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THE LONG EUROPEAN
REFORMATION
RELIGION, POLITICAL CONFLICT,
AND THE SEARCH FOR CONFORMITY,
1350–1750
Peter G. Wallace
The Long European Reformation
European History in Perspective
General Editor: Jeremy Black
Peter G. Wallace
© Peter G. Wallace 2004
All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this
publication may be made without written permission.
No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted
save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence
permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency,
90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1T 4LP.
Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication
may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
The author has asserted his right to be identified
as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright,
Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published 2004 by
PALGRAVE MACMILLAN
Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS and
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010
Companies and representatives throughout the world
PALGRAVE MACMILLAN is the global academic imprint of the Palgrave
Macmillan division of St. Martin’s Press, LLC and of Palgrave Macmillan Ltd.
Macmillan® is a registered trademark in the United States, United Kingdom
and other countries. Palgrave is a registered trademark in the European
Union and other countries.
ISBN 0–333–64450–6 hardback
ISBN 0–333–64451–4 paperback
This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully
managed and sustained forest sources.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
Wallace, Peter George, 1952–
The long European Reformation : religion, political conflict, and the search
for conformity, 1350–1750 / Peter G. Wallace.
p. cm. — (European history in perspective)
Includes bibliographical references (p. ) and index.
ISBN 0–333–64450–6 — ISBN 0–333–64451–4 (pbk.)
1. Reformation. 2. Europe—Politics and government. 3. Christianity—
Europe. I. Title. II. European history in perspective (Palgrave (Firm))
BR305.3.W35 2003
274—dc21
2003042969
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
13 12 11 10 09 08 07 06 05 04
Printed in China
To Shelley, Erik, and Evan
This page intentionally left blank
CONTENTS
Introduction 1
Notes 223
Select Bibliography 235
Index 246
vii
LIST OF MAPS
viii
ABBREVIATIONS
Convention on dates
When appearing with a set of dates (e.g. *1547–1560), the asterisk signifies
the years of a monarch or pope’s reign. Sets of dates without an asterisk
mark the individual’s life span.
ix
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
x
Acknowledgements xi
In the spring of 1776, the Catholic pastor for the small town of Munster
in Upper Alsace, Antoine Maurer, petitioned his religious superior, the
bishop of Basel, to order Maurer’s patron, the Benedictine abbot in
Munster, for an increase in wages. Maurer served Munster and a half-
dozen hamlets peppering the surrounding ridges. The petition listed
the religious services which the priest performed to meet the spiritual
needs of his flock. One duty was to bring the consecrated host (the
viaticum) to sick and dying parishioners day or night in all weather.
Maurer would ride a donkey while the churchwarden preceded him with
an illuminated lantern and a handbell. When they encountered some-
one on the road, the churchwarden rang the bell to let the mountain folk
know that they should kneel to honour the real presence of Christ as it
passed. Maurer commented that, because it was a new practice, Lutherans
needed to be told what it was about, and that he had “not yet met a single
one who has refused to [kneel] after having been instructed”.1
Except for the presence of Lutherans, Maurer’s frustrations with his
ecclesiastical superiors and his experiences with the mountain folk could
easily have occurred in 1376, four hundred years earlier. For centuries
pastors and patrons had bickered over fees and obligations, while rural
Christians relied on town-dwelling priests to provide for their spiritual
needs. Martin Luther and other sixteenth-century reformers had sought
to shift the religious leadership’s focus away from fees and payments as
part of a renewal of the medieval Church. More importantly, the
reformers hoped to restore and clarify the core tenets of the faith, which
they would then make accessible to all Christians. Maurer’s experience,
260 years after Luther posted his theses, suggests that this realization of
a reformed Christianity had been gradual and incomplete. Great distances
1
2 The Long European Reformation
Thinking Historically
People use the word “history” to define two distinct phenomena: past
events and the accounts of past events. 5 In the historical past, wars,
famines, and revolutions happened as people confronted difficult and
Introduction 3
often poorly understood choices and acted on them, with results that,
more often than not, did not meet their expectations. We also apply the
term “history” to accounts of past events and their impact on the historical
present, but ironically in historical accounts the present also filters our
understanding of the past.6 The ancient Greeks coined the word “history”,
by which they meant learning by inquiry, and until the Enlightenment,
historical research and writing maintained this open intellectual agenda.
In the last 200 years, history has become a professional discipline prac-
tised by rigorously trained research scholars, who, through the systematic
exploration of documents contemporary to the events under analysis,
combined with the “objective”, non-partisan, and scientific demeanour
required of a professional, construct “as accurately as possible” accounts
of past historical events.7 Recently, however, this commitment to historical
objectivity and scientific methods has come under fire from a cluster of
theories loosely gathered into a perspective labelled post-modernist.
In light of post-modernist critiques, Keith Jenkins’s brief essay
Re-thinking History provides a helpful introduction to historiography;
that is, the study of writing histories. 8 Jenkins argues that from the per-
spective of post-modernism, the past must be understood as a complex,
chaotic, and unknowable landscape. Historical accounts construct window
frames through which we may view this landscape. Both the way we
build our frames and the way we look through them are habits learned
as we are taught to think historically. What we see, when we read any
historical account of the Reformation, is framed both by the text’s author
and by our own learned preconceptions. My window frame could high-
light theologians, or peasants, or princes. You as a reader will view the
landscape, which I have framed, through your own unique perspective.
