The Catholic Historical
Review
VOL. XCIX

JANUARY, 2013

No. 1

THE PLACE OF JERUSALEM IN WESTERN CRUSADING
RITES OF DEPARTURE (1095–1300)
BY

M. CECILIA GAPOSCHKIN*

Crusaders underwent a liturgical rite of departure that was built
upon the rite for departing pilgrims in which a cross blessing was
added to the blessing of scrip and staff. In the twelfth and thirteenth
centuries, the symbolism of the cross and the meaning of the rite
were developing and fluid, but became increasingly associated
with Jerusalem pilgrimage and Jerusalem crusade. In turn, the evocation of Jerusalem was increasingly associated with the physical
and obtainable place of Christ’s life (rather than the eschatological
Jerusalem of the salvific future). The rite also reflected developing
values of crusading spirituality.
Keywords: crusades; Durandus, Bishop William; Jerusalem; liturgy;
taking the cross
One of the biggest problems currently faced by historians of the crusades
is to define the exact role played by the city of Jerusalem, and the Holy
Land generally, in the evolution of the crusade movement.
—Norman Housley1

The role of Jerusalem in crusading—that is, its place in the origins
of, motivations for, and conceptualizations of the practice of crusading—has been an open and debated question ever since Carl Erdmann
*Dr. Gaposchkin is associate professor of history and assistant dean of faculty for
pre-major advising at Dartmouth College, email M.C.Gaposchkin@dartmouth.edu.
1
Norman Housley, Crusading and Warfare in Medieval and Renaissance Europe
(Aldershot, UK, 2001), pp. 17–40, here p. 27.

1

2

THE PLACE OF JERUSALEM IN WESTERN CRUSADING RITES OF DEPARTURE

published his groundbreaking The Origins of the Idea of Crusade in
1935.2 The issue at stake is the very definition of crusading to those
who lived during the crusader period. Erdmann, of course, argued that
even in 1095 Jerusalem was not the original objective of the crusade,
but rather served as a rhetorical or ideological device that overlaid
Pope Urban II’s initial goal of reconciliation with the Eastern Church.
This claim has been much debated in the context of Urban’s own
thinking and more broadly in the history of the crusades. H. E. J.
Cowdrey has argued repeatedly for the centrality of Jerusalem in
Urban’s thinking.3 Jonathan Riley-Smith has taken an expansive view
of crusading (known as the “pluralist view”) that sees many fronts of
crusading,4 whereas Norman Housley has argued that crusade very
quickly became disassociated with Jerusalem. Hans Eberhard Mayer
and Jean Flori maintain that no matter how Jerusalem crusade
infected larger mentalités of holy war, sacred violence, conquest, and
notions of Christianitas, the Holy City always lay at the heart of the
pure idea of crusade.5 Increasingly, we have come to understand crusading as an activity and a form of spirituality rather than as defined
by a specific goal.6 Over the course of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, there existed all variety of crusading—that is, papally sanctioned holy war against an enemy of “the faith,” “the church,” or
“Christ” that incurred a spiritual benefit for the fighter that came to
2

Carl Erdmann, The Origin of the Idea of Crusade (Princeton, 1977).
H. E. J. Cowdrey, “Pope Urban II’s Preaching of the First Crusade,” History, 55
(1970), 177–88; H. E. J. Cowdrey, “Pope Urban II and the Idea of Crusade,” Studi
Medievali, 3, n.s. 36 (1995), 721–52; H. E. J. Cowdrey, “The Reform Papacy and the
Origins of the Crusades,” in Le Concile de Clermont de 1095 et l’appel à la Croisade:
Actes du Colloque Universitaire International de Clermont-Ferrand (23–25 juin
1995) organisé et publié evec le concours du Conseil Régional d’Auvregne (Rome,
1997), pp. 65–83.
4
See, in particular, Jonathan Riley-Smith, The First Crusade and the Idea of
Crusading (Philadelphia, 1986); Jonathan Riley-Smith, The Crusades: a Short History
(New Haven, 1987); Jonathan Riley-Smith, The First Crusaders: 1095–1131 (New York,
1997); Jonathan Riley-Smith, The Crusades, Christianity, and Islam (New York, 2008).
5
Housley, Crusading and Warfare; Hans Eberhard Mayer, The Crusades, trans. John
Gillingham, 2nd ed. (Oxford, 1988); Jean Flori, La guerre sainte—la formation de l’idée
de croisade dans l’Occident chrétien (Paris, 2001). See also Christopher Tyerman,“The
Holy Land and the Crusades of the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries,” in Crusade
and Settlement: Papers Read at the First Conference of the Society for the Study of
Crusades and the Latin East and Presented to R. C. Smail, ed. Peter Edbury (Cardiff,
UK, 1985), pp. 105–12.
6
For instance: Christopher Tyerman, God’s War: A New History of the Crusades
(Cambridge, MA, 2006);William J. Purkis, Crusading Spirituality in the Holy Land and
Iberia, c. 1095–1187 (Woodbridge, UK, 2008).
3

BY M. CECILIA GAPOSCHKIN

3

be known as the indulgence. People “took the cross” to the Holy Land,
certainly, but also to southern France, the Baltics, and Spain. The language that developed around 1200 to refer to crusaders—croisé,
kreuzfaher, crucesignatus—was used for all such varieties of crusaders, not just Jerusalem crusaders.7 But Jerusalem—because it was
the first, because it was where Christ had lived and died, because it
was the center of the Earth—retained a special character, a goal apart.
This article examines rituals of departure for pilgrimage and crusade to see what the liturgical material has to tell us about the place
of Jerusalem in the developing conceptualization of crusade, both in
terms of the strict directives given in the manuscripts about the function of the rite as well as the role that Jerusalem played within the
poetic and rhetorical imagination of the texts themselves. What did
the cross—and thus the cross blessing of the departure rite—signify,
and where did Jerusalem fit in its symbolic matrix of ritual meaning?
The article begins with a review of the origins of the pilgrimageturned-crusading blessings to establish the ritual, textual, and symbolic contexts for these crusader rituals; it then turns to the texts to
reveal the increasing focus on Jerusalem.
Crusaders often departed on their journey by undergoing a ritual
in which the insignia of their status as pilgrim and crusader was
blessed and thus sanctified by the bishop (or abbot or priest) and
handed over to the crusader from the altar. In general, the rite of
departure grew out of pilgrimage rituals (the blessing of the scrip and
staff) that stemmed from the early blessings of safe journey for
monks or the votive Mass for travelers found in early sacramentaries.8
7
This seems to be the case in particular after the pontificate of Innocent III. Michael
Markowski,“Crucesignatus: Its Origins and Early Usage,” Journal of Medieval History,
10 (1984), 157–65, especially 163–65; Christopher Tyerman, The Invention of the
Crusades (Toronto, 1998).
8
For scholarship on the rite for scrip and staff for pilgrimage: Charles du Fresne du
Cange, Histoire de S. Louys IX, dv nom Roy de France, ecrite par Iean sire de Ioinville,
Senéchal de Champagne (Paris, 1824), Dissertation XVI: 234–38,“De l’escarcelle et dv
bovrdon des pélerins de la Terre Sainte”; Luis Vázquez de Parga, José M. Lacarra, and Juan
Uría Ríu, Las peregrinaciones a Santiago de Compostela, 3 vols. (Madrid, 1948–49);
Cyrille Vogel,“Le pèlerinage pénitential,” in Pellegrinaggi e culto dei Santi in Europa
fino alla 1A Crociata (Todi, 1963), pp. 86–96; Francis Garrisson,“A propos des pèlerins
et de leur condition juridique,” in Études d’histoire du droit canonique dediées à
Gabriel Le Bras (Paris, 1965), pp. 1165–89; Henri Gilles,“Lex Peregrinorum,” Cahiers de
Fanjeaux: Le Pèlerinage, 15 (1980),161–89; Robert Plötz,“‘Benedictio perarum et baculorum’ und ‘coronatio peregrinorum; Beiträge zu der Ikonographie des Hl. Jacobus im

4

THE PLACE OF JERUSALEM IN WESTERN CRUSADING RITES OF DEPARTURE

The rites are found in pontificals—that is, service books for bishops—
and occasionally also in rituals, sacramentaries, and missals, which
suggest that bishops were not the only churchmen to perform these
ceremonies (see appendix A).The rite of blessing the scrip and staff
as the signum peregrinationis was in place by the Second Crusade
and standard (at least for kings) by the Third Crusade.9 The ritual
could be more or less elaborate depending on the circumstance and
the local liturgy, but broadly speaking the ritual evolved over the
twelfth and thirteenth centuries to accommodate crusaders, usually
by adding a cross blessing to the scrip-and-staff rite on which the pilgrimage ordo was built.10 The departure rite (often described inaccurately as the rite for taking the cross11) was separate from the moment
when a crusader “took the cross”—that is, made the vow to go on
deutschen Sparachgebiet,” in Volkskultur und Heimat. Festschrift für Josef Dünninger
zum 80 Geburtstag (Würzburg, 1986), pp. 339–76, here pp. 349–50.
9
Odo of Deuil, De Profectione Ludovici VII in Orientem; The Journey of Louis VII
to the East, trans.Virginia Gingerick Berry (New York, 1948), pp. 16–17. Rigord, Œuvres
de Rigord et de Guillaume le Breton, historiens de Philippe-Auguste, publiées pour
la Société de l’histoire de France par H. François Delaborde, 2 vols. (Paris, 1882–85),
1:98–99. For Richard the Lionheart (June 1190), see Roger of Howden, The Annals of
Roger of Hoveden: Comprising the History of England and of Other Countries of
Europe, 2 vols. (London, 1853), 2:141, who says Richard was in Tours; see also Gesta
regis Henrici Secundi Benedicti abbatis: The Chronicle of the Reigns of Henry II. and
Richard I. A.D. 1169–1192: Known Commonly under the Name of Benedict of
Peterborough, ed.William Stubbs, 2 vols. (London, 1867), 2:11, which states Richard was
in York. For Frederick Barbarossa (April 15, 1189, Hagenau), see Gislebertus of Mons,
Gisleberti Chronicon Hanoniense, ed. Willhelm Arndt, MGH SS 21 (1869), p. 566 [=
Monumenta Germaniae historica inde ab a. C. 500 usque ad a. 1500, Scriptores, 32
vols. (Hannover, 1826–1934)].
10
For previous discussions of the departure rites, see James A. Brundage,“‘Cruce signari’: The Rite for Taking the Cross in England,” Traditio, 22 (1966), 289–310; Kenneth
Pennington,“The Rite for Taking the Cross in the Twelfth Century,” Traditio, 30 (1974),
429–35; Lucy Pick,“Signaculum Caritatis et Fortitudinis: Blessing the Crusader’s Cross
in France,” Revue bénédictine, 105 (1995), 381–416; Tyerman, The Invention of the
Crusades, pp. 22–23, 78–82;William Chester Jordan,“The Rituals of War: Departure for
Crusade in Thirteenth-Century France,” in The Book of Kings:Art, War, and the Morgan
Library’s Medieval Picture Book, ed.William Noel and Daniel H.Weiss (London, 2002),
pp. 98–105; William Chester Jordan, Crusader Prologues: Preparing for War in the
Gothic Age—A Lecture Presented at the Moreau Center for the Arts, Saint Mary’s
College, Notre Dame, Indiana, November 3, 2009 (Notre Dame, 2009);Anne Lester,“A
Shared Imitation: Cistercian Convents and Crusader Families in Thirteenth-Century
Champagne,” Journal of Medieval History, 35 (2009), 365–67; M. Cecilia Gaposchkin,
“From Pilgrimage to Crusade:The Liturgy of Departure,” Speculum, 88 (2013), in press.
11
This is seen, for example, in the titles of two articles on the subject: Brundage,
“‘Cruce signari’:The Rite for Taking the Cross in England,” pp. 289–310; and Pennington,
“The Rite for Taking the Cross,” pp. 429–35.

BY M. CECILIA GAPOSCHKIN

5

Crusade, which could happen months or even years prior to actual
departure.
Overall, the rites underscore the extent to which Jerusalem was
central to the concept of crusade and became even more so as the
activity of crusading became more diffuse. Local traditions always
constituted exceptions, and these testify to the variety of ways in
which crusading cultures could instantiate the many possibilities of
crusade ideals. But broadly speaking, the crusader’s rite of departure
involving cross, scrip, and staff developed over the course of two centuries to focus on the geographical goal of Jerusalem and to valorize
the holy city in crusader ideology and spirituality.
Pre-1095 Origins and Pilgrimage to Rome
As Hans Mayer has insisted, the practice, ideology, and spirituality
of pilgrimage was at the heart of the advent and meaning of early crusading.12 Pilgrimage to Jerusalem had a long tradition, even during
Muslim control of the Levant, and seems only to have become more
vigorous in the century preceding Clermont.13 Jerusalem pilgrimage
was at the heart of the early conceptualization of crusade. Crusaders
were routinely referred to as peregrini, and it seems that even in the
earliest years departing crusaders submitted to pilgrimage rites
involving a blessing of scrip and staff that had emerged in Europe
over the course of the eleventh century.14
Yet, surprisingly, the ritual tradition for pilgrimage that became so
central to crusade did not originally prioritize Jerusalem, but rather
12
Mayer, The Crusades. Many have followed in this estimation. For a local case study,
see Marcus Bull, Knightly Piety and the Lay Response to the First Crusade: The
Limousin and Gascony, c. 970–c. 1130 (Oxford, 1993). One dissent, arguing that Urban
did not pitch the First Crusade as a pilgrimage, is Janus Møller Jensen,“Peregrinatio sive
expeditio: Why the First Crusade Was Not a Pilgrimage,” Al-Māsaq: Islam and the
Medieval Mediterranean, 15 (2003), 119–37.
13
Bernard Hamilton,“The Impact of Crusader Jerusalem on Western Christendom,”
The Catholic Historical Review, 80 (1994), 695–713.
14
The narrative and charter evidence has been reviewed by Giles Constable,
Crusaders and Crusading in the Twelfth Century (Burlington,VT, 2008), p. 99.A charter of 1101 has a knight receiving a ring and a cross from his bishop.Another knight of
1120 received the cross “as a sign of pilgrimage, as requires the custom of this kind of
pilgrim.” Ekkehaud of Aura speaks of crusaders departing in a “new rite” (novo ritu) in
which their swords, scrips, and staves were blessed; see MGH SS 6:214 [=Monumenta
Germanicae historica inde ab a. C. 500 usque ad a. 1500, Scriptores, 32 vols.
(Hannover, 1826–1934), 6:214]

6

THE PLACE OF JERUSALEM IN WESTERN CRUSADING RITES OF DEPARTURE

grew out of traditions that assumed Rome as destination. A series of
manuscripts survive from the late-tenth century (from Spain) and
eleventh century (from France, Germany, and England) that include
rites of scrip and staff for pilgrims seeking the suffrages of the saints.
Some early ones, reflecting their expansion from the broader “travel
blessings,” were labeled “For Those Going on a Journey” and others
simply “Blessing for Scrip and Staff.”15 The majority indicated in either
their rubrics or their texts that the goal was the idiomatic limina
apostolorum or limina beatorum Petri et Pauli—the threshold of
the apostles, that is, Rome. So, for instance, an eleventh-century addition to the famous Romano-Germanic Pontifical [RGP] was titled
“Benediction upon the Scrip and Staves and upon Those who with
These Seek the Threshold and the Prayers of the Holy Apostles,”16 and
the prayers themselves assumed the limina apostolorum and the
limina beatorum Petri et Pauli.17 The assumption was that Roman
pilgrimage (whose heyday was also the eleventh century) was associated more often than Jerusalem with the penitential and sin-forgiving
aspects of pilgrimage and the suffrages of the saints.18 Indeed, the earliest (that is, precrusade) remits for sins (later known as indulgences)
generally invoked the authority of Peter, Paul, and perhaps Mary—pre-

15
For example, Alejandro Olivar, El Sacramentario de Vich, [Monumenta Hispaniae
Sacra, Serie liturgica, 4] (Barcelona, 1953); J. R. Barriga Planas, El sacramentari, ritual i
pontifical de Roda: cod. 16 de l’arxiu de la catedral de Lleida, c. 1000 (Barcelona,
1975), pp. 541–44; Reims, Bibliothèque municipale, MS. 341, fols. 2v–3r; Milan,
Ambrosiana A92, fols. 115r–116v; Madrid, Biblioteca Nationale 678, fols. 67r–68v;
Vatican, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Lat. 6748, fols. 51r–54r.
16
Cyrille Vogel and Reinhard Elze, eds., Le Pontifical romano-germanique du dixième siècle, 2 vols., [Studi e testi, 226–227], (Vatican City, 1963). Hereafter abbreviated
as RGP.“T” ms (Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Pal. 701),“Benediccio super
capsellas et fustes et super eos qui cum his limina ac suffragia sanctorum apostolorum
petituri sunt” appears twice (same rubric). On the RGP, see Cyrille Vogel, Medieval
Liturgy: An Introduction to the Sources, trans. William G. Storey, Niels Krogh
Rasmussen, and John K. Brooks-Leonard, [NPM Studies in Church Music and Liturgy],
(Washington, DC, 1986), pp. 230–39; Eric Palazzo, A History of Liturgical Books from
the Beginning to the Thirteenth Century (Collegeville, MN, 1998), pp. 201–07.
17
Vienna ÖNB Pal. 701 (Vogel and Elze, eds., RGP); Adolph Franz, Die kirchlichen
Benediktionen im Mittelalter, 2 vols. (1909; repr. Bonn, 2006), 2:275, representing one
eleventh-century manuscript (Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Clm. 6427) and several from the twelfth; Gebhard Hürlimann, Das Rheinauer Rituale (Zürich Rh 114,
Anfang 12. Jh.), [Spicilegium Friburgense, 5] (Freiburg, 1959), pp. 142–43.
18
Debra Birch, Pilgrimage to Rome in the Middle Ages: Continuity and Change
(Woodbridge, UK, 1998). For Carolingian roots to Roman pilgrimage (and the role of
devotion to relics in its development), see Patrick J. Geary, Furta Sacra: Thefts of Relics
in the Central Middle Ages (Princeton, 1978), especially pp. 11–12, 53–54, 82–86.

BY M. CECILIA GAPOSCHKIN

7

cisely those called upon in the German and English versions of the
eleventh-century rites.19 The ubiquity of the scrip and staff as the
core elements of the rite is obscure but consistent and may be related
to the practice of the newly appointed bishop’s journey to Rome. It
was certainly (and invertedly) related to Christ’s injunction to the
apostles to “take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no
scrip, no money in their belts” (Mark 6:8; cf. Luke 9:3), underscoring
an apostolic model for pilgrimage.20 But quite early the rite sought to
accommodate other holy destinations in both rubrics and texts. The
rubric for the text noted above was expanded in some manuscripts to
read “For Those Going to the Limits of the Apostles or to Other Places
for the Purpose of Praying.”21 Another core text took different forms
but had common origins and can be found in German, French, and
Spanish texts dated prior to the crusades. It asked (twice) that the pilgrim might “arrive at the threshold of the blessed apostles Peter and
Paul or other saints to whom [he] might desire to go.”22 Notably, the
Ordo for Scrip and Staff did not enter the Roman (and thus, papal)
liturgy until the second half of the thirteenth century—presumably
because one did not need a blessing to reach Rome if one was already
in Rome23—and it did so only later, in the company of a cross blessing that assumed Jerusalem crusade.24
Taking Up the Cross and Going to Jerusalem
The point to be emphasized is that none of these texts or traditions
was initially composed with Jerusalem as the explicit goal. This

19
Robert W. Shaffern, The Penitent’s Treasury: Indulgences in Latin Christendom
1175–1375 (Scranton, 2007), p. 45. For examples, see Vienna ÖNB Pal. 701 (Vogel and
Elze, eds., RGP); Cambridge, Corpus Christi College 163 (p. 288) and 146 (p. 4); (the
manuscript is paginated).
20
Mark 6:8:“tollerent in via nisi virgam tantum non peram non panem neque in zona
aes”; Luke 9:3: “nihil tuleritis in via neque virgam neque peram neque panem neque
pecuniam neque duas tunicas habeatis.”
21
Franz, Die kirchlichen Benediktionen, 2:275: “Pro fratribus in viam, id est ad
limina apostolorum vel lias causa orandi dirigendis.” Citing Munich Clm 6427 (11c),
22040 (12c), and 9563 (12c).
22
Olivar, ed., El Sacramentario de Vich, p. 216; Planas, El sacramentari, ritual i pontifical de Roda, p. 543:“pervenire merearis ad limina apostolorum petri et pauli vel ad
aliorum sanctorum quo pergere cupis.”
23
A point made by Franz, Die kirchlichen Benediktionen, 2:288.
24
M. Cecilia Gaposchkin,“The Origins and Development of the Pilgrimage and Cross
Blessings in the Roman Pontificals of the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries (RP12 and
RP13),” Mediaeval Studies, 73 (2011), 261–86.

8

THE PLACE OF JERUSALEM IN WESTERN CRUSADING RITES OF DEPARTURE

changed as the rites were adapted for this new form of pilgrimage.
Initially, during the inchoate period of the First Crusade, a crusader
may have set off in any number of ways since there was no limit to
the variety of different rituals a priest or bishop could have confected
from the available blessings in his sacramentary or pontifical.
Sacramentaries from the Gelasian or Gregorian tradition, and pontificals, particularly those having grown out of the traditions of the RGP,
included all sorts of appropriate blessings, including benedictions for
scrip and staff, but also for arms, war, crosses, and tribulations (along
with blessings for patens, a new well, exorcism, and so forth).25 We
assume that many crusaders would have also, perhaps separately, had
their weapons blessed.26 Ekkehard of Aura, a German abbot who went
to Jerusalem in 1101, talked about crusaders leaving in a “new rite”
[novo ritu] where their swords were blessed along with their scrips
and staves.27 Indeed, several manuscripts brought together travel
blessing, or scrip-and-staff blessings, with various prayers for the rites
of war.28
But from the start the quintessential symbol for crusading had
been the cross. In 1095, Urban II enjoined crusaders to sew a cross on
their outer garments, and the cross quickly—naturally—became the
outward signum of the crusader, the insignia added to the scrip and
staff that denoted this new type of Jerusalem pilgrimage. And so it
made plenty of sense to simply bless the crusader’s cross, along with
the scrip and staff, as the insignia of this particular type of pilgrimage.
The chief association of the cross rite, then, when paired with scrip
and staff, was with pilgrimage, not with fighting. In time, newly made
pontificals (and later, missals) began to reflect this expanded ritual,
copying in sequence the “benedictio crucis,”“benedictio perae,” and
“benedictio baculi,” sometimes in conjunction with older blessings for
travelers known from sacramentaries. In France cross blessings were
added to scrip-and-staff blessings in manuscripts by the early-thir25

For sacramentaries, see, for example, Antoine Dumas, Liber Sacramentorum
Gellonensis, 2 vols., [Corpus Christianorum. Series Latina, 159–159A], (Turnhout, 1981),
pp. 298, 299, 370, 430, 431, 438. For the RGP: Vogel and Elze, eds., RGP, pp. 55–61, 74,
78–80, 88, 94–105, 362.
26
Vogel,“Le pèlerinage pénitential,” p. 90; Jordan, Crusader Prologues, pp. 12–15.
27
See Constable, Crusaders and Crusading; MGH SS 6:214.
28
For example, Bamberg, Staatliche Bibliothek, Lit. 58, fol. 64r–v; Bamberg, Staatliche
Bibliothek, Lit 60, fols. 108v–109v; Walter Von Arx, Das Klosterrituale Von Biburg
(Budapest, Cod. lat. m. ae. Nr. 330, 12 Jh.), [Spicilegium Friburgense, 14], (Freiburg,
1970), pp. 260–63. See Gaposchkin,“From Pilgrimage to Crusade.”

BY M. CECILIA GAPOSCHKIN

9

FIGURE 1. A bishop blessing a pilgrim’s cross. Besançon BM 138, fol. 157v,
from the Ordo for the Benedictio Crucis. Reproduced by permission of CNRSIRHT, Bibliothèque municipal de Besançon.

teenth century (see figure 1).29 In England, a new blessing titled
“Benedictio crucis peregrinorum” (the Blessing of the Pilgrim’s
Cross) was added in a later hand to a pontifical emanating from
around Canterbury.30 In Norman Sicily a new rite found in pontificals
from Messina and Palermo that was in place before the Third Crusade
accreted to the old Mass for travelers the blessing for a new liturgical
cross from the RGP (also titled the “Benedictio crucis peregrinorum”).31 In most of the compositions, the cross blessing added to the
29

Pick,“Signaculum Caritatis,” pp. 381–416.
Oxford, Magdalene College 226. H.A.Wilson, The Pontifical of Magdalen College:
With an Appendix of Extracts from Other English Mss. of the Twelfth Century (1910),
p. 207. See also Brundage,“Cruce signari,” pp. 303–07.
31
The rites are found in three “Beneventan” pontificals from southern Italy: Milan,
Ambrosiana A92, fols. 115r–116v; Madrid, Biblioteca Nationale 678, fols. 67r–68v; and
Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Lat. 6748, fols. 51r–54r. For date, see Richard
Kay, Pontificalia: A Repertory of Latin Manuscript Pontificals and Benedictionals
(Lawrence, KS, 2007), p. 93, no. 473. A more developed form of the same rite is found
in Rome, Biblioteca Casanatense 614; see Derek A. Rivard,“Pro Iter Agentibus:The Ritual
Blessings of Pilgrims and Their Insignia in a Pontifical of Southern Italy,” Journal of
Medieval History, 27 (2001), 365–98. Richard Gyug, “From Beneventan to Gothic:
30

10

THE PLACE OF JERUSALEM IN WESTERN CRUSADING RITES OF DEPARTURE

scrip-and-staff rite was usually a pre-existing blessing for a liturgical
cross whose history went back to the seventh and eighth-century
development of the rite for the Holy Cross, which emphasized the
salvific, eschatological, transcendental, and victorious powers of the
cross,32 although a number of new cross blessings (discussed below)
were composed at this stage that were clearly responding to this new
kind of pilgrimage.
The Symbol of the Cross and the Idea of Jerusalem
The question is what exactly did the signum crucis specify in this
context? Did it signify Jerusalem pilgrimage specifically, or could it be
used by other pilgrims? Or, contrariwise, did it assume belligerent pilgrims (i.e., crusaders) or also “merely” devotional pilgrims? The answer
for the twelfth and first part of the thirteenth century is certainly fluid,
local, and variable, since the kind of effective standardization that
would occur at the end of the thirteenth century with the papacy’s
adoption of a cross-scrip-staff rite and the spread of its influence was
in the future. Even then, there was a huge amount of variety.This was
unavoidable given the enormous range and powerful association of
the symbol of the cross.33 But it seems that in the wake of the first crusade, after the language of the cross had been established for this new
kind of pilgrimage, the cross was adopted—here and there—both by
“merely” devotional pilgrims and by crusaders to places other than
Jerusalem. Christopher Tyerman has brought attention to Godfrey of
Finchale, who “took the cross” as part of his devotional pilgrimage to
Jerusalem.34 Crusade hosts generally consisted of fighters proper as
well as large numbers of “hangers-ons,” but all were considered pil-

Continuity and Change in Southern Italian Liturgical Ceremonies,” in Classica et
Beneventana: Essays Presented to Virginia Brown on the Occasion of Her 65th Birthday, ed. Frank Thomas Coulson and Anna Grotans (Turnhout, 2008), pp. 293–310.
32
For the themes in earlier cross texts, see Louis van Tongeren, Exaltation of the
Cross: Toward the Origins of the Feast of the Cross and the Meaning of the Cross in
Early Medieval Liturgy, [Liturgia Condenda, 11], (Leuven, 2000). Pick has made the
point that these texts, when adopted for the crusades, emphasized the protective
powers of the cross; see “Signaculum Caritatis,” pp. 398–400.
33
Tyerman, The Invention of the Crusades, pp. 76–83;Tyerman, God’s War: A New
History of the Crusades, pp. 70–73; Giles Constable, “The Cross of the Crusaders,” in
Crusaders and Crusading the Twelfth Century (Farnham, UK, 2008), pp. 45–91;
Norman Housley, Fighting for the Cross: Crusading to the Holy Land (New Haven,
2008), pp. 54–80.
34
Tyerman, The Invention of the Crusades, pp. 21–22.

BY M. CECILIA GAPOSCHKIN

11

grims, and quite possibly all underwent the rite together. We know that
both priests and monks took the cross, even though this was discouraged.35 A rite for taking the cross to Jerusalem survives from a monastic sacramentary (perhaps from St. Michel de Cuxa) that clearly
assumed a monk; that same sacramentary included an oration for those
taking the cross to Spain.36 Contrariwise, the cross might have been
worn for non-Jerusalem crusaders. An extraordinary rite from
Coventry c. 1200 added two cross prayers (one adapted from the RGP,
one newly composed) to the scrip-and-staff rite Ad benedicendum
peregrinos known elsewhere in England; the rubric for the cross blessings included this extraordinary explanatory rubric: “Blessing for the
cross to be given to those who are going to the Holy Land or those
going to other lands for the purpose of destroying the enemies of the
cross.”37 The new prayer stressed Christ’s passion on the cross and the
crusader’s remission of sin, but not Jerusalem, making it appropriate
for any crusade. This was one solution, as crusaders who were
described as peregrini and wore the cross yet were on a crusade into
the Baltic states or against the Cathars, for example, did not really fulfill the paradigm of pilgrimage. But this rubric is also the only piece of
direct evidence of a practice of receiving the cross blessing for a crusade destination other than Jerusalem.
These examples represent local solutions from this period of fluid
experimentation, dependent on available liturgical texts and local
contexts. The larger trend, however, points to Jerusalem as the goal
and a sharpening in this ritual context of the meaning of the cross
toward Jerusalem crusade. Although the twelfth century saw considerable experimentation, by the end of the century and certainly in the
thirteenth, we see increasingly that the crusade is linked to the cross
as the symbol and to Jerusalem as the destination.This is in some contradistinction to the expansion of crusading to fronts as far flung from
Jerusalem as the Baltic states, southern France, and Spain, to which
35
Giles Constable,“Opposition to Pilgrimage in the Middle Ages,” Studia Gratiana,
29 (1947), 123–45; Sylvia Schein, Gateway to the Heavenly City: Crusader Jerusalem
and the Catholic West (1099–1187) (Burlington,VT, 2005), pp. 133–40.
36
Avignon, Bibliothèque Municipale 178, fol. 154v (“Oratio ad dandam crucem ante
altare, his qui cupiunt pergere ad Ispaniam”—a single line taken from the RGP); 115r
(ad dandam his qui vadunt in Iherusalem). For partial transcription, see Olivar, ed., El
Sacramentario de Vich, p. CVIII.
37
Cambridge, University Library, Ff. 6.9, fols. 85r–86r:“Benedictio crucis dande ituris
in sanctam terram vel ituris in aliam terram ad expugnandum inimicos crucis.”
Brundage,“Cruce signari,” pp. 306–07.

12

THE PLACE OF JERUSALEM IN WESTERN CRUSADING RITES OF DEPARTURE

crusaders also wore the cross. As pontificals and sacramentaries
adapted in response to these new practices, some rubrics began to
explicitly label Jerusalem as the intended goal.This started earliest in
southern France, Italy, and Sicily.The rite for Norman Sicily that was in
place by c. 1167 was built upon the old Mass for travelers (Missa pro
iter agentibus), to which was added a blessing for the “cross of pilgrims,” and the text referred to those heading toward the “Sepulcher
of our Lord Jesus Christ.”38 Two Italian pontificals of the twelfth century titled their crusading rites “The Ordo for Taking up the Sign of the
Holy Cross for Those Going to Jerusalem” and “The Office for Those
who Are Going to Jerusalem.”39 The sacramentary from southern
France titled its rite “For Giving the Cross to Those who Go to
Jerusalem.” The text here adapted the old blessing for the liturgical
cross taken from old Gelasian sacramentary, changing “this your cross
[hanc crucem tuum]” to “the sign of this holy cross worn by those
travelling iherosolimitani to Jerusalem.”40 A pontifical from Caromb
in southern France, included the “Ordo for Giving the Cross as the
Sign of Pilgrimage or for Visiting the Holy Sepulcher of the Lord,”
which was followed by the “Prayer upon Those Taking up the Cross.”41
Traditional pilgrimage prayers were updated to include the sepulchrum domini as well as the limina apostolorum in several German
and Austrian manuscripts of the twelfth century, and Italian and
French rites of the thirteenth century.42 A ritual from the Benedictine
38

Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana A92, fols. 115r–116v.
Graz, Universitätsbibliothek 186, fols. 81r–84r: “Ordo ad suscipienda signacula
sancte crucis euntibus iheruslaem”; Graz, Universitätsbibliothek 239, fols. 143v–146v:
“Officium pro illis qui vadunt Ierusalem”; Pennington,“The Rite for Taking the Cross,”
pp. 429–35.
40
Avignon, Bibliothèque Municipale 178, fol. 155, rubric:“Ad dandam crucem his qui
vadunt in Ieruslaem”; text: “Benedic domine hoc signum sancte crucis habitum in
Ierusalem, iherosolimitani itineris.” For the source in the Gelasian tradition, see Dumas,
Liber Sacramentorum Gellonensis, p. 370, rubric 2447; O. S. B. Heiming, ed., Liber
Sacramentorum Augustodunensis, [Corpus Christianorum Series Latina, 49B],
(Turnhout, 1984), p. 174, rubric 1485; Patrick Saint-Roch, ed., Liber Sacramentorum
Engolismensis: manuscrits B.N. Lat 816, Le sacramentaire gélasien d’Angoulême
(Turnhout, 1987), pp. 310–11, rubric 2050. A version of this also is found in the RGP,
Benedictio Crucis, 1:157 (XL.97).
41
Avignon, BM 143, fols. 172r–175r:“Ad sportas et baculos peregrinorum benedictio/
benedictio panis/Oratio ad cruces benedicendas/Ordo cum datur crux in signum peregrinationis vel visitationis sancti sepulcri domini/Oratio super crucem accipientes.”
42
Adolph Franz, Das rituale von St. Florian aus dem zwölften jahrhundert, [Saint
Florien, XI 467], (Freiburg, 1904); Franz, Die kirchlichen Benediktionen, 2:273;Von Arx,
Das Klosterrituale Von Biburg, p. 261; Rivard,“Pro Iter Agentibus,” p. 391.Avignon, BM
143, fols. 172r–174r.
39

BY M. CECILIA GAPOSCHKIN

13

monastery of St. Cugat in Spain incorporated a standard prayer for
handing over the scrip that dated from the eleventh century, substituting the phrase “to the limits of the Holy Sepulcher, or Saint James,
or Saint Hilary [of Poitiers], or any other saint that you might desire to
go visit” for “the limits of the apostles” (ad limina apostolorum).The
rite was titled “Benediction of the Cross of Those Who Desire to Travel
to the Holy Land.”43
Jerusalem in the Devotional Imagination
As the liturgy developed in response to the practice of Jerusalem
pilgrimage, Jerusalem was increasingly incorporated into the poetic
and devotional imagination of the rites. Deep traditions of liturgical
poetry had, of course, long evoked Jerusalem in its transcendental
guise—to call to mind the future, Heavenly Jerusalem.44 By its very
meaning Jerusalem could always—would always—evoke the eschatological future.A prayer for “those who set out to travel abroad,” which
included the blessings of script and staff found in Spanish sacramentaries from c. 1000, makes this clear; it indicated specifically that the
goal was not so much the earthly city, but the future, celestial, and
eternal Jerusalem.45 Pre-existing pilgrimage traditions had often
evoked Jerusalem through metaphor and allusion to Old Testament
travel and travelers. The Archangel Raphael—who had accompanied
Tobias on his long journey to Medea—was, in travel and pilgrimage
rites, called upon to guide the traveler and keep him safe as he had
done for Tobias.46 Even more resonant of pilgrimage and Jerusalem
43

Barcelona, Archives of the Crown of Aragon, San Cugat 73, fols. 23v–24r:
“Benedictio crucis illi qui volunt pergere ad Terram Sanctam.”
44
On liturgical evocations of Jerusalem, see Paul F. Bradshaw, “The Influence of
Jerusalem on Christian Liturgy,” in Jerusalem: Its Sanctity and Centrality to Judaism,
Christianity, and Islam, ed. Lee I. Levine (New York, 1999), pp. 251–59, here p. 251. See
also Joshua Prawer, “Jerusalem in the Christian and Jewish Perspectives of the Early
Middle Ages,” Settimane di Studio del Centro Italiano di Studi Sll’Alto Medioevo, 26
(1980), 739–95; Francis Peters, Jerusalem: The Holy City in the Eyes of Chroniclers,
Visitors, Pilgrims, and Prophets from the Days of Abraham to the Beginnings of
Modern Times (Princeton, 1985); Schein, Gateway.
45
Lerida,Arxiu de la Catedral 16 (olim 38), fol 138v, from the “Ordo de his qui peregre proficiscuntur.” Planas, El sacramentari, ritual i pontifical de Roda, p. 542. The
prayer also is found in the Vich Sacramentary. See Olivar, ed., El Sacramentario de Vich,
pp. 215–16.
46
The reference to Raphael was widespread, rooted in the travel prayers from the
Gelasian tradition. Sometimes the reference is only to Tobias and “the angel.” Citing here
only printed sources: Dumas, Liber Sacramentorum Gellonensis, p. 439, no. 2794;
Heiming, ed., Liber Sacramentorum Augustodunensis, p. 223, no. 1810; Planas, El

14

THE PLACE OF JERUSALEM IN WESTERN CRUSADING RITES OF DEPARTURE

was the figure of Abraham, the paradigmatic peregrinus, the patriarch
to whom God had promised the Holy Land—the Promised Land—and
thus, Jerusalem, and who was routinely evoked in the early pilgrimage
rites.47 In Spain the Vich sacramentary of 1038 enjoined God to watch
over “your male and female servants” just as [he] watched over
Abraham, [his] son, led from Ur of the Chaldeans, through all the paths
of pilgrimage.”48 The core prayer that entered the tradition of the
Romano Germanic Pontifical (RGP) cited God’s promise to Abraham
that he travel to the Promised Land, but did so very much in the context of Roman pilgrimage.The text beseeched God (who had ordered
Abraham, his son,“so that he might go from the land of his birth and
arrive at the Promised Land, which [God] had promised to him”) to
watch over the pilgrims traveling to worship him at the threshold of
blessed Peter and Paul, keep them safe from all sins, and protect them
from perturbation.49 In these, the emphasis was more on Abraham as
pilgrim than on the Holy Land as destination. In fact, the RGP, in comparing the pilgrim to Abraham, also compared Rome to the Promised
Land, explicitly elevating Rome to a level with Jerusalem.
This conception shifted in the crusade period. Jerusalem took on
new meanings—often more concrete ones echoing larger themes of
crusading spirituality—as these rites evolved in the context of crusade: not only the heavenly Jerusalem of transcendental metaphor but
also the historical Jerusalem of the promise to Abraham and the geographical Jerusalem of the Lord’s tomb. As these texts were incorporated into crusading rites and were used in the context of the goal of
Jerusalem, the timbre of the Old Testament imagery surely changed;

sacramentari, ritual i pontifical de Roda, pp. 544, 547; Olivar, ed., El Sacramentario
de Vich, p. 217; Reginald Maxwell Woolley, ed., The Canterbury Benedictional (British
Museum, Harl, ms. 2892) (London, 1917; repr. Woodbridge, UK, 1995), p. 126; Franz,
Die kirchlichen Benediktionen, p. 277;Vogel and Elze, eds., RGP, p. 362.
47
Franz, Die kirchlichen Benediktionen, p. 274; Olivar, ed., El Sacramentario de
Vich, 215; Vogel and Elze, eds., RGP, CCXII, 361; Planas, El sacramentari, ritual i pontifical de Roda, p. 541.
48
Olivar, ed., El Sacramentario de Vich, p. 215:“Deus qui Abraham puerum tuum de
Hur Caldeorum eductum per omnes sue peregrinationis vias custodisti . . .”
49
Vogel and Elze, eds., RGP, p. 362, no. CCXII:“qui Abrahae puero tuo, ut iret de terra
nativitatis suae et veniret in terram reporimssionis, quam ei daturus promiseras, precepisti, necnon et populum Israhelicticum in deserto te adorandum multi prodigiis
venire fecisit, hos, quesumus, ad beatorum Petri et Pauli liminina te adorare pergentes
a periculis omnibus eruas, et a peccatorum nexibus solvas, et tu, qui es vera via in te
fidentibus, eorum iter bene dispone, ut, inter omnes huius seculi perturbationes, tuo
protegantur auxilio.”

BY M. CECILIA GAPOSCHKIN

15

the reference to the Promised Land became more resonant and less
metaphorical, and God’s promise of the terra repromissionis to
Abraham was newly evocative of the new context. As crusader texts
were expanded and new texts were written for the cross in the
twelfth and thirteenth centuries, Abraham as pilgrim and Jerusalem as
goal became more pronounced. So a blessing for the “signaculi
crucis” used in Paris and Cambrai in the early-thirteenth century compared the sanctification of the crusader’s cross with God’s sanctification of “Abraham our patriarch, with the sign of just faith.”50 The
Norman-Sicilian rite began with a reading from Genesis 12:1–4, in
which God famously commanded Abraham to “go forth out of the
country and from thy kindred and come into the land which I shall
show you” and promised him: “I will make you a great nation, and I
will bless thee, and magnify your name, and you shall be blessed.”51
This core, critical passage—God’s promise of the “Promised Land”—
to the line of Abraham was doubly powerful within the crusading context, in which the heirs of Abraham, the modern-day Israelites, sought
precisely to reclaim that Promised Land.52
The idea of Abraham’s possessing the Promised Land was at the
heart of a new, powerful cross blessing composed in the last quarter
of the twelfth century for the liturgy at Ely. Brundage, who published
these texts, identified this as the earliest adoption of the cross-rite in
England.53 The cross text followed the traditional rite for scrip and
staff, associating the pilgrim with Abraham and linking possession of
the Holy Land with salvation.
Take up the yoke of Christ [iugum Christi], the burden of which is light
[leve onus] to the faithful, with the sign [signo] of the holy cross having
been ensigned [insignus], so that, going forth with the right side signed,
50
Cambrai, Bibliothèque Municipale 223, fols. 146r–147r; Paris, Bibliothèque de
l’Arsenal 332, fols. 24v–25v; Pick,“Signaculum Caritatis,” pp. 413–15.
51
On the Norman-Sicilian rite, see note 30.
52
On contemporary parallels between the Crusaders and the Old Testament, see
Paul Alphandéry, “Les citations bibliques chez les historiens de la première croisade,”
Revue de l’histoire des religions, 99 (1929), 139–57.
53
The two manuscripts in which these are found are Cambridge, Trinity Library
B.11.10, fols.74r–75v, 77v–78r; and Cambridge, University Library L1.2.10, fols.
100v–103v. The manuscripts contain identical scrip-and-staff rites. Brundage believed
the cross rites were found in B.11.10 and not Ll.2.10, but was mistaken. He missed the
identical cross prayer on Ll.2.10, fols. 77v–78r. Curiously and atypically, the cross text
does not appear in direct succession to the scrip-and-staff texts. See Brundage,“Cruce
signari,” p. 293, no. 13, and pp. 303–06 for edition.

16

THE PLACE OF JERUSALEM IN WESTERN CRUSADING RITES OF DEPARTURE

you, like Abraham,54 may, with the aid of our Lord Christ, merit to possess
[possidere] the land of the living [terram viventius], where the most
beloved haven of faithful souls is.55

The prayer directly references crusading goals.The crusader is “signed”
with the cross on his right that, according to narrative sources, is
where crusaders often wore their cross. The crusader hopes to be
worthy of possessing (possidere) the land of the living (terra viventium) and is compared to Abraham sent to possess Palestine.The terra
viventium was an Old Testament phrase designating the earthly world,
although medieval liturgical use of the phrase tended to allegorize it to
heaven.56 Here, the benediction, by evoking the portus animarum
(haven of souls), melded the temporal Jerusalem and the heavenly
Jerusalem, which was, of course, a devotional goal of serving Christ
through crusade. Over the course of the eleventh century, particularly
for Western pilgrims seeking to end their lives in Jerusalem, terrestrial
Jerusalem came increasingly to be seen as the gateway to the heavenly
Jerusalem.57 This prayer appropriated that notion of salvation to crusade: to possess the (temporal) land of the living, following Abraham,
so as to possess the heavenly reward.
Other newly composed benedictions centered squarely on
Jerusalem absorbed developing ideals of crusading in different ways.
A twelfth-century rite from southern Italy brought together traditional
prayers for the rite of scrip and staff known from the RGP and ninthcentury additions to the Gellone Sacramentary58 with newly composed texts centered on the cross, thus connecting Christ, his life, and
his geographical location in Jerusalem. After the richly chosen
54

Cf.Abraham marked by faith in Heb. 11:8; James 2:23.
Brundage,“Cruce signari,” p. 305:“Ad dandam crucem: Suscipe iugum christi quod
est fidelibus suis leve onus, signo sancte crucis insignante, quatinus fide abraham exeuntis dextera insignitus, terram viventium merearis possidere, ubi est fidelium animarum gratissimus portus, prestante domino nostro ihesu christo.”
56
Job 28:13; Ps. 26:13, 51:7, 141:6; Is. 38:11, 53:8; Jer. 11:19; Ezek. 26:20, 32:23–27,
32:32. On allegorization, see Albert Blaise, Le Vocabulaire latin des principaux the`mes
liturgiques (Turnhout,1966), p. 297, §167.
57
On the development of this strand of interpretation, see Schein, Gateway, pp.
114–30.
58
Pennington,“The Rite for Taking the Cross,” pp. 431–32. Graz, Universitätbibliothek
239, 143v–146v, perhaps from Bari); see manuscript description at http://www-classic.uni-graz.at/ubwww/sosa/katalog/. For earlier texts, cf. Dumas,“Item Orationis ad Iter
Agentibus,” Liber Sacramentorum Gellonensis, pp. 39–40; Heiming, ed.,“Item Oraciones
ad iter agentibus,” Liber Sacramentorum Augustodunensis, p. 24, no. CCCXIIII.
55

BY M. CECILIA GAPOSCHKIN

17

psalmody that resounded with such timely themes as “May He send
help from the sanctuary, and defend thee out of Sion” [Psalms 19:3,
itself a reference to Jerusalem], and “The enemy shall have no advantage over him; nor the son of iniquity have power to hurt him” [Psalms
88:23], the opening prayer speaks of the supplicant:
Who, because of the love of Your name rejects all impiety and secular
desires, and desires to hurriedly go to the place where our Lord God Jesus
Christ,Your son, Born of the Virgin, died and rose in the flesh. According
to the revelation of the prophet that said concerning Him:“We will adore
in the place where his feet stood” [Psalms 131:7], hear, kindly, his prayers
and clemently breathe life into his vows, and because human frailty is to
do no worthy fruit of penitence without you.59

The rest of the prayer—in which the supplicant asks God to protect
him on the journey—echoed the traditional pilgrimage theme on
which the rite was based, but the additions were pointed. Psalms
131:7—“We will adore in the place where his feet stood”—was,
because of its focus on Jerusalem, a standard of the devotional literature for Holy Land pilgrimages often deployed in crusading formulations. In 1100 crusader Stephen of Neublens cited it in a charter to
Cluny in explaining why he was going on crusade.60 Fulcher of
Chartres cited Psalm 131 in describing Bohemond and Baldwin on pilgrimage to Jerusalem after its fall to crusaders.61 In mid-century St.
Bernard of Clairvaux, in a letter to Peter the Venerable, used Psalms
131:7 to underscore the need to defend the Church in the East.62 The
focus here was on Jerusalem as the place where Christ had lived and
died, emphasizing Christ’s humanity, his lived life in the Holy Land,
and the physical geography that was the very goal of the crusade.
59
Graz, Universitätsbibliothek 239, fols. 144r–v. Pennington,“The Rite for Taking The
Cross,” p. 431:“qui propter amorem nominis tui omnem impietatem et secularia desideria abnegans, ad locum ubi dominus noster Iesus Christus filius tuus secundum carnem
ex virgine nasci, mori, et resurgere atque in celum ascendere voluit ire festinate. Iuxta
prophetie vaticinium de eo dicentis,‘Adorabimus in loco ubi stereunt pedes eius,’ [Ps.
131:7] exaudi propitius preces eius et vota clementer inspira, et quia humana fragilitas
nichil sine te potests dignum fructum penitentie facere, tribue ei auxilium eumque virtute custodiendo protege et protegendo custodi, quatinus per viam mandatorum
tuorum iugiter gradiens a te venie largitore et omnium bonorum datore, peracto presentis vite cursu, suorum mercedem laborum recepturus feliciter valeat.”
60
Constable, Crusaders and Crusading, p. 99.
61
Fulcher of Chartres, A History of the Expedition to Jerusalem 1095–1127, trans.
Frances Rita Ryan (Knoxville, 1969), p. 131 (book 1.33).
62
Schein, Gateway, p. 77–78; Constable,“The Cross of the Crusaders,” p. 318; Purkis,
Crusading Spirituality, pp. 96, 114.

18

THE PLACE OF JERUSALEM IN WESTERN CRUSADING RITES OF DEPARTURE

The themes were overwhelmingly devotional. They centered on
the cross; the living Christ as human, temporal, sufferer, and redeemer;
and the penitential disposition of the crusader himself.This valuation
of Jerusalem drew on a strand of devotional thought that prioritized
the humanity of Christ and in turn underscored the penitential and
devotional elements of crusading ideology. The emphasis on the
humanity of Christ—over the salfivic, eschatological powers of the
cross evoked by cross prayers inherited from the RGP—was in line
with larger trends in late twelfth- and especially thirteenth-century
devotion that grew along with the apostolic poverty movement and
the increased weight given to suffering (and suffering through crusade) as a passion in imitation of Christ’s Passion, all of which prioritized the geographical space of the Holy Land.63 Intended for a monk
(“frater”), a twelfth-century sacramentary for a monastic house in the
Narbonnais—perhaps St. Michel de Cuxa in the Pyrenees—emphasized Christ’s passion and humility:
Brother, accept the sign of the passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, and proceed forth to the church of Jerusalem, in which the glorious tomb of our
redeemer is known to all humanity, in so far as before him the rivulets of
your tears streams forth, may you be able to wash away the filth of your
crimes, as the Lord our Jesus Christ nods down on you [in approval].64

The text, and its context in a monastic sacramentary, underscores the
extent to which the cross was about Jerusalem pilgrimage, not just
crusade, and in turn the extent to which, ritually, Jerusalem crusade
continued to draw much of its devotional meaning from the paradigms of pilgrimage. Here as elsewhere, the emphasis was on Jesus’s
life and death, rather than on the Salvific power of Christ and the
eschatological powers of the Cross, and these prayers specified
explicitly the Church of Jerusalem as the goal. Likewise, a thirteenth63
The increasing importance of the humanity of Christ in crusading ideology is primarily evident in sermons; see Penny Cole, The Preaching of the Crusades to the Holy
Land, 1095–1270 (Cambridge, MA, 1991); Christoph T. Maier,“Mass, the Eucharist and
the Cross: Innocent III and the Relocation of the Crusade,” in Pope Innocent III and His
World, ed. John Moore (Brookfield, VT, 1999), pp. 351–60. This also is discussed by
Schein, Gateway, pp. 63–90.
64
Avignon, BM 178, fol. 155r: “Alia: Iesu Christi domini nostri passionis signum
accipe frater, et perge ad ecclesiam iherosolimitanum, in qua gloriosum sepulcrum
nostri redemptoris secundum humanitatem constat adesse, quatinus profusis coram eo
riuulis tuarum lacrimarum, abluere valeas sordes tuorum facinorum annuente ipso
domino nostro Iesu Christo. Qui cum patre et filio.” See Olivar, ed., El Sacramentario
de Vich, p. cviii.

BY M. CECILIA GAPOSCHKIN

19

century pontifical from the Tarentaise (in the Savoy) spoke of
Jerusalem in the “Benedictio crucis peregrinorum”as the “locum venerabilem passionis Domini nostri Iesu Christi.”65 As with the monastic example, this focused the prayer more fully on the spatial, temporal, and geographical Jerusalem as the locus of the Passion than on the
heavenly, eschatological, and transcendental Jerusalem.
Papal Practices: Toward Durandus
These were all local traditions, local adaptations to developing
devotional practices spurred by crusade. Surprisingly, the papacy
lagged in adopting either a rite for scrip and staff or one for the cross,
but when around 1250 it finally incorporated a rite for departing pilgrims and crusaders into the Roman Pontifical of the Thirteenth
Century (RP13), it offered both a generic rite for scrip and staff that
could be used for any pilgrimage and, separately, a rite “for the Cross
of those who are about to leave for Jerusalem.”66 This adoption of a
cross-scrip-staff rite was important because of the influence of the
Roman liturgy throughout Europe as local churches increasingly
adopted Roman rites.67 The blessing itself did not specifically evoke
Jerusalem, but its rubric for the cross did. In RP13, the rubric for the
scrip and staff reads “the Blessing for the scrip and staff of pilgrims
which is not found in the Lord Pope’s Ordinary”; as it did not specify
Jerusalem, it thus was appropriate for any pilgrimage. In contrast, the
two prayer items for the cross following the scrip-and-staff rite make
clear a Jerusalem destination: the blessing “upon the cross of those
who are to go to Jerusalem.” Here, the pontifical is clear—scrip and
staff is the signum of any pilgrimage, but the cross designates
Jerusalem pilgrimage specifically. The verb for the cross text designates simply movement or travel (iturus—he who is about to leave),
which made it appropriate for both devotional pilgrims and fighting
pilgrims, although the terms used for crusade in this period were
65
Aosta, Bibliothèque du Chapitre de la Cathédrale 5, fols. 95v–96r; Robert Amiet, Le
Pontifical d’Emeric de Quart [Monumenta liturgica ecclesiae augustanae, XIV], (Aoste,
1992), p. 116.
66
Michel Andrieu, Le Pontifical Romain au Moyen-Age: Tome II: Le Pontifical de la
Curie Romaine au XIIIe siècle, [ed. Studi e Testi, 87], (Vatican City, 1940), Ordo XX, pp.
418–20. On RP13, see the introduction to Andrieu’s edition;Vogel, Medieval Liturgy, p.
252.This development is covered more fully in Gaposchkin,“Origins and Development.”
67
Kay, Pontificalia. Kay’s repertory lists eighty-four pontificals that represent all or
parts of RP13.To be sure, the majority will not include this rite; the number simply represents the relative influence of this family of texts. Andrieu’s edition alone uses fourteen exemplars.

