The Catholic Historical
Review
VOL. XCVII

JANUARY, 2011

No. 1

MARTYRDOM AND THE MUSLIM WORLD
THROUGH FRANCISCAN EYES
BY

CHRISTOPHER MACEVITT*

Beginning in 1220, groups of Franciscan friars traveled to Muslim
lands, where they testified to the truth of Christian preaching and
denounced the lies of Muhammad and Islam. In doing so, the friars
intentionally broke Islamic law and were executed. The friars were
proclaimed as martyrs, and the stories that preserve their memory
valorized the desire for martyrdom rather than the successful conversion of Muslims, serving to emphasize the distinction between
the Christian and Muslim worlds.
Keywords: conversion; Franciscans; Islam; martyrdom; missions to
Muslims
The third-century North African theologian Tertullian (c. 160–c.
220) told Roman persecutors that they tortured and killed Christians
in vain, for “blood is the seed of the Christians.”1 In some sense,
*Dr. MacEvitt is associate professor in the Department of Religion at Dartmouth
College.The author would to thank the following people for their insightful comments
on this article: Kim Bowes, Cecilia Gaposchkin, Kevin Uhalde, John Zaleski, the members of the Second Book Group at Dartmouth College, and the two anonymous reviewers for The Catholic Historical Review. Versions of this article were presented at the
“Remembering the Crusades” conference at Fordham University in March 2008 and the
Sewanee Medieval Colloquium in April 2008.
1
Tertullian,“Apologeticum,” in Quinti Septimi Florentis Tertulliani Opera, I: 50, 13,
[Corpus Christianorum Series Latina] (Turnhout, 1954), p. 171. Tertullian’s claim
“semen est sanguis Christianorum” soon became “sanguis martyrum semen
Christianorum.” For a brief history of the adaptation of Tertullian’s aphorism, see
William S.Walsh, Handy-Book of Literary Curiosities (Philadelphia, 1893), p. 693.

1

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MARTYRDOM AND THE MUSLIM WORLD THROUGH FRANCISCAN EYES

Tertullian was right. The blood of the Roman martyrs—preserved as
relics, commemorated in shrines, and recalled through stories—nourished the Church into the medieval age and beyond. The landscape of
western Europe bubbled with the cult of bishops, soldiers, teenagers,
men, women, and children who died in spectacular acts of defiance
and glory. In the thirteenth century, the blood of the martyrs flowed
once more, as bands of Franciscans crossed deserts and seas to
receive the crown of martyrdom at the hands of the “Saracens.” For
Franciscans as much as for Tertullian, martyrdom was not only a way
to ascribe meaning to death suffered through religious persecution
but also a way to ascribe meaning to the world around the martyr.
Witnessing, suffering, and dying only became acts of religious heroism
through a series of interpretive acts, which cast the actors, constructed the scenery, and provided a script.2 The accounts of
Franciscan martyrdom in the fourteenth century provided western
Europeans with a new way to understand the place that “Saracens”
and partes infidelium occupied in their world. The martyrdoms
occurred in locations largely on the periphery of the Islamic world,
and the narratives that recounted them showed particular interest in
the religiously mixed nature of communities under Islamic rule.3 But
the faith of the martyrs, displayed through their stalwart refusal of
worldly honors and their embrace of bodily pain and death, neither
converted Muslims nor emboldened local Christians in their faith. The
blood of the Franciscans did not become “the seeds of the Christians”
in Muslim lands; instead, the suffering and death of the friars tested
the boundaries between the Christian and Muslim worlds, and suggested that they were impermeable, crossed only to strengthen further the separation between them.4 Although the pious might preach
and martyrs might amaze with miracles, Islam was an institution

2
See Elizabeth Castelli, Martyrdom and Memory (New York, 2004), for a discussion
of this dynamic in early Christian experience and memory making. See also Lucy Grigg,
Making Martyrs in Late Antiquity (London, 2004).
3
There are a few exceptions to this in the principal source, the Chronica XXIV generalium ministrorum ordinis fratrum minorum: Franciscans died in Georgia, killed
by Orthodox Christians (undated); a single friar in Damietta (undated); an English friar
in Persia (c. 1334); two in Livonia (c. 1342); Livinus in Egypt (1345); John of
Montepulciano; and Nicolaus of Montecorvino and Francis of Terra Laboris in “Cadro”
(perhaps Cairo, 1345).
4
Again, a notable exception is the account of Blessed Thomas of Tolentino, who died
in Tana, a town in India near Bombay, in 1321.The passio of Thomas and his companions deserve their own consideration, which the author hopes to provide in another
article.

BY CHRISTOPHER MACEVITT

3

bolted to the bedrock of the world and proved impervious to
Christian conversion or transformation.5
Contemporary sources about the earliest Franciscan martyrs are
limited.The first martyrs were five friars who died in Morocco in 1220;
they first were mentioned in the vita of St. Anthony of Padua,6 which
probably was written shortly after Anthony’s canonization in 1232. But
Anthony’s hagiographer only mentioned their deaths and a few identifying characteristics; he did not provide a narrative of their martyrdom.
The Franciscan chronicler Jordan of Giano (bef. 1195–c. 1262) gave the
number of friars who died and recorded an anecdote in which their
passiones were read to St. Francis, but he gave neither their names nor
any account of their deeds.7 St. Clare of Assisi knew of the martyrs of
Morocco as well and saw the martyrs as embodying the Franciscan
virtues she wished to imitate.8 Other thirteenth-century Franciscan
martyrs appear in textual sources many decades after their deaths.The
two friars martyred in Valencia in 1231 were first mentioned only in
1335.9 Although accounts of the martyrs, in either written or oral form,
were clearly circulating in Franciscan communities in the mid-thirteenth century, those early accounts have not survived to the present
day.10 Most of the thirteenth-century references to the early martyrs
come from hagiographic material about other Franciscan saints and
5
The accounts were composed in a variety of circumstances, and at varying
chronological and geographical distance from the events. In this article the author
attempts to delineate the common features of the martyrdoms; as in any attempt to generalize, some accounts stand outside those parameters.
6
Léon de Kerval, ed., Sancti Antonii de Padua vitae duae quarum altera
hucusque inedita (Paris, 1904), pp. 29–30. Anthony himself desired to travel to Saracen
lands and to be martyred, but as with Francis, God had other plans. Kerval, Sancti
Antonii vitae, p. 33.
7
Jordan of Giano, Chronica fratris Jordani, ed. H. Boehmer (Paris, 1908), p. 7.
8
P. Zeffirino Lazzieri,“Il processo di canonizzazione di S. Chiara d’Assisi,” Archivium
Franciscanum Historicum, 13 (1920), 401–507, here 465.
9
Leonard Lemmens, ed., Fragmenta Minora: Catalogus sanctorum fratrum minorum (Rome, 1903), p. 43; León Amorós Payá,“Los santos martires Franciscanos B. Juan
de Perusa y B. Pedro de Saxoferrato en la historia de Teruel,” Teruel, 15–16 (1956),
7–142, here 18–19.
10
For more on the Moroccan martyrs, see Isabelle Heullant-Donat, “La perception
des premiers martyrs franciscains à l’intéreur de l’Ordre au XIIIe siècle,” in Religion et
mentalités au moyen age: mélanges en l’honneur d’Hervé Martin, ed. Sophie
Cassagnes-Brouquet, Amaury Chauou, Daniel Pichot, and Lionel Rousselot (Rennes,
2003), pp. 211–20; James D. Ryan, “Missionary Saints of the High Middle Ages:
Martyrdom, Popular Veneration, and Canonization,” The Catholic Historical Review, 90
(2004), 1–28.

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MARTYRDOM AND THE MUSLIM WORLD THROUGH FRANCISCAN EYES

served to illustrate their unfulfilled desire for martyrdom, a common
hagiographical trope. The martyrs were convenient to point out the
sanctity of Clare and Anthony, but, in the eyes of those in the thirteenth
century, lacked widespread interest on their own.
Once written down, the accounts of Franciscan martyrs appeared
in collected passiones, as well as in the late-fourteenth-century
Franciscan account, the Chronica XXIV generalium ministrorum
ordinis fratrum minorum.11 The chronicle, possibly written by
Arnald of Sarrant, the minister of Aquitaine (c. 1361–c. 1383), is an
account of Franciscan history, structured through the terms of the
ministers-general of the order. The lives of the martyrs and other holy
figures from the Franciscan tradition served as an equally important
structuring counterpoint to the institutional framework of the ministers. Some passiones were also collected separately as an appendix at
the end of many of the manuscripts.12 Some of the accounts in the
Chronica are similar to earlier narratives; one example is the martyrdom of Monald of Ancona and his fellow friars in Armenia in 1314.
The account in the chronicle has a clear relationship with the account
given in the British Library manuscript from earlier in the fourteenth
century.13 In other cases, the relationship is not as clear. Further work
needs to be done to establish the textual relationships among various
accounts.
The sources about the martyrs provoke a number of questions.
Some pertain to the martyrs themselves.Why did Franciscans choose
to leave Christian lands to die at the hands of Muslims? What ideology
supported and encouraged such behavior, and how did those who
died and the communities from which they sprang understand their
actions? Others pertain to the communities that perpetuated their
11
“Chronica XXIV generalium ordinis minorum,” Analecta Franciscana, 3
(Quaracchi, 1898), hereafter cited as “Chronica XXIV generalium.”All translations are my
own, but I have consulted Noel Muscat’s translation of the first section of the chronicle. Arnald of Sarrant, Chronicle of the Twenty-Four Generals of the Order of Friars
Minor, trans. Noel Muscat, O.F.M. (Malta, 2007), <http://www.ofm.org.mt/noelmuscat/
texts/Chron_24_Min_Gen_OFM.pdf>. See Maria Teresa Dolso for a critical appraisal: La
Chronica XXIV Generalium: Il difficile percorso dell’unità nella storia francescana
(Padua, 2003).
12
Maria Teresa Dolso, “I manoscritti della Chronica XXIV Generalium Ordinis
Minorum,” Franciscana, 6 (2004), 185–261. For other martyr texts, see Girolamo
Golubovich, Biblioteca Bio-Bibliografica della Terra Santa e dell’Oriente francescano
(Quaracchi, 1913), 5 vols.
13
“Chronica XXIV,” pp. 412–45; London, British Lib., Cotton Nero A IX, fols. 96v–98v.

BY CHRISTOPHER MACEVITT

5

memories: How and why were the dead commemorated as martyrs,
and what did the stories of their martyrdoms mean to the communities that wrote, read, and copied them? Although these questions may
seem inseparable, they address two different moments. The practice
of traveling to infidel lands and dying there began in 1220 and continued into the early-modern era. Detailed accounts of the martyrs’
suffering and deaths did not appear until the fourteenth century (at
least in surviving manuscripts) and particularly were interested in
telling stories about three groups of martyrs—those who died in
Morocco (1220),Armenia (1314), and India (1321).14 Thus, a gap of a
century separated the first martyrs and the development of the narratives about them. This gap, together with the general difficulty of
uncovering primary historical experiences reshaped through narrative and genre expectations, makes the questions about the martyrs
themselves difficult to answer.This essay will focus instead on the representation of the martyrs within fourteenth-century material.
Why did the gap between martyrdom and narrative exist? Whereas
western Christians confronted Islam through a number of different
endeavors in the thirteenth century—crusade, preaching, theological
disputation—fourteenth-century Christians saw those same endeavors as failed or blocked. Planned crusades never departed, and
decades of preaching and argument had failed to convert significant
numbers of Muslims. Martyrdom, in contrast, was a story in which one
cannot fail. Furthermore, the stories of the martyrs particularly
appealed to their fourteenth-century brethren because they could
help unify a Franciscan order shattered by the struggles between the
Conventuals and the Spirituals. The martyrs articulated a vision of
Franciscan spirituality that transcended those differences.
The Franciscan passion for martyrdom and obsession with the
Muslim world famously began with Francis himself. Thomas of
Celano, his first hagiographer, recorded that in 1212 “Francis wished
to take a ship to the region of Syria to preach the Christian faith and
repentance to the Saracens and other non-believers,” but contrary
14
The artistic representation of Franciscan martyrs, which also began in the fourteenth century, falls outside the scope of this essay. For more, see S. Maureen Burke,
“The ‘Martyrdom of the Franciscans’ by Ambrogio Lorenzetti,” Zeitschrift für
Kunstgeschichte, 65, no. 4 (2002), 460–92; Christophe Chabloz, “Les Cinque Maritiri
francescani del Marocco à San Lorenzo Maggiore de Naples: tentative de décryptage
d’un choix iconographique inhabituel,” Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte, 71 (2008),
321–34.

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MARTYRDOM AND THE MUSLIM WORLD THROUGH FRANCISCAN EYES

winds forced him ashore in Slavonia. Still driven by “the burning
desire for martyrdom,” he later traveled toward Morocco, hoping “to
preach the gospel of Christ to the Miramolin and his retinue,”15 but illness forced him to end his journey in Christian Spain. Finally he
accompanied the Fifth Crusade to Egypt and preached to al-Malik alKamil, the Ayyubid sultan.16 Francis neither converted the sultan nor
achieved martyrdom, but by the fourteenth century, many believed
that the sultan had secretly converted and understood the stigmata
Francis later suffered to be a superior form of martyrdom.17 Although
Francis certainly sought to convert infidels, the trope of the saint
desiring martyrdom dates back to St. Anthony of Alexandria, the father
of monasticism, and thus whether Francis himself desired martyrdom
or whether Thomas of Celano used this to accentuate his humility and
sanctity, remains an open question.18
Francis’s opinions on conversion and martyrdom did survive in the
first preserved rule written for the order, the Regula non bullata
(sometimes called the Regula prima), composed in 1221 as a successor to the first, now-lost rule. Chapter 16 covered the subject of “those
going among the Saracens and other non-believers” and offered two

15
Thomas de Celano, “Vita Prima Sancti Francisci,” Analecta Franciscana, 10
(Quaracchi, 1928), p. 42; trans. from Thomas of Celano, “The Life of Saint Francis,” in
Francis of Assisi: The Early Documents, vol. I, The Saint, ed. Regis Armstrong, J. A.
Wayne Hellmann, and William J. Short (New York, 1999), p. 229.
16
The question of Francis’s motivation in going to Egypt has been widely debated,
particularly on the point of whether Francis was in sympathy with, or in opposition to,
the crusade itself. See Benjamin Kedar, Crusade and Mission (Princeton, 1984), pp.
116–31; Christoph Maier, Preaching the Crusades: Mendicant Friars and the Cross in
the Thirteenth Century (Cambridge, UK, 1994), pp. 9–17; Adam L. Hoose, “Francis of
Assisi’s Way of Peace? His Conversion and Mission to Egypt,” The Catholic Historical
Review, 96 (2010), 449–69; and James M. Powell,“St. Francis of Assisi’s Way of Peace,”
Medieval Encounters, 13 (2007), 271–80 (spec. issue “Crusades and Interfaith
Relations,” ed. Michael Lower). Powell made a similar argument in “Francesco d’Assisi e
la Quinta Crociata: Una missione di pace,” Schede Medievali, 4 (1983), 67–77. John
Tolan has examined the numerous textual and visual depictions of this meeting from
the thirteenth century to the present in Saint Francis and the Sultan: The Curious
History of a Christian-Muslim Encounter (New York, 2009).
17
Tolan, Saint Francis and the Sultan, pp. 162–70.
18
For more on the desire for martyrdom in Franciscan thought, see Daniel Randolph,
“The Desire for Martyrdom: A Leitmotiv of St. Bonaventure,” Franciscan Studies, 32
(1972), 74–87. Likewise, the Franciscan liturgy devoted to St. Louis, king of France,
lauded him as a martyr by desire. See M. Cecilia Gaposchkin, The Making of St. Louis:
Kingship, Sanctity, and Crusade in Late Medieval France (Ithaca, NY, 2008), pp.
169–75.

BY CHRISTOPHER MACEVITT

7

possible ways of approaching such a mission.“One way,” the rule counseled,“is not to engage in arguments or disputes but to be subject to
every human creature for God’s sake (1 Pet 2:13) and to acknowledge that they are Christians.”19 The brothers who felt called to witness to the Muslims should truly be minores and convince Muslims of
the superiority of Christianity, not through preaching or speech, but
through the humble mien appropriate to those who serve a humble
and crucified God.20 The rule outlined a second way for the friars as
well:“to announce the Word of God, when they see it pleases the Lord,
in order that [unbelievers] may believe in almighty God, the Father, the
Son and the Holy Spirit . . . and be baptized and become Christians.” No
matter which approach the friars may take or where they may be,
Francis reminded them that “they have given themselves and abandoned their bodies to the Lord Jesus Christ. For love of Him, they must
make themselves vulnerable to their enemies, both visible and invisible.”21 The Regula non bullata, however, was not the official rule of
the order, as its title suggests. Under pressure from his own order as
well as the pope and the cardinal-protector, Francis wrote a new rule
for the order, which was shorter, more legalistic, less lyrical, and shorn
of its many biblical quotations. This rule gave the friars no direction on
how to conduct missions to the “infidel”; it only mandated that they
receive permission from their superiors before going.22
By including an entire section in both rules devoted to it, Francis
made clear that he saw the mission to the infidels as a fundamental
part of the Franciscan calling and sought to ensure that his brothers
shared his values. Yet what the mission to the infidels signified to
Francis and other early friars is far from clear. The two paths laid out
by the Regula non bullata were strikingly different conceptions of
what the Franciscan mission was and what it should achieve; yet both
19
“Regula non bullata,” in Opuscula Sancti Patris Francisci Assisiensis, ed. Katejan
Asser (Grottaferrata, 1978), p. 268; trans. from “The Earlier Rule,” in Armstrong, Hellmann, and Short, eds., The Saint, p. 74, emphasis in original.
20
Michael F. Cusato refers to this as “renunciation of power.”“The Renunciation of
Power as a Foundational Theme in Early Franciscan History,” in The Propagation of
Power in the Medieval West: Select Proceedings of the International Conference,
Groningen 20–23 November 1996, ed. Martin Gosman, Arjo Vanderjagt, and Jan
Veenstra (Groningen, 1997), pp. 265–86.
21
“Regula non bullata,” pp. 269–71; trans. in “The Earlier Rule,” in Armstrong,
Hellmann, and Short, eds., The Saint, pp. 74–75.
22
“Regula bullata,” in Opuscula Sancti Patris Francisci Assisiensis, ed. Katejan Asser
(Grottaferrata, 1978), pp. 237–38; trans. from “The Later Rule” in Armstrong, Hellmann,
and Short, eds., The Saint, p. 106.

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MARTYRDOM AND THE MUSLIM WORLD THROUGH FRANCISCAN EYES

paths, through action or ideology, led the friar to martyrdom.23 The
first path, the path of patient endurance and humility, most clearly
exemplified Francis’s values; elsewhere in the rule Francis urged the
friars to call friends “those who unjustly inflict upon us distress and
anguish, shame and injury, sorrow and punishment, martyrdom and
death.”24 Although the rule did not encourage martyrdom directly, it
encouraged a disregard for the fate of the body and a reciprocal elevation of the values of humility and subordination, which we might
consider the psychosocial building blocks of the martyr’s perspective.
The second path placed conversion at the center of the friars’ activities—infidels must hear the word of God to be saved—but exposed
the friars to the greatest possibility of being martyred. Encouraging
Muslims to abandon their faith was a capital offense under Islamic
law; denigrating Islam and its prophets (sabb) was equally so.25 Yet
Francis himself followed this approach and lived. The second path
was the one chosen by the martyrs commemorated by the order, but
as will be discussed, their motivation was, according to their hagiographers, the desire for martyrdom rather than conversion of the
Saracens.
Whatever the motivation and ideals of Francis and those who died,
their learned brothers drew on an ancient tradition when they told
the stories of the Franciscan martyrs. Martyrdom developed in a
world where Christians and pagans shared a language filled with contested symbols and meanings. Stories about martyrdom took values
central to Roman identity—such as religious sacrifice and the values
of the arena—and subverted them. The death of the condemned
Roman criminal became the birth of the Christian martyr into eternal
life, the humiliation of public execution became glory, and painful torture became the guarantee of sweet salvation. Martyrs were made,
however, not through persecution and death in the arena, but through
the commemoration of their deaths by the communities they left
behind. Although the stories of the Roman martyrs differed in detail
and form, they understood the actions of the martyr within a common
cosmological framework, depicting the death of the martyr as a vic23
For the ideology of Franciscan missions in general, see E. Randolph Daniel, The
Franciscan Concept of Mission in the High Middle Ages (Lexington, KY, 1975).
24
“Regula non bullata,” p. 279; trans. in “The Earlier Rule,” in Armstrong, Hellmann,
and Short, eds., The Saint, p. 79.
25
Lutz Wiederhold, “Shatm,” Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., ed. P. Bearman, Th.
Bianquis, C. E. Bosworth, E. van Donzel and W. P. Heinrichs (Leiden, 2008). Brill Online.
<http://www.brillonline.nl/subscriber/entry?entry=islam_SIM-8898>.

BY CHRISTOPHER MACEVITT

9

tory over demons, a willing sacrifice for the salvation of God’s people,
and an elevation of the martyr to a “friend of God” and a protector of
the community who perpetuated the martyr’s memory (and venerated the martyr’s tomb and/or relics) on earth. The martyrs were
God’s chosen ones, and as such they dwelt simultaneously at his side
and on earth, and manifested divine power in the earthly realm
through miracles.
Martyrdom came to represent different values as Christian communities under the rule of the new Islamic empire began to venerate
Christians who had died at the command of Muslim judges. “Neomartyrs,” as such Christians are sometimes called, did not die as a part
of systematic persecution by the ruling authorities, but as a result of
their direct confrontation with the dominant authority.26 In some
cases, the martyrs were Muslims who had converted to Christianity,
an act that contravened Islamic law. In others, however, they were
Christians executed for insulting the prophet Muhammad, such as
Peter of Capitolias, a Melkite (Greek Orthodox) priest who was executed in 715,27 or the forty-eight martyrs of Cordoba, who between
851 and 860 were executed for breaking Islamic law in the same
way.28 The miraculous content of the neo-martyrdoms was considerably less than those in Roman martyrdom accounts; some martyrs
received visions that inspired them, and a few enjoyed miraculous
protection, but the glory of the martyrs shone brightest through
their stalwart example of fidelity to Christianity, not in the joyous
miraculous outpouring that healed the faithful and converted pagan
26
Sidney Griffith,“Christians, Muslims, and Neo-Martyrs: Saints’ Lives and Holy Land
History,” in Sharing the Sacred: Contacts and Conflicts in the Holy Land, FirstFifteenth Centuries CE, ed. Arieh Kofsky and Guy G. Strousma (Jerusalem, 1998), pp.
163–207; Leslie S. B. MacCoull, “Notes on the Martyrdom of John of Phanijoit (BHO
519),” Medieval Encounters, 6 (2000), 58–79; Febe Armanios and Boğ aç Ergene, “A
Christian Martyr under Mamluk Justice: The Trials of Salib (d. 1512) according to
Muslim and Coptic Sources,” Muslim World, 96 (2006), 115–44.
27
This life has been preserved only in a Georgian translation, but a short version of
Peter’s life also appeared in the chronicle of Theophanes, Chronographia, ed. Carolus
de Boor (1883; Hildesheim, 1963), I:416–17; trans. in The Chronicle of Theophanes the
Confessor, trans. Cyril Mango and Roger Scott (Oxford, 1997), 1:577–78. See also
Griffith,“Neo-Martyrs.”
28
Kenneth Baxter Wolf, Christian Martyrs in Muslim Spain (Cambridge, UK, 1988);
Jessica A. Coope, The Martyrs of Córdoba: Community and Family Conflict in an Age
of Mass Conversion (Lincoln, NE, 1995).The parallels between the Franciscans and the
Cordobans have been noted by Allan Cutler, “The Ninth-Century Spanish Martyrs’
Movement and the Origins of Western Christian Missions to the Muslims,” Muslim
World, 55 (1969), 321–39.

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MARTYRDOM AND THE MUSLIM WORLD THROUGH FRANCISCAN EYES

onlookers in Roman accounts. The martyr was no longer a conduit of
divine power, a being who transcended the division between heaven
and earth, but a hero whose fortitude embodied the determined
resistance of the Christian community to the dark power of this
world. The only escape lay in the hope of the bright eternal paradise
of the hereafter.
As Franciscans in convents throughout Europe copied and
recopied the stories of their own martyrs, they had, both in their
memory and on the page, the stories of the countless Christian martyrs who had preceded their brothers, and thus the Franciscan martyrs of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries were crafted as heirs
to both the Roman and neo-martyrological traditions. Although the
stories of the neo-martyrs were rare in Latin Christian libraries, the
Franciscan passiones show clear similarities to those narratives, in
part because they were relying on the same textual sources for their
knowledge of Islam, which in turn conditioned the values assigned to
martyrdom suffered under its authority.29
The Franciscan narratives were distinct from earlier martyrological
traditions in one important facet; they described the martyrs as traveling long distances to the places where they died, while their memories were consequently preserved in their lands of origin, rather than
on the spot. Not only did the martyrs die distant from their communities, they also died in a different cultural, political, and religious setting from the one with which they were familiar. Earlier stories commemorated martyrs who died in the midst of the commemorating
community. The Franciscans, in contrast, preserved the memories of
their confreres who died far away and among people who forgot
them; likewise, the friars at home had neither lived under the infidel
rulers who had killed the martyrs nor witnessed their sufferings and
deaths. The physical and cultural distance between the place where
the friars died and the place where their memory was maintained
transformed the dialectical relationship between minority community
and dominant authority that characterized martyrdoms past. Unlike
the narratives of Roman martyrdom or of Christians under Islamic
rule, the Franciscan narratives were not confronting an authority
whose values and ideology they knew intimately. Rather, the martyrs
and their narrators were confronting an Islam constructed in the histories, chronicles, and sermons in Europe, rather than one they knew
29

John Tolan, Saracens (New York, 2002), pp. 69–169.

BY CHRISTOPHER MACEVITT

11

through a lifetime of experience. The friars, in this sense, never left
the bounds of Europe, although they crossed territorial boundaries.
Although Francis may have failed to be martyred or may not have
desired it at all, his friars craved it and often achieved it. Franciscan
chronicles and martyrologies supply a long list of martyrs:30 Five
friars were martyred in Morocco in 1220, seven more died in
Morocco seven years later,31 two were beheaded in Muslim-ruled
Valencia in 1231, several groups died during the Mamluk conquest of
Palestine and Syria in the late-thirteenth century, four died near
Bombay in India in 1321, and two more died in Granada in 1397.32
Some accounts can be quite detailed and long; others are just brief
notices. The stories, unsurprisingly, conformed to a similar narrative
pattern. The friars died only in groups, perhaps as a way to bolster
their commitment to the goal of martyrdom.Although the narratives
sometimes referenced the desire to preach and convert infidels as
motivation for the martyrs’ journey, the friars’ actions focused overwhelmingly on achieving martyrdom rather than on successful
preaching.33 In conversation with Urraca, the queen of Portugal, the
five Franciscans on their way to Morocco in 1220 serenely told her,
“we will die for the faith of Christ soon.”34 The seven friars who followed them in 1227 “were burning with desire for martyrdom,”35
30
For more on Franciscan martyrs and medieval martyrs in general, see Miri Rubin,
“Choosing Death: Experiences of Martyrdom in Late Medieval Europe,” in Martyrs and
Martyrology: Papers Read at the 1992 Summer Meeting and the 1993 Winter Meeting
of the Ecclesiastical History Society, ed. Diana Wood (Oxford, 1993), pp. 153–83; Ryan,
“Missionary Saints of the High Middle Ages,” pp. 1–28; Robert I. Burns, S.J., “ChristianIslamic Confrontation in the West: The Thirteenth-Century Dream of Conversion,”
American Historical Review, 76 (1971), 1386–1434; Caroline Smith, “Martyrdom and
Crusading in the Thirteenth Century: Remembering the Dead of Louis IX’s Crusades,”
Al-Masaq, 15 (2003), 189–96.
31
Ippolito Fortino, I Martiri di Ceuta:Alle origini del francescanesimo in Calabria
(Soveria Mannelli, 2006).
32
Dario Cabanelas,“Dos mártires franciscanos en la Granada nazarí: Juan de Cetina y
Pedro de Dueñas,” Estudios de historia y de arqueología medievales, 5–6 (1985),
159–75.
33
For a discussion of Franciscan motivation in missions to Central Asia, see James D.
Ryan, “Conversion or the Crown of Martyrdom: Conflicting Goals for FourteenthCentury Missionaries in Central Asia?”, in Medieval Cultures in Contact, ed. Richard F.
Gyug (New York, 2003), pp. 19–38; James D. Ryan,“Conversion vs. Baptism? European
Missionaries in Asia in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries,” in Varieties of
Religious Conversion in the Middle Ages, ed. James Muldoon (Gainesville, FL, 1997),
pp. 146–67.
34
“Chronica XXIV generalium,” p. 16.
35
“Chronica XXIV generalium,” p. 32.

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MARTYRDOM AND THE MUSLIM WORLD THROUGH FRANCISCAN EYES

while the three Franciscans killed in Armenia in 1314 similarly “were
spurred on by passion for martyrdom.”36 The narrative scheme was
clear. After arriving in a Muslim-ruled city, the friars preached at the
main mosque (or some other prominent public location) that salvation was only possible through Jesus Christ and denounced the lies
of the prophet Muhammad and his “demonic faith.” The condemnation of Muhammad angered the listening “Saracens”; the local authorities debated how to handle the friars, and often the brothers
received some sort of lesser punishment—expulsion, imprisonment,
or a flogging. The friars, however, persisted in their preaching and
their insults, and in response the Islamic authorities sentenced them
to death, usually by beheading.
The image of Muslims and Islamic authority did conform to older
martyrological tropes about the persecutor in some ways. When the
martyrs of 1220 approached the main mosque in Seville, the Muslims
there “did not allow them to enter the mosque, attacking them with
yelling, blows and whips.”37 When the friars twice insulted
Muhammad before the king of Morocco,“the king, fired up with anger,
took a sword . . . and one after another chopped their heads off.”38
Those who served the king were denounced as “diabolical ministers.”39 The emphasis on the violent emotions of the Saracens contrasted with the calm demeanor of the saints and echoed the long
martyrological tradition of the raging demonic tyrant who turns
against both God and pious Christians.
Yet unlike some other late-medieval Christian accounts,40 the passiones did not sensationalize Islam or Muslims.41 Despite the temptation to make the Muslim persecutors conform to genre expectations,
the accounts did not describe the Muslims as idolaters and were careful to show the Muslims as following their own legal traditions in handling the friars. The Franciscan author of the fourteenth-century
Chronica XXIV generalium ministrorum ordinis fratrum mino36

“Chronica XXIV generalium,” p. 412.
“Chronica XXIV generalium,” p. 17.
38
“Chronica XXIV generalium,” p. 19.
39
“Chronica XXIV generalium,” p. 18.
40
Bernard Hamilton, “Knowing the Enemy: Western Understanding of Islam at the
Time of the Crusades,” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and
Ireland, ser. 3, 7 (1997), 373–87.
41
Tolan, in contrast, argues that “thirteenth-century Franciscan writers show little
knowledge of Islam; for them, as for the missionaries themselves, knowing the nature
of the Saracen error was of little use.” Saracens, p. 220.
37

BY CHRISTOPHER MACEVITT

13

rum knew that “the Saracens freely heard the friars preach concerning the faith of Christ and the teaching of the Gospel, but spoke
against them when they preached that Machomet was plainly a liar
and dishonest in his preaching.”42 When the martyrs of Ceuta (1227)
were arrested,
one by one they were summoned to the council of the Saracens. First they
were examined, and they spoke against their [the Saracens’] law and
against Machomet. [The Saracens] wanted to persuade [them] to become
Saracens by denying the faith, promising them great prosperity, if they
might do it; if not, they knew they would be punished with death.43

This contrasted with the treatment of the few Franciscan martyrs
who died at the hands of non-Muslims. For the most part, they were
labeled pagani or heretici, their specific beliefs or communities unimportant; they simply attacked and killed the martyrs, without bothering with the drawn-out legal niceties of the Muslims.44
The Franciscan sources were not interested in Islam as it pertained
to individuals or to a community, but Islam as it occupied and saracenized space. In the language of the narratives, the friars begin in territory populated by Christians and ruled by Christian princes, and
travel to partes infidelium.Yet partes infidelium and fidelium were
not mirror images of each other; crossing from one to the other did
not bring the friars from a totally Christian world into a totally Muslim
one. Rather, they found Muslim rulers and a mixed population of
Muslims and Christians. The narratives showed particular interest in
the reaction of resident Christians to the martyrs, but downplayed the
reactions of Muslims, whose conversions were their ostensible goal.
The martyrologies were not concerned with trying to separate
Muslim individuals or communities from Christian ones; rather, they
were grappling with a medieval version of the concept of “Islamdom.”
Were the Christians who dwelt in Islamic lands a part of Christendom
or Islamdom? In some cases, the Christians were indigenous; in
others, they were merchants from Venice, Genoa, and elsewhere in
Latin Europe. No matter their origin, in Franciscan eyes their contact
with Islam made their identity suspect.The focus on the diversity of
42
“Chronica XXIV generalium,” p. 23.This is a word-for-word quote from Jacques de
Vitry, Historia Occidentalis, ed. John Frederick Hinnebusch, O.P. (Fribourg, 1972),
chap. 32, p. 162.
43
“Chronica XXIV generalium,” p. 33.
44
See, for example, the account of the martyrdom of Conrad of Saxony and Stephen
of Hungary in Georgia.“Chronica XXIV generalium,” pp. 417–18.

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MARTYRDOM AND THE MUSLIM WORLD THROUGH FRANCISCAN EYES

Islamic society produced a sense of the unity of Christian society, if
only implicitly. Whereas western Europe was in fact home to a variety
of different religious communities, the passiones imagine Europe
solely as partes fidelium—the home of the faithful. The narratives
return to this textual cartography repeatedly, for it encapsulates the
anxieties felt by many Christians when confronting the Islamic world.
The diversity Franciscans found most troublesome was the existence of Christian communities under Islamic rule.45 The passiones
pointedly referred to such communities and connected the events of
the martyrdoms to them. The friars usually stayed with resident
Christians upon arrival in an Islamic city. The Franciscan martyrs killed
in Morocco in 1220 first preached in the city of Seville, enjoying “the
hospitality of certain Christians for eight days.” In Marrakesh, the friars
again rested with resident Christians, in particular the Infante Pedro,
the exiled brother of the king of Portugal. After the caliph imprisoned
them for twenty days, the friars again desired to preach to the
Saracens,“but the Christians would in no way permit it out of fear of
the king.”46 It was only through the intercession of an adviser to the
king,Ababoturin, who “loved the Christians”47 but apparently was not
one, that the Franciscans were released. When the friars again
preached before the king, provoking his anger, the Christians fled.48
After the death of the friars, the Christians hid in their houses for three
days, leaving the bodies of the martyrs exposed to the outrages of the
Muslims. In the end it was a group of Muslims,“some out of friendship
and some because of money,” who collected the relics and handed
them over to the Infante, who in turn brought them back to Portugal.
This pattern of fearful Christians appeared in many different accounts.
Rather than aligning the martyrs with Christians under Islamic rule,
the narratives placed local Christians in contrast to the martyrs.
Like neo-martyrs, the Franciscan martyrs rarely performed miracles, and those they did perform were not transformative. The miracles, suffering, and deaths of the martyrs did not serve to convert
Muslims or consecrate any holy space in the locales where they suf45
See Lisa Weston’s article on the martyrdom of Pelagius for another example of a
martyrdom that confronts the problem of a mixed society: “The Saracen and the
Martyr: Embracing the Foreign in Hrotsvit’s Pelagius,” in Meeting the Foreign in the
Middle Ages, ed.Albrecht Claussen (New York, 2002), pp. 11–26.
46
“Chronica XXIV generalium,” p. 19.
47
“Chronica XXIV generalium,” p. 18.
48
“Chronica XXIV generalium,” p. 19.

BY CHRISTOPHER MACEVITT

15

fered, or where their broken bodies were tossed. Nor did the example
of the martyrs serve to strengthen or encourage resident Christians.
Saracens remained Saracens, and cowed Christians grew only more
fearful. One of the few miracles that did appear in the martyrdom
accounts was performed by the first group of martyrs in Morocco.
The Franciscans’ sometime-host, the Infante Pedro, was serving as a
military adviser to the Almohad caliph Yusuf II al-Mustansir (1213–24).
The martyrs accompanied the Muslim army of Marrakesh who, under
the command of the Catholic Infante, were on a mission to punish
Muslims rebelling against the caliph’s authority. The army had run out
of water, and the friars miraculously created a spring from which all
the soldiers could fill their jugs.The paradox here is striking; the martyrs miraculously bolstered the military power of the infidel ruler
who would shortly execute them, and who was himself a prime target
of crusades launched in Spain.49 The account even emphasized that
the miraculous spring that had saved the caliph’s army dried up once
the soldiers had drunk their fill; not even the land itself retained the
impression of the friars’ miraculous powers.50
The friars of 1220 knew even before they crossed into partes infidelium that they would return to Christian lands; they predicted to
the Portuguese queen Urraca that “when we have died in Morocco,
Christians will carry our bodies to this city and bury them here, and
you yourself with the populace will come out to welcome us honorably and with devotion.”51 In death, the martyrs equally made clear
their desire to leave the partes infidelium, a desire opposite the
equally strong one that had brought them to Morocco while alive.
When the Infante Pedro left Morocco, he
ordered that the mule carrying the relics [of the martyrs] precede all those
on horseback, and whichever way it chose they would follow. The mule,
directed by God, immediately turned off from the road, on which an
ambush of the Saracens was waiting, as afterwards it was told to the
Infante, and advancing by a certain rough and unused way, the mule
detoured over mountains and through valleys.52

Through the agency of the mule, the martyrs not only ensured the
return of their bodies to Christian lands but also resolved the anom49
Joseph F. O’Callaghan, Reconquest and Crusade in Medieval Spain (Philadelphia,
2003), pp. 78–83.
50
“Chronica XXIV generalium,” p. 18.
51
“Chronica XXIV generalium,” p. 16.
52
“Chronica XXIV generalium,” pp. 20–21.

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MARTYRDOM AND THE MUSLIM WORLD THROUGH FRANCISCAN EYES

alous situation of a Christian prince serving a caliph by ensuring the
Infante’s safe return as well. The martyrs signaled their satisfaction
upon returning to partes fidelium by healing a paralyzed man in
whose house their relics rested on their journey.53
Ultimately the miracles, suffering, and eventual execution of the
friars failed to create a Christian space in Islamic lands or to embolden
the Christians living there. No shrines were built, no miraculous springs
were left flowing, and no new Christians were converted to the faith to
honor their memory. This was a departure from the martyrological tradition with which the Franciscans were familiar.Why, then, the change?
It was not for local Christians to celebrate the martyrs or receive the
blessings of their miracles, but good and true Christians properly residing in Christian lands. The drama of the martyrdom thus affirmed
Marrakesh as an infidel (that is, Muslim) space in which Christian qualities could find no purchase, even among its Christian inhabitants.
Most notably of all, the friars fail to win converts, either through
preaching or miracles. In the few instances when conversions did
follow martyrdom, the Franciscan accounts denied or discounted any
influence the martyrs might have had. In 1231 two friars, John of
Perugia and Peter of Saxoferrato, were martyred in Muslim-ruled
Valencia.54 Some seven years later, Abu Zayd, the Almohad wali who
ruled the city and had executed the friars, converted to Christianity, an
event described in the Chronica XXIV generalium ministrorum
immediately following the account of the martyrdom of the two friars.
Although this might incline the reader to believe that the heroism of
the martyrs might have led the emir to the baptismal font, the author of
the Chronica assured the reader that this was not the case, explaining
that in the intervening years Abu Zayd had suffered defeat after defeat
at the hands of the Christian armies of Aragon.The Muslim prince converted and surrendered his city as a result of pressure from Christian
armies, not through inspiration by the glories of martyrdom.55
53

“Chronica XXIV generalium,” p. 21.
See n10 above for bibliography.
55
“Chronica XXIV generalium,” p. 187. For more on Abu Zayd, see Robert I. Burns,
S.J., “Almohad Prince and Mudejar Convert: New Documentation on Abu Zayd,” in
Medieval Iberia: Essays on the History and Literature of Medieval Spain, ed. Donald
J. Kagay and Joseph T. Snow (New York, 1997), pp. 171–88. King James I of Aragon, the
conqueror of Valencia, apparently did not consider the martyrs important either (or
perhaps did not know about them), for he did not mention them in his account of the
conquest. The Book of the Deeds of James I of Aragon: A Translation of the Medieval
Catalan Llibre dels Fets, trans. Damian Smith and Helena Buffery (Burlington,VT, 2003).
54

BY CHRISTOPHER MACEVITT

17

Although the martyrs were initially buried in Valencia, the Muslims
soon traded them for Muslim prisoners captured by the Aragonese in
battle.56 Even after the city was Christianized through occupation by
the Aragonese and the Franciscans received land in the city, the relics
of Valencian martyrs remained in Teruel, the city from which they had
initially departed.57 What the martyrs themselves hoped to achieve
we cannot know. But the fourteenth-century narrators of their deaths
were most interested in showing the stalwart heroism of the martyrs
and their complete rejection by the Muslim world. Like the Jews in
Christian theology, the Muslims had been offered salvation and
rejected it—they were therefore ineradicably a part of this world and,
although damned, would endure until Christ’s triumphal return.
The account of the martyrdom of three friars in Armenia in 131458
appears in a number of sources and demonstrates that even when a
passio fits a model of martyrological transformation, the Franciscan
narrative subverted it. In the account given in a manuscript in the
British Library as well as in the Chronica,59 Armenian Christians took
an important role—indeed, the account must largely be based upon
reports from local Christians—but ultimately, the narrative served to
highlight the unchangeable Islamic nature of the place and community in which the martyrdom took place. As in the account of the
Moroccan martyrs, the Muslim authorities in Arzenga (probably the
city of Erzinjan) were not eager to execute the friars. Preaching in
public, the friars not only proclaimed Christianity but also challenged
central Islamic beliefs, asking the crowd:“Who is this Machomet who
deceived you, declaring himself to be a prophet? What scripture, what
miracles, what vita served as witness to him?”60 The qadi (or judge)
56

“Chronica XXIV generalium,” p. 186.
“Chronica XXIV generalium,” pp. 186–89.
58
The date of the martyrdom is given variously as 1288 and 1314.According to the
catalog of Franciscan martyrs contained in the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek München,
MS. Lat. 3702, the martyrdom occurred in 1314; see Golubovich, Bio-Bibliografica,
II:61. However, in the “Chronica XXIV generalium,” the martyrdom is placed within the
generalate of Matthew of Acquasparta, who was minister-general of the order from
1287 to 1289. “Chronica XXIV generalium,” p. 412n3. However, as will be discussed
below, the martyrs were still alive in 1307, making 1314 the correct date.
59
The account preserved in the British Library manuscript Cotton Nero A IX begins
as a letter from Philip, vicar in the East, addressed to Raymond de Fronsac, procuratorgeneral of the order, who was in turn forwarding the letter written to the vicar “P” (presumably Philip) from “G” (possibly Grimaldi), the guardian of Trebizond, in the name of
other friars as well. London, British Lib., Cotton Nero A IX, fol. 96v.
60
Cotton Nero A IX, fols. 96v–97r; Golubovich, Bio-Bibliographica, II:67;“Chronica
XXIV generalium,” p. 413.
57

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MARTYRDOM AND THE MUSLIM WORLD THROUGH FRANCISCAN EYES

of the community gave the friars some advice in response: “Depart
quickly while you can.”61 The friars, however, had made clear their
intention to die as martyrs, and when they returned, the qadi executed them for insulting the prophet.
Following the execution of the friars, the Muslims seized an
Armenian priest,“who was seen by the brothers as a beloved friend,”62
tied one of martyrs’ severed heads around his neck, and beat him as
they paraded him through town. This same priest, with the help of
other Armenians, later collected the scattered limbs of the martyrs and
gave them a proper burial. One Armenian even took home two of the
heads of the martyrs. Furthermore, the Armenians of the town testified
that on the night the bodies of the martyrs were interred, the sky was
filled with celestial lights and wonders. Even a Muslim who argued
against the killing of the martyrs was killed by the Islamic authorities.63
In this case, the Muslim leaders and at least some of the Armenian community did identify the friars with the Armenian Christian community.
This account, then, would appear to fit traditional tropes of martyrdom, where the glory of the martyrs and the miracles associated with
their death embolden a struggling Christian community and attract
new converts from the dominant persecuting group.
Yet even as the narrative generated a sense that the martyrs may
have achieved some sort of spiritual and spatial transformation in
Erzinjan, it defied that expectation and made clear that the Armenians
had no claim on the friars or their triumphal deaths. The account
recorded the death of the Muslim who protested the execution of the
friars, but did not give any assurance that the Muslim was ever baptized a Christian. Nor did it employ the ancient motif of martyrdom as
a baptism by blood, an interpretation that would give his death
Christian meaning. The narrator also made clear that all of the relics
of the martyrs returned to Franciscan hands in Christian-ruled
Trebizond, describing the arrival of the relics of the martyrs in
Trebizond and emphasizing that the entire Latin population came out
to greet them.Trebizond was under the rule of the Komnenoi emperors, and the majority of the population was Greek, Georgian, and
61
Cotton Nero A IX, fol. 97r; Golubovich, Bio-Bibliographica, II:67;“Chronica XXIV
generalium,” p. 413.
62
Cotton Nero A IX, fol. 97v; Golubovich, Bio-Bibliographica, II:68;“Chronica XXIV
generalium,” p. 414.
63
Cotton Nero A IX, fol. 98r; Golubovich, Bio-Bibliographica, II:68;“Chronica XXIV
generalium,” p. 415.

BY CHRISTOPHER MACEVITT

19

Armenian; they did not participate in welcoming the relics, although
some later showed their devotion separately from the Latins.64 The
account even accused the Armenian who preserved the two heads of
the martyrs of stealing them, making clear that any attempt by the
Armenian Christians to retain control of the relics was unacceptable.65 Even when local Christians suffered with the martyrs, they
were still judged unworthy. As in other accounts, the martyrs did not
belong to the local community or their world, but to the Franciscans.
It is the Franciscans themselves who preserve the memory of their
martyrs; the power evoked by the reading of their passiones is power
reserved to the Franciscans. So, too, with relics; the bodies of the martyrs returned to Franciscan control in almost every account, rather
than remaining in the places where they died and among the people
they sought to convert.The presence of the martyr physically and textually was a powerful sign of God’s blessing on the community, but
the community blessed was the Franciscan one, not the one under
“Saracen” rule.
The drama of martyrdom served to polarize Islamic lands and the
communities that lived in them, for in Franciscan eyes, they appeared
as confusingly ambiguous—a result of the intermingled populations
and forms of authority. Because martyrdom is a cosmological act, the
narrative of death necessitates a reordering of the space in which the
martyrdom occurs. Either it asserts the victory of Christianity and
foreshadows the inevitable triumph of the cross over the blasphemies
of Islam, or, as is the case here, it suggests that partes infidelium are
inalterably “other” to Christianity, and martyrdom only served to
heighten the sense that the two are diametrically opposite. Although
Franciscans, like much of Catholic Europe, were accustomed to the
complex and multireligious communities of the Mediterranean world,
the conceptual world of the martyr was an image of the contemporary world with the contrast set on high; details are washed out, and
only stark differences remain.The retelling of Franciscan martyrdoms
was, in a sense, a way to twist the knob and heighten the difference
between Christian and Muslim. Franciscan narratives about martyrdom thus not only affirmed Islam as “other” but also effectively rendered resident Christians as a part of an unalterable Islamic world
64

Cotton Nero A IX, fols. 98r–v;“Chronica XXIV generalium,” p. 415.
The narrator of the Chronica did admit that it was done “ex magna devotione.”
“Chronica XXIV generalium,” p. 414. The account in the British Library, on the other
hand, omitted this phrase. Cotton Nero A IX, fol. 98r.
65

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MARTYRDOM AND THE MUSLIM WORLD THROUGH FRANCISCAN EYES

rather than as beleaguered members of a worldwide ecclesia. The
courage of the martyr was most prominently contrasted not to the villainy of the Muslims, but the fearfulness of the resident Christians.
They had no share in the glory of the martyrs.
The fascination with the mixed nature of Islamic society also
appeared in Franciscan texts not explicitly about martyrdom. In
1307, five friars traveled to Egypt; the motive for their journey was
“the consolation of Christian captives.”66 Many former inhabitants of
Palestine and Syria were enslaved in the Mamluk realm, for less than
twenty years had passed since the Mamluks had conquered the last
remaining Frankish strongholds of Tripoli and Acre. The friars were
impressed by Egypt: the great city of Cairo, the magnificence of the
court of the sultan, and the marvels of the vast desert all amazed the
visitors.They particularly commented on the Christian population of
Cairo, noting the existence of Christian knights, for the whole
Christian population “obey the Sultan just as the Saracens, and
because the majority are faithful and true, they commit to them the
care of provinces and cities.”67 The friars praised the “Saracens” in a
number of ways: The caliph “agreed with the friars about many
things” in a discussion about Scripture, and the sultan had “the greatest devotion” for the monastery of St. Catherine on Mt. Sinai.68
Mamluk Egypt displayed the same mixed qualities that the passiones
found so disturbing elsewhere, but in this account they were praised.
The pleasant experience of the friars in Egypt stood in stark contrast to their later fates. One friar, Monald of Ancona, was among the
martyrs killed in Armenia in 1314. Another, named Angelus, was killed
by heretic Bulgarians, and a third died at the hands of infidels in the
midst of celebrating Mass.69 We cannot know why Monald did not try
66
Wadding misidentified the source; as the editors of the third edition suggested, it
was written by the Franciscan Elemosyna, rather than Odoric de Pordenone. Luke
Wadding, Annales minorum seu trium ordinum a S. Francisco institutorum, 3rd ed.
(Rome, 1733), VI:94; Paris, Bibliothèque nat., Lat. 5006, fols. 173r–74r. For more on the
episode, see Anna-Dorothee von den Brincken,“Der Oriens Christianus in der Chronik
des Johannes Elemosyna OFM (1335–36),” in Zeitschrift der deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft, Supp. 2, ed.Wolfgang Voigt (Wiesbaden, 1974), pp. 63–75, here
pp. 69–70.
67
Wadding, Annales minorum, p. 108.
68
The text refers to both the “soldanus” as well as the “kalippus,” although a meeting
with the figurehead Abbasid caliph in Cairo seems unlikely. Wadding, Annales minorum, p. 110.
69
Wadding, Annales minorum, p. 109. Angelus might be the friar mentioned by
Golubovich, Bio-Bibliographica, II:61.

BY CHRISTOPHER MACEVITT

21

to convert anyone in Cairo, especially given his enthusiastic praise for
the piety of the Mamluks, yet seven years later traveled to Armenia
“spurred on by the passion for martyrdom.” The perversity of
Monald’s and Angelus’s (or of their hagiographers’) contradictory attitudes toward the world of Islam hinted at the multiple values that
Islamic lands and communities held for Franciscans and for western
Europeans in general.
Other western Christians saw in Islam the same adamantine qualities as the Franciscan martyrdoms did. The Dominican Ricoldo of
Monte Croce traveled to the Frankish Levant to preach to non-Latins
and continued on to Baghdad to preach there. After the Mamluk conquest of Acre in 1291 and the failure of his own attempts at conversion, he also came to believe that Islam was impervious to Christian
influence.70 The loss of the Holy Land and the absolute victory of the
Mamluks over the Christians at Acre caused others to doubt as well.
Thaddeus of Naples, writing soon after the fall of Acre, described the
city’s conquest and wrote that Palestine had transformed from loving
mother to her Christian offspring to spiteful stepmother.71 The Holy
Land had thus flipped its religious polarity; from the land belonging
to Jesus and imbued with his holiness, it became the fertile plowingground of Islam.72
As interesting as the narratives of martyrdom are in what they do
tell us about Franciscan perceptions of Islam, what they do not mention is equally interesting. Neither the passiones nor the Chronica,
the largest repository of martyrdom accounts, show any interest in
the considerable effort that the Franciscans put into building a network of churches and convents in Islamic lands. Behind the flashy
martyrdoms, an entire Franciscan network was slowly developing in
Islamic countries, following Francis’s injunction to “avoid dispute” in
their work of conversion.73 To do so, they necessarily had to avoid the
70
Ricoldo de Monte Croce,“Epistolae V commentatorie de perditione Acconis 1291,”
in Archives de L’Orient latin (Paris, 1884), pp. 258–96. Ricoldo struggled to understand
how a Christian god allowed Muslim victories over Christians, asking if God intended
that Muhammad should rule the world.
71
Magister Thadeus,“Ystoria de desolatione et conculcatione civitatis Acconensis et
tocius terre sancte,” ed. R. B. C. Huygens, in Corpus Christianorum: Continuatio
Medieualis (Turnhout, 2004), 202:157.
72
Iris Shagrir,“An Uncertain Pilgrim: Riccoldo of Monte Croce and the Fall of Acre,”
paper presented at the quadrennial conference for the Society for the Study of the
Crusades and the Latin East,Avignon, France,August 27–30, 2008.
73
Tolan, Saracens, pp. 218–19.

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MARTYRDOM AND THE MUSLIM WORLD THROUGH FRANCISCAN EYES

flamboyant contravention of Islamic law and therefore could not
directly attempt to convert Muslims. Rather, as Pope Honorius III
made clear in a bull of 1226, the Franciscans also should focus on ministering to Christian communities under Islamic rule, such as in
Morocco and other places in the Muslim world.74 Only six years after
the death of seven Franciscans in Ceuta, Pope Gregory IX wrote to the
Almohad caliph, urging him to convert and welcome a bishop, apparently of Fez, as well as other Franciscans.75 Despite the enthusiasm
shown for Franciscans who died in Morocco, the author of the
Chronica ignored figures such as the bishop of Fez.Why did the martyrs exemplify Franciscan virtue better than the bishop who administered to indigenous Christians, at least in the eyes of Franciscan
hagiographers and chroniclers? The author’s disinterest in the efforts
of Franciscans to build the foundations of an institutional church in
infidel lands matched his insistence on the separation of the martyrs
from local Christian observers and participants. By choosing the stories of the martyrs over the stories of missionaries who may not have
died but may have converted “infidels” and built churches in the nonChristian world, the author of the Chronica was making an argument
about the possible achievements of the Franciscans in partes infidelium and the core values of the order. Friars should stand opposed
to the world, not engage in its transformation, which arguably
inverted the vision of Francis, who saw his “little brothers” as following the apostles in their mission to go out and spread “the good news.”
The Chronica also ignored one of the most enduring roles of the
Franciscan Order in Islamic lands, which began at the same time as the
stories of the martyrs—serving as the Latin custodians of the Holy
Places in Jerusalem and the Holy Land. Beginning in 1334, friars
received control of a convent located on Mt. Zion in Jerusalem,
through the agreement of the Mamluk sultans.This might well be seen
as a coup for the order—the Franciscan convent was the first permanent Latin presence in the Holy City since its loss in 1244, and the
Franciscans managed to gain for the Latins access to some of the holiest places in Jerusalem and later to other holy places; the prominent
place of the Catholic Church in the Holy Land even today is largely due
to their efforts. Exclusion from the holy places was a challenge to the
antiquity and legitimacy of the Catholic tradition. Despite the apparent
glory (and potential for hardship), the chronicler never mentioned
74
75

Bullarium Franciscanum, ed. Joannis Hyacinth Sbaralea (Rome, 1759), I:26.
Bullarium Franciscanum I:106–07. Wadding identified the bishop as Agnellus.

BY CHRISTOPHER MACEVITT

23

Jerusalem or the Franciscan presence there.76 To do so would be to
contradict the principle of separation that the stories of the martyrs
articulated.The friars would be the very people living in Islamic lands
under Islamic authority that the passiones repeatedly reject. For the
author of the Chronica, as well as other fourteenth-century
Franciscans, the stories of the martyrs were not about preaching to the
infidels or the possibility of conversion, for these are all forms of
engagement. Rather, the martyrs were performers, who powerfully
demonstrated two Franciscan virtues so often in conflict—submission
and humility before a world where pride and power ruled, and the dramatic and haughty rejection of the world.
The motives of the men who died by deliberately breaking Islamic
law are unrecoverable, barring the discovery of an autobiographical
account like that of St. Perpetua. Even the reaction of the contemporaries of the earliest martyrs is murky. But in the fourteenth century,
the stories of the martyrs suddenly had the potential to narrate the
central values held by the factionalized Franciscan Order. The stories
of the martyrs expressed a deep pessimism about the possibility of
transforming the world, a world embodied in the “Saracens” and their
carnal and worldly religion. The martyrs, and by extension the community of the Franciscans, showed themselves to be both below the
world (by submitting to its persecution and punishment) and above
it (by rejecting the world through the denial of the possibility of its
transformation and through the martyrs’ embrace of death).

76
For the most part, the chronicler also avoided mentioning martyrdoms that
occurred in Mamluk lands. He did not mention, for example, the martyrdom of the
custos James and the friar Jeremias with seven other friars in Mamluk Syria in 1269; see
Golubovich, Bio-Bibliographica, II:61. Likewise, friar Marco and his sixteen companions were ignored when they were martyred in Damascus in 1365 in the aftermath of
King Peter of Cyprus’s capture of Mamluk Alexandria in 1365; see Golubovich, BioBibliographica, II:62.

TRUE AND FALSE ENLIGHTENMENT:
GERMAN SCHOLARS AND THE DISCOURSE OF
CATHOLICISM IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
BY

RICHARD SCHAEFER*

This article reinterprets Catholic hostility toward the Enlightenment
in the nineteenth century. Reading the efforts of German-Catholic
scholars to distinguish “true” from “false” Enlightenment, it argues
that this differentiation was part of a broader discourse of
Catholicism through which Catholics sought to engage the modern
world. More than merely an instance of co-opting a hegemonic terminology, laying claim to “true” Enlightenment helped scholars in
three distinct ways: It legitimized their own scholarly praxis, served
as a way of managing anxiety over Catholic involvement in the
Enlightenment, and provided a framework for pinpointing
Catholicism’s cultural uniqueness. By reassessing Catholic hostility
to one major tenet of modernity in this way, the article steps outside the “master narrative of secularization” and joins a growing
tendency to approach religion from a postsecular perspective.
Keywords: German Catholics; Catholic scholars; Catholic revival;
Enlightenment; postsecular
In the nineteenth century, Catholics insisted that a causal relationship existed between Enlightenment ideas and revolution, and penned
a steady stream of attacks warning of the ill effects of Enlightenment
thinking on morality and social order. In the wake of the French revolution, with its unprecedented wave of anticlericalism and large-scale
expropriations of church property, nothing seemed more certain than
the fact that Catholicism was the necessary antidote to “egoism” and
the poison of “ideas.” Not surprisingly, such attacks often took a populist form.Thus, in his Phrases and Clichés (1862), the Prussian lawyer
*Dr. Schaefer is assistant professor in the Department of History at the State
University of New York, College at Plattsburgh. The translations provided throughout
this article are the author’s.

24

BY RICHARD SCHAEFER

25

and politician August Reichensperger summarized Enlightenment as
“the dissolution of all concepts pertaining to duty, right, and religion—
the clarity of nothingness (see also, the word ‘progress’).” Progress, in
the same source, is defined as “the monopoly of Liberalism which signifies trampling on the rights of one’s non-liberal minded neighbor.”1
In the extremely popular ABCs for Big People,Alban Stolz took a similarly dim view of Enlightenment, defining it as “believing as little as
possible” and adding: “Whoever almost never goes to Church is . . .
enlightened; whoever does not believe in Christ anymore, but sees him
only as a clever man is very enlightened; and whoever asserts that
death is the end of everything is entirely enlightened.”2 To cite another
example, Hermann Rolfus and Adolph Pfister, in their RealEncyclopedia of Rearing and Teaching Based on Catholic Principles,
called Enlightenment “the kind of bait that is thrown to those incapable of judgment in order to draw them in to the net of skepticism
and indifference.”3
But concern over the corrosive effects of Enlightenment was not
confined to popular polemic. It found its counterpart in scholarly
writing as well. Like the more popular attacks against Enlightenment,
scholarly criticism stressed its ill effects on morality and society. But
in their diagnosis of the problem, scholars were less apt to dwell on
the alleged immorality of Enlightenment thinkers than to point to
inconsistencies in the underlying principles of Enlightenment philosophy.Thus, Friedrich Hartnagel, described Enlightenment in the massive Church-Lexicon as a “condition of mind” consisting of two
aspects. Formally, it was “opposed to ignorance, unawareness, and
thoughtlessness of any kind.” Materially, it
consist[ed] in the true and correct ordering of perception and cognition, in
short, grasping objects by the mind in their entirety and nature with exact
consistency, distinctiveness and clarity according to the laws of thought, so
that thinking and knowing something harmonize and are the true reflection of objects.4
1
August Reichensperger, Phrasen und Schlagwörter: Ein Noth und Hülfsbüchlein
für Zeitungsleser (Paderborn, 1862), p. 13.
2
Alban Stolz,“ABC für grosse Leute. Kalender für Zeit und Ewigkeit 1864,” in Alban
Stolz. Kompass für Leben und Sterben, ed. Julius Mayer (Freiburg, 1911), 3–6.
3
Hermann Rolfus and Adolph Pfister, Real-Encyclopädie des Erziehungs- und
Unterrichtswesens nach katholischen Principien, 2.Auflage ed. (Mainz, 1872), 146–47.
4
Friedrich Hartnagel, “Aufklärung,” in Kirchen-Lexikon, oder Encyklopädie der
katholischen Theologie und ihrer Hilfswissenschaften, ed. Heinrich Joseph Wetzer and
Benedikt von Welte (Freiburg, 1857), pp. 510–11.

26

TRUE AND FALSE ENLIGHTENMENT

True Enlightenment thus meant “being free of false cognition,
confusion and error”; false Enlightenment consisted in focusing
solely on the operation of the “subjective mind.” Similarly, in his contribution to the General Church-Lexicon, Peter Volkmuth described
Enlightenment, “in the real sense of the word,” as “raising the subjective principle of clear concepts to the criterion of objective
truth.”5 Like Hartnagel, he warned against false Enlightenment,
which occurred when a “subjective, one-sided deportment” led to
“reality-less generalities.”Andreas Niedermayer took a slightly harder
tack in The German Clergy and Science, lamenting how “false
Enlightenment” encouraged “shallow education, frivolous unprincipledness, and a soft sentimentality to become dominant in the world
of German men.”6 To these, longer studies should be added such as
Heinrich Brück’s The Rationalistic Strivings in Catholic Germany,
Especially in the Three Rhenish Archbishoprics in the Second Half
of the Eighteenth Century and Carl Werner’s History of Catholic
Theology from the Council of Trent to the Present. Both works
blamed the Enlightenment for promoting dangerous tendencies in
Catholic theology, from Erastianism in church-state relations to idealism in philosophy.
This article discusses how, for Catholic scholars, attacking the
Enlightenment—far from simply a conservative lament—was formative for their self-understanding, especially in German-speaking
Europe. In contrast with popular writers, scholars could not rest content by simply showing how the Enlightenment clashed with Catholic
beliefs, but carried the burden of clarifying the basis of their critique
and thus defining an alternative scholarly habitus from secular counterparts. That such an alternative should correctly reflect orthodox
doctrine was hardly in dispute, of course; everyone venturing an opinion solemnly swore fidelity to the Church and its dogmas (even when
such oaths were made pro forma). But that scholars labored just as
hard to ensure that such an alternative be “scholarly” is a story not
often told.Yet research has shown that Catholic scholars were just as
motivated as their non-Catholic counterparts to produce new knowledge based on evidence and sound reasoning as mandated by the
5
Peter Volkmuth, “Aufklärung,” in Allgemeines Kirchen-Lexikon oder alphabetisch
geordnete Darstellung des Wissenswuerdigsten aus der gesammten Theologie und
ihren Huelfswissenschaften, ed. Joseph Aschbach (Frankfurt a.M., 1846), p. 389.
6
Andreas Niedermayer, Der deutsche Clerus und die Wissenschaft, 2nd ed. (Freiburg,
1864), p. 10.

BY RICHARD SCHAEFER

27

scholarly ideal of Wissenschaft.7 Indeed, the fact is that Catholic scholars increasingly adopted a “public style” that placed them squarely on
the same ground as that of their opponents, debating fiercely the
merits of modern values such as Enlightenment, science, and liberalism.8 In doing so, these scholars did not simply reject, but rearticulated for themselves and according to their own needs one tenet of
the discourse of modernity. That they did so in ways that also conformed to it—not by celebrating the self-sufficiency of reason, but by
insisting just as much on the power of reason to disclose its own
limits—merits especially close scrutiny. This not only empowered
scholars to try and find the right strategy for legitimizing “modern”
Catholicism but also put them in potential conflict with others seeking to do the same. In the nineteenth century, this meant conflict with
both the papacy on the one hand and advocates of a resurgent popular Catholicism on the other. In this tripartite struggle to define the
future of Catholicism, scholars were forced to articulate a discourse of
Catholicism that was both critical and commensurate with the
demands of modernity.9 Discourse is not used here to refer to a lexicon of terms and concepts, more or less clearly defined, that provide
a means of understanding Catholics. Instead, what is meant are the
rules that allow such terms and concepts to appear as meaningful
instruments in the first place, principles that Michel Foucault
described as a “system of dispersion” governing statements and permitting the appearance of certain objects. Such rules are neither transcendent (ideal) nor transcendental (formal) but, as Foucault stressed,
“from beginning to end historical.”10 They thus appear in practice
rather than imposed from outside and, in the case of the discourse of
Catholicism, emerged in the course of trying to define the nature of
Catholicism—that is to say, as statements that implicitly or explicitly

7
Richard Schaefer,“Program for a New Catholic Wissenschaft: Devotional Activism
and Catholic Modernity in the Nineteenth Century,” Modern Intellectual History, 4
(2007), 433–62; Richard Schaefer, “Infallibility and Intentionality: Franz Brentano’s
Diagnosis of German Catholicism,” Journal of the History of Ideas, 68 (2007), 477–99.
8
David O’Brien, Public Catholicism (New York, 1989).
9
Modernity here does not refer to the assumption typically associated with “modernization theory” of a linear evolution toward a superior rationality and its corollaries
of social and political progress, but to what Shmuel N. Eisenstadt describes as living
with “an awareness of the possibility of multiple visions that [. . . can] be contested”;
modernity requires that all assertions of authority and identity supply their own justification. Eisenstadt, “Multiple Modernities,” in Multiple Modernities, ed. Shmuel N.
Eisenstadt (New Brunswick, NJ, 2002), pp. 1–29, here p. 4.
10
Michel Foucault, The Archaeology of Knowledge (London, 1972).