It is in your effort to resolve the tension between your frame and mine
that learning occurs. What follows, then, is an account of the European
Reformation based on my reading of the landscape of historical events
through the “sediment of previous interpretations” or, more precisely,
what I have learned in resolving the tension between my preconceptions
and the accounts or frames of other authors, who themselves have wrestled
with the same learning process.
As a teacher of Reformation history, I have learned that recognizing
the personal values and baggage we all bring to this subject is important
in how we understand its historical legacies. Those of you who read this
book bring to it extremely diverse religious and personal backgrounds.
Many of you have had no formal contact with Christianity, and even
those of you who have been raised as Christians or have come to faith
4 The Long European Reformation
later in your lives confront Christian history differently. Some of you seek
to understand the world through the prism of faith, while others do not.
As your guide, you should know that I was raised in the Catholic faith
and as a young man briefly studied for the priesthood. I have since parted
ways with the Roman Catholic Church. As a trained historian, my goal is
to approach the material carefully from a critical and self-critical per-
spective, but my understanding of the subject remains entangled in my
life experiences, as will yours.
their lives with meaning. Nearly all of them also believed that Christ’s
second coming was at hand, and their conviction gave them courage to act.
In this charged atmosphere, Martin Luther’s opposition to the Church
openly challenged its claim to both the apostolic past and the apocalyptic
future and triggered wide-scale political, religious, and social unrest.
In the violent struggles which followed, chroniclers in all camps defended
their actions and interpreted their successes and setbacks in light of
a spiritual struggle between God and the Devil waged in temporal history.
Most of these earliest accounts of the Reformation were written by active
participants, in the heat of controversy, whose texts smeared their oppon-
ents and glorified their own party. 9 Over the ensuing generations, the
bloodshed among Protestants and Catholics only deepened religious
divisions, and partisan historians shaped their accounts of the reform
movements as propaganda, calumny, or apologetics. The thirst for the
security of divine sanction for one’s actions made it extremely difficult to
see anything of value in an opposing view.
By the end of the sixteenth century, the reform groups had gelled into
separate religious camps, which historians have come to call “confessions”,
from the Latin word confessio (acknowledgement). Reform leaders, both
Catholic and Protestant, hammered out tenets of faith that their followers
had to acknowledge to affirm their membership in the true Christian
community. Meanwhile decades of civil and inter-dynastic war had
added massacres, martyrdoms, and persecutions to be commemorated
in historical accounts, but the skein of violence had also exhausted the
participants without determining God’s chosen Church. By 1695, when
Veit Ludwig von Seckendorff first defined the Reformation as an era in
Church history rather than a movement, confessionally minded historians
had to accept that the Reformation’s historical legacy had been to divide
Christianity rather than cleanse and restore it. 10 By the beginning of
the eighteenth century, all four major confessions, Catholic, Lutheran,
Calvinist, and Anglican, had spawned minority factions or non-conformist
movements whose members read the historical roots of these churches
differently. Henceforth, there could be no consensus account, no single
window frame, to illuminate the Reformation landscape.
By 1750 European politics, society, and culture had begun to undergo
a set of tectonic shifts which ushered in the modern era. The Enlighten-
ment movement, philosophical idealism, and liberalism promoted new,
secular visions of history. Confessional historical scholarship continued
to operate, but the Reformation’s historical significance came into question.
The emerging professional approach to history relegated the study of
6 The Long European Reformation
the Reformation to its role in nurturing the modern state, modern society,
and modern individualism. 11 In this framework, Protestantism, which
predominated in the industrial powers of England, Germany, and the
United States, emerged as a modernizing force. Leopold von Ranke,
Max Weber, and Ernst Troeltsch composed critical assessments of the
relationship between the Reformation and modernity, but Reformation
studies never spawned a paradigmatic account, a widely accepted view,
of the era’s place in the origins of modern history.12 Meanwhile in an
increasingly professionalized environment, Reformation historiography
became almost exclusively the provenance of Church historians, most of
whom were churchmen themselves.
The historical profession and the volume of Reformation scholarship
have mushroomed in the past fifty years. Much of the new research,
loosely described as social history, has turned away from accounts of the
political, social, and intellectual elites to explore the historical landscape
of the common folk, of women rich and poor, of children, and of mar-
ginalized groups. Down to the mid-1970s the dialogue between social and
Church historians remained limited, but recently Reformation studies
have opened themselves to numerous new influences. The diversity and
depth of the scholarship prohibit any short overview, but this text will
attempt to highlight these new insights and perspectives where they
apply.13
The original followers of Jesus of Nazareth were Jews. During his life-
time, neither he nor they wrote down his message or their experiences.
What we know of Jesus derives from diverse and sometimes conflicting
texts written thirty to seventy years after his death by followers who
interwove personal memories and oral traditions with their developing
sense of his mission.17 Sometime in the late 20s CE Jesus of Nazareth
preached and attracted a band of followers in Galilee, a region in north-
ern Palestine within the Roman Empire. Roman officials normally toler-
ated local religions, but unlike most subjects the Jews adhered to a single
faith and felt that they were the chosen people of their God, Yahweh.
