That Erasmus should have been solicited by so many parties to write against Luther was due to the quite extraordinary fame and influence of this scholar who, by common consent, was the first authority of the day on classical and critical studies.
The prolific Dutch author was venerated with fanatical admiration by the younger Humanists as the founder and head of their school. Mutian had gone so far as to write: “He is divine and to be honoured as a god.” The term “Divus Erasmus” was frequently applied to him. Since, owing to his peculiar standpoint in ecclesiastical matters, he was reckoned by Luther’s co-religionists as one of their party, the request to write against Luther amounted to an invitation publicly to renounce all allegiance to a party which was seeking to secure him in its own interests.
His great fame in the domain of learning was unquestionably well merited. From his ever-changing place of abode, from England, Italy, the Netherlands and especially (1521-1529) from Basle, he sent forth into the learned world his books, all written in the most fluent Latin, and dealing not only with classical subjects and matters of general literary culture, but also with religious questions and historical criticism. Thanks to his philological learning he was able to handle most advantageously the text of the Bible and the Fathers of the Church. The applause which was showered upon him by all scholars who were dissatisfied with the traditional course of studies was due not merely to his polished language and his wit, but chiefly to the new method of which he made use, particularly in dealing with the Fathers, viz. to his endeavour to seek out the best and oldest sources with the help of criticism. Among the many who formed themselves on his example, and, so to speak, in his school, were several of Luther’s friends and co-workers, for instance, Melanchthon and Justus Jonas.
The “Enchiridion militis christiani,” published by Erasmus in 1501, was greeted with joy by the neo-Humanists as a new presentment, in harmony with the tendency of the day, of the duties of a Christian; many of them had, however, no better conception of Christianity than Erasmus himself, who had already then forsaken his Order — he was an Augustinian Canon — though he received the requisite dispensation only in 1517, and whose performance of his priestly duties was anything but satisfactory. The writing in question, a devotional manual for the learned, also made him many enemies, for, in it, he attacked various popular devotions and religious institutions sanctioned by the Church, ostensibly in order to bring to light the true piety. Even more so was this the case with his “Praise of Folly” (“Encomium Moriae,” 1509), a satire on the morals and ecclesiastical conditions of his time, brimful of exaggeration and animosity against certain institutions in the Church, more particularly the religious life. Among those who were desirous of innovations, the book was so well received that it ran through at least twenty-seven editions during the author’s lifetime. The proud, witty fault-finding of the great man achieved an equally great success in the “Colloquia familiaria,” which appeared in 1518 and showed his style at its perfection. Intended as a handbook of latinity and general conduct, it was fated to be excluded from the more serious schools on account of the licentiousness of tone and language which pervades certain chapters.
The opinion of this leading spokesman of the Renaissance was, that it was necessary to break away completely from the Middle Ages; that for four hundred years Christ had been almost forgotten (“Christus pene abolitus”), and hence a return to the simplicity of the gospel was indispensable; to the “simplicitas doctrinae,” secured by the stripping off of all the padding of scholasticism, was to be united the original “simplicitas vitae christianae” and neglect of external practices. He set up a “Philosophy of Christ,” of which the bare sobriety had no need of the Pharisaism of ceremonies, i.e. of the invocation of Saints and the veneration of images and relics, of monastic vows, canonical hours, fast-days, etc. Erasmus was not desirous of shaking the foundations of the ancient dogmas, nor did he, like Luther, lay hands upon the authority of the Church; yet he attacked so many of her institutions and with such terribly effective satire that he seemed to threaten the Church herself. Hardly ever had respect for the Roman See been so undermined as by his censure of the Popes and his tendency to contrast their assumption of authority with the humility of the Bishops of Rome in olden days.
