CHAPTER XIII.

I. WHAT COLET THOUGHT OF THE ‘NOVUM INSTRUMENTUM’ (1516).

Having traced the progress and final publication of these works by Erasmus and More, the enquiry suggests itself, how were they received?

And first it may naturally be asked, What did Colet think of them, especially of the ‘Novum Instrumentum’?

[Sidenote: Erasmus envies Colet’s retirement, but works harder than ever.]

[Sidenote: Erasmus begins his Paraphrases.]

An early copy had doubtless been sent to him, and with the volume itself, it would seem, came a letter from Erasmus, probably from Antwerp, by the hand of Peter Meghen--‘Unoculus,’ as his friends called him.[616] In this letter Erasmus had consulted him about his future plans. After the labours of the past, and suffering as he was from feeble and precarious health, he had indulged, it would seem, in the expression of longings that he could share with Colet his prospects of rest. He knew how often Colet had mentioned the wish to spend his old age in retirement and peace, with one or two congenial companions, such as Erasmus; and now, just escaped from his monotonous labours at Basle, he was for the moment inclined to take Colet at his word. Still, much as he talked of rest, his mind would not stop working. Witness, for instance, his ‘Institutio Principis Christiani.’ In fact, while the ‘Novum Instrumentum’ and the works of St. Jerome had been passing through the press the number of other works of his had increased rather than lessened. During the very intervals of travel he was sure to be writing some book. On his way to Basle he had written his letter to Dorpius, and he had published with it a commentary on the first Psalm, ‘_Beatus est vir_,’ &c., which, by the way, he had dedicated to his gentle friend, _Beatus_ Rhenanus, because, said he, ‘_blessed is_ the man who is such as the Psalm describes.’ New editions, also, of the ‘De Copiâ,’ of the ‘Praise of Folly,’ and of the ‘Adagia,’ were constantly being issued from the press of Froben, Martins, Schurerius, or some other printer; for whatever bore the name of Erasmus now found so ready a sale, that printers were anxious for his patronage. Visions, too, of future work kept rising up before him. He wanted to write a commentary on the Epistle to the Romans; and in writing to Colet it would seem that he had confided to him his project of adding to his Latin version of the New Testament an honest exposition of its meaning in the form of a simple _paraphrase_--a work which it took him years to complete. Thus it came to pass that he had mentioned these literary projects in the same letter in which he had expressed himself as envious of Colet’s anticipated rest, and that freedom from the cares of poverty to which he himself was so constantly a prey. Doubtless for a moment it had seemed to him easier to wish himself in Colet’s place than with renewed energy to toil on in his own.

[Sidenote: Colet driven into retirement.]

But every heart knoweth its own bitterness. Colet had his share of troubles, which made him, in his turn, almost envy Erasmus. He felt as keenly as Erasmus and More did, how the mad rush of princes to arms had blasted the happy visions of what had seemed like a golden age approaching, and he had been the first to speak out what he thought; but now, while More and Erasmus could speak boldly and get Europe to listen to what they had to say, he was thwarted and harassed by his bishop, and obliged to crawl into retirement. His work was almost done. He could not use his pulpit as he used to do. He had spent his patrimony in the foundation of his school, and he had not another fortune to spend, for his uncle’s quarrel and other demands upon the residue had reduced his means even below his wants. Nor had he much of bodily strength and energy left. The sole survivor of a family of twenty-two, his health was not likely to be robust, and now, at fifty, he spoke of himself as growing old, and alluded with admiration to the high spirits of his still surviving mother, and the beauty of her happy old age.

[Sidenote: He procures the release from prison of one who had injured him.]

Still Colet had his heart in the work as much as ever. We do not hear much of his doings, but what we _do_ hear is all in keeping with his character. Thus we find him incidentally exerting himself to get some poor prisoner released from the royal prison, and Erasmus exclaiming, ‘I love that Christian spirit of Colet’s, for I hear that it was all owing to him, and him alone, that N. was released, notwithstanding that N., though always treated in the most friendly way by Colet, and professing himself as friendly to Colet, had sided with Colet’s enemies at the time that he was accused by the calumnies of the bishops.’[617]

It was about the time that he was thus returning good for evil to this unfortunate prisoner, that the letter of Erasmus and the copy of the ‘Novum Instrumentum’ came to his hands.

[Sidenote: Colet’s delight in the success of Erasmus.]