20

THE PLACE OF JERUSALEM IN WESTERN CRUSADING RITES OF DEPARTURE

overwhelmingly ones that designated “journey” or “travel” (profiscor;
iter).68 The imagery of the cross blessing, deploying a language of victorious arms and the “standard” of the cross, thus became part of the
broader discourse of crusade.
The generic scrip-and-staff rite, paired with a blessing for the cross
specific to Jerusalem, probably reflected a notional division, where the
cross blessing could be used to turn a pilgrimage rite into one specifically for Jerusalem pilgrims, but also might be used without the cross
texts for other pilgrimages. Manuscripts throughout the period did not
necessarily bundle the cross rite with the scrip-and-staff rite into one
overall rite with a single unifying rubric. Instead, “benedictio crucis,”
“benedictio perae,” and “benedicti baculi” (with a variable number of
prayers, or “alia”) were simply copied in sequence. Because others did
group blessings together in a single rite and a chronology can be outlined showing when cross and scrip/staff blessings began to be copied
in sequence, we can trace the developing practice for departing
Jerusalem pilgrims and crusaders. But there is no reason that the two
rites—cross on the one hand, scrip and staff on the other—could not
also be performed separately. Because of liturgical fluidity, the possibilities were infinite. Since rubrics for the scrip-and-staff prayers for the
most part never routinely adopted a language that indicated Jerusalem,
they could be used independently for, say, pilgrimage to Canterbury.
The watershed moment came with William Durandus, bishop of
Mende, c. 1293 (two year after the fall of Acre and thus at the end of
the classic crusade period), when he rewrote the Pontifical for
Mende.This pontifical, which effectively replaced RP13, standardized
the Roman Pontifical and was wildly popular on the continent
throughout the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Even more than
the curial liturgy of the thirteenth century, the rite spread to the north
in the later Middle Ages, particularly after the papacy moved to
Avignon.69 Durandus titled the rite “On the Benediction and the
Placing of the Cross of Those Departing in Aid of the Holy Land.”70
68

Tyerman, The Invention of the Crusades, pp. 50–51.
Michel Andrieu, Le Pontifical Romain au Moyen-Age: Tome III—Le Pontifical de
Guillaume Durand [ed. Studi e Testi, 88], (Vatican City, 1940), hereafter cited as
Andrieu, PWD; Vogel, Medieval Liturgy, pp. 253–55. Kay’s repertory contains eightyeight examples of manuscripts that either represent the Durandus Pontifical or incorporate elements of it. See Kay, Pontificalia.
70
Andrieu, PWD, p. 541, XXX:“De benedictione et imposition crucis proficiscentium
in subsidium terre sancte.”
69

BY M. CECILIA GAPOSCHKIN

21

This was finally, clearly, and definitively, a “crusading” rite, and it was a
rite that specifically demanded Jerusalem.The term Durandus used is
“subsidium terrae sanctae”—the same language used routinely for
crusade (and other forms of aid, financial and otherwise) to the Holy
Land.71 According to the instructions offered for the celebrant, the
blessing is “for those who wish to depart [proficisci] for the aid of the
Holy Land, the cross that is to be placed on him is blessed and placed
on him in this way.”72 Proficisci—meaning “to depart” or “to set out”—
was another one of those simple “movement” words (with iter) that
constituted the principal signifier of crusading.73 Durandus’s texts
incorporated, but reworked, many of the important texts from the
Roman liturgical tradition—including texts from the mass of inherited
travel and pilgrimage traditions that reached back into the ninth and
tenth centuries—but in a new and elegant formulation and—critically—with resonant additions. The central prayer for the handing
over the cross to the crusader added an explicit crusading reference
to Matthew 10:38, in which Christ enjoins his followers to “pick up
the cross and follow” him. The line had been a rallying cry for crusade
since 1095, and it is singularly remarkable that this is the first text to
incorporate it into the rite for blessing that very cross.74 Durandus
addressed “those who take up the cross to follow You and hurry
towards Your tomb”75—an explicit reference to Jerusalem crusading,
since it was precisely the sepulcher domini, the Holy Sepulcher, that
was the goal of Jerusalem conquest.The bishop recited:
So that he who wishes to come after You, might deny himself and follow
You by carrying his cross, we beseech Your immense clemency, in order
that this faithful servant of yours, who in following Your words desires to
deny himself and take up his cross and follow You, and to hasten towards
71

Björn Weiler, “The ‘Negotium Terrae Sanctae’ in the Political Discourse of Latin
Christendom, 1215–1311,” The International History Review, 25 (2003), 1–36, here 3.
Maureen Purcell, Papal Crusading Policy: The Chief Instruments of Papal Crusading
Policy and Crusade to the Holy Land from the Final Loss of Jerusalem to the Fall of
Acre, 1244–1291 (Leiden, 1975), p. 142.
72
Andrieu, PWD, p. 541:“Si quis proficisci desiderat in subsidium terre sancte, crux
illi imponenda hoc modo benedicitur et ei imponitur.”
73
Tyerman, The Invention of the Crusades, pp. 50–51.
74
This is an important theme in Purkis’s Crusading Spirituality. Purkis, in the early
chapters, follows the use of this language through to the Third Crusade and argues that,
although it was used widely for the First Crusade, under the influence of Bernard of
Clairvaux, the term was increasingly reserved for monastics. Purkis’s investigations do
not extend into the thirteenth century.
75
Andrieu, PWD, p. 542.

22

THE PLACE OF JERUSALEM IN WESTERN CRUSADING RITES OF DEPARTURE

Your tomb, may always and everywhere be protected by you; pluck him
from every danger, and absolve him from the chains of sin, and lead him in
the vow he has taken to the desired end.76

With Durandus, there is no doubt.This is a rite for crusaders who are
on Jerusalem crusade, owing everything to the penitential tradition of
pilgrimage, but centered squarely within the thirteenth-century spirituality of crusade that mixed passion and humanity with devotion to
Christ. As had been consistently the case in the rites that borrowed
from the deep inheritance of travel and pilgrimage, the prayer asked
God to protect the pilgrim/crusader from physical and spiritual dangers, requesting in particular absolution from the pains of sin. In this,
we have a deep continuity with the now ancient pilgrimage
entreaties. But we have moved from Rome to Jerusalem, from the
threshold of the apostles to the tomb of Christ.
Durandus’s rite was widely distributed in the fourteenth and fifteen centuries, and his texts were often incorporated into further
localized traditions that transmitted the rite’s direct focus on
Jerusalem.77 And directives to Jerusalem were increasingly common
even for rites not dependent on Durandus. A fourteenth-century
Spanish manuscript titles its rite “Blessing of the Cross of Those who
Desire to Go to the Holy Land”; a southern French manuscript is titled
“The Ordo for the Placing of the Cross of the Crucesignatus”78 (a specific term that distinguished crusader from pilgrim, developed c.
120079). In England, by the fifteenth century, the rite was called “The
Ordo of Blessing for Pilgrims Who [Are] Sailing to the Holy Land,” and,
in another rite, the instruction for blessing the cross was “The Blessing
of the Cross of Those Journeying to Jerusalem.”80 At the end of the fif76
Andrieu, PWD, p. 542:“ut quicumque vult post te venire, seipsum abneget et suam
crucem tollens te sequatur, quesumus immensam clementiam tuam, ut hunc famulum
tuum, qui iuxta verbum tuum seipsum abnegare suamque crucem tollere et te sequi
desiderat, et ad tuum properare sepulcrum, semper et ubique protegas et a periculis
omnibus eruas et a vinculo peccatorum absolvas acceptumque votum ad effectum deducat optatum.”
77
Pick,“Signaculum Caritatis,” p. 395.
78
For example, Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale, Lat. 966, fols. 152r–153r:“Benedictione
et imposicione crucis proficiscencium in subsidium terre sancte. Pick, “Signaculum
Caritatis,” pp. 412–13.
79
Markowski, “Crucesignatus: Its Origins and Early Usage”; Vatican City, Ottobon.
Lat. 330, fol. 273r,“Ordo ad imponendam crucem crucesignandis.”
80
For the “Lincoln Pontifical” (Cambridge, University Library Mm.3.21, fols. 194v–
196v), see Brundage,“Cruce signari,” p. 309:“Benediccio crucis pergentis Jerusalem.” For

BY M. CECILIA GAPOSCHKIN

23

teenth century a German rite was titled “Ordo of Blessing Pilgrims
Desiring to Sail to the Holy Land.”81
By the sixteenth century the hope of regaining Jerusalem had been
so subordinated to the greater, nearer, Ottoman threat that the Roman
liturgy of 1520, in replacing Durandus, titled the crusading rite “the
Benediction and Placing of the Cross of Those Going in Help and
Defense of the Christian Faith or the Recapturing of the Holy Land,”
explicitly emphasizing holy war.82 Whereas the goal remained, elusively, the recapture of the Holy Land, the rite had been fully disassociated from pilgrimage. No mention was made of a scrip-and-staff rite,
but following the cross-blessing were blessings for arms, blessing of
the sword, and the blessing and handing over of the war standard.83
This is mirrored in a different way by blessings for the crusader’s
cross that become separated in the manuscripts from scrip-and-staff
rites.84 Four centuries on, Jerusalem crusade was no longer keyed to
the paradigm of pilgrimage that had created it.

York, see W. G. Henderson, ed., Manuale et Processionale ad usum insignis ecclesiae
Eboracensis [The Publications of the Surtees Society, 63], (Durham, 1875), p. 104:
“Benedictio crucis et eorum qui in Hierusalem Proficiscuntur.”
81
Franz, Die kirchlichen Benediktionen, 2:284:“Ordo benedictionis ad peregrinos
navigare volentes ad terram sanctam.”
82
Alberto da Castello, Pontificale s[ecundu]m Ritu[m] Sacrosancte Romane
ecclesie (Venice, 1520), fols. 172r–v, emphasis added:“De benedictione et impositione
crucis profiscentibus in subsidium et defensionem fidei christiane seu recuperationem terre sancte.” The text is reprinted in Purcell, Papal Crusading Policy, pp.
200–01. Columbia University owns a copy of the pontifical; the author thanks
Consuelo Dutschke for verifying that the volume does not contain a rite for pilgrims.
See also the first printed edition of the Roman Pontifical (1485), where the rubric
reads “De Benedictione & imposition Crucis proficiscentibus in subsidium terre
sancte.” Manilio Sodi, ed., Il “Pontificalis Liber” di Agostino Patrizi Piccolomini E
Giovanni Burcardo (1485), [Monumenta Studia Instrumenta Liturgica], (Vatican City,
2006), 485 (no. 1506).
83
Alberto da Castello, Pontificale s[ecundu]m Ritu[m] Sacrosancte Romane ecclesie,“De benediction armorum” (fol. 173r),“De benedictione ensis” (fol. 173r),“De benedictione et traditione vexilli bellici” (fol. 173r–v).
84
Bamberg, Staatsbibliothek, lit. 56, fols. 171v–173r (printed in Franz, Die kirchlichen Benediktionen, 2:283–84);Trier, Bistumarchiv, MS. 570, fol. 282r–v, although the
rite is incomplete since the end of the manuscript is missing (both second half of the
fourteenth century or late-fourteenth century); the rites are closely related and are both
titled “Ordo ad suscipiendum signum crucis”; London, British Library, Add. 39762, fol.
162r,“Benedictio ad imponendam crucem.”

24

THE PLACE OF JERUSALEM IN WESTERN CRUSADING RITES OF DEPARTURE

Final Thoughts, Further Questions
Given the necessarily fragmentary and often local liturgical evidence pertaining to scrip, staff, and cross, it can be dangerous to formulate generalizations. But there are trends, and these trends point
toward the increasingly explicit focus on Jerusalem. Fundamentally,
the history of the rite underscores the dominance of the pilgrimage
paradigm in Jerusalem crusade through to the sixteenth century and
thus the importance not so much of Jerusalem in defining crusade,
but of pilgrimage in defining Jerusalem crusade. Jerusalem crusade
thus could always be associated with the prayers of the saints and the
remission of all sins that had been promised in the pilgrimage rites
well before 1095.The addition of the cross blessing to the old scripand-staff rite was probably an early, instinctive, spontaneous, and
inchoate liturgical response to the importance of the new symbol of
crusade, the badge of the cross. But once established, the rite then set
its own parameters, and its debt to the pilgrimage form meant that it
was difficult to disassociate the meaning of the departure ritual from
the focus on Jerusalem.There were clearly exceptions and local practices. Experimentation and invention, however, seemed to mark the
period from the mid-twelfth to the mid-thirteenth century. These
changes to the rite tended to invoke Jerusalem. As the rite focused on
Jerusalem, despite the many other theaters of crusade that emerged
during the thirteenth century, it structured a hierarchy of crusading,
valorizing, and sacralizing Jerusalem crusade as the model for “taking
up the cross.”
This was all complicated in so far as crusades were soon called to
destinations other than Jerusalem—that is, to geographical locations
without association with a holy space or saint’s shrine and thus not
considered a pilgrimage per se. As these new crusades did not involve
devotional shrines, the rite of cross, scrip, and staff always remained
centered on the Holy City. The imprecise language applied also
obscured the issue.Throughout the crusading period, especially in the
twelfth century, crusaders were designated as peregrini without distinguishing between armed and unarmed pilgrims to Jerusalem. As
new fronts of crusading emerged, crusaders—that is, people who
made a vow to crusade (“took the cross”)—continued to be called
“pilgrims” even if they traveled to places other than Jerusalem or to
destinations other than a holy site or shrine. The vocabulary that
developed at the end of the twelfth century did provide some separation between the “mere” devotional pilgrim and the armed pilgrim

BY M. CECILIA GAPOSCHKIN

25

(that is, crusader). Notably, these terms were based on the language of
the “cross bearer” or “cross wearer”—croisé, kreuzfahrer, crucesignatus. The language of the crucesignatus was in one sense a response
to the expansion of crusade, since one could now be crucesignatus
but not a pilgrim. This distinction between the crusader and the pilgrim allowed for forms of crusade (that is, papally sanctioned holy
war against enemies of the Church that incurred spiritual benefit
known as the indulgence) other than Jerusalem crusade. Therefore,
the language of crusading—applied to an individual signed by the
cross (crucesignatus)—did not distinguish, but the rite that blessed
that sign of the cross (signum crucis) increasingly and stubbornly
did. It was the Holy Land of the Crusades—the geographical location
where Christ had lived and died, the Holy City of his tomb, and the
gate to the Heavenly Jerusalem—that promoted and preserved the tie
between pilgrimage and holy war. In conjunction with the increasingly central place of Jerusalem, the prayers that explicitly identified
Jerusalem concretized it as a physical, obtainable space.This was not
the eschatological Jerusalem of transcendental metaphor, but rather
the setting of Christ’s life and death; the place of his tomb; the site of
special proximity to the Savior.
APPENDIX A: Notes on Sources
This study is drawn from research done for a larger project on the
transformation of rituals of departure for pilgrimage and crusade.
Listed here are only those sources pertinent to the discussion in this
article. Many, but not all, of the most interesting texts have been published. For the earlier period, the relevant sources are generally found
in sacramentaries, drawn here from editions of the Gelasian,
Gregorian, and Mozarabic sacramentary traditions. Starting in the
eleventh century, the relevant rites are principally found in pontificals. Thus the work here has relied heavily on the editions of the
Romano Germanic Pontifical (RGP) prepared by Cyril Vogel and
Reinhart Elze,85 as well as Michel Andrieu’s editions of the Roman
Pontifical of the Twelfth Century (RP12),86 the Roman Pontifical of
the Curia of the Thirteenth Century (RP13),87 and the Pontifical of
85

Vogel and Elze, eds., RGP.
Michel Andrieu, Le Pontifical Romain au Moyen-Age: Tome I—Le Pontifical
Romain du XIIe siècle, [Studi e Testi 86], (Vatican City, 1938).
87
Andrieu, Le Pontifical Romain au Moyen-Age: Tome II—Le Pontifical de la Curie
Romaine au XIII e siècle.
86

26

THE PLACE OF JERUSALEM IN WESTERN CRUSADING RITES OF DEPARTURE

William Durandus (PWD).88 There were, however, many local traditions that are not yet in print. Here, the catalogs and handlists of Victor
Leroquais (for France), John Brückmann (for England),89 and José
Janini and his collaborators (for Spain)90 have facilitated location of
relevant sources in the manuscripts. James Brundage has edited relevant texts for England.91 Lucy Pick examined much of the French
materials and published the relevant texts.92 Adolf Franz’s still important study of rituals and blessings also has been an important source,
particularly for German materials.93 Kenneth Pennington published
two extraordinary rites from Italy.94 Although Germany and Italy are
less well served by comprehensive and highly granulated catalogs,
Richard Kay’s recent repertory of medieval pontificals and benedictionals has enabled the discovery of many relevant texts.95 In most
cases, the original or a digital or microfilm copy of the text has been
acquired and consulted. Below is a list of the sources identified in the
article by their manuscript shelf-mark. When available, editions of
manuscripts have also been noted.
Sacramentaries
Berlin, Staatsbibliothek Phillipps 1667 (105), the Autun Sacramentary, also
known as the Phillipps Sacramentary 9 c. Odilo Heiming, ed., Liber
Sacramentorum Augustodunensis, [Corpus Christianorum Series Latina
49B], (Turnhout, 1984).
Paris, BNF Lat 12048, the Gellone Sacramentary (c. 800, France) (9 c).Antoine
Dumas, ed., Liber Sacramentorum Gellonensis. 2 vols., [Corpus
Christianorum. Series Latina, 159–159A], (Turnhout, 1981).
Gregorian Sacramentary. Jean Deshusses, ed., Le Sacramentaire Grégorien:
ses principales formes d’après les plus anciens manuscrits, 2nd ed.,
[Spicilegium Friburgense], (Fribourg, 1979).

88

Andrieu, PWD.
John Brückmann,“Latin Manuscript Pontificals and Benedictionals in England and
Wales,” Traditio, 29 (1973), 391–458.
90
José Janini, José Serrano, and Anscario Mund, Manuscritos litúrgicos de la
Biblioteca nacional (Madrid, 1969); José Janini, Ramón Gonzálvez, and A. M. Mundó,
Catálogo de los manuscritos litúrgicos de la catedral de Toledo (Toledo, 1977); José
Janini, Manuscritos liturgicos de las bibliotecas de España, 2 vols. (Burgos, 1977–80).
91
Brundage,“Cruce signari,” pp. 289–310.
92
Pick,“Signaculum Caritatis,” pp. 381–416.
93
Franz, Die kirchlichen Benediktionen, 2:271–89.
94
Pennington,“The Rite for Taking the Cross,” pp. 429–35.
95
Kay, Pontificalia. Available at http://kuscholarworks.ku.edu/dspace/bitstream/
1808/4406/3/PONTIFICALIA.pdf
89

BY M. CECILIA GAPOSCHKIN

27

Lerida,Arxiu de la Catedral, ms. 16 (olim 38), the Roda Sacramentary (Roda, c.
1000). J. R. Barriga Planas, ed., El sacramentari, ritual i pontifical de
Roda: cod. 16 de l’arxiu de la catedral de Lleida, c. 1000 (Barcelona,
1975), pp. 541–44.
Vich, Museo episcopal 66, the Vich Sacramentary (1038, Vich, Spain).
Alejandro Olivar, ed., El Sacramentario de Vich, [Monumenta Hispaniae
Sacra, Serie liturgica 4], (Barcelona, 1953).

Pontificals
Aosta, Bibliothèque du Chapitre de la Cathédrale ms. 5, fols. 95v–96r
(Tarentaise Pontifical, 1246–71). Robert Amiet, ed., Le Pontifical d’Emeric
de Quart, [Monumenta liturgica ecclesiae augustanae XIV], (Aoste, 1992),
pp. 118–19.
Avignon, Bibliothèque Municipale ms. 143, fols. 172r–175r (Sacramentary
from Caromb, 13 c) (unedited).
Avignon, Bibliothèque Municipale ms. 178, fols. 154r–155r (Pontifical from the
Narbonnais [St. Michel de Cuxa?], 12 c). Partial transcription in Olivar, ed.,
El Sacramentario de Vich, CVIII.
Bamberg, Staatliche Bibliothek ms. Lit. 56, fols. 171v–173r (Bamberg Pontifical,
14 c). Partial ed. in Franz, Die kirchlichen, 2:283–84.
Bamberg, Staatliche Bibliothek ms. Lit. 58, fols. 64r–64v (Salzburg Pontifical, 12
c) (unedited).
Bamberg, Staatliche Bibliothek ms. Lit 60, fols. 108v–109v (Benedictional from
Séez, 12 c) (unedited).
Barcelona, Archives of the Crown of Aragon, San Cugat, ms. 73, fols. 23v–24r
(Pontifical from San Cugat, 1218) (unedited).
Budapest, Orzágos Széchényi Könyvtár, lat. med. aev. ms. 330, fols. 153r–156r
(Biburg Rituale, 12 c). Walter Von Arx, ed., Das Klosterrituale Von Biburg
(Budapest, Cod. lat. m. ae. Nr. 330, 12 Jh.), [Spicilegium Friburgense 14],
(Freiburg, 1970), pp. 260–63.
Cambrai, Bibliothèque Municipale ms. 223, fols. 146r–147r (Cambrai
Pontifical, first half 13 c). Pick, ed., pp. 413–14.
Cambridge, Corpus Christi College ms. 146, p. 4 (Canterbury Pontifical,
1025–75) (unedited).
Cambridge, Corpus Christi College ms. 163, p. 288 (Winchester Pontifical, late
11 c) (unedited).
Cambridge, Trinity Library ms. B.11.10, fols.74r–75v, 77v–78r (Ely Pontifical,
late 12 c). Brundage, ed., pp. 303–06.
Cambridge, University Library ms. Ll.2.10, fols. 100v–103v (Ely Pontifical, late
12 c). Brundage, ed., pp. 303–06.
Cambridge, University Library ms. Mm.3.21, fols. 194v–196v (Lincoln
Pontifical, 15 c). Brundage, ed., pp. 307–10.
Cambridge, University Library ms. Ff.6.9, fol 85r–86r. (Coventry Pontifical, c.
1200.). Brundage, ed., pp. 306–07.

28

THE PLACE OF JERUSALEM IN WESTERN CRUSADING RITES OF DEPARTURE

Graz, Universitätsbibliothek ms. 186, fols. 81r–84r (Southern Italian,
Beneventan? Second half 12 c; “The Lambrecht Pontifical”). Pennington,
ed., pp. 433–35.
Graz, Universitätsbibliothek ms. 239, fols. 143v–146v (Southern Italian,
Beneventan? Second half 12 c,“The Bari Pontifical”). Pennington, ed., pp.
431–32.
London, British Library Add. ms. 39762, fol. 162r (Trier Pontifical, 15c)
(unedited).
London, British Library Harley ms. 2892, fols. 200r–v. Reginald Maxwell
Woolley, ed., The Canterbury Benedictional (British Museum, Harl, ms.
2892) (Woodbridge, UK, 1995), p. 126.
Madrid, Biblioteca Nationale ms. 678, fols. 67r–68v (Messina Pontifical, c.
1200) (unedited).
Milan, Bibliotheca Ambrosiana ms.A92, fols. 115r–116v (Palermo Pontifical 12
c, before 1167) (unedited).
Munich, Bayrische Staatsbibliothek Clm ms. 6427, fols. 133r–134r (11 c).
Published in Franz, Die kirchlichen, II:275–77; see also Clm ms. 9563, fol.
94v and Clm ms. 22040, fol. 103r (both 12 c).
Oxford, Magdalene College ms. 226, fols. 246r–246v (late 12 c, from the
Diocese of Canterbury). H. A. Wilson, ed., The Pontifical of Magdalen
College: With an appendix of extracts from other English mss. of the
twelfth century, (London, 1910), pp. 206–07.
Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale Lat ms. 966, fols. 152r–153r (Verdun Pontifical,
16 c). Pick, ed., pp. 412–13.
Paris, Bibliothèque de l’Arsenal ms. 332, fols. 24v–25v (Paris Pontifical, second
half 13 c). Pick, ed., pp. 413–14.
Reims, Bibliothèque Municipale ms. 341, 2v–3r (Reims Pontifical, c. 1100)
(unedited).
Rome, Biblioteca Casanatense ms. 614, fols. 18r–22r. Derek A. Rivard, ed.,“Pro
Iter Agentibus: The Ritual Blessings of Pilgrims and Their Insignia in a
Pontifical of Southern Italy,” Journal of Medieval History, 27 (2001),
388–92.
Saint Florian ms. XI 467, fols. 120r–122v.Adolph Franz, ed., Das rituale von St.
Florian aus dem zwölften jahrhundert (Freiburg, 1904), pp. 113–15.
Trier, Bistumarchiv ms. 570, fol. 282r–v (German Pontifical, 1389–1419)
(unedited).
Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana Lat. ms. 6748, fols. 51r–54r
(Montereale, 14 c) (unedited).
Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana Ottoboni. ms. 330, fols. 273r–v
(Maguelonne Pontifical, 15 c) (unedited).
Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek ms. Pal. 701, fols. 3r–3v,
134r–134v, doublet (Mainz, 11 c). Ed. in RGP, CCXII, p. 362.
Zurich, Zentralbibliothek Rheinau ms.114, fols. 63r–65r. Gebhard Hürlimann,
ed., Das Rheinauer Rituale (Zürich Rh 114, Anfang 12. Jh.), [Spicilegium
Friburgense 5], (Freiburg, 1959), pp. 142–43.

“TEARS OF THE INDIANS”
OR SUPERFICIAL CONVERSION?
JOSÉ DE ACOSTA,THE BLACK LEGEND,AND SPANISH
EVANGELIZATION IN THE NEW WORLD
BY

GREGORY MURRY*

The author analyzes the changing English perceptions of Spanish
evangelization in the Americas, arguing that José de Acosta’s work
marked a fundamental shift in English attitudes toward Catholic
claims of native conversions.Whereas the earliest Black Legend stories had emphasized Spanish rapacity and native rejection of
Christianity, later English controversialists seized on Acosta’s
admissions of superficial conversions to argue that Spaniards had
succeeded in partial conversions only because Catholicism was
marked by the same forms of idolatry and superstition as native
religions.
Keywords: Acosta, José de; Black Legend; missionaries; religion
Upon these lambes [the Indians] so meeke, so qualified et endowed of
their maker and creator, as hath bin said, entred the Spanish incontinent as
they knewe them, as wolves, as lions, et as tigres most cruel of long time
famished: and have not done in those quarters these 40. yeres be past, neither yet doe at this present, ought els save teare them in peeces, kill them,
martyre them, afflict them, torment them, et destroy them, by straunge
sortes of cruelties.1

So wrote the controversial champion of native rights, the Dominican
Bartolomé de Las Casas, unintentionally injecting the “tears of the
Indians” motif into the virulent and persistent anti-Spanish tradition
*Dr. Murry is assistant professor of history at Mount Saint Mary’s University in
Emmitsburg, MD, email: murry@msmary.edu.
1
Bartolome de las Casas, A briefe Narration of the destruction of the Indes, by the
Spanyardes, English trans. by M. M. S. from the French translation of the Castilian original by Jacques de Miggrode (London, 1583), sig.A[1v].Accessed through Early English
Books Online, hereafter abbreviated as EEBO (December 8, 2006).

29

30

“TEARS OF THE INDIANS” OR SUPERFICIAL CONVERSION?

known as the Black Legend—the enduring English characterization of
Spaniards as intolerant, cruel, and violent religious fanatics.2 Given Las
Casas’s obvious importance in forming English perceptions of Spain
in the Americas, it is no surprise that scholars of the Black Legend
have focused so heavily on him and the two things that his scathing
pen so acerbically denounced: Spanish rapacity and cruelty.3 Perhaps
less appreciated is the fact that to a large degree, Englishmen also
formed their first impression of the Indian from Las Casas’s tract.
Docile and intelligent, Las Casas’s native was ready at any moment to
adopt Christianity if only it was brought to him by a gentle and willing soul.Thus, as Englishmen gobbled up the continual reprints of Las
Casas’s general indictment of the Spanish conquest, they were supplied in turn with a ready-made indictment of Spanish evangelization;
in short, it was widely believed that Spanish greed and cruelty had
ruined a promising situation for Christianity.
As will be seen, the tropes of Spanish rapacity and Indian docility
did not go away. However, these were not the only tropes that seeped
out of Spanish sources. As historians of colonial Latin America have
noted, optimism about the potential for native conversion did not last.
Spanish clergymen like José de Acosta slowly began to understand that
many natives had only been superficially converted to Christianity.
When Acosta’s admissions were transmitted to England, English
thinkers seized on them to argue that Spaniards had succeeded in partial conversions primarily because of the essential congruity between
Catholicism and the superstitious Indian religions. Moreover, if
Englishmen had absorbed the conception of the docile, blank-slated
Indian from Las Casas, then just as quickly did they absorb the opposite from Acosta. Acosta’s Indian was a weak creature, often irrational
and frequently in the snares of the devil.4 Accepting this characteriza2
Las Casas first published the Brief Narration in 1552, but it was not translated into
English until 1583. However, it should not be assumed that educated Englishmen were
unaware of the pamphlet or its contents before the translation.The phrase Tears of the
Indians is one of the many titles of the English translation of Las Casas’s work. It also
was a title chapter of William Maltby’s influential The Black Legend in England: The
Development of Anti-Spanish Sentiment, 1558–1660 (Durham, 1971).
3
See Maltby, The Black Legend, pp. 12–28; Ricardo García Cárcel, La Leyenda negra:
Historia y opinión (Madrid, 1992), pp. 221–38; Julian Juderias, La Leyenda Negra:
Estudios acerca del concepto de España en el Extranjero, 13th ed. (1914; repr. Madrid,
1954), pp. 233–43; and Christopher Hodgkins, Reforming Empire: Protestant
Colonialism and Conscience in British Literature (Columbia, MO, 2002), pp. 54–76.
4
See Claudio M. Burgaleta, José de Acosta S.J. (1540–1600): His Life and Thought
(Chicago, 1999), p. 110; Sabine MacCormack, Religion in the Andes: Vision and

BY GREGORY MURRY

31

tion, English Protestants exploited the fact that many Indians had
seemed to take so readily to Catholicism to argue that Catholicism
was—like Indian religion—essentially “savage” and pagan. In the
process, they were able to pair this new argument with old staples of
antipopery (such as the charge that Catholics were idolaters5); to
sharpen their views on emerging elements of antipopery (such as the
claim that miracles were not a necessary feature of the true Church);
and to adopt novel categories of antipopery (such as the charge that
transubstantiation was theoretically akin to Indian cannibalism). In the
end, these charges helped to demarcate more sharply between Roman
Catholic and English creeds by linking the presumed exotic savagery
of the natives to the more familiar savagery of Catholic doctrine.
Gold Was Their God: Spanish Rapacity and Indian Innocence
The Black Legend was an important aspect of English identity, composed as it was of a mix of xenophobia directed against the national
enemy of Spain and religious antagonism directed against the
“menace” of Catholicism. Thus, Las Casas’s tract condemning Spanish
actions in America provided welcome grist for both anti-Spanish and
anti-Catholic propaganda. Moreover, Las Casas’s work provided a perfect response to Spanish missionaries’ claims of massive native conversions, claims that English Protestants could not afford to ignore.
Indeed, the issue at hand was no minor point of abstruse theological
disputation; rather, Catholic claims of missionary success struck at the
very heart of Protestant ecclesiastical legitimacy. Divisions of opinion
on which church was the true church abounded in early-modern
Europe, but most English Protestants agreed with their Catholic antagonists that the church ought to be one, holy, catholic, and apostolic. If
Protestants most often leveled the charge that Roman Catholicism was
neither holy nor apostolic, then Catholics found their most devastating
response in charges that Protestantism was neither one nor catholic,
which everyone understood to mean universal. Catholic controversialists did not bypass the opportunity to point out that Catholicism alone
had made converts among the newly discovered peoples, an argument

Imagination in Early Colonial Peru (Princeton, 1991), p. 269. See also José de Acosta,
“De Procuranda Indorum Salute,” in Obras del P. Jose de Acosta (1589; repr. Madrid,
1954), p. 568; José de Acosta, The Naturall and Moral Historie of the East and West
Indies, trans. E.G. (London, 1604); EEBO (March 4, 2010), p. 379.
5
See Anthony Milton, Catholic and Reformed: The Roman and Protestant
Churches in English Protestant Thought, 1600–1640 (New York, 1995), p. 189.

32

“TEARS OF THE INDIANS” OR SUPERFICIAL CONVERSION?

clearly designed to bolster their claims of unity and universalism.
Arguing along these lines, the English Jesuit John Fisher claimed that
overseas conversions had been made,“onely by those, who were membres o the Romaine Church, et chiefly by Iesuites sent thither by the
auctoritie of the Pope.”6 Thus, English Protestants faced accusations
that their inability to mount effective campaigns of overseas conversion delegitimized their claim to authentic Christianity.
For a time, Las Casas’s critique of Spanish behavior in the New World
provided a ready-made response—native peoples had in fact rejected
Christianity, so Englishmen could claim, because of the Spaniards’ own
bad example. How could the Spaniards bring Christ to the Indies when
they had no other God but gold? Las Casas’s story of the apostate Cuban
lord was one of the most oft-cited plays on this theme. Told that
Spaniards went to heaven when they died, one quick-witted cacique
apparently quipped that he therefore wished to go to hell, rather than
anyplace where such people should be.7 The story first seems to have
entered into controversialist literature in 1589, in an antipapal tract by
Thomas Rogers.8 William Burton repeated it in 1593,9 and thereafter it
seems to have become common currency. By 1633 the Puritan divine
Thomas Adams could repeat the story in a passing phrase, as if he
expected that his readers were already familiar with it.10 Since Samuel
Annesley was still repeating the story in 1661,11 it is clear that attacks
on Spanish rapacity and cruelty never went out of fashion.
Moreover, whereas Las Casas had distinguished betwixt the conquistadors and missionaries,12 Protestants generally made no such distinction. For instance, in 1624 John Reynolds wrote:
6

John Fisher, A Treatise of Faith (St. Omer, 1605); EEBO (December 6, 2006), p. 122.
Las Casas, A Brief Narration, sig. B[4r].
8
Thomas Rogers, An Historical Dialogue Touching Antichrist and Poperie
(London, 1589); EEBO (March 3, 2010), p. 113.
9
William Burton, David’s Euidenence (London, 1592); EEBO (December 6, 2006),
p. 25.
10
Thomas Adams, A Commentary Or, Exposition Upon The Divine Second Epistle
General Written by . . . St. Peter (London, 1633); Digital Library of Protestant Texts hereafter abbreviated as DLPT (March 3, 2010), p. 12. The citation is in the context of an
attack on Jesuit morals standards. Adams noted that the Jesuits must have been more
interested in gold than souls and cited as evidence the fact that the “the poor Indian
refused to go to heaven . . . if Spaniards should be there.”
11
Samuel Annesley, The Morning Exercises at Cripplegate (1661; repr. London,
1844); DLPT (March 3, 2010), p. 506.
12
Las Casas, A Brief Narration, sig. F[3r]-G[3r].
7

BY GREGORY MURRY

33

. . . behold the horrible Hipocrisie of these insulting and vsurping
Castillians; for demaund them the reason of these their bloudy and execrable Massacres, of those poore armelesse and harmlesse Indians, and of
the rooting out and exterminating of all their Princes and Nobility, they
with as much falshood as impiety will affirme, that sith their King is the
Catholique King, so this is to plant the Catholique faith in the remote, and
new found Worlds of the World; whereby we may obserue, that Religion
must still be the pretext, and cloke of their bloudy Vsurpation, when
Heauen and Earth knowes and sees, that it is first gold, then a greedy desire
of Dominion and Empire, which is the true cause, and sole obiect
thereof.13

Gone is Las Casas’s distinction between soldier and friar; Reynolds
and others flattened the whole conquest into a monolithically
Spanish endeavor, in which the missionaries were just as gold-hungry
as the conquistadors. As Thomas Adams rather vividly put it, missionaries like the Jesuits “went not to fetch sheep to Christs fold, but to
sheere their wool and flay their skins.”14 Having taken this line, further
comment on the success of evangelization was unnecessary; Spanish
rapacity had made the endeavor both hypocritical and futile.
José de Acosta and Changing Views of Indian Evangelization
Reynolds’s argument also brought another characterization to the
fore—the picture of the docile and innocent Indian. Many early
accounts had indeed reported the more frightening aspects of Indian
religion,15 but Englishmen had taken little notice of these. Far more
popular was the picture lifted straight out of the pages of Las Casas,16
who claimed that the naturally docile Indians rejected Christianity
only because it was brought on the point of a sword. Led to it gently,
they would quickly become the best Christians in the world. In the
Brevissima Relacion, he wrote:
13
John Reynolds, Vox Coeli (London, 1624); EEBO (March 3, 2010), p. 6; emphasis in
original. To some extent, this is a characterization that persists today in the collective
Anglo-American historical consciousness. However, few would suggest that either of
the two missionary protagonists of this article, Las Casas and Acosta, were insincere in
their missionary endeavors.
14
Adams, A Commentary, p. 12.
15
Miguel Molina Martinez, La leyenda negra (Madrid, 1991), p. 56.
16
Las Casas did treat Indian idolatry extensively in his unpublished Apologética
Historia but preferred to see it in a rather positive light. See Cárcel, La Leyenda, pp.
225–26; and Sabine MacCormack,“Gods, Demons, and Idols in the Andes,” The Journal
of the History of Ideas, 67 (2006), 631–38.

34

“TEARS OF THE INDIANS” OR SUPERFICIAL CONVERSION?

[The Indians] have their understanding very pure and quicke, being teachable and capable of all good learning, verye apt to receive our Holy
Catholique faith, and to be instructed in good and vertuous manners,
having lesse encombrances and disturbances to the atteyning thereunto,
then al the folke of the world besids, and are so enflamed, ardent, and
importune to knowe and understand the matters of the faith, after they
have but begunne once to taste them.17

No doubt, this was most Englishmen’s first perception of Native
American peoples, a view certainly gleaned by reading the reports of
the earliest Spanish missionaries, who had been blissfully confident in
the sincerity of mass native conversions. However, by the 1560s, their
initial enthusiasm had been badly shaken by a number of spectacular
failures. Scandal rocked the valley of Mexico as early as 1539 when
the cacique of Texcoco admitted to encouraging fellow natives to
continue their practices of indigenous idolatry.18 Much the same happened elsewhere. After discovering the persistence of idolatry in the
Yucatan, the Franciscan Diego de Landa had instituted a brutal inquisition in 1562.19 By the late-sixteenth century, worries about the perseverance of native religion had developed into full-fledged inquisitions in the Andes as well.20 It is not too much to say that by Acosta’s
time, some of his fellow clergymen had begun to harbor serious disillusionment toward the prospect of real and lasting native conversion.
Thus, alarmed Spanish missionaries belatedly revised Las Casas’s original conception of the docile Indian.The new view posited that superficial conversion to Christianity belied a perverse attachment to idolatry and heathen deities. Some Spanish clergymen were so
disillusioned that they argued further attempts at conversion were a
waste of time. Others remained optimistic but argued that moving
beyond a mere superficial conversion would be more difficult and
require much more time than expected.
The most important interlocutor for this point of view was almost
certainly Acosta, who as the holder of the chair of theology in Lima
17

Las Casas, A Brief Narration, sig.A[1v].
Robert Ricard, The Spiritual Conquest of Mexico: An Essay on the Apostolate
and the Evangelizing Methods of the Mendicant Orders in New Spain: 1523–1572
(1933; repr. Berkeley, 1966), pp. 272–74.
19
Matthew Restall, Maya Conquistador (Boston, 1998), pp. 14–15.
20
See MacCormack, “Gods, Demons, and Idols,” p. 639; and Kenneth Mills, “The
Naturalization of Andean Christianities,” in The Cambridge History of Christianity, Vol.
6: Reformation and Expansion, 1500–1660, ed. Ronnie Po-Chia Hsia (New York,
2007), pp. 504–35.
18

BY GREGORY MURRY

35

had extensive firsthand experience in both the Andes and Mexico.21
Acosta rejected both the naiveté of the early missionaries and the
despair of some of his own contemporaries, arguing instead that converting natives was possible but would require patience, a virtuous
clergy, and daily repetition of Christian doctrine. Had not the ancient
Britons, so Acosta asked, practiced ceremonies just as brutal? Had not
they been successfully converted centuries before?22
In 1589 Acosta published his de Procuranda Indorum salute,
hotly followed by his more wide-ranging Historia natural y moral
de las Indias, first published in 1590. Rather tellingly, it did not take
long for Acosta to make the jump into English, and his larger volume
was translated and published in London in 1604. Among other
claims, Acosta distinguished between three types of Indian: the literate, the semi-civilized, and the barbarian. Literate pagans, like the
Japanese and Chinese, could be converted without state backing, for
these were the most akin to the Greeks and Romans of antiquity.
Semi-civilized sedentary societies that were nonliterate, like the
Mexica and the Inca, needed the constant support of a Christian
political system if they were not to quickly slip back into idolatry.
Force was only licit against the wildest barbarians and only if they
had rejected peaceful advances by killing and eating the missionaries.23 Acosta was not the first to link the Indians of the New World
to the pagans of antiquity; Las Casas had done the same. However,
whereas Las Casas had argued that the American natives were essentially similar to the Romans,24 Acosta never shared such an optimistic view of any American civilization.25 Acosta agreed with Las
Casas’s assertion that violence against the natives had harmed the
cause of the faith,26 but he also realized that conversion would not
be as easy as Las Casas had expected, especially since many of the
original missionaries had baptized the Indians without properly
instructing them.27

21
For a description of Acosta’s career in Spanish America, see Burgaleta, José de
Acosta, pp. 33–55.
22
Acosta, The Naturall, p. 346.
23
Acosta, de Procuranda, pp. 392–93, 453.
24
Càrcel, La Leyenda, p. 226.
25
Apart from suggesting that the devil had used the same tricks on both the Incas
and the Romans.Acosta, The Naturall, p. 337.
26
Acosta, de Procuranda, pp. 418–20.
27
Acosta, de Procuranda, p. 581.

36

“TEARS OF THE INDIANS” OR SUPERFICIAL CONVERSION?

Acosta’s work focused most heavily on those Indians he knew best:
the nonliterate “semi-civilized.” Although quick to accept baptism,
Acosta realized that these Indians were not blank slates and that they
often reverted to idolatry.28 Believing that the Indians’ bad customs
were caused more by nurture than nature and that they were capable
of understanding Christianity,29 Acosta underscored the need for
patience. He argued that conversion would be slow, difficult, and discordant because of a number of things, not least of which were the
disconcerting similarities between native religions and Catholicism.30
Moreover, the realization that natives were not tabulae rasae presented itself to Acosta as a double-edged sword. On one hand, aspects
of native religion that were superficially similar to Catholic teaching
made conversion easier. For instance, because natives believed in a
supreme God,“the Preachers of the Gospel have no great difficultie to
plant et perswade this truth of a supreame God, be the Nations of
whome they preach never so barbarous and brutish.” Indeed, Acosta
found that some native beliefs could be entirely reconciled to
Christianity. On the other hand, much survived that could not; for
instance, although it was easy to persuade Indians of the truth of the
one supreme God,“it is hard to roote out of their mindes, that there is
no other God, nor any other deitie then one.”31 Thus, Acosta
approached native religions with a cautious ambivalence.
Of special concern were the many customs that bore superficial
resemblance to Catholic rites, for Acosta noted that native
Mesoamerican religion had a dizzying array of similarities to
Catholicism, including a hierarchical priesthood, a celibate monastic
life, confession, unction, the jubilee feast, and a type of Eucharist made
28
“quia morum et ritum et legum monstra tot tantasque apud hosce sunt, et tanta in
subditos saeviendi licentia, ut nisi potentia superiore et autoritate regantur, vix aut
Evangelij lucem aut homine ingenuo vitam dignam accepturi videantur, aut si semel
acceperint, non facile in ea perservaraturi intelligantur”(“because they keep such a
monstrosity of morals, rites, and laws, and among the subjects have such a license for
violent disobedience, if they are not ruled by a greater power and authority, it will be
difficult for them to receive the light of the gospel and the life worthy of men, and if
they will receive it once, they will not easily understand how to perservere in it.”). From
de procuranda salute de India, cited in Diego Pirillo, “Il battesimo degli Indios:
polemiche di fine Cinquecento,” in Salvezza delle anime, disciplina dei corpi; un seminario sulla storia del battesimo (Pisa, 2006), 425–48, here p. 431.Translation provided
by the author.
29
Acosta, de Procuranda, pp. 393, 426–27.
30
Acosta, de Procuranda, pp. 568–69.
31
Acosta, The Naturall, p. 335.

BY GREGORY MURRY

37

from maize cakes.32 Whereas some had thereby suspected that the
Indians had learned about Christianity before the Spaniards’ arrival,
Acosta was skeptical of such arguments.33 How then to explain the
similarities? In his Natural and Moral History, Acosta claimed that
the pagan rites were all the result of diabolic counterfeit. Seeking to
be like God, the devil had in his pride imitated the Church’s most holy
rites.34 However, dealing with these similarities was a tricky business
because it was plain to see that the preexistence of similar indigenous
rites facilitated acceptance of the corresponding Catholic rites.Thus,
Acosta recommended a judicious mix; destruction of idols was to be
coupled with the channeling of old customs into acceptable Catholic
practice.35 For instance, a candle could be lit for health, but only to
God and only inside the Church,36 whereas the excessive brutality of
Indian confession was to be fought by encouraging Catholic confession.37 On this account he wrote:
There should be great care that in place of the old pernicious rites we
introduce other more salubrious ones and replace some ceremonies with
others. As to Holy water, images, rosaries, holy beads, candles, and all the
rest that the holy Church approves, priests should be persuaded that they
are very good for the neophytes.38
32

Acosta, The Naturall, pp. 358–75, 391–420.
Acosta, de Procuranda, p. 397.
34
See Acosta, The Naturall, p. 393 and 505, where he writes,“without doubt it is a
true thing, that the Divell the prince of pride, hath laboured by the superstitions of this
Nation, to counterfaite & imitate that which the most high God did with this Nation:
for as is said before, Satan hath a strange desire to compare and make himself equal
with God.” See also Burgaleta, José de Acosta, p. 110: “Acosta reminds his readers in the
Historia that it should not shock them that so many of the idolatrous practices of the
Aztecs and Incas remind one of the sacraments of the Catholic Church, since it is well
known that the devil proceeds by imitating and mocking the order that God had established.” Another secondary source on this matter is MacCormack’s Religion in the
Andes. In places, MacCormack has claimed that the influence of demons was not
important in Acosta’s thought; however, Burgaleta has challenged this reading. See
Burgaleta, José de Acosta, p. 123. At any rate, MacCormack is inconsistent in her treatment of the role played by demons and diabolic counterfeit in Acosta’s perception of
native religion. See MacCormack, Religion in the Andes, pp. 269, 277–79.
35
Although Acosta was adamant that confiscating idols from nonconverted natives
was counterproductive, he did allow for the confiscation of idols from converted
natives. See Acosta, de Procuranda, pp. 564–65.
36
Acosta, de Procuranda, p. 564.
37
Acosta, de Procuranda, pp. 596–97.
38
Acosta, de Procuranda, p. 565:“hay que tener gran cuidado de que en vez de los
ritos perniciosos se introduzcan otros saludables, y borrar unas cerimonias con
otras. El agua benditas, las imágenes, los rosarios, las cuentas benditas, los cirios y
33

38

“TEARS OF THE INDIANS” OR SUPERFICIAL CONVERSION?

The strategy of channeling native rites into Catholic piety was not
Acosta’s own invention;39 however, this was the first time this strategy
would have entered English consciousness, and the English would
seize upon this admission with vigor.
Indian Idolatry, Catholic Idolatry, and Superficial Conversion
The English seized upon Acosta’s admission because it seemed to
confirm their worst fears about Catholicism, and although they
accepted Acosta’s admissions about partial conversion, they accentuated the idea that Catholic preaching was superficially successful
because of its similarities to native religions.Whereas Acosta identified
the nub of the problem in ineffectual instruction, Protestants cited the
resemblances between Catholicism and native religions as proof that
Catholicism was as heavily imbued with superstition and prone to the
snares of anti-Christ as Indian religion. Protestants who read Acosta certainly agreed that some natives were being converted, but not to true
Christianity; rather, natives had just exchanged one set of superstitions
for another. Much of this rhetoric centered on the charge of idolatry,
which is only natural since it was idolatry that, according to Anthony
Milton, was the Roman error that “loomed larger than all the others—
an error that made Rome’s guilt almost uniquely despicable.”40
One of the first to grasp the implications of Acosta’s admissions
was the highly learned George Abbot, archbishop of Canterbury.
Responding to Catholic charges that Protestants had not mounted
successful campaigns of conversion because it was impossible for
heretics to make converts, he shot back:
your Indian Converts of whom you boast, gaine but a little by you; for you
mingle to their handes the doctrine of the Gospell, with many pollutions
of vile Idolatry, et most horrible superstition, like to that of the olde
Heathens.41

las demás cosas que aprueba y frecuenta la santa Iglesia, persuádanse los sacerdotes que son muy oportunas para los neófitos.” Emphasis in original.
39
Apart from the many medieval precedents, this had already been done in the context of Latin America as well. See Amos Megged,“‘Right from the Heart’: Indians’ Idolatry
in Mendicant Preachings in Sixteenth-Century Mesoamerica,” History of Religions, 35
(1995), 61–82.
40
Milton, Catholic and Reformed, p. 187.
41
George Abbot, The Reasons which Dr. Hill hath brought for the upholding of
Papistry (Oxford, 1604); EEBO (March 3, 2010), p. 172. Abbot cites Acosta in several
places in his work.

BY GREGORY MURRY

39

Abbot’s argument often was repeated throughout the first half of the
century. In 1618 the Puritan divine Thomas Cartwright wrote,“what
are those by you converted but Popish Proselites, translated out of the
state of Heathenish, to Anti-christian idolatries and superstitions.”42
Thus, some Protestants grew willing to grant that Catholics had made
conversions, but only because, as the moderate puritan Andrew Willet
put it, “They make their converts, by superstitious doctrines.”43 The
end result was that conversion to Catholicism was no conversion at
all since Indians,“in their first conversion to Christianity do drink in
[Catholic] drugs and errors of doctrine.”44 Richard Baxter, an avid
reader of Acosta, expressed the sentiment a little more picturesquely
when he wrote:
. . . two Things spoiled their success [of the Iberian missionaries] . . .1.That
when they took down the Heathen Images, they set them up others in
the stead; and made them think that the main difference was, but whose
Image they should worship: And withal, by their Agnus Dei’s, and such
like Trinkets, made Religion seem childish and contemptible.45

Thus, the most common charge centered on presumed similarities
between Catholic and native idolatry; indeed,Acosta’s proposed strategy of using Catholic ritual to replace native ritual only reinforced
Protestant assumptions that Catholics had won over their converts by
simply neglecting to explain true Christianity fully. To Protestants,
such a situation had surely arisen both because of Catholic missionaries’ duplicity and Catholicism’s deviation from true Christian norms.
However, the associations did not stop there. As Milton notes,
Protestant critiques of Catholic idolatry were not limited to images.
Protestants also tended to see idolatry in the doctrine of Roman primacy since Catholics had in effect set up the pope over God.46 In his
Felicitie of Man, Sir Richard Barcklay juxtaposed the claims over
nature made by Mexica emperors and claims of temporal power made
by popes, writing:
42
Thomas Cartwright, A Confutation of the Rhemist Translation (Leiden, 1618);
DLPT (December 7, 2006), p. 258.
43
Andrew Willet, Hexapla (Cambridge, 1620); DLPT (March 5, 2010), p. 713.
44
Willet, Hexapla, p. 298.
45
Richard Baxter,“The Reasons of the Christian Religion,” in The practical works of
the late reverend and pious Mr. Richard Baxter (London, 1707); DLPT (March 5, 2010),
p. 164. Emphasis in original.
46
Milton, Catholic and Reformed, p 184.

40

“TEARS OF THE INDIANS” OR SUPERFICIAL CONVERSION?

Who will marvell at the promises that the kings of Mexico make when
they are first chosen, that will compare them with the power the Popes
arrogate to themselves: that the Sunne shall hold his course and brightnesse, that the clouds shall raine, the rivers shall run, and the earth shall
bring forth all kinds of fruit. But what is it that these flatterers of the Popes
will shame to speake, to win or continue their favour.47

Whereas Acosta had solved the problem of native religion’s likeness
to Christianity by arguing for diabolic counterfeit, thereby driving a
wedge between Catholicism and native religions, Protestants paired
native idolatry with their most enduring and important critique of
Catholic practice, thereby driving a wedge between themselves and
their Catholic opponents.
Jesuit Lies and Miracle Stories
In Acosta’s schema, the licitness of force in conversion depended
upon local circumstances. Although not necessary in the East Indies,
he argued, the backing of the Christian monarchies was certainly necessary in the West. Not everyone shared his opinion, however. Critics
of the use of force deemed any such backing unnecessary and
appealed to the apostolic age as proof. Had not the apostles converted
a large portion of the known world without any political help, they
argued. Acosta countered by claiming that such comparisons were fallacious. Although the Chinese and Japanese civilizations may have
been comparable to the Greeks and Romans of antiquity, the conversion of natives in the West was a different matter. Western Indians
could not be treated like Greeks and Romans because they did not
possess sufficient reason.48 Developing this argument, Acosta admitted something that really attracted the attention of English
Protestants—the situation in the New World was different than the
apostolic age because the missionaries could not perform miracles.
On this account he wrote,“the other cause [of failure] is in ourselves,
for the apostolic preaching cannot be done entirely apostolically,
because there be no ability to do miracles, of which the Apostles did
many.”49 From English Protestants’ point of view, Acosta’s argument
was a bombshell, and Protestant writers instantly seized on it, for

47

Richard Barckley, The Felicitie of Man, 2nd ed. (London, 1631); EEBO (February
25, 2010), p. 187.
48
Acosta, De Procuranda, p. 443.
49
Acosta, De Procuranda, p. 434.