Nor was even the Bible safe from his love of innovation, inasmuch as he was wont to elucidate more particularly the facts of the Old Testament with the help of a spiritual interpretation, termed by him allegorical, by which the historical and revealed contents were explained away. His wish, too, was that the Bible, with notes thus interpreting its narratives, should be read by all, even by the unlearned. The “Simple Theology,” which he was eager to set up in place of Scholasticism, beneath the splendour of the Humanistic language in which it was clothed, was exceedingly poor in ideas; so elastic was his language also, “so infinitely flexible and accommodating, so susceptible of being variously interpreted according to individual taste, that people of all creeds and of no creed ... could point to him as their guide.” He had himself to blame for the fact, that he was regarded with great suspicion in Catholic circles, for, owing to his diplomatic caution, no one knew how far he intended to go in his censure of ecclesiastical institutions; whether he merely wished to blame the corruption then rampant, or whether he wished to strike a blow at the Church herself. Besides his positive hatred of the monastic life, what is particularly noticeable is his fundamental rejection of Scholasticism, which, according to his oft-repeated assertion, “had replaced God’s Word by human ideas.” As a Protestant theologian opines: “We may say, that the mighty intellectual work, which, in spite of all its faults, was embodied in the ingenious systems of the Schoolmen failed entirely to be appreciated by him.” Nor was this the only thing he failed to appreciate. He understood nothing of the mighty evolution of the Church in previous ages, of the character of her discipline and canon law, of her theology and of the great results attained by mediæval philosophy. He did not even possess sufficient knowledge of the practical requirements of his own age, when Luther’s hand was already at work, demolishing the edifice of the Church. The one-sided scholar, blinded by the incense of praise, was unfitted for the task of directing his contemporaries in matters of religion.
It is wonderful to see how well he knew how to secure the good-will of dignitaries, secular or ecclesiastical, by low flattery expressed in classic language. He exhibited very markedly certain qualities not infrequently observed in eminent Humanists, viz. want of character, fickleness in words and behaviour and extraordinary sensitiveness to criticism. His vanity was matched by the petty vindictiveness of the satires with which he lashes his opponents, and all who dared to disagree with him. Material assistance from the great ones of the earth was never lacking to him, the demi-god of the intellectual sphere; when declining an invitation to go to Germany he could say: “The Emperor implores me to come to Spain, King Ferdinand wants me at Vienna, Margaret in Brabant and Henry in England; Sigismund asks me to go to Poland and Francis to France, and all offer me rich emoluments.”
It is not surprising, that when Luther came forward many elements of his new teaching were at once welcomed with sympathy by Erasmus and his school.
“It cannot be denied, that Luther commenced to play an excellent part and to vindicate the cause of Christ — which had been almost wiped off the face of the earth — amidst great and general applause.” Thus wrote Erasmus to Duke George of Saxony as late as 1522. Many of Erasmus’s sayings in his books and confidential letters in favour of Luther’s reform were cherished as oracles. His testimonies in favour of Luther’s writings and his private life were spread far and wide, though he really knew little of Luther’s works (those written in German he could not even read), and owed all his information concerning his life to Humanist friends who were prejudiced in Luther’s favour.
It was true that he was not personally acquainted with Luther, he wrote on April 14, 1519, from Antwerp to Frederick the Elector of Saxony, and, of his writings, he had,
so far, read only certain extracts; “but all who were conversant with his life approved of it, since he was above every suspicion of ambition. The purity of his character is such that he even wins over the heathen. No one has shown his error or refuted him, and yet they call him a heretic.” Hence he urges the Prince not to abandon an innocent man to malicious persons. It was probably this letter which confirmed the Elector in his determination not to withdraw from Luther his protection. “Luther’s life is approved by everyone here,” Erasmus writes on April 22 of the same year from Louvain to Melanchthon; “opinions differ with regard to his learning.... Luther has rightly found fault with some things, would that he had done so with a success equal to his courage.” His letters to England are in the same strain: “All are agreed in praise of this man’s life. It is in itself no small matter that his conduct is so blameless that even his enemies can find nothing with which to reproach him.”