28

TRUE AND FALSE ENLIGHTENMENT

took the form “Catholicism is _______.”What defined this nineteenthcentury discourse in the German territories was the fact that such
statements were routinely answered, not by citing dogma or other
authoritative church pronouncements, but by looking to the practices
of Catholicism—the social and cultural activities of the faithful.11 That
they did so can be explained by the fact that such statements were
themselves rooted in a broader Catholic revival that was taking place
in the nineteenth century.
Although it followed different paths in different regions, the
Catholic revival was a transnational European phenomenon that promoted a reinvigorated popular piety and impressive infrastructure of
Catholic organizations. Linked to a broader transformation of the
Church from one based on territorial sovereignty to one based on
popular support, the revival grew in direct proportion to the threat to
papal sovereignty over the course of the nineteenth century. In the
German territories, the revival began in the middle of the century
with outrage over the arrest of Clemens August von DrosteVischering, the archbishop of Cologne, in 1837 and grew steadily over
the course of the following decades.12 Never simply backward-looking, the revival saw Catholics in the German territories embrace a
range of otherwise “modern” strategies for defending and furthering
their interests. Among these must be counted an effective Catholic
press, laymen and -women’s devotional societies, workers’ associations, reading societies, political organizations, and mass rallies occasioned by gatherings such as pilgrimages and processions. What
defined these initiatives, however, was a commitment to taking a res11
That is not to say that doctrine was not important. It was crucial, especially in the
later debates over the “Syllabus of Errors” and the promulgation of papal infallibility.Yet,
until these debates split the scholarly community in the latter half of the 1860s, most
scholars took for granted that they were united in their opposition to hostile foes and
that, as such, they were all speaking in the name of Catholic “truth.” For a good treatment of efforts at self-definition in the early-modern period, see Marc R. Forster,
Catholic Revival in the Age of the Baroque. Religious Identity in Southwest Germany,
1550–1750 (New York, 2001).
12
Margaret Lavinia Anderson, “Piety and Politics: Recent Work on German
Catholicism,” Journal of Modern History, 63 (1991), 681–716; Jonathan Sperber,
Popular Catholicism in Nineteenth-Century Germany (Princeton, 1984); David
Blackbourn, “The Catholic Church in Europe since the French Revolution. A Review
Article,” Society for Comparative Study of Society and History, 33 (1991), 778–90;
Raymond Grew, “Liberty and the Catholic Church in Nineteenth-Century Europe,” in
Freedom and Religion in the Nineteenth Century, ed. Richard Helmstadter (Stanford,
1997), pp. 196–232.

BY RICHARD SCHAEFER

29

olutely public and “Catholic” stand on issues. Inspired by the revival to
strike an independent note, therefore, scholars confidently sought to
lay the foundations of a “Catholic science” in the late 1840s through
the mid-1860s. But more than that, they sought to become leaders of
public opinion, and the revival inspired them—as professionals in the
art of analysis and definition—to claim the role of mediator between
the church hierarchy and rank-and-file faithful in the public sphere.
Munich historian Ignaz von Döllinger perhaps best summarized this
goal in defining theology as the voice of public opinion during his
keynote address at the controversial Meeting of Catholic Scholars in
1863. Situated between Rome and her flock, theology, in his words,
lends life and strength to just, healthy public opinion in religious and
Church matters, opinion, before which everyone must bow, even the heads
of the Church and the carriers of power. Similar to the prophets during the
Hebrew age, which stood beside the appointed priests, there exists an
extraordinary power in the Church alongside the regular authorities, and
this is public opinion. Through it, theology exerts its proper influence,
against which nothing can defend for long. For the theologian judges and
guides appearances in the Church according to ideas, while the thoughtless
masses do things in the opposite way.13

For Döllinger, theology had authority because it joined religious
devotion with ideas in the disciplined pursuit of truth (Wissenschaft).
Situated between the Church and flock, the theologian—the
scholar—served as a check on both, steering a course between the
errors of the past and the excesses of the present.
And yet, as empowering as this new, self-appointed role of the
scholar was, it proved perilous for two reasons. On the one hand, the
revival was shifting the relative power of hierarchy and flock, and
transforming the Church from one based on territorial sovereignty to
one based on popular support. In this context, scholars’ bid to rein in
both was nothing short of a catastrophic misreading of the situation,
as Roman authority grew precisely in proportion to its populist
appeal to the masses of Catholics, and both papacy and populous
were keen to decry any attempt at compromise with modern errors.
On the other hand, scholars themselves were increasingly bound to
adopt a different approach in their attack on modern ideas. Although
scholars’ knowledge of the leading ideas of the time gave them the
13
Verhandlungen der Versammlung katholischer Gelehrten in München vom 28.
September bis 1. Oktober 1863, ed. Pius Bonifacius Gams (München,1863), p. 47.

30

TRUE AND FALSE ENLIGHTENMENT

professional confidence to re-evaluate Catholic traditions and set a
viable course for the future, it also implicated them in a process of
self-criticism that had the potential to outstrip what they took for
granted as a safe Catholic standpoint from which to criticize. Taking
stock of modern ideas like Enlightenment—evaluating their worth for
Catholicism—required that scholars outline criteria that made certain
options better than others. This forced them to make explicit what
were frequently implicit assumptions regarding the superiority of
“Catholic” alternatives. It also forced them to clarify how a critique of
the conditions of any possible “catholic” understanding differed, in
kind, from the spirit of critique that was the mainstay of secular
rationalism. Of course, such stocktaking was limited in a very real
sense by what ecclesiastical authorities would tolerate. It was also limited, at least in practice, to those Catholics whose education and profession made it incumbent on them to engage in reasoned debate on
issues; thus, besides university scholars and seminarians, journalists
and other educated Catholics also engaged in the discourse of
Catholicism.14 But it exerted sustained, if subterranean, pressure on all
those who sought seriously to provide new foundations for Catholic
thought in the nineteenth century.This insistence on stocktaking and
self-critique is not to deny or excuse the many instances of polemical
excess and even downright bigotry aimed at Protestants, Jews,
Freemasons, liberals, and others.15 But to understand this excess—
what disqualifies nineteenth-century Catholics from serious consideration by so many today—it is necessary to acknowledge its roots in a
broader effort to meet the challenges of the age squarely and confidently.That this effort could just as easily conduce to creative rethinking of the Catholic position as a knee-jerk reaction is illustrated in the
way that Catholic scholars sought to deal with the legacy of the
Enlightenment in the nineteenth century.
In their settling of accounts with the Enlightenment, Catholic
scholars in the German territories eschewed outright dismissal in
favor of a distinct pattern of differentiating “true” from “false”
Enlightenment. Hartnagel, for example, distinguished between
Enlightenment that was only formally “opposed to ignorance” and the
14
Of the eighty-four who attended the Munich Meeting of Scholars, over half were
academics affiliated with universities.The rest were independent writers, government
and church officials, newspaper editors, and teachers; see Gams, Verhandlungen der
Versammlung.
15
Helmut Walser Smith,“The Learned and the Popular Discourse of Anti-Semitism in
the Catholic Milieu of the Kaiserreich,” Central European History, 27 (1994), 315–28.

BY RICHARD SCHAEFER

31

“correct ordering of perception and cognition.” Enlightenment was
“false” when the “subjective element” was made the sole basis for
deciding questions, but “true” when it combined formal aversion
against error with the “correct ordering of perception and cognition.”
Volkmuth likewise called Enlightenment true when it “raised the subjective principle of clear concepts to the criterion of objective truth”
and false when a “one-sided deportment” led to “reality-less generalities.” In his revision of Hartnagel for the new edition of the ChurchLexicon in 1882, Brück echoed his predecessor and called true
Enlightenment objective knowledge, and “false Enlightenment . . . the
boundless dominion of human reason and the repudiation of every
authority.”16 Surveying the papacy’s influence on Western civilization,
Johann Baptist Kastner differentiated between “over-Enlightenment”
and “healing Enlightenment.”17 Writing in a similar vein on
Catholicism’s contributions to civilization, Anton Binterim called the
“real Catholic . . . alone the truly illuminated, the enlightened, because
through his belief, and through his Church as the originator of light,
he brings himself closer to he who is the true light.”18 Not confined
to Enlightenment as such, the same differentiation between “true” and
“false” was applied to the range of concepts associated with secular
rationalism. Hermann Plaßmann, for example, distinguished between
“true” and “false” progress to justify the return to Scholasticism.19
Progress was false if it led to philosophical errors, but could be true if
it divined as yet unrealized possibilities of Scholastic thought. In his
youthful address before the 1863 meeting of Catholic societies in
Frankfurt, Georg von Hertling distinguished between “true” and “false”
science.20 Nikolaus Weis, bishop of Speyer, echoed this same distinction between true and false science a few months later in his letter
approving of the 1863 Munich Meeting of Scholars.21
16
Heinrich Brück, “Aufklärung,” in Wetzer und Welte’s Kirchenlexikon, oder
Enzyklopädie der katholischen Theologie und ihrer Hülfswissenschaften, ed. Joseph
Hergenröther and Franz Kaulsen (Freiburg, 1882), p. 1605.
17
Johann Baptist Kastner, Des Papstthumes segensvolle Wirksamkeit (Sulzbach,
1832), p. 48.
18
Anton Joseph Binterim, Die vorzueglichsten Denkwuerdigkeiten der Christkatholischen Kirche aus den ersten, mittleren und letzten Zeiten. Mit besonderer
Ruecksichtnahme auf die Disciplin der katholischen Kirche in Deutschland (Mainz
1825), p. x.
19
Hermann Ernst Plaßmann, Die Schule des heiligen Thomas von Aquino
(Paderborn, 1859).
20
Verhandlungen der fünfzehnten Generalversammlung der katholischen Vereine
Deutschlands (Frankfurt am Main, 1863), p. 79.
21
Verhandlungen der fünfzehnten, p. 18.

32

TRUE AND FALSE ENLIGHTENMENT

In Freedom, Authority and Church, Bishop Wilhelm Freiherr von
Ketteler of Mainz distinguished between the “heavenly, godly sense” of
words such as “progress, brotherhood, and enlightenment” and their
secular meaning.22 More than that, however, he sought to distinguish
underlying commonalities from dangerous excesses. Indeed, Ketteler
admitted that it was precisely because such ideas tapped into the
human predisposition to be good that they had a “mighty power over
our hearts.” Detached from their Christian “roots,” however, they were
capable of confusing and leading people astray. In this context, false
Enlightenment was especially dangerous because it constrained an
individual to think in terms defined by the present alone according to
a truncated conception of reason emancipated from its past. True
Enlightenment, according to Ketteler, grasped its own historical roots,
which in turn gave a person the ability to distinguish between “justified and unjustified tendencies of the age.” True Enlightenment thus
illuminated how “progress, brotherhood, and enlightenment” were
neither new ideas nor fundamentally antireligious, but part of the
legacy of how “Christianity turns to meet all, high and low, rich and
poor.” They were, therefore, a solid foundation for Catholics today
who wanted to play a role in remedying the ills of modern society. To
see this, of course, the commonplace idea that “social and political
forms from the past are defunct” had to be dropped in favor of the
possibility that a “Catholic life-view” could be an effective and contemporary source of meaningful social action.
Of course, differentiating true from false Enlightenment overlapped both with an earlier critique that differentiated between “sick”
and “healthy” reason, and with the larger romantic rejection of reason
alone. Nevertheless, insofar as it could not rest content with simply
rejecting what it could not abide, this differentiation was of another
order. This contrast is evident in Benedikt Stattler’s polemic against
Immanuel Kant. In The True Relationship between Kantian
Philosophy and Christian Religion and Morality, Based on Kant’s
Own Admissions, Stattler accused Kant of “unphilosophical thinking”:
Unphilosophical thinking is, according to my conception: (1) that which
announces and uses basic concepts that do not observe the rules of logic
for treating fundamental demonstrations; (2) that which does not observe
a logical order in the formation of concepts or define their class; (3) that
where no fixed and exact concept is given, and yet indefinite concepts are
22
Wilhelm Emmanuel Ketteler, Freiheit, Autorität und Kirche. Erörterungen über
die grossen Probleme der Gegenwart, 3rd ed. (Mainz, 1862).

BY RICHARD SCHAEFER

33

taken as a foundation; (4) where one does not know, nor tries to, what other
philosophical minds have publicly stated, and fixed according to logical
rules, about such unphilosophically fitting concepts; (5) those instances
where one sets up as basic, as axioms of a philosophically grand edifice,
propositions that clearly contradict general healthy understanding, overturn the entire religion and morality of Christianity (that reigns in every
Christian state) as well as all logic and metaphysics, without any proof nor
sense for how to clarify the matter.23

For Stattler, Kantian philosophy was dangerous for religion and
morality precisely because it contradicted the norms of “healthy”
understanding:“What I’ve said here is taken for granted by all careful
thinking philosophers as well as reasonable people.”24 It was thus less
its specific content than the way it went against the grain of everyday
thought that made it an affront. Although certainly not the only
voice—there were no small number of Catholic admirers of Kant as
well—Stattler’s treatment is paradigmatic for how earlier critics dismissed outright what nineteenth-century Catholic scholars treated
more delicately.25 Why this was so cannot be reduced to “liberal” and
“conservative” casts of mind, for differentiation between true and
false Enlightenment was not restricted to one or other of these
camps; on the contrary, laying claim to “true” Enlightenment was part
of a much larger and more systematic discourse of Catholicism
through which scholars of all stripes laid claim to being agents of a
modern Catholic public sphere.26 Helping to give voice to Catholic
truth in a new context, this discourse was the foundation for imagining and articulating a variety of futures of which liberal and ultramontane were only the most visible.
Although the origins of the discourse of Catholicism cannot be
dated with any degree of precision, a genealogy of the differentiation
between true and false Enlightenment might usefully begin with
23
Benedikt Stattler, Wahres Verhältniss der Kantischen Philosophie zur christlichen
Religion und Moral nach dem nunmehr redlich gethanen Gestaendnisse selbst des
Herrn Kants und seiner eifrigsten Anhänger (München, 1794), p. 7.
24
Stattler, Wahres Verhältniss, p. 7.
25
Norbert Fischer, ed., Kant und der Katholizismus: Stationen einer wechselhaften
Geschichte (Freiburg, 2005).
26
The focus here on “scholars of all stripes,” both cleric and lay, contrasts with
Michael Printy’s decision to focus on lay scholars alone; this somewhat skews his otherwise important conclusions regarding the Enlightenment as a matrix for the formation of a distinct “German Catholicism.” Michael Printy, Enlightenment and the
Creation of German Catholicism (New York, 2009).

34

TRUE AND FALSE ENLIGHTENMENT

Michael Arneth’s The Difference between the Merely Rational and
the Catholic Interpretation of Scripture. Written in the form of “letters to a learned friend,” it contains in embryonic form the effort to
free Catholic thinking from compulsive gainsaying. Indeed, for Arneth,
the time had come to acknowledge the limits of both “philosophical”
readings of the Bible and one-dimensional Catholic ones that merely
sought to parrot church teaching. Although he does not explicitly differentiate between “true” and “false” interpretation in this text, his aim
is nonetheless to pave the way for a kind of biblical exegesis that is
both “Catholic” and “rational” in the proper sense. This meant, above
all, differentiating between the “merely rational” approach to the
Bible, which consisted of “quibbling according to whim” and a quintessentially Catholic rationalism open to new possibilities but
supremely confident in the validity of existing Catholic doctrine.27
But more to the point, this required legitimizing Catholic scholarship
as such. Although Arneth joined Stattler in vilifying the influence of
Kant, he could not rest content with any assumed “Catholic” standpoint that might serve as an alternative. Indeed, for Arneth, the issue
was to validate a distinctly Catholic standpoint that could withstand
the increasingly critical light of public opinion:
Catholic exegetes are sometimes dismissed and decried as heretical and
obnoxious, sometimes as dumb and obscure, merely because one does not
know how to appreciate them or know the characteristics of true Catholic
interpretation. . . . Indeed, even Catholics who want to be true Catholic
exegetes do not know, it seems to me, how to do it; what they should and
should not, may or may not do. As a result, their good intentions run into
nothing but opposition, contradiction, and disapproval.28

Unlike Stattler, then, Arneth held that “true Catholic interpretation”
was not yet something one knew how to practice or even recognize,
as it was, in many ways, a category that had yet to be articulated.That
it needed to be justified to Catholics as well as others helps illuminate
how this particular effort was rooted in more than just biblical exegetics, serving the broader attempt to forge the terms of a distinctly
Catholic engagement with modernity referred to here as the discourse of Catholicism.
In looking at how German scholars sought to distinguish “true”from
“false” Enlightenment in the nineteenth century, what stands out is
27
Michael Arneth, Die Unterschiede zwischen der bloß rationellen und der
katholischen Schriftauslegung (Linz, 1816), p. 4.
28
Arneth, Die Unterschiede, p. 8.

BY RICHARD SCHAEFER

35

how they were determined to claim certain concepts despite their
condemnation of them as buzzwords and empty phrases. Therefore,
Catholic discontent over these concepts yielded, in most instances, to
an overriding desire to stay on the same terrain; to stake out, in other
words, comparable (if diametrically opposed) Catholic meanings for
these terms. This ambivalence helps reveal the discourse of
Catholicism as a tense but fertile exchange with the ideas it critiqued.
Indeed, in seeking to be authoritative statements on how to live and be
Catholic in the modern world, the discourse of Catholicism sought
nothing less than to “reoccupy” the same intellectual “positions” articulated by the Enlightenment. Through a formulation by Hans
Blumenberg, this process can be construed as the “reoccupation of
answer positions . . . whose corresponding questions could not be
eliminated.”29 Readers familiar with Blumenberg will note the irony of
using this formulation here, since Blumenberg advanced the reoccupation thesis to capture the specifically modern departure from the
Christian theological legacy. All the same, Blumenberg concedes that
“the modern phenomenon . . . of the reoccupation of vacant answer
positions is not bound specifically to the spiritual structure of this
epoch.”What is at stake, rather, is to understand how even “the sharpest
possible contradiction . . . is bound to the frame of reference of what it
renounces.” Seen through Blumenberg’s formulation, the denial by
Catholic scholars of the validity of modern secular concepts implicated them in the same kind of philosophical enterprise that produced
“Enlightenment” and its associated concepts in the first place.
Far from ad hoc, therefore, differentiating between “true” and
“false” Enlightenment and related concepts of secular rationalism was
crucial in the formation of the discourse of Catholicism. In responding to the Enlightenment, Catholics mastered a language and style of
criticism in ways that proved salutary in at least three ways: legitimizing scholarly praxis, managing anxiety over the “Catholic
Enlightenment,” and defining the cultural uniqueness of Catholicism
amid a clash of values.
(1) Legitimizing Scholarly Praxis
Differentiating between “true” and “false” Enlightenment served as
a way for Catholic scholars to legitimize their own scholarly praxis.
29
Hans Blumenberg, The Legitimacy of the Modern Age (Cambridge, MA, 1983),
p. 65.

36

TRUE AND FALSE ENLIGHTENMENT

Rooted in a much broader critique of secular science, condemnations
of the Enlightenment served to legitimate “Catholic science” as an
alternative to the so-called subjectivism, egoism, and individualism of
modern secular science. For Catholics, subjectivism was the “sin” that
led to Protestantism. With its preference for individual conscience
over church authority, Protestantism denied any real criteria for knowing things objectively.30 In science, this manifested itself in the
Cartesian theory of knowledge, the Kantian rejection of knowledge of
things themselves, and a conception of method that cleaved the perception of phenomena from other sources of knowledge and intuition. With very few exceptions, Catholic scholars rejected this view
of knowledge as an activity of the lone thinking subject struggling for
certainty in the face of unreliable sense perceptions. Instead, as
Hartnagel’s treatment shows especially clearly, they appealed to a
theory of knowledge stressing the hylomorphism between knower
and known based on an Aristotelian metaphysic of matter and form.
“False” Enlightenment was reductive insofar as it focused solely on the
“subject” of knowledge; “true” Enlightenment, by contrast, achieved
objective knowledge through the conformity of matter and form, content and its representation to the intellect.This rejection of a subjectivist theory of knowledge played a strong role in the renewal of
Aristotle studies and neo-Scholasticism in the second half of the nineteenth century.31 Far from merely continuing interconfessional wrangling, therefore, the critique of Enlightenment helped foster a different scholarly sensibility whose influence is still felt today.
To counter what they derided as the subjectivism of modern science, Catholic scholars stressed the formative role of tradition and
community in knowledge production. In “Thoughts on the Founding
of a Catholic Science,” the anonymous author blamed the outbreak of
revolution on the “absolutizing of the I.”As the genitive substructure
of “modern”society, subjectivism insinuated itself into society through
a variety of pathways, including science. He therefore proposed that
Catholic scholars unite in a campaign to establish a “Catholic Science”
to reinforce legitimate authority in state and society. Such a science
would reject the reduction of all knowledge to individual perception.
In contrast with the prevailing individual ethos “the organs of
Catholic Science will primarily shape themselves out of, and find the
30
Franz Anton Staudenmaier, Der Protestantismus in seinem Wesen und in seiner
Entwicklung (Freiburg im Breisgau, 1846).
31
Gerald A. McCool, The Neo-Thomists (Milwaukee,WI, 1994).

BY RICHARD SCHAEFER

37

condition of their efficacy in a Catholic folk.” As such, it will be cognizant of its roots in the community and “thrive in the exchange with
life, refining and clarifying it, drawing it unto itself, and in turn, being
inspired and embraced by it.”32 Science in the service of the community, rather than merely research, would curb the socially disintegrative potential of science and help Catholics restore the foundation for
objective values in modern society.This stress on the social function
of knowledge was closely related to the effort to found a Catholic university. At the 1863 General Meeting of Catholic Societies held in
Frankfurt, delegates listened to multiple speakers champion the cause
of a Catholic university to overcome the temptation of a “false ideal of
science” and train young scholars.33 Speakers included Johann Baptist
Heinrich, a coeditor of The Catholic, who defended religious freedom, the need for a Catholic press, and the rights of Catholic orders.
All of these freedoms, according to Heinrich, hinged on the fundamental right of Catholics to pursue “Catholic education and Catholic
Science.” For Heinrich:
There is a non-Catholic science and a Catholic science. Everything hinges
on what the highest principle of science is. If there is a God, then God is
the infinite truth and the highest principle of science; and if it pleases this
God (and it has so pleased him) to reveal himself personally to humanity,
because he is love . . . then this revelation is necessarily the highest light of
science.34

Once again, what is significant is not Heinrich’s commitment simply
to fight “non-Catholic” science with “Catholic science,” but rather his
commitment to staying squarely within the parameters set by science
itself. For Heinrich, the Church “must have the right to found, not just
merely primary schools, but also advanced schools for the highest
grade of science. . . .Then will we fight our opponents on the soil of
science.”35
(2) Managing Anxiety over the “Catholic Enlightenment”
Distinguishing “true” from “false” Enlightenment was also a way to
manage anxiety over the “Catholic Enlightenment.”That the Enlightenment had its share of Catholic followers is now a firmly established
32
“Gedanken über die Begründung einer katholischen Wissenschaft,”Historisch-politische Blätter für das katholische Deutschland, 21 (1848), 83–88, 175–79; here 177.
33
Verhandlungen der fünfzehnten, p. 79.
34
Verhandlungen der fünfzehnten, p. 91.
35
Verhandlungen der fünfzehnten, p. 92.

38

TRUE AND FALSE ENLIGHTENMENT

fact, but one that had to struggle against both Catholics and nonCatholics eager to deny this chapter of intellectual history.36 Among
the first to upset this consensus was Sebastien Merkle, who drew
attention to the “Catholic Enlightenment” in a series of lectures in
1909–10. For Merkle,“Catholic Enlightenment” was not to be regarded
as simply an imitation of its secular analogue, but referred to a variety
of late-eighteenth-century reform efforts aimed at mitigating baroque
piety and bringing Catholicism into better harmony with humanity’s
natural abilities.37 At the time, Catholics and non-Catholics alike
sharply criticized Merkle, wanting to deny this association with the
Enlightenment project, no matter how attenuated. In spite of his critics, Merkle’s view that Enlightenment be understood as a process
internal to Catholic history, rather than attributed to the spread of secular rationalism, has proven resilient and provided a valuable touchstone for subsequent research.
Merkle’s approach to the Catholic Enlightenment is especially
salient for understanding the internal dynamics of how nineteenthcentury Catholics related to their own immediate past. Their antipathy to the “Catholic Enlightenment” notwithstanding, nineteenth-century Catholics could hardly ignore such important reformers as Ignaz
Wessenberg and Johann Michael Sailer. Frequently attacked for their
openness to secular thought and the spirit of Enlightenment, these figures were nevertheless celebrated forerunners of the revival movement who could not be written out of its history. Unlike Anton
Gunther and Georg Hermes, Catholic philosophers whose embrace of
secular philosophy led to the condemnation of their works,
Wessenberg and Sailer were too highly placed in the Catholic hierarchy to be easily excluded from the fold. In view of this difficulty, distinguishing between “true” and “false” Enlightenment provided categories for accommodating these figures in a way that outright
condemnation could not do.
The importance of this can be illustrated by the example of Sailer,
professor at the University of Landshut and later bishop of Regensburg.
In 1873, Bishop Ignatius von Senestrey accused Sailer of heresy and
36
For a good discussion of the deeply ideological structuring Catholic reception of
the “Catholic Enlightenment,” see Harm Kleuting, Katholische Aufklärung, Aufklärung
im katholischen Deutschland (Hamburg, 1993).
37
Sebastian Merkle, “Die katholische Beurteilung des Aufklaerungszeitalters,” in
Ausgewaehlte Reden und Aufsaetze, ed.Theobald Freudenberger (Würzburg, 1965), pp.
361–413.

BY RICHARD SCHAEFER

39

asked Pope Pius IX to bring Sailer before the Congregation of the Index
and the Holy Roman and Universal Inquisition. Why did Senestrey
accuse Sailer of heresy forty-one years after his death? Part of the
answer involves the connection between Senestrey and the
Redemptorist Clemens Maria Hofbauer (1751–1820).38 In 1863 preparations were undertaken to pronounce Hofbauer holy. One obstacle,
however, was his 1817 letter that advised against making Sailer a bishop
and warned the pope that Sailer was “more dangerous than Martin
Luther.”The letter, which impugned both Sailer’s orthodoxy and character, was considered too vulgar and openly partisan to warrant pronouncing Hofbauer holy. Senestrey’s bid to have Sailer condemned,
therefore, was motivated by the idea that a posthumous conviction
would vindicate Hofbauer’s charges and put the letter in a new light.
The effort failed, in large part because Rome would have found it too
embarrassing to reconcile a condemnation with the fact that it had elevated Sailer to the rank of bishop. But part of the answer also stems
from the still potent anxiety generated by Sailer’s affiliation with the
Enlightenment. Although never a straightforward exponent of
Enlightenment, Sailer was ecumenical in borrowing ideas from Kant,
Johann Gottfried Herder, Friedrich Heinrich Jacobi, and even the
Protestant theologian Friedrich Christoph Öttinger. Like so many contemporaries, he was convinced that meaningful reform was possible if
institutions were brought into better harmony with people’s natural
abilities and thus devoted considerable attention to developing a critique of reason “for people as they really are.”39 It is not surprising, then,
that Senestrey’s complaint against Sailer was founded in large part on
his alleged affiliation with Enlightenment thinkers such as Jacobi,
Friedrich Nicolai, and Johann Caspar Lavater. Other motives notwithstanding, Senestrey’s charge can also be traced to an anxiety over
Enlightenment and the blurring of Catholic and secular boundaries.
The difficulty surrounding Sailer’s status is especially evident in his
treatment by later scholars. Here it is particularly instructive to read
Brück’s account of the “false” Enlightenment in “Catholic circles” in
the second edition of the Church-Lexicon. Brück blamed the spread
of Enlightenment on a combination of circumstances, including the
38
Hubert Wolf, “Der Fall Sailers vor der Inquisition: Eine posthume Anklageschrift
gegen den Theologen und Bischof aus dem Jahre 1873,” Zeitschrift fuer
Kirchengeschichte, 101 (1990), 344–70.
39
Johann Michael Sailer, Vernunftlehre für Menschen wie sie sind, d.i.Anleitung zur
Erkenntniss und Liebe der Wahrheit, 2nd ed. (München, 1795).

40

TRUE AND FALSE ENLIGHTENMENT

prevalence of Gallicanism, lax morals among the aristocracy, and
increased worldliness among the clergy. It was also due to the pretensions of scholars, however, who “diligently studied the works of
Protestant Enlighteners.”40 This willingness to blame scholars notwithstanding, in his summary of the Enlightenment in Bavaria, Brück
avoided mentioning Sailer and made a special point to observe that
“not all friends of the Enlightenment were enemies of the Church;
many of these were believers, who wanted to improve real or perceived abuses, admittedly without using the correct means. . . .” This
delicate exoneration of Sailer ensured that his intentions were
accorded the status of belonging to the “true Enlightenment,” even if
his actions were not.What is more, it made Sailer’s legacy available for
appropriation by Catholic Science in a selective way, exaggerating
points of orthodoxy and muting more challenging or controversial
dimensions of his thought.Thus it must be seen as more than a bid to
save certain “heroes” and rather as part of a discourse of Catholicism
aimed at constituting the ground of “Catholic scholarship” as an alternative to secular science. Before Brück’s efforts, an 1842 Der Katholik
article observed that Sailer’s legacy was to have fostered “Catholic
Science” against the “allure of Protestant science” and the superficialities of the Enlightenment, for “[n]o one understood better than Sailer
. . . that a false scientific principle is not content to remain in the
sphere of speculation, but strives unhaltingly to penetrate the lower
levels of human understanding and knowledge. . . .”41
(3) Defining the Cultural Uniqueness of Catholicism amid a
Clash of Values
Although differentiating among “true” and “false” Enlightenment,
and associated concepts such as science, progress, and freedom could
often degenerate into name-calling of the worst sort, this clash of
values also went beyond mere sloganeering as scholars sought to pinpoint the cultural uniqueness of Catholicism in a changing world. In
this context, it is striking how little Catholic opponents did to localize the Enlightenment as a specific intellectual or social reform movement in the eighteenth century. Focusing instead on the potency of
Enlightenment as a certain kind of thought, they construed it in connection with a wide variety of strands from intellectual history, includ40

Brück,“Aufklärung,” p. 1216.
“Sailer’s Verdienste um die katholische Wissenschaft,” Der Katholik, Zeitschrift für
katholische Wissenschaft und kirchliches Leben (Neue Folge) (1842), 251–52.
41

BY RICHARD SCHAEFER

41

ing gnosticism, pagan philosophy, Protestant reason, and rationalism.
By eliding historical specifics and talking about the Enlightenment as
though it stretched from the pre-Socratics to the present, scholars
underscored its potential as a continuing source of danger. But they
also created a space for elevating Catholicism to the level of its worldhistorical antidote.
As the negative image of a transhistorical Enlightenment, scholars
promoted a new appreciation of Catholicism’s civilizing mission: its
influence on “culture.” The most important example of this kind of
approach was undoubtedly François-René Chateaubriand’s The
Genius of Christianity, but German-language examples are not lacking. Ignaz von Wessenberg’s Considerations on the Most Important
Objects in the Education of Humanity sought to redress the feeling
of time out of control by retracing the steady evolution of human
improvement throughout key periods in history. A similar desire is
evident in The Principal Achievements of the Christian-Catholic
Church from the Ancient, Medieval and Recent Periods, in which
Binterim advanced the claim that “the Church of Christ is, today, yesterday, and for all time, one and the same.”42 The losses suffered during
the revolution, far from negating this postulate, only affirmed how the
Church remained the same in the midst of rapid change. For Binterim,
the “true Catholic is the only truly illuminated, enlightened, one,”
because that individual alone knew how to approach the “source of
light” (the Church) through faith. By stressing the Church’s foothold
outside of time, these works denied the growing cult of forward
motion and progress. But they also helped lay the basis for a renewed
appreciation of previous eras as resources still capable of fruitful cultivation and further progress in their own right. For Catholics, the two
chief candidates to serve as resources in this way were the patristic
period and the high Middle Ages, with the latter favored during the
second half of the century and the former during the first half. What
was essential, in either case, was to establish the legitimacy of the past
in itself as not lacking in any fundamental way, whether for
Enlightenment or any other modern virtue. In this regard Binterim
captured the dominant motif: “We do past ages a disservice when we
believe them to have been ruled by darkness.”43
42
Binterim, Die vorzueglichsten Denkwuerdigkeiten der Christ-katholischen
Kirche aus den ersten, mittleren und letzten Zeiten. Mit besonderer Ruecksichtnahme
auf die Disciplin der katholischen Kirche in Deutschland, p.VII.
43
Binterim, Die vorzueglichsten, p. XV.

42

TRUE AND FALSE ENLIGHTENMENT

Of course, although they were eager to rehabilitate the spirit of earlier ages, Catholic scholars were not blind to the fact that things had
changed. On the contrary, as the new editors of the important journal
The Catholic advocated in 1859, it was essential to refrain from lamenting a lost past and stay focused on the “most burning questions and
most basic needs of the present.”44 The motivation to reconnect with
earlier ages was not one of simple nostalgia, therefore, but because
scholars saw in this a legitimate and timely strategy for showing up the
deficiencies of modern ideas.To harvest the fruits of earlier ages, however, required a basis for transfer, a medium through which patristic
theology and Scholastic concepts could penetrate modern thought,
and not be cast as just so many anachronisms. In this context, the articulation of “true” Enlightenment (as with “true” science, progress,
democracy, and so on) was an attempt to construct such a medium, by
promoting a constellation of concepts that, if properly nurtured, could
accrue a distinctly Catholic meaning. Although easily dismissed by critics as just so much talk, this constellation was crucial as a way of forcing Catholics to articulate for themselves the nature and basis for their
participation in the modern world. In this regard, Catholic scholars
were doing something not unlike what Jonathan Sheehan has so brilliantly described as the “reconstitution” of the Bible as “a piece of heritage”during the Enlightenment.45 Although hardly willing to see themselves as translating a living creed into mere “culture,” the translation
of a Catholic past—itself quite literally still in Greek and Latin—into
the modern vernacular was nevertheless decisive in enabling Catholics
to see themselves as equal partners in the broad sweep of civilization.
In contrast with their sweeping generalizations about the whole of
civilization, German scholars were noticeably alone in their determination to differentiate between “true” and “false” Enlightenment.There
appears to have been no comparable attempt among either English or
French Catholic scholars to appropriate for themselves a “true”
Enlightenment. Neither Nicholas Wiseman nor Blessed Cardinal John
Henry Newman engaged in this kind of differentiation, and it does not
appear in the Dublin Review. It does appear once, in the article
“Religion and Modern Philosophy” in The Rambler, in which the
author affirms that “true science will never contradict the teachings of
44
J. B. Heinrich and Cristoph Moufang, “Vorwort,” Der Katholik, Zeitschrift für
katholische Wissenschaft und kirchliches Leben (Neue Folge), 1 (1859), 7.
45
Jonathan Sheehan, The Enlightenment Bible. Translation, Scholarship, Culture
(Princeton, 2005).

BY RICHARD SCHAEFER

43

Christianity.” But, aside from this reference, the article stays much more
firmly on the familiar terrain of debating the general merits of “true”
versus “false” religion.46 Similarly, there is no sustained differentiation
between “true” and “false” Enlightenment in the pages of either Felicité
de Lamennais’s The Future or Louis Veuillot’s The Universe. Indeed, as
with English debates, French discussions also seem more firmly preoccupied with defining true versus false religion than with appropriating the specific advantages of “true” Enlightenment. Thus it is
German scholars’ specific drive to appropriate and turn to their advantage “true” Enlightenment that stands out in the otherwise transnational Catholic revival, something that no doubt pertains to the confessional diversity of Germany in contrast with the near hegemony of
Catholicism in France and Anglicanism in England. Although more
heavily concentrated in the southern German territories, Catholics in
German-speaking Europe as a whole were a strong counterweight to
Protestants. In the nineteenth century, as Wolfgang Altgeld and others
have shown, Catholics were as eager as anyone to define for themselves a place in any future German nation-state.47 Under these circumstances, one possible explanation for German-Catholic efforts to
define and appropriate the “true” Enlightenment is that such creative
accommodation was culturally more advantageous than rejecting the
mainstream outright.This does not negate the claim that the discourse
of Catholicism was a transnational medium for staking a Catholic claim
in the modern world. Instead, it underscores the specific ways that this
discourse evolved under distinctly different circumstances.
Although limited to the German-speaking territories, the perspective developed here suggests a more general way of thinking about
Catholicism as part of—rather than apart from—modern society that
takes its cue from a new attitude toward religion emerging in the
humanities. Although still in development, this attitude has been
termed postsecular to capture the growing sense that religion is not
where history said it should be; history refers in this sense, not to the
actual past, but to what Jeffrey Cox has dubbed the “master narrative
of secularization.”48 Transcending empirical description, this narrative
46
Richard Simpson, “Religion and Modern Philosophy,” The Rambler, a Catholic
Journal of Home and Foreign Literature, 5 (1850), 189.
47
Wolfgang Altgeld,“Religion, Denomination and Nationalism in Nineteenth-Century
Germany,” in Protestants, Catholics and Jews in Germany, 1800–1914, ed. Helmut
Walser Smith (New York, 2001), pp. 49–65.
48
Jeffrey Cox, “Secularization and Other Master Narratives of Religion in Modern
Europe,” Kirchliche Zeitgeschichte, 14 (2001), 24–35.

44

TRUE AND FALSE ENLIGHTENMENT

structures the understanding of modernity according to the progressive and inevitable decline of religion and is often “deployed for political purposes to marginalize religion in the modern world.” Its continuing power notwithstanding, there are signs that a distinctly
postsecular sensibility is beginning to take root. There is, for one,
Jürgen Habermas’s recent concession that secularization has proven
insufficient as a way of grasping the course of religion in modern history.49 There is also the recent appearance of Political Theologies:
Public Religions in a Post-Secular World, a collection of essays by an
international group of scholars dissatisfied with the current state of
scholarly approaches to religion. In his introduction to the volume,
Hent de Vries cites the widespread inability to understand political
Islam today as only emblematic of a much larger paucity of resources
for understanding religion, and as evidence of the “need for a theoretical matrix that . . . has relevance for engagements of religion with
the political.”50 Although it remains to be seen whether postsecular
will serve as the most fruitful new rubric for conceiving of religion in
the modern world, it is certain that any revision of the master narrative of secularization must pay close attention to nineteenth-century
Catholicism. Indeed, if Catholicism “has been the paradigmatic form of
anti-modern public religion,” as José Casanova reminds us, then critically reassessing the still powerful image of Catholic backwardness
forged during that century must take first priority.51 In this context, a
welcome addition to the recent literature on Catholic revival is certainly the recent collection Culture Wars: Secular-Catholic Conflict in
the Nineteenth-Century Europe, which foregrounds how both sides
in the “secular-Catholic” conflict struggled for a viable self-understanding. Christopher Clark’s contribution stresses the fact that it was
“[c]ontemporary liberal and anticlerical publicists” who “framed the
culture wars as a struggle between ‘modernity’ and a reactionary,
backward-looking worldview that had no legitimate place in a
modern society.”52 Indeed, for Clark

49
Jürgen Habermas, “Die Dialektik der Säkularisierung,” Blätter für deutsche und
internationale Politik, 4 (2008), 33–46.
50
Hent de Vries,“Introduction: Before,Around, and Beyond the Theologico-Political,”
in Political Theologies: Public Religions in a Post-Secular World, ed. Hent de Vries and
Lawrence E. Sullivan (New York, 2006), pp. 1–88, here p. 5.
51
José Casanova, Public Religions in the Modern World (Chicago, 1994), p. 9.
52
Christopher Clark, “The New Catholicism and the European Culture Wars,” in
Culture Wars: Secular-Catholic Conflict in Nineteenth-Century Europe, ed. Christopher
Clark and Wolfram Kaiser (New York, 2003), pp. 11–46, here p. 12.

BY RICHARD SCHAEFER

45

the fundamental problem that faced all the great ideological formations of
late nineteenth-century Europe was not whether to embrace or reject
“modernity” but how best to respond to the challenges it posed.The relationship between the New Catholicism and its various antagonists should
thus rather be seen in terms of competing programmes for the management of rapid political and social change.53

Whether the nineteenth-century Catholic revival served as the
jumping off point for a “New Catholicism,” as Clark suggests, is uncertain, for this stress on radical disjuncture might, in turn, shortchange
the ways in which Catholics reflexively forged continuity with tradition that were so central to their identity (e.g., cult of miracles, neoScholasticism). In addition, reversing binaries in this instance (backward/modern) unduly preserves a hierarchy that needs to be
rethought. Therefore, it seems more reasonable to focus less on the
“newness” of either Catholicism or modernity in favor of exploring
the stakes involved in the co-constitution of Catholicism and modernity as such. From this perspective, the significance of German
Catholic efforts to distinguish “true” from “false” Enlightenment is not
whether they got it right or wrong—as a marker of their progress—
but their overriding belief that they could be both Catholic and
modern in their own way.

53

Clark,“The New Catholicism,” p. 13.

THE HISTORICAL METHODOLOGY OF
JOHN TRACY ELLIS
BY

C.WALKER GOLLAR*

John Tracy Ellis, the dean of American Catholic historians of the
mid- to late-twentieth century, never published a treatise on historical methodology, but did write about the subject when faced with
the most difficult challenge of his academic career. In 1960, David
Francis Sweeney, Ellis’s student at The Catholic University of
America, unearthed allegations that John Lancaster Spalding,
bishop of Peoria, had conducted a sexual affair for nearly twenty
years. In numerous letters, Ellis and Sweeney agonized about how
to handle this information. Neither Ellis nor Sweeney believed the
accusation was true, but both recognized that it had influenced
Spalding’s career, which was the focus of Sweeney’s dissertation.
Ellis concluded that Spalding’s story should not be told in full, yet
set the stage for future historians not only to revisit Spalding’s
career but also to explore Ellis’s deliberations, and thus to reconsider what he routinely had encouraged—telling the whole truth.
Keywords: Ellis, Monsignor John Tracy; Spalding, Bishop John
Lancaster; Sweeney, David Francis, O.F.M.
In spring 1950 John Tracy Ellis met David Francis Sweeney. A fortyfour-year-old priest from the Diocese of Winona, Minnesota, Ellis had
been teaching American Catholic history for about eight years at The
Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. A twenty-eightyear-old Franciscan priest, Sweeney had just completed his MA in
library science from Holy Name College in Washington, DC, and was
working at the reference desk at Catholic University’s Mullen Library.
Ellis encouraged Sweeney to enroll in Catholic University’s doctoral
program in church history.That summer Sweeney sent a copy of his
master’s thesis, “A Survey of Catholic Americana and Catholic Book
Publishing in the United States, 1831–1840,” to Ellis. The attached
*Dr. Gollar is associate professor of theology at Xavier University in Cincinnati.

46

BY C.WALKER GOLLAR

47

cover letter was the first of more than 300 pieces of correspondence
that these men would exchange over the next forty years.
Sweeney began doctoral studies in fall 1950 under Ellis’s direction.
By the time of Sweeney’s graduation, Ellis had become, as he is now
widely acclaimed to be, the dean of American Catholic historians of
the mid- to late-twentieth century. Ellis certainly was a prolific writer
and a popular speaker. Above and beyond his many publications, however, Ellis’s fundamental approach to history might be better revealed
in his private correspondence.The vast majority of the Ellis-Sweeney
letters wrestled with what Ellis called the most difficult challenge of
his academic career—namely, the treatment of some delicate material
that Sweeney had unearthed concerning the life of John Lancaster
Spalding, bishop of Peoria.This article is not primarily about Spalding
or that delicate material, but focuses instead on the deliberations
around that delicate material. Especially when situated amidst the
broader context of Ellis’s career, these deliberations reveal how one
extremely prominent and influential historian approached history.1
Spalding, Peoria’s first bishop, inspired Ellis from an early age.
Spalding suffered a career-ending stroke in August 1905 and passed
away in 1916. Born on July 30, 1905, in Seneca, located in the Diocese
of Peoria, Ellis never saw Spalding in person. Yet Ellis’s mother, who
had been confirmed by Spalding, commonly spoke of him, as did
many neighbors of the Ellis family. Spalding also was widely acclaimed
at St. Viator’s Academy and College in nearby Bourbonnais, Illinois.
Ellis studied there from 1921 to 1927. Ellis learned more about
Spalding at Catholic University, which granted Ellis a PhD in medieval
history in 1930. Ellis then taught briefly at St. Viator’s College before
he took a position in 1932 at the College of St. Teresa in Winona,
Minnesota.
1
Located in the Archives of The Catholic University of America (hereafter referred
to as ACUA), Ellis’s files include 121 letters from Sweeney to Ellis. After both men died,
Sweeney’s saved correspondence from Ellis was sent to ACUA.This collection included
approximately 139 pieces of correspondence, the overwhelming majority of which
was from Ellis to Sweeney. Of all the Ellis-Sweeney correspondence in ACUA, most
relates directly to the dissertation (including its publication and aftermath) and extends
to the early 1970s. After this time, correspondence continued, but sporadically, with the
last letter written by Ellis to Sweeney on December 31, 1991, nearly eleven months
before Ellis’s death. Although some letters undoubtedly were lost over time, none
apparently seem to be missing. Both men generally were prompt respondents (except
in some notable cases mentioned later) and certainly were excellent curators of their
own history.

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THE HISTORICAL METHODOLOGY OF JOHN TRACY ELLIS

Although busy teaching various courses at the College of St.Teresa,
Ellis published one short yet significant article at this time that
revealed his early approach to history. While other Catholics, including Pope Pius XI, were commemorating the fortieth anniversary of
Rerum Novarum, Pope Leo XIII’s 1891 social encyclical, Ellis in late
1933 also drew attention to “Another Anniversary.” Fifty years ago, as
Ellis wrote, the Vatican was under assault for intervening too much in
Italian affairs.According to Pope Leo, however, this critique had been
based on a distortion of history. In a public letter written on August
18, 1883, Leo called for better understanding of the past.“The authentic records of History,” Leo wrote,“when considered with a mind calm
and free from prejudices, are in themselves a magnificent and spontaneous apology for the Church and the Pontificate.”A true accounting
of history, Leo believed, would thus exonerate the Church.2
Ardent, courageous, and confident historians were desperately
needed, insisted Leo. He implored these new scholars to follow
Cicero’s mandate “to dread uttering falsehood” and “not to fear stating
the truth.” As a means of encouraging this kind of scholarship, Leo
next announced that the Vatican Archives would be opened to scholars. History had thus been enlisted to serve the Church and also
invoked to promote the truth. Clearly inspired by Leo’s association of
history with the truth, Ellis vowed to be honest in what lay before him
in his academic life.With the understanding that his career would primarily take place in higher education, Ellis decided in 1934 to study
for the priesthood for the Diocese of Winona. He returned to Catholic
University, lived in the Sulpician Seminary, and taught history. On June
5, 1938,Winona Bishop Francis M. Kelly ordained Ellis in the chapel at
the College of St.Teresa.3
After teaching for a few more years as an instructor in history at
the Catholic University, Ellis was offered the chair of retiring American
Catholic historian Peter Guilday in summer 1941.The founder of The
Catholic Historical Review and the American Catholic Historical
2
“Letter of Our Most Holy Father Leo XIII, by Divine Providence Pope to the
Cardinals of the Holy Roman Church, Antonine de Luca, Vice-Chancellor of the Holy
Roman Church, John Baptist Pitra, Librarian of the Holy Roman Church, and Joseph
Hergenroether, Prefect of the Vatican Archives” (English translation of Saepenumero
considerantes, August 18, 1883), Tablet, LXII, p. 321 (qtd. in John Tracy Ellis,“Another
Anniversary,” Commonweal, February 2, 1934, p. 378).
3
“Letter of Our Most Holy Father Leo XIII,” p. 322 (qtd. in Ellis,“Another Anniversary,”
p. 379).

BY C.WALKER GOLLAR

49

Association, Guilday had promoted modern American Catholic historical scholarship more than any person of his generation. Guilday,
moreover, had trained many students, including Ellis, in the critical
examination of historical texts.
Such a critical examination had been criticized in the 1907 papal
condemnation of what was called modernism. In the wake of this
condemnation, priest-scholar Umberto Benigni of Rome had organized an unofficial group of censors who employed clandestine and
often overzealous means to expose suspect thinkers. Numerous
Catholic scholars in Western Europe and the United States were
attacked. At the same time, lingering anti-Catholic assaults prompted
Catholic thinkers to come to the Church’s defense. As a result, significant Catholic research all but came to a standstill, while the job of the
historian was largely reduced to producing the occasional proof text
for orthodox theological positions. Guilday, like other Catholic intellectuals, consequently enhanced, sometimes glorified, but rarely challenged the reputation of the American Catholic Church.4
By the 1940s, Ellis reported that the “witchhunt tactics” of Benigni
had subsided, even though a climate of fear still stifled Catholic intel4
Concerning Guilday, see Ellis, “Peter Guilday, March 25, 1884–July 31, 1947,” The
Catholic Historical Review, 33 (1947), 265–67; and David O’Brien,“Peter Guilday: The
Catholic Intellectual in the Post-Modernist Church,” in Studies in Catholic History in
Honor of John Tracy Ellis, ed. Nelson H. Minnich, Robert B. Eno, and Robert F. Trisco
(Wilmington, DE, 1985), pp. 260–306. On modernism and postmodernism, see Scott
Appelby, Church and Age Unite! The Modernist Impulse in American Catholicism
(Notre Dame, 1992). For reviews of American Catholic historiography, including the
contributions of Guilday and other scholars, see Henry J. Browne,“American Catholic
History:A Progress Report on Research and Study,” Church History, 26 (1957), 372–80;
David J. O’Brien, “American Catholic Historiography: A Post-Conciliar Evaluation,”
Church History, 37 1 (1968), 80–94; John Tracy Ellis,“The Ecclesiastical Historian in the
Service of Clio,” Church History, 38 (1969), 106–20; Moses Rischin,“The New American
Catholic History,” Church History, 41 (1972), 225–29; Jay P. Dolan,“A Critical Period in
American Catholicism,” Review of Politics, 35 (1973), 523–36; James Hennesey,“Church
History and the Theologians,” U.S. Catholic Historian, 6 (1987), 1–12; Martin E. Marty,
“Is There a Mentalité in the American Catholic House?”, U.S. Catholic Historian, 6
(1987), 13–23; J. Douglas Thomas,“A Century of American Catholic History,”U.S. Catholic
Historian, 6 (1987), 25–49; Jay P. Dolan, “The Immigrants and Their Gods: A New
Perspective in American Religious History,” Church History, 57 (1988), 61–72; James M.
Woods, rev. of The Encyclopedia of American Catholic History, ed. Michael Glazier and
Thomas J. Shelley, in Journal of Southern History 66 (2000), 177–79; Paula Kane,
“Review Essay: American Catholic Studies at a Crossroads,” Religion and American
Culture, 16 (2006), 263–71.

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THE HISTORICAL METHODOLOGY OF JOHN TRACY ELLIS

lectual life. Ellis nonetheless assumed Guilday’s position, including his
role as editor of The Catholic Historical Review. Ellis then shored up
his knowledge of American Catholic history. Although Guilday (and
others) had taught Ellis the tools of the historian, Ellis would get to
know the American Catholic story largely on his own.5
In the manuscript collection of the University of Notre Dame
Archives, Ellis found two letters that would test his early commitment
to promoting truth in history. In the first letter, on November 11,
1857, seventeen-year-old seminarian Spalding had reported to his
mother that he had received a “very interesting” letter from his
second cousin, Josephine “Josie” Spalding. Spalding did not say what
had made Josie’s letter so interesting. Josie’s letter does not survive,
and Spalding never again mentioned it. Only once more did Spalding
refer to Josie in any surviving correspondence. Four and a half months
after his ordination, Spalding, in the second letter found by Ellis, wrote
to his parents on May 3, 1864, asking them to congratulate Josie on
her forthcoming marriage. Spalding added that he would never forget
Josie, for she was one of those rare “true friends.”6
In 1944 Ellis published in The Catholic Historical Review parts
of these and other pieces of Spalding’s correspondence in the article “Some Student Letters of John Lancaster Spalding.” But the documents were not reproduced exactly as written. In the published
version, only a brief part of the 1857 letter that did not include the
reference to Josie was cited.With regard to this 1857 letter, the article in no way suggested that it had included the entire document.
The article did purport to reproduce the entire 1864 letter, however, in which Spalding described Josie as a rare, true friend. But the
lines referring to Josie did not appear. (Also absent were seven
other lines immediately following the reference that did not pertain
to Josie. In these seven lines, Spalding thanked his sister, Kate, for
writing a letter; explained that he would leave a portrait of Kate
and himself with a host family in Belgium; and promised to say Mass
5

Ellis, A Commitment to Truth (Latrobe, PA, 1966), p. 51.
John Lancaster Spalding to Mary Jane Lancaster Spalding, November 11, 1857,
Emmitsburg; and John Lancaster Spalding to R. M. Spalding and M. J. L. Spalding, May 3,
1864, Louvain, Belgium, Archives of the University of Notre Dame. Josie received a
number of marriage proposals before she married Edward P. Fontaine on June 22, 1864.
See H. C. Lancaster to Samuel Spalding, November 28, 1858, Philadelphia (photostat),
RG—SCH VIII Boxes I–4 Kentucky, Calvary, Holy Mary’s on the Rolling Fork, Archives of
the Sisters of Loretto.
6

BY C.WALKER GOLLAR

51

for his young relatives who were soon to make their First
Communion.)7
Who removed the lines from the 1864 letter is uncertain.The lines
do not fall at a logical breaking point on Spalding’s stationery. The
change nonetheless may have been the result of some unexplained
clerical or printing error. Yet Ellis never corrected this supposed error
in his various subsequent publications on Spalding and evidently never
referred to this matter in his private correspondence. That the only
error of the thirteen letters reproduced in the article happened to fall
on material that included Spalding’s reference to a close female friend,
a matter that some clerics may have considered problematic, seems to
suggest deliberate editing. Perhaps the Notre Dame archivist, Holy
Cross priest Thomas McAvoy, had not given Ellis the complete letter.
But Ellis’s reference in his footnotes to the 1864 letter is “Photostat [or
early photographic copy], AUND.” Among Ellis’s research material in
the Catholic University Archives a photostat of the 1864 letter remains
to this day, presumably the photostat footnoted in the article. McAvoy
must have sent this copy of the entire letter to Ellis.8
Ellis, therefore, appears to be the likely editor of the 1864 letter.
Throughout his subsequent research into Spalding, Ellis demonstrated
extremely meticulous and conscientious consideration of all evidence, especially matters that might be perceived to be of a salacious
manner. Ellis sometimes deliberately withheld certain information and
even publicly admitted to it. For example, when later reflecting on the
early portion of his career, Ellis justified altering the historical record
for some greater good.“There are intimate matters in the life of every
man and woman,” Ellis wrote,
that should remain untold, whether the motive for such concealment rises
from personal sensitivity, the wish to shield others from pain or embarrassment, or from a general sense of decency and what might be
7
See Ellis,“Some Student Letters of John Lancaster Spalding,” The Catholic Historical
Review, 29 (1944), 510–39. The two letters to Spalding’s parents mentioned above,
along with two other letters written to his parents and referred to, but not cited in full,
by Ellis, remain in the manuscript collection of the Archives of the University of Notre
Dame. Ellis cited a brief portion of one other formerly published letter from Spalding
to John De Néve (rector of the American College of Louvain) from March 1882.All the
other letters apparently cited in full were found in the Baltimore Cathedral Archives.
8
See Ellis’s relevant research files in Monograph Research, Correspondence, &
Reviews (1955–1984), Box 33, John Tracy Ellis Papers 1810 (1896–1992) 1992 (hereafter referred to as ACUA: JTEP),ACUA.

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THE HISTORICAL METHODOLOGY OF JOHN TRACY ELLIS

described, for want of a better expression, the fitness of things. A fundamental fidelity to the demands of objectivity and thoroughness is not sacrificed with a consequent marring of the historical record, so long as
occurrences of a really significant character are not withheld.

Ellis must have heard the rumors that circulated during Spalding’s lifetime and for years thereafter concerning Spalding’s curious relationship with women. Ellis probably chose to avoid adding to the rumors
by releasing information that the young Spalding had a rare, true,
female friend. In Ellis’s mind, removing what appeared to be innocent
remarks about a cousin would not change the substance of history,
but might spare an esteemed bishop from unwarranted muckraking.
(Why Ellis may have omitted the other seven lines is not clear.)9
Never acknowledging his likely editing of the 1864 letter, Ellis
became engrossed with Spalding’s leading role in the founding of
Catholic University. After three years of research, Ellis published The
Formative Years of the Catholic University of America (Washington,
DC,1946).Shortly thereafter Ellis explained that “the heart of [this book]
. . . was in good measure Spalding’s long, difficult, and inspiring struggle
to found an institution for the higher education of the American clergy
that would be worthy of the name.” Spalding’s vision certainly had
inspired early discussions about the university, but his influence faded as
the institution neared opening. Especially after Spalding had refused the
position of the university’s first rector (an appointment that most bishops supported and that most onlookers assumed Spalding would take),
Spalding effectively dropped out of the story and virtually disappeared
from Ellis’s text. Spalding did raise money for the university and spoke at
the May 24, 1888, laying of the cornerstone (both briefly noted by Ellis),
but Spalding was conspicuously absent from the large contingent of dignitaries attending the opening ceremony on November 13, 1889. Yet
Ellis offered no explanation for Spalding’s disappearance. Moreover, Ellis
completely avoided any discussion of Spalding’s relationship to the university’s primary benefactor, Mary “Mamie” Gwendoline Caldwell. Ellis
did not mention the fact that Caldwell, like Spalding, was not present at
the university’s opening and did not broach the embarrassing fact that
Mamie eventually left the Catholic Church.10
9
Ellis,“Fragments from My Autobiography, 1905–1942,” Review of Politics, 6 (1974),
574–75, emphasis added.
10
Ellis,“Right Reverend Monsignor John Tracy Ellis,” The Book of Catholic Authors,
ed. Walter Romig (Detroit, 1957), V:84. Also see Ellis, The Formative Years of the
Catholic University of America (Washington, DC, 1946), pp. 75–76.

BY C.WALKER GOLLAR

53

Ellis moved on to other research projects and forged new ground
in historical scholarship, but did not always receive support from
bishops.While Ellis worked on a biography of Cardinal James Gibbons
of Baltimore, one bishop asked,“How is the life of Gibbons coming?”
Ellis responded, “Pretty well; that is the eighth chapter there on the
desk.” Another bishop then asked, “How many chapters are there
going to be?” Ellis answered, “About twenty-eight.” “Well, it is a nice
hobby,” chided Patrick A. O’Boyle, the archbishop of Washington and
the chancellor of Catholic University. Ellis was beside himself. He was
further enraged on another occasion when he overheard the university rector, Bishop Bryan J. McEntegart, whisper to a visiting archbishop from South Africa,“This fellow [Ellis] writes books.”With this
remark, the rector might have been simply playful or somehow
humorous, but the thin-skinned Ellis understood him to be contemptuous. Ellis remembered these remarks for years, regularly lamenting
that so few church leaders valued historical scholarship.11
When authority was beginning to be questioned anew, especially
in the 1950s, Ellis pioneered a more candid approach to the past. He
generally was described as liberal, while much of his work was heralded for its sensitive and sometimes courageous exposition of delicate matters. Ellis typically explained that he had aimed only to bring
as much candor and objectivity as he could to a given subject. To illustrate his approach, Ellis regularly cited the words of a Dominican,
Jean-Baptiste Lacordaire, who once proclaimed, “Truth, when discreetly told, is an inestimable boon to mankind, and to suppress it,
especially in history, is an act of cowardice unworthy of a Christian.”
Ellis was by no means a philosophical thinker who developed any systematic approach to history. At the same time, as a former student,
Monsignor Thomas J. Shelley, recently attested, if Ellis promoted any
“overarching theme,” it was “the need for honesty in the Church.”12
11
Ellis to Sweeney, January 23, 1961, Box 2, Correspondence to Sweeney,ACUA: JTEP.
Also see Ellis, The Life of James Cardinal Gibbons, Archbishop of Baltimore,
1834–1921 (Milwaukee, 1952).
12
Ellis, Foreword to Gerald P. Fogarty, The Vatican and the American Hierarchy
from 1870 to 1965 (Collegeville, MN, 1982), pp. xi–xiv, here p. xii [rpt. in Ellis,“Why
Study History?”, Texas Catholic Historical Society, 1, no. 1 (1990), p. 5]; and Thomas J.
Shelley, “Not Whispering in the Footnotes: John Tracy Ellis and American Catholic
History,” American Catholic Studies, 115, no. 2 (2004), 19. Also see Ellis, Faith and
Learning: A Church Historian’s Story, [Melville Studies in Church History, vol. 1],
(Lanham, MD, 1989), pp. 76–77; Eugene C. Bianchi,“A Church Historian’s Personal Story:
An Interview with Monsignor John Tracy Ellis Conducted by Eugene C. Bianchi,”
Records of the American Catholic Historical Society of Philadelphia, 92 (1981), 26;

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THE HISTORICAL METHODOLOGY OF JOHN TRACY ELLIS

Such outspokenness sometimes outraged bishops. A number of
church leaders who had grown up amid the anti-Catholic crusades of
the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth century contended that telling
the Church’s story in an open and honest way only gave consolation
to the enemy. Cardinal Edward Mooney of Detroit once asked Ellis if
he were “one of these frank guys”who published everything he heard.
Cardinal William O’Connell of Boston put it more bluntly.“Does one
have to go to the backhouse to get history? The Church is a sacred
thing,” O’Connell added,“. . . treat her reverently.” Ellis understood this
admonition to mean that his work should only praise and never
damage the Church. Any critical approach to history surely would
seem to be out of the question. Ellis clearly rejected this position, frequently denouncing it as the history of “moonlight and roses.”13
Another former student, Archbishop Oscar H. Lipscomb of Mobile,
hailed Ellis’s Life of James Cardinal Gibbons (Milwaukee, 1952) for
its “honest treatment of sensitive material [which] set a new standard
for ecclesiastical history.” With less enthusiasm, one unnamed archbishop threatened to destroy the papers of his predecessors to thwart
candid biographers like Ellis. Qualifying the extent of Ellis’s truth
telling, Reverend Monsignor Robert Trisco, a historian, later explained
that Ellis had limited his critique of Gibbons to a concluding chapter
and thus had failed to incorporate a critical attitude throughout the
work. As Trisco suggested, Ellis’s move to more balanced scholarship
sometimes was incomplete, limited to some extent by his veneration
of certain church leaders. Ellis nonetheless surely authored a new
approach that was carried on by his graduate students.14

Bruce Lambert,“Msgr. John Tracy Ellis, 87, Dies; Dean of U.S. Catholic Historians,” New
York Times, October 17, 1992, p. 15; Christopher Kauffman,“Ecclesial Genealogy—John
Tracy Ellis and James Gibbons,” Records of the American Catholic Historical Society of
Philadelphia, 104 (1993), 1; and Thomas J. Shelley,“The Last Word:‘God does not need
our lies,’ [on John Tracy Ellis],” Commonweal, April 7, 1995, p. 31. Perhaps Ellis’s bestknown liberal act concerned his leaving Catholic University in 1963, a story that he
tells in Faith and Learning (p. 55 et passim).
13
Ellis, Faith and Learning, p. 41; and Ellis,“Fragments from My Autobiography,” p.
588. Ellis had similarly summarized earlier attitudes of church leaders toward historical
scholarship in “The Ecclesiastical Historian in the Service of Clio,” p. 110. On O’Connell,
see Ellis, Faith and Learning, pp. 38–39; and Catholic Bishops, pp. 67–77. For an
overview of relevant anti-Catholic crusades, see James Hennesey, American Catholics:
A History of the Roman Catholic Community in the United States (New York, 1981),
esp. pp. 234–53.
14
Oscar H. Lipscomb, “Ellis, John Tracy (1905–92),” in Encyclopedia of American
Catholic History, ed. Michael Glazier and Thomas J. Shelley (Collegeville, MN, 1997),

BY C.WALKER GOLLAR

55

Under Ellis’s tutelage, Sweeney completed the required coursework
for Catholic University’s doctoral studies in church history in fall 1952.
Ellis then suggested that Sweeney write his dissertation on Spalding.
Sweeney knew little about Spalding and had no special attraction to
him, but, out of respect for Ellis, agreed to the topic.Yet Sweeney soon
grew discouraged. One tradition claimed that Spalding’s chancellor
and confidant, Monsignor Francis O’Reilly, had destroyed Spalding’s
papers shortly after Spalding’s death. Another source asserted that
Spalding “always tore up his correspondence and many of his excellent
sermons would find their way to the wastepaper basket.” Moreover,
McAvoy, the archivist at Notre Dame, told Sweeney that the archives
had several Spalding letters, but that McAvoy was “sitting on them” for
the time being. Much to Sweeney’s dismay, McAvoy proposed that at a
later date “we might be able to make a trade.” The rivalry that had
arisen between McAvoy and Ellis, and between Notre Dame and
Catholic University’s graduate programs in Catholic history, was perhaps reflected in McAvoy’s proposition of a trade.15
Sweeney’s perfectionism, frail health, overly sensitive temperament, and growing responsibilities with the Franciscans stalled further research. In fall 1953 Sweeney was transferred to a new house at
St. Francis College in Rye Beach, New Hampshire. He was assigned to
teach, serve as librarian, and organize the house. He also promised
somehow to find time for research. But Sweeney was unable to produce much over the next three academic years. Meanwhile, Ellis delivered “American Catholics and the Intellectual Life,” an address that

p. 487. Concerning the unnamed, threatening archbishop, see Ellis,“The Ecclesiastical
Historian in the Service of Clio,” p. 112.Also see Trisco,“Ellis on Gibbons,” Symposia on
John Tracy Ellis, Records of the American Catholic Historical Society of Philadelphia,
104 (1993), 4–7; and Trisco, Obit. of John Tracy Ellis, The Catholic Historical Review, 79
(1993), 162.Trisco succeeded Ellis as editor of The Catholic Historical Review.
15
Bergan to Ellis, Omaha, July 3, 1962, ACUA: JTEP; and Sweeney to Ellis, November
21, 1952, Chicago, Box 7, CFS, ACUA: JTEP. As was true with Sweeney, Ellis periodically
took a very active role in determining the course of doctoral studies. See, for example,
Mary Jo Weaver,“John Tracy Ellis,” Records of the American Catholic Historical Society
of Philadelphia, 104 (1993), 8. Sweeney referred to O’Reilly’s alleged destruction of
Spalding’s papers several times in Sweeney’s correspondence, making it most explicit
in Sweeney to John Lancaster Spalding (relative of the bishop), New York, February 13,
1979, Box 2, Returned CFS (hereafter referred to as RCFS), ACUA: JTEP. Concerning
McAvoy, see Richard Gribble, “Thomas T. McAvoy, CSC: Historian, Archivist and
Educator,” American Catholic Studies, 115, no. 1 (2004), 25–43; and Philip Gleason,
“Thomas T. McAvoy, C.S.C.: Some Informal Reflections,” American Catholic Studies,
115, no. 4 (2004), 59–68.