BY GREGORY MURRY

41

Catholic controversialists had long made the miracles done in the
Indies a mark of Catholicism’s apostolic legitimacy.
One of the first to seize on Acosta’s admission was the famous poet
and Catholic abjurer John Donne, who wrote:
Acosta makes vs doubt of the truth of those miracles, which are related,
because he spends a Chapter in giuing reasons, why in our age, in preaching the Gospell in the Indies, there is not that strength of miracles, which
was in the primitiue Church.50

Donne may have been one of the first to use Acosta explicitly in this
line of argument, but he was by no means the last. In 1617, Joseph Hall
made a similar claim, writing:
Even Card. Bellarmine can abide to come in as an auoucher of these
couzenages; who dares auerre that his fellow Xauier had not only healed
the deafe, dumb and blinde, but raised the dead;Whiles his brother Acosta
after many yeeres spent in those parts can pull him by the sleeve, and tell
him in his eare, so lowd that all the world may heare him, Prodigia nulla
producimus, neque verò est opus.51

Limitations of geographic knowledge aside, Donne and Hall were not
content to use Acosta merely to question the veracity of the Jesuits;
naturally, they extended the argument to attack Catholic claims of
apostolic legitimacy as well. In 1609 William Barlow, bishop of
Lincoln, hit the mark far more squarely, arguing:
As for telling tales in the Indies, that is proprium quarto modo to the
Iesuites,52 who make it a principall part of their profession to winne credit
to their Societie by Indian Fables. Were it not for Congo, or Cochachine,
or Iaponia, or the Maluchees, or other part of the Indies, East or West,
Bozius had lost that signe of the true Church.53

The Bozius to which Barlow was referring was Thomas Bozius, an
Italian Oratorian who had explicitly tied miracles to apostolic legitimacy in his 1591 De Signis Ecclesiae Dei.54 Although Barlow was cer50

Donne, Pseudo-Martyr, p. 126.
Hall,“Quo Vadis?,” p. 652, emphasis in original.
52
A Latin idiom that loosely translated means a property widely shared.
53
William Barlow, An Answer to a Catholic Englishman (London, 1609); EEBO
(December 7, 2006), p. 146. Emphasis in original.
54
Sabine MacCormack, “Ubi Ecclesia? Perceptions of Medieval Europe in Spanish
America,” Speculum, 69 (1994), 74–100, here 79.
51

42

“TEARS OF THE INDIANS” OR SUPERFICIAL CONVERSION?

tainly ridiculing the claim that Indian miracles marked the Roman
Church out as the true one, his sarcasm betrays a deeper theological
split; indeed, many Protestants had long evinced skepticism toward all
Catholic miracle claims, overseas or elsewhere.
Although English Protestants were glad to use Acosta to answer
Catholic claims, many Protestants had never really considered miracles a necessary sign of the true church in the first place. Although no
one denied that Jesus and the apostles had performed miracles, many
were unconvinced that such feats needed be duplicated in every age,
and Reformed ministers increasingly returned to the subject to
combat the persistent popularity of miracles in English lay piety.
Although most educated Reformed opinion affirmed that miracles
had ceased after the Apostolic Age, Patricia Shaw has shown that on a
popular level, the actual practice of miraculous healing continued
well into the seventeenth century, especially among Baptists.55 Thus,
Acosta’s admission not only entered into the dialogue between
Protestants and Catholics but also into an internal dialogue in the
English church that sharpened Reformed opinion against the necessity of miracles in general, especially since the false claims of miracles
on ‘“superstitious” Indians resonated so perfectly with Protestant conceptions of “superstitious” Catholic lay piety.56
Thus, the equation between Catholic miracle stories and Indian
credulity often occurred in more wide-ranging indictments against
miracles in general, directed as much to pious English ears as to the
controversial pamphlet wars raging across confessional lines. Andrew
Willet perhaps made the connection most explicitly.57 Willet not only
denied the necessity of miracles in true Christianity but also argued
just the opposite: Catholicism’s association with miracles made it
seem more pagan. Thus, he wrote “wee thinke it not strange, that
Poperie so aboundeth with miracles, the Pagan Idolaters shall vie with
them at this stake, and the best cards take all.” 58 In simple language,
it was no coincidence that only Catholics and pagans believed in mir55
See Jane Shaw, Miracles in Enlightenment England (New Haven, 2006), pp.
21–50.
56
For examples of this, see Patricia Shaw Fairman, España vista por los Ingleses del
Siglo XVII (Madrid, 1981), pp. 285–87.
57
Andrew Willet, An antilogie or counterplea to An apologicall (he should haue
said) apologeticall epistle published by a fauorite of the Romane separation
(London, 1603); EEBO (December 2, 2006), p. 80.
58
Willet, Antilogue, pp. 82–85.

BY GREGORY MURRY

43

acles. Or, in the words of the Catholic abjurer Thomas Abernethie,
Jesuits went “to Mexico and Peru . . . but not so to . . . England and
Holland,” because they were interested in money, not souls, and they
needed a “good fat Subject” to ply their trade upon.59 Donne added in
a sermon,“we remember [Catholics] of their own authors, who do not
onely say, that themselves do no miracles, in these latter times, but
assigne diligently strong reasons, why it is that they doe none.”60
Finally, Edward Stillingfleet picked up Acosta’s argument in the context of a more wide-ranging attack against miracles by arguing:
Of all cases we might most reasonably suppose that God should, if ever,
renew this gift in the conversion of Infidels; and yet . . . Josephus Acosta at
large debates this case, why God doth not now give the power of miracles among those who preach to Infidels as he did of old? and he offers
at several reasons for it, of which this is the chief, That miracles were necessary in the beginning of Christian Religion, but not now. And if the
Church be defective in the power of miracles where it is the most necessary, what reasonable ground can there be to think that God should imploy
his power not for the satisfaction of Infidels, but of the credulous and
superstitious? As God never works miracles to convince obstinate Atheists,
so neither doth he to gratifie the curiosity of old Women.61

Thus, Acosta’s arguments were not only used to buttress the English
church against the miracle claims of the Catholics but also to speak to
an internal audience. Moreover, the whole discourse served to allow
Protestants to place Catholic miracles safely in the realm of the superstitious and irrational, a realm in which Catholics unwittingly found
themselves the bedfellows of similarly “irrational” Indians and old
women. Indeed, Acosta’s admissions were not only embarrassing for
the English Jesuits, but they also provided grist for a characterization
of Catholics as primitive.
“God’s Flesh with Fangs to Tear”: Eucharistic Cannibalism
Idolatries and superstitions were not the only associations that
Protestants drew between Catholics and Indians. Perhaps more novel
was the increasing frequency of the association between Indian can59

Thomas Abernethie, Abjuration of Poperie (Edinburgh, 1638), p. 36.
John Donne, Fifty Sermons (London, 1649), p. 113. Donne was referring explicitly
to Acosta here.
61
Edward Stillingfleet, A second discourse in vindication of the Protestant
grounds of faith (London, 1663), pp. 613–14, emphasis in original.
60

44

“TEARS OF THE INDIANS” OR SUPERFICIAL CONVERSION?

nibalism and Catholic Eucharist.The idea of man-eating had not been
unknown before the discovery of the West Indies. In fact, reports of
cannibalism were at least as old as the discipline of history itself;
Herodotus had been the first to write about man-eating tribes, which
he called the androphagi—a savage people who putatively lived
north of the wild Scythians.62 However, it seems clear that interest in
man-eaters was piqued by reports coming from the West Indies, for it
was in 1552 that English writers first adopted the Greek word
anthropophagi into the English language.63 In 1553, the term cannibal, a corruption of the name for the Caribe Indian, entered the vernacular through the medium of Sebastian Munster and Pietro Martire
Anghiera’s descriptions of the voyages of discovery.64 Thereafter, the
usage of both terms became relatively common.
From the point of view of Protestant controversialists, this was a
new and fruitful addition to the lexicon of antipopery since its introduction into the English language and imagination coincided perfectly with the ongoing debates over transubstantiation.65 Indeed,
early English references to Eucharistic cannibalism almost always
drew on information about Caribbean and Indian man-eaters.As early
as 1580, Foxe’s The Pope Confuted had already made the association,
arguing “doest thou cruell Caniball [Roman Catholic] conceive and
eate nought else but the fleshe of Christe?”66 Foxe was quickly
echoed in 1581 by Thomas Lupton, who argued:
If the Canibals are to be abhorred, bicause they devour and eate mans
flesh, their enimies whome they take in the warres: are not you then much

62
Herodotus, The Histories, trans. Aubrey de Sélincourt and revised with introductory matter and notes by John Marincola (London, 1996), p. 223.
63
Oxford English Dictionary Online, s.v. “Anthropophagi,” http://dictionary.oed
.com (December 7, 2006).
64
Oxford English Dictionary Online, s.v. “Cannibal,” http://dictionary.oed.com
(December 7, 2006).
65
The English Protestants were not the first to make this claim. Zwingli himself had
made the charge early on with reference to the Anthropophagi. See Merrall Llewelyn
Price, Consuming Passions: The Uses of Cannibalism in Late Medieval and Early
Modern Europe (New York, 2003). However, English writers did not pick up on this
rhetoric until they read reports from the Indies, and then they normally used the trope
with specific reference to Indians. Since medieval ideas of cannibalism usually were
linked to the blood libel, this difference between English and continental reformers can
probably be explained by the relative absence of Jews in England.
66
John Foxe, The Pope Confuted, trans. from the Latin by James Bell (London, 1580);
EEBO (December 6, 2006), p. 76v.

BY GREGORY MURRY

45

more to be detested, that are not ashamed to eate and deuoure with your
mouthes and teeth the very bodie of Christ?67

Obviously, neither of these Reformed theologians was actually charging Catholics with real cannibalism; rather, the charge struck at the
doctrine of transubstantiation itself, further tainted in English eyes by
its association with idolatry and the wild savages of distant lands.
That such charges came relatively early is not surprising since the
association was an obvious one and could hardly be missed by
Reformed theologians.
In the seventeenth century English Protestants became increasingly inclined to pair cannibalism and Eucharist in their disputations.
For instance, in 1609, the minister Henoch Clapham insisted that
Catholic Eucharist “should be a Christians shame, to seeke vnion with
Christ in such a Caniball manner.”68 Francis Mason argued:
If your Priests eate Christ properly with their bodie, then are you not men,
but monsters of mankinde. For is not this to make the Priest a Cyclops, or
a Caniball, or rather worse than a Caniball? For a Caniball deuours the flesh
onely of a meere man, but this is to deuoure and consume the flesh and
blood of the Sonne of God.69

In 1624, George Goodwin let the argument flow far more poetically
off of his pen:
With Murther, stain’d is this Christ-killing Hoste:
Whilst hee [the bishop] God’s Flesh with’s Fangs to teare doth boaste.
Indeed, besides this Popish Caniball.
Of Men, not God-devourers, read wee shall.70

It is interesting to see here that new arguments pairing Catholics and
cannibals did not replace the old ones; Protestants continued to find
ways to work in charges of greed and cruelty.

67
Thomas Lupton, A Persuasion from Papistrie (London, 1581); EEBO (March 2,
2010), p. 235.
68
Henoch Clapham, A Chronological Discourse (London, 1609); EEBO (March 3,
2010), p. 27.
69
Francis Mason, Of the Consecration of Bishops (London, 1613); EEBO (March 3,
2010), p. 238.
70
George Goodwin, Babel’s Balm (London, 1624); EEBO (December 6, 2006), p. 65.
Emphasis in original.

46

“TEARS OF THE INDIANS” OR SUPERFICIAL CONVERSION?

When Catholics countered by claiming that transubstantiated
Eucharist was nothing like cannibalism because the body and blood
were consumed, in Aristotelian language, under the species (appearance) of bread and wine, Daniel Featley returned to the West Indian
example to find an answer, and demonstrating a marked lack of understanding of Aristotelian metaphysics, he wrote:
What though a mans body in some fight were so mangled, and battered,
that it had lost all humane shape, would you warrant an Indian to eate this
mans flesh, or excuse him from an horrible crime if he should eate it,
because it was not in propriâ specie?71

However, Featley’s work did not, as promised, lay the issue entirely to
rest, and the bitter argument continued to drag on into the century. In
1668 Henry More utilized cannibalism and transubstantiation to show
Catholics that they were much more barbarous than the Indians they
sought to convert.
Was there ever any Indian so imposed upon by their Priests, as to believe
they had a power by a certain form of words to turn a Cake of Maize into
a living Man, and that the Miracle is done by them, though the Cake of
Maize appear still to their Sight, to their Touch, and all their other Senses,
as perfect a Cake of Maize as before? And how can these look upon the
Indians as such a barbarous people, for either feeding on their Enemies,
or burying their dead Friends in their own Bowells, whenas they themselves profess that they eat and grind a-pieces with their teeth, not dead,
but living Man’s-flesh, and that not of an Enemie, but their dearest Friend
and Saviour? Can any thing seem more barbarous then this?72

It is plain to see that the association between Eucharist and cannibalism
was a fruitful and welcome conceptual pairing for English Protestants;
indeed, the cannibalism of the newly discovered world worked in
tandem with the Catholic doctrine of Eucharist to promote the view of
the Catholic Spaniard as simultaneously barbarous and gullible.
English Evangelization in North America
Recovering the importance to English thought of later Spanish
sources like Acosta helps resolve another problem with the current
71
Daniel Featley, Transubstantiation Exploded (London, 1638); EEBO (March 3,
2010), p. 84. In propria specia here means something along the lines of “it did not
resemble man’s flesh.”
72
More, Divine Dialogues (London, 1668); EEBO (March 3, 2010), p. 426, emphasis
in original.

BY GREGORY MURRY

47

account of the Black Legend: Why did early English explorers not
share the optimistic view of natives that they had putatively learned
on the pages of Las Casas? Why did they not take to proselytizing with
the same sort of abandon? Many valid reasons can be proposed,
including the differing natures of their colonial endeavors, the differing types of native populations encountered, the differing levels of
crown support, and differing ecclesiology. However, to this list might
be added one additional item: in the English imagination, Acosta’s
more cautious view had already replaced Las Casas’s optimism about
the docile Indian. This is especially likely given that the natives of
North America ostensibly would have been members of Acosta’s third
group—the nonliterate barbarians for whom Acosta reserved his
deepest pessimism. Indeed, Acosta had taught prospective English
Protestant missionaries before they even set out that converting
natives was a long, difficult, and arduous task.
Moreover, if it had been hard for Catholics to preach just another
brand of idolatry to the Indians, so much harder would it be to preach
real gospel-based Christianity. For instance, after many years of trying
to rally support for a mission to the heathens, avid Acosta reader
Richard Baxter characterized Spanish evangelism as the following:
The Roman Jesuits and Fryars, who have greater Stocks of Money, have
been encouraged by Kings, especially of Portugal, to go among some
Heathens with their Ambassadors, or by their help: And to their due praise
be it spoken, in Congo, Japan, China, and some other Countries, they took
great pains, and did much: But most that they did was quickly undone,
partly by the pravity of sensual Heathens, and partly by their depravation
of the Christian Doctrine which they should have Preach’d.They consulting with Carnal Wisdom, durst not tell Men long of Christ’s Crucifixion:
And they did but change their Heathenish Images for Agnus Dei’s, and
Pictures of the Virgin Mary, and other Trinkets like their own; which was
easily received, but made not sound Christians.

Thus after many years of trying, Baxter was heard to lament,“The heathen world is out of our reach.”73 Sustained funding for missionary
projects from England would not occur until the eighteenth century.
Moreover, it seems that some English colonists brought Acosta’s cautious evangelization strategy to their own colonies. Although the Virginia
73

Richard Baxter,“Obedient Patience,”in Practical works (1683; repr. London, 1707);
DLPT (December 7, 2006), p. 842, emphasis in original.

48

“TEARS OF THE INDIANS” OR SUPERFICIAL CONVERSION?

Company was not composed of missionaries in the Catholic sense of the
word, evangelization was a central part of their self-constructed legitimating mythology.The original charter had spelled out just this duty,and
Virginians repeatedly returned to the ideal, at least on the rhetorical
level.74 Nevertheless,evangelization proceeded haltingly for much of the
seventeenth century, delayed by the scattered nature of Virginian settlements and the low level of real interest among the colonists. In contradistinction to the earliest Franciscans in Colonial New Spain, English
missionaries in Virginia never utilized the apostolic method.They were
not inclined to baptize first and instruct later. Indeed, Acosta and other
sources had already taught them that nonliterate Indians needed to be
“civilized” before conversion would stick.Thus, most evangelization proposals involved programs of extensive contact between settlers and
natives, the kind of extensive contact that would prove too great a
burden for the general run of Virginia’s colonists.75
This meant that although conversion was an essential feature of
colonial rhetoric, it effected very few of the tangible results and mass
baptisms so common in the early Spanish experience. In 1610, when
the first Anglo-Powhatan war broke out and the Council of Virginia
felt the need to justify the company’s presence in the New World, it
did so by remarking on its Christian duty to evangelize. Indeed, one
author went so far as to claim that the company’s “primarie end is to
plant religion.”76 However, the author of the tract took a markedly
Acostian view of conversion, arguing for the necessity of daily and
methodical repetition of Christian norms.77 Against the apostolic
model that had been so favored among the earliest Franciscans in
Mexico and Peru, the anonymous author argued thus:
there is no Apostolicall preaching, but where wee may expect eitheir their
conuersion, or our martyrdome . . . the Iesuite Acosta confesseth (notwithstanding Bellarmines relation of Indian miracles) that they haue no tongues,
they haue no signes from heauen, and they can haue no martyrdome, and by
consequent there is no meanes left of Apostolicall preaching.78

74

See Bernard W. Sheehan, Savagism and Civility: Indians and Englishmen in
Colonial Virginia (New York, 1980), pp. 117–22.
75
See Frederic W. Gleach, Powhatan’s World and Colonial Virginia: A Conflict of
Cultures (Lincoln, NE, 2000), pp. 69–72. See also Sheehan, Savagism, pp. 124–27.
76
Counseil for Virginia, A true declaration of the estate of the colonie in Virginia
(London, 1610), p. 6.
77
Counseil for Virginia, A true declaration, p. 10.
78
Counseil for Virginia, A true declaration, pp. 7–8, emphasis in original.

BY GREGORY MURRY

49

Although apostolic preaching could not be done, and force was
seldom licit, the author of this tract found a third way, borrowed from
Acosta’s own resolution to the same problem. Acosta had proffered
mercantile activity as a legitimate means whereby Europeans might
enter native territory and expose its inhabitants to European civilization and Christianity. The author of this tract took Acosta’s argument
as his own, arguing that this was the only legitimate means whereby
Europeans could perform the necessary civilizing groundwork that
must precede conversion.79
A few years later, one petitioner, who had resided in Virginia at
some point, published the pamphlet Virginia’s Cure. Although he primarily aimed to garner support for arranging the Virginia plantations
according to a more urban basis, he supported his view with an eye
to propagating the gospel among the Indians. Again eschewing miracles and martyrdom, the author had recourse to the ingenuous Jesuit
Acosta, claiming that conversion could only be effective by bringing
Indians into daily contact with worthy ministers of the Word.
Although he folded this argument into his own desire that such contact happen in towns, he again rejected the apostolic model of
preaching, opting for Acosta’s strategy of slowly transforming native
society by repetition of Christian norms and by contact with good
Christians. On this account he wrote:
. . . the accute Acosta, after he had spent 17 years in conversing with the
Heathen in that new world (though he was of a Church that pleads much
for Miracles) ingenuously [confessed], that the greatest, and even the only
Miracle necessary to the Conversion of those Heathen, is the gracious lives
of Christians, agreeable to that Christian Faith they professe.80

Thus, Acosta’s work enjoyed an afterlife never intended by its author.
Initially attractive to Protestant Englishmen caught up in the heat of
religious controversy, Acosta’s work became a blueprint for evangelization and a cautionary tale against naive enthusiasm. Because of
this, Englishmen in Virginia would be saddled with a difficult model
of evangelization that would prove to be beyond their means.
Consequently, the English would not enjoy the superficial success in
conversion boasted by early Catholic missionaries.

79
80

Counseil, A true declaration, pp. 9–10;Acosta, de Procuranda, pp. 450–51.
R. G., Virginia’s Cure (London, 1662), pp. 12–13, emphasis in original.

50

“TEARS OF THE INDIANS” OR SUPERFICIAL CONVERSION?

Conclusion
Although Acosta’s Indian never entirely displaced Las Casas’s
Indian in the English imagination, some Protestant writers did drop
the idea that Spanish greed had ruined Spanish evangelization and
instead seized upon the image of the superstitious Indian converted
to superstitous Catholicism. This pairing helped Reformed theologians to solve one of their most pressing dilemmas: how to maintain
Rome as a church with valid baptism while decrying it as antichrist.81
Indeed, Rome’s errors were not the only things that disturbed
Protestants; the points of congruity between the Roman and English
church could be just as thorny a dilemma.Therefore, although Rome
was rhetorically decried as anti-Christ,“it was particularly rare to find
direct denials that Rome was in any sense a Church.”82 Solving this
paradox was not easy. Casting Catholicism as primitive was one solution to the paradox, as English controversialists could keep
Catholicism as a valid religion, but safely at arm’s length.
This conclusion has broader implications in the context of the
New World’s importance in the intellectual formation of the Old
World. Scholars have long debated whether the discovery of America
provoked a revolution in European thought, or whether Europeans
utilized old categories to assimilate information coming from the New
World. Following J. H. Elliot’s work, many historians now seem to favor
the latter option,83 and no doubt there is much truth to this. How else
can one characterize the attempts to view the Indians as some ilk of
Old World peoples, whether that be the lost tribes of Israel or descendants of the Celtic captain Madoc? This also is almost certainly true of
Acosta and other thinkers’ obsessive attempts to link the new civilizations to the pagans of antiquity.84 However, this study points to
another dynamic—it seems that the discovery of the New World
helped Protestants to conceive the familiar religion of Catholicism as
unfamiliar and exotic. Although charges of idolatry and superstition
81

Milton, Catholic and Reformed, pp. 128–72.
Milton, Catholic and Reformed, p. 133.
83
Karen Kupperman, Introduction, America in European Consciousness:
1493–1754, ed. Karen Kupperman (Chapel Hill, 1999), pp. 1–29. See also Michael T.
Ryan, “Assimilating New Worlds in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries,”
Comparative Studies in Society and History, 23 (1981), 519–38.
84
See Sabine MacCormack, “Limits of Understanding: Perceptions of Greco-Roman
and Amerindian Paganisms in Early Modern Europe,” in America in European
Consciousness: 1493–1752, ed. Karen Kupperman (Chapel Hill, 1997), pp. 79–129.
82

BY GREGORY MURRY

51

were not new at the end of the sixteenth century, exactly where this
placed Catholicism on the scale of civilization was unclear. The discovery of the New World helped to clarify it. After reading accounts
such as Acosta’s, English Protestants began to see Catholicism as very
much like Indian religion—wild, superstitious, silly, and cannibalistic.
In this case, then, the discovery of the New World did help to reinterpret the old, not in a revolutionary way, but by helping to turn the
familiar into the unfamiliar.

A “TRAITEROUS RELIGION”: INDULGENCES
AND THE ANTI-CATHOLIC IMAGINATION
IN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY NEW ENGLAND
BY

MICHAEL S. CARTER*

Anti-Catholicism, or antipopery, was one of the broadest and deepest cultural biases in the early-modern English-speaking world.
Eighteenth-century New England, in particular, evinced a strong
concern with and opposition to imagined Catholic teaching regarding indulgences, believed by many Protestants of the period to
mean license to commit sin in advance. This perception informed
many aspects of anti-Catholic legislation, history, and literature
prior to the American Revolution. These perceptions, inseparable
from emerging tropes of the Protestant Reformation as they developed in early-modern England, also provide a key to understanding Protestant apprehensions and fears about unrestricted Catholic
religious practice and participation in civic life during the colonial
period and into the early republic.
Keywords: Anti-Catholicism; indulgences; popery; print culture
The religious milieu of the early-modern British Atlantic world was
more notable for its ever-shifting complexity and divisiveness than
anything else.However,one issue—opposition to Roman Catholicism—
united the vast majority of the era’s English-speaking Protestants.After
King Henry VIII’s break with Rome in the 1530s, anti-Catholicism, or
•Dr. Carter is an associate professor in the Department of History at the University
of Dayton, email mcarter1@udayton.edu. Draft versions of this article were presented
at the McNeil Center for Early American Studies, University of Pennsylvania, and at the
invited conference “Anti-Catholicism in a Comparative and Trans-National Perspective,
1750–2000.” in Farfa, Italy. Research for this article was supported in part by the Forum
on the Catholic Intellectual Tradition Today at the University of Dayton. The author
wishes to thank three anonymous reviewers; Nelson H. Minnich, Elizabeth Foxwell, and
the staff of The Catholic Historical Review; Yvonne-Maria Werner; Daniel K. Richter;
Martin J. Burke; Una M. Cadegan; Candy Gunther Brown; Gerald Fogarty, S.J.; and the staff
of the British Library for their assistance.

52

BY MICHAEL S. CARTER

53

“antipopery,” became the single banner under which English
Protestants could rally.1 For these Protestants, Catholicism was not
even a religion at all, but a form of spiritual and intellectual “slavery”
that was the antithesis of their free, rational, and pure religion.
Enlisted consistently over a long period often for quite different reasons, antipopery was expressed in an astonishingly diverse array of
venues, from political, legal, historical, and theological publications to
sermons, street performances, popular festivals, and even everyday
material objects. Recent scholarship has emphasized that although
antipopery was a form of bigotry and prejudice (interestingly, these
very nouns were used as synonyms for Catholicism), it possessed an
interior logic of its own.This logic was expressed through a rhetoric
of antipopery that was, for early-modern Britons and their colonial
American compatriots, a coherent “vocabulary,” as Francis Cogliano
has argued, which gave meaning to the world in which they lived.2

1

The term antipopery is useful and more apt as it indicates that the anti-Catholicism
of the early-modern English-speaking world rarely had anything to do with actual
Roman Catholics or with Catholicism itself. Rather, it was an opposition to imagined
Catholic beliefs, practices, and political realities that developed a life of its own, as
England and its possessions became ever more distant from its own medieval past. In
the past several years, antipopery has been receiving the scholarly attention it deserves
as scholars begin to more fully appreciate the subtlety of period anti-Catholic rhetoric.
In September 2008, for example, the McNeil Center for Early American Studies at the
University of Pennsylvania sponsored the three-day conference “Anti-Popery: The
Transatlantic Experience, c. 1530–1850.”
2
Cogliano, writing about eighteenth-century New Englanders, argues that Englishspeaking Protestants of this period “were Protestants in the most fundamental sense.
They were opposed to the Roman Catholic Church. Whatever their other theological,
intellectual, political, or social differences, almost all New Englanders agreed on this
point. For New Englanders, antipopery provided a vocabulary of good and evil which
they used to define their enemies and themselves and to order their world.This vocabulary found expression in learned treatises, sermons, the law, and in the streets during
popular demonstrations and celebrations. The vocabulary of antipopery helped New
Englanders define the parameters of what was acceptable and unacceptable in their
society.” See Francis Cogliano, No King, No Popery: Anti-Catholicism in Revolutionary
New England (Westport, CT, 1995), p. 2. Other recent scholarship on early-modern
British and American antipopery includes Jason K. Duncan, Citizens or Papists? The
Politics of Anti-Catholicism in New York, 1685–1821 (New York, 2005); Raymond D.
Tumbleson, Catholicism in the English Protestant Imagination: Nationalism,
Religion, and Literature, 1660–1745 (New York, 1998); Clare Haynes, Pictures and
Popery:Art and Religion in England, 1660–1760 (Hampshire, UK, 2006); Linda Colley,
Britons: Forging the Nation, 1707–1837 (New Haven, 1992); Colin Haydon, AntiCatholicism in Eighteenth-Century England, c. 1714–80: A Political and Social Study
(Manchester, UK, 1993); John Miller, Popery and Politics in England, 1660–1688
(Cambridge, 1973); and Charles Metzger, The Quebec Act (New York, 1936).

54

INDULGENCES AND THE ANTI-CATHOLIC IMAGINATION

However, the fears and anxieties behind much British antipopish
ideology have yet to be adequately explored and its language properly
deconstructed, especially in its colonial American context. As
Cogliano and others have rightly implied, cultural constructs such as
antipopery cannot be dismissed due to a perceived lack of serious ideological content simply because they were prejudicial or bore little
connection to reality in terms of the fears they expressed.With this in
view, this article explores a range of anti-Catholic sermons, religious
tracts, fiction, histories, and political polemics, especially as they
invoke one of the most prominent concepts in the rhetoric of earlymodern antipopery: Catholic belief in the doctrine of indulgences,
which was intertwined with the idea that Catholics, in the phrase of
the day, did not “keep faith with heretics.” It is argued in this article
that this idea and its role in early-modern British publications were
deeply rooted in the collective English Protestant imagination’s perception of Catholic belief and practice, inseparable from emerging
historical tropes of the Protestant Reformation as they developed in
the early-modern British Atlantic World, particularly in New England,
which is the main focus of this study. In addition, the article also seeks
to offer a more precise lens through which to make sense of the
Protestant majority’s fears about indulgences and Catholicism during
the eighteenth century—especially in places further removed from
the imperial center in London such as New England, where antipopery was an essential part of the cultural fabric since its Puritan and
Separatist beginnings. Although screeds against indulgences were
common in anti-Catholic literature along with warnings about the
“delusions and dangers” regarding popish “priestcraft” (such as confession, relics, Eucharistic devotion, and holy water), fears about indulgences occupy a particularly significant place. As expressed in The
Pope’s Cabinet Unlocked (1680) by John Sidway (who claimed to
have uncovered the Titus Oates-fabricated “popish plot” against King
Charles II),“wouldest thou know wherefore [Catholics] invocate and
adore Saints, the Host, the Crucifix, Holy Relicks and Images, ’tis
because of indulgences.”3 The Protestant hostility to indulgences
3
John Sidway, The Pope’s Cabinet Unlocked; or, a Catalogue of all the Popes
Indulgences Belonging to the Order of S. Mary, Together with a List of all the
Indulgences daily, yearly, and for ever, to be had at Rome, St. James of Galatia in
Compostella, Jerusalem, and all places in the Holy Land (London, 1680), preface. In
this work, Sidway adds an appendix,“in which the grounds and foundation of the said
Indulgences being examined, are utterly overthrown, and by consequence Indulgences
themselves apparently proved to be meer [sic] Cheats: And also shewing that the
Church of Rome doth lay the chief basis of their Religion on Indulgences.” Interestingly,

BY MICHAEL S. CARTER

55

came to encompass all the other practices perceived as the fruits of
popish priestcraft. At its heart lay fear of the pope’s power over the
consciences and loyalties of men.The position of John Locke, a major
figure in the last years of the Catholic James II and a key player in
both the formation of the Whigs and the Glorious Revolution, perfectly expressed this fear. As John Marshall has written, for Locke and
his fellow Whigs,
[p]apal claims of infallibility, the power to dispense with oaths, and promise of eternal reward for those who “did not keep faith with heretics”
meant that Roman Catholics could not be tolerated. This early political
opposition to toleration for Catholics because they did not need to keep
faith with heretics was to be extremely important and to persist throughout Locke’s life.4

The pope’s power to grant indulgences, seen by Protestants as a claim
to dispensation over the entire moral law, raised the specter of priestcraft and its perceived dangers from mere superstition and backwardness to a terrifying “arbitrary” tyranny that would, if allowed to
infiltrate the monarchy or other positions of power, destroy all British
liberties and even true Christianity itself. Given that the religious and
political identity of the Puritans, the largest population in British
America, sprang from a rejection of the dominant vision of church
and state in England (itself a rejection of the English Catholic past that
the Puritans believed had not gone nearly far enough), these fears preoccupied the colonial American mind with an especial intensity.
What did antipopish literature say about indulgences? Why were
these seen as so threatening, and what did this mean for debates
about Catholic fitness not only for positions of authority but also for
subjecthood? What were its implications near the end of the colonial
period for citizenship in an independent American republic that still
professed to celebrate cherished British concepts of liberty and individual rights?
***

the work is dedicated to the earl of Shaftsbury (Anthony Ashley Cooper),a founder of
Whiggism whose private secretary during this period was John Locke. John Marshall
has written about Locke’s concern that Catholics did not “keep faith with heretics.”
4
John Marshall, John Locke: Resistance, Religion and Responsibility (New York,
1994), p. 7.

56

INDULGENCES AND THE ANTI-CATHOLIC IMAGINATION

Historian Peter Marshall has suggested that an excellent case could
be made for the English Protestant Reformation ending as late as the
Glorious Revolution.5 Indeed, studies of the emergence of the Whig
party, like those by Peter Lake and Mark Goldie, have characterized
the invocation of traditional antipopish tropes of the Reformation era
as politically expedient during the late 1670s and 1680s, when
Parliament was at odds with the Stuarts.As Lake has argued in a masterful essay on the late Stuart era, “to many, if not most, educated
Protestant English people” of the seventeenth century,“popery was an
anti-religion, a perfectly symmetrical negative image of true
Christianity.”This negative image provided an ideal foil for a positive
English identity that offered the hope of binding the nation amid the
nearly constant turmoil of the period’s political and religious conflicts.6 Given the Irish rebellion of 1641, Parliament’s struggles with
Charles I, the Civil War and Interregnum, the controversy over James
II’s conversion to Catholicism, war with France and Spain, and other
domestic conflicts involving religion and government, seventeenthcentury antipopery in England has received much more attention
than such activities in the eighteenth century. However, as Linda
Colley has made clear, antipopery was no less central to British identity in the eighteenth century, especially after the Act of Union in
1707, when the challenges of empire made cultural unity increasingly
important.7 The two major attempts by Stuart Pretenders to capture
the British throne also were pivotal, given the Stuarts’ Catholic affiliation as well as the influence of historical polemics describing in lurid,
gruesome detail the storied persecutions of an earlier time in which
England had switched from a Protestant to a Catholic monarch—the
reign of “Bloody Mary”Tudor (1553–58).8 Still less understood is the
5
Peter Marshall,“(Re)defining the English Reformation,” Journal of British Studies,
48 (2009), 564–86, here 568. Although the Act of Settlement of 1701 barred the future
possibility of a Roman Catholic monarch, the attempted Jacobite invasions of the eighteenth century underscored that the religious politics of succession could easily far outside the control of legislative acts.
6
Peter Lake,“Anti-Popery: The Structure of a Prejudice,” in Conflict in Early Stuart
England: Studies in Religion and Politics, 1603–1642, ed. Richard Cust and Ann
Hughes (New York, 1989), pp. 72–106, here p. 75.
7
Linda Colley, Britons: Forging the Nation, 1707–1837 (New Haven, 1992).
8
This was due in no small part to the influence of the Book of Martyrs by John
Foxe, first published in 1563 and one of the best-selling works of the period.This book
encouraged the widespread belief among English Protestants that their Catholic countrymen were bent on returning England to the Catholic fold, even if that meant resorting to treason—including regicide. Invoking the brief reign of Mary I, such works purported that should any Catholic ever hold the throne, he or she would immediately

BY MICHAEL S. CARTER

57

way antipopery was expressed in the North American colonies during
the eighteenth century. The sources cited in this article, however,
make clear that fears of the practical political threat of popery at
home continued to be taken very seriously by writers and readers on
both sides of the British Atlantic throughout the eighteenth century.
This article will examine the place of perceptions of the Catholic
belief in indulgences in the general context of the eighteenth-century
English-speaking world, particularly focusing on colonial-era publications that appeared in New England and considering especially their
reflections of the period’s shifting political concerns.
***
Goldie’s work on the religious and political context of the birth of
Whiggism in the late-seventeenth century ably demonstrates the
importance of antipopery in shaping political factions and discourse.
The word priestcraft, which he argues was coined in 1657, emerged
in the context of arguments among English Protestants about the
rights of the state and the laity to claim some influence upon the
Church of England’s governance. During the Restoration era, many
argued that a church governed by clergy alone without state intervention was a sign of degeneracy and that the Anglican church was in
danger of slipping into much the same condition of “corruption” into
which, according to the prevailing Protestant view, Catholicism had
deteriorated from the fourth century to the Reformation era. Goldie
notes that the word priestcraft and books containing this word in
their titles had their heyday around the time of the Exclusion Crisis
and became commonplace by the 1690s . For period writers, Goldie
argues, “the essence of the Whig struggle was to prevent English
churchmen building a Protestant popery.” Indeed, “[p]riestcraft was
popery universalised.”9
Likewise, as Lake has argued, antipopery needs to be taken seriously as an ideology so that seventeenth-century English political history can be properly understood on its own terms. Lake identifies the
main elements of the “structure” of the prejudice of antipopery, find-

commence a relentless and violent persecution of Protestants. Eamon Duffy has
provocatively and persuasively argued for a revised view of Mary’s reign in Fires of
Faith: Catholic England under Mary Tudor (New Haven, 2009).
9
Mark Goldie,“Priestcraft and the Birth of Whiggism,” in Political Discourse in Early
Modern Britain, ed. Nicholas Phillipson and Quentin Skinner (Cambridge, UK, 1993),
pp. 209–31, here pp. 216–19.

58

INDULGENCES AND THE ANTI-CATHOLIC IMAGINATION

ing disdain for “priestcraft” prominent among them. English
Protestants believed that “popery, through magic, symbols, false miracles and seeming common sense, appealed to the lower, carnal and
corrupt side of human nature,” whereas their religion sought to raise
humanity to the superior realm of word and spirit—and of rationality,
enlightenment, and liberty.10 For Lake, the perceived futility of popish
priestcraft and its incapacity for genuine and effective spiritual nourishment were seen as its primary danger to individuals. In the colonial
American context, Mary Augustina Ray remains one of the few scholars to connect anti-Catholic thought, indulgences, and Protestant perceptions of the Church’s claim to authority over the moral law.
Proponents of antipopery, she writes, believed that “not only were the
grossest vices practiced with impunity” within Catholicism but also
the Church’s traffic in dispensations and indulgences offered positive
encouragement to a vicious life . . . so numerous were their opportunities
for spreading vice under the cloak of religion, that their presence in a community might be likened to a hidden cancer secretly spreading its virus
through the entire social organism.11

Fears of Catholic doctrine’s corrosive influence on the moral order by
no means disappeared with the American Revolution, which ostensibly celebrated individual liberties, including religious ones. In the
early U.S. republic, even after the enactment of the Constitution and
adoption of its Bill of Rights in the early 1790s, personal religious affiliation still affected the ability of citizens to participate fully in civil
affairs. Seven of the fourteen state constitutions ratified between the
American Revolution and the signing of the U.S. Constitution barred
Catholics from holding state office of any kind.12 In several states,
such restrictions remained in effect well into the nineteenth century.
10
Lake, “Anti-Popery,” pp. 76–77. For a related exploration of a concept that Lake
invokes in connection with the dichotomy between Protestant “light” and popish “darkness,” see Rolf Reichardt and Deborah Louise Cohen,“Light against Darkness:The Visual
Representations of a Central Enlightenment Concept,” Representations, no. 61 (1998),
95–148.
11
Mary Augustina Ray, American Opinion of Roman Catholicism in the Eighteenth
Century. New York, 1936), p. 14. Philip Hamburger has also more recently written that
Protestants of the eighteenth century associated reason with “the purity of their own
faith,” condemning popery as unfree, irrational, superstitious, and “a worship of things
human, in response to terrors knowingly imposed by force and mental stultification
rather than a free, rational, and pure faith.”Philip Hamburger, Separation of Church and
State (Cambridge, MA, 2002), pp. 204–05.
12
David Sehat, The Myth of American Religious Freedom (New York, 2011), p. 29.

BY MICHAEL S. CARTER

59

Although the enactment of federal and state constitutions represented a measure of improvement for the situation of American
Catholics and their religious liberties, it also demonstrated the persistence of antipopery beyond the colonial period.
It is important to note that indulgences were believed, within the
lexicon of antipopery, to include license to commit sin given in
advance, as well as reduction or removal of the supernaturallyimposed temporal punishment due for sins already committed and
sacramentally absolved through confession to a priest. As explained
by opponents of Catholicism, the Church thereby granted its members freedom to commit sin without penalty—even adultery, murder,
and regicide. Indeed, according to anti-Catholic polemicists, the
Catholic hierarchy arbitrarily could declare when a sin was not a sin,
as long as the proper “indulgence” had been procured. Without a
Catholic voice in period culture to offer an opposing view or counterargument that reflected the Church’s authentic teaching, such
notions spread, fueling attacks on Catholic belief and practice as well
as offering powerful justification for the retention of penal laws well
into the nineteenth century.Whereas the origins of English Protestant
preoccupations with the issue of indulgences dates to the sixteenth
century and Henry VIII’s break with Rome, a close look at antiCatholic literature between the late-seventeenth and eighteenth centuries suggest that the appearances of such arguments in print ebbed
and flowed with other political concerns relating to the rise and fall
of the Stuart monarchs, their attempts to recapture the throne, the
extension of religious tolerance to Quebec in the 1770s (see figure 1),
and other events that raised the specter of popery.
The Doctrine of Indulgences
Obtaining a full picture of the English Protestant opposition to
imagined Catholic teaching regarding indulgences requires some discussion of the actual Catholic understanding of the concept. Much
developed during the Middle Ages, the teaching was articulated more
clearly by the Council of Trent (1545–63), a watershed event that
defined doctrines and sought to address many issues raised by reformminded figures inside and outside the Catholic fold. From the sixteenth century onward, Catholics and Protestants found the Council’s
rulings equally useful as they printed material related to theological
controversies.Trent’s decrees often were cited in Protestant rebuttals
of Catholic theology that circulated in England and America during

60

INDULGENCES AND THE ANTI-CATHOLIC IMAGINATION

FIGURE 1. “The Mitred Minuet,” London Magazine, May 1774. Catholic
bishops, center, are depicted as dancing around the Quebec Act granting
religious tolerance to French Canadians. At left are John Stuart, earl of
Bute (playing bagpipes), and the hatless Frederick, Lord North, the British
prime minister. The devil hovers in the background. Library of Congress,
Prints and Photographs Division, reproduction no. LC-USZ62-45376.

the late-seventeenth and early-eighteenth centuries.The Catechism of
the Council of Trent declares that as
St. Bernard affirms . . . in sin are found two things, the stain and the scar;
that the defilement itself is indeed removed through the mercy of God,
whilst to heal the scars of sins the medicinal care applied by penance is
most necessary; for as after a wound has been healed, some scars remain,
which also themselves require care; so with regard to the soul, after the
guilt is forgiven, it leaves remains to be cleansed away.13

An indulgence, then, was a way of making satisfaction before God for
sins already freely forgiven through his mercy by ordinary sacramental confession to a priest.The Catholic Church traditionally cited the
words of Christ to St. Peter in the gospel to explain its authority to
grant indulgences:“I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven.
Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever
you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.”14
13

(J. Donovan, translator), Catechism of the Council of Trent (London, 2006), p. 284.
See Matthew 16:13–19. New Testament of the New American Bible, rev. ed. (New
York, 1986), pp. 52–53.
14

BY BY MICHAEL S. CARTER

61

Theological controversies relating to indulgences date from the
earliest days of the Reformation and can be found in both internal
Catholic criticisms of excesses and abuses, as well as in the familiar
and influential objections of John Calvin and Martin Luther to aspects
of their application. Luther’s famous ninety-five theses of 1517 did not
find fault with the theological concept of purgatory or with the ideas
of merit, or even penance as prescribed by priests, but protested
against the granting of indulgences in connection with monetary
donations. This practice, for example, had occurred during the
rebuilding of Constantine’s ancient basilica of St. Peter in Rome, a
project that languished for decades because of a shortage of funds.15
English Protestant historical tropes of the eighteenth century celebrated the virtues of the printing press that had placed books into the
hands of the people and thus liberated them from the “shackles” of
popish superstition, yet it was the printing press that had helped
spread enthusiasm for indulgences. It enabled an unprecedented distribution of exaggerated or even spurious decrees of indulgence that
were never issued by any pope or other legitimate ecclesiastical
authority. In addition, the press made private devotional reading, by
which indulgences could be gained,more widely available and less
expensive, thus offering indulgences to greater numbers of the
Catholic faithful.16
***
In the British Atlantic region, most early-modern antipopery literature was printed first in London, then reprinted in Ireland and the
American colonies (the latter usually in New England). The prolific
Presbyterian minister John Flavel wrote one of the earliest and most
colorful discussions of indulgences. Tydings from Rome: or, England’s
15
Diarmaid MacCulloch, The Reformation: A History (New York, 2003), p. 124. See
also Reinhold Kiermayr,“How Much Money Was Actually in the Indulgence Chest?” The
Sixteenth Century Journal, 17 (1986), 303–18.
16
See Eamon Duffy, The Stripping of the Altars: Traditional Religion in England,
1400–1580 (New Haven, 2005), pp. 289–90. According to Duffy, “the proliferation of
indulgenced devotions in successive editions of the Horae is readily understandable.
The indulgences were prominently advertised on the title-pages or colophons of Sarum
primers, and clearly constituted one of their principal selling points. Equipped with his
or her primer and an hour or two to spare for pious browsing, the devout lay person
could clock up an impressive tally of days of pardon. But it would be a mistake to see
this as a merely mechanical process: the indulgences were not intended as an incentive
to mindless parroting of the maximum number of prayers. They could not be gained
without inner devotion.”

62

INDULGENCES AND THE ANTI-CATHOLIC IMAGINATION

alarm (London, 1667) was reprinted in 1668 in Cambridge,
Massachusetts, by Samuel Green, who also produced Puritan minister
John Eliot’s famous 1663 Algonquin Bible.This work is notable for several reasons. First, it associates indulgences proclaimed by the pope
with the idea of advance permission to commit sin—the first appearance of this idea in printed form in America. Second, four ministers
oversaw the entire production of Cambridge’s printing presses, authorized by a 1662 decree of the Massachusetts General Court. Given that
only thirteen publications were produced in New England in 1668—
including Flavel’s work—and that the Puritan ministry of Boston exercised tight rein over the output of its printers, the subject matter of
Tydings from Rome takes on additional significance.17
Third, Tydings from Rome expresses the fear of Jesuit conspiracy
by citing the anti-Jesuit polemicist and reformed theologian Rudolf
Hospinian (1515–75), who claims to describe the process by which
Jesuits were believed to commit assassination. The author’s descriptions invoke the belief that indulgences could be obtained via political assassination—presumably only of Protestant monarchs, to make
way for Catholic successors—as well as excuse such an act. Flavel
relates Hospinian’s description of a purported secret Jesuit ritual for
preparing one of their own to commit assassination, writing that the
Jesuits
animate him, whom they employ for the murdering of Kings; they bring
him into a Chappel, where the Knife lies wrapt upon a Cloath with agnus
Dei engraven upon it; then they open the Knife and sprinkle it with Holy
Water, fastning [sic] to the Haft some consecrated Beads, so many Souls he
saves out of Purgatory.

This passage unmistakably associates indulgences with other aspects
of priestcraft: holy water, rosary beads, ritual acts, and use of Latininscribed altar cloths. After relating the formula of the prayer that
Jesuits are supposed to use upon commissioning the assassin, Flavel
argues that
[t]hese, and all other lusts are indulged, even by the Doctrines and
Principles of Papists; for, if venial sins do not render a man unworthy of the
love of God, [but] are but trifles, toyes, gnats, as [Jesuit Cardinal Robert]
Bellarmine calls them,
17

David D. Hall, Worlds of Wonder, Days of Judgment: Popular Religious Belief in
Early New England (Cambridge, MA, 1989), p. 47.

BY MICHAEL S. CARTER

63

then Catholics are exempt from observing the moral law that binds all
other Christians. Flavel further notes:
If the Pope can get g[r]eat Indulgencies, of which he hath so many kinds,
Indulgencies for certain dayes, or years, some partial, some plenary; for all
sins . . .What should hinder, but that they should take the bit in the mouth
and rush into all wickedness, as the Horse into the battle?

After all, in Flavin’s opinion, Catholics are free to “rush into sin, upon
the hope of such Indulgencies,” since they “may be nevertheless
absolved.”18
Historians of Restoration antipopery have situated works such as
Flavin’s in the context of fears about absolutism and popish influence
in the court of Charles II, but such fears also had relevance in New
England. The subtitle of Tydings from Rome leaves no ambiguity
regarding the motivations for its composition—among them,
“London’s ruin” is “pathetically lamented.” The Great Fire of 1666 that
devastated the city was linked in the popular mind to rumors of a
Catholic conspiracy. The Puritan leadership of colonial Massachusetts, during the era of Increase Mather (1639–1723), had made its
initial migration to New England less than forty years earlier, and
immigration resumed at its earlier pace between the demise of the
Puritan domination of England in the 1650s and the Restoration in
1660. Interest by Puritans in stoking the fires of antipopery was the
product of sincerely held belief, but no doubt they also recognized an
effective political tool that could underscore the necessity of constant
vigilance against a common enemy. As the collective Puritan mind
saw it, an English political regression from parliamentary to absolutist
monarchical rule under Charles II was analogous to the constant
temptation of mankind’s reversion from a gospel-based piety of “spirit
and truth” to the carnal and primitive delights of popery. The fact that
Charles II’s wife, Henrietta Maria, also was a Catholic who was
allowed to practice her religion openly at court added fuel to the fires
of paranoia. The character of the civic body’s collective personal piety
shaped political realities.

18
Tydings from Rome: or, England’s alarm.Wherein several grounds to suspect the
prevalence of the popish interest are seasonably suggested; London’s ruin pathetically lamented; arguments to dissuade from the popish religion, are urged; and the
duties of Christians in this time of common danger, and distraction persuaded
(Cambridge, MA, 1668).

64

INDULGENCES AND THE ANTI-CATHOLIC IMAGINATION

Flavin’s was not the only work concerned with popish influence
upon the nation. “There are many Excellent Tracts that discover the
Villanies of Popery, and I wish they were more common,” wrote the
English Baptist preacher Benjamin Keach (1640–1704) in his tract
Sion in Distress or the Groans of the Protestant Church (London,
1681). The tract was reprinted in New England shortly after its
London publication. Keach stated:
It is a great comfort that the Spirit of the Nation is so much (and justly)
incensed against it.And that our Parliament is so Thorow and Resolved to
crush that Interest, whose Principles teach them to be (to all Hereticks, for
so they call Protestants) Traiterous Subjects, ill Neighbours, and worse
Soveraigns.

In Keach’s view, the primary threat of popery resides precisely in
the belief in indulgences. According to Keach, Catholics, because of
this aspect of their belief, are unfit as subjects, citizens, and monarchs.
The pamphlet appeared only one year after Charles II had dissolved Parliament for the second time, seeking to avert the passage of
a bill that would exclude his brother, the duke of York and future
James II, from the throne because of James’s conversion to
Catholicism. It was this bill, perhaps more than any other event, that
initially split the nation into Whig and Tory camps and guaranteed the
continuing importance of antipopery as a political issue.19
Keach’s condemnation of Catholicism as a threat to the very fabric
of the state encapsulates the major tenets of antipopery as expressed
in the printed material of the period. Antipopery literature cast
Catholics as potential rebels against the monarchy as well as people
who condemned all Protestants as heretics and thus would not honor
agreements made with their neighbors. Flowing from fears that
Catholics can be released from loyalty to sovereigns by authority of
the pope, this concept that Catholics are not obliged to keep faith
with “heretics” appeared threatening in very concrete political terms.
Finally, Catholics were characterized—as was James II by the supporters of the Exclusion Bill—as probable tyrants, weak-minded
because of their beliefs, and callous and willing agents of Rome’s presumed disregard for the gospel.The key Catholic belief identified by
19

[Benjamin Keach], Sion in Distress: Or, the Groans of the Protestant Church, 2nd
ed. (London, 1682), emphasis in original.The work was reprinted in Boston by Thomas
Baker in 1683. For background on the Exclusion Crisis and the parliaments of 1679–81,
see Steven Pincus, 1688: The First Modern Revolution (New Haven, 2009).

BY MICHAEL S. CARTER

65

early-modern English Protestant writers as most dangerous and threatening, as seen in Keach’s tract, was indulgences. Although the fruits of
“priestcraft” and attendant practices such as veneration of relics, use
of holy water, and the role of blessed objects such as crucifixes,
medals, and rosaries might be superstitious and void of authentic spirituality, it was the possibility of buying license to commit sin against
Protestant neighbors that was most threatening to the social and
moral fabric of the nation.
***
Antipopish writings that continued to appear after the close of the
seventeenth century revealed concerns shaped by contemporary
developments. Three major events involving religious identity and
government converged in Britain during the second decade of the
eighteenth century. Queen Anne—the last of the Stuart dynasty to sit
on the throne, as well as the first married female monarch—died in
1714, leaving no heir. As of 1701, the Act of Succession had barred
Roman Catholics from the throne. George I—Anne’s distant cousin, a
member of the German Hanover family, and someone whose position
in the line of succession was more than fifty places behind bloodrelated but legally ineligible Catholic candidates—was crowned in
Westminster Abbey. It was widely reputed at the time of George I’s
acscension to the throne that he could not speak English; religious
affiliation trumped language and nationality. According to Thomas S.
Kidd, efforts by New Englanders to identify with an “international
Protestantism” had never been successful due to irreconcilable doctrinal differences between Puritans and other reformed Christians
throughout the Atlantic world. But between the Glorious Revolution
and the Seven Years’ War, during which Catholic-Protestant conflicts
raged across much of Europe, eighteenth-century Protestants, including New England Puritans, a new imperative for religious and international solidarity developed, as Protestants in Europe “often found
themselves threatened by real or suspected agents of the Roman
Catholic church.”20
20
Thomas S. Kidd, The Protestant Interest: New England after Puritanism (New
Haven, 2004), pp. 16–17. Kidd writes further that “Puritans certainly had seen
Catholicism as a primary if not the ultimate enemy, but the wars of empire and the perceived and actual declining fortunes of the European Protestant community made the
rising pan-Protestant cohort much less interested in combating other Protestants, especially if those Protestants defended the Protestant succession.This became increasingly
true as New France and its Jesuit missionaries made the Catholic threat very near and
personal to the early eighteenth-century New Englanders. If leading New Englanders
imagined themselves as British nationals helping lead the international Protestant

66

INDULGENCES AND THE ANTI-CATHOLIC IMAGINATION

During the First Jacobite rising in 1715, James Francis Edward
Stuart, the “Old Pretender” (1688–1766), invaded Scotland, fleeing to
France in defeat the next year. Another, ultimately unsuccessful,
attempt in 1719 on behalf of the Stuart claimant was raised with assistance from Spain. The 1716 sermon Menachem (a name meaning
“comforter” in Hebrew) by Cotton Mather (1663–1728) views the
ascension of George I to the British throne and the Hanoverian succession as a triumph for pan-European Protestantism and invokes the
previous year’s Jacobite uprising.“At the same time” that a “KING, so
well acquainted with, and so well affected to, the Protestant Religion,
and so able to be a Defender of the Faith” had risen to the throne,“the
Betrayers of the Nations” attempted to “pave the Way that a Popish
Pretender might return from Exile, and Reign in Blood!”21 What is
most interesting about Mather’s polemic is its emphasis on the significance of the reign of George I for the nascent concept that Kidd and
other scholars have termed “international Protestantism.” Writing in
the early years of the period in which most historians seen New
England Puritanism as in decline, Mather lavishes praise on a British
monarch in unprecedented fashion. This was especially so for a
Puritan divine born in 1663, only three years after the Restoration,
when Puritan estimations of the monarchy were at their all-time nadir.
Indeed, Mather had clashed with civil authority—in 1689, he was
charged with holding a meeting of armed men at his house and thus
accused as one of the “chief designers” of a plot against Edmund
Andros, James II’s royal governor of Massachusetts.22 As Mather must
have been aware, George I had not demonstrated any interest in
reforming the Church of England, of which he was now head, according to Puritan or any other reformed model. But as the Puritan clergy’s
influence over New England politics waned during the early-eighteenth century, the ministry’s support for the success of an international Protestantism took on a new seriousness. Like their fellow subjects in England, they were willing to go so far as supporting English
monarchs such as William III and George I, who had been born in forcommunity, it was largely with the end of defeating the evil ‘other’ of international
Catholicism, and especially their French Catholic neighbors” (pp. 17–18).
21
Cotton Mather, Menachem. A very brief essay, on tokens for good: wherein,
together with the good signs which all good men have to comfort them, there are
exhibited also some good things of a late occurrence, and of a great importance,
which have a comfortable aspect on the Protestant religion in general, and more
particularly on a countrey of distinguished Protestants. A sermon, delivered in an
honourable audience at Boston (Boston, 1716), p. 34. Emphasis in original.
22
Kenneth Silverman, The Life and Times of Cotton Mather (New York, 1984), p. 69.

