Popular History of France from the Earliest Times
Oct 14, 2026 · 3 hr 56 min · 42 segments
Praise of Folly by Desiderius Erasmus is a seminal work that employs wit and satire to critique the follies of society, particularly those found in religious practices and human behavior. Through the…
As I was coming a while since out of Italy for England, that I might not waste all that time I was to sit on horseback in foolish and illiterate fables, I chose rather one while to revolve with myself something of our common studies, and other while to enjoy the remembrance of my friends, of whom I left here some no less learned than pleasant.
Among these, you, my More, came first in my mind, whose memory, though absent yourself, gives me such delight in my absence, as when present with you I ever found in your company.
Than which, let me perish if in all my life I ever met with anything more delectable.
And therefore, being satisfied that something was to be done, and that that time was nowise proper for any serious matter, I resolved to make some sport with the praise of folly.
But who the devil put that in your head, you'll say.
The first thing was your surname of More, which comes so near the word moriae, folly, as you are far from the thing.
And that you are so, all the world will clear you.
In the next place, I conceive this exercise of wit would not be least approved by you, inasmuch as you are one to be delighted with such kind of mirth, that is to say, neither unlearned, if I am not mistaken, nor altogether insipid, and in the whole course of your life have played the part of a Democritus.
And though such is the excellence of your judgment that it was ever contrary to that of the people's, yet such is your incredible affability and sweetness of temper that you both can and delight to carry yourself to all men a man of all hours.
Wherefore you will not only with good will accept this small declamation, but take upon you the defense of it, for as much as being dedicated to you, it is now no longer mine but yours.
But perhaps there will not be wanting some wranglers that may cavil and charge me, partly that these toys are lighter than may become a divine, and partly more biting than may beseem the modesty of a Christian, and consequently exclaim that I resemble the ancient comedy or another Lucian, and snarl at everything.
But I would have them whom the lightness or foolery of the argument may offend to consider that mine is not the first of this kind, but the same thing that has been often practiced even by great authors.
When Polycrates and his corrector Isocrates extolled tyranny, Glauco injustice, Favorinus deformity and the quarten egg, Synesius baldness, Lucian the fly and flattery.
When Seneca made such sport with Claudius' canonizations, Plutarch with his dialogue between Ulysses and Gryllus, Lucian and Apuleius with the ass, and some other, I know not who, with the hog that made his last will and testament, of which also even St. Jerome makes mention.
And therefore, if they please, let them suppose I played at tables for my diversion, or if they had rather have it so, that I rode on a hobby-horse.
For what injustice is it that when we allow every course of life its recreation, that study only should have none? Especially when such toys are not without their serious matter, and foolery is so handled that the reader that is not altogether thick-skulled may reap more benefit from it than from some men's crabbish and specious arguments.
As when one with long study and great pains patches many pieces together on the praise of rhetoric or philosophy, another makes a panegyric to a prince, another encourages him to a war against the Turks, another tells you what will become of the world after himself is dead, and another finds out some new device for the better ordering of goat's wool.
For as nothing is more trifling than to treat of serious matters triflingly, so nothing carries a better grace than so to discourse of trifles as a man may seem to have intended them least.
For my own part, let other men judge of what I have written.
Though yet, unless an overweening opinion of myself may have made me blind in my own cause, I have praised folly, but not altogether foolishly.
And now to say somewhat to that other cavil of biting.
This liberty was ever permitted to all men's wits, to make their smart, witty reflections on the common errors of mankind, and that too without offence, as long as this liberty does not run into licentiousness, which makes me the more admire the tender ears of the men of this age that can away with solemn titles.
No, you'll meet with some so preposterously religious that they will sooner endure the broadest scoffs even against Christ himself than hear the Pope or Prince be touched in the least, especially if it be anything that concerns their profit.
As I was coming a while since out of Italy for England, that I might not waste all that time I was to sit on horseback in foolish and illiterate fables, I chose rather one while to revolve with myself something of our common studies, and other while to enjoy the remembrance of my friends, of whom I left here some no less learned than pleasant.
Among these, you, my More, came first in my mind, whose memory, though absent yourself, gives me such delight in my absence, as when present with you I ever found in your company.
Than which, let me perish if in all my life I ever met with anything more delectable.
And therefore, being satisfied that something was to be done, and that that time was nowise proper for any serious matter, I resolved to make some sport with the praise of folly.
But who the devil put that in your head, you'll say.
The first thing was your surname of More, which comes so near the word moriae, folly, as you are far from the thing.
And that you are so, all the world will clear you.
In the next place, I conceive this exercise of wit would not be least approved by you, inasmuch as you are one to be delighted with such kind of mirth, that is to say, neither unlearned, if I am not mistaken, nor altogether insipid, and in the whole course of your life have played the part of a Democritus.
And though such is the excellence of your judgment that it was ever contrary to that of the people's, yet such is your incredible affability and sweetness of temper that you both can and delight to carry yourself to all men a man of all hours.
Wherefore you will not only with good will accept this small declamation, but take upon you the defense of it, for as much as being dedicated to you, it is now no longer mine but yours.
But perhaps there will not be wanting some wranglers that may cavil and charge me, partly that these toys are lighter than may become a divine, and partly more biting than may beseem the modesty of a Christian, and consequently exclaim that I resemble the ancient comedy or another Lucian, and snarl at everything.
But I would have them whom the lightness or foolery of the argument may offend to consider that mine is not the first of this kind, but the same thing that has been often practiced even by great authors.
When Polycrates and his corrector Isocrates extolled tyranny, Glauco injustice, Favorinus deformity and the quarten egg, Synesius baldness, Lucian the fly and flattery.
When Seneca made such sport with Claudius' canonizations, Plutarch with his dialogue between Ulysses and Gryllus, Lucian and Apuleius with the ass, and some other, I know not who, with the hog that made his last will and testament, of which also even St. Jerome makes mention.
And therefore, if they please, let them suppose I played at tables for my diversion, or if they had rather have it so, that I rode on a hobby-horse.
For what injustice is it that when we allow every course of life its recreation, that study only should have none? Especially when such toys are not without their serious matter, and foolery is so handled that the reader that is not altogether thick-skulled may reap more benefit from it than from some men's crabbish and specious arguments.
As when one with long study and great pains patches many pieces together on the praise of rhetoric or philosophy, another makes a panegyric to a prince, another encourages him to a war against the Turks, another tells you what will become of the world after himself is dead, and another finds out some new device for the better ordering of goat's wool.
For as nothing is more trifling than to treat of serious matters triflingly, so nothing carries a better grace than so to discourse of trifles as a man may seem to have intended them least.
For my own part, let other men judge of what I have written.
Though yet, unless an overweening opinion of myself may have made me blind in my own cause, I have praised folly, but not altogether foolishly.
And now to say somewhat to that other cavil of biting.
This liberty was ever permitted to all men's wits, to make their smart, witty reflections on the common errors of mankind, and that too without offence, as long as this liberty does not run into licentiousness, which makes me the more admire the tender ears of the men of this age that can away with solemn titles.
No, you'll meet with some so preposterously religious that they will sooner endure the broadest scoffs even against Christ himself than hear the Pope or Prince be touched in the least, especially if it be anything that concerns their profit.
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