In no other works, with the exception of Moria, has Erasmus so spontaneously expressed his ideals of life than in the Colloquies. Even in the first purely formulary one, there is hardly a sentence without it’s point an expression of a vivid fancy. Drummond, accuses Erasmus in this work of making his biggest mistake “by letting his pen run away with him,” however Huizinga sees the writings as “witty clear vision of incidents.” In A Pilgrimage for Religion’s Sake, Erasmus clearly attacks the superstitious traditionalistic nature of the Catholic Church.
The sources for “A Pilgrimage . . .” was two pilgrimages that Erasmus and a friend made to two shrines of Our Lady of Norfolk and St. Thomas á Becket of Canterbury. Erasmus was disgusted by the fraudulent relics – the milk of our lady and the familiar wood of the true cross- (enough in Europe to build a ship) and the wealth that built up on these shrines which could have been put to better use.
These experiences were embodied in A Pilgrimage for Religion’s Sake where Erasmus “A Pilgrimage” is a dialogue between two friends, Menedemus and Ogygius. They have met after Ogygius's pilgrimage to the shrines of St. James of Compostella, Our Lady of Walsingham, and St. Thomas of Canterbury. This dialogue provides Erasmus with the opportunity to satirize the long tradition of pilgrimages, saint-worship, and veneration of relics.
A Pilgrimage for Religion's Sake is the tale of Ogygius's journeys to holy shrines and storehouses of relics as told to Menedemus.
At the third shrine, Ogygius examines relics with another friend, Pullus. Pullus was modeled on John Colet, an English bishop who, while loyal to Catholicism, was known for his criticism of the English church, particularly its clergy. Colet actually accompanied Erasmus himself on pilgrimage and some of what Ogygius recounts can be seen as first-hand testimony. Pullus is a humorous and likeable character. He turned his nose up at various holy relics, such as a rag covered with sweat, mucus, and other body fluids of a saint, rather than honoring them with bowing prayers or kisses. Upon viewing the treasures of gold and jewels in the shrine, Pullus asked a custodian if it would be
acceptable, since the patron saint of this shrine was very charitable, for a "penniless" woman to take some of the treasure to help feed her children. The custodian, of course, is offended and didn't reply to the outrageous question (Thompson, 84-87).
While all three characters share some of Erasmus’s ideas, Ogygius functions most clearly as a mediating and a reformed figure. At first, he appears to be a credulous worshiper. But almost despite himself, he becomes a subtle critic of the abuses of pilgrimages, relics, devotional art and decoration. The reader is implicitly encouraged to follow his lead. The two friends first discuss Ogygius’s visit to St. James of Compostella. Ogygius has
Returned wearing a weight of religious souvenirs the “straw necklaces” and “snake eggs.” The exchange, we can see that Ogygius’s clownish figure represents the lengths to which some pilgrims go. This is the initial theme. Then Menedemus poses ironic questions to his friend, and they have an absurd discussion about the saint’s health and the decline in devotions to him, as if James were an attraction at a seedy amusement park.
Ogygius tells Menedemus that Walsingham has a Mary chapel “so dazzling… with jewels, gold and silver” that its main church is sadly neglected (292). He explains that as “the cult spreads more widely, different things are displayed in different places.” Menedemus adds, “In order, perhaps, that the giving may be more generous”. Whether donations are given out of fear or a genuine desire to aid others is not explicitly stated. Instead, Ogygius tells his friend that a number of pilgrims see the riches of Mary’s chapel as goods to be plundered. Here, Erasmus draws a sly parallel between Walsingham’s two worship spaces and those who visit them. The chapel is bejewelled and the central worship space is bare; pilgrims bestow gifts and thieves nab them. Erasmus through this highlights the commodification of religion.
