THE OXFORD REFORMERS:
JOHN COLET, ERASMUS, AND THOMAS MORE.

THE

OXFORD REFORMERS

JOHN COLET, ERASMUS, AND THOMAS MORE.

BEING A HISTORY OF THEIR FELLOW-WORK.

BY
FREDERIC SEEBOHM.

REPRINTED FROM THE THIRD EDITION.

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
LONDON, NEW YORK, AND BOMBAY.
1896.

All rights reserved.

PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.

Since this book was written, years ago, the works of Dean Colet have one after another been placed within reach of the public, ably edited by my friend Mr. Lupton, and now I understand that a biography by the same competent hand is also in the press.

Under these circumstances I have had some hesitation in allowing a Third Edition to be printed. I have yielded, however, to Mr. Lupton’s pleading that this history of the fellow-work of the three friends, imperfect as it always was, and antiquated as it has now become, may live a little longer.

F. S.

The Hermitage, Hitchin: March 8, 1887.

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.

Two circumstances have enabled me to make this Second Edition more complete, and I trust more correct, than its predecessor.

First: the remarkable discovery by Mr. W. Aldis Wright, on the blank leaves of a MS. in the library of Trinity College, Cambridge, of an apparently contemporary family register recording, inter alia, the date of the marriage of Sir Thomas More’s parents, and of the birth of Sir Thomas More himself (see Appendix C), has given the clue, so long sought for in vain, to the chronology of More’s early life. It has also made it needful to alter slightly the title of this work.

Secondly: the interesting MSS. of Colet’s, on the ‘Hierarchies of Dionysius,’ found by Mr. Lupton in the library of St. Paul’s School, and recently published by him with a translation and valuable introduction,[1] have supplied a missing link in the chain of Colet’s mental history, which has thrown much fresh light, as well upon his connection with the Neo-Platonists of Florence, as upon the position already taken by him at Oxford, before the arrival of Erasmus.

The greater part of the First Edition was already in the hands of the public, when I became aware of the importance of this newly discovered information; but, in October last, I withdrew the remaining copies from sale, as it seemed to me that it would hardly be fair, under the circumstances, to allow them to pass out of my hands. They have since been destroyed.

In publishing this revised and enlarged edition, I wish especially to tender my thanks to Mr. Lupton for his invaluable assistance in its revision, and for the free use he has throughout allowed me to make of the results of his own researches.

I have also to thank the Librarian of Emmanuel College, Cambridge, for the loan of a beautiful copy of Colet’s MS. on ‘I. Corinthians;’ and Mr. Bradshaw, for kindly obtaining for me a transcript of the MS. on ‘Romans’ in the University Library.

At Mr. Bradshaw’s suggestion I have added, in the Appendix, a catalogue of the early editions of the works of Erasmus in my collection. It will at least serve as evidence of the wide circulation obtained by these works during the lifetime of their author.

Hitchin: May 10, 1869.

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.

Some portions of this History were published in a somewhat condensed form in the course of last year in the ‘Fortnightly Review,’ and I have to thank the Editor for the permission to withdraw further portions, although already in type, in order that the publication of this volume might not be delayed.[2]

Having regard to the extreme inaccuracy of the dates of the letters of Erasmus,[3] the conflicting nature of the evidence relating to the chronology of More’s early life,[4] and the scantiness of the materials for anything like a continuous biography of Colet, I should have undertaken a difficult task had I attempted in this volume, even so far as it goes, to give anything approaching to an exhaustive biography of Colet, Erasmus, and More. But my object has not been to write the biography of any one of them. I have rather endeavoured to trace their joint-history and to point out the character of their fellow-work. And with regard to the latter the evidence is so full, so various, and so consistent as to leave, I think, little room for misapprehension, either as to whether their work was indeed fellow-work, or as to the general spirit and scope of the work itself.

I gladly take this opportunity of tendering my best thanks to those who have aided me in this undertaking.

