Erasmus visits the shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham.
The College of Canons, under their Sub-prior, maintained chiefly by the offerings left by pilgrims upon the Virgin’s altar; the Priory Church, a relic of which still stands to attest its architectural beauty; the small unfinished chapel of the Virgin herself, the sea-winds whistling through its unglazed windows; the inner windowless wooden chapel, with its two doors for pilgrims’ ingress and egress; the Virgin’s shrine, rich in jewels, gold and silver ornaments, lit up by burning tapers; the dim religious light and scented air; the Canon at the altar, with jealous eye watching each pilgrim and his gift, and keeping guard against sacrilegious theft; the little wicket in the gateway throughthe outer wall, so small that a man must stoop low to pass through it, and yet through which, by the Virgin’s aid, an armed knight on horseback once escaped from his pursuer; the plate of copper, on which the knight’s figure was engraved in ancient costume with a beard like a goat, and his clothes fitting close to his body, with scarcely so much as a wrinkle in them; the little chapel towards the east, containing the middle joint of St. Peter’s finger, so large, the pilgrims thought, that Peter must needs have been a very lusty man; the house hard by, which it was said was ages ago brought suddenly, one winter time, when all things were covered with snow, from a place a great way off (though to the eyes of Erasmus its thatch, timber, walls, and everything about it, seemed of modern date); the concreted milk of the Holy Virgin, which looked like beaten chalk tempered with the white of an egg; the bold request of Erasmus, to be informed what evidence there was of its really being the milk of the Virgin; the contracted brows of the verger, as he referred them to the ‘authentic record’ of its pedigree, hung up high against the wall,—all this is described with so much of the graphic detail of an eyewitness, that one feels, in reading the ‘Colloquy,’ that it must record the writer’s vivid recollections of his own experience.
The Greek Ode of Erasmus.
The concluding incident of the ‘Colloquy,’ whether referring to a future visit, or only an imaginary one, evidently alludes to the Greek Ode mentioned in the letter to Ammonius. It tells how that, before they left the place, the Sub-prior, with some hesitation, modestly ventured to ask whether his present visitor was the same man who, about two years before, had hung up a votive tablet inscribed inHebrewletters:for Erasmus remarks, they call everything Hebrew which they cannot understand. The Sub-prior is then made to relate what great pains had been taken to read the Greek verses; what wiping of glasses; how one wise man thought they were written in Arabic letters, and another in altogether fictitious ones; how at length one had been able to make out the title, which was Latin written in Roman capitals—the verses themselves being in Greek, and written in Greek capitals. In reward for the explanation and translation of the Ode, the ‘Colloquy’ goes on to relate that the Sub-prior pulled out of his bag, and presented to his visitors a piece of wood cut from a beam on which the Virgin mother had been seen to rest.
Whether this concluding incident related in the ‘Colloquy’ was a real occurrence or not, it, at all events, confirms the testimony of the ‘Colloquy’ itself to the fact that Erasmus made this pilgrimage in a satirical and unbelieving mood, and that his votive ode was rather a joke played upon the ignorant canons, than any proof that he himself was a worshipper of the Virgin, or a believer in the efficacy of pilgrimages to her shrine.
I. ERASMUS LEAVES CAMBRIDGE, AND MEDITATES LEAVING ENGLAND (1513-14).
Erasmus at Cambridge.His real work.The New Testament and St. Jerome.
During the autumn of 1513 Erasmus made up his mind to leave Cambridge. He had come to England on the accession of Henry VIII. with full purpose to make it his permanent home.[456]That his friends would try to bring this about had been his last entreaty on leaving England for his visit to Italy. They had done their best for him. They had found all who cared for the advance of learning anxious to secure the residence of so great a scholar in their own country. The promises were indeed vague, but there were plenty of them, and altogether the chances of a fair maintenance for Erasmus had appeared to be good. He had settled at Cambridge intending to earn his living by teaching Greek to the students; expecting, from them and from the University, fees and a stipend sufficient to enable him to pay his way. But the drudgery of teaching Greek was by no means the work upon which Erasmus had set his heart. It was rather, like St. Paul’s tent-making, the price he had to pay for that leisure which he was bent upon devoting to hisreal work. This work was his fellow-work with Colet. Apart from the aid he was able to give to his friend, by taking up the cudgels for him at the University, and finding him teachers and schoolbooks for his school—for all this was done by-the-bye—he was labouring to make his own proper contribution towards the object to which both were devoting their all. He was labouring hard to produce an edition of the New Testament in the original Greek, with a new and free translation of his own, and simultaneously with this a corrected edition of the works of St. Jerome—the latter in itself an undertaking of enormous labour.
