PATRICK W. CAREY
President of the
American Catholic Historical Association
2001

The Catholic Historical
Review
VOL. LXXXVIII

APRIL, 2002

No. 2

POLITICAL ATHEISM: DRED SCOTT, ROGER BROOKE
TANEY, AND ORESTES A. BROWNSON
BY

PATRICK W. CAREY*

The Supreme Court’s Dred Scott decision in early March of 1857 inflamed the national debate over slavery and deepened the divide that
led ultimately to the Civil War. The decision has been analyzed repeatedly by historians and legal scholars, and has created divergent opinions on what was legally decided and what was merely obiter dictum,
and on whether the case was influenced more by politics than by law.1
Many historians claim that the decision destroyed the Chief Justice
Roger Brooke Taney’s (1777–1864)2 reputation as a legal scholar and
*Dr. Carey is a professor of theology in Marquette University. He read this paper as his
presidential address at a luncheon held in the San Francisco Hilton and Towers on Saturday, January 5, 2002, during the eighty-second annual meeting of the American Catholic
Historical Association.
1
For some of the major historical and legal opinions on Dred Scott, see Don E. Fehrenbacher, The Dred Scott Case: Its Significance in American Law and Politics (New York,
1978); idem, Slavery, Law, and Politics: The Dred Scott Case in Historical Perspective
(New York, 1981); Stanley I. Kutler (ed.), The Dred Scott Decision: Law or Politics?
(Boston, 1967); Walter Ehrlich, They Have No Rights: Dred Scott’s Struggle for Freedom
(Westport, Connecticut, 1979); Paul Finkelman, Dred Scott v. Sandford: A Brief History
with Documents (Boston,1997);Vincent C.Hopkins,Dred Scott’s Case (New York,1951);
Martin Siegel, The Taney Court 1836–1864, volume 3 of The Supreme Court in American Life (New York, 1987), pp. 205–206; R. Kent Newmyer, The Supreme Court under
Marshall and Taney (1968; Arlington Heights, Illinois, 1986). For the contemporary legal
relevance of the opinion, see Cass R. Sunstein,“Dred Scott v. Sandford and Its Legacy,” in
Great Cases in Constitutional Law, ed. Robert P. George (Princeton, 2000), pp. 64–90; see
also James M. McPherson’s response to Sunstein, ibid., pp. 90–94.
2
For useful biographical information on Taney see Samuel Tyler, Memoir of Roger
Brooke Taney (1872; New York, 1970); Carl Brent Swisher, Roger B. Taney (New York,
1935); Charles W. Smith, Roger B. Taney: Jacksonian Jurist (Chapel Hill, North Carolina,

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POLITICAL ATHEISM: DRED SCOTT, ROGER BROOKE TANEY, AND ORESTES A. BROWNSON

weakened the authority of the Supreme Court in its immediate aftermath. Little noticed in the literature on the case is the debate that took
place in the American Catholic community after the decision. Contemporaries and historians alike at times called attention to the fact that
Taney was a Maryland Catholic, and some anti-Catholic religious newspaper editors in the North singled out his religious identification as one
of the reasons for his ex cathedra decision in favor of slavery. On the
whole, though, few contemporaries or historians paid any attention to
the divergent American Catholic reactions to the decision, nor to the
debate among Catholic journalists and newspaper editors on the wider
issue of the relationship of religion and politics that the decision triggered in the Catholic community.This paper focuses upon the religious
issue that some Catholics saw in Dred Scott.
In 1846 Dred Scott, a slave living in St. Louis, maintained in a Missouri
state court that he, his wife, and his two children were legally entitled
to their freedom because they had sojourned in a free state (Illinois)
and in free territory (Minnesota). In 1854 Scott’s suit for freedom was
brought before the United States Supreme Court asking for a reversal of
a District Court’s decision declaring him still a slave. The case was argued and reargued before the Supreme Court in 1856, and, after the
March, 1857, inauguration of Democrat James Buchanan as president of
the United States,the Court announced its decision.Taney delivered the
opinion of the Court in Dred Scott v. Sandford,3 arguing that Scott was
not only a slave but that he was also not a citizen of the United States
and therefore could not legitimately sue in a federal court of law,that no
Negro (free or slave) could be a citizen of the United States, and that
Congress had no power to prohibit slavery in the territories (and, thus,
the Missouri Compromise of 1820 was unconstitutional). Two of the
nine justices, Justices John McLean and Benjamin R. Curtis, offered extensive and vigorous dissenting opinions. The decision was well received by the majority in the South, the pro-slavery part of the
Democratic party, and a few editors of Democratic papers in the North.
It was rejected and attacked by the newly organized Republican party,
1936); Walker Lewis, Without Fear or Favor:A Biography of Chief Justice Roger Brooke
Taney (Boston, 1965). For an abolitionist’s fiercely critical assessment of Taney’s career,
see The Unjust Judge: A Memorial of Roger Brooke Taney, Late Chief Justice of the
United States (New York, 1865). On Charles Sumner as the possible anonymous author of
the Unjust Judge, see Walker Lewis, pp. 477–492; but David Donald, Charles Sumner and
the Rights of Man (New York, 1970), p. 193n, was not convinced by Lewis’ evidence on
Sumner’s authorship.
3
19 Howard, 393 (1857).

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209

the abolitionists, a significant number of editors of religious newspapers in the North, and by anti-slavery Democrats.
The American Catholic community, too, was divided in reacting to
the decision. The primary issues for those Catholics who expressed an
opinion about the case revolved around the arguments and language
Taney used to declare that the Constitution did not intend to include
Negroes as citizens of the United States. He based his view upon an historical interpretation of attitudes toward Negroes, arguing that the original intent of the Declaration of Independence and the United States
Constitution, when interpreted within the context of the times in
which they were written, excluded Negroes from citizenship—they
were not conceived of by the founding Fathers as part of the “people of
the United States.” Otherwise, there would be a complete disjunction
between what they articulated in those documents and their practices
of slavery.
Taney asserted that racial attitudes were almost universally present at
the time the Constitution was formed. In forceful language he argued:
We think they [Negroes] are not, and that they are not included, and were
not intended to be included, under the word “citizens”in the Constitution,
and can therefore claim none of the rights and privileges which that instrument provides for and secures to citizens of the United States. On the
contrary, they were at that time considered as a subordinate and inferior
class of beings,who had been subjugated by the dominant race,and whether
emancipated or not, yet remained subject to their authority, and had no
rights or privileges but such as those who had held the power and the
Government might choose to grant them.4

The Court’s duty, Taney continued, was to interpret the intent of the
Constitution and not to decide the justice of this characterization of the
founders’ attitudes. It was the role of the legislative, not the judicial,
branch of government “to decide upon the justice or injustice, the policy or impolicy” of the laws.
The language of the Declaration of Independence, furthermore,
needed to be understood within this same historical context. That
“memorable instrument” reflected the values of the times in which it
was written,meaning that the authors had no intention of including Negroes “as a part of the people.” For Taney the history of late-eighteenthcentury attitudes was binding upon interpreters of the instruments that
were produced then.
Ibid., pp. 404–405.

4

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POLITICAL ATHEISM: DRED SCOTT, ROGER BROOKE TANEY, AND ORESTES A. BROWNSON

It is difficult at this day to realize the state of public opinion in relation to
that unfortunate race, which prevailed in the civilized and enlightened
portions of the world at the time of the Declaration of Independence, and
when the Constitution of the United States was framed and adopted. But
the public history of every European nation displays it in a manner too
plain to be mistaken.5

Negores, whether slave or free, were regarded as an inferior race, and, in
fact,“so far inferior, that they had no rights which the white man was
bound to respect.” The Negro was regarded simply as “an ordinary article of merchandise and traffic.” And these attitudes were axiomatic in
morals as well as in politics.No one thought of disputing them,and they
became a daily part of one’s private life as well as institutionalized in
public life. These opinions, Taney asserted, were “at that time fixed and
universal in the civilized portion of the white race.”6
Taney did not say whether he agreed with these attitudes or not. He
was simply trying to interpret original intent. But in fact his decision
supported the slavery party in the United States and reflected the tradition in which he had been born and raised as a Marylander and as a
Catholic. His historical interpretation itself was conditioned by his
background, religious as well as cultural and political.
Taney’s own background, though, contains something of a mixed
message with regard to slavery. He grew to manhood on his father’s
Maryland plantation; he was personally acquainted with the slaves of
the plantation, and when he reached his maturity he inherited ten
slaves from his father. He was raised a Catholic, and his Maryland
Catholic religion offered no opposition to owning slaves. In fact, the
Maryland Jesuits and various orders of women religious owned slaves
until the mid 1830’s.7 Being a practicing Catholic, which he was
throughout his life, did not in his experience contradict slave ownership.
There are some things in the young lawyer’s life prior to the 1830’s,
though, that indicate some discomfort with the practice of slavery. His
own personal attitudes toward Negro slaves could be described as
Ibid., p. 407.
Ibid.
7
In 1855 an anonymous author wrote “The Catholic Church and the Question of Slavery,” Metropolitan Magazine (Baltimore), 3 ( June, 1855), 265–273, that outlined a dominant view of slavery in American Catholicism. Father John T. Roddan, editor of the Boston
Pilot, reprinted the essay on the front page of his Boston Pilot, 19 (September 20, 1856),
1. The author claimed that it “was not a sin forbidden by the law of God to hold a fellow
man in bondage.”
5

6

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211

benevolent paternalism.In an 1857 letter8 to Samuel Nott (1788–1869)—
a Congregational minister in Wareham, Massachusetts, who after Dred
Scott had sent Taney a pamphlet9 he wrote on slavery—Taney indicated
that he had inherited ten slaves from his father and had emancipated
seven in 1818 and one in 1821; two of the remaining slaves were too
old and sick to care for themselves. His elderly slaves he supported “in
comfort”for the remainder of their lives.The others,once emancipated,
used their freedom effectively to sustain themselves and live responsible and worthwhile lives. He may not have needed slaves as a lawyer,
but he could have sold them instead of emancipating them.
Prior to the rise of Northern abolitionism, moreover, the lawyer
Taney on different occasions defended a Negro, served as counsel for a
slaveholder, and advocated the case of an abolitionist minister. In 1809,
for example,Taney petitioned unsuccessfully the Maryland Court of Appeals to arrest the judgment of a lower Maryland county that a Negro
(Burk) was guilty of raping a White girl.10 On the other hand, in 1827 he
helped defend an alleged slave-trader, John Gooding, before the United
States Supreme Court.11 In both instances he may have been simply fulfilling his duties as a lawyer, and the cases reveal little or nothing about
his attitudes toward slavery. In 1819, however, he defended an abolitionist Methodist minister, Jacob Gruber, who had been accused of inciting slaves to rebellion. The Gruber case is significant because Taney
revealed something of his own views of slavery in the course of the
trial, unlike the other two cases in which his own personal views are
hidden under a host of legal technicalities upon which the cases were
tried.
Gruber,a Pennsylvania minister,had preached at a revival camp meeting in Maryland at which slaves as well as their White masters and others were present. In the course of his preaching, he gave a rousing
denunciation of slavery, after which he was indicted under a Maryland
law for inciting slaves to riot. Taney was called upon to defend Gruber
in the Frederick, Maryland County Court. He argued the case before the
Court in March of 1819 on the grounds that there was no evidence to
indicate that Gruber intended to incite a slave rebellion. He also upheld
Gruber’s right to preach on the grounds of the first amendment. But he
8
Taney to Samuel Nott,August 10,1857,published in the Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, 12 (1871–1873), 445–447.
9
Samuel Nott, Slavery, and the Remedy; or Principles and Suggestions for a Remedial
Code, 5th edition (New York and Boston, 1857).
10
Burk v. State 2 Harris and Johnson, 426–435 (Md., 1809).
11
United States v. Gooding, 12 Wheaton, 460 (1827).

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POLITICAL ATHEISM: DRED SCOTT, ROGER BROOKE TANEY, AND ORESTES A. BROWNSON

went beyond the simple right of free speech in arguing the case. He
also gave the reasons why Gruber opposed slavery and its many cruelties, and then asserted his own view, saying:
we are prepared to maintain the same principles [as Gruber], and to use,
if necessary, the same language here, in the temple of justice and in the
presence of those who are the ministers of the law. A hard necessity, indeed, compels us to endure the evil of slavery for a time. It was imposed
upon us by another nation while we were yet in a state of colonial vassalage. It cannot be easily or suddenly removed. Yet, while it continues, it
is a blot on our national character, and every real lover of freedom confidently hopes that it will effectually, though it must be gradually, wiped
away, and earnestly looks for the means by which this necessary object
may be best attained.12

Taney won the case. Gruber was acquitted.
The views Taney articulated here could be perceived as contrary to
the sentiments that were expressed in Dred Scott. His personal views,
however, were not attempts to interpret the law or the Constitution of
the United States.In legal decisions,from the time he was Attorney General of the United States (1831) until Dred Scott he had supported slav12
The original description of the case was published by Jacob Gruber and David Martin as Trial of the Rev. Jacob Gruber, Minister in the Methodist Episcopal Church at the
March Term, 1819, in Frederick County Court, for a Misdemeanor (Fredericktown,
Maryland, 1819), p. 43. It is evident from reading this record of the trial that the three
lawyers (Taney, David Martin, and a Mr. Pigman) were chosen not just to defend Gruber,
but to act as his spokesmen against slavery.The trial thus became, probably at Gruber’s insistence, an occasion for an indictment of slavery and not just a defense of Gruber’s innocence of any intent to stir up rebellion among the slaves. All three lawyers for the
defense gave long arguments against slavery and pointed out its evils as a national sin (the
theme of Gruber’s original sermon). The published account of the trial, moreover, contained a photo of anti-slavery advocate Frederick Douglass, reinforcing the anti-slavery dimension of the trial. See also “The Trial of the Rev. Jacob Gruber for Inciting Slaves to
Insurrection and Rebellion. Frederick County, Maryland, 1819,” in American State Trials,
17 vols. (St. Louis, 1914–1936), I, 88. Parts of the trial were also quoted in Samuel Tyler, op.
cit., pp. 130–131. One of Taney’s harshest critics also quoted this Gruber case with favorable comment, but only to point out Taney’s fall from his original just sentiment against
slavery.On this see The Unjust Judge,pp.8–10.Don E.Fehrenbacher,op.cit.,p.560n,does
not buy the argument that Taney was ever personally opposed to slavery, but Fehrenbacher discounts evidence from the trial without examining it, and in fact gives a wrong
date (1818) for the trial. Fehrenbacher is too strong in asserting Taney’s pro-slavery convictions. At the least, the early Taney, as this trial shows, was personally opposed to the
continuation of slavery, but he could not decide how best to end it. Fehrenbacher is correct, though, in asserting that Taney’s legal decisions after 1830 were indeed pro-slavery.
I believe a change took place in Taney’s stance toward slavery after the 1830 rise of abolitionism, as I argue above.

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213

ery as a municipal law of the land.13 One thing seems clear, though:
there was a definite change in his public statements on slavery after the
Gruber case of 1819. One could suggest that his post-1830 legal support for slavery after the Gruber case was probably a Southern reaction
to the rise of abolitionism and the national conflict over the peculiar institution. His views hardened as he got older, not so much because of
age as because changing circumstances in the nation called for a defense of the institution that came under increasing attack, and he could
not, like many Southerners, figure out a way of gradually eliminating the
system without destroying Southern culture. Once the evil system had
become a part of the culture, it was difficult, if not impossible, to remove it without removing a way of life associated with it. In his 1857
letter to Nott he stressed the point by saying:“Every intelligent person
whose life has been passed in a slaveholding State, and who has carefully observed the character and capacity of the African race, will see
that a general and sudden emancipation would be absolute ruin to the
Negroes, as well as to the white population.”14
Taney’s decision, and the language and arguments he used to support
it, evoked differing American Catholic assessments of the role Taney’s
religion should have played in the decision, and more generally created
varying Catholic interpretations of the proper relationship between religion and politics in American society.
The first Catholic reaction to Dred Scott, as far as I am aware, was
Orestes A. Brownson’s “The Slavery Question Once More.”15 In April of
1857, Brownson had read only newspaper reports of Taney’s decision,
but he had read Justice John McClean’s dissenting opinion, which was
published in the New York Herald. Brownson’s article articulated his
long-standing agreement with many constitutional and legal elements in
the decision and then took issue with Taney’s denial of citizenship to all
Negroes.Brownson had consistently opposed slavery throughout his life,
but since 1838 he had also supported the state rights section of the Democratic party. For Brownson that meant that slavery was protected under
municipal law and the states alone had the right to retain or abolish the
law. But, by 1857 he was becoming increasingly concerned about the
13
On his legal decisions prior to Dred Scott, see Charles W. Smith, op. cit., pp. 147–154,
and R. Kent Newmyer, op. cit., pp. 119–147.
14
Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, 12 (1871–1873), 445.
15
Brownson’s Quarterly Review, 19 (April, 1857), 248–277. See also Henry F. Brownson
(ed.), The Works of Orestes A. Brownson (20 vols.; Detroit, 1882–1887), XVII, 77–94. I use
citations from Brownson’s Works in this paper.

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POLITICAL ATHEISM: DRED SCOTT, ROGER BROOKE TANEY, AND ORESTES A. BROWNSON

growing influence of the slavery monopoly upon the federal government (the slavery interest,he asserted,was as dangerous to the operation
of the federal government as was the bank interest in the 1830’s—and he
had consistently opposed both monopolies). In a January, 1857, article,
“Slavery and the Incoming Administration,”16 he warned the Buchanan
administration that if it buckled under to the slavery lobby, his administration would lose any opportunity to govern the bifurcated country effectively. Some in the South thought that that warning put Brownson on
the side of the Black Republicans, that is, the anti-slavery party. But
Brownson was not an abolitionist. Since 1838 he had turned against the
abolitionist movement on legal,moral,economical,and political grounds.
Before Dred Scott, Brownson had opposed slavery on moral and religious grounds, rejected abolitionism on legal and constitutional grounds,
supported legalized slavery on the basis of positive law, and disapproved the federal government’s involvement in the slavery issue on
the grounds of state rights. In all of these issues he had hoped to support the Union of the states. He agreed with those elements of Dred
Scott, therefore, that denied Congress the right to legislate on slavery.
Like the Court, he also regarded the Missouri Compromise as unconstitutional. If Congress had the authority to legislate on slavery, it could allow as well as prohibit slavery, and Brownson saw in the Constitution
no expressed articulation of Congress’s powers over slavery, with the
exception of the fugitive slave law.
Brownson asserted, though, that slavery had no legal or constitutional
status in the territories. It existed only by municipal (state) law, and such
laws did not and could not exist in territories.He admitted the legal existence of slavery only in those states where municipal law supported the
institution; it did not and could not exist in the territories because the
federal government had no such jurisdiction over the territories. Slaves
were property, therefore, only where municipal law defined them as
such. In the free states and in the territories of the United States, no one
could be considered as legal property of another person and no one
could be treated as property. Natural law, the law prior to all positive or
conventional law, prohibited property in slaves. Slaves, therefore, ceased
to be property when transferred out of the jurisdiction of municipal law.
Brownson was a state rights Democrat, but he did not understand slavery in the same way as did the ardent Southern state rights advocates.
“They held and hold that slavery may go wherever it is not forbidden by

Brownson’s Quarterly Review, 19 ( January, 1857), 89–114, and Works, XVII, 54–77.

16

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215

municipal law; we, that it can go only where authorized by municipal
law, or municipal usage having the force of law.”17
The crucial issue in Dred Scott for Brownson was the Court’s denial
of citizenship to all Negroes. Taney rested the Court’s opinion, Brownson rightly asserted, upon his historical assessment of the founders’ attitudes toward Negroes at the time the Constitution was written. Even if
Taney’s description of the historical attitudes toward Negroes was accurate, a fact Brownson was not willing to grant, those attitudes had
nothing to do with the Constitution itself. The Constitution was silent
on Negro citizenship, and did not manifest those attitudes Taney attributed to it; nor were those attitudes acknowledged by federal laws. As to
the fact,Taney,as a Catholic,ought to have known that at the time of the
Constitution there were indeed voices that supported the equal dignity
of all human beings and protested against the enslavement of Africans.
Popes since 1482, Brownson asserted, had outlawed “on pain of excommunication, the reduction of African Negroes to slavery.”18 The arguments Taney made were faulty in fact as well as in reasoning. In
developing arguments for the decision, moreover, he in fact contradicted fundamental Catholic teaching.
We regret that in giving the opinion of the court the learned judge did not
recollect what he is taught by his religion, namely, the unity of the race,
that all men by the natural law are equal, and that negroes are men, and
therefore as to their rights must be regarded as standing on the same footing with white men, where there is no positive or municipal law that degrades them. Here is what we dare maintain is the error of the court. . . .
The opinion of the court belongs to an epoch prior to the introduction of
Christianity, and is more in accordance with the teaching of Aristotle than
with that of the Gospel. . . . The court should lean to the side of the weak,
and set its face against oppression. The Negro race is, no doubt, inferior to
the white race, but is that a reason why they should be enslaved, or why
the court should join the stronger against the weaker?19

Brownson regretted that Taney did not act according to a Catholic
conscience.20 The implication here, made explicit later, was that Taney
Works, XVII, 84.
Brownson was not historically accurate here. For an historical assessment of fifteenth- and early sixteenth-century papal perspectives on slavery, see David Brion Davis,
The Problem of Slavery in Western Culture (Ithaca, New York, 1966), pp. 98–111, especially 100–101.
19
ibid., pp. 92–93. Brownson periodically repeated this same charge against Taney. See,
for example,“Politics at Home,” July, 1860, in Works, XVII, 108–109.
20
The author of the Unjust Judge, pp. 61–62, made a similar charge, noting that Pope
Leo X had opposed slavery on the grounds of nature and revealed religion.
17

18

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POLITICAL ATHEISM: DRED SCOTT, ROGER BROOKE TANEY, AND ORESTES A. BROWNSON

had separated his religious views from his political and constitutional
views. He took his language and his arguments from the culture when
he could have, and indeed should have, taken his language and arguments from the natural law and his religious tradition in such a fundamental question as the equality of all human beings. To interpret the
Constitution, when the language of the Constitution itself was not explicit on the subject of Negro citizenship, one could legitimately use
the language and arguments of the natural law and the religious tradition. Nothing in the Constitution itself prohibited such an interpretation. One need not, and indeed should not, base one’s interpretation
upon the historical and cultural attitudes that violated the law of nature
and revealed religion. In effect, Taney made the cultural mores binding
upon his interpretation of the Constitution. Had his Catholic rather
than his Southern conscience come to the fore in articulating the opinion of the court, his arguments would never have denied citizenship to
free Negroes where municipal law did not prohibit such. Instead he
chose arguments and evidence for his interpretation that came not directly from the Constitution but from his culturally conditioned past.
His own religious tradition, as Brownson interpreted that tradition, had
no influence on his interpretation.
The Court’s decision, Brownson predicted, would solve nothing in
the country;in fact,it would only provide new fire to the anti-slavery agitation and bring on the conflagration of the nation. The dissent by the
“ablest judges of the North,”moreover,would deprive the decision of all
moral force. He saw only trouble ahead.
Brownson predicted rightly, but he did not see his own reactions to
Taney’s decision as a part of the subsequent problem within the
Catholic community. Even before Brownson wrote against Taney, he had
received from John Carroll Walsh, a non-slaveholding Maryland Catholic
gentleman,a letter protesting Brownson’s January,1857,“Slavery and the
Incoming Administration,” an article that was bitterly resented in the
South and that Walsh considered “erroneous,” particularly in light of
Dred Scott.21 Walsh wrote to Brownson shortly after the decision was released and asserted that Taney’s decision was now the law of the land
and should settle the issue of slavery. Walsh complained,too,that Brownson’s article would be interpreted by non-Catholic Southerners as the
Catholic opinion and thus identify the Catholic Church with the “Free

21
Walsh to Brownson, March 10, 1857, in Brownson Papers, Archives of the University
of Notre Dame. Letter also published in Henry Brownson, Orestes A. Brownson’s Later
Life, 1856–1876 (Detroit, 1900), pp. 103–108.

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217

Soil doctrines”and Northern abolitionist positions.Most Southerners did
not understand Brownson’s “religious individualism,” meaning by that
phrase, I presume, that he had no official capacity to articulate the
Catholic view of things. Brownson’s view, Walsh regretted, would reinforce charges that Know-Nothings had recently brought against Southern Catholics, namely, “that the Catholic Church was inimical to the
institution of Negro slavery, and that it was part of its Jesuitical policy to
conceal its enmity for motives of expediency.” What made Brownson’s
article so disconcerting to Southern Catholics was the fact that they had
repeatedly cited canons of the Church, decrees of its councils, and writings of theologians to show that Catholics did not oppose slavery. “Altho’ not owning or even expecting to own a slave,” Walsh went on,“I
have yet to learn either from my church or any other source that slavery
as it exists in this country is an evil or a curse.” Experience, too, taught
him that African Americans were inferior to Whites and should occupy
the lower regions of society and “for the good of society be under the
control of the superior race.” Our laws in favor of slavery, furthermore,
“do not violate any right human or divine; the Church recognizes them
to the fullest extent, considers them perfectly consistent with the decrees of the Almighty,”and would not want its children to oppose the extension of slavery into the territories or new states because it does not
see slavery itself as an evil or a curse. The Church rejected only slavery
among equals. Although Walsh respected Brownson and his useful pen,
he declared his position “wrong” and begged him to correct his error.
Dred Scott had settled the issue of slavery in the territories, and Walsh
expected Brownson to abide by the decision.He ended his long letter by
imploring Brownson to refrain from discussing the whole issue of slavery in his Quarterly because the issue proved to be the “source of such
bitter and angry feelings” between those who should be brothers in the
Church. Walsh, like most other Southerners, must have been bitterly disappointed by Brownson’s criticisms of Taney’s decision.
After Brownson’s April article a host of Catholic newspapers came
out against Brownson and in favor of Dred Scott and Taney. Many
Catholic editors were particularly incensed by the opposition that
Northern Protestant preachers had voiced from their pulpits and press
against the decision. They saw such dissent as typical of the Protestant
principle of private interpretation,applied to civil as well as religious affairs, and as anarchical in society as in religion. They argued, furthermore, that the Catholic position was to respect all constituted
authorities,in state as in church. With respect to Taney,many editors believed, as the Baltimore Catholic Mirror put it, that although Taney was

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POLITICAL ATHEISM: DRED SCOTT, ROGER BROOKE TANEY, AND ORESTES A. BROWNSON

personally opposed to slavery, he had the duty to abide by his oath and
interpret the Constitution “by its true letter and spirit.”22
The editor of the Baltimore Metropolitan23 came to Taney’s defense
in reaction to Brownson’s criticisms. Brownson’s article, the editor
wrote, tended to weaken law and order in society, and to diminish the
respect that was due a decision of the Court that had authoritatively settled a “vexed and unhappy question.”24 Brownson undermined the authority of the Court by questioning the moral force of the decision. He
not only set himself up as a “super-Supreme Court of Appeals” but as an
ecclesiastical judge by interpreting Taney’s decision as a “rebellion
against the authority of the Church.”25 Requiring a judge to abide by
Catholic doctrine, the editor maintained, was full of disastrous consequences.“If he [Brownson] is right in requiring a Catholic judge to regulate his decisions, not by the law which he has sworn to administer,
but by something outside of it and above it, which his Church is supposed to teach—then the opponents of his Church may have the right
to treat the errors of the judge as the errors of his religion, and to regard
him as unfitted, by professing it, to occupy his judicial station.” In fact,
the editor argued, the Church does not dictate what a judge may or may
not hold; she “neither legislates for the legislator, nor adjudicates for the
judge. She consecrates the principle of inviolability within her own
sphere, by leaving inviolate the functions and duties of the civil magistrate.” The Catholic judge, as judge, is independent of the Church. The
Church, too,“provides no loop-holes by which a man may escape from
the discharge of an official duty.”26 The editor was saying in effect that
the Catholic judge,like all judges,was to do his duty by following the directives and principles and methods of his own office, not by bringing
his religion to bear upon his official duties. He ended his article by saying that Brownson was setting a bad example by arguing with the
Court. If someone as generally conservative as Brownson could dissent
from the Court’s decision, what could one expect from the abolitionists
and radicals in the country? The times were bad indeed if even
Catholics added to the divisions in the country by creating dissensions
within the Catholic community.
Judge Taney and his Libelers,” Catholic Mirror, April 25, 1857, p. 3.
”Dr.Brownson and the Supreme Court of the United States,”The Metropolitan, 5 (May,
1857), 209–215.
24
Ibid., p. 211.
25
Ibid., p. 213.
26
Ibid., p. 214.
22
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219

James McMaster, Catholic editor of the New York Freemans’ Journal
and an old Brownson foe, saw almost any criticism of the Court as tantamount to treason. Under the heading of “More Protestant Treason,” he
criticized two New York Protestant abolitionist ministers, Henry Ward
Beecher (1813–1887) and George Barrell Cheever (1807–1890),27 who
had assailed the decision as a violation of divine law and sovereignty.
Their attacks upon the Court put the Protestant pulpit in conflict “with
the laws and tribunals of the country.”28 He was not quite as harsh with
Brownson as he was with the Protestant ministers,but he found Brownson’s opposition to the decision “unconvincing.” Although he, like
Brownson, was not an advocate of slavery, he thought the Court was
within the parameters of its constitutional obligation when it decided
the way it did.29 “The ground of right and justice which sustains our
own laws is that the slaveholder has a claim to the service of his slave
recognized by the law of God, and by the law of the land.” He considered Brownson’s distinction between the natural right to property and
the municipal right to property in human beings to be a pure abstraction. Brownson, moreover, had misapplied universal principles to this
practical question of slavery and Negro citizenship. His articles on slavery were not calculated to do any good. McMaster ended by denying
that Brownson’s interpretation should be taken “as the Catholic view of
the Slavery Question, or as true deductions from Catholic principles. As
such they will never be accepted.”30
In Philadelphia the editor of the Catholic Herald and Visitor likewise
gave a brief notice to the Supreme Court decision in March of 1857, ad27
Cheever also had assaulted Taney’s religion when he preached against Dred Scott,saying that Taney’s decision was “of a piece with that religion which had always been accustomed to anathematize races wholesale.” See Baltimore Catholic Mirror’s review,
March 28, 1857, pp. 4–5, of Cheever’s “The Judgment of the Word of God in Condemnation of the Recent Decision in the United States Supreme Court Against the African
Race in this Country.” A Sermon delivered in New York, March 15th, 1857. I could not
find the sermon, but the exact quotation is from Cheever’s “Wickedness of the Decision
in the Supreme Court Against the African Race,” The Independent (New York), 9 (March
19, 1857), 1. For a report on this sermon and three others Cheever preached against Dred
Scott, see “Dred Scott in the Pulpit,”New York Evening Express, March 16, 1857, p. 1;“Dred
Scott in the Church of the Puritans,” ibid., March 23, 1857, p. 1;“Dred Scott in the Pulpit,”
ibid., March 30, 1857, p. 1;“Higher Law Theology,” ibid., April 6, 1857, p. 1.
28
”More Protestant Treason,” New York Freeman’s Journal, 17 (April 4, 1857), 4.
29
McMaster admitted,“Never have we been, never will we be, the advocate of slavery in
any of its forms.” See “The Slavery Question Settled by the Supreme Court of the United
States,” ibid., 17 (March 11, 1857), 4.
30
”Brownson’s Quarterly Review—April 1857,” ibid., 17 (April 11, 1857), 4.

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POLITICAL ATHEISM: DRED SCOTT, ROGER BROOKE TANEY, AND ORESTES A. BROWNSON

vising Catholics to “obey the decision” and consider the Supreme
Court’s ruling the law of the land. He admonished his readers to accept
the teaching of legitimate civil authority and to see its decision as “part
of the Constitution of the country”superseding all opinions on the subject.31 After reading Brownson’s negative reaction to the arguments on
citizenship,he told his readers that he regretted that Brownson referred
to Taney’s religion. “Chief Justice Taney sits upon the bench of the
Supreme Court to decide questions according to the Constitution and
laws and ordinances of the United States, and not according to the rules
of the Council of Trent.”32 Taney’s religion, the editor implied, had nothing to do with his duties as judge.
The debate was on.33 In subsequent issues of his Quarterly, Brownson returned again and again to the Taney decision as one particular illustration of what he called “political atheism.” That concept, although
maybe not the term, he shared with other mid-nineteenth-century theologians.34 He saw political atheism as a general trend in the Western
world since the time of Gallicanism and particularly since the eigh”Who Are Citizens?” ibid., 25 (March 14, 1857), 84.
”Brownson’s Quarterly Review for April,” Catholic Herald and Visitor, 25 (April 18,
1857), 125.
33
Many of the Catholic newspapers that drew attention to the Dred Scott decision supported Judge Taney and the decision: see, besides the others mentioned above, “U.S.
Supreme Court Assailed,” Boston Pilot, 20 (March 21, 1857), 4;“Assaults on the Decision,”
ibid., 20 (March 28, 1857), 5;“The U.S. Judiciary,” ibid., 20 (April 4, 1857), 4;“The U.S. Judiciary,” ibid., 20 (April 25, 1857), 4;“The Dred Scott Decision,” ibid., 20 (May 30, 1857), 4;
“Judge Taney and His Libellers [sic],” United States Catholic Miscellany, 36 (April 25,
1857), 325;“The Supreme Court and the Protestant Pulpit,” Catholic Mirror (March 28,
1857), 4–5;“History of the Dred Scott Case,” Catholic Mirror, April 4, 1857, p. 2. See also
other opponents of Brownson’s article against Taney in: “Brownson’s Review,” Boston
Pilot, 20 (April 11, 1857), 4. With the exception of the Pittsburgh Catholic, 14 (April 11,
1857), 44–45, which briefly mentioned it without comment, other Catholic papers (e.g.,
Le Propagateur catholique and the New York Tablet) paid no attention to Brownson’s
April article on Dred Scott.
34
See, for example, Horace Bushnell, Nature and the Supernatural (1858; New York,
1973), pp. 26–27, who, like Brownson, opposed any notion of government being founded
on a social compact.According to Bushnell,the social compact theory “has the advantage,
nevertheless, of accounting for the political state, atheistically, under mere nature.” He believed that Americans were drawn to this theory that he considered a form of naturalism:
“A social compact, popular sovereignty, the will of the people, any thing that has an atheistic jingle in the sound and stops in the plane of mere nature best satisfies us [Americans].”See also George Barrell Cheever, The Curse of God Against Political Atheism: with
some of the lessons of the tragedy at Harper’s Ferry. A Discourse delivered in the
Church of the Puritans, New York, on Sabbath evening, Nov. 6, 1859 (Boston, 1859).
31

32

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221

teenth century; it was evident in American society and had invaded the
American Catholic community as was especially apparent in many
American Irish-Catholic politicians. Brownson used the term “political
atheism”to describe the separation of religious principles from political
and social questions, or, more broadly the segregation of religion and
politics. The attitude was expressed popularly by the question,“what
has my religion to do with my politics?” Irish Catholic politicians, in
Brownson’s view, were the ones most apt to express the issue in this
way. “My political opinions and conduct are my own, dictated by my
own sense of justice and expediency, not by my church or my clergy,
whose functions are purely spiritual, and who have no authority in the
temporal order.”35 The fundamental separation, not just distinction, of
the temporal and spiritual orders of existence was what constituted
political atheism for Brownson. He saw the attitude as an unjustified interpretation of the first amendment but consistent with political Gallicanism in France and the secularizing philosophies of the eighteenth
century.Brownson supported the first amendment,religious liberty,and
the separation of church and state, but that separation was a constitutional reality, not a theological one. He protested against a view that he
believed made the political world itself autonomous:“The separation of
church and state in our age means not merely the separation of the
church and state as corporations or governments, which the popes
have always insisted on, but the separation of political principles from
theological principles, and the subjection of the church and ecclesiastical affairs to the state.”36
Even prior to his radical “Laboring Classes” essay in July of 1840,37
Brownson had been protesting against the separation of religious principles from economics, literature, and political thought and practice.After 1843, moreover, he had been trying to develop what he called a
synthetic philosophy or a synthetic theology of life. Such a view was
the foundation of his criticisms of the cultural tendency to separate religious principles from significant areas of human life. Political atheism
was diametrically opposed to this synthetic philosophy. For him the
“natural and supernatural, nature and grace, reason and faith, earth and
heaven, are not antagonistic forces, to be reconciled only by the suppression of the one or the other, but really parts of one dialectical
Works, XI, 378
Ibid., XIII, 133.
37
Boston Quarterly Review, 3 ( July, 1840), 358–395.
35
36

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POLITICAL ATHEISM: DRED SCOTT, ROGER BROOKE TANEY, AND ORESTES A. BROWNSON

whole, which, to the eye that can take in the whole in all its parts, and
all the parts in the whole, in which they are integrated, would appear
perfectly consistent with each other, living the same life in God, and directed by him to one and the same end.”38 Although these orders of life
were distinguished, they were never separated in principle. They existed in synthetic harmony in the life of God, and union with God was
their end. It was within such a philosophical and theological context
that Brownson discussed with fellow Catholics Dred Scott.
One of Brownson’s most extensive treatments of the issue took place
in “Conversations of Our Club,” an imaginary dialogue between various
kinds of American Catholics. The conversation partners consisted of a
priest, with no apparent ethnic identity, who led the discussions between various American Catholic laymen, an Irish-Catholic American
patriot, an old-fashioned French Catholic legitimist, a German Catholic
who tended toward mysticism, and a Yankee convert to Catholicism.
Conversation eight was on the relationship between religion and politics, and it was within this context that Brownson discussed various
Catholic reactions to Dred Scott.39
In conversation eight, Winslow, the convert, asserted that some
Catholics had missed the point of Brownson’s critique of Dred Scott because they failed to understand Brownson’s claim that in the nature of
things the temporal order, although distinguished from and independent of the spiritual order, was not separated from the spiritual. Each order was supreme and independent of the other with respect to its own
ends, but the ultimate end of human life was spiritual and as such superior to all temporal ends. This was the basis of Brownson’s criticism
of Taney’s failure to invoke his Catholic principles in writing the decision about Negro citizenship in the United States. Those who defended
Taney responded: Brownson “‘would do well to remember that the
chief justice occupies his seat to administer the law according to the
constitution of the United States, not to execute the ordinances and decrees of the Council of Trent.’”40 A Catholic judge’s role, like that of any
judge, was to interpret the Constitution, not express his own religious
convictions.
Works, XIII, 131.
For conversation #8, see Works, XI, 378–392; see also Brownson’s Quarterly Review,
20 ( July, 1858), 374–389.
40
Works, XI, 380. Brownson was, of course, quoting here the editor of the Catholic Herald and Visitor. See note 31 above.
38

39

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223

Taney’s Catholic defenders maintained, according to Brownson,“that
a Catholic judge is not bound in his official character to consult the
teachings of his religion, and may administer the civil law although it
conflicts with the doctrine and precepts of his church.” It would, of
course, Brownson argued, be absurd to require a Catholic judge to execute the decrees of Trent. That was not the point Brownson was trying
to make. But, it was also fallacious to say that a Catholic office holder
had no responsibility to his religious principles in the exercise of his office or that he or she could act against religion. Brownson believed
that no Catholic can hold an office that requires him to act against his religion; and if the constitution and laws of the Union really do require the
judge to go against his religion,the least he can do is to resign his seat,for under a constitution and laws that really do that no Catholic can hold office.41

Brownson, of course, did not consider this to be the situation in the
United States because there was nothing in the Constitution or laws, he
believed, that a Catholic could not uphold on the basis of religious principle. He was speaking theoretically.
The Irish Catholic politician held that a Catholic judge was an officer
of the civil and not the ecclesiastical court and it was his duty to interpret and apply the law to the case before him. If the law itself was unjust,“the legislative, not the judicial authority, is responsible.” A judge,
Brownson countered, must consider the justice of the law and must interpret it in accord “with natural right, so far as he can without violence
to the text.” The real issue with respect to Taney, according to Brownson, was that
he did not remember,in interpreting the language,or more properly the silence, of the constitution touching Negro citizenship, what his religion
teaches him, and what as a Catholic he holds and must hold, namely, that
negroes are men,that all men are equal before the law of nature,and therefore as men, negroes and whites stand on the same footing of equality.The
legal presumption, then, must be in favor of equality, and therefore in favor
of Negro citizenship.42

The clear implication here was that Taney filled in the Constitution’s silence with an interpretation that reflected the attitudes and arguments
of Southern culture and not the principles of his religion. If he had folIbid., p. 381.
Ibid., p. 382

41
42

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POLITICAL ATHEISM: DRED SCOTT, ROGER BROOKE TANEY, AND ORESTES A. BROWNSON

lowed his religious principles, he would have given not only an interpretation in accord with natural law and his religion but one that in no
way did violence to the Constitution itself. He would have acted as a
judge should act—in accord with a fundamental justice that is the foundation of all written constitutions and laws. Nowhere in the United
States Constitution, furthermore, were Negroes explicitly denied citizenship.The Constitution itself left the judge free to acknowledge Negro citizenship, and natural law and his religion required that he do so.
To this argument the Irish Catholic politician responded that the
judge was to interpret the Constitution in accord with the intentions of
the sovereign that constructed it in the first place, and the sovereign in
this case was the will of the people. Judges were not theoreticians on
the unity of the race or interpreters of the abstract law of nature. Their
role was not speculative but practical. Their role was to discover the
meaning of the Constitution as intended by the sovereign will of the
people who produced and ratified it. Taney’s decision, therefore, was
correct because he rightly assessed the intent of the Constitution and
therefore the presumption against Negro citizenship was valid, represented solid legal reasoning, and did not do violence to the text.43
Brownson, in the voice of the Yankee convert, countered by claiming
that Taney’s assessment of the historical facts of the case was wrong, or
at least one-sided. Some in the civilized world at the time of the formation of the Constitution supported fundamental equality for Negroes.
The Catholic Church was only one example. But even given the facts, as
Taney interpreted them, one could not simply identify the Constitution
of a country with the will of the people. There was a kind of primitive
constitution underneath and anterior to all written constitutions, and
that unwritten constitution pointed to the fundamental purpose of the
state, which was the realization of justice in society. Without this prior
constitution, the written constitution had no right or authority. A judge
was always responsible, therefore, to consult this unwritten constitution
even more so than the written Constitution in making judicial decisions.
The Supreme Court had to consult this primitive constitution, therefore,
in determining the constitutionality of all laws, because neither the convention of the people, the legislature, nor the Supreme Court could
rightfully act against the law of nature.That law limited the powers of all
human sovereigns, whether kings or the people. Thus, a judge was not

Ibid., p. 383.

43

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225

merely the executor or instrument of the will of the political sovereign.44
A judge, in the American system of justice, had a power independent of
the political sovereign and of the legislative and executive branches of
government. If the judge preserved a rightful independence, he or she
could act justly because he or she would act in accord with a higher law
than that of the written constitution or the will of the people.
The higher-law theory that Brownson had just articulated, the Irish
Catholic Democrat argued,had indeed been invoked before in American
society. William H. Seward, Senator from New York, enunciated the theory in Congress in 1850 as a way of preventing the extension of slavery
in the unsettled West.His position and that of other higher-law advocates
represented an antinomian tendency that was a fundamental threat to all
law and unity in society. In fact, the higher-law theory was “incompatible
with the very existence of government.”45 What would indeed happen in
the United States if everyone followed his or her own understanding of
what constituted the higher law? Chaos would be the result.
Brownson did not deny such an argument; he had in fact previously
argued against the antinomian consequences of the higher law. The
higher-law advocates were wrong, not because of their principle, but
because they had identified the higher law with individual conscience.
If everyone followed his or her individual conscience with no standard
outside the self to determine the adequacy of one’s own understanding
of the higher law, anarchy would result. It was right to object to Seward’s theory because it could lead to anarchy. In American civil society,
the Supreme Court, not the individual conscience, was the best arbiter
of the Constitution, and, as such, the Court preserved law, order, and
constitutionality in civil society. The Constitution and the Supreme
Court protected the society from anarchy.
But, the Irish politician rejoined, what happened when the Supreme
Court was unjust or erred in judgment, as Brownson and a number of
others contended with respect to Dred Scott? What security did the
country have that the Supreme Court would maintain justice? The
Court after all was not infallible.“If they do make unjust decisions, what
is the remedy?” What recourse did the individual or the political power
have against them and what could be done to reverse a bad decision?46

Ibid., p. 385.
Ibid., p. 390.
46
Ibid., p. 391.

44
45

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POLITICAL ATHEISM: DRED SCOTT, ROGER BROOKE TANEY, AND ORESTES A. BROWNSON

It was one thing,Brownson responded,to acknowledge the false consequences of a right principle, and another thing to deny the principle
itself. Seward and other patrons of the higher law were right in what
they affirmed: that there is a law higher than the will of the people or
the people’s convention. The Supreme Court was indeed the supreme
tribunal in American society with respect to the civil order, Brownson
answered,“but the civil order is not itself supreme.”47 Its decisions were
just inasmuch as they accorded with natural law and the spiritual order,
and as such they were to be followed by all in society. The faults of the
Supreme Court justices did not arise, Brownson held, from their ignorance of the natural law (because it was clear to them) but from their
“dependence on the political power, and failure to assert their rights
and prerogatives.” It was a culturally and politically conditioned Court.48
When the Supreme Court or any other part of the civil order was not in
accord with natural justice, then, one had the condition Brownson
called political atheism. This condition was necessarily hostile to true
liberty and all human law. Catholics could not mean what they said
when they asserted that their religion had nothing to do with their politics. Such an opinion would lead either to anarchy or social despotism;
only by asserting the interdependence of the temporal and the spiritual, and the ultimate supremacy of the spiritual, could Catholics contribute to true liberty and law in the United States.
According to Brownson,the only sure way of avoiding injustice or anarchy in society was to follow the Church’s infallible interpretations of
the natural law, protecting in the process the liberty and dignity of the
individual as well as law and order in society. Since the early 1850’s
Brownson had argued that the Catholic Church was a constitutive part
of, and had an essential role to play in, American society. The Church’s
role was to remind Americans of the synthetic harmony of the spiritual
and the temporal orders of existence and of the ultimate superiority
of the spiritual. But, more than that, it was to be the visible medium of
that harmony and a sign of the supremacy of the spiritual in society.
Catholics had the religious and political responsibility, on the basis of
their religious tradition, to protect liberty and authority in society by
emphasizing the divine foundation of both in opposition to all forms of
political atheism,higher-law antinomianism and anarchy,and cultural or
social absolutism. Dred Scott and some Catholic reactions to it were illustrations of the failure of the Church and Catholics to live up to their
Ibid.
Ibid., p. 392.

47
48

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227

responsibilities in American society. Not many Catholics, though, conceived of things the way Brownson did.49
Conclusion

The Catholic debate over Dred Scott, especially over the issue of
Negro citizenship, revealed certain tendencies in American Catholic
thought at the time. Both sides of the debate considered the Negro to
be socially and politically inferior to the White. That was a part of the
racist mentality that survived for generations within the Catholic community. Whether they supported slavery or not, the Catholic advocates
of Dred Scott saw the decision as a solution to the long national debate
over slavery; it was thought to put an end to the national discussion, to
restore peace, and to preserve the Union. Those Catholics who supported the decision, moreover, did so because they acknowledged the
Supreme Court as a legitimate authority within the nation and to resist
its decision was to resist constitutional law and order, which would ultimately lead to anarchy and the destruction of the Union.
Although the Catholic opponents of Dred Scott accepted much of the
judicial decision in the case,they considered the arguments and language
used in the written opinion, especially in regard to Negro citizenship, to
be merely obiter dicta, that is, opinion unnecessary to the legal decision.
In this they agreed with the two major Supreme Court dissenters.But the
primary reason for resistance to the obiter dicta was religious. The constitutional inferiority of the Negro or the language that accepted the Negro as mere chattel violated both natural and revealed law on the equality
and dignity of all human beings.And,from that perspective,it was utterly
inconceivable how a Catholic could write such a decision.
One could,with respect to Dred Scott,take a moralistic approach and
condemn Taney and the Court for accommodating their decision to the
unjust forces of Southern culture. Such a view would not help us to understand the weight of corporate and cultural forces on personal and
social decision-making, and even upon a society’s ability to perceive
what was wrong in a political culture. Dred Scott revealed the inveterate problem of realizing a transcendent justice in a society that is
blinded by its historical practices,its cultural traditions and mores,its legalized injustices, its institutions that fed off the injustices, and its reli49
The Editor of the Catholic Herald and Visitor indicated that a good portion of the
Catholic press opposed Brownson’s views of Dred Scott. See his “Brownson’s Quarterly
Review for July,” 26 ( July 10, 1858), 221.

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POLITICAL ATHEISM: DRED SCOTT, ROGER BROOKE TANEY, AND ORESTES A. BROWNSON

gious communities that accepted the cultural values. The decision reflected a social, cultural, moral, and legal problem that transcended society’s wisdom and imagination. A society can be wrong, and dead
wrong, and not be able to right the wrong without decades, at times
centuries, of moral, political, legal, and cultural adjustments. No one had
a workable solution in 1857. Saying this does not justify the situation; it
points only to the difficulties of moral and political transformations.
Taney and the Court revealed the fact that the entire country was implicated in the decision that they came to. Given the culture in which
they lived and the divided state of public opinion, the justices acted,
with good intentions, to bring closure to a national debate and to restore unity to a nation that could not solve either by legislation and political agreement or by moral persuasion the problem of slavery.
On the other hand, one could interpret the decision from a perspective of historical relativism. Taney and the Court, in this view, were simply acting and deciding according to the moral and social norms of
their culture. Their interpretations of the Constitution and the law reflected the tradition of the South. They were proceeding according to
their best lights. Their best lights, however, were not the best; they violated a fundamental justice that transcends historical and cultural
norms. Brownson and the Court’s opponents were right in this regard.
Neither a moralistic nor an historical relativist perspective aids a society in coming to terms with issues of justice in the community.
The larger debate over the relationship between religion and politics
divided the Catholic community into two very different schools of
thought, even though both schools accepted the first amendment—the
religious liberty and non-interference clauses. One school—represented,according to Brownson,by a large segment of the Catholic press
and Irish Catholic politicians—stressed the autonomy and independence of religion and politics. Politics was concerned with temporal affairs and religion with spiritual. The two had completely different roles
to play in an individual’s life and in the life of society. Spiritual affairs
had little or nothing to do with political affairs. This view reflected the
popular Catholic mind in the antebellum period.
The second school, represented by Brownson, emphasized the fundamental harmony between the spiritual and the temporal orders. The
two orders of religion and politics were a part of one dialectical whole,
even though at the institutional level they were autonomous and independent of one another. They both had God as their cause and their
end. Although distinguished and independent of one another with respect to their purposes, they shared the same ultimate destiny, union

BY PATRICK W. CAREY

229

with God. The spiritual end of human existence included the temporal
end, and therefore was ultimately superior to the temporal. That is, the
temporal end did not exist for itself alone. The political order had its
own autonomy, but it was ultimately never separated from the spiritual
order of existence. There was an inherent religious or spiritual dimension to politics, as there was a spiritual or religious dimension to all areas of human living. Politics did not serve religious institutional ends,
but it, like all areas of human living, was subject to religious principles
and ultimately to spiritual ends.
Variations of these two schools of thought have come to characterize
the debate in the American Catholic community ever since Dred Scott.
The debate has not been an ongoing internal discussion; it arises only at
certain periods of social conflict, as was clearly evident in the 1980’s in
American Catholicism.
Most historians—whether historians of American Catholicism, of the
slavery debates, or of American history in general—have neglected this
internal Catholic debate over Dred Scott, one that mirrored to some extent the larger national debate, but one that also had specifically
Catholic concerns. That oversight reflects the more general attitude
that American Catholics existed in such a religious ghetto prior to the
Second Vatican Council that they were not much engaged in American
public issues. They were preoccupied, so the argument goes, with their
own internal religious or spiritual affairs.Such a view cannot be entirely
sustained by close historical analysis of the public record, especially as
that record is available in Catholic newspapers and journals.

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Statute of the Confraternity of Misericordia Maggiore in Bergamo, fol. 1r.

A THOUSAND AND MORE WOMEN:
THE REGISTER OF WOMEN FOR THE CONFRATERNITY
OF MISERICORDIA MAGGIORE IN BERGAMO,
1265–1339
BY

MARIA TERESA BROLIS*

In the last forty years, interest in the social composition of confraternities,their welfare activities,and their place in politics and religious life has
produced numerous books and articles dealing with confraternities
throughout northern and central Italy.1 One important body of sources is
found in matriculation lists,which,even if difficult to analyze,are essential
for a better understanding of the development of confraternities as well as
for the study of population. These lists throw light on the still not wellstudied role of women in confraternities,the subject of the present article.
Gilles Gérard Meersseman and Cinzio Violante debated the importance of women in confraternities in 1960.2 More recent research has
*Dr. Brolis is a cultore della materia (assistant examiner) for Professor Maria Pia Alberzoni in the Department of Medieval History of the Catholic University of the Sacred
Heart in Milan. She wishes to express her gratitude to Professor Giles Constable of the Institute for Advanced Study, Princeton, New Jersey, who encouraged her to submit the article to this journal, and to Professor James M. Powell of Syracuse University, who kindly
assisted her with the English version of the article.
1
For an extensive listing of recent works and discussion of this literature, see Maria
Teresa Brolis and Giovanni Brembilla,“Mille e più donne in confraternità. Il consorcium
Misericordiae di Bergamo nel ducento,”in “Il buon fedele”:Le confraternite tra medioevo
e prima età moderna (Caselle di Sommacampagna, 1998;“Quaderni di Storia religiosa”),
pp. 107–134. The present article, which is based in part on this earlier work, is an extended version of that research. This article is based largely on an analysis of Bergamo,
Archivio Misericordia, Ms 938, which has been edited by Giovanni Brembilla, Maria Teresa
Brolis, Micaela Corato, and Attilio Bartoli Langeli, under the title La matricola femminile
della Misericordia Maggiore di Bergamo (“Sources et documents d’histoire du moyen
âge,”L’Ecole française de Rome,Vol.4 [Rome,2001]).All statistical analyses and references
to individual members in this paper are to this source unless otherwise noted.
2
Gilles Gérard Meersseman,“Disciplinati e penitenti nel duecento,”in Il movimento dei
disciplinati nel settimo centenario della nascita, Perugia, 1260 (Perugia, 1962), pp.
54–56; Cinzio Violante,“Discussione,” ibid., pp. 381–383.

231

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shown that women were enrolled in confraternities in Umbria and in
Bergamo.3 But the register of women members of the confraternity of
Misericordia Maggiore in Bergamo provides an opportunity to study a
substantial number of women participants in confraternity life over a
period from 1265 to 1339, when sources of this kind are rare.
The Misericordia Maggiore was founded in Bergamo in 1265 under
the auspices of the bishop, by the Dominican Pinamonte da Brembate,
who composed its rule.4 From its beginning, it admitted women on the
same basis as men. Men and women participated equally in all the activities of the confraternity both spiritual and temporal.5 But, at some
point in the fourteenth century, there seems to have been a change in
policy forbidding visitation by women of those imprisoned.6 Men were
required to undergo a one-year period of probation,but this was not the
case for women.7 While there is ample evidence that women played a
significant role in both religious and welfare activities—witness such a
figure as St. Elizabeth—this source provides an unparalleled opportunity for study of their social position as well as their influence.
The Misericordia was by no means alone among confraternities in
Bergamo at this time, but it was the largest. Its size—there were more
than seventeen hundred women members—was a reflection of its role
in civic affairs. It was born out of the strife between the popolo and the

3
Giovanna Casagrande,“Women in Confraternities between the Middle Ages and the
Modern Age,” Confraternitas, 5 (1994), 3–13; also,“Confraternities and Lay Female Religiosity in Late Medieval and Renaissance Umbria,” in The Politics of Ritual Kinship: Confraternities and Social Order in Earthly Modern Italy, ed. Nicholas Terpstra (New York,
2000),pp.48–66.Nicholas Terpstra,“Women in Brotherhood:Gender,Class,and Politics in
Renaissance Bologna,” Renaissance and Reformation/Renaissance et Reforme, 26
(1990), 193–212. Lester K. Little, Liberty, Charity, Fraternity: Lay Religious Confraternities at Bergamo in the Age of the Communes (Northampton, Massachusetts, 1988), pp.
13–97.
4
Mariarosa Cortesi, “Pinamonte da Brembate tra storia e agiografia,” in Bergamo e S.
Alessandro. Storia, culto, luoghi, ed. Lelio Pagani (Bergamo, 1999), pp. 69–81.
5
The statute of the Misericordia has been edited by Giulio Orazio Bravi and Sandro
Buzzetti in Little, op. cit., pp. 107–121. See Statute, Chap. 5, ibid., p. 117.
6
Bergamo, Biblioteca Civica (hereafter BBC), Arch. Misericordia, Ms. 937, fol. 7v.
7
“Verumtamen viri qui voluerint in istam congregationem intrare non statim scribantur
in libro, sed scribantur super unam liscam, ponendo in lisca diem et tempus quando
primo se scribi fecerunt. Et ita stent usque ad annum unum, ut fratres possint videre et
cognoscere eorum convenientiam et congruentiam et ipsius sancte congregationis
possint onera experiri. . . . Mulieres vero non scribantur in eodem libro cum viris, sed in
alio per se. . . .” Misericordia, Statute, cap. 1. in Little, op. cit., p. 112. For the statutes of
other confraternities in Bergamo, see ibid., pp. 99–219.