Centuries earlier the Jews had forged a significant regional kingdom,
which had fallen, they believed, because of their failure to honour
Yahweh. Through the words of prophets, who literally served as God’s
mouthpieces, Yahweh had promised to restore this kingdom. Under
Roman rule many poorer Jews had come to anticipate a political revival
through a messiah, one anointed by God. Before, during, and after
Jesus’s lifetime, a number of messiahs had risen on waves of social anger
directed against both the Romans and collaborating Jewish elites in
Jerusalem. Jesus was one of them. He claimed intimate knowledge of
God, preached the coming of God’s kingdom, taught through parables
drawn from the experiences of the common folk, and practised a social
and gender egalitarianism which troubled Jewish elites. When Jesus
confronted Jewish officials with the threat of disorder in Jerusalem, the
local Roman officials had him arrested and put to death. Many messianic
Jews believed that Yahweh would raise the dead to help restore the king-
dom. Following his execution by crucifixion, Jesus’s disciples claimed
that he had risen from the dead, ascended into heaven, and would soon
come again to establish God’s kingdom on earth. Scholars refer to this
collective expectation of a “second coming” as “apocalyptic”.
These first Jewish Christians were Aramaic-speakers, who formed an
apocalyptic church in Palestine, pooled their economic resources, and
lived in common, waiting for signs of Jesus’s return. Most Jews, however,
lived outside of Palestine in the urban centres of the ancient Mediterra-
nean basin and western Asia. These Jews of the diaspora (dispersal) spoke
Greek, which was the common language for discourse in this ethnic and
cultural melting pot. 18 Early on, the Jewish Christians of Palestine
spread the gospel or “good news” to the diaspora communities. Paul of
Tarsus, a Greek-speaking Jew of the diaspora, a Roman citizen, and an
early Christian convert, carried his conviction in Jesus’s messianic mission
throughout the countries of the eastern Mediterranean. His epistles
10 The Long European Reformation
(letters) are among the oldest Christian texts we have. Paul, who had
never met Jesus, translated Christian faith beyond its initial Jewish
context. He defined Christian ethics, how individuals come to the faith
and how communities of faith should live in this world. He broadcast the
gospel to the Gentiles (non-Jews), and insisted that they did not need to
embrace the complexity of Mosaic law – literally to become Jews – in
order to embrace Jesus. He thus opened Church membership to the
world. Finally he concentrated on the events surrounding Jesus’s death,
the Last Supper, the Crucifixion, and the Resurrection, as the purpose
of Jesus’s life. Paul saw Jesus as the anointed one, the Messiah (or Christos,
in Greek), whose redeeming death granted salvation for every individual
soul and whose resurrection confirmed the resurrection of all true
believers when Jesus would come again. According to Paul, all that God
required was faith in these truths.
Paul’s historical vision for Christianity would have a profound effect
on the future Church; however, Paul’s personal mission troubled Jewish
Christians, many of whom found it too difficult to embrace Gentile
Christians as brethren. He also angered non-Christian Jews, who became
increasingly enraged over the blasphemous spiritual power which his
followers assigned to Christ, and who regularly persecuted Jewish
Christians. Meanwhile other messiahs spurred popular resistance to
Roman rule; this escalated into a major uprising between 66 and 70 CE.
In retaliation the Romans destroyed the Temple at Jerusalem and brutally
repressed the Palestinian Jews, Christian and non-Christian alike.19
Though Paul had not lived to see it, his vision of the Christian community
separated from its Jewish roots had emerged victorious by default.
In the wake of the great rebellion, many of the first Christian writings
appeared. These gospels offered accounts of Jesus’s life, mission, and
message, for audiences who had never met him. Soon Christian commu-
nities began to develop ceremonies that expressed their faith and
defined membership. They gathered regularly to celebrate the Eucharist,
a ritual meal which recalled the events surrounding Jesus’s death and
resurrection, and over time the feast condensed into a liturgy of com-
munion during which bread and wine were blessed and shared. To join
in Christian communion, a prospective adult convert, or catechumen,
endured a lengthy initiation process culminating in baptism, a ceremo-
nial washing away of the old self with water. Sometimes individuals
broke faith or disrupted the communion among believers. Christians
would forgive these “sins” but only after public acts of confession and
penance by the sinner, normally carried out before the entire community.