In spite of his own troubles he could hail the labours and success of Erasmus with delight. Twenty years ago, while alone and single-handed, he had longed for fellowship; now he could rejoice that in Erasmus he had not only found a fellow-worker, but a successor who would carry on the work much further than he could do. He had looked forward with eager expectation to the appearance of the ‘Novum Instrumentum,’ and, anticipating its perusal, had for months past[618] been working hard to recover the little knowledge of Greek which, during the active business of life, he had almost lost. And the more he felt that his own work was drawing to a close, the more was he disposed to encourage Erasmus to go on with his. He looked upon Erasmus now as the leader of the little band, forgetting that Erasmus owed, in one sense, almost everything to him.

This is the beautiful letter he wrote after reading the ‘Novum Instrumentum:’--

_Colet to Erasmus._

‘You cannot easily believe, my dear Erasmus, how much joy your letter gave me, which was brought to me by our “one-eyed friend.” For I learned from it where you are (which I did not know before), and also that you are likely to return to us, which would be very delightful both to me and to your other friends, of whom you have a great many here.

[Sidenote: What Colet thought of the ‘Novum Instrumentum.’]

‘What you say about the New Testament I can understand. The volumes of your new edition of it [the “Novum Instrumentum”] are here both eagerly bought and everywhere read. By many, your labours are received with approval and admiration. There are a few, also, who disapprove and carp at them, saying what was said in the letter of Martin Dorpius to you. But these are those divines whom you have described in your “Praise of Folly” and elsewhere, no less truly than wittily, as men whose praise is blame, and by whom it is an honour to be censured.

‘For myself, I so love your work, and so clasp to my heart this new edition of yours, that it excites mingled feelings. For at one time I am seized with sorrow that I have not that knowledge of Greek, without which one is good for nothing; at another time I rejoice in that light which you have shed forth from the sun of your genius.

‘Indeed, Erasmus, I marvel at the fruitfulness of your mind, in the conception, production, and daily completion of so much, during a life so unsettled, and without the assistance of any large and regular income.

[Sidenote: Edition of ‘Jerome.’]

‘I am looking out for your “Jerome,” who will owe much to you, and so shall _we_ also when able to read him with your corrections and explanations.

[Sidenote: The ‘Christian Prince.’]

‘You have done well to write “De Institutione Principis Christiani.” I wish Christian princes would follow good institutes! By their madness everything is thrown into confusion....

‘As to the “peaceful resting-place” which you say you long for, I also wish for one for you, both peaceful and happy; both your age and your studies require it. I wish, too, that this your final resting-place may be with us, if you think us worthy of so great a man; but what we are you have often experienced. Still you have here some who love you exceedingly.

‘Our friend, the Archbishop of Canterbury, when I was with him a few days ago, spoke much of you, and desired your presence here very much. Freed from all business cares, he lives now in quiet retirement.

‘What you say about “Christian philosophising” is true. There is nobody, I think, in Christendom more fit and suited for that profession and work than you are, on account of the wide range of your knowledge. _You_ do not say so, but I say so because I think so.

[Sidenote: Treatise of Erasmus on the First Psalm.]

‘I have read what you have written on the First Psalm, and I admire your eloquence. I want to know what you are going to write on the Epistle to the Romans.

[Sidenote: The projected ‘Paraphrases’ of Erasmus.]

‘Go on, Erasmus. As you have given us the New Testament in Latin, illustrate it by your expositions, and give us your commentary most at length on the Gospels. Your length is brevity; the appetite increases if only the digestive organs are sound. You will confer a great boon upon those who delight to read your writings if you will explain the meaning [of the Gospels], which no one can do better than you can. And in so doing, you will make your name immortal--_immortal_ did I say?--the name of Erasmus never can perish; but you will confer eternal _glory_ on your name, and, toiling on in the name of Jesus, you will become a partaker of his eternal life.

‘In deploring your fortune you do not act bravely. In so great a work--in making known the Scriptures--your fortune cannot fail you. Only put your trust in God, who will be the first to help you, and who will stir up others to aid you in your sacred labours.

‘That you should call me happy, I marvel! If you speak of fortune, although I am not wholly without any, yet I have not much, hardly sufficient for my expenses. I should think myself happy if, even in extreme poverty, I had a thousandth part of that learning and wisdom which you have got without wealth, and which, as it is peculiar to yourself, so also you have a way of imparting it, which I don’t know how to describe, unless I call it that “Erasmican” way of your own.

‘If you will let me, I will become your disciple, even in learning Greek, notwithstanding my advanced years (being almost an old man), recollecting that Cato learned Greek in his old age, and that you yourself, of equal age with me, are studying Hebrew.

‘Love me as ever; and, if you should return to us, count upon my devotion to your service.--Farewell.

[Sidenote: Colet’s mother.]

