8 / Renaissance and / Renaissance et Réforme

Le livre de F. Rigolot nous donne sans cesse à penser. Les désaccords que l’on peut avoir avec lui sur tel ou tel point sont dès lors sans importance. DANIEL MÉNAGER, Université de Paris X–Nanterre

Anthony Levi. Renaissance and Reformation: The Intellectual Genesis. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2002. Pp. xi, 483. Professor Levi stands in a long line of scholars who have written “out of the conviction that the phenomena we know as the renaissance and the reformation are connected” (p. xi). In the twentieth century, it seems, the pursuit of the link between these two phenomena has garnered the lion’s share of ink spilt on the early modern period, and Levi’s book admirably reacquaints students with the enterprise. But Levi goes farther in his quest than merely locating a connection between the Renaissance and the Reformation; he attempts to locate the fabled Northwest Passage, as it were — a single waterway connecting the west with the east — and here his efforts are decidedly mixed. The title itself posits a common genesis for the two phenomena, presuming that the Reformation is a natural offspring of the Renaissance, and that both spring from the loins of Ockham. According to this outlook, one could perhaps lay even the French Revolution at Ockham’s door, and a host of subsequent stepchildren instantly clamor for attention. Beginning with “The Intellectual Problem of the Middle Ages,” here summed up as the “crisis” of scholasticism that developed among a small coterie of philosophers and divines between the naturalism of Aquinas and the nominalism of Ockham in the fourteenth century, Levi concludes with the various schismatic political solutions of reformed states such as , the Swiss Confederation, and England several hundred years later. Judging from the editorializing that appears at chapter openings, as well as in the notes, the book is aimed at undergraduate historians who are looking for a single volume that provides a conceptual framework with which to investigate two extraor- dinarily complex and troubled centuries of European history. Levi’s protagonists are Ockham and . Ockham startled a compla- cent scholastic community by suggesting that, contrary to prevailing wisdom, reason does not yield positive truths about the nature of God, and it therefore cannot be used to support a Church whose leadership is, on rational grounds, indefectible. For Ockham, God is an arbitrary deity transcending the object of rational discourse: his transcendence would be “compromised” if revelation were open to rational discourse and understanding. Such a view, Levi correctly argues, brought scholastic theology “to its point of disintegration” (p. 65) and thereby created a crisis of in the Church itself. If rational investigation of Book Reviews / Comptes rendus / 9

God were no longer possible, and the religious practices and assurances which were the fruits of that system were therefore compromised, Christianity needed another way of expressing the link between morality and salvation. This link, Levi argues, was “evangelical humanism” (p. 65). So far we are on familiar ground; scholasticism has long been seen as having failed to provide a way forward for the Church, and Levi argues quite persuasively that Ockham’s nominalism was a factor in nudging theologians forward towards the biblical ethic of the sixteenth century. Historical narrative on this scale requires a disciplined focus, and Levi maintains an admirable concentration on the ideas that govern his inquiry. But there is a price, naturally, to this method: politics, economics, and human diversity, even chance — the daily grind of events — are swept into vast summaries so short that a century of political developments passes in a few pages, while a whole chapter unfolds the intricacies of Erasmus’ relationship with his printers. One can’t fault Levi’s book for being something that it’s not, but at times his thesis requires compression to the point of distortion. For example, it is one thing to note, as Levi does (p. 231), that one might see possible areas for confusion in the doctrine of , but surely the initial point of ’s protest was that this confusion was not, in fact, part of the Church’s teaching. All theologians, Luther foremost among them, agreed that contrition (by which Levi intends “moral conversion”) was necessary for a proper . Abuses lay not in the doctrine or its philosophical or theological underpinnings but in the pastoral preparation for its reception. Thus, when Levi characterizes “indulgences, chantry bequests, [and] prayers for the dead” as things “that offered posthumous privilege without requiring moral conversion” (p. 56), he creates a “doctrine” out of what is clearly an abuse of doctrine. This shorthand then justifies the return to a rigid focus on the adequacies of various philosophies, when other viewers might look for culprits in a combination of more mundane areas such as politics, economics, and even personalities. Levi doesn’t omit such details, but his cart is clearly tied to a single horse, and this produces a sort of schizophrenia: the political, cultural, and personal details matter, but not in the end. The strengths of this study are many — for one, it provides a comprehen- sive guide to the long-term effects of the breakdown of scholastic confidence. And even though nominalism was, strictly speaking, confined to the field of logic, when it spilled over into other areas — specifically theology — it produced a sea-change. Students of this period will remember the brilliant treatment of late-medieval and Renaissance religion in Trinkhaus and Ober- man’s The Pursuit of Holiness in Late Medieval and Renaissance Religion (1974), and in many ways Levi’s work is a companion piece. It fills in the broader picture — the situation in France, the machinations behind the “defeat” of Erasmian reform, the secular control of the church in England and the Swiss 10 / Renaissance and Reformation / Renaissance et Réforme

Confederation. The book is especially strong on the “crisis” of scholasticism (chapter 2) and on Erasmus’s attempt to bypass this crisis through a direct appeal to biblical norms, and one looks forward to Levi’s forthcoming biogra- phy of him. The volume features a comprehensive “thematic index” running to some forty-three pages, which includes subjects, persons, and occasionally places, but it lacks a bibliography: all references and authorities are buried in endnotes. Levi’s style is generally approachable and lucid, and frequently personal. His book is a solid and reliable single-volume history, priced affordably and containing the necessary resources for closer study of its contents. SEYMOUR BAKER HOUSE, Mount Angel Abbey and Seminary

Franz Posset. The Front-Runner of the Catholic Reformation: The Life and Work of Johann von Staupitz. St. Andrews Studies in Reformation History. Aldershot, Hants; Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2003. Pp. xxii, 398. Franz Posset, once a student in Germany of Hans Küng and Karl Rahner, holds his Ph.D. in theology from Marquette University. His “theological biography” (p. xiii) of Johann von Staupitz (b. 1463–68, d. 1524) fills a huge gap in Anglophone literature on the early Reformation and Catholic Reformation. It serves all scholars by systematically exploring Staupitz’s writings and re- corded sermons and by challenging the prevailing view of Staupitz as a “fore-runner” of the Reformation. The relatively limited nature of Staupitz’s output and the fairly simple outline of his comings and goings allow for a quite thorough treatment in a single volume. As Posset points out, the lack of critical editions of several key works prevents any attempt at a definitive biography at this time. And so he is content to provide a “preliminary synthesis” (p. xv) of Staupitz’s life and accomplishments. Posset’s work is commendable for its clarity, the careful balancing and articulation of its judgments, and the deftness with which he constructs his arguments and reminds the reader of them. All told, this biography would be an asset in any library concerned with the of the sixteenth century. Posset takes great pains to view his subject through lenses other than those provided by Staupitz’s relationship with Luther. But offering an alternative perspective proves challenging. Luther himself repeatedly credited Staupitz with having brought him to Christ. This spiritual father appears many times in Luther’s Table Talks, and these often supply necessary information for piecing together an accurate and satisfying picture of Staupitz. Posset largely succeeds in isolating the “Luther effect” by concentrating on the Augustinian connection that bound the two and that defined Staupitz’s own arena of action. Moreover,