[This letter is printed at the end of Guielermi Hermani Goudensis, theologi ac poete clarissimi, Sylua Odarum, Paris, G. Marchand, 20 Jan. 1497; a volume edited by Erasmus. When visiting Steyn in the summer of 1496 he persuaded Herman to entrust some of his poems to him for publication; and on his return to Paris he showed them to Gaguin and persuaded the leader of the Parisian literary world to write a letter in answer to one he had brought from Herman, which might serve as a preface to his friend's volume (GE. 77, dated 16 or 17 Sept. (1496)). In this letter Erasmus represents himself as breaking faith in publishing the poems, and of this profession Cornelius Gerard subsequently availed himself in the matter of Erasmus' Paraphrase of Valla's Elegantiae (p. 93) ; but in 1503 Erasmus writing to Herman (Ep. 178) claims to have acted with complete candour, and there can be no doubt that Herman was aware of the intended publication, the representations in Erasmus' letter being only, an affectation of the modesty considered polite in a young author (cf. p. 121). The volume contains eighteen poems by Herman dealing with the friends and circumstances of his early life (see pp. 77, 87, 92, 118, 128, 133, 136, 169) and one by Erasmus (p. 155), each poem having a brief argument which was probably added by Erasmus at the time of publication. Besides the edition here mentioned Marchand printed another which is exactly similar in all respects, except that the name and device of the stationer Denis Roce appear on the title-page. M. Thuasne (GE. i. 128) also notes an edition of the same date by Johannes Philippi, who subsequently printed for Erasmus in 1500 and 1501 (Epp. 126 and 152); but I cannot discover the volume he refers to. The copy mentioned in the library of St. Geneviève at Paris is the simple Marchand edition. He also takes the date of the publication to be 20 Jan. 149; but see EHR. xix. 585. A selection from Herman's Odes was subsequently reprinted by Adrian Barland with Erasmus' De ratione studii, Louvain, Th. Martens, 24 Sept. 1512. Henry of Bergen († 6 or 7 Oct. 1502), second son of John, fifth Lord of Glimes and Bergen-op-Zoom (p. 144). On 3 May 1477, being already LL.D. and Canon of Liège, he received the Abbey of St. Denis-en-Broqueroie near Mons. When he became Bp. of Cambray, 17 May 1480, he refused to surrender the Abbey, and maintained it by force against the papal nominee until 1487, when he went on pilgrimage to Jerusalem (GC. iii. 109, 10 and 50). On his return he visited Rome in Dec. 1487 (Burchard, i. 279 and 282). His patronage of Erasmus probably began in 1493 (App. 5), perhaps in consequence of his promotion in April of that year to be Chancellor of the Order of the Golden Fleece (de Reiffenberg, Hist. . . . Toison d'Or, p. 217). In July 1493 he again resorted to force to assert the claim of his brother Antony to the Abbey of St. Bertin at St. Omer, see p. 334. As Chancellor he was the chief ecclesiastic at the court of Burgundy, and celebrated the marriage of Philip with Joanna of Spain at Brussels, 21 Oct. 1496, and also many christenings (Molinet, 288, 299, 306, 312). In July 1498 he was sent on an embassy to England (p. 203, and cf. Molinet, 304). He is said to have enlarged the 'Collegium Porci' at Louvain, but this is perhaps to be understood of the support given by him to Standonck (p. 200) in his reforms (Molinet, 318). In Nov. 1501 he set out with Philip on his journey to Spain, but after arriving there he quarrelled with Francis Busleiden, the Abp. of Besançon (Ep. 157), 'die onsen Princke (Philip) ghehelick op sijn handte hadde' (John of Naaldwyk, Chronicle, Brit. Mus. MS. Vitell. F. xv. f. 346 vº), and was sent back, his brother John being at the same time deprived of his office of Chamberlain. He reached Château Cambrésis in Sept. 1502 (Macquéreau, Chronicque de Bourgoigne, ed. Buchon, 1838, p. 6) and died there shortly afterwards (Molinet, 318). For his will, which is preserved in the archives of Bergen, see MSH. 1862. pp. 415-7.]
Erasmus writes to Henry of Bergen, Bishop of Cambray, playfully defending his decision to publish the poems of his friend William Herman without explicit permission. He frames this act as a 'theft' but argues it was done out of friendship and admiration for Herman's talent, with encouragement from Robert Gaguin. Erasmus hopes Henry will accept the dedication and support the publication, praising Herman's combination of erudition and Christian piety.
