Larissa Juliet Taylor
President
The American Catholic Historical Association
2011

The Catholic Historical
Review
VOL. XCVIII

APRIL, 2012

No. 2

JOAN OF ARC, THE CHURCH, AND THE PAPACY,
1429–1920*
BY

LARISSA JULIET TAYLOR

In modern times, Joan of Arc has been depicted as a victim of the
medieval Church, a saint who has been used to justify various and
opposing ideologies, or a feminist icon. The author argues against
oversimplifications, for Joan lived in a political world of intrigue,
court factions, and complex dynastic relationships that provided
the backdrop for her military successes and the cause of her downfall. In her own time, Joan was viewed not as a saint, but first and
foremost as a soldier and leader fighting for the French cause.
Keywords: Charles VII, King; Jeanne d’Arc, Sainte; Joan of Arc, Saint;
Orléans
On this 600th anniversary of the birth of Joan of Arc, probably the
most famous figure in medieval history, I would like to reevaluate her
life and afterlife.“Everyone knows” that Joan of Arc was burned by the
Church and later deemed a saint by it. Two quotations demonstrate
the disparity of views. In a postmodern critique, Françoise Meltzer
contends that “the Church has no power to contain or control her; she
must be excised. . . . In condemning Joan, the Church Militant asserts
and demonstrates its power.”1 Pope Benedict XV declared at her canonization in 1920 that Joan represented “a most brilliantly shining
*Dr.Taylor is professor of history at Colby College, email: ljtaylor@colby.edu. Unless
otherwise noted, the author has provided the English translations throughout.
1
Françoise Meltzer, For Fear of the Fire: Joan of Arc and the Limits of Subjectivity
(Chicago, 2001), pp. 99, 117–18.

217

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JOAN OF ARC, THE CHURCH, AND THE PAPACY, 1429–1920

light of the Church Triumphant.”2 I will argue against the first notion
and at least challenge Joan’s qualifications as a saint in the second,
relying on four sets of documents: the 1431 trial record, the 1450–56
nullification testimonies of more than 100 witnesses from Joan’s
childhood through her battles and the trial, Pope Pius II’s 1461 commentary, and the arguments made by the Devil’s Advocates in the
beatification proceedings of 1869–1909. In my extensive research on
Joan, I have come to admire the strength of character, bold leadership,
and native intelligence that guided her through the minefields of
court life, warfare, and hostile interrogations. But after she defeated
the English in several major battles, Joan became the singular focus of
their anger and fear. A specific, English-controlled church court executed Joan for political and military reasons, although it couched its
decision in religious language. Moreover, her behaviors and actions in
her own time—and how she was viewed then—were very different
from the St. Joan of the modern world.
The complexity of Joan’s relationship with churchmen and others
became evident as soon as she arrived at the court of the future
Charles VII in 1429. Joan likely came to the notice of the court as a
result of the intrigues of the dauphin’s powerful mother-in-law, Queen
Yolande of Aragon, whose son, René of Anjou, was raised in the household of Charles II, duke of Lorraine. Among the few facts we know
from before Joan’s departure from Domremy and Vaucouleurs is that
it was only after meeting with the duke that she was finally given
leave to proceed to Chinon to present her mission to the dauphin,
Charles. On her arrival in February 1429, some of those at the castle
laughed; others called her crazy; and yet others saw a potential means
to stall further English and Burgundian incursions into Armagnac
(French) territory.
Joan encountered enemies in a court divided. On the one side were
Yolande’s followers and, on the other, Charles’s chief advisers—
Georges de la Trémoïlle and Regnault de Chartres, archbishop of
Reims and chancellor of France. Both counselors believed from the
beginning that sending a peasant girl to war was preposterous. In any
case, the French leadership was not about to send an untried girl into
battle, even as a figurehead. So she was sent quietly to Poitiers for the
first of many examinations in her short public career. For the next
three weeks, at least eighteen churchmen interrogated Joan. Regnault
de Chartres presided; and the questioners included the inquisitor of
Toulouse, at least three Dominicans, bishops, professors of theology,

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219

and canon lawyers.3 Unfortunately, we have only the conclusions of
the Poitiers examination. Charles VII’s counselors probably destroyed
the deliberations after Joan’s capture at Compiègne in 1430,4 but we
know some of what transpired thanks to the 1456 nullification testimony of Guillaume Seguin, a Dominican professor of theology. His colorful testimony reveals an impatient and feisty girl, for, when he asked
her what language her voice spoke in,
she responded that it was a better language than his, since he spoke in the
Limousin dialect. He then posed another question, as to whether she
believed in God; she responded yes, and better than he did.Then he said
to Joan that God would not want them to believe in her if nothing was
shown that would make them believe; and that they, as counselors, could
not recommend that the king give her soldiers on her simple affirmations
. . . unless she could give them something more. She said:“In the name of
God, I have not come to Poitiers to give signs; but take me to Orléans, and
I will show you signs.”5

The conclusions were intentionally vague, recommending that the
king neither reject Joan nor believe in her too readily. However,
since they found nothing against her, they suggested that Charles
send her to Orléans to see if she could accomplish what she had
promised. By then, he had nothing to lose. Some notable churchmen, including Archbishop Jacques Gélu of Embrun, who initially
had argued against using Joan, concurred, even on the issue of her
male clothing. Using the traditional medieval inversion of the
“power of the weak,”6 he argued,
2
“… eandem splendidissimum lumen Ecclesiae triumphantis.”Acta Apostolica Sedis,
Commentarium Officiale, Year 1920, 12:227.
3
Deborah A. Fraioli, Joan of Arc: The Early Debate (Woodbridge, UK, 2000), p. 47.
4
Charles T.Wood,“Joan of Arc’s Mission and the Lost Record of Her Interrogation at
Poitiers,”in Fresh Verdicts on Joan of Arc, ed. Bonnie Wheeler and Charles T.Wood (New
York, 1996), pp. 19–30, here pp. 22–23.
5
“Elle lui répondit que c’état un meilleur langage que le sien, le témoin parlant le
limousin. Il lui posa une autre question, à savoir si elle croyait en Dieu; elle répondit oui,
et mieux que le témoin.Alors le témoin dit à Jeanne que Dieu ne voulait pas qu’on crût
en elle, si rien ne monstrait qu’on dût lui faire créance; et qu’eux, conseillers, ne recommanderaient pas au roi de lui confier des hommes d’armes, sur ses simples affirmations
. . . à moins qu’elle n’eût autre chose à avancer. Elle répondit:“En nom Dieu, je ne suis
pas venue à Poitiers pour faire signes; mais menez-moi à Orléans, je vous montrerai les
signes.” Pierre Duparc, trans., Procès en nullité de la condamnation de Jeanne d’Arc
(Paris, 1986), IV:151. Henceforth referred to as Nullité.
6
See, for example, Jennifer Carpenter and Sally-Beth MacLean, eds., Power of the
Weak: Studies on Medieval Women (Urbana, IL, 1995).

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JOAN OF ARC, THE CHURCH, AND THE PAPACY, 1429–1920

if God so desires, He can vanquish by the power of a woman; doing so
confounds human presumption, the pride of those who put their confidence in themselves is brought down, and He chooses the weak to confound the strong.

Gélu insisted that Joan must wear men’s clothing if she were to live
among soldiers.7
The two months after Poitiers and before Joan was sent to Orléans
were not wasted, despite Joan’s impatience. The court recast old
prophecies to fit her, and created and disseminated new ones.8 Joan
was outfitted with armor; had a standard and banner made; and I
believe was trained in horsemanship, fighting, and artillery—skills
that all who saw her remarked upon, stating that although in other
ways she was a simple girl, in matters of war she was like a captain of
twenty or thirty years.9 Marguerite de la Touroulde, wife of one of the
king’s counselors, commented that “she was simple, knowing
absolutely nothing of anything other than deeds of war.”10 Neither the
king’s council nor the Poitiers Conclusions suggest that Joan would
be anything more than a figurehead.Whether or not she heard divine
voices, she had to accomplish two goals: bolster French morale and
frighten the English. She turned out to be so much better than the
court could ever have imagined at both.
Joan soon proved to all around her that she was no figurehead.
Although unversed in strategy, she understood instinctively what
those captains of twenty or thirty years did not and quickly showed
her leadership skills.To use a sports analogy, Joan was like a quarterback who goes with a no-huddle or hurry-up offense, which often is
used to disrupt the defense. Between May and September, Joan
7
“Dieu, qui, s’il le veut, peut vaincre par une femme; humaine présomption est confondue, l’orgueil de ceux qui mettent leur confiance en eux-mêmes est rabaissé, Dieu
choisit ce qui est faible pour confondre ce qui est fort . . . La Pucelle, par sa mission
même, est autorisée à porter des vêtements d’homme. C’est plus convenable. Obligée
de vivre avec des guerriers, elle a dû s’accommoder aux lois de leur discipline.” Jacques
Gélu, in Jean-Baptiste-Josèph Ayroles, ed., La Vraie Jeanne d’Arc (Paris, 1890, repr.
2005), I:42–43, 46.
8
Fraioli, Early Debate, pp. 55–68.
9
See, for example, Jean, duke of Alençon, in Duparc, Nullité, IV:70; Thibauld
d’Armagnac, lord of Thermes, in Duparc, Nullité, IV:85–86; Pierre Milet, in Duparc,
Nullité, IV:90;Aignan Viole, in Duparc, Nullité, IV:91. Most of the chronicles of the time
confirm Joan’s skills as a leader and a soldier.
10
“Jeanne était fort simple et ignorante, ne sachant absolument rien d’autre . . . que
le fait de la guerre.” Marguerite de la Tourolde, in Duparc, Nullité, IV:61.

BY LARISSA JULIET TAYLOR

221

received two arrow wounds, was knocked off a ladder, and stepped
on a spiky trap in the field. Many talked about her skills with artillery.
Whereas even at Orléans other French military leaders were too cautious, frequently consorting with the enemy and exchanging chivalric
gifts,11 Joan was intent on taking the fight to the English. She attacked
when and where she could, without concern for the “rules” that had
often hampered and defeated French armies in times past.
During the one-week siege of Orléans, Joan lashed out at the city’s
bailli, Raoul de Gaucourt, when he tried to prevent an assault on one
of the English bastilles. According to one of the dauphin’s men, Joan
called “Gaucourt a bad man, adding,‘whether you want it or not, the
soldiers will come and they will win.’”12 They did. At the assault on
the English position at Jargeau, when Joan shouted to her comrade,
the future Jean II, duke of Alençon,“Go, gentle duke, to the assault!,”
he responded that it appeared to him that they were acting prematurely. Joan retorted:“Do not hesitate! The time is now when it pleases
God.” She added that “you work and then God will work for you.” A bit
later she said to him, ‘Oh, gentle duke, are you afraid?’”13 When the
courage of those around her faltered, Joan urged her men on, sometimes with jokes and fanciful stories and other times in chastisement,
saying, “Go boldly!” and “By my Martin!” (meaning her baton). Joan
demonstrated her leadership on the battlefield when she defied the
king, his counselors, and some of her fellow captains by allowing
Arthur de Richemont, the exiled constable of France, to join the
French forces at Beaugency to confront an English army coming from
Paris. Her choice resulted in decisive victories, but ultimately it would
cost her dearly at court.
Joan’s motivation may have been divine, but on the battlefield she
showed herself ever eager to fight. Although she claimed to hate
11
For example, on February 22, 1429, the English leaders sent the Bastard of Orléans
“figs, raisins and dates, in return asking for a black velvet robe, which was duly sent.”
Paul Charpentier and Charles Cuissard, eds., Journal du siège d’Orléans, 1428–1429
(Orléans, 1896), p. 53.
12
“Jeanne dit alors au sire de Gaucourt qu’il était un mauvais homme, en ajoutant
‘que vous le vouliez ou non, les hommes d’armes viendront, et ils gagneront…’” Simon
Charles, in Duparc, Nullité, IV:83.
13
“Avant, gentil duc, à l’assaut!” Et, comme il paraissait au témoin qu’on agissait prématurément, en partant si vite à l’assaut, Jeanne lui dit:“N’hésitez pas! L’heure est prête
quand il plaît à Dieu”; elle ajouta qu’il fallait travailler quand Dieu le voulait:“Travaillez
et Dieu travaillera. . . Ah! gentil duc, as-tu peur?” Jean, duke of Alencon, in Duparc,
Nullité, IV:67.

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JOAN OF ARC, THE CHURCH, AND THE PAPACY, 1429–1920

bloodshed, her actions caused both French and English blood to flow.
After taking the town of Jargeau, the village was plundered, and a massacre followed. Although local militiamen may have carried out the
carnage after Joan and the other leaders returned to Orléans, she bore
at least partial responsibility for the outcome. An admittedly hostile
source, the Bourgeois of Paris, states that she motivated her men to
attack Paris on the Feast of the Nativity by promising that she would
take the city “and each soldier would become rich from the city’s
goods and they would put everyone to the sword and burn down all
the houses where they met with any opposition.”14 Could she have
said this? It is not impossible, considering what she wrote in her
famous Letter to the English that was delivered before she arrived in
Orléans. In it, she told the English leadership that if they did not leave
France,“Wherever I find your people in France, I will make them leave
whether they want to or not. And if they do not obey, I will have all
of them killed.”15 Joan was so incensed when the king called off the
siege of Paris after two days that the king’s chronicler and others
reported that she broke the blade of her famous sword of St.
Catherine when she attacked some camp followers. An irate king told
her that she should have used her baton rather than her special
sword.16 When her trial judges asked her whether it was right to
attack Paris on the Feast of the Nativity, she replied flippantly that “it
is good to observe the feasts of Our Lady . . . from beginning to end.”17
She expressed no regrets, although much blood was spilled, especially
on the French side. The failure on September 8, 1430, unavoidable
without treason from within, marked the beginning of the end.
Despite successive victories that cleared the English from the Loire
Valley, in large part due to Joan’s unaccustomed tactics, Charles lagged
behind on the route to his coronation. As he and his counselors
debated whether they should bypass Troyes or besiege it, Joan inter14

“Leur Pucelle. . .leur avait promis. . . tous seraient enrichis des biens de la cité; que
l’on mettrait à l’épée ou que l’on brûlerait dans les maisons tous ceux qui y mettrait
quelque opposition.” Bourgeois of Paris, in Ayroles, Vraie Jeanne, III:521–22.
15
“En quelque lieu que je attaindré vous gens en France, je lez en feray aller, veulhent ou non veulhent; et se ilz ne veullent obéir, je le feré toulx mourir.” Jules Quicherat,
ed., Procès de condemnation et de rehabilitation de Jeanne d’Arc dite La Pucelle
(Paris, 1849),V:95–98.
16
Jean Chartier, in Ayroles, Vraie Jeanne, III:159; duke of Alençon, in Duparc, Nullité,
IV:70.
17
“Respondit quod est bene factum servare festa beate Marie . . . a principio usque
ad finem.” Pierre Tisset and Yvonne Lanhers, eds., Procès de condamnation de Jeanne
d’Arc (Paris, 1960), p. 141. Henceforth referred to as Condamnation.

BY LARISSA JULIET TAYLOR

223

rupted their discussion. She told Charles: “Order your troops to
besiege the city of Troyes without these endless deliberations. In the
name of God, before three days have passed, I will have you enter the
city either by love or by force.”18 Joan entered the trenches to fill
them with branches and straw as she and her men prepared for the
attack, but within three days, the city’s bishop, speaking for the citizens, negotiated its capitulation. The coronation in Reims in July
1429, when Joan stood next to Charles in military garb, proved the
high point of her career.After that, she demonstrated both a sense of
invincibility and an increasing sense of pride as she wore knightly
clothing and accepted costly gifts.19
When the king, his counselors, and even Yolande of Aragon pursued truces with Burgundy, Joan took it upon herself to write to cities
that had surrendered to the French but were now endangered. In
August 1430, she wrote to the citizens of Reims:
I am not at all content with truces like these, and I don’t know if I will hold
to them; if I do so it will only be in order to protect the king’s honor.They
will not abuse the blood royal, because I will hold and maintain the army
of the king together.20

Despite her skills on the battlefield and during her examinations and
trial, Joan came close to committing treason during winter 1430
because of her willfulness.
18

“Ordonnez à vos troupes d’assiéger la ville de Troyes, sans poursuivre de plus
longues délibérations, car, en nom de Dieu, avant trois jours je vous ferai entrer dans
cette cité, par amour ou par puissance et force.” The Bastard of Orléans, in Duparc,
Nullité, IV:9.
19
Charles, duke of Orléans, who was captive in England, had ordered the city’s treasurer to make for Joan a long man’s coat and short surcoat to be worn over armor “in
consideration of the good and useful services the Maid had rendered for us against the
English [using] two ells of fine Brussels crimson for the coat and doublet … and one
ell of dark green for the surcoat … and white satin, sandalwood, and other cloth.”“Ayans
considéracion aux bons et agréables services que ladicte Pucelle nous a faiz à l’encontre des Anglois . . . deux aulnes de fine Brucelle vermeille dont fut faicte ladicte robe
. . . pour la doublure d’icelle … et pour une aulne de vert perdu pour faire ladicte huque
. . . pour la façon desdictes robe et huque, et pour satin blanc, sandal et autre estoffes.”
Quicherat, Procès,V:112–13. For commentary and further discussion about the increasing sumptuousness of Joan’s knightly attire, see Marina Warner, Joan of Arc: The Image
of Female Heroism (Berkeley, 1981), pp. 160–61, 170–73.
20
“Je ne soy point contente et ne sçay si je les tendroy; mais si je les tiens, ce sera
seulement pour garder l’honneur du roy; combien aussy que ilz ne rabuseront point le
sang royal, car je tiendray et maintiendray ensemble l’armée du roy.” Quicherat, Procès,
V:140.

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JOAN OF ARC, THE CHURCH, AND THE PAPACY, 1429–1920

The French victories had caused serious problems for John, duke
of Bedford and regent of France. Desertions and problems obtaining
reinforcements forced him to issue stern warnings,21 and one chronicler insisted that the “renown of Joan the Maid had greatly altered and
weakened English courage.”22 Hostile Burgundian chroniclers write
almost admiringly of her deeds and the fear she inspired.Two are typical. Enguerrand de Monstrelet says that, although the French were
saddened by their loss after Joan’s capture,“the Burgundians and the
English were joyous, more than if they had taken 500 soldiers for they
feared and dreaded no captain or military leader as much as they did
the Maid.”23 Georges Chastellain agreed, stating that
the Maid, surpassing the nature of women, carried out great feats of
combat, and went to great trouble to save her troops from losses, staying
back as their leader and most courageous captain. But fortune dictated that
this would be the end of her glory, her final combat, and that she must no
longer carry weapons.An archer . . . pulled her from her horse by grabbing
her cloth of gold surcoat. . . . [A knight] who pulled her from the ground
was more joyous than if he had captured a king.24
21
In a letter of May 3, 1430, Bedford wrote:“Now they tell us that they tarry in the
city of London, contemptibly and to our great dismay, against the clauses of their contracts, exposing us to a manifest danger. . . . Wanting to put an end to this perversity,
which is scornful of our authority . . . we enjoin you to do as much as you can . . . and
proclaim also that they shall not wait for their equipment, horses or armor.With all possible haste, they will hurry to join us under pain of punishment. . . . All those who have
tarried in London . . . will be seized immediately. . .The desertions continue, causing the
greatest peril.”“Or, l’on nous apprend qu’ils se retardent et tervgiversent dans la cité de
Londres, à notre grave préjudice et mépris . . .Voulant mettre une terme à ce pervers
désordre, qui est un mépris de notre autorité . . . nous vous commandons qu’aussitôt
après la lecture des présentes . . . vous fassiez proclamer . . . de s’y rendre . . . sans rétard
pour leur équipement, l’équipement de leurs chevaux, et leurs harnais; qu’avec toute la
célérité possible, ils se rendent, se hâtent et s’empressent autour de notre personne,
sous peine d’être punis. . . . Tous ceux que vous trouverez ainsi en retard à Londres,
soient immédiatement saisis. . . . Les désertions continuent, au péril, autant qu’il est en
eux, de laisser sans aucune défense notre personne, et notre royaume de France.”
Ayroles, Vraie Jeanne, III:551–52.
22
“Ils considérait que par la renommée de Jeanne la Pucelle les courages anglais
étaient fort altérés et défaillis.” Jean Wavrin de Forestel, in Ayroles, Vraie Jeanne, III:499.
23
“Ceux du parti bourguignon et les Anglais en furent très joyeux, plus que d’avoir
pris cinq cents combattants; car ils ne craignaient et ne redoutaient aucun capitaine,
aucun chef de guerre, autant que jusqu’à ce jour ils avaient redouté cette Pucelle.”
Enguerrand de Monstrelet, in Ayroles, Vraie Jeanne, III:431.
24
“La Pucelle passant nature de femme soutint le grand faix du combat, et se donna
beaucoup de peine pour sauver sa compagnie de perte, demeurant à l’arrière comme
chef du troupeau et la tête la plus vaillante. La fortune permit que ce fut la fin de sa
gloire, son dernier combat, et qu’elle ne dut plus porter les armes. Un archer . . . la prit

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225

Three years after Joan’s execution, Bedford told the teenaged King
Henry VI that
all things [in France] prospered for you till the time of the siege of Orléans
taken in hand by God knows what advice. . . . It seemed a great stroke came
upon your people, assembled there in great numbers, caused in large part,
as I believe, because of lack of confidence and doubt that they had of a disciple and limb of the fiend, called the Maid, who used false enchantments
and sorcery, by which stroke and discomfiture lessened in great part the
number of your people there, and also withdrew the courage of the remnant in marvelous wise.25

For Bedford, the matter was personal, an emasculating challenge to his
leadership, skill, and the fortune he had amassed in France. Five
months after her capture, the Burgundians finally sold Joan for 10,000
l.t., which the English had raised by taxing the inhabitants of
Normandy.A king’s ransom indeed!
Held in English-controlled Normandy, Joan’s trial was overtly
political, although conducted under the guise of a church court. At
the end of a letter of January 3, 1431, to Bishop Pierre Cauchon of
Beauvais, written in the name of Henry VI, Bedford states,“it is our
intention to recover and take Joan again into our custody if she
is not convicted of the above crimes or any of them, or of something else touching upon our faith.”26 The result was a foregone
conclusion, and the trial should have been cut and dried, except for
the fact that Joan had attained international renown. Cauchon knew
he had to present a case that was more than a show trial. He immediately encountered a problem when he tried to enlist Jean Le
Maistre, the vice inquisitor of Rouen and prior of the Dominican
Convent of Saint-Jacques, to preside alongside him. Le Maistre
responded that he did not want to involve himself in the matter as
much for the scruples of his conscience as for the betterment of the

de coté par sa huque de drap d’or . . . [Un chevalier] au moment de sa chute, la pressa
de si près qu’elle lui donna sa foi . . . [était] plus joyeux que s’il avait eu un roi entre ses
mains.” Georges Chastellain, in Ayroles, Vraie Jeanne, III:465–66.
25
Nicholas Harris Nicolas, ed., Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council of
England from the Year 1386 to 1542 (London, 1834–37),V:223.
26
“Toutesvoies, c’est nostre entencion de ravoir et reprendre pardevers nous icelle
Jehanne, se ainsi estoit qu’elle ne fust convaincue ou actaine des cas dessusdiz ou
d’aucun d’eulx touchans ou regardans nostre dicte foy.” Tisset and Lanhers,
Condamnation, p. 15. Emphasis added.

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trial.27 Two and a half months after Joan’s arrival in Rouen, Cauchon
summoned Le Maistre
offering to share with him the charters and documents pertaining to the
trial. But the vice-inquisitor then raised some difficulty . . . because he was
only commissioned in the city of Rouen. However, the trial had been delegated to us [Pierre Cauchon, bishop of Beauvais, in whose diocese Joan
had been captured] by reason of our jurisdiction in Beauvais, in borrowed
territory. . . . We wrote to the Inquisitor of France to appoint him, after
which we summoned him and required that he participate in the trial.28

Le Maistre could no longer absent himself, but proved an unwilling
and subordinate participant “without special rank among the assessors and doctors forming the tribunal,” rubber-stamping Cauchon’s
appointments to positions of promotor, examiner, and so forth.29
According to several witnesses in 1456, Le Maistre only attended
because he was forced to do so.30
Problems exist using both the trial record and the nullification proceedings of 1450–56.The first was designed by the English to convict
Joan.A second problem with the 1431 trial transcript is that Joan stated
from the outset that she would lie. She repeatedly said she would
sometimes tell the truth and other times not, that they should not want
her to commit perjury, and that little children had a saying that sometimes people hang for telling the truth.31 Evidence throughout the
transcript shows that Joan did lie and prevaricate as she went along.
Guillaume Bouillé, a theologian and counselor to the king, began
the inquest into the original trial in 1450 because of his strong feel27

Tisset and Lanhers, Condamnation, p. 29.
“Offerentes sibi communicare acta, munimenta et alia quecumque habebamus ad
materiam et processum pertinencia. Ipse vero vicarius pro tunc aliqualem difficultatem
fecerat. . .propterea quod solum commissus erat in civitate et diocesi Rothomagensi;
processus autem coram nobis deducebatur racione iurisdicionis nostre Belvacensis, in
territorio accommodato . . . Concluseramus scribere ad dominum inquisitorem . . . aut
vicarium specialiter in hac causa deputaret . . . Propter que, ipsum fratrem Iohannem
Magistri sommabamus et requirebamus quatinus, iuxta tenorem sue commissionis, se
nobiscum in hoc processu adiungeret.”Tisset and Lanhers, Condamnation, p. 119.
29
Jean Guiraud, The Mediaeval Inquisition, trans. E. C. Messenger (London, 1929),
pp. 206–07.
30
Jean Massieu, in Duparc, Nullité, IV:111; Nicholas de Houppeville, in Paul
Doncoeur and Yvonne Lanhers, eds., L’Enquête du Cardinal d’Estouteville en 1452
(Paris, 1958), p. 90. Henceforth referred to as Enquête.
31
Tisset and Lanhers, Condamnation, pp. 45, 55, 62, 88.
28

BY LARISSA JULIET TAYLOR

227

ings about Joan’s execution.32 It ended abruptly after only seven testimonies. A much more powerful figure in both France and Rome,
Cardinal Guillaume d’Estouteville, archbishop of Rouen, reopened the
proceedings in 1452, and several more witnesses appeared or reappeared. But the Hundred Years War was not yet over, and the king was
unwilling to reopen old wounds. Finally, at the behest of Joan’s
mother, Isabelle, and with the blessing of Pope Callixtus III, the
Nullification Process of 1455–56 began, its goal being to determine
whether the first trial was procedurally flawed, in the process clearing the shadow over Charles’s reign that he had been crowned by a
heretic.
The nullification proceedings, as political in intent as the condemnation, featured large numbers of witness testimonies from villagers
in Domremy, captains alongside whom Joan fought, ordinary people
who encountered her in Orléans and elsewhere, and men who
attended the trial and/or abjuration and execution.The trial assessors
(or expert witnesses) must be treated with caution, since many may
have sought to put a better face on their actions in 1431. At the same
time, they provide information unavailable from other sources and
confirm events at the trial. In the testimonies of disparate groups,
striking similarities appear in statements taken under oath.33
The first noteworthy aspect of the five-month trial is how few of
the 131 assessors attended more than a few sessions. Although many
attended the several public sessions from February 21 through March
3, the numbers dropped dramatically when the Ordinary Trial began,
in large part because it was held in Joan’s prison cell. For the entire
trial, almost 60 percent of the assessors attended only one to five sessions with only 5 percent attending more than twenty-five.34
Cauchon’s supporters from the University of Paris and adherents of
32
Although conducted under the auspices of Charles VII, there is strong evidence
from Bouillé’s codicil to the inquest that suggests he was the chief architect of the
process. Paul Doncoeur and Yvonne Lanhers, eds., La Réhabilitation de Jeanne La
Pucelle: L’enquête Ordonnée Par Charles VII en 1450 (Paris, 1961), pp. 20–27.
Henceforth referred to as Réhabilitation.
33
For a further discussion of use of the primary sources, see Larissa Juliet Taylor, The
Virgin Warrior: The Life and Death of Joan of Arc (New Haven, 2009), Appendix B.
34
Those present most often, besides the officers of the court, were all closely connected to the University of Paris, Cauchon, and the English, and were extremely hostile
to Joan: Thomas de Courcelles (nineteen times), Jacques de Touraine (twenty-one
times), Jean Beaupère (twenty-two times), Pierre Morice (twenty-three times), and
Gérard Feuillet (thirty-three times). Doncoeur and Lanhers, Réhabilitation, p. 61n.

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JOAN OF ARC, THE CHURCH, AND THE PAPACY, 1429–1920

the English side formed the core of the trial, but the large number of
assessors created the fiction that there was broad backing for his
actions. Once Le Maistre was forced to attend, Ysambard de La Pierre,
a brother in his convent, accompanied him fourteen times, so, along
with the trial notaries and Joan’s usher, Jean Massieu, who had to
attend, another picture emerges. This is borne out by a close examination of who was called and/or agreed to testify in 1450, 1452, and
1456. Only three of those who had been extremely hostile to Joan did
so—Jean Beaupère, Jean de Mailly, and Thomas de Courcelles. Many
had died in the intervening years, and others undoubtedly chose to
absent themselves for fear of self-incrimination, despite the king’s
promise of amnesty. But it is striking how few of the assessors came
forward to testify. Aside from the three hostile to Joan, the nullification witnesses involved with the trial in any way who testified
included the three notaries; four Dominicans from the Convent of
Saint-Jacques; Joan’s usher; two physicians called when Joan was ill;
the would-be torturer; two bourgeois of the city who presented themselves because they had seen Joan; a few friars and priests; and several
other churchmen, not all of whom had actually been present at the
trial. Because of the self-selective and generally sympathetic composition of most of the group and its range across the spectrum of those
who had been present, their testimonies provide a compelling counterweight to the events recorded in the trial transcript.
Jean Beaupère, one of those most hostile to Joan, appeared voluntarily. In his first comment, he stated a view that will be discussed
later:“Regarding Joan’s revelations, there was considerable conjecture
that the revelations were more from natural causes and human invention than supernatural.”35 But for those unsympathetic with
Cauchon’s mission, coercion was the norm. Shortly after Joan’s arrival
in Rouen, Cauchon had ordered all his justices, officers, and subjects—both French and English—not to hinder or cause any difficulties during the trial.36 One theologian summed it up, saying that “he
believed that some were not completely free to act, but others did so
gladly.”37 Cauchon’s colleagues, among them the majority of assessors

35
“Il a eu et a plus grant conjecture que lesdictes apparitions estoient plus de cause
naturelle et invention humaine que de cause surnature.” Jean Beaupère, in Doncoeur
and Lanhers, Réhabilitation, p. 56.
36
Tisset and Lanhers, Condamnation, p. 15.
37
“Il croit que certains n’ont pas été totalement libres, et que d’autres ont agi de bon
gré.” Pierre Miget, in Doncoeur and Lanhers, L’Enquête, p. 136.

BY LARISSA JULIET TAYLOR

229

from the English-controlled University of Paris, knew Bedford’s terms
and were determined to convict Joan.The vast majority of the others
attended largely because of fear and threats.Two of the most unbiased
sources for the trial are Nicolas de Houppeville, a bachelor of theology who refused to attend, and the main trial notary, Guillaume
Manchon. Joan’s usher said that the notary did not write down some
things that certain people wanted but instead wrote the truth.38 The
fearless Houppeville, whose story was corroborated by almost everyone else who testified, stated that
at the beginning of the trial, he participated in certain deliberations, in
which he was not of the same opinion as the bishop. It did not appear
to him to be good procedure that those of the opposing party were
judges since she had already been questioned by the clergy of Poitiers
and the archbishop of Reims, metropolitan of the archbishop of
Beauvais. After expressing his opinion, he incurred the violent indignation of the bishop, to the point that he was cited before him. He affirmed
that he would not submit and that [Cauchon] was not his bishop. . . .
After this . . . he was taken to the castle and then the royal prison.When
he asked why they seized him, they said that it was at the request of the
bishop of Beauvais.39

Released through the efforts of Le Maistre, Houppeville said he would
no longer take part and left Rouen. He was not alone in risking death
or exile. A fellow Dominican of Saint-Jacques reported that one day he
found himself with Brother Ysambart de La Pierre at a session. Not
finding any other place for them to sit, they sat near Joan, in the
middle of the assembly.
When they interrogated Joan,Ysambard warned her in secret, touching her
on the hand or making other signs. After this session, he [Guillaume Duval]
and Brother Ysambard were deputed by the judges . . . to visit her the same
day . . . to admonish her. Arriving together at the castle of Rouen to exhort
38

Jean Massieu, in Duparc, Nullité, IV:94.
“Vers le début du procès il participa à quelques délibérations où il fut d’avis que
ni l’évêque, ni ceux voulant prendre la charge du procès . . . Il ne lui paraissait pas de
bonne procédure que ceux du parti opposé fussent juges, et attendu qu’elle avait déjà
été interogée par le clergé du Poitiers et par l’archevêque de Reims, métropolitain de
l’évêque de Beauvais.A la suite de cet avis le temoin encourut l’indignation violent de
l’évêque, au point qu’il fut cité devant luit. Il comparut devant, affirmant qu’il ne lui
était pas soumis, et que son juge [n’était] pas l’évêque. . . . Après cependant . . . il fut
pris, conduit au château, et ensuite dans la prison royale; et parce qu’il demandait pour
quelle raison on se saississait de lui, on répondit que c’était à la requête de l’évêque de
Beauvais.” Nicolas de Houppeville, in Duparc, Nullité, IV:125. Emphasis added.
39

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JOAN OF ARC, THE CHURCH, AND THE PAPACY, 1429–1920

her, they found [Richard Beauchamp,] the earl of Warwick[,] at the castle.
The earl, full of fury and indignation, assailed Ysambard with threats,
saying: “Why this morning did you touch Joan that way? Why did you make
signs to her? With a terrible fury, [the earl] added, swearing, that if henceforth he perceived that he was trying to deliver or save her, he would have
him thrown into the Seine. Thus both fled in fear, and ran in great haste
back to their convent.40

The atmosphere of threats of exile, imprisonment, and drowning
were not idle, since Rouen was in the heart of English territory in
France. Heavily armed English soldiers surrounded the castle where
Joan was imprisoned.
Henry Ansgar Kelly, an expert on canon law and Inquisition, writes
that from the beginning Joan “. . . seems instinctively to have believed
that she had a right to know what the questions were to deal with.”
He adds that “. . . we can conclude that Joan came close to guessing
what her rights were under the law: to have all the matters that had
been alleged against her formally presented to her.”41 I believe it was
more than intuition. As I have argued elsewhere,42 Joan knew her
canon law rights to be in an ecclesiastical prison and to have her case
submitted to the pope, both of which she invoked on multiple occasions. She also used every one of the techniques commonly known to
inquisitors in her five-month defense. Who better to suggest such
techniques than Dominicans, who had traditionally been charged
with carrying out the process of inquisition? Nicholas Eymerich’s
1376 manual informed inquisitors that heretics often tried to escape
punishment by ten techniques.The following are examples of Joan’s
responses that fit each category.

40
“Or, quand on interrogeait Jeanne, ledit Ysambart l’avertissait en secret, en la
touchant de la main ou par d’autres signes. Après cette session, celui qui parle et ledit
frère Ysambart furent députés par les juges . . . pour les visiter ce même jour . . . et l’admonester. Or, arrivant ensemble au château de Rouen pour la visiter et l’exhorter, ils
trouvèrent le comte de Warwick dans le château. Et cedit comte, plein de fureur et
d’indignation, assaillit le frère Ysambart avec des injures en lui disant: ‘Pourquoi ce
matin touchais-tu ainsi cette Jeanne? Et pourquoi lui faisais-tu tels signes?’ Et avec une
fureur terrible, il ajouta en jurant, que, si désormais il s’apercevait qu’il cherchât à la
délivrer ou la sauver, il le ferait jeter dans la Seine.Aussi tous deux s’enfuirent-ils épouvantés, et en toute hâte coururent à leur couvent.” Guillaume Duval, in Doncouer and
Lanhers, Réhabilitation, p. 46.
41
Henry Ansgar Kelly, “The Right to Remain Silent: Before and After Joan of Arc,”
Speculum, 68 (1993), 992–1026, here 1013, 1017.
42
Taylor, Virgin Warrior, pp. 147–52.

BY LARISSA JULIET TAYLOR

231

1. Equivocation. Asked whether those of her party believed God sent
her, Joan answered that “I don’t know if they believed in me, but I
refer that to their hearts. But even if they did not, I still was sent by
God.”43
2. Adding a condition. When Joan was asked whether she wanted to
hear Mass and was told it was more appropriate that she wear female
clothing, she told them, “Make me a long dress that reaches the
ground, without a train, and let me go to Mass.And on my return I will
put on my male clothes once again.”44
3. Redirecting the question.When she was asked whom she believed to
be the true pope, Joan responded,“Are there two of them?”45
4. Feigned astonishment. Joan used this technique frequently when she
began naming her saints during the fourth session. When she was
asked if St. Margaret spoke English, Joan responded,“Why would she
speak English, since she is not on the English side?”46 Asked about the
Archangel Michael’s appearance to her and whether he was nude,
Joan answered, “Don’t you think God has the wherewithal to clothe
him?”47
5. Twisting the meaning of words. When asked whether the angel had
not failed her in terms of her good fortune, in that she had been captured, Joan stated,“if afterwards it had pleased God it was better that
she should be captured.”48
6. Open changing of subject. Asked when the king first set her to work
and had her standard made and whether other soldiers had had similar standards made, Joan replied: “It is good to know that the lords
maintain their arms. . . . ”When asked if others had pennons made like
hers, she answered that:“Sometimes she said to them: Go boldly among
the English.”49
7. Self-justification.When the judges tried to force her to swear an oath
at the beginning of the trial, Joan stated that she “had come from God

43
“Ego nescio utrum credant, et me redo ad animum ipsorum; sed si non credant,
tamen ego sum missa a Deo.”Tisset and Lanhers, Condamnation, p. 99.
44
“Faciatis michi habere tunicam longam usque ad terram, sine cauda, et tradatis
michi pro eundo ad missam; et postea, in egressu, ego iterum capiam istum habitum
quem habeo.”Tisset and Lanhers, Condamnation, p. 157.
45
“Querendo utrum essent duo.”Tisset and Lanhers, Condamnation, p. 81.
46
“Qualiter loqueretur anglicum, cum non sit de parte Anglicorum?. . .” Tisset and
Lanhers, Condamnation, p. 84.
47
“Cogitatis vos quod Deus non habeat unde ipsum vestire?” Tisset and Lanhers,
Condamnation, p. 87.
48
“Credit, postquam illud placuit Deo, quod est pro meliori quod ipsa sit capta.”
Tisset and Lanhers, Condamnation, p. 122.
49
“Bonum est scire quod domini manutenebant arma sua. . . . Respondit quod aliquando dicebat suis: Intretis audacter per medium Anglicorum.” Tisset and Lanhers,
Condamnation, pp. 96–97.

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JOAN OF ARC, THE CHURCH, AND THE PAPACY, 1429–1920

and had no business here and asks that she be sent back to God from
whom she came.”50
8. Feigned illness.When the judges came to Joan’s prison cell on April 18
to exhort her to correct her ways, they found her sick. Joan told them,
“It seems to me that I am in grave danger of death because of my sickness.”51 Two physicians at the nullification process testified that they
believed she was sick, but said she claimed her illness was caused by
carp sent to her by Cauchon.According to them, the lead prosecutor,
Jean d’Estivet, exclaimed:“You, whore, you have eaten pickled fish and
other bad things.’ She denied this and they exchanged many offensive
words.”52
9. Feigned stupidity or madness.When she was asked whether she was
forbidden to tell them about her voices, she answered that she did not
yet understand,53 although she had previously answered more fully.
10. A way of life that is apparently holy. Most of those who spoke at the
nullification process mentioned Joan’s frequent desire to confess and
hear Mass, and the villagers with whom she had grown up recalled
that they had mocked her for attending church too often.54

Eymerich mentioned that many accused by the Inquisition even
threatened those who might testify against them.55 Although there
were no actual deponents at her trial, Joan repeatedly told Cauchon,
“You say you are my judge. Be careful what you do, because in truth I
was sent by God and you are putting yourself in great danger.”56
Cauchon, like the English on the battlefield before him, might have
thought that defeating a teenaged peasant girl would prove to be
50

“Venit ex parte Dei et non habet hic negociari quicquam, petens ut remicteretur
ad Deum a quo venerat.”Tisset and Lanhers, Condamnation, pp. 57.
51
“Videtur michi quod sum in magno periculo mortis, visa infirmitate quam habeo.”
Tisset and Lanhers, Condamnation, p. 329.
52
[Tiphaine:] Estivet, toujours présent, lui répliqua,“Toi, paillarde, tu as mangé poissons en saumure et autre choses qui ne te conviennent pas.” Elle lui répondit qu’il n’en
était rien; et cette Jeanne et d’Estivet échangèrent beaucoup de paroles injurieuses . . .
[de la Chambre:] Arriva un certain maître Jean d’Estivet, qui eut des paroles injurieuses
contre Jeanne, l’appelant putain, paillarde; elle en fut si fort irritée qu’elle eut de nouveau la fièvre et retomba malade. Jean Tiphaine and Guillaume de la Chambre, in
Duparc, Nullité, IV:34.
53
Tisset and Lanhers, Condamnation, p. 71.
54
Duparc, Nullité, III:241, 264, 275.
55
James Given, Inquisition in Medieval Society: Society, Power, Discipline and
Resistance in Medieval Languedoc (Ithaca, NY, 1997), pp. 93–97.
56
“Vos dicitis quod estis iudex meus; advertatis de hoc quod facitis, quia, in veritate,
ego sum missa ex parte Dei, et ponitis vos ipsum in magno periculo.”Tisset and Lanhers,
Condamnation, p. 59.

BY LARISSA JULIET TAYLOR

233

swift business. However, in March 1431, Jean Lohier, a canon lawyer
summoned by the bishop, arrived in Rouen to give his opinion. He
nearly derailed the trial and certainly changed its course. After two or
three days, Lohier announced that the trial was invalid. First, it had not
followed proper procedure as an Ordinary Trial. In the Preliminary
Trial, no charges had been presented against Joan. He listed other reasons—it took place in an enclosed space where the attendees were
not at liberty to speak freely; it concerned the king of France, who
was a party to the trial, but no one from his side was called; the wording of the articles had not been open enough; and as a simple girl,
Joan had no counsel. According to Manchon, Cauchon was enraged.
At that point, the trial notary says that Cauchon met with his inner
circle, saying, “here is this Lohier who wants to add nice-sounding
questions to our trial. He wants to undermine it. . . . We certainly see
on which foot he hops!” Manchon then spoke privately with Lohier,
who told him that they were trying to trap Joan in her words and
intended to kill her, adding that in his opinion, “no man could condemn her, and it seems they are proceeding out of hatred. So I will not
take part, nor will I be here to see it.”57 Even someone as close to
Cauchon as Courcelles confirmed this exchange.58 As a result, articles
based on the Preliminary Trial were drawn up based on Joan’s
answers, and messengers were sent to the University of Paris to gain
approval. When they returned, on March 26, Joan was formally
accused of heresy, and the Ordinary Trial began.
By this point, it was clear that the hatred felt by the English for Joan
drove the trial. It is unclear whether those outside of Cauchon’s group
knew of the English ultimatum before the trial began, although
“common rumor” in Rouen had it that they were intent on finding
Joan guilty. A bourgeois with connections at the castle commented
that they harassed her constantly with all kinds of questions because
she had led a war against the English.59 A local canon present at her
abjuration and execution claimed that “if she had been of the party of
the English. . . she would not have been treated so. . . . The English
57
“Vela Lohier qui nous veult bailler belles interlocutoyres en nostre procès. Il veut
tout calompnier; et dit qu’il ne vault rien. . .On veoit bien de quel pié il cloche!”. . .“Il
m’est advis que il n’est homme qui la peust condempner; et semble plus que procedent
par hayne que aultrement. Et pour ce je ne me tendray plus cy; ne je n’y vueil estre.”
Guillaume Manchon, in Doncoeur and Lanhers, Réhabilitation, pp. 48–49; Manchon, in
Duparc, Nullité, IV:99.
58
Thomas de Courcelles, in Duparc, Nullité, IV:41.
59
Pierre Cusquel, in Duparc, Nullité, IV:132.

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JOAN OF ARC, THE CHURCH, AND THE PAPACY, 1429–1920

were terrified by her deeds . . . and he believed they conducted the
trial because Joan had made war on them.”60
Still, Joan went on the offense, heedless of the outcome or perhaps
hopeful of rescue. Many of those present were astonished at her
astute responses, some of which they said would have confused great
theologians. One Parisian who only saw her execution but had
spoken with others recalled that they remarked that they had never
seen a woman of that age give so much trouble to those who questioned her.61 One of the notaries asserted that some of the doctors
present responded, “You say well, Joan.”62 And still some of the
Dominicans of Saint-Jacques tried to assist her. When the assessors
deliberated on torture (which was not used, at least partially because
Joan insisted she would deny anything she said under torture, again
showing knowledge of canon law), most equivocated or simply
repeated what those before them said, showing a lack of personal
conviction. Only Le Maistre did not answer the question at all, saying
simply that she should be asked again if she would submit to the
Church Militant. It was under those conditions that La Pierre and
others tried to explain to Joan the difference between the Church
Militant and Church Triumphant and urged her to submit to the council then being held:
She asked what a General Council was. [He] told her that it was a universal assembly of the whole Church, and there were as many men of her
party as of the English. Hearing that, Joan declared:“Oh! There are people
of our party?” He said yes. She responded right away that she would certainly submit. But immediately, the bishop of Beauvais, furious and spiteful,
yelled at him: “Shut up, by Devil!” The bishop immediately enjoined the
notary not to write down the submission that she had made to the General
Council. For this reason, he suffered, on the part of the English and their
officers, grave menaces of being thrown into the Seine and drowned if he
did not henceforth keep his mouth shut.63
60
“Si elle avait tenu le parti des Anglais . . . elle n’eût pas été traîtée comme elle fut
. . . Les Anglais furent comme terrifiés par ses faits . . . Il croit cependant qu’ils le firent
par ce que Jeanne leur avait fait à la guerre.” Guillaume du Désert, in Duparc,
Enquête,102, 104; see also Thomas Marie, in Duparc, Nullité, IV:148.
61
Jean Marcel, in Duparc, Nullité, IV:79.
62
“Et parfois certains des docteurs assistants lui disaient: ‘Vous dites bien, Jeanne.’”
Nicolas Taquel, in Enquête, p. 80.
63
“Elle demanda ce que c’était que ce Concile général. Celui qui parle lui répondit
que c’était une assemblée universelle de toute l’Eglise et même de la Chrétienté, et
qu’en ce Concile il y avait nombre d’hommes aussi bien de son parti que du parti des

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235

What happened on the weekend of Trinity Sunday after Joan abjured
and agreed to wear female clothes is shrouded in mystery. Some of the
witnesses believed there had been an attempted rape, whereas others
stated that a bundle of male clothing was substituted for her dress.
When she was found wearing men’s clothing once again, several of the
assessors tried to reach the castle to ascertain what had happened, but
were pushed back by English soldiers armed with pikes and staves.
My suggestion that Joan had help from certain members of the
trial, especially the Dominicans of Saint-Jacques, does not mean that
they viewed her as a saint. None of the trial assessors said anything of
the sort. Even La Pierre stated
that when she spoke of the realm and of the war, she appeared moved by
the Holy Spirit. But when she spoke of herself, she often used fictions. But
he did not think that having done so ought to have led her to be condemned as a heretic.64

A Benedictine doctor of theology admitted that he saw nothing in her
that was not Catholic, apart from “the revelations that she pretended
to have had from the saints.”65 In reading the trial transcript, even
though difficult and confusing questions were put to Joan in rapid
succession, she nevertheless responded with wit, sarcasm, and the
techniques discussed earlier. It is easy to understand why some assessors did not believe her a heretic, or deserving of death, yet at no
point suggested that she was saintly. Deliberations of a small number
of theologians and lawyers near the end of the trial reveal surprising
differences of opinion. Several mentioned the difficulty of “discernment of spirits” regarding Joan’s claim that she heard voices, saying

Anglais. Entendant cela, Jeanne déclara:‘Oh! Il y a là des gens de notre parti?’ Celui qui
parle lui ayant dit que oui. Elle répondit sur le champ: qu’elle voulait bien se soumettre
à ce Concile. Mais aussitôt, l’évêque de Beauvais, plein de dépit et furieux, cria à celui
qui parle:‘Taisez-vous, de par le Diable!’ Et le même évêque enjoignit aussitôt au notaire
de ne pas consigner la soumission qu’elle avait fait au Concile général. En raison de
quoi, et pour d’autres motifs encore, celui qui parle souffrit, de par les Anglais et leurs
officiers, de grave menaces d’être noyé et jeté à la Seine, s’il ne taisait pas désormais.”
Ysambard de la Pierre, in Doncoeur and Lanhers, Réhabilitation, pp. 34, 36.
64
“Quand elle parlait du royaume et de la guerre, elle paraissait mue par le Saint
Esprit. Mais que, quand elle parlait de sa personne, elle usait souvent des fictions. Mais
il ne pense pas que ce qu’elle disait devait la faire condamner comme hérétique.”
Ysambard de la Pierre, in Doncoeur, Enquête, p. 54.
65
“Il n’a rien vu qui ne fut catholique;mises à part ces révélations qu’elle prétendait
avoir eues des saints.” Pierre Miget, in Doncoeur and Lanhers, Enquête, p. 50.

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God alone could read the hearts of men and women. One canon
lawyer claimed the voices were “cunningly invented by this woman
and her abettors to accomplish her aims and those of her party.”66
Raoul Le Sauvage, of the convent of Saint-Jacques, repeated that Joan
was boastful, invented lies and falsehoods, and was given to phantasms. Yet even though he allowed for the possibility that she might
be inspired by the devil, he argued before Cauchon that
to bring this to a more certain and positive conclusion, so that it cannot
be suspect from any quarter, I think that for the honor of His Royal Majesty
and of yourself, for peace and tranquility of conscience, the articles should
be sent with the appropriate comments for a higher opinion to The Holy
Apostolic See.67

His attempt to have the case revoked to Rome was denied, and Joan
could not be saved.
But the long and dreadful execution was too much for many who
had attended the trial or knew of it. Many wept, even one Englishman
who had hated Joan so much that he threatened to throw her into the
fire with his own hands. After watching her die, he had to be taken to
a tavern in the Old Market to restore his senses.68 Yet, although some
of the onlookers said that they hoped their souls would be where
hers was after that day, there was no talk of sanctity. It was different
among her soldiers, who had been unable to understand how she
accomplished what she had and stated to the inquest that they
believed she accomplished her feats through divine inspiration.
Once the original trial was declared null and void in 1456, Joan
was forgotten for some years. Charles VII, who had to be pushed by
Bouillé and d’Estouteville to open the inquests, wanted to forget that
his throne had been won largely at the hands of a young girl. But in
1461 someone did remember—Pope Pius II.Years earlier, as a twenty66
“Ego credo quod ille asserciones sunt false, mendose et tante reperte per ipsam
mulierem et complices suos pro veniendo ad fines suos pro parte sua.” Tisset and
Lanhers, Condamnation, pp. 323–24.
67
“Et consequenter dicebam, ut conclusio et sentencia super istis habenda cercior
sit et firmior et nulla ex parte calumniari valeat, michi videtur, salvo semper meliori iudicio, ad regie maiestatis honorem et vestri ac conscienciarum plurimorum quietem et
pacificacionem, quod predicte asserciones cum suis debitis qualificacionibus, signetis
notariorum munite, ad Sanctam Sedem apostolicam transmictende sunt.” Tisset and
Lanhers, Condamnation, p. 327.
68
Ysambard de la Pierre, in Doncoeur and Lanhers, Enquête, p. 122.

BY LARISSA JULIET TAYLOR

237

four-year-old humanist, Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini had been transfixed, like so many others across Europe, by the deeds of the young
Maid.Thirty years after her execution, he devoted seven pages of his
Commentaries to Joan of Arc. He discussed her mission, male clothing, and Catholic conformity, but focused on her military exploits.
After describing her entrance into Orléans and attack on the English
camp, in which she set fire to their bastilles, he asserted that “all the
enemy who fought against the Maid fell so that there was hardly
anyone left to carry news of the disaster. The glory of this exploit was
credited to the Maid alone.” Pius wrote about the same elements that
Joan’s contemporaries had regarded as special: her skills in warfare
and the terror she inspired in the English.
The Maid led out her troops and as soon as she saw the enemy with loud
shouts and terrific force she charged the English lines. Not a man dared to
stand fast or show his face; sudden panic and horror seized them all . . .
Their drawn swords fell from their hands; everyone threw away shield and
helmet to be unencumbered for flight. Talbot’s shouts of encouragement
were unheard and his threats unheeded. It was a most shameful rout.They
presented only their backs to the Maid. . . . The reports of these things, carried to the neighboring peoples and by them to those farther off and
always increasing as it travelled, filled all with amazement.

Pius then recounts the capitulation of towns along the coronation
route, and Joan’s capture and trial.As for the trial, he says, they could
find no fault in her except her male clothing, which had bothered few
French clerics and did not bother him. Then he mentions a possible
ruse before adding his assessment:“it is possible that the English, who
had been vanquished by the Maid in so many battles, never really felt
safe while she lived.” He adds that
Whether her career was a miracle of Heaven or a device of men I should
find it hard to say. Some think that when the English cause was prospering, one shrewder than the rest evolved the cunning scheme of declaring
that the Maid had been sent by Heaven and of giving her the command she
asked for, since there was no man alive who would refuse to have God for
his leader. Thus it came about that the conduct of war and the high command was entrusted to a girl. Nor would this have been difficult to
manage with the French, who think hearsay is the same as knowledge.
It is a phenomenon that deserves to be recorded, although after-ages are
likely to regard it with more wonder than credulity.69
69
Florence Alden Gragg, trans., Secret Memoirs of a Renaissance Pope (London,
1988), pp. 197–201. Emphasis in original.

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JOAN OF ARC, THE CHURCH, AND THE PAPACY, 1429–1920

In view of his obvious admiration for Joan’s military skills, it is
interesting to note that Pius questions Joan’s divine inspiration.The
latter opinion was voiced not only among some of the trial assessors
but also the Burgundians. Pius probably first heard about it from
Jean Jouffroy, bishop of Arras, in 1459. Jouffroy claimed that during
the war,
the so-called miracle appeared, skillfully divulged, rashly believed in, of a
young girl the French called the Maid. Do we really think that she was like
Deborah in the Bible? . . . Should we not instead believe that one more
important than the rest exploited the strategy of using this young girl to
revive weary hearts? Caesar attested that among his people, that which
was only a rumor soon became a proven fact. . . . But it is useless to try to
refute this web of incoherent historical fabrications.70

Jouffroy understated Joan’s skills, but his statement is credible. It is
hard to prove a negative, but unlike medieval female saints, of which
there was a proliferation in the late Middle Ages, no cult developed
around Joan, her confessors did not promote her cause, and no miracles were adduced until nearly 500 years after her execution. Only the
people of Orléans, especially in their annual Mystère du siège
d’Orléans, consistently kept Joan alive in their memories. For the
most part, she was forgotten until the nineteenth century. Occasional
dramas, complete distortions based on Renaissance, Enlightenment,
and romantic ideals, sensationalized Joan’s character and exploits.
Only when historians such as Jules Michelet and his student, Jules
Quicherat, began to gather historical evidence in the mid-nineteenth
century did Joan become a phenomenon again. Her “re-discovery”
came at a time when France had endured a second revolution in less
than a century. Joan became a symbol for monarchists and republicans alike. Félix Dupanloup, a devout churchman and scholar who
hoped to restore religion to France, launched his elevation to the
Bishopric of Orléans in 1849 with an encomium of Joan that attracted
international attention. In 1869, at his instigation, the beatification
proceedings began despite interruptions caused by war.
70
“A la suite de cette guerre vint le prétendu miracle, habilement divulgué,
témérairement cru, de la jeune fille que les Français nomment la Pucelle. Faut-il penser
[quelle est] comme Débora des Écritures? . . . Faut-il croire que l’un de ces grands aura
habilement exploité le stratagème de cette jeune fille pour relever les coeurs abbatus
et sans force? César attestait déjà que chez ce peuple, ce qui est seulement ébruité est
facilement chose prouvée . . . Il est inutile de réfuter ce tissu de faussetés historiques et
d’incohérences.” Jean Jouffroy, in Ayroles, Vraie Jeanne, III:537–38.

BY LARISSA JULIET TAYLOR

239

Augustine Caprara, the first of the Sacred Congregation’s Devil’s
Advocates, was called upon to find flaws in Joan that would preclude
beatification. He asserted that
Two stages can be distinguished in the life of our Maid; the first full of
glory and admiration, up to the time of her capture: the other full of hardships, which found its end by punishment by fire…. When she was captured, and subjected to the questions of the court, she abandoned her
greatness of spirit, the splendor of her divine revelations disappeared, and
grave faults obscured whatever surpassing virtues she had at that time.71

Moreover, Caprara pointed out that “this praise of sanctity has come
to her only in our own time,” stating that she did not meet the standard criteria of displaying heroic virtue (in the cause of religion) and
that “no miracles or cult was attested.” Instead, he emphasized that it
was her military skills that had impressed minds and hearts.72 Caprara
did not suggest that Joan had been a ploy of the court, but he
expressed most of the sentiments that had characterized opinion in
Joan’s time, not his own.
Alexander Verde, the third of the Devil’s Advocates, contended correctly that the nullification process had only served to overturn Joan’s
heresy charge, not to praise her heroic virtues. After repeating that
she often lied, he pointed out that historical sources did not glorify
her as a holy woman but as a leader and warrior. He admits that many
at the time called her pious and religious, but points out that that is
not the same as being holy. In his view, her “longing to protect the
realm and the king” could hardly be considered a divine mission.73
Pope Pius II asked the cardinals and consultants of the Sacred
71
“Duo ergo stadia in puellae nostrae secernenda videntur; primum gloriosum, et
admiratione plenum, usque ad suam captivitatem: alterum plenum aerumnis, quod ignis
supplicio finem habuit. . . . At, ubi capta illa fuit, et iudicialibus quaestionibus subiecta,
defecit ea animi magnitudo, splendor ille divinarum revelationum disparuit, ac praegressas virtutes, quaecumque demum eae fuerint, graves culpae obscurasse visae sunt.”
Sacra Rituum Congregatione: Aurelianen: Beatificationis et canonizationis Servae
Dei Ioannae de Arc, Puellae Aurelianensis nuncupatae, Positio super introduction
causae, Pt. 5: Animadversiones (Rome, 1893), pp. 52–53.
72
“Hanc porro sanctitatis laudem nonnisi aetate nostra. . . . Nulla postea erga de mortuam ecclesiastici cultus species inolevit. . . . Non ergo christiana heroica virtus, sed militaris mentes animosque commoverat.” Animadversiones, pp. 4, 13, 14.
73
“Desiderium patriam regemque tuendi.” Sacra Rituum Congregatione:
Aurelianen. Beatificationis et Canonizationis Ven. Servae Dei Ioannae de Arc
Virginis Aurelianensis Pullae nuncupatae, Pt. I: Novae Animadversiones (Rome,
1903A), p. 7.

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JOAN OF ARC, THE CHURCH, AND THE PAPACY, 1429–1920

Congregation of Rites to pray with him “in so difficult a manner.” On
January 6, 1904, he authorized the cause to go forward.Three miracles
were approved, and Joan was beatified in 1909.74 Relations between
the Vatican and France, already strained as a result of France’s long
period of dechristianization, deteriorated further during World War I.
The French Church adopted an ultra-nationalistic posture, as the
papacy tried to mediate between the sides, a stance that was incomprehensible to many French men and women who saw the war as a
battle between good and evil. Postwar tensions between France and
the Vatican ran deep. Is it a coincidence that Joan was canonized in
1920, fifty years after her beatification process had begun and two
years after World War I had ended?
Joan was not burned by the Church but executed with considerable difficulty by an English-controlled court that had as its foregone
conclusion her ultimate conviction and death. Too often she had
beaten English forces on the field of battle, a fact of which Bedford
was constantly reminded by problems with recruiting, desertions,
and challenges to his authority. Many at the trial expressed the opinion that the English would not attack the town of Louviers until Joan
was dead, a testament to her military talent. Nor in my opinion did
Joan exhibit the attributes of a saint in her lifetime. Joan of Arc is a
saint, as a result of proper procedures followed by the Roman
Catholic Church. But Pius II offered a more historical and accurate
description of Joan’s accomplishments in her short life when he
called her “that astonishing and marvelous Maid who restored the
kingdom of France.”75

74
Henry Ansgar Kelly,“Joan of Arc’s Last Trial: The Attack of the Devil’s Advocates,” in
Wheeler and Wood, Fresh Verdicts, 205–36, here p. 228.
75
Gragg, Secret Memoirs, p. 201.

ABBATIAL OBEDIENCE, LITURGICAL REFORM,
AND THE THREAT OF MONASTIC AUTONOMY
AT THE TURN OF THE TWELFTH CENTURY
BY

STEVEN VANDERPUTTEN*

The author argues that the introduction of the written promise of obedience made by abbots to the local bishop, as recorded in liturgical
manuals of the late-twelfth century, was the result of a process that
began at least a century earlier. By looking at an exceptional set of
liturgical and archival sources from the Bishopric of Arras in northern France and putting them in their appropriate canonical, liturgical, and political contexts, the author shows how, in the late- eleventh
and early-twelfth centuries, reformist bishops were experimenting
with a ritual repertoire that included references—be they intended or
inferred—to both the monastic profession and secular homage.
Keywords: Bishopric of Arras; Gregorian reform; liturgical reform;
medieval rituals; monastic obedience
The ritual behavior of medieval people has recently become the
subject of significant methodological and epistemological debate,
transforming its study into one of the most dynamic domains of
medieval scholarship.1 As a result, historical analysis is now more
*Dr.Vanderputten is professor in the History of the Early and Central Middle Ages in
the Department of History, Ghent University, Belgium, email: Steven.Vanderputten@
UGent.be. This article was written under the aegis of the FWO-research project
Monastic Leadership in the Postcharismatic Age. The author wishes to thank Brigitte
Meijns, Diane Reilly, Benoît-Michel Tock, and Melissa Provijn for their comments on the
draft of this article. The author also is grateful to Benoît-Michel Tock for kindly pointing
out the existence of the second Paris manuscript and providing his notes on its version
of the five promises.
1
The publications most relevant to this debate are Philippe Buc, The Dangers of
Ritual: Between Early Medieval Texts and Social Scientific Theory (Princeton, 2001);
Geoffrey G. Koziol, “The Dangers of Polemic: Is Ritual Still an Interesting Topic of
Historical Study?,” Early Medieval Europe, 11 (2002), 367–88; and, most recently,
Christine U. Pössel, “The Magic of Early Medieval Ritual,” Early Medieval Europe, 17
(2009), 111–25.

241

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ABBATIAL OBEDIENCE, LITURGICAL REFORM

attuned to the need to dissect the auctorial discourse of the relevant
evidence (archaeological, iconographical, and documentary) before
attempting to access the realities of public and ritual behavior itself.
Research into these practices also has moved away from a descriptive
type of analysis to one in which rituals and other forms of encoded
behavior are regarded as the principal instruments in the management
of social relations.2 Thanks to the “performative turn” in the humanities,3 an increasing number of scholars now subscribe to the notion
that public behavior exteriorized certain ideas on how society should
be organized and that, through the “performance” of encoded gestures
and rituals,4 these ideas could become part of a social habitus.
Arguably just as problematic in terms of documentation and interpretation is a third line of inquiry that looks at the use of written documents in ritual practices. Studies on gift-giving and dispute management in the Central Middle Ages have, for instance, shown that the act
of laying a legal document on the altar was sometimes considered a
significant part of the staging of public acts of reconciliation and
transferral of property between laymen and ecclesiastical institutions.5 Although many such documents are still preserved as charters
or informal notices, theoretical or normative evidence—which could
shed more light on the formal and ideological antecedents of these
practices—is, for the most part, lacking. Other applications of the
2
Two notable examples are Geoffrey G. Koziol, Begging Pardon and Favor: Ritual
and Political Order in Early Medieval France (Ithaca, NY, 1992); and John F. Romano,
“Ritual and Society in Early Medieval Rome” (PhD diss., Harvard University, 2007).
3
For the state of the art in this field of medieval research, see Jürgen Martschukat
and Steffen Patzold,“Geschichtswissenschaft und ‘Performative Turn’: Eine Einführung
in Fragestellungen, Konzepte und Literatur,” in Geschichtswissenschaft und
“Performative Turn”: Ritual, Inszenierung und Performanz vom Mittelalter bis zur
Neuzeit, ed. Martschukat and Patzold (Cologne, 2003), pp. 1–31; Jean-Marie Moeglin,
“Performative turn,” «communication politique» et rituels au Moyen Âge. À propos de
deux ouvrages récents,” Le Moyen Age, 112 (2007), 393–406; and Steven Vanderputten,
“Monks, Knights, and the Enactment of Competing Social Realities in Eleventh- and
Early-Twelfth-Century Flanders,” Speculum, 84 (2009), 582–612.
4
See, for instance, Lester K. Little, Benedictine Maledictions: Liturgical Cursing in
Romanesque France (Ithaca, NY, 1993); and Simon MacLean, “Ritual, Misunderstanding
and the Contest for Meaning: Representations of the Disputed Royal Assembly at
Frankfurt (873),” in Representations of Power in Medieval Germany 800–1500, ed.
Björn Weiler and Simon MacLean (Turnhout, 2006), pp. 97–119.
5
Arnold Angenendt, “Cartam offere super altare. Zum Liturgisierung von
Rechtsvorgängen,” Frühmittelalterliche Studien, 36 (2002), 1–26; and Warren Brown,
“Charters as Weapons. On the Role Played by Early Medieval Dispute Records in the
Disputes They Record,” Journal of Medieval History, 28 (2002), 227–48.

