Son of William F. Buckley Jr. satirizes Reformation in ‘The Relic Master’

Home Culture Son of William F. Buckley Jr. satirizes Reformation in ‘The Relic Master’
Son of William F. Buckley Jr. satirizes Reformation in ‘The Relic Master’
Christopher Buckley’s “The Relic Master” satirizes the Reformation period. Simon&Schuster.com | Courtesy
Christopher Buckley’s “The Relic Master” satirizes the Reformation period. Simon&Schuster.com | Courtesy

When you have to sell the toes of saints for a living, you know something is rotten in the system.

At first, “The Relic Master,” a comedy about the exploits of a Reformation-era businessman, doesn’t sniff of political commentary. But journalist Christopher Buckley’s new novel, published in December 2015, uses a relic collector’s run-in with the Shroud of Turin to satirize the political corruption that led to the chaos of the Reformation ­­— corruption that still unsettles readers today.

The historical fiction novel is a departure for the political journalist who has focused largely on contemporary issues in “The White House Mess,” “Supreme Courtship,” and “Losing Mum and Pup: A Memoir,” Buckley’s self-conscious tribute to his father, National Review founder William F. Buckley Jr.

But Dismas, the novel’s main character, takes a modern approach to church corruption; a practical businessman from the start, he’s getting filthy rich by selling holy relics throughout pre-Reformation Europe.

At a relic fair in Basel, Dismas fleshes out the already bursting collections of his two patrons, the Archbishop of Mainz and Frederick of Saxony. These relics, especially the body parts of saints, are later displayed in churches to boost indulgence sales.

For Dismas and for church leaders in 1517, “Religion is a business just like any other.” Morals, scruples, and religious convictions have little to do with it.

So when Dismas’ friend Albrecht Durer, the narcissist and brilliant artist who painted Frederick and Luther, concocts a moneymaking scheme to duplicate the Shroud of Chambery (later known as the Shroud of Turin), the most envied relic in the world, Dismas is all for it.

Through a series of mishaps and drunken revelations, however, the scheme goes awry, and Dismas must make “penance” by stealing the true shroud.

It’s a messy plot that reads like the script of a sitcom, and Dismas’ comrades only complicate the situation. On top of saving his own life, the disgraced businessman must manage a motley crew that includes the moody Durer, a runaway beauty named Magda, and three meatheaded bodyguards.

Buckley’s breezy, often irreverent narrative tells history with attitude, conveying the spirit of a tumultuous age. Buckley caricatures historical figures with abandon, satirizing Archbishop of Mainz as a pompous careerist with a love for the royal “we,” painting Frederick of Saxony as a well-meaning, but rather dense teddy bear of an “uncle” to Dismas, and mocking the miraculous properties of relics in a scene where a church official wipes his makeup on the Shroud of Turin in an attempt to cure his skin condition.

Far from trivializing the revolutionary consequences of the Reformation, though, Buckley’s insouciant tone expresses moral questions in the voice of the common man, showing just how murky the moral ground can become as a result of political and religious corruption. Even Dismas and Durer, worldly as they are, question the doctrine of indulgences, watching Luther’s rise from afar.

Though Durer hesitantly sides with Luther in a chapter entitled “To Hell with Purgatory,” Buckley refuses to champion either side of the Reformation. The comedy of errors rolls on, and Dismas uses the doctrine of the Reformation to justify a heist that is just as shady as his trade in relics.

If worshipping relics is a sin, Dismas and Durer theorize, then the two are Reformation-era Robin Hoods, stealing the Shroud of Turin from the rich and giving truth to poor, misguided Christians. Right? After all, how heinous can crimes against a false relic really be? On the other hand, Dismas’ business sense conflicts with this selflessness: if the Reformation revolutionizes Europe and dethrones his patrons, Dismas’s relic business is in dire trouble.

But in Buckley’s historical adventure, these weighty questions are carried off in a whirlwind of action, entertainment, and irreverence.

Though the earthy tone may seem offensive at times, especially when chronicling the immorality of Dismas’ virile bodyguards, Buckley’s sometimes unflattering representation of historical figures may expose a tendency to create a “holy relic” of the Reformation movement.

Regardless of its appropriateness, Buckley’s comic voice is the core of the novel, and when he shifts his focus, the whole work falters. For example, after Dismas wins a fierce battle against rival thieves of the Shroud, both Buckley and Dismas seem unsure what to do next; Buckley seems unsure whether he should moralize or satirize Dismas’ victory.

However, when Buckley confidently cartoonized the Reformation period, his versatile, boyish, energetic voice presents historical fiction at its sauciest, mocking the buffoonery of hypocrisy from the eyes of the common man.

Though he may paint Reformation history with a bit of a wide brush, Buckley’s satire hits home when one realizes how deeply church corruption affected society in the Reformation. These moral undercurrents show that Buckley is thumbing his nose at more than the Reformation period itself. Amid his coarse language and irreverent rewriting of history, Buckley betrays his aims as a political journalist: “The Relic Master” shows Buckley’s fear that the corrupt practices of a diseased government can spread through an entire political body.

In a recent interview with CBS News, Buckley said, “American politics are self-satirizing. I don’t think they need me.” But by using history to alert readers to the scent of hypocrisy, “The Relic Master” shows just how much Americans depend on satirists like Buckley.