BY MICHAEL S. CARTER

67

eign nations—so long as they were Protestant. British Protestant religious identity—predicated upon antipopery—had trumped national
identity.
For Mather, the rise of George I and the Jacobite rebellion also had
apocalyptical dimensions.“[T]he whole Protestant Interest has been
Comforted,” he wrote, invoking the title of the pamphlet, “in the
Accession of our most Rightful and Lawful King GEORGE . . .”23 The
“Ancient Prophesies” had predicted that in “an hundred and
fourscore Years” after the English Reformation in 1534, which adds up
to 1714, the year of the crowning of George I,“the Papal Empire was
entring [sic] into the last Half-Time assigned for it,” which would “terminate in the Total Exctinction [sic] of it!”The wars fought between
the Austrian Hanovers and France were, Mather argued, evidence of
the fulfillment of these predictions.“Yet the prevailing of Popery has
been very Formidable. In the direful Methods, of Treachery, of
Injustice, of unparallel’d Barbarities, the Protestant Interest, has been
reduced so Low” until very recently, as to barely show any progress
since the first days of the Reformation. The Protestant world, he
argued, had been waiting for the triumph represented by the
Hanoverian succession in 1714. No wonder, then, that the “very deep
Confederacy . . . intended to Root out the Protestant Religion” had
conspired to bring a “Popish Pretender” to the throne in a plot “laid as
deep as Hell.”24 Although Mather makes no direct reference to
Catholic teaching about indulgences in this work, his broader, though
explicit, condemnations of popery as a false religion and as a work of
the devil resonate with much other anti-Catholic literature, including
a shorter work he had published only six years earlier. In The Fall of
Babylon (1708), a catechism intended for the Catholics of Maryland
“who may be in danger of popish delusions,” Mather wrote that “[t]he
Church of Rome has openly declared against Keeping Faith with (the
Faithful People of God, whom they call) HERETICKS.” Furthermore,“it
has Established its Idolatries & Usurpations, with such barbarous
Massacres & Martyrdoms . . . that all who have the least Humanity in
them, ought to Abhor such a Church.”25 Another ten years earlier, in
23

Mather, Menachem, p. 33.
Mather, Menachem, pp. 34–35. Emphasis in original.
25
Cotton Mather, The fall of Babylon. A short and plain catechism, which detects
& confutes the principles of popery: and arms the Protestant from the Tower of
David, for the defence of his holy religion Intended particularly for the service of the
Christians in Maryland, who may be in danger of popish delusions (Boston, 1707),
p. 18. Emphasis in original.
24

68

INDULGENCES AND THE ANTI-CATHOLIC IMAGINATION

his published sermon Eleutheria (1698), Mather had even more
explicitly invoked the idea of the downfall of popery in relation to
apocalypse. He believed that the time “left for the Reign of this
Antichrist” would soon be entering its final period. In the meantime,
those “too long slay’d by the Tyrannies of Rome” would begin to grow
willing to restrain the power of his “Ecclesiastical Harpies.”26 It is
unclear whether Mather’s “Harpies” are agents of the pope, Church of
England bishops who tended to be “high church” and thus targets of
Puritan hostility, or both. Interestingly, according to the imprint itself,
the work was printed in London, although meant for sale in both New
England and Edinburgh.
Theological objections to Catholicism did not only take the form of
sermons or politically oriented pamphlets, but pervaded nearly all
forms of literature. For example, among the most commercially successful works of fiction produced during the “long” eighteenth century is The French Convert, probably first published in 1696 in
London and written by A. D’Auborn, a French Protestant minister. It is
unclear if D’Auborn was a pseudonym; some scholars have argued,
based on the composition of early editions, that it may even have been
written by a colonial American author. As was often the case with
other antipopish literature, The French Convert was reprinted in New
England—almost certainly in Boston in 1708—and again by John
Peter Zenger, of libel trial fame, in New York in 1725. In fact, it was
Zenger’s first independently printed book. According to Kidd, who
cites an explanatory note by one party responsible for the initial publication of the novel, the role of the author was subordinate to that of
the reader and the printer, who in contributing to the spread of this
purportedly authentic work, were doing so “most for God’s Glory”
rather than for personal gain.27 With more than two dozen editions, it
became the most commonly reprinted book on popery in eighteenthcentury America.28

26
Eleutheria: or, An idea of the Reformation in England: and a history of non-conformity in and since that Reformation. With predictions of a more glorious reformation and revolution at hand. Written in the year 1696. Mostly compiled and
maintain’d from unexceptionable writings of conformable divines in the Church of
England (London, 1698), p. 28.
27
Thomas S. Kidd, “Recovering The French Convert: Views of the French and the
Uses of Anti-Catholicism in Early America,” Book History, 7 (2004), 97–111.
28
For more on colonial and early American novels, see Cathy N. Davidson,
Revolution and the Word: The Rise of the Novel in America (New York, 1986).

BY MICHAEL S. CARTER

69

This novel, claiming to be a “true”account, centers on the conversion
of Deidamia, a French Catholic noblewoman (possibly a Latin approximation of “woman of God”). The intended audience would have seen
the protagonist as intellectually and perhaps morally deficient on three
levels—as a woman, a Catholic, and French. She is an ideal protagonist
for anti-Catholic literature during this period. The reader no doubt is
expected to sympathize with the heroine not only because she is the
dupe of priestcraft but also because she is a weak woman.
In The French Convert, Deidamia discovers her Protestant gardener reading the Bible. She offers to toss it into the fire, as she
believes that the Church does not allow the laity to possess Bibles,
and she wishes to protect him from discovery and punishment. He
asks her to toss his body into the flames, as he cannot bear to part
with his Bible. After the woman’s conversion, Jesuits are hired to
assassinate her and the gardener.
The work’s true purpose is quickly revealed in its tediously catechetical approach, portrayal of Catholic clergy, and depiction of
Catholic teaching on indulgences. Deidemia resists the advances of a
lecherous priest who “had not scrupled to proffer the Pope’s Pardon
. . . and that before it was committed . . .” She comes to understand
through the Protestant gardener’s instruction that priests “frequently
tempted easy and ignorant People to the commission of many Sins”29
by exploiting the power of indulgences.
The plot line of The French Convert relies heavily on the novelistic conventions of the period, and its anti-Catholic tropes—Jesuit
assassins and all—are consonant with the anti-French sentiment that
only intensified during the French and Indian War, the Revolutionary
War, and the French Revolution. Its popular revival and continual
reprintings thus make sense toward the end of the eighteenth cen29

[Anonymous], The French convert: being a true relation of the happy conversion
of a noble French lady, from the errors and superstitions of popery, to the reformed
religion, by means of a Protestant gardiner [sic], her servant.Wherein is shewed, her
great and unparallel’d sufferings, on the account of her said conversion: as also her
wonderful deliverance from two assassines hired by a popish priest to murther her:
and of her miraculous preservation in a wood for two years; and how she was at
last providentially found by her husband, who (together with her parents) was
brought over by her means to the embracing of the true religion, as were divers
others also. The whole relation being sent by a Protestant minister, now a prisoner
in France, to a French refugee in London. (Boston, 1725), p. 45.

70

INDULGENCES AND THE ANTI-CATHOLIC IMAGINATION

tury, when, after initial American enthusiasm for the French
Revolution’s antimonarchial character, perceptions of the Catholic
French as “bloody” and “barbarous” once more came to the fore.
***
Events of the 1740s had a significant effect on antipopery literature. Charles Edward Stuart (1720–88), the “Young Pretender,” led the
Jacobite Rebellion of 1745. Although this military campaign to seat a
Stuart king on the British throne ended unsuccessfully in 1746, it left
a powerful psychological impression on English-speaking people of
the time and propelled a new flurry of antipopish publications.
In October 1745, the pamphlet The Question, Whether England
can be otherwise than miserable under a Popish King? appeared in
London with a note on the title page that it was “printed at the desire
of gentlemen who give them away” without charge. The work
declares, “’Tis the business of our enemies to lull you into security,
and blind you, but if ever there was a time for opening your eyes, it is
now.”30 Although many have failed to take the threat to the throne
seriously, writes the author,“[P]opish priests have succeeded too well,
in bringing people over to their religion; and this is the second
attempt within these two years of the Pretender to invade England.”
The author argues that all Roman Catholics are, at heart, Jacobite sympathizers, “tho’ they often declare the contrary; but it is impossible,
that a man can be truly a Roman Catholic, without wishing well to
the Pretender.”31
Similarly, the anonymously authored tract A Protestant’s
Resolution: shewing his reasons why he will not be a Papist (London,
1679; Boston, 1746) is preoccupied with the perceived dangers of
priestcraft and is written in the traditional question-and-answer form
of period catechisms. Along with The French Convert, it was one of
the most frequently reprinted antipopish tracts of the eighteenth century.32 A Protestant Resolution was in its nineteenth edition by
30
[Anonymous], The Question, Whether England can be otherwise than miserable
under a Popish King? Considered: In A Short Address to the People of England
(London, October 5, 1745). Emphasis in original.
31
Anonymous, The Question, p. 3. Emphasis in original.
32
The pamphlet had been printed in London, Dublin, and Edinburgh, in nineteen
editions, by the beginning of the reign of George I in 1714, according to the British
Museum’s Catalogue of Printed Books (London, 1894), p. 185. The first American edition appeared in Boston in 1746.

BY MICHAEL S. CARTER

71

171433 and was reprinted during the Jacobite risings of 1744 and
1745.It also had relevance to northern and southern colonists living
near Catholic French and Spanish settlers, respectively.
Indulgences occupy a prominent place in the work.They “are the
worst of Cheats, and abominable Injuries to Christ and Christians,”
declares the author. The proof for this is that “there is no Pardon of
Sin, but by the Mercy of God, thro’ the Blood of Christ.” Furthermore,
the “great Article of Forgiveness of Sins, and free Justification thro’ the
Grace of God in Jesus Christ, is overthrown by their Doctrine of Merit,
Pardons, Indulgencies, &c.”34 Invoking Pope Pius V’s bull Regnans in
Excelsis, which denounced Queen Elizabeth I as a heretic, the pamphlet states that Catholicism is “a Traiterous Religion . . . For they
teach, That the Pope may depose the Emperor,” and “may lawfully
Absolve Subjects from their Oath of Allegiance.”35
In antipopish ideology, fears of popery’s tyrannical effects upon
government are directly associated with indulgences and the power
of the papacy. Puritan minister Hull Abbot of Charlestown,
Massachusetts, preached a sermon to his congregation in January
1745, which was published the following year as A Sermon
Occasion’d By the Rebellion in Scotland.36 The sermon mentions the
prime danger of a Jacobite triumph, in the author’s view: “arbitrary
power” wielded by a Catholic Stuart king. Abbot urged his congregation to pray for deliverance from this threat. Britain had already
enjoyed “many Deliverances . . . since the blessed Reformation from
Popery and Slavery,” and it was “by the Will of GOD” that the Glorious
33

[Anonymous], A Protestants resolution: shewing his reasons why he will not be
a Papist Digested into so plain a method of question and answer, that an ordinary
capacity may be able to defend the Protestant religion, against the most cunning
Jesuit or Popish priest. Useful for these times (London, 1679).
34
[Anonymous], A Protestant’s Resolution (Boston, 1746), p. 17.
35
Anonymous, A Protestant’s Resolution, p. 32, emphasis in original. For more on
Regnans in Excelsis and its political ramifications, see MacCulloch, The Reformation,
p. 334.
36
Hull Abbot, The duty of God’s people to pray for the peace of Jerusalem: and
especially for the preservation and continuance of their own privileges both civil
and religious, when in danger at home or from abroad.A sermon on occasion of the
rebellion in Scotland rais’d in favour of a popish pretender; with design to overthrow
our present happy establishment, and to introduce popery and arbitrary power into
our nations, from which, by a series of wonders, in the good providence of God, they
have been often delivered, preach’d at Charlestown in New-England, Jan. 12. 1745
(Boston, 1746).

72

INDULGENCES AND THE ANTI-CATHOLIC IMAGINATION

Revolution had taken place in 1688.37 Like others of his generation,
particularly Puritan colleagues like Cotton Mather, Abbot believed
apocalyptically that before the end of the world, the pope and his
power would be destroyed.
This theme was developed further after the end of the Jacobite
crisis in 1746 by the Annapolis minister John Gordon, who preached
a thanksgiving sermon on the subject that was attended by Thomas
Bladen, governor of Maryland. Should the Stuart Pretender have been
successful in his attempted invasion, Gordon claimed, he would have
brought to the throne “a Religion as destroys the Foundation of all
Trust,” “sanctifies all the Methods of Fraud and Dissimulation,” and
teaches its followers “to keep no Faith with us.” If the Pretender were
to reign, Catholic priests would be waiting “ready to extirpate Heresy
out of our Religion, that is, ourselves out of the World, by Burnings
and massacres. . .”38 Gordon’s sermon indicates that popery was not
just an issue on distant shores but also was felt as a real threat at
home—and he felt strongly enough about the matter to say so in the
presence of the governor of the colony.
***
Eighteenth-century historical works, such as those of the popular
Boston-based physician and polemicist William Douglass (1691–
1752), were no less concerned with popery and fitness for subjecthood. Douglass’s History of the British Settlements of North
America, printed in 1749, discusses Catholic theological beliefs—particularly indulgences—and connects them to treasonous activities.
“The Roman Catholicks commonly called Papists, in all well-regulated Governments, from most evident civil political Reasons, ought to
be excluded,” Douglass writes.This is because, he notes,
the Constitution of their Religion, renders them a Nusance [sic] in Society;
they have an indulgence for Lying, Cheating, Robbing, Murdering, and not
only may but are in Christian Duty bound, to extirpate all Mankind who
are not of their Way of thinking.

37

Abbot, The duty of God’s people, p. 18. Emphasis in original.
[A thanksgiving sermon on occasion of the suppression of the unnatural rebellion,
in Scotland, by His Royal Highness the Duke of Cumberland: preached at the city of
Annapolis, before His Excellency Thomas Bladen, Esq. governor of Maryland by the Rev.
Mr. Gordon] (Annapolis, 1746), p. 6. Emphasis in original.
38

BY MICHAEL S. CARTER

73

Catholics, he reports further, call others outside their faith “Hereticks:
Unless the Pope (the Head and Oracle of their Religion),” or “Popery
by the Laws of Nature and Jus Gentium [international law] ought to
be deem’d, [are] inconsistent with human Society.” Douglass provides
historical examples of when the doctrine was invoked that, in his
view, allowed Catholics to operate outside the moral laws binding
their Protestant countrymen. He claims that “this most execrable
Doctrine” of Catholics “has in a most dismal horrid Manner, frequently
been put in Execution,” citing in particular the “Popish Persecution of
Protestants by the Papists in England in the Reign of Queen Mary
from Anno 1553 to 1557.” As Douglass writes, the period historian
Gilbert Burnet, bishop of Salisbury, described the queen as “a good
natured Woman,” but declared that she was “of a very ill-natured
Religion.”39
Likewise, as future American Revolutionary leader John Adams
(1735–1826) makes clear in his fascinating historical polemic “A
Dissertation on the Canon and Feudal Law,” published in the Boston
Gazette in 1765 during the height of the Stamp Act crisis, tropes
about priestcraft, or Catholic clerical authority as the chief enemy of
liberty, were just as compelling as they had been two decades earlier
during the Jacobite rising of 1745. For Adams, the Catholic Church
had historically sought to maintain its immense power by “[t]he most
refined, sublime, extensive, and astonishing constitution of policy,
that ever was conceived by the mind of man.”This policy “was framed
by the Romish clergy for the aggrandizement of their own order.” In
addition:
All the epithets I have here given to the Romish policy are just: and will be
allowed to be so, when it is considered, that they even persuaded mankind
to believe, faithfully and undoubtedly, that GOD almighty had intrusted
them with the keys of heaven; whose gates they might open and close at
pleasure—with a power of dispensing over all the rules and obligations of
morality—with authority to license all sorts of sins and crimes—with a
power of deposing princes, and absolving subjects from allegiance—with
a power of procuring or withholding the rain of heaven and the beams of
the sun—with the management of earthquakes, pestilence and famine. Nay
with the mysterious, awful, incomprehensible power of creating out of
bread and wine, the flesh and blood of God himself. All these opinions,
39
William Douglass, M.D., A summary, historical and political, of the first planting,
progressive improvements, and present state of the British settlements in NorthAmerica (Boston, 1749), p. 225.

74

INDULGENCES AND THE ANTI-CATHOLIC IMAGINATION

they were enabled to spread and rivet among the people, by reducing their
minds to a state of sordid ignorance and staring timidity; and by infusing
into them a religious horror of letters and knowledge. Thus was human
nature chained fast for ages, in a cruel, shameful and deplorable servitude,
to him [the pope] and his subordinate tyrants, who, it was foretold, would
exalt himself above all that was called God, and that was worshipped.40

Adams’s essay, in short, equates the history of Catholicism—synonymous in his view with premodern European history—with a conspiracy of pope and prelates to control the minds and wills of an entire
continent of residents. His critique of Catholicism moves beyond the
historical into the realm of doctrine and moral precepts. In writing
that the Church had “a power of dispensation over all the rules and
obligations of morality—with authority to license all sorts of sins and
crimes—with a power of deposing princes, and absolving subjects
from allegiance,” he is speaking both of indulgences and the idea that
Catholics “keep no faith with heretics.”41
The concerns expressed by Adams are echoed in Popish Idolatry,
a lecture by Jonathan Mayhew (1720–66; see figure 2). As this lecture
was composed in the same year as Adams’s “Dissertation” and the
Stamp Act crisis, it suggests that antipopery continued to be a compelling political issue. The Whig clergyman’s lecture was one of the
Dudleian lectures, established and endowed in 1750 by a gift willed
to Harvard College by an alumnus, Judge Paul Dudley of the
Massachusetts Supreme Court.The gift stipulated that a series of four
lectures should be given annually at the college, with the third of
these dedicated to
exposing the Idolatry of the Romish church, their tyranny, usurpations and
other crying wickedness, in their high places; and finally that the church
of Rome is that mystical Babylon, that man of sin, that Apostate church
spoken of in the New Testament.42

This depiction of Rome as the “apostate church” predicted before the
end of the world in the Book of Revelation often appears in antipopery literature in the eighteenth century. Popish Idolatry mentions the
Council of Trent and encapsulates some of the traditional Puritan
40
John Adams, Dissertation on the Canon and the Feudal Law, in The Papers of
John Adams, ed. Robert J. Taylor, Mary-Jo Kline, and Gregg L Lint (Cambridge, MA,
1977–), p. 109. Emphasis in original.
41
Adams, Dissertation.
42
Cogliano, p. 8.

BY MICHAEL S. CARTER

75

FIGURE 2. Illustration of Jonathan Mayhew from Alden Bradford, Memoir
of the Life and Writings of Rev. Jonathan Mayhew, D.D. (Boston, 1838),
frontispiece.

objections to Catholic practice, ending with a discussion of indulgences and their connection to the concept of “keeping no faith with
heretics.” As Mayhew stated,
when the council of Trent so gravely injoins, that all superstition in the
worship of saints and reliques, and in the sacred use of images, should be
taken away, still encouraging these practices themselves, [the Church was]
as anti-scriptural and irrational as if those fathers had decreed, that men
should commit fornication, but without unchastity; theft and robbery, but
without injustice; murder, without breach of charity; and blasphemy, without impiety.

Mayhew identified indulgences as justifying the “crimes” that the leaders of the Catholic Church find
very useful in their turns, and subservient to their own ends, when kept
under their discrete and skilful management . . . For what would then
become of their dispensations, pardons, indulgencies, and I know not
what; the wicked craft, by which they have their wealth?43
43
Jonathan Mayhew, Popish idolatry: A discourse delivered in the chapel of
Harvard-College in Cambridge, New-England, May 8. 1765. At the lecture founded
by the Honorable Paul Dudley, Esquire (Boston, 1765). Emphasis in original.

76

INDULGENCES AND THE ANTI-CATHOLIC IMAGINATION

As trouble with London intensified in the mid-1770s, the American
Continental Congress hoped to gain the new British and formerly
French-controlled colony of Quebec as an ally, but the French
Catholics to the north would have none of the idea. The Canadians
objected to the duplicitous behavior of a Congress that, on the one
hand, sent Benjamin Franklin and Jesuit priest John Carroll (cousin to
delegate Charles Carroll) as diplomatic envoys to them, yet, on the
other, adopted the “Suffolk County” resolutions of September 1774.
Pertaining to Quebec, the resolutions stated that “we think the Legislature of Great-Britain [Parliament] is not authorized by the constitution to establish a religion [Catholicism], fraught with sanguinary and
impious tenets, or, to erect an arbitrary form of government, in any
quarter of the globe.” Furthermore,
the dominion of Canada is to be so extended, modeled, and governed, as
that by being disunited from us, detached from our interests, by civil as well
as religious prejudices, that by their numbers daily swelling with Catholic
emigrants from Europe . . . they might become formidable to us, and on
occasion, be fit instruments in the hands of power, to reduce the ancient
free Protestant Colonies to the same state of slavery with themselves.

This was not all, however. The Continental Congress could not
express its “astonishment, that a British Parliament should ever consent to establish in that country a religion that has deluged your island
in blood, and dispersed impiety, bigotry, persecution, murder and
rebellion through every part of the world.” The toleration of popery
in Canada was so dangerous that
the Roman Catholics of this vast continent will then be in the power of
your [Britain’s] enemies—nor will you have any reason to expect, that
after making slaves of us, many among us should refuse to assist in reducing you to the same abject state.44

Their fellow British subjects in England would have been quite
familiar with the language of these complaints as well as the reasoning and anxieties behind them.“Against Popery,” an oath included for
justices of the peace in a 1774 American edition of a book published
44
Extracts from the votes and proceedings of the American Continental Congress,
held at Philadelphia, on the 5th of September, 1774. Containing, the bill of rights, a
list of grievances, occasional resolves, the Association, an address to the people of
Great-Britain, a memorial to the inhabitants of the British American colonies, and
an address to the inhabitants of Quebec. Published by order of the Congress (NewLondon, 1774).

BY MICHAEL S. CARTER

77

on both sides of the Atlantic, requires the oath-taker to declare that
the Mass, prayers to the saints, and other practices of the “church of
Rome, are superstitious and idolatrous.” Furthermore, he had to testify
that his declaration was meant “in the plain and ordinary sense of the
words read unto me, as they commonly understood by English
Protestants . . . and without any dispensation already granted me for
this purpose by the Pope . . .”Additionally, the applicant had to swear
that the oath was taken
without thinking that I am or can be acquitted before God or man, or
absolved of this declaration, or any part thereof, although the Pope . . . shall
dispense with or annul the same, or declare that it was null or void from
the beginning.45

Amid the oath’s exhaustive litany of rejections of Catholic practices,
real and imagined, it should be noted that the oath is primarily concerned with the idea of papal dispensations over oaths and promises.
Although the anti-Catholic literature of late-seventeenth and earlyeighteenth-century Britain and its New England colonies took a variety of forms—from the political and historical to the doctrinal—the
frequent and often relentless vehemence of its rhetoric cannot
obscure the particular logic of prejudice against Catholic belief and
practice during the period. In the absence of any meaningful measure
of freedom of expression for Catholics and the subsequent lack of an
authoritative Catholic voice in the colonies, the ideology and rhetoric
of antipopery inevitably replicated and reinforced itself with a degree
of internal consistency throughout a range of genres. To understand
the persistence of early American attitudes toward Catholic belief—
such as fear of Catholic disloyalty to the state that had violent ramifications during the nineteenth-century nativist era—new explorations
into the vocabulary and ideology of anti-Catholicism are necessary. A
clearer perception of the role that indulgences and early American
Protestant perceptions of them played in developing this ideology is
one important key to deepening this understanding.

45
English liberties, or The free-born subject’s inheritance. Containing Magna
Charta, Charta de Foresta, the statute De Tallagio non Concedendo, the Habeas
Corpus Act, and several other statutes; with comments on each of them . . . with many
law-cases throughout the whole. Compiled first by Henry Care, and continued, with
large additions, by William Nelson, of the Middle-Temple, Esq. (Providence, 1774), p.
307. See also Derek H. Davis, Religion and the Continental Congress, 1774–1789
(New York, 2000).

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH,THE NIGERIAN CIVIL WAR,
AND THE BEGINNING OF
ORGANIZED LAY APOSTOLATE GROUPS
AMONG THE IGBOS OF SOUTHEASTERN NIGERIA
BY

JACINTA CHIAMAKA NWAKA*

The socioeconomic crisis of the postwar period, the government
takeover of mission schools, and the expulsion of expatriate missionaries opened the way for a larger role for the laity in Igboland
South in eastern Nigeria, especially in evangelization and the
organization of lay groups. Although these lay groups made some
progress in addressing the problems of the period, taking the gospel
message beyond conversion, adopting a more radical approach to
evangelization, and building a healthier society remained substantial challenges.
Keywords: African church history; lay organizations; missionaries;
Nigerian church history; Spiritans
The history of Christian activities in Igboland, particularly the work
of missionaries, has been discussed by several scholars.1 Issues such
as the influence of the Church on Igbo culture also have received
scholarly attention.2 One area, however, that has been neglected is the
Catholic Church and the Nigerian Civil War.3 This article assesses the
influence of the civil war on the organization of lay groups among the
*Dr. Nwaka is a lecturer in the Department of History and International Studies at
the University of Benin in Ibadan, Nigeria, email jchiamaka@yahoo.com.
1
Authors who have dealt extensively with Catholicism in Igboland, schools active in
evangelization, and the work of early missionaries such as the Spiritans Joseph Lutz,
Léon Lejeune, Bishop Joseph Shanahan, and Bishop Charles Heerey include Hypolite
Adigwe, Noel Eze, Frederick Nnabuife, Vincent A. Nwosu, Celestine Obi, Nicholas
Omenka, K. B. C. Onwubiko, and Ikenga Ozigbo.
2
For details of Christianity and Igbo culture, see Edmund Ilogu, Christianity and
Igbo Culture (New York, 1974).
3
One exception is Jacinta Nwaka,“The Catholic Church and Conflict Management
during the Nigerian Civil War, 1967–1970,” PhD diss., University of Ibadan, 2011.

78

BY JACINTA CHIAMAKA NWAKA

79

Igbo in southeastern Nigeria, providing a brief history of the Church
in Igboland and discussing the relationship between the laity and the
clergy in the early period of evangelization, pre-1970 attempts at
organized lay groups, the challenges after the civil war, and the establishment of more formal lay groups after 1970.
Some Definitions
It is necessary to provide some definitions and clarifications of
terms used in this article. Christ’s followers in the Catholic Church fall
into two broad categories: the clergy and the laity. However, a third
group, the religious, which Canon 588 describes as “neither lay nor
cleric,” exists within the Church.The clergy are those elevated to the
Holy or Sacerdotal Order. With their ministerial function as priests,
they act not only as shepherds of God’s flock but also as an intermediary between God and his people.The laity is composed of lay faithful who, although they are not priests, share in the priestly, prophetic,
and kingly role of Christ. As such, they share in the evangelizing work
of Christ as members of his mystical body, the Church, in a manner different from that of the ministry of priests.
In Nigeria, the Church has lay statutory bodies and pious societies,
which are generally referred to as lay apostolate groups. The statutory bodies are the Catholic Women’s Organization, the Catholic
Men’s Organization, the Catholic Girls Organization, the Catholic
Boys’ Organization, and the Catholic Youth Organization. The pious
groups include the Legion of Mary, St. Anthony’s Guild, and St. Jude’s
Society that focus on charismatic renewal and engage in prayer and
other activities as approved by the Church and the leadership of such
societies. Although every baptized individual is expected to join one
of the statutory bodies, membership in the pious societies is not a
requirement because of their designation as devotional groups. For
the purpose of this article, the term laity connotes both the statutory
bodies and the lay pious societies. In other words, any activity carried
out under the umbrella of the Catholic Church by lay individuals or
groups is taken to be an activity of the laity.
The Igbos, the ethnic population discussed in this article, largely
live in present-day southeastern Nigeria (the former East Central
State) and the South-South geopolitical zone of Nigeria. In the southeast or Lower Niger are found the southern, eastern, and northern
Igbo who came under little external influence and thus are referred

80

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH AND THE NIGERIAN CIVIL WAR

to as the core Igbo.The western Igbo (popularly known as the “Ika”
Igbo) are found in the South-South and had more external influences
than their counterparts in the Southeast, which may explain variations in dialect and culture. The term Igboland used in this article
simply means the Igbo enclave in the present-day southeast. As this
area was the theater of war and had the most challenging situation in
the postwar period, it is highly appropriate for analysis here.
A Brief History of the Catholic Church in Igboland
The activities of the early Catholic missionaries in the Igbo area of
the Lower Niger began with the arrival in Onitsha of two French
Spiritan priests, Joseph Lutz and Jean-Nicolas Horne, and two French
Spiritan brothers, Hermas Huck and Jean Gotto, in 1885–86.4 They
intended to head for Igbebe that was situated in the confluence of the
Niger and Benue (Lokoja). However, an agent of the Royal Niger
Company denied them a permit for passage from Akassa, because they
did not have a recommendation letter from the company’s London
headquarters.5 The four missionaries then journeyed to Brass, where
an English Protestant merchant, Charles Townsend, welcomed them.
He persuaded them to begin their mission in Onitsha and took them
to visit the local king, Obianazonwu of Onitsha.The king offered the
missionaries a piece of land where they later built their first mission
station in Igboland.
From Onitsha, the missionaries began to move into areas around the
Niger such as Aguleri, Nteje, Nsugbe, and Igbariam. The missionaries
provided Father Albert Bubendorf as chaplain on the Aro expedition of
1901–02, which opened the territory of the Lower Niger. In the establishment of missions in the interior, the Catholic missionaries competed with representatives of the Protestant Church Mission Society
(CMS). The Catholic missionaries established missions in Ozubulu,
Nnewi,Adazi, Nimo, Ihiala, Mbaise, Emekuku, Emii, and Oguta.The discovery of bitumen in Enugu in 1909 resulted in a mission station in
that area, followed by missions in Eke, Achi, Awgu, Udi, Ogbete, and
4
For details on the French pioneer missionaries in Igboland, see Frederick Nnabuife,
“The History of the Catholic Church in Eastern Nigeria: The Foundation Period,
1885–1905,” PhD diss., Pontificia Università Gregoriana, 1983; Hypoite Adigwe, “The
Beginning of the Catholic Church among the Ibos of South-Eastern Nigeria,
1885–1930,” PhD diss., University of Vienna, 1966.
5
Congregation of the Holy Spirit, Journal of Southern Nigeria, 1885–1912, Dec. 7,
1885, cited in Nnabuife,“The History,” p. 96.

BY JACINTA CHIAMAKA NWAKA

81

Nsukka. Indeed, by 1920, various mission stations had been established
in northern, eastern, and southern Igboland, and towns such as Nnewi
had more than one parish. According to K. B. C. Onwubiko, the
Catholic Church, by 1925, had outstripped the CMS in terms of
number of missions established in the territory.6 Education proved an
effective strategy. Although the pioneer missionaries used this tactic,
Father Léon Lejeune and Bishop Joseph Shanahan popularized it.With
the latter’s slogan of “expansion now and consolidation later,”7
Shanahan’s representatives fanned out across Igboland. Given that the
CMS schools taught in the vernacular and the Catholic schools used
English, the Igbo (who cherished English as a novelty and saw its
advantages in colonial matters) sent delegations to the missionaries
asking for mission schools in their towns and villages.Thus, education
was used as an effective instrument for accessing the interiors of
Igboland from Onitsha. By 1964, the Church was the sponsor of more
than one-third of the elementary schools in the Eastern Region.8
The Laity and the Clergy in the Early Period of Evangelization:
An Overview
Missionaries in Igboland conducted their activities through the
assistance of chiefs and other influential individuals, through the provision of medical care, and through the assistance of laypeople who
worked in roles such as catechists, teachers, and interpreters.9
Chiefs and influential men of some villages and towns who proved
crucial in the missionaries work included Onyeama of Eke in Enugu,
6
K. B. C. Onwubiko, “The Catholic Church and the Development of Education in
Eastern Nigeria, 1885–1995,” in A Hundred Years of Catholicism in Eastern Nigeria,
1885–1985, ed. Emefie Ikenga-Metuh and Christopher I. Ejizu (Nimo, Nigeria, 1985), pp.
234–76, here p. 244.
7
For details of Shanahan’s ideology, see Celestine Obi, “The Missionary
Contributions of Joseph Shanahan, CSSp., 1902–1932,” in A Hundred Years of the
Catholic Church in Eastern Nigeria, ed. Celestine Obi (Onitsha, Nigeria, 1985), pp.
107–75; Casmir Eke, Augustine Onyeneke, and Remigius Onyewuenyi, In the Footsteps
of Our Founder: A History of the Spiritan Province of Nigeria, 1953–2002 (Enugu,
Nigeria, 2006), pp. 106–13; John P. Jordan, Bishop Shanahan of Southern Nigeria
(Dublin, 1971).
8
Of about 5986 primary schools in the eastern region in 1964, the Catholic Church
operated more than 2406; see Eastern Nigeria Ministry of Education, Directory of
Elementary Schools in Eastern Region, 1964 (Enugu, Nigeria, 1965).
9
Prominent among these lay faithful were Pius Amanze from Emekuku, J. I. Duke
from Afikpo, Joseph Modebe from Ihiala, Paul Anaekwe from Ukpor, Solomon Okaih
from Adazi, and Joseph Ezedueme from Eziowelle.

82

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH AND THE NIGERIAN CIVIL WAR

Obi Anazonwu of Onitsha, Joseph Onyekomeli Idigo of Aguleri,
Ojiakor Ezenne of Adazi, Obiejeshi Ajoku Abuba of Emekuku, and
Okparaochekwe of Ulakwu in the Owerri province. These men
donated land and invited the missionaries to open mission houses and
schools.Although most of these chiefs tended to aid the missionaries
out of materialistic motives rather than spiritual ones,10 there were
those who truly devoted themselves to the propagation of the gospel.
Unlike Okparaochekwe of Ulakwu who had expected the missionaries to make Ulakwu famous through their activities and thus became
disillusioned and openly hostile when this did not occur,11 Idigo, who
became a convert along with his household, was a useful instrument
in the evangelization of Aguleri and the surrounding towns.
Commenting on Idigo’s role in the evangelization of Aguleri, one missionary noted:
Night prayers are said in common in a little oratory before a simple cross.
Idigo, our old chief, goes round the village ringing his bell; that is his signal
for the assembly which ends with an Ave Maria and a hymn in the Ibo language. In the morning at about 5.00 o’clock, Idigo’s ivory horn, the insignia
of his office as a chief, wakes us up for morning prayers and holy Mass
which all participate . . .12

A missionary once described Idigo as “influential and devoted, and
above all, avid to make Jesus known and loved.”13
The missionaries also evangelized through the provision of medical care at mission houses and new clinics.These facilities included
Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital, Ihiala; Holy Rosary Hospital,
Emekuku; Holy Rosary Hospital, Nsukka; and Holy Trinity Hospital,
Onitsha. Providing this service generated competition among towns
and villages for the missionaries’ presence in their midst and won
converts to the Church.14 For example, in contrast with the mis-

10

Vincent Nwosu,“The Laity and Church Growth,” in Obi, ed., A Hundred Years of
the Catholic Church, pp. 331–56, here p. 335.
11
Rose Njoku, The Advent of the Catholic Church in Nigeria: Its Growth in Owerri
Diocese (Owerri, Nigeria, 1980), p. 44.
12
Congregation of the Holy Spirit, Bulletin de la Congregation [Paris], XIX, no. 140
(1898), 336–38.
13
Elizabeth Isichei, Entirely for God: The Life of Michael Iwene Tansi (Ibadan,
1980), p. 5.
14
Felix Ekechi, Missionary Enterprise and Rivalry in Igboland, 1859–1914
(London, 1972), p. 93.

BY JACINTA CHIAMAKA NWAKA

83

sionaries’ early difficulties with the Royal Niger Company, they now
were not only welcome to open their mission in Obosi but also
gained many converts from the CMS mission. The long-term effects
of this humanitarian work by Catholic missionaries can be seen in
the words of the chief of Obosi when the latter was expressing his
gratitude to the missionaries for their assistance during the civil
war:
White man, I salute you. God is with you, man from oyibo country,
Providence has brought you to this country to render us assistance . . . I
salute you, white man, for diseases; you gave us a box of medicine which
we know nothing of.15

Laypeople proved crucial to the missionaries’ work.They tended to
provide in-kind support rather than cash—for example, supplying
labor and construction materials to mission centers. Missionaries
organized catechism as well as moral and religious instruction classes
at the parish, village, and ward levels, training laypeople to serve as
instructors.
The laity also played a role after various government maneuvers
attempted to exert control over an educational system that was heavily influenced by the Catholic Church. The Education Code of 1926
permitted the Nigerian government to close schools adjudged to be
noncompliant with the code.16 The mission groups, particularly the
Catholic ones, reacted quickly to the policy,17 but the code proved
unenforceable at the local level. In January 1957, the government of
the Eastern Region introduced universal primary education (UPE)18 in
an attempt to halt the expansion of schools under private agencies
and to secularize education in the region. The Catholic faithful viewed
this move as a conspiracy against the Church by the government led
15

Ekechi, Missionary Enterprise, p. 392.
For details on the Education Code of 1926, see A. Babs Fafunwa, Education in
Nigeria, 1842–1939 (Ibadan, 1978).
17
Some reactions to the code appeared in the Nigerian Catholic Herald, a monthly
Catholic newspaper that began publication in 1925. For a discussion of the code, see
David B. Abernethy, The Political Dilemma of Popular Education (Stanford, 1969),
p. 87.
18
For details on UPE, see Eastern Nigeria, Universal Primary Education—Statements
of Policy and Procedure for the Guidance of Education Officers, Local Government
Council and Voluntary Agencies (mimeographed, August 20, 1966). Repr. Eastern
Nigerian Ministry of Education, Directory of Elementary Schools, 1966 (Enugu,
Nigeria, 1966).
16

84

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH AND THE NIGERIAN CIVIL WAR

by Nnamdi Azikiwe and dominated by non-Catholics.19 Consequently,
mass protests and other criticisms greeted the policy.20 These reactions, together with the report from a committee chaired by K. O.
Dike21 and a lack of government funding, culminated in concessions
made to the private agencies.
The formation of lay groups also played a role in the missionaries’
work and is discussed below.
Organized Lay Groups before 1970
Lay groups in Igboland before 1970 included the Sacred Heart of
Jesus, the Legion of Mary, St. Jude’s Society, St. Anthony’s Guild,
Knights of St. Mulumba, St. Vincent de Paul Society, Congregation of
the Blessed Virgin, Total Abstinence Group, and the Council of
Catholic Women.Although these bodies may have had large membership rolls, few individuals were active in them, and coordination of
activities did not exist across groups.The isolation and sense of competition between groups are evident in this comment from the director of the lay apostolate of the Archdiocese of Onitsha in 1970:
“Hitherto some associations tend to exist independent of any other of
identical purpose. St Michael’s Society in Alor, for example, has no
notion of and cares not a pin about,St. Michael’s Society in Nnokwa.”22
As the prevailing belief was that the clergy had the major responsibility for proselytization and works of mercy, most laypeople were
concerned with their personal spirituality, with the exception of the
members of the Legion of Mary, who combined personal sanctifica19
Azikiwe, an Anglican, declined to see Heerey when the latter demanded a meeting
regarding the UPE issue.This refusal may have led the Catholics to believe that CMS was
behind UPE, given the dominance of the Catholic Church in the educational system in
the region. For more on this controversy, see Cooke,“Church, State and Education.”
20
“Catholic Bishops on the UPE,” The Leader [Owerri], June 9, 1956.
21
Headed by K. O. Dike, a committee in 1958 examined the UPE program in the
region, recommending a moderate approach and emphasizing quality rather than
quantity.The committee also advised against such a large-scale approach, as it would
sap government revenue; the government was then spending one-third of its revenue
on education. See J. U. Emeh, Victor Finipaya Peretomode, and C. S. Akpe, eds.,
Nigerian Primary Education: Issues, Policies, and Administration (Abuja, Nigeria,
1992), p. 44.
22
Archives of the Archdiocesan Secretariat of Onitsha (hereafter referred to as
AASON), Memorandum on Lay Apostolate Organization in Onitsha Archdiocese,
November 30, 1970, File no. 49.

BY JACINTA CHIAMAKA NWAKA

85

tion with some proselytization.23 With the proliferation of lay groups
with similar aims and objectives, there was the tendency for individuals to belong to two or more organizations of similar aims and for
each group to claim that it had originated certain aims and objectives.
Larger groups were more likely to attract members, absorb smaller
groups, and command a higher level of diocesan and parish attention.
Thus the potential for rivalries between groups can be seen.
The lay societies of the period also had problems related to illiteracy. Only a few officers could read and write, posing difficulties
for movements that had originated abroad and required members to
strictly adhere to their rules and regulations. In some locales (such
as rural areas) where no one with sufficient education was available,
these groups experienced serious setbacks. The Legion of Mary
Society in Onitsha relayed such concerns to Francis A. Arinze, archbishop of the diocese, listing as problems the lack of educated
people to provide leadership and serve as officers, occasional misunderstandings between members and nonmembers, poor finance,
and the use of a handbook (The Legion Mariae) that was “still in foreign language but could be of more use if it is in our language.”24 It
was, therefore, unsurprising that the activities of the laity were not
coordinated given that such coordination requires educated men
and women.
Finally, the most outstanding feature of the lay apostolate groups
during this period was their dependence on the clergy. Many of these
organizations were founded and organized by the latter.The Legion of
Mary, for instance, was introduced in Ifuho in 1933 (in the Eastern
Region’s Diocese of Ikot Ekpene) by James Moynagh, S.P.S. (later
bishop of the Diocese of Calabar).25 Anselm I. Ojefua, O.C.S.O.,
inspired the founding of the Knights of St. Mulumba in 1953.26
Charles Heerey, archbishop of Onitsha, organized the Catholic
women’s movement in the archdiocese. Although laypeople established some organizations such as the Block Rosary Crusade (started
by teenagers and storekeepers gathering in Aba and Onitsha to say

23

Nwosu,“The Laity and Church Growth,” p. 348.
AASON, Address by the Legion of Mary Society of the Archdiocese of Onitsha to
Francis A.Arinze, archbishop of Onitsha, on November 29, 1970, File no. 49.
25
Nwosu,“The Laity and Church Growth,” p. 347.
26
Chukudifu Oputa, The History, Trial and Triumph of Knighthood (Onitsha,
Nigeria, 1974), p. 27.
24

86

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH AND THE NIGERIAN CIVIL WAR

night prayers), the majority of these groups either were founded by
clergy or were heavily dependent on the clergy for sustenance.
The Nigerian Civil War, Postwar Challenges,
and the Role of Lay Groups
In the mid-1960s, Nigeria faced serious ethno-political crises. The
census crisis of 1962–63, the Tiv riots of 1964, the 1964 federal election crisis and subsequent violence, and the 1965 western election
crisis led to a coup in January 1966, followed by a counter coup in
July 1966.27 The latter action placed Lt. Col.Yakubu Gowon in power
as the head of the military government of Nigeria, with his rank elevated to general. Conflict arose between Gowon, a northerner, and Lt.
Col. Emeka Ojukwu, the military administrator of Nigeria’s Eastern
Region. Ojukwu demanded that Gowon acknowledge his role in a
1966 massacre of the Igbo and also objected to Gowon leading
Nigeria’s government, as Gowon was not the most senior army officer.28 Ojukwu declared the establishment of the Republic of Biafra on
May 31, 1967.Tensions escalated until the first shot was fired on July
6, 1967, at Gaken on the northern border of the Eastern Region, plunging Nigeria into civil war.
The war, which was centered in Biafra and thus greatly affected the
Igbo, left more than a million people dead. It ended when Ojukwu
fled to the Ivory Coast on January 9, 1970, and his second in command, Lt. Col. Philip Effiong, surrendered two days later.
Thirty months of war in Biafra resulted in ruined buildings, massive
unemployment and poverty, and people suffering the physical and
psychological effects of bombing, starvation, and disease.29 The East
Central State, for example, could only reabsorb 34,000 workers, leav27
For details of the causes of the Nigerian Civil War, see H. Kirk Green, Crisis and
Conflict in Nigeria: A Documentary Source Book, 1968–1970 (London, 1970); Siyan
Oyeweso, ed., Perspectives on the Nigerian Civil War (Lagos, Nigeria, 1992).
28
Ojukwu made his position clear at a January 1967 meeting in Aburi, Ghana. For
details of this meeting, see Eastern Region of Nigeria, Ministry of Information, Minutes
of the Meeting of the Nigerian Military Leaders in Aburi, Ghana, January 4–5, 1967,
Official Documents, no. 5, 1967, no.W.T. 1000, 36710, 10,000.
29
Jacinta Nwaka,“Biafran Women and the Nigerian Civil War: Challenges and Survival
Strategies,” African Peace and Conflict Journal, 4, no. 1 (2011), 34–46; Eno Ikpe,
“Migration, Starvation and Humanitarian Intervention during the Nigerian Civil War,”
The Lagos Historical Review, 27 (2001), 82–93.

BY JACINTA CHIAMAKA NWAKA

87

ing 800,000 unemployed.30 Of the more than 2 million people who
returned to the region in 1966, less than half could be supported by
their families. The rest were housed in refugee camps, schools, and
town halls. There were about 33,000 disabled persons, 44,000
orphans, and 89,000 destitute individuals who required services at
the end of the war.31 The Owerri area alone had about 200 ex-Biafran
blind soldiers. Many children had lost one or both parents, or had parents unable to care for them.The state of affairs was such that a thirtytwo-year-old woman was caught at the Ochanja Market in Onitsha
trying to sell her one-year-old child.32
In addition, prostitution that became a common practice during
the war continued unabated in the postwar period, with the hotels
Idoto and Ikenga becoming notorious as residences of prostitutes.As
authors Chimamanda Adichie, Chinua Achebe, and Tony Ubesie
depicted, women who had turned to rich men and soldiers during the
war were not forgiven by their husbands for their actions and thus
could not return to their spouses.33
Furthermore, theft and armed robbery were rampant. Livestock
were reportedly taken when the owners were out or asleep. Agnes
Chigbo of Egbengwu Nimo in Njikoka,Anambra State, stated that four
hens she bought from Orie-Nimo were stolen in August 1970.34
Similarly, Paul Okose from Nnobi lamented that his two sheep were
taken from the nearby bush, leaving only the ropes with which they
had been tied.35 Given the state of the economy, such thefts of farm
animals could be devastating to their impoverished owners.
The Church thus faced a complex situation in terms of ministering
effectively to the people and navigating a difficult political and social
30
National Archives Enugu (hereafter referred to as NAE), FRP XII, “No Job for
800,000 in East Central,” Lagos Daily Times, June 14, 1971, p. 32.
31
Paul Obi-Ani, Post–Civil War Social and Economic Reconstruction of Igboland,
1970–1983 (Enugu, Nigeria,1998), p. 23.
32
NAE, FRP XII,“Woman Held as She Negotiates to Sell Her Baby,” Lagos Daily Times,
January 16, 1971, p. 1.
33
Chimamanda Adichie, Half of a Yellow Sun (New York, 2006); Chinua Achebe,
Girls at War and Other Stories (London, 1972); Tony Ubesie, Isi Akwu Dara N’Ala
[The Palm Nut That Touches the Ground Has Licked the Dust] (Ibadan, 1973).
34
ASON, no. 27, Interview with eighty-four-year-old Mrs.Agnes Chigbo of Egbengwu,
Nimo, July 14, 2008.
35
ASON, Interview with Paul Okose (eighty-year-old ex-Biafran soldier of the 12th
Division) of Nnobi, April 26, 2008 (DR).

88

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH AND THE NIGERIAN CIVIL WAR

climate. It had to provide physical and spiritual nourishment to feed
a starving people while fostering the achievement of personal independence, revive moral and spiritual values threatened by the grim
postwar environment, and combat the rise of occult practitioners and
charismatic prayer houses that the Church feared exploited less educated individuals.36 As Godwin Ikeobi notes, “the upsurge of prayer
houses gained uncontrollable momentum after the war … By definition, they thrived better in the midst of problems and confusion, and
the difficulties and confusion following the war was just terrible.”37
Yet the Church’s humanitarian aid during the war and its dominance
of the educational system had significant repercussions that affected
its ability to carry out its mission.38
One consequence was the East Central State of Nigeria’s assumption of control of schools operated by private agencies, including mission schools. On December 31, 1970, Ukpabi Asika, the administrator
of the East Central State, issued Public Education Edict No. 2.39 This
edict brought all schools in the region under government control—a
serious blow to religious organizations, particularly the Catholic
Church, which “served the cause of educating the people more energetically than all other mission groups in [the] Eastern Region.”40
The threat of government takeover of schools was not a new development, as evidenced by the Education Code of 1926 and the UPE
effort of 1957. As Cooke notes, such a threat “hung like a Damoclean

36
Ogbu Kalu,“Religion in Nigeria: An Overview,”in Nigeria since Independence: The
First Twenty-Five Years, Vol. IX: Religion, ed. J. A. Atanda, G.Ashiwaju, and Y. Abubakar
(Ibadan, 1989), pp. 11–24.
37
Godwin Ikeobi, a priest of the Archdiocese of Onitsha, hailed from Nnobi in the
Anambra State of southeastern Nigeria. He was the first in the archdiocese to initiate
the healing prayer sessions known as “the Tuesday Prayer.” Other priests in Igboland
who had a problem-solving prayer ministry similar to that of Ikeobi were Emmanuel
Edeh, C.S.Sp., of the Diocese of Port Harcourt, as well as Stephen Njoku and Ejike
Mbaka of the Diocese of Enugu. For details on the sessions known as Tuesday Prayer,
see Godwin Ikeobi,“Catholic Response to the Challenges of ‘Prayer Houses’: Origin of
the ‘Tuesday Prayer’ in Onitsha,” in The Catholic Church in Onitsha, ed. Vincent A.
Nwosu (Onitsha, Nigeria, 1985), pp. 262–75.
38
For details of the Church’s relief program during the war, see Nwaka,“The Catholic
Church and the Nigerian Civil War,” pp. 143–98.
39
Eastern Region, Ministry of Information, Public Education Edict, 1970, No. 2 of
1971 (Enugu, Nigeria, 1971).
40
David B. Abernethy, The Political Dilemma of Popular Education (Stanford,
1969), p. 30.

BY JACINTA CHIAMAKA NWAKA

89

sword over the Catholic Missions in Nigeria from the early nineteenfifties.”41 Confirming this impression,Afigbo writes:
The East Central State Public Education Edict of 1971 was not, in spite of
popular belief, a bolt from the blue. On the contrary it was the longdelayed result of an educational policy that had been in gestation for long.
(sic)42

Because the people of eastern Nigeria were preoccupied with the
array of ills previously mentioned, the only public reaction to the
government’s move came via pastoral letters from the bishops of
eastern Nigeria and a few criticisms from other clergy. It is therefore
easy to agree with Onwubiko that the most effective strategy in the
government takeover of schools was the timing.43 With the move to
secularization in education and the Church’s loss of authority, there
was a rise in juvenile delinquency and a decline in student academic
performance, teacher performance, and other education-related
activities.44
In addition to the loss of mission schools, the Church faced a shortage of personnel. Foreign missionaries were expelled at the end of the
civil war.The federal military government of Nigeria believed that the
missionaries in Biafra took a pro-Biafra stand during the war, which, it
argued, was largely responsible for prolonging the war.45 To understand the effect of this expulsion, it is important to note the ratio of
foreign missionaries, especially the Spiritans, to native-born clergy in
Igboland on the eve of the war.The Order in 1967 had fifteen priests
41
Colman M. Cooke,“Church, State and Education:The Eastern Nigeria Experience,
1950–1967,” in Christianity in Independent Africa, ed. Edward Fasholé-Luke, Richard
Gray, Adrian Hastings, and Godwin Tasie (Bloomington, IN, 1978), pp. 193–206, here
p. 193.
42
Adiele Afigbo, “The Missions, the State and Education in South-Eastern Nigeria,
1956–1971,” in Fasholé-Luke et al., eds., Christianity in Independent Africa, pp.
176–92, here p. 177.
43
Onwubiko,“The Catholic Church and Development of Education,” p. 265.
44
For more on the effects of the government takeover of schools, see Vincent A.
Nwosu, “The Civil War Years: A Time of Great Trial,” in Obi, A Hundred Years of the
Catholic Church, pp. 367–75; K. B. C. Onwubiko, “The Catholic Church and the
Development of Education,” pp. 234–76; Hypolite Adigwe, “Onitsha Archdiocesan
Pastoral Council 1971–1984: A Survey,” in The Catholic Church in Onitsha, pp.
276–307; Francis Nnalue Akukwe, “The Catholic Church and Social Development in
Eastern Nigeria,” in The Catholic Church in Onitsha, pp. 216–61.
45
For details on the Church and the government of Nigeria in the civil war, see
Nwaka,“The Catholic Church and Conflict Management.”

