to the dignity of the State which came into such vogue in the fifteenth century, and dissatisfied with the concessions already made to them by the Church, arrogated still further privileges, for example, the taxation of Church lands, the restriction of ecclesiastical jurisdiction, the so-called Government Placet and an oppressive right of visiting and supervising the parishes within their territories. There had thus grown up in many districts a system of secular interference in Church matters long before the religious apostasy of the sixteenth century resulted in the total submission of the Church to the Protestant princes of the land. The Catholic ruler recognised in principle the doctrines and rights of the Church. What, however, was to happen if rulers, equipped with such twofold authority, altered their attitude to the Church on the outbreak of the schism? Their fidelity was in many cases already put to a severe test by the disorders of the clergy, which were doing harm to their country and which Rome made no attempt to suppress. The ecclesiastico-political complaints of the princes (the famous Gravamina) against Rome are proofs of their annoyance; for these charges, as Dr. Eck pointed out, were for the most part well founded; Eck’s opinion was shared by other authorities, such as Bertold von Henneberg, Wimpfeling, Duke George of Saxony, and Aleander the Papal Nuncio, who all express themselves in the same manner regarding the financial grievances against Rome, which were felt in Germany throughout all ranks and classes down to the meanest individual.[105]
“On account of these and other causes the irritation and opposition to the Holy See had, on the eve of the great German schism, reached boiling point; this vexation is explained, as the ’Gravamina nationis Germanicæ’ clearly prove, by the disorders of the Curia, and still more by its unceasing demands.” “That the smouldering discontent broke into open flame was the doing of those scoffers without faith or conscience, such as the Humanists, who persisted in pouring on the fire the oil of their sophistries.”[106] The Catholic historian from whom these words are borrowed rightly draws attention to the “mistaken policy” entered on by Luther’s followers when they attacked the hierarchical order on account of the disorders rampant in the life and administration of the Church. The success of their “mistaken policy” was a “speaking proof of the coarseness, blindness and passion of the German people at that time,” but in its practical results their policy helped to bring about an ever-to-be-regretted alteration and to open a yawning chasm which still exists to-day. “That the vexation was not altogether without cause no honest historian can deny, whatever his enthusiasm for the Catholic Church,” for “the action of Churchmen, whether belonging to the hierarchy or to the regular or secular clergy, cannot be misunderstood. Throughout the whole of Christendom, and particularly in Germany, the general state of things was deplorable.... Even though the evils of the waning Middle Ages may have been, and still continue to be, grossly exaggerated by Protestants, and though in the fifteenth century we see many cheering examples and some partially successful attempts at reform, yet there still remains enough foulness to account psychologically for the falling away.”[107]
And yet the disorders in matters ecclesiastical in Germany would not have entailed the sad consequences they did had they not been accompanied by a great number of social evils, especially the intense discontent of the lower classes with their position and a hostile jealousy of the laity against the privileges and possessions of the clergy. Savage outbreaks of rebellion against the old traditional order of things were of frequent occurrence. In many localities the peasants were in arms against their princes and masters for the improvement of their conditions; the knights and the nobility, to say nothing of the cities, gave themselves up to the spirit of aggrandisement referred to above. It was just this spirit of unrest and discontent of which the coming mighty movement of intellectual and religious reform was to avail itself.
If we look more closely at Italy and Rome we find that in Italy, which comprised within its limits the seat of the supreme authority in the Church and of which the influence on civilisation everywhere was so important, complete religious indifference had taken root among many of the most highly cultured. The Renaissance, the famed classic regeneration, had undergone a change for the worse, and, in the name of education, was promoting the most questionable tendencies. After having been welcomed and encouraged by the Papacy with over-great confidence it disappointed both the Popes and the Church with its poisonous fruits.
At the time that the Holy See was lavishing princely gifts on art and learning, the pernicious system of Church taxation so often complained of by the nations was becoming more and more firmly established. This taxation, which had started at the time of the residence of the Popes at Avignon in consequence of the real state of need in which the central government of the Church then stood, became more and more an oppressive burden, especially in Germany. It was exploited by Luther in one of his earliest controversial writings where, voicing the popular discontent in that spiteful language of which he was a master, he joined his protest to that of the German Estates of the realm. Combining truth and fancy, the administration of the Papal finances became in his hands a popular and terribly effective weapon. It has frequently been pointed out how much the authority of the Holy See suffered in the preceding age, not only on account of the Western Schism when three rival claimants simultaneously strove for the tiara, but also through the so-called reforming councils and their opposition to the constitution of the Church, through the political mistakes of the Popes since they established their headquarters in France, through the struggle they waged to assert their power in Italy, that apple of discord of rising nations, and also, in the case of the Avignon Popes, through their lack, or, at any rate, suspected lack, of independence. To this we must add the shocking behaviour of the Curial officials and of several of the cardinals in the Eternal City, especially at the turn of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, also the disgraceful example of Alexander VI and the Borgia family, the bearing of his successor Julius II, more befitting a soldier than an ecclesiastic, and the very worldly spirit of Leo X and his Court. Ostentation and the abuse of worldly possessions and Church revenues which Alvarez Pelayo, the Spanish Franciscan, had already bewailed in his “De planctu ecclesiæ” had risen to still greater heights at Rome. The work of this severe critic, who, in spite of his fault-finding, was nevertheless well disposed to the Curia, was in general circulation just previous to Luther’s appearance on the field; it was several times reprinted, for instance, at Ulm in 1474, and again at Lyons in 1517, with a dedication to the later Pope Hadrian VI. It is there we find the indignant assertion, that those who bear the dignity of the primacy are God’s worst persecutors.[108] In the work “De squaloribus Romanæ curiæ” various well-founded complaints were adduced, together with much that was incorrect and exaggerated. The book “De ruina ecclesiæ” (see above, p. 50) contained accusations against the Popes and the government of the Church couched in rude and violent language, and these too gained new and stronger significance at the end of the fifteenth and commencement of the sixteenth century. We actually read therein that the number of the righteous in the Church is diminutive compared with that of the wicked.[109]
There is no doubt that the state of things, so far as it was known from the above-mentioned books, or from observation or rumour, was busily and impatiently discussed in the company frequented by Luther at the University of Wittenberg. What Luther had himself seen at Rome must have still further contributed to increase the bitterness among his friends.
When the Monk of Wittenberg openly commenced his attacks on the Papacy, it became apparent how far the disorders just alluded to had prepared the way for his plans. It was clear that all the currents adverse to the Papacy were, so to speak, waiting for the coming of one man, who should unchain them with his powerful hand. Amongst those who hitherto had been faithful adherents of the Church, Luther found combustible material—social, moral and political—heaped up so high that a stunning result was not surprising. Had there arisen a saint like St. Bernard, on whose words the world of the Middle Ages had hung, with the Divine gift of teaching and writing as the times demanded, who can say what course events would have taken? But Luther arrived on the scene with his terrible, mighty voice, pressed all the elements of the