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THE HISTORICAL METHODOLOGY OF JOHN TRACY ELLIS

used history to challenge the Catholic community to higher intellectual aspirations. Effectively heeding this call, in fall 1956 Sweeney
finally delivered a draft of chapter 1 of the dissertation. Ellis was
impressed by the research, but otherwise noted “serious defects” in
both content and style. Ellis could be a meticulous reviewer, even correcting grammatical errors in Sweeney’s correspondence.16
Early in 1957 Ellis reported that Sweeney was slowly bringing to
light various “difficulties” with which Spalding’s life was “bristling.”
Ellis did not specify any of these difficulties yet explained that “only a
surface treatment of certain episodes can be given.”Sweeney was conducting his research fully and honestly, and surely would meet the
requirements for the PhD, yet Ellis added that,“we will want to exercise careful judgment as to the prudence of publishing certain matters.” One matter that especially concerned Ellis was Sweeney’s treatment of Catholic University benefactors Mamie and Lina Caldwell. On
February 27 Sweeney interviewed Lina’s son, sixty-year-old Waldemar
Conrad von Zedwitz. Sweeney and von Zedwitz discussed the defection of von Zedwitz’s mother and aunt from Catholicism, and their
apparent estrangement from Spalding. After this conversation
Sweeney considered taking a topical approach so that difficult
chronological matters might be carefully sidestepped.17
Sweeney’s sister died in October 1957, and the research again
stopped. In mid-February 1958 Ellis encouraged Sweeney to resume
his work, and in late March Sweeney was invigorated by reading
Spalding’s courageous testimony on behalf of workers’ rights.
Sweeney declared, “What a wonderful man in spite of the Caldwells!”
Now that his personal life had settled down, Sweeney vowed to get
16
Ellis to Sweeney, October 8, 1956, Catholic University, Box 2, RCFS, ACUA: JTEP.
Ellis’s address, which proved to be the most famous of his career, was initially read on
May 14, 1955, as a paper at the annual meeting of the Catholic Commission on
Intellectual and Cultural Affairs at Maryville College, St. Louis. It was later published in
Thought, 30 (1955), 351–88.
17
John Tracy Ellis to Sr. Evangela (Henthorne), January 7, 1957, Box 2, RCFS, ACUA:
JTEP. Concerning Henthorne’s research on Spalding, see Mary Evangela Henthorne,“The
Career of the Right Reverend John Lancaster Spalding, Bishop of Peoria” (PhD dissertation, University of Illinois, 1930); Mary Evangela, “Bishop Spalding’s Work on the
Anthracite Coal Strike Commission,” The Catholic Historical Review, 28 (1942),
184–205; and Mary Evangela Henthorne, The Irish Catholic Colonization Association
of the United States: Its Origin and Development under the Leadership of the Rt. Rev.
John Lancaster Spalding, Bishop of Peoria, President of the Association, 1879–1892
(Champaign, IL, 1932).

BY C.WALKER GOLLAR

57

back to business. He did some work over the next sixteen months, but
by July 1959, his studies had slipped again amid the many concerns of
his life. On October 1, Ellis wrote a stern letter pointing out that nine
years had passed since Sweeney had begun the doctoral program.
Although concerned for Sweeney’s welfare, Ellis nonetheless firmly
declared, “I do not have to explain to you the importance of John
Lancaster Spalding for the history of American Catholicism in the late
nineteenth and early twentieth centuries; you probably know that
better than any of us now.”18
Sweeney apologized for his lack of productivity, briefly noting that
his mother had recently died. (His father would also soon fall gravely
ill.) Sweeney nonetheless vowed to press on. “There is no man who
knows more about JLS than I do,” Sweeney declared to Ellis.“I’ve lived
with him for the last six (9?) years.”Sweeney worked hard the next few
weeks and made plans to visit Ellis in November. For the visit, Ellis
advised Sweeney to leave time for lunch or dinner so that they could,
as Ellis liked to do, catch up on professional gossip. Many of Ellis’s letters, the majority of which were addressed to fellow priests, passed on
church scuttlebutt. After reading formal lectures to his students, Ellis
would similarly extemporize on salacious matters that he had heard.
Ellis would also work revealing material into his public lectures and
publications (especially those works of an autobiographical nature)—
sometimes, but not always, keeping implicated parties unnamed.
Telling tales out of school was not altogether uncommon in Ellis’s clerical world. In Catholic circles at that time there was virtually no other
acceptable means of speaking of less-than-edifying Catholic matters.19
In early January 1960, Ellis requested that a contact in Italy, Anton
Debevec, be granted special permission to copy any Spalding material
housed in the Propaganda Fide Archives in Rome. Up to 1908 the
Propaganda Fide oversaw the Catholic Church in the United States.
Like virtually all other secular and religious archives, the Propaganda
18
Sweeney to Ellis, March 27, 1958, Rye Beach, Folder S, Box 10, Correspondence
from Sweeney (hereafter referred to as CFS),ACUA: JTEP; and Ellis to Sweeney, October
1, 1959, Catholic University, Box 2, RCFS. Spalding’s testimony for workers’ rights was
delivered before the House Labor Committee in Spalding’s role as one arbiter of the
1904 anthracite coal strike.
19
Sweeney to Ellis, October 3, 1959, Rye Beach, Folder S, Box 10, CFS, ACUA: JTEP.
Also see Ellis to Sweeney (postcard), October 29, 1959, Box 2, RCFS.After an extended
period of illness, Sweeney’s father passed away on January 11, 1965. Concerning Ellis’s
penchant to gossip, see Weaver,“John Tracy Ellis,” pp. 8–9.

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THE HISTORICAL METHODOLOGY OF JOHN TRACY ELLIS

Fide Archives at that time did not release personal documents until seventy-five years, or a full generation, after an individual’s death. In the
case of Spalding, this would mean 1991.The dearth of Spalding documents in the United States nonetheless prompted Ellis to ask for a special dispensation. Ellis secured the support of John B. Franz, then the
bishop of Peoria, and wrote to Rome.“Needless to say,” Ellis explained,
should these documents contain any material of a damaging character to
contemporaries of Bishop Spalding, material that would require great prudence in its use, Father David [Sweeney] has assured me that such will be
guarded very carefully so that there will be no disclosures of information
that should be kept secret.

By March, permission had been granted to microfilm the Spalding
materials—an extraordinary concession. In late August the first batch
of material arrived from Rome.20
These documents came from the latter period of Spalding’s episcopacy (1893 to 1908) and included correspondence from Lina
Caldwell.“[T]he whole story is there,” Sweeney reported, and it is not
“pleasant.” At first, Ellis suggested that he and Sweeney discuss the
documents in person. In the meantime, Ellis instructed Sweeney to
“[t]ell the story as fully as you feel it is necessary in order to understand JLS—taking care to state ‘delicate’ matters in a ‘delicate’ way. In
other words,” Ellis added,“often strong meat can be digested if served
in the proper way. Pick your way carefully and learn the great value of
choosing adjectives in a measured manner, i.e., [as] descriptive
words.” Upon further reflection, Ellis proposed that a topical
approach replace plans for a definitive biography. Referring to what
the Propaganda Fide Archives might reveal, Ellis explained,“if they are
what I suspect, it simply cannot be told, and if it cannot be told, then
let us not pretend to something that your work would not be.”21
20
Ellis to Most Rev. Pietro Sigismondi, Secretary, Sacred Congregation de Propaganda
Fide, c. January 1960, Folder S, Box 10, CFS, ACUA: JTEP. Debevec was largely responsible for later indexing reams of Propaganda documents. See Finbar Kenneally, United
States Documents in the Propaganda Fide Archives; a Calendar, 10 vols. (Washington,
DC, 1966–1987).
21
Sweeney to Ellis, September 7, 1960, Rye Beach, Box 10, CFS,ACUA: JTEP; and Ellis
to Sweeney, September 9 and 21, 1960, Box 2, RCFS. Shortly after Sweeney received the
microfilm from the Propaganda Fide Archives, Sweeney helped Ellis with a sermon on
Spalding to be delivered at St. Mary’s Cathedral in Peoria on October 25, 1960.The occasion was the Solemn Pontifical Mass of the annual meeting of the Catholic superintendents of schools. While detailing the bishop’s educational contributions and

BY C.WALKER GOLLAR

59

When the two men met in mid-November, Sweeney summarized
the Roman documents for Ellis.The documents revealed that in 1902,
when Spalding’s name appeared first on all the lists of candidates to
assume the vacant see of Chicago, Lina Caldwell wrote to several
prominent church officials, including Spalding’s nemesis, Cardinal
Francesco Satolli in Rome, claiming that Spalding lived a life “of
depravity and licentiousness hardly suspected.” Yet when Caldwell
was asked to substantiate these allegations, she repeatedly refused to
do so. The investigation of Spalding’s longtime friend, Archbishop
Patrick W. Riordan of San Francisco, who happened to be in Europe at
the time that Caldwell raised her charge, nonetheless claimed to
uncover the substance of Caldwell’s allegations.According to Riordan,
Caldwell’s vague accusations had led Riordan to interview an anonymous priest who claimed that he had heard Caldwell’s sister, Mamie,
confess when near death that she had conducted a nearly twentyyear-long sexual affair with Spalding. In a report written to Satolli,
Riordan declared that he believed the accusation was true. In the
deliberations over Chicago, Satolli emphasized Riordan’s report, and
Spalding’s name was removed from consideration.22
Ellis acknowledged that Caldwell’s vague accusations, especially
when matched with the report of the anonymous priest, were significant, for these accusations definitely curtailed Spalding’s career.
At the same time, however, the accusations were not necessarily true.
Ellis and Sweeney rightly suspected that Caldwell and the anonymous priest were not trustworthy sources of information. No other
historical record verified their claims. Historians will likely never
know for certain whether or not Spalding had an affair, although the
surviving evidence, which remains nothing more than what Sweeney
and Ellis had found in the Propaganda Fide Archives, suggests that
Spalding did not.

emphasizing his “moral courage,” Ellis also may have reflected his growing understanding of Spalding when he suggested in this sermon that,“like the rest of humankind, John
Lancaster Spalding was not free of faults and defects.” “Sermon Delivered at the
Pontifical Mass,” p. 2. With help from Sweeney, Ellis expanded this address into John
Lancaster Spalding: First Bishop of Peoria, American Educator (Milwaukee, 1961).
22
Baroness von Zedwitz, née Caldwell, to Cardinal Satolli, Paris, August 17, 1902,
folder 153/1903: no. 52375,APF (author’s translation from the French, which included
a number of anglicisme, or frenchification of English words). See C.Walker Gollar,“The
Double Doctrine of the Caldwell Sisters,” The Catholic Historical Review, 81 (1995),
372–97.

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THE HISTORICAL METHODOLOGY OF JOHN TRACY ELLIS

For a brief time, Sweeney actually entertained the possibility of a
different indiscretion. On April 5, 1961, Sweeney again interviewed
von Zedwitz. Six days later, Sweeney curiously wrote to Ellis,“I would
love to get your first reaction to the good man. It may be my imagination but the whole tale is not in just yet.” Over the next few weeks
Sweeney tried to locate a photograph of Spalding. As Spalding and
von Zedwitz bore some resemblance, which revolved mostly around
the fact that both men were bald, Sweeney wondered if Spalding
could be von Zedwitz’s father. Yet Sweeney soon conceded that the
possibility that Spalding had fathered Caldwell’s child rested on evidence (namely, two bald heads) that was about as substantial as the
allegation that Spalding had conducted an affair with Caldwell’s sister.
In other words, both charges were extremely weak.23
About the time that Sweeney was entertaining these thoughts, Ellis
told Sweeney that although the Propaganda Fide Archives contained
problematic material that would be tricky to present, he did not
regret his efforts to gain special access. Sweeney should proceed with
the full biography.When Ellis found out that Archbishop William Brady
of St. Paul had denied Milton Lomask, a fellow historian, entrance to
the archives containing John Ireland’s papers, Ellis wrote,“Thank God
we go [sic] in for J[ames]G[ibbons] and JLS before the gates were
locked!”24
From late April to mid-July Sweeney worked on chapter 7, what he
called “the most difficult to date because of what prudence dictated
should be left out.” In this section, Sweeney described two of
Spalding’s sermons, one of which was preached in the Gesú Church
in Rome. Especially in this Gesú address, Spalding had championed an
inspiring affirmation of the individual person. Shortly before
Spalding’s address, Pope Leo XIII, in the apostolic letter Testem benevolentiae, had condemned such affirmations in what has been
denounced as Americanism. In a footnote to chapter 7, Sweeney
added that in the wake of the Gesú address Spalding’s orthodoxy had
been questioned.Yet, as Sweeney explained to Ellis, Sweeney deliber23
Sweeney to Ellis, April 11, 1961, Folder S, Box 10, RCFS,ACUA: JTEP. Sweeney interviewed von Zedwitz a third time, although the date of this conversation is not known.
In conversation with me on August 21, 1991, Sweeney revealed his speculation about
Spalding and von Zedwitz. A careful reconstruction of Caldwell and Spalding’s whereabouts reveals that they were never in the same country the year that von Zedwitz was
conceived.
24
Ellis to Sweeney (postcard), May 6, 1961, Box 2, RCFS,ACUA: JTEP.

BY C.WALKER GOLLAR

61

ately withheld some details of the investigation, including Benigni’s
use of an unnamed Peoria spy to learn more about Spalding. (Benigni
later led the charge against modernists, as mentioned above.)
Sweeney did air the claim of a former French priest, Albert Houtin,
that Spalding had felt disheartened and consequently nearly abandoned the faith. But Sweeney did not belabor the point by citing similar claims found in the Propaganda Fide Archives.25
Sweeney also did not write much about Mamie Caldwell, other
than to note that she had traveled with Spalding in Europe at the time
of the Gesú sermon. In footnote 98, Sweeney did refer to Spalding’s
unexplained estrangement from Mamie. Ellis was leery over the association with Americanism, but was more concerned with Sweeney’s
suppression of material concerning Mamie.“As for the delicate affair
of which we have spoken,” Ellis wrote to Sweeney,
I think nothing very damaging shows through here except Note 98. Now
I do not want you to indulge in any more suppressio veri [suppression of
the truth] than is absolutely necessary. But will not this footnote only raise
questions in people’s minds that you are not willing to answer? You can
answer them, yes, but for reasons known to both of us, you do not wish to.
Is there, then, anything essential in Note 98 that demands that it appear? If
so, I do not see it; and I think if you leave it as it is you are only going to
raise these questions—and, perhaps, downright suspicions—which you
would rather leave dormant.Think over this point.

On this matter, Ellis wanted to consult with one of the dissertation
readers. Sulpician priest Louis A. Arand was not only the president of
the Divinity College and an associate professor of dogmatic theology
but also Ellis’s spiritual director. Ellis was always deferential, perhaps
25
Sweeney to Ellis, July 28, 1961, Folder S, Box 10, CFS,ACUA: JTEP.Also see Sweeney
to Ellis, July 13, 1961, Folder S, Box 10, CFS,ACUA: JTEP; and Albert Houtin, The Life of
a Priest: My Own Experience, 1867–1912 (London, 1927), p. 187. The Gesú sermon
(delivered March 21, 1900) was published as Spalding, “Education and the Future of
Religion,”Religion, Agnosticism, and Education (Chicago, 1903), pp. 147–92.The other
sermon that Sweeney discussed in chapter 7 had been delivered as the principal
address at the dedication of Holy Cross College (adjacent to Catholic University) on
October 13, 1899. This address was published as “The University: A Nursery of the
Higher Life,” Opportunity and Other Essays and Addresses (Chicago, 1900), pp. 7–44.
Important work on Americanism includes Gerald P. Fogarty, The Vatican and the
American Hierarchy from 1870 to 1965 (Wilmington, DE, 1985), pp. 143–94; David
O’Brien, Isaac Hecker, American Catholic (New York, 1992); Margaret Reher,“Leo XIII
and Americanism,” Theological Studies, 34 (1973), 679–89; and (entire issue of) U.S.
Catholic Historian 11, no. 3 (1993).

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THE HISTORICAL METHODOLOGY OF JOHN TRACY ELLIS

excessively so, to Arand. To Sweeney, Ellis explained that Arand was
“wonderfully balanced and sane,” sensible and prudent, “not crying
‘hush hush’ at every suggestion of sin in the life of a high ecclesiastic;
but at the same time giving signals of danger when he senses that a
situation is ‘off key,’ shall we say.”26
While Sweeney pondered Ellis’s suggestions for footnote 98,
Sweeney also plodded ahead with what he called “the most delicate”
and “the most difficult” chapter 8. If Ellis could just see the material
from the Propaganda Fide Archives, Sweeney suggested, Ellis would be
as bewildered as Sweeney as to how to proceed.“In moments of rebellion,” Sweeney declared, “I am tempted to write the history of these
years as the documents indicate, but then we would have to publish
without ecclesiastical approbation.” Given the difficulties in
Spalding’s life, Sweeney concluded at this time that someone had
deliberately destroyed Spalding’s papers. The perpetrator could have
been Peoria chancellor Francis J. O’Reilly; Bishop James Ryan of Alton,
Illinois; Professor Thomas J. Shahan of Catholic University; or some
Spalding family member. Yet Sweeney also acknowledged that, as
some oral tradition had suggested, Spalding may have been merely disorganized with his own papers and simply did not preserve (or lost)
his correspondence. After his debilitating stroke in 1905, Spalding
admitted that he indeed had been careless with his letters.27
For years, Sweeney had struggled to find out why Spalding had
resigned as bishop of Peoria in September 1908. Documents that
Sweeney had found in the Catholic University Archives revealed that
in July 1908 Caldwell had again issued vague threats against Spalding.
Sweeney assumed these threats were rooted in the same charges of
the anonymous priest, which were asserted in Riordan’s 1904 report.
Although Spalding’s stroke, which had rendered him an invalid, prob26
Ellis to Sweeney, July 21, 1961; Ellis to Sweeney,August 1, 1961, Kenmore,WA. Box
2, RCFS,ACUA: JTEP. Ellis similarly described Arand elsewhere. See, for example, preface
to 1st ed., rpt. in Ellis, American Catholicism, 2nd ed. rev. (Chicago, 1969), pp. xv–xviii,
here p. xvii. Note 98 in Sweeney’s dissertation appeared without change as p. 284n69
in the published text. John T. Farrell and Trisco were the original readers for Sweeney’s
dissertation, but Arand had replaced Trisco by this point, because Trisco had been in
Rome for some time.
27
Sweeney to Ellis, September 25, 1961, and November 28, 1961, Rye Beach, Folder
S, Box 10, Correspondence,ACUA: JTEP. Concerning Sweeney’s speculation on the possible destruction of Spalding’s papers, see Sweeney to Ellis, January 24, 1962, Rye Beach,
Box 10, CFS,ACUA: JTEP; and Sweeney, The Life of John Lancaster Spalding (New York,
1965), p. 365n27.

BY C.WALKER GOLLAR

63

ably was more responsible for his resignation than Caldwell’s accusations, Sweeney nonetheless regretted that he could not tell the story,
including the charges of an affair.“Now I know what suppressio veri
fully entails. Is this the problem of the Catholic historian?” he wondered. Ellis reacted strongly, explaining that “[m]y historian’s conscience is very uneasy about all this suppressio veri.” Professional
integrity need not be sacrificed entirely, he declared.“[P]ut as much
into the chapter as you dare.” In early May 1962 Sweeney completed
a draft of chapter 8. Ellis was pleased and offered no substantial
changes.Arand, however, had Sweeney remove a reference to Chicago
Archbishop Patrick Augustine Feehan’s intemperance.28
In late October Sweeney completed chapter 9, whose most difficult piece was Spalding’s retirement. Selective reporting of the relevant facts was, Sweeney told Ellis,“a most unpleasant task but I believe
I have preserved my integrity as a historian.” By footnoting reference
to letters that contained more of the story, Sweeney figured that he
had avoided scandal.A discerning future historian could still discover
the whole truth, Sweeney pointed out.The morning of November 30,
Sweeney mailed Ellis the final and relatively short concluding chapter
and confirmed plans to meet in Washington, DC, the following week.
At that meeting Ellis suggested that Sweeney amend the conclusion
with a clearer explication of Spalding’s character—underscoring, perhaps, that Spalding was cold and aloof—and, although admired, not
necessarily loved by all. Ellis wanted Sweeney to present the “true JLS
as you see him without necessarily revealing all the warts!”29
Although Sweeney had not amended the conclusion as advised, by
mid December he sent a draft of the dissertation to the readers. Arand
insisted that he could not pass the dissertation unless Sweeney made
two changes: elaborate on Spalding’s personality in the conclusion,
and, more important, remove all references to the connection
between Spalding’s resignation and the Caldwells.Although Sweeney
had told some, but not all of the story, Arand advised that none of the
story be told.Arand explained:

28
Sweeney to Ellis, November 28, 1961, and December 2, 1961, Rye Beach, Folder S,
Box 10, CFS, ACUA: JTEP. Ellis also had James Gaffey read portions of the dissertation,
including chapter 8. At the time Gaffey was working on his doctoral dissertation on
Riordan.
29
Sweeney to Ellis, October 31, 1962, Rye Beach, Folder S, Box 10, CFS,ACUA: JTEP;
and Ellis to Sweeney, December 13, 1962, Catholic University, Box 2, RCFS.

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THE HISTORICAL METHODOLOGY OF JOHN TRACY ELLIS

We all must tell the truth, but we must not always TELL the truth. In this
instance to tell the truth even if such it be would cause incalculable harm
to souls and therefore the love of telling the truth does not justify
TELLING it.

In other words, Arand insisted that historians must always tell the
truth, although they need not tell everything. On February 18, 1963,
Ellis sent Arand’s notes to Sweeney, adding that he fully supported
Arand’s views.“The more I have thought of it,” Ellis went on to explain,
the more impossible I feel it would be to bring that story out in full, especially in view of the fact that, as [Arand] says, there is not any really clinching evidence, i.e., the kind of evidence that would be taken seriously in a
courtroom to prove the truth of the baroness’ charges.

Suppression of the truth in this case ironically did not mean suppressing what was true, but suppressing what was most likely false.
Changes must therefore be made after the examination, which was
two weeks away, and before the manuscript was microfilmed for the
library.30
On February 26 Sweeney responded to Arand’s critique, stumped
as to how to explain Spalding’s resignation without reference to the
Caldwells. Meanwhile, Ellis advised that Sweeney concentrate on the
oral examination. In a note left in the middle of the night at Ellis’s
door, Arand reformed his position, explaining that he could pass
Sweeney on the condition that after the orals, a discussion ensue
about necessary deletions. On the eve of Sweeney’s defense,
Franciscan priest Owen Blum startled Ellis by saying,
I understand that there is something in the life of Bishop Spalding of
Peoria that will be rather scandalous if it gets out. There is a story in the
Middle West to this effect and it is said it was uncovered by one of your
students.

Ellis gasped and then said he preferred to remain silent about it.
(Sweeney subsequently concluded that Celsus Wheeler, his Provincial
30
Handwritten notes of L. A. [Louis Arand], originally enclosed in Ellis to Sweeney
February 18, 1963, Folder S, Box 12, CFS,ACUA: JTEP, emphasis in original. In agreement
with Arand, Ellis throughout his career regularly quoted James Boswell, who once
wrote,“Though I tell nothing but the truth, I have still kept in my mind that the whole
truth is not always to be exposed.” Ellis, “Fragments from My Autobiography,” pp.
574–75; Ellis, Faith and Learning, p. 16; and Ellis, Catholic Bishops, p. 11.

BY C.WALKER GOLLAR

65

and confidant, had revealed his secret.) In what must have been a
tense atmosphere, Sweeney successfully defended the dissertation on
March 14. The conversation about necessary deletions undoubtedly
followed, although no record remains of what was said.31
Trisco next read the dissertation, advising that the text be microfilmed and published without any deletions. Ellis did not agree that
the work should be published without changes, although he apparently did concede that scholars should have some access to the
unedited dissertation. Sweeney consequently had the manuscript
microfilmed and bound for the library. Arand soon became irate when
he discovered that his name still appeared in the acknowledgments.
As Arand had apparently revoked his endorsement, he may have been
the person who had the library copies “impounded”—that is,
removed from circulation for some time. Sweeney nonetheless then
suggested that the dissertation be published without any changes. At
this suggestion, Ellis clearly drew the line.“The matter is very grave,
David,” Ellis explained, “and would, I feel sure, do irreparable harm
were it to be put into print.” Sweeney responded by assuring Ellis that
the dissertation would never be published without Ellis’s complete
approval.32
Transferred in fall 1963 to Christ the King Seminary in St.
Bonaventure in upstate New York, Sweeney worked with Ellis to find
a publisher for the dissertation. By Easter 1964, Herder and Herder
had agreed to issue the text. Ellis hoped that Sweeney could “bridge
the very very difficult assignment of concealing the ‘unpublishable
31
Ellis to Sweeney, March 8, 1963, New York, Box 2, RCFS, ACUA: JTEP. Also see
Sweeney to Ellis, February 26, 1963, and March 9, 1963, Rye Beach, Folder S, Box 12,
CFS, ACUA: JTEP; Ellis to Sweeney, undated letter, the first page of which is missing (c.
early March 1963); and Ellis to Sweeney, March 8, 1963, Box 2, RCFS. Concerning the
Franciscans’ treatment of Sweeney during his research, see Ellis to Sweeney, January 1,
1962, New York, Box 2, RCFS, ACUA: JTEP; Sweeney to Ellis, December 19, 1962, Rye
Beach, Folder S, Box 10, CFS,ACUA: JTEP.
32
Ellis to Sweeney, May 14, 1963, San Francisco, Box 2, RCFS, ACUA: JTEP; Ellis to
Sweeney,April 20, 1963,Washington, DC, Folder S, Box 12, CFS,ACUA: JTEP; copy in Box
2, RCFS, ACUA: JTEP. Sweeney’s suggestion that the dissertation be published without
any changes had come from Bede A. Dauphine, Sweeney’s Franciscan friend. In Ellis’s
response to Sweeney’s suggestion regarding publishing the text without changes, he
noted that he was making a copy of this letter for his files “so that my view may be a
matter of record if ever it is needed.” Before Sweeney returned the original copy of this
letter, he added a note that explained that the “confrere,” as Ellis had put it, who had
approved of the manuscript unchanged, was “Bede D.”

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THE HISTORICAL METHODOLOGY OF JOHN TRACY ELLIS

fact’ without doing too great violence to your integrity as an historian
of the Church.” Ellis added that this whole business constituted “about
the most difficult thing to have come within my knowledge since I
began teaching more than thirty years ago.” Since Spalding had played
a prominent role in the Church and in the country, Ellis feared that full
disclosure would undermine the respect for Catholic bishops. Ellis
thus reasoned that “not to tell the truth in a given historical episode
is not necessarily to sin against the light.”33
In the text submitted to Herder and Herder, Sweeney made no significant changes to the controversial material. In other words,
Sweeney still did not tell the whole story. Twenty-six-year-old John
Heidenry, a junior editor at Herder and Herder, complained that the
text raised too many unanswered questions. Ellis agreed, yet insisted
that he could never consent to telling the whole truth.“The Church
is bigger than all of us,” Ellis explained to Sweeney, “and so long as
there was not telling of an untruth but merely holding back the full
details, I felt it should stand as … written.” Justus Lawler, senior editor
at Herder and Herder, predicted that some future historian would discover the whole truth. Many already apparently knew the details,
Lawler remarked. He surmised:
It is [thus] preferable to have the disclosure made in a controllable situation, Fr. Sweeney’s biography, rather than leave them to an unknown
future, to the hand of somebody who may feel none of the scruples that
now necessarily beset you and Fr. Sweeney.

Lawler believed that the matter could be delicately worded; should be
surrounded by the broader accomplishments of Spalding’s life; and
must be underplayed as one, albeit significant, event.The broader reputation of American Catholic history was at stake, according to
Lawler.34
33
Ellis to Sweeney, January 28, 1965, University of San Francisco, Box 2, RCFS,ACUA:
JTEP; and Ellis to Lawler, February 12, 1965 (copy).At least two other times Ellis claimed
that the Spalding affair was the most difficult matter he faced in his thirty-year career.
See Ellis to Lawler, February 12, 1965 (copy); and Ellis to Sweeney, March 31, 1965, St.
Bonaventure.
34
Ellis to Sweeney, February 4, 1965, University of San Francisco; and J. G. Lawler to
Ellis, February 9, 1965, New York. Box 2, RCFS, ACUA: JTEP. In the draft submitted to
Herder and Herder, Sweeney removed two major pieces from chapter 8: evidence that
many of the Chicago clergy were corrupt at the turn of the century and platitudes
delivered to Spalding on the 1902 celebration of his silver jubilee as bishop of Peoria.
Regarding the Caldwell affair, Sweeney made only one minor change. After explaining

BY C.WALKER GOLLAR

67

Ellis fired back his “unalterable opposition to your suggestion.
Decision irrevocable. If you feel sure of consequences described, urge
entire work be immediately withdrawn from press.”A few days later,
Ellis claimed that he did not mind that his judgment was in question,
but rather was concerned the whole Spalding story might appear in
print. Ellis appreciated the editors’ arguments.“But there can come a
time,” Ellis explained,“when a value even higher than that of historical candor enters the picture, and I felt this was such a case.”35
The value higher than historical candor that Ellis invoked in this
case was not only the respect generally held for Catholic bishops,
along with the more specific reputation of one Catholic bishop,
Spalding, but also the honor of the Spalding family. Most of Spalding’s
surviving kin, including a number of persons with whom Ellis had
conversed, simply adored the bishop. Nieces and nephews affectionately called him “Uncle Bishop.” Ellis thus feared tarnishing the
memory of Spalding with even the slightest hint of indiscretion, especially if that hint came from unreliable sources. Although Ellis and
Sweeney did not believe that Spalding had anything to hide, telling his
whole story, which would include mention of charges that were probably false, could invite speculation that Spalding might have been
guilty. Ellis was not willing to provide this opportunity. The editors at
Herder and Herder eventually allowed Sweeney’s selective version of
the controversial material to stand.
Sweeney, meanwhile, was beginning to recognize a more important matter. Although some people may have been aware of hidden
parts of Spalding’s story, they still did not know the whole truth, as
Sweeney understood it. Over time, it became more and more apparent to Sweeney that the most delicate matter in Spalding’s life, the
aspect that must be kept from public view, was not what Ellis was so
desperately trying to hide, but Spalding’s alleged loss of faith in the
Catholic Church.While Ellis and the editors at Herder and Herder hagRiordan’s conclusion on the matter, Sweeney wrote in the dissertation, “Though the
allegations thus appeared incontrovertible, the complete truth in this painful episode
will never be known, at least in this life.” In the published version, the end of this sentence was changed to “the complete truth in this episode will perhaps never be
known.” Sweeney changed no other information from the dissertation concerning the
Caldwells. Sweeney,“Life of Spalding,” p. 428; and Sweeney, Life of Spalding, p. 309.
35
Ellis to Lawler, undated “night letter” (as Ellis described it), written in response to
Lawler’s letter of February 9, 1965; and Ellis to Lawler (copy), February 12, 1965. Box
2, RCFS,ACUA: JTEP.

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THE HISTORICAL METHODOLOGY OF JOHN TRACY ELLIS

gled over how to tell what they considered to be the most difficult
part of the story, Sweeney seemed relieved that Spalding’s faith was
not under discussion. At the end of 1965 Sweeney nonetheless still
anxiously waited for the arrival of The Life of John Lancaster
Spalding. “What does Louis Arand think?” Sweeney wondered, “Will
the appearance of the book cause the scandal that he so greatly
feared?”36
While Sweeney waited, on November 23, 1965, Ellis delivered “A
Commitment to Truth” as the nineteenth annual Wimmer Lecture at
St. Vincent College in Latrobe, Pennsylvania.“The supreme value and
healing quality of truth,” Ellis proclaimed, had been warranted by
scripture, demonstrated in the sacrifice of martyrs, embodied in the
life of Pope John XXIII, and championed by the bishops attending at
that very moment the Second Vatican Council. One of the Council’s
leading lights, Joseph Ratzinger (now Pope Benedict XVI), for example, had emphasized, much to Ellis’s delight, that the greatest need in
the Church was “forthright truthfulness.” “This is not to deny,” Ellis
nonetheless added,“that there is such a thing as a legitimate secret, or
that in a particular situation the general interests may best be served
by a policy of temporary or even lasting silence.” Perhaps Ellis was
thinking here of the Spalding allegations.Throughout Ellis’s career, he,
while always dedicated to the truth, readily and repeatedly admitted
that he sometimes had deliberately withheld some of the story, as he
most certainly had done in the Spalding biography. Human beings
must be allowed to wear an “invisible mask,” Ellis explained in the
Wimmer Lecture, so that they can conceal their intimate thoughts
about others and themselves.“Wearing of such a mask involves no violation of the principles of truthfulness and honesty in the sense in
which we have been speaking here,” concluded Ellis.37
Trouble did ensue when The Life of John Lancaster Spalding
appeared, although hardly the kind that Arand had predicted. In early
January 1966 Sweeney received his first copies, seven of which were
bound upside down. Ellis had warned Sweeney of “wry remarks” and
“sharp criticisms” that might appear in the reviews of the book, but
most critics proved to be rather mild. Almost all reviewers com36

Sweeney to Ellis, October 29, 1965, St. Bonaventure, Folder S, Box 14,
Correspondence, ACUA: JTEP. Also see Sweeney to Ellis, February 21, 1965, and March
20, 1965, St. Bonaventure, Folder S, Box 12, CFS,ACUA: JTEP.
37
Ellis, A Commitment to Truth, pp. 2, 59, 30, 37, and 38.

BY C.WALKER GOLLAR

69

mended Sweeney for balancing Spalding’s merits and defects. One
writer added that Sweeney had dealt with delicate material “with
commendable discretion.”(Handling another delicate matter, Sweeney
had removed Arand’s name from the introduction.) Herder and
Herder, however, hardly publicized the book, did not deliver copies as
promised, and did not send Ellis a text until the end of the month. By
that time, Sweeney reported that a few friends and confreres had
asked him for the whole truth. “They will die wondering,” Sweeney
insisted.38
In 1967 priest-sociologist Andrew Greeley charged Sweeney with
deliberately obscuring details of Spalding’s life. In a footnote in
Greeley’s Catholic Experience: An Interpretation of the History of
American Catholicism, Greeley postulated that one simply needed to
know more to understand why Spalding’s impressive talents were not
more fully realized. “One is tempted to say,” Greeley mused, “that
either the historians should tell the whole story or they should not
have told any of it.” To this remark, Sweeney again maintained, “I’ll
never tell.” In another address delivered at about this time to the
annual meeting of the Pacific Coast Branch of the American Historical
Association, Ellis denounced the once common policy of “indulging
generously in the suppressio veri in order to avoid giving scandal.”
Although Ellis did not say so in this address, he and Sweeney undoubtedly would nonetheless have agreed that a little indulging in suppressio veri was acceptable and, as subsequent events illustrated, to be
encouraged in some cases.39
On July 22, 1969, David P. Killen, a doctoral candidate at Marquette
University, asked Sweeney,“How might it be possible for me to utilize
38
Ellis to Sweeney, November 1, 1965, San Francisco, Box 2, RCFS,ACUA: JTEP; Robert
McNamara, The Catholic Historical Review, 53 (1968), 635; and Sweeney to Ellis,
January 30, 1966, St. Bonaventure, Folder S, Box 14, Correspondence,ACUA: JTEP. Other
reviews include Francis X. Curran, America, February 19, 1966, p. 265; Charles H.
Metzger, S.J., Review for Religious, 25 (1966), 547–48;William Loughlin, Ave Maria, May
28, 1966, p. 22; Theodore A. Opdenaker, Priest, 22 (1966), 501–02; Francis J. Weber,
American Ecclesiastical Review, 154 (1966), 424–25; Robert D. Cross, American
Historical Review, 71 (1966), 1457; David J. O’Brien, Cross Currents, 17 (1966), 245–47;
Edmund G. Ryan, S.J., Theological Studies, 28 (1967), 171–72; Vincent R. Weber, O.P.,
Cross and Crown, 18 (1967), 373–74. In the published introduction, Sweeney removed
the mention of Arand that had appeared in the dissertation.
39
Greeley, The Catholic Experience (New York, 1967), p. 167; Sweeney to Ellis,
January 12, 1969, St. Bonaventure, Folder S, Box 16, Correspondence, ACUA: JTEP; and
Ellis,“The Ecclesiastical Historian in the Service of Clio,” p. 110.

70

THE HISTORICAL METHODOLOGY OF JOHN TRACY ELLIS

the file on Spalding which you collected from the Sacred
Congregation de Propaganda Fide in Rome?” Most likely, only
Sweeney had thus far actually seen this collection. Three months
passed before Sweeney responded with an apparently vague answer.
He then asked Ellis, “Shall we allow him unrestricted use of the
Spalding material on microfilm from Propaganda?” Ellis responded:
Under the circumstances, what would you think of telling this fellow you
would wish to see him in person before replying in full to his inquiry, then
tell him the whole story, and ask him as a man of honor not to divulge the
unhappy circumstances that he would uncover on the microfilm since,
obviously, these would have no bearing on JLS’ alleged ecclesiology?

At this moment, recent developments in the Catholic Church troubled
Ellis. In particular, Ellis lamented the fact that some priests were leaving the priesthood in the wake of the Second Vatican Council.These
were “troubled times,” Ellis declared to Sweeney. Ellis, therefore, was
hesitant to increase confusion among the clergy by releasing information that might suggest that a prominent bishop may have had his
own problems. Following Ellis’s advice, Sweeney met with Killen
probably before the end of 1969. Sweeney gave Killen, as Sweeney
later reported, “all [of] my Spalding material.” Killen completed the
dissertation “John Spalding’s American Understanding of the Church”
in 1970. Undoubtedly to Ellis and Sweeney’s satisfaction, neither
Killen’s dissertation nor a related article exposed Sweeney’s secret.40
But another Spalding scholar eventually broke through. In about
1975, Peoria-born Robert Newton Barger, a former priest-turned-doctoral student, asked Sweeney for Spalding material. Sweeney again
supplied his notes, yet this time did not demand the pledge of secrecy
40
David P. Killen to Sweeney, July 22, 1969, Milwaukee, Box 2, RCFS, ACUA: JTEP;
Sweeney to Ellis, October 24, 1969, St. Bonaventure, Folder S, Box 16, CFS,ACUA: JTEP;
Ellis to Sweeney, October 27, 1969, San Francisco, Archives of Charles Walker Gollar
[original letter given to Gollar from Sweeney—Ellis’s copy of letter found in Folder S,
Box 16, RCFS, ACUA: JTEP]; and Sweeney to Ellis, August 12, 1971, Frankfurt, Germany,
Box 2, RCFS, ACUA: JTEP. Also see David P. Killen, “John Spalding’s American
Understanding of the Church” (PhD dissertation, Marquette University, 1970); and
Killen, “Americanism Revisited: John Spalding and Testem Benevolentiae,” Harvard
Theological Review, 66 (1973), 413–54. In the 1960s two other doctoral students completed dissertations on Spalding’s views of education. Neither student broached the
subject that Sweeney kept hidden. See Mary Luella Shaefer, “The Sources and
Development of John Lancaster Spalding’s Educational Theory” (PhD dissertation, Saint
Louis University, 1962); and Eugene Grollmes, “The Educational Theory of John
Lancaster Spalding:The Ideal of Heroism” (PhD dissertation, Boston College, 1969).

BY C.WALKER GOLLAR

71

that he had required of Killen. Whereas Ellis’s fears had dictated the
response to Killen, Sweeney’s more permissive attitude seemed to
have governed the encounter with Barger, which produced different
results. Since Spalding’s personal life purportedly related to the focus
of Barger’s dissertation (Spalding’s philosophy of education) and
since Greeley had charged Sweeney with obscuring important details,
Barger discussed in his dissertation the previously undisclosed allegations found in the Propaganda Fide Archives. Barger added that even
Sweeney had written that “the allegations thus appear incontrovertible.” Sweeney was incensed that the verb in the quotation from
Sweeney’s text actually was “appeared,” not “appear,” which Sweeney
rightly contended suggested an altogether different meaning.That the
allegations “appeared” or seemed true at one point in time did not
mean they still “appear” to be so. Sweeney remained certain that the
allegations had been consequential to the career of Spalding.They certainly were relevant, even though they were not true.41
With no response from Sweeney and now informed by the revelations of Barger’s dissertation, Greeley went on to speculate about
what he considered to be the cover up. In 1977 Greeley asserted that
Ellis was “apparently responsible for the decision not to print the love
letters written by John Lancaster Spalding, the bishop of Peoria, to
Mary Gwendolyn Caldwell, founder of the Catholic University of
America, and his mistress of twenty years.” To a member of the
Spalding family, Ellis adamantly denied this accusation, explaining that
as far as he knew no such love letters ever existed. In a short while,
historian Philip Gleason, who had heard directly from Ellis that no
love letters ever existed, described Greeley’s accusation as one of
Greeley’s “deplorable lapses from scholarly responsibility.” Ellis simply
refused to respond to Greeley.42
41
Barger,“John Lancaster Spalding: Catholic Educator and Social Emissary” (PhD dissertation, University of Illinois at Urbana–Champaign, 1976), pp. 26, 35; and Sweeney to
John Lancaster Spalding (relative of the bishop), February 13, 1979, New York, Box 2,
RCFS,ACUA: JTEP. In 1988 Barger’s dissertation was published exactly as written in 1976
as John Lancaster Spalding: Catholic Educator and Social Emissary (New York, 1988).
42
Greeley, The American Catholic: A Social Portrait (New York, 1977), p. 32; and
Gleason, “Greeley Watching” [rev. of The American Catholic: A Social Portrait, by
Andrew Greeley], Review of Politics, 40 (1978), 528–40, here 537. Also see Ellis to
Sweeney, June 25, 1977,Washington, DC, Box 2, RCFS,ACUA: JTEP; and Gleason, Obit. of
John Tracy Ellis, Journal of Texas Catholic History and Culture, 4 (1993), 9–11.
Spalding must have exchanged letters with the Caldwell sisters, although no such correspondence has been found.The Ellis-Sweeney correspondence does not indicate any
evidence for the so-called love letters.

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THE HISTORICAL METHODOLOGY OF JOHN TRACY ELLIS

Throughout the 1980s, silence reigned over the Spalding allegations.
Teaching and administrative duties consumed Sweeney, and he rarely
found time for research. Although Barger’s dissertation shed some light
on Spalding, Sweeney still held firm to the conviction that he would
never tell the whole story, refusing even to discuss the matter with
brother Franciscans. Meanwhile, Ellis began to privately admit to some
historians, as well as to a few members of the Spalding family, that he
had not given Sweeney the best advice. It would have been better, Ellis
revealed in confidence, to have told none of the story.43
In late 1990 I decided to focus my doctoral dissertation on
Spalding (my great-great uncle). I next contacted a number of
Spalding scholars, beginning with Sweeney. During two days that I
spent with him at the Franciscan Friary at St. Bonaventure University,
Sweeney gave me his Spalding research notes. He also instructed the
St. Bonaventure librarian to print out from microfilm hard copies of
the material that Sweeney had acquired from the Propaganda Fide
Archives. In addition, Sweeney gave me one letter from Ellis. At the
time I had no idea that Sweeney also had about 130 other letters from
Ellis. It is unclear why Sweeney chose to give me this letter, which
includes Ellis’s advice (cited above) to tell doctoral student David
Killen the whole story,“and [then] ask him as a man of honor not to
divulge the unhappy circumstances that he would uncover on the
microfilm. . . .” I never thought Sweeney was suggesting that I, too, not
tell the whole story. It seemed, instead, that Sweeney gave me the
letter so that I might better understand the delicate history of this
entire affair. (As I later discovered, Ellis also saved a carbon copy of
this letter in his files.)
On August 22, 1991, I interviewed the eighty-six-year-old Ellis, who
was living in retirement at the Jeanne Jugan Residence near Catholic
University. Before I sat down, Ellis insisted that I had to write about
the Caldwell sisters. He did not have much more to say, other than to
request that I discover the identity of the Spalding relative, perhaps a
niece, who had lambasted Ellis for allowing Sweeney to include vague
references in his biography to Spalding’s troubled relationship with
the Caldwells. (I discovered the identity of this relative only years later
after reading the Ellis-Sweeney correspondence.)
43
See Ellis to Sweeney, June 25, 1977,Washington, DC, Box 2, RCFS,ACUA: JTEP.After
the publication of the dissertation, Sweeney’s only scholarly work was “Herman Schell,
1850–1906: A German Dimension to the Americanist Controversy,” The Catholic
Historical Review, 76 (1990), 44–70.

BY C.WALKER GOLLAR

73

About a year later, Sweeney visited Ellis in Washington, DC. Unable
to engage in any prolonged conversation, Ellis ended his time with
Sweeney by saying,“When next we meet, David, there will be ample
time to discuss all those topics which so interest us both.” Days later,
on October 16, 1992, Ellis passed away.The anticipated next meeting
between the two men came sooner than either must have expected.
On March 20, 1993, Sweeney died. I finished the dissertation in 1994.
In 1995 I published what I had learned about Spalding and the
Caldwells in an article for The Catholic Historical Review.44
After studying the course of Ellis’s career, especially his deliberations over the Spalding biography, I have come to appreciate Ellis’s
understanding of history. He surely valued historical work, instinctively turning to the past to find answers to modern questions and
using history to promote reform in the Church. Yet Ellis also readily
admitted that he neither thought much about the process of doing
history nor consistently followed a clearly detailed set of rules.
Instead, Ellis, as he once put it, simply “attempt[ted] to tell the story
as honestly and objectively as possible.”At the same time, Ellis’s writings, especially his private correspondence, demonstrate that Ellis
sometimes held fast to certain convictions. Three convictions are
especially relevant.45
Ellis first believed that intimate matters that did not significantly
affect history need not be told. Despite the fact that Ellis liked to
gossip, he could overlook certain matters, including, for example,
Spalding’s “true” friendship with his cousin Josie. Ellis undoubtedly
had figured that this relationship had no bearing on Spalding’s subsequent career. Given the countless details associated with every event,
historians always must pick and choose the subject of their writings.
As not writing about seemingly irrelevant matters helps to focus
research, some of Ellis’s contemporaries undoubtedly would have
agreed with Ellis’s dismissal of irrelevant personal details, even if such
dismissal came in the form of editing historical documents. Some disagreement may nonetheless have arisen as to what constituted relevancy. Compared to many of his contemporaries, Ellis tended to
believe that more, rather than less, information was relevant to a given
story. He thus encouraged students like Sweeney to “put in as much
44
Cyprian J. Lynch, O.F.M., Obit. of David Sweeney, O.F.M., The Catholic Historical
Review, 79 (1993), 600. See Gollar,“Double Doctrine,” 372–97.
45
Ellis, Faith and Learning, p. 76.

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THE HISTORICAL METHODOLOGY OF JOHN TRACY ELLIS

as you dare.” Far surpassing the various bishops who had so irritated
him and more than most American Catholic historians who had come
before him, Ellis certainly advocated greater openness of the Catholic
record. Yet Ellis still drew a line, albeit a thinner one, between what
should and what should not be told.
Drawing a line over delicate matters that were consequential
proved to be more challenging for Ellis. In at least one such case, Ellis
illustrated a second conviction—namely, that where intimate affairs
were of consequence, the reputation of the Church should trump the
expectations of history. The most difficult case of his career, writing
about the Spalding-Caldwell relationship, was for Ellis one of those
rare times when a value higher than historical candor had entered the
picture. As Ellis repeatedly put it, the historian must never lie, but still
need not necessarily tell all of the truth. Although some of Ellis’s superiors had ordered that nothing damaging to the Catholic Church ever
be revealed, Ellis generally tried to paint a more realistic picture. But
in the complicated Spalding case—that is, where accusations of intimate misbehavior were likely false, although certainly consequential—Ellis, like some contemporaries, closed the door.
But Ellis did not lock the door nor destroy the evidence. And thus
Ellis exhibited a third conviction—namely, that the treatment of difficult matters, including even consequential personal affairs, should be
left open for revision. Ellis accordingly made no attempt to destroy
the actual handwritten letters that had mentioned Josie and even kept
a photostat of the unedited letter in his personal files (which he eventually donated to the Catholic University Archives). To use Ellis’s
expression, Ellis may have “marred” the historical record, but he did
not destroy history. Sweeney went one step further. He did not tell
Spalding’s whole story, but did deliberately footnote references to
documents that did. In other words, Sweeney left bread crumbs to the
truth about Spalding. But Ellis and Sweeney also preserved the evidence of their own deliberations. In preserving all of their correspondence (as well as in Sweeney providing to me one rather telling
letter from Ellis), both Sweeney and Ellis certainly opened the door to
some historian someday telling their story.
Perhaps now is the time to tell the whole truth in all accounts of
American Catholic history.Whereas Catholics of Ellis’s generation may
have begun to question authority in new ways, recent revelations
about covering up sexual misbehavior of the clergy have caused many

BY C.WALKER GOLLAR

75

modern Catholics to rightfully distrust church authority. The era of
moonlight and roses seems to have been supplanted by the age of
betrayal. Many modern Catholics consequently clamor for greater
transparency in the Church, especially with regard to what has
occurred in the past. People want to know the whole truth. Catholic
scholars accordingly insist upon, as historian Marcia Colish declared,
“the vital importance for Catholics today of reclaiming from the institutional mythmakers their ‘real history.’” Ellis once argued that historical honesty might sometimes be sacrificed to higher values. Given
the issues facing today’s Church, is there currently a higher value than
historical honesty? Now appears to be the time to stop drawing any
line whatsoever between what should and what should not be told.46

46
Francis Oakley and Bruce Russett,“Introduction: How Did We Get Here and Where
Do We Go?”, in Governance, Accountability, and the Future of the Catholic Church,
ed. Francis Oakley and Bruce Russett (New York, 2004), pp. 1–24, here p. 10.This book
includes addresses by a wide range of Catholic scholars (including Marcia Colish), who
attended a conference at Yale University on March 28–30, 2003.

REVIEW ARTICLES

CHURCH CENSORSHIP OF SCIENCE
IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY
BY

PAUL F. GRENDLER*
Catholic Church and Modern Science. Documents from the Archives of the
Roman Congregations of the Holy Office and the Index. Edited by Ugo
Baldini and Leen Spruit. Vol. 1 in 4 tomes: Sixteenth-Century Documents.
[Fontes Archivi Sancti Officii Romani 5.] (Roma: Libreria Editrice Vaticana.
2009. Pp. xxiii + 3380 [paged continuously]. €160,00. ISBN 978-8-82098288-1.)
This work in four large tomes or parts publishes all the surviving documents concerning trials of scientists (broadly conceived) and the censorship
of scientific books (very broadly conceived) found in the archives of the
Congregations of the Holy Office and Index from their origins in the sixteenth century through December 31, 1600. Pope Paul III founded the
Congregation of the Holy Office, the modern Roman Inquisition, in his bull
Licet ab initio of July 21, 1542, and Pius V established the Congregation of the
Index in 1571. Both were suppressed in the twentieth century.
When it became apparent that the Vatican policy of barring researchers
from the archives of the two congregations (now housed in the archive of the
Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith) was going to change, Ugo Baldini,
the distinguished professor of the history of science at the University of
Padua, well known for his studies of Jesuit science and Galileo Galilei, met
two other scholars in 1994 to discuss a very ambitious project.They wanted
to publish all the surviving documents concerning scientific books and individuals from the origins of the two congregations to 1808, when Napoleon
moved the archives to Paris. (They were returned after 1815, although much
was lost.) With organizational and financial support from Vatican officials,
including then-Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, he began archival research in
autumn 1996. Antonello Pizzaleo, Cesare Preti, and Carla San Mauro aided in
*Dr. Grendler, professor of history emeritus at the University of Toronto, now resides
in Chapel Hill, NC.

76

BY PAUL F. GRENDLER

77

the research, and Herman H. Swedet helped prepare biographies. Professor
Leen Spruit, lecturer of Dutch language and literature at the University of
Rome “La Sapienza” and author of works on Giordano Bruno and censorship,
joined the project to help prepare the critical apparatus. The first result is
volume 1 in four tomes dealing with the sixteenth century.
The work does three things. It offers ample historical introductions about
the history and operations of the two congregations in the censorship of scientific and other works, as well as explanations for all the different kinds of
documents published. Tome 1 begins with a 128-page general introduction.
The editors offer a broad definition of science that includes the many different kinds of works, from commentaries on Genesis touching on cosmology,
to Aristotelian science (which studied qualitative change), to astrology and
the like, that the sixteenth century viewed as science.The editors also include
books on disciplines that the modern world considers to be science. Second,
the work publishes many documents that illuminate the workings of the two
congregations, explain censorship and expurgation procedures, and much
else. For example, the editors include documents appointing consultores to
the Congregation of the Index, mostly clergymen from religious orders,
charged with examining and censoring books.Third, the volumes print all the
surviving Index and Inquisition documentation that concern eighty-six individuals or their works.These documents concern the banning or expurgation
of the books of an author, or material concerning his trial by the Holy Office,
or Italian authors whose works were viewed as suspect, such as Girolamo
Cardano. Such documents fill about 1850 pages. For each entry the editors
provide a brief introduction, then the documents, plus extensive notes.
The Index and the Inquisition did not aim to censor science or to bridle
dissent against Aristotelian natural philosophy. Rather, they aimed to control
the religious mentality of the Italian population. Hence, when the Holy Office
tried an author, it was because it suspected that his religious views were
heretical.And when the Index expurgated a work, it deleted or altered what
it saw as religious statements, not scientific views per se.
A few examples illustrate what the documents reveal and the meticulous
scholarship of the editors. The censorship of the works of Theophrastus
Philippus Aureolus Bombastus von Hohenheim, called Paracelsus (1493/94–
1541), is one.The Congregation did not turn its attention to his works, many
of which were written in German, until a Latin opera omnia edition
appeared in 1575. The censors found plenty to censor, because Paracelsus
offered religious views consonant with Protestantism. In addition, he fiercely
criticized churchmen, at one point comparing them with the devil. He
described religion as a work of beasts. And he dabbled in magic and
demonology. The volume publishes the expurgations proposed by censors in
the 1580s and 1590s.The editors provide notes summarizing the content of
the expurgated passages based on examination of sixteenth-century editions
of Paracelsus’ works.This is painstaking but useful scholarly labor. Despite the

78

CHURCH CENSORSHIP OF SCIENCE IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY

expurgation efforts, the Clementine Index of 1596 banned all of Paracelsus’s
works. However, in an apparent reversal of policy, the Congregation of the
Index in 1597 and 1598 ordered his works to be corrected by members of the
college of doctors of medicine of the University of Padua. Such changes in
direction and duplication of effort are found throughout the documents.
Paracelsus was dead; Girolamo Borri (1512–92) was alive and a professor
of Aristotelian natural philosophy at the University of Pisa. The Inquisition
tried him four times (1551–53, 1562–65, 1570–74, and 1583), as a consequence of accusations of holding Lutheran and Sacramentarian beliefs, possession of prohibited books, and rejecting the immortality of the soul.
Although he was briefly imprisoned several times and abjured in 1583, he
resumed teaching after every trial.
The reader will want to know about Giordano Bruno. In a very rare exception to the earlier closed policy, Luigi Firpo was permitted entry into the Holy
Office archive in 1947 and published what he found about Bruno in 1948 and
1949. Baldini and Spruit found only two new documents, neither of great
interest.
By contrast, Baldini and Spruit offer much new material on licenses (permissions) to hold and read prohibited books. Previous scholars were aware
that they existed but, lacking the documents, could not assess their importance.They were far more numerous and extensive than previously believed.
In their introduction to this section, Baldini and Spruit offer a brief history of
the licenses. Many ecclesiastical authorities could issue them: the two congregations, the master of the sacred palace (the pope’s theologian, always a
Dominican, who had particular authority over books and censorship in the
papal state), local bishops, and local inquisitors.They could issue licenses to
read an individual title or a number of prohibited books. Indeed, the majority of licenses went to more than one person and were permissions to read
multiple books.They could confer blanket permissions to read any prohibited
book, and licenses could be extended to others. For example, in 1559 Cardinal
Michele Ghislieri, vice-prefect of the Inquisition and the future Pope Pius V,
granted to Diego Laínez, superior general of the Jesuits, blanket permission to
read any prohibited book in certain categories, plus the authority to extend
this permission to all other Jesuits at his discretion. Once the genie was out
of the box, it could not be put back. On the whole the Congregation of the
Index favored granting more licenses, especially in the last years of the sixteenth century, while the Congregation of the Holy Office sought to deny
them. The petitioners most often wanted to read the works of Girolamo
Cardano and Francesco Giorgio; the works of Konrad Gessner, Leonhart
Fuchs, and others followed.
Licenses to read prohibited books were granted to individuals from
many professions and ranks of society, including one woman. In 1582
Margherita Gonzaga d’Este (1564–1618), daughter of Duke Guglielmo I

BY PAUL F. GRENDLER

79

Gonzaga of Mantua and wife of Duke Alfonso II d’Este of Ferrara, asked on
behalf of her younger sister Anna (1566–1621) a license so that Anna might
read a banned “tractantem de arte Mathematicae.” (p. 2633). However, the
greatest number of requests came from, and were granted to, university professors and physicians.
Baldini and Spruit conclude that “some thousands of people in Italy were
authorized to read a number of prohibited books” in the second half of the
sixteenth century” (p. 2594). Considering the fact that the licenses to read
prohibited books discovered in the archives of the Index and Holy Office
were only a part of the total, and that many individuals held prohibited books
without permission, it is clear that prohibited scientific works were widely
available. Baldini and Spruit cautiously estimate that the total Italian readership for scientific books was “probably less than five percent” (p. 2595),
because the books were in Latin and for readers with specialized interests.
They may have overestimated the size of the readership. Baldini and Spruit
see the license policy as evidence that the Church could not completely
ignore the practical needs of society. Of course, licenses to read nonscientific
prohibited books appear in the documents as well, but are not included
unless the document involved scientific works. Licenses to read prohibited
books, especially scientific works, provide evidence that censorship did not
prevent Italian scholars from following European intellectual developments.
While the editors concentrate on the complex detailed story that the documents tell, they offer some cautious general statements.They reject the traditional view that the Catholic Church was an obstacle to scientific progress.
But they note that censorship had effects. They make a distinction between
the direct and indirect effects of the trials, prohibitions, corrections, and
expurgations enacted by Index and Inquisition. They do not see the direct
effects as great. First, the average time between the publication of a work and
its prohibition (years, often decades) was long enough that most specialists
had time to read a book before it was placed on the Index. And prohibition
did not impede its influence on scientific debates, because future generations
of readers could acquaint themselves with the scientific and technical issues
in a banned book by reading other books that were allowed. Moreover, there
was considerable disobedience and ignorance of the prohibitions; finally,
licenses to read the works could be obtained.
Nor do the editors believe that censorship necessarily caused scholars to
shift to safer disciplines, such as from heliocentric astronomy to the study of
hydrostatics, mechanics, physiology, medicine, and botany, at least in the sixteenth century. Many other factors affected the research choices of scholars.
On the other hand, they conclude that the indirect effects of censorship,
although very difficult to assess, must have been great. The prohibitions,
expurgations, and confiscations of books, all of which increased in the last
decade of the sixteenth century, created a climate of uncertainty and intimi-

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CHURCH CENSORSHIP OF SCIENCE IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY

dation.This may have caused as much harm as confiscations and bonfires of
books. Baldini and Spruit conclude that it is reasonable to presume that some
authors decided not to publish out of fear of the possible consequences.
Some historical ironies emerge from the documents. In 1587 Pope Sixtus
V appointed Paolo Sarpi (1552–1623), then procurator general of the Servants
of Mary, as a consultant to the Congregation of the Index charged with censoring books. In the early-seventeenth century the Congregation of the Index
banned many of his works.The censor became the censored.
Tome 4 begins with short biographies of authors whose books were subject to proceedings noted in the documents.Then come lists, charts, and diagrams: lists of edited documents and authors of these documents, a chart of
Holy Office trials and Index proceedings, a list of consultants to the
Congregation of the Index, and analyses of the licenses requested and
granted. An enormous bibliography of about 3000 primary and secondary
books cited, plus documents from other archives and libraries follow.Tome 4
concludes with an index of names.
This is an enormously useful work that belongs in all scholarly libraries.
Scholars of science, of the Church, of the Index and Inquisition, and other disciplines and topics will be grateful to the authors.

THE NATIONAL EDITION OF THE DIARIES OF
ANGELO GIUSEPPE RONCALLI/POPE JOHN XXIII:
A BIBLIOGRAPHICAL ESSAY
BY

FRANK J. COPPA*
Edizione nazionale dei diari di Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli–Giovanni XXIII.
1: Il Giornale dell’Anima: Soliloqui, note e diari spirituali. By Angelo
Giuseppe Roncalli/Pope John XXIII. Edited by Alberto Melloni. (Bologna:
Istituto per le scienze religiose, Fondazione per le scienze religiose
Giovanni XXIII, 1987. Pp. l, 545. €50,00. ISBN 978-8-890-11070-8.)
Edizione nazionale dei diari di Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli–Giovanni
XXIII.2: Nelle mani di Dio a servizio dell’uomo: I diari di don Roncalli,
1905–1925. By Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli/Pope John XXIII. Edited by
Lucia Butturini. (Bologna: Istituto per le scienze religiose, Fondazione per
le scienze religiose Giovanni XXIII, 2008. Pp. xlviii, 598. €50,00. ISBN 9788-890-11075-7.)
Edizione nazionale dei diari di Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli–Giovanni XXIII.
3:Tener da conto:Agendine di Bulgaria, 1925–1934. By Angelo Giuseppe
Roncalli/Pope John XXIII. Edited by Massimo Faggioli. (Bologna: Istituto
per le scienze religiose, Fondazione per le scienze religiose Giovanni
XXIII, 2008. Pp. 1285. €50,00. ISBN 978-8-896-11800-9.)
Edizione nazionale dei diari di Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli–Giovanni XXIII. 4:
La mia vita in Oriente: Agende del delegato apostolico, 1935–1939. By
Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli/Pope John XXIII. Edited by Valeria Martano.
(Bologna: Istituto per le scienze religiose, Fondazione per le scienze religiose
Giovanni XXIII, 2006. Pp. xxxvi, 823. €50,00. ISBN 978-8-890-11077-5.)
Edizione nazionale dei diari di Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli–Giovanni XXIII.
4.1: La mia vita in Oriente: Agende del delegato apostolico, 1935–1939.
Edited by Valeria Martano. (Bologna: Istituto per le scienze religiose,
Fondazione per le scienze religiose Giovanni XXIII, 2006. Pp. xxxvi, 823.
€50,00. ISBN 978-8-890-11077-5.)
Edizione nazionale dei diari di Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli–Giovanni XXIII.
4.2: La mia vita in Oriente: Agende del delegato apostolico, 1940–1944.
Edited by Valeria Martano. (Bologna: Istituto per le scienze religiose,
Fondazione per le scienze religiose Giovanni XXIII, 2008. Pp. xxii, 865.
€50,00. ISBN 978-8-896-11801-6.)
Edizione nazionale dei diari di Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli–Giovanni
XXIII.5.1: Anni di Francia: Agende del nunzio, 1945–1948. Edited by Éti81

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DIARIES OF ANGELO GIUSEPPE RONCALLI/POPE JOHN XXIII

enne Fouilloux. (Bologna: Istituto per le scienze religiose, Fondazione per
le scienze religiose Giovanni XXIII, 2004. Pp. xxx, 595. €50,00. ISBN 978-8890-11071-6.)
Edizione nazionale dei diari di Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli–Giovanni
XXIII.5.2: Anni di Francia: Agende del nunzio, 1949–1953. Edited by Étienne Fouilloux. (Bologna: Istituto per le scienze religiose, Fondazione per
le scienze religiose Giovanni XXIII, 2006. Pp. xxiv, 727. €50,00. ISBN 978-8890-11079-1.)
Edizione nazionale dei diari di Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli–Giovanni XXIII.
6.1: Pace e Vangelo: Agende del patriarca, 1953–1955. Edited by Enrico
Galavotti. (Bologna: Istituto per le scienze religiose, Fondazione per le
scienze religiose Giovanni XXIII, 2008. Pp. xxix, 997. €50,00. ISBN 978-8890-11074-0.)
Edizione nazionale dei diari di Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli–Giovanni XXIII.
6.2: Pace e Vangelo: Agende del patriarca, 1956–1958. Edited by Enrico
Galavotti. (Bologna: Istituto per le scienze religiose, Fondazione per le
scienze religiose Giovanni XXIII, 2008. Pp. xxvi, 811. €50,00. ISBN 978-8890-11076-4.)
Edizione nazionale dei diari di Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli–Giovanni XXIII.
7: Pater amabilis: Agende del pontefice, 1958–1963. Edited by Mauro
Velati. (Bologna: Istituto per le scienze religiose, Fondazione per le scienze
religiose Giovanni XXIII, 2007. Pp. xxxvii, 569. €50,00. ISBN 978-8-89011072-6.)
Edizione nazionale dei diari di Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli–Giovanni XXIII.
8: Pace e Vangelo. Agende del patriarca 1: 1953–1955. Edited by Enrico
Galavotti. (Bologna: Istituto per le scienze religiose, Fondazione per le
scienze religiose Giovanni XXIII, 2008. Pp xxix, 997. €50,00. ISBN 978-8890-11074-0.)
Edizione nazionale dei diari di Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli–Giovanni XXIII.
9: Pace e Vangelo. Agende del patriarca 2: 1956–1958. Edited by Enrico
Galavotti. (Bologna: Istituto per le scienze religiose, Fondazione per le
scienze religiose Giovanni XXIII, 2008. Pp. xxvi, 811. €50,00. ISBN 978-8890-11076-4.)
Edizione nazionale dei diari di Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli–Giovanni XXIII.
10: Pater amabilis. Agende del pontifice, 1958–1963. Edited by Mauro
Velati. (Bologna: Istituto per le scienze religiose, Fondazione per le scienze
religiose Giovanni XXIII, 2007. Pp. xxxvii, 569. €50,00. ISBN 978-8-89011072-6.)
Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli, whose pontificate lasted from 1958 to 1963, is
perhaps one of the most beloved popes of the twentieth century and hailed
by some as “Il Papa Buono” or “Good Pope John.” Liberal Catholics and reformers have praised him for invoking the updating, or aggiornamento, of the
Church; his call for its aperturismo, or opening, to the contemporary world;

BY FRANK J. COPPA

83

and his convoking the Second Vatican Council in October 1962 to achieve
these and other progressive changes, while preserving ecclesiastical unity. His
encyclicals1 such as Princeps Pastorum of November 1959 (“On the
Missions”), Mater et Magistra of May 1961 (“On Christian and Social
Progress”), and Pacem in Terris of April 1963 (“On Universal Peace in Truth”)
are known worldwide.2 In the year 2000 he was beatified alongside Pope Pius
IX (1846–78).
Although the official papers of his pontificate in the Archivio Segreto
Vaticano (ASV) remain closed, John XXIII certainly is the best known pope of
the century.This flows from the fact that, unlike a number of other popes of
the age—especially his aloof and taciturn predecessor Pius XII (1939–58)
who, just before his death, ordered many of his private papers burned3—the
outgoing and talkative Roncalli expressed himself openly and often on religious and secular issues, both verbally and in writing. Indeed, from time to
time Roncalli concluded that he had to be more reserved, talked too much,
and needed to curb his tongue—even with those with whom he was close.4
Roncalli revealed his inner thoughts and expressed concern over a series
of religious, clerical, and career issues over the years. He did so in a series of
diaries, journals, letters, and other works from adolescence to old age while a
student, priest, secretary to the bishop of Bergamo, diplomat, patriarch of
Venice, and finally as pope. Following John’s death in 1963, some of these
writings were hastily published with the assistance of Archbishop Loris
Francesco Capovilla, who had served as John’s personal secretary and was
named the executor of John’s literary works. In 1964 the first Italian edition
of John’s Il giornale dell’anima appeared, followed by his Lettere ai familiari (Rome, 1968), Lettere 1958–1963 (Rome, 1978), and other writings.5 The
compilation of the original edition of the Journal of a Soul, which included
John’s commentary from 1895 to 1962, proved more devotional than scholarly in its construction. Nonetheless, it aroused great interest; in the first year
*Dr. Coppa is professor emeritus of history at St. John’s University in New York and
associate editor of the New Catholic Encyclopedia.
1
English versions of John’s encyclicals can be found in The Papal Encyclicals,
1958–1981, ed. Claudia Carlen (Raleigh, NC, 1981), V:5–129, and online at
http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/john_xxiii/encyclicals
2
His five other encyclicals (Ad Petri Cathedram, June 1959; Sacerdotii Nostri
Primordia, August 1959; Grata Recordatio, September 1959; Aeterna Dei Sapientia,
November 1961; and Paenitentiam Agere, July 1962), although less well known, are
hardly unknown.
3
Pater amabilis.Agende del pontifice, 1958–1963, ed. Maura Velati (Bologna, 2007),
p. x.
4
“Spiritual Retreat of 1927 in Slovenia” in Il Giornale dell’Anima. Soliloqui, note e
diari spirituali, ed. and annot.Alberto Melloni (Bologna, 2003), pp. 305–07, here p. 305.
5
These volumes were all edited by Capovilla and published in Rome in Storia e
Letteratura editions.

