your special interest, and from one Philip to another,3 from great-grandfather to great-grandson, it has been your constant concern to direct the minds of our rulers towards honourable purposes by your frank and wholesome counsel. Finally, I should like my speech to be recommended to readers of honest talents by the man through whom it previously won the approval of our prince: an approval he indeed gave evidence of himself by his eyes, his expression, and (as they say) by his very brow,4 as well as by the generous remuneration which was a kind of guarantee of his opinion. Yet there were several reasons which suggested that I should make every effort not to publish: on the one hand I thought that I could call on only a limited amount of meagre talent, and on the other that I was confronted by the formidable task of upholding the majesty of the noblest of princes in my oration, and it would be a serious disgrace to impair it through lack of ability.5 Certainly not everyone's brush can worthily reproduce the features of the godlike. And in addition to being unequal to the task for other reasons, I was also debarred through shortage of time. For indeed, not only had the idea entered my head too late, but I also knew nothing of the subject except what public rumour had conveyed to a man who was not particularly curious and was always muttering over his books. And so I hastily piled up a great jumbled mass of words, and then with the first strokes of the chisel I fashioned from them a sort of rough likeness of a panegyric. Afterwards I made a good many inquiries into the subject, but I could not gain much better information, through the negligence of some and the secretiveness of others; so that when there was a general demand for publication and I was unwilling to reweave the whole web, I strengthened it in several places. Consequently I fear that the experts will be all too ready to run their fingers over the speech and discover its unevenness and here and there its gaping seams. Moreover, though eyes are the sole authorities for good narrative, I myself have not had the chance even of hearing any but a very few, unconfirmed reports, so that this is an area which one must hurry over on

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tiptoe,6 so to speak. For to have written about a prince what was imperfectly known is a kind of sacrilege. There was also the fact that my preference for frank speaking made me feel a certain distaste for all this kind of writing, to which Plato's phrase 'the fourth subdivision of flattery'7 seems especially applicable, although it refers not so much to eulogy as to exhortation. But there is certainly no other method of correcting princes so effective as giving them an example of a good prince for a model, on the pretext of pronouncing a panegyric, provided that you bestow virtues and remove vices in such a way that it is clear that you are offering encouragement towards the one and deterrence from the other. For doctors do not treat everyone in the same way, but in the way most appropriate to the individual case. I could of course have protected myself with some such explanation, if I had not lighted on a prince who could be praised without any need to add fictitious details. On this one point I was fortunate, but those who will describe the same man in his later years will be more so. May divine benevolence increasingly further his counsels on our behalf: that is my prayer. Farewell.

PANEGYRIC FOR ARCHDUKE PHILIP OF A U S T R I A TO THE MOST I L L U S T R I O U S

PRINCE PHILIP,

A R C H D U K E OF A U S T R I A , DUKE OF B U R G U N D Y , P A N E G Y R I C OF C O N G R A T U L A T I O N

ET C E T E R A , THIS

ON HIS T R I U M P H A L

DEPARTURE

FOR SPAIN AND MOST JOYFUL RETURN TO HIS COUNTRY, BY D E S I D E R I U S E R A S M U S OF R O T T E R D A M ,

C A N O N IN

THE ORDER OF SAINT AURELIUS AUGUSTINE

You must forgive my zeal and even my presumption, whether you will or no, Philip, most fortunate of princes, when I have undertaken of my own choice as the voice of the people, to congratulate you on the happy return heaven has granted you. My purpose in doing so was not to inform you in my speech of the extraordinary delight of every one of us; for this you could trust your own eyes and ears, or easily judge it from your own powers of perception. My reason was twofold. I wished to give special fame and publicity to this day of all days, the brightest and most auspicious for our country, and for any nation up to the present day and even in times to come, provided I can say something worthy to be recorded for the future. I was also carried away, I could almost say intoxicated, by the unbelievable joy with which your longed-for return has lifted the hearts of one and all in a manner unprecedented, so that I could not restrain myself from declaring, pouring out, and spreading abroad this incomparable happiness in your Highness's hearing. Your Majesty will have to bear with any excess if I bubble over with joy, for it is you who have provided so much cause for it. It is difficult to keep silent in grief, as Marcus Tullius truly said.1 But the most difficult thing by far is not to speak when you are in transports of joy. Who has not learned at some time from experience how hard it is to stifle in silence a great pain in the heart? But today we have learnt what is far harder: to control boundless happiness, especially when it is the sweeter for coming at last in answer to anxious prayers; to keep feelings in check when the tide of overflowing joy cannot be confined within the breast; to set a limit to rejoicing when there is no limit to joy; and to restrain speech when no speech can adequately express our feelings. The son of Croesus2 was born dumb, but broke into speech when violently alarmed; filial love brought out what nature had failed to impart. The Samian athlete Echedes3 or Aegle (authorities differ on the name), who had hitherto been speechless, suddenly let out a cry of indignation when he saw his title and reward taken from him. Tell me then, can we not speak out

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at a moment of such loyal and indescribable joy, such as could bring speech from the dumb or even (I might say) from the stones themselves? Nothing is less in control of itself than a heart overflowing with new and unexpected happiness. But why do I foolishly continue to apologize for any offence to the ears of the most indulgent of princes, one who is as much a lover of his country as he is dear to it? Surely no service could be so welcome to him as one offered by his country of its own accord, not one extorted by fear, imposed by authority, or demanded by general custom, but one bidden by feelings of complete freedom and unparalleled loyalty towards him. The eulogies and marriage-hymns of the ancients were not free from some form of flattery, and their funeral orations could not quite ring true. Why? They were for ceremonial occasions. I should be surprised if kings were much deceived in the past by panegyrics delivered on social occasions. The reason? The kings knew they were a tribute to their own desire for obedience. And if I am right, those acclamations of the people or senate made little impression on wise rulers. Why was that? Because on these occasions silence meant opposition, and failure to acclaim was to exclaim against. The speech of thanks which it was usual for a new consul to deliver to the emperor was even less acceptable, simply because the senate had decreed and custom demanded it. But a speech of congratulation can never seem so sincere or so free from artificial acclamation as when there is no necessity to make it. No speech ought to be so welcome to the ears of a prince who is above all corruption as one which is not part of a customary ritual but is prompted by an affection which goes beyond formality, a speech which is no elaborate creation but an expression of loyalty. For my part I would not deny that my tribute may seem somewhat hastily put together, so long as what it lacks in graceful expression it gains in frankness and honesty; for I would prefer to risk appearing ungraceful in your eyes than insincere in everyone else's, if I must choose between the two. But neither is necessary. Rather, as it is well known that you stand second to none of your people in the affection you win, so it is fitting that you should have no equal in the joy you inspire. For the future I am confident that as the happiness we all share is refreshed and renewed by our dwelling on it, it will be as welcome to your own devotion to the country to which you have been restored as it will delight our own feelings towards you whom we welcome home. Would that I had the ready tongue and fluency whereby the splendour of the occasion could at least be matched by the eloquence of my speech! For I do not think I ought to labour to see it glitter with the elaborations and ornaments of language or to extend and pad it out with the tricks of rhetorical amplification. It is more than I hope for if I do not impair the truth;

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1O

it surpasses my desires if I do not dim the brightness of your fame, so far am I from wanting any heightened colouring. Thus I speak not for myself but for any mortal: where can resources of oratorical skill be found rich enough to provide eloquence equal to your Spanish expedition, in the glory of all its triumphal occasions, to your ceremonial meetings with kings, the rejoicing of so many nations, so many honours throughout your two years' absence, and the boundless joy at your return? No weight of eloquence could be so great, no flood of speech so fast-flowing as to describe worthily the great sorrow with which your country saw your departure, the concern with which it followed your movements in your absence, the anxious prayers with which it yearned for your return when you were delayed, and now its great joy when it sees you home again: and sees you safe and well and more than that, for you have gained increased happiness, honours, and rewards by the splendid endowments of your innate disposition and of your fortune. It would surely be the height of stupidity to remain silent on such matters; failure to offer you congratulations would suggest envy and ill will, while it would be both ungrateful and impious not to render thanks to the powers above. And so while I do so in a speech whose sincerity makes up for its lack of distinction, I pray you, most noble Prince, and you, most distinguished leaders of the court, to listen to me kindly, as you have done so far. But where in such a vast progress of events can I find the right opening? Unless it gives special pleasure (either because all is safe at last or because it makes for the culmination of happiness for all present) to remember past sorrow, which for us has produced this multiple increase of joy, since recollection of dangers makes security all the sweeter, and memory of past evils sharpens our awareness of good fortune. So far as it could, your country, which loves your Highness so dearly, stifled the great trouble weighing on its mind and hid the anxiety in its heart by a show of serenity, lest it should bring calamity on your auspicious journey by a sort of evil omen; and yet I think you were aware of the tears running down our cheeks against our will and of our ill-concealed sighs, when under our very eyes those two retinues were made ready for your departure for Spain. They were the most splendid our age has seen, not in riches alone, but even more for the skill and planning of their equipment. In one you were surrounded by a splendid company of leading courtiers and stood out, the fairest among the fair, as Hesperus4 shines golden amongst the blazing stars; while in the other, the noble lady your wife Joanna,5 in the midst of a festive band of maidens, moved like the Homeric Diana, the most graceful in her regal bearing among a graceful throng,6 a spectacle to give joy to others in the future as great as our grief at the time. Fixed, fixed forever in our minds will be that day - happy or sad

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11

(which shall I say?) but surely an anxious one - that fourth of November7 when you, noble Prince, showed your country and your country showed you, by the sincerity of our emotions, what several have hitherto recorded: namely, that a good prince is to his country as the mind to the body, as the sun to the world. What pain, what agony of mind when you were torn from us, which we felt all too keenly! And how the country sank unconscious and thought her life departed when she saw her sole light and mind taken from her! If the soul departs, soon the whole body must collapse. Take the sun from the heavens and immediately the whole bright face of nature will be dim and desolate. Remove the prince from his country, and all that was alive and blooming must wither and decay. If your country only respected you as her master, she would have found her own freedom in your absence. But in fact, since she loves you as her parent, looks up to you as her source of light, and embraces you as her beloved, all she prays for is to be allowed to enjoy your perpetual presence. She does not believe herself safe when you do not see her; she thinks herself bereft when she does not see you. Indeed, she was well aware that your wife's reason for her journey was one of deep filial duty, in order to satisfy by her presence the desire of her loving parents, who, even if they were not overburdened by their years, were near to the threshold of old age, as Homer8 puts it. Your country knew that your own purpose was a serious one - to take the reins of the wealthy and prosperous kingdom of Spain, as they already appeared destined by fate for you, into your hands at an early opportunity, and to let them grow accustomed to you. She saw too how important it was for that empire, in order to forestall any factions and internal disorders, for you to be introduced to your father-in-law9 in his lifetime, and how much it would mean to herself if her resources were augmented and supported by such a magnificent increase. Furthermore, when she recalled how in the past, even before you were born, it had been predicted by the astrologers (if that kind of person is to be believed) that you were destined one day to be a bulwark of our faith and the destroyer of the Turks; and since she knew that Spain was the sole defensive outpost of the Christian religion, she was able to take comfort from the knowledge that honour awaited you, and the stage was set, as it were, to give you opportunity for immortal fame. She saw other things too, which I deliberately pass over at this point. And if none of this had been so, she was certainly well aware that the great heroes of the past had always found that it enhanced their fame, increased their enjoyment of life, and was an asset for maintaining their rule if they travelled in many regions, brought themselves to the notice and good will of many rulers, and by variety of experience developed a sort of Ulyssean or practical wisdom.