BY MARIA TERESA BROLIS

233

milites.8 These factions, led by important families, the Rivola and
Bonghi (popolo) and the Suardi and Colleoni (milites), dominated the
political and religious life of the city in the second half of the century.
Each furnished a bishop in the late thirteenth century.9 The pars populi
dominated municipal government and, after 1289, was supported by
the Società delle armi di S.Maria Maggiore.10 The Suardi were allied to
the Visconti Lords of Milan, who succeeded in subjecting Bergamo to
their rule in 1315.
Female Membership in the Period 1265–1339

In the register of women in the Misericordia, members are listed by
neighborhoods. There are twenty-one urban and two rural lists. Within
each list, names are inscribed chronologically by different copyists in
three separate periods: hands A and B and related writers for the period
1265–1274; hand C for 1274–1296; hand D and related writers,
1297–1339. The evidence in the accompanying table shows that the
confraternity grew rapidly in its first thirty years. (See Appendix 1.)
There are about one thousand entries for this period. The notary,
Bergamino de Marchisis, who was the principal scribe during the second period, 1272–1296, wrote almost five hundred names, but the number of entries fell sharply in the fourteenth century. Among the reasons
for this decline was a political crisis that broke out in 1296 and undermined the “civic religious” identity that had led to the founding of the
Misericordia.11 The confraternity changed, gradually moving away from
its role as a neighborhood welfare group to more centralized institutional organization.12 Moreover, after 1339 there no longer seems to
have been a need for a register. This change led to the preservation of
this list of women members without change.
8
Bortolo Belotti, Storia di Bergamo e dei Bergamaschi (Bergamo, 1959), Vol. II; Claudia Storti, Diritto e istituzioni a Bergamo: Dal comune alla signoria (“Pubblicazioni
dell’istituto di storia del diritto italiano,” 10 [Milan, 1984]).
9
Bishop Guiscardo Suardi, †1281; Roberto Bonghi, †1292.
10
Giuseppe Locatelli,“Lo statuto della Società delle armi di S. Maria Maggiore di Bergamo,” Bergomum, 18 (1924), 1–18.
11
Carlo Capasso,“Guelfi e Ghibellini a Bergamo,” Bergomum, 15 (1921), 1–44; Patrizia
Mainoni, Le radici della discordia: Ricerche sulla fiscalità a Bergamo tra XIII e XV secolo (“Storia Lombarda: Studi e ricerche,” 3 [Milan, 1997]), pp. 132–144.
12
In the fifteenth century the Misericordia was put in charge of S. Maria Maggiore (with
the music chapel) as well as some urban hospitals. Giuseppe Locatelli, “L’istruzione in
Bergamo e la Misericordia Maggiore,” Bolletino della civica biblioteca di Bergamo, 4
(1910), 57–169, esp. 102. Also, Christopher Henry Carlsmith, “Schooling and Society in
Bergamo” (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Virginia, 1999), chap. 2.

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A THOUSAND AND MORE WOMEN

The registration of men followed a different and probably more
meticulous approach. Their register was prepared from short lists,
called lisce in the statute of the confraternity, one of which, from the
early fourteenth century, survives, listing twelve names of men living in
three rural villages.13 The statute also prescribed a period of one year’s
probation to test the ability of men to assume a full role in the activities
of the confraternity.14 A meeting of men in 1281 was attended by almost
two hundred boni homines congregationis, referring most likely to local leaders rather than mere members.15 Comparison of male and female registration must also deal with demographic issues. If there were
more women and if criteria of membership were less selective than for
men, it would be worth while to compare female membership statistically to the total population of Bergamo, though that task is never easy.
In his research on eastern Lombardy in the Middle Ages, François
Menant argued that the population of Bergamo grew between the tenth
and thirteenth centuries, then fell in the fourteenth century, before recovering at the end of the Middle Ages.16 Given the lack of earlier reliable statistical sources, he made use of sixteenth-century materials to
arrive at estimates of earlier population. For example, a list from 1526
counts 909 residents in the district of S. Michele al Pozzo Bianco, where
the register lists 202 women members before 1339.17 Even taking into
consideration such factors as mortality, average life span, and migration,
we can safely argue that population in this district reached a high level
in the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries. The numbers from
the various districts show that the majority of registrations came from
the most populous quarters. But we have to consider also dual memberships found in the district of San Michele al Pozzo Bianco, where the
priest encouraged his female parishioners, who were members of a
consorcium de vicinia, to join the Misericordia in 1266, and the fact
that after the mid-1270’s no additional members from S. Giovanni and S.

“La lisca maschile (sec. XIV)”, in La matricola femminile, section 3 (Altri documenti).
Statute, chap. 1, in Little, op. cit., pp. 112–113.
15
BBC, Arch. Misericordia, Ms. 937, 15r; also, ibid., Ms. 724 (Liber receptorum), in which
are listed ministri, canevari, and alms dispensers. Many of the men are married to female
members.
16
François Menant, Campagnes lombardes du moyen âge. L’économie et la société rurales dans la region de Bergame, de Crémone et de Brescia du Xe au XIIIe siècle (“Bibliothèque des Écoles Françaises d’Athènes et de Rome,”Vol.281 [Rome,1993]),pp.70–71.
17
Locatelli,“L’istruzione,” p. 95. I wish to thank Patrizia Mainoni (Università statale, Milano) for her examination of medieval population in Bergamo, which accords with my
own conclusions.
13

14

BY MARIA TERESA BROLIS

Matriculation list of women, fol. 1r.

235

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A THOUSAND AND MORE WOMEN

Andrea de foris enrolled.18 Also, we have the anomaly that more women
from S. Grata inter vites, S. Salvatore, and S. Antonio joined during the
second period than during the first, just the opposite of what we would
expect from the evidence of the other districts. Clearly, local factors, including the expansion of the Misericordia into the countryside, influenced its pattern of growth.

Marital Status, Age, and Names

The 1,730 names of female members of the Misericordia provide valuable insight into the social, political, and religious life of Bergamo.19
Moreover, since 90% of these women became members during the first
thirty years of its existence, we get a snapshot of women’s place in Bergamo during a limited period of time. Evidence of marital status enables
us to see the breakdown between married and unmarried women and,
among the latter, between lay women and religious.20 Widows account
for about eleven percent of the total (196 out of 1,730). Unmarried
women amount to a quarter of the whole (452) and of that percentage
somewhat more than 10% (fifty-three women) were religious. Wives
were, of course, most numerous (1,006 or 58%), but only a few women
were listed as mothers (twenty-four). (See Appendix 2.) Given a marriage age below twenty, we can assume that the average age of widows
was probably higher; unmarried lay women, especially those referred to
as daughters or referred to with a diminutive, were younger than their
married counterparts.21 In some instances family entries show that three
generations belonged to the confraternity. The use of a cross to indicate
deceased members shows that death generally mirrored the number of
members from each district.22 Out of the total number of members, 276
or 16% died during the period 1265–1339. In S. Michele al Pozzo Bianco
forty-five out of 202 or 22% died;in S.Andrea forty-one out of 139 or 32%
died; in S. Pancrazio thirty-six of ninety-five (37%) died. On the other
hand, only three out of sixty-six (.045%) deaths are listed from S. Matteo;
18
For the first members of the confraternity of S. Michele al Pozzo Bianco, see BBC, Ms.
Sala I, D, 3, 1, 23v–24v. Two women listed in the Matricola, domina Orlenda (No. 930)
with her son, and Gisla (No. 1007) with her husband, were related to members of the S.
Michele confraternity. The numbers refer to the Matricola femminile.
19
These percentages are based on the data found in the Matricola femminile.
20
Only a few of the married women are identified as “mothers.” Obviously, there were
many more.
21
David Herlihy, Medieval Households (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1985).
22
The figures given here are based on an analysis of the complete matriculation list.
These serve as examples.

BY MARIA TERESA BROLIS

237

only six out of 101 (6%) for S. Grata; and only one out of eighty-two, less
than 1%, for S. Giovanni dell’Ospedale. These figures argue that deaths
were under-reported and the percentage was higher than the 16% cited
above. Still, they provide a rough indicator for the percentage of older
women listed, probably about twenty percent of the whole if we eliminate the number of women who died during childbirth. But only a few
women, such as Grazia d’Argago,Abbess of S. Grata from 1229, who died
between 1272 and 1280, and was therefore about 70 or 75 years of age
at death, are known from other sources.
The register enables us to study naming practices for women in some
detail. Names relating to health, prosperity, and divine help were very
popular. Examples are: Confortata, Cresimbene, Detesalva, Divicia, Pax,
Paxia, Richadona. Others stress female beauty (Admirabilis, Bella, Belledona, Bellacara), flowers and jewels (Flora Flurina, Diamantha), or the gift
of life (Benvenuta, Benedicta, Bona, and Cara, the latter with many variations). As might be anticipated from the location of Bergamo, there are
some Germanic names (Adelaxia, Adeleyta, Alberta, Girarda, Gisla,
Gillelma, Marchisia, Rogeria, and Totescha). Biblical or Christian saints’
names were represented by Dominica, Eva, Filippa, Iacoba, Laurencia,
Maria,Martina,Pasqua,Petra,Protasia,Stefana,and Zoanna,to name some.
Other names, such as Bergamina (Bergamo), Brexiana (Brescia), Galicia,
Romania, and Spania, have geographical origins. The list of most popular
names is headed by Benvenuta (119), followed by Anexia (104), Gisla
(79),Alegrancia (58), and Ymelda (37), with many combinations of Bella,
Bona, Cara, and Rica. This list also shows that men were more likely than
women to have biblical or saints’ names. Moreover, it furnishes evidence
of the “anthroponomical revolution” that marked the increasing use of
cognomens or other designations to make persons easier to identify.23
While membership in the Misericordia did not accurately reflect the
social structure of Bergamo, it did include women from virtually all
groups. Noble women were admitted alongside the butcher’s wife or
domestics and even a few poor.Evidence of this diversity is found in the
use of domina or dona before a woman’s name, in the presence of surnames of important families, in the occupations of husbands or fathers,
and in a few cases of women themselves. There are 891 domine, or
51%, out of the total. Not all of these are wealthy or members of the
middle class; a few are among the poor. Some are nuns. Thus, in the
23
“Genèse médiévale de l’anthroponymie moderne: l’espace italien. Actes de Table
Ronde de Rome,8–9 Mars,1993,”Mélanges de l’École française de Rome, Moyen âge,106
(1994); L’anthroponymie. Document de l’histoire sociale des mondes méditerranéens
médiévaux (“Collection de l’École française de Rome,”Vol. 226 [Rome, 1996]).

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A THOUSAND AND MORE WOMEN

Neighborhoods of Bergamo in the thirteenth century.

BY MARIA TERESA BROLIS

Neighborhoods of Bergamo in the thirteenth century
(enlargement of the subdivisions inside the town walls).

239

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A THOUSAND AND MORE WOMEN

quarter of S. Grata, with its great convent, 53% of the women are called
domine, while in the very large quarter of S. Michele al Pozzo Bianco,
only 38% are so denominated. Only 29% of the female members (119)
from S. Alessandro della Croce and from S. Leonardo only eighteen
(26%) out of sixty-eight are called domine. In many districts, however,
the figure was close to 40%. Rural districts had a similar percentage.
The leading families of both factions were well represented, with
fourteen Rivola, four Colleoni, and nine Suardi, thus confirming the goal
of the Misericordia to bring the factions together in peaceful relationships. The evidence of success may be found in the presence of a
bishop from each faction in this period. As we would expect from the
distribution of the title domina, prominent noble and middle-class families were widely distributed in Bergamo, in a pattern that is found in
most Italian cities in this period. The Rivola, however, are concentrated
in the quarters of S.Michele al Pozzo Bianco,S.Cassiano,and San Andrea
de foris, all with large numbers of female members. The Suardi are
found in S. Grata, S. Salvatore, S.Agata, and S. Matteo, districts with fewer
members. The Suardi tended to live in the same districts as their
Colleoni allies.Thirteen aristocratic families are represented,along with
eight from the business sector and seven notarial families. Many of
these families were found in different districts of Bergamo.
The wives of professionals, craftsmen, and wage-earners are identified, though the numbers are small. Again, judges, notaries, and merchants are the most numerous among those with higher incomes. Only
one physician’s wife is singled out. Bakers (9), barbers (8), blacksmiths
(9), butchers (9), furriers (8), and shoemakers (7) are the largest crafts,
while tailors, weavers, wool workers, saddlers, sword-makers, and hatters were small in number. There were only seven male servants listed
as husbands. A few women are listed with their own craft. Two women
sell fruit, two work in wool.
Domestics form only a tiny portion of the names on the list. Only five
served in the houses of persons with aristocratic names, de Zoppo, de
Crema de Foro, de Bongo. None are identified as servants of the Suardi
or Colleoni.Can we suggest on such slender evidence that the latter discouraged their servants from joining the Misericordia? But neither were
there any identified as servants in the homes of businessmen or notaries. Indeed, most of the domestics seem to have served families
whose names do not otherwise appear in the register. The mere fact,
however, that a few domestics appear on the list suggests that some
families may have encouraged religious activities even by servants.

BY MARIA TERESA BROLIS

241

Among the poor assisted by the Misericordia according to a list drawn
up in 1282 were Pomma de Zonio (No. 444), a recluse living in the district of San Lorenzo, Cossina (No. 499), the daughter of Ser Lanfranco,
from the same district, who dwelt outside the city (No. P226), and Gisla
de Alzano (No. 1034), from S. Michele al Pozzo Bianco, who is also mentioned in other urban districts.24 All were members of the confraternity.
Cossina was from an upper-class background and may be classified with
the “ashamed poor,” that category in medieval sources that represented
members of the upper classes who had fallen on hard times and were
recipients of support to help them maintain their social status.Husbands
of women members of the Misericordia also received assistance in 1282.
Teutaldus de Zonio (No. P26), husband of Benvenuta (No. 938), from S.
Michele al Pozzo Bianco, and Maffeus de Adraria (No. P60), married to
Gisla (No. 400) from S. Michele dell’Arco, were both recipients of aid.After the death of Gisla, the situation of Maffeus seems to have gotten
worse.The limited nature of this evidence,drawn from a single year,only
suggests the extent to which the confraternity was involved in aid to the
poor. This source is helpful in putting names on the poor and treating
them as persons. There does not seem to be any basis here, however, to
support the view of Lester Little that the confraternities, in imitation of
some aspects of the life of the friars, were a means of exercising social
control over the poor.25 If these activities were typical of the usual year,
they could hardly fit that role.Moreover,there is no evidence that the friars benefited directly from the alms of the confraternity.
Another group, not sufficiently investigated, are religious women. Although the numbers are small (only fifty-three in all), the diversity of religious activity witnesses to a very active participation of women
religious in the confraternity. Three abbesses were members during this
period.26 From S. Grata, there was the abbess, nine nuns, and three lay sisters.27 Eight nuns,the total membership of the community during the pe24
The lists of the poor are found in BBC,Arch. Misericordia, Ms. 718, and are now edited
in La matricola femminile,Section 3,Altri documenti,2.They are numbered with a ‘P’before the number to distinguish them from those listed on the Matricola femminile. See
also, Michel Mollat, The Poor in the Middle Ages:An Essay in Social History, trans. Arthur
Goldhammer (New Haven, 1986); Grado Giovanni Merlo,“La storia dei ‘senza nome’ nel
secolo XII,” Nuova Rivista Storica, 75 (1991), 119–172.
25
Little, op. cit., p. 97.
26
Giovanni Spinelli, I monasteri benedettini della diocesi di Bergamo. Repertorio (Cesena, 1976); also published in La presenza dei Benedettini a Bergamo e nella bergamasca (Bergamo, 1982), pp. 17–51.
27
Giovanni Brembilla, Il monastero di Santa Grata in Bergamo dalle origini al secolo
XIII (Tesi di Laurea, Università Cattolica del Sacro Cuore di Milano, Facolta di Lettere e
Filosofia, 1994–1995).

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A THOUSAND AND MORE WOMEN

riod of their enrollment, became members between 1265 and 1272.28
There was a close tie between the community and Pinamonte da Brembate, O.P., who drew up the Statute of the Misericordia.29 At the request
of Grazia d’Arzago, the reform-minded abbess of the community from
1229 until almost 1270, he composed a vita of Santa Grata. This work,
still extant in the archives of monastery, also contains three hexameters
by Abbess Grazia. Adelasia de Tagliuno became abbess after the death of
Abbess Grazia.30 In 1292 she was succeeded by Mansueta de Carpioni.31
Most of these nuns were from aristocratic families such as the de Adelaxiis, De Ficienis, de Zeppo, and the de Tercio.32 This most prestigious
house of Benedictine nuns must have been strongly influenced by the
circumstances of the foundation of the Misericordia in order to make
such a strong commitment. This action suggests that women religious
were prepared and able to play an active role in the religious and civic
life of the city.Valmarina, another Benedictine house, whose abbess was
Rogeria de Tercio,was located in the northern zone outside the city.But,
aside from this obvious link, little more can be said about this house.
The third Benedictine house with members in the register is San Giuliano in Bonate Inferiore, a village located about thirteen miles southwest
of the city, in an area known as the insula Pergamensis, between the
rivers Adda and Brembo.33 The earliest document concerning this
monastery dates from 774;in 1313 the nuns moved into the city and were
united with three other communities. For this reason, the matriculation
list provides valuable information about the community, listing domina
Anexia abatesa de monasterio de Zulliano de Bonate inferiori, and
four nuns: domina Belladona, domina Caracossa, domina Ymia, and
Savina, who is not identified save as belonging to the monastery.
Another large group of members belonged to the order of the Humiliati, which had been recognized by Pope Innocent III.34 The Humiliati, who were among a number of groups condemned as heretical
by Pope Lucius III in 1184, had, nevertheless, flourished in a number of
Cortesi, op. cit., pp. 69–81.
Ibid., pp. 79–80.
30
Brembilla, op. cit., pp. 62–63.
31
Giuseppe Ronchetti, Memorie istoriche della città e chiesa di Bergamo (6 vols.;
Bergamo, 1805–1818; Brembate sopra [Bergamo], 1973–1975), pp. 22, 356.
32
For Bishop Alberto de Tercio, see Fedele Savio, Gli antichi vescovi d’Italia dalle origini al 1300 (“La Lombardia,”Vol. I, Pt. 2 [Bergamo, 1929]), p. 36.
33
Spinelli, La presenza, p. 39.
34
Frances Andrews, The Early Humiliati (Cambridge, 1999), pp. 38–98; Maria Teresa
Brolis, Gli Umiliati à Bergamo nei secoli XIII e XIV (Milan, 1991), pp. 35–101.
28
29

BY MARIA TERESA BROLIS

243

dioceses in Lombardy with episcopal support. They were present in
Bergamo since the last years of the twelfth century. They had a community in Chignolo d’Isola near Bonate inferiore,outside the city.Of the
eight sorores domus Humiliatorum de Cuniollo, who belonged to the
confraternity, none were domine, confirming that the Humiliati usually drew their members from the middle ranks of society, though this
did not hold for the city, where members of wealthier classes did join.
Dona Berlenda soror domus Umiliatorum de la Fontana de Piniollo
(No. 918) belonged to the Valoti, a notarial family, who served for a time
as trustees and notaries for the Humiliati in Bergamo. In 1271 she is
mentioned with nineteen other Humiliati, including five men, when
the minister of their community made a bequest to the Misericordia for
the benefit of the souls of the brothers and sisters.35 This same period
witnesses the participation of two other members of the Humiliati as
fidejussores for testamentary bequests to the confraternity.36 Domina
Benvenuta miliatta domus Tove filia ser Lan. De Scano (No. 734) was
also enrolled. She was a member of the wealthy de Scano. In 1166
Grasso de Scano founded a hospital.37 Other members of the family
held municipal offices. Finally, in 1282 Arnolda, que stat in domo
Umiliatorum de Vaçine (No. P205) (the oldest house of the Humiliati
in Bergamo), was given some woolen cloth, like the poor who were assisted by the confraternity in the district of S. Agata and Arena.
Other women, who chose forms of religious life outside of the established orders, are also represented in the register, which thus provides an
important source for the varieties of religious life in the city. The total
number of such women is thirteen.Five of them are simply called sorores,
while the others are identified in more specific terms. Savia (No. 245) is
a soror penitençie; Blisinola (No. 136) is listed as a pisocha, a term referring to lay sisters. Soror Martinella que stat apud Sanctum Johannem
(No. 102) and dona Berlenda, serviens fratrum minorum (No. 545),
were associated with particular churches. Four others, called sorores domus sancte Caterine (Nos. 1220–1223), were probably connected to a
hospital.38 This community is also mentioned in the list of the poor (Nos.
P12, P249, P250). There is one recluse, Pomma de Zonio (No. 444), and
BBC, Arch. Misericordia, Ms 724, fol. 4v.
Ibid., fol. 2v.
37
M. T. Brolis,“All’origine dei primi ospedali in Bergamo: L’iniziativa dei laici nel XII secolo,” Rendiconti dell’istituto lombardo.Accademia di scienze e lettere. Classe di lettere
e scienze morali e storiche, 127 (1994), 63, 67–71.
38
M. T. Brolis, “’La fondazione dell’ospedale bergamasco di S. Antonio ‘de foris’ (Sec.
XIII),” Bergomum, 69 (1995), 7 and note 10.
35

36

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A THOUSAND AND MORE WOMEN

two hermits,including Soror Bergamina remitte de Hendine (No.1709),
who lived far outside the city, near a lake in the Val Cavallina.39 This area
had other monasteries and houses of the Humiliati. Also, five hermits of
the Val Cavallina are listed among the poor assisted by the confraternity
(No. P247). Closer to the city, we find Gisla de Clixione, que stat in remitagio Sancti Alexandri Curtis Margule (No.1364),a clear reference to
a hermitage located on the southern outskirts of the city.

Conclusion

Study of the Register of women members of the Misericordia provides
not only insight into the internal organization of the confraternity but
also further understanding of “civic”religion in Bergamo.The structure of
the document gives evidence of careful record keeping over a considerable period of time by a number of different individuals. These records
enable us to see the way in which women from different factions were
brought together in the work of the confraternity. They highlight the important influence of women in the shaping of public life.Although the evidence of the role of the bishop in the formation of the confraternity
points to the strong involvement of the Church in the effort to promote
harmony in the community, we should not rule out the presence of popular pressures to achieve these ends.The number and diversity of female
members argues that there was considerable enthusiasm for the Misericordia, most notably in the first forty years, when its membership expanded so rapidly. There is strong evidence that membership in the
confraternity was a civic act, not undertaken by individuals acting alone
but as members of kindreds,political factions,religious communities,and
even as members of particular parishes. This research raises questions
about the place of women in confraternities that points to the need for
further study of their contribution to these groups, whose role in Italian
urban life has assumed an increasingly central place. It also puts women
in the mainstream of society, by demonstrating how they were regarded
at a critical moment in the history of the commune.

39
On female hermits, see Anna Benvenuti Papi,“In castro poenitentiae.” Santità e società femminile nell’Italia medievale (Rome, 1990).

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BY MARIA TERESA BROLIS

Appendix 1: Number of women enrolled by period.
Neighborhoods
1265–1274
1. S. Grata inter vites
35
2. S. Giovanni
16
Evangelista
3. S. Salvatore
7
4. De Antescolis
37
5. S. Agata and Arena
89
6. S. Matteo
47
7. S. Michele
24
dell’Arco
8. S. Lorenzo
61
9. S. Pancrazio
73
10. S. Eufemia
42
11. S. Cassiano
50
12. S. Andrea
82
13. S. Michele al Pozzo
152
Bianco
14. S. Andrea de foris
29
15. S. Alessandro della
63
Croce
16. S. Giovanni
49
dell’Ospedale
17. S. Antonio
16
18. S. Leonardo
56
19. S. Alessandro in
21
Colonna
20. S. Stefano
36
21. S. Giacomo della
18
Porta
Rural districts
22. Porta S. Alessandro
and S. Stefano
23. Porta S. Andrea
24. Episcopatus
Pergami
Total
1003
(58%)

1274–1296
51

1297–1339
15

Total
101
16

11
13
21
17
18

4
1
12
2
4

22
51
122
66
46

24
18
10
28
46
40

9
4
9
14
11
10

94
95
61
92
139
202

43

13

29
119

23

10

82

17
9
13

4
3
33

37
68
67

38
4

14
4

88
26

60

60

30
1

16

46
1

534
(31%)

192
(11%)

1730

246

A THOUSAND AND MORE WOMEN

Appendix 2: Marital Status (by neighborhoods)
Neighborhoods

Wives Unmarried Mothers Widows Religious Total Deaths

S. Grata e Borgo
53
Canale
S. Giovanni
9
Evangelista
S. Salvatore
13
Antescolis
28
S. Agata e Arena
64
S. Matteo
41
S. Michele
28
dell’Arco
S. Lorenzo
55
S. Pancrazio
55
S. Eufemia
34
S. Cassiano
67
S. Andrea
85
S. Michele al
140
Pozzo Bianco
S. Andrea de foris
15
S. Alessandro della 62
Croce
S. Giovanni
51
dell’Ospedale
S. Antonio
17
S. Leonardo
43
S. Alessandro in
36
Colonna
S. Stefano
48
S. Giacomo della
12
Porta
Porta S.
27
Alessandro e S.
Stefano
Porta S. Andrea
22
episcopatus
1
Pergami
Total
1006

24

1

10

6
6
9
44
18
10

1

3
5
10
7
8

101

6

1

16

1

22
51
122
66
46

3
9
8
3
16

1

94
95
61
92
139
202

35
36
12
11
41
45

4

29
119

0
0

82

1

9
3

25
20
16
15
41
42

3
2

9
22

3

12

1

8

18
20
17

1

1

7
7
10

37
68
67

4
13
4

9
12

2
2

18
3

3

88
26

16
2

15

1

6

14

60

7

8

1

46
1

3
0

196

52

1730

276

452

1
1
5

24

11
17
11
8
12
14

13

2
11

1
1

“CUT OFF THIS ROTTEN MEMBER”:
THE RHETORIC OF HERESY, SIN, AND
DISEASE IN THE IDEOLOGY OF
THE FRENCH CATHOLIC LEAGUE
BY

DALIA M. LEONARDO*

“If your brother, your friend, and your wife all of whom you hold dear
wish to strip you of your faith, kill them, cut their throats and sacrifice
them to God.”1 So proclaimed a League polemicist, Louis D’Orléans,
whose fierce devotion to the Church and condemnation of heresy epitomized the spirit of radical Catholicism.2 The mass murder and ritual
degradation committed by Catholics against Huguenots during the
Saint Bartholomew’s Day Massacre (August 24, 1572) was supplanted
by an oratory of violence and intolerance advocated by the League’s
most zealous supporters. By combating Protestantism Leaguers were
not simply purging the kingdom of a dangerous social and political element; they were fighting for the salvation of the entire Catholic community and the restoration of God’s favor.
The ongoing conflict between Catholics and Protestants set the stage
for the emergence of the Catholic League,3 a loose coalition of individu*Dr. Leonardo is an independent scholar living in New York. Part of the research for
this article was made possible by a Newberry Library Fellowship. The author wishes to
thank Professors Bryant Ragan and Susan Wabuda of Fordham University for their valuable comments and suggestions. All translations are by the author.
1
Louis D’Orléans, Replique pour le Catholique Anglois, contre le Catholique associé
des Huguenots (n.p., 1588), p. 8.
2
Barbara Diefendorf, Beneath the Cross. Catholics and Huguenots in SixteenthCentury Paris (New York, 1991), pp. 145–158; eadem,“Simon Vigor: A Radical Preacher
in Sixteenth Century Paris,” Sixteenth Century Journal, 18 (1987), 399–410; Natalie
Zemon Davis,“The Rites of Violence,” in Society and Culture in Early Modern France
(Stanford, 1991), p. 167; J. L. Bourgeron,“Quand la foi était révolutionnaire: les sermons
d’un curé parisien, Simon Vigor, en 1570–1572,” in J. P. Bardet and M. Foisil (eds.), La vie,
la mort, la foi, le temps. Mélanges offerts à Pierre Chaunu (Paris, 1993).
3
Catholic Leagues emerged in the 1560’s as local associations whose members swore
to protect the Church and fight heresy. These local organizations eventually developed
into a national League (1576) mainly as a reaction to the Treaty of Monsieur, which ended

247

248

“CUT OFF THIS ROTTEN MEMBER”

als representing all orders of society whose prime objective was the
preservation of the Catholic Church and the elimination of heresy from
the realm.Leaguers envisioned their campaign against Calvinism as a holy
war similar to the great biblical contests against unbelievers and enemies
of the Lord. League supporters argued that complacency on the part of
Catholics, including the monarch, had led to the manifestation of God’s
anger at human society. League publications outlined the appearance of
signs, such as natural disasters and apparitions, as evidence of divine
wrath and the Lord’s condemnation of heresy and sin. It was not enough
to enumerate Protestantism’s onslaught on centuries of tradition and ritual; polemicists maintained that any deviation from accepted religious
norms would lead to the destruction of society’s most basic foundations.
League apologists relied on a variety of ancient sources for inspiration and guidance, especially the Scriptures and the Church Fathers.
They wove together passages beseeching the wrathful God of the Old
Testament to give credence to their campaign to violently and mercilessly eliminate God’s enemies. They also relied on Christ’s message of
love and redemption, and with it, the hope of attaining eternal salvation
for the faithful of France. One of the League’s greatest strengths was its
ability to use well-known religious and political symbols to influence its
audiences. League polemics focused on biblical stories, such as the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, that were already well known to
French Catholics and had been reinforced by post-Reformation preachers.4 League propaganda as a whole relied on beliefs and myths shared
by a vast majority of the population.5 Since the League was interested in
reaching a wide audience, most of its works were written in the vernacular. League printers became active in 1584, reaching their apex between 1588 and 1589, when over five hundred works were produced.6
Placards, pamphlets, broadsheets, and woodcuts began to circulate
the fifth civil war and restored Protestant worship in most of France. Henry III undermined this first League by making himself its leader and ordering all local governors and
League supporters to pledge an oath to the crown. The League resurfaced in 1584 following the sudden death of Alençon, Duke of Anjou, the last Valois heir. Anjou’s death altered the religious and political field by leaving Henry of Navarre, leader of the Protestant
faction, as successor to the French crown. The League emerged stronger and more determined than ever to preserve the integrity of the Church and the Catholic monarchy.
4
Larissa Taylor, Soldiers of Christ. Preaching in Late Medieval and Reformation
France (New York, 1992), pp. 77–78.
5
Myriam Yardeni, La Conscience nationale en France pendant les guerres de religion
(Paris and Louvain, 1971), pp. 18–21, 73.
6
Denis Pallier, Recherches sur l’imprimerie à Paris pendant la Ligue (1585–1594)
(Geneva, 1976), p. 49–50; Pierre de l’Estoile, Mémoires-Journaux, ed. G. Brunet et al. (12
vols.; Paris, 1992), III, 279.

BY DALIA M. LEONARDO

249

everywhere in Paris, especially in places where crowds regularly congregated to exchange gossip and news such as near the Palais de Justice
and the Pont Neuf.7 Furthermore, written forms of League propaganda
were normally read aloud, making its message widely accessible.
This study focuses on the radical faction of the League which represented a vocal and significant component particularly in Paris, the center of French Catholicism.According to its critics,the League’s crusading
zeal and religious fervor was a dangerous attribute, something to be
feared rather than admired. Using the term “zealous” became a favorite
way for royal supporters and religious moderates to condemn what
they discerned to be unbridled religious fanaticism. They downplayed
their enemies’ assaults by using the same terminology to differentiate
themselves from heretics and lukewarm Catholics who threatened the
Church’s wholeness, and to emphasize the importance of maintaining a
united kingdom:
It is an admirable thing to view the ardor and the devotion of everyone in
France, the air resounding with prayer and processions of our youth who
are purified by our prayers and by the common voice which is spread
throughout this kingdom;we demonstrate that the benedictions and maledictions of a people have great effects.8

One polemic explained that it was zeal that drew Christ from the heavens in order to take human form and suffer death for our salvation. In
Christ’s passion, zeal was played out as extreme affection and love for
humanity.9 Leaguers were therefore “resolute according to natural and
hereditary affection to maintain and defend the religion of our ancestors until the last moment of our life. . . .”10
The League maintained that the moral and religious foundations of
the French state and its privileged relationship with God made the existence of heresy particularly dangerous. In allowing heresy to spread,
7
Robert Darnton, The Forbidden Bestsellers of Pre-Revolutionary France (Cambridge,
Massachusetts, 1982), pp. 199–202; Christian Jouhaud, “Lisibilité et persuasion: Les placards politiques,” in Roger Chartier (ed.), Les Usages de l’imprimé (XVe–XIXe siécle)
(Paris, 1987), p. 311; Roger Chartier, Lectures et lecteurs dans la France d’ancien régime
(Paris, 1987), esp. pp. 87–124,“Stratégies éditoriales et lectures populaires 1530–1660.”
8
Du Contemnement de la mort.Discours accommodé à la miserable condition de ce
temps (Paris, 1589), p. 33.
9
Conférence Chrétienne de quatre docteurs théologiens, & trois fameux advocats,
sur le faict de la Ligue, & levée des armes, faite depuis quelques temps en France, au
nom de monseigneur . . . (n.p., 1586), pp. 24–25.
10
Réponce du menu peuple à la déclaration de Henry par la grace de Dieu autant
roy de France que de Pologne . . . (n.p., 1589), p. 6.

250

“CUT OFF THIS ROTTEN MEMBER”

Catholics were destroying a long-standing bond between themselves
and their Lord. Henry III’s attempts at mediation and his hesitation to
wage a comprehensive assault against a religious minority did not suit a
society that generally viewed toleration and coexistence as an evil. The
concept of toleration, popularized by Enlightenment thinkers, was not
yet commonplace in sixteenth-century thought.11 The word itself was
never meant to be used in reference to heretics and was normally not
employed by the laity. Whenever the term was applied, it was limited to
resolving differences between Christians and therefore excluded conflicts with all non-Christians and heretics.12 Catholics who supported
toleration were viewed with hostility and suspicion and referred to by
the League as Politiques. Leaguers actually helped popularize the term
as a means of identifying certain people who lacked religious ardor and
favored coexistence with Calvinists.13 Consequently, they were not to
be trusted, and according to many Leaguers posed as much of a threat
to Catholicism’s survival as Protestantism.
Politiques did not make up a cohesive party. The term referred to a
variety of persons who were frustrated at the failure of war to solve
France’s religious problem. They regarded toleration as a necessary evil
designed to strengthen the crown and end religious fighting. Their attempts at moderation prompted Leaguers to imply that Politiques advocated the separation of “piety and politics.”14 In reality, Politiques
were not that different from League supporters in their desire to attain
religious uniformity and the preservation of the concept of one king,
one law, one faith. Catholics in general expressed many of the same
11
William Huseman,“The Expression of the Idea of Toleration in French during the Sixteenth Century,” Sixteenth Century Journal, 15 (1984), 310; Philip Benedict,“Un Roi, une
loi, deux fois: Parameters for the History of Catholic-Reformed Co-existence in France,
1555–1685,” in Ole Peter Grell and Bob Scribner (eds.), Tolerance and Intolerance in the
European Reformation (Cambridge, 1996), pp. 70–71; François Rigolot, “Tolérance et
condescendance dans la littérature Française du xvie siècle,” Bibliothèque d’Humanisme
et Renaissance, 62 (2000), 26. Rigolot notes that the verb tolérer denoted a passive meaning and was synonymous with suffering and endurance.
12
Grell,“Introduction,” in Tolerance and Intolerance, p. 16.
13
Le Karesme et moeurs du politique, où il est amplement discouru de sa maniere
de vivre, de son estat & religion par P.V.B.C. (n.p., 1589), pp. 6–7; Jacques le Bossu, Deux
davis d’un Catholique et d’un politique sur l’exhortation faite au peuple de Nantes, en
la grande Eglise de S. Pierre, pour jurer l’union des Catholiques . . . (Nantes, 1589);
Comparaison des deux parties, pour apprendre à tous vrays François d’embrasser le
party de Jesus Christ (Paris, 1589).
14
Michael Wolfe, The Conversion of Henry IV (Cambridge, 1993), pp. 34–35; Mack P.
Holt,“Attitudes of the French Nobility at the Estates-General of 1576,” Sixteenth Century
Journal, 18 (1987), 489–504; idem, The French Wars of Religion, 1562–1629 (Cambridge, 1996), pp. 108–109.

BY DALIA M. LEONARDO

251

worries about the fate of their nation and their Church. The distinction
between Politiques and Leaguers became more pronounced only after
Henry III orchestrated the assassination of the League’s leaders, Henry,
Duke of Guise, and his brother, the Cardinal of Lorraine, in December,
1588.The murders radicalized the League to such a degree that it began
rejecting Henry as France’s lawful ruler and even advocating regicide.
Modern historical interpretations of the League have long been influenced by contemporary accounts, especially those of the diarist,
Pierre de L’Estoile (1546–1611), whose portrayal of the Parisian League
as a disruptive and seditious movement influenced historians well into
the nineteenth century. Once the League was defeated in 1593 and
royal authority restored under Henry IV, L’Estoile and others like him15
succeeded in promoting the belief that the League’s devotion to the
Church and its religious manifestations had been merely a ruse for political insurrection. Downplaying the League’s religious elements became part of a wider historical trend that interpreted the Wars of
Religion in terms of political forces and the actions of great noble families. Thus, when historians considered confessional differences, they
generally analyzed them in terms of personal clashes and individual rivalries.16
A number of recent works have begun to shed new light on the
religious motives behind the League both in Paris and in the provinces.17 For instance, Mark Greengrass shows that League dominance in
15
For a complete discussion of League historiography and the influence of the Politiques see: Ann W. Ramsey, Liturgy, Politics, and Salvation:The Catholic League in Paris
and the Nature of Catholic Reform, 1540–1630 (Rochester, New York, 1999), pp. 57–82.
16
James W. Thompson, The Wars of Religion in France. The Huguenots, Catherine de
Medici and Philip II (Chicago, 1909; J. H. Mariéjol, La Réforme et la Ligue, vol. 6 in Ernest
Lavisse (ed.), Histoire de la France (Paris, 1911).
17
Mark Greengrass, “The Sainte Union in the Provinces: The Case of Toulouse,” Sixteenth Century Journal, 4 (1983), 467–496; Robert Harding,“Revolution and Reform in
the Holy League: Angers, Rennes, and Nantes,” Journal of Modern History, 53 (1981),
379–416; idem,“The Mobilization of Confraternities against the Reformation in France,”
Sixteenth Century Journal, 11 (1980), 85–106; Denis Crouzet,“Recherches sur les processions blanches, 1583–1584,” Histoire, économie et société, 1 (1982), 511–563; Philip
Benedict, Rouen during the Wars of Religion (Cambridge, 1981); Mack P. Holt,“Putting
Religion Back into the Wars of Religion,” French Historical Studies, 18 (1993), 524–551.
For the League’s political and social components see: Frederick J. Baumgartner, Radical
Reactionaries: The Political Thought of the French Catholic League (Geneva, 1975);
Henri Drouot, Mayenne et la Bourgogne: Étude sur la Ligue (1587–1596) (2 vols.; Paris,
1937); J. H. M. Salmon,“The Paris Sixteen, 1584–94: The Social Analysis of a Revolutionary
Movement,” Journal of Modern History, 44 (1972), 540–576; Elie Barnavi, Le Parti de
Dieu (Brussels and Louvain, 1980); Robert Descimon, Qui étaient les Seize: Mythes et
réalités de la Ligue parisienne (1585–94) (Paris, 1983).

252

“CUT OFF THIS ROTTEN MEMBER”

Toulouse was accompanied by the proliferation of devotional activity,
such as the formation of new confraternities. In a seminal article,18
Denis Richet made the important connection between League religiosity and Catholic Reformation piety. He notes how Leaguers embraced
the new penitential confraternities while fostering older religious
forms such as the perpetual adoration of the Eucharist. An important
contribution to the growing body of works on popular religious piety is
Barbara Diefendorf’s study of the Saint Bartholomew’s Day Massacre.Although she does not directly examine the period of the League,
Diefendorf demonstrates that more than political gains were at stake
during the Wars of Religion. Parisians countered heresy’s threat
through an active religious life characterized by processions and Eucharistic devotion, while Catholic preachers, like Simon Vigor, intensified anti-Protestant sentiments through his inflammatory rhetoric.19 In
fact, Vigor’s views on heresy were very similar to those expressed by
the League. Both believed that Catholics and Huguenots could never
co-operate, and that any attempt at reconciliation was futile because
heretics would not stop until they controlled all of France and had
killed every single Catholic.
The League’s concern for the health of the religious and social body,
and its adherence to an organic notion of society remained a mainstay
of Catholic rhetoric throughout the Wars of Religion. Since Catholics’
view of community revolved around the metaphor of the body and the
interaction of its various members, the advantages of participating in
the Catholic liturgy provided numerous individual and communal benefits.20 However, by denouncing and mocking the fundamentals of
Catholic orthodoxy, especially Christ’s real presence and the sacrifice
of the Mass, Calvinists had severed all ties to the Catholic community
and were no longer members of the body of Christ. It was only natural
that conviction in a corporeal metaphor would lead Catholics to view
Huguenots as a disease corrupting religious and social bonds. To borrow a concept from an anthropologist, Mary Douglas, League rhetoric
depicted the differences between Catholics and Huguenots as a con18
Denis Richet,“Sociocultural Aspects of Religious Conflicts in Paris during the Second
Half of the Sixteenth Century,”in Robert Forster and Orest Ranum (eds.),Ritual, Religion,
and the Sacred: Selections from the Annales, Economies, Sociétés, Civilisations (Baltimore, 1982), pp. 204–205.
19
Diefendorf, Beneath the Cross, pp. 28–48, 145–158.
20
Natalie Zemon Davis, “The Sacred and the Body Social in Sixteenth-Century Lyon,”
Past and Present, No. 90 (1981), 64.

BY DALIA M. LEONARDO

253

trast between “holiness and abomination,” order and chaos, good and
evil.21
Leaguers consulted the works of the Church Fathers to prove that
heretics were eternally excluded from the Body of Christ and thereby
banished from the earthly Christian community. D’Orléans drew on the
writings of Saints Ambrose and Jerome for proof of heresy’s dangerous
effects.He explained how both saints had warned Christians to be wary
of mangy sheep,for they contaminated the entire flock.The only way to
protect the group was to sacrifice the unclean and diseased in order to
maintain the health of the whole.22 Once sound members were mixed
with infested ones, there was little prospect for a cure. Sin worked
much the same way, corrupting anyone who dared associate with the
sinner. D’Orléans expounded the standard view inspired by Matthew’s
gospel warning against the perils of allowing the community to be “polluted by just one sinner.”23 Carried to its ultimate conclusion, this sort of
conviction demanded that anyone aware of a sinful element and who
idly stood by, was equally guilty by having placed everyone else at risk.
League polemics pointed out that both the Bible and church canons
expressly prohibited the acceptance of heresy by classifying it as the
greatest domestic evil. While other internal enemies conspired solely
against the state, a heretic conspired against God’s Church.24 Furthermore, it was unnatural and against God’s laws for Catholics and heretics
to coexist. One author exhorted that every kingdom and household divided against itself would fall into ruin, “for the Lord’s children will
never tolerate more than one religion.”25 Because of Christ’s “heritage”
Catholics were branded with a different mark from all other persons,
for they were legitimate children, the fruits of the bed of his spouse, the
Mother Church.26 Therefore,Catholics were bound to protect the “ailing
French body” by “cutting off this rotten member whose stench has in21
Mary Douglas, Purity and Danger: An Analysis of Concepts of Pollution and Taboo
(New York, 1966), pp. 40–50, 113.
22
Origines de la maladie de la France avec les remèdes propres à la quarison d’icelle . . .
(Paris, 1589).
23
D’Orléans, Replique pour le Catholique Anglois, p. 9; idem, Advertissement des
Catholiques anglois aux français catholiques, du danger où ils sont de perdre leur religion & d’experimenter, comme en Angleterre . . . (n.p. 1586), pp. 71–72; The Holy
Bible, translated from the Latin Vulgate, Matthew 18:8–9.
24
Justification de la guerre entreprise, commencée et poursuivie sous la conduicte de
très-valeureux & debonaire prince, monsieur le duc de Mayenne (Paris, 1589), p. 12.
25
Dom Robert, La Foy et religion des politiques de ce temps (Paris, 1588), p. 10.
26
D’Orléans, Advertissement des Catholiques, pp. 50–51.

254

“CUT OFF THIS ROTTEN MEMBER”

fected, infects, and will infect, if it is not completely separated from the
others. . . .”27
A sermon delivered by the Cardinal of Bourbon in 1586 outlined the
Church’s struggle over the centuries to exterminate heresy by condemning all false doctrines and prophets. Bourbon explains that
Huguenots had been seduced and led away from the one true Church.
Thus, he mixed his denunciation of Calvinism with an invitation back
into the fold and assurances that he would personally guide all converts, answering their questions, and undoing the harm achieved by
those who filled their hearts with lies and hatred toward the Church.
Bourbon then asked:
if the terrible way of life, scandalous morals of my ministers offends you, I
will come pay you a visit and bring you order. If uncertainty and doubt
concerning religion torment you, I turn to the word of God, to make me
understand: for in confidence, I will listen to you benignly, and will counsel you like a father.28

Heretics had been fooled into thinking that they could find salvation
outside the Church, but the Catholic faithful knew that “those who do
not hold the Church as mother cannot have God for their father.”29
D’Orléans also likened moderate Politiques to false prophets who corrupted society with their duplicity, calling themselves Catholics, yet refusing to join the League. Both Huguenots and Politiques disguised
themselves like chameleons who “change their colors as it pleases
them,” publicly advocating reconciliation while secretly plotting to kill
all Catholics and instituting the kingdom of Satan on earth.30
27
Les Vrais pièges et moiens pour atraper ce faux hérétique et cauteleux grison,
Henry de Valois (Paris, 1589), p. 7.
28
Jacques Berson,La Sainte & très chrestienne résolution de Mgr le Cardinal de Bourbon pour maintenir l’Église Catholique et Romaine (Paris, 1586), pp. 22–24; André Laurent, Brief discours démonstrant quel estre le courage et la constance et fidelle
Chrestien, au temps des misères et troubles lamentables de ce siècle présent. . . . (Paris,
1587), p. 38; Revelation 20:10; Matthew 7:15–19; Jeremiah 23:17.
29
Renaud de Beaune, Brief exhortation faicte aux estats de ce royaume, par monsieur l’archevesque, patriarche de Bourges, par commandement du Roy sur le serment
solomnel presté par sa majesté (Paris, 1588), p. 13. Beaune explained how Protestants
were cutting themselves off from the Church, just as described in John 15:4–7. Although
Beaune was not a member of the League, he grew increasingly frustrated with the monarchy’s religious policy. By 1588 many of his works analyzing France’s religious woes were
similar in content to League polemics.
30
D’Orléans, Advertissement des Catholiques, p. 65. D’Orléans warns of Politique duplicity and challenges them to lift their masks and speak openly about their loyalties.
Idem, Replique pour le Catholique Anglois, n.p.

BY DALIA M. LEONARDO

255

Whether praying or fighting together, the Catholic populace needed
to work as a “common voice”;otherwise they would fail in their crusade
against Calvinism. Whereas peace may have been the solution to other
conflicts, it was completely unacceptable when it meant allowing the
defamation of God, his Church, and the Saints. Heretics blasphemed
“against the divinity of Jesus Christ, and against the virginity of his
mother,” and they profaned altars and mocked the Christian God.31 The
fact that holy wars were encouraged in the Old Testament gave additional credence to the League’s policies and to its aspirations.32 When
the Israelites battled the Midianites, for example, the Lord ordered
Moses to kill every male among them. After the Israelite soldiers spared
the women and children, Moses berated his men, claiming that everyone had been guilty of disloyalty against God.33 In the battle for salvation, no one aligned with God’s enemies was innocent. Deuteronomy advised that anyone going into battle in the name of the Lord need
not fear the enemy “because the Lord your God is in the midst of you,
and will fight for you against your enemies, to deliver you from danger.”34 League supporters also hoped to imitate early Christian groups
who banded together to protect their Church from pagans, heretics,
and the infidel.
In the pamphlets printed in 1589, when the League was openly in
conflict with the crown, the prospect of holy war was likened to examples of biblical devotion, whereas treating heresy in terms of peace and
toleration became equated with complacency and disloyalty to God.35
The God of vengeance was invoked to guide the League’s armies into
victory and the ultimate extermination of all its enemies. Catholics
were told not to fear suffering and death, because anybody who died in
31
Remonstrance très-docte envoyée aux Catholiques françois, par un Catholique anglois . . . (Paris, 1589), p. 23.
32
”I have commanded my sanctified ones, and have called my strong ones in my wrath,
them that rejoice in my glory. The noise of a multitude in the mountains, as it were of
many people, the noise of the sound of kings, or nations gathered together: the Lord of
hosts hath given charge to the troops of war. To them that come from a country afar off,
from the end of heaven: the Lord and the instruments of his wrath, to destroy the whole
land.” Isaiah 13:3–5; Paul Rousset,“L’Idéologie de croisade dans les Guerres de Religion au
XVIe siècle,” Revue Suisse d’histoire, 31 (1981), 174–184.
33
Numbers 31:7–8, 13–18, quoted in Justification de la guerre, pp. 14–15.
34
Deuteronomy 20:4.“But thou shalt kill them with the edge of the sword, to wit, the
Hethite, and the Amorrhite, and the Chanaanite, and the Pherezite, and the Hevite, and
the Jebusite, as the Lord thy God hath commanded thee. Lest they teach you to do all the
abominations which they have done to their Gods: and you should sin against the Lord
your God.” Ibid., 20:17–18.
35
Le Faux visage descouvert du fin renard de la France (Paris, 1589), pp. 15–16.

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the “grace of God” would be saved. Death was simply the departure of
the eternal soul from its earthly vessel,for “we live in order to die.”Here,
as in many other works, the author stresses the Catholic sense of community and the need to sacrifice individuals for the good of the whole.
Catholics did not live simply for themselves and their own salvation,
they needed to consider their children’s redemption and that of future
generations, all of whom would suffer if heresy was allowed to fester.36
The League’s determination to unite in order to preserve Catholicism
was further influenced by accounts of divine wrath, which contemporaries interpreted as God’s condemnation of the spread of heresy and
sin. When Leaguers looked around them, they found examples of God’s
fury everywhere in the kingdom. The anxiety over God’s judgment intensified after the Day of the Barricades, May 12, 1588, when Henry III
was driven out of Paris, and reached an apex after the Guise assassinations later that year. Bishop Nicolas Angelier explained that God allowed heresy to exist for two purposes: to punish and torment anyone
swayed by false prophets and their doctrines, and to chastise Catholics
who, despite believing in the true religion, were consumed by sin,“blaspheme against his holy name,” irritate, and anger God.37 Catholics had
helped instigate divine ire by forgetting their duties and responsibilities, and by offending the Lord through “an infinite multitude of abominable sins.” Divine signs were therefore to be interpreted as a herald’s
trumpet proclaiming the advent of God’s justice toward heretics and
Catholics as well.38
The impact of apocalyptic visions during the Wars of Religion has
been studied in depth by Denis Crouzet.He explains how Catholics’use
of violence represented the work of a collective mentality dedicated to
eliminating God’s enemies. According to Crouzet, sixteenth-century
men and women were embedded in an apocalyptic web that dominated their everyday lives. These warriors of God were bound by communal angst and the fear of impending divine judgment. They clung to
an “eschatological anguish” that began to permeate Catholic life especially after Saint Bartholomew’s.39 League violence, its processions, and
Du contemnement de la mort, p. 14.
Nicolas Angelier, Remonstrance du clergé de France faite au Roy le 19 Novembre
1585 (n.p., 1585), p. 7.
38
Description des signes merveilleux apparus au ciel sur la ville d’Angoulesme
(Paris, 1588), p. 8.
39
“. . . une grande vague d’imaginaire eschatologique submerge peu à peu le catholicisme de l’aprés Saint-Barthélemy. Prime une expérience individuelle et collective de relation à Dieu, de sensation du péché et de l’abomination.” Denis Crouzet, Les Guerrieurs
36

37

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257

all its religious rituals were motivated by the “anguish of God’s extreme
judgment.” The ritual violence that erupted during Saint Bartholomew
and then during the League, the two most violent periods of the religious wars, developed from people’s fear of God’s anger and the coming of the end of the world. Therefore, individuals needed to prepare
themselves for the coming of Christ by cleansing society of his foes.
While Leaguers were in fact preoccupied with the fear of God’s judgment, Crouzet makes this apocalyptic anguish the crux of his entire
analysis of the League period. However, a close examination of many of
the sources used by Crouzet shows that Catholics also believed that if
they followed God’s laws and eliminated Protestantism, France would
be blessed with prosperity and the renewal of God’s blessing. Even the
most extreme expressions of desperation and fear were tempered by
the hope of God’s eventual grace. God’s anger could be quelled with a
holy war in “defense of his holy name” and for the “augmentation of his
Church: in short, for to this end being in peace, we may serve and
honor, in keeping his holy commandments. . . .”40 League accounts of
God’s wrath were accompanied by explanations of the source of his
anger and of how Catholics could ingratiate themselves once again.
In the Old Testament there was always a clear connection between
God’s ire and the existence of human sin, but it was also evident that
anger and wrath were not God’s normal disposition or attitude toward
humans.41 The Lord’s anger was never to be interpreted as malicious,
but simply reflected his position as judge and creator. The Israelites’
covenant with the Lord was based on obedience and trust; therefore,
when someone disobeyed or betrayed that contract, God reacted. More
importantly, when an individual or a group of people went astray, the
entire community was responsible and liable for its sins. Even though
Huguenots represented only a small percentage of the entire population, God’s wrath was being felt by everyone in France.42 Heretics were
sinners living amongst the devout,profaning God’s name and ultimately
instigating his anger against even the most righteous.
In 1579 following a flood in Paris, several works depicted that natural
disaster as a signal from God calling for atonement:
de Dieu: La Violence au temps des troubles de religion (2 vols.; Seyssel, 1990), II,
341–342.
40
Les Signes merveilleux apparus sur la ville et chateau de Blois, en la presence du
Roy . . . (Paris, 1589), n.p.
41
Psalm 30:6; Raymond E. Brown, S.S., et al. (eds.), The New Jerome Biblical Commentary (Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey, 1990), p. 1301.
42
Numbers 16:22–26.

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For men living in these vile times are marvelously sinful, and without faith
and charity, full of injustice and impiety, contemptuous and mockers of
saintly admonitions, greedy, sanguinary, and lewd persons, who loosen the
flood gate to all carnal appetites without any shame, until they are oppressed by a sudden and frightful Godly judgment.43

The anonymous author of this particular pamphlet resorts to two wellknown biblical stories from the Book of Genesis. He details the debauchery of the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah, who indulged
themselves without ever thinking about the consequences and whose
destruction was a fitting end to their lives of sin. The cities’ annihilation
served as an illustration of what would happen to anyone who disobeyed God’s laws. He is also impressed by the Deluge and the symbolism of water, which gives life and baptizes Christians, but can also
become a powerful destructive force. He reminds the faithful that
floods are always a sign of God’s ire, a means to chastise and provoke
penance. Bishop Langelier also noted that the afflictions suffered by the
Israelites served as an example, so that the children of Christ could redeem themselves and avoid the same sinful behavior.44
The destruction of powerful cities and nations served as a reminder
of God’s divine justice. One League polemic asked:
Where are the ancient cities so renowned and flourishing, where is the ancient liberty and the glory of Greece, I ask again where are their remains?
Time consumes everything, some people tell me, but it is not time that
dooms cities and kingdoms, it is above all God’s ire that vanquishes the arrogance and vanity of cities, that forget his holy name:45

43
Ample discours de ce qui est nouvellement survenu en faux-bourgs S. Marcel lez
Paris (Paris, 1579), n.p.; Le Desastre merveilleux et effroyable d’un deluge advenue en
fauxbourgs S. Marcel de Paris le 8 jour d’avril 1579 (Paris, 1579); Discours du deluge et
innondation d’eaux foit effoyable advenue en fauxbourg S. Marcel de Paris au present . . . (Paris, 1579).
44
Nicolas Angelier, Remonstrance du clergé de France faicte au Roy, le 3 d’Octobre,
1579 . . . (n.p., 1580), p. 48. Speaking of divine judgment, Isaiah describes God’s “breath
as a torrent overflowing even to the midst of the neck, to destroy the nations unto nothing, and the bridle of error that was in the jaws of the people” (Isaiah 30:28). In the book
of Hosea, the prophet describes an angry God, who shall “pour out my wrath upon them
like water” (Hosea 5:10).
45
Discours sur les calomnies imposées, aux princes & seigneurs Catholiques, par les
politiques de nostre temps (n.p., 1588), p. 70.