‘From the country at Stepney, with my mother, who still lives, and wears her advancing age beautifully; often happily and joyfully speaking of you. On the Feast of the Translation of St. Edward.’[619]

II. RECEPTION OF THE ‘NOVUM INSTRUMENTUM’ IN OTHER QUARTERS (1516).

Colet was not alone in his admiration of the ‘Novum Instrumentum’ and its author.

[Sidenote: Reception of the ‘Novum Instrumentum’ in England.]

William Latimer, of Oxford, one of the earliest Greek scholars in England, expressed his ardent approval of the new Latin translation, and would have been glad, he said, if Erasmus had gone still further, and translated even such words as ‘sabbatum’ and the like into classical Latin.[620]

Warham had all along encouraged Erasmus in his labours, both by presents of money and constant good offices, and now he recommended the ‘Novum Instrumentum’ to some of his brother bishops and divines, who, he wrote to Erasmus, all acknowledged that the work was worthy of the labour bestowed upon it.[621]

Fox, the Bishop of Winchester, in a large assembly of magnates, when the conversation turned on Erasmus and his works, declared that his new version threw so much light on the New Testament, that it was worth more to him than ten commentaries, and this remark was approved by those present.[622] The Dean of Salisbury used almost the same words of commendation.[623]

In fact, it would appear that in England it was received coldly only by that class of pseudo-orthodox divines, now waning both in numbers and influence, who had consistently opposed the progress of the new learning, ‘blasphemed’ Colet’s school, and censured the heretical tendencies of Erasmus as soon as their blind eyes had been opened to them by the recent edition of the ‘Praise of Folly.’

Thus while Erasmus was in England in the autumn, enjoying at Rochester the hospitality of Bishop Fisher, who was Chancellor of the University of Cambridge, he was informed that his ‘Novum Testamentum’ had encountered no little opposition in some circles at that centre of learning.

[Sidenote: Its reception at Cambridge.]

In one of his letters from the Bishop’s palace to his friend Boville, who was resident at Cambridge, he mentions a report that a decree had been formally issued in one of the colleges, forbidding anyone to bring ‘that book’ within the precincts of the college, ‘by horse or by boat, on wheels or on foot.’ He hardly knew, he said, whether to laugh at or to grieve over men ‘so studiously blind to their own interests; so morose and implacable, harder to appease even than wild beasts! How pitiful for men to condemn and revile a book which they have not even read, or, having read, cannot understand! They had possibly heard of the new work over their cups, or in the gossip of the market, ... and thereupon exclaimed, “O heavens! O earth! Erasmus has corrected the Gospels!” when it is they themselves who have _depraved_ them....

‘Are they indeed afraid,’ Erasmus continued, ‘lest it should divert their scholars, and empty their lecture-rooms? Why do they not examine the facts? Scarcely thirty years ago, nothing was taught at Cambridge but the “parva logicalia” of Alexander, antiquated exercises from Aristotle, and the “Quæstiones” of Scotus. In process of time improved studies were added--mathematics, a new, or, at all events, a _renovated_ Aristotle, and a knowledge of Greek letters.... What has been the result of all this? Now the University is so flourishing, that it can compete with the best universities of the age. It contains men, compared with whom, theologians of the old school seem only the _ghosts_ of theologians. These men grieve because more and more students study with more and more earnestness the Gospels and the apostolic Epistles. They had rather that they spent all their time, as heretofore, in frivolous quibbles. Hitherto there have been theologians who so far from having read the Scriptures, had never read even the “_Sentences_,” or touched anything beyond the collections of questions. Ought not,’ exclaimed Erasmus, ‘such men to be called back to the very fountain-head?’ He then told Boville that he wished his works to be useful to _all_. He looked to Christ for his chief reward; still he was glad to have the approval of wise men. He hoped too, that what now was approved by the _best_ men, would ere long meet with _general_ approval. He felt sure that posterity would do him justice.[624]

Nor was the opposition to the ‘Novum Instrumentum’ by any means confined to Cambridge. A few weeks later, very soon after Erasmus had left England--in October--More wrote to inform him that a set of acute men had determined to scrutinise closely, and criticise remorselessly, what they could discover to find fault with. A party of them, with a Franciscan divine at their head, had agreed to divide the works of Erasmus between them, and to pick out all the faults they could find as they read them. But, More added, he had heard that they had already given up the project. The labour of reading was more laborious and less productive than the ordinary work of mendicants, and so they had gone back again to that.[625]

The work was indeed full of small errors which might easily give occasion to adverse critics to exercise their talents. But Erasmus was fully conscious of this, and within a year of the completion of the first edition, he was busily at work making all the corrections he could, with a view to a second edition.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: Reception of the ‘Novum Instrumentum’ on the Continent.]