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12

Although, as I say, our country knew so much, yet still (O immortal God!) she had to struggle in so many ways, so painfully, until with difficulty she forced herself to fall in with your wishes. Not that she wished to dictate to your Excellency or to show dissatisfaction with your purpose, which was otherwise not only salutary but also essential: the reason was that she could not fully control her devotion to you, and so it was only because she loved you so dearly that she could appear reluctant to comply. You own indulgent sympathy took no offence at her hesitation; instead you rejoiced in her loyalty on two counts, because she loved you with such concern and because she overcame this love by her regard for your interests. It was a sign of her love that she could not do without you, of her victory over love that she could not refuse whatever she had seen her prince desired. Besides, since love is so strong that, in the words of the poet,10 it conquers all, it is necessary to be stronger than the strongest to have conquered what conquers all. Then there were so many serious reasons for your departure that you would have had to go, even at great risk, and though it was quite clear that there was nothing to fear except the possibility of an unavoidable accident, was there any peril which your country did not imagine or dread in her anxiety? Her fears were of course excessive, for how truly has it been said that 'love is a thing full of anxious fear/11 Even in the safest situations, love is always apprehensive as if in great danger. Your journey was made by land, and your safety throughout France was guaranteed either by the hostages handed over to you, or by what was more reassuring than any guarantee, the feeling towards you of King Louis,12 which went beyond the ties of kinship and was almost that of paternal affection. In addition, King Ferdinand, your father-in-law, held Spain and was eager for your arrival,13 your sister14 Margaret held Savoy, your father Maximilian held Germany; and yet your country feared for you as if you had entrusted your person to stormy seas or had risked your life in the hazards of war. She did not lack confidence in your own or your companions' courage, for she knew it would be steadfast in the most difficult situations, but gave way to her affection for you which was perhaps excessive - if excessive is possible in a country's affection for the best of princes. The slighter the cause for fear the more it marks the loyalty of those who are afraid. Rome could have felt no more anxious concern when she once bade farewell to Scipio15 (not yet named Africanus) or to Paulus Aemilius,16 though she had good reason to think that there was much to be feared for the youth of the one at the hands of an enemy both treacherous and cruel, and for the old age of the other from the great wealth of his foe. Senate and people rivalled each other in their love for Alexander Severus,17 who has

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been more highly praised than nearly any other emperor. When he was setting out for the German war, at about the same age as you are now, the populace was indeed so unwilling to see him leave the town that one and all they accompanied him for one hundred and fifty miles, with sorrowful hearts and floods of tears. In comparison, surely your country can be counted superior, for this reason: she showed the same emotions though you left for a country at peace. A new bride has no more grievous fears when her darling husband is preparing for a dangerous sea voyage; a mother's tender heart is not so fearful when her son is leaving for a hazardous campaign. And (lest there should be any suspicion of pretence) though this show of emotion most resembled an individual's, the anxiety behind it was common to all: faces, words, prayers were all the same. It is rare for many people to feign the same reaction, and it never happens that an entire company can do so, still less that they can keep it up continuously. Thus your people gave proof positive of what their feeling for you would be, and what zealous support they would give should there come - which heaven forbid - a clash with an enemy, when they showed such loyal anxiety in time of perfect peace. For what will people not do for their prince if he meets danger, when they cannot believe he is safe once out of their sight? Nor indeed did their fears take a simple form; sometimes they almost feared as loving parents do for their children, and at others were like an angry wife (according to Terence's Micio),18 and dreaded what a jealous woman dreads. Though both kinds of fear sound foolish after all turns out well, neither is quite stupid, irrational, or irrelevant; indeed, even in the case of those whose fears have no foundation, their kind concern has always been welcome. On the one hand they thought of the changing tides and uncertain seasons of that fickle mistress Fortune and that cruel game she loves to play unceasingly in human affairs, so that prudent men always suspect her moments of serenity. The words of Virgil19 came to mind: 'Nowhere is good faith secure.' They considered, as nothing stands still in men's affairs, what great changes of heart there are with each new event. They remembered that things often happened which could not even have been feared. They thought about the hazards of a prolonged winter's journey. They realized that those evils, common to all - sickness, catastrophe, treachery, poison, and all the countless traps of that kind set by the Fates - could be met with anywhere. Many examples came to mind of princes both at home and abroad whose setting forth stood second only to yours in heaven's favour, and yet had ended in disaster. They weighed the great blessings they possessed in you against the loss they would suffer if anything befell you. They know well that all their security, prosperity, wealth, peace, and repose - in a

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word, the entire sum of their happiness - depended on the safety of you alone. Finally, in every way they were the more fearful for you because in your youth and unconquered strength of mind you had fewer fears for yourself. Again, on the other hand, the idea sometimes passed through their minds (for why should I not venture to admit it?) that perhaps other realms might captivate you and make you less mindful of your own. They were apprehensive lest another part of the world might be more tempting to your eyes, lest after being hitherto the prime and sole delight of their master they should have to accept that some other region had an equal or even prior claim. They knew too that it is the way of the world for a new love to drive out the old, as one nail drives out another.20 Moreover, they had read and heard that Spain was more beautiful than nearly every other land, and was the richest of kingdoms in resources and manpower, that the king and queen were most eager to receive you, and that the people were wholly subservient and wonderfully devoted to their rulers. Putting these and many other things together, they thought one thing followed from another, and all tending for the worse, as the comic poet21 says. Yet nothing seemed to matter so much as the fact that they must agree to being without you for some time. They remembered the farmers' saying, 'Better master's face than the back of his head,'22 which is as true for empires as it is for farms. But to continue with what we suffered in our longing for you. Your Highness had left us three children.23 Heavens, how they called you to mind by their marvellous resemblance in features and the happy similarity to you of their whole appearance! Indeed, for many people even statues of bronze have sufficed to assuage their longing, while for others it has been enough if there were someone to recall the absent one by name. It would have been enough for Dido in her desperate love if some little Aeneas24 had played in her palace. But not even a multiple solace could heal our unbearable suffering for you, although not one but (as it were) three Philips played in our halls, and so many living images of you often made you present to us. The one great calamity of your departure was ever in our minds, rather than all the blessings which remained with us. Immortal God, what a strange scene it was, when your country escorted you as you left, with tearful joy, as the poet25 says, mingling almost in equal measure cheers with groans, unfeigned happiness with genuine grief, high hopes with deepest fears. Emotions naturally conflicting seethed strangely at the same moment in the same breasts, and were plain to see on the same faces, so that you could not say for certain whether your people were happier for seeing you or sadder because soon they would see you no more, cast down by fear that some fate would deny your return or buoyed up

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by hope that they would eventually see this day brimful and overflowing with happiness. What district, what city, what village, what house did not long to be torn from its seat and face any hazard along with its ruler, who was dearer than life itself? Who among your people did not prefer to undergo whatever he feared for you, with you, and even instead of you, rather than to be absent from your perils and from sight of you? How we escorted you with wishes of good luck and solemn prayers, how we followed you with our eyes as you left the boundaries of your realm - with our eyes as long as we could, but with our prayers for ever! Then how sad the desolation, like that of mourning, which soon showed in every face! What nation or city did we not envy, to be gladdened by your arrival, so happy for all, but now no more for us! With what greedy ears we seized on every word of gossip about you! Whatever the Greek bard's26 Rumour, most talkative of goddesses named by the poets, let fall in public, whether she spoke fact or fiction, we snatched at it hungrily as food for our joy or grief, our hope or fear. How we were thrown into consternation when some grave news came, especially that report that the prince's health27 was impaired, twice repeated and all too true; and then again, how we revived when we heard of his recovery, so that indeed I thought that your devoted country had sickened with its master and recovered with his return to health. What shall I say here about the public prayers? There were some, quite a number, who took vows for your safety as if at the sickness of a parent or son. There were those too who would not have hesitated to sacrifice their lives in exchange for your safety, if Christian law had not condemned this practice28 and you had not disapproved of anything contrary to the faith. The Roman people, I believe, were no less fearful for Claudius Caesar at the height of his popularity, when the false rumour29 had been spread around the city that he had been killed in an ambush on his way to Ostia; and they felt no firmer confidence that he was safe than those people today who, in spite of so many eyewitnesses and even the evidence of their own eyes, can hardly be convinced that you are safe. If only the faces, voices, and minds of your people had been available to your own eyes and ears! You would then have seen each one of us apparently oblivious of his domestic affairs but in torment for the safety of yourself alone. Meanwhile at every public assembly, banquet, or private meeting, there was no talk but of the prince's health, no other family conversation at every hearth and home, where expressions of joy or sorrow are not forced, but everyone can freely give tongue to his own concerns. Those common words of greeting 'How are you? What's the news? Is all well? Everything all right?' were not so much in use as these: 'How is the prince? What news of the prince? Is everything all right with the prince? Is all well with him?' And on parting, the words 'Keep

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safe30 and well, may all go well with you' were not so generally uttered as the wish that a glorious prince would keep safe, the best of princes be well, and everything go well for a prince of such renown. Men had ceased to pray for good fortune for themselves, as all their attention was directed to you alone, and indeed they thought that 'we live if he lives, and no harm can come to us if all is well with him. We are safe if he is safe, and all our fortunes depend on his.' I should be a little afraid that posterity will judge that I have emphasized all this at length only to flatter you, if it were not more likely to believe, on the testimony of many records, that there has been no prince in living memory, and, may I say, in recorded history, who has been loved by his country so warmly and sincerely, and who has loved his people so earnestly in return. Indeed, I think there is no one present who does not realize that all I say, though it passes belief, is still less than the truth. Moreover, I shall easily be cleared of the suspicion of unreliability in the eyes of posterity by the historians, and amongst them by my friend Willem Hermans31 in particular; I single him out by name in this distinguished company to do him honour. He is an outstanding man, a gentleman amongst scholars and a scholar amongst gentlemen, and he has long been engaged in ensuring immortality for your own exploits, most illustrious prince, and for those of your forbears, with eloquence almost equal to Livy's. So far I have spoken of your departure; now for a few words about your prolonged absence. Our concern and longing for you had been increased by delay lasting longer than expected. For just as jealous love always dreads the worst, any haste seems slow for impatient desires. Ah, how long we found that year, how tardy the months we spent without you! Was there anyone who did not feel that the two-year period - and that not wholly completed was dragging on to more than twice its length?32 Just as time's stream flows sluggish and unkind to an ardent bridegroom, so is it that 'the year is slow / for sons oppressed by their mothers' harsh custody/33 So too are the anxious hours counted by a parent awaiting a son's return on a promised day. And there were some who applied the well-known Greek saying to you, and called you Callipedes,34 not as a joke, as Tiberius Caesar35 was once nicknamed when he was rather slow to go away, but in earnest, through impatient longing for your return. Then at times, as if grown weary with longing, your country was indignant with the slow passage of time or with the business which delayed you, or even addressed you angrily with affectionate reproaches, demanding your presence in words such as these: 'What end will there ever be of your delaying, invincible prince, dearer to me than the light of day? What has become of your concern for us? Could I have fallen from your affections, I who happily brought you into the world,

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cherished you gently in my bosom, and reared you carefully to reach the flower of your manhood? If you do not tear yourself away before Spain has had her fill of you, before you quench the thirst of your father- and mother-in-law, before you satisfy your sister's affection and father's love, I doubt if I shall ever see you again. But if anyone measures length of time by the extent of my longing for you, you have already been away a full ten years and more. You owe much to Spain on account of your marriage, but more to me on the score of filial affection. Let me say this to support my claim: Spain, it is true, once gave your sister a husband,36 and more recently gave you a wife,37 but I gave you life.38 You were crowned for her, but born for me: I admit I owe everything to you, but in return you owe yourself to me. That is a bold thing to say, but it is true. I know I address no tyrant, but my prince. Nor am I unaware that once the world prophesied of you, and for a long time the facts have declared, that you are the one destined by heaven's command to rule over many great empires. One land will claim you as king, another as emperor, yet another will adopt you under different titles, and I pray this may be auspicious and fortunate for us both. But though I may have to give way to wealth and yield to splendour, and may indeed be inferior to all, I shall still cling stubbornly to my one claim to fame: it was I alone who gave birth to my prince. Some other air elsewhere may be pleasanter, but it was mine you first breathed. Another land may bear more fruit, but this is the one which first received you and gave you nourishment. If it is true that by some strange attraction "native soil draws us on by its sweetness / And does not let us be forgetful of itself,"39 then it is I who am the keeper of your cradle. Tor this reason Jupiter (as the legends say)40 delighted as much in his own Crete as in the heavens themselves, though Crete did not give him birth but only nurture. Ulysses was splendidly entertained by Circe and Calypso,41 after he had travelled around the wide world and seen so many rich and lovely places, as well as the famous delta of Egypt, with its marvellous fertility; yet he hurried back to his rocky Ithaca through many hazards, preferring to live any sort of simple life in his own country to feeding on nectar and ambrosia and sharing his life with goddesses, not growing old, as Homer42 puts it. For the emperor Vespasian, the little house at Cosa43 where he was born was so dear to his heart that even when emperor he never ceased to visit the place which had produced so great a man. Nor did he allow anything to be changed in it, lest any familiar sight should be lost; it had heard his first cries, and he thought this good enough reason for preferring it to any other place. And it was I who brought forth in you not just a man and an ordinary person, but a prince, and an excellent one. Because I gave you birth, I call on you as my son; because I nurtured you, I claim you as my nursling; and though in you I gave birth to a prince, I

