July 2006
Parish
History Episode 63 New Worlds
When Robert Kent was inducted in 1500 as Rector of
Houghton-le-Spring, he was probably the only man in the parish to
have the benefit of a university education. He, more probably then
any other persons in Houghton, appreciated the changes occurring in
the World: changes so fundamental that, among many other innovations,
a whole New World had been revealed to Christian eyes, just about
doubling the known surface of the Globe.
In 1492 a Spanish expedition, led by Christopher Columbus,
a Genoese navigator, had sailed due West from Spain, in the hope of
discovering Asia and the Far East, it being correctly believed that
the Portuguese, who had been creeping on year by year round the coasts
of Africa, were on the verge of completing their task, and opening
up a new route for commerce between Europe and India, a route which
did not have to pass through, and pay toll to, the Turkish Empire,
which then controlled all the coasts of the Eastern Mediterranean,
and seemed to block the direct route to India.
Columbus sailed on and on, towards the setting sun.
Some three thousand miles West of Spain, he at last reached land.
Believing it to be Asia, the Spaniards called its inhabitants “Indians”,
but in the course of the next twenty or thirty years, it became apparent
that what Columbus had discovered was a whole new continent, and that
another ocean, wider even than the Atlantic, lay between this New
World and the real Asia.
By that time, however, the Portuguese navigator Vasco
da Gama had, in 1497, reached the real India, by sailing round Africa.
He returned to Lisbon with a fleet of ships laden with spices and
other valuables. Spanish ships were, by then, returning to Cadiz,
laden with gold and silver and other precious metals.
One result of these Great Discoveries was that Western
Man, whether dwelling South or North of the Pyrenees, became a lot
more confident of his own capabilities. The enterprise, courage and
resolution of those Spanish and Portuguese seamen had achieved all
this, it might seem, without resource to the schooling of the priests
or the logic of the philosophers (though prayers and books were by
no means neglected in their enterprises). What they had achieved in
navigation, others might achieve, by their own efforts, in other fields,
and so began the first steps towards a scientific and rational view
of the world, a view which was increasingly to differentiate European
thought from the wisdom of other cultures.
It might be thought that Spain would have been at
the forefront of such developments. But, for Spain, 1492 was not only
the year in which the continent which we call America was discovered.
It was also the year when the Emirate of Granada, the last Moorish
foot·hold in Spain, fell to the Christians. And also it was
the year that the Spanish Crown decided to rid the land of all those
who did not accept the authority of the Church, who did not believe
as the Church taught. That year, all Jews were ordered to leave Spain,
or to be baptised. Ten years later, the same fate befell the Moors.
Some Moors departed for North Africa, but most accepted
baptism, and remained in Spain, and the same was also true of the
Jews. The population of Spain came now to include hundreds of thousands
of “New Christians”, persons of Moslem or Jewish origin
or descent, and there were many who doubted the sincerity of these
peoples’ conversions. To police the situation, and to punish
back-sliding, the Inquisition was given extensive powers, and the
inquisitors began a process of investigating the opinions of all those
citizens whose piety was deemed insufficient or mis-directed, questioning
them by torture, and executing those who were found not to be true
followers of Christ.
The result was that, just as the rest of Christendom
was extending its mental reach in order to comprehend new discoveries,
whether in geography or in science, the Spanish nation, which had
made so many of these discoveries, had isolated itself from much of
the benefits of the New Learning, through giving over control of the
nation’s conscience to a college of dogma-bound zealots, who
were so concerned to make sure that no false opinions were held that
it became money supply took place. Those living closest to the land,
such as the farmers and hinds of Houghton, possibly suffered least,
but those living at the end of the chain of production, such as kings,
soon found themselves in difficulties, and unable to pay for the wars
they indulged in. They soon came to look with envy on what they saw
as the wealth of the Church, and felt that it was their duty to make
use of this wealth for the good of all, for instance for paying their
soldiers. These soldiers were soon to find employment. The Italy of
this time, the centre of the movement known as the dangerous to hold
almost any opinion on any matters close to theology, philosophy or
science.
Some might have thought that Spain gained in Wealth
ample compensation for what it failed to grasp in Wisdom. It seemed
that every wind from the Indies brought back to the shores of Spain
galleons laden with treasure. But these galleons brought, not wealth,
as men at first fondly imagined, but economic problems. The influx
of gold and silver into Spain, and thence, as the Spaniards bought
commodities from abroad, into the rest of Europe, meant that it was
possible to mint many more coins, and, this being done, a great inflation
of the money supply took place. Those living closest to the land,
such as the farmers and hinds of Houghton, possibly suffered least,
but those living at the end of the chain of production, such as kings,
soon found themselves in difficulties, and unable to pay for the wars
they indulged in. They soon came to look with envy on what they saw
as the wealth of the Church, and felt that it was their duty to make
use of this wealth for the good of all, for instance for paying their
soldiers.