Introduction 11
The Germanic tribes poured into the Western Empire in the fourth and
fifth centuries as both invited and uninvited guests, settling in among
their Latin neighbours. Several German tribes entered Imperial terri-
tory as Christians, though they followed a heretical form known as
Arianism, which did not accept the full divinity of Jesus or the Holy
Spirit. Arian Christian warlords harassed and persecuted Catholic
Christians. Other tribes, such as the Angles, Saxons, and Franks, came
into the Empire as pagans and soon Catholic Christian missionaries
sought to convert them. German tribal leaders, known as kings, embodied
the “luck” of the tribe and possessed sacral characteristics, so missionaries
devoted their efforts to converting kings, such as the Frankish leader
Clovis, who in 496 accepted Catholic Christianity along with his whole
tribe. The dramatic conversion and baptism of several thousand
Frankish warriors in one day, however, was only the first step in the
complex process of Christianizing Germanic beliefs, attitudes, values,
and behaviours. 32
In order to make the new faith understandable to the converts,
Christian missionaries recast it in German cultural terms, accepting
Germanic political ideals and integrating aspects of Germanic folk
religions. For example, the kings claimed ultimate ownership of all lands
controlled by the tribe and cemented the loyalty of their retainers,
including churchmen, with gifts of land or precious metal, referred to
in the sources as benefices. Royal generosity entailed obligations from
the recipient, and “beneficed” churchmen became beholden to their lay
patrons. Likewise the German common folk, whose religiosity centred
on rituals that placated or manipulated forces in the physical and spiritual
world, accepted Christianity as a new and powerful set of ceremonies
and magical objects. Germanic moral or ethical responsibilities, however,
remained embedded in kinship obligations of honour and vengeance,
and the ethical fabric of classical Christianity carried little meaning.
Conflicts between the ethical expectations of kinship and of faith would
continue into the early modern era.
16 The Long European Reformation
The popes could draw warriors from all over Europe to participate in
the Crusades by invoking the ideal of “Christendom”, which had its roots
in the Germanization of Christianity and in particular the Frankish–
Papal alliance.38 Since Clovis’s conversion ecclesiastical officials had
depended on his successors, the Merovingians, to defeat Arian and pagan
rivals. Merovingian victories expanded the Frankish domain, but the
dynasty followed the Germanic practice of divisible inheritance, resulting
in fratricide and factional warfare. The kings relied on powerful warlords,
18 The Long European Reformation
headed by the maior domus, who was steward of the royal household, to
rule effectively. Charles Martel held this title and in 732 brought prestige
to his own family with his victory over the Muslims. 39 His son Pippin
planned to depose the Merovingians but had no legitimate claim to sacral
kingship. In 751, Pope Zacharias justified Pippin’s coup with an archival
forgery, the Donation of Constantine, which claimed to grant the pope
the right to make and unmake kings.40 Three years later when Zacharias’s
successor, Stephen III, requested assistance against his troublesome
neighbours the Lombards, Pippin marched into Italy and subdued them.
Pippin then cemented his compact with the popes through a benefice of
land in central Italy, which became the core of papal territories in the
peninsula.
The new Frankish dynasty, known in history as the Carolingians after
Charlemagne, their most famous member, initiated a reform movement
within the Church that established a template for ecclesiastical adminis-
tration that lasted until the Reformation. Under the leadership of the
Anglo-Saxon churchmen Boniface and Alcuin, the Carolingians ordered
the construction of parish churches in the countryside, assigned priests
trained to carry out sacramental duties in the parishes, and assessed
a tithe, a tax of one-tenth on the parishioners’ harvests, to support the
local clergyman in his duties. 41 Boniface also sent missionaries eastward
into Central Europe with the Carolingian armies to convert the defeated
pagan tribes, often at sword point. As they had with the popes, the
Carolingians granted to monasteries and bishops lands and rights along
this religious and military frontier, establishing a powerful landed clerical
elite in Central Europe.
As their domains grew, the Carolingians became increasingly dependent
on the clergy to handle correspondence and record-keeping as traditional
Germanic face-to-face administration became too difficult. The clerical
advisors identified the expanding Carolingian Empire as the imperium
christianum (Christendom), a concept they drew from Augustine of Hippo’s
City of God. Christendom fused Church and state and blended membership
in both. Baptism made one both a Frank and a Christian, and forced
conversions were essential for submission to Carolingian overlordship.
Finally, on Christmas day 800, the pope crowned Charlemagne as
Emperor of the Romans and chief Christian layman. Ultimately, Frankish
Christendom failed to hold together and by the mid-ninth century
the Carolingian Empire had collapsed. None the less, the concept of
Christendom would take on new life under the auspices of a reforming
papacy in the eleventh century.
Introduction 19
Papal monarchy
families. The popes installed new cardinals drawn from a circle of Cluniac
reformers and called on their expertise to help administer the Church.
In 1056, Emperor Henry III’s untimely death left the six-year-old
Henry IV as heir. In 1059, Pope Nicholas II (*1058–61) decreed that
henceforth the college of cardinals would elect the pope, thus ending
the Emperor’s influence over the reform movement. As the next step,
the popes completed their campaign against lay influence over clerical
appointments by claiming the sole right to ritually install (invest) abbots
and bishops throughout Christendom. By 1076, Pope Gregory VII
(*1073–85) would clash with the now mature Henry IV over the investiture
of the archbishop of Milan. In the ensuing conflict, Gregory excommu-
nicated the Emperor and initially compelled Henry to submit, but the
Investiture Controversy dragged on until the Concordat of Worms in
1122, which permitted nomination by those, including lay persons, who
had rights over the benefice, while insisting on formal papal approval
(provision) of the nominee.45 The emperors had initiated reform within
the Church, but the reformed papacy now claimed full authority over
the Church and spiritual headship over all of Christendom.