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can call on you as one who owes obedience. Now at last restore yourself to me, for you are owed to me on so many counts, and in this way you will restore me to myself. Why have I called myself fortunate hitherto, if others now enjoy my blessings? I beseech you, let that heart of yours (unkind to no one) be touched at last, either by a parent's personal affection or by the public concern throughout your realm. Finally, permit me to enjoy your presence for a while, as I learn to do without you/ With complaints such as these, prompted by her impatient love, your country demanded that you should return to her. As for the powers above, to whom she had entrusted you on your departure - what am I now to say about the ardour of her prayers, in public and private, by which she besought them to restore your Highness to her? With what sedulous piety, rites, and prayers, did she strive to propitiate the divine powers, so that through their bounty she might eventually see this happiest of days? Many believe it is a noble example of devotion to a prince that in former times all classes of the Roman people every year threw into the Curtian Lake44 the coins they had vowed for the well-being of the emperor Augustus,45 for no one was ever dearer to his country than he; and an even nobler one that every first of January they used to send him gifts to the Capitol even if he was not in Rome. But this country of yours made no use of superstitious adulation nor of pagan offerings, but with devoutest piety and prayers of utmost sincerity she sought nothing from the heavenly powers except that her prince's return might be safe and speedy. In public and in private prayers, in daily rites throughout all the churches, in solemn supplications repeated in every town, this one thing was what the pious devotion of monks and of virgins dedicated to God, the entire clergy, and each individual on his own account was busily entreating of the best and greatest God - that he who gave us a prince like himself (that is, the best and greatest) should return him and preserve his great gift in safety for us all. Now see how a gracious heaven has heard our pious prayers and even surpassed our hopes by its benevolence. For what prayers could ever be more pious than those which are offered for the benefit of so beneficent a prince? Or what greater reward for outstanding piety could the gods be persuaded to grant, Philip, than the gift of a prince like yourself? But precious gifts are sometimes more valued when restored than when they were first given; for God gave you back in answer to your country's prayers, not only with principal intact, as it were, but with the addition of no small interest. And indeed, your country does not boast now of her duty towards you, for it is her own feelings she satisfies, not any feeling of duty. I mention these matters all the more gladly because they bear witness to the sincere and even exceptional devotion of your people to you (and what more could a

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sensible prince desire?) and also because they apply to you in your own right, and are not shared with any other ruler, in the distant or immediate past. A great many of these rulers, however, are said to have been out of their people's sight for many years, on account of war; but none was longed for like you with such united sentiment, such warmth of feeling, and such concern, and that too even in personal prayers which know nothing of falsity and adulation. Since you surpass Cecrops in nobility of birth, Polycrates in good fortune, Croesus in wealth, Xerxes in armies, Julius Caesar in victories, and Pompey in triumphs,46 there was nothing more the gods could grant you except your people's single-mindedness in their love of you. I say nothing of how quickly cities passed their own decrees, ordering their envoys to approach your Highness so that they could convey verbally the citizens' greetings and present their loyal duty, and so that through their eyes each city could catch a glimpse of you, though where your safety was concerned they could scarcely trust their own eyes. But what a remarkable proof of true loyalty your people gave, when they felt themselves bound by their duty towards you almost more strictly when you were far away for a long time than if you were to be seen in person! A private household does not readily abide by its duty if its master has stayed away even a little while, but in the vast structure under your rule, composed of elements so diverse in language and capacity, no disturbance occurred nor any attempt at revolution, as each man strove to the best of his abilities to see that nothing should happen to overshadow the light with a cloud of gloom. And so your country's loyalty gave you of its own accord in your absence what fear of a master in their midst does not achieve amongst other peoples. 'Present or absent, he'll be the same/ as the old man47 in the comedy says of a son who does his duty through love and not from fear. But your country, Philip, exceeded this tribute to loyal duty, for she performed hers in your absence not only without any slackening off, but with increased punctiliousness. Your journey therefore proved its worth (if for no other reason) because it enabled you to find out by surer proofs the zeal, devotion, and sentiments of your people towards you, to learn in fact through absence both how much you loved us, and how highly in return we valued you. For us too your absence was important, on this count if on no other: it taught us better how fortunate we are in you as our prince after we had to do without you, and how we should subsequently appreciate you more eagerly and happily on your return than previously at your birth or coronation. But more about this later on, in its proper place. And now my own inclination and the expression on every face have long seemed to demand that my speech should picture for our mind's eye all the glory and splendour, the celebration and ceremony of your entire

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journey, so that our present happiness shall be filled with recollections of past joy as well as of past sorrow. At the same time, we shall appreciate the extent of the gratitude we owe to God who has blessed your fortunes, since every successful issue in life must be attributed to his benevolence alone. How else, most fortunate Philip, could the whole of your progress through France, Spain, and Germany be described but as a continuous triumph which surpasses all others in joy, in grandeur, and in magnificence? Amongst countless Roman triumphs there was none, I think, so joyous as that of Scipio Africanus after his defeat of Hannibal, and none so magnificent as that of Paulus Aemilius after his capture of Perseus, king of Macedon. Yet the latter's procession, so highly praised by many writers, was held for three days,48 the former only for one day,49 and neither spectacle gave pleasure anywhere but in Rome. You alone displayed your triumph to so many nations for more than a year, and did so continuously, unless it could be said that a new one could be seen as often as you entered another town. Wherever you led your steps, every place resounded with cries of delight, congratulations, and applause. Which is the happier, to look upon the spoils of honour - bloody arms, men's heads fixed on spears, an enemy in chains, licentious soldiers riotously dancing, and many other similar spectacles such as would either bring tears to the eyes of every beholder in pity for the lot of man, or a chill of terror to the heart at the recollection of dangers - or to see so many leading lights of the nobility, to see processions made up of so many splendid horses and of so many boys and girls conspicuous for their beauty as well as for their apparel, and to see the prince, the fairest marvel of the whole spectacle? Again, to see so many cities pour out to meet him, so many well-equipped embassies, so many high-born men and women, distinguished bishops and lordly nobles, to see the solemn meetings of kings, the embraces of princes, and the variety of ceremony of the courts? And finally, to see thronging crowds of people everywhere so happy? Will any day of thanksgiving in the past, any ovation, or any consular triumph be thought comparable with these? In Rome another man's downfall used to bring a barbarous pleasure to the spectator; here a universal enthusiasm made all bright and fair with mutual rejoicing. There a few enjoyed the misfortunes of others, here all could equally enjoy you alone. There either a more fearful war was dreaded if the enemy were provoked, or, if he were exhausted, it was only one nation's arms which had been held in check for the moment. Here all hoped for peace everlasting, for the powers above seemed to point to you as its destined sign. The emperor Augustus is recorded as having celebrated three triumphs over a three-day period.50 This was a great and memorable event, yet the second of the three, for his victory at Actium, in which he showed certain trophies of his fellow-citizens in

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defeat, could not be witnessed by many without grief and tears. But your festivities were wholly joyful, and permitted transports of pure delight unmarred by any association with sorrow. For it to be quite clear that this was so, I must now prepare myself for an account of your progress, selecting only a few of the most important events from the great mass of material; my speech will never come to an end if it recalls every one. First of all then: nothing so splendid, so joyous, so festive can ever have been seen or heard of as was the scene on that day51 when you first crossed the threshold of the realm of France, and Louis, ruler of the noble land of Picardy and himself the noblest of his line in spirit and in deeds, together with a distinguished retinue of the local nobility, met you and greeted you in kingly phrases, and congratulated the guest so eagerly awaited on his safe arrival. On both sides there then arose a joyous clamour of mutual greetings, and the voices of the populace raised in acclamation very nearly reached our own ears, as if from near at hand. Or has the sun seen anything more magnificent than that assembly when the famous city of Paris received you,52 not as its guest but as if you were some godlike being sent down from heaven? Indeed, that nation, otherwise wholly dedicated to serving its own kings, has given none of its rulers so royal a welcome as it gave to you, its guest. How can I describe the magnificence of the public spectacle which held your attention as you were about to enter the city, the majestic approach of the purple-robed senate,53 the crowds advancing from that famous seat of learning, the ceremonious procession of the whole ecclesiastical order? What of those waves of humanity like those of the sea, as the multitude poured out at the sight, widely filling every street and open space and house, so that it could hardly have seemed less than the legendary army of Xerxes? For Paris has three glories in equal degree, any one of which you would be hard put to find in another city: a flourishing clergy of the highest distinction; a university which is larger than any other in numbers and richer in men of eminent scholarship in every branch of learning; and a senate as venerable as the famous Areopagus at Athens, as renowned as that of the Amphictyons,54 and no less glorious than that of Rome in bygone days. So it appears to me that by a singular stroke of fortune it has blended the highest of advantages: the finest religion with the finest learning, and the finest sense of justice with both. For the clergy are distinguished for their learning and the scholars commended for their religion, while in the senate neither would be found wanting. No wonder then that Paris overflows with citizens and visitors in such large numbers as nowhere else in Christendom, so that it should be called a kingdom rather than a city, or indeed, the queen of its realm.

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This place then thought nothing should be omitted which could glorify your arrival. I will pass over the people's enthusiasm, such as had greeted no one hitherto. But what could have done you greater honour than the reception given you on the same day by the three orders, each of them equally venerable and distinguished, such as they had not been accustomed to offer to every king? No less gracious was the occasion on the following day, when the illustrious head and rector of the university55 courteously received your Highness again, and paid you the honour of a formal oration. This doubtless delighted your heart in many ways: either because it extolled your admirable learning, eloquence, and wisdom, or because in one part you could see yourself as you are and look at the face of your virtues, while in another you were reminded of what you ought to be, or again, because it bore witness to what the sentiments of the whole university were towards you. And what a scene of grandeur on the day after that, when you were solemnly elected to that reverend and regal council and, clad in purple amidst the purple-robed senators, you yourself presided there as if in the king's place. To many on that day it was uncertain whether you or that assembly did more honour to the other, so much did you grace each other. What shall I say now of that indication of your clemency, sentences remitted to wrongdoers, prisons thrown open everywhere at your wish, and pardons granted the guilty throughout France, so that every mortal should be free to rejoice at Philip's coming? How can I recount all the many ways in which that nation honoured you, not only as one equal to their own kings but even as one superior, and did so at their king's command, but yet so willingly and eagerly that their enthusiasm exceeded his own boundless good will towards you? For though he had issued instructions that your reception was to be no different from his own (and no more generous order could have been given by so courteous a king), the people did more than they were bidden, making you his equal in ceremony, but his superior in their devotion. A novel and unheard-of event! Will posterity ever believe that the kingdom of France received with such remarkable good will and unbelievable joy the prince with whose grandfather and great-grandfather56 it had so often been engaged in savage and bloody war, with whose father-in-law it was only recently engaged in battle, with whose father too it had been in armed conflict?57 But any thought or recollection of all this was destroyed, Philip, by the good will of the entire world, destined, it would seem, for you and your sister. And then what an agreeable and triumphal spectacle when the most Christian king of France beheld you in his palace at Blois58 with indescribable joy, as if you were his son, or whatever could be more welcome than a son; when he received you with the highest respect and embraced you with

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incredible affection, treated you with royal magnificence and parted from you on terms of purest confidence! The noble queen of France59 too competed with her husband so as not to seem less friendly and gracious towards your wife than he had been to you. Moreover, besides the vast banquet spread for you, which would, I think, have made Solomon call himself niggardly, had he seen it, and as well as the lavish gifts freely exchanged on both sides, every kind of entertainment was provided in your honour during the days (and they were many) when royal hospitality detained you there. These did you honour indeed, but one thing gave greater universal pleasure: during those same days eternal peace was proclaimed between the emperor of the Romans and the king of France. What perfect courtesy, when his royal Majesty escorted you for nearly half a mile when you left the town of Tours,60 and with an embrace prayed for your successful return and the fulfilment of all you asked of him! Here he is said to have taken over all the expenses incurred by your entire company, as he had done at Blois ten days previously. I must pass over the details of the same sort of enthusiasm shown for you and your party by cities and the nobility wherever you went, and in particular the incredible hospitality of the most excellent king of Navarre,61 whose father62 had only recently received all your party with regal munificence; now the son, about your equal in age, and sharing the same distinguished royal grace, was seen to embrace your Excellency with fraternal affection. He waited upon you again with the utmost courtesy at Bayonne, a city in Aquitaine, on the furthest boundary of France. I must also leave out how you entered that city in delightful and marvellous fashion on a ship of ingenious design, how you were entertained with high honours for three days,63 and sent on your way with great ceremony. For now my speech is pressing to go where you were then hastening, that is, to Spain: and how much more lavish the celebrations were there, in view of all the reasons for rejoicing on either side, can be more easily inferred than described. For indeed, the whole of that kingdom, the most extensive and flourishing under the sun today, brought out all its wealth, nobility, talent, and splendour to do honour to your arrival, and laid it all at your feet; and on top of all her opulence, an opulence in which she is easily supreme, Spain also surpassed everyone in her enthusiasm, as each noble on his own behalf, and all the people as one, strove eagerly to pay you some tribute that would be worthy of your Highness, worthy of the memory of your sister, worthy of your love for your wife, worthy of the more than parental affection of the king and queen towards their son-in-law and daughter. It would take too long, I will not say to describe, but even to enumerate the festive triumphal processions which you mounted for Spain, and Spain in her turn for you,