BY STEVEN VANDERPUTTEN

243

written word in ritual contexts are well known through the study of
normative texts, but little “applied” evidence remains. For instance, St.
Benedict of Nursia stipulates in his Rule that any novice or oblate,
upon making his profession, is required to place a petitio, or written
version of his vows, on the altar.6 Many thousands of such documents
must have been produced from the sixth century onward, yet very
few have been preserved.7 Monks apparently saw no reason to keep
a monk’s petitio after his death, particularly if his name and the donations made during his profession had already been memorialized in
other types of text.8 Although the use of petitiones is thus well
known to scholars of monastic history, it is difficult to verify to what
extent customaries and monastic rules were followed to the letter.9
Finally, there are examples of public behavior in which the use of
the written word was introduced into ritual practices as a result of
gradual processes taking place, sometimes simultaneously and sometimes not, in normative and applied contexts. This article will examine one such instance—namely that of the written promise (professio
or promissio) of obedience submitted by newly elected abbots to the
ordinarius at the time of their benediction.10 Although it has been
argued that the practice was only widely adopted in French bish6
Rule of St. Benedict LVIII, 19–20; Adalbert De Vogüé and Jean Neufville, eds., La
règle de Saint Benoit (Paris, 1972), 2:630; see Mirko Breitenstein, Das Noviziat im
hohen Mittelalter: zur Organisation des Eintritts bei den Cluniazensern,
Cisterziensern und Franziskanern (Berlin, 2008), pp. 73–77; and Jörg Sonntag,
Klosterleben im Spiegel des Zeichenhaften: symbolisches Denken und Handeln
hochmittelalterlicher Mönche zwischen Dauer und Wandel, Regel und Gewohnheit
(Berlin, 2008), pp. 120–64.
7
Two examples from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries are reproduced and discussed by Paulus Weissenberger in “Die Regel des hl. Benedikt in ihrer Bedeutung für
das Urkunden- und Archivwesen der Benediktinerkloster,” Archivalische Zeitschrift, 59
(1963), 11–29, here 13, 15.
8
Mayke De Jong, In Samuel’s Image. Child Oblation in the Early Medieval West
(Leyden, 1996), pp. 100–25.
9
This problem is treated extensively in Steven Vanderputten,“Then I received the
habit of holy religion. Memorializing the Monastic Profession at the Turn of the Twelfth
Century,” Sacris Erudiri, 49 (2010), 379–406.
10
Stephan Hilpisch, “Entwicklung des Ritus der Abtsweihe in der lateinischen
Kirche,” Studien und Mitteilungen zur Geschichte des Benediktinerordens und seiner
Zweige, 61 (1947), 53–72; Rudolf Reinhardt, “Die Abtsweihe. Eine ‘kleine
Bischofsweihe?’,” Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte, 91 (1980), 83–88; and Dominique
Iogna-Prat,“Moines et chanoines: règles, coutumiers et textes liturgiques,” in L’Histoire
des moines, chanoines et religieux au Moyen Age: Guide de recherche et documents,
ed. Albert Vauchez and Cécile Caby (Turnhout, 2003), pp. 71–97, here p. 79.

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ABBATIAL OBEDIENCE, LITURGICAL REFORM

oprics in the later twelfth and early-thirteenth centuries,11 direct and
indirect evidence suggests that its introduction was a long-term
process beginning more than a century earlier. So far, this process has
received little attention,12 and its chronology is not well established.
Through analysis of an exceptional set of liturgical and archival
sources from the Bishopric of Arras in northern France and framing
them in their appropriate canonical, liturgical, and political contexts,
it will be shown how reformist bishops of the late-eleventh and earlytwelfth centuries were experimenting with a ritual repertoire,
inspired perhaps by, but in any case reminiscent of, elements of the
monastic profession and secular homage, as part of their attempts to
contain monastic autonomy. The considerable role of local circumstances in determining the bishops’ decision to introduce these controversial liturgical innovations explains the seemingly fragmentary
and disjointed nature of the evidence from the period between c.
1070 and c. 1130.
Lambert of Arras and Abbatial Obedience
When, in 1093–94, the Bishopric of Cambrai/Arras was divided in
two independent entities, the motivations of the principal actors
were primarily political.13 Vigorously supported by Count Robert I of
Flanders (1071–93) and his son and successor, Count Robert II
(1093–1111), the division transferred the southern part of the ancient
diocese (the future Diocese of Arras) from an ecclesiastical circum11
On these promises, see François Bibolet, “Serments d’obéissance des abbés et
abbesses à l’évêque de Troyes (1191–1531),” Bulletin philologique et historique du
Comité des travaux historique et scientifiques (1959), 333–43; Giles Constable,
“Abbatial Profession in Normandy and England in the Eleventh and Twelfth Century,
with Particular Attention to Bec,” in “Ins Wasser geworfen und Ozeane durchquertg”:
Festschrift für Knut Wolfgang Nörr Ascheri, ed. Mario Ascheri, Friedrich Ebel, and
Martin Heckel (Cologne, 2003), pp. 105–20; Véronique Gazeau, Normannia monastica. Princes normands et abbés bénédictins (Xe–XIIe siècle) (Caen, 2007), pp. 71–79;
and Alexis Grélois, “La promesse d’obéissance de l’abbé à l’évêque et la question des
ordres exempts,” in Serment, promesse et engagement. Rituels et modalités au Moyen
Âge, ed. Françoise Laurent (Toulouse, 2008), pp. 307–16. Grélois—in contrast with, for
instance, Gazeau—points out (p. 308) that the common use of the word oath to designate these practices is erroneous.
12
The only exception is Constable,“Abbatial Profession.”
13
Lotte Kéry, Die Errichtung des Bistums Arras 1093/1094 (Sigmaringen, 1994);
Bernard Delmaire, Le diocèse d’Arras de 1093 au milieu du XIVe siècle. Recherches
sur la vie religieuse dans le nord de la France au moyen âge, 2 vols. (Arras, 1994);
and Claire Giordanengo, Le registre de Lambert, évêque d’Arras (1093–1115) (Paris,
2007).

BY STEVEN VANDERPUTTEN

245

scription that belonged to the German Empire to a new one that was
part of the Kingdom of France.This enabled them to divide the influence of both sovereign powers more equally over their own territories.14 For his part, Pope Urban II also supported the division, as it
offered him the perspective of creating a new center of ecclesiastical
reform in a former bishopric that, because of its allegiance to the
Empire, had been ill-disposed to accept the principles of Gregorian
reform. Following protracted negotiations with Rainauld, archbishop
of Reims, Lambert of Guînes was elected the first bishop of Arras.
As a student of canon law and a former disciple of St. Ivo of
Chartres, and thus a true, if somewhat subdued, supporter of ecclesiastical reform, Lambert (1093/94–1115) invested much effort in documenting the legitimate foundation of the bishopric, but even more
so the legal nature of his own appointment, and the moral and juridical rectitude of his reformist policies.15 The Gesta Atrebatensium,
also known as the Register of Lambert, provide us with a wealth of
evidence regarding the creation and earliest history of the bishopric.16 The first part of the Register, most likely compiled in or
shortly after 1095 and arranged in a roughly chronological fashion,
assembles sources (papal privileges, episcopal mandates and letters,
and other types of text) relating to the creation of the bishopric.17 The
second part consists of documents issued and received by Lambert
during his later years as bishop.18
14

Giordanengo, Le registre de Lambert, pp. 10–11.
Giordanengo, Le registre de Lambert, p. 27 and Benoît-Michel Tock, Une chancellerie épiscopale au XIIe siècle: le cas d’Arras (Louvain-la-Neuve, 1991), p. 10. On the
similar attitudes of John of Warneton, bishop of Thérouanne (1099–1130) and another
of Ivo’s students, see Brigitte Meijns,“Without were fightings, within were fears. Pope
Gregory VII, the Canons Regular of Watten and the Reform of the Church in the Diocese
of Thérouanne (c. 1075–c. 1100),” in Law and Power in the Middle Ages. IV. Carlsberg
Academy Conference on Medieval Legal History, Copenhagen 24–26 May 2007, ed.
Per Andersen, Helle Vogt, and Mia Münster-Swendsen (Copenhagen, 2008), pp. 73–96.
16
The full text of the Register, or at least the “first state,” is edited and translated in
French in Giordanengo, Le registre de Lambert. For an exhaustive discussion of its conception and manuscripts, see Kéry, Die Errichtung.
17
Giordanengo, Le registre de Lambert, pp. 13–14.
18
See, among others,Tock, Une chancellerie; Laurent Morelle,“Archives épiscopales
et formulaire de chancellerie au XIIe siècle. Remarques sur les privilèges épiscopaux
connus par le Codex de Lambert de Guînes, évêque d’Arras (1093/94–1115),” in Die
Diplomatik der Bischofsurkunde vor 1250, ed. Christoph Haidacher and Werner
Köfler (Innsbruck, 1995), pp. 255–67; and Laurent Morelle,“La pratique épistolaire de
Lambert, évêque d’Arras (1093–1115),” in Regards sur la correspondance (de Cicéron
à Armand Barbès), ed. Daniel-Odon Hurel (Rouen, 1996), pp. 37–57.
15

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ABBATIAL OBEDIENCE, LITURGICAL REFORM

It is no coincidence that the latter part of the Register devotes
much attention to the bishop’s relations with monastic institutions.
Lambert, whose bishopric lay in one of the regions with the highest
monastic occupation of Western Europe, desperately needed their
support to implement his policies and establish his juridical authority
and fiscal autonomy. The creation of the Bishopric of Arras and his
own appointment had both been hotly contested by anti-Gregorians,
not least by the bishops of Cambrai, whose relations with a number
of monasteries now in Arras had been excellent. Gaining the full—but
by no means a priori guaranteed—cooperation of the leaders of his
monastic houses was therefore vital to maintaining his position.
Despite presiding over a bishopric that was poorer than many of its
monastic institutions, he made donations to several of these houses,
assisted in founding new chapters of regular canons, and supported—
or at least tolerated—the introduction of Cluniac customs in his
monasteries.19 In return, he demanded the support of monastic leaders in imposing his authority and consolidating, as well as financing,
the bishopric’s new institutions.
Lambert’s charters and letters bear witness to the fact that he
incessantly reminded his monastic subjects of their obligation to
show him obedience (oboedientia) and reverence (reverentia).20 A
series of privileges issued by Lambert between 1097 and 1111/12
reveals that he methodically set out to ensure his abbots formally recognized these obligations and to preserve the memory (and hence,
the legal evidence) of such agreements in writing.A recurrent —and
by no means exceptional—reference to these concerns is his insistence on the monasteries’ duty to pay a yearly sum either to him or to
his archdeacon21 and to assist him in the exercise of his office.
Charters issued among others to the abbeys of Saint-Amand (1097)
and Denain (1113) added that it was the obligation of all the male and
19
See Giordanengo, Le registre de Lambert, p. 29 for Lambert’s interest in the Rule
of St. Benedict and the introduction of Cluniac reform. On the reforms, see Etienne
Sabbe,“La réforme clunisienne dans le comté de Flandre au début du XIIe siècle,” Revue
Belge de Philologie et d’Histoire, 9 (1930), 121–38; and Steven Vanderputten,“Fulcard’s
Pigsty. Cluniac Reformers, Dispute Settlement and the Lower Aristocracy in EarlyTwelfth-Century Flanders,” Viator, 38 (2007), 91–115.
20
Regrettably, Charles Dereine’s projected study of Lambert’s policy concerning the
defense of episcopal prerogatives never saw the light of day (see “Les limites de l’exemption monastique dans le diocèse de Thérouanne au XIe siècle: Messines, SaintGeorges-lez-Hesdin et Saint-Bertin,” Mémoires de la Société d’Histoire de Comines,
Warneton et de la Region, 13 [1983], 39–56, here 48n33).
21
Giordanengo, Le registre de Lambert, P 77, P 81, and P 82.

BY STEVEN VANDERPUTTEN

247

female leaders of these houses to attend the synod and sessions of the
episcopal court.22 In 1110 the prior of Abbeville was reminded of his
duty to obey the bishop,23 as was the future head of the priory of
Ambrines, given to the abbey of Sainte-Trinité in Rouen in 1111.24
Privileges granted to confirm the possession of a number of altars and
rights to the abbeys of Saint-Denis of Reims (1097) and Saint-Amand
(1097) indicated that the bishop had to confirm the appointment by
the monks of all priests to these altars.25
Lambert also used his experience of canon law to ensure that he
could influence the recruitment and fidelities of future monastic
leaders. Thus, his insistence that, although monks had the right to
freely elect their abbot, they had to request a permit for election
(licentia eligendi) upon the death of the current abbot is understandable.26 Lambert reserved the right to refuse newly elected
abbots, and several texts in the Register refer to the legal necessity of
his approval.27 When Abbot Gelduinus of Anchin resigned from office
in 1110, the monks sent a letter to Lambert notifying him of Robert’s
election as abbot and requesting his approval.28 Since Robert, for his
part, resigned from office before he had received the bishop’s benediction, the fact that this essentially redundant letter was included in
the Register bears witness to Lambert’s preoccupation with this prerogative. Finally, two charters from 1097 confirm the right of free election respectively to the canons of Mont-Saint-Eloi and Arrouaise, but
stipulate that the prior-elect must pay a visit to the bishop to receive
the benefice of the place (beneficium loci), the cure of souls (cura
animarum), and the abbot’s blessing.29
22

Tock, Les chartes, nn17 (Saint-Amand), 20 (Denain). Benoît-Michel Tock, ed., Les
chartes des évêques d’Arras (1093–1203) (Paris, 1991).
23
Tock, Les chartes, n16.
24
Tock, Les chartes, n18. Similar stipulations were included in contemporary charters of the bishops of Thérouanne. Dereine argues that, even when they were left
unmentioned, such obligations were taken for granted (“Les limites,” p. 48).
25
Tock, Les chartes, nn1, 5. See also nn6 (Saint-Vaast), 9 (Marchiennes), 11
(Maubeuge), 14 (Corbie), 19 (Saint-Pierre in Lille), and 20 (Denain).
26
A vivid description of a contemporary election at the abbey of Saint-Bertin, in the
nearby Diocese of Thérouanne, is found in Simon of Ghent’s Chronicle of the Abbey.
Benjamin Guérard, Le cartulaire de l’abbaye de Saint-Bertin (Paris, 1841), pp. 210–11.
27
Tock, Les chartes, n4; also Giordanengo, Le registre, E 74, E 101, E 102, E 110, E
112, and E 113.
28
Giordanengo, Le registre de Lambert, E 102.
29
Tock, Les chartes, nn3, 4. A charter of 1090 issued by Bishop Radbod of Tournai
confirming the foundation of the abbey of Oudenburg explicitly mentions the neces-

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ABBATIAL OBEDIENCE, LITURGICAL REFORM

The Register thus gives the impression that Lambert was reluctant to stray outside the boundaries of canonic tradition in his
attempts to subject his monastic subjects to his authority.
Contemporary liturgical evidence, however, is revealing in terms of
his attitudes toward both monastic autonomy and the potentially
far-reaching implications of the use of the written word in the benediction ritual.
The Five Abbatial Promises
One of the lesser-known versions of the Register (also known as
the “second state”) includes several miscellaneous sections that
have to date escaped the scrutiny of scholars.30 One of these is
“Formulas Used by the Abbots of the Diocese of Arras, in Which
They Promised Obedience to Bishop Lambert of Arras” (Formulae
quibus usi sunt abbates diocoesis Atrebatensis promittentes obedientiam Lamberto episcopo Atrebatensi; see appendix B).31 What
follows is the text of five promises, only the first of which is reproduced in its entirety, by four abbots and one prior. Seemingly unremarkable for their brevity and formulaic nature, and almost identical to those found in late-twelfth-century ordinals, these are of
particular interest for several reasons. First, as transcriptions of
actual promissiones and certainly as a series of such documents,
they are an early find among the episcopal archives of northern
France.32 Second, because of the preservation of a contemporary
formula for the benediction of abbots, the promises may be compared and analyzed in light of adaptations to the liturgy of abbatial
benediction. Third, because they are preserved as a small collection, hypotheses may be formulated about the circumstances in
which the practice was introduced.

sity of episcopal benediction. Maurits Gysseling and A. C. F. Koch, eds., Diplomata
Belgica ante annum millesimum centesimum scripta (Brussels, 1950), 1:287–88.
30
Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France (hereafter BnF), Ms. Lat. 12827 (c. 1590)
and Cambrai, Bibliothèque Municipale (hereafter BM), 841 (eighteenth century).
31
BnF, Ms. Lat. 12827, fols. 123 r–v; Cambrai, BM, 841, pp. 85–86. The promises also
were transcribed on a loose sheet of paper now preserved in Paris, BnF, Ms. Picardie 60,
fol. 11r (eighteenth century; see Philippe Lauer, Collection manuscrites sur l’histoire
des provinces de France. Inventaire, II [Paris, 1911], pp. 103–04).
32
For a discussion of written promissiones in the neighboring Diocese of Tournai,
see Steven Vanderputten, “Episcopal Benediction and Monastic Autonomy in the Late
Twelfth-Century Bishopric of Tournai: The Curious Blessing of Hugo, First Abbot of
Saint-André (1187/88),” Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, 106 (2011), 37–60.

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249

Before the place of these written promises can be assessed in the
development of canon legislation and liturgical practice, they must be
dated, and their protagonists must be identified. As the title indicates,
Lambert was the bishop taking the promises of all five abbots, which
narrows their dating to c. 1093/94–1115. The abbots in question are
(in order) four Benedictines—Alvisus (1111–31)33 and Gelduin
(1102–10 and briefly 1111) of Anchin,34 Henry of Saint-Vaast
(1104–30),35 and Fulcard of Marchiennes (1102–15)36—and one regular canon, Richard of Mont-Saint-Eloi (1108–34).37 Of these five men,
only Gelduin is designated as “ordained” (ordinatus), whereas the
others are “to be ordained” (ordinandus).This, and the fact that Alard
II of Marchiennes (who briefly held office in 1102–03) is not
included, suggest that the list covers promises pronounced in a
period that falls roughly between the latter half of 1103, around the
time of Fulcard’s benediction, and sometime in 1111, when Alvisus
was confirmed as abbot of Anchin. Table 1 provides a summary of
monastic leaders and the abbatial promissiones potentially submitted
during Lambert’s time in office.
As far as can be ascertained, only Robert of Anchin and Boniface of
Hasnon are missing from the list. Robert resigned so quickly from
33

Alvisus, former monk of Saint-Bertin and prior of the reformed monastery of SaintVaast from 1109, was elected abbot of Anchin in 1111. In 1131 he was appointed bishop
of Arras, an office he held until his death in 1146; see Heinrich Sproemberg, Alvisus, Abt
von Anchin (1111–1131) (Berlin, 1931); Heinrich Sproemberg, notice on Alvisus in
Biographie Nationale, XXXIII (Brussels, 1965), c. 27–35; Jean-Pierre Gerzaguet,
L’abbaye d’Anchin de sa fondation (1079) au XIVe siècle. Essor, vie et rayonnement
d’une grande communauté bénédictine (Villeneuve d’Ascq, 1997), pp. 75–89, 302–03;
and Steven Vanderputten, “A Time of Great Confusion. Second-Generation Cluniac
Reformers and Resistance to Centralization in the County of Flanders (circa 1125–45),”
Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, 102 (2007), 47–75.
34
On Gelduin, a former monk of Anchin, see Gerzaguet, L’abbaye d’Anchin, pp.
75–79, 302.
35
Adolphe De Cardevacque and Auguste Teirninck, L’abbaye de Saint-Vaast.
Monographie historique, archéologique et littéraire de ce monastère (Arras, 1845),
pp. 124–30.
36
Vanderputten,“Fulcard’s Pigsty.”
37
Adolphe De Cardevacque, L’abbaye du Mont-Saint-Éloi 1068–1792 (Arras, 1859),
pp. 20–23; Odile Barubé, L’abbaye du Mont-Saint-Éloi des origines au XIVe siècle
(Poitiers, 1977), pp. 121, 172–73. Mont-Saint-Éloi was the first institution in the bishopric to have made the transition from a relatively loose, secular set-up to a form of
communal life inspired by traditional monasticism. Barubé, L’abbaye, pp. 52–76. On the
earlier history of this institution, see Brigitte Meijns, “Deux fondations exceptionnelles
de collégiales épiscopales à la frontière du comté de Flandre: Maroeuil et le Mont-SaintÉloi (milieu du Xe siècle),” Revue du Nord, 88 (2006), 251–74.

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ABBATIAL OBEDIENCE, LITURGICAL REFORM

TABLE 1. Overview of Monastic Leaders in the Diocese of Arras during
Lambert’s Time in Office
Founded/
Reformed

Abbots/Abbessesa

Institution

Denomination

Anchin

Benedictine
monks

1079

Haimeric (1088–October
19, 1102); Gelduin (late
1102–July 1110; 1111);
Robert (1110–11);
Alvisus (1111–31)

Denain

Benedictine
nuns

Seventh or
eighth century/
reformed c. 1024

Heldiardis (c. 1113)b

Etrun

Benedictine
nuns

1085 (?)

Fulgendis (c. 1088–
before 1119)c

Hasnon

Benedictine
monks

1065

Albert (1091–April 21,
1109); Boniface (1109–
September 13, 1118)d

Seventh century/
reformed 1024

Richard (1091–1102);
Alard II (1102–
September 22, 1103);
Fulcard (1103–15)

Marchiennes Benedictine
monks

Mont-SaintEloi

Regular canons Reformed 1067

John I (c. 1068–1108);
Richard de Wattrelos
(before July 17,
1108–1130)

Saint-Vaast

Benedictine
monks

Adlold (1068–1104);
Henry (1104–30)

a

Seventh century/
reformed 1021

Abbots and priors for whom the promissio is preserved are indicated in boldface type.
Jean-Pierre Gerzaguet, L’abbaye féminine de Denain des origines à la fin du XIIIe
siècle. Histoire et chartes (Paris, 2007), p. 124.
c
Gallia Christiana 3 (Paris, 1725), c. 419; Bernard Delmaire, Le diocèse d’Arras de
1093 au milieu du XIVe siècle. Recherches sur la vie religieuse dans le nord de la
France au moyen âge, 2 vols. (Arras, 1994), p. 201; Bruce L. Venarde, Women’s
Monasticism and Medieval Society. Nunneries in France and England, 890–1215
(Ithaca, NY, 1997), pp. 67, 110–11; Jean-Pierre Gerzaguet,“La fondation d’une communauté de moniales bénédictines à Etrun (diocèse d’Arras-Cambrai en 1088 [?]),” in
Retour aux sources: textes, études et documents d’histoire médiévale offerts à Michel
Parisse, ed. Sylvain Gougenheim (Paris, 2004), pp. 129–41. According to an eighteenthcentury list of abbesses, Fulgendis became abbess in 1086 and died in 1124. Beatrix was
elected as her successor no later than 1118 (BNF Picardie 60, fol. 58r–v).
d
Jules Dewez, Histoire de l’abbaye de St. Pierre d’Hasnon (Lille, 1890), pp. 109–13;
Jean Nazet, “Crises et réformes dans les abbayes Hainuyères du IXe au début du XIIe
siècle,” in Recueil d’études d’histoire Hainuyère offertes à Maurice A. Arnould 1, ed.
Jean-Marie Cauchies and Jean-Marie Duvosquel (Mons, 1983), pp. 478–81.
b

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251

office that he probably did not receive the bishop’s benediction.38
Boniface’s absence is less easy to explain, as his monastery was not
exempt from the usual obligations to the ordinarius. For instance, one
of Lambert’s letters from 1108 calls for the assistance of the abbots of
Saint-Vaast, Marchiennes, Hasnon, and Anchin at a session of the episcopal court.39 Nevertheless, Boniface’s name itself is conspicuously
absent from the Register and from the lists of witnesses of charters
issued by Lambert, suggesting perhaps that this abbot was less
involved in the exercise of episcopal authority than some of his colleagues. For all we know, he may have refused to promise obedience.
Alternatively, the original of his promise may have been lost at an early
date, and the list may have been incomplete from its inception.
In any case, the list of promises comprises all but one (or, less likely,
two) of those potentially made by the newly elected heads of communities of Benedictine monks and regular canons in the Diocese of
Arras between 1103 and Lambert’s death in 1115. For those abbots,
priors, and abbesses from the diocese who had held office at the time
of Lambert’s election, there had been no formal need for such a promise, as they had evidently been consecrated by one of his predecessors. To accommodate the juridical problem caused by the fact that
they had previously promised obedience to the bishop of
Cambrai/Arras, on March 25 or 26, 1094 Urban II had issued a letter
liberating all abbots (Adlold of Saint-Vaast, Richard of Marchiennes,
Albert of Hasnon, and Haimeric of Anchin) and abbesses (unnamed
heads of Denain and Etrun) of the diocese and their subjects from
their obligations to the bishop of Cambrai and ordaining them to obey
the new bishop of Arras.40 When a new generation of abbots was
elected, Lambert complemented this document of juridical significance with written records of the actual promises as they had been
pronounced, thus creating a body of evidence that clearly attested to
his belief that the survival of the bishopric itself depended on the
continued collaboration between himself and these powerful men.
Whether or not such documents were ever made for the two missing
heads of female monasteries cannot be verified.

38

Gerzaguet, L’abbaye d’Anchin, p. 302.
Giordanengo, Le registre de Lambert, Q 88. For a general discussion of the role of
abbots as witnesses in the episcopal charters of Arras, see Benoît-Michel Tock,“Les listes
des témoins dans les chartes des évêques d’Arras (1093–1203),”Archiv für Diplomatik,
37 (1991), 85–118.
40
Giordanengo, Le registre de Lambert, G 29.
39

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ABBATIAL OBEDIENCE, LITURGICAL REFORM

Liturgical Innovation in Arras
In his charters, letters, and other documents, Lambert only refers to
ecclesiastical legislation regarding the obligation of abbatial obedience and not to the fact that abbots were actually expected to make
a formal, and personalized, promise to that effect at the time of their
benediction. In the privileges of Abbeville and Sainte-Trinité, he
retraces its origin to canon 8 of the Council of Chalcedon—just as his
master, Ivo of Chartres, had done in his writings41—and to its confirmation by Urban II at the Council of Clermont in 1095.42 Such arguments could be expected of a man trained as a specialist in ecclesiastical legislation.The Collectio of Arras, a canonical manuscript dated
after 1078 but before 1096/99, may have originated under his supervision and carries some resemblance to the work of Ivo of Chartres.43
Lambert certainly encouraged, or at least allowed for, intensive study
of its contents during his first years in office. The Collectio 9 librorum, another manuscript written by his former fellow student (and
future bishop of Thérouanne) John of Warneton, was partially based
on the Collectio of Arras and was presumably written during John’s
time as archdeacon in Arras.44
41
The comments of his master, Ivo of Chartres, on this subject in his Panormia, presumably written in the early years of Lambert’s episcopacy, are based precisely on
canon 8 of Chalcedon (Panormia, bk. III, chap. 147; the best current edition is a provisional one by Bruce Brasington and Martin Brett, at http://wtfaculty.wtamu.edu/~bbrasington/panormia.html; accessed March 2, 2010). In his Decretum, which preceded the
Panormia, he also included the chapter “That Abbots Must Be under the Power of
Bishops” (Ut abbates in potestate episcoporum consistant), quoted from canon 42 of
the Council of Arles (Decretum, bk. VII, chap. 85; http://project.knowledgeforge.net/
ivo/decretum/ivodec_7_1p4.pdf; accessed March 2, 2010).
42
Giordanengo, Le registre de Lambert, P 83 and P 85. The relevant Chalcedon
canon is edited in Paulus Hinschius, Decretales Pseudo-Isidorianae et Capitula
Angilramni (Leipzig, 1863), p. 286, c. 8.There is no “official” collection of canons from
the Council of Clermont, but one canon dealing with this subject is c. 9 of the Oxford
collection (ed. Robert Somerville, Decreta Claromontensia (Amsterdam, 1972), pp. 58,
114, 149). See also Ludwig Falkenstein,“Monachisme et pouvoir hiérarchique à travers
les textes pontificaux (Xe–XIIe siècles),” in Moines et monastères dans les sociétés de
rite grec et latin, ed. Jean-Loup Lemaître (Geneva, 1996), pp. 389–418.
43
Arras, Médiathèque, 425; see Lotte Kéry, Canonical Collections of the Early
Middle Ages (ca. 400–1140). A Bibliographical Guide to the Manuscripts and
Literature (Washington, DC, 1999), p. 279; and Linda Fowler-Magerl, Clavis canonum:
Selected Canon Law Collections before 1140;Access with Data Processing (Hannover,
2005), pp. 206–07.
44
Ghent, University Library, 235; the most acceptable dating is between early 1096
and summer 1099. L. Waelkens and D. Van den Auweele,“La collection de Thérouanne
en IX livres à l’abbaye de Saint-Pierre-au-Mont-Blandin: le codex Gandavensis 235,”

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253

However, Lambert and his abbots undoubtedly were aware that his
predecessors in Cambrai/Arras had reshaped liturgical tradition to
focus attention on abbatial obedience.These interventions can be witnessed in the Cambrai ordinale, a liturgical handbook written
around the middle of the eleventh century for use by Gerard I
(1012–51) or his successor, Lietbert (1051–76) of Cambrai/Arras.45
Based for the most part on the Romano-Germanic pontifical and
Regino of Prüm’s handbook of canon law, the manuscript added significant sections and formulas sourced from other traditions such as
the important one formulated originally by Gennadius of Marseille in
the late-fifth century that pertained to the scrutinium, or interrogation of newly elected abbots before the local bishop blessed them.46
According to a crucial passage in the ordinale’s lengthy benediction
formula, the bishop was to ask the abbot:“Do you wish to show your
submission and obedience to the holy Church of Cambrai, to me and
to my successors, as prescribed by canonical authority and the
decrees of the holy pontiffs?”47 The abbot’s answer then had to be “I
do” or, literally,“I wish” (volo).This was a significant shift in meaning
from previous traditions regarding the benediction of abbots, where
“in contrast with secular fidelity and obedience, [the promise of obedience] expressed the monk’s renunciation of will rather than the
superior’s power or authority.”48 For example, the benediction forSacris Erudiri, 24 (1980), 115–53; Meijns, “Without were fightings,” p. 73; also Kéry,
Canonical Collections, pp. 262–63; and Fowler-Magerl, Clavis Canonum, pp. 209–14.
45
Cologne, Erzbischöfliche Diözesan- und Dombibliothek, 141. On the dating and
the contents of this volume, see Michel Andrieu, Les ordines Romani du Haut Moyen
Age I. Les manuscrits (Louvain, 1931), pp. 108–14; Sigrid Schulten,“Die Buchmalerei des
11. Jahrhunderts im Kloster St. Vaast in Arras,” Münchener Jahrbuch der bildenden
Kunst, 7 (1956), 49–90, here 64–66; Andreas Odenthal and Joachim M. Plotzek,
“Pontificale Cameracense,” in Glaube und Wissen im Mittelalter. Die Kölner
Dombibliothek. Katalogbuch zur Ausstellung Glaube und Wissen im Mittelalter – die
Kölner Dombibliothek, Erzbischöfliches Diözesanmuseum Köln, 7. August bis 15.
November 1998, ed. Joachim M. Plotzek (Munich, 1998), pp. 405–08; and Diane J. Reilly,
The Art of Reform in Eleventh-Century Flanders: Gerard of Cambrai, Richard of
Saint-Vanne, and the Saint-Vaast Bible (Boston, 2006), pp. 115–19, 185.
46
Cologne, Erzbischöfliche Diözesan- und Dombibliothek, 141, fols. 135r–40r; on the
origins of the scrutinium, see Grélois,“La promesse,” p. 308.
47
“Vis sanctae [Cameracensi] ecclesie et michi meisque successoribus subiectionem
et oboedientiam exhibere secundum canonicam auctoritatem et decreta sanctorum
pontificum?” Respondat: “Volo.” The reference to Cambrai was erased after 1093–94,
when the monks of Saint-Vaast, the apparent owners of the manuscript, came under the
authority of the bishop of Arras.
48
Giles Constable, Three Treatises from Bec on the Nature of Monastic Life
(Buffalo, NY, 2008), p. 22.

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ABBATIAL OBEDIENCE, LITURGICAL REFORM

mula in the tenth-century Romano-Germanic Pontifical did not refer
in any way to abbatial obedience; instead, it focused on the newly
elected abbot’s willingness to observe his purpose (propositum) and
the Rule of St. Benedict, and to instruct his subjects to do the same.49
Other pontificals from the ninth century up to the middle of the
eleventh include, for the most part, very brief blessing formulae. None
of these refer to any meaning of obedience other than those traditionally attributed in monastic culture itself.50 Thus, in its description
of abbatial benediction, the Cambrai ordinale represents an
approach to the relationship between a bishop and his abbots that
broke with tradition. It also is the earliest known example of a spoken
promissio that—sometimes with slight variations in the word order—
would find broad acceptance more than a century later. Victor
Leroquais’s monumental work on pontificals in French library collections includes at least two-dozen examples of such formulas, the earliest of which originates from Chartres and dates from the second half
or end of the twelfth century.51
By that time, bishops had developed an even more complex scenario for the benediction ritual, and this, too, is reflected in the pontificals. After the abbot had been interrogated and after he had replied
to the bishop’s questions in the affirmative, he, according to some
handbooks, was expected to read a document (promissio) aloud in
which he proclaimed his subjection (subiectio), reverence (reverentia), and obedience (obedientia) to the ordinarius. Following this,
the promissio was placed on the altar and “written [i.e., subscribed]
by the abbot.”52 From the late-twelfth century onward, there also exist
49
Cyrille Vogel and Reinhard Elze, Le Pontifical Romano-Germanique du dixième
siècle. Le texte I (Vatican City, 1963), p. 62.
50
Niels Krogh Rasmussen’s study of pontificals from the ninth to the early-eleventh
century has shown that abbatial benediction formulas were very succinct (Les pontificaux du haut moyen âge. Genèse du livre de l’évêque [Leuven, 1998]). In the earlytenth-century sacramentary of St. Petersburg, originating from Sens, the benedictio ad
abbatem faciendum vel abbatissam is as follows: “Concede quaesumus omnipotens
Deus ut famulum tuum ill. vel illam nostra electione placeamus. Per Dominum”
(Rasmussen, Les pontificaux du haut moyen âge, p. 107). More elaborate, but still lacking the interrogation of the abbot, is the pontifical from Sherborne Cathedral, dating
back to the second half of the tenth century (Rasmussen, Les pontificaux du haut
moyen âge, pp. 311–13).
51
Victor Leroquais, Les pontificaux manuscrits des bibliothèques publiques de
France, 4 vols. (Paris, 1937), II:19. Another notable example is an early-thirteenth-century ordinale from Cambrai (Leroquais, Les pontificaux I:98–99).
52
Ordinale of Odo of Montaigu, described in Leroquais, Les pontificaux II:79.

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255

dozens of actual promissiones, preserved either as loose documents
(chartulae or scedulae) or annotated in the margins and on the end
leaves of cartularies and pontificals.53 The introduction of the written
promissio in the benediction ritual should not be interpreted merely
as the result of efforts to accommodate the growing impact of the
written word in contemporary government and jurisdiction. In fact,
the earliest references to the use of the written promissio in the
benediction ritual are contemporary to the Cambrai ordinale. On the
flyleaf of the ordinale used by the bishops of Lyon, there is a promise
made by the abbot of Saint-Martin-d’Ainay to Archbishop Halinard of
Lyon (1046–52).54 In the Anglo-Norman kingdom, Archbishop
Lanfranc (1070–89) probably was responsible for the introduction of
a similar formula in the 1070s.55 In 1088, the Norman bishop Odo of
Bayeux demanded a written promise from Abbot Arnoul of Troan, but
the following year, Abbot Serlo of St. Evroult refused to give a similar
document to Gilbert, bishop of Lisieux.56 As early as c. 1124, the “definitive” version of the promissio formula as found (with minor variations) in the late-twelfth- and thirteenth-century ordinals was used by
Herbert, abbot of Saint-Seine, to promise obedience to Guillenc,
bishop of Langres.57 This evolution toward the use and fixed formula
of the promissio was by no means linear or universal. In a pontifical
from Aurillac that is contemporary to Herbert’s promise, the formula
for the benediction of abbots contains no reference at all to a promise of obedience, let alone to a written promissio.58
These fragmentary indications leave us in the dark as to when
and where the liturgical formula that included the written promissio emerged and in what circumstances the actual text of the
promissio, as it later would become standard practice, was conceived. It is, however, possible, to identify several periods where evidence for the attempted introduction of the promissio converges.
As Giles Constable has shown and as Herbert’s promise suggests, the
years 1120–30 compose one such period. In a treatise on the profession of abbots, an anonymous monk from Bec, presumably writing in the 1130s, fulminated against the introduction of the written
53

Grélois,“La promesse,” pp. 308–10.
Leroquais, Les pontificaux II:235.
55
Constable,“Abbatial Profession,” p. 113, with references.
56
Constable, “Abbatial Profession,” p. 116; also Gazeau, Normannia monastica.
Princes normands, p. 81.
57
Leroquais, Les pontificaux II:147.
58
Leroquais, Les pontificaux II:11.
54

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ABBATIAL OBEDIENCE, LITURGICAL REFORM

promissio, calling it an “unmerited novelty” (inmerita novitas) and
arguing that to complement the oral promise with a written version
transformed the canonical promise into something akin to the secular homage and an obligation of service.59 His arguments were by
no means the product of an overactive imagination—bishops were
indeed pushing toward a definition of obedience as an obligation of
service, finding support within the First Lateran Council of 1123,
which formally acknowledged a “secular” interpretation of monastic
obedience by arguing that monks were obliged to show the bishops
obedience and subjection in all.60 In the thirteenth-century pontifical of the Roman Curia, an oath of fidelity even formally replaced
the promise of obedience.61
This intended shift in meaning and the far-reaching implications
thereof is reflected in the few written promissiones that are preserved for the period up to the middle of the twelfth century.
Regarding those made to Halinard, archbishop of Lyon, the abbot had
to “promise in front of God and his saints and the present altar . . .
honourable subjection to Lord Halinard and his successors . . . and his
authority.”62 The model for a promissio found in a late-eleventh- or
early-twelfth-century ordinale for Châlons was more explicit, but at
least the promise was still made to the episcopal see and not to the
bishop in person:
I N., now to be ordained, promise that I shall show in perpetuity and sign
with my own hand the subjection and reverence established by the holy
Fathers and obedience according to the precept of the holy Bishop
Augustine to the holy church of the see of Châlons in the presence of the
lord bishop N.63

Finally, the one eventually adopted in many manuals of the late-twelfth
and thirteenth centuries was more far-reaching in including the promise of “subjection and reverence . . . and obedience . . . to this holy see
59
Edited in Constable, Three Treatises, pp. 107–33, with comments on p. 26; see also
Jean Leclercq,“Un traité sur ‘la profession des abbes’ au XIIe siècle,” Analecta Monastica
(Studia Anselmiana, 50) (Rome, 1962), pp. 177–91, and Constable, “Abbatial
Profession.”
60
Leon F. Strieder, The Promise of Obedience. A Ritual History (Collegeville, MN,
2001), p. 61; on the pope’s attitude, see Constable,“Abbatial Profession,” pp. 114–15.
61
Strieder, The Promise, pp. 60–61.
62
“. . . promitto coram Deo et sanctis eius et hoc presenti altare . . . dignam subiectionem domini Halinardi…” Leroquais, Les pontificaux II:235, emphasis added.
63
Quoted and translated in Constable,“Abbatial Profession,” p. 112.

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257

. . . and to you, father bishop, and your successors.” In some cases,
abbots were happy to accept these implications, but not for reasons
that were necessarily identical to those of their ordinarius.
Competition between monasteries could be one of these: in 1134, the
abbot of Le Pin claimed that the newly founded Cistercian monastery
of Mortemer should recognize its dependency from his own institution. Abbot Alexander of Mortemer, clearly seeking to establish his
authority as an independent monastic leader, argued before Hugo III,
archbishop of Rouen, that the abbot of Le Pin had “liberated me in the
hand of the archbishop” and that he himself had “done the profession
[to the latter] in writing and in speech, according to ecclesiastical
custom.”64 Yet, although he and Heribert of Saint-Seine agreed to produce a written promissio, several of their contemporaries strongly
resisted the practice because of the aforementioned implications. In
1118/24, the abbey of Marmoutier and Gilbert, archbishop of Tours,
reached an agreement that the abbot would be blessed “without
investigation, without writing, without profession.”65 Pope Calixtus II
probably supported this agreement and issued a privilege in 1122
freeing St. Florence in Saumur from the profession, but without referring to written practices.66
These indications allow us to conclude that the third and fourth
decades of the twelfth century were by all accounts a decisive phase
in the use of written promissiones, even if it would take at least half
a century before these changes became apparent in liturgical handbooks. The five examples in Lambert’s Register, however, push the
first attested use of the “definitive” formula nearly a quarter of a century back in time, thus belying the notion that the new meaning of the
promise was only consolidated in the 1120s–40s. This in itself is not
surprising, as debates over monastic autonomy had been ongoing
since the final decades of the eleventh century. Constable’s contextu64
J. Bouvet, ed., “Le Récit de la fondation de Mortemer,” in Collectanea ordinis
Cisterciensium reformatorum, 22 (1960), 149–68, here 156, emphasis added.A similar
episode occurred in 1188, when the community of Sint-Andries near the Flemish town
of Bruges attempted to relinquish its status as a priory of the abbey of Affligem.A contemporary account of its new leader’s frantic quest around the episcopal courts of the
region to receive abbatial benediction is found in Charles Van Den Haute, ed., “Une
chronique inédite de l’abbaye de Saint-André-lez-Bruges du XIIe–XIIIe siècle,” Annales
de la Société d’Emulation de Bruges 59 (1909), 284–302; see also Vanderputten,
“Episcopal Benediction.”
65
Quoted in Constable, Three Treatises, p. 27n85.
66
Constable,“Abbatial Profession,” p. 114.

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ABBATIAL OBEDIENCE, LITURGICAL REFORM

alization of the introduction of the written promissio—as an instrument of episcopal control—therefore continues to hold water.67
For a man well versed in the study of liturgical and canonic traditions, it would be surprising to find that Lambert had not anchored
the practices of which there are the five concrete examples in a liturgical formula, as had been the case at Châlons. An Ordo ad
monachum abbatem faciendum at the end of a contemporary copy
of the Rule of St. Benedict made for use at Arras cathedral confirms his
interest in changing liturgical tradition (see appendix A).68 Retaining
almost nothing from the lengthy ordo in the Cambrai ordinale
(which, it should be noted, was kept at the time at the abbey of SaintVaast in Arras), the new ordo contained relatively few choreographic
instructions, focusing instead on the recitation of prayers and hymns
and on the interrogation of the candidate-elect. Once that part of the
ritual had been completed, the candidate had to read aloud from a
document (scedula) that contained his promise.The prescribed contents of the scedula are identical to the five abbatial promises.Thus,
this earliest documented appearance in a French liturgical handbook
of the formula of the written promise can be studied in conjunction
with a coherent body of texts relating to its application.69 Such innovations, even for a bishop considered by scholars to be a man of moderate attitudes toward his monastic subjects, were neither innocent
nor insignificant.
Ideological and Formal Implications of the Promissiones
Of course, the early appearance of the extended benediction ritual
and the written promissio in Arras does not necessarily mean that
they were conceived there.The contemporary ordinale from Châlons

67
Constable,“Abbatial Profession,” pp. 106–08; on the beginnings of the oral promissio in Normandy, see Gazeau, Normannia monastica. Princes normands, p. 80.
68
Arras, Médiathèque, 1031 (olim 745), fols. 21r–23v, with the promise on fols. 22r–v;
see Reilly, The Art of Reform, pp. 117–20. Besides the Rule and the ordo ad monachum
faciendum, the manuscript also contains an ordo for the consecration of abbesses.
Since only twenty-nine folios remain of what originally would have been a volume of
at least seventy, we can only guess about the material that the manuscript originally
contained. See Henri Loriquet, Rapport présenté à M. le ministre de l’instruction
publique sur l’identification de fragments de manuscrits trouvés à Calais, en 1884
suivi d’un tableau des déprédations commises en 1816 sur les Manuscrits de la
Bibliothèque d’Arras (Arras, 1886), p. 27.
69
Bibolet,“Serments”; Grélois,“La promesse,” pp. 310, 312.

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259

suggests that others were working with similar formulae, and until
new evidence comes to light, the safest option is probably to assume
that at the time several models were circulating among bishops keen
to take action against monastic autonomy.70 The inspiration for its
contents and physical format certainly derived from various sources.
Although scholars have sometimes argued that the consecration of
bishops inspired the ritual of the benediction of abbots,71 the use of
the written word in the context of these rituals in contrast reminds of
the monastic petitio. Like Benedict who had instructed those novices
wishing to enter the monastic life, the benediction ordo instructs the
candidate to confirm the promise “by his own hand.”72 It certainly
does not seem too far-fetched to imagine a scribe working at Arras
cathedral preparing the document for the benediction ceremony and
handing it to the newly elected abbot for the latter to subscribe it
immediately after the scrutinium.73 The kinship of the monastic vows
and the abbatial benediction was in fact not a new invention. As we
have seen, benediction formulae from before 1050, even though they
do not refer to the written promissio, are more akin to the monastic
vows with respect to ideology than the one found in the Cambrai
ordinale.74 Although Lambert was not inclined to abandon the more
secular interpretation of abbatial obedience of his immediate predecessors, his choice to use a formula inspired once again by monastic
liturgy makes sense. Rather than subscribing to a nuptial or baptismal
interpretation of obedience, his benediction formula referred to the
formal implications of the professio, which Benedict himself had indicated embodied the irrevocable nature of the candidate’s vows.
The contents and the formal appearance of these documents thus
indicate that Lambert intended to bestow them with a legal and
memorial value and a potential for concrete use comparable to that of
the petitio.The fact that he insisted on such written practices can be
70
Lambert himself received a fairly detailed letter about the necessity of abbatial
obedience from Archbishop Raoul of Soissons (Giordanengo, Le registre de Lambert, E
31), attesting to the fact that the matter was indeed discussed among prelates in office.
71
Reinhardt,“Die Abtsweihe.”
72
In charters, the exact meaning of this expression could vary from the physical
authorship of a document to the mere approbation of a juridical act; see Benoît-Michel
Tock, Scribes, souscripteurs et témoins dans les actes privés en France (VIIe–début
XIIe siècle) (Turnhout, 2005), pp. 118–20.
73
Grélois,“La promesse,”p. 312, quotes examples of late-twelfth- and early-thirteenthcentury promissiones from Troyes that were all written by scribes but were subscribed
by several inexperienced, most likely abbatial, hands.
74
See, among others, Strieder, The Promise, pp. 58–59.

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ABBATIAL OBEDIENCE, LITURGICAL REFORM

interpreted as an effort by him and his clerics to preserve the memory
of these promises and, more important perhaps, to ensure that the
abbots in question and their superiors could be confronted with evidence of their acknowledgment of subordination to the bishop.
Perhaps this argument was put to use when Fulcard, abbot of
Marchiennes, refused to come to the episcopal court between 1108
and 1110 to answer accusations of misconduct.75 Lambert’s letter
from 1110 convoking Fulcard to the Council of Reims, rather than
focusing on the accusations about his behavior, emphatically referred
to his duty of obedience. Looking at the list in which these promises
are preserved,76 it also is worth noting that the compilers found it
useful to preserve the record of Gelduin’s promise even after Alvisus’s
election. Considering the methods of preserving monastic petitiones,
this is not at all surprising. Given the turbulent history of Anchin in
recent years (Gelduin resigned in 1110 and was replaced by Robert
who resigned almost immediately), and given the fact that Gelduin
died only in 1123, we may interpret this as proof that such a promise
was considered to be valid formally until a former abbot could no
longer return to office.This suggests that such records were intended
to be kept in the episcopal archives for as long as any of the previously elected abbots could take office in one of the bishopric’s
monasteries and, indeed, for as long as the person in question—just
like a monk who had made his vows—lived.This leads us to the conclusion that, in all likelihood, the list of promises in the Register comprises complete (in the case of Alvisus) or partial (all others) transcriptions of loose documents not dissimilar in use and purpose to
the monastic petitio and that these were kept in the bishop’s archives
at least until the promise-giver had died.
To make this resemblance work, however, the bishop and his collaborators inserted references to contemporary diplomatic practice
into the actual promise documents. The intention behind the confirmatory cross at the end of Alvisus’s promise (although only attested
to in two copies of the list) was presumably to show its origins as a
real, legally significant, diplomatic document.77 Later references in
75
Giordanengo, Le registre de Lambert, E 111; regarding Fulcard, see Vanderputten,
“Fulcard’s Pigsty.”
76
The list roughly corresponds with the order in which the heads of local monasteries were listed as witnesses to episcopal charters.According to Tock (“Les temoins”),
this order reflects the status of the different institutions.
77
A good example is Lambert’s charter from 1111 for the canons of Saint-Pierre in
Lille (Tock, Les chartes, n19); quoted in Tock, Scribes, p. 357, with further discussion of

BY STEVEN VANDERPUTTEN

261

pontificals to the subscriptio of these documents and the actual evidence found on the original promissiones from late-twelfth-century
Troyes indicate that it is indeed likely that the abbots from Arras had
been asked to physically sign the document.Therefore, the introduction of the promissiones into liturgical practices, their preservation in
the episcopal archives, and the composition of the list itself can be
used as evidence in current debates about medieval “cartularization,”
or the application of broader textual strategies embedded in the
social objectives of its makers.78 So, regardless of the question of
whether or not the list of promises was included in the original version of the Register, or even if it was actually compiled during
Lambert’s lifetime, this suggests that both the bishop’s administration
and the bishop himself insisted on recording the promises made by
the local abbots—and possibly even replicating their specific form in
copies of the originals as well—so that the message conveyed by the
formal characteristics of the texts could be retained. The fact that
these were then kept in the bishopric’s archives and most likely (if
implicitly) referred to when abbots subsequently refused to assist him
in the exercise of his office attests to their significance not only as
memorial and juridical tools but also as real instruments of episcopal
government. In this respect as well, Lambert is an exceptionally early
example of a bishop keeping systematic record (be it in their original
form or as copies) of abbatial promises.
The Threat of Monastic Independence
The insistence of Lambert and some of his contemporaries on preserving these records reveals his determination to use the written
word as a warranty of his authority. Yet, as we have seen, the formal
recording of promises may not have begun until 1103, and Lambert
may have consecrated at least one abbot without using the new forthe use of crosses on pp. 351–60. According to Tock, there are indications that some
crosses found in the episcopal charters of Lambert and Alvisus (the latter was bishop
of Arras in 1131–46) were drawn by the bishops themselves (Tock, Une chancellerie,
p. 99, with references to Tock, Les chartes, nn1, 9, 14, 19, 61, 71, 77, 79). Further reading
in Michel Parisse,“Croix autographes de souscription dans l’Ouest de la France au XIe
siècle,” in Graphische Symbole in mittelalterlichen Urkunden. Beiträge zur diplomatischen Semiotik, ed. Peter Rück (Sigmaringen, 1996), pp. 143–56.
78
For an outstanding overview of current trends in this field of medieval studies, see
Pierre Chastang,“Cartulaires, cartularisation et scripturalité médiévale: la structuration
d’un nouveau champ de recherché,” Cahiers de Civilisation Médiévale, 49 (2006),
21–31.

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mula.This raises the question as to whether the timing of the earliest
pieces is a coincidence and whether it can tell us something about
the timing of the introduction of the written promissio itself. As the
evidence and Lambert’s own antecedents suggest, he may have been
part of a broader movement that considered this an appropriate
instrument of episcopal authority, although if, when, and how he
would apply it remained essentially his decision. After all, this
required important adaptations to the liturgy, but, more important,
was an act that undoubtedly would provoke reactions from his
monastic subjects. The aforementioned examples of abbots who,
already resentful of having to perform a spoken promise, refused to
sign a written promissio are telling in that respect. In light of
Lambert’s still-fragile authority, introducing such new formulae and
risking an open confrontation with one of his newly elected abbots,
even if it potentially could strengthen his public authority, was a decision not to be taken lightly. The fact that the promissio did turn up in
the Diocese of Arras therefore suggests that Lambert, pressured by circumstances, felt compelled to make a public gesture that emphasized
his canonical authority, but, at the same time, jeopardized the stability
of his government.
According to Diane Reilly, the ordo ad monachum faciendum in
the Arras manuscript can be dated to c. 1093–1115. Her terminus
ante quem is based on paleographic grounds and the assumption that
the introduction of Cluniac customs in the Benedictine monasteries
of the bishopric subsequently nullified the relevance of the benediction ritual as described in this particular manuscript. Saint-Vaast was
reformed in 1109.79 Anchin, previously under the influence of Cluny,
certainly adopted the customs following the election of Alvisus, a
former monk of Saint-Bertin who was involved as prior in the reform
of Saint-Vaast, in 1111. Marchiennes was reformed in 1115–16.80
However, to claim that the ordo—as it was included in the Arras manuscript—had lost its relevance with the reforms is to disregard the
specific nature of Cluniac reform in the county of Flanders and its
neighboring regions. Although most Benedictine institutions in the
79
Sabbe,“La réforme,” p. 133.This happened not without resistance from within the
community, some members of which retreated to the priory of Haspres and attempted
to have it recognized by the pope as an independent monastery. Jean-François
Lemarignier,“Le prieuré d’Haspres, ses rapports avec l’abbaye de Saint-Vaast d’Arras et
la centralisation monastique au début du XIIe siècle,” Revue du Nord, 29 (1947),
261–68.
80
Vanderputten,“Fulcard’s Pigsty.”

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263

Southern Low Countries were indeed reformed during the first
decades of the twelfth century, no independent monastery was ever
formally transferred to the authority of the abbot of Cluny, and territorial lords and bishops insisted on negotiating a legal status for the
reformed houses that ensured their continuing involvement in these
institutions. The dating of the promises does confirm, however, that
the ordo was written at the latest in the latter half of 1103, long
before any of the institutions in the bishopric were reformed.
If the ordo can therefore be dated to c. 1093–1103, the question
remains as to why the earliest evidence of its actual application, the
written record of Gelduin’s promise, apparently indicates that the
latter had promised obedience after receiving his benediction. The
answer to this question has to be hypothetical, as the relevant narrative and archival sources are scarce and allow only for ambiguous
interpretations. As a church leader, Lambert took part in a broader
trend among bishops from the region—including those of Amiens,
Cambrai, Châlons-sur-Marne, Chartres (with Ivo of Chartres himself
holding on firmly to the tuitio episcopalis), Paris, Thérouanne, and
Tournai—of growing vigilance with regard to the defense of episcopal prerogatives and of resistance to a trend toward monastic autonomy, both in juridical and financial terms.81 Urban II supported at
least some institutions that were looking to expand their exemptions
from episcopal authority and was instrumental in freeing a number of
monastic institutions from the abbatial profession; such privileges are
already known for the years 1096 and 1098.82 Lambert, as might be
expected from any bishop, did not miss any opportunities to assert his
episcopal rights and indicated in his early charters that he intended
to hold on to the obedience of his ecclesiastical subjects.Yet, by the
look of these and subsequent documents, the canonical basis of his
policy hardly gave the appearance of being in a state of transition.
81
Charles Dereine, “Gérard, évêque de Thérouanne (1083–1096) face aux moines
exempts. Le cas des prieurés de Nieppe, Andres et Framecourt,” Mémoires de la Société
d’Histoire de Comines, Warneton et de la Region, 10 (1980), 249–64, and Dereine,“Les
limites,” esp. pp. 52–53. For further reading on exemption, see the references in
Dereine’s “Les limites” and (among others) Jean-François Lemarignier, “L’exemption
monastique et les origines de la réforme grégorienne,” in A Cluny, Congrès scientifique
9-11.7.1949 (Dijon, 1950), pp. 288–340; Ludwig Falkenstein, La papauté et les abbayes
francaise aux XIe et XIIe siècles. Exemption et protection apostolique (Paris, 1997);
and Arnaud Delerce,“Election abbatiale et exemption episcopale. Un nouveau texte de
Calixte II pour Aulps (28 avril 1119),” in Aspects diplomatiques des voyages pontificaux, ed. Bernard Barbiche and Rolf Grosse (Paris, 2009), pp. 117–40.
82
Constable,“Abbatial Profession,” pp. 113–14.

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Despite the pro-reformist stance of Ivo of Chartres, his canonical writings from the final decade of the eleventh century essentially held on
to the same ideas and principles as the authors of the Cambrai ordinale, as did the anonymous Collectio of Arras (c. 1078–1096/99) and
John of Thérouanne’s Collectio 9 librorum (1096–99).83
Soon, however, several of Lambert’s colleagues from the region
became aware that monasteries in the region were being thrown into
a real state of turmoil. In 1101, in the nearby Diocese of Thérouanne,
Count Robert II of Flanders and his wife, Clementia, members of the
Flemish nobility, and Bishop John of Thérouanne had, after several
years of uncertainty, reached an agreement over the Cluniac reform of
the abbey of Saint-Bertin.84 From there, the abbey of Auchy-lesMoines, in the same diocese, was reformed in the same year.85
Although such reforms were to spread over the entire region, none of
the reformed houses would subsequently be formally associated with
the Cluniac network. In 1103, however, Count Baldwin of Hainaut and
his wife, Ida, became responsible for the sole exception to this rule by
donating the priory of Saint-Saulve, in the Diocese of Cambrai, to
Cluny.86 Although Archbishop Manasses II of Reims stipulated in his
confirmation charter that the priory was still subject to the authority
of the ordinarius,87 the transferral did disturb the political and patrimonial networks of the local lay elite88 and undoubtedly alerted the
bishops from the region to the future possibility of similar events.89
83

On Ivo, see also Constable,“Abbatial Profession,” p. 108.
Sabbe,“La réforme,” pp. 131–32.
85
Sabbe,“La réforme,” p. 132.
86
Charles Dereine,“La donation par Baudouin III, comte de Hainaut de Saint-Saulve
près de Valenciennes à Cluny (1103),” Sacris Erudiri, 26 (1983), 119–53.
87
“salva . . . in omnibus subiectione et obedientia Cameracensis ecclesia . . .” Charter
edited in Albertus Miraeus and Johannes Franciscus Foppens, Opera diplomatica et historica, vol. 2 (Louvain and Brussels, 1723), pp. 957–98n38; see Dereine,“La donation.”
When Pope Paschalis II issued a privilege confirming the properties and rights of the
abbey of Affligem, he also stipulated that the abbot had to show the bishop canonica
reverentia. Johannes Ramackers, ed., Papsturkunden in den Niederländen (Belgien,
Luxembourg, Holland und Französisch Flandern). II. Urkunden (Berlin, 1934), pp.
92–94.
88
Vanderputten,“Fulcard’s Pigsty.”
89
This does not mean that Lambert was averse to reform. In 1110 he brought the
priory of Saint-Pry under the authority of Saint-Pierre in Abbeville, a Cluniac monastery
(Gerzaguet, L’abbaye d’Anchin, p. 128), and the Register itself contains two letters indicating that Lambert intervened to facilitate the appointment of Alvisus as abbot of
Anchin.When he wrote these letters, he was fully aware of Alvisus’s reformist intentions
(Giordanengo, Le registre de Lambert, E 113, E 114).
84

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Even the status of the other reformed houses was no longer entirely
certain. In 1111 Abbot Pontius of Cluny would disturb the reformist
movement by challenging Saint-Bertin’s claims to independence, and
it would take a papal privilege to prevent the annexation of the abbey
by the Burgundian monastery and its network.90
One of those whose authority, legal, and fiscal situation were most
critically at risk was Lambert himself. Presiding over a controversial
new bishopric with institutions in full formation, he hardly would
have welcomed the possibility of monastic wealth and the selection
of abbots falling into alien hands. The prospect of reforms and their
consequences for the juridical and fiscal position of the ordinarius
also loomed large as a risk to episcopal authority because of previous
tensions with monastic leaders as well as attempts—particularly by
Abbot Haimeric of Anchin (1088–1102)—to expand their institutions
and temporal wealth beyond the borders of the bishopric. As early as
1088,Anchin, which had only been founded as a monastic institution
in 1079, acquired the new priory of Aymeries in the Bishopric of
Cambrai91 and another one in 1094 in the town of Hesdin in the
Bishopric of Thérouanne.92 The political opportunities created by
these foundations, and the ensuing close ties between the abbot and
several territorial rulers of the region (Count Enguerran of Hesdin [c.
1067–c. 1102] in particular), also could not have been in the interest
of the nascent bishopric.93 Abbot Haimeric’s death, the subsequent
emergence of the reformist movement, and the news of the creation
of Cluniac institutions in the region—all of which occurred in the
space of just two years—may have spurred Lambert to take a proactive stance in laying down ground rules for his relationship with the
abbots of his bishopric. And not without reason—in 1104 Paschalis
would confirm the abbey’s extensive properties, while referring to
the canonical reverence (canonica reverentia) the abbots were
90

Sproemberg, Beiträge, pp. 105–13. Conflicts with Cluny would last into the 1130s.
Erik Van Mingroot,“De ‘stichtingsoorkonde’ van de O.-L.Vrouwepriorij te Aymeries
(1088). Diplomatisch onderzoek,” Bulletin de la Commission Royale d’Histoire—
Handelingen van de Koninklijke Comissie voor Geschiedenis, 155 (1989), 151–86.
92
Gerzaguet, L’abbaye d’Anchin; Jean-François Nieus, Un pouvoir comtal entre
Flandre et France. Saint-Pol, 1000–1300 (Brussels, 2005), pp. 65–67; and Steven
Vanderputten, “A Compromised Inheritance. Monastic Discourse and the Politics of
Property Exchange in Early Twelfth-Century Flanders,” Journal of Ecclesiastical
History, 61 (2010), 219–51.
93
The abbey of Marchiennes would seek, and receive, exemptions from episcopal
authority in 1123 (Falkenstein, La papauté, p. 232).
91

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ABBATIAL OBEDIENCE, LITURGICAL REFORM

obliged to show to their local bishop.94 For its part, Gelduin’s abbacy
would turn out to be a difficult one, marked by his own struggle with
the worldly demands of his office; concerns over the monks’ discipline; and the protection of the abbey’s temporal, but more important
(as may be inferred from Paschalis’s charter), internal discord.95 Aware
of the risk that the instability of such an important monastic institution posed for his own authority, Lambert may have intervened at this
point to at least bind the abbot to himself in his capacity of ordinarius. Considering what would happen at Marchiennes (the disastrous
abbacy of Fulcard) and Saint-Vaast (attempted secession of the priory
of Haspres) just a few years later, such precautions were not only necessary, but probably vital to the survival of the bishopric’s fragile institutions. Even when helping to consolidate the stability of his abbeys,
Lambert had reason to be suspicious of their strategies. Whereas his
privilege charter for the canons of Mont-Saint-Eloi had explicitly stipulated that they were free to elect their leader “with the council and
authority of the bishop,” Delmaire has remarked that all references to
the bishop’s right of approval were omitted in Paschalis’s bull for the
same monastery from 1104.96 The existence of a promissio made by a
later prior of the same institution suggests that the impact of this omission may have been minimal, at least in theory if not in practice.
However, it seems beyond question that the bishop and his monastic
subjects (aided perhaps by the papal institutions) were acting in the
midst of a fairly tense climate.
Although we can no longer verify if the ordo ad monachum
faciendum originated in this critical yet comparatively ill-documented period of Lambert’s episcopacy, the introduction of a new
liturgy for the benediction of abbots and the emergence of the promises as written documents with a charter-like appearance at least suggests that he stepped up measures to ensure that he could fall back
on the promise of obedience whenever his authority was challenged.
It is not inconceivable that, like the monk from Bec, Lambert and his
94
Jean-Pierre Gerzaguet, Les chartes de l’abbaye d’Anchin (1079–1201) (Turnhout,
2005), pp. 117–19n23.
95
Gerzaguet, L’abbaye d’Anchin, pp. 76–79.
96
Bernard Delmaire,“Un acte inédit d’Innocent II pour l’abbaye du Mont-Saint-Eloi
(1139),” in Licet preter solitum. Ludwig Falkenstein zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. Lotte
Kéry, Dietrich Lohrmann, and Harald Müller (Aachen, 1998), pp. 47–54, here p. 50.
Lambert’s charter is edited in Tock, Les chartes, n4, and Paschalis’s bull is edited in
Johannes Ramackers, Papsturkunden in Frankreich. 3: Artois (Göttingen, 1940), p.
44n8.