To Luther himself, on May 30, 1519, in reply to a friendly and very submissive letter received from him, he complains of the attacks made upon him at Louvain as the alleged prime instigator of the Lutheran movement. He had replied — what as a matter of fact deprives the testimony he had given in his favour of much of its weight — that Luther was quite unknown to him (“te mihi ignotissimum esse”), that he had not yet read his books and was therefore unable to express either approval or disapproval. “I hold myself, as far as is permissible, aloof (‘me integrum servo’), that I may be of greater service to the revival of learning. More is gained by well-mannered modesty than by storming.” He adds other admonitions to peaceableness and prudence, and, after some cautious expressions of praise and thanks for his Commentary on the Psalms, at which he had been able to cast only a cursory glance, finally wishes him “a daily increase of the Spirit of Christ to His honour and the public weal.” By this letter, which appeared in print a few weeks later, Erasmus offended both parties; to Luther’s followers the author appeared too reticent, and to be wanting in cordiality; to his opponents he seemed unduly to favour the innovations. To justify himself he sent out several letters, one being to Archbishop Albert of Mayence on November 1, 1519. In this he admits the existence of “certain sparks of an excellent, evangelical spirit” in Luther, “who is not striving after either honours or riches” and “at whose writings the best minds take no offence.” Luther should not “be suppressed, but rather brought to a right frame of mind”; he finds fault with the fact that in him an honest man has been unfairly and publicly defamed; Luther had only too just cause for his proceeding in the thousand abuses prevailing in ecclesiastical life and in theology. Here again he is careful to add, as usual, that he had not found time to peruse Luther’s writings. This letter, which was to reach Albert through Hutten, and with which he at once became acquainted, Luther calls an “egregia epistola,” which might well be printed. Hutten, in point of fact, had the letter printed before handing it to the addressee, and, on his own responsibility, altered the name “Lutherus” into the more significant “Lutherus noster.”
Erasmus, while thus whitewashing and indirectly furthering Luther’s cause, wrote with less restraint to Zwingli: “It seems to me that I have taught well-nigh all that Luther teaches, only less violently, and without so many enigmas and paradoxes.” It was his desire to be reckoned a leader in every field.
After the breach between Luther and the ecclesiastical past had been consummated in 1520, Erasmus became more and more guarded in his utterances, whether public or private. His blame of Luther becomes ever more severe, though he is still desirous of finding a via media, and is willing to approve of far too much in Luther’s action. The excommunication of the heretic by the ecclesiastical authorities he describes in one of his letters after the publication of the Bull as an unfortunate mistake, showing want of charity; a peaceful adjustment of the controversy might easily have been reached by means of a council of wise men; this course his biassed mind still regarded as feasible.
It was on July 6, 1520, only a few days before Luther broke out into the exclamation: “The dice have fallen in my favour” (above, ), that Erasmus, alarmed at the tone of Luther’s controversial writings, wrote to Spalatin warning him that Luther was utterly wanting in moderation and that Christ was surely not guiding his pen. He now exerted himself to dissociate from Luther those of his friends who had not as yet entirely gone over to him, and to retain them for the Church, for instance, Justus Jonas. As for himself he declared he would never be dragged away, either in life or death, from communion with the ecclesiastical authority ordained by God. His complaints concerning Luther’s unrestrained violence and vituperation were ceaseless; he saw the effect on Luther of the popular feeling, and the great applause he met with, he even attributed his obstinacy in great measure to the “plaudits of the world’s stage,” which had turned his head. In his letters he also gives expression to a happy thought: the upheaval accomplished by the Wittenberg Professor was indeed a misfortune for his own age, but it might also be a remedy for the future. On November 20, 1522, he wrote to King Ferdinand: “God grant that this drastic and bitter remedy, which, in consequence of Luther’s apostasy, has stirred up all the world like a body that is sick in every part, may have a wholesome effect for the recovery of Christian morals.” Erasmus also set to work to compose practical booklets on religion and worship. A “Modus confitendi” he published in 1525 was frequently reprinted later; its aim was to restore to honour the Sacrament of Penance so maltreated by the innovators. At a later date he even composed a sort of Catechism, the “Explanatio symboli” (1533).