The reception of the ‘Novum Instrumentum’ on the Continent was much the same as in England. It had some bitter enemies, especially at Louvain and Cologne.[626] But, on the other hand, letters poured in upon Erasmus from all sides of warm approval and congratulation,[627] and so great a power had his name become, that ere long princes competed for his residence within their dominions; and if their numerous promises had but been faithfully performed, Erasmus need have had little fear for the future respecting ‘ways and means.’

[Sidenote: Philip Melanchthon.]

Amongst the numerous tributes of admiration received by Erasmus, was one forwarded to him by Beatus Rhenanus, in Greek verse,[628] from the pen of an accomplished and learned youth at the University of Tubingen, already known by name to Erasmus, and mentioned with honour in the ‘Novum Instrumentum’--a student devoted to study, and reported to be working so hard, that his health was in danger of giving way, whom another correspondent introduced as worthy of the love of ‘Erasmus the first,’ inasmuch as he was likely to prove ‘Erasmus the second.’ His name--then little known beyond the circle of his intimate friends--was _Philip Melanchthon_.[629]

III. MARTIN LUTHER READS THE ‘NOVUM INSTRUMENTUM’ (1516).

[Sidenote: Letter from Spalatin.]

In the winter of 1516-17, Erasmus received a letter from George Spalatin, whose name he may have heard before, but to whom he was personally a stranger. It was dated from the castle of the Elector of Saxony. It was a letter full of flattering compliments. The writer introduced himself as acquainted with a friend of Erasmus, and as being a pupil of one of his old schoolfellows at Deventer. He mentioned his intimacy with the Elector, whom he reported to be a diligent and admiring reader of the works of Erasmus, and informed him that these had honourable places on the shelves of the ducal library. It was, in fact, a letter evidently written with a definite object; but beating about the bush so long, that one begins to wonder what matter of importance could require so roundabout an introduction.

At length the writer disclosed the object of his letter:--‘A friend of his,’ whose name he did not give, had written to him suggesting that Erasmus in his Annotations on the Epistle to the Romans, in the ‘Novum Instrumentum,’ had misinterpreted St. Paul’s expression, _justicia operum_, or _legis_, and also had not spoken out clearly respecting ‘original sin.’ He believed that if Erasmus would read St. Augustine’s books against Pelagius, &c., he would see his mistake. His friend interpreted _justicia legis_, or the ‘righteousness of works,’ not as referring only to the keeping of the ceremonial law, but to the observance of the whole decalogue. The observance of the latter might make a Fabricius or a Regulus, but without Christian faith it would no more savour of ‘righteousness’ than a medlar would taste like a fig. This was the weighty question upon which his friend had asked him to consult the oracle, and a response, however short, would be esteemed a most gracious favour.[630]

[Sidenote: Martin Luther reads the ‘Novum Instrumentum.’]

This unnamed friend of Spalatin was in fact _Martin Luther_. The singular coincidence, that not only this letter of Spalatin to Erasmus, but also the letter of Luther to Spalatin,[631] have been preserved, enables us to picture the monk of Wittemberg sitting in his room in a corner of the monastery, pondering over the pages of the ‘Novum Instrumentum,’ and ‘moved,’ as he reads it, with feelings of grief and disappointment, because his quick eye discerns that the path in which Erasmus is treading points in a different direction from his own.

In truth, Luther, though as yet without European fame--not having yet nailed his memorable theses to the Wittemberg church-door--had for years past fixed, if I may use the expression, the cardinal points of his theology. He had already clenched his fundamental convictions with too firm a grasp ever to relax. He had chosen his permanent standpoint, and for years had made it the centre of his public teaching in his professorial chair at the university, and in his pulpit also.

The standpoint which he had so firmly taken was _Augustinian_.

[Sidenote: Luther’s Augustinian tendencies.]

