"If you care to hear how I am getting on: Erasmus is almost completely transformed into an Englishman, with such distinguished consideration am I treated by very many others, but especially by my incomparable (_unicus_) Mæcenas, the archbishop of Canterbury,--patron not of me alone, but of all learned men, among whom I hold the lowest place, if indeed I hold any place at all. Eternal God! how happy, how productive, how ready is the talent of that man! What skill in unravelling the most weighty matters of business! what uncommon learning! what unheard-of graciousness towards all! what geniality in company, so that,--a truly royal quality,--he sends no one away from him sad. And besides all this: what great and ready generosity! Finally, in such a conspicuous position of fortune and rank, how absolutely free from haughtiness,--so that he seems to be the only one who is ignorant of his own greatness. In caring for his friends no one is more faithful or more constant. In short he is indeed _Primas_, not in rank alone but in all praiseworthy things. Since I have this man for a friend, why should I not deem myself exceptionally fortunate, even if there were nothing more?" It is idle to attempt to determine which of these moods represents the real state of mind of Erasmus at Cambridge. Probably he was at his old tricks of making himself valued by threatening to leave an unbearable situation, and at the same time making that situation appear as delightful as possible to anyone outside who might conceivably raise a bid for him in another quarter. He tells Ammonius again how charming Italy was to him and what a prospect he had given up there to come to England. He thinks he will come to London, and begs Ammonius to find him a warm lodging not too far from St. Paul's. He cannot go to Mountjoy's so long as "that Cerberus" is there. Evidently he did not have the run of many hospitable homes in London.