BY STEVEN VANDERPUTTEN

267

abbots did see similarities in this implication of the written promise
and the secular homage, something that the Gregorian reformers had
been trying to abolish from the relations between ecclesiastical and
lay rulers for a generation at least. Perhaps this is taking the argument
too far. Suspecting Lambert of an antimonastic attitude would certainly be erroneous—after all, his master, Ivo of Chartres, had been a
former monk of Bec. Yet, although the anonymous monk from that
same abbey strongly objected to the written promissio, Ivo himself
had suggested that, as far as he was concerned, a spoken promise was
not particularly less binding than a written one and essentially had
the same implications.97 Either way, to intervene in the ways a new
generation of abbots was linked to episcopal authority certainly was
a clear political statement, and perhaps the dating of the pieces in the
list attests to the urgency with which Lambert introduced this new
way of preserving the legal memory of the abbatial promise of obedience.At the same time, it may explain why his relationship with subsequent monastic leaders was troubled—whether competent or not,
these abbots may have experienced the change in ritual formula as a
way of coaxing them into engaging in a personal bond of allegiance
with their bishop. Given these circumstances as well as the uneasy
relationship in subsequent years between Lambert and several of his
abbots, it might be worth rereading some of the stories of monastic
decadence and poor monastic leadership and to frame them in a
broader struggle between episcopal authority and monastic freedom.
In the light of these reflections, it also might be useful to reconsider
the significance of Lambert’s own silence on the introduction of new,
and potentially controversial, liturgical formulae.
Conclusion
The list of abbatial promises in Lambert of Arras’s Register of
Lambert is more than a mere instrument for guaranteeing the
memory and legal pertinence of a ritual speech act. As the comparison of these texts with contemporary liturgical and other evidence
shows, they are among the few fragments of concrete evidence that
indicate that Lambert was concerned about the impact of monastic
autonomy, in particular—but more hypothetically—Cluniac reform in
the early years of the twelfth century. An analysis of the dating of the
promissiones suggests that, like several of his contemporaries,
Lambert autonomously, and at considerable risk, decided to introduce
97

Letter quoted in Constable,“Abbatial Profession,” p. 111.

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ABBATIAL OBEDIENCE, LITURGICAL REFORM

a new liturgy for the benediction of abbots. The seemingly fragmentary and at times contradictory evidence, plus the difficult identification of the origin of the formulae, can therefore be attributed not so
much to a loss of evidence, but to the fact that its introduction met
with considerable resistance and was considered one of several
options for addressing the tense relationship between bishops and
monasteries during the Gregorian Age.
Appendix A. Ordo Used for Abbatial Benedictions in the
Diocese of Arras (c. 1100)
Source: Arras, Médiathèque (formerly Bibliothèque Municipale), 1031 (olim
745), fols. 21r–23v.
Ordo ad monachum abbatem faciendum
Indicto ieiunio primum factisque orationibus post(ea) eligatur secundum timorem Dei qui ordinandus est in abbatem precipue a fratribus congregationis
concordi consilio et bona voluntate secundum regulam beati Benedicti.
Deinde episcopo in cuius dyocesi abbas est ordinandus ipsa electio per scriptum et testes presentetur, quatinus per episcopum si digne facta fuerit confirmetur et statuto tempore electus ab illo consecretur. Si autem electio in
presentia episcopi facta et confirmata fuerit, dicatur: Antiphona «Confirma
hoc Deus». Psalma «Exurgat Deus».
Et sic pergant ad ecclesiam cantando; episcope vero ducat electum. Cum
autem venerint in chorum prosternat se electus. Finito psalmo episcopus
dicat capitulum: «Salvum fac servum tuum. Mitte ei auxilium de sancto. Esto
illi Domine turris fortitudinis. Nichil proficiat inimicus in eo. Memor esto congregationis tue˛. Omnipotente sempiterne Deus qui facis mirabilia magna
solus pretende super famulum tuum ill. et super cunctam congregationem illi
committendam spiritum gratie salutaris; et ut in veritate tibi complaceant perpetuum eis rorem tue˛ benedictionis in funde per dominum noster Ihesu
Christi filium tuum qui tecum vivit et regnat in unitate eiusdem spirite sancti
Deus per omnia.»
Antequam vero evangelia legatur allocutio episcopi ad electum abbatem:
«Ecclesie˛ nostre˛, fratres karissimi, de titulo sancti ill. pater electus suum adest
ordinem ad suscipiendum. Unde apostolica prius eum censemus auctoritate
examinandum suum propositum et sancti Benedicti regulam si velit ipse
observare sibique subiectos ut id ipsum faciant diligenter instruere.»
Priusquam abbas ordinetur ab98 episcopo interrogetur ita: «Karissime frater,
quia gratia Dei et electio fratrum priorisque vite˛ tue˛ conversatio ad hoc
98

Corrected from ad.

BY STEVEN VANDERPUTTEN

269

provocavit, officium te volumus per te ipsum scire utrum velis cum illis bene
esse et mores tuos ab omni malo temperare et ad omne bonum quantum
Deus dederit convitare.» Respondet: «Volo». Interrogatur: «Vis beati Benedicti
regulam custodire, per te ipsum operari et alios docere?» Respondet: «Volo».
Interrogatur: «Vis ea que˛ intellexeris ex divinis per te servare et alios
instruere?» Respondet: «Volo». Interrogatur: «Vis castitatem et sobrietatem servare?» Respondet: «Volo». Interrogatur: «Ea que˛ per incuriam vel per negligentiam a loco sunt inminuta intus vel exterius vis restaurare secundum scire et
posse?» Respondet: «Volo». Interrogatur: «Vis sancte˛ Atrebatensi e˛cclesie˛ et
michi et successoribus meis esse subiectus secundum regulam beati
Benedicti?» Respondet: «Volo.»
Tunc in scedula scriptam legat professionem hoc modo: «Ego ill. nunc ordinandus abbas ad titulum ill. subiectionem et reverentiam a sanctis patribus
constitutam, et oboedientiam secundum preceptum et regulam sancti
Benedicti, huic sancte˛ Attrebatensi e˛cclesie˛, tibique pater ill. episcope, tuisque
successoribus perpetuo me exhibiturum promitto, et propria manu confirmo.»
Hic fiat letania: «Kyrie eleison. Christe eleyson. Christe audi nos. Salvator
mundi adiuva nos. Sancta Maria mater Domini ora pro nobis. Sancta Dei
Genetrix ora. Sancta Virgo Virginum ora. Sancta Cherubim orate. Sancta
Seraphim orate. Sancte Michahel ora. Sancte Gabrihel ora. Sancte Raphahel
ora. Omnes sancti angeli et archangeli orate pro nobis. Omnes sancti beatorum spirituum ordines orate pro nobis. Omnes sancti patriarche et prophete
orate. Omnes sancti innocentes martyres orate. Sancte Iohannes baptista
Domini ora pro nobis. Sancte Petre ora. Sancte Paule ora. Sancte Andrea ora.
Sancte Iacobe ora. Sancte Iohannes evangelista ora pro nobis. Omnes sancti
apostoli et euuangeliste orate pro nobis. Sancte Cleopha ora. Sancte Prisce
ora. Sancte Saturnine ora. . . .
Spirite benedic et protege, ut ab omni hoste securi in tua iugiter laude letemus. Amen.»
Post benedictionem autem abbatis accipiat eum presul per manum dexteram
unus vero ex ceteris episcopis vel abbatibus per sinistram, et sic ducatur ad
locum suum, et per campanas e˛cclesie˛ investiat eum episcope dicens:
«Accipe potestatem regendi hanc e˛cclesiam et congregationem eius et omnia
que˛ ad eam interius et exterius99 pertinent, in nomine Domini nostri Ihesu
Christi salvatoris et redemptoris nostri qui cum Deo patre et spiritu sancto
vivit et regnat Deus Amen.»
Post he˛c reverenter statuatur in sede ubi antecessor eius solitus erat stare
nichilominus dicente sibi episcopo: «Sta in iustitia et sanctitate et retine
locum tibi a Deo delegatum, potens est autem Deus ut augeat tibi gratiam.»
99

Preceded by one erased letter.

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ABBATIAL OBEDIENCE, LITURGICAL REFORM

Et sic incipiat episcope ymnum «Te Deum laudamus, te Dominum confitemur.» Tunc dent ei cuncti fratres osculum pacis cum omni paterna reverentia
flectentes genua.Tunc dicantur hec preces: «Salvum fac servum tuum. Nichil
proficiat inimicus in eo. Domine exaudi orationem meam. Esto illi domine
turris fortitudinis. Memor esto congregationis tue˛. Dominus vobiscum.
Exaudi Domine preces nostras et super hunc famulum tuum ill.; spiritum tue˛
benedictionis emitte, ut ce˛lesti munere ditatus et tue˛ gratiam possit maiestatis acquirere, et bene vivendi aliis exemplum prebere.Amen.»

Appendix B. Abbatial Promises Made to Lambert,
Bishop of Arras (c. 1103–11)
Source: Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Ms. Lat. 12827, fols. 123r–v;
Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Ms. Picardie 60, fol. 11r; and Cambrai,
Bibliothèque Municipale, 841, pp. 85–86.
Formulae quibus usi sunt abbates diocoesis100 Atrebatensis promittentes obedientiam Lamberto episcopo Atrebatensi.
Ego Alvisus nunc ordinandus abbas ad titulum sancti Salvatoris Aquicinensis,
subiectionem101 et reverentiam a sanctis patribus constitutam, et obedientiam
secundum pre˛ceptum102 et regulam sancti Benedicti, huic sedi sancte˛
Atrebatensis ecclesie˛, tibique pater Lamberte episcope, tuisque successoribus, perpetuo me exhibiturum promitto, et propria manu confirmo.
(signum crucis)103
Ego Gelduinus ordinatus abbas ad titulum Sancti Salvatoris Aquicinensis,
subiectionem et reverentiam. etc.104
Ego Henricus nunc ordinandus abbas ad titulum apostolorum Petri et Pauli, et
sancti Vedasti Atrebatensis, subiectionem. etc.105
Ego Fulcardus nunc ordinandus abbas ad titulum apostolorum Petri et Pauli,
et sanctae Rictrudis Marcianensis subiectionem et reverentiam. etc.106
Ego Ricoardus, nunc ordinandus pre˛positus sive abbas canonicorum ad titulum apostolorum Petri et Pauli, et sancti Vindiciani de Monte Sancti Eligii
subiectionem et reverentiam a sanctis patribus constitutam.
100

Diocesis BnF Picardie 60.
For this and all further appearances of the word, Cambrai 841 uses subjectionem.
102
Cambrai BM 841 and BnF Picardie 60 both give ae-forms, whereas BnF Lat 12827
retains the original form e˛.
103
Not in BnF Lat 12827.
104
Etc. only in BnF Picardie 60.
105
Etc. only in BnF Picardie 60.
106
Etc. only in BnF Picardie 60.
101

CRISTERO DIASPORA:
MEXICAN IMMIGRANTS,
THE U.S. CATHOLIC CHURCH,
AND MEXICO’S CRISTERO WAR, 1926–29
BY

JULIA G.YOUNG*

The author examines the connections between Mexico’s Cristero
War, a bloody church-state conflict that raged across west-central
Mexico from 1926 to 1929, and the great wave of Mexican emigration to the United States that occurred during the same period.
Although historians have generally treated the Cristero War and
Mexican emigration as two distinct and unrelated subjects, a rich
array of archival evidence from both sides of the border demonstrates that thousands of Mexican immigrants during the late
1920s supported the Cristero cause from the United States. By elucidating the geographical and political interconnections between
the Cristero War and Mexican emigration and exploring the instrumental role played by the U.S. Catholic Church in placing religious
exiles from Mexico within immigrant communities, the author
demonstrates the development of a diaspora of Mexican Cristero
supporters across cities and regions in the United States.
Keywords: Cristero; Cristero War; Mexican migration; National
Catholic Welfare Conference; religious diaspora
In summer 1926, Mexico’s Catholic loyalists—known as cristeros—
took up arms to defend the Church against the government’s anticlerical reforms, setting off a devastatingly violent war that ravaged
west-central Mexico until a cease-fire was called in July 1929.
Simultaneously, Mexican emigration to the United States intensified
*Julia G. Young is assistant professor in the Department of History at The Catholic
University of America, email: Youngjg@cua.edu.The author is grateful to the American
Catholic Research Center at The Catholic University of America; the Center for the
Study of Race, Politics, and Culture at the University of Chicago; and the Fulbright-Hays
Doctoral Dissertation Research Abroad Program for funding research relevant to this
study.

271

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CRISTERO DIASPORA

during the late 1920s, as new waves of emigrants, exiles, and refugees
left the war-torn area. As the war continued, entire towns in central
Mexico emptied, and cities and towns across the United States filled
with a steady stream of new arrivals from the Cristero region. Soon,
tens of thousands of these immigrants had begun to publicly express
support for the Cristero cause.
After late 1927, it was as though the religious conflict itself had
crossed the border. In San Antonio, 500 Mexicans marched in front of
the consulate to express their disapproval of the government’s anticlerical restrictions. In El Paso, some 35,000 people, many of Mexican
origin, followed Mexican and American priests in a vast religious procession through the city. In Los Angeles, 10,000 people—most from the
city’s Mexican community—waved Mexican flags and colorful banners
as their bishop denounced the government of Mexico.In Chicago,some
500 parishioners of the Mexican Church of Our Lady of Guadalupe listened raptly as a visiting bishop railed against the anticlerical leaders of
their homeland, then marched, singing and waving religious placards, to
their newly built, larger parish church (see figure 1).
Such events were part of a larger phenomenon: during the late
1920s, Mexican immigrant communities across the United States confronted, interacted with, and enacted the religious conflict in their
homeland in a variety of ways. A diasporic network of Cristero supporters—including labor migrants; exiled priests, nuns, and prelates;
middle-class lay activists; and militants—collaborated (and sometimes
competed) with each other as they participated in public and private
activities that included religious ceremonies and spectacles, political
demonstrations and marches, the formation of associations and organizations, strategic collaboration with religious and political leaders,
arms smuggling, espionage, and even military revolts.
Certainly, not all Mexican emigrants during the Cristero War years
identified with the Catholic side of the conflict. Indeed, an equal—or
even greater—number of Mexicans in the United States expressed support for the anticlerical reforms of the Mexican government, whereas
many thousands more remained apolitical.1 Nevertheless, even if the
1
For examples of Mexicans expressing support for the government’s anticlerical
reforms as well as Mexicans who took a neutral attitude toward homeland politics, see
the interviews in Manuel Gamio’s The Mexican Immigrant: His Life Story (Chicago,
1930; repr. New York, 1969).

BY JULIA G. YOUNG

273

FIGURE 1. Procession of Blessed Sacrament to new church, Our Lady of
Guadalupe, Chicago, September 23, 1928. Claretian Missionaries Archives,
Record Group 600, Subgroup 605.14, Accession No. 715. Reproduced by permission of Claretian Missionaries Archives USA.

population of Cristero supporters was a tiny minority within the larger
Mexican immigrant community, it was a vocal and politically active
one—and one whose story, which has largely escaped scholarly examination, can add greatly to the scholarship on three fascinating topics:
Mexico’s Cristero War, Mexican immigration during the 1920s, and the
role of the U.S. Catholic Church during the war years.
The goals of this article, therefore, are both to establish the first
definitive portrait of the Cristero diaspora, and to understand and
explain the historical significance of this group. To do so, a general
description is presented of the great wave of immigrants who arrived
in the United States as a direct or indirect result of the Cristero War.
Second, the arrival of Mexican religious refugees, who helped to generate widespread community support for the Cristero cause, is discussed. Third, the integral role played by the U.S. Catholic Church is
considered, examining its assistance to these refugees and its placements of these individuals within preexisting Mexican communities.
Fourth, the activities of Cristero supporters are viewed through the
lens of four U.S. cities: San Antonio, El Paso, Los Angeles, and Chicago.
Finally, the contributions and significance of this story are described.

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CRISTERO DIASPORA

1. The Cristero War as a Cause of Mexican Emigration
Although migration from Mexico to the United States had been
occurring since the mid-nineteenth century, several factors had combined to create three significant changes in patterns of Mexican emigration to the United States during the 1920s. First, more migrants began
leaving Mexico than ever before, thanks to increasing demographic and
economic pressures, the political upheavals wrought by the Mexican
Revolution (1910–20), and the continued construction of Mexico’s
national railway infrastructure (see figure 2). Second, by the mid-1920s a
much greater proportion of Mexico’s migrants to the United States were
coming from Mexico’s west-central region, which included the states of
Michoacán, Guanajuato, and Jalisco. Third, Mexican migrants began to
settle in more diverse destinations in the United States. Although they
continued to migrate to traditional destinations such as Texas, the U.S.
Southwest, and southern California, they also began settling in regions
that previously had little or no Mexican population: most notably, to
Midwestern states such as Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin.
Of all the causes for the marked rise in emigration out of Mexico’s
west-central states during the 1920s, it was the devastation wrought
by the Cristero War that reinforced and solidified these trends during
the latter part of the decade.The conflict, which would claim the lives
of at least 90,000 people, began after President Plutarco Elías Calles
enforced the anticlerical provisions of the Mexican Constitution, and
the country’s Catholic hierarchy responded by suspending all religious services on July 31, 1926. In turn, many Catholics in the countryside—particularly in the west-central states of Michoacán,
Guanajuato, and Jalisco—began to take up arms against federal troops
and their paramilitary forces.Their scattered popular uprising became
“massive and unanimous” after January 1927, when the Liga Nacional
Defensora de Libertad Religiosa (LNDLR), the country’s leading lay
Catholic organization, gave an order for a general uprising. With a
rousing battle cry of “¡Viva Cristo Rey!” (“Long live Christ the King!”),
these militant Catholics soon became known as cristeros. The popular insurrection was formally ended on June 21, 1929, when Mexico’s
Catholic hierarchy reached a settlement with the government,
although sporadic revolts would continue until 1935.2
2
For a comprehensive narrative of the chronology of the Cristero War, see Jean
Meyer, The Cristero Rebellion: The Mexican People between Church and State,
1926–1929 (New York, 1976).

BY JULIA G. YOUNG

275

FIGURE 2. Number of legal Mexican emigrants to the United States, by year.
Source: Jorge Durand and Douglas S. Massey, The Mexican Migration Project,
Princeton University. http://mmp.opr.princeton.edu/home-en.aspx

Although any war can create refugees, there were some aspects of
the Cristero War that particularly intensified the preexisting flow of
emigration from Mexico’s west-central region. One of these came in
the form of the federal government’s concentration campaigns.
During these campaigns, which occurred across the west-central
region in early 1928, federal troops would evacuate the residents of a
designated area, destroy their houses, pillage any valuables, and bomb
the town via fighter planes; any civilians who refused to leave were
massacred. Luis González y González describes the town of San José
de Gracia, Michoacán, after one such campaign as “a place of roofless
walls and rubble, ashes, and charcoal, with green grass sprouting in
the street and on garden walls, and soot everywhere.The only sound
was the howling of starving cats.” Although some villages recovered
their populations after the campaigns, many smaller hamlets were
“simply wiped off the map,” their inhabitants gone forever.3
The Cristero war also devastated the economy of the formerly productive west-central region. Unemployment was reputedly high in the
3
Luis González y González, San José de Gracia: Mexican Village in Transition
(Austin,TX, 1972), p. 158; Jean Meyer, La Cristiada, 4 vols. (Mexico City, 1976), 1:176;
Meyer, The Cristero Rebellion, p. 180.

276

CRISTERO DIASPORA

agricultural sector, as well as in manufacturing and mechanical industries.4 The resulting poverty and widespread misery continuously generated new waves of emigration. One eyewitness observer reported
that “everyone who can is preparing to leave for the United States,”
since “there are no buyers in the stores . . . so many employees have
been dropped . . . there are families who do not have the necessaries
[sic] of life and who pass entire days without eating. . . .”5 Consular
agents in charge of issuing visas to would-be emigrants likewise noted
that emigration to the United States from the west-central region was
“heavier than usual” as a result of the conflict.6 Indeed, numerous
demographic studies confirm that by the late 1920s, emigrants from
the west-central region had become predominant in Mexican communities across the United States.7
4
College Park, MD, National Archives [hereafter NACP], Report from the
Aguascalientes Consulate, September 30, 1927, State Department Foreign Service Post
Files, Record Group 84 [hereafter Foreign Service RG 84], Consular Correspondence
from Aguascalientes, Subject Group 811.11; Report from the Guadalajara Consulate,
February 1, 1927, NACP, Foreign Service RG 84, Consular Correspondence from
Guadalajara, Subject Group 800.
5
Washington, DC, American Catholic History Research Center, The Catholic
University of America, National Catholic Welfare Conference Collection [hereafter
ACUA-NCWC], Anonymous letter, “From One Woman to Her Friend,” November 18,
1927, Mexican Files, Box 146, Folder 19.
6
Confidential Report from Consul John W. Dye, Ciudad Juarez Consulate, October 4,
1926, NACP, Foreign Service RG 84, Consular Correspondence from Ciudad Juarez,
Subject Group 800.
7
In Corpus Christi in 1929, close to 12 percent of 1078 Mexicans were from
Guanajuato alone. Francisco A. Rosales, “Mexican Immigration to the Urban Midwest
during the 1920s” (PhD diss., Indiana University, 1978), p. 104; see also Paul S.Taylor, An
American-Mexican Frontier: Nueces County, Texas (Chapel Hill, NC, 1934). In San
Antonio between 1920 and 1930, many of the city’s 21,000 new arrivals were from the
west-central region. Richard A. García, Rise of the Mexican American Middle Class: San
Antonio, 1929–1941, [Centennial Series of the Association of Former Students,Vol. 36],
(College Station, TX, 1991), p. 28. In California, Camille Guerin-González found that
Mexicans from Guanajuato, Michoacán, and Jalisco made up the largest group of immigrants in California’s San Bernardino and Riverside counties, composing close to 50
percent of the 3038 repatriates who left the region in 1930 and 1931; see Camille
Guerin-Gonzales, Mexican Workers and American Dreams: Immigration,
Repatriation, and California Farm Labor, 1900–1939 (New Brunswick, NJ, 1994), p.
143. Finally, George Sánchez’s study of Mexican immigrants in Los Angeles during the
1920s determined that almost 37 percent of adult male Mexican migrants recorded in
the U.S. Naturalization Service records came from the west-central states, with 21 percent from Jalisco, Michoacán, or Guanajuato; Gamio’s tally of money orders from the
same area (cited by Sánchez) found that about 30 percent came from these three states,
with the majority arriving from Jalisco. George Sánchez, Becoming Mexican American:
Ethnicity, Culture and Identity in Chicano Los Angeles, 1900–1945 (New York, 1993),

BY JULIA G. YOUNG

277

Since migration from this area had predated the Cristero War by at
least two decades, the newest waves of emigrants during the Cristero
War years often joined communities of their relatives or compatriots
who had arrived in the United States in the early 1920s or before.
Many scholars of Mexican emigration have taken note of this phenomenon. José Orozco remarks that they were already “an established
presence in Mexican immigrant communities in the United States . . .
and it is to these areas that many Alteños fled during the Cristiada.”8
Likewise, Francisco Rosales reports that in March 1927, many of those
refugees arrived in Chicago “from such towns as Chavinda,
Michoacán, or San Francisco del Rincon, Guanajuato, where Cristero
activity was prominent, and joined relatives already there.”9 Zaragosa
Vargas, too, notes that hundreds of new emigrants from the west-central region arrived in Detroit in 1926 as a direct result of the war,
increasing the size of the city’s nascent Mexican community.10
The historical scholarship provides an indisputable geographical
link between these growing immigrant communities and the region
where the Cristero War was fought. Yet the question still remains:
How important is this regional connection in determining whether
Mexican immigrants supported the Cristero cause? It certainly
stands to reason that the events of the Cristero War would have resonated strongly among Mexican emigrants to the United States
during the late 1920s, since, for many of them, the war was taking
place in their hometown or home state. It also seems likely that a

p. 46. Mexican emigrants from the west-central region also were predominant in the
Midwest and Great Lakes regions. Indeed, Paul S. Taylor’s survey of 3132 Mexicans in
the Chicago and Calumet region showed that 21 percent came from Jalisco, 18.5 percent from Michoacán, 17 percent from Guanajuato, 8 percent from Zacatecas, 6 percent
from Mexico City, and less than 5 percent from other Mexican states. In other words,
about 74 percent came from the west-central region; see Paul S.Taylor, Mexican Labor
in the United States: Chicago and the Calumet Region, [University of California
Publications in Economics, Vol. 7, No. 2], (Berkeley, 1932), p. 49. Rosales found that of
1016 immigrants to the Chicago area from 1920 to 1925, 214 came from Guanajuato,
201 came from Jalisco, 260 came from Michoacán, and 68 came from Mexico City. See
Rosales,“Mexican Immigration to the Urban Midwest,” p. 107. In Detroit, too, the majority of Mexican immigrants came from Jalisco, Michoacán, and Guanajuato; see Zaragosa
Vargas, “Life and Community in the ‘Wonderful City of the Magic Motor’: Mexican
Immigrants in 1920s Detroit,” Michigan Historical Review, 15 (1989), 45–68, here 48.
8
José Orozco, “‘¡Esos Altos de Jalisco!’ Emigration and the Idea of Alteño
Exceptionalism, 1926–1952” (PhD diss.. Harvard University, 1997), p. 145.
9
Rosales,“Mexican Immigration to the Urban Midwest,” p. 211.
10
Zaragosa Vargas,“Life and Community,” p. 60.

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CRISTERO DIASPORA

significant number of these individuals would have been personally
affected by the war—whether they were refugees themselves, or
whether they had friends and relatives whose lives had been disrupted in some way.
The regional connection between the Cristero War and Mexican
emigration, however, can only tell us so much about whether any particular immigrant supported the Cristero cause from the United
States. Certainly, many emigrants from the west-central region were
apolitical or were not Cristero supporters; and, as shall be discussed
later, some other Cristero supporters in the United States came from
regions in Mexico other than the west-central area. Thus, factors
beyond the regional connection must be explored to discover additional determinants of Cristero activism among Mexican immigrants
in the United States.To do so, a discussion is necessary of the arrival
and settlement of Mexican religious exiles within immigrant communities in the United States.
2. Religious Refugees in the United States
Between 1926 and 1929, up to 2500 Mexican religious refugees—
priests, nuns, monks, seminarians, bishops, and archbishops—either
fled or were deported to the United States, as the Mexican government enforced anticlerical laws that limited the numbers of priests,
dissolved religious orders, and subjected the clergy to direct persecution. In the first few months of the Cristero War, the Mexican government forced only foreign-born nuns and priests to leave; native-born
Mexican clergy, by contrast, initially left the country voluntarily,
choosing self-exile over obeying the restrictions of the Mexican government.11 (Many nuns, for example, often chose to leave after their
11

Calles—who served as president of Mexico from 1924 to 1928 and then ruled
from behind the scenes as “Jefe Máximo” during the period 1928–35, also known as the
“Maximato”—announced the enforcement of the 1917 laws on July 31, 1926.“Truce for
Return of Bishops Denied by Archbishop Ruiz,” National Catholic Welfare Conference
press release, June 3, 1929, ACUA-NCWC, Mexican Files, Folder 7, Box 148. In San Luis
Potosí in July of that year, the consul reported that he had received (and would later
grant) 360 visa requests from “alien priests and nuns,” most of whom were in imminent
danger of arrest and expulsion. Henry Krause,American vice consul of San Luis Potosí,
to Alexander W. Weddel, American consul general of Mexico City, July 21, 1926, NACP,
Foreign Service RG 84, Consular Correspondence from San Luis Potosí, Subject Group
811.11. See also “Churches Looted in Mexican Drive, Refugees Charge,” Washington
Post, March 5, 1926, 3.

BY JULIA G. YOUNG

279

convents were confiscated and prohibitions were levied against communal living or wearing religious habits.)12
By early 1927, however, exile was no longer a matter of personal
choice. The Mexican government increasingly arrested and forcibly
deported priests and members of the hierarchy; it had issued a decree
in January of that year stating that any priests who were apprehended
“with arms in hand, or who ostensibly dedicate themselves to conspire against the government” would be immediately expelled from
the country. Since Catholic priests often were accused of sedition
regardless of their actual activities, and since even those who went
into hiding often were found and arrested, leaving the country voluntarily often was their only hope of avoiding imprisonment or even
death.13
By the middle of 1927, a stream of religious refugees began arriving in the United States, sometimes precipitously and under dramatic
circumstances (see figure 3). For example, several orders of nuns were
said to have been escorted across the desert, in a sort of religious
Underground Railroad, by the famous (and now canonized) Father
Miguel Pro.14 In another instance, one Father Navarro arrived in El
Paso after he had
been bound and loaded in a baggage car in the interior of Mexico. In Juarez,
he was put in a taxi and released at the International Bridge. His . . . companion was blindfolded [and] released at Wyoming and Oregon Streets
where he was found in the early morning.15

Since many religious exiles arrived in the United States without
funds, their primary concern was to earn enough income to ensure
12
See Barbara Miller, “The Role of Women in the Mexican Cristero Rebellion: Las
Señoras y Las Religiosas,” The Americas, 40 (1984), 303–23, here 314.
13
Mexico City, Archivo General de la Nación, “Los sacerdotes rebeldes van a ser
deportados: Una circular de la Secretaría de Guerra a los Jefes de las Operaciones
Militares,” Excelsior, February 14, 1927, Collección Investigaciones Políticas y Sociales
[hereafter AGN-IPS], Vol. 209, Expediente 6. Consular official Gray [first name not provided in document] in Guadalajara to the secretary of state [Frank Billings Kellogg] in
Washington, February 3, 1927, NACP, State Department Central File, Record Group 59
[hereafter State RG 59], Decimal File 812.404/754.
14
Marjorie Sánchez-Walker,“Migration Quicksand: Immigration Law and Immigration
Advocates at the El Paso-Ciudad Juarez Border Crossing, 1933–1941” (PhD diss.,
Washington State University, 1999), p. 278.
15
El Paso,TX, Archives of the Catholic Diocese of El Paso, Bishop Anthony Schuler,
S.J. [booklet].

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CRISTERO DIASPORA

FIGURE 3. Mexican religious exiles arriving in the United States. Archivo
Histórico de la Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, Fondo Miguel
Palomar y Vizcarra, Sección Gráfica, Serie IV, Expediente 11, Document 160.
Reproduced by permission of the Archivo Histórico de la UNAM.

their personal survival as well as, in the case of monks and nuns, the
survival of their religious orders. They did so in a variety of ways.
Some of them started small businesses. The Sisters of Perpetual
Adoration opened a bakery in El Paso, where they made tamales on
Tuesdays and enchiladas on Wednesdays. In the same city, the Maria
Reparatrice Sisters conducted sewing, painting, and music classes.16
A more dependable source of income and stability—particularly
for refugee nuns—was teaching, and this became the occupation of
up to 50 percent of the refugee priests (and possibly a greater percentage of the nuns) in the United States.The unprecedented growth
16
El Paso, TX, University of Texas at El Paso Library, C. L. Sonnichsen Special
Collections Department, Cleofás Calleros to Justin McGrath, director of the NCWC
News Service, about activities of refugee priests and nuns in El Paso, May 2, 1928,
Cleofás Calleros Papers [hereafter UTEP-Calleros], MS 231, Series II.

BY JULIA G. YOUNG

281

of Mexican communities in Texas, California, and the Southwest,
occurring in conjunction with the arrival of the refugees and the closing of Catholic schools in Mexico, generated a concurrent demand for
Mexican Catholic schools in the United States, and religious refugees
opened dozens of new schools within Mexican communities during
the Cristero War years.17
The religious refugees also worked within Mexican communities
to establish Mexican national parishes, an effort that was particularly
noticeable in California and the Midwest. In the then-Diocese of Los
Angeles during the 1920s, dozens of new parishes opened—many of
them named for Our Lady of Guadalupe or for the icon of the Cristero
movement, Christ the King. In the Midwest, new Mexican parishes
opened in Detroit, South Chicago, and Milwaukee.18
By mid-1927, it was the rare Mexican immigrant community that
did not host at least a few religious exiles.With their efforts to found
schools, parishes, or small businesses, they would serve as visible and
public reminders of the religious conflict that was raging in the homeland. Before the ways that the religious exiles interacted with Mexican
immigrant communities can be analyzed, however, the vital role
played by the U.S. Catholic Church must be examined, particularly
that of the National Catholic Welfare Conference (NCWC) and several
key American bishops and archbishops. Indeed, these U.S. Catholics
extended assistance to these refugees at every turn, including management of the logistics of border crossing and legal status in the
United States, financial assistance that allowed their resettlement
within existing Mexican communities and establishment of new
Mexican parishes, press attention for the plight of the religious exiles,
and promotion of the Cristero cause to American audiences.

17

“Los Colegios Católicos de Sonora se van al Extranjero,” La Prensa, July 30, 1926,
9; “Las monjas de León pasan al Estado de Arizona,” La Prensa, August 10, 1926, 4;
“200,000 Mexico Students Go to Schools in U.S.: War on Catholics Results in Big
Exodus,” Chicago Tribune, August 19, 1928, 14. The Congregation of the Perpetual
Adorers to Mr. & Mrs. Cleofás Calleros, December 14, 1928, UTEP-Calleros, MS231, Series
II; Dolan and Hinojosa, Mexican Americans and the Catholic Church, p. 58.
18
Mike Davis and Robert Morrow, City of Quartz: Excavating the Future in Los
Angeles (New York, 1990), pp. 330–31; David Badillo, “The Catholic Church and the
Making of Mexican-American Parish Communities in the Midwest,” in Dolan and
Hinojosa, Mexican Americans and the Catholic Church, pp 237–308, here p. 266.

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3. The Role of the U.S. Catholic Church
Religious exiles (priests, nuns, monks, and other clergy) from
Mexico represented both a challenge and an opportunity for the U.S.
Catholic Church, whose leadership also was trying to determine their
response to the influx of Mexican emigrants during the 1920s. Since
the 1910s, prominent leaders within the U.S. Church had begun to
identify and confront social welfare issues among Mexican immigrants.19 By 1924, Catholic leaders had become increasingly concerned with the number of Mexicans in the United States, acknowledging that “henceforth, our Catholic immigrants will be mostly
Mexicans.”20
Some Catholic bishops, as well as some members of the leadership
of the National Catholic Welfare Conference (NCWC), the Church’s
episcopal organization, saw these Mexican Catholics as problematic,
due to their poverty and low levels of education. Although they
acknowledged that Mexicans were “deeply Catholic in heart,” they
lamented that they were “not well instructed in their religion” and
that they “feel themselves an alien and despised race.” Furthermore,
they feared Protestant efforts to proselytize and convert Mexican
Catholics. In the context of the Cristero War, they believed that the
stakes were even higher: the future of the Church in Mexico, they
thought, depended on reaching the Mexican Catholic immigrant in
the United States. One of the most efficient ways to direct ministry
toward Mexican Catholics, some argued, was through priests and
nuns of their own nationality.21 Therefore, the U.S. Catholic Church
would attempt to help relocate these priests and nuns within growing Mexican communities.
19
See James T. Moore, Acts of Faith: The Catholic Church in Texas, 1900–1950
(College Station, TX, 2002), pp. 81–82; “Mexican Uprisings, Say War Officials, Being
Suppressed,” Washington Post, January 19, 1927, 1; Joséph J.Thompson, The Diamond
Jubilee of the Archdiocese of Chicago (Des Plaines, IL, 1920). Indeed, the U.S. Catholic
Church also had taken an active role in resettling clergy from Mexico during the
Mexican Revolution (1910–20). See Anne M. Martínez, “Bordering on the Sacred:
Religion, Nation, and U.S.-Mexican Relations, 1910–1929” (PhD diss., University of
Minnesota, 2003).
20
“Notes and Data on the Mexican Problem, Prepared for the Meeting of the Bishops
at the Catholic University of America,” September 24–25, 1924, ACUA-NCWC, Mexican
Files, Box 144, Folder 43.
21
Linna E. Bresette, Mexicans in the United States: A Report of a Brief Survey
(Washington, DC, 1928),ACUA-NCWC, Mexican Files, Box 148, Folder 36; see also “Notes
and Data on the Mexican Problem.”

BY JULIA G. YOUNG

283

The organization that would do the most to channel the arriving
priests and nuns toward Mexican communities in the United States
was the Immigration Bureau of the NCWC, which also happened to
be located in the border city where most of the religious refugees initially arrived—El Paso, Texas. Founded in 1920 to assist the growing
number of Catholic immigrants to the United States, the mission of
the Immigration Bureau was “to be a clearing house for all matters
relating to Catholic immigrants of all nationalities.” Recognizing both
the significance of migration from Mexico and the need to minister to
Mexican Catholics in the borderlands, the NCWC opened the El Paso
office of the Immigration Bureau in November 1922, and by the onset
of the Cristero War, the Immigration Bureau in El Paso had become the
primary American organization responsible for managing the arrival
of Mexico’s religious refugees.22
From 1926 until 1968, the El Paso office was headed by Cleofás
Calleros, a Mexican native whose family had come to El Paso from
Chihuahua in 1896 (see figure 4). A devout Catholic, Calleros became
the primary liaison for many of the religious refugees seeking legal residence in the United States. His office completed visa applications and
sent them to the NCWC’s Washington representatives, who handled
direct contact with the U.S. Department of State.Thanks to his efforts,
many of Mexico’s religious refugees were granted the visas for which
they applied,and Calleros’s work was so effective that even U.S.consular
officials in Mexico were known to refer priests and nuns to his office.23
Beyond helping the religious refugees to obtain legal residency, the
Immigration Bureau—as well as other Catholic organizations such as
the Extension Society and the Knights of Columbus—worked with
members of the U.S. Catholic hierarchy to place the religious refugees
within specific communities.24 In the Diocese of El Paso, Bishop
22

“Immigration: A Statement Regarding Immigration to the United States . . .
Prepared for the Official Catholic Yearbook,” 1928, UTEP-Calleros, MS 231, Series II.
23
“Algunas Reglas de importancia para los inmigrantes que pasan por la frontera mexicana a los estados unidos,” UTEP-Calleros, MS 231, Series II, Box 7;
Immigration case files, UTEP-Calleros, MS 231, Series II, Box 11; Father Theo. Laboure in
San Antonio to Rev. Jesus Prieto in Laredo, June 13, 1929, NACP, Foreign Service RG 84,
Consular Correspondence from Nuevo Laredo, Subject Group 811.11.
24
The Knights of Columbus embarked on a fund-raising campaign for the refugees,
and the Extension Society would provide up to $25,000. Malachy McCarthy, “Which
Christ Came to Chicago: Catholic and Protestant Programs to Evangelize, Socialize, and
Americanize the Mexican Emigrant, 1900–1940” (PhD diss., Loyola University of
Chicago, 2002), pp. 198, 202.

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CRISTERO DIASPORA

FIGURE 4. Cleofás Calleros, Mexican border representative of the National
Catholic Welfare Conference’s Bureau of Immigration in El Paso. Special
Collections Department, University of Texas at El Paso Library. Reproduced by
permission of the Special Collections Department, University of Texas at El
Paso Library.

Anthony Schuler, S.J., hosted at least nine religious congregations of
nuns, 150 priests, hundreds of seminarians, and members of the
church hierarchy.25 In the Archdiocese of San Antonio, Archbishop
Arthur Drossaerts made resources available to Mexican immigrants,
including forty-two priests and 195 nuns.26 In Los Angeles, Bishop
John Cantwell granted refuge to more than 100 Mexican priests, several exiled bishops, and an archbishop.27 Priests and nuns from
Mexico also arrived in the Midwest after 1926; Chicago’s Our Lady of
Guadalupe parish, for example, hosted at least one exiled priest from
25
M. Lilliana Owens, Most Reverend Anthony J. Schuler, S.J., D.D., First Bishop of El
Paso, and Some Catholic Activities in the Diocese between 1915–1942, [Jesuit
Studies–Southwest, No. 3], (El Paso, 1953), pp. 320–21.
26
Chicago, Archives of the Catholic Archdiocese of Chicago, “Report on Exiled
Clergy in the United States,” 1927, Document No. 1927-G-1 (3).
27
Dolan and Hinojosa, Mexican Americans and the Catholic Church, p. 163; Mike
Davis, City of Quartz, pp. 330–31.

BY JULIA G. YOUNG

285

Jalisco and was managed by the Claretians and the Cordi-Marian sisters, both exiled religious orders.28
In many of the communities where they settled, these religious
exiles would have a profound and lasting impact on the Mexican
immigrants who lived there. A closer look at these four communities
will clarify the role of the religious exiles—as well as that of the U.S.
Catholic Church—in fomenting a connection between Mexican immigrants and the religious conflict at home.
4. Four Communities of Cristero Supporters
Archival evidence about the activities of exiled priests and bishops
within specific Mexican immigrant communities provides a more
vivid and personal picture of these Cristero supporters, who—already
predisposed to be interested in (or at the very least, affected by) the
Cristero War because of their region of origin—found that the conflict
had quite literally followed them across the border in the form of the
religious exiles. Indeed, it seems that the region of destination for
Mexican immigrants in the 1920s may have ultimately played an equal
or even greater role than their region of origin—for, if the Catholic
presence (in the form of religious exiles, religious organizations, and
religious institutions) was vibrant in the area where these individuals
resettled, the opportunities for involvement in Cristero causes were
much greater. To further explore the different ways in which religious
exiles and Mexican immigrants interacted, the activities of Cristero
supporters within four cities—San Antonio, El Paso, Los Angeles, and
Chicago—are summarized below. Thanks to a wealth of archival
sources from Catholic and government archives in both Mexico and
the United States, the history of these Cristero supporters—largely
unexamined in the historiography—can begin to be reconstructed.29
San Antonio—Diplomacy and Peaceful Protest
During the late 1920s, San Antonio became an important center for
Mexican Cristero sympathizers. Home to a sizable Mexican population with a thriving middle class, San Antonio received 21,000 new
28
Rosales, “Mexican Immigration to the Urban Midwest,” p. 165; McCarthy, “Which
Christ Came to Chicago,” p. 212.
29
For a more detailed account of the activities of the Cristero diaspora in the United
States, see Julia Young, “Mexican Emigration to the United States during the Cristero
War, 1926–1929” (PhD diss., University of Chicago, 2009).

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arrivals between 1920 and 1930.30 The city had long attracted prominent Mexican political exiles of all stripes, and so it was fitting that,
during the Cristero War years, San Antonio would serve as the primary
destination for numerous lay Catholic political exiles, as well as for
many of Mexico’s Catholic hierarchy.
The city’s two most active and prominent Catholic political exiles
were René Capistrán Garza and Luis Bustos, who were among
Mexico’s most prominent Catholic political leaders (see figure 5).
After arriving in San Antonio in 1927, Capistrán Garza, Bustos, and
their many compatriots and co-conspirators attempted to solicit the
support of prominent U.S. and Mexican Catholics as well as Mexican
political exiles of different political leanings.Although they frequently
traveled to different cities in the United States, San Antonio served as
their base of operations: they regularly convened at the Robert E. Lee
Hotel (a gathering spot favored by many Mexican political exiles), as
well as at the city’s various Catholic churches.31
Capistrán Garza and Bustos, like many Mexican political exiles,
were well educated, could speak and write in English as well as
Spanish, and were politically and financially well connected. In San
Antonio, they and other influential Mexican Catholics worked to promote the Cristero cause primarily through publicity campaigns and
diplomacy—they formed clubs, associations, and political parties;
sponsored public meetings in assembly halls; produced flyers,
posters, and newspapers; and raised money and awareness of the
issues with Mexican and American audiences. Indeed, both men traveled to Washington, DC; New York; and Rome to appeal to powerful
U.S. Catholics in those cities.
Lay Catholic political exiles like Capistrán Garza and Bustos were
assisted in their efforts by several members of Mexico’s Catholic hierarchy, who had arrived in San Antonio in spring 1927. During their
exile, these powerful prelates—including Archbishops José Mora y
Del Río and Leopoldo Ruiz y Flóres, as well as Bishop Ignacio
Valdespino y Díaz—lived in the College of the Incarnate Word in San
Antonio, and the Mexican Episcopal Committee formally convened
there throughout the duration of the armed conflict. Although the
30

García, Rise of the Mexican American Middle Class, pp. 28, 35–36.
Report by Department of Justice agent J. J. Lawrence, San Antonio, August 11,
1927, NACP, State RG 59, Decimal File 812.00/28639.
31

BY JULIA G. YOUNG

287

FIGURE 5. René Capistrán Garza, Catholic political leader. Special Collections,
Georgetown University Library, America Magazine Archives, Box 19, Folder
21. Reproduced by permission of America Press, Inc.

Mexican bishops and archbishops were not always in agreement with
lay Catholic political leaders (particularly pertaining to the level of
support that should be offered to the armed uprising), they nevertheless provided the exiles with political connections, as well as
moral and financial support.32
Significantly, the city’s Mexican Catholics—both lay and clerical—had
the support of Drossaerts, who advocated the Cristero cause both at the
diplomatic level and within the local Mexican Catholic communities.
During the patriotic festivals sponsored by the Mexican consulate and
other members of the Mexican immigrant community, Drossaerts even
pressured the city’s mayor to boycott the event and asked Mexican
Catholics to abstain from participating as well. A powerful and respected figure both within Catholic and other circles, Drossaerts’s advo32
Report from Agent 47 in San Antonio to the Jefe del Departamento Confidencial,
April 25–26, 1927, AGN-IPS,Vol. 54, Expediente 10.

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CRISTERO DIASPORA

cacy lent an aura of political legitimacy to the efforts of San Antonio’s
Mexican Catholics to oppose Mexico’s anticlerical government.33
The lay political exiles, the exiled prelates, and Drossaerts all
worked to support the Catholic cause in Mexico through diplomacy
and public protest, and San Antonio’s larger Mexican Catholic community would undertake similar efforts. For example, on the morning
of December 4, 1927, some 500 members of San Antonio’s Mexican
immigrant community assembled downtown in the square facing the
Mexican consulate. There, they presented a signed petition blaming
the Calles government for provoking the Cristero rebellion, protesting
the violence and brutality of government forces, and requesting that
Calles “re-establish law and order and [reform] the Constitution and
the legal codes to meet the wishes of the people.”34
In addition to participating in public protests such as these,
Mexican Catholics in San Antonio also could join several thriving
Catholic societies and associations such as the Vassallos and Vasallas
de Cristo Rey, which “addressed the violence and political upheaval in
. . . Mexico by fostering the resurgence of religious practice among
Mexicans.”35 Thus, during the late 1920s San Antonio’s Cristero supporters had numerous opportunities to participate publicly—yet
peacefully—in the Cristero conflict and to assert their political goals
in the process. Further to the south, Mexican immigrants who supported the Cristero cause would do so in a more intense—and even
violent—manner.
El Paso—Border Revolts
On the evening of June 18, 1927, about 5000 El Paso residents
attended a public reception honoring several bishops from Mexico in
exile in the United States. After speeches by the bishops and Schuler,
the audience responded fervently. As one historian recounts, “What
33
Dolan and Hinojosa, Mexican Americans and the Catholic Church, p. 79. “El
Mayor Tobin no tomará parte en los festejos que organiza la Junta Patriótica de San
Antonio” and “Renuncia a su candidatura de reina,” La Prensa, August 1, 1926, 1;“El Sr.
Obispo Drossaerts pide a sus diocesanos mexicanos de San Antonio que se abstengan
de participar en las fiestas de Independencia,” Mexico, July 30, 1926, 1; “Death in
Mexico,” Time, May 28, 1928, 22.
34
“Border Mexicans Excoriate Calles: They Hand Protest to Consul at San Antonio,
Charging Murder,Torture, and Tyranny,” New York Times, December 5, 1927, 25.
35
Timothy M. Matovina, Guadalupe and Her Faithful: Latino Catholics in San
Antonio from Colonial Origins to the Present (Baltimore, 2005), p. 111.

BY JULIA G. YOUNG

289

was now the familiar Mexican Catholic cry of fidelity, ‘Viva Cristo
Rey!’ . . . was frequently heard during the reception and was shouted
periodically by the great throng. The next morning, which was the
Sunday after the feast of Corpus Christi, some 35,000 people,“many
of them refugees,” marched through the city’s streets in what would
be remembered as the city’s largest religious demonstration.36
The 1927 procession provided striking evidence of the incredible
demographic growth of the city’s Mexican community, as well as its
religious and political leanings that were emphatically pro-Cristero. By
the late 1920s, El Paso—which had barely been more than a few buildings in the desert at the turn of the century—was now a booming city
of 100,000 people, more than 60 percent of whom were Mexican.37
If the efforts of many pro-Cristero Mexicans in San Antonio centered
around diplomacy, Cristero supporters in El Paso and the surrounding
border region seem to have participated in more militant acts, from
clandestine arms smuggling to open rebellion. The most famous of
these was José Gándara, an ardently Catholic businessman with family
roots in the Mexican state of Chihuahua, who attempted to lead a
Cristero revolt from within the United States (see figure 6). With the
backing and counsel of exiled Sonoran bishop Juan Navarrete, Gándara
planned an uprising that—had it been successful—would have
spanned 300 miles of border between Tucson, Arizona, and El Paso,
Texas. Although this militant effort failed when U.S. Department of
Justice agents caught Gándara, it was indicative of the fervent levels of
support of some El Paso Mexicans for the Cristero cause.38
Indeed, relative proximity to the Cristero battlefields meant that El
Paso and other parts of the U.S.-Mexico border were hotbeds of militant activity during the Cristero War years—and exiled priests, nuns,
and bishops played a key role in organizing and participating in these
efforts. An exiled priest in Del Rio,Texas, masterminded another failed
Catholic uprising, which was led by immigrant Simón Tenorio.39
36

Moore, Acts of Faith, pp. 102–03.
Bresette, Mexicans in the United States: A Report of a Brief Survey.
38
Report from Agent 2 in Chihuahua to Jefe del Departamento Confidencial, July 12,
1927,AGN-IPS,Vol. 230, Expediente 64.
39
Mexico City, Archivo Histórico Genaro Estrada, Secretaría Relaciones Exteriores
[hereafter SRE], Informe Número 394 [no author], Del Río, Texas, August 14, 1927,
Legajos Encuadernados 822-8; “Simon Tenorio et al.,” report by Agent J. J. Lawrence,
August 18, 1927, NACP, State RG 59, Decimal File 812.00/28745.
37

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CRISTERO DIASPORA

FIGURE 6. José Gándara, Catholic militant. Special Collections, Georgetown
University Library, America Magazine Archives, Box 19, Folder 21.
Reproduced by permission of America Press, Inc.

Finally, Cristero supporters in El Paso’s Mexican community aided the
Cristero cause by providing desperately needed resources—money,
arms, and munitions—to Cristero troops, and several exiled priests
were involved with arms smuggling. One of these, Pedro González,
was said to have led a vast smuggling network along the border.The
Knights of Columbus—with both Mexican and American chapters in
El Paso and other border cities—provided some of the crucial financial backing for these arms smuggling efforts.40 Women, too, were
involved in such clandestine activities. Mexican border officials
reported that bands of nuns were known to carry Catholic propaganda onto trains crossing the border.41
40
Report from Subsecretarío of SRE to the Secretarío de Gobernación, March 7,
1928,AGN-IPS,Vol. 232, Expediente 48.
41
Memorandum from the Jefe del Departamento Confidencial to the Chief of the
Migration Office, December 11, 1928,AGN-IPS,Vol. 295, Expediente 28.

BY JULIA G. YOUNG

291

These activities received some degree of tacit support from the
U.S. Catholic Church.The efforts of the NCWC’s Immigration Bureau
in El Paso have been discussed, but it also is worthwhile to underscore the role of Schuler. In addition to organizing and speaking at
events such as the Corpus Christi parade, Schuler provided up to
$120,000 for the religious refugees in El Paso. He also lent financial
assistance to El Paso’s pro-Cristero publications, which included El
Diario de El Paso, a militantly Catholic newspaper, and Revista
Católica, which was produced and edited by exiled Jesuits.42
Although Schuler may not have been directly involved in the militant
efforts occurring within his diocese, he was certainly aware of such
activities, and his advocacy on behalf of Mexico’s Catholic exiles, as
well as the local Catholic press, helped to create a supportive environment for Cristero activism in El Paso and the borderlands.
Los Angeles—Marches, Processions, and a Vocal Bishop
As in Texas, Cristero supporters in Los Angeles found strength in
sheer numbers and received ample support from the U.S. Catholic
hierarchy as well as from Mexican religious exiles.The city’s Mexican
community grew rapidly during the Cristero War years—between
1920 and 1930, the city’s Mexican population tripled from 33,644 to
97,116.43
During the late 1920s, Los Angeles hosted numerous priests, nuns,
and bishops from Mexico, and they helped to foment the growth of
numerous new Catholic social spaces: by 1930, there were at least a
dozen new Mexican Catholic churches (more than all the other
Christian denominations combined), several new Catholic organizations (such as the Holy Name Society and the Hijas de Maria), and four
Catholic community centers in Mexican neighborhoods hosting
recreational activities, debating and religious clubs, and catechetical
42
Letter on behalf of Schuler from Bishop Francis Kelley, Diocese of Oklahoma, Fall
1929, ACUA-NCWC, Mexican Files, Box 150, Folder 25. “News Items,” May 10, 1929,
ACUA-NCWC, Mexican Files, Box 148, Folder 6. Report from C.T.Valdivia, Presbitero at
the Centro Propagandista de la Fe in Colton, CA, to the Ministro de Gobernación,August
12, 1927, AGN-IPS, Vol. 225, Expediente 15; Report from Cónsul General in El Paso to
Secretario de Gobernación, August 30, 1934, AGN, Fondo Dirección de Gobierno, Vol.
126, Expediente 2.340 (73) 66; Report from Delegado de Migracion, Piedras Negras,
Coahuila, to the Secretaria de Gobernación, February 26, 1927, AGN-IPS, Vol. 227,
Expediente 34.
43
Sánchez, Becoming Mexican American, p. 46.

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training. The diocese directly financed some of these new spaces,
thanks to the sympathetic attitude and actions of Bishop John J.
Cantwell, who hosted numerous exiled clergy from Mexico, helped to
secure financing for new churches for the growing Mexican population, and sought to ensure the religious education of Mexican children
through outreach efforts.44
In terms of political organizing, however, Los Angeles’s pro-Cristero
Mexicans initially lacked a single strong figure to organize their activities. During 1926 and 1927, infighting among would-be leaders hindered any widespread organization among Mexican Catholics in Los
Angeles.45 This would change with the April 1928 arrival of José de
Jesús Manríquez y Zarate, the exiled bishop of Huejutla, Mexico. A
fierce advocate for the militant Catholic stance, the bishop would do
more than any single person to unite Mexicans in Los Angeles—as
well as in other parts of the United States—in support of the Cristero
cause.A prolific writer, Manríquez y Zárate chronicled his activities in
Los Angeles in a remarkable series of letters to Cristero activists in
Mexico.
Although Manríquez y Zárate participated in a variety of activities—including publishing editorials and pamphlets, participating in
diplomatic negotiations, working with arms smugglers, corresponding
with fighters in the battlefields, and sending money back to Mexico—
his most important effort was in organizing a series of public
marches.These events would attract participation and attention from
thousands of Cristero supporters in Los Angeles.
In June 1928, the bishop collaborated with community leaders to
organize a procession for the feast of Corpus Christi.The march began
at Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe Church in Belvedere and attracted
more than 10,000 people, most of them Mexicans:
44
Samuel Ortegon,“The Religious Status of the Mexican Population of Los Angeles”
(Master’s thesis, University of Southern California, 1932), pp. 45–47. Other accounts
place the number at fifty; see Davis, City of Quartz, pp. 330–31. Mexico City, Archivo
Histórico, Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México,“Los Angeles Now Second Largest
Mexican City-Mission Problem Acute,” The Tidings, May 18, 1927, Fondo Manuel
Palomar y Vizcarra, Serie Colección Traslosheros [hereafter UNAM-Traslosheros], Caja
100, Expediente 724, Foja 6858.
45
Mexico City, CONDUMEX Center for Historical Studies, Archivo Cristero, Report
from a Liga Agent in Los Angeles, December 28, 1927, Fondo CLXXXVI, Carpeta 5, Legajo
380–466, Document 465.

BY JULIA G. YOUNG

293

Almost all of the streets where the procession passed were adorned with
flowers intertwined on Mexican and North American pavilions; and placards reading “Viva México,”“Viva Cristo Rey,” were placed in large lettering across the same avenues and in great number. . . .46

Shortly afterward, in October 1928, the bishop organized another
“truly brilliant” celebration of Christ the King, which was attended by
approximately 5000 Los Angeles-area Mexicans (see figure 7).
Officiated by four bishops and numerous priests, the day’s events
included a Mass, a solemn oath of vassalage to Christ the King, a
prayer for the pope, and a blessing.47
Although it is impossible to know with certainty how the Mexican
immigrants attending these marches and processions perceived their
experience, it is apparent that thousands of them participated enthusiastically. Listening to the sermons about the suffering and heroism
on the Cristero battlefields, at least some attendees may have felt
inspired, as Manríquez y Zárate put it,“to unite with their compatriots
in the glorification of Cristo Rey, above all [in] defending this cause in
the battlefields.”48 Furthermore, the bishop of Huejutla was well
aware that these marches offered a way for Cristero supporters to
take a public stance against Mexico’s anticlerical government and to
affirm their own patriotism in the process. Indeed, he reported after
the October march that participants “that beforehand were embarrassed to call themselves Mexicans, are now honored to announce
their nationality.”49 Religious processions such as these would have
lasting significance and would become regularly recurring events in
Los Angeles into the mid-1930s.50
46
“Mas de Diez Mil Mexicanos Formaron en el Gran Desfile: Monseñor Manríque y
Zárate pronunció el sermón final,” El Diario de El Paso, June 14, 1928, UNAMTraslosheros, Caja 100, Expediente 724, Foja 6897.“Corpus Christi Fete Gay Event:Ten
Thousand of City’s Latin Presidents Participate,” Los Angeles Times, June 11, 1928,A2.
47
Mexico City, Instituto Nacional de Antropologia e Historia,Archivo Miguel Palomar
y Vizcarra, José de Jesús Manríquez y Zárate [hereafter MyZ] to Manuel Palomar y
Vizcarra [hereafter PyV], November 3, 1928, Serie Conflicto Religioso, rollo de microfilm sin numero [hereafter INAH-MPV].
48
MyZ to PyV, November 3, 1928, INAH-MPV.
49
MyZ to PyV, November 3, 1928, INAH-MPV.
50
Francisco E. Balderrama, In Defense of La Raza: The Los Angeles Mexican
Consulate and the Mexican Community, 1929 to 1936 (Tucson, 1982), p. 77. See also
Michael E. Engh, S.J., “Companion of the Immigrants: Devotion to Our Lady of
Guadalupe among Mexicans in the Los Angeles Area, 1900–1940,” Journal of Hispanic
Latino Theology, 5, no 1 (1997), 37–47.

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CRISTERO DIASPORA

FIGURE 7. Flyer from the Fiesta de Cristo Rey, Los Angeles, October 1928.
UNAM-Traslosheros, Caja 102, Expediente 730, Document 7345. Reproduced
by permission of the Archivo Histórico de la UNAM.

BY JULIA G. YOUNG

295

Chicago—Forming Parishes and Community Organizing
While Mexicans in Los Angeles were displaying a religious form of
patriotism in a series of marches, Mexican Catholics in Chicago were
undertaking similar public efforts, albeit on a smaller scale. In contrast
to the three cities previously discussed, Chicago’s Mexican community during the late 1920s was almost entirely composed of new
immigrants. It had, however, experienced a similar rate of growth
during that decade: with about 1200 Mexicans in 1920, Chicago’s
Mexican community had grown to about 21,000 by 1930.51
Like the other cities, Chicago’s religious exiles were instrumental in
establishing links to the ongoing religious conflict in Mexico. In terms of
clerical exiles, Chicago did not host any Mexican bishops or archbishops; rather, the single most important group of religious exiles were the
Claretians, clergy of a Spanish religious order who had arrived in
Chicago in 1924. There, they played a key role in founding a Mexican
parish church, Our Lady of Guadalupe. As its records attest, the religious
conflict was of central importance to priests and parishioners. Sunday
sermons frequently covered the topic of Cristero martyrdom, religious
freedom in Mexico,and the evils of the Mexican government;priests also
asked parishioners to donate money for the Cristero cause. Furthermore, the Cristero War provided a context for public events such as a
cornerstone-laying ceremony for Our Lady of Guadalupe’s new building.
The powerful Mexican bishop Pascual Díaz attended the ceremony,
which took place on April 1, 1928.The open car in which the bishop
rode headed a procession of the city’s numerous Catholic societies—
including some 500 Mexicans—and an audience of about 10,000
Catholics watched the parade wend its way through South Chicago’s
streets.52 During the cornerstone-laying ceremony, Our Lady of
Guadalupe’s canon priest, James Tort, C.M.F., discussed “the terrible
conditions in which can be found thousands of Mexican Catholics who
are denied in their own fatherland the right to worship God.”Later, Díaz
“protested against [these] calumnies, and exhorted the Mexican colony
to be always grateful for the religious liberty of this Nation the United
States and to always preserve their faith and their religion.”53
51
Juan R. García, Mexicans in the Midwest, 1900–1932 (Tucson, 1996), pp. 27, 46,
43, 239.
52
Malachy McCarthy,“Which Christ Came to Chicago,” p. 214.
53
Chicago, Claretian Missionaries Archives, Announcements, Our Lady of Guadalupe
Parish, April 1, 1928.

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CRISTERO DIASPORA

Chicago’s Mexican Catholic community remained aware of and
connected to the Cristero conflict not only through parish events but
also through religious organizations, several of which were formed
during the late 1920s. One important association was El Circulo de
Obreros Catolicos “San José,” which raised funds for the building of
the church of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Los Obreros, as the group came
to be known, also engaged in fund-raising and public advocacy on
behalf of the Church in Mexico after the onset of the Cristero War.The
group also founded the newspaper El Amigo del Hogar, which published frequent articles reminding readers about the violent conflict
in Mexico.54
Another increasingly prominent organization was the Beneficient
Society Pro-Mexico, which devoted itself to raising funds to support
the Cristero cause in Mexico and publishing propaganda within the
United States to attract attention to the Cristero issues. By May 1928,
the society boasted Illinois-based branches in South Chicago, Aurora,
Elgin, Joliet, Melrose Park, and Waukegan as well as other branches in
Detroit, Gary, Indiana Harbor, and Milwaukee. Although Carlos
Fernández, a middle-class Catholic immigrant living in Chicago,
founded the organization, many of its members were “poor Mexican
laborers” who resided in Chicago, Detroit, and other Midwestern
cities.55
Chicago’s community of Mexican Catholics, despite its small size
and relative poverty, received the backing of a powerful figure in the
U.S. Catholic hierarchy: Cardinal George Mundelein, who had stated
in 1926 that he was willing to help the Mexican community in the
Midwest “with all the power and all my faculties” due to the urgent
nature of the Cristero conflict. In fact, the arrival of clerical exiles,
the needs of the growing Mexican community, and Mundelein’s sympathy for the Cristero cause led him to “[break] with his established
policy of discouraging national parishes” and to support the con54

Dolan and Hinojosa, Mexican Americans and the Catholic Church, p. 195.
Mexico City, Archivo Histórico, UNAM, Carlos Fernández to the National Catholic
Welfare Conference, May 7, 1928, Fondo Manuel Palomar y Vizcarra, Serie Liga Nacional
Defensora de la Libertad Religiosa [hereafter UNAM-LNDLR], Document 4050, Inv. No.
5050; Carlos Fernández to Salvador Chavez Hayhoe, May 7, 1928, UNAM-LNDLR,
Document 4071, Inv. No. 5051; Carlos Fernández and associates to Rev. D. Zaldívar,
Chicago, May 11, 1928, UNAM-LNDLR Document 4089, Inv. No. 5089; CF to Guillermo
Prieto-Yeme in San Antonio, March 13, 1928, UNAM-LNDLR 3954, Document, Inv. No.
4855.
55

BY JULIA G. YOUNG

297

struction of Mexican churches.56 Like their compatriots in San
Antonio, El Paso, and Los Angeles, Mexican Cristero supporters in
Chicago saw tangible benefits from the institutional support of the
U.S. Catholic Church.
5. Conclusions: The Historical Significance of the
Cristero Diaspora
In the four cities previously discussed, Mexican immigrants undertook a variety of actions in support of the Cristero cause: diplomacy
in San Antonio, militancy in El Paso, religious processions in Los
Angeles, and parish formation and community organizing efforts in
Chicago.These activities occurred nearly simultaneously and with an
identical goal: to express support for the Cristero cause and the
Catholic Church in Mexico. This shared purpose suggests that
Mexicans who supported the Cristero War from the United States
were part of a religious diaspora.
Numerous scholars have discussed the term diaspora; it is understood here to be a group of immigrants (both labor migrants as well
as exiles and/or refugees) who share a political goal related to their
homeland. In the case of the Cristero diaspora, this goal is perhaps
best described by Stefane Dufoix’s concept of the “antagonistic” diasporic mode, in which a migrant group rejects the legitimacy of the
ruling government in their country of origin and attempts “to liberate
their country, nation, people, or land.”57 In the case of the Cristero
diaspora, religion—specifically, the restoration of the Catholic Church
and Catholic practice in Mexico—served as the rationale behind their
political activities in the United States.

56
Chicago, Claretian Missionaries Archives, “Crónica de la Cuasi-Residencia de los
Misioneros Hijos del Corazón de Maria en Chicago, Illinois, U.S.A., Octubre 1924–
Agosto 1946.” Badillo, in Dolan and Hinojosa, Mexican Americans and the Catholic
Church, p. 256. Martínez,“Bordering on the Sacred,” p. 148.
57
Stefane Dufoix, Diasporas, trans. William Rodamor (Berkeley, 2006), p. 60. Dufoix
also cites William Safran’s six criteria for diasporas, which Mexico’s Cristero supporters
seem to meet: (1) “their or their ancestors’ dispersion from a center to at least two
peripheral foreign regions”; (2) “the persistence of a collective memory concerning
their homeland”; (3) “the certainty that their acceptance by the host society is important”; (4) “the maintenance of an often idealized homeland as a goal of return”; (5) the
belief in a collective duty to engage in the perpetuation, restoration, or security of the
country of origin”; and (6) “the maintenance of individual or collective relations with
the country of origin.”