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DIARIES OF ANGELO GIUSEPPE RONCALLI/POPE JOHN XXIII

of its publication, it was translated into French, English, German, Spanish, and
Portuguese, as well as a number of non-European languages.
As early as January 1986 Alberto Melloni6 expressed his conviction “that Il
Giornale dell’Anima provided a crucial point for a better understanding of
John XXIII” and attributed some of the weaknesses of Peter Hebblethwaite’s
biography, Pope John XXIII (New York, 1985), to his failure to grasp the core
of Journal of a Soul.7 Convinced of its centrality, Melloni edited and annotated the first critical issue of the Journal of a Soul (Bologna, 2003). Its preparation and publication brought to the fore the question of its relationship to
Roncalli’s other diaries and writings, as well as the need for an integrated
compilation.
In 1999 Nino Andreatta, president of the Foundation for the Religious
Thought of John XXIII, noting the historical importance and cultural influence of John’s writings, proposed the creation of a national commission to
publish an integrated and critical edition of all his diaries.8 A ministerial
decree created this commission on January 16, 2001. After the honorary committee assigned to the project was consulted,9 work commenced on this edition in January 2001, led by Giuseppe Alberigo of the University of Bologna.
Following Alberigo’s death in 2007, its work was brought to completion by
Melloni.10 A group of scholars collaborated in the project, which, in 2008—
exactly fifty years after Roncalli’s election as pope—announced the publication of seven titles in ten volumes with some 6500 pages of text. It represented an important achievement. However, a year after their presentation,
Melloni noted that the body of Roncalli’s writings was immense, and com6
Alberto Melloni teaches contemporary history and the history of Christianity at
the University of Modena in Reggio-Emilia, and directs the Bologna foundation for the
study of the religious thought of John XXIII. He has published widely on church-state
relations in the twentieth century as well as on John XXIII and the Second Vatican
Council.
7
Alberto Melloni,“Pope John XXIII: Open Questions for a Biography,” The Catholic
Historical Review, 72 (1986), 51–67, here 54.
8
The commission included Giuseppe Alberigo, University of Bologna; Mario
Benigni, Seminary of Bergamo; Monsignor Giuseppe Croce, Archivio Segreto Vaticano;
Carlo D’Adda, University of Bologna; Gabriele De Rosa, University of Rome “La
Sapienza”; Gianfranco Fioravanti, University of Pisa; Étienne Fouilloux, University of
Lyon; Agostino Giovagnoli, Catholic University of the Sacred Heart, Milan; Claudio
Leonardi, University of Florence; Melloni; Carlo Ossola, Collège de France, Paris;Andrea
Riccardi, University of Rome; and Cardinal Roberto Tucci, the Vatican.
9
The committee was composed of Monsignor Loris F. Capovilla, titular archbishop
of Mesembria and former secretary to John XIII; Cardinal Franz König, emeritus archbishop of Vienna; Cardinal Francesco Marchisano, the Vatican; and Monsignor Sergio
Pagano, prefect of the Archivio Segreto Vaticano.
10
See the obituary of Alberigo (1926–2007) by Melloni in The Catholic Historical
Review, 93 (2007), 1030–32.

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85

plained that only his agendas and diaries had been produced in an integrated
and critical edition.11 Others lamented that to date the newly published
diaries were only available in Italian.12 Still others found the work too expensive, with each volume priced at €50 and the set priced at €500.
Vol. 1—Il Giornale dell’Anima. Soliloqui, note e diari spirituali
The first volume, Il Giornale dell’Anima. Soliloqui, note e diari spirituali
(Journal of a Soul: Soliloquies, Notes, and Spiritual Diaries), contains the
thoughts and works of the young Angelo as early as age fourteen, recounting
his experiences as a seminarian and his religious evolution, among other factors. It serves a dual function. On the one hand, it helps sets the stage for the
nine volumes that follow by explaining the early evolution of Roncalli’s
thought and action. It explores the future pope’s development and traces his
spiritual life from early adolescence to his seminary experience, followed by
his career as a priest, a papal diplomat in Europe, patriarch of Venice, and
finally Pope John XXIII. It helps explain his religious and cultural evolution
while confirming his profound influence not only on the ecclesiastical community but also on the lay world beyond. As presented, John’s commentary
will appeal to the general reader, while Melloni’s rigorous editing and scholarship—manifest in his notes—will attract the specialist.
Clearly the Giornale dell’Anima is a mixture in terms of allocation of
space—half of the work concentrates on the period from 1895 to 1914, while
the second half dwells on the subsequent fifty-eight years.13 Not surprisingly,
the commentary and notation is far from uniform so that, in some years,
Roncalli often provides a day-by-day diary, but in other periods, he skips days,
weeks, months, and even years—material that the commission has determined to present elsewhere. It will be consulted, if not read in its entirety, by
those planning to plunge into the remaining nine volumes and those delving
into the pontificate of John XXIII and the contemporary Church and papacy.
In this regard, the index of names provided in Melloni’s volume and the other
nine volumes will prove eminently useful for those seeking to assess John’s
reaction to a particular person. It would have been even more useful if the
editors had differentiated whether the citation of a name was within the diary
or the editor’s commentary. On the other hand, the failure to include an index
of topics in any of the volumes hinders rather than helps the scholar who
must examine thousands of comments, some of little interest to the
researcher and often admittedly mundane.
11
Alberto Melloni, Papa Giovanni. Un cristiano e il suo concilio (Turin, 2009),
p. 50.
12
Only the introductions and editor’s notes in the two volumes of Roncalli’s stay in
France (France: Anni di Francia, 1945–1948 and Anni di Francia, 1949–1953) are in
French.
13
Il Giornale dell’Anima, ed. and annot. Melloni, p. xi.

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Vol. 2—Nelle mani di Dio a servizio dell’uomo
The second volume in Roncalli’s diaries is Nelle mani di Dio a servizio
dell’uomo (In the Hands of God for the Service of Humanity) and focuses
on the two decades following Roncalli’s ordination in 1904. Like Melloni,
editor Lucia Butturini provides a useful introduction (pp. vii–xxxvi), which
notes that during the first of these decades, he served as secretary to the liberal-minded bishop of Bergamo, Giacomo Radini Tedeschi (1905–14), who
was clearly admired by Roncalli—as is revealed in this and subsequent
diaries. The entries reveal that Radini had a profound influence on Roncalli.
The young priest particularly appreciated the pastoral approach of the bishop
and resented the charges of modernism launched against him by envious enemies (pp. xi–xii). Following the death of Radini in 1914 and Italy’s entry into
World War I in 1915, Roncalli was called to military service. After war’s end,
Monsignor Luigi Maria Marelli, Radini’s successor, selected Roncalli in 1919 to
serve as spiritual director of the seminary until he was called to Rome in 1920
to preside over the Society for the Propagation of the Faith. He remained in
Rome for the next five years until February 1925, when Pius XI (1922–39)
appointed him apostolic visitor to Bulgaria. As a result, Roncalli would be
embroiled in Vatican diplomacy for the greater part of the next three decades.
Roncalli’s notations and other writings during his years in Bergamo and
Rome reveal both his commitment to traditionalism and his call for a degree
of reformism, sharing Radini’s aim of bringing about a re-Christianization of
state and society (p. 5). He was also impressed with and influenced by the
bishop’s call for social justice (p. 239). Indeed, in much of his daily commentary he depicts Radini as the ideal priest and bishop (pp. 9–10). Roncalli therefore resented the unwarranted aspersions of modernism against his bishop,
whom he judged eminently faithful to the Church and the papacy (pp.
74–80). In September–October 1906 Roncalli traveled with Radini to the Holy
Land, which represented for him the first experience with the Orient, initial
contact with the Muslim world, and interaction with non-Catholic Christians
(p. 138). It also contributed to his love of travel, which would endure until the
end of his life.At this stage, he tended to reflect traditionalist sentiments and
felt sorry for these Christians who remained outside the Church (p. 140).
Despite the persistence of the Roman Question and the ongoing conflict
between church and state during and after World War I, Roncalli, like the
greater part of the Italian hierarchy and clergy, remained faithful to the Italian
cause. Indeed, Roncalli was convinced that God favored and blessed the
Allied camp, which championed liberty and justice (pp. 220–21, 375). The
complete Allied victory for him seemed a dream come true (p. 377). Love of
country clearly influenced Roncalli’s assessment, which he hoped would
ensure the triumph of the Church, Christ, and the pope (p. 401). In his written statements Roncalli later assumed a more balanced position vis à vis
Mussolini’s “March on Rome” and the triumph of the Duce. Readily acknowl-

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87

edging the chaotic condition in the peninsula, he questioned whether the
Duce alone had the solution to the Italian problem. Subsequently acknowledging Mussolini’s efforts and contributions, he believed that, although some
of his ends were good, his means were iniquitous. For this and other reasons,
he wrote in 1924 that he could not in good conscience vote for the fascists
(p. 539). Nonetheless, when he heard that Mussolini had been forced to resign,
Roncalli wrote in 1943 that the good things he did for Italy would remain.14
Vol. 3—Tener da conto. Agendine di Bulgaria, 1925–1934
The third volume in the series, Tener da conto. Agendine di
Bulgaria, 1925–1934 (To Keep into Account: The Diaries from Bulgaria,
1925–1934), deal with Roncalli’s decade-long and unexpected appointment
as apostolic delegate in that country. Roncalli was both surprised and somewhat disappointed when Cardinal Pietro Gasparri, the secretary of state,
informed him of his impending consecration as titular bishop and nomination
as apostolic visitor to Bulgaria, which appeared to be a secondary appointment that would take him away from fatherland and family. However, he submitted to Pius XI’s “request” and preserved his loyalty to the papacy. He acquiesced not only out of loyalty to the pope but also because he could maintain
contact with his sisters and continue to provide them with financial assistance (p. 11). In fact, the aid he provided to his family, salaries of his employees, charities he funded, and household expenses both capital and petty are
all duly noted in his Bulgarian “diary.” Somewhat surprisingly, his notations
here focus neither on political nor religious matters but on financial issues—
when, what, and to whom he gave funds. In this third volume editor Massimo
Faggioli reveals in meticulous detail what Roncalli includes in his catalogues
of expenses while in Bulgaria, but tells us far less about Ronalli’s rationale for
doing so.
Vol. 4—La mia vita in Oriente. Agende del delegato apostolico,
1935–1939
The scope and pagination of Roncalli’s next “diary,” La mia vita in
Oriente. Agende del delegato apostolico, 1935–1939 (My Life in the Orient:
Memoranda of the Apostolic Delegate, 1935–39), is broader while the time
frame is shorter.This volume gathers the notes of Roncalli as apostolic delegate in Turkey and Greece, following his appointment at the end of 1934. It is
a massive volume of almost 800 pages; the editor has a doctorate in social and
religious studies and a special interest in Eastern Christianity. Roncalli would
spend twenty years in the Orient, with only brief interruptions, returning permanently to Europe only in 1944. During his first five years in Greece and
Turkey, Roncalli jotted down his thoughts practically every day, even if only
14
Notation of July 26, 1943, in vol. 4.2, La mia vita in Oriente: Agende del delegato
apostolico, 1940–1944, p. 594.

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DIARIES OF ANGELO GIUSEPPE RONCALLI/POPE JOHN XXIII

to note that he spent the day working at home (p. 37). In these notes he often
reported on personal developments such as his reaction to the death of his
father at the end of July 1935 (p. 69).Although Roncalli’s notations were relatively brief, they become more detailed, varied, and less chronological
beginning in 1936. Some of his notes refer to little-known individuals and
events. This shortcoming is overcome by the copious and meticulous editorial commentary of Valeria Martana, which places Roncalli’s topics in some
perspective.
During the course of his tenure in the Orient, Roncalli confronted difficulties there as well as issues at home. Among the latter were the death of
Pius XI on February 10, 1939 (pp. 634–42); the election of Eugenio Pacelli as
Pius XII, whose thought and program paralleled his own (p. 645); the new
pope’s abortive peace efforts (p. 667); the impending threat of war (pp.
720–21); and the Nazi invasion of Poland. Apparently accepting Pius XII’s
recourse to impartiality, Roncalli nonetheless wrote on September 29, 1939,
“My duty to remain outside the realm of politics cannot stop me from crying
over Poland which is slain and martyred. It is a great Catholic nation which
once again is subjected to slavery” (pp. 732–33). In fact, Roncalli would subsequently take steps against Nazi iniquities, which can be seen from a reading
of the second massive volume of his diaries from the East, La mia vita in
Oriente. Agende del delegato apostolico:1940–1944 (My Life in the Orient:
Memoranda of the Apostolic Delegate, 1940–1944).
Vol. 5—La mia vita in Oriente. Agende del delegato apostolico:
1940–1944
Although the second half of Roncalli’s stay in the Orient was dominated
by World War II (p.vii), he was able to move freely from neutral Turkey to
occupied Greece and occasionally return to Rome, Milan, and his family home
in Sotto il Monte. However, he was acutely aware of the hardships faced by
the civilian populations of Europe and the flood of refugees seeking to escape
persecution, especially as the Nazis implemented their final solution.15 In
Turkey he met with Jews almost on a daily basis and sympathized with their
plight. While he adhered to the papal policy of impartiality and would not
publicly take sides in the conflict, internally he classified the villains and the
victims but carefully watched what he wrote in his diary (pp. vii–ix). He followed Pius XI’s defense of the Semitic and oriental origins of Christianity, and
joined him in the condemnation of antisemitism (p. xvi), but did so quietly.
However, always in the name of the Holy Father, he took steps to aid the Jews
and, among other actions, intervened to stop the removal of some 20,000
Jews from Slovakia (p. xvii).
15
During the author’s studies under Hans Rosenberg at Brooklyn College in the
1950s, Rosenberg never referred to the Holocaust but made reference to the “Final
Solution.”

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89

Reports very likely reached the Vatican of Roncalli’s steps on behalf of the
Jews, for, during Roncalli’s forty-five-minute audience with Pius XII on
October 10, 1941, the pope raised the Jewish issue. He asked whether his
silence on Nazi behavior was judged adversely. Roncalli neither relates the
context in which Pius XII brought forward the topic of silence nor how he
responded (pp. 290–91).Whatever was said and done by Roncalli apparently
did not disappoint Pius XII, who in December 1944 named him nuncio to
Paris (p. 667). He did so despite the opposition of some in the Secretariat of
State who questioned his credentials for this most important post.16
Vol. 6—Anni di Francia: Agende del nunzio, 1945–1948
Vol. 7—Anni di Francia: Agende del nunzio, 1949–1953
Roncalli would spend the greater part of the next decade in Paris, and his
diaries from this period are catalogued in two volumes: Anni di Francia:
Agende del nunzio, 1945–1948 (Years in France: Notes of the Nuncio,
1945–1948) and Anni di Francia: Agende del nunzio, 1949–1953 (Years in
France: Notes of the Nuncio, 1949–1953). In his introduction to the first
volume (pp. vii–xxviii), Étienne Fouilloux, a specialist in the history of
Christianity in the twentieth century, catalogues the problems confronted by
the nuncio in a France that had faced occupation, division, and something
resembling a civil war. To complicate matters, there was criticism of the
French hierarchy many of whose members had displayed an anti-Republic
bias leading to the postwar call for the resignation and withdrawal of most of
its members. Furthermore, the new nuncio’s understanding of spoken French
was not good (p. xiii), and some questioned Pius XII’s appointment. In fact,
Roncalli’s prudence and amiability allowed the Vatican to replace a small
number and retain most of the French hierarchy, vindicating the trust that the
pope had placed in him.
Despite his success, considerable opposition to Roncalli persisted among
the Vatican diplomatic bureaucrats who still questioned his “diplomacy of
love and amiability,” manifest in his social and cultural activities alongside his
religious obligations. His social activity was indeed broad and described in
some detail in his diaries, while political matters were downplayed for prudential reasons. Some in Rome challenged the nuncio’s approach and
doubted his diplomatic competence.Word of this discontent was noted in his
diary entry of April 2, 1946 (pp. 166–67), in the first volume of his entries in
France, but once again the intervention of Pius XII secured Roncalli’s position
(p. 127). Nonetheless, in an audience of September 27, 1946, Pius listed the
three major complaints launched against his nunciature: (1) that he sent too
few reports to Rome, (2) that he was something of a gossip, and (3) that he
was too often out of Paris for feasts and other social gatherings (p. 232).
16
See Roncalli’s notes of December 28 and 29 in Anni di Francia, 1945–1948,
pp. 5–7.

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DIARIES OF ANGELO GIUSEPPE RONCALLI/POPE JOHN XXIII

Despite these complaints, Pius kept Roncalli in France even though the
nuncio did not substantially change his behavior. He faced problems in Paris
as well as in Rome, as the French government refused to accept the Vatican’s
list of episcopal promotions and, in doing so, bypassed the nuncio (p. 271).
These problems persisted into 1948, although neither the French government
nor Pius XII called for his withdrawal from Paris.
In fact, Roncalli would remain in Paris another four years. During this
time, as in the earlier period, he managed to stay clear of such controversies
as the worker-priest movement, cooperation with the Communists, the
“new theology” condemned by Pius XII, and the Vatican’s suspicion of historicism in the interpretation of Scripture.This discretion was displayed in
his diaries from 1949 to 1953, which appear more tranquil and positive than
his previous ones. He maintained a wide circle of friends and acquaintances, dined with various ecclesiastical and governmental figures, and continued to travel widely and take vacations. On September 16, 1949, he had
an audience with Pius XII at Castel Gandolfo, and, although the pope was
friendly, he asked some pointed questions about French developments (p.
107). Pius XII continued to nourish concerns about events in Paris; and
although he remained amiable to his nuncio in France, Pius, by September
1952, had decided to replace him. He knew that after some thirty years associated with Vatican diplomacy, Roncalli was interested in a purely pastoral
ministry. In the interim, in June 1952 Pius named him permanent observer
of the Holy See to UNESCO. At the end of November 1952 he made Roncalli
a cardinal and in January 1953 named him to succeeded Carlo Agostini as
patriarch of Venice—a position he would hold for some five years (pp.
478–79).
Vol. 8—Pace e Vangelo. Agende del patriarca 1: 1953–1955
The notations and diary of Roncalli’s first years in Venice are collected in
Pace e Vangelo. Agende del patriarca 1: 1953–1955 (Peace and the Gospel:
Notes of the Patriarch). On March 15, 1953, when Roncalli entered Venice, he
addressed the clergy in Latin and the population in Italian. His pronouncement was a humble one that noted that his abilities and accomplishments had
been exaggerated; instead, he presented himself as a simple man who followed the gospel and loved humanity (pp. vii, 24–25). His honesty, openness,
and outreach to the various parties (including the socialists) won the hearts
of a good part of the population. He retained this good will as a result of his
pastoral activities and social concerns on behalf of the population, but he
alarmed conservatives in the Vatican. In the months that followed, he met
with all sorts of groups, moved within a wide circle of lay and ecclesiastical
friends, and entertained a host of visitors from Rome.17
17
In Pace e Vangelo. Agende del patriarca 1: 1953–1955, see notation of June 19,
1953, pp. 84–86.

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91

As early as fall 1949, Roncalli believed the pope’s health was declining.18
During the early 1950s Roncalli continued to worry about the pope’s poor
health, expressing his concerns in early March 1954 to his family (p. 232). His
worries flowed from reports he received from Rome; he also might have
heard from Dr. Antonio Gasbarrini (1882–1963) who treated the pope and
was later consulted by Roncalli.19 He made his concerns public on December
3, 1954, when he invoked prayers on behalf of Pius XII. On December 4, he
repeated the call, fearing that Pius XII was at death’s door (p. 397). Roncalli
believed the prayers were effective, for, by 1955, he had learned that pope’s
health had improved and was confident the pope would retain him as patriarch of Venice. He would indeed remain in Venice some three more years.
Vol. 9—Pace e Vangelo. Agende del patriarca 2: 1956–1958
Roncalli’s diaries during the following years in Venice would be catalogued
in Pace e Vangelo. Agende del patriarca 2: 1956–1958 (Peace and the
Gospel: Notes of the Patriarch 2:1956–1958) also edited by Enrico Galavotti.
After 1955 he accentuated his pastoral program, borrowing from Radini
Tedeschi (p. x) as well as the Holy Father. In his entry of March 2, 1956, he
noted his appreciation for the efforts of Pius XII, whose birthday he recognized and celebrated (p. 56). In 1957, Roncalli convoked the diocesan synod
of Venice and first addressed the need of the Church and clergy for aggiornamento to fulfill their mission in contemporary society (p. 287). He believed
this was bound to please the pope as well as his pastoral letters and invitation
to visit Lourdes.20 However, starting at the end of 1957, the health of Pius
began to deteriorate, and he died on October 9, 1958. Roncalli unexpectedly
responded rationally rather than emotionally to his death and almost immediately opened discussions on a possible successor (p. xxi). On October 12 he
left Venice for the conclave in Rome, continuing to discuss who would succeed. This was decided on October 28 when Roncalli was elected and took
the name of John.The new pope called for aperturismo, aggiornamento, and
reconciliation.
Vol. 10—Pater amabilis. Agende del pontifice, 1958–1963
The new Pope John XXIII continued to keep a diary of events, which is
found in Pater amabilis. Agende del pontifice, 1958–1963 (Most Amiable
Father: Notes of the Pontiff, 1958–1963). Editor Mauro Velati, professor of
religious history in the University of Bologna, notes, and this is confirmed
18
Notation of September 16, 1949, in Anni di Francia: Agende del nunzio,
1949–1953, p. 107.
19
This physician of special medical pathology was affiliated with the faculty of medicine at the University of Bologna.
20
Entry of October 31, 1957, in vol. 6.2, Pace e Vangelo: Agende del patriarca,
1956–1958.

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DIARIES OF ANGELO GIUSEPPE RONCALLI/POPE JOHN XXIII

by the volume, that once John became pope, he continued his entries but
did so on a less regular basis. The editor believes that such was the case
because he had to adapt to new tasks and a new routine.As time passed and
John felt more secure in his new post, his entries became both more
detailed and regular. Near the end of January 1959 the new pope alerted
only the cardinals of the Church to his threefold program: (1) the creation
of a diocesan synod for Rome, (2) an Ecumenical Council for the Universal
Church, and (3) the revision of the code of canon law (p. 26). It was an
ambitious program whose intricacies could not be revealed in the short
papal entries of this volume. However, his journal entries do shed light on
his religious and political motivation.
Together with the other nine volumes, they clarify much about this pope
and his pontificate for the specialist. Most likely, the general reader will find
the first and final volumes of this collection of greatest interest.

REPORT FROM THE EXECUTIVE SECRETARY AND
TREASURER,ACHA
SPECIAL FUNDS (RESTRICTED ASSETS) FOR 2009
In volume 96, no. 4 (October 1010) of The Catholic Historical Review I
presented the financial statement of the American Catholic Historical
Association for 2009. Monsignor Robert Trisco, the former executive secretarytreasurer, noted that I had not published a separate report on the restricted
funds that are a part of our endowment. For the purposes of financial transparency I will do that now.
As regards to our net assets as of 12/31/09, we have $940,907.52 in total
assets. This divides between $812,360.99 (unrestricted assets) and
$128,546.53 (restricted net assets). Our restricted assets break down by both
fund and investment.
PAUL ROBICHAUD, C.S.P.
Executive Secretary and Treasurer
Restricted Net Assets as of 12/31/09:
Howard R. Marraro Prize:
(T Rowe Price GNMA)
Balance 12/31/2009: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18,124.23
Anne M.Wolf Fund:
(T Rowe Price GNMA)
Balance 12/31/2009: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

5,831.39

The Catholic Historical Review Fund:
Balance 12/31/2009: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

3,191.11

Endowment Fund:
(Vanguard GNMA)
Balance 12/31/2009: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

4,642.50

John Tracy Ellis Memorial Fund:
(Vanguard GNMA)
Balance 12/31/2009: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26,183.03
Harry C. Koenig Fund:
(PIMCO GNMA)
Balance 12/31/2009: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60,574.27
93

94

REPORT FROM THE EXECUTIVE SECRETARY AND TREASURER, ACHA

John Whitney Evans Fund for the John Gilmary Shea Prize Fund:
(PIMCO GNMA)
Balance 12/31/2009: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10,000.00
Total Restricted Net Assets: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128,546.53
Restricted Assets (12/31/2009) by Investment:
T. Rowe Price GNMA: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23,955.62
Vanguard GNMA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30,825.53
PIMCO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70,574.27
Investment Total: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125,355.42
PNC Bank: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

3,191.11

Total: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128,546.53

BOOK REVIEWS
________
General and Miscellaneous
Das Papsttum und das vielgestaltige Italien: Hundert Jahre Italia Pontificia.
Edited by Klaus Herbers and Jochen Johrendt. [Abhandlungen der
Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen, Neue Folge, Band 5. Studien zu
Papstgeschichte und Papsturkunden. ] (New York: de Gruyter, 2009. Pp.
xvi, 721. €149,96; $232.00. ISBN 978-3-110-21467-3).
This volume commemorates a century of Italia Pontificia by offering
twenty-five contributions in German, Italian, and French on the history of the
papacy in Italy. Each contribution ends with a summary, usually in a second
language.Three articles compose the first of six sections.The first, by Michael
Matheus, is on the German Historical Institute in Rome and Paul Kehr’s study
of papal documents. The second is a greeting by Cardinal Raffaele Farina of
the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana.The third, by Klaus Herbers, considers the
various geographical or boundary terms that bear on the contents of the
Italia Pontificia, used in Italy in the early Middle Ages, particularly from the
ninth through twelfth centuries.
The second section of the book consists of two articles on Rome and the
changing centers of power in the early and high Middle Ages. The first, by
Matthias Maser, is on the papacy and the east Roman Empire in the sixth century. The second, by Guglielmo Cavallo, is on the Byzantine influences in the
ninth and tenth centuries between Campania and Latium. The five articles
composing section 3, on the relations between Rome and the churches of
Italy, begin with a piece by Wolfgang Huschner, which uses the examples of
Benevento, Magdeburg, and Salerno to study the papacy and the new archbishoprics of the Ottonian period.The following study, by Jean-Marie Martin,
is specifically of southern Italy (the mainland and Sicilian territories of the
Kingdom of Sicily, Sardinia, Corsica, and Malta). Martin gives a useful treatment of how the Italia Pontificia has treated the Mezzogiorno, with its
unevenly surviving documents, and usefully lists recent discoveries and editions of texts.There follows a substantial study by Maria Pia Alberzoni of the
interventions by the Roman Church in the Milanese ecclesiastical province.
Jochen Johrendt then compares the reception of papal documents in Liguria,
Umbria, and Calabria from 1046 to 1198, revealing various patterns, Liguria
becoming closer to and Calabria farther from Rome over time. Dieter
Girgensohn treats Kehr’s Regesta’s accomplishments and limitations.
The first of nine articles composing the fourth section, by Rudolf Schieffer,
gives an overview of the papal register before 1198.The next, by Lotte Kéry,
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treats the relationships between canonical collections and papal writings.
Then Giulia Barone considers historiographic and hagiographic traditions;
Dietrich Lohrmann discusses twelfth- and thirteenth-century curial reports of
disputed proceedings;Werner Maleczek studies writings emanating from the
cardinals; and Sebastian Scholz asks the question “Epigraphische Zeugnisse
der Päpste in Rom. Ein Desiderat der Italia Pontificia?”. Tommaso di Carpegna Falconieri then makes observations on editions of the Roman documents of the ninth through twelfth centuries. Hubert Houben gives examples
for southern Italy of traces of medieval documents found in modern sources.
Rudolf Hiestand analyzes non-Italian material hidden in the “Papsturkunden in
Italien” and gives five extensive tables classifying these documents.
The fifth section is composed of four studies on the religious orders in
Italy. Rinaldo Comba presents a rich examination of the papacy and the
twelfth-century Cistercians, specifically the ideals and metamorphoses of the
latter. Then Mario Sensi examines the eleventh- and twelfth-century reform
movements of central Italy. Sensi gives up-to-date sections on “monasteri [or
‘chiese’] di famiglia” (proprietary monasteries or churches) and their federations, and on eremeticism. Kristjan Toomaspoeg then treats the religious-military orders.The subsequent piece by Hiestand is on the crusades.The editors
conclude the volume.
A century ago, Kehr was proud of the quality and high achievement of
German historical scholarship. Not all the contributors to the present volume
are German, but the volume is a fine witness to the fact that the things that
Kehr valued still flourish today.
University of Utah

GLENN W. OLSEN

A History of Biblical Interpretation. Vol. 2: The Medieval through the
Reformation Periods. Edited by Alan J. Hauser and Duane F. Watson.
(Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans. 2009. Pp. xii, 570. $50.00. ISBN
978-0-802-84274-9.)
Biblical scholarship from the end of antiquity through the Reformation
and early-modern period is, needless to say, a vast subject. Extant commentaries on biblical books—Jewish and Christian, Catholic and Protestant—are
numerous. Any single effort toward systematizing its contents or even
describing its growth over history is deemed to be fragmentary and incomplete. What should the focus of such an endeavor be? Should it concentrate
on the most influential texts and movements of the period? Or perhaps bring
to light the least studied? Or should the focus be on the exegesis most relevant to its times, or perhaps on the most relevant to our time? These questions are all apparent in this book—the second volume in a series—which
aims to provide a survey of biblical interpretation spanning the 1000 years of
history and the different confessional settings implied by its title.

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97

After a lengthy “Introduction and Overview” contributed by the editors
and seeking to bring the most salient points of the ensuing contributions
together, the first chapter on biblical interpretation proper, “Early Medieval
Exegesis: Gregory I to the Twelfth Century” by Mary A. Mayeski, covers the
first 500 years or so of medieval Western exegesis and seeks to capture its
character as well as describe its methods and development.The result is with
necessity rather patchy given the mere nineteen pages (of which one is a
table) it has been allotted. The following two chapters, “Jewish Midrashic
Interpretation in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages” by Carol Bakhos
and “Medieval Jewish Biblical Exegesis” by Robert A. Harris, cover the
medieval Jewish biblical interpretation of largely the corresponding period.
This is followed by a piece on “Eastern Orthodox Biblical Interpretation” by
Paul M. Blowers, using this title in spite of the fact that all but two of the
quoted authors lived before the year of the Great Schism.
Not only interpretation in the strict sense is covered by the volume, and
the next two chapters deal with the history, development, and reception of
the text of the Old and New Testaments respectively,“The Text of the Tanak”
by Russell Fuller and “The Text of the New Testament” by J. Keith Elliott.This
is followed by the chapter most people would associate with medieval biblical interpretation, “Scholastic Interpretation of the Bible” by Christopher
Ocker, which is full of interesting information but can, of course, never completely justify the enormous amount of material—the lion’s share of which is
still in manuscript—it seeks to describe. The rest of the volume is largely
devoted to Renaissance and post-Renaissance biblical studies, particularly as
studies of individual reformers: Martin Luther, Philipp Melanchthon, and John
Calvin are each assigned one chapter.
The vast scope of the presentation results inevitably is some overlap and
repetition, and some of the themes would have profited from being treated
together. The account is occasionally marred by typos and misspellings of
names and titles of works, typically Latin ones (Pope Gregory the Great’s
“Expositio in Ezechial”), but also modern (“Kristellar”and “Gluntz”); and
Gustav Vasa (1496–1550) is not the same Swedish king as Gustavus Adolphus
(1594–1632). More serious criticism could be leveled at the surprisingly
unfair treatment Western medieval exegesis and exegetes receive. Of a volume
of over 570 pages only about forty-five deal, strictly speaking, with the Latin
exegesis of the Middle Ages.This means that the treatment of the exegetes and
works representative of this period becomes extremely sketchy in comparison with, for instance, the in-depth study of individual Protestant reformers
and their work (c. 100 pages are devoted to the reformers; of these, Calvin
receives thirty).
The history of biblical interpretation has attracted considerable attention in recent decades, particularly, perhaps, with respect to the field of
medieval exegesis. The present volume bespeaks this phenomenon; if it can
spur more scholarly interest—particularly making primary materials avail-

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able—in the biblical interpretation of the medieval period, it has served an
important purpose.
Centre for Medieval Studies
University of Toronto

ALEXANDER ANDRÉE

German Histories in the Age of Reformations, 1400–1650. By Thomas A.
Brady Jr. (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2009. Pp. xviii, 477.
$95.00 cloth; $27.99 paperback. ISBN 978-0-521-88909-4 cloth; 978-0-52171778-6 paperback.)
This stunning recapitulation of a life’s work maps out Thomas Brady’s
vision of German Reformation studies as only he can. In muscular Rankean
prose packed with rough-and-ready anecdotes, he weaves high dynastic politics, theological struggle, and warfare into a comprehensive tapestry, uniting
a multiplicity of factors together under common themes of empire, reform,
and military struggle.To do so, he meshes images that will be familiar to readers of his previous corpus; Strasbourg, Jacob Sturm, and “turning Swiss” all
embellish the narrative.These he weds successfully with his earlier theoretical impulses: Heiko Oberman’s Harvest of Medieval Theology (Cambridge,
MA, 1963), Peter Blickle’s From the Communal Reformation to the
Revolution of the Common Man (Leiden, 1998), and Robert W. Scribner’s For
the Sake of Simple Folk (New York, 1981) take pride of place here.
The monograph is divided into four parts. Part 1 investigates the empire as
a complex of German histories. Constitutional in outlook, it pans over the
political geography, the estates, and the imperial Church before the
Reformation. Part 2 examines reforms, both political and religious, up to the
Diet of Worms in 1521, noting (in a tone reminiscent of James Bryce) the inextricable link between Church and empire in Central Europe. The next part
assesses the ramifications of the Protestant Reformation for political instability up to the Peace of Augsburg and the Second Reformation, and includes
much of interest on military campaigns that punctuated that tumultuous era.
Finally, part 4 reassess the solidification of confessions as part of territorial
state-building in both Catholic and Protestant areas, ending in the cataclysm
of the Thirty Years War.
Several new themes are also raised in this work. For example, Brady is keen
to suggest the existence of the framework of an imperial Church, a theme
broached in the work of his student, Michael Printy, in a recent study of
German Enlightenment Catholicism as a form of nationalism. Bohemia plays a
crucial role in his narrative, both at the beginning and end of his overview. As
the birthplace of an oppositional Czech Church as a pendant to the imperial
Church in the fifteenth century, its contribution to the later Reformation is
seen as part of the harvest of medieval religiosity. At the terminus of Brady’s
book, Bohemia returns as the casus belli for the Thirty Years War, vindicating

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99

his notion of the interconnectedness of politics, religion, and war in the
German Reformations.
Another school-building innovation is the author’s introduction of an
adjunct term to characterize confessionalization, the Spanish word convivencia, to describe a generic theory of a political and religious modus vivendi,
which he applies specifically to explain the underlying unity in apparent
imperial diversity. Like confessionalization (coined by Heinz Schilling and
Wolfgang Reinhard) and social disciplining (coined by Gerhard Oestreich), it
is likely to gain him vicarious currency in future debate as his supporters
attempt to interpret their vision of Bradian convivencia.
Although the work is successful overall, the bibliography is selective.
Several significant contributions by Ronnie Po-Chia Hsia are noticeably absent,
particularly his work on the imperial Jewry from Brady’s collective chapter on
victims of persecution. In the discussion of Catholic Reform and CounterReform, no mention is made of Catholic Renewal, undoubtedly another concept worthy of discussion. The explication of witchcraft persecutions is simplistic and limited. In the end, Brady should be careful when playing with
magic; someone might get hurt. Particularly controversial is his suggested
replacement of witch hunt—a term long established with witchcraft scholars
such as Brian Levack and more recently by Lyndal Roper—with witch panic,
although perhaps his term is more relevant to an American audience, as it
recalls persecutory panics of the 1950s.A foray into recent works on cultural
history might also have made a welcome addition and is not necessarily inimical to his central concerns of high politics, religion, society, and warfare.
However, this is a strong monographic statement that lays out Brady’s program in all its variety and is a fitting homage to a life of work spanning many
decades that has witnessed great changes in early-modern studies. Brady will
surely continue to influence Reformation studies, both through his research
and his personal engagement in the field, for many years to come.
National University of Ireland, Maynooth

DAVID LEDERER

The Hammer of Witches:A Complete Translation of the Malleus Maleficarum.
By Christopher S. Mackay. (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2009.
Pp. x, 657. $29.95 paperback. ISBN 978-0-521-74787-5.)
Between 1486 and 1669 the famous witch-hunting manual, Malleus
Maleficarum, underwent twenty-eight editions, all in Latin. It was for two centuries one of the best known treatises on the nature of witchcraft, recommending harsh investigations and punishment.After 1900 this text had an even
wider circulation owing to a spate of (often inadequate) translations into
German, English, Italian, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Russian, Czech, Polish,
Croatian, Dutch, and even Vietnamese. On the Internet it is available in Latin, in
various translations, and as an audio recording. Parts of it have even been set to

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music. Unfortunately, many of these versions appealed to prurient or sensationalist interests; lacked the necessary scholarly apparatus required for understanding a complex late medieval exercise in canon law, theology, and
demonology; and were often inaccurate. This was notably true of the English
version produced by Montague Summers, the gothic fantasist (London, 1928).
Recognizing these difficulties, scholars especially in Germany and the Englishspeaking world have published reprints of the original Latin edition
(Göppingen, 1991; New York, 1992), an improved but abridged English translation by P. G. Maxwell-Stuart (Manchester, UK, 2007), a much improved translation into German by W.Tschacher,Wolfgang Behringer, and Günter Jerouschek
(Munich, 2000), and an elaborate (and expensive) two-volume edition of an
edited Latin text with introduction, notes, and an English translation by the classicist Christopher S. Mackay (Cambridge, UK, 2006).The massive volume under
review is a reasonably priced paperback edition of Mackay’s English translation
with an abridged but still substantial introduction, improved running heads, and
detailed notes. In addition to providing a much more reliable translation into
English, Mackay has provided a useful outline, glossary, and detailed notes on
the theological and legal sources cited. He has done heroic service in identifying the many ancient and medieval sources quoted or cited in the text, especially St. Thomas Aquinas, but also the Dominicans Johannes Nider; Nicolas
Eymeric; and St.Antoninus, archbishop of Florence.
There are, however, a few issues to mention. First, it is noteworthy that
Mackay’s name appears on the title page as translator but with no original
author. On the vexed issue of authorship, scholars are currently divided, but
Behringer and Jerouschek have provided a strong argument that the Malleus
was very much the product of one author, Heinrich Kramer (Henricus
Institoris, O.P.) with no contribution from Jacob Sprenger. Perhaps their most
important pieces of evidence are Kramer’s claim to have written the book,
the anecdotes in the Malleus that emanated from the south German and
Austrian territories where Kramer was active as an inquisitor, and Sprenger’s
denial of authorship (as Servatius Fanckel, his successor as prior of the
Cologne Dominican convent, declared one year after Sprenger’s death in
1495). Bearing these facts in mind, it seems odd that Mackay declares that
Kramer and Sprenger wrote the Malleus, and that arguments to the contrary
are “nugatory” (p. 5). For Mackay, it seems decisive that Kramer claimed in a
sworn statement that he had written the book in collaboration with Sprenger
and that “only an imbecile” (p. 5) would have done so falsely if he knew that
Sprenger would learn of this claim. Mackay is also persuaded that Sprenger
was the likely author of the scholastic sections of part 1 that dealt with the
possibility of sorcery, the nature and goals of the devil, and other theological
topics. Perhaps, Mackay concedes, Sprenger merely “vetted” (p. 6) Kramer’s
arguments here, but it seems unlikely to Mackay that Kramer falsely alleged
Sprenger’s collaboration. On balance, it seems that this question is not yet
decisively settled, but those who argue for Kramer’s exclusive authorship
have made the better case.

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101

A second issue arises over how the terms maleficium, maleficus, and
malefica should be translated. Mackay generally eschews the terms witch and
witchcraft in favor of sorcerer, sorceress, and sorcery. His reason is that witch
and witchcraft as English terms seem clearly linked to women, whereas the
Malleus argues that the crime was not gender specific. But there are problems of another sort in translating these terms as sorcery, sorcerer, and sorceress, for these terms too have a history in English. For more than 100 years
scholars have used sorcery to describe the practice of magic without the
invocation or worship of demons (anthropologists have often further insisted
that sorcery can be taught). It has become customary to claim that witchcraft
was essentially the rather new crime of having a pact with the devil, whether
or not it was connected to magical practices (anthropologists sometimes use
the term to mean the possession of some occult power, something that
cannot be taught). Using this distinction, scholars have been able to claim that
sorcery was and is common around the world, whereas witchcraft was a latemedieval Western invention. In many cases, of course, those accused of
witchcraft were accused of both magical practice and of having entered into
a demonic pact, but that does not mean that sorcery can serve as a simple or
straightforward term for late-medieval maleficium. Mackay is to be congratulated on recognizing the problem of translation here, but the problem is even
knottier than he suggests.
One reason for continued interest in the Malleus is the common claim that
it was singularly responsible for the outburst of witch hunting that swept
over Europe from the fifteenth through the early-eighteenth centuries. That
claim has proved extremely hard to substantiate, as some of the first largescale witch hunts occurred in the Alpine lands some fifty years before the
Malleus was published and as the German courts and jurists that prompted
or approved of witchcraft trials did not generally cite its authority. Mackay is
on firm ground, therefore, in his claim that the main importance of the
Malleus lay in solidifying and disseminating the “elaborated theory of witchcraft” (p. 33). It is not difficult to show that sixteenth- and seventeenth-century demonologists knew and often respected the Malleus, even if they did
not accept all or even most of its arguments. For this reason we can be glad
to have a substantially accurate translation of the Malleus, one that deserves
to become the definitive text in English.
University of Virginia (Emeritus)

H. C. ERIK MIDELFORT

All Can be Saved: Religious Tolerance and Salvation in the Iberian Atlantic
World. By Stuart B. Schwartz. (New Haven:Yale University Press. 2008. Pp.
xiii, 336. $50.00. ISBN 978-0-300-12580-1.)
Today it sometimes seems that tolerance and religion are uneasy bedfellows, if bedfellows at all. What is more, most people, whether personally
involved with organized religion or not, would probably presume that the

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Holy Inquisition in Spain, Portugal, and their empires in the early-modern
period had no room for tolerance and managed to plant that notion firmly in
the heads of Catholics under their jurisdiction.These are precisely the notions
that Stuart B. Schwartz attempts to subvert in this committed and scholarly
study, which deploys a wide range of Inquisition material dated between the
late-fifteenth and early-nineteenth centuries.The heart of the book consists of
sensitive descriptions and analyses, with much quotation in English translation, of a wide range of cases in which brave individuals—mainly Spanish,
Portuguese, and Native American—obstinately clung, often at great personal
cost, to the idea that all people of goodwill, who led a good life, would achieve
eternal salvation, whatever the religion in which they lived.The cases in question involved Christians, Jews, Muslims, adherents of African and American
religions, and Goan Hindus.
Schwartz rightly bears in mind that such “universalist” ideas were by no
means unknown in medieval Europe, whence the Spanish and Portuguese discoverers and colonists came, but his main material might have been seen in a
more accurate perspective if the earlier evidence had been more extensively
deployed. The book is more empirical than theoretical in character, and this
can be frustrating at times. In particular, the much-debated questions around
the validity of Inquisition evidence—always recorded by one side, in the
interests of the institution concerned—are not extensively discussed here. It
is indeed possible to deploy the trial documents of the Inquisition as sources
of biography and social history, but the point still needs to be defended. Other
questions that might usefully have been explored more profoundly are the
very assumptions concerning the nature of “religion” that formed the basis of
the inquisitors’ operations. It has long been recognized that there was often
very little meeting of minds between ecclesiastical professionals and frequently unlettered prisoners, but although Schwartz acknowledges this, such
analysis often fails to impinge on the discussion here of individual cases of
“tolerance.”An underlying problem, with all this rich and fascinating material,
is that the power of dogmatic religious statements, whether deemed orthodox or not, is never questioned within it. It is highly doubtful whether faith
and belief can be reduced to intellectual propositions, and it would have been
good to see a discussion here of this vital matter.
In sum, this richly textured study is full of fascinating material and rewards
the reader with accounts and discussion of some inspiring human stories,
ranging over the New World and the Old. Sometimes the chronological range
of these sources, when fitted, as in this case, into a thematic scheme that is
largely based on geographical location, involves an effect of jumping about in
time that can seem slightly confusing. Also, the setting of the evidence in its
intellectual and historical context is much stronger and more obvious in the
later period, from the European Enlightenment to the abolition of the Spanish
and Portuguese inquisitions in the early-nineteenth century. Thus the book
leaves the reader wanting to explore and analyze more, but this is of course

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103

the sign of a valuable and stimulating book, which shows that “fundamentalism” is not a good term to use about early-modern religion in Iberia and its
colonies, and also that the human spirit is never completely overborne by
dogma and repression.
University of Oxford

JOHN EDWARDS

The Irish Franciscans, 1534–1990. Edited by Edel Bhreathnach; Joseph
MacMahon, O.F.M.; and John McCafferty. (Dublin: Four Courts Press.
Distrib. in the United States by ISBS, Portland, OR. 2009. Pp. xviii, 413.
€27,00; $39.95 paperback ISBN 978-1-846-82210-0.)
This volume, intended to commemorate the 800th anniversary of the foundation of the Franciscan Order, was conceived and produced by the
Franciscan Province of Ireland in partnership with the Mícheál Ó Cléirigh
Institute in University College Dublin. Although described in the foreword as
a “complete history of the Irish Franciscans,” it is, in fact, something at once
more modest and representative of the current state of research on the Irish
Franciscans: a set of essays in two parts, the first providing a narrative
overview of the Irish Franciscans since 1534, the second a number of more
technical essays on specific aspects of the Irish Franciscan legacy, ranging
from material culture to foreign missions.
The essays authored by Franciscan historians, especially the three by
Patrick Conlan, O.F.M. (his offering on “Reforming and seeking an identity,
1829–1918,” being, perhaps, the most important in the book), are distinguished by a concern to identify a purpose distinctive to the Franciscans in
Ireland and by the assumption that their role and identity were clearer at
some times than at others. Although the non-Franciscan contributors to the
volume are less ostensibly exercised by these concerns, their very titles (Mary
Daly’s “A second golden age: The Irish Franciscans, 1918–63”; Bernadette
Cunningham’s and Pádraig Ó Rian’s “The Louvain achievement I and II”; and
M. W. F. Stone’s “The theological and philosophical accomplishments of the
Irish Franciscans”) seem to assume a similar temporally calibrated understanding of the Franciscan experience in Ireland and its diaspora.These concerns, whether apparent or tacit, would probably have been alleviated by the
consideration of the international Franciscan phenomenon and Ireland’s
place within it, and also by comparisons between the Irish and other geographically peripheral provinces. This would probably reveal that the Irish
were not really so special after all and that identity problems are by no means
a uniquely Celtic appanage.
The first section of the collection takes the reader from the Reformation to
the 1990s.The essays by Colm Lennon, Raymond Gillespie, and Mary Ann Lyons
span the centuries of Reformation and religious wars. There are useful summaries of recent and current research that set the Franciscans firmly in their

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context in Irish history. Prima facie, Gillespie’s description of Archbishop
Oliver Plunkett’s 1681 execution as the removal of an “important flash point”
(p. 71) might appear somewhat glib, even partisan, but it is set in the context
of the secular-regular tensions of the early-modern period that so blighted
ecclesiastical politics and pastoral provision, state persecution notwithstanding. The secular-regular nexus certainly needs sustained attention and would
greatly benefit from more complete statistical representation if some doctoral
students could be persuaded to put their shoulders to the wheel. Gillespie’s
generational change model (p. 45) works well for the seventeenth century,
tying periods to personalities without losing sight of the broad sweep. The
general absence in this section of an international context, in the sense of
awareness of and constant reference to the Irish province’s inclusion in the
international Franciscan movement and the universal Church, weakens causal
explanations for the order’s success or failure, expansion or contraction in any
given period. Joseph MacMahon explains the eclipse of the order in the eighteenth “silent” century in terms of falling numbers, the spirit of the age, indiscipline and insubordination (pp. 81–84) but does not test these with any convincing international comparisons. Patrick Conlan gives the international
context more attention on page 102 and goes to the heart of the issues pitting
the declining nineteenth-century Irish province against externally inspired
reform efforts. To a significant extent the attitudes and behavior of a large
number of Irish Franciscans at this time had been formed by the twin legacies
of religious persecution (to which the religious orders were especially prone)
and general civil disadvantage (suffered by all Catholics and dissenters). The
modus vivendi they had developed over time assumed the loose authority
structures that marginalization and clandestinity incurred. Accordingly, the difficulty in maintaining community life gradually metamorphosed into a preference for a lifestyle closer to that of the diocesan clergy, without the inconveniences of episcopal interference. The antireligious stipulations of the Act of
Catholic Emancipation (1829) seem further to have marginalized the
Franciscans and rendered reform, in terms of a return to the practice of the
primitive order, more remote. Certainly Gregor Janknecht (1829–96), visitor in
1879, had his work cut out for him but with the help of Bernard Doebbing
(1855–1916), lecturer in St. Isidore’s, and a growing number of native Irish
reform enthusiasts like Peter Begley (whose memoir appears in the current
issue of Archivium Hibernicum), the tide for reform began to flow, despite
traditionalist, “black” friar opposition. The 1885 chapter’s prohibition of the
consumption of alcohol before lunch (p. 118) showed how far reform had to
go.The triumph of the reformed “brown” friars coincided with what Mary Daly
calls the second golden age of the Irish Franciscans that, despite the inevitable
displays of triumphalism consequent on Catholic cultural domination in the
Irish state, made sterling contributions to intellectual life at home and abroad.
It was during this period that the notion of a Franciscan golden age in the seventeenth century gained currency as did the public perception of the order’s
role in the survival of the Irish language and Gaelic culture. MacMahon’s article articulates the uncertainties ostensibly due to the Second Vatican Council

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and actually as old as the order itself. In more recent years the order has had
to embrace these, and one hankers after at least a provisional assessment of
how the order has been faring since the late 1980s, where the narrative section of this volume draws to a close.
The second part of the volume deals with the Franciscan legacy in history,
hagiography, philosophy, theology, pastoral care, secular society and what
used to be called the foreign missions. All these essays offer important new
elements to existing knowledge, and all agree on how much remains to be
done in these fields. Micheál Mac Craith’s thoughts on the formation of earlymodern Irish identity, outlined in his treatment of the poetry of Eoghan Ó
Dabhthaigh and the journal of Tadhg Ó Cianáin (pp. 255–59) are especially
interesting, suggesting useful parallels between the contemporary emergence
of the nación española and the naisiún Éireannach. It will be important to
see these followed up and extrapolated forward. The section also contains
two important essays on Franciscan chalices, and medieval and early-modern
Irish Franciscan architecture. Regrettably, there is nothing on the more recent
Franciscan contributions to material culture. The volume concludes with a
select prosopography by the indefatigable Ignatius Fennessy, O.F.M., which
one hopes will be extended to cover the entire Irish Franciscan experience.
Overall, this is a publication fit for both commemorative and academic purposes and a credit to its editors, who have done a fine job not only in bringing
these essays together but also in ensuring their elegant presentation, complete
with an ample photographic section, glossary, and bibliographical aids.
National University of Ireland, Maynooth

THOMAS O’CONNOR

The Maudlin Impression: English Literary Images of Mary Magdalene,
1550–1700. By Patricia Badir. [ReFormations: Medieval and Early Modern.]
(Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press. 2009. Pp. xix, 300. $38.00
paperback. ISBN 978-0-268-02215-0.)
Who was Mary Magdalene? A woman by that name received exorcism of
seven demons by Christ (Luke 8) and attended the sepulcher to see the risen
Lord in all Gospel accounts. Pope Gregory the Great identified her as Mary,
sister of Martha and Lazarus, and the woman who anointed Christ’s head
(Matt. 26, Mark 14, John 12) and with the “sinner” who bathed Christ’s feet in
Simon the Pharisee’s home (Luke 7). Multiplying legends to embellish the
Gospel accounts, succeeding ages depicted the Magdalene as profligate
sinner and penitent saint. Patricia Badir skillfully surveys early-modern English
reimaginings, as they appear in a wide array of poems, biographies, religious
tracts, homilies, dramas, and illustrations.
Beginning with the work of Katherine Jansen, who demonstrated that the
Middle Ages invented a Magdalene to embody the evils of vanity, luxuria,
prostitution, and female frailty, Badir shows how later writers, particularly

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Protestants, reappropriated this legacy. Lewis Wager’s morality play, The Life
and Repentance of Mary Magdalene (1566), for example, presents a polemical rereading wherein the Magdalene’s conversion from sin suggests the
Reformation, her rejected sensual finery standing for Catholic ceremony.
Catholics like Henry Constable, Robert Southwell, Richard Verstegan, and
William Alabaster focused instead on the sepulcher and hortulanus scenes.
For them Mary’s lamentations on the absent body of Christ expressed the desolation of early modern Catholics in England, bereft, cut off from sacraments
and clergy, yearning for the Lord.
Identified as Martha’s sister who chose to listen and adore rather than act,
the Magdalene also became a model of piety that inspired a poetics of devotion and contemplation for all. Medieval traditions that outlined her journey
to France, miracles, and retreat into the desert as a penitential eremite and
mystic inspired many artists: Tiziano Vecellio painted a sensual Magdalene
holding a book and gazing upward; Anthony van Dyck sketched in chalk a
semi-recumbent woman swathed in garments and clutching fabrics with an
expression of grief and longing. Richard Crashaw immortalized Magdalene’s
penance in “The Weeper,” a dazzling succession of epigrams and conceits that,
in its revised version, explores the connections between the effluent tears
without and the flaming heart within. Badir contrasts these affective representations with the restrained and intellectual engravings of Boethius
Bolswert and the biblical illustration of Martin de Vos; in the latter, human
longing “is lost beneath the refined complexity and infinite reproducibility of
the printed engraving” (p. 167).
Badir finally answers the question “Who was Mary Magdalene?” by defining her as a lieu de mémoire, or a site of memory, which took on various lives
in time. She closes her study by exploring adaptations in the late-seventeenth
century, such as Aphra Behn’s The Rover (1677), in which ironic iterations of
medieval iconography, sadly, replace devotional meditation. Wide-ranging,
well-documented, and sharply observed, this book usefully complicates the
oft-repeated assertion that Mary Magdalene became a Counter-Reformation
symbol of penance. She did, of course, but as Badir demonstrates, she also
became a complex and evolving figure who gave various shapes to religious
experience and doctrine for Catholics and Protestants alike.
Loyola University Maryland

ROBERT S. MIOLA

No Armor for the Back: Baptist Prison Writings, 1600s–1700s. By Keith E.
Durso. (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press. 2007. Pp. xii, 292. $23.00
paperback. ISBN 978-0-881-46096-4.)
Baptists began as a people of dissent, grounded in the concept of a
Believers’ Church and the role of conscience in discerning religious faith and
practice. Their idea that faith must be uncoerced by state or established
church set them at odds with establishmentarian governments in England and

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New England from the beginning of the movement in 1609. Baptist historians
have given significant attention to the nature of dissent and the role of
Baptists in shaping freedom of religion in church and state. Few, if any, have
brought together the collective stories of prominent and lesser-known Baptist
dissenters in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Historian Keith E.
Durso has done just that, in a fine volume that surveys the nature of Baptist
dissent and the response of various establishmentarian communities to
Baptist ideals and individuals. Durso brings together multiple primary sources
from or about the dissenters themselves. His work surveys the nature of the
persecution and the response of the Baptists to such harassment.The materials indicate that much of the Baptist response to religious establishments was
not simply about conscience but also about class. The seventeenth-century
Baptist John Murton demanded that the church be composed only of believers, those who could testify to a work of grace in their hearts (the central
tenet of a Believers’ Church), and insisted that, in Durso’s words, “the Holy
Spirit is not the possession of a select minority of educated ministers” (p. 37).
Indeed, Murton himself wrote that “‘the Spirit bloweth where it listeth’ (John
3:8), and is not tied to the learned” (p. 37).
Durso’s work also demonstrates something of the fluidity of individuals
who participated in multiple dissenting movements of the seventeenth century. So many sectarian movements appeared during this time that it was
inevitable that individuals would be impacted by multiple ideologies. Richard
Overton was such a person—“ambiguous” in his Baptist contacts, Durso suggests (p. 81), but strongly concerned to challenge establishmentarian ideology. Overton had Leveller sentiments that reflected on his response to Baptist
issues, as evidenced in his concern for “possessive individualism”—the idea
“that everyone possesses a ‘self-property’ or right of property in their own
person.This self-property is inalienable. . .” (p. 91). In reading these dissenters
one is impressed with these insights in a pre-enlightenment era.
The book deals with the nature of the persecution visited upon these dissenters, largely related to imprisonment, fines, and exile in both England and
New England.Thomas Helwys, perhaps the first of the early Baptists to write
clearly about religious liberty, died in prison, probably in 1616. Perhaps the
most famous of the seventeenth-century Baptists was John Bunyan, languishing and writing all those years in Bedford jail. Durso includes Bunyan among
the “prison poets” with lesser-known but fascinating individuals such as
Henry Adis and the “children’s poet”Abraham Cheare.
Thomas Hardcastle, imprisoned multiple times for his Baptist, anti-establishment views, gives the book its title, with his insistence that dissenters
were “duty-bound to be constantly on the offensive and never in retreat. . . .
There is no armor for the back” (p. 133).
Durso has developed an excellent survey that captures the content and
passion of early Baptist views on religious liberty and their willingness to

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stand on their consciences even when it meant punitive action from an
unfriendly state and an established church convinced of its inherent privilege. It is a fine study, with great value for students of the nature of Protestant
dissent in general and Baptist history in particular.
Wake Forest University

BILL J. LEONARD

Women, Religion, and the Atlantic World (1600–1800). Edited by Daniella
Kostroun and Lisa Vollendorf. [UCLA Center/Clark series, 12.] (Toronto:
University of Toronto Press in association with the UCLA Center for
Seventeenth- and Eighteenth-Century Studies and the William Andrews
Clark Memorial Library. 2009. Pp. xii, 354. $80.00. ISBN 978-0-802-09906-8.)
This collection of essays, the fruit of a colloquium, purports to treat what
the title promises in terms of the Atlantic basin of Europe, the Americas, and
Africa. The editors identify their primary goal as to “break down boundaries
of nation-bound inquiry by placing women, gender, and religion at the centre
of current dialogues about a shared Atlantic space” (p. 6). However, religion is
not the focus of all of the essays, and six of them are defined precisely in
terms of nation.Traditional paradigms die hard.
The volume’s jewel is Barbara Diefendorf’s review of women’s roles in the
Catholic Reformation, a broad-based study that puts years of experience on
display. She summarizes and nuances what recent scholarship has revealed:
Earlier work on women and the Catholic Church, largely based on feminists’
antagonism to patriarchal institutions and reliant on prescriptive texts, laws,
and decrees for evidence, has proven vastly imperfect in accuracy and scope.
For example, the Council of Trent dictated cloister for religious women. How,
if, and when that dictate was enforced has proven crucial, as have distinctions
between passive and active cloister, as well as which members of a convent
community could be cloistered and which could not. Moreover, the antagonism between women and the Catholic Church assumed by modern feminists
is not borne out by archival work.The historical record, then, leaves us with
what Diefendorf calls a continuum of feminine devotion that eschews
extremes and absolutes.
Lisa Vollendorf’s “Transatlantic Ties” provides a useful list of works by
women writers from Spain (sixty-six authors) and Spanish colonies (thirty-six
authors), by no means restricted to religious writing. Although one might
wonder at assertions such as “women arguably were positioned as the group
that posed the single most important threat to a homogenous Catholic state”
(p. 80), this evidence of women’s textual production is important. Amy
Froide’s “The Religious Lives of Singlewomen in the Anglo-Atlantic World”
counterbalances the volume’s focus on things Catholic. Pointing out that
unwed female adults were 30 percent of the seventeenth-century English
population, she traces the careers of Quaker missionaries as well as Protestant

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and covert Catholic nuns, all of which add to evidence of women’s work in a
wide variety of religious institutions.
Constraints of space prohibit detailed reference to each essay, in which
most authors use microhistory to challenge the validity of history at large,
providing the foundation on which future research can and will build to
rewrite the official record. Some of the stories are poignant, such as that in
Jon Sensback’s contribution, in which Dutch Caribbean slaves successfully
appeal to royalty to halt their repression, only to have their masters subsequently manipulate Christian tenets to inspire the slaves to obedient submission. Rachel Sarah O’Toole’s essay treats the Peruvian nun Juana Luisa Benites,
who made a play for sanctity using her resistance to sex-driven demons as evidence of heroic virtue, only to be revealed as a priest’s illegitimate daughter
and rejected on grounds that “good women” did not tangle with sexualized
evil. J. Michelle Molina and Ulrike Strasser compare two biographies of the
famous Catarina de San Juan, one by a Spanish Jesuit and the other by a
Bohemian Jesuit, revealing how authorial interests slanted “historical”
accounts of women’s lives. Attempts to overcome a patriarch by reporting
him to the Mexican Inquisition are the subject of Joan Cameron Bristol’s
“Patriarchs, Petitions, and Prayers.”
In the final section, Martha Few’s contribution suggests that Mesoamerican notions of deformity operated in tandem with European ideas in
Guatemala; Stacey Schlau analyzes the dramatic record of a female Christian
convert to Judaism as revealed in Mexican Inquisition archives;Tracy Brown
uses seven New Mexican cases of witchcraft to reach the not surprising conclusion that male witchcraft was political whereas its female counterpart
was domestic. Finally, Bianca Premo examines cases in which women and
men sought to break vows of monasticism or marriage in Lima, in the
process revealing a surprising diversity of family structures in which patriarchs are strikingly missing.
The essays in this book indicate the difficulty in rewriting long-standing
scripts based on religious orthodoxies and national identities, even during
times when those orthodoxies were unstable and the national identities that
later fell on these regions did not yet exist. As more evidence of a similar
nature continues to surface, new paradigms to analyze the role of earlymodern women in world faiths will emerge.
Boston College

ELIZABETH RHODES

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Ancient
Worship in the Early Church: An Anthology of Historical Sources, Vol. 1. By
Lawrence J. Johnson. (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press/A Pueblo Book.
2009. Pp. xxii, 282. $74.95. ISBN 978-0-814-66197-0.)
In this volume, Lawrence J. Johnson, former editor and director of the
Pastoral Press, presents sources of the liturgy in translation with an introduction and bibliography. The first volume treats Jewish sources, subapostolic
texts, and texts from the second and third centuries in both East and West.The
subsequent three volumes treat the fourth, fifth, and sixth centuries.
Each entry follows a similar pattern: the title of the work with a note
about the source of the translation (usually the author’s own), orienting bibliography, and the translation of the text. Johnson offers good orientations to
the various texts, as illustrated by the following example. A topic controversial today is that of Hippolytus of Rome and the Apostolic Tradition.
Johnson begins with an overview of the complications of the person of
Hippolytus and gives an orienting bibliography. He then presents the
Apostolic Tradition, giving an overview of the modern critical editions that
led to the attribution of the “Egyptian Church Order” to Hippolytus and to
the consideration of it as his work. Six pages of bibliography follow, with
sources, general studies, and then specialized bibliographies on initiation,
Eucharist, orders/ministry, and daily prayer. He offers a translation of the
complete text as reconstituted by Bernard Botte and again gives notes for
biblical citations and some technical issues of the text. Despite the controversy surrounding the author and date of the document, he makes the decision to treat it as a third-century work of Hippolytus, while alerting the
reader to the discussions surrounding the attribution and dating.
The layout and format are clear, the bibliographies substantial and helpful,
and the translations straightforward and accessible. This will be a helpful
resource for those without access to original languages and critical editions
who are looking for a good, brief orientation to important sources of liturgical study in the first six centuries.
The Catholic University of America

MICHAEL G.WITCZAK

Christianity in Ancient Rome: The First Three Centuries. By Bernard Green.
(New York:T. and T. Clark International. 2010. Pp. x, 258. $29.95 paperback.
ISBN 978-0-567-03250-8.)
This is a serious and well written account of Christianity in Rome down to
and including the reign of Constantine. It discusses Christianity’s first decades
in the shadow of the well-established Jewish community before Nero made
the Christians scapegoats for the fire of 64 AD.There follows a full exposition

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of doctrinal disputes among the Roman Christians of the second and third
centuries and their North African brethren resulting in Tertullian’s Against
Praxeas,“the first Latin work to address the Trinity” and at Rome in Novatian’s
On the Trinity. The persecutions of Decius and Valerian in the third quarter
of the third century, discussed in chapter 3, added new stresses arising from
the problem of readmitting lapsed Christians back into the fold. But the
Church emerged from these trials into the forty-year span before the great
persecution under the Tetrarchs with new strength and an ever-increasing
membership.The Christian message of hope for eternity was accompanied by
charity in this life for those in need and mutual support, evidenced most
clearly in the attention to the burial of the faithful.The catacombs thus are the
subject of the fourth chapter. In conclusion, the author examines the great
persecution and the acceptance of Christianity under Constantine.
The theme running through this work, as in any account of the Christians
in Rome, is the relation of Christianity to the state. The Romans were suspicious of religious associations as potentially subversive. In 186 BC the Senate
suppressed groups of devotees of Bacchus, and both pagans and Jews were
the object of harassment and worse under the empire. The Christians were
viewed with particular mistrust. But systematic persecution was not seen
until Trajan Decius. Green’s interpretation of Decius’s empire-wide repression
is that it attempted to impose uniformity of worship, issuing receipts for its
performance, just as the empire demanded uniform payment of taxes for
which similar receipts were given. Such thinking was to dominate the late
empire, both the Tetrarchy and the Christian state of Theodosius the Great.
If Constantine, the founder of that state, entered Rome in 312 firmly believing in Christ and his Church, he conducted himself with what Green terms
“studied ambiguity” (p. 226), at least in the early years of his reign. His building projects for the Christians in Rome were all situated on the periphery of
the city around its pagan core. Here he followed in the footsteps of the
defeated Maxentius, to whom Green attributes the building of the Basilica
Apostolorum (San Sebastiano) on the Via Appia. Among Constantine’s buildings there were the shrines of Ss. Peter and Paul.There is new excavation evidence from St. Paul’s, where the sarcophagus beneath the high altar (of the
Theodosian phase), certainly containing the venerated remains, has been
exposed. For both saints, Green comments favorably on the often dismissed
passage of the Liber Pontificalis that reports the transfer of their remains
from the Via Appia to the Vatican and the Via Ostiensis by Pope Cornelius in
251 (LP 1.151). There are many problems in interpreting the results of the
excavations below the high altar of St. Peter’s, and note should be taken of the
criticisms of the reigning interpretation of the results made by Adriano
Prandi, the director of excavations in their second phase, in La zona archeologica della Confessio Vaticana (Vatican City, 1957).
Brown University (Emeritus)

R. ROSS HOLLOWAY

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Augustine’s Manichaean Dilemma. I: Conversion and Apostasy, 373–388
C.E. By Jason David BeDuhn. (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania
Press. 2010. Pp. viii, 402. $69.95. ISBN 978-0-812-24210-2.)
St. Augustine’s conversion to Manichaeism in 373 and his remaining in that
religion as a Hearer for at least a decade have puzzled many students of the
life of the bishop of Hippo, who came to be recognized as one of the great, if
not the greatest, of the Western Fathers of the Church. BeDuhn approaches
the subject as an historian and not as a philosopher or theologian, and his
book uses various contemporary studies of the nature of conversion and
apostasy to clarify how the young Augustine was attracted to a group of
bright young Manichees in Africa and why he remained with them for so long
a time until he finally became disillusioned about being able to make progress
in that form of Christianity. His study has, for the first time, made Augustine’s
conversion to the Manichaean religion and his remaining in it so long intelligible for me. He argues that Manichaeism offered a religion to the young
Augustine that promised to satisfy his deepest spiritual and intellectual aspirations—aspirations that remained much the same for Augustine the apostate
from Manichaeism and new convert to Catholic Christianity.
Augustine’s conversion is often understood as an event that took place in
the Milanese garden and that represented a complete transformation of his
life to that of a full-fledged Catholic with a solid understanding of the faith
illumined by the neoplatonism of Ambrose and others of the Milanese church.
One of BeDuhn’s central arguments is that not only did Augustine undergo
many conversions but also that his conversion in Milan, although a genuine
conversion to Catholicism or Nicene Christianity, fell far short of a full intellectual grasp of the character of his newly found faith for at least a decade—
that is, until the time at which he wrote the Confessions, which put a quite
different spin on the events in Cassiciacum and Milan. BeDuhn clearly shows
from the early works of the convert that his appropriation of Catholic doctrine was much slower than is often thought.
The chapter on Faustus is an excellent account of the form of
Manichaeism held by the Manichaean bishop and shows how he combined a
synthesis of skepticism and religious practice, which led Augustine toward
Academic skepticism and back to his original Ciceronian inspiration that he
had drawn from the Hortensius. BeDuhn offers many interesting and plausible conjectures—for instance, that Augustine’s sudden departure for Rome
was due to the implementation of new imperial decrees against Manichaeism
and that having the weight of the law against him led him to rethink his commitment to that religion in Milan. BeDuhn also suggests that the fact that
Augustine heard in the summer of 386 that an indictment had been issued
against him in Carthage in the prosecution of Manichaeism may have led to
his sudden retirement to Cassiciacum from his teaching position in Milan. In
becoming a catechumen in Nicene Christianity, Augustine “took the path of
least resistance, fitting into the dominant element in Milanese society, and

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pleasing his mother” (p. 195). As BeDuhn sees it, it took Augustine a decade
after the conversion scene in the Milanese garden to realize “what conversion
would mean for him, to make of himself a ‘Catholic’ self” (p. 243; emphasis in
original).Through an examination of Augustine’s writing after his baptism up
to the Confessions, BeDuhn persuasively argues that Augustine only gradually
appropriated the central doctrines of Nicene Christianity, although the
Confessions might seem to indicate that this was the achievement of a
moment.
The present volume is the first in a series of three that the author has
planned and leads the reader to eagerly anticipate its successors.
Marquette University

ROLAND J.TESKE, S.J.