These soldiers were soon to find employment. The Italy
of this time, the centre of the movement known as the Renaissance
- the Rebirth of Learning - and the financial and industrial powerhouse
of Europe, was about to be disrupted by a series of wars. King Charles
VIII of France believed that he had a claim to the Throne of Naples,
then ruled by princes of the House of Aragon (in Spain), and thus
under Spanish influence, and in 1494 King Charles attempted to march
right down the length of Italy in order to make good his claim.
His army seized Florence, the wealthiest of the merchant
republics of Italy, on the way South, but had to fight hard against
the armies of the Pope of Rome (Alexander VI, a Spaniard whose personal
name, Rodrigo Borgia, has become notorious as an example of the worldliness
and corruption of the Renaissance Papacy) and of the King of Naples,
and then the Spanish Crown despatched armies to Italy to oppose the
French.
The French were soon in difficulties, and then they
lost control of Florence to a Dominican friar, a preacher called Savonarola,
who denounced the corruption of the Church of his day, and persuaded
the people of Florence to surrender thousands of works of art and
decoration, which went into “a Bonfire of the Vanities”.
When the Pope rebuked him, Savonarola denounced
the moral short-comings of the Borgia pope, who of course excommunicated
the selfrighteous friar, and then, after a party of sinful men had
succeeded in capturing Florence from Savonarola’s supporters,
the excommunicate friar was condemned as a heretic, and burnt at the
stake.
Savonarola’s brief control of Florence, the
wealthiest city in Christendom, had made news all over Europe, and
many learnèd and pious Christians were now beginning to feel
alarm: at the corruption at Rome; at the unsuccessful revolution in
Florence, and the grisly end of Savonarola; and at the increased powers
of the Inquisition, particularly in Spain, which seemed to be in danger
of smothering all debate and all piety.
And on top of that, everybody except subsistence farmers
was feeling poorer and more insecure, as the influx of gold from the
Indies sent prices soaring.
If all these factors were denting Western Man’s
new-found selfconfidence, a yet nastier shock came from the spread
of diseases in the wake of the Spanish voyages which had opened up
contacts between the Old World and the New. While the Spaniards unintentionally
exported smallpox and measles to the American Indians, which killed
them in their millions, they equally unintentionally imported syphilis
into Europe.
This new disease fell upon the gay, irresponsible,
optimistic world of the Renaissance like a Judgment from Heaven. It
spread with frightening sudden·ness throughout society, in
much the same way as AIDS has spread during the last quarter century
or so.
Syphilis first attracted attention when it became
virulent in 1494, in the camps of the Spanish army, which had landed
in Italy to oppose the French (perhaps some of the soldiers there
had sailed with Columbus two years earlier). From the weakened Spanish
army, it spread first to the Italian civil population, and then, impartially,
to the French armies opposing the Spaniards. In the following year,
when a truce was called, and many regiments were disbanded, returning
veterans brought it back to their home countries, and thence it spread
further afield, entering England in 1497. Large numbers of those afflicted
died, while those who recovered generally found themselves weakened
and scarred for life.
As with AIDS, it was realised from the first that
abstinence before marriage and faithfulness within marriage were the
only sure ways of avoiding infection. Of course, soldiers and sailors
did not live by these rules, and so their behaviour spread it all
over the known world, and moralists regularly denounced their sinful
lives. But public opinion also came to query the life-style of the
clergy. Although they took vows of celibacy, it was wellknown that
many priests were lax in their observation of that obligation: indeed,
with an example like Rodrigo Borgia (Pope Alexander VI, 1492-1503)
in the Vatican, it was not surprising to find that some parish priests
sat easily to their obligations. However, though the behaviour of
the clergy can hardly have been anything like so flagrant as that
of soldiers in camp or sailors in port, there seems to have been an
increasing tendency to blame the clergy for the spread of syphilis.
The disease spread of course to the rich and powerful
and learnèd, as well as to simple soldiers and parish priests.
Pope Julius II (1503-1513), King Henry VIII (1509-1547) and Erasmus
of Rotterdam, the hero of next month’s article, were all reputed
to have died of syphilis.
None of this led inevitably to what we call the Reformation.
But the popes and the parish priests were blamed for the horrors that
now overtook society. Of course, their behaviour was irrelevant to
the real causes of the Reformation. In Russia and the East, priests
were married, but that did not make them Protestants. Kings needed
cash, but they did not have to take it from the Church. And if they
did so, that in itself did not compel them to reform the doctrines
of the Church.
But, rightly or wrongly, that was how it was to be.
Dick
Toy
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