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CRISTERO DIASPORA

By identifying this group of emigrants as a “Cristero diaspora” and
describing their activities, this article makes three historiographical
contributions. First, the vast majority of studies of the Cristero War
describes it as a strictly regional, popular conflict and portray those
in the Cristero cause as tradition-bound and isolated peasants who did
not emigrate, but rather stayed close to their parishes and villages.58
The activities of Cristero supporters in the United States, however,
demonstrate that the immigrants, religious exiles, and political
refugees who left Mexico during the 1920s extended the Cristero War
across national borders. Indeed, by employing archival sources from
both sides of the border to define and describe the Cristero diaspora,
this article recasts the Cristero War as a transnational conflict, rather
than a regional or even national one.
Second, many of the relevant historical studies of Mexican emigration to the United States depict the process of migration as a secularizing experience for Mexicans and view secularization as an
inevitable outcome of exposure to the more “modern” environment of
the United States.59 Yet it is apparent from the activities of Mexican
Cristero supporters in San Antonio, El Paso, Los Angeles, and Chicago
that many thousands of Mexican immigrants remained profoundly
religious and were willing to publicly express these religious goals
and beliefs.
Finally, this article also sheds new light on the role of the U.S.
Catholic Church during the Cristero conflict. Despite the widespread
racism of the era, the NCWC’s Immigration Bureau and the sympathetic bishops and archbishops in the four cities previously discussed
acknowledged the importance of Mexican parishes and parishioners
for the future of the embattled Catholic Church in Mexico.
Furthermore, by helping Mexican religious exiles to resettle within
58
Such studies include David Bailey, Viva Cristo Rey! The Cristero Rebellion and
the Church-State Conflict in Mexico (Austin,TX, 1974); Matthew Butler, Popular Piety
and Political Identity in Mexico’s Cristero Rebellion: Michoacán, 1927–29 (New York,
2004); Meyer, The Cristero Rebellion. Furthermore, in the field of Mexican migration
studies,Timothy Matovina is perhaps unique in considering religion—and more specifically, a “theology of exile”—as it affected community formation among Mexicans in
Texas. Matovina, Guadalupe and Her Faithful.
59
See Manuel Gamio, Mexican Immigration to the United States: A Study of
Human Migration and Adjustment (Chicago, 1930); Sánchez, Becoming Mexican
American. Exceptions include Dolan and Hinojosa, Mexican Americans and the
Catholic Church; Matovina, Guadalupe and Her Faithful; and McCarthy,“Which Christ
Came to Chicago.”

BY JULIA G. YOUNG

299

Mexican emigrant communities and by supporting their religious and
political activities there, these U.S. Catholics played a key role in the
development of the Cristero diaspora.60
Although the existence and activities of this Cristero diaspora have
been demonstrated in the preceding pages, there remain three central
questions about this group that would benefit from further examination.The first of these concerns the exact number of Mexican immigrants who supported the Cristero cause. Unfortunately, it is difficult
to determine any concrete statistical estimates based on the available
sources.This holds true for estimates of the size of the entire Mexican
immigrant population during these years, as well: disparate projections range from as low as 500,000 to 4 million.61 Given the inaccuracy or incompleteness of demographic surveys of the period, and
given that there was no thorough, contemporaneous study of political
affiliations among Mexican immigrants during the 1920s, further
archival investigation might provide new clues to this question.62
The second question concerns the demographic characteristics of
this diasporic group. Were pro-Cristero Mexicans predominantly rich
or poor, male or female, urban or rural? Based on the activities in San
Antonio, El Paso, Los Angeles, and Chicago, it is only possible to conclude here that this group was more remarkable for its diversity than
for any common characteristic or set of characteristics; it included
60
Although scholars such as Malachy McCarthy and Anne Martínez have provided
excellent analyses of the role of the U.S. Catholic Church in resettling religious refugees
from Mexico, they have both asserted that the U.S. hierarchy was uninterested in
Mexican laypeople. See McCarthy, “Which Christ Came to Chicago,” p. 200; Martínez,
“Bordering on the Sacred,” p. 189.
61
See José Hernandez Álvarez,“A Demographic Profile of the Mexican Immigration
to the United States, 1910–1950,” Journal of Inter-American Studies, 8 (1966), 471–96.
62
By calculating the percentage of the participants in the marches mentioned earlier, as compared to entire Mexican populations of each city, it is possible to obtain
some sense of the rates of participation (although it must be acknowledged that in the
marches in Los Angeles and El Paso, it is quite likely that some of the marchers were not
Mexican). If, by 1928, 3000 Mexicans marched in San Antonio, 35,000 in El Paso, 10,000
in Los Angeles, and 500 in Chicago, then this would indicate a participation rate of 5
percent in San Antonio (with 60,000 to 80,000 Mexicans), 50 percent in El Paso (with
around 60,000), 4 percent in Los Angeles (with 250,000), and .6 percent in Chicago
(with 75,000). These numbers, although quite vague, nonetheless suggest that a vocal
minority of Mexicans were willing to express their sympathy for the Catholic cause in
public. El Paso’s high number of Catholic sympathizers could probably be attributed to
its location as the home of the NCWC’s Immigration Bureau, as well as its proximity to
the border and its status as the first destination for many recent religious exiles.

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CRISTERO DIASPORA

wealthy and middle-class immigrants in San Antonio, poorer Mexicans
in Chicago and El Paso, women’s groups as well as men’s associations,
and migrants from a variety of places in Mexico. Nevertheless, a more
detailed study could tease out these distinctions further.
Finally, there is ample evidence that the formation and activities of
the Cristero diaspora have had a long-term impact for Mexican
Catholics on both sides of the border, as well as for the general U.S.
Catholic population. Many of Mexico’s religious exiles returned to
Mexico after the peace accords of 1929, where they, as well as
Mexico’s lay political exiles, continued to be active in Mexican politics.63 Others stayed in the United States—and indeed, many of the
schools, parishes, convents, and community organizations that they
founded still exist today. Some of these still bear the name of Christ
the King, reminding us of the central role played by the Cristero conflict for Mexican immigrant communities during the 1920s and
beyond.64 Thus, the story of the Cristero diaspora—one of emigration,
exile, nationalism, persecution, and religious belief—can have contemporary as well as historical implications.

63
In Mexico, the relationship between church and state has once again become a
topic of heightened public interest, and it is certainly worth studying what the resonance of the Cristero War—and particularly, of the Mexican political exiles who
returned to Mexico in the subsequent decades—might have for this debate. Numerous
recent events—the moralizing campaigns of the PAN, the debate over abortion in
Mexico City and the rise of the Pro-Vida lay organization, the political involvement of
Cardinal Norberto Rivera Carrera, the resurgence of ultraconservative lay organizations
such as the Legionarios de Cristo, the canonization of twenty-five Mexican martyrs in
2000, and the subsequent cross-country tour of their relics sponsored by the Knights
of Columbus—led many to wonder whether the Church would begin to assume a more
prominent role in Mexican politics and demonstrate that the church-state conflict is
still very much alive in the contemporary Mexican consciousness.
64
One of many such surviving institutions is the Carmelite Sisters of the Most Sacred
Heart of Los Angeles, founded by Maria Luisa Josefa, a religious refugee from Atotonilco
el Alto, Jalisco. See “Mother Luisita’s Story,” http://www.carmelitesistersocd.com/
foundress/MotherLuisitaLife.asp.

THE NINETY-SECOND ANNUAL MEETING OF
THE AMERICAN CATHOLIC HISTORICAL
ASSOCIATION
Report of the Committee on Program
The ninety-second annual meeting of the American Catholic Historical
Association was held in conjunction with the annual meetings of the
American Historical Association and affiliated societies at the Marriott Miracle
Mile Downtown Chicago, Illinois, from Thursday to Sunday, January 5–8, 2012.
A special thanks goes to Ellen Skerrett (Jane Addams Papers Project) and
Malachy R. McCarthy (Claretian Missionaries Archives USA) for their efforts in
developing the Chicago program. Without their leadership, the conference
would not have been a success.
On Thursday afternoon, the annual meeting kicked off with one session
composed of five panels.
The first panel, “Communities and Networks in Early Modern European
Catholicism,” featured papers by Dale Van Kley (Ohio State University) on
“Communities in Dialogue: Utrecht Jansenists and Catholics, 1769–74,” which
described the contrasting views of authority in those ecclesiastical parties;
Pierpaolo Polzonetti (University of Notre Dame) on “Community of Listeners:
Music as Universal Liturgical Language,” which highlighted the development
of new forms of instrumental music as a means of transcending linguistic and
cultural differences; and Ulrich Lehner (Marquette University) on
“Communities and Crime: Monastic Prisons in the Habsburg Territories,
1770–80,” which focused on the disciplinary system in selected male and
female religious houses. Ralph Keen (University of Illinois at Chicago) chaired
the session and provided the response.
In the panel “Reconciling Medieval Communities: Priests, People, and
Prostitutes” the following papers were read:Winston E. Black II (University of
Tennessee),“Shepherds Astray: Clerical Officers in the Later Medieval Court of
Conscience”; Marc B. Cels (Athabasca University, Alberta, Canada), “‘First be
Reconciled’: Penitential Reconciliation of Enemies by Parochial Priests”; and
Lori A.Woods (St. Francis University, PA),“Disciplinary Dilemmas: Reconciling
Prostitutes and Wayward Wives in Late Medieval Valencia.” Indre Cuplinskas
(St. Joseph’s College at the University of Alberta, Canada) chaired the session.
David M. Perry (Dominican University) provided insightful comments pointing to how the papers approached the issue of the effects of sin on community and difficulties of investigating both the theory and practice of reconciliation. This was followed by a lively discussion with the audience.
301

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THE 92ND ANNUAL MEETING OF THE AMERICAN CATHOLIC HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION

The third session of Thursday afternoon, “Latinos and U.S. Catholicism: A
Reappraisal,” was chaired by Malachy R. McCarthy (Claretian Missionaries
Archives USA) and focused on the challenges of ministering to Latino
Catholics today and in the past. The paper “Latinos and the Transformation of
American Catholicism” by Timothy Matovina (University of Notre Dame)
reflected current issues. “Making Mexican Parishes: Ethnic Succession in
Chicago Churches, 1947–77” by Deborah E. Kanter (Albion College) examined the transformation of Pilsen’s ethnic churches from an Eastern European
to a Spanish-speaking congregation. John J. Macias Jr. (Claremont Graduate
University), in the paper “The Resurrection of San Gabriel: The Image of
Mexican Catholics in the Context of the Spanish Fantasy Heritage,” presented
a different challenge. The local Mexican Catholic community had to contend
with California’s Protestant romanticized understanding of the state’s mission
heritage with the reality of ministering to an increasing Spanish-speaking
audience.A lively discussion followed.
The panel “Marian Devotion in North America” was composed of Kathleen
Sprows Cummings (University of Notre Dame), “An American Lourdes? The
Shrine of Our Lady of the Martyrs and the Search for an American Saint,
1884–1930”; Thomas A. Tweed (University of Texas at Austin), “Contesting
Protestants and Claiming America: Marian Devotion at Washington’s National
Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, 1919–59”; and Joseph Laycock
(Piedmont Virginia Community College), “The Pope Is an Imposter!
Subversive Marian Devotion in the Wake of Vatican II”; they then presented
their current research on Marian devotionalism in the eighteenth, nineteenth,
and twentieth centuries. Kristy Nabhan-Warren (Augustana College) chaired
the session. There was an open and lively discussion of the papers as members of the audience were quite engaged.
And last,“Perspectives in American Catholic History” highlighted the current doctoral work of three students, and these accompanied an additional
presentation on the seal of confession by Patrick Carey (Marquette
University). Kevin Q. Doyle, a student at Brandeis in early American history,
delivered the paper “Anti-Popery on Battlefields and Streets: The Fifth of
November and the Church of Rome in the Age of Revolution.” Doyle noted
that the specter of anti-Catholic feeling enkindled by this day has not subsided. Re-enactment societies are active in parts of New England, particularly
Rhode Island, as well as Virginia. Paul G. Monson, a student in historical theology at Marquette whose research is directed by Carey, compared two
important early Benedictine abbots in America—Boniface Wimmer and future
bishop Martin Marty—in a paper that underscored their contrasting
approaches to the role of the monastery in America. Monson pushed the idea
of “usefulness” or “utility” in attempting to understand the ecclesiology of
these abbots and how their respective foundations shaped monastic life well
into the twentieth century. Finally, Jacob Betz (University of Chicago) provided a work in progress on incarcerated Catholic youth and religious free-

THE 92ND ANNUAL MEETING OF THE AMERICAN CATHOLIC HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION

303

dom in America from 1865 to 1890.Audience questions were mediated by session chair Patrick J. Hayes (Redemptorist Archives of the Baltimore Province).
The Executive Council also met on Thursday afternoon.
A full day of sessions began on Friday. Four panels and a roundtable were
held in the morning, and four more sessions were held in the afternoon,
which were followed by two optional tours later in the day.
In the morning Robert E. Carbonneau, C.P. (Passionist Historical Archives)
chaired a roundtable session and the audience response on “Building a
Catholic Archival Network.” Emilie Gagnet Leumas (Archdiocese of New
Orleans) presented on “Documenting the Catholic Experience in Louisiana,”
Patricia A. Lawton (Catholic Research Resources Alliance) presented on
“Building Community and Content,” and Ellen D. Pierce (Maryknoll Mission
Archives) presented on “The Internet Mission Photography Archive at USC:
Maryknoll’s Global Collaboration to Share Visual Resources.”
The panel “Reconsidering Episcopal Leadership and Trusteeism in the U.S.
Catholic Church” found Paul Lubienecki, a graduate student at Case Western
Reserve University, presenting a paper on the efforts of John Timon,Vincentian
bishop of Buffalo, to create a favorable space for Catholic life in upstate New
York. He highlighted Timon’s recruitment and support of the Daughters of
Charity whose hospital served all citizens of Buffalo. Stern opposition from
Protestant adversaries did not daunt Timon.William J. Galush (professor emeritus of history, Loyola University Chicago) presented his research on the
Milwaukee-based Federation of Catholic Laymen. Founded by Polish activist
Michael Kruszka, this organization mobilized laypeople to demand a share in
administration and direction of Polish parishes. Although he appealed to certain fundamentals of American freedom, his model was the extensive lay
involvement of churches in Europe. Patrick McNamara (archivist,Archdiocese
of New York) presented the paper “George W. Mundelein: The New York Years,
1872–1915” on the early career of one of Chicago’s greatest archbishops. A
priest of the Diocese of Brooklyn, the bright, ambitious, and organizationally
astute Mundelein rose to power in his native see. Appointed auxiliary of
Brooklyn, he was ceded large amounts of power by his failing Ordinary and, by
the time of his appointment to Chicago in 1915, was the de facto leader of this
large and growing diocese. Mundelein demonstrated special talent for building
big and architecturally elegant buildings. McNamara argued that Mundelein’s
better-known tenure in Chicago was to some extent prefigured by his earlier
experience in his native Brooklyn.A lively discussion followed.
The third panel of the morning found Margaret M. McGuinness (La Salle
University) chairing “Constructing Catholic Identity in Modern America.”
William B. Kurtz (University of Virginia) presented the paper “The Making of
a Catholic Hero: William S. Rosecrans and the Catholic Memory of the

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THE 92ND ANNUAL MEETING OF THE AMERICAN CATHOLIC HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION

American Civil War,” arguing that Catholic convert and Civil War general
William Rosecrans has been ignored by historians examining the place of
Catholics in that conflict because they have focused primarily on the Irish
experience. In “Promotion of and Devotion to the Little Flower as Window to
Chicago’s Catholic Life in the 1920s,” Michael D. Jacobs (University of
Wisconsin–Baraboo) explained how devotion to the Little Flower helped to
create a shared identity among a diverse group of ethnic parishes. Again, a
lively discussion and question period followed the presentations.
The fourth panel on Friday morning,“The Papacy between Traditionalism
and Modernity: From Pius XI to Benedict XVI,” was chaired by J. Casey
Hammond (Singapore University of Technology and Design). Frank J. Coppa
(St. John’s University) presented “The Pre-Vatican Reformism of Pius XI and
Pius XII,” whereas Peter C. Kent (University of New Brunswick, Canada)
focused on postconciliar popes in “John Paul II and Benedict XVI between
Reform and Restoration.” Kevin Madigan (Harvard University Divinity School)
served as commentator.
Friday afternoon began with the graduate student roundtable “Mining
Religious Sources: Profits and Pitfalls,” which was chaired by Kathleen Sprows
Cummings (University of Notre Dame). Participating were three archivists,
two librarians, and three senior scholars as well as dozen graduate students.
After all present introduced themselves and described their current projects,
the senior scholars and archivists suggested helpful techniques for graduate
students approaching archivists for the first time. These included asking a
senior colleague in their field to make the initial introduction, framing their
topic clearly, and recognizing the fact that all archives are organized differently and that the archivist will not be approaching the collections with the
same perspective or the same questions as the researchers. The problems and
challenges of working with digitalized material were discussed. Participants
also raised challenges particular to their individual research projects.
Three panels were held Friday afternoon. “The Popular Culture of
Transatlantic Catholicism in the Twentieth Century” included the following
papers: “Guy Thorne, Popular Catholicism, and Fin-de-siècle Literature” by
Bethany Kilcrease (Aquinas College); “Parish Closure versus Cultural
Celebration: Basque and Hispanic Immigrant Catholic Church Experience in
Twentieth-Century America” by John P. Bieter Jr. (Boise State University); and
“No Free Pass: Representations of Catholic Guilt in Popular Culture” by Sarah
K. Nytroe (DeSales University). James M. O’Toole (Boston College) chaired the
session and provided some comment before extended audience discussion.
“Conciliar Catholicism in Comparison: Public Activism in the United States
and Germany, 1965–85” offered comparisons of two case studies of
Catholicism in the immediate aftermath of the Second Vatican Council, in
Germany and the United States. Kirsten Oboth (Ruhr-University Bochum) and
Isabelle Nagel (Ruhr-University Bochum) offered papers comparing the trans-

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formation of women religious in both countries. Jens Oboth (Ruhr-University
Bochum) and Daniel Gibboney (Florida State University) offered papers comparing peace movements in the two nations. Nagel presented the paper “The
Transformation Process of Women Religious in the United States between the
1950s and the 1970s” that focused on the role of the Sister Formation
Conference and American norms of participatory governance in the reform
process pursued by the Sisters of Charity of the Blessed Virgin Mary of
Dubuque, IA. Kirsten Oboth presented “The Transformation of the Good
Shepherd Sisters in Germany between the 1950s and the 1980s,” which
explored how Catholic sisters in the Good Shepherd Sisters embraced a radical form of total obedience in the postwar period, even as German society
and the Catholic Church were moving toward more collegial models of
shared authority. Jens Oboth presented “Coming to Terms with the Nazi Past
as a Catalyst of Religious Emancipation and Transformation? The German
Section of ‘Pax Christi,’ 1948–89” in which he traced the gradual evolution of
Pax Christi in Germany from an initially devotional and Marian-centered
Catholic Action movement seeking the conversion of Europe to a politicallyoriented organization that criticized the complicity of German bishops in the
human atrocities of World War II. Gibboney presented “Monasticisms of
Different Flavors: Thomas Merton and Daniel Berrigan’s Engagement with
Buddhism, Opposition to the Vietnam War, and the Making of the Catholic
Church in Post–Vatican II America,” in which he argued that both Merton and
Berrigan drew from a model of monasticism and religious community as a critique of worldly realities that could be employed to criticize American action
in the Vietnam War. Amy L. Koehlinger (Florida State University) chaired the
session and offered a response that highlighted some comparative issues
raised by the papers, specifically the role that national organizations played
(or did not, in the German case) in the renewal process of women religious
and the divergent ways that German and American Catholics responded to
the challenge of living in a state that was involved in violent conflict and
human rights violations.
In “Rome and American Culture from Leo XIII to John Paul II,” Cassandra L.
Yacovazzi (University of Missouri–Columbia) presented “The Yankee and the
Pontiff: A Comparison of Samuel Clemens’ and Pope Leo XIII’s Critique of
Modernity in the Late Nineteenth Century”; Peter S. Cajka (Boston College)
delivered “Beyond Self-Mortification to the Politics of Human Rights: Paul VI’s
1966 Abolition of Fasting in the American Context, 1930–85”; and Dominic E.
Faraone (Marquette University) spoke on “Death and the Council: Vatican II
and Catholic Grief in Milwaukee.” Charles R. Gallagher, S.J. (Boston College)
chaired the session and served as commentator. This panel composed entirely
of graduate students focused on the many aspects of cross contact between
Rome and United States from the nineteenth through the twentieth centuries.
These cultural contacts range from American classical literature to the observation of pietistic practices. All three papers dealt in one way or another with
the adjustment of both practice and person to modernity.Yacovazzi took the

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view that Clemens, through his “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s
Court,” and Pope Leo XIII, in his encyclical Rerum Novarum, both took a cynical position toward modernism and the rise of technology in the West. Rather
than counting this as a reaction to industrialization, the paper argued that
both principals came from different paths to philosophically agree upon the
larger objective. Cajka, presenting the most provocative paper, elicited the
most response. In his discussion of Lent, Cajka introduced the concept of disembodiment in terms of Lenten practice and effects on the body; he argued
that a shift occurred prior to and after the Second Vatican Council, which
allowed for this disembodiment to take place. Faraone offered a very wellresearched and well-argued paper on how one diocese dealt with social and
economic problems connected to funeral rites, grieving, and the economic
forces connected to modern issues involving death and dying in Catholicism.
In addition to the various sessions and roundtables that individuals could
attend during the annual conference, members were also invited to participate in two Chicago tours. Ellen Skerrett (Jane Addams Papers Project) conducted the first tour: “In the Shadow of Hull House: Catholic Church
Architecture on Chicago’s Near West Side,” which was hosted by the Catholic
Studies Program, University of Illinois at Chicago.This was followed by a tour
of nearby St. James’s Chapel, conducted by Ralph Keen (University of Illinois
at Chicago) and sponsored by the Catholic Studies Program at UIC.An onsite
reception concluded the event.
The annual General Business meeting was held in the late afternoon
where changes to the Constitution were approved after careful and serious
deliberation (see the Report of the Executive Secretary and Treasurer in this
issue).
Three sessions and a roundtable were held on Saturday morning.The first
session, “Catholic Architecture and the Shaping of Urban America,” featured
Catherine Osborne (Fordham University) on “Lay Patrons of Church
Architecture in Twentieth-Century American Catholicism”; Joseph C. Bigott
(Purdue University Calumet) on “Form Followed Culture: Roman Catholic
Parish Architecture in Chicagoland, 1860–1935”; and Denis R. McNamara
(University of St. Mary of the Lake/Mundelein Seminary) on “Hidden in Plain
Sight: The Theological Foundations of Chicago’s Immigrant Church
Architecture.” The chair and commentator was Peter W. Williams (Miami
University, Oxford, OH).
The second session,“Urban Catholic Education:The Best of Times, the Worst
of Times,” was chaired by Philip Gleason (professor emeritus of history,
University of Notre Dame), who also served as commentator. It began with
“Praying to Saint Anthony:The Recent History of Urban Catholic Education,” a
paper delivered by Timothy G. Walch (director emeritus, Herbert Hoover
Presidential Library) that discussed a number of initiatives that sought to
respond to the critical challenges facing Catholic educators since the 1960s.

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He viewed as particularly encouraging the development of the combined
Nativity/Miguel-Cristo Rey network of schools and the growth of teacher
preparation programs under the aegis of the University Consortium for
Catholic Education. In contrast to Walch’s broad overview of recent initiatives,
Justin D. Poché (College of the Holy Cross) concentrated on a highly charged
moment in a particular locale in “The Politics of Reconciliation in New
Orleans Catholic Schools, 1962–1972” (a title different from one provided to
the planners of the ACHA program). Poché reviewed the problems encountered by Catholic educators in their efforts to achieve racial integration in the
decade following Archbishop Joseph Rummel’s integration order of 1962.The
third paper,“Reimagining Catholic Education in Newark: The Resurrection of
St. Benedict’s Prep,” was presented by Thomas A. McCabe (Rutgers
University–Newark). As the title suggests, it was sharply focused on the experience of a single school in Newark, NJ, a city torn by social, economic, and
racial upheaval. Required by exigent pressures to close for the academic year
1972–73, St. Benedict’s Preparatory School managed to reinvent itself to serve
a new, nearly all-black clientele; it has since prospered as an integrated academy. In his comments, Gleason noted that the three presentations moved from
the national, through the regional, to the individual-school level in terms of
scale. He also called attention to the interesting role played by religious communities of men in Walch’s and McCabe’s papers.The audience, though small,
raised a number of questions, and a lively discussion ensued.
Shawn F. Peters (University of Wisconsin, Madison) responded to two
papers for the panel “Issues and Outcomes Surrounding the Second Vatican
Council.” These were supplied by Rosalie G. Riegle (Saginaw Valley State
University) and Nicholas Rademacher (Cabrini College). Riegle’s work centered on oral testimonies of several dozen Catholic Workers, the results of
which form part of two forthcoming books that will emerge this year. The
paper was a foretaste of these volumes, as was the response of Peters, whose
own book on the Catonsville Nine is under contract with Oxford University
Press. Peters, a native of Catonsville, MD, felt that a more balanced historiographical study was required to place the trial that took place in Catonsville
into a broader cultural and religious context. Rademacher is also interested
in the social activism of Catholics, and one in particular was the focus of his
contribution. He examined the life of Catherine de Hueck Doherty as she
moved from the slums of Chicago to her spiritual retreat in Combermere,
Ontario, Canada. For this work, he mined both American and Canadian
archives and built his paper on unpublished letters between Doherty and
her spiritual director, Paul Hanley Furfey (The Catholic University of
America). Patrick J. Hayes (Redemptorist Archives of the Baltimore Province)
moderated this session.
Matthew Cressler, PhD candidate at Northwestern University and the 2011
John Tracy Ellis Dissertation Award recipient, chaired “Scandal, Resistance, and
Practice: A Roundtable on John Seitz’s No Closure (2011).” Participants

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included Brian J. Clites (PhD candidate, Northwestern University), who discussed the relationship between the clergy sex abuse crisis and the crisis of
parish closures in contemporary American Catholic life. John T. McGreevy
(University of Notre Dame) discussed the relationship between the parish as
a pivotal institution in American Catholic history and notions of Catholic
modernity. Kristy Nabhan-Warren (Augustana College) discussed the use of
ethnographic and ethno-historical methods in the study of American
Catholicism. John Seitz (Fordham University) responded to the three commentators and discussed new avenues for further research of American
Catholic life in the twenty-first century.
The Presidential Luncheon convened at noon with 2012 ACHA President
Thomas F. X. Noble (University of Notre Dame) presiding. Sixty-four members
and guests were in attendance. Cardinal Francis George, O.M.I., archbishop of
Chicago, welcomed the members of the Association to Chicago and offered
the blessing (see below for the cardinal’s invocation). Several awards were
presented during the event (for details regarding the recipients, see the section on awards in this issue). Following the luncheon, Larissa J.Taylor (Colby
College and 2011 ACHA president) delivered her presidential address,“Joan of
Arc, the Church and the Papacy, 1429–1920.”
Saturday afternoon had one session with four panels. The first panel,
“Protestant Catholicity: The Hidden Reformation of American Christian
Communities,” was chaired by James Hudnut-Beumler (Vanderbilt University).
Papers by Thomas F. Rzeznik (Seton Hall University) on “The Measure of Faith:
Religious Communities and the Culture of Assessment in Early TwentiethCentury Church Surveys,” Mark Thomas Edwards (Spring Arbor University) on
“A Higher Form of Collectivism: The Rise of Evangelical Catholicism,” and
David R. Bains (Samford University) on “Where Rome Is Right: Shaping a
Protestant Catholicism through Worship” were commented upon by Elesha
Coffman (Princeton University) and Laura R. Olson (Clemson University).
The second panel of the afternoon, “Depictions of Catholic Life on the
Silver Screen: From Italy to Hollywood,” featured Anthony B. Smith (University
of Dayton) on “Manhattan Citta Aperta: Neo-Realism, Catholicism, and
Postwar American Cinema”;Thomas Aiello (Valdosta State University) on “The
Paranoid and the Damned: Ira Levin’s Rosemary’s Baby and the Changing
Religious Culture of the 1960s”; and Debra Campbell (Colby College) on
“Sisters Have at It: Women Religious React to The Nun’s Story.” Serving as
chair and commentator for the panel was Bren A. O. Murphy (Loyola
University Chicago).
The third panel of the afternoon, “Catholicism in the City of the Big
Shoulders,” was chaired by Steven Rosswurm (Lake Forest College, IL), who
also provided commentary. Presenters included Dominic A. Pacyga (Columbia
College),“The Hardscrabble Roots of the Daley Machine: Bridgeport and the
Rise of Richard J. Daley”; Charles H. Shanabruch (St. Xavier University),

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“Edward Marciniak: Secular Christian Service”; and Timothy B. Neary, “The
People’s Bishop: Bernard J. Sheil of Chicago” (Salve Regina University).
The last panel of the afternoon, “Presidential Policy and the Catholic
Church in America from Jimmy Carter to George H.W. Bush,” was chaired by
Timothy G.Walch (director emeritus, Herbert Hoover Presidential Library), in
which all three panelists delivered substantive papers on the growing influence and role of Catholicism in American political life in the decades after
World War II. Of particular note was the discussion of the challenges faced by
Presidents Carter and Bush in eliciting support for their programs from the
leadership on the American Catholic establishment.These findings were presented by Kevin Schultz (University of Illinois at Chicago),“William F. Buckley
Jr. and the Catholic Accommodation to Free Market Capitalism”; J. Brooks
Flippen (Southeastern Oklahoma State University), “Catholicism and the
Politics of Family during the Carter Years”; and Lawrence J. McAndrews (St.
Norbert College), “Success and Setbacks of American Catholics during the
Bush Administration.”
The annual Mass for the deceased members of the Association was held on
Saturday evening with Joseph N. Perry, auxiliary bishop of Chicago, presiding.
As was the case last year, the liturgy was well attended. Following Mass, a
Social was held for members of the Association.
Sunday’s first sessions began at 8:30 am with four panels.The first panel,
“Franciscan Pioneers and Prophets in the United States” featured Jeffrey M.
Burns (Academy of American Franciscan History) on “Prophetic Franciscans
in California, 1795–1970”; Lawrence Jagdfeld, O.F.M. (Sacred Heart Province),
on “Challenges to and Accommodations by Pioneer Friars of the Sacred Heart
Province”; and James A. Gutowski (Gilmour Academy) on “Hyacinth Epp,
O.F.M. Cap., Pioneer and Prophet in Pennsylvania.” Jack Clark Robinson, O.F.M.
(Oblate School of Theology) chaired the panel, and Daniel Dwyer, O.F.M.
(Siena College) provided commentary.
For the panel “Catholic Response to Modernity,” Thomas Albert Howard
(Gordon College) presented on “Ignaz von Döllinger on the Eve of Vatican I”;
K. Aaron Van Oosterhout (Michigan State University) discussed “The Church
under Siege: Popular Conservatism and Defense of Religion in the Mexican
Reform Period, 1858–67”; and Indre Cuplinskas (St. Joseph’s College of the
University of Alberta, Canada) spoke on “Theological Sources for the
Spirituality of Specialized Catholic Action in Quebec, 1930s and 1940s.”
Thomas F. X. Noble (University of Notre Dame and 2012 ACHA president)
commented, and R. Bentley Anderson, S.J. (Fordham University and ACHA
executive secretary-treasurer) served as chair of the panel.
The panel titled “Martin Luther in His Catholic Context: Some New
Research” found David Luy (Marquette University) discussing “Martin Luther
on the Metaphysics of the Incarnation: Medieval or Modern?,” Christopher

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Samuel (Marquette University) presenting on “‘Heavenly Princes’ and
‘Superior Servants’: Angels in the Sermons of Martin Luther,” and Charles L.
Cortright (Wisconsin Lutheran College) speaking on “Medieval and Catholic
Continuities in Martin Luther’s Understanding of the Human Body.”The panel
was chaired by Brad S. Gregory (University of Notre Dame), and the commentator was Ron Rittgers (Valparaiso University).
“Looking at the Face of European Catholicism from North American
Eyes,” the fourth panel of the morning, found Charles Keenan (Northwestern
University) focusing on the dimensions of ecclesiastical reform by a faction
of cardinals in the sixteenth century in “Right to Reform: Cardinals, Popes,
and the Schismatic Council of Pisa, 1511.” Next, Sean P. Phillips (University of
Notre Dame) presented “‘But Sin Maketh Nations Miserable’: Usury,
Catholicism, and the Political Economy in Early Nineteenth-Century France.”
This was followed by J. Casey Hammond (Singapore University of
Technology and Design), who presented “‘The Need for a Body that
Strengthens our Vocation’:An Episode of Laity Seeking Lives of Perfection in
Fascist Italy,” which explored the intensely spiritual, but apolitical, activities
of the Pio Sodalizio dei Missionari della Regalità di Cristo. Finally, Sarah
Shortall (Harvard University) presented “Dueling Modernisms: Henri de
Lubac and the Interwar Critique of Neo-Thomism.” Barton E. Price (Grand
Valley State University) chaired. The panel entertained a lively discussion,
which focused on the panel’s theme of viewing European history with North
American interpretations.
The second and final session of the conference had three panels of interest. First,“The American Catholic Church and the ‘Problem’ of Immigration in
the Twentieth Century,” had three presenters: Grainne F. McEvoy (Boston
College), “A ‘Constructive’ Immigration Policy: American Catholic Social
Critics and Immigration Restriction, 1916–29”; Maggie J. Elmore (University of
California, Berkeley), “Segregating Sacred Space: Mexican American
Catholicism in Northwest Texas, 1924–36”; and Todd Scribner (The Catholic
University of America),“‘Not Because They Are Catholic, but Because We Are
Catholic’: The Bishops’ Engagement with Immigration in Twentieth-Century
America.”Maddalena Marinari (St. Bonaventure University) served as chair and
commentator.
The penultimate panel, “De-Centering Old Stories: Where Was North
American Catholicism Born?”, was composed of Guillaume Teasdale
(University of Ottawa), speaking on “Trans-Atlantic and Cross-Border
Catholicism: The French Parishes of the Detroit River Region before the
1830s”; Eric Desautels (Concordia University, Montreal), speaking on “Keeping
in Touch with National Heroes: The French Canadian Missionaries, Their
Journals, and the Deconfessionalization Process, 1920–80”; Catherine
O’Donnell (Arizona State University), speaking on “Loretto, Pennsylvania as an
Experimental Catholic Community”; and Tangi Villerbu (University of La
Rochelle), speaking on “Vincennes, 1804–23: ‘Marguilliers,’ French

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Missionaries, and the New Nation.”Kent Wright (Arizona State University) provided commentary, noting that the panel papers complemented each other
very well as they presented the French, Russian, Spanish, and Old World
Europeans in general and contributed to the development of Catholicism in
North America. A lively question-and-answer period followed. As Villerbu
remarked, this may have been the most “French” session at the ACHA, given
the participation of three native speakers of French and two other fellow
travelers.
Finally, panelists of “Tensions within the North American Church” presented local, regional, national, and international case studies that focused on
tensions facing the Church in the twentieth century. Alvah Green III
(University of New Orleans) focused on the issue of parish closings in
post–Katrina New Orleans, in “Fighting Spirit: New Orleans’ St. Henry’s 160Year Long Effort to Survive, 1856–2007.” Seth Smith (The Catholic University
of America), in “Implementing Vatican II Outside of the ‘Ghetto’: A
Comparison of Two Isolated, Southern Parishes,” took a regional approach to
conflict within American Roman Catholicism in the postconciliar era. In
“Sectarian or Sanctifying: John Hugo and the Historiography of Catholic
Radicalism,” Benjamin Peters (Saint Joseph College) delved into the conundrum of prophetic witness within a triumphant ecclesiology. Peter E. Baltutis
(St. Michael’s College in the University of Toronto and Presidential Graduate
Fellowship recipient) pursued dual approaches to the question of charity and
justice within the Canadian context in “Creative Tension between the Laity
and the Institutional Church: Development and Peace, Cardinal Carter of
Toronto, and the ‘1982 Funding Crisis.’” While R. Bentley Anderson, S.J.
(Fordham University) chaired the session, the audience provided a lively
exchange with the panelists, serving as the commentator.
This was one of the largest annual meetings in terms of panels, papers, and
participants. More than 150 individuals registered for the conference, ninety
papers were presented, and thirty panels were organized.
The next meeting of the Association took place in New Orleans on March
22–25, 2012, on the campuses of Loyola University and Tulane University.The
ACHA will return to New Orleans in January 2013 for its ninety-third annual
meeting.
R. BENTLEY ANDERSON, S.J.
Executive Secretary and Treasurer
2012 ACHA Presidential Luncheon Invocation
by Cardinal Francis George, O.M.I., Archbishop of Chicago
Thank you for the invitation to speak and pray with you today. I am truly
pleased to join you and to welcome you to the Archdiocese of Chicago. I
thank in particular Ellen Skerrett and Larissa Juliet Taylor for the invitation to
offer the invocation and say a few words.

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G. K. Chesterton wrote, “We cannot be certain of being right about the
future; but we can be almost certain of being wrong about the future, if we
are wrong about the past.”1 The Church carries the past in the tradition that
unites us to Christ.And she carries with that living tradition a long historical
memory. Both the tradition and the history that provides its context make the
Church an original voice in every age and every society.The rigorous and conscientious study of the past ensures that history will not be manipulated by
purposes foreign to it in the present. History relativizes the present, freeing
us from the solipsism of the present moment and also permitting us to welcome the future, even though it will separate us from what we are accustomed to now. Where the vision of faith informs the study of history, everything temporal is relativized in the light of eternity; in the end, history is what
God remembers.
It is harder to avoid the clichés of the present when information or commentaries spread at lightning speed without regard to context or perspective, without analysis or interpretation.Your work, for which we are all grateful, gives others the tools needed to analyze the present in a more
responsible way.“Thinking outside the box” is a formula for imagining a different future, freeing us from present predicaments. But it seems to me that
thinking outside the present box is less necessary if, with the help of history,
the box is already large enough to hold in memory the capacities of human
achievement.
Pope Benedict XVI, in Caritas in Veritate, wrote,“The earthly city is promoted not merely by relationships of rights and duties, but to an even greater
and more fundamental extent by relationships of gratuitousness, mercy and
communion.”As you know, the pope has spoken often of “an ecology of the
human spirit,” the network of relationships that tell us who we are from age
to age. Christianity is a spirituality, but one that is historical and communal. It
is not spirituality as an individual quest, as spirituality is often presented
today. It is a spirituality that does not isolate anyone in his or her own experience but relates the believer to God and to everyone and everything God
loves. It gives us a place to stand in history while transcending it and encourages study to achieve truth in as comprehensive a manner as possible. The
pursuit of truth, as you know, is not always a popular quest, because many
now believe that objective truth is the enemy of subjective freedom.
This year marks the fiftieth anniversary of the beginning of the Second
Vatican Council. The motivation of Pope John XXIII, set out in Humanae
salutis, the document that convoked the Council’s preparation, was to use
the unity of the Church to bind up the wounds of a divided world. The
Council was missionary in its intent, aiming to introduce the world to its
savior in a new age and to open the Church to more intensive dialogue with
1

G. K. Chesterton, What I Saw in America (New York, 1922), p. 285.

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the world saved by Christ. Pope John wanted the human race to become a
human family and, more, the family of God, his people. Today, the world is
uniting for many of the reasons spelled out in Gaudium et Spes fifty years
ago, but it is not always uniting in ways that foster the common good of
humanity. What the Church continues to ask for fifty years after Vatican II is
not privilege but simply the possibility of speaking freely, knowing that her
own categories of understanding, grounded as they are in faith, will always
contain a call to conversion that prevents her from becoming chaplain to the
status quo.
Today you are honoring a man and a woman whose work ensures that the
stories of the Catholics of the Archdiocese of Chicago will be heard for years
to come. On behalf of the Archdiocese of Chicago, I would like to congratulate all those who are being recognized today for their contributions, but particularly Ellen Skerrett and Jac Treanor, the vice chancellor of the Archdiocese
for Archives and Records.We are indebted to Jac for his vision, his insight, his
leadership, and his very hard work over the past twenty-five years in making
the Archdiocesan Archives and Records Center a premier repository and one
of the world’s largest collections of archdiocesan archival materials. It is a
treasure not only to historians but also to all the faithful today and will continue to be so for generations to come.
As you know well, the history of the Catholic Church in this Archdiocese
is closely tied to the history of Chicago and the surrounding metropolitan
area.We were here before Chicago came to exist. I would be remiss if I didn’t
note that Ellen Skerrett was instrumental in researching and editing the excellent two-volume History of the Parishes of the Archdiocese of Chicago
(Chicago, 1980), published in observance of the centenary of the Archdiocese
of Chicago. In the foreword my predecessor, Cardinal John Cody, quotes from
Pope John Paul II’s homily to people gathered in Grant Park for the papal
Mass on October 5, 1979. His words dovetail neatly with the conference’s
theme. In closing, I share them with you:
Your ancestors came from many different countries across the oceans to
meet here with the people of different communities that were already
established here. In every generation, the process has been repeated: new
groups arrive, each one with a different history, to settle here and become
part of something new. . . . E pluribus unum: you became a new entity, a
new people, the true nature of which cannot be adequately explained as
a mere putting together of various communities.
And so, looking at you, I see people who have thrown their destinies
together and now write a common history. Different as you are, you have
come to accept each other, at times imperfectly and even to the point of
subjecting each other to various forms of discrimination; at times only
after a long period of misunderstanding and rejection; even now still growing in understanding and appreciation of each other’s differences. In

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expressing gratitude for the many blessings you have received, you also
become aware of the duty you have towards the less favored in your own
midst and in the rest of the world—a duty of sharing, of living, of serving.
As a people, you recognize God as the source of your many blessings, and
you are open to His love and His law.
Let us pray together:
Almighty and ever-living God,
You created us and endowed us with knowledge, wisdom and initiative
so we might cooperate with you in building a just society and a peaceful world.
In your wise providence, you bless all human endeavor;
Grant us the fortitude to use your gifts wisely:
to face challenges with perseverance and fairness,
to solve problems with creativity and trust,
to bring your healing love to a broken world.
Bless those gathered here for the American Catholic Historical
Association’s Conference and others who have come for the larger meeting as well.
May the time spent together and the values held in common be a source
of renewal of spirit.
May efforts to highlight the depth, the breadth and the influence of
“Communities and Networks” engender hope for the future.
May each of us rejoice in the goodness of your creation and the truth of
your Word in our worship and work, in our communities, in our lives, in all
our relationships.
God of mercy and love, fill us all with your grace so that we may love you
more deeply,serve others more generously and strive always for what is
right and good.
Bless the food we are about to eat, those who prepared it and those who
will serve it.
By the incarnation of your Son, you gathered all things in heaven and on
earth into unity.
Fill our hearts with joy, hope and peace today and throughout the year to
come, through Christ our Lord.Amen.

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Report of the Committee on Nominations
At the General Meeting of the Association, Kathleen Sprows Cummings
(University of Notre Dame), chair of the Nominating Committee, reported and
certified that the following individuals had been elected to office this past
fall. To the office of the vice-president: Margaret M. McGuinness, La Salle
University; to the Executive Council, the following three individuals were
elected: Charles R. Gallagher, S.J., Boston College (to serve the unexpired term
of R. Bentley Anderson, S.J., Fordham University) for the term 2011–14;
Suzanne Brown-Fleming, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum,
Washington, DC, for the term 2012–15; and Leigh Anne Craig, Virginia
Commonwealth University, for the term 2012–15. And for a position on the
Committee on Nominations, Una Cadegan, University of Dayton.
Report of the Committee on Distinguished Award Recipients
The ACHA awards for lifetime scholarship, excellence in teaching, and
service to Catholic studies were presented at the Presidential Luncheon on
Saturday, January 7, 2012.
John O’Malley, S.J. (university professor, Georgetown University), was this
year’s recipient of the ACHA Lifetime Distinguished Scholarship Award for his
sustained contribution to our understanding of Catholic history. This award
was given not for any single piece of scholarship; rather, it was awarded for a
sustained series of works that O’Malley had produced that had animated and
influenced the discipline and those who follow it.As one who nominated him
stated:
John’s scholarship represents a tremendous service to the Catholic Church. He
has taught those within and without to see it not as a timeless monolith, but as
a vast and dynamic community whose changes and continuities deserve consideration and respect. His scholarship demonstrates his abiding commitment
to the Church.

O’Malley has toiled in the field of Catholic history for more than forty
years, producing such seminal works as The First Jesuits (Cambridge, MA,
1985) and What Happened at Vatican II (Cambridge, MA, 2008). But just as
important, he has given of his time to help form generations of new scholars
interested in the dynamic nature of Christianity. Stated one of his former students, O’Malley “is not simply a great scholar . . . more important, [he is] a great
friend of scholars.”
Angelyn Dries, O.S.F. (professor emerita, Saint Louis University), received
the ACHA’s Excellence in Teaching Award for an outstanding career as
teacher, mentor, and friend to numerous young scholars. Dries was recognized
for her commitment to educating and developing not just the mind but also
the spirit of her students. In doing so, she has modeled what a true teacher is:

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instructor, guide, inspiration. As a scholar and teacher of American missiology,
Dries has challenged her students to envision U.S. Catholicism from various
perspectives, including cross-cultural experiences seen through the eyes of
women, the poor, and migrants. In doing so, she has exposed young scholars
to new ways of understanding the Christian world; more important, she has
trained the next generation of teachers to think beyond the conventional. As
one of her students wrote:
She has treated me with the utmost respect, in many ways like the very figures
that she studies, as persons with multifaceted lives whose value can surface in
unexpected ways. Angelyn has an inestimable gift for connecting people and
looking positively toward future possibilities that will remain a permanent
legacy among her students.

John “Jac” Treanor (archivist, Archdiocese of Chicago) was this year’s
Service to Catholic Studies Award recipient for his contribution to the promotion of Catholic studies beyond the arena of the classroom or publishing
field. For some three decades,Treanor has been a national leader in the professionalization of church archives in the United States. A founder and officer
of the Association of Catholic Diocesan Archivists,Treanor has provided critical leadership and guidance to many dioceses and religious orders in the
United States seeking to upgrade and improve the quality and accessibility of
church archives. He is an archivist’s archivist. As Jimmy M. Lago, chancellor of
the Archdiocese of Chicago, has noted:
Jac is an outstanding advocate for an understanding of church history and
records as the footprints of the Holy Spirit, demonstrating sacred interventions
in this local church to those who would see. . . . The Archdiocese of Chicago is
privileged to have such a talented and committed leader as Jac Treanor.

LARISSA J.TAYLOR, Chair
Colby College
Report of the Committee on the John Gilmary Shea Prize
Ulrich L. Lehner (assistant professor and associate director of undergraduate studies, Marquette University) received the John Gilmary Shea Prize for
his monograph Enlightened Monks: The German Benedictines, 1740–1803
(New York, 2011). Lehner’s remarkable book adopts the notion of an eighteenth-century religious enlightenment to argue that a large number of
German Benedictines in southern and middle Germany (as well as Austria
and Switzerland) responded to the unprecedented challenges of the period
by promoting enlightened thought and attitudes that steered between the
extremes of secularism and reactionary Catholicism.The book demonstrates
in surprising new ways how eighteenth-century Benedictines of the Catholic
Enlightenment engaged with all branches of contemporary academic study
while accommodating the monastic life with modernizing trends in European

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society. Engagingly written, deeply researched, and seriously engaged with
current research, Lehner’s work demonstrates that the Enlightenment was far
more than a secular movement pitted against an obscurantist religious outlook. It was, rather, a multifaceted trend to reconcile science and reason with
matters of faith. Enlightened Monks illustrates how, paradoxically, an institution known most as a relic of the medieval past actually stood on the front
lines of this endeavor.
KATHERINE L. JANSEN, Chair
The Catholic University of America
Report of the Committee on the Howard R. Marraro Prize
Stefania Tutino (professor in the Department of History and associate professor in the Department of Religious Studies at University of California, Santa
Barbara) has garnered the Howard R. Marraro Prize for Empire of Souls:
Robert Bellarmine and the Christian Commonwealth (New York, 2010). In
this meticulously researched volume,Tutino rescues the Jesuit saint and cardinal Robert Bellarmine from the box in which he has been placed—censor,
inquisitor, opponent of Galileo—and sets him in the context of a confessionalized Europe of developing temporal states over which, according to
Bellarmine’s theory of potestas indirecta (“indirect power”), the church exercises spiritual hegemony—thus empowering the pope, as emperor of souls,
to intervene at will.
SHARON STROCCHIA, Chair
Emory University
The Report of the Committee on the
John Tracy Ellis Dissertation Award
Matthew Cressler (PhD candidate, Northwestern University) received the
John Tracy Ellis Award for best dissertation written in 2011:“To Be Black and
Catholic: African American Catholics in Chicago from Postwar Migrations to
Black Power.” Members of the committee were especially impressed by the
richness of his topic, which blended a Chicago-based micro-history with a reevaluation of African American Catholicism.They also applauded the clarity of
his research presentation, which impressively conveyed its vitality.
LEZLIE KNOX, Chair
Marquette University
The Peter Guilday Prize
The Peter Guilday Prize for 2011 goes to Helena Dawes (University of
Western Australia) for her article “The Catholic Church and the Woman
Question: Catholic Feminism in Italy in the Early 1900s” that appeared in the
July issue (XCII, no. 3, pp. 484–526) of The Catholic Historical Review. Based

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on an extensive use of relevant secondary literature that places the issue in
the context of Italian politics and culture and on a close reading of the contemporary newspapers and journals, but especially of the collection of personal papers of Adelaide Coari (1881–1966) housed at the Fondazione per le
Scienze Religiose Giovanni XXIII in Bologna, Dawes’s study tells the fascinating story of an emerging Catholic feminist movement that was crushed by an
alliance of upper-class Catholic women with ecclesiastical authorities fearful
of possible modernist influences.
The principal antagonists of the story are Adelaide Coari, a schoolteacher
turned secretary and editor, and her protector and patron, Giacomo Maria
Radini Tedeschi, the social activist bishop of Bergamo (1904–14) who advocated more rights for women to re-Christianize Italian society. They were
opposed by the Veronese countess Elena da Persico (1869–1948) and Pope
Pius X (r. 1903–14), who held traditional Augustinian and Thomistic views of
women as misbegotten males with flawed rational faculties who held the
primary role of propagating and caring for children and serving men. When
the Contessa da Persico and her ally, the priest Francesco Mariani, forced the
resignation of the progressive Maria Baldo Maggioni as editor of the periodical L’azione muliebre, Coari left the journal where she had served as secretary and founded a new journal, Pensiero e azione.
From 1904 to 1908 this journal became the mouthpiece of middle- and
working-class Catholic women and the organ of the Milanese branch of the
Christian Democracy movement. It backed workers’ rights and women’s suffrage and entered into dialogue with secular feminists. Against the advice of
Pius X, Coari attended the First National Congress of Italian Women meeting
in Rome in April 1908. When her motion to promote instruction in
Catholicism in primary schools was voted down, the congress “unanimously”
voted for religious neutrality in primary schools. Conservative Catholics
launched a campaign against Pensiero e azione as a “nest of heretics” infected
with modernist ideas. Despite his earlier support for the periodical, Andrea
Carlo Ferrari, the archbishop of Milan (1894–1921) accused of modernist
tendencies, was pressured to suppress the periodical in July 1908.
With balance and objectivity, Dawes documents the efforts of Baldo and
Coari to promote their cause without rousing the ire of conservatives and
reveals the strategies used by their opponents to suppress their efforts to
obtain for women better employment as well as educational, social, and legal
rights. As such, this article is a significant contribution to the literature on
Catholicism in Italy at the beginning of the last century and merits the Peter
Guilday Prize of the American Catholic Historical Association.
NELSON H. MINNICH, Editor
ROBERT TRISCO, Acting Editor

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2011 and 2012 ACHA Presidential Graduate Fellowships
The second set of Presidential Graduate Fellowships—instituted to assist
graduate students who wish to travel to ACHA meetings to present papers—
was awarded to Molly Gallaher and Erin Bartram to participate in ACHA’s
2011 joint spring conference with the Canadian Catholic Historical
Association in Toronto. Gallaher is working on her PhD at the University of
New Hampshire on “Canadian Borderlands and French-Speaking Catholics in
the Nineteenth and Early-Twentieth-Century Saint John River Valley.”Bartram’s
PhD work at the University of Connecticut focuses on “Jane Minot Sedgwick
II and the World of American Catholic Converts, 1820–1890.”
For the 2012 ACHA annual meeting held in Chicago, the ACHA awarded its
third set of Presidential Graduate Fellowships to Peter Baltutis, a PhD candidate at the University of Toronto, and Catherine Osborne, a PhD candidate at
Fordham University. Baltutis delivered the paper “Development and Peace:
Cardinal Carter of Toronto and the 1982 Funding Crisis,” whereas Osborne
presented on “Lay Patrons of Church Architecture in Twentieth-Century
American Catholicism.”
Report of the President
In my year as president, I oversaw the transition of the executive secretary and treasurer position from The Catholic University of America to
Fordham University. R. Bentley Anderson, S.J., the ACHA’s new executive secretary and treasurer, was able to provide from his dean and president offers
of support that far exceeded what CUA had provided. In view of increasing
financial difficulties facing the ACHA, the move was both necessary and forward-looking in that we now can provide at less cost the basic operations of
the association. Anderson has been instrumental in this change, taking
charge de facto on July 1, to the degree he could, and officially on October
1. Numerous challenges occurred during the transition, not least of which
was obtaining an accurate accounting of membership numbers. Our commitment to transparency and working together with our members to make
this a vibrant and forward-looking association has been a key goal of my presidency, but one that will continue. I thank Anderson for his willingness and
commitment to serve.
My presidency was a time of transition in other respects as well, all based
on the incredible work of Steven Avella (Marquette University), my predecessor, who made clear to me that neither the presidency nor any other position
in the ACHA is honorific. Every position carries responsibilities that all nominees must expect to assume if elected. I was fortunate in having such a wonderful mentor in helping me—and the Association—make the transition to
the twenty-first-century world, which means largely online development.
During this time, the Web site has evolved, not without glitches, but we hope
to have all of that fixed very soon.

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I feel my most important contribution was my vision of the presidency
and vice-presidency as positions of teamwork with an active Executive
Council.Too often in the past, people have been elected but not necessarily
served in their various positions.When I first met with the Executive Council
in January and April 2011, we bonded as a unit, dedicated to furthering the
future of the ACHA. Active commitment to service to the association must
always be a foremost consideration when anyone is nominated for a position.
I know that the future will be in good hands. Thomas F. X. Noble, the
ACHA’s new president, is dedicated to continuing the work of transition, as is
the new vice president and president-elect, Margaret M. McGuinness. Our
new and continuing Executive Council members are determined to create an
association of which all members can be proud to be a part. Developing the
Web site further, attracting new members, and continuing the work of funding Presidential Graduate Fellowships and Presidential Awards is an essential
part of our future, and I ask all of you to be part of it.
We had an unusually large and well-attended set of panels at Chicago in
2012, and I would especially like to thank program committee members Ellen
Skerrett (Jane Addams Papers Project) and Malachy R. McCarthy (Claretians
Missionaries Archives USA) for their incredible work in making this a great
year of sessions for the ACHA. We have work to do, but we are making huge
advances.
Many thanks to all of you for your support over the past year, and I look
forward to working with you in the future.
LARISSA JULIET TAYLOR
Colby College
Report of the Secretary and Treasurer
Membership. At the end of 2011, the Association had 579 active members,
of whom 344 were ordinary members, 94 were retired members, 76 were student members, and 65 were lifetime members (individuals and institutions).
The Association can also report that there were 360 lapsed or expired members recorded for 2011. Under the ACHA Constitution, the official membership number is the total of all members, including the expired ones, which
would bring the total to 939. With the changes made to the Constitution in
Chicago, the official membership count for 2012 will consist only of active
members.
Transition. As of October 1, 2011, the headquarters of the American
Catholic Historical Association are located on the campus of Fordham
University in the Bronx, New York City. The move was not without its challenges, as the transfer of records and other ACHA material was time-consuming. This move, nevertheless, was necessary to the financial health and wellbeing of the Association and for the long-term vitality of the organization.

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Fordham University has been quite generous in terms of financial and staff
support.We hope the relationship between the two institutions is long-term.
Web Site. The ACHA has committed a considerable amount of its financial
resources to bring the organization into the twenty-first century. Part of that
initiative is exploiting the various ways the Internet can promote work of the
Association. The 2011 officer elections were conducted online, the 2012
annual program was available on the Web site, and the annual ACHA awardees
were announced via the Web.This is the future of the Association.
Finances. Given the transition of office in October, the financial report is
a partial one. Based on the ACHA membership and its various categories, dues
generated $26,680 this year. This figure is based on 344 regular members
paying $60 a year ($20,640), 94 retired members contributing $40 ($3760),
and 76 students contributing $30 ($2280).The Association paid The Catholic
University of America Press $27,792 for 579 copies of The Catholic Historical
Review (this figure is based on total membership, including lifetime members—579 ⫻ $12 an issue ⫻ four issues a year for a total of $27,792). The
deficit spending on the CHR was $1112.
As of January 4, 2012, the endowment, which is overseen by David
Canham of Deutsche Bank, stood at $889,268.77. All of the ACHA investments
have been consolidated into a single account at Deutsche Bank, as the T. Price
and Vanguard portfolios were closed. During calendar year 2011, the investment portfolio had a time-weighed return of –2.07 percent. The uncertainty
of the global economy and the stock market could adversely impact the value
and returns of the ACHA’s investments for the foreseeable future. In 2010 the
Association ran a deficit of more than $35,000; because the transition has
made it very difficult for me to produce an accurate financial report for 2011,
I cannot state with any certainty the deficit for this past year. I hope to do so
by our annual meeting in January 2013. Because the Association continues to
draw from both the interest and the principal of its investments, I predict,
unfortunately, that deficit spending will again be in the neighborhood of
$20,000–$30,000. Although the move to New York City will reduce the
ACHA’s staff expenditures in 2012 by $19,000, the Association does not generate enough revenue from its membership dues to cover all expenses. Use of
the secretary and treasurer’s stipend to cover some expenses will help lower
the ACHA’s deficit spending, but that is a short-term solution to a long-term
problem. Green initiatives—that is, online voting, Web postings, electronic
messaging, and so forth—will also result in savings by reducing postage and
handling fees, but that will not be enough to close the gap between income
and expenditures.The officers, the Executive Council, and I will continue to
explore ways to reduce expenses and raise revenue.
The Executive Council approved the proposed budget for 2012 of $70,000
for the following expenses:

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$27,800
$12,000
$9,000
$3,750
$2,500
$2,500
$2,500
$2,000
$2,000
$1,500
$1,200
$1,000
$750
$750
$650
$100

The Catholic Historical Review (579 ⫻ $12 issue ⫻ 4
issues, plus extras)
Stipend for the Executive Secretary and Treasurer
Salary for Webmaster
Annual meeting (printing costs, social,AV support,
complimentary luncheons)
Electronic software updates
Printing and postage
Accounting expenses (e.g., filing 990 form)
Presidential Graduate Fellowships (4 ⫻ $500)
Miscellaneous
Travel stipend for the Executive Secretary and Treasurer
John Tracy Ellis Prize
Plaques for recipients—lifetime scholarship, excellence in
teaching, service to Catholic studies
Howard R. Marraro Prize
John Gilmary Shea Prize
Online voting
Peter Guilday Prize

2011 Financial Statement. The only way the Association was able to meet
its expenses was to withdraw interest accrued from the portfolio, which, as
noted above, had a time-weighed return of –2.07 percent this year.
Income:
Dues
Interest withdrawals:
Donations:
Expenses:
$27,800
$19,000
$12,000
$9,000
$2,750
$2,500
$2,400
$2,000
$2,000
$1,500
$1,200
$500
$500
$750
$750

$85,660
$26,680
$57,480
$ 1,500

$85,660
The Catholic Historical Review (579 ⫻ $12 issue
⫻ 4 issues)
Salary for secretarial support at ACHA-CUA
Stipend for the Executive Secretary and Treasurer
Salary for the Webmaster
Annual meeting (printing costs, social,AV support,
complimentary luncheons)
Electronic software updates
Printing and postage
Presidential Graduate Fellowships (4 x $500)
Accountant expense (e.g., filing 990 Form)
Travel stipend for the Executive Secretary and Treasurer
John Tracy Ellis Prize
Transition expenses (office supplies, stationery)
Annual appeal expenses (postage and printing)
Howard R. Marraro Prize
John Gilmary Shea Prize

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$600
$310
$100

323

Online voting
Plaques for recipients—lifetime scholarship, excellence
in teaching, service to Catholic studies
Peter Guilday Prize

Printing, Publishing, and Postage. For members who do not wish to
receive electronic messages, programs, or ballots, the Association has to
charge for paper services. Beginning June 1, 2012, new and renewing members who wish to receive printed material from the Association will be
assessed an additional fee of $10 per year.This fee increase was approved by
the Executive Council in Chicago. The Executive Council and the general
membership also approved a shift to paperless programming. Beginning with
the 2013 New Orleans meeting, members will access the program electronically via the ACHA Web site. For those individuals preregistering for the New
Orleans meeting, a printed program will be provided.
Constitutional Changes. The following changes to the Constitution and
Bylaws of the ACHA are necessary to reflect the move to Fordham University,
the need for more accurate accounting of members, and the desire to have
more effective participation by members of the Executive Council and its
committee members.
Please note that, according to Article X, the Constitution can be changed
by a two-thirds majority vote at a business meeting, provided the proposed
change has been approved by the Executive Council and distributed to the
membership. According to Article VI of the Bylaws, the Bylaws of the ACHA
Constitution can be amended by the Executive Council at any regular meeting of the council. In Chicago, the Executive Council and the general membership at the Business Meeting approved the following changes.
Changes to the Bylaws
8a. Strike Bylaws I.3.b., which reads:“…, hire in conjunction with the
editor of the Catholic Historical Review, and supervise the office secretary and any student or part-time help” (Action item)
Rationale: The ACHA headquarters have moved, and the office is configured to the needs of the new host institution.
8b. Strike I.3.h: “. . . for the annual meeting for printing in folder
form . . . prepare the other materials to be enclosed with the printed
program, and oversee the mailing of the ballot, which he receives
from the chairman of the Nominating Committee.”
Rationale: As noted above, the Association is reducing the amount of
printed material that has to be mailed to members. Electronic copies of ACHA
material will be provided to members in a timely fashion, including balloting
information and program material.

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8d. Strike Bylaws, Article V: “the Catholic University of America in
Washington, D.C.” Replace with “Fordham University in New York City,
New York.”
Changes to the Constitution
8e. Strike Article III.3: “Members whose dues are in arrears more
than twelve months shall have their names dropped from the membership rolls of the Association.”
Rationale:This form of accounting is misleading and allows for membership inflation. A nonpaying member is counted as a “member in good standing” for one year after his or her membership has expired; however, financially, this individual is not contributing to the organization.A realistic budget
cannot be constructed based on this system.
8f. Strike Article VII.2:“There shall be a Nominating Committee consisting of three persons, one of whom shall be elected each year for
a term of three years. The Committee shall make nominations for the
Vice-Presidency, the Executive Council, and the Nominating
Committee as provided for in the Constitutions and Bylaws, which
nominations shall be submitted to the membership to determine the
election. Active members may propose other candidates in accord
with procedures outlined in the Bylaws.”
Replace with: “Elections Board. There shall be an Elections Board
compoed of five members: a Convener and four Elections Officials
(EO), who shall oversee the nomination and election processes of all
elected offices as prescribed in the Constitution and Bylaws.”
“Officers of the Elections Board. The Convener of the Elections
Board (EBC) is elected by the general membership for a three-year
term and serves as chair at the Elections Board meetings. By virtue
of office, the vice-president and the secretary of the ACHA are
Elections Officials. The two remaining EO positions will be filled
by a second-year and third-year member of the Executive Council
(EC), serving a two-year and one-year term, respectively. The EC
members will be appointed by the president in consultation with
the voting members of the Executive Board.”
[The exception to the explanation provided above concerns the first
Convener of the new Elections Board.]
“The President shall appoint the first Convener to serve a threeyear term. Upon completion of that individual’s term in office, the
regular election process will be followed (i.e., the Convener will
be elected by the general membership of the Association). Former

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325

members of the Nominating Committee are not eligible to run for
this office.”
8.g. Add [bold] to Article V.3: An at-large member elected to complete an
unexpired term may be re-elected to a full term immediately if serving less
than a majority of the unexpired term.
Rationale: It is quite possible that an individual could serve more than five
years on the Executive Council under the present system.
8.h. Strike Article V.4: “Elections shall be held each year sixty days
before the annual meeting and shall be certified by the Nominating
Committee no later than the annual meeting. Newly elected officers
and members of the Executive Committee should be notified in time
for them to attend the regular meeting of the Executive Council with
voice but not vote.”
Replace with:“Elections shall be held no earlier than one-hundred
and twenty days before the annual meeting and no later than ninety
days. Results shall be certified by the Elections Board within one
week of the conclusion of balloting.”
8.i. Strike Article V.6: “All changes in officers and members of the
Executive Council and committees take effect at the end of the annual
meeting.”
Replace with: “The presidential and vice-presidential terms end at
the conclusion of the annual Executive Council meeting. Members of
the Executive Council take office one week after election results are
announced and certified by the Elections Board and the Executive
Secretary of the Association. Committee assignments terminate at the
conclusion of the annual meeting.”
Rationale:The terms of office for ACHA officials are confusing.According
to the present Constitution, newly elected Executive Council members have
to wait one year after being elected to be effective participants in the EC.The
presidential term is not affected by the new wording—just clarified.The same
is true of committee assignments.
8.j. Strike VI.2:“Not less than sixty days prior to the annual meeting
the Executive Secretary shall mail to each member of the Association
notice of such meeting with a copy of the program.”
Change to read: “An electronic version of the annual meeting program will be posted on the ACHA Web site and made available to all
members once the Program Committee has approved and finalized
all proposals and panels.”