90

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH AND THE NIGERIAN CIVIL WAR

and two bishops from Nigeria and 300 expatriate missionaries.46 The
Archdiocese of Onitsha had seventy-three foreign clergy and sixteen
indigenous priests; the Diocese of Owerri had ninety-one foreign
clergy and fifteen local priests.With the expulsion of the missionaries,
there were insufficient personnel for ministry, and thus the role of the
laity in evangelization—reinforced by the Second Vatican Council’s
endorsement of a larger lay presence in such work—was given serious attention.
Other events also promoted the formation of lay groups.The World
Congresses of the Lay Apostolate in 1951, 1957, and 1967 considered
the objectives of coordinated lay groups.47 The African Malagasy
Seminar, held in Accra, Ghana, on August 11–18, 1971, had the theme
“the commitment of the laity in the growth of the church and the
integral development of Africa.” Following the seminar was a meeting
of the Pan-African Malagasy Provincial Committee of the Laity in
Rome on March 22–26, 1972. These events paved the way for the
emergence of a renewed laity organization in Nigeria at the national,
provincial, diocesan, and parish levels. Commenting on the need for a
well-organized laity in Nigeria, Ojo writes:
We call on all our laity to be both active and present in the church.We call
on the hierarchy to recognize this dawn of a new era when Africans, the
lay in particular, are being called to become missionaries to themselves…48

Consequently, the National Laity Council of Nigeria (NLCN) was inaugurated in March 1973.There also were actions in Igboland consistent
with the nationwide effort for a more organized lay presence such as
the establishment of the Onitsha Archdiocesan Lay Apostolate
Council in 1971.49 Other dioceses in the region formed similar coordinating entities, spurred by the problems of the postwar period.
According to Okon:
Owing to the scarcity of priests at the end of the civil war, Bishop [Mark
Onwuha] Unegbu had to turn to and rely heavily on the laity to continue
467

Eke, In the Footsteps of Our Founder, p. 194.
G. J. Afolabi Ojo,“Emergence of Laity Organizations in Nigeria,” in The History of
the Catholic Church in Nigeria, ed. A. Makozi and G. J. Afolabi Ojo (Lagos, Nigeria,
1982), pp. 71–86.
48
Ojo,“Emergence of Laity Organizations in Nigeria.”
49
AASON, Circular Letter to All Priests, Religious and People of Onitsha Archdiocese
on the Constitution of the Lay Apostolate Councils (Onitsha, April II, 1971), File no. 49.
47

BY JACINTA CHIAMAKA NWAKA

91

the great task of evangelization in the vast Diocese of Owerri.The practical application of the Vatican II’s Decree on the Apostolate of the laity is
perhaps the most innovative and most successful aspect of Bishop
Unegbu’s administration.50

These diocesan bodies eventually were brought under the NLCN.
During the postwar period, the most prominent lay groups in
Igboland included the CWO, Legion of Mary, St. Anthony’s Guild, St.
Jude’s Society, St. Vincent de Paul Society, and the Block Rosary
Crusade.
The CWO under leaders such as Mrs.V.V. I. Okoye (Archdiocese of
Onitsha), Mrs. Rose Njoku (Diocese of Owerri), Mrs. Catherine Okpala
(Diocese of Abakaliki), and Mrs. Theresa Ike (Diocese of Abakaliki)
expanded in the ecclesiastical province, helped by a membership
requirement for Catholic mothers. Their activities included distributing livestock to poor women, establishing bakeries and facilities for
garri processing (to make a form of flour) for widows in Agulu and
Ozubulu, supplying food to diocesan junior seminaries, holding premarriage and marriage courses as well as classes on morals for young
mothers and other women, and setting up training centers and hotels
for women such as the Bethany House in Onitsha and Villa Maria in
Owerri.51 The members of the CWO (through the Parent-Teachers
Association) pursued the right of their children to religious education
in government schools. Members of the CWO joined female colleagues from other areas in the struggle against the legalization of
abortion in the country. A special status known as “life member” was
created to honor women whose lives as Christian mothers were considered to be exemplary.52
Another lay apostolate group tackling the postwar challenges in
Igboland was St. Anthony’s Guild, which distributed achicha umu
ogbenye (bread for the poor) and had a special resonance for the
people in the association of the society’s patron, St.Anthony of Padua,
with the recovery of lost items. The guild attracted many members
hoping for the return of their missing loved ones from the war.
50
F. Okon,“Expansion and Consolidation: Growth in Onitsha, Calabar, Owerri, Ogoja
and Umuahia,” in Obi, ed., A Hundred Years of the Catholic Church, pp. 173–223, here
p. 212.
51
Nwosu,“The Laity and Church Growth,” p. 351.
52
A. C. Nwagbogu, “Catholic Women’s Organization, Onitsha, Meaning of Life
Membership,” in Trinitas, July 1979, p. 71.

92

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH AND THE NIGERIAN CIVIL WAR

Similarly, those who were victims of theft sought the recovery of their
items through the intercession of St.Anthony.53
St. Jude’s Society also increased in size. Because the patron saint of
the society was associated with seemingly hopeless causes, widows
experiencing difficulties with their children and other relatives
sought the intercession of St. Jude by joining the society.54 The St.
Vincent de Paul Society, known for soliciting donations on behalf of
the poor, also gained support during this period. It made small boxes
that were kept at strategic positions inside churches and bore the
inscription “help the poor.” The proceeds were distributed to the
poor—Catholics and non-Catholics alike.55
Another lay group that played a significant role in the postwar
period was the Block Rosary Crusade. Although its precise origins in
the area are unclear,56 it became a viable instrument of evangelization
after the civil war.Adigwe noted:“The Block Rosary Crusade has done
wonderful work in the religious education of our children, particularly since after the war. It is very effective in collecting children, praying with them and teaching them the faith.”57 Some senior seminarians devoted their long vacations to visiting Block Rosary Centers and
providing religious and moral instruction to children. These interactions with seminarians may have encouraged boys and girls to enter
junior seminaries, for there was an increase in the number of individuals pursuing religious vocations in Igboland in the first decade following the war.
The Legion of Mary also made a significant contribution to the
Church’s evangelization and charitable work in the postwar period.
53

AASON, Lay Apostolate file no. 49. According to the weekly meeting registers of
St. Anthony of Padua’s Guild in St. Anthony’s Catholic Church, Dunukofia, and St.
Andrew’s Catholic Church, Adazi (both in the Archdiocese of Onitsha), there was an
increase of more than 90 percent between 1970 and 1972. This figure suggests that
people began to believe more in the efficacy of St.Anthony’s intercession.
54
Archives of the Immaculate Heart of Mary Sisters, Onitsha (AIHMSO), 003,
Interview with eighty-four-year-old Mrs. Patricia Osuji, former secretary, St. Jude’s
Society,Awka-Etiti, at St. Joseph’s Catholic Church,Awka Etiti, on December 9, 2006.
55
The practice continues today in Igboland. Small wooden boxes are kept at church
entrances for people to leave donations for the poor.
56
The origin of this movement is still a matter of dispute. Some claim it started in
Onitsha, whereas others state that it originated from Aba. See Nwosu, “The Laity and
Church Growth,” p. 361.
57
Adigwe,“Onitsha Archdiocesan Pastoral Council,” p. 303.

BY JACINTA CHIAMAKA NWAKA

93

Members of this group preached, visited the homes of lapsed
Catholics and new converts, and reached out to the aged and the ill in
hospitals and private residences. Their works of mercy so endeared
them to the people that their membership swelled, resulting in the
establishment of committees. In some parishes, there were about
three to four committees.58
In addition, the interaction of lay organizations with the people led
to increased communication between the Church and followers of
the African Traditional Religion. Discussed within the lay groups were
issues such as the ozo title (a tradition within Igbo society that establishes religious and social rank for individuals),59 oath-taking
(igbandu), secret societies that included the ogboni, and the relationship between Catholics and non-Christians. Previously, such matters had been contentious because they only had been addressed by
the (largely foreign) clergy.With the opportunity for the lay faithful to
air their opinions via the fora provided by lay organizations, serious
dialogue could be conducted between the Church and the followers
of the African Traditional Religion.The view of Bishop Shanahan that
the traditional religion was not so much incorrect as incomplete
began to register for both laity and clergy. As Adigwe noted, the laity
and pastoral councils took up some issues. For instance, it was agreed
that the ozo title would not be regarded as part of the traditional religion; the terms pagan and idolatry were too harsh and inaccurate to
be applied to the traditional religion; and the general attitude of practicing Catholics toward others outside the faith should be one of charity, with efforts directed toward repentance rather than intolerance
(as previously had been the case).60
In contrast to the pre–civil war societies, these lay groups were
under one central body at the parish, zonal, diocesan, and national
levels; those with common aims and objectives were merged to minimize the potential for rivalries. Every society had representatives on
the parish laity council. From this council, representatives were sent
to the zonal council, the zonal representatives composed the diocesan
laity council, and so on. Similarly, every group held meetings at various levels—parish, zonal, diocesan, provincial, and national. Activities
were coordinated so that, for example, what the St. Anthony’s Guild
58

Nwosu,“The Laity and Church Growth,” p. 353.
Ilogu, Christianity and Igbo Culture, p. 31.
60
Adigwe,“Onitsha Archdiocesan Pastoral Council,” p. 283.

59

94

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH AND THE NIGERIAN CIVIL WAR

in Queen of Apostles Parish, Olokolo, Umuahia, was doing was similar
to that of its counterpart in Nsukka.61 Full, active membership was
encouraged, with the exception of societies such as the Legion of
Mary that had a category of auxiliary membership. The operation of
lay organizations mostly became the responsibility of the membership rather than the clergy during this period.62 However, every group
had a spiritual director who was a priest, a brother, or a nun.
Furthermore, many educated men and women were encouraged to
join the societies and assist in coordinating their affairs.
With the assistance of these lay groups, the Catholic Church could
do much to confront the challenges of the period. As Ikeobi rightly
observed, the expulsion of the missionaries and the government
takeover of mission schools paved the way for the development of
lay organizations and the use of catechism as a viable tool of evangelization.63 Such growth was reflected in the establishment of new
dioceses such as Abakaliki in 1973, Awka in 1978, and Orlu and
Okigwe in 1981. However, although the number of the churchgoers
burgeoned, the rate of crime increased.64 Therefore, it could be
argued that the Church, partly through the work of lay groups in
Igboland, succeeded in postwar efforts related to evangelization and
ministry to the poor, but could not surmount certain problems such
as personnel shortages to instill proper moral, family, and religious
values on a large scale.
Conclusion
Lay organizations in Igboland evolved in three phases. During the
first stage, with participation by individuals rather than by organized
groups, the laity was peripheral in the work of evangelization. Lay
groups assumed a larger role during the second phase, but a lack of
coordination limited their impact on evangelization.The exigencies of
the postwar period shaped the third phase, in which coordinated
61

Adigwe,“Onitsha Archdiocesan Pastoral Council,” pp. 279–88.
Nwosu,“The Laity and Church Growth,” p. 358.
63
Godwin Ikeobi, cited in Nwosu,“Archdiocese of Onitsha since 1970,” p. 198.
64
E. Okafor, “South East: A Hot Bed of Crime,” http://www.gamji.com/article9000/
NEWS9177.htm, accessed Nov. 5, 2012; Leo Sobechi,“Southeast Governors Begin Work
against Socioeconomic Crime,” The Guardian [Nigeria], September 4, 2012, p. 4; Press
Release of Vincent Valentine Ezeonyia, C.S.Sp., bishop of Aba, on the alleged involvement of a Catholic priest in kidnapping, http://www.cbcn-ng.org/newsdetail.php?
tab=7, accessed on Nov. 8, 2012,
62

BY JACINTA CHIAMAKA NWAKA

95

activities and the need for the complementary role of the laity in the
Church and society were highlighted.
It could therefore be argued that the loss of mission schools to the
government, expulsion of missionaries, and socioeconomic challenges in the postwar period ended the peripheral role of the laity in
the evangelization of Igboland. Consequently, the Church’s astronomical growth during this period enabled it to withstand a rising tide of
religious proliferation, particularly Pentecostalism. Instead of the
priest as the central figure, the laity in Igboland today, it can be
argued, is indeed the pillar of the Church.The place of Igboland as the
largest region of Catholics in Nigeria gives credence to this position.
A question remains, however—to what extent has the gospel message permeated the minds of the Igbo population that have embraced
Christianity/Catholicism? In other words, forty years after the expulsion of the missionaries, has the local Church (the laity and the clergy)
in Igboland been able to defeat the gods of the Igbo, which (as Ogbu
Kalu argued) remained triumphant despite the efforts of organized
religion?65

65

Ogbu Kalu, The Embattled Gods: Christianization of Igboland, 1841–1991
(Trenton, NJ, 1993).

BOOK REVIEWS
________
General and Miscellaneous
Science and Eastern Orthodoxy: From the Greek Fathers to the Age of Globalization. By Efthymios Nicolaidis. Translated by Susan Emanuel. [Medicine, Science, and Religion in Historical Context]. (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
University Press. 2011. Pp. xx, 252. $55.00. ISBN 978-1-4214-0298-7.)
Recent discussions on the relation between religion and science in various
historical contexts have mitigated an earlier view, influenced by
Enlightenment anticlericalism, that this encounter was generally inimical.The
volume under review offers Greek-speaking Eastern Orthodoxy as an example inviting further reflection on this problem. It also partly redresses the lack
of any monograph on Byzantine science (pp. 197–202), generated by a widely
shared perception that Byzantium was marginal to developments in world
history and that the Byzantine legacy of the entire Orthodox world (Greek,
Slavic, or other) is incompatible with and obstructive to modernity.
Accordingly, researching the sciences among Orthodox Christians under
Ottoman rule meant measuring Greek progress toward modernity and eventually explaining what led to the creation of a modern Greek nation-state.
The Byzantine period (fourth to fifteenth century) is covered in approximately 100 pages, whereas another 100 are dedicated to subsequent developments among Greek-speaking orthodox Christians until the end of the
twentieth century (geopolitically covering the Ottoman lands, Eastern and
Western Europe, and Greece since its independence in 1830). Conceived and
completed within four years (p. xii), this volume is admirably succinct. Its
author, who acknowledges the difficulties generated by the dearth of existing
research on the subject and the complexity of the issues involved, deserves
gratitude for producing the only comprehensive reference available to scholars working both within and outside the fields it directly covers.
The volume focuses on the aspects of science where later developments
led to the so-called scientific revolution: the constitution of the world as a
physical entity and its function in astronomical terms, especially planetary
motion. It implicitly assumes that the definition of science and its distinction
from “pseudo-science” remained stable throughout the seventeen centuries it
covers and was approximately the same as the modern one.
The author repeats ideas found in secondary literature instead of scrutinizing and reformulating them. As a result, the book reproduces earlier inter96

BOOK REVIEWS

97

pretations of Byzantine culture abandoned by Byzantinists and occasionally
includes factual errors. For example, chapter 2 contrasts the spherical universe of a postulated Alexandrian school, derived from “Hellenic” sources and
embraced by highbrow culture, with the flat universe of an Antiochian
school based on “Asiatic” sources and propagated by monks and the lower
clergy in “popular” texts such as lives of saints. This contrast is no longer tenable, especially since what the author describes as the “popular” and “primitive” angelology of the Antiochian school (p. 31) is, in fact, a key ingredient
of a particularly highbrow medieval endeavor: the ninth-century translations
of Greek material into Arabic by Hunayn b. Ishaq and his associates, who routinely rendered the ancient gods of the pagan texts as angels. This reflected
a philosophical tradition embraced by both pagans and Christians in late
antiquity and beyond: the derivation of cosmology from the allegorical interpretation of ancient mythology. The book’s negative assessment of Byzantine
culture during iconoclasm (seventh–ninth centuries) ignores its positive reevaluation by recent scholarship.The account of Byzantine-Arab astrological
exchanges during this period is muddled and inaccurate regarding the
careers of the elusive Stephen (of Alexandria, Athens, and so forth) and
Theophilos of Edessa (not a Greek Orthodox astrologer who immigrated
from Byzantium to the caliphate, but a Syrian Christian born in Muslim lands
and active at the court of caliph al-Mahdi). Two very distinct literary forms,
hagiography and the Erotapokriseis (teaching manuals in question-andanswer form) are conflated (p. 54). Psellos is presented as a reader of predominantly “pagan” literature, which presumably led to a subsequent need
for Emperor Alexios I to “re-Christianize” Byzantine education; this interpretation disregards Psellos’s extensive engagement with patristic literature and
generally distorts the outlook of eleventh-century Byzantine education. The
author states that, in the fourteenth century, Theodore Metochites “hoped to
purify [Byzantine astronomy] of Oriental—that is, Islamic—influences and
clearly demarcate it from astrology” (p. 86). However, Metochites explicitly
referred to his Persian-trained teacher, while his own student, Nikephoros
Gregoras, was summoned for astrological advice by the court on at least one
occasion. In chapter 9 the author presents George Gemistos-Plethon as a
pagan without considering the doubts expressed by modern scholarship due
to the paucity of the pertinent evidence and the meaning of the label pagan
in the fifteenth century.
In general, the book reproduces an old-fashioned view of Byzantine civilization as introverted, unable to receive knowledge from the outside, and
endlessly imitating ancient authorities without creatively engaging with
them. Consequently, innovation in Byzantine philosophy and science is seen
primarily as the result of the Fourth Crusade that led to the sack of
Constantinople in 1204 and the distribution of Byzantine territories among
different Crusader leaders, events that forced a Byzantine encounter with
Latin literary production (p. 73, pp. 113 ff.). Such a view was popular in the
modern study of Byzantine belletristic activity, and especially the composi-

98

BOOK REVIEWS

tion of novels, until a generation ago and has since been revised; its applicability to Byzantine science is contradicted by evidence presented elsewhere
in the book, such as the Byzantine reception of Arabic astronomy in the
ninth and tenth centuries. The book’s discussion of scientific instruments
and astronomical observation in Byzantium leads the reader to contradictory
conclusions: on page 44 is introduced the idea—traceable to O. M. Dalton1—
that “the Byzantines were too theoretical to be concerned with describing
observations made with the aid of instruments, to the point that some historians wonder if they even observed the eclipses they had predicted”; we
are later told that the Byzantines abandoned the manufacture of astronomical instruments, although they continued to produce other mechanical
devices (p. 56). Such conclusions are incompatible with evidence referenced
elsewhere: MS Leidensis BPG 78 (mentioned on p. 55 without fully explaining its significance) records astronomical observations made between 775
and 797/98; in addition, the meticulous calculation of eclipses in the fourteenth century (p. 91) and their importance as omens predicting the fall of
powerful individuals (p. 84) during this period of continuous civil war suggests that the Byzantines regularly observed astronomical phenomena. The
presumed lack of instruments in Byzantium is further projected on Greek
scholars of the Ottoman period such as Chrysanthos Notaras—the instruments of the Jesuit astronomer Ferdinand Verbiest that he encountered in
Russia impressed him because “the only scientific instruments that
Chrysanthos had previously seen or read of were small astrolabes” (p. 150),
although he wrote three treatises on the use of astronomical instruments
informed by Arabic equivalents (the astrolabe, the quadrant, and the timekeeping device known in Arabic as jayb, p. 145).
As for the second half of the book (fifteenth to twentieth century), the
introduction (p. xi) rightly points out that, from 1453 to the end of the eighteenth century, the “new European science” was introduced to the Orthodox
world largely by high-ranking ecclesiastics; and that debates over it “traversed
the whole body of the Orthodox church” (that is, involved broader societal,
political, or personal conflicts). Yet the chapters on these centuries suggest
that “new science” was introduced not through the church’s help but in spite
of its reaction and do not attempt to explain what conflicts beyond “religion
versus science” may have been part of this process. This reflects a tendency
in contemporary Greek historiography to view the history of the Greeks
under Ottoman rule as shaped by two conflicting forces: a forward-thinking,
European-oriented bourgeoisie and a reactionary, Ottoman-oriented church
establishment. Although the introduction implicitly acknowledges this as an
oversimplification, the relevant chapters do not expand but undermine the
introduction’s accurate acknowledgment.

1

O. M. Dalton, “The Byzantine Astrolabe at Brescia,” Proceedings of the British
Academy, 12 (1926), 133–46.

BOOK REVIEWS

99

In spite of these reservations, this reviewer prefers this monograph to a
complete bibliographical void and is grateful to its author for carrying out a
bold, difficult, and thankless task.
University of California, Berkeley

MARIA MAVROUDI

The Flower of Paradise: Marian Devotion and Secular Song in Medieval
and Renaissance Music. By David J. Rothenberg. (New York: Oxford
University Press. 2011. Pp. xviii, 264. $35.00. ISBN 978-0-19-539971-4.)
David J. Rothenberg, associate professor of music at Case Western Reserve
University, based his book substantially on his 2004 Yale dissertation and subsequent articles published in the Journal of Musicology (2004) and the
Journal of the American Musicological Society (2006). His thesis, that
courtly love song traditions and Marian devotions became symbolically linked
in polyphonic motets from the thirteenth century up to the Reformation, is
persuasively defended through analyses of select examples. Although
Rothenberg’s thesis leans heavily on the research of eminent music and liturgical scholars, his primary contribution is his thoughtful synthesis of existing
scholarship presented in a cogent and cohesive narrative.
The book is divided into seven chapters. The first is an informative
overview of medieval secular song traditions, the early motet, and the developing Marian liturgy and devotions. Chapter 2 focuses on thirteenth-century
French motets, specifically those set to tenors (chant fragments) borrowed
from the Marian Feast of the Assumption as practiced at Notre Dame of Paris.
In the French texts sung simultaneously above the motet’s liturgical Latin
tenor, Rothenberg discerns what he calls “secular/sacred signification” (p.
48) that transforms their earthly and often “earthy” love texts into Marian
allegory. Chapter 3 remains in the thirteenth century, sampling a few of many
French motets set to the tenor “In seculum” from the Easter gradual Haec
dies. Here, Rothenberg extends the connection between the French springtime motives and the Resurrection liturgy to include the pastourelle characters Robin and Marion, found in such motets, as representations of Christ and
the Virgin Mary.
The fourteenth century receives little attention except to acknowledge
that the imagery of Guillaume de Machaut’s famous rondeau “Rose, liz, printemps, verdure” exhibits strong Marian overtones.This creates a bridge to the
fifteenth century as chapter 4 examines Guillaume Dufay’s setting of
Petrarch’s canzona “Vergene bella,” pursuing a circuitous discussion that
includes John Dunstable’s cantilena-motet “Quam pulchra es”; Dante
Alighieri’s Commedia, Vita nuova, and De vulgari eloquentia; as well as
Giovanni di Paolo’s manuscript illumination in the Paradiso, which
Rothenberg interprets as a reference to the Marian chant “Ave maris stella.”
Here, Rothenberg missed an opportunity to acknowledge that Dufay’s music

100

BOOK REVIEWS

opens with the same interval as the chant. Walter Frye’s mid-century cantilena-motet “Ave regina caelorum” is the focal point of chapter 5. Despite its
Latin text throughout, Rothenberg agrees with scholars who find it more akin
to a chanson than a motet because of its flower imagery and appearance in
chansonniers. Emphasizing this “crossover,” he refers to contemporaneous
paintings such as Hans Memling’s Madonna and Child showing angel choirs
and instrumentalists reminiscent of the realm of courtly music.
The final chapters examine motets that borrowed from popular chansons
for their cantus firmi, a reverse process to that of the thirteenth-century
motet. Rothenberg attributes the widespread use of Hayne van Ghizeghem’s
popular rondeau “De tous bien plaine” as a motet cantus firmus to an undeniable likeness of the poem’s beloved mistress to the Virgin Mary and the likeness of the poem itself to the popular Marian prayer Ave Maria. Also, he sees
the popularity of the lamenting rondeau “Comme femme desconfortée,” perhaps by Gilles Binchois, as a by-product of the increased interest in the liturgy
of Mary’s Sorrows, Dormition, and Assumption, comparing its imagery to that
of the Stabat mater prayer and Michelangelo’s Pietà sculpture.
Musicologists will benefit greatly from the wealth of information provided
by the book on medieval liturgy, and its copious bibliography and footnotes
make it a valuable reference source for all medieval scholars. More than fifty
score examples illustrate the musical discussions, and the fourteen figures—
although poorly reproduced—accompany Rothenberg’s discussions of
medieval art.
Western Michigan University

MATTHEW STEEL

Meeting in Heaven: Modernising the Christian Afterlife, 1600–2000. By
Bernhard Lang. (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2011. Pp. 166. $41.95. ISBN
978-3-631-62000-7.)
This book can be read as a supplement to Bernhard Lang and Colleen
McDannell’s much valued Heaven: A History (London, 1988). The key to
that work, as to this one, is the distinction between anthropocentric and
theocentric notions of life everlasting, the latter concentrated primarily or
even exclusively on the vision of God, the former on views of life after
death as encompassing communality—especially the reunion of families,
love, and work—in an environment not radically different from that in
which we now live.
Twentieth-century theology may be characterized by an increasing diffidence about elaborating upon the nature of life after death. Until the end of
the seventeenth century, it was dominated by a theology of the afterlife
focused on the beatific vision and the worship of God. Lang’s significant contribution to the history of the afterlife both in this work and in his previous

BOOK REVIEWS

101

one is to draw attention to the development within Western religious thought
since 1600, but especially in the late-eighteenth and nineteenth centuries,
both at the “popular” and “elite” (although occasionally esoteric) levels, of an
afterlife typified by the progress and development of the individual, and by
the re-union in heaven of persons with their loved ones.
This work comprises a series of essays around the theme of the modern
anthropocentric heaven published previously in whole or in part. These
include a somewhat inchoate essay on the modernization of life after death
from 1644 to 1791, an enjoyably provocative reading of the second part of
John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress as suggesting an anthropocentric heaven
with an interesting reading of William Blake’s engraving of The Marriage of
a Family in Heaven as influenced by it, an essay on opposition to the
modern heaven in Spanish writing, and an exploration of American heavens
via cemeteries from 1740 to 1850.
However, the focus of the book is the two essays on the Swedish theologian Emanuel Swedenborg (1688–1772), the first giving a most useful summary of his cosmology, including his elaborate angelology and his views on
heaven and hell; the second on the European reception of Swedenborg with
particular reference to John Wesley, Robert Hindmarsh, and Robert Hartley
(his first English translator).These are important reminders of an eighteenthcentury theologian sufficiently important in his own time to be ridiculed by
Immanuel Kant.
Lang recognizes that his modern idea of heaven has precursors to
Swedenborg, however differently nuanced, in the history of Christianity,
beginning with Cyprian’s treatise On Mortality (AD 252/53) and with
Origen (c. AD 185–254). But in Heaven: A History, Lang and McDannell
claimed that the modern heaven surfaced in the writings of Swedenborg. It
is a matter of regret that neither in that work nor in this one does Lang take
the opportunity to engage in a more complete intellectual genealogy of the
thought of Swedenborg nor, granting the claimed centrality of Swedenborg,
to provide a more extensive argument of his influence on those proponents
of the anthropocentric heaven who succeeded him. Nevertheless, Lang’s
reprising of the modern heaven in this work continues as a valuable
reminder of a view of the afterlife that—although no longer, if ever especially, influential in elite theological circles—continues still to dominate popular Western views of immortality.
University of Queensland

PHILIP C.ALMOND

102

BOOK REVIEWS

Die katholischen Pfarrgemeinden in den USA in Geschichte und
Gegenwart: Eine transatlantische Perspektive. By Kai Reinhold. (Münster:
Aschendorff. 2011. Pp. 436. €29,80. ISBN 978-3-402-12893-0.)
Katholische Kirche und Gemeindeleben in den USA und in Deutschland:
Überraschende Ergebnisse einer ländervergleichenden Umfrage. Edited
by Kai Reinhold and Matthias Sellmann. (Münster: Aschendorff. 2011. Pp.
374. €24,80. ISBN 978-3-402-12888-6.)
Many American historians examine U.S. Catholicism in light of European
Catholicism, looking to the shores of Europe for insights into the former’s history and culture.The recent work of the “Crossing Over Project,” a transatlantic
research initiative sponsored by the Theology Faculty of the Ruhr-Universität
Bochum in Germany, shifts the focus back on U.S. Catholicism from a European
perspective.Through the research of Kai Reinhold (Diocese of Essen), the initiative has collaborated with American scholars in the Chicago area, most
notably the sociologist James D. Davidson of Purdue University. In 2006 the
Institute for Church Life at the University of Notre Dame conducted a new
survey on U.S. Catholic parish life intended to update a national study from the
1980s, employing the aid of Davidson and Princeton Survey Research
Associates. Upon learning of this project, Reinhold and his colleagues in
Bochum sought to replicate the study for Catholicism in Germany. In particular, German Catholic scholars wanted to understand the dynamism of parish
culture in America so as to revitalize parish life in Germany.The joint surveys
gathered statistical data through phone questionnaires of a thousand registered parishioners in the United States and Germany respectively.The results
provided key empirical findings for comparison and analysis on an international level, prompting the publication of the two works under review.
The first book is a revision of Reinhold’s 2010 dissertation on the historical development of parish life in American Catholicism.The work speaks to a
rising interest among German Catholics in the history of U.S. Catholicism.
With this intended audience in mind, Reinhold attempts to fill two lacunae in
scholarship: a dearth of works in German on U.S. Catholicism and the absence
of a historical narrative of the American Catholic parish that ventures beyond
institutional history to incorporate the story and sensibilities of the parishioners themselves. For this joint task, the author divides the work into two
parts. The first addresses the history and post–Second Vatican Council character of the American parish, and the second offers a brief comparative analysis based on the survey outlined above. In many ways, the author’s narrative
in the first part stems from his research work at the University of Notre
Dame, and thus it is little surprise that the reader consistently finds references
to the work of Jay Dolan. Reinhold relies almost exclusively on a typology of
parish development published by Dolan and Jeffrey Burns.1 This typology
1

Jay Dolan and Jeffrey Burns,“The Parish in the American Past,” in Parish:A Place for
Worship, ed. Mark Searle (Collegeville, MN, 1981), pp. 51–62.

BOOK REVIEWS

103

traces a shift from the “congregational parish” of John Carroll and John
England to the “devotional parish” of immigrant and early-twentieth-century
U.S. Catholicism that finally emerges as a thoroughly “voluntary parish” after
the reforms of the Second Vatican Council.There is much truth to this typology, but the author’s narrative seems to overemphasize this trend and neglects other expressions of voluntaryism in nineteenth-century American
Catholicism. Although he acknowledges regional disparities in U.S.
Catholicism, Reinhold’s analysis could further benefit from a closer examination of how parish participation varies according to region and ethnicity,
especially amid the exponential growth of Latino Catholics in the American
Southwest. Nevertheless, the book is a welcome study of parish life in the
United States from a German perspective, and the American reader will be
intrigued by Reinhold’s desire to introduce American Catholic models of
stewardship and small communities into German Catholic parish life.
The second, edited work provides empirical support for Reinhold’s belief
that German Catholics can learn from the vitality of American Catholic voluntaryism at the parish level. Like Reinhold’s monograph, this edited collection is divided into two sections: nine analytical essays followed by a thorough compilation of statistical charts. Although the second half will appeal
primarily to sociologists, the first half presents a variety of perspectives in history, sociology, political science, and pastoral theology. Any American reader
will find Davidson’s succinct chapter on the survey’s history, findings, and
social implications to be helpful (it is the only one in English). Overall, the
survey reflects a greater satisfaction in parish life among American Catholics
in comparison to their German brethren. Nevertheless, almost all of the
authors note a “surprise” in the data. Challenging common rhetoric about the
irrelevance of the parish in a transient, global society, the study discovered
that the vast majority of Catholics on both sides of the Atlantic still view their
parish community as integral to their Catholic identity. This result surprised
many of the German authors, particularly in light of a precipitous decline in
church attendance in Western Europe. In a similar vein, the survey identified
a remarkable enthusiasm for parish life among many younger American and
German Catholics—something unexpected to many of the authors.The final
chapters on pastoral and liturgical implications are particularly insightful for
any Anglophone theologian who can navigate the German. As the editors
readily admit, the survey reflects a need for further research. One only hopes
that these two German publications will inspire new studies and greater
transatlantic collaboration.
Marquette University

PAUL G. MONSON

BOOK REVIEWS

105

intertwined with being—themes consistent with the revised earlier dating of
the material.
Critics will find easy marks in Chiapparini’s book. He disregards the Nag
Hammadi material associated with Valentinianism, treating it as late and derivative (A Valentinian Exposition [NH XI:2] is conspicuously absent from the
commentary). In addition, he contrasts Irenaeus’s dispassionate Grand Notice
with subsequent sarcastic rejoinders and argues that they represent two
phases of writing, reflecting the emergence of a sharp distinction between
heresy and orthodoxy in the late-second century. But this approach would
require one also to date the dispassionate summary of the teachings of
Marcus Magus (I:14.1–15.3) to c. 160 and the saucy rebuttal (I:15.4–6) to the
170s—a rather absurd scenario, and a signal that Irenaeus (like the other early
heresiologists) knew how to move between précis and lampoon.
Even the sharpest critic will acknowledge that Chiapparini has opened a
vital new front in the study of second-century orthodoxy and heresy. His
study cannot be ignored.Where his conclusions are rejected, his philological
method will need to be grappled with, if not adopted. His analysis deserves to
be applied to the entirety of Against Heresies 1, most of which has parallel
Greek fragments. His assessment that the ancient Latin translation reflects
theological concerns from the fourth century will be profitably read by scholars who deal with other parts of Against Heresies. In sum, this is a rich, important study.
Dumbarton Oaks
Washington, DC

JOEL KALVESMAKI

A Threat to Public Piety: Christians, Platonists, and the Great Persecution.
By Elizabeth DePalma Digeser. (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. 2012.
Pp. xviii, 218. $45.00. ISBN 978-0-8014-4181-3.)
Developing arguments advanced in several previously published articles,
Elizabeth DePalma Digeser has produced what amounts to a rewriting of
Greek intellectual history in the third century of our era. According to
Digeser, Ammonius Saccas was not only the teacher of both the Christian
Origen and Plotinus the neo-Platonist but also the fountainhead of Greek
philosophical thought in the third century. She asserts that “Lactantius,
Arnobius, Eusebius, and Methodius all wrote in response to Porphyry, and all
were Christians who had connections to Ammonius Saccas, either through
Origen or through Porphyry himself” (p. 5). Digeser identifies the Origen of
Porphyry’s Life of Plotinus (who “wrote nothing except treatises ‘On
demons’ and ‘that the King is the sole creator’”—the latter in the reign of
Gallienus—and attended Plotinus’s seminars in Rome [3:30–32, 14:20–25])
with the prolific Christian writer Origen, who died at the age of almost seventy before Valerian and his son Gallienus became emperors. She also identi-

106

BOOK REVIEWS

fies the blind philosopher in Nicomedia in 303—whom Lactantius derided as
rich, avaricious, and lustful; as a glutton who dined better at home than he did
in the palace of Diocletian; as a man who ingratiated himself with officials to
seize both the land and houses of his neighbours; and as someone who was
blind and “did not know where to place his feet” one in front of the other
(Lactantius, Divine Institutes 5:2.2–3, 9)—as none other than Porphyry, the
disciple and editor of Plotinus. Moreover, she sees both the polemic between
Porphyry and Iamblichus and disagreements between Porphyry and
Methodius of Olympus as representing “schism in the Ammonian community”
(p. 98).
The book contains many illuminating and suggestive individual observations. But is its historical reconstruction correct? Space considerations permit
mention of only a few obvious problems. Digeser evaluates Porphyry’s Life of
Plotinus as “a bios, a genre that in antiquity, whether in the hands of Plutarch
or Suetonius, presented its subject as a moral exemplar for good or for ill”
(73). But Porphyry’s Life is primarily an introduction to the Enneads—that is,
to Porphyry’s edition of Plotinus’s works thirty years after his death—and
Digeser seems not to have noticed that this work, to which Porphyry appears
to have given the title “About the Life of Plotinus and the Order of His Books,”
adopts a strange and idiosyncratic biographical schema that implies that all of
Plotinus’s best work was written under Porphyry’s own inspiration (as this
reviewer has pointed out1). Second, Digeser seems unaware of Thomas Hägg’s
proof2 that the author of the Contra Hieroclem was not Eusebius of Caesarea
in Palestine, but an otherwise unknown sophist of the same name in northeastern Asia Minor. Hence Digeser is mistaken when she locates Sossianus
Hierocles “in Antioch shortly before 303” and argues that, since Porphyry
“probably first sent” his anti-Christian writings to Iamblichus in nearby
Daphne,“from there they could have quickly found their way into the hands
of the administrators, priests and diviners of this capital city” such as
Hierocles himself (p. 8).
Digeser reiterates her identification of Porphyry as the philosopher who
“vomited out” his three books “against the Christian religion and name in
Nicomedia in the spring of 303” (Lactantius, Divine Institutes 5:2.4). To do
so, she rejects this reviewer’s argument that Lactantius must mean that the
philosopher whom Lactantius heard was literally blind, not merely morally or
metaphorically blind, with the claim that this “literal reading” fails to see that
the “passage pointing to Porphyry parodies the philosopher Thales in Plato’s
Theaetetus 174a” (5n14). Unfortunately, Digeser fails to provide any details of

1
Timothy D. Barnes, Rev. of P. Cox’s Biography in Late Antiquity, Classical Review,
new ser., 35 (1985), 197–98, here 198.
2
Thomas Hägg,“Hierocles the Lover of Truth and Eusebius the Sophist,” Symbolae
Osloenses, 67 (1992), 138–50.

BOOK REVIEWS

107

her reasoning on this point. Let us grant that Lactantius alludes to Plato. But
the Theaetetus presents Thales as absent-mindedly thinking about the heavens when he fell into a well. Hence a fuller explanation of Digeser’s counterargument would surely have helped her readers to understand how she constructed it and how she supposes it to work.
University of Edinburgh

TIMOTHY D. BARNES

A Sacred Kingdom: Bishops and the Rise of Frankish Kingship, 300–850. By
Michael Edward Moore. [Studies in Medieval and Early Modern Canon Law,
Vol. 8.] (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 2011.
Pp. xii, 434. $69.95. ISBN 978-0-8132-1877-9.)
What if one were to write a book about a small social group, using almost
exclusively sources from that group? What would such a book look like? It
might argue that the group thus chosen was a singularly important and influential one, one that affected all aspects of society. It might argue that the
group should actually be in charge of society, and when it came closest to
holding that position, everything was optimal for everyone. Calling for a
“return to [Louis] Duchesne” (p. 13), Michael Edward Moore has cast the
bishops of late-antique Gaul and Francia as his central characters, but perhaps
more than the renowned French church historian, it is Walter Ullmann whose
long shadow is cast across every chapter.
The introduction sketches out the major themes of the book—kings and
bishops influenced one another, and Christian kingship, which Moore
believes dominated western Europe by the sixth century and which reached
its apotheosis during the reign of Charlemagne and Louis the Pious, can be
seen as the royal adoption of episcopal ideals that bishops had formulated in
late antiquity; and that the ongoing concern of the Gallo-Roman and Frankish
episcopacy was the formulation in canon law of an episcopal “social doctrine.” By this, Moore seems to mean that bishops, in their own law, claimed
that the tradition they represented was ancient, going back to the Apostles
and beyond; that their authority was incontrovertible; that they had exclusive
rights to protect and defend holy places; and that the land and wealth which
they and their various churches so assiduously collected was theirs to use and
control.
The first two chapters trace the formation and development of the lateantique episcopacy in Gaul. Drawing on the work of scholars such as Claudia
Rapp, Moore argues that we should take seriously the claims of ascetic
prowess that Gallic bishops made and that it was precisely such holiness that
imbued them with the authority to create canon law. He fittingly notes that as
this new law was developing, it was at the same time being defended as
ancient and traditional. Chapters 3, 4, and 5 trace the continuing development
of the Gallic and Frankish episcopacy through the Merovingian period. Moore

104

BOOK REVIEWS

Ancient
Valentino Gnostico e Platonico: Il Valentinianesimo della “Grande Notizia”
di Ireneo di Lione: Fra esegesi gnostica e filosofia medioplatonica. By
Giuliano Chiapparini. [Temi metafisici e problem del pensiero antico, Studi
e testi, 126.] (Milan: Vita e Pensiero. 2012. Pp. xvi, 490. €32,00 paperback.
ISBN 978-88-343-2059-4.)
Giuliano Chiapparini’s monograph will prove to be a controversial but
indispensable contribution to the study of Valentinianism and Irenaeus’s
Against Heresies. The author argues that the so-called Grand Notice of
Against Heresies I:1–8 preserves the earliest and most accurate account of
the doctrines of the founder, Valentinus, albeit transmitted by disciples such
as Ptolemy. He presents a forceful case against recent views (notably those of
Christoph Markschies and Einar Thomassen) that tend to see the preaching of
Valentinus (in the 140s), and the doctrines even of Ptolemy (from around
160), as being less heresy than orthodoxy framed philosophically. The radical
features of Valentinianism exemplified by the Grand Notice—particularly the
complex mythology surrounding the Pleroma and Sophia—are thought (not
just by recent scholars, but even by Tertullian) to have been invented by
Ptolemy’s followers, in the 170s and 180s. Chiapparini argues that this picture
is completely wrong.The Grand Notice was composed by Irenaeus during his
Roman years (153–73, prob. 160–65), when he would have had a chance to
interact personally with many of the key figures, perhaps Valentinus himself.
The Grand Notice is a multilayered and reliable report.
To make his case, Chiapparini aligns the Greek (preserved by Epiphanius)
of the Notice against the ancient Latin translation and the parallels in
Tertullian’s Against the Valentinians. He translates all the relevant sections;
provides a detailed philological analysis of key phrases; and offers numerous
insights into the manuscript tradition, primarily Greek and Latin. In the
course of this exercise, he shows conclusively that Epiphanius replicates
faithfully Irenaeus’s otherwise lost Greek text.
Chiapparini reconstructs the sources used for the Notice. He identifies
two principal written sources, one of which overlaps with St. Clement of
Alexandria’s Excerpta ex Theodoto; an exegetical treatise on the Gospel of
John written by Ptolemy; and various oral reports. He argues that when these
sources are studied in their own right; and compared individually with testimonies of the teachings of Valentinus and Ptolemy, one may reconstruct their
doctrines. His own reconstruction comes in the final section of the book—a
series of analyses on Valentinian teaching on the Pleroma, the cosmos, and salvation. He claims that the earliest Valentinian theology cannot be associated
with “Gnosticism,” be it understood in late-antique or modern terms. The
Grand Notice depicts the Creator-Demiurge as a positive force, the cosmos as
an imperfect but genuine reproduction of higher realities, and knowledge as

108

BOOK REVIEWS

argues that throughout this period, bishops made continual efforts to conceptualize kingship, and these efforts went hand in hand with their attempts
to christianize it and participate in royal governance. In the end, the relationship between episcopal and royal power was worked out in Christian law,
which saw the two engaged in an alliance and partnership that was, at least
to a degree, mutually advantageous. The final four chapters focus on the
Carolingians, and Moore sees this period as one when the earlier episcopal
social doctrine was transformed into a militant missionary theory of power
that called for the use of force to christianize northern and central Europe:
under Charlemagne, for example, both the Saxon and the Avar wars were
“evangelical movements” (241). Moore argues that the Frankish bishops, who
at some earlier (and undisclosed) point seem to have dropped their claims to
holiness through ascetic practice, both redirected and sacralized the monarchy.This process reached its zenith during the reign of Louis the Pious, but in
it the seeds were sown for eventual catastrophe: it was Louis’s son Charles the
Bald who reaped that harvest, favoring his ambitious and powerful aristocrats
over the traditional Carolingian episcopal allies.
Moore is at his best when he is engaged in close readings of particular
texts. His analysis of works by Ambrose of Milan, Caesarius of Arles and the
Lérins authors, Pomerius, Isidore of Seville, Amalarius of Metz, and others are
always stimulating, and often provocative and convincing. His arguments
about the importance of the Visigothic church for the Franks ring true. The
seriousness with which he takes his sources is admirable. But Moore generally works on a rather high level of abstraction, and there are just a few scant
examples of how episcopal teaching affected episcopal life, let alone the life
of those who were not bishops—there is very little in the book from, for
instance, Sidonius Apollinaris or even Gregory of Tours, and virtually no use of
the abundant episcopal vitae from the Merovingian and Carolingian periods.
Oftentimes the evidence for his arguments can be found only in the notes,
and one needs the companionship of Mansi and Sources chrétiennes to find
the occasionally meager support for his claims. There are some gaps in his
bibliography as well—he does not seem to know Hal Drake’s Constantine
and the Bishops (Baltimore, 2000), which would have offered him a chance
to further develop his arguments in the early chapters of the book. Moreover,
although Mayke de Jong’s insightful book on Louis the Pious, The Penitential
State: Authority and Atonement in the Age of Louis the Pious: 814–840
(New York, 2009), appears in the bibliography, Moore does not seem to take
much from it; and unfortunately, Thomas Noble’s magisterial book on the
Carolingians and iconoclasm—Images, Iconoclasm, and the Carolingians
(Philadelphia, 2009)—appeared too late in the writing or publishing process
for him to use. Alas, this lacuna renders some of his discussion on the
Carolingians obsolete.
This very learned but sometimes flawed book will be helpful to specialists
in early-medieval episcopal history, and, perhaps in its wake, a new consensus

BOOK REVIEWS

109

regarding the role of bishops in the long period of transformation from antiquity to the middle ages will emerge.
University of San Francisco

M.A. CLAUSSEN

Eusebius of Emesa: Church & Theology in the Mid-Fourth Century. By
Robert E.Winn. (Washington, DC:The Catholic University of America Press.
2011. Pp. xiv, 277. $69.95. ISBN 978-0-8132-1876-2.)
Scholars of early Christianity have not known what to make of Eusebius of
Emesa (c. 300–59). His writings did not survive in their original Greek, but in
Latin and Armenian translations. Furthermore, he does not fit many preconceived notions of the fourth century. Robert Winn’s new book is a remarkable
accomplishment, which presents Eusebius’s thought on its own terms and
sheds light on this previously obscure figure. After surveying the biographical
data for Eusebius in chapter 1, the remainder of the book consists of Winn’s
close reading of Eusebius’s surviving corpus. Since this requires mastery of
Latin and Armenian, it is no small task.Winn is able to convey clearly the flow
of Eusebius’s thought in his various homilies while also conveying the details
of Eusebius’s rhetorical performance and his exegetical and argumentative
strategies (such strategies are the focus of chapter 2). In connection with
both exegesis and Christology, for instance, Winn helpfully undermines the
notion that Eusebius should be thought of as representative of an
“Antiochene” theological school.Winn offers a more convincing context, situating Eusebius’s thought in relationship with his mentor, Eusebius of
Caesarea, and his friend, George of Laodicea, while also noting affinities with
conciliar documents of the 340s and 350s.
Winn shows that affiliaticon with a doctrinal party was not determinative for Eusebius, who in fact used his sermons “to chastise his audience and
the larger church for the very debate concerning the nature of God” (p.
125). Instead of partisanship, “what was primary in Eusebius’s mind was
ecclesiastical identity” (p. 13). Eusebius sought to show his audience the
superiority of the church over its rivals: Jews, pagans, and heretics (especially Marcionites and Manichees). By “identity,” Winn signals the Christian
community’s defining beliefs and practices. He narrates Eusebius’s difficulties in convincing his audience; when urging them to renunciation, the
bishop had to remind his audience, “We are not your enemies” (p. 226).
Chapters 3 and 4 demonstrate that, for Eusebius, the affirmation of God’s
incorporeality—and a corresponding cosmology—were central to Christian
identity. In chapter 6, Winn shows that asceticism, understood as conversatio angelorum, was at the heart of Christian practice for Eusebius. Indeed,
salvation was practically equated with becoming “an asexual angel” (p. 240).
Fittingly so, since, as chapter 5 shows, the union of divinity and humanity in
Christ was for the purpose of transforming human nature, elevating it to the
level of angels rather than of men.

110

BOOK REVIEWS

Some questions remain. Winn helpfully undermines the attempt to interpret Eusebius through a party allegiance. Perhaps this insight should be pursued further.Winn claims that in rejecting Marcellus of Ancyra, Eusebius was
opposing “those associated with the theology of the creed of Nicea” (p. 124).
Likewise, since Eusebius proclaimed that the Son of God is “God with God,”
he must also have “condemned the theology of Arius” (p. 125). But this presupposes that he was concerned with Nicaea and Arius, which is not clear;
perhaps those ciphers played little role in his thinking at all. Following in
Winn’s wake, the major points of comparison for Eusebius should be Eusebius
of Caesarea and George of Laodicea—figures for whom neither Nicaea nor
Arius were particularly interesting. Still,Winn shows that Eusebius was unique
and, late in his life, surprisingly Trinitarian: Eusebius explicitly called the Spirit
God in the 350s, a move that even a number of pro-Nicenes in subsequent
decades did not make. This is noteworthy and raises questions as to why
Eusebius would have done so (was he reacting against anyone?) and whether
his doing so influenced later thinkers.
All scholars of Greek Christian thought and practice in the fourth century
should read this book. With his philological skill and his sensitivity to the
nuances of patristic theology, Winn has placed us in his debt. This reviewer
hopes that Winn will follow this up with an English translation of Eusebius’s
works.
Loyola University Chicago

ANDREW RADDE-GALLWITZ

A Companion to Augustine. Edited by Mark Vessey with Shelley Reid. [Blackwell Companions to the Ancient World.] (Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell
Publishing, 2012. Pp. xlii, 595. $199.95. ISBN 978-1-4051-59463.)
Besides an introduction by Mark Vessey, this truly impressive volume has
seven parts; each of the parts has many articles by some of the finest
Augustinian scholars and historians of late antiquity. The introduction
explains that recent scholarship has moved away from regarding St. Augustine
as a Father of the Church or as the object of theological investigation or from
the perspective of any Christian denomination. Hence, the present volume
introduces “the subject of Augustine as it has begun to reappear after the
invention of late antiquity” (p. 4). Despite all this, there is still much for those
of us who still see Augustine as a Father of the Church and the greatest of the
Western Fathers.
The first part presents the context of the study of Augustine, first a discussion by Christopher Kelly of the political history of the late Roman
Empire. It then moves on to William J. Klingshirn’s geography of Roman North
Africa and concludes with Éric Rebillard’s study of what it meant to be a
Christian in the time of Augustine.

BOOK REVIEWS

111

The second part bears the title of Augustine’s most famous work,
Confessions, and has four chapters. The first by R. S. O. Tomlin focuses on
Augustine’s worldly ambition and career as an orator and teacher of oratory
and the rise to power that his parents had envisioned for him, a perspective
often overlooked. In the second chapter Kate Cooper discusses Augustine’s
relation to women in Carthage and Milan, the marriage Monica arranged for
him, his pain over the loss of his mistress, his commitment to celibacy, and his
later friendship with various powerful women. Next, Paula Fredriksen argues
the Confessions should be read in the light of the theological questions that
Augustine confronted in the years before writing them. Next, Catherine
Conybeare presents a delightful chapter on reading the Confessions as a song
in relation to its hearers as well as a song of incompleteness and otherness.
Part 3 on media begins with Philip Burton’s discussion of Augustine and
language, touches upon his relation to other languages, and illustrates his various levels of style. Claire Sotinel then explores Augustine’s social networking,
especially in his vast correspondence, and Guy G. Stroumsa focuses on
Augustine’s preoccupation with books.
In part 4 on “Texts” Danuta Schanzer discusses Augustine’s relation to the
Latin classics, Sarah Byers deals with Augustine and the philosophers,
Johannes Van Oort examines Augustine’s relation to the books of the
Manichees, and Michael Cameron focuses on his relation to the scripture.
Mark Edwards studies his relation to his Greek and Latin Christian predecessors, whereas Michael Stuart Williams turns to his reading of his contemporaries. Finally, Mark Vessey writes on Augustine as a writer of the Church.
Part 5 turns to “Performances.” Gillian Clark writes on Augustine’s early
retirement to philosophy, and Theresa Fuhrer takes us through the early dialogues. John Peter Kenney takes up the topic of Augustine as a mystic and
master of the spiritual life, and Hildegund Müller presents Augustine as a
preacher. Neil B. McGinn shows us Augustine as a diocesan administrator, and
Caroline Humfries deals with Augustine as controversialist.
In part 6 James Wetzel writes on Augustine and the will, whereas David
Hunter turns to Augustine and the body. Stefan Rebenich examines Augustine
on friendship and orthodoxy, whereas Alexander Evers studies Augustine’s
ecclesiology in relation to the Donatists. Robert Dodaro writes on Augustine
and the cities of God and of man, whereas Sabine McCormick writes on the
scriptural foundation of his trinitarian theology, and Lewis Ayres presents his
theology of the redemption.
In the last part, “Aftertimes,” Clarence Weidmann writes on the survival and
transmission of Augustine’s work from the early manuscripts to critical editions and their electronic reproduction. Conrad Leyser studies Augustine in
the Latin West up to 900, and Eric L. Saak turns to Augustine in the Middle Ages

112

BOOK REVIEWS

and the Reformation. Johannes Brachtendorf presents his reception in modern
philosophy, whereas John Caputo looks at Augustine in postmodernism.
Finally, James O’Donnell’s “Envoi” looks to the future of Augustinian studies with prophetic utterances about what is to come. Each chapter contains
recommendations for further reading, and at the end there is a bibliography,
a list of Augustine’s work, and a chronology of his life. All told, the volume is
a fine contribution to Augustinian studies by some of the best scholars of the
present day.
Marquette University

ROLAND J.TESKE, S.J.