In letters written from Cambridge during the years 1511-1513, we catch stray glimpses of the progress of these great works. He writes to Colet, in August 1511, that ‘he is about attacking St. Paul,’[457]and in July 1512, that he has finished collating the New Testament, and is attacking St. Jerome.[458]
To Ammonius, in the camp, during the French campaign of 1513, he writes that he is working with almost superhuman zeal at the correction of the text of St. Jerome; and shortly after the close of the campaign against France, he tells his friend that ‘he himself has been waging no less fierce a warfare with the blunders of Jerome.’[459]And now, with his editions of the New Testament and Jerome nearly ready for the press, why should he waste any further time at Cambridge? He had complained from the first that he could get nothingout of the students.[460]All these years he had been, in spite of all his efforts, and notwithstanding an annual stipend secured upon a living in Kent, through the kindness of Warham, to a great extent dependent on his friends, obliged most unwillingly to beg, till he had become thoroughly ashamed of begging.[461]And now this autumn of 1513 had brought matters to a crisis. At Michaelmas the University had agreed to pay him thirty nobles,[462]and, on September 1, they had begged the assistance of Lord Mountjoy in the payment of this ‘enormous stipend’ for their Greek professor, adding, by way of pressing the urgency of their claim, that they must otherwise soon lose him.[463]
On November 28, Erasmus wrote to Ammonius that he had for some months lived like a cockle shut up in his shell, humming over his books. Cambridge, he said, was deserted because of the plague; and even when all the men were there, there was no large company. The expense was intolerable, the profits not a brass farthing. The last five months had, he said, cost him sixty nobles, but he had never received more than one from his audience. He was going to throw out his sheet-anchor this winter. If successful he would make his nest, if not he would flit.[464]
Erasmus leaves Cambridge.
The result was that in the winter of 1513-14 Erasmus finally left Cambridge. The disbanding of disaffected and demoralised soldiers had so increased the number of robbers on the public roads,[465]that travelling in the winter months was considered dangerous; but Erasmus was anxious to proceed with the publication of his two great works. He was in London by February, 1514.
He found Parliament sitting, and the war party having all their own way. He found the compliant Commons supporting by lavish grants of subsidies Henry VIII.’s ambition ‘to recover the realm of France, his very true patrimony and inheritance, and to reduce the same to his obedience,’[466]and carried away by the fulsome speeches of courtiers who drew a triumphant contrast between the setting fortunes and growing infirmities of the French king and the prospects of Henry, who, ‘like the rising sun, was growing brighter and stronger every day.’[467]While tax-collectors were pressing for the arrears of half a dozen previous subsidies, and Parliament was granting new ones, the liberality of English patrons was likely to decline. Their heads were too full of the war, and their purses too empty, to admit of their caring much at the moment about Erasmus and his literary projects.
Invited to the court of Prince Charles.
No wonder, therefore, that when his friends at the Court of the Netherlands urged his acceptance of an honorary place in the Privy Council of Prince Charles, which would not interfere with his literary labours, together with a pension which would furnish him withthe means to carry them on—no wonder that under these circumstances Erasmus accepted the invitation and concluded to leave England.
In reply to the Abbot of St. Bertin, he wrote an elegant letter,[468]gracefully acknowledging his great kindness in wishing to restore him to his fatherland. Not that he disliked England, or was wanting in patrons there. The Archbishop of Canterbury, if he had been a brother or a father, could not have been kinder to him, and by his gift he still held the pension out of the living in Kent. But the war had suddenly diverted the genius of England from its ordinary channels. The price of everything was becoming dearer and dearer. The liberality of patrons was becoming less and less. How could they do other than give sparingly with so many war-taxes to pay? He then proceeded:—
Letter to the Abbot of St. Bertin.
‘Oh that God would deign to still the tempest of war! What madness is it! The wars of Christian princes begin for the most part either out of ambition or hatred or lust, or like diseases of the mind. Consider also by whom they are carried on: by homicides, by outcasts, by gamblers, by ravishers, by the most sordid mercenary troops, who care more for a little pay than for their lives. These offscourings of mankind are to be received into your territory and your cities that you may carry on war. Think, too, of the crimes which are committed under pretext of war, for amid the din of arms good laws are silent; what rapine, what sacrilege, what other crimes of which decency forbids the mention! The demoralisation which it causes will linger in your country for years after the war is over....
‘It is much more glorious to found cities than to destroy them. In our times it is thepeoplewho build and improve cities, while the madness of princes destroys them. But, you may say, princes must vindicate their rights. Without speaking rashly of the deeds of princes, one thing is clear, that there are some princes at least who first do what they like, and then try to find some pretext for their deeds. And in this hurlyburly of human affairs, in the confusion of so many leagues and treaties, who cannot make out a title to what he wants? Meanwhile these wars are not waged for the good of thepeople, but to settle the question, who shall call himself their prince.