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when you were met in so many places by different deputations from the nobility, and in every district, city, and village there were scenes of public rejoicing. Each one of these could not have been bettered, and yet if they had all been put together, they would have been surpassed by that special seventh of May, the day when Ferdinand, most magnificent of kings of his era (yet in nothing seeming so anxious to excel as in honouring you), sent on ahead large parties of leading members of the court and of ecclesiastical dignitaries, and then between the village of Balaguer and the town of Toledo met and embraced you and his beloved daughter. Then he led you through the packed crowds of applauding nobles and cheering populace into the palace of Toledo, where there was a renewal of rejoicing when the noble lady Isabella, one worthy to be counted amongst the great heroines of the past, received her longed-for son-in-law and her darling daughter in outstretched arms and kissed them, while tears of joy were shed on both sides. It would have seemed that nothing could be added to the joy or splendour of that day, and yet it too was surpassed in every kind of magnificence by the fifteenth day following it, when in the cathedral of Toledo, which is dedicated to the Virgin, before a congregation formed of all the flower of the Spanish nobility, witnessed by every high dignitary of the ecclesiastical order, by the grace of God, in the presence of the king and queen surrounded by a vast crowd of civil officials and magistrates, you were installed and crowned with solemn ceremony as ruler of Castile; and allegiance was sworn to you with wonderful unanimity and an enthusiasm never known before. This day also had its rival on the twenty-seventh of October, when in the city of Saragossa with similar ceremonial you accepted the princedom of Aragon. We can imagine what delight overwhelmed that people, which had long been a connoisseur of virtue, when on beholding you it knew that its fortunate realm would never lack the best of kings, and when it called itself doubly blessed because it was adopting a prince who excelled in every form of virtue, and because through you it could promise itself similar successors. And indeed, everyone's hopes were confirmed and joy redoubled when your wife had a safe and happy delivery in the city, with the help of God, and laid in her parents' arms an exquisite little grandson,64 giving you the name of father a fourth time and leaving her native land a precious hostage of herself and of you. What, pray, could be so timely and happy an answer to prayer? And we can all believe what immense joy filled the heart of your father-in-law, whose great wisdom is matched by his strong family feeling, when he could see in person, while his old age was still vigorous and strong, the one on whom the burden of his flourishing kingdom would

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safely rest, and could already enjoy with his own eyes a good portion of posterity in his children's children, as the poet says,65 and perhaps (God willing) be destined to see those too who will be born from them. And he had good reason at this height of his good fortune in old age to look to one of two things: either to wish more and more to live to enjoy such a son-in-law for a longer time, as well as the grandchildren who would be like their father, or to think he could now leave life with an easier mind because he saw he had fulfilled the last function66 of a good king once he had ensured that he could not be followed by an unworthy successor. The emperor Hadrian is recorded as often having said, when Commodus was seriously ill after his adoption, 'We are leaning against a falling wall.'67 Indeed, all the most admired emperors thought their chief concern should be to hand on the imperial succession to one like them or better than themselves. What then are we to suppose your father-in-law felt, after a life crowned by distinctions in which he had always taken first place, when he saw the full circle of his merit completed by this supreme occasion - when you were at his side, no falling wall but a wall of bronze, well able to sustain not only the burden of empire but also its glory? Such rejoicings were as genuine as the unfeigned distress when a little earlier people had been almost stunned by the illness you suffered for a few days at Balaguer.68 As soon as this was reported to the king, without waiting on the ceremony befitting your reception, he hurried to your side in person, with a few attendants, in a state of fearful anxiety. This illness of yours could indeed appear to have been heaven-sent, if only for the reason that it searched out and elicited all the love and loyalty hidden in the depths of men's hearts; for even among princes the popular saying is true, that friends are acquired in prosperity but only proved in adversity,69 so that it would be worth while now and again for a man to meet with some misfortune, so as to know for certain how loyal everyone is to him. For continuous success conceals men's feelings, but a touchstone70 does not distinguish pure gold from alloy better than ill luck separates false friends from true. And so even if some mishaps befell you on your journeying, they proved to be of some advantage in enabling you to see now more clearly than before which people loved you more on your own account than on their own. Although in your father-in-law's case no proof was wanted of his affection for you, yet fortune of her own accord provided the opportunity for the extent of his love to be shown. Thus you filled Spain to overflowing with accumulation of joy, O most illustrious Prince: first by your coming, which was so much desired, then by your fortunate recovery of health, and furthermore, because you were installed in authority over Castile and Aragon, a new prince as if already a

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king in the making; then too because you had blessed a people already your own with a beautiful child born in their own land; and finally because you were fashioned, partly by nature and partly through your own efforts, to be one who would bring pleasure to all beholders in every way. Moreover, the closer one looks at your virtues the more admirable they appear, and the less likely to be wearisome the longer one looks. Accordingly your wife's parents found one reason after another for keeping you, so that you would be delayed in tearing yourself from their embraces, though not delayed too long as far as they were concerned.71 It is not very remarkable that they received you so eagerly: what seems so marvellous is that after a whole year and a half you left Spain more thirsty for your presence than you had found it when you came. But just as the prolonged opportunity to have you with them did not satisfy their desire for your presence, but whetted their appetite, so our own prolonged need of you in your absence did not dull our longing for you, but made it more acute. At this point the sequence of events in your progress, which I am following in my speech, provides me with an instance in which you gave proof of your noble mind and kingly qualities: when you had serious doubts whether you could settle by letters or envoys the question of the violation of the treaty which on your initiative had been established between France and Spain.72 Accordingly you returned to France, and gave proof in person of your integrity, not of course to the king, who already knew you inside and out, but with the idea of preventing any suspicion of perfidy adhering to your character in the opinion of any member of the nobility or of the fickle crowd. Already you seem to me to understand that a true prince must ensure not only that he cannot be proved guilty of anything dishonest, but also that he cannot be suspected of anything wrong. This you thought was of such importance to you that, relying on your own knowledge of rectitude, you did not hesitate to go bail, so to speak, for your own innocence, and chose to hazard your life rather than your good name. But I return to your journey. When you had passed through Spain in this way and had crossed France again in a similar blaze of glory, you brought by far the happiest of days to Savoy, even though everywhere so far you had roused incredible enthusiasm by your arrival and left great longing for your presence on departure. For you must have long since seen how many towns, villages, and castles I am passing over unmentioned, though you passed by none of them without a clamour of welcome, as great crowds sprang up everywhere at the sight of you and even came running from afar. Not so many, I believe, ran so eagerly towards Cleopatra, queen of Egypt, as she was borne along the river Cydnus into Cilicia to meet Marcus Antonius,73 seated in that theatrical (but no less marvellous) state barge,

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with its golden poop, purple sails, and silver oars, herself a vision of beauty. What thronging crowds, what great applause, when the most noble prince of Savoy, your sister's husband,74 hurried forward for the meeting of two youthful rulers, each so fair to behold: when that devoted sister ran to the arms of her loving brother - Margaret, the world's darling, to whom, alone of mortals after you, the fond fates have granted that in no age has that precious jewel75 from which she takes her name and which her purity of character surpasses ever been so dear as she is to her own people. She is destined to be so firmly seated in everyone's affections that hardly any woman has been so beloved by one as she is by all. And so everywhere tears of joy could be seen stealing down the faces of the spectators of that lovely meeting of brother and sister, and on all sides could be heard glad murmurs of prayers for the two to enjoy good fortune or of approbation for their mutual devotion. Indeed, there is nothing so popular with a crowd as a scene of family affection, and earth has never borne a people so savage and barbarous that it does not respond warmly to this sentiment. But then, since you felt that a proper order in your affections impelled you to discharge the same duty to your father76 as you had to your father-in-law and to your sister, you hurried on to Germany, where everyone, I think, has long been imagining for himself what rejoicing you caused. We can believe how that mighty heart of your noble father leapt in transports of joy, for he so adores you that even the most indulgent of fathers amongst his subjects could not love a son so dearly, and he is so eager for your advancement that he longs to transfer his entire estate and glory to you. Anyone who knows of his feeling for you can easily guess (no, he cannot even guess) how much true happiness he felt in the hidden depths of his affection when he saw you enhanced by such great successes that he even ventured to hope that this was the day he had always longed for - the day when he would appear to stand second to yourself. Yet you permitted yourself to be torn from such a father too, and hastened to answer the prayers of your homeland, to which, after God, as most authors are agreed, the first share in your affections is due. You see, most excellent Prince, how I exaggerate or invent nothing, but rather how much I pass over. I have given only a bare outline of events, and yet this unvarnished record has long held all my listeners spellbound. For everyone can infer one thing from another, and easily understand the outstanding triumph, with all its splendour, happiness, and rejoicing, of your travels across a good part of Christendom, as you divided yourself with unheard-of devotion between kinsman, friend, father- and mother-in-law, sister, brother-in-law, father, and homeland. For when France had shown you such courtesy that nothing more seemed possible, Spain went even

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further, and made it appear that France had done too little to rival her, though before comparison it appeared that she had done more than the maximum. Neither could your sister prove unequal to your father-in-law nor your father fail to surpass them all; while your own country could yield to none in its courteous attention. Thus many competed in renewed rivalry to do honour to your progress, as some were unwilling to be surpassed in politeness and good will, while others were not allowed by Nature herself to be outdone in family affection. There has indeed been no nation which does not judge you worthy of more than royal honours, while all predict and foretell in you something which goes beyond royal majesty; and for this they need follow no auspicious omens, but need only judge by your own spirit, the destiny for which you were born, and the father and father-in-law you will succeed. Come now, if we may, let us call upon the marvels of antiquity, and see whether any journeying of the heroes of old merits comparison with yours in splendour, in rejoicing, or in successful achievement. And since there is very similar evidence in legend, let us quote the two chief examples from very many, Hercules and Ulysses. The labours and journey of the one round the world as far as Cadiz77 have provided rich material for song to talents free to make use of it; while Homer has made the ten-year wanderings of the other over land and sea as remarkable for posterity as he was himself outstanding amongst bards. It does not matter to me if anyone says such things are only fables; my interest lies much more with the learned and eloquent men who invented them to excite our wonder. In the first place, then, no one will so blindly admire antiquity as to think that the labours of Hercules (spectacular perhaps, but certainly destructive) are to be compared with the great happiness of your own travels. If indeed your own progress appeared so like a glorious triumph, what form pray, did Hercules' journeying take but that of unparalleled brigandage? He fought against monsters with a gladiator's daring, but monsters yielded to your majesty of their own accord. He finished off a couple of robbers, and gave peace, I suppose, to a few wretched acres, while you were the mediator between far-reaching empires. For wherever your Highness' countenance shone, it brought with it not only peace but also incomparable happiness, as if it were destined to do so. But so much for Hercules; for it is something of an insult to compare you with him, when Alexander the Great78 did not permit a single word to be said comparing Hercules with himself. Now for the adventures of Ulysses. How much there is in them which is base, crafty, and deceitful: when he sleeps hidden amongst the leafy boughs like a smouldering log in the ashes, when he deceives the Cyclops, when he makes himself a nest and lair with

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interwoven branches in a hazel thicket, when he returns home disguised as a beggar and is recognized only by the dogs! By contrast, your journey was always true to itself, full of dignity, magnificence, and renown. And if we may also draw a comparison between your fortunes, Ulysses was harassed by angry deities79 and a thousand perils, while all the heavenly powers were propitious to you and made all favourable and easy, so that you avoided dangers with higher praise for your piety than he won for his long-suffering in enduring them. He was an unknown suppliant everywhere, while you had ties of kinship or marriage with every king, and were not only well known to all but also especially beloved. He lost every one of his comrades and scarcely got back to his home alone; you lost very few from your large number and led back the rest of your company in safety and triumph. He suffered many wretched hardships, for which the divine poet often calls him 8uoT7)i'05, that is, wretched,80 and he returned at last to find his household in a sorry state; but you found everything as happy at home as all else had been enjoyable on your travels. I could also cite the journeys of Osiris, Bacchus, Theseus, and Aeneas81 in this connection, but I prefer to compare you with that much-praised man, Solon. Herodotus,82 the foremost historian of Greece, praises his ten-year travels to the fullest extent of his eloquence, but you seem to me to take precedence on three special counts. First, Solon had a very different reason for undertaking his journey, since he did so to ensure the envy of his fellow-citizens, while you did so to extend the influence of your people and of yourself. His departure seemed not unlike flight, his absence much like exile, but what could have been more handsomely fitted out than your own journey? Secondly, in the outcome you are far ahead of him, since he was unable to find any city at peace, while you found so vast an empire not only wholly peaceful but also completely happy. Finally, you are not inferior even on the count that journeys of this kind are especially recommended because they provide the opportunity to know the minds and cities of many men, as Homer83 writes of Ulysses. For antiquity thought that the only road to true and genuine appreciation of wisdom was by visiting many places, learning the nature of men of all kinds at close range, trying and testing everything. The writings of the philosophers, they said, produced a sort of drowsy, empty kind of wisdom, whereas the true wisdom was nothing other than experience of a great many things, an accurate memory of events, and finally, taking counsel from what actual dangers taught. And so the learned gave high praise to the lines from the Roman comedy of Afranius84 called 'The Chair/ in which Wisdom herself says that Experience was her father and Memory her mother. The Spartans appear to have been of the same opinion, when they used

