The annual revenues of the clergy of France were estimated by a Venetian ambassador, with unsurpassed facilities for obtaining accurate information, at six million crowns of gold, out of the fifteen millions that constituted the total revenues of the kingdom. While the clergy thus absorbed two-fifths of the whole income of France, the king was limited to one million and a half crowns, or just one-tenth, derived from his particular estates.[100]
Morals of the clergy.
Wealth had engendered luxury and vice. Engrossed in the pursuit of pleasure or personal aggrandizement, the vast majority of clergymen had lost all solicitude for the spiritual welfare of their flocks. About the middle of the century Claude Haton, curate of Mériot—certainly no friend of the reformatory movement—wrote in his Mémoires: "The more rapidly the number of heretics in France increased, the more indifferent to the discharge of their duty in their charges were the prelates and pastors of the church, from cardinals and archbishops down to the most insignificant curate. They cared little or nothing how anything went, if they could but draw the income of their benefices at whatever place of residence they had selected with a view to the promotion of their pleasure.[101] They let their benefices out at the highest rate they could get, little solicitous as to the hands they might fall into, provided only they were well paid according to the terms of the agreement. The archbishops, bishops, and cardinals of France were almost all at the court of the king and the princes. The abbots, priors and curates resided in the large cities and in other places, wherein they took more delight than within the limits of their charges and preaching the true word of God to their subjects and parishioners. From their indifference the Lutheran heretics took occasion to slander the Church of Jesus Christ and to seduce Christians from it."[102]
No regard to the spiritual wants of the people.
Such a condition of utter indifference on the part of the clergy to the interests of the souls committed to their charge cannot surprise us when we learn that benefices were conferred without regard to the wants of the people. The Venetian Soranzo, in an address delivered after the fruits of the concordat had had full time to mature,[103] declared that in the majority of cases these ecclesiastical positions were dispensed with little respect to things sacred, and through simple favor. They served as a convenient method of rewarding good services. Little account was made of the qualifications of the candidate, who might have earned his reward in the army or in the civil service. And so it often happened that he who to-day was a merchant or a soldier, to-morrow was made bishop or abbot. When, indeed, the fortunate man had a wife or was reluctant to assume the habit, he could readily get permission to place the benefice in the name of another, himself retaining the income.[104] "These new pastors," said Correro, "placed in charge of the churches men who had taken it into their heads to be clergymen only to avoid the toils of some other occupation—men who, by their avarice and dissoluteness of life, confused the innocent people and removed their previous great devotion. This was the door, this was the spacious gateway, by which heresies entered France. For the ministers sent from Geneva were easily able to create in the people a hatred of the priests and friars, by simply weighing in the balance the life led by the latter."[105]
The clergy before the concordat.
It was the fashion among those who passed for philosophers to ascribe the universal dissolution of morals among French ecclesiastics to the operation of the concordat between Francis the First and Pope Leo the Tenth, which, said they, by bringing so many bishops and other high dignitaries to the court in quest of preferment, had corrupted the characters of the prelates, while exposing their flocks to all the evils which neglect is wont to breed. Unfortunately, the portraits of the period preceding the revocation of the Pragmatic Sanction that have come down to us dispel the Arcadian simplicity of manners which seems only to have existed in the imagination of a few warm admirers of everything ancient. If the prelates of France were dissolute after the introduction of the concordat, we are assured by a writer by no means partial to the "new doctrines," that the state of affairs was no better at an earlier period. In their abbeys or bishoprics they were as debauched as those who followed arms for their profession.[106] The bishops bought their places with money, or with promises which were to be fulfilled after preferment. "And when they had attained these high dignities," he adds, "God knows what lives they led. Assuredly they were far more devoted to their dioceses than they have since been; for they never left them. But it was to lead a most dissolute life with their dogs and birds, with their feasts, banquets, marriage entertainments and courtezans, of whom they gathered seraglios.... All this was permitted, and none dared to remonstrate or utter censure. Even more could be related, which is passed over in silence through fear of creating scandal. Our present bishops, if not better men, are at least more discreet hypocrites, and more skilfully conceal their black vices."[107] Nor were the morals of the monastic orders depicted in brighter colors. "Generally the monks elected the most jovial companion, him who was the most fond of women, dogs, and birds, the deepest drinker—in short, the most dissipated; and this in order that, when they had made him abbot or prior, they might be permitted to indulge in similar debauch and pleasure. Indeed, they bound him beforehand by strong oaths, to which he was forced to conform either voluntarily or by constraint. The worst was that, when they failed to agree in their elections, they usually came to blows with fist and sword, and inflicted wounds and even death. In a word, there was more tumult, more faction and intrigue, than there is at the election of the Rector of the University of Paris."[108] It was not strange, therefore, that Francis, unable otherwise to recompense his deserving nobles, should prefer to bestow upon them rich abbeys and priories, rather than leave these to the monks in their cloisters—monks who, as the monarch used to say, "were good for nothing but to eat and drink, to frequent taverns and gamble, to twist cords for the cross-bow, set traps for ferrets and rabbits, and train linnets to whistle"—men whose idleness and other vices were so notorious that the expressions, "He is as idle as a priest or monk," and "Avaricious and lewd as a priest or monk," passed into proverbs.[109]
Aversion to the use of the French language.
Ecclesiastical teachers themselves so ignorant and corrupt could not be expected to do much for the elevation of the laity. Of popularizing knowledge, especially religious knowledge, the clergy and their adherents had little thought. Latin alone was deemed suitable for the discussion of matters of faith. It was enough to condemn the employment of French for this purpose, that it could be understood by the people. For the reformers was reserved the honor of raising the dialect of the masses to the dignity of a language fit for the highest literary uses, and of compelling even their antagonists to resort to it in self-defence, though, it must be confessed, with a very poor grace. So late as in 1558 we find a leading theologian of the Sorbonne publicly apologizing for the condescension. "Very dear friend," he writes in the address to the reader, "I doubt not that, at first sight, you will regard it as strange and perhaps very wrong that this reply is couched in the vulgar tongue; seeing that it would be much more suitable were it circulated in the Latin rather than the French tongue, inasmuch as the subject-matter consists of things greatly concerning Christian faith, which require rather to be put in Latin than in French. Of this also we have the example of the holy ancient doctors, who were always accustomed to write against heretics in Latin and not in French."[110] If such was the avowed repugnance to the use of the language of the people in the treatment of religious themes, so late as within a year of the death of Henry the Second, it may readily be conceived how deep the aversion was a generation earlier, at the first appearance of the reformation.
Ignorance of the Holy Scriptures.