History of the Catholic Church from the Renaissance to the French

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HISTORY OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH
FROM THE RENAISSANCE TO THE FRENCH REVOLUTION

VOLUME I

BY

Rev. JAMES MacCAFFREY
Lic. Theol. (Maynooth), Ph.D. (Freiburg i. B.)
Professor of Ecclesiastical History, St. Patrick's College, Maynooth

Nihil Obstat:
Thomas O'Donnell, C.M.
Censor Theol. Deput.

Imprimi Potest:
Guilielmus,
Archiep. Dublinen.,
Hiberniae Primas.

Dublini, 16 Decembris, 1914.

PREFACE

The fifteenth century may be regarded as a period of transition from
the ideals of the Middle Ages to those of modern times. The world was
fast becoming more secular in its tendencies, and, as a necessary
result, theories and principles that had met till then with almost
universal acceptance in literature, in art, in education, and in
government, were challenged by many as untenable.

Scholasticism, which had monopolised the attention of both schools and
scholars since the days of St. Anselm and Abelard, was called upon to
defend its claims against the advocates of classical culture; the
theocratico-imperial conception of Christian society as expounded by
the canonists and lawyers of an earlier period was forced into the
background by the appearance of nationalism and individualism, which
by this time had become factors to be reckoned with by the
ecclesiastical and civil rulers; the Feudal System, which had received
a mortal blow by the intermingling of the classes and the masses in
the era of the Crusades, was threatened, from above, by the movement
towards centralisation and absolutism, and from below, by the growing
discontent of the peasantry and artisans, who had begun to realise,
but as yet only in a vague way, their own strength. In every
department the battle for supremacy was being waged between the old
and the new, and the printing-press was at hand to enable the patrons
of both to mould the thoughts and opinions of the Christian world.

It was, therefore, an age of unrest and of great intellectual
activity, and at all such times the claims of the Church as the
guardian and expounder of Divine Revelation are sure to be questioned.
Not that the Church has need to fear inquiry, or that the claims of
faith and reason are incompatible, but because some daring spirits are
always to be reckoned with, who, by mistaking hypotheses for facts,
succeed in convincing themselves and their followers that those in
authority are unprogressive, and as such, to be despised.

This was particularly true of some of the Humanists. At first sight,
indeed, it is difficult to understand why the revival of classical
learning should lead to the danger of the rejection of Christian
Revelation, seeing that the appreciation of the great literary
products of Greece and Rome, and that, even in the days of the
Renaissance, the Popes and the bishops were reckoned amongst the most
generous patrons of the classical movement. Yet the violence of
extreme partisans on both sides rendered a conflict almost
unavoidable.

On the one hand, many of the classical enthusiasts, not content with
winning for their favourite studies a most important place on the
programmes of the schools, were determined to force on the Christian
body the ideals, the culture, and the outlook on the world, which
found their best expression in the masterpieces of pagan literature;
while, on the other, not a few of the champions of Scholastic
Philosophy seemed to have convinced themselves that Scholasticism and
Christianity were identified so closely that rejection or criticism of
the former must imply disloyalty to the latter. The Humanists mocked
at the Scholastics and dubbed them obscurantists on account of their
barbarous Latinity, their uncritical methods, and their pointless
wranglings; the Scholastics retorted by denouncing their opponents as
pagans, or, at least, heretics. In this way the claims of religion
were drawn into the arena, and, as neither the extreme Scholastics nor
the extreme Humanists had learned to distinguish between dogmas and
systems, between what was essential and what was tentative, there was
grave danger that religion would suffer in the eyes of educated men on
account of the crude methods of those who claimed to be its authorised
exponents.

Undoubtedly, at such a period of unrest, the Church could hardly
expect to escape attack. Never since the days when she was called upon
to defend her position against the combined forces of the Pagan world
had she been confronted with such a serious crisis, and seldom, if
ever, was she so badly prepared to withstand the onslaughts of her
enemies. The residence at Avignon, the Great Western Schism, and the
conciliar theories to which the Schism gave rise, had weakened the
power of the Papacy at the very time when the bonds of religious unity
were being strained almost to the snapping point by the growth of
national jealousy. Partly owing to the general downward tendency of
the age, but mainly on account of the interference of the secular
authorities with ecclesiastical appointments, the gravest abuses had
manifested themselves in nearly every department of clerical life, and
the cry for reform rose unbidden to the lips of thousands who
entertained no thought of revolution. But the distinction between the
divine and the human element in the Church was not appreciated by all,
with the result that a great body of Christians, disgusted with the
unworthiness of some of their pastors, were quite ready to rise in
revolt whenever a leader should appear to sound the trumpet-call of
war.