‘We ought to remember thatmen, and especially Christian men, arefree-men. And if for a long time they have flourished under a prince, and now acknowledge him, what need is there that the world should be turned upside down to make a change? If even among the heathen, long-continued consent [of the people] makes aprince, much more should it be so among Christians, with whom royalty is anadministration, not adominion.[469]...’
He concluded by urging the abbot to call to mind all that Christ and his apostles said about peace, and the tolerance of evil. If he did so, surely he would bring all his influence to bear upon Prince Charles and the Emperor in favour of a ‘Christian peace among Christian princes.’[470]
In writing to the Prince de Vere on the same subject Erasmus had expressed his grief that their common country had become mixed up with the wars, and his wish that he could safely put in writing what he thought upon the subject.[471]Whether safely or not, he had certainly now dared to speak his mind pretty fully in the letter to the Abbot of St. Bertin.
II. ERASMUS AND THE PAPAL AMBASSADOR (1514).
Erasmus had other opportunities of speaking out his mind about the war.
Erasmus dines with Ammonius and the Papal Ambassador in disguise.
There was a rumour afloat that a Papal ambassador had arrived in England—a Cardinal in disguise. It happened that Erasmus was invited to dine with his friend Ammonius. He went as a man goes to the house of an intimate friend, without ceremony, and expecting to dine with him alone. He found, however, another guest at his friend’s table—a man in a long robe, his hair bound up in a net, and with a single servant attending him. Erasmus, after saluting his friend, eyed the stranger with some curiosity. Struck by the military sternness of the man’s look, he asked of Ammonius in Greek, ‘Who is he?’ He replied, also in Greek, ‘A great merchant.’ ‘I thought so,’ said Erasmus; and caring to take no further notice of him, they sat down to table, the stranger taking precedence. Erasmus chatted with Ammonius as though they had been alone, and, amongst other things, happened to ask him whether the rumour was true that an ambassador had come from Leo X. to negotiate a peace between England and France. ‘The Pope,’ he continued,‘did not take me into his councils; but if he had I should not have advised him to propose a peace.’ ‘Why?’ asked Ammonius. ‘Because it would not be wise to talk about peace,’ replied Erasmus. ‘Why?’ ‘Because a peace cannot be negotiated all at once; and in the meantime, while the monarchs are treating about the conditions, the soldiers, at the very thought of peace, will be incited to far worse projects than in war itself; whereas by atrucethe hands of the soldiery maybe tied at once. I should propose a truce of three years, in order that the terms might be arranged of areally permanent treaty of peace.’ Ammonius assented, and said that he thought this was what the ambassador was trying to do. ‘Is he a Cardinal?’ asked Erasmus. ‘What made you think he was?’ said the other. ‘The Italians say so.’ ‘And how do they know?’ asked Ammonias, again fencing with Erasmus’s question. ‘Is it true that he is a Cardinal?’ repeated Erasmus by-and-bye, as though he meant to have a straightforward answer. ‘His spirit is the spirit of a Cardinal,’ evasively replied Ammonius, brought to bay by the direct question. ‘It is something,’ observed Erasmus, smiling, ‘to have a Cardinal’s spirit!’
The stranger all this time had remained silent, drinking in this conversation between the two friends.
At last he made an observation or two in Italian, mixing in a Latin word now and then, as an intelligent merchant might be expected to do. Seeing that Erasmus took no notice of what he said, he turned round, and in Latin observed, ‘I wonder you should care to live in this barbarous nation, unless you choose rather to be allalonehere thanfirstat Rome.’
Erasmus astonished and somewhat nettled to heara merchant talk in this way, with disdainful dryness replied that he was living in a country in which there was a very great number of men distinguished for their learning. He had rather hold the last place among these than be nowhere at Rome.
Ammonius, seeing the awkward turn that things were taking, and that Erasmus in his present humour might probably, as he sometimes did, speak his mind rather more plainly than might be desirable, interposed, and, to prevent further perplexity, suggested that they should adjourn to the garden.[472]
Erasmus found out afterwards that the merchant stranger with whom he had had this singular brush was the Pope’s ambassador himself—Cardinal Canossa!