BY DALIA M. LEONARDO

259

Warnings found in many League pamphlets appearing after 1584 actually resembled earlier Catholic publications.In 1576 Clément Marchant,
a doctor of theology, was already relying on biblical passages to demonstrate God’s anger at the people of France. Marchant, like many Leaguers, looked to the Scriptures for inspiration. Jerusalem’s plight and
the punishment inflicted on her enemies served as a warning to contemporaries. In one instance he recounts Jeremiah’s prophecies of the
misery about to befall the people of God, then shifts to Luke where
Christ laments Jerusalem’s fate after he was rejected by its religious
leaders.46 Christ’s words harkened to the prophetic themes of Jeremiah,
Hosea, and Isaiah, and was intended to demonstrate how contemporaries were repeating their ancestors’ mistakes. The message was clear:
France must redeem itself or continue to feel God’s anger. Marchant’s
warnings were targeted particularly at Henry III, who could not continue to be blinded by the “cursed plague and diabolical vermin” engulfing France.47
Even more skeptical observers, like Pierre de L’Estoile, showed great
interest in the natural calamities afflicting France. One of his most detailed journal entries (March 26, 1580, Easter Sunday), described a terrible storm that reached Paris and the surrounding countryside, bringing
rain and snow and causing massive destruction to homes and churches.
L’Estoile records a large number of dead and wounded, many of whom
lost limbs and were badly mutilated.Another entry from October, 1583,
explained how in one afternoon a blazing light appeared in the sky, lasting two hours. One month later the Seine rose and overflowed so badly
that some Parisians described the occurrence as a “second deluge.”48
The events described by L’Estoile were interpreted by witnesses as acts
of divine wrath brought on by the accumulation of sin.
A curious work printed in 1587 outlined all known accounts of natural disasters and signs occurring in France from 1550 to 1587. Its basic
premise was that these events were an illustration of God’s disgust at
46
Luke 19:41–44. For an excellent discussion of similar themes found in English Protestant polemics see: Alexandra Walsham, Providence in Early Modern England (Oxford,
1999).
47
Clément Marchant, Remonstrance au peuple François, sur la diversité des vices qui
regnent en ce temps, avec le remède d’iceux (Paris, 1576), pp. 37–44; René Benoit, Advertissement du moyen par lequel tous troubles et diférens de ce temps seron assopis
et ostez (Paris, 1587).
48
L’Estoile, Mémoires-Journaux, II, 487–491. L’Estoile writes how even the kingdom’s
forests were affected as high winds tore oak trees right out of the ground.

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the spread of heresy and of overall human sin. It was not surprising that
the pamphlet was written in 1587, since it coincided with the renewal
of fighting in parts of the kingdom. To the dismay of Catholics everywhere, Henry of Navarre, the Protestant leader, and his mercenaries
were enjoying a great deal of success, helping fuel Catholic fears that
Protestant forces were on the verge of overtaking the kingdom. The author chronicled how in 1579, for instance, a tornado ravaged Paris, destroying churches, statues, bells, and other property. The storm also
caused a substantial rise in bread prices, culminating in agony and starvation for the masses of Parisian poor. The author asks his readers to
open their eyes and witness God’s judgment as France is assailed by
war, plague, famine, and horrible death. He encouraged “each one to
look into your conscience and pray God give us peace.”49
Following the Guise assassinations, League polemics intensified their
accounts of impending doom. The murders were themselves depicted
as a terrible indication of God’s ire. Apparitions were reported in numerous places around the kingdom, especially in Blois, where the killings took place. One polemic noted that on Christmas day a flame of
fire fell from the sky, then disappeared in an instant; it was taken by
many as a sure sign that God was angry at his “Catholic children” for
their sinful behavior. The signs demonstrated that if order were not restored, France would eventually be engulfed by soldiers and heretics.50
Another account recalled how a flame of fire hovered over the city of
Angoulême for half an hour, radiating immense brightness. Then, more
than fifty flames exploded in the air like a musket and were themselves
indicative of the king’s military demise.51 On January 12, 1589, between
Paris and Saint Denis a number of persons claimed to have seen bright
flaming arrows and lances in the sky battling each other, believed to

49
Mémorable discours des foundres, tempestes, tonerres, tourbillons de vens. . . .
(Paris, 1987), p. 13; Discours de grandes persécutions et horribles cruautez advenues . . . (Paris, 1589.
50
Les Signes merveilleux, n.p.
51
Description des signes merveilleux apparus au ciel sur la ville d’Angoulesme
(Paris, 1588), p. 7.The pamphlet criticizes the Duke of Epernon, the king’s favorite, for his
incapacity to save Angoulême from Protestant forces. The work reflected contemporary
misgivings about his role as a competent military leader and protector of the Church. For
some time Epernon’s rise to power and his close relationship to Henry had been criticized by League sympathizers. Early in 1588, Epernon was elevated to Admiral of France
and governor of Normandy, angering Leaguers who believed that the Duke of Guise
should have been given at least one of those honors.

BY DALIA M. LEONARDO

261

represent the upcoming war between Catholics and Protestants.52 The
aerial battles continued into the following day, when witnesses:
saw in the sky a great cross and a star below, shaped like a comet, which
shone all day, by which the people were disconcerted . . . Afterwards,
there came armies over the towns very clearly, fighting against each other
with lances, signifying war and the victories that we will have against the
heretics if we put everything in order both through prayer and by force.53

Despite the prospect of eminent war, the author echoes the League’s
conviction that order and prosperity would be restored once God’s
armies were victorious over its enemies.
French Catholics had long believed that they occupied a special position in God’s eyes above all other kingdoms and empires.They prided
themselves on their devotion and believed that God had rewarded
them by his constant protection. However, being favored by the Lord
also involved an immense responsibility on the part of his people. The
faithful were expected to be vigilant and willing to preserve the Church
against all its enemies. These traditional concerns for the safety and
prosperity of the Church and the moral well-being of the Christian
community were at the core of the League’s propaganda and ideology.
Within the League’s ideological sphere, that community of believers
was restricted to include only Catholics. In fact, heretics represented
the greatest threat to Christianity’s cohesion and health with its polluting and corruptive influence.
League apologists lamented that since Protestantism started gaining
in numbers and power, God’s esteem and protection had faltered and

52
Signs depicting battles were a common occurrence in early modern Europe. During
the heyday of Italian prophecy (up to 1530) aerial battles were commonly recorded. In
1517, when Charles V was approaching Rome, a number of air battles were reported over
the skies of Bologna. Ottavia Niccoli, Prophecy and People in Renaissance Italy, trans.
Lydia G. Cochrane (Princeton, 1990), pp. 64–65; Bernard Capp, English Almanacs
1500–1800:Astrology and the Popular Press (Ithaca, 1979);Ambroise Paré, the sixteenthcentury physician and naturalist, also commented on celestial wonders, including the appearance of lances and comets in the sky as a sign of God’s ire. He noted how following
Christ’s crucifixion, Jerusalem’s destruction was foretold by several signs.There appeared
a “frightful comet in the form of a shining sword on fire, which appeared for easily the
space of a year on the temple, as if demonstrating that divine ire wished to take
vengeance over the Judaic nations . . .” Ambroise Paré, On Monsters and Marvels, trans.
Janis L. Pallister (Chicago, 1982), p. 152.
53
Les Signes merveilleux, n.p.

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seemed in danger of ceasing altogether. The combination of heresy and
other types of human sin had turned God’s love to anger. Leaguers were
certain that divine wrath could only be appeased once Catholics collaborated in finally cleansing the social and religious body. As long as
Protestants were allowed to live and interact with Catholics, France
would remain divided and overrun by sin and heresy.

THE PROBLEM OF THE MIDDLE CLASS IN GERMAN
CATHOLIC HISTORY: THE NINETEENTH-CENTURY
RHINELAND REVISITED
BY

ERIC YONKE*

In March of 1857,Matthias Aulike,Director of the Catholic Division in
the Prussian Ministry for Church Affairs, wrote to the Catholic parliamentarian August Reichensperger:
Most of our bishops maintain that they want everything handled exclusively by the clergy and push the well-intentioned laity into the background. Every true Catholic layman recognizes his place in the Church and
demands nothing beyond that which the clergy grants him. There is a middle way, however, that would spare the laity from feeling superfluous, except merely for donations, and perceive its interest as actual co-operation.1

The immediate circumstances of this letter were both personal and political. Aulike was frustrated that the bishops in Prussia did not support
his bureau. His position was on the administrative chopping block, and
the entire division remained there until its end in the early Kulturkampf.
As a Catholic layman and civil servant, he had hoped the bishops would
work with the educated laity to improve church-state relations, but by
1857 Aulike recognized that he was a mediator where none was wanted.2
From his social and professional vantage point, Matthias Aulike articulated a problem that has persisted into the twentieth century and ranges
*Dr. Yonke is an associate professor of modern German history in the University of
Wisconsin-Stevens Point. He would like to thank the University Personnel Development
Committee and the UW-System sabbatical program for their support.
1
Matthias Aulike, Berlin, to August Reichensperger, Cologne, March 5, 1857, Landeshauptarchiv Koblenz (hereafter, LHAK) 700, 138.6. See also Victor Conzemius, Die
Briefe Aulikes an Döllinger: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der “Katholischen Abteilung”im
Preußischen Kultusministerium (“Römische Quartalschrift für Altertumskunde und
Kirchengeschichte,”Vol. 32 Supplementheft [Rome, Freiburg i. B.,Vienna, 1968]).
2
For a magisterial account of German Catholicism in the nineteenth century, see chapter 8:“Die Auseinandersetzung mit dem Zeitgeist,”in Franz Schnabel,Deutsche Geschichte
im neunzehnten Jahrhundert, Vol. 4: Die religiösen Kräfte (Freiburg i. B., 1937), pp.
164–202.

263

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THE PROBLEM OF THE MIDDLE CLASS IN GERMAN CATHOLIC HISTORY

beyond Germany: the place of the “well-intentioned laity”in the modern
Catholic Church. By well-intentioned laity, Aulike meant those Catholics
possessing the means and desire to support the Church, such as himself
and Reichensperger,but being neither peasants nor aristocrats,belonged
to a middling social group whose place was ill-defined in the Catholic
world. The corporatist social ideal of the Church attempted to deny
modern class society, which made the middle class an anomaly in the allembracing “people’s church” (Volkskirche). Just as many Catholic social
thinkers belatedly struggled with the problem of the working class,most
dismissed the middle class as an outrider of modernism, an agnostic or
culturally Protestant group. Yet a small Catholic middle class did endure
into the twentieth century, despite the ideological conflict between
Catholics and Liberals, and continued to argue for a “middle way . . . that
would spare the laity from feeling superfluous.”
The problem of the Catholic middle class is also one of definition.
Who is to be considered a member of the middle class and who a member of the Catholic community? Over the past two decades, a primary
focus of German historical research has been the Bürgertum, defined
either as an exclusively upper-middle class group espousing a set of cultural and civic ideals (Bürgerlichkeit) or a legally defined towndweller
holding traditional privileges and rights in a German city.3 Applying
these definitions to the Catholic community,Thomas Mergel has studied
the development of a liberal Catholic upper-middle class in nineteenthcentury Germany, an elite whose influence lay outside institutions of
the Church or the Catholic Center Party. These bourgeois Catholics
kept their religion largely a private affair, while keeping active membership in their local parishes.4
Yet the middle class can be understood as a much broader social category than the Bürgertum, one encompassing not only the wealthy
elites but local artisans and retailers,the traditional Mittelstand or lowermiddle class, as well. This larger group of middle-class Germans matured dramatically over the nineteenth century, combining remnants of
3
Jonathan Sperber,“Bürger, Bürgertum, Bürgerlichkeit, Bürgerliche Gesellschaft: Studies
of the German (Upper) Middle Class and Its Sociocultural World,”Journal of Modern History, 69 ( June, 1997), 271–297; David Blackbourn, “The German Bourgeoisie: An Introduction,” in The German Bourgeoisie: Essays on the Social History of the German
Middle Class from the Late Eighteenth Century to the Early Twentieth Century, edd.
David Blackbourn and Richard J. Evans (London and New York, 1991), pp. 2–5.
4
Thomas Mergel, Zwischen Klasse und Konfession. Katholisches Bürgertum im
Rheinland 1794–1914 (Göttingen, 1994); idem, “Ultramontanism, Liberalism, Moderation: Political Mentalities and Political Behavior of the German Catholic Bürgertum,
1848–1914,” Central European History, 29 (1996), 151–174.

BY ERIC YONKE

265

the old town patricians with the new industrialists in its upper stratum
and local shopkeepers with white collar employees in its lower stratum.This definition based solely on social and economic status includes
both the financially independent and the financially dependent, such as
technically trained civil servants and office employees,5 and allows us
to consider as an aggregate the non-noble Catholic laity who possessed
the means and the “free” time, whether modest or extravagant, to devote to the parish and the community. At the risk of being too diffuse, a
definition reaching beyond the Bürgertum allows us to study middleclass Catholics as Catholics.
This article concentrates on middle-class Catholics in the Rhineland,
because of the Rhineland’s role in Germany’s economic modernization
and its overwhelmingly Catholic population including a small, influential group of Catholic industrialists, professionals, and entrepreneurs.
The social distance between the Catholic shopkeepers and the few
Catholic industrialists was at times great; yet both shaped the parish
community and civil society. They served as organizers of cultural projects and social welfare initiatives in and beyond the institutional
church. Their clubs defined the social landscape in most Rhenish cities
by the 1850’s. Unlike peasants or workers, middle-class Catholics could
transcend parish boundaries easily, and create organizations to foster a
modern civic life influenced by the Rhenish Catholic identity.6
Ideals of Civil Society and Germanic Christian Culture: The Cologne
Cathedral, the Gothic Revival, and the Middle Class

In the early nineteenth century, local patricians joined with civil administrators, professionals, and recently transplanted businessmen to
create an urbane society seeking both to define civility and uphold cul5
See Peter Lundgreen (ed.),Sozial- und Kulturgeschichte des Bürgertums: eine Bilanz
des Bielefelder Sonderforschungsbereichs (1986–1997) Göttingen, 2000); M. Rainer Lepsius,“Zur Soziologie des Bürgertums und der Bürgerlichkeit”in Jürgen Kocka (ed.),Bürger
und Bürgerlichkeit im 19. Jahrhundert (Göttingen, 1987), p. 79.
6
On German Catholic practices, identity, and modern urban life: Olaf Blaschke,“Das 19.
Jahrhundert: Ein Zweites Konfessionelles Zeitalter?” Geschichte und Gesellschaft, 26
(2000), 38–75; Rudolf Schlögl, Glaube und Religion in der Säkularisierung: Die
katholische Stadt—Köln, Aachen, Münster—1700–1840 (Munich,1995);Helena Waddy,
“St. Anthony’s Bread: The Modernized Religious Culture of German Catholics in the Early
Twentieth Century,” Journal of Social History, 31 (Winter, 1997), 347–370. See also Ernst
Heinen, “Das katholische Vereinswesen in der Rheinprovinz und in Westfalen 1848 bis
1855. Kirchenpolitik oder Christliche Demokratie?” in Winfried Becker and Rudolf
Morsey (eds.), Christliche Demokratie in Europa. Grundlagen und Entwicklungen seit
dem 19. Jahrhundert (Cologne and Vienna, 1988), pp. 29–58.

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THE PROBLEM OF THE MIDDLE CLASS IN GERMAN CATHOLIC HISTORY

ture in the Prussian Rhine Province.Traditionally Catholic cities such as
Aachen and Trier became home to a new middle class with a substantial number of Protestants. The old burghers and new bourgeois synthesized modernity with a Romantic view of cultural tradition. For
example, urban elites spearheaded a movement to reform carnival in
the 1830’s. Here, the middle class, led by its wealthiest and most influential families, worked to transform a traditional quasi-religious festival
into a respectable civic celebration. The success of these efforts reveals
the middle class’s ability to improve city life by sanitizing and secularizing the cultural tradition.7
Plans to complete the Cologne Cathedral can be understood in this
manner as well.Two Cologne patricians, Heinrich von Wittgenstein and
Eberhard von Groote,8 co-founded the Cologne Cathedral Association
(Kölner Dombauverein) in 1839.The cathedral stood in its half-finished
state for nearly five centuries and as such became a symbol of the city.
For patrons of the new Dombauverein, the cathedral’s completion
would be a triumph of the Gothic Revival in architecture and the aesthetic expression of the Germanic and Christian spirit. The monumental Kölner Dom became an innovation of nineteenth-century German
Kultur, an exaltation of stylized tradition with the aid of modern technology. The nobility as well as the middle class became avid supporters
of this Gothic restoration in art and architecture.
But not all Rhinelanders in 1839 were pleased with the idea of a secular cathedral association. At its first meeting, a group demanded that
the “living cathedral in the person of the archbishop must be re-created
before one can think of stone creations,” a reference to Archbishop
Clemens August von Droste zu Vischering, whom the provincial gov7
On Cologne, see Gisela Mettele, Bürgertum in Köln 1775–1870: Gemeinsinn und
freie Association (Munich, 1998). On Carnival in the Vormärz, see James Brophy,“Carnival and Citizenship:The Politics of Carnival Culture in the Prussian Rhineland,1823–1848,”
Journal of Social History, 30 (Summer, 1997), 873–904; Elaine Glovka Spencer, “Regimenting Revelry: Rhenish Carnival in the Early Nineteenth Century,” Central European
History,25 (1995), 457–482.
8
Wittgenstein and Groote are good examples of the newly formed upper-middle class.
Wittgenstein was a member of Cologne’s patriciate who married into an important banking family and became one of Cologne’s leading industrialists. Groote was the son of a
postmaster-general of the old regime, had served as an adjutant to the Prussian Crown
Prince during the Wars of Liberation, and thereafter held a series of lower-level governmental posts. In 1839 Groote was president of Cologne’s municipal poverty commission,
which would prove significant for Catholic charities in the city. H[einrich] von Wedel,
Heinrich von Wittgenstein, 1979 bis 1869. Unternehmer und Politiker in Köln
(“Schriften zur Rheinisch-Westfålischen Wirtschaftsgeschichte,”Vol. 33 [Cologne, 1981]);
on Groote: Ennen, Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie, IX, 728–730.

BY ERIC YONKE

267

ernment had incarcerated only two years earlier. Archbishop ClemensAugust, a member of the Rhenish-Westphalian nobility, was a longtime
adherent of the Ultramontane cause in the Church. He had publicly
challenged state authority on matters of marriage and faculty appointments in theology to the University of Bonn. Consequently he was arrested, and these “Cologne Troubles” became a watershed of the
Ultramontane movement. The Cologne patricians, however, distanced
themselves from this church-state dispute. Groote confided in a personal note to the cathedral architect, Sulpiz Boiserée, that he remained
loyal to his faith but could not understand the Cologne Troubles or
these “hyper-Catholics,” as he called those who challenged him and
Wittgenstein at the open meeting. Groote noted that several of the men
were young lawyers of a new generation and complained that they
were a “thorn in the eye.”He feared their involvement would jeopardize
the project. Wittgenstein and Groote thus replied that these men had
“brought up something totally foreign,” and if anyone else felt similarly
he was free to vote against the new association.The majority supported
Wittgenstein and Groote. For the time being, the older generation held
sway. With mild blessings from the new administrator and future archbishop, Johannes Geissel, and with the patronage of the Hohenzollern
and Wittelsbach dynasties, bourgeois and noble families contributed
generously to the new Cathedral Fund.9
The Ultramontane clergy helped promote the cathedral’s reconstruction as part of the Catholic Revival, encouraging pilgrimages to
Marian grottos and reliquaries of local saints. They were not pleased,
however, with the secularized concept of German Kultur or the
Cologne Cathedral’s status as a national monument. The impiety of
Cologne’s citizenry was indeed turning the cathedral into a museum,
and yet the completion of the Dom relied on its patronage. In a letter to
the Papal Nuncio, Michele Viale Prelà, dated December 30, 1854, Archbishop Johannes Geissel complained:
During the Kyries, Glorias, Credos, and so forth, they walk up and down
in the nave, even with a lady on the arm, and converse as if they were in a
public place. They stop with their backs to the altar so that they can look
the soloist in the face and hang on her cadences,flourishes,and trills.Then
they resume their stroll, conversing in loud voices, etc.—as if it were a
9
When a few members attempted to exclude Protestants from the organization, Wittgenstein and Groote moved quickly to block their efforts. Eberhard von Groote, Cologne,
to Sulpiz Boiserée, Munich, May 2, 1839, Nachlass Sulpiz Boiserée, Historisches Archiv der
Stadt Köln (hereafter HAStK) 1018/118:45; Groote to Boiserée, June 19, 1842, HAStK
1018/118:48, 1; See also, Wedel, op. cit., p. 29.

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THE PROBLEM OF THE MIDDLE CLASS IN GERMAN CATHOLIC HISTORY

promenade or a hall or musical program. And of all these abuses I have
only too much proof. It is a true outrage.10

Archbishop Geissel never reconciled himself to Cologne’s urbanity,
being transplanted from Speyer, but as a leading figure in the ultramontane movement, Geissel promoted the Cathedral Association and saw
its advantages for the Catholic Revival.
Initiatives like the Cologne Cathedral Association were duplicated in
other cities as well.Aachen’s middle-class leaders created the Karlsverein
for the reconstruction of its cathedral, and the Royal Academy of Art in
Düsseldorf joined with the Cologne Archdiocese to establish an association for the recovery of Christian Germanic art. Although usually
formed by upper-middle-class citizens and the nobility, these organizations received avid support from lower-middle-class Catholics who
shared the same cultural priorities and, to some degree, similar religious
sentiments.
The Rhenish patricians and bourgeois were deeply committed to
restoring what they considered Germanic Christian culture, while they
financed the Cologne-Bonn railway, advanced the use of steamboats on
the Rhine River, and gambled on new industries. They spent leisure
time discovering grottos and Gothic ruins, writing about them, and giving money for their restoration. August Reichensperger became one of
the greatest patrons and connoisseurs of the Gothic Revival in the
Rhineland. Although bourgeois Catholics were less prominent in Marian pilgrimages or Corpus Christi processions, their artistic dilettantism
had its spiritual roots. Many contributors to the Cathedral Fund were
non-Catholics, but the Gothic Revival that they supported played a significant role in the the Catholic Revival of that epoch. The Cologne
Cathedral and the commercial enterprises proved to be highly successful ventures for the patriciate and the bourgeoisie, two groups becoming less distinguishable with each passing decade.Through their efforts
the Cologne train station would stand in the cathedral’s shadow with
rails stretching eastward over the Hohenzollern Bridge. Together these
architectural achievements symbolized the myth of German Kultur for
industrialist and shopkeeper alike.11
10
Otto Pfülf, Cardinal von Geissel:Aus seinem handschriftlichen Nachlaß geschildert
(2 vols.; Freiburg i. B., 1895–6), II, 191.
11
Otto Dann (ed.), Religion—Kunst—Vaterland. Der Kölner Dom im 19. Jahrhundert
(Cologne,1983).On Reichensperger,see Volume II of Ludwig Pastor,August Reichensperger,
1808–1895. Sein Leben und sein Wirken auf dem Gebiet der Politik, der Kunst und der
Wissenschaft (2 vols.; Freiburg i. B., 1899); Michael J. Lewis, The Politics of the Gothic Revival:August Reichensperger (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1993).

BY ERIC YONKE

269

Charity and Social Betterment: The Middle Class
in the Catholic Revival

By mid-century religious sentiments were intense. The Catholic Revival coincided with Germany’s industrialization,and there is little doubt
that violent social and political upheaval stirred religious feeling. The
Catholic and Protestant churches experienced a redoubling of their social responsibility as providers of charity,but the plight in urban centers
demanded more care than they could provide. The so-called Social
Question loomed larger with each passing year, and by the 1848 revolution all charitable institutions were overwhelmed. Leaders such as August Reichensperger sent an appeal to all Catholic men to organize
themselves both for the protection of the Church and for the resolution
of the great social crises.
The immediate response was the Catholic Association of Germany,
which has remained an influential voice in German Catholicism down
to the present day. At the first Catholic Conference (Katholikentag) in
1848, the young clergyman Wilhelm Ketteler inspired the gathering of
priests and laymen with his orations on the Social Question, which he
defined as the growing division between rich and poor, possessors and
non-possessors. He emphasized that charity and self-help organizations
would not suffice, but rather a true conversion to Christian poverty and
love of neighbor was needed. Ketteler formulated rudimentary notions
of Christian Socialism in 1848, but his listeners translated the Social
Question into terms they could live with. They saw two fundamental
questions: How can the increased pauperism be curbed, and what is to
be done for the failing artisans? Very few paid serious attention to the
emergent working class. When viewed from the perspective of the
solid citizenry, the Social Question was more than an outdated corporatist ideal of society.12 Four associations integral to the mid-century
Catholic Revival bear out the relationship between middle-class civic
12
Historians have generally criticized the Catholic Church’s handling of the Social
Question, particularly its disregard for the working class before the Christian Trade Union
Movement and Pope Leo XIII’s encyclical Rerum novarum (1891).But an examination of
middle-class Catholics and their Vereine yields new insight into the German Catholic response to the emergent class society. Their inept handling of the working class mirrors
the failure of the Bürgertum in general. For an analysis of Ketteler’s social thought in relationship to liberalism see Adolf Matthias Birke, Bischof Ketteler und der Deutsche Liberalismus. Eine Untersuchung über das Verhältnis des liberalen Katholizismus zum
bürgerlichen Liberalismus in der Reichsgründungszeit (“Veröffentlichungen der Kommission für Zeitgeschichte,” Reihe B: Forschungen,Vol. 9 [Mainz, 1971]). On the history of
the Katholikentage, see Ulrich von Hehl and Friedrich Kronenberg (eds.), Zeitzeichen:
150 Jahre Deutsche Katholikentage, 1848–1998 (Mainz, 1998).

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THE PROBLEM OF THE MIDDLE CLASS IN GERMAN CATHOLIC HISTORY

responsibility and religious goodwill: the St.Vincent de Paul Society, the
Catholic Journeymen’s Association, the St. Charles Borromeo Association, and the St. Joseph Missions Association. These organizations expanded rapidly with the religious revival, and in them the middle-class
citizen found a means of advancing social welfare and expressing a
commitment to Catholic Christianity.
Businessmen and attorneys were the first to import from France the
St.Vincent de Paul Society. Organized on the parish level and placed under the protection of the archbishop, the St.Vincent Society was, nevertheless, a lay ministry. The first local “conferences” attracted doctors,
lawyers, factory owners, and merchants who were required to visit the
poor and establish “mutual respect and friendship.” Municipal authorities generally welcomed the St. Vincent Society. By 1851 eight conferences in the city of Cologne claimed 120 active members,and Cologne’s
Poverty Commission invited the new Society to work in its municipal
asylum for three hundred unemployed laborers. The conferences met
weekly, and two members were assigned to a needy family that received
aid in the form of food, clothing, bed linens, coal, and rent money. When
available, the conferences also gave out books and journals.13
Another important conduit of religious charity and civic concern
was the Catholic Journeymen’s Association founded by Father Adolph
Kolping. Leading Catholic citizens were aware that underemployed
men posed an immediate social and political problem. Freed from the
strictures of closely knit rural society and unable to secure apprenticeships, many young men were becoming rootless daylaborers. Even
those fortunate enough to become apprentices and journeymen struggled to stay out of the almshouses. In 1848 Archbishop Geissel brought
Father Kolping to Cologne to expand his journeymen’s clubs into a network offering food, housing, and instruction to would-be master artisans. Kolping’s work came to define the German Catholic response to
the plight of artisans. Kolping advocated industriousness, piety, and frugality as the essential virtues of the independent artisan. To be “worthy
and competent”(brav und tüchtig) required faith and moral cultivation
as well as technical training. In “Responsibilities of a Worthy Member,”
13
By 1866, the Cologne Archdiocese had over one hundred conferences, and the Trier
Diocese had five. Middle-class women joined the ancillary Elizabeth Society. Max Brandts,
Die katholischen Wohlthätigkeits- Anstalten und -Vereine sowie das katholisch-sociale
Vereinswesen insbesondere in der Erzdiözese Köln (Cologne, 1895), pp. 36–46; Hermann Bolzau (ed.),Vinzenzgeist und Vinzenzverein. Festgabe zum Hundertjährigen
Bestehen des Vinzenzvereins (“Vereinsschrift der Görresgesellschaft,” Vol. 1 [Cologne,
1933]), pp. 17–30.

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271

Kolping wrote that the journeyman must work hard to master a skill
and secure an honest living, but to do this required high esteem for
performance and self-reliance. He stressed civic excellence based on
“honesty and good faith toward everyone.” The journeyman was
admonished to avoid taverns and respect legal authority. Through a virtuous life bolstered by solid values, he could strive toward the status of
master artisan and, Kolping emphasized, independent citizen. In its
message and methods, the Catholic Journeymen’s Association resembled Protestant and state-funded efforts to promote sobriety, frugality,
and industry.14
Father Kolping articulated in the Catholic context basic values
shared by industrialists, and his organization relied on the middle class.
Peter Michels, a prominent woolhouse owner and one of Cologne’s
wealthiest citizens, the attorney and royal counsellor Rainer Wilhelm
Wallraf,the Clerk of Court Franz Müller,and the Bachem publishing family were among the key benefactors and board members of the association. Kolping further relied on Catholic and Protestant parliamentarians
to secure the association’s legal recognition, as well as Archbishop Geissel to intervene privately with the Prussian king.15 Kolping’s association
thus prospered with the support of middle-class benefactors who believed in its message and its work for society.
Middle-class Catholics encouraged moral cultivation and selfimprovement through other means as well. A good example is the St.
Charles Borromeo Association for the Promotion of Good Literature,
which was founded shortly before the 1848 revolution. August Reichensperger, initiator and co-founder of the Borromeo Association, stated
that in the 1840’s “Catholic writers and publishers were a quickly disappearing minority in comparison with the non-Catholic. . . . Of particular
concern was the reading material that the public found at the lending libraries.”16 Leading intellectuals of the early Ultramontane movement had
14
In Richard Tilly’s definition of the Bürgertum, for example, he includes high esteem
for performance, self-reliance, and free competition as Unternehmermoral. Kolping
would disagree with an amoral concept of free competition. Richard Tilly,“Unternehmermoral und -verhalten im 19. Jahrhundert. Indizien deutscher Bürgerlichkeit,” in Kocka
(ed.), op. cit., II, 35–64. Kolping’s association was open to Protestant journeymen, but excluded apprentices, factory workers, and Jews. See Sarah Neitzel, Priests and Journeymen: The German Catholic Gesellenverein and the Christian Social Movement in the
Nineteenth Century (“Schriften zur Rheinischen Geschichte,”Vol. 7 [Bonn, 1987]); Adolf
Kolping, Wanderbüchlein für Mitglied des Kath. Gesellen-Vereins (Münster, 1874), p. 11.
15
Neitzel, op. cit., pp. 42–43, 65–66.
16
Quoted in Wilhelm Spael, Das Buch im Geisteskampf. 100 Jahre Borromäusverein
(Bonn, 1950), p. 27.

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THE PROBLEM OF THE MIDDLE CLASS IN GERMAN CATHOLIC HISTORY

called for a literary synthesis of Catholic life and national culture. The
Borromeo Association (Borromäusverein) answered that call, partially,
by providing a Catholic alternative to secular and Protestant literature.
Reichensperger and the other founders of the Borromeo Association believed that secular literature was endangering morality, and that their
new organization should enter the nineteenth century’s literary mass
market, trusting that Catholic literature would provide a “remedy against
so many evils of the age”such as atheism, revolution, and Liberalism.The
Borromeo Association applied membership dues to purchase books directly from publishing houses, finance a Catholic press, and establish
parish libraries. It succeeded in establishing ninety-six branches in its
first year and continued expanding through the 1860’s. The lion’s share
of its funds (nearly twenty-one thousand thaler in 1852) purchased
books, which a central office sold to branch libraries and individual
members. The venture proved so successful that local booksellers complained of unfair business practices, which led to a joint inquiry by the
Ministry of Commerce and the Ministry of Religious Affairs in Berlin.
Both ministries concluded in 1854 that the Borromeo Association would
offer only religious literature. By 1870, the association claimed nearly fifteen hundred branches with over seventeen thousand members and
over thirty-six thousand “users” throughout Germany.17
While the Borromeo Association is clearly linked to the Catholic Revival and the Ultramontane movement,18 the impetus to promote good
literature among the Catholic population stems from earlier religious
and social concerns.Some Rhenish clergymen had promoted reading cir17
See Jeffrey T. Zalar,“‘Knowledge Is Power’: The Borromäusverein and Catholic Reading Habits in Imperial Germany,” Catholic Historical Review, 86 ( January, 2000), 20–47;
Joseph Felten, Die Gründung und Thätigkeit des Vereins vom heiligen Karl Borromäus.
Festschrift zum fünfzigjährigen Jubelfeste des Vereins am 30.Mai 1895 (Cologne, 1985);
Pastor, op. cit., II, 291–294. On the legal dispute over book sales see Königliche Regierung,
Abtheilung des Innern, Cologne, to Ober-Präsident Kleist-Retzow, Koblenz, September 20,
1853, LHAK 403: 10749, fols. 125–134; Minister für Handel, Gewerbe etc. (von Heydt) und
der Minister der geistlichen Angelegenheiten (von Raumer), Berlin, to Ober-Präsident
Kleist-Retzow, Koblenz, May 1, 1854, LHAK 403:10749, fols. 145–148.
18
Two of the co-founders were Franz Xavier Dieringer and Johannes Baudri. Dieringer
had served as editor of one of the earliest Ultramontane journals in Germany, Der Katholik, and Archbishop Geissel was instrumental in his appointment to the Bonn faculty. Baudri was Geissel’s right hand in the Cologne Cathedral chapter and leader of the
Ultramontane movement in the archdiocese. See Heinrich Linn, Ultramontanismus in
Köln: Domkapitular Baudri an der Seite Erzbischof Geissels während des Vormärz
(“Studien zur Kirchengeschichte,” Vol. 22 [Siegburg, 1987]); Eduard Hegel (ed.),
Geschichte des Erzbistums Köln,Vol. 5: Das Erzbistum Köln zwischen der Restauration
des 19.Jahrhunderts und der Restauration des 20.Jahrhunderts 1815–1962, by Eduard
Hegel (Cologne, 1987), pp. 70–85.

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cles as early as the eighteenth century, and priests well outside the Ultramontane movement formed reading circles and lending libraries in their
rectories. The Borromeo Association facilitated and greatly expanded
these efforts so that reading circles and parish libraries could offer a
greater variety of “good books”and make reading part of the religious revival. This organization provided a means for Catholic literature and its
messages to reach most Catholics in a modern society, consciously promoting the value of reading good books as a means to self-betterment,
moral fortification, and self-discipline. Ultramontane and Liberal Catholics
certainly agreed on the fundamental principle promoted by the Borromeo Association, even if their reading lists might differ.19
A final example of middle-class initiative in the Catholic Revival can
be found in the missionary societies. These highly successful associations took primarily three forms: support for priests converting native
peoples in Africa and in eastern Asia, an inner-mission to Catholics living in Protestant regions of Germany, and aid societies for Germans
who had emigrated to west European countries and North America.
Mission societies usually remained in the hands of the parish laity, who
channeled resources into a diocesan office. The diocesan chancery
then disbursed monies to religious orders working in the field or to dioceses seeking such aid.The average citizen thus participated in the missions by belonging to societies whose sole purpose was to raise money
for national and international efforts. Yet the missionary organizations
had a unique relationship to the broader social question. Missions to
Western Europe and North America were a form of charity for Germans
who chose to leave Central Europe.
This link between the Social Question and the missions can be seen
clearly in the St. Joseph Missions Association. In 1862 a group of businessmen, physicians, and civil servants in Aachen presented Archbishop Geissel with their plan for an organization to aid German
emigrants. Under the auspices of the Catholic Association of Germany
the newly formed society sought the archbishop’s approval and pro19
Much less successful than the libraries was the Borromeo Association’s attempt
to launch a Catholic daily newspaper in the 1850’s: the Kölnische Volkshalle, later
named Deutsche Volkshalle.Karl Bringmann,Die Konfessionell-Politische Tagespresse des
Niederrheins im 19. Jahrhundert. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Presse und des Kulturkampfes im Rheinland mit Aktenstücken (Düsseldorf, 1938), p. 158; Karl Bachem,
Joseph Bachem. Seine Familie und die Firma J.P. Bachem in Köln. Die Rheinische und
die Deutsche Volkshalle.Die Kölnische Blätter und die Kölnische Volkshalle,Vol. 2: 1848
bis 1860 (Cologne, 1912). On the diversity of political opinion among contemporary
Catholic Rhinelanders, see Jonathan Sperber, Rhineland Radicals: The Democratic
Movement and the Revolution of 1848–9 (Princeton, 1991), pp. 276–289.

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THE PROBLEM OF THE MIDDLE CLASS IN GERMAN CATHOLIC HISTORY

tection. To convince the archbishop of the necessity of the St. Joseph
Association, the founders wrote:
Over thirty thousand German Catholics live in London, lost among a
mostly Protestant population of three million; nearly all are poor people,
driven by necessity from their homeland to this collecting point of commerce and industry in order to search there for work and bread. Most find
there neither work nor bread, only privation, misery, and death. But all are
suspended in constant and most imminent danger, with their faith and
their morals giving way in this pool of godlessness and depravity.If the bigoted and impious Anglican opens his hand to throw alms to the languishing foreigners, he does so usually only for the higher glory of his religion
and virtue; apostasy and prostitution are for them the open way to quick
and vital sustenance.20

The connection between emigration and the Social Question was clear.
The St. Joseph Missions Association aided Germans searching for better
living conditions and more promising labor opportunities, usually in
the United States.An increasing number of clergymen were traveling to
places such as Minnesota in the 1860’s and 1870’s to minister to burgeoning communities of German Catholics. Archbishop Geissel introduced a yearly collection to support the association which in 1865
raised over 2,700 Thaler.21
Voluntary charitable associations, such as those described here, were
in fact mediators between church and state on the local level. By 1857,
Cologne had four Catholic hospitals in addition to its two municipal
hospitals and one city orphanage. Düsseldorf had a Catholic and a
Lutheran orphanage as well as one Lutheran hospital and a state-funded
hospital.22 As social welfare needs grew, church and state each expanded its efforts, but neither was adequate. A complex of state and
church welfare organizations developed in the Rhineland after midcentury in which state monies supported religious-based hospitals and
orphanages. Religious groups such as the St. Vincent Society tended to
the needs of impoverished people living in municipal shelters. The initiative for church-state co-operation on the local level often stemmed
from the middle class—from men like Hermann Josef Dietz in Koblenz,
an industrialist and founder of several charitable organizations who also
20
Letter from the Vorstand in Aachen to Archbishop Geissel, 1862, Historisches Archiv
des Erzbistums Köln (hereafter HAEK) 22. 16,1:11400. The founders included the
wealthy businessman Victor Monheim, the municipal librarian Joseph Laurent, the physician Debey, and the attorney Joseph Lingens.
21
Ibid.
22
Adress-Buch der Bürgermeisterei Düsseldorf, pp. 184–191.

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served as a city councilor.23 As mediator between church and state, associations promoted by the Catholic middle class exercised a strong influence on local communities.

Middle Class Casinos and Reading Circles in the Catholic Milieu

Through cultural and charitable work, middle-class Catholics found a
niche in the community and developed a self-conscious identity, which
by the 1850’s manifested itself in social clubs and reading circles where
middle-class Catholics met and socialized outside the parish and the
voluntary association. Catholic social clubs mirrored a concern for cultivated society and social distinction. They also played a significant role
in local politics. Despite sporadic police intervention, Catholic social
clubs prospered throughout the Rhineland in the decades before German unification and the Kulturkampf. Three examples from Aachen,
Düsseldorf, and Koblenz illustrate this point.
Constantia was the name of Aachen’s Catholic civic club,a gathering
place for the upper-middle class. Legally recognized in 1853, Constantia
represented “ultramontane power” to Prussian local authorities. “As a
Catholic association,” its statutes begin,“Constantia combines social entertainment with the promotion of religious and civil interests.”24 Beyond orchestrating local politics, Constantia helped to found the
Karlsverein for the reconstruction of Aachen’s cathedral and facilitated
the legal return of Jesuits to the city. In 1862 Aachen’s police director
described Constantia’s influence:
One cannot deny the society Constantia credit for extraordinarily good
discipline. The leaders have excellent local and personal recognition and
there is no shortage of people who have the time in excess to direct each
of its posts.Although not the most numerous, Constantia is the king of the
social societies; its arm reaches the farthest and through the Pius Association stretches into the lowest strata of society.25
23
For an example of middle-class efforts in Koblenz, see J[ohannes] Jonas, Geschichte
der kath. Unterrichts- und Erziehungs-Anstalten im Kemperhof bei Coblenz. Festschrift
zur Feier des 50jährigen Bestehens des Knaben-Waisenshauses (Koblenz, 1901). On the
Catholic Church and the hospitals, see Erwin Gatz, Kirche und Krankenpflege im 19.
Jahrhundert. Katholische Bewegung und karitativer Aufbruch in den preussischen
Provinzen Rheinland und Westphalen (Munich, Paderborn,Vienna, 1971).
24
Philip Wahrmuth, Zur Geschichte des Aachener katholischen Bürger- und WahlVereins “Constantia” [Aus Anlass der Jubelfeier seines fünfzigjähriges Bestehens. Ein
Beitrag zur Geschichte der katholischen Vereine] (Aachen, 1894), p. 42.
25
Nordrhein Westfälisches Hauptstaatsarchiv (hereafter NWHStA), Reg. Aachen Präsidium 780, p. 59.

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THE PROBLEM OF THE MIDDLE CLASS IN GERMAN CATHOLIC HISTORY

The membership rosters attached to the director’s report substantiate
the assessment. Over half of Constantia’s membership were professionals, wealthy businessmen, and industrialists. Only four clergymen belonged to the club in 1856,whereas forty-seven shopkeepers and artisans
were members. By 1862, the percentage of white-collar employees,
shopkeepers, and artisans was growing substantially, but the uppermiddle class was still predominant.26
Constantia’s members created their own purely social club in 1860
called the New Casino. Aachen’s Police Director explained:
Only the thoroughbred have entrance there, and so the exchange of opinions is extraordinary. Matters of the newspapers and other journals are discussed there and all of the questions of the day—the Italian Question, the
measures of the French government against the Pope, the Vincent Association, the founding of a new cloister in Aachen, the Marian Church, Aurelius Street, the concordats with Austria, Württemberg, and Baden, etc.—are
debated in all geniality.27

In a predominantly Catholic city such as Aachen, the Catholic Bürgertum could sustain its own civic and social organizations with only moderate police intervention and separate from non-Catholics.28
In most cities, the Catholic elite were not so prevalent. Düsseldorf
was more confessionally mixed than Aachen; yet the Catholics there
managed to support seven parishes, ten voluntary associations, two orphanages, and five poverty relief funds. Düsseldorf had a small Catholic
reading circle in the 1840’s, which the local Pius Association subsumed
26
Local police reported in 1853 that Aachen had six Catholic organizations. In addition
to the Borromeo Association, the Catholic Journeymen’s Association, and the St. Vincent
Society, there existed a Sunday Society (for working men), a Pius Association, and Constantia:Polizei Direction (Hasslacher) to Regierung Präsident Kühlwetter,Aachen,August
25, 1853, NWHStA, Reg. Aachen Präsidium 780, pp. 4–7, 37–40, 61–66. Wahrmuth, op. cit.,
pp. 43–68. Other police records and the city address book helped verify the social status
of Constantia’s membership: NWHStA Polizei Präsidium Aachen 260; Vollständiges
Adressbuch von Aachen und Burtscheid (Aachen, 1850).
27
NWHStA, Reg. Aachen Präsidium 780, p. 59.
28
The term “casino” was used commonly to describe a social club in the nineteenth
century. According to the club’s own history, Dr. Joseph Lingens, a leader in Catholic circles and co-founder of the St. Joseph Missions Society, was denied membership in
Aachen’s Casino. His staunch advocacy of political Catholicism appears to have created
enough personal animosity between him and some Casino members that he fell five votes
short of acceptance. The affront to Lingens led to the creation of the New Casino, dominated by members of Constantia in the same inn as Constantia. Of the fifty-seven
founders, ten remained members of the original Casino, and sixteen were members of
Aachen’s Entertainment Society. Joseph Oppenhoff, Geschichte der Gesellschaft NeuCasino zu Aachen: ein Überblick über 80 Jahre (Aachen, 1940), pp. 3–17.

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during the 1848 revolution and then helped re-establish under the
name “Catholic Social and Reading Association.”This lower-middle-class
club met several evenings during the week offering lectures and debate
of current issues.In 1856 Düsseldorf’s upper-middle-class Catholics created their own Casino Society,whose life revolved around its small reading room. Lacking the political clout of Aachen’s Constantia, the
Reading Association and the Casino Society were quiet enclaves in
Düsseldorf until 1859. In that year, the clubs led an initiative to erect a
monument to the Immaculate Conception,which Pope Pius IX had promulgated as dogma five years earlier. When the monument was completed in 1865, a public dispute ensued over an appropriate location.
The conflict drew all of Düsseldorf’s Catholic groups into public
purview, and ultimately the monument found a home in a quiet city
square.29
In the midst of these tensions, Düsseldorf’s middle-class Catholics
established another organization called Confidentia. According to a
mayor’s report during the Kulturkampf:
Confidentia is an association consisting of young people of the cultivated
estates (Stände) and recruited from the businessmen and the artists. Many
young business people are obligated to enter the association, because
members receive appointments more easily. . . . Young artists, Catholics
naturally, join in order to ease their progress within the [Royal] Academy
[of Art], where it is well known that the Catholic party presides.30

The ability to construct a social gateway, such as Confidentia, suggests
the relative strength and the defensiveness of the Catholic middle class
in Düsseldorf by the late 1860’s.
Circumstances in Koblenz, home of the provincial government, were
similar to those in Düsseldorf only in the relative percentage of Protestants to Catholics. The Catholic elites in Koblenz could not influence
local politics as they did in Aachen, but were well organized and connected to Catholic leaders throughout Germany. Koblenz’s Catholic
29
On the Casino, its library and membership see “Den katholischen Gesellen und Leseverein,”Stadtarchiv Düsseldorf II 1398; NWHStA, Reg. Düsseldorf Präsidium 920. On the
disputed Mariensäule see Peter Odenkirchen to the Polizei Direction, Düsseldorf, January 24, 1859, StAD II 1398; Norbert Schloßmacher, Düsseldorf im Bismarckreich. Politik
und Wahlen. Parteien und Vereine (“Düsseldorfer Schriften zur Neueren Landesgeschichte und zur Geschichte Nordrhein-Westfalens,” Vol. 15 [Düsseldorf, 1985]), pp.
33–36. Catholic organizations were verified in Adreß-Buch der Bürgermeisterei Düsseldorf (Düsseldorf, 1855), pp. 184–191.
30
Abtheilung des Innern an Minister des Innern zu Berlin, August 11, 1874, NWHStA,
Regierung Düsseldorf 288, p. 138.

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THE PROBLEM OF THE MIDDLE CLASS IN GERMAN CATHOLIC HISTORY

Reading Association, founded in 1863 by three lawyers, a physician, and
a school headmaster, claimed over six hundred members within three
years of its creation.The vast majority were lower-middle class, but fully
one-quarter of its membership was from the upper-middle class. An
anonymous writer for Eucharius, the weekly journal of the Trier Diocese, described the “true Catholic” spirit of the Koblenz club in 1863:
That the glimpse of some two hundred and fifty men of all ages and from
all estates, as they sat comfortably with their half-pints in front of them in
a spacious and rather beautiful hall, now listening to the strains of the music, now entertaining themselves in the most unaffected fashion, that such
a glimpse made my heart leap for joy, you can imagine. Far from all snobbery, there sat the state official and the wealthy man next to the artisan;
also the table at which the twelve members of the directing board took
their places presented me with the attorney, the physician, the butcher,
the clockmaker, etc., in the most genial harmony next to one another.That
is truly Catholic!31

Koblenz was the only Rhenish city in which a single social club served
all Catholic citizens. Given its size, its historical links to the early Ultramontane movement, and its proximity to the provincial government,
Catholic society in Koblenz was more cohesive than in other cities. In
this respect Koblenz was unique.32
Catholic middle-class clubs functioned much like their counterparts
outside the religious milieu. Many organized charity concerts, balls, and
art exhibitions to attract wealthy donors for worthy causes such as orphanages. Such a fund-raising strategy could hardly have originated
with the Ultramontane clergy, though the diocesan hierarchy was generally supportive of these efforts.The balls and exhibitions also increased
contact between the Catholic citizens of the Rhenish cities, which in
turn affected the early development of political Catholicism. The clubs
did not center around religious practice or education; rather they nurtured that social environment so important for the middle class where
suitable marriages and informal business arrangements were cinched.
Yet they were exclusively Catholic and, with the exception of Koblenz,
socially stratified. One needs only to survey the maiden names of the
wives of prominent Rhenish Catholic politicians and businessmen to
31
“Ein Abend im >>katholischen Leseverein<< zu Coblenz,” Eucharius. Sonntagsblatt
für die Diöcese Trier, May 10, 1863.
32
Koblenz was home to a circle of families prominent in the Catholic Revival:the Görres,
Lasaulx, and Dietz families. Heinrich Wolf, “Im Geiste des grossen Görres. Chronik des
Katholischen Lesevereins” in Koblenz und sein katholischer Leseverein (Herausgegeben
1963 aus Anlass des hundertjährigen Bestehens des Katholischen Lesevereins); Christoph
Weber, Aufklärung und Orthodoxie am Mittelrhein 1820–1850 (Paderborn, 1973).

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279

realize that the pool of suitable marriage partners defined by social status and religion was rather shallow. Catholic club life was a public expression of a somewhat clannish, bourgeois society.33
Conclusion

Karl Bachem, himself a product of Cologne’s Catholic Bürgertum,
documented firsthand the importance of middle-class club life for the
Center Party in the Rhineland.34 The casinos and reading circles mixed
politics with family and business, and the embattled Catholic cause of
1870 provided an entirely new set of political challenges and opportunities.The birth of the German Empire,the First Vatican Council,and the
Kulturkampf hardened political boundaries, enervated liberal Catholics
momentarily, and invigorated the Ultramontane movement. The number of Catholic organizations trebled during the Kaiserreich. New businessmen’s associations linked white-collar employees and traveling
salesmen more closely to Catholic society. An educated middle class
was cultivated in Catholic fraternities and the Görres Society for the
Protection of Wissenschaft in Catholic Germany. By the turn of the century, student fraternities and businessmen’s clubs helped complete a
vast political and social network begun in the casinos. Hence the significance of the middle class in political Catholicism has been well
known for some time, particularly on the level of local and regional politics. Through civic involvement as well as regional and national association, middle-class Rhinelanders were perhaps the most politically
engaged segment of the Catholic population.
Yet too much emphasis on political Catholicism tends to shift attention away from the essentially religious identity of the Catholic community and conflate the public life of modern German Catholics with
the Center Party.35 As Thomas Mergel has illustrated, the small number
33
There are several local cases that bear this out. See Ferdinand Walter, Aus meinem
Leben (Bonn, 1865), pp. 152–162. On orphanages funded by Catholic social elites in Düsseldorf and Koblenz, see NWHStA, Regierungsbezirk Düsseldorf, Nr. 29812, pp. 1–27; Paul
Kauhausen, Hundert Jahre Katholischer Waisenverein Düsseldorf 1851–1951 (Düsseldorf, 1951), pp. 11–16; Jonas, op. cit., pp. 11–13; Max Bär, Aus der Geschichte der Stadt
Koblenz 1814–1914 (Koblenz, 1922), pp. 258–260.
34
Bachem’s acute sensitivity to the bourgeois element in political Catholicism was
nearly forgotten as the social and charitable organizations were simply folded into the
subsequent histories of “associational Catholicism” (Verbandskatholizismus). See Karl
Bachem, Josef Bachem,Vol. 2.
35
The Center Party was the voice of Catholic concerns in the Imperial Reichstag, but
standard histories have been careful not to conflate the Center Party and the entire German Catholic voting public. Catholic support for the Center Party remained solid during

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THE PROBLEM OF THE MIDDLE CLASS IN GERMAN CATHOLIC HISTORY

of bourgeois Catholics who felt greater affinity toward liberal or nationalist politics either formed a small minority in the Center Party or
joined another party. The political expression of Ultramontanism was
for them an unnecessary hindrance to Germany’s political progress.
Maintaining a critical distance from the Ultramontane movement, very
few bourgeois Catholics felt compelled to leave the Roman Church.
What we should see in the cultural and charitable initiatives is an intense effort to construct civil society in which middle-class Catholics
played a vital role. Their organizations showed the vitality of both the
Catholic Revival and the nineteenth-century middle class. Indeed, the
middle class deferred to traditional elites within the institutional
church, while continuing to contribute meaningfully to the Catholic
community. Cultural and charitable organizations gave the middle class
a significant task in a local church community being redefined by modern civil society. Catholic citizens continued to develop their charity
work, civic engagement, and parish life during the Kaiserreich, combining religious identity with civic-minded voluntarism. The middle
class can thus be understood as an influential group that was indeed the
“least consistent” in the Volkskirche, but one that shaped the civic life
of German Catholics. Civil society, the realm of the Catholic citizen, deserves far greater attention in religious history. Middle-class citizens represent the diversity in nineteenth-century Catholic society, and their
history renders potentially important linkages to the “bourgeois
Church” of post-1945 Europe and North America.

the Kaiserreich, with notable crises and electoral losses shortly before World War I and
thereafter. But even at the height of the Kulturkampf, seventeen percent of eligible
Catholic voters did not support the Center Party in Reichstag elections. A good summary
of the Center Party’s history before World War I can be found in Noel D. Cary, The Path to
Christian Democracy: German Catholics and the Party System from Windthorst to Adenauer (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1996), pp. 26–47; see also Karl-Egon Lönne, Politischer
Katholizismus im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert [Neue Folge, Vol. 264] (Mainz, 1986); Ellen
Lovell Evans, The German Center Party, 1870–1933 (Edwardsville and Carbondale, Illinois, 1981); see Sperber, Popular Catholicism, pp. 253–276.

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THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN ESTONIA, 1918–2001
BY

VELLO SALO*

In the Middle Ages, Estonia was Catholic for roughly four centuries
(1227–1626). Under Swedish rule (1561–1710) the Catholic faith was
forbidden and, after the expulsion of the last faithful in 1626, the Catholic tradition in Estonia was totally wiped out.1 Under the Russian Emperors (1710–1918),as the Catholic religion was permitted again,a diaspora
Catholic community was born,belonging to the Archdiocese of Mohilev,
which covered all Russia. Four missions (later parishes) were created:
Tallinn (German: Reval, Russian: Revel, 1786), Narva (1835), Tartu (German: Dorpat, Russian: Jurjew, 1849), and Valga (German: Valk, 1915).
They took care of Catholics, belonging to different nationalities of the
Russian Empire.2 For the Estonians, it remained a church of foreigners.
The First Apostolic Administrator:
Antonino Zecchini, S.J., 1924–1931

After the Russian revolution of 1917,Estonia and its neighbors (Finland,
Latvia, and Lithuania) grasped the opportunity to gain their national independence. In the year 1918 Estonians proclaimed the Republic of Estonia,
a democratic state, which granted all citizens the freedom of religion.3
*Monsignor Salo is a professor emeritus of Old Testament exegesis in the University of
Toronto and is currently chaplain of St. Brigid’s Monastery near Tallinn. This article is
based on a manuscript with the title Estonia Catholica, which should be published in
2002 (in Estonian).
1
There is no information about Catholics in Estonia for the period 1626–1770.
2
See Robert Aubert, “Estonie,” in Dictionnaire d’Histoire et de Géographie Ecclésiastiques, XV (1963), 1068–1080; Boleslaw Kumor,“Estonia,” in Encyklopedia Katolicka, IV
(1983), 1153–1155.
3
Independence manifesto (February 24,1918),§§ 1 and 3;[First] Constitution of the Estonian Republic (1920), §§ 6 and 11. The separation of the State from the Church was de-

281

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For the Catholics in the new independent States of the Baltic region,
the political independence meant also ecclesiastical reorganization.
The first step was the passage (1918) of Estonia from the jurisdiction of
Mohilev to the newly re-erected Diocese of Riga (which had been the
center of the Crusades against Estonia in the thirteenth century, and
then the metropolitan see for Estonia’s three Catholic dioceses until
1560). A second step was prepared and brought to conclusion by Archbishop Antonino Zecchini, who was first nominated Apostolic Visitor
for the three Baltic States (1921), then Apostolic Delegate for the same
(1922), and finally (1924) the first Apostolic Administrator of Estonia.
This new Apostolic Administration was immediately subject to the Holy
See, and thus no longer to the Archbishop of Riga. Until the present day
Estonia has remained an Apostolic Administration.
In the year 1918 there were only four Catholic parishes (Tallinn,Tartu,
Narva, and Valga) in Estonia, all of them urban communities. Before the
beginning of World War I, there had been some 6,000 Catholics in Estonia, but as many of them were military and civil servants of the Russian
Empire and after its collapse emigrated from Estonia, the first Estonian
census (1922) found only 2,536 Catholics (or 0.2% of a total population
of 1,107,000, vs. 79% Lutherans and 19% Orthodox) in the country.4
It was a little flock, but dispersed in many small groups, a typical Diaspora church. About the half of all the faithful resided in the capital
city, Tallinn, forming the only sizable congregation. The main problem
of the new Administrator was regular pastoral care for all those small
groups outside Tallinn. Moreover, there was the language question to
complicate the situation: a traveling priest or catechizer would have
needed the knowledge of at least five languages (Polish, Lithuanian,
German, Russian, and Estonian). Many of the Catholics were of Polish
and Lithuanian origin, who did not speak Estonian at all (until 1918
they did not need to,as everybody was able to communicate in Russian,
the language of the Empire); this is why the Estonians used the name
“the Polish church.” Indeed, this was the prevailing language in the
most visible parish, that of Tallinn.

clared in 1925 (de facto the separation had been there since the beginning of the independence). A special Law on Religious Associations and Their Alliances was issued in
1925 (revised in 1935), regulating the registration of religious bodies. There was no discrimination against the Catholics.
4
For more detail see Helmut Risch,“Die estnische apostolische-rechtgläubige Kirche,”
Kyrios, 2 (1937), 121 and 133; for full reference Hugo Reiman,“Kirikuelu 1922–29,” Eesti
Statistika, 12 (1930), 721ff.