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to picture Apollo, patron god of wisdom, as rerpaxetpa KOLL rerpdwro^, that is, with four hands and four ears,85 no doubt with the suggestion that for a man to be thought wise he must have done and heard a great many things. And so, as I started to say, even in this you have not taken second place. For even if Sophocles86 was right when he wrote that princes learn good judgment from keeping company with the wise rather than by travelling in different lands, it has been your good fortune to meet so many kings, talk with so many envoys, live with so many people of importance, observe the languages, practices, talents, customs, and institutions of so many peoples, cities, and families; altogether, you have been able to gain fuller and wider experience in your two years than the Ithacan or the Athenian did in ten: for that is the period on record of Ulysses' wanderings and Solon's travels. Nor does anyone immediately gain greater wisdom from seeing more mountains, rivers, and towns, if it is true in general that 'those who hurry87 to cross the sea find a change of clime but not of heart'; this comes to one who has had the same happy experiences as yourself. But enough of legend and examples from the distant past. It is not my intention to draw comparisons with the travels of Pythagoras, Plato, Apollonius88 and other famous men of their kind. It will be enough, I think, for men of their modesty to have their travelling commended in gatherings of scholars, and they will not ask to compare it with the glory and splendour of your journey. Let us move on to historical facts which are a little nearer our own times. Here it is remarkable how there is universal admiration for the expedition from Greece of Alexander, tyrant of Macedon, and of Caesar89 from Italy. But I would argue that neither is comparable with your progress, if we are only willing to measure the case by its importance and its honourable purposes rather than by its antiquity and the extent of the dangers it involved. That expedition of Alexander's, God knows, was nothing but a raging storm and deadly whirlwind, confounding everything in war and tumult, terrors, slaughter, and bloodshed, wherever he directed his assault. And that ten-year harassment of the Gauls, Germany, and Britain by Julius Caesar was very much the same; whereas you dispersed every cloud of gloom wherever you went, shining like the sun with kindly light and bringing fair weather everywhere amid rejoicing and delight. Just as when the early spring first breathes its warm breezes90 over lands still frozen with winter snow, everything immediately replaces its gloomy appearance with shining brightness, so wherever your retinue appeared or its arrival was reported a new kind of happiness at once spread everywhere. Those two let loose the furies of war on peoples hitherto at peace; you brought peace and tranquility to kingdoms thrown into confusion by war.

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For your father-in-law was engaged in a bloody and violent war91 with the king of France, but both were willing to abandon their resentment (though everyone always believes his own to be in a just cause) and unite in affection for you. Immediately the two armies broke off hostilities and threw themselves with equal zeal into honouring and obliging you as their guest, so that nothing should prevent joyful celebration wherever you came, and peace should everywhere prevail where Philip was, as he was destined to create it. Those two, Alexander and Caesar, carried with them the makings of war, just as the proverb92 says the north-east wind brings the storm-clouds, while you either increased peace or made it by your arrival. They burst in with curses on their heads, you were called for, invited, besought, and went on your way with everyone rejoicing for himself, congratulating you, and auguring well for the future. Their arrival could be welcome only to evildoers and to those who were sick of their lot and looked for revolution; yours brought the greatest happiness to one and all, for it was desirable even to criminals and malefactors (such as would yield to correction), and not only desirable but even beneficial. For it was essential for such men to be encouraged by the benefit of a free pardon if they were to turn to honesty and better ways. And so while those two by their arrival made happy men wretched and bad men more criminal, you made good men out of bad and changed their misery into happiness. Furthermore, they were driven off course by ambition in her fickle chariot,93 while you were encouraged to make your journey by the most honourable of designs. They sought fame wherever they could, you only where it was honourable, though yours gave a richer satisfaction to your modesty than theirs gave to their ambition. They performed certain great deeds, but such as were not approved by every honest man; yours were no less good than great. Their foolhardiness was hateful to their country, condemned by the senate, bloody for the army, and deadly to other peoples. Your happy fortune benefits us and does you honour; it is agreeable to your court, popular with your subjects, and most happy for other nations. Now let us bring on the emperor Hadrian,94 whose praises rank amongst the highest. According to Spartianus,95 he was immensely fond of travels such as you undertook, and wanted to see with his own eyes whatever he had read about in books. His journeying was certainly peaceful and on a grand scale, but in many ways it must stand second to yours, for curiosity alone sent him on his travels, while you were prompted by your sense of duty. He indulged his own desire, but you acted in deference to your father-in-law's wishes. He wanted to see much out of intellectual interest; while for you pleasure came afterwards and was unsought, for

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something far, far greater stirred your spirit - the wish to join firmly together in eternal peace Spain, France, Germany, and Britain, that is, the whole of Christendom this side of the Alps, and to do so partly through your own popularity and influence, partly by means of treaties and marriage ties. Finally, Hadrian was an emperor and no longer young, yet he was despised by several kings,96 while you are still young and only a duke, but there is no king who does not hold you high in esteem. But comparison of individual items would make my catalogue endless, so I will confine myself to the general statement that there has never been a single prince whose journeying is known from written record or sticks in men's memory where so much support, splendour, and rejoicing was combined with incredible success in all its events, and where such high honour was won, after a whole lifetime's travelling in search of it, as came to you unsought in these two years. But if any of my listeners feel that up to now I have been lauding your fortune rather than yourself, and think that it detracts from your glory that your good fortune has shone out so brightly in times of prosperity, whereas your manly virtue has not yet shown itself in situations of uncertainty and the difficulties of war, let me answer them briefly, as follows. In the first place, I did not embark on a panegyric of all your merits, but on a speech of congratulation appropriate to the present day. Secondly, it would seem too presumptuous to require from you all the exploits of Nestor97 or the experience of Marius98 now, at your age, when it should be quite sufficient to be able to praise the promise and quality of virtues which are budding and breaking into leaf. And indeed, I should be far from having any misgivings about including in my tribute these special advantages which are not bestowed by blind fortune on any common man but are the gifts to an excellent prince of a God who watches over the concerns of mankind. For the splendid bounty of the gods is not to be rejected, nor is it bestowed on all at random, as Paris truly says in Homer.99 Indeed Aristotle, the founder of the Peripatetic school, is so far from despising the benefits of fortune, as they are called, even in personal affairs, that so long as they are put to good purpose (as they should be), he believes they are of the greatest importance for a happy life. Again, Cicero,100 one of those for whom it is not enough if public administrators are required only to be honest men, values these benefits so highly that amongst the gifts needed by a general he puts good fortune at the end of his list, as the chief essential. For since no good prince is fortunate only on his own behalf, but far more on behalf of his country, and the good fortune of kings and rulers resides essentially in making their people fortunate, surely nothing is so deserving a subject of public prayer and

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nothing is so worthy of thanksgiving as the success of an excellent prince: and especially because for the most part material prosperity has been combined with the merit of integrity and wisdom, something which antiquity wisely perceived and neatly expressed in the phrase 'a man's character makes his fortune/101 Homer102 was right when he wrote that a just Jove gives good things to good men, and often enough the words of Plautus103 are true, that the deserving get their deserts. Besides, it is not pure chance if well-laid plans do not turn out well, if indeed, as Libanius104 wrote, things turn out as men wish only if their plans are measured by standards of duty and honesty. Then again, if according to the holy prophets adversity is sent us by angry powers and prosperity by kindly ones, I should not regret having rated good fortune so high amongst the praises even of a prince advanced in years, for even though no one can ensure this for himself, he can make sure he has the traits of character for which good fortune is due or indeed granted. Finally, since congratulations on his good fortune to so virtuous a prince are really thanks to heaven's beneficence, to which we owe all the blessings we receive, nothing could accord better with the rejoicing of this day than for my speech to make all recognize how very fortunate they are to have as God's gift a prince who is dear to heaven, and easily the best and most fortunate of mankind. We are therefore happy to reflect again and again what blessings this day has restored to us along with the person of our prince, and we delight in weighing fortune's generosity against your merits, that is (to speak bluntly) to consider how worthy you are of so splendid a fortune. It is not my present intention, however, to reiterate those well-known details and to describe the incomparable glory of your descent on your father's side, your grandfather's distinguished imperial ancestry,105 and the pride on your mother's side in your grandfather Charles and greatgrandfather106 Philip, both of whom were so ennobled by honours in peace and in war that they can not only be compared with any of the heroes of the past but even ranked above them. I say nothing of your more than heroic physique, your height, not towering but most proper, which shows you from afar to be a prince, nothing of your noble head, nor of your keen and eagle-like sharp eye, nor of your regal dignity of expression and of your whole face, where lovable beauty and majesty are so combined that grace does not diminish the awe you inspire nor dignity obstruct your grace. Such a face, I think, had the man about whom Calpurnius wrote in a rustic poem,107 but in far from rustic language: a face where the features both of Mars and of Apollo could be discerned. For your whole countenance is clearly seen as one for enemies to fear and evil men to dread, but one which honest men cannot fail to love. Such a face Homer gave Achilles and Virgil

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gave Aeneas, and history ascribes to the general Africanus, wishing him to be majestic, and yet wholly lovable, and again, lovable while losing none of his great majesty. Let me keep silence, however, about your broad shoulders and bodily vigour fit to carry any burdens of a prince. Nor will I touch on the fact, however memorable, that though for most men it is necessary to win their power by great slaughter and bloodshed, to maintain it by the sword, and to extend it by danger and crime, you were born to a position of vast power without having to work for it, and with the applause, as they say, of both gods and men you will assume still wider powers, without effort, while nothing in your own good fortune is bloodstained, nothing bought through anyone's sufferings. As an instance of your good fortune I will make no mention of your marriage, which could not be more auspicious, to a girl who, in addition to the exceptional lineage of her royal parents, brought to your bridal chamber such piety, chastity, modesty, and good sense that she seems truly worthy to be the equal and even the superior of the heroines of old. For Penelope was not more chaste or Claudia more devout, Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi, was not of nobler birth or Lampito the Spartan so fortunate. Alcestis was no more devoted to her husband, Turia Aemilia was not so discreet and obedient, Portia or Sulpicia so loyal, Zenobia so noble-minded, or Niobe108 so fertile. For already, while still only a girl, your wife has successfully given birth four times,109 and has made you in your early manhood four times the father of a beautiful child, has four times renewed the delight of Spain and Germany with each infant grandchild, while providing us with an occasion for rejoicing with the appearance of each new prince. What can ever be so healthy for an empire, so well-fitted for sealing concord between kingdoms and for securing general peace throughout the world with the firmest of bonds, as the fecundity of good princes? For in general, as Horace110 says, 'brave men are born of brave fathers... nor do fierce eagles bring forth a dove of peace/ I will even omit the fact that when scarcely past your twenty-sixth year you have had the good fortune to see your grandfather111 Frederick (a man greater than the empire itself) as emperor, then your father Maximilian as a celebrated king of the Romans and long destined for his father's imperial position by sure and unanimous vote; in addition, your father-in-law, the king of Spain, already enriched by many additional lands112 and ennobled by his many victories, and now finally by four children already of almost godlike disposition and of boundless promise for the future. All this, I say, and much besides, I deliberately pass over; yet although some of it perhaps you share with other princes, I doubt if there has ever been a case where so much that is so remarkable has coincided in a single individual. For I am

