Meanwhile, in spite of Papal Nuncios, the preparations for the continuance of the war proceeded as before. There were no signs of peace. The King had had a dangerous illness, but had risen from his couch ‘fierce as ever against France.’[473]
With heavy hearts Colet and Erasmus held on their way. The war lay like a dark cloud on their horizon. It was throwing back their work. How it had changed the plans of Erasmus has been shown. It had also made Colet’s position one of greater difficulty. It is true that hitherto royal favour had protected him from the hatred of his persecutors, but the Bishop of London and his party were more exasperated against him than ever, and who could tell how soon the King’s fickle humour might change? His love of war was growing wilder and wilder. He was becoming intoxicated by it. And who could tell what the young King might do if his passions ever should rise into mastery over better feelings? Even the King’s present favour, though it had preserved Colet as yet unharmed in person, did not prevent his being cramped and hindered in his work. Whatever he might do was sure to be misconstrued, and to become the subject of the ‘idle talk of the malevolent.’[474]
Colet troubled by family disputes.
It would seem also that other clouds than that of the war cast their shadow at this time over Colet’s life. By the erection and foundation of his school, he had reduced his income almost more than he could well afford,[475] and accustomed, as he was, to abundant means, it was natural that he should be harassed and annoyed by anything likely still further to narrow his resources. He seems to have been troubled with vexed questions of property and family dispute—most irksome of all others to a man who was giving life and wealth away in a great work.
Erasmus, six months previously, in July 1513, had written to Colet thus:—
Erasmus advises Colet to give in.
‘The end of your letter grieved me, for you write that you are more harassed than usual by the troubles of business. I desire indeed for you to be removed as far as possible from worldly business; not because I am afraid lest this world, entangled though it be, should get hold of you and claim you for its own, but because I had rather such genius, such eloquence, such learning should be devoted wholly to Christ. What if you should be unable to extricate yourself from it! Take care lest little by little you become more and more deeply immersed in it. Perhaps it might be better to give in, rather than to purchase victory at so great a cost. For peace of mind is worth a great deal. And these things are the thorns which accompany riches. In the meantime, oppose a good honest conscience to the idle talk of the malevolent. Wrap yourself up in Christ and in him alone, and this entangled world will disturb you less. But why should I, like the sow, preach to Minerva; or, like the sick man, prescribe for the doctor? Farewell, my best beloved teacher!’—From Cambridge, July 11 [1513].[476]
Six months had passed since Erasmus had thus advised his friend to give in rather than to conquer at the cost of his peace of mind, but Colet had not yet succeeded in getting rid of his perplexities. It would almost seem that the same old quarrel was still lingering on unhealed; for there was now a dispute between Colet and an aged uncle of his, and the bone of contention was a large amount of property.[477]
Colet does give in at last.