DESIDERIUS ERASMUS, CANON OF THE ORDER OF SAINT AURELIUS AUGUSTINE, TO THE MOST PIOUS FATHER IN CHRIST, HENRY, BISHOP OF CAMBRAI, GREETINGS. So, did you see anyone more brazen than me as a thief? What kind of opening is this, you will say? Your kindness, most distinguished of bishops, will pardon my boldness or my wit. For since by a certain rare and admirable mixture you are so outstanding that nothing is easier and more affable than you alone, and so very easy-going that nothing is more majestic; it has nevertheless pleased me at present to recall your kindness rather than your greatness, and to jest a little, if it is permissible, with your blessedness. What, I say, is more brazen than me alone? What similar thing did that Terentian Phormio devise? The deed of having taken another's property without the owner's consent seemed not bold enough, unless I myself should also betray my theft, or rather, parade it, and even (which is more shameless than the most shameless) to you; fearing neither your judgment, nor the public records, nor the laws, but not even that severe interpretation of Quintus Scaevola: "He to whom something was given to be kept, if he used it, or if he used what he received for use for a purpose other than that for which he received it, has made himself liable for theft." By what sophistry, pray, can I escape from this? To whom would such a deed not seem worthy of the sack? But let your equanimity grant me this one thing; let it be permitted to speak a few words in defense of my case. When you have learned the matter in order, you will not only acquit Erasmus, but you, like a second Apollo, will both laugh at and approve my Mercurial theft. William Hermans of Gouda, with whom alone, from my earliest years (as the Greeks say) from the tender nails, I have enjoyed the most delightful companionship in all things, but especially in liberal studies, a Patroclus and Pirithous to me, is the first and greatest hope of our Holland; which, though hitherto uncultivated and squalid has produced nothing but brambles, thistles, and wild things, has at last barely begun to bring forth some Italian fruit. For many reasons, it pleased him to offer its first fruits to your name. With him some time ago, when I was resting for a few days for the sake of my health, among the many things which we discussed in our manner most familiarly and also most pleasantly, he brought out and produced some Odes, with which the young man had merely been playing as a prelude; obviously so that they might be destroyed on my judgment. For he said, in his manner both modestly and wittily, that those verses seemed to him of such a kind that their faults could not be removed even by six hundred erasures, but could be by a single one; and he thought them worthy not of Apollo but of Vulcan and Neptune. He added no less humorously that those offspring of his had long been regarded by the parent himself as hateful, like abortive and therefore degenerate beings of no future hope. 'Piety,' he said, 'forbids me, though willing, to do it myself; you be the Harpagus.' And at the same time he handed them over to be exposed, fearing nothing less than what followed. I, indeed, delighted by the omen, first from the named Harpagus, then from Moses, Oedipus, Romulus, piously fraudulent, thought they should be secretly brought up for education, whom he, impiously severe, had condemned to exposure; raised, you see, in the hope that someday that offspring, despaired of by the parent, would flourish and, even against the father's will, gain the kingdom. And so, pretending they were lost, I return to Paris and carry off the booty with me. Here, lest I alone should enjoy the theft, I cannot restrain myself from revealing it to some intimate friends, indeed very few at first, then (as happens) the matter crept to several more. What need for many words? Finally, all in a body demanded of me that I should not enviously suppress the first fruits of such great promise, but should gratify so many studious young men with this gift; incidentally threatening that I should prefer to do it with their good will rather than their ill will. To me, indeed, most distinguished Bishop, the genius of that most learned and most modest young man was always a source of admiration, and I judged that nothing mediocre, let alone low, nothing but the extraordinary was to be expected from such a talent. Yet I did not sufficiently trust my own judgment alone, fearing that, blinded by the love of a very close friend, I might not see quite correctly. But when Robert Gaguin, with whom alone France not unjustly glories as a parent, bishop, and prince of letters, had greatly approved the poems of my William and urged me of his own accord to publish them, I readily acquiesced to his judgment. For what should I think ought not to be granted to the character or learning of so great a man? Nor am I unaware that very fierce quarrels are prepared for me by William, and indeed Demean ones: O heaven, O earth, O seas of Neptune. Expect letters filled with six hundred reproaches. He will cry 'Villain!', 'Traitor!'