Celibate Marriages in Late Antique and Byzantine Hagiography: The Lives
of Saints Julian and Basilissa, Andronikos and Athanasia, and
Galaktion and Episteme. By Anne P. Alwis. (New York: Continuum. 2011.
Pp. xii, 340. $120.00. ISBN 978-1-4411-1525-6.)
Research of the last decades has greatly advanced our understanding of
women and gender issues within the Christian context of the Middle Ages.
Major databases now offer entry points for the study of primary sources and
scholarly literature relating to the monastic experience of women in the Latin
West (http://www.monasticmatrix.org) and to women’s life in general in the
Greek East (http://www.doaks.org/research/byzantine/resources/bibliographyon-gender-in-byzantium). Still, we are only beginning to understand the complex relations among societal constraints, women’s agency, and their normative representation in male-authored literature. Any publication that speaks to
these issues is a welcome addition and should be hailed, if not as a milestone,
than at least as a mosaic tessera, as is the case with Anne Alwis’s dissertationturned-book.
Celibate marriages, in which husband and wife come to a mutual agreement to abstain from sexual intercourse and to dedicate themselves to a
Christian life of charity and asceticism, were the subject of comprehensive
historical and literary study in the Latin West by Dyan Elliott in 1993.
Alwis’s aim is more modest—she presents three hagiographical tales composed in the fifth, sixth, and ninth/tenth centuries that offer different views
of celibate marriage in late antiquity and Byzantium: Greek text (with some
misprints), English translation (mostly accurate), very brief commentary
(sometimes uneven, but commendable in its reference to patristic texts and
papyrological evidence), preceded by an extensive introductory discussion
(pp. 1–153) of the date and manuscript transmission of the texts, their literary features, and their depiction of celibate marriage. The bibliography has
significant errors.
The Vita of Julian and Basilissa (BHG 970) depicts a couple in
Antinoöpolis in Egypt during the Diocletianic Persecution who consent to

BOOK REVIEWS

113

marry to please their parents, but agree to maintain chastity on their wedding
night.The remaining forty-nine chapters after Basilissa’s early death in chapter 15 deal with Julian’s miracles and bravery when faced with gruesome tortures and tell of his conversion of Kelsios, the son of his persecutor, who in
turn brings his own mother to Christianity. It is a tale of shared conjugal purpose as well as filial bonds, embedded in an elaborate martyrdom narrative.
The Vita of Andronikos and Athanasia (BHG 123a, this version edited
here for the first time) shows a wealthy couple from Antioch who, after the
birth of two children, devote themselves to charitable deeds and, after the
death of their offspring, decide to pursue the monastic life in Egypt in separate communities, Andronikos joining the circle of the sixth-century ascetic
Daniel of Sketis. The two meet again on the way to Jerusalem and continue
to live together as monastic “brothers,”Athanasia now appearing as an ascetically emaciated man. Her true identity is revealed only after her death. This
tale shows some parallels to stories of the “transvestite nun,” a popular hagiographical motif in the fifth to seventh centuries.
The Vita of Galaktion and Episteme (BHG 665) is a tale of spouses who
agree to a chaste marriage prior to consummation and go their separate
monastic ways, until they are reunited in martyrdom during an unspecified
time of persecution. As Alwis notes, this text with its emphasis on the reunification of separated lovers and its latent eroticism bears close resemblance
to novels and romances, including the story of Paul and Thekla.
This book is a valuable study (including a first edition) of little-known
Byzantine hagiographical texts. It is to be hoped that other studies will follow
that throw additional light on the social and historical implications of celibate
marriage in Byzantium.
CLAUDIA RAPP

University of Vienna

Medieval
Ansgar, Rimbert and the Forged Foundations of Hamburg-Bremen. By Eric
Knibbs. [Church, Faith and Culture in the Medieval West.] (Burlington,VT:
Ashgate Publishing. 2011. Pp. 258. $124.95. ISBN 978-1-4094-2882-4.)
It has long been plain that much of the written material from HamburgBremen in the earlier Middle Ages was produced with a desire to distort the
archdiocese’s own history and that this applied as much to documents as to
narrative histories. This was due to the difficult circumstances in which the
see found itself—with few or no suffragans, it clung to its claim to have
archiepiscopal authority over all Scandinavia and the Slavs, a claim challenged
from almost the very moment kings of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden pro-

114

BOOK REVIEWS

claimed their peoples Christian in the late tenth and eleventh centuries.
There was also the long-standing dispute with the archbishops of Cologne,
from whose province the Diocese of Bremen had been removed. These
themes prompted the composition of Adam of Bremen’s Gesta pontificum as
well as an astounding number of forgeries and falsifications from the eleventh
and twelfth centuries. All this is well known to historians of medieval
Germany and Scandinavia, and skeptical voices have questioned much of the
story of Hamburg-Bremen back to the very beginnings.Yet there has remained
a general acceptance of the narrative presented by Rimbert’s Life of Ansgar.
What has hindered many scholars who would pursue a more skeptical line
has been the daunting task of grappling with the diplomatic evidence. Eric
Knibbs has not only engaged with this evidence to great effect but also communicates his findings with a clarity that makes their logic readily apparent
even to those not deeply learned in the study of diplomas.
By placing Ansgar’s work in the context of the missionary (arch-)bishops
before him, Knibbs finds that the story presented by the Life of Ansgar has
“nothing but exceptions to offer” (p. 8). He provides an alternative account
based on critical analysis of the earliest documentary sources, which Ansgar
collected, modified (adding narrationes providing “the earliest narrative
account of the northern mission,” p. 117), and circulated to his fellow bishops
in the 840s. The layers of falsifications to the documents are identified and
peeled away, and a convincing narrative emerges.
Ansgar was at first an assistant in the northern mission led by Ebo of
Rheims, and as such he received a legatio from the pope in 831; after Ebo’s
disgrace in 834, Ansgar was ordained a missionary bishop and granted the
monastery of Turholt as a means of support by Louis the Pious. Following the
division of the Frankish kingdom under Louis’s sons,Ansgar lost Turholt and
sought to replace it by altering his privileges of 831 and 834 so that they
appeared to found a bishopric north of the Elbe, based at the fortress of
Hamburg.This was unsuccessful, but Ansgar was made bishop of the vacant
see of Bremen. Not until 864 was Ansgar granted the title of missionary archbishop of the Danes and Swedes, as part of Louis the German and Pope
Nicholas I’s dispute with Lothar II and Gunthar, archbishop of Cologne
(whose archdiocese, in principle, encompassed Bremen as a suffragan diocese).The quarrel ended in 865 (the year of Ansgar’s death) and, with it, the
political reason for Ansgar’s archiepiscopal status. For an unknown reason,
Ansgar’s successor Rimbert was ordained not to Bremen but to the previously fictional see of Hamburg. He was thus forced to argue that Bremen and
Hamburg had been perpetually joined, which he did through his Life of
Ansgar and through falsifications added to Nicholas I’s privilege to Ansgar. It
is unfortunate that Knibbs cannot explain Rimbert’s ordination to Hamburg,
but the traditional story has far more weaknesses, and it is perhaps inevitable
that some details must remain unexplained in this period.

BOOK REVIEWS

115

This book is extremely valuable to anyone interested in the history of the
Church in Scandinavia and Germany in the early-medieval period.
University of Cambridge

PAUL GAZZOLI

The Conversion of Scandinavia: Vikings, Merchants, and Missionaries in
the Remaking of Northern Europe. By Anders Winroth. (New Haven:Yale
University Press. 2012. Pp. xiv, 238. $38.00. ISBN 978-0-300-17026-9.)
This is a well-argued narrative of the Christianization of Scandinavia.
Winroth’s writing flows easily, and his vivid depictions of events and people
make his story come alive. His main argument is that Christianization was not
the result of military conquest, or missionary efforts, but instead of
Scandinavian chieftains acquiring Christianity as a tool in ongoing internal
power struggles. Christianity was useful as it offered superior support for
emergent kings and later played an important role in the unification of the
Scandinavian countries.
According to Winroth, Christianization was a slow process, with its roots
in the far-reaching contacts gained via Scandinavian Iron-Age trade and plundering activities. It involved a period of syncretism, seen in the burial record
where archaeologists struggle to differentiate between Christian and pagan
graves.Winroth shows that in the medieval chronicles, on the other hand, conversions are described as quick, with key events being royal acceptance of
baptism and outlawing of pagan rites. He divides Christianization into three
phases—missionary activity, royal conversions, and institutional conversion—
and argues that it was not a question of changing beliefs, but rather of politics and religious practice.
So far, there is every reason to agree with Winroth. His description corresponds very well with the results of modern research in Scandinavia. Fridtjov
Birkeli’s (1982) three phases of Christianization (infiltration, missionary activity, and establishment) are well known. Many archaeologists today agree with
Winroth that it is more or less impossible to determine whether an individual
grave is Christian or pagan and instead argue that they contain various traits
showing influence from either “paganism” or Christianity. Indeed,
Christianization has been a major focus of research in Scandinavia since the
1980s, in particular through two large research projects on “The
Christianization of Sweden” and “The Conversion of the Nordic Countries.”
To tell his story,Winroth questions the scant medieval written sources for
the conversion, using the known methods of thorough source criticism. It is
doubtful whether it is productive to question these sources yet again, with
largely the same methods and results as before. In several places, however, we
are told why Winroth has gone to this trouble—he argues that modern historians often accept and follow the descriptions of conversion found in

116

BOOK REVIEWS

medieval texts (e.g., pp. 117, 137). Winroth’s critique of the chroniclers is in
actual fact a critique of modern research, in the way he sees it. This may be
relevant from his transatlantic perspective, but readers should note that such
careful, critical appraisal also is found in the excellent work of scholars such
as Anne-Sofie Gräslund, Bertil Nilsson, Stefan Brink, Jørn Sandnes, Anders
Hultgård, Lars Lönnroth, and Thomas Lindkvist.
The book contains a bibliography of more than twenty pages, but Winroth
does not seem to have made full use of all references. In addition, there are
some surprising omissions such as the influential scholar Birkeli. Another
issue is the lack of women. This book outlines a predominantly masculine narrative era, which is at odds with the increasing body of work highlighting the
role of women not only in Viking society in general but also as pagan cult
leaders and as active participants in Christianization.
This monograph, however, provides a useful summary of much recent
work on the mechanisms of Christianization, especially for students and
scholars not familiar with Scandinavian languages, and it will undoubtedly
end up on reading lists of major universities. As a dynamic account of a significant phase of Scandinavian history it certainly has its place, but not, unfortunately, as an analysis of the results of modern research into Christianization.
Centre for Nordic Studies
University of the Highlands and Islands

ALEXANDRA SANMARK

The Rule of Saint Benedict. Edited and translated by Bruce L. Venarde.
[Dumbarton Oaks Medieval Library, No. 6.] (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press. 2011. Pp. xxii, 278. $29.95. ISBN 978-0-674-05304-5.)
Under the auspices of the Dumbarton Oaks Medieval Library, Bruce L.
Venarde has given us a parallel-text Latin and English version of the Rule of
St. Benedict. The general aim of the library is to produce facing-page translations and to create, in the words of the publisher,“accessible modern translations based on the latest research by leading figures in the field.” How does
this volume match up to these stated objectives?
The most problematic element here is the “latest research” element, as
twenty or so pages of introduction plus “Notes on the Texts” are not really
enough to bring us fully up to date.Venarde’s summary of the transmission of
the text of the Benedictine Rule in the early Middle Ages correctly highlights
its popularity in areas of northern Europe in the seventh and eighth centuries. The translation and edition, however, are based on St. Gallen MS 914,
which no longer enjoys the iconic status it once held in the history of textual
transmission. Although Venarde follows Eugène Manning’s view that this version does bring us close to what Benedict wrote, it would have been better
to explain all this in a little more detail.The sections on the virtues of the Rule

BOOK REVIEWS

117

itself do not seem to take into account the latest views on its strengths and
the reasons for its survival and popularity in the areas that he mentions.
Venarde’s inclusion of two translations of Carolingian texts relevant to the
understanding of the Rule in the Empire for which it became the gold standard of monastic observance looks like a nice touch, but as the footnotes
reveal, there is debate over the authenticity of one of them—the Letter to
Charlemagne attributed to Paul the Deacon.
What of the actual translation? This reviewer compared it with RB 1980,
edited by Timothy Fry (Collegeville, MN, 1981). Traditionalists will like the
way in which the Venarde version opens with “Listen carefully, my son, to the
teachings of a master and incline the ear of your heart” (p. 3). But they might
also cherish RB 1980’s concluding chapter that offers “this little rule that we
have written for beginners” (p. 95) as opposed to Venarde’s “this little Rule
sketched as a beginning” (p. xviii) for “hanc minimam inchoationis regulam
descriptam”—even if the latter may be closer to the Latin. Whatever one’s
taste, however, this is an eminently readable rendering.
University of Glasgow

MARILYN DUNN

Religieux et religieuses en Empire du Xe au XII e siècle. By Michel Parisse.
[Les Médiévistes français, 11.] (Paris: Éditions A. et J. Picard, 2011. Pp. 253.
€34,00 paperback. ISBN 978-2-70844-0908-8.)
This book brings together fifteen of the author’s articles, published
between 1982 and 2004. They describe the varied forms that monasticism
took between the tenth and twelfth centuries, mostly in those parts of the
Empire that would become France—that is, Alsace and Lorraine—although
two of the chapters describe female monasticism in Saxony. The abbey of
Gorze near Metz is mentioned often, and Michel Parisse notes his debt to
Kassius Hallinger’s previous study of that monastery and its reforms. Parisse
makes the argument in his preface that monasticism in the region that was
medieval Lotharingia represents a middle-ground or axis (“un espace moyen,”
p. 11; “l’axe lotharingien,” p. 96) between French and German models, and
there is frequent comparison of the subjects of his study to neighboring
regions, especially to Burgundy and Flanders. The book suffers from the
inevitable consequences of its origins—there is some overlap in the analysis
from one chapter to another, although the author has added comments
throughout that send the reader to other chapters for more background or
other details. Still, Parisse describes as his goal to make more evident the
diversity within the consecrated religious life in the region in this era (p. 13),
and he accomplishes this amply. Some monasteries existed independently
under the Rule of Saint Benedict, interpreted more or less strictly; others
joined the growing monastic networks. In addition to regular communities
(that is, under a rule), there were also secular ones, especially for women and
especially in Saxony, that permitted their members greater freedoms to move

118

BOOK REVIEWS

about or even leave permanently as well as to enjoy greater creature comforts
such as servants and private apartments. Parisse also reflects deeply on the
nature and meaning of monastic reform. Early Cluniacs and others emphasized the necessity of their reorganization of so-called corrupted monasteries,
but all monasteries interpreted their rules in different ways, and all engaged
in complex relationships with the lay nobility who had founded them,
donated lands to them, provided their personnel, and served as political and
ecclesiastical leaders alongside them. Parisse is to be commended for his skillful use of obscure and fragmentary sources. The regions he describes often
do not have the abundance of records that exists, for example, for Cluny in
the same period.Yet he even tries in places to track changes over time. Parisse
also defends his decision to separate out his analysis of male from female
communities into the two main parts of his book (seven chapters about men
followed by eight about women) as necessary so as to recognize the substantial gendered differences taken by monasticism. For example, in chapter
11 he points out the presence of widows as informal members of many religious communities that has no real male equivalent. He also tries his best to
sort out the sketchy evidence for female houses linked to the reforming
movements that were dominated by men, Cluniac, Cistercian, and
Premonstratensian. There is thus much of real value that results from the
bringing together of these related essays into one book.
San Diego State University

MATHEW KUEFLER

Wales and the Crusades, c.1095–1291. By Kathryn Hurlock. [Studies in Welsh
History, 33.] (Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Distrib. University of
Chicago Press. 2011. Pp. xiv, 267. $40.00 paperback. ISBN 978-0-7083-24271.)
There was no more transnational a phenomenon in Europe than the crusades, although French writers as late as Léon Gautier were inclined to see it
as the property of their own country’s history. Crusade was preached in every
part of Latin Christendom, and its pull on the peripheral peoples of Europe
can tell us a good deal about how its core culture spread and interacted with
those outside the mainstream such as the diverse Celtic and Scandinavian cultures of the north and west. Kathryn Hurlock’s study of the impact of the crusades on Wales follows in the track of other studies, such as Eric
Christiansen’s distinguished The Northern Crusades (London, 1997); lan
McQuarrie’s Scotland and the Crusades, 1095–1560 (Edinburgh, 1997); and
Janus Møller Jensen’s Denmark and the Crusades, 1400–1650 (Boston,
2007). Wales has the seductive advantage of having inspired the firsthand
account of the 1188 preaching tour of Archbishop Baldwin of Canterbury,
which was the framework for the writing of Gerald of Wales’s historical and
ethnographical masterpiece, the Itinerarium Kambriae. A thorough analysis
of this tour makes up an entire chapter of Hurlock’s book, as she picks her
way through the complicated politics of Baldwin’s mission and the even more

BOOK REVIEWS

119

complicated ethnic and political allegiances of Gerald himself. Preaching the
crusade in Wales involved appealing to the indigenous Welsh and the colonizing English alike, and Gerald’s telling description of the two ethnic groups
huddled apart from each other to listen to the archbishop’s appeal at Llandaff
is rightly famous for what it reveals.The appeal of crusade to each was very
real, but past and present tensions made it difficult for Welsh and English to
meet it jointly, especially when it came from the direction of Canterbury.
Hurlock’s approach is measured and meticulous, attempting to identify all
Anglo-Welsh crusaders from the sometimes exiguous sources. She offers treatments of the crusading orders in Wales and the March and the crusading ideal
as it featured in Welsh poetry of the gogynfeirdd (the court poets) and the
translated pseudo-crusades of the Carolingian epics. Sources for Welsh crusading are less thin than those for Scotland, as the Welsh maintained a vigorous chronicle tradition into the fourteenth century. Even so, sometimes the
treatment here becomes threadbare, and “possible” participants become
drafted into the thesis who might have been surprised to discover they were
Marcher characters (such as Engelger de Bohun, on the basis that he shared a
name with the earls of Hereford, and Philip d’Aubigny, a Leicestershire knight
who was once governor of Ludlow). Nonetheless, Hurlock works intelligently
with what she has and demonstrates that if the response of the Welsh to the
crusading movement was not widespread, it was certainly more wholehearted than its response to other aspects of dominant European culture.
Welshmen may have been seen and heard at Acre and Damietta, but not one
ever rode a horse in a tournament charge in the heyday of that great sport,
the catwalk of medieval European nobility.
University of Hull, United Kingdom

DAVID CROUCH

Crusading and Chronicle Writing on the Medieval Baltic Frontier: A
Companion to the Chronicle of Henry of Livonia. Edited by Marek Tamm,
Linda Kaljundi, and Carsten Selch Jensen. (Burlington, VT: Ashgate
Publishing. 2011. Pp. xxxiii, 484. $134.95. ISBN 978-0-7546-6627-1, ebook
978-1-4094-3396-5.)
The importance of Henry of Livonia’s Chronicle has been increasingly recognized since the Baltic States of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania regained their
independence twenty years ago. However, the only English translation dates
from 1951, far before scholars had paid much attention to it. Moreover, the
translator, James Brundage, later a distinguished and prolific scholar of
medieval legal history, had presented it for his master’s thesis; he added a new
foreword to his second edition in 2004.
That makes this collection of essays extremely valuable. Brundage himself
provides a lengthy introduction, focusing on what is known about Henry’s life
and asking why it was that a cleric who was forbidden to bear arms so often
joined in the fighting. Regional practices and necessity seem to be the expla-

120

BOOK REVIEWS

nation, together with the fact that the church’s disciplinary rules were not yet
firm and fast.
The editors divide the essays into three categories (“Representations,”
“Practices,” and “Appropriations,” with a bibliography) investigating the text
itself, the background to the text, and the ways that historians and political
movements have interpreted it. Happily, they have managed to attract contributions from a number of prominent scholars; and they have ensured a uniform style that makes the essays easy reading.
Christopher Tyerman sees the chronicle as providing a creation myth for
Christian Livonia, one that rearranges actions and motives to justify a brutal
invasion and conquest. Other contributors investigate what Henry tells them
about Baltic societies, their environment, and their beliefs.
The sections on military technology will probably attract the greatest
attention outside of specialists on the Baltic regions. The weaponry itself
makes for interesting reading, but especially so because Henry’s account is
enhanced by archaeological evidence from locations where prolonged sieges
took place. No one will ever write a description of the conquest again without having this collection of essays in hand.
This is well illustrated in the conquest of Oesel, the first Estonian region
to be reached by crusaders, but the last to succumb. Henry failed to understand that this island’s many capable and motivated warriors, sensing that
domination by German crusaders would lead to a loss of status, were seeking
to make some accommodation with the king of Denmark.
The contributions by archaeologists are especially valuable. On the whole,
they confirm the accuracy of most of Henry’s account, but they demonstrate
that he was not present everywhere at critical moments of the region’s tumultuous period of contact and contest.
Other essays investigate why a relatively small number of crusaders were
able to impose their rule over so many tribes so quickly—the reasons being
that the peoples traditionally victimized by the stronger ones joined with the
foreigners to overthrow their oppressors, the superior weaponry of the crusaders (an advantage that was short-lived, but sufficient), and the genius of the
crusade’s leaders (a subject covered less here than in German scholarship).
The last section, on the ways that Henry’s Chronicle has been used by
modern nationalists and apologists, is a fitting reminder that history is more
than “just the facts, ma’am.”That phrase, made famous in Dragnet, tells us that
although interpretation explains what actually happened and what it meant,
interpretations are always based on narratives and physical evidence.
Monmouth College

WILLIAM URBAN

BOOK REVIEWS

121

The Cistercians in the Middle Ages. By Janet Burton and Julie Kerr. [Monastic
Orders.] (Rochester, NY: The Boydell Press, an imprint of Boydell and
Brewer. 2011.Pp. viii, 244. $45.00. ISBN 978-1-84383-667-4.)
Part of an invaluable series on monastic orders of the Middle Ages, The
Cistercians in the Middle Ages by Janet Burton and Julie Kerr is a treasure
trove of detailed information historical, bibliographical, and terminological.
After a brief introduction on the eleventh-century monastic mentality of
renewal and reform, the authors concentrate on the “golden age” of the Order
in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, primarily in the British Isles, with
occasional illustrative glances at continental houses and at developments in
the later Middle Ages with only a passing and British glance at the unhappy
period of dissolution.
In chapters 1 and 2, Burton lays a solid base by providing a general
overview of the foundation and expansion of the Cistercian observance.
Chapter 1,“The ‘desert place called Cîteaux,’” looks at the mentality and selfaware documentation of the founding generation as well as recent studies of
its dating and their cleverly forged connections with ecclesiastical and secular authorities, not least the relatives of St. Bernard of Clairvaux. In chapter
2,“‘In mountain valleys and plains’:The spread of the Cistercian Order,” she
traces in chronological groupings the ever widening circles of Cistercian
growth, whether by foundation or incorporation of existing houses of both
men and women up to and beyond the decisions of General Chapter, in 1152
and 1213 respectively, not to accept or to found new monasteries of men or
women. Within this framework, she provides an excellent discussion of the
Carta caritatis in its various redactions, accepting the authorship of
Stephen Harding. Departing from the all too usual pattern of relegating the
nuns to a separate, usually brief, chapter, Burton includes the “moniales
albe” within the general overview, noting the meager documentation available for women’s monasteries and the nuns’ absence from General Chapters,
and ending with the 1228 General Chapter distinction between nunneries
under its jurisdiction and those, often savvy, nuns who “emulated” Cistercian
customs.
Kerr then takes up the story and in six chapters covers the aesthetics and
practicalities of Cistercian siting and architecture in far-flung regions (chapter 3); administration and discipline within each monastery and the unifying
oversight of the General Chapter, not overlooking the increasing difficulties
of maintaining an effective system of visitation as the Cistercians spread to
the far reaches of Europe (chapter 4); daily life with its balance of liturgical
prayer, lectio divina, and manual labor, and what can be known of relations
within the community and the austerities of daily life (chapter 5); spirituality
(chapter 6); the contribution, customs, and decline of laybrothers (whose
spiritual formation is passed over as including “some liturgical duties,” p. 151),
the grange economy and Cistercian adaptability in adjusting to local technol-

122

BOOK REVIEWS

ogy and non-agrarian industry (chapter 7); and finally (chapter 8) the
Cistercians’ impact on the geographically diverse and chronologically changing world about them, and its effect on them. A glossary, somewhat jarringly
set in a larger font than the rest of the book, and an up-to-date bibliography
conclude the book.
By citing myriad and dated examples of Cistercian continuity and change,
the two historians provide an overview built on accurate detail in the best
tradition of such scholars as R.W. Southern.Whether North American students
unfamiliar with British geography will be able fully to grasp the picture
sketched by these details or to realize that Cistercians in parts of Europe
rarely or never mentioned may have had different experiences remains to be
seen. Transitions that may be clear to a professional historian are not accentuated, so that events separated by two centuries sometimes appear coeval,
obscuring how the Cistercians changed as the medieval world and their own
circumstances altered. The weakest chapter is that on Cistercian spirituality.
Stress on the Cistercians’ devotion to the humanity of Christ and his mother
is neither set within an historical framework nor compared with that of their
contemporaries and so appears somehow unique to them.While concentrating on the “mystical experiences” of thirteenth-century lay brothers and nuns
and the spirituality of the “monk in the stall” known through hagiography,
exempla, visions, and the late-medieval cults of relics, the authors devote only
1.5 pages to what they quote Bernard McGinn as calling “the richest development of the monastic mystical tradition in the West” (p. 125), the writings
of the “Cistercian Fathers,” and never allude to their echoes in subsequent
centuries.“Cistercian mysticism,” we read,“centred on devotion to the humanity of Christ” (p. 140), but we find no reference to Bernard’s imageless “visit of
the Word” or William of Saint Thierry’s emphasis on reason as humanity’s
means of perceiving the divine, beyond the human, Christ. Nor, this reviewer
suspects, would the monks be pleased to hear that they “held that Jesus was
separate and distinct from God” (p. 141). Finally, at the risk of being querulous, one might, in this day and age, have hoped for more and better illustrations, if for no other reason than to make the book attractive to students.
The Center for Cistercian and Monastic Studies
Western Michigan University

E. ROZANNE ELDER

Francis of Assisi: A New Biography. By Augustine Thompson, O.P. (Ithaca, NY:
Cornell University Press. 2012. Pp. x, 299. $29.95. ISBN 978-0-8014-5070-9.)
In the last quarter of a century friars have been very conspicuous in the
literature regarding their canonized founder and the movement that he has
inspired. In an earlier age the study of the saint and the Order were illuminated by the erudition of a group of eminent Catholic scholars and others
drawn from diverse Christian communities.This biography is the work of an
accomplished medievalist and a Dominican: Augustine Thompson, O.P., the

BOOK REVIEWS

123

author of Cities of God: The Religion of the Italian Communes, 1125–1325
(University Park, PA, 2005). Thompson brings to his examination of the
Franciscan sources, medieval and modern, a welcome freshness that encourages him to challenge some of the hagiographical assumptions about the saint
of Assisi.The deaths of Cardinal John of St. Paul and Pope Innocent III left St.
Francis virtually bereft of friendship and influence in the corridors of the
papal court at a critical juncture in the development of the fraternity (p. 50);
this situation undoubtedly lay behind the insistence of Cardinal Ugolino di
Conti (later Pope Gregory IX) that Francis should not continue his journey to
France; instead, Francis was advised to leave Florence for Umbria, where he
would be better placed to answer critics of the growing fraternity.Thompson
is undoubtedly correct in dismissing some biographical material that has
been taken too literally by some scholars, and so, for instance, doubt is cast on
whether Francis embarrassed Ugolino by bringing alms to his table (pp. 77,
240–41).The Franciscans’ sensitivity to questions concerning the institutionalization of the Order is dubbed as a sequel to original sin (p. 236). Similarly,
Francis’s prophecy about the attack of Damietta in 1219 is given a balanced
interpretation rather than being regarded as pacifism (p. 232). The first part
of this volume covers no more than 143 pages, and the second is devoted to
sources and debates. It has no footnotes. Its endnotes are frequently extensive
with an account of the various positions in question; they provide the reader
with a useful guide to the sources, despite the author’s frequent recourse to
the personal pronoun I. Some of this material might profitably been transferred to the first part of the book where there was sufficient space for a
fuller account.The suggestion that Francis may have been suffering from posttraumatic stress disorder on his release from prison would have embellished
the treatment of this question in the first chapter (e.g., p. 177). Thompson
states that, had Raoul Manselli lived for a further decade, this book would
probably not have been written (p. 160). The decision to make use of
extended endnotes creates some difficulties, because such a format can give
rise to claims that call for qualification. For instance, Thompson associates
himself with the view of Manselli that “academic study among the Franciscans
became common only in the 1230s, after the conversion of Alexander of
Hales” (p. 263).While there were undoubtedly many more theologians in the
Order after 1236, the establishment of the network of Franciscan schools
goes back to the 1220s with the minister general and provincial playing a
leading role.The friars’ seriousness about the theological foundation for their
ministry is glimpsed in the engagement of Master Robert Grosseteste to teach
the friars at Oxford from 1229/30.This volume identifies areas in which some
Franciscan scholars have displayed discomfort, such as the institutionalization
of the Order. Its endnotes on Franciscan sources, medieval and modern, will
be of assistance to students of the saint and his followers. Despite the author’s
voluminous research, his account of why this is a New Biography, as his subtitle indicates (p. vii), is not persuasive.
St. Edmund’s College, Cambridge

MICHAEL ROBSON

124

BOOK REVIEWS

The Writings of Francis of Assisi: Letters and Prayers. The Writings of
Francis of Assisi: Rules. Testament and Admonitions. The Writings of
Clare of Assisi: Letters, Form of Life, Testament and Blessing. Edited by
Michael W. Blastic, O.F.M.; Jay M. Hammond; and J. A. Wayne Hellmann,
O.F.M.Conv. [Studies in Early Franciscan Sources, Vols. 1–3.] (St.
Bonaventure, NY: Franciscan Institute Publications. 2011. Vol. 1: Pp. xix,
335; vol. 2: xvi, 330; vol. 3: xvii, 147. Vol. 1: $29.95 paperback, ISBN 978-157659-230-4; vol. 2: $29.95 paperback, ISBN 978-1-57659-232-8; vol. 3:
$19.95 paperback, ISBN 978-1-57659-233-5.)
This review covers three volumes that contain studies on “Early Franciscan
Sources.” The first two address “The Writings of Francis of Assisi,” the third
“The Writings of Clare of Assisi.” The studies follow on the publication of the
volumes (Francis of Assisi: Early Documents I–III, 1999–2001) that have put
these writings, as well as historical material of interest to the study of these
writings, into English. The three volumes under review aspire to help the
readers of the writings of Ss. Francis and Clare understand them historically.
These studies are marked by Paul Sabatier’s life of Francis of Assisi (La Vie
de Saint François d’Assise, Paris, 1894). Sabatier used the narrative literature
on Francis. His selection of stories touched off a search for further stories and
a discussion about which individuals could be believed (the so-called
Franciscan Question). Since then, the focus has remained on Francis.
Historically Francis belonged to a brotherhood. He is part of a story. A biography might work if the subject has not given rise to an organization that
engages with its age, as did Francis and his companions. The studies under
review, in general, have not shaken off the interpretive cast given Franciscan
history by Sabatier.The whole project, the translated sources and these studies, deals with Francis as saint, prophet, and founder and not with the movement to which he belonged. Francis was, first of all, a brother.
The editors have seen to it that each piece of writing by Francis and by
Clare received careful attention. Ten contributors examined the manuscript
evidence for a piece and its context, then interpreted the text and did its bibliography. Understandably, a piece’s treatment varied in length, for some texts
are brief and simple; others long and much involved in the history of the
brothers and sisters. In the first of the three volumes, Letters and Prayers,
Michael Cusato goes over “The Letters to the Faithful” at great length
(149–207) and deservedly so, given the length of the text and its historical
importance. In the second volume, Rules, Testament and Admonitions,
William Short probes carefully the many details of the rules and, in particular,
those of the Early Rule and the Later Rule (17–222).They are, along with the
Testament, the pieces most important for the history of the brotherhood. At
the same time, in much fewer pages (Letters and Prayers, 209-44), Jay M.
Hammond sees to it that the “Vernacular Prayers” of Francis are far from neglected.The slender volume on Clare’s writings, not as often visited by historians, is especially helpful as survey and introduction.The authors take care of

BOOK REVIEWS

125

the differences of opinion that might arise around their texts by offering readers good bibliographies. And so the writings of Francis and Clare are open for
study.
The texts still have to be lifted into a study of the early Franciscan years
marked by chapter VI of the Rule. The chapter does not praise the times in
which the brothers and sisters of the Franciscan association lived.
The Franciscan Institute
St. Bonaventure University

DAVID FLOOD, O.F.M.

Poverty, Heresy, and the Apocalypse: The Order of the Apostles and Social
Change in Medieval Italy, 1260–1307. By Jerry B. Pierce. (New York:
Continuum. 2012. Pp. xiv, 197. $120.00. ISBN 978-1-4411-5641-9.)
Few medieval figures capture the imagination like Fra Dolcino, who
assumed leadership of the unsanctioned order of the Apostles in 1300 after
its founder, Gerardo Segarelli, was burned. Seven years later, many of the
Apostles were slaughtered by a crusading army, and Dolcino himself was executed. Good work on Dolcino has been done by contemporary Italian scholars, but hitherto little has been written in English.
Pierce begins with an instructive historiographical overview of modern
scholarship on the Apostles, with particular attention to (1) the repeated
interpretation of Dolcino in political, revolutionary terms over the decades
and (2) the American and English tendency to rely uncritically on prejudiced
sources like Salimbene and Bernard Gui. Italian scholars like Raniero Orioli
and Corrado Mornese, Pierce says,“have made significant contributions,” but
“their efforts have been almost entirely overlooked by English-speaking historians” (p. 16).That charge is partly correct but ignores the extent to which
Orioli’s work has now penetrated American scholarship so thoroughly that
the current Wikipedia article on Dolcino relies heavily on him.
Italian scholarship on Dolcino is hardly unanimous. Pierce accepts
Corrado Mornese’s argument (contra Orioli) that, in Dolcino’s battle with the
crusade, peasants of the Valsesia area supported him. Mornese’s argument is
fascinating but—like everything else involving Dolcino—debatable, and it
would have been helpful if Pierce had explicitly examined it, since (as his bibliography shows) he is quite familiar with the Mornese/Buratti/Burat circle
and their preoccupations. Also desirable would have been his evaluation of
Orioli’s thoughts on a possible connection between Dolcino and the Visconti.
And, since he relies heavily on Gui’s De secta pseudo-apostolorum and the
anonymous Historia fratris Dulcini, a discussion of their provenance would
have been of assistance of the reader. Is Gui really the author of the De secta?
And whose interests is “anonymous” defending?
Dolcino’s apocalyptic program is important, as Pierce realizes. He compares Dolcino with Joachim of Fiore. This is standard, but recent work on

126

BOOK REVIEWS

apocalyptic thought in the century after Joachim has made it less promising to engage in point-by-point comparisons of Dolcino and Joachim as if
there were nothing in between. So far only Gian Luca Potestà (yet another
Italian) has begun to place Dolcino in his contemporary apocayptic/
prophetic context.
If Pierce’s book can be said to have a major problem, it is that he gives himself too little space to do much of anything. He offers fifty-two pages of background covering social, economic, political, and ecclesiastical history from c.
1000 to the mid-thirteenth century, then finally turns to the Apostles but
devotes only sixty-eight pages to them. What he cannot offer in those sixtyeight pages is what Orioli actually offers in the 325 pages of Venit perfidus
heresiarcha—a subtle inquiry into who Dolcino was and what he stood for,
one based on a close examination of all extant sources. Most of these sources
are contestable, but when combined they point to some interesting hypotheses. And in the final analysis, hypotheses are the best we can do at present.
Looming over any study of Dolcino is the disquieting fact that, of the sources
available to us, almost nothing can be taken at face value.
Both the brevity of this book and its title now leave Pierce free to write
what he is clearly capable of producing: a book specifically on Dolcino that
combines the complexity and scholarly acumen of Orioli with the more
recent insights of Mornese, Potestà, and other authors.
Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University,
Blacksburg (Emeritus)

DAVID BURR

The English Benedictine Cathedral Priories: Rule and Practice, c.1270–
c.1420. By Joan Greatrex. (New York: Oxford University Press. 2011. Pp.
xxii, 416. $150.00. ISBN 978-0-19-925073-8.)
Joan Greatrex is known for her meticulously assembled Biographical
Register of English Cathedral Priories … c. 1066–1540 (New York, 1997),
the result of regular visits and many hours of study in archives of the former
priories. In addition, there are numerous articles about monks in particular
houses—Ely, Norwich, Rochester, Winchester, and Worcester, shedding light
on aspects of monastic life there. The author describes the present work as a
“supplement” to the Register, where a fuller picture of monastic life might be
obtained by the use of material from a group of houses, making up for the
lack of evidence in some places. The priories concerned are Bath, Canterbury,
Coventry, Durham, Ely, Norwich, Rochester, Winchester, and Worcester.
Although there is some information for all the houses, there is most for
Canterbury, Durham, and Norwich, followed by Ely,Winchester,Worcester, and
Rochester. There is very little from Bath and Coventry. The chosen period is
c. 1270 to c. 1420.

BOOK REVIEWS

127

The scheme is to show life in the monastery from the noviciate to death.
The life of obedientiaries is considered under the title “Years of Maturity” and
the observance in church under “The Rhythm of the Liturgical Year,” including
fasts, feasts, and “recreation.”The infirmary follows, with sickness, death, and
death notices.The study of the noviciate is especially useful, with its discussion of texts to be read.There are two appendices, on the study of grammar
and monastic reading of historical works, in which some of the texts bundled
together in library catalogs are elucidated. The importance of the precentor
as librarian is emphasized, in addition to his already extensive work in ordering the worship of the choir. Issues pertaining to monks at Oxford and
Cambridge are included, even the matter of “student funding.”
There is an introduction in which the reader is urged to judge the
Benedictines of the fourteenth century on their own merits and in the light
of the Rule as they saw it, not as against their twelfth-century predecessors.
The problems of life with the bishop as abbot are discussed, including the
advantages of the bishop’s frequent absences on the perambulation of his diocese. A section on “Cathedrals in a Monastic Precinct” shows plans of
Canterbury, Durham, Worcester, Norwich, Rochester, and Ely. It would have
been useful to include a version of John Crook’s plan for Winchester, especially as so much building was lost there.The author makes the point that the
layout of cathedral priories hardly differed from that of major Benedictine
abbeys, except, of course, for the presence of the bishop’s palace.
The “conclusion” chapter makes for sad reading. Calls for reform were not
heeded, so that the “common life” became too much eroded in private cells,
possessions, and pocket money. Her considered view is that the monks in the
cathedral priories and other monastic houses in England were afflicted by a
form of accidia in the two centuries before dissolution. Accidia is usually
translated “sloth,” but sometimes is rendered as “restlessness, inability either to
work or to pray,” or perhaps “lack of application.” She allows that the claustrales (those not holding office) may not have been so afflicted, but they do
not generally appear in the records. This seems a harsh judgment, although
since Greatrex knows the monks so much better than most scholars, it is hard
to refute. She finds hope in some increased figures for the noviciate in
Canterbury, Durham, and Worcester c. 1530, suggesting some aspirants still
desired a monastic life.
As a companion to the Biographical Register, this book deserves its place
on a library shelf. It can be read throughout, but in many cases it will be consulted for specific details such as dates of admission and ordination or the regulations of the infirmary. The pages on grammar, the reading of history, and
the studies of young monks are of great importance. As a work of reference,
it will assist inquiries about other large houses such as Abingdon,Tewkesbury,
and Bury St. Edmunds.
Canterbury Cathedral Archives, United Kingdom

MARGARET SPARKS

128

BOOK REVIEWS

Translating Truth: Ambitious Images and Religious Knowledge in Late
Medieval France and England. By Aden Kumler. (New Haven: Yale
University Press. 2011. Pp. xiv, 290. $65.00. ISBN 978-0-300-16493-0.)
To medieval writers the terms ambitious and ambition (Latin, ambitio,
French, ambicion, Middle English, ambicioun) were pejorative, referring to
an excessive striving for honor, power, or money. In the Somme le roi, one of
the illustrated works analyzed by Aden Kumler, ambition is the fourth subdivision of the vice of pride, as the text says:“La quarte branche d’orgueil est
fole baerie, que l’en apele en clergois ambicion, c’est desirriers mauvés de
haut monter.”1 In a turnaround, Kumler, like a number of other historians
since the 1970s (perhaps inspired by F. R. H. Du Boulay, An Age of Ambition:
English Society in the Later Middle Ages [New York, 1970]), uses ambitious
to refer to a praiseworthy thirst on the part of social elites of England and
France in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries for true understanding of
Christian beliefs. Indeed, the title of her book draws on that of an article by
Nicole R. Rice.2 For Kumler, as for Rice, the term translation refers to the
translation of catechetical material from Latin to the vernacular to make it
accessible to the laity. Beyond this, Kumler is concerned with the translation
of basic Christian beliefs into visual images that addressed (or incited) the
spiritual ambitions of the laity for “religious knowledge.”
In the introduction Kumler lays out the types of texts and images to be
analyzed in the four following chapters. Her thesis that images in themselves
can be translations of religious truth is not a radically new idea.Among a multitude of possible examples she selects a class of luxury illuminated manuscripts made for lay instruction, books that “appropriated the contents of the
pastoral syllabus” (p. 6) of the Fourth Lateran Council (1215). Her study is limited geographically and linguistically to France and England, her explanation
being that they were joined by a common language through the thirteenth
and much of the fourteenth century.
Chapter 1,“From Necessary Truths to Spiritual Ambitions,” focuses on the
copy of the Bible moralisée (Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek cod.
2554), whose images are accompanied by French texts. Kumler observes that
the volume “offered its royal audience a highly mediated access to Holy Writ,
and aestheticized vision of religious truth as a kind of gleaming object in
ecclesiastical hands” (p. 16). She discusses selected illustrations, not as direct
vehicles of religious instruction but as evidence of the post–Fourth Lateran
Council belief in the importance of lay religious knowledge rather than
simple blind faith. Much of this chapter is devoted to an exposition of the
1
E. Brayer and A.- F. Leurquin-Labie, eds., La “Somme le roi” par Frère Laurent
(Abbeville, 2008), p. 121.
2
Nicole R. Rice, “Spiritual Ambition and the Translation of the Cloister: The Abbey
and Charter of the Holy Ghost,” Viator, 33 (2002), 222–60.

BOOK REVIEWS

129

decrees of the council and their dissemination via episcopal statutes. The
newly formalized requirements of confession and communion provide the
framework for chapters 2 and 3, “Translating the Modus Confitendi,” and
“Translating the Eucharist,” each of which is also supplied with detailed expositions of the underlying theology—in particular, that of penance and the
Eucharist.
The visual material of chapter 2 includes the Speculum virginum (the
exemplar cited is London, British Library MS Arundel 44), written in Latin for
nuns in the twelfth century as a “mirror” to be used for self-examination and
regulation, and treated by Kumler as an ancestor of later visual pastoralia,
which continued to employ the metaphor of the mirror and the diagrammatic
trees that “render the invisible contents of the moral-spiritual interior in visible terms” (p. 62). She cites the Vrigiet de solas (Paris, Bibliothèque nationale
de France MS fr. 9220), a late-thirteenth-century diagrammatic compendium,
as an example of a moral mirror composed under the influence of the
Speculum virginum, but intended for a lay reader-viewer.
This wide-ranging chapter then considers the case of the 1287 copy of
Jean de Joinville’s mid-thirteenth century Roman as ymages (Paris,
Bibliothèque nationale de France MS n. a. fr. 4509), a work conceived as a textand-image exposition of the Apostles’ Creed “designed to be read and shown
to dying Christians in order to strengthen their faith against the devil’s final
assaults” (pp. 68–69). The text-image relationship is characterized as
antiphonal, “textual instruction and visual amplificatio” (p. 70), despite the
fact, admitted by Kumler, that pictures and words, at least in this copy, are “discombobulated” or “asynchronous” (p. 71). Joinville’s book was written while
the author was on crusade with King Louis IX, and these circumstances form
a loose link with the next cases discussed by Kumler, in the section “The
Heroics of Religious Knowledge,” which considers allegorical and diagrammatic images that incorporate armed knights and symbolic shields, images
“clothing penitential practice in the guise of chivalric ideals.” One of her
examples is drawn from a series of tinted drawings at the end of the thirteenth-century Apocalypse of Eleanor de Quincey (London, Lambeth Palace
MS 209), a complex visual allegory of penance as spiritual combat. Although
Kumler goes on to analyze the Veronica image in the same manuscript and
mentions the miniature of Eleanor de Quincey in prayer before the Virgin, she
does not consider the series of drawings as a purposefully conceived whole,
nor does she discuss their relevance to the illustrated vernacular Apocalypse
they follow, nor does she touch on the particular kind of religious knowledge
such a rich pictorial complex might impart.
Selective attention to individual images or individual components of compendia again characterizes Kumler’s discussion of the textual-visual catechesis of a little-known English volume of the second half of the fourteenth century (Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France MS fr. 400), which includes a

130

BOOK REVIEWS

series of eight images of single figures holding placards with Latin texts setting out basic Christian beliefs in numerical sets, for example, Moses with the
Ten Commandments and St. Peter with the Seven Sacraments, each accompanied by an Anglo-Norman translation.The rest of the volume, which altogether
includes 274 images, is described only in a footnote (p. 252n125). Kumler concludes this section with an emotionally charged description of the cycle as “a
vision of Christian community as a collectivity reformed and perfected by dialogic encounters with religious truth” (p. 96), a dialogic encounter also made
visual, as she says, in the last manuscript discussed in this chapter, the AngloNorman Apocalypse and Lumere as lais illustrated around 1310 for a lay
patron (London, British Library MS Royal 15 D ii). The initial letters in both
texts contain “portrait” heads that act as a “fictive and idealizing mirror of
Christian society” and “visually describe a community unified in its relationship to religious knowledge,” mounting “an ambitious campaign of solicitation, inviting the reader-viewer to join a company of men and women distinguished by their stature on the page and by the authorizing texts they
inhabited” (p. 99).
The main focus of chapter 3,“Translating the Eucharist,” is a compendium
whose chief text is a tract on the Mass illustrated in England during the 1320s
by the artist of the renowned Queen Mary Psalter (Paris, Bibliothèque
nationale de France MS fr. 13342). Elegantly characterized by Kumler as an
“ordo for the lay devotees’ corporeal, intellectual, and spiritual participation
in the Mass” (p. 122), the illustrations alternate between those showing
proper lay conduct at various moments of the Mass and those visualizing the
events in the life of Christ upon which the worshipers were supposed to
meditate while the priest conducted the service. Kumler observes that the
illustrations present a “visual fiction” since they depict the worshipers in
close proximity to the priest at the altar, when in fact they would have been
separated physically from the celebrant. It is the illustrations themselves that
promote “devout vision’s ability to penetrate beyond the visible to the invisible mysterium of the sacrament” (p. 137). In this chapter Kumler also analyzes
the other texts of the compendium, the Anglo-Norman Miroir de seinte eglyse
and the Dialogue del piere et del fiz, and the Latin prayers and Psalter of St.
Jerome, along with the four Marian miniatures (Oxford, Bodleian Library MS
Douce 79) now separated from the main body of the book.Together with the
tract on the Mass, these texts and images comprise a “deluxe compendium . . .
suitable for the spiritual formation and practice of a layperson” (p. 120).
Chapter 4,“Translating the Cloister,” the longest in the book, is devoted to
the interdependent parts of a Parisian volume of the 1290s whose chief texts
are the Somme le roi written for King Philip III of France in 1279 by Laurent
d’Orléans, his Dominican confessor (London, British Library MS Add. 28162),
a “bespoke Old French summa of moral and theological instruction” (p. 164);
and the Sainte-abbaïe (London, British Library MS Yates Thompson 11), a treatise on “the interior cloister of the spiritually adept soul” (p. 165). In its origi-

BOOK REVIEWS

131

nal form, the lavishly illustrated manuscript “was a book that even a king
might envy.” Many copies of the Somme le roi have full-page miniatures, not
text illustrations, but the very kind of “ambitious images” that add moral and
spiritual value to the reader-viewer’s experience of the book, and Kumler analyzes them in greater detail than other scholars, who have been concerned
primarily with the questions of style, date, and patronage.The Sainte-abbaïe
(the unique illustrated copy) is accompanied by three impressive full-page
miniatures representing monastic structures and their female inhabitants
(now bound into the manuscript incorrectly). Generally, when the work has
been discussed, the illustrations have been taken as evidence that the book
was made for a nun, perhaps a religieuse in a royal convent such as
Maubuisson, which possibly owned the manuscript in the fifteenth century.
Kumler is the first scholar to interpret these illustrations as “translations” of
the values and experience of claustral life, not for a nun, but for a layperson.
For her, the images visualize a spiritual journey using the allegorical abbey as
a “cloister of the soul” (pp. 206ff.) in which the pictured regimen of conventual life models for the lay viewer the progress of the devout Christian toward
an ideal of religious knowledge.
Translating Truth: Ambitious Images and Religious Knowledge in Late
Medieval France and England is an ambitious and complex book, eloquently
written and beautifully produced. The examples offered are fresh examinations of mostly well-known manuscripts whose illustrations have in fact been
considered occasionally as instruments of moral and spiritual formation of
medieval Christians, as Kumler makes clear in copious endnotes and bibliography. At times, nevertheless, the choice of case studies seems arbitrary and
the transition from one to the next artificial rather than natural. Questions
arise:Why were these particular illustrated compendia chosen as examples of
visual translation? Are vernacular treatises of religious instruction the only
means by which Christian truth was translated visually for the laity? How
about the truth value of the illustrations of devotional books that were owned
and used by the laity? Perhaps the author will consider expanding her
purview further in a second volume.
New York University

LUCY FREEMAN SANDLER

How to Defeat the Saracens. By William of Adam. Tractatus quomodo
Sarraceni sunt expugnandi. By Guillelmus Ade.Text with translation and
notes by Giles Constable. [Dumbarton Oaks Medieval Humanities Series.]
(Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection.
Imprint of Harvard University Press. 2012, Pp. xii, 138. $34.95. ISBN 978-0884-02376-0.)
Historians of the crusades have often argued about the significance of the
fall of Acre in 1291, but there seems little doubt that for many contemporaries
it was an event of profound importance. Some turned their minds to the prob-

132

BOOK REVIEWS

lem of how this disaster could be reversed and there developed a whole genre
of “recovery literature” of varying quality and practicality. William of Adam’s
treatise was relatively late on the scene, but this did give the author the advantage of a longer perspective.William was a Dominican, born around 1275, who
traveled extensively in the Middle East between 1307 and 1316/17. He composed his treatise around the end of that time. He was therefore no armchair
critic, for he could speak with direct experience of the environment within
which any actions would have to take place, and indeed he seems to have been
driven by a strong belief that it was his duty to convey what he had learned to
those who were in a position to influence the situation.
He knew that, ultimately, the Holy Land could only be recovered by a largescale passagium, but, although there had been much talk and some showy
taking of vows, there was little immediate sign that this was about to be transformed into a major crusade. William therefore concentrates upon demonstrating how such an expedition could succeed if the ground were properly
prepared. In essence, he advised putting a huge squeeze on Egypt by stifling
its trade and cutting off any help it might receive from Mongols, Greeks, or
Latins. His most original idea, which forms an appropriate culmination of his
book, was to blockade the southern end of the Red Sea and thus destroy the
vital trade link with India, without which Alexandria would not flourish. India
was truly “the source of all the evils” that he had described in the earlier part
of the book. He himself knew the region well, having spent twenty months in
the Red Sea area.According to William, the blockade could be achieved with
a force of only three or four galleys. He describes in detail how this would
work, where the best places for bases could be found, and how the galleys
could be repaired and maintained. He was confident that the Christians
would receive the support of the Mongol ruler of Persia that would enable
them to make use of islands in the gulf of Hormuz. It is difficult to assess
whether this plan could ever have been activated; the only previous attempt
to penetrate this region had been by forces sent by Reynald of Châtillon in
1183, and this had been a total failure, even though at that time the Christians
still controlled Jerusalem.
William’s book must have been a great disappointment to him, for it did
not catch the imagination of contemporaries, but it is of immense interest to
modern historians, in that it offers insights into the post-1291 situation that
contribute to our understanding of the myriad problems facing any attempt
to dislodge the Mamluks from Jerusalem.This is a fine edition and translation
by Giles Constable, the first to make use of all three known manuscripts, as
well as cutting through the unusually complicated editing history that beset
the work in the late-nineteenth century. Constable provides a concise and
authoritative introduction and full notes, particularly necessary given the relative unfamiliarity of the regions in which William traveled.
University of Reading, United Kingdom

MALCOLM BARBER

BOOK REVIEWS

133

The Registers of Bishop Henry Burghersh, 1320–1342. Vol. III: Memoranda
Register Dispensations for Study Cum ex eo, Licences for Non-Residence,
Testamentary Business, Letters Dimissory, Appointment of Penitentiaries. Edited by Nicholas Bennett. [Publications of the Lincoln Record
Society, Vol. 101.] (Rochester, NY: Boydell & Brewer. 2011. Pp. xxviii, 486.
$50.00. ISBN 978-0-9015-3-93-0.)
Henry Burghersh (b. 1290?) probably had a university career before he
was named bishop of Lincoln by papal provision in a disputed election in
which two local candidates were rejected (he was a secular cleric; the cathedral was monastic). Contemporary chroniclers reported unfavorably on the
election because of the papal intervention and because he was thought to be
too young and inexperienced. Later the appointment was condemned,
because Burghersh had sided with Isabella and Mortimer against the king,
Edward II. They appointed him treasurer (1327) and chancellor (1328). He
was relieved of his office by Edward III, but the king exacted no other penalty
for his association with the rebels and subsequently reappointed him treasurer (1334–37) and then ambassador to the Low Countries to work on a
union of European powers against France. Except for two short visits home,
he remained abroad until his death.
Burghersh seems to have been an effective administrator of the enormous
Diocese of Lincoln that was divided into seventy-five rural deaneries and
about 1928 parochial benefices under eight archdeaconries: the counties of
Bedford, Buckingham, Leicester, and Oxford; Lincoln (which included the
counties of Lincoln and Stow); and Northampton (which included
Northampton and Rutland). He had a number of houses within his district
that enabled him to move about to carry out the business of the diocese as
well as two residences outside the diocese—his castle at Newark and his
London house in Holborn. Burghersh had a retinue of household clerks who
traveled with him as well as a large group of assistants and officers resident
in Lincoln.
Volume III of the edition is Burghersh’s memoranda register; volumes I
(LRS 87) and II (LRS 90) contain institutions to benefices in the eight
archdeaconries and collations of cathedral dignities and prebends.The memoranda register contains dispensations under the Constitution Cum ex eo,
which allowed clerics to leave their parishes to study (for up to seven years,
but the average was for three and a half years and often was for only one
year); licenses for nonresidence to visit Rome or to be in the service of a lord;
testamentary business, probate of wills, and so forth; letters dimissory, chiefly
for unbeneficed clerics, that allowed candidates for ordination to receive
orders from bishops other than their own; appointments of penitentiaries;
licenses to celebrate in private chapels or oratories; and commissions to carry
out institutions to or the exchange of benefices.The second part of the register, not edited here, contains unclassified memoranda.