The “Gregorian” reforms in the mid-eleventh century ushered in two
centuries of expanding papal authority and power, culminating in the
pontificate of Innocent III (*1198–1216). The popes refashioned them-
selves from vicars of St Peter to vicars of Christ, thus claiming to represent
God on earth. Exercising their new authority, beginning in 1123 the popes
called a series of ecumenical councils, without Greek participation, to
spell out papal primacy in spiritual affairs. Furthermore, benefitting
from imagined ties to the old Roman Empire embodied in the forged
Donation of Constantine, papal officials followed Roman traditions that
designated the ruler as the creator and guardian of the law. Roman law
was written law, and papal lawyers compiled lists of decretals and canon
laws promulgated by the popes before the councils, which defined
proper practices in all aspects of Christian life. The popes dispatched
legates (representatives) to various principalities, and the papal court
became the seat of justice for disputes within Christendom. 46 In the pro-
cess, the popes constructed a system of administration, prerogatives, and
precedence that allowed them to exercise authority over the Christian
clergy comparable to the power of any monarch over his or her subjects.
The papal monarchy, like other medieval lay monarchies, was a hier-
archical network of persons who owed ultimate loyalty and obedience to
their monarch, the pope. Like other monarchs the popes claimed the
right to appoint their subjects to important governmental posts such as
Introduction 21
During the four centuries covered in this study, Europeans lived under
the murderous shadow of the plague. Between 1347 and 1350, an epi-
demic, later known as the Black Death, swept through Europe and killed
perhaps one-third of its population. Imagine the effects of the frightening
and unexplainable deaths of nearly two billion people in the course of
two summers. The pervasiveness and scope of misery left the fourteenth-
century chroniclers seeking moral explanations in human sinfulness and
divine retribution. Long processions of penitent flagellants passed from
community to community whipping themselves in hope of appeasing
God’s wrath and warding off plague through their expiation. Townsfolk
blamed resident Jews for poisoning wells, even though they too were
dying. Christian mobs murdered entire Jewish communities and burned
their homes, yet the plague continued to rage. One could imagine, along
with John of Winterthur, a Swiss Franciscan, that the Apocalypse prom-
ised in the Bible had begun. 1
The European world didn’t end in 1350, but it changed dramatically.
Plague is a complex disease whose dissemination requires the presence
of bacteria, fleas, and rodents. Endemic forms of plague exist in reservoirs
among rodent populations throughout the world. Occasionally an epi-
zootic disease among the rodents forces the plague-carrying fleas to find
other hosts, including humans. Once plague has entered the human
population, it spreads inexorably in great pandemics, series of cyclical
epidemics covering vast areas, that can last several centuries. 2 In Chris-
tendom the Black Death began in the ports of southern Italy and spread
like a slow but relentless brush fire across Europe. News of the calamity
preceded the outbreak of the illness itself, and religious officials called
for special services to ward off the catastrophe. Yet inevitably the disease
25
26 Threads of Reformation Histories
came, for as the Florentine humanist Boccaccio noted, “all the wisdom
and ingenuity of man were unavailing” to prevent it. 3 The initial out-
break struck rich and poor, clergy and laity, townsfolk and peasants.
The epidemic’s pathology left the survivors in shock yet relieved that
God had relented in his punishment; but the disease, which was now
endemic among the rat and flea populations in Europe, reappeared in
the early 1360s. This second deadly assault of plague had a profound
psychological and cultural impact whose effects were as devastating as
the Black Death.4 With the plague as a recurrent nightmare that would
haunt Europe until 1721, late fourteenth-century Christendom faced a
crisis marked by demographic stagnation, economic depression, endemic
warfare, and schism within the Catholic Church itself.
Scholars have traced the roots of the late medieval crisis to conditions
prior to the plague, when Europe was overpopulated, malnourished,
and under-employed. Between 1000 and 1300 CE, the population had
grown rapidly, and by the fourteenth century, perhaps 75 to 80 million
people inhabited the continent. Given available agricultural technolo-
gies, Europe was “full”, and many regions sheltered more inhabitants
than they would at any time prior to the nineteenth century.5 In the early
Middle Ages, Europeans had lived in isolated settlements surrounded by
dense and often intractable forests. Beginning in the eleventh century, the
growing population cleared forests and drained marshlands, bringing
new land under cultivation. By 1300, from nearly any steeple top in
Western Europe, an observer could see church towers in all directions,
each marking a settlement. The forests remained, but as grazing lands
for domesticated pigs and as sources of lumber and firewood.
Most Europeans lived in villages and worked the land. As we have
seen, when the Carolingian Empire disintegrated, the elites, both those
who prayed and those who fought, asserted rights over the land, which
they divided into manors.6 Under the manorial system, the peasants
(serfs) owed labour obligations on the lord’s demesne in return for the
physical and spiritual protection which the warriors and monks provided.
During the twelfth and thirteenth centuries many lay and ecclesiastical
lords moved away from direct management of their estates and leased
out farms to peasant tenants. The former serfs commuted their labour
duties to fixed payments in coin or kind and so gained some autonomy;
The Late Medieval Crisis 27
in distant cities and customers who included royalty; yet even these
manufacturing centres retained their ties to the regional agricultural
economy. Town walls never circumscribed economic zones, for as many
as one-fifth of urban residents engaged in part-time agricultural work,
while rural craft production probably contributed as much to the volume
of manufactured goods as urban workshops.