My warmest thanks are due to the Rev. J. S. Brewer, M.A., as well for the invaluable aid afforded by his Calendars of the Letters, &c. of Henry VIII., and for the loan of the proof-sheets of the forthcoming volume, as for the revision of the greater part of my translations; also to Mr. Gairdner for his ever ready assistance at the Public Record Office; to Dr. Edward Boehmer, of the University of Halle, for his aid in the collection of many of the early editions of works of Erasmus quoted in this volume; to the Senate and the late Librarian of the Cambridge University Library for the loan of the volume of MSS. marked Gg. 4, 26; and to Mr. Henry Bradshaw, of King’s College, Cambridge, for much valuable assistance, most courteously rendered, in the examination of this and other manuscripts at Cambridge. I have also to thank the Rev. J. H. Lupton, of St. Paul’s School, for the description given in Appendix C.[5] of a manuscript of Colet’s in the Library of St. Paul’s School which I had overlooked, and which I am happy to find is likely soon to be printed by him.

In conclusion, I cannot refrain from adding a tribute of affectionate regard for the memory of two of my friends—the late Mr. William Tanner of Bristol, and the late Mr. B. B. Wiffen of Woburn—of whose interest in the progress of this work I have received many proofs, and of whose kindly criticism I have gratefully availed myself.

Hitchin: March 30, 1867.

CONTENTS.

THE OXFORD REFORMERS:
COLET, ERASMUS, AND MORE.

CHAPTER I.

It was probably in Michaelmas Term of 1496[6] that the announcement was made to doctors and students of the University of Oxford that John Colet, a late student, recently returned from Italy, was about to deliver a course of public and gratuitous lectures in exposition of St. Paul’s Epistles.

This was an event of no small significance and perhaps of novelty in the closing years of that last of the Middle Ages; not only because the Scriptures for some generations had been practically ignored at the Universities, but still more so because the would-be lecturer had not as yet entered deacon’s orders,[7] nor had obtained, or even tried to obtain, any theological degree.[8] It is true that he had passed through the regular academical course at Oxford, and was entitled, as a Master of Arts, to lecture upon any other subject.[9] But a degree in Arts did not, it would seem, entitle the graduate to lecture upon the Bible.[10]

It does not perhaps follow from this, that Colet was guilty of any flagrant breach of university statutes, which, as a graduate in Arts, he must have sworn to obey. The very extent to which real study of the Scriptures had become obsolete at Oxford, may possibly suggest that even the statutory restrictions on Scripture lectures may have become obsolete also.[11]

Before the days of Wiclif, the Bible had been free, and Bishop Grosseteste could urge Oxford students to devote their best morning hours to Scripture lectures.[12] But an unsuccessful revolution ends in tightening the chains which it ought to have broken. During the fifteenth century the Bible was not free. And Scripture lectures, though still retaining a nominal place in the academical course of theological study, were thrown into the background by the much greater relative importance of the lectures on ‘the Sentences.’ What Biblical lectures were given were probably of a very formal character.[13]

The announcement by Colet of this course of lectures on St. Paul’s Epistles was in truth, so far as can be traced, the first overt act in a movement commenced at Oxford in the direction of practical Christian reform—a movement, some of the results of which, had they been gifted with prescience, might well have filled the minds of the Oxford doctors with dismay.

They could not indeed foresee that those very books of ‘the Sentences,’ over which they had pored so intently for so many years, in order to obtain the degree of Master in Theology, and at which students were still patiently toiling with the same object in view—they could not foresee that, within forty years, these very books would ‘be utterly banished from Oxford,’ ignominiously ‘nailed up upon posts’ as waste paper, their loose leaves strewn about the quadrangles until some sportsman should gather them up and thread them on a line to keep the deer within the neighbouring woods.[14] They could not, indeed, foresee the end of the movement then only beginning, but still, the announcement of Colet’s lectures was likely to cause them some uneasiness. They may well have asked, whether, if the exposition of the Scriptures were to be really revived at Oxford, so dangerous a duty should not be restricted to those duly authorised to discharge it? Was every stripling who might travel as far as Italy and return infected with the ‘new learning’ to be allowed to set up himself as a theological teacher, without graduating in divinity, and without waiting for decency’s sake for the bishop’s ordination?