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Rationale:The cost of printing and postage is rising.We have the electronic
means to communicate with all but 10 percent of the total membership. To
print and ship the annual program for 2012 only cost approximately $1200.
Recommended Change to the Bylaws
8.k. Strike Article II.1: Committee on Nominations (see Constitutions VII, 2.).
Replace with: II.1 Elections Board (see Constitutions, VII. 2).
Conducting Elections. Beginning no later than April of each year, the
Convener of the Elections Board and the Elections Officials will begin
the process of identifying potential candidates for all elected ACHA
offices. Ideally candidates should be drawn from ACHA members in
good standing; active members may propose candidates to the
Elections Board. Once identified, the potential nominee is to be contacted, asking if he/she is willing to run for office. At that time, the
potential candidate must be informed of the duties and responsibilities of office.
By mid-June, the Convener will inform each candidate that he/she
is to submit a vision statement, CV, and current photograph by the
end of July. If the material is not provided in a timely fashion, the
EBC may, in consultation with fellow board members, replace the
candidate.
In mid-August, the Convener of the Elections Board will provide
the ACHA Webmaster with the list of candidates for office, their
vision statements, their CVs, and photos. This information should
be posted on the ACHA Web site the last week in August. The general membership should be informed of this development.
After Labor Day, the EBC will ensure that the general membership
is contacted regarding the election process.
Online voting will begin no later than September 15th and conclude fourteen days later.
For those requesting paper ballots, the EBC will ensure that that
material is sent out by the first week in September. Return ballots
must be postmarked by September 22nd.
Officers of the Elections Board will certify the returns within one
week after the ballots have been tallied. A certification message
should be sent to the EC immediately, and the EBC will notify the
candidates of the results.
8.l. Strike I.3.k., which reads: “k. offer suggestions of candidates to the
Committee on Nominations and answer questions about the eligibility or past
service of individuals being considered.”

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Rationale: Creation of an Elections Board warrants the change.
ACHA Internship Program. Beginning in 2012, the Association will begin
an internship program in cooperation with the Curran Center for American
Catholic Studies at Fordham University. Funding for this program is provided
by the Office of the Provost, Fordham University, and the executive secretary
and treasurer of the ACHA. Eventually there will be three undergraduate
ACHA interns in any given academic year.This initiative will give future historians the opportunity to learn how to operate a nonprofit, scholarly enterprise as well as will augment an effective ACHA administration in the twentyfirst century.
R. BENTLEY ANDERSON, S.J.
Secretary and Treasurer
Fordham University
Editor’s Report
Volume XCVII (2011) consisted of 958 pages. It published twelve articles,
one essay in the series Journeys in Church History, two miscellanies, two
review articles, 263 book reviews, and six brief notices.
The twelve articles were distributed as follows: two medieval, three early
modern, three late modern, and four American. Of the twelve articles, five
authors came from outside the United States (one from Australia, one from
Belgium, two from France, and one from Portugal). Subsidies allowed five
authors to exceed the page limits.
The book reviews were distributed among the following areas: general and
miscellaneous (thirty), ancient (nineteen), medieval (fifty-six), early modern
(sixty-one), late modern (forty-six), American (twenty-seven), Latin American
(thirteen), Canadian (one), Far Eastern and Australian (nine), and African
(one).The authors of the book reviews came from institution in the following
countries: the United States (178 or 67.5 percent); United Kingdom (thirty or
11 percent); Canada (eighteen or 7 percent); Ireland (nine or 3 percent); Italy
(six or 2 percent) and Germany (four or 1.5 percent). The remaining 8 percent came from Australia (three); Belgium, China, the Philippines, Slovenia,
and Switzerland (two each); and Finland, France, Israel, Mexico, and Puerto
Rico (one each). One of the review articles was by an author from a Canadian
institution.
As the tables below reveal, the editors dealt with seventy-eight articles. Of
the forty-six articles on hand from the previous year, eleven were published
in 2011, twelve were accepted for publication, fourteen await a response
from the author to the critiques of the referees, seven were abandoned, one
withdrawn, and one rejected. Of the thirty-two submitted in 2011, one was
published, one accepted, ten rejected, one withdrawn, and nineteen are
pending.

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The editorial staff continues to function smoothly as a team. From January
to August, Monsignor Robert Trisco was responsible for the book review,
Periodical Literature, and Other Books Received sections. For academic year
2011–12 starting in September he is also generously serving as the acting
editor while Nelson H. Minnich is on sabbatical. Ms. Elizabeth Foxwell continues as the invaluable staff editor who ensures that the journal gets out on
time error-free. Ms. Rita Bogley, who worked half-time for the American
Catholic Historical Association until the office was transferred to Fordham
University in October, now works twenty hours a week for the Review. Mr.
Daniel V. Frascella continues as the industrious graduate assistant for book
reviews and computer services. For their dedication to the journal the editor
is deeply appreciative.
The board of advisory editors has provided invaluable advice on a number
of issues. At the ACHA annual meeting in Boston last year, planning for the
special centenary issue in 2015 was discussed. Over the course of the year,
the topics to be treated were decided, and distinguished contributors for each
have been found. With the help of the advisory editors, the next contributor
to the series Journeys in Church History was chosen and commissioned.
Discussions among the editors also are proceeding on a new format for the
journal: cover and layout design. The editor is very grateful for the wise assistance they have provided him.
TABLE 1.
Manuscripts submitted before 2011.

Area

Accepted
Rejected or Awaiting Published
Awaits
Withdrawn Author
in
Publication Abandoned
(W)
Response 2011 TOTAL

General
Ancient
Medieval
Early Modern
Late Modern
American
Latin American
Canadian
Far Eastern
African
TOTAL

4
3
1
3
1

1
1
1
2

W-1
1

1

1
3
4
3
1
1

2
3
3
3

1
12

7

2

1
14

11

1
8
10
11
10
3
1
1
1
46

THE 92ND ANNUAL MEETING OF THE AMERICAN CATHOLIC HISTORICAL ASSOCIATION

329

TABLE 2.
Manuscripts submitted in 2011.
Area

Rejected or
Published
Conditionally Withdrawn
in
Accepted
Accepted
(W)
Pending 2011 TOTAL

General
Ancient
Medieval
Early Modern
Late Modern
American
Latin American
Canadian
Far Eastern
Middle Eastern
African
TOTAL

1
1
1
1
R-3 W-1
3

1

1

2
4
6
3
3

1

1
19

11

1
1
3
5
11
7
3

1

1
32

TABLE 3.
Book reviews published in 2011.
Area

January

April

July

October

TOTAL

General
Ancient
Medieval
Early Modern
Late Modern
American
Latin American
Canadian
Far Eastern/Australian
African
TOTAL

9
4
14
16
15
7
1
0
2
1
69

9
4
9
13
9
6
3
0
1
0
54

3
5
12
8
7
3
3
0
2
0
43

9
6
21
24
15
11
6
1
4
0
97

30
19
56
61
46
27
13
1
9
1
263

Brief Notices

0

4

0

2

6

BOOK REVIEWS
________
General and Miscellaneous
The Future of History. By John Lukacs. (New Haven: Yale University Press.
2011. Pp. xii, 177. $26.00. ISBN 978-0-300-16956-0.)
John Lukacs often has reflected on the nature of history. This short volume
revisits some of what he has written, but with an eye specifically to the future
of the historical discipline. He views history, as many of us did, before the
appearance of social history and its many stepchildren. For Lukacs, history is
a literary rather than a scientific exercise, and, when properly pursued, its
achievement is knowledge that participates in both objectivity and subjectivity. But recently the study of history often has not been properly pursued; and
in part this book, without being a tale of woe, traces the decline of the field
and the appearance of a series of recent unfortunate fads.
The first of the book’s seven sections is on “Historianship”—the professional teaching and writing of history. Unfortunately, Lukacs repeats some of
the misinformation about the history of such words as primitive and
progress found in his earlier writings. If this seems evidence of some superficiality in his knowledge of ancient and medieval history, it does no great
damage to his larger arguments. Lukacs retains his sense of humor: Playing
with the well-known definition of a specialist as someone who knows more
and more about less and less, Lukacs observes that today we have a kind of
opposite—specialists who know less and less about more and more, some
specializing in multiculturalism (p. 19).
The second section,“Problems for the Profession,” gives good discussions
of many points. The pages on the limitations of polls especially are worthy of
note. As in other of his books, Lukacs stresses the weakening of state authority and sovereignty following World War II and expects this to continue as the
bourgeois modern European age passes into history. Nevertheless, he does
not see this as justifying the present neglect of the study of diplomatic and
military history.What is needed is a new diplomatic history that takes account
of how the democratization of the world has complicated the story that is to
be told.
In spite of the very real problems that accompany the growth of technology, the decrease in attention spans, and the difficulty of determining what on
the Internet is reliable, there has been a real increase in the appetite for history, and this is the subject of section 3 of Lukacs’s book. Interestingly, Lukacs
330

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331

sees the growing appetite for history as linked with decrease in belief in
progress and increase in skepticism about “modernity.” Following Wendell
Berry, he sees the emerging division as not between conservatives and liberals, but between those who view themselves as creatures and those who
think of themselves as machines.
Lukacs devoted section 4 to “Re-Cognition of History as Literature,” and
section 5 turns to “History and the Novel.” Section 6, “Future of the
Profession,” takes up such intriguing questions as the future of books and
reading, and the shortsightedness of American liberal historians. Lukacs does
not view the future optimistically. A final, brief section again adumbrates discussions found in Lukacs’s earlier writings, presenting these in the context of
his thesis that we are living at the passing of the modern age. One of the chief
achievements of that age was the spread of historical consciousness, and
Lukacs discusses whether this will last. Following one of Alexis de
Tocqueville’s insights—that inattention is the greatest defect in democratic
character—Lukacs thinks that in the pictorial age that is upon us, respect for
the past will not be lost. The book closes with a brief “Apologia.”
University of Utah, Salt Lake City

GLENN W. OLSEN

Ely: Bishops and Diocese, 1109–2009. Edited by Peter Meadows. (Rochester,
NY: The Boydell Press, an imprint of Boydell & Brewer. 2010. Pp. xx, 354.
$50.00. ISBN 978-1-843-83540-0.)
This collection of essays celebrates the ninth centenary of the foundation
of the Diocese of Ely. The editor and eight other contributors have examined
in detail the lives and careers of a succession of fifty-four bishops, from
Hervey to Anthony Russell, in chronological order. Peter Meadows has assembled some of the leading scholars among contemporary historians in the field
of English ecclesiastical history, including Nicholas Vincent for the thirteenth
century, Felicity Heal for the late-fifteenth to the mid-sixteenth century, Ian
Atherton for the period between 1559 and 1667, and Frances Knight for the
years 1864 to 1957. Other competent contributions in the medieval period
are provided by Nicholas Karn (the twelfth century); Benjamin Thompson
(the fourteenth century); Peter Meadows (the fifteenth century); and, in the
post-Reformation era, by Evelyn Lord (1667 to 1748), Peter Meadows (1748 to
1864), and Brian Watchorn (1959 to 2009). As one of the smallest and also
wealthiest among English dioceses through much of its history, Ely had the
additional attraction of the presence of Cambridge and the University of
Cambridge within its bounds. Furthermore, it was relatively close to London,
the seat of government and the royal court. An impressive number of Ely bishops have been academics as well as graduates, some (like Hugh de Balsham)
instrumental in the foundation of colleges and others serving as heads of colleges. Eight Ely bishops served as royal chancellors, Thomas Goodrich in 1552
being the last, and four went on to occupy the archiepiscopal see of

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Canterbury before 1500. Details of episcopal oversight of diocesan administration are to be found in the series of registers that provide the record of the
bishops’ official acts, of which the earliest surviving example is that of Simon
de Montacute (1338–1445). The severance of ties with Rome and the papacy
in the 1530s was followed by a lengthy period of tension and uncertainty
during which the English church struggled to forge its own distinctive identity among the churches stemming from the European Reformation. In this
development, as the authors make clear, Ely bishops played a significant role:
the moderate Lancelot Andrewes (1609–19) advocating compliance with the
sacramental rites and ceremony laid down by the Book of Common Prayer,
whereas his successor, Nicholas Felton (1619–26), preached Calvinistic
Puritanism, and Matthew Wren (1638–67) survived the Commonwealth years
imprisoned in the Tower of London. Among more recent diocesans, Harold
Browne (1864–73) is credited with drawing clergy and laity together to share
responsibility for the maintenance and well-being of their parish church and
surrounding community.
The final chapters deal with diocesan and parish activities and organizations, missionary endeavor at home and abroad, and the increasing financial
problems brought on by contemporary economic constraints and the shortage of clerical manpower. Although the chapters succeed one another in
chronological order, most of the individual chapters are thematically structured, the text constantly moving backward and forward in time with few references to dates. Even a diligent reader is apt to lose both the sequence of
events and the underlying thread of continuity. This difficulty, which is aggravated by the sheer quantity of information provided, could have been remedied by some pruning of insignificant, if not irrelevant, details. It would have
been helpful to have included for reference an appendix that included a list
of the bishops together with the dates of their tenure of office. There is an
impressive selection of both color and black-and-white plates, for which the
editor is to be commended.
Robinson College, Cambridge University

JOAN GREATREX

Roads to Rome. A Guide to Notable Converts from Britain and Ireland
from the Reformation to the Present Day. By John Beaumont. (South
Bend, IN: St. Augustine’s Press. 2010. Pp. xiii, 493. $55.00. ISBN 978-1-58731720-0.)
For Victorian Catholicism, the Catholic Emancipation of 1829 and the reestablishment of a Catholic hierarchy in 1850 restored national identity and
respectability to believers villainized and marginalized for 300 years. John
Henry Newman’s rightly famous “Second Spring” sermon on July 13, 1853,
heralded a new era that augured well for the Church’s future in Great Britain.
W. Gordon Gorman documented Catholic success in “Rome’s Recruits”: A List
of Protestants Who Have Become Catholics since the Tractarian Movement

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333

(London, 1878). Subsequent editions were published, with the last appearing
in 1910.
The rush of Protestants, especially English Anglicans, to the Church of
Rome over the last three decades has occasioned the odd reference to a “third
spring.” If so, legal consultant and freelance writer John Beaumont assumes
the Gorman role. Beaumont became a Roman Catholic in 1980, later compiling Converts to Rome: A Guide to Notable Converts from Britain and
Ireland during the Twentieth Century (Port Huron, MI, 2006). Three works
followed: Converts from Britain and Ireland in the Nineteenth Century
(Port Huron, MI, 2007), Jewish Converts (Port Huron, MI, 2007), and Early
Converts (Port Huron, MI, 2008). In his introduction to Converts to Rome,
published as an appendix to this volume, Stanley L. Jaki, O.S.B., clearly connects the works of Beaumont and Gorman and considers the former as a
revival of “a most praiseworthy enterprise which came to an end shortly
before World War I” (p. 473). Perhaps it is slightly disingenuous of Beaumont
not to acknowledge Gorman’s work in his introduction. Without Gorman,
Beaumont’s task would have been much harder. Gorman, the Oxford
Dictionary of National Biography, and the Catholic Encyclopedia (generally
the old rather than the new edition) provide Beaumont with most of his biographical data, but Beaumont must have scoured numerous autobiographical
works in his search for the motives behind the conversion. The inclusion of
this material makes this volume especially valuable and provides many data
for any attempted explanation of the phenomenon of conversion.
The entries for Elizabethan and Jacobean England are generally accurate,
although stylistic inconsistencies exist (e.g., Anglican clergy referred to as
“clergymen” and “ministers,” although the latter term is generally restricted to
non-Conformist clergy). But the entries for post-Gorman twentieth-century
converts, not their Elizabethan predecessors, are the reason for acquiring this
book. Many entrants are still alive. However, the criteria for inclusion are
unclear. Some distinguished converts (e.g., Kenneth Noakes, patristic scholar;
Colin Amery, architectural writer and adviser to the prince of Wales; and
Andrew Sanders, professor of English at the University of Durham) are missing. Actress Diana Dors and her third husband, Alan Lake, are included.
Literary distinction demanded the inclusion of such embarrassing converts
such as Oscar Wilde and F. W. Rolfe. But what explains the omission of
Margaret, duchess of Argyle? Beaumont, like Gorman, excludes a reference to
himself.
Gorman stressed English, Scottish, and Welsh aristocrats and social elites.
Beaumont moves beyond the governing classes to the theater, cinema, literature, and academia. Talk about conversion is not fashionable in a present-day
society that is “ecumaniacal” (to use Jaki’s term). Beaumont has provided us
with a very useful reference work even if we query its apologetic tone.
Gorman had intended to publish a new edition and announced in January

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1924 that it was almost ready to go to press. But the litigation that resulted
from the mistaken inclusion of a peer of the realm in an earlier edition devastated Gorman. Let us hope that nothing similar prevents Beaumont from
continuing this work.
Fordham University

THOMAS M. MCCOOG, S.J.

Hagiographies: Histoire internationale de la littérature hagiographique
latine et vernaculaire en Occident des origines à 1550.Vol.V. Under the
direction of Guy Philippart. [Corpus Christianorum, Hagiographies V.]
(Turnhout: Brepols, 2010. Pp. 808. €275,00. ISBN 978-2-503-52583-9.)
This book is the fifth and final volume of a formidable enterprise begun
more than thirty years ago, a definitive set of essays on the state of the field
of the study of medieval hagiography. The volume begins with a “Table
générale des matières” that sets forth a very logical order of essays, beginning
with “Antiquity” (essays on Latin Africa, Europe, and St. Jerome); Italy (seven
chronological periods from 300–1550, each with geographically-based essays
on South, Central and North Italy); and similarly divided sections on Spain, the
Latin East, Hungary, Croatia and Slovenia, Bohemia and Moravia, Poland, Gaul,
Germany, France, the Netherlands, and the British Isles (pp. 5–7).
However admirable this plan, however, the order of publication turned out
to be very different. For example, volume I starts with Latin Africa and
Jerome, but then skips to North Italy 1130–1220; Spain 1450–1550; the Latin
East; Latin German hagiography 1220–1450; Vernacular German texts
1350–1550; Southwest France 750–950; Central France in the same period;
and Anglo Norman, Middle English, and Scots hagiography.Volume V is just as
varied, containing essays on Italian saints’ lives and passions 300–550, Central
Italy 950–1130, and 1130–1220. In the introduction to volume I, published in
1994, Philippart explains that he originally had hoped to bring them out as a
group in the order listed in volume V, but soon found this idea “utopian.” Once
several essays had been submitted and had languished for two years, it was
decided that the volumes would be issued as the essays were submitted to the
editor, with the assurance that scholars would be able to find what they
wanted easily enough (I:23). Perhaps this is true, but it does make for a somewhat disjointed volume and puts a rather heavy burden on the reader.
In spite of this oddity of organization, however, there are some very fine
contributions to the study of medieval hagiography in volume V. Cécile
Lanéry’s monumental essay on the hagiographical passions written in Italy
between 300–550 (pp. 15–369) gives ample social contextualization for these
often grisly accounts; and the analysis of Central Italian hagiography from
1130 to 1220 by Antonella Degl’Innocenti (pp. 731–98) makes careful distinctions between ecclesiastical categories (episcopal, monastic, eremitic, and
lay saints) and the varied historical and cultural contexts of the lives

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(Translatio Apostoli,Anglo-Irish saints, and ancient martyrs). These essays are
models of erudition and clarity that would be very useful to students.
It is a joy to see this massive project finished at long last. The essays in
these five volumes will certainly be important references for scholars of the
medieval hagiographical tradition for at least the next generation of scholars.
University of Pennsylvania

E. ANN MATTER

Psychology and Catholicism: Contested Boundaries. By Robert Kugelmann.
(New York: Cambridge University Press. 2011. Pp. v, 490. $125.00. ISBN 9781-107-00608-9.)
Robert Kugelmann, a psychology professor at the University of Dallas, has
written an intellectual history of the relationships between psychology and
Catholicism in America from 1879 to 1965—a more circumscribed subject
than his title suggests, but an authoritative history of these interactions.
Although American Catholics in psychology lack a signal figure—a Freud
or Jung, or a seminal work or theory—their interactions are deep and varied.
At their heart is a contest between faith and reason, between the soul and the
self, which has altered everything from pastoral counseling and the confessional to marriage preparation and Catholic education. However, giving an
account of these interactions is conceptually challenging, because psychology as a field has contested roots, practices, meanings, and relationships with
other disciplines.
To navigate this uncertain terrain, Kugelmann identifies four broad characterizations of the interactions between psychology and religion. First, since
psychology develops only from empirically tested results, it neither depends
on nor challenges theological claims. Second, psychology, like all knowledge,
has philosophical presuppositions that participate in and challenge theological claims, so psychology is bound, in some fashion, to philosophy and theology. Third, theological commitments precede the developments of psychology, so the only valid psychology is a confessional psychology. Fourth, religion
is irrational and psychology is rational, so psychology is a replacement for
both theology and faith.
In Kugelmann’s account, Catholics understand the relationships between
faith and psychology chiefly through one of the first two categories, either as
an empirical science whose claims do not affect or depend on their faith, or
as a field of knowledge whose claims, although distinct, participate in theological and philosophical claims.
After establishing these categories in the first chapter, Kugelmann develops these relationships over eight chapters that function like case histories of
specific moments and movements in recent history. These densely researched

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BOOK REVIEWS

and illustrated chapters draw on primary and secondary texts, magazine articles, correspondence, professional meetings, research publications, and textbooks. They are suitable to assign individually to graduate or advanced undergraduate students, especially the chapters on psychoanalysis, depth
psychology, and the institutionalization of psychology. Kugelmann evinces a
deep knowledge of the history of both psychology and Catholicism, which
makes these chapters rewarding. He shows how Catholics develop a rapprochement with psychology around sexual morality and personhood and
how the clergy and laity employ psychology. In these chapters, Kugelmann’s
history significantly improves on previous texts. Less successful are early
chapters on modernism and neo-Scholasticism that, although accurate and
detailed, are better accounted for by other historians.
In the final chapter, Kugelmann offers a constructive account for the relationship, suggesting that psychology return to the soul. In its initial development, psychology did not discuss the soul, in part to distinguish itself from
theology. Kugelmann argues that it is now necessary to revisit the soul
within psychology and argues for a movement analogous to ressourcement
theology. He notes the development of indigenous psychologies, psychologies developed out of a particular community’s practice for a particular
community’s account of psychological phenomena. He argues, like Henri de
Lubac, for a return to sources indigenous to Catholicism—say, John Cassian
on self-disclosure.
This possibility is particularly moving. In De Lubac’s great work,
Catholicism: Christ and the Common Destiny of Man (San Francisco, 1988),
he wrote that
the greater becomes one’s familiarity with this immense army of witnesses, the closer one’s association with this one or that, the keener is the
realization of how deep is the unity in which all those meet together who,
faithful to the Church, live by the same faith in the Holy Spirit. (p. 20)
If Kugelmann can spark a similar engagement of psychology with the riches
of Catholicism, this book will prove not just authoritative, but prophetic.
ABRAHAM NUSSBAUM

University of Colorado
Ancient

The Origins of Feasts, Fasts, and Seasons in Early Christianity. By Paul F.
Bradshaw and Maxwell E. Johnson. [Alcuin Club Collections, 86.]
(Collegeville, MN: A Pueblo Book, Liturgical Press. 2011. Pp. xvi, 222.
$29.95 paperback. ISBN 978-0-814-66244-1.)
Paul Bradshaw and Maxwell Johnson, both professors of liturgy at the
University of Notre Dame, here provide an excellent introduction to recent

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scholarship on early Christian feasts, fasts, and seasons. The book is also readily accessible to nonspecialists interested in these topics. The twenty chapters cover the whole range of the field from the emergence of Sunday as a
weekly celebration of the coming Parousia to the beginnings of Marian worship at an earlier date than has often been assumed. The authors take positions, where evidence and argument permit, while judiciously leaving undecided matters that remain controversial.
The authors persuasively overthrow many of the conclusions of an earlier
generation of scholars, some of which remain deeply embedded in popular
belief. Sunday originates not as a weekly memorial of the Resurrection, but
as a celebration of “the Lord’s Day,” in an eschatological sense. The annual
observance of the Passion on the date of the Passover full moon
(Quartodecimanism) is the oldest Christian practice, not a later Judaizing
innovation. Annual celebration of the Resurrection on the Sunday after
Passover grew out of Quartodecimanism, but not until Sunday itself had
taken on a paschal significance.
Lent originates not as a gradual extension of the two days of fasting before
Easter, but from a three-week period of preparation for baptism associated
with several seasons of the year. The tradition of a forty days’ fast was originally an imitation of Jesus’s forty days in the wilderness and associated, especially at Alexandria, with the feast of the Epiphany.
The rapid acceptance in the fourth century of December 25 as a separate
feast of the Nativity was theologically motivated. The feast of Epiphany or
Theophany was so named because Jesus appeared as Son of God at his baptism. These “adoptionist” overtones became inappropriate in the context of
fourth-century trinitarian theology.
The chapters on “Initiation at Easter” and “The First Martyrs and Saints” are
especially enlightening. Because baptism required a preparatory period of
fasting and fasting was prohibited on Saturday, except before Easter, Easter
became an appropriate time for initiation. Baptism at the Easter Vigil is well
attested in North Africa and Milan, but not as universal as has sometimes been
supposed. Whereas earlier scholars sometimes relegated the cult of martyrs
to the realm of superstition, more recent studies have rediscovered the centrality of such worship to ordinary Christian experience. As the age of persecution passed, veneration was extended to noteworthy ascetics, bishops, and
others.
In a few instances, overreliance on secondary sources has left unchallenged the outdated findings of an earlier generation of scholars. The authors
repeat, for example (p. 59), the unfounded assumption that differences
between Rome and Alexandria on the date of the equinox led to differences
in their Paschal calculations. Although March 25 was the traditional date of
the equinox in the Roman calendar, the Roman cycle of eighty-four years used

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BOOK REVIEWS

in the fourth and fifth centuries set March 22 as the earliest permissible date
for Easter and thus implicitly accepted the Alexandrian date of March 21 for
the equinox.
This and a few (very few) other minor errors neither vitiate the authors’
conclusions nor detract from the general usefulness of this highly informative
book.
University of California, San Diego (Emeritus)

ALDEN A. MOSSHAMMER

Hadrian and the Christians. Edited by Marco Rizzi. [Millennium Studies:
Studies in the Culture and History of the First Millennium C.E., Vol. 30.]
(New York: Walter de Gruyter. 2010. Pp. vi, 186. $98.00 ISBN 978-3-11022470-2.)
Hadrian and the Christians is a publication that must excite curiosity
about this emperor whose reign is widely considered to be one of peace,
prosperity, and religious tolerance. It is sixty years since Stewart Perowne
expressed his opinion that Hadrian was the catalyst for the rise of
Christianity. Now editor and contributor Marco Rizzi proposes a fresh
approach that will investigate the role played by Hadrian in creating an environment in which Christianity was able to define and present itself (for example, p. 2). Five other scholars from related disciplines have each contributed
essays. These are of varying standards with some lapses in providing accurate
references and coin catalog numbers.
It is commendable that a comprehensive list of ancient sources is supplied, but it would have been even more useful to have a general discussion
of these in Rizzi’s introduction with his observations on the writings of
Aristides, Ignatius, and Justin. An alteration in the order of the essays would
have permitted a better understanding of Hadrian; Marco Galli could then
have provided more commentary on Hadrian’s early influences, particularly
how his paideia was gained and the rôle models who informed his later
policy making, especially in religious matters. Some mention should have
been made of Hadrian’s year (or more; c. 110–12) in Greece and his initial
introduction to the mystery cults and their connection with Hercules. This
might explain Hadrian’s early coins depicting Hercules, in addition to his
acknowledgment of the deity of Gades, his mother’s patria.
Apparently, the essayists worked closely together and determined that
124/25 represented a turning point in Hadrian’s religious policy. This is never
clearly stated except by Alessandro Galimberti; he concludes that the fake
letter of Hadrian to Servianus provides a fifth-century retrospective insight
into Hadrian’s religious policy, showing that he had “settled his accounts with
Judaism, embarked on a new course with Christianity and reviewed the relationship with Egyptian cults” (for example, p. 120). Hadrian was always aware

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of his duty as pontifex maximus, but there is no doubt that his curiosity and
personal search for religious fulfillment would have led him to thoroughly
examine the beliefs of his subjects. From the start of his reign there were no
persecutions against Christians. Ignatius’s martyrdom took place during
Trajan’s reign, recorded as during the consulship of Senecio and Sura, so in
107. At this time Cornelius Palma was governor of Syria,Trajan was concluding the second war in Dacia, and Hadrian was en route to his appointment as
governor in Pannonia Inferior. Hadrian’s tolerance of Christians, apparent
from his letter to Minicius Fundanus (replying to Gratianus’s request for guidance), cannot be attributed to the Apologists to whom he may have granted
an audience in 124/25 or even c.131/32, according to Galimberti. Although
the excavations of the Antinoeion at the Villa are of enormous interest, the
cult of Antinous was very late in Hadrian’s reign. Elena Calandra could have
made her essay more pertinent by including a discussion of Burton
MacDonald’s theory of mystery cult activity in the subterranean passages and
the South Theatre.
Hadrian’s vision of Panhellenion both reflected his love for Greece and
the Greeks and his awareness of their persistent intercity rivalry. It represented Hadrian’s pursuit of tranquillitas. Yet despite Hadrian’s best intentions, as Giovanni Bazzana shows in his scholarly and thorough essay on the
Bar Kokhba Revolt, the emperor misunderstood the Judaean Jews. His reaction to the rebellion was a typical Roman response, exacerbated by worsening health, his grief for Antinous, and the destruction of his dream of pax
Romana.
Livia Capponi makes several very interesting points: that Hadrian visited
both Jerusalem and Alexandria early in his reign; that the Egyptian cults
played a vital role in providing a spiritual background for Christianity, with
the customs and beliefs of Serapis worshipers overlapping with those of
Christians; and that the Alexandrian Serapeum was a holy place for
Christians and Jews. Hadrianic building flourished in this atmosphere of religious tolerance.
The separation of Jews and Christians and their differences are made
clear, but not that both suffered the same problem with the imperial cult,
which demanded that the emperor be worshipped before their God. The
essays, unfortunately, fail to provide sufficient evidence to support Rizzi’s
ambitious claims that Hadrian’s religious policies were instrumental in the
rise of Christianity. Hadrian would probably have been surprised to find himself considered the hero of a religion that would struggle to emulate his religious tolerance.
University of Melbourne

TRUDIE FRASER

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Theodoret’s People: Social Networks and Religious Conflict in Late Roman
Syria. By Adam M. Schor. [Transformation of the Classical Heritage, XLVIII.]
(Berkeley: University of California Press. 2011. Pp. xvi, 342. $49.95. ISBN
978-0-520-26862-3.)
It is common knowledge that the Christological controversies surrounding the Third and Fourth Ecumenical Councils (in 431 and 451, respectively)
involved far more than just theological debates, and a great deal of scholarship has focused on the complex politics of these discussions. Adam Schor’s
work, Theodoret’s People, significantly advances this scholarship by providing a carefully researched, nuanced portrayal of the social networks
among bishops and prominent lay civil leaders, networks that Theodoret
spent his life fostering and that he utilized in his efforts to forge
Christological consensus in a confusing, fractured environment. Schor’s
analysis of the interaction between clerical networks in Syria and his elucidation of the various approaches that different bishops took to the leadership of these networks is outstanding. His portrayal of the link between
clerical networks and the performance of patronage is also excellent, and
his work thus makes a major contribution to our understanding of lateantique Roman society.
Given Schor’s focus on social history, it is not surprising that he largely
stays away from doctrinal issues, but in his final chapter—certainly the most
tantalizing of the book—he argues persuasively that the Syrian
(“Antiochene”) picture of Christ mirrored the networking, interactive way
Syrian bishops functioned (in contrast to the Cyrillian picture of Christ that
mirrored the top-down way the Alexandrian bishop acted in Egyptian society). This assertion gives doctrinal historians much to chew on. At the same
time, it is worth pointing out that when Schor does range into the realm of
theology, his categories for describing the Christological controversies are a
bit stale compared with the freshness of the rest of his work. He depicts the
theological portion of the controversies as primarily a clash between miaphysite and dyophysite understandings of Christ and writes glowingly of
Theodoret’s defense of the “two natures” formula on the grounds that Christ
had to be a single person with two identities to be our mediator. True
enough, but virtually any bishop in the fifth century would have agreed with
this assertion. The fundamental theological questions were more specific
than Schor alleges.
Ironically, in spite of the understandably oversimplified way in which
Schor’s work handles the theological issues, it seems to this reviewer that his
book has more theological significance than he probably realizes. Many scholars have argued that the actual theological differences between Antiochenes
and Alexandrians were not that significant. Others of us have claimed that
Theodoret and most of the other Antiochenes were not actually “Antiochene.”
In either of these scenarios, most (or even all) of the fifth-century bishops

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were trying to say the same thing, and thus one of the most perplexing historical questions is why so few of them realized this. Schor’s analysis of constantly shifting social networks provides a means of explaining the fact (if it
is a fact) that so many bishops opposed each other so rancorously when they
actually shared a common faith. In providing a very plausible explanation for
this phenomenon, Schor has done historians of all stripes—doctrinal as well
as social—a great service. Not only can we more accurately understand the
way social networks functioned but also, with Schor’s help, we can see that
the battle lines in the controversy often did not line up with the actual lines
of theological agreement and disagreement. Armed with this recognition, we
are in a better position to probe where the theological lines actually lay and
whether or not there was a consensus beneath the shifting sands of doctrinal
expression and clerical networking.
Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary
Charlotte, NC

DONALD FAIRBAIRN

Monaci, vescovi e scuola nella Gallia tardoantica. By Roberto Alciati. [Temi
e Testi, Vol. 72.] (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura. 2009. Pp. xi, 273.
€39,00 paperback. ISBN 978-8-863-72083-9.)
In recent years the late-antique school, rightly considered a key factor to
the survival and evolution of Greco-Roman civilization, has been attracting
scholarly attention. The vivid interest in the Third Sophistic and the excitement raised by the discovery of schoolrooms at Kom el-Dikka in Alexandria
are just two examples. Roberto Alciati’s book certainly is part of this development, although it does not focus on the school as institution, either monastic or secular. Alciati describes the subject of his interest as the relationship
among teachers, pupils, and texts, or the creation of a textual and interpretative community in the monastic milieu of southern and central Gaul, from the
beginning of its literary history early in the fifth century to the publication of
Vitae Patrum Iurensium in c. 520. However, he does not clearly explain the
criteria for his choice of monks, bishops, and writers who composed this
community—and this choice is not self-evident.
The construction of the book seems to reflect the order of research.
Alciati is interested in such topics as the teacher-student relationship, the formation of monastic literary canons, and the character of teaching, but he does
not present them in thematic order. Consecutive chapters are devoted to
major monastic milieus and authors—the circle of St. Martin of Tours and
Sulpicius Severus, Lérins and associated personages (Eucher, bishop of Lyon;
Salvian of Marseille; St. Vincent of Lérins; and St. Faustus, bishop of Riez), the
community of Condatisco in the Jura, Julianus Pomerius, and Claudianus
Mamertus. Such a construction has the obvious advantage of permitting
Alciati to fix and carefully analyze every quotation from these authors in its
context, but at a price—the reader sometimes is at a loss to understand the

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author’s aim. His quite convincing textual interpretations are easy to follow,
but his comprehensive vision of the problem less so.
The conclusions, if not groundbreaking, are definitely interesting. First,
Alciati demonstrates that the most important element that several prominent
Gallic monks and bishops adopted from their school (whatever form it took)
was the method—the classical method of interpreting texts and constructing arguments as well as a method of teaching, manifest especially in quaestiones et responsiones and dialogues. Second, he shows that the teacherstudent relationship, like the links of patronage, created an important
network that connected monks, bishops, and other teachers.Third, he reveals
how consciously the canon of monastic “school” texts was formed and how
a library could have played a founding role for a community. Fourth, Alciati
shows that education in a monastic environment was not based on Christian
literature alone and that philosophical training was appreciated and evidently found useful.
A comparison of the Gallic model with other approaches to Christian education would have been welcome. There is a chapter on the Cappadocian
Fathers, but not on Latin authors from outside Gaul who were involved in
teaching. Therefore, it is up to the reader to decide whether Alciati’s monastic Gaul is just a case study or a phenomenon apart.
University of Warsaw

ROBERT WI ŚNIEWSKI

Heaven’s Purge: Purgatory in Late Antiquity. By Isabel Moreira. (New York:
Oxford University Press. 2010. Pp. x, 310. $65.00. ISBN 978-0-199-73604-1.)
This is an important and thoughtful study of a subject plagued by the success of Jacques Le Goff’s The Birth of Purgatory (Chicago, 1984), which
tried to prove that purgatory did not exist in Western consciousness until the
twelfth century invented the noun. Isabel Moreira gets far beyond this oversimplification, thanks to a faithful reading of many difficult sources. Her book
is a model for work in the humanities, with an interdisciplinary approach to
law, theology, and visionary literature. Her conclusions are clear and succinct.
However, the use of the term late antiquity for the Western world until the
700s results in a chronological misunderstanding and confuses the reader. In
addition, in the first chapters there are frequent references to other scholars
without presentation of their views. A separate chapter summarizing Stand
der Forschung would have been helpful. However, the endnotes are helpful
in substantiating the conclusions of the well-written text.
In a short review it is not possible to convey the rich layers of this monograph, but the reader can look forward to many fresh interpretations of a
varied source material. The author largely rejects Peter Brown’s attractive
view that the concept of purgatory arose from an Irish context. The evidence
is lacking that the classical idea of amnesty was exchanged for an Irish belief

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in the purgation of the individual (p. 142). Moreira shows instead how earlymedieval culture was deeply dependent on monastic, biblical, and patristic literature. She does a superb job in showing how St. Boniface and the Venerable
Bede, although they did not know each other, both contributed to a new
understanding of the possibility of purgation in the afterlife. She refuses to
accept the long-held belief that belief in purgation in the afterlife somehow
comes from “barbarian” attitudes, whether found in law codes or other
sources. We are assured that by the time of Bede and Boniface, a connection
was seen between prayers for the dead and the alleviation of purgatorial fire,
a linkage that St. Augustine had failed to make (p. 165). For the barbarian
chieftain Radbod it was outrageous that he could not secure through his baptism the salvation of dead family members. But Bede and his successors
refused to permit the heresy of Origen—that in the end all would be saved.
Purgatory became a necessity for all the baptized, but not a guarantee of universal salvation. This “compassionate theology of purgatory” was useful for
missionaries (p. 190).
This monograph does more than illustrate the development of the doctrine of purgatory; it contributes to the intellectual and social history of earlymedieval Europe.
BRIAN PATRICK MCGUIRE

Roskilde University, Denmark
Medieval

Holy Bones, Holy Dust: How Relics Shaped the History of Medieval Europe.
By Charles Freeman. (New Haven: Yale University Press. 2011. xvii, 306.
$35.00. ISBN 978-0-300-12571-9.)
In writing a history of the Christian cult of relics, Charles Freeman does a
valuable service for the educated and curious because—remarkably—such a
thing did not previously exist in English. To his great credit, Freeman has read
widely and voraciously. He has organized his findings in twenty-six loosely
chronological chapters with brief notes and bibliography, charting the rise and
fall of the cult. Although not deeply scholarly, the book fills a need with a lively
narrative and a plenitude of specific and fascinating bits of information.
The strength of this book is its compelling sense of storytelling. The book
organizes and delivers an overview of the rich work produced by scholars in
the last twenty years. Celebrated scholars such as Peter Brown, Caroline
Bynum, Eamon Duffy, Patrick Geary, Miri Rubin, André Vauchez, and many
others are allowed to “speak” through the author. In chapters where the scholarship is particularly rich and focused—such as those on Byzantine relics and
the Crusades, those on the rise of Gothic architecture, on the issues of the resurrected body, or the history of papal canonization (for some reason sensationally titled “Christ’s recruits . . . fight back”)—Freeman’s ability to write
exciting narrative sweeps one along. Generally there are big themes—poli-

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tics, religion, conflict, and resolution—but there also are many telling anecdotes and a sense of the personal and the touchingly human.
The urge for storytelling also is the weakness of the book. In the effort to
forge a narrative from frightfully disparate material, at times the textures of
densely argued scholarly theses have been flattened and contexts have been
distorted. To take one example, it cannot be doubted that there are some similarities between pagan practices and the new cult of Christian saints, but Peter
Brown has very eloquently argued against Edward Gibbon’s thesis of the mere
continuation of polytheism. It is dismaying to see it revived here. Occasionally
it is difficult to discover the source of quotes, despite the use of notes. Often
legends are presented as if worthy of belief (especially in regards to very early
dates), and at other moments the author’s skepticism creeps in with a randomly inserted (sic). Although surely Freeman’s work here is very much to be
admired, perhaps inevitably in such an ambitious book, errors occur.
As mentioned above, Freeman’s story has an arc. That is, in taking up a very
English point of view (understandably, as Freeman is English), the story is
“completed” in the formation of the English Church and the European
Protestant Reformation. Admittedly, there is an attempt at a sort of coda about
the Catholic church after the Reformation, but the penultimate paragraph
seems to express the author’s conclusion best: “An alternative approach, that
the supernatural might be a figment of the imagination, was being formulated
for the first time but its definition, notably in the Enlightenment, lies far
beyond the scope of this book” (p. 269).
Encountering references throughout to “credulity,”“mass hysteria,”and generalizations about the “medieval mind,” one realizes one is in the company of
a very good popularizer who very much takes up the point of view of his
more skeptical audience—one slightly appalled at all this “relicing” and its
corollary superstitious behavior. Nonetheless, all is saved by a tasty storyline.
This is a book that is well worth reading and one that, it is to be hoped, will
lead the reader into the scholarship it so enthusiastically presents.
Hunter College, City University of New York

CYNTHIA HAHN

War and the Making of Medieval Monastic Culture. By Katherine Allen
Smith. [Studies in the History of Medieval Religion, Vol. XXXVII.]
(Rochester, NY: The Boydell Press, an imprint of Boydell & Brewer. 2011.
Pp. x, 239. $90.00. ISBN 978-1-843-83616-2.)
During the last twenty-five years or so, medievalists have broken down the
old artificial distinction between “those who fought” and “those who prayed”
to demonstrate how closely the monastic world and the world of the secular
aristocracy were intertwined. Crusaders and members of such groups as the
Templars were simultaneously fighters and men following religious dictates,
and, as many recent scholars have demonstrated, the spread of ascetic monas-

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ticism would have been impossible without the support of the warlike leaders of society. Building on that work, Katherine Allen Smith here takes the
analysis one step further to reveal how much monastic language and
metaphor owed to warfare. Monks saw themselves as warriors engaged in
spiritual battles, as Davids overthrowing Goliaths, as fighters requiring the
same fortitude and determination against their enemies as knights in battle.
Those converting to the religious life gave up violence but did not give up
being soldiers—they were just a different sort of soldier. Although scholars
have long noted monastic use of the term miles Christi (a soldier of Christ)
to describe a monk, this is the first in-depth study of how those in the cloister fashioned their image and their mission in terms borrowed from secular
warfare. Smith’s chief focus is northern France and England in the eleventh
and twelfth centuries, with forays back to early Christian writers.
The first chapter explores the prevalence of war—both real and
metaphorical—in the Bible and in the writings of the Church Fathers, indicating how thoroughly the monastic liturgy would have been imbued with
the language of armed combat. In the second chapter, Smith goes over the evidence indicating the close connections between knights and nobles on one
hand and cloistered monks on the other, arguing that knightly converts to the
religious life brought warlike attitudes with them. The third chapter traces
the history of the concept of a “soldier of Christ” from the early Church
through the twelfth century.
All of this is in preparation for the final two chapters, the real heart of
Smith’s argument—a close discussion of the martial imagery in monastic texts
and an analysis of the pious yet powerful warriors whom the monks admired
in the high Middle Ages. The latter group included both the warrior-saints of
distant antiquity and such semi-legendary figures as St.William of Gellone. In
addition, the monks admired warriors who converted to the religious life,
giving up their wealth and authority but not their unceasing opposition to
anything conceived as the enemy. Here, Smith gives a number of examples,
going beyond the well-known St. Bernard of Clairvaux and other knights of
the Cistercian order. Most interesting, however, of the pious warriors are the
loricati (“mailed ones”), those who wore actual armor while battling spiritual
evil. An appendix lists twenty-one such loricati from between the mideleventh and mid-thirteenth centuries, former warriors who continued to
wear mail (often under their robes) as a form of penitence.
Smith writes clearly and well. Her conclusion—that monks learned from
warriors as well as the other way around—is novel and well argued. The bibliography is extensive and up to date, and the notes are at the bottom of the
page where they belong. This important book is a welcome addition to the
recent literature on the relations between medieval church and society.
University of Akron

CONSTANCE B. BOUCHARD

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Sacred Folly: A New History of the Feast of Fools. By Max Harris. (Ithaca, NY:
Cornell University Press. 2011. Pp. xiv, 322. $49.95. ISBN 978-0-801-44956-7.)
The Feast of Fools was celebrated in the Middle Ages principally in northern France on January 1 (the Feast of the Circumcision), Epiphany, or its
octave. Church authorities had complained of boisterous New Year festivity
as early as the eighth century, but it is in the twelfth century—when the feast
had acquired its name and become a celebration of the subdiaconate—that
the most famous and scathing condemnations appear. A famous 1198 letter
from a papal legate to the bishop of Paris enumerates a wealth of liturgical
offenses, including clerical cross-dressing and turning the blessing with holy
water into a dunking. Later reformers cited other scurrilous activities such as
censing the altar with burning shoe leather.
Max Harris’s Sacred Folly aims to revise this long-held view of the feast’s
rowdiness, which he posits can be traced to two causes. First, he questions
the credibility of most of the shocking claims made about the feast’s celebration, noting that the most famous condemnations are not eyewitness
accounts but instead vaguely attributed “reports” from others. Second, Harris
looks to E. K. Chambers’s influential work The Mediæval Stage (Oxford,
1903). Chambers performed yeoman’s work in assembling all of the available
extant evidence of the feast, but conflated secular and liturgical New Year’s
practices. Chambers also aggregated evidence from across continents and
centuries, creating a view of the feast as a uniformly monolithic entity. Finally,
by privileging the official condemnations of ecclesiastical authorities over
other evidence, Chambers “exaggerated the disruptive character of the Feast
of Fools and minimized its positive contribution to the seasonal liturgy” (p. 4).
For Harris, the Feast of Fools was “a scripted addition to the seasonal
liturgy, initiated and controlled by the clergy,” initially conceived as “an
absorbing liturgical alternative to secular Kalends masquerades” (p. 23) that
responded to official complaints (initially from Pope Innocent III) not by suppression or sanitization, but rather by creating even more absorbing and
expanded liturgies such as those of Sens, Beauvais, and Laon.
Part 1 (chapters 1–5) examines older festive activities mistakenly connected with the Feast of Fools, demonstrating that they are not genuine precursors. Thus, medieval theologians’ belief that the feast had a pagan past (a
view that appears unequivocally in the Catholic Encyclopedia) is also incorrect. Part 2 (chapters 6–10) then explores the creation of the feast de novo in
northern France in the twelfth century, viewing it in a context of “economic
prosperity, intellectual ferment, and architectural and liturgical innovation”
rather than as a corrective to “social disorder and clerical decay” (p. 66).
Part 3 (chapters 11–15) examines ecclesiastical support for the new feast
after its creation to roughly 1500. Although it was critiqued or even banned
in some places, Harris documents overall support of the feast. (An attractive

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and helpful map in the book’s front matter summarizes locations of known
and dubious Feasts of Fools.) In part 4 (chapters 16–20), the story turns. Here,
Harris traces the rise of attacks on the feast during the course of the fifteenth
century and its survival in some places into the sixteenth and, at Noyon at
least, even later. The fifth and final part (chapters 21–25) describes in some
detail the goings-on supported by the lay festive societies. Harris argues that
these societies were not an outgrowth of the clerical feast but instead part of
“a broader explosion of amateur dramatic activity” that peaked between 1450
and 1560 (p. 243).
This is an important book, an essential and captivating modification to the
long-held view of the feast’s overall raucousness. Particularly compelling are
the sections in which Harris unravels the more outrageous claims about the
feast. His debunking (chapter 7) of the activities reported at Beauvais—
including the priest and congregation braying like a donkey and a clerical
drinking competition—is scholarly detective work of the finest kind, as is the
tracing (in chapter 8) of the claim that the Parisian celebration involved
bloodshed to a misreading of Peter the Chanter’s Verbum abbreviatum
(1191/92).
At the same time, one cannot help but wonder if the vast corpus of ecclesiastical condemnation might not have had at least some basis in reality. One’s
suspicions are strengthened, rather than dispelled, by the few places in which
the author seems to protest too much. For example, Harris emphasizes that
the “fools” of the feast were Pauline “fools for Christ’s sake,” whom God loves
because of their lowly status. Nevertheless, the inversion of clerical seating
arrangements during the feast—with subdeacons taking the places of chapter
officials—was surely a genuine, albeit temporary, supplanting. Harris overcorrects when he claims that “the church hierarchy understood the overthrow
[described by the chant Deposuit] to apply not to themselves but to unbelieving or recalcitrant secular powers,” ignoring the likelihood that the deposition could be both unfeigned and nonthreatening (p. 91).
Sacred Folly will appeal to a wide audience. Anyone interested in church
history, festal traditions, or the relationship between clerical and secular culture will find it engaging. Its compelling material, meticulous research, and
eminently readable style make it the rare “crossover” book for scholars and
nonscholars alike.
Columbia College Chicago

ROBERT LAGUEUX

Greeks, Latins, and the Church in Early Frankish Cyprus. By Christopher D.
Schabel. [Variorium Collected Studies Series, 949.] (Burlington,VT:Ashgate
Publishing. 2010. Pp. xii, 332. $165.00. ISBN 978-1-409-40092-9.)
A proverbial crossroads, Cyprus hosted numerous cultures and religions
during the late Middle Ages. Their local development and continued inter-

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changes with the larger medieval Mediterranean world make Frankish
Cyprus a compelling yet challenging subject of study. One of the greatest
challenges is that our understanding of many of the issues and even the
issues themselves have become quite knotted over time and can be difficult
to untangle. In the ten studies collected here—the earliest published in
1998, the newest appearing for the first time—the historian Christopher
Schabel clarifies a number of the questions that have not only affected local
scholarship but also have affected areas of study further afield.The rich variety of studies, focusing on the period 1191–1359, assures that there is much
of worth both for scholars who focus on Frankish Cyprus and for those who
come to the island tangentially.
Schabel’s strength as a scholar—reflected in this collection—is his consistent use of grounded, historical research and comparative study to unravel
confusing threads in both the primary and secondary literature, explain their
origins, correct past misconceptions, and place them in their medieval context(s). Article II (“The Myth of Queen Alice. . .”), for example, represents
Schabel at his best. He thoroughly examines a problem in our contemporary
scholarship through the lens of an exhaustive and extensively documented
study of both the primary documents and their reception by medieval, early
modern, and modern authors, including those writing in Greek. As in all of the
articles, his treatment includes copious amounts of supporting information
and references to his sources. The particular issue at hand, the role of Queen
Alice in the subjugation of the Greek clergy on Cyprus (c.1213–23) is very
entangled historiographically, and readers, including those more familiar with
the events, may find it useful to reread the appropriate sections of article I
(“The Status of the Greek Clergy in Early Frankish Cyprus”) to assure themselves of the current state of understanding once they have finished article II.
Many of the studies have also been made more readily available to scholars by their inclusion here. In this regard, article I on the status of the Greek
clergy will be seminal for most readers seeking to understand both the
medieval, cultural/religious and the modern, scholastic environments on the
island. Schabel re-evaluates the traditional understanding (in which the Latin
Church consciously and continuously oppressed and impoverished the
Greek) and presents a new, nuanced view centered on various spheres of
activity such as the economy, jurisdiction, doctrine, and practice in their
broader medieval context.
Readers interested in particular popes, bishops, or other figures and/or
groups may want to begin with the index and will most likely be drawn to
articles IV (Greek bishops), V (Latin bishops), VI (Cistercians and certain
nobles),VII (Peter de Castro),VIII and IX (Elias of Nabinaux), and X (Hugh IV
de Lusignan). Those more interested in either local events or Cyprus’s role in
contemporary issues, church-related and otherwise, may find themselves
drawn to article II, article III (“The Martyrdom of the Thirteen Monks of
Kantara”), and the general narratives of articles VII–X. The amount of infor-

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mation provided by these studies may seem overwhelming to some readers,
but the process of cross-checking people and interpretations is made easier
by the index that Schabel has provided. All readers will want to note the corrections, updated bibliography, and notes that he has added to the texts, as
well as his useful preface. Taken together, these ensure that this is and will
remain for quite some time a very rich and useful collection.
University of Minnesota, Morris

JAMES G. SCHRYVER

The Architecture of the Scottish Medieval Church, 1100–1560. By Richard
Fawcett. (New Haven:Yale University Press for the Paul Mellon Centre for
Studies in British Art. 2011. Pp. xiv, 456.$100.00. ISBN 978-0-300-17049-8.)
Over the past thirty years, Richard Fawcett’s numerous publications have
revolutionized our understanding of medieval church architecture in
Scotland. The fruits of his brilliant research are now brought together with
fine illustrations in this handsome new volume. The book opens with an
introduction to church architecture in Scotland before 1100, and there follow
eight chapters arranged chronologically and a conclusion on the impact of
the Reformation. Comprehensive endnotes and a bibliography facilitate further study on the buildings. Fawcett’s passion for architectural history exudes
throughout his presentation and meticulous analysis of the buildings, and this
cannot fail to be infectious for specialists and nonspecialists alike. His keen
eye for detail combined with an unparalleled knowledge of the buildings and
profound understanding of comparative material in Europe provides us with
an unparalleled view of Scottish churches in a European context. Churches
are discussed in their appropriate historical setting and, where documentation permits, in terms of their patronage. Small churches and those known
only from Antiquarian sources are examined alongside the “great monuments.” For twelfth-century churches Fawcett demonstrates close ties with
exemplars in England, particularly Durham Cathedral and its influence on
Dunfermline Abbey and Kirkwall Cathedral and several smaller churches. In
the thirteenth century, Lincoln Cathedral was a favorite point of reference, as
at Holyrood Abbey. Yet the Scottish churches were by no means provincial
copies of English models, especially in the smaller Romanesque churches of
the Northern Isles. In Orkney, the round tower at Egilsay and the twin round
western towers at Deerness (now lost) are allied to northern Germany, which
was then in the same ecclesiastical province. The southwest nave doorway at
Whithorn Cathedral is associated with Irish Romanesque. The ambitious
design of the twin-towered façade of Arbroath Abbey incorporates reticulated
masonry, perhaps as an expression of royal status or even imperial aspirations, whereas the huge round window may reflect northern French models
such as Laon Cathedral. Elsewhere, we encounter adventurous designs such
as the huge, four-light east window with rose-window-like oculus of the east
front of Kirkwall Cathedral, the west façade of Holyrood Abbey, and the variety of the plate tracery in the south choir aisle windows of Glasgow

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Cathedral. Moreover, in the crypt of Glasgow Cathedral there are remarkable
spatial innovations and complex vault patterns.
Political and diplomatic ties with France and commercial links with the
Low Countries account for many architectural associations from the late-fourteenth century and afterward. Especially intriguing is an inscription at
Melrose Abbey that records the career of the Paris-born mason John Morow
and various Scottish churches on which he worked. Fawcett establishes
Morow’s œuvre and includes striking parallels with the windows of the south
nave chapels at Amiens Cathedral, and tracery designs and sculptural details
at Vincennes Castle Chapel just east of Paris. These and other flowing tracery
designs are symptomatic of the lack of interest in the contemporary
Perpendicular style of England on the part of Scottish patrons and architects.
Connections with the Low Countries are manifest, as in the unusual form of
the crossing piers at Aberdeen in relation to the west tower piers of Brussels
Cathedral, and tracery design at King’s College, Aberdeen, and Utrecht
Cathedral.
This book is a masterpiece and will be the starting point for all future
research on medieval church architecture in Scotland. It is highly recommended as a model for all architectural historians and medievalists with an
interest in ecclesiastical architecture as well as the general reader who just
wants to enjoy and understand this period of Scottish heritage.
York University, Toronto

MALCOLM THURLBY

The Study of Medieval Manuscripts of England: Festschrift in Honor of
Richard W. Pfaff. Edited by George Hardin Brown and Linda Ehrsam Voigts.
[Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, Vol. 384; Arizona Studies in
the Middle Ages and Renaissance, Vol. 35.] (Tempe: Arizona Center for
Medieval and Renaissance Studies; Turnhout: Brepols. 2010. Pp. ix, 438.
$70.00. ISBN 978-2-503-53383-4.)
The sixteen studies in this volume honor Richard W. Pfaff—Rhodes
Scholar, biographer of M. R. James, expert on the liturgy of the medieval
church, and Episcopalian priest—who taught in the History Department at
the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, from 1967 until his retirement
in 2006. Reflecting the distribution of the honoree’s own interests, the contributions subdivide into two sections: “Liturgical Studies” and “Historical
Studies.”
Three contributions within each section are thematically connected. The
Sarum liturgy provides the link within the first section. William Peter Mahrt
shows how, when the site of Salisbury Cathedral was moved in the early-thirteenth century from within the old hilltop Roman fort of Sarum down to the

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plains below, processions at the new cathedral tended to reflect the topography of the old structure, despite notable differences in architecture and
layout. These continuing features of the processions were in turn incorporated into the Sarum rite, which by the end of the Middle Ages had been
adopted in most dioceses of the English church’s southern province. Two
complementary essays by Nigel Morgan and Sherry Reames discuss the diversity of the content of the many late-medieval manuscripts that carry the
Sarum rite. Morgan studies the Sanctorale portions of nineteen Missals and
fourteen Breviaries produced between c. 1250 and c. 1350 to demonstrate
how the use of Sarum spread during this period; the evidence establishes that
in numerous manuscripts certain Sarum feasts were omitted, whereas nonSarum feasts were frequently included—a reflection of the persistence of the
traditions of the diocese for which an individual manuscript was prepared.
Reames discusses hagiographical texts added to the normal contents of the
Sarum Sanctorale in some ninety manuscripts. Noting the fluidity and pluralism presented by the manuscripts, she concludes that “many dioceses and
individual churches adopted the Sarum liturgy piecemeal, accepting most of
its calendar and ceremonial while retaining non-Sarum feasts that had local
importance” (p. 169).
Among the other liturgically focused contributions, Janet Sorrentino analyzes the unusual emphasis on perseverance in the votive Mass for laybrothers that occurs in a thirteenth-century Missal of the Order of Sempringham.
Identifying this characteristic as a response to an earlier rebellion by the
order’s laybrothers, she offers a valuable discussion of the status of conversi
within the new religious orders of the twelfth century. Christopher A. Jones’s
essay extends a previous study in which he argued that the great Carolingian
liturgist Amalarius wrote an early work on the special liturgies of the last days
of Holy Week. He presents the text of two twelfth-century bifolia surviving in
London, Lambeth Palace Library, MS 1229, which contain an anonymous
compilation on the triduum sacrum; he proposes that two sentences are
drawn from the lost Amalarian treatise. Elizabeth C. Teviotdale discusses the
gospel extracts of Cambridge, Pembroke College, MS 302, an illuminated lateAnglo-Saxon manuscript that has often been categorized as a gospel lectionary, even though the extracts occur in biblical rather than liturgical order.
Teviotdale argues that the manuscript is a devotional book prepared for a private, probably Benedictine, owner connected with Worcester; she sees its
closest parallel in the Gospels of St. Margaret of Scotland, which likewise presents a set of extracts compiled for a specific patron’s devotional use.Andrew
Hughes examines anomalous features of the page layout in two fifteenthcentury copies of the liturgy for St. Thomas Becket’s vigil, seeking to determine what these features reveal about the stages by which complex liturgical
manuscripts were produced. Readers who are not adept paleographers may
find this article somewhat impenetrable; it is regrettable that its accompanying illustrations are of poor quality and that the color reproduction repeatedly
referenced is nowhere to be found.