Towns were in fact embedded in “feudal” society. Urban ecclesiastical
institutions, lay elites, and even the civic government itself held rights of
lordship over neighbouring villages and peasants. Powerful extended
families with ties to the regional nobility and expertise in long-distance
commerce formed the urban elite.10 Beneath them tradesmen and labour-
ers organized themselves into guilds to regulate production, exchange,
and wages. This urban middle class divided itself along strata of wealth and
professional prestige. By modern standards European towns were small
with only Paris sheltering in excess of 100,000 residents. On the whole,
perhaps 10 percent of the population lived in towns, yet the concentration
of wealth, political power, and education in urban settings gave towns
much greater significance than their demographic weight warranted.11
By the end of the thirteenth century, Europe’s growing population had
reached a demographic ceiling. Despite improvements in agricultural
technologies, in particular the shift from a two- to a three-field system,
which increased the percentage of cropland under cultivation, the land
could no longer feed everyone. Rural parents found it difficult to
provide a livable legacy for their children. Forms of inheritance which
favoured one child, such as primogeniture for the eldest son, or ultimo-
geniture for the youngest, left other siblings with few resources beyond
their labour. Divisible inheritance turned livable holdings of fifteen to
twenty acres into micro-plots which could not support families. The sur-
plus of labour reduced wages, while grain shortages produced steadily
rising prices. As the climate grew cooler and wetter after 1300, frosts and
heavy rains triggered famine in much of north-western Europe between
1315 and 1317, which may have carried off 10 to 15 per cent of the
population. The ensuing generation filled in the gaps, but dearth and
hunger had become the norm for the vast majority of Europeans. 12
When plague struck in 1348, it reduced the human pressure on
resources, but it also strained familial, social, economic, and political rela-
tions. Soon institutional structures, inheritance patterns, systems of trade,
and even the lord’s ability to control the peasantry, came under stress
because, in Western Europe at least, feudal social foundations assumed
a large population and limited resources. The initial redistribution
The Late Medieval Crisis 29
of wealth profited peasants, whose rents for tenancies fell, and skilled
artisans, whose wages rose, as the late fourteenth century formed something
of a “golden age” for commoners with more disposable income,
available land, and political leverage than their ancestors or descendants.
The initial social and economic burden of depopulation fell on lay
and ecclesiastical lords, who responded by freezing wages at pre-plague
levels and preventing tenants from moving to estates with better lease
rates for land, but these measures failed.13 As time passed, however, condi-
tions for peasants began to deteriorate. Depopulation had altered traditional
patterns of demand for market-oriented agriculture. Ironically, a series
of good harvests in the last quarter of the fourteenth century triggered
a prolonged slump in prices, which temporarily enriched the pur-
chasing power of wage labourers but ruined those drawing income
from farming. Peasants abandoned their fields and homes, while mar-
ginal soils reverted to pasture and woodland. In the German-speaking
lands, perhaps a quarter of all villages ceased to exist.14 In northern France
and other turbulent regions, marauding armies drove the peasants out,
but war and plague alone cannot adequately explain these abandonments.15
Farming had grown unprofitable for many, and people quit to find better
work.
The economic strains affected more than the poor alone. Ecclesiastical
and lay landlords continued to feel the pinch as rent revenues from their
tenancies shrivelled up, for the tenant farmers could not afford the old
rates. Historians have argued that this crisis in revenues drove some lords
to banditry and helps explain the endemic civil wars in fifteenth-century
England, France, and elsewhere. Some impecunious lords mortgaged
their holdings and rights, handing them over to civic governments or
wealthy individual townsmen. The ploughmen, who had formerly been
the social and economic backbone of the peasantry, also fell into debt to
urban moneylenders and Jews. Peasants continued to work small to
medium-sized plots of land, but the towns assumed increasing control over
rural production and peasant labour, which exacerbated town–country
antagonisms. 16 None the less, growing urban economic clout did not
necessarily spell prosperity for all town dwellers. In many European cit-
ies, artisan householders lost their economic cushion and merged into
the growing ranks of working poor, while wealthy guildsmen who had
profited in the decades of crisis distanced themselves from their poorer
neighbours and intermarried with older elite families. Civic governance
became the prerogative of a small circle of oligarchs who saw themselves
as rulers maintaining good order among their “subjects”.
30 Threads of Reformation Histories
Good order and public peace were at a premium all over Europe in
the fifteenth century. The kings of England and France had warred with
one another for most of the Middle Ages, primarily over the English
monarch’s extensive territorial holdings in France. In 1337 rival claims
over Gascony, Aquitaine, and Flanders initiated conflict between the
French Valois monarchs and Edward III of England which plunged
France into a devastating century of bloodshed. As the Hundred Years
War drew to a close, frustration among English nobles over losses in
France and the ineptitude of Henry VI touched off a power struggle in
1455, known as the War of the Roses, which divided the nobility and
weakened the once proud English monarchy. In fifteenth-century Italy
most of the great city republics fell into the hands of noble despots or
ambitious mercenary captains, whose legacy of violence and duplicity
would inspire Machiavelli’s model of a successful prince. In the German-
speaking lands of the Holy Roman Empire, dynastic struggles among
the dukes of Bavaria, Luxembourg, and Austria over the Imperial
throne combined with the expansionist policies of the dukes of Bur-
gundy in the Rhine valley to disrupt peace and trade. Stronger states
would eventually emerge from these struggles, but the wars’ immediate
impact was to weaken established authorities and undermine traditional
loyalties.
