The Adages
Erasmus settled in Paris for a few months and published his first important work, the Adages. The book was a collection of 818 proverbs and quotations, mostly from classical writers. The revival of ancient learning had led people to adorn their opinions with short quotations from Greek or Roman writers, and this became a style whose heights we see in Montaigne's essays and Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy; it lasted into the eighteenth century in English parliamentary oratory. Erasmus wrote a short commentary on each proverb, usually alluding to current popular concerns and spiced with shrewd satire. For example, he wrote that "it is said in Scripture that priests devour the sins of the people, and find them so hard to digest that they must drink the best wines to dissolve them." The book was a great boon to writers and orators; it sold so well that Erasmus could live a year without anyone's help.
The archbishop, William Warham, who liked the book in spite of its stings and hints, sent the author a cash gift and offered him a church post in England; but Erasmus was not willing to give up the rest of Europe for England. Over the next eight years he reissued the Adages several times in revised form, raising the number of proverbs to 3,260. In his lifetime it went through sixty editions; it was translated from the Latin text into English, French, Italian, German and Dutch; and in short it was one of the "best sellers" of his age.
Pleas to Patrons
Even so, its income was small, and the food that reached Erasmus was not enough. In hope of getting some money he wrote to his friend James Batt, who was tutoring the son of the Lady of Veere (December 12, 1500), asking him to remind her how much more, with his learning, he served and gave fame to her than the other clergy she took under her wing. They preach ordinary sermons, he said, and I write things that last; their foolish nonsense is heard by no one outside one or two churches, while in all the countries of the world everyone who knows Greek and Latin reads my words. Such clergy are everywhere, while men like me are rare for centuries. Tell her all this, he said, unless you are so scrupulous that you will not tell a few convenient untruths for a friend.
When this brought no result, Erasmus wrote to Batt again in January and proposed that he tell the lady that his eyesight was failing, adding that Batt should send him four or five gold coins himself and then reimburse himself from what the lady gave. When Batt did not do so, Erasmus wrote directly to the Lady of Veere, ranked her with the heroines of history, and predicted eternal fame for her. With this last flattery the lady gave way. Erasmus received a handsome sum from her, and his eyesight recovered. The custom of the age excuses an author for holding out his hand in this way to his patrons, since publishers were not yet able to support even the most widely read writers. Erasmus could have had the best sources of income: benefices, bishoprics and, later, even a cardinal's hat. He refused such offers repeatedly because he wanted to be free and not to have chains put on his thought. He preferred to be free and beg rather than be bound to corruption.
Lucian and the Pilgrimage to Canterbury
In 1502 Erasmus fled the plague and went to Louvain. Adrian of Utrecht, head of the university there, offered him a professorship, but he declined. Returning to Paris, he resolved to earn his living by his pen. He translated Cicero's De Officiis, Euripides' Hecuba and the dialogues of Lucian. Without doubt this witty skeptic had a large effect on the training of Erasmus's mind and prose style. In 1504 Erasmus wrote to a friend: Good God, with what wit and speed Lucian strikes his blow; he mocks everything and lets nothing escape his pen without taking on the color of ridicule. His hardest attacks are aimed at philosophers and Stoics: the philosophers for their supernatural ideas and hypotheses, and the Stoics for their unbearable conceit. When he was called an atheist, he held up to ridicule, with the same boldness, the cynicism and superstition of the gods.
On his second visit to England (1505–1506) he went with Colet on a pilgrimage to the tomb of St. Thomas Becket at Canterbury. He gives an account of the trip, under fictional names, in one of his colloquies, and tells how "Gratia" (Colet) suggested that part of the wealth spent on adorning the church might better have been used to relieve the sufferings of Canterbury's poor, and so offended the monk who was guiding them; how the monk showed them milk said to have flowed from the Virgin's own breast; how he presented them with "an astonishing quantity of dead bones," all of which they were to kiss reverently; how Gratianus avoided kissing the old shoes said to have been worn by Becket; and how the guide, as the height of his kindness, offered Gratianus a holy relic, a cloth with which Becket had wiped his brow and blown his nose, still bearing traces of the saint's nasal mucus, at the sight of which Gratianus felt sick and grimaced. The two scholars returned to London weeping over humanity.
Italy, Aldus and Rome
There fortune smiled on Erasmus. The physician of Henry VII was sending his two sons to Italy, and Erasmus was appointed "guide and guardian" to accompany them. With the young men he stayed a year at Bologna, devouring the libraries, and day by day added to his fame for learning, mastery of Latin and wisdom. Until then he had worn the dress of an Augustinian canon, black robe, long surcoat and hood; now (1506) he took it off and put on the dress of an ordinary priest, which drew less attention, claiming that he had obtained permission for this from Pope Julius II, who was then at Bologna as a military conqueror. For reasons unknown to us, Erasmus returned to England in 1506 and taught Greek at Cambridge. But in 1508 we find him again in Italy, preparing a large revised edition of his Adages for the press of Aldus Manutius at Venice. From there he went to Rome (1509) and was enchanted by the cultured life, refined manners and intellectual growth of the cardinals.
The obvious effects of pagan subjects and rites at the center of the Christian world troubled him, as they had alarmed Luther the year before. What bothered Erasmus most was the conduct, zeal and military pursuits of Pope Julius II. On this he agreed with Luther; but he also agreed with the cardinals, who warmly welcomed the frequent absences of the warrior pope. They welcomed Erasmus into their gatherings and proposed that if he settled in Rome they would give him posts and offices from which he would draw income without performing any duties.
Henry VIII's Invitation
Just as love for this eternal city was taking root in his heart, Mountjoy wrote to him that Henry VII had died and a friend of the humanists, Henry VIII, had taken the throne, and that if Erasmus returned to England every door and advantage would be open to him. At the same time as Mountjoy's letter, a letter reached him from Henry VIII himself. Our acquaintance began, Henry wrote, when I was a child; the respect I felt for you in my heart then has grown through the mention you made of me in your writings and through the use you have made of your talents in advancing Christian truth. You have carried this heavy burden alone up to now, but now give me the honor of helping and supporting you as far as my power allows. Your welfare is precious to all of us. I therefore propose that you banish altogether from your mind the thought of staying elsewhere; come to England and be certain that you hold a place in our heart and eye. State your terms; they will be considered generous and honorable, as you wish. I remember that you once said that when you grew tired of wandering from door to door you would make this country the home of your old age. So in the name of all that is good and holy, I ask you to keep your promise. We now know the value of your virtues and counsel. We count your presence among us more precious than all our possessions. You want your leisure for yourself; we ask nothing of you except that you regard our realm as your home. So come to me, dear Erasmus, and let your presence be the answer to my invitation. (The letter is given in the book in abbreviated form, with omissions.)
How could so courteous and generous an invitation be refused? In Rome, even if he had been given a cardinal's hat, he would have had to hold his tongue. In England, among influential friends and under the protection of a powerful king, he could write more freely and be safe. With some reluctance he took leave of the humanists of Rome, the splendid palaces and libraries, and the cardinals who had shown him favor. He crossed the Alps again, went to Paris, and from there journeyed to England.