During the four years spent by him in the Augustinian monastery at Erfurt, into which he had fled to escape from the terrors of conscience, he had deeply studied, along with the Scriptures, the works of St. Augustine. It was from the light which these works had shed upon the Epistles of St. Paul that he had mainly been led to embrace those views upon ‘justification by faith’ which had calmed the tumult and disarmed the lightnings of his troubled conscience. This statement rests upon the authority of Melanchthon, and is therefore beyond dispute.[632]

Eight years had passed since he had left Erfurt to become a professor in the Wittemberg University, and four or five years since his return from his memorable visit to Rome. During these last years his teaching and preaching had been full of the Augustinian theology. Melanchthon states that during this period he had written commentaries on the ‘Romans,’ and that in them and in his lectures and sermons he had laboured to refute the prevalent error, that it is possible to merit the forgiveness of sins by good works, pointing men to the Lamb of God, and throwing great light upon such questions as ‘penitence,’ ‘remission of sins,’ ‘faith,’ the difference between the ‘Law’ and the ‘Gospel,’ and the like. He also mentions that Luther, catching the spirit which the writings of Erasmus had diffused, had taken to the study of Greek and Hebrew.[633]

We may therefore picture the Augustinian monk--deeply read in the works of St. Augustine, and, as Ranke expresses it,[634] ‘_embracing even his severer views_,’ having for years constantly taught them from his pulpit and professorial chair, clinging to them with a grasp which would never relax, looking at everything from this immovable Augustinian standpoint--now in 1516 with a copy of the ‘Novum Instrumentum’ before him on his table in his room in the cloisters of Wittemberg, reading it probably with eager expectation of finding his own views reflected in the writings of a man who was looked upon as the great restorer of Scriptural theology.

[Sidenote: Luther detects the Anti-Augustinian tendencies of Erasmus.]

He reads the Annotations on the Epistle to the Romans. He does not find Erasmus using the watchwords of the Augustinian theology. He does not find the words _justicia legis_ understood in the Augustinian sense, as referring to the observance of the whole moral law, but, rather, explained as referring to the Jewish ceremonial.

He turns as a kind of touchstone to Chapter V., where the Apostle speaks of death as ‘having reigned from Adam to Moses over those who had not sinned after the similitude of Adam’s transgression.’ He finds Erasmus remarking that he does not think it needful here to resort to the doctrine of ‘_original sin_,’ however true in itself; he finds him hinting at the possibility ‘of hating Pelagius more than enough,’ and of resorting too freely to the doctrine of ‘original sin’ as a means of getting rid of theological difficulties, in the same way as astrologers had invented a system of _epicycles_ to get them out of their astronomical ones.[635]

The Augustinian doctrine of ‘original sin’ compared to the _epicycles_ of the astrologers! No wonder that Luther was _moved_ as he traced in these Annotations symptoms of wide divergence from his own Augustinian views. In writing to Spalatin, he told him that he was ‘moved;’ and in asking him to question Erasmus further on the subject, he added that he felt no doubt that the difference in opinion between himself and Erasmus was a real one, because that, as regards the interpretation of Scripture, he saw clearly that Erasmus preferred Jerome to Augustine, just as much as he himself preferred Augustine to Jerome. Jerome, evidently on principle, he said, follows the _historical_ sense, and he very much feared that the great authority of Erasmus might induce many to attempt to defend that _literal_, i.e. _dead_, understanding [of the Scriptures] of which the commentaries of Lyra and almost all after Augustine are full.[636]

Still Luther went on with the study of his ‘Novum Instrumentum,’ and we find him writing again from his ‘hermitage’ at Wittemberg, that every day as he reads he loses his liking for Erasmus. And again the reason crops out. Erasmus, with all his Greek and Hebrew, is lacking in Christian wisdom; ‘just as Jerome, with all his knowledge of five languages, was not a match for Augustine with his one.’... ‘The judgment of a man who attributes _anything_ to the human will’ [which Jerome and Erasmus did] is ‘one thing, the judgment of him who recognises _nothing but grace_’ [which Augustine and Luther did] ‘is quite another thing.’... ‘Nevertheless [continues Luther] I carefully keep this opinion to myself, lest I should play into the hands of his enemies. May God give him understanding in his own good time!’[637]

[Sidenote: Difference in principle between Erasmus and Luther.]

This is not the place to discuss the rights of the question between Luther and Erasmus. It is well, however, that by the preservation of these letters the fact is established to us, which as yet was unknown to Erasmus, that this Augustinian monk, as the result of hard-fought mental struggle, had years before this irrevocably adopted and, if we may so speak, welded into his very being that Augustinian system of religious convictions, a considerable portion of which Erasmus made no scruple in rejecting; that at the root of their religious thought there was a divergence in principle which must widen as each proceeded on his separate path--unknown as yet, let me repeat it, to Erasmus, but already fully recognised, though wisely concealed, by Luther.