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283

At the beginning of his pastoral service (1924) Archbishop Zecchini
had only three priests to take care of his four parishes, one diocesan
and two Jesuit fathers (born respectively in Latvia, Luxembourg, and
Germany). Fortunately, these parishes possessed relatively new
churches: built in 1845 (in Tallinn), 1899 (in Tartu), and 1907 (in Narva
and Valga). Unfortunately, the Archbishop had to reside outside Estonia,
as he became also papal nuncio for Latvia. His diplomatic tasks did not
give him much time for pastoral work, as even the legal conditions for
the activity of the Catholic Church in Estonia had to be worked out on a
governmental level, all of his three priests being of non-Estonian origin.5
Among other things, he had to work out extensive parish statutes, required by the Estonian laws for religious communities.6
As the main object of Archbishop Zecchini’s efforts was to lay the
foundations for the normal functioning of his four parishes, approaching Estonians was out of the question, and not intended by him. Even
so, he was glad to ordain (1926) a young man who had begun his seminary studies before Zecchini came to Estonia. His was the first Catholic
ordination in Estonia since the Lutheran reformation. The new priest,
Leon Abraitis was born in Estonia to Lithuanian parents, but also spoke
Estonian and worked first in the parish of Tallinn, then in Narva. Unfortunately, he died after a service of only four years (1930).
Another hopeful beginning was made in 1928, as an Estonian orthodox priest wished to join the Catholic Church. Zecchini accepted him
and, as early as 1929, opened a Catholic chapel of Byzantine rite, where
Estonian was the liturgical language. But it did not work out due to various reasons, and the chapel was closed in 1934.7
In 1918 a tiny Catholic catechism (twenty-four pages, published in
1866)8 was the only printed information the Church had to offer to Estonians,the bulk of the Catholics possessing copious religious literature
in their respective languages. This situation did not change during the
first Administrator’s service;only one small leaflet of prayers was added.
5
Zecchini had been instrumental in preparing the Concordat of 1922 between Latvia
and the Holy See. In Estonia he was preparing the ground for an eventual agreement. It
should be noted that Vatican archival materials can be consulted only on matters prior to
the year 1922.
6
See fn. 3.
7
The second Administrator (Eduard Profittlich) preferred Narva as the residence for
the priests of the Byzantine rite (also called Uniates), and the residence was transferred
from Haapsalu to Narva.
8
This was a bilingual booklet, Katholischer Katechismus / Kattoliko Katekismus, by
Johann Ignaz von Felbiger (Narva, 1866), forty-eight pages.

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The Second Apostolic Administrator:
Eduard Profittlich, S.J., 1931–1941

A new, more promising period began under the second Administrator, who was sent to Estonia in 1930 to help out with parish work, as
there were only two priests left. These two were Jesuits, and so was Father Profittlich, born 1890 in Germany, but he was also fluent in Polish.
As he proved to be suitable for the task, he was named Apostolic Administrator a year later (1931). Unfortunately, he was given only a short
time—ten years—in this office.
Father Profittlich was a hard-working priest who realistically assessed
the needs of the faithful and his own possibilities. Moreover, he was appreciated for his pastoral qualities and people of different views, even
atheists, came to him for spiritual counseling. His activity was appreciated by Pope Pius XI;on December 27,1936,he received episcopal consecration in Tallinn. As Bishop Eduard had already obtained Estonian
nationality,he was the first citizen of this Republic to be elevated to this
dignity in the Catholic Church.
The second Administrator had inherited from his predecessor the task
of taking care of the small groups of faithful dispersed all over Estonia. He
had luck in finding more priests and other helpers,among both his fellow
Jesuits and German Capuchins: in the year 1939, which may be regarded
the high point of his activity, there were fourteen priests, five religious
brothers, and fifteen sisters to take care of ten parishes. He also managed
to find funds to finance his pastoral activities, for the small number of
faithful was not able to give substantial contributions. Thus, by 1939, the
young Administration had received a solid pastoral organization.
Since his arrival in Tallinn, Profittlich was convinced that the Church
of Estonia had to be open to Estonians. As the other churches of the
country had traditionally close ties to certain nationalities, he had to
convince his basically alien flock to accept his idea. To resolve difficulties of this kind, his former sojourn in Poland proved to be a great help
regarding the Polish group. To be sure, the Administrator gave a good
example, beginning very soon to preach in Estonian. With all this, Profittlich did not want any proselytism9 and warned his helpers against it.
He naturally would not try to reject sincere seekers, and there was a
small, but growing number of converts.10
9
The census of 1934 registered 2,234 Catholics, slightly less than twelve years earlier.
(For more detail, consult Risch, op. cit., p. 133, and Hugo Reiman, “Kirikuelu 1930–34,”
Eesti Statistika, 160 (1935), 126–130.
10
One of them, Ignace Lepp, came from Marxism, began to study theology, and was ordained a priest. He later became an internationally known author (writing some twenty-

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285

From the beginning of his ministry, one of Profittlich’s main objectives was religious education and religious vocations. A boarding home
for boys in Tallinn and a kindergarten in Narva were among his first
foundations. He also pioneered the publication of Catholic books and
periodicals in Estonian. In 1931 a Catholic catechism11 appeared, in
1932 a missal for the faithful, in 1933 the monthly Kiriku Elu (The Life
of the Church), and, in 1935, the quarterly Ühine Kirik (The Shared
Church), dedicated to church union themes. His personal contribution
as a theological writer was remarkable: in seven years he published at
least 127 articles in Estonian. A series of them was even published in
book form. In 1935 a church-owned printing office began to operate. In
1940 the first two Gospels in a new translation with commentary were
printed there.12 They were a part of a new Catholic New Testament edition. The printing of the Gospel of Luke was interrupted by the Soviets,
who confiscated the shop.
In the early 1930’s there were great hopes for a possible union with
the Orthodox Churches. As both Estonian- and Russian-speaking Orthodox communities were present in Estonia, Profittlich tried to start
the dialogue in more than one way. In Narva (a town on the eastern border of Estonia,with almost 8,000 Orthodox) a Catholic chapel of Byzantine rite was opened as early as 1932, followed by a kindergarten in
1933. The chapel was taken care of by two Dutch Capuchin Fathers,the
kindergarten by three Polish nuns.
One of the pioneers in the ecumenical field was a French Jesuit, Father Charles Bourgeois, who came to Estonia in 1932 and, after working
for some years in Haapsalu and in Narva, founded a small monastery of
the Byzantine rite at Esna (Central Estonia), from where he edited the
unionist quarterly and organized conferences in various places. Like
Bishop Eduard, Father Vassily (his monastic name) was soon fluent in
Estonian.13
In 1935 two Estonian Orthodox seminarians joined the Church, and
Bishop Profittlich sent them to Rome to follow their studies for the
five books, mainly about religion, philosophy, and psychology, translated in many languages), especially because of his autobiographical book From Karl Marx to Jesus Christ
(1st English edition 1958). Lepp lived and worked in France. Another convert of Bishop
Profittlich was Alexander Dordett, who similarly became a priest. He later worked as a
professor in the University of Vienna.
11
Katoliku usu katekismus (Tallinn, 1931), 101 pages.
12
Uus Testament, Greeka keelest tõlkinud ja lühidalt seletanud Henri Verling (Tallinn,
1940). Püha Markuse evangeelium (Tallinn, 1940).
13
He has published on overview of his activities in Estonia and Moscow: Charles Bourgeois, S.J., A Priest in Russia and the Baltic (London, 1955).

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MISCELLANY

priesthood. They had found their way without contacting Catholics,
though. At the same time, Alexander Dordett and Ignace Lepp (mentioned above) were studying theology, and Profittlich was glad to have
four seminarians preparing themselves to continue his work.
Besides all this, Bishop Eduard had to dedicate considerable time to
diplomatic questions. His predecessor had brought about the concordat between Latvia and the Holy See. He also had initiated talks with the
Estonian Government for a concordat. Bishop Eduard continued these
talks, and Estonia named its representative to the Holy See (1933),
which, in turn, named a nuncio for Latvia and Estonia (1935).14 The talks
about a concordat went on till 1939.
In the late 1930’s so many Polish workers came to Estonia that they
outnumbered the Catholics living here. The bulk of them were miners,
concentrated in the northeastern Estonian mining area. In 1938 two
chaplains were sent from Poland for them. One of them remained in Estonia until 1945.
The First Soviet Occupation, 1940–1941

In September, 1939, an agreement (known as the Molotov-Ribbentrop
Pact) divided Eastern Europe into two spheres of interest. The Baltic
States happened to be in the Soviet “sphere.” One of the first effects of
the pact (which was not published at that time) was the forced repatriation of Baltic Germans. Among them were a number of Catholics; even
some priests and religious (brothers and sisters) had German nationality. They all had to leave for Germany, and Bishop Eduard had to witness
the first step toward the destruction of his life’s work. This was but the
beginning; in 1940 the Soviet authorities confiscated all church property (including the printing press) and began to apply more and more
severe restrictions to religious activities. The last issue of the Catholic
monthly appeared in July, 1940.
Bishop Eduard was urged by many to leave the country with the
Baltic Germans, but he chose to stay with his flock, although knowing
what would most probably happen to him. On June 27, 1941, he was arrested, accused of spying, and deported to Russia, where he was condemned to death on November 21, in the Kirov Prison. Formally, he was
accused of counter-revolutionary activity. He was not executed, be14
Otto Strandman was accredited at the Holy See on September 26, 1933. On October
18, 1933, Antonino Arata became the chargé d’affaires of the Vatican in Estonia. On July
12, 1935, he advanced to Papal nuncio for Latvia and Estonia. After the Soviet occupation
of Estonia, he was expelled on August 26, 1940.

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287

cause he died there on February 22, 1942. His burial place is not
known.15
Without an Administrator:
Foreign Occupations, 1941–1991

The deportation of Bishop Eduard left Estonia with five Catholic
priests, and the events of World War II had further immediate effects on
church life. After the first Soviet occupation (June, 1940–August, 1941),
Estonia was occupied by the Germans (August,1941–September,1944),
then a second Soviet occupation followed (September, 1944–August,
1991). From 1940 to 1991, thus for half a century, we cannot speak of a
normal life of Christian churches in Estonia. Most of this period must
be called the open persecution of the churches.
The German Occupation, 1941–1944

During this period, Father Henri Werling acted as temporary Administrator of Estonia. The attitude of the German authorities toward
churches was unmistakably negative, but it was moderated by political
calculations. They had no haste in returning church property confiscated by the Soviets, nor did they hesitate to interfere in church life, but
there was no actual persecution comparable with the preceding period
of Soviet occupation. Surely they would not tolerate any kind of communication between the clergy and the Holy See. That is why they imprisoned (June 23, 1942) Father Bourgeois, who had tried to inform
Nuncio Antonino Arata (then residing in Rome) about the situation of
the Church. Fortunately, on May 10, 1942, the vicar Bishop of Riga, sent
to visit the Estonian parishes, had ordained a new priest. It was Alexander Dordett, who had recently completed his studies and was able to
take over the Parish of Tartu (as well as the pastoral care of all Southern
Estonia) after Father Bourgeois was imprisoned. It is a telling fact that
the Visitor, who found four priests in service, was not even aware of the
presence of a fifth one, gone underground during the first Soviet occupation (he died in 1945). In the beginning of the German occupation,
numerous Catholics serving in the German Army also caused an unexpected increase of liturgical life, as many special Masses were celebrated both in Tartu and in Tallinn for the soldiers by their fellow
15
For more details, see Lambert Klinke, Erzbischof Eduard Profittlich und die katholische Kirche in Estland 1930–1942 (Ulm, 2000).

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priests in the Army. But this did not last long: after three years the German Army was forced to withdraw from Estonia.
On March 6, 1944, a massive Soviet air attack destroyed the city of
Narva, including the Catholic parish church. This meant the end of
Catholic activities in that town for almost fifty years, as even those faithful who had managed to flee were not allowed by the Soviets to return.
Among the survivors was the pastor of the Narva parish, Capuchin Father Tadeus Kraus.

The Second Soviet Occupation, 1944–1991

By September the Red Army reoccupied the Estonian mainland and
the atheist Soviet laws were this time reintroduced immediately. The authorities were a bit perplexed in the case of Father Bourgeois, whom
they freed from the German prison, but they did not allow him to work
as a priest. According to the Soviet view, two priests (meaning Father
Werling in Tallinn and Father Kraus in Tartu) were more than enough
for all the Catholics in Estonia. So Father Bourgeois left Estonia for
Moscow in May, 1945, where he first acted as chaplain of the church at
the French Embassy, but as he applied for a position at the Catholic
parish of Leningrad, he was expelled from the USSR (March, 1946).
Father Werling, the pastor of the parish in the capital, who after the
deportation of his bishop had acted as his successor ad interim, was
not allowed to continue his work either; on August 15, 1945, he was arrested and deported. It was only in March, 1946, that the Archbishop of
Riga could send a priest to replace him. Unfortunately, the Soviets did
not like Werling’s successor either, and he had to leave after only fourteen months of service. Father Janis Grishans, sent from Riga in his
stead,had more luck;he took care of the parish from 1947 to 1952,leaving the service then for health reasons. He was replaced in 1952 by another priest from Riga, Mikelis Krumpans, who worked as pastor of the
Tallinn parish until his death in 1987. He was compelled to live in a tiny
room behind the organ of the parish church.
The situation was only a little bit better in Tartu, where Father Kraus
served the parish from 1944 until his retirement in 1964 (he had come
to Estonia in 1931), followed by another Capuchin Father (Janis
Pavlovskis, a Latvian), who was able to stay until he was sent to Kazakhstan by his superiors in 1977. From now on, Father Krumpans had to
take care of this parish too, being the only Catholic priest residing in
the country. To be sure, Father Werling had returned from exile as early

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289

as in 1954, but his health was badly damaged (he died in 1972, on February 22—the same day as Bishop Profittlich).
For ten years (1977–1987) Father Krumpans remained the only Catholic priest in Estonia, but then things changed. A new period was prepared by growing interest in the Catholic Church among young
Estonians, many of whom visited Lithuania to have a firsthand experience of Catholic spirituality. There was a great interest in Gregorian
chant as well. So it happened that between 1975 and 1990 some 200
adult Estonians joined the Church, and at the beginning of the Gorbachev era,which offered new possibilities for the churches,two young
Estonians were ordained priests: Rein Õunapuu (1987) and Väino Niitvägi (1989).16 The first was able to take over the parish of Tallinn and to
take advantage of the new possibilities. So the monthly Kiriku Elu,
closed since 1940, reappeared in 1989, followed by a little missal in Estonian (1990). Visits of Catholics from abroad were a most welcome
moral help. Catholics of Finland, Germany, and elsewhere promptly
contributed material help, which was badly needed. In 1989 the Estonian Council of Churches was created, the Catholics being among the
founding churches. Among other things, this status granted them regular access to religious radio transmissions. In December of the same
year, Paul Verschuren, Bishop of Helsinki (Finland), solemnly confirmed
one hundred persons in Tartu and Tallinn. In 1991 a Ukrainian parish of
Byzantine rite was founded.
Fortunately, Father Õunapuu was able and willing to celebrate and to
preach not only in Estonian but also in Polish, Latvian, and Russian. For
the first time the Estonians now had a priest of their own tongue, but
there was evidently too much work for one man, beginning with the
most urgent repairs of church buildings, which had been neglected for
half a century. So the last years of the Soviet occupation had rather a
preparatory character for the years to follow.
The Third Apostolic Administrator:
Justo Mullor García, 1992–1997

Already before the restoration of Estonia’s independence in August,
1991,had brought back full freedom of religion,a Papal envoy (Francesco
Colasuonno) had visited Estonia and contacted the authorities about
the possibilities for a reorganization of the Catholics here. In Novem16
They were educated in the Riga Seminary. See Janis Cakuls, Latvijas Romas katolu
priesteri 1918–1995 (Riga, 1996), pp. 208 and 229.

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ber, 1991, Justo Mullor García was named Nuncio for the Baltic States
and, from April 15, 1992, also temporary (ad nutum S. Sedis) Apostolic
Administrator of Estonia. Bishop Justo was not given a long time for this
task; in 1997 he had to leave the Baltic States to become the new Nuncio in Mexico.
After an interruption of half a century (Eduard Profittlich was arrested in 1941) the regular hierarchical status of Estonia was now restored. Unfortunately,it was the status of 1924,where the Administrator
did not reside in Estonia,had to fulfil other duties,and was therefore not
able to visit his flock too often. He therefore first named a vicar (Father
Guy Barbier, a French priest residing in Helsinki, Finland).
Like his predecessors, the new Administrator began to look first for
more priests to take care of the small parishes to be restored, and also
for financial help. Unfortunately, as he soon lost the two Estonian
priests who were there at his arrival,17 and as the small community did
not dispose even of material resources, he had to look for help abroad.
The high point of this period was the papal visit of Estonia on September 10, 1993. This was appreciated as a great event not only by
Catholics but also by Estonians of all walks of life. Curiously, the international media did not even mention the Pope’s farewell words focusing on a new Europe, where the large nations would not try to
intimidate the small ones.18
In 1993 Estonia’s first Catholic school was opened in Tartu; in 1995
the new small church of Ahtme19 was consecrated; and in 1996 the
bishop named a new vicar general, residing in Estonia. Like the bishop
himself, he was an Opus Dei priest.20 As all of the new helpers were foreigners and newcomers, their first task was to learn the Estonian language and to find their own way in the new situation.
In 1997 there were seven Catholic parishes working in Estonia, with
ten priests, representing five religious families and as many languages.
Moreover, there were one religious lay brother and eighteen sisters, representing six communities.

17
In 1994 one of them asked for laicization;in 1995 the other one left for studies in Germany.
18
The original text was first published in His Holiness John Paul II in Estonia (Tallinn,
1993).
19
Ahtme, formerly an independent town, is now incorporated in the town of KohtlaJärve.
20
The first center of Opus Dei was opened in 1996 (in Tallinn).

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The Fourth Apostolic Administrator:
Erwin Josef Ender, 1997–2001

Like his predecessor, Bishop Ender was first named Nuncio for the
three Baltic States and then temporary Apostolic Administrator of Estonia, with residence in Vilnius. There was a significant difference,
though;now he had a vicar general,residing in Estonia, who had already
mastered the Estonian language. But there were still many foundational
problems, beginning with the endless repair works on church buildings, neglected during the long period of foreign occupations. So the
ruins of the church in Valga had been returned to the parish and had
even received a new roof, but because of a lack of funds the church
could not be reopened and the liturgy was confined to an improvised
chapel in the parish priest’s house. A number of personnel changes in
the clergy occurred, due to the availability of foreign priests.21
By January, 2001, regular Sunday liturgy was offered, besides in the
seven parishes (Tallinn, Tartu, Valga, Pärnu, Narva, Ahtme, and Sillamäe)
and Kiviõli, also in three other places (Kohtla-Järve, Rakvere, Sompa)
where there were no church-owned liturgical facilities. In Narva a
larger room in the parish house was used for the liturgy; in Pärnu there
was a small church-owned house chapel; in Kiviõli a new small church
was dedicated in August, 2000, and one in Sillamäe in July, 2001. The
Ukrainian parish had not gotten a resident priest yet, but since 1997
there were two Ukrainian Sisters taking care of the community. A new
convent of the Brigidine sisters (near the ruins of their once very beautiful monastery near Tallinn, destroyed in 1575) was opened on September 15, 2001.
Nine priests, two deacons, twenty religious sisters, and one lay
brother were serving in the Apostolic Administration of Estonia. Among
the clergy, besides Dominicans and Franciscans (both with an old tradition in Estonia), priests belonging to the Opus Dei, and priests of the
Neocatechumenate movement were working. The Sisters represented
six different communities. All priests were foreigners, but there were
also two seminarians.
On the organizational level there were no significant developments
in this period. The most conspicuous organization was Caritas, operating mainly in Tallinn,Narva,and Tartu. The Catholic school continued to
function in Tartu, where there also existed a Catholic kindergarten.
21
The presence of regular clerics depends on the needs of their Orders in other countries.

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MISCELLANY

Among lay initiatives, there was a small Catholic publishing house, operating since 1996. On May 19, 2001,Archbishop Ender was transferred
to Prague. On November 15, 2001, Archbishop Peter Stephan Zurbriggen, previously an apostolic nuncio, was appointed Apostolic Administrator of Estonia.
No official figures exist for religious statistics in Estonia today. The
number of Catholics is estimated to be 1,000–6,000, the first figure indicating the churchgoers.22 After the period of 1970–1990, which
brought a couple of hundred of new church members, the situation
seems now to be a stable one. The Estonians are a conspicuous group
(they even number a deacon, two seminarians, and three Brigidine sisters), but services are regularly held in Polish, Ukrainian, Russian, and
Lithuanian as well. As almost all Christian communities in Estonia today,
the Catholics too, still depend essentially on foreign help, both for
clergy and for funds. Most of her members being of foreign origin, they
are commonly regarded as a church of foreigners.

Outlook

Estonia is a relatively young nation-state, narrowly escaped from the
recent attempt of genocide, now struggling for survival and a place
among other nations. With her, the Christians of Estonia can look
back—after some fifty years of severe repressive measures—to the first
ten years of life in freedom. Among other churches of the country, the
Catholics belong to the small ones, but the ecumenical climate is favorable. At the beginning of a new millennium, this community is definitely a multinational body, as is fitting for the Catholic ideal of one
Church for all, but—as in all young national countries—the ethnic aspect remains very much in the focus of public attention. Here the
Catholics, being a clearly multinational group, have a good chance to
offer exemplary constructive solutions of ethnic problems.

22
In the USSR religious statistics were not published. For the period 1934–2001 only estimates of religious statistics are available. The estimates of the Annuario Pontificio oscillate between 3,000 (ed. 1993) and 5,500 (ed. 1995). The first census, which includes a
question on religious affiliation, was taken in March, 2000, and the results were announced in March, 2002, as follows: Among persons older than fifteen years (total
1,121,582), 13.6% declared themselves to be Lutherans, 12.8% to be Orthodox (104,698
Russians and 38,856 Estonians, 0.5% (6,009 persons) to be Baptists, and 0.5% (5,745 persons) to be Roman Catholics. All other Christian denominations had fewer than 4,000 adherents.

BOOK REVIEWS

General
Renewing Christianity: A History of Church Reform from Day One to Vatican
II. By Christopher M. Bellitto. (Mahwah, New Jersey: Paulist Press. 2001.
Pp. xii, 233. $18.95 paperback.)
Composing a one-volume history of the Western Church is a daunting task.
Although his intended audience is not mentioned, Bellitto’s work is aimed at
the general public, as well as undergraduates and seminarians. An intellectual
historian, he uses the idea of reform as his book’s organizing principle. Although writing from a Catholic perspective, he demonstrates in his introduction that the concept of reform is one shared by all Christians.
Some authors have an ideological axe to grind, which both serves to shape
and color their thoughts and also acts as a delimiting device to discard material
which does not conform to their ideological perspective. To his credit, Bellitto
refrains from doing this. Instead, he uses the idea of reform as a means to distill
about 2,000 years of history into about 200 pages. Throughout the book he differentiates between personal and structural reform, as well as between reform
in capite and in membris. He also distinguishes between reform as restorative
and renewal as augmentative and ameliorative (p. 10).
His synthesis of the High and Later Middle Ages is excellent, as might be expected of a medievalist; yet one of his best chapters is on Vatican Council II,
which he says breaks new ground with its emphasis on renewal, not just reform. His impartial thoughts on the council’s fallout, namely, about polarization,
about the speed of implementation, and about the links between the Councils
of Trent and Vatican II, invite the reader to further reading and reflection.
Quoting primary sources mostly from secondary works, Bellitto places them
judiciously in the text. His footnotes and bibliographic essay are quite helpful,
although his brief index is not.
The author’s thematic concentration on reform and his breezy dismissal of
significant events limits the book’s usefulness as a general work on church history. He dispatches the entire Patristic period in ten pages, saying that it was
about personal not institutional reform (p. 23). He summarizes well the Carolingian Renaissance,but then concludes that it was more about formation than
reformation (p. 43). He states that “the idea of institutional, comprehensive reform does not begin until after the year 1000” (p. 23). For him, the first impor-

313

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tant incidence is Gregorian Reform (p. 47). Surprisingly, the greatest medieval
reform council, Lateran IV, is treated in only one paragraph (p. 61). The various
reformations of the sixteenth century are covered summarily, yet some
specifics which are detailed tend to becloud the general reader’s ability to see
the forest through the trees. Important political forces which shaped the sixteenth century are barely mentioned. Here and elsewhere, ideas float untethered from their social, political, and economic contexts. Left somewhat
breathless and disoriented after a rapid forced march from 1600 to 1960, the
reader is led gently into a well-shaped discussion of Vatican II.
The book’s subtitle is “A History of Reform from Day One to Vatican II.” Yet,
the work lacks comprehensiveness. Moreover, the author’s concept of reform is
too narrowly construed to embrace the breadth of scope demanded by such
general works.
MICHAEL J. MCNALLY
St. Charles Borromeo Seminary–Overbrook

Die Erforschung der Kirchengeschichte: Leben, Werk und Bedeutung von Hubert Jedin (1900–1980). Edited by Heribert Smolinsky. [Katholisches
Leben und Kirchenreform im Zeitalter der Glaubensspaltung, 61.] (Münster: Aschendorff Verlag. 2001. Pp. vii, 116. DM 34,–.)
Hubert Jedin was probably the most important historian of the Roman Catholic Church in the twentieth century. He established his reputation in 1937, as
a young man of thirty-seven,with his two-volume work on Girolamo Seripando,
the theologian, prior general of the Augustinian order, cardinal, and papal legate
to the last period of the Council of Trent. His four-volume history of that council, completed in 1975 and exemplary in its thoroughness and respect for the
sources, is and will remain for about as long as one can imagine the standard
work on the subject. The first two volumes, which appeared in 1949 and 1957,
shattered the stereotype of a council going about business as usual and subservient to the will of the reigning pope. The ten-volume Handbook of Church
History that he edited remains the most thorough such survey available in English, and it has served teachers well as they scramble to put together materials
for a class that begins in a half-hour. These works are only the tip of the iceberg
in a career where the quality of the scholarship is as impressive as the quantity.
Although his formal teaching career was short, he directly and indirectly influenced several generations of students in Germany and Italy. He was a peritus at
Vatican Council II. After his retirement in 1965 he spent nine months at the Institute for Research in the Humanities, University of Wisconsin. As Joachim
Köhler in the present volume says of him, with perhaps slight exaggeration,
Jedin was one of the great figures of the Catholicism of the twentieth century
(p. 70).

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315

In 1980, the year he died, he was honored with a volume of the Annali dell’Istituto storico italo-germanico in Trento that reviewed his career and
achievement. The current volume is a collection of papers read at a conference
in Bensberg in 2000 commemorating the hundredth anniversary of Jedin’s
birth. Although there is considerable overlap between the two volumes, the authors are, with one exception, different, and those in the current volume obviously feel freer to criticize Jedin than did their colleagues a generation earlier.
The multiple authorship in both volumes has the advantage of providing a variety of perspectives on Jedin. It also means that in neither volume is there a single piece that pulls the materials together and offers a comprehensive critique.
We need to be grateful, nonetheless, for what we are served. In the present
volume the first contribution by Raymond Kottje is the most detailed study
available on Jedin as a young man up until his escape in 1939 to Italy from Nazi
Germany. This account through some new details puts flesh on information
about Jedin already well known, and it make slightly less mysterious the emotional tensions Jedin suffered especially just after his ordination to the priesthood that almost led to a breakdown. The third contribution, by Kohler, deals
with the impact that Jedin’s homeland, Silesia, had on him, with his anguish
over the fate it suffered at the end of the war, and with his dismay at the Vatican’s failure to speak out against it. These are the two most biographical contributions, both somewhat dependent on Jedin’s own Lebensbericht.
Giuseppe Alberigo describes and assesses Jedin as an historian. He shows
how Jedin tried to move German historiography of the Reformation era beyond
the German framework that held captive both Catholic and Protestant historians, and how he especially wanted to move Catholic historians beyond apologetics. As much as Alberigo admires Jedin, he correctly calls attention to his
failure to appreciate social history and even religious history (as distinguished
from ecclesiastical history). He reports rather than analyzes Jedin’s insistence
that church history is a theological discipline ultimately based on revelation.
A propos of that insistence, Klaus Ganzer in the last piece in the book calls
attention to the closed theological training Jedin had as a young man, which he
never quite moved beyond. Ganzer also feels that Jedin was too soft in his general evaluation of Trent. He makes one of the most perceptive observations of
this whole collection when he notes how each of the volumes of the Trent
somehow reflects what the author was himself experiencing at the time. Jedin
wrote the fourth and final volume just at the time he was experiencing deep
disappointment, even anger, over the way Vatican Council II was being interpreted and invoked. Jedin and Vatican II is the subject of Norbert Trippen’s contribution, which chronicles the decline of Jedin’s support for the council until
in the fourth session he became skeptical of what the council would accomplish and, by the end of the session, pessimistic.
Jedin’s work will stand the test of time. It provides the firm institutional
framework on which much contemporary scholarship builds and will have

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BOOK REVIEWS

to build in the future. Nonetheless, interest in what Jedin accomplished is at
present at low ebb—the last two volumes of Trent have not been translated
into English; only the first volume has been translated into French. Even in historians’ households he was never a household name in North America. The
present volume does not add substantially to what was already well known
about him, and it does not set him into a broader historiographical context. It
will not find, I fear, a very large readership.
JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J.
Weston Jesuit School of Theology

Das katholische Domkapitel zu Hamburg von den Anfängen bis zur Reformation und seine Wiedererrichtung 1996: Eine kanonistische Untersuchung. By Jürgen Wätjer. [Adnotationes in Ius Canonicum, Band 19.]
(Bern: Peter Lang: Europäischer Verlag der Wissenschaften. 2001. Pp. 283.
$45.95 paperback.)
The reunification of Germany prompted Pope John Paul II to establish on
January 7, 1995, an archiepiscopal see in Hamburg to serve a north German diocese that straddled the former border between the two German states. The
cathedral chapter was constituted the following year, on February 4. In this
nearly unrevised dissertation that was submitted to the Catholic Theological
Faculty at the University of Bochum, Jürgen Wätjer asks whether there is any
legal continuity between the medieval cathedral chapter, which survived until
1809 as a Lutheran foundation, and its modern successor, and concludes, unsurprisingly, that there is none. Wätjer discusses five main topics from a legal
rather than a historical perspective: the internal structure of the medieval chapter; its position within the archdiocese of Hamburg-Bremen; the chapter’s relations with other ecclesiastical and secular lords; the chapter’s transformation
into a Lutheran foundation; and the new institution.
The tumultuous history of the Hamburg church in the early centuries of its
existence led to the chapter’s anomalous position as the second cathedral chapter in the archdiocese. St. Ansgar, who became the archbishop of Hamburg in
831, established a Benedictine monastery there; but a Viking attack forced him
to flee and to combine in 847 the bishoprics of Hamburg and Bremen. The
monastery survived until 983 when it was destroyed in a Slavic attack. Archbishop Unwan (1013–1029) re-established the chapter, this time with canons;
but the Abodrites destroyed it in 1072. Archbishop Adalbero (1123–1148) reendowed the chapter in 1140 and restored its former metropolitan rights, but it
was unable to assert them against its Bremen counterpart. In 1223 Hamburg
was forced to acknowledge Bremen’s archiepiscopal dignity, but the provost,
dean, and scholastic were granted the right to participate in the election of the
archbishop. The provost served thereafter as the highest ecclesiastical official

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317

north of the Elbe, and the chapter remained the most prestigious foundation in
the city. Although its members were drawn largely from burgher families, there
were repeated conflicts in the later Middle Ages with the Rat over the canons’
immunity, exemption from urban exactions, and supervision of the city’s
schools. The canons were remarkably oblivious to the magnitude of the religious changes in the 1520’s, as can be seen by their attempts to defend their fiscal privileges at the imperial court in Speyer from attacks by the kings of
Denmark, the peasants of Dithmarschen, and the Rat. The last public Mass was
said in the cathedral in 1529, and Protestant worship was introduced in 1532.
The Lutheran chapter retained its immunity but played no significant role in the
political or religious life of Hamburg.
Wätjer has pieced together the rather fragmentary, largely late-medieval evidence about the chapter, but the dissertation style makes for somewhat disjointed reading. Nevertheless, we should be grateful that he has assembled the
available information about this ecclesiastical oddity in a single place.
JOHN B. FREED
Illinois State University

Militia Sancti Sepulcri: Idea e istituzioni. Atti del Colloquio Internazionale
tenuto presso la Pontificia Università del Laterano, 10–12 aprile 1996.
Edited by Kaspar Elm and Cosimo Damiano Fonseca. [Hierosolimitana:
Acta et Monumenta.] (Vatican City: Grand Magisterium of the Equestrian
Order of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem. 1998. Pp. 521. Lire 60,000 paperback.)
This volume is derived from papers given at a conference on the Knights of
the Holy Sepulchre held at the Pontifical Lateran University in 1996. In addition
to introductory and concluding remarks, the volume contains seventeen essays,
six communications, and three brief notes. Thirteen of the chapters are written
in Italian, seven in German, three in French, and three in English. Brief abstracts
in English or Italian are given at the beginning of each chapter. The subjects of
the chapters are varied, but all are related in some way to the Roman Catholic
presence in Jerusalem. Chronologically,the chapters range from the eleventh to
twentieth centuries. Although the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre were given
papal sanction only in 1868, they were traditionally held to be direct descendants of the military orders established in the Holy Land during the Crusades.
This myth is dispelled in several of the chapters. Nevertheless, the connection
between the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre and the centuries-long Catholic
presence in the Holy Land allows for the examination of a variety of topics, including pilgrimage, the Crusades, Byzantium, Islam, chivalry, knighthood, art, architecture, theology, and medieval and modern religious institutions such as
confraternities and the mendicant orders. As a result of the number of lan-

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BOOK REVIEWS

guages, chapters, and topics, this volume will likely attract a wide audience. It is
also likely that individual readers will find only a few chapters of scholarly value
and interest, according to one’s own area and period of research.
PAUL SIDELKO
University of Louisville

Ancient and Medieval
Exaltation of the Cross: Toward the Origins of the Feast of the Cross and the
Meaning of the Cross in Early Medieval Liturgy. By Louis van Tongeren.
= 45.00.)
[Liturgia Condenda, 11.] (Leuven: Peeters. 2000. Pp. x, 342. C
The Dutch school of liturgical studies is quickly becoming one of the most
significant sources of contemporary scholarship in the field of worship. It participates in the series,“Liturgia Condenda” (Liturgical Foundations), which has
recently produced a number of studies on the liturgical year (Gerlach on the
Ante-Nicene Pascha, Roll on the origins of Christmas) as well as a major new
volume on feasts and festivity. Louis van Tongeren’s study is an excellent addition to this project and to the field of heortology (the study of feasts) in general.
The author is part of the faculty of theology and liturgical institute at the Catholic University of the Brabant in Tilburg, the Netherlands.
After surveying the Eastern origins of the September 14 Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, situating it in the dedication rites of the Holy Sepulchre in
fourth-century Jerusalem, van Tongeren analyzes the Roman and Frankish texts
for the feast in the medieval West. In order to introduce the specific texts he
provides a fine, readable, and economic introduction to the transmission of the
various sacramentaries and lectionaries from Rome to the North in the course
of the seventh and eighth centuries. In addition to Roman and Frankish Mass
texts,Van Tongeren also deals with the feast of the Holy Cross in the Divine Office as well as the Cross hymns (especially of Venantius Fortunatus) and indigenous Gallican and Spanish material with regard to the May 3 Feast of the
Finding of the Cross culled from collections of blessings.
In the course of the work, van Tongeren argues that the sober and classical
theological motifs that characterized the Roman texts for the Exaltation of the
Cross were transformed by the editors of the books in Frankish territory into a
feast whose theology is far more forcefully paschal in character and which gives
a much more active role to Christ himself. The reason for the latter is the antiArian and anti-adoptionist movements in early medieval Gaul and Spain. And so
the development of this feast and its transmission north of the Alps is an example of what nowadays would be called “inculturation.”
In addition, van Tongeren judges that the texts which have come down
through both the Roman and the Frankish sacramentaries and lectionaries have

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much more in common than the later medieval Cross piety of Bernard of Clarvaux and Francis of Assisi, who both focused on the suffering of the human
Christ.
The book was originally written as a dissertation and shows many of the
marks of a painstaking analysis that might have been conceived to reap more
fruit in terms of theological differences between Roman and Frankish texts.
That is to say, at times the analysis of particular texts seems a bit forced and repetitious. Nonetheless the author is a reliable guide through the thickets of early
medieval liturgical developments and highlights a number of fascinating concepts like “recirculation” which takes the Old Testament motif of death
through the wood of the tree in Eden and transforms it through the image of
the tree of life, the Cross.
JOHN F. BALDOVIN. S.J.
Weston Jesuit School of Theology
Cambridge, Massachusetts

Medieval Hagiography: An Anthology. Edited by Thomas Head. (New York:
Garland Publishing, Inc. 2000. Pp. xlix, 834. $105.00.)
Part of the wide-spread attempt to separate the present of the Church from
its past following on Vatican Council II was deprecation of the cult of the
saints. There must be some irony in the fact that at the moment when Roman
Catholic children were less and less informed of the lives of the saints,the study
of hagiography became increasingly popular in academic venues. My own state
university has a course, taught by a colleague, in “Medieval Saints and Holy People in Western Europe,” for which the book under review is, except for its price
(but with this rich feast of a book, one might need no others, and in any case
there is a paperback version at a third the cost), ideally suited.
In this massive volume thirty-two well-chosen scholars present thirty-six hagiographical texts or groups of texts from the fourth through fifteenth centuries. With few exceptions, the translations are either of texts which have
never been translated into English, or of texts of which translations are no
longer easily available. This leaves some holes in the anthology: St. Martin of
Tours’ influence is clear in the selections included, but we are not given his life.
The anthology is meant to be supplemented by such materials. Beginning with
Head’s useful introduction, the book charts the development of hagiography
and gives a guide to English translations of its primary sources, including
what is available on the internet. Head’s “Guide to Further Reading” attends to
foreign-language scholarship, as in limited fashion do some of the authors.
Each of the thirty-six chapters has three parts, viz., an introduction, a guide to
sources and further reading, and an annotated translation of either a single text
or a group of thematically related texts. Perhaps the most important thing to be
said about David Brakke’s opening translation of Athanasius’ Life of St. Antony

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is that it is the first to be done in English from G. J. M. Bartelink’s 1994 edition.
Brakke gives us a very clear-eyed view of Athanasius, whom Brakke among
other things calls a liar. The Life’s descriptions of Antony’s interaction with animals may now be read in the light of Jacques Voisenet’s wonderful Bêtes et
Hommes dans le Monde Médiéval. Le Bestiaire des Clercs du Ve au XIIe siècle,
Preface by J. Le Goff (Turnhout, 2000). Philippe Buc’s chapter on Victricius of
Rouen’s In Praise of the Saints is an excellent introduction to the theology of
relics. In chapter three Claudia Rapp gives us a purported Greek bishop’s life
from Egypt, Mark the Deacon’s Life of St. Porphyry of Gaza. If we cannot be
sure that there ever was a Porphyry, the situation is quite different with the subjects of E. Gordon Whatley’s “Constantine the Great, the Empress Helena, and
the Relics of the Holy Cross,” a selection of documents which includes a tenthcentury Spanish Legendary account of the discovery of the True Cross.
The fifth chapter, by Dorothy Africa, passes to an eighth-century Irish abbess,
Samthann,through whose life we view new forms of monasticism developed in
Ireland. This life is striking both for its dramatic imagination and its psychological astuteness. Africa gives a nice introduction to Irish saints’ lives, with their
similar patterning to epic and romance heroes and their use of the motifs of
popular tales, and makes useful comment on the differences in the Lives between men’s and women’s religious experience. In dialogue with the findings
of Julia Smith, Africa notes that the Life of Samthann has the unisexual view of
sanctity typical of sixth-century lives, rather than the sharply differentiated
view of female sanctity typical of late-ninth-century Carolingian lives.
Chapter six, by Ian Wood, drops back a century to take up Jonas of Bobbio’s
influential Life of St. Columbanus. Its concluding paragraph is evidence of contemporary debate over the reality and status of the many miracles found in the
Lives. Then in chapter seven Jo Ann McNamara gives us “Dado of Rouen, Life of
St. Eligius of Noyon.” Dado was a member of the new nobility in a seventhcentury Frankish society in which bishops were increasingly chosen from the
counselors of the king. He portrays Eligius’ transformation as a layman from elegantly dressed courtier to one of the poor of Christ, teaching gentleness and
working for peace. Undigested and inconsistent as some of his presentation is,
Dado appreciates some of the more demanding of the Christian virtues and underlines other “counter-cultural” dimensions of Eligius’ vigorously lived life (I
am unhappy with McNamara’s comment that Eligius’ sanctity is formulaic).
Eligius was, to be sure, not above putting pressure on the holy departed for favors. Sometimes in reading these lives one gasps at the level of human misery
evident: Eligius spends much time and money ransoming captives and slaves.
In chapter eight, Felice Lifshitz gives a useful account of the history of the
pseudo-Hieronymian martyrology as she takes up “Bede, Martyrology,” and
makes clear Bede’s role as innovator in the use of historical martyrologies. She
stresses the close connection between the Rome-centered story of the Ecclesiastical History and the narrative of Bede’s martyrology. Once again, Bede’s in-

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fluence was phenomenal. By 820 canon law required the reading each day of
the martyr’s stories. Chapter nine is Barrett Wendell’s translation of Einhard’s
Translation of the Relics of Sts. Marcellinus and Peter, revised and edited by
David Appleby, who gives a particularly useful and well-informed introduction.
Einhard shows us the traffic in relics at its worst and best. Laced among his various tales of theft and deceit are stories of people who in the presence of relics
compose their differences and forgive others’ debts to and sins against themselves, putting aside feud for truce and friendship.
Chapter ten is The Martyrdom of St. Pelagius by the tenth-century priest of
Córdoba, Raguel, translated by Jeffrey A. Bowman. Mark Jordan, The Invention
of Sodomy in Christian Theology (Chicago, 1997), has given us a generally convincing reading of this text, and Bowman’s introduction to it is well-informed,
though at one important point a study I am preparing on the subject leads me
to follow Jordan’s translation, rather than Bowman’s. The Bollandist text has
Pelagius ask Abd al-Rahman,“Numquid me similem tuis effeminatis existimas?”
which Jordan, 13 n. 11, translates as “Do you think me like one of your effeminates?” The more recent 1991 edition by Celso Rodríguez Fernández, quoted
also in Jordan 13 n. 11, has,“Numquid me similem tuis effeminatum existimas?”
which Jordan, 13, renders,“Do you think me like one of yours, an effeminate?”
but which Bowman (p. 233) translates as “Do you think that I am effeminate
like yourselves?” leaving the distinct possibility,confirmed by Bowman’s further
words on page 229, that Ab al-Rahman III is among those being accused of effeminacy. While this is possible, it goes against long-standing stereotypes, admittedly ambiguous in a court situation in which a sexually aggressive male
surrounded by luxury is dominating other males, “treating them like women.”
The sense of the passage seems to me better caught by Jordan than by Bowman.
Chapter eleven gives a new edition by Head of Mary Bernadine Bregman’s
translation of Hrotsvit of Gandersheim’s The Establishment of the Monastery
of Gandersheim. Hrotsvit is the only female author in this volume, and this and
the following selection, in which David A. Warner translates Odilo of Cluny’s
Epitaph of the August Lady, Adelheid, give an interesting entrance to many
themes studied by Patrick Corbet in his important Saints Ottoniens, including
marital, family, and monastic love and affection; tales of virginity triumphant;
and the influential place in society of Ottonian highborn women. A ground bass
found in these and many other selections is the symbiotic relationship between
especially monasteries—and thus hagiographers—and wealthy and powerful
patrons. Hrotsvit is very direct: “. . . Queen Liutgard, . . . who had been the
cause of countless grants to us, departed (for shame!) from this world to our
great fiscal detriment” (p. 250).
Chapter thirteen, also edited and translated by Head, consists of four brief selections on “The Cult of Relics in the Eleventh Century,” taken from a new outpouring of clerical writing articulating the connections between the rebuilding

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of churches, the discovery of relics, and pilgrimage to relic shrines. Head nicely
places these in historical context. Some of these materials give very specific information on lay reaction to relics, on awareness of fraud in the trade in relics,
and on the origin of the Peace of God movement,on which,of course,Head has
written elsewhere. The first selection gives our oldest information on the use of
the judicial ordeal of fire to authenticate relics, and an early mention of purgatory. As chapter fourteen Henrietta Leyser gives Peter Damian’s Life of St. Romuald of Ravenna a lively translation. She says of Damian (p. 296),“the plan is
to monasticize the world—to turn it all, indeed—and they are Damian’s words
as he describes the activities of Romuald—‘into a hermitage.’” More fully,
Damian’s words are (p. 308),“Anyone might have thought that his [Romuald’s]
plan was to turn the world into a hermitage and for everyone to become
monks,” and I doubt very much in terms either of his views in 1042 or of the
whole corpus of Damian’s writings that his goal was to turn the world into a
hermitage.
One could teach an entire course on medieval marriage and family from the
selections in this book, and central would be the wonderful translation of the
Old French Life of St. Alexis by Nancy Vine Durling in chapter fifteen. In her
introduction Durling also gives a helpful delineation of the “hagiographic paradigm,” the biographical moments of the account of a saintly life. In the following chapter Geoffrey Koziol, after an incisive introduction, gives an enjoyable
translation of The Miracles of St. Ursmer on His Journey through Flanders, a
delatio or tour with relics, in this case to the end of a monastery obtaining confirmation of its possessions. Again we obtain miscellaneous information about
the spiritual life of the laity such as that some knew the Latin office of lauds. In
chapter seventeen Bruce L. Venarde translates Drogo of Sint-Winoksbergen’s
Life of St. Godelieve. This is an unusual document in many ways, written by a
priest very sympathetic to Godelieve and frank about her unhappy situation in
an arranged marriage.
In chapter eighteen Nora Berend translates Hartvic’s Life of King Stephen of
Hungary. Here particularly we see the political uses made of hagiography, in
this case to advance or resist the claims of Gregory VII. We also find in the life
a fine example of hagiography as a vehicle by which to teach Christian charity.
Head again is the translator of chapter nineteen,“Guibert of Nogent, On Saints
and Their Relics.” Though apparently hardly known in the Middle Ages, this
work has become well-known because of its reflection on and criticism of the
cult of the saints. Head sets the context of the work expertly and can be very
amusing:“Guibert wrote in an extremely convoluted style marked by sentences
greatly lengthened through periodic construction, which are further complicated by dependent clauses—and who would not also mention his regular use
of rhetorical questions?—as well as by subtle (not to mention parenthetical) allusions” (p. 402).
The introduction to chapter twenty,“A Tale of Doomsday Colum Cille Should
Have Left Untold,” translated by Paul Grosjean and edited by Dorothy Africa, is

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longer than the selection itself, and very helpful in understanding a difficult
text. Chapter twenty-one,“Life of the Dear Friends Amicus and Amelius,” translated by Mathew Kuefler, is a work of conflated genres telling a tale of friendship reworked for hagiography. Kuefler gives us the first English translation of
the Latin hagiographical version of this tale. Especially its Old French form has
been recently much discussed in terms of “homosociality” and related constructions: to that discussion and Kuefler’s bibliography I would add C. Stephen
Jaeger’s Ennobling Love, specifically pp. 73–74. Chapter twenty-two is composed of a translation by Jennifer Paxton of hagiographical extracts from the
Book of Ely. This is not a conventional hagiographical work, but the composite
history of a monastery. Some of the miracles told illustrate particularly well the
function of saints as (sometimes vengeful) protectors of the Church against its
enemies.
We turn in chapter twenty-three, “The Tract on the Conversion of Pons of
Léras and the True Account of the Beginning of the Monastery at Silvanès,”
translated by Beverly Mayne Kienzle, to a saint who does not wield unusual
powers, a Cistercian lay brother who is a model for others through his everyday
holiness, hard work, and service. Pons is a sparkling witness to the power of
Christianity to take a formerly great sinner and change him into a man of great
solicitude toward the poor, who also brings knights to conversion and peace to
his part of the Midi-Pyrénées. Chapter twenty-four,“Thomas of Monmouth, Life
and Passion of St. William of Norwich,” gives a text originally translated by Augustus Jesopp and Montague Rhodes James, and now edited by John M. McCulloh. The introduction offers a number of perspectives on the High Middle
Ages as (p. 215) “a period of growing religious intolerance” derived from R. I.
Moore’s The Formation of a Persecuting Society which have been contested,
properly in my opinion, by such scholars as John Christian Laursen, Cary J. Nederman, and Robert Chazan. The Life, another document unread in the Middle
Ages and only studied since the 1890’s, is witness to the way in which a popular cult could advance in the face of ecclesiastical, even papal, opposition to its
main premise, that Jews practice ritual murder.
Other religions than Christianity have some form of hagiography, and chapter twenty-five, “The Jewish Martyrs of Blois,” edited and translated by Susan
Einbinder,departs from the Christian format of this book to include Jewish martyrologies,memorials of Jews killed by Christians. In her introduction Einbinder
comments on the origins of Jewish veneration of martyrdom and its linkage to
Christian conventions, and gives a very useful orientation to the types of Hebrew martyrology which follow. Similarly, in chapter twenty-six, “Liturgical
Offices for the Cult of St. Thomas Becket,” Sherry Reames gives us a good introduction to an interesting liturgical selection. Chapter twenty-seven moves to
the “Saga of Bishop Jón of Hólar,” translated by Margaret Cormack, again with a
knowledgeable introduction. The married clergy noticed in a number of the
lives about twelfth-century England and in the chapter on St. Vincent Ferrer
mentioned below are found also in this saga, which gives us a window on negotiations over such customs with Rome, more generally on the day-to-day for-

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mation of Christian habits. We find such practices as a man and woman reciting
back and forth “disgusting” verses as a form of erotic excitement, and read of a
young “priestling” reading Ovid.
Chapter twenty-eight,“Gautier de Coincy, Miracles of the Virgin Mary,” translated by Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski, introduces us to a genre very popular in
the high and late Middle Ages. Some of the stories presented are rather charming, some rather horrific, but all are gauged to attract a reader’s or listener’s attention. Chapter twenty-nine is composed of six brief texts on “The Cult of
Mary Magdalen in Late Medieval France,” edited, translated, and shrewdly introduced by Raymond Clemens. In chapter thirty Wendy R. Larson edits and translates “Three Thirteenth-Century Lives of St. Margaret of Antioch,” and gives a
good account of why this legend was long suspect before being suppressed by
the Holy See in 1969. Chapter thirty-one, “The Middle-English Version of
Jacques de Vitry’s Life of St. Marie d’Oignies,” translated with a very good introduction by Sarah McNamer, gives us the first translation of the Middle-English
version of a text which is quite well known, especially because of Caroline
Bynum’s Holy Feast and Holy Fast.
Chapter thirty-two, “Peter of the Morrone (Pope Celestine V), Autobiography,” translated by George Ferzoco, is an unusual document about an unusual
man, with apparently a core of autobiography elaborated by someone else.
Chapter thirty-three,“The Life of St. David set down by an Anchorite at Llanddewibrefi,” translated and very helpfully introduced by Elissa R. Henken, gives
us the life of a sixth-century monk as told in service to defense of an independent Welsh church in the fourteenth century. Catherine of Alexandria was one
of the most popular of medieval saints, but not many will know the delightful
Old Czech version of her life translated and informatively introduced by Alfred
Thomas in chapter thirty-four. While based on Latin sources, in part this work is
quite original, and in one way or another transfers courtly themes to the relation between Catherine and Christ, while combating fourteenth-century heretical tendencies. Catherine knows her own mind. Arguing against those who
would have her marry the emperor, she says (p. 772),“You say that you are not
aware of a man as beautiful, as brilliant, as bright with wisdom, and as shining
with learning as I am. So why don’t you leave me in peace?” Of course, the only
bridegroom for her is Christ. Laura A. Smoller translates “The Canonization
Process for St. Vincent Ferrer” in chapter thirty-five, a mid-fifteenth-century
canonization inquest in Brittany. Nadia Margolis bats clean-up with a chapter on
“The Mission of Joan of Arc.” Margolis does a very good job of selecting various
types of documents and expertly introducing and chronologically rearranging
some of them to form a picture of Joan.
The book would be easier to use if it had an index. It is attractively presented,
though we need only go five sentences into Head’s introduction to find the first
of its grammatical errors and typos. These are relatively rare and not particularly
distracting. There is more that could be said both in praise of the volume, and

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in criticism of individual comments made in its introductions and notes. Overall, it is highly to be recommended.
GLENN W. OLSEN
University of Utah, Salt Lake City

Gregory of Tours: History and Society in the Sixth Century. By Martin Heinzelmann. Translated by Christopher Carroll. (New York: Cambridge University
Press. 2001. Pp. xii, 235. $59.95.)
This far-reaching study was originally published at Darmstadt in 1994 as Gregor von Tours (538–594) ,,Zehn Bücher Geschichte”. Historiographie und
Gesellschaftskonzept im 6. Jahrhundert. It appeared during the 1400th anniversary of Gregory’s death, when many learned conferences on the historian
took place, especially in France. Martin Heinzelmann, long-time editor of the
journal Francia, has published at least eleven articles on Gregory in addition to
this book. With Pascale Bourgain, he is preparing a new critical edition of the
Histories. He is uniquely qualified to shed light on Gregory.
Heinzelmann’s monograph, in addition to its main argument, makes many
convincing contributions. They include a resolute critique of earlier scholarship; a study of Gregory’s usage of the word ecclesia; a demonstration of the
value of the chapter headings for interpreting chapter contents; important discussions of Gregory’s language and use of typology; and an account of the manuscript tradition. He compiles a prosopography of Gregory’s extended family
and searchingly considers his life; and he takes advantage, virtually for the first
time, of two precious instruments for Gregory study, namely, the Montreal concordance to the Histories and Margarete Weidemann’s methodical dissection of
Gregory’s works in her Kulturgeschichte der Merowingerzeit (1982).
Heinzelmann’s goal is to discover a thematic, ecclesiological Gregory whose
“historiographical interests [focused] on the development of a socio-political
concept of society [that wished] to see the leadership of the Christian state entrusted to the joint government of bishops and king” (p. 1); this concept was
sustained by “the typological and eschatological ecclesia as the ideological
framework and background of history” (p. 189). Such abstractions are unusual
in writings about our bishop. The early nineteenth-century historian, Augustin
Thierry, said that Gregory’s work was “comme une gallerie mal arrangée de
tableaux et de figures en relief”—in other words, a succession of disconnected
fragments. Heinzelmann counteracts this still current conception and interprets Gregory’s history as a unified work, with a collective theme and the practical purpose of guiding Merovingian kings.
The case is strongly argued,with much evidence and deep conviction. Its certain applicability to parts of the Histories—book 1 and much more—means

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that it will have to be respectfully weighed even by those whom it repels.
Lately, Gregory has been prized for grasping particulars and portraying them
with an approximation of realism; his glory is that he offers a vivid panorama
of individual sinners and saints. To those who see Gregory in this way, Heinzelmann’s concentrated scenario for the Histories substitutes a theologian
enamored with abstractions for the more familiar narrator of particular
circumstances.
Heinzelmann has little interest in Gregory’s depictions of individual lives and
circumstances. He disregards large tracts of the Histories, including many with
obvious bearing on his argument. His Gregory trusts in the collectivity of bishops, whom kings should listen to. But what many readers find gripping in the
Histories is the gallery of deplorable bishops, lovingly portrayed—Urbicus of
Clermont, Droctegisel of Soissons, Badegisel of Le Mans, Egidius of Reims, Felix
of Nantes, Bertramn of Bordeaux, Cato and Cautinus of Clermont, Salonius of
Embrun, and Sagittarius of Gap; even the worthy Praetextatus of Rouen and
Theodore of Marseilles have conspicuous blemishes. The same goes for kings:
Gregory plies us with bad deeds by the “good” Guntram and good ones by the
“bad” Chilperic. Does the real Gregory exalt the collective episcopate and kingship or does he steep us in the ambivalence of real life? Because this question
is not faced, let alone resolved, Heinzelmann’s approach may seem one-sided.
His interpretation, well and solidly argued, will have an enduring place in
studies of Gregory’s Histories and will certainly polarize them. A good litmus
test for one’s inclinations occurs in Hist. bk. 8, ch. 30, and bk. 10, ch. 28, discussed by Heinzelmann on pp. 89 and 83–84. Whether one agrees with his understanding of these chapters or not quickly determines where one stands in
interpreting the Histories. Polarities aside,however,even those who do not subscribe to Heinzelmann’s main thesis will greatly profit from the many important
findings set out in his book.
WALTER GOFFART
Yale University

Byzantine Monastic Foundation Documents: A Complete Translation of the
Surviving Founders’ Typika and Testaments. Edited by John Thomas and
Angela Constantinides Hero with the assistance of Giles Constable. 5 vols.
[Dumbarton Oaks Studies, XXXV.] (Washington, D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks
Research Library and Collection. 2000. Pp. xlix, 439; xiii, 441–858; xiii,
859–1294; xiii, 1295–1678; xiii, 1679–2021.)
Byzantine Monasticism is one of the rather well documented segments of
Byzantine life. Hagiography provides abundant information concerning the
lifestyles of particular male and female monks from the early years of monasti-

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cism. Acts of monasteries and, to a lesser extent, Byzantine canon law, are other
sources that illuminate the more practical aspects of monastic life. Despite the
extensive research and literature on the subject, it is still difficult to form a clear
understanding of monastic life in the Byzantine world. Before the appearance
of the present work, it was not possible to write a definitive history of Byzantine monasticism.
The five-volume work under review represents a giant step toward addressing a number of the difficulties surrounding the understanding of Byzantine
monastic life. In the volumes edited by John Thomas and Angela Constatinides
Hero we have the final fruit of an ambitious project that was conceived some
twenty years ago at Dumbarton Oaks. The first four volumes contain the complete translation into English of the sixty-one surviving monastic foundation
documents together with extensive introductions and detailed annotation. The
project concludes with painstakingly detailed indexes that fill all of Volume V.
Each of these documents (most of which are better known as typika) was
written for a specific monastery and its dependencies. Many of the later extant
typika copied earlier ones. Despite that, a number of differences among them
are evident, differences that reflect both the individual character of each
monastery and the changes in Byzantine monasticism across the centuries.
Briefly said, a typikon usually contained the rules, by which the monastic community for which it was written was organized, the legal and economic status
of the monastery, and a number of binding statutes that prescribed the details
of the daily life of the monks and nuns. These typika were, on occasion, confirmed by the emperor, and this confirmation invested them with legal authority on which the protection of the monastic community and of its rights rested.
This brief description of the nature of the typika makes apparent their paramount importance not only for the life of the monks (in this respect one could
possibly compare them to the modern constitutions of the sovereign states)
but also for the study of the history of monasticism.
The earliest surviving document comes from seventh-century Egypt and is
the testament of Apa Abraham, while the latest one, tentatively dated to 1449, is
an Inventory of the Monastery of the Mother of God Eleousa in Stroumitza.
The eight centuries that these documents span occupy the most significant period of Byzantine monasticism, a period that witnessed—among others—the
appearance of Athonite Monasticism, the development of the Protectorate
(Ephoreia—some sort of protective patronage of the monasteries, known also
in the West as advocacy), the development of the Charistike (a controversial
public program that transferred private religious foundations to concessionaires unrelated to the founders, practically antagonizing the Ephoreia), and, finally,the monastic reforms of the eleventh and twelfth centuries that promoted
the inviolability of sacred property. All these developments were initiated or facilitated by influential individuals who left their indelible mark on monasticism,
not only with their acts,but also with their writings,among which typika figure

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prominently. Such individuals included the great ninth-century monastic leader
Theodore of Studios and the founder of the monastic communities of Mount
Athos, St. Athanasios, or even the later Michael Attaleiates.
The importance of these documents for the institutional history and development of Byzantine monasticism can hardly be emphasized enough.Yet, there
still is another aspect to them of equal if not greater significance, and this is the
contribution of the typika to understanding daily monastic life. It is in the details of the rules and of the provisions of these charters that we find such an
enormous wealth of information pertaining to daily monastic life. Although it is
difficult to establish to what extent these typika governed the life of the community (a general problem concomitant with the laxity of application of law in
medieval societies of Eastern Europe) the image one can glean from them provides nearly a complete picture. It is noteworthy, for example, that Theodora
Synadene,a niece of emperor Michael VIII Paleologos,found it necessary to prescribe in her typikon for the Nunnery of Bebaia Elpis that “no one at table will
be allowed to raise her eyes and look at her neighbor to see how she eats the
food before her, and what has been served to her” (Vol. 4, p. 1548). From this
rule we can judge how deeply the typika provisions enter into issues, not only
of behavior but also of attitudes. Undoubtedly, a virtuous life was the objective
and on this front most of the typika tried to cover as many bases as possible.
The preceding cursory remarks on the nature and contents of the typika
should give some idea as to the monumental significance of the whole work. It
is highly commendable indeed that Thomas, Constantinides Hero, and their associates, in four elegant volumes, translated, commented upon, and thoroughly
annotated all these works, many of which existed in inaccessible editions, usually only in the original Greek version. In addition, one must acknowledge the
exemplary index (Volume 5), which took much time to prepare and is a quasi
instrumentum studiorum in its own right: Apart from the extensive bibliography, it contains an extremely useful glossary that would help not only the average informed reader but also scholars in the field understand the complex
technical vocabulary of the typika (the terminology has been, wisely in my
opinion, simply transliterated into Latin and italicized in the text). It also contains an Index of People and Places and, finally, a General Index. The detailed
entries especially in the latter are a great help in navigating the lengthy documents, thus making the whole work, in spite of its length, one of the most userfriendly projects. Finally, I should not fail to mention the insistence of the
authors on pointing out—whenever it is appropriate—the Western counterparts of the Byzantine typika rules, institutions, developments, etc. In doing so
they have widened the scope of the whole project by making it easily useful to
all medievalists.
This is one of the most significant publications of the recent years in the field
of the medieval European religious, historical, and social studies. It is a must for
all academic and scholarly libraries. The wide audience can also find this schol-

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arly material easily approachable, thanks to the efforts of all the scholars that
contributed to it.1
ALEXANDER ALEXAKIS
The Richard Stockton College of New Jersey

Veiled Women. Volume I: The Disappearance of Nuns from Anglo-Saxon England; Volume II: Female Religious Communities in England, 871–1066.
By Sarah Foot. [Studies in Early Medieval Britain, 1.] (Burlington, Vermont:
Ashgate. 2000. Pp. xvii, 228; xii, 274. $79.95 each volume.)
Sarah Foot’s survey of Anglo-Saxon religious women includes a first volume
that analyzes their historical (or historiographical) “disappearance” after 800
and a second volume that offers an extremely valuable repertory of women’s
communities. Aimed at an audience of informed but not specialist readers,
Foot’s project purports to provide the “first convincing explanation for the
evanescence of so many of the institutions of female religion in the early Middle Ages” (p. vii). Foot has selected an appropriate readership, for her argument
does not contain much that is new for historians of Christian women. Her explanation of changes in religious communities is not entirely convincing either,
but her method with the English sources may be instructive to Continental
historians.
As Foot points out, sources for the study of English nuns are scanty, especially
for the reform period (late Anglo-Saxon period) of 900–1066. Bede, the vita of
Leoba, other Bonifacian material, the Mildrith legend, and council and charter
evidence record the vibrant spiritual life of religious women in the seventh and
eighth centuries. But the few, famous double-houses of male and female religious run by royal women eventually declined with the political dynasties that
founded them. Historians from Dugdale onward have tended to use these famous early minsters and their documents as models for later religious communities; scholars have judged the success of later religious foundations by
comparison with these pre-Viking houses. The charters and other texts of
ninth-century and later England focus on powerful and well-funded houses,normally of men; so historians have concluded that religious women disappeared
in the ninth century. While women’s houses seem to have resurfaced after the
Norman conquest, scholars have found little continuity in the history of
women’s communities before and after the Viking invasions and religious reforms of the tenth century.