Nor had they long to wait till a man arose, in Germany, to marshal the
forces of discontent and to lead them against the Church of Rome.
Though in his personal conduct Luther fell far short of what people
might reasonably look for in a self-constituted reformer, yet in many
respects he had exceptional qualifications for the part that he was
called upon to play. Endowed with great physical strength, gifted with
a marvellous memory and a complete mastery of the German language, as
inspiring in the pulpit or on the platform as he was with his pen,
regardless of nice limitations or even of truth when he wished to
strike down an opponent or to arouse the enthusiasm of a mob, equally
at home with princes in the drawing-room as with peasants in a tavern
--Luther was an ideal demagogue to head a semi-religious, semi-social
revolt. He had a keen appreciation of the tendencies of the age, and
of the thoughts that were coursing through men's minds, and he had
sufficient powers of organisation to know how to direct the different
forces at work into the same channel. Though fundamentally the issue
raised by him was a religious one, yet it is remarkable what a small
part religion played in deciding the result of the struggle. The
world-wide jealousy of the House of Habsburg, the danger of a Turkish
invasion, the long-drawn-out struggle between France and the Empire
for supremacy in Europe and for the provinces on the left bank of the
Rhine, and the selfish policy of the German princes, contributed much
more to his success than the question of justification or the
principle of private judgment. Without doubt, in Germany, in
Switzerland, in England, in the Netherlands, and in the Scandinavian
countries, the Reformation was much more a political than a religious
movement.

The fundamental principle of the new religion was the principle of
private judgment, and yet such a principle found no place in the
issues raised by Luther in the beginning. It was only when he was
confronted with the decrees of previous councils, with the tradition
of the Church as contained in the writings of the Fathers, and with
the authoritative pronouncements of the Holy See, all of which were in
direct contradiction to his theories, that he felt himself obliged,
reluctantly, to abandon the principle of authority in favour of the
principle of private judgment. In truth it was the only possible way
in which he could hope to defend his novelties, and besides, it had
the additional advantage of catering for the rising spirit of
individualism, which was so characteristic of the age.

His second great innovation, so far as the divine constitution of the
Church was concerned, and the one which secured ultimately whatever
degree of success his revolution attained, was the theory of royal
supremacy, or the recognition of the temporal ruler as the source of
spiritual jurisdiction. But even this was more or less of an after-
thought. Keen student of contemporary politics that Luther was, he
perceived two great influences at work, one, patronised by the
sovereigns in favour of absolute rule, the other, supported by the
masses in favour of unrestricted liberty. He realised from the
beginning that it was only by combining his religious programme with
one or other of these two movements that he could have any hope of
success. At first, impressed by the strength of the popular party as
manifested in the net-work of secret societies then spread throughout
Germany, and by the revolutionary attitude of the landless nobles, who
were prepared to lead the peasants, he determined to raise the cry of
civil and religious liberty, and to rouse the masses against the
princes and kings, as well as against their bishops and the Pope. But
soon the success of the German princes in the Peasants' War made it
clear to him that an alliance between the religious and the social
revolution was fraught with dangerous consequences; and, at once, he
went to the other extreme.

The gradual weakening of the Feudal System, which acted as a check
upon the authority of the rulers, and the awakening of the national
consciousness, prepared the way for the policy of centralisation.
France, which consisted formerly of a collection of almost independent
provinces, was welded together into one united kingdom; a similar
change took place in Spain after the union of Castile and Aragon and
the fall of the Moorish power at Granada. In England the disappearance
of the nobles in the Wars of the Roses led to the establishment of the
Tudor domination. As a result of this centralisation the Kings of
France, Spain, and England, and the sovereign princes of Germany
received a great increase of power, and resolved to make themselves
absolute masters in their own dominions.