IV. THE ‘EPISTOLÆ OBSCURORUM VIRORUM’ (1516-17).

In the meantime symptoms had appeared portending that a storm was brewing in another quarter against Erasmus. It was not perhaps to be wondered at that the monks should persist in regarding him as a renegade monk. His bold reply to the letter of Servatius, and the unsubdued tone in which he had answered the attack of Martin Dorpius, must have made the monastic party hopeless of his reconversion to orthodox views. At the same time, neither his letter to Servatius nor his reply to Dorpius had at all converted them to his way of thinking. Men perfectly self-satisfied, blindly believing in the sanctity of their own order, and arrogating to themselves a monopoly of orthodox learning, were in a state of mind, both intellectually and morally, beyond the reach of argument, however earnest and convincing. They still really did believe, through thick and thin, that the Latin of the Vulgate and the Schoolmen was the sacred language. They still did believe that Hebrew and Greek were the languages of heretics; and that to be learned in these, to scoff at the Schoolmen and to criticise the Vulgate, were the surest proofs of _ignorance_ as well as impiety.

[Sidenote: ‘Epistolæ Obscurorum Virorum.’]

It was in the years 1516 and 1517 that the ‘Epistolæ Obscurorum Virorum’ were published. They were written in exaggerated monkish Latin, and professed to be a correspondence chiefly between monks, conveying their views and feelings upon current events and the tendencies of modern thought. Of course the picture they gave was a caricature, but nevertheless it so nearly hit the truth that More wrote to Erasmus that ‘in England it delighted every one. To the learned it was capital fun. Even the ignorant, who seriously took it all in, smiled at its style, and did not attempt to defend it; but they said the _weighty opinions_ it contained made up for that, and under a rude scabbard was concealed a most excellent blade.’[638]

The first part was full of the monks’ hatred of Reuchlin and the Jews. One monk writes to his superior to consult him in a difficulty. Two Jews were walking in the town in a dress so like that of monks that he bowed to them by mistake. To have made obeisance to a Jew! Was this a venial or a mortal sin? Should he seek absolution from episcopal authority, or would it require a dispensation from the Pope?[639]

Side by side with scrupulosity such as this were hints of secret immorality and scandal. Immense straining at gnats was put in contrast with the ease with which camels were swallowed within the walls of the cloister.

[Sidenote: Mention of Erasmus in them.]

In the appendix to the first part Erasmus at length makes his appearance. The writer of the letter, a medical graduate, informs his learned correspondent that, being at Strasburg, he was told that a man who was called ‘Erasmus Roterdamus’ (till then unknown to him) was in the city--a man said to be most learned in all branches of knowledge. This, however, he did not believe. He could not believe that so small a man could have so vast a knowledge. To test the matter, he laid a scheme with one or two others to meet Erasmus at table, get him into an argument, and confute him. He thereupon betook himself to his ‘vademecum,’ and crammed himself with some abstruse medical questions, and so armed entered the field. One of his friends was a lawyer, the other a speculative divine. They met as appointed. All were silent. Nobody would begin. At length Erasmus, in a low tone of voice, began to sermonise (_sermonizare_), and when he had done, another began to dispute _de ente et essencia_. To which the writer himself responded in a few words. Then a dead silence again. They could not draw the lion out. At length their host started another hare--praising both the deeds and writings of Julius Cæsar. The writer here again put in. He knew something of _poetry_, and did not believe that Cæsar’s ‘Commentaries’ were written by Cæsar at all. Cæsar was a warrior, and always engaged in military affairs. Such men never are learned men, therefore Cæsar cannot have known Latin. ‘I think,’ he continued, ‘that _Suetonius_ (!) wrote those “Commentaries,” because I never saw anyone whose style was so like Cæsar’s as his. When I had said this,’ he continued, ‘Erasmus laughed, and said nothing, because the subtlety of my argument had confounded him. So I put an end to the discussion. I did not care to propound my question in medicine, because I knew he knew nothing about it, since, though himself a poet, he did not know how to solve my argument in poetry. And I assert before God that there is not as much in him as people say. He does not know more than other men, although I concede that in poetry he knows how to speak pretty Latin. But what of that!’[640]

In the second part, published in 1517, Erasmus makes a more prominent figure. One correspondent had met him at Basle, and ‘found many perverse heretics in Froben’s house.’[641] Another writes that he hears Erasmus has written many books, especially a letter to the Pope, in which he commends Reuchlin:--

‘That letter, you know, I have seen. One other book of his also I have seen--a great book--entitled “Novum Testamentum,” and he has sent this book to the Pope, and I believe he wants the Pope’s authority for it, but I hope he won’t give it. One holy man told me that he could prove that Erasmus was a heretic; because he censured holy doctors, and thought nothing of divines. One of his things, called “Moria Erasmi,” contained,’ he said, ‘many scandalous propositions and open blasphemies. On this account the book would be burned at Paris. Therefore I do not believe that the Pope will sanction his “great book.”’[642]