Marriage, Celibacy, and Heresy in Ancient Christianity: The Jovinianist
Controversy. By David G. Hunter. [Oxford Early Christian Studies.] (New
York: Oxford University Press. 2009. Pp. xix, 316. $50.00 paperback. ISBN
978-0-199-56553-5.)
We have here a first-rate instance of the classical tradition of objective
scholarship: Everything on the topic has been read, mastered, and put in its
place; the bibliography is exhaustive, the index helpful, and the final product,
inevitably, dull.The book might interest those, if any such still exist, who know
nothing of fourth-century Catholicism—specifically, of Pope Siricius’s overriding concern for clerical status, Ambrose’s Mariological excesses, and St.
Jerome’s typically obnoxious—and derivative—defense of consecrated virginity.The point at issue was the superiority of consecrated virginity to marriage, which the Church continues to maintain, but Hunter in his academic
straitjacket is unable to address this crucial question. He merely provides a
scholarly consensus about the various positions assumed in “ancient
Christianity,” although, as befits a contemporary thinker, his sympathy is
clearly on the side of Jovinian. As Peter Brown—whose name is never mentioned without Hunter’s performing a mental genuflection—says,“Paul left a
fatal legacy to future ages” (p. 89).
The opening chapter includes a description of the impressive ritual of baptism in the fourth-century Church, which Hunter convincingly presents as the
origin of Jovinian’s conviction that all forms of Christian life are equivalent.
He also taught that, as baptized, Christians are secure from the devil’s attacks,
not obliged to fast, and assured of “one reward in the kingdom of heaven for
those who have preserved their baptism” (p. 41). None of Jovinian’s works is
extant, of course, but references to them in Siricius, Ambrose, and especially
Jerome render it relatively easy to reconstruct his argument. Hunter’s scope,
however, is too narrow. He could have made something of the Christian tradition, dating back to apostolic times, of the sinless ideal for all baptized, as is
indicated, for example, by the history of penance.

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Rejecting the attempts of Christian Cochini and Stefan Heid to trace obligatory clerical continence/celibacy to apostolic times, Hunter falls back on
ritual purity to account for the “novelty” of legislated clerical continence at
the end of the fourth century, but without examining in any significant way
what ritual purity was—and is in Judaism and the Orthodox Church. (It also
continued in full vigor in Catholicism until the pontificate of John XXIII,
when it unaccountably disappeared.) Instead, he simplistically links it to the
encratite suspicion of sexual activity as morally tainted.The essential point is
bypassed, viz., that Christianity, like every other religion, is based on the conviction that the transcendent realm is real and, further, because of Jesus Christ
can be anticipated even here on Earth by the spiritually adept, the “angelic
life” of Matthew 22:30.The result in Catholicism has been a more-or-less moderate dualism, which has veered between an overemphasis on the transcendent at the expense of the here and now (the anti-Jovinians of the fourth century, et alii) and vice versa (Jovinian—and Hunter).
DANIEL CALLAM, C.S.B.

Toronto, Canada
Medieval

The Divorce of Lothar II: Christian Marriage and Political Power in the
Carolingian World. By Karl Heidecker.Translated from the Dutch by Tanis
M. Guest. (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. 2010. Pp. xii, 227. $45.00.
ISBN 978-0-801-43929-2.)
Christian marriage is now considered monogamous and indissoluble, but
it was not always so. In this book Karl Heidecker argues convincingly that it
was only with the highly publicized divorce of King Lothar II (855–69) that a
clear standard for Christian marriage became established in the West.
Heidecker is certainly not the first to see this divorce case as a turning point;
both medieval and modern writers on the development of marriage have
always referred to it, and the outpouring of letters, conciliar rulings, annals,
and legal briefs at the time was large enough to fill an entire volume of the
modern Monumenta Germaniae Historica. But Heidecker is the first to look
at the case in all its complexity, as involving not just church law—which
everyone at the time heatedly invoked, even though the existing law was
often vague and inconsistent—but also secular law, the dicey question of who
could pass judgment in cases like this, and especially political maneuvering,
with all sides loudly adhering to and often indeed creating divergent principles to support their own positions.
Lothar II, great-grandson of Charlemagne, was king of the Middle Kingdom
between France and Germany, later named Lotharingia in his memory. His
problems began in 857 when he decided to divorce his wife,Theutberga, to
marry Waldrada, his former mistress. Both the pope and Hincmar, the powerful archbishop of Reims, ruled such a divorce impossible. Immediately

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Theutberga found herself accused of incest with her brother, and incest in an
unnatural position at that, meaning Lothar had to divorce her. She managed
briefly to return to her position as queen by proving her innocence by an
ordeal, conveniently undertaken by a substitute, but the reconciliation was
short-lived. Soon she appeared at a council confessing all, a confession many
considered coerced and that she later repudiated. But Lothar’s bishops
accepted Waldrada as queen, with the new stipulation that Lothar had been
betrothed to her before his marriage to Theutberga. The pope and Lothar’s
royal uncles briefly forced Lothar to take Theutberga back still once again.The
furious charges and countercharges continued until Lothar’s death in 869.
This book began as Heidecker’s doctoral dissertation and was originally
published in Dutch in 1997; he has revised and expanded it for the English
edition. It is a delight to read, clearly argued and gracefully translated, and fully
cognizant that we cannot create tidy categories of law and proper behavior
and try to apply them to the people of the past.The bibliography includes the
most recent relevant works of English- and German-language scholarship. As
well as addressing the development of an ideal of marriage, Heidecker makes
a number of thoughtful points about noble family structure and the role of
both bishops and secular magnates in Carolingian governance.
A map, family trees, and lists of Carolingian kings make it easy to keep
track of the large number of players. The word player here is deliberate, for
Heidecker has constructed the story of the divorce as a drama in six acts—
part tragedy and part farce. In doing so, he underscores how much everyone
involved was performing a role as much as arguing a case; after all, how an
argument was received depended on more than the words themselves. The
drama metaphor also allows him to break the events down into units, where
he summarizes and then analyzes what happened and who accused whom of
what, thus making sense of what might otherwise appear a maddeningly tangled series of events.This book is a highpoint in the recent scholarly attention
to the Carolingian era.
University of Akron

CONSTANCE B. BOUCHARD

Being a Pilgrim: Art and Ritual on the Medieval Routes to Santiago. By
Kathleen Ashley and Marilyn Deegan. (Burlington,VT: Lund Humphries, an
imprint of Ashgate Publishing. 2009. Pp. 264. $60.00. ISBN 978-0-85331989-4.)
Over the last few years there has been a huge resurgence of interest and
publications on the history and art of the medieval pilgrimage. By far, the
greatest number of books and articles have been written on the pilgrimage
route to Santiago de Compostela in northern Spain—the site associated with
the Apostle James around which a cult developed as early as the tenth century. Many of these publications are of a scholarly nature and focus entirely

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on art and architecture, while others are of a more personal nature and document the private journey. None have attempted to do what this beautifully
produced book does, and that is to combine a popular and scholarly approach
with the experience. In nine chapters the coauthors move the modern pilgrim through the medieval experience of the journey with the full realization
that they are writing for a twenty-first century audience. It is, as they say, an
attempt to relive the whole culture of the journey and not just the actual religious experience that it was.
The first chapter, which introduces the reader to St. James, his history, and
his cult, is concise in its approach and nicely balances the modern perspective with extracts from medieval travelers’ accounts—a particularly attractive approach that can be found throughout the rest of the volume and that
will appeal to the specialist audience.The second chapter, which focuses on
the geography of the pilgrimage, looks at the land routes and the many paths
that could start in Paris or the southeast.The third chapter, which details the
preparations for the journey, looks at rituals and superstitions, both medieval
and modern. The fourth chapter is a novel perspective on the social and
architectural experiences of the traveler, ranging over subjects from the hospice and town gate to the confraternities and thieves that the traveler would
have encountered. It is a selective and nicely arranged sampling of some of
the principal architectural elements on the routes. The fifth chapter, which
looks at the cults of saints and the religious experience of the traveler en
route, features a series of case studies ranging from Conques to St. Gilles du
Gard. Another series of case studies—this time of conurbations—is the subject of the sixth chapter, “The Wonders of the Towns.” The chapter deals with
some of the major towns and cities on the route, from Poitiers to Melle. Only
at this point—nearly halfway through the volume—are readers brought from
France into Spain. It is slightly disappointing that there is such an imbalance
between the French and Spanish material, given the generic nature of many
of the chapter headings. The seventh chapter looks at the legends and folklore of the route, from Charlemagne to Roland, before we are brought into
the music of the journey in the second last chapter. The ninth chapter firmly
places the pilgrim in Santiago and moves seamlessly between the modern
and medieval.
The division of labor is clear—one author undertook the text while the
other took the many images—and this has led to a consistent work. Were it
not for the quality of the text, this book could have been seen as a picture
essay on the route. Despite the quality of some of the photographs, the book
mostly reproduces the already well known, and it would have been interesting to have some of the smaller and lesser-known sites depicted.
It is a slightly deceptive volume in that the text is relatively short (with
comparatively few footnotes), and the images are luxuriously printed in large
formats, which, when combined, have produced a relatively thick book. It is
engagingly written, finely balances the academic and the popular, and does

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not fall between the two areas.This is a valuable contribution to the literature
of pilgrimage.
Index of Christian Art
Princeton University

COLUM HOURIHANE

The Life of Blessed Bernard of Tiron. By Geoffrey Grossus.Translated with an
introduction and notes by Ruth Harwood Cline (Washington, DC: The
Catholic University of America Press. 2009. Pp. xxxiv, 177. $24.95 paperback. ISBN 978-0-813-21681-2.)
From the early-eleventh century until about the middle of the twelfth, a
powerful religious revival characterized by asceticism and eremitic withdrawal flared up in many places across Western Europe. Loose-knit colonies
of hermits sprang up in the wastes and multiplied, sometimes attracting hundreds of recruits to an existence unconstrained by the bonds of normal society and to a lifestyle patterned on that of the desert fathers and mothers in its
reliance on prayer, manual productivity, and God’s natural provision.The leaders of this revival at the peak of its creativity (about the end of the eleventh
century) channeled its resources into the creation of families of reformed
monasteries, such as Citeaux, Fontevrault, Savigny, and Tiron. Blessed Bernard
(c. 1050–1116), founder of the Tironian congregation, was one of the leading
luminaries.Thirty years or so after his death, a monk of Tiron named Geoffrey
Grossus wrote a hagiographic account of his life, which Ruth Harwood Cline
has rendered in English for the first time in this very accomplished translation. Scholars who wish to check it against the Latin text (BHL 1251) in Acta
sanctorum, April 2, cols. 222–55, will be pleased to discover that the conveniently short, numbered paragraphs of the two correspond.
Despite the great need for them, competent translators are rare and sometimes undervalued. Cline’s work merits praise and gratitude as much for userfriendly footnotes and introductory commentary as for the labor of bringing
unread Latin to a wider audience. Maps locate places noted in the text within
the geography of modern France, and a timeline of significant events provides
chronology constructed from cartularies. For the most part, the reader is
expected to take this on trust, because Cline does not reveal the reasoning or
sources behind every given date, but her introduction does at least highlight
errors in Geoffrey’s account and the artificiality of its structure (pedimental
chiasmus centered on visits to the pope created a tidier pattern than any that
Bernard’s career could have followed). Regarding Geoffrey’s account, Cline
detects different voices in what is, nevertheless, a unified work. Regrettably
little is said about Geoffrey and the purpose of his work, which is taken to be
a dossier for canonization. Longer than most Vitae, it has an average share of
curious anecdotes and insights, but its value lies in its particular perspective,
which reflects what one might expect of a member of one of the new orders,
writing in the 1140s. It contends, for example, that sanctity inheres in virtues

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not miracles, while proving that Bernard possessed spiritual gifts such as
prophecy and performed the occasional miracle just for good measure. It
interprets Bernard’s activities as an effort to restore divine reason to fallen,
chaotic Creation. Thus Bernard subjugates appetites and unruly emotions to
reason (pp. 110, 113), in line with Ciceronian and monastic ideals. Geoffrey
also blended bits of St. Jerome’s pastoral letters, St. Gregory the Great’s Regula
pastoralis, and the Benedictine Rule to paint a portrait of Bernard that unites
the holiness of a desert father with the perspicacity of a patristic doctor; the
austerity of a hermit with an abbot’s solicitude for souls, like “a new Antony”
(p. 80). His voluntary poverty, however, is essentially Christomimetic, and he
ministers to Christ in the person of the poor (pp. 13, 33, 80).All these points
of inspiration—eremitic, patristic, and Christomimetic—had jostled for attention during the soul-searching revival of the preceding century and invigorated Geoffrey’s study of Bernard of Tiron. Thanks to Cline, students will be
better placed to study that revival and the currents of thought that inspired
the often overlooked Tironian congregation.
University of East Anglia

TOM LICENCE

Sacred Violence: The European Crusades to the Middle East, 1095–1396. By
Jill N. Claster. (Toronto: University of Toronto Press. 2009. Pp. xix, 356.
$29.95 paperback. ISBN 978-1-442-60060-7.)
On the eve of September 11, 2001, there were in print only three singlevolume histories of the crusades written by scholars.Today there are dozens,
with more published each year.When a new volume is produced, therefore, it
is natural to wonder how it could differ from all of those that have come
before. However, in scope, content, and execution Jill N. Claster’s book really
does offer something new. Although most authors provide an introductory
chapter, Claster devotes two full chapters to setting the historical background
of the medieval Near East and West. One might quibble whether it is necessary to stretch back to the second millennium BC to understand the crusades,
yet there is no denying that Claster provides a solid foundation on which her
reader can build. Throughout, she writes with energy and emotion, drawing
the reader along step by step. At times this results in some awkward colloquialisms, such as “the Byzantine Empire by 1300 was totally down on its
luck” (p. 301); yet in most cases it works well.
Unlike other modern histories, Sacred Violence provides no working definition of a crusade to inform its narrative. Claster does state that “[t]he underlying theme of this book is the quest for Jerusalem and the belief that
Jerusalem was, and remained, central to the ideology of crusading. . .” (p. xix).
At first glance this suggests a traditionalist approach; yet the book itself
includes descriptions of crusades in the Baltics, in Spain, against heretics, and
against the enemies of the pope at home. It also extends its coverage beyond
the traditional date of 1291 to the Crusade of Nicopolis in 1396. Claster con-

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tends that this was a turning point, since Europeans were thereafter on the
defensive against the Ottomans and neglectful of Jerusalem.Yet the Turks had
invaded Europe almost four decades earlier, and no serious attempt to recapture the Holy City had been launched from Europe in well over a century.
Nevertheless, an epilogue briefly continues the story until the fall of
Constantinople in 1453.
One great strength of this book is the evenhandedness and empathy with
which it approaches its subjects. There are no cardboard cutout villains or heroes
here.Pope Urban II,who is often depicted in modern histories as cunning,deceitful, and avaricious, is here a pious, careful, and complicated man of his times.
Claster correctly places the crusading movement within the context of ecclesiastical reform. Her crusaders are multifaceted, but, above all, motivated by a very
medieval anxiety over the state of their souls. This same cautious, nuanced
approach is employed elsewhere when dealing with Muslim and Byzantine actors
too.The result is a refreshing narrative in which one can perceive real medieval
people rather than modern agendas dressed in medieval garb.
This is not to say that the book does not occasionally fall back on shopworn
generalizations. The Venetians, for example, are treated as merchants and
sailors motivated only by greed:“Given the Venetians’ later behavior on the disastrous Fourth Crusade (in 1204), it is difficult to cast them in a favorable spiritual light. They were, after all, for several centuries mainly distinguished by
their immense fortunes” (p. 141). Of course, the French just as fiercely looted
Constantinople in 1204 and would go on to amass even larger fortunes.
Indeed, wealthy France would one day conquer impoverished Venice.Yet the
“spiritual light” on the French continues to shine favorably here. Similarly,
Claster resurrects the old characterization of Emperor Frederick II as a modern
man of tolerance. Indeed, he “was exceptional in his understanding that
Jerusalem was a holy city for Muslims as well as for Christians, and for that he
was forever tainted in the eyes of the papacy” (p. 232).
The book closes with what has now become a standard “legacy” section.
Claster competently provides a brief history of perceptions of the crusades in
the West and Middle East, and how they have affected recent events. However,
the real legacy of the crusades, Claster claims, is “the ideology of holy war”:
“We live today with the ideology of the Christian holy war just as Muslims live
with the ideology of the jihad” (p. 317). Unfortunately, although Claster seems
to have something in mind, she never explains how this ideology manifests
itself. Is she suggesting that Christian holy wars are being waged today? Or
does she intend to propose something else?
Despite these few problems, Sacred Violence remains one of the better histories of the crusades to be produced in the past several years. It is accessible, current, and a genuine pleasure to read.
Saint Louis University

THOMAS F. MADDEN

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The Churches of the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem: A Corpus. Vol. IV: The
Cities of Acre and Tyre with Addenda and Corrigenda to Volumes I–III.
By Denys Pringle. Illustrated by Peter E. Leach. (New York: Cambridge
University Press. 2009. Pp. xviii, 321. $195.00. ISBN 978-0-521-85148-0.)
The present volume concludes an enormous project to publish a corpus
of all church buildings in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem. Reflecting work
stretching from 1979 to the present, Denys Pringle has systematically surveyed, recorded, described, and analyzed the archaeological, historical, and
architectural evidence for 489 churches together with extensive documentation; by contrast, Camille Enlart included fewer than fifty churches in Les
monuments des croisés dans le royaume de Jérusalem: architecture
religieuse et civile (Paris, 1925–28). In volume IV, 121 churches are presented, including eighty-two from Acre and twenty-five from Tyre, the two
most important port cities in the Latin Kingdom.
The entries for each church provide the fullest possible information, with
a number of churches covered here for the first time; up-to-date archaeological details also are featured. Some churches are referred to only in written
sources, but all of the churches for which there are archaeological remains
are given photo documentation with newly prepared drawings based on careful fieldwork. Major churches receive appropriately large entries (St. John’s
church and hospital in Acre cover pp. 82–114; the cathedral in Tyre covers
pp.182–204). Among the great benefits of Pringle’s presentations are his historical discussions based on exhaustive sources along with pre- and postcrusader history. Pringle’s command of crusader ecclesiastical history is encyclopedic. For major entries, other material such as epigraphy and relics are
discussed, and all entries give complete references for primary sources, maps,
and secondary sources.
Pringle covered seventy-one churches in Historic Acre as a Living City
(Acre, 2003); here, he documents eighty-two, second only to Jerusalem (with
eighty-seven) in the Kingdom. Pringle states that his survey is offered as a further contribution to the development of a more clearly defined picture of
medieval Acre. Without a doubt, his contribution marks a gigantic step forward both in terms of his identifications and documentation on the individual churches and his presentation of a reconstruction of medieval Acre overlaid on a map of the modern city (pp. 16–17). By clearly indicating the
locations of documented churches and locating tentative sites for others for
which no archaeological evidence has yet been found, his map far and away
provides the most important attempt to envision the size of the city based on
the newest archaeological evidence and the sites of all known churches in
relation to other major structures in the thirteenth-century city. For Acre,
Pringle uses an eight-digit reference for these site locations based on the
Palestine or Old Israel Grid found in the survey of Israel maps. A number of
these site locations are estimates, but remarkably well-informed estimates that
only future archaeological investigation could confirm. But this map, which

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appears to have two errors (Hospital of St. Lazarus location; St. Mary
Magdalene at 1569.2509 is no. 434, not 435), and the associated entries will
be exceptionally useful to every scholar of crusader-era Acre.
The Acre churches occupy the first 175 pages of the volume; pages 177 to
272 include the churches of Tyre.The entry on no. 484, Baituniya, as well as
the entries on churches at Bait Jibrin, al-Bira, and Jezreel, are especially noteworthy.Tyre had fewer churches than Acre, of which the cathedral of the Holy
Cross is the most important. Pringle’s entry is, in effect, a monographic study
of this building, which in the thirteenth century was the coronation church
of the crusader kings. Today, remains of only two other crusader churches
exist in the city.
Pringle’s achievement in this volume and the previous three volumes is
tremendous and truly admirable. He has provided exhaustive, documented,
and perceptively analyzed crusader church material in a fully discussed historical context that will allow future scholars to interpret the unique character of crusader ecclesiastical architecture and its relationship to Byzantine,
western European, and Levantine influences. Pringle has provided the definitive study for the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem with this exemplary publication project; now we need a comparable study for crusader churches in the
county of Tripoli, the principality of Antioch, and the county of Edessa.
University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

JAROSLAV FOLDA

Templars and Hospitallers as Professed Religious in the Holy Land. By
Jonathan Riley-Smith. [The Conway Lectures in Medieval Studies.] (Notre
Dame: University of Notre Dame Press. 2010. Pp. xii, 131. $25.00 paperback. ISBN 978-0-268-04058-1.)
Jonathan Riley-Smith, Dixie Professor Emeritus of Ecclesiastical History at
the University of Cambridge, can reasonably be described as the most eminent, and almost certainly the most prolific, historian of the crusades now
active in the field. He began his career a half-century ago with a PhD thesis at
Cambridge on the history of the Hospitaller order, which appeared as The
Knights of St. John in Jerusalem and Cyprus (London, 1967), the first of
more than a dozen books.
In Templars and Hospitallers Riley-Smith returns once again to the history of the two oldest and best-known medieval military orders, whose members combined the functions of monks and knights. His earlier studies of
these organizations concentrated on their constitutions and their military
roles in defense of the crusader states established in the Holy Land shortly
after the conquest of Jerusalem in 1099. In this book, however, Riley-Smith
concentrates instead on their roles as religious orders.
Historians of the crusades usually treat the two military orders as if they
were virtually identical. Riley-Smith, however, stresses that they were unlike

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each other in numerous ways.The Hospitallers originated sometime during the
closing decades of the eleventh century. As their name suggests, they began as
a nursing order whose members provided the best medical care available in
the Holy Land. They staffed the hospital of St. John, the principal hospital of
Jerusalem, as well as the Hospital of St. Mary of the Germans. Hospitallers also
operated hospitals at Acre and elsewhere in the Levant, plus a few small ones
in Western Europe.They cared not only for Christian patients but also for Jews
and Muslims, whose dietary requirements they took pains to respect. The
Hospitallers even provided a decent burial without charge for those who died
while under their care. At some point early in the twelfth century—here, too,
no precise date can be established, but the process seems to have started by
the 1120s—the Hospitallers began to recruit not only nurses but also knights,
at first to defend Christian pilgrims traveling in the Holy Land and subsequently in support of other military campaigns to defend the Latin States. They
thus became a dual-purpose order, some of whose members ran hospitals and
tended the sick, while others fought in battles. In addition, the Hospitallers also
included in their ranks a significant number of women’s convents, although
Hospitaller nuns were seldom dispatched to the Holy Land.
The Templars, in contrast, were exclusively a military order. The knights
predominated among their members, supported by considerable numbers of
sergeants and some chaplains. Small numbers of women lived in a few convents affiliated with the Templars, although the knights never formally recognized them as members of the order. Unlike the Hospitallers, whose organizational structure evolved over time, the constitution of the Templars scarcely
changed at all during the 200 years of the order’s existence.
Riley-Smith maintains that the Hospitallers and Templars constituted the
earliest religious orders, in the strict sense of that term, to appear in the
medieval church, although one might argue that the Cistercians have a
stronger claim than he acknowledges to that title.
Riley-Smith’s Templars and Hospitallers, although brief, is yet one more of
his significant contributions to the history of the crusades and the medieval
military orders. It is a book that no one interested in these topics can afford
to ignore.
University of Kansas (Emeritus)

JAMES A. BRUNDAGE

Hugh of Saint-Victor. By Paul Rorem. [Great Medieval Thinkers.] (New York:
Oxford University Press. 2009. Pp. xiv, 235. $27.95 paperback. ISBN 978-0195-38436-9.)
In the foreword to the latest volume in the series Great Medieval Thinkers
Brian Davies, the series editor, feels obliged to explain that the author presented does in fact deserve the title of a great medieval thinker even though

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he may be little known to a broader public due to the fact that only very few
of his works have received a critical edition and even fewer a translation into
a modern language. Paul Rorem’s introduction into Hugh’s œuvre is the first
study in English that endeavors to give the general view of this author, which
is the necessary prerequisite for any specialized study. Hugh’s works have
been most influential. More than 3000 manuscripts containing his works have
been counted. His De sacramentis is a commentary on Scripture organized
not along the biblical text but according to systematic principles: the works
of creation and redemption before and after the Incarnation. Rorem justly
identifies “salvation history” as the theological key to Hugh’s work (p. 21).The
organization of theological thought according to dogmatic principles provided a new quality compared to the preceding collections of sentences. As
such it influenced two students at the Abbey of St.Victor: Peter Lombard and
his Sententiae as well as Gratian and his Decretum. Unfortunately, Rorem only
briefly mentions Hugh’s predecessors such as Manegold, Anselm of Laon,
Roscelin, and William of Champeaux, and his contemporaries such as St.
Bernard of Clairvaux and Peter Abelard, and provides little information on
their mutual relations. The much-debated subject of Jewish influence on
Hugh is completely ignored. He abstains from placing Hugh’s works in a
chronological order (p. 12), and he does not mention the further complication that the manuscript evidence frequently points to two, three, or more
editions of a single work all going back to Hugh’s lifetime—with the exception of the Notulae, where he claims that Hugh “never prepared the whole
for publication” (p. 53)—an interesting thesis for which evidence should have
been supplied at least in the notes. Rorem chooses to organize the first chapters of his study (“Foundations”) according to the succession of Hugh’s works
as we find them in the edition prepared by Abbot Gilduin of St. Victor after
Hugh’s death (p.14). Unfortunately, he abandons this order in parts 2 (“The
Framework of Doctrine”) and 3 (“The Spiritual Finale”). In the first part, the
chapter On the Scriptures is included, even though Rorem is aware that this
work exists only in Abbé Migne’s edition and neither in the Gilduin edition
nor in the manuscripts (p. 53). It might have been interesting to rely on
Gilduin’s edition as a guide throughout. It certainly would have saved the
Commentary on the Celestial Hierarchy from being treated only in the
appendix—a placement that appears unfair for this most influential text.
The second part sketches Hugh’s understanding of Christian doctrine by
summarizing his teachings in De sacramentis. Twice (pp. 60 and 114) Rorem
deplores the lack of a critical edition of the text, even though his bibliography (p. 217) mentions the edition by Rainer Berndt, S.J. (Münster in Westfalen,
2008), which obviously came too late to be used by the author.The third part
groups together those texts that Rorem characterizes as “spiritual writings”
(p. 50), with De arrha anime as the culminating point. Given that Rorem has
to leave aside Gilduin’s ordering of Hugh’s writings to draw a line between
doctrine and spirituality, the question arises whether the distinction is not a
modern one alien to the twelfth century.

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Perhaps some of the above remarks mirror more the specialist’s concerns
than those of the reader who looks for and certainly will find a general introduction and first insight into the vast field of writings by Hugh of Saint Victor.
Rorem’s book is praiseworthy precisely because it gives a helpful condensation of three volumes in the Patrologia Latina. Hopefully it will be the starting point for further interest in this remarkable theologian.
Philosophisch-Theologische Hochschule
Sankt Georgen
Germany

RALF M.W. STAMMBERGER

Eleanor of Aquitaine: Queen of France, Queen of England. By Ralph V.
Turner. (New Haven:Yale University Press. 2009. Pp. xviii, 395. $35.00 ISBN
978-0-300-11911-4.)
One of the most famous women of the Middle Ages, Eleanor of Aquitaine
has no shortage of biographers. Their works fill American libraries, which
hardly keep up with those multiplying in French. Ralph Turner knows what
they say, especially with respect to “mythology” and what he calls the “black
legend” (cover text) of a frivolous and licentious queen. But his real interest
lies in the sources of knowledge, in stripping away such legends in quest of a
more accurate Eleanor.
His results command respect. From a lifetime’s research on Plantagenet
ways and means, Turner has a sure hand in the evidence. His Eleanor is persuasive in three ways. She is the grand protagonist of a historic Poitevin civilization, ever insistent on its claims and her own inheritance. Second, she was,
whenever possible, a working queen. Gaining experience alongside King
Louis VII in the 1140s, she pressed King Henry II for the responsibility he
soon learned to distrust or withhold. Repeatedly, his queen regained (as well
as lost) her initiatives, to the extent of achieving virtual regencies after
Henry’s death in 1189. Third, and most successfully, Turner brings out the
implications of Eleanor’s astonishing stamina and longevity. Her support for
Richard and John not only helped them through dangerous crises of power
and succession but also exemplified her humanely maternal instincts (and
energy) and her wisdom in old age. The “black legend” wholly misses the
point, Turner justly concludes.
The strength of this book owes much to its author’s conception of
Eleanor’s place in successive societies of power. Whether it is her paternal
Aquitaine, her bridal France, or her long and troubled Angevin attachments,
her life is set forth in its social contexts. The book is quite as much a history
of courtly power as of personality; an alternative history—and a good one—
of Henry II and his sons.Yet it is not quite, whether Turner sees this or not, a
“political” history. He is sparing with this modifier, to his credit.Yet he retains
it (e.g., p. 107), and he writes of “governing” throughout, while saying next to
nothing about lordship.The book is wedded to an old and anachronistic con-

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sensus that power in the twelfth century was like that in most modern societies: an experience of government and the state.Yet what Turner’s evidence
unfailingly shows is that Eleanor’s ways with power look not at all like those
of Eleanor Roosevelt. How is this to be made clear? Is it enough simply to
allow that “government” and “politics” have ever-changing meanings in history? So many readers still seem content with this escape that criticism here
is far from condemnation. So what was distinctive about Eleanor of
Aquitaine’s power? Because Turner says little about her experience of lordship and nothing at all of how this amounted to “governing,” his book quite
overlooks one of the most characteristic historical realities of her age.
Yet the author is impressively familiar with the primary sources. He is not
very close to them, for his citations reveal a heavy dependence on secondary
scholarship.This is, in fact, a virtue of the book, because the huge industry of
modern work on Eleanor of Aquitaine and the Plantagenets renders hazardous
any attempt to go it alone with sources. Turner deploys his evidence with
skills born of experience. Perhaps his most remarkable success, even if
achieved in a correct academic prose wholly devoid of rhetoric, is the exercise of historical imagination. Obliged throughout to place his subject in location or circumstance just where the evidence fails,Turner evokes Eleanor virtually day by day through a tumultuously historic lifetime.
Harvard University

THOMAS N. BISSON

The Clerical Dilemma: Peter of Blois and Literate Culture in the Twelfth
Century. By John D. Cotts. (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of
America Press. 2009. Pp. xiv, 322. $74.95. ISBN 978-0-813-21676-8.)
In this book, John Cotts offers a reassessment of Peter of Blois, who has
been neglected and even derided by scholars as an uninspired compiler. Cotts
rightly notes that despite his recent unpopularity, his letter collection was
widely read for centuries after his death. The author embarks on a reassessment that hinges on interpreting Peter as a borderland figure, who “bridged
gaps between symbol and system, between monastic and scholastic” (p. 15).
A major theme throughout the book is anxiety, in this case the anxiety of a
secular cleric who ultimately rose to the office of archdeacon, an office disdained by many of the reforming circles throughout the medieval Church
(and considering some of its holders, not entirely unjustly).
In chapters 1 and 2, Cotts gives a biography of Peter, tracing his life from
the schools of France and Italy to his service in episcopal and royal courts. He
then introduces Peter’s letter collection, which provides the evidence throughout the book for Peter’s character and concerns. Looking at the letters he
wrote for others and those he wrote in his own name, and comparing them to
the collections of other contemporaries, Cotts provides a picture of Peter’s
world through a look at his “epistolary community” (p. 63). An appendix gives
more details about theories regarding Peter’s successive compilations.

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Chapter 3 takes a closer look at Peter’s formation in the schools, uses of
legal and scholastic language, and shifting views on the value of secular learning. Chapters 4 and 5 then get to the heart of Peter’s interests, underlining his
attempts to define and defend the value of the secular cleric against the criticisms of his day. Cotts details his development of a theology, however incoherent, of service in the world and, in particular, of the need for clerics to use
their learning to advise kings and defend the Church. Peter’s writings on the
ideal bishop give examples of this service, and he reserved his greatest praise
not for someone like St.Thomas Becket but rather for more cooperative bishops like Baldwin of Ford and Walter of Coutances.
Finally, chapter 6 deals with Peter’s other theological writings, in which he
shows a growing concern with penance and the liturgy. The author also
defends Peter against some of the charges of the derivative nature of his
works, acknowledging that he borrowed but that he also uniquely internalized much of the language and piety of monasticism and diverted it for the
uses of clerics in the world.
Most of the chapters are organized thematically, and indeed Cotts emphasizes that he is not writing an intellectual biography (p. 16).This does lead to
material being revisited in such a way that at times the chapters read more
like separate essays than chapters of a book. In other respects, The Clerical
Dilemma is engagingly and lucidly written.Although Cotts does not entirely
free Peter from accusations of being a compiler, he does show his subject’s
uniqueness in his approach to his office. As he uncovers the facets of this
complex and contradictory individual, Cotts reveals the haziness of the borders between the simple categories with which Peter’s contemporaries and
many modern scholars interpret his world.This is a work that is valuable not
only in that it helps re-establish Peter’s reputation, but also in the different
perspective it provides on the culture of the twelfth century, especially the
oft-maligned culture of the secular cleric.
Our Lady Seat of Wisdom Academy
Barry’s Bay, Canada

RYAN FREEBURN

A History of the Abbey of Bury St Edmunds, 1182–1256: Samson of
Tottingham to Edmund of Walpole. By Antonia Gransden. (Rochester, NY:
Boydell & Brewer. 2007. Pp. xxx, 354. $105.00. ISBN 978-1-843-83324-6.)
Intended as the first part of a two-volume survey of one of the greater
Benedictine abbeys of medieval England, Antonia Gransden’s history of Bury
St. Edmunds in its golden age inevitably invites comparison with other such
studies, most notably Barbara Harvey’s ground-breaking volumes on the economy and domestic arrangements of the monks of Westminster. Whereas
Westminster boasts an extraordinary wealth of obedientary and manorial
accounts, Bury in the period 1180–1250 has bequeathed evidences equally
rich but slanted more toward the historical and the liturgical, in particular the

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Bury Customary of c.1234, and two great works of history: Jocelin of
Brakeland’s chronicle of Abbot Samson and the long anonymous history of
the election of Samson’s successor, Abbot Hugh. Taken en masse, these shed
unique light on internal squabblings and rivalries within the monastic community. Gransden’s survey reveals the full richness of the Bury sources,
although much of the second half of her book is recycled from previous
work, most notably from her introduction to the Customal that she first published in 1973.
Launching herself in medias res, with no attempt to trace the first two
centuries of the abbey’s existence, her book as a whole is perhaps better consulted, rather like the Bury sources themselves, as a series of selfcontained libelli, dealing with such themes as election, liturgy, learning, or the
economy, rather than as a coherent or comprehensive institutional history.Within these limitations there is much to admire.There are, for example,
fascinating details on such topics as bells and bell-ringing; the monks’ employment of minstrels, water clocks, windmills and ruby rings; the cult and profits
of the Bury saints; the problems that arose from allowing Cistercians to legislate on the diet of unreformed Benedictine monks; and a whole host of other
such things.
There is, however, a tendency to allow the tangential to run riot. Some of
the most original and fascinating details are consigned to footnotes (for example, at page 156 on the contrast between monastic voting at St. Albans and
Bury).There is rather too much of the simplicity of the dove and too little of
the cunning of the serpent. For example, it could be argued that excessive
credence continues to be afforded to Jocelin of Brakeland, despite Gransden’s
acknowledgment that Jocelin was capable of exaggeration or deliberate distortion. On those rare occasions when the testimony of Bury sources is called
into question, as for example in respect to a writ of King Henry II here
branded a forgery (on p. 54, in fact an almost certainly genuine mandate to
the eyre justices of 1177), or the charter of Edward the Confessor granting
free election here (pp. 155, 163) said to have left no trace before 1200 (in fact,
“renewed” in a well-known and apparently genuine charter of Henry II of the
1150s), it is unfortunate that the questions themselves can seem misdirected. In setting out a wealth of detail, Gransden occasionally misses broader
points. For example (p. 171), it is surely much more important to notice that
Pandulf was the first bishop of Norwich to serve as papal legate and hence
that Bury’s immunity from diocesan supervision came under particular threat
in the years around 1220, than it is to dwell upon the finer details of his dispute settlement.The fact that the abbey’s sacrist (p. 211) played so significant
a role in the ceremonial recognitions of the abbey’s lordship over the town
surely takes us back to the rise of a particularly powerful succession of sacrists in the twelfth century and even further back to the role of the sacrist as
custodian of the shrine and hence as chief earthly minister of St. Edmund
himself. Why continue blindly to trust Jocelin’s account of the golden gifts

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conferred by Eleanor of Aquitaine (p. 66), when Eleanor’s own letters on this
subject suggest that Jocelin’s account is significantly warped? Even in the
detail, there is some very careless proofreading.
No one knows the Bury source materials better than Gransden. Few
people have done more to broadcast their significance.The second volume of
her survey will be awaited with keen anticipation, tempered perhaps with the
hope that she may acquire the assistance of rather more hawk-eyed editors.
University of East Anglia

NICHOLAS VINCENT

Pope Celestine III (1191–1198): Diplomat and Pastor. Edited by John Doran
and Damian J. Smith. [Church, Faith and Culture in the Medieval West.]
(Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing. 2008. Pp. ii, xvi, 370. $99.95; £60.00.
ISBN 978-0-754-65671-5.)
This well-produced volume brings the career of Hyacinth Bobone into the
light, featuring his distinguished career as papal diplomat as well as his role
as Pope Celestine III—developing policies he inherited and passing them on
enhanced to his successor. The work of able scholars, the book is enriched
with abundant bibliography in the footnotes, illustrations, maps, and a thorough index.Anyone interested in twelfth-century Europe will find it valuable.
Anne Duggan surveys Hyacinth’s seventy-year career in the service of the
papacy, giving an especially detailed analysis of the politics of Italy during the
reign of Emperor Henry VI, with Hyacinth making the best of a difficult situation. John Doran examines Hyacinth’s life through an extended analysis of
politics in Rome and its immediate environs throughout the twelfth century.
He portrays Hyacinth as an effective and wise defender of papal interests, a
considerate provider for Rome and its people, and a model for the policies of
Pope Innocent III.
Damian Smith presents Hyacinth’s work as a papal agent in Spain, with a
lucid explanation of the complicated ecclesiastical and political competition
created by the Christian reconquest.Although Hyacinth achieved little diplomatic success in Spain, Smith suggests that “the energetic, highly respected,
purposeful Hyacinth” (p. 109) deserves some credit for the victory at Las
Navas de Tolosa years later.
Pascal Montaubin shows that throughout Hyacinth’s career, he had many
close connections to France, notably his support for Peter Abelard and Gilbert
de la Porrée, and his friendship with King Louis VII. Peter Edbury makes clear
that because Celestine was unable to overcome the dominance of Henry VI,
the competing forces in the Levant, and the intractable ambitions of the
Spanish princes, he had little influence on crusades in either end of the
Mediterranean.

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Barbara Bombi asks how the Livonian mission became a crusade, noting
that the distinction between military crusade and peaceful mission became
blurred in Germany during the 1190s, as preachers sought support for both
the Holy Land and Livonia.Torben Nielsen examines Celestine’s involvement
in the complicated political doings in the Scandinavian world, including King
Philip II’s rejection of Ingeborg. He concludes that Celestine was as well
informed and as effective as Innocent III was in dealing with the area. Ana
Marinković describes Celestine’s intervention in ecclesiastical matters in
Dalmatia, but notes that he did not deal with heresy there.
Anne Duggan rightly argues that anyone as active in curial affairs as
Hyacinth was would inevitably gain some knowledge of canon law. Her analysis of Celestine’s decretals supports her argument. Her valuable appendix provides the text of those decretals, in both Latin and English, indicating therein
how the texts were truncated as they passed into the Liber Extra.
Claudia Bolgia offers a very scholarly, if very speculative, discussion of
artistic works authorized by Celestine to preserve and protect relics, anticipating policies of Innocent III and Lateran Council IV. Marie Therese
Champagne points out that, despite the apparently friendly relations between
Celestine and the Jews of Rome, he made no effort to restrain the growing
animosity toward Jews in France and elsewhere.
Regarding marriage, Constance Rousseau provides many examples to
show that Celestine was a prudent and humane judge, but one determined to
defend the sacramental and indissoluble character of marriage—even against
the king of France. Regarding canonization, the late Michael Goodich provides
many examples to show that as legate and as pope, Celestine played a substantial role in developing papal procedures for canonization.
Finally, Brenda Bolton argues persuasively that Celestine pursued the
recovery of the papal patrimonium “as urgently and consistently as events
permitted throughout . . . his pontificate,” especially through cultivating strategically placed allies and through “visual propaganda” (p. 325).
Hofstra University (Emeritus)

JOHN C. MOORE

Elisabeth von Thüringen und die neue Frömmigkeit in Europa. Edited by
Christa Bertelsmeier-Kierst. [Kulturgeschichtliche Beiträge zum Mittelalter
und der frühen Neuzeit, Band 1.] (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2008. Pp.
ix, 349. $81.95. ISBN 978-3-631-56992-4.)
The sixteen essays in this collection originated in a 2007 conference held
in Marburg to commemorate the 800th anniversary of the birth of St.
Elisabeth of Thuringia (1207–31). The conference aimed to examine
Elisabeth’s caritative activity in the context of the “new piety” that emerged
around the turn of the thirteenth century.This religious sensibility was asso-

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ciated with radical notions of poverty, renunciation, and possibilities for
laypeople to live as religious within the world. Some contributors consider
this social and religious context, although most of the chapters engage with
questions concerning the development of Elisabeth’s cult and the reception
and reworking of her image as a spiritual model in later centuries.
The editor opens the collection with a survey of the major themes and
transformations in women’s religious life during the twelfth and earlythirteenth centuries, sketching the spiritual landscape and the opportunities and influences it presented to women such as Elisabeth. Harald Wolter
von dem Knesebeck also examines possible spiritual influences on
Elisabeth in his careful reading of the images in two luxury Psalters produced for her husband’s family, seeing in these models of renunciation and
affective piety that may have shaped the spiritual formation of the young
Elisabeth.The next two chapters consider how certain of Elisabeth’s close
contemporaries in eastern-central Europe interpreted her actions as a
model for their religious expression. Christian-Frederik Felskau focuses on
how Elisabeth’s charitable activities were emulated and adapted by her
aunt, Hedwig of Silesia, as well as her Přemyslid cousins Agnes and Anna;
and Miros law Mroz identifies parallels between Jutta of Sangershausen’s
eremitic life and her care of the poor and infirm in Poland with Elisabeth’s
charitable religious activity.
Several contributors explore the development of the hagiographic texts,
iconography, and traditions associated with Elisabeth’s cult. Two important
contributions examine aspects of Elisabeth’s veneration in liturgical contexts.
Stefan Morent investigates the origins of the rhyming office Letare
Germania, arguing for its likely source at the female Premonstratensian
monastery of Altenberg, where Elisabeth’s youngest daughter was a member.
Annette Löffler turns to the liturgical commemoration of Elisabeth by the
Teutonic Order, drawing on evidence from liturgical manuscripts to demonstrate the significance of her veneration for the spiritual identity of the order.
Klaus Niehr discusses the speed with which narratives of her life and actions
became established in visual models, with particular emphasis on the creation
of an iconographic typology of her life in the earliest reliquaries. Monika
Rener presents a reflective chapter on the interaction between hagiographic
models and readers in what she refers to as a process of self-sanctification—
an active patterning of one’s life on hagiographic models—such as Elisabeth
may have found, she suggests, in the Life of Radegund. Hans-Walter Stork
examines recently discovered evidence of a little-known pilgrimage by
Emperor Charles IV to Marburg in May 1357. Lothar Vogel offers a close textual comparison of the two versions of the testimony of her attendants in the
so-called Libellus de dictis quatuor ancillarum, a text of significance for the
development of her hagiographic tradition; and Stephanie Haarländer discusses how Elisabeth’s earliest biographers reconciled her status as wife with
that of holy woman.

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The final group of five essays presents insightful and nuanced analyses into
how the figure of Elisabeth as saint was represented and reworked in textual
and visual traditions in later centuries. Kristin Böse focuses attention on how
the legend of Elisabeth is depicted in two textiles embroidered in north
German convents in the later fifteenth century, examining how the figure of
Elisabeth was interpreted as a model of renunciation for these cloistered
nuns. The black-and-white illustrations in this chapter are scarcely distinguishable, regrettably preventing the reader from fully following the author’s
visual analysis. Barbara Fleith and Martina Backes shift the reader’s attention
to the reception of Elisabeth’s cult among female readers in France, arguing
that the model of piety represented in French prose and verse legends of this
saint held greater appeal for laywomen at court than enclosed nuns. Martin
Schubert examines how the image of Elisabeth was represented in several
German vernacular legends extending from the thirteenth to the fifteenth
centuries, Ulrike Bodemann traces how Elisabeth’s piety was portrayed in
three late-medieval picture cycles, and Klaus Knipf explores the context of
two Latin lives of Elisabeth composed by German humanists in the earlysixteenth century.
This collection is a valuable contribution to the considerable research into
the life and reception of Elisabeth of Thuringia. The quality of the contributions is very strong overall; the best of them engage closely with their material to arrive at new insights in their areas of concern. The volume demonstrates the value of finely contextualised local studies that expand our
understanding of how individuals and communities drew on figures such as
Elisabeth to articulate a sense of identity and express their place in the world.
This volume will appeal to scholars with particular interests in gender and
religion, hagiography, and practices of cultural transmission, as well as more
broadly to readers interested in later medieval religious life and culture.
Australian National University, Canberra

JULIE HOTCHIN

The Arts of Intimacy: Christians, Jews, and Muslims in the Making of
Castilian Culture. By Jerrilynn D. Dodds, Maria Rosa Menocal, and Abigail
Krasner Balbale. (New Haven: Yale University Press. 2008. Pp. xiii, 395.
$40.00 clothbound; $24.00 paperback. ISBN 978-0-300-10609-1 clothbound; 978-0-300-14214-3 paperback.)
The authors of The Arts of Intimacy describe their book as “less a work of
original scholarship than a different narration of cultural history” (p. 7).Their
declared aim is to make comprehensible to a general readership the extraordinarily complex process of cultural interaction that took place between the
Christian, Jewish, and Muslim cultures of the Iberian Peninsula between the
eleventh and the fourteenth centuries, before a new Spanish identity—which
preferred to draw a veil over the profound cultural hybridity that had gone
before—came into being in the early-modern period.Taking as its centerpoint

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the city of Toledo, the book illuminates this process of cultural cross-fertilization through the prism of the arts, architecture, and literature of the period.
In seven highly readable chapters, each divided into a series of carefully
crafted vignettes, the authors take the reader on an evocative and thoughtprovoking journey, and deploy their undoubted expertise in this field to
excellent effect. The text is supplemented by an immensely useful range of
inserts that provide information on key people, monuments, and texts of the
period, from the Treaty of Tudmir to the Marinids.The book does not exactly
break new ground, in that the subject matter will be familiar to specialists, but
it impels the reader to reconsider key texts and monuments from novel and
sometimes surprising perspectives.The analysis of Bab al-Mardum/Santa Cruz
in Toledo and its transformation from Muslim mosque to Christian church is
a notable case in point. It is pleasing to see that this cultural hybridity is not
viewed through rose-tinted glasses, and the authors wisely do not suggest that
the multicultural world of medieval Iberia was in any way a utopia of tolerance.The work is buttressed by an excellent bibliographical essay and extensive bibliography, as well as a chronology, genealogies, and a glossary of unfamiliar terms.
Inevitably, in a work of such broad scope, the emphases of the authors will
not be to the liking of all. One could argue, for example, that the Jewish
dimension—in particular, the role played by Jewish scientists, translators, and
literary exponents—does not receive the attention it deserves. There are
some other jarring notes. For example, the affirmation that the Cantar de mio
Cid “celebrated the values of the late eleventh century” (p. 38) is questionable, since so much of recent scholarship has demonstrated that work’s latetwelfth-century milieu. Furthermore, the chronology is littered with errors
too numerous to list here.
Despite these cavils, The Arts of Intimacy will become essential reading
for scholars and students of this period. Beautifully written and lavishly illustrated, the book represents a distinguished contribution to our understanding
of the cosmopolitan world of medieval Iberia. Praise is also due to Yale
University Press for offering such a splendid book at a very reasonable price.
University of Exeter

SIMON BARTON

Defenders and Critics of Franciscan Life: Essays in Honor of John V.
Fleming. Edited by Michael F. Cusato and Guy Geltner. [The Medieval
Franciscans, Vol. 6.] (Leiden: Brill. 2009. Pp. xv, 255. $147.00. ISBN 978-9004-17630-0.)
This volume consists of thirteen essays, which are divided into four sections: Franciscan Exegesis; Students and Scholars; Franciscan Critics and
Critics of the Franciscans; and Franciscan Legacies.The essays were presented
at an April 2004 conference held at Princeton University in honor of John V.

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Fleming and revisited his classic study, An Introduction to the Franciscan
Literature of the Middle Ages (Chicago, 1977). Thus, the breadth of the material treated extends beyond the somewhat limiting title of the volume.This is
duly noted in the editors’ introduction: The essays “engage in a multifaceted
exploration of the Franciscans’ impact on medieval life and culture” (p. ix).
In the exegesis section (pp. 9–54) there are two essays:“Francis of Assisi,
Deacon?: An Examination of the Claims of the Earliest Franciscan Sources
1229–1235” by Michael F. Cusato, and “Tobit’s Dog and the Dangers of
Literalism:William Woodford O.F.M. as Critic of Wycliffite Exegesis” by Alastair
Minnis. The first focuses on a text by Thomas of Celano and the second on
complicated biblical hermeneutic. The first moves forward discussion on
whether or not St. Francis of Assisi was a deacon.The second examines John
Wyclif’s thought on biblical literalism.
The second section (pp. 55–104) is more focused. The first essay,
“Franciscan Learning: University Education and Biblical Exegesis,” by William
J. Courtenay demonstrates how the mendicant orders “carried the principal
weight of biblical instruction” (p. 59).The second essay,“Using, Not Owning—
Duties, Not Rights: The Consequences of Some Franciscan Perspectives on
Politics,” by Janet Coleman revisits long-discussed questions. The third essay,
“Langland and the Franciscans on Dominium,” by Lawrence M. Clopper pursues the question of “perfect poverty,”“dominium,” and the necessities of life
“that God out of his grace made . . . common to all” (p. 102).
The third and longest part of the book (pp. 105–94) has five essays.Three
are on well-known topics:“William of St.Amour’s De Periculis Novissimorum
Temporum: A False Start to Medieval Antifraternalism” by Guy Geltner,
“History as Prophecy: Angelo Clareno’s Chronicle as a Spiritual Franciscan
Apocalypse” by David Burr, and “Two Views of John XXII as a Heretical Pope”
by Patrick Nold.The two other remaining essays open new areas:“Kicking the
Habit: The Campaign against the Friars in a Fourteenth-Century Encyclopedia” by Penn Szittya and “‘Si Sind All Glichsner’:Antifraternalism in Medieval
and Renaissance German Literature” by Geoffrey Dipple. In the former, the
friars were criticized for undermining “productive labor as the foundation of
society” (p. 171), and in the latter essay the friars were “identified as partisans
of an unpopular papacy” (p. 192). Friars are troublesome.
The fourth and last section offers diverse topics. First,“Imitatio Francisci:
The Influence of Francis of Assisi on Late Medieval Religious Life,” by Lester
K. Little investigates the influence of Francis on late-medieval religious life.
The combination of images, which this essay integrates, is indeed remarkable.
The second essay of this last section is on “Louis IX: Preaching to Franciscan
and Dominican Brothers and Nuns” by William Chester Jordan. Who ever
heard of Louis IX, king and saint, as a preacher? Did his affection for mendicant preaching orders lead him “to think of himself as something akin to
them, a preacher himself”? (p. 233).And again, on preaching, there is the final

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essay in the volume,“Preaching as Playwriting:A Semi-Dramatic Sermon of the
Fifteenth Century,” by Katherine L. Jansen.This essay brings the reader up to
date on new studies on the performance of late-medieval preaching, especially as preaching became both spectacle and theater, through the popular
Observant Franciscan friars.Ventriloquism helped. In fact, again in view of the
diverse voices and ring tones heard throughout this entire collection of
essays, a little ventriloquism will help the reader.
Saint Louis University

J.A. WAYNE HELLMANN, O.F.M. CONV.
Early Modern European

The Impact of the European Reformation: Princes, Clergy and People.
Edited by Bridget Heal and Ole Peter Grell. [St Andrews Studies in
Reformation History.] (Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing. 2008. Pp. xii,
305. $124.95. ISBN 978-0-754-66212-9.)
Insofar as Reformation studies have in the past been guided by grand syntheses, the focus has been on modernization, and especially on ways in which
Protestantism has been seen as providing an impetus to modernization. As
Bridget Heal remarks here, most scholars nowadays pursue their own paths,
no longer feeling a need to respond to the grand syntheses. Hence this
volume is intended to “counteract” the trend toward “fragmentation” by providing “a broad perspective on the impact of the European Reformation” (p.
1). But a broad perspective may simply display the centrifugal tendencies
instead of counteracting them, and that is largely the case here.
Three of the essays do address elements of the modernization thesis in one
way or another. Luise Schorn-Schütte (chapter 5, “The ‘New Clergies’ in
Europe: Protestant Pastors and Catholic Reform Clergy after the Reformation”) surveys recent literature and concludes that overall trends were largely
similar in both religious camps: Clerics were not only more educated; they
were also more and more likely to come from bourgeois households. In
effect, Max Weber’s Protestant-inspired modernity here gives way to the “confessionalization” thesis, according to which rival churches worked in tandem
to change the outlook and behavior of ordinary believers. Christopher Haigh
(chapter 6, “The Clergy and Parish Discipline in England, 1570–1640”) argues,
as against the distinction that Margo Todd has recently made between the
Kirk of Scotland and the Anglican Church, that ministers and churchwardens
in England worked effectively and largely behind the scenes to maintain
parish discipline. More interestingly, and against his own previous understanding of things, he contends that anticlericalism is a constant in religious
history, rising to prominence “sometimes and in some places” largely in
response to “clerical sensitivty to criticism” (p. 125). Alexandra Walsham
(chapter 10,“Sacred Spas? Healing Springs and Religion in Post-Reformation
Britain”) shows how Protestant writers came to accept and promote many of

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the holy wells of pre-Reformation Britain, not because of their association
with popish saints, but because their waters were found to contain minerals
thought to have curative power. There was thus a connection between
Protestantism and desacralization, but not in the simple way that has often
been proposed.
Five other essays are worth citing as fine examples of Reformation scholarship done well, each in its own sphere. Tom Scott (chapter 1, “Hubmaier,
Schappeler and Hergot on Social Revolution”) shows that for the radical
thinkers in question, there were indeed circumstances in which Christians
might legitimately seek to overthrow the existing order. His larger point is
that there was a “continuum” (p. 17) between these ideas of social revolution
and the idea of resistance to tyranny as propounded by leading Reformers,
notably Ulrich Zwingli. Kevin Gould (chapter 4,“The Contest for Control of
Urban Centres in Southwestern France during the Early Years of the
Reformation”) begins in medias res, at a point when Catholic and Huguenot
parties were already at daggers drawn in many cities of the southwest. The
essay shows how Huguenot assaults on centers of power and control were
thwarted in towns where leading Catholics were able to fashion a new kind
of solidarity by drawing together co-religionists from many different social
ranks. Michael Graham (chapter 8, “Kirk in Danger: Presbyterian Political
Divinity in Two Eras”) adopts the novel strategy of comparing the political
engagement of ultra-Presbyterians among the Scots clergy in the 1590s and
the 1690s. By doing so, he shows both the emergence of a historical memory
within the Kirk and the continuity of clerical views on the Crown’s duty to
true religion. Margo Todd (chapter 9, “Fairies, Egyptians and Elders: Multiple
Cosmologies in Post-Reformation Scotland”) offers a variant on the caveat
that has often accompanied studies of Scotland’s thorough-going Calvinist
Reformation. Even among the educated, faerie belief persisted into the eighteenth century, in part, she suggests, because the capricious power of these
nature-spirits offered an explanation for family tragedies that the Kirk could
not explain. Finally, Andrew Pettegree (chapter 12, “French Books at the
Frankfurt Fair”) provides interesting comment on the titles of 302 French-language books on offer at the Frankfurt fairs, from a twenty-five-year run of catalogues published in Augsburg. His appendix gives the titles, some 10 percent
of which represent books of which no extant copy is known.
University of Minnesota (Emeritus)

JAMES D.TRACY

The Reformation of Feeling: Shaping the Religious Emotions in Early
Modern Germany. By Susan C. Karant-Nunn. (New York: Oxford University
Press. 2010. Pp. x, 342. $74.00. ISBN 978-0-195-39973-8.)
Susan Karant-Nunn has undertaken a comparative study of the role of emotion or feeling in the religious experience of Catholics, Lutherans, and
Calvinists in early-modern Germany. She relies mostly on sermons preached

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at times when religious emotions were most likely to be aroused: observances
of Holy Week and pastoral care of the dying. She defines her subject simply:
It is about the use of preaching to shape the religious experience of people
through rhetorical appeals to their emotions. The great Catholic preachers
exploited the emotions surrounding the Passion of Christ, describing his suffering in great detail.The goal was to inspire hearers not just to meditate on
the Crucifixion but also to experience vivid religious emotion—to shed tears.
Such preaching went back to late-medieval sermons; it continued in the sermons of later figures, especially Jesuits and Capuchins; and it made a major
contribution to the restoration of Catholic religious life in Germany. In addition to their stress on the gruesome details of Jesus’ Crucifixion, Catholic
preachers exploited traditional veneration of the Virgin Mary to arouse their
hearers’ feelings. Karant-Nunn notes many ways in which Protestant religious
practice turned away from these traditions.Yet her Protestant preachers also
strove to stir the emotions. Elements of continuity with medieval religion are
most obvious in Lutheranism. Although Martin Luther criticized efforts to
arouse weeping, he approved use of sermons to stir up feelings of religious
commitment. Lutheran sermons avoided detailed description of the suffering
of Christ; they shifted attention from the Passion to the redemptive power of
Christ’s death and resurrection. References to Mary’s sorrows were much
diminished. But Lutherans did not mount a radical attack on tradition.
Emphasis shifted from the events of Holy Week to the salvific death and resurrection of the Savior. When Karant-Nunn turns to Calvinist preaching, she
faces greater difficulty. Calvinists broke far more sharply with traditional religious practice. This is no new discovery, as she admits. But she demonstrates
that beginning with Calvin himself, Reformed preachers turned away from
the details of Christ’s Passion and emphasized the decisive effect of Christ’s
self-sacrifice for the redemption of the elect. The Virgin Mary almost disappears from Calvinist sermons. The Calvinist preacher still seeks to stir the
hearers’ emotions, but the main goal is to arouse shame for the human sins
that render all individuals incapable of salvation except through God’s eternal election.
Several chapters pursue the use of emotions in particular situations:
attacks on the Jews as perpetrators of the Crucifixion, use of traditional devotion to the Virgin Mary to stir the emotions, and pastoral care for the dying.
Chapter 7 raises the difficult question of how to gauge the success or failure
of clerical efforts to touch the emotional core of religious experience.This is
the most speculative section, since Karant-Nunn has no broad body of quantifiable sources and must resort to a handful of case studies based on writings
that may be sincere but inevitably are the work of members of the privileged
and articulate classes. Her analysis of these spiritual writings is thoughtful and
sensitive, but at best, her conclusions from them can be only tentative. This
book does not claim to present a full treatment of its vast topic, but KarantNunn is a hard worker and a shrewd analyst of her sources. Her book is a
valiant, even daring, expedition into the spiritual world underneath the theo-

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logical debates, colloquies, political schemes, wars, and treaties that in the
past have filled the pages of most histories of the German Reformation.
University of Missouri (Emeritus)

CHARLES G. NAUERT

Living with Religious Diversity in Early Modern Europe. Edited by C. Scott
Dixon, Dagmar Freist, and Mark Greengrass. [St Andrews Studies in
Reformation History.] (Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing. 2009. Pp. xiv;
301. $114.95. ISBN 978-0-754-66668-4.)
This well-made volume contributes to current critiques of early-modern
Europe: the age of confessionalization and the rise of toleration. As generalized in the very good introduction by C. Scott Dixon, it aims to understand
how religious culture was fashioned less through orthodoxy, discipline, and
command than through negotiation, adaptation, and resistance.
The main weight of the volume lies in the Netherlands and the German
lands.A masterful overview by Willem Frijhoff ends with the insight that the
secularization of eighteenth-century Dutch public life laid foundations for
reconfessionalization of religious groups in the nineteenth century (largely
true also of post-Napoleonic Germany). It is followed by Wayne te Brake’s
study of the culture and geography of secrecy and dissimulation that protected such minorities as Calvinists in Catholic Flanders, Irish Catholics in
conquered Wexford, and Anabaptists in the Bernese Emmental and Judith
Pollmann’s searching exploration of why Dutch Catholics responded to militant Calvinism so much more passively than did French Catholics.
Two chapters treat mixed marriages. One by Dagmar Freist explores a religiously mixed district of the eighteenth-century prince-bishopric of
Osnabrück and finds that people learned over time that a detailed marriage
contract was their best guarantee against intramarital religious conflict. The
other by Benjamin J. Kaplan examines Reformed-Catholic marriages in eighteenth-century South Holland in the late 1730s. It finds that while husbands
wielded greater power in mixed marriages, neither they nor their wives succumbed to efforts of clergy, relatives, or anyone else to coerce them.A third,
complementary study by Bertrand Forclaz finds in eighteenth-century
Utrecht a progressive crystallization of confessional belonging but also a
prevalence of family solidarities over religious division.
Six diverse studies round out the volume. Their central themes are the
importance of aristocrats, many of them Lutheran converts, to popular
Catholicism in the Viennese Counter-Reformation (by Karl Vocelka); the minimal effect of noble conversions and reconversions on the confessions (by
Keith Luria); elaborate altarpieces in Lutheran Transylvania that celebrated in
an anti-Calvinist spirit the Passion of Christ (by Maria Crǎciun); the compatibility of lay Protestant religion with belief in fairies (by Peter Marshall); the
minimal impact on generally conciliatory local relations between English

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Protestants and Catholics of Protestant writers’ use of metaphors of disease
and corruption for anti-Catholic purposes (by Alexandra Walsham); and the
journey of a young Württemberg prince to France in 1608–09 as an opportunity to display the Lutheran faith there, although in fact little evidence is
adduced of the prince’s public display of his faith (by Dorothea Nolde).
The spirit of this excellent volume is well characterized in Mark
Greengrass’s afterword: “There was no high road to toleration, signposted
from the Reformation, but only a set of muddy and winding streets, most of
them not one-way” (pp. 283–84).
University of California, Berkeley

THOMAS A. BRADY JR.