Late medieval states functioned through networks of aristocratic
families bound together by personal ties rather than through institu-
tional structures. Royal councils, central and regional law courts, and
fiscal chambers provided the skeleton of a state, but the human muscle
that moved it responded to other stimuli than modern bureaucrats.
Politics entailed a welding of private interest onto royal service. Officials
treated their posts as personal property, allocated to them as members
of a distinct and privileged class. They governed through a distribution
of favours, both personal and official, and by calling in debts and obliga-
tions from clients. Devotion to a superior and generosity to subordinates
were honourable and ethical traits. The members of this power elite
envisioned themselves as the community of the realm, and they jealously
defended the “public” interest, which meant their collective private
rights. By the late fourteenth century nearly all leading ecclesiastical
officials belonged to the ruling class by birth or ambition, and ties of
blood, patronage, and class interest remained strong. Clerical education
was a traditional pathway to governmental service, except in Italy where
a new cohort of university-trained laymen, who modelled their political
behaviour on ancient pagan statesmen such as Cicero, had emerged.
The Late Medieval Crisis 31
between the rights of the mother church and newer sacral centres, rein-
forced by communal disputes over other resources, often soured paro-
chial relations.
The parish church itself normally comprised a choir or sanctuary,
where the priest performed his sacerdotal functions, and the nave,
where the faithful gathered to observe and hear the priest. Though local
lords, as patrons, might claim the right to attend religious services in the
sanctuary and often to be buried there, a railing or screen topped by
a crucifix (rood) divided the church’s two parts, visibly distinguishing
clerical space from that allocated to the laity. Painted or carved images of
Christ, Mary, and the saints covered the nave walls as teaching devices.
Some churches sheltered side altars, called chantries, for endowed com-
memorative Masses for the dead. The bells in the tower attached to the
church were rung to summon parishioners to services, sound the hours
of the ritual day, honour the dead, warn the community of fires and
threats, and ward off storms. Finally the walled yard around the church
sheltered the cemetery, offered defensive protection for the living in
border regions, and sometimes provided space for plays, celebrations,
and church ales. Ecclesiastical law required all parishioners to attend
parish services on Sundays and feast days. The people also came to
receive the sacraments and to be buried. Religious sites covered the
landscape, but the parish church was the nerve centre for collective
spiritual life.
To maintain the building and the ritual objects associated with the
sacraments and to sustain the curate with food and lodging, the
community paid annual tithes, normally assessed at one-tenth of their
crops. Parishioners sometimes delivered the grain, fruits, and eggs to
the parsonage for storage in its barn or larder, but normally officials
representing the tithe-holders collected the fruits directly at harvest.
As with so many other aspects of feudal administration, tithe revenues,
known as “temporalities”, actually belonged to the patron, who reserved
the right to appoint a priest as curate. Patrons were often church officials
or monastic houses, but lay men and women sometimes held the right of
patronage as descendants of the original parish founder or by acquisition
of the rights through mortgage or sale. The system could become quite
complex, with patronage rights and tithe revenues belonging to separate
individuals or in some cases shareholders. Those who pocketed tithe
revenues had responsibility for maintaining the sanctuary and sustaining
the priest, but the alienation of tithe collecting from religious service
opened the door for all sorts of irregularities as many patrons treated
34 Threads of Reformation Histories
their rights as a source of revenue and were less than conscientious about
making repairs or choosing priests. Patrons would grant their benefice
to a clerical relative or promising university student, who in turn would
use part of the income to hire a “mass-priest” as vicar. Absenteeism
among benefice-holders was not uncommon, and pluralism (the holding
of more than one benefice) was also widespread.
Lay interest and demand favoured resident priests, who could
effectively perform the sacraments and other religious services (called
“sacramentals”) such as blessing crops and livestock, and despite absen-
teeism and pluralism most parishes had resident beneficed clergy. To
cover for revenues skimmed off by patrons, parish priests often charged
fees for services, to the frustration of their tithe-paying parishioners.
Communities with chapels or filial churches paid tithes to the mother
church, whose curate was supposed to visit the outlying sites for bi-weekly
or monthly services and, most importantly, to attend the sick and dying
to prepare their souls for the next world. Distance, age, and temperament
sometimes resulted in irregular contact between the curate and these
outlying communities. Village officials routinely petitioned to elevate
their chapel or filial church to parochial status. Meanwhile a proletariat
of unbeneficed priests celebrated commemorative Masses for the souls
of dead parishioners at chapels and chantries financed by their surviving
kin. 20 Overall the extractive nature of the tithe system created tension
between supply and demand for religious services, and the misappro-
priation of revenues made many under-compensated clergymen fee
conscious. The laity responded by criticizing the tithe system and by
seeking to gain greater control over parochial revenues. Over the
centuries, community members had provided additional gifts to support
parochial activities, and the accumulated capital formed the church
fabric. In the later Middle Ages local lay parish members known as
church wardens assumed responsibility for the fabric.
