De locis theologicis

HOW THE AUTHORITY OF HUMAN HISTORY IS SOMETIMES PROBABLE AND SOMETIMES EVEN CERTAIN

We must now explain the nature and extent of human history’s authority for theologians, as we promised to do in the second place. To make this clearer, we should begin with the claim that people must trust other people, unless they are to live like beasts. Theodoret, in libro 1 de cura Graecarum affectionum, and Augustine, in de utilitate credendi ad Honoratum capite 12, et de fide rerum inuisibilium capitibus 1 et 2, have examined this matter so carefully that we need not labor over it here. Augustine plainly asserts that not only friendship but every kind of human society would perish unless friend trusted friend, husband wife, children their parents, brothers one another, citizens their fellow citizens, and partners their associates. He offers many reasons to show that the bonds of kinship and affection, the two holiest ties of humankind, would be violated and dissolved, and nothing at all would remain intact in human society if we resolved to believe nothing we could not perceive as if we touched and held it in our hands. It is therefore necessary for human life that people trust what others say without any doubt. Theodoret also clearly proves that belief is the primary foundation of the arts and the threshold of every discipline. To say nothing of other matters, young children could acquire no elementary learning unless they trusted their teachers about the names of letters and the combinations of syllables. Thus Isaiah’s words prove true in every art and at every age: “Unless you believe, you will not understand.”

Aristotle’s famous statement is therefore right: in every field and discipline, learners ought to believe. Daily experience teaches us, without anyone’s prompting, that belief precedes knowledge and understanding, and that knowledge of truth follows belief. From this it follows that the Author of nature implanted in human minds a natural inclination to believe, since belief is as necessary to human life and learning as the uppermost place is necessary to fire or the lowest place to earth if each is to be in its proper condition. Nature has instilled in these things certain tendencies and, as it were, appetites directed toward their necessary ends and perfections. Therefore those who try to uproot human belief from people’s minds are not only foolish; like the giants, they wage war on the gods—that is, they fight against nature. Can anything be more childish and foolish than denying that things seen by others exist simply because we have not seen them ourselves? We must therefore believe, unless we wish to be more foolish still. From these premises follows the first conclusion. First conclusion: Apart from sacred authors, no historian can be certain—that is, none is capable of establishing certain proof in theology. This is so obvious and evident that it needs no argument from us. Flavius Vopiscus, with both truth and wit, said that no historian has failed to tell some lies; he therefore undertook his own history confident that he would have falsehoods for companions. Second conclusion: Serious and trustworthy historians—of whom there have certainly been some, both in the Church and in secular life—supply theologians with probable arguments, both to support their own claims and to refute their opponents’ false views. This conclusion is also clear enough in itself. A well-formed person, properly suited to human life, ought not to disbelieve a serious man who asserts something credible. I said “credible,” because Pliny and other historians, even the most distinguished, report some things that are scarcely credible. If we deny those events occurred, we do not thereby undermine the authority of history. Both the person who believes too readily and the one who is too slow to believe are rightly criticized. The latter is all the more blameworthy when disagreeing with many approved and serious historians. If every word is established on the testimony of two or three, why should a theologian reject the testimony of many witnesses who attest that the same event once occurred, in defiance of this rule? Especially since testimonies drawn from antiquity have greater power to prove a point because, as Fabius says, they alone are free from accusations of hatred and favor. Indeed, Innocent, a weighty authority, acknowledges some degree of probability in human histories: he ordered ecclesiastical judges to use their authority in settling Church cases even when other arguments were lacking. Yet many people in our day perversely, not to say shamelessly, call into question events attested by the most serious authors. If they gave sound and probable reasons, perhaps they should be heard. But since they give none, they deserve contempt: they have cast off common sense, rejected the chief instruments of human judgment—testimony—and neglected history, the teacher of life, support of prudence, and light of truth. Third conclusion: If all approved and serious historians agree on the same event, a certain argument can then be drawn from their authority, so that theological doctrines may be established on firm grounds as well.

There are many examples, but I shall give a few. All serious historians report that Peter established his see at Rome and was crowned with the glory of martyrdom for Christ. On this basis, in book 5 we established by a certain argument that the Roman bishop succeeds Peter in the pontificate. Likewise, all the most serious historians report that the Council of Nicaea was convened under Constantine by Sylvester, the true pontiff of the Church. From this we infer that the Council of Nicaea’s definitions are certain. For it is certain that a general synod of the Church, confirmed by the Roman Pontiff, cannot err; it is also certain that Nicaea was such a council, lacking neither the agreement of the whole body of the Church’s pastors nor the approval of the Roman bishop. Many other things of this kind are handed down by the common consent of historians. It is foolish not only to deny them but even to doubt them. What could be more foolish, to press the same point, than to say there are no such kinds of beasts as are born in the Red Sea or India simply because we have never seen them? Let us then abolish everything reported to us by history or by serious and approved witnesses. People living inland would then not believe that there is a sea; those born on an island where they had seen only rabbits and foxes would not believe that lions and panthers exist; and if anyone spoke of an elephant, they would think they were being mocked. We should therefore uphold the authority of history as certain when all historians agree on the same point. Among people, those things are certain that cannot be denied without obstinacy and folly. Josephus rightly said in 1 contra Appionem libro that a sure sign of historical truth is when everyone records the same things about the same events. We have said enough about this, though briefly. These few points, unless I am mistaken, make clear the nature and extent of human history’s authority. Although history, as Quintilian says, is written not to prove but to narrate, it nonetheless proves something: usually with probability, though sometimes necessarily. Let us now refute the arguments raised against the credibility of history.