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hurrying on to a feature which appears to be peculiarly and especially your own, a place where you stand out distinctively amongst all other fortunate princes of all time. Even if there have been quite a number of men who have enjoyed many splendid successes in their lifetime, and even some on whom fortune has so smiled that they have taken their surname from her (Timotheus,113 for example, in Greece, and Sulla"4 in Rome) yet none is remembered as being the sole man who could command the affections of his entire country, of nobles, kings, nations, almost the whole world, united in such warmth as if by destiny's good will. United, did I say? No, they were rivals. Who, pray, even of those who sought to buy the people's favour by feasts, gifts, largess, and distributions, was ever so popular with a single crowd as you are with so many nations? When Tuditanus115 scattered coins from the speaker's platform among the people, did he win as much feigned support as the genuine good will of your contemporaries, which you have gained solely from the admiration of your virtues? Who has ever been so dear to kings? Who has thus found a place deep in the affections of people of every rank and age, in public and private, at home and abroad? Who has ever seen you without starting to love you at once? Or rather, who has not been fired with longing for you at the mere sound of Philip's name? A magnet does not attract steel so effectively as you draw the hearts of all men to love of you. A nearby flame does not dart so speedily to naphtha as you easily penetrate the breasts of all. There have of course been several leaders, such as Julius Caesar, who have possessed a kind of aura of destiny, the gift of the gods, whereby not only the sight but even talk of them struck fear into the hearts of their enemies and renewed the spirit of their weary troops. But what was given to them to tip the balance of war is yours to create good will, to make an end of wars, to procure peace. Just as Nature for some hidden purpose has given the snake-charmers116 of the Psylli the power not to absorb venom and even to suck it out of others, so you are the victim of no man's hatred, and can even draw the poison of animosity from other men's minds, wherever you go. One of the philosophers117 denies that anyone who has no enemy can have a friend. He would recant and change his tune, I think, if he had seen you, Philip; for you are so beloved by your generation that no one is your enemy, and you even turn men who are enemies of each other into friends. That must necessarily be so, while you are so dear to all, and no men can hate each other who warmly love the same thing. The emperor Titus, for being a little less unpopular than the other emperors, was called darling of the world:118 but this finest of tributes fits no one so aptly as you, illustrious prince, who are the common delight of all nations, the one and only darling of your age,

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the natural favourite of kings. No one has heard of your fame without longing also to behold you with his own eyes; and though this can often lead to contempt, no one has seen you without admiring you more than before, nobody has watched you closely and attentively without looking up to you more, no one has been in your company without taking his departure with his devotion increased, though it had been as great as could be when you received him. It was your presence - and yours, I say, alone - and your conversation which was sought so eagerly by King Henry119 of England that for this very reason he did not hesitate to cross that channel of his which surrounds him and enter another world, so to speak, something he had never done since his accession.120 In this situation there could be some uncertainty about which did you the greater honour: the decision (whatever it was) of a man certainly not lacking in judgment who thought he should trust himself to the continent for a meeting of a few hours, leaving his island, though he well knew it was more dangerous for him to do so than for any Dionysius to leave Syracuse,121 or your own openness and the personal courtesy and confidence of your candid disposition, when you had your bodyguard removed and entrusted yourself, alone and unarmed, to British good faith. The most illustrious king of France so eagerly desired your arrival that he sent repeated invitations to you through his envoys, and he was so happy to have you as his guest and so delighted to entertain you that he thought he was not doing you honour so much as gaining great glory for himself thereby. The supremely wise and invincible king of Spain, after so many rich islands had been added to his empire, so many towns had been reduced, and barbarians so often routed, when so many victories had enlarged his realm and so many immortal triumphs had been celebrated, still thought that there was one thing lacking to complete the full circle of his happiness - the fact that he had not yet seen you, you whom he intended to have as partner and assistant in his wealth and power during his lifetime and as successor after his death. And so to achieve this he sent embassies far in advance, and displayed no less ingenuity and zeal than he had always exerted in the greatest wars. Each king chose to forget his resentment against the other rather than forego the pleasure of seeing you, and neither bore a grudge against the other, because both were rivals in good will in their wish to embrace you. And indeed, where could there be any noble prince who would not seek your friendship, aspire to a marriage tie, strive to be joined with you in some sort of relationship? This, Philip, this is the finest indication of your good fortunes, in which you outstrip all other favourites of fortune, drawn, as they say, by white horses,122 even though in other things you are second

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to none. For is there any old man who could count so many outstanding honours and distinctions in a lifetime as have come to you in youth? So why should I proceed to compare your greatness with those whom antiquity placed in a brief list of happy men? Well, a few words can suffice. But first let me pass over in silence the fabled good fortune of Gyges123 and say nothing about men like Psophidius,124 or Tellus,125 or Cleobis and Biton,126 for if they were lucky it benefitted only themselves and was due to no favour from fortune. My speech deals with a fortunate prince. Well, there was Polycrates,127 the king to whom fortune proved treacherous and was no protector when he came to a wretched end. Timotheus128 had his good fortune cast at him as a reproach by ill-wishers, who admitted his success but complained that it was none of his doing. The elder Metellus129 was blinded in old age, and his grandson's130 good fortune was overshadowed by his bold attacker Cato and then by his personal enemy, Scipio Aemilianus. As for Lucius Sulla, I certainly should not put him on the list, for he was called Felix131 without really being fortunate, or if he was, his fortune was only his own: for his country he was a disaster. Men in general have put Augustus Caesar in this category, but if anyone were to look carefully at his fortune, he would surely begin to wonder whether the light of day was more often a mother or a stepmother to him, so much did he mix the greatest evil with great good. But among the rare instances of fortune's favour, the case which generally first comes to mind is that of Scipio, the most popular and successful Roman general of all time. No one was so deadly to the enemy and yet so well liked in his day, and he was first assigned command of the war with Hannibal at about your own age and then elected consul132 by an enormous majority in the assembly. For my part, Philip, I often compare your Highness with this general, who seems to have been endowed by heaven more than anyone else with so much beauty, dignity, intelligence, skill, wisdom, and good fortune for the exercise of authority, and I do so gladly, not without a happy feeling of presentiment. Yet even his good fortune was not unbroken, and as many high distinctions have come to you, on the very threshold of life, as he enjoyed in a whole lifetime. And even if all this came to you by unsought divine favour (especially if these great advantages were evSofTos Kvpros, as the Greek proverb133 says, that is, caught in the net of a man asleep), that good fortune would belong to the principate, if not to the prince personally, and we should certainly congratulate the country, if not you yourself, and give thanks to the powers above for what comes to us in your person from their hands. But as things are, anyone who considers your character would not attribute a large part of your successes to heaven, unless we should be indebted to it once and for all, for our character and whatever we are. If good

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fortune is nothing other than the favour of a kindly deity, then nothing wins this favour so well as piety, and even among men, nothing is more popular, beloved, and admired than this single virtue. Therefore you owed your fortune to nothing but your virtue, unless, in accordance with Christian philosophy, you owed virtue itself to God. Moreover, if felicity ever deserves to be judged perfect in this life, it would be surprising if it were not found where remarkable physical gifts are matched by equal intellectual virtues, equalled in turn by successful fortune. You were given a rare type of physical beauty, but your mind was beauty unsurpassed and worthy of its lovely habitation. Your ancestry is magnificent, but your own deeds will make it still more glorious. The wind of fortune has blown kindly on you, but that was no more than your prudence, counsel, and forethought deserved. In others moderate power is liable to be hated and moderate prosperity is open to envy, but both power and prosperity are combined in you in high degree without being invidious for yourself nor hateful to anyone; they are popular and acceptable to high and low alike because everyone knows that your character is wholly incorruptible and eminently deserving of rewards such as these. For how, I ask, could you fail to win heaven's favour by your sincere reverence for God, and by a devotion to your father which would be remarkable even in a private individual? This, then, we pray the father may be permitted to enjoy and the son to display at all times, but in prosperity rather than adversity. Who amongst the common people bows to all his father's commands as you do? For whenever you must fall in with his wishes, you forget that you are a prince and remember only that you are his son. It has also been observed by the great theologians that in the ten commandments of what they call the Decalogue, only one thing was given its reward: that is, if a man had honoured his father and mother, not only did life everlasting await him, but even in this life his days would be many and prosperous. This has also been commonly remarked in those who respect the holy rites which a religion duly offers its deities; for it is said that throughout many centuries, every leader who has protected from acts of violence temples, monasteries, and men dedicated to God (as you do and will continue to do) has always been wonderfully successful in his conduct of affairs. On the other hand, anyone who has dared to violate the law of the church by his tyranny and to abuse his power against the clergy has paid for it to a God of vengeance by a miserable and premature death. As for your strict observance of conjugal fidelity,134 for my part I would not make this a reason for enlarging on your merits did not the usual conduct of other princes make it something rare and remarkable. For what God or man would not approve of your remarkable continence in your hot-blooded

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youth, your great self-control amidst fortune's lavish indulgence, your incredible modesty despite the great success of all your undertakings, your courtesy, affability, and good nature, which are so popular and unassuming that they could be a common man's, although your rank as prince is so exalted, and finally, though your power is absolute, your scrupulous care not to shed the blood even of the humblest of your subjects? Who indeed is more deserving of good fortune than one who derives nothing from it for his own way of life, nor claims anything for himself except what should bring the greatest benefit to all? Who has a better right to complete liberty of action, if not the man who is so lenient with everyone but never indulges himself? Finally, on whom should the gods bestow supreme good fortune, for which mortals offer their congratulations, if not on one who measures this not in any arrogant spirit nor for any personal gains, but wholly by the general benefits it brings his country? You have indeed something paternal in your nature, so that although there is nothing greater than you in your entire realm, there is equally no element so moderate, so merciful, so approachable. Accordingly you illustrate135 that finest of lessons, which Nature has taught us in the case of the bees: throughout the great swarm under your rule, you are the sole living being who has no sting, and, as far as you can, you never let fly your bolt except to do good. You have so strongly conceived a kind of universal father's affection for all your people that you are even eager to spare the guilty, either if they are willing to return to their senses, or if you permit yourself something which is against the laws, though you desire obedience to them, especially in accordance with your own example. Besides, no virtue is so proper to princes nor so welcome to the people as beneficence to the deserving and forgiveness of wrongdoers; for everyone admires and praises the other virtues in so far as they concern himself, but beneficence is applauded even by those who need nothing, and forgiveness is loved even by the wholly blameless. They approve other virtues as human, but admire this one as something divine. For since the prince performs the function of a sort of divinity among mortals, and nothing is more disposed towards beneficence or is more averse from severity than a god - and indeed, as Pliny136 says, being a god means nothing else but aiding a mortal - surely the greater the power anyone wields, the nearer he ought to approach that image; and the nearer he approaches it, the more mankind will revere him as if he were a god. Again, cruelty in a king is something so execrable that no tyrant has ever been so rash as not to put on a show of clemency. This quality, even if much praised, has shown itself in very few rulers without being marred by some fault attached to it. Maecenas'137 kindness of heart and abstention from

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bloodshed was spoilt by his flaw of effeminacy. Flavius Vespasian138 showed so much clemency that he is said to have wept and groaned even when punishment was just, but this merit was overshadowed by his avarice. Julius Caesar's clemency was only a pretence, Titus139 Vespasian assumed it along with the imperial power, and in many genuine cruelty is concealed. Many bear witness to the remarkable leniency of the emperor Augustus, especially Lucius Cinna,140 who led a conspiracy against him and was not only pardoned and allowed to go unpunished but was even received amongst the emperor's friends and called to the highest honours; and the emperor Hadrian141 is recorded as having been so mild in disposition that he would never allow charges even of lese-majeste. Yet the one stained the beginning and the other the end of his reign with bloodshed. But your own reputation for mildness is sound and outstanding; nothing has ever been heard 574 1*525 Neptune 119, 120 Nereus, sea god 243 Nero, Roman emperor 43, 45, 147, 220, 223, 227, 238, 252, 271 Nestor, king of Pylos 92, 98, 105 Nicholas of Lyra i45f Nicolas V, pope 499 n75 Niobe 133 Nireus, Homeric character 98, 116 Nizzoli, Mario 5471131, 554 ni46 nobility: definitions of 215, 268; urged to support piety of pontiffs 321; their love of hunting ii2f; their love of empty distinctions 116. See also princes

INDEX

nominalism 127 Nosoponus, character in Ciceronianus 327, 329, 339; representing Longueil 546 n26; representing Bembo 560 n26o Noyon, treaty of 290 Numa, legendary king of Rome 101 Octavian. See Augustus Odysseus. See Ulysses old age 92, io5f Olivar, Pedro Juan 542 ni8 Onesimus 234 Orcus (Hades) 88 Origen xvii, xxiii, 147, 487 ^81, 489 n637, 533 n25 Orleans xvi Orpheus 101 Orsini, Giangiordano, son-in-law of Julius ii 500 ng2 Otho, Roman emperor 46, 56, 513 n6i Ovid (Publius Ovidius Naso) 83, 307, 351, 366, 378, 392, 4iof, 427, 438, 446, 454 mi, 455 ^9, 468 n3i, 469 nn7i and 83, 470 mo3, niO4, nio6, nno, nii3, nn6, ni22, 471 ni32, 472 nni59 and 167, 478 nn342 and 345, 48111424, 483 0459, 499 nn72 and 73, 511 n23, 513 n73, 518 ni58, 521 n28, 525 n2, 526 ni7, 559 n236, 569 n433 Oxford xv-xvi Pace, Richard 423 Pacuvius, Roman tragedian 366, 392 Padua xix pagans: and warfare 307, 310; more peaceful than Christians 296; their influence on Christian literature 437^ their influence on Christian art 382, 396. See also Ciceronians Palaemon, grammarian 122 Pallas Athene. See Minerva Pan 86, 89, 93, 94 panoply, royal, symbolism of 135 papacy i38f. See also church, names of individual popes