1
Dumbarton Oaks, anticipating future developments in the field of Humanities, has
made the whole work available to the public free of charge through its own WWW site at
http://www.doaks.org/typ0 0 0 .html.

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Foot argues that religious women continued to create communities between
the ninth and eleventh centuries, but that we have failed to see them in the
sources. She calls for renewed scrutiny of the vocabulary of religious life and
for a new look at a variety of documents. Cloistered communities of women did
not attract royal support or endowment in the tenth and eleventh centuries.
Women’s communities did not appear in documents recording property transactions, nor did communities have the wealth to generate charters of their
own. In addition, women’s religious communities were not always identified as
such in the texts; sometimes writers identified religious foundations as monasteria, mynsters without specifying the gender of inhabitants. In addition,
religious women lived on what historians have taken for “secular” estates, rendering them invisible to scholars searching for nunneries. Most important, Foot
argues, women in Anglo-Saxon England practiced religion in “fluid and diverse
modes of expression” (p. 1) that are impossible for historians to recover fully.
Women lived as vowesses or religious widows in their own homes or the
homes of others. Their communities had life-cycles, just as did religious women
themselves; communities of vowesses might last only for the lifetime of their
foundresses. All these historical conditions contributed to the so-called historical disappearance of English religious women from the sources.
The trouble is, according to Foot, that we are still looking for cloistered Benedictine women whereas Anglo-Saxon women maintained a variety of religious
roles in the reform period. Foot argues that we must conceive of two parallel
frameworks for the lives of religious women: Benedictine cloistered women
(muncenas, mynecenas) in exclusive endowed foundations, on the one hand,
and on the other hand, virgin or widowed vowesses (nunnes, nonnae) in less
formal communities. Stray references from witness lists of charters indicate
vowed women who maintained religious lives on their own inherited property.
These documents and others, such as eleventh-century liturgical forms for the
consecration of widows, demonstrate the continuing vitality of women’s communities in the late Anglo-Saxon period.
In the second volume of this book, Foot identifies forty-odd “impoverished,
transitory, and generally ill-attested” communities in addition to the nine or ten
royal West Saxon nunneries still extant in the ninth and tenth centuries. She
elaborates a detailed typology for these communities, divided into two categories based on the types of evidence available for each site. More useful than
the typology are the maps of sites and the repertory of communities, alphabetically ordered by site. Foot’s repertory is better than earlier collections (Dugdale, Knowles, and Hadcock) because she includes more kinds of sites and
updated information about each house from both primary and secondary
sources. Ideally, this information should be entered into a fully searchable online database with links to bibliographic materials.
Foot’s analysis is mostly persuasive but oddly out of balance. Her insistence
that women’s religious lives in either pre- or post-Viking England were not ham-

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pered by men’s ill judgment of their abilities is based on little else than her
opinion. She staunchly rejects more critical, “feminist” interpretations of the
poverty of women’s houses or their lack of direct participation in tenthcentury reform, as found in the work of Jo Ann McNamara and Roberta
Gilchrist. Her strict typology of women’s religious communities is ingenious
but not necessarily more useful than more fluid conceptions of nuns and
vowesses. Much of her interpretation relies on a few secondary sources,such as
the unpublished doctoral dissertation of D. B. Schneider. The real value of this
publication lies in its call for a re-examination of sources and vocabularies and
in the repertory of women’s communities.
LISA M. BITEL
University of Southern California

The Cartulary of St-Marcel-lès-Chalon, 779–1126. Edited by Constance
Brittain Bouchard. [Medieval Academy Books, No. 102.] (Cambridge,
Massachusetts: The Medieval Academy of America. 1998. Pp. x, 179.
$24.00.)
Created in the early twelfth century, the cartulary of St-Marcel-lès-Chalon,
which was founded in the Saône Valley about sixty kilometers north of Mâcon
in c. 584 and re-founded as a dependent priory of Cluny in c. 990, includes 122
charters, the originals of which have all perished except for a 779 charter of
Charlemagne’s (no. 3). During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, charters from the cartulary were copied individually or in small sets into various collections; two copies of the cartulary were also made, one including all but one
of the charters in the early twelfth-century manuscript. Besides Charlemagne’s
charter and a forged charter of King Guntram dated 584, the cartulary contains
six charters from the ninth century (two of them forgeries), twelve from the
tenth, seventy-six from the eleventh, and twenty-six from the twelfth century
down to 1126.
Although an edition of the Cartulary of St-Marcel-lès-Chalon was published in
1896, the great value of Constance Brittain Bouchard’s new edition of the same
text is evident and not simply because the previous Canat de Chizy edition is
now difficult to obtain (Cartulaire du prieuré de Saint-Marcel-les-Chalon,
edited by Marcel and Paul Canat de Chizy [Chalon-sur-Saône], 1894). Instead of
normalizing the text of the cartulary, as the previous editors did, Bouchard now
publishes an accurate transcription of the early twelfth-century manuscript of
the cartulary (BnF MS nouv. acqu. Lat. 496; previously MS nouv. acq. Lat 1676);
she provides a valuable index of persons and places, a chronological index of
the charters, a list of the known provosts and priors of St-Marcel from 779 to
1126, a map of the region around Chalon that shows more than thirty places
mentioned in the cartulary, and a short, useful bibliography. The editor’s intro-

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duction treats the history of the community of St-Marcel, the manuscript of the
cartulary and the copies mentioned above, the 1896 edition of the cartulary,
and the present edition. The introduction also discusses St-Marcel’s property
and the terms on which it was held, the measurements of land used in StMarcel charters, and the types of transactions that the charters in the cartulary
record. For each charter in the cartulary, the editor provides a brief English
summary and also lists the manuscripts in which the charter is found, as well as
previous editions of it. Annotations to the charters generally concern persons
and places mentioned in these texts.
As the editor notes, the charters of St-Marcel provide significant evidence
about the history of this priory from the late tenth to the early twelfth century,
its relations with its lay patrons, and the socio-economic history of the region
in the vicinity of Chalons, where the monastery held its property. The study of
these texts also illuminates a wide range of topics relating to eleventh- and early
twelfth-century monasticism. For making this important text available to readers in such a fine edition, Professor Bouchard deserves great praise and gratitude.
STEPHEN D.WHITE
Emory University

The Myth of Pope Joan. By Alain Boureau. Translated by Lydia G. Cochrane.
(Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. 2001. Pp. x, 385. $60.00 clothbound; $22.50 paperback.)
Joan refuses to go away. If she had lived—and Boureau states early and often
that this is highly unlikely—she was,presumably,an English woman educated at
Mainz who ran off with a lover to Athens, secured a superb education, traveled
to Rome, began a teaching career, and then, unrecognized as a woman, was
elected pope in 855. According to the usual telling of the story, after she had
reigned for two years and some months,while crossing Rome from St. Peter’s to
the Lateran, she gave birth to a child in a street near San Clemente and died immediately. Thereafter, for many centuries, newly elected popes were subjected
to a physical inspection to prove their sex. Of course, there is no actual gap in
the papal succession between Leo IV and Benedict III, so on occasion Joan has
been identified with John VIII, or else with one or another of the tenth-century
Johns (several of whom were sufficiently unattractive figures to evoke later
ridicule). Joan’s story was not told until it began circulating, especially in Dominican circles, in the thirteenth century, and then it proliferated with astonishing speed and breadth. Boreau devotes some space to telling the story in its
familiar guise. It is not his intention to recapitulate the history of Joan but instead to tell and analyze the history of the Joan-myth. This he does brilliantly in
a book that is learned, packed with keen observations on numerous aspects of

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the West’s cultural history, a self-conscious essay on historical methodology,
and, because of its compelling subject and luminous prose, a great read.
The book proceeds through a series of chapters that tackle various aspects
of the Joan-myth. The first three explore the fascinating tale of the supposed
rite by means of which the cardinals assured themselves that the newly-elected
possessed “pontificals” (i.e., male genitalia). Boreau notes that one writer after
another took his account of this supposed ritual from someone else and that, in
the end, centuries’ worth of alleged eye-witnesses turn out to be anything but
that. He also shows that no liturgical evidence ever was, or could be, adduced.
Finally, he observes that once a man has been elected, he is pope: period. No
subsequent ceremony can make or unmake him. Commentators for a thousand
years ought to have known this. Boureau’s discussion is too complex and interesting to attempt a summary of it here, but I might say that Roman politics, the
increasing sophistication and clericalization of ecclesiastical ritual, and the simultaneously light and dark comedy of the carnival were all at work. These
chapters are characteristic of the book as a whole: The story, albeit untrue in
the most basic sense, was repeatedly recounted, and so it acquired truth, so to
speak, in other senses. These senses reveal patterns of meaning in medieval life
and thought.
The next two chapters explore the thirteenth to fifteenth centuries, the time
when the story of Joan was most frequently told and, on all available evidence,
most widely believed. Once again, it is impossible in a review to do justice to
the range of issues raised by Boreau. Joan was initially and repeatedly popularized by Dominicans: Jean de Mailly, Etienne de Bourbon, Martinus Polonus, Jacopo da Voragine, Arnoldus of Liège, Bernard Gui, and Tolommeo da Lucca
(among others). This is food for thought, and Boureau sits long at the table. He
also asks about Franciscan propagandists whose views on the authority of the
papacy in general tended to track with papal attitudes toward the more rigorous among the Friars Minor. In 1294 (the date of Celestine V’s abdication) Joan
was appropriated to show how to get rid of an illegitimate pope or to prove
how cunning and trickery could subvert the papal office. Martinus Polonus inaugurated a long tradition of juridical arguments. He, like William of Ockham
later, did not deny Joan’s existence. He said that she was a legally elected but ineligible person and, therefore, not legitimately the pope. William’s twist was to
argue that Joan’s election was a matter of “fact” but not of faith. The Great
Schism provoked all sorts of reflections on how to get rid of illegitimate popes
and Joan’s case was grist to many mills. Joan of Arc and Tarot cards (this is one
of the most intriguing sections of the book!) prompted reflections on Joan then
and illuminating comments from Boureau here.
The Reformation era,the subject of the next two chapters,decisively affected
Joan’s career. Protestant writers, particularly in the Lutheran tradition, seized on
Joan as proof of the wickedness of the Roman Church and the illegitimacy of
the papacy. This kind of criticism was new and, evidently, jarring. By the middle

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of the sixteenth century Catholic writers began for the first time to argue in detail—in historical detail—that Joan was a fabrication and her whole story untrue. The seventeenth century added some depth and precision to historical
wrangling about Joan, but thereafter nothing really new was added to the
dossier.
Boureau concludes with a shrewd remark: One cannot separate a historiography of Joan from discourse about her, for they take their rise at once in the
work of Jean de Mailly (ca. 1260). Whatever we might think of a discussion of
all those who have discussed Joan, it is not history. So, Boureau exchanges an
ontological argument for an anthropological one. He says: “I have attempted to
discern the strong, overall significance of the story of Joan in the societies
through which it traveled, but also to avoid limiting the significance to ecclesiastical history, folklore, or simple anecdotal curiosity. . . . Legend has a power to
crystallize and to precipitate. . . . The popess seemed to me to offer a convenient entry into worlds of belief very remote from our own” (pp. 307–308).
First published in French in 1988, this remarkable book will now reach a
wider audience in Lydia Cochrane’s admirable translation, which does full justice to Boureau’s prose, which is labyrinthine but also elegant and seductive.
The book’s seventeen-page-long list of contributors to the Joan myth (updated
to 1998) will be of value to those who in the future set out to discover yet more
Joans. I cannot imagine any reader who would not be taught and delighted by
this book.
THOMAS F. X. NOBLE
University of Notre Dame

The Practice of Penance, 900–1050. By Sarah Hamilton. [Royal Historical Society, Studies in History, New series, Volume 20.] (Rochester, New York: The
Royal Historical Society; The Boydell Press. 2001. Pp. xiv, 275. $75.00.)
The author’s intent is expressed in this manner: “This study seeks to demonstrate that the development of penitential practice in the tenth and early
eleventh centuries, whilst it owed a considerable debt to that under the Carolingians, also showed considerable independence, as witnessed by the
changes recorded in the penitential liturgies of this period” (p. 18). The temporal limits (900–1050) are defined by Regino of Prüm (d. 915), who incorporated much of the Carolingian liturgical material into his collection, and the
reform movement that began in the middle of the eleventh century. The geographical boundaries are “the Reich” (p. 19, 207), specifically,“Italy, east Francia
and Lotharingia,stretching into the province of Rheims in west Francia” (p. 19).
In this richly documented study Sarah Hamilton examines a wide range of
topics to illustrate the early medieval approach to the practice of penance: the
legal collections of Regino of Prüm and Burchard of Worms (chap. 1); the

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means used by bishops to instruct the lower clergy (chap. 2); penance among
monks and canons (chap. 3); actual cases of penance in narrative sources covering different social orders (e.g., royalty, the lower orders) and spheres of action (e.g., politics, warfare, sex) (chap. 6).
The core of the study is in the fourth and fifth chapters, which deal with formal liturgies of penance. In the fourth chapter the author presents a careful
analysis of the rituals (ordines) of public and private penance in the RomanoGerman Pontifical (PRG) (ca. 950). Her aim seems to be threefold: to analyze
the rituals, to note diversity of practices among copies, and to make the point
that the PRG did not dominate the field. The last two points are then illustrated
in the fifth chapter, which deals in a less detailed manner with other liturgical
rituals of penance: (1) the Fulda sacramentaries, (2) “‘the north-central’ family
of rites of public penance” (p. 150), and (3) evidence from Italian rites. The discussion of the formal rituals of penance is enhanced by two appendices, one
dealing with the distribution of manuscripts of the PRG, the other dealing with
formal rites of penance outside the PRG tradition. The approach is indebted to
Mary Mansfield’s methodology (The Humiliation of Sinners: Public Penance
in Thirteenth-Century France [1995]).
This is a fine study that generally fulfills the author’s intent cited above and
expands our knowledge of a neglected period in the history of penance. Space
allows but a few critical remarks. One must remember that talk of the distribution of the PRG is simply about the distribution of its thirty-nine extant manuscripts. Destroyed or undiscovered manuscripts could well modify theses about
distribution. Although the author deals briefly with the rituals of penance in
some later penitentials (pp. 44–50), it would have been helpful if she had related those rituals to the formal rituals that she studies in detail. This may well
have thrown light on the question of the origins of one-stop penance, i.e., confession, the assignment of penance, and the reception of absolution in one confessional event. Finally, I do not believe the expression “secret penance” is
preferable to “private penance.” Whatever the problems of calling a confession
private that was performed openly in a church, the confession was most definitely not secret. I believe the confession was,in a thirteenth-century formula—
in the open, in the sight of all but out of earshot.
Two points: the author uses the same abbreviation (Va) for two different
manuscripts (Vat. lat. 3548 [p. 138] and Vat. lat. 472 [p. 169]). The PRG was published in the series “Studi e testi,” Volumes ccxxvi (not ccvi), ccxxvii (not ccvii),
and cclxix.
PIERRE J. PAYER
Mount Saint Vincent University (Emeritus)

The Measure of Multitude: Population in Medieval Thought. By Peter Biller.
(New York: Oxford University Press. 2000. Pp. xxi, 476. $55.00.)

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How did medieval people, and the intellectual elite in particular, think about
world population and the bundle of topics that we nowadays call demography—if and when they thought about these matters at all? Did they worry
about optimum population size? If so, what did they do, or think they ought to
do, to achieve it? How did practical experience with the world outside of Europe—crusades, missionary work, commercial contacts with non-Christians,
and expeditions to the Far East, for example—affect notions about population
that scholars encountered in the learned literature that they studied? These are
the central questions that Peter Biller poses and seeks to answer in his wideranging and erudite monograph.
Christian beliefs and values played a key role in medieval speculations about
marriage, reproduction, and population, and Biller accordingly devotes the first
and lengthiest section of his book (chapters 2–8) to an investigation both of religious teachings about his topic and of the consequences of those teachings,
so far as they can be discovered, on the actions of the Christian faithful. A second, much shorter, section of the book (chapter 9) looks at medieval geographical texts, as well as accounts of journeys outside of Western Europe, to the
Holy Land and to Asia. In the following section (chapters 10–13) Biller explores
treatments of demography in medieval translations from Greek and Arabic of
works that deal with natural philosophy and medicine. He devotes no less than
three chapters to the medieval reception of Aristotle’s Politics, which he finds
exceptionally important in this context. A concluding chapter focuses on demographic ideas current in a single city at one specific point in time, namely,
Florence around the year 1300. Here Biller is particularly concerned with
Dante’s observations about population levels,as well as with the physical traces
of the city’s growth, as evidenced by the large-scale expansion of its walls at
about this time.
Biller has drawn upon a vast array of sources in preparing his book. In its first
section, where he devotes no less than three chapters to the theory and practice of contraception and abortion, he covers ground previously explored by
John Noonan (1966) and John Riddle (1992 and 1997), among others, but also
takes into account a considerable range of additional evidence. He draws much
of this from William of Auvergne’s treatise on the sacrament of marriage and
from pastoral manuals, notably William of Pagula’s Oculus sacerdotis and
Speculum prelatorum ac religiosorum. Wolfgang Müller’s admirable study of
the criminalization of abortion (2000) might have added important nuances to
his treatment of the canon law on abortion, but that work no doubt appeared
after Biller’s book had gone to press.
Biller makes some intriguing observations about medieval life expectancy,
but he apparently overlooked one important area where this was crucial,
namely, the pricing of life annuities. These instruments were in frequent use
throughout western Europe from the thirteenth century onwards as a means of
securing immediate cash against the hazard of a future liability. Monasteries often raised money this way, and medieval lawyers, civilian and canonist, dealt

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with the topic in considerable detail, as does an important modern study by
Werner Ogris (1961), as well as a 1989 dissertation by Ronald Necoechea (University of California at Los Angeles).
That said, Biller’s volume is a valuable and original contribution to a facet of
medieval life and thought that has previously received scant attention from historians.
JAMES A. BRUNDAGE
The University of Kansas

Le cartulaire de l’abbaye cistercienne de Hautcrêt (fin (XIIe siècle). Edited by
Alexandre Pahud, Bernadette Perreaud, and Jean-Luc Rouiller. [Cahiers lausannois d’histoire médiévale, 29.] (Lausanne: Université de Lausanne.
2001. Pp. 228. FrS. 35.–.)
When documents for Hautcrêt were published by J.-J. Hisely in 1854, the editor included all surviving documents for this community that he could find,
whether surviving in original copies or only in cartulary versions, presenting
them in chronological order, placing those without dates in an appendix. Here
in the 2001 edition of the cartulary, the editors have republished Hautcrêt’s
charters as they appear in the late-twelfth century charter book. The codicological reconstruction in the new edition makes sense of certain charters garbled in earlier publications because the cartulary had been rebound out of
its original order. The presentation of cartulary as cartulary and as itself evidence about administrative structures follows the latest trends in cartulary
treatment—restoration of an original cartulary version and order,rather than attempted reconstruction of parchment originals sometimes only found in cartulary copies. In this case additional work might also provide evidence for
intermediate stages in the evolution of this charter book which reflect changing relationships among individual donors, land, and monastic community.
While the work of transcription, editing, and identification of individuals and
place-names is of an extremely high standard, less satisfactory are the editors’
attempts to restore dates to the undated charters in the book (about 80 of the
total 103 are undated). In part this is inevitable given so few published acts. But
the methodology adopted uses the appearance of an individual in a dated charters to bracket the date of another act—but sometimes this is a close bracketing and other times not; the system does not allow that distinction to be made.
The problem is that although the individual for whom we have a single date
may have lived up to perhaps fifty years earlier or later (probably not both) than
the single dated appearance we have, that fact does not really help in dating the
undated documents. Perhaps a better method is that advocated by Michael
Gervers and others in a recent volume, using changing vocabulary, for instance
in descriptions of the community or of its inhabitants, to establish a relative

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chronology of dates.1 Here there are brothers at Altcrest, then gifts to Beata
Maria de Altcrest, then to Sancta Maria de Altcrest, then to the monastery of
Hautcrêt, etc. We also see the gradual replacement of the term “fratri” for all
members of the community by specific references to monks and conversi.
But there is a second problem that adds to the confusion regarding dating,
and that is the editors’ assumptions about Hautcrêt as a Cistercian abbey,
founded in the standard gestational model by colonization from within the Cistercian Order. All the evidence of the cartulary (with the exception of a foundation document restored by the editors to its opening pages and not actually
extant in the twelfth-century volume) suggests an eremitical community at the
outset, with no abbot and no distinction between lay-brothers and monks who
all worked with their hands for their sustenance, possibly by clearing land (one
holding is called Sartis), created with the support of bishops of Lausanne and
local secular authorities. The community was visited and presumably attached
to the Cistercians by Abbot Gerald of Hauterive circa 1157 or slightly earlier
when this Gerald is said to have then left his abbacy at Hauterive (at that point
still not Cistercian) to become a monk at the Cistercian house of Cherlieu. In attaching Hautcrêt to his own community,Gerald may have sent Magnus to be the
first abbot there. Magnus was very active over the next few years in attracting
gifts and making contracts with the surrounding community, as the cartulary
shows. So Hautcrêt was founded before 1150, and became Cistercian only circa
1157. In fact, the earliest reference to the Cistercian Order in the cartulary
(charter 15) is dated by the editors to circa 1165 and may be as late as the
1180’s; the dated charter 103 mentioning the Cistercians is from 1271—a later
insertion to the volume. Reference to Eugenius III and Bernard of Clairvaux in
charter 9 (dated 1157) is retrospective, but interesting—stating as it does that
Eugenius and Bernard denied that certain land had been given to the brothers
of Hautcrêt in whom apparently Eugenius and Bernard had little interest at the
time. The abbot Magnus, who appears to be the first abbot of the community,
may have ruled for twenty-three or twenty-four years, from 1157 to 1180, but
there is no reason to attribute an extra decade of leadership to him—from
1147;references I have managed to trace to Magnus in other local cartularies do
not come from before 1157 either, and it is likely that Magnus was responsible
for the charters being drawn up, and possibly for cartulary copies made. Despite such considerations, the fact that such a reconstruction of the abbey’s origins can be quite easily gleaned from the cartulary shows the skill with which
it has been re-edited by the three editors.
CONSTANCE H.BERMAN
University of Iowa

1
Dating Undated Medieval Charters, edited by Michael Gervers (Woodbridge, Suffolk:
Boydell Press for Collegium Budapest Institute for Advanced Study, 2000).

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The Cathars. By Malcolm Lambert. (Malden, Massachusetts: Blackwell Publishers. 1998. Pp. viii, 334. $29.95 paperback.)
The “Cathars” are the most famous heretics of the Middle Ages, the vivid paradigms of religious dissent to the Catholic Church by which all other medieval
heretics are compared and understood. The Cathars, first rising up in the
twelfth century, deriving their stark dualistic beliefs from enigmatic Bogomil
missionaries journeying from the Balkans to western Europe, immigrating far
and wide from the Mediterranean to the North Sea until, around the turn of the
thirteenth century, they established an elaborate episcopate, a “Church” to
some scholars, with systematic doctrines, a holy ascetic elite known as the “perfects,” and corresponding affiliations in Languedoc, northern Italy, Catalonia,
England, northern France, and the Rhineland. This epic narrative reaches its
tragic crescendo in the bloody violence of the Albigensian Crusade in the first
half of the thirteenth century and, thereafter, the relentless persecutions of inquisitors until Catharism disappears, for all intents and purposes, sometime in
the early fourteenth century. Malcolm Lambert,with deep erudition allied to pristine sensitive prose, masterfully narrates this distinctive history in The Cathars.
Lambert, from the very start, stresses that Catharism was a “religious movement,” a clear and distinct ordo, and so it is his understanding of “religion” that
profoundly shapes how he studies and imagines the Cathars. Unquestionably,
Lambert considers religion to be essentially idealist in nature, so that it is the
doctrines, theology, morals, and intellectual life of the Cathars that he concentrates upon and so evokes throughout his book. This vision of Catharism openly
accepts that the dualist ideas of heretics (good God, bad god, benign spirit, evil
matter) are recognizably the same and decidedly articulate, no matter how vast
the geographical and cultural differences from one region of Europe to another.
Tying together the similar in time and space is, at best, only the beginning of an
argument about the past and not the concluding proof about why a particular
society once thought certain ideas worth thinking. As such the “striking likenesses” Lambert observes between the Cathars and the Bogomils, or even between heretics in Lombardy and the Toulousain, though intriguing, are not in
themselves evidence of a connection.
Crucially, this idealist tendency causes Lambert, and so many others, to tag
all medieval heretics whose beliefs seem vaguely dualist with the label of
“Cathar.” Oddly enough, very few heretics were actually called “Cathars” in the
Middle Ages, certainly some in the Rhineland and in northern Italy, but no person, for instance, used the title in Languedoc (rather they were the “good men”
and “good women”). It is only in the last century that Cathar, absorbing the
more regional designation of “Albigensian,” has become the term of choice
amongst scholars. Yet, in making the Cathars such coherent and concrete figures, in classifying certain individuals and their thoughts as similar to each
other, in joining dissenting dots until we get a pervasive heretical “Church,” we
lose the specificity of what heresy meant at particular times and places in a

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kind of cultural determinism, in that if there were no Cathars, no widespread
organized ordo of dissent, then something intrinsic to the Middle Ages must
have produced them, no matter the evidence to the contrary.
All this has the interesting effect of causing Lambert to emphasize the writings of Catholic intellectuals, especially Italian inquisitors and former heretics,
who present an image of Catharism (and so of heresy) as doctrinally coherent
and international. A stark contrast to the testimonies collected by inquisitors,
especially in Languedoc, where thousands of men and women confess to a
heresy that is quite malleable in belief, not always opposed to the Church, and
distinctly localized. An even more fascinating aspect of this tendency to search
for the religious unity of a heresy in the theoretical unity of its ideas is that,
somewhat ironically, this was how inquisitors themselves came to understand
heterodoxy by the beginning of the fourteenth century (and clearly observed
in the famous inquisition of Jacques Fournier). This intellectualization of
heresy, which affected not only those who persecuted but also those who deliberately chose to resist the Church, necessitates more wariness than is usually
given in the general interpretation of Catharism.
Finally, it comes as something of a surprise, considering the enormous interest (scholarly and silly) that the Cathars attract, to realize that Lambert has written the first comprehensive book in English on these paradigmatic heretics
since Walter Wakefield’s essential study on crusading and heresy in southern
France of 1974. (Malcolm Barber’s excellent The Cathars appeared in 2000
and, while mentioning other parts of Europe, focuses primarily on Languedoc.)
In many ways it is also the first book in any language, apart from Arno Borst’s influential Die Katharer published half a century ago, to combine the classic
story of the Cathars with an exhaustive and thoughtful survey of the historiography. Lambert,while far from denying the remarkable contributions of persons
such as Jean Duvernoy or Bernard Hamilton, is especially concerned to elucidate, and so make known to a wider audience, recent German and Eastern European scholarship on Catharism (noting, with particular admiration, the
encyclopaedic work on Cathar doctrine by Gerhard Rottenwöhrer). This
breadth of reading amongst other scholars and the gracious manner in which it
is expertly summarized and evaluated, a process largely undertaken in the footnotes, is one of the great gifts of this book. The Cathars, even with some of the
above observations in mind, encapsulating Lambert’s long and learned familiarity with medieval heresy is, quite simply, indispensable.
MARK GREGORY PEGG
Washington University

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Clare’s Letters to Agnes: Texts and Sources. By Joan Mueller. (St. Bonaventure,
New York: The Franciscan Institute. 2001. Pp. ix, 269. $21.95 paperback.)
Light Shining Through a Veil: On Saint Clare’s Letters to Saint Agnes of
Prague. By Edith A. Van den Goorbergh, O.S.C., and Theodore H. Zweerman, O.F.M. Translated by Aline Looman-Graaskamp and Frances Teresa,
O.C.S. (Leuven: Peeters. 2000. Pp. xi, 33.)
Since the eighth centenary of her birth in 1993, Clare of Assisi has emerged
from her cloister and into the limelight. Two recent full-length studies have
made valuable contributions to an understanding of Clare in her context as a
medieval woman and to the relevance of her message for our time. Joan
Mueller’s work, Clare’s Letters to Agnes: Texts and Sources, provides an assessment of the sources of Clare’s letters in the ancient Legend of Saint Agnes of
Rome, the struggle of Agnes of Prague amidst the papal and royal correspondence of the Premysl dynasty, as well as her association with the early brothers.
Mueller includes the Latin text of the letters, an English translation, and extensive footnotes commenting on the meaning of Clare’s message in her time and
ours.
Clare’s Letters to Agnes: Texts and Sources is simultaneously about Clare of
Assisi, Agnes of Prague, and Agnes of Rome and how their histories intertwine.
These are the three major figures confronting contemporary readers who study
Clare of Assisi’s Letters as a source of early Franciscan spirituality, Agnes of
Prague as an influential woman caught by the vision of Francis and his friars, or
the ancient Christian legend of Agnes of Rome, popularly known for choosing
martyrdom in order to preserve her virginity.
In the introduction to Clare’s Letters to Agnes, Mueller presents the manuscript tradition of Clare’s four letters, brief biographies to illustrate the relationship of Clare and Agnes of Prague, and her intent to examine Clare’s letters
in their historical cultural context. Part One of Mueller’s book provides the
Latin texts of Clare’s four letters, an English translation, and historical and philological guidance for reading and interpretation. The extensive footnotes serve
as a commentary to establish the background of Agnes of Prague, her royal family, and her place in the history of Bohemia. This approach led Mueller to identify the “three substantial sources” for Clare’s letters which she treats in
separate essays in the remainder of the book.
Part Two begins with an essay elucidating “The Legend of Saint Agnes of
Rome as Source.” Mueller argues that Clare seems to have known and improvised on the Legend of Saint Agnes, and that their dependence on the Legend
cannot be fully traced through consulting only the antiphons and responsories
of the January 21 Office of Saint Agnes. Mueller’s second essay “The Primitive
Franciscan Climate as Source: Clare’s Letters and the Early Brothers,” demonstrates how the spirit of Clare’s letters is comparable to the spirit of the early
Franciscan brothers. Mueller demonstrates how Clare’s theology helped to put

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a Franciscan stamp on the evolving penitential movement of the early thirteenth century.
“The Privilege of Poverty as Source: Clare’s Letters amid Papal and Royal Correspondence,” Mueller’s third essay in Part Two, places the letters in the medieval ecclesiastical world, especially within the context of pertinent papal
bulls. By focusing on the juridical documents relating to Agnes of Prague and
the correspondence of the Premysl royal family with thirteenth-century papal
officials, Mueller uncovers the tensions that developed from her desire to live
“without possessions” according to the form of life given to Clare and her sisters by Francis himself. Such an ideal manner of living the gospel clashed with
the papacy’s desire to organize various groups of penitential women under a
generic form of life appropriate for all groups of penitential women. Mueller’s
evidence relies on sources until this time generally inaccessible to the Englishspeaking world because the critical edition of the Legend of Saint Agnes and
essential research on Agnes of Prague appear in the Czech language. Accordingly, one of the major contributions of Mueller’s book is its expansion and review of the latest scholarship on Agnes of Prague.
Part Three presents a complete English translation of the Legend of Agnes of
Rome to illustrate its influence on Clare’s letters to Agnes. Including this text
permits English-speaking readers to determine for themselves the extent of
Clare’s borrowings from the ancient Latin legend. Mueller presents the text in
lessons, as it is divided in the breviary, pointing to Clare’s dependence and allusions to the Agnes Office. She concludes the essay with a chart succinctly summarizing her findings.
Mueller’s work contains historic, linguistic, and etymological information, extending the study of Clare from western to Eastern Europe by including treatment of the Czech royalty and the work of its contemporary scholars. Aside
from Mueller’s scholarship, her book is worthwhile for the Latin text of Clare’s
letters and the English translation of the Legend of Agnes of Rome. The three
parts of Clare’s Letters to Agnes: Texts and Sources do not attempt to present a
single argument about either Clare or Agnes as much as they try to examine the
letters in their context and on their own terms, inviting the reader to patch together the historical significance of Clare’s relationship to Agnes of Prague and
the meaning of her letters.
Edith Van den Goorbergh,O.S.C.,and Theodore H. Zweerman,O.F.M.,in Light
Shining Through A Veil: On Saint Clare’s Letters to Saint Agnes of Prague also
include the Latin text of Clare’s letters and an English translation. This book, a
translation from a 1994 Dutch text, is the most thorough treatment of the letters to date. It includes numerous charts demonstrating the concentric structure, complexity, and depth of the letters, always returning to their origin as
evidence of Clare’s intimacy with God and its consequence in her human re-

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lationship. While historically rooted, the book deals primarily with Clare’s spirituality.
INGRID PETERSON, O.S.F.
Tau Center
Winona, Minnesota

Dal pulpito alla cattedra. I vescovi degli ordini mendicanti nel ’2 0 0 e nel
primo ’3 0 0 . Atti del XXVII Convegno internazionale, Assisi, 14–16 ottobre
1999. [Atti dei Convegni della Società internazionale di studi francescani e
del Centro interuniversitario di studi francescani. Nuova serie, 10.] (Spoleto: Centro Italiano di studi sull’Alto Medioevo. 2000. Pp. x, 420. Lire
90.000 paperback.)
Every year in October since 1972, members of the Società internazionale di
studi francescani and the Centro interuniversitario di studi francescani gather
with other interested scholars in Assisi to discuss and debate a theme germane
to the study of the Franciscan movement (or, more broadly, the mendicant Orders) in the Middle Ages. The theme treated in the Assisi convegno of 1999 concerned the friars, most particularly the Franciscans and Dominicans, who
served as bishops and archbishops in the thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries—a theme all-too-rarely treated in any systematic manner of late. Indeed,
one of the primary contributions of these Assisi convegni over the years has
been to illuminate the impact of the friars in the public arena of European society (through its innovations in preaching and confessing, its influence upon
culture and literature, etc.) more than to explore the particular dynamics of its
internal struggles. Hence, this conference brings together a wealth of materials
from disparate sources and countries, adding to a fuller understanding of the involvement of the mendicants in the public ministry of the Church as its shepherds in the Middle Ages.
On the whole, most of the authors know and use the standard sources on
mendicant bishops (e.g., Eubel, Gumbley, Oliger, and Pellegrini); several, not all,
take advantage of the valuable research of the American Williell R. Thomson
(Friars in the Cathedral), and one author has even made use of a very recent
article by Rudolf Schieffer on the first Dominican bishops (in a 1999 festschrift
for Kaspar Elm, Vita religiosa im Mittelalter). Nevertheless, it is the particular
use that each of the ten authors makes of the various sources that constitutes
their most valuable contribution to the subject of friar-bishops.
The opening presentation,by Antonio Rigon,sets out the paradox which both
Orders—the Franciscans and Dominicans—had to confront in order to serve as
bishops within the Church: namely, how could friars, ostensibly dedicated to
the “poverty and humility of Jesus Christ,” square their vocational charism

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(which had concrete implications for their choice of social rank among the
lower classes) with the desires of the papacy and, to a lesser extent, certain
other clergy, that they serve as prelates which, by definition, would place them
in a higher social class with an array of extraordinary powers and perquisites at
their disposal? Rigon uses as his touchstone the famous account of 2 Celano
148–150 where both Francis and Dominic turned aside the request of Cardinal
Hugolino (later Pope Gregory IX) that they allow their sons to serve as bishops.
The author notes, contrary to expectation, that initial opposition to this evolution in both Orders was actually more vociferous among the Dominicans. Rigon
then frames the uneasy coexistence of these two vocations as being between
those friars who had agreed, often quite reluctantly, to become bishops (frativescovi) and those who were first and foremost churchmen who also just happened to be friars (vescovi-frati). Though he asserts that the former stance
predominated over the latter in both Orders, resulting in a notable and positive
impact upon the life of the Church, he offers no real evidence for his assertion—an assertion, moreover, belied by data presented in other presentations.
Moving to the two introductory overviews, it must be said that the primary
novelty of Edith Pasztor’s contribution is that she constructs a list of mendicant
bishops on the basis of the Vatican registers rather than the standard edited
sources. She also highlights a critical datum: that the pontificate of Innocent IV
(1243–1254) represented a significant turning point in the participation of
both Orders in episcopal service as the papacy began using the friars unreservedly to accomplish its own politico-religious aims, especially against the
Hohenstaufen. But she also reminds us that the imposition of its own candidates upon local canonical chapters becomes official curial policy only in 1264
under Urban IV. As will be the case with the succeeding authors, Pasztor is careful to delimit (and justify) the specific parameters of her survey—in this case,
up to (but not including) the pontificate of Boniface VIII, which was to witness
another significant increase in the number of friars entering the episcopacy.
The next essay, by Giancarlo Andenna, is actually an elaborate reconstruction of
the events which provided the backdrop to the creation of the 2 Cel 149 pericope (and its probable origin in Compilatio assisiensis 49). The author notes
that whereas in the late 1220’s Gregory IX had used both Orders to further the
missionary endeavors of the Church (in North Africa, Spain, and Eastern Europe), by the late 1230’s the pontiff had started using these “men of action” in
more overtly political roles in Italy and southern France; in these events several
Dominicans were raised to the episcopacy. A change, however, is signaled in the
pontificate of Innocent IV who, between 1246 and 1247, began elevating friars
from both Orders to bishoprics, especially to further his political agenda in the
fight against Frederick II. To this end, he now drew the Friars Minors into an
episcopal service, which Gregory IX had hitherto reserved to the Dominicans;
henceforth the friars of both Orders will be episcopabili. This step, however,
finds an echo in the Dominican General Chapter of 1246 where both Orders
are viewed as “twins” in the same ecclesial service. The author characterizes
these friars more as “men of thought,” drawn increasingly from the educated

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circles of their studia, especially in Paris. The objections raised by Celano in
1247 to this controversial new orientation have thus been brilliantly contextualized. Ardenna then concludes that while the behavior of these mendicants as
bishops was rarely distinguishable from other non-mendicant bishops (with the
exception of gathering friars to their courts to ensure the continued practice of
their religious life), in terms of unfolding an apostolic ministry beneficial to the
Church, they were merely fulfilling the apostolic intentions of their founders.
The first of the three regional studies on friar-bishops in Italy was entrusted
to Gian Maria Varanini, who examines the situation in the north. The author
states that the famous contention of Salimbene—that the friars were chosen as
bishops mainly because of family connections—requires closer scrutiny. Dividing his scrutiny into two periods (1250–1275 and 1275–1300) while leaving a
third virtually unexplored (1300–1325), Varanini notes two significant trends.
First, he affirms that direct papal intervention in the nomination and imposition
of mendicants (often from prominent noble families) to a variety of sees was
characteristic of the first period, beginning most notably with Innocent IV. Yet
he notes that with only a few exceptions most of these appointments were to
sees of lesser importance. This trend will change in the second period. Here,
the friars begin to ascend to bishoprics in the more prominent towns of northern Italy, but now they are drawn not from the great noble families of the area
but rather from the families at the top of the political life of the communes. As
native sons, such friars were perceived as having a better grasp of the contending issues at stake between rival families. Salimbene’s observation also has
merit in this period—but with an important nuance. Given the local nature of
these elections,the role of the papacy in supporting or opposing them thus had
to become more nuanced. The second paper, by Mauro Ronzani, explores the
situation in central Italy from the pontificate of Innocent IV through that of
John XXII. First, the author lists the various sees that received mendicant bishops during the pontificates of individual popes, noting a marked increase under
Boniface VIII,Clement V,and John XXII. Then,breaking down the individual dioceses, he shows that Umbria, the Marches, and Tuscany each had at least 50% of
its bishops as mendicants, Lazio being the notable exception. Nevertheless, in
spite of the seeming preponderance of friar-bishops in these dioceses, the author claims that in no diocese except Assisi was there any pattern of succession
by the mendicants to these sees. Rather, even in those places where the local
canonical chapters elected a friar, it was the preference and choice of the papacy that almost always determined the actual accession. He then demonstrates
this contention in the final section of his presentation by examining the situation in Lucca and Pisa—his particular area of expertise—in the early fourteenth
century. Turning to southern Italy, Giovanni Vitolo paints a picture that is in
some ways at variance with the northern and central regions. In terms of family origins, given the much slower development of communes in the south,
mendicant bishops were understandably drawn mostly from those noble families who held sway in these areas. Moreover, contrary to a popular assumption,
the evidence does not bear out the contention that the friars occupied primar-

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ily the poorer dioceses of the region; indeed, the evidence is considerably more
complex. But again, the overriding explanation for the presence of a given
mendicant in a particular diocese had more to do with the interests of the papacy and, to a lesser extent, of the Angevin sovereigns (especially when the two
converged), and the author gives a thorough assessment of those interests.
Given this orientation, it is not surprising that in the south friars were chosen
not so much on the basis of any pastoral experience but rather for an administrative skill already proven at the papal curia or local civil courts—a typical
steppingstone for aspiring friars. Indeed, the author asserts, most of the notable
pastoral work was carried on by their diocesan vicars. Thus he is not surprised
that the greatest bishops of these centuries were not men drawn from the mendicant family.
Three papers then treat the situation outside Italy. The first presentation, by
Franz Felten, deals with Germany across the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Starting with an exhaustive statistical analysis, the author confirms once
again that the pontificate of Innocent IV represented an unparalleled highpoint
in the appointment of mendicant bishops here but that they did not play a similarly political role for the papacy as they did in Italy. Such appointments also
differed from those in Italy by the fact that most of them were on the northeastern edges of the Empire and, therefore, had an explicitly missionary character. Here again it was the papacy—and not the local chapters—that was
responsible for their election, often in direct opposition to the hierarchy and local clergy. Nevertheless, the specific friars chosen for these sees often did have
close family connections to the local nobility or the courts of the ruling authorities. In fact, the author asserts, their being mendicants had very little to do
with their episcopal nomination. Something similar will occur likewise in the
French situation covered by Jacques Paul. After an exceptionally clear introduction that lays out the parameters of his discussion (geographically as well as
chronologically up to Boniface VIII), the author notes that in thirteenth-century
France, the promotion of mendicants to bishoprics was a fairly marginal fact.
Moreover, prior to 1260 (and different from the situation in Italy), the cathedral
chapters had managed to retain their prerogatives in the choice of their bishops. The preference of the canons for three friars in particular (Guy de la Tour,
Raymond du Fauga, and Eudes Rigaud) thus had little to do with papal pressure
and everything to do with the personal qualities and local family origins of
these men. The situation will change after 1260,however,as the papacy became
much more proactive in naming bishops. Paul then attempts to address
whether these friar-bishops were more intent on ecclesial reform than their
non-mendicant counterparts and whether they left a distinguishing mendicant
mark on their dioceses. Lacking extensive source materials, he is able to answer
his query only in the case of Eudes Rigaud whose pastoral work can be attributed more to his attempts to implement the reforms of Lateran IV than to any
specifically Franciscan orientation. As remarked by several authors, he concludes by noting that the duties of these friar-bishops often placed them in tension with their mendicant vocation, especially regarding poverty and the use of

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power. Finally, R. N. Swanson examines the British Isles: England, Scotland,
Wales, and Ireland. After sketching out the complex political situation in the
kingdom, the author paints a sophisticated picture of the different actors involved in episcopal appointments (local canonries, monastic chapters, regional
nobility, interests of kings and popes). An examination of these appointments,
however, yields no consistent pattern—as had been noticeable, for example, in
Italy. Moreover, most dioceses where friars were named bishop, with the exception of Canterbury, were of relatively minor significance. Furthermore, given
the lack of extant pastoral registers, one is left to conjecture on the reasons behind a particular appointment—always a perilous exercise. The only extensive
information comes from the incomplete Canterbury registers of John Pecham,
O.F.M. Of the relatively small number of mendicant bishops in the British Isles,
we know the most about this Franciscan and his predecessor, the Dominican
Robert Kilwardby. Although their elections may both have had something to do
with the theological controversies raging across the waters in Paris (both being
Augustinian rather than Aristotelian in orientation), their defense of papal prerogatives and their attempts to implement the pastoral reforms of the Fourth
Lateran Council and the Second of Lyons were certainly determinative factors.
Yet here again, even with fairly abundant documentation, one does not get a
clear sense of how they might have harmonized the tensions between their religious and episcopal vocations.
The final essay (prior to the concluding remarks by Cosimo Damiano Fonseca) is a stimulating paper by Diego Quaglioni. The author begins by noting
that the law of the Church had traditionally asserted a basic incompatibility between the monastic and episcopal professions on two grounds: first,that the latter would necessarily remove the monk from an obligation to observe his Rule
(and particularly from obedience to his abbot); and second, that the responsibilities of a bishop, endowed with a certain patrimony to provide for the faithful, rendered the observance of monastic poverty difficult if not impractical. It
was the twelfth-century monk Gratian, however, who marginalized these texts,
claiming that religious profession was not incompatible as long as the monk
had received permission from his abbot. In the wake of Lateran IV with its
strong emphasis upon pastoral ministry, the Decretalists (represented especially by Johannes Teutonicus) now fully justified the accession of religious to
episcopates since the ecclesial work of bishops represented a “greater good
than religious life.” But a contrary position will be sketched out in the late
1240’s by Hostiensis—seemingly in direct opposition to the increasing insertion of the friars into the cura animarum by the papacy. The two professions
of friar and bishop, he asserted, were not only incompatible but illegitimate. Interestingly,a contemporary canonist,Sinibaldo Fieschi,supported the arguments
of the Decretalists, neatly resolving all contradictions between observance of a
religious rule and episcopal service by insisting on the supreme value of the
care of souls. This canonist was none other than Innocent IV. Starting from the
notion of publica utilitas, Sinibaldo/Innocent asserts not only the supremacy
of the active over the contemplative life, but also the possibility of the pope,

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through his plenitudo potestatis, dispensing from the vows of poverty and obedience (even chastity in the most extreme cases) when the salvation of souls
was at stake. The vying of these two positions in the 1240’s provides illuminating background to the controversy between the mendicants and seculars at the
University of Paris shortly thereafter. Finally, it is Thomas Aquinas who provides
a response to both streams of incompatibility, asserting that a religious who ascends to the episcopacy is neither absolved from but no longer bound to observe his rule; and that since the ecclesial role of perfectores (bishops and
priests) has a higher rank than that of the perfecti (religious and laity), those
who ascend to the duties of the higher are no longer bound to observe the
obligations of the lower. In such manner was Thomas able to resolve the vocational tensions between fratres and praelati. Others in the mendicant family,
Thomas of Celano for example, would not have agreed.
Overall this collection of essays is a highly valuable contribution to the issue
of the involvement of the friars in episcopal service. It is most illuminating in
highlighting the quandary faced by both Orders that the call to serve as bishops
was seen as contradicting their profession of humility (or, in the case of the
Franciscans, their social minoritas); the role of the papacy in promoting their
election and in using them as instruments of papal policy; the surprising nomination of certain friars by local canonries; and the importance of local family
connections in such processes. The various charts and lists are likewise invaluable tools to be used for later consultation and research. What is often missing,
however, is a fuller picture of the actual pastoral accomplishments of most of
these friars. When one looks at the extensive roster of names, one can only
wonder: who are these men? why would they have been chosen? what might
have been their standing within their respective Orders? what might have been
their noteworthy talents that would have merited them such notice and promotion? Indeed, many of these figures are virtual unknowns in the general histories of their Orders. This fact leads to two comments. On the one hand, it
seems evident that more research on these figures must be done on the local
level (that is, on the level of the individual dioceses where they served and perhaps on their places of origin) in order to get a better sense of why such men
would have been tapped for these positions and what accomplishments might
have been theirs? On the other hand, might not their very anonymity in the histories of their Orders also be a datum confirming that many of these friars, to
use Rigon’s phrase, were vescovi-frati rather than frati-vescovi and that their
very invisibility in these histories might be a testimony to their lack of involvement in the burning questions about the identity of their vocation? On a similar note,a more thorough exploration of the continued opposition at the end of
the thirteenth and into the early fourteenth century (certainly among the Friars
Minor, most notably the Spirituals) to the involvement of the friars in the episcopacy would have added a fuller dimension to the quandary raised in the
1230’s and 1240’s. These are questions worth exploring further.
Ranging as it does across two centuries, several different countries, and the
varied policies of numerous pontificates, the volume inevitably suffers from a

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certain lack of cohesion and synthetic vision. In addition, there are several lacunae in the treatment as no mention is made of the areas of the Spanish kingdoms nor of the Holy Land and little is said of Eastern Europe. One might also
mention a few infelicities such as the incorrect citation of the critical pericope
of Celano (on p. 45, but listed correctly in the footnote); the false attribution of
“minister (rather than master) general” for the head of the Dominican Order by
Andenna; and the use by Swanson of “pontificates” (rather than “episcopates”)
to refer to the terms of the friar-bishops—a usage acceptable only in the most
extended sense of the term. However, these are minor points in an otherwise
major work of scholarship. One can only hope that others will use it not as the
final word but as an excellent point of departure for further study on such a deserving subject.
MICHAEL F. CUSATO, O.F.M.
The Franciscan Institute
St. Bonaventure University

Diplomatarium of the Crusader Kingdom of Valencia: The Registered Charters of its Conqueror, Jaume I, 1257–1276, Volume III (Documents
501–1000): Transition in Crusader Valencia: Years of Triumph, Years of
War, 1264–1270. Edited by Robert I. Burns, S.J. (Princeton: Princeton University Press. 2001. Pp. xi, 578. $69.50.)
This volume represents a singular segment of a larger and immensely valuable project to recapitulate in Latin and English charters from twenty-four royal
registers that relate to the Kingdom of Valencia—twenty to thirty percent of
the total—during the final twenty years of the reign of the Arago-Catalan
monarch, Jaume the Conqueror. The first volume (1985) of this work provides
an introduction to the reign and the archives and technical information necessary for interpreting the primary data. A second volume (1991) gives us 500
charters redacted between 1257 and 1263; the current volume, the third, continues with another 500 drawn from the years 1264–1270. Subsequent volumes
promise another 2,000 charters written before the Conqueror’s death in 1276
as well as a bibliography and an index.
The editor, the Reverend Robert I. Burns, S.J., acknowledges no organizing
principle in the current volume beyond chronology, but does provide some
context for the documents. These were the years of the Mudejar rebellions in
Valencia and Murcia, the king’s abortive crusade to Palestine, and continued
tumult in the royal household. In an introduction Burns sketches several
themes—or as he puts it, defines the several kinds of “space” in which Christian
colonizers lived—that inform the myriad of often humdrum details characteristic of this documentation: political and ecclesiastical structures, the royal entourage, criminal activity, taxation, economic life, war and rebellion, Muslims
and Jews, as well as women acting as queens, concubines, nuns, prostitutes, and

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widows. For the most part, this is grist for the serious researcher, the raw material out of which could be fashioned political, economic, and social history.
Even students doing more basic research on broader themes will find this collection useful for that nugget of detail that lends texture to broad narratives.
The appended map is useful despite its misspelling of Carcassonne and odd intermingling of French and Spanish versions of North African place-names.
In terms of organization, Burns transcribes the Latin text from the royal registers, a notable accomplishment in itself given the numerous paleographic and
linguistic challenges of this source; in addition, he gives an English-language
summary for each document. While such compendiums used to be commonplace in Spain, they are exceedingly rare in English and no one, other than
Burns, has had the experience and patience to take on this source, at once both
rich and difficult. Consequently, the Diplomatarium will serve well not only
students of Valencian and Iberian history but also those whose broader continental interests touch upon the inner workings of medieval monarchy, the
Church, and society. The absence of an index, however, limits the immediate
utility of this volume, and one wonders whether a print index in the terminal
volume will ever be able to mine the riches of this documentary collection in
an adequate fashion. While many of the current experiments with electronic
publication have fallen short of expectations, it seems to this reviewer that the
Diplomatarium is precisely the sort of work that would benefit the most from
this new medium and its enhanced search capabilities.
JAMES WILLIAM BRODMAN
University of Central Arkansas

Spiritual Economies: Female Monasticism in Later Medieval England. By
Nancy Bradley Warren. [The Middle Ages Series.] (Philadelphia: University
of Pennsylvania Press. 2001. Pp. xi, 276. $55.00.)
Medieval religious women—nuns, anchoresses, vowesses, and lay women
like Margery Kemp—have increasingly drawn the attention of a range of scholars. Jettisoning the long-standing, often negative views of medieval religious
women’s lives and influences, Constance Berman, Roberta Gilchrist, Sharon
Elkins, Penny Johnson, and Jocelyn Wogan-Browne, to name just a few, have reexamined evidence and reinterpreted literary sources to put religious women
back into the cultural, religious, and social contexts of the medieval world.
Into this revitalized world of scholarship comes Nancy Bradley Warren with
her book, Spiritual Economies, which is an analytical study of the “symbolic
and spiritual capital” of medieval religious women. This capital could allow
nuns to construct gendered and often oppositional identities within the monastic world, and anchoresses and lay women to construe empowered identities
which affected not only literary culture but also influenced some of the biggest
political campaigns of later medieval England.

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Does this study sound ambitious? It is, but by and large, Warren makes her
case. The issues she engages and the terms she employs throughout this study
to describe how the identities of nuns and their culture influenced the wider
world of religious women in England are set out in her examination of the spiritual and economic vitality of the Dominican convent of Dartford. When discussing the nuns of Dartford and their involvement in textual, political, and
material economies where their identities were mechanisms of exchange with
those around them, Warren is on firm practical grounds. She then proceeds to
more theoretical discussions of the identities available to nuns through profession rituals and monastic rules. She analyzes not only the Benedictine Rule, under which most houses of nuns in medieval England functioned, but also the
rules governing the houses of Poor Clares and Syon Abbey, the only Brigittine
monastery for nuns in England. Her critical reading of the vernacular translations of these rules shows that English versions of the Benedictine Rule were
less empowering for nuns than were the rules written for the Poor Clares and
Brigittine nuns.
Warren then builds on her survey of Dartford and her analyses of visitation
records, profession vows, and monastic rules to look at how the identities, images, and values contained therein influenced women’s lives outside the cloister. Engaging an impressive array of literary and royal documents, she shows
how female monastic identity influenced politics and later medieval religious
culture. Using Margery Kemp and Emma Roughton as examples of women who
marketed their “symbolic and spiritual capital” to influence those around them,
Warren also notes that religious women’s images and power could be doubleedged, working against them as well as in their favor. Her readings of several literary texts similarly note the multivalent and often contradictory ideas about
female spiritual identity that they contained. Especially interesting is her analysis of how both Edward IV and Henry V utilized female saints, such as St. Anne
and the Virgin Mary, and images of female sanctity to legitimize their claims to
the throne.
While medieval nuns may not have actually seen themselves as possessing
the kind of identity or wielding the kind of power Warren suggests, Spiritual
Economies is a most welcome addition to the study of religious women in later
medieval England. It offers a fresh perspective in which to view nuns, anchoresses, vowesses, and religious lay women, and hopefully will encourage
others to view female spirituality in the later Middle Ages in new ways.
MARILYN OLIVA
Fordham University

La città dei crucci: fazioni e clientele in uno stato repubblicano del ’4 0 0 . By
William J. Connell. (Florence: Nuova Toscana Editrice. 2000. Pp. x, 318. Lire
30,000.)

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In this excellent book, William Connell traces the experience of the city of
Pistoia as part of the Florentine dominion during the fifteenth century. He examines the political and social ties that bound the small Tuscan republic to its
larger patron and how, in particular, successive Florentine governments manipulated Pistoia’s deeply-rooted factions to extend their authority. Pistoia is an apt
case study, for its fate was always closely linked to that of Florence—a fact the
Florentines understood well. The book is both archivally and analytically sophisticated and constitutes an impressive addition to the growing literature on
the Florentine territorial state.
The book consists of seven chapters, dealing with events from roughly the
mid-fourteenth century, when Florence first took nominal control of Pistoia, until the Pistoiese civil war of 1499–1502. Connell lays the groundwork for his argument in the first chapter with an important reassessment of David Herlihy’s
demographic and economic interpretations regarding the town. Connell gently
corrects the great scholar’s assertions (and methodology) and argues persuasively that Pistoia’s “recovery” did not occur in the early fifteenth century—
concurrent with its decisive entry into the Florentine state—but in the middle
of the fifteenth century. The adjustment brings Pistoia more into line with other
Tuscan examples, notably Arezzo, Sansepolcro, and Prato, and allows Connell to
detach Pistoia’s recovery from an explicitly Florentine context. Connell also
shows that the Pistoiese patriciate in the initial years retained significant autonomy, as well as control over much of its agricultural resources.
Connell next addresses the important issue of Pistoiese factions. Pistoia was
legendary for the intensity and duration of its internal discords, which coalesced around two families, the Panciatichi and Cancellieri (even the American
president John Adams cited Pistoia as a fractious example to avoid). Connell offers a fascinating and original discussion of the structure and organization of
the factions. He traces their roots into the countryside and examines how they
perpetuated themselves through marriage and recruitment of young people.
Chapters three, four, five, six, and seven deal with the central theme of the
book: “clientism” and the manner in which Florence exercised its authority in
Pistoia. Connell argues that from the first Florentine political elites took careful
account of Pistoiese factions and, rather than suppress them, worked with
them. The rise to power of the Medici in Florence brought a more personal
arrangement, a greater emphasis on “friendship” apart from institutions.
Cosimo de’ Medici used his prestige to patronize both sides, as well as those independent of the major factions. The personal touch was extended by
Cosimo’s heirs, particularly Lorenzo the Magnificent, who often energetically
intervened in Pistoiese affairs. The discussion regarding Lorenzo is intriguing
methodologically for its use of the Medici carteggio in the Florentine archives
(Mediceo avanti il Principato). Connell’s presentation of the career of Mariano
da Pistoia, the so-called “creature” of the Medici, as an illustration of Lorenzo’s
methods of control is suggestive, but strikes the reader as a touch digressive.
Connell then traces changes in pattern of clientage brought on by the collapse

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of the Medici regime in 1494 and how these eventually led to the ruinous civil
war of 1499–1502.
The conclusions essentially restate the major themes of the book. Connell is
quite right when he says that his study is as much about Florence as it is about
Pistoia. In stimulating and often innovative ways, Connell succeeds in illuminating both the history of fifteenth-century Pistoia and the manner in which
Florence managed its territorial state.
WILLIAM CAFERRO
Vanderbilt University
Early Modern European
From Sacred Body to Angelic Soul: Understanding Mary in Late Medieval
and Early Modern Europe. By Donna Spivey Ellington. (Washington, D.C.:
The Catholic University of America Press. 2001. Pp. xi, 284. $59.95.)
It is generally acknowledged that the cult of the Virgin Mary came to full
flowering in Europe during the High Middle Ages and continued to flourish
through the Renaissance, despite the scathing critiques leveled against many aspects of medieval piety by sixteenth-century Humanists and Reformers alike.
Yet to affirm the constancy of Marian devotion is not therefore to imply that its
character remained unchanged through these different periods. In this study,
Donna Ellington brings to light some important distinctions in the way that the
Virgin Mary was portrayed prior to and after the Reformation. She convincingly
argues “that the Church’s portrait of the Virgin gradually changed during the
sixteenth century and became less focused on her body and more on her soul
as religious life in Western Europe was increasingly dominated by a piety that
stressed the inner life at the expense of the concrete and the material” (p. viii).
Ellington’s “window” into the world of Marian piety of the late medieval and
early modern periods is the popular sermon, primarily though not exclusively
the published sermons of mendicant friars who were known for promoting devotion to Mary among the masses. Some of the more prominent figures of her
study include for the medieval period Jean Gerson and the Franciscan St. Bernadine of Siena whereas St. Francis de Sales, St. Lawrence of Brindisi, and the Jesuit
saints Peter Canisius and Robert Bellarmine are the principal representatives of
the post-Tridentine period. The reader is thus given access to the Mariology of
some of the most influential churchmen of each period while also being introduced to less familiar preachers such as the Dominicans Gabriel Barletta and
Guillaume Pepin and Franciscans Michel Menot and Christopher Cheffontaines.
Perhaps one of the most basic distinctions to come out of Ellington’s research is that between the very “active” Virgin of the Middle Ages and the more
“quiet and passive” Virgin who emerges in the sixteenth century. The medieval
Mary was regarded as the most powerful of intercessors precisely because of
her physical relationship to Christ as mother. In one of the more fascinating

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parts of her study, Ellington throws new light on the intercessory role of the
Virgin by showing its relation to the doctrine of the Assumption. Not only was
the bodily Assumption of Mary into heaven a source of hope to medieval Christians for the salvation of their own bodies and souls, but it gave them the added
assurance that “her intercession would be heard, for she was bodily present in
heaven” (p. 103). Ellington points out that the Assumption captures the very incarnational approach to the sacred which characterized the Middle Ages. Bodily present in heaven,Mary’s power lay in her ability to speak directly to her Son
or even, as St. Bernadine of Siena put it, to arouse his pity by showing him the
bosom and breasts that had nursed him.
Such an emphasis on the physical relationship between mother and Son is in
stark contrast to the post-Reformation emphasis on Mary’s spiritual motherhood. Ellington interprets this new perspective as reflecting both the social and
religious pressures brought on by the Protestant Reformation as well as the
concerns of the Council of Trent to promote among the laity growth in virtue
and a more interiorized piety. Catholic sermons of this period thus focus on
Mary’s interior virtues: her humility, submission, and obedience to the will of
God. While all of her prerogatives such as her immaculate conception or her
perpetual virginity continue to be affirmed and defended at this time, the emphasis on her physical relationship to Christ and her intercessory power gives
place to her significance as a model of the virtuous life for all Christians.
While underscoring these important differences between the active medieval Virgin and the passive early modern Virgin, Ellington maintains a healthy
balance throughout her presentation by also indicating the many points of similarity. For example, she remarks that preachers of both periods sought to portray Mary prior to her conception of Jesus as a cloistered contemplative. These
threads of continuity lead Ellington to speak cautiously of “subtle alterations” in
how Mary was perceived and to affirm unhesitatingly that “when contrasting
historical periods, it is necessary to avoid exaggerating the degree of change
which took place” (p. 247).
It is in light of such balanced judgment evident throughout the study that I find
Ellington’s concluding paragraph to be both contradictory and enigmatic. Here
she insists that were a person of the fifteenth century to hear the Marian sermons
of a seventeenth-century preacher, it would be akin to meeting a relative whom
one has not seen for many years—“it would be necessary to become acquainted
all over again” (p. 263). Neither the sermons presented nor Ellington’s insightful
analyses support this overstatement of the differences. Fortunately, the exaggeration is limited to this one instance and is not a persistent flaw of the entire work.
In short,this enlightening study of Marian devotion helps us to understand better
both the continuity in belief and practice and the important changes in perspective that marked the transition from the medieval to the early modern world.
JOHN LANGLOIS, O.P.
Providence College

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The Confessionalization of Humanism in Reformation Germany. By Erika
Rummel. [Oxford Studies in Historical Theology.] (New York: Oxford University Press. 2000. Pp. vii, 211. $45.00.)
This book explores what happened to humanist scholars in the Germanspeaking lands of the Holy Roman Empire between about 1520 and 1550,as the
Reformation took hold. Professor Rummel argues first that the idea of humanism and Protestantism making common cause against scholastic obscurantism,
though based on a misunderstanding of fundamental differences between the
two movements, was nonetheless promoted by zealots on both sides, Catholics
hoping to tar humanist critics of the Church with the brush of heresy, and
Evangelicals hoping to win over as yet uncommitted admirers of Erasmus. Partisans of humanist ideas of reform, unable to accept dogmatism on either side,
withdrew into a dignified silence, or pretended conformism—the so-called
Nicodemite option. Meanwhile, although devout pedagogues claimed to carry
forward the humanist program of education, they in fact subordinated broad
ideals of Erasmus and Petrarch to narrow doctrinal and moral aims. Finally, the
idea of a peaceful accommodation between the rival doctrines, a natural outgrowth of the Christian skepticism that was inherent in the humanist tradition,
was drowned amid the din of increasingly strident theological battles.
Professor Rummel knows the humanist movement of the early sixteenth century as well as or better than anyone, and along the way she offers much interesting detail about forgotten scholars and controversies. Nonetheless, the main
arguments fall short. First, given the time limits, this cannot be a book about
“confessionalization,” since in 1550 the state-supported indoctrination that Reformation scholars describe under that heading was just getting under way. Instead, it is a book about how the liberal intellectual outlook of humanist
pedagogy was shunted aside by rival dogmatisms. But one cannot make such a
case without taking into account that schools are institutions. A Christoph von
Hegendorf will indeed seem narrow-minded if his treatises are compared with
those of Petrarch or Erasmus, neither of whom ever stood before a room full of
the unruly sons of pious burghers. But if one compares him with a German
school-humanist of the pre-Reformation generation, like Heinrich Bebel, this
Lutheran pedagogue’s views will seem more like a reasonable accommodation
of Erasmian ideals to the social reality of a large town school.
Second, to lament what might have been “had confessionalization not circumvented the progress of humanism” (p. 151) is historically naive. Religious
pluralism came to be accepted in Europe because the contending parties
learned in the only way possible, through bitter experience, that ‘false’ forms of
Christianity were not to be rooted out, not even by fire and sword. To this outcome, the wise warnings of an Erasmus or a Castellio about the dangers of dogmatism mattered less than the sermons of fanatical preachers who on all sides
stoked the flames of wars that would end by bringing religious peace; for such
is the circuitous logic of history.

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Third, the book traces in the writings of Erasmus, Cornelis Agrippa von
Nettesheim,and Sebastien Castellio an irenic tradition of “Christian skepticism.”
But this interesting idea remains at the level of an observation, because, owing
to the author’s self-imposed geographical and chronological limits, she does
not engage with the larger literature on irenicism and skepticism, much
of which deals with Italy, or with France in the second half of the sixteenth
century (e.g., Silvana Seidel Menchi, Erasmo in Italia, 1520–1580; and
Mario Turchetti, Concordia o Tolleranza? François Bauduin (1520–1573) e i
“Moyenneurs”).
Like many good scholars, Professor Rummel is suspicious of subjective interpretations: “It has been my aim . . . to document rather than evaluate sixteenthcentury opinions” (p. 5). But those who know an area particularly well are the
angels that ought to tread the slippery ground of interpretation, lest fools rush
in. I for one hope that in her next book Professor Rummel will allow herself to
be more subjective, giving us her considered opinions on the big and difficult
questions relating to the humanist movement.
JAMES D.TRACY
University of Minnesota

Reginald Pole: Prince and Prophet. By Thomas F. Mayer. (New York: Cambridge
University Press. 2000. Pp. xv, 468. $74.95.)
Cardinal Pole in European Context: A via media in the Reformation. By
Thomas F. Mayer. [Variorum Collected Studies Series: CS686.] (Burlington,
Vermont: Ashgate Publishing Co. 2000. Pp. xii, 334. $105.95.)
A Reluctant Author: Cardinal Pole and His Manuscripts. By Thomas F. Mayer.
[Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, Volume 89, Pt. 4.]
(Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society. 1999. Pp. viii, 115. $15.00
paperback.)
Thomas Mayer has spent the better part of twenty-five years studying Reginald Pole, and it shows. Beyond the works listed above, Mayer has more on the
way, namely, a four-volume calendar of Pole’s correspondence. But the books
here reviewed themselves constitute an enormous contribution to early modern European history and to a re-thinking of the traditional understanding of
Pole,a central figure in the story of the Reformation both in Italy and in England.
Surely the greatest attention given to these new books will be focused on
Mayer’s biography of Pole. Such is only fair: Mayer’s work will be considered the
standard on this English cardinal for many years to come. There is too much in
this fat tome to adequately analyze in a brief review, however. Mayer based this
biography on vast archival research in Italy and in the United Kingdom. He attempted to do what Paolo Simoncelli (in his Il caso Reginald Pole: Eresia e santità nelle polemiche religiose del Cinquecento [Rome: Edizioni di storia e
letteratura, 1977]) said could not be done: to describe the historical Pole sepa-

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rate from the myth of sanctity that has been woven around him. In my opinion,
Mayer has succeeded. To begin with, he found that the problem was larger than
Simoncelli suggested, since before a myth was woven by his followers and later
historians, Pole consciously fashioned a self-image through his own writings.
Mayer presents Pole in this study as a man who operated amid considerable
tension. For Mayer, Pole was uncomfortably suspended between notions of authority and was personally not much inclined to the obedience he recommended to others. Mayer goes so far as to assert that his subject faced a
permanent internal tension between personal ambition and a desire for selfabnegation. Because of these tensions, Pole fashioned two images of himself: as
prince and prophet.
Mayer found that the legend of Pole, the one for which both he and his followers were responsible, differed substantially from the historical record.
Mayer uses the old term spirituali to refer to Pole and his followers, but argues
that the term “reform tendency” is better. While Pole was a central figure in
whatever one might call this group, however, he also played a substantial role in
its disintegration. Mayer has showed that Pole’s oft-noted closeness to Gasparo
Contarini, Gregorio Cortese, Alvise Priuli, and Giovanni Morone is irrefutable,
but also that Pole often ignored their advice. Mayer found that Pole, when addressing clerics as a bishop and legate, emphasized obedience to superiors—
like himself—and laid down the law for them. He even discouraged excessive
reading and study of the Scriptures. These are attitudes we associate not with
him and his circle, but rather with Gian Pietro Carafa and the more “intransigent” of reformers.
Indeed, Mayer has persuasively demonstrated that Pole’s relationship with
Carafa was far more complex than has commonly been thought. The historical
record just will not allow regurgitation of the simple confrontational relationship so often presented.Yet such a relationship is closely linked with the myth
of Pole’s sanctity. To call the relationship between Pole and Carafa on again/off
again is putting the case mildly. Pole and his group surely had a high opinion of
Carafa in the mid-1530’s. But Carafa just as surely played a role in the English
cardinal’s failure to be elected pope at the end of 1549, after Pole came within
one or two votes of the chair of Peter. After Pole’s three encounters with Roman inquisitors in 1553, Carafa apparently became convinced that the English
cardinal was the best person to succeed Julius III. As Pope Paul IV, Carafa made
Pole legate to England, but came to distrust him and recalled him. By the end of
Pole’s life, Paul IV, his protégé Michele Ghislieri, and other inquisitors were in
rather hot pursuit of the cardinal, of course. But even as late as 1556, Mayer argues, Paul was not altogether sure what to do with him.
As if all these differences between historical realities and the myth of Pole
were not enough, Mayer saves the biggest shock for the very end. In the conclusion to this biography he explains his conviction that Pole was a homosexual. The argument seems to me most difficult to make. Mayer must, of necessity,
rely on tangential and circumstantial evidence. He found evidence in a portrait

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of Pole by Sebastiano del Piombo and in letters, one by Pole to Morone, and another by Vittoria Colona to Morone. The latter was about Priuli, with whom
Pole lived for some twenty years and who Mayer says was “certainly homosexual” (p. 443). Mayer utilized Leonard Barkan’s work on the connections between homoeroticism and humanism (Transuming Passion: Ganymede and
the Erotics of Humanism [Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1991]) to suggest the intellectual possibility of Pole’s homosexuality, and John Boswell’s famous 1995 study (Same-sex Unions in Premodern Europe [New York: Vintage
Books]) to assert that Pole and Priuli were married. Nearly every substantive assertion Mayer makes in this section seems to be heavily circumscribed. He
properly, in my opinion, agrees with the point made by Barkan and others that
no modern understanding of homosexuality existed in the sixteenth century,
but still goes ahead and identifies Pole as homosexual. Mayer explains that Pole
and Priuli were married and that it seems they both “shared pederastic inclinations” (p. 446),but Mayer also indicates that he could say nothing specific about
their sexuality. The evidence that exists, he maintains, puts Pole in a “passive
role,” but “in terms of concept, not practice” (p. 447). No matter what one
thinks of the validity of the case presented, if true, it is a matter of considerable
importance to Mayer’s overall argument. If the evidence is sufficient, then the
point probably should have been clearly identified early on and utilized
throughout, for Pole’s homosexuality would be of considerable relevance in reviewing the content of the friendships emphasized in this biography. Pole’s
bending of gender rules certainly would be consistent, as Mayer points out,
with his bending of rules in other contexts described in the study. Pole’s homosexuality also might provide another part of the explanation for why Gian
Pietro Carafa, who decidedly wavered on the matter of whether or not the English cardinal was a doctrinal heretic, went after him with such vehemence at
the end.
The Ashgate volume, Cardinal Pole in European Context, gathers essays
Mayer published over more than fifteen years, beginning in 1984. These pieces
were scattered in publications from Italy and the United Kingdom to the United
States,but specialists in early modern religious history will have encountered almost all of them before. An article that first appeared in Italian is here in a revised and translated version. One essay, entitled “Cardinal Pole’s Finances: The
Property of a Reformer,” appears in print for the first time. In this final essay in
the volume,Mayer vividly describes the enormous financial resources at the disposal of a cardinal always referred to as one of the “poorer” ones. Pole viewed
the Church, Mayer asserts, as a form of patrimonial property, in a manner consistent with the Italian cardinals studied by Barbara McClung Hallman. Mayer
noted one enormous difference between Pole and the majority of cardinals
Hallman studied, however: Pole declined to alienate, to the benefit of lay persons, the ecclesiastical property he held at the time of his death. This qualification, which establishes Pole’s commitment to a new, Counter-Reformation
standard for prelatic behavior, led me to wonder why Mayer asserts so firmly

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that the English cardinal should be seen as consistent with Hallman’s interpretation.
This collection of essays and the catalog of manuscripts contained in Mayer’s
A Reluctant Author may be considered by many as sidelights to the larger biography, but they are important in their own right. Mayer himself rightly refers
to the Ashgate collection as a supplement to the bigger study. In these essays,
he develops points that are only alluded to in the biography, but they surely
serve to reinforce his central arguments on Pole’s self-fashioning and on his
contribution to the invention of the Counter-Reformation. The essays also provide additional ways for readers to contemplate Mayer’s attempt to unravel the
myth of Pole’s sanctity in the interest of understanding his full humanity. A Reluctant Author contains a pithy overview of the life of Pole, plus fascinating details on the circumstances of the collection of Pole’s writings in Rome, details
omitted in the larger biography. Unanswered—and unanswerable even after use
of the now accessible archives of the Holy Office—is the question of what role
the Roman Inquisition may have played in numbering Pole’s works in the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana. Mayer’s paleographical and codicological catalog
will be an indispensable guide for anyone who hopes to study Pole’s writing in
the future.
Mayer’s work on Pole has forever changed the way this English prelate can be
viewed by students of early-modern Europe. Mayer has accomplished what Simoncelli feared might never be done, and he has done it well.
WILLIAM V. HUDON
Bloomsburg University

Straightening the Altars: The Ecclesiastical Vision and Pastoral Achievements
of the Progressive Bishops under Elizabeth I, 1559–1579. By Scott A.
Wenig. [Studies in Church History, Volume 10.] (Bern and New York: Peter
Lang Publishing. 2000. Pp. xiv, 290. $61.95.)
This ought to be an important book. It deals with a significant and underresearched topic, the attempt to impose Protestantism upon England by the
first generation of Elizabethan bishops. It focuses on four of the most interesting, well-recorded, and energetic of English Protestant leaders, Richard Cox,
John Jewel, James Pilkington, and Edwin Sandys. It considers some of the most
controversial questions in current Reformation historiography: the direction,
speed, and effectiveness of religious change in England. And it is crisply written
and clearly organized. But it is a disappointment—derivative, under-researched,
repetitious, and unsophisticated. Half the book retells the familiar stories of ecclesiastical legislation,relations between the queen and her bishops,and the beginnings of puritan protest—adding nothing, and missing some of the recent

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contributions. The rest tries to show Reformation in action. Dr. Wenig has had
a reasonable shot at the correspondence of his four bishops,but for three of the
dioceses studied (Durham, Salisbury, and Worcester) his main source is microfilm of the bishop’s register—recording only clergy ordinations and institutions. Much of his material is culled from Victoria County Histories, standard
diocesan and county histories, and Dictionary of National Biography entries.
In his account of the diocese of Salisbury, for example, an important visitation
is summarized from the VCH; churchwardens’ accounts are quoted from a popular history of lay religion; and an account from the single parish of Mere is said
to show ‘widespread’ iconoclasm in the diocese. Only for Richard Cox’s Ely has
the consistory and visitation material been analyzed, and even there some of
the references are taken second-hand from Felicity Heal’s thesis. There is a brief
account of Cox’s dealings with the Family of Love, apparently written in ignorance of Christopher Marsh’s definitive 1994 book on the subject. Scott Wenig’s
conclusions seem sensible enough: that Pilkington and Sandys had little success
against entrenched conservatism, that Jewel contained Catholicism but was unable to advance Protestantism, and that Cox made more advance in an easier
diocese—though he tries to make more of Cox’s success than such an a-typical
diocese can bear. But his assessments are based on limited evidence, and are no
more than one would have guessed. Wenig has certainly defined a crucial topic
for research. It is still there: not quite virginal, but hardly touched.
CHRISTOPHER HAIGH
Christ Church, University of Oxford

Under the Molehill: An Elizabethan Spy Story. By John Bossy. (New Haven:Yale
University Press. 2001. Pp. xiii, 189. $25.00 hardback.)
“In 1956, he [Leo Hicks, S.J.] found a student looking for a research topic,
who proved willing to investigate the larger subject [relations between France
and English Catholics] . . .” (p. 19). Father Hicks may have initially ignited Professor Bossy’s interest in the field, but the disciple subsequently embarked on a
different interpretation. Bossy’s controversial investigation of Robert Parsons or
Persons (“The Heart of Robert Persons” in The Reckoned Expense, ed. Thomas
M. McCoog,S.J. [Woodbridge,1996]) with its suggestion that the Jesuit knew of,
and possibly encouraged, plots to assassinate Elizabeth would have scandalized
Father Hicks. Unlike his Jesuit mentor, Bossy considers the plots and conspiracies that plagued Elizabethan England in the 1580’s as serious threats and not
simply “dirty tricks” by the government to destroy Catholicism (p. 18). However, Hicks and Bossy do seem to agree that support for the French marriage
“was generally incompatible with recusancy and an admiration for Jesuits” (p.
85), a position that I find untenable because so many English Catholic nobles
who favored the alliance also sponsored the Jesuit mission (see my “The English
Jesuit Mission and the French Match, 1579–1581,” Catholic Historical Review,
87 [April, 2001], 185–213).

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Bossy’s previous monograph, Giordano Bruno and the Embassy Affair
(New Haven, 1991), won the Wolfson History Prize and the Gold Dagger Award
for Non-Fiction from the Crime Writers’ Association, most likely an unprecedented double recognition. In his new monograph Bossy returns to the same
world, the French Embassy at Salisbury Court, London, a dark, shadow-filled
world populated with characters more frequently encountered in the novels of
John Le Carré and film noir than in historical monographs.
Recently historians have noted the significance of the collapse of the proposed marital treaty between France and England in the early 1580’s. Without
France, Elizabeth faced the resurgent Catholicism of Spain and the Papacy
alone. Politically there was realignment at court as courtiers and politicians,
conscious of the issue of succession, formed new alliances and coalitions. Sir
Francis Walsingham kept his eye on many whose allegiance was doubted. Some
Catholic supporters of the marriage, now convinced that no remedy for their
plight was possible as long as Elizabeth reigned, turned their attention to her legitimate, imprisoned heir, Mary, Queen of Scots. Unsure of France’s role in intrigues between Spain, the Guises, and Scotland vis-à-vis an invasion aimed at
Elizabeth’s overthrow and the re-establishment of Catholicism with her cousin
Mary on the throne, Walsingham sought an informant within the French embassy. Sometime in the spring of 1583, he obtained the services of a mole. With
the information obtained,Walsingham exposed the Throckmorton Plot and preserved England “from an invasion, and possibly from a civil war” (p. 149).
Equally important, any chance that Elizabeth and Mary would reach an accommodation vanished.
Through a labyrinth of aliases, cryptic messages, and red herrings, Professor
Bossy established the identity of the mole: Claude de Courcelles, secretary of
the French ambassador Michel de Castelnau and, ironically, a zealous Catholic.
The argument of Under the Molehill, like its predecessor, is not easy to follow.
Through the analysis of handwriting, circumstance, allusion, and coded language, Bossy constructs his case. He may not convince every reader. Regardless
of whether one accepts the conclusion, Professor Bossy has performed an important service for Elizabethan diplomatic and religious history. Once we accept the reality of plots, then we must ask how the government discovered
them. Who were the leaks and the moles? Apparently the Elizabethan government was not as dependent on renegade Catholics as confessional historiography reported. Perhaps we need to rehabilitate some traditional villains such as
Charles Paget, onetime associate but later opponent of Parsons, whom the Jesuit blamed for the failure of the invasion schemes. Professor Bossy has opened
up the dark Elizabethan underworld of spies and agents to the light of historical scrutiny. Our exploration of that world could result in astonishing insights
into the importance of some of the pawns in A Game at Chess then being
played.
THOMAS M. MCCOOG, S.J.
Jesuit Historical Institute, Rome

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Parish Communities and Religious Conflict in the Vale of Gloucester,
1590–1690. By Daniel C. Beaver. [Harvard Historical Studies, Vol. 129.]
(Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. 1998. Pp. xiii, 462.
$49.50.)
In the controversies surrounding the historical debate about the Reformation in England, one note of consensus does seem to have emerged: the Reformation took a long time. Gone are the days when one could wind up a study
with the Elizabethan Settlement in 1559. The foundation of the Elizabethan
regime, providing unprecedented stability by comparison with the reigns of
the queen’s half-siblings, gave the cause of reform the opportunity to become
“the establishment.” In 1559, one could say, the Reformation was just getting off
the ground.
Hence the importance of the time frame investigated in this imaginative and
ambitious work. Professor Beaver’s book is an important scholarly contribution
for a number of reasons. First, he has chosen to push across conventional periodization,giving us a rare study of religion across the troubled seventeenth century: a century which saw a Jacobean consensus, a Laudian counter-revolution,
civil war and religious tolerance for selected groups (though not for “Popery or
Prelacy” as the Instrument of Government of 1653 put it), and finally the return of the established church but also the eventual legitimization of “dissent.”
In short, it was a century which saw the abandonment by almost all Christians
of the ideal of a single national church to which everyone belonged and conformed. This ideal was replaced by an established church enjoying certain privileges but also by an acceptance of religious pluralism, however grudging and
ungracious that acceptance was by the Anglican authorities.
Professor Beaver has used a well-known approach,the local study,to do this—
in his case the Vale of Gloucester in the west of England. However, his book
stands out as one of the best local studies produced in quite a while in locating
his meticulous use of difficult source material in terms of larger historical debates. His use of interpretive tools from anthropology are skillfully deployed
and his prose, though occasionally dense, is often eloquent.
One of his most interesting discussions is of death and funeral practices in
the period 1590–1690. We might expect from work such as Eamon Duffy’s
Stripping of the Altars (1992) to find communities indifferent to the fate of the
deceased and the ceremonies which accompany their passing. However,Beaver
reconstructs a complex and fascinating world from wills, sermons, and other
sources, of local people who took immense care over properly conducted funerals both in terms of instructions left and care of others. As well as the Prayer
Book church service, this also included customs such as bell ringing, requests
for particular individuals to accompany the corpse to the grave, and the generous provision of food and drink for neighbors and family “to make merry
withal” afterwards (pp. 96–98). In a religious world that has been characterized
by revisionist historians of the Reformation as indifferent to the dead, partners

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still requested, as in the case of one Robert Shatterthayte, burial in the churchyard “near unto my last wife” (p. 101).
In a sense, one could say that the greatest discontinuity with the medieval
past came in the late seventeenth century when the “advocates of further reformation rejected [the] link between religious fellowship and territorial conceptions of space” (p. 324)—a disjunction which fatally undermined the
parochial religious system in England. “Belonging” was now about likemindedness and agency—not the accident (or rather the “providence”) of birth
and place. Professor Beaver’s fine study provides much insight into this transition.
JUDITH MALTBY
Corpus Christi College, Oxford

The Boxmaker’s Revenge: “Orthodoxy,” “Heterodoxy” and the Politics of the
Parish in Early Stuart London. By Peter Lake. (Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. 2001. Pp. x, 422. $65.00 cloth; $24.95 paperback.)
Peter Lake’s latest excursion into the world of late Elizabethan/early Stuart
Puritanism opens with high drama with a Paul’s Cross sermon preached on February 11, 1627, by Stephen Denison, minister of the London parish of St Katherine Creechurch. Throughout the sermon John Etherington, a maker of water
conduits and former boxmaker, was forced to stand in front of the pulpit as
Denison denounced him as a heretic, a familist, and an anabaptist. Lake takes
this scene as a starting point for an examination and explanation of the religious, social, and political contexts in which such a confrontation could occur,
and, in the course of his analysis, he is able to provide glimpses of a previously
hidden godly underground in London. This book confirms Lake’s reputation as
the historian best equipped to dissect, probe, and understand early Stuart Puritans and Puritanism.
Much of this territory is already familiar to us from Lake’s previous published
works and no more so than in the case of Stephen Denison, a model ‘moderate’
Puritan. Thus Denison possessed a heavily predestinarian view of the world, a
strongly activist commitment to the community of true believers, a vision of
the Christian community divided between the godly and the ungodly, a dogmatic insistence that preaching was the means of grace, and a belief in a strict
Sabbath. Lake takes the opportunity to remind readers of his earlier attacks on
the negative views of the godly entertained by some recent historians. Denison
could adopt a form of pulpit rhetoric that was inclusive and potentially ‘popular’ in style. Furthermore, those historians who have stressed the ‘conservatism’
and respectability of Puritan social attitudes are presented with a Denison who
could make some very pointed criticisms of the rich and powerful and was to
engage in open conflict with some of the parish elite who constituted the select vestry in St Katherine’s.

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Etherington is a less familiar and, in many ways, more interesting figure as a
bold and articulate layman who dared to trespass into the domain of educated
clergy. Lake skillfully uses Etherington’s spiritual quest from the 1590’s to the
1640’s to shed light on an otherwise hidden underworld of London Puritanism.
This was a world open to the influence of familists and of sect-masters like
Etherington’s early mentor,T. L., whose identity can only be guessed at. It was a
world of debate between all sorts of radical sectaries, separatists, familists, and
lay Puritans. The younger Etherington had been, at the very least, strongly influenced by familist thought; yet in 1623 and 1645 he was to launch attacks on
familism. Probably at no stage was he a member of a separatist church, despite
Denison’s claims, although he did have strong views on the power of the godly
to damn their assailants and seems to have had little regard for any form of
purely clerical authority. The book finishes with the impact of Laudianism on
the parish of St Katherine’s and a fascinating account of the tensions which it
exposed in an already divided parish.
The narrative and analysis occupies over 400 pages,and there are times when
it is very heavy going even though the insight gained repays the effort. Firstly,
the structure of the book calls for comment;it is unnecessarily complicated and
somewhat disjointed. Secondly, only a readership which is informed and highlycommitted will find the text easy to grasp. Some of the theology is, perhaps understandably, heavy going, but comprehension is not helped by an excessive
use of quotations and the occasional tendency toward the verbose. A lot of
knowledge is taken for granted,and the uninitiated will probably lose their way.
However, this is an important book which richly repays the effort.
KEITH LINDLEY
University of Ulster

Fear and Polemic in Seventeenth-Century England: Richard Baxter and Antinomianism. By Tim Cooper. (Burlington, Vermont: Ashgate Publishing
Company. 2001. Pp. ix, 238. $79.95.)
One can learn a great deal about the complex religious and political issues
that convulsed seventeenth-century England by focusing on the prolific preacher
and controversialist, Richard Baxter. Born in 1615, Richard Baxter was an important public figure from his early middle-age years as a chaplain in the New
Model Army until his death at age 76 shortly after the Glorious Revolution. A
man of some political significance during the Interregnum, as a Nonconformist
he was largely excluded from public life after the Restoration. This exclusion
led him to concentrate on writing. By his death he had published more than ten
million words in almost 150 books, most of which appear to have been read by
the author of this interesting monograph and “a prominent portion” of which
were “dedicated to destroying Antinomianism” (p. 2). Tim Cooper’s book, a revision of his Ph. D. dissertation, is not quite as narrowly focused as might be in-

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ferred from the title. While it is essentially a study of Richard Baxter’s interminable intellectual battles with his Antinomian adversaries during and after
the English Civil War, it uses that narrow conflict to draw broader conclusions
about contemporary English society and religion.
The purpose of the book is “to consider why it was that Baxter so vehemently opposed the Antinomians” (p. 2). While the basic question is simple, the
author’s answer is not, and in his careful exploration of the problem Cooper
makes three fundamental points. First, he argues that Baxter’s vigorous and frequent attacks on the Antinomians were animated by “the contentious inclinations of his own nature” (p. 50), in which his stated desire to be a “peace-loving
man” (p. 49) was constantly undermined by the passionate ferocity with which
he sought truth and attacked his opponents. Secondly, he argues that the extreme exaggerations that Baxter used to characterize and lambaste Antinomians
were a characteristic polemical feature of the way contemporary controversialists engaged in argument. “In essence,” writes Cooper, “deliberately or otherwise, Baxter made [the Antinomians] out to be far more dangerous than they
actually were” (p. 60). Antinomianism was not, he asserts, the theological position of a handful of fringe-dwellers clinging to the edge of a world turned upside down, but in fact it had a respectable theological lineage. Antinomian
views lay at the heart of English Protestantism and were “much more significant, more mainstream and [a] more conservative part of English life than has
been previously supposed” (p. 197).
Finally, and here Cooper’s argument builds on the work of his countryman, J.
C. Davis, and of Leo Solt, he argues that by constructing what amounted to a
parody of the real theological positions of his adversaries, Baxter was inventing
a sect where none really existed and this exercise in fantasy reflected the fears
and anxieties of himself and of many of his contemporaries. This latter kind of
analysis, explaining the apparent existence of extreme political or religious
points of view by reference to contemporary fears and anxieties is plausible
and attractive. However, on reflection, one wonders just how much explanatory value words like “fear” and “anxiety” have without a great deal more analysis than they receive here. That said, this is a good book that adds value to our
understanding of a major figure in the religious and political history of
seventeenth-century England.
MICHAEL G. FINLAYSON
University of Toronto

The World of Geoffrey Keating: History, Myth and Religion in SeventeenthCentury Ireland. By Bernadette Cunningham. (Dublin: Four Courts Press.
Distributed in the United States by ISBS, Portland, Oregon. 2000. Pp. xv,
263. $55.00.)

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In his Hibernia Anglicana, a riposte to Geoffrey Keating’s Foras feasa ar
Éirinn, Sir Richard Cox, an Irish Protestant, lamented,“At this day we know no
difference of nation [in Ireland] but what is expressed by papist and Protestant.” Objecting strenuously to Keating’s identification of Irishness with Catholicism, Cox presented his own narrative of Irish history from a New English
perspective.
That Cox and other writers of the late seventeenth century responded so vigorously to Keating’s fashioning of Irish identity is a measure of the way in
which the Tipperary priest’s work had impinged on the national psyche, even
in manuscript circulation. Dr. Bernadette Cunningham’s careful recreation of
the world of Geoffrey Keating shows him to have been a product of the hybrid
culture of late Tudor Ireland and the ardent spirituality of Counter-Reformation
France. Although focusing principally on his major historical work, Foras feasa,
Dr. Cunningham also adduces Keating’s spiritual and poetic writings to show
convincingly how history, myth, and religion were fused in his œuvre to create
an integrated version of what it meant to be Irish and Catholic in a period of
rapid change.
Keating’s two devotional tracts,one on the Mass and the other on death,drew
heavily on his experience both of medieval Gaelic spirituality and a formal seminary training at Bordeaux. To accomplish his Catholic ministry in Tipperary, he
wrote in colloquial yet elegant Irish. A tribute to his successful pastorate is
the extant monument erected by his parishioners to his memory in Tubbrid,
County Tipperary, in 1644.
The central part of this book contains a thorough analysis of Foras feasa ar
Éirinn, a narrative of Irish history from the earliest settlement to the establishment of the Anglo-Normans. After a systematic investigation of the sources
upon which Keating drew, Dr. Cunningham highlights the ideological framework within which the work was composed. By castigating in his famous
preface the denigrators of Ireland, Keating staked out the ground for his presentation of the history of an Irish Catholic nation, entailing the Christianization of the country by St. Patrick and the absorption of Keating’s
Anglo-Norman ancestors. The contemporary race of ‘Éireannaigh’ (his neologism for the fused Gaelic and old English nationality) was roused to a consciousness of its heritage through the unveiling of its heroic past and its
steadfast loyalty to Rome. The choice of the Irish vernacular as the medium was
in itself a cultural statement.
The powerfulness of Keating’s synthesis is clearly demonstrated by Dr. Cunningham in the concluding section of the book devoted to his legacy. Each subsequent transcription or translation (into English and Latin) signified a set of
values in respect of contemporary Irish affairs,refracted through the revision of
Keating’s text. Gaelic and Old English scholars as well as New Protestants such
as Cox all engaged with his notions of the origins of the Irish and the status of
the kingdom of Ireland. Perhaps the epitome of the image-formation process

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initiated by Keating is the depiction of Brian Boru, the famous high king, in Dermod O’Connor’s first printed version of Foras feasa of 1723 in the guise of a
Christian emperor whose army freed Ireland from Scandinavian heathens. The
significance of the role of Geoffrey Keating as transmitter of the pervasive modern account of Irish history is very evident here.
The absorbing study of the works of Keating and their influence contributes
immensely to our understanding of how the interpretation of the Irish past has
emerged, and especially the conjunction of Catholicism and nationality.
COLM LENNON
National University of Ireland, Maynooth

Historia de la Inquisición en España y América, Volume III: Temas y problemas. Edited by Joaquín Pérez Villanueva and Bartolomé Escandell Bonet.
(Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos. 2000. Pp. xlii, 1256. 10096
pesetas.)
Crypto-Judaism and the Spanish Inquisition. By Michael Alpert. (Basingstoke
and New York: Palgrave. 2001. Pp. x, 246.)
The nineteen chapters included in the third and final volume of this ambitious series make a valuable contribution to Inquisition studies, although, as
often happens in collective volumes of such size, not all chapters fit smoothly
into the editors’ organizational framework. In spite of the title, the book focuses
on the Inquisition in Spain rather than on its role in the Spanish dominions in
the New World with the exception of a chapter on the establishment of the tribunal in Cartagena de Indias. A long and informative chapter on the Inquisition
in Sicily by Manuel Rivero Rodríguez provides another exception to the book’s
Spanish emphasis. It is also worth noting that most of the contributors are
Spanish academics, many young professors influenced by the new currents of
Inquisition historiography, although senior figures in the field are also represented. The generally high quality of the individual chapters and, in many cases,
their sophisticated treatment of difficult questions, such as those revolving
around the “New Christians” or conversos of Jewish descent and their Islamic
counterparts, the moriscos, reflect the conclusions of recent scholarship by
Spanish and non-Spanish historians alike that the role of the Inquisition and its
effects on society were far more complex and less straightforward than once
was thought.
The subjects discussed by the contributors cover a wide range touching important aspects of current debate about the Inquisition and its victims. Roberto
López Vila provides a survey of Spanish historiography on the Inquisition in the
nineteenth and early twentieth centuries when the institution’s history in itself
was less important to those writing about it than the ideological debate be-

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tween liberals, intellectuals, and conservative Catholics. All were more concerned with the kind of Spain existing in their own day than with rigorous examination of the Inquisition’s history. Antonio Domínguez Ortiz, author of a
pioneering study of the conversos, offers a perceptive overview of the institution that emphasizes its role as a political instrument used by successive monarchs, often, in very different ways depending on circumstances. Moved by the
intense orthodoxy generated by the Council of Trent, the perceived Protestant
threat in Europe, and the Ottoman surge in the Mediterranean, Philip II expanded the Inquisition’s privileges and range considerably as conversos and
moriscos fell victim to decades of aggressive persecution. His son, Philip III, reversed up to a point the brutally anti-converso policy of his father for financial
and economic motives so much so that the king’s rigidly orthodox critics called
him “Phillipus Tertius Tertius Rex Judaeorum.” The Count-Duke of Olivares,
the all powerful royal favorite between 1621 and 1643, followed a similar although inconsistent policy permitting the immigration of Portuguese converso
bankers and financiers. A restless and unhappy Inquisition viewed them as secret practitioners of Judaism,but Olivares required their resources and financial
acumen to meet the ruinous cost of sustaining an aggressive and ambitious foreign policy. Domínguez Ortiz, like other contributors, also stresses the importance of studying the regional and local character of the Inquisition and its
activities given that its reach was far from uniform and effective over the kingdom as a whole and even within specific regions.
Throughout its history the Inquisition attempted to enlarge its competence
and privileges within an elaborate civil and ecclesiastical organization beset by
constant jurisdictional battles over the extent of the institution’s authority.
Competing institutions in church and state vigorously defended themselves
against the Inquisition’s pretensions, sometimes successfully. This aspect of the
Inquisition’s history is ably discussed by Joaquín Pérez Villanueva and Filippo
Tamburini. There is also a chapter by Pilar García de Yébenes and Isabel Mendoza García dealing with serious problems of morale and efficiency created by
the sale of offices in the Inquisition of Seville. Teresa Sánchez Rivilla offers a series of short biographies of the inquisitors-general and the members of the
Supreme Council.
The organization’s damaging impact on the kingdom’s intellectual life has
long been accepted by historians. J. Martínez Bujanda and Angel Alcalá agree
with this conclusion, but each offers a nuanced analysis of the topic that avoids
simplistic interpretation. In his chapter dealing with the Inquisition as censor
through its often updated Index, Martínez Bujanda notes that the number of
books prohibited entirely was relatively few. The vast majority were allowed to
appear after expurgation, although the effects of such a policy over time were
no less damaging to the development of an open intellectual life through what
Alcalá sees as the creation of a climate of fear among those wishing to break
through the narrow scholasticism and rigid orthodoxy identified with the Inquisition. Martínez Bujanda also notes that the inquisitorial censors did not concern themselves unduly with books on science. Indeed, they never followed

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the example of their counterparts in Rome who condemned Galileo. The Inquisition’s episodic censorship of scientific works was not alone responsible
for the kingdom’s backwardness in science, as is often assumed, but, rather, it
was one cause among many that worked to discourage scientific progress.
Seven chapters are devoted to one of the most intensely debated questions
revolving around the Inquisition, the persecution of conversos and moriscos.
Rafael Benítez Sánchez-Blanco surveys the tribunal’s inconsistent policy toward
the moriscos which alternated between repression and grudging acceptance of
the fact that the vast majority of these forced converts to Christianity retained
their Islamic beliefs. Most lived in rural areas of Granada, Valencia, and Aragón,
where episodic efforts to force them to live as Christians failed and where, in
any event, the Inquisition’s reach was limited. The moriscos also benefited from
the protection of Christian landowners understandably upset over the damaging economic effects of a policy of outright repression on the morisco agriculturalists who worked their land. Moreover, on more than one occasion the
Crown accepted generous financial payments from the moriscos in exchange
for being less than vigorous in persecuting convert manifestations of Islam. After 1560, these arrangements became less common as Philip II resorted to
harsh repression culminating in the expulsion of the moriscos by Philip III between 1609 and 1611. The civil and ecclesiastical authorities failed completely
to dislodge Islam as the religion of the moriscos between their forced conversion in the early sixteenth century and their expulsion. They failed in large measure because of the nature of Islamic beliefs in relation to Christianity, a topic
ably discussed by Mikel de Epalaza, using the texts of Islamic writers. The
moriscos’ belief in the superiority of Islam remained unshakable. It provided
them with a strong religious and psychological foundation for resisting Christianity that neither church nor state ever undermined.
The situation of the conversos was similar in some respects, but in others it
was very different. Unlike the moriscos, these descendants of Jewish converts
stood fully in the eye of the Inquisition, which directed much of its energy to
rooting out those accused of practicing their religion secretly. Passionate debate raged for years about whether conversos accused by the Inquisition had
preserved their old religion or were simply sincere Christians victimized by the
Inquisition and by a society dominated by so-called “Old Christians” for other
than religious motives. Recent scholarship has established without question
that crypto-Judaism existed among some conversos through the early eighteenth century. Historians have shifted their attention away from the old “black
or white” debate of the past to the question of the nature of crypto-Judaism. Pilar Huerga Criado provides an excellent overview of this new approach. She argues for what might be termed a complicated religious spectrum ranging from
conversos who were aware of their religious antecedents but were sincere
Christians through those in numerous intermediate stages to those who practiced Judaism secretly. To understand how this complex religious world developed,she maintains,it is essential to analyze a range of influences such as family
ties, marriage patterns, business associations, and geographic location, all of

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which affected where an individual fitted in the spectrum. Several contributors
also call attention to the importance of studying the kind of Jewish rites observed by some conversos. There was no uniformity, but a wide range of practices from the vestigial to a more fully formed crypto-Judaism which itself
developed in an autonomous and not entirely orthodox way given that conversos had no access to rabbinical teaching or religious texts because of inquisitorial vigilance.
The influx of Portuguese converso bankers and financiers during the seventeenth and early eighteenth century aroused the Inquisition’s persecuting energies in spite of royal attempts to ward off sustained persecution of a minority
deemed necessary for the monarchy’s financial survival. Bernardo J. López Belinchón provides a perceptive analysis of the delicate balancing act between inquisitorial pressure and the needs of the state attempted by Olivares until his
fall from power in 1643. Once the limited protection provided by Olivares disappeared, Portuguese conversos living in Spain became the primary victims of
the Inquisition in a decades-long campaign of implacable persecution.
Michael Alpert’s solid and well-argued monograph on crypto-Judaism considers the question in general terms, but it focuses on Portuguese conversos
during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. He is in agreement with the
general view of contemporary Inquisition historians that crypto-Judaism existed, especially among the Portuguese conversos. His analysis of individual
cases establishes this beyond a shadow of a doubt. These case studies provide
abundant detail about the role of family, business, social and foreign connections in sustaining the Judaism of conversos who stood far along the religious
spectrum described by Pilar Huerga Criado in the volume discussed above. The
resilience of the Portuguese conversos so ably described in this book was remarkable in comparison with their Spanish counterparts. This reflected,in part,
the relatively late appearance of the Inquisition in Portugal compared with
Spain and the economic needs of a monarchy, even after Philip II became king
of Portugal in 1580, to see to its far flung commercial interests. Even so, the ability of the Portuguese conversos to retain their old faith in the face of sustained
inquisitorial persecution after the mid-seventeenth century provides an outstanding example of religious courage. This was a story that deserved to be
told. Michael Alpert has told it well.
WILLIAM J. CALLAHAN
University of Toronto

Christian Missions and the Enlightenment. Edited by Brian Stanley. [Studies in
the History of Christian Missions.] (Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B.
Eerdmans Publishing Company. 2001. Pp. xi, 246. $45.00.)
Christian Missions and the Enlightenment addresses an issue of central importance in missionary history. Brian Stanley has assembled a team of essayists

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who all have pertinent yet distinct things to say. They offer not just geographical range, but also contrasting yet complementary approaches, and for once it
appears that the contributors have both read and attempted to engage with
each others’ articles.
Stanley’s introduction not only highlights the importance of the theme, but
also cautions against too readily attributing the distinguishing characteristics of
late eighteenth-century Protestant missions to Enlightenment influences. Stanley suggests that the two most significant Enlightenment legacies to these
missions were a concentration on the individual as the object of missionary endeavor, and a confidence in the regenerative capacity of rational knowledge for
the whole of humanity which accompanied—sometimes, but not always, uneasily—the characteristic evangelical emphasis on the redemptive power of
faith.
The essays that follow can be divided into four rough groups. Two pieces discuss important themes across the whole range of Protestant missionary activity. Andrew Wall’s study of the missions in a European context underlines the
need to see the Protestant missionary awakening, sometimes located in the
efforts of late eighteenth-century English figures such as William Carey, as a
process with roots much further back in the century and in continental Europe.
While the forms of voluntary association developed in Hanoverian Britain contributed something distinctive to the missionary enterprise, so did the continental tradition: not only in terms of personnel, on whom the British societies
depended well into the nineteenth century,but also in terms of scholarship and
associative traditions that gave Enlightenment individualism communal expression. Bruce Hindmarsh’s nicely executed essay explores how the evangelical
understanding of conversion, which he argues was dependent on a rich vein of
cultural traditions both in terms of Christian doctrine and developing conceptions of the self, translated to a variety of missionary contexts in which these
were absent or present only in a mediated form.
Ian Maxwell and Brian Stanley explore how the Scottish Enlightenment impacted on missionary strategies as debated among Scottish and English mission
supporters. Maxwell shows how Scottish Moderates applied enlightenment understandings of the civilizing process to missionary work. For them effective
evangelism was dependent on the prior existence of a sufficient level of civilization to ensure that the gospel message would be rationally comprehended.
Evangelicals were more prepared to trust in the power of the Christian message
to win souls in even the most unpromising circumstances. Despite the rise to
dominance of the evangelical tradition within the Church of Scotland, Maxwell
argues that it was a strategy derived from the Moderate position that proved
most enduring. Stanley shows that in England the evangelical understanding remained more influential, but in a carefully nuanced discussion also demonstrates that in practice few missionaries did not seek to foster both faith and
civilization in tandem,not least as experience increasingly informed theological
and philosophical imperatives.

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The same careful reading of the evidence apparent in Stanley’s essay also
characterizes Natasha Erlank’s more focused study of Scottish missions to the
Xhosa. Her piece demonstrates how the evangelical and Moderate approaches
were played out on the ground, while emphasizing that a stress on education
was virtually all that was left of the once dominant Moderate strategy by the
time it was applied to the missions of Southern Africa. Jane Samson’s study of
the interplay of ethnographic and theological ideas in the writings of South Pacific missionaries emphasizes the tensions inherent between the evangelical
belief in the universal redeemability of mankind and the ethnographer’s need
to differentiate and discriminate. Like Erlank’s piece, it provides timely caution
against generalizing too bluntly about missionary attitudes, not least in so far as
they can be regarded as expressive of attitudes current in their domestic cultures. The remaining historical essay in the volume offers a case study of India,
as Penny Carson explores the role of Enlightenment discourses in the complex
interaction of Anglican and dissenting evangelicals,the East India Company,and
indigenous Indian religious traditions.
The book concludes with a theological reflection on the past and future of
mission strategy by Daniel Hardy. This is conducted at a level of abstraction
which will prove too much for many historians, notably when the (acknowledged) complexities of ‘the Enlightenment’ are reduced to the point at which it
can serve as a term in the formulae ER (‘Enlightenment-reconstituting’), E1
(‘Enlightenment-instrumentalizing’), and EC (‘Enlightenment-correlating’). Those
who persist nevertheless will be rewarded with some potentially fruitful observations that could perhaps have been articulated in a less ‘in-house’ manner.
This volume is in no sense the last word on Christian Missions and the Enlightenment,not least because of its exclusive focus on the Protestant tradition,
and because it finds no space for those historians who have seen a more
‘counter-Enlightenment’ tradition in evangelical missions to state their case.
These omissions are none the less a small price to pay for the added coherence
and thrust which the collection has acquired as a result of focusing more narrowly than its title would suggest.
ARTHUR BURNS
King’s College London

Late Modern European
The Idea of France. By Pierre Birnbaum. Translated by M. B. DeBevoise. (New
York: Hill and Wang. 2001. Pp. xiii, 370. $32.00.)
In his introduction to The Idea of France (originally La France imaginée),
Pierre Birnbaum writes,“On the one hand, [France] has seen its soul as residing
in a privileged relationship with Reason, and its deep personality expressed in
an unquestioning adherence to the ideas of the Enlightenment” and “on the

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other hand, has conceived itself as the eldest daughter of the Church, the Catholic nation par excellence.” And yet despite the “virtuous republicans” and
the “uncompromising Catholic counter-revolutionaries,” there was always one
France in geography and government (pp. 11–12). Birnbaum privileges the insights of Alexis de Tocqueville, who wished for France the openness and varieties of religion found in America; privileges also the revolutionary-era projects
of Abbés Emmanuel-Joseph Sieyès and Henri Grégoire, the one a thoroughly
secularized politician and the other a zealous revolutionary bishop. Here
the operative theme is regeneration, specifically of the body of the nation—
biological metaphors predominating.
A tradition of intransigence in French Catholicism begins with Joseph de
Maistre, calling for the destruction of error, and ends with the Vichy government, supporting a rightist religious nationalism. Ardent republicans, for their
part,enthusiastically embraced the revolutionary heritage,rejecting neither Terror nor dechristianization. Liberals satisfied neither side. Constant, Renan, and
the very secular Universal Exposition of 1889 put traditional Catholics on the
defensive; and Catholic influence in government and education was unacceptable to purist republicans. Antagonism was highest in the years of the Dreyfus
Affair, when a Jewish French officer was accused of espionage by the heavily
Catholic army administration, and was then defended mostly by the republican
left. The inevitable outcome was the 1905 separation of Church and State.
Then came the great drama of World War I, the confused years of partial recovery, the Nazi takeover of France and establishment of a puppet government
at Vichy. Birnbaum shows the slide into anti-liberal behavior (to say the least) of
former republicans. When World War II ended, the École Nationale d’Administration was designed to restore republican values in government and commerce, but the Algerian crisis and the subsequent authoritarian presidency of
DeGaulle stalled the republican revival and created a new balance of forces. In
the end, the old antagonism between the republican left and the Catholic right
diminished, partly because of indifference and partly because other challenges
made each side forget the old enemy. Even the funeral of the agnostic socialist,
ex-president Mitterrand, was a Catholic funeral. Official Catholicism, represented by the archbishop of Paris, born Jewish and a convert in his teens, JeanMarie Lustiger, embraced the republic as the real France. And representatives of
the old anti-Catholic Ligue Française de l’Enseignement declared,“We have accepted religions as enduring cultural facts out of which France has been made”
(quoted on p. 223). If anything, the leaders of French Catholicism were more
accepting than political leaders of pluralism of commitment and public expression of that commitment. Witness the 1990’s controversy over the wearing
of the veil by Muslim students in the school system. Here, freedom of expression was championed against some resolutely secular members of the government by Lustiger himself:“Is there a republican religion that prohibits one from
being a Catholic, a Protestant, a Jew, a Muslim—even a skeptic? The republican
ideal of citizenship does not claim to be a substitute for religion” (quoted on p.
256).

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Pierre Birnbaum offers a representative selection of national-political dramas, with many crossings over to the contemporary scene along the chronological way. Though not a historical study technically speaking, The Idea of
France is an excellent starting point for any discussion of Catholicism and national identity in France.
JOSEPH F. BYRNES
Oklahoma State University

A German Life in the Age of Revolution: Joseph Görres, 1776–1848. By Jon
Vanden Heuvel. (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America
Press. 2001. Pp. xxvii, 408. $69.95.)
A biography of Joseph Görres has been long needed; to write one, however,
is a risky undertaking. As a consequence, most historians have approached this
many-sided personality and his multi-faceted, difficult œuvre primarily through
editions and investigations of particular aspects. In bold strokes,Vanden Heuvel
presents a well-organized biography, integrating an immense body of pertinent
literature and published and archival sources. Görres’ metamorphoses are
brought together in a triad, organized around successive new, yet always astonishingly consistent, appearances on the political stage. After 1790, the young
Görres, influenced by the climate of the Enlightenment, became active in journalism first as a republican. He welcomed the French Revolution and its cosmopolitanism, but saw it through the lenses of the German idealist, Immanuel
Kant. By 1814–1818 the eloquent publisher of the Rheinischer Merkur had
turned his back on the Revolution, recalling the medieval, religious traditions of
German history. Now he turned himself into the champion of national rebirth
against the military despot Napoleon, who was draping a historically-rooted Europe in the abstract, antireligious garments of the Revolution. Implacable persecution by Prussia, which could not bear his quite moderate criticism and his
petition for a constitution, forced Görres to flee to Frankfurt, Strasbourg, and
Aarau (in Switzerland). The journalistic and political activity that was actually
historically significant, however, Görres developed in a third phase, in
1827–1848, when King Ludwig I appointed him Professor of History at the University of Munich. Especially with his Athanasius (1838), with his periodical
Eos (1828–1832), and with the Historisch-politische Blätter (1838 ff.) Görres,
who had already (1824–1826) served as co-publisher of the Strasbourg periodical Katholik, became the representative of “confessional politics.” In the intervals, however, Görres’ life was repeatedly characterized by periods of political
withdrawal, but restless scholarly activity. Its best-known fruit, Christian Mysticism (1837–1842), with its supernaturalism, constituted an important foundation for his visionary hopes of grounding politics upon a moral, religious basis,
in which he also saw a legacy of history.
Vanden Heuvel depicts the process of Görres’ inner development synoptically on the basis of selected writings and letters. Beyond that, he embeds this

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life broadly and knowledgeably in the intellectual, political, and social structures of the revolutionary period and the Vormärz (a period that has, to be
sure, been better researched than Henry Kissinger, in his foreword, supposes).
Görres’ character, his fearlessness, his integrity, is depicted with empathy. Scholarly comparisons and analogies illustrate important turning points: at first Görres put his trust in the state, until 1800 in the form of a virtuous Republic, and
then through 1819, in the form of the Old-German ideal. After 1819, and then
again after 1826, it was the Church that became for him the guarantor of freedom and the common weal (p. 254). With characteristic tenacity he appealed
to the power of the people; and while his republican and patriotic appeals
sounded without echo, with his invocation of religious feeling he aroused a
mass political movement (pp. 344 f.).
Such insights,however,should have dissuaded the author from stamping Görres as a political theologian, from terming him, in his third phase,“reactionary”
(p. 353) or “arch-conservative.” Görres was no determinist proclaiming the existing European social order eternally valid (pp. 303, 363), instrumentalizing religion for national or—in its ‘ultramontane’ form—anti-revolutionary ends (pp.
274, 339 f). He did, after all, point out to Ludwig I that God himself expected
“free self-determination” from human beings (Gesammelte Schriften, vol. 14, p.
106). Adherence to morality, to the common good, to “propriety” [“Sitte”] is for
Görres an achievement of the individual, arising, to be sure, from a belief in
God—but not for that reason in itself inconsistent. He considered this moral
orientation the foundation stone of the life of the state as well, after other political principles, which he had tested and found wanting, had deeply disappointed him. With that Görres marked off the beginnings of an independent
political path, which Vanden Heuvel must distort if he is going to claim that it
is politically illegitimate (or even conservative). It is a matter of taking seriously
the parallels, to which the author himself shrewdly alludes, between the political theory of Görres and that of Ernst Troeltsch or Max Weber. Görres made an
original contribution to historical political theory when he developed a style of
historical-political argument that related different periods,such as Reformation,
Revolution, and Absolutism, to each other, and when he put despotism and revolution on the same level, because both disregard law, self-determination, and
the foundations of the social order. Görres simply does not fit into a Right-Left
scheme (p. 362), but rather precisely contradicts such a spectrum—so why
must we press him into this procrustean bed again today? Just because Görres
designated bureaucracy as mechanistic does not make him an enemy of the articulation of pluralistic interests: what else in fact was his championship, in a
modernizing world, of controversial particular positions and institutions? That
he sought to integrate religious values into the political system was just as legitimate in his day as the developing adherence to secularism or nationalism;
was in fact a necessary answer to such developments: it was “challenge and response,” articulated as a democratic principle by a monarchist of the Vormärz.
WINFRIED BECKER
University of Passau

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Churches and Social Issues in Twentieth-Century Britain. By G. I. T. Machin.
(New York: Clarendon Press, Oxford University Press. 1998. Pp. xii, 269.
$65.00.)
G. I. T. Machin’s previous distinguished work on politics and the churches in
nineteenth-century Britain is an invaluable resource for scholars. In this new
book he turns his attention to the twentieth century, while shifting his focus
from politics, in which the impact of the churches was increasingly marginal, to
social issues, on which their role arguably remained more substantial. Machin
gives particular attention to sexual morality (including abortion, artificial contraception, and divorce), and to attitudes to drink, gambling, the cinema, and
Sunday observance. The organization of the book is chronological, with initial
and concluding chapters on, respectively, the periods before 1918 and after
1970, framing a somewhat more detailed examination of the intervening halfcentury. The overall impression given is that the churches tended to reflect
wider social mores far more than they shaped them, although there were significant divisions within as much as between denominations on the extent to
which traditional Christian teaching should be adapted to a changing society.
As the period went on, the churches, despite some brief and partial recoveries
of influence, appeared increasingly embattled and marginal.
The book ranges widely across the denominations, and draws primarily on
sources such as the papers of Anglican archbishops, the minutes of denominational bodies, and religious newspapers and periodicals. It is therefore a
valuable guide to the perspectives of denominational leaderships. There is extensive coverage of Scotland, although Wales receives relatively little attention.
Discussion of the Catholic Church is largely limited to matters of sexual morality, but is helpfully set in the context of Christian opinion as a whole. The effect
is to show that although Catholic views tended to the conservative end of the
spectrum, they were paralleled in other churches, including the most staunchly
Protestant denominations.
The strength of Machin’s account lies in his material on moral issues,
whereas central social issues of class and labor relations are not given much
coverage, except in relation to the 1918–1939 period. Gender roles and race relations merit more attention than they receive here. There is also a need for
more substantive treatment of education, surely a crucial interface between the
churches and society. Further research is needed to complement Machin’s
work with analysis of attitudes and activities at the local grass roots. More attention could also be given to the roles of individual committed members of
churches outside their immediate denominational networks. Such a wider field
of view would have revealed other and diverse forms of creative engagement
between the churches and society. Hence overall this book probably somewhat
underestimates the social impact of twentieth-century British Christianity.
Nevertheless, Machin has done much to map out a territory and to provide a
perspective that spans both the century and the wide variety of British church
life. It provides valuable contextualization of more short-term developments

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such as the impact of Archbishop William Temple in the interwar years, or responses to the ‘sexual revolution’ of the 1960’s. This is a welcome, accessible,
and scholarly exploratory study of a field that merits further detailed research.
JOHN WOLFFE
The Open University

Katholizismus und Eugenik in der Weimarer Republik und im Dritten Reich:
Zwischen Sittlichkeitsreform und Rassenhygiene. By Ingrid Richter. [Veröffentlichungen der Kommission für Zeitgeschichte, Reihe B: Forschungen,
Band 88.] (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh. 2001. Pp. 572. DM 98.)
This scholarly contribution analyzing the German Catholic response to the
broad movement of eugenics and to Rassenhygiene in the Third Reich is a volume in the series sponsored by the Kommission für Zeitgeschichte. Using the
Caritas Archives, diocesan archives, and the Prussian Archives, among others, as
well as virtually all the published documents and secondary works available,
Richter has carefully reconstructed the debate around eugenics, sterilization,
and euthanasia that embroiled the Catholic community from 1918 until the
Nazi euthanasia policy was launched. Richter has carefully developed the nuanced positions of such scholars as Hermann Muckermann and Joseph Mayer
during these years as well as the rigorous discussion of eugenic issues that characterized the debates of other Catholic theologians and political leaders concerned with marriage, sexual health, and the improvement of society. She has
shown that the debates focusing on “positive” and “negative” eugenics were
more complex and varied than previous scholars interested in the Catholic response have suggested.
Richter has successfully explicated the political, social, economic, cultural,
and religious milieu, in which Catholics, who wanted to respond to the burning
issues of eugenics, developed and moderated their positions. She has carefully
delineated how the moral responses, addressing eugenics, were formulated by
Catholics in the Weimar era and then how church leaders confronted the Nazi
applications of “racial hygiene.” Most Catholics could not, at least theoretically,
accept the Nazi violations of the bodily integrity of men and women. Catholics
in the Third Reich rested their responses on the natural-law ethic proclaimed
somewhat ambivalently, or so they said, in the encyclical Casti Connubii
(1930).
This work offers a review of the literature that establishes the parameters of
the Catholic theological and political debates during the Weimar years and analyzes how Catholics reacted to the Nazi attempt to establish totalitarian control
in the field of eugenics. Catholic bishops, theologians, and laity rooted their responses to the eugenic impulses of the era in their religious and political needs.
The Catholic Church is frequently tagged as a monolithic institution, but
Richter’s book successfully challenges that accusation as she presents a sur-

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prising array of discrete positions that responded to the cutting issues of these
decades. Much of the previous research has centered on such prominent Catholic eugenicists as Muckermann and Mayer. These scholars, however, were only
part of the larger picture that she reveals through her use of the documentary
sources and through her reconstruction of the political debates.
To recreate the milieu in which Catholics staked out their positions on eugenics, Richter has explored how Catholics responded affirmatively through
positive eugenics to the politics of re-population after the devastation wreaked
during World War I. Generally, representatives of the Church could support
policies designed to improve society through marriage counseling and sex education. Controversy erupted, of course, with the introduction of negative eugenics, i.e., abortion, sterilization, artificial birth control, and euthanasia. The
debate around negative eugenics (sterilization) was centered in the political
arena of pre-Nazi Prussia and theologically erupted in the works of Mayer, supported by such theologians as Fritz Tillmann and Otto Schilling, and in those of
his opponent Franz Hürth. Despite the alleged ambivalence of Casti Connubii,
most theologians reduced their support of Mayer after 1930. Even Muckermann, associated with such prominent Weimar and Nazi eugenicists as Otmar
von Verschuer, Eugen Fischer, and Fritz Lenz, by 1933 assumed a position that
was pro-eugenic, but antisterilization. Richter gives Muckermann’s position a
clarity that it did not enjoy at the time, since he used the same eugenic terminology as that used by those supporting Nazi policies, which, of course, could
confuse Catholics.
Very quickly, most Catholics parted company with the eugenicists who supported Nazi racism. Papal pronouncements, episcopal statements, along with
pastoral counsel, and the assault by Nazi eugenics on the human dignity of Germans through the Sterilization Law of 1933 drove most Catholic commentators
into aligning with their church. Even in the Third Reich, however, discussions
focused on such topics as sterilization for criminal offenses, the need to promote the “common good,” and the issue of co-operating at some level with the
law forced such Catholics as those in the nursing profession into situations of
adapting as best they could to Nazi ideologically driven negative eugenics.
Catholic consciences were often softened by the political and theological compromises that were made by the Church with the state as Catholics struggled to
maintain a political loyalty to the Third Reich.
Richter has contributed an excellent case study illustrating the “sociology of
knowledge” model that is currently favored by historians studying the “milieu”
that impacted on the lives of so many Germans from 1870 to 1945. She has also
re-opened the debate around the controversial pro-euthanasia memorandum,
purportedly written by Mayer as a Catholic justification for Hitler’s euthanasia
policy of 1939. Her analysis does not conclusively prove that her predecessors
were wrong, but rather only that there are more ambiguities than these earlier
studies had uncovered. Like so many in Nazi Germany, Mayer adjusted to the

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contingencies of the day. Richter reminds us that Catholic theologians were involved in an ongoing effort to navigate ethically through a culture that was always becoming more brutalizing.
Richter’s book is a superb study of how state and church policies along with
theological opinions can change in a society, whether democratic or Nazi, and
shows the trouble that Catholic doctrine may encounter when it has to engage
an ideologically driven society. German Catholics continued to exhibit the myopic patriotism and nationalism that had emerged so forcefully after 1870 and
that drove their responses to the political and ethical issues of this period.
DONALD J. DIETRICH
Boston College

Schweizer Katholizismus, 1933–1945. Eine Konfessionskultur zwischen
Abkapselung und Solidarität. Edited by Victor Conzemius. (Zurich: Verlag
Neue Zürcher Zeitung. 2001. Pp. 696. Fr. 78.–; Euros 52.–.)
In the late 1990’s, the Swiss began to analyze how they and their institutions
had reacted to the political assaults of Nazi Germany. Among other problems,
they reflected on the issues surrounding the Jewish refugees who sought sanctuary in their country. Not surprisingly, questions arose concerning how antiSemitism had tarnished the responses of the Christian churches. This scholarly
work is a comprehensive study designed to clarify the values, attitudes, and behaviors of Catholic leaders and laity during this dark era. A long and distinguished career examining how the Church reacted to totalitarianism in the
twentieth century has made Conzemius the perfect editor for such a volume.
In 1997 Conzemius was asked by the Römische-Katholische Zentralkonferenz of Switzerland to direct a research project, ultimately the source of this
book, which was to focus on the Church’s response to Nazism. The authors of
the essays in this collection have examined the Spanish Civil War as an example
of the Church under siege in a fascist state, Christian life in the varied Cantons,
and, in particular, the relationships that emerged as Christians and Jews interacted during these stressful years, while Hitler advanced Nazi interests. Stephen
Leingruber, Urs Altermatt, Christoph Baumer, and Jonas Arnold have touched on
the now familiar theme of the relationship between Christian anti-Judaism and
modern socio-political, i.e., racial, anti-Semitism. Their analyses inevitably lead
into the controversy surrounding the Christian roots of anti-Semitism,which by
now is fairly well-trodden ground. Still, these authors bring a new perspective
to the conversation, since they are particularly concerned with the attitudes of
Catholics toward Jewish refugees and so focus on how bystanders in a neutral
country reacted to Nazi barbarism. The book also includes personal recollections, which are provided by five witnesses to the tensions that erupted over
Jewish refugee issues in St. Gallen-Rorschach.

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Up until now in the scholarly literature concerned with the Nazi era, the experiences of the Swiss have not contributed much to our ongoing attempts to
understand the church struggle,the role of Pius XII and the institutional church
during this era, and the Church’s contribution to modern anti-Semitism. Several
perspectives offered in this collection, however, seem to open up unique viewpoints that could be profitably pursued. Thomas Maissen, for example, suggests
that the symbiotic relationship that seems to attract the Church to the totalitarian impulse probably should be revisited, since it goes to the root of the modern Church’s response to modernity, even today. The fact that the Church felt
more comfortable during its pre-Vatican Council II days when dealing with one
person rather than with democracy still resonates. Maissen’s essay should again
lead students of this era into re-examining how the Church interacted with
Nazism as both tried to defend themselves from the so-called threats emanating
from liberalism and democracy, which both saw rooted in the “Jewish threat.”
His critical appraisal of the Church’s responses to modernity could, perhaps,
help educate those church leaders who today seem uncomfortable with the
pluralistic culture, which seemingly threatens the Church’s message.
Altermatt and Baumer also focus on the issue of Christian anti-Semitism/antiJudaism. Altermatt is particularly concerned with the effects of the historical intrusion of anti-Judaism, at least until Vatican Council II, into the Good Friday
liturgy and into the varied Passion Play presentations in European countries.
Baumer has developed an essay on Rudolf Walter von Moos, S.J., who wrote on
Judaism, racism, and eugenics during the Nazi era. Moos saw in racism a materialistic, deterministic, and pantheistic “faith,” but then connected his critical
evaluation to a traditional Christian anti-Semitism, wherein the Jews were seen
as the bane of Christian civilization. Moos,therefore,offered an ambivalent message that Baumer reminds us was a product of his culture. In essence, Baumer’s
essay tells us why contemporary scholars continue to find it difficult to deal
with the Catholic Church in this era. Moral hindsight, which to be sure can be
critical, also has to be tempered with an understanding of what Moos and his
contemporaries faced and of the milieu in which they lived.
These essays help remind us that we may never reach a definitive and satisfactory explanation of the role that the Church played in this era. The complexity revealed by the words and actions of Swiss Catholics should caution
scholars to guard against reductionism in their interpretations as they reflect on
the plurality of responses made by these men and women who seem tainted by
anti-Semitism even while discussing the scriptural injunction to love their
neighbors. The ambivalence apparent among Swiss Catholics should help prevent closure to the issues swirling around “the church struggle” as we continue
to explore the historical data that remind us of the fragility of the human condition.
DONALD J. DIETRICH
Boston College

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Bede Griffiths. A Life in Dialogue. By Judson B. Trapnell. (Albany: State University of New York Press. 2001. Pp. xvii, 279. $16.95 paperback.)
Interreligious dialogue has for some time been the subject of scholars and
academics. Interested individuals have undertaken the study of history, philosophies,and languages to appreciate and understand non-Western religions. Some
have even traveled to distant countries to experience first hand these traditions, and others have spent a greater part of their lives in societies completely
different from the country of their birth. Non-Christian religions have always interested a number Roman Catholics, but recently, at least since Vatican Council
II, an appreciation of these beliefs has replaced fascination or intellectual curiosity. Moreover, this council also recognized the need for interreligious dialogue and inculturation. Bede Griffiths (1906–1993), an English monk, not only
developed an interest in Hinduism, but his desire to fashion a marriage of East
and West took him to India in 1955, where he lived until his death.
Judson Trapnell introduces this interesting and informative book by stating
emphatically that this work it is not a biography, and he refers the reader to
other accounts of Bede Griffiths’ accomplishments. “In contrast, this book presents a highly structured interpretation of Griffiths’s life and thought,shaped by
categories that he himself suggested in later years as he reflected upon the paradigmatic quality of that life” (p. 1). Key aspects of Bede Grittiths’ career, however, do form an important element in this study. Not only does Trapnell begin
his book by discussing the days leading up to Griffiths’ death in India, but he introduces each chapter with events which influenced the development of his
thought.
Trapnell divides this study of Griffiths into three chapters which correspond
to important periods in his life: God in nature (1906–1932), God in Christ and
the Church (1932–1968), and Nonduality, Advaita (1968–1993). The first chapter describes Griffiths’ early intellectual journey, especially the importance of
symbols and the influence of the Romantic poets. The second, which corresponds with his conversion to Roman Catholicism,his monastic vocation in England, and his departure for India in 1955, explores the theme of the knowledge
of God through the symbols of Bible, liturgy, and prayer. In the final chapter, the
author discusses Bede Griffiths’ role as culture bearer, intuitive wisdom, and the
idea of Christian advaita. Hindu traditions and the surrender to God’s will
emerge as important aspects of this period of Griffiths’ life, especially after his
health began to decline.
Trapnell has provided anyone interested in Bede Griffiths with an important
and significant analysis of his thought and contributions. This book is well organized and explains the main philosophical and theological themes in a clear
and concise manner. Moreover, one can easily see the development in Griffiths’
thought and understand the tensions within his spiritual journey. The author’s
in-depth knowledge of his subject’s writings and his appreciation of the west-

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ern influences on Griffiths’ spirituality is obvious. Trapnell is also at home with
Hindu thought and culture. To people unfamiliar with his interesting life and his
contributions to interreligious dialogue, one of the biographies of Griffiths
might prove useful.
RENE KOLLAR, O. S. B.
Saint Vincent Archabbey

American
Inventing the “Great Awakening.” By Frank Lambert. (Princeton: Princeton
University Press. 1999; paperback, 2001. Pp. xiii, 300. $47.50 clothbound,
$18.95 paperback.)
Historians in recent decades have disagreed sharply over the significance of
the “Great Awakening,” the series of revivals that swept British North America
in the 1730’s and 1740’s. One catalyst of the debate was Alan Heimert’s Religion and the American Mind (1966), which argued that the evangelical Calvinism of the Awakening, not the religious liberalism of its opponents, laid the
ideological foundation of the American Revolution. Heimert’s work drew retorts from Edmund S. Morgan and Sidney E. Mead, even as other historians, including Patricia U. Bonomi, Richard L. Bushman, Rhys Isaac, Gary B. Nash, and
Harry S. Stout, developed in various ways the idea that the Awakening contributed to the egalitarian and democratic impulses of the Revolution. Then in
a 1982 article, Jon Butler recast the debate by insisting that the Great Awakening was largely the fiction of later historians who misjudged the cohesiveness
and the extent of the revivals. Joseph A. Conforti built on Butler’s argument,
suggesting that the first Great Awakening was actually invented by revival promoters during the second Great Awakening of the 1830’s.
Now Frank Lambert, author of a biography of George Whitefield (Princeton,
1994), has opened a new chapter in the debate with this persuasive and carefully researched study. Building on Butler and Conforti’s thesis of the Great
Awakening as “invented,” Lambert traces the act of invention back to the revivals themselves, when figures such as Jonathan Edwards in the 1730’s helped
popularize the notion of a general “Work of God” that would change the course
of history throughout the colonies. Though the term itself,“Great Awakening,”
originated with later interpreters, Lambert convincingly shows that the idea of
an intercolonial, and even transatlantic, resurgence of religion was integral to
the rhetoric of the revivals and was extensively promoted in pro-revival books
and periodicals.
Indeed, much of Lambert’s study centers on eighteenth-century print culture
and its complex relation to the “invention” of the Awakening. He explores the
role of a variety of evangelical publications in America and Britain, including
the magazine Christian History, inaugurated by Thomas Prince in Boston in

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1743, and Historical Collections, published by the Scottish revivalist John
Gillies in 1754, in which the revivals were portrayed as nothing less than a
second reformation. In such venues, the revivals were an “invention” in the
eighteenth-century sense of discovering a thing hidden (namely, scriptural
truth) or designing new means of channeling divine grace. But to opponents
such as Charles Chauncy, the revivals were mere fabrications, or “inventions” in
the negative sense. Lambert paints a vivid picture of this contest of meaning,
while also providing a detailed publication history of the Awakening’s “model
script”: Edwards’ Faithful Narrative, first issued in London in 1737.
Replete with tables outlining revival events and publications, Lambert’s book
is a highly accessible account for specialists and nonspecialists alike. His attention to the importance of print, his appreciation of the role of transatlantic revival networks, and his sensitivity to the nuances of cultural “invention” make
this a model of historical scholarship.
PETER J.THUESEN
Tufts University

Commonwealth Catholicism: A History of the Catholic Church in Virginia. By
Gerald P. Fogarty, S.J. (Notre Dame, Indiana: University of Notre Dame
Press. 2001. Pp. xxix, 687. $34.95.)
In this authoritative narrative the author has left no stone unturned in his effort to describe a remarkable development that covered some four hundred
years. It begins with the ill-fated efforts of Spanish Jesuits to establish a mission
near the York River in 1570. It ends with the appointment of Walter F. Sullivan
as Richmond’s eleventh bishop in 1974.
The movement of the Brents from Maryland to northern Virginia is cited as a
milestone. Their home on Aquia Creek would in 1930 be memorialized with a
large crucifix and plaque. There annual pilgrimages would be held, often favored by the Marine Band from Quantico, as a reminder of the longevity of the
Catholic presence in Virginia. John Carroll’s visits to his Brent relatives is duly
noted before the author takes us to the first unhappy attempt to make Virginia
a diocese.
In 1820, in an effort to quell trusteeism in Norfolk, Patrick Kelly of Ireland
was named first bishop of the Diocese of Richmond, which encompassed the
State of Virginia. As a result of the vehement opposition to this appointment on
the part of Archbishop Ambrose Maréchal of Baltimore, who was not consulted, Kelly left Virginia in 1822 without even having seen his see city. From
then until 1840 the archbishops of Baltimore were, in effect, also the bishops of
Richmond.
The nine bishops of Richmond after 1840 were Richard Vincent Whelan
(1840–1850), John McGill (1850–1872), James Gibbons (1872–1877), John

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Joseph Keane (1878–1888), Augustine van de Vyver (1889–1911), Denis
O’Connell (1912–1926), Andrew Brennan (1926–1945), Peter L. Ireton
(1945–1958), and John J. Russell (1958–1973). Four of the nine were born in
Baltimore (Whelan, Gibbons, Ireton, and Russell), two in Ireland (Keane and
O’Connell), two in Pennsylvania (McGill and Brennan), and one in Belgium (van
de Vyver). Three (Gibbons, Keane, and O’Connell), who had attempted to “apply the accommodating style of Virginia Catholicism on a national level” (p.
190), were the leaders of the Americanizers in the turbulent decade and a half
at the end of the nineteenth century so well rehearsed by the historians of
American Catholicism. Despite certain affinities the bishops of Richmond differed markedly in temperament and tactics. None was a carbon copy of his predecessor.
By and large the bishops of Richmond were liberal-minded, at least ecumenical. Beginning with McGill all were attentive to the needs of their AfricanAmerican charges. Russell was outstanding in his promotion of civil rights;
integration came to the diocese on the eve of Brown vs. Board of Education.
From the diocesan clergy came three of the most progressive bishops in the
South in near-contemporary times: Vincent Waters of Raleigh, Ernest Unterkoefler of Charleston, and Carroll Dozier of Memphis.
The laity was largely old stock until the coming of Irish professionals and
merchants at the beginning of the nineteenth century. But the demographic
base of the diocese was laid by the Irish who came to work on the railroads the
decade before and after the Civil War. Virginia welcomed only a trickle of “New
Immigrants” at the end of the century and beginning of the next: Italians, Slavic
Europeans, and Syrian Maronites. The two world wars would bring Americans
of many backgrounds. A global economy would finally bring modest numbers
of Hispanics and Asians.
Except for the relatively brief tantrums in Virginia of the Know Nothings of
the 1850’s and the Ku Klux Klan of the 1920’s Virginia Catholics lived at peace
with their Protestant neighbors. In 1938, when Richmond hosted the Rural Life
Conference, it was noted that 93 percent of the diocese’s Catholics lived in urban areas. World War II brought newcomers mostly from the North to Virginia
suburbs of the national capital and the naval facilities of the Norfolk-Newport
News area. Russell presided over the transition of the Old South to the New, the
author observes, when in 1960 the body of Bishop McGill, a staunch supporter
of the Confederacy, was moved from the old Cathedral to the new, attended by
only a handful of Sons of Confederate Veterans and Daughters of the Confederacy. Thereafter the Catholic laity would be dominated by the newcomers
from the North who settled in the suburbs, the “storied land of power mower
and charcoal cookout,” as Bishop Russell characterized it.
The most instructive parts of this work are perhaps those devoted to the influence of transportation on the patterns of Catholic life: the railroad, the trolley, and the automobile. In the post-World War II era, for example, school yards
became parking lots. Catholics no longer walked to a neighborhood church

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that provided ethnic and religious identity. Many took the Interstate highways
that were to a great extent responsible for a new Virginia diocese in 1974.
The year that Walter Sullivan became bishop of Richmond the diocese lost to
the newly created diocese of Arlington counties that included those of West Virginia that ran to the Allegheny mountains. At the same time it acquired in the
southwest counties in Virginia to the west of the same mountains that had belonged to the diocese of Wheeling and the two Virginia counties at the tip of
the Delmarva Peninsula that had belonged to the diocese of Wilmington. When
in 1875 the bishop of Wheeling had suggested to Rome that diocesan boundaries be made to coincide with state lines, the proposal had met with the strenuous opposition of the bishop of Richmond (Gibbons).
This is a truly magisterial work that could well serve as model in its comprehensive coverage and attention to detail.
THOMAS W. SPALDING
Spalding University

The Catholic Church in Mississippi, 1911–1984: A History. By Michael V.
Namorato. (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press. 1998. Pp. xxiii, 313.
$59.95 cloth.)
The Catholic Church in Mississippi seems like an anomaly in what some
might think of as the heart of the Southern Bible Belt. We owe a debt to Michael
Namorato for a well documented and well written study that tells us otherwise.
This work, however, does more than simply chronicle the institutional development of the Catholic Church in inhospitable territory. Instead it is a narrative
that allows the reader to see the development of the institution against the
background of social and political developments in a predominantly Protestant
Southern state. It is also a compelling story of the leadership, compassion, and
dedication of those who guided the Church during her formative years, and
who in spite of local conventions held steadfast to the ethos of the Church.
Professor Namorato’s study, which ought to be considered a standard for
church history, is presented in two parts. The first, “The Hierarchy,” tells the
story of John Gunn, Richard Gerow, and Joseph Brunini, the bishops who provided the leadership and inspiration for the Mississippi Catholic Church from
1911 through 1984. It is a detailed examination of the issues each confronted,
from education to racial relations. Indeed, one salutary aspect of this work is
Namorato’s discussion of the racial issues confronting the Mississippi Church.
Gunn, a graduate of the Gregorian University of Rome, walked a fine line between the culture of the South and the needs of his black adherents. He supported the establishment of a black seminary to train blacks for the priesthood
and hoped in this way to help deal with the shortage of priests in his diocese.
Gerow was committed to his black members as well. Brunini, a native of Mis-

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sissippi and the son of an Italian father and Jewish mother, was committed to
bring about an end to racism, sought the betterment of conditions for native
Americans in the South, and participated in programs designed to help the elderly in his diocese. He was, as Professor Namorato points out, “a visionary, a
shepherd of his flock within the changing church of Vatican II, and a bishop . . .
active in addressing the issues affecting Mississippi,the South,the United States,
and the Catholic Church” (p. 107), though it was in the area of race relations, as
the author so clearly demonstrates, that he made his most lasting contribution.
The second part of this work, “Clergy, Religious, and Laity,” describes the
work of the Church in education and healthcare and especially its work with
minority populations in Mississippi. Important to the survival and the growth of
the Church, which had to deal with shortages of parish priests, was the role of
religious orders and the laity, though, it should be pointed out that the laity was
not always in agreement with the policies of the Church as was evidenced by
the struggle to achieve integration within its schools and parishes. In the final
analysis Professor Namorato has developed a cogent analysis of the Catholic
Church in Mississippi that has much to offer to students of social, political, and
religious history.
SILVANO A.WUESCHNER
University of Iowa

Robert E. Speer: Prophet of the American Church. By John F. Piper, Jr.
(Louisville, Kentucky: Geneva Press. 2000. Pp. xxii, 538. $34.95.)
Some historical figures are worthy of study because they continue to speak
meaningfully to a later time and so demand an explanation for their historical
precociousness. Others merit attention because the gap between the popularity they achieved during their lifetime and their subsequent oblivion presents a
conundrum. The problem with this biography of Robert E. Speer is that the author, John F. Piper, Jr., professor of history and academic dean at Lycoming College (Pennsylvania), conflates these questions of historical significance.
During the first half of the twentieth century Speer was a handsome, popular, and commanding figure within mainline American Protestantism, working
primarily as the secretary of the Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A.’s Board of
Foreign Mission with stints of service in various administrative posts for the
Federal Council of Churches. The author of over fifty books, from popular devotional works such as Five Minutes a Day (1943) to theological treatments of
foreign missions like The Finality of Jesus Christ (1933), Speer was an indefatigable, even if not flashy, spokesman for a moderate form of belief that tried to
preserve as much of evangelical Protestantism as possible without offending either the older or younger generations of Presbyterians. So popular was Speer
from his position as church bureaucrat that in the Christian Century’s 1924
poll of the United States’ greatest preachers, Speer, a layman, finished in the top

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twenty-five. Among his other accomplishments, Speer was a leader in the ecumenical missionary conferences held at New York City (1900), Edinburgh
(1910), and Jerusalem (1928); he chaired the General War-Time Commission of
Churches during World War I; and in 1927 he served as moderator of the
PCUSA’s General Assembly. The list could go on.
Piper treats all of these aspects of Speer’s life with loving care. For the author
Speer was not only one of the most respected Protestant church leaders of his
time, but a Christian whose faith was a model in his own day and for believers
today. Unfortunately, this interpretation avoids the more pressing question of
why this Presbyterian layman and denominational executive, once so well regarded, passed quickly into obscurity. One could speculate on the reasons,
among them the dramatic reversal of the mainline denominations’ fortunes
since the 1960’s, not simply in membership statistics and financial resources,
but also as part of the WASP cultural establishment. From this perspective,
Speer is irrelevant because his time and position were so different. Indeed, to
some contemporary Presbyterians Speer’s views are as hopelessly conservative
as the fundamentalists’, while to others his prudential balance appears quaint.
But Piper, who knows the material much better, could well supply a plausible
explanation.
Instead of using Speer as a lens through which to see important changes in
American religious life and the role of the mainline churches,Piper abstracts his
subject from history by likening Speer to a prophet. Speer was a prophet of
American Christianity, from Piper’s perspective, because he followed Jesus
Christ and “spent his life inviting and challenging others to do the same” ( p.
439). As admirable as that task might be, it provides a remarkably thin analysis
of a figure’s historical significance. But because of Piper’s obvious esteem for
Speer,he fails to see just how inappropriate the metaphor of a prophet is. Speer
was a man known for tact, restraint, and moderation; he did not show the
prophetic zeal that often takes radical form. Indeed, Speer was responsible for
helping his own denomination along with the rest of the Protestant establishment to steer a middle course between the extremes of theological modernism
and fundamentalism. That makes him a figure of great importance at least to his
own era but hardly a prophet.
D. G. HART
Westminster Seminary in California

America’s Bishop: The Life and Times of Fulton J. Sheen. By Thomas C. Reeves.
(San Francisco, California: Encounter Books. 2001. Pp. vii, 479. $25.95.)
When Bishop Sheen spoke at the dedication of the Fulton Sheen Archives in
Rochester, New York, in 1976, he warned those gathered there to honor him
(and future historians by implication) of the difficulties inherent in trying to arrive at an understanding of the heart of his life, for there was no complete ex-

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planation to be found in that repository, in the books and tapes compiled over
a most productive lifetime. “You have to look for the secret from the outside,”
he said, suggesting that the only answer to his life was to be found in his faith,
and that a man is better known by his character than his writing. A fine effort
to arrive at an understanding of Sheen’s character, and the central place he deservedly occupies in the history of American Catholicism, can now be found in
America’s Bishop by Thomas C. Reeves.
Reeves, an experienced political historian and biographer, makes much of
the fact that there was no published book on the “life and times of Fulton
Sheen” until his appeared; that fact and his conversion to Catholicism inspired
him to write about the famous bishop. The broad outlines of Sheen’s story and
his multi-faceted career are presented well, from Sheen’s humble beginnings in
small-town El Paso, Illinois, in 1895 to his prominence as American Catholicism’s most famous prelate at the time of his death in New York City in 1979.
Monsignor John Tracy Ellis memorialized his friend as the “greatest evangelizer”
in the history of American Catholicism . . . the most eloquent exponent and effective champion of the faith in the United States—recognizing Sheen’s unparalleled odyssey as Thomistic philosopher, theologian, and professor at the
Catholic University of America, convert-maker and pioneer of the electronic
gospel on radio and television, missionary director of the National Society for
the Propagation of the Faith, and post-Vatican Council II bishop of Rochester
toward the close of his career.
The real contribution of Professor Reeves is to build upon this more familiar
foundation by digging deeper into Sheen’s life, providing a wealth of details
about his subject’s personal life. His research into hitherto unexplored areas
(e.g.,FBI files) and the number of personal interviews he conducted,is both impressive and enlightening. Throughout the book, Reeves seems determined to
reveal Fulton Sheen’s secrets, lamenting the fact that the bishop had not been
more forthcoming in his autobiography. At times, this tendency borders on gossip and sensationalism, and the minutiae can be a bit distracting—descriptions
of Sheen nicknamed “Spike” in high school because of his pompadour, and his
secretaries in New York as a “vivacious attractive redhead” and an “attractive
woman who wore her blond hair in a chignon” leave the reader wondering
about the relevance of hairstyles. A more revealing and valuable result of this investigative search is found in Reeves’s argument that a vain and ambitious
Sheen “invented” a second doctorate for himself, for he never earned the S.T.D.
and D.D. degrees that were added to his vita; this “shocking . . . deepest secret”
was not uncovered until Reeves tracked it down. His psychological speculations about Sheen’s motives notwithstanding, it does shed new light on the
character “flaw” of vanity which Monsignor Ellis wrote about in his memoirs.
Other valuable insights from Reeves are found in his treatment of Sheen’s vociferous and persistent opposition to the Communist menace, and his costly
“feud” with Francis Cardinal Spellman (the focus of the chapters entitled
“Backed Up Against the Cross” and “Exile in Rochester,” the end result of his

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389

clash with the powerful cardinal). New information on Sheen’s relationship
with J. Edgar Hoover, and the trials and tribulations “Fulton” suffered at the
hands of the powerful cardinal, including the end of his Emmy Award-winning
television show, make for very interesting reading (a quirky habit employed by
the author is his repeated assumption of this “first name basis” regarding Bishop
Sheen—a practice also employed in his repeated references to “Joe” and “Jack”
in his biographies of Senator Joseph McCarthy and President John F. Kennedy).
Overall, America’s Bishop presents a complete and balanced portrait of Fulton Sheen in all of his complexity and glory. Even after revealing his secrets, it
is clear that Reeves admires Bishop Sheen as both a religious and historical figure—a most fitting conclusion for a convert to reach. He had a wonderful story
to tell, and he has produced a judicious biography which will become a standard in the field of American Catholicism. (A final reservation: since the book’s
merits are quite obvious, it is puzzling that the publisher and author felt the
need to make the misleading and gratuitous claim—in the publicity and advertisements—that the book is based upon “the unearthing of new material at the
Sheen Archives in Rochester, New York”). The “Life and Times of Fulton Sheen”
have now been well-chronicled—a step in the right direction toward seeing
that Bishop Sheen enjoys his rightful place in the “spotlight” of American Catholic history.
KATHLEEN L. RILEY
Ohio Dominican College

Memories of an Old Country Priest. By Francis J. Weber. (Mission Hills, California: Saint Francis Historical Society. 2000. Pp. viii, 691.$35.00.)
The only thing that is confusing about Monsignor Francis Weber’s interesting
memoir is the title, Old Country Priest. In fact, by his own account, Weber is
anything but a rural pastor. By contrast, he has spent the totality of his priestly
ministry in one of the most heavily urbanized Catholic communities in the
United States: The Archdiocese of Los Angeles. Here the lines between development and hinterland had been erased long before the Weber family migrated
westward in the 1940’s.
One is struck by how typical the Webers were of the thousands who came to
California after World War II. Like so many other Californians, they migrated
from the snowy Midwest to find work and new opportunity in the Golden State.
The elder Weber went to work for a family-owned business, the Ritz Plumbing
Company, which provided a good wage and a respectable middle-class existence.Young “Frankie” was able to supplement his meager allowance with earnings from a Los Angeles Times paper route. Fortune smiled on the ambitious
lad, for among his grateful customers were Buffie Chandler, one of the owners
of the paper, and Archbishop James Francis McIntyre. During his high school

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and college years he worked for the Pierce Funeral Home, where he happened
to meet the legendary Catholic benefactress Estelle Doheny. These early contacts paid off. McIntyre would advance his clerical career, and Doheny’s foundation bestowed some money for historical research.
The core of this narrative is about the priesthood. Weber writes the book as
one “who has always enjoyed being a priest” and with a desire “to tell the world
how priesthood looks from the inside by someone who never wanted to be
anything else.” His vocation to the priesthood developed under the watchful
tutelage of the nuns and priests of St. Brendan’s parish on Third and Van Ness.
In 1946 he entered Los Angeles College, the preparatory seminary of the Archdiocese of Los Angeles. He was ordained to the priesthood in 1959 by his former paper-route customer, Cardinal James Francis McIntyre.
Weber’s career as a priest of the Archdiocese of Los Angeles was in many respects typical of clergy elsewhere: daily and Sunday Mass,“door” duty,sick calls,
confessions, counseling, and convert instructions. But his priestly ministry also
had a distinctively Southern California twist. At St. Victor’s parish in West Hollywood he came into frequent contact with a handful of Hollywood stars who
sought spiritual ministry. He gave convert instructions to the second wife of the
legendary Jimmy “The Schnozz” Durante, and was an occasional meal-time
guest of Loretta Young. He shared the rectory with the famous Monsignor John
Joseph Devlin, who had devised the codes of the Legion of Decency. Among
the other luminaries that passed through Weber’s life were figures as diverse as
historians Will and Ariel Durant and the bubbly blonde comedian Goldie Hawn.
In 1961 McIntyre sent Weber to the Catholic University of America,where he
worked with John Tracy Ellis. At Ellis’ insistence, he wrote extensively on Los
Angeles subjects—areas of historiographical interest that remained outside the
scope of the “mainstream” of American Catholic historiography. Weber’s published corpus includes substantial studies on virtually all the bishops/archbishops of Los Angeles. In imitation of Ellis’ work on Gibbons, Weber penned two
hefty volumes on Cardinal McIntyre that appeared in 1997.
But before he could write, Weber had to do the hard task of assembling
archival records. Given a small space in a cramped chancery annex at 9th and
Green Street, he single-handedly rescued many documents from oblivion (at
one point hiding some of them in his long-suffering father’s garage). He parlayed his rising prestige as a local historian to press for more and more room
and resources. Any archivist reading this account will readily recognize the
bleak conditions under which Weber had to work: the abrupt treatment by
“busy” chancery officials, the bemused disdain that priests “in the field” felt for
the curators of musty documents, and the occasional impression that bishops
gave in to a particular request for time,money,or space to get a pesky priest “off
their neck.” Fortunately for California Catholic history, Weber never gave up,
and subsequent historians will be forever indebted to his collection policies
and to the voluminous body of books and articles that he produced.

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391

Weber took a major role in popularizing the Catholic history of the Golden
State through a successful column on bits and pieces of historical data that ran
in the Los Angeles Tidings. Weber also collected memorabilia for a first-rate historical museum connected to the archival center built with a substantial grant
from the Daniel Donohue foundation in 1981 at Mission San Fernando. He even
helped to transfer the bodies of deceased California prelates, such as San Francisco archbishop Joseph Sadoc Alemany, to their rightful resting places with
their people.
Weber made contacts with the Jesuit historian John B. McGloin, the Franciscan Maynard Geiger, the Vincentian Newman Eberhardt, and a graduate school
classmate, James Gaffey; he became a close friend of Doyce Nunis of the University of Southern California. Like his mentor Ellis, he has generously encouraged the works of younger scholars. His love for the Church and his own grasp
of the sources have occasionally found him wading into controversial subjects
such as those surrounding the beatification of Fray Junípero Serra and Cardinal
McIntyre’s conflicts with the Sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary.
Weber’s work in historical studies gave him a bird’s eye view of many of the
important figures in Los Angeles Catholic life. His characterizations of them are
worth the price of the book. For example, he paints an accurate and balanced
picture of Cardinals McIntyre and Manning’s most trusted subaltern, Monsignor
Benjamin Hawkes. His depiction of the eloquent, yet always guarded, Timothy
Manning is always on target.
Weber’s autobiography, fortunately, does not contain an epilogue noting his
parting. He is still very much alive as this review is being written. Students of
California Catholic history, historians of clerical culture, and those interested in
the evolution of the field of American Catholic history will derive a great deal
from this well-written and entertaining memoir.
STEVEN M.AVELLA
Marquette University
Canadian
Storia del Canada: Dalle origini ai giorni nostri. By Luca Codignola and Luigi
= 12.39 paperback.)
Bruti Liberati. (Milan: Bompiani. 1999. Pp. 815. C
This book is a remarkable achievement by two Italian academics who have
dedicated most of their professional lives to the study of Canada. Codignola and
Bruti Liberati are professors of history, the first at the University of Genoa and
the second at the State University of Milan. A synthesis of Canadian history in
two parts, Storia del Canada bears the distinctive imprint of each author.
Codignola’s section covers the precolonial, colonial, and nation-building periods culminating in 1867 with Confederation that marks the union of the most
populous British North American colonies. His is a breathtaking and up-to-date

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BOOK REVIEWS

overview. With rare skill that in Canada has largely been stifled by the highly
specialized nature of the discipline, he integrates social and cultural themes
within a comparative Atlantic perspective. For instance, the development of
New France is discussed with reference to other British and French colonies in
North America and the Caribbean, as well as to the relative strengths and differing strategies of the colonizing powers. One can only concur with one reviewer’s assessment of this section as the finest synthesis available in any
language.
For his part, Bruti Liberati has given his shorter segment a clear political character, concentrating first on external relations, particularly with Canada’s successive metropolises, Great Britain and the United States, and then on domestic
politics. The direction changes somewhat abruptly in the final chapter which
provides a succinct and effective survey of the history of Italian Canadians.
Given the vast quantity of material published in all aspects of Canadian social
history over the last thirty years, as well as the particular interests of the Italian
reading public, Bruti Liberati’s choice of focus seems quite reasonable. However, the disparity between the two authors’ approaches is also glaringly evident.
Few of the many overviews of Canadian history published in the recent past
have succeeded in integrating religion into their narrative and certainly none
has done so more deftly than Storia del Canada. Although practitioners of religious history have hardly been idle especially in the last dozen or so years,
their work has largely been ignored by the broader community of historians
who have alternately viewed religion as being synonymous with discord, backwardness, or bigotry. By contrast Codignola and Bruti Liberati have both conducted extensive research in the Vatican Archives. The first has in fact spent the
better part of his career emphasizing how valuable a source the Archives are for
Canadian history.
Guided by the notion of cultural compromise, Codignola’s discussion of the
Huron-Jesuit encounter of the 1630’s and 1640’s is a sophisticated one that not
only takes into account Amerindian agency, but the Jesuits’ rich missionary experience elsewhere in the world. Equally at ease in his treatment of Catholicism
and Protestantism, he rightly emphasizes the crucial political and social roles
played by the Church in ensuring the survival of New France prior to 1650 and
the British North American colonies before 1840. In the final chapter on colonial consolidation after 1840 Codignola masterfully illustrates how a religious
consensus emerged around the twin poles of Catholic Ultramontanism and
Protestant Evangelicalism. Although both French and English Canadians used
these religious expressions as mutually exclusive nation-building tools, the
French Canadian minority were more dependent for their survival on the Catholic Church of Quebec, which ensured their territorial and national integrity
right up to the Quiet Revolution.
Religion is present,as it should be,in Bruti Liberati’s skillful discussion of two
major issues: the Manitoba Schools Question (1890–1897), a provincial dispute

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393

over denominational education that made Wilfrid Laurier the first French Canadian Prime Minister of the Dominion; and the Quiet Revolution (1960–1966)
that banished religion as an expression of national identity in Quebec and
ended the Catholic Church’s control of a vast array of health, social welfare, and
educational institutions. In my opinion, however, Bruti Liberati could have been
more attentive to the simultaneous and remarkably analogous development before World War I of Social Catholicism in Quebec and the Social Gospel in
English Canada. These movements inspired the political protest parties of the
1930’s that laid the foundations of the now beleaguered Welfare State in the
postwar years.
In any event, Storia del Canada is an impressive synthesis, a veritable tour de
force, that must be translated into English to make it accessible to a wide North
American audience.
ROBERTO PERIN
Glendon College
York University
Toronto, Canada
Chinese
China and Christianity: Burdened Past, Hopeful Future. Edited by Stephen
Uhalley, Jr., and Xioaxin Wu. (Armonk, New York: M. E. Sharpe. 2001. Pp.
xiii, 499. $79.95.)
This collection of essays is from a conference, by the same name, held at the
University of San Francisco in honor of Edward J. Malatesta, S.J., in October,
1999. The essays cover a range of topics from Christianity as the universal
teaching from the West and revelation in Confucian and Christian traditions to
Hungarian missionaries to China in the twentieth century and church-state relations in Hong Kong after 1997. Several of the essays deal with the Jesuit missionaries in the late Ming-early Qing period including those by Erik Zurcher,
John W. Witek, Han Qi, Robert Entenmann, Claudia von Collani, Paul A. Rule,
Nicolas Standaert, and Li Tiangang. These essays cover such diverse topics as
the image of Europe in China and its impact on the Chinese, cultural transmission, the question of whether heaven speaks, and the Rites Controversy in
seventeenth-century Sichuan.
Zhang Kaiyuan’s essay “Chinese Perspective-A Brief Review of the Historical
Research on Christianity in China,” divides Chinese scholars’ work into three
periods: before 1949, when he believes research on Catholic missionaries was
better than that on the Protestants, from 1949 to 1976, when “Chinese-Western
cultural communication was politicized” and research concentrated on antiforeign works, and since 1978, when the serious study of world religions has
again attracted Chinese interest with more than 1000 papers and 100 monographs on Christianity being produced in the last two decades, and interest in

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China’s Christian colleges has grown markedly. He notes there has been little
co-operation between Chinese and Western scholars on these topics and believes the work is still at “the starting line.”
Jessie G. Lutz provides a brief overview of the history of Protestant missionary work in China and the early efforts at indigenization. Two essays deal with
the question of Chinese folk religion and its relationship to Christianity. Ryan
Dunch’s contribution on the contemporary Protestant church sees the emergence of evangelists, often with little formal education, as the reason why so
many sects, some of them considered heretical by both mainstream churches
and the government, have appeared in recent years. Richard P. Madsen views
present-day Catholicism as a folk religion due to the emphasis many Chinese
give to its miraculous and apocalyptic aspects.
Two essays presented here offer new aspects of mission studies in English.
Dina V. Doubrovskaia writes on the Russian Orthodox Christians in China beginning with the Albazinians who were taken to Beijing in the late seventeenth
century as “guests” of the Kangxi Emperor. Supported later by Peter the Great,
the Russian Christians played an important part in Qing-Russian relations, particularly in the negotiation of treaties between the two countries. Peter Vamos’
essay deals with the Hungarian Jesuits who went to China in the early twentieth century and their desire to be recognized as an independent mission by
Rome, as well as the work of other Hungarian orders. The forty-four Hungarian
Protestant missionaries in the twentieth century were members either of the
China Inland Mission or one of the German-speaking mission societies.
Present-day relations between the Catholic Church and the government in
Hong Kong, and the state of Christianity in Taiwan are the subjects of essays by
Beatrice Leung and Peter Chien-main Wang. Leung argues that as Hong Kong’s
political status changes the Catholics in the city are in a difficult position because of their long involvement in English-based education and the new government’s insistence on education in the mother tongue and because Hong
Kong Catholics have long viewed themselves as a bridge between Chinese
Catholics and the larger church, a role the government no longer seems to
agree with. Wang notes the long relationship between the Presbyterian church
in Taiwan and indigenous political movements, which stems partly from the
Japanese occupation of the island just decades after the first missionaries arrived. He views the situation as growing more complicated by the arrival of
many mission groups from the mainland in the late 1940’s.
In total this volume offers scholars of China and Christianity a broad view of
the vast range of topics that the intersection of these two areas of study has
produced. The articles, by established scholars in the field, are a welcome addition to the growing literature on this important cross-cultural topic.
KATHLEEN L. LODWICK
Pennsylvania State University

BRIEF NOTICES

McCoog, Thomas M., S.J. A Guide to Jesuit Archives. [The Institute of Jesuit
Sources: Studies on Jesuit Topics, No. 23, Series IV; Institutum Historicum
Societatis Iesu,Subsidia ad Historiam Societatis Iesu,No. 12.] (St. Louis: The
Institute of Jesuit Sources. 2001. Pp. xii, 178. $19.95 paperback.)
A Guide to Jesuit Archives is the creation of Father Thomas M. McCoog, S.J.,
whose name is familiar to readers of this journal. Father Mark A. Lewis, S.J., Director of Archivum Historicum Societatis Jesu, and Father John W. Padberg, S.J.,
Director and General Editor of the Institute of Jesuit Sources, were very supportive during the preparation and publication of this reference tool.
In early 1998 McCoog sent a cover letter to all the Jesuit provincials and regional superiors with two questionnaires to be forwarded to the archivist
within their province or region. The first questionnaire asks the question:
should there be a conference to discuss the current state of archives within the
Society and, if the answer be yes , would they help organize the event? With a
positive response to the questionnaire, Reverend Father General Peter Hans
Kolvenbach approved the meeting of the group in October, 2001.
The second questionnaire was mailed to all the archivists of the Society in the
English, French, Italian, German, and Spanish languages. Unfortunately, not every
province or region responded! In addition to the usual questions, one finds information on access,restrictions,and major collections (no. 14). The response of
each province or region is published here in its original language with an English
translation. When a province, region, or mission did not respond, McCoog provided the postal address, fax number, and e-mail address taken from the respective province catalog. The reviewer was impressed with the various detailed
responses to the questionnaire,e.g.,the Japanese Province and the four-province
cluster arrangement of the Midwest Jesuit Archives (Missouri).
If another edition is published, the reviewer suggests that an appendix be
added listing the personal paper collections which are listed in the fourteenth
question, e.g., Constant Lievens, Thomas Betagh, Joseph Cataldo. If a selection
of major repositories which hold Jesuit records could be listed in another list,
that may be helpful to the researcher.
This Guide will be useful to anyone, Jesuit or non-Jesuit, researching the history of the Society of Jesus. The reviewer recommends that a copy be located
in the reference section of major public libraries and academic libraries
throughout the world.

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Father McCoog deserves resounding applause for master-minding this work
and bringing The Guide to the public in so short a time. MICHAEL GRACE, S.J. (Loyola University Chicago)

Thibert, Péronne-Marie, V.H.M. (Trans. and ed.). I Leave You My Heart: A Visitandine Chronicle of the French Revolution. Mère Marie-Jéronyme
Vérot’s Letter of 15 May 1794. (Philadelphia: Saint Joseph’s University
Press. 2000. Pp. x, 160. $24.95.)
Although much has been written about the role and experiences of the
French clergy—parish priests as well as higher clergy—the history of religious
sisters has largely been neglected. This has not been due to a lack of original
sources. Religious congregations have left vast archives depicting their daily
lives and inner experiences, but to date few scholars have availed themselves of
the riches contained in these documents. This chronicle is evidence that further study of these sources is well worth undertaking.
This long letter written by Mère Vérot in May, 1794, recounts the travails of
her religious community during the French Revolution. The cloistered nuns,
members of the Order of Visitation founded by Francis de Sales and Jeanne de
Chantal in 1610, were not prepared for the Revolution and remained fiercely
loyal to the king and the hierarchy of the Church. The letter vividly depicts the
devastating effect on the Visitandine sisters of the Revolution’s anticlerical measures: the suspension of religious vows, the confiscation of church property, the
indignity of the imposed “constitutional” bishops, and the tragic massacre of
priests, including some known to Mère Vérot’s community.
Nonetheless, this is not a chronicle of martyrdom but focuses rather on the
determination of the sisters to remain faithful to their vows. Mère Vérot saw
their intensified devotions as responsible for their ultimate means of escape—
a providential request that they establish a convent in Mantua, Italy. In describing the perilous and arduous journey to Mantua, Mère Vérot focuses on the
most triumphant aspect of their escape: the highly secret transfer to Mantua of
the Visitandines’ most valued possession, the heart of St. Francis de Sales. The
courage and ingenuity required to accomplish this should go far to dispel the
image of passive, submissive nuns.
While the tenor of Mère Vérot’s letter is controlled and self-effacing, she
nonetheless conveys the feelings she and her fellow nuns experienced throughout these upheavals. She describes the quiet weeping that accompanied prescribed periods of prayer following the decree suspending religious vows as
well as the spirited resistance the nuns demonstrated whenever possible. After
one visit by municipal officials trying to enforce revolutionary decrees, the officers exclaimed, “you women could tame tigers!” And by the time the sisters
reach their destination in Mantua and are able to once again don their religious
habits, the reader shares in the joy they feel.

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397

This chronicle is accompanied by an insightful introduction that places the
letter in its historical context and outlines the unique focus of the Visitation
community. Mère Vérot’s letter is but one extract from a twelve-volume collection of biographies from the Visitation order. It is to be hoped that more will be
made available to the public. JO ANN BROWNING SEELEY (Alexandria, Virginia)

Walker, Randi Jones. Emma Newman: Frontier Woman Minister. [Women and
Gender in North American Religions.] (Syracuse: Syracuse University
Press. 2000. Pp. xxiii, 200.)
Randi Jones Walker’s account of Emma Newman, a little-known Congregational preacher, addresses a current topic in American religious history, the impact of women as the builders of a faith. The book rests on the tripod of
Protestantism, gender, and geography. Walker draws on a rich collection of previously untapped Newman papers to argue that the nineteenth-century ministry of an individual woman reflected patterns of female leadership, rather
than personal exceptionalism.
The strongest feature of this book is the narrative that weaves together the
forces of spirituality and gender. Walker makes a good case for the effectiveness
of a female ministry, illuminating Newman’s personal history and professional
efforts as a pastor who merged her spiritual message with an interest in homeopathy. Although the text is burdened by overly long quotations, this slim volume conveys the way in which one woman crafted a presence as a minister,
despite physical hardship and social barriers.
The weakest element rises out of attributing the evolution of Newman’s ministerial persona to the impact of geography. Many would question whether, in
years pushing toward the twentieth century, rural Illinois could be called “the
West,” or urban Kansas and Los Angeles should be labeled as “frontier.” Although
the ideas of some western scholars are mentioned, the work has little substantive grounding in the concepts of regional history,consequently stumbling with
its sweeping assertions about the West.
Those intrigued by the possible interplay between Congregationalists and
Roman Catholics in Newman’s life will need to look elsewhere. Catholics are
considered in passing, as the immigrants from alien cultures that so worried
many Protestant authorities of the era.
Despite these shortcomings, this is an important book for its sensitive portrayal of the pastoral talents and life experiences of a woman undaunted by the
institutional obstructions that often blocked her spiritual and employment
path. ANNE M. BUTLER (Utah State University)

Wright, J. Robert. Saint Thomas Church Fifth Avenue. (Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company. 2001. Pp. xiv, 313. $65.00.)

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BRIEF NOTICES

Jan Morris, the British travel writer, wrote in Manhattan ’45 that the most
fashionable place to view the Easter Parade was outside St. Thomas Church. She
was unaware that the Easter Parade may actually have originated on that spot in
the 1880’s when parishioners brought flowers from the church to the patients
in nearby St. Luke’s hospital. Father J. Robert Wright, professor of church history at General Theological Seminary and a canon of the Cathedral of St. John
the Divine, has written a meticulously documented history of the church,
which originated in 1823 in a simple room in lower Manhattan. In 1868 it
moved uptown to its present location at 5th Avenue and 53rd Street, only two
blocks north of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, which had made the same move uptown
ten years earlier.
The present (fourth) St. Thomas Church, consecrated in 1916, is a Gothic
masterpiece, the result of the combined talents of Ralph Adams Cram and
Bertram Grosvenor Goodhue. Cram, a devout Anglo-Catholic, designed an authentically Gothic structure, built entirely of masonry, but steel beams had to be
added later. In the nineteenth century St. Thomas was a center of the High
Church Anglicanism championed in New York by Bishop John Henry Hobart,
and Cram would be delighted to see that this heritage has been recovered and
emphasized in his church since the 1970’s by the last two rectors.
At times the author seems a bit embarrassed by the wealth of the church,
which increased its endowment even during the Great Depression and retained
pew rents until 1961. However, for almost a century, St. Thomas maintained a
free chapel in New York City and in some years donated as much as eighty percent of its income to charity and the missions. In the 1920’s the New York
Times described St. Thomas Church as “one of the largest, wealthiest and most
benevolent Episcopal congregations in America.” In 1996 it possessed an endowment of “well over one hundred million dollars.”
Readers will be grateful to Father Wright for giving so much attention to the architectural details, especially the magnificent reredos, and to the rich musical tradition of the church,which maintains the last residential choir school in America.
The book itself is a sumptuous production, beautifully designed, lavishly illustrated, and worthy of its subject. THOMAS J. SHELLEY (Fordham University)

408

NOTES AND COMMENTS

History of the Parishes of the Archdiocese of Chicago, which was published in
two volumes (1,759 pages) in 1980, and in the following year he brought out
Caritas Christi Urget Nos: A History of the Offices, Agencies, and Institutions
of the Archdiocese of Chicago, also in two volumes (1,224 pages). No other
American diocese can boast of having its institutional record preserved in such
detail.
Monsignor Koenig was interred in the small cemetery at the seminary. In his
last will he bequeathed to the American Catholic Historical Association the sum
of $50,000, which will be invested as a fund to finance an annual prize for a
book in Catholic biography. At its next meeting the Executive Council will establish the appropriate norms for awarding the prize.

Correction
In the review of The Frontiers and Catholic Identities, edited by Anne M.
Butler, Michael E. Engh, S.J., and Thomas W. Spalding, C.F.X., which was published ante, LXXXVII (October, 2001), 764–765, the sections of the book prepared by Father Engh and Brother Spalding have been reversed. The latter
covers the “backwoods frontier” of Kentucky and the Old Northwest; Father
Engh was responsible for the Pacific slope and the Southwest. In the penultimate paragraph Father Engh’s Christian name should have been given as
Michael.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

General and Miscellaneo u s
La noción de historia en las encíclicas de Juan Pablo II y su continuidad con el
Vaticano II. Sergio Silva G. Teología y Vida, XLII (3, 2001), 292–326.
La “Nota” vaticana su Antonio Rosmini. La Civiltà Cattolica, 152, IV (Oct. 20,
2001), 107–115.
Os Jubileus da Igreja em Portugal (no tempo da Monarquia). Henrique Pinto
Rema. Itinerarium, XLVII (May–Aug. 2001), 255–279.
Catholic Church Politics and Evolution Theory, 1894–1902. Barry Brundell.
British Journal for the History of Science, 34 (Mar., 2001), 81–95.
Zur Geschichte der Polnischen Nationalen Katholischen Kirche in den USA und
Polen in den Jahren 1920–1939. Wiktor Wysoczanski. Internationale
Kirchliche Zeitschrift, 91 ( July–Sept., 2001), 177–195.
La nazionalità dei frati Servi di Maria nella seconda metà del Novecento. Odir
Jacques Dias. Studi Storici dell’ Ordine dei Servi di Maria, XLIX (1–2,1999),
97–122.
Los documentos franciscanos de los conventos de la Corona de Aragón en el
Archivo Histórico Nacional. Ana Sanz de Bremond Mayáns. Archivo IberoAmericano, 61 (Sept.–Dec., 2001), 371–498.
Catalogues de manuscripts latins. Inventaire hagiographique (Vingt-quatrième
série). Joseph Van Der Straeten. Analecta Bollandiana, 119 (Dec., 2001),
383–409.
Catalogo dell’Archivio di Santa Maria Novella in Firenze. Emilio Panella, O.P.
Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, LXX (2000), 11–242.
Bibliography on the History of the Sociey of Jesus. László Polgár, S.J., and Nicoletta Basilotta. Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu, LXX ( July–Dec.,
2001), 265–579.
La chiesa titolare dei Ss. Marcellino e Pietro. Una revisione sulla base di nuovi
documenti. Claudia Angelelli. Rivista di Archeologia Cristiana, LXXVI
(1–2, 2000), 287–350.
The Schottenklöster in Southern Germany. Tomás Ó Fiaich. Seanchas Ard
Mhacha, 18 (2, 2001), 31–46.

409

410

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Ancient
La terminologia relativa ai luoghi di culto nel Liber Pontificalis. Da Pietro a Pelagio II. Paola De Santis. Vetera Christianorum, 38 (1, 2001), 41–83.
The Martyrdom of Polycarp: Death in the Roman Games. Leonard L. Thompson.
Journal of Religion, 82 ( Jan., 2002), 27–52.
Didaché e origini cristiane. Una bibliografia per lo studiio della Didaché nel
contesto del guidaismo cristiano. Marcello Del Verme. Vetera Christianorum, 38 (1, 2001), 5–39.
“Scientia punienda”: L’accusa di magia nel passaggio dal paganesimo al cristianesimo. Francesca Bulgarini. Nuova Rivista Storica, LXXXV (May–Aug.,
2001), 215–234.
Exclusions from the Catechumenate: Continuity or Discontinuity with Pagan
Cult? Matthew W. Dickie. Numen, XLVIII (4, 2001), 417–443.
The Canons of Ancyra and Caesarea (314): Lebon’s Thesis Revisited. Sara Parvis.
Journal of Theological Studies, 52 (Oct., 2001), 625–636.
“Christ in the Desert”—A Response. Tim Vivian. American Benedictine Review, 52 (Dec., 2001), 393–420.
Celebrating the Martyrs: Early Christian Liturgy and the Martyr Cult in Fourth
Century Cappadocia and Pontus. Johan Leemans. Questions Liturgiques,
82 (4, 2001), 247–267.
“Taste and See”: The Eucharist and the Eyes of Faith in the Fourth Century.
Georgia Frank. Church History, 70 (Dec., 2001), 619–643.
Le monachisme dans les îles de la Méditerranée nord-occidentale. Jacques
Biarne. Rivista di Archeologia Cristiana, LXXVI (1–2, 2000), 351–374.
Il fenomeno monastico nelle isole minori del mar Tirreno dal IV al IX secolo.
Fonti letterarie ed evidenze archeologiche. Barbara Mazzei and Francesca
Severini. Rivista di Archeologia Cristiana, LXXVI (1–2, 2000), 621–650.
Translating Relics: Victricius of Rouen and Fourth-Century Debate. Gillian
Clark. Early Medieval Europe, 10 (2, 2001), 161–176.
Multis enim notissima est sanctitas loci: Paulinus and the Gradual Rise of Nola
as a Center of Christian Hospitality. Sigrid H. Mratschek. Journal of Early
Christian Studies, 9 (Winter, 2001), 511–533.
L’itinéraire religieux de l’impératrice Eudocie: Du paganisme à un christianisme
éclaté, I. L’étape de Constantinople. Émilien Lamirande. Science et Esprit,
53 (May–Aug., 2001), 309–328.
The Origins of Christian Commemoration in Late Antique Britain. Mark A. Handley. Early Medieval Europe, 10 (2, 2001), 177–199.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

411

Giving the Heretic a Voice: Philostorgius of Borissus and Greek Ecclesiastical
Historiography. Eran I. Argov. Athenaeum, 89 (2, 2001), 497–524.
Pratiques et vénération orientales et occidentales des images chrétiennes dans
L’Antiquité tardive: á propos de quelques ambiguïtés. Nathalie Delierneux.
Revue Belge de Philologie et d’Histoire, 79 (2, 2001), 373–420.
Medieval
Leontius of Jerusalem, a Theologian of the Seventh Century. Dirk Krausmüller.
Journal of Theological Studies, 52 (Oct., 2001), 637–657.
Byzantium through Armenian Eyes: Cultural Appropriation and the Church of
Zuart‘noc‘. Christina Maranci. Gesta, XL (2, 2001), 105–124.
The Canon of Bede’s Works and the World of Ps. Bede. Michael Gorman. Revue
Bénédictine, 111 (3–4, 2001), 399–445.
Alle origini della parrocchia rurale nel Molise: prime testimonianze di edifici di
culto nell’area della diocesi di Trivento. Francesca Cristini. Rivista di
Archeologia Cristiana, LXXVI (1–2, 2000), 375–404.
Alle origini della parrochia rurale nel territorio dell’antica diocesi di Valva.
Francesca Di Renzo. Rivista di Archeologia Cristiana, LXXVI (1–2, 2000),
405–427.
Zum Abtswahlprivileg König Pippins für das Koster Prüm von 762. Wolfgang
Eric Wagner. Deutsches Archiv für Erforschung des Mittelalters, 57 (1,
2001), 149–156.
Hagiographie et historiographie mérovingienne dans la musique liturgique en
Gaule septentrionale (VIIIe et IXe siècles). Jean-François Goudesenne. Revue
du Nord, 83 (July–Sept., 2001), 485–517.
Faith and Politics in Early Medieval Society: Charlemagne and the Frustrating
Failure of an Ecclesiological Project. Steven Vanderputten. Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, 96 ( July–Dec., 2001), 311–330.
The Meaning of Theodulf’s Apse Mosaic at Germigny-des Prés. Ann Freeman
and Paul Meyvaert. Gesta, XL (2, 2001), 125–139.
Rituel politique et imaginaire au haut Moyen Âge. Philippe Buc. Revue Historique, CCCVI (Oct.–Dec., 2001), 843–883.
The Church Slavonic Life of St. Thaddaios the Martyr of the Second Iconoclasm.
Dmitry Afinogenov. Analecta Bollandiana, 119 (Dec., 2001), 313–338.
Illness, Power and Prayer in Asser’s Life of King Alfred. Paul Kershaw. Early Medieval Europe, 10 (2, 2001), 201–224.
Quando il doge diventa santo: Fede e politica nell’esperienza di Pietro I Orseolo. Gherardo Ortalli. Studi Veneziani, XLI (2001), 15–48.

412

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Istituzioni ecclesiastiche e vita religiosa in Sicilia dalla conquista normanna alla
fine del Medioevo. Gian Luca Potestà. Ho Theológos, XIX (2, 2001),
223–246.
Verstreute Bemerkungen zur Organisation des Klosterbaues im Mittelalter.
Wolfgang Schöller.Archiv für Kulturgeschichte, 83 (2, 2001), 261–277.
Mönche, Chorherren oder Pfarrer? Die Prämonstratenserstifte Humilimont und
Gottstatt im Vergleich. Kathryn Utz Tremp. Zeitschrift für Schweizerische
Kirchengeschichte, 95 (2001), 111–136.
The Military Orders and the Conversion of Muslims in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries. Alan Forey. Journey of Medieval History, 28 (1, 2002),
1–22.
Pourquoi les moines du moyen âge écrivaient-ils de l’histoire? Une approche
socio-constructiviste du problème. Steven Vanderputten. Studi Medievali,
XLII (Dec., 2001), 705–723.
“Replanting Paradise”: Alexander I and the Reform of Religious Life in Scotland.
Kenneth Veitch. Innes Review, LII (Autumn, 2001), 136–166.
L’abbé Suger de Saint-Denis: Mémoire et perpétuations des œuvres humaines.
Françoise Gasparri. Cahiers de Civilisation Médiévale, 44 ( July–Sept.,
2001), 247–257.
Otage de l’historiographie: l’Ordo prophetarum en Italie. Dorothy F. Glass.
Cahiers de Civilisation Médiévale, 44 ( July–Sept., 2001), 259–273.
Voices from a Distant Land: Fragments of a Twelfth-Century Nuns’ Letter Collection. Alison I. Beach. Speculum, 77 ( Jan., 2002), 34–54.
Sermon, Preacher and Society in the Middle Ages. Carolyn Muessig. Journal of
Medieval History, 28 (1, 2002), 73–91.
Percorso storico e significato del monachesimo benedettino nell’Expositio vite
et regule Benedicti di Gioacchino da Fiore. Valeria De Fraja. Cristianesimo
nella storia, XXII ( June, 2001), 381–435.
Hirelings and Shepherds,Archbishop Berenguer of Narbonne (1191–1211) and
the Ideal Bishop. Elaine Graham-Leigh. English Historical Review, CXVI
(Nov., 2001), 1083–1102.
Ordres mendiants et renouveau spirituel du bas Moyen Âge (fin du XII es. –XVe
s.). Esquisses d’historiographie. Paul Bertrand. Le Moyen Age, CVII (2,
2001), 305–315.
Papst—Metropolit—Bischof um 1200. Zur Verzögerung der Weihe des Elekten
Heinrich von Straßburg. Rainer Murauer. Römische Historiche Mitteilungen, 43 (2001), 257–310.
I glossatori di fronte al diritto canonico: matrimonio e divorzio nella riflessione
di Azzone (†1220 ca.). Giuliano Marchetto. Annali dell’Istituto storico
italo-germanico in Trento, XXVI (2000), 53–109.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

413

Franciscans at Work. David Flood, O.F.M. Franciscan Studies, 59 (2001), 21–62.
Poverty Legislation and Mutual Relations in the Early Franciscan Movement.
Joan Mueller, TOR. Collectanea Franciscana, 71 (3–4, 2001), 389–419.
Religious Habits and Visual Propaganda: The Vision of the Blessed Reginald of
Orléans. Cordelia Warr. Journal of Medieval History, 28 (Mar., 2002),
43–72.
The Evolution of Dominican Structures of Government. II: The First Dominican
Provinces. Simon Tugwell, O.P. Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, LXX
(2000), 5–109.
Establishment, Identity and Papal Approval: The Carmelite Order’s Creation of
Its Legendary History. Richard Copsey, O. Carm. Carmelus, 47 (1, 2000),
41–53.
Lost in Sacred Space: Textual Hermeneutics, Liturgical Worship, and Celano’s
Legenda ad Usum Chori. Timothy Johnson. Franciscan Studies, 59
(2001), 109–131.
The Irish Franciscans and Education in Late Medieval Times and the Early
Counter-Reformation, 1230–1630. Benignus Millet, O.F.M. Seanchas Ard
Mhacha, 18 (2, 2001), 1–30.
Medieval Christendom’s Encounter with the Alien. Peter Jackson. Historical Research, LXXIV (Nov., 2001), 347–369.
The Spalding Priory Operarii in the Thirteenth Century. E. D. Jones. Nottingham Medieval Studies, XLV (2001), 51–67.
Should I Stay or Should I Go? Robert Burnell,the Lord Edward’s Crusade and the
Canterbury Vacancy of 1270–3. Richard Huscroft. Nottingham Medieval
Studies, XLV (2001), 97–109.
Was Medical Theory Heterodox in the Latin Middle Ages? The Plurality Theses
of Paul of Venice and the Medical Authorities, Galen Haly Abbas and Averroès. G. McAleer. Recherches de Théologie et Philosophie médiévales,
LXVIII (2, 2001), 349–370.
L’abito religioso e il suo significato presso i Servi e le Serve di santa Maria (secoli XIII–XVI). Franco Andrea Dal Pino. Studi Storici dell’Ordine dei Servi
di Maria, XLIX (1–2, 1999), 7–32.
Risky Business: Theological and Canonical Thought on Insurance from the Thirteenth to the Seventeenth Century. Giovani Ceccarelli. Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies, 31 (Fall, 2001), 607–658.
The Letters of the Last Two Templar Masters. Alan Forey. Nottingham Medieval
Studies, XLV (2001), 145–171.
L’inquisizione e Dante: alcune osservazioni. Maria Picchio Simonelli. Dante
Studies, CXVIII (2000), 303–321.

414

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Bologna, il giubileo in età medievale e l’ospitalità. Maria Rosaria Musti. Nuova
Rivista Storica, LXXXV (May–Aug., 2001), 235–290.
Contributi allo studio della scultura eburnea trecentesca in Italia: Venezia.
Michele Tomasi. Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, IV (1,
1999), 221–246.
Eden Regained: William of Ockham and the Franciscan Return to Terrestrial Paradise. Guy Geltner. Franciscan Studies, 59 (2001), 63–89.
Tra grande peste e giubileo: lasciti in favore dei frati Servi di santa Maria a Sansepolcro (1347–1350). Andrea Czortek. Studi Storici dell’Ordine dei Servi di
Maria, XLIX (1–2, 1999), 123–182.
Eiximenis, Fra Dolcino and the “Malvat hom.” David J. Viera Jordi PiquéAngordans. Antonianum, LXXVI (Oct.–Dec., 2001), 729–746.
The Complex Nature of Catholicism in the Renaissance. Francesco D. Cesareo.
Renaissance Quarterly, LIV, No. 4.2 (Winter, 2001), 1561–1573.
The Avenging Crucifix: Some Observations on the Iconography of the Living
Cross. Achim Timmerman. Gesta, XL (2, 2001), 141–160.
Les fiançailles dans le rituel matrimonial de la noblesse française à la fin du
Moyen Âge: tradition laïque ou création ecclésiastique. Geneviève Ribordy.
Revue Historique, CCCVI (Oct.–Dec., 2001), 885–911.
Seeing Double: John Gerson, the Discernment of Spirits, and Joan of Arc. Dyan
Elliott. American Historical Review, 107 (Feb., 2002), 26–54.
Die Kirche von Brixen zur Heiligen Schrift hinführen. Die Brixener Predigten
des Nikolaus Cusanus. Wilhelm Egger. Trierer Theologische Zeitschrift,110
(4, 2001), 294–307.
Der Zürcher Ablasstraktat des Albert von Weissenstein (1480). Christian Moser
and David Vitali. Zeitschrift für Schweizerische Kirchengeschichte, 95
(2001), 49–109.
Sixteenth Century
La vision des juifs chez Jean Lemaire de Belges. D’un argument polémique contre Jules II. Françoise Pichon. Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, 96
( July–Dec., 2001), 333–371.
Nuns, Images, and the Ideals of Women’s Monasticism: Two Paintings from the
Cistercian Convent of Flines. Andrea G. Pearson. Renaissance Quarterly,
LIV, No. 4.2 (Winter, 2001), 1356–1402.
Bursfelders. Humanists, and the Rhetoric of Sainthood: The Late Medieval Vitae
of Saint Benno. David J. Collins. Revue Bénédictine, 111 (3–4, 2001),
508–556.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

415

Eucharistic Sacrifice and the Social Imagination in Early Modern Europe.
William T. Cavanaugh. Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies, 31
(Fall, 2001), 585–605.
Henrik d. 8’s nationalkirkelige reformation. J. J. Brusen Rasmussen. Dansk Teologisk Tidsskrift, 64 (4, 2001), 241–261.
John Bird, Giacomo Calco, Giambattista Pallavicini and the King’s Great Matter.
Kevin Alban, O.Carm. Carmelus, 47 (1, 2000), 109–116.
Vivere la confessione nell’Ordine cappuccino dal Cinquecento al Settecento.
Mariam Turrini. Collectanea Franciscana, 71 (3–4, 2001), 447–492.
Racking the Body, Shaping the Text: The Account of Anne Askew in Foxe’s
“Books of Martyrs.” Thomas S. Freeman and Sarah Elizabeth Wall. Renaissance Quarterly, LIV, No. 4.1 (Winter, 2001), 1165–1196.
“Fiery Toungues”: Language, Liturgy, and the Paradox of the English Reformation. Timothy Rosendale. Renaissance Quarterly, LIV, No. 4.1 (Winter,
2001), 1142–1164.
Carnival in Rouen: A History of the Abbaye des Conards. Dylan Reid. Sixteenth
Century Journal, XXXII (Winter, 2001), 1027–1055.
Un improbabile diplomatico: Fulvio Orsini. Federica Matteini. Annali della
Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, IV (2, 1999), 539–553.
Felipe II frente a la reforma de monasterios y abadías regulares de la Corona
de Castilla. José García Oro and Ma José Portela Silva. Archivo IberoAmericano, LXI ( Jan.–Aug., 2001), 1–163.
A proposito di Matteo 18.15. Correctio fraterna e Inquisizione nella Spagna del
Cinquecento. Stefania Pastore. Rivista Storica Italiana, CXIII (Aug., 2001),
323–368.
From Martin Bucer to Richard Baxter.“Discipline” and Reformation in Sixteenthand Seventeenth-Century England. J. William Black. Church History, 70
(Dec., 2001), 644–673.
Los conflictos de Milán (1567–70). Cartas de S. Carlos Borromeo al Nuncio en
España Mons. Juan Bautista Castagna, Arzobispo de Rossano. J. Ignacio Tellechea Idígoras. Scriptorium Victoriense, XLVII ( Jan.–June, 2000), 47–127.
El convento de San Bernardino de Madrid de franciscanos descalzos. Carmen
Soriano Triguero and Paloma Vázquez Valdivia. Archivo Ibero-Americano,
LXI (Jan.–Aug., 2001), 251–271.
Heretics or Nonconformists? State Policies toward Anabaptists in SixteenthCentury Hesse. David Mayes. Sixteenth Century Journal, XXXII (Winter,
2001), 1003–1026.
The Preface of The Book of Concord as a Reflection of Sixteenth-Century Confessional Development. Irene Dingel. Lutheran Quarterly, XV (Winter,
2001), 373–395.

416

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

The Formula of Concord and Contemporary Anabaptists, Spiritualists and Antitrinitarians. Robert Kolb. Lutheran Querterly, XV (Winter, 2001), 453–482.
Un artista di fine Cinquecento: fra Giovanni Vincenzo Casali dei Servi. Orietta
Lanzarini. Studi Storici dell’Ordine dei Servi di Maria, XLIX, (1–2, 1999),
33–80.
Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries
Vida Cristã em Carnide no período áureo do Santuário da Luz—1600–1749 (na
perspectiva dos visitadores diocesanos). António de Sousa Araújo. Itinerarium, XLVII (May–Aug., 2001), 281–331.
L’ambassade d’Antoine Renault auprès des Églises sœurs de Suisse et d’Allemagne (1603–1607). Françoise Chevalier. Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du Protestantisme Français, 147 (Oct.–Dec., 2001), 579–625.
Dall’imposizione del silenzio alla ‘guerra delle scritture’: Le pubblicazioni ufficiali durante l’interdetto del 1606–1607. Filippo de Vivo. Studi Veneziani,
XLI (2001), 179–213.
Los frailes descalzos. La nueva reforma del Barroco (conclusión). José García
Oro and Ma José Portela Silva. Archivo Ibero-Americano, 61 (Sept.–Dec.,
2001), 499–570.
Die Provinzkapitelsakten der Teutonia von Landshut 1614 und Köln 1617: Kommentar und Edition. Klaus Bernward Springer. Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, LXX (2000), 243–335.
Jacques Sirmond et les débuts du bollandisme. Bernard Joassart. Analecta Bollandiana, 119 (Dec., 2001), 345–356.
Gli Scritti di Federico Borromeo sul metodo degli studi. Roberta Ferro. Aevum,
LXXV (Sept.–Dec., 2001), 737–758.
Galileo and Spinoza; Heroes, Heretics, and Hermeneutics. T. M. Rudavsky. Journal of the History of Ideas, 62 (Oct., 2001), 611–631.
Livres et papiers de Philippe Duplessis-Mornay, le destin de la “petite bibliothèque” de La Forêt-sur-Sèvre. Hugues Daussy and Pierre Gourdin. Bulletin
de la Société de l’Histoire du Protestantisme Français, 147 (Oct.–Dec.,
2001), 629–651.
The Restoration of Altars in the 1630s. Kenneth Fincham. Historical Journal,
44 (Dec., 2001), 919–940.
“A Dangerous Zeal”: Catholic Missions to Slaves in the French Antilles, 1635–
1800. Sue Peabody. French Historical Studies, 25 (Winter, 2002), 53–90.
Les religieuses de la Visitation Sainte-Marie de la ville d’Amiens aux SVIIe et
XVIIIe siècles. Sophie Collette. Revue du Nord, 83 ( July–Sept., 2001),
519–540.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

417

Fashioning Victims: Dr. Henry Jones and the Plight of Irish Protestants, 1642.
Joseph Cope. Historical Research, LXXIV (Nov., 2001), 370–391.
The Church Settlement of Oliver Cromwell. Jeffrey R. Collins. History, 87 ( Jan.,
2002), 18–40.
Relación de fray Francisco Epifanio Cedó sobre el estado de la provincia Española de los Siervos de María (1667). Vicente Lorente Pérez. Studi Storici
dell’Ordine dei Servi di Maria, XLIX (1–2, 1999), 185–220.
Colegio franciscano de misiones populares de Sahagún (1680) según un manuscrito del año 1805. Taurino Burón Castro. Archivo Ibero-Americano, LXI
( Jan.–Aug., 2001), 165–250.
Meu Menino Lindo: Cartas de Amor de um Frade Sodomita, Lisboa (1690). Luiz
Mott. Luso-Brazilian Review, 38 (Winter, 2001), 97–115.
Materialen zur Kunsttätigkeit der gegenreformatorischen Orden in Österreich
und in anderen Ländern der Habsburgermonarchie bis 1800. VIII. Das
Archiv des Piaristenordens (Fortsetzung). Jörg Garms. Römische Historiche
Mitteilungen, 43 (2001), 631–651.
Gli Scolopi nel Mezzogiorno d’Italia in età moderna. Alberto Tanturri. Archivum
Scholarum Piarum, XXV (No. 50, 2001), 1–221.
The Church of England in the Eighteenth Century. Viviane Barrie. Historical Research, LXXV (Feb., 2002), 47–72.
Architettura della gloria—architettura della memoria. La committenza asburgicopraghese per la festa di canonizzazione di Giovanni Nepomuceno e l’eredità del progetto di Borromini per la facciata di San Giovanni in Laterano.
Tommaso Manfredi. Römische Historiche Mitteilungen, 43 (2001),
561–586.
La Chiesa toscana e la pietà illuminata. Mario Rosa. Archivio Storico Italiano,
CLIX (3, 2001), 547–589.
I Fratelli laici redentoristi delle origini. Alcuni medaglioni. Sante Raponi, C.SS.R.
Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., XLIX (2, 2001), 411–437.
Otto lettere inedite di S. Alfonso. Giuseppe Orlandi, C.SS.R. Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., XLIX (2, 2001), 457–474.
Le missioni popolari nel Sud e le iniziative del gruppo fondato da L. Fiorillo, O.P.
(† 1737). Michele Miele, O.P. Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, LXX
(2000), 365–443.
Cofradía de sacerdotes en los Valles de Arraya y La Minoria en honor de la
Purísima Concepción de la Virgen María. José Iturrate. Scriptorium Victoriense, XLVII ( Jan.–June, 2000), 167–214.
Zeremoniell, alte Praxis und “neuer Geist”. Zum Verhalten der Herrscher und
Regierungen in Wien und Florenz zu den Nuntien. Beispiele aus den Jahren

418

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

um 1760. Fridolin Dörrer. Römische Historiche Mitteilungen, 43 (2001),
587–630.
Una Visitandina del Settecento divulgatrice dell’Istituto alfonsiano in Europa.
Angelomichele DeSpirito. Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., XLIX (2, 2001),
439–455.
“A Species of False Religion”: William Robertson, Catholic Relief and the Myth
of Modern Tolerance. Alexander Du Toit. Innes Review, LII (Autumn,
2001), 167–188.
Klemens Maria Hofbauer. Profil eines Heiligen. Hans Schermann, C.SS.R. Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., XLIX (2, 2001), 281–313.
Das Hofbauerbild im Wandel. Otto Weiss. Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., XLIX
(2, 2001), 315–348.
Bibliografia hofbauriana. Adam Owczarski, C.SS.R. Spicilegium Historicum
C.SS.R., XLIX (2, 2001), 475–553.

Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries
Maine de Biran entre la Révolution et l’Empire. André Dartigues. Bulletin de Littérature Ecclésiastique, CII (Oct.–Dec., 2001), 355–370.
El estudio de la lengua árabe entre los franciscanos de Marruecos: Fr. Pedro
Martín del Rosario (1771–1854). Ramón Lourido Díaz. Archivo IberoAmericano, 61 (Sept.–Dec., 2001), 283–370.
Das Pfarrdorf Langengeisling zur Sailerzeit. Die Pfarrherren Joseph Bruninger
(1813–1816) und Thomas Mayer (1817–1827). Claudius Stein. Münchener
Theologische Zeitschrift, 52 (4, 2001), 356–378.
M. Victor Régis, le P. Libermann et le Dahomey (1841–1846). Pierre Trichet. Mémoire Spiritaine, No. 14 (2, 2001), 15–43.
“Der Kommunismus und die Hilfe gegen ihn.” Das antikommunistiche Manifest
Wicherns als Grundlage der berühmten Wittenberger Stegreifrede Wicherns und als verhängnisvolles Erbe der Inneren Mission. Hans-Jürgen Benedict. Evangelische Theologie, 61 (6, 2001), 455–475.
The Pope’s First American Visit [Pius IX aboard the USS Constitution in 1848].
Tyrone G. Martin. Naval History, 15 (Dec., 2001), 46–49.
John Geddie, John Inglis, and the Evangelisation of Aneityum, 1848–59: Oppressors and Manipulators? Peter Barnes. Reformed Theological Review, 60
(Aug., 2001), 85–94.
Le monde cistercien français de 1850 à nos jours. Olivier Quenardel. Collectanea Cisterciensia, 63 (4, 1001), 299–314,

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

419

La “questione rosminiana.” Giovanni Sale. La Civiltà Cattolica, 152, IV (Nov. 17,
2001), 331–344.
Two Lectures at Bath: The Rev. M. Hobart Seymour and Cardinal Nicholas Wiseman and the Nunnery Question. Rene Kollar. Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, 96 ( July–Dec., 2001), 372–389.
I cattolici e la questione della libertà d’insegnamento nel Ticino del XIX e del XX
secolo. Fabrizio Panzera. Zeitschrift für Schweizerische Kirchengeschichte,
95 (2001), 137–158.
Sant’Antonio Pucci durante le prime settimane del colera a Viareggio (luglioagosto 1854). Franco Maria Azzalli, O.S.M. Studi Storici dell’Ordine dei
Servi di Maria, XLIX (1–2, 1999) 85–96.
Deportazioni negli Stati Uniti d’America di detenuti politici dello Stato Pontificio (1854–1858). Elio Lodolini. Rassagna Storica del Risorgimento,
LXXXVIII ( July–Sept., 2001), 323–354.
Solidaraktionen österreichischer Katholiken im Kampf um den Kirchenstaat
(1859–1870)—quantifizierbarer Ultramontanismus? Rupert Klieber. Römische Historiche Mitteilungen, 43 (2001), 653–679.
Pius IX.,das 1. Vatikanum und die katholischen Ostkirchen. Klaus Schatz,S.J. Ostkirchliche Studien, 50 (Nov., 2001), 253–266.
Newman’s Letter to the Duke of Norfolk: Citizenship, Church, and Conscience.
John T. Ford. Josephinum Journal of Theology, 8 (Summer/Fall, 2001),
38–50.
Ubi Roma, ibi papa: les projets de fuite du pape hors de Rome sous Léon XIII
(1878–1895). Jean-Marc Ticchi. Rassegna Storica del Risorgimento,
LXXXVIII ( July–Sept., 2001), 355–400.
Nunzio Russo e le Chiese di Sicilia nella seconda metà dell’Ottocento. Cataldo
Naro. Ho Theológos, XIX (2, 2001), 269–286.
Political Insecurity, Social Chaos, Religious Void and the Rise of Protestantism in
Late Nineteenth-Century Korea. Andrew Eungi Kim. Social History, 26
(Oct., 2001), 267–281.
Both Praying and Playing: “Muscular Christianity” and the YMCA in Northeast
County Durham. Neal Garnham. Journal of Social History, 35 (Winter,
2001), 397–407.
Protestant Nationalism in Ulster, 1890–1910: Francis Joseph Bigger and the
Writing of The Ulster Land War of 1770. Eoin Magennis. Seanchas Ard
Mhacha, 18 (2, 2001), 102–116.
Les premiers déboires du père Lagrange avec la censure des publications.
Bernard Montagnes, O.P. Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, LXX (2000),
445–481.

420

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

En 1901,les protestants français face à la loi sur le contrat d’association. Laurent
Gambarotto. Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du Protestantisme
Français, 147 (Oct.–Dec., 2001), 655–678.
Schweizerischer Caritasverband 1901–2001. Urs Altermatt. Zeitschrift für
Schweizerische Kirchengeschichte, 95 (2001), 179–196.
The Life of Feodor (George Theodore) Romzha 1911–1947. Part Two. Constantin Simon. Diakonia, 33 (3, 2000), 215–250.
Rekatholisierungsdiskurs und Erneuerungsbewegungen in der integralistischen
Zeitung “Schildwache” 1912–1945. Franziska Metzger. Zeitschrift für
Schweizerische Kirchengeschichte, 95 (2001), 159–178.
Die k. u. k. Botschaft beim Heiligen Stuhl im Exil. Vom Palazzo di Venezia in die
Schweiz. Eine Chronik Mai 1915–Februar 1920. Rudolf Agstner and
Agathon Aerni. Römische Historiche Mitteilungen, 43 (2001), 681–708.
Zur Gründungsgeschichte der Hochschule Sankt Georgen 1919–1926. Zum
75jährigen Jubiläum. Klaus Schatz, S.J. Theologie und Philosophie, 76 (4,
2001), 481–508.
Die Newman-Rezeption in den 20er-Jahren in Deutschland. Hanna-Barbara Gerl
Falkovitz. Internationale Katholische Zeitschrift Communio, 30 (Sept.–
Oct., 2001), 434–449.
Christian Missions and the Development of Higher Education in East Africa:
1920–1960. Robert K. Lang’at. Evangelical Review of Theology, 25 (Apr.,
2001), 178–186.
Becoming a Russian Baptist: Conversion Narratives and Social Experience.
Heather J. Coleman. Russian Review, 61 ( Jan., 2002), 94–112.
The Charism of the Founder of Opus Dei. Paul O’Callaghan. Annales Theologici, 14 (2, 2000), 401–446.
Un dictionnaire de pédagogie catholique pour le 20e siècle? Histoire d’un projet
franco-belge. Philippe Rocher. Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, 96
( July–Dec., 2001), 391–425.
The World’s Evangelical Alliance and the Spanish Civil War. Frederick Hale. Acta
Theologica, 20 (Dec., 2000), 70–87.
Églises contemporaines du Pas-de-Calais (1945–2000). Céline Frémaux. Revue
du Nord, 83 ( July–Sept., 2001), 559–576.
Developing Perceptions about the Council and the Preparatory Phase:
1960–62. Jeffrey J. Murphy. Australasian Catholic Record, 79 ( Jan., 2002),
75–86.
Pierre Haubtmann au Concile Vatican II: Un historien et un théologien de l’inquiétude contemporaine. Philippe Bordeyne. Ephemerides Theologicae
Lovanienses, LXXVII (Dec., 2001), 356–383.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

421

Putting Old Wine into New Bottles: The East German Protetant Church’s Desire
to Reform State Socialism, 1989–90. Michael Kellogg. Journal of Church
and State, 43 (Autumn, 2001), 747–772.
“Living Our Faith”: The Lenten Pastoral Letter of the Bishops of Malawi and the
Shift to Multiparty Democracy, 1992–1993. Maura Mitchell. Journal for the
Scientific Study of Religion, 41 (Mar., 2002), 5–18.
American
Der erste Ethnograph Amerikas. Ramón Pané und sein Bericht von 1498. Michael
Sievernich, S.J. Zeitschrift für Missionswissenschaft und Religionswissenschaft, 85 (2/3, 2001), 143–152.
Source of Knowledge, Source of Power: The Supernatural World of English Virginia, 1607–1624. Edward L. Bond. Virginia Magazine of History and Biography, 108 (2, 2000), 105–138.
Puritans and Religious Strife in the Early Chesapeake. Kevin Butterfield. Virginia Magazine of History and Biography, 109 (1, 2001), 5–36.
Old Age and Religion in the Writings and Life of Jonathan Edwards. Kenneth P.
Minkema. Church History, 70 (Dec., 2001), 674–704.
George Mason’s Pursuit of Religious Liberty in Revolutionary Virginia. Daniel L.
Dreisbach. Virginia Magazine of History and Biography, 108 (1, 2000),
5–44.
The Spiritual Fruits of Revolution: Disestablishment and the Rise of the Virginia
Baptists. Charles F. Irons. Virginia Magazine of History and Biography,
109 (2, 2001), 159–186.
Mr. Jefferson, a Mammoth Cheese, and the “Wall of Separation between Church
and State”: A Bicentennial Commemoration. Daniel L. Dreisbach. Journal
of Church and State, 43 (Autumn, 2001), 725–745.
Young Believers and Old Believers in the Wilderness: Narratives of Place and
the Construction of Family among Western Shakers. Dawn E. Bakken. Indiana Magazine of History, XCVII (Dec., 2001), 278–295.
“All That Is Pure in Religion and Valuable in Society”: Presbyterians, the Virginia
Society, and the Sabbath, 1830–1836. Forrest L. Marion. Virginia Magazine
of History and Biography, 109 (2, 2001), 187–218.
Protestant Mothers and Catholic Sisters: Gender Concerns in Anti-Catholic Conspiracy Theories,1830–1860. Joseph G. Mannard. American Catholic Studies, 111 (Spring–Winter, 2000), 1–21.
Alvah Kelley’s Cow: Household Feuds, Proprietary Rights, and the Charlestown
Convent Riot. Daniel A. Cohen. New England Quarterly, LXXIV (Dec.,
2001), 531–579.

422

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

The Cross: Church Symbol and Contest in Nineteenth-Century America. Ryan
K. Smith. Church History, 70 (Dec., 2001), 705–734.
Charleston’s Bishop John England and American Slavery. Joseph Kelly. New Hibernia Review, 5 (Winter, 2001), 48–56.
Faith of Our Fathers. Mark Braun. Concordia Historical Institute Quarterly, 74
(Winter, 2001), 198–218.
A Missionary Journey to Oregon, 1853–1854. Bishop Matthew Simpson. Oregon
Historical Quarterly, 102 (Winter, 2001), 454–479.
Unintended Consequences: The Rise and Fall of the Know-Nothing Party in Alabama. Jeff Frederick. Alabama Review, 55 ( Jan. 2002), 3–33.
Wilhelm Nast (1807–1899): Founder of German-speaking Methodism in America and Architect of the Methodist Episcopal Church Mission in Europe.
W. Harrison Daniel. Methodist History, 39 (Apr., 2001), 154–166.
Robert Samuel Maclay (1824–1907): The Pioneer of the American Protestant
Mission in Korea. Chan-Hie Kim. Methodist History, 39 (Apr., 2001),
167–180.
Bishop Augustin Verot: “L’Enfant Terrible” of Vatican I. Marcianne Kappes.
American Catholic Studies, 111 (Spring–Winter, 2000), 61–76.
History of the Cause for Canonization of Blessed Francis Xavier Seelos, C.SS.R.
Carl Hoegerl, C.SS.R. Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., XLIX (2, 2001),
349–409.
The Emergence of California in American Religious Historiography. Eldon G.
Ernst. Religion and American Culture, 11 (Winter, 2001), 31–52.
Mediating Catholic Identity: The Catholic University of America, The First Fifty
Years. Christopher J. Kauffman. Jurist, LIX (1, 1999), 119–132.
William Joseph Kerby (1870–1936): The Approach to His Field of the First
American Catholic Sociologist. C. Joseph Nuesse. American Catholic Studies, 111 (Spring–Winter, 2000), 77–96.
Northern Arapaho Conversion of a Christian Text. Jeffrey D. Anderson. Ethnohistory, 48 (Fall, 2001), 689–712.
Jessica Powers, the Catholic Revival, and Wisconsin as a Locus of Community.
Regina Siegfried. American Catholic Studies, 111 (Spring–Winter, 2000),
51–59.
John H. C. Fritz, Dean and Professor: Parts One and Two. Ruth Fritz Meyer. Concordia Historical Institute Quarterly, 74 (Fall and Winter, 2001), 132–154,
234–253.
J. Elliot Ross and the National Conference of Christians and Jews: A Catholic
Contribution to Tolerance in America. Patrick J. Hayes. Journal of Ecumenical Studies, XXXVII (Summer–Fall, 2000), 321–332.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

423

World War II Chaplains and Missouri Synod Missions. Dale E. Griffin. Concordia
Historical Institute Quarterly, 74 (Fall, 2001), 174–191.
Hard Times for the American Catholic Renaissance: Catholic Digest in the
Fifties. Anne Klejment. American Catholic Studies, 111 (Spring–Winter,
2000), 23–49.
Tracking the Restructuring of American Religion: Religious Affiliation and Patterns of Religious Mobility, 1973–1998. Darren Sherkat. Social Forces, 79
( June, 2001), 1459–1493.

Latin American
De la Ciudad Cristiana a la Ciudad Divina: La fundación del Obispado de México, 1528–1548 (III.). Eugenio Martín Torres Torres. Efemerides Mexicana, 19 (Sept.–Dec., 2001), 317–334.
Los franciscanos en la evangelización del Perú. Siglo XVI. Comentario retrospectivo de un Obispo franciscano. Federico Richter Prada. Archivo IberoAmericano, 61 (Sept.–Dec., 2001), 571–603.
“Just like the Gesù”: Sebastiano Serlio, Giacomo Vignola, and Jesuit Architecture
in South America. Gauvin Alexander Bailey. Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu, LXX ( July–Dec., 2001), 233–264.
Trinidad Sánchez Santos: Voice of the Catholic Opposition in Porfirian Mexico.
Richard Weiner. Mexican Studies, 17 (Summer, 2001), 321–349.
The Role of the Catholic Church and Other Religious Institutions in the
Guatemalan Peace Process, 1980–1996. Bruce J. Calder. Journal of Church
and State, 43 (Autumn, 2001), 773–797.

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED

[Books that were sent to scholars to be reviewed but of which no review has
been received are indicated by an asterisk.]
Aubert, R. Dictionnaire d’Histoire et de Géographie Ecclésiastiques, Fascicule
163: Joseph-Marie—Julien de Cividale. (Paris: Letouzey et Ané. 2001.
Cols. 257-512. 320 FF; Euros 48,78 paperback.)
*Avella, Steven M. Like an Evangelical Trumpet: A History of the Mother of
God Province of the Society of the Catholic Apostolate. (Milwaukee: The
Pallottine Fathers and Brothers, Inc. 1999. Pp. xi, 335. Paperback.)
Azkoul, Michael. Once Delivered to the Saints: An Orthodox Apology for the
New Millennium. (Seattle: Saint Nectarios Press. 2000. Pp. xv, 356. $22.00
paperback.)
Barrera, Albino, O.P. Modern Catholic Social Documents and Political Economy.(Washington,D.C.: Georgetown University Press. Pp. xii,340. $69.95.)
Bendroth, Margaret Lamberts, and Virginia Lieson Brereton (Eds.). Women and
Twentieth-Century Protestantism. (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press. 2002. Pp. xv, 350. $49.95 cloth; $19.95 paper.)
Blowers, Paul M., Angela Russell Christman, David G. Hunter, and Robin Darling
Young (Eds.). In Dominico Eloquio: In Lordly Eloquence. Essays on Patristic Exegesis in Honor of Robert Louis Wilken. (Grand Rapids: William
B. Eerdmans Publishing Company. 2002. Pp. xvi, 438. $45.00.)
Bushman, Claudia Lauper, and Richard Lyman Bushman. Building the Kingdom: A History of Mormons in America. (New York: Oxford University
Press. 2001. Pp. xi, 123. $9.95 paperback.)
Capreolus, John. On the Virtues. Trans. Kevin White and Romanus Cessario, O.P.
(Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press. 2001. Pp.
xxxv, 395. $79.95.)
Carroll, James. Constantine’s Sword: The Church and the Jews: A History. (New
York: Houghton Mifflin Company. A Mariner Book. 2001. Pp. xiii, 756.
$16.00 paperback.) Originally published in 2001 and reviewed by Eugene
Fisher ante, LXXXVII (April, 2001), 302-303.
Carson, D. A., Peter T. O’Brien, and Mark A. Seifrid (Eds.). Justification and Variegated Nomism. Volume I: The Complexities of Second Temple Judaism.

424

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED

425

(Grand Rapids: Baker Academic; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. 2001. Pp. xiii,
619. $44.99 paperback.)
Doval, Alexis James. Cyril of Jerusalem, Mystagogue: The Authorship of the
Mystagogic Catecheses. [North American Patristic Society, Patristic Monograph Series, Volume 17.] (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of
America Press. 2001. Pp. xiv, 281. $49.95.)
Gilson, Étienne. God and Philosophy. Second Edition. (New Haven: Yale University Press. Yale Nota Bene. 2002. Pp. xxviii, 147. $12.95 paperback.)
First published in 1941.
Greenfield, Gerald Michael. The Realities of Images: Imperial Brazil and the
Great Drought. [Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, Volume 91, Part 1.] (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society. 2001. Pp.
xxvi, 148. Paperback.)
*Kamen, Henry. Philip of Spain. (New Haven:Yale University Press. 1997, 1998.
Pp. xvi, 384. $37.50 cloth; $17.95 paperback.)
Karkov, Catherine E. Text and Picture in Anglo-Saxon England: Narrative
Strategies in the Junius 11 Manuscript. [Cambridge Studies in AngloSaxon England, 31.] (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2001. Pp. xii,
225. $69.95.)
Kelly, Joseph F. The Problem of Evil in the Western Tradition: From the Book
of Job to Modern Genetics. (Collegeville, Minn.: The Liturgical Press. A
Michael Glazer Book. 2002. Pp. viii, 245. $17.95 paperback.)
Lanzinger, Michele, Franco Marzatico, and Annaluisa Pedrotti (Eds.). Storia del
Trentino. I: La preistoria e la protostoria. [Istituto Trentino di Cultura.]
(Bologna: Società editrice il Mulino. 2000. Pp. 655. Euros 46.48 paperback.)
Lebrun, Richard A. (Ed.). Joseph de Maistre’s Life, Thought, and Influence: Selected Studies. (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press. 2001. Pp. x,
338. $75.00.) This volume contains, among others, two essays by Jean-Yves
Pranchère, viz., “Joseph de Maistre’s Catholic Philosophy of Authority”
(pp. 131-150), and “The Social Bond according to the Catholic CounterRevolution: Maistre and Bonald” (pp. 190-219).
Lehning,James R. To Be a Citizen:The Political Culture of the Early French Third
Republic. (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press. 2001. Pp. xi, 193. $39.95.)
Mauck, John W. Paul on Trial: The Book of Acts as a Defense of Christianity.
(Nashville: Thomas Nelson Publishers. 2001. Pp. xviii, 236. $14.99 paperback.)
*McAfee, Ward M. Religion, Race, and Reconstruction: The Public School in
the Politics of the 1870s. [SUNY Series, Religion and American Public Life.]
(Albany: State University of New York Press. 1998. Pp. x, 317. $21.95 paperback.)

426

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED

McDonough, Peter, and Eugene C. Bianchi. Passionate Uncertainty: Inside the
American Jesuits. (Berkeley: University of California Press. 2002. Pp. x,
380. $29.95.)
memoria silenziosa (La): Formazione, tutela e status giuridico degli archivi
monastici nei monumenti nazionali. Atti del convegno Veroli, Abbazia
di Casamari, 6-7 novembre 1998, Ferentino, Palazzo comunale, 8 novembre 1998. [Pubblicazioni degli Archivi di Stato, Saggi 62.] (Rome: Ministero
per i beni e le attività culturali, Ufficio centrale per i beni archivistici. 2000.
Pp. 304. Lire 8.000 paperback.) The first section contains three papers on
the suppression of religious corporations,to wit: Cosimo Semeraro,“Il contesto politico culturale dei rapporti Chiesa-Stato nell’Ottocento” (pp. 2941); Romeo Astorri, “Leggi eversive, soppressioni delle corporazioni
religiose e beni culturali” (pp. 42-69); and Francesca Cavazzana Romanelli,
“Gli archivi dei monasteri benedettini del Veneto. Vicende dei fondi, concentrazioni e ordinamenti” (pp. 70-85). The second section, entitled “Gli
archivi dei monumenti nazionali” (pp. 87-249), contains papers by various
authors on the archives of the Abbey of S. Giustina in Padua, the Abbey of
Montecassino, the Abbey of the Holy Trinity of Cava dei Tirreni, the National Monument of Montevergine, the Abbey of Praglia, the Charterhouse
of Trisulti, the Abbey of Casamari, the Greek Abbey of Grottaferrata, and
the Abbey of Subiaco. The third section contains three papers by various
authors on local research in southern Lazio, Anagni, and Ferentino.
Newman, John Henry. Mary: The Virgin Mary in the Life and Writings of John
Henry Newman. Ed. Philip Boyce. (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans
Publishing Company. 2001. Pp. viii, 439. $28.00.)
Newman, John Henry. The Arians of the Fourth Century. [The Works of Cardinal John Henry Newman: Birmingham Oratory Millennium Edition,Volume
IV.] (Notre Dame,Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press. 2001. Pp. xlvii,510.
$28.95.) Originally published in 1833.
Panciroli, Romeo (Ed.). Paolo VI, Pellegrino Apostolico: Discorsi e messaggi.
[Quaderni dell’ Istituto, 19.] (Brescia: Istituto Paolo VI; Rome: Edizioni
Studium. 2001. Pp. xx, 457. Lire 75.000; Euros 38,73 paperback.)
Potworowski, Christophe. Contemplation and Incarnation: The Theology of
Marie-Dominique Chenu. [McGill-Queen’s Studies in the History of Ideas,
33.] (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press. 2001. Pp. xvii, 330.
$49.95.)
*Ramsey, Boniface, O.P. Ambrose. [The Early Church Fathers.] (New York: Routledge. 1997. Pp. xi, 238. $70.00.)
Ranft, Patricia. A Woman’s Way: The Forgotten History of Women Spiritual Directors. (New York: Palgrave. 2001. Pp. ix, 254. $19.95 paperback.) First
published in 2000.

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED

427

*Schatz, Klaus, S.J. Papal Primacy: From Its Origins to the Present. Trans. John
A. Otto and Linda M. Maloney. (Collegeville, Minn.: The Liturgical Press. A
Michael Glazier Book. 1996. Pp. x, 197. $19.95 paperback.)
Sweeney, Gerald. “Fighting for the Good Cause”: Reflections on Francis Galton’s Legacy to American Hereditarian Psychology. [Transactions of the
American Philosophical Society, Volume 91, Part 2.] (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society. 2001. Pp. x, 136. Paperback.)
Zuccotti, Susan. Under His Very Windows: The Vatican and the Holocaust in
Italy. (New Haven:Yale University Press.Yale Nota Bene. 2002. Pp. xii, 408.
$35.00 cloth; $16.95 paperback.) Originally published in 2000 and reviewed by Vincent A. Lapomarda, S.J., ante, LXXXVII (April, 2001), 343-345.