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The first three essays among the “Historical Studies” are linked by their
Anglo-Saxon focus. In his contribution on pastoral care in early-Anglo-Saxon
England, Alan Thacker offers a resolution of the ongoing debate over the
respective roles of monasteries on the one hand, and priests and bishops on
the other. He detects a false dichotomy here—the evidence indicates that
there were relatively few priests in seventh- and eighth-century England; that
they tended to live in communities called monasteria; and that these communities, although devoted to contemplation on one level, were also the purveyors of pastoral care to their local communities. Joshua A. Westgard discusses the material relating to St.Wilfrid that in a dozen manuscripts is added
to the annalistic recapitulation near the end of the Venerable Bede’s
Ecclesiastical History. He suggests that these Wilfridian additions hint at a
larger, unfulfilled project to supplement the recapitulation with material relating to the Christianization of Mercia. Joseph Wittig considers the Old English
translation of metrum 9 (“O qui perpetua”) of book III of Boethius’s
Consolation of Philosophy to determine whether the Latin glossing tradition
influenced the translator’s expansions on and departures from Boethius’s
original text. Detecting no specific debt, he concludes that both translation
and glosses exemplify a wide-ranging interpretative activity indicative of the
growing importance accorded Boethius’s text within the monastic schools.
The “Historical Studies” include two sparkling contributions by Chapel Hill
emeriti. Jaroslav Folda analyzes the twenty-five (originally twenty-six) historiated initials of London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 12—a copy of the
Old French translation of William of Tyre’s History of Outremer and its continuation to 1232. Commenting on the artist’s sensitivity, his originality in
selecting unusual but important scenes for illustration, and his success in presenting a panorama of crusading history, Folda concludes that the initials are
the work of an English artist of the 1240s who perhaps trained at Salisbury
and may have worked in one of the centers connected with the new wave of
secular book illustration. Through a magisterial survey of the transmission of
Greek and Arabic medical literature newly available in the thirteenth century,
Michael McVaugh deduces the likely career path of Gilbert the Englishman,
author of a major medical compilation, the Compendium medicine. McVaugh
convincingly proposes that Gilbert was born after 1210, completed his arts
training at Paris after 1230, received medical training there or at Montpellier,
and (following a brief interlude of professional activity in the Latin Kingdom
of Jerusalem) established himself as a regent master of medicine probably at
Montpellier; the Compendium itself McVaugh dates to the 1250s, some
twenty years later than has often been suggested.
Rodney Thomson’s contribution examines the book-purchasing activities
of William Reed, bishop of Chichester (1368–85), whose acquisition of some
536 volumes made him the greatest private collector in fourteenth-century
England. Most of Reed’s books relate to the university curriculum, and it
seems to always have been his purpose to give them away to institutions, pri-

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marily Oxford colleges, where they would be of service to students and fellows. Barbara F. Harvey’s unrivaled familiarity with the Westminster Abbey
muniments is in evidence in her exploration of a significant characteristic of
late-medieval monasticism: the ability of Benedictine monks, with abbatial
permission, to dispose of a certain amount of money (the peculium) for their
own purposes—in the case of senior monks, as much as £8 annually. Harvey
establishes that the Westminster monks might use their peculium—which
they possessed in express contravention of the Rule of St. Benedict—to purchase spices, clothing, books, furnishings, and indulgences, to benefit family
members, or to contribute toward the restoration of the abbey’s fabric.
Siegfried Wenzel’s rather brief essay discusses four formulaic Latin documents
and prayers added to a fifteenth-century English sermon collection, Cambridge University Library, MS Gg.6.26. Although this manuscript has previously been categorized as a friar’s workaday sermon book,Wenzel concludes
that the added texts indicate a probable monastic affiliation for the codex.
The final essay, by Charles F. Briggs, considers manuscript evidence for the
teaching of moral philosophy in England from the later thirteenth through fifteenth centuries. Logic, speculative grammar, and scientific inquiry dominated
the English university curriculum, especially at Oxford, but Briggs demonstrates that Aristotle’s moral philosophical works were repeatedly copied,
commented upon, abbreviated, and indexed by English scholars, providing
material that might then surface in sermons, political texts and speeches, and
books of advice for princes.
The volume ends with a full list of Pfaff’s publications, an index of feasts,
an index of manuscripts, and a general index. It maintains a generally high editorial standard, although there is a scattering of minor errors among the Latin
quotations, abbreviation practices are not always consistent, and there is
divergence in the dating of certain manuscripts between the contributions by
Morgan and Reames. Although the diversity of subject matter makes it difficult to identify a thematic unity running through the volume, there is real substance here, and much that advances and refines our knowledge of medieval
English liturgy and history. The book is a worthy tribute to a superlative
scholar.
University of New Mexico

TIMOTHY GRAHAM

The Transformation of the Irish Church in the Twelfth Century. By Marie
Therese Flanagan. [Studies in Celtic History, XXIX.] (Rochester, NY: The
Boydell Press. 2010. Pp. xii, 295. $99.00. ISBN 978-1-843-83597-4.)
This, the twenty-ninth volume in the prestigious Studies in Celtic History
series, is a worthy addition to the library of anyone interested in medieval
Irish history and in the Irish church’s engagement with the wider European
reform movement.With chapters on sources, medieval dioceses, bishops and
ecclesiastical culture, St. Malachy and monastic reform, the re-formation of lay

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society, and lay piety and devotion, Marie Therese Flanagan traces the development of the Irish church and church practice in the twelfth century in the
course of analyzing the Irish “manifestation of a much wider European phenomenon” (p. xi). Armed with this volume and Ireland and Europe in the
Twelfth Century: Reform and Renewal, ed. Damian Bracken and Dagmar Ó
Riain-Raedel (Portland, OR, 2006), scholars are now well equipped with
broad-based studies of this most important of developments in medieval
Ireland.
Within the volume under review here, the importance of certain individuals to the broader narrative is highlighted and teased out. These include
Cellach of Armagh; Gillebertus of Limerick; and, in particular, St. Malachy—the
chapter devoted to his role in introducing a new monasticism is thorough,
learned, and highly informative. The author makes the interesting observation
(pp. 161–62) that “it is difficult to point to a major pre-twelfth-century
monastery that survived without being transformed into a monastic community following either the Benedictine or Augustinian rules, into a cathedral
church, into a parish church, or disappeared altogether.” This shows how
completely the ecclesiastical landscape was transformed in Ireland during
this period.
In this study, Flanagan has scrutinized an abundance of archaeological,
architectural, hagiographical, historical, and literary sources. One way in
which this study can be extended is by further analysis of an even larger
corpus of relevant Irish-language texts. To take just a few examples: Ruairí Ó
hUiginn’s reading (in Éigse 32) of Tochmarc Emire in the light of the reform
agenda concerning marriage could be drawn upon here; Acallam na
Senórach could be mined further, particularly considering Máire Ní
Mhaonaigh’s treatment (in Ireland and Europe in the Twelfth Century) of its
constituent theological debates; and John de Courcy’s interest in the combined cult of Patrick, Brigid, and Colm Cille in the mid-1180s (discussed on p.
223) also may be reflected in the Acallam (as pointed out by Ann Dooley in
Éigse 34). Furthermore, Immram Snédgusa 7 Maic Ríagla and associated
Columban voyage narratives also are ripe for inclusion in any such study. But
this is work for another day.
A particular issue in dealing with relevant Irish-language sources, however,
is the problem of dating them closely. This often proves impossible to
achieve. Issues raised in a seminal article by Gearóid Mac Eoin (in
Proceedings of the British Academy, 68 [1982]) still remain relevant despite
the advances made in the study of Middle Irish in the interim. This is an issue
for some of the texts analyzed by Flanagan: thus, dating Betha Cholmáin
maic Luacháin so closely (to 1122) is hard to sustain, particularly since the
Life contains discrete linguistic strata; referring to the Acallam as a “midtwelfth-century text” (pp. 23–24) would no longer reflect current thinking
(see Ann Dooley in Éigse 34); and accepting the seventh-century dating of

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Amra Coluim Chille (p. 28) may no longer be tenable in light of the ongoing
work of Jacopo Bisagni. These few examples show how treacherous the
ground is for those wishing to contextualize and utilize Irish-language material within a broader historical framework.
The standard of printing and presentation throughout is high, and only a
small number of mistakes and misprints are evident: thousandth anniversary
(p. xi: recte nine-hundredth anniversary); O’Boyle (p. 29n141/p. 272: recte
Boyle); Breatnach (p. 31n148: recte Bhreathnach); 7-6 (p. 39n20: recte 7-26);
Imar (p. 43: recte Ímar); of Ciaráin (pp. 107/284: recte of Ciarán); Echtigern
(pp. 162/287: recte Echthigern); Visio Tnugdal (p. 180n57: recte Visio
Tnugdali); Finfáidech (p. 225; recte Findfáidech); Murray, “The Cross of
Cong” (p. 272: recte Ó Riain and Murray, ‘The Cross of Cong’ [as at p.
224n147]); Ó Cuiv (p. 273: recte Ó Cuív); Corus Béscnai (p. 286: recte Córus
Béscnai; title is translated differently on pp. 81 and 216). The order of citations within author entries in the bibliography is also inconsistent. A more
serious inconsistency that might cause confusion, however, is the title of the
book. This is given on the cover and on the spine as The Transformation of
the Irish Church in the Twelfth Century, whereas the official title page reads
(incorrectly, one presumes) The Transformation of the Irish Church in the
Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries; this should be rectified in any future
reprint.
However, such caveats aside, this is an important contribution to our
understanding of Ireland in the twelfth century. Flanagan has given us much
food for thought, and her hope—expressed in the introduction—that the
book might open paths for future discussion will surely be realized.
University College Cork

KEVIN MURRAY

Das Augustinerchorherrenstift Bernried. By Walburga Scherbaum. [Germania Sacra: Die Kirche des Alten Reiches und ihre Institutionen, Dritte
Folge, 3: Die Bistümer der Kirchenprovinz Mainz, Das Bistum Augsburg 3.]
(New York:Walter de Gruyter. 2011. Pp. xvi, 504. $225.00. ISBN 978-3-11025182-1.)
There was an Augustinian canon bubble in twelfth-century Bavaria and
Austria. Noble families like the Welfs, Babenbergs, Sulzbachs, and WeyarnFalkensteins and such bishops as Conrad I of Salzburg (1106–47) and
Hartmann of Brixen (1140–64), who were themselves Augustinian canons,
founded collegiate churches to preserve their dynastic memories and/or to
care for souls. Some such as Berchtesgaden—a Sulzbach foundation and
princely provostry (Fürstpropstei), which possessed lucrative salt works—
were wealthy, but Berchtesgaden’s location in what is now a national park
was probably more conducive to the contemplative than the active life. (The
location helps to explain its notoriety in the twentieth century.) The still-func-

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tioning house of Klosterneuburg, upstream from Vienna, benefited from its
ties to its Babenberg benefactors and their Habsburg successors and the fact
that the burial place of the patron saint of Austria, Margrave Leopold III, lay
there. (The twelfth-century masterpiece, the altar of Nicholas of Verdun,
where Leopold’s bones rest, is a major tourist attraction today.) Other houses
like Au and Gars on the Inn River—which owed their existence to a minor
comital house, the Mödlings—were insignificant. Bernried, on the west bank
of the Starnberger see, southwest of Munich, fell into the latter category.
The archives of Bernried, if they ever existed, do not survive; thus, we
know virtually nothing about the church during the Middle Ages. (Bernried
suffered from three major fires, and diocesan visitors and ducal officials criticized the later provosts for their poor record-keeping.) Both the village and
the church, whose name means a place cleared by Bero, were mentioned for
the first time in Pope Calixtus II’s privilege of protection, which copyists
dated November 12 in either 1122 or 1123. The pope granted Bernried
Roman liberty, but not exemption, from the jurisdiction of the bishop of
Augsburg. The founder was Count Otto I of Valley, a member of one branch
of the house of Scheyern-Wittelsbach. Since Valley is situated on the Mangfall,
a tributary of the Inn, we can only speculate why Otto chose a location distant from the heart of his power. Perhaps, it was too close to the rival foundation of Weyarn, but the site may have been part of his wife’s inheritance.
Moreover, Otto was an ally of the Welfs, who were the advocates of the
nearby Augustinian houses of Polling and Rottenbuch, the latter, a major
center for the dissemination of the Augustinian Rule. Bernried provided
refuge in the early 1120s for a number of reformers, most notably Paul of
Bernried (d. 1146/50), Pope Gregory VII’s biographer, who had been forced to
leave Regensburg. Paul procured Calixtus’s privilege and wrote the vita of the
seer Herluca (died c. 1128), who had been chased from Epfach on the Lech
along with the hermit Sigebot, the first provost of Bernried. No cult developed around Herluca, but her example may have inspired the establishment
of a convent of women at Bernried that was mentioned once in 1226. (Many
of the Augustinian churches were double houses.) Upon the death of the last
Valley in 1268, the Wittelsbach dukes of Bavaria acquired the advocacy.
Internal discipline declined in the thirteenth century; for example, a
provost was killed around 1130, under unknown circumstances, by Bernried
retainers. An effort was made to reform the church in the fifteenth century.
The Reformation had minimal repercussions initially, but by 1572 only five
canons lived in the house, and those who served as parish priests had concubines and children. Spanish troops who were quartered in Bernried in
1633–34 did considerable damage. After the Thirty Years War the Wittelsbachs assisted with reconstruction. The canons served as parish priests in
twelve parishes and their chapels, but the income from the tithes did not
cover the cost of maintaining the churches. In the early-modern period the
canons were the sons of craftsmen and minor officials; neither nobles nor

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peasants joined. After 1624 some of them were educated in the Jesuit gymnasium in Munich, and several attended the University of Ingolstadt. Bernried
was never an intellectual or cultural center, but, perhaps not surprisingly in
eighteenth-century Germany, music flourished.
The house received its initial endowment from the Valleys and their vassals and ministerials, but it was always inadequate. For example, in the 1750s
Bernried owned 221 farmable properties, whereas the Augustinians of
Rottenbuch and Dietramszell possessed, respectively, more than 500 and 321
holdings (p. 296).Wittelsbach taxes, special levies, and forced loans added to
Bernried’s distress. French requisitions during the Second Coalition War
(1799–1801) were ruinous. When Bernried was secularized in 1803, it was
one of the five most indebted Bavarian monasteries and collegiate churches
(p. 312). Since then, the former collegiate church has served as the parish
church of St. Martin, and missionary Benedictine nuns have lived since 1949
in the convent buildings.
Walburga Scherbaum, the archivist of the municipality of Bernried, has
assembled meticulously every scrap of information about the church and
organized it in accordance with the standard format of the “Germania Sacra”
(see ante, 96 [2010], 755). Sections 30 and 31, which provide an oversight of
Bernried’s property holdings, income, expenditures, debts, and estate management during the last two centuries of the church’s existence, will be of
most interest to early-modern German historians. No doubt, local historians
and students of the Augustinian canons will find other sections useful, too. In
judging Bernried’s significance, it is important to remember that our economy is not God’s.
Illinois State University

JOHN B. FREED

The Winchcombe and Coventry Chronicles. Hitherto Unnoticed Witnesses to
the Work of John of Worcester: Vol. 1: Introduction and Commentary;Vol.
2: Texts and Translations. Edited and translated by Paul Antony Hayward.
[Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, Vol. 373.] (Tempe: Arizona
Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, Arizona State University.
2010. Pp. xxxiv, 353; iii, 354–750. $140.00. ISBN 978-0-866-98421-8.)
The significance of the annals edited and translated by Paul Antony
Hayward is minor from an historical point of view but rather greater from a
historiographical one. Thus, although they add little to our knowledge of
events in England during the twelfth century, they are potentially more revealing about the practice of writing history then. It is this latter aspect that justifies the expansive presentation of them here—a two-volume set with a combined total of 750 pages, the entirety of the first volume being devoted to
introduction (nearly 200 pages) and commentary (some 150 pages).

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The principal concern of the commentary is to note sources and analogues for individual entries in the chronicles; and, although these occasionally include charters or privileges (notably sub anno 811, the dedication of
Winchcombe church; pp. 251–70), they are principally other chronicles and
annals. The scattered evidence thus furnished is drawn together in the substantial introduction that highlights the facts that the Winchcombe and the
Coventry Annals share a common stock for their entries to 1122, and that
more than 90 percent of this shared material is also to be found in the
Chronica chronicarum of John of Worcester. From this it is deduced: first,
that the Winchcombe and Coventry Annals and John’s depended on the same
source; and second (more daringly) that since the lost source shared “affinities of method, purpose and outlook with the known works of John of
Worcester” (p. 97), it was probably also his work.
The motive imputed to John for the hypothetical text was “to reach out to
a new and different audience from that which was likely to use Chronica
chronicarum or Chronicula” (p. 97), a proposition that rests on, and supports, Hayward’s analysis of the functions of annals more generally (chapter
1). Rather than representing a more primitive form of history writing than
chronicles, they met a different need, here identified as pedagogical—annalistic world chronicles, it is argued, were teaching tools (pp. 37–41). This in
turn explains why the manuscripts in which such texts appear may be “booklets or collections of a humble kind . . . their format and their sometimes
scruffy aspect is aptly explained by the hypothesis that they are teaching
texts” (p. 43).
Notwithstanding the complexity of the material, the arguments are set out
with masterful clarity. At each step, the reasoning seems cogent and the conclusion plausible. The fact that the evidence on which they are based is scattered through 500 pages of apparatus and notes—not to mention across other
texts and editions altogether—means that it is virtually impossible for a
reviewer to deconstruct them. However, in general terms the inevitability of
the conclusion diminishes with each of the steps, as summarized above. This
summary, it should be noted, reverses the order in which the ideas are presented by the author, who starts with the hypothesis that annals were teaching tools. Now, there is an element of “chicken and egg” in such a premise, for
do annals appear in such contexts because they were actually teaching tools,
or rather because “schoolmasters” were the most likely members of a community to have the interest, skills, opportunity, and possibly even the formal
responsibility to contemplate earlier annals and to record new ones?
In sum, this is an impressive edition with a thorough and thoughtful introduction that not only explicates the significance of the Winchcombe and
Coventry Chronicles and their relationship to the literary culture of
Worcester, but raises important issues about annal writing in general, with
suggestions that now need to be tested in relation to other examples. One

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looks forward to the appearance of further installments of the “larger project,
the subject of which is the great outburst of historical activity that took place
in England after the Norman Conquest” (p. xi), of which the present study is
apparently but part. Alongside recent works such as Dauvit Broun and Julian
Harrison’s “stratigraphic” edition of the Melrose Chronicle (Rochester, NY,
2007), the present study embodies a welcome change in the sophistication
with which the annals and chronicles of individual religious houses are analyzed and published.
Durham University

RICHARD GAMESON

Crusade, Heresy and Inquisition in the Lands of the Crown of Aragon (c.
1167–1276). By Damian J. Smith. [The Medieval and Early Modern Iberian
World, Vol. 39.] (Leiden: Brill. 2010. Pp. xii, 249. $138.00. ISBN 978-9-00418289-9.)
This is a very useful book, meeting as it does the author’s goal of giving
attention to the relatively neglected subjects identified in the title. Not neglected individually—crusade, heresy, and inquisition are always in fashion, and
the Crown of Aragon can hardly be said to have suffered historiographically
in recent decades. But as people who write on the themes in question usually
focus on different regions, and people who write on the region in question
usually focus on different themes, the book addresses several needs. The
author recounts his histories and analyzes his key texts in a readable and
occasionally stylish fashion, grounding his work firmly in intelligent readings
of the sources, backed by reference to the most recent scholarship. The
book’s main weakness is that its various parts—strong individually—never
really cohere. There is a bigger story here that remains to be told.
After a brief introduction that presents the book’s subjects and addresses
some of the sources and earlier scholarship, the book unfolds in five chapters.
Chapters 1 and 2 focus on political history, particularly the rhythms of the
involvement of Catalonia-Aragon in the lands north of the Pyrenees and their
dynamic relationship to peninsular affairs before, during, and after the
Albigensian Crusade—how, in short,“the restoration of Christian Spain influenced the history of what was to become France” (p. 4). The author argues
strongly for the significance of the Battle of Muret in 1212 as a real turning
point in the shared history of northeastern Iberia and southern Francia.
Indeed, the two chapters serve as an admirably lucid account of that complex
history, one that offers equal time to Catalonian, Aragonese, and various
Occitanian interests. Chapter 3 turns to religious history. The author analyzes
the controversial evidence for the 1167 heretical council of Saint-Félix, with
its apparent references to the Crown of Aragon. There follows a series of subregional analyses of heresy in the Crown in the thirteenth century, rounded
out by a discussion of an antiheretical tract of Lucas, bishop of Túy. Chapter 4
focuses on the career and works (Liber Antiheresis, c. 1191–92; Liber contra

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Manicheos, c. 1222–23) of Durán of Huesca, an early associate of Valdes of
Lyon and then leader of the Poor Catholics. He makes the point that the
Waldensians were, in the Crown, both more of a concern and more of a real
threat than the dualist heretics who attract all the attention. Chapter 5 turns
to the early history of the papal inquisition in the Crown, from the earliest
royal antiheretical legislation of the 1190s through the statutes of Tarragona
in 1234 and 1242 that introduced the inquisition, to later evidence for the
inquisition in practice. The author pays particular attention to the thought
and direct influence of St. Ramon de Penyafort.
The political and religious histories told here are obviously intertwined,
and clear points of contact appear throughout the book, but they do not
ground an extended argument. The author was (and remains) in a position to
make more ambitious claims about the impact of heresy on politics and politics on heresy in this region. His take would be important and novel precisely
because of the skill with which he integrates historiographically distinct
areas. A related merit of the book is the way in which the geographical
framework decenters Barcelona: Urgell, Lleida, and Tarragona come across as
more significant, a fact that other historians of the region would do well to
keep in mind. Readers of this journal, however, are likely to find most valuable
the fact that the book adduces unfamiliar evidence for some of the central
themes in medieval church history.
Columbia University

ADAM J. KOSTO

Paris, 1200. By John W. Baldwin. (Stanford: Stanford University Press. 2010. Pp.
xii, 289. $65.00 clothbound, ISBN 978-0-804-76271-7; $24.95 paperback,
ISBN 978-0-804-77205-5.)
I loved this book. In it, one of the great scholars of medieval French history brings to bear a lifetime of inquiry and knowledge in a 250-page volume
that is at once an introduction (in that it can be read by laymen, students, or
non-French historians) and a work of consummate scholarship (in that it has
nothing of a survey’s simplicity or reductiveness). In his preface to the
American edition, John Baldwin explains that, inspired by the millennial celebrations of 2000, he set out to write about Paris in 1200 for a French (“lay”)
audience. Its success in France led to this English edition. The delightful conceit of the book is to focus on the year 1200—with a decade’s leeway to
each side and a laser focus on Paris—and, by doing so, to strip away the accumulated layers of “backward” reading that often comes with treatments of
medieval Paris that end up relying so heavily on later sources. The result, for
me, was disarming. The year 1200 seems comparatively late in the great
developments of medieval culture and politics.Yet, in 1200, the cathedral of
Notre Dame was unfinished. The university was not yet established. The conquests against King John and his allies were in the future. The mendicants
had not yet arrived. As I was reading, I felt as if I was being led, gently,

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through Baldwin’s own scholarly career: Chapter 1 drawing on Masters,
Princes, and Merchants (Princeton, 1970); chapter 3 drawing on The
Government of Philip Augustus (Berkeley, 1986); chapter 5 drawing on The
Scholastic Culture of the Middle Ages (Lexington, MA, 1971); chapter 6
drawing on The Language of Sex (Chicago, 1994). Two individuals dominate
the narrative: Pierre the Chanter (as he is referred to here and whose writings are often the jumping-off point for this or that discussion) and Philip
Augustus, whose reign spanned in each direction beyond the parameters
established here. Baldwin even has them meet and talk in chapter 2. I recognize Baldwin’s scholarship at every turn. And I was hence surprised by
the impact of bringing the pieces all together, in dialogue with each other,
around the table of the year 1200. I will, perforce, continue to consult his
other works, but this book will be a standard reference for me henceforth,
and I will certainly use it in the classroom.
Baldwin opens by looking at the events that the chronicles “like newspapers today . . . broadcast with banner headlines” (p. 2): The Interdict imposed
for the marital troubles of Philip Augustus, the peace treaty between King
John and Philip that followed the sudden death of Richard the Lionheart, and
the skirmish between students and bourgeoisie on the left bank. Chapter 1,
“The City and Its Bourgeoisie,” treats the topography and social makeup of
Paris, using Philip’s building of the great wall as a way to unpack the different
social and economic forces of the turn of the century. The second chapter,
“Faces and Hidden Visages,” introduces Pierre the Chanter and Philip
Augustus, and discusses the role and image of women at the time (the “hidden
faces”). Chapter 3, “King Philip and His Government,” is a recapitulation of
Baldwin’s 1986 book. Chapter 4, on “The Church, Clergy, and Religious Life,”
takes Notre-Dame as its center and ranges from façade iconography to
preaching. Chapter 5, “The Schools,” offers essentially a case study on the
development of the Cathedral Schools, the masters, the politics, the curriculum, and the pedagogy. Chapter 6, “Delight and Pain,” treats—rapidly—royal
ceremony, marriage and sex, heresy, and crusade, always through recourse to
events in Paris and the writers of Parisian masters and preachers. The epilogue, “Raising the Roof” (of Notre-Dame), sweeps through the events and
achievements of the thirteenth century.
I will end by quoting one of my favorite of many takeaway “tidbits,” this
one appearing in the epilogue: “The American medievalist Charles Homer
Haskins used to affirm to his classroom that St. Louis was a luxury that France
could afford only because of Philip Augustus” (p. 247). And this book shows
us why.
Dartmouth College

M. CECILIA GAPOSCHKIN

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Heresy and Heretics in the Thirteenth Century:The Textual Representations.
By L. J. Sackville. [Heresy and Inquisition in the Middle Ages, Vol. 1.]
(Rochester, NY:York Medieval Press in association with Boydell & Brewer.
2011. Pp. xii, 224. $90.00. ISBN 978-1-903-15336-9.)
In this concise work, L. J. Sackville has offered us a comprehensive
overview of the anti-heretical literature of the central Middle Ages. Without
becoming bogged down in various debates, Sackville has made available an
exceptionally useful descriptive guide that takes the reader on a tour among
inquisitional literature, registers, legal texts, and antiheretical tracts. All of this
is bound together with an interesting textual study of various themes found
in these works.
Her introduction is a good and up-to-date account of recent heresy scholarship. After making the obligatory nods to R. I. Moore and Mark Pegg—who
see only power relations and artificial constructions of heresy in church-affiliated texts—she then proceeds to treat the sources themselves. In her first
chapter, Sackville offers a lively overview of antiheretical literature; and she
traces the new sobriety in thirteenth-century texts, as they move away from
tired tropes about heresy and into the field of serious analysis. She perhaps
makes too much of the distinction between lay and clerical antiheresy tracts,
since even the clerical ones, especially that of St. Peter of Verona, can get very
polemical.
She next moves into a brief presentation of conciliar and legal texts, which
is quite useful. Especially interesting is her roundup of legal opinions and consultations about the various canonical and civil issues that crop up with
regard to heresy. In most cases, legal opinions seemed to conform with lay
feelings toward heresy. What was important was not what a person believed,
but rather how he acted. The interaction with the community gave the necessary clues for implication in a heretical movement.
Although her examination of inquisitorial registers themselves is brief, her
investigation of inquisition manuals is far more extensive, with a systematic
breakdown of their various approaches to heresy. One wishes that there
would have been more consideration of various hagiographical sources,
including lesser-known saints, as well as a discussion of antiheretical sermons
of the 1200s; however her focus on inquisition-specific literature allows a
deeper analysis of the sources she does cover.
This is a well-written and -edited book. There are very few errors. Footnote
106 is missing from page 40; and the letter from the cardinals (p. 80n153) was
written in the papal interregnum after the murder of the Avignnonet inquisitors in 1242 and not after the death of Peter of Verona. Otherwise, this is an
exceptionally well-researched and -presented book, touched with unexpected hints of humor such as the index reference to “cheeky monkeys.”

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Sackville brings all of her previous readings of antiheretical texts to bear
in chapter 5, which offers a textual examination of various ways in which
ecclesiastical writers sought to understand heresy. In the end, Sackville shows
a remarkable respect for her sources and subjects, churchman and heretic
alike:
[A] reading that sees the heresy represented in the Catholic tradition as
entirely and deliberately constructed has to deny the range and variety of
the surviving corpus of material in order to do so. . . [W]hile the contents
(of the literature) are affected by central ideas, they are not invented by
them. (pp. 198–99)
This is a healthy breath of fresh air in a field dominated by deconstruction to the point of wholesale denial of evidence. Sackville’s work will be
useful to both researchers and students, providing a finding guide and
descriptive assessment of particular late-twelfth- and thirteenth-century
inquisitional literature.
Jacksonville State University

DONALD PRUDLO

Jakob von Vitrys »Vita Mariae Oigniacensis«: Zu Herkunft und Eigenart der
ersten Beginen. By Vera von der Osten-Sacken. [Veröffentlichungen des
Instituts für Europäische Geschichte Mainz: Abteilung für Abendländische
Religionsgeschichte, Band 223.] (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht.
2010. Pp. 270. €49,95. ISBN 978-3-525-10102-5.)
This work was accepted as a doctoral dissertation by the theological faculty at the University of Göttingen in 2008. After a survey of the relevant literature, the study is divided into three main parts: the author, James of Vitry
(d. 1240); the structure, date, genre, purpose, and audience of the Vita (written 1215); and the spirituality represented in the Vita. The author’s thesis is
that James de Vitry and his heroine, Blessed Mary of Oignies (d. 1213), were
deeply influenced by the pastoral aims of the circle of the Parisian master,
Peter the Chanter, and developed a form of urban, female, and lay spirituality
that emphasized imitatio of and compassio for the suffering Christ and service to the sick.
The author develops her thesis in an orderly and thorough fashion. She
describes pastoral reforms advocated by Peter the Chanter and his associates,
which reached Marie and the other holy women of Brabant directly or indirectly through preachers like James of Vitry and Fulk of Neuilly, and others
such as John of Nivelles. Their preaching aimed at penitence and reform and
was strongly critical of usury, banking, and clerical negligence. Mary of
Oignies and her husband, whose families seem to have been well-off members of the commercial class of Nivelles, gave away their wealth and for at
least a decade and probably longer served the sick in a leper hospital in
Willambrouck near Nivelles. They lived together as brother and sister until

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around 1207 when Mary took up residence on the grounds of the monastery
of Augustinian Canons at Oignies, founded in 1187 by Giles of Walcourt and
his family. Shortly after Mary went to Oignies, James of Vitry interrupted his
studies at Paris and joined the community there. He came under Mary’s influence and became a strong advocate of the mulieres religiosae.
In the author’s account, Mary and other mulieres religiosae heeded the
reform preachers’ call to conversion from lives stained by ill-gotten wealth,
followed the naked Christ, embraced his sufferings in their own bodies, and
served his suffering brothers and sisters. They then spent the final years of
their lives in prayer and contemplation accompanied by mystical experience,
but without becoming professed religious. James of Vitry wrote the Vita primarily to counter lay and critical criticisms of the mulieres religiosae and to
gain the support of his clerical peers for this new way of life as well as to offer
examples to inspire them to more dedicated pastoral ministry and to use in
popular preaching.
Although much of what the author writes will be familiar to those who
know the life of Mary of Oignies, they will certainly find new ideas and information. She is especially good at placing the Vita in its historical context. For
example, the section on service to the sick is well done and helps redress the
overemphasis on Mary’s last years in both James of Vitry’s Vita and the
Supplement to it by Thomas of Cantimpré. The author is nonjudgmental and
is not under the spell of any particular critical theory. That is refreshing, but
it also means she does not engage with some issues of interest to Englishspeaking feminist scholars. It is therefore helpful to read this book in conjunction with the introduction by Anneke Mulder-Bakker to Mary of Oignies,
Mother of Salvation (Turnhout, 2006).Vera von der Osten-Sacken’s bibliography, which does not include works by Caroline Bynum or Walter Simons,
extends to about 2003, although an appendix makes use of Suzan Folkert’s
study in Mulder-Bakker’s volume of the manuscript tradition of the Vita
Mariae. The manuscripts indicate a strong interest in Mary’s Vita among
Cistercians, a group that James de Vitry seems to have wanted to win over to
support of the mulieres religiosae.
Monastery of the Ascension
Jerome, ID

HUGH FEISS, O.S.B.

The Gibraltar Crusade: Castile and the Battle for the Strait. By Joseph F.
O’Callaghan. [The Middle Ages Series.] (Philadelphia: University of
Pennsylvania Press. 2011. Pp. xvi, 376. $55.00. ISBN 978-0-812-24302-4.)
Joseph F. O’Callaghan continues to build on his impressive body of work
over the last two decades, taking on the subject of the Guerra del Estrecho
(War for the Strait of Gibraltar), which concerned Castile, Aragon, Portugal,
Granada, and Morocco between 1250 and 1350. Although this is familiar ter-

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365

rain for Iberian specialists, the subject has received far less attention from
other researchers, especially in the Americas. In a style that is now familiar,
O’Callaghan begins with a geographical and political overview of the principal actors in the struggle for control of the Strait of Gibraltar before starting
his accounts of the manifold conflicts during the reigns of Alfonso X the
Learned (1252–84), Sancho IV (1284–95), Fernando IV (1295–1312), and
Alfonso XI (1312–50). As such, he demolishes the notion, still current in some
circles, that the Reconquest had stalled after the first half of the thirteenth
century and only awaited its final resolution in the late-fifteenth century. In
fact, the southern part of Spain—with the port cities of Cadiz, Tarifa, Algeciras,
Gibraltar, Malaga, and Almeria, among others—was one of the most conflicted
areas of the time, drawing constant attention and massive resources from all
the kingdoms surrounding it and exposing the local populations to the constant threat and trauma of warfare. The author also covers in detail the tangled diplomatic web accompanying this conflict. Each of the rulers, as well as
significant factions within each kingdom, pursued their self-interests regardless of religion and ideology, creating a complicated and ever-changing set of
alliances that always defied easy explanation or categorization.
This study, however, succeeds in both presenting the struggle, weaving in
its manifold characters, circumstances, and elements—especially the issue of
religion and crusading—in a way that is accessible to the reader, but never
oversimplified. In addition to detailing how the Moroccan Marinid regime’s
peninsular ambitions were finally demolished through their defeat at the
battle of Salado (1340) and the capture of Algeciras (1344) under Alfonso XI,
how Granada slowly became more isolated, and how Castile assumed an
ascendant role in the area, he is also careful to cover the many Christian initiatives that failed such as the concurrent siege of Algeciras and Almeria
respectively by Fernando IV and James II of Aragon (1291–1327) in 1309;
Castile’s loss of Gibraltar in 1333 and its inability to recover it; and the civil
wars that enveloped Castile, Granada, and Morocco at various stages of this
century-long struggle. If anything, this will undoubtedly stimulate interest and
debate among specialists and nonspecialists alike.
Another of this work’s particularly important contribution is the chapter
“Waging the Crusade of Gibraltar,” which, until a full-length study of the subject is published, is one of the best outlines in English of the Castilian military
system in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. It takes into account the
latest research and delves into areas as diverse as the sinews of warfare, but
also its social and ideological aspects and the ever-present element of the crusade, with its religious, ideological, and financial dimensions. This should provoke excitement among military historians and help stimulate new research
on the subject.
With the breadth of his knowledge and ability to harness so many
diverse sources, O’Callaghan has again highlighted yet another important

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period of Iberian history, and the fields of Hispanic and medieval studies are
richer for it.
Long Island University—Brooklyn

NICOLÁS AGRAIT

Inquisitors and Heretics in Thirteenth-Century Languedoc. Edition and
Translation of Toulouse Inquisition Depositions, 1273–1282. Edited by
Peter Biller, Caterina Bruschi, and Shelagh Sneddon. [Studies in the History
of Christian Traditions,Vol. 147.] (Leiden: Brill. 2011. Pp. xvi, 1088. $209.00.
ISBN 978-9-004-18810-5.)
Deposited in the Bibliothèque Nationale is a vast collection of 258 volumes containing copies of documents from Languedoc, created in the seventeenth century under the supervision of Jean de Doat at the behest of
Colbert, Louis XIV’s chief minister. Colbert was primarily interested in maintaining the rights of the Crown, but, for modern historians, the great benefit
has been the preservation of swathes of documents that would otherwise
have been lost. The Doat copies are by no means perfect, but they are good
enough to enable the publication of this fine edition of volumes 25 and 26
containing depositions made in Toulouse between 1273 and 1282, mostly
before Pons of Parnac and Ranulph of Plassac. The production of the original registers was, in part, the consequence of a crackdown led by King Philip
III, following the death of Alphonse of Poitiers in 1271, when the lands concerned fell to the Crown. A minor revival of Catharism in the 1260s, together
with a revolt by Roger-Bernard III, count of Foix, in 1272, reinforced the
king’s desire to assert his rights. The editors have two audiences in mind—
first, specialists in heresy and the history of the Inquisition, for whom they
have reproduced as literal a version as possible; and second, readers who
might wish to learn more about these subjects but lack the expertise to use
the Doat copies more directly, for whom there is a parallel English translation. The translation will be particularly attractive to undergraduates planning dissertations, as it offers the possibility of studies in depth of some of
the many human stories to be found here, as well as presenting an intriguing
methodological challenge.
The material has rich potential. The inquiries took place during what is
now realized to have been a period of transition, since the institutional outlines of the Inquisition were beginning to emerge, culminating in the more
developed structure that can be seen in the early-fourteenth century. These
documents show that, by the 1270s, this had already become a formalized
organization with extensive archives, designated buildings and prisons, and
proper finances. The depositions themselves were set out by experienced
notaries, usually in a predetermined and carefully constructed pattern.
Outside witnesses added another dimension, especially if a particularly
important deponent was appearing, when their numbers and status
increased. The identity of such witnesses was important, for their very pres-

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367

ence could influence the outcome of the interrogation. Thus not only the
content but also the actual structure of the deposition is crucial to the understanding of its historical significance. This does not, of course, exhaust the
possibilities. The impact of the campaigns against heresy had, by this time,
forced the Cathar hierarchy into exile in Lombardy, from where they kept
contact with supporters in Languedoc through a system of ductores, who
made their living carrying messages and money and escorting believers along
the connecting routes. One of these, Peter Maurel of Auriac, much of whose
career can be reconstructed from these depositions, was finally apprehended
in 1274 after operating for at least nineteen years. Moreover, a significant prerequisite of such a system was the existence of a Cathar church in Lombardy,
many of whose leaders are mentioned in these depositions, which seems to
contradict some recent views that suggest the Cathars never created such a
structure.
This is an important collection, edited with great professionalism, with an
informative introduction, detailed annotation, a calendar of depositions, and
excellent indexes, all of which make the handing of the material so much
easier and effective.
University of Reading

MALCOLM BARBER

The Embodied Word: Female Spiritualities, Contested Orthodoxies, and
English Religious Cultures, 1350–1700. By Nancy Bradley Warren.
[ReFormations: Medieval and Early Modern.] (Notre Dame: University of
Notre Dame Press. 2010. Pp. xi, 339. $36.00 paperback. ISBN 978-0-26804420-6.)
Warren’s provocative work highlights previously unexplored aspects and
influences of English female religiosity in medieval and early-modern Europe.
Warren reads medieval and early-modern texts in “conversation with each
other” (p. 20), and she joins some authors unexpectedly in this exchange of
ideas such as the medieval mystic Julian of Norwich matched with Protestant
Grace Mildmay and English Benedictine nuns living in exile on the continent
in the seventeenth century. Holy bodies, Warren emphasizes, have power.
This power can inhere in individuals and communities and be transmitted
through the bodies themselves; texts about those bodies; and usage of these
texts for a variety of purposes both religious and nonreligious, from the
medieval to the early-modern era.
Warren crafts her analysis around four variations of understanding embodiment, which she terms incarnational piety, incarnational epistemology,
incarnational textuality, and incarnational politics. Although the usage of
the terms may force the reader to flip back in the text to ascertain their precise meanings, Warren’s interpretive framework is sound. She carries it
through her work deftly, calling readers’ attention to how different aspects of
embodiment work together and build upon one another in the lives, beliefs,

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texts, and actions of her subjects. These embodiments impact not just the
lives of these women and their spiritual communities but also larger local,
national, and international identities.
Warren’s work builds on historical scholarship on embodiment and
women’s religiosity such as Caroline Bynum’s as well as studies of specific
women or groups of women such as David Wallace’s work on Luisa de
Carvajal and Caroline Bowden’s on English female religious communities in
exile.Warren also advances study of English women writers’ contributions to
social, religious, and political concerns of their day, extending the insights of
scholars such as Carole Levin, Frances Dolan, and Katherine Gillespie. What
distinguishes Warren’s work is her attempt to nuance our understanding of
artificial boundaries and deceptive binaries in our interpretations of women’s
religiosity. She integrates Catholic with Protestant, medieval with early
modern, body with spirit, experience with knowledge, and individual with
community to enhance our perceptions of how such categories work
together, informing and transforming one another. Changes in female spirituality, thus, are often not what we expect. The conversation Warren creates
between medieval mystic Margery Kempe and Protestant prophet Anna
Trapnel, for example, demonstrates how religious women’s strategies to
create female authority bridge traditional Catholic/Protestant and medieval/
early-modern divides by emphasizing Kempe’s and Trapnels’s similar understandings of their relationships with Christ, centered in the body. These are
often complex and ambiguous relationships that Warren tries to tease out, but
she succeeds more often than not in convincing the reader that such relationships exist and are worthy of exploration in greater depth.
In a rare weakness,Warren’s final chapter on early-modern men’s writings
would benefit from a stronger segue from Warren’s earlier examinations of
incarnational politics, since she seeks to use such male-authored texts to
describe political and cultural uses of medieval history and female spirituality
that reinforce or deny English political legitimacy and shape national identity.
Despite the rough transition, Warren’s contrast of Robert Parsons’s writings
with Thomas Robinson’s The Anatomie of the English Nunnery in Lisbon in
Portugal (London, 1622) is one of her most persuasive. Finally, a conclusion
and bibliography would strengthen this work’s impact and usefulness for
advanced scholars.
Although, occasionally, dense prose can make this work a slow read, and
Warren sometimes pushes an interpretation too far—such as asserting that in
Kempe’s and Trapnel’s writings we see “something like a textual version of
the doctrine of real presence at work,” claiming that these texts “are Christ”
and that textual lives are “sacramental documents” (p. 172)—Warren succeeds
in demonstrating the important connections between women’s physical/textual corpus and interwoven religio-political events of this era.
Boise State University

LISA MCCLAIN

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369

Parisian Licentiates in Theology, A.D. 1373–1500: A Biographical Register.
Vol. II: The Secular Clergy. By Thomas Sullivan, O.S.B. [Education and
Society in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, Vol. 37.] (Leiden: Brill. 2011.
Pp. xii, 636. $255.00. ISBN 978-9-004-20270-2.)
The work under consideration is the second volume of Thomas Sullivan’s
prosopographical study of Parisian graduates in theology from the years 1373–
1500. This volume concerns itself with the secular licentiates in theology.
Modern interest in identifying the actual graduates of the theological faculty of the medieval University of Paris began with the four-volume
Chartularium universitatis parisiensis of Heinrich Denifle and Émile
Chatelain (Paris, 1889–97) and continued with Palémon Glorieux’s twovolume study of the Parisian theological masters in the thirteenth century,
Répertoire des maîtres en théologie de Paris au XIII e siècle (Paris, 1933–34).
More recently, James Farge has pionereed the biographical study of sixteenthcentury Parisian theologians in his Biographical Register of Paris Doctors of
Theology, 1500–1536 (Toronto, 1980). In the last decade, detailed and
thoughtful studies both by William Courtenay and James Farge have provided
scholars with a better description of the Parisian academic community and its
milieu within the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries respectively. Sullivan’s
earlier prosopographical study of Benedictine monks at the University of
Paris from 1229 to 1500 (New York, 1995) identified and provided valuable
biographical information about Benedictine and Cluniac monks who
attended the University of Paris during that time period.
As his chief source for the present volume, Sullivan utilizes the Registrum
Facultatis theologiae. Ordo licentiatorum 1373–1694, found in the manuscript Paris, BnF ms lat 5657-A and compiled by Philip Bouvot, beadle of the
Parisian Faculty of Theology in the seventeenth century. This work presents
a biographical register of 461 secular clerics licensed in theology from 1373
to 1500.
Sullivan begins his study with a detailed discussion of Bouvot’s register
and then examines the most useful reference sources for the University of
Paris, its Faculty of Theology, and its colleges for the period under review. He
next presents a chronological list of all theological graduates, both secular
and religious, totaling 1044 names (pp. 9–44). The bulk of the work is a biographical register of the secular graduates in theology arranged alphabetically.
What follows is a detailed biographical survey of each graduate, providing
variations in the form and spelling of his name. He then notes the date of the
graduate’s licensing ceremony, the rank earned by the individual within the
total number of students graduating within his licentiate class, and the date
when the individual was magistratus as a master of theology. Sullivan next
identifies the geographical origin of the licentiate and, through his detailed

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biographical study, is able to place each licentiate within a meaningful historical context. Following the entry for each licentiate is a bibliography of his
writings and the sources for that bibliography. Sullivan also has included two
appendices; one arranges the secular licentiati according to their first name,
whereas the second organizes them according to their college affiliation.
What Sullivan has compiled here is an extremely useful reference tool for
historians of the University of Paris. He has filled a large lacuna in the historical scholarship by first identifying the names of the secular graduates in theology of the University of Paris for the last quarter of the fourteenth century
and all of the fifteenth century, and then providing them with a thorough and
scholarly biographical analysis. Sullivan’s work—in the tradition of Glorieux,
Farge, and Courtenay—will remain one the standard reference manuals for
anyone studying the Parisian Faculty of Theology in the medieval and earlymodern periods.
Southeastern Louisiana University

ANDREW G. TRAVER

Lodovico Pontano (ca. 1409–1439): Eine Juristenkarriere an Universität,
Fürstenhof, Kurie und Konzil. By Thomas Woelki. [Education and Society
in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, Vol. 38.] (Leiden: Brill. 2011. Pp. xiv,
936. $318.00. ISBN 978-9-004-19471-7.)
When Lodovico Pontano died in Basel in 1439, he was little more than
thirty years old. Despite his comparative youth, Pontano was a trained jurist
who had taught at universities, served in the Roman Curia, and represented
King Alphonso V of Aragon at the Council of Basel (1431–49). Pontanto
emerges from this study as a talented young man whose services were in
demand and who pursued his opportunities. He received his doctorate in
Bologna and spent a few years in Florence (1428–31). Then he joined the
Curia as an auditor of the Rota (1431–33) before removing to Siena
(1433–36). In 1436 he was brought into the service of Alphonso. Pontano
already had ties with the humanist Antonio Beccadellia (Panormita), who was
in the king’s service in Naples. Shortly thereafter, Alphonso sent him to Basel
to work together with the canonist Nicolaus de Tudeschis (Panormitanus).
They were not harmonious partners. Moreover, both found their support of
the council against the pope constrained by Alphonso’s unwillingness to
back the deposition of Eugenius. Nonetheless, Pontano served the council on
missions, especially when the assembly was resisting transfer by Pope
Eugenius to the city of Ferrara to meet with the emperor ( John VIII
Paleologus) and the representatives of the Greek church. Pontano might have
played a major role in Basel’s further conflicts with Eugenius, but mortality
overtook him. The jurist was reported to have stayed in Basel in hope of being
made a cardinal by Felix V, the pope elected by the council to replace
Eugenius IV (r. 1431–47). Instead, he died in an outbreak of plague. Pontano
left behind a considerable body of legal writings and polemics addressing

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aspects of the struggle between pope and council. Although not the author
of any new doctrines, Pontano was a capable jurist cut down in his prime.
Thomas Woelki has provided Pontano with a massive study of his career
based on both printed and archival sources. The book includes editions of ten
short works written between 1436 and 1438. These document the jurist’s
role at Basel and representing the council in Savoy, Cologne, and Burgundy.
The texts make occasional references to the Bible and classical authors, but
they mostly draw upon Roman and canon law. The book is buttressed with a
thorough listing of Pontano’s works in manuscript and print. The list of works
includes commentaries, repetitiones (expositions of individual texts), singularia (brief expositions of particular points of law), tracts on legal topics, consilia (opinions about specific cases), speeches, and polemics. Pontano’s
Singularia were his best-known legal writings. The book makes use of these
texts to find biographical details as well as for evidence of Pontano’s teaching
of law, his application of it to cases, and the positions taken by the jurist in
the conciliar crisis of the mid-fifteenth century.Woelki has found manuscripts
of Pontano’s writings in repositories as far apart as Berkeley, Ghent, Cortona,
and Berlin. The book also has an extensive bibliography of related literature.
The resulting volume gives Pontano a thorough, relentless treatment from
cradle to grave. Few medieval jurists have been as well served.
THOMAS M. IZBICKI

Rutgers University
Early Modern European

Papal Justice: Subjects and Courts in the Papal State, 1500–1750. By Irene
Fosi. Translated by Thomas V. Cohen. (Washington, DC: The Catholic
University of America Press. 2011. Pp. xiv, 272. $29.95 paperback. ISBN
978-0-813-21858-8.)
In these last thirty years studies on the Papal State during the sixteenth
and eighteenth centuries have brought to light results with an intensity never
experienced before. The institutions and social life that characterized the
multiform realities of the Papal State have been the object of much research,
especially after the publication of Paolo Prodi’s The Papal Prince: One Body
and Two Souls (Bologna, 1982; trans. New York, 1987), which opened the
way to this fertile historiographical period.
The existence of Italian regional states in a European context characterized by absolute and centralized monarchies has been strictly connected
with the role of the papacy in maintaining balance among the Italian states.
The main area of interests for scholars in these last three decades has been
the relationships and conflicts among the institutions of the Papal State, an
absolute nonhereditary monarchy in which the demands of a state in construction had somehow to go hand in hand with the supra-national nature
of religion.

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Much attention has been given to the role of the institutions of justice and
public order. The works of Irene Fosi on this topic have been substantial and
based on an unrivaled range of sources. In La società violenta (Rome, 1985),
the author concentrated on the role of the nobility in the origins of banditry,
also interpreted as a form of hostile action against the control of the territory
by the state. In All’ombra dei Barberini. Fedeltà e servizio nella Roma
barocca (1997) she examined the separation of the role of the cardinalnephew—a position intrinsically linked to the personal nature of power—
from that of secretary of state, a position in the framework of an impersonal
administration. Moreover, the author has written various essays and edited
collections on the papal judicial system.
With this work, the author presents scholars with a general picture of justice at the time of the papacy, which now can be appreciated by American
scholars. She also includes additional material on Niccolò Orsini, third count
of Nola and Pitigliano (pp. 92–99); conclusions; and an extensive bibliography.
The book presents for the first time an overview of the papal justice
system in which the many conflicts are examined vis-à-vis their effects on
the organization as well as on the control of the territory and personal conscience. Furthermore, the effects of the multiplicity and overlapping of the
innumerable courts throughout the territory—particularly in Rome—are
examined, confirming conclusions from numerous studies about this
period: The competition among different courts gave justice a functional
elasticity that fit the dominant, hegemonic justice of the state to the interests of the elite.
Written in a clear style, which is faithfully maintained in this translation,
the book analyzes the principal aspects of reforms, in particular that of 1612.
What emerges is that the control on the judiciary was essential to separate
personal interests from the administration of justice, corrupt in its conduct
and inclined to find a settlement between parties—useful to the tribunals and
as an instrument of discipline. This leads the author to claim that it is not possible to speak of “administration,” a concept that evokes coherence and rationality, but rather a justice strongly oriented to become “an instrument of social
control and a device for political uniformity” (p. 16). The objective of that justice was extremely difficult to accomplish—controlling the “restless nobles”
had to coexist with respecting their privileges; the overcoming of private justice and vendetta led to courts full of informers, law enforcement officials, ex
officio procedures, and a vast array of retributive laws and regulations that
were used to prosecute nobles only when they represented a threat to the
sovereign. Thus, this machinery most often involved only the common people
and worked on a double track—as a cruel deterrent and a profitable extrajudiciary activity. There were very delicate situations such as the need to control conflicts within families and the conduct of the clergy, who typically fell
under the jurisdiction of bishops but often was at odds with the Inquisition.

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In this regard, the author has presented a very realistic picture based on the
vast range of cases examined from court documents.
Pertaining to the relationship between sin and crime, the author portrays
the Inquisition as a dominant entity that controlled consciences and imposed
discipline, showing that the boundary between the “foro interno” and the
“foro esterno” was very subtle. The same areas were sources of conflict
among European powers.
Archivio di Stato di Roma

MICHELE DI SIVO

Simone Porzio: Un aristotelico tra natura e grazia. By Eva Del Soldato.
[Istituto Nazionale di Studi sul Rinascimento, Centuria, 6.] (Rome: Edizioni
di Storia e Letteratura. 2010. Pp. xvi, 332. €42,00 paperback. ISBN 978-8863-72275-8.)
Modern scholarship has viewed Simone Porzio (1496–1554) as an
Aristotelian follower of Pomponazzi, who held that reason alone could not
demonstrate the immortality of the human soul. In this monograph Eva Del
Soldato examines his writings in detail, including works available only in manuscript, to demonstrate that Porzio was a richer and more complex thinker.
Born in Naples, Porzio studied with Agostino Nifo and obtained doctorates
of arts and medicine in 1520 and theology in 1522 at the University of Pisa.
He taught at the University of Pisa until 1525, then natural philosophy at the
University of Naples from 1529 to 1545, natural philosophy at the University
of Pisa from 1545 to 1553, after which returned to Naples and died in 1554.
In his second Pisan period he enjoyed the favor of Duke Cosimo I and participated in the activities of the Accademia Fiorentina, where he associated
with Giambattista Gelli, who translated some of his works into Italian.
It is true that Porzio was a strict Aristotelian who argued strongly that the
soul was mortal. But in other works, including lectures available only in manuscript, he addressed different topics and offered a wider range of views. In
treatises on love and Petrarch’s poetry Porzio saw love in Aristotelian terms
as unrestrained passion and a form of living death in which man loses reason.
He concluded that the solution was faith in Christ, and the gift of faith
depends on grace. In several short works based on Aristotle’s zoological
works Porzio demonstrated his philological skill and knowledge of the
ancient Greek commentators on Aristotle. He argued that the pseudoAristotelian work De coloribus was written by the ancient Theophrastus. In
a treatise on pain he argued that pain came from the dispositions of soul and
body rather than sense experience.
Porzio exhibited a strong fideistic tendency in several short works that
dealt with ethical-theological concerns. In a short treatise on celibacy, Porzio
wrote that although marriage is the solution for concupiscence, it was differ-

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ent for a priest, who was higher than a common man. Porzio showed the
influence of Desiderius Erasmus and, possibly, evangelical views coming from
Juan de Valdés, in treatises on prayer and the Our Father. In his Pisan lectures
on Aristotle’s De anima Porzio expressed doubt about purgatory, for which
there was no scriptural support, and Lenten fasting. But ultimately he was an
Aristotelian. In his major work, De rerum naturalium principiis (Naples,
1553), he rejected the superterrestial and affirmed the importance of materiality, while protecting free will. Although theology had a role to play in ethics,
it did not affect all-powerful nature.
Del Soldato shows Porzio to have been a versatile and original thinker. In
addition to the analyses of Porzio’s writings culled from a wealth of manuscript sources, she provides quotations from contemporaries and near contemporaries who saw him as an innovator. The book also provides more than
120 pages of Porzio’s works drawn from manuscript sources. This is a carefully prepared study that adds to our knowledge of Renaissance philosophy.
University of Toronto (Emeritus)
and Chapel Hill, NC

PAUL F. GRENDLER

Philip Melanchthon, Speaker of the Reformation: Wittenberg’s Other
Reformer. By Timothy J. Wengert. [Variorum Collected Studies Series;
CS963.] (Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing. 2010. Pp. xvi, 304. $139.95.
ISBN 978-1-409-40662-4.)
The studies in this volume explore the life and work of Philipp
Melanchthon, Martin Luther’s colleague at the University of Wittenberg and
one of the most influential Lutheran theologians and educators of the
Reformation era. The author, Timothy Wengert, is professor of Reformation
history at the Lutheran Theological Seminary in Philadelphia and was coeditor, with Robert Kolb, of The Book of Concord (Minneapolis, 2000).Wengert
is one of the foremost Melanchthon scholars in North America and author of
several books on the Reformer. This collection of thirteen previously published articles was printed in commemoration of the 450th anniversary of
Melanchthon’s death in 2010.
In his introduction to the collection, Wengert suggests that, “if Martin
Luther was preacher and pastor of the Reformation, Melanchthon was its
orator and logician” (p. vii). Initially engaged in the reform of the university’s
arts curriculum, Melanchthon soon became fully involved in the broader
movement of evangelical reform, assuming to a large degree the role of
spokesman for the Wittenbergers. Focusing on the rhetorical themes and
structure of St. Paul’s argument on justification in Romans, Melanchthon’s
Loci communes replaced Peter Lombard’s Sentences as a theological textbook at the university and became the first evangelical dogmatics book. A
master of grammar, dialectic, and rhetoric in the finest humanistic tradition,
Melanchthon brought greater clarity and definition to the teachings of the

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Lutheran Reformation, effectively dialoguing with his contemporaries across
a spectrum of theological viewpoints. He was the chief drafter of the
Augsburg Confession and author of its Apology, and continued to work
toward concord in doctrine and practice, across the Reformation landscape,
throughout his career. Melanchthon made significant contributions in a wide
variety of academic fields, publishing works in history, biblical commentary,
patristics, theology, and politics. His textbooks in theology, philosophy, grammar, rhetoric, dialectic, and natural science embraced the most advanced
humanistic learning and pedagogical methods of the time. Melanchthon’s
work in promoting education and developing curricula for German schools
earned him the title Praeceptor Germaniae and affected the course of the
Reformation itself, helping to ensure the survival of the Lutheran movement.
Drawn from thirty years of research and writing on Melanchthon,
Wengert’s essays survey the Reformer’s fascinating career and offer profound
insights into his impact on the Reformation. The essays are arranged in two
categories—the first nine examine Melanchthon’s life and theological influence, whereas the remaining four analyze his relationships with Reformation
figures such as Desiderius Erasmus, Martin Luther, and John Calvin.
An important contribution of Wengert’s essays is his analysis of two leading aspects of Melanchthon’s theological work: the relationship between
Bible and ecclesiastical tradition, and the role of Christians in the church and
world. Exploring topics such as Melanchthon’s approaches to biblical interpretation, Wengert demonstrates how Melanchthon analyzed texts with
humanist rhetorical techniques that brought new insights to bear on contemporary theological debates. This combination of humanist method and
evangelical theology was a catalyst in the development of a Reformation
hermeneutics. Wengert demonstrates how Melanchthon creatively appropriated humanist learning, both its linguistic tools and its method, in service of
communicating and inculcating the message of evangelical reform. Taking the
Reformation movement from an academic enterprise to one that impacted
theology and church—as well as society and culture—Wengert reveals
Melanchthon as a speaker of the practical exercise of the Christian faith and
life that has much to offer hearers of our own time.
Concordia Seminary, St. Louis

GERHARD BODE

Early French Reform: The Theology and Spirituality of Guillaume Farel. By
Jason Zuidema and Theodore Van Raalte. [St. Andrews Studies in
Reformation History.] (Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing. 2011. Pp. viii,
244. $119.95. ISBN 978-1-409-41884-9.)
There is both considerably more and somewhat less to this volume than
the title indicates. Most importantly, more than half of the book consists of
new English translations of the following early works by Guillaume Farel: Le
Pater Noster et le Credo (1524), Le Summaire et briefve declaration . . .

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(1534), La maniere et fasson. . . (1533), and the appendix to the 1542 edition
of the Summaire. These texts are vital for understanding the early development of French Reformed Protestantism. On the other hand, those understandably looking for a survey of the early Francophone Reformation in a
book titled Early French Reform will be disappointed; the book is on Farel
alone.
Title issues aside, Early French Reform is a welcome addition to the most
important trend in Reformed studies in recent decades: the widening of investigations beyond John Calvin himself. Strangely enough, renewed research on
Farel, arguably the most significant French reformer before Calvin, has been
relatively late in developing. Authors Jason Zuidema and Theodore Van Raalte
have teamed up to write essays on Farel’s early theology (Zuidema) and spirituality (Van Raalte) and to translate his most important early works.
The overarching theme of the book is that there was much more to the
“fiery Farel” than the popular image of the thundering preacher constantly
threatening God’s wrath. Zuidema argues that Farel was a competent theologian in his own right and did much to define the French Reformed faith in the
days before and even after Calvin’s arrival in Geneva in 1536. Zuidema finds
the most significant recurring theme in Farel’s theology in the clash between
the human and divine wills. This dichotomy is reflected by his frequent pitting against one another of the true and the false churches.
Van Raalte argues that prayer and spirituality were central emphases of
Farel, which have remained largely unexamined by modern scholars. Starting
in 1524 with his Le Pater Noster, Farel sought to replace what he saw as the
misguided prayers and spiritual practices of the late-medieval laity (for example, rosaries, chantries, prayers to saints) with unmediated prayer directly to
God and an “upward” spirituality focused externally on glorifying God rather
than on an “inner” ascetic or mystical spirituality.
On the whole, this is a successful book that makes several important texts
more widely available and prompts further questions for investigation. For
example, Zuidema wisely translates the 1534 edition of the Summaire rather
than the later, expanded editions. Although he notes some of the changes in
later editions, he does not examine the changes in detail. If he had emphasized those differences (on the sacraments and excommunication, for example), one would see more clearly how Farel’s early theology differed from his
later, Calvin-influenced thought. Van Raalte rightly shows the importance of
prayer for Farel and thus highlights an important element too often ignored
about the Reformer. He is less successful in demonstrating the uniqueness of
Farel’s contribution or why exactly his “piety warrants a place alongside studies of the spirituality of Gerson, Luther and Calvin” (p. 33). Also puzzling is
the absence of a translation of Farel’s Oraison tresdevote (1542) or Forme
d’oraison (1545), both of which Van Raalte discusses at length in his essays.
Hence, Early French Reform is a good introduction to Farel’s early thought,

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piety, and writings, but much work remains to be done on Farel and the early
years of French Protestantism.
Missouri University of Science and Technology, Rolla

MICHAEL BRUENING

Masculinity and Marian Efficacy in Shakespeare’s England. By Ruben
Espinosa. [Women and Gender in the Early Modern World.] (Burlington,
VT:Ashgate Publishing. 2011. Pp. xii, 194. $99.95. ISBN 978-1-409-40116-2.)
In this book’s lengthy introduction, “Fracturing Mary: The Rise and
Decline of the Cult of the Virgin Mary in England,” Ruben Espinosa charts the
birth in patristic times, growth through the Middle Ages, and lapse in the
Protestant Reformation of theology and art associated with Mary, the mother
of Jesus. He charts her history in thirty-five pages so as to explain why she
mattered to William Shakespeare’s culture “as a means of setting the stage to
examine what her influence meant to Shakespeare’s theater” (p. 2). But
knowing the author’s argument right away would have helped the reader
evaluate the long history he recapitulates. Espinosa could have eliminated, or
made more concise, his history of Mariology before the Reformation so as to
emphasize his later, fine comments about Mariology’s effect on early-modern
masculinity.
Feminist commentators on Shakespeare’s plays have explored Espinosa’s
subject, but they have done so to show how the patriarchal thrust of the
Protestant Reformation devalued the many faces of the Virgin Mary as part of
its assault on women, their imagined rights, and their purported nature.
Espinosa examines Mary’s effect on early-modern masculinity, as Shakespeare
registers it in selected plays. This effect, the author argues, is double. On the
one hand, “views of the Virgin Mary often destabilize the already unstable
socially constructed view of masculinity” (p. 31). On the other, Mary is “[a positive] alternative to otherwise masculine-centered perceptions of both religious and gendered identity” (p. 32). Mary has this positive value because she
never really lost her mystical, notably intercessory power, as a female counterpart to Christ in Protestant imagination. Espinosa shows Mary’s double
effect in French Joan la Pucelle (Joan of Arc) in Shakespeare’s 1 Henry VI,
who is repeatedly linked with the Virgin Mary, communes with demons, emasculates English heroes, and yet bears the Dauphin’s child while, saint-like, she
is a triumphant warrior, energizing individual French warriors and generally
forming a community. Likewise, Portia in The Merchant of Venice intercedes
unsolicited to save Antonio from death in Venice, yet she does so by playing
on the letter of the law after she fails to make the law, located in Shylock, merciful. Isabella plays the Marian intercessor in Measure for Measure, but she
fails because her physical beauty seduces the men around her (thus parodying, according to Espinosa, the Reformation Protestant stereotype of a Mary
promiscuous in granting all kinds of prayer for mediation while rejecting few
or none).

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The author’s longest chapter is in two parts. The first concerns the Virgin
Mary’s relevance for understanding the purity of Ophelia’s, Desdemona’s, and
Cordelia’s virginity (or lack thereof) and its effects on Hamlet, Othello, and
Lear, who in different ways destabilize virginity. (Hamlet, Othello, and King
Lear are, after all, tragedies). The second part of the chapter focuses on Mary
as nurturing (or not-so-nurturing) mother in Othello and Hamlet. Gertrude
and Othello’s nameless mother, associated with the exotic handkerchief, are
featured here. The readings in this chapter are generally persuasive, except
for those in the second part involving, first, Cordelia and the Virgin Mary; and,
second, Gertrude, the Mater Dolorosa, and the nurturing Mary. Lear is in
fact—as Espinosa recognizes—associated with Mary when he cradles in his
arms the dead Cordelia who, in her sacrificial love for him, could be better
likened to Christ than to Mary.
“In the spectacle and miraculous nuances that surround Cleopatra [in
Antony and Cleopatra], Marina [in Pericles], and Hermione [in The Winter’s
Tale]—and the theater’s invitation for the audience both to witness and imagine the ‘miracles’—” Espinosa in his last chapter “locates the reciprocal flow
of potency between the heroine and her male counterparts, Shakespeare’s
theater and its audience, and the Virgin Mary and England itself” (p. 152).
Baylor University

MAURICE HUNT

The Trials of Margaret Clitherow: Persecution, Martyrdom and the Politics
of Sanctity in Elizabethan England. By Peter Lake and Michael Questier.
(New York: Continuum. 2011. Pp. xix, 244. $120.00 clothbound, ISBN 9781-441-15134-6; $34.95 paperback, ISBN 978-1-441-10436-6.)
Margaret Clitherow was executed in York on the Feast of the
Annunciation, March 25, 1586, by the ancient, barbaric method of peine fort
et dure because she had refused to plead to the indictment brought against
her of harboring a seminary priest—an act that, under the statute of 1585, was
deemed to be a felony. Such an outcome to her trial was entirely expected,
and for the Protestant regime in the persons of the earl of Huntingdon and
the Council of the North, it was highly embarrassing. The execution of a
young, pregnant woman—the wife of a respected tradesman, mother of a
young family, and stepdaughter of the mayor—by stripping her and then
crushing her to death under a heavy door, weighed down by rocks, was an
act, irrespective of its legality, which could never be construed in a favorable
light.They were so embarrassed by this outcome that they had her executed
early in the morning with only the minimum number of necessary witnesses
and executioners present. Nor did the Catholics come out of it well; to have
allowed the case to get so out of hand was utterly irresponsible. Their first
reaction was to construct Clitherow as a martyr. Her spiritual adviser, the seminary priest John Mush, immediately began to write an account of her life,
trial, and death in the form of her Vita for circulation within the community.

