DURANTS' S o C
Vol. VI THE REFORMATION
Pgs 254 - 257
THE REFORMERS (cont.)
Marsilius, like Ockham and Luther, after proposing to replace the authority of the Church with that of the people, was compelled, both for social order and for his own security, to replace it with the authority of the state. But he did not raise the kings into ogres of omnipotence. He looked beyond the triumph of the state to the day when the people might actually exercise the sovereignty that legal theorists had long affected to vest in them. In ecclesiastical reform he advocated democracy: each Christian community should choose its representative to church councils, each parish should choose its own priests, control them, dismiss them if need should be; and no member of the parish should be excommunicated without its consent. Marsilius applied similar principles to civil government, but with hesitant modifications.
“We declare, according to truth and opinion of Aristotle, that the legislator --- the prime and proper effective cause of law -- should be the people, the whole body of citizens, or its weightier part (valentiorem partem ), commanding or deciding by its own choice of will, expressed verbally in a general assembly of citizens. Only out of the deliberation and will of the whole multitude is the best law produced. A majority, more readily than any of its parts, can discern the defects in a law proposed for enactment, for an entire body is greater in power and worth than any of its separate parts.”
This is a remarkable statement for its time (1324 ), and the conditions of the age justify its hesitations. Even Marsilius would not advocate equal suffrage for all adults in Europe where hardly one person in ten could read, communication was difficult, and class divisions were mortised in the cement of time. Indeed he rejected complete democracy, wherein policy and legislation would be determined by a count of noses (egenorum multitudo -- a multitude of needy people ). And to correct this “ corruption of a republic,“ he was willing that individuals should have political power commensurate with their value to the community -- but he did not say how or by whom this was to be judged. He left room for monarchy, but added that “ a ruler who is elected is greatly to be preferred to rulers who are hereditary.”
These ideas had a medieval, even an ancient, origin: the Roman lawyers and the Scholastic philosophers had regularly endowed the people with a theoretical sovereignty, the papacy itself was an elective monarchy; the pope called himself “servus servorum Dei -- servant of the servants of God.” Here in one man, Marsilius, in the fourteenth century, were the ideas of both the protestant Reformation and the French Revolution. Marsilius was too far a head of his time to be comfortable. He rose rapidly with Louis of Bavaria, and fell rapidly with Louis’ fall. When Louis made peace with the popes he was required to dismiss Marsilius as a heretic. We do not know the sequel. Apparently Marsilius died in 1343, an outcast alike from the Church that he had fought and from the state that he had laboured to exalt.
His temporary success would have been impossible had not the rising legal profession given to the state an authority rivalling that of the Church. Over and above the ruins of feudal and communal law, beside and often against the canon law of the Church, the lawyers raised the “positive law “ of the state; and year by year this royal or secular law extended its reach over the affairs of men. The law schools Montpelier, Orleans, and Paris, turned out bold and subtle legists who used Roman law to build up, as against papal claims, a theory of divine right and absolute power for their royal masters. These ideas were strongest in France where they evolved into “L’etat c ‘est moi “ and “Le roi soleil;” They prevailed also in Spain, preparing the absolutism of Ferdinand, Charles V, and Phillip II; and even in parliamentary England Wyclif expounded the unlimited authority of the divine king. Lords and Commons opposed the theory, and Sir John Fortescue insisted that the English king could not issue laws without the consent of Parliament, and that English judges were bound, by their oath, to judge by the law of the land, whatever the king might desire; but under Henry VII, Henry VIII, and Elizabeth, England too would kneel to absolute rulers. Some idealistic spirits clung to the notion of a “natural law, “ a divine justice implanted in the human conscience, phrased in the Gospels, and superior to the law of man. Neither the state nor the Church paid more than lip service to this conception; it remained in the background; professed and ignored but ever faintly alive. In the eighteenth century it would father the American Declaration of Independence and the French declaration of the Rights of Man, and would play a minor but eloquent role in a revolution that for a time upset both the absolutisms that had ruled mankind.