134

BOOK REVIEWS

Nicholas Bennett provides a transcription of a typical document for each
of these categories and then summarizes the remainder of the entries.
Dispensations under Cum ex eo average about twenty-four a year, although
the variance in years of study would result in more than twenty-four nonresidencies at any given time. Licenses for nonresidence to attend upon lords
were usually given for one year, although they could be renewed. Letters
dimissory apparently were common often because of the distance an
appointee would have to travel to wherever his bishop was in order to be
ordained. Penitentiary appointees were usually rectors or other seculars, but
there are many licenses for friars from all four orders; however, Dominicans
and Franciscans dominate. There are also letters appointing regulars to act
within monasteries and nunneries as well as letters allowing abbots, canons,
and other regulars to choose confessors for stated periods of time.
Indiana University

LAWRENCE M. CLOPPER

A Kingdom of Stargazers: Astrology and Authority in the Late Medieval
Crown of Aragon. By Michael A. Ryan. (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.
2011. Pp. xvi, 214. $45.00. ISBN 978-0-8014-4984-0.)
The present book pretends to develop a well-known topic: the interest in
astrology and other techniques of prediction in the Crown of Aragon during
the reigns of Pere el Ceremoniós (r. 1336–87) and Joan el Caçador (r.
1367–96), and the ambiguous attitude of Joan’s brother, King Martí
(1399–1410), in relation to those subjects. It is obvious that political power
has always been interested in obtaining information about future events, and
the author exemplifies this idea in his epilogue (pp. 180–81), when he mentions the interest of President Ronald Reagan and his wife, Nancy, in astrology;
the same could be said about other political leaders of the twentieth century.
The problem is that the subject, as dealt with by the author, becomes too
large. Michael A. Ryan deals, actually, not only with astrology but also with
other techniques for divination, including prophecy and visions, and with the
whole of the occult sciences, including several kinds of magical practice and
alchemy. On the other hand, the sources used are not technical. He says,“the
documents I rely upon for this study (theological studies, literary works,
archival documents, and occult writings) . . .” (p. 16). It is discouraging that his
references to the astrological activities under Pere el Ceremoniós are limited
to his mentions about the astrologers at the service of the king such as
Bertomeu de Tresbéns, Dalmau ses Planes, and Pere Gilbert, based mainly on
archival documents edited by Rubió i Lluch in 1908–21. He does not refer to
the Jewish astronomer Jacob Corsuno, the real author of the Tables of
Barcelona, and he does not analyze the aforementioned tables (the king’s
prologue states clearly that the purpose of the tables was astrological) or, for
example, Bertomeu de Tresbéns’s Tractat d’Astrologia and the collection of
astrological texts called Tencar, edited by Susanna Vela (Andorra, 1997). The

BOOK REVIEWS

135

author’s reference to the Tables of Barcelona, which he considers to derive
from the Alfonsine Tables, shows that he is unaware of the “recent” (since
1996) bibliography on the subject by José Chabás. Reading the volume edited
by Juan Vernet Ginés and Ramon Parés i Farràs—La Ciència en la Història
dels Països Catalans, Vol. I: Dels àrabs al Renaixement (València-Barcelona,
2004)—would have saved the author from several shortcomings.
Another problem is that, in a book of some 230 pages, the author begins
to deal with the subject proper only on page 105. Before that, there is a long
series of introductory chapters in which it is stated that the interest in the
occult sciences in the later Middle Ages was caused by the apocalyptic expectations which resulted from the Black Death (1347–50) and the Great Western
Schism (1378–1417).The author analyzes the attitudes toward astrology and
divination in Western authors that go from St. Augustine to the Franciscan
John of Rupescissa (c. 1365), a topic to which he dedicates two whole chapters. In the third chapter (starting on p. 80) he begins to deal with the Iberian
Peninsula, and his analysis of the Alfonsine sources is limited to the Partidas
and the translation of the Picatrix; he does not mention the Libros del Saber
de Astronomía (a collection of sources related mainly to astronomical instruments with an obvious application to astrology) or the two great astrological
handbooks (Libro conplido en los iudizios de las estrellas and Libro de las
Cruzes). This is remarkable due to the fact that the Alfonsine cultural model
was copied by Pere el Ceremoniós. In this chapter it is said that Ptolemy, in
his Tetrabiblos,“systematized various astrological theories that incorporated
Babylonian, Egyptian and Indian [?] knowledge” (pp. 81–82); and he confuses
the poet Ahmad ibn ’Abd Rabbihi (d. 940) with his nephew, the physician Sa–id
ibn ’Abd Rabbihi (d. 953–54 or 966–67). Historical errors occur several times
throughout the book; the most remarkable one appears at the beginning (p.
6) when the author states that Count Guifré el Pelós established the House of
Aragon in the ninth century.
On the whole, the book contains interesting materials for the history of
culture, but does not correspond strictly to its title.
University of Barcelona

JULIO SAMSÓ

A Companion to Catherine of Siena. Edited by Carolyn Muessig, George
Ferzoco, and Beverly Mayne Kienzle. [Brill’s Companions to the Christian
Tradition, Vol. 32.] (Boston: Brill. 2012. Pp. xvi, 395. $209.00. ISBN 978-9004-20555-0.)
This book aims, in the words of its publisher, to present a “substantial introduction to the world of Catherine of Siena, her works and the way her followers responded to her religious leadership”; to provide an overview, in
English, of her historical and cultural contexts; and to “make accessible hitherto elusive details” of her life and works.

136

BOOK REVIEWS

The introduction and thirteen essays may be divided, broadly, into three
groups. The first group (consisting of the introduction and essays on the
“Historical Reception of Catherine,” “Catherine and the Papacy,” “Catherine
and Preaching and Hagiography in Renaissance Tuscany,” the “Processo
Castellano and the Canonisation of Catherine,”“Catherine in Late Medieval
Sermons,” “Laude for Catherine,” and the “Iconography of Catherine’s
Stigmata”) fulfills these aims. Each of these essays provides a genuinely accessible introduction to and overview of its chosen theme, combining clear narrative and interpretation with extensive and valuable footnotes to relevant
literature.
The second group (consisting of essays on “Female Urban Reclusion in
Siena at the Time of Catherine,”“Catherine on the Value of Tears,”“Penance in
the Life of Catherine,” and “Writing and Religious Women in Late Medieval
Italy”) is less successful in terms of accessibility and also in the aim of providing both introductions and overviews. These essays are, instead, detailed
case studies of particular aspects of St. Catherine and her context, are much
more densely written and indebted to particular theoretical perspectives, and
require considerably greater existing familiarity with Catherine on the part of
the reader.
The third group (consisting of essays on “The Manuscript Tradition” of
Catherine’s writings and the history of the text of the “Legenda maior of
Catherine of Siena” by Blessed Raymond of Capua) provides detailed analyses
of the various surviving texts.Although both essays include useful and accessible introductions and explanations of the manuscript traditions involved,
their principal—and considerable—value lies in their potential as reference
works for scholars seeking information on these texts and their histories. To
these two essays may be added the overall bibliography for the whole
volume, running to just over twenty pages, which similarly provides the
reader with extensive guidance on both primary and secondary sources relating to Catherine.
The reservations regarding the introductory function and accessibility of
the second group of essays notwithstanding, this collection, taken as a whole,
succeeds in its aim of providing, in English, an overview of Catherine of Siena,
her context, her reception both immediate and over several centuries, and of
a range of scholarly approaches to her life and significance. If a single theme
may be said to predominate across the various essays, it is that of the tension
between “the historical Catherine” who was an active and public figure, and
the “mystical and ascetic Catherine” promoted by so much of the hagiographical tradition relating to her from Raymond of Capua onward. It is a
strength of the book that the contributors seek—in various ways and with
varying degrees of success —to restore a sense of the historical Catherine.
One puzzle remains. Despite the excellent essay on the “Historical Reception
of Catherine of Siena”—which includes reference to her use (or abuse) by the

BOOK REVIEWS

137

Italian fascist regime in the 1920s, 1930s, and early 1940s—there is no reference to her subsequent and most recent re-presentation, especially in the
European policies of Popes John Paul II and Benedict XVI, as co–patron saint
of Europe. It is an odd lacuna in an otherwise wide-ranging collection, particularly since reflection on this latest version of Catherine would have offered
further opportunity to consider the theme of the historical Catherine as
active participant in public life.
The Open University, United Kingdom

GERALD PARSONS

Gerardi Magni Opera Omnia, Pars II, I: Sermo ad clerum Traiectensem de
focaristis. Edited by Rijcklof Hofman. [Corpus Christianorum Continuatio
Mediaevalis, 235.] (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols. 2011. Pp. 653. €325,00.
ISBN 978-1-84383-373-4.)
This critical edition of Gerard Grote’s Sermo ad clerum Traiectensem de
focaristis, together with a number of other pieces on clerical celibacy, is part
of a planned multivolume collection in the CCCM of the works of this latefourteenth-century Dutch churchman (1340–84). Particularly interested in
canon law, he trained at the University of Paris, where he received a master of
arts degree. He was a gifted preacher, evident in the Sermo that he delivered
to a synod of churchmen at Utrecht in 1383. He is probably best remembered
for laying the foundations for the establishment of the Brethren of the
Common Life and subsequently the Windesheim congregation identified with
Thomas à Kempis whose Imitation of Christ was so influential in the late
Middle Ages and helped to establish the basis for the Protestant Reformation.
Thomas à Kempis also wrote a valuable biography of Gerard Grote.
The sermon against the focarists—the word from the Latin focaria
(hearth), hence churchmen living in a disreputable fashion with their housekeepers—is a very strong defense of clerical celibacy. This lengthy work is
found in almost thirty manuscripts, which demonstrates its popularity and
importance. The piece is in twenty-six segments or chapters, each seeking to
reprimand and correct those clerics who failed to lead a chaste life as well as
drawing upon the authority of earlier authors such as the Fathers and later
authorities, in particular St.Thomas Aquinas. For Grote, the focarists brought
scandal to the Church and set poor examples for their fellow Christians.
Grote viewed their actions as contributing to the suffering of Christ and a
sign that he and his contemporaries were living in the end times—not surprising in a world undergoing serious global cooling and the seeming
omnipresence of the Black Death, the illness that had caused the deaths of
Grote’s parents and killed Grote himself in 1384.
The edition of this collection has special strengths.The several brief additional pieces, also very much focused on clerical celibacy, served Grote and
now his modern reader as a means of underlining the main points and to do

138

BOOK REVIEWS

further battle with the focarists and those who felt he went too far in his
attacks.They gave him the opportunity of clarifying and elaborating on such
controversial points as whether those who attended the services of notorious
focarists were committing mortal sin. Like the Sermo, these pieces are well
edited and based on many manuscripts.They prepare the way for the editions
of the remaining writings of Grote, works that have not yet received as much
attention as they deserve.The one shortcoming for those who are being introduced to the writings of Grote through this edition is that not enough is presented in the introduction on Grote’s life, a deficiency that one hopes will be
rectified in the volumes in the collection to follow.
Yet the otherwise excellent introduction does make a strong case for why
celibacy was viewed as so important for clerics by many in the fourteenth
century, just as it is in the twenty-first century. Many recent works are cited to
demonstrate this continuing interest in the topic. This book should greatly
contribute to keeping the subject in the forefront of church scholarship and,
with the later books in the collection, to offering a great appreciation of this
figure in the development of the spirituality of the later Middle Ages and the
Reformation.
University of Delaware

DANIEL CALLAHAN

After Arundel: Religious Writing in Fifteenth-Century England. Edited by
Vincent Gillespie and Kantik Ghosh. [Medieval Church Studies, Vol. 21.]
(Turnhout: Brepols. 2011. Pp. xx, 657. €135,00. ISBN 978-2-503-53402-2.)
Thomas Arundel, archbishop of Canterbury (1396–97, 1399–1414),
drafted in 1407 and promulgated in 1409 a set of constitutions that aimed at
reform in the English church, especially at suppressing the Wycliffite movement by regulating preaching (and teaching) as well as censoring translations of the Bible and biblical texts into English. In the wake of modern studies of John Wyclif and his influence, some historians have come to see the
“stultifying public consequences” (p. 44) of Arundel’s legislation, not only on
the production of literature in English but also on the entire religious and
intellectual life of fifteenth-century England. It was especially Nicholas
Watson’s far-reaching article1 that argued forcefully that Arundel’s censorship caused profound changes in the production of what Watson calls “vernacular theology”—defined as any kind of writing in the vernacular that
communicates theological information, thus covering sermons, pastoral
works, and works of devotion. Such changes were seen in the quantity, circulation, and tone of this literature.

1
Nicholas Watson, “Censorship and Cultural Change in Late-Medieval England:
Vernacular Theology, the Oxford Translation Debate, and Arundel’s Constitutions of
1409,” Speculum, 70 (1995), 822–64.

BOOK REVIEWS

139

Watson’s essay painted a nuanced picture of the effects of Arundel’s legislation on later vernacular religious literature and, by implication, on the entire
religious and intellectual life of fifteenth-century England. This picture
inspired a 2009 conference in Oxford on the 600th anniversary of Arundel’s
Constitutions.The volume under review gathers thirty papers connected with
that conference. Some argue that Arundel’s legislation should be seen in the
light of a more universal European unease and desire for reform as it was discussed at several general councils, especially Constance and Basel, where
English delegates gave important addresses (Vincent Gillespie, Alex Russell).
Another essay similarly reminds us of parallels between English and
Continental universities in the diminution of academic theological work
(Jeremy Catto). On the other hand, several contributors point to such positive
developments in fifteenth-century English church life as an “ecclesiastical
humanism” at mid-century (Daniel Wakelin, Andrew Cole); the higher intellectual level of the clergy, especially in London (Sheila Lindenbaum); a more
intensive care given to the liturgy issuing from Salisbury (David Lepine); and
monastic resistance to the political fusion of church and state that one can
find in John Lydgate’s legends about saints (Catherine Sanok) or even the
establishment of public libraries (James Willoughby). Still other scholars subject specific Middle-English texts of the period to a probing analysis in light
of Arundel’s legislation such as the Digby Lyrics (Helen Barr), the poetry of
Audelay (Susanna Fein), Lydgate’s revisions (W. H. E. Sweet), translations of the
lives of Continental saints (Jennifer Brown), and much else. Attention also is
called to the fact that in some manuscripts “orthodox” and “heterodox” texts
were copied side by side, probably for use by the same readership—the phenomenon of mixed texts or “hospitality” that had already been discussed by
Watson and earlier scholars (Stephen Kelly and Ryan Perry;Amanda Moss).
Although not all essays address Watson’s main argument of Arundel’s
negative influence directly, it is likely that in a vote on its merit no clear yes
or no would emerge; instead, a more variegated and nuanced view is possible and even required. The volume will probably not be the last word on
this issue, but the range and the quality of its scholarship makes an important and welcome contribution to it. It also shows, incidentally, that fifteenth-century English religious literature, certainly in its sociological
aspects, has emerged from the shadows in which literary and social studies
had kept it for a long time.
Chapel Hill, NC

SIEGFRIED WENZEL

140

BOOK REVIEWS

Spätmittelalterliche Jurisprudenz zwischen Rechtspraxis, Universität und
kirchliche Karriere: Der Leipziger Jurist und Naumburger Bischof
Dietrich von Bocksdorf (ca. 1410–1466). By Marek Wejwoda. [Education
and Society in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, Vol. 42.] (Leiden: Brill.
2012. Pp. xvii, 468. $221.00. ISBN 978-90-04-21241-1.)
Dietrich von Bocksdorf was hardly a household name in his own time or
our own. He was a learned jurist in Saxony during a time of transition who
played a prominent role at the University of Leipzig; was adviser to Frederick
II, duke of Saxony; and made an impression on this area.Wejwoda looks at his
life and career, his rise to prominence, his role in the politics and legal disputes of Saxony and surrounding areas, his level of involvement in the
changeover from the older traditional (mostly oral) ways of handling legal disputes in that area of Germany to the new procedures of written law and
learned practitioners (that is, the “Reception” of Roman-canonical theory and
practice into German law), and finally his career as the exception rather than
the rule for the time.
After the introduction, in a very long chapter (240 pages) Wejwoda takes
up a number of these questions. Assisted by his uncle Timmo and following
his example, Bocksdorf became a learned jurist—one of the rare German
jurists of the time who studied in Italy. He took his doctorate in both laws at
Perugia before returning to Leipzig to practice for decades.The next chapter
then details the jurist in his practice of law, followed by an overview of law
teaching and practice of that era as illuminated by Bocksdorf’s career.
Wejwoda concludes with excerpts from Bocksdorf’s writings and an extensive bibliography.
Bocksdorf did accumulate benefices and sources of revenue to fund his
studies and his career at Leipzig, but he did not, unlike many jurists of his time,
enter into full-time employment with his prince (the duke of Saxony), nor did
he seek higher office in the Church as his uncle and others had done. He
became bishop of Naumburg, but this was only at the end of his career, when
he was already ill. His own self-definition can best be seen in his final wishes.
He was a jurist at the university in Leipzig, and so he chose to be buried at the
Stiftskirche of St.Thomas in the place where he had taught for years. His attachment and commitment to teaching and practicing law is also seen in the inheritance of his library, which he basically left to the city and university.
Bocksdorf had enrolled at Leipzig and did his early studies there before traveling to Perugia. In 1438 he received his doctorate, and from 1439 to 1463 he
was a jurist at Leipzig where he served the university, the city, and the duke but
also other clients who called upon his services. In the university he acted as
rector,as ordinarius for the law faculty,and as reformer.He helped formulate the
Leipzig Reform Statutes of 1446, which required regular repetitions and disputations by the salaried doctors and that these were to deal with concrete cases.
This emphasis on “praxis” is clearly marked in Bocksdorf’s own production—

BOOK REVIEWS

141

for example,his collection of “Consilia”to use for teaching students.As a teacher
he gained fame and attracted students, as he devoted his heart and mind to this
aspect of his life. He was concerned about access and quality at the university
and worked with the duke and the bishop-chancellor to achieve this goal. He
even intervened on the question of beer supplied at the university and wanted
to maintain access and quality in this area as well.When his reform work at the
university bogged down in disputes, he withdrew from leadership and went
back to teaching and writing. He was, however, aware of and involved in issues
beyond the city walls—for example, the Council of Basel, the Reichstags, the
disputes over Pope Eugenius IV, and the quarrels among the nobility on these
parts of Germany and reaching as far as the Rhineland. In many cases he sent
reports and recommendation to the courts handling the cases. His legal activity
allowed him to become quite well off and to amass property and benefices in
various places so that he left a substantial inheritance to his family.
Unfortunately for his ambitions for his family, although he provided for the education of nephews in the hope that they would follow his example in becoming learned jurists, they did not take advantage of their opportunities, and so the
rise of the Bocksdorf family was short-lived.Wejwoda discusses Bocksdorf’s will
in terms of recent research on the concept of “ego-documents” that reveal the
self-identity of the one leaving a legacy. Such documents of Bocksdorf’s not only
provided for members of his family but also reinforced his identification with
Leipzig and his legal career there. He thus underlined his status as advocate, as
learned jurist, and as a master as opposed to those who had not attained this
status but were merely laity.
In chapter 3 Wejwoda looks at the learned jurist in the practice of law.
Here the writings of Bocksdorf found in various libraries are the sources
(Zeitz, Leipzig, Breslau, and Görlitz) even if the attribution of some to
Bocksdorf is not fully established. Some 375 local cases appear in his writings
in at least 528 texts. His clients were from many areas and at various status
levels: the duke and bishop, farm groups and bourgeoisie, and lower nobility.
His involvement in canonical questions involved Mainz, Halberstadt, Meissen,
Naumburg, and Merseburg. He was active both as a procurator and as advocate, but more information survived in this latter role since as a procurator
much depended on oral presentation.
Bocksdorf was a man of his times even as they were changing. His level of
influence in these changes can only be judged when enough material on
other jurists is available and studied, especially learned jurists in Germany of
that era.The book is a good example of such studies and brings to light a man
who worked hard; succeeded; helped others; and then, like his family, slipped
back into an undeserved obscurity. Although the book is not an easy read at
times, it opens the window to let light in on a world that was changing even
before the Reformation turned so much upside down.
State University of New York at Fredonia

THOMAS E. MORRISSEY

142

BOOK REVIEWS

Juan de Torquemada und Thomas de Vio Cajetan: Zwei Protagonisten der
päpstlichen Gewaltenfülle. By Ulrich Horst. [Quellen und Forschungen
zur Geschichte des Dominikanerordens, Neue Folge, Band 19.] (Berlin:
Akademie Verlag, 2012. Pp. ix, 195. €69,80. ISBN 978-3-05-005902-0.)
Ulrich Horst has given us, over the years, several studies of Dominican
thought on the papacy. In this brief book, Horst revisits his past work on two
outstanding papal apologists. Juan de Torquemada (d. 1468) was a Castilian
Dominican who attended the Council of Constance in 1418, studied theology
in Paris, and participated in the earlier years of the Council of Basel
(1431–49). Disillusioned with the council, which was attempting to impose
reforms on Pope Eugenius IV (1431–47), he became Master of the Sacred
Palace and then a cardinal.Among his works concerning the Church was the
Summa de ecclesia (1453), in which he opposed both the Hussites and conciliarism.Thomas de Vio (d. 1534), known as Cajetan, was a noted commentator on the Summa theologiae of St. Thomas Aquinas. He served as Master
General of the Order of Preachers before becoming a cardinal. Cajetan
defended the papacy in the controversy over the conciliabulum of Pisa
(1511–12), participated in the Fifth Lateran Council (1512–17), and opposed
Martin Luther.
In this book, Horst provides a brief overview of important issues with
some background to orient the less experienced reader of ecclesiastical history. The result is a concise work that should inspire further reading and
research. Following a foreword and a useful bibliography, the work is organized into three sections.The first is an overview of earlier Dominican thought
on the papacy. The second focuses on Torquemada, and the third on Cajetan.
The third section concludes with a brief glance at later Dominican thought
on the same topic.
The first section provides brief overviews of the thought of Aquinas, John
of Paris, Hervaeus Natalis, John of Naples, Pierre de la Palu, Guilelmus Petri de
Godino, and Antoninus of Florence on the papacy.Aquinas, of course, receives
the most attention. His thought influenced later generations of friars. Little
attention is given to the opponents of the mendicant orders, not even to
William of Saint Amour and Jean de Pouilli. Horst does, however, note that the
penetration of the mendicants into local dioceses and parishes made the issue
of papal privileges for the friars an inevitable focus of conflicting opinions.
The sections of Torquemada and Cajetan cover familiar ground. The two
men were strong defenders of the papacy, and they had to address real challenges. Both had to deal with conciliarist thought, and Cajetan had to confront
the Reformation. (The book does give more attention to Cajetan’s opponent
Jacques Almain than to any other individual critical of the papacy, a slight
imbalance in the text.) Both wrote about jurisdiction, plenitude of power,
papal authority in matters of doctrine, and the limits that canon law imposed

BOOK REVIEWS

143

on a pontiff who fell into error. Cajetan emerges as the more creative thinker,
seeking new ways to defuse challenges to Rome without exposing the pope
to the agendas of rulers and conciliarists. He also is shown to have been more
interested than Torquemada in the full extent of papal authority in matters of
doctrine. All of this is explained briefly with substantial excerpts from the primary texts to document the points made.
All of this is familiar from Horst’s past writings. So is his brief exposition
of the conciliar thought of Francisco de Vitoria. More intriguing is our glimpse
of the ideas of later writers like Alberto Pasquali and Isidoro Isolani.We must
hope that Horst will cast more light on them in future publications. Another
matter that bears further exposition is the borrowing of Dominican papalism
by the Jesuits, especially Cardinal and Saint Robert Bellarmine.
THOMAS M. IZBICKI

Rutgers University
Early Modern European

The Badia of Florence. Art and Observance in a Renaissance Monastery. By
Anne Leader. (Bloomington: Indiana University Press. 2012. Pp. xii, 325.
$65.00. ISBN 978-0-253-35567-6.)
The Badia of Florence is not on the beaten track of today’s tourist. The
second medieval church, consecrated in 1310, was destroyed in an ill-conceived reconstruction of 1628; and gaining access to the so-called Chiostro
degli Aranci, the principal surviving structure of the early-fifteenth-century
rebuilding, is complicated and requires perseverance. It is well worth the
effort, however. The tranquil cloister is architecturally delightful and is graced
by a series of important, although underrated, frescoes of scenes from the life
of St. Benedict.
In 1418 a group of seventeen Benedictine monks, led by the redoubtable
and charismatic Portuguese abbot Gomezio di Giovanni, moved south from
Santa Giustina in Padua to reform the Florentine Badia by establishing there
the new Benedictine Observance. Awkwardly tucked into an overcrowded
area within the ancient Roman city center, the Badia was the wealthiest
monastery in Renaissance Florence. Abbot Gomezio’s program of rebuilding
and decoration between 1420 and 1440 was crucial to his program of reform
and to the “revitalization of its Benedictine community” (p. 3).The author of
this excellently researched and enlightening book writes of the Badia as “an
important site of competitive self-fashioning” (p. 55) in the light of extensive
monastic rebuilding elsewhere in Florence—notably at San Marco—to establish reformed, Observant houses. Interestingly, Anne Leader shows that
shortly before his exile to Venice in 1433, Cosimo de’ Medici offered to
finance major parts of the Badia reconstruction. A small oratory opening off
the cloister shows that progress was made with this plan—this centrally

144

BOOK REVIEWS

planned structure vaulted with a dome carried on pendentives, a very unusual
architectural form at its time, was based on the Old Sacristy of San Lorenzo,
built by Brunelleschi in the 1420s for Cosimo’s father, Giovanni di Bicci de’
Medici. After his return from exile, however, Cosimo turned his attention
instead to reconstructing San Marco for the Dominican Observants, perhaps
finding Abbot Gomezio too powerful and unaccommodating a partner.
For the historian of early Renaissance art, two of Leader’s other findings
are particularly important. First, the documentary record shows that Bernardo
Rossellino, traditionally considered the architect of the Chiostro degli Aranci,
was in fact too peripheral a figure to have had any significant part in the
design. Second, through astute and discriminating comparisons between
details in the frescoes and in their sinopia under-drawings, Leader shows that
the designs are considerably more accomplished than the paintings’ execution, and she persuasively attributes them to Fra Angelico, whose “strippeddown narrative style” (p. 251) would have appealed to Abbot Gomezio.
Preoccupied with the decoration of the San Marco cloister at this time, Fra
Angelico left the fresco work to members of his substantial workshop, whose
artistic abilities proved at times to be impoverished.
For readers of this journal, however, perhaps of greater interest will be
Leader’s discussion of the Benedictine propaganda value of the cloister and
its mural decorations. She describes well the relationship between the functions of spaces within the reconstructed monastery and significant aspects of
the Benedictine rule.This she follows up in a lengthy and revealing examination of the choice of scenes from the life of Benedict for the fresco cycle, and
how these scenes and their treatment would have been understood by the
monks. She shows that Abbot Gomezio’s frescoes were intended both to
ensure that the monks “would contemplate and emulate the virtuous, pious
and ascetic habits of St Benedict”(p. 133) and to “emphasize obedience to and
respect for the abbot’s authority and autonomy” (p. 133). It comes then as no
surprise that to be able to demonstrate his support for the Observant movement, Cosimo de’ Medici looked elsewhere.
Birkbeck, University of London

FRANCIS AMES-LEWIS

Communities of Devotion: Religious Orders and Society in East Central
Europe, 1450–1800. Edited by Maria Crăciun and Elaine Fulton. [Catholic
Christendom, 1300–1700.] (Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing. 2011. Pp.
xvi, 284. ISBN 978-0-7546-6312-6.)
This collection is a most welcome and highly relevant contribution to
existing scholarship in English on religious developments in late-medieval
and early-modern east central Europe. The focus of the volume lies on page
144 in the activities of monastic orders in the multiconfessional region and in
the complex relationships between religious orders and their social environ-

BOOK REVIEWS

145

ment. As the volume’s editors aptly emphasize in their thoughtful introduction, the designation “communities of devotion” chosen as the title for the collection applies as much to the various monastic communities discussed in the
volume’s essays as to larger social frameworks formed by the religious orders
and their interactions with their secular surroundings. The contributions in
the first section of the volume look at the intensity of the mendicant orders’
activities and their effect on lay thought and practice. Maria Crăciun highlights in the volume’s first chapter the visual presence of themes and motifs
from the teachings of religious orders (Franciscan and Dominican) in the
iconography of numerous parish churches in urban and rural Transylvanian
Saxon communities as a direct result of lay endowments. Carmen Florea illustrates in her contribution the high degree of attachment to the Dominican
convents and the mendicant friars expressed by parts of the population in
three major Transylvanian towns. That the impact of the mendicant orders’
spiritual messages on widespread lay religious beliefs and practices (such as
excessive Marian devotion, relic cults, and pilgrimages) was often relatively
limited, is demonstrated by Marie-Madeleine de Cevins, who examined sermons written by two Franciscans in the Kingdom of Hungary around the year
1500. In the second half of the sixteenth century, the activities of the Jesuit
Order were accompanied by strategic difficulties—In spite of support by the
ruler and Catholicism’s status of “received religion” (despite the absence of a
bishop and a network of parish churches), the Jesuits failed to exert a decisive, lasting influence in and around the town of Klausenburg/Kolozsvár/Cluj,
neglecting important elements in local religious culture and earning a reputation of bad lordship on the estates under their control, as shown in a contribution from the middle section of the volume, written by Christine Peters.
In Vienna, however, in the early decades of the Jesuit mission the Order managed to benefit from the support of a highly respected and influential layman,
who contributed significantly to the advancement of the Order’s agenda in
that city (see the chapter by Elaine Fulton). Looking at the situation of monasteries in Lower Austria, Rona Johnston Gordon discusses in her contribution
the conflicts between secular and religious authorities, in the context of
attempts at monastic reform. In another chapter focusing on the theme of
conflict and authored by Gabriella Erdélyi, an Augustinian convent in western
Hungary becomes the object of controversy when the town community energetically protests against the friars’ neglect of the convent church buildings
and liturgical services as well as their morally lax behavior, which culminates
in the Augustinians’ expulsion from the convent and their replacement by
Franciscan Observants. In the volume’s closing section, the contribution by
Martin Elbel looks at Franciscan activities in the field of pilgrimage promotion
in Bohemia and Moravia, leading to the consecration of a large number of
Viae Crucis in the region. Greta-Monica Miron discusses the role of the
Basilian monks in the development of the new Greek-Catholic (or Uniate)
Church in Transylvania in the eighteenth century. The volume ends with a
brief overview and contextualization of the collection’s contributions written
by Ronnie Po-chia Hsia, who appropriately points out a major asset of the

146

BOOK REVIEWS

present collection—namely, that it offers “detailed and vivid scenes of lay and
ecclesiastical life” (p. 276). By presenting case studies of monastic-lay interaction and by looking into social contexts and significant historical developments, the carefully researched and well-written chapters of the volume contribute significantly toward a better understanding of dynamic sociocultural
landscapes and multilayered differentiation processes in late-medieval and
early-modern east central Europe.
Norwegian University of Science and Technology,
Trondheim

ISTVÁN KEUL

Sacred History. Uses of the Past in the Renaissance World. Edited by
Katherine Van Liere, Simon Ditchfield, and Howard Louthan. (New York:
Oxford University Press. 2012. Pp. xxiv, 339. $125.00. ISBN 978-0-19959479-5.)
In her preface to this important volume, Katherine Van Liere rightly points
out that its subject—the historiography of Christianity in the Renaissance—
is an “emerging field” in scholarship (p. vii). The first four chapters in the
volume, therefore, aim to give an introduction to this field. Anthony Grafton,
in the opening chapter “Church History in Early Modern Europe: Tradition
and Innovation,” issues a warning: “The beginning of wisdom in such a vast
field is to recognize how little we actually know about the precise practices
of ecclesiastical scholarship and how they mutated from generation to generation, community to community, and subject to subject” (p. 8). He gives a
helpful summary of how modern scholars have usually seen the differences
between Renaissance humanist historians and church historians. According
to this view, Renaissance humanist historians set out to discover an unknown
past, whereas church historians looked for support for pre-existing theses.
Humanists looked at human actions (as opposed to providence) as the deciding factors in history. They felt, in their present, a historical distance from the
past (not a presence of tradition); and they applied new critical methods to
historical sources (p. 5). Grafton shows that these distinctions are true only
up to a point, because there was much cross-fertilization: Renaissance scholars were far more interested in church history than is usually acknowledged.
Examples of this are Poggio Bracciolini, Lorenzo Valla, and Desiderius
Erasmus. Grafton then looks at church historians proper and how they took
up and expanded Eusebius of Caesarea’s model in their writings.
Euan Cameron gives an introduction to Protestant visions of early
Christianity in the Renaissance. Beginning his discussion with the idea that
“the reformers were in some senses humanists and in others anti-humanists”
(p. 27), Cameron sees a development from “humanist-inspired” to “doctrinalapocalyptic” Protestant church history in the sixteenth century. The key issue
for Protestants was to explain why error came into the Church after apostolic
times. Prevailing models of church history did not suit the Protestant view of

BOOK REVIEWS

147

the “grand-scale theological defection of the medieval Church” (p. 31), and so
the historians of the Reformation had to reinvent their discipline.The humanist-inspired histories (such as those by the Swiss Reformers Joachim Vadian
and Heinrich Bullinger) emphasized human fallibility and the deterioration of
what had been, initially, good intentions in religious life.The doctrinal-apocalyptic variants, on the other hand (such as the Magdeburg Centuries), maintained that wrong teachings and the dilution of the ideas of the Gospel
inevitably led to degradation from early on. According to Cameron, for
Protestants ecclesiastical history was not “sacred,” since they “rejected the
notion that anything in human life could be made ‘sacred’ or imbued with
holy properties through the association with religion” (p. 29).
The Madgeburg Centuries (published 1559–74) inspired a substantial
Catholic response: Cesare Baronio’s Annales ecclesiastici (1588–1607).
Baronio’s aim was to demonstrate that the Church, from its beginning, had
remained semper eadem (always the same). Giuseppe A. Guazzelli in his chapter notes that because of the “symbiotic relationship between Catholic history
and Catholic orthodoxy” (p. 61), it is difficult to establish what Baronio’s personal positions were. Baronio introduced elements of open conjecture and
speculation to prove, polemically and perhaps in a personal way, the early origins of church traditions (for example, the tradition that St. Peter founded the
see of Antioch). In the last of the introductory chapters, Simon Ditchfield discusses the term historia sacra that “was usually employed to refer specifically
to biblical history” (p. 74). For Catholics, the term could also mean the history
of the Church after biblical times, together with all its aspects (that is, saints,
liturgy, and so forth). Ditchfield demonstrates the richness of the category historia sacra as used for the internal classification of major book collections in
early modern Rome. He also gives vivid examples of the impact on ecclesiastical governance of the study of the Church’s past (a case in point is the Acta
ecclesiae mediolanensis as a “manual of Tridentine ‘best practice’” [p. 87]).
The other chapters in this book, excellent throughout, can only be briefly
mentioned here.They illustrate, first, how religious questions were integrated
into the writing of national history and how they were used to reinforce the
establishment of regional identities (essays by David Collins on Germany,Van
Liere on Spain, Howard Louthan on Central Europe, Rosamund Oates on
England, Salvador Ryan on Ireland). Second, they offer case studies of varieties
of religious history that focused neither on national history nor on the universal Church (Jean-Marie Le Gall on hagiography in the French Renaissance,
Liam Brockey on the Apostle Thomas in India, Irina Oryshkevich on early
Christian paintings discovered in the Roman catacombs,Adam Beaver on pilgrimages and Renaissance writings about the Holy Land).
This is a marvelous, thought-provoking, and readable volume that does
indeed open up a burgeoning field of inquiry to a larger audience. It contains
the right combination of larger overviews and case studies.The term sacred

148

BOOK REVIEWS

history requires some further discussion, since it is not an established term in
scholarship today. It undoubtedly expresses how Catholic historians during
the Counter-Reformation saw church history and traditions—as worthy of
veneration, holy, untouchable. Would a more neutral term, however, such as
the historiography of Christianity encapsulate better the studies presented
in this book?
Istituto storico italo-germanico, Trento

STEFAN BAUER

Reform statt Reformation: Die Kirchenpolitik Herzog Georgs von Sachsen,
1488–1525. By Christoph Volkmar. [Spätmittelalter, Humanismus,
Reformation, 41.] (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. 2008. Pp. xiv, 701. €119,00.
ISBN 978-3-16-149409-3.)
Long considered one of the most steadfast magisterial opponents of the
Reformation, Duke George of Saxony has been wrongly identified with resistance to every kind of reform, according to Christoph Volkmar’s scrupulously
detailed revision of a Leipzig dissertation directed by Enno Bünz. Countering
a century-old view originating with the work of Felician Gess, Volkmar presents the work of Duke George as a lifelong program of religious reform,
almost to the point of subordinating secular affairs to ecclesiastical ones.
The two goals of Volkmar’s study are, first, to examine the influence that
territorial rulers held over the churches in their jurisdictions before the
Reformation, and second, to see the extent to which George used this power
against the Reformation while his peers were exercising it in favor of evangelical reform. In Volkmar’s reconstruction of his diplomatic career before the
outbreak of the Reformation, George was highly committed to improving the
quality of piety in his territory and active in his support of the hierarchy.
Dedicated from an early age to religious matters, George was actively involved
in church reform from the beginning of his ducal reign onward. Aspects of
his reformist priorities included supporting the canonization of St. Benno of
Meissen and arbitrating a dispute over a Marian pilgrimage in Rötha near
Leipzig, in both cases exercising patronage rights inherent in his position but,
in Volkmar’s view, seldom previously invoked.
The bulk of the monograph establishes, on the basis of scrupulous investigation of mostly unpublished sources, that a reform agenda was well underway before the outbreak of disruptions in Ernestine Saxony. Volkmar highlights the extent to which ducal diplomacy functioned as an alliance with the
episcopal hierarchy in Dresden. The George who emerges is something of a
model of Catholic magisterial reform, addressing the needs of the Church as
part of his duty as a ruler.Volkmar’s revision provides a context for George’s
opposition to Protestantism—according to Volkmar’s interpretation, the necessary reforms were already well underway and likely to have been impeded
by interference from outside the territory.

BOOK REVIEWS

149

Volkmar sets the ecclesiastical policy of George in a new perspective,
describing an administration focused on church reform through collaboration
with the hierarchy of the region.The canonization of Benno of Meissen and
the remodeling of St.Anne’s Church were components of an agenda that, we
are led to assume, would only have been derailed by influence from
Wittenberg. As a solid foundation for such collaboration, the Albertine court
established new channels of communication with the bishop of Meissen, an
intentionally modern (for its time) model for ecclesiastical diplomacy in the
decades to follow.
Researchers will have to return to the sources to judge whether the recalcitrant George is actually a construction of confessional historians favorable
to the Reformers and scornful of any and all forms of opposition to them.The
dominant characterization of George as reactionary will no doubt continue
within the confessional historiography in which individuals are assigned
larger-than-life roles. Possibly the real George will be found between the
extremes of reactionary and reformist. But all specialists in early-modern
Catholicism will be grateful for an examination as detailed and well organized
as the one we have here.
University of Iowa

RALPH KEEN

The Jews’ Mirror (Der Juden Spiegel) by Johannes Pfefferkorn.Translated by
Ruth I. Cape. Historical Introduction by Maria Diemling. [Medieval and
Renaissance Texts and Studies, Vol. 390.] (Tempe: Arizona Center for
Medieval and Renaissance Studies. 2012. Pp. xiv, 114. $45.00. ISBN 978-086698-438-6.)
The late-fifteenth and early-sixteenth centuries witnessed on the part of
the Christians in Western Europe a revival of genuine interest in the original
text of the scriptures. Such a critical approach to the Bible was mainly
grounded in the contemporary trends circulating mainly among Italian
humanists, who finalized their intellectual research to the critical reading of
the sacred book according to the same principles that inspired their reappraisal of Latin and Greek works. However, this seemingly modern attitude to
the Hebrew text was often accompanied by a still-medieval use of the scriptures as a theological weapon against the Jews. In this perspective, the rediscovery of the “Hebrew truth” or Hebraica Veritas aimed only to refute the
“stubbornness” of the Jews and lead them to conversion. The medieval
iconography of the “blind” Synagogue resurfaced thus at the eve of the
modern age, this time nurtured by a critical approach to the book that constitutes the foundation for both Judaism and Christianity.
Those were years of political troubles, animated by hopes of messianic
redemption for both Jews and Christians. In such a tense expectation for a
better future, the adherence to the true Hebraic law could be sought as a

150

BOOK REVIEWS

useful tool to accelerate the course of human history. Jewish scholars could
be hired by Christian humanists, both secular and religious, to delve into
Hebrew studies. Jews fleeing persecutions from all over Europe could seek
shelter and employment under the auspices of the Church, and the case of a
Jewish scholar teaching a prelate was not rare. More frequent was the case of
Jewish converts to Christianity who took vows and wrote books of Hebrew
erudition addressed to their former coreligionists from their convents.
This is the background against which the story of Johannes Pfefferkorn
can be better understood. Born in Central Europe around 1468, Joseph
Pfefferkorn converted from Judaism in 1504/05 and became an itinerant
preacher. Between 1507 and 1521 (he probably died around 1523), he wrote
several works aimed at convincing Jews to convert.
Pfefferkorn is better known for his involvement in the harsh polemic
against the German Hebraist Johannes Reuchlin, a Christian who supported
the circulation of Rabbinic literature. The polemic started a few years after
Pfefferkorn had published his first anti-Jewish pamphlet, Der Judenspiegel
(The Jews’ Mirror), printed in both German and Latin by various publishers
between 1507 and 1508.The short treatise, which once enjoyed wide circulation, is now rescued from historical oblivion thanks to this first unabridged
translation in modern German and English, edited by Ruth I. Cape, assistant
professor of German at Austin College in Texas, and provided with a dense and
very rich introduction by Maria Diemling, who sets the work and its author
against the contemporary historical background. Both the modern German
and the English translation are very faithful to the original—whereas the first
one tries to keep as much as possible the flavor of the Middle High German
text, the English rendering (fully annotated) allows the contemporary reader
to perfectly understand the author’s meanings.
Pfefferkorn’s work is divided into three main parts. The first one is more
theological and explicitly addresses the Jews: its topics constituted the center
of the Judeo-Christian polemic literature of previous centuries. In the second
part, the author advises his Christian contemporaries on the means to proselytize Jews.The third part contains an interpretation of the messianic signs in
Pfefferkorn’s times. Besides the interesting details provided by the author on
the habits of German Jews, this short work reflects a significant tendency: the
birth of a “Christian ethnography of Judaism.” Jewish rituals have been the
target of Christian polemics starting with St. Paul. From the sixteenth century
onward, however, a more systematic interest in the habits of the Jews developed among Christians, possibly motivated also by the encyclopedic literary
genres that characterized Renaissance scientific thought. Although such an
interest in Jewish customs may be held as “pan-European,” Christian ethnography of Judaism seems to be mainly a German phenomenon, probably due
to the significant number of converts in an area that had seen the development of a rich and diverse minhag (Jewish ritual habit) tradition. In other

BOOK REVIEWS

151

words, converts who wrote about their former rituals had a profound knowledge of the various minhagim and could easily describe them; moreover, to
facilitate their understanding among Christians, they often Christianized the
inherent meaning of Jewish ceremonies.
The reading of this short treatise, which is very useful from a linguistic and
literary perspective, may thus contribute to unveil the rhetorical tools inherent to the dialogue and the opposition between different systems of religious
thought even in present-day society.
University of Salento
Lecce, Italy

FABRIZIO LELLI

The Roots of the Reformation: Tradition, Emergence and Rupture. By G. R.
Evans. (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press. 2012. Pp. 528. $30.00 paperback. ISBN 978-0-8308-3947-6.)
In this lively survey, aimed at students and general readers, the distinguished medievalist G. R. Evans sets herself the task of placing the
Reformation in the long sweep of Christian history. The early chapters take
us through fundamental questions of Christian origins and approach (“The
Idea of Church”;“Where Was the Bible?”), and supply effective summaries of
medieval theology and reform movements—Waldenses, Beghards,
Franciscans, and the like. Martin Luther makes his appearance on page 287,
by which time we are thoroughly acclimatized and orientated. Evans’s publishers have secured from leading scholars an impressive list of endorsements
for the book, and on the cover it is described as making “a profound contribution to the current paradigm-shift in Reformation studies.” This, however, is
somewhat to over-ice the cake. The placing of the Reformation in medieval
context is welcome (if not so very innovative), but Evans does not really have
a distinct thesis to offer on the precise relationship of sixteenth-century
reform to earlier developments, beyond noting the prevalence of doctrinal
debate, intellectually curious layfolk, and anticlericalism in preceding centuries. Nor does the book have very much to say about the consequences of
the Reformation, other than in Evans’s own specialist area of biblical
hermeneutics, which is treated at length in the final chapter. The broad scope
of the book up to this point comes at the price of a rather fragmented and
episodic structure, in the course of which some issues (for example, the
Lutheran Book of Concord, p. 318; the Dissolution of the Monasteries, pp.
331–32; the Marian restoration, pp. 362–63) are treated so superficially as to
give little sense of their context or significance.Yet at the same time, an initial impression of comprehensiveness is misleading, insofar as there is much
discussion of the British Isles, Germany, and Switzerland and very little on the
rest of Europe. Formal confessions of faith are summarized at (sometimes
excessive) length, but consideration of the social dimension of religious
change is distinctly thin. It must also be said that the scholarly apparatus is not

152

BOOK REVIEWS

always flawless (missing page references, much citation of Web resources of
sometimes uncertain dependability) and that there are a number of slips and
errors, some perhaps a result of careless proofreading.Thus, we find a confusion of Zwingli and Müntzer (p. 178), a suggestion that St.Thomas More was
a religious exile at Louvain (p. 266), the claim that the Edict of Worms predated the Diet there (p. 292), or that Cardinal Thomas Wolsey died in prison
in 1530 (p. 323). Unwary readers are likely to gain the mistaken impression
that the Council of Trent met for the first time in 1551 (p. 397).Terminology
is not always deployed with sufficient precision—it is probably forgivable in
a textbook to describe all the Reformed areas of Southern Germany and
Switzerland as “Calvinist” (p. 363), but it is frankly confusing and misleading
to use the term as a synonym for Puritan in the English context (p. 415). It is
also going some way beyond acceptable shorthand to describe King Henry
VIII as “newly Protestant” (p. 277) in 1535.Too often, the book draws on a secondary scholarship that is distinctly out of date, something that colors the
treatment of such issues as the Marprelate Tracts, the significance of Richard
Hooker, or the character of Scottish Calvinism.Taken in the round, this is an
idiosyncratic and uneven book, sometimes opinionated, often insightful.
Teachers of the Reformation will find much of interest here, but they might
want to think twice before recommending it to their students.
University of Warwick

PETER MARSHALL

Miracles and the Protestant Imagination: The Evangelical Wonder Book in
Reformation Germany. By Philip M. Soergel. [Oxford Studies in Historical
Theology.] (New York: Oxford University Press. 2012. Pp. xii, 234. $65.00.
ISBN 978-0-19-984466-1.)
From the eve of the Reformation to the eve of its centenary, a genre was
prominent in the German-language book market of the Holy Roman Empire:
the wonder-book. These were collections of stories and reports, often with
ample illustrations, of the strange, bizarre, and frequently horrifying occurrences in nature: tales of comets and natural disorders, floods and earthquakes, monstrous births and strange beasts, gruesome murders and heinous
crimes. In addition to satisfying morbid and natural curiosities, many of these
wonder-books, compiled and written by Lutheran ministers in the sixty-odd
years after the death of Martin Luther, carried a distinct theological message.
These natural wonders—and the books that record them—testify to God’s
continued presence in the natural world, and his clear and unambiguous
anger over the sinfulness and depravity of mankind. Wonder-books, in their
Lutheran representations, were doomsday books, reflecting an almost unmitigated sense of pessimism and awareness of the apocalypse. Philip M.
Soergel’s careful reading of these sources begins with a quick review of these
works on the eve of Reformation. He next guides the reader through Luther’s
sophisticated and complicated readings of the “Book of Nature,” giving many
examples of Luther’s careful and ambivalent attitude toward reports of mon-

BOOK REVIEWS

153

strous births and prodigious signs.The next three chapters (2–5) are devoted
each to the three major wonder-book writers of the second half of the sixteenth century: Job Fincel, Caspar Goltwurm, and Christoph Irenaeus. After
introducing the three Lutheran divines, Soergel situates their work in the theological and ecclesiastical controversies of their time—the Interim, the conflict between Philippists and Gnesio-Lutherans, and the dispute over the Book
of Concord—and gives the reader a concise and insightful summary of these
voluminous publications. It does not surprise that all three authors/compilers
stood close to the Gneiso-Lutheran position and espoused a strong sense of
the imminent apocalypse and the pessimistic human condition. Irenaeus, a
faithful follower of Flaccius, was especially known for his extreme views of
the utter depravity of human nature after the fall, which were amply reflected
in his selection and commentary of material for his wonder-books.The reading of natural wonders as prodigies was not limited to Gnesio-Lutherans,
Soergel reminds us; writers sympathetic to the theological position of Philipp
Melanchthon also interpreted these portents as signs of the transgression of
God’s law by sinful mankind. In the final chapter, Soergel addresses enduring
models and changing tastes around 1600 and discusses the works of Andreas
Hondorff, Wolfgang Büttner, and Zacharias Rivander, the three major compilers of wonder-books in this generation. Using the example of the 1613 flood
in Thuringia, Soergel advances an argument that a new mentality might be discernible in reading the book of nature, one guided more by curiosity and
inquisitiveness than by theological prerogatives. His suggestions for a seachange in the seventeenth century are intriguing, but the book ends more on
a note of question than certainty. Perhaps this is itself a portent of the author’s
next research project.
Pennsylvania State University

RONNIE PO-CHIA HSIA

Akten und Briefe zur Kirchenpolitik Herzog Georgs von Sachsen, Dritter
Band: 1528–1534. Edited by Heiko Jadatz and Christian Winter. (Cologne:
Böhlau Verlag. 2010. Pp. 911. €99,80. ISBN 978-3-412-20546-1.)
The first volume of this massive project appeared in 1905, the second in
1917. With the current volume the documentary record for Duke George of
Saxony will be complete for all but the final five years of his life. The commission created by the late Helmar Junghans and financed by the Saxon
Academy of Sciences has delivered a volume that meets the highest standards
of documentary editing.
Whereas the earlier volumes contain complete texts and the apparatus
conventional at the time, the present volume presents a digest of each document, with references to locations and publications of the complete original
texts.The advantage of Regesten over a complete edition of texts, apart from
saving valuable space, is the reduction of duplication, given the fact that many
of the texts have already been published elsewhere. Collections like this,

154

BOOK REVIEWS

which draw documents together without duplicating previous publications,
are an essential tool for diplomatic historians as well as scholars of religious
reform.With the careful contextualizing of each document, together with references to published research, the investigator of ducal politics has at hand a
sure guide through each episode in George’s reign. The clear and precise
abstracts are accompanied in many instances by summaries of letters by
others outside the court circle that elucidate the salient circumstances of the
document at hand.
In the present volume the net has also been cast beyond the narrow confines of George’s own correspondence and the records of diplomatic relations with the Church, to include, for example, full documentation of the
Dresden side of the Pack Affair and of theological consultations over religious
upheavals in other territories. Defense of the region from the threat from the
East is perhaps not strictly a matter of ecclesiastical diplomacy; however, the
Turkish Threat occupied much of the time of the 1532 Diet, and pertinent
documents are included here.
There is no underestimating the importance of many of these documents.
The years covered by this volume are critical for understanding the relative
stability of Saxony among Protestant territories forging strategic alliances.The
Pack Affair and the Diets of Speyer and Augsburg are moments in the politicization of religious reform that cannot be understood without the documentation from the Dresden court. From “Die Lutterischen vnd vordampten
Irrungen” of the first letter in the collection to Duke John’s assertion in the
final one that the freedom of religion that civil authorities enjoyed should be
extended to their subjects, the conditions for implementing or preventing
religious reform are the dominant issue of the ducal court.We see in this correspondence the inner workings of a resistance campaign against the
Reformation, shaped largely by George’s own sense of his role as a guardian
and reformer of piety in his territory. (To be sure, the division of Saxony in the
1480s had something to do with Albertine resistance to developments on the
Ernestine side.) Accordingly, the correspondence with religious leaders is as
critical for understanding George’s diplomatic career as the political maneuvering of civil authorities. And we now know clearly who was important in
George’s regime, and why.
A century ago the standard narrative of Albertine ecclesiastical politics was
the introduction by Felician Gess to volume 1 of this correspondence, written within living memory of the Kulturkampf. The image of a reactionary
duke has been substantially revised by Christoph Volkmar in his 2008 monograph and the introduction to this volume by editors Heiko Jadatz and
Christian Winter. Jadatz and Winter avoid merely recounting the content of
the correspondence in favor of setting the Saxon political realm within specific contexts: Saxony-Empire relations; George’s interactions with Charles V
and the Church, including his consistent support of Archbishop Albrecht of

BOOK REVIEWS

155

Mainz; and his relationship with his extended family, some of whom played
essential roles in his program of church reform. These realms represent the
main theaters of activity for the Saxon regime during these years, and the concise yet detailed narrative augments the documentary record.
Historians of Reformation-era religion and politics can be grateful for the
editors’ exemplary work in presenting the documentary record of one of this
important figure and hopeful that the final volume, now in preparation, will
appear shortly to complete this long-delayed editorial monument.
University of Iowa

RALPH KEEN

The Book of Common Prayer: The Texts of 1549, 1559, and 1662. Edited by
Brian Cummings. (New York: Oxford University Press. 2011. Pp. lxxiv, 821.
$29.95. ISBN 978-0-19-920717-6.)
Brian Cummings has produced an edition designed (according to its introduction) to make the Book of Common Prayer available to the general reader
(p. xi). This guiding purpose accounts for some of the limitations of the
volume, which may perplex the historian or liturgical scholar, even as it
makes the book more accessible to its target audience.
Cummings has chosen to use the texts of the 1549, 1559, and 1662 prayer
books—or rather, to use the entire text of the 1662 book and portions of the
books of 1549 and 1559. The psalter, the ordinal, the calendar, and the lectionary are omitted, except in the 1662 text. This makes his edition far less
bulky, but it deprives the scholarly reader of important material that is significant in the history of the Church of England. Nevertheless, the omissions
make the edition more affordable and accessible.
Similarly, the omission of the text of the influential 1552 revision of the
prayer book may frustrate those studying the development of liturgical text.
The 1552 book was—as Cummings notes (p. xxxii)—a much more radical
version of the prayer book than its predecessor, restructuring several of the
church’s rituals. Subsequent prayer books largely followed the 1552 pattern.
Yet Cummings opted to include the 1559 text instead of the 1552 text,
although the former was simply a light revision of the latter.The 1559 book
was in use for a far longer period than that of 1552, and it is this longevity that
explains the editorial choice.
Despite these limitations, this will be a useful volume to many, not least
among them students of English literature or nonspecialist historians who
cannot find another modern edition of each prayer book or who would prefer
not to squint at the page images in the Early English Books Online database.
The glossary will be useful both to those unfamiliar with liturgical terminology and to those unaccustomed to sixteenth- and seventeenth-century usage
(or orthography).