III. PARTING INTERCOURSE BETWEEN ERASMUS AND COLET (1514).
Meanwhile, in spite of Papal Nuncios, the preparations for the continuance of the war proceeded as before. There were no signs of peace. The King had had a dangerous illness, but had risen from his couch ‘fierce as ever against France.’[473]
With heavy hearts Colet and Erasmus held on their way. The war lay like a dark cloud on their horizon. It was throwing back their work. How it had changed the plans of Erasmus has been shown. It had also made Colet’s position one of greater difficulty. It is true that hitherto royal favour had protected him from the hatred of his persecutors, but the Bishop of London and his party were more exasperated against him than ever, and who could tell how soon the King’sfickle humour might change? His love of war was growing wilder and wilder. He was becoming intoxicated by it. And who could tell what the young King might do if his passions ever should rise into mastery over better feelings? Even the King’s present favour, though it had preserved Colet as yet unharmed in person, did not prevent his being cramped and hindered in his work. Whatever he might do was sure to be misconstrued, and to become the subject of the ‘idle talk of the malevolent.’[474]
Colet troubled by family disputes.
It would seem also that other clouds than that of the war cast their shadow at this time over Colet’s life. By the erection and foundation of his school, he had reduced his income almost more than he could well afford,[475]and accustomed, as he was, to abundant means, it was natural that he should be harassed and annoyed by anything likely still further to narrow his resources. He seems to have been troubled with vexed questions of property and family dispute—most irksome of all others to a man who was giving life and wealth away in a great work.
Erasmus, six months previously, in July 1513, had written to Colet thus:—
Erasmus advises Colet to give in.
‘The end of your letter grieved me, for you write that you are more harassed than usual by the troubles of business. I desire indeed for you to be removed as far as possible from worldly business; not because I am afraid lest this world, entangled though it be, should get hold of you and claim you for its own, butbecause I had rather such genius, such eloquence, such learning should be devoted wholly to Christ. What if you should be unable to extricate yourself from it! Take care lest little by little you become more and more deeply immersed in it. Perhaps it might be better togive in, rather than to purchase victory at so great a cost. For peace of mind is worth a great deal. And these things are the thorns which accompany riches. In the meantime, oppose a good honest conscience to the idle talk of the malevolent. Wrap yourself up in Christ and in him alone, and this entangled world will disturb you less. But why should I, like the sow, preach to Minerva; or, like the sick man, prescribe for the doctor? Farewell, my best beloved teacher!’—From Cambridge, July 11 [1513].[476]
Six months had passed since Erasmus had thus advised his friend togive inrather than to conquer at the cost of his peace of mind, but Colet had not yet succeeded in getting rid of his perplexities. It would almost seem that the same old quarrel was still lingering on unhealed; for there was now a dispute between Colet and an aged uncle of his, and the bone of contention was a large amount of property.[477]
Colet does give in at last.
One day Colet took Erasmus with him by boat to dine with Archbishop Warham at Lambeth Palace. As they rowed up the Thames, Colet sat pensively reading in his book. At dinner, being set opposite his uncle at table, Erasmus noticed that he was ill at ease, caring neither to talk nor to eat. And the uncle would doubtless have remained as silent as the nephew, had not the Archbishop drawn out the garrulousness ofhis old age by cheerful conversation. After dinner the three were closeted together. Erasmus knew not what all this meant. But, as they were rowing back to town in the boat, Colet said, ‘Erasmus, you’re a happy man, and have done me a great service;’ and then he went on to tell his friend how angry he had been with his uncle, and how he had even thought of going to law with him, but in this state of mind, having taken a copy of the ‘Enchiridion’ with him, he had read the ‘rule’ there given ‘against anger and revenge,’ and it had done him so much good that he had held his tongue at dinner, and with the Archbishop’s kind assistance after dinner, made up matters with his uncle.[478]
Apart from these cares and troubles, Colet’s heart was naturally saddened with the thought of so soon parting with his dearest friend, and, as he now could feel, his ablest fellow-worker. The two were often together. Colet sometimes would send for Erasmus to be his companion when he dined out, or when he had to make a journey.[479]At these times Erasmus testifies that no one could be more cheerful than Colet was. It was his habit always to take a book with him. His conversation often turned upon religious subjects; and though in public he was prudently reserved and cautious in what he said, at these times to his bosom friend he most freely spoke out his real sentiments.
Pilgrimage to Canterbury.
On one occasion Colet and Erasmus paid a visit together to the shrine of St. Thomas-à-Becket. Going on pilgrimage was now the fashionable thing. Howadmirals and soldiers who had narrowly escaped in the war went to the shrine of Our Lady at Walsingham to fulfil the vows they had made whilst their lives were in peril; how even Queen Katherine had been to invoke the Virgin’s aid upon her husband’s French campaign, and to return thanks for the victory over the Scots, has already been seen. It has also been mentioned that Erasmus had paid a visit to Walsingham from Cambridge in a satirical and sceptical mood, and had returned convinced of the absurdity of the whole thing, doubting the genuineness of the relics, and ridiculing the credulity of pilgrims. It seems that before leaving England he had a desire to pay a similar visit to the rival shrine of St. Thomas-à-Becket.