Nicholas of Cusa fought, and then resigned himself to the absolutism of the papacy. His varied career showed the best face of organised Christianity to a Germany always suspicious of the Church. Philosopher and administrator, theologian and legist, mystic and scientist, he combined in one powerful personality the best constituents of those Middle Ages that were closing with his life. In a year at Heidelberg he felt the influence of Ockham’s nominalism; at Padua he was touched for a time with the scepticism of Averroes, at Cologne he absorbed the orthodox tradition of Albertus Magnus and Thomas Aquinas; all the elements were so mixed in him that it would make him the most complete Christian of his time.
He rejected the Scholastic rationalism that sought to prove theology by reason; all human knowledge, he felt, is relative and uncertain; truth is hidden in God. Generally he rejected astrology; but, succumbing to the delusions of his epoch, he reckoned that the end of the world would come in 1734. He kept abreast of scientific thought. He urged more experiment and more accurate measurements; he suggested timing the fall of different bodies from different heights; he taught that the earth “ cannot be fixed, but moves like other stars; every star, however fixed it may seem, moves; no orbit is precisely circular; earth is not at the centre of the universe, except in so far as any point may be taken as the centre of an infinite universe. These were sometimes judicious borrowings, sometimes brilliant apercus. Nicholas pictured the Church as an organic unity, incapable of successful functioning except through the harmonious co-operation of its parts. Instead of concluding, as the popes might have done, that the parts should be guided by the head, Nicholas argued that only a general council could represent, express, and unify the interdependent elements of the Church.
He repeated Aquinus and Marsilius, and almost plagiarized Rousseau and Jefferson, in an idealistic passage:
“Every law depends upon the law of nature; and if it contradicts this it cannot be a valid law... Since by nature all men are free, and every government... exists solely by the agreement and consent of the subjects... the binding power of any law consists in this tacit or explicit agreement and consent.
The sovereign people delegates its powers to small groups equipped by education or experience to make or administer laws; but these groups derive their just powers from the consent of the governed. When the Christian community delegates its powers to a general council of the Church, that council, and not the pope, represents the sovereign authority in religion. Nor can the pope rest his claim to legislative absolutism on the supposed Donation of Constantine, for that donation is a forgery and a myth. A pope has a right to summon a general council, but such a council, if it judges him unfit, may rightly depose him. And the same principles hold for secular princes. An elective monarchy is probably the best government available to mankind in its present depraved condition; but the secular ruler, like the pope, should periodically convene a representative assembly, and should submit to its decrees.
Nicholas’ later life was a model for prelates. Made a cardinal ( 1448) he became in person a Catholic Reformation. In a strenuous tour through the Netherlands and Germany, he held provincial synods, revived ecclesiastical discipline, reformed the nunneries and monasteries, attacked priestly concubinage, furthered the education of the clergy, and raised, at least for a time, the level of clerical and popular morality. “Nicholas of Cusa,” wrote the learned abbot Trithemius, “ appeared in Germany as an angel of light and peace amid darkness and confusion. He restored the unity of the Church, strengthened the authority of her Supreme Head, and sowed a precious seed of new life.”
To his other titles Nicholas could have added that of Humanist. He loved the ancient classics, encouraged their study, and planned to print for wide circulation the Greek manuscripts that he himself had brought from Constantinople. In a “Dialogue of Peace.” composed in the very year when Constantinople fell to the Turks, he pleaded for mutual understanding among the religions as diverse ways of one eternal truth. And in the Dawn of modern thought, when the rising freedom of the intellect was an intoxication, he wrote sound and noble words:
“To know and to think, to see the truth in the eye of the mind, is always a joy. The older a man grows, the greater is the pleasure that this affords him.... As love is the life of the heart, so is the endeavour after knowledge and truth the life of the mind. Amid the moments of time, the daily labour, perplexities, and contradictions of life, we should lift our gaze fearlessly to the clear vault of heaven, and seek ever to obtain a firmer grip of.... the origin of all goodness and beauty, the capacity of our own hearts and minds, the intellectual fruits of mankind throughout the centuries, and the wonderful works of Nature around us, but remembering always that in humility alone lies true greatness, and that knowledge and wisdom are profitable only in so far as our lives are governed by them.”
Had there been more Nicholas's there might have been no Luther.