If the Brethren had seen Erasmus’ final letter to Slechta, they might well have been encouraged to hope much from him.  But of this there is no indication.  Slechta was hardly likely to communicate it to them; and though such documents often leaked out against the owner’s will, its first appearance in print was in 1521, in Erasmus’ Epistolae ad diuersos.  I cannot find any translation into a vernacular except a German version by John Froben of Andernach which appeared at Nuremberg in 1531.

Whatever was the motive attraction, the Brethren sent as their envoys, so Camerarius tells us, Nicholas Claudianus, a learned physician, and Laurence Voticius (Woticky), a man of many accomplishments, who died at a good age in 1565—­a date, which, if it be not a later interpolation, is an indication as to when Camerarius composed his narrative.[44] They brought with them a copy of their Apologia, printed at Nuremberg in 1511—­a date which appears to be wrong—­and presented it to Erasmus at Antwerp with the request that he would read it through and see if there was anything in it that he would wish to have changed.  If that were so, they would readily defer to his criticisms; but if, as they hoped, he approved of what they said, it would be a help and consolation to them if he would express that opinion.

     [44] L. Camerarius, in his preface, 1 Jan. 1605, describes the
          book as composed ‘more than thirty years ago’.

He took the book and said he would be glad to read it; but when after a few days they came for his answer, he told them he had been too busy to do more than glance through it:  so far as he had gone, he found no error and nothing that he would wish to alter.  He declined, however, to bear testimony about it, as this would bring them no help, and only danger to himself.  ‘You must not think’, he said, ’that any words of mine will bring you support; indeed, my own influence, such as it is, requires the backing of others.  If it is true that my writings are of any value to divine and useful learning, it seems to me unwise to jeopardize their influence by proclaiming publicly the agreement between us:  such actions might lead to their being condemned and torn from the hands of the public.  Forgive me for this caution, you will perhaps call it fear:  and be assured that I wish you well and will most gladly help you in other matters.’  The envoys were disappointed, Camerarius records, but took his refusal in good part:  for they relied not on the judgements of men to be the foundation of their heavenly edifice of truth.  The good sense of his words no doubt appealed to them; for the Brethren were above all things moderate men, averse from violence, convinced perhaps by their own experience that a display of courage is unwise when it provokes opposition and raises obstacles to progress.