Expositions of the Psalms: Enarratio Psalmi 38, De sarcienda ecclesiae concordia; Enarratio Psalmi 14, Qui est de puritate tabernaculi sive ecclesiae christianae. By Desiderius Erasmus. Edited by Dominic Baker-Smith;
translated and annotated by Carolinne White and Emily Kearns. [Collected
Works of Erasmus,Vol. 65] (Toronto: University of Toronto Press. 2010. Pp.
xxvi; 299. $110.00. ISBN 978-0-802-09979-2.)
This volume is the third and final work of Erasmus’s expositions of the
psalms in the Collected Works of Erasmus (CWE). It displays the same care,
accuracy, and elegance scholars have come to expect of all volumes in CWE.
Like volumes 63 and 64, this one follows the chronological order in which
Erasmus published these works (unlike the Leclerc [LB] and Amsterdam
[ASD] editions of Erasmus’s Opera Omnia, which follow the Psalms sequentially). Dominic Baker-Smith provides a thoughtful introduction to the three
psalms, referring readers to his (excellent) introduction in volume 63 to
understand “the full range and the implications of Erasmus’ engagement with
the Psalms” (p. xi); Carolinne White and Emily Kearns give insightful introductions to their respective pieces.
Of singular importance in Erasmus’s expositions of these psalms is the
access they give to the author’s spiritual yearnings and theological developments; to the effects of the demands and attacks continually made on him; and
to the changes in his outlook on the tumultuous world of Reformation Europe
in the five years before his death in July 1536, when he still harbored hope
for a theological accommodation with groups at odds with the Roman
Church.As the editor puts it,“These three works represent his final thoughts
on the great crisis facing western Christendom, but they are thoughts which
have to be understood within a particular phase of the response to the
Reformation” (p. xii). Erasmus still placed hope in a council; short of that, in
an assembly of right-minded men who, in good faith, might reach a compromise acceptable to all interested parties.
The free flow of ideas in Erasmus’s enarrationes brings us to the heart of
his biblical-humanist spirituality. Expounding Psalm 38, published in 1532, he

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pours out his inner life and anguish in meditative instruction for readers. He
interprets the words of the psalm as a metaphor of the Christian who,
although chastised publicly, refrains from lashing back at accusers and detractors, learns to control his responses so that they be productive of Christian
community, and—in respect to this moment of the Church’s crises—finds the
patience to listen with an open heart to the other’s teachings.Aware of how
intense theological disputes tend to flare up instantly, Erasmus pleads for
restraint, prayerful reflection, and irenic and charitable responses.
Erasmus’s enarratio of Psalm 84, commonly known as “On Mending the
Peace of the Church” (De sarcienda ecclesiae concordia), published in 1533,
responds to requests from friends to draw up proposals for bringing about
church unity at a time “so fertile in schisms” (p. 135). Erasmus urges readers
to stay united:“if we seek real peace of mind, let us remain in the tabernacle
of the Lord of hosts and stay in the unity of the Catholic church …’ (p. 171);
he begs God that “we may lay aside our differences of opinion and feeling,
and, be in agreement in the same mind and the same opinion …” (p. 197). In
conclusion, Erasmus offers proposals for mending the Church, pleading that
differences in practices, teachings, views, and traditions be allowed until a
council pass final judgment.
Erasmus’s exposition of Psalm 14, On the Purity of the Tabernacle or of
the Christian Church, published in January 1536 and dedicated to a customs
officer at Boppard am Rhein, sees in its Christological interpretation a statement on Christian piety that does not reject all external forms of worship but
ensures that such practices are “restored from superstition to piety” and that
the “mind [be] made pure through faith and innocence and prepared by love
to treat everyone well” (p. 263). Again, this exposition reinforces Erasmus’s
view that unity must mark the members of Christ’s church; despite the vast
disagreement over theological issues and religious practices, each Christian
“must not depart from the holy mountain of God on which the true church
is built” (p. 246). Erasmus’s interpretation of these three psalms captures
uniquely and most vividly his personal circumstances, spirituality, and theological vision at the end of a truly remarkable life.The editor and translators
deserve high commendation for their work.
Mount Holyoke College

FREDERICK J. MCGINNESS

Katerina’s Windows: Donation and Devotion, Art and Music, as Heard and
Seen through the Writings of a Birgittine Nun. By Corine Schleif and
Volker Schier. (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press. 2009.
Pp. xliv, 579. $110.00. ISBN 978-0-271-03369-3.)
Research on women’s patronage of religious art has emphasized its more
“creative” angles. Katerina’s Windows also illuminates essential, but less glamorous, aspects. In 1516 a Nuremberg widow, Katerina Imhoff Lemmel
(1466–1533), entered the Birgittine abbey of Maria Mai. Lemmel brought not

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only substantial wealth but also experience in the commercial ways of the
world. Religious superiors let neither go to waste.
Lemmel had scarcely settled in before the abbess made her the equivalent
of today’s church development officer. Sixty surviving letters reveal how this
resourceful woman forged chains of influence linking her convent to the
world. Hans Imhoff, her cousin and recipient of the letters, emerges as Mai’s
indispensable (and long-suffering) “gofer” beyond the wall.
Lemmel’s first letter asks for money; later ones ring unremitting changes
on this numbing refrain. By her second letter she is apologizing:“I am happy
to see that you too have become a beggar, so you will not look so disapprovingly at my begging. See how it is with holy poverty!” (p. 127). By letter 6 she
is also apologizing for constantly importuning poor Imhoff, but reassures him,
“I believe you soon will have less to do” (p. 141). Exactly the opposite proves
true. “Dear Cousin, don’t be frustrated with all the trouble that we put you
through” (p. 261) becomes a counterpoint to Lemmel’s pervasive, mendicant
theme.
After nearly three years Lemmel remarks, “Dear Cousin, you write that I
should relieve you of some responsibilities, which is only right” (p. 321). But
the indomitable Birgittine does not change her tune. When another cousin
dies, she hustles for a handout.“If you are an executor, then I wanted also to
come begging to you and ask if you could not have something come our way.
. .” (p. 346).And she plays that well-worn convent trump card:“. . . because we
are also to be counted among the poor and homeless, being locked up in one
of these poor monasteries. . .” (p. 346).
Lemmel’s persistent tactics were essential—and worked. Within three
years new stained glass (hence, the book’s title) adorned the abbey, thanks to
Lemmel’s generosity and dunning letters to relatives. The delicate processes
of gift solicitation, commissioning, and creation of the windows constitute
the book’s most illuminating aspects, with details on glass painting and
patrons’ roles in choosing subject matter. Lemmel urges relatives “not [to]
decide on the images without having a look at the Passion of Our Dear Lord
and the Sorrows of the Virgin Mary” (p. 278). What must the cousins have
thought when Lemmel promptly looked their gift horses in the mouth? Their
new windows did not encourage [spiritual] “desire,” and “where our beloved
Lord is crowned—he sits there like a fat priest!” (p. 321).
But by 1526, the fruits of Lemmel’s labors lay in ruins.With unmatched narrative intensity, a Chronicle of the Peasants’ War from Mai’s House Book
vividly describes the 1525 uprising (a useful excerpt for undergraduate reading lists). Children chant on the hillside, “You must leave this place and get
out of here” (p. 402), as nuns watch from attic windows. Beating drums in the
distance and pikes menacing above the abbey wall presage imminent attacks.
As the nuns sing Mass, peasants loot convent treasures secreted in the garden,
and shout,“Stop your howling.We have had enough of it!” (p. 406).They leave

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behind decapitated crucifixes; statues thrown in manure heaps; and, of
course, broken windows.
Like many antiquarians’ rambling chronicles, the book’s encyclopedic
commentary on Lemmel’s letters leads readers off the primary path onto
many a byroad, some more pertinent than others.The authors, however, opted
for “full-sized windows of our own, . . . rather than resort to the tedium of footnotes or the hubris of an all-engulfing narrative into which excerpts, selected
and extracted from the sixteenth century, would be carefully transplanted” (p.
xxxviii).The commentary’s tendency to paraphrase each document requires
readers to cover the same material twice and challenges them to ferret out
the useful amid the redundant and marginally relevant.The prolixity separating letters can also obscure the primary sources’ continuity. But since letters
and commentary appear in contrasting typefaces, readers can follow
Lemmel’s words on their own—a productive, alternative strategy that the
authors in fact suggest.
Washington University in St Louis

CRAIG A. MONSON

John Calvin and Roman Catholicism: Critique and Engagement, Then and
Now. Edited by Randall C. Zachman. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic.
2008. Pp. 224. $26.99 paperback. ISBN 978-0-801-03597-5.)
The relationship between Catholicism and the Protestant Reformation of
the sixteenth century remains a point of debate and discussion.The last generation has witnessed a welcome and positive warming of the relationship
between Catholicism and the Reformed churches. But what of the historical
legacy of John Calvin himself? Does not the figure of the Genevan reformer
cast a shadow over this emerging relationship? If Jerome Bolsec, one of
Calvin’s earliest and most critical biographers, is to be believed, Calvin was an
arch-heretic whose obvious theological failings were made even worse by his
deplorable personal habits. Not only did Calvin bed just about every married
women in Geneva; he was also a notorious sodomite.
This excellent collection of essays by Protestant and Catholic scholars will
help lay such stereotypes to rest. The papers, originally delivered at a 2007
conference at the University of Notre Dame, cover a good range of historical
and contemporary issues, and represent a balanced and scholarly account of
occasionally tendentious topics. The opening chapters deal with the historical context of the conflicts between Calvinists and Catholics. In an excellent
account of early Roman Catholic lives of Calvin—including Bolsec’s masterpiece of historical spin—Irena Backus helps us understand the context that
generated these highly critical works. The late George Tavard and others
explore case studies that illuminate the specific historical circumstances,
showing how local political concerns often exacerbated existing religious
tensions. Charles Parker offers a particularly thoughtful essay on Calvinism
and Catholicism in the Dutch Republic, noting the factors that both encour-

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aged co-existence and called it into question.These essays demonstrate how
the critical study of the past can cast light on the present, not least by allowing us to understand the intellectual complexity of past debates and tensions
that are too easily described reductively as “religious.”
The three final chapters turn to deal with explicitly theological issues.
Carlos Eire offers a fine paper on Calvin’s critique of idolatry, seeking to identify the theological basis of his concerns. For Eire, the origins of idolatry lie
not in Satanic deception, but in the fallibilities and failings of human nature.
Eire’s attempt to locate Calvin’s relationship to Catholic thought on this issue
is interesting and ought to generate some good discussion. Randall Zachman,
the editor of the volume, offers a provocative assessment of Calvin’s ecclesiology. In addition to documenting shifts in Calvin’s doctrine of the church and
its structures, Zachman offers somewhat more speculative reflections on the
pressures that may have led to these. Although the evidence is less than compelling, Zachman argues that Calvin’s changed ideas may have resulted from
dialogue with Catholics. Finally, Dennis Tamburello provides an evaluation of
Calvin’s sacramentality, especially in his doctrine of creation. Interestingly,
Tamburello begins his discussion of this topic with an account of twentiethcentury concerns over this question within Catholicism and Protestantism,
before turning to Calvin for possible illumination. This fruitful reflection on
the visible self-disclosure of God is itself an important indication of how
useful Calvin can be to contemporary reflection on theological themes by
both Catholics and Protestants.
These essays are both a testimony to the excellent state of Calvin scholarship, especially within the Catholic Church, and an important resource for the
constructive engagement of the past. If these authors are right, the theological debates of the past need no longer be the cause of ecumenical friction.
They might even become a source of intellectual enrichment.
King’s College, London

ALISTER E. MCGRATH

Martyrs and Murderers: The Guise Family and the Making of Europe. By
Stuart Carroll. (New York: Oxford University Press. 2009. Pp. xvi, 345.
$34.95. ISBN 978-0-199-22907-9.)
Few families have been as vilified as the Guises, but in this book Carroll
sees them more as the martyrs in the title than murderers. His focus is
squarely on the two generations active from 1550 to 1588; he has little on the
founding generation in France—Claude and Jean, who established the pattern
of the eldest brother serving as the duke of Guise and the second serving as
a cardinal. A cadet branch of the House of Lorraine, the Guises claimed
descent from Charlemagne and had extensive interests in the Holy Roman
Empire. When Claude’s eldest child, Marie, married James V of Scotland and
gave birth to Mary, Queen of Scots, the Guises broadened their interests to
Scotland and England, since Mary stood high in the English line of succession.

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Carroll emphasizes their vast ambitions through the chapter “Dreams of
Empire,” which deals largely with their efforts to place Mary on the English
throne but also their labors to increase their holdings in France and the
empire.
The Guises were so successful, Carroll asserts, because of their amazing
family solidarity.The many siblings and cousins in the two generations under
study worked exceptionally well together. Again and again, Carroll notes
family meetings held to determine their way on issues.The presence of matriarchs Antoinette de Bourbon and Anne d’Este was equally important to family
unity. Antoinette, Claude’s widow, with her “austerely pious” (p. 5) dedication
to traditional Catholicism and mores, set the tone for the family for more than
thirty years. It was the Guises’ commitment to Catholicism that was most
responsible for the vilification that they received, but Carroll demonstrates
that the Guises were flexible in religion. Many clients were Protestants, as
were several spouses; Anne d’Este, wife of Duke François, was raised
Protestant. Cardinal Charles de Lorraine is presented as believing that “the
true allies of the Gallican reformers were the Lutherans rather than the Pope”
(p. 157). Only after his hope for compromise with the Protestants was dashed
at the Colloquy of Poissy and the Council of Trent did he accept conservative
Catholicism.
François de Guise is notorious for the Massacre of Wassy (1562), but
Carroll gives a nuanced discussion of the event, showing Antoinette’s role
with her complaints to her son about the Protestants in the village, and
absolves François of premeditation, stressing his shock at hearing bells at an
inappropriate time. The author overstates it as “one of the great transformative events of European history” (p. 12). The elements of religious war were
already in place; had Wassy not touched it off, another event would have.The
episode was responsible for the duke’s assassination a year later by a
Huguenot. Carroll provides a detailed account, demonstrating that it was
murder, not simply Guise’s death at a siege. Under torture, the assassin implicated Admiral Gaspard De Coligny, but then recanted the accusation. The
author notes that Coligny admitted paying the assassin to spy on Guise, a fact
that is rarely mentioned in works on the era. Convinced that Coligny was
responsible, the Guises sought revenge on him, which they achieved during
the St. Bartholomew’s Massacre in 1572. Carroll examines the possible motivations of all implicated parties and concludes that the Guises would not have
dared to act without the approval of at least one member of the royal family;
whether it was Catherine de’Medici or Henry, duke of Anjou (later Henry III),
he cannot say. He points out that Henri de Guise provided protection to several Huguenots after Coligny’s death.
The book moves quickly through the next sixteen years until the deaths
of Henri and Louis, his brother and cardinal of Lorraine, at Henry III’s order in
December 1588. Carroll downplays the extent to which the Guises were
allied with King Philip II, but does little to enlighten their role in the Catholic

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League.A brief epilogue carries the story to the family’s extinction in 1675.
There are a few errors. One involves the statement that royal debt of 100 million livres in 1576 was ten times that of 1559 (p. 227), but the debt in 1559
was around 43 million livres. Second, Philip II had two daughters, not one,
with Elisabeth, his French wife (p. 258). Scholars should want more notes in
a book that mines primary sources extensively, but it includes several fine
maps and genealogical tables.
Carroll states that he thought he had finished with the Guises after publishing his earlier work on the family, but his editor persuaded him to write
this one. Historians of sixteenth-century France must applaud his editor.There
is more to be said about the Guises, especially those of the first and third generations, but this book is not likely to be supplanted anytime soon.
Virginia Polytechnic Institute and
State University

FREDERIC J. BAUMGARTNER

The Catholic Imaginary and the Cults of Elizabeth I, 1558–1582. By
Stephen Hamrick. (Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing. 2009. Pp. viii, 232.
$99.95. ISBN 978-0-754-66588-5.)
Stephen Hamrick explains that his objectives in this study are to demonstrate the influences of Catholic worldviews on English “shorter poetry” and
to trace how different poets employed representations of Catholicism within
the Petrarchan cults of Elizabeth during the first half of her reign. From this,
it is evident that his study is a work of literary criticism that (as he readily
admits) is deeply indebted to Louis Montrose. Like Montrose, Hamrick takes a
historicist approach in re-situating Petrarchan literatures within their original
religious and cultural contexts.Also like Montrose, Hamrick accepts the existence of cults of Elizabeth that, although unstable and potentially contradictory, were nonetheless part of the ideology operated by the political nation.
The novelty of Hamrick’s study is that he is looking at lesser-known texts of
the early-Elizabethan period. At the same time, he is employing the theoretical apparatus of cultural-anthropologists to a much greater extent than do
others.
Although Hamrick’s interdisciplinary approach is laudable, it also creates
some problems for readers who are historians. His use of literary or anthropological jargon sometimes obfuscates and often jars: to take one example,
when discussing the impact of Elizabeth I’s famous walk-out during the
Christmas Mass of 1558, Hamrick concludes that “the cognitive dissonance
created by her actions achieved much the same type of defamiliarization and
symbolic or structural disaggregation characteristic of liminal rituals” (p. 24).
Another problem is that in his hands, historical events sometimes take on
meanings that were unlikely to have been understood or appreciated by contemporaries. When describing the same incident, he calls Elizabeth’s action
her appropriation of the Mass, in that she became “a kind of invisible pres-

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ence which her subjects take into their thoughts for contemplation rather
than contemplation of Christ in the Host” (p. 23). By talking about her behavior, Elizabeth’s subjects were, moreover, metaphorically taking Elizabeth into
their mouths as they would consume the sacrament (p. 230).
That being said, Hamrick’s study is strong in the range of texts it discusses
and for setting them within their political and religious contexts. In chapter 2,
Hamrick brings out effectively the uncertainties of the early 1560s, when
Catholic practices continued and the succession issue remained undecided,and
puts up a good case that these concerns formed the background to a range of
writings, but especially Barnabe Googe’s Eclogues, Epitaphs, and Sonnets
(1563). This miscellany he generally interprets as an ideological critique of
Catholic practices, spectacles, and the Elizabethan cult at court, while the
malevolent figure of Coridon, he argues, refers to Robert Dudley. In chapters 3
and 4 Hamrick turns to the 1570s and in particular the poet George Gascoigne.
Gascoigne, explains Hamrick, stood out from the many Protestants who
attacked Italianate, erotic literature in a courtly discourse that they perceived as
Catholic in its values and sensibilities. By contrast, Gascoigne “re-engaged the
cults of Elizabeth” (p. 84) and transferred traditional pieties “through the
Catholic imaginary” to those cults (p. 86).This he did during a period of heightened anti-Catholicism induced by the Northern Rebellion, papal excommunication, and Ridolfi Plot. In chapter 5, Hamrick analyzes Thomas Watson’s Latin
sonnet sequence Passionate Century of Love (1582) and argues that the poet
uses the Catholic imaginary to assert the possibility that Catholics could be
loyal to the queen; to reject the Anjou marriage scheme; and to act as an apology for his patron, Edward de Vere, the earl of Oxford.
Hamrick persuasively argues that poetry and other texts allude to Catholic
practices and values. Here, he builds well on recent historical and cultural
studies that show the pervading influence of Catholic sensibilities within
Elizabethan England. However, he is less persuasive in demonstrating the
influence of the “Catholic imaginary” on representations of Elizabeth. His
argument depends on a reading of texts that is sometimes controversial, as
when he associates Elizabeth with Gascoigne’s Ferenda in Dan Bartholmew
(1575) and The Grief of Joye (1577).The jury is still out on that one.
University of Oxford

SUSAN DORAN

Church, Society and Religious Change in France, 1580–1730. By Joseph
Bergin. (New Haven:Yale University Press. 2009. Pp. xviii, 506. $55.00. ISBN
978-0-300-15098-8.)
Scholarship on the Church and society in France is a crowded field. As
Joseph Bergin readily acknowledges, the work of John McManners on the
eighteenth century did not leave one stone unturned. In 1683 pages,
McManners described how the church’s presence or relationship evolved to
the times of the French Revolution. Although more humble in format and

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price, Bergin’s work is no less impressive. For him, evolution is the operative
concept. Centering on the internal history of the French Church, he describes
its complex organization (part 1), clerical structure (part 2), bishops and
priests as “agents of change” (part 3), and the effect of these “instruments of
change” on French Catholicism at large (part 4).The last part offers an assessment of the key agents of this religious change: the sodalities, the Dévots, and
the Jansenists.
Bergin, who is well versed in Catholic reform efforts in France (he previously wrote on Cardinal François de La Rochefoucauld, an early, major “agent
of change”), seems to hesitate to use the concept in favor of a more elusive
term. Bergin demonstrates that he knows perfectly well what to be a Catholic
in seventeenth-century France meant, and he knows how to communicate
this knowledge in a way that makes sense to both the believer and the historian. For example, in the pages devoted to spirituality (pp. 310–28), he communicates the depth of a personal relationship with God; and his observations on the question of “frequent Communion” suggest the awe experienced
by devout Christians for a God made present through transubstantiation—far
from the respectful familiarity of Catholics after the Second Vatican Council
(pp. 265–68).Too often, similar syntheses of topical research on socioreligious
themes limit themselves to repeating their results without much of an appreciation or evaluation, or simply repeat the usual clichés on popular religion.
In contrast, Bergin, although faithful in his exposition, comments, nuances,
and sometimes criticizes these findings.
However, in his evaluation of change, the author does not seem to regard
the presence of the Protestant minority as a major factor. As he states, this
belongs more to the external history of church and politics on which he is
preparing a companion volume. However, as the last chapter on Jansenism
implies, the constant scrutiny of the “little flock” was more than a motivation
for reform or renewal. As this volume excellently shows, it influenced the
content of this change.This remarkable work, therefore, will be very useful in
“Church and Society” classes in colleges and universities and, it is hoped, will
be complemented by a second volume of equivalent quality.
The Catholic University of America

JACQUES M. GRES-GAYER

Catholiques et protestants sur la rive gauche du Rhin: Droits, confessions
et coexistence religieuse de 1648 à 1789. By Laurent Jalabert. (Brussels:
Peter Lang. 2009. Pp. 546. $72.95. ISBN 978-9-052-01479-1.)
This nuanced and sophisticated study examines religious developments in
the German-speaking territories to the west of the Rhine River in the century
and a half after the end of the Thirty Years’ War. These territories were profoundly affected in this period by the growing power of France, which supported the expansion of Catholicism in a predominantly Protestant region.
Laurent Jalabert shows, however, the complex consequences of French

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efforts in the context of international wars, the institutions of the Holy Roman
Empire, and the particularist traditions of the region. Ultimately Jalabert
argues that the efforts to promote Catholicism led to a growing “pluriconfessionalism” and a rough-and-ready toleration in the context of everyday life in
the towns and villages.
Jalabert has conducted extensive archival research across a region that
stretches from Alsace in the south to the region around Trier and Mainz in the
north and from the Lorraine in the west to the Rhine in the east.The political
fragmentation of the region was a cause of religious divisions and certainly
complicates the research. One strength of Jalabert’s study is its sensitivity to
this complexity. Another is his familiarity with German, French, and Englishlanguage scholarship, a breadth that remains unusual in this field.
Jalabert’s well-organized study is divided into three chronological periods.
He begins by examining the Peace of Westphalia and its impact in the region
up to the 1680s.The second period of the study reflects French historiography and focuses on the dramatic impact of King Louis XIV’s France on the
region between about 1680 and first decade of the eighteenth century. The
last and longest section examines the development of religious identity, confessional cultures, and religious coexistence across the eighteenth century.
Part I emphasizes that religious minorities, particular Catholic minorities,
appeared across the region in the aftermath of the war, mostly because
authorities were not choosy about who arrived to farm fields and rebuild
houses. In part II the emphasis shifts to the role of the French state. In the
western territories, many of which were “reunited” with France, Louis XIV’s
officials aggressively supported Catholic minorities, building churches, paying
for priests, supporting conversion campaigns, and making life difficult for
Lutheran or Reformed ministers.The impact of these policies was noticeable,
but Jalabert points out that even Louis’s officials did not overplay their hand.
Aggressive in the territories absorbed into the Kingdom, French officials were
more circumspect in the imperial territories they dominated. Furthermore,
Protestant communities defended their rights tenaciously, often outlasting
French efforts, as evidence by “relapses” by Catholic converts in the earlyeighteenth century.
In part III Jalabert describes the characteristics of a “multicultural and
multiconfessional society” (pp. 319–20). Both Protestants and Catholics
accepted a mix of religions in many places and adapted to new circumstances.
The conversion of a number of ruling families to Catholicism (especially the
electors of the Palatinate) meant that Catholicism had political support. At the
same time, Catholic territories, particularly the ecclesiastical territories, experienced the same religious revival found elsewhere in Catholic Germany, with
a focus on pilgrimage, processions, and confraternities.
In a multiconfessional region, however, the very public nature of Baroque
Catholicism had to adapt to local conditions. Many churches were shared by

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Catholics and Protestants (the Simultaneum), which required a certain cooperation between the confessions and limited the public demonstration of
Catholicism. The realities of daily life also forced toleration. There were, for
example, always mixed marriages. Jalabert also shows that traditions of popular culture, particular festival life, remained strong in villages and transcended confessional lines, as did communal loyalties, for example in conflicts between village communities and landlords.
Jalabert argues that the confessional frontier was not really a cultural frontier west of the Rhine, as it seems to have been in biconfessional cities like
Augsburg. There were some differences in choice of names, and Catholics
were generally from the poorer families in villages, but he locates few clear
differences in family size, occupation, educational levels, and the like.
Frontiers, Jalabert points out, are often permeable and places of cultural
exchange, and he argues that that was the case in these communities. People
had somewhat different practices at important rites of passage such as birth,
marriage, and death, but these “indicated a consciousness of difference, but
not of opposition” (p. 518).
Connecticut College

MARC R. FORSTER

Spanish Humanism on the Verge of the Picaresque: Juan Maldonado’s
Ludus Chartarum, Pastor Bonus, and Bacchanalia. Edited with introduction, translation, and notes by Warren Smith and Clark Colahan.
[Supplementa Humanistica Lovaniensis, XXIV.] (Leuven: Leuven University
Press. Distrib in the United States by Cornell University Press. 2009. Pp. vi,
291. $69.50 paperback. ISBN 978-9-058-67708-2.)
To most aficinados of Spanish literature, the term picaresque evokes
images of canonical novels such as the anonymous Lazarillo de Tormes,
Mateo Alemán’s Guzmán de Alfarache, Francisco de Quevedo’s Buscón, and
Francisco López de Úbeda’s La Picara Justina. Few readers would think of
finding traces of the picaresque narrative—its mimetic portrayal of low-life
and profound social, moral, and didactic intention—in the three works by the
Spanish Renaissance humanist Juan Maldonado that are translated, studied,
and coedited in the present volume by Warren Smith and Clark Colahan.
Originally intended to awaken the reader’s consciousness on the sociopolitical and religious corruption of the time, picaresque writings have continued
to attract the curiosity of students and scholars alike. And it is precisely the
sense of intellectual curiosity that has prompted Smith and Colahan to delve
into some of the most engaging, albeit little-known work by Maldonado. A
professor of humanities at the University of Burgos, he is best known for the
Latin dialogue Somnium (modeled on Cicero’s Somnium Scipionis), which
tells of being caught in a dream interplanetary space with a vision of recently
Christianized America.The merit of this bilingual edition and its accompanying critical study is that it brings to the forefront the importance and rele-

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vance of three of Madldonado’s other works, which, in their intrinsic conceptual framework, pave the way to the future picaresque discourse found in
the best novels of the genre.
A linkage to the later picaresque prose is suggested by Smith and Colahan
first by examining Maldonado’s instructional colloquy, the Ludus Chartarum
Triumphus (1541, 1549) describing games where luck and skill are at play,
not unlike the traits associated with the best rogues found in Spanish literature: the Ludus’s portrayal of daily life in a Spanish Renaissance town, the
work’s dramatic and comic dimensions as well as its pedagogical and edifying
purposes are all ingredients of the picaresque narrative.
In his Pastor Bonus of 1529 (printed 1549) Maldonado provides a detailed
literary portrait of ecclesiastical corruption and offers a program of regeneration, a point studied by Marcel Bataillon and others over the years. The
church hierarchy, notes Maldonado, is given over to wealth, luxury, and pleasure, and the ordinary priest is seen as ignorant and self-serving, a figure that
brings to mind five of the nine future masters of Lazarillo.
The third of Maldonado’s works included in the present volume is the
Geniale Iudicium siue Bacchanalia, a farcical play with comic allegory and
slapstick cast at carnival time, with a story of a victory of self-control over
gluttony.As the editors point out, illustration of a vomiting scene in this work
evokes a similar image in the episode of the roasted turnips in the first
tratado of the Lazarillo.The presence of the grotesque, together with a good
measure of irony and satire in the Bacchanalia, provide a further bridge to
the incipient picaresque narrative of the sixteenth century.
Smith and Colahan should be commended for their scrupulous rendition
of Maldonado’s Latin texts and the corresponding English translation of works
that are surely now going to be read with increased interest by the academic
community. Their introductory commentaries to the Ludus and the Pastor
Bonus are brief but informative; it is a pity, however, that their critical assessment of the Bacchanalia in relationship to the picaresque is not more fully
elaborated.
The Catholic University of America

BRUNO M. DAMIANI

Antonio Possevino. I gesuiti e la loro eredità culturale in Transilvania. Atti
della Giornata di studio, Cluj-Napoca, 4 dicembre 2007. Edited by
Alberto Castaldini. [Bibliotheca Instituti Historici Societatis Iesu, Vol. 67.]
(Rome: Institutum Historicum Societatis Iesu. 2009. Pp. xx, 188. €40,00.
ISBN 978-8-870-41367-0.)
The extraordinary development of studies of the Society of Jesus in recent
years has still not extended to some leading Jesuits such as the Italian Antonio
Possevino (1533–1611)—humanist; missionary; secretary of the Society of

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Jesus; diplomat; and, of course, bibliographer of the Counter-Reformation.
Although many scholars have recently dealt with Possevino in partial
investigations, no one has highlighted the depth and range of his multifaceted
personality.The main merit of this book—which contains the proceedings of
a December 2007 conference in Cluj-Napoca—is exactly the attempt to illuminate, in a limited period and a limited geographical scope, different traits of
Possevino’s personality and work. Alberto Castaldini describes the early life
of Possevino, analyzing the influence of his family (likely of Jewish origin) on
his future life and the role of the important Gonzaga family; he tutored
Francesco and Scipione, both future cardinals. At that time the presence of
heterodox movements in Mantua could have influenced Possevino.
Additionally, the alleged Jewish ancestry of Possevino and many Jesuits in the
sixteenth century had a remarkable importance in the early history of the
Society of Jesus, as shown by Robert A. Maryks’s The Jesuit Order as a
Synagogue of Jews: Jesuits of Jewish Ancestry and Purity-of-Blood Laws in
the Early Society of Jesus (Leiden, 2009).
Marek Inglot, S.J., presents an overview of Possevino’s activity from 1578
to 1587 when he was pontifical legate in Sweden and Russia, trying unsuccessfully to convert the kings John III Vasa and Ivan IV “the Terrible” to
Catholicism.The real success of his missions was the creation of educational
institutions, in particular papal seminaries for Catholics (not only for people
who intended to receive sacerdotal ordination) in Eastern Europe.
Vasile Rus describes the commitment of Possevino to missions in
Transylvania, considered a strategic ground for stopping the Turkish advance,
but also to the conversion of Muslims. Since the years when he was the secretary of the Society, and later when Pope Gregory XIII sent him to
Transylvania, Possevino made great efforts to promote the Jesuit missions in
this land.
The essay by Luigi Balsamo (which was published in Bibliofilia in 2008)
is devoted to the history of the Commentario di Transilvania, the major historical undertaking of the Mantuan Jesuit. Completed by Possevino in 1584
but not published until 1913 by Andrea Veress, the Commentario is a valuable
document of Possevino’s working method. With this book, the Jesuit wanted
to give specific suggestions to the king, Stephen Báthory (who had protected
the Catholic minority in Transylvania and called for the presence of the Jesuits
there), and to the pope: In Possevino’s view, they had to collaborate to spread
Christianity throughout Transylvania.
A brief contribution by Ioan-Aurel Pop describes Possevino’s interest in the
Romanian people. Nicolae Sabău, in a well-documented contribution, examines the project and the construction of the Jesuit Seminary of Cluj (1584),
questioning the existence of a “Jesuit style” in architecture.
The final two essays concentrate more generally on the presence of Jesuits

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in Transylvania: Ionuţ Costea tells the exciting story of the Jesuit College in
Cluj, which was the fulfillment of a desire shared by Catholics and Protestants
in late-sixteenth-century Transylvania; and Doru Radosav offers a historical
overview on the fortune of the Jesuit cultural model in the Banat, an area bordering Transylvania.The appendix offers a selection of the Commentario di
Transilvania, which is very useful because of the difficulty in finding the
1913 edition.
Even if the essays are not of equal quality, the volume remains an important contribution to the understanding of the cultural heritage of the Jesuits
in Transylvania and of the intriguing personality of Possevino. Additionally,
the book highlights the need for a full-scale study of Possevino; the only existing biography, dating from the eighteenth century, is definitely obsolete.
DePaul University

EMANUELE COLOMBO

I documenti vaticani del processo di Galileo Galilei (1611–1741). New edition enlarged, revised, and annotated by Sergio Pagano. [Collectanea
Archivi Vaticani, 69.] (Vatican City: Archivio Segreto Vaticano. 2009. Pp.
cclviii, 332. €60,00. ISBN 978-8-885-04262-9.)
Twenty-five years ago, Sergio Pagano and Antonio Luciani published the
official edition of the major church documents related to the 1633 trial and
condemnation of Galileo Galilei.The 1984 edition was one of the most tangible products of the Galileo Commission (1981–92) appointed by Pope John
Paul II. Pagano’s revised edition reflects two decades of subsequent scholarship. It is also a tribute to the importance of the Roman Catholic Church’s
decision to open the Archivio della Congregazione per la Dottrina della Fede
(ACDF), which contains the historical archives of the Holy Office and the
Congregation of the Index, to lay researchers in January 1998.There is now a
considerable body of new research regarding not only the specifics of
Galileo’s trial but also the institutions of the post-Tridentine Church in general. Pagano’s revised introduction offers a lengthy reflection on this new
research. His revised account of Galileo’s trial is especially indebted to the
research of scholars such as Annibale Fantoli, Ugo Baldini, Franco Beretta,
Michel-Pierre Lerner, Michele Camerota, Egidio Festa, and Massimo
Bucciantini. Although Fantoli’s major study provides Pagano with the basic
narrative for his revised account of the events leading up to the trial, the work
of Beretta establishes the framework for a more careful understanding of the
mechanisms of the Roman Inquisition.
Pagano is also generous in acknowledging the efforts of other scholars in
bringing to light new documentation. In 1984, he rushed to include a transcription of the famous G3 document (the anonymous accusation against the
atomism of The Assayer), which Pietro Redondi made the centerpiece of his

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controversial and fascinating account of Galileo the atomist the year before.
Twenty-five years ago, Pagano was highly critical of Redondi’s identification
of the author as the Jesuit Orazio Grassi and also eager to establish his own
role in the document’s discovery. Pagano now updates his analysis, resolving
the mystery by invoking Rafael Martínez’s identification of the author as a
member of the circle of Cardinal Tiberio Muti, bishop of Viterbo. At the same
time, he credits Redondi for reigniting interest in the complexities of the trial
but remains unconvinced by Redondi’s argument about the role of atomism
in Galileo’s trial.
More systematic research and better transcriptions have yielded a number
of additional documents, including one minor item from the Galileo dossier
in the Archivio Segreto Vaticano; seven documents from the papal nuncios in
Florence and Vienna regarding Galileo’s sentence and abjuration; and twenty
items from the ACDF. The thirteen items from the Barberini Latini manuscripts in the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana included in the revised edition
are less archival discoveries—most were previously published by Favaro but
not included in the 1984 edition—than an acknowledgment that Cardinal
Francesco Barberini’s correspondence with Galileo, his pupil Benedetto
Castelli, the Florentine nuncio, and one or two others is directly pertinent to
a fuller documentation of the trial. There has also been further attention to
the organization of the material. For example, Document G3 has now been
placed in chronological order (in 1984 it was the final document in the
volume). It is now accompanied by the publication of one of the important
new documents to emerge in recent years: the Jesuit Melchior Inchofer’s
report on The Assayer for the Congregation of the Index, probably written at
some point between 1628 and 1631.
Thanks to the archival work of many of the previously mentioned scholars,
Pagano’s new edition contains a more complete and satisfying record of the
deliberations of the Roman Inquisition on Galileo’s book.It also traces more systematically how news of his condemnation and abjuration traveled from Rome
to other cities through Barberini’s correspondence with regional inquisitors
and papal nuncios. Finally, it brings to light a handful of surviving requests from
the late-seventeenth century that asked permission to read Galileo’s prohibited
Dialogue (1632), and one instance in which the Congregation of the Index
noted the presence of this book in the library of Cardinal Pietro Sforza
Pallavicino, S.J. In such documents we see the softening of attitudes toward the
Galileo Affair that would ultimately led to Galileo’s rehabilitation.
Pagano’s careful attention to the nature of the documentary evidence,
inspired by the work of the previously mentioned historians, is also evident
in a number of his conclusions. He confirms Beretta’s analysis of the composition of the trial dossier between 1615 and 1633. He supports the view that
the Special Injunction of February 26, 1616, of Saint and Cardinal Robert
Bellarmine, S.J., is an authentic document of the period. He also presents
Barberini’s absence from the final proceedings as part of the normative pro-

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ceedings of the Roman Inquisition, undermining efforts to transform it into a
statement of protest. Finally, Pagano supports Beretta’s view that Vincenzo
Maculani was the principal author of the sentence.
What Pagano does not do is to interpret strongly the trial of Galileo.
Pagano’s Galileo is a “good and sincere Catholic, no less proud of his religion
than his discoveries” (p. L), but this is about as far as he goes in taking a position. Like any good editor of a document collection, he invites us to read the
sources. Also, there is limited discussion of the English-language scholarship
on Galileo written in the past twenty-five years. However, it should be noted
that recent work in other languages is extensively discussed, which
Anglophone scholars often do not probe as thoroughly as they should, given
its importance. It will be a pleasure to see what the next generation of historians does with this considerably amplified and far more contextualized version of the documentary history of Galileo’s trial.All of us are the beneficiaries of Pagano’s sincere desire to create a new and better edition of these
foundational documents.
Stanford University

PAULA FINDLEN

The Vincentians: A General History of the Congregation of the Mission.Vol.
I: From the Foundation to the End of the Seventeenth Century,
1625–1697. By Luigi Mezzadri, C.M., and José María Román, C.M.
Translated by Robert Cummings. Edited by Joseph E. Dunne and John E.
Rybolt, C.M. (Hyde Park, NY: New City Press. 2009 Pp. xx, 393. $49.99. ISBN
978-1-565-48321-7.)
This volume, originally published in 1992, is part of a planned five-volume
general history of the Congregation of the Mission, founded by St.Vincent de
Paul.The first two volumes have appeared in French and Italian, and the present work is a competent and readable English translation of the first volume.
The authors want “to help the current (Vincentian) community understand its history better.”They set out to present the “essential facts” employing “an historical framework that is global and sufficiently scientific.” Further,
the authors state they made the “important choice” to “favor the story ‘of the
Missioners’ over what we call ‘the mission.’”They note,“At the center of the
story are people, not institutions” (p. 6).
This is an unevenly written and repetitive work that lacked a strong editorial hand at the time of its original European publication.The best chapters
provide interesting and valuable descriptions of the community life and ministerial experiences of early Vincentians. Statistical analyses are strongly supportive of the narrative at these points.
However, the work suffers from the authors’ choice to define “the mission”
as the story of “institutions” rather than the story of how a transcendent reli-

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gious charism institutionalized by a saintly founder evolves as its members
individually and collectively struggle (sometimes successfully and sometimes
not) to remain faithful amid the constant change produced by the forces of
history and faith.
Unfortunately, the authors also fail to provide and interpret adequately the
“essential facts,” including the development of the early-modern European
confessional absolutist state (particularly Bourbon France) and the interplay
of the theological, disciplinary, and spiritual forces of the Tridentine reforms
in France. Examples of this include their unfocused descriptions of the history and context of the Gallican/Ultramontane struggles during the reign of
King Louis XIV, and the nature and consequences of the legal and religious
relationship of the congregation to the French state first created by King
Louis XIII’s approval of the community in 1627.
The authors also present their judgments about the congregation’s history
and the founder’s intentions in the light of contemporary choices of how to
live out that charism. One major problem that plagued the Congregation of
the Mission for most of its history was nationalistic divisions, specifically the
“problems with French identity.” These divisions took place when Vincent’s
call for absolute unity and uniformity (as an infallible basis for authenticity
and efficacy) were narrowly identified by a community headquartered in
Paris, with a dominant French leadership that believed French cultural and
spiritual practices naturally provided a firm foundation for a French community that had become international.The authors note:
This is not what St. Vincent had intended. He had wanted a French community of evangelizers, not exporters of a culture and hegemony. He
wanted to sow charity abroad, not colonies for Paris-something that, however, would be attempted in China and in other countries in the following
two centuries. (p.100)
For the authors, the interpretation of Vincentian history seems to be too
easily settled by the sentence “this is not what St.Vincent had intended.” Such
sweeping generalizations, supported by debatable historical evidence, but
made definitive by a direct appeal to a religious founder do not help this
study fulfill its stated purposes.
DePaul University

EDWARD R. UDOVIC, C.M.

Liturgy in the Age of Reason: Worship and Sacraments in England and
Scotland, 1662–c. 1800. By Bryan D. Spinks. (Burlington, VT: Ashgate
Publishing. 2008. Pp. x, 284. $99.95. ISBN 978-0-754-66089-7.)
This is the third volume of a series of studies concerning sacramental theology by Bryan Spinks. The first one, Two Faces of Elizabethan Anglican
Theology (Lanham, MD, 1999), focused on the teaching of William Perkins and

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Richard Hooker.A second volume—Sacraments, Ceremonies, and the Stuart
Divines (Burlington, VT, 2002)—involved a much larger group of writers and
covered Scotland as well as England.The present book takes up where its predecessor ended, in 1662, and carries the investigation forward to the end of the
eighteenth century. In his initial study Spinks drew attention to some surprising similarities between Perkins and Hooker, especially their shared Reformed
or Calvinist assumption that the sacraments of baptism and the Eucharist only
benefited the unconditionally elect.This insight serves to emphasize just how
important was the anti-Calvinist or Arminian breakthrough when it came in
the 1620s with Richard Montagu, who locked horns with his Calvinist opponents on the subject of baptismal regeneration. During the Laudian ascendancy of the 1630s a similar Arminian understanding of the Eucharist as available to all was developed by writers such as Edmund Reeve and Robert
Shelford, although it is a cause for regret that these were not among those
authors whom Spinks chose to discuss. But he correctly emphasizes the role
played thereafter by the Westminster Confessions and Catechisms, produced
under the aegis of the Long Parliament. Indeed, one can go further than the
author and suggest that after 1662 attitudes toward the Westminster standards
served to differentiate the sacramental teaching of the established church on
the one hand from that of English Dissenters and Scottish Presbyterians on the
other until well into the eighteenth century.The exemplar chosen by Spinks
of what appears by 1700 to have become the normative position of the
Church of England is Gabriel Towerson. According to Towerson, baptism
washes away original sin in all receivers without distinction, while the
Eucharist is the means to repair subsequent falls from grace by baptized
adults—arising from their concupiscence. At the opposite end of the theological spectrum Spinks singles out the Congregationalist minister and hymn
writer Richard Davis, noting his links with antinomianism and describing his
views as “counter-cultural” (p. 94). Nevertheless, hard-line predestinarianism is
similarly to the fore in a much more mainstream figure such as Thomas
Doolittle. A protégé of Richard Baxter, Doolittle’s best-selling Treatise concerning the Lord’s Supper (1667) goes unmentioned by Spinks. In pursuit,
however, of his “Age of Reason”theme he provides a fascinating chapter on the
influence of Isaac Newton and John Locke, and the associated “rational” gloss
on the sacraments by the likes of Benjamin Hoadley, while linking this to the
growing vogue at the time for so-called moralism.This in turn helped to provoke an evangelical revival later in the century, which, despite the
Arminianism of Wesley, had strong Calvinist affinities. Good use is made here
and elsewhere of the evidence provided by hymns. Spinks also defends the
seeming paradox that “evangelicalism was . . . an authentic expression of
Enlightenment principles,” illustrating this proposition from the teachings of
John Fletcher, vicar of Madely and “a staunch supporter of Wesley” (p. 161).Yet
this case remains harder to argue for Calvinists, both north and south of the
border.The volume concludes with three interesting chapters on worship in
England and Scotland in the later eighteenth century; both the illustrations and
descriptions provided of church interiors serve to highlight the differences

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especially as regards the Eucharist, the railed altars favored by the Church of
England contrasting with the long tables and seated communicants of the
Scottish Kirk. Overall, Spinks is to be congratulated for opening up a number
of key aspects relating to the religious life of post-Reformation Britain.
University College London

NICHOLAS TYACKE

The English Catholic Community, 1688–1745: Politics, Culture and
Ideology. By Gabriel Glickman. [Studies in Early Modern Cultural, Political
and Social History, Vol. 7.] (Rochester, NY: The Boydell Press. 2009. Pp. x,
306. $115.00. ISBN 978-1-843-83464-9.)
The time is certainly right for a new study of the English Catholic community in the eighteenth century. J. H. C. Aveling’s The Handle and the Axe
(London, 1976) has been supplemented by many more recent studies, including Alexandra Walsham’s groundbreaking Church Papists (Rochester, NY,
1993), Clotilde Prunier’s painstaking archival study Anti-Catholic Strategies
in Eighteenth-Century Scotland (New York, 2004), numerous Irish studies,
and more specialist monographs such as John Watts’s Scanlan:The Forbidden
College, 1716–1799 (East Linton, Scotland, 1999). This book is part of this
process, but it does not advance it as much as it might have done, despite its
archival care and deeply textured discussion.
As the dates of this study suggest, Gabriel Glickman’s approach is strongly
linked to the Jacobite era. This gives it clear parameters, but it also creates
more than one methodological problem, since it involves him in the study of
a complex international movement with strong support among many nonCatholics. In invoking the Catholic Jacobite diaspora’s experience on the
Continent, for example, a religious particularism is assumed without any testing of the largely integrationist thesis offered against the experience of
English Anglicans, Scots Episcopalians (who often networked very well, not
least in Italy), and indeed Irish Catholics. The Irish in Europe project at
Maynooth and the work on Irish Brigade officers by Nathalie Genet-Rouffiac
in France are highly relevant to Jacobite diasporic experience, as is Steve
Murdoch’s Network North (Leiden, 2006) and Rebecca Wills’s The Jacobites
and Russia, 1715–1750 (East Linton, Scotland, 2002). Much of this work does
not seem to have been consulted, which poses a problem with discussing
Jacobite and Catholic diaspora together. The former has a rapidly growing
body of scholarship attached to it that will naturally tend to qualify assertions
about the latter.
Glickman’s introduction suggests that the Catholic experience is largely
dismissed, with much more attention paid to anti-Catholicism. This is rather
overstating the case, given more sympathetic developments in recent scholarship, and Glickman himself could have found more room for antiCatholicism. His picture of the Gallican, reformist Catholicism (p. 18), which
might have benefited from “peaceful integration” (p. 53) had the “Glorious”

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Revolution not happened, is on one level a useful corrective to a mindless
stereotyping of the Catholic community in England as either dustily conservative or wilfully recidivist, but it equally seriously understates the widespread hatred of Catholics and their faith that existed in English society, particularly with local gentry elites.
Here another methodological issue intervenes, because Glickman’s argument is often conducted by means of a whistle-stop prosopography of the
Catholic gentry. This methodology is similar to that found in Leo Gooch’s
Desperate Faction (Hull, 1995), but the book is about the Catholic community as a whole, not about the gentry-led Rising of 1715. There are serious
problems with the sources here, it is true: but moving away from courtiers
and foxhunters might have involved Glickman with more of the awkward
questions raised by the anti-Catholicism that he tends to avoid. There is no
reason to dispute the statement that there were “one hundred gentry families
loyal to the faith in Yorkshire alone” (p. 55), but there are limits as to what this
can tell us about what it was like to be a northern Catholic.The key problem
here is that a gentry-dominated thesis is an uncomfortable way of exploring
the condition of the marginal and excluded internal subaltern, for whom the
penal and treason laws were closely linked. What about Catholic lack of
access to the professions? What about Catholic entrepreneurs, at home or
abroad? What about the movement and mission of the clergy, and the extent
to which they were really pursued? Where were the poorer Catholic communities, if anywhere? How did they maintain their religious identity? How
was Catholicism represented to itself, given the representations of the press?
What about worship in the embassy chapels? Glickman’s subheadings give an
idea of how far these or related topics are addressed:“Catholic divisions and
the course of royal policy” (p. 40),“English Catholics and the exiled court” (p.
70). “The theory of Jacobite absolutism” (p. 99), “Europe and the ‘Catholic
oath’” (p. 135),“The Catholic reformers in English politics” (p. 246), and so on.
Despite the fact that there is no attempt to deal with Scottish or Irish
Catholicism, substantial discussion of Andrew Ramsay fails to note that he was
a Scottish Catholic with a distinct religious background, while the three pages
spent on ideology in the religious houses do not compare well with Niall
MacKenzie’s 2004 Cambridge thesis on the topic. Compared to, say, Patrick
Fagan’s Catholics in a Protestant Country (Dublin, 1998), the discussion
does not venture into the structures of the penal laws, nor the society they
were intended to create.
This book has many merits as a discussion of a social elite; John Caryll and
other familiar figures are well covered.Within this sphere it does its job convincingly.What it is not is a study of the Catholic community as a whole, nor
does it make a serious effort to reflect the problems and diversity of that
group. Glickman’s study has many good and detailed features, but its title is
not one of them.
University of Glasgow

MURRAY PITTOCK

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Late Modern European
The Western Front of the Eastern Church: Uniate and Orthodox Conflict in
Eighteenth-Century Poland, Ukraine, Belarus, and Russia. By Barbara
Skinner. (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press. 2009. Pp. xvi, 295.
$42.00. ISBN 978-0-875-80407-1.)
In 1596 a segment of the Orthodox Church in the Polish-Lithuanian
Commonwealth recognized the supreme authority of the pope and accepted
some Roman Catholic doctrines but retained Orthodox liturgical practices
and structures. This act marked a split within the Ruthenian (Ukrainian and
Belarusian) community that has remained to this day. In this book, Barbara
Skinner traces the conflict between Uniates (those who were in union with
Rome) and Orthodox in the eighteenth century.Although this was a struggle
within the Ruthenian community, the conflict presented by Skinner was
shaped and its outcome determined largely by major powers—the PolishLithuanian Commonwealth and Russia.Thus Skinner traces a story of Uniate
predominance under Poland followed by the virtual elimination of the
Uniates after the partition of Poland in imperial Russia. She does not cover the
fate of the Uniates who, as a result of the partitions, were incorporated into
Austria, where the Uniate Church was able to flourish.
Skinner’s major contribution is that of placing this story within confessionalization theory, previously applied to Western Europe. She demonstrates
how the two contending churches reinforced group unity and identity by
insisting on their own doctrinal, liturgical, textual, sacramental, and pastoral
practices.This study gives an excellent account of the confessionalization of
the Uniates, showing how Uniate practices, which differentiated them from
both Roman Catholics and Orthodox, were codified and implemented. The
account of the Orthodox side is less developed since the confessionalization
of the Orthodox in the seventeenth century constitutes only the background
of Skinner’s study. It is noteworthy that the Uniates also adopted many of
these Orthodox reforms.
Skinner emphasizes the novelty of her contribution citing the lack of previous research and dismisses much of the work of Ukrainian and Belarusian
historians on the grounds of their narrow national perspective. Her historiographic introduction ignores the fact that many twentieth-century scholars
have worked on religious history, one of the most developed fields outside
Ukraine, in part because of access to Vatican and other sources. On the question of national perspective, I fully agree with the author’s assertion that “care
must be taken not to confine this history within a single national paradigm—
Polish, Ukrainian, Belarusian, or Russian” (p. 234). However, I take strong
exception to the implication that in this study Skinner has somewhat vanquished the national interpretation.The cultural-national narrative was there
from the beginning, since many seventeenth- and eighteenth-century

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Ruthenians presented their cause as a struggle of the Ruthenian
nation/people against Polish oppression.This view is in no way less valid or
correct than Skinner’s broad political confessional approach. In fact, the two
narratives are not inherently contradictory. Each simply approaches the topic
from a different perspective. It is the unwarranted and unnecessary condescension to virtually an entire historiography that mars this otherwise thoroughly researched and well-written study.
University of Alberta

ZENON E. KOHUT

The Cambridge Companion to John Henry Newman. Edited by Ian Ker and
Terrence Merrigan. (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2009. Pp. xvii,
280. $29.99 paperback. ISBN 978-0-521-69272-4.)
This collection of thirteen essays aims to introduce readers to the theology of Blessed Cardinal John Henry Newman (1801–90) as well as, in the
words of the editors, meet the “great need for an accessible, comprehensive
and systematic presentation of the major themes” of Newman’s work (p. xii).
An additional aim is to show the “contemporary relevance” of Newman’s
thought in the context of “modern and postmodern concerns and themes” (p.
xii). The choice of contributors certainly corresponds to these aims; all are
academic theologians from the United States, Great Britain, Ireland, Rome, and
Belgium who have published works on Newman or on themes that exist in
his work. The themes covered include the Church Fathers, revelation, faith,
justification, development of doctrine, the Church as communion, infallibility,
authority in the Church, conscience, theology in the university, and preaching. A concluding chapter,“Newman in Retrospect,” deals specifically with the
relevance of his thought in a “postmodern” philosophical context.
Inevitably, in this kind of collective work, the level of contributions is
uneven. Several chapters are excellent (Terrence Merrigan on revelation,
Thomas Norris on faith, Gerard J. Hughes on conscience); others are very
good; and a few barely rise above the level of vulgarization. Differences would
seem to exist also in the audience that contributors seek to reach. Some take
for granted that the basic facts of Newman’s life and work are already known
to the reader; others adopt a narrative and descriptive approach, which could
have been omitted because of the excellent opening chapter by Sheridan
Gilley that provides an overview of Newman’s life and work.
Finally, the large number of authors and approaches leads to a degree of
repetition and even, on occasion, mutual contradiction. It is thus amusing to
find disagreement between Ian Ker and the late Cardinal Avery Dulles, S.J.,
concerning the identity of the “faithful” referred to in the title of Newman’s
controversial article of 1859 (for Ker, the term refers to the whole Christian
body, composed of both laity and clerics; for Dulles, one simply composed of
the laity).This is by no means a criticism; for the reader, such divergences of
interpretation are a stimulus to further research and reflection.

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The question, however, must be asked: Does this collection of essays provide a complete and rounded picture of Newman? The answer is, emphatically, no. Almost a third of his published work is made up of volumes of sermons. Yet only one chapter, situated near the end of the book, is devoted to
this subject and is the shortest and weakest of all, the author offering little
more than a stylistic analysis of Newman’s preaching. Yet it was as a
preacher—and thereby also, in his particular case, as a theologian taking
much of his inspiration from the Church Fathers, a hard-headed and penetrating psychologist, and a spiritual guide—that Newman first made his mark
and continues to enrich the intellectual and spiritual life of Christians. Are we
to conclude that the themes of this preaching lie outside the scope of “theology” and are irrelevant to its concerns? The academic world has yet, it seems,
to take full account of this dimension of the man and his work.
Nevertheless, taking the book on its own terms, this remains an excellent
introduction and guide to Newman’s thought in the areas covered.
Oratoire de France,
Association française des Amis de Newman

KEITH BEAUMONT

Authority, Dogma, and History: The Role of Oxford Movement Converts in
the Papal Infallibility Debates of the Nineteenth Century, 1835–1875.
Edited by Kenneth L. Parker and Michael J. G. Pahls. (Palo Alto, CA:
Academica Press. 2008. Pp. 364. $79.95. ISBN 978-1-933-14644-7.)
The Oxford Movement (OM) started with John Keble’s Assize Sermon in
July 1833, protesting control of the Church of England by a parliament that
included members of other faiths and none. The OM quickly became an
attempt to recall Anglicans to an awareness of their Catholic roots—never
completely severed, OM’s members contended, despite the repudiation of
papal authority in the sixteenth century. The OM in its original form ended
some twelve years after it had begun, when its leading spokesman, John
Henry Newman, departed for what was, in the England of that day, a social and
ecclesial Siberia, by entering the Roman Catholic Church.
Keble’s broken-hearted but deeply affectionate letter to Newman said that
his beloved friend’s departure had produced in Keble “a feeling as if the
spring had been taken out of my year.”1 In his concise and accurate chapter
on the OM in this book, Benjamin O’Connor cites other less temperate reactions, ranging “from surprise to complete devastation.” “The sensation to us
was as of a sudden end of all things and without a new beginning,” wrote one.
Another expressed anger: “We felt we that had been betrayed, and we
resented the wrong which had been done to us” (p. 36).
1

Walter Lock, John Keble (Boston, 1893), p. 128.

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Although only two of the seven contributors to this book have experienced Anglicanism from the inside, all manifest remarkable understanding of
a form of Christianity seldom accessible to outsiders.The authors share three
assumptions: that the OM converts brought into their Catholic experience
preoccupations rooted in their efforts to reform Anglicanism; that their
shared concerns produced very different reasons for their conversions; and
that, despite their small numbers, they transformed and refashioned Catholic
theological discourse, particularly regarding papal authority.
The best known of Newman’s works, next to his Apologia pro vita sua, is
his Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine (1845), which was his
attempt to persuade himself that it was right, indeed imperative, to accept the
faith of the Catholic Church. Like his fellow OM members, Newman had taken
his stand on antiquity:“The early Church and its teachings were the paradigm
given by Christ himself, and it was the standard against which later forms of
Christianity should be judged” (p. 3).
In 1845 Newman’s contention that the faith once given to the apostles
could change, through development, rang alarm bells in both England and
Rome.Two decades later, Newman was surprised to find his Essay invoked to
justify Pope Pius IX’s definition, first, of Mary’s Immaculate Conception, in
1854, and then of papal infallibility in 1870.“Now at the end of twenty years,”
Newman wrote to a friend in 1871,“I am told from Rome that I am guilty of
the late Definition by my work on Development, so orthodox has it been
found in principle” (p. 77). Charles Michael Shea’s chapter in this book on
Newman’s development theory and the definition of papal infallibility is a
model of clarity, supported by Shea’s citation of sources in four languages.
Newman’s privately expressed distress at the methods used to force the
infallibility definition through the First Vatican Council is well known. After
the Council, however, he wrote a correspondent, “Pius [IX] has been overruled—I believe he wanted a much more stringent dogma than he has got”
(p. 210). Several contributors to this book make it clear that other Oxford
converts also desired a more sweeping definition. Cardinal Henry Manning
was one. After the Council, he wrote a pastoral letter claiming that the
Council had gone farther than it had. Newman’s fellow Oratorian Frederick W.
Faber went so far as to say in a published sermon that since Jesus and Mary
were no longer on earth the pope was “a third visible presence of Jesus
amongst us” (p. 166).
This collective work throws light on an ecclesial world of which most lifelong Catholics are scarcely aware and which few are able to understand. In so
doing, the authors show that it is a fascinating world—one that repays investigation and study.
Archdiocese of St. Louis

JOHN JAY HUGHES

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Cornelia Connelly’s Innovations in Female Education, 1846–1864:
Revolutionizing the School Curriculum for Girls. By Roseanne
McDougall. (Lewiston, NY: The Edwin Mellen Press. 2008. Pp.xviii, 262.
$109.95. ISBN 978-0-773-45187-2.)
Much has been written about Cornelia Connelly in recent years, and
Roseanne McDougall has drawn from this body of scholarship to highlight
some of the most important aspects of both the person and her context.The
result is a deeper study of Connelly’s philosophy of education in the light of
her own spiritual vision, and her struggles and successes in the ecclesial and
social circles of her day. McDougall deserves the gratitude of all of those interested in education in general and Catholic education in particular, since the
“innovations” in Connelly’s philosophy have much to say in the discussion
around this topic today.
In the excellent foreword Sharon Latchaw Hirsh notes that in the light of
Connelly’s legacy of a “solid education . . . the most important contribution of
this study must be its placement of such an education—ahead of its time and
still worthy of study today—in proper historical context” (p. xiv).
McDougall sets about providing this proper historical context, charting
the chronological sequence of Connelly’s life as a brilliant educator and a
deeply spiritual woman. The complex story of this early-nineteenth-century
Philadelphian—born Cornelia Peacock, wife of Pierce Connelly, mother of
five children, adult convert to Roman Catholicism, and later founder of the
Society of the Holy Child Jesus—is told with clarity of detail and great sensitivity. The result is a tapestry woven from the social, religious, educational,
geographical, and personal threads of Connelly’s life.
The work consists of an introduction and five chapters followed by a
detailed list of the sources consulted and a selected bibliography.The introduction provides important tools necessary to gain a better understanding of
Connelly’s life and legacy. There is a good biographical synopsis, a discussion
of the educational context, and a brief summary of her leadership in the field
of education. A “review of literature” includes primary and secondary
sources, educational studies, and bibliographies.There is literally nothing left
undocumented.
As the chapters unfold it is clear that Connelly’s passion for education in
the context of her spiritual journey is front and center. The story begins in
1846 with her arrival in Derby where, as McDougall notes:“There was a need
among England’s old Catholics, Oxford Catholics, and Irish Catholic immigrants, for a resurgence in Catholic-sponsored education. Connelly’s efforts
were part of this renewal in education” (p. 29). Bridging worlds such as these
continued to be one of the personal gifts that Connelly modeled in her life as
teacher, founder, and spiritual guide.A good overview of Connelly’s own education is provided as her distinctive methodology, early curricula, and schools’

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approach are explored in the light of developments in the history of English
education.
It is striking that in educational circles today, the discussion of respect for
the learner, the importance of education for children (and adults) from all
socioeconomic backgrounds, collaborative learning, and the importance of recognizing the spiritual needs of the learner are all found in the legacy of
Connelly. McDougall has contributed a fine piece for the continuing discussion.
Rosemont College (Emerita)

VIRGINIA KAIB RATIGAN

The Life and Work of Ottokár Prohászka (1858–1927). By Ferenc Szabó, S.J.
Translated by Attila Miklósházy, S.J. (Budapest: Szent István Társulat. 2007.
Pp. 459. Paperback. ISBN 978-9-638-01436-8.)
Bishop Ottokár Prohászka was a towering figure in the history of
Hungarian Catholicism, known (rather than Venerable Cardinal József
Mindszenty) as its most profound leader since Cardinal Peter Pázmány, the
leader of the Catholic Reformation. His funeral in Budapest was the largest
the city ever experienced, and on his grave in the western town of
Székesfehérvár, where he served as bishop since 1905, are inscribed the
words Apostolus et praeceptor Hungariae (apostle and teacher of Hungary).
He achieved his reputation through inspiring oratory, retreats, advocacy of
Christian democracy and the social gospel (he was the first Hungarian translator of Rerum novarum and helped organize three communities and one
political party), and prolific writing: his collected works (1928-9) run to
twenty-five volumes.
To Budapest theologian Ferenc Szabó, S.J., we owe the first substantial
biography in English, translated from the Hungarian edition.The Jesuit school
in Kalocsa provided the foundation for Prohászka’s vocation; then he studied
at the Collegium Germanicum et Hungaricum in Rome beginning in 1875.
Returning to the seat of the Hungarian primates in Esztergom after his ordination in 1881, he rose to spiritual director of the national seminary and
mentor of a generation of clergy beginning in 1890. It was during these years
that Prohászka entered the public arena as a writer and public speaker. His
appointment to the University of Budapest in 1903 brought him to the center
of national life, and he moved to his episcopal see two years later.
One of Szabó’s seminal achievements is to complement Prohászka’s wellknown public record with the examination of his inner life as documented by
his diaries (which have been supplemented recently), huge correspondence,
and the diaries of contemporaries. These sources leave no doubt that his
asceticism and mysticism helped determine his critical view of Hungarian
social structure, which was not shared by other members of the Hungarian
hierarchy.The author carefully addresses the difficult problem of antisemitism
in the bishop’s political writings. His condemnation of Jewish influence in

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society, he argues, must be understood in terms of his overriding concern
about secularization and the strong position of Jews in law, journalism, and
the socialist movement. Prohászka emphasized in the course of a public
debate that his daily celebration of the Eucharist precluded hatred of the Jews
as persons.
The Holy See placed three of Prohászka’s smaller works on the Index of
Prohibited Books in 1911. The author argues that the bishop was modern
(presaging the Second Vatican Council and Pope John Paul II in his view of
the laity and labor) but not a modernist. He examines in detail The Excesses
of Intellectualism, Prohászka’s inaugural address to the Hungarian Academy
in 1911, along with diary entries that give an ampler view of its theology than
the published text. This work focused the ire of his opponents, but was evidently just a pretext for their more political concerns. In this year of the beatification of Cardinal John Henry Newman, it is remarkable to read Prohászka’s
words recorded by one of his confidantes:“I have a high regard for Newman
. . . one of his great graces was that he lived at a good time. . . ” (p. 273).
Justice cannot be done here to the richness of this biography and the
wealth of primary sources it deploys, including two Latin translations of
Prohászka’s works, printed in the appendices, which the author procured
from Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger in 2001. It provides not only a fine introduction to the subject for readers of English but also an important advance over
previous contributions to the Prohászka literature in Hungary.
Rutgers University

JAMES P. NIESSEN, S.O.