While the countryside might be poorly served by priests, towns
tended to be infested with clergy. Most cities had more than one parish
whose religious and administrative structure resembled rural churches,
but in urban centres personal piety and concentrated wealth resulted in
significant numbers of endowed chantry altars, chapels, and commem-
orative Masses. Towns also housed religious communities such as monas-
teries and convents, as well as clerical administrators, especially in the
cathedral towns which served as diocesan sees (capitals) for a bishop.
Finally, urban educational institutions from grammar schools to univer-
sities were ecclesiastical bodies, whose administrators, teachers, and
The Late Medieval Crisis 35
students claimed clerical status. While villages were lucky to have their
own priest, in some urban communities one-tenth of the residents
claimed clerical status.
After around 1100 all parishes belonged to a diocese under the spirit-
ual guidance of a bishop. Episcopal sees varied in size, from immense
dioceses such as Lincoln and Constance to the tiny bishopric of Ravello
in Sicily, that stretched two miles at its widest.21 In 1400 there were
263 bishoprics on the Italian peninsula but only 131 in much larger
France. England, Scotland, and Wales combined had only thirty-three
dioceses, one less than neighbouring Ireland.22 The bishop was the
“ordinary” who held all spiritual jurisdiction, though in most of Europe,
except Italy where the dioceses were too small, the bishop exercised
control over his see through archdeacons, archpriests, or rural deans,
who presided over clusters of parishes in the bishop’s name. In some
areas deanery boundaries demarcated the original parish of the mother
church.
The bishop’s chief task was to be the liturgical head of his church.
He should perform all of the sacerdotal rites required of a priest, along
with the sacraments of confirmation for all Christians and holy orders to
ordain the priests needed to meet the spiritual responsibilities of parish
ministry in his diocese. As a result of the Investiture Controversy, clerics
attached to the episcopal cathedral, known as canons, held the exclusive
right to elect the bishop, yet everyone knew that powerful laymen would
influence elections, and by the fourteenth century many bishoprics had
become permanently associated with princely and noble dynasties.
Canons of cathedral chapters were themselves normally members of
elite families. Outside of the tiny Italian bishoprics, it was extremely rare
for a parish priest to become a canon, much less a bishop. Day-to-day
supervision and instruction of the diocesan clergy had never been an
episcopal duty, and bishops had limited control over parochial appoint-
ments and normally accepted the candidates nominated by the various
patrons.
Bishoprics were significant political institutions, and as with parish
benefices, some men held more than one episcopal office. Within the
Holy Roman Empire many bishops were territorial lords as well as eccle-
siastical officials. In Italy urban oligarchic families dominated important
episcopal offices, though here the bishops had less influence. In England,
the kings granted diocesan sees to valued clerical advisors, and once
appointed, English bishops often continued in royal service. In France,
the monarch’s supervision of episcopal elections was recognized by law.
36 Threads of Reformation Histories
with feudal rights, monastic communities were often at odds with their
peasant tenants. The Benedictines had no centralized governance system,
and the level of discipline in the houses varied. In earlier centuries
frustration with lax discipline had spawned reform movements among
communities, such as the Cistercians and Carthusians, calling for greater
austerity and more centralized governance, but on the whole, houses
maintained their independence. Originally founded in the countryside
away from settled communities, many houses later attracted settlements
during the medieval demographic expansion. In all, given the autonomy of
houses, it is difficult to generalize about religious behaviour, social power,
and political influence among Benedictines and their reformed branches.
Some regular clergy focused their ministry in towns, where they served
as preachers and teachers. Among these orders, communities of mendi-
cant (begging) friars took a vow of poverty requiring that they beg for
alms to support their ministry. Among the mendicant orders the three
most famous were the Dominicans, the Augustinians, and the Franciscans.
Founded by Dominic of Calereuga in the early thirteenth century, the
Dominicans practised corporate poverty until 1475, holding only their
churches and friaries. Having begun as a movement to combat heresies,
the Dominicans pursued education at emerging universities, wrote on
theology, preached and administered confession, and served as pros-
ecutors and judges for the Papal Inquisition. Representatives of the vari-
ous houses met yearly at provincial chapters, which in turn sent
representatives to the General Chapter at Rome. The Dominicans
consistently supported papal authority in ecclesiastical policy and acted
as arbiters of orthodoxy. Modelling themselves along the lines of the
Dominicans, the Augustinian Hermits originated in Italy and received
papal sanction in 1256. The Augustinians were closely associated with
universities and urban preaching. Finally the Franciscans, founded by
Francis of Assisi in 1209, competed with the Dominicans as educators,
preachers, and confessors, and the rivalry between these orders often
soured urban religious life. The Franciscans’ commitment to the austere
poverty of their founder was their strength and weakness, as disputes
over the possession of churches and houses and even the quality of their
habit (standard clothing) divided Franciscans. In the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries, attacks on clerical wealth associated with radical
Franciscans nearly led to the order’s dissolution.
Most religious orders had female houses, whose members also followed
the rules set down by the founders. Down to the Gregorian reform era,
Benedictine abbesses exerted significant authority over their houses and
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