1. Historical Perspective: Man’s Outlook on History (6)
The Rise and Fall of the Imperial Church
For more than a thousand years onward, from the day of Orosius and Augustine, Christian Europe had as a whole a perspective in which Sin and Grace were the dominating factors; and the salvation of one’s own soul and the souls of others was the all-absorbing task of righteous men. The ordained instrument of salvation was the Church, and in comparison with the Church earthly kingdoms, which were usually fleeting and ephemeral, were of comparatively minor importance. The old idea of the diuturnity of the Roman Empire was superseded by the new idea of the diuturnity of the Church. What were kingdoms like the Vandal kingdom in Africa, the Ostrogothic kingdom in Italy, the Visigothic kingdom in Spain, the kingdom of the Lombards, Burgundians, and so forth, but things of a few scores of years or a few centuries which vanished away? The Holy Roman Empire of Charlemagne was a vast but unreal archaeological conception, falsified ere its founder had been dead a hundred winters; and the Holy Roman Empire of Otto the Great had not even the pretence of universality which had rendered the creation of Charlemagne imposing. It turned into nothing more than the attempt of three German dynasties to maintain a precarious sovereignty over Rome and Italy. And the attempt failed—to the lasting misery of Germany and Italy alike.
Meanwhile the dominating idea of the thousand years was not the Holy Roman Empire but the Church. And, as the great struggle between Guelf and Ghibelline verged to its end, it became clear that the Church—the victor in the strife—was rotten through and through, as rotten as the Holy Roman Empire of Sigismund of Luxemburg or Frederic of Austria. The papacy of the Avignonese Captivity and the Great Schism and the Conciliar epoch of the XVth century was obviously out of gear—unable to speak with moral authority any longer. Hence the profound spiritual depression with which the Middle Ages ended. It was a time of heresies—honest protests many of them, but unsatisfying as schemes of salvation for the world.
I do not think that I can give a better example of the normal outlook on the world during the Middle Ages than that shown by the great Nuremberg Chronicle of 1493. History is conceived of in the well-known “seven ages”, the sixth of which is supposed to be drawing somewhat towards its close. So after the description of the events of the year 1492, including a great execution of Jews, and portraits of Pope Alexander VI and the Emperor Maximilian, we come to a blank of six pages, left virgin white for the use of the owner of the book, who is invited to fill them up in manuscript with the transactions of the short time that the world has still to endure. Then we come to Séptima Aetas Mundi, consisting of an account from the Book of Revelations of the rise of the Beast, the False Prophet, and Antichrist, the martyrdom of the Two Witnesses, the pouring out of the Seven Vials, and finally the Last Judgement. All these events are profusely illustrated with the splendid woodcuts in which Michael Wohlgemuth was so strong. He revelled in lurid scenes of battle, murder, and sudden death. His devils of the last pages are particularly horrible and convincing, as they are throughout this wonderful Chronicle.
One can perhaps understand this pessimistic conception of the fate of the Universe in the eyes of the common reader of religious mind and orthodox tendencies, by a glance round the contemporary political situation. For that large majority of mankind in Europe who were unaffected by the Renaissance and the Revival of Learning, the times were, indeed, out of joint. Religious enthusiasm was played out, the heresies of Wycliffe and Huss had been crushed, but the morality and mentality of the world were none the better for the victory of orthodoxy. The long struggle between the Papacy and the General Councils, which had been the main feature of XVth-century history, had brought no credit to either of the two institutions. The Councils had been factious and unrepresentative, and had ended in discredit. The Popes of the “Great Schism” might have been scandalous, but even John XXIII was less scandalous than Rodrigo Borgia, who now as Alexander VI had been just enthroned in the Vatican, one year before the Nuremberg Chronicle was printed. The Holy Roman Empire had sunk to the lowest depth of impotent discredit under Frederick III, who died in the very year that the Chronicle was printed (1493). There was no good reason to expect any great resurrection of the Imperial prestige under his flighty if chivalrous son Maximilian.
The constant threat to all Christendom from the Ottoman Turks was still in existence; ever since the fall of Constantinople in 1453 the danger had appeared imminent. And the one great warrior king who had served as the warden of the Danube marches for all Europe, Matthias Corvinus of Hungary, was recently dead (1490) and had left his throne to an unworthy successor. Whether the common Christian man was in his soul Guelf or Ghibelline, whether he was more affected by the theory of the world-dominion of the Church or by that of the secular dominion of the Holy Roman Empire, he had little to comfort him in the political outlook. And the moral outlook was distressing: the Saints were dead, the Church was in the hands of politicians—often politicians of scandalous life. The reformation-ideal of the General Councils had failed entirely; no one could foresee that another Reformation-Ideal of a very different sort was on the way; and if the men of 1493 could have foreseen Luther and Calvin they might perhaps have been more convinced than ever that the Iron Age, Sexta Aetas Mundi, was about to end in chaos and the Last Judgement!
To obtain a deluxe leatherbound edition of STUDIES ON THE NAPOLEONIC WARS, subscribe to Castalia History.