Catholicism in Modern Italy: Religion, Society and Politics since 1861. By
John Pollard. [Christianity and Society in the Modern World.] (New York:
Routledge. 2008. Pp. viii, 247. $140.00. ISBN 978-0-415-23835-9.)
In his multidimensional study of Catholicism in Italy from the nineteenth
to the twenty-first century, John Pollard explores the impact of modernization on the Catholic Church. Contrasting official religious policy of the clergy
with the popular enthusiasms of the laity, he explores the creation of a selfconfident and durable Catholic subculture that served to insulate the faithful
from many of the challenges of modernization. Pollard offers a valuable
overview of modern Italian religious history.
Liberalism sought to curtail the influence of the Church in the early-nineteenth century by divesting it of much of its property. The movement for
Italian unification was a secular manifestation of this challenge that eventually succeeded in capturing Rome and removing the temporal power of the
papacy itself.The Church experienced a revival in the late-nineteenth century
because unification meant that an Italian national church could be created for
the first time under the leadership of the papacy.This led to the development
and definition of a Catholic subculture, uniting clergy and laity in popular

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religious celebration while addressing some of the more pressing social issues
of the times through the organization of credit unions, workingmen’s associations, and charitable and youth organizations.
This Catholic revival enabled the Church to assist with the impact of the
prima industrializzazione and to respond to the rise of socialism by entering clerico-moderate political alliances. During World War I, the clergy
achieved popular acclaim through their activities on behalf of the national
war effort, and, as a result, the Catholic political party Popolari was launched
in 1919 with the blessing of Pope Benedict XV.
Although this party received strong electoral support, it emerged at the
same time as the rise of fascism and, after 1922, became an impediment to
Pope Pius XI’s quest to resolve the Roman Question with the new Mussolini
government. The pope sacrificed the Popolari and sought to meet the challenge of fascism by protecting parts of the Catholic movement within the
nonpolitical organizations of Catholic Action. Because he did not challenge
the dictatorial tendencies of Mussolini, Pius XI was able to achieve a restoration of the temporal power, a financial settlement, and the protection of
Catholic Action in the 1929 Lateran Agreements.
During the fascist regime, the Church used Catholic Action as a vehicle for
training a postfascist leadership cadre. After 1945 the continuing institutional
power in Italy was that of the papacy under Pope Pius XII, just as Catholic
Action produced the future leaders of the Christian Democratic Party. The
Church and Christian Democracy together met the postwar challenge of communism in Italy, which, like the Church, had fashioned its own proletarian
subculture but was unable to gain power.
The “Economic Miracle” of the 1950s and 1960s brought a population shift
from south to north along with the American secular values of a consumer
society. Coupled with the changes of the Second Vatican Council, the Church
had to deal with a loss of membership, reduced numbers of clergy, and a
decline in support for the Christian Democrats. From the early 1960s, the
Christian Democrats sustained their electoral base by relying on support that
could be bought by judicious expenditure of state funds to develop new
political clients.
By the end of the 1980s, the corruption of the Christian Democrats was
evident and prompted the rise of the Northern League, dedicated to an end
to Roman corruption and the separation of the progressive north from the
retrograde south.The tangentopoli investigations resulted in the breakup of
the Christian Democrats in the 1994 elections.Although it proved impossible
to re-create one Catholic political party in the 1990s, the Catholic subculture
continued into the twenty-first century under the leadership of the papacy
and the Conference of Italian Bishops as the voice of the Catholic interest in
Italy. Pollard concludes that Catholicism managed to survive the modernizing

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challenges of liberalism, fascism, and communism largely because of its success in creating a self-confident, durable, and articulate subculture that none
of its challengers was able to achieve.
University of New Brunswick

PETER C. KENT

Wanderer zwischen den politischen Mächten: Pater Nikolaus von Lutterotti
O.S.B. (1892–1955) und die Abtei Grüssau in Niederschlesien. By Inge
Steinsträßer. [Forschungen und Quellen zur Kirchen- und Kulturgeschichte Ostdeutschlands, Band 41.] (Cologne: Böhlau Verlag. 2009. Pp.
xvi, 685. €64,90. ISBN 978-3-412-20429-7.)
In this revised dissertation, Inge Steinsträßer illustrates the tension
between Christian universalism and nationalism. During the tumultuous history of twentieth-century Central Europe, the Church, for Nikolaus von
Lutterotti, O.S.B., constituted the one constant identity in a world in which
national identities proved unstable.
The von Lutterotti family hailed from Kaltern, one of Tyrol’s southernmost
German-speaking towns, but identified itself as Austrian, even after Italy
gained South Tyrol. Nonetheless, the Lutterottis opted to accept Italian citizenship. By this time, Nikolaus had already joined the Benedictine Emmaus
Abbey in Prague. Because of the strident pan-Germanism of Abbot Alban
Schachleiter—who later became an ardent Nazi supporter—the monks were
forced to leave Prague.The war’s end transformed Lutterotti’s identity, both as
a Tyrolean and as a member of the Emaus community.
Monks from Emmaus established a new abbey at Grüssau in Silesia. With
few resources and great personal engagement, the monks restored the facilities, which had housed Cistercian monks until the secularization of the nineteenth century. In addition to Lutterotti’s pastoral and conventual responsibilities, he pursued archival studies, and published both popular and scholarly
art history articles relating to the abbey. Additionally, Lutterotti supervised the
restoration of the abbey.
The Nazi years proved difficult for the abbey, not only because of the
increasing antireligious repression. As Brigitte Lob already discussed in her
Albert Schmitt OSB—sein kirchenpolitisches Handeln in der Weimarer
Republik und im Dritten Reich (Köln, 2000), Schmitt, the abbot of Grüssau,
initially shared the enthusiasm of his brother abbots Ildefons Herwegen at
Maria Laach and Schachleiter for the new regime. Although never as ardent
or prominent as Schachleiter, Schmitt also did not share Herwegen’s eventual
realization of the regime’s nature. While Steinsträßer could have developed
Lutterotti’s views further, she judiciously analyzes the sparse evidence to
show that Lutterotti rejected the abbot’s political views. Lutterotti’s rejection
of the Nazis led him to withdraw an application for German citizenship. In

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postwar homilies, Lutterotti placed blame for his flock’s suffering squarely on
the Nazi regime and its supporters.
In 1944–46, the abbey served as transit point for refugees fleeing the
Soviet forces. In the following years, Lutterotti made his greatest sacrifice.
Even after the expulsion of most of the Benedictines in 1946, he served the
dwindling ethnic German community. Lutterotti’s national identity proved
complicated. By conviction an Austrian and by citizenship Italian, Lutterotti
was considered a member of the German community by both the Polish government and the Polish church hierarchy. In fact, church authorities proved
more antipathetic than secular authorities. Although Lutterotti accepted the
Polish secret police’s methods as a continuation of Gestapo repression, the
suspicion of the remaining German clergy by the archiepiscopal hierarchy
proved too much to bear when apostolic administrator Kazimierz Lagosz collaborated with the communist authorities to plunder the Grüssau abbey.
Nonetheless, Lutterotti hiked hours each weekend to minister to his small,
far-flung flock. Eventually, however, his health and police threats led Lutterotti
to seek the help of the Italian embassy in Warsaw to secure his exit. In 1954
Lutterotti left Silesia and, by way of Rome, returned to Kaltern to recover.
Finally, he rejoined his Benedictine community, which had established a new
abbey at Wimpfen in Hessen. Lutterotti’s health failed to improve, and he died
less than a year later.
The significance of Lutterotti’s life is that, although he considered himself
Austrian, he refused to let nationality and ethnicity interfere with Christian
humanity, even in the worst of times. Perhaps the best example of the
Benedictine’s relationship to ethnicity was his ability and willingness to cooperate with Polish clergy and the close relationship established with the Polish
Benedictine Abbey at Tyniec, under whose protection Lutterotti placed the
Grüssau abbey.
At times, Steinsträßer’s admiration for Lutterotti threatens to impede scholarly judgment, as, for example, when she relies too heavily on family remembrances and letters to characterize his youth. Similarly, she is very kind in her
judgment of the weak resistance of Cardinal Adolf Bertram, archbishop of
Breslau, to the Nazis. Nonetheless, this work encourages reflection on the
Church in the twentieth-century nationalist tug of war by offering another
example of an individual in the context of the great conflicts of his time.
Lutterotti’s life constitutes one of the best responses to that conflict.
Rivier College, NH

MARTIN R. MENKE

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Paolo VI “uomo spirituale”: Discorsi e scritti (1983–2008). By Carlo Maria
Martini. Edited by Marco Vergottini. [Quaderni dell’Istituto, no. 27.]
(Brescia: Istituto Paolo VI–Studium. 2008. Pp. xii, 191. €25,00. ISBN 978-8838-24077-5.)
Sometimes a book tells much not just about its subject but also about its
author. This is certainly the case for this book, which collects speeches and
writings of Cardinal Carlo Maria Martini, S.J., who served as the archbishop of
Milan from 1980 to 2002. It offers Martini’s opinions on his predecessor,
Giovanni Battista Montini, later Pope Paul VI (1963–78). In this collection of
Martini’s brief speeches and reflections (delivered or written between 1983
and 2008), the reader can appreciate Martini’s perspective while gaining an
understanding of Montini’s role in the twentieth-century Catholic Church and
his “synodal style”; the importance of the relationship between “faith and culture” in Paul VI’s teaching; and Paul VI’s contribution to the Second Vatican
Council, including his role in developing the doctrine of episcopal collegiality.
The volume is worthy of attention for at least two reasons.The collection
shows the central role of Montini—first as a monsignor in Rome (1925–54),
then as archbishop in Milan (1954–63), and finally as pope—in shaping a crucial time in the history of the Church that spanned the pontificate of Pius XI,
World War II, the Second Vatican Council, and the Council’s aftermath. The
fact that his pontificate and his emphasis on the term dialogue seems to be
somehow neglected today casts a light on the dire need for serious biographical and thematic studies—so far emblematically lacking—on such a significant figure for the history of the Catholic Church.
The texts in this volume also reflect Martini’s personal response to
Montini, since he defined the latter as a “uomo spirituale” (spiritual man),
“uomo di chiesa” (man of the Church), “uomo del concilio” (man of the
Council), and “uomo della luce” (man of light, pp. vi–xi). It is not too much to
say that the way Martini approaches Montini is very telling of Martini’s attitude toward the episcopal ministry and the Second Vatican Council.This collection whets the appetite of the reader for a biographical work on Martini,
without a doubt the most important diocesan bishop for Italian Catholicism
after the Second Vatican Council.
University of St. Thomas

MASSIMO FAGGIOLI

Le moine, le prêtre et le général. Les frères Lalande ou le dépassement de
soi. By Jean-Pierre Guérend. [L’histoire à vif.] (Paris: Éditions du Cerf. 2008.
Pp.170. €17,00 paperback. ISBN 978-2-204-08604-2.)
At the beginning of June 1940, a seriously wounded French army officer,
Captain André Lalande, was carried aboard the last transport ship leaving
Narvik in northern Norway, where Allied troops had engaged the Wehrmacht
since April. Now the German invasion of France itself demanded the evacua-

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tion of the expeditionary force and the redeployment of those soldiers still
able to fight. Lalande would not participate in the ensuing French debacle, but
both of his brothers would survive the defeat only to be taken prisoner by the
Germans. These two brothers, imprisoned in the Reich until 1945, were not
themselves professional military men like André. Bernard was a Catholic
priest, and Jacques was a Benedictine monk.
Jean-Pierre Guérend, an intimate of one of the Lalande brothers, offers the
“trois portraits croisées” (p. 152) of a monk, a priest, and a general to illustrate how three devout French Catholics helped shape the postwar world.
According to Guérend, the parents of the Lalande brothers instilled in their
three sons (who also had five sisters) a common Catholic faith and call to
service. In different ways, the author insists, each brother found his vocation
in a form of self-sacrifice. Guérend introduces Antoine Lalande, their father, as
both friend and follower of Marc Sangnier, the founder of the early-twentiethcentury Christian democratic Sillon movement and a fellow native of the
Corrèze. Their mother, the former Marie-Thérèse Gaume, numbered a Jesuit
and three nuns among her siblings.Apparently, she did not desire a monastic,
priestly, or military vocation for her sons.
Maternal wishes aside, Bernard entered the seminary at Issy-lesMoulineaux in 1928; Jacques (the eldest) presented himself at the
Benedictine monastery of Saint-Maurice de Clervaux in Luxembourg in 1929,
and André (the youngest) won acceptance to Saint-Cyr, the French military
academy, in 1931. While his brothers pursued a wartime apostolate in the
Stalag,André recovered from his 1940 wounds and fought alongside the Free
French at the 1941 desert battle of Bir Hakeim.As a colonel, he became a prisoner of the Viet Minh after the 1954 surrender at Dien Bien Phu and subsequently played an uncomfortable role in the counterinsurgency in Algeria.
This youngest of the Lalande brothers finished his career as President Charles
de Gaulle’s chief military adviser between 1967 and 1969.
The contemplative Jacques’s life did not unfold in total isolation from the
world. After the war, he helped transform the Clervaux monastery into an
international meeting place for youth connected with the burgeoning Pax
Christi movement. He also took temporary leave of his Benedictine brothers
to study psychology in his native land and serve as a chaplain to delinquent
youths. Bernard, a recipient of the Legion of Honor like André, played a more
lasting and significant role in the Catholic peace movement, assuming a leading role in Pax Christi and serving as personal secretary to two successive
postwar archbishops of Paris, Cardinals Emmanuel Célestin Suhard and
Maurice Feltin. He also participated as a theological expert at the Second
Vatican Council, publishing an acclaimed commentary on Pope John XXIII’s
encyclical Pacem in terris. In the autumn of his career in the 1970s, he relocated to Rome to devote himself to his work on the Pontifical Council for
Justice and Peace.

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The author worked closely with Bernard in Pax Christi; of the three brothers, this one receives the most revealing portrayal, showing how he contended at various times with both the reticence of his clerical superiors and
the radical temptations of the international peace movement. Guérend’s
depiction of Bernard and his brothers is more one of warm admiration than
critical, scholarly detachment, although it makes abundant use of family correspondence and author interviews. Le moine, le prêtre et le général makes
for an engaging story of three inimitable yet exemplary brothers who
embodied vital traditions within French Catholicism as it entered the post1945 world.
Greensboro College, NC

RICHARD FRANCIS CRANE

Giuseppe Dossetti: La fede e la storia. Studi nel decennale della morte.
Edited by Alberto Melloni. [Istituto per le scienze religiose–Bologna. Testi
e richerche di scienze religiose, Nuova serie, 39.] (Bologna: Società editrice
il Mulino. 2007. Pp. 415. €29,00 paperback. ISBN 978-8-815-12069-4.)
This book presents the fruit of meetings held in 2006, the tenth anniversary of Giuseppe Dossetti’s death. Bologna’s respected Fondazione per le
scienze religiose Giovanni XXIII, which he launched, hosted the conferences.
Dossetti (1913–96) was a key figure in postwar Italian Catholic politics and
might be considered a founding father of the republic.The product of Milan’s
Catholic University, he eventually taught there, acquiring a reputation as a
progressive and as one of the professorini (“little professors”), a like-minded
group that included Giuseppe Lazzati (who became the rector of the university), Giorgio LaPira (the mayor of Florence), and Amintore Fanfani (Italy’s fivetime prime minister). During World War II, Dossetti stood among the most
important Catholics in the antifascist resistance, and he then worked as one
of the key Christian Democrats (of the Democrazia Cristiana, or DC) who
drafted Italy’s new constitution. His views on land reform and opposition to
adherence to NATO, however, led to a rift with the DC leadership, beginning
with Alcide DeGasperi and extending, as Paolo Pombeni notes in his chapter,
to rather nasty polemics with Giulio Andreotti.These fights ended his status
in the party by the early 1950s. Still, in 1956 he was persuaded to run in what
turned out to be an unsuccessful campaign to unseat Bologna’s popular communist mayor, Giuseppe Dozza. Dossetti “retired” from politics and entered
the priesthood, serving at the Second Vatican Council and establishing a religious community in the Middle East.
Dossetti was a figure who collected groups of passionate followers and
bitter enemies, and, although this book displays an admirable scholarship, the
contributors clearly identify themselves more with the former than with the
latter. Many of them, such as Romano and Paolo Prodi, knew him well.
Romano, the former prime minister, begins the work with a remembrance,
and his brother adds an essay on “Law and History” in Dossetti’s thought and
works.As editor,Alberto Melloni grouped that essay and the others into three

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sections: nodi (cruxes), tappe (stages), and frammenti (fragments). The
pieces are somewhat scattered, and the whole work should not be considered
a comprehensive study of Dossetti’s life. The Resistance and the constituent
debates, for instance, receive much attention, while less is accorded to the
arguments over NATO.
As ably portrayed in these chapters, however, Dossetti’s life evokes feelings
of both hope and the tragedy of lost opportunities. Giuseppe Ruggieri’s piece
on Dossetti’s “Christian life,” for example, emphasizes the weight of community in his thinking, a concept also present in Giancarlo Mori’s discussion of
his anxiety that Italy not be split into clerical and anticlerical camps.
Community, rather, clearly determined his hopes for Catholic participation in
the Resistance. But that struggle posed difficult choices for many of the faithful; not all of whom rallied to the cause as he did. Dossetti’s work at the
Constituent Assembly also illustrates these themes. In his study on “The
Defense and Development of the Constitution,” Umberto Allegretti writes that
Dossetti considered the document “an ethical-philosophical reality, a great
juridical-political foundation, (and) the fruit of a historical event” (p. 145). His
effort to include an article on the right and duty of citizens to resist unjust
rulers, however, was ill fated. Nevertheless, Dossetti always defended the finished product, and, when the whole Italian system appeared to unravel in the
1990s, he surfaced to defend it. Allegretti presents, finally, an image that
cannot fail to make an impression on any reader. During his last illness in midDecember 1996, Giuseppe Dossetti, semi-paralyzed, continued to work from
his hospital bed to save the constitution. In that last fight, at least, he ended
on the winning side.
The University of Scranton

ROY DOMENICO

Rome’s Most Faithful Daughter: The Catholic Church and Independent
Poland, 1914–1939. By Neal Pease. (Athens: Ohio University Press. 2009.
Pp. xxiv, 288. $49.95 cloth; $26.95 paperback. ISBN 978-0-821-41855-0
cloth; 978-0-821-41856-7 paperback.)
Despite the centrality of the Church in Poland’s troubled past and the fact
that Poland is the only European country where Catholicism retains a prominent position in public life, there is surprisingly little scholarship dealing with
the history of Catholicism along the Vistula. Neal Pease’s new book is the first
to explore the relationship between the Holy See and Poland during the first
half of the twentieth century, but it would sell the book short to praise it just
because it filled an empty spot in the historiography. Rome’s Most Faithful
Daughter is elegantly written, scrupulously researched, and persuasively
argued. Above all, it manages to strike a rare balance while dealing with a
topic that is replete with polemical landmines.
The title of the book is ironic, because Pease’s primary contention is that
interwar Poland and the Holy See had a far more troubled relationship than is

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usually assumed. Contrary to the image of Poland as a homogeneously
Catholic country that could be counted on to support the Holy See’s goals
and ideals, the position of the Church in pre-World War II Poland was actually
quite ambiguous.As Pease points out, the educated elites of Poland were subjected to the same secularizing trends seen elsewhere in Europe, so by the
time the country was restored to the map of Europe in 1918, a large segment
of the political leadership was ambivalent about Catholicism, if not downright
anticlerical. Józef Pilsudski, a cofounder of the Polish Socialist Party and by
the 1920s a leading advocate for what would be called multiculturalism today,
dominated the state.When Pilsudski led a military coup to prevent the right
from taking power in 1926, the regime and the Church seemed headed for a
showdown. The stage was therefore set for a great deal of church-state tension, particularly when the country’s new constitution enshrined a range of
liberal civil rights rather than setting up Catholicism as the official state religion. Given the ethnic and religious diversity of pre-World War II Poland,
argues Pease,“the vision of a Catholic Poland could not serve as the unifying
principle of the Second Republic, as widely assumed; on the contrary, perhaps
no other theme held such power to polarize the country or set its various
peoples and constituencies at odds” (p. 5).
But a full-blown confrontation never surfaced, and Pease helps us understand why. Based on both Vatican and Polish sources, he demonstrates that the
interventions of Pipe Pius XI succeeded in moderating the Polish clergy’s tendency to slide toward the far right. Monsignor Achille Ratti spent 1918–19 as
nuncio in Poland, and during this time he befriended and grew to trust
Pilsudski. When Ratti was elevated to the papacy, he used his authority to
push aside the most politicized and ideologically extreme bishops, while
establishing good official relations with the Polish government. This did not
eliminate tensions on the ground in Warsaw, but it ensured that they would
never get out of hand.
Pease offers little comfort to those who would deny the political extremism of many in the interwar Church, but neither does he support the arguments of those who see the Holy See as a mere auxiliary for the radical right.
He is both frank and thorough in examining the antisemitism that pervaded
the interwar Church, and he shows how prejudice against Eastern Rite
Catholics scuttled Vatican efforts to strengthen the Church among Ukrainians
and Belarusians. On the other hand, he approaches his topic with sympathy
rather than demonization, leaving us with a picture that is both nuanced and
insightful. This book will offer revelations even for specialists in Polish history, but its audience should extend far beyond that subfield to encompass
anyone interested in the history of Catholicism in modern Europe.
University of Michigan

BRIAN PORTER-SZU⬙CS

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Catholicism and the Roots of Nazism: Religious Identity and National
Socialism. By Derek Hastings. (New York: Oxford University Press. 2010.
Pp. xviii, 290. $29.95. ISBN 978-0-195-39024-7.)
Derek Hastings carefully analyzes how the totalistic, secularizing messianism that was portrayed during the Third Reich had a fascinating prehistory in
Catholic Munich, which the Nazis tried to obliterate as they achieved control
of Germany from 1933 to 1945. Between 1919 and 1923 Catholics in Munich
played a decisive role in the development of antisemitic Nazism. Following
the Beerhall Putsch (1923), the nature and composition of the Nazi movement abruptly changed into an anti-Catholic phase. In its Catholic phase, however, the party was able to develop political momentum and to transcend its
marginalization as merely a rightist, radical, propagandistic association. This
book also delineates how the Nazi movement developed a different trajectory
after the Putsch that led to a political religion—one that left little room for
the more doctrinaire Catholic orientation present at the party’s inception and
early years.
The historical gap filled by Hastings is to provide a monographic study of
the local roots of Nazism rather than a focus on its ideological roots and lateWeimar voting patterns. Revealing the Nazi party’s early Munich years is a significant accomplishment, since it can help explain some of the adaptation
dynamics used by Catholics after 1933. This authoritative monograph has
incorporated archival and printed sources to show how the Nazi movement
and Catholic identity were intertwined in Bavaria. The documents illustrate
the roles of individual Catholics and do not concentrate on the Church as an
institution. Hastings’s study provides the background that can help scholars
analyze the pro-Nazi priests who countered the somewhat ambivalent antiNazi ethos of the institutional Church.
His book also reveals the negative connection between the Nazis and
Reform Catholicism that eventually helped nourish the renewal launched in
the Second Vatican Council, since Hitler disconnected the party from the
Church and so made space for a communio ecclesiology to emerge after
1945. Hastings’s story is nuanced as he traces the early Catholic influence that
evaporated after 1923 into a movement with a more Protestant and neopagan veneer. Pre-1923 Catholics in Munich differed from the broader
Catholic milieu, since in Bavaria there developed an opposition to ultramontanism and to political Catholicism. To add to the complexities, in southern
Germany a Catholic could also mix identities and so could be a Social
Democrat and a Nazi, since boundaries were more permeable.
Chapter 1 outlines how a nationalistic brand of religious Catholicism took
root in the early-twentieth century. Chapter 2 sketches out the interaction
between the antisemitic responses to the chaotic Weimar conditions that
characterized the early Nazi and Catholic circles. Chapters 3 and 4 trace the
birth of the Catholic-Nazi synthesis and explicate the Nazi drives that targeted

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Catholics to gain their support. Chapter 5 shows what led the Nazis to split
from Catholicism as Hitler tried to imitate Mussolini and to link his movement
with nationalist organizations such as that led by Erich Ludendorff.
Hastings’s book handles the complexities that shaped the early Nazi Party
history with a very sensitive attention to the interaction between Nazi and
Catholic interests. Munich Catholics were striving to achieve a legitimate
Catholic identity by helping to spread early Nazism, but Hitler’s own messianic ambition destroyed the link between Catholicism and Nazism. This
study nicely explores the gray areas of the political and religious nexus that
nurtured the formative years of Nazism and poses some legitimate questions
concerning its theological dynamics that scholars of the Catholic Church in
Nazi Germany will have to answer.
Boston College

DONALD J. DIETRICH

“Heil Hitler”—Pastoral bedingt: Vom Politischen Katholizismus zum
Pastoralkatholizismus. By Maximilian Liebmann. (Vienna: Böhlau Verlag.
2009. Pp. 179. €29,90. ISBN 978-3-205-78412-8.)
In “Heil Hitler,” Maximilian Liebmann presents what he understands to be
the single motivational framework for how the Austrian Catholic Church
responded to National Socialism. He is responding to historians who he
believes have offered “reproachful criticism of the behavior of our bishops”
under National Socialism (p. 11). Identifying the framework as “pastoral
Catholicism” or the “pastoral doctrine,” Liebmann finds its origins in St. Paul’s
Letter to the Romans 13:1–2, which emphasizes obedience to governing
authorities as a divine command. From the establishment of Austrian fascism
in 1933 under Chancellor Engelbert Dollfuß, Liebmann argues that the
church hierarchy separated itself from the political realm and devoted its
energies to promoting and safeguarding its pastoral mission to the Catholic
faithful. Only in the postwar period, as the Church gradually moved to the
Second Vatican Council, did its members reclaim a significant role in political
life. This reclamation, however, influenced and shaped by the lived experiences under National Socialism, emphasized the ethical and moral voice of
the Church in state and society.
Pastoral Catholicism developed as a response to an unchecked political
Catholicism that grew from the late-1860s Austrian Kulturkampf that, unlike
its German counterpart, centered on a clash between traditional church-state
cooperation and a growing secular-liberal influence in Austrian politics and
society. To counter this development, the Church nurtured the growth of
associational life, rife with political overtones and lay leadership. Clergy, too,
participated; as Liebmann writes,“The Sunday sermons at the expense of the
Gospel . . . were often so apologetically and party-politically overloaded that
one can and must speak of a real misuse of the Mass” (p. 29). This situation
changed in 1933 with the onset of Austrian fascism under Dollfuß, who sup-

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pressed democratic-party politics and guaranteed the religious interests of
the Church. In June 1933, the chancellor ensured this latter fact by signing a
Concordat with the Holy See. No longer was church associational life necessary to ensure religious interests in the corporative state. In November 1933,
the Austrian bishops attested to this fact by depoliticizing the clergy and
removing them from politics, although they did continue to receive appointments to Federal Councils.Thus a paradigm shift took place in ecclesial-state
life whereby the primary focus of the Church moved from party-political to
pastoral-doctrinal concerns. No longer did political chambers or associational
meeting halls dominate, but instead the parish became central to championing Catholic pastoral concerns. Leading this shift were two priests and theologians, Michael Pfliegler and Karl Rudolf, the latter the founder of the
Vienna Pastoral Institute.
Pfliegler and Rudolf worked tirelessly to promote the pastoral doctrine.
They placed great emphasis on a hierarchical leadership principle that was
authoritarian. Supported by the Austrian hierarchy, especially Cardinal
Theodor Innitzer, the archbishop of Vienna, they endeavored to incorporate
all church associations into or put them directly under the all-encompassing
Catholic Action movement that promoted lay participation in the Church’s
pastoral mission—all of which were directly under episcopal and clerical
leadership. Rudolf even traveled to Italy to study how Catholic Action there
had been influenced by Italian fascism.The portrait of this pastoral movement
in the Church allows the reader to conclude that the Austrian Catholic
Church was well “prepared” for the onslaught of National Socialism and its
policy of Gleichschaltung. Those associations, such as the Cartel Federation
of Catholic Student Associations, which did not comply, were excluded from
recognition in official church publications.
Liebmann attributes the March 18, 1938, “Solemn Declaration” of the
Austrian bishops and Innitzer’s cover letter to Gauleiter Josef Bürckel following the Anschluss—both of which were welcoming and supportive of
National Socialism—as strict adherence to the pastoral doctrine. On this
point, Liebmann makes great effort to counter the more critical interpretation
of Stefan Mortiz in Grüß Gott and Heil Hitler: Catholic Church and National
Socialism in Austria (Vienna, 2002). In his analysis, however, Liebmann is
much too narrow and neglects other factors such as nationalism, antibolshevism, antiliberalism, and antisemitism that might have influenced the hierarchy’s positive stance toward National Socialism. Similarly, Liebmann only fleetingly mentions Rome’s displeasure with the “Solemn Declaration” and the
extraordinary steps taken by the Holy See, including the publication of a critical article in Osservatore Romano and a program of similar condemnatory
tone on Vatican radio, to counteract the Austrian episcopacy’s actions.
Liebmann also attributes to the pastoral doctrine the response of the bishops toward Jewish persecution and general resistance to the state. It was as
if the pastoral doctrine called for silence. Regarding Johannes Ude, a priest

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who spoke out for Jews in a letter to the Steiermark Gauleiter, Liebmann
states that Ude “did not align himself with the pastoral doctrine” (p. 97).
Thus, Liebmann concludes, individuals who resisted the state’s policies
placed themselves outside or beyond the pastoral doctrine. Such conclusions
seem superficial. At the same time, Liebmann also fails to mention Father
Michael Pfliegler’s The Living Christian before the Actual World (Vienna,
1937), in which he reminded Christians of their vocation to live out their
baptismal call by practicing good works for lapsed Christians and for nonChristians alike. In 1938, the editors of the Berlin diocesan newspaper, for
example, pointed to Pfliegler’s work under the heading “Responsibility of
Christians for Non-Christians.” According to Liebmann, Pfliegler was a
staunch proponent of the pastoral doctrine. But how is Pfliegler’s book a
part of the pastoral doctrine?
Liebmann offers a means of interpreting the Austrian Church’s actions
under National Socialism. Nevertheless, the analysis is myopic and lacks
nuance. At times, it is even deceiving. For example, in his discussion of the
clergy’s response to the “Solemn Declaration,” he includes the “Working
Group for Religious Peace,” a clerical organization formed to promote harmony between the Catholic Church and National Socialism, which, with the
help of local Nazi officials, promoted clergy support of the “Solemn
Declaration.” Although Liebmann cites Josef Lettl’s fine study of this group,
nowhere does he mention the outright support of many members of this
group for National Socialism’s racial teaching. Such support cannot be attributed solely to a “pastoral doctrine.” Had Liebmann read recent works on this
topic in English he would have been aware of this fact. Unfortunately,
Liebmann’s citations offer no evidence that he consulted works other than
those in German or even those outside the narrow field of Austrian church
history. At the same time, Liebmann fills his work with direct quotes from secondary sources, which, at times, compose whole sections of the book.
Ultimately, then, one must conclude that this concise study deserves a lengthier book—one in which the author can more fully explore the themes raised.
Such a study would compel the author to nuance and develop his arguments
more objectively to encompass the wider ramifications of pastoral concerns
that Austrian Catholic Church faced under National Socialism.
Stonehill College, MA

KEVIN P. SPICER, C.S.C.

Les agendas conciliaires de Mgr J. Willebrands, secrétaire du Secrétariat
pour l’Unité des chrétiens. Translated into French by Leo Declerck.
[Instrumenta Theologica, XXXI.] (Leuven: Maurits Sabbebibliotheek,
Faculteit Godgeleerdheid, and Peeters. 2009. Pp. xl, 284. €38,00 paperback.
ISBN 978-9-042-92217-4.)
The role of the Secretariat for Christian Unity at the Second Vatican
Council, notwithstanding the fact that it was a small and new organism cre-

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ated only at the start of the Council’s preparatory period on June 5, 1960, was
one of considerable importance.The influence it exercised is owed largely to
the competence and activities of its secretary, Monsignor (later Cardinal)
Johannes Willebrands from the Netherlands (1909–2006). Willebrands, familiar with ecumenical matters because of his roles as president of the Dutch St.
Willibrord Association and secretary of the Catholic Conference for
Ecumenical Questions, played a key role in the redaction of draft texts that
resulted into several Council documents (Unitatis redintegratio, Nostra
aetate, Dignitatis humanae, Dei Verbum) still considered as landmark documents of the Second Vatican Council, particularly those regarded as the
Council’s most innovative products.The current publication of Willebrands’s
conciliar agendas offers important information regarding the redaction of
these very schemata. Certainly, on many occasions the agendas contain no
more than sparse and cryptic notes, offering readers merely some factual
insight into the secretary’s daily activities: his encounters, contacts, and many
meetings. Yet there are important details regarding dates, meeting participants, and so forth, providing testimony to the ecumenical work done on a
daily basis.
The book features the elaborate array of contacts that Willebrands maintained, including the World Council of Churches at Geneva; oriental churches,
particularly the patriarchates of Constantinople and Jerusalem; Orthodox
churches behind the Iron Curtain; La Petite Église; and non-Catholic
observers, particularly the Anglican and Methodist representatives at the
Council. Willebrands’s efforts to develop and nourish these contacts were
nothing short of impressive. They also led him to undertake journey after
journey to the United States, France, Germany, Switzerland, England, and other
countries to draft a manifold of reports. In the intervening periods
Willebrands constantly received guests in Rome and invited them for a meal,
welcoming them with his ready hospitality, courtesy, and ability to listen and
understand.
Ecumenism in action involved coordinating the secretariat’s activities,
including those concerning the General Secretariat, the Coordinating
Commission, and other commissions that were drafting documents.
Willebrands’s diplomatic skills also were in demand, as he interacted with the
pope; Cardinal Amleto Cicognani, the papal secretary of state; and Bishop
Carlo Colombo, the pope’s private theologian, as well as their staff members.
Organizing the secretariat’s work also required attentiveness to sensitivities
from both the right and the left wings. On occasion, these agendas demonstrate how a healthy amount of vigilance was needed with the press and political issues that might have repercussions for the conciliar debate. Moreover,
Willebrands’s function involved constant planning, maintaining a realistic calendar, and ensuring that the work evolved well. Documents needed to be prepared, and correspondence with the leading organs of the Council appraised
accurately.

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Everyday ecumenism also implied caring for the well-being of dozens of
non-Catholic observers or delegates at the Second Vatican Council, drafting an
Ecumenical Directory, and undertaking first steps toward further ecumenical
dialogues in the postconciliar era.
In sum, these richly annotated agendas constitute an essential document
in comprehending the Council’s complexity and the considerable amount of
work carried out by those occupying a central role in it—those who cared to
bring the drafting of the schemata, often dealing with delicate topics that no
previous ecumenical council had touched, to a fruitful close.
Université Laval

GILLES ROUTHIER

Kirche und Revolution. Das Christentum in Ostmitteleuropa vor und nach
1989. Edited by Hans-Joachim Veen, Peter März, and Franz-Josef
Schlichting. [Europäische Diktaturen und ihre Überwindung. Schriften der
Stiftung Ettersberg,Vol. 14.] (Cologne: Böhlau Verlag. 2009. Pp. 241. €19,90.
ISBN 978-3-412-20403-7.)
The Ettersberg Foundation (Stiftung Ettersberg) in Weimar, Germany, is
devoted to the comparative study of European dictatorships, organizing international scholarly symposia and producing publications. The Seventh
International Symposium, held in October 2008, hosted participants from
central and eastern Europe.The symposium addressed the role of the Church
in the democratic transformations of central and eastern Europe since the
1980s, examining the relationship among church, state, and democracy before
and after the change of political regimes. The ensuing publication includes
contributions arranged in three sections.
The first set of contributions offers a detailed look at the churches’
involvement in political change in three countries. It discusses the extent to
which the churches harmonized with the communist government—if they
became “a church in socialism” (Kirche im Sozialismus) and thus a factor in
communist government structures, offered shelter to opposition groups,
and/or reflected national interests. Regarding the German Democratic
Republic, Richard Schröder examines the role of the Evangelical Church,
Ehrhart Neubert presents the impact of the churches on the revolutionary
changes of 1989–90, and Franz-Josef Schlichting analyzes the place of the
small Catholic community in Eichsfeld. Dirk Lenschen discusses the attitude
of the Catholic Church, socialism, and the transformation in Poland; while
Thomas Bremer studies the relationship between the Orthodox Church and
the Soviet regime. Peter Maser states that the German Protestants have never
generated any revolution. Klaus Ziemer provides a detailed account of the
role of the Catholic Church in the changes in Poland in 1988 and 1990, Miklós
Tomka addresses the Church’s impact in Hungary between 1988 and 1990,
Tomás Halik discusses the Church and the Czech Republic in 1989, and
Konstantin Kostjuk studies the Church in Russia between 1988 and 1991.

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In the second section, the writers discuss the questions of religious shifts and
increased interest in religion in the postcommunist countries of central and
eastern Europe. Presented are models of relations between state and church
throughout history (Hans Maier), changes in the position and role of religion
in postcommunist countries (Detlef Pollack), Christian values as the foundation of European identity (Henryk Józef Muszyński), and the position of religion and Church in the Orthodox part of Europe (Inna Naletova).
Finally, Axel Noack, Edelbert Richter, and Tomka raise a troubling issue—
namely, whether Europe continues to remain Christian.The question is justified because of the deliberate efforts by the communist regimes to obliterate
the Christian character of their countries, as well as the increasing number of
European communities that belong to a Muslim religious tradition.
A bonus is the transcription of the symposium’s plenary session, in which
participants provide further insights.
Kirche und Revolution can be regarded as a fundamental work that raises
many questions, offers a method of work, demonstrates originality in its comparative approach, and challenges historians and sociologists to perform even
more assiduous work on the place of churches in the postcommunist
European states.
University of Ljubljana, Slovenia

BOGDAN KOLAR

American
Almighty God Created the Races: Christianity, Interracial Marriage, &
American Law. By Fay Botham. (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina
Press. 2008. Pp. xvi, 271. $35.00. ISBN 978-0-807-83318-6.)
In Almighty God Created the Race: Christianity, Interracial Marriage, &
American Law, Fay Botham, adjunct professor in the Department of Religious
Studies at the University of Iowa, focuses on a rarely examined issue in
American race matters: the intersection of religion, law, and interracial marriage. To what extent did Protestant or Catholic understanding of marriage
influence secular law regarding this institution? In particular, how did the
Catholic understanding of marriage as a sacrament and the Protestant notion
that marriage was sacred but a state matter influence judicial decision
making? Furthermore, what are the proper roles of the church and state in
establishing marriage laws in this country?
Divided into six chapters, Almighty God begins with an examination of
the 1948 California-based case Perez v. Lippold, which outlawed religious discrimination in marriage.The deciding vote in the state of California’s Supreme
Court decision was cast by a Christian Science jurist who agreed with the
plaintiff’s argument that antimiscegenation laws violated religious liberties.
With the Perez case as a starting point, Botham then proceeds to examine the

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development of American marriage laws; the difference between Protestant
and Catholic understandings of the institution of marriage; the theology of
race; the Protestant influence on antimiscegenation law; and, finally, Southern
Catholics’attitudes on race and marriage with analysis of the U.S. Supreme
Court decision Loving v. Virginia decision (1967), which outlawed racebased nuptials. Hers is an ambitious and wide-ranging investigation of
American race-based marital attitudes and laws using primary source material
as diverse as papal encyclicals, court decisions, clerical sermons and writings,
secular newspapers, and religious journals as well as Holy Scripture.
Botham’s research convincingly proves that a biblical understanding of the
separation of the races informed American antimiscegenation laws from colonial times into the twentieth century. Her examination of the influence of
religion in repealing such laws, however, is less convincing; an exception
being the Perez case. As Botham herself notes regarding the all-important
Loving decision,“. . . the real legal issue [in Loving] was whether or not antimiscegenation laws violated the due process and equal protection clauses of
the Fourteenth Amendment” (p. 174). An amicus curiae brief, submitted to
the court by Southern members of the American Roman Catholic hierarchy
on behalf of the Lovings,“went virtually unnoticed by the attorneys and the
justices in the case. . .” (p. 174). Religion separated the races; the law would
allow them to live together.
Almighty God leaves readers wanting more, given the brevity of the manuscript for such a complex and controversial issue.The struggle for racial civil
rights was obviously more complex and nuanced than what is presented
here—there is no examination of Catholic and Protestant efforts to end Jim
Crow laws, which would contextualize the religious impulse and influence
on the modern civil rights movement. Nevertheless, Botham’s work forces
readers to come to terms with their religious value system, their
Constitutional understandings of religious freedom, and their racial attitudes.
Whether one believes marriage is a sacred institution established by Christ to
impart grace, a God-inspired relationship between a man and a woman, or a
state-controlled partnership that governs property and inheritance rights, the
country’s understanding of marriage as an American institution is in flux.
Almighty God is contextual scholarship for any rational discussion or debate
on the topic.
Fordham University

R. BENTLEY ANDERSON

American Christians and Islam: Evangelical Culture and Muslims from the
Colonial Period to the Age of Terrorism. By Thomas S. Kidd. (Princeton:
Princeton University Press. 2009. Pp xx, 201. $29.95. ISBN 978-0-69113349-2.)
In the last two decades, several books have appeared that take their subject the relationship between American Christians and the Middle East. (For

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example, see Ussama Makdisi’s superb study Artillery of Heaven [Ithaca, NY,
2008], and Fuad Shaaban’s Islam and Arabs in Early American Thought:
Roots of Orientalism in America [Durham, NC, 1991]).Yet, for the most part
these have been narrowly focused scholarly works. American Christians
and Islam is the first book that covers the longue durée of American
Christian views on Islam and Muslims. Starting from the colonial period and
extending through the post-9/11 era, Thomas S. Kidd aims to show that
American Christians (in reality almost exclusively white conservative
Protestants) have always had a problematic and primarily antagonistic relationship with Islam. Rather, than see 9/11 as the turning point in that relationship, he shows that the same themes (conversion of Muslims, missionary
work among Muslims, and Islam and Muhammad as the antithesis of
Christianity and Christ) have coursed through Evangelical discourse and diatribe for more than 300 years.
Across eight chapters, Kidd illustrates his argument with a rich and convincing collection of evidence. Amongst early Americans, Islam came to play
a key role in shaping both intra-Protestant theological arguments (where
opponents associated each other’s views with that of Muhammad), as well as
the nascent American national narrative.The same themes continued through
the age of the early American Republic.As with the Barbary piracy in the eighteenth century, pirate attacks on American ships in the nineteenth century
generated a keen interest in captivity narratives and eschatological writing
with a historicist bend.Thus, Islam came to be seen by the likes of Jonathan
Edwards as the smoke locusts in Revelation 9. According to Kidd, it was this
sense that there was a growing clash between Islam and Christianity that
underpinned the American missionary efforts to Muslims. While producing
only a handful of converts to Christianity, this nineteenth and early-twentieth
missionary movement was formative in the shaping of American Orientalism
with its “Bible lands” travel narratives and conversion stories that depicted
Muslims as thirsting for Christ.
In the twentieth century this missionary movement split over the lack of
any tangible evidence of success. Orientalists such as Samuel Zwemer
believed in an organized effort to slowly convert Muslims. However, increasingly Dispensationalists came to dominate the missionary movement, and
they interpreted unfolding political events as signs of the End of Times. The
dismemberment of the Ottoman Empire and the rise of Zionism and the political project to establish a Jewish state in Palestine produced a new dominant
narrative among American evangelicals whereby Arabs and Muslims were the
enemies of Israel—whose re-establishment was another sign of the End of
Times—and thus the enemies of Christianity. The confluence of the Zionist
narrative and project with the eschatological evangelical organized efforts
and prophetic pronouncements that Christians must support Israel only
intensified after the 1967 and 1973 wars, and came to a feverish pitch in the
aftermath of the first Gulf War and then the events of 9/11.

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The story that Kidd tells is compelling and enlightening in its nuanced
depiction of conservative American Christian views on Islam and Muslims
across three centuries. However, the very strength of the narrative (its encyclopedic nature) also makes for a weakness: namely, the absence of any sustained and deep analysis of the causes for the overwhelmingly hostile
approach to Islam. Although Kidd dismisses Edward Said’s Orientalism
(New York, 1978) as a flawed rubric of analysis, he does not offer any convincing alternative as to why Islam would be held in such sustained contempt and fear by American evangelicals. Actions by some Muslims (piracy
and much later terrorist attacks) may account for some of this but they
hardly explain the whole trajectory of animosity. Nonetheless, this book is
a well-written and enlightening overview of the American Evangelical
approach to Islam.
North Carolina State University

AKRAM FOUAD KHATER

The Practice of Pluralism: Congregational Life and Religious Diversity in
Lancaster, Pennsylvania, 1730–1820. By Mark Häberlein. (University
Park: Pennsylvania State University Press. 2009. Pp. xi, 276. $79.00. ISBN
978-0-271-03521-5.)
Mark Häberlein’s tightly written book chronicles religion in Lancaster,
Pennsylvania, as it evolved from backcountry to maturity during the colonial,
revolutionary, and early-republican periods. Five congregations—three
German-speaking (German Reformed, Lutheran, and Moravian) and two
English (Anglican and Presbyterian)—form the core of Häberlein’s inquiry
into this thriving inland town. The Practice of Pluralism is a revised version
of Häberlein’s dissertation written at Penn State University, and the author
currently is professor of modern history at the University of Bamberg,
Germany.
At first glance, The Practice of Pluralism appears most similar to works on
diversity in the Midatlantic, such as Sally Schwartz’s A Mixed Multitude: The
Struggle for Toleration in Colonial Pennsylvania (New York, 1989) or Aaron
Spencer Fogleman’s recent counterargument in Jesus Is Female: Moravians
and Radical Religion in Early America (Philadelphia, 2007). But Häberlein’s
theme—that the “quest for order and stability” (p. 12) dominated religious life
during the ninety-year period of his study—puts his book in a different category.According to Häberlein, challenges to congregational life included immigrants who needed to adjust, questions about lay authority, and disagreements
over church order, but by the late-eighteenth century stability reigned in the
form of impressive buildings, charters of incorporation, and lengthy pastorates.Thus, the closest relatives to Häberlein may be After the Backcountry:
Rural Life in the Great Valley of Virginia, 1800–1900 by Kenneth E. Koons
and Warren R. Hofstra (Knoxville, 2000), which tracks maturity in another
part of Greater Pennsylvania, and Richard L. Bushman’s The Refinement of

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America: Persons, Houses, Cities (New York, 1992), a discussion of the quest
for improvement.
One of the book’s major strengths is its research. Häberlein has meticulously assembled biographic and economic data on a large portion of the pastors, deacons, elders, vestrymen, and other lay leaders in Lancaster during this
period.The story slows during these lengthy passages, but the amount of evidence is impressive.
Another strength is the conclusion, which demonstrates the author’s analytical ability as he summarizes the evidence and makes interesting points
about religion in Lancaster. Häberlein points out, for example, that the
diverse community of Christians in Lancaster practiced tolerance, although
probably not self-consciously. Also, Continental Pietism provided Germans in
Lancaster with both religion of the heart and ecclesiastical order, which
explains why early-nineteenth-century revivalism bypassed them. Because
lay influence was present in the beginning, Lancaster had no triumphant,
democratic, growing-lay-influence narrative. Likewise, church attendance
remained high throughout the period of study, removing any suggestions of
secularization. In sum, postrevolutionary Lancaster lacked the “turmoil,
upheaval, and dramatic change” (p. 239) of many other communities,
because it achieved stability and maturity prior to independence. Häberlein
suggests that religious studies have overemphasized communities that experienced rapid change, especially involving evangelicalism; instead, he
believes that places “outside the evangelical mainstream” (p. 243), like
Lancaster and similar Pennsylvania communities (Germantown, Reading, and
York), which began with diversity, may be better models than New England
for the emerging cities in the nineteenth-century Midwest. Although the
book’s theme of stability and maturity might be a bit obvious, the author’s
subthemes are not and particularly demonstrate his skill as a historian. This
excellent book adds much to the understanding of religion in the early
Midatlantic and the maturation of backcountry American society.
Bridgewater College, VA

STEVE LONGENECKER

Christianity in Action: The International History of the Salvation Army. By
Henry Gariepy. (Grand Rapids, MI:William B. Eerdmans. 2009. Pp. xvi, 286.
$25.00. ISBN 978-0-802-84841-3.)
Few organizations in the world enjoy more widespread recognition than
the Salvation Army. Almost all Americans are familiar with its ubiquitous
street-corner bell-ringing, especially at Christmas time, and with its long history of social service, including its “soup kitchens” and other ministries to
those in need.A prominent advertising agency recently rated the Army’s redshield logo as one of the ten most instantly recognizable “brand names” in
the world.

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What is not quite so widely understood, however, is that the Salvation
Army is not simply a religiously motivated social service organization, but has
always been, since its American founding in 1880, a freestanding Protestant
Christian denomination. Religiously, it belongs firmly to the family of “holiness” churches that emerged from Methodism in the late-nineteenth century,
and as such it retains much in common within other similar denominations,
often with “Holiness” or “Wesleyan” as part of their name.
However, more than most such denominations of similar or equal size, the
Army’s flamboyant beginnings, its genius for spectacular public relations, and
its highly visible place in American life make its history of considerable intrinsic interest to religious historians and a potentially rich subject for scholarly
interpretation. Moreover, the Army’s strong social and religious conservatism,
and its longtime affinity with powerful private and governmental institutions,
are especially deserving of full, fair, and careful analysis.
Colonel Henry Gariepy’s Christianity in Action is not such a study. Rather,
it is a celebratory, pious institutional history by the longtime chief editor of
the Army’s official publication The War Cry and a faculty member of its
“Officer Training College” (what more conventional denominations label a
seminary).The book’s foreword by the commanding general of the church’s
international headquarters in London and its jacket endorsements by other
prominent Salvationist officers (i.e., ministers) suggest its intended audience
and tone.
As with most such insider institutional histories, the work does chronicle
the basic facts and major actors in the Army’s long and colorful history, with
a plenitude of notable events and dates.The writing is upbeat and uncritical
throughout, and controversies are only briefly and delicately treated. Readers
looking for wider contexts, insights, or interpretations will be disappointed.
The author instead intends that his readers will “find within these pages both
information on and inspiration from this movement that God brought into
existence and blessed” (p. xvi).
There is indeed a good deal of useful, factual information in Christianity
in Action, and for the most part it is competently conveyed in straightforward
prose. However, historians looking for more useful introductions to the
Salvation Army’s history would do better to begin with Edward McKinley’s
older Marching to Glory: A History of the Salvation Army in the United
States, 1880–1992 (San Francisco, 1992), or Diane H. Winston’s more recent
Red-Hot and Righteous: The Urban Religion of the Salvation Army
(Cambridge, MA, 1999). McKinley provides a good, basic sense of the Army’s
mission and institutional history, while Winston is especially illuminating on
the urban and women’s history dimensions of the Army as it has evolved
through time.
Gariepy’s narrative will be profitably read by many of the Salvationists and
others for whom it is intended and will no doubt serve to inspire them to

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carry on the Army’s generally admirable work. On the evidence of this book,
however, it appears that genuinely critical history, whether in the hands of
insiders or outsiders, has not yet been viewed by the Salvation Army as
another way it might advance its religious mission or develop different sorts
of relationships with other Christian traditions and the wider culture.
Valparaiso University

MEL PIEHL

The Church & the Land: The National Catholic Rural Life Conference and
American Society, 1923–2007. By David S. Bovée. (Washington, DC: The
Catholic University of America Press. 2010. Pp. xvi, 399. $79.95. ISBN 9780-813-21720-8.)
The rural history of the United States includes the denominational
response to social and economic problems in the countryside. During the
twentieth century the Catholic Church attempted to strengthen its presence
in rural America by fostering its own country life program. By 1920, church
leaders believed that rural Catholics needed greater association not only to
keep them in the fold but also to improve their secular lives. During the early
1920s, Father Edwin Vincent O’Hara served as the director of the Rural Life
Bureau of the Social Action Department of the National Catholic Welfare
Council. From his parish in Oregon O’Hara worked with agricultural leaders,
organizations, and clergy to help improve rural life. In 1923, O’Hara called a
meeting of Catholics to discuss rural problems. Gathering in St. Louis at the
same time as the Sixth Annual Meeting of the American Country Life
Association, the delegates gained considerable attention and established the
National Catholic Rural Life Conference (NCRLC) before the meeting ended.
Rural Catholics now had an organized, structured way to make their needs
known to the Church and society as well as to help eliminate isolation and
improve assimilation.
The NCRLC worked to improve parent education and provide credit
unions and vocation schools to teach children more than religion, all
designed to keep Catholics on the land and boost the rural population. The
NCRLC also wanted to gain converts to help ensure a denominational presence in the countryside, and it championed the traditional belief that rural
culture was superior to urban living. During the 1930s the NCRLC became
the most important church-affiliated agrarian movement that considered the
solution of rural problems its primary responsibility for the good of the
nation and Church. The NCRLC placed its faith and efforts for reform in a
back-to-the-land movement and supported the subsistence homestead program of the federal government. After the Great Depression the continued
urbanization of Catholics and the industrialization of agriculture limited the
achievements of the NCRLC and forced its leaders to redirect its programmatic activities. After World War II, the NCRLC became increasingly active in
the efforts to end world hunger through agricultural improvement and land

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reform in developing nations. It also advocated food safety, the rights of
migrant workers, and environmental responsibility by all agriculturalists,
among other considerations. The NCRLC remained a major forum for rural
social action where Catholic identity remained at the forefront, and it served
as an important advocacy group for rural Christians and liberal causes. By
the end of the twentieth century, the NCRLC’s purpose had changed from
spreading Catholicism to providing a Catholic influence on rural issues. Its
voice had become less evangelical and more social gospel; yet it remained
committed to linking Christians, particularly Catholics, and traditional rural
values in an increasingly urban, secular, and scientific world. By so doing, the
NCRLC provided a strong, respected voice that brought a Christian perspective to rural issues.
David Bovée has written an excellent institutional history of the NCRLC.
It is thoughtful, prodigiously researched, clearly written, and analytical. Bovée
notes NCRLC problems, including matters of leadership, as well as its successes, idealism, and unfulfilled dreams. This work will help agricultural, rural,
and church historians understand the contribution of the NCRLC to the
improvement of rural life in the twentieth century. Church historians will
find it an important contribution to the institutional record. Overall, Bovée
has provided a solid analysis of the institutional development and work of the
NCRLC, all linked to ideas and the execution of church and public policy.
Purdue University

R. DOUGLAS HURT

On the Irish Waterfront: The Crusader, the Movie, and the Soul of the Port
of New York. By James T. Fisher. [Cushwa Center Studies of Catholicism in
Twentieth-Century America.] (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. 2009.
Pp. xiv, 370. $29.95. ISBN 978-0-801-44804-1.)
The now classic Kazan-Schulberg film On the Waterfront (1954) depicted
a brutal world, already familiar from testimony to the Senate’s Crime
Committee. More unexpectedly, the hero was a “labor priest,” Father Pete
Barry. In this deeply researched and compellingly narrated book James T.
Fisher tells the true story behind the famous movie.The priest was based on
the charismatic Jesuit Father “Pete” Corridan of the Xavier Labor School, who
had been running a long campaign against humiliating hiring practices, corrupt union officials, and the connections of both businessmen and labor leaders with criminals on Manhattan’s West Side piers. Corridan faced an uphill
battle, and the book has no happy ending, as he was ultimately defeated.
Fisher has three main objectives. First, and this is perhaps his most original
achievement, he aims to provide a complete picture of the interlocking
worlds of businessmen, labor leaders, politicians, priests, and gangsters who,
in their different ways, exercised great power over life in the waterfront districts on either side of the Hudson River from the later nineteenth century up
to the 1950s. These five forms of power are represented here by the steve-

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doring millionaire, William J.“Mr. Big” McCormack;“King Joe” Ryan, life president of the International Longshoremen’s Association; Frank Hague, mayor of
Jersey City for thirty years; Monsignor John J.“Taxi Jack” O’Donnell, chaplain
to the port; and John “Cockeye” Dunn, who was finally brought to the electric
chair for the last of an alleged thirty-two murders. All these men were
Catholics of Irish descent, most had risen from poverty, and most were intimately acquainted with one another. Each in his own way contributed to the
formidable strength of the status quo; and, above all, this regime, in spite of its
many evils, was accepted by a large proportion of their fellow Irish Catholics
living and working on the waterfront.
Fisher’s second aim is to provide a sympathetic, though not uncritical,
account of Corridan’s crusade. He came from an Irish working-class background similar to those arrayed against him, but his strength lay in the ability
to forge alliances with those who could publicize his crusade, most notably
Malcolm Johnson of the New York Sun and the screenwriter Budd Schulberg,
who became a close friend. But this strength was also in some ways a liability since, as Fisher repeatedly notes, he was much less effective in making
alliances with those actually working on the waterfront.
The third theme of the book is the making of the movie, and here a major
concern is to refute ill-informed criticisms of Schulberg’s motives in writing
the script. It is a great achievement to bring these three stories together to
make a coherent and thoroughly convincing big story. Inevitably the narrative
structure and the focus on the key personalities means that no one aspect can
be considered in the detail that a more narrowly focused study would permit.
Those especially interested in the Catholic dimension will welcome the
extended discussion both of the potential impact of a “labor priest” in such an
overwhelmingly Catholic milieu and also of the limits placed on his work by
powerful opponents within the diocese or, in this case, his order. Corridan
was fortunate in enjoying the support for many years of his provincial (and of
Cardinal Francis Spellman), but when a new provincial came, the turbulent
priest was quickly sidelined. Fisher’s most interesting point is that the “labor
priest” could face opposition even from those whom he hoped to assist:There
was a widely held view that priests should stick to the “spiritual” and not
directly enter the world of politics or industrial relations. Here one might
wish for a whole chapter devoted to “Taxi Jack,” who maintained what Fisher
calls a version of the “two kingdoms” theology, and apparently enjoyed the
respect and friendship of employers, politicians, and many longshoremen—
although not, it seems, of many of his fellow priests. But Fisher has written a
fine book, which is as readable as it is wide ranging and provocative.
University of Birmingham, UK

HUGH MCLEOD

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Before Dallas: The U.S. Bishops’ Response to Clergy Sexual Abuse of
Children. By Nicholas P. Cafardi. (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press. 2008. Pp. xii,
255. $27.95. ISBN 978-0-8091-0580-9.)
Nicholas Cafardi, former dean of the Duquesne University Law School,
trained in both American and canon law, and a charter member of the
American bishops’ Committee for the Protection of Children and Youth (the
“National Review Board”), is well situated to write a book that provides deep
insight into how the sexual abuse of young people by members of the
Catholic clergy was handled and mishandled by church authorities.
Unfortunately, this is not that book.
Cafardi’s book is divided into six chapters:“The Canonical Crime of Sexual
Abuse of a Minor by a Cleric: An Historical Synopsis” (pp. 1–9),“The Scope of
the Problem: An Historical Synopsis” (pp. 10–14),“The Canonical Landscape:
The Failure of the Penal System” (pp. 15–46),“What Did the Bishops Do?” (pp.
47–112),“The Treatment Option” (pp. 115–41), and “Canonical Lessons to Be
Learned” (pp. 146–55). The reader will find none of these chapters entirely
satisfying. For example, the historical synopsis reads the history of canonical
norms dealing with sexual sins involving clerics from the vantage point of the
recent crisis and concludes that the sort of sexual abuse of young men by
priests with which we have become all too familiar of late has been endemic
to the Church since the age of the fathers.This anachronistic reading involves
a recounting of historical data without the benefit of historical perspective.
The account of what the American bishops did in response to their growing
awareness of the problem of sexual abuse of minors by priests is equally
unsatisfying. Cafardi recounts the now well-known story of how, although the
American bishops should have been aware by 1992 that reappointment of
priests who had sexually abused minors was fraught with dangers, some of
them continued to make such reappointments with predictable catastrophic
consequences. However, he offers no insight into why these bishops failed to
learn from the past. By ending this account with only a passing mention of
the interventions in 2001 by Pope John Paul II and the Congregation for the
Doctrine of the Faith to change the universal law governing the delict of
sexual abuse of minors by clerics and its prosecution and of the “Dallas
Charter” enacted by the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops as particular law for the United States, Cafardi leaves the story he narrates frustratingly incomplete. Of course, a book with the title Before Dallas does not
promise to deal with these matters, but why would one publish such a truncated account in 2008?
In his treatment of the failure of the canonical penal system and elsewhere
in this book, Cafardi singles out canon lawyers in general and Francis
Morrisey, O.M.I.; James H. Provost; and this reviewer in particular as bearing
special responsibility for the inability or unwillingness of bishops to use
canonical penal law to address the clergy sexual abuse crisis effectively.
Although those who played any role in the handling and mishandling of

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sexual abuse cases prior to 2001 (or even after) did not cover themselves
with glory, Cafardi’s characterization is unfair and misleading.
The Catholic University of America

JOHN P. BEAL

Latin American
Crossing Borders with the Santo Niño de Atocha. By Juan Javier Pescador.
(Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. 2009. Pp. xxiv, 256. $34.95.
ISBN 978-0-826-34709-1.)
Juan Javier Pescador’s thoughtful history of the Santo Niño de Atocha—
from its Iberian origins as a Marian devotion (La Virgen de Atocha) through its
rise in Zacatecas, Mexico, and spread into northern New Mexico and elsewhere—is a welcome addition for scholars of Catholicism in Mexico and the
United States. Geared to a learned audience, it utilizes a wide range of archival
and other primary documents, and vividly chronicles the devotion’s evolution
across borders as a “different way of connecting with the sacred” (p. 170).The
first three chapters examine the Spanish Our Lady of Atocha; the rise of the
shrine to the Holy Child in Plateros (Fresnillo), Mexico; and the emergence of
the “borderlands saint” between 1848 and 1880 reportedly venerated in 1859
by the New Mexican Severiano Medina in his village chapel. A final, lengthy
chapter points to the importance of that legacy (as well as other Mexican
popular devotions) in Mexico, South Texas, the Midwest, and Guatemala.
Dominican missionaries in Zacatecas embraced the devotion to the Holy
Child, who is portrayed either as a boy pilgrim or baby prince, during the sixteenth century. In the eighteenth century the priest of the local parish ran the
nearby chapel shrine. By the early-nineteenth century, Santo Niño, now fully
detached from Our Lady of Atocha, had risen to prominence as protector of
silver miners in Zacatecas. Subsequently, Mexican laborers brought him along
in their migrations, and the devotion spread north over the Camino Real de
Tierra Adentro.Various sites emerged as far as northern New Mexico, where,
in the late-nineteenth century, the image was placed at the Sanctuary of the
Señor de Esquípulas in Chimayó. It sparked considerable fervor from near and
far, and eventually overtook the previously dominant icon. In the 1930s, however, tensions arose between Mexican-American devotees and the
Archdiocese of Santa Fe, which, as new custodian of the shrine, downplayed
the reputation of the Santo Niño, causing the locals to center their veneration
once again at the Medina Chapel (a former Penitente morada).
In analyzing more current developments, Pescador relies heavily on a collection of private letters sent to the Santo Niño in the Plateros sanctuary, most
of which came from people of Mexican origin living in the United States,
which was published by Father Juan Pereira in 2000. These expressions of
thanks for miracles and prayers granted, he writes,“normally lack the rever-

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ential tone of Roman Catholicism’s organized rituals” (p. 145), yet “reflect the
voices of believers and how they approach a divine entity in their intimate,
unique way within the framework of popular Roman Catholicism” (p. 146).
Two entirely different devotional episodes—that of Chicago’s Via Crucis
(invoked as a “border-crossing ritual” asserting religious identity) and the
2002 unveiling of a huge statue of the Virgin of Guadalupe brought from
Mexico City to Grand Rapids, Michigan—present further evidence of a
common Mexican immigrant devotional experience. Here as elsewhere, photographs and other useful illustrations effectively complement the text.
These chapters offer historical continuity, but they are not always comprehensive or fully on point. For example, the author’s sketchy coverage of
the medieval Castilian Lady of Atocha skips over relevant religious dimensions
of Reconquista conflict. Meanwhile, the sprawling accounts of twentieth-century popular devotions overstate the impact of the devotion itself, even if
they illuminate similar yearnings for healing and protection, as well as expressions of gratitude. Nevertheless, the author’s many interesting insights confirm the necessity of adopting both broad historical context and a wide geographic landscape for studying Catholicism among Mexicans and Mexican
Americans.
Lehman College, City University of New York

DAVID A. BADILLO

African
The Presbyterian Church of East Africa: An Account of Its Gospel
Missionary Society Origins, 1895–1946. By Evanson N. Wamagatta.
[American University Studies, Series VII: Theology and Religion, Vol. 290.]
(New York: Peter Lang. 2009. Pp. xx, 251. $76.95. ISBN 978-1-433-10596-8.)
This book, which originated as a PhD dissertation for the University of
West Virginia, is a study in missionary failure.After a half-century of work the
Gospel Missionary Society, the only mission in colonial Kenya not to have
founded an African church, had to merge with the Church of Scotland
Mission, one of Kenya’s most successful and the parent of the Presbyterian
Church of East Africa, now with more than 4 million members. There were
many reasons for the GMS’s failure, but one was fundamental—its origin in a
tiny, conservative evangelical church in New England that with great faith but
less wisdom founded missionary enterprises in no less than three continents.
The work of the GMS in Central Kenya was never free of financial constraints.
Its few American missionaries—thin on the ground, often ill, and lacking
home leave—showed extraordinary devotion, as did their early Kikuyu converts and evangelists who could have found much better paid employment
elsewhere. But missionary devotion can inspire a retentive paternalism as
much as strategic generosity; moreover, the missionaries’ pre-millennialist
beliefs placed less store on church-building than on evangelization.

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Wamagatta also notes the striking contrast between the two main British
Protestant mission societies at work in Central Kenya (the Anglican Church
Missionary Society and the Presbyterian Scots Mission, which early ordained
an African clergy) and the two American societies (the Africa Inland Mission
and the GMS, which did not)—the former had long imperial experience to
draw upon; the latter did not.
Otherwise, the GMS’s difficulties were similar to those of the other
Protestant missionary societies of their time and place, not least the decline
in missionary vocations after the spiritual catastrophe of World War I and the
financial difficulties of the 1930s.To these general setbacks to evangelization
Kenya and Kikuyuland added their own particular disadvantages. In Kenya, a
colony of British farm settlement, white missionaries never escaped the suspicion of being surreptitious allies of land-grabbing white settlers—and GSM
missionaries had to cultivate to supplement their stipends. Conversely, the
comparatively rapid expansion of the African clerical labor market, whether
for private employers or in government departments, made it hard for missions to retain their ablest adherents. Wamagatta also gives good accounts,
from missionary journals and government correspondence files, of the challenges to evangelization posed by indigenous medicine; the taint attached to
handling the dead; polygyny; and, above all, the so-called “female circumcision
crisis” of 1929–30 in which most Protestant missionaries, including those of
the GMS, tried to forbid the practice of clitoridectomy to its adolescent
female adherents. (The Catholic missions wisely regarded the practice as a
social rather than spiritual problem, the Anglicans were divided, and government deplored any missionary enthusiasm for interfering in “native custom”).
One sad consequence of the GMS’s failure to establish an African church
is that Wamagatta is able to give his readers little idea of the Christian life led
by the mission’s African adherents or their thoughts and prayers. For such
insights, one must turn elsewhere in the growing historiography of Kikuyu
Christianity.
Trinity College, University of Cambridge

JOHN LONSDALE

Asian
Women Religious Leaders in Japan’s Christian Century, 1549–1650. By
Haruko Nawata Ward. [Women and Gender in the Early Modern World.]
(Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing. 2009. Pp. xvi, 405. $124.95. ISBN 9780-754-66478-9.)
C. R. Boxer coined the term Christian Century and used it in the title of
his book, The Christian Century in Japan, 1549–1650 (Berkeley, 1951).The
use of this term, which refers to the years from the arrival of St. Francis Xavier
in Kagoshima to the Tokugawa government’s banning of trade relations with

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Catholic Europe, is controversial. George Elison in his book Deus Destroyed:
The Image of Christianity in Early Modern Japan (Cambridge, MA, 1973, p.
1) and Ronald Toby in State and Diplomacy in Early Modern Japan: Asia in
the Development of the Tokugawa Bakufu (Stanford, 1991, p. 8) are of the
opinion that the Christian mission in Japan had no lasting cultural influence.
Scholars on the other side of the controversy—such as Robert Bellah in
Tokugawa Religion:The Cultural Roots of Modern Japan (Glencoe, IL, 1957)
and Andrew Ross in A Vision Betrayed: The Jesuits in Japan and China,
1542–1742 (New York, 1994)—claim a much more significant influence for
Christianity in Japanese society.
Haruko Nawata Ward, in her well-researched book, enters into this controversy and argues that the Christian mission had a significant cultural and
social impact on Japan. Through her detailed analysis of the activities of
Christian women such as Hosokawa Tama Gracia (1563–1600), Ward provides strong evidence to show that the Jesuit mission was successful in ways
that have been overlooked by historians. She convincingly argues that
Christianity empowered women to make their own decisions about their
lives: to take vows of celibacy as nuns or to choose their own marriage partners. The Christian community gave women opportunities to exercise leadership in ministries of teaching, persuading, preaching, and works of mercy,
all of which was perceived as a threat in an increasingly neo-Confucian society (see p. 15).
The author also introduces the reader to Buddhist women leaders, such as
–
–
the wife of Otomo Yoshishige Sorin
(1530–87), the daimyo of Bungo. Queen
–
Otomo, known to the Jesuit missionaries and Christians as “Lady Jezebel,” was
the principal leader of the anti-Christian force in Bungo. Ward discusses the
–
toleration showed by some Jesuits for Otomo’s separation from her and his
–
remarriage to his concubine in the hope of gaining Otomo’s patronage and
conversion. A thorough discussion of the canon law of the Catholic Church
concerning marriage as well as Japanese marriage law allows the reader to
understand the intricacies and difficulties of cultural adaptation in the period.
Ward looks closely at the circumstances by which the policy of persecution
in Japan gradually evolved. She explains more adeptly than many other historians the political and cultural reasons for the persecution, suggesting that the
origins of the Tokugawa shogunate’s ultimate rejection of Christianity lay to a
great extent in the active ministry of Kirishitan (Christian) women.Their catechetical endeavors so threatened the Tokugawa neo-Confucian ideology that
the regime had to suppress all women’s activism (p. 289) until the new Meiji
government finally lifted its ban of Christianity in 1873.
Ward’s book invites readers to understand the Catholic mission in Japan in
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries not simply as a European effort to
proselytize a non-Christian land but as a catalyst that encouraged women to
exert a powerful social, cultural, and political influence on their own people
and government. This important book opens new directions for further

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research into women’s history and invites a re-examination of the history of
the Catholic Church in Japan.
Loyola University New Orleans

WILLIAM J. FARGE, S.J.