Having abandoned the unfortunate peasants who had been led to
slaughter by his writings, Luther determined to make it clear that his
religious policy was in complete harmony with the political absolutism
aimed at by the temporal rulers. With this object in view he put
forward the principle of royal supremacy, according to which the king
or prince was to be recognised as the head of the church in his own
territories, and the source of all spiritual jurisdiction. By doing so
he achieved two very important results. He had at hand in the
machinery of civil government the nucleus of a new ecclesiastical
organisation, the shaping of which had been his greatest worry; and,
besides, he won for his new movement the sympathy and active support
of the civil rulers, to whom the thought of becoming complete masters
of ecclesiastical patronage and of the wealth of the Church opened up
the most rosy prospects. In Germany, in England, and in the northern
countries of Europe, it was the principle of royal supremacy that
turned the scales eventually in favour of the new religion, while, at
the same time, it led to the establishment of absolutism both in
theory and practice. From the recognition of the sovereign as supreme
master both in Church and State the theory of the divine rights of
kings as understood in modern times followed as a necessary corollary.
There was no longer any possibility of suggesting limitations or of
countenancing rebellion. The king, in his own territories, had
succeeded to all the rights and privileges which, according to the
divine constitution of the Church, belonged to the Pope.

Such a development in the Protestant countries could not fail to
produce its effects even on Catholic rulers who had remained loyal to
the Church. They began to aim at combining, as far as possible, the
Protestant theory of ecclesiastical government with obedience to the
Pope, by taking into their own hands the administration of
ecclesiastical affairs, by making the bishops and clergy state-
officials, and by leaving to the Pope only a primacy of honour. This
policy, known under the different names of Gallicanism in France, and
of Febronianism and Josephism in the Empire, led of necessity to
conflicts between Rome and the Catholic sovereigns of Europe,
conflicts in which, unfortunately, many of the bishops, influenced by
mistaken notions of loyalty and patriotism, took the side of their own
sovereigns. As a result, absolute rule was established throughout
Europe; the rights of the people to any voice in government were
trampled upon, and the rules became more despotic than the old Roman
Emperors had been even in their two-fold capacity of civil ruler and
high priest.

Meanwhile, the principle of private judgment had produced its logical
effects. Many of Luther's followers, even in his own lifetime, had
been induced to reject doctrines accepted by their master, but, after
his death, when the influence of Tradition and of authority had become
weaker, Lutheranism was reduced to a dogmatic chaos. By the
application of the principle of private judgment, certain leaders
began to call in question, not merely individual doctrines, but even
the very foundations of Christianity, and, in a short time, Atheism
and Naturalism were recognised as the hall-mark of education and good
breeding.

The civil rulers even in Catholic countries took no very active steps
to curb the activity of the anti-Christian writers and philosophers,
partly because they themselves were not unaffected by the spirit of
irreligion, and partly also because they were not sorry to see popular
resentment diverted from their own excesses by being directed against
the Church. But, in a short time, they realised, when it was too late,
that the overthrow of religious authority carries with it as a rule
the overthrow of civil authority also, and that the attempt to combine
the two principles of private judgment and of royal supremacy must
lead of necessity to revolution.

* * * * *

I wish to express my sincere thanks to the many friends who have
assisted me, and particularly to the Very Rev. Thomas O'Donnell, C.M.,
President, All Hallows College. My special thanks are due also to the
Rev. Patrick O'Neill (Limerick), who relieved me of much anxiety by
undertaking the difficult task of compiling the Index.

James MacCaffrey.

St. Patrick's College, Maynooth,
Feast of the Immaculate Conception.

HISTORY OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH

From the Renaissance to the
French Revolution

CHAPTER I

CAUSES OF THE REFORMATION

(a) The Renaissance.

