"Your letters gave me at once joy and pain. That you should, as you ought, familiarly and as a friend, confide to your Mountjoy your plans, your thoughts, your misfortunes and troubles, was a joy indeed; but to learn that you, my dearest friend, to whom above all I desire to be of service, were assailed by such varied shafts of fortune, that was a grief."
Even before the king's death a letter[86] had been sent to Erasmus by the Prince of Wales, but it contained nothing more than a formal compliment upon the great clearness of his style, and a mild reproof that he had had the bad tact to recall to him the recent loss of his royal brother, the King of Castile. Next time, he hopes, he may write of something more agreeable.
But, if he was not "called" to England, certainly Erasmus had reason to believe he would be welcome there. The accession of the young king, whose generous disposition and taste for the refinements of life were well known, seemed to open up a vista of promise for all kinds of talent. Mountjoy writes[87]:
"I have no fear, my dear Erasmus, but that when you hear that our prince Henry octavus, or rather Octavius, has by the death of his father succeeded to the kingdom, all gloom will at once vanish from your mind. For what may you not promise yourself from a prince whose extraordinary—nay, almost divine character is well known to you; to whom especially you are not merely known, but known familiarly—why, you have even received letters from him written with his own hand—a thing which has happened to few men. If you knew how like a hero he now appears, how wisely he conducts himself, how he loves truth and justice, what favour he is showing to men of letters, I dare swear, though you have no wings, you would fly over to us in all haste to greet this new and auspicious star.
"Oh! my dear Erasmus, if you could only see how wild with joy everyone here is, how they are congratulating themselves on having such a prince, how they pray for nothing more earnestly than for his life, you could not help weeping for joy. The very air is full of laughter, the earth dances, everything flows with milk and honey and nectar. Avarice slinks away far from the people; generosity scatters wealth with lavish hand. Our king is eager, not for gold, not for gems and precious stones, but for virtue, glory, and immortality. I will give you a taste:—the other day he was wishing himself more learned—'nay,' I said, 'that is not what we wish for you, but rather that you may welcome and encourage learned men.' 'Why should I not,' he replied, 'for indeed without them I can scarce exist.' What nobler word could have fallen from a prince's lips? But I am a rash fellow to venture out upon the ocean in my slender bark; let this task be reserved for you. I wanted to preface my letter with these few words in praise of our divine prince, so that, if any gloom remains in your heart, I might straightway banish it, or, if it is all gone, that I might not only confirm the hope you have formed, but more and more increase it....
"I could console you and bid you be of good cheer, did I not believe that whatever you could dare to wish for, you have already on your own account very reasonable hopes of attaining. You shall think that the last day of your troubles has dawned. You shall come to a prince who will say:—'here are riches; be the chief of my poets.'"
The letter then briefly summarises the contents of the lost epistle and continues: