The Catholic Historical Review VOL. XCIII JULY, 2007 No. 3 ABBOT HUGH:AN OVERLOOKED BROTHER OF HENRY I, COUNT OF CHAMPAGNE BY RUTH HARWOOD CLINE* Hugh (d. 1171), a natural son of Count Thibaut IV of Blois and II of Champagne (d.1152), was a half-brother of Count Henry I of Champagne (1127-1181) and Adèle (d. 1206), queen of France and mother of Philip Augustus. A knight wounded in battle, Hugh became a monk of Tiron Abbey near Chartres. Supported by his uncles King Stephen and Bishop Henry of Winchester, Hugh became abbot of St. Benet of Holme in Norfolk and of Chertsey outside London. Hugh returned to Champagne ca.1155 and became abbot of Lagny near Paris (1163-1171). A castrate, Hugh may have inspired Chrétien de Troyes’ Fisher King. Count Henry I “the Liberal” of Champagne (1127-1181) was the oldest of ten children of Count Thibaut “the Great” IV of Blois and II of Champagne (d.1152) and his wife Mathilda of Carinthia. Thibaut II, a warrior and magnate who was a nephew of Henry I of England, was offered the English throne before it was seized by his younger brother, Stephen (r. 1135-1154). Count Henry’s wife, Countess Marie (11451198) was the older daughter of Louis VII of France (b. 1121, r. 11371180) and his first wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine (c. 1122-1204). His second brother, Count Thibaut V of Blois (d. c.1191), was seneschal of France and had married Countess Marie’s younger sister, Alix (1150-c. 1197). His third brother was Stephen, count of Sancerre (d. 1190). His fourth brother,William of the White Hands (d. 1202), was bishop of Chartres, *Dr. Cline is a research associate in the Department of History of Georgetown University. 501 502 ABBOT HUGH:AN OVERLOOKED BROTHER OF HENRY I, COUNT OF CHAMPAGNE archbishop of Sens, papal legate in England, archbishop of Reims, Cardinal of Santa Sabina, regent of France, and head of the Royal Council of his nephew Philip Augustus (r. 1180-1223).1 His youngest sister, Adèle (d. 1206), was queen of France as the third wife of Louis VII and mother of the heir Philip Augustus. Count Henry was a crusader, an administrator, a diplomat, and a literary patron. His kinship network extended over modern France and to the England of his second cousin, Henry II (b. 1133, r. 1154-1189), and his travels extended through the Holy Roman Empire to the Holy Land.These distinguished children of an illustrious father were central figures in the politics of twelfth-century France. It is less well known that they had a half brother. Count Henry’s English connections included his paternal uncles: Stephen, king of England, and Stephen’s younger brother Henry, bishop of Winchester and abbot of Glastonbury (d. 1171). Bishop Henry was not elected archbishop of Canterbury, but was compensated for some time by the more powerful position of papal legate in England. Bishop Henry lived in England during the reigns of Stephen and Henry II until 1171, interrupted by a sojourn at Cluny during a tense period in 11551162. His half-brother Hugh (d. 1171), a Benedictine abbot, lived in England for a decade before returning to his family in Champagne. Hugh was an interesting person in his own right, and his story is a fascinating addition to the genealogy of the House of Blois-Champagne. Hugh was Count Thibaut’s natural son, and his birthdate and mother are unknown.2 The only solid documentation of Hugh’s life 1 Theodore Evergates, Feudal Society in Medieval France, Documents from the County of Champagne (Philadelphia, 1993) and D.D.R. Owen, Eleanor of Aquitaine, Queen and Legend (Oxford, 1993, 1996). 2 It is documented that Thibaut had a natural son whose birth was considered to have taken place before Thibaut’s marriage to Mathilda in 1123. See H.Arbois de Jubainville, Histoire des ducs et des comtes de Champagne, II (Paris, 1861), pp. 407-408. Presumably the boy was named after Thibaut’s uncle Hugh, from whom Thibaut inherited Champagne. His mother’s name is not recorded in genealogies that list the mothers of other illegitimate lines. See William Addams Reitwiesner, Matrilineal Descents of the European Royalty, A Work in Progress, 5th ed., Volume IV: NB-DS (Washington, D.C., 1997), ATJ, p. 3. Some genealogies list Hugh as a legitimate son and abbot of Cîteaux. Augustin Déchaussé Anselme, continued by Honoré Caille Dufourny, Histoire Généalogique et Chronologique de la Maison Royale de France, II (Paris, 1726), pp. 840-841, lists two Hughs as sons of Thibaut: Hugh, abbot of St. Benet of Holme and Lagny, and a legitimate son Hugh, abbot of Cîteaux in 1155. Europäische Stammtafeln: Stammtafeln zur Geschichte der Europäischen Staaten, n.s., ed. Detlev Schwennicke, Band II: Die Ausserdeutschen Staaten die Regierenden Hauser der Ubrigen Staaten BY RUTH HARWOOD CLINE 503 covers his adult years, from c.1141 until 1171.The major sources are references to him in the thirteenth-century Chronica of John of Oxenedes (d. c. 1293), the records of St. Benet of Holme in William Worcestre Itineraries, the Chronicle of Robert of Torigni, and the Annals of Lagny cited in Gallia Christiana. He is also mentioned in the cartularies of the abbeys of Tiron, St. Benet of Holme, Chertsey, and Lagny and in the Letters and Charters of Gilbert Foliot. Although Oxenedes is inaccurate about Hugh’s dying at Chertsey Abbey, he provides the most comprehensive account of Hugh’s life.3 For his Chronicle, Oxenedes borrowed from various sources, including the Chronicle of Hugh of St. Victor, John of Salisbury’s Polycrates, and William of Malmesbury.4 Oxenedes paid tribute to Stephen as an excellent knight of great piety, but chose to include his perjuries regarding his obligations to the Church and to others.5 Oxenedes’s Europas (Marburg, 1984),Table 46, lists Hughes abbot of Cîteaux in 1155. Michel Turquois of the Bibliothèque Municipale de Troyes explained the confusion by noting that the Latin name of Chertsey is Certesiensis and the Latin name of Cîteaux is Cisterciense, in Dictionnaire Universel du XIX Siècle,ed. Pierre Larousse,Vol. 4, Part 1 (1869; Geneva and Paris, 1982 reprint), p. 355. If the Latin source for “of Chertsey Abbey” spelled the name Cercesiensis, as it appears in Gallia Christiana, ed. Monachi Congregationis S. Mauri Ordinis S, Benedicti,Vol. 7 (Paris, 1744), col. 497, genealogists expecting to find a French abbey instead of an English one opted for Cîteaux. There was no abbot of Cîteaux named Hugh in 1155, although on that date Hugh was still nominally abbot of Chertsey. Goswin, abbot of Cîteaux (1150-1155), was succeeded by Lambert (1155-1161). Constance Brittain Bouchard, Holy Entrepreneurs (Ithaca and London, 1991), pp. 205-206, cites J.-M. Canivez, “Cîteaux (Abbaye),” col. 866 in the Dictionnaire d’Histoire et de Géographie Ecclésiastiques, 12 (Paris, 1953), cols. 852-874. 3 John of Oxenedes, Chronica Johannis de Oxenedes monachi S. Benedicti de Hulmo ab adventu Horsae et Hengisti in Britanniam ad A.D. 1293, ed. Henry Ellis, [Rolls Series, 13] (London, 1859), pp. 270-271; The Register of the Abbey of St. Benet of Holme, 1020-1210, ed. J.R. West [Norfolk Record Society, 2], (Fakenham and London, 1932), p. 195: Successit eidem Hugo nepos Stephani regis Angliae, miles strenuus. Qui aliquando in bello vulneratus, de vita desperatus apud Tyrum monachilem suscepit habitum. Qui convalescens de infirmitate stetit per aliquod tempus in eadem religione et postea rege avunculo suo agente factus est abbas S. Benedicti de Hulmo. Qui jura et libertates ecclesiae suae viriliter ac strenue defendebat maxime eo quod de nobili genere esset tota illum metuebat patria. Unde vicecomes quidam nomine Wymerus Caperun eum exosum habebat per quem quedam muliercula latenter lectulo abbatis ignorantis et dormientis introducta ab insidiatoribus inventa apud manerium de Fyleby clamore levato ipsum abbatem innocentem testiculis privaverunt. Qui tanti confectus scandali pudore patriam ac provinciam relinquens cessit abbitiae et loco. Qui postea agente rege scilicit avunculo suo abbatiam Certeseye ubi vitae terminum fecit adeptus est. 4 Oxenedes, Chronica, p. viii. 5 Oxenedes, Chronica, p. 45, ad annum 1135, and p. 50, ad annum 1152. 504 ABBOT HUGH:AN OVERLOOKED BROTHER OF HENRY I, COUNT OF CHAMPAGNE description of Hugh is in an original Appendix recounting the early history of the abbey of St. Benet of Holme and its successive abbots.6 His assertion of Hugh’s good character does not reflect uncritical admiration for Hugh’s royal uncle. Oxenedes states that Hugh was a knight.The traditional upbringing for the son of a great nobleman included a good early education, fostering, and military training. A future knight would not have pursued as advanced a course of studies as a son destined for the clergy, but he would have received a good grounding in reading and writing French and Latin and the other branches of the trivium. Count Henry,Thibaut’s first legitimate son, studied the liberal arts, was “subject to the discipline of the schools” for several years, read Latin for pleasure,7 and corresponded with scholars. There is no reason to think that Thibaut would have given less care to the education of another son. Possibly Hugh was educated at Tiron Abbey, where noblemen sent their sons for schooling, according to the Vita Bernardi.8 Thibaut, then count of Blois and Chartres, paid in 1117 for major embellishments of Tiron Abbey, twenty-five miles southwest of Chartres, including the construction of an infirmary.The improvements might have been related to his decision to place his young son there for his early education.9 Later, a future knight would have been fostered in an aristocratic household. In addition to the nobles of Blois, two of Thibaut’s uncles would have been willing to rear his son: Hugh, count of Champagne on his father’s side, and Henry I, king of England on his mother’s side. The king acknowledged over twenty natural children and married many into the aristocracy. In early adolescence Hugh would have been taught good manners and courtly behavior, the code of honor of chivalry, and respect for women. In an era when Thibaut and his overlord the king of France were constantly at war, Hugh would also have received extensive training in horsemanship and combat. His knight6 Oxenedes, Chronica,Appendix, pp. 267-277. Arbois de Jubainville, Histoire des Ducs et des Comtes de Champagne, III (Paris,1861), pp. 189-190, citing a letter to Count Henry from Philip, abbot of BonneEspérance. See letter 16 Philippi, abbatis Bonae-spei, ad Henricum [Epis. 17, p. 84] in D. Bouquet, Recueil des historiens des Gaulles et de la France, ed. Michel-Jean-Joseph Brial, new ed. by Léopold Delisle (Paris,1878), Volume 16, p. 703: “Horum concursu scholarum disciplinam per annos aliquot prosecutus sub magistrali ferula.” 8 Geoffrey Grossus, Vita Beati Bernardi Tironiensis, ed. Godefroy Henskens and Daniel Papebroch, in Acta Sanctorum [hereafter AASS], ed. Jean Bolland et alii, (Antwerp, Venice, Paris, 1643-1870, and Acta Sanctorum Database 1999-2006 ProQuest Information and Learning Company),Aprilis II, p. 239, §74 9 Geoffrey Grossus, Vita Bernardi,AASS,Aprilis II, p. 245, §97. 7 Simplified Genealogy of the House of Blois-Champagne Thibaut III, Count of Blois, I of Champagne, d. 1093 William the Conqueror, King of England, 1065-1087 Hugh, Count of Champagne, 1093-1125 Thibaut IV, = Count of Blois, 1102-1152, II Count of Champagne, 1125-1152 Henry of Sulli, Abbot of Fécamp, 1140-1189 Mathilda of Carinthia Henry I, Count of = Champagne, 1152-1181 Adela Henry I, King of England, 1100-1135 Stephen I, King of England, 1135-1154 Louis VII, = Eleanor of King of France, Aquitaine 1137-1180 Hugh (nat. son), Abbot of St. Benet of Holme, Chertsey, and Lagny, d. 1171 = Marie Alix = Henry, Bishop of Winchester, 1125-1171 Gervase (nat. son), Abbot of Westminster, Thibaut V, Count of Blois, d. 1191 Empress Maud, Countess of Anjou Eleanor of Aquitaine Stephen I, Count of Sancerre William, Archbishop of Reims and Sens, Cardinal, d. 1202 Adele, = Queen of France, d. 1206 = Henry II, King of England, 1154-1189 BY RUTH HARWOOD CLINE William = Agnes of Sulli Stephen Henry, Count of Blois and Chartres, d. 1101 Louis VII, King of France, 1137-1180 505 Philip II Augustus, King of France, 1180-1223 506 ABBOT HUGH:AN OVERLOOKED BROTHER OF HENRY I, COUNT OF CHAMPAGNE ing would have been an important religious ceremony.Whether Hugh received this traditional upbringing is unknown, but he was literate and trained to fight. Like his noble father, Hugh was described as a brisk, energetic, vigorous, and perhaps restless knight, aristocratic in appearance, and authoritative and virile in his bearing. While Hugh could not have inherited Count Thibaut’s vast domain of Blois, Champagne, and Sancerre, he could have expected his father to settle property on him and arrange for his marriage. Hugh’s life took a dramatically different turn when at some time he was wounded in battle.Wherever the war was being waged, he must have been somewhere near Tiron Abbey, which was five miles from the Norman border in Thibaut’s territory of Perche and had physicians and an infirmary.10 One possibility is that Hugh was with his father and involved in the fighting that broke out in Normandy near Exmes and the river Risle following Stephen’s accession to the English throne. Thibaut besieged Pont-Saint-Pierre outside Rouen for a month in June 1136. Exmes is about 50 miles from Tiron; Pont-Saint-Pierre is about 75 miles away. It would have been prudent to transport Thibault’s wounded son across the border of Normandy into Blois to prevent his capture and then to take him to the nearest source of medical attention. Hugh entered Tiron Abbey despairing of his life, but the physicians of Tiron pulled him through. Possibly he was too impaired to continue as a knight, for during his convalescence he decided to become a Benedictine monk. He remained for some time in that reformed abbey, which ran a school and emphasized manual labor and artisanry. Tiron engaged actively in trade and had abbeys and priories in border regions in France and the British Isles, specifically in the diocese of Winchester and the dependent abbeys of Kelso in Scotland and St. Dogmael’s in Wales.11 Then Hugh traveled to England, where his uncle Stephen offered him sponsorship and protection. Through the king’s influence Hugh became abbot of two English Benedictine abbeys: first St. Benet of Holme and then St. Peter of Chertsey.12 10 Orderic Vitalis, The Ecclesiastical History of Orderic Vitalis, ed.and trans. Marjorie Chibnall, (Oxford, 1978),VI, Book 13, Section 24, pp. 463-465. 11 Lucien Merlet, Cartulaire de l’Abbaye de Tiron, 2 vols. (Chartres, 1883). 12 David Knowles and R. Neville Hadcock, Medieval Religious Houses, England and Wales (New York, 1972), describe the abbeys of Chertsey (p. 62) and St. Benet of Holme (p. 75). BY RUTH HARWOOD CLINE 507 Hugh’s first documented appearance is c.1141-1146 as the abbot of St. Benet of Holme in Norfolk.13 This important Benedictine monastery, fortified so that it was more castle than cloister, was near Ludham in northeast England in the marshes between Norwich and Great Yarmouth, about 40 miles from the Abbey of Bury St. Edmunds, a noted pilgrimage site.The Fen country was particularly torn by the civil war raging in England. Hugh obtained the appointment by sheer royal favor. In 1140 Abbot Anselm died and was succeeded by Abbot Daniel, a wise but illiterate layman, a glazier, formerly married, with a son. Between 1141 and 1146, at Stephen’s order, Daniel was deposed and Hugh installed in his place.14 Since Stephen esteemed Daniel highly,15 he probably appointed Hugh from nepotism, to institute the continental reforms within the monastery, and to strengthen his royal authority in the region. Hugh was a vigorous and successful abbot, who manfully defended the rights and privileges of his abbey to the utmost. A grant of land he made to William of Hastings near Fyebridge, Norwich, was witnessed by his prior William, his subprior Wilfric, his sacristan Ralph, his cellarer Laurence, and his chamberlain Algar.16 His charters show that he had another married chamberlain named Serlo,17 obligations of knight service,18 and holdings that included marshes and sheep.19 He made several grants of land to Nicholas the clerk.20 The abbey founded a cell in Panxworth during his tenure.21 Among other gifts, Stephen granted 13 The Heads of Religious Houses, England and Wales, 940-1216, ed. David Knowles, C.N.L. Brooke, and Vera C.M. London (Cambridge, 1972, 2001), pp. 38 and 68. 14 Records of St. Benet of Holme are contained in William Worcestre Itineraries, ed. John H. Harvey (Oxford, 1969), pp. 209-235. After Hugh left,Abbot Daniel was restored c.1150-1153, Ibid. pp. 232:“Hugo nepos Stephani Regis miles Regis nobilis qui factus monachus loco Danielis per Regem viriliter defendit jura Sancti Benedicti.”1153. Daniel fuit vitrarius et laicus sed sapiens Rex Stephanus si sciuisset cantare missam faceret ipsum archiepiscopum Cantuarie habuit uxorem et filium nomine Henricum socius Sancti Thome martiris et dictus Henricus Danielis et post abbas istius loci et postea per Regem factus abbas Ramesey.” 15 William of Worcester says above that if Abbot Daniel had known enough Latin to sing Mass, King Stephen would have made him archbishop of Canterbury. 16 Norfolk Record Society, II, p. 80, No. 141. 17 Norfolk Record Society, II, pp. 85-86, Nos. 151, 152. 18 Norfolk Record Society, II, p. 81, No. 143; p. 85, No. 151. 19 Norfolk Record Society, II, p. 84, No. 148, 149; p. 87, No. 155; and pp. 170-171 list of alienations. 20 Norfolk Record Society, II, pp. 52-3, No. 89; pp. 84-5, Nos. 148 and 149. 21 Norfolk Record Society, II, p. 88, No. 156. 508 ABBOT HUGH:AN OVERLOOKED BROTHER OF HENRY I, COUNT OF CHAMPAGNE the abbey, and Hugh, the two-hundred courts of Flegg and the hundred-court of Happing 1147-1149,22 an important gift granting authority in coastal regions which was confirmed by the archbishop of Canterbury.23 Nonetheless, Stephen’s right to give these courts was vigorously disputed by the previous owner, and Henry II could not give warranty for the abbey’s rightful possession of them in 11551158.24 The abbey’s rights and privileges included the collection of income and rents from manors, farms, and other properties, and other legal prerogatives, so that, as a strong abbot endeavoring to run two courts, Hugh may have posed a challenge to the secular authorities. The country went in fear of him, and he had enemies, both within the abbey among the pro-Daniel faction, and without. In 1147-1149 Hugh obtained a general confirmation by Pope Eugenius III of the abbey’s possessions and liberties, containing a provision that he and his successors should not be deprived of their abbey by violence, but that abbots should be duly elected.25 In 1148 Hugh was an unsuccessful candidate for Bishop of Lincoln. He was one of three kinsmen26 of Stephen and Bishop Henry to be nominated for the position, at a time when both king and bishop were in papal disfavor. The pope had summoned Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury, and the bishops and abbots of England to the Council of Reims, scheduled for March 1148. Seeking to restrict contacts between the English church and Rome, Stephen had expelled the papal legates bearing the summonses and had allowed only three bishops to attend. The council had suspended the English bishops who ignored the summonses until Theobald was willing to absolve them. Bishop Henry had been suspended by name and had been required to seek release from 22 Norfolk Record Society, II, pp. 28-29, Nos. 52-53 Norfolk Record Society, II, pp. 46-47, No. 78. 24 Norfolk Record Society, II, p. 19, No. 29, and pp. 185-186. 25 Norfolk Record Society, II, pp. 36-38, No. 68. 26 Z. N. Brooke et al., eds., The Letters and Charters of Gilbert Foliot (Cambridge, 1967), p. 109, Letter 75:“Quod enim domno Wintoniensi super hac re magis placuerit hoc domno papa per omnia displicebat, Fiscamensem, Hulmensem, de Westmustier illum depulsat domnus papa, iam nunc multa cum indignatione et seueritate reprobauit.” John T. Appleby, The Troubled Reign of King Stephen (London, 1969), notes on pp. 179-180 that the candidates were Henry of Sulli, abbot of Fécamp, son of Stephen and Henry’s elder brother William, Thibaut’s natural son Hugh (abbot of St. Benet of Holme), and Gervase, abbot of Westminster, a natural son of Stephen. The Lincoln chapter elected Robert of Chesney, archdeacon of Leicester. R.H.C. Davis, King Stephen 11351154 (London and New York, 1990), p. 172, places these three candidates on a genealogical table. 23 BY RUTH HARWOOD CLINE 509 the pope.27 During this tense period, the see of Lincoln became vacant, and, according to Gilbert Foliot, the pope indignantly rejected the royal kinsmen. In December 1148 Robert of Chesney was elected and consecrated bishop of Lincoln. In 1149 Hugh’s enemies were emboldened to strike. Hugh was outside the safe walls of his abbey visiting his neighboring manor of Filby. The Domesday extent of the land was 1 ploughland and 20 acres; 3 freemen with 42 acres, so Filby was not a large holding at that time, but it may have been becoming a large manor.28 A sheriff, Wymer Caperon, who hated Hugh, arranged to have a woman slipped into the bed of the sleeping abbot and accused him of breaking his vow of chastity. In the subsequent uproar Hugh was castrated. The AngloNorman kings had introduced blinding and castration to England as a more merciful alternative to the death penalty for capital crimes like treason, but the sheriff and his men seem to have acted in the heat of the moment to shame Hugh and drive him from his abbey. They were successful: in the ensuing scandal Hugh relinquished his abbey and returned to his uncle’s protection. Daniel was restored to the abbacy and ruled until his death in 1153. In 1150 Hugh became the abbot of St. Peter of Chertsey, another important and prosperous abbey on the Thames southwest of London bordering to the west on Windsor Forest, about 10 miles downriver from Windsor Castle.29 Abbot William of St. Helen, a monk of Abingdon, appointed by Stephen, was removed by the pope at the request of Bishop Henry.30 Hugh was within his uncle’s bishopric and immediately obtained protection from the pope and the archbishop of Canterbury.Eugenius III’s confirmation bull addressed to him as abbot of Chertsey is dated February 16, 1150.31 27 Avrom Saltman, Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury (London, 1956), pp. 25-27, 106. 28 Norfolk Record Society, II, p. 206. “Hugh II:? 1149-by 1163.”The next abbot of Chertsey was Aymer, in office by 1166. Chertsey Cartularies, Chertsey Abbey Cartularies, 2 vols.[Surrey Record Society], (Frome and London, 1958), II, part 1, p. x. 30 Chronicon Monasterii de Abingdon, ed. J. Stevenson [Rolls Series, II, 2] (London, 1958), pp. 291-292; Norfolk Record Society, II, p. 195. 31 Abbot Hugh obtained two papal bulls confirming his abbacies. [See above Note 25]. The one for St. Benet of Holme in 1147 is published in Norfolk Record Society, II, pp. 3638, No. 68. The papal confirmation for Chertsey issued by Eugenius III, Lateran Palace, February 16, 1150, from Chertsey Cartulary s. XIII, British Museum, Cotton MS Vitellius A XIII fol. 29, mentioned in Chertsey Abbey Cartularies, II-I, p. xvi as an unpublished 29 510 ABBOT HUGH:AN OVERLOOKED BROTHER OF HENRY I, COUNT OF CHAMPAGNE The cartulary of Chertsey contains three charters of King Stephen addressed to Hugh as abbot and “my nephew”; of these two fall between the consecration of Hilary, bishop of Chichester, in 1148 and the death of Gilbert de Clare in 1151, while the third falls between 1148 and the death of Richard, bishop of London, in 116232 Hugh appears as a donor to the priory of Ankerwick, a nunnery founded before 1160 by Gilbert de Montfichet, lord of Wyrardisbury, and his son Richard.33 Thus, with sponsorship from his powerful uncles, the monk Hugh became an abbot of two wealthy religious houses, thereby acquiring a title and an income.As their nephew Hugh had personal contacts with Stephen in London and Windsor and with Bishop Henry in Winchester. During this period he experienced the upheaval of the civil war between Stephen and Empress Mathilda and the early energetic efforts of Henry II, Mathilda’s son, to restore order to the realm and consolidate his French domains. Hugh’s tenure of Chertsey was characterized by the demise or departure of his older relatives. In 1152 his father Thibaut II died at the abbey of Lagny in France outside Paris, and Thibaut’s three oldest sons inherited Champagne, Blois, and Sancerre. In 1154 Stephen died, and Henry II and Eleanor became king and queen of England. The son of Stephen’s rival, Henry II had no reason to be sympathetic toward Stephen’s relations. Bishop Henry incurred Henry II’s wrath by depart- Chertsey Cartulary, is published in Walter Holtzmann, Pabsturkunden in England [Abhandlungen der Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften in Göttingen, PhilologischeHistorische Klasse, Neue Folge, Band XXV (New Series,Volume 25)], 1. Band: Bibliotheken und Archive in London, 1. Abteilung: Berichte un Handschriften Beschreibungen, ed. Walter Holtzmann (Berlin, 1930; reprinted Göttingen,1970), pp. 284-286, No. 46. 32 Chertsey Abbey Cartularies, II-I, p. xvi: fol. 55v Stephen (4 manors) to Hugh abbot “my nephew”; fol. 57 same (general) to same; fol. 57v same (toll and passage) to same. 33 William Dugdale et alii, Monasticon Anglicanum, 6 vols. (London, 1817-1830), IV (London, 1823), p. 229, writes of Ankerwyke Nunnery in Buckinghamshire;“This small nunnery was situated upon the banks of the Thames, in the parish of Wyrardesbury, not far from Stanes.” Confirmation of Mary Magdalene of Ankerwyk: “De dono Hugonis abbatis de Certesey dimidiam hidam terrae et quinque acras terrae cum pertinentiis en Pernerhs.” No. 2, Carta Regis Henrici tertii, donationes quamplurimas recitans et confirmans [Cartae 41 Hen. III. M. 3.], Ibid, pp. 230-231. Dugdale notes that Thomas Tanner (author of Notitia monastica, or a short history of the religious houses in England and Wales [Oxford, 1695, 2nd edition enlarged, ed. by J.Tanner, 1744]) places this charter as having been issued during the reign of Henry II. Therefore the Abbot Hugh is Stephen’s nephew, not the first abbot by that name. BY RUTH HARWOOD CLINE 511 ing secretly for France with his treasure in 1155. Hugh’s half-brothers and half-sister allied themselves by marriage with the king of France during this period.34 Still nominally abbot of Chertsey, Hugh probably fled to France at the same time as Bishop Henry in 1155.According to Robert of Torigni, he obtained the protection of Count Henry and Count Thibaut V of Blois, whom Robert describes as his kinsmen. In 1156, Count Henry endowed Notre Dame d’Arable and Hugh personally “abbot of Chertsey, my brother” with 60 arpents of arable land, 60 arpents of woods, half his field, his vineyard, and a eight leagues of still water below the mill.35 Thus Hugh reestablished himself in France as a religious of Tiron in contact with the court of Champagne by 1156. By 1157 the abbey of St. Peter of Lagny was becoming a problem for Count Henry. Lagny, founded in the seventh century and endowed by the counts of Champagne, was important for several reasons. It was within the jurisdiction of the counts of Champagne but on the western border of the diocese of Sens near Paris and therefore close to the French court. Count Henry’s father Thibaut had been cared for there during his last illness and was buried beside the altar.36 It had a miraculous fountain that attracted pilgrims. It was the site of some splendid tournaments, particularly one given in 1179 at the time of the coronation of Philip-Augustus.37 It was one of the great fair towns, together with Troyes, Provins, and Bar-sur-Aube, with fairs supported and pro34 Louis VII, who had grown fond of the future Count Henry of Champagne during the Second Crusade of 1147, betrothed his daughter Marie, age eight, to him and his daughter Alix to Count Thibaut V of Blois in 1153. Thibaut was appointed royal seneschal in 1154. Louis VII married their sister Adèle in 1160. In 1164 Marie and Alix were married to Henry and Thibaut, and in 1165 Adèle gave birth to the future Philip Augustus.Theodore Evergates,“Louis VII and the Counts of Champagne,” Chapter 11, in The Second Crusade and the Cistercians, ed. Michael Gervers (New York, 1992), pp. 113-114. 35 Merlet, Cartulaire, II, p. 83, No. 310. 36 Shortly after Count Henry I’s accession in 1152 (before April 19), he, his mother, and his brothers Thibaut V, Stephen, and William met at Provins castle in the company of many abbots. Count Henry reduced his right to corody from Lagny and remitted 20 of the 108 modii of wine rent which the abbot’s tenants owed him to establish an anniversary Mass for his father. Count Henry said that he was compensating the abbey of Lagny for the expenses it incurred by their father’s frequent visits there, as well as for Thibaut’s burial. See Jean Mabillon, De re diplomatica libri vi (Paris, 1681), pp. 584585, No. 156, from the Cartulary of Lagny, and Arbois de Jubainville, Histoire des ducs, III, p. 326, No. 4. 37 Sidney Painter, William Marshal, Knight-Errant, Baron, and Regent of England (Baltimore, 1967), pp. 32-33 and 44-46. 512 ABBOT HUGH:AN OVERLOOKED BROTHER OF HENRY I, COUNT OF CHAMPAGNE tected by the counts of Champagne and Brie.38 The Lagny fair was on New Year’s Morrow. The abbey was heavily involved in it,39 and the fair revenues were important to the count.40 A fire burned the town of Lagny in 1157.41 Abbot Geoffrey and Count Henry disagreed at length about the count’s wish to have the abbot build him a defensive tower at Lagny. The count extracted a promise from the abbot,42 but a charter of reconciliation issued in 1159 conveys the count’s anger about the abbot’s refusal to honor it.43 Between March 27 and April 15, 1160, Count Henry gave Lagny 20 sous annually to keep a lamp burning over his father’s tomb.44 Abbot Geoffrey was deposed in 1162, and succeeded by Abbot Hugh I, who was promptly murdered.45 Robert of Torigni describes how Abbot Hugh I was riding in the forest when he was challenged by a stranger.When the abbot threatened the stranger with decapitation or destruction, the stranger shot an arrow through the abbot’s eye and brain. Count Henry could see many benefits in having a close relative in that important position and, with his strong support, his half-brother Hugh became Abbot Hugh II of Lagny in 1163.46 Hugh’s installation was the occasion for a family reunion. 38 Evergates, Feudal Society, pp. 28-36. Arbois de Jubainville, Histoire des ducs, III, p. 329, No. 23. Count Henry, who had forbidden merchants and money changers to stay longer than ten days at the Lagny fair, lifted this ban at the request of the abbot and monks of Lagny in c. 1154. 40 Robert-Henri Bautier, The Economic Development of Medieval Europe, trans. Heather Karolyi (London, 1971), pp. 110-111. 41 “Annales de Lagny,” ed. E. Berger, Bibliothèque de l’Ecole des Chartres, 38 (1877), p. 481:“MCLVII. Combustion Latiniac[ensis]. ” 42 Gallia Christiana, ed. Denis de Saint-Marthe et alii, 16 vols. (Paris, 1716-1865), VII (Paris, 1744), p. 497. 43 Edmund Martène and Ursin Durand, eds., Thesaurus novus anecdotorum (1717, reprinted New York, 1968), p. 447, from the charters of Lagny. 44 Arbois de Jubainville, Histoire des ducs, III, p. 340, No. 80. 45 ”Annales de Lagny,” p. 481:“MCLXII. Hic depositus est abbas Godefridus, cui successit Hugo. MCLXIII. Obiit Hugo abbas, cui successit Hugo, frater comitis Henrici. MCLXV.Natus est Philippus rex, filius Ludovici regis.MCLXXI.Hic dep[ositus est] Hugo, comitis frater, cui successit Garinus.” 46 Richard Howlett, Chronicles of the Reigns of Stephen, Henry II, and Richard I, [Rolls Series, 82], IV: Chronicle of Robert of Torigni, Abbot of the Monastery of St. Michael-in-Peril-of-the-Sea. (London, 1889), pp. 218-219.“Similiter, anno praeterito, cum abbas Latiniacensis equitans invenisset quendam, qui ei forisfecerat, et minaretur ut eum caperet et destrueret, ille emissa sagitta percussit abbatem in oculo usque in cerebrum, et occidit. Cui successit Hugo, naturalis filius comitis Theobaldi senioris. Iste fuit prius monachus Tironis, et tempore Stephani regis patrui sui, per aliquantum temporis fuit abbas Hommensis in Anglia, qua abbatia relicta, fuit abbas Certesiensis. Iterum illa relicta, venit in Franciam ad nepotes suos Henricum et Theobaldum, et sic, ut diximus, factus est abbas Latiniacensis.” 39 BY RUTH HARWOOD CLINE 513 Count Henry I, in the presence of his brothers Count Thibaut V of Blois (and royal seneschal) and William (canon of Soissans, Provins, and Troyes), gave to his brother Hugh, abbot of Lagny, a marshland at Lesches with the right of justice over it.47 Clearly he was on good terms with his illustrious half-brothers. The description of Hugh’s career at Lagny in Gallia Christiana, based on the Annals of Lagny, states that he served the abbey in the best manner. He obtained many assets for Lagny from his brother Henry, count of Champagne, and added gifts of his own for annual prayers for himself after his death. He paid the annual ounce of gold Lagny owed to the papacy and honored its other obligations to the bishop of Porto and Santa Rufina. His purchase of grain from Wido and Adam of Pisaria, from whom Abbot Geoffrey had obtained a tract of land,48 was considered noteworthy.49 In 1171 he was deposed and succeeded by Garinus. Hugh died that same year and was buried at Lagny with his father.50 47 Arbois de Jubainville, Histoire des ducs, III, p. 346, No. 113. Theodore Evergates’s notes taken from B.N. de Paris, Lat. 9902 (Cartulary of Lagny), fol. 25. 48 Gallia Christiana, VII, p. 498: “& acquisivisse legitur a Widone de Pisaria & Adam ipsius fratre totam eorum terram de Plastreia.” 49 Gallia Christiana, VII, pp. 497-498: “XV. Hugo II. Theobaldi Senioris, seu Magni, Campaniae comitis filius nothus, primum Tironii monachus, teste Roberto de Monte, dein tempore Stephani regis patrui sui, per aliquantum temporis fuit abbas Homensis in Anglia, qua abbatia relicta, fuit abbas Cercesiensis, qui iterum illa relicta, venit in Franciam ad nepotes, imo fratres suos Henricum & Theobaldum, & sic, factus est abbas Latiniacensis. post Hugonem primum anno 1163. secundum Latiniacense chronicon. Is multa contulit ad conventus emolumentum, pleraque ex fratris Henrici comitis Trecensis munificentia, quibus & alia ipsemet adjecit dona, ut annuas sibi preces post obitum procuraret, quod anathemate & sigillo capituli firmatum est. Scripsit ad eum Alexander papa III. Senonis v. idus Octobris de uncia auri, quam singulis annis Lateranensi palatio Romae Latiniacensis ecclesia debet, & iterum eadem de re Portuensis episcopus B. quas iisdem solvisse perhibetur, & quidem anno 1164. papae, Berengario vero Portuensi episcopo anno incerto. Emit Hugo Latiniaci abbas frater Henrici comitis a duobus militibus Adam & Widone de Pisaria quinque modios annonae, partim ex frumento, partim ex avena; qui demum de suis optime meritus vivere desiit anno 1171.” 50 Marcel Pouzol, L’Eglise N-Dame des Ardents et St. Pierre de Lagny (Lagny, 1953), p. 13; B.H.,“L’Abbaye Royale de Saint-Pierre de Lagny,” in Revue de Champagne et de Brie, 1 (1876), 136-141, 193-196, 246-250, 385-388, 475-479, and 2 (1877), 58-63, 134-135, states on 247 that Count Thibaut’s raised a porphyry tomb with four marble pilasters adored with flames of silver that is now in the sanctuary of the new choir on the Gospel side [left facing the altar]. In a personal communication dated June 8, 2006, Lucien Philbert, deacon of the parish, states that the tombs no longer exist:“Les tombeaux n’existent plus. Pour les descriptions de ces tombeaux et pour une étude épigraphique des 514 ABBOT HUGH:AN OVERLOOKED BROTHER OF HENRY I, COUNT OF CHAMPAGNE Hugh’s career sheds light on the way an illustrious family incorporated a natural child into its kinship network. Hugh enjoyed the patronage of his father, uncles, and half brothers, who supported his monastic vocation and obtained important positions for him in England and France. He also suffered personally when Stephen’s position was weakened. As a monk of Tiron, he was trained to impose a stricter interpretation of the Rule of Saint Benedict on his abbeys, and he furthered Stephen’s support of reformed monasticism. He was a strong abbot and a capable administrator who promoted the interests of the houses of Blois and Champagne with loyalty and reliability. This article on Hugh cannot be concluded without noting a striking literary parallel.The discovery of Hugh resulted from a search for the identity of the poet Chrétien de Troyes, who created the Arthurian romance as a literary genre.51 Chrétien’s identity is a matter of speculation, as is the manner in which he acquired detailed factual knowledge of Norfolk and Southern England, particularly Windsor Castle. Count Henry’s court supported many writers, but Chretien’s works are a special case.They are long, well-structured romances in verse, carefully re-crafted, which required years to write and prepare for public reading. Their length and literary background suggest that Chrétien was an aristocrat with an ecclesiastical benefice or a position at court from which he derived an independent income, together with oppor- pierres tombales, voir la Bibliothèque Nationale aux références suivantes: MS 6356 Collection de Champagne 18, Folio 28, et description par Dubuisson Aubenoy folios 182 et 185 et Bibl. Nat. lat. 13818 EXCENPTA EX Chartularus necrologis folio 78.” 51 Constance Bullock-Davies, “Chrétien de Troyes and England,” in Arthurian Literature, I, ed. Richard Barber (Woodbridge, Sullfolk, 1981), pp. 1-61. Chrétien de Troyes had visited the fountain of Barenton in the forest of Paimpont, Brittany, and had seen Windsor Castle under construction (1168-1174). During the period between Erec and Cligès, 1169-1174, he was strongly influenced by the works of Ovid and the Tristan legend, which suggests attendance at a court where such works were in vogue. He claimed to have obtained the source of William of England at the Abbey of Bury St. Edmunds, Norfolk, and of Cligès at the cathedral church of Beauvais, and he entrusted his uncompleted romance of Lancelot to a clerk named Geoffrey of Lagny, from that Champagne fair town east of Paris. See D. J. Shirt,“Godefroi de Lagny et la Composition de la ‘Charrete’,” Romania 96 (1975), 27-52. The force of circumstances, probably Count Henry’s decision to leave for the Holy Land in 1179, obliged the poet to find a writer to finish the Lancelot, dedicated to Countess Marie, while he began Perceval for a new patron, Philip, count of Flanders. Perceval shows that Chrétien knew such details of the youth of Count Henry’s nephew Philip Augustus, king of France, as an incident before his coronation in 1179 when the prince was lost in the forest and led back to court by a charcoal-seller. BY RUTH HARWOOD CLINE 515 tunities to travel to Brittany and England and the leisure to write and polish his works. Despite conjecture that Chrétien was a minstrel who picked up his literary references from educated courtiers and his information about England at the great fair at Troyes, the members of the house of Blois-Champagne seemed a more likely source of transmission of literary material and the matter of Britain. A landing at a port below Southampton and the road from there to Winchester are mentioned in Chrétien’s Cligès, and Glastonbury was a center of Arthurian legends. Hugh’s residences in Norfolk and in Chertsey near Windsor were a close match for the places mentioned in Chrétien’s early romances: William of England and Cligès. Chrétien might well have acquired information about England through contact with these prelates. In the wars that raged following Stephen’s succession, he sustained injuries similar to those of the maimed Fisher King in Perceval 52 whose impotence has turned his realm into a Waste Land. With regard to the identity of Chrétien de Troyes and the transmission of the matter of Britain, the coincidences in places associated with the bishop and abbot suggest that religious communities may have been as deeply interested in Arthurian literature as the aristocratic courts. A century after Hugh’s death, c. 1260-1280, Chertsey Abbey was decorated with tiles illustrating the romance of Tristan and Isolde,53 a story reworked by Chrétien in a lost work and in his great romances Cligès and Lancelot. In view of the connections between Count Henry and Hugh, the decision to illustrate this unmonastic topic may reflect sustained interest at Chertsey in the Arthurian legends encouraged by an earlier abbot. As a cleric with close ties to the court of Champagne, Chrétien might have accompanied or visited Count Henry’s uncle or halfbrother. Such travel would have brought him to Lagny, to the Southampton Water and Winchester, to Windsor, and possibly to the great shrine at Bury St. Edmunds in the Fen country. Such contacts 52 Chrétien describes the rich and hospitable Fisher King as “a handsome nobleman with grayed hair,”“wise and courteous,”‘but in a battle he was lamed,/ so badly wounded, he was maimed. /He cannot move and must have aid./ Hurt by a wound a javelin made/ between his thighs, the king is still/ in such pain, it’s impossible/ for him to ride, but when he wishes/ to spend some pleasant hours, he fishes.” Chrétien de Troyes, Perceval or the Story of the Grail, trans. Ruth Harwood Cline (Athens, Georgia, 1985), 3086-87, 3498, 3509-3516. 53 Roger Sherman Loomis, Illustrations of Medieval Romance on Tiles from Chertsey (Urbana, Illinois, 1916). 516 ABBOT HUGH:AN OVERLOOKED BROTHER OF HENRY I, COUNT OF CHAMPAGNE would account for the place names in his romances as well as the possibility that his description of the Fisher King was modeled after Hugh in old age. The poet’s identity remains a matter of conjecture, but scholars who find royal prototypes in Chrétien’s Perceval , such as the hero’s resemblance to the young Philip Augustus, will find support by the similarities between Philip Augustus’s half-uncle Hugh and the rich, maimed Fisher King. THE HUMAN BODY AS A UNIVERSE: UNDERSTANDING HEAVEN BY VISUALIZATION AND SENSIBILITY IN JESUIT CARTOGRAPHY IN CHINA BY HUI-HUNG CHEN* This paper discusses the religious meaning of Jesuit world maps that were produced in China by their missionaries from the late sixteenth to the seventeenth centuries.These world maps serve as a visual proof to emphasize the greatness of the world and the minuscule nature of man, and by means of these maps man “can see” the truth of God because of the visual ability granted via God’s omnipotence. Jesuit cartography is not only a visual image of geographical configuration. It paved the way for the comprehension of the Creator’s significance. It was an embodiment of the Renaissance tradition of cartography as the graphical representation of the universe, which included the idea of understanding nature through mathematical science as well as of understanding Heaven by visualization and sensibility. In this Renaissance tradition, geography was associated with cosmology that was based upon Christian theology, and Aristotle’s sensibility toward the comprehension of the universe formed the core of Catholic epistemology and natural philosophy. The religious implications of Jesuit cartography in China explain how the Jesuits could have used it strategically in their evangelization. *Dr. Chen is an assistant professor of history in National Taiwan University, Taiwan. The final version of this paper was revised according to the constructive comments of two anonymous reviewers. She wishes to express her deep gratitude to them, and especially for the detailed line-by-line comments and rewording provided by one of them. This article is a revised version of an earlier paper with the same title presented at the Second International Junior Scholars’ Conference on Sinology, National Tsing Hua University, Hsinchu,Taiwan, in November 2004. The author is grateful to the commentator and the professors from the university for their insights and suggestions. The conference paper had been revised from her dissertation,“Encounters in Peoples, Religions, and Sciences: Jesuit Visual Culture in Seventeenth Century China” (Ph.D. dissertation, Brown University, 2004). She would like to express gratitude to her adviser, Professor Jeffrey Muller, for his advice on the original research, and to Professor Pingyi Chu, an associate fellow of the Institute of History and Philology at the Academia Sinica,Taiwan, and the adviser of Dr. Chen’s postdoctoral project, as the revision was carried out while she was a postdoctoral fellow at the Academia Sinica. This work and the publication are supported in part by National Taiwan University of Taiwan under Grant No. 95R0033-4, and National Science Council (NSC) of Taiwan Grant No. NSC 95-2411-H-002-023. 517 518 THE HUMAN BODY AS A UNIVERSE In his preface to the world map Wanguo quantu (Universal Map of Countries), which was made in China around 1620, the Jesuit missionary Giulio Aleni (1582-1649) states,“The human body is a small universe” (Fig. 1): Although my body in the universe is so minuscule and only one point, the capacities of the soul were endowed by the Creator, so that I can comprehend the whole Heaven and Earth and come to some understanding of the real master of the universe. It is said: the so-called human body is a small universe. Because we believe in this and understand that the physical body is so small in size, we will not become haughty. Moreover, because our intellectual mind—in contrast to the small physical body—will perceive the supreme greatness, there is no reason to abandon oneself and be selfderogatory. If we understand all of these things, the Heaven and Earth seen by the eyes are not illusory.1 In Aleni’s eyes, the whole human body bears the full meaning of the universe. On the one hand, the world map serves as a visual proof to emphasize the greatness of the world and the minuscule nature of the human; on the other hand, because of the ability to visualize—one of the talents granted to us by an all-powerful God, humans “can see” through, and by means of a world map to perceive the truth of God. With God’s grace, one understands the value of man, and therefore we should not undervalue ourselves. It thus appears that Jesuit cartography is not only “a visual image of a geographical configuration.”2 It also paved the way for the comprehension of the Creator’s significance. 1 Giulio Aleni, Wanguo tu xiaoyin (Little Preface of the Wanguo tu). It only appears in an edition of Aleni’s Wanguo quantu in the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana (BAV), call number Barberini Oriente 151 (1a). A modern facsimile of this map is provided by Howard L. Goodman,“Paper Obelisks: East Asia in the Vatican Vaults,” in Rome Reborn: The Vatican Library and Renaissance Culture, ed. Anthony Grafton (Washington, 1993), p. 259. 2 This term is appropriated from Donald Lach’s term “visual image of Asia’s configuration” of European printed maps, see his work Asia in the Making of Europe, vol. 1, bk. 1 (Chicago, 1965), p. 218. BY HUI-HUNG CHEN 519 Fig. 1. Giulio Aleni, Wanguo quantu (Universal Map of Countries), c. 1620, woodcut and color on paper, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana,Vatican City, Barberini Oriente 151 (1a), © Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana,Vatican City This paper intends to discuss the religious meaning of Jesuit world maps produced in China by their missionaries from the late Ming to the early Qing periods. Aleni’s statement quoted above reveals a method by which the Jesuits interpreted world maps, and a meaning that may have been given to this Jesuit cartography destined for the Chinese people. The “method” and “meaning” are both related to the religious dimension of the Jesuits. Cartography was a very important aspect of the Jesuits’ China mission strategy in terms of both visual culture and sciences. How Jesuits used cartography as part of their visual methods of evangelization is a topic that needs to be investigated. The linkage between art and science, something unfamiliar in Chinese culture, was practiced in Early Modern Europe, and thus known to the Jesuits. Perhaps, due to this condition, Jesuit cartography in China was rarely discussed as it pertained to visual culture, and it has been much 520 THE HUMAN BODY AS A UNIVERSE more considered among the scientific achievements of the missionaries, and thus valued from scientific perspectives.3 Cartography as art and art in cartography are complicated historical questions in western civilization. Recent scholarly studies from the perspectives of both the history of cartography and the history of art have attempted to elaborate on the sophisticated nature of cartography. Their methodological reflections on the relationships between artistic and scientific methods, between form and content, and between aesthetics and function have led to stimulating discussions in several areas of scholarship.4 Cartography as “a graphic mode of expression” or “a visual image of geographical configuration” should not be excluded from the topic of visual culture.5 Cartography is regarded as an “art,” in the current tendency to treat it as a “genre of pictorial image,” to borrow Marcia Kupfer’s term.6 Reading maps is a process of reading images, so the iconographical character of maps becomes the central theme of the interpretation. Particularly interesting is that the Jesuit mapping techniques demonstrated a visual language different, both in form and content, from what was presented in the local traditions. This visual language, as I will argue, cannot be understood without the missionary contexts. Therefore, the religious dimension in the Jesuit cartography is crucial for deciphering that visuality, for a religious meaning is embedded into the iconography of their maps.Thanks to recent scholarship on the question of cartography as art, we are encouraged to investigate the iconography of Jesuit cartography in China, then to look for the religious meaning associated with the iconography.We can understand Aleni’s words in the above quotation to be a Jesuit iconographical interpretation of the world map. This paper will discuss the religious meaning of the Jesuit world maps in China by looking into how and by what means the Jesuits presented and interpreted their “graphic mode of expression” or “visual image of 3 For instance, the recently comprehensive reference to the Jesuits or Christianity in China put the topic “cartography” under the category of “science and technology,” separate from the category of “arts, crafts, and language.” See Nicolas Standaert, ed., Handbook of Christianity in China, Volume One, (635-1800) (Leiden, 2001), pp. 752, 809. 4 For a review of these scholarly reflections about cartography, see David Woodward’s introduction to the book edited by him, Art and Cartography—Six Historical Essays (Chicago, 1987), pp. 1-9. 5 The term “a graphic mode of expression” comes from Sergio Bosticco,“Cosmology and Cartography,” in Encyclopedia of World Art, vol. 3 (New York, 1960), p. 836; for the term “a visual image of geographical configuration,” please see note 2 above. 6 Marcia Kupfer,“Medieval World Maps: Embedded Images, Interpretive Frames,” Word and Image 10 (July-September, 1994), 262. BY HUI-HUNG CHEN 521 geographical configuration” to the Chinese. The method that the Jesuits used, within the framework of European cartography, is summed up in two categories: visualization and sensibility. Jesuit World Maps in China The world map of Matteo Ricci’s (1552-1610) is the first European example of its kind presented to the Chinese. Ricci displayed his map to the Chinese for the first time in 1583-84 in Zhaoqing , a prefecture of the Province of Guangdong ( ), almost immediately after he arrived in Macau in 1582.7 It is obvious that Ricci had brought this map with him from Europe. In the Jesuit educational system, mathematics and astronomy were among the basic training courses for Jesuit students and were seen as a necessary preparation for theological studies.8 Maps could be used as visual material embodying the teachings of mathematics and astronomy. Ricci probably brought maps for the Jesuits’ own academic uses, that is for the same reason that he imported mathematical devices such as the globe and clocks. It is not surprising to notice that Euclid’s geometry, arithmetic, geography and cosmography, perspective, and horology—assigned courses for Jesuit mathematical training—can all be found in their theoretical and material fields for the Jesuit China mission.9 Jesuit engagement in mathematical and astronomical knowledge should be understood within the larger Jesuit intellectual structure. Given the study of these disciplines as preparation for divine knowledge, their introduction to the Chinese was aimed at persuading non-Christians to study Heavenly doctrines, in Chinese tianxue (literally meaning “Heavenly Studies”). Among the several European books brought into China by the Jesuits in the early years of the mission, Abraham Ortelius’ Theatrum orbis terrarum (Antwerp, 1570) was the only European publication whose title Ricci included in his list of objects presented to the 7 Pasquale M. d’Elia, Fonti Ricciane: Documenti originali concernenti Matteo Ricci a la storia delle prime relazioni tra l’Europa e la Cina (1579-1615). Storia dell’ introduzione del Cristianesimo in Cina scritta da Matteo Ricci, 3 vols. (Rome, 1942-1949), I, p. 207. 8 Nicolas Standaert,“The Classification of Sciences and the Jesuit Mission in Late Ming China,” in Linked Faiths: Essays on Chinese Religions & Traditional Culture in Honour of Kristofer Schipper, ed. Jan A. M. De Meyer and Peter M. Engelfriet (Leiden, 2000), pp. 287-317. 9 For these Jesuit mathematical courses, see Giuseppe Cosentino, “Le Matematiche nella «Ratio Studiorum» della Compagnia di Gesù,” in Miscellanea storica ligure, vol. 2 (Genoa, 1970), pp. 171-213; also refer to Allan P. Farrell, S. J., trans., The Jesuit Ratio Studiorum of 1599 (Washington, D. C., 1970). 522 THE HUMAN BODY AS A UNIVERSE Chinese Emperor.10 However, Pasquale D’Elia, the remarkable scholar on Ricci’s œuvre, has argued that the European map Ricci displayed in Zhaoqing could have not been Ortelius’ atlas since the latter arrived on the mainland at a later date, and that there are not enough existing sources to be certain which map Ricci showed at the time.11 The first public appearance of the European-style world map, shown by Ricci in 1583-84, brought about telling reactions from local people, including that of the Prefect of Zhaoqing ( ) Wang Pan .Wang urged Ricci to annotate the map in Chinese and to print and distribute it all over China.The first edition of Ricci’s world map in Chinese was entitled Shanhai yudi quantu (Universal Map of Mountain, Sea, and Geography) or Yudi shanhai quantu (Universal Map of Geography, Mountain, and Sea).12 Afterwards this map was repeatedly revised and reprinted, for example, in Nanchang (c. 1596), Nanjing (1600), and Beijing (1601-1603).13 The Beijing example of 1602 was supervised by Li Zhizao (c. 1564-1630), and developed a refined format with additional supplementary contents and commentaries. This was the exemplar most often cited, and the final version of Ricci’s mappamundi was re-entitled Kunyu wanguo quantu (Universal Map of the World and Countries) (Fig. 2).14 The 1603 edition from Beijing is also in a larger scale and format even than the one of 1602, and entitled Liangyi xuanlan tu (Universal Map of the Heaven and Earth). Although this 10 D’Elia, Fonti Ricciane, II, pp. 90, 114, 123; Nicolas Trigault (1577-1628), China in the Sixteenth Century: The Journal of Matthew Ricci: 1583-1610, trans. Louis J. Gallagher (New York, 1953), p. 364. 11 Pasquale D’Elia, trans. and anno., Il Mappamondo Cinese del P. Matteo Ricci S.I. (Vatican City, 1938), p. 169; D’Elia, Fonti Ricciane, I, p. 207. 12 D’Elia, Fonti Ricciane, I, pp. 207-209; II, pp. 58-59. 13 About the history of the printing of Ricci’s world maps, the following studies are still seen as of the most comprehensive: Hung Weiliang ,“Kao Limadou de shijie ditu” (On the World Map of Matteo Ricci), Yu gong ban yue kan (The Chinese Historical Geography) 5 (1936), 2-5; Fang Hao , Li zhizao yanjiu (On Li Zhizao) (Taipei, 1966), pp. 78-79; Cao Wanru et al., “Zhongguo xiancun limadou shijie ditu de yanjiu” (Study of the World Map of Matteo Ricci Extant in China), Wenwu 12 (1983), 57-70. At least sixteen copies and editions of Ricci’s mappamundi dated from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries are extant in Europe, China,Taiwan, and Japan. 14 In addition to D’Elia’s Il Mappamondo, the earlier reprint and annotation of the 1602 version at the BAV, the latest full modern facsimile of this edition, with a complete enlargement of every division of the map, was published from the one housed in the Library of the Miyagi Prefecture , see Li Madou (Matteo Ricci), ed., Li madou kunyu wanguo quantu (Universal Map of the World and Countries of Matteo Ricci) (Tokyo, 1996). BY HUI-HUNG CHEN 523 Fig. 2. Matteo Ricci, Kunyu wanguo quantu (Universal Map of the World and Countries), 1602, woodcut on paper, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vatican City, Barberini Oriente 150 (1-6), © Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana,Vatican City 1603 edition was expanded to eight vertical scrolls, compared to the six scrolls of the Kunyu wanguo quantu, in principle it follows the 1602 edition. However, this edition is less well known because of the fewer extant copies and versions based on it. Ricci’s map certainly gained much interest and popularity, as many revisions and reprints were made up to 1603 in China, and even later in Japan.15 The universal mapping method of Ricci is basically founded on Ptolemy’s model, but it seems intentionally to modify China’s position with respect to the other continents by placing China in the middle (the fourth scroll from the right side).16 This can be demonstrated when Ricci’s map is compared with a European world map of the same time, for instance, with one from Abraham Ortelius’ Theatrum orbis terrarum, a version of which was sent to the Chinese court (China on the 15 Although several European maps, such as those by Ortelius and Gerard Mercator, were also brought to Japan via missionaries, Ricci’s world map, serving as the standard format in the mandarin style for neighboring Japan, played a significant role in the modern world cartography of this country. One annotation of a Japanese mappamundi of the eighteenth century (1775) states that Ricci’s map was the harbinger of western cartography introduced to the East that projected a three-dimensional object on a flat surface (“ ”). This Ja se map was entitled Chikyu Bankoku Sankai Yochi Zenzusetsu (Revised Earth Map of Countries), under the authorship of Sekisiu Nagakubo, housed in the John Carter Brown Library, Brown University, Providence, U.S.A. (without a shelf number).The Library has two copies of this, one published in Mito, the other in Osaka. 16 D’Elia, Fonti Ricciane, I, pp. 208-211. 524 THE HUMAN BODY AS A UNIVERSE Fig. 3. Abraham Ortelius, World Map, from Theatrum orbis terrarium, 1570, color engraving, Leiden University Library, The Netherlands, Atlas 36, © Leiden University Library, Leiden, The Netherlands far right side) (Fig. 3). Although, in contrast to the Chinese mapping traditions, the size of China was diminished on Ricci’s map in order to present an appearance of China relative to the rest of the world, the map’s overall modification was a concession to local mapping traditions. And yet, the position of China on the whole scale of the world in terms of both quantity and quality, still produced a culturally shocking visual experience for the Chinese. One anecdote, about a president of Nanjing looking at the world map that Ricci wanted to present to the Chinese Emperor, could be the first written record detailing a direct response to this new visual material from a Chinese scholar, Wang Zhongming , President of the Board of Rites of Nanjing ( ): The President took great pleasure in studying this tablet [on which the world map was drawn], wondering that he could see the great expanse of the world depicted on such a small surface, and that it contained the names of so many new kingdoms and a list of their customs. He would examine it over and over again and very attentively, in an effort to memorize this new idea of the world.17 17 Trigault, China in the Sixteenth Century, p. 301; the relevant but briefer passage in D’Elia, Fonti Ricciane, II, p. 13. BY HUI-HUNG CHEN 525 According to Ricci’s own account, his observations of popular, selforiented Chinese conventions in mapping the world were based on his studies of Chinese cartography, thus he might have foreseen the possible effect of his European-based map on Chinese traditions.18 In his famous work on Ricci’s map, the Chinese scholar Hung Weiliang, , held that Ricci’s interest in Chinese geography upon his arrival in China explained why he endeavored to translate European geography into Chinese.19 One of the most important sources Ricci used for his mapping was Guang yu tu (Atlas of Universal Land), an atlas based on the work of an earlier cartographer, Zhu Siben (1273-1333), expanded and revised in the sixteenth century by Luo Hongxian (1504-1564) and first printed in 1555. This cartographical work had a wide influence on the Chinese geographical tradition.20 According to Zhang Zhejia , the mapping style shown in the maps of the Guang yu tu was aimed at accuracy, in contrast to a popular sketchy style seen in several types of maps produced by the local gazetteers of Ming China.21 If the Guang yu tu pursued accuracy in mapping more than other traditional cartographical modes, Ricci’s reliance on it could correspond to the missionary’s intention to offer a better and more precise mapping skill to the Chinese. After Ricci’s maps (1583-1603), Giulio Aleni’s world map Wanguo quantu was made around 1620, following Ricci’s format and contents. This world map was included in some editions of Aleni’s geographical work, Zhifang waiji (Descriptions of Foreign Land), his preface to which is dated 1623.This preface states that another Jesuit,Diego de Pantoja (1571-1618), on the command of the emperor, had translated a different European map, also following Ricci’s model, but we have no direct knowledge of this work at the present.22 Aleni’s Wanguo quantu is much smaller in size (49 cm ⫻ 24 cm) than Ricci’s Kunyu wanguo 18 D’Elia, Fonti Ricciane, I, pp. 207-210. Hung,“Kao Limadou,” p. 7. 20 For the Guang yu tu’s influence on Ricci’s geographical work in Chinese, see Goodman,“Paper Obelisks,” p. 257. 21 Zhang Zhejia , “Mingdai fangzhi de ditu” (The Maps in the Local Gazetteers of the Ming Dynasty), in Jindai zhongguo de shijue biaoshu yu wenhua goutu (The Visual Representations and Cultural Mappings in Early Modern China), ed. Huang Kewu (Taipei, 2003), pp. 184-207. 22 One edition of the Zhi fang wai ji, including Aleni’s world map, is reproduced in its modern facsimile, see Giulio Aleni, Zhi fang wai ji (Descriptions of Foreign Lands), in Congshu jicheng chubian (The First Compilation of Various Books) (Shanghai, 1936). Aleni mentioning Pantoja is on the preface’s page 1 of this facsimile. 19 526 THE HUMAN BODY AS A UNIVERSE Fig. 4. Ferdinand Verbiest, Kunyu quantu (Universal Map of the World), 1674, woodcut and color on paper, Kobe City Museum, Japan, © Kobe City Museum, Kobe, Japan quantu (each scroll of which is 174 cm ⫻ 67 cm, and a total of six scrolls vertically connected); therefore, the former could be easily made to fit into the Zhifang waiji.23 The Jesuit Francesco Sambiasi (15821649) composed and annotated another world map, entitled Kunyu quantu (Universal Map of the World), in Nan-jing in 1633.24 The most important Jesuit publication of the world map for the China 23 Here the size of the Wanguo quantu is taken from Takato Tokio’s catalogue for the edition housed in BAV, call number Barberini Oriente 151 (1a) and (1b) (two copies), see P. Pelliot, Inventaire sommaire des manuscrits et imprimés chinois de la Bibliothèque Vaticane, ed. Takata Tokio (Kyoto, 1995). The one with the number 151 (1a) has a single image alone, above a preface written by Aleni and the colored Wanguo quantu below. That of 151 (1b) is also a single yet uncolored sheet with the Wanguo quantu above and the Beiyu ditu (Northern Polar Hemisphere Map) and Nanyu ditu (Southern Polar Hemisphere Map) below. This one is identified as the same as the other extant copies of this work housed in the Biblioteca Ambrosiana, Milan, and in the Biblioteca nazionale centrale di Roma, Rome (call number 72C494 1&2). For the one in Ambrosiana, the following catalogue wrongly attributed it to Ricci: Paolo Revelli, I Codici Ambrosiani di contenuto geografico, vol. 1 of Fontes Ambrosiani (Milano, 1929), p. 188. The information in this catalogue offers the similar measurement (49.4 cm ⫻ 24.3 cm) as that of BAV’s.The old attribution could be seen as a result of the prominence of Ricci’s role in translating the European cartographical mode into Chinese for the traditional European scholarship.As for Ricci’s map, the measuring information also comes from Takata’s catalogue for the edition in BAV, call number Barberini Oriente 150 (1-6). This one serves as the subject of D’Elia’s Il Mappamondo. 24 There are six copies of the Kunyu quantu known at present. See the most recent research of Paolo de Troia and Ann Heirman,“The World-Map of Father Franceso Sambiasi (1582-1649)”(paper presented at the XVth Biennial Conference of the European Association of Chinese Studies (EACS), University of Heidelberg, Germany,August 25-29, 2004). BY HUI-HUNG CHEN 527 mission in the second half of the seventeenth century is the Kunyu quantu (1674) of Ferdinand Verbiest (1623-1688). It bears the same title as Sambiasi’s, yet is in a different format (each scroll 179 cm ⫻ 54 cm, a total of eight scrolls vertically connected) (Fig. 4).Verbiest’s map consists of two hemispheres, and the two outer scrolls individually depict cartouches that contain several kinds of information on geography and meteorology. This projection, which had been devised by the famous cartographer Gerard Mercator (1512-1594) in his Orbis terrae compendiosa descriptio (1587), depicts a different mode from the Ptolemiac one, that was illustrated in Ricci’s, Aleni’s, and Sambiasi’s representations of universal cartography. Although Verbiest’s Kunyu quantu was the first Chinese translation of a Mercator projection, we can see a map made with this mapping method that had hung previously on the wall of the Beijing studio of the Jesuit Johann Adam Schall von Bell (1591-1666), in a depiction of this missionary’s office found in China Illustrata (1667) of the Jesuit Athanasius Kircher (1602-1680) (Fig. 5). The making of Verbiest’s Kunyu quantu was intended to meet the interest of the Kangxi emperor, as Verbiest’s introductory dedication implies.There are at least fourteen to fifteen copies and editions of this map dating from the seventeenth century currently extant in Europe, Japan,Taiwan,America, and Australia.25 Through the above brief history of the Jesuits’ making of the world map in the China mission, we can see why the missionaries introduced such a map from the very beginning and how the ensuing development was part of the important work of some major missionaries. Most maps described here were printed. That the Jesuits made use of the Chinese printing industry to distribute the European mode of the uni25 For the above information about Verbiest’s Kunyu quantu, see Lin Tongyang , “Ferdinand Verbiest’s Contribution to Chinese Geography and Cartography,” in Ferdinand Verbiest: Jesuit Missionary, Scientist, Engineer and Diplomat, ed. John W. Witek (Nettetal, 1994), pp. 136-138; and his “Nanhuairen de shijie ditu—kunyu quantu” (Ferdinand Verbiest’s World Map—Kunyu quantu), Donghai daxue lishi xuebao (Bulletin of the Graduate Institute of History and the Department of History Tunghai University) 5 (1982), 69-84; Christine Vertente, “Nan Huai-Jen’s Maps of the World,” in Succès et échecs de la rencontre Chine et Occident, du XVIe au XXe siècle (San Francisco, 1993), pp. 257-263; Monique Cohen and Nathalie Monnet, Impressions de Chine (Paris, 1992), pp. 126-127. However, there is one copy or edition of Verbiest’s Kunyu quantu never mentioned by the above three articles, i. e., the one hanging on a side wall of the public entry lobby of BAV, entitled Mappamonde Terreste (1674 ed.), in contrast to Johann Adam Schall von Bell’s Planisfero Celeste (1634 ed.) on the opposite wall. Both works do not have shelf numbers, so they are not entered in any of the library’s catalogues. 528 THE HUMAN BODY AS A UNIVERSE Fig. 5. Johann Adam Schall von Bell, from Athanasius Kircher’s China Illustrata, 1667, engraving, Stanford University, U.S.A., RBC DS708. K58 1667F, © Department of Special Collections, Stanford University Libraries, Stanford, U.S.A. versal cartography is seen in the several editions and copies of Ricci’s and Verbiest’s maps. Ricci’s and other later Jesuits’ studies of Chinese geography for making the world map were meant to incorporate the growing knowledge about “China” into the “geography of Jesuit knowledge,” to use the phrase of Steven Harris.26 This Jesuit case in China exemplified the “local” and “distributed” characters of their scientific knowledge, the term “distributed” referring to Jesuit efforts to translate 26 Steven J. Harris, “Mapping Jesuit Science: The Role of Travel in the Geography of Knowledge,” in The Jesuits: Cultures, Sciences, and the Arts 1540-1773, ed. John W. O’Malley, S.J., et al. (Toronto, 1999), p. 214. The following discussion about the “local”and “distributed” characters of scientific knowledge, the Jesuit geographical network, and the corporate or organized travels all refer to Harris’s theoretical framework, see esp. pp. 214-216. This theory intends to answer why the Society of Jesus published a great amount of works on geography and natural science. BY HUI-HUNG CHEN 529 a European-based map into a Chinese printed version, and to introduce new geographical knowledge of China back to Europe.27 Under this theoretical framework, we can say that the value of Jesuit cartography in China is contextualized within the Jesuit institutional geographical network, in the sense of Jesuit corporate or organized travels and missions, which played a significant role for the Society. In this broader Jesuit context, the religious meaning of these world maps in China can hardly be dismissed, because they were made in conjunction with the evangelical concerns of the missionaries. The Reception of Jesuit Cartography by the Chinese What Jesuit cartography communicated to the Chinese people can be seen in the Chinese perception of European cartography. This perception illustrates the differences between two cartographical traditions.While the Jesuits tried to convey implicit Christian messages by their strategic manipulation of cartography, the Chinese perceived these messages in different ways. First, Jesuit cartography in China communicated to the Chinese the geographical knowledge of the world, from a European perspective. Along with their geographical works composed in Chinese, such as Aleni’s Zhifang waiji and Verbiest’s Kunyu tushuo (On the Cartography of the World) (1672), the Jesuit world maps portray countries other than China, all of which are drawn comparatively to scale. By so doing, they place the geographical position of China within the global framework more correctly than did the old Chinese geographical tradition. Ricci’s Kunyu wanguo quantu and Aleni’s Wanguo quantu both employ wanguo (literally, tens of thousands of countries) in their titles, and in fact emphasize the comparative scale of the world in contrast to the domination of China, as it had been portrayed formerly in Chinese geography and ideology. For Ricci and the Jesuits, one secular and strategic purpose for using the European geographical knowledge in the missions was to eradicate Chinese fear of the missionaries and of their countries, which were considered by 27 For the Jesuits’ introducing new knowledge of China to Europe and the ensuing new style of maps of Asia in Europe, see Boleslaw Szcześniak,“The Seventeenth Century Maps of China: An Inquiry into the Compilations of European Cartographers,” Imago Mundi 13 (1956), 116-136;Theodore N. Foss,“A Western Interpretation of China: Jesuit Cartography,“ in East Meets West: The Jesuits in China, 1582-1773, ed. Charles E. Ronan and Bonnie B. C. Oh (Chicago, 1988), pp. 209-251; the same author as above, “Cartography,” in Standaert, Handbook of Christianity in China, pp. 752-770. 530 THE HUMAN BODY AS A UNIVERSE Chinese authority as inhabited by barbarians in the first instance and as a political and military threat as well. By means of the pictorial format of the European cartographical model, the Jesuits could explain the real geographical distance between Europe and China, thus showing that the potential political and military threat did not exist. Additionally, architectural and other books, showing the beauty of European cities, palaces, and other structures, served as a “geographical explanation” in order to enhance Chinese knowledge of Europe.28 Ricci himself presented the following prints to the Chinese court in 1601, as recorded in his account: prints of the building of St. Lawrence of the Escurial of Spain, and of the church of St. Mark of Venice, along with the arms of the Signoria.29 In addition to Ricci’s account, a similar request appears in a letter written by the Jesuit Lazzaro Cattaneo (1560-1640) on October 12, 1599, that indicates that “alguas cousas di architectura e uarias impressa di paços & de g’ la muito em Roma (some architectural objects and various prints of parks and of the [city] wall in Rome)” were needed for the China mission.30 Like the world maps, the information revealed by these architectural sources attempted to direct the Chinese audience to an improved concept of Europe and European geography. Therefore, this introduction to a fuller vision of the world through European cartographical models was a completely new experience for the Chinese both in visual format and contents. If we consider Samuel Edgerton’s “mental matrix” theory for the present discussion, the reading of Jesuit world maps by the Chinese might have presented a visual challenge to the local people. Edgerton thought that the western and eastern mental matrices for mapping were opposites of each other. The Chinese grid pattern superimposed on the world appears to have been “centripetal—aiming at a central focus,” which is different from the western grid, that was “centrifugal—aiming at expansion and domination.”31 As seen from a map of the whole of China made by the Chinese in the seventeenth century, the way towards the center of China is prominent (Fig. 6). Although this kind of the map meant the whole China, it usually and meanwhile meant the whole world in Chinese perception.This idea of centripetal movement from the east28 D’Elia, Fonti Ricciane, I, pp. 211, 259. D’Elia, Fonti Ricciane, II, p. 131. 30 ARSI (Archivum Romanum Societatis Iesu, Rome, Italy), JapSin 13-I, fol. 319v. 31 Samuel Y. Edgerton, Jr.,“From Mental Matrix to Mappamundi to Christian Empire: The Heritage of Ptolemy Cartography in the Renaissance,” in Woodward, Art and Cartography, pp. 10-50, and Woodward’s introduction in this book, p. 4. 29 BY HUI-HUNG CHEN 531 Fig. 6. Yuji tu (Map of the Tracks of Emperor Yu), woodcut, from Wang Qi , comp., Sancai tuhui , dili 13 (juan), pp. 49-51, from an edition of 1609, Fu-ssu Nien Library, Institute of History and Philology, Academia Sinica, Taiwan, A041 033, © Institute of History and Philology, Academia Sinica,Taipei,Taiwan ern perspective is demonstrated especially well in a political geography, which actually dominated the geographical and cartographical traditions of China over centuries (Fig. 7).32 A popular style of mapping in Chinese local gazetteers also shows a centripetal point of view, i.e., it indicates that the perspective of the maker centers first on the important governmental building of the city or town, such as the city hall, and then looks outward. The central governmental building is enlarged, while the marginal areas appear diminished, even neglected (Fig. 8).33 Perhaps, the contrast between the eastern and western conceptions for “mapping” countries and peoples on a universal scale is a 32 John Henderson, “Chinese Cosmographical Thought: The High Intellectual Tradition,” in The History of Cartography, ed. J. B. Harley and David Woodward, vol. 2, bk. 2 (Chicago, 1994), pp. 203-213. 33 Zhang,“Mingdai fangzhi,” pp. 190-212. 532 THE HUMAN BODY AS A UNIVERSE Fig. 7. Zhou jiufu tu (Diagram of the Nine Domains of the Zhou), woodcut, from Hu Wei , Yu gong zhuizhi (written 1694-97), from an edition of 1705, Fu-ssu Nien Library, Institute of History and Philology, Academia Sinica, Taiwan, 093.31 313, © Institute of History and Philology, Academia Sinica,Taipei,Taiwan better and more thoughtful way to explain local responses resulting from different visual experiences. The explanation can further our understanding of Chinese curiosity, as shown in the account of Wang Zhongming looking at Ricci’s map. Second, this new geographical knowledge and representative format of world cartography had to direct the Chinese to an inevitable scientific fact: the Earth is a sphere. European cartographical projections were carried out based upon this fact, which was again contrary to the traditional Chinese concept: that the Earth is flat or square. In BY HUI-HUNG CHEN 533 Fig. 8. Town plan, woodcut, from Wanli suian xianzhi (Gazetteers of the County of Suian of the Wanli Period), from an edition of 1612, National Taiwan Library,Taiwan, © National Taiwan Library,Taipei,Taiwan the conventional ideology held in China over centuries, only the Heaven be could round or spherical.34 It is legitimate, therefore, to point out the reason for the addition of the sun, moon, and stars to the globes that God holds in the images of the title page and in the last one, the “Coronation of the Virgin Mary,” in Aleni’s Chinese woodcuts Tianzhu jiangsheng chuxiang jingjie (Biblical Explanations and Illustrations of the Heavenly Lord’s Incarnation), a work which illustrates the life of Christ (Figs. 9, 10). It is not exactly correct to say that the sun, moon, and stars depicted on a globe in these images are new elements particularly in Chinese fashion, as their European models do not have these elements, because we find a similar depiction in an engraving of the Flemish printer Maarten de Vos 34 Chu Pingyi ,“Kua wenhua zhishi chuanbo de gean yanjiu—mingmo qingchu guanyu diyuan shuo de zhengyi, 1600-1800” , 1600-1800 (The Formation of Factual Knowledge in Trans-cultural Scientific Transactions:The Debate over the Sphericity of the Earth in China, 1600-1800), Zhongyang yanjiuyuan lishi yuyan yanjiusuo jikan (Bulletin of the Institute of History and Philology) 69 (1998), 589-670. 534 THE HUMAN BODY AS A UNIVERSE Fig. 9.Title page, woodcut, from Giulio Aleni’s Tianzhu jiangsheng chuxiang jingjie (Biblical Explanations and Illustrations of the Heavenly Lord’s Incarnation), 1637, Archivum Romanum Societatis Iesu, Italy, JapSin I-187, © Archivum Romanum Societatis Iesu, Rome, Italy (Fig. 11).35 For the Chinese of the Ming period, a globe could only indicate a celestial body; by no means could it be used as a visualization of the terrestrial entity. So the sun, moon, and stars on the globes in the hands of Christ in Aleni’s woodcuts reinforce their identification as celestial bodies. However, the idea of the three-dimensional projections in European cartographical modes could be realized only after it had been established that the Earth is a sphere. Aleni’s Beiyu ditu 35 Paul Rheinbay said that the globe on the title page of the Tianzhu jiangsheng chuxiang jingjie was “depicted according to Asian style,” meaning that they were only outlined in Asia. Paul Rheinbay,“Nadal’s Religious Iconography Reinterpreted by Aleni for China,” in “Scholar from the West:” Giulio Aleni S.J. (1582-1649) and the Dialogue Between Christianity and China, ed. Tiziana Lippiello and Roman Malek (Nettetal, Germany, 1997), p. 330. BY HUI-HUNG CHEN 535 Fig. 10. Coronation of the Virgin Mary, woodcut, from Giulio Aleni’s Tianzhu jiangsheng chuxiang jingjie (Biblical Explanations and Illustrations of the Heavenly Lord’s Incarnation),1637, Archivum Romanum Societatis Iesu, Italy, JapSin I-187, © Archivum Romanum Societatis Iesu, Rome, Italy (Northern Polar Hemisphere Map) and Nanyu ditu (Southern Polar Hemisphere Map), included in one of the editions of his Wanguo quantu, and the depictions of the same hemispheres occupying prominent positions in the upper and lower left corners of Ricci’s Kunyu wanguo quantu, made explicit the Earth’s sphericity for the purposes of scientific theory (Fig. 12). Sambiasi’s map contains at least four diagrams for illustrating the theory (Fig. 13).36 On the top of this cartographical panel, Sambiasi’s 36 The illustration shown here is also found in an earlier Jesuit work, Manuel Diaz, Jr., Tian wen lüe (On Astronomy; 1615) see Tianxue chuhan (The First Book Compilation of the “Heavenly Studies”), 6 vols. (Taipei, 1964),V, p. 2704. 536 THE HUMAN BODY AS A UNIVERSE Fig. 11. Maarten de Vos, Salvator Mundi, from a series of “Christ Blessing,” early seventeenth century, engraving, Bibliothèque Royale de Belgique, Belgium, SI38279, © Bibliothèque Royale de Belgique, Brussels, Belgium text deals directly with the sphericity of the Earth.The beginning sentence goes to the core of the relevant geography and cosmology: “ (In the beginning when the Creator created things, he necessarily determined the essential appearance of these things.The essential appearance of the Earth is a sphere.”)37 This statement also indicates the principal teaching at the center of Jesuit geography and its metaphysical foundation: the Creator, i.e., God. D’Elia pointed out that the European sources for Ricci’s world map would be Alessandro Piccolomini’s (1508-78) Sfera del Mondo and Christophus Clavio’s (1538-1612) work also on the 37 Although the map has Sambiasi’s signature to indicate that he wrote and annotated it, this text had appeared in another Jesuit work, Sabastino de Ursis, Biao du shuo (On Gnomon) (1614), in Tianxue chuhan,V, pp. 2543-2544. BY HUI-HUNG CHEN 537 Fig. 12. Beiyu ditu (Northern Polar Hemisphere Map) & Nanyu ditu (Southern Polar Hemisphere Map), from Giulio Aleni, Wanguo quantu (Universal Map of Countries), c. 1620, woodcut on paper, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vatican City, Barberini Oriente 151 (1b), © Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana,Vatican City Earth’s sphericity (Sphaeram Ioannis de Sacrobosco Commentarius).38 Ricci’s world map and other Jesuit geographical and cartographical works alike resorted to this tradition, and the sphericity of the Earth was the theoretical premise by which to calculate the solar and lunar eclipses, locate the celestial positions of the star, and realize the relationships between the earth and other celestial entities.These astronomical observations were important for mapping the earth; thus the calculation of the relative distances among various places and celestial objects was a three-dimensional geometrical issue rather than merely a two-dimensional problem as it had been conceived in local Chinese traditions.39 As Aleni’s Wanguo tu xiaoyin (Little Preface of the Wanguo tu) explains lucidly, “ (The Earth and Heaven are both the same, a sphere, and their degrees correspond with each other. So mapping the Earth has to resort to the Heavens).”40 Regarding the matter of the Earth’s sphericity, Jesuit cartography was a cultural product imported as a modern concept for Chinese people. Therefore, Jesuit world maps 38 D’Elia, Il Mappamondo, pp. 170-171. Foss, “A Western Interpretation of China,” p. 210; Chu, “Kua wenhua zhishi,” pp. 596-614. 40 Aleni’s Wanguo tu xiaoyin. 39 538 THE HUMAN BODY AS A UNIVERSE Fig. 13. Diagram, woodcut, from Manuel Diaz, Jr., Tian wen lüe (On Astronomy), 1615, National Central Library, Taiwan, 305.2 06257, © National Central Library, Taipei, Taiwan were not only “a visual image of geographical configuration.” Various astronomical diagrams—such as those of the nine layers of the Heavens at the upper right corner of Ricci’s Kunyu wanguo quantu (Fig. 14), of the astrolabe at the lower right corner of Ricci’s (Fig. 15), as well as of the solar and lunar eclipses on Ricci’s and Sambiasi’s world maps, and Aleni’s Beiyu ditu and Nanyu ditu—all served as illustrations of the physical studies of the Heavens, which played a crucial role in mapping the earth. In the meanwhile, they paved the way toward the comprehension of the Creator’s significance. The third difference between the two cartographical traditions revealed in the Chinese perception of European cartography concerns “time.” Jesuit world maps indicate a new concept, not only of the Earth and of global “space,” but also of “time.” Different places on the individual lines of longitude and latitude lines observe different times—a notion also foreign to the indigenous Chinese.Thus reading the maps in the European mode entailed a new conception of time. In his preface to the Kunyu wanguo quantu, Ricci observes: BY HUI-HUNG CHEN 539 Fig. 14. Jiu chong tien tu (Diagram of the Nine Layers of the Heavens), from Matteo Ricci, Kunyu wanguo quantu (Universal Map of the World and Countries), 1602, woodcut on paper, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vatican City, Barberini Oriente 150 (1), © Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana,Vatican City Use the longitude line to determine the distance between two places, which is called “time.” It is a day as the sun turns one circle. So each unit of time runs thirty degrees. If the distance between two places is thirty degrees, their time has the difference of one unit.41 41 This preface is the text under the title of the map at the right side of the work. For the texts on Ricci’s maps, refer also to Wang Mianhou ,“Lun li madou kunyu wangguo quantu han liangyi xuanlan tu shang de xuba tishi” (On the Prefaces and Texts on the Kunyu wanguo quantu and Liangyi xuanlan tu of Matteo Ricci), in Zhongguo gudai ditu ji—ming dai (A Compilation of Chinese Ancient Maps—Ming Dynasty), ed. Cao Wanru et al. (Beijing, 1994), pp. 107-111. 540 THE HUMAN BODY AS A UNIVERSE Fig.15. Tien di yi (Diagram of the Astrolabe),from Matteo Ricci, Kunyu wanguo quantu (Universal Map of the World and Countries), 1602, woodcut on paper, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vatican City, Barberini Oriente 150 (1), © Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana,Vatican City One such practical example is found in Aleni’s Kou duo ri cha (Daily Account of the Vocal Assertion). By means of a map of Rome shown to Fujian’s followers in 1630,Aleni explained the difference in time between China and Rome based on the various degrees related to the position of the sun striking the earth, thereby illustrating the spherical configuration of the earth. He further confirmed a false presumption held by Chinese astrologers, as is clear from the quote below: I [the Fujianese adherent Li Jiubiao ] said, “The [Chinese] astrologer who chooses dates and tells fortunes thinks that the world observes the same time.However,in this case (as explained by the Roman map regarding the different time zones) there are differences in time even within the [Chinese] BY HUI-HUNG CHEN 541 empire. If so, by what means can Chinese astrologers determine auspicious and ill omens? Aleni answered, “This is why they [Chinese astrologers] are untruthful, yet also why commoners are still confused by them.42 This is a concrete example of the use of scientific visual material, a European map, to refute Chinese astrology, which was considered a discipline of science as well as of religion in Chinese traditions.Aleni’s attack shows the ridiculousness of this traditional discourse as it pertained in the areas both of science and religion. This idea of a link between time and astrology could also have legitimized the Jesuits’ introduction of European clocks.43 The Human Body as a Universe: Understanding Heaven by Visualization and Sensibility In the above discussion of the differences between Chinese and European cartography, as the Chinese perceived the European world maps that Jesuit missionaries brought to China, we can see how the religious message was embedded in the Jesuit explanations of the maps. In what follows, I propose to look at the matter further from the Jesuit side, arguing that for the Jesuits, the religious implications in their cartography could be concerned with a broader European context, by which their intentions for employing such visual objects may be elucidated. I suggest that the visualization, as well as sensibility, can be two primary conceptions of the religious meaning of the missionary versions of world maps. In 1589, Richard Hakluyt made the following sharp-witted remark: “From the Mappe he brought me to the Bible.”44 This truth was also valid for Chinese Jesuit cartography as it was first presented to the Chinese. 42 Giulio Aleni, Kou duo ri cha (Daily Account of the Vocal Assertion), in Nicolas Standaert and Adrian Dudink, eds., : Chinese Christian Texts from the Roman Archives of the Society of Jesus, 12 vols. (Taipei, 2002), VII, pp. 42-43. 43 Regarding the tools the Jesuits brought to China for time and spatial measurement, see Catherine Jami, “Western Devices for Measuring Time and Space: Clocks and Euclidian Geometry in Late Ming and Ch’ing China,” in Time and Space in Chinese Culture, ed. Chun-Chieh Huang and Erik Zürcher (Leiden, 1995), pp. 169-200. 44 Cited by Frank Lestringant, Mapping the Renaissance World: The Geographical Imagination in the Age of Discovery, trans. David Fausett (Berkeley, 1994) , p. 6.The “he” in the quotation is his cousin who, in Lestringant’s terms,“guided his reading from the planisphere to the Psalms.” The original source of the remark is Richard Hakluyt, The Principall Navigations, Voiages, and Discoveries of the English Nation, Made by Sea or Over Land. . . . (London, 1589), fol. 2r. 542 THE HUMAN BODY AS A UNIVERSE In the two European sources that D’Elia pointed out for Ricci’s world map, Alessandro Piccolomini’s Sfera del Mondo and Christophus Clavio’s Sphaeram Ioannis de Sacrobosco Commentarius, the geographical and cosmological contents indicate that European geography since the Renaissance period had to be understood by way of its cosmological associations, which were based on Christian theology.45 Aleni’s Wanguo tu xiaoyin, part of which was quoted at the beginning of this article, indicates that the missions, both implicitly as well as explicitly, conveyed the Christian message that was implied in a map’s configuration. The key points in Aleni’s statement are the human body as a universe and the comparative smallness of the human body in relationship to the greatness of Heaven. Ricci’s text of 1602 on the Kunyu wanguo quantu expresses the magnitude of Heaven in a similar tone: I have heard that the universe is a great book, and only the intelligent scholar can read it and then achieve the ultimate doctrine. By comprehending the Heaven and Earth, one would be able to testify to the ultimate kindness, greatness, and oneness of the supreme power of the lord who rules over the Heaven and Earth. Those who do not study or pursue this way neglect Heaven. Not to ascribe this study to the sovereign of Heaven is not to study in the serious sense. Abandoning absolutely any malicious ideas in order to achieve the ultimate kindness is meritorios. To put aside the little [study or faith] and turn to pursue the great one, minimizing the multitude [regarding beliefs] in order to pledge allegiance to the utmost one, is not far from the study, is it? Both Ricci’s and Aleni’s statements ascribe the metaphysical realm of human intelligence and the body to the Creator, emphasizing the greatness and uniqueness of God. Ricci in particular denounced the multitude of beliefs and of deities in Chinese traditions, in contrast to God’s existence as the only supreme power of the universe. Aleni points out the relationship between the human body and the universe in physical as well as in spiritual terms: that our human soul and talent are granted by God’s omnipotence. People can understand the universe and should do so within the framework of this relationship, so 45 Lestringant, Mapping the Renaissance World , pp. 1-11. BY HUI-HUNG CHEN 543 as to pay esteem to the Creator. The last sentence in Aleni’s statement is clever, implying that the map in front of our eyes serves as visual proof, given that the human eye “can see” it, through the faculty bestowed by the Creator.Therefore, it shows that the visual evidence provided by a map was a visualization of an understanding of God, and that it was used to point to this ultimate truth by means of the image itself and the ability of the viewer which depends on the ultimate one, both of which are inevitably interlinked.The importance of establishing the proof of God or the truth in the universe lies in the fact that the missionary had to preach the truth of Christianity to nonChristians, because the Chinese were not able to recognize Jesus Christ in their history and culture and questioned the veracity of him and his religion. Therefore, it is not strange that Aleni’s Zhifang waiji was categorized under the section of li (literally, li means theory or principle; in the religious context of Christianity, it denotes “Christian doctrine”) instead of qi (those works on the physical studies of Heaven), in the Tianxue chuhan , the first book compilation of the Heavenly studies in China. It was compiled and published by Li Zhizao around 1629, who was responsible for Ricci’s Kunyu wanguo quantu. Like cartography for the Jesuits, the Zhifang waiji is not simply an introduction to geographical knowledge. However, Jesuit cartography and geography need physical studies to achieve their ends. Jesuit methods of teaching the Chinese to comprehend the Heaven and Earth proceeded from the physical to the spiritual realms, and the former, the physical studies, were an essential part of the process toward the understanding of the metaphysical field of the universe.The most important basis for physical studies was mathematics. Hence the section of qi of the Tianxue chuhan includes works and treatises on numerical theories and geometry. The mathematical disciplines and studies, as seen in the case of Venetian mapping in the sixteenth century, were understood as “being in the first degree of certainty.” Based on the PythagoreanPlatonic view of the mathematical and geometrical structures of the universe, the Jesuits believed that,“mathematical reason allows us to understand the harmonia mundi in the created universe and further, to grasp metaphysical concepts like the Trinity: ‘through the wonderful correspondence between God and the world, created on the model of divine harmony, a number becomes the means and criterion to elevate oneself from the sensible world to the invisible and 544 THE HUMAN BODY AS A UNIVERSE ineffable truth of God.’”46 This “certainty” was a concept crucial to direct one to the “proof of the truth.” The Renaissance tradition of cosmology and cartography and the idea of understanding nature through mathematical science are the essential framework through which the Jesuits legitimized the sciences in the China mission. Mathematics played an important part in cartography; through it the Jesuits interpreted the role of the sciences in Jesuit visual culture. It was also the fundamental physical study guiding one toward the spiritual realm, and it played a key role in regularizing knowledge to the level of certainty and truth. In addition, it is particularly interesting to note that Aristotelian sensibility was employed in cooperation with the understanding of mathematics and mathematical practices for gaining knowledge of Heaven in the Jesuit China mission. Williem Hackmann articulated the relationship between Sense and Reason in seventeenth-century European scholarship as follows: “Reason made it possible to comprehend the new phenomena produced by science, while observations on their own could never lead to understanding.” He pointed out further that the title page of the Jesuit work Ars magna lucis et umbrae (1646), a treatise on optics composed by Kircher, uses the telescope as an emblem for Sense as the only source of knowledge. Hackmann commented:“The Jesuits were keen to introduce science into the Vatican and they were among the most ardent diffusers of the new knowledge based on these novel instruments, but as their frontispieces indicate, they were very much concerned with the relationship between Reason and Sense.”47 These remarks are appropriately applied to Jesuit sciences in their Chinese missionary work, because as in the case of cartography, the Jesuits introduced the Chinese to the comprehension of western knowledge and of Heaven by means of the cooperation of mathematics (Reason) and sensibility (Sense). In the Jesuit framework, the visualization is carried out by the ability of the human sense, the theory based upon the concept of per46 Both quotations concerning Venetian mapping case studies are from Denis Cosgrove,“Mapping New Worlds: Culture and Cartography in Sixteenth-Century Venice,” Imago Mundi 49 (1992), 75. Here the author is talking about and citing Fra Luca Pacioli’s reference to the central positions of number, geometry, and proportion in measuring all things of the universe. 47 Willem D. Hackmann, “Natural Philosophical Textbook Illustrations 1600-1800,” in Non-Verbal Communication in Science Prior to 1900, ed. Renato G. Mazzolini (Florence, 1993), pp. 173-174. BY HUI-HUNG CHEN 545 ception or sensibility of Aristotle. This theory can be grasped by the Aleni’s statement: the human body as a universe. First, as Aleni’s preface indicates, the human body, likened to a universe, is based upon that human faculty bestowed by the master of the universe, i.e., God. Also because of this understanding of the body as a microcosm of the universe, we can “comprehend the whole Heaven and Earth.” For the Jesuits, the whole meaning of the human body includes both its corporality and the soul. A man is different from other beings due to God’s bestowal of anima, the rational soul. As the Jesuit founder Ignatius de Loyola explains, anima, a denomination of “the rational soul,”suggests the co-operation of “body and soul,”and is “a compound of body and soul” and “the whole self,” even though the word “soul” alone is generally used as a translation of anima.48 In this sense, anima means the essence of a human being.This concept of an able and rational soul is completely unfamiliar to the traditional Chinese concepts of hun and po .49 These two Chinese terms, commonly used as equivalents for the word “soul” in modern English usage, do not indicate either a positive and realistic being, nor was the faculty of reason and intelligence associated with these terms. While hun and po have a metaphysical sense, they are meaningless when detached from the physical body; the body and soul in Chinese thought are not opposed in any dualistic way.50 In addition, the Aristotelian distinction of three souls for temporal beings, and the significance of the rational soul of man, as the third and highest among the three, are explicitly explained in various works of Jesuit literature for the Chinese. In Ricci’s Tianzhu shiyi (The True Meaning of the Lord of Heaven, 1603), among the earliest of these works, this anima of human beings was translated as ling hun , and Ricci said that ling hun is shen (literally “spirit”).51 In the Tianzhu shengjiao qimeng (Catechism for Catholicism, early seventeenth century) and Song nian zhu gui cheng (Method for Reciting the Rosary, first edition circa 1619), bound together in a single volume, 48 George E. Ganss, The Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius—A Translation and Commentary (St. Louis, 1992), p. 150. 49 Jacques Gernet, China and the Christian Impact: A Conflict of Cultures (Cambridge, 1985), pp. 146-150; Erik Zürcher,“Confucian and Christian Religiosity in Late Ming China,” The Catholic Historical Review 83 (October, 1997), 625-630. 50 For this concept in the elaboration of Daoism, see Joseph Needham, Science and Civilization in China, vol. 2, History of Scientific Thought (Cambridge, 1956), pp. 153154. 51 Matteo Ricci, Tianzhu shiyi (The True Meaning of the Lord of Heaven), in Tianxue chuhan, I, pp. 429-449. 546 THE HUMAN BODY AS A UNIVERSE and in Sambiasi’s Ling yan li shao (Treatise on Anima; 1624), the term is transliterated as yanima .52 It was read as ling shen in the Pangzi yi quan (The Posthumous Work of Pantoja) of Diego de Pantoja (ca. 1610), shen in the Jiaoyao jie lüe (Brief Explanations of the Catholic Essentials, 1615) of Alfonso Vagnoni (1568-1640), and ling xing (spiritual nature) and ling ming (spiritual intelligence) later in Aleni’s works.53 Ling and shen are interchangeable. In order to elucidate the genuine sense of anima, in their Chinese works, the Jesuits explained that a rational soul has the faculty of reason and intelligence due to shen or ling xing, for instance. In other words, the Jesuits used terminology such as shen or ling xing, in order to indicate the primary feature of the rational soul.To borrow a term from Erik Zürcher, as in the late Ming period when Neo-Confucianism was popular, the idea of “soul” was marginal but human nature (xing ) and mind (xin ) were considered in a positive light.54 The Jesuit appropriation of shen or ling xing were much more associated with the xing and xin of Neo-Confucianism. The Jesuits could have thought that the Chinese terms shen and ling were appropriate to point out the conception of the body and soul in their highlighting of the rational soul. The same concept of “the human body as a universe” was also seen in Chinese metaphysics. However, it represented a different cosmology. In the writings of the Chinese philosopher Zhuangzi (365290 B.C.), we see that man is similar to the universe in nature and structure. Their relationship, which was furthered in the Han period 52 João da Rocha, Tianzhu shengjiao qimeng (Catechism for Catholicism) and Song nian zhu gui cheng (Method for Reciting the Rosary) (ARSI, JapSin I, 43), fol. 1r. A modern facsimile of this work has been published, see Standaert and Dudink, Chinese Christian Texts, I, pp. 503-515, 515-574; the above folio 1r is on page 515; Francesco Sambiasi, Ling yan li shao (Treatise on Anima), in Tianxue chuhan, II, pp. 1127-1268. 53 Diego de Pantoja, Pangzi yi quan (The Posthumous Work of Pantoja), in Standaert and Dudink, Chinese Christian Texts, II, p. 109;Alfonso Vagnoni, Jiaoyao jie lüe (Brief Explanations of the Catholic Essentials), in Standaert and Dudink, Chinese Christian Texts, I, pp. 301-306; Giulio Aleni, Xingxue cushu (On Human Nature, Aleni’s preface dated in 1623), in Standaert and Dudink, Chinese Christian Texts,VI, pp. 104-108; Giulio Aleni, Sanshan lunxue ji (Account of Discussing Catholic Doctrine at Sanshan (Fuzhou)), in Tianzhujiao dongchuan wenxian xubian (Literature of Catholicism in the East, Second Series), 3 vols. (Taipei, 1966), I, pp. 469-477; Giulio Aleni, Dizui zhenggui (Formal Rule and Statement of the Penitential Sacrament), in Standaert and Dudink, Chinese Christian Texts, IV, p. 360. 54 Zürcher,“Confucian and Christian Religiosity,” p. 626. BY HUI-HUNG CHEN 547 (206 B.C.-220 A.D.), is revealed in the correlative thought that was entrenched in Chinese astrological and cosmological discourses, whose influence determined the emperor’s deeds no less than folk religions and morality.55 In Zhuangzi’s elaboration, each being in the universe has equal status, because they are all created or resulted from qi (air). In other words, the Aristotelian distinction of three souls for temporal beings, with the rational soul as the third and highest, is in opposition to this cosmology. The meaning of human existence in Chinese cosmology is not to be established through the omnipotence of the real master of the universe—at least not from a Jesuit perspective—but in the indiscriminate universe.56 Basically, this conception of the universe formed the foundation of Chinese thought throughout subsequent centuries, as revealed in the Neo-Confucian analysis of the linked relationship between human beings and nature, and of that between nature and the universe.“The human body as a universe” was not brought about through the ultimate and only Creator, but it was understood through the concept of Tianren heyi “ ” (“Heavens and humans directed towards the same one, or being homogeneous”), or as the same derivation of heavens and humans from qi in the qiimmersed and non-discriminated world.57 Second, due to this shen or ling xing, in the Jesuit religious context, the human body has five senses.The sense of the eye occupies the first rank in the theory of the five senses, and the human faculty or intellect depends above all on the proper functioning of vision. Ignatius’ 55 As for the correlative thought in China, refer to Du Zhengsheng , “Xingti, jingqi yu hunpo—zhongguo chuantong dui ren renshi de xingcheng” (Body, Spirit and Soul—The Formation of the Knowledge of Humans in Chinese Traditions), Xin shixue (New History) 2 (3): 56-61 (September 1991); John B. Henderson, The Development and Decline of Chinese Cosmology (New York, 1984). 56 About Zhuangzi’s writings and philosophy, see Young-bae Song ,“Dongfang de xiangguan xing siwei moshi han dui youjiti shengming de lijie—yi Zhuangzi han zhongyi de youjiti shengming yuanli wei zhongxin” (The Eastern Thinking Method of Relativity and the Comprehension of the Organic Being—the Principles of the Organic Being in Zhuangzi and Chinese Medicine), (paper presented at the International Meeting of the Formation of the Cosmic Order in Early Modern East Asia, Center for the Study of East Asian Civilizations, National Taiwan University,Taipei,Taiwan,August 20-21, 2004). 57 For this concept of the universe in Neo-Confucianism, see Wu Zhan-liang , “Yangming de qihua shijieguan yu qi hexin sixiang xilun” (The Qi Worldview of [Wang] Yangming),(paper presented at the International Conference on the Development of the Worldviews in Early Modern East Asia, Center for the Study of East Asian Civilizations, National Taiwan University,Taipei,Taiwan,August 5-6, 2005). 548 THE HUMAN BODY AS A UNIVERSE Spiritual Exercises takes up “the Five Senses of the Body” as one of its subjects in the First Method of Prayer, the “light exercise,” that can be given to “simple and illiterate persons who are unqualified for the full Exercises.”58 Along with other subjects in the First Method—the Ten Commandments, the Capital Sins, and the Three Powers of the Soul— the Five Senses of the Body were translated and explained by the Jesuits in the earliest Chinese catechetical treatises, such as Vagnoni’s Jiaoyao jie lüe and Shengjing yue lu (Abridgement from the Bible, ca. after 1615).The Chinese terms were employed as below: The human body has five senses. First are the eyes for the vision or sight; second, the ears for hearing; third, the mouth for tasting; fourth, the nose for smelling; fifth, four limbs for feeling.59 At least until the middle of the seventeenth century, Aristotle’s understanding of the human soul’s sensibility, that is, the soul’s capacity to perceive things by the senses leading to a comprehension of the universe, was central to Catholic epistemology and natural philosophy.60 The prominent historian of Chinese sciences, Joseph Needham, noted that,“the world-picture which the Jesuits brought was that of the closed Ptolemaic-Aristotelian geocentric universe of solid concentric crystalline sphere.”61 In introducing this Ptolemaic-Aristotelian world picture to the China mission, the Jesuits were more concerned with its religious implication as it suited their missionary uses. Moreover, the Jesuits could use it in both symbolic and realistic senses. Their cartography based on the Ptolemaic world retained as much symbolic as scientific meaning for seventeenth-century Europe, considering the realistic pic58 Ganss, The Spiritual Exercises, pp. 96-98, 186. The quotation comes from the Jiaoyao jie lüe. The Jiaoyao jie lüe and the Shengjing yue lu were reprinted in full in the first volume of Standaert’s and Dudink’s Chinese Christian Texts. The texts discussing the five senses of the body are separately seen in the following pages, 110, 301-303 (the quotation on p. 301). Albert Chan attributed the Shengjing yue lu to Ricci, composed after 1605, see Albert Chan, Chinese Books and Documents in the Jesuit Archives in Rome—A Descriptive Catalogue (Armonk, New York, 2002), p. 106. 60 For the Aristotelian theory of the human sense in theology, a recent discussion on this issue pertained to the Jesuit Ignatius de Loyola, is Jeffrey Chipps Smith, Sensuous Worship: Jesuits and the Art of the Early Catholic Reformation in Germany (Princeton, 2002), pp. 35-40. 61 Joseph Needham, Chinese Astronomy and the Jesuit Mission: An Encounter of Cultures (London, 1958), p. 1. The contents of this booklet are also part of Needham’s Science and Civilization in China, vol. 3 (Cambridge, 1959). 59 BY HUI-HUNG CHEN 549 ture of the world already brought back by several explorers from actual navigations and from geographical expansions. However, for the Chinese as well as for the missionaries, the symbolic image of the Ptolemaic world did, to a certain extent, present a more realistic picture than the local mapping conventions in China, as explained above. The sense of sight is usually described as a bodily function in those earliest Chinese catechistic treatises, but the ability of the eyes, shown in the sense of sight and vision, is not conceived by the Jesuits only within the realm of the physical body. Vagnoni explained the interdependence of the human body and shen as follows: Shen is a non-material thing. It cannot be independently realized without the image of the material, but has to rely on various images of external things [from the five senses] to receive and transmit them inward. For the external five senses, the transmitted images can be neither enlightened without the internal faculty [i.e., shen], nor be animated clearly and aptly to react to the principle of all of things.62 Therefore, the five senses have to be completed through the capacity of shen, and shen has to be conceived by means of the five senses, as it receives the images of various external objects for a more complete perception.This Chinese description conforms to the whole meaning of the human body, that is, Ignatius’ co-operation of the body and the soul. Ling xing or shen has one component regarding vision: mnemonics, which links ling xing or shen to the capacity of sensory perception, pertained to the issue of visualization and imagination in its European context.The faculty of shen, following Vagnoni’s text, has three categories: ji han (memory), ming wu (enlightenment and comprehension), and ai yu (will).63 These three faculties of shen, repeated in various Jesuit works in Chinese, derive from the three mental powers of Ignatius’ Spiritual Exercises—memory, intellect, and will: 62 Vagnoni, Jiaoyao jie lüe, p. 304. Ibid., pp. 301-302. Ricci’s Tianzhu shiyi (1603), Shengjing yue lu (ca. after 1605) and Pantoja’s Renlei yuanshi (Origin of Human Beings, ca. 1610) are those earliest records of the three faculties of shen in Jesuit Chinese literature, see individually, Ricci, Tianzhu shiyi, pp. 574-577; Shengjing yue lu, pp. 110-111; and for Pantoja’s, the edition in BAV, Borgia Cinese 350 (1), fol. 5v. 63 550 THE HUMAN BODY AS A UNIVERSE Spiritual Exercises 50: The First Point [for the First Exercise] will be to use my memory, by going over the first sin, that of the angels; next to use my understanding, by reasoning about it; and then my will. My aim in remembering and reasoning about all these matters is to bring myself to greater shame and confusion. . . . I will call to memory the sin of the angels. . . . Next I will use my intellect to ruminate about this in greater detail, and then move myself to deeper emotions by means of my will.64 These three faculties have to work together for the functioning of shen. Sambiasi’s Ling yan li shao and Aleni’s Xingxue cushu (On Human Nature,Aleni’s preface dated in 1623) offer two elaborations of these three faculties in greater detail, compared with other Jesuit Chinese works.65 “Memory” occupies the first rank among the three faculties of shen, because its quality would affect the operations of the other two capacities, intellect and will. Aleni’s explanation in 1634 states clearly and concisely the co-relationships between these three functions: The first is to clean up memory. Memory is not clear; that is, miscellaneous thoughts come into brain.In this case,it will cause confusion and disturbance in meditation.So it [the memory] must resort to sacred books,adopting those good and exquisite ones and taking them into the memory, so they can be used at all times in order to inspire intelligence. Second, the fulfillment of intellect. The intellect has been enlightened, then can draw inferences in order to understand thoroughly any hidden meanings. Having pondered the action and significance [of the things or issues in question], we take it to be a standard. At this point the affection can be motivated. Third, the initiation of the affection. Once the comprehension of the principles is achieved, then the affection can be aroused. It can generate either the will of repentance or the thought of improvement. Be determined and supplicate God’s grant of spiritual power, in order for firm action. This is a summary of meditation.66 Memory is important for its just confirmation of the contents, from which derives the smooth advance of intellect and will. In the 64 Ganss, The Spiritual Exercises, p. 41. Sambiasi, Ling yan li shao, pp. 1154-1211;Aleni, Xingxue cushu, pp. 283-302. 66 Aleni, Kou duo ri chao, pp. 397-398. 65 BY HUI-HUNG CHEN 551 European tradition of mnemotechnics dating from the classical period onward, imagination and visualization were the two primary methods for causing and arranging a trained memory. Thinking about the Aristotelian theory of knowledge, that he expounded in his De anima, formed an extremely prominent position in Jesuit thinking on the issues; as Frances Yates states,“The perceptions brought in by the five senses are first treated or worked upon by the faculty of imagination.”67 Imagination relies on the brain to generate various mental images; this point is confirmed by the above quotation of Aleni’s explanation. However, the Jesuits distinguished the memory of the brain and that of the heart, emphasizing the heart as the ultimate source of a rational soul because the management of memory, such as building a visionary palace, lies therein.68 The practical example of this building method in the management of memory in China is Ricci’s Xiguo jifa (Western Mnemonics; 1596), a prominent booklet of western mnemonics. Ricci introduces the western theory of mnemonics, and discusses the method of constructing an imaginative house with Chinese ideographs.69 By speaking of Chinese ideographs as signs, he simultaneously made use of the imaginative and memory-oriented characteristics of the Chinese language in order to articulate the visual function of western mnemonics for the comprehension of the Chinese people. He thus discussed the idea of xiang (image) with many figurative samples of Chinese characters.70 In other words, Ricci appropriates the hieroglyphic character of the Chinese language to express his concept of xiang and xiang’s significant uses, and he tries to establish a common perceptive method between the image-oriented characteristics of the Chinese language and the visualization of western mnemonics. This link between imagery and linguistics formulated by 67 Frances A.Yates, The Art of Memory (Chicago, 1966), p. 32. Aleni, Xingxue cushu, pp. 283-302. In Aleni’s term, memory housed in the brain is called she ji .The term ji han is used for memory of the heart. This theory conforms to the relevant historical discourse in fifteenth-century Europe that is stated by Paul Saenger as follows:“In the fifteenth century, cognitive function was thought to be divided between the brain, which according to Galen was the locus of sense and memory, and the heart, which according to the Bible,Aristotle, and numerous Latin patristic authorities was the intangible seat of the rational soul,” see Paul Saenger,“Books of Hours and the Reading Habits of the Later Middle Ages,” in The Culture of Print—Power and the Uses of Print in Early Modern Europe, ed. Roger Chartier, trans. Lydia G. Cochrane (Princeton, 1987), p. 145. 69 This booklet forms the skeleton of Jonathan Spence’s well-known book, The Memory Palace of Matteo Ricci (New York, 1985). 70 Matteo Ricci, Xiguo Jifa (Western Mnemonics), in Tianzhujiao dongchuan wenxian (Literature of Catholicism in the East), 3rd ed. (Taipei, 1997), pp. 1-70. 68 552 THE HUMAN BODY AS A UNIVERSE the Jesuits entails an important observation of difference between the two cultures. As words and images could be seen as rivals in the European aesthetic traditions, both scripts and images for the Chinese could have been “undifferentiated art forms,” both functioning as “graphic signs that expressed meaning.”71 To restate simply the matter elaborated above: seeing is crucial for understanding.The sense of the eye occupies the first rank among the five senses, and the human faculty or the rational soul depends above all on the proper functioning of vision. With regard to the capacity of the human rational soul,mnemonics assigns significance to the sensed image, and thus images play a legitimate role in the fulfillment of the sensibility. The reason for the Jesuits’ uses of images and visual objects in the China mission lies in this Aristotelian philosophical and Jesuit theological background. Jesuit cartography was an embodiment of the Renaissance tradition of cartography as the graphical representation of the universe,which included the idea of understanding nature through mathematical science as well as of understanding Heaven by uses of the senses, especially visualization. In this Renaissance tradition, geography was associated with cosmology that was based upon Christian theology, and Aristotle’s use of the senses for the comprehension of the universe formed the core of Catholic epistemology and natural philosophy. Cartography, as a mode of the visualization of knowledge,was a practical example to use to proceed from the human ability of sight to the truth of Christianity. The religious implications of Jesuit cartography explain how the Jesuits could have employed cartography strategically in their attempts to evangelize in China.The religious underpinning supported the use of this scientific object in the Jesuit China mission. While the Jesuits made efforts to translate a European-based map into a Chinese printed version, they also introduced new geographical knowledge of China back to Europe, to use Steven Harris’ term, incorporating the knowledge of China into the geography of Jesuit knowledge. Cartography thus played quite a significant role in the dynamics of this intercultural relation. For both Europe and China, it indicates a historical process in the Early Modern period, in which each side tried to accommodate world geography and the knowledge of other countries and peoples into the individual ideological system. 71 As for the difference in the relationship between words and images in China and Europe, see Wen C. Fong,“Why Chinese Painting Is History,” The Art Bulletin 85 (June, 2003), 259 (for both quotations); David Carrier,“Meditations on a Scroll, or the Roots of Chinese Artistic Form,” Word and Image 18 (January-March, 2002), 50. ST. BENEDICT CENTER AND NO SALVATION OUTSIDE THE CHURCH, 1940-1953 BY PATRICK CAREY* This essay argues that historians of American Catholicism have paid little attention to the issue of the relationship between the Church and salvation. The issue has been important in American Catholic thought since the time of John Carroll, but came to the fore most publicly in the late 1940’s and early 1950’s at the Cambridge, Massachusetts, St. Benedict Center where Father Leonard Feeney and his young associates taught that no salvation existed outside of the Catholic Church. And yet, few general histories of American Catholicism have examined the episode, which is important for what it reveals about the Catholic understanding of the substantive issue of salvation. Shortly after his conversion to Catholicism in 1940, while he was still a law student at Harvard University, Avery Dulles (1918- ) became one of the founders and charter members of Boston’s St. Benedict Center. That gathering house of Boston’s Catholic students became the hub of much theological and doctrinal controversy in the late 1940’s and early 1950’s because of their interpretation of the doctrinal dictum “no salvation outside the Church” (extra ecclesiam nulla salus).1 *Dr. Carey is the William J. Kelly, S.J., Professor of Catholic Theology at Marquette University. 1 On the St. Benedict Center and the controversy, see James M. O’Toole’s interview with Avery Dulles, June 22, 1982. A printed account of the interview is located in the Archives of the Archdiocese of Boston, and in the Avery Dulles, S.J., Papers at Fordham University. See also Catherine Goddard Clarke, The Loyolas and the Cabots:The Story of the Boston Heresy Case (Boston, 1950); idem, The Gate of Heaven (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1952); John Deedy,“Whatever Happened to Father Feeney?” The Critic 31 (May-June 1973), 12-24; Thomas Mary Sennot, They Fought the Good Fight: Orestes Brownson and Father Feeney (Monrovia, California, 1987); Mark Silk, “The Wages of Conversion (II),” in Spiritual Politics: Religion and America Since World War II (New York, 1988), pp. 70-86; George B. Pepper, The Boston Heresy Case in View of the Secularization of Religion: A Case Study in the Sociology of Religion (Lewiston, New York, 1988); and Mark S. Massa, “Boundary Maintenance: Leonard Feeney, the Boston Heresy Case, and the Postwar Culture,” in Catholics and American Culture: Fulton Sheen, Dorothy Day, and the Notre Dame Football Team (New York, 1999), pp. 21-37. For obituaries on Feeney, see Avery Dulles,“Leonard Feeney: In Memoriam,” America 138 553 554 ST. BENEDICT CENTER AND NO SALVATION OUTSIDE THE CHURCH, 1940-1953 Although he left Boston (to join the Navy during World War II) before Father Leonard Feeney, S.J., the primary promoter of the dictum, came to the Center, Dulles, like many other young religious intellectuals of the 1940’s, was drawn to an uncompromising Catholic Church that clearly emphasized the Church’s distinctive and necessary role as the medium of salvation. Leonard Feeney and his cohorts at the Center, too, reflected in an unusually dramatic and energetic way, something that was more generally characteristic of the Catholic Church of the 1940’s and early 1950’s.After World War II, Feeney and his young associates developed an extreme interpretation of the theological dictum that eventually got them interdicted and then excommunicated.What does this case tell us about American Catholicism in the period? This essay describes briefly the origins of the St. Benedict Center, the gradual evolution of a radical literal interpretation of the theological dictum, the reactions to that interpretation, and suggests areas that need further historical analysis. After his reception into the Church in November of 1940, Dulles became increasingly more active in promoting religious and intellectual life among his fellow Catholic students in the Boston area. As a student at Harvard Law School, he had joined the St. Andrews Club, a group of Catholic students who met at Mrs. Frances Gray’s in Boston. By the late fall of 1940 the group had increased to such an extent that it had outgrown her living room. The students needed more space and a more permanent structure for their discussions and lectures on religious, philosophical, and literary topics. In response to this need Dulles, Catherine Clarke, Margaret Knapp, and Christopher Huntington found an empty furniture building across from St. Paul’s Catholic Church in Cambridge that they could rent at a reasonable price. They negotiated a low rent and moved the student group into the new building in the spring of 1941, calling the place the St. Benedict Center. (February 2, 1978), 135-37, and “Leonard Feeney, Jesuit Priest, 80; Ousted in Dispute Over Salvation,” New York Times (February 1, 1978), B2. On Feeney, see also “Feeney, Leonard,” American National Biography, ed. John A. Garraty and Mark C. Carnes, 24 vols. (New York, 1999), VII, pp. 787-789. No truly comprehensive study of the St. Benedict Center and the heresy case exists, but Katherine Richman, a graduate student at Boston College, is preparing a dissertation on the subject. Although published after this article was completed, I would like to mention also a new book on the St. Benedict Center by Gabriel Gibbs, Harvard to Harvard: The Story of Saint Benedict Center’s Becoming Saint Benedict Abbey (Still River, Massachusetts, 2006). BY PATRICK CAREY 555 During the early 1940’s, the Center offered enough space not only for regular lectures and large discussion groups, but also for a lending library. During the summer of 1941 Dulles spent much time and contributed some of his financial resources to furnishing the new center. Although the Center periodically supplied student volunteers to assist Catherine de Hueck’s friendship house in Harlem and Dorothy Day’s Catholic worker movement, it was primarily, according to Dulles, a cultural and intellectual rather than a social action club.At the beginning the Center had no overarching philosophy; it was simply a place where lay students and faculty could meet and discuss their faith. Even though the group received periodic visits from clergy, it had no permanent priest or theologian. It was primarily a lay group and movement. Nor was the Center related to the recently established Harvard Catholic Club, a student club that was reluctantly2 but officially acknowledged by the Boston Archdiocese. During Dulles’ time in Boston, furthermore, the Center had no “integral Catholic culture” that was suspicious of all values outside its own circle. It was, in fact, open to the secular education at Harvard and other places. Dulles, in particular, found no signs at Harvard of any fierce anti-Catholicism:“Certainly the people I studied under, while most of them were not Catholics, were highly respectful of the Catholic tradition.”3 Prior to, during, and after World War II, St. Benedict’s was the source of a vibrant spiritual and intellectual life for numbers of Catholic students and faculty in the Boston area. The Center also generated and fostered more than a hundred vocations to the priesthood and to religious life. Numerous young men and women who met at the Center were married there and continued discussing the implications of living their marriages as Christian vocations. Many of the college-age students, too, diligently studied the Catholic intellectual tradition, and while doing so established friendships that lasted a life time. Like many other gifted young men and women of the time, Dulles was seeking through St. Benedict’s a life more spiritually and intellectually satisfying than was available through American educational institutions. To some extent St. Benedict’s was a cell of Christian intellectual and spiritual perfection. 2 The archdiocese was reluctant to give any support to secular universities, even though Catholic students were attending those institutions in increasing numbers in the mid twentieth century. Catholic universities and colleges were the ideal places for Catholic students, in the minds of most Catholic bishops during the period. The Harvard Catholic Club was a low-key operation. 3 Dulles’ views on St. Benedict Center and Harvard are available in James M. O’Toole’s interview with Avery Dulles, June 22, 1982, p. 5. 556 ST. BENEDICT CENTER AND NO SALVATION OUTSIDE THE CHURCH, 1940-1953 Photograph of Father Leonard Feeney, S.J., Catherine Goddard Clarke, and Avery Dulles taken about 1946 in front of St. Benedict’s Center, Cambridge, Massachusetts, photographer unknown. The photograph is preserved in the archives of the St. Benedict’s Center, Still River, Massachusetts. Permission to use it has been granted by Abbot Gabriel Gibbs, O.S. B. During his second year at Harvard Law, Dulles had signed up for the Naval Reserve and after Pearl Harbor (December 7, 1941) he was called up to active duty in the Navy. He left Boston and St. Benedict Center, but throughout the war he kept in close contact with Catherine Clarke, his godmother, Leonard Feeney, and other members of the Center. In the spring of 1946, after the war, he returned to Boston and the Center, but his stay there was short-lived because by that time he had decided that he wanted to become a Jesuit. Nonetheless during the summer of 1946, he helped to create, with the official approval of the archdiocese of Boston, a journal called From the Housetops that was to serve as a sounding board for the intellectual interests of the numerous students who were now associated with the Center. Before he left for the Jesuits, Dulles edited the first issue of the new journal and then turned it over to others. That journal would become the primary instrument for articulating the Center’s emerging doctrine of no salvation outside the Church. While Dulles was in the Navy, Feeney began to preside over the Center, electrifying the students with his wit, urbanity, spirituality, and BY PATRICK CAREY 557 increasingly critical views of the materialistic and anti-religious directions of American cultural life—views that resonated with those of many Catholic students and faculty who joined the Center. While he was still teaching at the Jesuit School of Theology at Weston, Massachusetts, in 1941-42, Feeney came to the Center on Thursday nights to give a weekly lecture and to lead students in prayer and discussion. By 1945 he had become so popular and was in such demand at the Center that his Jesuit superiors appointed him to serve as a fulltime pastor to the large number of students who came to the Center to hear the charismatic Feeney give his famous Thursday night lectures on various religious, philosophical, and literary topics. Gradually the atmosphere at the Center began to change as Feeney and some faculty members from Boston College who were closely identified with Feeney became increasingly critical of an American culture they considered out of sync with Christian values, and moving in a direction that was distinctly secular. More and more, too, they vocalized their apprehensions about Catholics (especially those they tagged “liberal Catholics”) who were capitulating to the growing secular mentality or were unwilling or unable to distinguish clearly between a Catholic and a secular American way of life.4 Feeney and others, too, criticized Catholic parents who were sending their children to godless schools like Harvard, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, and other bastions of American respectability. Catherine Goddard Clarke charged that Catholics who asserted that “the things on which we [Christians] agree are vastly more important than the things on which 4 Juan M. Ribera,“How Do Liberal Catholics Talk?” From the Housetops 3 (September 1948), 5-14. Catherine Clarke defined a liberal Catholic as “one who, having taken all his cultural standards from a non-Catholic society, tries to make his Catholic dogmas square with these standards. Liberal Catholicism can occur in any country because it is a relative thing. Our battle with it is particularly as it has occurred in the United States, where non-Catholicism anteceded the advent, in large numbers, of Catholics. This situation induced Catholics to attempt to reconcile beliefs they had brought over from Europe with the humanitarian, utilitarian, pragmatic and political ideals of the new world into which they now moved. As a result, Catholics stopped being interested in Christ, and started being interested in Christianity. This term Christianity quickly became hyphenated with the various secular group movements, and it ended up by leaving Catholics with a set of relative standards as regards religion, and caused them to abandon, little by little, their dogmatic certitudes.” The Loyolas, pp. 50-51. A large number of Catholics eventually came under this umbrella of liberalism, including Sister Mary Madeleva, president of St. Mary’s College in South Bend, Indiana, and the theologian Joseph Fenton of the Catholic University of America. On these designations, see ibid., p. 98, and Clarke’s Gate of Heaven, pp. 128-129. 558 ST. BENEDICT CENTER AND NO SALVATION OUTSIDE THE CHURCH, 1940-1953 we differ” were simply soft-minded or indifferent to the truth.5 St. Benedict’s members also critiqued the intellectual pride in American life, a pride that failed to recognize the limits of scientific knowledge. A science that could develop an atom bomb and not consider the morality of dropping it manifested a society out of touch with basic Christian values.6 The dropping of the bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki angered many at St. Benedict’s, particularly Catherine Goddard Clarke, the primary force behind the Center before Feeney’s arrival. In 1950, she wrote: We were never quite the same, at St. Benedict Center, after the dropping of the atom bomb. It seemed to have shocked us awake. It was almost as if we saw the life around us for the first time. The scales fell from our eyes, and we beheld clearly as actualities many things which we had dreaded might one day be the outcome of our exclusively humanitarian society.7 The “exclusively humanitarian society” represented for her as for many at St. Benedict’s the radical divorce between Christian and American life.The new atomic age,“born out of the abandonment of a Christian principle,” 8 called for a radical renewal of the Christian spirit that would permeate all of life and all of culture. St. Benedict’s stood for this Christian renewal. The Center that Avery Dulles had originally helped to establish had changed significantly by 1946. It continued to be, as Dulles and some of its other founders envisioned it, a center for the personal return to Christ and for the renewal of the inner Christian spirit, but it added to that original intent a new, more separatist dimension that was highly critical of the society around it and vigorously censorious of Catholics who called for adjustments or accommodations to American society. Without being censorious or separatist, Dulles, the veteran, shared much of St. Benedict’s counter-cultural attitude once he returned from the war. In the first issue of From the Housetops, Dulles revealed his attitude to the difficulties of keeping the faith in modern society: The atmosphere of nominal Christianity and practical atheism with which we are surrounded is capable of being, in its own way, severely detrimental 5 Catherine Clarke,“Common Objectives,”From the Housetops 2 (March 1948), 17-24. On this, see, for example, Fakhri Maluf, “The Dangers of Scientism,” From the Housetops 1 (December 1946), 33-43. 7 The Loyolas, p. 45. 8 Ibid. 6 BY PATRICK CAREY 559 to our faith. . . . The precious principles for which we stand, although not presently under the stress of physical assault, are being constantly subjected to the incursions of an alien culture. Every culture which is not Catholic is in some degree anti-Catholic . . . we are experiencing the impact of social pressures to conform our behavior to standards very different from those of Christ. . . . Due to the infiltration of falsehood into the lower levels of our consciousness, our view of the universe tends to become half Christianity and half miscreant . . . we must resolutely refuse to expose ourselves unnecessarily to the contagion of false doctrine and false values. The belief that one can with impunity consort constantly with heretics and atheists, and casually exchange ideas with them, is a dangerous product of modern liberalism.9 Keeping the faith meant not only being aware of the dangers posed by modern culture; it meant a constant attempt to exercise the virtue of faith for the progressive personal development of faith. Faith, being a virtue, cannot long survive if it is not from time to time placed in act. Like other habits, it quickly atrophies through disuse, and becomes strong through exercise. Each act of faith renders the next not only easier but also more complete and acceptable . . . gradually, under the tutelage of the Church, we become instructed in the specific doctrines which follow from these central [creedal] truths. As these implications are spelled out in our minds, there occurs in each of us something comparable to the development of doctrine experienced by the Church as a whole. This process is not only healthy but, in a sense, obligatory. . . . The progressive realization in our souls of the Christian vision can be furthered in any of a number of ways.10 In the 1980’s, many years after he left the Center, Dulles acknowledged that it was developing into a monastic-like sect in the mid 1940’s,11 a tendency that he did not share in later years but one that was closer to his own sensibilities in the mid 1940’s. Dulles’ opposition to the secular culture, however, was personal; he did not foster a corporate or integral Catholic opposition to that culture even in the early 1940’s. St. Benedict’s was for him primarily a place where he could personally develop his faith and understanding of the Christian tradition. After Dulles left for the Jesuits, the Feeneyites became more and more critical of the secular direction of American society and the “liberal Catholic” capitulations in that direction. Under the leadership of Father Feeney, moreover, they became increasingly rigorous in their interpretation of the Catholic doctrine of “no salvation outside the 9 “On Keeping the Faith,” From the Housetops 1 (1946), 60-62. Ibid., pp. 63-66. 11 James O’Toole’s Interview with Dulles, 1982, p. 20. 10 560 ST. BENEDICT CENTER AND NO SALVATION OUTSIDE THE CHURCH, 1940-1953 Church.” Feeney had been teaching that doctrine to students during the war and he was frequently asked about what that doctrine meant for those who were not in the Catholic Church. In response, as Catherine Clarke reported, he outlined his position: I don’t say that being in the Catholic Church alone saves you. I say that it is a ‘conditio sine qua non’. If you just go over and stand on the road to New York, you won’t get there.You have to go along the road. But, if you get on the wrong road to New York, it doesn’t make any difference whether you go along it or stand on it. It is just the wrong road. It is not the road to New York.12 Feeney’s position was shared by about sixty-five to seventy of his closest associates. It was not until 1947, however, that the young Feeneyites began to publish articles on the Catholic Church as the exclusive means of salvation. In “Sentimental Theology” Fakhri Maluf, a philosophy professor at Boston College, blasted those liberal Catholics whose “sentimentalism” led them to assert a kind of universal salvation “by sincerity” or who allowed for all kinds of exceptions and qualifications in their interpretation of the dictum. There was one way to heaven, and “this way is the Catholic Church, established by Christ and led by His vicar on earth.”Those who were in “any way severed from the unity of the Church and without the divinely established and infallible guidance of the Holy Father” were not to be saved.13 The theological criticisms of Catholics and other Christians on the issue of salvation mounted over the next two years. In December of 1948, Raymond Karam, another Feeneyite and at the time a graduate student in philosophy at Boston College,14 published “Liberal Theology and Salvation,” a devastating critique of the liberal or sentimental or minimalist Catholic understanding of extra ecclesiam. He mustered a catalogue of warrants from the Bible and tradition for a literal interpretation of the doctrine. What was needed was a clear and unambiguous assertion of Catholic dogma. Our age is witnessing a terrible defection of Christ’s word in the minds of innumerable Catholics. Infected with liberalism, surrendering their minds 12 Catherine Goddard Clarke, The Loyolas, p. 97. For some of Feeney’s sermons on the subject between 1942 and 1952, see his Bread of Life (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1952). 13 From the Housetops 2 (September 1947), 4, 7, 8. 14 On Karam, see Catherine Clarke, The Loyolas, pp. 143-144. BY PATRICK CAREY 561 to teachers of error and heresy, they minimize the importance of dogma and of Catholic unity, and they distort the meaning of Charity, changing that sublime supernatural virtue into a sentimental shadow which, at best, can be termed mere charitableness. . . . The eternal salvation of man is achieved by adhering to the word of Christ, by abiding in the vine. Those alone bear good fruit who have been faithful to the word of Christ. . . . It is part, therefore, of the doctrine of Jesus Christ that no man can be saved outside the Catholic Church.15 Karam’s interpretation was supported by a host of sources, including the “ex-cathedra” assertion of Pope Boniface VIII’s Unam Sanctum (1302) that it was “wholly necessary for the salvation of every human creature to be subject to the Roman Pontiff.”16 He dismissed those Catholics who pleaded for exceptions on the grounds of invincible ignorance (which he called a “sheer fiction”) or those who asked “what of those who had never heard of Christ?”The doctrine of the mercy and justice of God, which was behind the liberal Catholic objections to a rigorous interpretation of the dictum, could never conflict, Karam claimed, with the doctrine of “extra ecclesiam” because of the fundamental harmony of all dogmas in the Catholic tradition. God indeed willed the salvation of all creatures, and, Karam asserted, where God willed the end he also provided the means. If some people could not believe, it was because they would not believe. In other words it was their own blindness and willful rejection of the Church that would be responsible for their damnation.17 The St. Benedict Center’s interpretation of extra ecclesiam created a strong reaction in the Boston Catholic community. It eventually led to the interdiction of St. Benedict’s, the firing of Boston College professors who had supported the Center’s position on salvation, and Father Feeney’s removal from the Jesuits and his subsequent excommunication. The archbishop of Boston, Richard James Cushing, a fellow student with Feeney at Boston College High School, became increasingly upset with the attitudes that were developing at St. Benedict’s as well as with the interpretation of extra ecclesiam.As an auxiliary bishop in 1940 he had enthusiastically patronized the St. Benedict Center and in 1946, as archbishop, he had given his approval for the publication of From the Housetops and told Feeney, Dulles, and others who had requested ecclesiastical approval for the journal 15 From the Housetops 3 (December 1948), 6. Ibid., p. 14. 17 Ibid., pp. 10-12. 16 562 ST. BENEDICT CENTER AND NO SALVATION OUTSIDE THE CHURCH, 1940-1953 that Feeney himself should censor the articles. But by the beginning of 1948 he showed signs that he was uneasy with a strident attitude that tended to break the interreligious peace of the immediate postwar American world. Cushing was, as James Garneau has pointed out,18 an inclusive Americanist—that is, like many of his episcopal colleagues and many other Catholics in the post-war period, he saw little or no inconsistency between his avid patriotic Americanism and his Romanism. He had his own religious belief, which he held with absolute and uncompromising conviction, but he was tolerant of other beliefs; like some other religious Americans he accepted a strict internal discipline in the Church but acknowledged diversity outside of it. By the late 1940’s he began to believe that Feeney and his associates were unnecessarily breaking the bonds of an American religious toleration that did not always degenerate into doctrinal relativism or indifferentism. In February of 1948 he called for “an end of feuding over religious dogmas and a resurgence of tolerance and magnanimity.”Without reference to St. Benedict’s he asserted that though one could not compromise one’s religious doctrines concerning the next world, one could not afford the luxury of fighting one another over them. Christians should unite to save what was worth saving in this world.19 By August of 1948 he was clearly more upset by what was happening at St. Benedict’s. In a speech at Milton, Massachusetts, he is reported to have denounced Catholics who had verbally assaulted other religions, and promised that he would remedy such prejudice in his diocese. He added that some of the diocese’s best benefactors were non-Catholics.20 The Jesuits, too, were becoming upset with Feeney and his leadership. In August 1948, the Jesuit Provincial, John J. McEleney, S.J., reassigned Feeney to Holy Cross College. Eventually Feeney refused to leave, arguing that the students at the Center were counting on his courses for the fall semester and he could not be replaced with such a short notice of his removal. Neither he nor his associates saw his refusal as a violation of his vow of obedience. They appealed to St. Thomas Aquinas to support their contention that obedience was not 18 “Cardinal Cushing of Boston (1895-1970),” unpublished paper delivered at the American Catholic Historical Association’s Winter Meeting, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, January 7, 2006, pp. 5-7. 19 “Archbishop Asks End to Feuding Among Religions,” Boston Daily Globe (February 16, 1948), 5. 20 “Abp. Cushing Asks Catholics to End Any Religious Bias,” Boston Daily Globe (August 9, 1948), 1, 9. BY PATRICK CAREY 563 to be given to superiors in all things. In the Summa Theologica, Aquinas, interpreting Acts 5:29 (“We ought to obey God rather than men”), argued that “Now sometimes the things commanded by a superior are against God.Therefore superiors are not to be obeyed in all things.”21 Feeney was needed, Clarke and other members claimed, to continue to foster the spiritual life. In September the Feeneyites wrote the Jesuit Provincial protesting the reassignment order.22 In the midst of this controversy with the Jesuit Provincial, moreover, they met with Archbishop Cushing and Auxiliary Bishop John Wright to try to iron out what they considered unjustified orders on the part of religious superiors. But they received no satisfaction in those ecclesiastical quarters. Feeney continued to serve at the Center and to reject orders from his ecclesiastical superiors. Members of St. Benedict’s now considered episcopal leadership itself to fall under the “liberal” label. They compared themselves to St.Athanasius and St.Thomas More, both of whom suffered persecution from ecclesiastical authorities when they upheld orthodoxy. St. Athanasius was in fact exiled five times for upholding right doctrine.23 Like St. Athanasius and St. Thomas More, the St. Benedict’s group was being persecuted by a hierarchy influenced more by liberal than by Catholic doctrines. Under such circumstances, on January 1, 1949, after the publication of the Karam article, about seventy members formed a new religious congregation called the Slaves of the Immaculate Heart of Mary and took vows that bound them to a religious life, whether married or celibate.They would maintain orthodoxy in spite of ecclesiastical disapproval.They believed that they may have to suffer for their orthodox cause, as did the Saints Athanasius and More, but, they asserted, history would eventually vindicate their cause as it did that of those two saints. 21 Text cited in Clarke, The Loyolas, p. 117. Letter republished in Clarke, The Loyolas, p. 113. 23 Clarke, The Loyolas, p. 118.The appeal to St.Athanasius as a model of orthodoxy in spite of persecution was very much a part of St. Benedict Center from the earliest days. Like many at the Center, Avery Dulles was interested in studying the fathers and doctors of the Church and had planned to write a book on the Church doctors. He had prepared four chapters of his book before he abandoned the project when he entered the Jesuits. See “Chapter I. St. Athanasius” (April 1946); “Saint Ephrem,” From the Housetops 1 (December 1946), 50-60;“Chapter III. Saint Hilary” (May 1946);“Chapter IV. Saint Cyril of Jerusalem” (May 1946). The unpublished texts are in the Dulles Papers at Fordham University. Dulles’ paper on St.Athanasius underlined Athanasius’ courage and steadfastness in holding on to orthodox doctrine in the midst of a world that was very much against him. 22 564 ST. BENEDICT CENTER AND NO SALVATION OUTSIDE THE CHURCH, 1940-1953 While St. Benedict’s was organizing itself into a religious community at the beginning of 1949, Philip J. Donnelly, S.J., a professor of dogmatic theology at the Jesuit seminary at Weston, Massachusetts, was preparing a position paper,“Some Observations on the Question of Salvation Outside the Church” (January 29, 1949) for Boston College. The paper was a direct response to Karam’s December 1948 article.24 The thesis of the brief paper was indicated in the opening sentence: “The first point to be made is that the formula ‘extra ecclesiam nulla salus’ must not be understood in the sense that salvation is impossible for any one who does not believe explicitly in the Catholic Church, and does not accept all the revealed truths proposed by her for belief.” Donnelly went on to support his argument by citing the Church’s traditional teachings on a baptism of desire and the possibility of invincible ignorance as grounds for acknowledging the possibility of salvation for those outside the Catholic Church. Donnelly’s attitude to the Center came out clearly. He asserted that “It is quite one thing to maintain that Protestants or pagans are just as favorably situated with regard to salvation as Catholics, and quite another thing to maintain that they are in bad faith and are to be spurned because they do not submit to a distorted interpretation of Catholic doctrine.” The spirit behind St. Benedict’s, Donnelly asserted, not only alienated Protestants but was also a “positive scandal to Catholics.” He ended his brief “Observations” with an attack on “some Catholics, whose zeal outruns their knowledge of Catholic truth.”Those Catholics “fall into the state of mind that they condemn so bitterly, namely, a spirit of smug Protestant righteousness, of arrogating to oneself the prerogative of judging others with the mercilessness of a Lutheran or Calvinistic God, and of superficial private judgment in a totally unfounded interpretation of the subjective state of Protestants generally, and in a corresponding depreciation of authority, which borders on contempt.” This retort was not calculated to bring peace to the Boston Catholic community.And it did not. Karam responded with a seventy-page reply to what he called this “perfect expression of liberalism,”25 an article that lined up again all the sources for his restricted view of extra ecclesiam. Karam’s initial article on “Liberal Theology and Salvation” had disturbed the Boston episcopacy to such an extent that it had decided to shut down From the Housetops. Accordingly, Monsignor Augustine F. 24 The brief paper was published by Karem in “Reply to a Liberal,” From the Housetops 3 (Spring 1949), 1-70. See pp. 5-7 for “Some Observations.”The paper is also in the archives of Boston College. 25 Ibid., p. 3. BY PATRICK CAREY 565 Hickey, pastor of St. Paul’s Church in Cambridge, Massachusetts, was ordered on January 17, 1949 to tell Father Feeney that the chancery had suspended the journal. The order had little effect. The magazine continued to publish in defiance of the “liberal” archdiocese. By the end of January 1949 the contest between the Center and Boston College was reaching a point of no return. Three Boston College professors (i.e., Fakhri Maluf, James R. Walsh, and Charles Ewaskio) and a teacher of German at Boston College High School (David D. Supple), all of whom were members of St. Benedict’s, wrote a letter to the President of Boston College, William L. Keleher, S.J., on January 24, 1949 protesting against those professors at Boston College who were teaching heresies on salvation.26 That charge got the three professors in trouble with Boston College.The President, after an investigation of the charges, warned the three that they were in danger of being fired if they continued to make unsubstantiated charges. The three, with support from other members, wrote Keleher protesting that their academic freedom was being violated. They also wrote to Archbishop Cushing and then appealed to Pope Pius XII on February 11, 1949, protesting against the “false doctrines” on salvation being taught in Catholic colleges and seminaries in the United States and dangerous practices of interfaith meetings being conducted by some American Catholics. Such doctrinal laxity needed to be investigated, the letter implied.27 The three professors continued to push their case before the Jesuit Provincial, the Superior General of the Jesuits in Rome, as well as the President of Boston College. Finally, in April the President called the three in and presented them with an ultimatum: retract their charges or be fired.They would not retract and were summarily fired.28 The President claimed that all four teachers were 26 Letter in Clarke, The Loyolas, pp. 154-155. Letter in Clarke, The Loyolas, pp. 159-161. 28 The first dispute over academic freedom in Catholic colleges, according to Philip Gleason, arose in 1965 at St. John’s University in Jamaica, New York. For Gleason’s assessment of the St. John’s academic freedom case, see his Contending With Modernity: Catholic Higher Education in the Twentieth Century (New York, 1995), pp. 308-310. Gleason did not consider the Boston College case. The fact that the Boston controversy has not received much attention as an issue of academic freedom may say something about the general sensitivities of Catholic college professors in the 1940’s for whom the issue of academic freedom was not a high priority. Professors at Boston College who apparently were unsympathetic with the fired professors did not protest against the president’s decision. It was clear to Father George A. O’Donnell, S.J., dean of Boston College’s Graduate School, however, that the issue was one of academic freedom. He was reported to have said:“It is very strange that the first time that the question of academic 27 566 ST. BENEDICT CENTER AND NO SALVATION OUTSIDE THE CHURCH, 1940-1953 removed from their positions because of “ideas leading to bigotry and intolerance.”29 St. Benedict’s appeals to Pope Pius XII put the Vatican machinery into operation. The pope sent the Feeneyite letter to the Roman Congregation of the Holy Office, the Vatican congregation that decided issues of faith and doctrine, for a determination.The Holy Office met in July of 1949 and issued a decision, Suprema haec sacra (August 8, 1949), which was sent to Archbishop Cushing, communicated to members of St. Benedict’s, and then excerpts of the declaration were published in the Boston Pilot.30 The “unfortunate controversy” over the axiom “no salvation outside the Church,”the Holy Office declared, arose from the fact that it “was not correctly understood and weighed, and that the same controversy was rendered more bitter by serious disturbance of discipline arising from the fact that some of the associates of the institutions [St. Benedict’s and Boston College] . . . refused reverence and obedience to legitimate authorities.” The axiom, the decree continued, contained an “infallible statement” (infallible effatum continentur)31 that the Church had always and would never cease to preach, but “this dogma must be understood in that sense in which the Church herself understands it. For, it was not to private judgments that Our Saviour gave for explanation those things that are contained in the deposit of faith, but to the teaching authority of the Church.”The Holy Office then proceeded to interpret the axiom, declaring that “no one will be saved who, knowing the Church to have been divinely established by Christ, nevertheless refuses to submit to the Church or withholds obedience from the Roman Pontiff, the Vicar of Christ on earth.” This interpreta- liberty arises here we should be to the ‘left’ against an extremely ‘right’ position.” On this, see Clarke, The Loyolas, p. 150. Perhaps a more thorough examination of the Boston case can tell us something about the slow development of sensitivities to academic freedom in American Catholic colleges and universities. 29 “Jesuit Defends 4 in ‘Heresy’ Case,” New York Times (April 18, 1949), 25. 30 See “Holy Office Condemns Teachings and Actions of St. Benedict’s Center,” Boston Pilot 120 (September 3, 1949), 1. In what follows I am quoting from the Boston Pilot’s 1952 English translation of the entire text. See “Suprema Sacra Congregatio Sancti Officii,”Boston Pilot 120 (September 6, 1952): 1. See also “A Letter From the Holy Office,” American Ecclesiastical Review 127 (October 1952), 305-315. The Holy Office’s decision was eventually published in Denzinger, see Enchiridion Symbolorum Definitionum et Declarationum de Rebus et Morum, edited by Henry Denzinger and Adolf Schönmetzer, 33rd edition (New York, 1965), nrs. 3866-3873. 31 When excerpts from the decree were translated in 1949, this passage was translated as an “incontestable principle.” See “Holy Office Condemns Teachings and Actions of St. Benedict’s Center,” Boston Pilot 120 (September 3, 1949), 1. BY PATRICK CAREY 567 tion, however, was not meant to exclude from salvation all those who did not belong to the body of the Church. The Holy Office made it clear that it did not agree with the rigorous interpretation.“That one may obtain eternal salvation, it is not always required that he be incorporated into the Church actually as a member, but it is necessary that at least he be united to her by desire and longing. However, this desire need not always be explicit, as it is in catechumens; but when a person is involved in invincible ignorance, God accepts also an implicit desire, so called because it is included in that good disposition of soul whereby a person wishes his will to be conformed to the will of God.”There were those, as Pius XII indicated in Mystici corporis (1943), who were related to “the Mystical Body of the Redeemer by a certain unconscious yearning and desire.” Those with a certain “implicit desire” could not be excluded from salvation as long as that desire was “animated by perfect charity.” Taking these qualifications of the axiom into consideration, the Holy Office declared that the teaching found in the Karam article, was “far from being” the “genuine teaching of the Catholic Church” and was “very harmful both to those within the Church and those without.” The document also singled out Father Feeney, saying that it was “beyond understanding” how he could consider himself a “Defender of the faith” and at the same time “not hesitate to attack the catechetical instruction proposed by lawful authorities, and has not even feared to incur grave sanctions threatened by the sacred canons because of his serious violations of his duties as a religious, a priest, and an ordinary member of the Church.” In the past, Feeney had attacked a revised edition of the Baltimore Catechism,32 as a “liberal” document because of 32 In 1949, the American Catholic bishops published a revised edition of the Baltimore Catechism, entitled A Catechism of Christian Doctrine, No. 3 (Paterson, N.J., 1949).The catechism interpreted the extra ecclesiam doctrine:“When we say,‘Outside the Church there is no salvation,’ we mean that those who through their own grave fault do not know that the Catholic Church is the true Church or, knowing it, refuse to join it, cannot be saved.‘Outside the Church there is no salvation’ does not mean that everyone who is not a Catholic will be condemned. It does mean that no one can be saved unless he belongs in some manner to the Catholic Church, either actually or in desire, for the means of grace are not given without some relation to the divine institution established by Christ.” Feeney protested that this interpretation “contradicts the dogma which has been defined repeatedly by the Catholic Church, namely that there is no salvation outside the Church.” In view of the episcopal teaching, Feeney is reported to have said that he and others were appealing to the pope for an ex cathedra papal pronouncement against this episcopal teaching. On Feeney’s assertions, see “Papal Rule Asked on New Catechism,” New York Times (April 23, 1949), 9. 568 ST. BENEDICT CENTER AND NO SALVATION OUTSIDE THE CHURCH, 1940-1953 the qualifications it had placed on the extra ecclesiam dictum. The Holy Office concluded by calling upon the St. Benedict’s associates to abide by their own principles and submit to the teaching of the Catholic Church and to the Sovereign Pontiff, a submission that “is required as necessary for salvation.”33 After receiving the Vatican document, Archbishop Cushing called Feeney to come to his home to hear the decision, but Feeney refused to do so. Cushing then sent his Vicar General and two clerical representatives of the diocese to inform Feeney and others of the decision, but they all refused to listen. They were convinced that Rome could not have decided against them. Even prior to this encounter, on April 18, 1949, Cushing had suspended Feeney and interdicted St. Benedict’s. After repeated attempts to get Feeney to respond to his Jesuit superior’s entreaties to recant and obey, the Jesuit General in Rome finally, on October 10, 1949, dismissed Feeney from the Jesuits. After being notified of his dismissal, Feeney told reporters that he was being treated unjustly and that leaders of the Boston archdiocese were “notably ignorant in the field of Catholic theology.”34 Despite the suspension and the interdict, Feeney continued to serve at the Center, in opposition to Archbishop Cushing’s orders and in defiance of the Vatican declaration, which he and his associates considered a manifestation of the extent of liberalism within the Church. Nonetheless, Feeney felt vindicated to some extent by Pope Pius XII’s encyclical Humani generis (August 21, 1950), which clearly upheld the extra ecclesiam doctrine. The pope declared, though, that “Some reduce to a meaningless formula the necessity of belonging to the true Church in order to gain salvation. . . .These and like errors, it is clear, have crept in among certain of our sons who are deceived by imprudent zeal for souls or by false science. To them we are compelled with grief to repeat once again truths already well known and to point out with solicitude clear errors and dangers of error.”35 The New York Times and other newspapers and journals across the country saw these statements as a clear vindication of Father Feeney’s position, and asked him to comment on them. He, of course, happily 33 Because of ongoing conflicts between the archdiocese and St. Benedict’s, the full Latin text and the English translation were published in 1952. See “Suprema Sacra Congregatio Sancti Officii,” Boston Pilot 120 (September 6, 1952), 1. 34 “Expelled By Jesuits, Father Feeney Says,” New York Times (October 29, 1949), 30. 35 Humani generis, nrs. 27-28. See Claudia Carlen, ed., The Papal Encyclicals 19391958 (Raleigh, 1990), p. 179. BY PATRICK CAREY 569 responded that the pope was giving the same kind of warning about lax and dangerous and liberal interpretations of that doctrine that Feeney had himself been giving for years.“I am positive the encyclical (on dogma) upholds our stand on doctrine,” he announced to newspaper reporters.36 After the publication of Humani generis, Catholic newspapers continued to interpret the doctrine extra ecclesiam with the traditional qualifications.The “liberal” Father Fenton of the Catholic University of America published two articles on the encyclical in the American Ecclesiastical Review in February and March 1951, charging that Father Feeney, Karam, and others were those the pope had identified as reducing “the doctrine to a meaningless formula.” The Feeneyite interpretation, he implied, was “a mask or an excuse for disobedient and schismatical conduct towards legitimate ecclesiastical authority.” For Fenton the extra ecclesiam doctrine meant that no one could be saved “unless he is within the Church either in re or by either an explicit or an implicit votum [desire].” Such was the “standard terminology of most modern theologians on this subject.”37 The doctrine of extra ecclesiam was taught not only in Humani generis; it was at the heart of Pope Pius XII’s Mystici corporis (1943), and had been asserted in Vatican I’s first schema on the Constitution on the Church. The Boston heresy case came to a head in 1952, more than three years after the suspension and interdict, when the Holy Office examined the St. Benedict case again in response to repeated requests to do so. After considering the case, the Holy Office simply reaffirmed its decision of 1949 and asked Archbishop Cushing to publish in its entirety the 1949 Latin text with its English translation. Both texts were published in the Boston Pilot on September 6, 1952.The Vatican also made one final attempt to bring about a reconciliation with Feeney. The Holy Office wrote him, ordering him, under pain of excommunication, to come to Rome to explain his actions.The effort, however, was of no avail. On February 13, 1953, therefore, the Vatican 36 On Feeney’s responses, see Clarke, Gate of Heaven, pp. 22-24, 34-35.“Absolved of Heresy by Pope, Feeney Says,” New York Times (August 23, 1950), 38. 37 “The Meaning of the Church’s Necessity for Salvation,” American Ecclesiastical Review 124 (February 1951), 124-143; (March 1951), 203-221. See pp. 126-129, 141-142, 203 for Fenton’s comments on the Feeneyites. For Clarke’s reaction to Fenton’s interpretation, see Gate of Heaven, p. 24. Later in his career, Fenton published a monograph on the subject; see The Catholic Church and Salvation: In the Light of Recent Pronouncements of the Holy See (Westminster, Maryland, 1958). 570 ST. BENEDICT CENTER AND NO SALVATION OUTSIDE THE CHURCH, 1940-1953 excommunicated Feeney.38 He was excommunicated, though, for a disobedience that caused scandal and disunity in the Church. The extreme interpretation of extra ecclesiam was at the center of his disobedience. He continued to hold on to that interpretation for the remainder of his life, and found comfort in the fact that the Vatican itself had reasserted the doctrine of no salvation outside the Church even after he had been suspended and excommunicated. The doctrinal dictum would again be proclaimed at Vatican II. Lumen Gentium,Vatican II’s document on the Church, clearly articulated the ancient teaching: “Basing itself upon Sacred Scripture and Tradition, it [the Council] teaches that the Church, now sojourning on earth as an exile, is necessary for salvation. . . . Whosoever, therefore, knowing that the Catholic Church was made necessary by Christ, would refuse to enter or to remain in it, could not be saved.”39 After the Council the Catechism of the Catholic Church (1994) reaffirmed the teaching, providing the standard qualifications of the doctrine.40 Avery Dulles, S.J., as a theologian and a major interpreter of Vatican II, repeatedly referred to the extra ecclesiam axiom, but never in the Feeneyite sense. In fact, he argued against that interpretation in his doctoral dissertation and affirmed Suprema haec sacra’s qualifications of the doctrine.41 By the mid 1960’s he took a more radical approach 38 On the excommunication, see “Feeney Reported Excommunicated,” New York Times (February 20, 1953), 13. 39 Lumen Gentium, art. 14; see also arts. 18, 24, 26. Lumen Gentium, art. 16, adds in new language the traditional qualifier:“Those also can attain to everlasting salvation who through no fault of their own do not know the gospel of Christ or his Church, yet sincerely seek God and, moved by grace, strive by their deeds to do His will as it is known to them through the dictates of conscience.”See The Documents of Vatican II, ed.Walter M.Abbott (New York, 1966), pp. 32-34. 40 The Catechism of the Catholic Church (Washington, D.C., 1994), nos. 846-848. 41 Dulles had referred to the Holy Office’s 1949 Suprema haec sacra decision against St. Benedict’s in his doctoral dissertation, “Protestant Churches and the Prophetic Office,” S.T.D. dissertation, Pontifical Gregorian University, 1960, pp. 82-86, 92. He argued that Protestants could not only have the virtue of faith, which Suprema haec sacra affirmed, but the act of faith. In that dissertation, an excerpt of which was published in 1961, Dulles had also appealed to the Vatican document’s understanding of the implicit desire (votum) for baptism, arguing that the votum could be applied to other sacraments, including the sacrament of orders.Why could one not see in the Protestant rites of ordination an implicit desire for sacramental ordination? Could there not be, he asked, an “ordination in desire?” He was here extending the traditional modifications of the extra ecclesiam dictum well beyond traditional application, developing what John Courtney Murray had called the growing edge of the tradition. On this, see Dulles’ BY PATRICK CAREY 571 to the axiom, asserting that the “formula must be changed because in the mental and social structures of the contemporary world there is no longer any room for an exclusivist concept of the church.”42 He reinforced this interpretation in his Survival of Dogma (1971), where he advised interpreters of the doctrine to allow for “sociological factors that may have led to narrowness. . . , exorbitant claims (the bull Unam sanctam!), harshness toward adversaries and the like”; such claims were unconscious of the various factors that frequently influenced the human formulations of Catholic doctrine.43 In his Models of the Church, Dulles acknowledged the doctrine in his treatment of the institutional model of the Church. Speaking of Vatican I’s assertion of the doctrine, Dulles comments that “Subtle distinctions are made to mitigate the apparent harsh consequences of this position without lessening the motivation to join and remain in the ‘true Church.’” In Dulles’ institutional model, the Catholic Church tends to “become a total institution—one that exists for its own sake and serves others only by aggrandizing itself.”44 In describing his understanding of the sacramental model of the Church, the model he seems to prefer, Dulles notes that the sacramental model has an advantage over the institutional model in that “without neglecting the importance of the visible Church, [it] give[s] ample scope to the workings of divine grace beyond the limits of the institutional Church.” 45 That interpretation would not have been acceptable to the Feeneyites. Later in his career as a theologian, though, Dulles reaffirmed the axiom, acknowledging that it had been taught in the Second Vatican Council and the Catechism of the Catholic Church. By 2000, moreover, he wanted to counter a trend among some Catholics who held that the Catholic Church no longer taught the necessity of Christian faith for salvation. Vatican II, he told his readers, confirmed the doctrine of extra ecclesiam,“adding explanations that had become common in theology and papal teaching since the sixteenth century.”Such Catholic teaching, Protestant Church and the Prophetic Office (Woodstock, Maryland, 1961), pp. 40-41. St. Benedict’s, of course, would not have been happy with this ecumenical development. Repeatedly in later works Dulles appealed to Suprema haec sacra as a step on the way to official Catholic recognition (in Vatican II) of the ecclesial reality of non-Catholic churches. 42 “Dogma as an Ecumenical Problem,” Theological Studies 29 (September 1968), 407. 43 (New York, 1971), pp. 181-182. 44 Models of the Church (1978; New York, 2002), p. 34. 45 Ibid., p. 65. 572 ST. BENEDICT CENTER AND NO SALVATION OUTSIDE THE CHURCH, 1940-1953 though, held that “persons who are not in a position to recognize the necessity of believing in Christ and joining the Church may be saved, but only if they are positively related to Christ and the Church.”46 Dulles’ interpretation of extra ecclesiam reflected the view of the majority of Catholic theologians in the twentieth century. Dulles never supported Feeney’s and St. Benedict’s interpretation of extra ecclesiam and in fact separated himself from them as soon as they took up their stance, breaking off his previous extensive correspondence with his godmother Catherine Clarke and Feeney.47 Nevertheless, Dulles had a warm regard for Feeney, Clarke, and a number of the St. Benedict’s associates. Feeney was reconciled to the Church in 1972 and two years later a large segment of St. Benedict’s Center was also reconciled. When Feeney died in 1978, many of the press obituaries focused on his conflict with the Church and his excommunication. Dulles, however, wrote a memorial that highlighted his charismatic qualities as a priest, poet, teacher, and preacher. Most of his teachings were based on “solid doctrine.” 48 Two years after Feeney’s death, moreover, Dulles went to the reconciled St. Benedict’s Abbey in Still River, Massachusetts, to visit Feeney’s and Clarke’s graves and to celebrate with members of the community the fortieth anniversary of his own entrance into the Church, an entrance made easier with the assistance of his godmother Catherine Clarke, “a woman of charismatic charm and contagious enthusiasm.”49 He also returned to St. Benedict’s in 1990 to celebrate his fiftieth anniversary. Dulles did not reduce Feeney’s and Clarke’s lives to the doctrinal controversy, and he did not focus on the blunders of the past but on the positive contributions of Feeney and the St. Benedict’s Center. Despite his extremes, Feeney resisted “any dilution of the Christian faith” and passed it on “entire, as a precious heritage, to the generations yet to come.” He was “the great apostle of salvation within the church.”50 CONCLUSIONS What does this doctrinal conflict over salvation within the Church tell us about post-war American Catholicism? In some ways, Feeney 46 The New World of Faith (Huntington, Indiana, 2000), p. 109. The extensive correspondence between Dulles and Clarke is located in the archives of St. Benedict Abbey, Still River, Massachusetts. 48 “Leonard Feeney: In Memoriam,” America 138 (February 2, 1978), 135-137. 49 Ibid., p. 135. 50 Ibid., p. 137. 47 BY PATRICK CAREY 573 and his group reflected a tendency in post-war American Catholicism to develop a distinctive Catholic culture and to emphasize, without compromise, the beliefs of the Church. In other ways the Feeneyites were out of step with a tendency they saw in American Catholicism to minimize doctrine and especially to neglect the central importance of the doctrine of salvation. They protested repeatedly against an emerging all-inclusiveness with respect to salvation—a tendency that made salvation cheap, a matter of sentiment and/or of sheer will power. An American Catholic tendency to religious inclusiveness and toleration seemed to them to be a capitulation to the American tendency toward doctrinal indifferentism. What was needed was absolute consistency. They were not willing to play by the American rules of religious toleration and inclusiveness which they saw as sentimental religiosity—a religion without substance. Mark Massa has interpreted the Feeney episode as “the irony of the ‘boundary redefinition’ between Catholicism and American culture.”51 The Feeneyites’ cultural deviance, that is, their extravagant interpretation of extra ecclesiam, supplied a focus for American Catholic group identity in the post-war period. Their protests against a “seemingly uncritical embrace of all things American” ironically led to their ouster from the Catholic Church, out of which there was, in their view, no salvation. They established rigorous boundaries that the larger Catholic community could not accept. So, in Massa’s interpretation, the Catholic community used the Feeneyites in 1949 “to define itself vis-à-vis American culture.”52 Massa’s interpretation has much to recommend it in terms of cultural history. One can agree with Massa that St. Benedict’s case was significant historically because it reflected postwar tensions in Catholicism as it moved more and more to accommodate elements of American culture. The Feeney group,as Dulles suggests,clearly sensed what was going on, and its extreme counter-cultural reaction to what it considered a capitulation to the dominant cultural values tells us something about what was at stake in the postwar years. St. Benedict’s was clearly disturbed by Archbishop Cushing’s ecumenical activities and those of other “liberal” Catholics and they saw a certain softening of Catholic doctrines to foster an ecumenical spirit in the postwar years—a trend in American Catholicism that is generally unaccounted for in the history texts that 51 52 Catholics and American Culture, p. 23. Ibid., p. 35. 574 ST. BENEDICT CENTER AND NO SALVATION OUTSIDE THE CHURCH, 1940-1953 focus so much on the conflicts of the Paul Blanshard years. Historians of John Courtney Murray have identified Paul Hanley Furfey’s and Francis J. Connell’s opposition to intercredal cooperation in the immediate postwar years, but few have paid any attention to the more radical critiques of the issue by the Boston Feeneyites. More work needs to be done on this very early anti-intercredalism, a movement consistent with some Anti-Americanists of the late nineteenth century. Feeney’s reaction to the ecumenical trend was extreme, and extreme cases, as William James once taught, can tell us much about a subject because they yield “the profounder information.”53 The extraordinary reveals something of the ordinary, the abnormal something of the normal. The case of St. Benedict’s can tell us much about American Catholicism in general at mid-century. The St. Benedict’s group indicates something of the counter-cultural reactions of the general Catholic ethos of the times, and it reveals much about the differing options presented to that community in the immediate post-war years.The group was also one of the first to designate a new phenomenon in American Catholicism, the presence of a “liberal” Catholicism. The fact that almost everyone outside St. Benedict’s fell into their “liberal” category should not detract from the historical significance of their designation of an emerging trend in American Catholicism.Their charges, moreover, reflect something of a recurring theme in American Catholicism. Not unlike the charges of capitulation to democracy brought against Bishop John England in the early nineteenth century, the Anti-Americanist charges of the late nineteenth century, and the anti-modernist charges of the early twentieth century, the anti-liberalism charges of the Feeney group discloses a theme in American Catholic history that has not received sufficient attention from historians. The Feeneyite critique of capitulation to American values, moreover, seems to me to be comparable to some American Catholic critiques of 1960’s—in style if not in substance. These similarities, too, need further historical assessment. The more substantive issue, however, is that of the American Catholic notions of the relationship between the Church and salvation. This doctrinal issue, too, has not received from historians the kind of analysis it deserves. The issue of salvation, a topic so central in 53 The Varieties of Religious Experience. A Study in Human Nature, Being the Gifford Lectures on Natural Religion Delivered at Edinburgh in 1901-1902 (London, 1902), p. 486. BY PATRICK CAREY 575 Protestant theology since the Reformation, has been given little attention in the histories of American Catholicism, and one wonders why? John Carroll addressed the issue of exclusive salvation in his first major published address (1784) to Catholics in the United States, John Thayer did so in 1792, and Orestes A. Brownson interpreted the extra ecclesiam dictum in a way analogous to the Feeney group in 1847 and 1874. I think we need a monograph on the history of the doctrine of salvation in American Catholicism. The United States did contribute something to the rethinking of the extra ecclesiam dictum, as the Boston heresy case reveals; that doctrinal issue in American Catholicism needs more careful historical analyses.54 The Boston heresy case needs to be put in a much larger context of the changing Catholic conceptions of the relationship between the Church and salvation in the twentieth century (especially between Mystici corporis in 1943 and the Second Vatican Council). Such a study could tell us much about the history of Catholic theology and much about the changing relationship between Catholics and Protestants in the United States.The issue of salvation is significant, too, because it is again a controversial issue in American Catholicism.We need to situate the current debates in a wider historical context. 54 Louis Capéran, Le problème du salut des infidèles, vol. 1, Essai historique, rev. ed. (Paris, 1934), Jerome P. Theisen, The Ultimate Church and the Promise of Salvation (Collegeville, Minnesota, 1976), and Francis A. Sullivan, Salvation Outside the Church? Tracing the History of the Catholic Response (New York, 1992), have examined the longer history of the phrase, and Theisen and Sullivan have included some reference to the St. Benedict case, but they have not focused on the American Catholic understanding of the doctrine. MISCELLANY MY LIFE OF LEARNING BY JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J.* Aunt Annie, Uncle, and their grown son Paul lived next door to us. They were Easthoms, my mother’s family on her mother’s side. The Easthoms were supposedly Methodists, but they smoked, drank, carried on, and never were known to darken a church door. I liked them a lot. They got along marvelously well with the Gallaghers, mother’s family on her father’s side. The Gallaghers were Catholics, but the difference in religion was taken in stride through several intermarriages of the two families. Aunt lived with mother, dad, and me. She too was an Easthom, Uncle’s sister. We had Easthom relatives all over that little easternmost plot of Ohio right on the Ohio River. One of my favorites was my great-uncle Noble Easthom, brother to Aunt and Uncle. I liked him as much for his neat name as for anything else. Although the Easthom women had not the slightest inkling of it, they were DARs, but of the underachieving variety. The whole clan lacked ambition and was intent simply on enjoying life as much as possible, as long as not too much exertion was required in doing so. In that regard the Gallaghers could hardly have been more different.They were energetic, ambitious, and intellectually curious. They were also social climbers. Michael Gallagher, my mother’s uncle and her legal guardian after her parents died, made a modest fortune for himself in mining and railroads, and he rose to prominence in the inner circle of his fellow Ohioan, that great American president Warren G. Harding. To the relief and somewhat to the surprise of the family, Uncle Mike escaped unscathed in the Teapot Dome Scandal. Yes, except for the Easthoms, all my relatives, including my father’s family, were staunch Republicans. The Easthoms were as unpolitical as they were unchurched, except that they for good reason kept a wary eye on local elections to see who might be elected sheriff. I assume it was my grandfather’s ambition for my mother, his only child, that motivated his sending her off at age ten to Mount de Chantal Academy, a rela*Father O’Malley is University Professor at Georgetown University. He presented this paper, except for a few minor editorial changes, at a plenary session of the annual meeting of the Sixteenth Century Studies Conference held in Salt Lake City, Utah, on October 27, 2006. 576 BY JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J. 577 tively near, highly esteemed convent boarding school, whose curriculum I described in my Four Cultures of the West—six years of French, four years of Latin, several sciences, et cetera, and of course a strong program in vocal and instrumental music. Besides my mother, five of my female cousins went to the Mount, loved it, and never got together without talking about it, which meant that the ethos of the school had a profound influence on my life. The six years of French, for instance, stuck with my mother, and we were therefore Francophiles. Even before I could read, mother taught me snatches of French verse, which in subtle ways opened vistas for me of life more exotic than Tiltonsville, Ohio, population 3,000. I was about ten when I discovered in the library of my grammar school a little book entitled something like The Kings of France. I devoured it, could not get enough of it, went back to it again and again. Not only was it about France, but it was about KINGS – about the good old days. I now see that my passion for The Kings of France was an early sign I was headed for no good. Despite my father’s surname, his family was in language and spirit German. His parents died in an influenza epidemic before he was a year old, and he and his two sisters were raised by their maternal grandparents, German immigrants. Hard to believe, but the O’Malleys spoke German at home! My dad’s two sisters married men of 100 per cent German background, which meant that that side of my family had decided Teutonic sympathies, only slightly tempered by the Great War and the rise of Hitler.They all lived in the big city of Wheeling,West Virginia, ten miles away, which is where my father also had his business. This side was as Catholic as Catholic could be, much stricter in their outlook and practice than either of my parents. I suspect that it was from my father’s family that I somehow picked up my early interest in the Reformation. That interest was also sparked, I am sure, by having so many Protestant relatives and by going to a public school where my classmates were about 50 per cent Methodist and 50 per cent Catholic. The two churches were the focal points for the social life of the town. In that regard the Catholics had a decided advantage in that their church sponsored bingo and card parties and at church picnics sold beer and wine. Long before anybody in our milieu had heard the word ecumenical, we kids were altogether ecumenical in our social relationships. Of my two best friends, one was a Methodist and the other, as best I could tell, casually agnostic. I can’t recall that we ever once had a conversation about religion. In any case, I was from a tender age a confirmed and irredeemable history addict. My mother was as much responsible for my addiction as anybody.When I was about eight I began piano lessons, and mother insisted with two successive teachers that I was to learn the history of music as well as keyboard skills. She herself picked the texts the teachers were to use. In high school, even though history courses were miserably taught by coaches and intended as easy-pass options for the football team, I took every one of them. I lapped them 578 MY LIFE OF LEARNING up, and therefore I’m sure that, totally unawares, I was roundly hated by the jocks for whom the courses were designed. In my first year in high school I had two remarkable teachers. Miss Funari taught Latin. Her course was certainly one of the most important intellectual experiences of my life. Under her tutelage I for the first time came to understand language and how it works. Mr. Kerr taught English. Every Friday he made us produce a different kind of paper—an essay, a poem, a story. He took me aside several times for encouragement about my writing, which meant a lot to an impressionable fourteen-year-old. By the end of high school I was fairly sure I wanted to be a priest, and I think I wanted to be so for the right reasons—but that is a story for another occasion. In my voracious but undisciplined reading, I’d often come across the Jesuits and knew that they were teachers, a vocation to which I was also attracted. Although I’d never laid eyes on a Jesuit in my life, I wrote away (as they say) toward the end of my senior year. If I were serious about joining, I was told in reply, I should go to Cleveland, about 100 miles away, to be interviewed. That’s what I did. In retrospect I marvel that my parents, otherwise level-headed, went along with this madcap venture of their only child—once I took the trouble to tell them what I had perpetrated in my correspondence. The Jesuits put me off for six months, ostensibly to give me time to do a crash course in Latin, but I’m sure it was also to give them a chance to look over this naive eighteen-year-old who appeared out of nowhere and knocked at their door. After I was admitted, the person who supervised my first two years in the order at the novitiate in Milford, Ohio, the Master of Novices, was a remarkable man,William Young. He had studied theology in Spain, read classics at Oxford, and went on to translate into English selections from the correspondence of Ignatius of Loyola and other important works related to Jesuit history. In that last regard he was a pioneer. Learned himself, he insisted with us novices that learning was an ideal of the Society of Jesus toward which every member should strive. I was not yet twenty, happily susceptible to this indoctrination. I moved through the Jesuit training, which included three years of teaching history at St. Ignatius High School in Chicago, an invaluable experience for me in making complex issues comprehensible. The final phase of the training was four years of theology at West Baden Springs, Indiana, which included ordination to the priesthood. During that phase I had several wonderful teachers. In fact, the general outlook of the faculty was, for Catholics in the United States in the late 1950’s, remarkably “progressive” and au courant with what was happening theologically in France and Germany on the eve of the Second Vatican Council. By this time there was no doubt in my mind or in the mind of my superiors that I would do a doctorate in history and do it in a university of my BY JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J. 579 choice. Although I knew precious little about the sixteenth century and the Reformation, I was attracted to it for reasons I suggested earlier, but now also because of the growing interest of Catholics in the ecumenical movement. For my final year of training as a Jesuit, I set off to Austria where I would perfect my German. Before I left the States, however, I visited three universities to which I would apply for my doctoral program—Ohio State, Princeton, and Harvard. My fourth and perhaps best option was to study at the University of Bonn with Hubert Jedin, the great historian of the Council of Trent. Once arrived in Europe, I went to see Jedin, who received me graciously. I therefore also applied there. The year in Austria proved extremely difficult for me emotionally. It was a total-immersion experience and culture-shock in capital letters. I was, moreover, often bored to utter distraction in this small village of Sankt Andrä im Lavanttal in Carinthia where the ten months would never end. Nonetheless, this was one of the great transforming experiences of my life, as I realized in a depth no book could ever teach me how difficult it is to empathize with and understand a culture not one’s own, whether those were cultures of the sixteenth or of the twentieth century. I was accepted at the schools to which I applied. Since I was interested in church history, the logical place for me was Bonn, the most illogical Harvard, which is of course where I decided to go. As ungrounded a decision as my decision to enter the Jesuits, it turned out to be, like the Jesuit one, inspired. Even at this early stage I had a half-formulated goal of integrating my church history into secular history, and I am sure that at some level that goal influenced my choice of Harvard. As the years have rolled on, the integration of religious history with cultural history has become ever more important to me and guided my scholarship at the deepest level. But first I had to get from Austria to Cambridge, Massachusetts. The only other American that I knew in Austria went to work persuading me to travel with him for a week in Italy on the way home—Venice,Verona, Florence, and Rome. I resisted. I did not want to go. I had no interest whatsoever in Italy, and the only word of Italian I knew was pizza. Finally, desperate to get my friend off my back, I agreed to make the trip. We arrived in Venice on a glorious day in July. I could not believe my eyes— the sheer physical beauty of the architecture and the people. Then the food! Venice was thrilling in a way no other city I had visited was thrilling. Then Verona, and then Florence, where we arrived at mid-day. That afternoon I ventured out alone and strolled toward the cathedral. I’ll never forget the moment my eye caught Giotto’s campanile. It took my breath away. Something was happening to me, and I liked it. Meanwhile that afternoon I kept walking past gelaterie, where the ice cream offerings were cleverly displayed so as to tempt the weak. Desire welled up within me. But I knew no 580 MY LIFE OF LEARNING Italian. Then I remembered: fortune favors the brave. I walked into one, pointed, got two dips, managed to pay for them, and walked out into the sunshine. As I licked away at my ice cream cone, I said to myself,“This is a good country.”Then, like a bolt of lightening out of the heavens, the fateful question struck me.Why don’t you go into Italian history? Yeah, why not, was the fateful answer to the fateful question. And thus it came to pass. I put it this way: Luther had his Tower Experience, I had my gelateria experience. At Harvard I met Myron Gilmore, my academic adviser, who also happened to be an Italophile. I also met Heiko Oberman, and my first semester I enrolled in his seminar on late-medieval Nominalism. Oberman, young, feisty, determined to prove himself and to test every student in the fiery furnace of his blunt Dutch criticism, shaped me like no other teacher up to that point. I learned in a new (sometimes painful) way what evidence was, how not to move beyond it, how important it was to examine one’s presuppositions and to discard them when the evidence proved them unfounded. Suffering bonded us students in the seminar together, and I formed friendships that have endured through the years. I fortunately had a good background in medieval Scholasticism and my Latin was fluent, so I was able to hold my own. Second semester was challenging in a different way in Gilmore’s seminar on Machiavelli, which I had no choice but to take. Just four students, no place to hide, and I knew nothing about the Renaissance, about Humanism, and of course nothing about Machiavelli except that he was a bad guy. For three and a half months every Monday evening I pasted a knowing smile on my face to try to conceal that I had absolutely no idea what anybody was talking about. Somehow I got through it, finished the year, and then sailed into preparation for the general examination to be taken at the end of the next year. In this preparation Giles Constable played an important role as one of my mentors, and I still marvel at how generous he was with his time for me. Meanwhile my thoughts turned to a dissertation topic. Myron suggested Giles of Viterbo, of whom of course I’d never heard before. I pasted that faithful old knowing smile on my face and said it sounded like a good idea. One day I noticed a poster in the office of the History Department announcing a new pre-doctoral Fellowship for research at the American Academy in Rome.That sounded like something worth trying for, because I had found out that most of Giles’s manuscripts were in Rome. So once again I wrote away, giving Myron Gilmore of course as a reference. A few weeks later Myron accosted me.“John, did you apply for a fellowship to the American Academy in Rome?” “Yes.” “Do you have any idea what the American Academy in Rome is?”“No.”“You’d better make an appointment to see me.” I got the fellowship, which led to two of the happiest and most formative years of my life. Distinguished scholars, guests of the Academy, regularly joined BY JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J. 581 us fellows at table. It was stimulating and fun. It was as transforming an experience on a happy note as my year in Austria had been transforming on a painful one. An added bonus was that Myron and Sheila Gilmore, of whom I had grown very fond, were in Rome my first year. The Academy had a strong art history component. I had never taken an art history course in my life, but in conversation at table I began to get a first-rate art history education. My appetite was whetted and made all the sharper by having so many masterpieces just a few hundred yards away. I was hooked, but of course never expected to have any professional relationship to the field. O happy days! O delicious months! O sweet years! Yet there was a little cloud on the horizon, the dissertation. Practically nothing of Giles’s large corpus had been printed, so without any training in paleography I was stuck with trying to decipher his manuscripts. My heart sank when I saw the first one, some 650 pages. That day I got through about half a page. I became more proficient with practice, but then I realized I could not make much sense of what I’d deciphered. This went on day after bleak day, month after increasingly desperate month. One day I bumped into Myron at the Academy. After a few pleasantries he asked the question I dreaded,“How’s the dissertation going?” I could not bear to tell him the depths of my despair.“All right,” I lied.“Oh, I’m so relieved to hear it,” he replied.“I was a little worried. A student of Sir Isaiah Berlin tried to write a dissertation on Giles. He had a terrible nervous breakdown.”Well, the good news was that I knew where I was headed. Bit by bit things got better and by March of my second year I was able to deliver a draft to Gilmore, who meanwhile had become director of Villa I Tatti, the Harvard Center for Renaissance Studies in the former home of Bernard Berenson outside Florence. Myron liked the dissertation, and that was that. Things were simple at Harvard in those days, and I did not have to face a committee. I need to mention that while I was at the Academy the Second Vatican Council was in session not more than a mile or so away. Through the Academy I had tickets to two of the great public sessions, and through some clerical contacts I managed to slip into a number of the press briefings that occurred every afternoon. I was of course keenly interested in the council because I was a priest and knew that the decisions of the council would probably affect that side of my life. I also had a more specific, professional interest in it. My work on Giles focused on his activities as a reformer of the Augustinian order when he was prior general, 1506-18. The council had taken aggiornamento, updating, as one of its leit-motifs, and I understood aggiornamento as a soft word for reform. The council provided me with a good foil for understanding aspects of the sixteenth century, and the sixteenth century provided me with a foil to 582 MY LIFE OF LEARNING understand some things happening in the council. What I was learning was that everything is grist for the historians’ mill, including their personal experiences and the events they are living through. This was exciting and stimulating, but I did not dream at the time that within a few years I would begin writing about the council on a professional basis or that I would continue to do so through the next thirty-five years. Truth be told, I am right now trying to write a book on the council. I had from the beginning of my doctorate, of course, wanted to contribute to scholarship, but I also hoped that I would be able to bring that scholarship to bear on contemporary issues. Somehow or other I’ve never been able to shake a preoccupation with the “so-what” question, a trait I inherited from my father. My interest in the council provided me my first opportunity to publish along that line, which in a modest way I have been able to do ever since on various topics in both professional and more popular media. When my time at the Academy drew to a close, my superior in the Jesuits assigned me to the University of Detroit. I had never been there before and soon came to, well, detest the place. I was rescued. Heiko Oberman had asked to read my dissertation. He invited me to publish it in a new series he was editing with Brill. I was delighted and honored. I felt, however, that the dissertation had been done in great haste and that I needed time to double-check and revise it. My dean, not so impressed with the invitation from Oberman as I was, said that the university had no provisions for a leave and, besides, had no money for one, but maybe in three or four years things might change. That pronouncement did nothing to warm my feelings toward him or toward the institution for which he spoke. I wrote to Myron telling him what had transpired and asked him if, possibly three or four years from now, he thought my project might be suitable for I Tatti. I tried to be clear I was speaking of the hypothetical future. Gilmore— bless him!—thought I was asking for the next year and replied that, yes, he had a fellowship for me. (As I mentioned, things were simpler in those days!) The very morning I got the letter, I announced it to the dean and told him in no uncertain terms that I was accepting it. Miracle, he was able immediately to come up with a leave from the university. I was on my way. The two years I spent at I Tatti were the icing on the cake. More wonderful conversations with top-notch scholars, many of whom of course were art historians, surrounded as we were every day with Berenson’s marvelous art collection. Most important, the years came at just the right time in my career; dissertation finished, a year away from it that provided distance and a change of pace, then back to it before it got stale, and finally time to get a head-start on other projects. Back to the University of Detroit. Shortly after I returned there, my book on Giles was published. During my absence the race riots had occurred, and much BY JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J. 583 of the city was in shambles—a tragedy from which Detroit has never recovered. Something else had happened while I was away. Despite tragedy in the city, the atmosphere in the university and the Jesuit community had changed for the better with a new president. Moreover, a number of my Jesuit contemporaries, fresh from first-rate PhDs, had arrived on the scene. It was a much happier, more stimulating place, and I a much happier person. By some process I do not recall, I got to know Tom Tentler, the author of Sin and Confession on the Eve of the Reformation, and Charles Trinkaus, the author of In Our Image and Likeness, both of whom were teaching at Ann Arbor. Charles invited me to give a paper at a conference he was organizing on religion in the Renaissance and late Middle Ages. I readily accepted and only later realized I did not have the slightest idea for a topic since I could not simply rehash Giles. I spent the summer before the conference in Rome, working desperately in the Vatican Library trying to find material on some new topic that would move me beyond Giles. I passed three or four frustrating weeks, racing through all kinds of materials, which simply by chance included some sermons preached before the popes in the Sistine Chapel. I paid no attention to them—preaching was a dull subject, after all. I was, however, getting frantic and thought of withdrawing from the conference. Then one day I stopped dead in my tracks.Wait a minute! Those sermons! They are completely different from what I had been led to believe preaching was like in this period before the Reformation. They were neither the tightly organized and cerebral Scholastic sermons, filled with citations from Aristotle and other learned sources, nor were they the popular or penitential sermons, those grab-bags of miracle stories and long-winded calls to conversion and penance. These sermons were short, inspirational pieces couched in elegant yet easily comprehensible Latin. During the time left to me in Rome I located about fifty of them in print, and practically all of them conformed to that pattern. Paul Oskar Kristeller participated in the conference at which I gave my paper, and he encouraged me to pursue the topic, but this time paying as much attention to the rhetorical form of the sermons as to their content. I had no interest in doing anything more with the sermons, let alone delving into the esoteric (for me) subject of rhetoric. Nonetheless, Helen North, professor of classics at Swarthmore, a great friend from Academy days and a specialist in the history of classical rhetoric, gradually interested me in the subject. I was prepared, therefore, when in the Vatican Library three years later I by accident ran across a passage—an aside, really—in a Renaissance treatise on epistolography describing the sermons in the Sistine Chapel and the style of rhetoric that shaped them. Eureka! All at once I saw how the sermons were put together and why in their aims, their tone, their vocabulary, and their uplifting spiritual message they were so different from medieval sermons. It was the rhetorical form that did it. The form framed and affected everything in them. 584 MY LIFE OF LEARNING I immediately cast aside the project I was working on and set to work on a book that was published under the title Praise and Blame in Renaissance Rome. The book sent me into a period in which writing about rhetoric and preaching is what especially occupied me, but something more profound had happened to me that has only deepened with the passing of the years.Working on the book got me to realize in a new way that in understanding texts, discourses, and people as much attention must be paid to form and to style as to anything else. Style, I realized more deeply and experimentally, is not a mere ornament of thought but an expression of meaning. It both manifests deep value systems and helps form them. That is indeed a basic premise of my recent Four Cultures of the West. At the very time I was working on Praise and Blame, John Padberg, a Jesuit friend of mine, had become president of the Weston School of Theology in Cambridge, Massachusetts, whose purpose was to give basic and advanced training in theology to Jesuits and to any others who were interested in church service or theological careers. I at first resisted John’s blandishments, but gradually became more attracted to the idea, and finally I asked for permission to go to Weston. It was another happy decision, as the fact that I remained on the Weston faculty from 1979 until 2006 testifies. Like my book on Giles, Praise and Blame caught the attention of some Renaissance art historians because it provided a theological context for their research. At a certain point Leo Steinberg initiated a correspondence with me about sermons preached in the Sistine Chapel on January 1, the feast of the Circumcision of Christ.A fair number of such sermons survived, and I tried to answer Leo’s questions as best I could. Shortly thereafter I received an invitation from Columbia University to act as a respondent to a lecture by Steinberg entitled “The Sexuality of Christ in Renaissance Art and Modern Oblivion.” THE SEXUALITY OF CHRIST! Anticipatory shades of The Da Vinci Code? Did I want publicly to comment on “the sexuality of Christ”? Curiosity overcame cowardice. As it turned out, I liked Steinberg’s lecture and gave it two thumbs up.When Steinberg later published a book on the subject, my comments were included as a “postscript.” Reviews of the book were mixed, with Catholic publications generally favorable, but with others sometimes more reserved or even negative. For myself, I’m proud of my little postscript, which some people said served as Steinberg’s nihil obstat or imprimatur. Meanwhile, John Shearman, the great expert on Raphael, became chair of the Fine Arts Department at Harvard and we soon struck up a friendship. I thus found myself more and more drawn into the art historians’ circle. I like being there. When I first began my doctorate, I had a vague idea of someday writing on the early history of the Jesuits, but I never quite got around to it. Just after I arrived at Weston I received an invitation to join an ongoing, in-house seminar that the Jesuits were running for themselves on their history and spirituality. I BY JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J. 585 accepted the invitation. At that very moment the Society of Jesus experienced a severe and unprecedented crisis. Pedro Arrupe, the order’s beloved superior general, had a bad stroke, and it soon became clear that, though he would survive it, he would never be able to return to his position. The Jesuits have had from the beginning of the order clear provisions for such an emergency: a vicar is always standing by to move in when necessary and to set in motion the procedures for the election of a new superior general. In this instance the vicar was Father Vincent O’Keefe, an American Jesuit, a friend of mine, and a close collaborator of Father Arrupe’s. Out of the blue, however, Pope John Paul II intervened.Without warning he set aside Father O’Keefe and appointed his own vicar to manage the affairs of the Society into the indefinite future. The intervention, obviously an act of profound distrust of the Society, was a terrible shock and left us all wondering “what next”? For several meetings of the seminar the papal intervention dominated our conversations. Should we publish something on the matter? If so, what? One question kept coming back.What in this situation is the import of our so-called “Fourth Vow”? Besides the usual three vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, Jesuits have another, which is to obey the pope “regarding missions.” Should the seminar take a look at that vow and say something about its relevance—or its irrelevance—in the present crisis? All eyes in the seminar were, unfortunately, turned to me. With considerable reluctance I agreed to try my hand at something. Once I began the research I was stunned at how little had been written about it and how sloppy most of the talk about the vow had been. I worked hard and was able to show that the vow was essentially a vow to be on call as missionaries and, as such, had nothing to do with the present crisis. Thanks to the prudent management of Father Paolo Dezza, the Jesuit whom the pope appointed as his vicar in place of Vincent O’Keefe, the Society was able within two years to resume its normal procedures. John Paul II apparently expected a mass rebellion on the part of the Jesuits and, when that did not happen, realized he had badly misread the situation. In 1983 I was elected to the meeting that elected the new general, Peter-Hans Kolvenbach. More important for my life of learning, the work in the seminar got me into the Jesuit sources in an intense, urgent, yet professional way, and it turned out to be the doorway that led to my spending the next decade working largely on Jesuit subjects. At about the same time, however, James McConica and Ronald Schoeffel, who had recently launched with the University of Toronto Press the project of translating into English the works of Erasmus, contacted me and asked me to help. Myron Gilmore was a great fan of Erasmus, and he had sparked the same interest in me. I had and still have a large print of Holbein’s portrait of Erasmus hanging in my office. I readily accepted the invitation, pitched in with some odds and ends connected with the series, and eventually edited three volumes, which only increased my admiration of “the Prince of the Humanists.” I found in Erasmus a kindred soul. 586 MY LIFE OF LEARNING As I was working on Erasmus and dabbling in Jesuit history on the side, I became aware that 1990-91 would mark two big anniversaries for the Society of Jesus—the five-hundredth anniversary of the birth of Ignatius of Loyola (we think!) and the four-hundred and fiftieth of the official founding of the Society in 1540. I wanted to contribute something to the celebration. After several false starts I conceived the idea of writing a sort of “basic book”about the early years of the Jesuits. For years I’d been annoyed at how off the mark most accounts were, whether from friend or foe, and how they located the story in misleading frameworks. The anniversaries came and went without my book seeing the light of day. The project was of course bigger and more complicated than I anticipated, and I often felt overwhelmed by it. Ah, me! The Jesuits were into everything, it seemed, and I had to try to school myself in subjects about which I knew nothing—and in a few about which nobody seemed to know anything.This was a very different experience from writing Praise and Blame. I had a contract with Harvard, but deadline after deadline passed. One day panic, the next day despair, the next day exaltation, the next day writer’s block. Then the cycle repeated itself. Sound familiar? The moral of the story: hang in there, and try to write something every day no matter how banal or stupid you think it is going to sound.When you come back the next day, you might be able to salvage a paragraph or two, and thus, agonizing paragraph by agonizing paragraph, the book gets written. The First Jesuits, for instance, was finally published in 1993, and it went on to do well with critics and even at the box office. I was happy, but I took a mighty oath, repeated again and again to anybody who would listen, that I would never, never, never, never ever again—no, NEVER—try to write another book. The oath didn’t work. I have since The First Jesuits edited some volumes and produced two more monographs. Father Young, the Master of Novices, used to tell us that once you got printers’ ink on your fingers you could never get it off. How right he was! In 2000 I published Trent and All That, a book about what to call the Catholic side of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries: Counter Reformation, Catholic Reform, or what? It is an honest book in that it developed out of a number of real-life dilemmas I found myself in, as for instance what entries to suggest from the Catholic side for the Oxford Encyclopedia of the Reformation. I began to see how right Whitehead was when he said that names are the most important part of a subject because they are short-hand definitions of it. I suppose what I was really trying to do with the book was to shake thing up a little bit, make us take a look at some received wisdom—or maybe received cliches—and then to question some conventional patterns of dealing with sixteenth-century Catholicism. To give a pedestrian but revealing instance: why do the Jesuits appear on the syllabus only after all the lectures on the Reformation? It’s neat, but is it right? BY JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J. 587 I published Four Cultures of the West two years ago. I was talked into writing it by my editor at Harvard after a casual mention I made of the cultures at a lunch we had together. Nobody in this room is probably more wary of such grand schemes than I am, and that kind of book is certainly about as unfashionable in academe today as it is possible to be.Yet I’m glad I wrote it because it tried to make historical scholarship relevant beyond professional historians and also because it drives home what has become one of the ongoing themes of my life of learning: style and content cannot be separated.We fail to understand content at its deepest level if we fail to take style into account. ***** As I look back, several things strike me about my life of learning. The first is the purifying or transforming aspect of the learning process.When I finished the dissertation I said to myself,“You will never be the same again.”I now knew what it was to know something that had taken me to the edge where nobody had been before. Ah, yes, a razor-thin little edge, but nonetheless I was alone there.What I said on that edge was not an act of faith in what others had said, but an affirmation of what I myself had discovered and now put out to the world as my stance. I felt that in a new way I knew what it was to know. The process of getting there had tried my soul and, I think, purified it by making me constantly reexamine my assumptions, even my values, and putting me through the painful process of reassessing them. It had shaped me up by forcing me into a physical and psychological discipline I had never known before to such a degree. I have to take issue with Saint Paul. Knowledge, he said, puffs one up.That is not my experience. The dissertation revealed to me how little I knew and how very much I did not know—and would never know. In the process of writing it, I soon came to realize that I had to humble myself to ask great scholars what I knew were naive questions. The questions were naive because I did not know enough to ask any other kind. I soon came to realize that good scholarship perforce takes scholars into unknown territories, which they enter, if they have any sense, with fear and trembling and with the sure presentiment that they will soon have to cry out desperately for help. We get no place in scholarship without one another. Why have I—or now let me say, why do we stick it out? The short answer is because, despite the costs, we enjoy it. Learning is fun. As is often said, it’s great to get paid for pursuing your hobby. But there’s something more involved than the thrill of eureka. There is for us historians the satisfaction of getting some glimmer as to how the world we know got to be the way it is. And then there is the satisfaction of helping others get some glimmer of how we got to be the way we are. That last is an aspect of our life of learning I have not yet mentioned, yet for most of us it is the part that takes up most of our time and energy and perhaps gives us most satisfaction. I mean teaching. In the classroom and outside 588 MY LIFE OF LEARNING the classroom we see students light up, and we light up with them.The experience satisfies our souls. Teaching, we realize, is broader than the subject we teach and the purveying of intellectual comprehension. When we enter the classroom we realize we are dealing with minds and hearts, sometimes with neuroses and psychoses, but always with human beings who are in front of us because they believe we have something to give them . . . and maybe something more than a passing grade. Our first task of course is to teach the discipline, which day-to-day is pretty low-down, as for instance how the Saint Bartholomew’s Day Massacre happened, or what’s special about Shakespeare’s sonnets. That’s crucially important, but we know from study after study that that is not what most of them will remember even six months later. There is therefore something deeper and further that we try to communicate, which is surely specifically different for each discipline. In almost every case, though, it boils down to something like being able to recognize evidence, learning methods for organizing and testing it, and acquiring similar skills that are pertinent beyond the course and even beyond the classroom.We are trying to impart useful skills and beyond that to spark little mental or even spiritual transformations that will stick for a lifetime and make their lives more satisfying. There is more. We know that we are in the classroom, even more impressively than is our discipline. Students will probably remember the former longer and more vividly than they do the latter, and the former may have more profound impact on them. My litany, in its most severely abbreviated form, goes something like this: Myron Gilmore, Heiko Oberman, Giles Constable, Paul Oskar Kristeller, Helen North, Father Young, Miss Funari, Mr. Kerr. Students see in us what the discipline means on a human plane and, indeed, what effect a life of learning has had on us as human beings. In a few minutes, they figure out our style—fair, kind, honest, selflessly concerned for the good of the students—something like that, we hope. My point: our life of learning, when taken in its full amplitude, is a life that takes us beyond learning and, indeed, beyond ourselves. It takes us into hearts and minds and souls. It is a vocation that is worth dedicating one’s life to. REVIEW ESSAY ENGLISH CATHOLICISM UNDER MARY TUDOR BY COLIN ARMSTRONG Reforming Catholicism in the England of Mary Tudor: The Achievement of Friar Bartolomé Carranza. Edited by John Edwards and Ronald Truman. (Brookfield, Vermont: Ashgate Publishing Company. 2005. Pp. xx, 235. $94.95.) The Church of Mary Tudor. Edited by Eamon Duffy and David Loades. (Brookfield, Vermont: Ashgate Publishing Company. 2006. Pp. xxxi, 348. $99.99.) The reign of Mary Tudor remains the Cinderella subject of early modern English history; England’s last Catholic Queen regnant, the “Bloody Mary” of popular opprobrium, has been neglected as much as she has been traduced. There has been but one comprehensive scholarly treatment of her reign in modern times, and but one thorough academic biography (both of them by David Loades). Mary’s Church has suffered as much as any other aspect of her reign from this neglect. The appearance of two scholarly symposia dealing with various aspects of Marian Catholicism is therefore much to be welcomed. These two volumes complement each other, and at times overlap; indeed, they share a number of contributors—Professor David Loades, Professor Thomas F. Mayer, Dr. John Edwards, Dr. Lucy Wooding, and Father William Wizeman appear in both. With the other contributors including Father José Ignacio Tellechea Idígoras, Father Dermot Fenlon, Dr. Ronald Truman, Dr. C. S. Knighton, Professor Ralph Houlbrooke, and Professor Eamon Duffy, these volumes gather for the most part a formidable force of scholarship. There can be little doubt that Reforming Catholicism in the Reign of Mary Tudor and The Church of Mary Tudor are considerable works both individually and together, and are the best accounts we possess of Catholicism in Queen Mary’s reign. It should be stressed that in general they offer a positive view of their subject. Their broad approach takes to a further stage the ‘Revisionist’ school of Reformation history which has endeavored to draw attention to the social and intellectual vigor of English Catholicism in the first half of the sixteenth century. Professor Mayer, the leading modern biographer of Cardinal Reginald Pole, Mary’s Archbishop of Canterbury, is unambiguous in the title of his essay in 589 590 ENGLISH CATHOLICISM UNDER MARY TUDOR The Church of Mary Tudor:“The success of Cardinal Pole’s final legation.” He calls his proposition that Pole succeeded “counterintuitive” (p. 149). It may be doubted whether he proves that Pole succeeded, but he certainly demonstrates that Pole received a high number of appeals as Legate. He has found that 315 were submitted (as against a previously calculated total of 45), and concludes (p. 174) that by the end of the Queen’s reign—Pole and Mary died almost simultaneously—“a good deal had been done and an administrative and legal framework put in place that would have allowed a good deal more. . . .” Professor Duffy in his “Cardinal Pole preaching: St Andrew’s Day 1557” (again in The Church of Mary Tudor) acquits Pole of the faults sometimes imputed to him: inattention to preaching and a lack of realism. Concerning the challenges facing the Marian Church (p. 200), Associate Professor Gary G. Gibbs (once again in the collection edited by Professors Duffy and Loades) notes how the chronicler Henry Machyn composed “frequently positive and celebratory representations of the reign” (p. 296). Not all of the contributions to the two volumes are of equal merit and some contain considerable deficiencies; others are thoroughly vitiated by the approach taken by their authors. The faults to be found in some essays must be dealt with before the stronger articles are considered. Professor Patrick Collinson’s essay in The Church of Mary Tudor,“The persecution in Kent,” is characteristically opaque and mannered. It is of some interest that Professor Collinson notes that even though Kent saw more executions of Protestant martyrs than any other region outside London (p. 310), Protestantism was not the dominant religious force in the county in Mary’s reign (p. 316). It is unfortunate that Professor Collinson twice refers to the executions in Kent, which numbered at most sixty-seven (pp. 310-311), as a “holocaust;” the use of a term properly applied to the extermination of six million European Jews in this context is inappropriate if not indeed insensitive. Other contributors display a poor command of the theological problems which exercised early modern Catholicism. Professor Loades’s statement in his essay in The Church of Mary Tudor on “The personal religion of Mary I” contains the following baffling statement concerning Mary’s Bishop of Winchester and Lord Chancellor Stephen Gardiner:“Gardiner was a lawyer, not a theologian, and whereas he could find arguments to justify the royal supremacy, he could find none to attack such fundamentals as transubstantiation” (p. 27). Professor Loades is rather at sea here: Gardiner was both theologian and lawyer—perhaps the most distinguished English Catholic theologian between Fisher and Harding; and far from wanting and failing to attack transubstantiation (as Professor Loades appears to believe to have been the case), he was a redoubtable advocate of that doctrine. In his essay on “The Marian Episcopate” in the same volume, Professor Loades claims that Cuthbert Tunstall, the Bishop of Durham, published nothing during Mary’s reign (p. 49); in fact he published two books during that period.Writing of “The English Church during the reign of Mary Tudor” in Reforming Catholicism in the Reign of Mary Tudor, BY COLIN ARMSTRONG 591 Professor Loades blunders again on the subject of eucharistic doctrine: “the question remains why a Church which was in many respects so Humanist and flexible in its pastoral and theological ministry should have insisted on defining itself by a crude interpretation of transubstantiation about which many of its own leaders had reservations” (p. 45). No senior Marian churchman is known to have had serious reservations on the subject of transubstantiation; the interpretation of the doctrine they espoused was hardly crude; and humanist scholarship and scholastic theology were perfectly compatible. Nor is it true (as Professor Loades asserts in the same essay) that Gardiner “did not take Protestantism seriously as a religious movement” (p. 37). Gardiner’s numerous anti-Protestant polemical works should prove the opposite of this proposition. Professor Claire Cross in her essay in The Church of Mary Tudor on “The English Universities, 1553-58,” underestimates the strength of opposition at Cambridge during the reign of Mary’s predecessor Edward to the teaching of the Protestant Reformer and Regius Professor of Divinity, Martin Bucer (p. 60). She is, however, correct in arguing that the shortness of Mary’s reign “constituted the primary reason for Mary’s failure to secure a permanent restoration of Catholic scholarship at Oxford and Cambridge” (p. 76). The weakest contributor of all appears in both volumes. Dr.Wooding is the author of a much-read and highly controversial work on early modern Catholic theology, Rethinking Catholicism in Reformation England (Oxford, 2000). Since both her essays are closely linked to the earlier book it is most regrettable that Dr.Wooding has failed properly to take into account the criticism of the basic approach of her work, in particular those made by this reviewer in his article “English Catholicism Rethought?,” which appeared in the Journal of Ecclesiastical History (54 [2003], 714-728) in time for her to make some response—something she has neglected in fact to do. The first of Dr. Wooding’s two articles is “The Marian Restoration and the Language of Catholic Reform”in Reforming Catholicism in the Reign of Mary Tudor. Her argument is that the reformist rhetoric of Mary’s reign “was progressive while remaining Catholic” (p. 51) and she concludes,“If Mary did not discover the Counter-Reformation, it was in large part because she was still pursuing the Henrician Reformation” (p. 64). This is to ignore the most fundamental difference between the religious policies of Mary and her father: he broke with Rome and she restored the link. This essay has other faults: her claim that Bishop Bonner’s Marian formulary Profitable and Necessary Doctryne (1555) was based on Henry’s King’s Book of 1543 is true only in part. In fact the differences between the two books are marked as this reviewer has already observed elsewhere (“English Catholicism Rethought?,” p. 721). Her claim that Richard Smyth was anti-scholastic (pp. 63-64) misrepresents that theologian. Dr. Wooding’s “The Marian Restoration and the Mass” in The Church of Mary Tudor is also remarkable for its faults. She notes the incorporation of some Edwardian Homilies into the volume of sermons issued by Bonner in 1555; again she has failed to observe the differences between the 592 ENGLISH CATHOLICISM UNDER MARY TUDOR two collections (for which see “English Catholicism Rethought?,” pp. 721-722). Her claim that Thomas Watson hardly gave the papacy a central position (p. 239) is undermined by the passage she herself cites, which refers to the pope as the successor of St. Peter to whom Christ “did comyte the cure and chargye of his universall churche throughout the worlde.” She is also wrong in thinking Watson anti-scholastic (pp. 245-246). She writes that Marian theologians tended to dwell more on the real presence than transubstantiation (p. 253); but she is wrong in thinking that this was because the real presence was thought to have “far greater reformist credentials”; it was the case that one doctrine was logically prior to the other. It is especially unfortunate for Dr. Wooding that many of her views are undermined implicitly or explicitly by some of her fellow contributors. Professor Mayer in his essay in Reforming Catholicism in the Reign of Mary Tudor, on “Cardinal Pole’s concept of Reformatio: the Reformatio Angliae and Bartolomé Carranza,” has a more sophisticated concept of the early modern Catholic idea of reform than she does; for Pole the purpose of Trent was Reformatio (p. 67) (Wooding’s ideas of reformism are narrowly Anglocentric). Father Fenlon in the same collection writes of “Pole, Carranza and the Pulpit”; he notes that Pole’s Reformatio Angliae “became in the closing stages of the Council of Trent, the point of departure for the worldwide provision of a vocationally motivated clergy” (p. 97). Father Wizeman’s article, “The Pope, the saints and the dead: uniformity of doctrine in Carranza’s catechism and the printed works of the Marian theologians” which appears also in Reforming Catholicism in the Reign of Mary Tudor, argues (pace Wooding) that Marian theologians had a highly positive view of the papal role (pp. 116-123). Dr. Andrew Hegarty’s “Carranza and the English Universities” demonstrates the importance of scholasticism in Marian theological teaching (pp. 157-158, 166, 169, 172) and argues for the long-term influence of the Spanish Dominicans de Soto and Villagarcía. Professor Duffy in his contribution to The Church of Mary Tudor notes the importance of papal authority to Pole and other Marian writers (pp. 191-192). In the same symposium Father Wizeman writes of “The Theology and Spirituality of a Marian Bishop: the pastoral and polemical sermons of Thomas Watson.” He observes the importance to Watson of scholastic theology and the papacy—again pace Wooding. He also notes that (in contrast to Wooding’s Anglocentrism) Watson made use of Trent (p. 270). He concludes (p. 279) that Watson’s “theology and spirituality were significant because they were nothing new” (a comment which is less dismissive than it may appear). The other essays not already referred to deserve mention. First those in Reforming Catholicism in the Reign of Mary Tudor will be noted. Dr. John Edwards’ introduction to the volume and Father Tellechea Idígoras’s essay “Fra Bartolomé Carranza: a Spanish Dominican in the England of Mary Tudor” are useful outlines of the Spaniard’s career. Patrick Preston provides a workmanlike account of “Carranza and Catharinus in the controversy over the bishop’s obligation of residence, 1546-52.” Dr. Edwards gives a detailed insight into the BY COLIN ARMSTRONG 593 subject of the eucharist in his “Corpus Christi at Kingston upon Thames: Bartolomé Carranza and the eucharist in Marian England.” In his “The Ghostly after-life of Bartolomé Carranza,” Dr. Anthony Wright deals with the archbishop’s posthumous influence. The final essay in the collection, Dr. Truman’s “Pedro Salazar de Mendoza and the first biography of Carranza” considers Carranza’s reputation in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The essays in The Church of Mary Tudor not already mentioned comprise Dr. C. S. Knighton’s “Westminster Abbey Restored,” which considers the Benedictine restoration at the abbey; Professor Houlbrooke’s “The clergy, the church courts and the Marian Restoration in Norwich,” which argues that a striking feature of the Marian Restoration “was the submission of the foremost Protestants active in the city during Edward’s reign. This was by any reckoning a notable success for the diocesan authorities” (p. 143). In “Spanish Religious Influences in Marian England” Dr. Edwards considers the much-neglected subject of the influence of Carranza and his colleagues. Some other factual mistakes are worth noting. In his introduction to Reforming Catholicism in the Reign of Mary Tudor, Dr. Edwards writes of Lord William Paget (p. 3); Lord Paget is the correct form. In his essay in the same volume Professor Loades writes of William Campion (p. 35); this must be a mistake for Edmund Campion. In her article in the same collection Dr. Wooding cites her own book incorrectly (p. 49): it is Rethinking Catholicism in Reformation England, not “Rethinking Catholicism in Marian England.” Dr.Wooding is incorrect in her assertion (p. 61) that three alleged supporters of papal supremacy were burned by Henry VIII in July 1540; the three men in question, Thomas Abell, Richard Fetherstone, and Edward Powell, were indeed executed but not by burning; they were rather hanged, drawn, and quartered. The sole religious conservative burned by Henry—as opposed to execution by some other means—was in fact the friar John Forest. In their introduction to The Church of Mary Tudor the editors give a wrong place and date of publication for Professor Mayer’s biography of Pole (p. xx); it should be Cambridge, 2000, not Yale, 2002. In her essay in the same work Professor Cross writes of Thomas Barnes (p. 59); this should be Robert Barnes. As has already been suggested, the quality and importance of the essays in these collections are uneven but together their contribution to our understanding of the Marian Church must not be underestimated; and some contributors, most especially Professor Mayer, Father Wizeman, Dr. Hegarty, and Professor Duffy have written essays of outstanding quality. It is unfortunate that some essays have advanced our understanding not at all. The Marian Church, however, awaits its definitive history. Belfast, Northern Ireland REVIEW ESSAY LAICIZATION AND ITS DISCONTENTS IN EARLY TWENTIETH-CENTURY FRANCE BY RICHARD FRANCIS CRANE Le Grand Exil des congrégations religieuses françaises, 1901-1914: Colloque international de Lyon Université Jean-Moulin-Lyon-III 12-13 juin 2003. Edited by Patrick Cabanel and Jean-Dominique Durand. (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf. 2005. Pp. 489. €59 paperback.) Les paroisses parisiennes devant la Séparation des Églises et de l’État, 1901-1908. By Jacques Sévenet. (Paris: Letouzey & Ané. 2005. Pp. 316. €31 paperback.) In the first decade of the twentieth century, the position of the Catholic Church in France underwent dramatic and lasting changes. Renewing the drive for laicization begun in the 1880’s, the Third Republic enacted a series of laws abolishing the vast majority of religious congregations and ending the Napoleonic Concordat which had both privileged and constrained the Catholic Church within France for a century. The legislation included the law of July 2, 1901, which legally recognized associations but closed the establishments of non-authorized religious congregations; the law of July 7, 1904, which effectively barred the remaining congregations from teaching; and the Law of Separation on December 9,1905 abrogating the Concordat, which terminated clerical salaries and subjected the state-owned Catholic churches throughout France to compulsory inventories. Although only two of the thousands of protestors were killed in the sporadic clashes that erupted in early 1906 during the inventaires, the spectacle of les deux France, most recently evoked during the bitter, protracted Dreyfus Affair, reinforced itself as an image of a modern French nation at war with itself. While historians have avoided taking at face value the simplistic trope of “two Frances,” one cannot deny the enduring presence and volatile power of this concept in French national discourse in the early part of the century. The moderate premier René Waldeck-Rousseau overreached himself on the rostrum at the time, throwing before the crowds such shibboleths such as the milliard (referring to the alleged wealth of the congregations) and les deux jeunesses. As the 1902 election results materialized, Waldeck-Rousseau faced figures indicating a leftward shift in the Chamber *Dr. Crane is a Professor of History, Greensboro College. 594 BY RICHARD FRANCIS CRANE 595 favoring Radicals and Radical-Socialists. “Il sont trops,” he said, as his majority escaped him. “Opportunist” premiers had long balanced rhetorical anticlericalism and limited social reforms, but the ex-seminarian Emile Combes’ more sincerely aggressive reading of la laïcité proved crucial in the final escalation of the anticlerical campaign. Any representation of a France divided in two therefore has to coexist with a narrative explanation of how shifting coalitions, changing perceptions, and unforeseen consequences shaped the national debate over the future of church-state relations. Two new books, joining an overdue handful of studies marking the centennial of the anticlerical legislation of 1901-1905, promise to advance scholarly reflection on the contemporary complexities and long-term impact of what the author of the preface to one of these books calls the “veritable psychodrama” of the times. In Le Grand Exil des congrégations religieuses françaises, Patrick Cabanel and Jean-Dominique Durand gather twenty-five contributions from a 2003 conference. Dealing with legislation, expulsions, and places of exile, the book devotes approximately half its pages to the third subtopic. The international thrust of this collection is reflected in the diverse locations of the scholars involved, mostly French, but also others from Belgium, Spain, Italy, Switzerland, Israel, Canada, and the United States. It is clear from the outset that a global approach will come to bear as an overarching theme throughout the book, as indicated in Cabanel’s introduction. Le Grand Exil’s articles range in length from ten to twenty-nine pages, and include both works of sometimes impressionistic synthesis and archival studies occasionally offering statistical tables. The first chapter deals with the laws of 1901 and 1904, complementing and expanding upon another colloque collection, edited by Jacqueline Lalouette and Jean-Pierre Machelon, Les congrégations hors la loi? Autour de la loi du 1er juillet 1901 (Paris, 2002). Le Grand exil extends beyond 1901, and further contextualizes the drama of 1901-1914 in the light of historical forces traceable back to the eighteenth century. In this last regard Bernard Hours furnishes a longitudinal analysis of previous expulsions of religious orders from France, beginning with the Jesuits in 1764. From the French Revolutionary era through the maturation of the Third Republic in the 1880’s, waves of suppression of various congregations gave way to periods not only of recovery but vitality and expansion. An efflorescence particularly of female religious provided a continuing pool of primary and secondary school teachers and other publicly visible contradictions to the republican vision (or visions) of laïcité. Given that members of female orders in France vastly outnumbered their male counterparts—128,000 to 30,000 in 1901—most of the articles that follow Hours’ give some attention to the religieuses pictured on the cover of the book. Bernard Delpal points out how the teaching congregations, especially females ones, undercut their own survival potential by the alacrity with which they requested authorization: “The number of requests submitted by the women was greater than the number of establishments known to the state authorities” (p. 70). In Chapter II, dealing with implementation of the legislation, Sarah Curtis demonstrates clearly how public protests—typically dominated by lay 596 LAICIZATION AND ITS DISCONTENTS IN EARLY TWENTIETH-CENTURY FRANCE women—used the republican language of rights to confront state power. Far from exhibiting the expected reactionary impulses, these “demonstrators had assimilated revolutionary and republican concepts” and had adapted “the rhetoric of the anticlericals and republicans to their own sentiments” (p. 173). The idea of exile, indeed the very word itself, receives attention and prompts some debate within these pages, as some authors emphasize that the members of the congregations were not forced to distance themselves from France per se, but chose to leave the country if they insisted on remaining in a now illegal order. André Lanfrey, however, expands the concept of exile to include an interior mode, namely the pro forma secularization undergone by those who chose neither expatriation nor an abandonment of religious life. Lanfrey further asserts that the congregations, resting outside of episcopal jurisdiction, suffered both from the attentions of the pouvoirs publics and the indifference, if not the resentment, of other parts of the Catholic Church in France, arguing “that the State was able to easily destroy the congregations because large sectors of the Catholic world were for all practical purposes its allies” (p. 194). Lanfrey has written elsewhere about the guerre scolaire that followed the 1901 and 1904 laws, and how the episcopate took control of Catholic schools as the teaching orders officially dispersed. This global diaspora, and not the guerre scolaire, forms the third through fifth chapters of Le Grand Exil, with articles devoted to espaces de l’exil. Neighboring countries differed in their domestic politics. Also, local Catholic clergy varied in their level of welcome for the French. Generally, French religious orders found a better reception where facilities were available and when they brought their own, i.e., French, students. Two national examples serve to elaborate. François Python points to the legacy of Switzerland’s 1870’s Kulturkampf to explain the hostility that greeted French religious exiles, but illustrates how some sectors of Swiss officialdom accommodated them, in one case, actively recruiting hundreds of qualified nuns and monks to save the foundering University of Fribourg, particularly its medical school and hospital. Sofie Leplae discusses how a Belgian government more or less “homogeneously Catholic” feared that the arrival of French clergy en masse would put “oil on the fire” (p. 252) by uniting liberals and socialists in an anticlerical coalition. Exile in North America presented less political hurdles, but constituted a more likely permanent rupture with the homeland. Guy Laperrière finds that in Québec members of French religious orders projected an alternate view of France, and rather than dwelling on current politics, extolled “the Catholic France of Clovis, of Saints Louis and Joan of Arc” (p. 277). Thomas Kselman describes how orders such as the Congregation of the Holy Cross played a constructive role both in Catholic education and in mediating cultural differences among various Catholic ethnic groups in the United States. Latin America and the Caribbean presented special challenges for the exiled orders, be they governmental obstruction in parts of South America or the grinding poverty in Haiti that prevented French missions from Guadeloupe (itself affected by the BY RICHARD FRANCIS CRANE 597 anticlerical laws) from establishing schools on a permanent basis. And in North Africa and the Middle East, the predominance of Islam, the troubles of the late Ottoman Empire, and Great Power rivalries all made the activities of French religious orders controversial and precarious. Ironically, the Third Republic continued to support Catholic missions overseas, given their acknowledged contribution to France’s mission civilisatrice, while hounding thousands of monks and nuns from the metropole. This is not to say that laicization did not have its adherents in the Empire, but Léon Gambetta’s dictum a generation earlier that “anticlericalism is not an item for export” still held true in the early 1900’s. Even so, a lack of home bases and the reconciling (and repatriating) effect of the wartime Union Sacrée eventually depleted the missions and reduced France’s overseas influence, a point made most convincingly in Dominique Trimbur’s article on Palestine. Three essays conclude the book. Jean Baubérot questions the “quasi-identification between the anti-congregationist struggle and the Separation”(p. 417), for while many anticlericals sought a conclusive break between the Republic and the Catholic Church, not all did so, some even fearing a resurgent Catholicism freed from state tutelage. Moreover, the expulsion of congregations, leaving the rest of the Catholic Church in France intact, and regulated by the Concordat, might have led to another kind of separation: that of the French Catholic Church from Rome, and its nationalization “according to the Anglican model” (p. 420). Andrea Riccardi emphasizes how in some ways the anticlerical offensive targeted not a declining institution but a rising one, describing a resurgent post-1815 Catholicism “more and more oriented to this fundamental intuition of ‘movement’”(p. 478). Finally Durand poses the question of how the struggle of the les Deux France presented republicans with the pitfalls of suppressing religious liberties in the name of political freedom. He suggests that the restraint shown by interior ministers Aristide Briand in 1906-07 and Louis Malvy in 1914 in applying the anticlerical laws “tends to confirm that those republicans who certainly could not be suspected of clericalism had taken consciousness of the consequences, if not disastrous, at least very negative, of so aggressive a policy” (p. 446). Le Grand Exil thus takes a multifaceted approach to the history of the 1901 and 1904 laws, arriving at detailed conclusions and posing further questions. The book also contains English-language summaries of each article, though most of these are awkwardly and problematically translated. That minor quibble aside, Cabanet and Durand offer a valuable collection, which, along with the Lalouette and Machelon volume noted above, as well as Christian Sorrell’s La République contre les congrégations (Paris, 2003), serves to enrich our understanding of an understudied subject. The 1905 Law of Separation has received far more attention than the earlier laws, both because of its apparently conclusive severing of church-state ties in modern France, and because of the public spectacle of the forced opening of Catholic churches by the public authorities. Jacques Sévenet’s book Les paroisses parisiennes devant la Séparation des Églises et de l’État, originally 598 LAICIZATION AND ITS DISCONTENTS IN EARLY TWENTIETH-CENTURY FRANCE a doctoral dissertation, traces the responses of the Paris Catholic community to the challenges of the Separation, with special emphasis on, and empathy for, the priests of Paris’ seventy parishes. Based on extensive archival research, Les paroisses parisiennes occupies a unique vantage point and clarifies or modifies a number of generalizations about church-state relations during this period. The author begins with a structural analysis of the religious geography of Paris, and introduces its archbishop. Like the other bishops of France, Cardinal François Richard had been nominated by the state, in accordance with the Concordat. Ostensibly, the government paid clerical salaries and otherwise fiscally supported the religion of “the majority of Frenchmen,” but in reality the budget des cultes defrayed only some ecclesial expenses. By 1905, the Paris diocese received 512,576 francs in annual state subsidies, to be added into a general budget of about six million francs, so “contrary to what went on in the provinces, the great majority of priests received neither salary nor pension from the ministère du culte”(p. 25). But the episcopate by and large clung to the Concordat and the official recognition it afforded, defending the state subsidy as recompense, however partial and insufficient, for the dispossession of church properties during the Revolution. Richard and others feared that with the end of the Concordat, these properties, officially state-owned, would fall into the hands of lay-dominated (and not necessarily fully Catholic) associations cultuelles. The promulgation of the 1905 law brought these and other apprehensions to the fore. Sévenet highlights the role played by parish priests such as Roger Soulange-Bodin, who refused to recognize the legitimacy of the Separation but even so acknowledged “the boost that this gave to the Catholic Church in terms of closing up the ranks and revitalizing evangelization” (p. 73). Reinvigorating the Church’s approach to the urban masses correlated with the emerging force of social Catholicism, and offered an alternative to the intransigence that led many Catholics to subscribe to the monarchist and antiSemitic Action Française. Sévenet takes pains to explain the nuanced attitudes on both sides of the Separation debate, pointing to a variety of positions taken by the anticlerical but not necessarily antireligious proponents of the law. Given the fluidity of opinions, stances, and alliances, the Separation must be seen as a live issue, not a “closed chapter in the long history of the relations between the Churches and the State” (p. 117). The inventaires, for example, exhibited the reworking, not the end, of this relationship. Aside from formalized protests, almost all curés allowed the state representatives to enter churches that were often surrounded by crowds of angry parishioners. Sévenet has only found five cases of “violent refusal”(p. 158), and mob violence constituted as much a threat to the clergy’s control of the faithful as to the government’s need to preserve order. The questionable future of French Catholicism had less to do with properties and stipends than with the undercutting of its residual claim to be the religion of the “majority of Frenchmen.”The suppression of the budget des cultes BY RICHARD FRANCIS CRANE 599 in turn reflected the removal of a symbol that “legitimized the social role of the priest” (p. 180). But for Sévenet, this disrobing of the clergy had the salutary effect of lifting “the veil on what was in the process of becoming the dechristianization of Paris” (p. 244), leading the Church, beginning with parish priests, “to another vision of evangelization” surpassing “a role of sacramental functionary” and ministering to “another public” (p. 245). Arguably, the high tide of anticlericalism under Combes gave the libres penseurs their victory but led to a loss of control over the Catholic Church in France, rendering a so-called pacte laïque both a fact of life and something that never quite “gelled”(p. 254). In 1906 Pope Pius X condemned both the unilateral Separation (Vehementer Nos) and the prospective associations cultuelles (Gravissimo Officii Munere). According to Sévenet, papal defensiveness set the stage for the next crisis within Catholicism, involving Modernism. But the impasse in implementing the 1905 law also presented a problem to the civil power, with pragmatic republicans such as Briand feeling the pressure to make the law more flexible; hence they enacted the January 1907 law in effect allowing the Catholic hierarchy to administer Church properties without recourse to the associations cultuelles. So, far from resolving the question of the role of religion in the public sphere once and for all, France’s politicians embarked on a journey that still has not reached its term, to judge by the tortuously titled Loi n° 2004-228 du 15 mars 2004 encadrant, en application du principe de laïcité, le port de signes ou de tenues manifestant une appartenance religieuse dans les écoles, collèges et lycées publics. Les paroisses parisiennes is a thoroughly researched and at times quite insightful study, appropriately modest in its claims to speak for religious and political changes in all France, but always keeping in mind the centrality of Paris for the rest of the country. Sévenet underlines the complexity and diversity of both “sides” in the conflict, even as he focuses on the Catholic Church and its Parisian clergy. Especially in his analysis of how the Separation helped transform vocations, one sees an implicit anticipation of the changes wrought in the mid-century “worker-priest” experiment and the more lasting reforms of the Second Vatican Council. Arguably, the author’s judgment that the Separation gave the Catholic Church in France a “new dynamism,” by confronting its priests with “the necessity of nourishing and deepening the act of Trinitarian faith in the face of a world in open evolution, in which Christians must live and witness” (pp. 267-268), evokes the heady atmosphere of Vatican II as much as it does the first decade of the twentieth century. Given that Sévenet was ordained a priest of the Paris diocese in 1964, such language is understandable, and in this case welcome, as a sign of one historian’s participatory relationship with a subject—the interplay between religion and politics in a pluralistic society—still very much alive today in France and other western democracies. His book joins Le Grand Exil and the others noted above in making a worthy contribution to a timely debate. BOOK REVIEWS General and Miscellaneous Reforming the Church before Modernity: Patterns, Problems, and Approaches. Edited by Christopher M. Bellitto and Louis I. Hamilton. [Church, Faith and Culture in the Medieval West.] (Aldershot, England and Burlington, Vermont: Ashgate Publishing Company. 2006. Pp. xxiv, 224. $94.96.) This book, the product of a conference, Ecclesia semper reformanda, held in 2002 at Fordham University in commemoration of the fortieth anniversary of the opening of the Second Vatican Council, is devoted to ecclesial reform from the late ancient to early modern worlds. Some of its authors are concerned with institutional reform, others with cultural approaches to their subject, and some are interested in the characterization of reform. Louis Hamilton introduces the book with a poorly written and not-always-precise essay, which nevertheless makes a number of shrewd historiographical observations. The book is divided into four parts, the first on “Social Change and Religious Reform.” In the first of two articles in this part, Robert A. Markus explains the implication for all subsequent history of the late antique Church’s understanding of itself as primarily mystical rather than institutional, and of reform as primarily personal. Markus’ is an essay in ambiguity, holding that, on the one hand, the Church should be judged by a standard external to itself, and on the other hand, that it should always be critical of whatever society it finds itself in. In the second article John Howe thoughtfully concentrates on recent scholarship on the eleventh century, which tends to demote such turning points as “the year 1000” in favor of centuries-long shifts and a society of great variation. Howe gives monasticism a central role in change and reform. Part II, on “The Idea of Reform and the Intellectuals,” begins with a wellinformed and substantial, if modish, article by Wayne J. Hankey on “Self and Cosmos in Becoming Deiform,” studying “Reform by Self-Knowledge from Augustine to Aquinas.” Here the argument is that the Neoplatonisms of Augustine and Aquinas have often been opposed to each other and to a modern “turn to the subject” in a way which in the case of the two medieval thinkers obscures a shared “conversion to deity” and in the case of the medieval thinkers contrasted to “the modern,” obscures commonalities. The idea that there had been many “turns to the subject” before the modern period is suggestive, but also seems equivocal. Marcia Colish emphasizes the variety of early scholastic thought about and practice of reform, and especially stresses “reform as improvement,” rather than simply as recapture of earlier practice. Colish’s excellent article is followed by a satisfying essay by John 600 BOOK REVIEWS 601 O’Malley on the differences in style and substance between the approaches to reform of Luther,Trent, and Erasmus. Rita Lizzi Testa begins Part III, on “Clerical Reform,” with “Clerical Hierarchy and Imperial Legislation in Late Antiquity,” mostly in the fourth century, and more detailed than the other essays in this book tend to be. Then Louis Hamilton examines Peter Damian’s and Bruno of Segni’s commentaries on the dedication of a church and the promotion by Bruno, first of papal authority, and then after his relations with Paschal II had soured, of a more episcopalcentered idea of authority. Giuseppe Alberigo turns to the Libellus ad Leonem X for a humanist notion of reform. Part IV examines “The Processes of Reform.” Claire Sotinel gives a fine study of how, without much reform vocabulary, change was effected in the Church from the third century. Martha Newman subtly uses manuscripts from the 1110’s to suggest a solution to recent debate about the Charter of Charity. She compares the original charisma of the Cistercians with their later legal reality, showing how Stephen Harding’s understanding of the Benedictine Rule carried the Cistercian charisma. Susan Dinan details how, much later, the Daughters of Charity avoided claustration, in the process illustrating how one “negotiated authority” in the Tridentine Church. University of Utah, Salt Lake City GLENN W. OLSEN Six Hundred Years of Reform: Bishops and the French Church, 1190-1789. By J. Michael Hayden and Malcolm R. Greenshields. [McGill-Queen’s Studies in the History of Religion, volume 37.] (Montreal, Kingston, London, and Ithaca: McGill-Queen’s University Press. 2005. Pp. xx, 604. $80.00.) Hayden and Greenshields investigate bishop-initiated reform within the French church using synodal statutes and pastoral visitation records from the late twelfth century to the French Revolution. They bring new rigor to the exploitation of these well-known sources and propose a new chronology and a new geography of reform in France. The authors quantified the catalogue of synodal statutes compiled by André Artonne and Odette Pontal (Répertoire des statuts synodaux). This creates our first aggregated serial database revealing the frequency of promulgations covering the entire period 1190-1789. The study finds that “changes in content [in synodal statutes] appeared exactly where the analysis of volume of promulgation predicted (p. 13).” This information on the long-term evolution of promulgations is then combined with a qualitative analysis of changes in visitation questionnaires. On this basis, the authors present their view of 600 years of continuity in church reform punctuated by periods of disruption and slowdown. They argue for two 300-year cycles (1190-1489 and 1490-1789), characterized by enough consistency of aim (purification and universalization of doc- 602 BOOK REVIEWS trine and practice) to constitute “a continuous reality in the history of Christianity” (p. 7). Within these cycles, they emphasize a “First Catholic Reformation,” at its height from the 1490’s to 1560, and a “Second Catholic Reformation,” at its height from the 1640’s through the 1690’s, with two distinct phases: 1590-1689 and 1690-1789. The interpretation of their data is shaped at least in part by their critique of the vogue of “discontinuity” as a world-view and more importantly by their desire to lay to rest the Protestant monopoly of the term Reformation. This work is most useful in remedying critical problems of method, chronology, and geography in the existing standard treatments of visitation records provided in the CNRS Répertoire des visites pastorales and the Atlas de la réforme pastorale en France de 1550 à 1790 by the FroeschléChopards. They revise the ecclesiastical geography of the CNRS studies, creating two consistent geographic areas for comparison: an “ecclesiastical France” of sixteen dioceses where the French king had the right to make episcopal appointments and a “border lands.“ This clarifies the role of French kings in appointing “reform-minded” bishops in distinct periods and shows the role of limiting factors such as the Thirty Years’War in border areas. The authors also usefully identify “cohorts of reforming bishops” for whom collective biographies and prosopgraphical studies are needed (p. 110). Problems arise, however, if one wishes to use the authors’ sources to discuss broader questions of reform within the French Church and within the larger society. The reform they document is in part an administrative procedure perilously akin, at times, to modernization theory in the cadre of the developing nation-state. Complex factors shaping reception and the desire and ability to “purify” and “systematize” religious practice do not really enter into consideration.Why, for example, should systematization constitute “reform” in an earlier period but become mere “bureaucratization” and “routinization” in the later period ? The bulk of this work is given over to appendices which present their data and to a methodological essay, intended to be read either on its own or following the text. This material explains the difficulties in applying the CNRS data to the problem of the long-term evolution of reform within the French church. This is essential reading for historians who plan to work with these particular sources and for researchers who wish to develop methodological strategies for coping with asymmetrical and missing data. Specialists in the history of pre-modern Catholicism will not be surprised by the chronology presented here, but they might become more attentive to the daunting problem of developing probative global indicators of reform. Esopus, New York ANN W. RAMSEY BOOK REVIEWS 603 The Sheed and Ward Anthology of Catholic Philosophy. Edited by James C. Swindal and Harry J. Gensler, S.J. (Lanham, Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group. 2005. Pp. xvi, 585. $90.00 clothbound; $35.00 paperback.) In a foreword to a volume honoring the British philosophers Peter Geach and Elizabeth Anscombe (Moral Truth and Moral Tradition [1994]), Cardinal Daly of Armagh, himself a philosopher, writes,“They have demonstrated that there is a Catholic way of philosophizing, which is still wholly philosophical, at once totally faithful to the laws of reason and the norms of philosophy and to the rigorous demands of logic, and also uncompromisingly loyal to divine Revelation and the teaching of the Catholic Church.They have shown that one can be intellectually as well as spiritually happy, indeed proud, though never arrogant, about one’s Catholic faith, while still commanding respect from one’s peers in terms of their own philosophy and language and logic.” The honrands well deserved the tribute, but it sets a high standard, and bypasses the prior question of what it means to be “a Catholic philosopher.” On one reading this suggests two attributes; on another, a single nature. Geach and Anscombe sometimes wrote on issues of no direct relevance to religion but often addressed matters of Catholic faith and morals, and they never knowingly wrote at odds with orthodoxy. That places them far toward one end of a spectrum, the terminus of which would be close to dogmatic theology itself. Running in the other direction would take one to points where philosophy and faith make no connection. The selections in the present volume, which include pieces by Geach and by Anscombe, are spread across the range. Occasionally they also reach out beyond Catholicism (e.g., Plato, Aristotle, Plotinus, Avicenna, Averroes, Maimonides), and beyond philosophy (mostly to scripture, theology, and spirituality). There are eighty-two readings ranging from a cluster of biblical passages to a useful survey of contemporary Catholic philosophy in the United States; authors from God to Arthur Madican of Boston College, respectively. For the most part the selections are well-chosen, but the quality and relevance vary as one approaches the present. It is useful for the classroom purposes for which the book is designed to have short extracts from the likes of Irenaeus, Clement, Tertullian, Origen, Augustine, Boethius, Bonaventure, Aquinas, Eckhart, Scotus, Ockham, Suarez, Gassendi, Descartes, Malebranche, Newman, Kleutgen, Blondel, Scheler, Maréchal, Maritain, Gilson, Marcel, Stein, Rahner, Lonergan, Popes Leo XIII and John Paul II, Alasdair MacIntyre, and Charles Taylor. On the other hand some inclusions are hardly merited by quality, and others seem out of place. Alfred Tarski was a great mathematical logician famed among analytical philosophers for his semantic theory of truth. This is important both in conception and in technical implementation, but the selection of a fragment whose significance is unclear is further strained by the identification of Tarski 604 BOOK REVIEWS as a Catholic philosopher. The motivation for him and his brother in 1920’s Poland to convert (from Judaism) and change their name was practical, and he was almost certainly an atheist. None of Tarski’s writings show any interest in Catholic thought. The editors pose and very briefly discuss the question, “what is Catholic philosophy?” but come to no clear conclusion. Since this is again a live issue, and one critical to the task of selecting examples, it would have been wise to address the matter more extensively and to include selections exploring it. It would also have been useful to provide a guide to further reading. As it is, we have a useful source for reference, teaching, and occasional dipping into. University of St Andrews JOHN HALDANE Les jésuites à Lyon XVI e–XX e siècles. Edited by Etienne Fouilloux and Bernard Hours. [Collection Societe, Espaces,Temps.] (Lyon: ENS editions. 2005. Pp. 274. €32.00 paperback.) The thirteen studies on Jesuit history presented here, papers given at a conference held in Lyon in September 2002, all show a high level of scholarship, offer a wealth of information drawn from extensive research, and are interestingly written, from the introduction by Bernard Hours to the conclusion by Etienne Fouilloux. Part I, consisting of five studies on “L’ancienne Compagnie,” the Society of Jesus before the Suppression in 1773, begins with Yann Lignereux’s “Une implantation difficile: controverse religieuse et polémiques politiques (15651607).”This first stage of Jesuit presence in Lyon, after a few years of tensions mainly with King Henri IV, seems to have resulted in general feelings of esteem among the Lyonnais for the Jesuits. Annie Regond’s article tells of a very gifted and famous Jesuit architect at the Collège de la Trinité, Brother Etienne Martellange. Stéphane van Damme’s insightful article,“Le corps professoral du college,” offers much information on the stress on scholarship and the way the Jesuit province of Lyon consistently devoted resources to the school. Sophie Roux offers a very interesting article on another very gifted individual Lyon Jesuit, Father Honoré Fabri (1607-1688), who in his day was well known in the field of philosophy of nature. Yves Jocteur-Montrozier’s “Des jésuites et de la bibliothèque municipale de Lyon,” is an especially valuable report on the role of the Jesuits in the building of their large, much-admired library, confiscated by the city at the Suppression. Part II,“Le temps des collèges,”moves into the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Philippe Rocher very competently traces significant developments in teaching in Jesuit education in Lyon from 1850 to 1950. Bruno Dumons, in “Jésuites lyonnais et catholicisme intransigeant,” offers an extremely interesting study of the role of a number of Jesuits in supporting and inspiring Catholics of the traditionalist, anti-liberal, anti-Third Republic viewpoint. The strongly anti- BOOK REVIEWS 605 clerical Republic outlawed Catholic schools in 1901, and Patrick Cabanel’s article tells how the Lyon Jesuits managed to re-create one of their schools in exile in Bollengo, Italy. Bernard Delpal’s study of Lyon Jesuit work in Lebanon focuses on their major printing house and their Bibliothèque Orientale in Beirut, both of which became very influential in spreading not only Catholicism but also French culture in the Near East. Both Jesuits and anti-Jesuit government officials, as he notes, wanted to advance French civilization there. In the third part,“Les défis de la modernité,” Lyon Jesuits are shown to have been prominent in some social and religious controversies. Pierre Vallin, S.J., in “Les jésuites à Lyon et la question sociale,” offers much specific information on the involvement of some Jesuits in inspiring activism for social justice from the mid-nineteenth century on. A most interesting and detailed article by Bernard Comte,“Jésuites lyonnais résistants,” tells of some thirty Jesuits of Lyon who participated in the resistance to Nazi and Vichy rule during World War II. Henri de Lubac was prominent among them. In the longest (twenty-five pages) and most timely study in the volume, Claude Prudhomme and Oissila Saaïdia tell of Lyon Jesuit work in the Near East to promote understanding of the Arab Muslim world through research in Muslim literature and history. Both the French government and the papacy from Pius IX on supported these efforts. Also most interesting is Dominique Avon’s article on the Jesuit theological school at Fourvière (Lyon) which in the 1940’s-1950’s incurred the suspicion of the Vatican. Would that there were more space here for the names (e.g., again de Lubac) and other specifics of this regrettable eve-of-Vatican Council II event. Etienne Fouilloux’s concluding essay on the French Jesuits’ progress in the last two centuries from anticlerical hostility to general esteem is full of insightful comment.This whole volume provides a wealth of specific information and very scholarly discussion of significant people and developments. RICHARD F. COSTIGAN, S.J. Loyola University of Chicago Ancient Der Ursprung des Apostolikums im Urteil der kritischen Forschung. By Markus Vinzent. [Forschungen zur Kirchen- und Dogmengeschichte, Band 89.] (Göttingen:Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. 2006. Pp. 480. €79,90.) Markus Vinzent has distinguished himself with a number of original studies of the earliest history of the Apostles’ Creed. His contribution to the threeauthor volume Tauffragen und Bekenntnis (1998), “Die Entstehung des ‘römischen Glaubensbekenntnisses’,” was hitherto the most important. To these has now been added an impressive monograph on the various views and arguments, from late antiquity into the twenty-first century, on the origin of the Apostles’ Creed. 606 BOOK REVIEWS The author has collected together an almost overwhelming amount of learned contributions, and endeavours to offer a concise evaluation of every single one.To have accomplished this is a major feat in the historiography of patristic scholarship, and Vinzent’s book will be a great help to students of the Apostles’ Creed for years to come. As a result, the reasonably reliable but totally outdated studies by Kattenbusch (1894) and De Ghellinck (1946) may now safely be laid aside. Anyone who has had to work with either or both of these will recognize the relief that at last someone has actually done what many longed to see done, but no one dared to do. Vinzent’s work is more than just bibliographical and evaluatory in nature, however. The author rightly points out that with regard to the origin of the Apostles’ Creed, various arguments appear, disappear, and reappear time and again. Nor is this remarkable, as although the Apostles’ Creed is a text that is known to practically every Christian, virtually no hard and fast data are available concerning its origin.When everything that can be studied has been studied, scholars are left with a number of choices for which they only have their intuition about what is probable and what is not to guide them. Did the Apostles’ Creed originate in a dogmatic, catechetical, or a liturgical context? What exactly is its relationship with the so-called regula fidei? Whence does the term symbolum spring? What did the ancient authors actually intend to convey when they said that the Apostles’ Creed “had always faithfully been preserved”in Rome, and were their claims justified or not? Vinzent shows in a convincing way that most of the answers to these questions that can be formulated today were already posited in the eighteenth century or even earlier, and that these answers were influenced to a large extent by the respective scholars’ own positions in the ecclesiastical questions of their times. Vinzent’s account of the history of this scholarship is particularly valuable for the period down to the first half of the twentieth century (pp. 22-266). For the subsequent period, even he seems at times to stagger under the burden of a stream of publications of very mixed standards and purposes. In the last section of the book (pp. 312-395), the author presents his own position together with the criticism that it elicited from the writer of the present review, and endeavors to take the discussion a step further. This review is not the place to enter into this discussion; suffice it to say that Vinzent offers an intelligent and straightforward summary of Westra’s arguments, and that the questions that he asks him are indeed the ones that matter. The main question that remains after perusing this invaluable contribution to creedal scholarship is this: is Vinzent right in claiming (pp. 10-11) that the current positions on the origin of the Apostles’ Creed are marked too much by reliance on “Forschungsgeschichte” rather than “Forschungsliteratur,” and if so, can this indeed be remedied by “die Quellen zu bemühen und die riesigen Anstrengungen der Älteren mit größtem Respekt und eingehendem Bemühen zur Kenntnis zu nehmen, ihre Arbeiten und Ergebnisse zu studieren und sie möglichst unter Absehung der eigenen Einsichte zunächst einmal zu verstehen BOOK REVIEWS 607 und darzulegen”(p. 20)? In my opinion, the present disagreement is less a question of which model should be followed to explain the sources (as seems to be suggested by the author in his conclusion, p. 394), but of interpretation of the relevant Greek and Latin texts, and any progression in our understanding of the origin of the Apostles’ Creed, if attainable at all, should be sought by means of textual analysis rather than historiography. Also in this respect, Vinzent’s work contains many important stimulants. Lollum, The Netherlands LIUWE H.WESTRA Wandering Monks, Virgins, and Pilgrims: Ascetic Travel in the Mediterranean World, A.D. 300-800. By Maribel Dietz. (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press. 2005. Pp. ix, 270. $50.00.) In this study, Maribel Dietz assesses the implications of travel in its various forms to European Christianity during a crucial period of social, political, and cultural change. The volume opens with a general discussion of mobility and migration within late Antiquity in which she argues rightly that models of “pilgrimage” derived from later Christian centuries do little justice to the wide variety of religious mobility evident in late Antiquity, from the peripatetic monks berated by the early monastic founders, to the penitents and religious sightseers familiar from the writings of Palladius and Rufinus. Of the subsequent chapters, two deal specifically with the Hispanic provinces—one on religious travelers from the region in the fourth and fifth centuries, the other on monasticism within the Visigothic kingdom. The remainder considers the hostility to peripatetic monks in many late antique texts, the importance of travel as a mode of religious expression for women (the highlight of the study), and finally the peculiar importance of the Holy Land pilgrimage within the Anglo-Saxon and Hibernian missionary movement of the seventh and eighth centuries. As will be apparent from this summary, the volume has an admirable breadth, both chronologically and geographically. At its best—as in the discussion of the great journeys of Helena, the two Melanias, and the anonymous Piacenza pilgrim in chapter 4—the study clearly demonstrates the role that Christian travel played in the emerging Christian Weltbild of the late Roman world. By embracing such a variety of source material, moreover, Dietz does an impressive job of illustrating the many different kinds of travel that the new faith generated. But this catholicity also has its drawbacks, and at times the study lacks a rigorous focus. At times, the author seems drawn by the idiosyncrasies of her texts, rather than by any overarching thesis. The Vitae sanctorum patrum Emeritensium, for example, has little to say on either long-distance “pilgrimage” or itinerant worship, and yet is discussed for a full seven pages (pp. 168-175). Conversely, several subjects of central importance would seem to have been neglected. Brent Shaw has convincingly deconstructed the infamous circumcelliones of North Africa as a figment of the heresiological tradition, but the very popularity of these “wandering monks” within the imagi- 608 BOOK REVIEWS nation of sedentary writers surely deserves closer investigation. Some of these issues are hinted at in the discussion of pre-Benedictine monastic law in chapter 3, but much remains unsaid. There are also one or two errors of fact within the text.The Vandal occupation of North Africa took place in the fifth century (from 428 to 439 A.D.) and not the sixth (p. 23), and Egeria’s travels may be dated to a couple of generations after the journey of the Empress Helena, not “just a generation before” as stated on page 109. These are surely simply slips of the pen, but a more serious error is apparent in the discussion of the context of the monastic rules of Fructuosus of Braga during the mid-seventh century. The suggestion at page 183 that general social instability was caused by “[t]he invasions and battles between the Germanic tribes” hardly applies to Visigothic Spain in the seventh century. Here, as elsewhere, migrating barbarians are cast as a major cause of social and religious instability—a model which owes more to the apocalyptic pronouncements of writers like Hydatius (who appears frequently in chapter 1) than to contemporary scholarship on the political and social world of the late antique period. Despite lacking a precise focus, there is much here to be commended: not least the sensitive analysis of some neglected texts. It represents a thoughtful and idiosyncratic contribution to an important field. University of Leicester A. H. MERRILLS The Manichean Debate. Introductions and notes by Roland Teske, S.J. [The Works of Saint Augustine: A Translation for the 21st Century, Part I: Books, Volume 19.] (Hyde Park, New York: New City Press. 2006. Pp. 424. $44.00.) The writings of Saint Augustine of Hippo against the Manicheans comprise the earliest of any he wrote against specific unorthodox groups. The choice is understandable, since he belonged to Mani’s religion for at least nine years. Besides, then, supplying an account of Manicheism from a firsthand perspective, we have in the treatises collected here an overview of Augustine’s theological, exegetical, and spiritual progress from 387 until at least 404. The present volume, the latest in the helpful and accessible new rendering into English of Augustine under the auspices of the Augustinian Heritage Institute, offers eight of his anti-Manichean works: The Catholic Way of Life and the Manichean Way of Life (De moribus ecclesiae catholicae et de moribus Manichaeorum), The Two Souls (De duabus animabus), A Debate with Fortunatus, a Manichean (Contra Fortunatum Manichaeum Disputatio), Answer to Adimantus, a Disciple of Mani (Contra Adimantum Manichaei discipulum), Answer to the Letter of Mani known as the Foundation (Contra epistulam Manichaei quam vocant Fundamenti), Answer to Felix, a Manichean (Contra Felicem Manichaeum), The Nature of BOOK REVIEWS 609 the Good (De natura boni), and Answer to Secundinus, a Manichean (Contra Secundinum Manichaeum). These titles do not, of course, exhaust the list of Augustine’s literary activity against Manicheans; besides the lengthy Against Faustus (to appear as a separate volume in this series), there is, for example, On Genesis: A Refutation of the Manichees (De Genesi contra Manichaeos), that recently appeared in this series. Three of the works in this volume (Answer to Adimantus, Answer to Felix, and Answer to Secundinus) are rendered here into English for the first time, and all have been translated anew. Besides the brief general introduction to the whole volume, each treatise is introduced in terms of its setting and a succinct summary of its contents. The general introduction briefly presents Manichean doctrine and Augustine’s attraction to it, and lists publications of the Latin texts and translations of the eight writings. For seven of the works, the critical edition of record is still to be had in Volume 25 of the CSEL (1891); but an important omission is J.B. Bauer’s edition of the two De moribus treatises in Volume 90 of the same series (1992). Teske’s translations do not slavishly follow the Latin of the critical edition; he sometimes chooses the reading of the earlier Patrologia Latina, or a variant, or even occasionally offers his own conjecture. The translations also avoid too much literalism, which makes for an easily readable (but, in my opinion, faithful) transmission of Augustine’s meaning. The notes are most often references to Augustine’s own sources (biblical and otherwise), although they sometimes contain helpful explanations as well. The volume finishes with indexes of scriptural (but not pseudepigraphical) references and topics. These are broken down according to the individual Augustinian works, a tactic that certainly aims at helping the uninitiated reader to navigate the individual treatises, but that means having to check eight different places for a word, theme, or biblical allusion. In addition, a bibliography of select modern works would be helpful. All in all, though, this volume makes for a useful collection of Augustine’s writings, crucial for appreciating Augustine’s Manichean experience and for making it known to a wider English-speaking readership. Saint Paul University, Ottawa, Canada J. KEVIN COYLE Saint Augustine and the Fall of the Soul: Beyond O’Connell and His Critics. By Ronnie J. Rombs. (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press. 2006. Pp. xxviii, 228. $64.95.) Robert J. O’Connell, S.J., was arguably the most prominent interpreter of the thought of Augustine of Hippo in the last decades of the previous century, and at the heart of his reading of Augustine’s thought was the influence of Plotinus and in particular the doctrine of the fall of the soul. Most other Augustinian scholars during this period have been either ardent fans or strong opponents of O’Connell’s interpretation, especially of his position on the fall of the soul. 610 BOOK REVIEWS In his study Rombs tries to move the world of Augustinian scholarship beyond its present state in which the two sides have become firmly entrenched. Previous scholarship has, as Rombs argues, posed the question about the fall of soul in either-or terms, that is, whether the fall is to be understood as Plotinian or non-Plotinian. Rombs’ study has two principal parts. In the first he sets out to present clearly the positions of Plotinus and of O’Connell of the fall of the soul, and he succeeds admirably in this endeavor, especially with regard to the fall of the soul in the later works of Augustine. In the second part he attempts to work out a reconciliation between O’Connell and his critics by showing where and to what extent O’Connell’s interpretation of Augustine was correct. Basically Rombs claims that O’Connell correctly interpreted the early Augustine, but was mistaken in his interpretation of the later Augustine. Key to Rombs’ position is the distinction between three senses of the fall of soul in Plotinus and in Augustine, namely, a cosmogonic, an ontological, and a moral sense of the fall. The fall is moral insofar as it is sinful. The fall is ontological insofar as it entails the soul’s individuation and composition with the body. The fall is cosmogonic insofar as it is the efficient cause of the coming to be of the lower or sensible world by giving it form. Rombs argues that all three senses of the fall are found in the early Augustine, as they were in Plotinus, and clearly shows this in Augustine’s first commentary on Genesis, De Genesi contra Manichaeos. O’Connell held that Augustine had abandoned the doctrine of the fall of the soul around 417 when he came to realize the import of Romans 9:11, but he also held that Augustine returned to a modified doctrine of the fall in his later works, such as De Genesi ad litteram and De trinitate. Rombs argues quite persuasively that O’Connell misinterpreted the later Augustine, who according to Rombs had definitely abandoned any cosmological or ontological sense of the fall, but retained much of the Plotinian language of the fall to present a psychology of sin. In the later writings, as Rombs argues, individuation and embodiment are in no sense the result of the fall, a view quite incompatible with the Christian doctrine of the goodness of creation, as Augustine came to realize. The amazing thing is that the greatest of the Western Fathers of the Church held in his early writings the fall of the soul in all three senses. Rombs’ book clarified for me O’Connell’s views and persuaded me that the bishop of Hippo did not return in his later writings to a fall understood in the ontological sense. Rombs agrees with O’Connell on the fall in the early writings, and that I suspect will be too much for many of O’Connell’s critics to swallow. Marquette University ROLAND J. TESKE, S.J. BOOK REVIEWS 611 Augustine of Hippo: Instructing Beginners in Faith. Translation, introduction, and notes by Raymond Canning. [The Augustine Series, Volume V.] (Hyde Park, New York: New City Press. 2006. Pp. 173. $13.95 paperback.) In late 403,Augustine got a letter from Deogratias, a deacon of the church in Carthage. Deogratias was in charge of instructing of new converts and had real talent: a good knowledge of Scripture and a flair for teaching. But his lectures had, by his own admission, gotten a little boring, and he was struggling with burnout. So he sought Augustine’s advice. Augustine answered with a brief, but brilliant treatise, Instructing Beginners in Faith (De catechizandis rudibus). This minor masterpiece is the latest volume translated for the “Augustine Series,” an offshoot of New City Press’s multi-volume (and generally excellent) Works of Saint Augustine. It is the first new English translation of the work since J. P. Christopher’s 1946 version in the “Ancient Christian Writers” series and the first to take advantage of the critical edition in the Corpus Christianorum. Instructing Beginners is a unique document in the surviving literature from the ancient catechumenate. No other text details so vividly that first lifealtering rite of passage from pagan inquirer to apprentice Christian. In the treatise,Augustine focuses on three matters: the types and motives of inquirers; the structure and content of the catechist’s evangelical address; and the emotional attitude of the catechist himself. Augustine notes that many converts came haunted by ominous dreams or visions. Some newcomers were highly learned and earnest, others humble and illiterate, still others haughty and half-educated, prone to judge catechists more by their rhetorical embellishments than by the character of their content. Augustine takes on problems familiar to veteran teachers. What if the person lies about his motives? Well, use a shrewd psychology:“you must make . . . the lie itself the starting point” not to unmask it, but to “bring him to the point that he actually enjoys being the kind of person that he wishes to appear” (p. 74). What if the audience starts yawning? Say something clever, humorous, or awe-inspiring. What if the person is not very bright? Well,“we should say much on his behalf to God rather than saying much to him about God” (p. 100). Ancient North African churches gave converts only a single evangelical talk before welcoming them into the catechumenate.That talk,Augustine advised, should survey salvation history, and the biblical episodes that one focuses upon should be woven together by the “golden thread” of a twofold love of God and of neighbor (p. 77). Augustine was deeply concerned about a catechist’s attitude. One needed hilaritas, “cheerfulness” (p. 88), and should approach inquirers “with a brother’s love, or a father’s or a mother’s” (p. 97). This created a sacred empathy:“when our listeners are touched by us as we speak and we are touched by them as they learn, each of us comes to dwell in the other, and so they as it were speak in us what they hear, while we in some way learn in them what we teach” (p. 97). 612 BOOK REVIEWS The volume’s translator, Raymond Canning of Australian Catholic University, provides a helpful introduction and solid notes. Following PierreMarie Hombert, Canning suggests redating the work from 400 to 403. He counters the stock view about the delay of baptism in the fifth-century Church and cites Eric Rebillard’s judgment that “there is nothing in Augustine’s preaching that justifies thought of crowds of indifferent Christians waiting until the hour of their death to be baptized” (pp. 20-21). Augustine’s highly crafted Latin, full of intricate wordplay and contrapuntal phraseology, poses great challenges for any translator. Canning favors a highly literal translation that reproduces Augustine’s fondness for the passive voice and tries to mirror his long-lined and ornamented sentence structure. This approach comes at a cost. Canning’s English has a less poetic and more abstract feel than Augustine’s original. This work should be required reading not only for pastors but also for catechists of all stripes, especially those engaged in the contemporary renewal of the catechumenate. Creighton University WILLIAM HARMLESS, S.J. Stewards of the Poor: The Man of God, Rabbula, and Hiba in Fifth-Century Edessa. Translations and introductions by Robert Doran. [Cistercian Studies Series, 208.] (Kalamazoo, Michigan: Cistercian Publications. 2006. Pp. xx, 204. Paperback.) This work provides modern English translations of five important documents that have significant hagiographical and theological value for understanding Edessa, a strategic city in the Syriac part of the Byzantine Empire. For the most part, they highlight the lives and religious attitudes of the city’s two bishops during the first half of fifth-century: Rabbula (c. 411-c. 436) and Hiba (perhaps better known as Ibas, c. 436 to 449 and 451-457). The first three works, two Syriac and a Greek version, are variations in the legendary story of an early popular ascetic known as the “Man of God.” His saintly life, even in its variants, captivated the minds of Syriac, Greek, and Latin Christians and inspired them to care for the poor as visible manifestations of Christ.This “Man of God” eventually became linked with the name of St. Alexius. The two remaining translations are the Life of Rabbula whose life as bishop was totally dedicated (if one can believe the accounts) to being a caring steward for the poor. He was also an uncompromising opponent of both Hiba and the School of Antioch’s theological approach to Christ. The final work contains the Acta of the Second Council of Ephesus (449) that records the condemnatory statements made against Hiba, his controversial letter to Mari, and the reasons why he was deposed as bishop and imprisoned. BOOK REVIEWS 613 If I may judge from the emendations that Doran offers to the Syriac text I know first-hand, his translations of the Syriac and the Greek originals can be considered close and accurate. He offers a general and then individual introductions to each work that are well researched, informative, and critical in a truly balanced way. In his commentary, Doran stresses the views of Rabbula and Hiba, especially as they confront each other regarding the religious governance of Edessa and their estimation of Theodore of Mopsuestia. Only the first version of the “Man of God”mentions Rabbula by name, but it helps to support the rather extravagant account of his Life that portrays Rabbula as a man whose energies were fully committed to caring for the poor. Rabbula’s Life reveals how sternly he ruled his diocese, supported Cyril of Alexandria and the Council of Ephesus in 431 against many of his fellow Syrian bishops, and strenuously opposed Hiba because he supported Theodore and Nestorius. The final text contains the minutes of the Second Council of Ephesus in 449 (dubbed the “Robbers’ Council”) that condemned Hiba as a heretic and an expropriator of church wealth. I have three minor observations. First, the book’s title Stewards of the Poor is ambiguous, as this is difficult to apply to Hiba in light of the commentary. Second, Hiba’s letter to Mari needs a fuller treatment, noting how Hiba insisted on having it read at Chalcedon as a sign of his orthodoxy. Since he praised Theodore there as a man of the Church, the non-Chalcedonians took this and the Antiochene wording of Chalcedon’s dogmatic formula as evidence that it was Nestorian. The emperor Justinian at Constantinople II insisted on the condemnation of Theodore and what he called the “so-called” letter of Hiba as wholly necessary if the non-Chalcedonians were to accept Chalcedon as ecumenical. Finally, the brief condemnatory statements of various ecclesiastical figures in the Acta of Ephesus II demanding Hiba’s death are too repetitious. A reader may give up, missing the major points: Hiba’s letter to Mari and the reasons for his condemnation. In brief, this is an invaluable, well researched work that makes available important fifth-century texts and a succinct depiction of what is now known of Christian Edessa. St. Louis University FREDERICK G. MCLEOD, S.J. A Greek Roman Empire: Power and Belief under Theodosius II (408-450). By Fergus Millar. [Sather Classical Lectures, 64;The Joan Palevsky Imprint in Classical Literature.] (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press. 2006. Pp. xxvi, 279. $49.95.) Fergus Millar has had considerable influence on the way we view the Roman empire from its inception to late antiquity. In his latest book he returns to a long-standing interest, the Roman Near East. Here, as part of a larger study of its social and religious history to the sixth century, he focuses attention on 614 BOOK REVIEWS the reign of Theodosius II. Spanning the two councils of Ephesus, the lead-up to the Council of Chalcedon, and the production of the Theodosian code, the period provides Millar with rich material for an examination of how public documents can constitute a literature of self-justification and persuasion. Chapter 1 sets the stage for viewing Theodosius’ empire as one of twin empires, Greek-speaking and—writing in contrast to—its Latin twin. It details the administrative context, important literary forms (lawcodes, acts of church councils, letters), the major players in relations within and between church and state, and the extent to which Latin and Greek were employed in civil administration. Chapter 2 focuses on the eastern frontiers, public communication in both directions between center and periphery, and the role the frontiers played in imperial ideology. Chapter 3 takes up the question of lingua franca in greater detail, arguing for a facility in Latin among administrators, positing a Greek identity for those who lived in the east as a whole, while discussing the role (minimal) of local languages in public communication and persuasion.The concluding sections, on groups of religious deviants as a threat to imperial authority, leads into Chapter 4, an examination of imperial and spiritual authority in the context of church and state. The dominant theme, as the background to the various councils is explored, is how the rhetoric of persuasion, self-justification, and command operated in relation to the enforcement of imperial will. Here the contesting by church and state of each other’s boundaries, the role of heretics in the rhetoric of imperial ideology, and the introduction to the mix of independent monks are factors brought into the analysis. Chapter 5 examines the documents that relate the fates of Nestorius and his ally Irenaeus. The corpus is offered as singular evidence of “the discourse of government,” “the transmission and reception of imperial commands,” and “the functional relations of Latin and Greek within the imperial system.” Chapter 6 explores further the deployment of persuasion directed to the emperor and the role of intermediaries and written submissions (suggestiones). The book concludes with two appendices designed to help the reader to navigate the complexity of the councils’Acts. Each chapter is filled with subtle detailing and analysis of communication and persuasion in various directions and at various levels in relation to imperial response. How this was effected, who influenced it, what role civil, military, and ecclesiastical administration played in it are all questions that are answered as each chapter unfolds. In the process, a new perspective on the reign of Theodosius II and the Councils of Ephesus is carefully exposed. If there is one caveat, it lies with Millar’s occasional equation of the global use of Greek with “Greek” identity (pp. 93ff.). His thesis about the Greekness of the eastern empire in the domain of public communication at all levels of church and state obscures some important facts. Speaking and writing Greek did not preclude regional influence on cultural identity (e.g., being functionally Greek, but conceptually Syrian), nor did the propensity of bishops to write their letters in Greek preclude regular public communication by presbyters (preach- BOOK REVIEWS 615 ing) in native languages. His thesis works at the level of church and state administration and interaction. Outside of those parameters, as he would himself acknowledge, the role of Greek is less distinct. This is a book that will almost certainly become a standard reference for students of late antiquity and church history. It also contains much of interest for scholars of canonical developments, the Theodosian code, and developing relations between church and state. Australian Catholic University WENDY MAYER Sacred Images and Sacred Power in Byzantium. By Gary Vikan. [Variorum Collected Studies Series.] (Burlington, Vermont: Ashgate Publishing Co. 2003. Pp. 246.) Beginning in the late 1970’s, Gary Vikan began to publish a series of articles that fundamentally altered the way many of us understand the relationship of the sacred and its physical manifestation in objects and images. The present volume brings together fifteen papers, which appeared between 1979 and 1995 in a variety of venues, many of which scholars of the Late Antique and Byzantine periods will already know. Vikan has spent most of his career in the museum world—he is currently the director of the Walters Art Museum—and the studies have in common the author’s perceptive observations of material culture as a reflection of spiritual concerns in the Late Antique and Byzantine world. Eschewing the hermeneutical approach that has dominated much of the writing on Byzantine religious art, Vikan’s method is both common-sensical and appealing, best represented in his Study V, “Byzantine Pilgrimage Art” (1998), an updating of a booklet he prepared to accompany an exhibit at Dumbarton Oaks in 1982 (and now available on-line through Dumbarton Oaks’ web site). Indeed, many of the studies included here are devoted to pilgrimage art, and to the souvenirs pilgrims took with them from holy sites. As the author notes,“Ultimately each pilgrim was driven by the same basic conviction: namely, that the sanctity of holy people, holy objects, and holy places was somehow transferable through physical contact” (Study IX, p. 66), and many of the studies examine the role of visual imagery in the process of transfer. The approach to the Byzantine icon is similar, and in Vikan’s formulation, “Relics have helped to give birth to icons” (Study I, p. 10), and they are similarly capable of creating a sacred presence. In several studies, the Lives of St. Symeon the Elder and his namesake Symeon the Younger are brought into the discussion. Pilgrims’ souvenirs were imprinted with the image of the saint and the differences between icon and token are elided:“Therefore take this eulogia of my dust, depart,” the younger Symeon instructs a clinging pilgrim,“and when you look at the imprint of our image, it is us that you will see” (Studies I, p. 7;V, p. 247;VI, p. 381; IX, p. 73). In a tour-de-force article,“Ruminations on 616 BOOK REVIEWS Edible Icons” (Study III, 1989),Vikan moves with ease between the reproduced Byzantine image and ads from the National Enquirer for linen copies of the Shroud of Turin.“ The ad itself bears a replica of a replica, a copy of a copy,” he notes, adding that the devout Byzantine “would have been satisfied with the newspaper clipping.” And from modern consumer culture, he turns to Byzantine consumption and edible icons. Again, the Symeon tokens take center stage: the faithful are instructed to break them up into water, to drink it or bathe with it,“and you will see the glory of God” (p. 8). The author’s fascination with the similarities between contemporary popular religious culture and Early Christian devotional practices lies behind the least well-know of Vikan’s oeuvre, “Graceland as Locus Sanctus” (Study IV), which originally appeared in Elvis + Marilyn: 2 x Immortal (New York, 1994). Here he traces the development of the cult of “Saint” Elvis, the sanctification of Graceland as a Holy Land, and similarities between modern tourism and Early Christian pilgrimage. The collection also includes studies of Byzantine marriage rings, the iconography of a peculiar ivory plaque, and Coptic funerary sculpture. All are thought-provoking and to the point, and many should be standard features on undergraduate reading lists. These are the sorts of writings that can spark the interest of undergraduates, graduates, and mature scholars alike. University of Pennsylvania ROBERT OUSTERHOUT Icons and Power: The Mother of God in Byzantium. By Bissera V. Pentcheva. (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press. 2006. Pp. xviii, 302. $60.00.) The generality of the title of this book, evocative of the titles of recent epic exhibitions (“Byzantium: Faith and Power” and “Mother of God: Representations of the Virgin in Byzantine Art”), suggests a broad, sweeping view of Byzantine icons of the Virgin. In fact, it is a highly focused investigation of the cult of the Virgin in Constantinople and is based on the development and function of relics and icons at three specific sites in Constantinople: the monasteries of Blachernai, Hodegon, and Pantokrator, taking us, therefore, from the fifth to the twelfth centuries in an intricately developed narrative on the capital, its emperors and empresses, its wars and its religious practices. Extensive supplementary material, textual and visual, supports the argument, which has two strands: the manipulation by the imperial family of the Virgin’s cult and the public, processional manifestation of fidelity to the Virgin. The first part of the book looks at the relation of the Virgin and imperial power, and at the origins of the civic cult in which the Virgin took on the role of earlier female protectors of the city, such as Tyche and Nike, thus protecting imperial power and leading to state backing for her cult as well as appropriation of it to assert legitimacy. Pentcheva then looks at the role of the Virgin in sieges of the city, such BOOK REVIEWS 617 as by the Avars in 626, showing that relics rather than icons of the Theotokos were used at this time to ward off the enemy. Her icons were not carried in public ceremonies until the late tenth century and not until the eleventh were they wielded by emperors in war. Pentcheva then explores the sustaining power of the Virgin’s “motherhood” during times of war and her selfless love in giving Christ to the world. The second part of the book focuses on the Hodegetria icon, the most renowned icon in the city and used extensively in processions, on the Blachernai icon and its miraculous effects, and on the use of the Hodegetria by the emperors at the Pantokrator monastery. It has been a longstanding view that the Virgin’s cult arose in the fifth and sixth centuries, but Pentcheva shows how the Theotokos’s reputation was given a legendary past in the eleventh and twelfth centuries at the time when the cult was truly formulated. The book is well written in good and precise prose and laid out with logical clarity in combination with well-chosen and beautifully produced illustrations on at least two-thirds of the pages. Pentcheva is in command of many texts (chronicles, hymns, sermons, poems) used to deepen her arguments and draws on extensive supplementary material such as coins, seals, ivories, and paintings. I have some unease with the westernization of terminology, such as “Marian” and “Victoria” (in place of “Nike”) in a book on this subject, but presumably this is intended to widen its audience beyond those interested in Byzantium and Eastern Orthodoxy. Indeed, it should be of value to anyone concerned with religious cults, devotion, and the relation of rulers to religious symbols. CECILY HENNESSY Christie’s Education London Medieval Byzantine Christianity. Edited by Derek Krueger. [A People’s History of Christianity, vol. 3.] (Minneapolis: Fortress Press. 2006. Pp. xx, 252.) In introducing these ten articles, Derek Krueger emphasizes that this volume proposes to study Byzantine Christianity, not from the usual perspective of doctrinal disputes, ecumenical councils, and theological tracts, but rather from a consideration of how lay Christians in Byzantium from the emperor to simple villagers actually practiced their faith. In place of summarizing each essay, I will mention a few important points. Perhaps the most original of the articles is Sharon Gerstel’s discussion of rural Greek churches. Her survey reveals that modern Greece preserves approximately 2000 churches from medieval times, but most of these were built between 1204 and 1453. More specifically, of 900 Cretan churches, only five percent were built before the Venetian occupation (1204). Gerstel provides fascinating descriptions of these churches and their frescos, illustrations 618 BOOK REVIEWS of biblical events, and images of uniquely Orthodox saints. These frescos totally covered the internal walls of most structures. She also describes important Orthodox customs which grew up in and around these churches during these late Byzantine centuries: for example, the lively ceremony of the Epiphany when the bishop or priest throws a cross into a nearby body of water for young swimmers to retrieve. Gerstel locates the earliest reference to this practice in a Genoese document from Caffa on the Black Sea, dated 1440. What Gerstel does not explain is why so many churches survive from these late Byzantine centuries, when supposedly hostile Latin regimes ruled much of Greece and the islands. Gerstel no doubt addresses this key question in her forthcoming monograph on Byzantine churches in Greece. James Skedros stresses the large number of religious holidays in the Byzantine calendar by discussing a law of Manuel I (1143-1180) limiting the number of days when the law courts closed to seventy-three per year. Skedros emphasizes that Manuel had reduced the number. Under earlier emperors the courts had observed even more holidays. In view of these religious festivals, one wonders how Byzantine judges managed to litigate as many cases as the records show that they did. Jaclyn Maxwell and Vasiliki Limberis combed the speeches of John Chrysostom and the Cappadocian Fathers for details about fourth-century Byzantine congregations. Chrysostom described how Christian women wore amulets just as the pagans did, though their good-luck charms contained scripture verses rather than magical formulas. Gregory of Nyssa attacked the practice of pilgrimages, on theological grounds because such practices assumed that the action of the Holy Spirit was limited to a sacred place, and on moral grounds because some pilgrims masked immoral behavior behind the anonymity of traveler. Chrysostom also criticized excessive grief at funerals as inappropriate in view of Christ’s promise of eternal life. Several other articles discuss funerals. Georgia Frank’s essay on Romanos the Melodist refers to women’s ritual lamentation, a pagan custom which easily passed into Byzantine funerals. In his essay devoted entirely to death and dying, Nicholas Constas mentions charitable societies which provided funerals for poor people in the ninth century. Such burial societies belonged to a class of institutions in Byzantium often classified as confraternities. In her article on Byzantine women, Alice-Mary Talbot found that both men and women belonged to a confraternity in central Greece. Talbot here refers to a key article by John Nesbitt and John Wiita, which describes a lay confraternity in twelfth-century Thebes. Such confraternities evolved from urban monastic groups of the fifth and sixth centuries and represent an important element of lay piety. Unfortunately, no author in this volume directly addresses this fascinating topic, but neither have scholars who have studied the Byzantine ascetic movement from which these lay organizations clearly evolved. Salisbury University TIMOTHY S. MILLER BOOK REVIEWS 619 Les croix-reliquaires pectorales byzantines en bronze. By Brigitte Pitarakis. (Paris: Éditions A. et J. Picard. 2006. Pp. 446. €65.00 paperback.) The author makes available in an intelligent format and with crisp illustrations a large mass of cult objects of interest to art historians, students of religion, museum curators, and the larger public. The volume is essentially a catalogue of pectoral cross-reliquaries in bronze (pp. 187-390) preceded by a lengthy introduction and followed by a supplement. The catalogue section essentially consists of two parts: cross-reliquaries cast with relief decoration (nos. 1-197) and cross-reliquaries with engraved decoration (nos. 221-651). There is also a small section listing cross-eliquaries with niello decoration (nos. 206-20). A typical entry begins with identification of the collection in which the object is conserved and its inventory number. Such data are then followed by a far more subjective description, namely, the cultural milieu in which the object was produced (for example, “Constantinople,” “Constantinople or Anatolia”) and at what general date. The entry continues with specification of the item’s dimensions, next its provenance, and then its state of preservation. In the introduction to the catalogue the author clearly defines the principles behind the catalogue’s structure. It unfolds according to “groupings of related pieces” (p. 187). At the base of such groupings is chronology. In pinpointing dates the author has employed considerations of the technique behind an object’s decoration and its iconography, elements, the author asserts, that provide, along with archaeological considerations, the required chronological clues. A goal of the exercise is to try to isolate individual workmen. To achieve this, one would begin with materials that fall into the same time period and proceed from there to peculiarities (or outright mistakes) in epigraphy, iconography, or style. The author fully admits that a number of unknowns might enter into play. For example, although two crosses might be very similar, this could be the result of one workshop copying the style of another. Still, it seems to this reviewer that in the final analysis the author has proceeded to organize the catalogue in a proper, time-honored manner: placing like with like. In Chapter 1 the author discusses with superb photographs the varying shapes of reliquary crosses worn on the chest. The discussion has a certain importance since it leads to the conclusion that one type may be linked to localized production in the Balkans (p. 39). Other types tend to be used exclusively with engraved decoration and still others with engraved and cast decoration. Chapter 2 delves into questions of metallic composition, techniques, and decoration. Noteworthy, from the viewpoint of production practices, is the inclusion (p. 41) of a table listing the results of chemical analysis of select pieces. Chapter 3 deals with iconography. Of particular interest to social historians who track cultic trends is Table 2 on page 108. Here the author summarizes the number of times one saint appears on cross-reliquaries with engraved decoration in contrast to others. From the author’s researches one learns that the most popular intercessor was St. George, followed in second place by St. John (the Evangelist?), and then St. Peter, the Archangel Michael, St. 620 BOOK REVIEWS Stephen, and St. Nicholas. With this material in hand, future researchers may find it interesting to compare the results of this study with the popularity of specific saints among another type of decorated object employed on a large scale, namely, Byzantine lead seals. A starting point would be J. Cotsonis’ recent article “The Contribution of Byzantine Lead Seals to the Study of the Cult of the Saints (Sixth–Twelfth Century”) in Byzantion, LXXV (2005), 383-497, in particular Chart 3. Dumbarton Oaks JOHN W. NESBITT Metamorphosis and Identity. By Caroline Walker Bynum. (New York: Zone Books, distributed by The MIT Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts. 2001/2005. Pp. 280. $32.95 clothbound; $19.95 paperback.) In Metamorphosis and Identity, Caroline Walker Bynum presents four studies that complement her past research on twelfth- and thirteenth-century attitudes toward the self, corporality, and change. Of those four chapters, three have already been published:“Wonder” (American Historical Review, 1997), “Metamorphosis, or Gerald and the Werewolf” (Speculum, 1998), and “Shape and Story” (1999 Jefferson Lecture, National Endowment for the Humanities website). Bynum notes “substantial” revisions to “Metamorphosis” and “Shape and Story.” The fourth chapter, here placed as chapter 3, “Monsters, Medians, and Marvelous Mixtures: Hybrids in the Spirituality of Bernard of Clairvaux,” further develops suggestions made in the three earlier essays about the relationship between hybridity and metamorphosis in the Middle Ages. Uniting Bynum’s collection is her conviction that the debates over change and mixture (metamorphosis and hybridity) that she analyzes illuminate fundamental medieval ontological concerns. These worries are admirably summarized in her introduction, where she explores the various ways in which the processes and existence of change influenced many levels of medieval thought. Incorporating materials as diverse as Walter of Châtillon’s satires, Bernard of Clairvaux’s sermons, and Vincent of Beauvais’ Speculum Maius, the four succeeding chapters develop aspects of this thought and suggest how medieval attitudes toward change reveal attitudes toward self. For example, Bynum concludes her chapter on Bernard of Clairvaux by stressing that, for Bernard, humanity is essentially a hybrid, facing constant intellectual and social tensions based on the dichotomies, contradictions, and oppositions of humanity itself and humanity’s environments. If Bernard’s spirituality is seen as a metamorphosis, as some scholars have suggested, Bynum stresses that metamorphosis in that case must mean a return to something, rather than change from something.Alteration/replacement would undermine the unitas which, for Bernard, must be at the heart of the human bond with God (pp. 160-162). Given the chapters’ diverse origins, it should not be surprising that this book’s richness is in its details. Bynum explores language, such as the various BOOK REVIEWS 621 meanings of monstrum and varietas, in order to highlight the almost symbiotic relationship between ontology and etymology found in medieval understanding of metamorphosis. Moreover, Bynum excels at the seemingly simple statement or brief aside, which, when reconsidered later, offers intriguing insights both to her theme and to broader historical concerns. For example, in her introduction she devotes two paragraphs to a shift between the mid- and late-twelfth-century conceptions of change (pp. 24-26). Although she only sketches this “new model” of change, it has profound implications for both eucharistic theology and medieval science. Equally suggestive is her distinction between hybridity/mixture and metamorphosis/change and her critique of motivations and methods underlying some recent historical research on medieval marvels. Her footnotes are particularly rich, and their detailed historiographical discussions add enormously to each article. Despite this book’s many strengths, it will disappoint those readers who expect to find between its pages Bynum’s last word on medieval concepts of change and identity. Certainly readers will benefit from the information it contains, but perhaps more valuable is the light this books sheds on the methodology and means of communication used by a leading medievalist grappling with questions she believes central to medieval thought. University of South Carolina KATHRYN A. EDWARDS Feastdays of the Saints. A History of Irish Martyrologies. By Pádraig Ó Riain. [Subsidia Hagiographica, 86.] (Brussels: Société des Bollandistes. 2006. Pp. xxviii, 416. €75.00 paperback.) For the first three centuries of the Christian Church the cult of martyr saints and their relics hardly existed. By the end of the fifth century, the field was a growth industry. The extent of the change is to be seen in the contrasting reactions of the younger Augustine, dismissive of Donatist claims to special sanctity for the Christian departed, and the older Church Father, wearied alike by the senectus mundi and the Vandal siege of Carthage, in the last book of his City of God offering an elevated discussion of body and soul and the possibility of resurrection (as expounded by Plato, Cicero, and Porphyry) and then breaking off into an enthusiastic catalogue of the miracles allegedly wrought by St. Stephen at the local shrines of Hippo and Uzalis. Though the phenomenon has been viewed by many (after Hume and Gibbon) as a sign of the “vulgarization” of religion in the post-Roman world, many scholars have seen the cult of saints and their relics as a direct descendant of pre-Christian mortuary practices (the pervigilia of the dead). On the other hand, Peter Brown and his followers have made radical claims for the originality of Christian commemorations. But are they right? It appears natural enough to trace the origins of the festal commemoration of sancti back to the consular laterculi or fasti of the pagan Roman world, and, by extension, to 622 BOOK REVIEWS trace the linear descent of such texts from the Fasti of Furius Dionysius Filocalus (A.D. 354) [ed. Th. Mommsen, Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum 1 (1863) 332-357] through to the “Christianized”version of Polemius Silvius (A.D. 448/9), christiano odio imbutus, who used Filocalus’s Fasti as his model, but stripped it of all pagan elements (except the names of the Egyptian months). Polemius Silvius was, according to that great Bedan scholar Charles W. Jones, a source for Bede’s chronological writings. Some have seen behind this new-found enthusiasm for the saints and their relics the hand of Pope Damasus—that great “tickler of noblewomen’s ears” (auriscalpius matronarum), and patron of Filocalus, who carved many of the pope’s most impressive verse inscriptions in Rome. Damasus’s violent campaign in the early 380’s to wrest the sedes apostolica from his rival required new tactics and new weapons; one of these was the power of the “very special dead,” whose bones were all over Rome. The extent of his success is illustrated by the rapidity with which Ambrose—that other great Christian “impresario” (Peter Brown’s term)—“miraculously” discovered the remains of SS. Gervasius and Protasius in Milan in 385, and turned them to a similar purpose. After that, it was just a matter of compiling lists of names of saints and martyrs (along the lines of the Notitia locorum sanctorum compiled early for Rome) and adding to them over time. Such a procedure might very well have produced the Martyrologium Hieronimianum.“There is perhaps no more horrible book in all of antiquity,” wrote the Bollandist Victor de Buck in 1875, and who would gainsay a Bollandist in such matters! It is more than a little odd, therefore, that the Irish—the last to join the fold of the Christian Church before the final collapse of the Roman Empire— should have preserved the names of none of their earliest martyrs (those newly-baptized converts whose massacre is reported by St. Patrick), and yet the oldest extant manuscript of Jerome’s Martyrology, Paris, BN lat. 10837 (saec. VIII) was written by Virgilius, an Irish member of the seventh-century mixed Anglo-Saxon-Irish community at Rath Melsigi (Co. Carlow), who, after A.D. 690, transferred to Echternach (Luxembourg) with its founder Willibrord; the Venerable Bede had a great deal to say about both. Professor Ó Riain has for many years pioneered the study of the earliest Irish vernacular martyrologies and their relationship with that Rath Melsigi/Echternach book, and this collection brings together in thirteen chapters and an Epilogue most (but not all) of his contributions to the subject. (It is perhaps unfortunate, e.g., that his H. M.Chadwick Memorial Lecture, AngloSaxon Ireland: The Evidence of the Martyrology of Tallaght [Cambridge, 1993] was not included.) Stated bluntly, Ó Riain’s argument is that the founder of Bede’s monastery, Benedict Biscop, on his return in 679 or early 680 from one of his several visits to Rome, brought back with him John, the Arch-chanter and precentor of St. Peter’s basilica in Rome, who instructed the communities at Wearmouth- BOOK REVIEWS 623 Jarrow by “teaching the cantors . . . the order and manner of singing and reading aloud,” and—of vital importance to the argument—“committing to writing all things necessary for the celebration of festal days throughout the whole year” (Bede, HE IV 18). In Professor Ó Riain’s interpretation, these “writings” (sic) comprised an early manuscript of the Hieronymian Martyrology, and he further argues that the entire early transmission of the Martyrology passed through this Northumbrian channel.Whether this argument can stand remains to be seen (it has been strongly objected to by, e.g., by Felice Lifshitz, The Name of the Saint. The Martyrology of Jerome and Access to the Sacred in Francia, 627-827 [Notre Dame, Indiana, 2006], esp. pp. 141-150), and adequate discussion of the question is not possible here. Of undisputed value, however, is Professor Ó Riain’s magisterial summary of all the later Irish evidence, from the early ninth century down to the seventeenth. The book will be required reading for anyone approaching the thorny problem of the Hieronimian Martyrology in the years to come. National University of Ireland, Galway DÁIBHÍ Ó CRÓINÍN Jewish Dogs: An Image and Its Interpreters. By Kenneth Stow. [Stanford Studies in Jewish History and Culture.] (Stanford: Stanford University Press. 2006.Pp. xxii, 316. $55.00.) Kenneth Stow remains one of the best interpreters of medieval Christian attitudes toward the Jews. In this magnificent contribution of the representation of the Jews in Catholic (Christian) theology from the early Church through the late Middle Ages, Stow takes a theme: that of “Jewish dogs” (the Jews as dogs) as a means of exploring the dehumanization of the Jews as a collective in Western Christendom. Stow uses this theme to discuss everything from the history of the “irrationality” of the Jews to their status as social pariahs. Centrally, he is concerned with how and why such images lead to specific actions against the Jewish collective. Focusing on the period of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries and on the Belgian Jesuit Bollandists and then specifically on Richard of Pontoise and Philip Augustus, Stow spins a complex and intricate tale of how Judaism is constructed as the antithesis not only of Christianity, but as a product of a subhuman group defined as much by their “essence” as by their religious practice. The theories of supersession, of how Christianity replaced Judaism in the Divine Order, so well articulated by Augustine in De Doctrina Christiana, comes to be understood as a concept of natural law. If the Jews had to vanish, their refusal to do so, which so puzzled Hegel in the early nineteenth century, can only be explained by the blindness (to use Paul’s word) of the Jews. Stow carefully and purposefully shows how this moral stubbornness is represented as the result of the impurity of the Jews and how such attitudes inexorably led to the claims of the “child martyrs”and blood libel. 624 BOOK REVIEWS Stow contributes a piece of a puzzle of European anti-Semitism, as he argues for a continuity of such views across the Reformation and CounterReformation to the “reappearance” of blood libel (in slightly distorted form) in the nineteenth century. The continuities rest within the tradition of Catholic (specifically Bollandist) theology and its representation of the Jews. Not the accusation itself, but the demonization of the Jews as dogs remains constant across time. From Philip Augustus, the son of Louis VII, to the Russian Pale in the nineteenth century, such beliefs rest on the sense that Jews are inherently different from Christians and such differences enable them to act in horrific ways. By examining the medieval Jewish responses to such charges and to the burnings of Jews based on these accusations (such as at Blois), Stow is able to provide a view of Jews representing Christians representing Jews. This book is a tour-de-force on the level of the last great work of the original Warburg group, Isaiah Shachar’s study of the Judensau (1974) as well as Ronnie Hsia’s The Myth of Ritual Murder: Jews and Magic in Reformation Germany (1988). It is a book that every serious student of the history of antiSemitism and the Jewish response will use again and again. Emory University SANDER L. GILMAN Satan the Heretic. The Birth of Demonology in the Medieval West. By Alain Boureau. Translated by Teresa Lavender Fagan. (Chicago:The University of Chicago Press. 2006. Pp. 216. $30.00, £19.00.) In this book Alain Boureau argues that a new obsession with the Devil and demons among theologians in the late thirteenth and early fourteenth century was a crucial stage in the origins of the witchcraft persecutions. He shows that the period 1280-1330 was a turning point in theological attitudes to humandemon interaction, with a significant event being Pope John XXII’s consultation of ten theologians and canonists in 1320 on the categorization of magical practices as heretical.The causes for the new anxiety about magical practices and the heightened scholastic interest in demons included the influx of learned magic texts translated from Arabic into Latin in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries and the perceived threat to orthodoxy posed by dualist heresies. The discipline of demonology emerged in a context of changing attitudes to the efficacy of magical rituals. In the thirteenth century there was a shift from skepticism about the reality of magical transformations to a widespread belief that magical practitioners could produce real effects in the physical world with the assistance of demons. Boureau argues that in the period 12801330 the fear of demons grew as stories about the ways humans and spirits could be bound together through possession, invocation, and pact became more credible and significant. These three types of interaction with spirits had different implications. Boureau draws attention to the openness of the human subject in the Middle Ages. It was thought to have the potential to undergo BOOK REVIEWS 625 incorporation and inhabitation with the divine, but also to be vulnerable to possession by the Devil through a mere word or ill-judged wish. A second development, which is not discussed in detail but which supports Boureau’s argument about the theological anxiety about demons, was the new emphasis found in learned magic texts on the ability of humans to compel, persuade, and manipulate spirits. This was particularly significant in the genre of necromancy, which involved the explicit summoning of demons and was mostly practiced by male clerics. The third development was the concept of a strong and heretical pact between human and demon which, as Boureau shows, acquired a “fearsome actuality” in the thirteenth century. For theologians, possession highlighted the particular susceptibility of female bodies to supernatural influence, while necromancy strengthened the notion of alliances between humans and demons in the practice of magic. The concept of a Satanic pact provided justification for treating magical practices as heretical and brought them more explicitly under the aegis of inquisitors. Boureau explains the century-long gap between the development of these concepts and the first witchcraft persecutions of the early fifteenth century by arguing that there were initial weaknesses in the procedures of repression.Yet he also suggests that the social, economic, and religious crises of the fourteenth century provided a vivid context for imagining a terrible demonic enemy bearing down on the Christian community through the susceptible bodies of women who had bound themselves to Satan with heretical pacts. As Boureau himself notes, his book provides only one strand of explanation for the origins of the witchcraft persecutions, but it is a convincing one. At times the organization of the book and its imprecise terminology (for example, the terms “personality” and “sorceror”) are confusing, and not all of his examples are as fully explained as one would wish. But this is a valuable addition to the history of medieval demonology and magic. University College London SOPHIE PAGE Binding Words:Textual Amulets in the Middle Ages. By Don C. Skemer. [Magic in History.] (University Park: The Pennsylvania State University Press. 2006. Pp. viii, 327. $75.00 clothbound, $25.00 paperback.) The topic of “magic” never fails to arouse interest, even in what Weber described as our “disenchanted” modern world. Yet I would contend that hardly any two of us can be found today to agree on exactly what the word “magic” means. Convinced that empirical historical research will do much to dispel the confusion, the Pennsylvania State University Press recently began its monograph series,“Magic in History.” Don Skemer’s study on medieval textual amulets represents the latest return on what is already proving to be a remarkably profitable investment of scholarly and publishing resources. 626 BOOK REVIEWS As Skemer makes clear at the start, the object of his investigation consists of “apotropaic texts, handwritten or mechanically printed on . . . writing supports of varying dimensions” and “worn around the neck or placed elsewhere on the body” for protection against harmful enemies and spirits or to bring health and good fortune (p. 1). He emphasizes that such “textual amulets” are to be distinguished from “talismans”—reserved for “astrological seals and figures” procured and worn for similar purposes—and “charms”—referring simply to “speech acts” though again performed with much the same ends in mind (pp. 8-9). The Latin terms signifying his intended objects were, among the church fathers, “ligatura” and “phylacterium,” but for most of the Middle Ages “charta,” “cedula,” “littera,” “scriptura,” or “breve.” Most common among Middle English equivalents were “brief” and “writ.” Though the author announces his intention to focus on textual amulets and their use from the thirteenth through the fifteenth centuries, in fact his book covers the subject well for the whole of the European Middle Ages. What stands out in Skemer’s approach is the commendable determination not to fall prey to preconceptions about the dividing line between magic and religion. Warning us that rationalism and Orientalism have encouraged most modern scholars to regard medieval textual amulets as residues of the “primitive” in ritual practices of the lower orders of society, he insists that an unbiased look reveals them instead as prevalent in the most orthodox Christian circles and just as—perhaps more—common among the elite as in the ranks of illiterate peasants. Late-antique intellectuals like Augustine might have fulminated against textual amulets as either fraudulent or dependent on demonic intervention, and Caesarius of Arles condemned their use as at best a sacrilege. But for most of the centuries between the sixth and the sixteenth, they were accepted by the majority of clergy and laity alike as—in Skemer’s words—“a renewable source of Christian empowerment” (p. 1). No doubt the primary use to which Skemer’s volume will be put is as guidebook to actual amulets that have survived from the Middle Ages and index of amuletic practices witnessed in the extant sources. Though the quantity of material he has unearthed is well-nigh overwhelming, following his presentation through from beginning to end constitutes a first step in coming to grips with an historical world most of us can scarcely comprehend. From the seventh- or eighth-century pectoral cross found in Lausanne and inscribed with crosses and variations on the ancient charm “ABRACADABRA,” through Roger Bacon’s thirteenth-century praise of a textual amulet against epilepsy comprised of verses on the names of the Three Kings, to the fifteenth-century Malleus maleficarum’s counseling inquisitors to protect themselves from evil spells by carrying on their person a parchment sheet bearing the Seven Last Words of Christ, the astounding variety of amulets and the diversity of purposes to which they were put defies any neat, modernizing understanding of their cultural valence. BOOK REVIEWS 627 Equally significant, however, is the historical progression Skemer has discerned beneath the mountain of evidence he has amassed. For the early centuries, ecclesiastics were the primary producers of amulets, even when they were intended for the laity. Only in the thirteenth century, with universities and increased lay literacy, did the situation start to change. They were the years as well when learned ritual magic, as from the pseudo-Solomonic books, began to supplement the home-grown tradition of amuletic texts drawn from more exclusively Christian beginnings. That same period witnessed the reemergence of a powerful current of resistance among intellectuals, unseen since the days of Augustine and Caesarius. It is no surprise that a twelfth-century English monastic miscellany containing amuletic recipes should, for example, be glossed in the margins by a late-medieval hand cautioning “beware” and “error.” Which brings us back, of course, to the rationalism Skemer has warned us against. Aquinas’s reminder that the words of Scripture ought rather to be inscribed in the heart than worn around the neck leads inexorably to Luther’s outright condemnation of any Christian appropriation of sacred names, words, and formulas for personal protection. The resultant divide between magic and religion, self-evident to us but so foreign to most sensibilities in the Middle Ages, has its own developmental history, to whose investigation the Pennsylvania State series is directed as well. In addition to enlightening us about the sacral elasticity of the Middle Ages, Skemer’s book also contributes to these efforts to reappraise the rise of modern “disenchantment.” On both counts, his contribution is welcome and should spur future work. Tufts University STEVEN P. MARRONE A Place to Believe In: Locating Medieval Landscapes. Edited by Clare A. Lees and Gillian R. Overing. (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press. 2006. Pp. x, 272. $65.00 clothbound; $25.00 paperback.) A collection of ten essays, edited by Clare A. Lees and Gillian R. Overing, is an extension of a conference,“A Place to Believe in: Medieval Monasticism in the Landscape,” which brought together the contributors in Whitby (now North Ridding) in the summer of 2003 “in order to think about place while in place (p. 24).” The volume offers an insight into the workings of complementary fragmentation in medieval historiography. Due to greater division of labor and the bringing together of diverse subdisciplines, every one of which presents different political or ideological motivations as well as different attitudes toward an archive and evidence, such a historiographic strategy presents a reader with a nuanced understanding of the distinction between space and place. Gesturing toward Michel Foucault’s analysis of spatial power relations, Michel de Certeau’s spatial practices, Pierre Bourdieu’s reflexive sociology, and the 628 BOOK REVIEWS most recent work in the field of “human/spatial geography,” the editors give us an excellent introduction which describes the scope of the volume, drawing attention to the multiple readings of the concept of place—that is, as a place that “gathers” objects/things, which are both engendered by it and engender it; as a site of and for cultural memory; as a place that identifies a community on the geo-political map; as a locus of material structures; as a place that allows for the construction of the relationship between these structures and the bodies moving within it; as a place that reveals material and immaterial, real and imaginary, royal and ecclesiastical power relations; and finally, as a place that charts geographies of desire, abjection, and devotion in Anglo-Saxon England. A Place to Believe In is divided into three parts. Part One,“Place Matters,” a clear reference to Butlerian “mattering of bodies,” consists of essays which deal with Anglo-Saxon monuments, monasteries, and mutable boundaries. Fred Orton is concerned with the Bewcastle Monument, familiar to many art historians, and how a Heideggerian notion of a built thing could “matter” the monument anew. Focusing on Bede’s silence on the geography around him in Ecclesiastical History, Ian Wood puts forth a suggestion that this silence “unmattered” the attention to Jarrow and thus created the impression of a region much more marginalized than it really was. Kelley M.Wickham-Crowley’s essay considers human marks on the landscape modified by Anglo-Saxon colonizers. Part Two,“Textual Location,” focuses on the textuality of place in medieval writing. Stacy S. Klein treats place “as a profoundly social entity” (p. 113), which exerted an impact on the textual locality of the narrators of the female-voiced elegies. Ulrike Withaus reveals how Gertude of Hefta’s distinct spatial and geographic vocabulary of ecstasies and visions translated an ordinary courtyard with a fishpond into a locus of a spiritual conversion for the nuns. Stephanie Hollis’s discussion of strategies of emplacement and displacement enriches her argument concerning how the built environment gains significance from the lives lived within it—in her case, the life of St. Edith as commemorated by Goscelin. Diane Watt assesses the impact of the environment on Margery Kempe’s piety and religious certainty. And, finally, Part Three, “Landscapes in Time,” moves the reader from medieval past to a contemporary contemplation of the landscape of war and its impact on preserving, conserving, and meditation on the past as seen by Rose Macaulay (England) and Daniel Libeskind (Berlin) (Sarah Beckwith); to the assessment of the Cistercians’ strategy of occupying places in the landscape while the climate changed the environmental rules under which they operated (Kenneth Addison); and to locating the views on medieval monasticism in the modern American imagination of popular and contemporary eco-culture in Oregon, in general, and in a project directed by the ecologist and community activist Richard Hart, a former member of the Institute of Christian Brothers, in particular (Ann Marie Rasmussen). The scope of the volume is exemplary. The topics which constitute the “matter” of this fragmentary, but complementary, historiography open up the BOOK REVIEWS 629 conceptual place of what the volume could have been. The editors knew that; some of the contributors, however, did not match the aspirations of Lees and Overing. Be that as it may, A Place to Believe In is a worthwhile addition to the discourse on the medieval practices of space/place. University of Minnesota MICHAL KOBIALKA The Transformation of a Religious Landscape. Medieval Southern Italy, 8501150. By Valerie Ramseyer. [Conjunctions of Religion and Power in the Medieval Past.] (Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press. 2006. Pp. xviii, 222. $42.50.) In the second half of the twelfth century the office of the archbishop of Salerno was held by two imposing figures: Romuald II of Salerno (1153-1181), medical expert, possible author of a world chronicle, diplomat, and at varying points royal adviser, and Nicholas (1182-1222), son of the royal vice-chancellor and himself a leading figure in the highest political circles of Southern Italy. Both these men added to the prestige of the Salernitan church and at the same time enhanced their own standing through their position at the head of what seemed a well-organized and lucrative archdiocese. Valerie Ramseyer’s clear and well-informed survey demonstrates the extent to which this more efficient and structured archiepiscopal system found in Salerno after 1150 was a relatively recent development. The work actually focuses primarily on the Church in the Principality of Salerno in the period 850 to 1150, but the author’s ability to draw repeatedly comparisons and contrasts with other regions of Southern Italy justifies the study’s wider title. Ramseyer traces in detail the long and uneven process in which the archdiocese of Salerno was reorganized, reformed, and centralized under the archbishop’s rule: a development which only seemed to take shape from around 1000 and was far from complete by 1100. The work also covers the emergence, over a similar period, of the abbey of Cava, just outside Salerno, into a highly organized religious complex, under a more structured Benedictine monastic rule. Cava acquired a host of religious foundations, governed them centrally, and wielded territorial power, all of which was done autonomously from the archbishop of Salerno, through papal approval. Before the rise of these two religious networks in the eleventh century, the ecclesiastical map of the Principality of Salerno consisted of a patchwork of religious houses built by local families and consortia (associations). Religious practices were diverse; some houses were Greek foundations, while there was no standard form of monastic life throughout the Principality of Salerno. The bishop of Salerno (raised to archiepiscopal rank in the 980’s) was a relatively inconsequential figure in terms of his religious and political authority. In addition, the worlds of the laity and the secular clergy were firmly intertwined. The main achievement of Ramseyer’s study is to reveal clearly, as the title states, a transformation of a religious landscape, and how exactly this occurred (in part 630 BOOK REVIEWS a result of the broader church reform and increased support of both papal and lay power). One of the greatest strengths of the study is its ability to place repeatedly the ecclesiastical transformations into a wider context, not just South Italian, but Western European, Mediterranean, and Byzantine as well. But at the same time the underlying message from Ramseyer’s work is that the religious landscape in the Principality of Salerno was always heavily influenced by the local community and by local initiative (the author’s use of the extensive Cava archives makes this finding possible). The dovetailing of the impact of these two spheres, the international and the local, is at the heart of the work— never more so than within the discussion of the way the eleventh-century papal church reform impacted upon the Salernitan church. The conclusion emerges that the church of Salerno gradually integrated with the rest of Europe from the eleventh century, but equally always retained its own distinctiveness. Ramseyer’s study offers a valuable analysis of the Church in an important region of Southern Italy, and by not being restricted to either the Lombard or Norman periods, it is able to uncover significant long-term transitions that might otherwise have been missed. Manchester Metropolitan University PAUL OLDFIELD Ælfric and the Cult of Saints in Late Anglo-Saxon England. By Mechthild Gretsch. [Cambridge Studies in Anglo-Saxon England, Volume 34.] (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2006. Pp. xii, 263. $90.00, £47.50.) The modern world has become used to attributing to each decade of the twentieth century its own distinct feel and pervading ethos, which distinguishes, say, the Sixties from the Eighties or the Thirties. It is intriguing to think that Anglo-Saxon authors also had a similar sense of the various periods in their recent past which they liked to look back upon. In her new monograph, Mechthild Gretsch examines a number of saints’ cults not from the point of view of the modern scholar, but through the eyes of Ælfric, the Anglo-Saxon abbot of Eynsham working in the later tenth and early eleventh centuries. Her aim is to examine how Ælfric reacted to the developing cults of Gregory, Cuthbert, Benedict, Swithun, and Æthelthryth and their literary manifestations. Gretsch starts off with a detailed demonstration that these five saints indeed held unusually prominent positions in Ælfric’s sanctorale (pp. 1-20). Idiosyncrasies in Ælfric’s choice of feasts relating to these saints are shown not to be coincidental, but intentionally symmetrical: it is part of Gretsch’s argument here to demonstrate that some of Ælfric’s hagiographical choices parallel the commemoration of saints in London, British Library, Add. 49598, the Benedictional of Æthelwold, a highlight of tenth-century book production from within Ælfric’s cultural milieu. What follows are “five monographs en miniature”(p. viii) which deal with the main saints in turn, and which in themselves represent important publications not just on Ælfric but on earlier AngloSaxon hagiography. BOOK REVIEWS 631 Little can be added to the many interesting points Gretsch makes: the feast given for Eugenia (“peculiar indeed,” p. 7) need not necessarily have come from the Cotton-Corpus Legendary, but is already in the Old English Martyrology, a text known to have been in late Anglo-Saxon Winchester, Glastonbury, and Exeter. In a forthcoming publication I will be discussing John Frankis’s suggestion that Ælfric knew and used the Martyrology, and Gretsch is here opening up some interesting questions. Similarly, the focus on the depositions of Gregory, Benedict, and Cuthbert (p. 14) is also paralleled in the Martyrology. The Martyrology also seems to testify to at least some version of Paul the Deacon’s interpolated Life of Gregory reaching Anglo-Saxon England (pp. 61-62). Some might object to the suggestion that “in our days saints are rarely culted” (p. 247), and a look at the Vatican’s web site would also suggest otherwise. Perhaps some readers would have appreciated a plate showing the Benedictional’s “Choir of Confessors.”Apart from these minor points, however, nothing much seems to be missing from this fascinating monograph, which is full of openings and ideas for further lines of enquiry (now highlighted in the margins of this reviewer’s copy). There can be only few modern AngloSaxonists who would have been able to produce this nuanced picture of Ælfric’s cultural milieu which tries “to move beyond the written word” (p. 18) and which is to be greeted with enthusiastic applause. Apart from the two tiniest typos on pp. 235 and 250 no further slips could be found in this exceptionally accurate study. University of St Andrews CHRISTINE RAUER St. William of York. By Christopher Norton. [York Studies in Medieval Theology, V.] (Rochester, New York: Boydell and Brewer. 2006. Pp. xvi, 271. $80.00.) St. William, William of York, William fitzHerbert, is best known as the archbishop of York who was—uniquely—elected to that office twice, the first time after a protracted election following the death of Archbishop Thurstan (1140), and the second six years after his own deposition by the pope.With historical scholarship to date concerned mainly with the controversies and polemical literature of the years of conflict, little attention has been given to William’s career prior to 1143, as long serving canon of York Minster and its treasurer— the latter office held with the archdeaconry of the East Riding—or with his posthumous career as the North’s answer to Thomas Becket. Even his career as archbishop has been overshadowed both by the “case of St.William of York” (the phrase used memorably by David Knowles) and by his death just a week after celebrating Mass in York Minster to mark his triumphal return, the circumstances of which contributed to suspicions of murder. Moreover, as Christopher Norton argues in this very welcome study of William, much of the literature has been colored by the propaganda of William’s opponents, most notoriously the Cistercian abbot, Bernard of Clairvaux, who, among other choice phrases, described William as a man “who is rotten from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.” Norton demonstrates in this scholarly and 632 BOOK REVIEWS engaging book that there is much more to be known of the entire spectrum of William’s career than has previously been supposed. Norton meticulously mines the evidence to reconstruct and analyze William’s thirty-five years or so at York prior to his election as archbishop in 1143, and to elucidate the importance of the growth of his cult and his canonization in 1226.William emerges as a prominent and important figure in the northern province; yet he did not appear at York in the time of Archbishop Thomas II (1109–1114) from nowhere. As Norton shows, his career path was made possible by his father, Herbert the royal treasurer; indeed, his appointment formed part of a “complex set of negotiations” between the summers of 1108 and 1109, with William’s father, two archbishops, and King Henry I. Tracing William’s career once he arrived at York is complicated by the existence of several archdeacons named William, but Norton confidently demonstrates that fitzHerbert is to be identified as William of Beverley, and thus played a part in the crucial embassy to Rome concerned with the primacy dispute between Archbishop Thurstan and his Canterbury counterpart.William’s diplomatic skills must have been honed by his need to remain in favor with the king in view of both his support of Thurstan and his own father’s fall from grace. Norton’s rich exploration of this long period of William’s life certainly rescues him from the effects of the dominance of the disputed election in the historiography, as does his analysis of the admittedly rather sparse evidence for William’s activities as diocesan and metropolitan. Norton brings a fresh eye to the machinations of the 1140’s, from William’s election to his deposition in 1147 and beyond, and in his discussions William seems a figure of dignity in contrast to Bernard who “emerges from the affair with very little credit.” Finally, Norton picks his way delicately through the rich but hitherto neglected sources for the cult and the canonization of St. William, and the posthumous career of this neglected figure. This book is of interest not only as a corrective to previous assessments of William of York, but for the rich picture of the northern diocese in this formative period. University of Wales Lampeter JANET BURTON Ramsey: the Lives of an English Fenland Town, 1200-1600. By Anne Reiber DeWindt and Edwin Brezette DeWindt. (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press. 2006. Pp. xvi, 455. Attached data CD.) Anne and Edwin DeWindts’ long-awaited study of the town of Ramsey and its neighboring villages of Hepmangrove and Bury is a very welcome addition to the study of late medieval English society. The town of Ramsey was located in the fenland region of the old county of Huntingdonshire, now Cambridgeshire. Ramsey was first home to the Benedictine monastery, founded in 969. Some two hundred years later a town evolved around it. Its inhabitants supplied the abbey with needed supplies and labor, and over the centuries, an easy familiarity developed between the townspeople and the abbey, often eliciting condemnation from the bishop of Lincoln. At its peak in BOOK REVIEWS 633 the fourteenth century, Ramsey the town probably had between 1000 and 1500 people, whose lives depended on commercial enterprises, monastic service, and agriculture eked out of the watery fenland surroundings. Most town studies are of larger cites, such as Norwich,York, or London; thus a study of a small market town provides an important dimension to our understanding of urban life, because more people experienced urban life in the form offered by such towns as Ramsey than in large cities such as London. The DeWindts’ methodology involved looking at all the surviving records related to Ramsey, and tracing as many individuals and families through the documents as possible. This process allowed them to build up individual and family histories from which to explore the social and economic makeup of Ramsey. Such a methodology shows the fluid nature of Ramsey’s population, with new families continually arriving and old ones dying out. It also shows how individuals’ public careers developed over time, and how leadership related to landholding or commercial success. In ten chapters, the DeWindts trace the rise, parish life, political organization and local governance, economy, and gender roles of the town of Ramsey. Their time frame takes their study through the dissolution of the monastery and the legal troubles the inhabitants had with their new landlord, Henry Cromwell, grandfather to Oliver, and nephew of Thomas. Henry Cromwell tried to expand his hunting land at the expense of his tenants’ grazing land. As a consequence, the tenants rioted and Cromwell took them to court. The court records shed much light on the economic and social tensions growing out of this period of change. Such a long period also allows the authors to explore the impact of the demographic crisis of the late fourteenth century, the expanding powers of the monarchy, and its accompanying administrative and judicial reforms. One noted change was that by the sixteenth century, women were far less in evidence in the records than they had been in the thirteenth century. Some of this change is due to economic transformations which drove women out of the victualing business so important to Ramsey’s economy but changes in recordkeeping also increasingly masked individual women’s social and economic roles. Included with the book is a CD-ROM with eighteen appendices that provides much of the raw data for this book. For example, the appendices include the tax payers for the lay subsidy of 1524, the employees of the monastery and the employees of Henry Cromwell, and incidents of disruptive and aggressive behavior between 1268-1600. The wealth of raw date available in these appendices make the book and the CD very useful for teaching.The CD also includes thirty-one pictures, some of which are reproduced in the book, but only in black and white. The pictures, especially those of the countryside, help illustrate the environment that the inhabitants of Ramsey lived and worked in. Altogether, this is an engagingly written study by two scholars who know their records and their subject inside and out. State University of New York at Paltz KATHERINE L. FRENCH 634 BOOK REVIEWS Contesting the Crusades. By Norman Housley. (Malden, Massachusetts: Blackwell Publishing. 2006. Pp. xiv, 198. Paperback.) Contesting the Crusades is without question the best introduction on the market to the modern historiography of the crusades, although Norman Housley, who is more interested in them than in the settlements established in the Levant, does not include developments in the history of the Latin East. His analyses of recent treatments of the First Crusade and of the historiography of crusading in the later Middle Ages, a relatively new field which is very much his own, are brilliant. He writes perceptive guides to publications on crusading in the central Middle Ages as an idea and an institution and on its manifestation in many different theaters-of-war. In a survey of writings on inter-faith relations, he makes the often neglected point that crusading cannot be defined solely in terms of opposition to Islam, since it was directed against many other enemies as well. The last suggestion depends, of course, on the premise that operations in theaters other than the Levant and Iberia were themselves crusades. Contesting the Crusades opens with a chapter on this controversial topic. Most historians, for whom Housley himself invented the title of Pluralists, now maintain that authentic crusades were fought not only against Muslims for the recovery of Jerusalem or in its defense, but also against many different enemies on different fronts. A feature of Pluralism has been the degree to which its advocates, among them Housley himself, have been prepared to argue their case publicly. Although a few scholars, notably Ernst-Dieter Hehl, Christopher Tyerman, and Giles Constable, have defended other positions or have questioned elements in Pluralism, James Brundage has pointed out that most “adherents to the other viewpoints . . . seem not to have been moved to produce a similar coherent and systematic theoretical justification for their approach to the subject.” A really valuable feature of Contesting the Crusades is that Housley articulates clearly and fairly the ideas of this muffled opposition. Paradoxically,one has to look to the ranks of the Pluralists themselves to find any extended critique of their own position. In a thoughtful discussion Housley expresses doubts whether Pluralism is the panacea we once thought it to be, but although he recognizes that exceptions to any general rule will always be found he still seems to be searching for some all-embracing definition. Elsewhere in the book he introduces his readers to another controversial topic, the “spectrum of goals, hopes, beliefs and fears that first impelled people to take the cross and later sustained them while they were on crusade.” Everyone accepts that motivation was multifaceted and that it cannot be understood without a thorough knowledge of the context in which people took the cross and a recognition of the triggers that would galvanize them into action, including those intangible ones which Marcus Bull, who with Housley is a leading light in a group of British-trained scholars involved in the new research, has described as being the “the underlying assumptions and instincts BOOK REVIEWS 635 which up to then may not have found any dedicated outlet but could now assume a central importance.” It is not surprising that there is a division of opinion between those who are convinced that the appeal of crusading was largely charismatic and those who are still drawn to materialist explanations. Housley very fairly summarizes the arguments of both sides. The subject of the crusades has been so transformed in the last few decades that those brought up on the histories of Runciman or Setton will find it nearly unrecognizable. Contesting the Crusades is by far the most informative and intelligent introduction so far written to the way it is developing. Emmanuel College, Cambridge JONATHAN RILEY-SMITH God’s War: A New History of the Crusades. By Christopher Tyerman. (Cambridge, Massachusetts:The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. 2006. Pp. xvi, 1024. $35.00.) It seems that there is no end to books about the crusades.A great number of academic titles and popular histories on various aspects of crusading are published at regular intervals, and it is becoming increasingly difficult to keep track of all that is written about this vast field of historical inquiry. And yet, there are books that stand out from among the many, such as Christopher Tyerman’s God’s War, imposing by its impressive length of over 1000 pages alone. The dust jacket announces God’s War as “the definitive account of a fascinating and horrifying story” and compares it to Sir Steven Runciman’s wellloved and much-published “classic study of the Crusades.” Harvard University Press may have good reasons for marketing the book in the way it does, but to the professional historian such pre-emptive praise rings alarm bells. Firstly Runciman’s work received a less than guarded reception by crusade scholars when it first appeared some fifty years ago and was never accepted as a standard academic narrative. Secondly, if the postmodernist paradigm has taught us anything at all, it is that we no longer move in a world of “definitive” histories. But let us not judge the author by the foibles of his publisher. Tyerman has written an admirable work of synthesis based on his vast knowledge and upto-date expertise as a crusade scholar. His narrative is pleasing to read, offering sound judgments and profound insights on a topic which spans 500 years of European history and encompasses most parts of medieval Europe. In short, with current world politics and the military conflicts in the Middle East having led to a renewed interest in the history of the crusades, God’s War has all the ingredients to become a publishing success. Or has it? The format of the book is not easy to grasp. For the general reader this is not an easy book to read, as it provides a dense account filled with copious detail and numerous references to wider historical contexts. This requires a fair amount of previous knowledge or additional reading to appreciate the full strength of Tyerman’s arguments. By the same token, however lucid,Tyerman’s narrative is told in a basically academic language which relies on technical terms such as, for example, 636 BOOK REVIEWS “redemption of vows” or “legatine power.” Many a general reader would probably want an explanation of such terms. God’s War, of course, might also be aimed at the undergraduate student, who can be expected to deal with these challenges. If read as a first introduction to the history of the crusades, students might indeed come away with a good grounding upon which to graft their own analytical inquiries into the subject. But despite its apparent qualities, I for my part would be reluctant to use God’s War in undergraduate teaching for a number of reasons. First of all Tyerman’s overall approach to the history of crusading seems old-fashioned considering the efforts crusade scholars have undertaken in recent years in assigning a new scope to the subject. In essence, Tyerman’s is largely a straightforward chronological history of the crusading expeditions to the Holy Land between 1095 and 1291 and of the colonial settlements in Palestine which accompanied them. Out of 1000 pages, the crusades in Spain and the Baltic together are assigned a mere fifty. The political crusades, which are summarily mentioned in less than two pages, and the crusades of the post-1300 era fare even worse. Also there is no systematic treatment of thematic issues such as, for example, ideology, finance, propaganda, or the involvement of women in the crusades. This is not to say that Tyerman does not bring these elements into his narrative. But for properly understanding the crusade as a phenomenon and an institution a more rigorous and more coherent treatment of these structural components is essential. Taken on its own merits, though, God’s War is a remarkable achievement which stands witness to the many years of serious intellectual effort which Christopher Tyerman has spent in pursuit of the history of the crusade. University of Zurich CHRISTOPH T. MAIER Homilies: In Praise of God’s Holy Mother, On Our Lord’s Words to His Disciples at the Last Supper. By Ogier of Locedio. Translated and annotated by D. Martin Jenni, [Cistercian Fathers Series, 70.] (Kalamazoo, Michigan: Cistercian Publications. 2006. Pp. viii, 341. Paperback.) Ogier of Locedio (d. 1214), also known as Oglerius de Tridino, was a monk and, from 1205, abbot of the Cistercian monastery of Locedio in Piedmont. He is an undeservedly obscure figure principally because his most widely circulated and influential work, the Liber de Passione Christi et doloribus et planctibus matris eius, also known as the Planctus Marie and the Quis dabit (from its incipit), was attributed in the Middle Ages to St. Bernard of Clairvaux. It was not until 1952 that H. Barré demonstrated for modern scholarship that the Quis dabit or Planctus Marie was an extract from Ogier’s Tractatus in laudibus Sancte Dei Genetricis, which survives with his other major work, the Expositio super Evangelium in coena Domini, in Turin, Biblioteca Nazionale MS E.V.4. This manuscript is from the library of the Cistercian monastery of Santa Maria di Staffarda in the diocese of Saluzzo in Piedmont, near Ogier’s home monastery; it was compiled probably during his lifetime and is the most important witness to his works. The only edition of this man- BOOK REVIEWS 637 uscript is by J. B.Adriani, published in 1873 (Turin), but is almost unobtainable. This then is the background to Martin Jenni’s translation of Ogier’s two major works, which is based on the Staffarda manuscript and Adriani’s edition, and for the Quis dabit or Planctus Marie my edition of 1994 (Journal of Medieval Latin, 4). This volume will open up to the general reader and specialist the work of Ogier and give a context for the Planctus Marie, for the Tractatus in laudibus Sancte Dei Genetricis here entitled In Praise of God’s Holy Mother is a sermon cycle forming a narrative of meditation on the life of Mary. As Jenni points out, this narrative structure seems to have been imposed on the series of homilies; nevertheless, the Tractatus highlights much about the nature of Cistercian devotion to the Virgin, how it was conceived and developed in the light of the influence of St. Bernard’s writing. The second text, On the Lord’s Words to His Disciples at the Last Supper, is a mature work that provides an insight into the profound thoughts and feelings of a Cistercian monk who has drawn on a lifetime of meditation on the words of Christ. The Introduction is informed and deals with some of the problems of the Tractatus in a careful manner. The question of the origins of the Planctus Marie, that is, whether its circulation predates the compilation of the Tractatus or it was extracted from the finished work, is acknowledged here but Jenni rightly avoids becoming preoccupied with an issue that requires more work on the manuscript tradition of that text than is so far available or indeed relevant to this volume. Just to set the record straight, on page 19 Jenni states that he believes that his is the first modern English translation of the Planctus Marie. There is a translation in Thomas Bestul’s Texts of the Passion published by the University of Pennsylvania Press in 1996 as ‘Appendix I,’ but this is based on a manuscript chosen seemingly at random and does not, therefore, carry the authority of Jenni’s translation. This volume is most welcome and should win for Ogier or Oglerius many new readers. It is to be hoped that it also stimulates a publisher to reprint the Adriani text or to commission a new edition. University of Wales, Lampeter WILLIAM MARX Magistri Johannis Hus: Questiones. Edited by Jiři Kejř. [Corpus Christianorum: Continuatio Mediaeualis, 205; Magistri Johannis Hus Opera Omnia, Tomus XIXA.] (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols Publishers. 2004. Pp. xx, 201.) The continued recovery of the reputation of Jan Hus has been given an important boost by the agreement between Brepols and the Academia scientiarum Bohemoslovacae regarding the publication of Hus’s Opera Omnia. Hus was burnt for heresy at the Council of Constance in July 1416, an act for which John Paul II publicly apologized in December, 2000. In 1882, Johann 638 BOOK REVIEWS Loserth’s Hus und Wiclif popularized the idea that Hus had done little more than plagiarize John Wyclif (d. 1384), a calumny that has continued despite the labors of English-speaking scholars like Matthew Spinka, S. Harrison Thomson, and Howard Kaminsky, and Czech scholars from the time of Václav Flajshans in 1900 through to Frantisek Smahel, David Holeton, Vilém Herold, and many others now active. Professor Flajshans began to edit and publish Hus’s writings in hopes of improving upon the imperfect 1558 edition of Flacius Illyricus (reprinted in 1715), and produced eight volumes by 1908. Discoveries of previously unknown works continued throughout the twentieth century, and in 1959, the Academia in Prague began to publish the Opera Omnia. They projected twenty-five volumes in the series, of which the first four would be works in Czech, and the last volume dubia, leaving twenty volumes of Hus’s Latin works. Of these, the Academia published Quodlibet (Vol. XX, Bohumil Ryba, ed., 1948), Sermones de tempore qui collecta (Vol. VII, Anezka Vidmanová-Schmidtová, ed., 1959), Polemica (Vol. XXII, J. Ersil, ed., 1966), Passio Domini nostri Iesu Christi (Vol. VIII, A. Vidmanová-Schmidtová, ed., 1973), Postilla adumbrata (Vol. XIII, Bohumil Ryba, ed., 1975), and Leccionarium bipartitum, pars hiemalis (Vol. IX, A. Vidmanová-Schmidtová, ed., 1988). Hus’s most famous work, De Ecclesia, was published separately in an edition by S. Harrison Thomson in 1956. This leaves thirteen volumes for possible publication in collaboration with Brepols. Aside from Questiones, Brepols has just published an expanded version of Ryba’s 1948 Quodlibet. These Questiones are short philosophical treatments of select issues Hus is likely to have produced between 1408 and 1412. He was made Master of Arts in 1396, and Kejř views it as likely that we do not yet know whether he wrote or was engaged in other questions apart from the ten edited here. Of these, it is likely that Hus was not the author of the last, Q. de Moyse legislatore, despite its association with his hand. Some Questiones have been published before this. J. Sedlák edited two in his M. Jan Hus in 1915 (Q. de supremo rectore, and de Moyse legislatore; in Kejř these are Qq. IX and X) and S. Harrison Thomson edited four in “Four Unpublished Questiones of John Hus” (Medievalia et Humanistica Vol. 7, 1952, pp. 71-88; here Qq. VIII, III, I, and V.). Of the Questiones Thomson edited, de Materia Prima (Thomson, pp.75-79) had earlier been published in partial form in Johannis Wyclif Miscellanea Philosophica II by the Wyclif Society in 1905, although the editor, M. H. Dziewicki, doubted very much that it was by Wyclif. (Elsewhere, Thomson showed that all the works published in that particular volume were likely writings of Czech scholars.) In Kejř’s edition, this question varies slightly from Thomson’s version; with “intendo”for Thomson’s “intelligendo”in line 44,“signans” for Thomson’s “significans” in line 68, and dropping the “esse” from Thomson’s “dat esse quid” in line 60. The variations from Thomson diminish in the remaining 200 lines. Thomson’s edition of Q. de effectu indesinibili used only one of the two manuscripts in Prague University library, namely MS. X.H.9; Kejř uses the BOOK REVIEWS 639 other, MS. X.H.18, as well in his version, which is Q. III. The third of Thomson’s questions is Q. de testimonio fidei christianae, which is edited here as Q. I. Thomson used Prague University X E24 for his edition, while Kejř includes Wien 4296 as well as a response to the questio by an Oxonian monk (Mauritio de Praga, dicto Rvačka), found in Augsburg II.I.4°57.Thomson notes that X E24 seems to include at least seven questiones of Hus, of which Kejř has made use of five (Qq 1, 4, 5, 9, 10). The last of Thomson’s questions, Q. de ira et passionibus appears as Q.V in Kejrˇ’s edtion. Again,Thomson made use of one manuscript (XE24), while Kejř uses both XE24 and XH18. Here, the one variation of note appears in line 52. Kejř has “Et nulla passio sic coinquinat corpus quomodo iste, ut sit homo fornicarius aut epulator aut sompno deditus, nam omnis talis est homo bestalis…,” while Thomson has “…ut sit homo fornicarius aut copulator aut sompno deditus…,” leaving the reader to wonder just how ascetic Hus’s theology could be. Q. IV, Q .de vera felicitate, was edited by Flajshans in 1899, but here is included with a 1409 response from Mathias de Knin, who had been accused of propagating Hus’s thought the year before. Of the three remaining questiones, two were edited by Flacius Illyricus in 1558, namely Q.VII, Q. de indulgentiis (de cruciata) and Q.VI, Q. de credere. These two fill one hundred pages in Kejř’s edition. The final question, Q. II, Q. de lege divina, has never before been edited, and Kejř has used four manuscripts for this short work. This edition is an important contribution to Hus scholarship, likely to enable scholars more fully to understand Hus the scholastic thinker. Kejř has done the scholarly community a real service in re-editing questiones that were not widely available, and in editing Q. de lege divina. The series editor, Gabriel Silagi, indicates that the following volumes are in preparation: X (Leccionarium bipartitum—Pars aestiva), XIV (Dicta de tempore), XV (Sermones varii), XIXb (Recommendaciones, posiciones, sermones academici), XXI (Tractatus annorum 1408), and XXIX (Constanciensia). One can only hope that the other volumes projected in 1959 will soon be assigned, especially XVIII (Super Quatuor Sentenciarum). University of Nebraska STEPHEN E. LAHEY Magistri Johannis Hus: Quodlibet, Disputationis de Quolibet Pragae in Facultate Artium Mense Ianuario anni 1411 habitae Enchiridion. Edited by Bohumil Ryba. [Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 211.] (Turnhout: Brepols Publishers. 2006. Pp. xl, 311. €160.00.) Beginning in the thirteenth century, quodlibets were a part of the academic program of the theology and philosophy faculties of universities and were almost always held in Advent or Lent. The January date of the 1411 Hus quodlibet was an exception.The first of the two days of the quodlibet was a day of debate presided over by a master who proposed a question of his own 640 BOOK REVIEWS for discussion. He also accepted questions from anyone present on any subject and answers were suggested by the master and others. On a second day shortly afterwards, the master would present orally his determination—his answers to the questions raised. The extant records of quodlibets are either written notes of the determination or, more likely, an edited version of them compiled later. Generally the number of questions discussed was about a score (the Hus quodlibet has sixty-eight). The topics raised were not related and so the master faced a challenge to organize them. The unusual organizational device used by Hus was to arrange the questions by the dates on which those asking them had become masters, the most senior master first. Hus erred four times in imposing this sequence. The editor on three other occasions was forced to reorder the contributions in the manuscript so as to make the contents coherent. This sumptuous edition is a reprint of one published in 1948. The publisher has a twofold project: first to publish the manuscript works of Hus (about twenty-five volumes) and secondly to republish books published earlier which are now hard to find. One volume in category 1 has appeared; this is the first in category 2. The new edition is identical to its 1948 predecessor apart from the addition of an introduction and a biography of Ryba, both four pages long. There is only one complete manuscript of the 1411 Hus quodlibet (Prague, National Museum Library V C 42). Parts of the quodlibet are found in eight other manuscripts and the foliation in these is shown by marginal notes beside the corresponding sections in the base text. There are two sets of footnotes. The first relates the passages to material found in other sources; the second gives differences in wording between the main text and the eight partial ones. The critical apparatus as well as the introduction are helpful and put together carefully. The description of provenance is more sketchy than it need be. The MS must have been copied between 1416 (the date of the second quodlibet it contains) and 1455 when its owner died. There is no mention of watermarks which would have allowed a closer dating. The book was kept for a time in the Church of St. Vitus in Český Krumlov. It was not listed in Bartoš’s 1926 catalogue of the National Museum Library. Ryba tell us though that the book was a part of the library’s collection in 1938. The museum’s record keeping at the time was good and it isn’t evident why there is no record of the MS’s accession date or of its source. The new edition could also have benefited from a bibliography which would have mentioned also sources since 1948, such as Marie Tosnerová’s 2001 book which contains a listing of manuscripts acquired by the National Museum since 1926. University of Toronto BARRY F. H. GRAHAM BOOK REVIEWS 641 Cusanus: The Legacy of Learned Ignorance. Edited by Peter J. Casarella. (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press. 2006. Pp. xxxii, 280. $74.95.) In October 2001, the sixth centenary of the birth of Nicholas of Cusa (14011464), the American Cusanus Society hosted an international scholarly gathering at The Catholic University of America, joining similar conferences in Germany, Japan, Spain, Portugal, Italy, the Netherlands, Argentina, the Czech Republic, and France.1 This volume represents the fruits of that meeting, but it is far more than a straightforward set of proceedings. As to be expected in a volume dedicated to a Renaissance thinker, a number of essays examine reliance and/or divergence among antiquity, the Middle Ages, and modernity, suggesting Cusanus as a threshold figure. These matters are first taken up by four contributions, which largely focus on theology: Nancy Hudson and Frank Tobin’s translation and discussion of Cusanus’ vernacular sermon on the Pater Noster, Bernard McGinn’s location of Cusanus’ De visione Dei within the history of western mysticism, Jasper Hopkins’ comparison of Cusanus and Anselm of Canterbury, and Louis Dupré’s exploration of pantheism from Eckhart to Cusanus.The next four essays (by Wilhelm Dupré, Karsten Harries,Walter Andreas Euler, and Il Kim) examine Cusanus’ role in art, imagery of the human and divine, perspective, and interreligious dialogue—a combination that is not as surprising as it first seems. Thomas Prügl, Cary J. Nederman, and Paul E. Sigmund next examine questions of secular and church politics including representation, authority, participation, and infallibility. The collection ends with Elizabeth Brient’s discussion of mathematical metaphors in De docta ignorantia and Regine Kather’s intriguing comparison of Cusanus and Einstein on relativity of motion. A welcome aspect of the volume is the way a number of essays are in genuine dialogue with each other. Hopkins cautions against too enthusiastic an embrace of Cusanus as a prophet of modernity even as other authors make just such a connection. Nederman sees no continuity in Cusanus, but a break with the past, while Sigmund finds a middle way, noting how Cusanus was both fixed in and fractured from medieval political thought. Kim, as a result of a post-conference research trip, corrects Euler’s interpretation of a particular painting, saying it does not depict Jesus, Moses, and Mohammed, but Jesus, Moses, and the evangelist Luke, marking quite a difference. Kather and Brient should be read together, which is not surprising, but also profitably with McGinn, Louis Dupré, and Harries. To bookend these contributions, Casarella offers within his introduction a helpful comparison of two jubilees—the 1964 conferences in Germany and Spain marking the fifth centenary of Cusanus’ death and the 2001 meetings. 1 This reviewer sits on the Executive Committee of the American Cusanus Society, but was not involved in the conference planning or this volume’s composition. 642 BOOK REVIEWS Casarella traces how the interest in Cusan topics has evolved in the nearly four decades intervening: notably, there has been a new interest in Cusanus’ spirituality, driven especially by the new availability of critical editions of his sermons. Casarella concludes the collection with a useful suggested reading section that walks the reader through the twenty-two volumes of the modern critical edition (published in Germany, 1932-2005), translations of Cusanus’ works in English and German, the leading Cusan journals, print and online resources, bibliographies, and publication information for the other 2001 Cusan centennial conferences. These features complement Casarella’s able editing, making Cusanus: The Legacy of Learned Ignorance a volume that offers a breadth of topics and weighty scholarly conversation that cut across fields and often defy categories. It is, therefore, a set of essays worthy of Cusanus’ own overlapping interests and style. CHRISTOPHER M. BELLITTO Kean University Early Modern Moderate Voices in the European Reformation. Edited by Luc Racaut and Alec Ryrie. [St. Andrew’s Studies in Reformation History.] (Burlington, Vermont: Ashgate Publishing Company. 2005. Pp. xiv, 219. $94.95.) As the editors of this volume point out in their introduction, a book bearing this title might be expected to be rather brief. The Reformation is not normally thought of as a time of moderation. This volume presents a series of essays which attempt to illuminate some of the more obscure corners of the world of the Reformation in which people tried to avoid or reduce the intolerance and violence which erupted from religious schism. (This is, however, something quite different from our modern conception of religious liberty or toleration.) One of the difficulties here, of course, is the very definition of “moderate,” for it is very much a moving target. One must always ask, “Moderate in relation to what?” Moreover, as the editors rightly observe, there can be no single definition of moderation, for “moderation had many layers and many flavours”(p. 4). It is the particular strength of this collection of ten essays that each contribution shines its light on a different corner and illuminates a different flavor of moderation. This moderation took a number of different forms. Diplomatically, as explored by Alexandra Kess, the Du Bellay brothers steered the foreign policy of Francis I toward alliance with German Lutherans, both as a means of countering Charles V, and also of keeping the flame of religious reform within France. Elizabeth Tingle’s chapter on the Breton city of Nantes explores the reality of religious division in everyday life, concluding that to the city fathers, order and stability were more important than orthodoxy and conformity. Alain Tallon argues that the Gallican Church in France provided a moderate alternative model to papal absolutism, one that was never realized, however, as con- BOOK REVIEWS 643 fessional boundaries hardened and as French clergy expressed their resentment of royal control. Indeed, this hardening of confessional boundaries is one theme that runs through a number of the essays. Kenneth Austin examines the little-known figure of Immanuel Tremellius, an Italian Jew who converted first to moderate or evangelical Catholicism in the 1530’s, and then to an undoctrinaire or “lukewarm” Calvinism. It was not so much that Tremellius changed his views, but rather, a changing world induced him to find the religious space in which he could comfortably live and work. Likewise, in her examination of the Imperial Court under Maximilian II, Elaine Fulton explores the notion of “aulic Catholicism,” of a reformed Catholicism that would preserve Habsburg control over their territories from papal power-mongering, and that was based on the principles of moderation and compromise over non-essentials. An interesting parallel to the Gallican church examined by Alain Tallon suggests itself here, although, unfortunately, it is not pursued. The French Catholic theologian René Benoist, in his efforts to bring religious literature (including a French Bible) to ordinary people, hearkened back to reforming trends in pre-Reformation Catholicism, but increasingly ran counter to the Catholic Church’s response to the Protestant Reformation. Any discussion of moderate voices in the Reformation must inevitably focus on the Church of England and its legendary via media. Louise Campbell argues that the moderation of Matthew Parker, Elizabeth I’s first Archbishop of Canterbury, was not seeking a middle position between Rome and Geneva, but rather strove for compromise among Protestants over adiaphora,“things indifferent,” which were neither commanded nor forbidden by scripture. He and his supporters were animated by a concern for order and stability, and by a humanist ethos which valued persuasion over coercion. Ethan Shagan further illuminates some of the difficulties and dilemmas posed by this notion of adiaphora. In things indifferent, is the final arbiter the magistrate or the individual conscience? If the former, does not compulsion belie the Protestant message of Christian liberty? If the latter, where is the possibility of a comprehensive national church? There was a whole range of positions on this issue among both Puritans and “Anglicans.” This fact brings us once again back to the reality that “moderation” is very much in the eye of the beholder. Michael Riordan examines the careers and beliefs of four mid-level functionaries in the English Royal Household in the mid-sixteenth century. Their careers indicate that not only was there room in the religious middle, but that even in the dramatic religious shifts of mid-Tudor England, monarchs of various religious persuasions were prepared to employ these men in important posts, despite their sometimes opposing religious views. Nor would it be accurate to picture these men purely as political opportunists of no real religious conviction, who were willing to conform to whatever was demanded of them in order to maintain their power and positions. In an intriguing suggestion, he states that men such as these may have been more the norm than the exception, a reality which has been obscured by the nature of Reformation polemics. 644 BOOK REVIEWS Graeme Murdock examines yet another variant of moderation in looking at Protestants in Habsburg-controlled Royal Hungary in the early seventeenth century, as a number of Calvinist theologians and clergymen reached out to Lutherans to form a united front against an increasingly potent reformed Catholic Church. They were, however, rebuffed by their Lutheran counterparts, with the result that Hungarian Protestants were increasingly on the defensive “in the face of a rising tide of persecution from both the monarchy and Catholic hierarchy” (p. 195). In his conclusion, Mark Greengrass returns to the varieties of moderation, and to their fundamental ambiguity. Indeed, it is difficult or impossible to come up with any overarching conclusions regarding moderation in Reformation Europe, precisely because of the varieties and ambiguity of that moderation. Although it is put as such nowhere in this volume, moderation in the age of the Reformation may perhaps best be defined negatively, by what it was not, rather than what it was. This book is a very welcome addition to the growing historical literature on Reformation Europe which looks beyond the polemics and the admittedly abundant episodes of intolerance and religious violence to what was very likely a majority of people who, although they thought of their opponents as damnable heretics, were content to leave their judgment to a higher authority. University of Calgary MARK W. KONNERT Renaissance Florence: A Social History. Edited by Roger J. Crum and John T. Paoletti (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2006. Pp. xviii, 674. $150.00.) This welcome collection of essays on the society and art of Renaissance Florence serves as an up-to-date and accessible introduction to much current research in the field.While it is not perhaps a “social history” of Florence as its subtitle says—at least as that term was understood by an older generation interested above all in demography and in social relations, structures, and institutions—Renaissance Florence does tackle many of the historical questions touching the relationship between art and society that emerged from that and other earlier research. The titles of the six themes into which the essays are divided give a clear sense of the book’s general approach and subject matter: “The Theatre of Florence,” “The Public Realm,” “Relatives, Friends, and Neighbors,” “Men and Women,” “The Spaces of the Spiritual,” and “Across Space and Time.” The eighteen authors whom Roger Crum and John Paoletti have invited, after careful consideration one infers, to participate with them in this collaborative study of “the dynamics of space in a Renaissance city” (Introduction) are an interesting mixture of a few old and rather more new faces. By my count, precisely half of the twenty contributors are art historians by formal training. It is, however, the express intention of the editors, them- BOOK REVIEWS 645 selves both art historians, that their book “not privilege either history or art history as a mode of understanding the past” (p. 13). Their collaborators certainly display a willingness (inevitably more thorough-going in some cases than in others) to ignore as increasingly irrelevant the traditional frontiers between these two historical disciplines, to the advantage of the book as a whole. In a short review of a large collection of essays by many scholars, it is simply not possible to mention every author by name, let alone to discuss each essay’s contribution. This is a pity. A number of the younger scholars present the results of important new research with admirable clarity; several of the senior contributors manage in exemplary fashion to pull together the research and reflections of a lifetime, while also suggesting how the subject they are discussing might be developed in the future. The overall quality of the essays is high, then, as one would expect of a collection that has been meticulously planned and painstakingly executed by its editors.“Space” in all of its physical and metaphorical meanings is, however, a slippery concept, as the contributors themselves make clear (in a few cases not necessarily intentionally, it must be said), and despite the efforts of the editors some of the essays, among them several of the best, deal more or less literally or even perfunctorily with the book’s leitmotiv. Even allowing for the difficulty of shaping any collection of essays, and the dynamic and malleable nature of this one’s subject matter, the division into six themes does not always work. Friendship and the spaces of amicizia, for example, are discussed in “Men and Women” rather than in the preceding section to which one might have thought they belonged; and anyway the theme of friendship deserved more attention in a book on the society and art of Renaissance Florence. If the most internally coherent subdivision is perhaps that devoted to “the spaces of the spiritual,” readers of this Review will also find novel and stimulating information and insights throughout this excellent book. Florentine painting, sculpture, and architecture remained above all religious art in this period; the society that produced and paid for that art saw itself as quintessentially a sacred, Catholic, one. The editors have succeeded in their ambitious intention to “provide a richly textured sense of how art was used at all levels of society” (p. 15), and they and their collaborators deserve our gratitude and thanks for their efforts. Monash University F. W. KENT Fire in the City: Savonarola and the Struggle for the Soul of Renaissance Florence. By Lauro Martines. (New York: Oxford University Press. 2006. Pp. xvi, 336. $30.00.) Lauro Martines, prolific author of books on the Italian Renaissance, has turned his elegant and lively prose to a violent, puzzling period of Florentine history at the close of the fifteenth century, the years leading up to Girolamo 646 BOOK REVIEWS Savonarola’s public execution and burning for heresy and treason in 1498. The fire-and-brimstone Dominican friar, transplanted from his native Ferrara, who rocked Florence with his sermons, springs from these pages in all his troubling contradictions.Was he above all a political reformer, bent upon nurturing the more inclusive government of the Great Council instituted after the 1494 exile of the Medici? Or is he best viewed as an uncompromising moral reformer, just as harsh in his attacks on simony in the Church as he was on sodomites and the opponents of his favored Council? For Martines he was all of the above and more, for in this sympathetic treatment, we find Savonarola characterized also as a compassionate and forgiving man. The book follows recent scholarship that no longer views Savonarola as an isolated religious demagogue or proto-Protestant martyr. Rather it places him squarely within the political and religious context of Florence in those confusing times following the Medici’s departure and the French invasion of Italy. As Donald Weinstein argued earlier, the seductive mythology of Florence as the New Jerusalem ultimately absorbed Savonarola while fuelling his eloquence. Florentines initially embraced Savonarola’s purifying message of regeneration only to turn against him when his enemies obtained enough political muscle to condemn him to death by hanging, literally lighting the fagots beneath his gallows. But in stressing the Florentine context, the author missed the opportunity to evaluate rising currents of apocalypticism and millenarianism that added urgency both to Savonarola’s message and to its reception. Opposition to him from within the Dominican Order and other branches of the Church was motivated not just by anger at his fulminations against simony and corruption, but by important theological debates over what constituted true prophecy and thus whether Savonarola could be the prophet he and his followers claimed. Stress on politics overshadows these broader dimensions. The book adopts a modern novelistic style with short chapters and eyecatching subheadings like “Vile Bodies,” “Rome Closes In,” “Kicked and Punched,” and “Terrorist.” Without sensationalizing, Martines savors the dramatic detail in interrogations, confessions under torture, executions, and so forth. For effect, at one point he even inserted in block quotes a fictional letter he wished the Florentine Priors had written the pope in Savonarola’s defense (p. 204). The book provides a basic bibliography, but no real footnotes, a pity in a subject that has evoked so many opposing views. Perhaps Oxford University Press is aiming toward a literate but not scholarly audience, for the skimpy ten to twenty endnotes for each chapter, unmarked and keyed to phrases in Martines’ text, are effectively useless. Serious readers would prefer notes that chart a path through the maze of conflicting scholarship on Savonarola and his place in history. Martines worries that in our post-9/11 environment people might summarily dismiss Savonarola as a ranter and provocateur and miss the fascination of this remarkable man. The rationalism to which Martines appeals in his assessment notwithstanding, Savonarola also reminds us that public per- BOOK REVIEWS 647 suaders, drawing upon the explosive combination of religious fervor and political commitment, have had an enduring place in European culture, even in Florence, heart of the Renaissance. The book, while not based on original research, makes lively reading and draws us toward the enigma of Savonarola. Having enticed readers into the drama of the past, one hopes they will want to delve further. University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill MELISSA MERIAM BULLARD The Medici State and the Ghetto of Florence: The Construction of an Early Modern Jewish Community. By Stephanie B. Siegmund. [Stanford Series in Jewish History and Culture.] (Stanford: Stanford University Press. 2005. Pp. xxvi, 624. $70.00.) Stephanie Siegmund’s book is all about how to think about the Italian ghetto.Traditionally, the ghetto is the arch-symbol of the Jewish policy of militant Counter-Reformation Italian Catholicism. A reinvigorated Church instituted a new and tougher policy on Jews in Italy, who were either expelled or else stripped of many rights and privileges and confined to ghettoes. Indeed, the physical image of the ghetto, precisely because of its physical-spatial nature, served as the visible representation of the mix of restrictions and disabilities to which Italian Jews were now subject, as well as a symbol of the fear and loathing in which they were now formally and officially held.This notion of the ghetto is a staple of Early-Modern Italian Jewish historiography. It is a model with which Siegmund takes issue. She argues that one cannot speak of an undifferentiated “Italian” ghetto. While ghettoes were in fact created in almost all the communities where Jews were permitted to reside, they did not come into being in the same way, and their effects upon the local Jewish communities were not identical. Indeed, in the case of Florence, to which her study is devoted, the creation of the ghetto caused the creation of the Jewish community, both in the sense of bringing together disparate Jews living in Florence who had lived lives basically separate from one another and often from Jewish practice, as well as in the sense of a formal kehilah, which was formed by the state-ordered concentration of the seven hundred or so Jews living in Tuscany into a ghetto constructed by the state, and by the statesponsored formation of organs of self-goverment. The Early-Modern kehilah being an organization dedicated, among other things, to promoting and even coercing religious praxis and halakhic conformity, it was a supreme irony that the Medici Christian state was responsible for pushing its Jews to live “orthodox” Jewish lifestyles. Or perhaps it was not ironic at all, when one considers, as Siegmund does, the mix of factors that led to the decision of the Tuscan government to expel its relatively small number of Jews from their places of residence throughout the (soon to be) Grand Duchy and to concentrate them in a ghetto in Florence 648 BOOK REVIEWS in 1570-71. Traditional historiography has concerned itself with the question of why it was that Cosimo I, the famous ruler of Florence who created both the Tuscan state and its feared and efficient administrative machinery, changed his longstanding pragmatic and even benevolent policy toward Jews in Tuscany in the late 1560’s, when he began to conform to Papal policy and compelled the Jews to wear a segno (a yellow “o” on the hat) and move into a ghetto. The traditional explanation is that it was all about Cosimo’s need for Papal and Habsburg recognition for his title as Grand Duke of Tuscany, which signified his superiority to the Dukes who ruled other parts of Italy. Or it had to do with the religious fervor excited by the war against the Turks which culminated in the Battle of Lepanto. Or to the death of his wife, who had been friendly to Jews, or the marriage of his son and co-regent to a Jew-hating wife. For Siegmund, none of these explanations suffices. She prefers to see the creation of the ghetto as an act of bureaucratic reorganization of a sector of the population of the Tuscan state, a piece of the overall reorganization of society and institutions that constituted Early-Modern state-building. Siegmund describes this process as one that “required that communities and social networks and social hierarchies be dissolved, subordinated, co-opted, and restructured. . . . But there was also an effort to build and support social networks— communities—which were themselves closely linked to institutions that were supportive of or dependent on the Medicean regime” (p. 29). Thus, the creation of the ghetto is not to be viewed as simply an arbitrary act of a capricious or cynical ruler, but as part of a broad trend of the reorganization of society carried out by a centralizing bureaucracy to create a new political and social reality, a Jewish analogue, in fact, to the Catholic parish. Readers of Siegmund’s richly-detailed study discover, among other things, that Tuscan Jews were dues-paying members of Catholic guilds; that Jews often lived in towns and villages as individuals, without any kehilah, and liked it that way; and that the creation of the ghetto and a Florentine kehilah had a disastrous impact on the power of Jewish women. The ghetto, whatever the specific circumstances of its creation, represented order at the expense of liberty. But Siegmund has made it more difficult to generalize indiscriminately and facilely. The Johns Hopkins University DAVID KATZ Missioni in terra di frontiera. La Controriforma nelle Valli del Pinerolese. Secoli XVI-XVIII. By Chiara Povero. [Bibliotheca Seraphico-Capuccina, Volume 77.] (Rome: Istituto Storico dei Cappuccini. 2006. Pp. 442. €30.00 paperback.) The first comprehensive study of the Jesuit and Capuchin missions to the Waldensian valleys of Piedmont between 1560 and 1768, this doctoral thesis (University of Turin) will interest scholars working on missions or on French BOOK REVIEWS 649 or Italian church history during the Old Regime. It is carefully documented and relies on sources from a wide variety of archives. Still, more thorough revision (tighter organization and more focused arguments) could have resulted in a book with even broader appeal. The introduction mentions a variety of themes raised in other studies of early modern missions and religious culture; yet the author’s own historiographic position is difficult to identify. The book’s first part introduces the geographic and political context of the missions, characterizing the valleys above Pinerolo (Val Chisone,Val Pellice,Valle Angrogna, and Val Germanasca) as a frontier region—the book’s publication was subsidized with funds from an Italian border studies project. More attention to the concrete economic and social context of this Alpine region would have permitted the author to link this part more clearly to the following ones. Part two outlines the key religious and political events in the valleys during the period under study between the reigns of Emanuel Filibert of Savoy (1553-1580) and Charles Emanuel III (1730-1773). Following the arrival of the first Jesuit missionary,Antonio Possevino, and a brief war (1560-61) aimed at converting the valley inhabitants by force, Emanuel Filibert decided to grant religious toleration to the valleys’ inhabitants, creating a “ghetto Alpino” that was also a mission field for the next two centuries. The first Capuchin missionaries arrived in the late 1590’s, and in 1630 Pinerolo and half of the area was acquired by the French crown. Missionary activity increased as the French began to subsidize conversions and replace Piedmontese clergy with French.They also established a Jesuit mission at Fenestrelle and a Jesuit college at Pinerolo. Pro-French Savoyard rulers launched new military campaigns in the valleys under their control in 1655 and 1684, without success. Not long after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, Victor Amadeus II renounced the French alliance, extending his 1694 edict of toleration to the entire area, which was reacquired by him in 1713. During the early eighteenth century, missionary policy shifted, focusing on educating and providing assistance for new converts, increasingly through the work of state-supported secular clergy. The diocese of Pinerolo was created in 1748, eight years after the establishment of a catechumen house there to serve new converts. The book’s final part discusses different methods used by the missionaries: preaching and processions, religious instruction, religious controversies and printed accounts of debates, and other strategies of conversion. Povero’s work confirms the thesis that by the early eighteenth century the missionaries were so successful in involving secular clergy in their activities that the position of the regular clergy themselves was eventually undermined. She also concludes that state support was a fundamental element for the success of the missions, while admitting that such success was limited (as indicated by the continued presence of Reformed communities in the valleys). Unfortunately, this book refrains from a detailed examination of the concrete local Alpine context. Constant migration between valleys and the plains, ongoing commercial transit, the configuration of bi-confessional communities, and local politics: these issues are occasionally mentioned in passing, but their relation to missionary activities and the process of conversion is not closely studied.We learn that almost all Catholic converts came from the Val Chisone.Why 650 BOOK REVIEWS there? Greater attention to the lives of valley inhabitants themselves could provide some clues. West Virginia University MATTHEW VESTER La legazione di Ferrara del Cardinale Giulio Sacchetti (1627-1631). Edited by Irene Fosi with the collaboration of Andrea Gardi. Two volumes. [Collectanea Archivi Vaticani, 58.] (Vatican City: Archivio Segreto Vaticano. 2006. Pp. lvi, 341. €75,00.) In 1598 the Duchy of Ferrara, which theoretically had always been subject to papal authority, passed to direct papal rule when the last Este duke in the direct line died without heirs. The papacy left local governmental structures and elites intact, but exerted overall control though a legate. In December 1626 the papacy appointed Cardinal Giulio Sacchetti (1587-1663) to be legate to Ferrara. From a Florentine Republican family which had moved to Rome in the 1530’s, Sacchetti obtained a doctorate in canon and civil law from the University of Pisa, became a priest, and entered the papal diplomatic service as a supporter and creature of the Barberini family. He was papal nuncio to Spain (1624-1626), where he developed a strong antipathy against Spanish influence in Italy, and was made a cardinal in 1626. He entered Ferrara on April 15, 1627, and left on July 12, 1631. Legations normally lasted three years; the outbreak of plague caused the papacy to extend his term. Papacy and legate communicated by letter: Rome sent instructions and the legate responded on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis. These two substantial volumes contain 1,531 letters exchanged between the legate and the papacy, the latter usually represented by the cardinal secretary of state, Francesco Barberini, the nephew of Pope Urban VIII. After his legation was finished, Sacchetti was legate to Bologna, 1637-1640, and might have become pope in 1644 or 1655, had Spain not vetoed his candidacy. As legate Sacchetti exercised both spiritual and temporal authority. As spiritual ruler he oversaw the bishops of the nine dioceses in the Ferrara state, heard appeals from those convicted of violating canon laws, and conceded matrimonial dispensations. But temporal government was far and away the larger part of his job. As governor of every aspect of the Ferrarese state, the legate had the power of appointing and removing public officials, punishing rebels, convoking local assemblies, and doing anything else necessary for the maintenance of public order and papal authority. In practice, he worked with communal organs, feudatories, and local elites; he often mediated. The responsibilities were heavy; Sacchetti had to ensure that there was enough grain, oil, and wine for the people in a time of scarcity. He had to provide for the security of the state and to fend off threats. This was no easy task, as Venice continually violated Ferrara’s sovereignty and interfered with Ferrara’s access to the Po River. The letters provide valuable information about the issues and practices of governance of a small state in the old regime. BOOK REVIEWS 651 The legate also represented papal interests and papal diplomacy in northern Italy. The dominating crisis in Sacchetti’s tenure was the War of the Mantuan Succession. On December 25, 1627, Vincenzo II Gonzaga, Duke of Mantua and Monferrato, died without heirs. Carlo Gonzaga-Nevers, of a cadet branch of the family and supported by France, dashed to Mantua and seized power in mid-January 1628. The Habsburgs, who had a long and strong connection with the Gonzaga through feudal ties, marriage alliances, and military service, preferred a candidate from another cadet branch. The succession mattered a great deal to both France and Spain, because Mantua and Monferrato were strategic military positions in northern Italy. The Viennese Habsburgs sent an army to enforce their choice, and the War of the Mantuan Succession broke out. Since Mantua bordered Ferrara, the papacy and the legate were very concerned. Sacchetti strengthened Ferrara’s defenses, while the papacy determined on a policy of neutrality, to the point of forbidding its subjects from enrolling in the armies of the warring parties. Other consequences of the war were far worse: German imperial troops invading the Mantovano brought the plague with them. Refugees carried it to Ferrara, and Sacchetti had to deal with the sick and the dying. In July 1630 imperial troops sacked the city of Mantua. Gonzaga-Nevers and his family fled to Ferrara, which gave them asylum. Several hundred letters deal with the war and its consequences. The correspondence also sheds light on the family nature of papal government at this time. Several members of the Barberini held high positions in the papacy, and Sacchetti, their supporter, sent letters to them as well as to the cardinal secretary of state. A network of clientage bound everyone together. Sacchetti was simultaneously the faithful, prudent, and honorable servant of the pope, and competent administrator, diplomat, and mediator. Irene Fosi, with the help of others, has edited letters 1-1,000, and Andrea Gardi letters 1,001-1,531. Each has contributed an excellent introduction, Fosi on Sacchetti and his relations with Rome and the Barberini, and Gardi on governing Ferrara. Each letter has a headnote indicating the contents and is fully annotated. The texts of some very routine letters have been omitted. Volume Two also lists and summarizes the contents of 214 bandi, i.e., proclamations by the legate dealing with all kinds of issues. The two volumes lack a register of letters but do have an index of names and places. A CD ROM accompanying the volumes provides a register of letters and, even more useful, the texts of all the letters along with a search engine. One may type a word, phrase, or subject, and get a list of the letters containing the word, phrase, or subject. Clicking on the letter brings up the text, which can be printed. The CD ROM also includes an historical glossary with short biographies and identifications of the many individuals and references in the correspondence. This repeats and summarizes the material found in the notes to the printed letters. Finally, the CD ROM reproduces the text of Sachetti’s Memoria di quanto s’è fatto per preservazione dalla Peste a Ferrara .... ne gli anni 1629, 1630, 1631 (Ferrara, no date, but 1631), in which he described the measures taken against 652 BOOK REVIEWS the plague. The CD ROM is very useful. The only criticism is that the two volumes lack a sleeve for the CD ROM; hence, it can easily become detached from the volumes. This is an admirable edition. It provides a great deal of information about the government of Ferrara, the Mantuan war, papal diplomacy, and the personal rule of the Barberini clan. Readers are indebted to the Istituto di Studi Rinascimentali di Ferrara and the Province of Ferrara for supporting the project, and the Archivio Segreto Vaticano press for publishing the volumes. Above all, Fosi and Gardi merit the highest praise for their immense and fruitful labors. University of Toronto Emeritus and Chapel Hill, North Carolina PAUL F. GRENDLER Creating the Cult of St. Joseph: Art and Gender in the Spanish Empire. By Charlene Villaseñor Black. (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press. 2006. Pp. 259. $60.00.) This study assembles a wealth of material pertaining to the rich topic of the devotion, cult, and imagery of St. Joseph in Mexico and Spain during the sixteenth through eighteenth centuries. Its theme is gendered discourse vis-à-vis mandates of the Spanish Inquisition and societal aims of Spanish Habsburg and Bourbon rule. Chapters Two through Six are accordingly entitled “Love and Marriage,” “Happy Families,” “Mothering Fathers,” “Men at Work,” and “The Good Death.” Of particular merit is the discussion (pp. 151-156), appended to Chapter Six, emphasizing the association of Joseph’s patronage with charitable institutions in Spain and Mexico and with the Spanish monarchy and state. These observations invite comparison with Barbara Mikuda-Hüttel’s substantial study (1997) of Joseph’s contemporary cult in Habsburg Austria, but Mikuda-Hüttel’s work is not cited. Indeed, Black’s book, based on her 1995 doctoral dissertation, is significantly flawed throughout by inattention to groundbreaking literature on Joseph’s cult and imagery published during the past decade and by her exclusive treatment of Hispanic Baroque textual, devotional, and pictorial features as innovative, or isolated, without consideration of analogous developments both earlier and elsewhere in the Christian world. Other sources not cited that bear meaningfully on points Black raises and that provide prototypes and contextual interpretation for the visual motifs and compositions she addresses include books by Jörg Traeger (1997) and Brigitte Heublein (1998). Importantly so, too, do two 1996 books by Joseph F. Chorpenning, O.S.F.S., and mine of 2001, studies cited but without consideration of the facts, images, and observations there presented, as in our subsequent publications. Of further help to Black’s anchoring of cult evidence and liturgical data would have been compendia published by Tarcisio Stramare, O.S.J. (1997), and Roland Gauthier, C.S.C. (1999, 2002). Germane are publications by Sheila Schwartz and Christopher C. (not “Dean” as on p. 248) Wilson; BOOK REVIEWS 653 Black’s bibliography lists only their dissertations. A reference to Barbara von Barghahn’s penetrating essay in Chorpenning (ed.), (1996) (pp. 57-89) would have bolstered Black’s discussion (pp. 30-33) of the association of Joseph with the Mesoamerican god Tlaloc. Most problematic is Chapter I:“Creating the Cult of St. Joseph,” along with repetition of this phrase in the book’s title. Black ignores both John W. O’Malley’s recent cautioning (2000) against too readily viewing the Council of Trent as a watershed for devotional and pictorial change and the abundant archival evidence of Joseph’s call to the altars in pre-Tridentine Italy (Stramare 1997,Traeger 1997, and especially Wilson 2001 and my articles of 1996, 2002, 2004, and 2005). Black instead clings to the notions that Joseph’s cult was unimportant prior to Trent (pp. 23-24, 33) and El Greco’s altarpiece (Toledo) among the first St. Joseph altarpieces (pp. 35-36), whereas I have identified some forty Joseph altarpieces in Renaissance Italy. (Her most recent reference to El Greco dates from 1961; major exhibition catalogues [1982; 2003] are ignored.) Joseph was invoked in early Cinquecento Italy as civic and personal protector, his cult having been promoted through the policy of Sixtus IV and Franciscan Observantist preaching. That “Sixteenth-century efforts to promote St. Joseph in Europe were centered in the monastic world”(p. 24) is inaccurate. Black neglects Bernard of Clairvaux’s signal contribution to Josephine doctrine and liturgy. Bernard established Joseph’s role in exegesis and defined his standing in grace as Mary’s fore-ordained Davidic spouse, first witness to the Incarnation, and recipient of God’s word, gifts seen by the early sixteenth century as the basis of Joseph’s crown of martyrdom and capacity as intercessor. Twelfth-century commentators paved the way for articulation during the fourteenth of Joseph as protector of the Church. These themes correlate with features of the saint’s evolving cult iconography and might have been purposefully considered in analyses of the pictures Black examines. The motif of Joseph sleeping (cf. pp. 51-52), for example, represents his reception of God’s word in the three dreams (Matthew) where Joseph is instructed on the actions that constitute his role in Redemption. Following Bernard, it is juxtaposed by Duccio and others with the Flight into Egypt. To what extent could depictions of Joseph’s dream “contain at their core anxiety about [Spanish and Mexican] women’s uncontrollable sexuality” (p. 53)? Often-repeated broad statements are frequently supported in the endnotes by only one or two examples and sometimes none at all. Spanish seventeenth- and eighteenth-century writers are most frequently invoked anonymously in the text although identified and generously quoted in the notes. The notes reveal that a large proportion of passages adduced for the author’s generalizations derive from a single source:Antonio Joseph Pastrana (Madrid, 1696). A long list of relics (p. 150) is virtually unannotated. Undoubtedly valid comments (pp. 3, 155) on Joseph as exemplum for converts—a topic recently broached by Christopher Wilson, Chorpenning, and myself—are entirely unannotated. 654 BOOK REVIEWS Discussions of religious texts lack clear differentiation between which constitute theology and which devotional embellishment. Pictorial subjects are designated as “scenes,” without distinction between narrative depiction and iconic images. Comparisons among works of art are drawn with little regard to their respective original contexts, i.e., to whether they were designed as emblems to accompany Josephine texts, as Joseph altarpieces, or for some alternate purpose. Such limitations necessarily restrict the utility of the observations offered. For example, a St. Anne altarpiece (Pl. 5) includes Joseph as a lateral saint, thereby honoring him, but Black discusses the painting as a “Holy Family” (a problematic title, being anachronistic to the period) that reflects Joseph’s (perceived) marginalization and, extraordinarily, as if it depicts narrative (pp. 35, 62-3). Iconic images where Joseph stands holding the Child were doubtless designed for cult contexts but instead are ingenuously interpreted as “Holy Family scenes” where “Mary disappears completely” (p. 75). Black interestingly assembles numerous Hispanic representations of the Marriage of the Virgin and Death of Joseph, discussing the former in terms of Spanish imposition of a European marriage model on Mexico. The subject’s signification of Joseph’s status and invocation “sponsus Mariae,” association with celebration of his feast, typology as the union of Christ and His Church (Antoninus), and recurrent employment for Joseph altarpieces (in Italy, by 1504) should also be acknowledged as should Augustine’s citation of Mary and Joseph as marital exempla. Black’s discussion of Joseph’s death pays close attention to accounts in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Spanish texts; readers may wish to know their source in the account incorporated by Isidoro Isolani in his monumental scholastically-argued Summa (Pavia, 1522), a significant text mentioned once, as a “scholarly essay” (pp. 24-25), but a source also for the Venetian miracle Pastrana recounts (p. 145), debate on Joseph’s age (cf. p. 25), and articulation of Joseph’s resplendency, crown of martyrdom, and role in proselytizing (see Wilson 2001). Especially worthy is Black’s elaboration, focused on Spanish Baroque texts emphasizing Joseph’s nurturing, on the adaptation of Marian imagery for Joseph. Association of this characterization with Joseph’s venerable invocation “nutritor Domini” bears observation, as specifically recommended in Wilson, 2001, p. 201, n. 43. Eight color and eighty-four black-and-white reproductions are included (“fig. 71” [p. 126] should read “fig. 72”), but numerous pictures discussed are not illustrated. Observation (p. 140) that a Death of Joseph by a Pedro Orrente follower shows Christ administering last rites cries out for illustration or at least a plate reference. Exclusion of reproductions of so many paintings Black has diligently assembled was likely prompted by cost concerns. Whether the choice to tailor the material to gender issues was an editorial decision or her own, this organization obscures Black’s research. A straightforward chronological, comparative analysis of the many Spanish and Mexican texts consulted, including overview of prior scholarship spelling out the substantial contribu- BOOK REVIEWS 655 tions of José Carlos Carrillo Ojeda, M.J., and others (acknowledged in the notes) would have been welcome. Houston, Texas CAROLYN C.WILSON L’Université de Caen aux XV e et XVI e siècles. Identité et représentation. By Lyse Roy. [Education and Society in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, Vol. 24.] (Leiden: Brill Academic Publishers. 2006. Pp. xii, 314. $161.00; €119.00.) Lyse Roy’s dissertation on the University of Caen was defended in 1994 at the Université du Québec à Montréal. She has wisely taken several years of reflection and additional research before turning it into this comprehensive, well-organized book that duly acknowledges the work of her predecessors but also intelligently exploits a surprisingly large amount of archival material: matriculation rolls, procès-verbaux of meetings, financial records, and contemporary accounts by two sisteenth-century professors. The book has a short but informative English introduction and strategically placed French summaries throughout its five chapters. The town of Caen, located in Basse Normandie near the English Channel, owed the founding of its university (1432) to the short-lived English occupation of Normandy at the end of the Hundred Years War. In 1452, the same year that King Charles VII ordered a reform of the University of Paris by the Norman cardinal archbishop of Rouen, he “recreated”the University of Caen to bolster the allegiance of Normandy and to assure trained civil servants. Although Caen never achieved the rank enjoyed by the universities of Paris and Orléans nor even the lesser rank of Angers, Bourges, or Valence, it survived the opposition of Paris and the ambivalent stance of the powerful Parlement of Rouen to serve Normandy well, despite several periods of institutional decline that ultimately sapped its autonomy. Chapter 1 recounts the university’s English and French origins and reviews the vicissitudes in its history over fifteen decades. Chapter 2 lays out its institutional structure (statutes, faculties, colleges) and the intellectual matters of curricula, degree requirements, and faculty publications. Chapter 3 fulfills the requirements of modern university history with intelligent prosopographical analyses of students and teachers and their social status. Chapter 4 deals with the love-hate relationship with the city and citizens of Caen that all medieval universities faced vis-à-vis the cities in which they functioned. In an attempt to gain urban support for the privileges and exemptions that were essential to its survival, the university tried to integrate the city into its ceremonies, theatrical presentations, and festivals. Chapter 5 depicts its dramatic decline after significant numbers of professors and students converted to Calvinism, ending with the Parlement of Rouen’s 1586 reform of the university that reimposed Catholicism and introduced Jesuit pedagogy. The author seems to appreciate the latter but to deplore the discipline that accompanied 656 BOOK REVIEWS it. This reader has to wonder if, in those times, the pedagogy could have succeeded without the discipline. The lengthy Appendix I provides the 1515 library inventory of 278 books apportioned between theology (39%), law (29%), medicine (13%), arts (12%), and other books (7%). This list would have been much more valuable had an attempt been made to identify these books more specifically by their printers and dates of publication—information that was not beyond reach, since donors’ names in most of the books have been identified at the Bibliothèque nationale de France. (Like many books originating in North America, this book continues to employ the former name of this institution.) Appendices II, III, and IV consist of charts of the matriculation registers, the geographical provenance of students (almost exclusively restricted to the seven Norman dioceses and the neighboring diocese of Le Mans), and the number of professors who took the statutory oath in general assemblies from 1457 to 1533. Lyse Roy frequently deplores the loss of university autonomy that came with the reforms imposed by the Parlement in 1521 and 1586, but it is hard to see how the university could have otherwise survived. Her book provides more information about litigation, salary levels, and theatrical productions than some readers may want to know, but it is an important and welcome addition to the history of French universities. Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies JAMES K. FARGE Women and Poor Relief in Seventeenth-Century France.The Early History of the Daughters of Charity. By Susan E. Dinan. [Women and Gender in the Early Modern Word.] (Burlington, Vermont: Ashgate Publishing Company. 2006. Pp. x, 190. $89.95 paperback.) Susan Dinan’s interesting examination of the early history of the Daughters of Charity, founded by Vincent de Paul and Louise de Marillac in 1633, contributes to the growing body of research on the Catholic Reformation which demonstrates that although “there were moves toward more clearly articulated confessionalization and social discipline, no one top-down and orderly process occurred in the Catholic Church” (p. 1). As one of the most active and largest female groups to emerge during the Catholic reform movement, it is surprising that the work of the Daughters of Charity has until now been subject to relatively little scholarly scrutiny. To Dinan’s credit, she has succeeded in unearthing, collating, and analyzing a variety of rich sources that reveal a confraternal group that provided the inspiration and model for the most prevalent forms of Catholic social engagement in the modern world. Dinan argues that the Daughters of Charity owed their success to the willingness of their founders to reinterpret Tridentine regulations to meet the needs of society, ever more subject to growing poverty, and to answer the spir- BOOK REVIEWS 657 itual need of women to express their religious faith through active projects of compassionate charity that mirrored the example of Christ. This latter aspect of the Daughters’ origins and ethos does not receive sustained attention as the book focuses principally on the strategies employed by their founders to ensure that the group remained a confraternal and uncloistered association and on the struggle to cope with the complexities of administering an organization that grew rapidly to 1660 and even more quickly thereafter (forty-two establishments between 1638 and 1661). But these are extremely valuable concerns, in terms of understanding the ability of Louise de Marillac to negotiate contracts, maintain even relations with higher and local clergy and with hospital administrators, and to train talented Daughters to assume positions of leadership within satellite communities. Within both, Dinan makes several important observations, of which the most significant is the suggestion that the reason why the Daughters remained unenclosed and free from public opprobrium was that they did not, ultimately, pose a threat to the Church itself. Their work in hospitals, galleys, and schools was driven by an identity of modesty and piety, and they provided indispensable social and evangelical services to the Catholic Church’s mission and to the Catholic monarchy. The Daughters also, indirectly, provided greater opportunities for aristocratic women to participate in the piety of social welfare, for they evolved partially from de Marillac and de Paul’s realization that social prejudices and hierarchical assumptions would not permit high-born women to deliver food or nurse the sick in poor districts. Clearly, therefore, while bowing to some contemporary social rules, the founders innovated by providing, for the first time, an environment and structure that simultaneously shielded and liberated women who sought to live their vocation within the world.The relationship between the aristocratic Ladies of Charity and the Daughters merits further investigation, for the former provided the favors of patronage that supported the Daughters’ activities, but Dinan’s research should provide the basis to develop such a challenging project in the future. Finally, there are occasionally frustrating editorial errors in this book which are beyond typographical and actually result in the omission of factual information (p. 80, 87).This is a pity in a book that will serve as an essential reference to the study of the “feminization” of the Catholic reformation in France. National University of Ireland, Galway ALISON FORRESTAL Adrien Gambart’s Emblem Book (1664): The Life of St. Francis de Sales in Symbols. A facsimile edition with a study by Elisabeth Stopp. Edited by Terence O’Reilly. (Philadelphia: Saint Joseph’s University Press. 2005. Pp. xii, 385. $60.00.) We must be grateful to Saint Joseph’s University Press for making more easily accessible Adrien Gambart’s delightful, but relatively understudied, collection of fifty-two meditational emblems (one for each week of the year) 658 BOOK REVIEWS which ingeniously weave together conventional emblematic images with allegorical interpretations relating specifically to the life and virtues of St. François de Sales. This work was originally printed in 1664 (at the expense of the author) for the use of the nuns of the Order of the Visitation, founded forty years earlier by St. François de Sales. Gambart, who was initially educated by the Jesuits, joined St.Vincent de Paul’s recently formed Congregation of the Mission after being ordained in 1633, and became confessor to the nuns of the Order of the Visitation in the Paris convent of which Vincent de Paul was superior. It must be said, however, that the presentation of the work here is somewhat odd. Gambart’s original version is carefully structured so that the first page of each “emblem” comprises an engraved image incorporating a Latin motto, preceded by a heading and a French title identifying the particular virtue of St. François de Sales to be later discussed in the text, and followed by a French couplet relating to the engraved image. The facing page and two subsequent pages contain a prose “Eclaircissement” interpreting the association between the image and the virtuous life of the saint, followed by a set of general injunctions to good behavior entitled “Fruits et pratiques.” Unlike other meditational emblem books which habitually include a meditational section with each emblem, Gambart instead groups his meditations together in a twohundred page “Seconde partie” following the collection of emblems. What we are given here, however, is a heavily adapted and truncated version of Gambart’s work, in which, extraordinarily, the whole of the important meditational “Seconde partie” is suppressed, and a much shortened version of the fifty-two emblems is given, each reduced from four to two pages only. The first page reproduces in facsimile the engraved image and French title of the original, though for no obvious reason the French couplet is deleted. The facing page gives an English translation of the title, a brief description of the engraving (hardly necessary, since the engraving is reproduced), and the French couplet, plus an English translation. Thereafter Gambart’s “Eclaircissement” and “Fruits et pratiques,” which originally occupied three pages, are replaced by ruthlessly slimmed-down English summaries entitled “Text” and “Points” occupying a mere half-page.This heavily adapted version is then followed by a proper full facsimile of the original, but again the “Seconde partie” is omitted (although its existence is noted in the facsimile title page, and its index included in the preliminaries). The result is a curious compilation in which some material is duplicated and other material excised. The fifty-two engraved figures are all unnecessarily reproduced twice, while the important two-hundred pages of meditation are excised from both edited and facsimile version. The volume includes a brief section of critical apparatus. The short foreword by Terence O’Reilly (who is also responsible for the English translations of Gambart’s French couplets) explains how this edition is based on an unpublished study of Gambart by the late Elisabeth Stopp. Thereafter follows a short BOOK REVIEWS 659 essay by Elisabeth Stopp explaining how Gambart’s work was closely connected with the process of beatification of François de Sales which was happening in Annecy and Paris between 1656 and 1658, culminating in the actual canonization in 1665, the year after Gambart’s volume was published. The last part of the preliminaries comprises a study by Agnès Guiderdoni-Bruslé situating the work in its broader emblematic and christological contexts. In short, while the editors are to be praised for making accessible this very interesting seventeenth-century Catholic meditational emblem book, it must be said that the editorial principles they have adopted are curious. University of Aberdeen ALISON SAUNDERS Gilles Caillotin, Pèlerin: Le Retour de Rome d’un Sergier Rémois, 1724. Edited and presented by Dominique Julia. [Collection de l’École Française de Rome, no. 356.] (Rome: École Française de Rome. 2006. Pp. iv, 395. €48.00 paperback) Gilles Caillotin, a master artisan of serge wool cloth, left his home town, Reims, on foot, June 17, 1724, as a pilgrim, first to the tomb of Charles Borromeo in Milan, then to the Holy House of Loreto near Ancona on the Adriatic, finally by way of Assisi to Rome. After spending seventeen days in Rome fulfilling pilgrim devotions, he returned to Reims, taking notes as he traveled. Eventually, about 1732, he composed an account of this pilgrimage, to which he added several other regional pious journeys, apparently working from notes he himself had taken, but also augmented with passages copied from other travelers’ guides. His account of the Reims-to-Rome trip and his stay there has been lost, but the return has survived. This return trip is here elegantly edited by Dominique Julia, and lavishly furnished with an introduction, copious footnotes providing detailed explanations of places, persons, and events mentioned in the text, and an extensive Postface, where she discusses eighteenth-century pilgrim society, the characteristics of the text itself, and other details of Caillotin’s experiences of journey, hospitality, and fellow travelers, as well as a sketch of his person and character. For a modern reader it seems a formidable trip: more than 1000 miles on foot, averaging seventeen miles a day going and twenty returning (included crossing the Alps). He had his hat and cape, his bag of essentials, and his staff, but little else.We learn where he stopped each day (a nice map of the itinerary is included)—usually staying in pilgrim hospices, but sometimes in the open air—and we hear about other pilgrims from all over Europe, as well as about a few shady characters that he met along the way. With difficulty, he recovered his papally blessed rosary, with holy medals attached, that had been stolen by one pseudo-pilgrim. We hear about other travelers (he was almost never alone): AWOL soldiers, professional pilgrims (one making his seventh trip to Rome to fulfill other people’s vows), pilgrims already at Compostela, a 660 BOOK REVIEWS drunk priest, a Protestant minister supposedly on his way to Rome to adjure his heresy. Julia tells us, based on pilgrim hospice records, that eighteenth-century pilgrims were mostly young men, though both younger and older men and even women (usually with families) were also on the road. Caillotin was then a typical pilgrim: twenty-seven years old, single, coming from a lower middle-class family of cloth artisans, pious, and, we would have to conclude, tough, though perhaps afflicted with scrofula. His passport (included with twenty-three other illustrations inserted into this journal) along with other Reims archival documents reveal that he was baptized December 1, 1697, was about five-feet-six-inches tall, never married, and died at forty-nine, July 11, 1746. Caillotin was close to Jesuits in Reims, perhaps educated by them, and was a member of a Jesuit Marian congregation of sergiers, which probably facilitated his finding lodging. He was a fervent Counter-Reformation Catholic, disdainful of superstitious practices but enthusiastic about relics, indulgences, and other forms of Catholic piety. He also shows himself a fierce anti-Jansenist and a stout supporter of the pope. Since he stayed in Rome with a Christian Brother (one of the first followers of St. John Baptist de La Salle), he may also have attended their school in Reims. Here is an admirable fragment of eighteenth-century European culture and religion viewed from below, thus complementing more elite accounts from above. Saint Louis University FRANCIS W. NICHOLS Catholicism and Community in Early Modern England: Politics, Aristocratic Patronage and Religion, c. 1550-1640. By Michael C. Questier. [Cambridge Studies in Early Modern British History.] (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2006. Pp. xxii, 559. $80.00.) The title of Michael Questier’s important and ambitious study is an undisguised tribute to John Bossy’s seminal book on The English Catholic Community (1975). Bossy’s account of the first generations of postReformation Catholic history told a story of “seigneurialization,” and of increasing political quietism, as the generally conformist attitudes of the gentry triumphed over the grander ambitions of their seminarist chaplains. It was also a largely “internalist” narrative, with English Catholicism treated sociologically as a species of religious nonconformity. Questier’s interpretation differs on both scores: he questions the notion of a retreat from political engagements on the part of Catholic elites, and at the same time presents a model of a Catholic “community” fundamentally structured and determined by its interactions with the rest of English society. The point of entry for these explorations is a single aristocratic family: the Brownes of Cowdray and Battle in Sussex (raised to the peerage in 1554 as BOOK REVIEWS 661 Viscounts Montague). The main protagonists are the first Viscount (d. 1592), a broadly moderate and conformist figure (though not, Questier argues, as moderate or conformist as he has been painted), and his grandson the second Viscount, a much more overt nonconformist, convinced that his infant son had died because he allowed him to be christened in the Church of England. However, this is no conventional family history. The main focus is an analysis of what Questier usefully terms the Brownes’“entourage”—a variegated cluster of kin, client, and ideological connections—and particularly the activities of the family’s chaplains. One of the central, provocative insights of the book is that English Catholicism in this period is best understood, not as a uniform entity, a gathered Church of right-minded individuals, but as “a conglomeration of social attitudes, political allegiances, parish frictions, marital links and patronage/clientage conections” (p. 66), and that it may have been viewed that way by contemporaries. There is thus a move away from a historiographical concern with popular Catholicism/conservatism and its alleged postElizabethan decline, and our attention is directed instead toward the political discourses and engagements of the seminarist clergy and their lay patrons. It has to be admitted that parts of this story make for hard reading. The client and kinship networks being described are of their nature dense and complex, and the intra-Catholic clerical controversies in which the Brownes’ chaplains and many others engaged were both lengthy and labyrinthine. Readers hoping to learn about the devotional texture of post-Reformation Catholicism will be disappointed. Questier is not much concerned with the inwardness of Catholic belief and practice (characterized from time to time as “the clacking of rosary beads”), concentrating instead on political and ideological positioning. But it is worth persevering. For the real achievement of the book is to sharpen our understanding of why “Catholicism” remained into the seventeenth century a source of intense political discussion and anxiety. The right to speak on behalf of the Catholic community (which is what the interminable debates between Jesuits and “hierarchicalist” Catholics largely amounted to) was a significant political asset, holding out promises of tangible support to the early Stuart monarchy. Catholic hierarchicalists of the sort patronized by the Brownes engaged in a “high-stakes game,” assimilating their own anti-Jesuit rhetoric to the growing swell of anti-Puritanism in Church and State. Puritans were not simply being paranoid in identifying the homologous character of Laudianism and popery. Similarly, high levels of active royalism among Catholic gentry in the Civil War were no anomaly, but “the logical culmination of the Catholic struggle for respectability and acceptance ever since the mid-Elizabethan period” (p. 507). In persuasively asserting a place for “Catholic history’’ in the central narrative of post-Reformation politics, Questier has done scholarship a major service. University of Warwick PETER MARSHALL 662 BOOK REVIEWS The Succession, Bye and Main Plots of 1601-1603. By Francis Edwards, S.J. (Dublin: Four Courts Press. 2006. Pp. 327. $65.00.) This is, in effect, the second volume in Francis Edwards’ overview, principally from printed sources, of the conspiracies of the Elizabethan and Jacobean period leading up to the Gunpowder plot. This book’s purpose is, in effect, to tell the story of James’s accession through the series of alleged conspiracies that occurred in opposition to James’s candidacy. In itself this is a valid and valuable approach.This is, however, a volume written with a specific agenda, derived from some of the polemics of specific Jesuits of the period, principally Robert Persons. Its intention is to prove yet further Edwards’ thesis that the Gunpowder conspiracy was a fiction, a device invented and pursued by Sir Robert Cecil, in the sense that Cecil already had “form.” This is a much-debated topic, and there are several quite entrenched positions associated with it. Edwards, it has to be said, is now in something of a minority here. There are real problems with an account of Cecil merely as a kind of universal spider, though this is not to say that he did not prove extremely effective in the furious maneuvering which preceded James VI’s accession to the English throne. The whole subject (sometimes referred to as plotterology) has, in fact, a tendency to look a little unreal. All too quickly, historical descriptions of this or that conspiracy seems to become bogged down in mind-numbing complexity and ever more unlikely narratives and apparently ridiculous detail. (It is almost inevitable that the none-too-stable Arbella Stuart, who figures prominently in some of the chapters here, would have employed an embroiderer called “old Freake.”) Nevertheless, it is clear that there is much to be said for an investigation of late-sixteenth- and early-seventeenth-century politics from the perspective of how contemporaries identified and described conspiracies. Edwards is in fact quite right that the official accounts of the plots exposed to the world by the late Elizabethan and early Stuart regimes cannot be taken merely at face value; or, at least, raise as many questions as they answer. And, indeed, John Bossy’s extraordinarily brilliant recovery of the Throckmorton conspiracy (Under the Molehill [Yale University Press, 2001]) shows how intractable and unlikely sources can be mined in order to narrate the series of events leading up to the exposure of that particular attempt to advance Mary Stuart to the throne, and also to get as close as possible to what “really” happened, as opposed to what the regime claimed had happened. At the same time, it is useful to interrogate the rhetoric employed in both revelations and denials of plots. Any narrative of the period taken directly and without adequate context from official exposures of plots and plotting tends merely to reproduce the, on-the-surface, hysterical rendering of events pumped out by one faction or interest group against another. If one can get away from the idea that the discovery of plots (real and imagined) was merely and only an aspect of the machinations of an evil and persecutory regime, directed against the innocent, and instead read off from them aspects of the political culture of the period (taking just as seri- BOOK REVIEWS 663 ously the allegations that there were puritan conspiracies against monarchical authority as well as Catholic ones), then we have a means of talking sensibly about the range of political meanings with which contemporaries invested Catholicism as well as a series of positions within the Church of England. Queen Mary College University of London MICHAEL QUESTIER London and the Restoration, 1659-1683. By Gary S. De Krey. [Cambridge Studies in Early Modern British History.] (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2005. Pp. xx, 472. $100.00.) Gary De Krey’s study of the politics of Restoration London—which follows his 1985 account of the city in the age of Revolution and party, 1688-1715— investigates in rich and fascinating detail how in the national political crises of 1659-60 and the early 1680’s London citizens mobilized, or tried to mobilize, popular protest to defend their rights and privileges and, ultimately, to overthrow their rulers: and how in the period in-between they constantly struggled to manipulate the city institutions to achieve national political ends. It complements an existing body of work on elite and popular politics in the capital, most notably Tim Harris’s London Crowds in the Reign of Charles II and Mark Knights’s Politics and Opinion in Crisis, 1678-81, but its breadth and detail over the period provide new and significant insights. Much of the work consists of a rich and lively narrative of civic politics and its interaction with national politics throughout the period. Its account of the events of the winter of 1659-60, focussed on the actions of London’s civic leaders, provides a welcome new perspective which helps to suggest how the actions of General Monck, so often regarded as the skillfully enigmatic architect of the Restoration of Charles II, are perhaps more accurately to be seen as an uncertain response to the changing balance of power in the capital. After the Restoration De Krey ably traces the establishment of the hegemony of an artificially narrow Anglican royalist elite, and the challenge to it posed by the forces of London dissent, a challenge that grew in strength and bitterness after 1667. He shows how during the third Dutch war of 1672-1674 and its aftermath the dissenting community of London coalesced into a civic opposition which could work in co-operation with country MPs to confront the Anglican royalist revanche led by the Earl of Danby with growing confidence at both corporation and national level. The book’s account of the events of 1679-1683 covers ground that is now fairly well trodden, but it provides fresh levels of complexity to the story, emphasizing quite how narrowly the government did escape popular insurrection in London in response to its assault on civic government. As this suggests, De Krey unsurprisingly stresses the importance of religious division within London’s politics, and his detailed prosopographical 664 BOOK REVIEWS analyses of those involved in civic affairs show a strong relationship between the dissenting community and the Whig leadership, while his analysis of ‘Whig’ and ‘Tory’ space in the crisis of 1679-1683 finds a close link between the topography of urban Whiggism and that of dissent and Reformed Protestantism. But Londoners were also used to a significant degree of autonomy from national government, and of involvement in governing their own affairs through popular institutions, and were as a consequence accustomed and committed to representative government in a way that few other of their countrymen were. De Krey shows how their determination to defend it played a strong role in their responses to civic and national political crisis. He dissects the rhetoric of the Whig resistance in London during the crisis of 1679-1682 to show up the extent to which it deployed the languague of consent, and he argues that the crisis, and specifically the shrieval election of 1682, drove Whig writers to make more explicit existing assumptions about the primacy of common hall, and therefore of the people’s will. Much of De Krey’s book is concerned with the development of the increasingly formalized polarities which defined Restoration politics. In underlining the real division that the crisis of 1679-1683 engendered in London political society he contributes to a debate concerning the degree to which “party” should be used as an organizing category in the politics of the period, and concludes firmly that “in London parties were first generated in 1679-1682, as these communities struggled to reform or to retain the institutions of the Restoration Settlement; and saying so is neither anachronistic or whiggish” (p. 292). He finds Tories and Whigs speaking different political languages, and furthermore, his occupational and social analysis of the leadership of both parties defines the parties sociologically as well: Whigs were led by merchants with international interests, contacts, and perspectives;Tories were more insular in perspective,“more focused upon and more protective of the national and local institutions in which Restoration Londoners pursued domestic trade and found stability.” One of the book’s most stimulating themes is the divisions among the leadership of the civic opponents of government. But while the caution of the very substantial merchant leaders of Whiggism was challenged by a much more committed element, De Krey points out how difficult it could be to draw a clear line in the sand between legitimate political and legal action and the unlawful when government seemed to undermine its own legitimacy and authority. On the one hand, he argues that in an increasingly polarized society, moderation became a commodity in scant supply; on the other he shows that the room for moderate argument seemed itself to be diminishing alarmingly, as the stakes in the conflict grew. History of Parliament, London PAUL SEAWARD BOOK REVIEWS 665 John Locke, Toleration and Early Enlightenment Culture: Religious Intolerance and Arguments for Religious Toleration in Early Modern and ‘Early Enlightenment’ Europe. By John Marshall. (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2006. Pp viii, 767. $110.00.) This book is about much more than its title would suggest. A history of ideas written very much in the tradition of the Cambridge school (the author studied under both Mark Goldie and John Pocock), Marshall’s account is predictably big on context—some 466 pages of it! A powerful piece of scholarship—brilliantly conceived, breath-taking in scope, and rich in historical insight—it will be of interest to a wide variety of scholars across a range disciplines (history, religion, political science, philosophy, history of science, literature, and queer studies), and to both Europeanists and Americanists alike. Marshall’s premise is that in order to understand why the likes of Locke, Bayle, and other members of the emerging republic of letters of the 1680’s and 1690’s came to develop the particular arguments they did in favor of religious toleration, we must first understand both the practices of and intellectual justifications for religious intolerance that they were reacting against. Marshall takes us on a fascinating journey, where he first unfolds the horrors of religious persecution in early modern France, Piedmont, England, Ireland, and the supposedly tolerant Netherlands, before proceeding to unpack patristic, medieval, and early modern arguments for why those who refused to adhere to the state religion could not be tolerated. Heretics and schismatics were viewed as intrinsically seditious and treasonous (because disobedient toward authority), unable to control their lusts (and thus probably libertines and sodomites), and willfully obstinate; unless compelled to conform or silenced for good, they would spread their poison, or so it was feared, and threaten both the salvation of ordinary people’s souls and the peace of the commonwealth. Thus like a cancerous growth, heresy had to be removed to prevent the whole body from becoming diseased. Although there were some early proponents of greater religious toleration—and Jews and Muslims, because not Christians, were freed from the charge of heresy—arguments for intolerance, as endorsed by both Catholics and Protestants, held the day; indeed, most western European societies were becoming less tolerant as the seventeenth century progressed. Early Enlightenment advocates of toleration, therefore, had to show that persecution was not the solution, and that heretics did not pose the threat they were alleged to, were not the monsters they were represented as being, and were arguably not even heretics. In the process they challenged conventional views on religious orthodoxy and providentialism and helped usher in new ways of thinking about the natural and supernatural worlds. Marshall has a wonderful discussion of the relationship between tolerationist thought and the growth of scientific rationalism. He is also superb on the international context (for intolerance and tolerance alike), as well as on the relationship between Protestantism and toleration, and between toleration and arguments in defense of the right to resist. 666 BOOK REVIEWS For all its brilliance, the book is too long (dare I say it?) and would have benefited from further editing. And for all his contextualization, Marshall remains an intellectual historian primarily interested in the ideas of intellectuals. For example, no mention is made of the Monmouth rebels of 1685, who proposed a remarkable degree of religious toleration which they would have been prepared to extend even to papists once they had overthrown the Catholic king. Although William Penn’s advocacy of toleration under James II is touched upon, no reference is made to Henry Care’s stunning proposal of 1687 that an act be passed enshrining liberty of conscience as “part of the Constitution of this Kingdom; the natural Birth-Right of every English-Man.”1 I was also left wondering about the practical impact of the ideas whose origins and development Marshall so skilfully explores. Was religious toleration, when it eventually did arrive, born of principled commitment to enlightened ideals or due instead to more pragmatic political considerations? These might be big questions and beyond the scope of his study, but surely Marshall might have allowed himself some speculations in a concluding chapter. Nevertheless, such remarks should not detract from what is a remarkable scholarly accomplishment. Marshall’s book is surely destined to become a classic. Brown University TIM HARRIS 1715: The Great Jacobite Rebellion. By Daniel Szechi. (New Haven: Yale University Press. 2006. Pp. xvi, 351. $50.00.) The Fifteen, perhaps the last feasible rebellion aimed at restoring a Catholic dynasty in Britain, has been overshadowed by the Forty-Five: since 1900, I count only two previous books devoted to the first; very many to the second. Charles Edward Stuart’s quixotic gamble captured imaginations in generations shaped by Romanticism, but Jacobite studies are increasingly dominated by hard realists, by archival scholars, and by serious students of the counterfactual. Of this school, Szechi is one of the leaders. Much of the interest of the Fifteen, he argues, arises not from dramatic battles lost and won, but from the historical sociology of the subject:“how and why the Jacobite communities of the British Isles and diaspora generated this rebellion and what innate social and cultural dynamics within those communities trended the rebellion towards its eventual outcome.” The social constituencies of rebellion were often religious. In England, the leaders were often Catholics: although some 2 per cent of the population overall, they were concentrated in certain areas, like the North West, where they might have reached 25 per cent. In Scotland, the Tories “were routinely Jacobite,” normally because they were Episcopalians (between 30 and 40 per cent of the population in 1715), attentive even to the signs and portents that linked this 1 H[enry] C[are], Animadversions on … A Letter to a Dissenter (1687), pp. 36-37. BOOK REVIEWS 667 world with the next. Despite the domination of the book by military detail, it is clear that the Scots Jacobites took the decision to rise since they were “inspired by their conviction that God was telling them to seize the moment.” When a Scots Jacobite army finally managed to march south down England’s west coast, its leaders were dismayed to find that the only local recruits were Catholics rather than the High Churchmen they had expected. One of the most interesting of Szechi’s arguments concerns the “hidden uprising” within the Fifteen, the rebellion of Northern English Catholics:“There really was a secret Catholic army lurking in the remote fastnesses of northern England, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.”Yet this thesis is not further developed. Jacobite psychology soon takes second place to Szechi’s account of strategic questions. Explaining how Scots Jacobites took the final step to armed rebellion, Szechi argues,“A deep unreality had taken hold of the community,” their frenzy talked up by mutual encouragement. In England, Szechi downplays the extent of Jacobite support. The Nonjurors he estimates at less than one per cent of the population; of backing within the Tory party, “Image manifestly overmatched substance.” Having begun the book with some attention to religious denominations as the catchment areas for political allegiance, the larger part of Szechi’s discussion leaves that theme to present a detailed picture of political resentment, high-political manoeuvre, and military events. “English Jacobitism by 1715 arose primarily from dissatisfaction with broad economic, social and political developments since 1688.” Yet this book is chiefly about the Scottish dimension. Szechi, a notable historian of Scotland, is most at home in the Scottish archives, and perhaps takes the Scottish rising as his yardstick: by comparison, what actually happened in Northern England is disparaged. The English Jacobites emerge from this account as disastrously under-prepared; they sought “a convenient miracle” in the form of foreign intervention. Ireland merits even less attention. It remains for other historians to recover the potential for revolution in those two countries, had a substantial invasion force dedicated to a Stuart restoration actually landed. But for Scotland and for the European dimension, Daniel Szechi has produced undoubtedly the standard modern study. University of Kansas J. C. D. CLARK The Origins of Sectarianism in Early Modern Ireland. Edited by Alan Ford and John McCafferty. (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2005. Pp. x, 249. $90.00.) This volume (the product of a University College Dublin symposium organized by Ford and McCafferty and held against the backdrop of those fateful days in Belfast, April 1998) ostensibly explores the early modern period for roots of sectarian hatred in modern Ireland. It contains a balanced mix of 668 BOOK REVIEWS approaches (political, religious, social, literary, and intellectual), but surprisingly concentrates less on violence and struggle than perceptions of “otherness.” In many ways, it documents the symbiosis, co-existence, and downright inextricability that developed between the invented traditions of Catholic and Protestant communities in post-Reformation Ireland. In still others, it nuances subtle sectarian atavisms that persist in Anglo-Irish historiography of the earlymodern period—albeit with the laudable goal of proving which side was more ecumenical. Ford’s introduction begins with powerful analogies of religious violence in modern and early modern Ireland serving to trace sectarianism back to a time “when Protestants and Catholics began to live apart and create parallel communities, institutions, cultures and histories” (p. 3). What follows is a useful overview of themes broken down structurally into sections on periodization, terminology, struggle and coexistence, the sacraments, and education respectively. Suspicious of the simplistic interpretation of constant struggle in Ireland since the Act of Supremacy down to the restoration of power-sharing, Ford points to a real rise in tensions after 1580. Here he alludes to recent attempts to situate the origins of religious strife in Ireland outside the northern archipelago and within the wider European process of confessionalization. The allusion is, of course, to the lead article by Ute Lotz-Heumann, whose book on confessionalization in Ireland dramatically changed the dimensions of the pitch. Here, for the first time in English, she sums up her comparative arguments on the periodization of the Reformation/Counter-Reformation in Ireland as part of a broader European social phenomenon. McCafferty follows with a narrative prosopography of the Church of Ireland episcopate under the early Stuarts. He reveals how limitations, such as poverty, failed reorganization, and royal neglect relegated the Irish bishops to the “B”league. Faced with lay apathy, most found themselves struggling to cope in fairly dismal conditions. Alternately, Tadhg Ó hAnnracháin examines a Catholic episcopate which, though accepting Trent, remained politically divided over loyalty to the Stuarts and willing to compromise with royal Protestantism in the struggle against Puritanism. In an interesting exposé, David Edwards charts the transmigration of ordinary English Catholics to Ireland in search of greater toleration, much to the chagrin of the authorities on both sides of the Irish sea. Two submissions by Ford and Marc Caball compare literary productions composed to establish a stronger sense of identity among sectarian communities. While Ford focuses on the evolution of a unique, almost proto-nationalistic trend in the Protestant historiography of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, Caball detects echoes of a bardic elite which sang the praises of “Irishness” above religion. Mícheál MacGraith considers a similar problem among the Catholic political theorists Conry and McCaughwell, who compromised when faced with a divergence of their religious and political allegiance to the crown. By employing a microhistorical analysis of a land dispute between Catholic residents of Drogheda and local BOOK REVIEWS 669 Franciscans, Brian Jackson undermines the myth of a monolithic Catholic culture in early modern Ireland, demonstrating the clash of self-interested land tenure and Tridentine missionary zeal. Finally, Declan Downey borrows theoretically from H. C. Erik Midelfort and Otto Brünner to investigate the creation of a myth of racial and religious purity by aristocratic writers caught in a crisis of the ancient Hiberno-Norman nobility. The collection concludes with some chronological afterthoughts by John Morrill, juxtaposing the twin themes of sectarian strife and accommodation which lie at the heart of the volume. Clearly, however, it is the latter theme which dominates throughout.Those seeking detailed accounts of Cromwellian slaughter and rapine are likely to come away disappointed, but exactly that is the charm of this collection. In the spirit of the Good Friday Agreement and prosperity, which spelled an end to the Troubles, accommodation wins out, as the authors go out of their way to belie an image of life in early modern Ireland as poor, nasty, brutish, and short. In many ways, then, the overarching message of accommodation is as upbeat as the heart of the Celtic Tiger. Enterprise Ireland can surely find great solace therein and, it now appears, even the Rev. Dr. Ian Paisley (p. 11) might finally agree. National University of Ireland Maynooth DAVID LEDERER The Correspondence of Wolfgang Capito, Volume 1: 1507-1523. Edited and translated by Erika Rummel, with the assistance of Milton Kooistra. (Toronto: University of Toronto Press. 2005. Pp. xlii, 285. $95.00.) This is the first volume (of three) of an exceptionally valuable project. Wolfgang Capito was a protagonist of many of the most crucial events of the first years of the Reformation. As a member of the circle of Basel humanists, he was an eager admirer of Erasmus, sharing the older man’s ambivalent attitude to Luther.While he admired the Wittenberg reformer he had misgivings about his radicalism and the schismatic tendency of his teaching, and he was consequently cautious about committing himself wholeheartedly to the evangelical cause. This cautious, and many would argue equivocating, nature, became an enduring characteristic of Capito’s career, earning him Luther’s contempt and a measure of distrust among colleagues and collaborators even after he had definitively chosen for the Reformation. This reputation for deviousness was only reinforced when Capito accepted a position with Albrecht of Brandenburg, Luther’s adversary in the Indulgences controversy, but a thoughtful patron of scholarship and the arts. In Mainz Capito made much of his role in pointing Albrecht toward restraint in his responses to Luther; yet he also seems not to have decided whether his interests were best served by pursuing patronage opportunities within the old church or throwing in his lot with the reformers. In the event he did both, first securing a benefice in Strassburg through Albrecht’s intervention, then defending it against other claimants by converting to the Reformation. Capito was a considerable scholar, and seemed 670 BOOK REVIEWS destined for a leadership role in Strassburg. But indecisiveness proved his undoing. It is hard to decide whether this reflected a principled rejection of narrow partisanship, or an innate desire to conform his views to those of interlocutors of very polarized views. In fact, his desire to minimize points of conflict was a consistent thread in his relations with very disparate groups, whether this be his role in the debates between followers of Luther and Zwingli, his reluctance to persecute Anabaptists, or in his tendency toward (even advocacy of) Nicodemism. So this is an interesting career at the center of affairs. The letters published here cover the period up to the decisive move to Strassburg in 1523. Capito’s letters were first gathered as a corpus by Olivier Millet, and listed, but not published in extensio, in his monograph of 1982. A number are of course known from their appearance in the published correspondence of Luther, Erasmus, and other contemporaries. For this edition Rummel has therefore followed the sensible principle of publishing the letter in a complete version, where the text is not accessible in a modern edition (broadly, published since 1900). Other letters are noted in their correct chronological sequence, with a summary of the contents. The value of the collection is greatly enhanced by the inclusion of material published as the prefaces of Capito’s works; these are especially revealing of Capito’s network of friendships, and the relationships to which he aspired. It is interesting, for instance, to range his preface to a collection of Luther’s writings (letter 19) alongside his dedicatory letter to Albrecht of Brandenburg (32).The valuable account of the Leipzig Disputation (31) is very different in its treatment of Eck to the dismissive tone of the preface to Karlstadt’s attack on Eck in 1518 (15a). In summary, this is a most interesting beginning to an enterprise that will, when complete, shed fascinating light on the dilemmas and opportunities that faced a generation caught up in the turbulence caused by the Reformation controversies. University of St. Andrews ANDREW PETTEGREE Nails in the Wall: Catholic Nuns in Reformation Germany. By Amy Leonard. (Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press. 2005. Pp. xiv, 218. $45.00.) This study, which is based on a Georgetown University dissertation, offers a valuable addition to the increasingly extensive literature by American scholars on Reformation Strasbourg, whilst at the same time mediating between German-language and English-language scholarship on the history of latemedieval and Reformation nuns in the south-west of the German lands. Its title is derived from Luther’s remark that woman is “like a nail driven into the wall,” hammered into the structure of the household:“For just as a snail carries its house with it, the wife should sit at home and look after the affairs of the household. . . .”The notion that women are the bedrock of society because of their central and essential role in the domestic sphere, but with no part to play BOOK REVIEWS 671 in the world outside, sits uneasily alongside Amy Leonard’s findings regarding the Strasbourg nuns whom the city council, which from 1524 was committed to the Protestant cause, allowed to continue throughout the sixteenth century. By contrast with other parts of Europe, for example England, the three Strasbourg convents which were saved from secularization got away with ignoring the city council’s rulings and found that their persistence in Catholic religious practices was hardly ever seriously challenged. They changed in function, and could justify themselves as “useful” in a secularized society, no longer in terms of their contribution to the spiritual well-being of the city through their prayers, but primarily through their role as schoolteachers who were supposedly preparing young women to be the “nails in the wall” of Strasbourg family life (but many of whom rebelled and stayed in the convents as nuns). Chapter one provides an excellent overview of the social history of the preReformation Dominican convents in Strasbourg and discusses their place in the observant reforms of the fifteenth century, making good use of German scholarship which has not been extensively reported in English publications. Chapter two addresses contemporary theories of the utility of convent life (not just concentrating on Strasbourg), which was often held up as an example of “selfishness” and as morally offensive, and establishes a bridge between these positions and the views of social historians such as Max Weber, Lyndal Roper, and Bernd Moeller.With chapter three the author moves on to a narrative of the Protestant Reformation as it struck Strasbourg in 1524, with particularly good material on the financial arrangements for former nuns that were sanctioned by the city council. One of the reasons that so many Catholic nuns were allowed to stay on in the three convents was their connections with the wealthy merchant, patrician, and noble families of Strasbourg who had great influence with the council; this issue is addressed in chapter four and is supported by a useful appendix of the names of nuns. Chapter five moves on in time to consider the Counter-Reformation in Strasbourg, considering the impact of the Augsburg Interim of 1548, the Peace of Augsburg (1555), and the reforms imposed by the Council of Trent. Chapter six provides a coda with its account of the disastrous charges against St. Nicholas-in-Undis in 1592, which centered around extravagant accusations of sexual debauchery (quite graphically described) and led to the closure of this convent. These investigations are underpinned by the recognition that the impact of the Reformation on monastic life differed enormously from country to country, and from place to place: what we are given here is the special case of the city of Strasbourg. Certain points, though, such as the gendered role of women in establishing a position for themselves where the Protestant authorities would compromise and look the other way, may have more general validity in Reformation Germany (although perhaps not in other countries). The author’s stress is on the social history of the religious institutions, with attention to their family attachments, to their relationship to the city council, to the Dominican order, and to the financial arrangements made for the nuns.What is 672 BOOK REVIEWS lacking is an analysis of the evidence for their spiritual life. The huge financial support which late-medieval townspeople provided for the convents was not simply based on a concern for their daughters’ material welfare; it was founded above all on the value of the nuns’ prayers for society as a whole.The renewal of the liturgy was always a central aspect of the late-medieval reforms, just as important as enclosure and poverty, and one is left wondering whether this component was simply no longer present in the Protestant era. It would surely be too simple to say that the “usefulness” of the nuns’ prayers to the urban community came to be replaced by the nuns’“usefulness” in providing education for young women. St Edmund Hall Oxford NIGEL F. PALMER Undankbare Gäste: Abendmahlsverzicht und Abendmahlsasschluss in der Reichsstadt Ulm um 1600: Ein interkultureller Prozess. By Oliver Kaul. [Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Europäische Geschichte Mainz, Abteilung für Abendländische Religionsgeschichte, Band 202.] (Mainz: Verlag Philipp von Zabern. 2003. Pp. viii, 358.) Kaul closes this publication of his 2001 dissertation invoking T.S. Eliot’s conception of culture in Notes towards the definition of culture, first published in London in 1948. Nor does that reference jar at the end of Kaul’s study of those who did not participate in the Lutheran Supper in Ulm in the first quarter of the seventeenth century. Kaul proposes, following David Sabean’s formulation of an “Abendmahlsproblematik” (Power in the Blood: Popular Culture and Village Discourse in Early Modern Germany [Cambridge University Press, 1984], Chapter 1) to show that early modern subjects were not “acculturated,” but that their interactions with “Machthaber” were more often compromises (p. 3).To do so, he draws upon 436 cases of “Abendhmahlsverweigerung” from Ulm. In his treatment of those cases, Kaul accepts, foremost, Eliot’s division of “elite” from “lower” culture into two discrete entities. In his organization of materials, Kaul accepts as well Eliot’s sense of culture as something apart. The first chapter after the introduction treats the “demographic, social, economic, and political situation” in Ulm and the state of the “lutherischen Ulmer Kirche” at the beginning of the seventeenth century. The following two chapters—3, on prescriptions for the practice of the Supper, its reception, and the categories given for refusing to partake, and 4, on facets of the “Abendmahlproblematik in Ulm”— hardly refer back to the earlier chapter. Kaul’s conclusion reaffirms the divisions, between elite and subject, between material and religious, that he asserted in his introduction. At the heart of this book are a handful of quite wonderful close studies of individuals who refused to partake of the Lutheran Communion (Chapter 4, BOOK REVIEWS 673 passim). While Sabean is clearly the inspiration for Kaul’s attention to blacksmiths, their children and spouses, soldiers, and others who could not get along with their neighbors, Kaul does not share Sabean’s delight in all that these individuals reveal about early modern social dynamics. Nor does he share Sabean’s attention to the contingencies of Herrschaft and the play of idiosyncracy in relations of power.Thus, in his discussion of the motives given for refusing to participate, Kaul presents a series of pie diagrams which treat those individuals in aggregates that override their idiosyncracies. The first, for example, represents percentiles of the general reasons individuals gave for refusing: unclear (9%), religious (18%),“sonstige Gründe”(12%), godless life (19%), uncertainty on the part of authorities if the person was avoiding the Supper (10%), envy, hatred, and enmity (32%). His handling of his evidence is not informed by work on the complex dynamics of courts, the play of personal faith and communal integration in the liturgy, the rich body of work, also inspired by Sabean’s, on social outcasts, and the ways individuals were marginalized. At the center of this book is a conceptualization of “culture” that more than twenty years of scholarship has challenged, rethought, and refined, in part, at least, inspired by Sabean’s insights, not only that those who refused to partake are worthy of study, but that the liturgy is an extraordinarily complex site culturally, socially, theologically, and personally. University of Wisconsin–Madison LEE PALMER WANDEL Jews and Heretics in Catholic Poland: A Beleaguered Church in the PostReformation Era. By Magda Teter. (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2006. Pp. xxxvi, 272. $ 65.00.) Scintillating her audience, Dr. Teter begins with her own life experiences in Poland and the history of her Jewish people and other “heretics” in postReformation Poland. Pages of murals, drawings, and sketches spill out at the very beginning to entice the reader to discover what secrets Polish history holds for the Jews and other “heretics.”Also in the beginning is an excellent, helpful map of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, which readers familiar with Eastern Europe will appreciate. Teter’s dramatic, illustrative start includes the murals from the Cathedral of Sandomierz, her hometown. These include various scenes of torture and murder of Catholics by not only Jews, but Tartars, Swedish Lutherans, other Protestants, “Schismatics (Eastern Orthodox),” “Pagans,” and “bad and disobedient Catholics.” She also includes a portrait from a 1737 work which discusses the execution of a Polish woman for conversion to Judaism in Krakow in 1539. Sources for Teter included numerous archives in Kraków, Rome, and the Vatican. (Some archives remain closed, including that of the Sandomierz Cathedral.) Her interest in illustrations fascinated me since she acknowledges not having found large numbers of anti-Jewish texts. I have found that visual 674 BOOK REVIEWS images and oral traditions often precede, exist simultaneously with, and continue long after certain texts are popular. Images and oral history also reach a larger audience. My peasant ancestors, from the diocese of Tarnów, were illiterate for centuries but learned of Jews and others in non-written ways. The ancestors I knew were not anti-Semitic, but they were extremely pro-Church. This is one of Teter’s themes, that the Jews were only one of only many groups that concerned the Roman Catholic Church. In my opinion, throughout most of history, people in political power have viewed religion as an essential unifying force, and therefore, usually, have seen a need for a state religion. As a frequent student and, later, Fulbright Researcher in Poland, I saw this continue at least until Communism fell in Poland, because the Catholic Church was seen as almost a political party, the only “bloc” to oppose and engage the Communist Party. Teter is correct in distinguishing the power of the Polish Church from that in many other European countries, especially given the power of the Polish nobility, which by the eighteenth century was basically a “republic of the Magnates.” Some nobles attracted to Protestantism returned to the Church to keep their political power.The Polish triangle of power, a system of checks and balances, included the Church, the nobles, and the monarch. She also correctly stresses the ebb and flow of the privileges of Jews depending on the vicissitudes of the Polish state at the time. She makes the good point that the Church would co-operate with other powers in so far as the outcome would be good for the Church itself. While Teter focused on religion in large part, more emphasis could have been placed on the Jews, not only as theological “deviants” but also as political, economic, intellectual, and social threats. At different times in Polish history, Jews would have been perceived as much more threatening than the other “outsiders.” Also needing more attention is the great role the Jesuits played in the education of post-Reformation Poland and in the winning back of the nobility. Overall,Teter only gives the Jesuits eight pages, which does not give their accomplishments full credit. Half of the book contains a glossary, extremely extensive notes, and a selected bibliography of archival as well as published sources, and an index. The notes are especially helpful, drawn from an extremely wide range of literature, often broadened by Teter’s own penetrating analysis. St. Louis School of Pharmacy HELENA J. CZOSNYKA BOOK REVIEWS 675 Late Modern Small-Town Martyrs and Murderers: Religious Revolution and Counterrevolution in Western France, 1774-1914. By Edward J. Woell. [Marquette Studies in History, 1.] (Milwaukee: Marquette University Press. 2006. Pp. 292. $32.00 paperback.) Work on the Revolt of the Vendée has been hindered by the absence of enough rigorous local studies at one level and, at another, a failure to put the revolt and its resonances into a broad enough time frame to allow for perspectival breadth. No doubt sensing these omissions, Edward J. Woell’s short monograph attempts to remedy them both, and he has usefully selected the small town of Machecoul (the site of the beginning of the revolt over conscription on March 11,1793) as his template.What happened that day was the catalyst for “unparalleled repression” (p. 16) in western France of a character that plagued official commemoration of the Revolution two centuries later. Yet, as Professor Woell shows, the tendentious reporting of the killings of republicans at Machecoul makes dispassionate reconstruction of the events almost impossible. Making the best of a bad job, he sensibly opts to reconstruct the pre-Revolutionary contexts for the town and its inhabitants and then, to complete his study, to examine the diverse ways in which those traumatic events of spring 1793 were perceived and represented over the following 120 years. Machecoul before 1789 was, according to Woell (and his familiarity with local and regional sources is assured), a town with many resident secular clergy teaching the familiar Tridentine catechetical themes of sin and man’s need for obedience but without ever managing to put in place a monolithic Catholic culture or entirely eliminating traces of Jansenist values. The local clergy and their representatives in the National Assembly were alienated from the Revolution before the end of 1789 and only 22 per cent of the former First Estate in the department of the Loire-Inférieure took the oath accepting the Civil Constitution of the Clergy. Despite the existence of a Masonic Lodge and increased lay involvement in the running of the parish church under the new ecclesiastical regime in place by 1791-92, the nonjuring clergy had many sympathizers in the town and among the wealthy tenant farmers on the peripheries.Woell’s researches make him insistent that we cannot talk in terms of the outbreak of violence in 1793 being a matter of town versus country, rich versus poor: the political divisions criss-crossed social and geographical ones. The bitterness felt by republicans against their rebellious neighbors/enemies persisted; Woell notes that many patriots were opposed to Lazare Hoche’s “Pacification of the West” in 1795-96 while refractory priests were likewise comparing what had happened to their people as comparable to the persecution of the early Christians by the Roman state.The fault lines proved enduring: Woell uses nineteenth-century sermons to demonstrate that Tridentine rigor persisted alongside a devotion to the Sacred Heart that the devout knew had been an inspiration to their forefathers during the Vendéen Revolt. Other families, no less attached to their faith, were descended from bleus rather than 676 BOOK REVIEWS blancs, and before 1914 there was little sign of the secularization that now marks the region as little different from anywhere else in France.Woell notes at the close that the folk memory of the “Massacres,” 200 years on, is now at an end. Most locals have forgotten them. Thus concludes a modest, sensible, and well-researched study whose principal weakness is the absence of comparisons with other towns in the region. University of Leicester NIGEL ASTON Des résistances religieuses à Napoléon (1799-1813). By Bernard Plongeron. [Mémoire Chrétienne au Présent, 3.] (Paris: Letouzey & Ané. 2006. Pp. 366. €31,50 paperback.) The Abbé Bernard Plongeron, emeritus professor at the Institut catholique in Paris, is already well known for his studies of the French Revolutionary clergy and of various theological and ecclesialogical issues in France at the end of the eighteenth century. His newest book presents a selection of articles and papers, most of them published previously in journals and conference proceedings from 1982 through 2004. Despite the suggestion of the title, the essays included go well beyond the Napoleonic era, covering a pot-pourri of topics in French ecclesiastical history and Franco-Papal relations from the Old Regime through the Restoration. Various chapters present rapid overviews on Pope Pius VI and the French Revolution; on the origins and nature of the Constitutional Church during the Revolution; on proposals for Christian union under the Old Regime and the Empire; and on Bonaparte’s promotion of a cult of Saint Napoleon, an apparently apocryphal Roman martyr whose feast day was set to correspond with the Feast of the Assumption. Among those essays which actually broach the topic announced in the title, four are of particular interest. One (chapter V) presents a careful and erudite study of those pro-Revolutionary “Constitutional” bishops who were reassigned to dioceses by Napoleon following the Concordat of 1801. Although all had willingly resigned their Revolutionary posts for the sake of Catholic unity and in deference to Bonaparte, many would steadfastly refuse to retract their Revolutionary oaths as demanded by Rome. Another article (chapter VII) examines the attitudes toward war of the Napoleonic episcopacy based on the analysis of their various public pronouncements. Particular emphasis is placed here on the bishops’ recurrent descriptions of the emperor as a “New Cyrus,” pursuing “just wars” to the benefit of the Catholic Church—just as the victories of Cyrus the Great had enabled the Jews to return to the Promised Land and rebuild the temple. A third essay (chapter IX) provides new insights into the abortive French National Council of 1811 through a careful examination of two diplomatic missions sent by Napoleon to negotiate with Pope Pius VII (under house arrest in Savona) before and after the meetings of the Council. Plongeron concludes that from the start there was little hope of successfully reinvigorating the fal- BOOK REVIEWS 677 tering Concordat, given Napoleon’s arrogance toward Rome—exemplified by his “Organic Articles” imposed unilaterally on the French Church and by his military invasion of the Papal States. The book’s final article (chapter X) provides a more detailed examination of the personality and positions of Pius VII in the last years of the Empire and of the Pope’s courageous refusal to co-operate with Napoleon, despite the efforts of the French episcopacy and his own physical suffering during travels imposed by the French army and during his long detention in Savona and Fontainebleau. For the most part, this is well-known territory, extensively treated in the past by several historians, most notably André Latreille. Nor does Plongeron make much effort to incorporate the work of more recent scholars: of Michael Broers or Nigel Aston, for example—whom he never mentions—or of JacquesOlivier Boudon, whose work he alludes to but does little to integrate.Yet certain of the essays do provide new details on the subject that may well be of interest to specialists in the field. University of California, Irvine TIMOTHY TACKETT Kontinuität und Innovation um 1803. Säkularisation als Transformationsprozeß: Kirche–Theologie–Kultur–Staat. Edited by Rolf Decot. [Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Europäische Geschichte Mainz, Abteilung für abendländische Religionsgeschichte, Beiheft 65.] (Mainz:Verlag Philipp von Zabern. 2005. Pp. x, 324. €34.80; Sw Fr 60.00.) This work is the outcome of one of the numerous scholarly symposia held in Germany on the occasion of the two hundredth anniversary of the Imperial Recess (Reichsdeputationshauptschluss) of 1803, whose profound political and cultural consequences remain evident today. In the run-up to the commemorative year, the Institute for European History in Mainz sponsored one of the first of these events, the results of which were soon published (2002). The Institute also arranged one of the last such, held in January 2004, which is the basis of the current volume.Where the first conference dealt with the general state of research on the Recess, the second was meant to spotlight cultural and theological transformation after 1803. The flexible understanding of the term “cultural” in the historical sciences perhaps accounts for the broad range of the volume, which includes fourteen essays. Several of these are concerned more directly with the conference’s focus, such as how leading clergymen including Ignaz Heinrich von Wessenberg and Johann Michael Sailer understood the institution of the Church; the alleged loss of episcopal autonomy visà-vis Rome in the second generation following secularization; monastic life in the age of upheaval; the foundation of new Catholic religious communities in the first half of the nineteenth century; changes in the education of the priesthood; and confessional mentalities. Other contributions deal with the development of territorial law regulating the churches after secularization; the “political ecclesiology” of Joseph de Maistre; the concept of “secularization” as 678 BOOK REVIEWS employed by historians in the context both of dominion and property; the social transformation of the higher clergy from Germania Sacra to the mediatized Church; and the economy of the monasteries.As the title indicates, the relationship between Church and State is central to many of these issues. Unfortunately, there was no effort to pull the disparate contributions together or to make the volume more than the sum of its parts; the introductory essay that should be obligatory for such a publication is lacking. Of particular note is that several of the authors, including Hubert Wolf and Peter Claus Hartmann, take exception to the generally positive attitude toward the secularization adopted in recent decades by historians of the Church. Hartmann notes the negative cultural consequences for the (majority) Catholic population of Germany, such as the loss of numerous centers of education, culture, and scholarship; the destruction of valuable churches, artworks, and libraries; and the elimination of avenues of social mobility. Provincialism came to characterize what had been in many respects a cosmopolitan Catholic Germany. That the consequences of secularization remain politically controversial today is most apparent in Hubert Wolf’s article. Like Hartmann, he attributes the “centralization” (p. 248) of the German Church to secularization. He favorably contrasts the autonomy of the early modern German episcopate from Rome with the episcopal ideal that he argues emerged in the nineteenth century and remains valid down to the present: the “ultramontane bishop … whose point of identity is Rome and who understands himself as the pope’s belt of transmission” (p. 130). Austrian Academy of Sciences, Vienna WILLIAM D. GODSEY, JR. Mgr Fr.-J. Hirn (1751-1819), Premier Évêque Concordataire du Diocèse de Tournai (1802-1819): Un Épiscopat difficile. By Albert Milet. [Bibliothèque de la Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique, Fascicule 83.] (Brussels: Éditions Nauwelaerts. 2002. Pp. 397. €30,00.) François-Joseph Hirn was bishop of Tournai when that see was a part of the Napoleonic Empire, and continued on after Napoleon’s fall, when Tournai was a part of the Netherlands reconstituted by the Congress of Vienna: a pivotal personality and a pivotal see. The priest historian and canon of the cathedral at Tournai, Albert Milet, finally published this volume at age 85, in lieu of the biography that he had projected at the beginning of his research. He settled for an extensive and carefully laid out, but necessarily heterogeneous, collection of documentation. Hirn himself was born in Strasbourg and, after his education and seminary formation, was ordained there. He served briefly in Mainz, a see with close ties to Strasbourg, but then returned to complete a doctorate in theology at the University of Strasbourg. His opposition to any germanizing local Catholicism led to some antagonisms that he briefly finessed when trying out a vocation to the Carthusians. He was in Strasbourg when the Civil Constitution of the BOOK REVIEWS 679 Clergy became the object of the loyalty oath taken by sixty percent of the French clergy who were obligated to it. Hirn refused to take the oath, but avoided further harassment because he relocated to Mainz just as it was regained by the Prussians. It may be that his reputation for kindness to wounded French soldiers at this time was the source of his later nomination as bishop of Tournai by Napoleon’s government. His organizational and intellectual gifts were clearly manifest in his text on restructuring the diocese of Tournai, in the foundation of a new diocesan seminary, and in his organization of a complex diocesan library. Hirn appreciated and praised Napoleon more than many of his fellow bishops, but he was one of the principal episcopal dissenters at the Napoleon-sponsored church council in 1811. This stance brought him into such conflict with the government that he was actually condemned to several years of prison. He submitted to a forced resignation, but became so agitated by what he took to be his own weakness in this matter that he later paid a special visit to the pope to ask for forgiveness. Hirn was reinstated with full papal approval just at the moment that Tournai was placed under the authority of the new King of the Netherlands. The book is arranged in chapters of carefully sorted out archival data, enhanced by the author’s footnote references and commentary, and is part of the series, Bibliothèque de la Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique, an utterly random list of specialized, high-quality studies. In this case, historians of church-state affairs of the revolutionary and Napoleonic eras can explore the reception of the Concordat and its subsequent political and religious fortunes in a specific region. Everything contained in local archives is printed up in this text, in whole more often than in part. Most chapters are followed by annexes that are numbered sequentially across the book and not by individual chapters; relative to central features of Hirn’s episcopate and the life of the diocese, the material varies considerably in importance.Whereas data on Hirn’s organization of and contributions to the library might interest only local historians, the two years of correspondence between Hirn and the departmental prefect can interest all historians of the concordatory church; Milet entitles this chapter,“Une Collaboration peu ordinaire,” which indeed it was. By the end of the text, the reader feels the need for that rounded-off monograph Milet was never able to finish, although a disputatious correspondence between regional civil authorities and clergy over burial refusals is of obvious church-state interest. The last chapter, documents pertaining to Bishop Hirn’s arrest and imprisonment, does have special importance today, because it complements recent research on Napoleon’s constantly strained relationship with the Church he helped to bring back into national life in 1801. Those who know the story of Pius VII’s virtual imprisonment by the Emperor will find that stories such as Hirn’s help to complete the picture. No doubt but that the anticlerical politician and later premier, Georges Clemenceau, was right in 1891 when he called the Concordat, a “Discordat.” Oklahoma State University JOSEPH F. BYRNES 680 BOOK REVIEWS The Abbé Grégoire and the French Revolution: The Making of Modern Universalism. By Alyssa Goldstein Sepinwall. [The S. Mark Taper Foundation Imprint in Jewish Studies.] (Berkley: University of California Press. 2005. Pp. xii, 341. $55.00.) Alyssa Sepinwall’s biography of the Abbé Grégoire makes an important contribution to French Revolution historiography and not just because of Grégoire’s extraordinary career. At the heart of her study is an intellectual, even moral, dilemma that has marked not only the evolution of the modern French state but also that of every heterogeneous society: the place of diversity and multiculturalism in national identity. With the French state’s recent ban on the donning of religious symbols in schools, and the movement in the United States to declare English the only official language, Sepinwall’s timing is perfect.To study the history of this contentious issue, one must go back to the French Revolution and to Grégoire in particular. Sepinwall recognizes this in her acknowledgments: she thanks David Bell for urging her “to tackle some of the most contested questions in modern history” (p. 240). Unfortunately, beyond this acknowledgment, she does not explicitly orient her work toward these questions, leaving this task to readers and reviewers. If one thing is lacking in this otherwise fascinating and thorough “intellectual biography” it is this hesitation to draw out the meaning of Grégoire’s life and times for our own. Since his time, nationalists, anti-colonialists, and multiculturalists have found in Grégoire an intellectual precursor if not a hero. He was an early proponent of Jewish toleration and an influential member of France’s antislavery society. Though Catholic, he helped achieve the secularization of the French state, and remained a committed republican throughout his life. At the same time, his vision of the French polis was one in which difference would be erased, gradually, through education and intermarriage. As Sepinwall writes, “the universal human family that Grégoire sought to build would ultimately place Europeans and other peoples in brotherhood. These other peoples would have to abandon their cultures and adopt the republican Christian values of Europeans like Grégoire, however, before they could belong”(p. 196). Animating Grégoire’s universalism was “regeneration.” Implying an existing state of degeneracy, the younger Grégoire saw the Enlightenment as the key to creating citizens out of self-interested, particularistic populations, including Jews, Blacks, and patois speakers. Originally a theological concept, “regeneration” would take on gargantuan proportions in the first French Republic where corrupted aristocrats and other dissidents would be “forced to be free” according to Rousseau’s famous dictum. Disillusioned by the failure of republicanism to achieve regeneration, the older Grégoire believed only Catholicism, indeed divine intercession, could regenerate the peoples of the world.Yet this conservative turn did not lead him away from either republicanism or a broad toleration of diverse peoples. Excepted were women who, marked by biological dif- BOOK REVIEWS 681 ference, could never be assimilated into the polis. His life-long misogyny (though Sepinwall does not call it that) was shown even in his refusal to allow priests who had married during de-Christianization to resume their vocations once the Catholic Church was restored.“If he and his friends had survived the Terror without getting married, others could have done so too” (p. 146). Though devout and strict in his observance of his priestly role, Grégoire remained estranged from Rome throughout his career. He was the first priest to take the oath to the Civil Constitution of the Clergy, believing that the Church should advance the interests of the French state and eager to advance a more democratic Church hierarchy. On his death-bed he still refused to renounce that oath, though it precluded the administration of the last rites. Readers of this journal will perhaps find Grégoire’s religious trajectory the most interesting section of the book. Positioned at the intersection of world historical events, we find him advising Haitian republicans, alienated from American Catholics, and called the “modern Las Casas” by some Latin Americans, Grégoire’s sincere commitment to republican Catholicism dedicated to the uplift of the poor and oppressed, though compromised by his emphasis on assimilation, is indeed an inspiration. University of North Carolina–Asheville TRACEY RIZZO Les Dames de la Ligue des Femmes françaises (1901-1914). By Bruno Dumons. [Histoire religieuse de la France, 28.] (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf. 2006. Pp. 526. €48,00 paperback.) Bruno Dumons’ study of the Ligue des Femmes françaises (LFF) contributes significantly to our understanding of modern French political culture and religious history. He demonstrates that diverse paths gave French women access to the public sphere in the early twentieth century. One of those paths was intransigent Ultramontane Catholicism. Dumons’ work is based on exhaustive research in national and departmental archives, and a vast periodical literature. He also had access to the personal archives of the Ligue’s founder. He constructs a comprehensive portrait of the Ligue’s origins, milieus, members, methods of communication, doctrines, and mentalités.This analysis reveals a group of elite women dedicated to the defense of Catholicism, eager to participate in the re-Christianization of France, hoping to transform society and the Republic. Dumons explores the multiple contexts from which the Ligue emerged in 1901. Its founders, Jeanne Lestra and the Countess Saint-Laurent, were members of Lyons’ most prominent families. This elite combined land-owning aristocrats and wealthy bourgeois. Dumons stresses that the Ligue’s strength was centered in Lyons and the adjacent rural southeast. A counterrevolutionary heritage amplified and supported a vibrant commitment to intransigent Ultramontane Catholicism. For the Lyonnais elite the principal guide to this 682 BOOK REVIEWS passionate faith was the Jesuit Order, which staffed the exclusive schools, organized lay associations, and provided confessors. Jeanne Lestra’s personal Jesuit confessor advised her closely during the first two years of the Ligue’s existence. Its growth depended on aristocratic women in rural settings with strong royalist and Catholic attachments. The anti-Republican sentiments of these elite women were aroused in the 1890’s by the Dreyfus Affair, the republicans’ political success, and the Radical Republicans’ promotion of anticlerical legislation. In 1900 the Chamber of Deputies began discussion of a bill that would reduce regulations on the formation of non-religious organizations, but would regularize and increase the state’s control over the growing number of religious houses (Congrégations). Anticlerical republicans used this legislation, enacted in May of 1901, to close teaching orders and restrict Catholic education. The Ligue des Femmes françaises was founded in order to respond to this threat. The Ligue permitted organized Catholic women to intervene actively in the legislative campaign of 1902 despite their exclusion from the vote. Through local committees elite women held meetings, wrote for local papers, organized petitions, demonstrated publicly, and, most important, solicited funds. The Ligue insisted that it was above politics, unaffiliated with any particular party. They distributed their not insignificant funds to any candidate who was not a Freemason and who supported the “defense of religion.”This intense electoral activity led to two serious problems. The first was internal disagreements. The prestigious Paris committee sought a direct affiliation with the recently created Catholic conservative party. In 1902 the Paris committee formed a separate organization, the Ligue patriotique des Françaises, which retained its affiliation with the conservative party. The two leagues remained rivals until 1933, when under Church pressure they merged. Until then they competed for members, for funds, and especially for episcopal and papal recognition. The Lyonnais Ligue prided itself on its provincial strength, its political independence, its strong clerical ties, and its increasing commitment to spirituality. Spirituality was the Ligue’s dominant response to the second dilemma resulting from the 1902 elections—the victory of its archenemy, the Radical Republicans. Significant leadership changes followed this outcome: the Jesuit advisor was forced by his superiors in Rome to abandon his involvement, and the Ligue’s founder Jeanne Listra retired from activity for three years. Following the directives of the new Pope, Pius X, elected in 1903, the LFF pursued more traditional female activities—good works and prayer. Dumons is especially successfully in exploring the spirituality practiced by the women of the Ligue. Central to the emphasis on prayer was their adoration of the Sacred Heart with its royalist tradition, increasing Eucharistic devotions, and a variety of Marian practices. This spirituality, which was by no means limited to the LFF, emphasized both martyrdom and nationalist revival, personified by the recently beatified Joan of Arc.With this new spiritual emphasis the Ligue continued to protest publicly against the secularizing Republic. Its goals were unchanged. BOOK REVIEWS 683 As early as 1902 the Ligue claimed to have one or more committees in over half of the departments of France. By 1914 its membership was estimated at 400,000 and the rival LPDF asserted a similar number. This was a formidable movement, which did concern its enemies, the Radical Republicans. Dumons’ careful elucidation of the Ligue establishes the significance of this vital political culture, espoused by aristocratic and bourgeois elites, which was antiRepublican, nationalist, and intransigently Catholic. Above all women fervently embraced this intransigent Catholicism, which legitimated their actions in the public sphere. Dumons’ claims that the experience of the Ligue was part of a larger “modernization” process affecting French women and Catholicism requires a more careful explanation than he has provided.Nonetheless,Dumons’ work indisputably establishes the Ligue’s political culture as a key element of early twentieth-century France and an important expression of elite women. Western Michigan University JUDITH F. STONE Dom Gabriel Sortais: An Amazing Abbot in Turbulent Times. By Guy Oury, OSB. Translated by Brian Kerns, OCSO. (Kalamazoo, Michigan: Cistercian Publications. 2006. Pp. xi, 333. $34.95.) The prolific Benedictine, Guy Oury, wrote a mostly chronological study of Dom Gabriel Sortais (1902-1963), the Cistercian abbot of Bellefontaine who became the head of his order in 1951. About fifty pages were devoted to Sortais’ early life, 150 pages to his entrance into and life at Bellefontaine, and 100 pages to his twelve-year term as Abbot General. For the years as Abbot General, the chapters were organized by topic. Dom Sortais lived through and participated in many important movements during the twentieth century. He was a militant in the controversial and conservative Action Française before he entered the abbey in 1924; he promoted the memory of the Vendéens who were heroes for their defense of their faith during the French Revolution (1793); he joined the French army as a chaplain (when twenty of his fifty monks were called up) in late 1939, was wounded and captured with the fall of France, and remained a prisoner of war for over six months until January, 1941; he had confidence in Pétain and the Vichy regime; he intervened to save fifty hostages from German reprisals in late 1941; he sponsored new monasteries in East Asia; he attended the Second Vatican Council. Above all, Oury painted Sortais as a “loving abbot and spiritual father” (p. 101) while recognizing his weaknesses, such as his anger. There were many seeming contradictions in Sortais’s life. Though an unhappy and mediocre student, he introduced the element of study (e.g., of the psalms) and created a library for the abbey of Bellefontaine. Anti-intellectual, he set up a house of studies for young monks in Rome. A proponent of nationalism and Vendée regionalism, he spread Cistercian monasteries for men and for women around the world, with special interest in East Asia. A man of 684 BOOK REVIEWS action, he cultivated contemplative life as the highest priority for himself, for his abbey, and for his Order. A traditionalist, he fostered reforms and a return to “authentic Cistercian tradition.” A constant in Sortais’s life was suffering and illness. Fatigue and insomnia plagued this man of action but rarely slowed him down. He was authoritarian, though he “radiated life and joy” (p. 166). Above all, he insisted on the development of the interior life, walking with God. After reading the book, one knows what Sortais did but does not understand why he did them (e.g., volunteer as an army chaplain in 1939) nor why he was esteemed by young and old monks and by Cistercian nuns (e.g., those under his authority at the Les Gardes). He demanded obedience (authority was a big issue for him); he could be irascible and fierce as well as generous and fervent. Oury or the translator has added content footnotes to help English-speaking readers with French geography and French personages. However, he uses Cistercian terms with no explanation (e.g., “Father immediate,” “usages,” and “Trappist”). A lacuna in the book is a section talking about the sources Oury used. Since Sortais left no autobiography, Oury relied on other archival information, a general list of which he provided in the bibliography but which are not discussed. How many letters, for example, were there in “Dossier VII, Dom Sortais’ correspondence”? Were his letters mostly general “to a monk,” “to a cousin,”“to a nun”? This book provides a source for understanding the life and views of a conservative, French Cistercian leader. It is of interest to those who want to understand the changes and reforms in the Cistercian way of life over the first sixty years of the twentieth century. Dominican University of California M. PATRICIA DOUGHERTY, O.P. Les carnets du cardinal Baudrillart (26 décembre 1928—12 février 1932). Edited by Paul Christophe.(Paris:Les Éditions du Cerf.2003.Pp.1136. €65,00.) Since 1993 Paul Christophe has published, with the Dominicans’ Editions du Cerf, the texts of dozens of handwritten journals—divided into nine annotated and indexed 1000-page volumes—of Cardinal Alfred Baudrillart. The distinguished Academician freshly recorded, from August 1, 1914, the many encounters and events of his very active life. Recently made accessible in the archives of that same Institut Catholique which he directed for thirty-five years, they document its history—from the first in fine penmanship to the final sixty-fifth in a nearly illegible scrawl. Christophe, church historian at the Catholic University of Lille, had already published a monograph on French Catholics and the Popular Front, and 1939-1940 les catholiques devant la guerre (1989), which helps explain why he first published the dramatic Baudrillart notebooks from 1936, and the German occupation, rather than releasing them in chronological order. BOOK REVIEWS 685 Alfred Baudrillart was born in 1859, son of a member of l’Académie des sciences morales who was editor of the Journal des Débats. Alfred entered the École Normale Supérieure at age 25 in 1878, had Jean Jaurès and Henri Bergson as classmates, and passed the agrégation in history in 1881. He entered the Oratory in 1890, founded the celebrated Dictionnaire d’histoire et de géographie ecclésiastiques, and was ordained a priest at age thirty-seven. In 1907, at fifty-one, he was named rector of l’Institut catholique and continued in that post until he died in 1942. In 1918 he was elected to the Académie française and frequented elite political, religious, and literary circles. Named cardinal in 1935, Baudrillart became something of an ambassador, visiting Spain, Portugal, French colonies in North Africa, as he became more and more anti-Communist, pro-fascist and even pro-Nazi, until his death in occupied Paris. Contemporary Catholic prelates now leave personal journals for publication, but these Baudrillart diaries are not the revelatory, soul-searching documents of a Wojtyl/a or a Ratzinger, but rather a daily account by an observant “political animal” of the people he encountered. Self-analysis, guilt, sexuality, Jesus are all notably absent. In an earlier volume Christophe deplored the cardinal rector’s blessing the Légion des volontaires de France’s embracing Hitler’s crusade against the atheistic Bolsheviks. The present volume is one of those which have helped Christophe appreciate the complexities of, and become less judgmental about, his subject. We encounter Moslem native peoples (annoyingly restive), Communists (malefic Stalinist agents), French political leaders (tricky, spineless), Fascist leaders (untrustworthy but promising), his fellow religious (ignorant), the Action Française (tragically betrayed), and the deference and consideration expected by the cardinal rector (considerable). We also discover Baudrillart’s enduring friendship for Pétain (unaffected by the Marshal’s discernible indifference to religion), his early sympathy for the other Catholics who would take up Hitler’s anti-Soviet crusade (e.g., novelist Alphonse de Chateaubriant, politician Philippe Henriot). French Catholicism, this volume reminds us, produced well-known, intelligent, French patriots who, out of understandable fear of the Stalinists, became Nazi sympathizers. These interesting diaries are of a Catholic Party Man—dedicated to France, to Pope and Church, terribly concerned with ecclesiastical discipline and his own importance. Humorless, stuffy, and indifferent to beauty and pleasure, Baudrillart emerges as a sort of French Josemaría Escrivá de Balaguer (founder of Opus Dei, canonized in 2002). The cardinal’s mentality surfaced both in the L.V.F. and the counter-insurgency efforts of the Milice, led by Catholic war hero (and SS officer) Joseph Darnand, who tortured and executed Resisters in the name of Christ the King. Baudrillart’s canonization, while unthinkable when this series first went to press over a decade ago, is no longer outside of the realm of possibility. McGill University JOHN HELLMAN 686 BOOK REVIEWS Archivo Gomá: Documentos de la Guerra Civil. Edited by José AndrésGallego and Antón M. Pazos. Vols. 7, 8. (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas. 2005. Pp. 666, 747. Paperback.) These volumes of the personal archive of Cardinal Isidro Gomá y Tomás, archbishop of Toledo and primate of Spain during the Spanish Civil War, cover the four months between August and December of 1937. During this period, the war between the Republic and the Nationalist regime of General Franco continued unabated, although the military balance had begun to tilt toward the rebel armies. It was also during these months that Franco began to lay the institutional and ideological foundations for his “New” Spain, although the precise form that these would take was still far from clear. As the leader of the hierarchy through his position as primate and president of the Committee of Metropolitans, Gomá supported the military rising in public without hesitation, but, in private he was apprehensive about the possible emergence of a totalitarian, fascist state and its consequences for the Church. The documents published, organized chronologically, cover an immense range of topics from the trivial to the important, from the imposition of export duties on olive oil destined for the Vatican to critical questions such as churchstate relations and the strategy the Church required to recover from the mass assassinations of clergy and the destruction of churches in the republican zone. Gomá’s personal correspondence reveals a less self-confident figure than his public figure suggested. Often beset by bouts of poor health, he struggled to meet a multitude of challenges that taxed his energy to the fullest and, at times, left him depressed about the Church’s situation in the “New” Spain of the generals. A substantial portion of the documentation revolves around the effect of the cardinal’s celebrated and controversial 1937 Collective Letter to the Catholic bishops of the world. This justification of the rising against the Republic as a defense of Christian civilization produced an outpouring of letters of support from bishops throughout the Catholic world, all reproduced in these volumes. Gomá also worked unceasingly to promote the translation and publication of the letter in as many countries as possible. But, in some respects, he was more concerned with the criticism directed against the letter by clergy and laypeople, especially by Basque priests who supported the political autonomy of the Catholic Basques within the Republic and by progressive Catholic opinion in France. The documentation shows a constant sense of frustration with the refusal of his Catholic critics to accept the premises of the Collective Letter. The most important contribution of these volumes for historians is that that they reveal in abundant detail the complex and shifting relations between the Church and the Franco regime. Gomá maintained an abiding confidence in the general to restore the Church to what he saw as its rightful place within the new order. But he was not naive. For example, although his correspondence BOOK REVIEWS 687 was exempt from official censorship, he suspected that the authorities did not always respect the exemption. He recognized that the Church was just one of the interest groups seeking to achieve its objectives within a political system in process of formation and that not all of them, especially the regime’s single party, the quasifascist party, the Falange, were disposed to allow the Church the ample autonomy that it desired, particularly in the fields of education and associational activity. On several occasions, Gomá had to appeal to the authorities to halt attacks on the Church’s position in Falange publications. The cardinal’s political views were straightforward. He wished the regime to restore the privileges that it had enjoyed prior to the proclamation of the Republic in 1931. He had no particular views about the constitutional form of the state, but whatever its form, he believed that the “liberty of the Church” should be respected and that it should not become a political arm of the new political order. For this reason, he objected to the clergy occupying official positions in the Falange. These were, of course, contradictory objectives as the twists and turns of church-state relations during this period show. There were gains and losses. The Church more or less achieved its objectives in education, but failed to halt the momentum toward the creation of a state syndicalist monopoly into which all Catholic labor unions and student associations would be incorporated. There were bishops, notably Cardinal Pedro Segura of Seville and Bishop Luciano Pérez Platero of Segovia, who told Gomá that the Church should throw down the gauntlet before the regime to stop the incorporation of the Catholic teachers’ federation into the state syndicate. Gomá was opposed to the incorporation; but cautious to a fault, he was not prepared to go this far, although he worked from behind the scenes to persuade the regime to abandon its in plan, albeit unsuccessfully. To some extent, the cardinal remained his own man with respect to the regime. On occasion, he supported appeals for clemency for prominent Catholic republicans. He maintained throughout this period a friendly correspondence with the exiled Cardinal Vidal y Barraquer of Tarragona, whom the regime regarded with ill-favor for his role in supporting an accommodation with the Republic between 1931 and 1933. But Gomá insisted on recognizing him as a member of the hierarchy and solicited his opinions prior to the 1937 meeting of the Committee of Metropolitans. He also maintained good relations with Canon Maximiliano Arboleya of Oviedo, a prominent figure in Catholic labor circles since the turn of the century, who was subject to a campaign of vilification in his native city by the Falange and even some Catholic newspapers. In the end, Gomá was too cautious, too apprehensive, perhaps even pessimistic, about defending the interests of the Church within the regime, as his reports to his fellow archbishops prior to the 1937 meeting indicate. He perhaps realized that attaining the objective of securing the “liberty of the 688 BOOK REVIEWS Church” would not be easily accomplished, however numerous the benefits the Church received from “New” Spain. These volumes continue the high standard set in the earlier volumes in the series. Some editorial pruning would have been useful. The numerous replies to Gomá from the world’s bishops with respect to the Collective Letter might have been reduced to a representative sample since, for the most part, they follow a conventional pattern. But this is a minor reservation in what is a major contribution to the historiography of the twentieth-century Spanish Church. University of Toronto (Emeritus) WILLIAM J. CALLAHAN Spain during World War II. By Wayne H. Bowen. (Columbia: University of Missouri Press. 2006. Pp. x, 279. $39.95 hardcover.) Wayne H. Bowen’s study of Spain during World War II fills a gap in Englishlanguage historiography. General studies on aspects of twentieth-century Spain (other than the Civil War itself), by historians such as Stanley Payne and Paul Preston, certainly address the 1939-45 period, but Bowen is amongst the first to provide dedicated coverage. However, it is worth noting that, coincidentally, Bowen’s engrossing historical study makes its appearance at the same time as two popular works of fiction—Winter in Madrid by C. J. Sansom and Death of a Nationalist by Rebecca Pawel—have introduced an even wider readership to the social maelstrom which was the Spain of the early 1940’s. Bowen provides a wide-ranging survey, with chapters on foreign policy, domestic politics, the economy, culture, and leisure, women and the Sección Femenina, the Catholic Church, and the Authoritarian State and the Opposition. The first two chapters, on foreign policy, are particularly important in that they challenge the commonly held perception that Franco boldly held his ground against Hitler’s overtures during World War II in refusing to declare war on the Allies. A legend evolved of a caudillo who had saved his war-weary people from further ravages. What emerges from Bowen’s careful study of the sources, however, is a real sense of checkerboard gamesmanship on Franco’s part, as he held out for the deal which would be right for Spain. But by February 1941, such maneuvering had not resulted in Spanish belligerency. Hitler, writes Bowen, regarded Franco as a “hopeless Catholic” and a man of “inferior character.” Nevertheless, some 4,500 Spaniards would die as members of the División Azul, fighting for Nazi allies at Stalingrad and elsewhere on the Eastern Front. Such common cause with the Nazi war machine was, increasingly, to become an embarrassment to the Francoist regime as the war progressed and the victory of the Allies became more certain. Throughout the text, Bowen maintains a commendable balance of judgment. This is nowhere better manifested, perhaps, than in the chapter on the Catholic Church. Again, he is alert to the danger of presenting a simplistic por- BOOK REVIEWS 689 trait of the emergence of a National Catholic regime. Bowen does not in any way dismiss the notion that the Church was relieved at Franco’s victory, noting Pius XII’s telegram of congratulations to Franco at the Civil War’s conclusion (p. 205). But, while many Spanish clergy looked to Franco as a man who had responded with necessary action to the unrighteous wrongs and crimes of the Republic, such as the conflagration of churches and the execution of priests and religious, there was something reminiscently medieval about the manner in which certain prelates defended their ecclesiastical privileges. Indeed, this is a particular perspective which Bowen might wish to consider in a future work: Spanish bishops as defenders of their see rather than the Church per se. Cardinal Segura, Archbishop of Seville (1937-57), had an extraordinary career as a principal player in a continuing Church-State demarcation dispute. From the pulpit of his cathedral, Segura went so far as to remind his congregation that the title caudillo, adopted and cherished by Franco, had the historic meaning of a “captain of thieves” (p. 216). What Bowen makes abundantly clear— and it is a necessary corrective to less sophisticated portrayals—is that the picture of the Church of the early Francoist period is not a monochrome one. In sum, Bowen has produced a lucid, balanced, and scholarly monograph which certainly deserves a readership beyond specialist hispanists. Indeed, there is much for the general reader to enjoy and benefit from. University of Glasgow RAYMOND MCCLUSKEY The Old Enemies: Catholic and Protestant in Nineteenth-Century English Culture. By Michael Wheeler. (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2006. Pp. xvi, 352. $80.00.) In the preface Michael Wheeler describes himself as a “Modern Catholic” member of the Church of England. I assume by that he means that he is a liberal Anglo-Catholic, and certainly this book reveals a detached observer whose sympathies, however, lie more with Papists than Protestants. The book begins with the so-called “Papal Aggression” of 1850, when Pio Nono restored the Catholic hierarchy to England and Wales, a chapter delightfully illustrated by the contemporary cartoons in Punch. The next chapter deals with Catholic and Protestant treatments of the early Church, including discussion of three historical novels. This is followed in turn by a similar chapter on the writing of English Reformation history. Chapter 4 looks at nineteenth-century responses to the Gordon riots and the Jacobite rebellion of the eighteenth century. The next three chapters discuss attitudes to Catholic Emancipation, Newman’s conversion, and the Gorham case. The last three chapters deal with the impact of Catholicism on English culture following Emancipation. Chapter 8 considers the role of women in the context of representations of the Virgin Mary and of convents and nuns. Chapter 9 looks at the reaction to the First Vatican Council and papal infal- 690 BOOK REVIEWS libility. And the last chapter examines the Decadents, several of whom converted to Rome. Wheeler is a professor of English, but this book reveals also an impressive knowledge of the history and theology of the period. Pointing out that just as Darwin was searching for the origin of species, so too Catholic and Protestant theologians sought to prove that the origins of their religion lay in early Christianity. And just as Darwin emphasised the importance of the “patient accumulation of facts,” so too the very first paragraph of Newman’s own counterpart to the Origin of Species, the Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine, contains no less than half-a-dozen references to “facts.” The whole story of Protestant-Catholic relations was not all one of unremitting hostility. John Lingard’s ground-breaking History of England, a model of fairness and moderation, was turned down by two Catholic publishers and accepted by a Protestant one; significantly, it was used as his main source by the Protestant historical novelist,William Harrison Ainsworth, who preached toleration. The religiously detached Macaulay could write,“There is not, and there never was on this earth, a work of human policy so well deserving of examination as the Roman Catholic Church.”Even Kingsley, with his pathological hatred of Catholicism, allows us to glimpse in his fiction what Wheeler calls that “mixture of conscious repulsion and unconscious attraction that characterized the response of many Victorian Protestants to Roman Catholicism.”Dickens showed sympathy for persecuted Catholics but not for their religion. Ruskin agreed with Cobbett’s pro-Catholic view of the Reformation, adding that Catholic historians were better informed than Protestant ones and fairer. Cobbett’s idealized picture of pre-Reformation Catholic England “was to have a profound influence upon Victorian medievalism.” In this learned and wide-ranging study, I noticed only one serious mistake. Newman was not, like Ruskin,“brought up as an Evangelical” (p. 57). On the contrary, his experience was significantly different: like George Eliot, he was brought up as an “ordinary” member of the Church of England, before undergoing an Evangelically influenced conversion at the age of fifteen. University of Oxford IAN KER The Ghost in the Garden Room. By Elizabeth Gaskell. Edited with an introduction and notes by Fran Baker. [Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of Manchester,Volume 86, Number 1 (Spring, 2004).] (Manchester: The John Rylands University Library of Manchester. 2005. Pp. cxxiv, 84. 2005.) One of the most interesting and influential innovations in Victorian publishing was Charles Dickens’s “Christmas numbers,” carefully planned special editions of Dickens’s weekly journals that appeared every Christmas from BOOK REVIEWS 691 1850 to 1867 and reached an audience of over quarter of a million eager readers. Dickens loved the whole idea of storytelling—a setting conducive to the telling of tales, storytellers with a tale (often from their own lives) to tell, and a captive group of listeners gathered around a Christmas fire, snowed up in an inn, or bobbing about in a lifeboat awaiting rescue. He invited other writers to contribute and tried to give them free rein within guidelines intended to make the number coherent and the theme explicit, not an easy task and one that eventually defeated him. The intention of the numbers was always, as Dickens said of his earlier Christmas books (A Christmas Carol being the most famous),“to awaken some loving and forbearing thoughts, never out of season in a Christian land.” Elizabeth Gaskell’s “The Ghost in the Garden Room” was written for the 1859 number,“The Haunted House,” the intention of which was to debunk the kind of spiritualism (rappings, mediums, séances, etc.) that Dickens deplored because many Victorians mistook it for genuine religious experience. Dickens intended the stories to show that the inhabitants of the house were haunted by ghosts of their own making—their former selves or former experiences— thereby bringing about a deeper understanding of life and human relations. As Fran Baker points out, Elizabeth Gaskell’s ghost story was well suited to this framework: a prodigal son, believed to be dead, returns to his parents’ home in a manner more threatening than any ghostly visitation. In order to make the story fit the framework, Dickens gave the story to a lawyer who had heard it from the judge who had presided over the case against the son and was still haunted by the memory of the faithful, suffering mother. Like most journalism, Dickens’s Christmas numbers disappeared into obscurity long before the twentieth century, but in recent years literary scholars have been unearthing them and looking at them through a twenty-first century lens. Fran Baker’s edition is one of a number of studies that consider the stories or poems from the point of view of the contributing writer in order to shed light on Dickens’s editorial methods and the difficulties of collaborative authorship.We know Dickens’s intentions, but how did the other writers feel about this literary production? Scholars concentrating on Wilkie Collins, Elizabeth Gaskell, or Adelaide Procter are inclined to find fault with Dickens’s editorial control—his adjusting and framing in order to achieve cohesion. Thus in her discussion of the re-publication of “The Ghost in the Garden Room” in different forms and collections (it was renamed “The Crooked Branch”) Fran Baker speaks of the story having been “rescued” from the ephemeral format of the Christmas number and from Dickens’s editorial hand. Baker takes issue with Dickens’s giving the story to a male narrator (the lawyer) to tell, and she argues that when Gaskell was able to publish the story apart from this framework she was able “to reinstate the single narrative voice articulating essentially female concerns, which had been suppressed by the double layer of male narration Dickens imposed on the tale.”The nature of the suppression is never clear, and elsewhere Baker provides excellent proof that the story as it 692 BOOK REVIEWS appeared in Dickens’s Christmas number was very much Gaskell’s, clearly related to her other work and deriving from her roots in the rural north of England. If the story “addressed some radical and specifically female concerns,” Dickens certainly approved of it and left those concerns in Elizabeth Gaskell’s able hands. That he chose to close the number with two engagements does not diminish her accomplishment. A large portion of Baker’s introduction is a model of textual analysis, tracing the story’s alterations as it moved from the Christmas number through a variety of collections and individual publications. Coincidentally, at least two editions of the complete 1859 Christmas number have been published in the past four years, so readers can now easily read “The Ghost in the Garden Room” in its original context (although Baker considers this “an interesting example of Dickens’s continued influence over Gaskell’s story”). Baker’s intention is to “stress Gaskell’s work as a cultural production” so “no single version of a text can ever be presented as the ‘correct’ one and no edition can ultimately be ‘definitive.’”We can only imagine how astonished Elizabeth Gaskell would be to find her thirty-six-page tale requiring, 140 years after her death, 120 pages of introduction and nearly fifty pages of notes. Concordia University College of Alberta RUTH GLANCY Le carte del “Sacro Tavolo”:Aspetti del Pontificato di Pio X dai documenti del suo archivio privato. Edited by Alejandro M. Dieguez and Sergio Pagano. 2 volumes. [Collectanea Archivi Vaticani, 60.] (Vatican City: Archivio Segreto Vaticano. 2006. Pp. cxvi, 1072. Paperback.) The pontificate of Pius X, Giuseppe Melchiore Sarto (1903 to 1914), was characterized by several doctrinal, juridical, and institutional issues, each helping to define the Church as it entered the twentieth century. Wavering between reaction and renewal, Pius X, sometimes referred to as “the pope of the Curia,” and his policies have themselves been the subject of controversy and conflicting interpretations. In this collection of documents from the private Vatican archives, the editors offer much insight into both the workings of this pontificate and the personal views and personality of the pontiff himself. This comprehensive and vast correspondence, both to and from Pius X as well as his personal secretaries, in particular Monsignor Giovanni Bressan, who had served the then Bishop Sarto of Treviso since 1885, is expertly organized by the editors to reflect the issues of the pontificate and the person of the pope himself. The first volume, which includes an extensive introduction, presents the correspondence, which, as the title notes, passed through the papal desk, or “sacro tavolo,” in the two categories of “Reforms” and “Large Themes.” The former includes reforms in “Sacred Music,” “the Universal Catechism,” and “Seminaries.”The latter deals with the major controversy of “Modernism,”“the BOOK REVIEWS 693 Catholic Press,” “Discipline of Clergy,” “Apostolic Visits,” and “Intellectual Matters.” This last category includes the letters exchanged between Pius X or his secretary and Monsignor Achille Ratti (later Pope Pius XI) in his role as prefect of the Ambrosian Library. Indeed, both volumes of “Sacro Tavolo” include the correspondence of the most prominent names, clerical and non-clerical, of the era, with the section on “Modernism,” for instance containing the letters from and to Alfred Loisy. Volume II organizes correspondences to the pontiff and his staff within the major categories of “Relations with the Episcopate,” “Concern for Cultural Patrimonies,” “The Cults of Saints and Relics,” “Religious Life,” “Church and State in Italy,” and “The Church in the World,” which had correspondence dealing with, in the case of the United States for instance, such issues as the Catholic immigrant communities and missionary activities in Alaska. Also there is the pontiff’s correspondence dealing with his great concern for the plight of the “Jews in Russia,” and in particular with the case of Menachiel Beilis and calumnious charges of ritual murder. This second volume concludes with a section devoted to “The Person of Pius X” as “Benfactor and Patron, and “Thaumaturge.” Once again it presents the correspondence with such personages of this pontificate as Mother Francesca Cabrini and Monsignor Giacomo Della Chiesa, later Pope Benedict XV, and Edward Cardinal Manning, as well as ordinary individuals, who wrote seeking the pontiff’s blessing and even his financial assistance. It can be said then that the scope of this work is to offer to students of the pontificate of Pius X, but obviously not only them, a wide view of the issues dealt with in the papers that crossed the papal desk (“sacro tavolo”) and this pope’s modus operandi (using the tools of this particular “secretariat”), in a way so as to perceive “from the inside” the climate and culture of the pontificate, and less relatively to its different aspects. As noted, the archives of this “secretariat,”so to speak, from which the materials are drawn have ended up dictating the editorial criteria of the various papers studied in this work. The great variety of the items that daily crossed the pontifical desk, their often unedited and even fragmented nature (in comparison to the equally complex items that the pontiff also received from the various curial offices), their singularity, all do not lend themselves in many cases to an easily organized thematic or chronological sequence. Nevertheless, the editors made an excellent effort to achieve a certain real homogeneity of the subjects. To maintain a sense of unity also, the authors tried to use coherent historical descriptions, especially in treating various subjects within the same particular piece of correspondence. While the vast majority of the correspondence dealt with is unedited, in certain rare cases the editors reprinted some already edited letters because of their connection to the other writings. All the documents have been scrupulously annotated, along the lines also of a singular theme, with special attention given to the persons and subjects 694 BOOK REVIEWS of the correspondences themselves. In the case of lesser-known individuals (including ecclesiastics) or events, the editors have also provided background data, which probably was not always easily available, so as to place the documents in a more accurate context. The transcription of the documents in this work follows the general criteria for editions of early twentieth-century sources. The very frequent use of capital letters, for example, in nouns and pronouns, especially as they refer to the pontiff, and as they are in the original documents are therefore generally maintained, but with some sense of editing. Therefore,“papa,”“cardinale,”“congregazione,”“sacro anello,” etc., will appear instead. Finally, special attention in given to the annotations or references made by the pope himself, especially in the frequent cases when Pius X had personally prepared the draft for a response. Such annotations and references carry also the formula “by the hand of Pius X,” and can serve too as another identifying and unifying aspect of the writings of the “sacro tavolo.” Fairleigh Dickinson University WILLIAM ROBERTS Russicum: Pioneers and Witnesses of the Struggle for Christian Unity in Eastern Europe. By Constantin Simon, S.J. Volume 1: Leonid Feodorov, Vendelín Javorka, Theodore Romža: Three Historical Sketches. (Rome: Opere Religiose Russe. Pontificio Istituto Orientale. 2001. Pp. 181);Volume 2: The First Years 1929-1939 (Rome: Opere Religiose Russe. 2002. Pp. 280.) The Catholic Church’s relationship with Russia and its Orthodox Church has long been difficult. To be sure, the Russian Empire included a significant number of Catholics, but almost all of them were ethnic Poles, Germans, or Lithuanians. During the reign of the autocratic Tsar Nicholas I (1825-1855), Orthodoxy was defined as the privileged religion of the country, and efforts to convert Orthodox to other faiths became punishable by imprisonment or Siberian exile. It was only in 1905, with Nicholas II’s Decree of Toleration, that most of these restrictions were lifted and Orthodox could once again legally become Catholic. Catholics were now free to carry out mission activity in the country during a brief period that would end with the Bolshevik Revolution in 1917. Officials in the Vatican were watching developments in Russia carefully. As an enormous country with strong Christian roots and a rich theological and spiritual heritage, there was a strong desire to find ways to reconcile the huge Russian church with the even larger Catholic one. Many came to believe that missionaries working among the Russian Orthodox could be successful only if they fully adapted themselves to Russian ways of thinking and became experts not only in Russian history and culture, but also in the Russian liturgical tradition, celebrating the liturgy in a way identical to the complex Orthodox prototype. BOOK REVIEWS 695 During the brief years of religious tolerance in Russia, these efforts led to the creation of a very small community of Russian Catholics of the Byzantine rite centered in St. Petersburg. It was composed mostly of a small band of westernizing intellectuals, and completely vanished with the onset of communist persecutions. But in the early years after the revolution, many Vatican officials were convinced that communism would be a horrific but short interlude in Russian history. Pope Pius XI (1922-1939) in particular wanted to prepare a well-trained group of priests who would be ready to enter the country as soon as the borders re-opened. Central to this project was the creation of a college in Rome where their training would take place. The Pope’s desires were fulfilled in 1929 when the Russian Pontifical College of Saint Therese of the Child Jesus—known as the “Russicum”—was opened. Constantin Simon, a Jesuit professor of church history at the Pontifical Oriental Institute in Rome, has provided a very useful two-volume history of these events. In the first tome, he furnishes historical sketches of three major personalities in the movement. The first, Leonid Feodorov (1879-1935), was an Orthodox convert who served as head of the small Byzantine-rite Catholic community in Russia, later condemned to a prison camp and death in internal exile. The second is Vendelín Javorka, S.J. (1882-1966), who, after guiding the Russicum for five years as its first rector, went in 1934 to work among Russians in Manchuria, and then in 1941 to the frontier province of Bukovina where he was arrested by the invading Soviet forces in 1944. A few months later he was sentenced to ten dreadful years in Soviet prisons (one of the four charges against him was “trying to reunite the Russian Orthodox Church to the Roman Catholic Church”), after which he was released to spend his remaining years in obscurity in his native Slovakia. And finally, there is the Russicum graduate Theodore Romža (1911-1947), the Greek Catholic bishop of Mukačevo, who was poisoned by the communists. Both Romža and Feodorov were beatified by Pope John Paul II during his visit to Ukraine in 2001. In the second volume, Simon traces the history of the foundation of the Russicum and the first ten years of its existence. The fascinating story is told with rich detail, and describes the many difficulties and controversies that had to be faced. It was not easy, first of all, to create an all-Russian environment in the midst of central Rome. The Jesuit staff was not of one mind when it came to attitudes toward the Orthodox: some were disdainful and supported whatever missionary efforts were necessary to convert them to Catholicism; others encouraged an attitude of respect that foreshadowed the sister-church relationship set forth at Vatican Council II. Some supported certain latinizations in the spirituality and liturgical practice at the Russicum, while others insisted on a perfect imitation of Russian traditions in these matters. It was also difficult to find ethnic Russian candidates for the college; in the end many were from the west but willing to immerse themselves totally in Russian ways in preparation for the great mission they thought would be theirs. Indeed, grandiose ideas were common at the time; many saw themselves as the vanguard of a huge 696 BOOK REVIEWS Catholic effort to convert Russia which, once this goal was achieved, would provide a base for a subsequent missionary thrust south into India and the rest of Asia. But communism would grind on for another several decades, and virtually all of the early graduates of the Russicum either faced severe punishment or martyrdom within the Soviet Union, or would spend their active years ministering to miniscule Russian Catholic communities in other parts of the world. The two volumes suffer somewhat from a number of typos, inconsistent transliteration of the Cyrillic, a fair amount of repetition of material and, above all, the absence of an index. These imperfections aside, remarkable stories of faithfulness and heroism are found within these pages, stories that need to be told and remembered. St. Paul’s College, Washington, D.C. RONALD G. ROBERSON In Defense of Christian Hungary: Religion, Nationalism, and Antisemitism 1890-1944. By Paul A. Hanebrink. (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press. 2006. Pp. x, 255. $39.95.) Rarely have I come across a more engaging, better composed study dealing with the relatively recent history of a small European country. Professor Paul A. Hanebrink earned my deepest admiration for his sharp discernment, transparent clarity, and elegant style in presenting a half-century history of the most turbulent times of modern-day Hungary. His numerous references, and an incredibly huge, comprehensive, up-to-date bibliography are indication of the massive research effort brought to fruition in this volume. True to Hanebrink’s stated goal, the focus of his attention is on the role of religion, more particularly that of the leadership of the established churches—notably the majority Roman Catholic Church and the largest of the Protestant churches, the Reformed or Calvinist Church—in fostering Hungarian nationalism and also the rise of anti-Semitism. The starting point for Hanebrink is the closing decade of the nineteenth century, when Hungarian political culture was dominated by the ideas of Western European Liberalism. It was the time when in the face of fierce opposition from the conservative Catholic hierarchy, but with the enthusiastic support from the Protestant leaders, clergy and lay alike, a number of laws were enacted by parliament, among them the law introducing civil marriage and the law on Jewish reception, granting the Jews not only full civic rights, which they already had, but also to the Jewish religion full equality with the established Christian churches. The bright picture which Hanebrink paints of the modern, liberal, secularizing Hungary, soon underwent somber changes during the Great War, and the chaotic times that followed. The defeated country was forced to cede two- BOOK REVIEWS 697 thirds of its historic lands with a third of its ethnic Hungarians to its enemies, the remaining rump being overwhelmed with refugees, while the government had been taken over in the fall of 1918 by well-meaning democrats, who were in March 1919 overthrown by doctrinaire Bolshevik communists. This “dictatorship of the Proletariat” led by Béla Kun lasted only until August 1919, but it left in its wake an indelible memory of unfulfilled promises, misery, terror, and also outrage over the desecration of religious and national symbols dear to the majority of Hungarians. Little wonder that these events caused a 180-degree turn toward rightwing nationalism in the minds of many people who placed the blame for the erosion of the traditional mores of Hungarians squarely on the shoulders of the laissez-faire Liberalism of the previous regimes and the Jews. The latter, compared to their small proportion in the overall population (5%), played an enormous role not only in the economy, but also in the cultural life and in politics. At no time was this more evident than during the 1919 Commune, when the political and cultural leadership, as well as the personnel of the terror squads, were almost totally of Jewish origin. The following twenty-five years had been the time of that “Christian Hungary” which gave the title to this book. As Hanebrink rightly observed, a purified, spiritually reborn Christian Hungary, which was the sincere desire of the leaders of the Christian churches and their committed followers, remained just a slogan for the politicians, and a rallying cry for the various rightwing groups and parties, a convenient cover for their anti-Semitic feelings and activities. For these people “Christian” had nothing to do with being followers of Jesus of Nazareth; it simply meant “non-Jewish” at best, a “hater of Jews” at its worst.The author eloquently demonstrates how during World War II, especially in its last year when Hungary—despite being allied to Germany, in the spring of 1944 was militarily occupied and politically subjugated by German troops— this anti-Semitic agitation culminated in the deportation and mass murder of over half a million Jewish citizens (including converts to Christianity) of that much vaunted “Christian Hungary.” Of course, it was not only Jews who suffered during this bloodiest phase of the war. All around millions were killed, raped, maimed, and bombed out of their homes. Nevertheless, the Shoah remains a singularly inhuman, most terrible event in human history. Having thus summarized the narrative of Hanebrink’s book, I feel compelled to point out some serious shortcomings of this otherwise much appreciated scholarly study. My first observation would concern the missing analysis of the roots of anti-Semitism, with the resulting lack of impartial objectivity in dealing with this complex and emotionally highly charged subject. While the central theme of his study is about the prevalence of anti-Semitism in “Christian” Hungary, leading to one of the greatest tragedies of history, the author fails to provide the reader with the easily available data of the magnitude of Jewish predominance in Hungarian economy and culture, their number among the university students, etc., a situation incomparably more acute than in any other country, including Germany. One finds the same lack of information about the 698 BOOK REVIEWS absolute prevalence of Jews among the leadership of the 1919 Béla Kun dictatorship. Informing the readers about the enormous imbalance between the wealth of a tiny minority, perceived as still aliens, as contrasted to the millions eking out a living in abject poverty—added to this the odium of their role in the 1919 Commune—would have shown that the “Jewish question” in Hungary was not merely a phantom invented by some Christian churchmen and assorted anti-Semites, but that it was a real problem, crying out for some remedy. (I purposely avoid the ominous sounding word “solution.”) Furthermore, it certainly does not do justice to the memory of the widely revered saintly Catholic bishop, Ottokár Prohászka to call him simply an antiSemite and quote only such words from him which sustain this charge, while ignoring his true religious genius, reforming zeal, his tremendous impact on the social conscience of all Hungarians, Catholics and Protestants. Similarly, the towering figure of Hungarian Protestantism, Reformed bishop László Ravasz, did not deserve to be dismissed as just another anti-Semite. Finally, the statement in the concluding paragraph of the book,“As deportation trains carried some 440,000 Hungarian Jews to Auschwitz, Hungary’s Christian churches were silent,” is definitely not true and could be explained only by the antiChristian, and pronouncedly anti-Catholic bias of the author which colors his writing throughout. It should be noted that a few pages before the above quoted sweeping statement the same author wrote about the negotiations and rescue efforts of the church leaders—true, it was largely unknown to the wide public at the time, but since then it has been published and, as his footnotes show, known to Hanebrink. Also in that the deportations were finally halted and thus the majority of Jews in Budapest survived, the churches played a pivotal role. Moreover, it is estimated that at least 30,000 Jews found shelter in Christian church institutions and about the same number were hiding with Christian families who were willing to risk their own freedom and even their very lives. The fact remains that in Hungary some 200,000 Jews survived the war, the largest number anywhere in Nazi-occupied Europe. One can say, of course, that all these rescue efforts were too little and too late. But the same can be said of all the governments and of all the nations who were witnesses to the horrors of the war but did little to prevent or end it. Concordia University, Montreal (Emeritus) LESLIE LASZLO The Crosses of Auschwitz: Nationalism and Religion in Post-Communist Poland. By Geneviève Zubrzycki. (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press. 2006. Pp. xx, 277. $67.50 clothbound; $27.50 paperback.) This is a brilliant book, both in terms of the author’s insights and depth of understanding, and in terms of the coherence and logic of her presentation of her material. Geneviève Zubrzycki, an assistant professor of sociology at the BOOK REVIEWS 699 University of Michigan, spent more than three years doing fieldwork in Poland, interviewing appropriate persons in Cracow, Katowice, Oś wie˛cim, and Warsaw, and visiting the sites she discusses in her book. In addition to onsite fieldwork, she also made extensive use of published materials in Polish, English, and French.The result is, she points out,“the only extensive sociological analysis of Polish nationalism that focuses on the post-Communist period” (p. 28), taking up her subject through the prism of controversies about the Auschwitz concentration camp. The symbolic center of focus for her is the War of the Crosses of Auschwitz, as it has been dubbed in journalistic accounts, which reached its climax in 1998-99, and the differing ways in which Poles and Jews have remembered what happened at Auschwitz during World War II. For Poles, the town known to most of the world as Auschwitz is Oświe˛cim, and, at the first level of meaning which Poles came to assign to the camp, it was remembered that Auschwitz was originally established as a detention center for Polish political prisoners, intellectuals, professionals, and priests; indeed, partly for that reason, Poles came to think of themselves as having been the principal martyrs at the camp (pp. 102-103). At a second level, Polish communists conflated the victims at Auschwitz into an opaque category of “Polish citizens,” thereby effectively making Jews invisible among the victims. As she notes, this served to turn the camp, for Polish communists and all who went to school in communist times, into a symbol not of the Holocaust but of the martyrdom of the anti-Nazi and anti-fascist resistance. And whereas the Jews remember Auschwitz as the place where between 1.1 million and 1.5 million persons were killed, 90% of them Jews (p. 114), Poles who went to school in socialist times were taught that Jews were only one of a number of groups to be liquidated at the camp. Polish communists inflated the number of dead at Auschwitz to some 4 million (p. 105). As late as 1995, a survey found that some three-quarters of adult Poles identified Auschwitz as “the place of martyrdom ‘of the Polish nation’ or ‘of several nationalities’” but did not show any awareness that the overwhelming majority of the victims at the camp had been Jews (p. 137). Finally, Catholic clergy and members of religious orders were among the first victims at Auschwitz; two of those who lost their lives there were later canonized: Fr. Maksymilian Kolbe, who had edited an anti-Semitic daily before the war, and Sister Teresia Benedicta (Edith Stein), a Jewish convert to Catholicism. The latter was executed because the Nazis considered her Jewish, but the Catholic Church has claimed her as a martyr for the Catholic faith. Because of these three levels of meaning connecting Auschwitz to a Polish national narrative, some Poles (such as Father Waldemar Chrostowski) have been hostile to what they have perceived as a programmatic “de-Polonization” of the former camp and appropriation of the site as an exclusive symbol of Jewish suffering. But, for the residents of the town of Oświe˛cim (which is adja- 700 BOOK REVIEWS cent to the site of the former concentration camp of Auschwitz), it is clear that the past haunts the present, as shown, for example, in the worldwide controversy when a disco opened in the town (p. 123). During the struggle over the crosses, Zubrzycki notes,“ Jews were offended, repulsed, hurt, and angered by the presence of the papal cross at Auschwitz, while many Poles were offended, hurt, and angered by demands to remove the symbol” (p. 213). Having learned their history differently, the placement of the cross inevitably came to be understood differently by Polish Catholics and by Jews. All in all, this is an impressive book and no university library should be without it. Norwegian University of Science & Technology Trondheim, Norway SABRINA P. RAMET American The American Religious Experience: A Concise History. By Lynn Bridgers. (Lanham, Maryland: Rowman and Littlefield Publishing Group. 2006. Pp. vii, 254. $65.00 clothbound; $22.95 paperback.) The paperbound edition of this book is clearly intended for classroom use and should do well in that setting. It is, to be sure,“a concise history,” and could be even more concise if repetitions, especially in the early chapters, were eliminated. Also, for the sake of concision, digressions into immigration history and world religions could be eliminated or abbreviated, as well as biographical sketches that divert attention from the main topic. In most of the chapters, the author is reluctant to stand as her own authority. She takes cover under the word “considered,” for example, the Bay Psalm Book is “considered the first book of any kind printed on American soil” (p. 17), or John Wesley “often considered the founder of the Methodists” (p. 23). In one brief paragraph (p. 23), the word “considered appears four times. The author needs to pronounce and defend her own judgments. After some early chapters devoted largely to colonial America, the author follows a topical outline that moves much closer to the present. She gives fair treatment to the Amish and the Mennonites, for example, as well as the Quakers and Shakers. In Chapter 8,“Bacon, Swedenborg, and Transcendentalism,” she provides more attention to Henry David Thoreau and John Muir than one might normally expect. Chapter 9 offers excellent treatment of antiCatholicism in the nineteenth century, but stops short of the twentieth, thereby missing such fine opportunities as Al Smith and John Kennedy. Chapter 10 on American Judaism, in contrast, does give ample attention to the twentieth century. A chapter on the transformation from established BOOK REVIEWS 701 Anglicanism to free market Episcopalianism is well done, though some attention to Jefferson’s Statute on Religious Freedom (1786) would have helped explain the necessity of this transition. Chapter 11 on “Lutherans, Germans, and Scandinavians” follows as best one can the many divisions in that denominational family based on ethnicity, theology, language, or geography, or some combination thereof. The author addresses the twentieth-century efforts to sharply reduce these many fragmentations. In the “Evolution of the Black Church” (Chapter 13), Professor Bridgers carefully describes the creation of the African Methodist Episcopal Church in 1816 and the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church in 1821. Unaccountably, however, she provides no comparable discussion of the much larger black Baptist bodies, the National Baptist Convention of the U.S.A. (1880), and a similarly named Convention organized in 1915. Chapter 14 focuses its attention more exclusively on “Baptists and Baptism,” though again no significant attention is given to the black Baptists. Remaining chapters treat a wide array of subjects: Pentecostalism, Hispanics, Native Americans, Mormons, as well as Chinese and Japanese immigrants with accompanying religious affinities. Her final chapter, “Pluralism and Periphery,” begins with welcome attention to William James and W. E. B. DuBois, then moves to reflections on unity and diversity, along with Americans’ embrace of the practical over the abstract. “American religion,” she writes,“demands a vibrancy that recognizes the importance of personal religious experience and creates channels through which the individual can share that religious experience with others” (p. 237). All of this provides much life and color to the “American religious landscape,” to use one of the author’s favorite phrases. Students should find here much to inform and entertain them. University of California, Riverside (Emeritus) EDWIN S. GAUSTAD Defying the Inquisition in Colonial New Mexico: Miguel de Quintana’s Life and Writings. Edited and translated by Francisco A. Lomelí and Clark A. Colahan. [Series on the Nuevomexicano Literary Heritage.] (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. 2006. Pp. xiv, 218. $39.95.) It is rare to have any written record concerning the spiritual reflections of the common person, let alone such an individual as Miguel de Quintana (b. 1677–d. 1748), who came from Mexico City to New Mexico as a settler of the Spanish frontier in 1694. The main reason for the preservation of Quintana’s spiritual verses was the use of the Office of the Inquisition as a political tool in an attempt to silence and castigate a voice of criticism against the local clergy of the small frontier Villa de Santa Cruz de la Cañada, the most northern European settlement of the Spanish Americas in the eighteenth century. 702 BOOK REVIEWS Francisco A. Lomelí and Clark A. Colahan present the literary voice of Miguel de Quintana to modern readers and successfully place him as an important figure of New Mexico’s literary tradition. Lomelí and Colahan’s careful analysis of Quintana’s spiritual verses reveals a personal spirituality firmly grounded in the Franciscan tradition of Roman Catholicism. The majority of the book consists of English translations and Spanish transcriptions of the various writings of Quintana, allowing readers of one or both languages access to these rare writings. The verses record the encouragement and guidance of “heavenly voices,” such as these words of the Queen of Heaven,“Do not dread suffering/ Suffer, because your hardships/ will find relief, Miguel/ for I will be there to intercede.” Evident in Quintana’s writings is the Franciscan emphasis on poverty and humility, as well as empathy and compassion for the suffering of Christ and the significant role of the Virgin Mary as intercessor. The fertile influence of the rich and deeply rooted Spanish Catholic tradition that flourished in Mexico City in the seventeenth century nourished the mind and spirituality of Quintana. Unfortunately, his personal motives for volunteering as a settler of New Mexico are not revealed in any of his surviving writings. As a husband and father Quintana sustained his family working as a farmer and a scribe. As a literate individual he was sought by others to record official civil and ecclesiastical proceedings, to write letters, and is known to have written coloquios, plays in the form of extended dialogue. Quintana’s criticism of a local Franciscan friar and his defiance of this friar’s demand to confess to him stirred a personality conflict that developed into a denunciation to the Inquisition in July, 1732. The formal basis of the denunciation centered on Quintana’s written spiritual prose and poetry, which local Franciscan clergy viewed as containing heretical assertions. Although Quintana maintained his innocence throughout the five years of investigation, he chose to bend as a reed with humility toward the authority of the Inquisition rather than to resist or push back. Following a recantation in 1737, he was exonerated, but only after experiencing much psychological and spiritual turmoil, which is apparent when reading his verses. In Part One of the book, Lomelí and Colahan lead the reader through the historical and cultural context of Quintana’s era with scholarly insights into the common elements of Quintana’s expression that show how his writings fit squarely within the accepted Spanish Roman Catholic mysticism and spiritual expression of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In Parts Two and Three they have compiled and organized Quintana’s poetry, letters, and essays from a variety of sources, many of which were transcribed from documents in Quintana’s handwriting. This book represents an important contribution toward the ongoing documentation of New Mexico’s literary tradition, a tradition that extends to the late 1500’s. It is also an exceptional source for understanding the personal expression and experience of Roman Catholicism in Spain’s North American frontier. Lakewood, Colorado JOSÉ ANTONIO ESQUIBEL BOOK REVIEWS 703 Faith and Boundaries: Colonists, Christianity, and Community Among the Wampanoag Indians of Martha’s Vineyard, 1600-1871. By David J. Silverman. [Studies in North American Indian History.] (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2005. Pp. xxiv, 303. $60.00.) Was adoption of Christianity by Native Americans necessarily the beginning of the end for distinct native cultures? Missionaries and colonists who worked to convert the Indians generally aimed not at mere personal salvation but rather the transformation of native ways into a more European (“civilized”) lifestyle. Recent historians intent on correcting long-held European biases in colonial history argue that, regardless of intentions, Christian evangelization represented a foreign force that, over time, invariably displaced native values and corroded community ties. That Christian conversion could actually have assisted some native bands in preserving their cultural identity has been argued less frequently. David Silverman joins those scholars who rigorously attempt to reconstruct an Indian point of view on the complex history of European and native interrelationships from the seventeenth century forward. In Faith and Boundaries, he asks how certain Wampanoag communities on Martha’s Vineyard (off Cape Cod, Massachusetts), after managing to avoid the open warfare with Puritan colonists that engulfed most mainland tribes, were able to survive into the nineteenth century and, after coping with enormous hardship and decline, retain even today a distinctive identity in an identifiable territory. His answers are subtle and manifold, but central to them is recognition of the agency of the Wampanoag themselves. Silverman finds that Christianity, rather than being a mere tool of European conquest, was deliberately wielded by the natives for their own cultural survival, albeit with great development and change over the two-hundred-seventy-year period he surveys. Silverman’s breadth of research, his clear and consistent line of analysis, and his skillful balance of engaging story-telling and detailed documentation, make the work a fascinating and valuable resource. Silverman’s analysis unfolds in seven chapters, each corresponding to a distinct cultural challenge faced by the Vineyard natives in the centuries following the English invasion: conversion, development of new communal institutions, English racial hatred, land encroachment, changes in leadership, indentured servitude for debt, and exogamous marriage to African Americans and other non-Indians. Each chapter strengthens Silverman’s case that the “resourcefulness and adaptability” of Christian Wampanoags allowed them to survive as a distinct community. The Indians relied on their own local Protestant church organization (first Congregational, then Baptist) to sustain the underlying communal values, many particular stories and customs, and for a considerable time even the language, of their ancestors. Silverman is careful not to draw a utopian picture of native and colonial coexistence on Martha’s Vineyard, making only the modest claim that here “the 704 BOOK REVIEWS two peoples managed to live in close proximity for hundreds of years without slaughtering one another” (p. 8). Although his argument challenges some standard interpretations of the actual and potential roles of Christianity in Native American history, he is in no way an apologist for the Puritan colonists. Indeed, he continually exposes their initial mixed motives, frequent outright hypocrisy, and ever-more-blatant racism.The narrative remains steadily focused on the Wampanoag response to the seemingly endless dilemmas forced upon them, and the reader senses in alternation the pride, puzzlement, curiosity, anger, and anxiety of the native community as the story of both their exploitation and their ongoing communal survival unfolds. The one lingering disappointment of the book is the unfulfilled promise of its title. Faith and Boundaries presents very effectively the development of Wampanoag Christian institutions and the surprising successes and dismal failures of Indians and Europeans in maintaining the constantly shifting cultural and physical boundaries between themselves.“Faith” in more than its superficial sense, however, never really focuses this narrative. Silverman dwells on the external function of religion, whether sincere or cynical, as a tool in the maintenance of the Indian communal identity. To this extent, although he intends to do so, he never fully succeeds in dismissing the frequently-heard charge that native “conversions” were necessarily more strategic than sincere. Although Silverman does not entirely ignore the issue, the reader waits in vain for indepth speculation on how deeper ethical, spiritual, and theological dimensions of Christian tradition (rather than Puritan culture) coincided with, complemented, transformed, or undermined native values. Such analysis would be particularly welcome in the discussion of the long years after it became clear that the Wampanoag could never become “Christian enough” to overcome the profound racial fears and hatred of the Europeans. Despite this drawback, however, Silverman presents a book that raises, even when it does not satisfyingly answer, many profound and provocative questions about the historical periods he examines, about the origins and ongoing nature of race relations in America, about the historical and theological purposes of Christian evangelization, and about the very meaning of culture, community, and their continuity. College of the Holy Cross WILLIAM A. CLARK, S.J. The Captors’ Narrative: Catholic Women and Their Puritan Men on the Early American Frontier. By William Henry Foster. (Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press. 2003. Pp. xi, 205. $29.95.) The Captors’ Narrative is a revelation.Through an intricate, sophisticated, and informed reading of archival material from French Canada and New England from 1690 to 1760, as well as through an ingenious “reading between the lines” of published Indian captivity narratives, William Henry Foster has BOOK REVIEWS 705 opened a new window onto the colonial period. For the first time, the meaning and significance of captivity for the captors (in this case, French Catholics in Canada) has been revealed, even as Foster reconstructs the experience of both captives and captors, especially as this was shaped by cultural constructions of gender and class. In the double-entendre in the title of a study, Captured by Texts: Puritan to Post-modern Images of Indian Captivity (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1996), I sought to suggest that, on the one hand, important pieces of historical and ethnographic information had been captured in the hundreds of published captivity narratives. On the other hand, these texts are not transparent windows onto the past, since every generation’s writers and narrators of these tales were themselves caught in cultural webs of signification that constrained the ways in which they could tell their stories. In his brilliant study, Foster affirms this point, extends it in important ways, and discloses the motives for capturing prisoners of war and engaging in the extensive trade in captives. Perhaps the most important contribution of The Captors’ Narrative is the disclosure of the important structuring role that gender played in both the experience of captivity and in the retrospective narration of captivity. New England Puritans regularly held collective days of humiliation, in which the community confessed its shortcomings and sins before God and asked for forgiveness. Foster, though, demonstrates that male captives suffered a different form of humiliation, both among the Indians and French Catholics, provoked by the captives’ forced assumption of female forms of labor. In different, but not dissimilar, ways, Indians and French Canadian women stripped male captives of their sense of manhood. Indians frequently cut off captives’ index fingers, making it impossible for them to engage in the male act of bow hunting. Instead, the male captives, who were not adopted to replace a deceased male relative, were relegated to doing women’s work—grinding and cooking corn, gardening, hauling firewood, and so on. In both Indian and French Catholic communities, male captives were largely under the direct control of women, a situation that inverted the expected “normal” gendered power relationships. Foster convincingly argues that the conspicuous silences in male-authored captivity narratives about the captives’ lives under the thumb of women are the direct result of the humiliation these men experienced. As a result, the power and agency of women in the colonial world has been largely effaced from the historical record. Foster masterfully reconstructs the important roles that French Catholic women played in the colonial period. With husbands frequently away from home, engaging in the fur trade or military service, women managed farms, businesses, and estates. Catholic sisters also exercised important social and economic power. Most readers will be surprised to learn that Catholic nuns and secular women both participated in the slave and captive trade networks in the New World. Just as Katherine Burns has disclosed the critical social, 706 BOOK REVIEWS political, and economic power cloistered women exercised in colonial Peru (Colonial Habits: Convents and the Spiritual Economy of Cuzco, Peru [Durham: Duke University Press, 1999]), Foster demonstrates the ways female agency was enabled and exercised in the North American context. The Captors’ Narrative is a ground-breaking contribution to our understanding of the importance of gender and class in the colonial period. The University of Missouri-Kansas City GARY L. EBERSOLE Children of Coyote, Missionaries of St. Francis: Indian-Spanish Relations in Colonial California, 1769-1850. By Steven W. Hackel. [Early American History and Culture, Published for the Omohundro Institute of Williamsburg, Virginia.] (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. 2005. Pp. xx, 476. $59.95 clothbound; $22.50 paperback.) Steven Hackel’s book, Children of Coyote, Missionaries of St. Francis: Indian-Spanish Relations in Colonial California, 1769-1850, examines the Spanish Franciscans’ treatment of the indigenous Indian population and traces the history of the California missions from their beginnings through the period in which Mexico secularized the missions. In his first chapter, Hackel described the pre-contact Indians as having a flexible government and society that was well adapted to the environment and was able to meet the short- and long-term needs of the community including trade, food, and healthcare. Hackel used this description as a contrast to his portrayal of the missions that he saw as bringing cultural devastation to that part of the world. Assessing the environmental impact of the settlers, Hackel maintained that the rapid growth of the Spanish herds and the introduction of new plant species upset the local ecological balance and the traditional hunting and gathering lifestyle of the Indians. The introduction of diseases, especially syphilis, that spread quickly through the Indian population in the missions combined with the low birth rates resulted in a steadily decreasing Indian population. Hackel describes the missions as places of horrible suffering and death, punctuated by the senseless beating of Indians by the Franciscans. Hackel has a dim view of the Franciscans’ religious program. Rather than trying to adapt to the Indians’ beliefs or trying to build on them, the Franciscans, Hackel maintains, simply tried to eradicate the Indians’ religious beliefs, which the Franciscans saw as demonic. Unwilling to learn the Indians’ languages, the friars sought to further the destruction of Indian culture by imposing the Spanish language. Hackel repeatedly uses the term “indoctrination” to describe the Franciscans’ efforts to instruct the Indians, in order to convey the idea that the Franciscans forced the unwilling Indians to memorize prayers and follow the strict morals of the Catholic Church. In Hackel’s book, accounts of anything positive that the missionaries accomplished are quite rare. At these missions, evangelization, for Hackel, consisted of pressur- BOOK REVIEWS 707 ing and humiliating any Indians who sought to maintain their traditional beliefs, and whipping those who violated the morals of the Church; indeed Hackel says that the “Franciscans considered violence toward Indians integral to their missionary approach. . .” (p. 326). Hackel is truly tireless in providing criticism of the Franciscans: the friars used soldiers to force labor from the Indians, they arranged marriages for the Indians, they humiliated them with intrusive questions prior to marriage, they “scrutinized Indians’ sexuality and marital fidelity” (p. 200), and the “Franciscans no doubt pressured the young to marry early. . .” (p. 216). Hackel frequently uses phrases like “the Indians might have,”“could have,”“must have,”“perhaps,” and “doubtless” to vent his own criticisms of the Catholic doctrine since he has no evidence to support these musings. For example, Hackel says,“Catholicism’s strict linking of marriage and sexuality could have only intensified the emotional burdens that accompanied rape” (p. 225-226). The following is another of the many examples of Hackel’s enthusiasm for speculation: “Perhaps adding to the Indian’s frustration and consternation was a Catholic provision known as the Pauline Privilege. . . .Yet, from these exceptions, Indians might have come to wonder why the Franciscans insisted that no marriages were dissoluble. . .” (p. 192). In his introduction, Hackel further illustrates his personal aversion to the Catholic conception of marriage when he says, “The Indians encountered a Catholic system that insisted upon uncompromising adherence to monogamy and marital fidelity yet contradicted itself in tolerating or pardoning exceptions” (p. 3). Furthermore, Hackel has no problem explaining why Indians left the missions, but he is rather puzzled concerning those Indians who accepted the Catholic faith. “What lay behind these Indians’ seeming embrace of Catholicism is not clear” (p. 162). He, nevertheless, hastens to explain, through a syllogism of several “most likely” and “might have” phrases, that the Indians accepted Catholicism because the Christian cross was similar to the Indian “prayer poles,” and the Virgin Mary was similar to an Indian fertility goddess. This explanation certainly clears up the mystery of the Indians’ conversion beyond any reasonable doubt. On the positive side, Hackel’s lively book is filled with copious details and engaging statistics. If you have an interest in average annual crude birth rates, crude death rates, fertility rates, and tables outlining the monthly distribution of births and conceptions, you will find this book fascinating.The availability of such detail in statistics, however, leads the reader to wonder why Hackel was not capable of finding any details concerning the Franciscans’ theological ideas with respect to the missions. “Doubtless” the Franciscans “must have” been so tired from punishing the Indians that they had no energy left for theological inquiry. “Perhaps” Hackel needs to restrain himself from mixing his personal views on Catholicism with the history of the missions. Marist College ROSS ENOCHS 708 BOOK REVIEWS Charles Carroll of Carrollton: Faithful Revolutionary. By Scott McDermott. (New York: Scepter Publishers. 2002. Pp. 352. $24.95.) Faithful and revolutionary. Catholic and American. So the portrait of Charles Carroll emerges from the pages of this most recent biography of the sole Catholic signer of the Declaration of Independence. Relying primarily on secondary sources, McDermott presents an engaging introduction to the life of Charles Carroll and his family. After noting “the Signer’s” inauspicious origins at the illegitimate son of Charles Carroll of Annapolis, McDermott presents a summary history of the English Reformation. This four-page treatment of an enormous subject, which suggests that Henry VIII’s actions in subverting the Church in England owed their philosophical justification to the ideas of William Ockham and John Duns Scotus, should not have been attempted. Additionally, current authorities on the Calvert family will wince at McDermott’s suggestion that the founder of Maryland, George Calvert, was forced to resign from the government of King James I after he had “announced his Catholicism publicly.” These early stumbles appear to be the result of an over-reliance on some outdated and tendentious secondary sources. Basing his text on the more recent scholarship of Thomas O’Brien Hanley, Ronald Hoffman, and Sally Mason, McDermott’s narrative is on firmer ground when he takes up his discussion of the Carroll family. Following the earlier work of Hanley, McDermott asserts that Charles Carroll’s education at the Jesuit exile school of St. Omer’s was pivotal in forming his political ideas. St. Omer’s exposed the future founding father to the political writings of the Spanish Jesuit, Francisco Suarez.This instruction, and more importantly, his preference for the political philosophy of Montesquieu over that of Locke, led Carroll to maintain that the American experiment would reach its greatest potential as a republic rather than as a strict democracy founded on general suffrage. This discussion of the probable influences on Carroll’s political thinking is interesting. However, McDermott’s sudden leap at this point from the eighteenth century into the culture wars of the twenty-first century inserts a polemical tone into his account. Carroll’s development as a political leader in Maryland and a Revolutionary War patriot occupies the largest portion and forms the most interesting part of McDermott’s book. The Carroll family’s status as one of the wealthiest in the American colonies had shielded them from most of the social disabilities associated with anti-Catholicism.Yet only the general furor in the years leading up to the Revolution would enable Charles Carroll to rise above the weight of religious prejudice to take a leading part in moving Maryland to renounce its allegiance to Crown and Parliament. In describing Carroll’s role as an emissary of Congress, (along with John Carroll and Benjamin Franklin) to enlist Canadian support for the revolution, McDermott cites a remark of John Adams that Carroll was “a Roman Catholic but an ardent patriot” as if the two were mutually exclusive. Apart from a few lapses, this book provides an interesting account of how Charles Carroll “the Signer” was truly faithful and revolution- BOOK REVIEWS 709 ary, Catholic and American. McDermott’s work is a good introduction to the life and times of Charles Carrroll for the general reader. Archdiocese of Washington RORY T. CONLEY The Word in the World: Evangelical Writing, Publishing, and Reading in America, 1789–1880. By Candy Gunther Brown. (Chapel Hill and London: The University of North Carolina Press. 2004. Pp. xv, 336. $59.95 clothbound; $19.95 paperback.) Candy Gunther Brown, an assistant professor of American Studies at Saint Louis University, in The Word in the World: Evangelical Writing, Publishing, and Reading in America, 1789–1880, investigates how book cultures work and specifically how the evangelical print culture of the nineteenth century sought to transform American society. Her book covers the period from the establishment of the first evangelical printing house, the Methodist Book Concern in 1789, to the publication of Lew Wallace’s evangelical best-seller, Ben-Hur, in 1880. In her interpretation of the evangelical experience, she argues that conversion is the beginning, and not the end, of that experience and that the evangelical impulse that motivated religious groups to enter the commercial marketplace did not become the secularizing experience that recent scholars have suggested. Evangelicals saw themselves as set apart from Roman Catholics by their reliance upon the Bible as sole religious authority and by their belief in the priesthood of all believers. These views united evangelicals into a Church Universal even though they were separated by denominations and doctrine. More important than their differences was the evangelical conviction that they were a community of pilgrims moving through the world together toward eternal life. The growth of print culture in the nineteenth century was made possible by the spread of literacy, technological innovations such as the steam press, and improvements in transportation and the postal system. By 1850 there were 400 publishing firms in the United States, and virtually every major firm had a denominational affiliate. Evangelicals entered the world of publishing because they recognized the significance of print culture, and they hoped, by joining it, to sanctify that culture. Brown defines this process in terms of presence and purity: evangelicals were determined to establish a presence in the publishing world, but equally determined to maintain their purity in it. She refers to this effort as “a balancing act,” as she describes the efforts of evangelical editors, most lacking editorial or commercial experience, to reach a market of consumers without being contaminated by the marketplace. Perhaps the most interesting sections of this book are those which deal with two issues still critical to publishing: editorial control and copyright. 710 BOOK REVIEWS Most evangelical editors were ministers who saw their publications as extensions of their pulpits. Many readers, however, regarded themselves as participants in the discourse, empowered by the belief in the priesthood of believers to challenge editorial control. These tensions were largely missing from Roman Catholic publications, which numbered sixty by 1850, because of a tradition of hierarchical control of doctrine. Prior to the 1840’s, no journal exercised copyright, and there was no international standard until 1891. Evangelicals believed that religious writing belonged to the whole community of believers rather than to individual authors, and editors freely appropriated texts, altered, condensed, and added to them as they chose, rarely paying a royalty or even recognizing the author. Brown cites the case of the English evangelical Edmund Bunny, who happened upon the writing of the Jesuit, Robert Parsons, in 1585, and finding it “too good to be lost,” proceeded to “cut the Popery out,” and reissued the work in his own name (p.79). His example set the tone all the way to the end of the nineteenth century when some evangelicals were still arguing against copyright. In the end, evangelicals transformed neither the world nor the print culture, though they left their mark on both. As Brown concludes in her well researched study, the evangelical sense of identity as a band of pilgrims set apart ultimately removed them from the world they hoped to transform. Austin, Texas PATRICIA S. KRUPPA Horse-and-Buggy Mennonites: Hoofbeats of Humility in a Postmodern World. By Donald B. Kraybill and James P. Hurd. (University Park: The Pennsylvania State University Press. 2006. Pp. xii, 362. $40.00 clothbound; $19.95 paperback.) The subtitle,“hoofbeats of humility in a postmodern world,” encapsulates the book’s contents. This study is about the Groffdale Mennonite Conference, 33% of whose population of about 18,000, live in Lancaster county in Pennsylvania. This group, often referred to as Wengers, is now located in nine states. Canadian Old Orders are not included. Numerous interviews, some with tape recorders, and participant observation, are the basis of data gathering, with astute analysis. Numerous direct quotations from interviews are used; in a few cases there are gentle critiques of their own practices. The peculiar life style of these horse-and-buggy Mennonites is vividly portrayed: clothing, business and farming methods, family, church rule, entertainment, education, youth and values, to name a few. The authors push us to go beyond visual appearance, beyond any quick and simple judgement. The writers show the Old Order rationale of their culture, and subtly appeal to postmoderns to examine where modernity, technology, and individualism have possibly impaired us. BOOK REVIEWS 711 The wheel, its hub, spokes, and rim show us much of Old Order life (Chapter 3). Wheels relate to: transportation buggies, horse-drawn wagons, tractors, fork lifts, lawn mowers, and most importantly, tractors and cars.Which vehicle(s) might use a rim of steel, solid rubber or be air inflated? Old Orders recognize that one is viewing something much larger than mere steel and rubber. The question addresses comfort, efficiency, more speedy transportation, a potential loss of identity, individualism, and a compromise with the world, of which the Old Orders are to be “separate.” Old Orders do not subject themselves to the flow and breaks of our calendar. The church calendar, such as Christmas, Easter, and Ascension are more valid than state and labor holidays.The four seasons of the year, night and day, morning and evening are central.Work is God-given and pleasurable, enriching life. Parents delight in being with their children throughout the day. Many fathers choose to work at home in close proximity to their family, rather than an eight-hour shift away from home, which would give them more money. Similarly, a one-room school within two miles from home is preferred to a school bus pickup to a distant town where questionable values and behavior are tolerated. Parents make every effort to initiate their young adult offspring in business, preferably a farm, often at tremendous cost. Community and church take precedent over the accumulation of money and conspicuous consumption. These people are a persevering group. We see significant divisiveness within this community in 1812, 1893, and 1927, as well as potential splits between and after these historic points.We recognize the constant, very careful balance within and between clergy and lay folk, all to hold the principles of tradition, the Ordnung (rules of the church), and life in their contemporary world. Clergy are the pivotal center of change. “If (they) grow(s) too strict, young people may not join. . . . If too lax, the flock may stray into danger” (p. 93).“. . . [C]hange involves the delicate work of moving cultural fences without tearing them down”(p. 210). Choices are pondered, at times over a twenty-year period, and rational/reasonable choices are made. Modern and postmodern folk will not understand Old Orders unless comprehending the meaning of an old Anabaptist concept, Gelassenheit. This word “. . . captures the deepest root value of Old Order life. . . . (It) carries multiple meanings of—yieldedness, surrender, submission, humility, calmness. (It) stands in contrast to the individualism of American culture” (p. 27). For Old Orders, Gelassenheit means surrendering to God, to the authority of the church, and to one another. One is meek, willing to suffer, rather than defending oneself. Thus the authors frequently refer to a “redemptive” community, because this is the fulcrum of life and meaning. The adoption of Gelassenheit goes beyond the church. It impacts one’s life style in terms of association with the world. Most importantly, it effects modernization. It is not a simple question of adopting cell phones, a computer, or 712 BOOK REVIEWS an automatic washer. Such decisions go beyond whether one can afford, or would profit with the possession. Thus the community carefully and cautiously selects the item(s), as well as the timing of change. The clergy readily state that any item may not be sin in itself, but may have a bearing on other community members: a possible shift in an unwanted direction. Old Orders believe face-to-face relations are crucial to a meaningful wholesome life. Automobiles (television and computers) exponentially expand one’s horizons, at the expense of meaningful relationships with one’s family and those in one’s immediate geographical surroundings. These items uproot Godgiven presuppositions of good living. Kraybill and Hurt address modernity as it relates to Old Orders in the last chapter. Modernity focuses upon worldview and values, as well as structures of social organization. The chapter carries provocative subtopics such as “Selective Modernization,”“A Different View of Progress,” and, finally,“Humility in a Post Modern World.”The authors view the five dimensions of modernity for Old Orders as technology, separation, abstraction, choice, and individuation. They raise larger questions for our society, such as the cost of progress. The reader receives no assistance from the authors in critiquing this Christian community. Has the writers’ high regard for this population, and their own Mennonite sympathies, given them license to step over this academic vigor? The book is superbly written, giving an insightful, thorough, detailed portrayal of Old Order Mennonite life. It is the first of its kind, a monumental contribution. Wilfrid Laurier University (Emeritus) JOHN F. PETERS A Coat of Many Colors: Religion and Society along the Cape Fear River of North Carolina. By Walter H. Conser, Jr. (Lexington:The University Press of Kentucky. 2006. Pp. xi, 372. $50.00.) In A Coat of Many Colors, Walter H. Conser, Jr., has greatly advanced our knowledge and understanding of religion and its role in the lives of North Carolinians of the Cape Fear region of the state.The Cape Fear area, embracing nine counties in southeastern North Carolina through which flow the Cape Fear River, Northeast Cape Fear River, and their tributaries, played a conspicuous role in the onset of the American Revolution, maritime commerce and railroading in the nineteenth century, the American Civil War, and the world wars and shipping industry in the twentieth century. Anchored by the port of Wilmington in the southeast, the region from the outset displayed a cosmopolitanism and hence a miscellany of religious sentiment unusual, if not unique, to North Carolina. With a masterly grasp of his subject, Conser offers an inclusive examination of religion in the Cape Fear. He successfully recounts his story on three levels. BOOK REVIEWS 713 First, A Coat of Many Colors is a regional history with a focus on Wilmington. According to Conser, over more than two centuries Wilmington was “something” of a microcosm of the religious growth and diversity evidenced throughout the Cape Fear. Second, the author places the religious experience of the Cape Fear against the larger backdrop of the American South, which permits the exploration of such themes as the religious establishment in the colonial era, the development of religious toleration, the experience of the evangelicalism of the Second Great Awakening, the appearance of associations devoted to moral reform, the importance of race, and the increasing religious diversity occasioned by immigration. Third, and on a more abstract plane, Conser considers the dichotomous tension between the traditionalist and modernist approaches to religion, characterized as “a turn away from the authority of hierarchy, custom, and institutions . . . toward self-autonomy and individual expression”(p. 4). Conser casts a wide net, at least chronologically. He opens with a chapter on Native Americans and concludes with the early twenty-first century, but throughout he centers on Wilmington and its environs, where currently religion in many manifestations may be found: various Protestant denominations; Roman Catholicism; Orthodox and Reform Judaism; Islam; Mahayana, Theravada, and Vajrayana Buddhism; the Metropolitan Community Church (a ministry to homosexuals, bisexuals, and transsexuals); the Covenant of Cape Fear Pagans; and more. Variety indeed characterized the Cape Fear religious experience, justifying the title of this volume. Additionally, although properly cast as a monographic study, A Coat of Many Colors considers religion within the broad context of Cape Fear society. In the process the author provides the reader with a compendium of information about North Carolina life over several centuries, including subjects as diverse as archaeology, immigration patterns, architecture, sanitation, and World War II.This volume must be appreciated not only as a disquisition on religion but more broadly as a useful reference work for the Cape Fear region. A Coat of Many Colors is a finely crafted, meticulously researched, and thoroughly documented survey of a subject that has received little attention in North Carolina and the Cape Fear region. Scholars particularly, but lay readers as well, will find this volume to be a valuable addition to their libraries. University of North Carolina Wilmington ALAN D.WATSON The Civil War as a Theological Crisis. By Mark A. Noll [The Steven and Janice Brose Lectures in the Civil War Era.] (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006. Pp. xii, 199. $29.95.) Historians have argued for years about what caused the Civil War: slavery, social differences between North and South, economic differences, or a failure 714 BOOK REVIEWS of politics. Now Mark A. Noll suggests a new entry: irreconcilable differences over what the Bible had to say about slavery. In a fascinating proposition, Noll argues that differing understandings of the Bible helped drive the wedge between Americans who supported slavery and those who did not. The fundamental question was whether to believe the Old Testament ideas that seem to endorse bondage or to take the larger message of the New Testament, which promotes empathy and compassion. One problem with the Old Testament view, which was favored by slaveholders and their supporters, is that it ignored the fact that slavery in the Old Testament was not necessarily permanent, especially if the slave converted, nor did it extend to a slave’s children. Noll points out this flaw particularly well when he examines Europeans’ take on the American argument. The obvious problem with the New Testament, the view favored by those opposed at least to the extension of slavery, is that it never refutes slavery directly. And what about the abolitionists? They undermined their own cause early on, Noll says, by rejecting any part of the Bible that did not agree with their point of view. Because of the particular way Americans absorbed the Enlightenment, they could not agree to disagree over varying interpretations of the Bible. The Enlightenment had made Americans certain they could divine the truth, and anyone who disagreed with their view was flat-out wrong.Then, as now, this made biblical interpretation a fraught, contentious, and ultimately deeply divisive issue that helped drive the nation to war. This is a very promising argument, but Noll’s project has shortcomings. The most gnawing is that he focuses almost exclusively on a small cadre of intellectuals and theologians, yet makes broad claims for American society based on this narrow sample. There is little evidence of how deeply these theological arguments penetrated into the consciousness of regular Americans. Noll offers a glimpse here and there, but not enough to support the extent of his assertions. Noll is willing to look to more popular sources such as the London Times in his excellent chapters on the European view of the American debate. This raises the obvious question of why he did not use that kind of material, along with letters and diaries, for his discussion of the domestic dispute. My second criticism has to do with the title and its relation to the contents. This book is really about the antebellum era, not the Civil War, as a theological crisis. Noll says little about the war itself. At best, it is mentioned glancingly in a single chapter (the Europeans get two chapters). Did the war itself present so little in the way of theological crisis? How did preachers explain the hundreds of thousands of dead and wounded men? The suffering of their families and of refugees forced out of their homes by war? How did the men who had rationalized slavery through the Bible explain emancipation, either during or after the war? How could they square that with their antebellum views? In the introduction, Noll posits that the breakdown of antebellum arguments helped secularize the nation after the war, but again, this tantalizing statement BOOK REVIEWS 715 receives only brief treatment in the body of the book. This leaves one to wonder whether it was disillusionment with the arguments, disillusionment with God, or a new interest in science that prompted some Americans to turn their backs on religion. The Civil War as a Theological Crisis is an intelligent, nuanced look at theologians in the antebellum period. The book offers a convincing argument about the breakdown in their discourse, but fails to follow through on its promises of broader reception, a wartime view, or the postbellum fallout. University of Kansas JENNIFER L.WEBER American Sanctuary, Understanding Sacred Spaces. Edited by Louis P. Nelson. (Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press. 2006. Pp. xiv, 280. $65.00 hardbound; $24.95 paperback.) This fascinating collection of essays seeks bravely to “redefine the study of American sacred space.” Its articles consciously foreground the “multifarious,” tracking the most varied of sacral allusions in this country’s contemporary environment. Collectively they illustrate how sacred space, while perhaps undergoing an atomization due to our nation’s increasingly diverse character, has far from lost its relevance to the average citizen.The case studies are broadening and often riveting. As the volume argues, American sacred practices have expanded well beyond traditional “places of worship” and “institutionally sanctioned ritual.” Thus our analytical techniques must cast a “wide net” as well. The editor shapes this volume around the “everyday beliefs and practices of the laity,” seeking to expand beyond typical definitions of the sacred such as Eliade’s ontological marking of a center or the Platonic Tradition’s conflation of beauty with the holy. The volume explores numerous examples that under those definitions might be considered too lightly inscribed, too sociopolitical, too unstable, or too contested to qualify traditionally as sacred space. Most intriguing about this volume is its focus on sacred space, in contrast to a more typical focus on sacred buildings. Several of the volume’s most fascinating essays explore how various religious markers have been used to delimit and identify sacred precincts with little or no dependence upon, or reference to, the design of an all-encompassing, physically built surround. The Hebrew traditions of the eruv (amalgamating many dwellings into a single communal “domain” for ritual purposes) and the mezuzah (an exterior doorpost scroll indicating Jewish observance within the home) show communities or families subtly tracing sacred lines or gateways within otherwise undifferentiated, secular space. Contemporary expressions are contrasted with historical cases, showing how modern life can simultaneously empower and erode such non-brick-and-mortar devices. Other articles explore evocations of the 716 BOOK REVIEWS sacred in wide-open spaces such as in New York’s Central Park, traditionally African-American yard show displays, and cemeteries. An essay on our National Mall in Washington explores how memorials interweave the sacred with messages of politics and power and thus socially energize vast surrounding spaces in unstable but nonetheless potent ways. The breadth of faiths studied is another strength. Many traditional religions—Anglican, Catholic, Congregationalist, Jewish, and so forth—are examined anew in the evolving and challenging context of the American melting pot. For Catholic sacred space, the financial realities and awkward fate of disused urban churches in “Rust Belt” locations are trenchantly contrasted with the new trend toward huge downtown showcase cathedrals in rapidly growing Hispanic communities like Los Angeles. Longstanding faiths that are new to America also receive attention: an essay examines, for example, how rapidly growing faiths here like the Hindu tradition conduct their public debut. In addition, altogether new and dynamic American sacred trends, such as the Evangelical mega-church-cum-community-center, are opened for scholarly analysis. The volume balances its contemporary coverage with several essays on very specific and poignant details of eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century American meetinghouses and parish churches. One overall concern with the volume is coverage of the period 1865 to 1945, when the vast majority of sacred spaces in America were built. On this period the collection is largely silent—offering just the brief, retrospective “Rust Belt” example. Those years were redolent with formalized liturgical hierarchy, gradual development of architectural form, and the expression of relatively continuous, though evolving, traditions.This is no less American than our contemporary shift toward atomization. One would have wished for more on this absent period to generate an effective contrast with the volume’s incisive studies of recent times. By so fervently seeking an alternative methodology for today, a prior century-long trend drops from view. Another concern is whether this volume’s everyday-oriented and quite personal approach, invigorating as it is, ultimately has the same potential to help us compare, analyze, and classify varied examples of sacred space as do other definitions such as Eliade’s. The collection’s final essay suggests such a methodology by parsing the fine distinctions of creed, ritual practice, and code. In actual application, though, the results seem quite conventional. Nonetheless, again and again the volume delivers on its promise to shake the cobwebs from sacred space studies, examine seriously the field’s periphery, and see it afresh from the eyes of a contemporary citizen navigating this plethora of ways to find “sanctuary” in the United States today. Overall, this wide net offers many rewards. The Catholic University of America RANDALL OTT BOOK REVIEWS 717 Gothic Arches, Latin Crosses: Anti-Catholicism and American Church Designs in the Nineteenth Century. By Ryan K. Smith. (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. 2006. Pp. xiv, 224. $55.00 clothbound; $19.95 paperback.) Seen on millions of necklaces and along roadsides throughout the land, the Latin cross is the pre-eminent symbol of Christianity in the United States. For many Americans, a cross surmounting a structure with pointed-arch (Gothic) windows filled with stained glass constitutes the iconic image of a church.The ubiquity of these symbols today makes it difficult to recall that in the early nineteenth century most Protestant denominations regarded the display of crosses and the presence of items such as candlesticks and flowers on communion tables as Roman Catholic affectations. In Gothic Arches, Latin Crosses: Anti-Catholicism and American Church Designs in the Nineteenth Century, Ryan K. Smith traces the often acrimonious process by which Protestants adopted features of Catholic church design and worship settings as their own. Counter-intuitively, the context for these appropriations was not ecumenical but an era of virulent anti-Catholicism. Dr. Smith is assistant professor of history at Virginia Commonwealth University. This concise, well-written book is based on his doctoral dissertation at the University of Delaware (2002). Smith argues that American Protestants adopted Catholic iconography in response to a complex set of circumstances including the rapid and highly visible expansion of Roman Catholicism in the middle decades of the nineteenth century, appreciation of the roles emotion and the senses can play in directing the attention of congregants towards God, and broad aspirations among Americans for cultural refinement and material comfort. Chapters dedicated to “The Cross,”“The Gothic,” and “The Flowers,” provide case studies of Protestant appropriations of Catholic imagery: use of the Latin cross, construction of Gothic Revival churches, and the embellishment of worship services with flowers, candles, and robed choirs. Assimilation of such features was widespread by the end of the nineteenth century, but the pace and degree of change was not uniform. Smith effectively guides the reader from broad patterns to specific examples drawn from close readings of contemporary journals that reveal how denominations and individual congregations grappled with (or ignored) the inherent contradictions between their anti-Catholicism and appropriation of Catholic imagery. The embrace of Gothic architecture was a particularly complex matter. Although Gothic cathedrals and parish churches continued to serve Catholics (and Protestants) throughout Europe, new churches in the early nineteenth century typically were classical structures based on the conventions of Renaissance architecture. The return to Gothic in the middle decades of the century was as much a revival for Catholics as it was for Protestants.While Catholics did not have to search their souls on the matter of the doctrinal appropriateness of ornate churches, they did have to con- 718 BOOK REVIEWS sider the cultural associations of a Gothic (or Romanesque) design and its effectiveness in stirring the hearts of the faithful and the curious. Protestants and Catholics drew on common sources, such as the writings of the architect A. W. N. Pugin (1812-1852), shared architects, and watched each other closely for any evidence of competitive advantage. The appropriation of Gothic imagery was a two-way street. Gothic Arches, Latin Crosses is a valuable addition to the literature on American church design. Smith brings together strands of research on the histories of the Roman Catholic Church, Protestantism, and architecture that too often have been viewed in isolation and convincingly demonstrates how they interlock as threads of a shared story. University of Texas at Austin RICHARD CLEARY Race, Religion, Region: Landscapes of Encounter in the American West. Edited by Fay Botham and Sara M. Patterson. (Tucson: University of Arizona Press. 2006. Pp. x, 190. $40.00.) These eight essays seek further to enrich historical analysis of the American West with what the editors term the “three R’s” of race, religion, and region. The first three chapters explore religion and community formation in early twentieth-century Los Angeles.William Deverell and Mark Wild examine Social Gospel minister G. Bromley Oxnam’s Church of All Nations in Los Angeles, which served a diverse working-class population but also came under fire from conservative defenders of Americanism in the 1920’s. Michael E. Engh’s essay focuses on a liberal Catholic Americanizer, Mary Julia Workman, who established the Brownson Settlement House in Los Angeles in 1901.With a clientele composed primarily of Japanese and Mexican laborers,Workman also faced a growing chorus of 100 Percent Americanism after World War I. Daniel Cady, in a study of Robert Shuler and the Ku Klux Klan, argues that historians have not been as cognizant of the cultural impact of white transplants from the South, particularly upon Midwesterners living in southern California. This helps explain the success of Shuler’s Trinity Methodist Church, South, and the Klan as examples of a “general appropriation of southern social strategies by nonsouthern whites” (p. 42). Together, these three essays demonstrate the prodigious challenges that faced those seeking to resolve racial and religious tensions by advocating tolerance of diversity. Chapters four through six explore “how physical bodies shaped religious and racial encounters in the West” (p. 12) and includes the strongest piece in the collection, Laurie Maffly-Kipp’s essay on how late nineteenth-century Americans viewed Chinese religions. While impressed with the trappings, Americans were dismissive of Chinese idols, rituals, and temples as being genuinely religious, an attitude that echoed Protestant perceptions of Catholicism. Another good point in Maffly-Kipp’s piece has to do with American BOOK REVIEWS 719 Protestants’ dismay at the Chinese work ethic, which was frightening because of its seemingly “inscrutable” motivation. Pablo Mitchell shows that African Americans and Penitentes in New Mexico, while numerically small, were assailed in the popular press for “performing strange and abnormal acts with their bodies” (p. 91). Sharing an interest in demeaning and persecuting these “Others” may have aided in creating a measure of unity based on social and racial superiority among Anglos and Hispanics. Tisa Wenger concludes this section with her examination of early twentieth-century modernists, like John Collier, whose interest on behalf of Pueblo Indians in particular and the reform of federal Indian policy in general was motivated by primitivism. Paradoxically, the modernists’ desire to aid the Pueblos by freezing them in time limited their ability to see native peoples as themselves changing and modern. The final two essays concentrate on contemporary communities. Armand L. Mauss summarizes Mormon ideas about the positions of Native Americans and African Americans as they pertained to lineage. He attends primarily to how the troublesome policy (rescinded in 1978) of denying blacks eligibility for the Mormon priesthood was gradually undermined as preoccupation with “lineage rankings” collapsed during the twentieth century. Mary Jane O’Donnell considers the Islamic Center of Southern California, established in 1953, and how both its leadership and members have struggled to fashion a Muslim identity that allows congregants to “participate in American society while holding firm to their Islamic ideals” (p. 126). The infusion of religion into the discussion of race in the West is a timely and welcome development. Although the work in this volume is almost exclusively concerned with Southern California and New Mexico, it is nonetheless a useful beginning to deepening the scholarly discussion, in both historical and contemporary terms, of cultural encounters in the American West. South Dakota School of Mines and Technology FRANK VAN NUYS Danger on the Doorstep: Anti-Catholicism and American Print Culture in the Progressive Era. By Justin Nordstrom. (Notre Dame, Indiana: University of Notre Dame Press. 2006. Pp. x, 296. $30.00 paperback.) Focusing on a largely neglected era, the decade of the 1910’s, Justin Nordstrom’s analysis of anti-Catholicism renders it predominantly ideological in the sense that it was more about the incompatibility of Catholicism and Americanism than about ethnicity or religion. Primary among its themes were nationalist and patriotic ones that portrayed Catholics as threatening, if not dangerous, to the republic. Secretive, possibly disloyal, manipulative, and corrupt, Catholics constituted a potential fifth column. Catholic philanthropy and social services were attacked as screens for greed or ways to harm the vulnerable; Catholic schools, convents, orphanages, 720 BOOK REVIEWS and other institutions, merely fronts for power and influence, if not dens of depravity. These themes, present in other eras of our past, were now put to more specifically ideological and nationalistic purposes. In Nordstrom’s view nativists were not merely narrow-minded ignoramuses; they were people caught in a web of social and economic changes they found threatening.The preservation of white, small-town America in the face of rapid urbanization and political fragility seemed to be the only way to retain their way of life. He closely analyzes the language, images, techniques, and messages of antiCatholic publications to demonstrate their appeal. Based in rural areas of the nation with small Catholic populations (chiefly the South and border states), The Yellow Jacket, Watson’s Magazine, The Menace, and others relied on small-town patriotic and nationalistic attitudes. Muscular, male protective instincts were stimulated by typically progressive publicity and print culture techniques. Once apprised of the truth of Catholic duplicity and depravity small-town patriotic manhood would be aroused to join together against supposed priestand pope-ridden power, money, and perversion.The most innocent and helpless of all, women and children, required the protection of an awakened manhood aware of its precious political heritage and willing to fight to defend it. Departing from the pattern of earlier episodes of anti-Catholicism, Catholics fought back. Catholic anti-nativists asserted their patriotism and American nationalism, exposed the lurid lies of the nativist press, called fellow Catholics and non-Catholics to fight their slanderous attacks, and they vindicated Catholic womanhood. The Knights of Columbus Commission on Religious Prejudices funded an extensive and costly campaign of counternativist propaganda and published extensive reports. It worked to prevent nativist publications from being sent through the U.S. mail on obscenity grounds and funded lawsuits against nativist publishers. This hurt the nativist bottom line, but World War I and Catholic war service did even more to silence the nativist press. Nordstrom makes clear that Catholics responded to an essentially ideological challenge in characteristically ideological ways as well as with print culture techniques similar to those of their adversaries. Catholic manhood and Catholic patriotism demanded print culture defenses. While retaining a sharp analytical focus on the 1910’s, Nordstrom connects the anti-Catholicism of that decade with earlier outbreaks (antebellum era, 1890’s) and later ones (1920’s, 1950’s). He firmly establishes the surprising extent and popularity of nativism of the decade. He strongly connects it to many disparate strands of scholarship and convincingly explains its “hiatus” after World War I. Finally, Nordstrom acutely analyzes the Catholic counterattack. An impressive monograph, its solidity is marred only by some relatively BOOK REVIEWS 721 minor proofreading errors (fig.5, p. 217 misidentifies Lincoln as Jefferson in a cartoon, Cardinal Gibbons is identified as being from New York rather than Baltimore, he uses “proscribed” when he means “prescribed” and uses “tact” when he means “tack”). Loras College DAVID L. SALVATERRA Pioneer Spirit: Catherine Spalding, Sister of Charity of Nazareth. By Mary Ellen Doyle, SCN. (Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky. 2006. Pp. xvi, 286. $45.00.) Catherine Spalding (1793-1858) entered the newly formed religious community of the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth on January 21, 1813 at the age of nineteen.Within six months she was formally elected Mother and superior of the six-member community, and served in that position (the first time) for ten years. She is considered, along with Bardstown Bishop John Baptist David (1761-1841), a cofounder of the Kentucky-based community. Mary Ellen Doyle’s biography of Spalding is a fine contribution to the growing literature on the history of women religious communities and their foundresses. Utilizing annals, letters, and other primary archival sources, Doyle clearly documents the role Mother Catherine played in the growth of both the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth and Kentucky Catholicism. During her four terms as Mother Superior, institutions consistent with the community’s apostolate were opened, beginning with Nazareth Academy in 1813. In addition, membership increased (and sometimes decreased), and in 1842 sisters were sent to establish institutions in the Diocese of Nashville. Even when not serving in a position of leadership, Spalding contributed to the growth of her community in a variety of ways. Sent to assist in the establishment of Louisville’s Presentation Academy in 1831, Mother Catherine found herself helping sisters assume the role of nurses during the cholera epidemic that swept the city in 1832. The number of deaths resulting from that disease would help lead to the formation of St.Vincent’s Orphan Asylum, an institution that remained near to Spalding’s heart until her death at age sixty-five. Pioneer Spirit, however, is more than a biography of the cofounder of an American religious community. By situating Spalding’s life within the context of the history of the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth, readers are better able to appreciate what it meant to found and administer a religious community on the American frontier. Including stories that have not been told often (at least publicly) allows Doyle to paint a reasonably complete portrait of Mother Catherine. Her accounts of the relationship between Father Charles Coomes and Sister Perpetua (Frances) Alvey (the two were married by a Methodist minister in 1827); the disagreement that led to an eventual split within the community; and the tension between Spalding and her distant cousin Martin John 722 BOOK REVIEWS Spalding make for good reading and do much to enhance our understanding of Catherine Spalding. Doyle is mindful of the fact that one cannot write about either Spalding or her community without acknowledging the institution of slavery as it existed in the antebellum South; and she is willing to tackle the relationship between Catherine Spalding and the slaves owned by the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth in an honest and forthright manner. As an 1840 entry in Spalding’s journal reported, the community had bought ‘”five negro men; two women; two girls, and two boys. . . . [T]he council decided it was better to buy servants for the farm, etc., than pay so much for hire and then often get bad ones (pp. 119120).’”After narrating and analyzing the place of slavery in both Spalding’s life and the history of the SCN’s, Doyle concludes that despite Mother Catherine’s “. . . atypical and genuine kindness and concern (p. 122)” for slaves owned by the community, she “. . . simply did not see the radical injustice of slavery” (p. 125). Spalding was indeed a product of her times, good and bad, and is recognized as such in Doyle’s biography. Historians of women religious will find Pioneer Spirit especially valuable for the light it sheds on the founding of an American frontier community. It is also recommended, however, for scholars and general readers interested in the history and growth of American Catholicism. La Salle University MARGARET M. MCGUINNESS Good Hearts: Catholic Sisters in Chicago’s Past. By Suellen Hoy. (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press. 2006. Pp. xiv, 243. $50.00 clothbound; $22.00 paperback.) Some ten years ago, I stood for hours in a line that weaved around four city blocks, waiting to pass by the coffin of Joseph Cardinal Bernardin, the beloved leader of Chicago’s Catholic community. Thousands gathered to honor Bernardin, but as I read Suellen Hoy’s Good Hearts, I realized that my most vivid memory of the evening was how, while waiting in line, we visitors shared joyous stories of attending Chicago’s parochial schools. The nuns who ran those schools had shaped us and shaped our faith more profoundly than any cardinal could. Yet their lives were rarely remembered with the same pomp and celebration. Hoy reminds us that for too long the history of religious women has been ignored or dismissed despite their central role in building the American Catholic Church and many of this nation’s charitable institutions. In Good Hearts, a collection of mostly previously published essays, Hoy reveals the dynamic lives that nuns led. Tracing their story from the 1846 arrival of the Irish Sisters of Mercy through demonstrations in the 1960’s, Hoy offers BOOK REVIEWS 723 glimpses of thousands of activist nuns who changed the face of Chicago. They exercised far greater autonomy and authority than their Protestant counterparts, although the Church’s ecclesiastical structure and their own spiritual training downplayed public recognition of their achievements and left them relegated as minor players in the city’s history as well. Initially they attended to the needs of the poor immigrants through parochial schools, hospitals, orphanages, and homes for “fallen women.” As neighborhoods changed, religious women embraced the new arrivals, whether black or white, Catholic or Protestant. Hoy also emphasizes the importance of class in defining the nuns’ lives and the goals they set for their students. Many orders maintained a hierarchy of choir and lay sisters in the twentieth century, although an increasingly larger percentage of the sisters were drawn from the ranks of working-class immigrants or their children. In the nineteenth century and for much of the twentieth, many nuns accepted as permanent the socioeconomic system that made charity necessary, and thus “channeled their efforts toward alleviating the symptoms of poverty through personal works of mercy and charitable institutions” (p. 5). Nonetheless, they saw education as the key to social mobility, and by the 1940’s, began to adopt direct action methods to address racial injustice and economic inequality. In the only new essay, “Marching for Racial Justice in Chicago in the 1960s,” Hoy effectively argues that the radicalism demonstrated by some sisters in the 1960’s—such as participation in Civil Rights protests-was not a revolution prompted by Vatican Council II and the publication of The Nun in the World, although both were influential. Rather, Hoy contends that these protests were the culmination of decades of interaction with African Americans through schools, settlement houses, and various forms of social work. Moreover, she adds that subsequent challenges to the church hierarchy in the 1960’s “grew out of an honest desire by a large number of contemporary sisters ‘to serve God best’ rather than serve a system that often felt oppressive (p. 129).” Hoy brings these disparate essays together with a brief nine-page introduction, but a longer, more integrative piece might work better. Good Hearts does not purport to offer a complete history of religious women in Chicago, although Hoy and this reviewer agree that such an important story needs to be told. Nonetheless, Hoy has made an impressive start with this collection, drawing attention to women who were powerful agents of social change and providing a book that scholars of religious history, urban history, and women’s history must read. University of Houston KATHLEEN A. BROSNAN BOOK REVIEWS 725 amidst a bustling business enterprise wholly led by a Yankee elite. As the curate at St. Mary’s, he used his unremarkable position to strengthen his people spiritually and socially so that they could sense their true belonging within this unfriendly Protestant environment. From these sources in particular, we are able to see Father McGivney in a new, more pastoral, light. They show how the young priest motivated his immigrant congregants, quietly encouraging them to expect that they, too, could fulfill the American dream. He especially guided the youth to find their place by directing dramatic productions, organizing team sports—especially baseball— and becoming involved in parish festivals, picnics, and dances. He clearly wanted Catholics of all ages to realize that they also belonged to the multicultural, entrepreneurial society that was rapidly developing around them. Throughout their brief study, Brinkley and Fenster take pains to demonstrate how Father McGivney’s commitment to each member of his parish was particularly notable. Using oral histories and court testimonies, for example, they illustrate the ways in which he demonstrated his interest in those in need. In fact, they begin their study by introducing us to an adolescent boy over whom Father McGivney assumed legal guardianship rather than allow the fatherless lad to become a ward of the state. They tell us, moreover, of the constant visits he made to the city prison so that he could counsel one young Irish laborer convicted of murder and facing execution. They narrate how Father McGivney personally provided religious instruction to a young woman who sought entrance to the Church despite her parents’ disapproval. Parish Priest concentrates on all of these seemingly small aspects of Father McGivney’s pastoral aims in order to show us a priest whose simple desire to provide for his people proved his dedication to God and to the Church. They emphasize that, in this man, one found a friend, a counselor, a spiritual leader, a promoter of Catholic values, and a man of God. Through their monograph, we come to understand why today’s heirs of the Knights of Columbus he began so long ago want to promote the canonization of Michael McGivney. For its fine perspective, as well as its insights into the life and spirit of one pioneer priest, this monograph is a fine addition to American studies. Holy Apostle College and Seminary Cromwell, Connecticut DOLORES LIPTAK, RSM Steadfast in the Faith. The Life of Patrick Cardinal O’Boyle. By Morris J. MacGregor. (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press. 2006. Pp. xiv, 426. $39.95 clothbound; $19.95 paperback.) David Brinkley in his 1989 book, Washington Goes to War, describes the World War II metamorphosis of the capital city from “a small Southern town that happened to host our nationally elected officials,” to “the hub of interna- 726 BOOK REVIEWS tional affairs and government.” Morris MacGregor provides a similar service ecclesiastically as he chronicles the life of Patrick Cardinal O’Boyle.The cardinal’s nearly quarter-century (1949-1973) as first resident archbishop of Washington witnessed not only the growth of the Catholic presence in the area, but also the emergence of a Catholic Washington identity both at home and abroad. Although the book covers O’Boyle’s entire life, his earlier years seem to be primarily a preparation for his time in the nation’s capital. In a very readable biography, MacGregor traces O’Boyle’s roots in early twentieth-century working-class Scranton, and his first parish experience in St. Columba’s, an “On the Waterfront” parish in New York City’s Chelsea District. Both experiences had a strong impact on the future cardinal, and would help prepare him for a twenty-two-year career in the large and complex network of New York Catholic Charities. O’Boyle’s organizational skills and success in bringing modern social service principles and practices, which he studied at the New York School of Social Work, to archdiocesan agencies such as the Catholic Guardian Society and the Mission of the Immaculate Virgin, helped propel him onto the national scene as well. During the 1930’s and 1940’s he rendered service to the National Conference of Catholic Charities, the National Catholic School of Social Service, and War Relief Services (WRS). O’Boyle’s presence on the Washington scene at WRS and his ability in dealing with governmental and non-governmental agencies during the war and postwar periods caught the attention of the Apostolic Delegate, Archbishop Amleto Giovanni Cicognani.Add in O’Boyle’s organizational skills, and he was a logical choice to help organize a newly-activated archdiocese in the national capital in 1949. For many people, the memory of O’Boyle’s Washington years is that of an archconservative, beleaguered prelate dealing with difficulty with issues of post conciliar theological dissent and academic freedom at The Catholic University of America, and with the 1968 controversy sparked by the papal encyclical, Humanae Vitae. While treating those controversies thoroughly and fairly, MacGregor does not let them overshadow the accomplishments of the O’Boyle years, including his sterling record on labor relations, and his work on behalf of the Declaration on Religious Liberty at the Second Vatican Council. In particular, his ground-breaking, determined, yet measured, efforts on behalf of racial integration in Washington and southern Maryland cast O’Boyle as a visionary religious leader, and balance what some may regard as his heavy-handedness in later controversies. The author’s task was not necessarily an easy one. Unlike other prelates with an interest in history and, perhaps, even an eye toward their own place in it, O’Boyle seemed almost cavalier about leaving a record of his time and work. MacGregor seems almost apologetic that,“to a great extent this biography depends on interviews”(p. 406). But the forty-eight interviews with a wide range of O’Boyle’s family, friends, co-workers, and opponents are actually a strength of the book. The interviews provide a nuanced and human picture of BOOK REVIEWS 727 the cardinal that would be the envy of many biographers. For example, his cousins’ reminiscences about O’Boyle’s palpable anguish over the priests departing the ministry during the birth control controversy (p. 365) are an insight not normally gleaned from chancery office correspondence and add greatly to the appeal of this book. As with any work, there are minor errors, especially toward the end of the book, that another editing-run might have picked up. For example, the Greek Melkite Patriarch of Antioch during the Council was Maximos IV Cardinal Saigh, not Maximus Singh (p. 273); Cleveland is not an archdiocese (p. 367); and the Archbishop of Louisville in the 1970’s was Thomas J. McDonough, not Donoghue (p. 398). And had the author searched the University of Notre Dame Archives, that treasure trove of Catholic Americana, he might have found some of the war years material missing from the archives of Catholic Relief Services. But, all in all, this is a wonderful biography that provides much depth and insight into American Catholic leadership in the years between the War and the Council. This is MacGregor’s third work on aspects of the history of Catholic Washington. Every diocese should be blessed to have such an able chronicler. Immaculate Conception Seminary Seton Hall University RAYMOND J. KUPKE The Church in the Barrio: Mexican American Ethno-Catholicism in Houston. By Roberto R. Treviño. (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. 2006. Pp. xiv, 308. $59.95 clothbound; $22.50 paperback.) Roberto R.Treviño’s study provides an excellent schematic for understanding the role of the Catholic Church in the Mexican American community in Houston. In my own early studies of Mexicans in Houston and Chicago it became obvious that the Catholic institutions played a central role in the life of barrio dwellers in the United States. At best, however, my own work and those of others in the pioneering era of Chicano history during the 1970’s, only scratched the surface of this process. Moreover, before the rise of modern Mexican-American studies, scholars viewed the Church and its functions in the Hispanic Southwest through the classic borderlands perspective which did not focus on immigrant communities. Recently, scholars have started to look more closely at the Church’s importance in twentieth-century Mexican-American communities. Even though most of these studies are anchored in folklore, anthropology, or religious studies, such scholars as David A. Badillo are paving the way for a historical perspective. He has recently published a book on Latinos and Catholics that assumes macro proportions. Few studies have viewed the impact of the Church by using a micro-methodology which yielded a much-needed understanding of United States Mexicans through a community study approach pioneered by the historians of the 1970’s. 728 BOOK REVIEWS I am aware of the recent, unpublished works by Deborah Kanter and Gina Marie Pitti that take this approach (studying Chicago and San Jose respectively), but Treviño’s is the first to publish his findings within such a genre. The author places Catholicism and Mexicans in Houston within the context of the various historical layers. Although Mexicans have been in the Houston area since the Spanish, Mexican, and Republic periods and after the town became part of the United States, it was not until the modern industrial period when Mexicans responded to labor needs in Texas in the early twentieth century that they appear in Houston in larger numbers. The vast majority being Catholic, they presented a challenge to the city’s church officials that could not be ignored. Unfortunately, religious practices of the immigrants often clashed with the modern Catholicism that emerged in the United States in the nineteenth century. Many came from priest-scarce regions where rituals and even theology were maintained at the folk level. Consequently, ecclesiastical leaders dismissed the new arrivals as ignorant of Church teachings. Nonetheless, the Church accommodated Mexicans within an expanding structure of churches. Some like Our Lady of Guadalupe were new, while others became Mexican as previous parishioners abandoned buildings to the newcomers as they became the majority in central Houston congregations. In spite of the tense relationship that existed between Mexicans and church officials, a solid Catholic structural foundation became established, serving as nexus for future secular, political, social, and cultural underpinnings as Mexican communities evolved in the course of the century. Thus Treviño continues to put the story within the context of community layering. For example, from the 1930’s to the 1950’s the Mexican church leaders also served as leaders in such political organizations as the League of United Latin American Citizens, serving to promote political Mexican Americanism (during an era when ethnic Mexican leaders in the United States sought constitutional rights as citizens), while at the same time providing a platform for acculturation, especially of the young, into American society. The Church itself, at the national level, became an advocate for social reform, and by the time of the Chicano Movement of the 1960’s, such organizations as PADRES (Mexican American Priests) and activist Hispanic nuns provided parallel support to secular Chicano Movement activism. Often church facilities served to house Chicano movement activities such as the school walkouts of the early 1970’s. Even though the book is a micro study of Houston, it can serve as a paradigm that can be applied to this process elsewhere. Arizona State University F. ARTURO ROSALES BOOK REVIEWS 729 Latinos and the New Immigrant Church. By David A. Badillo. (Baltimore:The Johns Hopkins University Press. 2006. Pp. xxvi, 275. $60.00 cloth, $22.95 paperback.) This book arrives on the academic scene in timely fashion. The existing English-language histories of Latino Catholics, often listed with the less fashionable “Hispanic Catholics,” are either highly focused on one specific locality or can be contained only in multiple volumes. Examples of the first type are Angélico Chávez’ classic Our Lady of the Conquest about New Mexico (1948) and Ana María Díaz-Stevens’ Oxcart Catholicism about Puerto Ricans in New York, which won the Cushwa Prize in 1993. Into the second type fall the threevolume series out of Notre Dame, edited by Jay Dolan. David A. Badillo has written a worthwhile history of Latino Catholics that includes ample reference to these other works but manages to condense it into one volume of 275 pages. Because it would have been impossible to cover every historical aspect, Badillo has wisely chosen to examine specific events at key moments in United States and Catholic history. Instead of a kind of tourist guide to Latino Catholic history trying to cover everything in a sort of once-over flight, Badillo has written a book that provides open windows to a theme of growing importance. The result is clearly superior to the kind of brief summaries of people and places that would have robbed history of much of its complexities. The reader is led to understand the roots of Latino Catholic identity by an examination of its Iberian and Latin American origins before nineteenth-century invasions by United States’ troops raised the Stars and Stripes over the people’s heads. Iberian-American Catholicism still reigned in our hearts, however, and Badillo does not shy from explaining the dilemma of a Catholicism based in the United States that was asked to Americanize the conquered in the Latino homelands as it was already Americanizing the immigrants from Europe. It is my experience that there is considerable intellectual resistance to the idea that Latinos and Latinas are principally “conquered peoples” rather than “immigrants seeking the American Dream.” Perhaps the resistance can be blamed on a reluctance to judge the United States as guilty of imperialism, but this point is crucial to a non-politicized understanding of church history. Badillo handles this difficult statement about as well as I have seen, being neither too partisan in his judgments nor too shallow in his criticisms. The book navigates the principal Latino groups in each of several chapters dedicated to Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, Cubans, and newer groups like the Dominicans and Central Americans. In Chapter Four, he examines the historical role of bishops, many of whom adopted strikingly different pastoral approaches to Latino ministry (and some who did nothing at all). Fresh information is provided in chapters on “Suburbanization and Mobility in Catholic Chicago” (6),“Church Leadership in Texas and New York City” (7) and about the impact of globalization on U.S. Catholics (8). These last three chapters may read as much like social science as like history, but given the relatively recent 730 BOOK REVIEWS emergence of Latinos and Latinas as a rising force within U.S. Catholicism, this is a strength rather than a failing for the book. The most interesting interpretative insight I found was in the seven-page epilogue, entitled “Latino Religious Tradition as Metaphor.”It may be that my satisfaction with this short essay is influenced by the frequent and favorable citations that Dr. Badillo has made of my own work. Nonetheless, he convincingly argues that Catholicism has a double mission for many Latinos and Latinas: to preserve the faith and to express their cultural independence. This was the point elaborated in my book with Ana María Díaz-Stevens, Recognizing the Latino Religious Resurgence in U.S. Religion (1998), and Badillo has incorporated much of this interpretation in his recounting of select events, albeit with less attention to theology and the sociological theory of social movements. The citations of primary and secondary sources are impressive; the index is complete and except for a few clumsily worded sentences here and there, the volume is without a significant list of typographical errors or tortured passages.While this book is no substitute for more specific studies or more comprehensive series, it meets all the standards of an accessible paperback for course adoption. Brooklyn College ANTHONY M. STEVENS-ARROYO Black Puerto Rican Identity and Religious Experience. By Samiri Herández Hiraldo. [New Directions in Puerto Rican Studies.] (Gainesville: The University Press of Florida. 2006. Pp. xxii, 292. $55.00.) Through Dr. Hernández Hiraldo’s investigation we are able to enter a world that is known mainly for its religious African folklore. A serious anthropological research on the multidimensional religious experience of the Loízans has never been accomplished until this field study was made.What we find here is kind of top secret and very revealing of this community’s ups and downs. Through almost an entire year of field word, the author not only shows us that Loizans are spiritists (or witches) and Catholics, but also she takes us into a Protestant world we usually are not conscious of. And I think this is her main contribution. But my main concern is the position in which she places the Catholic Church. As a historian I think the way she handles the Catholic history of the region and of Puerto Rico as a whole is very weak. Even the sources she uses for her historical data on Catholism in the Island are not the best ones. Also I wonder why she gives more pre-eminence to the Protestant material and analysis when she herself acknowledges that the Loizans’ mainstream religious inclination is toward Catholism, regardless of whether they are regular practitioners or Catholics by name (católicos de nombre). She places a heavy emphasis on describing the different Protestant churches rituals and pastoral care, putting aside a religious dimension of the BOOK REVIEWS 731 Loizans which is still important in their lives even though the author is not willing to admit it: the African religious heritage and its actual mingling with Spiritism and the newcomer Santería. I don’t want to think that because of the author’s own Protestant background she is unconsciously inclined toward favoring the subject of the different Protestant churches in Loíza which she shows that she understands better than when she is dealing with the Catholic subject. As an example at hand, she leaves the reader with the impression that what has saved the Catholic Church in Loiza and in the whole Island is the Charismatic movement. She does not mention other facts maybe unknown to her since she writes from her Protestant background. Also I think that another reason for presenting such an approach is that she departs from her experience with the Trinitarian fathers, who were very pastoral and up-to-date in their parish administration. But they constituted a fractional presence in the Puerto Rican Catholic Church, related only to the San Juan Metropolitan area, and not to the five dioceses in Puerto Rico. Taking them as a paradigm for Catholics’ pastoral progress in the whole Island is not the best example since most of the Church in Puerto Rico is conservative. Besides, one cannot ignore the fact that in Loiza there survive in some people traits of the African religious heritage which is something some of the people from that region try to hide. It would have been interesting if Dr. Hernández Hiraldo had included more research on this subject. In the Catholic pastoral world of this region, which I personally happen to know, this is a very serious concern that we can’t ignore. Even more now that it is been reinforced by the appearance of Santería, a Yoruba religion, and many Loízans are descendants of the Yorubans. The problem is twofold: it affects more the Catholic religion and people don’t like to talk about their double life as churchgoers and as practitioners of Santería or of Spiritism. I hope the author will have these concerns in mind for a future revision of her very important work. FLOYD MCCOY Hormigueros, Puerto Rico Latin American Malintzin’s Choices:An Indian Woman in the Conquest of Mexico. By Camilla Townsend. [Diálogos.] (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. 2006. Pp. xvi, 287. $23.95 paperback.) Camilla Townsend’s new book, Malintzin’s Choices: An Indian Woman in the Conquest of Mexico, is a worthy addition to the University of New Mexico Press’s fine series of books,“Diálogos,” edited by Lyman Johnson. Given the historiographical impact of women’s and gender history, it is not surprising that Malintzin (or Malinche, as she is also known) has garnered increased attention from historians, ethnohistorians, and art historians. However sparse the historical record about Malintzin may be, more is known about her than about any other indigenous woman of conquest-era Mesoamerica.Yet there are two prob- 732 BOOK REVIEWS lems any scholar writing about her will encounter: first, the paucity of sources; second, the fact that her life was atypical. Townsend’s approaches to these problems are worthy of consideration. Her primary solution to the first problem is to place Malintzin’s life in the context of her times, explaining the complexities of Malintzin’s gender and ethnic identity, her role in the conquest, and describing the lives of her descendants as well.While placing some emphasis on Malintzin’s inner life by asking how she might have understood and what she might have thought about the many dramatic events that shaped her life, much of the book is an examination of the process of conquest, emphasizing indigenous perspectives and experiences. Showing herself to be an energetic researcher and judicious reader of sources,Townsend takes a fresh look at both the conquest historiography and sources. Describing the indigenous participants as rational actors who understood the Spanish to control a highly effective military technology, she sees that technology, in combination with the spread of smallpox beginning in 1521, as having led to the defeat of the Mexica. Townsend organizes her narration of these events around the life and role of Malintzin. The decentering of Cortés is more than mere rhetorical strategy, because Townsend ably demonstrates Malintzin’s important role as translator, strategist, and consort of Cortés. Throughout,Townsend uses the evidence— biographical, cultural, historical—to its fullest and not only describes Malintzin’s actions but probes the reasons behind them. On Malintzin’s thoughts as the Spanish set off towards Tenochtitlan in 1519, she writes, “It most likely did not seem incomprehensible to her that this group of strangers was determined to cross the land, find Moctezuma, and attempt to conquer him” (p. 54). Often using words such as “probably” and “certainly,” the thought processes of major figures in these important events are analyzed.Townsend goes far beyond Frances Karttunen’s chapter on Malintzin in her book, Between Worlds, in which she also explores the issue of Malintzin’s motivation. Karttunen, however, limits her speculation to the question of why Malintzin participated in the conquest as translator for the Spanish.Townsend explores a wider array of issues relating to Malintzin’s life and amorous and familial relations. Yet a contradiction exists in the way Townsend analyzes Malintzin’s life, both the life lived among others that can be traced through extant sources, and the interior life that she sensitively, yet speculatively, probes. Noting how Cortés’s success at certain points depended on Malintzin, she goes on to state that “it seems equally sure that had she not existed, some other Spaniard on some other expedition would have come across another woman much like Malinche, for she was a typical product of the Mesoamerican world as it was then” (p. 6). While true that her early life was typical, after 1519 her life was not. Given the very small number of other female translators, it is highly unlikely that another woman would have played a similar role. It is this atypi- BOOK REVIEWS 733 cality that accounts for her historical significance. Thus the book’s biographical and cultural analyses are not wholly congruent, but this criticism detracts neither from the importance of the questions Townsend poses nor the grace with which she tells the story of an enigmatic women who participated in the momentous events that reshaped her world and the worlds of many others of the continent and across the globe. University of Houston SUSAN KELLOGG Black Blood Brothers: Confraternities and Social Mobility for Afro-Mexicans. By Nicole Von Germeten. (Gainesville: University Press of Florida. 2006. Pp. xiv, 288. $55.00.) In Black Blood Brothers, Nicole Von Germeten offers a substantial and original contribution to our understanding of the colonial Afro-Mexican experience. The book’s originality resides in the examination of Catholic confraternities led by New Spain’s sizable black population. In mining longneglected cofradía (a term curiously under-utilized in this study) records including founding constitutions, membership lists, account books, and petitions that are complemented by a corpus of wills and a diverse selection of ecclesiastical records, the author brings significant archival substance to a still neglected past. Building on the method that Ben Vision initially pioneered in his study on Afro-Mexican militiamen, Von Germeten brings an institutional approach to her analysis of black life. In both cases, this approach has resulted in rewarding historical studies. After reading Black Blood Brothers, even the specialist’s knowledge of the Afro-Mexican experience will be broader and deeper. Organized around the institutional trajectories of African and Afro-Mexicanled confraternities, Black Blood Brothers touches on far more than the existence of New Spain’s black cofradías.“While this study explores other aspects of confraternal culture, such as local pride, baroque piety, and charity,” Von Germeten rightly suggests,“the emphasis here is on the social aspects of confraternities and the role they played in the changes Africans and their descendants experienced from the sixteenth to the nineteenth centuries, especially as they moved up the social ladder from slaves to more prosperous colonial subjects” (p. 3). Confraternities, in other words, offer a lens onto the shifting social dynamic informing the experiences of Africans and their descendants. Introduced by two thematic chapters establishing the parameters of confraternity history in New Spain and in particular among Afro-Mexicans, the five case studies of urban resistance and accommodation, social mobility in the provinces, and Spanish patronage and its limits form the book’s core. By means of an approach that filters the Afro-Mexican experience through the storied history of confraternities the reader comes to share Von Germeten’s perspective on the relationship between the institutional and the social. 734 BOOK REVIEWS Novelty aside, this study offers tough going for the reader. Much of the difficulty rests with the book’s organization, argument, and in particular the presentation of the evidence.Von Germeten introduces the confraternity as a vehicle intent on facilitating a proper burial and a “good death.” In turn, the reader is informed of a particular form of religious practice identified as “Afromexican baroque piety,” which the author suggests is “best seen in public displays such as alms-collecting, flagellant processions, lavish processions, and fiestas” (p. 11). But the reader searches in vain for a discussion on death in the African and black imaginary.When, how, and why did Africans embrace the Christian afterlife? Even the slightest engagement with the Sarah Nalle’s study of postTridentine Catholicism and João José Reis’s funerary practices in colonial Brazil would have been instructive. Instead the study seems curiously detached from a contextualized discussion of Christianity in New Spain, especially in the lives of Afromexicans. Oddly enough, most of the sources on which this study relies have an ecclesiastical provenance. Narrating how the clergy effected the transactions that generated these sources and thereby demonstrated an interest in African and black souls seems fundamental for a history a Christian institution. This lapse mars the book’s argument and the overall impact of the prodigious archival research. In the final analysis, however, Von Germeten has made an important contribution to the study of the Afro-Mexican experience and racial formation in New Spain. Readers might quibble over her interpretive gestures and circumscribed historiographical forays but will surely marvel at the archival treasure that she has mined. For this reason alone this book deserves a wide readership. Rutgers University HERMAN L. BENNETT Between Legitimacy and Violence. A History of Colombia, 1875-2002. By Marcos Palacios. Translated by Richard Stoller. (Durham and London: Duke University Press. 2006. Pp. xvi, 300. $79.95 clothbound; $22.95 paperback.) This is a very well written and informative book. The author addresses the long-term failure of the Colombian national state to modernize, to eliminate persistent internal violence, and to develop institutions and forms of representation that accurately reflect social change and channel it in salutary directions. This is not for lack of trying: Palacios reviews successive efforts, major and manor, running from mid-nineteenth-century Radical Liberals to the Rafael Nuñez’ Regeneration, the Conservative Republic, the Liberal Revolución en Marcha, the Hispanophila of Laureano Gómez, the National Front and the 1990 Constituent Assembly. All are punctuated by continuing violence, and weakened by the enduring, if gradually attenuated, power of regionalism. A primary theme throughout the book is the impact of the country’s fragmented geography, the long-term underdevelopment of its agrarian economy, and the resultant severity and extension of poverty. The discussion of geogra- BOOK REVIEWS 735 phy is excellent, but given its importance, one is surprised to find no maps of any kind in the book. A related theme is the persistent weakness of the national state and the inadequacy of public institutions of all kinds, including systems of banking and taxation. The author also examines the long-term presence of the Liberal and Conservative parties, through which competitive and relatively comparable elite groups have sustained their rule by managing patrimonial loyalties and loosely linked regional machines. The counterpart of this elite pattern has been the weakness of trade unions, peasant associations, and much of what passes elsewhere for “civil society.” The continuing power and institutional presence of the Catholic Church is a notable element in this equation. Finally, of course, this is a national history punctuated by repeated moments (often lengthy moments) of intense violence. Since 1875, the count includes four civil wars (1876-77, 1885-86, 1895, and 1899-1902), one undeclared civil war (the Violencia of the 1940’s and 1950’s), along with persistent pockets of violence associated with struggles over land, with politics and vendettas, and with trade in a variety of valuable goods (most notably emeralds and drugs). Other trends that have helped make Colombia the way it is today include accelerated development of mass transport (from river fleets to railroads, roads, and airplanes), the growth of literacy and the spread of mass communications, and the notable pattern of multi-polar urban development with four major cities ( Bogotá, Cali, Medellin, and Barranquilla), each with a distinct identity. The first three chapters detail the decline of radical liberal rule, the impact of late nineteenth-century civil wars, the rise of Nuñez and the Regeneration, and main lines of political history through to the great depression and the Liberal victory of 1930. During this period, the human and economic geography of the country begin to change as the extended peace (or at least the absence of open war) facilitated development of the coffee economy in the West, the economic surge of the Valle del Cauca, and the decline of once dominant regions like Santander and Boyaca. The author examines the character of Liberal rule (1930-1946), the crises that undermined it, and the rise, among Conservatives, of Laureano Gomez as kingmaker of party and country. This lays the groundwork for chapters 4 and 5 on the Violence and its impact and the subsequent search for an “elusive legitimacy” in the reconstruction of the state undertaken during the National Front period following agreements that settled, or at the very least greatly attenuated inter-party violence. The analysis of the Violence is thorough and compelling. Although the author concentrates more on elite interaction than on the savagery of local conflicts, he details important links between local and regional violence and national party leadership. In some areas violence became a way of life, a business (with kidnaping for ransom) and often a matter of local self-defense. Continuities with the violence later associated with the drug trade are well established. The last two chapters return to general themes of continuity and possible points of change. Among notable elements of continuity are continued internal migration, limitations to mass education, persistent poverty and inequality, 736 BOOK REVIEWS and the pattern of multiple big cities. Transformative points include growing industrialization, the emergence of an energy sector, and an evolving popular culture, related here mostly in terms of music and responses to violence. Efforts to reform state and government persist as is visible in the 1991 Constitution and the movement that spurred it. The author is skeptical about the impact of these transformations and with apparent reason. The book closes with a view of Colombia as divided between a “legitimate” state whose existence is limited to the major cities, which is surrounded by zones of conflict.This continues a longstanding pattern of fragmented political authority and sporadically functional national institutions. The difference is that what could once be attributed above all to the impact of physical and human geography that reinforces localism, now responds to alternative forms of insertion in to the world economy. The author provides an illuminating bibliographical essay at the end. DANIEL H. LEVINE University of Michigan Australian God’s Willing Workers: Women and Religion in Australia. By Anne O’Brien. (Sydney: UNSW Press. 2005. Pp. 314. Aus. $49.95.) To extend the frontiers of history we need up-to-date maps of the past, that is, works of synthesis pulling together recent research and giving it coherent shape.This Anne O’Brien has done triumphantly in her survey of women and religion in Australia. God’s Willing Workers is rich, fertile historical writing opening the way to new endeavors in this line of country. More than that, the indefatigable author has done her own exploring in novel sources such as nuns’ manuscript memoirs and taped interviews, so that her book is not just old material in a fresh form but new discoveries. Protestants and Catholics share the pages of this book. It is too early to expect to find Islamic women here since their history has not yet been written; but there is a body of work on Jewish women on the shelves that is ignored here, perhaps for reasons of space.The Christian women who appear here tend to be what sociologists would call “religious professionals”: Catholic nuns, Protestant missionaries, deaconesses, and lay leaders in bodies like the Grail and St. Joan’s Alliance. Women in the pews, ordinary parishioners, have yet to tell their stories, although a start has been made in the Commission for Australian Catholic Women’s And the Dance Goes on (2005) and Professor Greg Dening’s Church Alive! (2006). Christian women’s experiences of church, whatever the denomination, are similar. Powerful males disregard their wishes, try to impose controls on them, and ignore their rights. In spite of this the women survive in their vocations BOOK REVIEWS 737 by perseverance and subtlety. Theirs is a hard road to holiness. Thus in Sydney, Cardinal Norman Gilroy’s frosty relations with the women of St. Joan’s Alliance can be seen as a parallel to his contemporary Anglican Archbishop Howard Mowll’s heavy-handed control of deaconesses, which got heavier in the episcopate of Mowll’s successor, Hugh Rowland Gough. In O’Brien’s view, the turning point for modern Catholic women was the anti-contraceptive encyclical of 1968, Humanae Vitae. Where Vatican Council II had seemed to promise a more open, freer model of church than the old paypray-obey one, the enforcers of Humanae Vitae wanted a return to blind obedience. There is some evidence to suggest that Catholic women of this time contracepted at about the same rate as the general Australian community; and that after three or four children they resorted to abortion at the same rate. So began their long estrangement from the Church. O’Brien thinks that this is the reason why no specifically Catholic feminist groups appeared in these years. Instead, Catholic women joined mainstream feminist bodies or found congenials in broad Christian groupings. It was noticeable how many Catholic (or exCatholic) women became prominent in the women’s movement—training in public speaking and apologetics in Catholic girls’ schools had given them the formation to be leaders. One of the delights of this book is its gallery of portraits of Christian women who might otherwise be unknown. In Bruce Kaye’s collection, Anglicanism in Australia: A History (2002), Anne O’Brien has an essay on women which carries a snapshot of Narelle Bullard, an Anglican missionary in Africa for nearly four decades; now she expands this to give a fuller picture of Bullard, with her hopes and disappointments and tested faith. She stands alongside admirable Catholic nuns whose lives are here recovered from congregational archives. O’Brien’s book will surely encourage other historians to tell the stories of women who barely appear here, such as the wives of clergy and the nuns who founded and ran those big Catholic hospitals, significant elements in the Australian story, but who rarely attract the attention of historians. Catholic Institute of Sydney EDMUND CAMPION The Pope’s Battalions: Santamaria, Catholicism and the Labor Split. By Ross Fitzgerald with the assistance of Adam Carr and William J Dealy. (St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press. Distributed in the U.S.A. and Canada by ISBS, Portland, Oregon. 2003. Pp. x, 342. $31.95.) More than half a century ago, the Catholic Church set out to take over Australian political life. The Church set up an underground organization to infiltrate political parties, to control their agenda, and to assume the leadership of their personnel.With church money, church facilities, and church authority, the organization had some noticeable successes. By 1952 it felt able to report 738 BOOK REVIEWS that within a few years, Australian governments, federal and state, would be legislating its policies. If this sounds shocking today, one should reflect that in a democracy it is legitimate for any interest group to organize politically. Even anti-democrats, such as Communists, have this right. Indeed, it was the threat of Communist power in Australia that had prompted the beginnings of the ecclesiastical organization, to negate such Communist power; only later did other possibilities become apparent. By then, however, the ecclesiastical organization had become a major faction inside the Australian Labor Party, thus attracting the animus of its factional enemies. By then, too, some Catholics were beginning to have doubts: should the Church play politics? In terms of democratic theory it might be acceptable; but what about Catholic theology? Was this why Christ had founded the Church? By and large, such questions came from lay intellectuals, who suffered some obloquy for their questioning. Ecclesiastics were slow to take a stand, until finally the Vatican stepped in and got the Church out of factional politics—formally, if not always in actual fact. The man who headed this Catholic excursion into politics was Bartholomew Augustine Santamaria, a quicksilver lawyer and charismatic speaker who became an inspirational leader. Growing up in the pioneering days of the lay apostolate, he was dedicated to realizing the vision of contemporary Catholic social thinking, however this might be achieved. When the Vatican dumped him, he felt aggrieved but he never reneged on his commitment to Catholic social theories nor to his loyalty to the Church. Facing factional defeat within the Labor Party, Santamaria took his cadres into a new political grouping that kept Labor out of office for more than two decades. As a result, many Australian Catholics are now aligned with the political Right. In outline, this is the story told by Ross Fitzgerald in The Pope’s Battalions. It is a dense book, thick with facts and figures that will delight specialists in political history. Fitzgerald is right to thank warmly his research assistants, whose work adds greatly to the value of the book. General readers may be disheartened by the excessive detail.They will not see the wood for the trees; and they will regret that the author has not written a livelier book. On this score, Fitzgerald had the bad luck to write before the recent publication of Santamaria’s letters.These are a signal proof of Newman’s saying that “a man’s life lies in his letters”; and their successful publication prompts a desire for a full biography of this significant Australian Catholic. Catholic Institute of Sydney EDMUND CAMPION BRIEF NOTICES Hughes, Jill B. (Ed.). The Register of Walter Langton, Bishop of Coventry and Lichfield, 1296-1321, Volume II. [The Canterbury and York Society, Vol. XCVII.] (Rochester, New York: Boydell and Brewer Press for the Canterbury and York Society. 2007. Pp. xiv, 367. $47.95, £25.) Bishops’ registers are an important source. They do, however, vary in interest and may contain little more than standardized entries. It might be expected that an intriguing bishop such as Walter Langton might have an interesting register. It is not, after all, many bishops who are accused of doing homage to the devil and of strangling their mistress’s husband. Further,Walter was Edward I’s most important minister in the king’s later years, and he was subjected to a major state trial under Edward II. Yet this volume of his register contains no hint of such matters. It consists of 177 printed pages of names of those ordained by Langton, with details of who presented them. An appendix demonstrates that Langton officiated regularly at ordinations, above all in December, even during the years when he was serving as treasurer. This volume also contains a valuable itinerary, which makes it very clear that after he had fallen out of royal favor he spent most of his time in his admittedly very large diocese, apart from attending parliament on a regular basis. Another appendix gives in extenso some of the documents that are calendared in the first volume. It is very good to have this part of the register in print, for the sake of completeness; it is, however, the case that it is the first volume that is likely to be consulted regularly, rather than this one. MICHAEL PRESTWICH (University of Durham) Rodriguez, Janel. Meet Fulton Sheen: Beloved Preacher and Teacher of the Word. (Cincinnati, Ohio: Servant Books/St.Anthony Messenger Press. 2006. Pp. x, 158. $9.99 paperback.) In light of the fact that the cause for the canonization of Fulton Sheen is currently underway, and that he has recently been proclaimed a “Servant of God,”perhaps a short introduction to the man and his life fills a niche for those unfamiliar with him. He was generally recognized and eulogized as the greatest preacher and evangelist of the twentieth century in the United States, by journalists and historians alike, at the time of his death in 1979. Father Andrew Apostoli, C.F.R., vice-postulator of the cause, writes in the foreword that Bishop Sheen was a “common household name” to one genera739 740 BRIEF NOTICES tion of Catholics, but often known by today’s younger generation only “by hearsay.” The strength of Ms. Rodriguez’s book can be found in its “readable and attractive style” which covers the main stages of Sheen’s illustrious career—philosopher and professor, prolific writer, preacher of the electronic gospel and convert-maker, anti-communist crusader and missionary, and postVatican II Bishop of Rochester (New York)—while also focusing on Sheen’s character and personal piety. His devotion to the Virgin Mary was well known, as was his practice of the Holy Hour, which inspired many other priests in their vocations. So, for the novice, this book serves a useful purpose, and should encourage those impressed by Sheen’s story to explore further. But, Rodriguez offers little that is new. As the footnotes and sketchy bibliography indicate, she relied heavily on collections of Sheen’s words (of the “best” and “quotations” genre) and three more substantive biographies: Sheen’s autobiography Treasure in Clay; America’s Bishop by Thomas C. Reeves; and my own Fulton J. Sheen: An American Catholic Response to the Twentieth Century (a good proofreader/editor would have noticed that she left out the essential Catholic in the title). In the final analysis, Sheen’s unparalleled life merits a deeper look, commensurate with his own description of a “life worth living” as one of both mystery and adventure. KATHLEEN L. RILEY (Ohio Dominican University) NOTES AND COMMENTS Association News The First Vice-President of the American Catholic Historical Association, the Reverend Robert Bireley, S.J., will be chairman of the Committee on Program for the eighty-ninth annual meeting, which will be held in New York on January 2-5, 2009. Proposals for papers or (preferably) complete sessions, including a brief abstract of the paper and pertinent biographical data about the presenters, should be submitted to Father Bireley by January 28 if they are to be considered for co-sponsorship by the American Historical Association or otherwise by March 1 at the following postal address: Department of History, Loyola University, 6525 North Sheridan Road, Chicago, Illinois 60626, or at his e-mail address: rbirele@luc.edu. With the exception of participants representing another society in a joint session, only members of the Association are eligible to present papers, and no one who will have presented a paper at the eighty-eighth meeting will be permitted to present one at the eighty-ninth. The next spring meeting of the American Catholic Historical Association will be held at Saint Mary’s College, Notre Dame, Indiana, on April 3-5, 2008. The chairman of the organizing committee, Cyriac K. Pullapilly, solicits proposals for complete sessions in any area of church history. Participants who present papers must be members of the Association. Proposals, including a brief abstract of each paper and pertinent biographical data about the presenters, should be submitted to Professor Pullapilly by February 1 either by post in care of the Department of History, Saint Mary’s College, Notre Dame, Indiana 46556-5001, or by telephone: 574-284-4473, or by fax: 574-284-4866, or by email: pullapil@saintmarys.edu. Research Centers and Tools On May 8, 2007 the Vatican announced without previous warning that the Vatican Apostolic Library will be closed to the public for a period of three years, beginning on July 14, 2007 and ending in September 2010, in order to carry out renovations in some parts of the Renaissance building in which it is housed. Among the foreseen projects are a strengthening of the floors and a rationalization of access to books by relocating a number of sectors.While the 20,000 scholars who use the Library annually will have no access during this period to its 1,600,000 printed books, 8,300 incunabula, and 75,000 manuscripts, they will be able to utilize the other services of the Library such as the photographic reproduction of manuscripts. The Vatican Secret Archives will 741 742 NOTES AND COMMENTS remain open during the renovations. Scholars who wish to petition the Holy Father to alleviate the impact of the decision to close the Library may contact Professor Giuseppe De Gregorio (gius.degregorio@libero.it), Presidente della Associazione Italiana dei Paleografi e Diplomatisti, to have their names added to the petition his organization is sending to Pope Benedict XVI. Among the seminars to be offered at the Folger Institute in Washington, D.C. during academic year 2007-2008 is one in the spring semester (Thursdays 1:00 to 4:30 P.M.) by John W. O’Malley, S.J., entitled “The Jesuit Enterprise.”It will seek to situate the various Jesuit projects in the contexts of the CounterReformation as well as in other cultural enterprises. The deadline for application for admission and grant-in-aid is September 4, 2007; for admission only it is January 4, 2008. For further information see www.folger.edu or telephone (202) 675-0333. St. Norbert College, De Pere, Wisconsin, has announced the establishment of a Center for Norbertine Studies. For almost nine centuries, the Canons Regular of Prémontré have followed the example of St. Norbert of Xanten in serving Church and society as contemplatives in action. Abbot Bernard Pennings and his confreres brought the Norbertine charism to Wisconsin and founded St. Norbert College over a century ago. The Center will strive to explore, in collaboration with Norbertines throughout the world, how their precious heritage, so rich in its cultural expression and influence down through the centuries and in today’s diverse global community, can inform and help shape spiritual, intellectual, and cultural life on the campus. The purpose of the Center is to study, reflect upon, and disseminate knowledge and understanding of how the Norbertine motto docere verbo et exemplo—to teach by word and example—is embodied and carried into the future in the context of the Catholic liberal arts tradition of the College. The Center for Norbertine Studies is located on the second floor of the Todd Wehr Library, Room 250. For further information, please contact the Center’s Director, Dr.William P. Hyland, at william.hyland.snc.edu. The Huntington Library has made available on line though its Early California Population Project the histories of 110,000 early Californians, using such information in the mission registers as 101,000 baptisms, 28,000 marriages, and 71,000 burials. The database allows scholars to explore such topics as individual life histories, ecclesiastical administrative practices, fertility and mortality rates, and migration and settlement patterns. Searches of the database can be done using categories of personal names and family relationship, ethnicity, cause of death, military status. Access to the online database is at www.huntington.org. Early English Books Online, a project of the ProQuest Company’s Chadwych-Healey database in the humanities and social sciences, has made available 125,000 rare volumes of printed works ranging from 1473 to 1700, including texts on religion. For a demonstration, visit http://eebo.chadwyck. NOTES AND COMMENTS 743 com and for more information, contact pqsales@il.proquest.com or telephone 800-521-0600, ext. 3344. Exhibitions From May 24 to June 10 an exhibition entitled “Dürer in Italy” was held in the former stables (le Scuderie Pontificie) of the Quirinale Palace in Rome. It featured over one hundred of his paintings, drawings, and engravings that demonstrated how his style was transformed by contact with Italian art and how his religious thought was initially very traditional, but even during the time that he supported Luther he retained such Catholic elements as a deference to church authority, its sacraments, its saints, and popular religious practices. The parish church of S. Maria Maggiore in Vasto (CH), Italy claims to contain one of the thorns from the crown of Christ. Recovered by King St. Louis of France and donated to the cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris, some of its thorns were given as gifts over the century to various sanctuaries. Ferrante Francesco II d’Avalos, delegate of the Philip II of Spain to the Council of Trent, was given one of the thorns by Pius IV. D’Avalos donated it to the church in Vasto, where it miraculously survived a devastating fire in 1645 to be venerated by the faithful each year on the Friday before Holy Week when the relic is carried in solemn procession through the streets of the city. Conferences On March 22 and 24, 2007 the American Cusanus Society sponsored at the meeting of the Renaissance Society of America held in Miami, Florida panels in which three papers of interest to church historians were presented:“‘Reject Aeneas, Hold Fast to Pius?’ The Rhetoric of Virtue in the Piccolomini Library Frescoes” by Kim E. Butler,“Pius II and Papal Authority in the Frescoes of the Piccolomini Library” by Emily O’Brien, and “Nicholas of Cusa and Meaning in Non-Linear Depictions of Sacred Space in Renaissance Painting” by Charles H. Carman. On April 26-28, 2007 a conference was held at the University of Florence with the title “Information and Historical Periods: Writings, Sources, and Data Bases.” Hélène Millet gave a paper that dealt with the data bases for the Fasti Ecclesiae Gallicanae. On May 4-5, 2007 the Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies at Binghamton University sponsored a conference entitled “Accademia Dempsiana” to honor Charles Dempsey on the occasion of his retirement from teaching. Among the papers presented were:“Divine Incarnation and Natural Transmutation in Piero di Cosimo’s Adoration of the Child” by Giancarlo Fiorenza, “The ‘Dispute over the Immaculate Conception’ Attributed to Guillaume de Marcillat at the Gemäldegalerie, Berlin” by Alessandra Galizzi 744 NOTES AND COMMENTS Kroegel, “‘From Sickness Unto Death’: Caravaggio’s Death of the Virgin Reconsidered” by Frances Gage,“Guercino’s Penitent Magdalene for S. Maria Maddalena delle Convertite: Saints and Sinners on Rome’s Via del Corso” by Pamela Jones, “‘Ut Icona Poesis’: Gabriello Chiabrera, Bernardo Castello, and the Sacro Volto in Genoa” by Peter Lukehart,“From Poliziano to Catherine of Siena: Orfeo and Inspired Speech in the Quattrocento” by Jane Tylus, and “Gregorio Lazzarini’s Judith and Holofernes: Decapitation, Islam, and the Venetian State” by Karen-edis Barzman. On May 10, 2007 the American Cusanus Society at the 42nd International Congress on Medieval Studies at Western Michigan University, Kalamazoo, Michigan sponsored two panels at which papers on church history topics were presented: “Enphypostasia Mystica: Reflections on the Christology of Nicholas of Cusa”by Philip McCosker,“Empire, Emperor, and Council of Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini’s Pentalogus” by Emily O’Brien, and “Pius II and Bohemia: History and the Heretical Nation” by Philip Haberkern. On May 25-26, 2007 an international conference entitled “Futuro latino: la lingua latina per la costruzione e l’identità dell’Europa” was held in Rome and Vatican City. Sponsored by the Consiglio Nazionale delle Ricerche and the Pontificio Comitato di Scienze Storiche, the conference investigated the role of Latin in the formation of the European community, its significance for scientific and cultural development, and its relevance in the culture of the contemporary world. The European Commissioner for Education, Ján Figeľ, suggested how to promote its study, while Wang Huansheng spoke of the interest in China for this language. On May 28-29, 2007 the Canadian Catholic Historical Association held its Annual Conference at St. Thomas More College, University of Saskatchewan. Among the papers presented were: “A Re-appraisal of 19th-Century OblateAboriginal Relations: Oral History and Archival Documents in the MiddleGround of Memory” by Keith Thor Carlson,“Ojibwa and Christian Sources for William Whipple Warren’s Robust Moral Code” by Michael Pomedli,“Reading the Faith: Instructional Texts in Ontario Catholic Schools” by Elizabeth Smyth, “Canadian Social Catholics Begin to Restructure the Institutional Church: Reassessing the Relationship between the Roman Catholic Church and the CCF, 1931-1944” by Robert H. Dennis, “‘To Enlarge Our Hearts and To Widen Our Horizon’: Archbishop Neil McNeil of Toronto and the Origins of Social Catholicism in English-Speaking Canada” by Peter E. Baltutis,“A Crime Against Moral and Divine Law; Catholic Protests Against Eugenic Sterilization in Manitoba During the 1930s” by John Mays, “Gender and the Care Divide: Filipino Catholics in Canada, 1992-2005” by Glenda Lynna Anne Tibe Bonifacio, “Belgians and School Questions in Western Canada” by Cornelius Jaenen, “Father Andrew MacDonell (1870-1958): A Scottish Benedictine and His Passion for Canada” by Glenn Wright, “The Second Synod of the Diocese of London” by Pasquale A. Fiorino, “‘An Imperialist Irishman’: Bishop Michael NOTES AND COMMENTS 745 Fallon, the Diocese of London, and the Great War” by Adrian Ciani, “Sisters Servants of Mary Immaculate (SSMI)” by Christine Lei, “Governance and Mission within the Sisters of Charity: Chapter Reports as Primary Sources” by Elizabeth McGahan, “Tapestry of Change: Ursulines of Prelate, 1919-2007” by Magdalen Stengler, OSU, “Coming of Age in the Convent During the Great Depression” by Heidi MacDonald, “John Webster Grant’s Contribution to Aboriginal Historiography” by Sussan Neylon, “John Webster Grant’s Contribution to Catholic Historiography,” by Marc McGowan, “John Webster Grant as a Church Leader” by John Young,“Researching Prairie Church History Online: Materials Related to the Catholic Church on the Peel’s Prairie Provinces Web Site” by Robert P. Cole, “Realizing the Digitial Dream and Avoiding the Nightmares: Looking at the Impact of Digital Repositories on the Study of the History of Religion in Western Canada” by Chris Hackett, “‘The Pirates of the Penitentiary’: Patronage and Religion in Nineteenth-Century British Columbia” by Patricia Roy, and “Shaping a Gentle Province:The Role of Catholic Sisters in Saskatchewan” by Teresita Roy, OSU. On September 28-29, 2007 the Société canadienne d’histoire de l’Église catholique will hold a congress at the Université du Québec à Trois-Rivières. Among the papers to be presented are:“Catholicisme et conservationnisme au Québec: le cas de l’abbé Léon Provancher, 1820-1892” by Frédéric Barriault, “Lionel Groulx et ses lectures européennes (1921-1939)” by Patrick Dionne, “Oeuvre spirituelle ou éducative? L’École de musique Vincent-d’Indy des Soeurs des Saints Noms de Jésus et de Marie, de 1932 à 1978” by Dominique Laperle, “Regards bioarchéologiques sur les coutumes funéraires aux XVIIeXIXe siècle” by Gérard Gagné, “Le cimetière Saint-Louis de Trois-Rivières” by Violaine Damphousse,“‘La foi de leurs pères’: la mission catholique de l’Île-àla-Crosse et l’apothéose du Métis, 1846-1898” by Timothy P. Foran, “Pratiques religieuses des Acadiens du sud-ouest de la Nouvelle-Écosse à la fin du XIXe siècle” by Micheline Laliberté, “‘Adolescent, qui es-tu’: l’éducation morale et religieuse des adolescents à l’école publique québécoise, 1952-1959” by Charlène Paradis, “L’Action paroissiale des Pères Jésuites de la Paroisse Immaculée-Conception (1909-1939)” by Frédéric Boutin, “L’Église catholique acteur de la francophonie en Amérique du Nord: L’exemple de la culture acadienne” by Gwénaël Lamarque,“L’Église catholique et la société québécoise de l’après-guerre: un modèle pour l’Amérique latine?” by Maurice Demers, “L’Ordre Jacques-Cartier” by Denise Robillard, “Institutions et identité religieuse dans la ville: Montréal, 1861-1901” by Sherry Olson and Rosalyn Trigger, and “Les pèlerinages à Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré, Notre-Dame-du-Cap et l’Oratoire Saint-Joseph: un phénomène entre tradition et modernité” by Suzanne Boutin. On April 11-12, 2008 a conference entitled “The Risorgimento Revisited” will be held at the Italian Academy of Columbia University in New York. Among the topics to be explored are “Religion and Religious Identity.” Those wishing to present a paper at the conference should have submitted by April 746 NOTES AND COMMENTS 30, 2007 a title and brief abstract with a statement of their academic or professional affiliation to Silvana Patriarca (patriarca@fordham.edu) and Lucy Riall (l.riall@history.bbk.ac.uk). Canonizations and Beatifications On May 8, 2007 the Congregation for Saints’ Causes (consisting of thirty cardinals and bishops from around the world) voted unanimously to recommend that Benedict XVI declare Pope Pius XII “Venerable.” It was hoped that such an action would help bring to an end the controversy as to whether the pontiff did enough to assist the victims of the Nazis. He had authorized false baptismal certificates for Jews, the opening of the doors of monasteries and convents to hide them, and the distribution of visas to them in order to save their lives. In his Christmas messages during the war, Pius XII denounced theories of racial superiority and the killing of hundred of thousands of people because of their nationality or race. Soon after the Congregation’s announcement, Abraham Foxman, director of the American Anti-Defamation League, urged Benedict XVI to suspend action on the recommendation until all the documents in the Vatican Archives regarding Pius XII are made available. On June 2, 2007 Pope Benedict XVI approved the decree for the canonization of the third-order Poor Clare Sister Alphonsa of the Immaculate Conception (born Anna Muttathupandathu) (1910-1946) of India and the laywoman Narcisa de Jesús Martillo Morán (1833-1869) of Ecuador. The beatification of the theologian, philosopher, and founder of the Institute of Charity and of the Sisters of Providence, Father Antonio Rosmini (1791-1855), was also approved.The cause of 320 candidates for beatification was advanced by the recognition of their martyrdom and miracles. Of these, 127 are religious martyred during the Spanish Civil War in 1936, including the Augustinian priest Avellino Rodríguez Alonso with ninety-seven fellow religious of the same order, and Sister Emmanuela of the Heart of Jesus (born Manuela Arriola Uranga) with twenty-two companions of the Institute of Handmaiden Adorers of the Most Holy Sacrament and of Charity. The Jesuit priest Peter Kibe Kasui and 187 companions were martyred in Japan between 1603 and 1639. The Austrian peasant, husband, and father of three, Franz Jägerstätter (1907-1943), who was guillotined in Berlin for refusing to collaborate with the Nazis, was declared a martyr. On June 3, 2007 in St. Peter’s Square with the presidents of Malta, Poland, Ireland, and the Philippines in attendance, Benedict XVI canonized four saints: George Preca (1880-1962), Szymon of Lipnica (c.1435-1482), Karl van Sint Andries Houben (1821-1893), and Marie Anne-Eugénie de Jésus Milleret (18171898). George Preca, who spent his life in Malta, became a diocesan priest in 1906 and founded the Society of Christian Doctrine in 1907 for lay persons dedicated to prayer, a simple evangelical lifestyle, and the catechesis of youth. After many difficulties, the society was canonically established in 1932. As stu- NOTES AND COMMENTS 747 dent at the University of Krakow, Szymon heard St. John of Capistrano and was inspired to join the Observant Franciscans. He became a famous preacher and promoter of the devotion to the Holy Name of Jesus, dying from the plague which he contracted from caring for those afflicted with the disease. The Dutch Passionist priest, Karel van Sint Andries (born Johannes Andreas) Houben, spent many years of his priestly ministry in Ireland from 1856 onward at the monastery of Mount Argus in Dublin, providing wise counsel and caring for the sick. Miraculous healing power is attributed to the intercession of St. Charles of Mount Argus. Anne-Eugénie Milleret de Brou was born and raised in Metz in a non-believing, financially comfortable family, but moved to Paris with her mother when the parents separated on the collapse of the father’s fortune. The death of her mother and the sermons of the youthful Abbé Lacordaire led to her conversion, and in 1839 she founded the Institute of Sisters of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin dedicated to Christian education. Six years later her spiritual director, Father Emmanuel d’Alzon, founded the Augustinians of the Assumption. Today there are almost 1,200 Assumptionist sisters in thirtyfour countries. Publications The twenty-seventh Dies academicus of the Accademia di San Carlo (Milan), which was held on November 25-26, 2005, was devoted to the theme “Cultura e spiritualità borromaica tra Cinque e Seicento.” The papers presented on those days have been edited by Franco Buzzi and Maria Luisa Frosio and are now published in Volume 20 (2006) of Studia Borromaica (published by the Biblioteca Ambrosiana): Alain Tallon,“San Carlo Borromeo e la Francia: santità e relazioni internazionali nel secondo Cinquecento” (pp. 31-42); Franco Buzzi, “«Ante orationem praepara animam tuam». Il De Oratione di Carlo Borromeo e la spiritualità del suo tempo” (pp. 43-90); Danilo Zardin, “Il «Manuale» di Epitteto e la tradizione dello stoicismo cristiano tra Cinque e Seicento” (pp. 91-116); Marzia Giuliani, “«Lectiones Familiares». L’attualità dei padri e la spiritualità borromaica fra Cinque e Seicento” (pp. 117-143); Simon Ditchfield,“San Carlo and the Cult of Saints” (pp. 145-154); Claudia di Filippo, “Le donne nella chiesa borromaica” (pp. 155-184); Ronnie Po-Chia Hsia, “La questione del clero indigeno nella missione cattolica in Cina nel sedicesimo e diciassettesimo secolo” (pp. 185-194); Jean-Louis Quantin,“De la rigueur au rigorisme. Les Avvertenze ai Confessori de Charles Borromée dans la France du XVIIe siècle” (pp. 195-251); Bernard Dompnier, “La devotion à Charles Borromée dans la France du XVIIe siècle. Représentations d’un saint et histoire de son culte” (pp. 253-292); Andrea Spiriti, “Da Carlo Borromeo a Carlo VI: iconografia politica nella Karlskirche di Vienna” (pp. 293-316); Pietro Delpero, Rappresentazione iconografica di Carlo Borromeo in area bavarese tra Sei e Settecento” (pp. 317-337); Robert L. Kendrick,“Federico Borromeo e l’estetica della musica sacra” (pp.339-350); and Roberta Carpani,“Percorsi della cultura biblica e modelli di santità nel teatro e nella spettacolarità lombarda nell’età di Federico Borromeo” (pp. 351-391). 748 NOTES AND COMMENTS The “very special” issue of Mémoire Spiritaine for the second half of 2006 (Number 24) consists of a monograph by Paul Coulon entitled “Libermann 18221826: De l’école talmudique (Metz) au baptême en Christ (Paris)” (pp. 3-173). Five articles in the Australasian Catholic Record for April, 2007 (Volume 84, Number 2), deal with “Australian History,” as follows: Josephine Laffin,“The Public Role of Bishops: Matthew Beovich, the ALP [Australian Labor Party] Split and the Vietnam War” (pp. 131-144); Mary Elizabeth Calwell, “Influences, Insights and Implications” (pp. 145-153); John Braniff,“State of Play: A Survey of Current Australian Historiography in Catholic Church History and the History of Education” (pp. 154-168); Robert Rice, “Archbishop John O’Reily: First Bishop of Port Augusta and Second Archbishop of Adelaide—Some Aspects of His Theology and Practice” (pp. 169-184); and Tony Paganoni,“The Italian Community in Australia: Historical Notes on Pastoral Care, Its Development to Date and Future Options” (pp. 185-203). The Passionist Heritage Newsletter 14, no. 1 (Winter, 2007) contains two articles by Father Robert Carbonneau, C.P., on fund-raising in America: “Early Passionist Fund-Raising,” pp. 1-3, 7, and “Passionist Fund-Raising: The Sign and the Missions,” pp. 4, 6. Personals Professor Giuseppe Alberigo, a corresponding fellow of the American Catholic Historical Association since 1995, professor emeritus in the Department of Political Science of the University of Bologna, and Director of the Istituto per le scienze religiose in Bologna, died on June 15, 2007 after two months in a coma following a severe stroke. The Reverend Paschal M. Baumstein, O.S. B., was awarded an honorary doctorate of humane letters by Belmont Abbey College on April 20, 2007 in recognition of his life of scholarship, especially his study of the thought of Anselm of Canterbury. Professor Frank J. Coppa of St. John’s University has been appointed associate editor of the New Catholic Encyclopedia. PERIODICAL LITERATURE General and Miscellaneous ,,Favoriten haben noch größere Chancen...“ Beobachtungen zur Entwicklung des Papstwahlrechts des 20. Jh unter dem Blickwinkel der ,,Nachfolgesouveränität“. Stefan Schima. Österreichisches Archiv für Recht & Religion, 52 (3, 2005), 424-492. La place de l’histoire dans les études liturgiques. Robert Cabié. Ecclesia Orans, XXIII (Sept.-Dec., 2006), 321-335. Byzantines in Italy:A Microcosm of an Evolving Ecclesiology. John D. Faris. The Jurist, 67 (1, 2007), 89-108. La Sapientia dello Studium Urbis di Roma. Bartolomeo Azzaro. Studi Romani, LIII (July-Dec., 2005), 482-496. Friends or Foes? The Islamic East and the West. Christopher J. Walker. History Today, 57 (Mar., 2007), 50-57. Sociabilidad campesina y cultura religiosa en el interior de la diócesis de Santiago (siglos XVI-XIX). Fernando Suárez Golán. Compostellanum, LI (July-Dec., 2006), 491-523. Writing the History of African Christianity: Reflections of an Editor. David Maxwell. Journal of Religion in Africa, 36 (3-4, 2006), 379-399. Ancient Aur(eliae) Petronillae filiae dulcissimae: qualche considerazione sulla leggenda di Petronilla presunta figlia dell’apostolo Pietro. Roberto Giordani. Studi Romani, LIII (July-Dec., 2005), 411-430. Iniziazione pagana e iniziazione cristiana (I-III sec.): le vie della salvezza. Ottorino Pasquato. Augustinianum, XLVI (June, 2006), 5-23. The Profession of Faith in Early Christian Baptism. Paul F. Bradshaw. Ecclesia Orans, XXIII (Sept.-Dec., 2006), 337-355. Ignatius’ Pagan Background in Second Century Asia Minor. Allen Brent. Zeitschrift für antikes Christentum—Journal of Ancient Christianity, 10 (2, 2006), 207-232. ¿Cánones del Concilio de Elvira o Cánones Pseudoiliberritanos? Josep Vilella and Pere-Enric Barreda. Augustinianum, XLVI (Dec., 2006), 285-373. “My Lord’s Native Land”: Mapping the Christian Holy Land. Julie Ann Smith. Church History, 76 (Mar., 2007), 1-31. 749 750 PERIODICAL LITERATURE Was the Tomus ad Antiochenos a Pacific Document? Tom Elliott. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 58 (Jan., 2007), 1-8. Johannes Chrysostomos und Byzanz. Gerhard Podskalsky. Augustinianum, XLVI (June, 2006), 157-167. Anastasius I and Innocent I: Reconsidering the Evidence of Jerome. Geoffrey D. Dunn. Vigiliae Christianae, LXI (1, 2007), 30-41. Vir Maxime Catholicus: Sulpicius Severus’ Use and Abuse of Jerome in the Dialogi. Richard J. Goodrich. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 58 (Apr., 2007), 189-210. The Constantinopolitan Abbot Dius: his life, cult and hagiographical dossier. Dirk Krausmüller. Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies, 31 (1, 2007), 1331. La figure des apôtres dans les martyrologes latins. Philippe Beitia. Bulletin de Littérature Ecclésiastique, CVII (Oct.-Dec., 2006), 395-418. La bibliothèque du Monastère de Lérins dans les premiers décennies du V e siècle. Martine Dulaey. Augustinianum, XLVI (June, 2006), 187-230. Spätantike Bildungstraditionen im Umkreis des Klosters von Lerinum. Die Kompendienwerke des Eucherius von Lyon. Katharina Greschat. Zeitschrift für antikes Christentum—Journal of Ancient Christianity, 10 (2, 2006), 320-335. Le modèle des Maccabées dans la pastorale gauloise au V e siècle. Françoise Prévot. Revue d’Histoire de l’Église de France, 92 (July-Dec., 2006), 319-342. Leonzio di Bisanzio e Leonzio di Gerusalemme: una chiara distinzione. Carlo Dell’Osso. Augustinianum, XLVI (June, 2006), 231-259. Der ,Cherubische Einzug’ im ,Tempel des Lichts’. Die Inszenierung der geistlichen Identität des christlichen Kaisers in der Spätantike. Wolfgang Christian Schneider. Zeitschrift für antikes Christentum—Journal of Ancient Christianity, 10 (2, 2006), 336-357. The Preface to Book V of Gregory of Tours’ Histories: Its Form, Context and Significance. Guy Halsall. English Historical Review, CXXII (Apr., 2007), 297-317. Medieval Gregorio Magno e gli Anglosassoni. Considerazioni sullo sviluppo di una strategia missionaria. Fabrizio Conti. Studi Romani, LIII (July-Dec., 2005), 460-481. Reluctant Kings and Christian Conversion in Seventh-Century England. Damian Tyler. History, 92 (Apr., 2007), 144-161. St Bega—myth, maiden, or bracelet? An Insular cult and its origins. Clare Downham. Journal of Medieval History, 33 (Mar., 2007), 33-42. PERIODICAL LITERATURE 751 From Iconoclasm to Arianism: The Construction of Christian Tradition in the Iconoclast Controversy. David M. Gwynn. Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies, 47 (Spring, 2007), 225-251. Sanctuary, Penance, and Dispute Settlement under Charlemagne: The Conflict between Alcuin and Theodulf of Orléans over a Sinful Cleric. Rob Meens. Speculum, 82 (Apr., 2007), 277-300. La scuola cattedrale di Benevento e il vescovo Urso (secolo IX). Giuseppe Gianluca Cicco. Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia, LX (July-Dec., 2006), 341-373. Patriarch Photius and Pope Nicholas I and the Council of 879. Clarence Gallagher, S.J. The Jurist, 67 (1, 2007), 72-88. Una raccolta canonica a Livorno restituita al sec. IX Simona Gavinelli. Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia, LX (July-Dec., 2006), 375-389. Heiligenverehrung “im Kontext”: Beobachtungen am Beispiel Bischof Konrads von Konstanz. Bernhard Theil. Freiburger Diözesan-Archiv, 126 (2006), 523. Some New Letters of Popes Urban II and Paschal II. Martin Brett. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 58 (Jan., 2007), 75-96. Entre gesta, chronique et nécrologe: une Notitia memorialis de Saint-Julien de Tours (début XII e siècle). Chantal Senséby. Journal des Savants (July-Dec., 2006), 197-251. Archidiaconal and vice-archidiaconal acta: additions and corrections. B. R. Kemp. Historical Research, LXXX (Feb., 2007), 1-21. Mise au point sur Les cathares devant l’histoire et retour sur L’histoire du catharisme en discussion: le débat sur la charte de Niquinta n’est pas clos. Monique Zerner. Journal des Savants (July-Dec., 2006), 253-273. A Turbulent History [Thomas Becket]. Michael Staunton. History Today, 57 (Apr., 2007), 22-28. The limits of conversion: ritual murder and the Virgin Mary in the account of Adam of Bristol. Harvey J. Hames. Journal of Medieval History, 33 (Mar., 2007), 43-59. Notariato e istituzioni ecclesiastiche ad Assisi nei secoli XII-XIV. Nicolangelo D’Acunto. Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia, LX (July-Dec., 2007), 391404. What’s in a name? Clerical representations of Parisian beguines (1200-1328). Tanya Stabler Miller. Journal of Medieval History, 33 (Mar., 2007), 60-86. El convento de San Francisco de Valladolid en la Edad Media (h. 1220-1518): Vida en el convento y proyección social. Francisco Javier Rojo Alique. Archivo Ibero-Americano, LXVI (Sept.-Dec., 2006), 413-594. 752 PERIODICAL LITERATURE La tombe découverte à l’abbaye de Clairvaux en 1820 est-elle celle de Guillaume de Joinville, archevêque de Reims († 1226)? Laurent Veyssière. Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes, 164 (Jan.-June, 2006), 5-41. Lo Studium di Vercelli fra contesto e tradizione. Germana Gandino. Bollettino Storico-Bibliografico Subalpino, CIV (2, 2006), 599-626. Gli affreschi costantiniani nella Chiesa romana dei Quattro coronati (XIII secolo). Arnaldo Marcone. Rivista Storica Italiana, CXVIII (Dec., 2006), 912-932. Conversion and St. Louis’s Last Crusade. Michael Lower. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 58 (Apr., 2007), 211-231. Contra damnationis filios: the Visconti in fourteenth-century papal diplomacy. Sharon Dale. Journal of Medieval History, 33 (Mar., 2007), 1-32. From Black Magic to Heresy: A Doctrinal Leap in the Pontificate of John XXII. Isabel Iribarren. Church History, 76 (Mar., 2007), 32-60. The Power of Books and the Practice of Mysticism in the Fourteenth Century: Heinrich of Nördlingen and Margaret Ebner on Mechthild’s Flowing Light of the Godhead. Patricia Zimmerman Beckman. Church History, 7 (Mar., 2007), 67-83. Les Constitutions de Grégoire XI pour le Chapitre du Latran (1369-1373). Louis Duval-Arnould. Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia, LX (July-Dec., 2006), 405-450. La abadía secular de San Martín de Gurullés. Sus propiedades a comienzos del s. XV. Ma Josefa Sanz Fuentes. Studium Ovetense, XXXII (2004), 367-391. The Chronicle of John Strecche and its place in medieval historical records of England and Kenilworth Priory. G. M. Hilton. Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of Manchester, 85 (Spring, 2003), 23-36. Jean Gerson (1363-1429) and the Formation of German National Identity. Yelena Mazour-Matusevich. Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, 101 (July-Dec., 2006), 963-987. Menén Suárez de Valdés, abad de Cenero: relaciones entre Iglesia y Nobleza en Asturias durante el siglo XV. Jesús Antonio González Calle. Studium Ovetense, XXXII (2004), 103-140. The Second Anonymous Continuation of the Crowland Abbey Chronicle 145986 Revisited. Michael Hicks. English Historical Review, CXXII (Apr., 2007), 349-370. Comment prouver au Parlement qu’on est archevêque ? Un inventaire de production pour Pierre Cadouet, archevêque de Bourges, au début du règne de Charles VIII. Véronique Julerot. Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes, 164 (Jan.-June, 2006), 159-201. Les solidarités par-delà la mort à Dijon à la fin du Moyen Âge. Gaëlle Tarbochez. Revue de l’histoire des religions, 222 (Jan.-Mar., 2005), 25-41. PERIODICAL LITERATURE 753 Sixteenth Century The agony of the Virgin: The Swoons and Crucifixion of Mary in Sixteenth Century Castilian Passion Treatises. Jessica A. Boon. Sixteenth Century Journal, XXXVIII (Spring, 2007), 3-25. Le “protestantisme” des libraires et typographes lyonnais (1520-1560). Jean François Gilmont. Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, 101 (July-Dec., 2006), 988-1012. La obra y fábrica de la Catedral de Oviedo tras el incendio de 1521. Documentos referentes a las dificultades económicas. Carmen María Labra González. Studium Ovetense, XXXII (2004), 189-218. Thomas Cranmer and Johannes Dantiscus: Retraction and Additions. Diarmaid MacCulloch. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 58 (Apr., 2007), 273-286. ‘Against them all for to fight’: Friar John Pickering and the Pilgrimage of Grace. Susan E. James. Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of Manchester, 85 (Spring, 2003), 36-74. The Tudor polity and the pilgrimage of grace. M. L. Bush. Historical Research, LXXX (Feb., 2006), 47-72. Libros de Papel, Libri Bianchi, Libri Papyracei. Note-taking Techniques and the Role of Student Notebooks in the Early Jesuit Colleges. Paul Nelles. Archivum Historicum Societatis Jesu, LXXVI (Jan.-June, 2007), 75-112. The Luther Legacy. Derek Wilson. History Today, 57 (May, 2007), 34-39. Urban Order and Religious Coexistence in the German Imperial City:Augsburg and Donauwörth, 1548-1608. C. Scott Dixon. Central European History, 40 (Mar., 2007), 1-33. Reinventing the Russian Monarchy in the 1550s: Ivan the Terrible, the Dynasty, and the Church. Sergei Bogatyrev. Slavic and East European Review, 85 (Apr., 2007), 271-293. Re-imaging the Marian Catholic Church. William Wizeman, S.J. Recusant History, 28 (May, 2007), 353-364. The Rôle of John Fisher’s Memory and Philip Melanchthon’s Hermeneutics in the Household of Bishop Stephen Gardiner. Ian Campbell. Recusant History, 28 (May, 2007), 365-377. Gaspar de Grajar en la disidencia universitaria salmantina del siglo XVI. Saturnino Álvarez Turienzo. La Ciudad de Dios, CCXX (Jan.-Apr., 2007), 217244. Confessionalization and Literature in the Empire, 1555-1700. Ute Lotz-Heumann and Matthias Pohlig. Central European History, 40 (Mar., 2007), 35-61. Hero or Villain? Interpretations of John Calvin and His Legacy. Karin Y. Maag. Calvin Theological Journal, 41 (Nov., 2006), 222-237. 754 PERIODICAL LITERATURE Possessing the Sacred: Monarchy and Identity in Philip II’s Relic Collection at the Escorial. Guy Lazure. Renaissance Quarterly, LX (Spring, 2007), 58-93. Markgraf Jacob III. von Baden (1562-1590). Ein konfessioneller Konflikt und sein Opfer. Hans-Jürgen Günther. Freiburger Diözesan-Archiv, 126 (2006), 201-269. Viète’s Controversy with Clavius Over the Truly Gregorian Calendar. Reinhold Bien. Archive for History of Exact Sciences, 61 (Jan., 2007), 39-66. Paulus Melissus and Jacobus Falckenburgius: Two German Protestant Humanists at the Court of Queen Elizabeth. Lee Piepho. Sixteenth Century Journal, XXXVIII (Spring, 2007), 97-110. “They have taken away my Lord”: Mary Magdalene, Christ’s Missing Body, and the Mass in Reformation England. Lisa McClain. Sixteenth Century Journal, XXXVIII (Spring, 2007), 77-96. Los jesuitas y el teatro: el “Códice de Villagarcía” de Juan Bonifacio, dramaturgo y poeta. Jesús Menéndez Peláez and Félix González Olmedo. Studium Ovetense, XXXII (2004), 403-464. The Jesuits and Devotion to Our Lady in the England of Elizabeth I and James I. Francis Edwards, S.J. Recusant History, 28 (May, 2007), 345-352. Jean Errard, entre loyauté dynastique et engagement confessionnel. Hugues Marsat. Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du Protestantisme Français, 153 (Jan., Feb., Mar., 2007), 9-18. St Aloysius Gonzaga: Autograph Letter in Manresa House Novitiate. Joseph A. Munitiz, S.J. Archivum Historicum Societatis Jesu, LXXVI (Jan.-June, 2007), 139-149. Andächtiges Staunen—Ungläubige Verwunderung. Religiöse Differenzerfahrungen in Reisezeugnissen des 16. and 17. Jahrhunderts. Dorothea Nolde. Francia, 33 (2, 2006), 13-34. Die Carta Caritatis des Zisterzienserordens in einer alemannischen Handschrift des 16. Jahrhunderts. Maria Pia Schindele OCist. Freiburger DiözesanArchiv, 126 (2006), 271-323. La circolazione dei libri e delle idee nella Provincia dei Cappuccini di Cosenza tra Cinque e Seicento: la formazione culturale e il catalogo delle biblioteche.Vincenzo Criscuolo. Laurentianum, 47 (3, 2006), 439-571. Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries Les prêtes des campagnes de la France du XVII e siècle: la grande mutation. Serge Brunet. XVII e Siècle, 59 (Jan., 2007), 49-82. Through the eyes of rural notaries: business, community and confessional divisions in seventeenth-century Poitou. Daniel Hickey. French History, 21 (Mar., 2007), 1-21. PERIODICAL LITERATURE 755 Oportet Meliora Tempora Non Expectare Sed Facere. The Arduous Life of Francis Tregian, the Younger. Pamela Willetts. Recusant History, 28 (May, 2007), 378-396. Discovering Gunpowder Plot: The King’s Book and the Dissemination of News. Mark Nicholls. Recusant History, 28 (May, 2007), 397-417. La Cofradía de los Morenos y primeros años de los Dominicos en Cádiz. Fray Vicente Días Rodríguez. Communio (Seville), XXXIX (July-Dec., 2006), 359484. Demografía histórica de la parroquia de San Julián de Somió. Patricia Herrero Sánchez and Ma Cristina López Meana. Studium Ovetense, XXXII (2004), 141-167. De la défense des “impurs” à la critique du Saint-Office. Le plaidoyer de Juan Bautista de Villadiego (1636). Natalia Muchnik. Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, 101 (July-Dec., 2006), 1014-1037. ‘Affronts & Insolencies’: The Voices of Radwinter and Popular Opposition to Laudianism. John Walter. English Historical Review, CXXII (Feb., 2007), 3560. The Catholic Church and the English Civil War: The Case of Thomas White. Stefania Tutino. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 58 (Apr., 2007), 232-255. Los visitadores del arcedianato de Ribadeo a partir de la mitad del siglo XVII. Enrique López Fernández. Studium Ovetense, XXXII (2004), 219-254. Gesuitismo e antigesuitismo nell’Italia del Sei-Settecento. Mario Rosa. Rivista di Storia e Letteratura Religiosa, XLII (2, 2006), 247-280. St John Plessington, Priest and Martyr. Peter Phillips. Recusant History, 28 (May, 2007), 424-455. La dénonciation du nicodémisme à l’époque de la Révocation de l’Édit de Nantes. Laetitia Cherdon. Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du Protestantisme Français, 153 (Jan., Feb., Mar., 2007), 47-64. “Faire Communauté”. Confréries et localité dans une vallée du Piémont (XVII eXVIII e siècle). Angelo Torre. Annales, 62 (Jan.-Feb., 2007), 101-135. Aproximación a la iconografía jacobea propia de Padrón: memoria de la presencia del Apóstol Santiago en Galicia. Marta Paz Fernández. Com-postellanum, LI (July-Dec., 2006), 441-490. Swedish Pietism (1700-1727) as Resistance and Popular Religion. Todd Green. Lutheran Quarterly, XXI (Spring, 2007), 59-77. The Church and politics in ‘disaffected’ Manchester, 1718-31. Kazuhiko Kondo. Historical Research, LXXX (Feb., 2006), 100-123. Le pèlerinage dans le Saint-Empire au XVIII e siècle: pratiques dévotionelles et identités collectives. Christophe Duhamelle. Francia, 33 (2, 2006), 69-96. 756 PERIODICAL LITERATURE Aspectos de la Semana Santa en el Madrid de Carlos IV. M.a L. Gil Meana. La Ciudad de Dios, CCXX (Jan.-Apr., 2007), 59-72. The Letters from Rome of John Thorpe, S.J. to Charles Plowden, S.J., 1784-92. Geoffrey Holt, S.J. Recusant History, 28 (May, 2007), 434-457. ‘Apostolick Warfare’: the Reverend Melvill Horne and the development of missions in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Suzanne Schwarz. Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of Manchester, 85 (Spring, 2003), 65-93. Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Neuere Publikationen zu Napoleon und zum Sacre von 1804. Guido Braun. Francia, 33 (2, 2006), 97-122. Das Erzbistum Freiburg—ein großherzoglich badisches Erbe? Karl-Heinz Braun. Freiburger Diözesan-Archiv, 126 (2006), 72-92. La farmacopea del missionario. Il Ricettario di Vincenzo Gagliardi C.SS.R. (1763-1841). Giuseppe Orlandi, C.SS.R. Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., LV (1, 2007), 183-244. Les Rédemptoristes en Belgique: 1ère partie: Les débuts (1831-1841). Jean Beco, C.SS.R. Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., LV (1, 2007), 3-83. Das Priesterseminar in St. Peter als Nachfolger der Benediktinerabtei. Philipp Müller. Freiburger Diözesan-Archiv, 126 (2006), 49-64. Lacordaire et Rousseau. Anne Philibert. Revue d’Histoire de l’Église de France, 92 (July-Dec., 2006), 359-380. Luigi Pirandello e i Redentoristi. Giuseppe Russo, C.SS.R. Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., LV (1, 2007), 85-108. Educación para la regeneración social, José Gras (1834-1918). Juan Sánchez Ocaña. Communio (Seville), XXXIX (July-Dec., 2006), 577-603. Alumnos Españoles en el internado Jesuita de Beaumont (Old Windsor, Inglaterra), 1861-1868. Bernardo Rodríguez Caparrini. Archivum Historicum Societatis Jesu, LXXVI (Jan.-June, 2007), 3-37. La Madre Teresa Titos Garzón, pedagoga y educadora ejemplar (1852-1915). Urbano Alonso del Campo, O.P. Communio (Seville), XXXIX (July-Dec., 2006), 553-576. Desenvolvimento missionário de são Ezequiel em Filipinas (1871-1876). Claudio Do Nascimento. Mayéutica, XXXI (Jan.-June, 2005), 153-160. ‘New heaven and new earth’: translation and conversion on Aneityum. Helen Bethea Gardner. Journal of Pacific History, XLI (Dec., 2006), 293-311. Crispi e il conclave di Leone XIII. Carlo M. Fiorentino. Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia, LX (July-Dec., 2006), 451-480. PERIODICAL LITERATURE 757 Introdução ao estudo do protestantismo em Portugal (o caso de Diogo Cassels). Ms. Fernando Peixoto. Revista Teológica, 66 (July-Dec., 2006), 9-36. Die Polenseelsorge der Polnischen Redemptoristen in Deutschland. Marian Brudzisz, C.SS.R. Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., LV (1, 2007), 109-161. Le linceul de Turin victime d’Ulysse Chevalier. Emmanuel Poulle. Revue d’Histoire de l’Église de France, 92 (July-Dec., 2006), 343-358. Malheur devenu bénédiction. Un siècle de modernisme. Jürgen Mettepenningen. Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, 101 (July-Dec., 2006), 1039-1069. Heirs of Richard Baxter? The Society of Free Catholics, 1914-1928. Elaine Kaye. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 58 (Apr., 2007), 256-272. 90 Jahre Konradsblatt. Die Entstehung des St. Konradsblatts als Familienblatt der Erzdiözese Freiburg, 1916/17. Stefanie Schneider. Freiburger DiözesanArchiv, 126 (2006), 149-162. Un surgeon inattendu du Traité de Versailles: le Collège protestant français de Beyrouth. Jean-Paul Eyrard and Georges Krebs. Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du Protestantisme Français, 153 (Jan., Feb., Mar., 2007), 83-97. Le réseau louvaniste de Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. Raf De Bont. Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, 101 (July-Dec., 2006), 1071-1090. Le mémorial de la Grande Guerre à Sainte-Anne d’Auray. Monument de la commémoration de masse catholique (1921-1937). Frédéric Le Moigne. Annales de Bretagne et des Pays de l’Ouest, 113 (4, 2006), 49-75. Wahlkampfstrategie und politisches Selbstverständnis der Badischen Zentrumspartei in der Endphase der Weimarer Republik (1929/30-1933). Michael Kitzing. Freiburger Diözesan-Archiv, 126 (2006), 93-132. Methodism, peace and war, 1932-45. Michael Hughes. Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of Manchester, 85 (Spring, 2003), 147-167. A Cult from Above: The Cause for Canonisation of John Fisher and Thomas More. John Davies. Recusant History, 28 (May, 2007), 458-474. El agustino P. Francisco Marcos del Río, inmolado por la fe (30-XI-1936). Fue ordenado de presbítero en Menorca (26-III-1898). Guillermo Pons Pons. La Ciudad de Dios, CCXX (Jan.-Apr., 2007), 43-57. Die Pfarrei zwischen Ekklesiologie und Gesellschaft. Historische und theologische Perspektiven auf das Werk von Constantin Noppel SJ (1883-1945). Michael Quisinsky. Freiburger Diözesan-Archiv, 126 (2006), 163-193. Un passeur de frontières: Gabriel Le Bras et l’enquête sur la pratique religieuse en France. Dominique Julia. Revue d’Histoire de l’Église de France, 92 (JulyDec., 2006), 381-413. Ezio Franceschini “profugo da Tolentino” e il progetto di edizione del Processo di canonizzazione di s. Nicola. Nicola Raponi. Aevum, LXXX (Sept.-Dec., 2006), 821-851. 758 PERIODICAL LITERATURE ‘There is No Longer Spring in Romania, It is All Propaganda’: Orthodoxy and Sovietisation, 1950-52. Lucian N. Leustean. Religion, State & Society, 35 (Mar., 2007), 43-68. Un temps pour la guerre et un temps pour la paix. Itinéraire franciscain de la seconde moitié du XX e siècle: Bertrand Duclos (1917-1995). Sylvaine Guinle-Lorinet. Annales du Midi, 118 (Oct.-Dec., 2006), 557-577. L’arcivescovo Montini e le Benedettine di Viboldone. Gabriele Archetti. Istituto Paolo VI, Notiziario n. 52 (Dec., 2006), 71-91. Le rétablissement du diaconat permanent en France (1964-1976).Bruno Dumons. Revue d’Histoire de l’Église de France, 92 (July-Dec., 2006), 415-434. Entre traduction et tradition: Philosophes, philologues et théologiens dans un débat conciliaire (1965-1970). Florian Michel. Revue d’Histoire de l’Église de France, 92 (July-Dec., 2006), 435-475. El seglar en el Sínodo Hispalense de 1973. Lourdes Sivianes Ferrera de Castro. Communio (Seville), XXXIX (July-Dec., 2006), 275-306. The Relationship between Church and State in the Post-Soviet World: The Case of Christianity in Central Asia. Sébastien Peyrouse. Journal of Church and State, 49 (Winter, 2007), 97-115. The Russian Orthodox Church and Political Party Platforms. Irini Papkova. Journal of Church and State, 49 (Winter, 2007), 117-134. American and Canadian Restoration Declensions, Divine Consolations: The Work of John Foxe in 1664 Massachusetts. Anne G. Myles. New England Quarterly, LXXX (Mar., 2007), 35-68. Satan’s War against the Covenant in Salem Village, 1692. Benjamin C. Ray. New England Quarterly, LXXX (Mar., 2007), 69-95. The “Unknown” Henry Melchior Muhlenberg. Wolfgang Splitter. Lutheran Quarterly, XXI (Spring, 2007), 78-94. “Some Expectation of Being Promoted”: Ambition,Abolition, and the Reverend James O’Kelly. J. Timothy Allen. North Carolina Historical Review, LXXXIV (Jan., 2007), 59-81. Beyond the Wall: Reinterpreting Jefferson’s Danbury Address. Johann N. Neem. Journal of the Early Republic, 27 (Spring, 2007), 139-154. American Sinner/Canadian Saint? The Further Adventures of the Notorious Stephen Burroughs, 1799-1840. J. I. Little. Journal of the Early Republic, 27 (Summer, 2007), 203-231. Cholera, Christ, and Jackson: The Epidemic of 1832 and the Origins of Christian Politics in Antebellum America. Adam Jortner. Journal of the Early Republic, 27 (Summer, 2007), 233-264. PERIODICAL LITERATURE 759 “Poverty Its Birthright”:The Beginnings of Concordia Seminary, St. Louis. Carl S. Meyer. Concordia Historical Institute Quarterly, 79 (Winter, 2006), 235257. From Emerson to Edwards. Robert Milder. New England Quarterly, LXXX (Mar., 2007), 96-133. De Sœur Marie-Achille à sœur Marie Zozime. L’usage des prénoms masculins chez les Sœurs des Saints Noms de Jésus et de Marie (1844-1969). Dominique Laperle. Revue d’Histoire de l’Amérique Française, 60 (Winter, 2007), 355-372. The Roots of the Modern Trial: Greenleaf’s Testimony to the Harmony of Christianity, Science, and the Law in Antebellum America. Daniel D. Blinka. Journal of the Early Republic, 27 (Summer, 2007), 293-334. Inventing the Catholic Worker Family. Dan McKanan. Church History, 76 (Mar., 2007), 84-113. Rembert Sorg and King of Martyrs Priory: Part II. James Flint, O.S.B. American Benedictine Review, 58 (Mar., 2007), 40-67. Damasus Winzen: A Voice for the Vernacular: Part II. Martin Shannon. American Benedictine Review, 58 (Mar., 2007), 68-87. Latin American Théologies marranes. Une configuration millénariste. Nathan Wachtel. Annales, 62 (Jan.-Feb., 2007), 69-100. A los hombres de Dios. Aproximación a un estudio de la masculinidad en Nueve España.Asunción Lavrin. Anuario Colombiano de Historia Social y de la Cultura, 31 (2004), 283-309. Misioneros franciscanos en Nueva España. Entre la hagiografía y la historia. La vida de “Los Doce” en el manuscrito 43 de la Colección Borbón-Lorenzana. Cristina Manso Martínez de Bedoya. Archivo Ibero-Americano, LXVI (Sept.Dec., 2006), 595-687. Les aldeamentos Jésuites au Brésil et l’idée moderne d’institution de la société. Carlos Alberto de M. R. Zeron. Archivum Historicum Societatis Jesu, LXXVI (Jan.-June, 2007), 39-74. Los señores de la coca y el obispado del Cuzco: la disputa en torno a los diezmos de la coca durante el siglo XVI. Paulina Numhauser. Colonial Latin American Historical Review, 13 (Summer, 2004), 287-315. La evangelización franciscana del nuevo mundo y la educación. De la “Tlacahuapahualiztli” náhualt a una pedagogía del encuentro. Fernando Gil. Nuevo Mundo, 7 (2006), 3-26. 760 PERIODICAL LITERATURE Opción por la verdad y la justicia. Cartas del Obispo Fray López de Solís al Rey (IV Centenario de su muerte). Felix Carmona Moreno. La Ciudad de Dios, CCXX (Jan.-Apr., 2007), 5-41. La plaza de San Pedro Claver de Cartagena: resumen histórico y arqueológico. Gonzalo Correal Urrego. Boletín de Historia y Antigüedades, XCIII (Oct.Dec., 2006), 821-836. Destino cultural de algunos de los bienes expropiados a los jesuitas en Santafé de Bogotá. Santiago Díaz Piedrahita. Boletín de Historia y Antigüedades, XCIII (Oct.-Dec., 2006), 799-819. On Sacred Ground: The Church and Burial Rites in Nineteenth-Century Yucatán, Mexico. Heather L. McCrea. Mexican Studies, 23 (Winter, 2007), 3362. Apontamentos sobre o presbiterianismo e educação em Sorocaba na transição do Império para a República (1869-1899). Ivanilson Bezerra da Silva. Revista Teológica, 66 (July-Dec., 2006), 37-58. A discussão política de secularização do Estado Brasileiro no século XIX. Maria de Conceição Silva. Revista Eclesiástica Brasileira, 67 (Jan., 2007), 149-170. Preparing the Soil for Global Revival: Station HCJB’s Radio Circle, 1949-59. Timothy H. B. Stoneman. Church History, 76 (Mar., 2007), 114-155. OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED Beasley, Conger, Jr. Spanish Peaks: Land and Legends. Photographs by Barbara Sparks. (Boulder: University Press of Colorado. 2006. Pp. xvi, 186; 70 b/w photographs, 1 map. $27.95 paperback.) Originally published in 2001. Bissegger,Arthur. Une paroisse raconte ses morts: L’obituaire de l’église SaintPaul à Villeneuve (XIVe–XVe siècle). (Lausanne: Cahiers Lausannois d’Histoire Médiévale. 2003. Pp. 204. Paperback.) Burrus, Virginia, and Catherine Keller (Eds.). Toward a Theology of Eros: Transfiguring Passion at the Limits of Discipline. (New York: Fordham University Press. 2007. Pp. xxi, 470. $80.00 clothbound; $28.00 paperback.) Campi, Emidio, and Joseph C. McLelland (Eds.). Commentary on Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics: Peter Martyr Vermigli. [The Peter Martyr Library, Volume Nine. Sixteenth Century Essays and Studies,Vol. LXXIII.] (Kirksville, Mo.:Truman State University Press. 2006. Pp. xxxii, 439. Clothbound.) Cassidy, Richard J. Four Times Peter: Portrayals of Peter in the Four Gospels and at Philippi. [Interfaces.] (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press. 2007. Pp. xiv, 154. $15.95 paperback.) Cooper, Kate, and Jeremy Gregory (Eds.). Elite and Popular Religion. [Studies in Church History, Vol. 42.] (Rochester, N.Y.: Boydell and Brewer. For the Ecclesiastical History Society. 2006. Pp. xiii, 441. $80.00.) Contents: Jamie Wood,“Elites and Baptism: Religious ‘Strategies of Distinction’ in Visigothic Spain” (pp. 3-17); Éamonn Ó Carragáin, “At Once Elitist and Popular: the Audiences of the Bewcastle and Ruthwell Crosses”(pp. 18-40); Claire Taylor, “Elite Reform and Popular Heresy in c. 1000:‘Revitalization Movements’ as a Model for Understanding Religious Dissidence Historically” (pp. 41-53); William J. Purkis,“Elite and Popular Perceptions of the Imitatio Christi in Twelfth-Century Crusade Spirituality” (pp. 54-64); Simon Yarrow,“Narrative, Audience and the Negotiation of Community in Twelfth-Century English Miracle Collections” (pp. 65-77); Catherine Rider, “Elite and Popular Superstitions in the Exempla of Stephen of Bourbon” (pp. 78-88); A. K. McHardy, “Superior Spirituality versus Popular Piety in Late-Medieval England” (pp. 89-98); Kathryne Beebe,“Knights, Cooks, Monks and Tourists: Elite and Popular Experience of the Late-Medieval Jerusalem Pilgrimage” (pp. 99-109); Elizabeth Freeman, “ Cistercian Nuns in Medieval England: Unofficial Meets Official” (pp. 110-119); Salvador Ryan,“The Most Traversed Bridge: a Reconsideration of Elite and Popular Religion in Late Medieval Ireland” (pp. 120-129); R. N. Swanson, “Prayer and Participation in Late 761 762 OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED Medieval England” (pp. 130-139); Eamon Duffy,“Elite and Popular Religion: the Book of Hours and Lay Piety in the Later Middle Ages” (presidential address) (pp.140-161); David D’Avray,“Popular and Elite Religion: Feastdays and Preaching” (pp. 162-179); Urszula Borkowska, OSU,“From Royal Prayer Books to Common Prayers: Religious Practices in Late Medieval and Early Modern Poland” (pp. 180-189); David Bagchi, “Poets, Peasants, and Pamphlets:Who Wrote and Who Read Reformation Flugschriften?”(pp. 189196); Patrick Preston, “Some Italian Vernacular Religious Books, their Authors and their Readers, 1543-8” (pp. 197-205); Trevor Johnson, “ ‘Everyone Should Be Like the People’: Elite and Popular Religion and the Counter Reformation” (pp. 206-224); Brian Cummings, “Martin Marprelate and the Popular Voice” (pp. 225-239); D.A. Brading, “Divine Idea and ‘Our Mother’: Elite and Popular Understanding in the Cult of Our Lady of Guadalupe of Mexico” (pp. 240-260); Peter Marshall,“Piety and Poisoning in Restoration Plymouth” (pp. 261-271); Sally Jordan,“Paternalism and Roman Catholicism: The English Catholic Elite in the Long Eighteenth Century” (pp. 272-281); Colin Hayden,“Rural Religion and the Politeness of Parsons: the Church of England in South Warwickshire, c. 1689-c. 1820” (pp. 282293);W. M. Jacob,“ ‘. . . This Congregation Here Present. . .’: Seating in Parish Churches during the Long Eighteenth Century” (pp. 294-304); Linda Kirk, “Indefinite Success: Religion and Culture in Eighteenth-Century Geneva” (pp. 305-314); Andrew Holmes, “Ulster Presbyterianism as a Popular Religious Culture, 1750-1860” (pp. 315-326); Timothy C. F. Stunt, “Elitist Leadership and Congregational Participation among Early Plymouth Brethren” (pp. 327-336); Sheridan Gilley, “Popular and Elite Religion: the Church and Devotional Control” (pp. 337-359; John Wolffe, “Elite and Popular Religion in the Religious Census of 30 March 1851” (pp. 360-371); Dermott Fenlon,“Elite and Popular Religion in the Case of Newman” (pp. 372-382); Clyde Binfield,“The Bolton Prelude to Port Sunlight: W. H. Lever (1851-1925) as Patron and Paternalist” (pp. 383-393); M. C. H. Martin,“The Romance of the Slum: Gender and Cross-Class Communication of Religious Belief, 1880-1920” (pp. 394-405); David Morgan, “Seeing Protestant Icons: the Popular Reception of Visual Media in Nineteenth- and TwentiethCentury America” (pp. 406-428); Ian Jones and Peter Webster, “Anglican ‘Establishment’ Reactions to ‘Pop’ Church Music in England, 1956-c. 1990” (pp. 429-441). Daly, Cardinal Cahal B. Philosophical Papers. (Dublin: Four Courts Press. Distributed in the United States by ISBS, Portland, Ore. 2007. Pp. xi, 636. $60.00.) Dempsey, Carol J., O.P. Jeremiah: Preacher of Grace, Poet of Truth. [Interfaces.] (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press. 2007. Pp. xxxii, 124. $15.95 paperback.) Ditewig, William T. The Deacon at Mass: A Theological and Pastoral Guide. (New York and Mahwah, N.J.: Paulist Press. 2007. Pp. xiv, 100. $14.95 paperback.) OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED 763 Foley, Thomas W. Father Francis M. Craft: Missionary to the Sioux. (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. 2007. Pp. xviii, 195. $17.95 paperback.) First published in 2002 and reviewed by Harvey Markowitz ante, LXXXIX (July, 2003), 566-567. Frost, Michael. Exiles: Living Missionally in a Post-Christian Culture. (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson Publishers. 2006. Pp. x, 327. $19.95 paperback.) Garrido Gallardo, Miguel Ángel. La Musa de la Retórica: Problemas y Métodos de la Ciencia de la Literatura. [Biblioteca de Filología Hispánica.] (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas. 1994. Pp. 284. Paperback.) Gowler, David B. What Are They Saying About the Historical Jesus? (New York and Mahwah, N.J.: Paulist Press. 2007. Pp. x, 190. $14.95 paperback.) Hogan, Martin J. The Shamrock Battalion in the Great War. Edited by James J. Cooke. (Columbia and London: University of Missouri Press. 2007. Pp. x, 132. $24.95 clothbound.) Lackner, Franz (Ed.), with the collaboration of Natasha Golob,Alois Haidinger and Maria Stieglecker. Katalog der mittelalterlichen Handschriften bis zum Ende des 16. Jahrhunderts in der Zentralbibliothek der Wiener Franziskanerprovinz in Graz. [Veröffentlichungen der Kommission für Schrift- und Buchwesen des Mittelalters, Reihe II, Band 9.] (Vienna: Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften. 2006. Pp. 221, XXIV plates. €71,80 paperback.) Mannion, Gerard. Ecclesiology and Postmodernity: Questions for the Church in Our Time. (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press. 2007. Pp. xvii, 249. $29.95 paperback.) Mathis, Deborah. What God Can Do: How Faith Changes Lives for the Better. (New York:Atria Books,Adult Division of Simon and Schuster, Inc. 2007. Pp. x, 230. $14.00 paperback. ) McCall, Richard D. Do This: Liturgy as Performance. (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press. 2007. Pp. vi, 196. $28.00 paperback.) McLean, Edward B. (Ed.). The Inner Vision: Liberty and Literature. (Wilmington, Del.: Intercollegiate Studies Institute, Inc. 2007. Pp. viii, 156. $17.00 paperback.) Miller, Monica Migliorino. Sexuality and Authority in the Catholic Church. (Scranton:University of Scranton Press.2006.Pp.xxi,286.$28.00 paperback.) Quinones, Sam. Antonio’s Gun and Delfino’s Dream: True Tales of Mexican Migration. (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. 2007. Pp. viii, 318. $24.95.) Shinners, John (Ed.). Medieval Popular Religion, 1000-1500: A Reader. Second edition. [Readings in Medieval Civilizations and Cultures: II.] (Peterborough, Ontario, and New York: Broadview Press. 2006. Pp. xxii, 556. $34.95 paperback.) Originally published in 1997 and reviewed by Thomas 764 OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED F. Head ante, LXXXIV (January, 1998), 77-79. In this second edition the editor has added some texts and substituted some that “more richly evoke the sensibility of medieval religion than those they replace.” He has also improved the translations and introductions, increased the bracketed notes of explanation, and added reading questions at the end of most documents. Sierra, Javier. The Lady in Blue. A Novel. (New York:Atria Books,Adult Division of Simon and Schuster, Inc. 2007. Pp. xii, 353. $25.95.) Stelzmann, Rainulf A. Thinking of Germany at Night: A Personal View of the Years 1927 to 1956. (Baltimore:America House Book Publishers. 2001. Pp. 294. $24.95 paperback.)