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Titled “A True Report of the Life and Martyrdom of Mrs Margaret Clitherow,”
it is the only source (other than a brief, illustrated account by Richard
Verstegan) that we have of the woman and the events that culminated in her
execution. In it, she emerges as a symbolic figure; a shining example of
Catholic womanhood whose virtuous life ended in a martyr’s death at the
hands of the antichrist of the Protestant Church. Margaret Clitherow, the
flesh-and-blood woman, was thus transfigured into an iconic figure of Mush’s
making.
Peter Lake and Michael Questier take Mush’s manuscript account and,
drawing upon the analysis and commentaries of scholars, in particular the
meticulous work of Katherine Longley, use it as the starting point of their
investigation—hence the title of the book.They argue that, by reading Mush’s
narrative “against the grain,” it is possible to uncover and identify in it the
arguments about conformity that had, at the time of the trial, split the
Catholic community into two bitterly opposing factions as they attempted to
reconcile the demands of conscience with their sovereign’s demand for obedience in the matter of church attendance. Such a reading, they maintain, in
exposing how readily the Protestants exploited this rift, also reveals the ideological disputes that were challenging the English Protestant community in
the second half of the sixteenth century.
To some extent they succeed in this, but not entirely. They demonstrate
efficiently the intrinsic political radicalism of Catholic recusancy and its
impact on contemporary political and social orders. Their examination of the
respective strategies of the two Catholic factions, represented by the seminary priest Mush and the Jesuit Henry Garnet on the one hand and by the
eventual defector to Protestantism Thomas Bell on the other, dominates the
second part of the book and is particularly well researched and handled. They
conclude that these same entrenched, diametrically opposed arguments lay at
the heart of the later Archpriest Controversy.
This is not, however, a book about Margaret Clitherow; it is a study of the
religious politics of the Elizabethan period. Her case was, and is still, well
known, and it is therefore an attractive starting point. However, the enigmatic
figure and case of Clitherow and Mush’s manuscript account constitute too
problematic and fragile a source on which to build such a detailed and complex analysis. It also is deeply ironic that in so emphatically dismissing the
argument that the figure of Clitherow that emerges from Mush’s manuscript
account of her life and death is essentially Mush’s own construction of the
woman, Lake and Questier use her as the vehicle for their own arguments and
in doing so, without a hint of self-awareness, reconstruct Margaret Clitherow,
just as Mush did, for their own polemical ends.
There is much to admire in this book. In particular, the analysis and discussion in part II of the arguments of the two sides represented by the Mush-

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Garnet cohort and those who favored Bell’s stance are compelling, illuminating, and innovative and will hopefully stimulate further research.
A bibliography would have been useful, and the placing of endnotes with
the relevant chapter would have made for an easier reading of a complex
argument. The misspelling of Questier’s surname on the spine of the book is
most unfortunate.
University of Exeter

ANNE DILLON

Defending Copernicus and Galileo: Critical Reasoning in the Two Affairs.
By Maurice A. Finocchiaro. [Boston Studies in the Philosophy of Science,
Vol. 280.] (New York: Springer. 2010. Pp. xliv, 350. $99.95. ISBN 978-9-04813200-3.)
Why yet another book on the so-called Galileo Affair in view of the extensive literature already available? This question is further exacerbated by the
fact that this work provides no new historical data. However, the merit of this
work is that it approaches the whole affair by attempting to offer a defense
of Galileo by employing the same critical reasoning that Galileo himself used
in defending Copernicus. Much of the book is, in fact, a study in the epistemology of critical reasoning in science, and it makes an important contribution to the very meaning of science by studying the origins of modern science in Galileo’s research techniques. The author uses this overarching theme
of critical reasoning to offer a synthesis of his numerous previous publications on the Galileo Affair. In so doing, however, the treatment becomes
unduly repetitious, and this makes for difficult reading. In fact, the author
reveals that this work is a collection of previously published papers. It would
have been a much more readable book had there been more careful editing
to weave the previous publications together into a more unified presentation.
Chapters 1 and 2 essentially cover material that is available in general
astronomy textbooks, and it could have been presented here much more succinctly. By far, one of the best presentations in this book is section 4.5, where
the author treats of Galileo’s letter to the Grand Duchess Christina Medici on
the interpretation of scripture. His analysis is thorough, concise, and convincing. He correctly identifies the central argument of Galileo in his letter that,
although we may accept that scripture cannot err, one may clearly err in the
interpretation of scripture. The author then provides an excellent discussion
of Galileo’s views on the various ways in which scripture may be interpreted.
Galileo concludes, according to the author, that in no place does scripture
teach scientific facts and, therefore, cannot contradict science. He persuasively concludes that, of the many reasons adduced for the condemnation of
Copernicanism in 1616, the main one was that church authorities, inspired
principally by the thinking of Jesuit saint and cardinal Robert Bellarmine,
were convinced that Copernicanism contradicted scripture. These were the
years of the Counter-Reformation. It had only been about seventy years since

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the Catholic Church had solemnly declared at the Council of Trent that scripture could not be interpreted privately. The author correctly maintains that,
in Galileo’s letter to Medici, he had offered a correct interpretation of scripture, but he had done so privately. In fact, in very general terms Galileo’s
approach to scriptural interpretation was embraced officially by the Church
about four centuries later.
In 1616, at the desire of Pope Paul V, Bellarmine admonished Galileo that
he was not to pursue any defense of Copernicanism because it contradicted
scripture. In reality, it did not. In 1633 Galileo was condemned for disobeying
that admonition that was based on a false premise. The author correctly
describes this as one of the greatest ironies in the history of the interaction
between science and religion. On the one hand, we have the presentation by
Galileo of some of the best arguments ever advanced as to why a particular
scientific theory was compatible with scripture and why in general scripture
is not a scientific authority. On the other hand, one of the world’s great religions formally condemned a key scientific theory that played a crucial role in
the rise of modern science. The struggle to maintain a healthy interaction
between modern science and religious belief—in particular, beliefs based on
scripture—has not ended, and we have much to learn from the critical reasoning with which this book studies anew the Galileo Affair.
One of most useful features of this book is the bibliography on pages
315–38, which, although titled “Selected Bibliography,” is, in fact, quite extensive. It will be very helpful to Galileo scholars.
Le Moyne College
Syracuse, NY

GEORGE V. COYNE, S.J.

Creating Catholics: Catechism and Primary Education in Early Modern
France. By Karen E. Carter. (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press.
2011. Pp. xiii, 314. $40.00 paperback. ISBN 978-0-268-02304-1.)
In this book the author revisits thorny questions that historians of the
Reformations have pondered ever since they occurred: What was the nature
and depth of religious belief, and how effectively was religious knowledge
disseminated over time? To answer these, at least regarding France, the author
examines catechisms and rural primary schools (petites écoles), for her the
fundamental vectors of this process of creating and transmitting Catholic
practice and belief. Thus, they were the centerpieces of the Catholic Reform.
For the author’s period of scrutiny, 1650 to the Revolution, three large and
diverse dioceses in northern France—Auxerre, Chalons-sur-Marne, and
Reims—offer rich sources essential for this study. Beyond the hundreds of catechisms, she deeply and fruitfully mines the plentiful visitation records.
The first part of the book examines the many catechisms produced by various bishops of these dioceses, essentially as texts to prepare children for first

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Communion. Their objective was not to inform young Catholics of the theological complexities of doctrine, but rather to have them memorize basic
tenets as guides to moral behavior that the Church expected of the laity. In
the second part, on primary education, the author moves from viewing the
Reform from an episcopal (and thus top-down) perspective to one that
explores the active role of the parish clergy; schoolteachers; and, above all,
the laity in the Reforming process. Bishops may have had clear prescriptions
in their catechisms, but visitation records reveal that Catholic parents were
insisting that their children attend the curé’s classes. Indeed, during the eighteenth century the laity hounded bishops to assign more priests and vicars to
the parishes at the same time that the number of petites écoles increased dramatically. The lay community (parents and village authorities), the author
points out, shouldered the increased financial burden of more priests and
more schoolteachers, for “if they had not wanted schools that taught religion
and morals, they would not have paid for them” (p. 139).
The fact that neither the king nor the Church contributed any financial
support for these primary schools prompts the author to question the confessionalization thesis in its classic form, which grants the state a central role
in the institutionalization of the various reforming confessions.Yet, by “1789
the vast majority of children from all social levels—girls as well as boys—had
access to primary education” (p. 182). The author’s central thesis that the
Catholic Reform cannot simply be understood as primarily a seventeenth-century development and as a “top-down process of institutional reform” (p. 4) is
a compelling corrective to quietly accepted historiographical assumptions.
Still, one cannot help but feel that the author slightly overstates her case. The
vast majority of children may have had access to primary schools, but how
many actually attended? The author herself undercuts the sweep of her assertions when she shows that “as many as one-fourth to one-half [of eligible children] did not attend the petites écoles at all, or only for a short amount of
time” (p. 194). The main reasons were “neglect and poverty” (p. 195) so that
“in reality the village schools could not reach the poorest children in the
parish” (p. 197). That primary education was mostly the preserve of “middle
class children” (p. 197), then, suggests that the laity driving the Reform “from
below” were from a more specific socioeconomic group than suggested in
this book, a point certainly worth exploring in the future.
Purdue University

JAMES R. FARR

Voicing Dissent in Seventeenth-Century Spain: Inquisition, Social Criticism
and Theology in the Case of El Criticón. By Patricia W. Manning.
[Medieval and Early Modern Iberian World,Vol. 37.] (Leiden; Boston: Brill.
2009. Pp. xvi, 323. $203.00. ISBN 978-9-004-17851-9.)
Scholars of early-modern Spain have labored long and hard to dispel the
notion of a monolithic, all-powerful Inquisition. Patricia Manning’s Voicing

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Dissent in Seventeenth-Century Spain is a valuable contribution to that project. The book focuses on the Spanish Inquisition’s censorship of texts and
describes how such efforts were hampered by various procedural loopholes,
scarcity of personnel, porous borders, and resistance by intellectual elites.
Contrary to José Antonio Maravall’s notion of baroque Spain as a “guided culture” that successfully enforced ideological conformity, Manning argues that
slack in the inquisitional system allowed certain Spanish authors to critique
the status quo. Baltasar Gracián’s El Criticón (1651–57) serves as a case in
point and as the book’s central case study. Manning has combined a nuanced
reading of this text with solid archival research to produce an impressive
piece of scholarship.
Before turning to El Criticón Manning devotes several chapters to the factors that made dissent possible in seventeenth-century Spain. She cites, for
example, the divided jurisdiction between state and Inquisition, which created institutional inefficiencies and bureaucratic redundancies without providing sufficient manpower to effectively police ports or monitor booksellers. She also notes that the Inquisition’s approval process for printed
works was remarkably slipshod. In some cases authors (especially well-connected clergy such as the Jesuit Gracián) could count on friends and allies to
review their books. In other cases, books sailed through the process without
even being read, based on the reputation of the author. Authors who did not
enjoy such preferential treatment were by no means passive in the face of
inquisitional authority; Manning presents numerous episodes in which
authors mounted spirited defenses of their works. Even if a book ended up
being banned there were ways to circumvent the Inquisition’s edict: special
licenses were issued to theologians who needed access to prohibited works
so as to combat the ideas contained therein; licenses also were granted to
monastic orders for their libraries and to well-connected aristocrats for their
private collections. If the books covered by these licenses were sold or transferred, the Inquisition found it almost impossible to track them down.
Against this background of a surprisingly fractious Spanish republic of letters, Manning interprets Gracián’s El Criticón as a book that refuses to fit
neatly into the didactic canon to which it has traditionally been assigned. In
her analysis, Gracián, instead of writing an advice manual for the edification of
the Counter-Reformation faithful, used the literary devices of El Criticón as
tools for social critique. Rather than proffering straightforward moral guidance, Gracián presented a world so out of joint that it could only result in a disillusionment (desengaño) that did not even hold out the possibility of turning
readers’ attention to the hereafter. Gracian’s portrayal of the afterlife (the
“Island of Immortality,”p. 18) neither conformed to orthodox visions of heaven
nor offered a secular version of moral redemption, and thus in the end readers
were left with nothing more than “a continuous string of deceptions” (p. 185).
In this disenchanted fictional world Gracián juxtaposed standard tropes
lauding the glories of Spanish culture with veiled criticisms of contemporary

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Spanish society, criticisms that extended even to King Philip IV and his most
trusted ministers. Manning argues that this structure offered readers a choice
of interpretations, thereby implicating them in any subversive reading of the
text and leaving the author “without blame” (p. 250). The degree to which
such literary subtleties would have confounded the Holy Office is unclear, but
the fact remains that El Criticón never appeared on the Inquisition’s Index of
Prohibited Books, and when Gracián eventually ran afoul of the leadership of
his order it was, as Manning points out in her final chapter, a by-product of
controversies between Jesuits and Jansenists concerning free will rather than
evidence of efficient, centralized social control.
Although he was ultimately silenced, Gracián managed to completely
avoid inquisitional censorship and evade the Jesuit pre-publication process
for nearly two decades, during which time his works circulated freely. The
case of Gracián was not unique; Manning points to other writers who
exploited the system in similar ways. In the final analysis Voicing Dissent
demonstrates that there was more latitude for well-connected authors to take
up controversial positions in Counter-Reformation Spain than has been previously acknowledged.
Manning does her English-language readers a service by providing a glossary of Spanish terms at the beginning of the book. These same readers, however, may be less well served by her translations, which are many and are
incorporated parenthetically into the text itself, often interrupting the flow of
the analysis. This stylistic issue aside, Voicing Dissent is a fine book. It sheds
considerable light on an understudied aspect of Spain’s history and provides
a fresh take on a classic work of literature. It will be equally valuable to
Inquisition studies and literary criticism of the Spanish baroque.
University of Alabama at Birmingham

ANDREW KEITT

Histoire littéraire des Bénédictins de Saint-Maur, Vol. 3 (1683–1723). By
Philippe Lenain. [Bibliothèque de la Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique,
Fascicule 93.] (Louvain-la-Neuve: Collège Érasme; Leuven: Universiteitsbibliotheek. 2010. Pp. 717. €80,00 paperback.)
Nearly fifteen years ago, Philippe Lenain conceived the monumental task
of compiling a list of all literary contributions of the members of the
Benedictine Congregation of Saint-Maur. The Maurists earned high praise
from their contemporaries for their achievements in most academic realms,
and Lenain’s work emphasizes these contributions to the literature and scholarship of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The third volume of
Lenain’s compilation catalogues the monastic authors from 1683 to 1723.
Volume 4 will cover Maurists from 1724 to 1787, and a fifth and final volume
will include an index of all volumes.

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Lenain’s compilation builds on the work begun by the Maurist Don René
Prosper Tassin in 1770. Tassin set out to create a complete list of Maurist
scholarship, but the political and religious atmosphere of the late-eighteenth
century rendered his work incomplete and extensively edited. Other historians such as Ulysse Robert in the nineteenth century and Dom Yves Chaussy
in the twentieth have added their own editions. Lenain has attempted to tie
all of these contributions together in one collection. Each entry has a short
biography of the monastic author; a list of his publications, manuscripts, and
correspondence; and bibliographic references. Unlike Tassin, who ranked his
writers by seniority, Lenain has chosen to list his by date of profession—in
other words, the moment that the author’s written works would become contributions for the Congregation and not just those of an individual scholar.
(Each monk receives a unique catalog number based on his date of profession.) In deference to the contributions of the previous historians, Lenain
included some religious who did not seem to produce any scholarly product
but who figured on the lists provided by Tassin, Robert, and others. For example, volume III begins with the entry of M. Pierre Denis, a commis of the
Congregation of Saint-Maur, who was included in Dom Chaussy’s compilation
but seems to have left no literary contributions.
Lenain’s index of Maurist authors and their works has tremendous importance for the history of the Congregation as well as for the history of the
period in general. This work highlights the outstanding achievements made
by members of this religious order to history, philosophy, science, and many
other academic fields. The Maurists were lauded by their contemporaries for
these accomplishments, but as noted above, the previous attempts to catalog
these works have remained incomplete. Also significant are Lenain’s entries
that include some of the collaborative works between Maurists and secular
scholars. The Congregation’s members did not keep their academic findings
to themselves; they believed that knowledge should be shared with the rest
of the scholarly community for the good of all. Yet, although Maurists interacted with the academic world beyond their cloister walls, Lenain’s volumes
demonstrate that this did not weaken their devotion to their religious vocations. In his entry on Dom Martin Bouquet, the Maurist historian most notable
for completing the Collection des Historiens des Gaules et de la France at
the behest of royal government of France, Lenain reiterates Tassin’s comments that Bouquet’s involvement with secular society did not dampen his
devotion to his religious life. Thus, whereas Lenain’s collection provides an
invaluable resource for researchers, it also demonstrates how the Maurists
used scholarship not to escape the obligations of their religious vows but as
a means of fulfilling the labora command of their Benedictine founder.
Lourdes University
Sylvania, OH

MARY KATHRYN ROBINSON

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Late Modern European
Newman and His Contemporaries. By Edward Short. (New York: T & T Clark
International, an imprint of Continuum. 2011. Pp. xi, 530. $110.00 clothbound, ISBN 978-0-567-02688-0; $32.95 paperback, ISBN 978-0-56702689-7.)
Among the mini-flood of publications unleashed by the beatification of
Cardinal John Henry Newman (1801–90) by Pope Benedict XVI on
September 19, 2010, at Cofton Park, Birmingham, England, Edward Short’s
Newman and His Contemporaries stands out for several reasons. First of all
is its sheer quantity: some 400 densely packed pages of narrative, augmented
by another 100-plus pages of references and biographical information. Not
only is this book a mega-volume; more important, it is a quality volume that is
a pleasure to read—the author writes well, in spite of yielding occasionally to
the temptation of literary Wanderlust. In addition, Short has both an in-depth
knowledge of Newman’s life and thought, as well as an enviable familiarity
with the writings of many of Newman’s contemporaries who, in some cases,
have been treated only en passant by other Newman biographers. An additional enhancement to this volume is the center collection of black-and-white
reproductions of people and places mentioned in the text.
The first four of this volume’s thirteen chapters treat the well-known triumvirate of the Oxford Movement: John Keble (1792–1866), Edward Bouverie
Pusey (1800–82), and Richard Hurrell Froude (1803–36). Froude’s premature
death during the early years of the movement left much of its leadership in
Newman’s hands; Keble and Pusey were thinkers, not organizers.The posthumous publication of Froude’s Remains (London, 1838) suggests that had he
lived longer, he might well have entered the Roman Catholic Church before
Newman did, thereby posing the perennially intriguing question why
Newman became a Roman Catholic, while Keble and Pusey did not.
This volume’s middle five chapters are a smörgåsbord: Newman’s view of
public life, his “female faithful,” his contacts with Americans such as Orestes
Brownson (1803–76), as well as his relationship with William Ewart Gladstone
(1809–98) and his admiration for William Makepeace Thackeray (1811–63).
Although Newman’s relationship with Gladstone has already received considerable attention, especially in regard to Newman’s Letter to the Duke of
Norfolk (1875), Short’s discussion of Newman’s admiration for Thackeray’s
Vanity Fair (1847–48) draws attention to an often neglected aspect of
Newman’s life: his love of literature.
In the volume’s last four chapters, Short makes a significant contribution
to Newman studies by treating his ambivalent relationships with three contemporaries: Richard Holt Hutton (1826–97), an editor of the influential
Spectator; Matthew Arnold (1822–88), professor of poetry at Oxford; and
Arthur Hugh Clough (1819–61), once, like Newman, a fellow of Oriel College.

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Although Newman intellectually challenged all three men, none of them were
ever persuaded to follow his footsteps into the Roman Catholic Church. Last
but not least, the book concludes with an intriguing portrait of “Newman on
Newman.”
Although readers may disagree with some of the author’s opinions and
question some of his comparisons, the wide-ranging—although sometimes
meandering—discussions in this book are both fascinating and thought provoking. Unfortunately, in spite of the author’s encyclopedic knowledge of
Victoriana, readers will be surprised to find a number of historical mistakes:
Keble’s “Assize Sermon” was preached on July 14, 1833, not July 13 (p. 28);
Newman’s reception into the Roman Catholic Church was on October 9,
1845, not October 29 (p. 217); Newman was created a cardinal in 1879, not
1877 (photo caption of Pope Leo XIII); and so forth.
Such flaws not withstanding—etiam Homerus dormitabat—Newman
aficionados will warmly welcome this volume. The paperback is certainly
well worth the price, although the price of the hardback seems exorbitant.
Readers can look forward to Short’s promised sequel on Newman and his
family.
The Catholic University of America

JOHN T. FORD

The European Culture Wars in Ireland: The Callan Schools Affair, 1868–81.
By Colin Barr. (Dublin: University College Dublin Press; Chester Springs,
PA: Dufour Editions. 2010. Pp. xiii, 306. $89.95. ISBN 978-1-906-35953-9.)
Barr sets out to tell the story of Robert O’Keeffe, the parish priest of
Callan, County Kilkenny, whose suspension in November 1871 by Cardinal
Paul Cullen, archbishop of Dublin but acting in his capacity as papal legate,
occasioned one of the great causes célèbres of nineteenth-century Ireland.
Cullen was forced into this measure because O’Keeffe had initiated legal proceedings against his own bishop, Edward Walsh. O’Keeffe, in a misguided
instance of pastoral zeal, had invited some French nuns to come to Callan to
run a girls’ school. He and the sisters expended considerable sums on preparing a building.Walsh knew nothing of the venture, and when finally O’Keeffe
asked for permission, the bishop refused. O’Keeffe then sued his bishop in a
civil court. Walsh imposed a canonical penalty on O’Keeffe, who then
appealed to Cullen.
The cardinal’s suspension of the turbulent priest meant O’Keeffe lost not
only his livelihood as pastor but also was dismissed from quasi-state positions
as chaplain to the local poorhouse and manager of several local schools under
the control of the National Board of Education.
The decisions of the poor law and education authorities roused Protestant,
judicial, and parliamentary opinion in Britain and Ireland, because, on the face

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of it, a servant of the queen was dismissed at the bidding of a cardinal of the
Roman Church. O’Keeffe described Cullen as one exercising the
absolute sway of a foreign despot, brought up in a foreign country [Cullen
had lived in Rome as student, professor, and rector since he was seventeen
until his return to Ireland as an archbishop and papal legate in 1850], and
claiming to be above the law of his own. (p. 78)
O’Keeffe sued Cullen, in addition to bringing several other lawsuits against
sundry clerics, and was awarded by the trial jury, under a less than impartial
Protestant chief justice, one farthing in compensation, but with costs of the
legal proceedings awarded against Cullen. This verdict was overturned on
appeal. Still, O’Keeffe had the support of virtually every shade of anti-Catholic
opinion in the United Kingdom, which to varying degrees beat the antipopery drum. This included the former and current prime ministers, Lord John
Russell and William Gladstone; many of the leading newspapers of the day;
and the Orange Order. Further, the matter was discussed at cabinet level on at
least fifteen occasions, and gave rise to parliamentary motions and a parliamentary inquiry in which O’Keeffe was “made to look mendacious, vindictive
and money-grabbing” (p. 232).
Barr is surely correct to see the case not simply in Irish and British terms,
but to set it in the context of wider forces of tension between church and
state in Europe as a whole at that stage of the nineteenth century.
Nevertheless, the title is not accurate. The church-state tensions in Ireland
were not the equivalent of the German Kulturkampf, as Barr would have it.
The anticlerical and anti-Catholic sentiments in a number of contemporary
European states did not equivalently give rise in the United Kingdom to
restrictive legal penalties. Furthermore, the European struggle was not only a
result of ultramontanism but also formed part of a pattern laid down in the
context of the eighteenth-century Enlightenment, not least in the shape of
Josephism in Austria-Hungary. Equally, this reviewer is not as convinced as
Barr that no-popery had faded from the British popular imagination as early
as the 1870s (p. 265). The very success of O’Keeffe’s appeals for help in his
legal challenges is proof-positive against such a view.
These are, however, minor points. The work is meticulously researched,
very well written, and splendidly produced. Barr has not only combed
archives in some twenty-eight deposits in six countries but also has scoured
an extensive range of printed sources and a commendable array of secondary
literature. He has given us an astonishingly rounded account of the intrigues
of the Callan case and its implications for church-state relations in Ireland at
this period. He does so in a way that yields genuine insight into the working
of the Irish administration, and the Protestant government’s attempt to come
to terms with the workings of Catholicism, at a time when Catholic political
power in Ireland was beginning to make a real impact on the country. The

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book will become an essential read for all students of political and religious
interchange in nineteenth-century Ireland.
As for O’Keeffe, he died in January 1881 reconciled to the Church. There
were riots at his funeral.
Heythrop College, University of London

OLIVER P. RAFFERTY, S.J.

Beyond the Contingent: Epistemological Authority, A Pascalian Revival,
and the Religious Imagination in Third Republic France. By Kathleen A.
Mulhern. (Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications, an imprint of Wipf and Stock
Publishers. 2011. Pp. xvii, 212. $25.00 paperback. ISBN 978-1-608-99370-3.)
A lacuna in French Catholic modernism studies is filled. The subject of this
study is the inspiration that several moderate Catholic modernists, especially
Maurice Blondel, found in the writings of Blaise Pascal. Researchers in the
field, at least in their English-language productions, have in fact paid next to
no attention to this significant connection. An at least partial exception is
Oliva Blanchette in his recent Maurice Blondel: A Philosophical Life
(reviewed ante, XCVII [2011], 836–38), arriving too late for Kathleen A.
Mulhern to note.
Blondel’s philosophical undertaking to ground human knowledge in a rigorous, philosophically valid way displays certain parallels with Pascal’s own
reflections on his scientific and religious experience. Beyond that, as Mulhern
shows with adequate documentation, Blondel delved into the thought of
Pascal to come up with an alternative to the dominant theological as well as
secular approaches to religious knowledge. In the process he was pitched
into the modernist controversies as he came up against the fears of Catholic
critics, who were not receptive to any such modernizing paradigm shift.
The author examines two other figures in addition to Blondel, namely the
Oratorian Lucien Laberthonnière (1860–1932) and the physicist Pierre
Duhem (1861–1916), both friends of Blondel (1861–1949). Duhem also
makes his first appearance in Catholic modernist studies in these pages. Two
centuries after Pascal (1623–62), but spurred by the reading of that religious
scientist, Duhem concluded to the inevitable probability (not certainty) of all
findings of experimental science. Hence Duhem, in a sort of physicist’s commentary on Pascal’s Pensées, challenged his scientistic colleagues who in
effect claimed a monopoly on knowledge, with no room left for religious
belief.
Mulhern labors to make clear Laberthonnière’s positions in religious epistemology and why they raised such opposition in church circles (chapters 6
and 7, regarding respectively the Scholastics’ defective authoritarian epistemology and skeptics’ rejection of tradition). His polemical style and clerical
status made him a target for Rome. Oddly, Mulhern fails to mention (pp. 152,

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180, 192) that two of his recent works were placed on the Index in 1906,
more than a year before the broader Vatican condemnations of Lamentabili
and Pascendi came out.
Instead of distinguishing “left, right, and center” modernists as Emile Poulat
and others have done, Mulhern tends to wall her subjects off from the modernist camp proper. She situates them broadly in the progressive (“liberal”)
wing of nineteenth-century French Catholic intellectual life and then highlights the distinctive methodology that sets them apart from “modernists.” A
framework acknowledging a broader spectrum of modernists laid low by
Pope Pius X’s 1907 encyclical, Pascendi dominici gregis, would be preferable. A bit of delving into the drafting of this encyclical also would be helpful to the nonspecialist reader.
For the specialist, the main profit of Mulhern’s work will in many cases be
the light she casts on Pascal’s influence in a hostile laicist academic setting
and the relevance of Pascalian thought for some champions of intellectual
renewal within the Catholic Church.
Marquette University (Emeritus)

PAUL MISNER

«Lamentabili sane exitu» (1907). Les documents préparatoires du Saint
Office. Edited by Claus Arnold and Giacomo Losito. [Fontes Archivi Sancti
Officii Romani,Vol. 6.] (Rome: Liberia Editrice Vaticana. 2011. Pp. XVI, 546.
€60,00 paperback. ISBN 978-8-820-98587-5.)
This volume essentially picks up the story of Vatican resistance and censure of Roman Catholic modernism where the previous one edited by Claus
Arnold and Giacomo Losito, La censure d’Alfred Loisy (1903, vol. 4 in the
same series) left off. From discussions surrounding the censure of five of
Loisy’s works in 1903 there emerged a decision to draw up a list of errors as
a defense of Catholicism against a generalized rationalist menace. Over the
course of the document’s development, the focus narrowed to Loisy and to
the French exegetical “school” of which he was perceived to be head.
In a foreword Emile Poulat presents the major themes present in the final
version of sixty-five propositions: critical exegesis and the ecclesial magisterium (1–9), inspiration and revelation (10–21), dogma (22–38), sacraments
(52–57), and immutable truth (58–65). Those familiar with Loisy’s modernist
writings will readily discern the connections of these areas with those publications. The net, however, was originally cast more widely and, as the editors
show, more intransigently than in the final version.
In the first of the two introductory essays, Arnold provides the background for the sequencing and significance of the published documentation.
From the discussions in 1903 Domenico Palmieri and Pie de Langogne were
each charged with drafting a basis for discussion. The first document in the

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series reflects Palmieri’s efforts to broadly connect Loisy with Kant’s errors
and exhibit the dangers of the exegete’s theological “evolutionism,” followed
by ninety-three propositions in Latin with a theological qualification attached
to each. De Langogne’s text (document 2) broadened its perspective beyond
Loisy to encompass the “progressive” French exegetical school that included
Albert Houtin and Monsignor Eudoxe Irénée Edouard Mignot. A programmatic introduction was followed by 119 propositions, without theological
qualification.
Both Palmieri and de Langogne, with the addition of Willem Van Rossum,
were then tasked with collaborating on a third version (document 3) that was
closer to de Langogne’s draft and contained ninety-six propositions, sixty-six
of which were judged “heretical.” This joint effort then became the basis of
discussion among consulters (represented in document 4) that show a moderating influence on some propositions, while discarding others. De
Langogne contributed an additional document (5) examining the French
hermeneutic of dogma represented by Edouard Le Roy that would figure in
one of Lamentabili’s propositions.
Document 6 presents the results of further discussion of each proposition
by the cardinals and the consulters, which was then given over to Andreas
Steinhuber, who was entrusted with the redaction of the introduction to the
syllabus and who eliminated a few more propositions to arrive at the final
sixty-five (document 7). The editors then give the final version of each proposition, together with its sources in earlier versions, as well as the propositions
that were rejected.
The second introductory essay by Losito examines antimodernist activity
in France and its links to the Vatican before focusing on de Langogne, who
made use of this criticism in his drafts. The final version of Lamentabili is
closest to the latter’s vision and versions that he singled out for particular
consideration. In a third section Lamentabili’s impact on French public opinion is surveyed, and in the final one, the hierarchical exchanges that formed
the background to Loisy’s excommunication in 1908 are displayed.
In Simples réflexions (Ceffonds, 1907) Loisy attempted to identify the
probable source of each proposition (facilitated by the fact that most came
from his own writings). The publication of the archival documentation
enables scholars not only to verify the source of a proposition but also to
appreciate what the framers had in mind when they deemed it censurable.
Arnold and Losito also give access to the differences among those involved in
the production of the syllabus, differences that show the difficulty of coming
to clear appreciation of the relation between history and dogma. The background provided in the introductory essays also explains some omissions in
the syllabus. Although the method of immanence receives mention in the
antimodernist encyclical Pascendi dominici gregis (1907), Maurice Blondel’s
work is not represented in Lamentabili.

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The editors set a high standard with their previous volume in this series,
matched in this one. It is to be hoped that they do a similar volume with documentation pertaining to Pascendi. This is an excellent resource for anyone
seriously interested in modernism and the trajectory of Roman Catholic theology that leads into the Second Vatican Council.
University of Saint Thomas, Houston

C. J. T. TALAR

Relazioni tra Santa Sede e Repubbliche baltiche (1918–1940): Monsignor
Zecchini diplomatico. By Valerio Perna. (Udine: Forum. 2010. Pp. 238.
€14,50 paperback. ISBN 978-8-884-20620-6.)
Valerio Perna’s well-crafted monograph examines the relations between
the Holy See and the three Baltic republics during their two decades of independence between the world wars. Having emerged out of the wreckage of
the defeated German and Russian empires in 1918 and generally lumped
together in the eyes of the world, in fact this trio of tiny states along the Baltic
littoral differed widely, not least in their diminishing degree of Catholicity
from south to north: from solidly Catholic Lithuania through Latvia, where
Catholics amounted to a significant minority; and up to Estonia, where they
numbered a scant few thousands of souls.
The author is a historian at the University of Udine. His book confirms that
it was the fate of the Baltic countries to be treated as little more than ciphers
or matters of secondary interest in the diplomacy of the era, and this was true
of the foreign policy of the Holy See, in its own distinctive fashion. Not without reason, the Vatican gave priority to Poland—returned to the map of
Europe after more than a century of absence—as the natural focus of its attention in east central Europe and had to fit the Baltic republics into its calculations only on the margins. This complicated the Holy See’s dealings with
Lithuania, which lost out to Poland in a dispute over custody of the city of
Wilno (Vilnius), and nursed a grudge against its larger Catholic neighbor
throughout the interwar period.
The central figure in this account, as indicated in the subtitle, is Antonino
Zecchini, a Jesuit of Friulian origin, who served as the Vatican’s principal representative to the Baltic countries as archbishop and nuncio to Latvia. He
served in this capacity for more than a decade until his death in Riga in 1935.
In that country and Estonia, the Holy See’s main concern was to protect the
best interests of the Catholic minority, managing to do this with a minimum
of friction. Perhaps paradoxically, the most Catholic of the Baltic states was
the one that gave the papal diplomats the most headaches. A series of conflicts with the government of Lithuania led the nuncio to resign in 1931, and
no successor was named until February 1940. Only four months later, the
Soviet Union occupied all three Baltic countries, collecting part of its booty
from the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact of the year before, and began the half-cen-

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tury of totalitarian rule over Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania that ended only
with the collapse of the USSR and the accompanying return of independence.
The author has based his study primarily on the resources found in six
state archives, notably the recently opened documents of the pontificate of
Pius XI in the Vatican Archives and the papers of Luigi Faidutti, a priest-politician charged by the Vatican with the arduous task of trying to put its relations
with Lithuania on even keel. The book lacks a bibliography, but is enhanced
by photographs and a timeline. The very tight focus of Perna’s monograph
likely will limit its readership to specialists, but they will find it useful, informative, and reliable.
University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee

NEAL PEASE

The Transformation of the Christian Churches in Western Europe,
1945–2000. Edited by Leo Kenis, Jaak Billiet, and Patrick Pasture. [KADOC
Studies on Religion, Culture and Society,Vol. 6.] (Leuven: Leuven University
Press. Distrib. Cornell University Press. 2010. Pp. 352. $42.50, €36,00 paperback. ISBN 978-9-058-67665-8.)
How are you supposed to respond when the soccer team you have been
brought up to support but about which you have always had mixed feelings
abruptly changes its manager and starts to play the open imaginative style of
soccer you have always urged it to adopt but as a consequence begins to lose
all of its matches and ends up being relegated from the league?
That, broadly speaking, is the problem confronted by many of the contributors to this volume. The product of a conference held at Leuven in 2002,
it brings together a team of historians, sociologists, and political scientists predominantly sympathetic to the progressive Catholicism that appeared to have
triumphed at the Second Vatican Council of the early 1960s, but that, little
more than a generation later, had led to the profound marginalization of
Catholicism in late-twentieth-century Europe. The reality of that decline is
conveyed graphically in the statistical presentation by Karel Dobbelaere and
Jaak Billiet (pp. 114–20), in which they trace the remorseless falls in levels of
church attendance, baptisms, and marriages that have occurred every single
year in Belgium since the 1960s. Why should that have been so? Of course,
one might conclude somewhat heretically that the change of direction had
been the wrong move. Some, notably Wilhelm Damberg and Patrick Pasture,
flirt with this argument, suggesting (as has been proposed by Denis Pelletier)
that Catholicism simply lost its appeal (one should perhaps say, in deference
to contemporary market language, brand distinctiveness) when it diminished
its “otherness” in favor of a soft-focus ethical set of values, thereby opening
the way in recent years to the more militant Protestant sects or to the do-ityourself religious syncretism well described here, with almost a straight face,
by Liliane Voyé.

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Most, of the contributors, however, are inclined, and not without good
reason, to argue that matters were not that simple. For a start, the change of
direction that occurred within Catholicism in the 1960s was neither as radical nor as abrupt as the architects of the Second Vatican Council, and their
many retrospective defenders, have tended to suggest. The reassertion of a
Catholic confessional culture in Europe after 1945 was indeed remarkable
and probably owed less to hierarchical repression than is suggested here by
Gerd-Rainer Horn in his eloquent evocation of the defeat of the Left Catholics
of the immediate postwar years. But the dividing lines between innovation
and tradition were never clear-cut. This is a point well made in a splendidly
subversive essay by Étienne Fouilloux, in which he enjoys demonstrating that
the ideas of a nouvelle chrétienté advocated by many soi-disant progressive
Catholic intellectuals since the 1930s were always characterized by an
“ambiguïté congénitale” (p. 48). For all of the rhetorical rejection engaged in
by figures such as Jacques Maritain of a somewhat parodic ghetto
Catholicism, their ideas always retained space for the dream of a rechristianization of society, which owed much to the militant Catholicism of the interwar years. The formulations of intellectuals have, however, perhaps occupied
too prominent a position in accounts of Catholic change. In an important article, Lodewijk Winkeler pays due attention to the dogmatic relativism that he
identifies as having developed almost clandestinely among Dutch theologians
long before the Second Vatican Council, but rightly places this change in the
context of a much broader change in the mentality of the professionals of
Dutch Catholicism: seminary teachers, medical and welfare bureaucrats,
mental health and youth workers, and, indeed, priests. As Winkeler’s contribution strongly conveys, a remorseless process of change gathered pace in a
semi-visible form among these professionals from the 1940s onward, as they
rejected a specifically Catholic worldview in favor of a more neutral definition of their responsibilities.
One might, if one wishes, describe this process as a secularization of
Catholicism from within; and, as such, it probably has greater force than the
more ritual references, almost inevitably present in this volume, to an external process of secularization of society, associated with the supposedly corrosive impact on the Catholic faith of pop music, television, and new forms of
female-oriented consumerism. Secularization, however, is an awkward tool,
which seeks to squeeze the impact of long-term processes of social change
into the short time period of the 1960s and 1970s. As defined in a more
sophisticated way in this volume by Dobbelaere and Billiet, it is stripped of its
headline processes of social revolution and becomes a more intangible
process of “functional differentiation” (p. 140), which eroded the holistic
unity of Catholic institutions and faithful. Or, to put it more directly,
Catholicism fell apart. The Catholic faith was not demolished (as Pasture
seems on occasions inclined to suggest) by the eruption of television into
Breton living rooms in the 1960s. More interestingly, the Church—or at least
the personnel of its leading institutions (political parties, trade unions, welfare

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organizations, and, ultimately, the clergy)—decided to disassemble itself and,
in doing so, effectively removed the principal manifestation of formal religion
from the fabric of European late-modernity.
Whether that has led, as Steve Bruce (incidentally, a homonym of a prominent English soccer manager) has argued, to the death of God (in Europe) or
to what Danièle Hervieu-Léger terms more subtly a “société amnésiaque,” in
which much of the population has lost the memory of its Christian past, is
less certain. As soccer fans well know, teams that go down can also come
back up, although whether that can happen when the players have themselves dissolved the team seems rather less certain.
MARTIN CONWAY

Balliol College, Oxford
American

Evangelicals at a Crossroads: Revivalism and Social Reform in Boston,
1860–1910. By Benjamin L. Hartley. [Revisiting New England: The New
Regionalism.] (Durham, NH: University of New Hampshire Press; Hanover,
NH: University of New England Press. 2011. Pp. xiv, 288. $85.00 clothbound, ISBN 978-1-584-65928-0; $39.95 paperback, ISBN 978-1-58465929-7.)
The history of religion in Boston seems simple, a play neatly divided into
two acts. In the first, Puritan Congregationalism arrives with English settlement and remains predominant for two centuries. In act 2, Catholic immigrants show up, and, soon enough, they replace that story with their own.
Cardinal William O’Connell summarized it neatly when he became the city’s
archbishop at the beginning of the twentieth century: “The Puritan has
passed; the Catholic remains” (p. 165). Minor characters appeared on stage
briefly, entering and exiting, but they did not affect the course of the drama.
One of the virtues of Benjamin Hartley’s revised dissertation is that he puts a
variety of “upstart” evangelicals—Methodists, Baptists, members of the
Salvation Army, and nondenominational groups generally from the holiness
tradition—back into the account. By looking at these religious groups and at
the social welfare institutions and agencies they established, he broadens our
perspective on this intensely religious city.
The connection between religious mission and social mission is the focus
here, the key to the not entirely successful crossroads metaphor of the title.
Boston’s evangelicals were active at promoting both. The massive 1877
revival staged by Dwight Moody, attracting 6000 worshipers every night for
three months, opens Hartley’s account, but even more useful is his recovery
of the many enduring institutions produced and sustained by that energy.
These included hospitals and foundling homes (the graphically, if sentimentally, named Home for Little Wanderers, for instance), as well as institutions

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that are not thought of today as religious: Morgan Memorial/Goodwill
Industries and even the New England Conservatory of Music. In all cases, the
motive of “reclaiming” the city from Catholic newcomers was never very far
beneath the surface. After successive waves of immigration, Boston might
well have claimed to be the most Catholic place in America—eleven parishes
in the city at the end of the Civil War; forty-four by the turn of the century—
and evangelical leaders were eager to stem that tide. They resorted to familiar anti-Catholic rhetoric with gusto, although it seems tame in comparison
with such rhetoric earlier and elsewhere. They had no doubt of the urgent
need to counter the expanding influence of “Romanism,” and their efforts
came to focus particularly on the city’s North End.That neighborhood was in
the process of transitioning from predominantly Irish to predominantly
Italian, but it remained Catholic throughout and thus in need of evangelical
redemption. Hartley has scoured archival collections, newspapers and magazines (both common and ephemeral), and the broad secondary literature to
present a rich account of these efforts. He is factually sure-footed, with only
the occasional minor slip—the Pilot newspaper, for instance, was an independent Irish American journal at this time, not the official paper of the
Catholic archdiocese that it would later become.
In the end, the Catholic tide proved irresistible. The triumph in politics of
first- and second-generation immigrants was complete by the time of World
War I, and evangelical energies turned in other directions. Foreign missions
seemed a more pressing need than their domestic counterparts, and internal
fragmentation dissipated evangelical energy as many former “upstarts” succumbed to the lure of respectability. In charting the long arc of religion and
reform from these unexpected sources, however, Hartley has added usefully
to what historians know of the religious life of the city.
Boston College

JAMES M. O’TOOLE

Right in Michigan’s Grassroots: From the KKK to the Michigan Militia. By
JoEllen McNergney Vinyard. (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press,
2011. Pp. xii, 363. $70.00 clothbound, ISBN 978-0-472-07159-3; $27.95
paperback, ISBN 978-0-472-05159-5.)
Michigan has long been regarded as an incubator of right-wing extremism.
If its reputation in this respect is arguably exaggerated—the state was politically progressive for much of the twentieth century—JoEllen Vinyard faced
no lack of material when it came to compiling her survey of right-wing movements in Michigan from the 1920s to the present. She devotes well-documented chapters to the Ku Klux Klan, the diffuse movement led and personified by Father Charles Coughlin, the John Birch Society, the antibusing
movement of the 1970s, and the notorious Michigan Militia.
The breadth of Vinyard’s coverage—the several movements she surveys,
the wealth of detail she affords—is a principal strength of the book. But it is

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also a weakness. The various movements she discusses were loosely united
by a deep distrust of established authority and a predilection for conspiracy
theories. All had authoritarian tendencies as well. In other important
respects, however, these movements were very different. Catholics did not
join the Ku Klux Klan, which pushed hard in Michigan to pass a law that
would have closed most Catholic schools in the state.The movement led by
Coughlin, although ecumenical in its rhetoric, appealed more strongly to
Catholics than to any other group. Nor was Coughlin’s odd fusion of populist
monetary theory and Catholic social teaching remotely congruent with the
small-business orientation of the local Klan. The John Birch Society in
Michigan attracted mostly the affluent and functioned primarily as a radical
caucus within the Michigan Republican Party. The Michigan Militia, by contrast, seems to have flourished largely in response to the state’s late-century
economic implosion. Unlike the highly organized Birchers, the Michigan
Militia—for all its trafficking in military metaphors—appears to be remarkably inchoate in its structure and functioning.
Given the variety in the movements she studies, Vinyard finds it hard to
talk systematically about causality. She frequently cites rapid economic and
demographic change in Michigan as critical to the sense of unease obviously
experienced by her various subjects. Characterized through the 1940s by
rapid economic growth—interrupted for a time by the Depression—and a
continuous influx of ethnically varied new residents, the state since the 1950s
has suffered disproportionately from de-industrialization and slowed population growth. Both growth and decline, Vinyard argues, were potentially anxiety-producing, especially given the rapidity with which change occurred. Fair
enough. But why do certain kinds of people gravitate to certain kinds of
movements to assuage their unease? Did membership in a union or a particular church affect the likelihood that one would respond to change in a particular way? And why have African Americans, who as a group have suffered
most from the state’s economic decline, been so notably absent from rightwing activism in recent decades? As to the categories of “right” and “left,” one
wonders whether they are adequate for purposes of analyzing grassroots
movements. How shall we characterize the anti-abortion movement, a genuinely popular phenomenon in Michigan that spurred an impressive amount
of citizen-activism, especially among women? Rather like the initial stages of
the Coughlin movement, the anti-abortion movement in Michigan was both
conservative and progressive in its goals and ideology.
Vinyard’s book does teach a great deal about Michigan. She analyzes her
frequently unattractive subjects in nonjudgmental fashion, trying hard to see
the world from their point of view. This is true even of the Michigan Militia,
some of whose members she came to know in the course of her extensive
research.Vinyard’s book is both a model of scholarly balance and a tribute to
her zeal as a researcher.
The Catholic University of America

LESLIE WOODCOCK TENTLER

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A Catholic Brain Trust: The History of the Catholic Commission on
Intellectual and Cultural Affairs, 1945–1965. By Patrick J. Hayes. (Notre
Dame: University of Notre Dame Press. 2011. Pp. viii, 432. $75.00. ISBN 9780-268-03109-1.)
Founded in 1945 by (mostly American) Catholic intellectuals boldly to
shape Catholic identity in the United States and beyond, and thus to influence
the culture nationally and internationally, the Catholic Commission on
Intellectual and Cultural Affairs (CCICA) met annually, formed committees,
drafted policy statements, sent delegations, tried (unsuccessfully) to prepare
a new Catholic encyclopedia, and recruited and vetted members who would
“be representative of Catholic intellectual and cultural interests” (p. 40) until
2007, when it quietly dissolved itself. In A Catholic Brain Trust: The History
of the Catholic Commission on Intellectual and Cultural Affairs, 1945–65,
Patrick J. Hayes, assistant archivist for the Baltimore Province of the
Redemptorists, tells the story of the CCICA’s ambitious, uneven, and—in some
cases—almost quaint activities during the first twenty years of its existence.
This careful study of a little-known but stunningly ambitious effort on the part
of American Catholic intellectuals to come of age is the history of American
Catholicism in microcosm.
Although the CCICA’s membership never exceeded 300 at any given time,
its rolls have included Monsignor John Tracy Ellis, Jerome Kerwin, Yves
Simon, Jacques Maritain,Vernon Burke, Clare Boothe Luce, Heinrich Rommen,
Thomas Merton, Dorothy Day, Daniel Berrigan, Corita Kent, Bernard Lonergan,
Margaret O’Brien Steinfels, Stephan Kuttner, John T. Noonan Jr., Monsignor
Robert Trisco, Lindy Boggs, and many others of comparable distinction and
intellectual influence in varied quarters. Supreme Court Justices William
Brennan and Antonin Scalia have been members. During the Second Vatican
Council, eleven current and future CCICA members served as periti to the
Council fathers. No member of the Kennedy family has ever been a member.
In the years covered by Hayes, the CCICA dedicated its first efforts to postwar intellectual renewal, including through influence on UNESCO’s drafting
of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Next came internal debates and
public advocacy concerning church-state relations, with John Courtney
Murray, one of the CCICA’s founders, using the group in the late 1940s to
hone the arguments that would embroil him in trouble in the 1950s. The
chapter on mid-century debates on church-state relations in America will be
a real help to those who study questions of religious liberty and the liberty of
the Church today. The book’s later chapters cover Ellis’s bombshell 1955 lecture “American Catholics and the Intellectual Life” and its aftermath, as well
as the CCICA’s failed attempt to produce a new Catholic encyclopedia.When
others produced the New Catholic Encyclopedia, the CCICA “merited only a
half-column entry in volume 3 by one of its own” (p. 223). The scholarship
that lies behind this book will provide invaluable assistance and context to

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discussions of the Catholic life, growth, decline, and teaching in the United
Stqtes in the second half of the twentieth century.
What happened when the CCICA dissolved itself in 2007, following a
period of quiescence, speaks volumes—it divided its remaining resources
between First Things and Commonweal. Not with a bang, but a whimper.
This reviewer, who was a member of the CCICA since 1997, never received
word of the group’s dissolution. At least one leading American Catholic intellectual still lists himself as an active member of the CCICA, and surely there
are others.
Villanova University School of Law

PATRICK MCKINLEY BRENNAN

From Bible Belt to Sun Belt: Plain-Folk Religion, Grassroots Politics and the
Rise of Evangelical Conservatism. By Darren Dochuk. (New York: Norton.
2011. Pp. xxiv, 520. $29.95. ISBN 978-0-393-06682-1.)
From Bible Belt to Sun Belt by Darren Dochuk explores more than the
intersection of religion and politics in contemporary America, as its receipt of
the prestigious Nivens Prize from the Society of American Historians indicates. In it, he also details the economic and cultural transformation of
Southern California from the 1930s to the 1980s that led to the nationwide
dissemination of the conservative views that influenced the rise of the
Christian Right in American politics. As such, it is as much a regional history
as it is a volume on religion and politics. Consulting myriad primary-source
materials from periodicals, twenty-six personal interviews, forty-seven manuscript collections, and contemporary secondary sources that compose twelve
pages, Dochuk has assembled an impressive collection of information from
which to synthesize his thesis.
Beginning with the Dust Bowl migrations to Southern California, Dochuk
describes marginal economic and religious outsiders who made the transition
to economic and social respectability over the next thirty years. By the 1960s,
thirty years of background work in conservative economic education and
anticommunist activism by a number of eccentric but powerful speakers had
produced significant results. Dochuk singles out three for special attention in
this story. George S. Benson (president of Harding University and instrumental in its National Education Program), John Brown (founder of several educational institutions in Arkansas and California as well as of a prominent evangelical radio station in Southern California), and George Pepperdine (founder
of the Western Auto nationwide chain of automotive specialty stories and
Pepperdine University) created a network of media outlets, educational institutions, and evangelical Christian organizations that proved to be the catalyst
for the emergence of the Religious Right in national politics.
According to Dochuk, Southern California became the financial and educational center of the New Christian Right as the upwardly mobile evangeli-

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cal Christians from the South and Southwest found work in the new defense
industries that dominated the region’s economy. As they prospered in the
new environment, they refused to enter the more liberal economic and political mainstream that had dominated California politics. Instead, they used
their newfound wealth to create bigger and more respectable church buildings while maintaining and even increasing their conservative religious philosophy against the onslaught of a religious community that was steadily
moving toward a more liberal theology. Evangelical leaders in Southern
California constantly battled against the National Council of Churches and its
“social gospel and postmillennial doctrine that suggested that the world
would get better over time” (p. 161). The vast majority of evangelical
Christians in Southern California adopted the premillennial view that individual salvation required personal commitment and constant vigilance
against the creeping socialism of the liberal establishment and the threat of a
worldwide communist takeover that would stamp out conservative Christian
institutions.
Several factors led to the sharp division in California politics that
prompted evangelical Christians to forcefully enter state and national politics
on the conservative bandwagon. Dochuk details the influence of various
labor conflicts of the 1940s, including violent strikes against the movie industry led by communist sympathizers in organized labor and the arguments
over “the eighty different old-age welfare schemes that had been proposed in
California in the 1930s” (p. 88). It was at this point that Southern California
evangelicals were introduced to Benson, Brown, and Pepperdine, who had
launched a “bold political venture” with “conservative businessmen and intellectuals . . . to combat what they thought was an entrenchment of a permanent New Deal, social welfare state” (p. 113). With the help and support of
Ronald Reagan, Billy Graham,Walter Knott, and Pat Boone popularizing their
message and hundreds of conservative evangelical institutions providing the
resources, Dochuk argues convincingly that these conservative political
activists and their victories in Southern California led eventually to the presidency of Reagan and the prominence of the New Religious Right in American
politics ever since.
Faulkner University
Montgomery, AL

L. EDWARD HICKS

No Closure: Catholic Practice and Boston’s Parish Shutdowns. By John C.
Seitz. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. 2011. Pp. viii, 314. $39.95.
ISBN 978-0-674-05302-1.)
The Occupy movements that seized Americans’ hearts and minds during
2011 relied on some tactics already familiar to the angered Catholics who had
staged parish occupations in the previous eight years to prevent the closure
of their parishes by order of their bishops. John Seitz provides a fine, compact

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401

ethnographic study of the recent and current struggle in the Archdiocese of
Boston between lay Catholics and the hierarchy, which since 2004 has
attempted to close as many as 137 parishes. There, resisters occupied their
targeted parishes by holding vigil services; staying round-the-clock inside
church buildings; and keeping the archbishop on notice that they would not
abandon their beloved parishes, even against threat of police intervention and
arrest.
Grassroots resistance to the hierarchy’s decisions to close parishes
began in Worcester, Massachusetts, and soon inspired parishes in Boston
and elsewhere, often through direct sharing of personnel, tactical advice,
and legal and spiritual support. The Archdiocese of Boston, whose leader,
Cardinal Bernard Law, had been exposed as presiding over the cover-up of
the clergy sexual abuse scandal that broke there in 2002, was still reeling
from that shock when announcement of the parish closures followed less
than two years later. By then, Law had resigned, but was seemingly
rewarded by the Holy See with a promotion to a plush position in Rome,
further aggravating the anger and grief in his wake. His successor in
Boston, Cardinal Seán P. O’Malley, a Capuchin Franciscan, has been obliged
to conduct the mandated parish closings, steering a cautious line between
persuasion and force. Seitz documents how the faithful resisters now represent an unfamiliar third-party position in the Church—they are not
desirous of leaving the Church, nor do they consent to attend the new
parish assigned to them by the archdiocese.
Seitz, then a graduate student at Harvard Divinity School, began his study
of local events in August 2004 at the Mass held on Boston Common organized
by Voice of the Faithful and led by pastors who also disagreed with the parish
closures. He conducted fieldwork in parishes for about three and a half years,
including observation and interviews with more than fifty resisters, pastors,
and other Catholics involved in the Boston area. From his examination of the
emergence of faith-inspired grassroots organizations, Seitz discerned that
Catholics tend to privilege the actual practice of their faith above the doctrinal issues that often concern the clergy, often creating tension between the
Church’s antidemocratic hierarchical structure, and the concerns of laity for
the buildings, objects, and events that compose parish life. Clearly outlining
his goals as neither trying to lionize the resistance nor “popular” religiosity,
nor to define a “true” or “false” Catholicism, Seitz presents his evidence with
sensitivity and clarity. (He opted to change the names of his informants to protect them from any possible retribution.)
Throughout the book he employs the dual themes of sacrifice and sacred
presence to explore the rhetoric used by clergy and laity alike in their quests
to achieve a certain actualization of “the Church.” Is it the actual buildings, or
the people who inhabit them? Has the logic of sacrifice on behalf of the
Church lost its power of persuasion? The first two chapters treat the histories

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of the parishes slated for closing, at least half of which are ethnic parishes,
whereas the two subsequent chapters deal with how the ecclesial and liturgical changes of the Second Vatican Council prepared the way for the
responses of the organizers at the closing parishes, who combine responses
from past and modern traditions. Chapter 5 deals with the complex meanings
of resistance and an epilogue catches up with the very recent dimensions of
the conflict. Participants and observers alike are left to wonder what has happened to Pope John XXIII’s famous plea for the Catholic Church to use the
“medicine of mercy rather than that of severity” (p. 25) in its dealings with the
modern world.
PAULA KANE

University of Pittsburgh
Latin American

Shrines and Miraculous Images: Religious Life in Mexico before the Reform.
By William B. Taylor. [Religions of the Americas Series.] (Albuquerque:
University of New Mexico Press. 2010. Pp. xvi, 288. $37.95. ISBN 978-0-82634853-1.)
Marvels & Miracles in Late Colonial Mexico: Three Texts in Context. By
William B. Taylor. [Religions of the Americas Series.] (Albuquerque:
University of New Mexico Press. 2011. Pp. x, 149. $34.95. ISBN 978-0-82634975-0.)
The two volumes under review here are companion volumes. The first is
an historical study; the second is a case study of three devotions that illustrate
the first.
Shrines and Miraculous Images is divided into three sections. The first
deals with images and shrines in colonial Mexico, and their meaning and
importance. It gives samples of two shrines to Cristo Renovado. Part II deals
with Our Lady of Guadalupe, and part III goes beyond the colonial period to
the national period.
Part 1, chapter 1, deals with images and immanence in colonial Mexico. He
points out how vital religious images have been for individual and collective
well-being in Mexico.“Clearly, the images . . . were more than objects or ‘representations’” (p. 18). They invited the kind of devout response that could
lead to direct apprehension of the divine (p. 19). The power of images passed
to reproductions. “A copy could still be an ‘original’ in the religious sense—
an image exercising power over believers by its actual presence” (p. 46).
Under the Bourbons there was a tendency toward greater regulation,
although not suppression, of the former baroque practices.
Part 1, chapter 2, illustrates this with the devotion to the shrines of Cristo
Renovado. It is a complex story that involves native politics and the fact that

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there were two shrines to the devotion, at Mapethé and Ixmiquilpan. It was
also closely related to Otomí self-definition and identity, as the author notes:
On the Otomí side, devotees of the Cristo renovado understood themselves in various terms—as members or allies of competing extended
families, as men and women with gendered duties and loyalties, as residents of a dispersed settlement within a township, as fellow devotees, and
as Catholics and subjects of the Spanish king under the sign of the cross.
(p. 93)
In part 2, chapter 3, he begins a close study of the supremely popular
devotion to Our Lady of Guadalupe. The author follows the convoluted story
of the origins of the shrine and devotion, noting the many historical difficulties involved. He narrates the story of the “four evangelists,” the clerics who
first formulated the Guadalupe tradition. Did they make memory, or mostly
capture and codify it? One of the author’s most important contributions is a
detailed study of the financial records of the shrine at Tepeyac. He shows
how the devotion waxed and waned in the late-seventeenth century before
coming to fruition in the eighteenth. He does not accept, at least without
qualification, the theory that Guadalupe was a sign of creole protonationalism. He also sees the devotion as antecedent to, or at least growing, before the
publication of Miguel Sánchez’s Imagen de la Virgen (1648), the first account
of the apparition tradition. However, he does not mention the surprise caused
by that book among the clergy and laity of Mexico City. Neither does he mention that the date of December 12 as a feast day first appeared in Mateo de la
Cruz’s abridgement of Sánchez’s book, although he does refer to the fact that
for a long period Spaniards and Indians celebrated the feast on different dates.
In chapter 4, he deals with Guadalupe in eighteenth-century Mexico. After
a great epidemic, Juan Antonio de Vizarrón y Eguiarreta, archbishop of
Mexico, proclaimed Guadalupe patroness of Mexico City and New Spain in
1737. A great period of growth came after 1754 and papal approbation of the
miracle and patronage. The Indian devotion became more prominent in the
period from the 1740s to the 1800s (p. 127). He points out that although
Guadalupe was a devotion to be found throughout Mexico, Tepeyac was not
a place of pilgrimage—at least not from distant places (pp. 130, 141).
The author devotes chapter 5 to Guadalupe, Remedios, and cultural politics of the independence period. He believes that in that time the devotion to
Guadalupe was actively promoted (pp. 140–41). His conclusion is that
Guadalupe was a “shared symbol” (p. 145). He discounts the idea that
Remedios was totally “the royalist, gachupín Virgin than might be supposed”
(p. 154).
Part III carries the reader beyond the colonial period. Chapter 6 contains
an illuminating explanation of the role of ex voto offerings and growth of
new shrines after independence.

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This is precisely the kind of book that one expects from William B. Taylor:
meticulous research into original sources; challenging but not overstated
conclusions; a readable, if at times dense, literary style. Still, there are some
major flaws, not in the content but, apparently, in editorial decisions made
by the press. The endnotes are excessively numerous and cause the reader
to flip constantly from text to notes. Also, at the beginning of the notes there
is no explanation of the abbreviations for the various repositories consulted.
Some readers will be able to reconstruct them, but others may find themselves mystified. Most disturbing of all is that this book has no bibliography.
If one wants data on a reference, it is necessary to scour the footnotes to find
the first citation.
Marvels & Miracles in Late Colonial Mexico, the companion volume,
reproduces in translation the documentation of three little-known colonial
Mexican devotions: Our Lady of the Walnut Tree (nogal); Our Lady in the
Kernel of Corn; and Our Lady of Intercession (patrocinio). The author concludes, “These records provide an opportunity to glimpse an apparition story
taking shape in the late eighteenth century, one that was not altogether
acceptable to higher church authorities” (p. 24). Some nonspecialists may find
the documentation rather intimidating. All readers, however, can gain by
some of his summaries. Again, there is an enlightening treatment of ex-voto
offerings. There is an excellent brief treatment of the trajectory of Franciscan
history over two centuries. He neatly summarizes a change of attitude toward
the natives. The early friars viewed the Indians as children, meaning childlike
and innocent; the potential to become Christian was great. Two centuries
later, it was more that they were childish, disobedient, mischief-makers, if not
devious idolaters (p. 82).
Unfortunately, the same editorial policies seem to have governed this
second volume, the most serious being the lack of a bibliography.
Despite these flaws, these two books are a fascinating and original insight
into the social and religious history of colonial Mexico.
Los Angeles, CA

STAFFORD POOLE, C.M.

Allies at Odds: The Andean Church and Its Indigenous Agents, 1583–1671.
By John Charles. (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. 2010. Pp.
xi, 283. $27.95 paperback. ISBN 978-0-826-34831-9.)
Here is an outstanding analysis of the process of the linguistic and religious transformation of early-colonial Andean society. Stress is on the
Christian doctrineros and the indigenous elite, who acted as agents, allies, and
at times antagonists in the formation of the new order. Well-constructed and
elegantly written chapters broken into short subsections allow for a quick
read. In the introduction John Charles examines the intractable question of
how to measure “literacy” in the Andean context. The role of teachers and

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their native Andean students, as well as the sources and their preparation that
contributed to the “making of a literate Andean society” (p. 13), are probed.
In the chapter “Catechesis in Quechua,” the creation of a “standard
Quechua,” almost entirely by the doctrineros, is examined. In their methodical efforts religious compiled dictionaries and grammars, then translated the
critical religious texts into Andeans’ tongues. In this process they developed
a Quechua with broad application to avoid confusion between multiple
translations based on regional dialects. Charles moves in the next chapter to
what he calls “mediating with cords” (p. 71)—the use of the precolumbian
khipu well into the colonial period. Many specialists thought the knotted
multicolored cords were used to record quantities, but there is increasing
recognition that they had other uses as well. Although many clerics viewed
them as idolatrous objects, they were employed in confession and in remembering elements of the doctrine, and were even presented as evidence in
colonial courts.
Charles next shifts to clerical violence used to subject native parishioners
to the doctrina so as to enforce the Crown’s buena policia to mold Andeans
into good citizens. We have few true Andean responses to the actions of
clergy other than in letters of complaint to the Audiencia and viceroy in Lima,
and even the Crown in Spain. Charles effectively presents case studies to suggest a complex picture of colonial realities in the countryside. He finds that
rivalries between Andean elite families contributed to machinations as they
tried to improve status. The subsequent chapter centers on idolatry, largely
through the eyes of the Andeans. Charles asks: Did they understand what the
clergy considered idolatry, and how did they react? What led to Andean complicity in the investigations of religious inspectors, and what were the consequences? Who denounced idolatry, and what did they gain or lose by denunciations? Charles’s final chapter on “the polemics of practical literacy” covers
a range of topics, from the role of the official “Indian Protector” to the native
mastery of the legal genre and the clerical backlash.
Minor imperfections—some missing source citations, an incomplete
index, the absence of a glossary—are perhaps more the result of the publisher’s decision to conserve space. But the emphasis on the area under the
jurisdiction of the Archdiocese of Lima and Quechua speakers comes at the
cost of scant attention to the vast central-southern Andes where both
Quechua and Aymara were spoken. But this would have required a book
twice as long. Another issue deserving more scrutiny is the provenance of
translations of the religious texts, dictionaries, and grammars. Many of these
were distributed in manuscript often long before they were published.
Because multiple reviewers from various religious orders and the secular
clergy had access to the manuscripts, what impact did that have on later publications? As we know,“borrowing” without attribution was common during
the period.