Another reports that his edition of St. Jerome has been examined at Cologne; that in this work Erasmus says that Jerome was not a Cardinal; that he thinks evil of St. George and St. Christopher, the relics of the saints and candles, and the sacrament of confession; that many passages contain blasphemy against the holy doctors.[643]

These ‘Epistolæ Obscurorum Virorum’ were widely read, and proved like an advertisement, throughout the monasteries of Europe, of the heresy of Erasmus and his hatred of monks. As by degrees the latter began to understand that these allusions to Erasmus were intended to bring ridicule on themselves, instead of, as they thought at first, to censure Erasmus, it was likely that their anger should know no bounds.[644]

V. THE ‘PYTHAGORICA’ AND ‘CABALISTICA’ OF REUCHLIN (1517).

[Sidenote: Studies of Reuchlin.]

Reuchlin in his zeal for Hebrew had been led to study along with the old Testament Scriptures, other Hebrew books, especially the ‘Cabala,’ and, after the fashion of his Jewish teachers, had lost himself in the ‘mystical value of words’ and in the Pythagorean philosophy. He believed, writes Ranke, that by treading in the footsteps of the ‘Cabala,’ he should ascend from symbol to symbol, from form to form, till he should reach that last and purest form which rules the empire of mind, and in which human mutability approaches to the Immutable and Divine[645]--whatever that might mean.

Reuchlin had embodied his speculations on these subjects in a work upon which he wished for the opinion of Erasmus and his friends.

[Sidenote: Reuchlin’s works sent by Erasmus to England.]

Erasmus accordingly sent a copy of this book to Bishop Fisher, with a letter asking his opinion thereupon.[646] He sent it, it seems, by More, who, _more suo_, as Fisher jokingly complained, purloined it,[647] so that it did not reach its destination. What had become of it may be learned from the following letter from Colet to Erasmus, playful and laconic as usual, and beaming with that true humility which enabled him to unite with his habitual strength of conviction an equally habitual sense of his own fallibility and imperfect knowledge. It is doubly interesting also as the last letter written by Colet which time has spared.

_Colet to Erasmus._[648]

‘I am half angry with you, Erasmus, that you send messages to me in letters to others, instead of writing direct to myself; for though I have no distrust of our friendship, yet this roundabout way of greeting me through messages in other people’s letters makes me jealous lest others should think you loved me less than you do.

‘Also, I am half angry with you for another thing--for sending the “Cabalistica” of Reuchlin to Bishop Fisher and not to me. I do not grudge your sending _him_ a copy, but you might have sent _me_ one also. For I so delight in your love, that I am jealous when I see you more mindful of others than of myself.

‘That book did, however, after all come into my hands first. I read it through before it was handed to the bishop.

‘I dare not express an opinion on this book. I am conscious of my own ignorance, and how blind I am in matters so mysterious, and in the works (opibus--_operibus_?) of so great a man. However, in reading it, the chief miracles seemed to me to lie more in the words than the things; for, according to him, Hebrew words seem to have no end of mystery in their characters and combinations.

[Sidenote: Colet’s opinion on them.]

‘O Erasmus! of books and of knowledge there is no end. There is no thing better for _us_ in this short life than to live holily and purely, and to make it our daily care to be purified and enlightened, and really to practise what these “Pythagorica” and “Cabalistica” of Reuchlin promise; but, in my opinion, there is no other way for us to attain this than by the earnest love and imitation of _Jesus_. Wherefore leaving these wandering paths, let us go the short way to work. I long, to the best of my ability, to do so.[649] Farewell.--_From London, 1517._’

VI. MORE PAYS A VISIT TO COVENTRY (1517?).

It chanced about this time that More had occasion to go to Coventry to see a sister of his there.

[Sidenote: Coventry.]

[Sidenote: Monastic establishments at Coventry.]