On the other hand, any Oxford graduate choosing to adopt so irregular a course, must have been perfectly aware that it would be one likely to stir up opposition, and even ill-will,[15] amongst the older divines; and it maybe presumed that he hardly would have ventured upon such a step without knowing that there were at the university others ready to support him.

II. THE RISE OF THE NEW LEARNING (1453-92).

In all ages, more or less, there is a new school of thought rising up under the eyes of an older school of thought. And probably in all ages the men of the old school regard with some little anxiety the ways of the men of the new school. Never is it more likely to be so than at an epoch of sharp transition, like that on which the lot of these Oxford doctors had been cast.

We sometimes speak as though our age were par excellence the age of progress. Theirs was much more so if we duly consider it. The youth and manhood of some of them had been spent in days which may well have seemed to be the latter days of Christendom. They had seen Constantinople taken by the Turks. The final conquest of Christendom by the infidel was a possibility which had haunted all their visions of the future. Were not Christian nations driven up into the north-western extremity of the known world, a wide pathless ocean lying beyond? Had not the warlike creed of Mahomet steadily encroached upon Christendom, century by century, stripping her first of her African churches, from thence fighting its way northward into Spain? Had it not maintained its foothold in Spain’s fairest provinces for seven hundred years? And from the East was it not steadily creeping over Europe, nearer and nearer to Venice and Rome, in spite of all that crusades could do to stop its progress? If, though little more than half the age of Christianity, it had already, as they reckoned it had, drawn into its communion five times[16] as many votaries as there were Christians left, was it a groundless fear that now in these latter days it might devour the remaining sixth? What could hinder it?

A Spartan resistance on the part of united Christendom perhaps might. But Christendom was not united, nor capable of Spartan discipline. Her internal condition seemed to show signs almost of approaching dissolution. The shadow of the great Papal schism still brooded over the destinies of the Church. That schism had been ended only by a revolution which, under the guidance of Gerson, had left the Pope the constitutional instead of the absolute monarch of the Church. The great heresies of the preceding century had, moreover, not yet been extinguished. The very names of Wiclif and Huss were still names of terror. Lollardy had been crushed, but it was not dead. Everywhere the embers of schism and revolution were still smouldering underneath, ready to break out again, in new fury, who could tell how soon?

It was in the ears of this apparently doomed generation that the double tidings came of the discovery of the Terra Nova in the West, and of the expulsion of the infidel out of Spain.

The ice of centuries suddenly was broken. The universal despondency at once gave way before a spirit of enterprise and hope; and it has been well observed, men began to congratulate each other that their lot had been cast upon an age in which such wonders were achieved.

Even the men of the old school could appreciate these facts in a fashion. The defeat of the Moors was to them a victory to the Church. The discovery of the New World extended her dominion. They gloried over both.

But these outward facts were but the index to an internal upheaving of the mind of Christendom, to which they were blind. The men who were guiding the great external revolution—reformers in their way—were blindly stamping out the first symptoms of this silent upheaving. Gerson, while carrying reform over the heads of Popes, and deposing them to end the schism or to preserve the unity of the Church, was at the same moment using all his influence to crush Huss and Jerome of Prague. Queen Isabella and Ximenes, Henry VII. and Morton, while sufficiently enlightened to pursue maritime discovery, to reform after a fashion the monasteries under their rule, and ready even to combine to reform the morals of the Pope himself in order to avert the dreaded recurrence of a schism,[17] were not eager to pursue these purposes without the sanction of Papal bulls, and without showing their zeal for the Papacy by crushing out free thought with an iron heel and zealously persecuting heretics, whether their faith were that of the Moor, the Lollard, or the Jew.