Baudrillart, /The Catholic Church, The Renaissance, and
Protestantism (Tr.)/, 1908 (chap. i.-iii.). Guirard, /L'Eglise et
les Origines de la Renaissance/, 1902. Burckhardt, /Die Cultur der
Renaissance in Italien/, 11 auf., 1913 (Eng. Trans. by Middlemore,
1878). A Baumgartner, S.J., /Geschichte der Weltiteratur/, vol.
iv., 1900. /The Cambridge Modern History/, vol. i. (/The
Renaissance/, 1902). Stone, /The Reformation and Renaissance/,
1904. Janssen, /Geschichte des deutschen Volkes/, 1887 (Eng.
Trans. by Mitchell and Christie, London, 1896 sqq.). Pastor,
/Geschichte der Papste im Zeitalter der Renaissance/, Freiburg,
1886 sqq. (Eng. Trans. by Antrobus, London, 1891 sqq.). Muntz, /La
Renaissance en Italie et en France a l'epoque de Charles VIII./,
1885. Gasquet, /The Eve of the Reformation/. Mourret, /La
Renaissance et la Reforme/, 1912.

The great intellectual revival, that followed upon the successful
issue of the struggle for freedom waged by Gregory VII. and his
successors, reached the zenith of its glory in the thirteenth century.
Scholasticism, as expounded by men like Alexander of Hales, Albert the
Great, Roger Bacon, St. Bonaventure, and St. Thomas, and illustrated
by a wealth of material drawn alike from the Scriptures, the writings
of the Fathers, the wisdom of Pagan philosophers, and the conclusions
of natural science, was alone deemed worthy of serious attention.
Classical studies either were neglected entirely even in the centres
of learning, or were followed merely for the assistance they might
render in the solution of the philosophical and theological problems,
that engaged men's minds in an age when Christian faith reigned
supreme.

The Catholic Church, indeed, had never been hostile to classical
studies, nor unmindful of their value, as a means of developing the
powers of the human mind, and of securing both breadth of view and
beauty of expression. Some few teachers here and there, alarmed by the
danger of corrupting Christian youth by bringing it into contact with
Pagan ideals, raised their voices in protest, but the majority of the
early Fathers disregarded these warnings as harmful and unnecessary.
Origen, St. Clement of Alexandria, St. Gregory of Nazianzen, St.
Basil, and St. Jerome, while not ignoring the dangers of such studies,
recommended them warmly to their students, and in the spirit of these
great leaders the Catholic Church strove always to combine classical
culture and Christian education.

With the fall of the Empire, consequent upon its invasion by the
barbarian hordes, classical studies were banished to some extent to
the Western Isles, Ireland and Britain, from which they were
transplanted to the Continent principally during the Carlovingian
revival.[1] In the cathedral, collegiate, and monastic schools the
classics were still cultivated, though beyond doubt compilations were
used more frequently than were the original works; and even in the
darkest days of the dark ages some prominent ecclesiastics could be
found well versed at least in the language and literature of Rome. It
looked, too, for a time, as if the intellectual revival of the twelfth
century were to be turned towards the classics; but the example of men
like John of Salisbury was not followed generally, and the movement
developed rapidly in the direction of philosophy. As a consequence,
the study of Latin was neglected or relegated to a secondary place in
the schools, while Greek scholarship disappeared practically from
Western Europe. The Scholastics, more anxious about the logical
sequence of their arguments than about the beauties of literary
expression, invented for themselves a new dialect, which, however
forcible in itself, must have sounded barbarous to any one acquainted
with the productions of the golden age of Roman literature or even
with the writings of the early Fathers of the Latin Church. Nor was it
the language merely that was neglected. The monuments and memorials of
an earlier civilisation were disregarded, and even in Rome itself, the
City of the Popes, the vandalism of the ignorant wrought dreadful
havoc.

So complete a turning away from forces that had played such a part in
the civilisation of the world was certain to provoke a reaction.
Scholasticism could not hold the field for ever to the exclusion of
other branches of study, especially, since in the less competent hands
of its later expounders it had degenerated into an empty formalism.
The successors of St. Thomas and St. Bonaventure had little of their
originality, their almost universal knowledge, and their powers of
exposition, and, as a result, students grew tired of the endless
wranglings of the schools, and turned their attention to other
intellectual pursuits.