Coventry was a very nest of religious and monastic establishments. It contained, shut up in its narrow streets, some six thousand souls. On the high ground in the heart of the city the ancient Monastery and Cathedral Church of the monks of St. Benedict lifted their huge piles of masonry above surrounding roofs. By their side, and belonging to the same ancient order, rose into the air like a rocket the beautiful spire of St. Michael’s, lightly poised and supported by its four flying buttresses, whilst in the niches of the square tower, from which these were made to spring, stood the carved images of saints, worn and crumbled by a century’s storms and hot suns. There, too, almost within a stone’s throw of this older and nobler one, and as if faintly striving but failing to outvie it, rose the rival spires of Trinity Church, and the Church of the Grey Friars of St. Francis; while in the distance might be seen the square massive tower of the College of Babbelake, afterwards called the Church of St. John; the Monastery of the Carmelites or White Friars; and the Charterhouse, where Carthusian monks were supposed to keep strict vigils and fasts in lonely and separate cells. And beneath the shadow of the spire of St. Michael’s stood the Hall of St. Mary, chased over with carved work depicting the glory of the Virgin Mother, and covered within by tapestry representing her before the Great Throne of Heaven, the moon under her feet, and apostles and choirs of angels doing her homage. Other hospitals and religious houses which have left no trace behind them, were to be found within the walls of this old city. Far and wide had spread the fame of the annual processions and festivals, pageants and miracle plays, which even royal guests were sometimes known to witness. And from out the babble and confusion of tongues produced by the close proximity of so many rival monastic sects, rose ever and anon the cry for the martyrdom of honest Lollards, in the persecution of whom the Pharisees and Sadducees of Coventry found a temporary point of agreement. It would seem that, not many months after the time of More’s visit, _seven_ poor gospellers were burned in Coventry for teaching their children the paternoster and ten commandments in their own English tongue.[650]

[Sidenote: Fit of Mariolatry at Coventry.]

This was Coventry--its citizens, if not ‘wholly given up to idolatry,’ yet ‘in all things too superstitious,’ and, like the Athenians of old, prone to run after ‘some new thing.’ At the time of which we speak, they were the subjects of a strange religious frenzy--a fit of _Mariolatry_.

The doctrine of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin had not yet been finally settled. It was the bone of contention between the rival monastic orders. The Franciscans or Grey Friars, following Scotus, waged war with the Dominicans, who followed Aquinas. Pope Sixtus IV. had in 1483 issued a bull favouring the Franciscans and the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, and Foxe tells us that it was in consequence ‘holden in their schools, written in their books, preached in their sermons, taught in their churches, and set forth in their pictures.’ On the other side had occurred the tragedy of the weeping image of the Virgin, and the detection and burning of the Dominican monks who were parties to the fraud.

It chanced that in Coventry a Franciscan monk made bold to preach publicly to the people, that _whoever should daily pray through the Psalter of the Blessed Virgin could never be damned_. The regular pastor of the place, thinking that it would soon blow over, and that a little more devotion to the Virgin could do no harm, took little notice of it at first. But when he saw the worst men were the most religious in their devotion to the Virgin’s Psalter, and that, relying on the friar’s doctrine, they were getting more and more bold in crime, he mildly admonished the people from his pulpit not to be led astray by this new doctrine. The result was he was hissed at, derided, and publicly slandered as an enemy of the Virgin. The friar again mounted his pulpit, recounted miraculous stories in favour of his creed, and carried the people away with him.

[Sidenote: More’s dispute with a friar.]

More shall tell the rest in his own words:--

‘While this frenzy was at its height, it so happened that I had to go to Coventry to visit a sister of mine there. I had scarcely alighted from my horse when I was asked the question, “Whether a person who daily prayed through the Psalter of the Blessed Virgin could be damned?” I laughed at the question as absurd. I was told forthwith that my answer was a dangerous one. A most holy and learned father had declared the contrary. I put by the whole affair as no business of mine. Soon after I was asked to supper. I promised, and went. Lo and behold! in came an old, stooping, heavy, crabbed friar! A servant followed with his books. I saw I must prepare for a brush. We sat down, and lest any time should be lost, the point was at once brought forward by our host. The friar made answer as he already had preached. I held my tongue, not liking to mix myself up in fruitless and provoking disputations. At last they asked me what view I took of it. And when I was obliged to speak, I spoke what I thought, but in few words and offhand. Upon this the friar began a long premeditated oration, long enough for at least two sermons, and bawled all supper time. He drew all his argument from the miracles, which he poured out upon us in numbers enough from the “Marial;” and then from other books of the same kind, which he ordered to be put on the table, he drew further authority for his stories. Soon after he had done I modestly began to answer; first, that in all his long discourse he had said nothing to convince those who perchance did not admit the miracles which he had recited, and _this might well be, and a man’s faith in Christ be firm notwithstanding_. And even if these were mostly true, they proved nothing of any moment; for though you might easily find a prince who would concede something to his enemies at the entreaty of his mother, yet never was there one so foolish as to publish a law which should provoke daring against him by the promise of impunity to all traitors who should perform certain offices to his mother.

‘Much having been said on both sides, I found that he was lauded to the skies while I was laughed at as a fool. The matter came at last to that pass, by the depraved zeal of men who cloaked their own vices under colour of piety, that the opinion could hardly be put down, though the Bishop with all his energy tried all the means in his power to do so.’[651]