. Finally, he will haul me into court, I suppose. What false charge shall I devise? With what pretext shall I defend myself? I shall need a Cicero; but I fear that even he may not be a match for it. But I shall imitate Mition, not the worst defender of shameless causes. I shall say that I am accused of theft contrary to law, because (as Pythagoras truly said) among friends all things are common. Or certainly, with Terence's Chaerea, I shall confess more frankly that I have sinned from love, not hate. However he may take it, most kind Prelate, I, not wishing my theft to come forth plainly in mourning garb, wanted it to come forth under the auspices of your name; either because I am resolved to dedicate all my studies, whatever they may be, to you as my only Maecenas, or because I had judged this work to be of such a kind that I could easily divine it would meet with your approval: indeed, in it two particular things, of both of which I know you have always been most fond, can be seen joined together: remarkable learning with uncommon probity; than whose conjunction nothing is more beautiful and perfect, so nothing is rarer. For in most people we indeed revere their character, but we miss the learning, without which virtue seems somehow lame. On the contrary, it generally happens that those upon whom a rather fortunate talent has fallen are, I know not how, either wrongly bent towards a vain pursuit of glory or, worse, prone to licentiousness; but otherwise they shrink from the piety and simplicity of the Christian religion. Wherefore I am sometimes wont to be angry with these more recent poets, and even Christian ones, because in selecting their subject matter they prefer to take as their models Catullus, Tibullus, Propertius, Ovid, rather than the divine Ambrose, or Paulinus of Nola, or Prudentius, or Juvencus, or Moses, or David, or Solomon, as if they were not Christians by choice. But I shall check myself, lest I say more than enough, especially against my former darlings, as those people accuse me. Indeed, I gladly agree with my friend Gaguin, who thinks that ecclesiastical subjects too can be made to shine with native resources, provided the style is pure. Nor would I disapprove of Egyptian furniture being used; but I do not like the whole of Egypt to be transferred. In which matter that Baptista of Mantua has, in my judgment, done a prize-winning work. As he has obtained a common homeland with Virgil, so he has come not a little close to Virgil's learning; he seems to me to deserve the name of Christian Virgil by the same right that Agricola used to call Lactantius Firmianus the Christian Cicero. And unless my augury deceives me, there will be, there will be a time when Baptista will be not so very far inferior in glory and fame to his fellow citizen, once the envy of the years has been removed. That most fortunate order of the Carmelites has, has something with which to please itself, with which to challenge all others. Yet I would not dare to compare this now elderly William, still a youth, to him; although from these preliminary exercises I am led to the highest hope that that Steyn estate will someday possess something which Mantua, now twice blessed, could not despise. For he who has miscarried so successfully, what offspring does he promise from a legitimate birth? First births, both in some animals and in talents, are usually apt to turn out empty. If William's empty things are so joyful, what then will that mature and solid fruit be? The barbarism of his native land, the scarcity of teachers, and the honor paid to studies among us being none, adds to the height of the miracle. Wherefore if any rather critical persons happen upon these, I would wish them to be forewarned again and again to take into account his age, his country, his circumstances, and not to measure the man's genius by these preludes, but rather to infer from the luxuriance of the plant the fertility of the soil. And if they come upon anything rather careless, let them remember that William was playing with these, not writing seriously. If anything seems excessive, let them think that a luxuriant genius holds better hope than a frugal one. For it is not so easy to add to a stunted one as to take away from an excessive one. Furthermore, if anything seems rather free and harsh, let them not be reluctant to remember the reply of Accius; who, when as a young man he had read to Pacuvius—a tragedian indeed, and an old one at that, of quite advanced age—the tragedy which he had inscribed "Atreus," and Pacuvius had said that everything indeed pleased him, but seemed rather hard and harsh, said, "I admit it, and I am not at all sorry for that. For they say the same thing happens in geniuses as in apples; those which are hard and sour when born, later become mild and pleasant." To me certainly, in this genre of poetry, in which after Horace almost no one of note has appeared, the freedom of my William does not displease; both because it is a very rich vein of subject matter to indulge in abundance within such narrow confines of lyric meters, and because I see that Quintilian did not approve of those who, fearing the storm, never trust themselves to the deep and, as he says, always keep their hand inside their cloak. The same man praises the Horatian Odes and judges them almost alone worthy of reading, because they sometimes rise up and dare successfully. But I am extending the letter too much. To the reader I shall say once: if anything in these Odes offends him, let him blame me, not William. But you, to return to you, most distinguished Bishop, if you take these exposed infants, more than orphans, as your foster-children upon my delivery, you will have done a thing worthy of your ancient kindness. They will scarcely miss a parent, if you become their patron. I cease saying more. Behold, they are here, adorned by my effort such as it is. Fare well, and hold us commended to you. From Paris, in the year of Christ's birth 1496, the 7th day before the Ides of November [November 7].