630

Paris: College de Montaigu xv-xvii, xxi; theologians of 78, 80, 481 11413; glories of 21; university of 78, 492 n68. See also France, Frenchmen Paris, Trojan hero 108, 360, 478 n343 parricide 310 Pasini, Antonio (Tudertinus) 415 Paul, St xvi, xviii, xxviii, 81, 118, 127, 129, 130, 135, 139, i44f, i46f, 148, 149, 299, 315, 384, 386, 393, 395, 484 11491, 489 n637- See also Bible Paul iv, Pope 78 Paulinus of Nola, St 413 Paulus, Lucius Aemilius, Roman general 386, 454 ni6 Pausanias, Greek author 519 ni7o, 5221143 Pausanias, character in Plato's Symposium 476 n283 Paynell, Thomas, English translator of the Querela pads 291 paxRomana 290 peace 56f, 293-322 passim; golden age of 59f; benefits of 293, 316, 321; cost of 318; even an unjust one preferable to war 31 of pedants 144-7 Persuasion (Peitho) 343, 389, 442 Pelagians xi, xxv Peleus, father of Achilles 478 n343 Pellegrini, Alfonso 78 Penelope 112, 129, 130, 137 Pentheus, tyrant of Thebes 224 Pericles, Greek statesman 344, 546 ni5, 600 n82i Perillus 251 period, oratorical 347, 354, 370, 413 Persius Flaccus, Aulus, Roman satirist xiii, 339, 366, 471 ni52, 472 ni58, 475 n272, 476 n302, 478 n34O, 479 n368, 480 n383, 487 n568 Peter, St 118, 127, 128, 139, 157,160, 161-6, 168-97, 303, 384, 394, 484 0491, 494 n2 Peter Lombard 48111405 Petit, Jean xxi, 80 Petrarch 414, 506 ni78, 558 n226

INDEX

Petronius Arbiter, Roman novelist 167, 399 Phaedrus 468 n34, 472 ni58, 575 n54o Phaeton 212 Phalaris, tyrant of Acragas 87, 122, 222, 223, 244, 251 Phaon, beloved of Venus 93, 98, 106 Pharisees 148 Phidias, Greek sculptor 405 Philibert n, duke of Savoy 2, 27 Philip the Handsome, archduke of Austria 204, 256, 530 n8; character and ability of 29f, 38, 40, 41, 44f, 47f, 51, 60, 61, 63; physical qualities of 33f, 61; popularity of 2of, 35f, 48, 49, 7if; birth and ancestry of 33, 63-5; children of 14, 24; conjugal fidelity of 38; destiny of 11, 28, 64f; an example to descendants 6if, 63; paternal qualities of 34, 39, 62f; sense of family duty of 62; festive occasions in life of 66; fortunate prince 33-8, 48, 49, 66; illnesses of 15, 25; integrity of his associates 41, 45; invincible 52f; man of peace 26, 3of, 32, 52f, 57f, 59, 60; meets Henry vn 36; meets Margaret 27; journeys through France 21-3; journeys through Spain 23-6; journeys through Savoy 26f; compared with: Achilles 33, Aemilius Paulus 12-13, Aeneas 33f, 43, Agesilaus 48, Alexander the Great 30, 31, 52, 60, Antiochus 44, Julius Caesar 19, 30, 31, 52, Callipedes 16, Cecrops 19, Cleopatra 26f, Commodus 25, Croesus 19, Hadrian 31-2, Hector 47f, Hercules 28, Hesperus 10, Nero 45, Polycrates 19, Pompey 29, Scipio Africanus 12, 34, 37, Alexander Severus i2f, Solon 29f, Sulla 35, Timotheus 35, Tuditanus 35, Ulysses 28f, 43, Flavius Vespasian 45, Titus Vespasian 35f Philip the Good 6, 22, 33, 63, 64 Philip of Burgundy, bishop of Utrecht xiv, 290, 292

63i Philip of Macedon 253, 280, 460 ni5i philosophers, Folly on 99-102, i25f philosophy of Christ 81, 391, 406, 412, 447 Phocion, Greek hero 360, 385, 405, 439 Phrysius, Hermannus. See Herman, Haio physician, as metaphor for the good prince 242^ 254, 264, 266f, 274 Pico della Mirandola, Giovanni xvi, xxix, 416 Pico della Mirandola, Gianfrancesco 554 ni5O, 560 n26o, 576 n548 Pilate 303 Pindar, Greek poet 379, 393, 553 ni24 Pins, Jean de 421 Pio, Alberto, prince of Carpi 330, 420, 585 n663, 595 n^6 Pio, Giovanni Battista 418 Pirckheimer, Willibald 156, 427 Pisa, council of 159, 172, 178-85 Piso, Jacobus 428 Pius n, Pope 499 n75, 506 ni75 Pius in, Pope 500 n93 Plancus, Gnaeus, correspondent of Cicero 409 Platina. See Sacchi Plato xviii, xxiii, 104, 125, 143, 147, 368; his vision of reality 81; his division of the faculties 95; and trial of Socrates 100; on the invention of letters 107; on truth no; on the types of frenzy in; his use of the cave image 119,150; on the definition of philosophy 150; on the wise man i5of; on supreme happiness 152; his views on politics 'purer' than Aritotle's 251; his judgment praised 292; on war 310; his wisdom compared with Christ's 393; his Italian followers 447 Plato, works cited - Aldbiades 458 nio8, 461 ni83 - Apology 472 nni76 and 177, 488 n63i - Cratylus 475 n256, 489 n647, 517 ni47

INDEX - Gorgias 453 nj, 475 11261, 478 11330, 488 11628, 510113, 518 ni66 - Laws 200, 248, 264-7, 2^9/ 273, 274, 464 11243, 488 11633, 5°9 n2/ 513 n 59/ 5*7 11146, 519 ni73, 524 111119 and 20, 524 n22,1123,1125, 529 ni - Lysias 464 11244 - Phaedo 488 11630, 516 11133 - Phaedrus 47111137, 475 1111253 and 255, 476 11285, 489 11641 - Politicus 518 ni66 - Protagoras 510 1114 - Republic 200, 203, 212, 214, 222, 227, 244, 251, 261, 264, 283, 290, 457 n86, 46211214, 467 mi, 472 ni6o, 473 ni84, 478 n335, 480 ^87, 488 n632, 510 nn3 and 4, 511 n2i, 514 n78, 515 nn6, 516 ni2o, 517 ni47, ni49, ni5i, 524 n22, n24, n25, 528 1146, 529 nn3 and 4, 529 ni - Symposium 468 1147, 474 n2i3, 476 n273, 512 n47 - Timaeus 471 ni36 Plautus 92,166,167, 394, 469 n6o, 470 ng8, 471 ni38, 478 n^8, 507 ni87 Pleasure (Hedone) 89 Pleiade, La xii Pliny, the Elder 410, 446, 4681146, 469 n68, n6g, n77, 473 niSg, 475 n267, 476 n295, 478 n346, 511 nn25 and 26, 532 n3, 550 nn78 and 79, 554 nn 141-3, 558 nn228 and 229, 559 n253, 561 nn276 and 278, 574 n532 Pliny, the Younger xiv, 410, 430, 454 n22, 456 n7o, 459 nn6, 465 nn255 and 257, 480 n383, 549 n56, 551 n88, 559 n253, 574 nn532 and 533 Plotinus 488 n627, 489 n637 Plutarch xxi, xxvi, 83, 251, 390 Plutarch, works cited - Lives Agis 526*17 Aemilius Paulus 455 rujS, 460 ni59 Agesilaus 458 nio8 Alcibiades 523 ni2 Alexander 460 nni5i and 152, 461 ni86, 463 n2i8, 509 n8, 520 nni3

632

and 16, 522 n37, 523 nn, 531 n7 Aristides 522 n42, 563 ^23, 571 "478 Caesar 462 ni96, 487 n585 Cato minor 461 nni76 and 189, 551 n87, 571 n479 Cicero 555 ni7o, 556 ni92, 557 nni95 and 196, 570 11454, 571 n4&o Demosthenes 549 n56, 550 nn74 and 75, 551 nn87 and 93, 472 ni73 Gracchi 473 ni86 Mark Antony 457 n73 Numa 463 n223 Pelopidas 563 n32o Phocion 461 ni87, 563 n3i9, 571 "477 Sertorius 473 nn2oi and 203 Solon 527 n26, 528 n39 - Moralia 200, 203, 219, 457 n78, 459 nii7, 460 nni42 and 143, 461 nni66 and 167, 462 nni93 and 195, 463 n2i7, 467 ni7, 473 nn2oo and 202, 509 n8, 510 nn, ni2, ni8, nig, 513 nn57 and 58, 515 nii5, n5i7 ni47, 518 ni58, ni6i, ni63, 519 ni, 520 n2, n6, nio, ni7, 521 n26, 523 1149, 524 n22, 526 n2, 528 1140, 531 nni and 12, 556 ni85, 561 n282, 566 n365, 572 n495, 574 n522 Pluto 119 Plutus 88 poets, Folly on 123 Poggio Bracciolini 415 Poland, men of letters in 428 Pole, Reginald 327, 424, 590 n7O3, 598 n 79^/ 599 nnSoi and 810 Poliziano, Angelo 363, 416, 428, 4435, 555 ni58 Pollio, Gaius Asinius, critic and correspondent of Cicero 358, 359, 404, 409 Polycrates, rhetorician 83, 125 Polycrates, tyrant of Samos 19, 37, 42, 244 Polyphemus (Cyclops) 94, 114, 212 Pompey (Gaius Pompeius Magnus) 19, 167, 409 Pontano, Giovanni 329, 436f

INDEX

Porcius Latro 364 Portugal, literary men in 429 Priapus, god of fertility 94, 120, 133, 142 Prie, Cardinal de 500 n96 priests. See clergy princes: Folly on 135-7; and power 5; and peace 5if, 55, 317; duty of 43f, 62; emulation of, by people 46f; glory of 56-9; friends of 41; corrupted by rivalry 297; should be wiser than ordinary men 296f; to be bound by friendship not treaties 313; to heed Christ as their king 300, 320; to judge everything by the common good 313; polluted with human blood 306; should be able to transfer any part of their realms 312; start war in their own interest 307 Probus, Aemilius 410 Proclus, Greek scientist 589 n693 Prometheus 105 Propertius 476 n298 Prudentius, Aurelius Clemens, Christian poet 437, 601 n832 Publius Syrus, Roman mime writer 359 Pyrenees 315 Pythagoras 90, 108, 121, 350 quiddities, concept of 126, 127 Quintilian (Marcus Fabius Quintilianus) 100, 124, 345, 350, 358, 359, 36o, 361, 366, 367, 370, 373, 377, 379/ 387, 4«3i/ 409*, 4*3, 426, 433, 438, 442, 444, 450 ni4; Declamationes spurious 410; his Institutio oratorla quoted 463 n234, 465 n255, 471 11151, 472 ni53, ni64, ni66, 473 ni83, 480 n378, 483 n46i, 11468, 11478, 486 n543, 510 n8, 548 n48, 549 nn56 and 59, 550 nn6g and 78, 551 n83, n88, nn9o~93, 552 n95, n97, nnioo-2, niO5, mog, nnii2-4, 553 nii5, nn6, ni2o, ni2i, ni26, ni29, ni35, 554 ni38, 555 ni6i, ni64, ni65, ni67, ni7o, 556 ni7i, ni72, ni74, ni75, ni77, ni79, ni88,

633 558 n230, 559 n238, n24i, n243, n245, n246, nn248~5O, 560 nn257~9, 561 n283, 563 n3i2, 564 n33i, 565 n36o, 566 n373, 567 n4O5, 569 n437, n439, n442, n443, 570 ^52, n455, n462, n464, 57111467, nr\469-72, n475, 572 n49i, 573 n5i6, 575 n 535> 576 n553/ 580 n6o4, 594 n75i, 598 n792, 602 nn852 and 868, 603 n873 Quiroga, Caspar de, Spanish inquisitor-general 79 Rabelais, Frangois xii, 495 n2i, 497 1145 Ravenna, battle of 173, 174 realism, theological school of 127 Remigius of Auxerre 414 Reuchlin, Johann (Capnion) 427 Revelry (Comus) 89 Rhenanus, Beatus xiii, 332, 493 n79, 574 "527 Rhetorica ad Herennium 364, 370, 442, 556 ni84, 566 n376, 602 n847 rhetoric: Folly on its practicioners Sjf, i23f; mendicants' use of i32f Rhine 297, 315 Rhodes, worship of Apollo at 120 Rhodian style. See style Rhodiginus. See Ricchieri Riario, Cardinal 161, 502 ni27 Ricchieri, Lodovico (Caelius Rhodiginus) 420 Rimini 500 n87 Rogers, Elizabeth Frances 465 114, 467 n6 Rome: civil institutions of ancient 383, 385, 386, 392, 395, 431-3; religious institutions of ancient 383, 384, 386, 389, 395, 396, 408, 437, 438; sixteenth-century Latin in 384, 405ff, 432, 434; Good Friday sermon of 1509 held in 384; 1527 sack of 585 nn656 and 663, 595 n756, 597 n775; Erasmus in xix-xxi; warlike inhabitants of 52, 56, 319; delusions of Romans 117. See also Italy, Italians