China’s Christian Colleges: Cross-Cultural Connections 1900–1950. Edited
by Daniel H. Bays and Ellen Widmer. (Palo Alto: Stanford University Press.
2009. Pp. xiv, 405. $24.95 paperback. ISBN 978-0-804-75949-6.)
In 1976, John King Fairbank predicted that, in twenty years, the field of
China studies would be much broader and more varied. One must wonder if
he envisioned a book like this one, where the essays are written by a librarian, three people in the field of education, a former grants administrator, an
architect, a lawyer, an anthropologist, and several historians of China. They
bring to the study of the Protestant mission colleges in China a perspective
based on their own discipline, adding new dimensions to what we know
about these institutions.The cross-cultural dimensions of missionaries in the
field who wanted the colleges to produce Christian graduates who could
then convert all of China; the administrators at home whose views of the institutions were based on their American experience and frequently ignored the
realities of China; the Chinese government, which tolerated foreigners teaching modern subjects but preferred it without proselytizing; and the students
who wanted education in the modern subjects that they perceived had
strengthened Western nations and thus might enable them to transform China
into an equal partner with the West—these varied elements all collided on the
campuses of the Christian colleges. Each competing group, convinced its
methods were the correct ones, sought ways to achieve its goals. From
Mathilda Thurston and her Shanghai-based, Western architect, who wanted
the Ginling College campus in the shape of a cross, to the students at
Soochow Law School in Shanghai who wanted to further their prospects in
the business world, each found and took from the colleges lasting cross-cultural understanding (or misunderstanding) of the other’s country. Jiafeng
Liu’s article on American plans for China’s colleges in the period after World
War II demonstrates how those in the United States could so misunderstand
the situation in China and the dangers of using the experiences of Christian
colleges in the United States as a model for those in China. Helen Schneider’s
article on Ava B. Milam and the introduction of home economics as a discipline in China illustrates how Americans’ ideas of what women should study
in college was translated to China as the improvement of Chinese families
through women knowing how to scientifically run their homes. Apparently,
no one thought to ask if Chinese women were interested in the topic. The
issue of teaching English to Chinese students is covered very effectively in the
article by Edward Yihua Xu.
The inclusion of essays on a Christian college in Japan and Robert College
in Istanbul demonstrate that the challenges of establishing a foreign-style col-

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lege in China were not unique to that country. The establishment of Robert
College, in particular, demonstrates how misunderstandings, private interests,
and public diplomacy intersect.
In sum, this book covers many topics not previously researched regarding
the American Protestant missionary effort in China and thus adds much to our
knowledge of that endeavor. The book is highly recommended for those seeking a broader understanding of cross-cultural education and its impact on
globalization in recent times.
Pennsylvania State University, Lehigh Valley

KATHLEEN L. LODWICK

NOTES AND COMMENTS
________
Announcement of ACHA Awards for Scholarship, Service,
and Teaching and ACHA Graduate Fellowships
In 2010, the Executive Council of the American Catholic Historical
Association (ACHA) approved the creation of honorary awards to recognize
the service of distinguished members and to acknowledge significant contributions to the field of Catholic history. Nominations and supporting data
came from the membership and were evaluated by the ACHA president, vicepresident, and executive secretary.We are pleased to confer these awards on
the following individuals and institutions.
Lifetime Distinguished Scholarship
This award is bestowed on the scholar, who, in the view of the nominators,
has made a significant impact on the understanding of Catholic history
during a long career. The award is not for one book or any single piece of
scholarship, but rather for a sustained series of contributions that have fundamentally animated the research of others and also have significance in their
own right.
The first award goes to Frank J. Coppa, recently retired from St. John’s
University, New York. Coppa is a longtime ACHA member and a frequent contributor to its meetings as both presenter and commentator. He is distinguished for his work on the modern papacy, including his role as an early
researcher of the papers of Blessed Pope Pius IX.
Service to Catholic Studies
This award acknowledges the exceptional contributions of those who promote study and research of the history of Catholicism broadly conceived,
apart from teaching and publication.The term service may include any and all
of the following areas, but is not restricted to these elements: service to the
ACHA, archival management, museum displays and other forms of public history, and media.
The honoree this year is the Leadership Conference of Women Religious
for its sponsorship of the exhibition “Women and Spirit: Catholic Sisters in
America,” which opened at the Smithsonian in 2009 and is currently traveling
around the country. Its Web site sums up the subject of the exhibition:
“‘Women and Spirit: Catholic Sisters in America’ reveals the mystery behind a
small group of independent American women who helped to shape the
195

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nation’s social and cultural landscape.” This award honors this magnificent
display that weaves the history of women religious into the larger narrative
of American life and also affirms the many women religious who have played
such an important role in the ACHA through their scholarship and service.
Excellence in Teaching
This award is given to a college or university professor who has demonstrated high commitment to teaching beyond the expected requirements of
his or her position and, through his or her influence and skill, has promoted
Catholic studies from one generation of scholars to another. The ACHA
affirms, through this award, the work of creative and effective teaching in promoting Catholic history as an attractive career field for younger scholars.
This year, the award is given to Kenneth Pennington, Kelly-Quinn
Professor of Ecclesiastical History and professor of law at The Catholic
University of America. Pennington’s vitality in the classroom has been the
inspiration of numerous students, who discover to their great joy that church
history can be interesting. At the same time, he is a prolific scholar—an
author or editor of books and more than seventy articles. His teaching scores
and his student evaluations are, in the words of one colleague,“off the charts.”
Pennington’s positive influence on a generation of students will no doubt
attract many to the field of Catholic history.
Presidential Graduate Fellowship
In 2010, the Executive Council approved the creation of a fund to assist
graduate students in traveling to the ACHA annual or spring meetings to present papers.Applicants must be members of the ACHA, have papers accepted
at the conference they wish to attend, and provide documentary evidence of
their background and a letter of recommendation from a faculty member—
preferably their dissertation director. Two grants of $500 each will be provided per year. Generous donations from several former presidents and a
$2000 grant from the ACHA have made these grants possible.
The first honorees are the following:
Monica Mercado of the University of Chicago, who is presenting the paper
“‘What a Blessing to be Fond of Reading Good Books’: Reading Circles and
Catholic Women in Turn-of-the-Century America” at the Ninety-First Annual
ACHA Meeting in Boston. This paper was drawn from the final chapters of
Mercado’s dissertation, “Women and the Word: Gender, Print, and Catholic
Identity in Nineteenth-Century America.”
Sheila Nowinski of the University of Notre Dame, who is presenting the
paper “The Catholic Family in Postwar Rural France: L’exposition de la Maison
Rurale, 1947–1950” at the Ninety-First Annual ACHA Meeting in Boston.

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197

Nowinski is currently working on her dissertation, “Religion and Social
Change in Postwar France: The Jeunesse agricole catholique, 1944–1968,”
under the direction of former ACHA president Thomas Kselman.
STEVEN M.AVELLA
2010 President, ACHA
Marquette University
Exhibitions
On display until the end of January 2011 is the exhibition “Conoscere la
Biblioteca Vaticana: Una storia aperta al futuro” in the Braccio di Carlo Magno
in St. Peter’s Square.With the help of videos and computers, it seeks to make
better known the activities, treasures, and mission of the library. For more
information, visit http://www.orpnet.org/informazione/orp_news/conoscere
_la_biblioteca_vaticana.
Opening on February 25, 2011, in the Oakland Museum will be the touring exhibition “The Art of the Missions of Northern New Spain.” On that
occasion, Clara Bargellini, the organizer of the exhibition, will host a public
conversation.
From June 19 to August 14, 2011, Mount St. Mary’s College in Los Angeles
will host the traveling exhibition “Women and Spirit: Catholic Sisters in
America.” In January 2012, it will move to the California Museum of History,
Women, and Arts, in Sacramento. For more information, visit http://www
.womenandspirit.org.
Conferences
On February 16–20, 2011, to commemorate the 500th anniversary of
Martin Luther’s journey to Rome in 1510–11, the German Historical Institute
in Rome and the Melanchthon Center will sponsor the conference “Martin
Luther in Rome: The Cosmopolitan City and His Perception.” Nearly thirty
scholars from Germany, Italy, the United Kingdom, and the United States will
present papers that explore the following questions: What images of themselves did the Roman Curia and the city of Rome seek to project? How were
these perceived by contemporaries? What was the consequence of these perceptions? The papers will be based on traditional scholarship and current
interdisciplinary research. Also present at the conference will be cardinals
Walter Kasper and Karl Lehmann. Among the projected activities of the conference are a visit to the Vatican Museums, a concert at the German national
church Santa Maria dell’Anima, and an ecumenical service at Santa Maria del
Popolo. Luther is reputed to have stayed in Santa Maria del Popolo’s attached
monastery while he was in Rome.
On March 17–19, 2011, the Association of Contemporary Church
Historians will sponsor the conference “Secularization and the Transforma-

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tion of Religion in the U.S. and Germany after 1945” at the German Historical
Institute in Washington, DC. The conference will explore the history and
meaning of secularization and the transformation of the religious landscape
in both countries. Among the topics to be studied are the rise of television,
new forms of public discourse, democratization, liberalization, religious freedom, the influence of science, community building, the self-understanding of
the laity and clergy, the culture of entertainment and consumption, the religious marketplace, and religious expressions in the political arena.Those who
wish to present papers should send an abstract of a maximum of two pages
to Baerbel Thomas (b.thomas@ghi-dc.org). For more information, contact Uta
Andrea Balbier (balbier@ghi-dc.org), or visit http://www.ghi-dc.org.
On April 8–9, 2011, the Thirty-Eighth Sewanee Medieval Colloquium at the
University of the South in Sewanee,Tennessee, will address the topic “Voice,
Gesture, Memory, and Performance in Medieval Texts, Culture, and Art.” To
present a paper, submit an abstract of about 250 words and a brief curriculum vitae to Susan Ridyard (sridyard@sewanee.edu). Completed papers with
notes are due by March 1, 2011. For more information, visit http://www
.sewanee.edu/Medieval/main.html.
On April 19–21, 2011, the Centre for Reformation and Renaissance
Studies at Victoria College in the University of Toronto will sponsor the conference “Early Modern Migrations: Exiles, Expulsions, and Religious Refugees,
1400–1700.” The conference invites a sustained, comparative, and interdisciplinary exploration of the phenomenon and cultural representation of earlymodern migrations. It also aims to consider how the transmission and translation of material, textual, and cultural practices created identity and
cross-cultural identifications in contexts animated by the tension between
location and dislocation.Although often driven by exclusion and intolerance,
the exile/refugee experience also encouraged emerging forms of toleration,
multiculturalism, and notions of cosmopolitanism. To present a paper, contact Marjorie Rubright (marjorie.rubright@utoronto.ca) by January 31, 2011.
On August 5–11, 2012, the Fourteenth International Congress of Medieval
Canon Law will be held at St. Michael’s College in the University of Toronto.
It invites papers on the topics of sources and texts; canonical doctrine; institutions, legislation, and procedures; application and influence; and law, theology, and the schools. Send the title and a brief summary of the proposed
paper—along with the name, title, institutional affiliation, email address, and
postal address of the proposed presenter—to Joseph Goering (joe.goering@
utoronto.ca) by August 15, 2011.
Institute for Advanced Catholic Studies
At its 2009 spring meeting, the board of trustees of the Institute for
Advanced Catholic Studies at the University of Southern California approved
the creation of the “Generations in Dialogue” research program. This program

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199

invites a widely recognized senior Catholic scholar to share his or her expertise with several scholars in the same discipline who are in the early stage of
their careers. Over a two-year period, these scholars, termed institute associates, convene for three weekend dialogues that include discipline-specific discussions, personal reflection, shared prayer, and presentations from other
scholars and experts. It is envisioned that institute associates will benefit from
two years of mentorship with a renowned Catholic scholar, as well as from
establishing relationships with other dedicated scholars.
During the course of their two-year appointments, the institute associates
will share ideas, discuss with the senior scholar and each other the possible
directions of their research, and report progress. The setting of collegial dialogue will foster a deeply connected scholarly community and influence scholarship that is both more grounded in Catholic tradition and more forwardlooking in the relevance and application of that tradition for ordinary
believers. Dialogue among institute associates and the senior scholar will be
conducted through face-to-face meetings, online video conferencing, email,
and phone.
Institute associates are not required to be Catholic, nor need to be studying religion. Those seeking to deepen their area of scholarly interest through
a substantive and critical engagement with Catholicism’s multiple intellectual
traditions are encouraged to join the robust community of scholars committed
to deepening the Catholic tradition.
The institute invites applications from scholars to enter into a sustained dialogue with Bernard McGinn (University of Chicago) on the themes of “The
Vocation of the Christian Scholar” and “The Relationship between Christian
Spiritual Traditions and Modernity.” The fellowship includes three weekends
over eighteen months; expenses are covered with a modest stipend.
Applications are due by March 15, 2011. For further information, contact Gary
Adler, associate director of research at the Institute for Advanced Catholic
Studies (iacs@college.usc.edu or http://www.ifacs.com).
Causes of Saints
Pope Benedict XVI has announced that next year, four priests martyred by
the Nazi regime will be beatified. Ceremonies will be held in Würzburg for
Georg Hafner and in Lübeck for Johannes Prassek, Hermann Lange, and
Eduard Muller. In the Lübeck ceremonies the Evangelical Lutheran pastor Karl
Friedrich Stellbrink will also be commemorated.
Publications
Nine papers presented at the meeting of the Gesellschaft für
Konziliengeschichtsforschung that was held in Split (Seget Donji), Croatia, on
September 18–23, 2008, on the theme “Was ist ein Konzil? Überlegungen zur

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NOTES AND COMMENTS

Typologie insbesondere der ökumenischen Konzilien” have been published in
the society’s organ, Annuarium Historiae Conciliorum, for 2008 (Jahrgang
40, Heft 1). Contributions are as follows: Hermann-Josef Sieben, “Definition
und Kriterien Ökumenischen Konzilien: 1. Jahrtausend” (pp. 7–46); Peter
Bruns, “Die Haltung der ‘Kirche des Ostens’ zum Nicaenum” (pp. 47–60);
Alberto Ferreiro,“The Theology and Typology of the Third Council of Toledo
(589)” (pp. 61–84); Hans Georg Thümmel, “Zur Phänomenologie von
Konzilien. Das 6. Ökumenische Konzil 680/681” (pp. 85–98); Nicola Bux,“Il
Concilio Ecumenico e la teoria della Chiesa Indivisa del Primo Millennio” (pp.
99–110); Agostino Marchetto,“Convocazione e conferma dei sinodi, da parte
del vescovo di Roma, nelle Decretali Pseudo-Isidoriane” (pp. 111–30);Thomas
Prügl,“Ökumenisches Konzil oder Sacrosancta synodus? Zur Diskussion um
die Ökumenizität des Basler Konzils” (pp. 131–66); Nelson H. Minnich, “The
Legitimacy of the Fifth Lateran Council (1512–1517)” (pp. 167–94); and Heinz
Ohme, “Die Bedeutung der ökumenischen Konzile in der Sicht Martin
Luthers” (pp. 195–212).
A conference on the history of Christian archaeology in Eastern Europe
was held at the Campo Santo Teutonico in Vatican City on February 19–21,
2009. The papers presented on that occasion have now been published in the
first double number of Römische Quartalschrift for 2010 (Band 105, Heft
1–2). The following authors have contributed: Rajko Bratož on Slovenia (pp.
3–21); Branka Migotti on northern Croatia (pp. 22–31); Emilio Marin on
Croatia (pp. 32–44); Péter Tusor on Hungary (pp. 45–51); Albert Ovidiu on the
Romanian Ion Barnea (pp. 52–60); Emil Ivanov on Bulgaria (pp. 61–77); Hristo
Preshlenov on the Bulgarian Black Sea Coast (pp. 78–105); Elżbieta
Jastrze˛bowska on Poland (pp. 106–20); Bożena Iwaszkiewicz-Wronikowska
also on Poland (pp. 121–28); Eugenia Chalkia on Greece (pp. 129–42); and
Ernst Dassmann and Gerhard Rexin on Christian archaeology in Bonn (pp.
143–62).
“Hagiographie et prédication” is the theme of vol. 67, no. 3 (2010) of the
Mélanges de Science Religieuse. Charles Mériaux has written an introduction
(pp. 3–4), and the five contributors are the following: Klaus Krönert,
“L’hagiographie entre historiographie et prédication. Étude sur une forme littéraire à partir des textes rédigés à Trèves (VIIIe–XIe siècles)” (pp. 5–26); MarieCéline Isaïa, “Hagiographie et pastorale. La collection canonique d’Hervé,
archevêque de Reims (†922)” (pp. 27–48); Emmanuelle Santinelli-Foltz,“L’eau
dans tous ses états. La perception de l’élément aqueux dans quelques Vies de
saints mérovingiens” (pp. 49–69); Charles Mériaux,“Du nouveau sur la Vie de
saint Éloi” (pp. 71–85); and Jean Heuclin,“La pastorale du mariage à travers
les Vies d’Aldegonde de Maubeuge” (pp. 87–106).
A special issue of Early American Studies, An Interdisciplinary Journal
(vol. 8, Fall 2010) is devoted to the theme “Markets and Morality: Intersections
of Economy, Ethics, and Religion in Early North America.” Following an introduction by the guest editor, Cathy Matson (pp. 475–81), are seven articles:

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201

Katherine Carté Engel,“Religion and the Economy: New Methods for an Old
Problem” (pp. 482–514); Kristen Block, “Cultivating Inner and Outer
Plantations: Property, Industry, and Slavery in Early Quaker Migration to the
New World” (pp. 515–48); Mark Valeri, “William Petty in Boston: Political
Economy, Religion, and Money in Provincial New England” (pp. 549–80); Holly
Snyder,“‘Under the Shado [sic] of Your Wings’: Religiosity in the Mental World
of an Eighteenth-Century Jewish Merchant” (pp. 581–622); Jason M. Opal,
“Enterprise and Emulation:The Moral Economy of Turnpikes in Early National
New England” (pp. 623–45); José R. Torre,“‘An Inward Spring of Motion and
Action’:The Teleology of Political Economy and Moral Philosophy in the Age
of the Anglo-American Enlightenment” (pp. 646–71); and Christopher Clark,“A
Wealth of Notions: Interpreting Economy and Morality in Early America” (pp.
672–83).
Volume 76 (2010) of Historical Studies features papers presented at the
2009 annual meeting of the Canadian Catholic Historical Association’s English
Section, which was held at Carleton University in Ottawa.There are four articles: Peter E. Baltutis,“Rooted in the Vision of Vatican II:Youth Corps and the
Formation of Christ-Centered Activists in Toronto, 1966–1984” (pp. 7–26);
Donald L. Boisvert, “Piety, Purity and Pain: Gérard Raymond and the Ideal of
French Canadian Manhood” (pp. 27–44); Ryan Topping, “Catholic Studies in
Canada: History and Prospects” (pp. 45–60); and Joshua C. Blank, “Pitching,
Pies and Piety: Early Twentieth Century St. Hedwig’s Parish Picnics” (pp.
61–85). Also included are a “historical note” on “Father Aeneas M. Dawson and
Canadian Expansionism” (pp. 87–98) and “A Current Bibliography of Canadian
Religious History” (pp. B1–B32).The same volume contains Études d’histoire
religieuse, Revue publiée par la Société canadienne d’histoire de l’Église
catholique. In this French section there are seven articles: Philippe Martin,
“Des livres de piété pour le Canada (1640–1850)” (pp. 5–26); Marcel
Lajeunesse,“Le livre religieux au Québec, 1968–2007: analyse des données de
l’édition”(pp. 27–42); Fernande Roy, “L’Église catholique à travers Mes Tablettes,
journal intime de Romuald Trudeau, 1820–1850” (pp. 43–56); Catherine Foisy,
“Oralité dans Le Précurseur et Missions Étrangères (1945–1962): entre
prosélytisme et visée pédagogique” (pp. 57–69); Maurice Demers, “Gérard
Dion, Mgr Gustavo Franceschi et le régime populiste de Juan Peròn. Les
intrigues politiques d’Argentine et l’utilité du modèle social québécois” (pp.
71–91); Pierre Pagé,“Actualité et liberté de parole dans les revues catholiques:
quelques jalons 1940–1975” (pp. 93–109); and Louise Bienvenue,“Le catholicisme québécois sur le divan: Les essais du psychanalyste André Lussier dans
Cité Libre” (pp. 111–28).There is also a “note critique” by Benoît Lacroix, O.P.:
“La France émigre au Québec avec l’historien Guy Laperrière” (pp. 129–32).
Personals
Father Mark Massa, S.J., has been appointed dean of the School of Theology
and Ministry at Boston College.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE
General and Miscellaneous
Catholic Enlightenment—Self-Secularization, Strategy of Defense, or Aggiornamento? Some Reflections One Hundred Years after Sebastian Merkle. New
York Lecture in Remembrance of a Change in Understanding. Harm
Klueting. Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte, 121 (1, 2010), 1–10.
Swearing against Modernism: Sacrorum antistitum (September 1, 1910). C. J.
T.Talar. Theological Studies, 71 (Sept., 2010), 515–44.
L’atteggiamento e la prassi della Chiesa in epoca medievale e moderna sull’omosessualità. Maurizio P. Faggioni. Gregorianum, 91 (3, 2010), 478–509.
Abadologio del monasterio de San Benito de Sahagún (Siglos X–XIX). Ernesto
Zaragoza Pascual. Compostellanum, LV (Jan.–June, 2010), 99–147.
Il Cronologo e il Segretario di Terra Santa. Narcyz Klimas, O.F.M. Antonianum,
LXXXV (Apr.–June, 2010), 273–88.
Una decisive ayuda pastoral franciscana: El convento de la Hoz y Sepúlveda.
Antonio Linaje Conde. Archivo Ibero-Americano, LXX (Jan.–Aug., 2010),
255–315.
The Lost Churches of Glassary parish. Rachel Butter. Records of the Scottish
Church History Society, XL (2010), 3–30.
Toward a History of the Portuguese Inquisition. Trends in Modern
Historiography (1974–2009). Giuseppe Marcocci. Revue de l’histoire des
religions, 227 (July–Sept., 2010), 355–94.
Ancient
Ponzio Pilato nella Chiesa antica tra storia, arte e leggenda. Il Codex
Purpureus Rossanensis. Giorgio Otranto. Rivista di Storia e Letteratura
Religiosa, XLV (3, 2009), 495–514.
La paternità di Gregorio nisseno. Lorenzo Dattrino. Lateranum, LXXVI (1,
2010), 41–55.
The Bishop’s Two Bodies: Ambrose and the Basilicas of Milan. Catherine M.
Chin. Church History, 79 (Sept., 2010), 531–55.
Donatist North Africa and the Beginning of Religious Coercion by Christians:
a New Analysis. Matthew Alan Gaumer and Anthony Dupont. La Ciudad
de Dios, CCXXIII (May–Aug., 2010), 445–66.
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203

Augustine’s use of Tradition in the Controversy with Julian of Aeclanum. M.
Lamberigts. Augustiniana, 60 (1–2, 2010), 11–61.
Medieval
Epitaffi tardoantichi e intrecci altomedievali. Osservazioni su tre frammenti
iscritti e scolpiti provenienti dall’abbazia di Novalesa. Marco Aimone.
Bollettino Storico-Bibliografico Subalpino, CVIII (1,2010),115–42,8 plates.
The Council in Trullo Revisited: Ecumenism and the Canon of the Councils.
George Nedungatt, S.J. Theological Studies, 71 (3, 2010), 651–76.
Monasticism and Reform in Book IV of Bede’s ‘Ecclesiastical History of the
English People’. Scott DeGregorio. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 61
(Oct., 2010), 673–87.
Évêques, canons et liturgie face à l’hérésie (Byzance, VIIIIe–XIe siècles).
Benjamin Moulet. Revue Belge de Philologie et d’Histoire, 87 (3–4, 2009),
519–30.
Deux diplômes du IXe siècle pour Saint-Savin. Stéphane Perrault and George
Pon. Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes, 167 (Jan.–June, 2009), 179–95.
Communities and pacta in early medieval Italy: jurisdiction, regulatory authority and dispute avoidance. G. V. B. West. Early Medieval Europe, 18 (Nov.,
2010), 367–93.
Évêché et monastères dans le Gévaudan du haut Moyen Âge. Isabelle Darnas
and Fernand Peloux. Annales du Midi, 122 (July–Sept., 2010), 341–58.
Liturgische Handschriften als Bildquellen? Eine quellenkundliche
Fragestellung, untersucht am Beispiel italienischer Handschriften des 10.
bis frühen 13. Jahrhunderts. Wolfgang Augustyn. Archiv für LiturgieWissenschaft, 51 (1/2, 2009), 3–42.
Fulbert de Chartres et les autorités civiles. Michel Graur. Revue de Droit
Canonique, 57 (2, 2010), 357–87.
„…hoc sacrificium Deo acceptabile“. Der Gottesdienst des Bischofs
Meinwerk von Paderborn (1009–1036) nach dem Zeugnis seiner Vita.
Andreas Odenthal. Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte, 121 (1, 2010), 11–33.
Il ruolo degli eremiti: dalla riforma gregoriana alla riforma cattolica. Mario
Sensi. Lateranum, LXXVI (1, 2010), 73–100.
A Byzantine hagiographical parody: Life of Mary the Younger. Stavroula Constantinou. Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies, 34 (2, 2010), 160–81.
The Public Debate on Clerical Marriage in the Late Eleventh Century. Leidulf
Melve. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 61 (Oct., 2010), 688–706.
At Arm’s Length? On Papal Legates in Normandy (11th and 12th centuries).
Kriston R. Rennie. Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, 105 (Apr.–June, 2010),
331–44.

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Être «hérétique» à Byzance à l’époque des Comnènes. Maria Atanasova. Revue
Belge de Philologie et d’Histoire, 87 (3–4, 2009), 533–41.
The Investiture Contest in Norman England:A Struggle Between St.Anselm of
Canterbury and the Norman Kings: Part II. Michael J. S. Bruno. American
Benedictine Review, 61 (Sept., 2010), 307–24.
La pieve di Sant’Evasio in Casale Monferrato e il suo distretto nel secolo XII.
Giuseppe Vaglio. Bollettino Storico-Bibliografico Subalpino, CVIII (1,
2010), 51–92.
The last years of Herbert the Chamberlain: Weaverthorpe church and hall.
Richard Sharpe. Historical Research, LXXIII (Nov., 2010), 588–601.
Die Anfänge des schwäbischen Prämonstratenserstifts Schussenried. Hubert
Koufen. Analecta Praemonstratensia, LXXXV (2009), 31–48.
Auf der Spur des Kanonikers Marcwardus: Ein liturgisches Reformprogramm
an der Bischofskirche zu Halberstadt im 12. Jahrhundert. Zugleich ein
Beitrag über die Handschrift Stiftung Dome und Schlösser in SachsenAnhalt, Domschatz Halberstadt, Inv.–Nr.471. Patrizia Carmassi. Archiv für
Liturgie-Wissenschaft, 51 (1/2, 2009), 43–65.
Inventing the Gothic Portal: Suger, Hugh of Saint Victor, and the Construction
of a New Public Art at Saint-Denis. Conrad Rudolph. Art History, 33 (Sept.,
2010), 568–95.
La triple conversion d’Aelred de Rievaulx. Regard méditatif sur l’itinéraire
intérieur d’un saint. Marie-Benoît Bernard. Collectanea Cisterciensia, 72
(3, 2010), 265–77.
Making Memories in a Medieval Miscellany. Adam S. Cohen. Gesta, 48 (2,
2009), 135–52.
Der weite Weg von Clarendon nach Canterbury. Neue Überlegungen zu pragmatischen und symbolischen Dimensionen politischen Schrift- und
Ritualhandelns am Beispiel des Becketstreits. Uta Kleine. Historische
Zeitschrift, 290 (June, 2010), 621–79.
The Architectural Sculpture in the Former Norbertine Churches in WroclawO lbin and in Strzelno in the Romanesque Period. Joanna Szcze˛sna.
Analecta Praemonstratensia, LXXXV (2009), 49–72.
Die Anfänge des schwäbischen Prämonstratenserstifts Adelberg. Hubert
Koufen. Analecta Praemonstratensia, LXXXV (2009), 9–30.
“Sweetly Refreshed in Imagination”: Remembering Jerusalem in Words and
Images. Robert Ousterhout. Gesta, 48 (2, 2009), 153–68.
Franziskus von Assisi, Papst Innocenz III. und die römische Kurie im Jahr
1209. Ein folgenreiches Zusammentreffen.Werner Maleczek. Mitteilungen
des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung, 118 (3–4, 2010),
323–43.

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205

Was Paulus Hungarus really Dalmatian? Simon Tugwell, O.P. Archivum
Fratrum Praedicatorum, LXXIX (2009), 5–21.
Franziskus–Restaurator der Portiunkula? Neue Quellendiskussionen über den
Berufungsort des Poverello und die „Wiege“ des Franziskanerordens.
Niklaus Kuster, O.F.M.Cap. Wissenschaft und Weisheit, 73 (1, 2010), 5–55.
Authentische Orte des Franziskus in Millelalter und Früher Neuzeit: Memorialund Legitimationsfunktionen künstlerischer Ausgestaltung. Eckhard
Leuschner. Archiv für Kulturgeschichte, 92 (1, 2010), 47–82.
Allein auf weiter Flur. Das Prämonstratenserinnenkloster Rehna. Johann Peter
Wurm. Analecta Praemonstratensia, LXXXV (2009), 106–20.
Rolando da Cremona (+1259) e gli eretici. Il ruolo dei frati Predicatori tra
escatologismo e profezia. Riccardo Parmeggiani. Archivum Fratrum
Praedicatorum, LXXIX (2009), 23–84.
Did Dominicans practice affiliation in the thirteenth century? I: Two nineteenth-century arguments. Simon Tugwell, O.P. Archivum Fratrum
Praedicatorum, LXXIX (2009), 85–191.
“La familia de fuera”: Aproximación a las clientelas de los monasterios de
clarisas (Córdoba, siglos XIII–XVI). María del Mar Graña Cid. Archivo
Ibero-Americano, LXX (Jan.–Aug., 2010), 317–43.
Les voyages des frères mineurs aux XIIIe, XIVe et XVIe siècles. Leur rapport à
la culture d’autrui. Bernard Forthomme. Il Santo, L (1, 2010), 7–53.
La recuperación y el olvido. La Cruzada más allá de la Tierra Santa. Antonio
García Espada. Jerónimo Zurita. Revista de Historia, 84 (2009), 233–46.
The Politics of Burial in Late Medieval Hereford. Ian Forrest. English
Historical Review, CXXV (Oct., 2010), 1110–38.
Iacopone da Todi: «Nova et vetera». Silvestro Nessi. Il Santo, L (1, 2010), 55–93.
Mediated Piety: Eucharistic Theology and Lay Devotion in Robert Mannyng’s
Handlyng Synne. Jennifer Garrison. Speculum, 85 (Oct., 2010), 894–922.
Il problema della discendenza dei moderni templari dall’antico Ordine del
Tempio: una breve nota storico-giuridica sulla bolla «Vox in excelso» (22
marzo 1312). Ciro Tammaro. Studia Monastica, 50 (2, 2008), 239–54.
Politics or Piety: Locating Simone Martini’s Saint Louis of Toulouse
Altarpiece. Diana Norman. Art History, 33 (Sept., 2010), 596–619.
Il registro di un inquisitore. Davide Alzetta. Studi Medievali, LI (June, 2010),
213–62.
Els primers monestirs de jerònims a la Corona d’Aragó (1374–1414). Jaume
Riera i Sans. Studia Monastica, 50 (2, 2008), 275–344.
Apocalyptic Lollards?: The Conservative Use of the Book of Daniel in the
English Wycliffite Sermons. Bracy V. Hill, II. Church History & Religious
Culture, 90 (Mar., 2010), 1–23.

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United or Bound by Death? A Case Study on Group Identity and Textual
Communities within the Devotio Moderna. Bas Diemel and Jeroen
Deploige. Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, 105 (Apr.–June, 2010), 346–78.
La rencontre de saint Vincent Ferrier et de sainte Colette de Corbie. PaulBernard Hodel, O.P. Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, LXXIX (2009),
193–219.
La violation des décrets conciliaires ou l’hérésie du pape: le procès d’Eugène
IV (1431–1447) au concile de Bâle d’après le manuscript latin 1511 de la
Bibliothèque nationale de France. Émilie Rosenblieh. Revue Belge de
Philologie et d’Histoire, 87 (3–4, 2009), 545–67.
A Medical Scholasticus and Renaissance Choirmaster: A Portrait of John
Hothby at Lucca. Benjamin Brand. Renaissance Quarterly, LXIII (Fall,
2010), 754–806.
San Diego de Alcalá y su Capilla Real. Hipólito Barriguín Fernández. Archivo
Ibero-Americano, LXX (Jan.–Aug., 2010), 357–90.
Rentas de la iglesia de Toledo en el periodo 1495–1502. José García Oro and
María José Portela Silva. Archivo Ibero-Americano, LXX (Jan.–Aug., 2010),
5–254.
Sixteenth Century
The Parish in Its Landscapes: Pilgrimage Processions in the Archdeaconry of
Blois, 1500–1700. Eric Nelson. French History, 24 (3, 2010), 318–40.
“One does not live by bread alone”: Rural Reform and Village Political
Strategies after the Peasants’ War. Christopher W. Close. Church History,
79 (Sept., 2010), 556–84.
Correspondencia epistolar inèdita entre fray Bartolomé de Trespaderne y fray
Alonso de Toro (1536–1541). Ernesto Zaragoza Pascual. Studia Monastica,
50 (2, 2008), 345–410.
La visione della Storta di sant’Ignazio. Jacques Servais. Gregorianum, 91 (3,
2010), 526–49.
L’élection du sacerdoce aux origines de la Compagnie de Jésus. Amaury
Begasse de Dhaem. Gregorianum, 91 (3, 2010), 550–72.
A Calvinist Heritage to the “Curse of Ham”:Assessing the Accuracy of a Claim
about Racial Subordination. David Whitford. Church History & Religious
Culture, 90 (Mar., 2010), 25–45.
The Collar belongs to San Cayetano. Philip Wrench. Regnum Dei, LXIV
(Jan.–Dec., 2008), 69–97.
L’ «uomo scaltro» e il «vescovo mascherato»: Celio Secondo Curione, Pietro
Paolo Vergerio e l’Epistola de morte Pauli III (1549). Lucio Biasiori.
Bibliothèque d’Humanisme et Renaissance, LXXII (2, 2010), 385–96.

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207

Prophets, Saints, and Matriarchs: Portraits of Old Women in Early Modern Italy.
Erin J. Campbell. Renaissance Quarterly, LXIII (Fall, 2010), 807–49.
Preaching the Gospel through Love of Neighbour:The Ministry of Katharina
Schütz Zell. Charlotte Methuen. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 61
(Oct., 2010), 707–28.
Catholic Treason Trials in Elizabethan England: Complexities and Ambiguities
in the Stage Management of a Public Show: The Care of William Parry.
Photini Danou. Journal of Early Modern History, 14 (5, 2010), 393–415.
Invisible Helpers: Angelic Intervention in Post-Reformation England.
Alexandra Walsham. Past & Present, 208 (1, 2010), 77–130.
L’eredità di Cristoforo Madruzzo. Il testamento e l’inventario dei beni.
Alessandro Paris. Annali dell’Istituto storico italo-germanico in Trento,
XXXV (2009), 361–461.
Fonti per la storia di una città barocca: I Teatini leccesi dalla fondazione
(1586) all’inchiesta innocenziana (1649). Mario Cazzato. Regnum Dei,
LXIV (Jan.–Dec., 2008), 5–67.
Die Leichenrede des Jesuiten Johannes Vivarius auf den Nuntius Ottavio
Santacroce (†1581). Alexander Koller. Mitteilungen des Instituts für
Österreichische Geschichtsforschung, 118 (3–4, 2010), 395–414.
The Scottish Presbyterian Movement in 1596. Julian Goodare. Canadian
Journal of History, 45 (Spring–Summer, 2010), 21–48.
The Seventeenth-Century ‘Lives’ of Edmund Gennings (1566–91).Alison Shell.
Recusant History, 30 (Oct., 2010), 213–27.
Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries
Matteo Ricci and the Chinese: Spaces of Encounter Between the Self and the
Other. Nicolas Standaert. Euntes Docete, LXIII (1, 2010), 101–21.
Pontoise, la Ligue et le Carmel: la mystique au service de l’union politique
autour de l’année 1605. Stéphane-Marie Morgain. Revue de l’histoire des
religions, 227 (July–Sept., 2010), 335–54.
Les chœurs dans la tragédie religieuse de la première moitié du XVII e siècle.
André Blanc. XVIIe Siècle, 62 (3, 2010), 515–30.
Libelos, pasquines y memoriales antidominicanos en la Valencia del
Seiscientos. Emilio Callado Estrela. Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum,
LXXIX (2009), 221–52.
Los 205 beatos mártires de Japón. José Delgado García, O.P. Studium, L (1,
2010), 25–91.
Mary Ward in Her Own Writings. Sr. Patricia Harriss, C.J. Recusant History, 30
(Oct., 2010), 229–39.

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Profesores de matemáticas en los colegios de la Compañía de España,
1620–1767. Agustín Udías, S.J. Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu,
LXXIX (Jan.–June, 2010), 3–27.
The Covenanting north of Scotland, 1638–1647. Barry Robertson. Innes
Review, 61 (Spring, 2010), 24–51.
La scienza sperimentale in Jean Joseph Surin, S.J. Francesco Asti. Archivum
Historicum Societatis Iesu, LXXIX (Jan.–June, 2010), 45–86.
Jansénisme et gallicanisme épiscopal dans les assemblées du clergé au milieu
du XVIIe siècle. Takeshi Koda. XVII e Siècle, 62 (3, 2010), 467–77.
I primi bollandisti alla scoperta delle biblioteche romane (1660–1661). Robert
Godding. Gregorianum, 91 (3, 2010), 583–95.
Rancé et l’héritage trappiste (2). Alban John Krailsheimer. Collectanea
Cisterciensia, 72 (3, 2010), 278–303.
L’empire thomiste dans les querelles doctrinales de l’âge classique. Le statut
théologique de saint Thomas d’Aquin au XVIIe siècle. Sylvio Hermann De
Franceschi. XVIIe Siècle, 62 (2, 2010), 313–34.
Defenders of the Mystery.Anne B. Gardiner. Recusant History, 30 (Oct., 2010),
241–60.
Henry Neville and the toleration of Catholics during the Exclusion Crisis.
Gaby Mahlberg. Historical Research, LXXIII (Nov., 2010), 617–34.
Une “manière” de prêcher. Rhétorique et sainteté chez Claude la Colombière.
William P. O’Brien, S.J. Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu, LXXIX
(Jan.–June, 2010), 127–71.
Le lumignon huguenot au siècle des Lumières. Hubert Bost. Etudes
Théologiques & Religieuses, 85 (2, 2010), 167–83.
Terror and intrigue: the secret life of Glasgow’s Episcopalians, 1689–1733.
Roger Edwards. Records of the Scottish Church History Society, XL (2010),
31–67.
Aproximación a la historia de la Venerable Hermandad y Orden Tercera
Servita de Sevilla (Siglos XVIII, XIX y XX). Francisco Javier Monclova
González. Isidorianum, XIX (No. 37, 2010), 109–44.
L’impossible alliance: l’ambassade extraordinaire du cardinal D’Estrées à
Venise (janv.–avr. 1701). Benoît Maréchaux. XVIIe Siècle, 62 (2, 2010),
291–312.
‘Mr. Wesley’s Business’: dissenters, debt and distress in 1705. W. Gibson.
Historical Research, LXXIII (Nov., 2010), 635–48.
Fides et Ratio: An Early Enlightenment Defence of Non-confessional Religion
by Poiret and his Circle. Henri Adrien Krop. Church History & Religious
Culture, 90 (Mar., 2010), 47–67.

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209

Cartagena-Argel: una redención de cautivos en 1713.Trintarios y Mercedarios
en Berbería. Francisco Henares Díaz. Carthaginensia, XXVI (Jan.–June,
2010), 107–31.
The Cathedral of SS Peter and Paul. Lindsey Hughes. Slavonic and East
European Review, 88 (Jan.–Apr., 2010), 25–47.
Le lauree in teologia conseguite dal clero diocesano presso il Collegio S.
Tommaso d’Aquino di Napoli dal 1718 al 1766. Michele Miele, O.P.
Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, LXXIX (2009), 253–87.
‘Learned Lumber’: the Unlikely Survival of Sacred History in the Eighteenth
Century. R. J. Arnold. English Historical Review, CXXV (Oct., 2010),
1139–72.
Le Symbole d’un Laïque: il ‘catechismo repubblicano’ di Thomas Gordon.
Giovanni Tarantino. Rivista Storica Italiana, CXXII (Aug., 2010), 386–464.
Cruzada Española en Vietnam. Mártires Annamitas. Francisco Gainza, O.P., and
Fidel Villarroel, O.P. Philippiniana Sacra, XLV (Sept.–Dec., 2010), 749–58.
Hymns to Hanover: Presbyterians, the Pretender and the failure of the ’45.
Jeffrey Stephen. Records of the Scottish Church History Society, XL
(2010), 69–114.
Religion and Enlightenment in Eighteenth-Century Russia: Father Platon at
the Court of Catherine II. Elise Kimerling Wirtschafter. Slavonic and East
European Review, 88 (Jan.–Apr., 2010), 180–203.
Destino de las Temporalidades de los Jesuitas en Galicia, tras su expulsión de
España por el rey Carlos III. José Ramón Hernández Figueiredo.
Compostellanum, LIV (Jan.–June, 2010), 149–94.
Parish apprenticeship and the old poor law in London. Alysa Levene.
Economic History Review, 63 (Nov., 2010), 915–41.
Curiosità intellettuale e ortodossia conservatrice in Vincenzo Gregorio
Lavazzoli, un domenicano nella Napoli del ’700. Gerardo Ruggiero.
Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, LXXIX (2009), 289–342.
Sopra una lode dell’Ordine Teatino: il Panegirico del Beato Giovanni Marinoni
del gesuita Giambattista Roberti. Giovanni Battista Sandonà. Regnum Dei,
LXIV (Jan.–Dec., 2008), 99–190.
Catholicism, Apostasy and Politics in Late Eighteenth-Century England: The
Case of Sir Thomas Gascoigne and Charles Howard, Earl of Surrey.
Alexander Lock. Recusant History, 30 (Oct., 2010), 275–98.
Eine antifranzösische Parodie des Dies irae aus dem Ende des 18.
Jahrhunderts. Thomas Haye. Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte, 121 (1,
2010), 34–41.

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Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries
A burnt-over district? Lay Evangelism in Aberdeen 1800–1900. Derek B.
Murray. Records of the Scottish Church History Society, XL (2010),
137–57.
Nun apothecaries and the impact of the Secularization in Southwest
Germany. Janine Christina Maegraith. Continuity and Change, 25 (2,
2010), 313–44.
L’atteggiamento dei francescani verso I’Islam dell’ultimo Impero Ottomano.
Giuseppe Buffon, O.F.M. Antonianum, LXXXV (Jan.–Mar., 2010), 19–44.
Ecclesiology, Authority and the Scotch Baptists: The Role of Archibald
McLean. Cullen T. Clark. Records of the Scottish Church History Society, XL
(2010), 115–36.
L’essor de l’ethno-théologie et le déclin de la conscience eschatologique de
l’Église orthodoxe à la veille de la guerre de l’Indépendance grecque de
1821. Lambros Kamperidis. Istina, LV (Jan.–Mar., 2010), 41–60.
Trinitarisches Menschenbild und christliche Heilsgeschichte in der
Anthropologie der Romantik am Beispiel Johann Michael Leupoldts. Stefan
Schweizer. Archiv für Kulturgeschichte, 92 (1, 2010), 109–63.
Frédéric Ozanam, Catholic Student (1831–1836). Jean-Claude Caron.Trans. by
Samantha Mowry with Edward R. Udovic, C.M. Vincentian Heritage, 30 (1,
2010), 29–48.
Faith, Charity, Justice, and Civic Learning:The Lessons and Legacy of Frédéric
Ozanam. Raymond L. Sickinger. Vincentian Heritage, 30 (1, 2010), 81–106.
A Tale of Two Cities: John Henry Newman and the Church of the Catacombs.
Wendel W. Meyer. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 61 (Oct., 2010),
746–63.
Strauss’s Life of Jesus: Publication and the Politics of the German Public
Sphere. Erik Linstrum. Journal of the History of Ideas, 71 (Oct., 2010),
593–616.
Allegations of Convent Violence, the Campaign against Sisterhoods in
Victorian England, and the Response of Parliament. Rene Kollar, O.S.B.
Studia Monastica, 50 (2, 2008), 255–73.
“Landlouping Students of Divinity”: Scottish Presbyterians in German
Theology Faculties, c. 1840 to 1914. Todd Statham. Zeitschrift für
Kirchengeschichte, 121 (1, 2010), 42–67.
New wine in old calabashes? The Akuapem case 1843–1874. Ulrike Sill.
Theologische Zeitschrift, 66 (2, 2010), 163–84.
Holy Orders: Nehemiah Goreh’s Ordination Ordeal and the Problem of ‘Social
Distance’ in Nineteenth-Century North Indian Anglicanism. Richard Fox
Young. Church History & Religious Culture, 90 (Mar., 2010), 69–88.

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211

Professors versus Tutors: Pusey and Vaughan at Oxford. Michael Keating.
Newman Studies Journal, 7 (Fall, 2010), 55–74.
Aux origines de l’Église arménienne catholique de Jérusalem. Sossie Andézian.
Archives de Sciences Sociales des Religions, 151 (July–Sept., 2010), 47–68.
Rebuilding the archdiocese of Nidaros: Etienne Djunkowsky and the North
Pole Mission, c. 1855–1870. Andrew G. Newby. Innes Review, 61 (Spring,
2010), 52–75.
We have an anchor that keeps the soul: religious observance on Glasgow’s
Anchor line and other Scottish emigrant ships, 1870–1900. Andrew T. N.
Muirhead. Records of the Scottish Church History Society, XL (2010),
159–84.
Le cardinal Henry Edward Manning et la Question Romaine 1875–1877.
Jacqueline Clais-Girard. Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, 105 (Apr.–June,
2010), 381–91.
Conventual Franciscans and the Common Life (I). Prelude to the General
Chapter of 1891.Timothy Kulbicki, O.F.M.Conv. Miscellanea Francescana,
110 (I–II, 2010), 85–112.
History versus Hagiography: The Reception of Turner’s Newman. Simon
Skinner. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 61 (Oct., 2010), 764–81.
Pietro Balestra (1841–1912) francescano e vescovo. Gian Luigi Bruzzone. Il
Santo, L (1, 2010), 119–38.
La situación de la enseñanza en los colegios de religiosas de Sevilla, a finales
del siglo XIX, según el informe Spinola. Miguel Ángel Agea Amador.
Isidorianum, XIX (No. 37, 2010), 145–54.
Faith and Value: Heinrich Rickert’s Theory of Religion. Benjamin Crowe.
Journal of the History of Ideas, 71 (Oct., 2010), 617–36.
Oscott in Oxford—Lost Opportunity or Misguided Pipe Dream? John Sharp.
Recusant History, 30 (Oct., 2010), 321–41.
Prelates at War: Cardinal Bourne, Bishop Ward and the St. Edmund’s College
Cadet Corps Dispute. Stewart Foster. Recusant History, 30 (Oct., 2010),
343–78.
Per una ricostruzione critica della biografia su fra Nicola da Gesturi
(1882–1958). Salvatore Vacca. Laurentianum, 51 (1–2, 2010), 3–30.
Fra Nicola Medda da Gesturi alla scuola della santità laicale nell’Ordine dei
Cappuccini.Vincenzo Criscuolo. Laurentianum, 51 (1–2, 2010), 31–48.
A “Third way” Catholic Intellectual: Charles Du Bos, Tragedy, and Ethics in
Interwar Paris. Katherine Jane Davies. Journal of the History of Ideas, 71
(Oct., 2010), 637–59.
Our Lady of Guanganmen. Jeremy Clarke, S.J. Religion and the Arts, 14 (4,
2010), 386–400.

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Hilaire Belloc, Gilbert and Cecil Chesterton and the Making of Distributism.
Race Mathews. Recusant History, 30 (Oct., 2010), 299–319.
El Privilegio español de presentación de obispos a la luz del concilio Vaticano
II. Carlos Nieto Sánchez. Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, 105 (Apr.–June,
2010), 393–405.
Missions vaticanes et missions de rapatriement (France-Allemagne, 17 janvier
1944–28 août 1947). Catherine Poujol. Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique,
105 (Apr.–June, 2010), 407–45.
D. P. Thomson and the Orkney Expedition: a Tell Scotland case study. Frank
Bardgett. Records of the Scottish Church History Society, XL (2010),
185–227.
Renouveau monastique et historiographie chrétienne en Syrie.Anna Poujeau.
Archives de Sciences Sociales des Religions, 151 (July–Sept., 2010),
129–46.
American
Dutch Contributions to Religious Toleration. Jeremy Dupertuis Bangs. Church
History, 79 (Sept., 2010), 585–613.
Religion, Politics, and Witchcraft in Bermuda, 1651–55. Virginia Bernhard.
William and Mary Quarterly, LXVII (Oct., 2010), 677–708.
“Baptism Doth Not Bestow Freedom”: Missionary Anglicanism, Slavery, and
the Yorke-Talbot Opinion, 1701–30. Travis Glasson. William and Mary
Quarterly, LXVII (Apr., 2010), 279–318.
Pursuing Happiness in Colonial Virginia: Sacred Words, Cheap Print, and
Popular Religion in the Eighteenth Century. Jacob M. Blosser. Virginia
Magazine, 118 (3, 2010), 210–45.
“Whatever Diversity of Shade May Appear”: Catholic Women Religious
Educators in Louisiana, 1727–1862. Donna Porche-Frilot and Petra Munro
Hendry. Catholic Southwest, 21 (2010), 34–62.
Anglo-Scottish Union and John Witherspoon’s American Revolution. Gideon
Mailer. William and Mary Quarterly, LXVII (Oct., 2010), 709–46.
Remedial Agents: Missionary Physicians and the Depopulation of Hawaii. Seth
Archer. Pacific Historical Review, 79 (Nov., 2010), 513–44.
“You Have Been Very Thoughtful Today”: The Significance of Gratitude and
Reciprocity in Missionary-Hawaiian Gift Exchange. Jennifer Thigpen.
Pacific Historical Review, 79 (Nov., 2010), 545–72.
Scripture in the Pastoral Letters of the Provincial Councils of Baltimore. Eric
Vanden Eykel. American Catholic Studies, 121 (Fall, 2010), 55–79.
Wilhelm Loehe: American Lutheranism’s Distant Father. John Hellwege.
Concordia Historical Institute Quarterly, 83 (Spring, 2010), 2–17.

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213

Concordia Historical Institute’s Museum: A Noble Adjunct to Lutheran
Archives. Scott Meyer. Concordia Historical Institute Quarterly, 83
(Summer, 2010), 88–105.
Horace Bushnell among the Metaphysicians. Catherine L. Albanese. Church
History, 79 (Sept., 2010), 614–53.
Roger B. Taney and the Slavery Issue: Looking beyond—and before—Dred
Scott.Timothy S. Huebner. Journal of American History, 97 (June, 2010),
17–38.
The Parochial Enterprise: Financing the Institutional Growth in the Brickand-Mortar Era.Thomas F. Rzeznik. American Catholic Studies, 121 (Fall,
2010), 1–24.
The Gospel Wagon of Father Boniface Spanke, O.S.B. Jerome Kodell, O.S.B.
American Benedictine Review, 61 (Sept., 2010), 257–85.
Courage Under Fire: St. Katharine Drexel and the Sisters of the Blessed
Sacrament Confront the Texas Ku Klux Klan. Richard Fossey and Stephanie
Morris. Catholic Southwest, 21 (2010), 7–22.
The Radio Ministries of the Pacific Southwest District. Michael Doyle.
Concordia Historical Institute Quarterly, 83 (Summer, 2010), 66–87.
The Duke, Divine Comedy, and Discipline at St. Benedict’s Prep, 1905–1972.
Thomas A. McCabe. American Catholic Studies, 121 (Fall, 2010), 25–54.
The Realist-Pacifist Summit Meeting of March 1942 and the Political
Reorientation of Ecumenical Protestantism in the United States. David A.
Hollinger. Church History, 79 (Sept., 2010), 654–77.
A Catholic Negro Child in the Segregated South of the 1950s and 1960s: A
Postmodern Retrospective on St. Katharine Drexel’s Mission in New
Orleans. Collette Madeleine Bloom. Catholic Southwest, 21 (2010), 23–33.
The Catholic Church and Desegration in the Diocese of Baton Rouge,
1961–1976. Mark Newman. Louisiana History, LI (Summer, 2010), 306–32.
Women Religious as Architectural Patrons: Three Case Studies—One
Franciscan and Two Benedictine. Geoffrey Simmins. American Benedictine Review, 61 (Sept., 2010), 225–56.
Latin American
Existe um catolicismo de base leiga? História do laicato na América Latina e
no Caribe (1498–1955). Sávio Carlos Desan Scopinho. Revista Eclesiástica
Brasileira, 70 (July, 2010), 602–27.
Teorías de Indios: los origines de los pueblos del continente americano y la
Biblia Poliglota de Amberes (1568–1573). Isaias Lerner. Colonial Latin
American Review, 19 (Aug., 2010), 231–45.

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Morir como Dios manda. Religiosidad Popular y Devociones en los
Testamentos de la Mendoza Colonial. Alba Acevedo and Sandra Pérez
Stocco. Revista de Historia Americana y Argentina, Third Period, No. 44
(2009), 51–70.
Presencia franciscana y formación intercultural en el sudeste de Bolivia, según
documentos del archivo franciscano de Tarija (1606–1936). Lorenzo
Calzavarini, O.F.M., and Manuel Gómez. Archivo Ibero-Americano, LXX
(Jan.–Aug., 2010), 391–430.
La Virgen como territorio: los títulos primordiales de Santa María Nueva
España. Jaime Cuadriello. Colonial Latin American Review, 19 (Aug.,
2010), 69–113.
Heilkunde und Mission—Zum Quellenwert der Heilpflanzenkompendien aus
der Jesuitenprovinz Paraguay. Fabian Fechner. Archivum Historicum
Societatis Iesu, LXXIX (Jan.–June, 2010), 89–113.

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED

Ælred of Rievaulx. Spiritual Friendship. Translated by Lawrence C. Braceland,
S.J. Edited and Introduced by Marsha L. Dutton. [Cistercian Fathers Series,
no. 5.] (Collegeville, MN: Cistercian Publications. Liturgical Press. 2010. Pp.
160. $19.95 paperback.) In her forty-eight-page introduction Marsha
Dutton gives the historical background of St. Ælred’s treatise as well as its
publication history.
Aquilina, Mike. Roots of the Faith: From the Church Fathers to You.
(Cincinnati: Servant Books, an imprint of St. Anthony Messenger Press.
2010. Pp. xviii, 142. $13.99 paperback.)
Bartoli, Marco. Saint Clare: Beyond the Legend. Translated by Sister Frances
Teresa Downing, O.S.C. (Cincinnati: St. Anthony Messenger Press. 2010. Pp.
xx, 154. $14.95 paperback.) A translation of Chiara: Una donna tra silenzio e memoria, published by Edizioni San Paolo in 2003.
Bellabarba, Marco, and Jan Paul Niederkorn (Eds.). Le corti come luogo di
comunicazione: Gli Asburgo e l’Italia (secoli XVI–XIX). Höfe als Orte der
Kommunikation: Die Habsburger und Italien (16. bis 19. Jahrhundert).
[Fondazione Bruno Kessler–Annali dell’Istituto storico italo-germanico in
Trento, Contributi, 23.] (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot; Bologna: Società
editrice il Mulino. 2010. Pp. 306. €23,00 paperback.) Among the fifteen
articles published in this volume are “Graz-Florenz. Der Grazer Nuntius als
Informant für den Großherzog der Toskana,” by Elisabeth Zingerle (pp.
61–74), and “Pietà ed eloquenza. Ecclesiastici italiani alla corte imperiale
tra Sei- e Settecento,” by Elisabeth Garms-Cornides (pp. 95–122).
Beyer, Gerald J. Recovering Solidarity: Lessons from Poland’s Unfinished
Revolution. (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press. 2010. Pp. x, 324.
$40.00 paperback.)
Coolman, Boyd Taylor, and Dale M. Coulter (Eds.). Trinity and Creation: A
Selection of Works of Hugh, Richard and Adam of St Victor. [Victorine
Texts in Translation: Exegesis,Theology and Spirituality from the Abbey of
St Victor, 1.] (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols Publishers. 2010. Pp. 428.
€60,00.) The works here translated are “On the Three Days” and “Sentences
on Divinity” by Hugh of St. Victor, “Sequences” by Adam of St. Victor, and
“On the Trinity” by Richard of St.Victor.
Edmisten, Karen. Through the Year with Mary: 365 Reflections. (Cincinnati:
Servant Books. 2010. Pp. x, 134. $12.99 paperback.)
215

216

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED

Finn, Daniel K. (Ed.). The True Wealth of Nations: Catholic Social Thought
and Economic Life. (New York: Oxford University Press. 2010. Pp. xviii,
380. $35.00 paperback.)
Geary, Patrick J. (Ed.). Readings in Medieval History. Fourth ed. (Toronto:
University of Toronto Press. 2010. Pp. xiv, 812. $59.95 paperback.)
Gerrish, B. A. Thinking with the Church: Essays in Historical Theology.
(Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing. 2010. Pp. xxvi, 288.
$25.00 paperback.)
Green, James N. We Cannot Remain Silent: Opposition to the Brazilian
Military Dictatorship in the United States. [Radical Perspectives: A
Radical History Review book series.] (Durham, NC: Duke University Press.
2010. Pp. xvi, 450. $26.95 paperback.)
Heckel, Johannes. Lex Charitatis: A Juristic Disquisition on Law in the
Theology of Martin Luther. Translated and edited by Gottfried G. Krodel.
[Emory University Studies in Law and Religion.] (Grand Rapids, MI:William
B. Eerdmans Publishing. 2010. Pp. xxiv, 288. $35.00 paperback.) A translation of Lex charitatis. Eine juristische Untersuchung über das Recht in
der Theologie Martin Luthers, 2nd ed. expanded, edited by Gottfried G.
Krodel and published by Verlag Böhlau in Cologne in 1973.
Herrera, R. A. Mystics in Spite of Themselves: Four Saints and the World’s
They Didn’t Leave. (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing.
2010. Pp. viii, 124. $12.99 paperback.) The four mystics are St. Augustine,
St. Gregory the Great, St.Anselm of Canterbury, and Ramon Llull.
Lejeune, Marcel. Set Free to Love: Lives Changed by the Theology of the Body.
(Cincinnati: Servant Books. 2010. Pp. xxi, 88. $11.99 paperback.)
Magocsi, Paul Robert. A History of Ukraine:The Land and Its Peoples. Second
ed. (Toronto: University of Toronto Press. 2010. Pp. xxviii, 894. $54.95
paperback.) Originally published in 1996.
Mannermaa, Tuomo. Two Kinds of Love: Martin Luther’s Religious World.
Translated, edited, and introduced by Kirsi I. Stjerna. Afterword by
Juhani Forsberg. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press. 2010. Pp. xviii, 126. $19.00
paperback.)
McGovern,Thomas J. Generations of Priests. (Dublin: Open Air, an imprint of
Four Courts Press. Distrib. in the United States by ISBS, Portland, OR. 2010.
Pp. 456. $30.00.) Separate chapters are devoted to the following: St. John
Chrysostom, St. John Fisher, St. Oliver Plunkett, The Curé of Ars (St. JeanMarie Vianney), Blessed Cardinal John Henry Newman, Archbishop John
Baptist Lamy, St. Pius X, Blessed Clement von Galen, St. Josemaría Escrivá
de Balaguer, and Pope John Paul II.

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED

217

Médaille, John C. Toward a Truly Free Market: A Distributist Perspective on
the Role of Government, Taxes, Health Care, Deficits, and More. [Culture
of Enterprise Series.] (Wilmington, DE: Intercollegiate Studies Institute.
2010. Pp. vi, 282. $26.95.)
Megged,Amos. Social Memory in Ancient and Colonial Mesoamerica. (New
York: Cambridge University Press. 2010. Pp. xvi, 342. $99.00.)
Minns, Denis. Irenaeus:An Introduction. (New York: Continuum. 2010. Pp. xiv,
178. $29.95 paperback.) Originally published in 1994 by Geoffrey
Chapman in the series Outstanding Christian Thinkers. It is “an introduction to the theology of Irenaeus, not an introduction to all the various
problems associated with the study of his writings” (p. x).
Mossa, Mark, S.J. Already There: Letting God Find You. (Cincinnati: St.Anthony
Messenger Press. 2010. Pp. xxiv, 147. $14.99 paperback.)
Nubola, Cecilia, and Andreas Würgler (Eds.). Ballare col nemico?: Reazioni
all’espansione francese in Europa tra entusiasmo e resistenza
(1792–1815). Mit dem Feind tanzen?: Reaktionen auf die französische
Expansion in Europa zwischen Begeisterung und Protest (1792–1815).
[Fondazione Bruno Kessler–Annali dell’Istituto storico italo-germanico in
Trento, Contributi, 23.] (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot; Bologna: Società
editrice il Mulino. 2010. Pp. 306. €23,00.)
Orsi, Robert Anthony. The Madonna of 115th Street: Faith and
Community in Italian Harlem, 1880–1950. Third Ed. (New Haven:Yale
University Press. 2010. Pp. lxix, 288. $19.00 paperback.) The first edition
was published in 1985.This third edition contains a new eighteen-page
introduction.
Pera, Isabella. Le diverse anime della D.C. di primo Novecento: Un inedito di
Don Carlo Grugni in risposta a Ernesto Vercesi (1910). [Fondazione
Romolo Murri. Ricuperi 16.] (Urbino: Quattro Venti Srl. 2010. Pp. 123.
€24,00 paperback.)
Podolak, Pietro. Soranos von Ephesos, ⌸␧␳`␫ ␺␷␹ˆ
␩␵. Sammlung der
Testimonien, Kommentar und Einleitung. Unter der Mitarbeit von Jan
Erik Heßler. [Beiträge zur Altertumskunde, Band 279.] (New York: de
Gruyter. 2010. Pp. ix, 193. $124.00.)
Rasmussen, Anne K. Women, the Recited Qur’an, and Islamic Music in
Indonesia. (Berkeley: University of California Press. 2010. Pp. xx, 312.
$29.95 paperback, $55.00 clothbound.)
Rousseau, Philip. Ascetics, Authority, and the Church: In the Age of Jerome
and Cassian. Second Edition. (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame
Press. 2010. Pp. xxxviii, 278. $30.00 paperback.) The first edition was published in 1978 and reviewed by Abbot John Eudes Bamberger, O.C.S.O.,
ante, 66 (1980), 584–85.

218

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED

Sattamini, Lina Penna. A Mother’s Cry: A Memoir of Politics, Prison, and
Torture under the Brazilian Military Dictatorship. Edited and introduced
by James N. Green. Translated by Rex P. Nielson and James N. Green.
Epilogue by Marcos P. S. Arrunda. (Durham, NC: Duke University Press.
2010. Pp. xviii, 188. $74.95 hardcover; $21.95 softcover.)
Stephenson, Barry. Performing the Reformation: Public Ritual in the City of
Luther. [Oxford Ritual Studies.] (New York: Oxford University Press. 2010.
Pp. xii, 232. $24.95 paperback.) A field-based case study of contemporary
festivity and pilgrimage in Wittenberg. A DVD showing parades and processions, liturgies and concerts, music, and dance is included.
Taylor, Larissa Juliet. The Virgin Warrior: The Life and Death of Joan of Arc.
(New Haven:Yale University Press. 2010. Pp. xxvi, 252. $20.00 paperback.)
Originally published in 2009 and reviewed by Nadia Margolis, ante, 96
(2010), 801–02.
Traldi, Francesca. Verso Bad Godesberg: La socialdemocrazia e le scienze
sociali di fronte alla nuova società tedesca (1945–1963). [Annali
dell’Istituto storico italo-germanico in Trento, Monografie, 56.] (Bologna:
Società editrice il Mulino. 2010. Pp. 234. €19,00 paperback.)
Wolf, Hubert. Pope and Devil: The Vatican’s Archives and the Third Reich.
Translated by Kenneth Kronenberg. (Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of
Harvard University Press. 2010. Pp. viii, 325. $29.95.) The original German
edition, Papst und Teufel: Die Archive des Vatikan und das Dritte Reich,
was reviewed by John Jay Hughes, ante, 96 (2010), 857–59.