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Charles’s work is an important complement to a small but growing
number of recent studies of the process of “conversion” of Amerindian peoples. Recently Alan Durston, Angel Ramos, and Juan Carlos Estenssoro Fuchs
have followed the lead of Pierre Duviols, Sabine MacCormack, Kenneth Mills,
and Nicolas Griffiths in their studies of the religious and cultural interactions
in the Andes. This is part of a new religious history—not the study of the successful implanting of Christianity in the New World, but rather a more
nuanced analysis of the give-and-take between opposites that persisted for
generations in the Andean countryside.
Florida International University

NOBLE DAVID COOK

The Andean Hybrid Baroque: Convergent Cultures in the Churches of
Colonial Peru. By Gauvin Alexander Bailey. [History, Languages, and
Cultures of the Spanish and Portuguese Worlds.] (Notre Dame: University
of Notre Dame Press. 2010. Pp. xxii, 642. $75.00. ISBN 978-0-268-02222-8.)
This work constitutes a major contribution to the study of colonial Andean
art and architecture through Bailey’s documentation (photographic, visual
description, and archival) of a corpus of churches located in the geographic
area of Arequipa, Colca, Collao, and Potosí that were primarily constructed
during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, an era he labels Andean
Hybrid Baroque. Although he includes color photographs that enhance his
study, critically missing is a map to clarify the geographic positions of several
hitherto undocumented churches. Bailey’s most important contribution is the
“Documentary Appendices”—175 pages of colonial inventories, including
the arrangement of images within the church and the names of Andean architects and artisans.
Bailey’s book begins with a survey of the late-nineteenth- and twentiethcentury art historical literature on colonial Andean art, including Harold
Wethey, George Kubler, and Pál Keleman, and acknowledging his use of
Wethey as a model. He lauds the groundbreaking work of Teresa Gisbert and
José de Mesa, and utilizes the comprehensive study of Ramón Gutiérrez et al.,
Arquitectura del altiplano peruano (Buenos Aires, 1986), whose interdisciplinary study also employed extensive archival resources.
Bailey’s approach is purely descriptive, and although he frequently cites
art historians Tom Cummins and Carolyn Dean in his discussions, he oddly
excludes their contributions from his review of the art historical literature,
suggesting their more comprehensive discussions of colonial art is outside
the domain of art history. Quite the contrary; in the last three decades the
standard art historical practice has been to analyze the work within the context of its social, political, and historical milieu, which is the only way a true
understanding of the significance and cultural dimensions of the production
of the art can be achieved. Not until the final chapters does he attempt to

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place his corpus of images within a social/historical frame and to address the
multiple meanings that these symbolic forms have to the congregations of
indigenous and Spanish heritage.
In the final chapter he ascribes indigenous meaning to certain architectural motifs, but does so without sufficient explanation. For example, he suggests the flat, rectangular floral elements on several façades represent tocapu,
but he never discusses what these floral designs have in common with
abstract Inka tocapu other than the rectangular blocks on which they are
carved. In a second example, he compares the dual social structures of
Andean society (hanan/hurin) that link highland/lowland, civilization/
chaos, and heaven/hell oppositions with textile designs that contrast pampa/
pallai (that is, savage/civilized or chaotic/orderly). He translates this concept
to designs on the façades of churches, equating narrow bands (columns,
friezes, scrolls, angels, birds, monkeys) with pallai (civilized) and more
loosely decorated sections such as the tympanum and large decorative panels
with pampa (uncivilized). These are interesting assertions, but they require
greater elaboration and discussion.
Overall, Bailey has produced a major, but flawed, contribution to the study
of Andean baroque art and architecture. Although the book provides a valuable
resource for future scholars, the author bypassed the opportunity to enrich
our understanding of cultural hybridity and the processes that produce it.
Arizona State University

MARIE TIMBERLAKE

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BRIEF NOTICES

BRIEF NOTICES
Wills, Garry. Augustine’s Confessions: A Biography. [Lives of Great Religious
Books.] (Princeton: Princeton University Press. 2011. Pp. x, 166. $19.95.
ISBN 978-0-691-14357-6.)
Even though it is called “a biography,” this book is rather a book about a
book: the Confessions. Biographical materials are found, but they do not
appear to be the intended focus. Its rapid development of thorny issues suggest that it requires a reader who has read widely enough to recognize when
sweeping statements or clever words hide a disputed issue. It does contribute
a valuable reference to some aspects of present-day scholarship, but there
also is an annoying repetition of some idées reçues that should have been
seen as such.
Chapter 8 sees books 11–13 of the Confessions as culmination, not addendum. Searching into the meaning of the first verses of the book of Genesis, St.
Augustine is already letting his faith seek understanding of the God in whose
name he was baptized: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. What he describes elsewhere as “a theological profession of faith” (p. 27) applies well in this context.
To say that Augustine once saw St. Ambrose, bishop of Milan, as a “demagogic miracle monger” (p. 22) is great prose and terrible history. No text is
provided to check on the source of such an “insight.” The chapter on
Ambrose has much to recommend its omission. It casts their relationship in
negative terms—saying that Ambrose “had no time for Augustine” (p. 50). It
overstates the importance of Augustine’s “Neoplatonist readings” (p. 55). It
sets St. Monica’s question about fasting in a Donatist context—as if anyone
can now say that her initial piety was not Catholic (p. 44). A more careful
reading of the Confessions would narrate those experiences with less bias.
The book is one more addition to the vast number of publications on
Augustine and his work, but it is not the place for an uninformed reader to
begin to know Augustine’s Confessions. ALLAN FITZGERALD, O.S.A. (The
Augustinian Institute, Villanova University)
Poole, Stafford. Pedro Moya de Contreras: Catholic Reform and Royal Power
in New Spain, 1571–1591. Second edition. (Norman: University of
Oklahoma Press. 2011. Pp. xiv, 365. $45.00 paperback. ISBN 978-0-80614171-8.)
Stafford Poole’s political and intellectual biography of Mexico’s first
inquisitor general and later archbishop first appeared in 1987. Poole’s Pedro
Moya de Contreras appeared as a deeply researched and nuanced study of a
complex man, firmly situated in the historiography of institutional church history. As trends and fads have come and gone or come and become part of the

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409

scholarly lexicon—cultural studies, post-structuralism, cultural history—
Poole’s biography has come to be one of those works that stand out as an
exemplar for those seeking an understanding of the religious politics of sixteenth-century Mexico. It ranks among the best institutional histories we have
for the subject and the period along with Robert Ricard’s Spiritual Conquest
(Berkeley, 1966), Richard Greenleaf’s studies on Juan de Zumárraga and the
Inquisition, and John Schwaller’s studies of the clergy. It is driven principally
by archival evidence and a desire to understand the man (Moya de Contreras)
and the time (Mexico’s Church as it emerged in its more formalized period in
the broader context of the Council of Trent and Spanish imperial projects).
This second edition reflects two important qualities of the original work:
(1) its commitment to provide a broad understanding of religious politics, and
(2) its firm commitment to deep and perspicacious archival research. Anyone
looking for an examination of this formative period of the Mexican Church
would be hard pressed to find a better single book. This second edition also
showcases Poole’s formidable research skills. In particular, this second edition
expands the original book’s scope on three fronts. First, Poole has drawn on
recent research by Julio Sánchez Rodríguez on the earlier career of Moya de
Contreras in the Canaries. Second, recent efforts by the Colegio de Michoacán
and Alberto Carrillo Cázares have sought to publish all available documentation on the Third Council of the Mexican Church (1585) over which Moya de
Contreras presided, and this has sharpened Poole’s analysis of Moya de
Contreras’s politics. Third, and perhaps most impressively, Poole has updated
the later stage of Moya de Contreras’s political biography by his own additional research in the Instituto de Valencia de Don Juan in Madrid. In a time
where fanciful theories are sometimes viewed as more impressive than solid
research, Poole sets a high standard for scholars at any stage in their careers
by updating an already an impressive book with more evidence and consideration, born of his enthusiasm for the craft. MARTIN NESVIG (University of
Miami)

NOTES AND COMMENTS
________
Meetings and Conferences
An international colloquium on the theme “Enseigner les nations: regards
et apports de l’histoire”will be held at Laval University in Quebec City on May
23–25, 2012. It will study the place of history in research bearing on the
modalities of the transmission of religious values, beliefs, and practices. The
program and practical information can be found on the Web site
http://enseignerreligions.cieq.ca.
The seventy-ninth annual meeting of the Canadian Catholic Historical
Association will be held on May 28–29, 2012, in conjunction with the annual
congress of the Canadian Federation of the Humanities and Social Sciences at
Wilfrid Laurier University and the University of Waterloo. The main theme of
the congress is “Crossroads: Scholarship in an Uncertain World.” The association invites proposals for scholarly papers, especially those that deal with the
theme as it relates to Canadian Catholic history, but papers treating any
aspect of the history of the Catholic Church or Catholicism in Canada also
will be considered. Proposals for either individual papers or entire sessions or
roundtables of two or three related papers are welcome. Proposals should be
submitted to Jacqueline Gresko, president of the Canadian Catholic Historical
Association and chair of the Program Committee, at jgresko@telus.net.
Information about the congress is available on its Web site, http://www
.congress2012.ca.
The Center for Advanced Holocaust Studies at the United States Holocaust
Memorial Museum in Washington, DC, will conduct its annual seminar for
seminary and religious studies faculty on June 18–22, 2012, under the title
“Understanding Complicity: The Churches’ Role in Nazi Germany.” It will
explore the historical and theological dynamics of the alleged complicity of
churches with the Nazi regime and will be led jointly by Robert Ericksen
(Pacific Lutheran University, Tacoma, WA) and Victoria Barnett (staff director
of the museum’s Committee on Church Relations and the Holocaust). Further
information is available from crc@ushmm.org or tel: 202/488-0469.
The Center for Medieval Culture Studies and the St. Petersburg Society for
Studies of Cultural Heritage of Nicholas of Cusa have announced an international conference on “The Reformation of Martin Luther and European
Philosophy and Culture,” which will be held in St. Petersburg on June 28–30,
2012. Further information may be obtained from the society in care of the

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Faculty of Philosophy in St. Petersburg State University, Mendeleevskaya, 5,
St. Petersburg 199034, Russia; tel: 812-4224261; email: odushin@mail.ru;
WWW: http://philosophy.pu.ru
The Catholic Historical Society of Ireland Centenary Conference will be
held on November 2–3, 2012, and will be hosted by St. Patrick’s College and
the History Department of the National University of Ireland, Maynooth. It
will mark the centenary of the society’s journal Archivium Hibernicum and
will be dedicated to the theme “Ireland, Empire and Christian Civilization.”
Proposals for papers exploring Irish involvement in any empire (Carolingian,
Holy Roman, Ottoman, and so forth) and Christian civilization will be entertained; proposals and inquiries should be submitted by email to Marian Lyons
at marian.lyons@nuim.ie.
Causes of Saints
Hildegard Burjan was beatified on January 29, 2012, in St. Stephen’s
Cathedral in Vienna. She was born into a liberal Jewish family named Freund
on January 30, 1883, in the then-Prussian city of Gorlitz and studied literature,
philosophy, and sociology in the Universities of Zurich and Berlin; she
received a doctorate in 1908. In the preceding year she had married a
Hungarian entrepreneur, Alexander Burjan, and moved with him to Vienna.
She gave birth to a daughter, Elisabeth, against the advice of doctors who had
recommended an abortion for reasons of health.After a period of illness, she
was converted and baptized in 1909. She interested herself in the working
conditions and spiritual welfare of poor women and children and in 1912
founded the Association of Christian Women Home Workers, offering help to
the hungry, creating a support network for families, and combating child
labor. In 1918 she founded the Society for Social Help and the next year the
Congregation of Sisters of “Caritas Socialis” to care for women and children in
difficult situations and also for elderly and terminally ill people; she was a pioneer of the hospice movement in Austria. In 1918 she became active in the
Christian Social Party and in the following year was one of the first women to
be elected to the Austrian Parliament, where she promoted causes such as
equal wages for men and women and social security for the working class as
well as the social and spiritual care of poor families in keeping with the teachings of Pope Leo XIII’s encyclical Rerum Novarum. She died on June 11,
1933, in Vienna. In 1963 Cardinal Franz König, then archbishop of Vienna, initiated her beatification process, and she was declared Venerable in 2007. In
his homily delivered at a Mass of Thanksgiving for the beatification, Cardinal
Christoph Schönborn, archbishop of Vienna, drew the lesson that sanctity is
possible also in political life.
At the fourth ordinary public consistory of his pontificate, held in St.
Peter’s Basilica on February 18, 2012, Pope Benedict XVI decreed that the
canonization ceremony for seven beati will take place on October 21, 2012.

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Among them are Marianne Cope (1838–1918) of the Third Order of St.
Francis in Syracuse and laywoman Catherine (Kateri) Tekakwitha (1656–80),
the “Lily of the Mohawks.”The pontiff had recognized the miracles attributed
to the intercession of each of them on December 19, 2011. The former was
beatified by Pope Benedict XVI in 2005 and the latter by Pope John Paul II in
1980. Blessed Catherine will be the first American Indian to be canonized.
On March 9, 2012, at Solemn Vespers in the Cathedral of the Sacred Heart,
Michael F. Burbidge, bishop of Raleigh, formally opened the cause of beatification and canonization of Father Thomas Frederick Price, cofounder of the
Catholic Foreign Mission Society of America (Maryknoll) and the first native
of North Carolina to be ordained a secular priest. Burbidge previously had
appointed James F. Garneau (Diocese of Raleigh) episcopal delegate for the
cause and Andrea Ambrosi (Rome) postulator for the cause.To the Historical
Commission he also had appointed Thomas A. Lynch (Archdiocese of New
York), Monsignor Robert Trisco (The Catholic University of America), and
Michael Walsh, M.M. (curator, Fathers’ and Brothers’ Records, Maryknoll
Mission Archives); in addition, he named Richard DeClue (St. Patrick’s
Cathedral, Charlotte, NC), Monsignor John J. Williams (St. Joseph’s Catholic
Church, Raleigh), and Paul Griffiths (Duke Divinity School) to the Theological
Commission.The two commissions also held their first meetings on that day.
JaVan Saxon is the promotor of justice, and Angela Godwin Page the notary.
Price was born in Wilmington, NC, on August 19, 1860, and studied at St.
Charles College in Catonsville, MD, and St. Mary’s Seminary in Baltimore
before he was ordained a priest on June 20, 1886, for the Vicariate of North
Carolina. He was appointed pastor in New Bern and for nine years carried
on a horse-and-buggy apostolate throughout his vast parish. In 1897 he
launched The Truth, a monthly magazine of Catholic apologetics addressed
to Protestants that was considered successful. In 1904 at the first meeting
of the Catholic Missionary Union in Washington, DC, he delivered an
address on his missionary methods and met James Anthony Walsh, director
of the Society for the Propagation of the Faith in the Archdiocese of Boston,
but it was not until the International Eucharistic Congress held in Montreal
in 1910 that they planned the founding of the Catholic Foreign Mission
Society. The American hierarchy endorsed their plan, and on June 29, 1911,
the new society was granted temporary approval by Pope Pius X. In the following years Price traveled extensively in the East and Middle West,
extolling home and foreign missions, recruiting vocations, and collecting
funds.When the first group of missionaries was sent abroad after World War
I, Price as the mission superior led them to Yeungkong, South China, in
1918, but, weakened by the climate and the primitive conditions of the mission, he succumbed to an attack of acute appendicitis the following year, on
September 12, 1919, in Hong Kong. In 1936 his remains were transferred to
Maryknoll and entombed in the chapel crypt. His heart was buried in
Nevers, France, near the tomb of St. Bernadette Soubirous, whose example
had greatly inspired him.

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Archives and Manuscript Collections
The exhibition “Lux in Arcana: The Vatican Secret Archives Unveiled” was
opened in the Capitoline Museums of Rome on March 1 and will remain open
until September 9. It was organized to mark the fourth centenary of the
founding of those archives and includes approximately 100 historical documents of great importance such as Pope Clement VII’s letter to the English
Parliament on the matrimonial case of King Henry VIII, the bull of excommunication of Martin Luther, documents from the trial of the Knights Templar in
France, and a letter from St. Bernadette Soubirous to Pope Pius IX.The official
Web site contains a description of the exhibition and photographs and explanations of some of the treasures: http:/www.luxinarcana.org/en/la-mostra
The Pontifical Committee on Historical Sciences has undertaken to compile a catalogue of the papers of the periti at the Second Vatican Council. For
the United States, Tricia Pyne (the Consolidated Archives at St. Mary’s
Seminary and University, Baltimore) has been appointed to collect the data.
Publications
A detailed report on the joint meeting of the Canadian and American
Catholic Historical Associations that was held at the University of St. Michael’s
College at the University of Toronto on April 15–16, 2011, has been published
in the Bulletin of the Canadian Catholic Historical Association for fall 2011
(vol. XXV, no. 2). It is written by Terence J. Fay, S.J., of the University of St.
Michael’s College and is illustrated by four photographs.
On the fourth centenary of his birth an international conference on
Cardinal Giovanni Bona was held at the Santuario di Vicoforte (near Mondovì
in the Province of Cuneo, Piedmont) on June 15–16, 2010. The proceedings
of the conference have now been published in the third issue for that year of
the Rivista di Storia e Letteratura Religiosa (vol. XLVI) under the heading
“Giovanni Bona (1609–1674). La mistica e la storia,” as follows: Carlo Ossola,
“Introduzione” (pp. 485–88); Danilo Zardin,“La ‘biblioteca ideale’ del cardinal
Bona. Note e appunti intorno alle fonti degli scritti ascetici” (pp. 489–514);
Paolo Cozzo,“Il cardinale Giovanni Bona e l’ordine dei foglianti” (pp. 517–30);
Jean-Louis Quantin, “Protecteur et censeur: Giovanni Bona et la culture
religieuse gallicane” (pp. 533–76); and Giancarlo Comino,“La figura del cardinale Bona da un centenario all’altro” (pp. 579–85). The fascicle concludes
with “Il testamento del cardinale Giovanni Bona” edited by Valerio Gigliotti
(pp. 593–98).
“Les musées du Protestantisme” is the theme of the Bulletin de la Société
de l’Histoire du Protestantisme Français for October–December, 2011 (vol.
157). The editors of this issue are Marianne Carbonnier-Burkard and Patrick
Cabanel, who have written the introduction (pp. 469–70). There follow arti-

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cles on spirituality and memory at the museum by Olivier Abel, Patrick
Cabanel, and Daniel Travier; museums of Protestantism in France by Gabrielle
Cadier-Rey, Alain Boyer, Marianne Carbonnier-Burkhard, and Benjamin
Findinier; and those at Geneva and in other countries of refuge by Isabelle
Graesslé, Susanne Lachenicht, and Bertrand Van Ruymbeke. Philippe Joutard
writes the conclusion.
The Department for “Christkatholische Theologie” of the University of
Bern sponsored an international and interdisciplinary symposium on Eduard
Herzog (1841–1924) on April 2, 2011.The proceedings have now been published in the issue for September-December, 2011, of the Internationale
Kirchliche Zeitschrift (vol. 101, no. 3/4). Angela Berlis has written an
“Editorial” (pp. 145–47), and the contributors with their articles are Antje
Kirchhofer-Griasch, “Eduard Herzog: Katholik, Theologe, Bischof. Einführung
in Person und Wirken” (pp. 148–55); Urs von Arx,“Die Berufung von Eduard
Herzog nach Krefeld im Herbst 1872” (pp. 156–75); Angela Berlis,“Brüder im
Bischofsamt, Freunde fürs Leben. Joseph Hubert Reinkens (1821–1896) und
Eduard Herzog (1841–1924)” (pp. 176–200); André Holenstein, “Eduard
Herzog und die Kirchenpolitik der Helvetik. Traditionsbildung in
christkatholischer Perspektive” (pp. 201–14); Sarah Scholl, “Eduard Herzog,
évêque de Genève? Les catholiques nationaux genevois et la formation d’un
diocèse Suisse (1868–1907)” (pp. 215–26); Sarah Boehm-Aebersold, “Die
Ekklesiologie Bischof Eduard Herzogs aufgrund der Auswertung seiner frühen
Korrespondenz” (pp. 227–42); Mark D. Chapman, “Eduard Herzog and the
‘Anglo-American’ Church, c. 1870–1882” (pp. 243–83); Michael Bangert, “«Es
gibt nichts Erhebenderes als eine solche Feier!» Zur Bedeutung liturgischer
Frömmigkeit bei Bischof Eduard Herzog” (pp. 284–301); Isabelle Noth,
“Praktisch-theologische Beobachtungen zu Bischof Eduard Herzogs
Hirtenbriefen am Beispiel der sog. Ohrenbeichte” (pp. 302–09); Peter
Feenstra, “Die Struktur der Predigt Eduard Herzogs. Typologie und
Strukturanalyse” (pp. 310–23); and Urs von Arx, “Bischof Eduard Herzog—
Vorarbeiten und Beiträge zur Forschung in den vergangenen 20 Jahren” (pp.
324–34).
Personal Notices
Several scholars have been appointed correspondents of the Pontifical
Committee on Historical Sciences. The Americans among them are Paul F.
Grendler (emeritus, University of Toronto), Kenneth Pennington (The
Catholic University of America), and Tricia Pyne (the Consolidated Archives at
St. Mary’s Seminary and University, Baltimore).
Mark McGowan has completed a nine-year term as principal and academic
vice-president of the University of St. Michael’s College at the University of
Toronto and now has a year-long administrative sabbatical leave to research
and write on the Church and the media.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE
________
General and Miscellaneous
Inventing Church History. Richard P. Heitzenrater. Church History, 80 (Dec.,
2011), 737–48.
Il martirio cristiano: una prospettiva comparata. Giovanni Filoramo. Studi
Veneziani, LIX (2010), 57–69.
Zum Problem der Ökumenizität von Konzilien. Walter Kardinal Brandmüller.
Annuarium Historiae Conciliorum, 41 (2, 2009), 275–312.
Remembering Tradition: Women’s Monastic Rituals and the Diaconate. Phyllis
Zagano. Theological Studies, 72 (Dec., 2011), 787–811.
Il pellegrinaggio nella storia del cristianesimo e nella vita della Chiesa.
Bilancio e prospetitive. Mario Sensi. Lateranum, LXXVIII (3, 2011),
659–77.
The Cultural Life of the Early Polyphonic Mass: Medieval Context to Modern
Revival. Reinhard Strohm and Andrew Kirkman. Early Music History, 30
(Oct., 2011), 261–70.
João XXIII, o Papa do Concílio. “Veio um homem enviado por Deus cujo nome
era João.” Antonio José de Almeida. Revista Eclesiástica Brasileira, 71
(Oct., 2011), 831–60.
La revisione dell’atteggiamento cattolico verso l’ebraismo e la questione
palestinese sotto il pontificato di Paolo VI. Jörg Ernesti. Istituto Paolo VI,
Notizario n. 62 (Dec., 2011), 44–51.
Die «Regensburger Rede» Papst Benedikts XVI. Ihre Folgen und theologischen
Perspektiven für das Gespräch zwischen katholischer Kirche und Islam.
Dirk Ansorge. Internationale Katholische Zeitschrift Communio, 40
(Sept.–Oct., 2011), 442–56.
Conversatio Morum? The Development of A Declaration on Benedictine
Monastic Life, 1975. Thomas Bailey, OSB. Downside Review, 129 ( July,
2011), 20–35.
Religions and the history of education: a historiography. Deirdre Raftery.
History of Education, 41 ( Jan., 2012), 41–56.
Claiming the Passion: American Fantasies of the Oberammergau Passion Play,
1923–1947. Sonja E. Spear. Church History, 80 (Dec., 2011), 832–62.
415

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PERIODICAL LITERATURE

“So Much Began in Halle”: The Mission Program That Sent Mühlenberg to
America. Robert Kolb. Concordia Historical Institute Quarterly, 84 (Fall,
2011), 26–35.
The Way the Ladies Ride. Richard Almond. History Today, 62 (Feb., 2012),
36–39.
Ancient
Redemptive Almsgiving and Economic Stratification in 2 Clement. David J.
Downs. Journal of Early Christian Studies, 19 (Winter, 2011), 493–517.
Trois cas de conversion chez les Pères de l’Église: Justin, Hilaire et Augustin.
Philippe Henne. Mélanges de Science Religieuse, 68 (4, 2011), 5–17.
Christian Origins in India According to the Alexandrian Tradition. George
Nedungatt, S.J. Orientalia Christiana Periodica, 77 (2, 2011), 399–422.
Redefining Donatism: Moving Forward. Maureen A. Tilley. Augustinian
Studies, 42 (1, 2011), 21–32.
The Search for Confessors at the Council of Nicaea. James A. Kelhoffer.
Journal of Early Christian Studies, 19 (Winter, 2011), 589–99.
Presidency and Procedure at the Early Ecumenical Councils. Richard Price.
Annuarium Historiae Conciliorum, 41 (2, 2009), 241–74.
George of Laodicea: A Historical Reassessment. Mark DelCogliano. Journal of
Ecclesiastical History, 62 (Oct., 2011), 667–92.
Mónica de Thagaste, Madre y «Maestra» de Agustín de Hipona.Tamara Saeteros
Pérez. La Ciudad de Dios, CCXXIV (Sept.–Dec., 2011), 583–617.
La preceptiva antigua y la Regla monástica de san Agustín. Nello Cipriani.
Avgvstinvs, LVI ( July–Dec., 2011), 443–57.
Ambrose’s Jews: The Creation of Judaism and Heterodox Christianity in
Ambrose of Milan’s Expositio evangelii secundum Lucam. Maria Doerfler.
Church History, 80 (Dec., 2011), 749–72.
The Quest for Evagrius of Pontus: A Historiographical Essay. Mark
DelCogliano. American Benedictine Review, 62 (Dec., 2011), 388–401.
How to Teach Genesis 1. 1–19. John Chrysostom and Basil of Caesarea on the
Creation of the World. Isabella Sandwell. Journal of Early Christian
Studies, 19 (Winter, 2011), 539–64.
Das Mosaik „Die Begegnung Melchisedeks mit Abraham“ im Langhaus von S.
Maria Maggiore in Rom und sein zeitgeschichtliches Umfeld. Gerhard
Steigerwald. Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum, 15 (3, 2011), 498–530.
Religious Violence and Eschatology in the Syriac Julian Romance. Daniel L.
Schwartz. Journal of Early Christian Studies, 19 (Winter, 2011), 565–87.
Some conflicts between Christians and Jews in the sixth century. John
Moorhead. Studi Medievali, LII (Dec., 2011), 665–80.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

417

Medieval
Catalogue of liturgical books and fragments in Scotland before 1560. Stephen
Mark Holmes. Innes Review, 62 (Nov., 2011), 127–212.
I miracoli alimentari di San Colombano: l’originalità, la tradizione e la simbologia.Andrea Maraschi. Studi Medievali, LII (Dec., 2011), 517–74.
How Coifi Pierced Christ’s Side: A Re-Examination of Bede’s Ecclesiastical
History, II, Chapter 13. Julia Barrow. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 62
(Oct., 2011), 693–706.
Beyond royal estates and monasteries: landownership in the early medieval
Ardennes. Jean-Pierre Devroey and Nicolas Schroeder. Early Medieval
Europe, 20 (Feb., 2012), 39–69.
New Ideas Expressed in Old Words: The Regula Donati on Female Monastic
Life and Monastic Spirituality.Albrecht Diem. Viator, 43 (1, 2012), 1–38.
Bede’s Hymn to St. Agnes of Rome: The Virgin Martyr as a Male Monastic
Exemplum. Christine Williamson. Viator, 43 (1, 2012), 39–66.
Old Testament Personal Names among the Britons: Their Occurrence and
Significance before the Twelfth Century. John Reuben Davies. Viator, 43 (1,
2012), 175–92.
Calculating Time and the End of Time in the Carolingian World, c. 740–820.
James Palmer. English Historical Review, CXXVI (Dec., 2011), 1307–31.
Christmas Day 800: Charles the Younger, Alcuin and the Frankish Royal
Succession. Carl I. Hammer. English Historical Review, CXXVII (Feb.,
2012), 1–23.
Le Beatus de San Miguel de Escalada. Ricardo Ramon Blasi. Cahiers de civilisation médiévale, 54 ( July–Sept., 2011), 287–323.
Deēsis Deconstructed: Imagining Intercession in the Medieval West. Sean
Gilsdorf. Viator, 43 (1, 2012), 131–73.
Transforming Space, (Per)forming Community: Church Consecration in
Carolingian Europe. Dana M. Polanichka. Viator, 43 (1, 2012), 79–97.
Bernard von Réome und die Datierung der Musica disciplina Aurelians.
Michael Glatthaar. Revue Bénédictine, 121 (Dec., 2011), 357–81.
En marge des invasions vikings:Actard de Nantes et les translations d’évêque
propter infestationem paganorum. Pierre Bauduin. Le Moyen Age, CXVII
(1, 2011), 9–20.
Parvitas regni, villae dominicatae et vassalorum. Note sur un faux diplôme
de Lothaire II au profit de l’abbaye de Stavelot (†862 DD LII 37). Nicolas
Schroeder. Revue Belge de Philologie et d’Histoire, 88 (4, 2010), 921–33.
The Second Recension of the Martyrology of Usuardus. Merete Geert
Andersen. Revue Bénédictine, 121 (Dec., 2011), 382–92.

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PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Le pergamene di santa Maria in Trastevere: storia del fondo ed edizione delle
pergamene anteriori at 1200. Paolo Radiciotti. Mélanges de l’École
Française de Rome, Moyen Âge, 122 (2, 2010), 279–317.
A textual détournement from Paul the Deacon’s Liber de episcopis
Mattensibus to the Vita Clementis. Damien Kempf. Early Medieval
Europe, 20 (Feb., 2012), 1–16.
Individual experiences, collective remembrance and the politics of monastic
reform in high medieval Flanders. Steven Vanderputten. Early Medieval
Europe, 20 (Feb., 2012), 70–89.
Wandering Clerics and Mixed Rituals in the Early Christian North, c. 1000–c.
1150. Ildar H. Garipzanov. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 63 ( Jan.,
2012), 1–17.
Pietro Damiami e la legittimità della liturgia dei solitari.Alessandro Azzimonti.
Aevum, LXXXV (May–Aug., 2011), 341–52.
The date of Psellos’ death, once again: Psellos was not the Michael of
Nikomedeia mentioned by Attaleiates. Anthony Kaldellis. Byzantinische
Zeitschrift, 104 (2, 2011), 651–64.
L’inscription funéraire des XIe–XIIe siècles et son rapport au corps. Une
épigraphie entre texte et image. Vincent Debiais. Cahiers de civilisation
médiévale, 54 (Oct.–Dec., 2011), 337–62.
Identité collective et mémoire des réformes «richardiennes» dans l’historiographie bénédictine en Basse-Lotharingie et au Nord-Est de la France
(XIe–XIIe siècles). Steven Vanderputten. Le Moyen Age, CXVIII (2, 2011),
259–89.
Cîteaux et l’Église militante: ecclésiologie et altérité à travers les enluminures
des manuscrits réalisés sous Étienne Harding (1108–1133). Alessia
Trivellone. Revue historique, CCCXIII (No. 660, Oct., 2011), 713–45.
Un hagiographe face aux critiques. Le recueil des miracles de S. Liesne de
Melun (1136). Édition et traduction du texte. Paulette L’Hermite-Leclercq.
Analecta Bollandiana, 129 (Dec., 2011), 247–323.
Inventing the Exegetical Stained-Glass Window: Suger, Hugh, and a New Elite
Art. Conrad Rudolph. Art Bulletin, 93 (Dec., 2011), 399–422.
Which Augustine? The Naming of the Abbey and Church of St. Augustine,
Bristol. David H. Higgins. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 63 ( Jan., 2012),
18–30.
Frowin of Engelberg: In Praise of Free Choice. Hugh Feiss, O.S.B. American
Benedictine Review, 62 (Dec., 2011), 362–87.
The Ridale Papal Letters and Royal Charter: A Twelfth-Century Anglo-Scottish
Baronial Family, the Papacy, the Law and Charter Diplomatic. Stephen
Marritt. English Historical Review, CXXVI (Dec., 2011), 1332–54.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

419

Peine judiciaire, pénitence et salut entre droit canonique et théologie (XIIe
s.–début du XIIIe s.). Raphaël Eckert. Revue de l’histoire des religions, 228
(Oct.–Dec., 2011), 483–508.
Théologie et politique aux XIIe et XIIIe siècles: Quelques réflexions. Gilbert
Dahan. Revue d’histoire et de philosophie religieuses, 91 (Oct.–Dec.,
2011), 507–23.
Alle origini di un mito borghigiano: Gerardo Tintori e l’hospitale pauperum
di Monza nei secoli XII–XIV. Renato Mambretti. Aevum, LXXXV (May–Aug.,
2011), 509–25.
Metodi d’indagine sulla milizia templare in Italia nord-occidentale
(1142–1308). Elena Bellomo. Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia, LX
IV ( Jan.–June, 2010), 11–37.
Corriger les excès. L’extension des infractions, des délits et des crimes, et les
transformations de la procédure inquisitoire dans les letters pontificales
(milieu du XIIe siècle—fin du pontificat d’Innocent III). Bruno Lemesle.
Revue historique, CCCXIII (No. 660, Oct., 2011), 747–78.
Normativer l’anormal: l’esprit juridique des sommes anti-Vaudois de la fin du
XIIe siècle. Marie Bassano. Revue de l’histoire des religions, 228
(Oct.–Dec., 2011), 541–66.
La bibliothèque médiéval de Saint-Martin-des-Champs à Paris. Charlotte
Denoël. Scriptorium, LXV (1, 2011), 67–108.
L’auditeur et la justice pontificale d’après les registres du pape Innocent III.
Olivier Hanne. Revue d’Histoire de l’Église de France, 97 ( July–Dec.,
2011), 241–67.
La Pieve di Brebbia e gli arcivescovi di Milano nel Dueccento. Gian Paolo G.
Scharf and Luca Fois. Aevum, LXXXV (May–Aug., 2011), 439–56.
Resounding Community:The History and Meaning of Medieval Church Bells.
John H.Arnold and Caroline Goodson. Viator, 43 (1, 2012), 99–130.
Présence du judéo-christianisme hétérodoxe dans l’Histoire orientale de
Jacques de Vitry. Jean Donnadieu. Cahiers de civilisation médiévale, 54
(Oct.–Dec., 2011), 363–75.
Un patriarche latin d’Antioche méconnu: Grazia de Florence (1219). PierreVincent Claverie. Le Moyen Age, CXVII (2, 2011), 81–89.
Francis’s Secret Stigmata. Paroma Chatterjee. Art History, 35 (Feb., 2012),
38–61.
Fire, Foliage and Fury: Vestiges of Midsummer Ritual in Motets for John the
Baptist. Michael Anderson. Early Music History, 30 (Oct., 2011), 1–53.
Un ambasciatore di Federico II in visita alle piramidi: Berardo arcivescovo di
Palermo (a. 1227). Giuseppe Mandalà. Aevum, LXXXV (May–Aug., 2011),
417–38.

420

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Loi ancienne, loi nouvelle et normes chrétiennes dans la théologie scolastique
du XIIIe siècle. Elsa Marmursztejn. Revue de l’histoire des religions, 228
(Oct.–Dec., 2011), 509–39.
Tuscan merchant-bankers and moneyers and their relations with the Roman
Curia in the XIIIth and early XIVth centuries. Ignazio Del Punta. Rivista di
Storia della Chiesa in Italia, LX IV ( Jan.–June, 2010), 39–53.
Le plan de l’évêque. Pour une critique interne de la condemnation du 7 mars
1277. Sylvain Piron. Recherches de Théologie et Philosophie médiévales,
LXXVIII (2, 2011), 383–415.
La collégiale Saint-Seurin de Bordeaux aux XIIIe–XIVe siècles et son élaboration d’une historiographie et d’une idéologie du duché d’Aquitaine anglogascon. Guilhem Papin. Le Moyen Age, CXVII (1, 2011), 43–66.
Inside the Offertory: Aspects of Chronology and Transmission. Joseph Dyer
and Rebecca Maloy. Early Music History, 30 (Oct., 2011), 249–61.
The Devil at Law in the Middle Ages. Karl Shoemaker. Revue de l’histoire des
religions, 228 (Oct.–Dec., 2011), 567–86.
L’interrogatorio dei Templari imprigionati a Carcassonne. Andrea Nicolotti.
Studi Medievali, LII (Dec., 2011), 697–729.
Scolasticism, Viaggio, and Crusade: Marino Sanudo Torsello’s philosophy of
history in Istoria de Romania. Kiril Petkov. Studi Veneziani, LX (2010),
15–35.
Les patronages des paroisses urbaines: le cas du diocèse médiéval de Tournai.
Jacques Pycke. Revue d’Histoire de l’Église de France, 97 ( July–Dec.,
2011), 269–89.
Das Dekret Haec sancta und sein gedanklicher Kontext auf dem Konzil von
Konstanz und auf dem Konzil von Basel. Michiel Decaluwé. Annuarium
Historiae Conciliorum, 41 (2, 2009), 313–40.
Das Basler Konzil (1431–1449) und die europäischen Mächte. Universaler
Anspruch und nationale Wirklichkeiten. Heribert Müller. Historische
Zeitschrift, 293 (Dec., 2011), 593–629.
La bulle Cantate Domino (4 février 1442) et les enjeux éthiopiens du concile
de Florence. Benjamin Weber. Mélanges de l’École Française de Rome,
Moyen Âge, 122 (2, 2010), 441–49.
From Authentic Miracles to a Rhetoric of Authenticity: Examples from the
Canonization and Cult of St. Vincent Ferrer. Laura Ackerman Smoller.
Church History, 80 (Dec., 2011), 773–97.
Violence and Predation in Late Medieval Europe. Daniel Lord Smail.
Comparative Studies in Society and History, 54 ( Jan., 2012), 7–34.
Done de san Domenego. Moniales et pénitentes dominicaines dans la Venise
observante de la première moitié du XVe siècle. Sylvie Duval. Mélanges de
l’École Française de Rome, Moyen Âge, 122 (2, 2010), 393–410.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

421

The Consumption of the Sacred: Popular Piety in a Late Medieval Hungarian
Town. Gabriella Erdélyi. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 63 ( Jan., 2012),
31–60.
Pilgrimage, Cartography, and Devotion: William Wey’s Map of the Holy Land.
Pnina Arad. Viator, 43 (1, 2012), 301–22.
The Demons and the Friars: Illicit Magic and Mendicant Rivalry in
Renaissance Bologna. Tamar Herzig. Renaissance Quarterly, 64 (Winter,
2011), 1025–58.
From Strassburg to Trent: Bishops, Printing and Liturgical Reform in the
Fifteenth Century. Natalia Nowakowska. Past & Present, No. 213 (Nov.,
2011), 3–39.
Sixteenth Century
Bucer, Melanchthon and Zwingli: Erasmus’s Protestants. Michael Mullett.
History Review, 71 (Dec., 2011), 7–11.
Das Lachen der Ketzer. Zur Selbstinszenierung der frühen Reformation.
Anselm Schubert. Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche, 108 (Dec., 2011),
405–30.
Christ in Heavenly Play: Christology Through Mary’s Eyes in the Sermones of
Juana de la Cruz (1481–1534). Jessica A. Boon. Archive for Reformation
History, 102 (2011), 243–65.
The Collective Response of Women to Early Reforming Preaching: Four Small
Communities and Their Preachers Compared. Tom Scott. Archive for
Reformation History, 102 (2011), 7–32.
Omnia sunt communia. Gütergemeinschaft bei Thomas Müntzer? Friedemann
Stengel. Archive for Reformation History, 102 (2011), 133–74.
From Popular, Evangelical Movement to Lutheran Reformation in Denmark.A
Case of Two Reformations. Ole Peter Grell. Archive for Reformation
History, 102 (2011), 33–58.
Baptismal Ritual and the Early Reformation in Braunschweig. Michael J.
Halvorson. Archive for Reformation History, 102 (2011), 59–85.
Wohin mit den Mönchen? Eine unbekannte Quelle zur frühen Reformation in
Gotha und in Westthüringen. Ernst Koch. Archive for Reformation
History, 102 (2011), 87–102.
Orders et congrégations enseignants à l’époque de la Contre-Réforme:
Barnabites, Somasques, Scolopes. Alberto Tanturri. Revue historique,
CCCXIII (No. 660, Oct., 2011), 811–50.
Ratramnus of Corbie, Heinrich Bullinger, and the English Reformation. Hannah
Matis. Viator, 43 (1, 2012), 375–92.

422

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Reformation im Schatten der Politik—Machtkämpfe und kirchliche
Umgestalung in Stettin. Eberhard Völker. Archive for Reformation History,
102 (2011), 103–31.
The Concept of the New Jerusalem among Early Anabaptists in Münster
1534/35. An Interpretation of Political, Social and Religious Rule. Claus
Bernet. Archive for Reformation History, 102 (2011), 175–94.
Il Consiglio di Monsignor Giovio intorno al modo di far l’impresa contra infideli, secondo le consulte fatte da papa Leone Decimo. Ed. Emmanuelle
Pujeau. Studi Veneziani, LXI (2010), 383–408.
Confession, Contention, and Confusion: The Last Words of Robert Barnes and
the Shaping of Theological Identity. Korey D. Maas. Sixteenth Century
Journal, XLII (Fall, 2011), 689–707.
William Cranston: sedis apostolicae in regno Scotie protector. Michael J.
Protheroe. Innes Review, 62 (Nov., 2011), 213–31.
Une politique du portrait? L’héritage calvinien. Olivier Christin et Marion
Deschamp. Archive for Reformation History, 102 (2011), 195–219.
Public Worship and Political Participation in Elizabethan England. Natalie
Mears. Journal of British Studies, 51 ( Jan., 2012), 4–25.
El Calendario romano tridentino tras su promulgación y sus primeras modificaciones (1568–1602). José Antonio Goñi Beásoain de Paulorena.
Ephemerides Liturgicae, CXXV ( July–Sept., 2011), 319–40.
Prodigious Relics: Confessional Argument and the Sacralization of the
Territory in the Munich Kunstkammer of Albrecht V. Katharina Pilaski
Kaliardos. Archive for Reformation History, 102 (2011), 267–95.
I teatini a Capua. Il complesso di Sant’Eligio tra storia e arte. Maria Girardo.
Regnum Dei, LXVI ( Jan.–Dec., 2010), 3–156.
Un vescovo di età moderna nei conti degli antichi banchi napoletani:
Giovanni Battista Del Tufo, C.R. Aniello D’Iorio. Regnum Dei, LXVI
( Jan.–Dec., 2010), 157–82.
Piety and Politics: Aegidius Hunnius’s Sermons on the Lutheran Catechism
(1592). Austra Reinis. Archive for Reformation History,102 (2011), 220–42.
Ancient Prototypes Reinstated: Zuccari’s Encounter of Christ and Veronica
of 1594. Livia Stoenescu. Art Bulletin, XCIII (Dec., 2011), 423–48.
From Sin to Insanity? Suicide Trials in the Spanish Netherlands, Sixteenth and
Seventeenth Centuries. Sonja Deschrijver. Sixteenth Century Journal, XLII
(Winter, 2011), 981–1002.
Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries
In the Shadow of the Idol: Religion in British Art Theory, 1600–1800. Clare
Haynes. Art History, 35 (Feb., 2012), 62–85.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

423

Georg Calixtus, Isaac Casaubon, and the Consensus of Antiquity. Christian
Thorsten Callisen. Journal of the History of Ideas, 73 ( Jan., 2012), 1–23.
The Religiosity of a Former Confucian-Buddhist: The Catholic Faith of Yang
Tingyun.Yu Liu. Journal of the History of Ideas, 73 ( Jan., 2012), 25–46.
The Early Defence of ‘Lambeth Calvinism’: Theological and Pastoral
Responses in a Lincolnshire Parish. John Morgan. Canadian Journal of
History, 46 (Winter, 2011), 495–530.
Italian Intrigue in the Baltics: Myth, Faith, and Politics in the Age of the
Baroque. Ausra Baniulyté. Journal of Early Modern History, 16 (1, 2012),
23–52.
T. Campanella, Liber apologeticus contra impugnantes institutum
Scholarum Piarum. Nuova trascrizione del testo manoscritto con apparato critico e traduzione. Maurizio Erto. Archivum Scholarum Piarum,
XXXV (No. 70, 2011), 107–52.
The Manuscript Sermons of Archbishop John Williams. Stephen Hampton.
Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 62 (Oct., 2011), 707–25.
Thomas Venner: Fifth Monarchist or maverick? Timothy G. Shilston. Social
History, 37 (Feb., 2012), 55–64.
L’Ordine de Malta e Venezia nelle storie veneziane del Seicento sulla Guerra
di Candia. Piero Del Negro. Studi Veneziani, LX (2010), 179–95.
Celibato e sessualità degli ecclesiastici nella Venezia del Seicento. Michela
Miraval. Studi Veneziani, LVIII (2009), 177–217.
Opposition to Anti-Popery in Restoration England. Scott Sowerby. Journal of
British Studies, 51 ( Jan., 2012), 26–49.
Le «Notizie Storiche» del P. Giancarlo Caputi di S. Barbara. Archivum
Scholarum Piarum, XXXV (No. 70, 2011), 3–74.
Rancé et l’héritage trappiste (3). Alban John Krailsheimer. Collectanea
Cisterciensia, 73 (4, 2011), 547–73.
Samuel Pepys and ‘Discourses touching Religion’ under James II. Kate
Loveman. English Historical Review, CXXVII (Feb., 2012), 46–82.
Un plaidoyer de Papebroch dans la querelle des origines carmélitaines
(1688). Bernard Joassart. Analecta Bollandiana, 129 (Dec., 2011), 388–94.
Anglo-French cultural transmission: the case of John Locke and the
Huguenots. Delphine Soulard. Historical Research, LXXXV (Feb., 2012),
105–32.
La pubblica istruzione a Scanno fra sette e ottocento. Alberto Tanturri.
Archivum Scholarum Piarum, XXXV (No. 70, 2011), 75–106.
Ladri sacrilegi e ‘celebranti non promossi’. Le condanne a morte nei rapporti
tra autorità statali e Inquisizione (XVIII sec.) Fabiana Veronese. Studi
Veneziani, LIX (2010), 225–78.

424

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

La direzione spirituale nell’epistolario di Cesare Sportelli (1702–1750).
Alfonso V.Amarante, C.SS.R. Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., LIX (1, 2011),
157–79.
Francesco Antonio Marcucci devoto dei Santi Gaetano Thiene e Andrea
Avellino. Gian Luigi Bruzzone. Regnum Dei, LXVI ( Jan.–Dec., 2010),
183–92.
Historiadores benedictinos de la Congregación de Valladolid ante el cambio
de rito. Juan Pablo Rubio. Studia Monastica, 53 (1, 2011), 97–128.
Del rito hispano al rito romano: la transición litúrgica de los reinos ibéricos
en la España Sagrada de Enrique Flórez. Juan Pablo Rubio Sadia, O.S.B. La
Ciudad de Dios, CCXXIV (Sept.–Dec., 2011), 681–719.
Ebrei e conversioni a Venezia nel Settecento: due casi antitetici a confronto.
Carla Boccato. Studi Veneziani, LXI (2010), 429–55.
Giunta temanziana: la chiesa della Maddalena, un arciprete veronese, PierreJean Mariette e i saluti a Giacomo Quarenghi in partenza per la Moscovia.
Massimo Favilla and Ruggero Rugolo. Studi Veneziani, LX (2010),
279–345.
S. Alfonso con i Gesuiti di Napoli per l’ultima celebrazione della festa di S.
Ignazio celebrata prima della loro espulsione dal Regno (1767). Giuseppe
Orlandi, C.SS.R. Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., LIX (1, 2011), 181–206.
Per la storia della salvaguardia del patrimonio pittorico ecclesiastico veneto: i
casi Padova (1773–1775) e di Treviso (1773–1777). Carla Boccato. Studi
Veneziani, LVIII (2009), 497–513.
Nouvelles recherches sur les manuscripts des anciens Bollandistes. François
Dolbeau. Analecta Bollandiana, 129 (Dec., 2011), 395–457.
Cartas de un agustino sobre el conflicto entre el Emperador José II de Austria
y la Iglesia en el pontificado de Pío VI. María Luisa Gil Meana. La Ciudad
de Dios, CCXXIV (Sept.–Dec., 2011), 721–32.
The Universal Character of the Apostolate of St. Clement Maria Hofbauer.
Maciej Sadowski, C.SS.R. Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., LIX (2, 2011),
257–284.
Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries
Il P. Ventura de Raulica e i Gesuiti (1808–1824). †Francesco Andreu, C. R.
Regnum Dei, LXVI ( Jan.–Dec., 2010), 193–238.
Las tres exclaustraciones de la comunidad benedictina de San Isidro de
Dueñas (1807–1835). Joaquín López Serra, OCSO. Studia Monastica, 53
(1, 2011), 129–259.
Bucarest, ultima fondazione di san Clemente Hofbauer. Marian Brudzisz,
C.SS.R. Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., LIX (2, 2011), 285–346.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

425

El Obispo Pedro de Quevedo y Quintano (1776–1818), víctima de la política
liberal de las Cortes de Cádiz. José Ramón Hernández Figueiredo.
Salmanticensis, 58 (May–Aug., 2011), 315–48.
A Romantic Visionary Among the Orthodox:Archbishop Avgustin and Russian
Messianism in the Napoleonic Wars. James N. Class. St Vladimir’s
Theological Quarterly, 55 (4, 2011), 381–404.
Henry Ryder and the Bath CMS: Evangelical and High Church Controversy in
the Late Hanoverian Church. Mark Smith. Journal of Ecclesiastical
History, 62 (Oct., 2011), 726–43.
Seconde mort ou résurrection de l’Église gallicane? L’Épiscopat français au
défit du concordat de 1817. Rémy Hême de Lacotte. Revue d’Histoire de
l’Église de France, 97 ( July–Dec., 2011), 291–313.
Reactions to Robert Southey’s Life of Wesley (1820) Reconsidered. Peter
Nockles. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 63 ( Jan., 2012), 61–80.
Der erste Redemptorist aus dem alten Ungarn: Johannes Kubán 1797–1866.
Martin Macko, C.SS.R. Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., LIX (2, 2011),
415–28.
P. Vincenzo Ma D’Addiego de S. José de Calasanz prepósito General de la
Orden de las Escuelas Pías (1824–1830). Adolfo García-Durán. Archivum
Scholarum Piarum, XXXV (No. 70, 2011), 155–213.
Von der Erweckung zum konfessionellen Luthertum. Zum 200. Geburtstag
von Missionsinspektor Johann Christian Wallmann. Johannes Wallmann.
Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche, 108 (Dec., 2011), 431–71.
The Renewal of Time and Space: The Missing Element of Discussions about
Nineteenth-Century Premillennialism. Martin Spence. Journal of
Ecclesiastical History, 63 ( Jan., 2012), 81–101.
L’Archivo dei Frari e i suoi archivisti: 1847–1866. Patrizia Stefani. Studi
Veneziani, LVII (2009), 503–47.
La Chiesa nella storia. Note su alcune critiche di Carlo M. Curci al “Gesuita
moderno.” Paola Vismara. Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia, LX IV
( Jan.–June, 2010), 55–69.
Documentos para la biografia del P. Miguel de Pamplona, misionero en
Mesopotamia (1848–1869). José Ángel Echeverría. Laurentianum, 52 (3,
2011), 457–502.
Sesquicentenario de la muerte de la M. M.a Cándida de san Agustín. Teófilo
Viñas Román, O.S.A. La Ciudad de Dios, CCXXIV (Sept.–Dec., 2011),
551–82.
Du rôle des fêtes et de la joie comme moyens d’exciter la jeunesse à l’étude
et de lui inspirer l’amour de l’école. Le cas des Écoles du Dimanche
françaises du XIXe siècle. Anne Ruolt. Revue d’histoire et de philosophie
religieuses, 91 (Oct.–Dec., 2011), 525–48.

426

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Solidez interna y apoyo de la jerarquía: dos logros de Nicolás Mauron durante
su gobierno de la Congregación del Santísimo Redentor. Álvaro Córdoba
Chaves, C.SS.R. Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., LIX (2, 2011), 373–413.
The Greatness of Jacques-Paul Migne:‘Ni un saint ni un savant’.Anthony Ward.
Ephemerides Liturgicae, CXXV ( July–Sept., 2011), 341–58.
Victor-Auguste Dechamps, C.SS.R. und die Debatten um die
Unfehlbarkeitsfrage am 1. Vatikanischen Konzil. Bruno Hidber, C.SS.R.
Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., LIX (2, 2011), 347–72.
The Christian Season and the Protestant Churches in England, c. 1870–1914.
Neil Armstrong. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 62 (Oct., 2011), 744–62.
Newman’s Aesthetic Vision:Theology and the Education of the Whole Person.
Robert C. Christie. Journal of Interdisciplinary Studies, 23 (1–2, 2011),
41–57.
El último y fracasado intento de la Orden Jerónima por recuperar el
Monasterio del Escorial. Gonzalo Díaz García. La Ciudad de Dios, CCXXIV
(Sept.–Dec., 2011), 733–41.
Gründungspläne des Wiener Provinzials Andreas Hamerle in Sarajevo
1888–1889 und seine Visionen in Balkan. Martin Macko, C.SS.R.
Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., LIX (1, 2011), 67–82.
La visión de la Inquisición española de Donato de Berriozábal-Goitia Velar, O.
P. (1893).Alfonso Esponera Cerdán, O.P. Studium, LI (2, 2011), 243–72.
Vitrail, dévotions et canonisations au tournant des XIXe et XXe siècles. JeanFrançois Luneau. Revue d’Histoire de l’Église de France, 97 ( July–Dec.,
2011), 315–35.
Il modernismo in Luigi Sturzo (1871–1959). Salvatore Vacca. Laurentianum,
52 (3, 2011), 359–96.
Girolamo Golubovich e la fondazione dell’Archivum Franciscanum
Historicum (gennaio 1907–aprile 1908). Parte II. Paolo Pieraccini.
Antonianum, LXXXVI ( July–Sept., 2011), 471–505.
Les Rédemptoristes de rite byzantino-ukrainien dans l’archidiocèse de Lviw
dans les années 1913–1939. Mikhaïl Bubnij, C.SS.R. Spicilegium
Historicum C.SS.R., LIX (1, 2011), 83–155.
La plurinazionale diocesi di Fiume nei primi anni del fascismo. Marko
Medved. Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia, LX IV ( Jan.–June, 2010),
71–91.
The ‘Bandon Valley Massacre’ as a Historical Problem. John M. Regan. History,
97 ( Jan., 2012), 70–98.
Catholicism and National Socialism:The Case of Father Wilhelm Senn. Martin
Kitchen. Downside Review, 129 ( July, 2011), 1–19.
Historia de unos colegiales en Ocaña (Toledo) 1936–1939. Pedro González
Tejero, O.P. Studium, LI (2, 2011), 319–30.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

427

Récit d’une conversion religieuse et picturale.Alfred Manessier (1911–1993).
Valérie Buisine. Mélanges de Science Religieuse, 68 (4, 2011), 31–44.
«Incunable». Notas sobre un olvidado Periódico Sacerdotal, fiel testigo de su
tiempo (1948–1973). José María Díaz Moreno, S.J. Miscelánea Comillas, 69
( July–Dec., 2011), 413–41.
The Politicisation of Martin Luther in the German Democratic Republic. John
A. Moses. Pacifica, 24 (Oct., 2011), 283–99.
A wie Auschwitz, B wie Biafra. Der Bürgerkrieg in Nigeria (1967–1970) und
die Universalisierung des Holocaust. Lasse Herten. Zeithistorische
Forschungen, 8 (3, 2011), online.
Authority and Legitimisation: the Intraecclesial Strategy of Archbishop
Ieronymos of Athens. Konstantinos Papastathis. Religion, State and
Society, 39 (4, 2011), 402–19.
American and Canadian
Thomas Hooker and His May 1638 Sermon. Michael Besso. Early American
Studies, 10 (Winter, 2012), 194–225.
The Missionary Explorer-Scientist Father Eusebio Kino, S.J.: Faith, Maps, Sea
Shells and Mission San Xavier del Bac. Hans Bertsch. Catholic Southwest,
22 (2011), 68–85.
American Slavery, American Freedom, American Catholicism. Maura Jane
Farrelly. Early American Studies, 10 (Winter, 2012), 69–100.
Gowan Pamphlet: Baptist Preacher in Slavery and Freedom. Linda Rowe.
Virginia Magazine, 120 (1, 2012), 2–31.
John Heckenwelder’s “Pieces of Secrecy”: Dissimulation and Class in the
Writings of a Moravian Missionary. Kent Murray. Journal of the Early
Republic, 32 (Spring, 2012), 91–126.
“Pen and Ink Communion”: Evangelical Reading and Writing in Antebellum
America. Mary Kelly. New England Quarterly, LXXXIV (Dec., 2011),
555–87.
Black Spiritual Defiance and the Politics of Slavery in Antebellum Louisville.
Bridget Ford. Journal of Southern History, LXXVIII (Feb., 2012), 69–106.
Appreciating Friedrich Lochner—A Founding Father of the Missouri Synod.
Cameron A. MacKenzie. Concordia Historical Institute Quarterly, 84 (Fall,
2011), 36–50.
Friedrich Lochner and Der Hauptgottesdienst. Kevin Hilderbrand. Concordia
Historical Institute Quarterly, 84 (Winter, 2011–2012), 10–39.
Constitutional Reasons for Forming a Synod: An Examination of the 1847
Constitution of the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod. Jack D. Ferguson.
Concordia Historical Institute Quarterly, 84 (Fall, 2011), 6–24.

428

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Summary of “The District-Synod Relations of the Lutheran Church–Missouri
Synod in Historical Perspective.” Ken Schurb. Concordia Historical
Institute Quarterly, 84 (Fall, 2011), 52–66.
From Hispanic Gateway to Border Byway: The Catholic Church in the Middle
Rio Grande District of Coahuila/Texas up to 1884. Robert E.Wright, O.M.I.
Catholic Southwest, 22 (2011), 3–20.
St. John Nepomoucene Neumann (1811–1860)—A Brief Memorial Biography
of the Redemptorist Missionary Priest and Bishop. Gilbert A. Enderle,
C.SS.R. Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., LIX (1, 2011), 3–34.
St. John Neumann’s Spirituality. Richard A. Boever, C.SS.R. Spicilegium
Historicum C.SS.R., LIX (1, 2011), 35–66.
Church Government and the Body Politic:The Religious Logic of Secession in
Tennessee. Laura Rominger Porter. Tennessee Historical Quarterly, LXX
(Summer, 2011), 126–41.
One-Hundred Years of American Catholics and Organized Labor, 1870s–1970s.
Maria Mazzenga. Journal of Catholic Social Thought, 9 (Winter, 2012),
23–42.
Understanding the Religious Gulf between Mary Baker Eddy, Ursula N.
Gestefeld, and Their Churches.Amy B.Voorhees. Church History, 80 (Dec.,
2011), 798–831.
‘Never Mind the Dead Men’: The Damnation of Theron Ware [by Harold
Frederic] and the Salvation of American Protestantism. David Mislin.
Journal of the Historical Society, 11 (Dec., 2011), 463–91.
One Bread, One Body: The Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament in Southeast
Texas.Amanda Bresie. Catholic Southwest, 22 (2011), 21–38.
The Catholic Church, Mexican Ethno-Catholicism, and Inculturation in El
Paso: 1900–1930. Mario García. Catholic Southwest, 22 (2011), 39–47.
“Habits of Vice”: The House of the Good Shepherd and Competing Narratives
of Female Delinquency in Early Twentieth-Century Hartford. Jennifer Cote.
American Catholic Studies, 122 (Winter, 2011), 23–45.
The Redemptorist Influence on the Institute of the Sisters of Service of
Canada. Mary-Clare Havey. Spicilegium Historicum C.SS.R., LIX (2, 2011),
429–50.
The Strong Meat of the Gospel:“Lacouturisme” and the Revival of Asceticism
in North America. Jack Downey. American Catholic Studies, 122 (Winter,
2011), 1–22.
Desegregation of the Catholic Diocese of Charleston, 1950–1974. Mark
Newman. South Carolina Historical Magazine, 112 ( Jan.–Apr., 2011),
5–25.
Father Nathaniel and the Greenwood Movement. Paul T. Murray. Journal of
Mississippi History, LXXII (Fall, 2010), 277–311.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

429

The Pro-Life Movement and Its First Years under Roe. Robert N. Karrer.
American Catholic Studies, 122 (Winter, 2011), 47–72.
That Nothing Be Lost: America, Texas, and the Making of Anglicanorum
Coetibus. Clinton A. Brand. Catholic Southwest, 22 (2011), 48–67.
Latin American
Indoctrination, Conversion, and Belief in the Colonial Iberian World [review
essay]. Asunción Lavrin. Latin American Research Review, 46 (3, 2011),
181–90.
El Cabildo Catedralicio y los Jueces Adjuntos en Lima Colonial (1601–1611).
Alexandre Coello de la Rosa. Colonial Latin American Review, 20 (Dec.,
2011), 331–61.
Clad in flowers: Indigenous Arts and Knowledge in Colonial Mexican
Convents. James M. Cordova. Art Bulletin, 93 (Dec., 2011), 449–67.
Religión y movimiento social: la Cédula del Común y la insurrección de los
Comuneros. Nueva Granada (1781). William Elvis Plata Quezada.
Theologica Xaveriana, 61 ( July–Dec., 2011), 473–508.
El discernimiento cristiano de los hechos de 1810 y 1811 en Venezuela.
Francisco José Virtuoso, S.J. Iter Revista de Teología, 54 ( Jan.–April, 2011),
61–79.
La historia de la República (1813–1944). Luis Ugalde, S.J. Iter Revista de
Teología, 54 ( Jan.–April, 2011), 81–96.
El Concilio Provincial de Cartagena de Indias de 1902. Historia, análisis y
relación con el Concilio Plenario Latinamericano de 1899 (segunda
parte). Victor E. Forero Cabarcas. Annuarium Historiae Conciliorum, 41
(2, 2009), 341–466.
Discernimiento de la democracia venezolana (1945–1998). Wilfredo
González, S.J. Iter Revista de Teología, 54 ( Jan.–April, 2011), 115–28.
Still Looking for Liberation? Lutherans in El Salvador and Nicaragua. Richard
M. Chapman. Journal of Latin American Studies, 44 (Feb., 2012), 39–70.

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED
________
Banchoff, Thomas. Embryo Politics: Ethics and Policy in Atlantic
Democracies. (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. 2011. Pp. x, 294.
$35.00.)
Beckwith, Carl L. (Ed.). Ezekiel, Daniel. [Reformation Commentary on
Scripture. Old Testament XII.] Timothy George (Gen. Ed.). (Downers
Grove, IL: IVP Academic, an imprint of InterVarsity Press. 2012. Pp. lix, 452.
$50.00.)
Chestnut, R. Andrew. Devoted to Death: Santa Muerte, the Skeleton Saint.
(New York: Oxford University Press. 2012. Pp. x, 222. $24.95 paperback.)
Codina, Mónica. Donde Vive la Libertad: Una lectura de Romano Guardini.
(Madrid: Biblioteca Nueva. 2011. Pp. 246. €16,00 paperback.)
De La Torre, Miguel A., and Albert Hernández. The Quest for the Historical
Satan. (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress Press. 2011. Pp. xii, 248. $20.00
paperback.)
Dilcher, Gerhard, and Diego Quaglioni (Eds.). Gli inizi del diritto pubblico, 3:
Verso la costruzione del diritto pubblico tra medioevo e modernità. Die
Anfänge des öffentlichen Rechts, 3: Auf dem Wege zur Etablierung des
öffentlichen Rechts zwischen Mittelalter und Moderne. [Istituto trentino
di cultura.Annali dell’Istituto storico italo-germanico in Trento, Contributi
25.] (Bologna: Società editrice il Mulino; Berlin: Duncker & Humblot. 2011.
Pp. 858. €53,00 paperback.) Among the essays here published are “PapstKonzil—Kardinalskollegium. Das Ringan um die oberste Gewalt in der
Kirche im 15. und 16. Jahrhundert,” by Hans-Jürgen Becker (pp. 27–54);
“Das Römisch-deutsche Reich in der Kanonistik. Die Wahrnehmung seiner
Verfassung im Spätmittelalter,” by Jürgen Miethke (pp. 111–46); and “Zum
Einfluss der Konfessionalisierung auf das Ius publicum des Reichs,” by
Martin Heckel (pp. 347–78).
Dowley, Tim. Christian Music: A Global History. (Minneapolis: Augsburg
Fortress Press. 2011. Pp. 264. $35.00.)
Fitzpatrick, Joseph. The Fall and the Ascent of Man: How Genesis Supports
Darwin. (Lanham, MD: University Press of America. 2012. Pp. xviii, 242.
$32.99 paperback.)
Genovese, Eugene D., and Elizabeth Fox-Genovese. Fatal Self-Deception:
Slaveholding Paternalism in the Old South. (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2011. Pp. xviii, 232. $90.00 clothbound; $26.99 paperback.)
430

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED

431

Graham, Donald. From Eastertide to Ecclesia: John Henry Newman, the
Holy Spirit & the Church. (Milwaukee: Marquette University Press. 2011.
Pp. 232. $25.00 paperback.)
Hastings, Derek. Catholicism & the Roots of Nazism: Religious Identity &
National Socialism. (New York: Oxford University Press. 2011. Pp. xviii,
290. $21.95 paperback.) Originally published in 2010 and reviewed by
Donald J. Dietrich, ante, 97 (2011), 173–74.
Kerby-Fulton, Kathryn. Books under Suspicion: Censorship and Tolerance of
Revelatory Writing in Late Medieval England. (Notre Dame: University of
Notre Dame Press. 2011. Pp. lii, 564. $35.00 paperback.) Originally published in 2006 and reviewed by Barbara Newman, ante, 94 (2008), 356–58.
Larin,Vassa. The Byzantine Hierarchal Divine Liturgy in Arsenij Suxanov’s
Proskinitarij. Text, Translation and Analysis of the Entrance Rites.
[Orientalia Christiana Analecta, 286.] (Rome: Pontificio Istituto Orientale.
2010. Pp. 284. €25,00 paperback.)
McInerny, Ralph. The Very Rich Hours of Jacques Maritain: A Spiritual Life.
(Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press. 2011. Pp. viii, 236. $27.00
paperback.) Originally published in 2003 and reviewed by John Hittinger,
ante, 90 (2004), 568–69.
Oelrich,Anthony. A Church Fully Engaged: Yves Congar’s Vision of Ecclesial
Authority. (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press. 2011. Pp. xiv, 164. $29.95
paperback.)
Peterson, Erik. Theological Tractates. Translated with an introduction and
notes by Michael J. Hollerich. (Stanford: Stanford University Press. 2011. Pp.
xxxiv, 262. $24.95 paperback.)
Rhodes, Elizabeth. Dressed to Kill: Death and Meaning in Zayas’s
Desengaños. (Toronto: University of Toronto Press. 2011. Pp. xiv, 234.
$55.00.)
Rohs, Edward, and Judith Estrine. Raised by the Church: Growing Up in New
York City’s Catholic Orphanages. (New York: Empire State Editions, an
imprint of Fordham University Press. 2012. Pp. xi, 229. $22.95.)
Shea, Mark P. The Work of Mercy: Being the Hands and Heart of Christ.
Foreword by Dan O’Neill. (Cincinnati: Servant Books, an imprint of St.
Anthony Messenger Press. 2011. Pp. xii, 164. $14.99 paperback.)
Turner,Victor, and Edith Turner. Image and Pilgrimage in Christian Culture.
(New York: Columbia University Press. 2011. Pp. lx, 281. $89.50 clothbound; $29.50 paperback; $71.99 ebook.) Originally published in 1978.