The same ‘Colloquy’ in which Erasmus describes his visit to Walsingham enables us to picture the two friends on this occasion threading the narrow rustic lanes of Kent on horseback, making the best of their way to Canterbury.[480]
The shrine of St. Thomas-à-Becket.
As they approach the city the outline of the cathedral church rises imposingly above all surrounding objects. Its two towers seem to stand, as it were, bidding welcome to approaching pilgrims. The sound of its bells rolls through the country far and wide in melodious peals. At length they reach the city, and, armed with a letter of introduction from Archbishop Warham, enter the spacious nave of the cathedral. This is open to the public, and beyond its own vastness and solemn grandeur, presents little of mark, save that they notice the gospel of Nicodemus among other books affixed to the columns, and here and there sepulchral monuments of the nameless dead. A vaulted passage under the steps ascending to the iron grating of the choir, brings them into the north side of the church. Here they are shown a plain ancient wooden altar of the Virgin, whereupon is exhibited the point of the dagger with which St. Thomas’s brain was pierced at the time of his murder, and whose sacred rust pilgrims are expected most devoutly to kiss. In the vault below they are next shown the martyr’s skull, covered with silver, save that the place where the dagger pierced it is left bare for inspection: alsothe hair shirt and girdle with which the saint was wont to mortify his flesh. Thence they are taken into the choir to behold its treasures—bones without end; skulls, jaw-bones, teeth, hands, fingers, arms—to all which the pilgrim’s kiss is duly expected.
Colet’s disgust at the relics of St. Thomas-à-Becket.
But Colet having had about enough of this, begins to show evident tokens of dislike to kiss any more. Whereupon the verger piously shuts up the rest of his treasures from the gaze of the careless and profane. The high altar and its load of costly ornaments next claim attention; after which they pass into the vestry, where is preserved the staff of St. Thomas, surrounded by a wonderful display of silk vestments and golden candlesticks. Thence they are conducted up a flight of steps into a chapel behind the high altar, and shown the face of the saint set in gold and jewels. Here, again, Colet breaks in upon the dumb show with awkward bluntness. He asks the guide whether St. Thomas-à-Becket when he lived was not very kind to the poor? The verger assents. ‘Nor can he have changed his mind on this point, I should think,’ continues Colet, ‘unless it be for the better?’ The verger nods a sign of approbation. Whereupon Colet submits the query whether the saint, having been so liberal to the poor when a poor man himself, would not now rather permit them to help themselves to some of his vast riches, in relief of their many necessities, than let them so often be tempted into sin by their need? And the guide still listening in silence, Colet in his earnest way proceeds boldly to assert his own firm conviction that this most holy man would be even delighted that, now that he is dead, these riches of his should go to lighten the poor man’s load of poverty,rather than be hoarded up here. At which sacrilegious remark of Colet’s the verger, contracting his brow and pouting his lips, looks upon his visitors with a wondering stare out of his gorgon eyes, and doubtless would have made short work with them were it not that they have come with letters of introduction from the archbishop. Erasmus throws in a few pacifying words and pieces of coin, and the two friends pass on to inspect, under the escort now of the prior himself, the rest of the riches and relics of the place. All again proceeds smoothly till a chest is opened containing the rags on which the saint, when in the flesh, was accustomed to wipe his nose and the sweat from his brow. The prior, knowing the position and dignity of Colet, and wishing to do him becoming honour, graciously offers him as a present of untold value one of these rags! Colet, breaking through all rules of politeness, takes up the rag between the tips of his fingers with a somewhat fastidious air and a disdainful chuckle, and then lays it down again in evident disgust. The prior, not choosing to take notice of Colet’s profanity, abruptly shuts up the chest and politely invites them to partake of some refreshment. After which the two friends again mount their horses, and make the best of their way back to London.
Their way lies through a narrow lane, worn deep by traffic and weather, and with a high bank on either side. Colet rides to the left of the road. Presently an old mendicant monk comes out of a house[481]on Colet’s side of the way, and proceeds to sprinkle him with holywater. Though not in the best of tempers, Colet submits to this annoyance without quite losing it. But when the old mendicant next presents to him the upper leather of an old shoe for his kiss, Colet abruptly demands what he wants with him. The old man replies that the relic is a piece of St. Thomas’s shoe! This is more than Colet knows how to put up with. ‘What!’ he says passionately, turning to Erasmus, ‘do these fools want us to kiss the shoes of every good man? They pick out the filthiest things they can find, and ask us to kiss them.’ Erasmus, to counteract the effect of such a remark upon the mind of the astonished mendicant, gives him a trifle, and the pilgrims pass on their journey, discussing the difficult question how abuses such as they have witnessed this day are to be remedied. Colet cannot restrain his indignant feeling, but Erasmus urges that a rough or sudden remedy might be worse than the disease. These superstitions must, he thinks, be tolerated until an opportunity arises of correcting them without creating disorder.