INDEX

Ronsard ix, xxix Rorario, Girolamo 156 Roscius, Quintus, Roman actor 399 Rovere, Francesco Maria della, nephew of Julius ii 500 nngo and 91 Rovere, Raffaelle della, father of Julius ii 496 n30 Ruel, Jean. See Du Ruel Ruistre, Nicholas, bishop of Arras 6, 465 na66 rulers. See princes Ruze, Louis 325 Sabellico, Marcantonio Cacci 418 Sabinius Calvisius 477 n32i Sacchi, Bartolomeo (Platina) 417 Sadoleto, Jacopo 325, 329, 436, 599 n8ii Saint-Omer xvii Sagana, character in Horace 134 Sallust (Gaius Sallustius Crispus) 200, 251, 359, 365, 377, 409, 442, 444, 509 ni Sannazaro Jacopo (Actius Syncerus) 3*9/ 437f Sanseverino, Cardinal 500 n96, 503 ni34 Sapphira 194 Sappho 93, 472 m67 Saracens 286 Sardanapalus 380, 386 satire xi-xiii Saturn (Kronos) 89, 119 Satyre Menippee xiii, 495 n2i Saul, king 149 Sauvage, Jean le, chancellor of Burgundy 290 Saxo Grammaticus, Danish historian 424 Saxony, men of letters in 427 Scaevola, Quintus Mucius, Roman lawyer 419 Scala, Bartolomeo 418, 443, 577 n$66 Scaliger, Joseph Justus 334 Scaliger, Julius Caesar 334 Sceptics (Academicians) 118 Schade, Peter. See Mosellanus, Petrus

634

Schepper, Cornelius Duplicius de 332, 42if Scheurl, Christoph 156 Schurer, Matthias 80 Scipio Africanus, Publius Cornelius, Roman general 12, 20, 34, 37, 42, 49, 58, 59, 218, 248, 279, 381, 385, 386, 392, 454 ni5; family of 176, 193 scholastic style. See style Scotland, inhabitants of 117, 189, 286, 3*5/ 424 Scotus, Duns xvi, xxiii-xix, xxx, 127, 128, 129, 133, 142, 387 Scythians 304 Sebillet, Thomas xii Sejanus, praetorian prefect under Tiberius 141 Self-love (Philautia) 89, gSf, n6f, 126 Semele, mother of Bacchus 470 nn6 Seneca, Lucius, the Elder 551 n92, 555 ni64, 556 ni7i Seneca, Lucius Annaeus, the Younger 83, 104, 116, 147, 200, 238, 251, 358, 359, 366, 373, 378, 392, 409, 444, 513 n7i; works cited 164, 208, 210, 222, 225, 228, 244, 251, 265, 460 nni37 and 140, 461 ni85, 464 n254, 467 ni6, 469 ng4, 473 nigo, 474 nn225 and 227, 477 m\3i4 and 321, 478 n337, 487 n56g, 510 nnio and 12, 511 n26, n3i, n36, 512 n 39/ 5*3 n7°' 515 nnin and 112, 516 nni23 and 129, 518 ni56, 519 ni75, 528 n45, 549 nn57 and 58, 551 n94, 552 ni07, 553 nn6, 556 niSg, 558 n226, 566 n377, 569 n44i, 570 nn459 and 464, 601 n835, 603 n887 Sensuality (Tryphe) 89 Sepulveda, Juan Gines de (Genesius) 429, 586 n664, 596 n76i Sertorius, Roman rebel in Spain 101 Servius 470 nio5 Seven Sages 96 Severus, Alexander, Roman emperor i2f, 41, 51

INDEX

Seyssel, Claude de 200 's Hertogenbosch xiv ship, of state 206, 220, 239, 253 shipwreck, law of 270 Silenus, tutor of Bacchus 94, 102, 103 Silius Italicus, Roman poet 299, 525 n2 Simeon Stylites, St 482 ^46 Simon Magus 169 simony 172 Sisyphus 128 Sixtus iv, Pope 161, 171,175, 497 n53, 504 ni55 Sixtus v, Pope 78 Socrates ggf, 101, 111, 143, 385, 393, 476 nn285 and 293, 479 n^6z, 488 n63i Sleep (Negretos Hypnos) 89 soldiers 304. See also mercenaries Solinus, Gaius Julius, Roman historian 410 Solomon 143, 203, 252, 287, 300, 365, 393, 486 n547 Solon, Athenian lawgiver 29, 30, 86, 129 sophists 86 Sophocles 30, 91, 365, 392, 469 ngi Spain 14, 23f, 27f, 173, 186, 190, 306, 428, 429; inhabitants of 117, 315 Spartans 2gf, 5if, 56 Spartianus, Aelius, Roman historian 410 Spiegel, Jakob 332, 340, 427 Standonck, John xv Statius 473 ni97 Stentor, Homeric character 125 Sthenelus, Homeric character 125 Steyn, monastery of xiv, xviii Stewart, Alexander xix-xx, 530 n7 Stoics xviii, 81, 90, 91, 95, 97,104,109, no, 127, 143, 290 stork 241, 294 Strasbourg xx, xxi Stunica. See Lopez de Zuniga Sturm, Jakob 340 style: African 409; Asiatic 358, 377; Attic 377, 378, 421, 423, 425, 435, 443, 581 n6i4; Christian 372ff, 383,

635 386, 387**, 39iff, 436ff, 439; Gallic 413; Rhodian 377; Roman 386, 4O5ff; scholastic 387, 390, 414 Suarez, Francisco xxx Suetonius Tranquillus, Gaius 409; works quoted 454 n29, 455 n35, 1143, 045, n5o, 459 nnii6 and 118, 460 nni38 and 139, 461 m62, ni7i, ni72, ni77~9, ni84, 462 nn2og and 212, 463 nn2i9 and 225, 466 n4, 474 n2i8, 485 n5i4, 500 n94, 509 ni, 513 n6i, n69, n7i, 516 ni28, 517 n2i, 520 nni4 and 15, 521 n22, 522 nn39 and 40, 525 ni, 527 n28, 528 n4i, n43, n44, 552 nio6, 572 n50i Sulla, Roman dictator 35, 37 Sulpicius Severus, Christian writer 413 Sulpicius Severus, correspondent of Cicero 409 superstition 107, 113-5, 39^ Swabians, hostility to Swiss 286 Sylvester i, Pope 192 Sylvester, Richard 466 rui, 473 nig3 Symmachus, Quintus Aurelius 411 Syncerus, Actius. See Sannazaro Synesius, bishop 83 syphilis 496 n32 Tacitus, Cornelius 409; works cited 471 ni32, 473 ni86, 487 n586, 527 n3i, 528 n44, 550 n8i, 551 nngi and 93, 552 nn95 and 113, 555 ni65, 571 n475, n482, n487, 573 ^07, 596 "763 Tagliacarne, Bendetto 572 0488 Tantalus 104, 243 Tauris, temple of Diana at 478 n345 Tarentum, worship of Neptune at 120 Tartarus 139 taxation 236, 256, 260-2, 264, 267 Telemachus, son of Ulysses 72, 125, 142 Tenedos, double axe of 126 Terence (Publius Terentius Afer) 166, 167, 342, 344-346, 349, 363, 365,

INDEX

387, 398; works cited 454 nni8 and 21, 455 1173, 467 na67 474 1111219 and 236, 475 ^44, 476 n282, 495 nig, 496 n39, 499 n72, 501 moi, 504 ni49, 545 n6, 546 ni4, 602 n85o Tertullian (Quintus Septimius Tertullianus) 390, 413, 443, 566 n366 Teyng, Jacob (Jacobus Ceratinus Hornensis) 425 Thales, presocratic philosopher 88 Thamus, king of Egyptian Thebes 475 n255 Thecla, St 382 Themistocles, Greek statesman 101, 405 Theocritus, Greek pastoral poet 393, 395, 472 ni6i, 552 nio4 Theognis, Greek lyric poet 476 n292 theologians: Folly on 1271; their presumption 128-30; their imaginings about hell 130; argue with lawyers 297 Theophrastus, Greek scientist and philosopher 100, 446 Theopompus, Spartan king 281 Thersites, Homeric character 83, 98 Theseus 477 n3o6 Thetis, mother of Achilles 469 n65, 478 n343 Thomas a Kempis 545 ni2 Thomas Aquinas xvi, xxiv, xxx, 127, *y>> 387* 390, 4*4 Thoth, Egyptian god 107 Thraso, character in Terence 172, 504 ni49 Thrasymachus, sophist 125, 480 ^87 Thurinus 246 Tiberius, Roman emperor 271, 467 n4 Tibullus, Roman poet 476 n298, 499 n72 Timon, misanthropic philosopher 101 Timotheus, Athenian general 35, 37, 141 Tiro, Marcus Tullius, Cicero's secretary 362, 409 Tithonus, beloved of Aurora 93, 470 nio5 Titian xix

636

Titus Vespasianus, Roman emperor 35f, 40, 47 titles, honorific 116, 188, 234, 248f Tomarozzo, Flaminio 600 n8i4 Tortelli, Giovanni 415 Toulouse, lost gold of 141 Tournehem. See Borssele, Anna van Tours, synod of 501 nio6 Toussain, Jacques 331 Trachalus, Galerius, Roman orator 361 Trajan, Roman emperor xiv, 252 treason 27if treaties 275-7, 2^6, 294. See also Cambrai, Noyon, Lyons etc Trebellius Pollio, Roman historian 410 Trebonius, Gaius, correspondent of Cicero 409 Trebizond, George of 4i6f Trophonius, cave of 86 Troy 92 Tuditanus 35 Tudertinus. SeePasini Turin xix Turks: treaties with 305, 320; war with 190, 217, 286f, 310, 319^ 497 n52, 594 n748; conversion of 314; their sultan compared with Julius ii 196; their delusions 117; their influence on Christian religion 306 tyrants 164, 209, 214, 222-32, 258, 271, 494 n3, 501 nno, 507 n2O5 Ubaldi, Blado degli 421 Ulpian 521 n25, 526 114 Ulysses 17, 28f, 30, 43, 72, 83, 108, 203, 212, 277, 480 n3&5 Urbino 500 n92 Urceo, Antonio Codro 372, 416 Ursinus Velius, Caspar (Kaspar Bernhard) 331, 428 Utenheim, Christoph von 340 Uutenhove, Karel van 335 Valdes, Fernando de, Spanish inquisitor-general 78 Valerius Maximus, Roman writer 409,

637

INDEX

453 nn2 and 3, 459 nnii5 and 124, 461 nniS/ and 188, 462 ni94, 463 n22o, 512 n48, 520 ni8, 523 nio, 527 n2i, 531 ni4 Valla, Giorgio 418 Valla, Lorenzo xix, 415, 443, 506 nni78 and 180, 554 ni46 Varro, Marcus Terentius 390, 566 11371 Vatinius, Publius 405, 409 Vejoves, Etruscan deity 478 n342 Velleius Paterculus, Gaius, Roman historian 410 Venice xxix, 78, 117, 161-3, 172> *76f/ 189 Venus (Aphrodite) 90, 93f, 111, 118120, 469 n64, 480 n4O3 Verard, Antoine 521 n3O Verres, Caius 405 Vespasian, Flavius, Roman emperor 17, 40, 45, 47, 252, 520 ni5 vestments, holy, symbolism of i37f Victorinus, Marcus, Roman grammarian 451 n28, 462 n2oi Viglius Zuichemus (Wigle Aytta of Zwichem) 543 n43, 562 n3o8 Vincent, Augustin (Caminade) xvi Vincent of Beauvais 134 Vio, Tommaso de 498 n64, 501 nii2 Virgil (Publius Vergilius Maro) 83, 123, 163, 367, 379, 390, 392, 4iof, 438, 556 ni86; works cited 115, 166, 239, 279, 285, 349, 350, 432, 453 n6, nio, ni9, n24, 456 n65, 462 nn2O3 and 207, 467 n8, 469 nn8i and 82, 470 nng6 and 105, 472 ni72, 474 nn223 and 231, 475 nn263 and 265, 476 nn286 and 287, 477 n3i3, 478 n348, 479 n36o, 480 n38g, 481 n424, 482 nn435 an