Besides, men's ideas of politics, of social order, and of religion
were changing rapidly, and, in a word, the whole outlook of the world
was undergoing a speedy transformation. In the Middle Ages religion
held the dominant position and was the guiding principle in morals, in
education, in literature, and in art; but as the faith of many began
to grow cold, and as the rights of Church and State began to be
distinguished, secularist tendencies soon made themselves felt.
Philosophy and theology were no longer to occupy the entire
intellectual field, and other subjects for investigation must be
found. In these circumstances what was more natural than that some
should advocate a return to the classics and all that the classics
enshrined? Again, the example set by the tyrants who had grasped the
reins of power in the Italian States, by men like Agnello of Pisa, the
Viscontis and Francesco Sforza of Milan, Ferrante of Naples, and the
de' Medici of Florence, was calculated to lower the moral standard of
the period, and to promote an abandonment of Christian principles of
truth, and justice, and purity of life. Everywhere men became more
addicted to the pursuit of sensual pleasure, of vain glory, and
material comfort; and could ill brook the dominant ideas of the Middle
Ages concerning the supernatural end of man, self-denial, humility,
patience, and contempt for the things that minister only to man's
temporal happiness. With views of this kind in the air it was not
difficult to persuade them to turn to the great literary masterpieces
of Pagan Rome, where they were likely to find principles and ideals
more in harmony with their tastes than those set before them by the
Catholic Church.

The thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries, then, mark a
period of transition from the Middle Ages to modern times. They saw a
sharp struggle being waged between two ideals in politics, in
education, in literature, in religion, and in morality. In this great
upheaval that was characterised by a demand for unrestricted liberty
of investigation, a return to the study of nature and of the natural
sciences, the rise and development of national literatures, and the
appearance of a new school of art, the Humanist movement or the
revival of the study of the classics, the /literae humaniores/, played
the fundamental part. In more senses than one it may be called the Age
of the Renaissance.

Nor was it a matter of chance that this revival of interest in
classical studies should have made itself felt first in Italy, where
the downfall of the Empire, and the subsequent development of petty
states seem to have exercised a magical influence upon the
intellectual development of the people. The Italians were the direct
heirs to the glory of ancient Rome. Even in the days of their
degradation, when the capital deserted by the Popes was fast going to
ruin, and when foreigners and native tyrants were struggling for the
possession of their fairest territories, the memory of the imperial
authority of their country, and the crumbling monuments that bore
witness to it still standing in their midst, served to turn their
patriotic ardour towards the great literary treasures bequeathed to
them by Pagan Rome. Greek literature, too, was not forgotten, though
in the thirteenth century few western scholars possessed any
acquaintance with the language. Many causes, however, combined to
prepare the way for a revival of Greek. The commercial cities of Italy
were in close touch with the Eastern Empire, especially since the
Crusades; ambassadors, sent by the Emperors to seek the assistance of
the Pope and of the Western rulers in the struggle against the Turks,
were passing from court to court; the negotiations for a reunion of
the Churches, which had been going on since the days of the first
Council of Lyons, rendered a knowledge of Greek and of the writings of
the Greek Fathers necessary for some of the leading ecclesiastics of
the West; while, finally, the fall of Constantinople in 1453 forced
many Greek scholars to seek a refuge in Italy or France, and provided
the agents sent by the Popes and Italian rulers with a splendid
opportunity of securing priceless treasures for the Western libraries.

Though Dante (1265-1321) is sometimes regarded as the earliest of the
Humanist school[2] on account of his professed admiration for some of
the Pagan masters and of the blending in his /Divina Comedia/ of the
beauties of Roman literature with the teaching of the Fathers and
Scholastics, still, the spirit that inspired him was the spirit of
Christianity, and his outlook on life was frankly the outlook of the
Middle Ages. To Petrarch (1304-74) rather belongs the honour of having
been the most prominent, if not the very first writer, whose works
were influenced largely by Humanist ideals. Born in Arezzo in 1304, he
accompanied his father to Avignon when the latter was exiled from
Florence. His friends wished him to study law; but, his poetic
tendencies proving too strong for him, he abandoned his professional
pursuits to devote his energies to literature. The patronage and help
afforded him willingly by the Avignonese Popes[3] and other
ecclesiastics provided him with the means of pursuing his favourite
studies, and helped him considerably in his searches for manuscripts
of the classics. Though only a cleric in minor orders, he was
appointed Canon of Lombez (1335), papal ambassador to Naples (1343),
prothonotary apostolic (1346), and archdeacon of Parma (1348). These
positions secured to him a competent income, and, at the same time,
brought him into touch with libraries and influential men.

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