There can be little doubt that the graphic picture of which the above is only a rapid sketch was drawn from actual recollections, and described the real feelings of Erasmus and his bolder friend.
Little did the two friends dream, as they rode back to town debating these questions, how soon they would find a final solution. Men’s faith was then so strong and implicit in ‘Our Lady of Walsingham’ that kings and queens were making pilgrimage to her shrine, and the common people, as they gazed at night upon the ‘milky way,’ believed that it was the starry pathway marked out by heaven to direct pilgrims to the place where the milk of the Holy Virginwas preserved, and called it the ‘Walsingham way.’ Little did they dream that in another five and twenty years the canons would be convicted of forging relics and feigning miracles, and the far-famed image of the Virgin dragged to Chelsea by royal order to be there publicly burned. Then pilgrims were flocking to Canterbury in crowds to adore the relics and to admire the riches of St. Thomas’s shrine. Little did they dream that in five and twenty years St. Thomas’s bones would share the fiery fate of the image of the Virgin, and the gold and jewellery of St. Thomas’s shrine be carried off in chests upon the shoulders of eight stout men, and cast without remorse into the royal exchequer![482]
I. ERASMUS GOES TO BASLE TO PRINT HIS NEW TESTAMENT (1514).
Erasmus crosses the Channel.
It was on a July morning in the year 1514 that Erasmus again crossed the Channel. The wind was fair, the sea calm, the sky bright and sunny; but during the easy passage Erasmus had a heavy heart. He had once more left his English friends behind him, bent upon a solitary pilgrimage to Basle, in order that his edition of the letters of St. Jerome and his Greek New Testament might be printed at the press of Froben the printer. But, always unlucky on leaving British shores, he missed his baggage from the boat when, after the bustle of embarkation, he looked to see that all was right. To have lost his manuscripts—his Jerome, his New Testament, the labours of so many years—to be on his way to Basle without the books for the printing of which he was taking the long journey—this was enough to weigh down his heart with a grief which he might well compare to that of a parent who has lost his children. It turned out, after all, to be a trick of the knavish sailors, who threw the traveller’s luggage into another boat in order to extort a few coins for its recovery. Erasmus, in the end, got his luggage back again; but hemight well say that, though the passage was a good one, it was an anxious one to him.[483]
Letter from Servatius.
On his arrival at the castle ofHammes, near Calais, where he had agreed to spend a few days with his old pupil and friend Lord Mountjoy, he found waiting for him a letter from Servatius, prior of the monastery of Stein, in Holland—themonastery into which he had been ensnared when a youth against his judgment by treachery and foul play.
It was a letter doubtless written with kindly feeling, for the prior had once been his companion; but still he evidently took it as a letter from the prior of the convent from which he was a kind of runaway, not only inviting, but in measureclaiminghim back again, reproachfully reminding him of his vows, censuring his wandering life, his throwing off the habit of his order, and ending with a bribe—the offer of a post of great advantage if he would return.
Erasmus return! No, truly; that he would not! But the very naming of it brought back to mind not only the wrongs he had suffered in his youth; the cruelty and baseness of his guardians; his miserable experience of monastic life; how hardly he had escaped out of it; his trials during a chequered wandering life since; but also his entry upon fellow-work with Colet; the noble-hearted friends with whom he had been privileged to come in contact; the noble work in which they were now engaged together. What! give up these to put his neck again under a yoke which had so galled him in dark times gone by! And for what? To become perchance thefather-confessor of a nunnery! It was as though Pharaoh had sent an embassy to Moses offering to make him a taskmaster if he would but return into Egypt.