“In Luther I find to my surprise two different persons,” Erasmus wrote on March 13, 1526, to Bishop Michael of Langres. “One writes in such a way that he seems to breathe the apostolic spirit, the other makes use of such unbecoming invective as to appear to be altogether unmindful of it.” To another bishop, on September 1, 1528, he writes: “Whatever of good there may be in Luther’s teaching and exhortations we shall put in practice, not because it emanates from him, but because it is true and agrees with Holy Scripture.”
He continued to scourge the abuses in ecclesiastical life and to demand a reformation, but he did so in a fashion more measured and dignified than formerly, so that well-disposed Catholics for the most part agreed with him.
Owing to the new position he assumed, the Popes did not repel him, but showed him favour and confidence. They were desirous of retaining him and his enormous influence for the good of the Church. A Spanish theologian, who had written an “Antapologia” against Erasmus to reinforce the attack made upon him by Prince Carpi, tells us that Clement VII, after glancing through the work, said to him: “The Holy See has never set the seal of its approbation on the spirit of Erasmus and his writings, but it has spared him in order that he might not separate himself from the Church and embrace the cause of Lutheranism to the detriment of our interests.” According to one account, Paul III even wished to make him a cardinal; Erasmus, however, refused this dignity on account of his age.
Luther for his part was fond of saying, that he merely spoke out plainly what Erasmus in his timidity only ventured to hint at. He himself, he tells a correspondent, had led the believing Christians into the Promised Land, whereas Erasmus had conducted them only as far as the land of Moab. He recognised, however, the great difference between himself and Erasmus in their fundamental theological views, for instance, as to the condition of man stained by original sin, as to his free-will for doing what is good, his justification and pardon, on all of which the Humanist scholar held fast to the traditional teaching of the Church because, so Luther says, he could not, or would not, understand the Bible. Luther was well aware that, as time went on, Erasmus frequently protested that he had never had any intention of writing anything contrary to the revealed Word of God as taught by Holy Scripture and the common faith of Christendom; that he submitted himself to the decisions of the Popes, that he was ready to accept, as the Voice of God, what the authorities of the Church taught, even though he might not underst
and the reasons, and be personally inclined to embrace the opposite. His standpoint was accordingly miles removed from that of Luther with its unfettered freedom in religious matters.
In one of his Apologies Erasmus states of his earlier writings — in which, it is true he often goes too far — that “neither Lutherans nor anti-Lutherans could clearly show him to have called into question any single dogma of the Church”; though numbers had tried hard to do so, they had merely succeeded in “bringing forward affinities, congruities, grounds for scandal and suspicion, and not a few big fibs.” Concerning his tendency to scepticism he says nothing.
Of the excessive zeal of certain critics he says in the same passage: “Some theologians, in their hatred for Luther, condemn good and pious sayings which do not emanate from us at all, but from Christ and the Apostles. Thus, owing to their malice and stupidity, many remain in the party adverse to the Church who would otherwise have forsaken it, and many join it who would otherwise have kept aloof.” He himself was not to be drawn by invective to embrace Luther’s cause. He even ventures to affirm that he was the first, who, almost single-handed (“ipse primus omnium ac pene solus restiti pullulanti malo”), opposed Luther, and that he had proved a true prophet in predicting that the play which the world had greeted with such warm applause would have a sad termination. — He speaks more truly when he seriously regrets having fanned the flames by his writings. Thus, in 1521, he writes to Baron Mountjoy: “Had I known beforehand that things would shape themselves so, I would either have refrained from writing certain things, or have written them differently.”
Collected Works of Martin Luther Page 646