Erasmus introduces a third character whose fury is more pointed. Ogygius next tells Menedemus about the experience he had at the shrine of St. Thomas of Canterbury with his friend Pullus. At Canterbury, Pullus rages against the commodification of relics. Pullus, modeled on John Colet,[10] is a “learned and upright man,” who is shown a supposed relic of St. Thomas’s bloody arm. He looks at the arm “with the bloodstained flesh still on it… [and shrinks] from kissing this, looking rather disgusted” (305). Since he has gone on pilgrimage, no doubt Pullus has some affinity for traditional piety. Still, he despises this morbid display. He even asks one of the monks if St. Thomas wouldn’t be happier if the riches displayed at his shrine were given to the poor (307). Ogygius, calling his friend “impulsive” and “one who liked to joke,” agrees with the gist of his words but advises moderation. He takes his own advice, too, avoiding conflict by handing the monk some money (ibid). But Menedemus agrees with Pullus and wonders how to justify any relics or, indeed, church decoration, “when meanwhile our brothers and sisters, Christ’s living temples, waste away from hunger and thirst” (307).
From the extracts it seems clear what Erasmus was trying to communicate was a call for the changing of the "ridiculous" into the "rational". However, Erasmus himself always tried to represent the Colloquies, in which he had spontaneously revealed so much of his inner convictions as mere trifling committed to paper t please his friends, “They are only meant to teach correct Latin! And if anything is said in them touching matters of faith, it is not I who say it, is it?” This utter ambiguity is amazing considering the complex and masterful nature of the Colloquies. According to Huizinga “there is contrast in Erasmus’ being. He is precipitate and careless, he wants to be careful and cautious; his mind drives him to be the first, his nature restrains him, but usually only after the word has been written or published.” Possibly this denial was a result of this “restrain”, or moreover a regret for what his criticisms meant for the unity of Christendom.
Erasmus never realised how much his criticisms of the time shook the very foundations of the Church. I would argue that Erasmus’ arguments for reform within the Church represented the middle road not taken. Though Erasmus may have influenced late-medieval theologians to focus more on Scripture and less on the material aspects of piety,[20] his satirical treatment of the abuses of the Church was less pointed—and less effective—than Luther’s exhortations on the grace of Christ as the only means to salvation. However Erasmus never wanted the Reformation, he prescribed reform, but the healing should come from within and not by creating a new order.
Erasmus pokes at relic idolatry and ostentation through this audacious and untraditional character, lightly revealing error to correct the focus of worshippers. Whether or not Erasmus’ satirical criticisms were his own views or not is debatable. However what is certain, is these criticisms supplied the Reformers with a huge arsenal for debasing the Catholic Church which they owe Erasmus an incalculable debt.
The purpose of the works of Erasmus appears on the surface to intend to criticize and poke fun of people such as clergymen and scholars. However, he wanted to humiliate them into changing the "ridiculous" into the "rational" (Rabil, 76). He wanted to return to original Christianity, like the "primitive Church," and be free from "formalism and superstition." But he never intended to divide the Church; he always hoped for a "compromise." Erasmus never chose a side in the holy debate. He would have never dreamed of leaving the Body of Christ, for it could not be abandoned in its pitifully weak state. He prescribed reform, but the healing should come from within and not by creating a new order
(Thompson, xvi). His criticisms especially those in “A Pilgrimage . . .” sup
.
Two interesting aspects are found in this pilgrimage account. The first is a letter from a staute of Mary. In it, she says she is tired of "the shameless entreaties of mortals." Mary thanks Glaucoplutus, a "follower of Luther, for busily persuading people that the invocation of the saints is useless." She wonders why people ask things of her alone, as if Jesus was still an infant in her arms and incapable of doing anything apart from his mother. Mary then laments the prayer requests she has to hear: from the gambler who asks for luck and promises to share what he wins, from the soldier who requests the ability to slaughter ruthlessly in battle, and many others. She then continues that they "curse" her, because she wouldn't "favor their wickedness," and declare that she isn't a "mother of mercy" after all (Thompson, 56-62). Tones in this are very similar to those in The Shipwreck, as
Erasmus again satirizes vain prayers to saints, mocking them in hopes of people seeing the truth and reforming their prayers. prayers.