No wonder that Erasmus, finding this letter from Servatius waiting for him on his arrival at the castle of his friend, took up his pen to reply somewhat warmly before proceeding on his journey. His letter lies as a kind of waymark by the roadside of his wandering life, and with some abridgment and omissions may be thus translated:—
Erasmus to Servatius.‘... Being on a journey, I must reply in but few words, and confine myself to matters of the most importance.Erasmus alludes to his youth.Erasmus hates the monastic life.‘Men hold opinions so diverse that it is impossible to please everybody. Thatmydesire is in very deed to follow that which is really the best, God is my witness! It was never my intention to change my mode of life or my habit; not because I approved of either, but lest I should give rise to scandal.Youknow well that it was by the pertinacity of my guardians and the persuasion of wicked men that I was forced rather than induced to enter the monastic life. Afterwards, when I found out how entirely unsuited it was for me, I was restrained by the taunts of Cornelius Wertem and the bashfulness of youth.... But it may be objected that I had a year of what is called “probation,” and was of mature age. Ridiculous! As though anyone could require that a boy of seventeen, brought up in literary studies, should have attained to a self-knowledge rare even in an old man—should be able to learn in one year whatmany men grow grey without learning! Be this as it may, I never liked the monastic life; and I liked it less than ever after I had tried it; but I was ensnared in the way I have mentioned. For all this, I am free to confess that a man who is really a good man may live well in any kind of life.His ill health.His works.‘I have in the meantime tried to find that mode of living in which I should be least prone to evil. And I think assuredly that I have found it; I have lived with sober men, I have lived a life of literary study, and these have drawn me away from many vices. It has been my lot to live on terms of intimacy with men of true Christian wisdom, and I have been bettered by their conversation.... Whenever the thought has occurred to me of returning into your fraternity it has always called back to my remembrance the jealousy of many, the contempt of all; converse how cold, how trifling! how lacking in Christian wisdom! feastings more fit for the laity! the mode of life, as a whole, one which, if you subtract its ceremonies from it, has nothing left that seems to me worth having. Lastly, I have called to mind my bodily infirmities, now increased upon me by age and toil, by reason of which I should have both failed in coming up to your mark and also sacrificed my own life. For some years now I have been afflicted with the stone, and its frequent recurrence obliges me to observe great regularity in my habits. I have had some experience both of the climate of Holland and of your particular diet and habits, and I feel sure that, had I returned, nothing else could have come of it but trouble to you and death to me.‘But it may be that you deem it a blessed thing todie at a good age in the midst of your brotherhood. This is a notion which deceives and deludes not you alone, but almost everybody. We think that Christ and religion consist in certain places, and garments and modes of life, and ceremonial observances. It is all up, we think, with a man who changes his white habit for a black one, who substitutes a hat for a hood, and who frequently changes his residence. I will be bold to say that, on the other hand, great injury has arisen to Christian piety from what we call the “religious orders,” although it may be that they were introduced with a pious motive.... Pick out the most lauded and laudable of all of them, and you may look in vain, so far as I can see, for any likeness to Christ, unless it be in cold and Judaical ceremonies. It is on account of these that they think so much of themselves; it is on account of these that they judge and condemn others. How much more accordant to the teaching of Christ would it be to look upon all Christendom as one home; as it were, one monastery; to regard all men as canons and brothers; to count the sacrament of baptism the chief religious vow; not to care where you live, if only you live well!... And now to say a word about my works. The “Enchiridion” I fancy you have read.... The book of “Adagia,” printed by Aldus, I don’t know whether you have seen.... I have also written a book, “De Rerum et Verborum Copiâ,” which I inscribed to my friend Colet.... For these two years past, amongst other things, I have been correcting the text of the “Letters of Jerome.”... By the collation of Greek and ancient codices, I have alsocorrected the text of the whole New Testament, and made annotations not without theological value on more than one thousand places. I have commenced Commentaries on St. Paul’s Epistles, which I shall finish when the others are published; for I have made up my mind to work at sacred literature to the day of my death. Great men say that in these things I am successful where others are not. In your mode of life I should entirely fail. Although I have had intercourse with so many men of learning, both here and in Italy and in France, I have never yet found one who advised me to betake myself back again to you.... I beg that you will not forget to commend me in your prayers to the keeping of Christ. If ever I should come really to know that it would be doing my duty toHimto return to your brotherhood, on that very day I will start on the journey. Farewell, my once pleasant companion, but now reverend father.‘From Hammes Castle, near Calais, 9th July, 1514.’[484]
Erasmus to Servatius.
‘... Being on a journey, I must reply in but few words, and confine myself to matters of the most importance.
Erasmus alludes to his youth.Erasmus hates the monastic life.
‘Men hold opinions so diverse that it is impossible to please everybody. Thatmydesire is in very deed to follow that which is really the best, God is my witness! It was never my intention to change my mode of life or my habit; not because I approved of either, but lest I should give rise to scandal.Youknow well that it was by the pertinacity of my guardians and the persuasion of wicked men that I was forced rather than induced to enter the monastic life. Afterwards, when I found out how entirely unsuited it was for me, I was restrained by the taunts of Cornelius Wertem and the bashfulness of youth.... But it may be objected that I had a year of what is called “probation,” and was of mature age. Ridiculous! As though anyone could require that a boy of seventeen, brought up in literary studies, should have attained to a self-knowledge rare even in an old man—should be able to learn in one year whatmany men grow grey without learning! Be this as it may, I never liked the monastic life; and I liked it less than ever after I had tried it; but I was ensnared in the way I have mentioned. For all this, I am free to confess that a man who is really a good man may live well in any kind of life.
His ill health.His works.
‘I have in the meantime tried to find that mode of living in which I should be least prone to evil. And I think assuredly that I have found it; I have lived with sober men, I have lived a life of literary study, and these have drawn me away from many vices. It has been my lot to live on terms of intimacy with men of true Christian wisdom, and I have been bettered by their conversation.... Whenever the thought has occurred to me of returning into your fraternity it has always called back to my remembrance the jealousy of many, the contempt of all; converse how cold, how trifling! how lacking in Christian wisdom! feastings more fit for the laity! the mode of life, as a whole, one which, if you subtract its ceremonies from it, has nothing left that seems to me worth having. Lastly, I have called to mind my bodily infirmities, now increased upon me by age and toil, by reason of which I should have both failed in coming up to your mark and also sacrificed my own life. For some years now I have been afflicted with the stone, and its frequent recurrence obliges me to observe great regularity in my habits. I have had some experience both of the climate of Holland and of your particular diet and habits, and I feel sure that, had I returned, nothing else could have come of it but trouble to you and death to me.
‘But it may be that you deem it a blessed thing todie at a good age in the midst of your brotherhood. This is a notion which deceives and deludes not you alone, but almost everybody. We think that Christ and religion consist in certain places, and garments and modes of life, and ceremonial observances. It is all up, we think, with a man who changes his white habit for a black one, who substitutes a hat for a hood, and who frequently changes his residence. I will be bold to say that, on the other hand, great injury has arisen to Christian piety from what we call the “religious orders,” although it may be that they were introduced with a pious motive.... Pick out the most lauded and laudable of all of them, and you may look in vain, so far as I can see, for any likeness to Christ, unless it be in cold and Judaical ceremonies. It is on account of these that they think so much of themselves; it is on account of these that they judge and condemn others. How much more accordant to the teaching of Christ would it be to look upon all Christendom as one home; as it were, one monastery; to regard all men as canons and brothers; to count the sacrament of baptism the chief religious vow; not to care where you live, if only you live well!... And now to say a word about my works. The “Enchiridion” I fancy you have read.... The book of “Adagia,” printed by Aldus, I don’t know whether you have seen.... I have also written a book, “De Rerum et Verborum Copiâ,” which I inscribed to my friend Colet.... For these two years past, amongst other things, I have been correcting the text of the “Letters of Jerome.”... By the collation of Greek and ancient codices, I have alsocorrected the text of the whole New Testament, and made annotations not without theological value on more than one thousand places. I have commenced Commentaries on St. Paul’s Epistles, which I shall finish when the others are published; for I have made up my mind to work at sacred literature to the day of my death. Great men say that in these things I am successful where others are not. In your mode of life I should entirely fail. Although I have had intercourse with so many men of learning, both here and in Italy and in France, I have never yet found one who advised me to betake myself back again to you.... I beg that you will not forget to commend me in your prayers to the keeping of Christ. If ever I should come really to know that it would be doing my duty toHimto return to your brotherhood, on that very day I will start on the journey. Farewell, my once pleasant companion, but now reverend father.
‘From Hammes Castle, near Calais, 9th July, 1514.’[484]
Visits the Abbot of St. Bertin.On his way to Basle.Accident near Ghent.
This bold letter written, Erasmus took leave of his host, and hastened to repay by a short embrace the kindness of another friend, the Abbot of St. Bertin.[485]After a two days’ halt to accomplish this object, he again mounted his horse, and, followed by his servant and baggage, set his face resolutely towards Basle: cheered in spirit by the marks of friendship receivedduring the past few days, and anxious to reach his journey’s end that he might set about his work.
But all haste is not good speed. As he approached the city of Ghent, while he chanced to be turningoneway to speak to his servant, his horse took fright at something lying on the road, and turned round theotherway, severely straining thereby Erasmus’s back.
It was with the greatest difficulty and torture that he reached Ghent. There he lay for some days motionless on his back at the inn, unable to stand upright, and fearing the worst. By degrees, however, he again became able to move, and to write an amusing account of his adventure to Lord Mountjoy;[486]telling him that he had vowed to St. Paul that, if restored to health, he would complete the Commentaries he was writing on the Epistle to the Romans; and adding that he was already so much better that he hoped ere long to proceed another stage to Antwerp. Antwerp was accordingly reached in due course, and from thence he was able to pursue his journey.
At Louvain he prepared for publication a collection of stray pieces, including amongst them the ‘Institutes of a Christian Man,’ written by Colet for his school in English prose, and turned into Latin verse by Erasmus. In the letter prefixed to the collection[487]he spoke of Colet as a man ‘than whom, in my opinion, the kingdom of England has not another more pious, or who more truly knows Christ.’[488]Two editions of this volumewere published at Cologne in the course of a few months by different typographers.[489]