156

BOOK REVIEWS

The notes are generally helpful, although there are some substantive
errors.The blessing at the end of the Communion liturgy,“The Peace of God,
which passeth all understanding…,” was not in fact the medieval kiss of peace
(p. 704).The kiss of peace survived earlier in the prayer book’s Communion
liturgy, in the text,“The peace of the Lorde be alwaye with you” (p. 32).The
evolution of the rite of confirmation was not linked causally to the emergence of infant baptism, as the notes imply, but rather to the spread of the
Church and the paucity of bishops, who retained a monopoly on postbaptismal handlaying and anointing in the West (p. 709). By 1549, Archbishop
Thomas Cranmer did not consider marriage a sacrament, but only baptism
and the Lord’s Supper (p. 714). It is anachronistic to speak of a “Puritan party”
in 1552 (p. 757). In other cases, the requirement of brevity no doubt forced
Cummings to simplify matters: for example, the patterns of early-church baptismal procedure and the historical development of the church calendar were
each more varied than the relevant notes suggest.
All of these reservations aside, if this edition makes the prayer book texts
available to—and appreciated by—more general readers, it will have served
its admirable purpose.
The University of the South

JAMES F.TURRELL

Sposa di Cristo: Mistica e comunità nei Ratti di Caterina de’Ricci. Con il
testo inedito del XVI secolo. By Anna Scattigno. [Temi e testi, Vol. 88—
“Scritture nel chiostro.”]. (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura. 2011. Pp.
xiv, 274. €38,00 paperback. ISBN 978-88-6372-268-0.)
Caterina de’Ricci (1522–90), prioress of the Dominican convent of San
Vincenzo in Prato, was famous during her lifetime for her visionary raptures
and ecstasies of the Passion. Like many other religious women in sixteenthcentury Italy, she venerated the Dominican prophet Girolamo Savonarola
(1452–98); indeed, she was the only female Savonarolan visionary to be proclaimed as a canonized saint (in 1746). Caterina’s life and the variegated testimonies of her mystical spirituality have been studied mostly by Dominican historians, notably by Domenico Di Agresti. Drawing on Di Agresti’s studies, but
influenced by recent historiographical approaches to female monasticism and
early-modern women’s writing and mysticism,Anna Scattigno has devoted several important essays in the last couple of decades to Caterina and her religious community. Sposa di Cristo: Mistica e comunità nei Ratti di Caterina
de’Ricci includes revised versions of these essays, followed by a critical edition
of codex 2363 of the Biblioteca Riccardiana (Florence) that contains Caterina’s
Ratti (“Raptures”)—accounts of her ecstatic visions as recorded by her fellow
nuns and later redacted by Sister Tommasa Martelli in 1583.
Scattigno’s edition of the Ratti reveals new facets of Caterina’s promotion
of Savonarolan devotion.Thus we learn that Caterina described her visionary

BOOK REVIEWS

157

contacts not only with Savonarola but also with Iacopo da Sicilia
(c.1462–1530)—who had played a crucial role in the initial formation of
Savonarola’s cult—and confirmed his soul’s ascension to heaven (pp.
257–59). The Ratti also attest to convents’ contribution to the Tuscan silk
industry, by describing Caterina’s repeated prayers to Savonarola that he
increase her productivity and enable her to work “like the other nuns” (p.
174). A striking document incorporated into the Ratti is the testimony given
by Sister Maria Gabriella Mascalzoni, who recounts her initial doubts about
Caterina’s divine gifts until she once looked at her and saw “not the face of
Sister Caterina, but [that] of Jesus” (p. 248). Mascalzoni’s account, which corroborated Caterina’s claims to convey Christ’s message in her ecstatic raptures, reveals the role of her community in constructing her religious discourse.
In the essays that precede the Ratti, Scattigno portrays Caterina as a “transitional figure” (pp. 25–26). Although she had much in common with the
uncloistered Italian sante vive (living saints) of the early-sixteenth century,
Caterina lived through the years of the Council of Trent and through the subsequent compulsory enclosure of her monastic community. Hence, although
her devotion to Christ’s Passion and her emulation of St. Catherine of Siena
were reminiscent of the spirituality of earlier Dominican tertiaries such as
Stefana Quinzani (1457–1530), the prophetic aspect of Caterina’s spirituality
was considerably toned down.
In keeping with the Tridentine precepts of desired female religiosity,
Caterina’s visions stressed humility, strict observance of monastic rules, and
obedience as the keys to religious renovation. Ironically, in her insistence on
the importance of obedience and the “reverence of [one’s] superiors” (p. 62),
Caterina claimed to be transmitting the instructions of Savonarola, whose
own disobedience to the pope had brought about his downfall.According to
Caterina, when the Dominican prophet first appeared to her, he promised to
facilitate her miraculous healing on the condition that she thereafter express
utter obedience to her superiors.
As a whole, Scattigno’s book sheds light on the complex production of
women’s visionary texts and on the changing contours of female sanctity in
Tridentine Italy. Adding nuance to our understanding of sixteenth-century
Savonarolism, it also provides an invaluable testimony of female monasticism
in Medicean Tuscany. Sposa di Cristo should be translated into English so that
Scattigno’s important insights can be made available to a broader readership
and that the Ratti can be accessed by students of Christian spirituality and
early-modern religious history.
Tel Aviv University

TAMAR HERZIG

158

BOOK REVIEWS

La France et le Pouvoir Pontifical (1595–1661). L’Esprit des Institutions. By
Olivier Poncet. [Bibliotheque des Écoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome,
347.] (Rome: École Française de Rome. 2011. Pp. xiv, 966. €110,00. ISBN
978-2-7283-0910-8.)
Olivier Poncet’s La France et le Pouvoir Pontifical (1595–1661) is a magisterial work of historical scholarship. The central theme in this work is the
relationship of France and the papacy with a special focus on the development of the institutions of the Curia during the period in question.
Nevertheless, this book is far more than a contribution to papal history or
even to seventeenth-century ecclesiastical history in general, for it is a study
with broader ambitions.
The author seeks to evaluate the significance of papal actions for the political and religious history of France and his chronological limits are therefore
chosen with a view to their relevance for French history.The point of departure is the year 1595, which marked the reestablishment of diplomatic relations between France and the papal court when Pope Clement VIII
(1592–1605) recognized Henry IV (1589–1610) as king of France and
absolved him from Pope Sixtus V’s excommunication.The closing date marks
the beginning of Louis XIV’s personal reign with the death of Cardinal Jules
Mazarin the same year.
Poncet rightly points out that the restructuring of ecclesiastical institutions in the early-modern period has seldom been studied in relation to similar processes in the secular governments of Europe. He also argues that
administrative developments at the Roman Curia have too rarely been viewed
in the larger context of the Tridentine reform. Central to the study is the practice of appointment to ecclesiastical benefices, both bishoprics and abbeys,
which in the case of France was not only an economic issue but also a political one. The relations of France and the Holy See were regulated by the
Concordat of Bologna from 1516, which established the French king’s right
of nomination to benefices.
Poncet’s massive study—786 pages of text and 180 pages of appendices—
is divided into three parts.The first examines the juridical and administrative
routines involved in appointment to the major benefices in France and the
roles of the king and the pope. The second part of the book is an in-depth
study of the mechanisms of papal government and diplomacy. Was the papacy
of this era, the author asks, in a position to achieve a reorientation in curial
administration along the lines envisaged by the Tridentine reform? In the concluding section, Poncet outlines the results achieved during the period investigated with special attention to the role of papal diplomacy, whose goals
were also modified at this time.
The popes of the earlier seventeenth century, argues the author, believed
that they could advance both the Papal States and the City of God at the same

BOOK REVIEWS

159

time. The extraordinary power wielded by the pope was a contradiction to
the fulfillment of these goals.The secular rulers of the age also experienced
the tension between desirable reforms and entrenched practices— nepotism,
or the venality of offices—but in the case of the papacy the contradiction was
far stronger since this was not only a state but also a City of God.The results
achieved by 1667 (the death of Pope Alexander VII) were imperfect, but by
the 1690s the papacy could no longer practically sustain venality and nepotism, and was thus forced to put the needs of the Church before the needs of
the state. Ironically, the ideals of Catholic reform within the Curia could ultimately triumph only with the aid of a secular monarch, as the example of
France demonstrates.
Poncet’s exhaustively researched study is aimed at specialists and will
undoubtedly serve as a resource to scholars and an inspiration to future students of the field for many years to come. His precise critical apparatus and
generously constructed appendices make it an invaluable work of reference
not only to the archival sources of the Vatican but also to other collections in
Italy and France. Aside from its merely technical virtues, Poncet’s work is an
important reminder that the study of institutions is a field of rich possibility.
It also emphasizes the significance of ecclesiastical history for a better understanding of the broader political, social and economic development of
Europe.
Kristianstad University, Sweden

MARIE-LOUISE RODÉN

Dynasty and Piety. Archduke Albert (1598–1621) and Habsburg Political
Culture in an Age of Religious Wars. By Luc Duerloo. (Burlington, VT:
Ashgate Publishing. 2012. Pp. xviii, 592. $154.95. ISBN 978-0-7546-6904-3.)
In Dynasty and Piety, Luc Duerloo offers a comprehensive survey of the
Habsburgs’ international relations with their allies and rivals during the earlyseventeenth century centered on the court of Brussels, with Archduke Albert
as the main protagonist of the book. His narrative begins with the archduke’s
education and career prior to his appointment as governor general of the
Netherlands and further analyzes the relationship between Brussels and
Madrid, the conflict with the Dutch Republic, the Treaty of London, the
Twelve Years’Truce, the succession of Rudolf II, the two crises of Jülich, the
succession of Philip III in the Netherlands, and the first years of the Thirty
Years’War.With Albert as the focus during the examination of these topics, he
succeeds in making complicated political situations understandable, although
he sometimes gives Albert too much credit for political and military developments in Habsburg Europe.
From the beginning it is clear that Duerloo attaches more importance to
the events in central and northern Europe.When describing the relationship
between Brussels and the German states, including the imperial court, he

160

BOOK REVIEWS

draws on a series of hitherto unknown primary sources kept in Belgian and
Austrian archives. The “Spanish” part of the story, including relations with
France, England, and the Republic, is on the one hand based on sometimes
interesting diplomatic accounts written by French, English, Dutch, and Italian
ambassadors (although not all of them well informed, as Imran Uddin’s analysis of William Trumbull’s embassy in Brussels has shown), and on the other
hand, curiously enough, on very superficial summaries from the
Correspondance de la Cour d’Espagne, which hardly can fully replace the
original documents.
Partly as a result of this, Duerloo’s book has two faces. The part on the first
half of the archducal reign, when the relation with Madrid is of great importance (roughly corresponding to the first 200 pages), is a rather classic
account with few new insights that confirms the existing interpretation that
Madrid greatly influenced archducal politics (although Duerloo thinks otherwise).The part on the relations with the Holy Roman Empire and the crises
in Jülich, Bohemia, and the Palatinate (the next 300 pages) is highly innovative and offers, maybe for the first time, a coherent and comprehensible
account of European politics at the eve of the Thirty Years’ War. It also
demonstrates the impact of (Austrian) Habsburg family affairs on international events at the time. Most of this reviewer’s remarks are related to topics
discussed in the first part.
Writing a book of this scale is a time-consuming process. It took the author
more than a decade.The main problem with this kind of Herculean task is to
keep up with recent research and to integrate new insights that are published
after parts of the text have been written. Duerloo’s bibliography shows important gaps: Tim Piceu’s study on freebooters and war contributions in the
County of Flanders, which stresses the important role of informal war up to
1607; the essays included in Bernardo García’s exhibition catalog on the
Twelve Years’ Truce, which place the Act of Cession as well as the Twelve
Years’ Truce in the tradition of Habsburg pacification strategies in the
Netherlands; the book edited by Cordula Van Wyhe on Isabella and female
sovereignty in the Brussels court; and the essays published by René Vermeir
and colleagues on agents connecting Spain and the Low Countries in the
early-modern age. Other studies are listed in the bibliography, but do not seem
to have been consulted.This is the case with most of Alicia Esteban’s work on
the Act of Cession and its reversal in 1621.
As a consequence, several of the author’s statements seem to be based on
partial evidence. For example, Duerloo argues that Albert sought peace with
the Republic mainly because of his ambition to become emperor of the Holy
Roman Empire. He seems to ignore the fragility of the archdukes’ reign during
their first years, the importance for them to pacify the country and put an end
to informal warfare in Flanders so as to ensure the loyalty of their subjects,
and the intense pressure by the States of Flanders to do so. In his book,

BOOK REVIEWS

161

Duerloo relegates Isabella to almost complete invisibility, arguing that she
hardly appears in the archduke’s correspondence with foreign courts.This is
undoubtedly the case in the context of the archducal relations with Vienna
and Prague, but then it was Albert’s brothers who were governing the Empire
and not Isabella’s. When it comes to the relation with the Spanish court,
Isabella’s informal correspondence with Francisco Gómez de Sandoval, duke
of Lerma, and other actors in Spain shows her influence in Madrid; as a matter
of fact, she saved Albert a few times.When it comes to the relation with their
subjects in the Netherlands, her role becomes vital in the transition process
at the end of the archducal regime. Although Duerloo interprets the increase
in the number of Flemish courtiers at the expense of “Spanish” officeholders
as an indication of the growing autonomy of the archducal regime, recent
analysis has shown that this was, on the contrary, the result of a combined
strategy from Madrid and Brussels that sought to ensure the loyalty of the
Flemish nobility to their future sovereign Philip III by providing them with
positions and pensions at the courts in Madrid and Brussels.
At the same time, Duerloo does not really engage in discussions with other
historians, apart from a few references to exploded theories from older historiography. Although his list of secondary sources is about twenty pages
long, few titles are actually cited in the footnotes, which leads the reader to
believe that they were primarily used as data mines. As a result, some insights
that are presented as “new” have already been outlined by other authors such
as the Spanish faction at the archducal court not being completely Spanish,
whereas the archducal faction also was composed of Spanish courtiers, or the
relationship between the courts of Brussels and Madrid as the confrontation
of two in some ways different strategies on how to handle Habsburg political
interests. His emphasis on the prominent role of archducal diplomacy in the
making of the Treaty of London is contradicted by studies such as Albert
Loomie’s analysis of the peace process, with which Duerloo does not seem to
be familiar, whereas Willem Jan Mari Van Eysinga and others have described
Albert’s contribution to the Twelve Years’Truce.
However, as a whole Duerloo has delivered an interesting overview of
European politics in the early-seventeenth century in which he makes connections that most historians have overlooked, showing the influence of
family matters on Habsburg international policy. In addition, it is written in a
fluent style that makes the reading of this voluminous book agreeable.
University of Leuven

WERNER THOMAS

162

BOOK REVIEWS

Religion, Culture and National Community in the 1670s. Edited by Tony
Claydon and Thomas N. Corns. [Religion, Education and Culture.] (Cardiff:
University of Wales Press. Distrib. University of Chicago Press. 2011. Pp. x,
198. 140.00. ISBN 978-0-7083-2401-1.)
The 1670s, claim the editors in their deft introduction to this symposium,
were “a crucial turning point” (p. 3). Its seven essays both substantiate that
claim and bear out the editor’s view that it is the Restoration, rather than the
earlier revolutionary period, that now attracts the most exciting and innovative work in seventeenth-century studies. The collection is rich in new perspectives, new evidence, and new arguments, refreshing and revising our
sense of supposedly familiar topics as it ranges across the three home kingdoms ruled by Charles II, New England, Roman Catholicism and Protestant
dissent, identity at the national and the subjective level, literary cross-currents
and transformations, and public and private spheres.
With wonderful élan and many palpable hits, James Grantham Turner
demolishes the easy interpretative opposition of hedonistic Cavaliers against
conscientious Puritans by exploring the “paradoxical correspondences” (p.
99) between John Wilmot, 2nd earl of Rochester, and John Milton to argue
that “both were internal exiles from mainstream Restoration culture” (p. 104)
sharing far more than is generally appreciated (including a disdain for the
“vulgar” and a vituperatively obscene satirical bent); indeed, “Rochester is
more ‘Puritan’ than Milton” (p. 124). Nigel Smith’s searching account of the
rationalism, skepticism, and antclericalism of the prose Andrew Marvell and
the Buckingham and Shaftesbury circles argues that in the 1670s a profound
shift in the cultural and philosophical presumptions and expectations of the
nation laid the foundations for the “radical Enlightenment” in England.
Nicky Hallett’s essay on the English Carmelite convent in Antwerp brings to
light a wealth of archival evidence of their lives, experiences, records, and writings, although there is room to doubt whether Edward Said’s notions of the
exilic state as median and suspended are helpful in discussion of monastic
lives that, whatever their geographical location, are by choice and definition
exilic (2 Cor. 6:17). Strangers and pilgrims take a very different course in Beth
Lynch’s essay on John Bunyan. This originates in two acute and original perceptions: first, that at the opening of The Pilgrim’s Progress the author-narrator is identified as Jacob; and, second, that Esau nevertheless shadows this
figure throughout the narrative. It is well understood that Hebrews 12:16–17
tolls throughout Grace Abounding, but not that The Pilgrim’s Progress’s
apparently confident way to salvation is unsettled by continuing disquiet at
the seeming selfishness and ruthlessness—the unethical “spiritual solipsism”
(p. 79)—of the Reformed reduction of the Genesis story to a fable of election.
The current topical interest in Anglo-Scottish relations looks back to 1707.
In an excellent and detailed essay, Clare Jackson addresses the little-known

BOOK REVIEWS

163

(and abortive) union negotiations of 1670 to argue convincingly that it was
then that “the constitutional form” (p. 37) of the eventual union first took
shape, as did the political objections to it, particularly in the arguments of the
astute Sir George Mackenzie of Rosehaugh, whose posthumously published
Discourse, Jackson shows, deserves a much higher reputation. Elliott Visconsi
examines the ferocious King Philip’s War not (as customarily) in relation to
the development of an American identity but from an old-world point of view
to show that in London it was represented neither as just nor providential
(nor even much to do with the native inhabitants) but as a self-imposed catastrophe brought down on a rogue state by its inefficient and persecutory colonial government. Tackling the apparently unpromising topic of loyal
addresses, Edward Valance argues that they were as much an expression of
popular political opinion and a constitutive part of the public sphere as the
petitioning of radical politics—no mere passive expression of public support
but critical and dialogic in manner.
University of Stirling

N. H. KEEBLE

Beyond Belief: Surviving the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes in France.
By Christie Sample Wilson. (Bethlehem, PA: Lehigh University Press, copublished with Rowman & Littlefield, Lanham, MD. 2011. Pp. xii, 163.
$60.00. ISBN 978-1-61146-077-3.)
In the mid-seventeenth century, French Protestants and Catholics practiced their two faiths alongside one another wherever the Edict of Nantes
(1598) had recognized Protestants’ rights of worship. Loriol, in Dauphiné
along the Rhone between Avignon and Lyon, was one such biconfessional
town.Three-quarters of its inhabitants were Protestants, its town administration was dominated by Protestants, and a temple with a resident pastor ministered to Protestant religious needs. Half a century later, as the Revocation of
the Edict of Nantes (1685) criminalized Protestantism and mandated Catholic
practice, the town administration was firmly in Catholic hands, and inhabitants looked to the Catholic parish for their sacraments and rites of passage.
Yet in the years of transformation, Loriol experienced none of the violence
from external or internal sources that racked other French localities in the era
of the Revocation, few of the escapes from the kingdom that cost King Louis
XIV perhaps 150,000 of his subjects, and none of the overt resistance from
those expected by the Revocation to switch their beliefs. What accounts for
the exceptional experience of Loriol? How and why did this one locality
experience the Revocation so differently from other communities that
included Protestants?
This is the problem addressed by Christie Sample Wilson in Beyond Belief:
Surviving the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes in France. For answers,
Wilson looks primarily to town council records and parish registers. In the
former she finds “no indication” (p. 18) of strife as the majority of offices

164

BOOK REVIEWS

shifted from Protestants to Catholics, as well as no evidence that the new
Catholic majority used its power to harass or penalize Protestants by overtaxing them, enforcing royal orders ejecting them from a long list of professions,
or reporting their noncompliance to authorities outside the town. In the latter
source she finds that differences in practices such as the delay from birth to
baptism, illegitimacies, and the seasonality of marriages were pronounced
before 1680, but attenuated and disappeared as persons of both confessions
conformed to the practices characteristic of Catholicism.This peaceful transformation she ascribes to a determination on the part of the townspeople to
avoid interference from external royal or ecclesiastical authorities. Loriol
escaped violence because locals were willing to compromise and accommodate to their new situation, even at the cost of losing their church.
Wilson’s analysis from the council minutes is fairly unconvincing due to
the lack of information on inhabitants’ wealth and a lack of clarity in the presentation of this part of the argument. The analysis from parish registers is
more effective. After a lucid presentation of the two confessions’ beliefs
underlying the rites of baptism and marriage, she shows that Protestants conformed their behavior to Catholic expectations in ways that did not violate
their own persisting beliefs. Overt confessionalization mutated into confessionalization of belief masked by conformity of outward behavior.
Wilson’s larger argument—that the Loriol case shows the degree to which
Louis XIV’s absolutism was limited by the need for cooperation from regional
and local partners—is more tenuous. True, the religious conversion Louis
sought through his Revocation did not take root fully in Loriol, where
Protestantism reappeared as soon as Louis died in 1715. But in the 1680s and
1690s Louis got exactly what he wanted: unification of religious practice and
eradication of competing religious institutions with a minimum of disruption.
The big question raised by Wilson’s analysis of Loriol is one to which she
assumes an answer from the start—how exceptional was Loriol? Throughout,
Wilson contrasts Loriol’s peaceful, community-based transition to the violence, coercion, and resistance highlighted in the conventional story of the
Revocation. Yet research in recent years has found enough of such “exceptions” to force a reversal of the story. The mutation of Loriol, peaceful but
incomplete as it was, may well have been the majority experience of the religious moment.The conventional story has pieced together shards of violence
and resistance from here and there across France to produce a seamless narrative of persecution.The pending task for historians is to see the situation in
France as a whole and to probe just exactly what mix of aggression and
restraint, coercion and persuasion, and resistance and conformity brought
France from its biconfessional to its putatively uniconfessional state at the
end of the seventeenth century.
Stanford University

CAROLYN LOUGEE CHAPPELL

BOOK REVIEWS

165

The Polish Revolution and the Catholic Church, 1788–1792: A Political
History. By Richard Butterwick. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012.
Pp. xxii, 369. $125.00. ISBN 978-0-19-925033-2.)
In the final years of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, the deliberations of the Four Years’ Sejm of 1788–92 led to sweeping reforms and a grand
revision of the fundamental structure of the government within the constitution of May 3, 1791. Richard Butterwick, a known expert on late-eighteenthcentury Poland-Lithuania, terms these collective reforms a “Revolution” in a
bow to contemporary Polish rhetoric, but also reflecting the “substantial and
swift” changes within the new corpus of legislation of this era (pp. 7–8).And
yet, these very reforms—aimed at preserving an independent PolishLithuanian state—speeded on the Commonwealth’s final hour, provoking a
Russian invasion in 1792, the second partition in 1793, the Polish uprising in
1794, and the death blow of the third partition in 1795. The reforms, then,
were dead upon arrival. Nevertheless, for historians, these reforms continue
to fascinate, shedding light on the mentality of this era, greater social and cultural changes, and the aspirations of a nation pursuing republican ideals
amidst autocratic neighbors.
This book addresses the efforts made during the Polish “Revolution” on
church reform, primarily for the dominant Roman Catholic Church, but also
for the Ruthenian-rite, or Uniate, and Orthodox Churches within the
Commonwealth borders. Guided by theoretical considerations of political
culture and public discourse and by an analytical concern with the shifting
political balance among the monarch, the nobility, and the Church,
Butterwick carried out exhaustive research, scouring relevant archives in
Poland, Lithuania, and various European capitals and consulting a wide variety of published sources such as Sejm diaries, speeches, pamphlets, sermons,
pastoral letters, and political treatises. The bulk of his text represents the
enormous task of piecing together the arguments, counter-arguments, and
decisions as they were made, blow by blow, throughout the Four Years’ Sejm,
written in Butterwick’s characteristic engaging and lucid style. Presented in
three parts, the narrative covers (1) discussions conducted to July 1789 on
taxing the clergy, secularizing church estates, and redrawing diocesan borders
that nearly brought Poland into schism with Rome; (2) subsequent negotiations for more limited reforms that guaranteed landed estates for the church
and granted the Uniate Metropolitan a place in the Sejm, as well as discussions on retaining toleration and the church’s role in education; and (3) the
enactment and ratification of the 1791 constitution that guaranteed the
Catholic Church dominant status but preserved toleration, as well as efforts
toward creating an autocephalous Orthodox Church in Poland. Specialists in
Polish history can particularly applaud the author’s close analysis of the different attitudes of the sejmiki (local assemblies) on these issues.
The weakness of the book lies in its failure to present this material in a
broader context and for a broader audience despite the author’s stipulated

166

BOOK REVIEWS

intentions to do just that (p. vi).The introduction provides a limited overview
of Commonwealth political history, but Butterwick presents almost no background on the history of the Church in Poland or discussion of how the
Church there was faring in general with eighteenth-century Enlightenment
trends and the stresses of (Orthodox) Russian political intervention. Various
Polish historical figures or events are mentioned with no explanation for
those unfamiliar with Polish history. Chapters and even the larger sections of
the work end abruptly without an accounting of the greater significance of
the sub-arguments or any discussion of how these parts fit into some larger
argument.To his credit, Butterwick does compare components of the Polish
church reforms to those made in revolutionary France, and to a lesser extent,
to the reforms of Joseph II of Austria, but without reaching for a broader significance. The conclusion speeds through what are plausible legacies from
this era of reform within the culture of the church, including the “myth of
unity between church and nation” (p. 331), but these would have been more
convincing had some previous argumentation been provided within the
chapters themselves. All in all, this is a meticulously researched piece that has
great value for specialists in Polish history; however, its broader significance
gets lost within the concentration on micro-arguments that are not explicitly
discussed in relation to larger issues.
BARBARA SKINNER

Indiana State University
Late Modern European

Catholicism and Democracy: An Essay in the History of Political Thought.
By Emile Perreau-Saussine. Translated by Richard Rex. (Princeton:
Princeton University Press. 2012. Pp. xii, 200. $45.00. ISBN 978-0-69115394-0. )
Emile Perreau-Saussine has written the first in-depth study of the relationship between Catholicism and the republican legacy of the French
Revolution. In Catholicism and Democracy, he argues that the Catholic religion sustained a fraught relationship with democratic ideals ever since the
French revolutionary government provoked a schism within the French
Church by proclaiming the Civil Constitution of the Clergy. In requiring
French clerics to swear allegiance to the state rather than the pope, the
Constitution threw most French Catholics into the pope’s arms. It also
inspired the early conservative Joseph de Maistre to found political ultramontanism, which Perreau-Saussine describes as a form of historical pessimism and authoritarian politics whereby popes governed the Church independently of absolutist kings.
In 1814, however, the Bourbon Restoration established Gallicanism, which
subordinated the Church to the state. This spelled the collapse of political
ultramontanism as Félicité Robert de Lamennais, Maistre’s ultramontanist dis-

BOOK REVIEWS

167

ciple, accused the government of atheism before declaring that the people
were Rome’s true upholders and sovereignty’s real source. In response, Rome
adopted a reactionary position, condemning Lamennais and adopting the theological variant of ultramontanism, which led to the declaration of papal infallibility at the First Vatican Council.
In the meantime, French Catholics had to confront the new republican
tide. Drawing on Comtian sociology to set up laicity as a secular religion,
France’s Third Republic discriminated against the Catholic Church to the
extent of denying it status as a civil association. Catholics were now obliged
to fight for their political survival and to center their political thought on freedom of conscience, education, and religion.They also were forced to reflect
more deeply on their place in the public sphere. Charles Péguy emphasized
that Christians should cultivate both spiritual and political lives, practicing
humility in private but “bursting with pride” as citizens.The resulting Catholic
political thought, which defended temporal liberty and worked toward a
brighter political future, prepared the Second Vatican Council.
Catholicism and Democracy constitutes an original and valuable contribution to the history of Christian political thought. However its central
argument that the First and Second Vatican Councils were theoretically antithetical depends crucially on the unsustainable proposition that Maistre
was an intolerant authoritarian and antiprogressivist whose absolutist
legacy was overturned as Catholicism became democratized. This portrait,
indebted to a caricature prevalent in French scholarship, crumbles before
the facts. Maistre not only wrote extensively in favor of freedom of education and religion during his years in Russia, thus effectively paving the way
for those whom Perreau-Saussine identifies as democratic Catholics. After
the Revolution, Maistre also repudiated royal absolutism, developed a radically progressivist theory of history, recognized the advantages of democracy, and exercised a formative influence on Auguste Comte, the father of
republican laicity. The battle lines between “reactionary” ultramontanism
and “democratic” Catholicism were thus not as clearly drawn historically as
they can be logically. Indeed, it is disputable that they could be drawn at all.
What the evidence suggests instead is that throughout the nineteenth century, Catholics had to renew their political theoretical reservoir to carve out
a political space for themselves. They had to combat, for instance, for freedom of education not only under the Third Republic but also during the
Bourbon Restoration and the July monarchy. It is not, then, that absolutist
“reaction” was replaced by libertarian democratism and that these corresponded to the First and Second Vatican Councils, respectively: absolutism
was in any case well dead among loyal monarchists like Maistre by the turn
of the nineteenth century. Rather, it is that the Revolution obliged Catholics
to find new ways of expressing and practicing their religious beliefs,
demonstrated by the continuous and contrasting examples of the First and
Second Vatican Councils.

168

BOOK REVIEWS

In all, though, Catholicism and Democracy treats an important subject
with originality and erudition, remaining indispensable reading for anyone
interested in the relationship between Christianity and modern political
thought.
Palo Alto, CA

CAROLINA ARMENTEROS

Cardinal Paul Cullen and His World. Edited by Dáire Keogh and Albert
McDonnell. (Dublin: Four Courts Press. Distrib. ISBS, Portland, OR. 2011.
Pp. 470. €55,00, $70.00. ISBN 978-1-84682-235-3.)
It is generally agreed that the two foremost statesmen in nineteenth-century Ireland were Daniel O’Connell, who died in 1847 during the worst
period of the Great Famine, and Charles Stewart Parnell, who became leader
of the Irish Parliamentary Party in 1880. During the three decades between
those two careers the most important Irish political figure was not a statesman, but a churchman: Paul Cullen, who had spent the first three decades of
his career in Rome and returned to Ireland as archbishop of Armagh in 1849,
became archbishop of Dublin in 1852 and was created a cardinal in 1866, and
died in 1878. Ironically, despite his unquestioned significance in Irish history,
no fully satisfactory academic biography of him has ever been published.
Moreover, he was denied even the usual commemorative biography that most
Victorians of his stature received, whereas his nationalist adversary in the
Irish hierarchy, Archbishop John MacHale of Tuam, was honored with not
one, but two, biographies in the decade after his death. Nowadays, the most
reliable account of Cullen’s role as an archbishop is the first four volumes of
the late Emmet Larkin’s seven-volume history of the Catholic Church and
Irish politics from 1850 to 1891—an achievement that, together with his
theory of a “devotional revolution” during that period, is recognized by his
role as author of the lead essay in the book under review.
Larkin’s work, however, is not a biography, and neither is Cardinal Paul
Cullen and His World. It is a collection of essays on many aspects of Cullen’s
complex life. Five essays address Cullen’s relationship with particular individuals: Pope Gregory XVI, Pope Pius IX, Cardinal John Henry Newman, MacHale,
and Margaret Aylward (founder of the Holy Faith Sisters). Five concern religious issues of special concern to Cullen: ultramontane spirituality, pastoral
vision, social welfare, opposition to the government’s national education
system, and papal infallibility. One analyzes his brief administration of the
Archdiocese of Armagh.Two address his interest in art and architecture, and
another presents a fascinating analysis of the statue in Cullen in the Dublin
Pro-Cathedral. Four essays address Cullen’s major Catholic communities:
Catholic Dublin, Catholic Belfast, Catholicism in the Antipodes, and Irish emigrants in general. Two explore Cullen’s interest in Catholic institutions: the
Mater Hospital in Dublin and the Irish College in Paris.Two examine Cullen’s
relationship with paramilitaries: the Irish Papal Brigade that was organized to

BOOK REVIEWS

169

support his efforts for protection of the Papal States during the Italian unification, and the Fenian movement that he regarded as a potential Irish version
of Italian nationalism. Two essays examine Cullen’s dealings with parliamentary entities: Irish Conservatives and Gladstone’s first Liberal government.The
volume ends with the epilogue “Reassessing Paul Cullen.”
The essay that really conveys the importance of the book, however, is
Colin Barr’s “‘An ambiguous awe’: Paul Cullen and the historians.” He explains
not only the political unpopularity that deprived Cullen of an early biography
but also other obstacles such as scattering of some of Cullen’s papers as far
as the Antipodes and the failure of the Diocese of Dublin until well into the
second half of the twentieth century to maintain a archive routinely usable by
the historical profession. The good news is the recent funding by the Irish
Research Council for the Humanities and Social Sciences of a “Cardinal Cullen
Project” that includes the book under review and the research of several of its
contributors. The book is full of valuable information and analysis, promising
further understanding not only of Cullen but also of the complex Irish transformation from a world of confessional states into one of nation-states.
Carnegie Mellon University (Emeritus)

DAVID W. MILLER

The Vatican Files: La diplomazia della Chiesa. Documenti e segretti. By
Matteo Luigi Napolitano. (Milan and Turin: Edizioni Sao Paolo. 2012. Pp.
424. $22.30. ISBN 978-88-215-7414-6.)
Matteo Luigi Napolitano (b. 1962), the author of The Vatican Files, is an
associate professor of the history of international relations at Rome’s
Università degli Studi Guglielmo Marconi.This is one of several studies that he
has produced in Italian dealing with the papacy and its diplomatic activities,
including Pio XII tra guerra e pace (Rome, 2002; reviewed ante [90, 2004]).
Napolitano concerns himself in this book with a number of controversial
issues that have arisen in the relations of the Vatican with different nations
during the past 150 years. Specifically, they include the unification of Italy; the
Lateran Treaty; Pope Pius XI’s opposition to totalitarianism; the career of
Cesare Orsenigo as papal nuncio in Adolf Hitler’s Germany; the controversy
about the alleged silence of Pope Pius XII during the Nazi persecution of the
Jews; the case of Giovanni Frignani, the policeman who arrested Benito
Mussolini after the fall of the Duce’s government; the evidence of the thawing of relations with Moscow under Pope John XXIII when the latter received
the 1963 Balzan Peace Prize with the support of Nikita S. Khrushchev;
Giovanni B. Montini and his dealings with communism; the relationship of
Pope John Paul II to Poland as well as to Presidents Jimmy Carter, Ronald W.
Reagan, and George H. W. Bush, and to Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev; the
Wikileaks revelations; and a number of other related issues in Vatican diplomacy that remain current and divisive.

170

BOOK REVIEWS

Certainly, The Vatican Files is a study of great interest to contemporary historians since it is characterized by clarity in its explanations that decipher the
complex and burning issues in the relations of church and state while concentrating on the relevant documents and secrets. In his analysis of the different issues, Napolitano is careful to distinguish between interpretation and
objective evidence in arriving at his conclusions to the problems that he is
examining and to conclude most of his fifteen chapters with a helpful summary of his views. Likewise, he comes up with information grounded in
unpublished and secret sources that have become available since those controversies originally came to light.
Of those issues that deal with the Vatican and Germany, the ones relating to
Pius XII, especially his role during the Holocaust or the Shoah, have drawn the
most attention in these pages.This is understandable since this issue is the one
that has evoked the most comment among the pope’s critics and defenders. In
this controversy, Napolitano defends the pope by pointing out that Pius actually
did all he could to help the Jews despite critics who claim that the pope gave no
instructions to help Jews.The contrary evidence is forthcoming from Napolitano,
who makes use of sources such as John XXIII, who stated that he simply carried
out the pope’s orders to save Jews; the documents of the Sisters of St. Joseph in
Rome; and a number of other reliable testimonies that focus on the problem.
Perhaps the most interesting consideration (and the author’s most extensive one apart from those issues dealing with Pius XII) has to do with the role
that John Paul II played behind the scenes in guiding Poland to its ultimate
independence from the Soviet Union and his support of the Solidarity movement. Of special interest are the pope’s dealings with Soviet leader Leonid I.
Brezhnev and with the American presidents, especially Reagan. Although the
relationship between Carter and the pope was evidently a very warm one (for
example, the president signed his letters to the pope “Vostro in Cristo” and
“Suo in Cristo,” pp. 289, 293), the relationship with Reagan reminds this
reviewer of the cover story in Time for February 24, 1992, on the “Holy
Alliance” between the Vatican and Washington, DC—a story that was further
developed in His Holiness: John Paul II and the Hidden History of Our Time
(New York, 1996) by Carl Bernstein and Marco Politi, as well as in the later
work, The End and the Beginning: Pope John Paul II—The Victory of
Freedom, the Last Years, the Legacy (New York, 2010) by George Weigel.
What Napolitano has done is to help the reader understand the events that
marked the diplomacy of the Vatican, and how and why they happened.
Through the unpublished materials that he has gathered, he illuminates the
diplomatic activities of the Vatican in the last century and a half.At the same
time, Napolitano brings out the important role that the Vatican has exercised
in the international arena, most effectively in the relations with the United
States under John Paul II (see chapters XIII and XIV).
College of the Holy Cross

VINCENT A. LAPOMARDA, S.J.

BOOK REVIEWS

171

When the Sun Danced: Myth, Miracles, and Modernity in Early TwentiethCentury Portugal. By Jeffrey S. Bennett. [Studies in Religion and Culture.]
(Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press. 2012. Pp. xiv, 238. $55.00
clothbound, ISBN 978-0-8139-3248-4; $24.50 paperback, ISBN 978-0-81393249-1.)
Jeffrey S. Bennett’s When the Sun Danced: Myth, Miracles and Modernity
in Early Twentieth Century Portugal is a very welcome and important addition to the literature. Bennett’s mastery of the subject shines throughout the
pages of this book. Bennett also shows considerable courage in selecting to
study Fátima, given the complexity of the case as well as the significant controversies surrounding the apparitions.
The book consists of five chapters plus an introduction. The author’s
account of the apparitions of the Blessed Virgin Mary to three shepherd children at Fátima on the thirteenth day of six consecutive months in 1917, starting on May 13, demonstrates a deep grasp of the historical drama. Bennett
introduces the topic in his first chapter, “Signs of the Times.” The next two
chapters detail the historical events surrounding the apparitions. His final two
chapters offer a subtle analysis of the theological and political implications of
the apparitions. Bennett cleverly inverses the title of the first chapter,“Signs
of the Times,” to “Time and the Signs” in his concluding chapter—perhaps signaling the movement from the children discerning their private revelations
from heaven at the beginning of the story and then on to how their discernment and activities subsequently influenced societal cultural consciousness
and ontological awareness in Portugal during António de Oliveira Salazar’s
New State in the 1930s.
Social scientists need to treat the consequences of wide-scale, popular
religiosity more completely—not as a theological reality, but as a political one.
Certainly, some cases have taken on more lasting political life than others, but
all cases of popular devotion offer a revealing window into the political culture and life of a country. In this regard, Bennett’s new work is an especially
important addition to the literature: Fátima has exercised a lasting and significant political impact on Portuguese politics since 1917 and requires serious
scholarly treatment. Bennett provides a very useful background to those unfamiliar with Fátima and helps to contextualize historically a fascinating and
complicated story. His numerous interviews conducted for the book represent a wide segment on Portuguese society: pilgrims, fishermen, Freemasons,
former revolutionaries, and the families of the seers of the Fátima apparitions.
His historiography is careful, his writing is succinct, and his logic and presentation of the facts is careful and balanced.
Perhaps the singular achievement of this new book is in demonstrating
how, in Bennett’s words,“individual histories, national history, and the divine
history of salvation are all synchronized by and through devotion to the Virgin

172

BOOK REVIEWS

of Fatima” (p. 190). Fátima remains a defining characteristic of contemporary
Portuguese civil society, with significant implications for the larger Catholic
world. The visions at Fátima were declared worthy of belief by the Catholic
Church in 1930. Five popes—Pius XII, John XXIII, Paul VI, John Paul II, and
Benedict XVI—have supported the Fátima messages as supernatural. John
Paul II was particularly attached to Fátima and credited Our Lady of Fátima
with saving his life after he was shot in Rome on the Feast Day of Our Lady
of Fátima on May 13, 1981. John Paul II subsequently donated the bullet that
wounded him on that day to the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Fátima.
Bennett’s work is in the very best tradition of Marian apparition scholarship. His book is of equal or superior quality to other acclaimed works in this
field, including William Christian Jr.’s Visionaries (Berkeley, CA, 1991), David
Blackbourn’s Marpingen (New York, 1994), and Ruth Harris’s Lourdes (New
York, 1998). The excellence of Bennett’s scholarship ensures that this new
book will make an immediate and lasting impact in the academy—especially
so in the fields of comparative religion, politics, sociology, and Portuguese
studies.
Mount Saint Mary’s University
Emmitsburg, MD

PAUL CHRISTOPHER MANUEL

Pie XI et la France: L’apport des archives du pontificat de Pie XI à la connaissance des rapports entre le Saint-Siège et la France. Edited by Jacques
Prévotat. [Collection de l’École française de Rome, 438.] (Rome: École
française de Rome. 2010. Pp. iv, 530. €63,00 paperback. ISBN 978-2-72830902-3.)
This book gathers together twenty articles based on presentations at a
December 2008 conference at the Istituto Sturzo in Rome. The presenters,
mostly French scholars, met under the direction of historian Jacques Prévotat,
who both edited and contributed to this timely book, which takes stock of
the Secret Vatican Archives for the pontificate of Pope Pius XI that opened in
September 2006.The contributions herein represent the fruit of the first two
years of research activity supported by the École française de Rome.The main
themes treated in this collection include relations between Pius XI and the
French government, the foreign policy of the Holy See in the wider world, the
condemnation of Action française, the mission of the Catholic intellectual,
and the Holy See’s attitude toward both missions and mysticism.
After a documentary inventory by Gianfranco Armando, François
Jankowiak analyzes the negotiations that led to an implicit rapprochement
between France and the Holy See, an entente cordiale—after a quarter century of discord—based on a tacit acceptance of the Republic’s lay legislation
on the one hand, and the authority of the Catholic hierarchy on the other.The
dynamic personality of the civil servant and modernist Catholic Louis Canet

BOOK REVIEWS

173

is treated by Fabrice Robardey, particularly his work of reintegrating and reorganizing the Catholic Theology faculty at the University of Strasbourg.Agathe
Mayeres highlights the benevolent attitude of the Holy See toward Louis
Massignon’s efforts at fostering better understanding between Christians and
Muslims and to finding a peaceful solution to the problem of Palestine.A particularly effective use of new documentary sources can be seen in Laurence
Deffayet’s contribution on the 1928 suppression of the Amis d’Israël, a controversial decision debated by historians, but traced here to the group’s advocacy of reform of the Good Friday liturgy, a change that would only come on
the eve of the Second Vatican Council. Other essays in this section include
Laura Pettinaroli’s inquiry into the disgrace of Vatican diplomat Monsignor
Michel d’Herbigny and Marie Levant’s convincing picture of France as a “terre
de consolation” for Pius XI during the Age of the Dictators.
Prévotat contributes the first piece dealing with the Action française controversy, highlighting the sensitive diplomacy conducted in 1926 by chargé
d’affaires Valerio Valeri between the departure of nuncio Monsignor
Bonaventura Cerretti and his successor, Monsignor Luigi Maglione.The latter,
Frédéric LeMoigne asserts, subsequently conducted an adroit behind-thescenes diplomacy that systematically promoted candidates associated with
social Catholicism to vacancies in the French episcopate. Articles by Magali
della Sudda and Claude Troisfontaines treat respectively the roles of French
Catholic women and the philosopher Maurice Blondel in responding to the
condemnation of Charles Maurras’s movement. Catholic intellectuals receive
further attention in François Trésmolières’s examination of the attempt by
Dominican Réginald Garrigou-Lagrange to have Jean Baruzi’s controversial
study of St. John of the Cross placed on the Index and philosopher Jacques
Maritain’s behind-the-scenes supporting role in this endeavor.
The remaining pages are devoted to topics of doctrinal, educational, and
apostolic interest. Marie-Thérèse Desouche offers a subtle historiographical
revision in her article on the 1925 encyclical Quas Primas, seeing in the instituting of the Feast of Christ the King not the reactionary gesture of an intransigent pope, but an assertion of the independence of the spiritual realm—
even an eschatological emphasis in Church teachings that would bear fruit
later in the century. Pius XI’s appraisal of modern sexuality is covered in
essays by Jean-Baptiste Amadieu on the Holy Office’s circumspect treatment
of mystico-sensual literature and Guillaume Cuchet on the encyclical Casti
connubii (1930) and its rigorous position on contraception. Looking forward
to developments that would affect mid-century Catholicism, the reform of
Catholic higher education is treated in exhaustively researched articles by
Florian Michel and Marie-Thérèse Duffau, and the increased emphasis on the
role of the laity under Pius XI is underscored in Damien Thiriet’s article on
workers’ pilgrimages in the late 1920s and 1930s. Antoinette GuiseCastelnuovo contributes a fascinating piece on the role played by the
Carmelite convent at Lisieux in seeking Maurras’s conversion through prayer

174

BOOK REVIEWS

and correspondence, a conversation encouraged by Pius with an aim at the
Action française leader’s submission, and sustained by Maurras with an eye on
political advantage. The volume concludes with an article by Agnès
Desmazières on Pius’s support for a Catholic study of religious psychology as
a tool to better understand mystical phenomena.
All in all, this useful collection of finely researched articles offers less a revelatory look at a papacy that spanned the aftermath of the modernist crisis
and the rise of totalitarian movements than it elucidates the nuanced and
sometimes prophetic response of Achille Ratti to the challenges and possibilities faced by the Catholic Church in the 1920s and 1930s.
Greensboro College, NC

RICHARD FRANCIS CRANE

The Politics of Religion in Soviet-Occupied Germany: The Case of BerlinBrandenburg 1945–1949. By Sean Brennan. (Lanham, MD: Lexington
Books, an imprint of Rowman & Littlefield. 2011. Pp. xxix, 235. $70.00.
ISBN 978-0-7391-5125-9.).
As Sean Brennan demonstrates, the relationship between the East German
regime and the Catholic and Protestant Churches in the early post–World War
II years cannot be reduced to a dichotomy of communists versus clergy.
Moreover, the Soviet zone period—the four years between the war and the
establishment of the German Democratic Republic (GDR) in 1949—must be
understood as a distinct political entity and not as a preview of the ensuing
forty years. Brennan’s examination of Christian Churches—he does not
include the Jewish community—in the Soviet zone represents a much-needed
attempt to access the official policies, personal agendas, and external and
internal influences that affected the churches under socialism.
Brennan’s opening premise is that the policy of the Socialist Unity Party
(Sozialistische Einheitspartei [SED], the Soviet zone and the GDR’s official
party) toward the churches was similar to, and even an extension of, Nazi policies. Indeed, the entire first chapter summarizes secondary literature on the
Nazis’ treatment of Christianity. Certainly, scholars during socialism and after
its collapse have made comparisons between the Nazi dictatorship and the
Soviet zone/GDR, from the linguist Victor Klemperer’s comparisons of Nazi
and GDR political language (Diaries, 1945–59, London, 2003) to the historian
Sigrid Meuschel’s analysis of political power (Legitimation und
Parteiherrschaft in der DDR, Frankfurt am Main, 1992). These comparisons
have been reconsidered in multiple scholarly works (see Richard SteigmannGall’s The Holy Reich: Nazi Conceptions of Christianity, 1919–1945 [New
York, 2003]); however, Brennan ignores these discussions. Fully twelve of the
thirty-three endnotes for that chapter come from John S. Conway’s The Nazi
Persecution of the Churches (New York, 1968). Brennan’s narrow use of secondary publications about Nazi policies in the opening chapter results in a
weak and confusing beginning for a book about the Soviet zone.

BOOK REVIEWS

175

Indeed, the book suffers from the use of too few, one-sided, primary and
secondary sources—often older, general texts. Brennan’s work needed rigorous research to have proven his thesis—that is, that the SED’s policies
resulted from Soviet-imposed decisions. Brennan’s claims often lack citations
or else reference books that tangentially mention the subject at hand. His bibliography comprises fewer than sixty secondary sources: fifteen that were
published before 1989, seven German works, and one Russian book. His
archival work, conducted in Russia, Germany, and the United States, actually
covers only a handful of available files. Entirely absent is the significant documentation on the Christian CDU party—for instance, from the Secret State
Archives (Geheimes Staatsarchiv Preußischer Kulturbesitz)—or references to,
Martin Broszat and Hermann Weber’s important overview of institutions and
their personnel in the Soviet zone, Das SBZ-Handbuch (Munich, 1990).
One of the most unfortunate shortcomings of the book is the chapter on
religious education. Inexplicably, Brennan heads the chapter with a secondary-source quotation about the identical nature of Soviet and GDR education
(p. 69). Had Brennan looked at Soviet education (e.g., E. Thomas Ewing’s
Separate Schools on Soviet schools, DeKalb, IL, 2010), he would have known
that neither GDR and USSR textbooks nor schools mirrored each other. It is
an almost painful assumption, one that could also have been avoided by secondary source research on German educational history. The “unity schools”
that Brennan believes originated in the Soviet Union, to mention one example, boasted a German heritage stemming back to educational and confessional arguments from the nineteenth century—and which suffered from
extensive postwar Soviet criticism.
Other problems distract from his argument and should have been caught
by the publisher. Misspellings in German, grammar and stylistic mistakes, and
missing or incomplete citations abound.This combination of substantive and
stylistic inaccuracies makes it difficult to situate this work historiographically.
It is an important topic—but one that needed more careful treatment than it
received here.
University of Vienna

BENITA BLESSING

My Journal of the Council. By Yves Congar, O.P. Translated from the French
by Mary John Ronayne, O.P., and Mary Cecily Boulding, O.P. English translation edited by Denis Minns, O.P. (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press. 2012.
Pp. lxi, 979. $69.95. ISBN 978-0-8146-8021-2.)
During the fiftieth anniversary of the opening of the Second Vatican
Council, an excellent way to revisit the Council and grow more appreciative
of it would be to study the diary of that event of Yves Congar, O.P. The work
records Congar’s myriad activities, impressions, and judgments beginning in
mid-1960, when he became a peritus of the Preparatory Theological

176

BOOK REVIEWS

Commission, and continuing to the September 1966 congress in Rome on the
theology of the Council. Two great dramas of the Council unfold before the
reader as they involved this committed exponent of ecclesiological
ressourcement. First, one learns much about how the Council was prepared
and then how major portions of this preparation were criticized, set aside,
and began to be replaced during the 1962 and 1963 conciliar working periods. Second, Congar participated in the struggles of 1964 and 1965 to create,
after long hours of study and discussion in commissions, revised texts that
would realize the aims of the Council in ways satisfactory to most Council
Fathers, so that the texts would gain a virtual unanimity of approval in the
final votes before their promulgation.
Congar’s French original came out in 2002, from which we have now an
easily readable translation.The publication enhances the diary itself by offering five introductory texts—namely, a family note by the theologian’s
nephew, Dominique Congar; an informative introduction to the diary’s contents by Éric Mahieu, who edited the French original; a review (not accurate
in every respect) by Mary Cecily Boulding, O.P., of the Council documents; an
interpretation by Paul Philibert, O.P., of the intégrisme of the Council minority that Congar had described—and sharply criticized—in an appendix of his
1950 work on true and false reform; and Mahieu’s note on Congar’s manuscript and typescript of his diary.The introductions by Boulding and Philibert
are new in this translation. At the end, appendices are translated from the
French that supply information on the timeline of the Council, a chronology
of Congar’s work of assisting Council members and Commissions on nine
Council documents, lists of Latin titles used by Congar for preparatory
schemas and conciliar texts, the official and unofficial names of the
Commissions, a Council glossary, works by Congar mentioned in the diary
(but without indication of English translations), a map of Rome showing
places to which Congar went for meetings, and indices of the diary’s references to Council Fathers and other persons.
A major and lasting impression from this work is the sense that the
Council was in fact an enormous ecclesial undertaking, which no short formula or sound bite can adequately describe. As one reads and reflects,
Congar’s advocacy of reform and ecumenism, of respectful encounter with
the world, and of drawing on early Christian sources gradually convinces the
reader of its coherence with the aims of Popes John XXIII and Paul VI. The
challenge then was to rally the bishops, the Council’s voting members, to
make their own the needed steps toward realization.
The length allotted to this review excludes an account of Congar’s many
taxing labors at the Council, which this reviewer gave on the basis of the
French original in Gregorianum, 83 (2003), 499–550. However, the translation leads to some further insights regarding the Council documents. For the
Constitution on the Church, Lumen gentium, one must especially credit the

BOOK REVIEWS

177

sagacity and dedication of the relator or coordinator, Monsignor Gérard
Philips, who—with his Belgian collaborators—gave the text both depth and
unity of vision, contrasting with the haphazard growth by accumulation of
the Pastoral Constitution, Gaudium et spes. Regretfully, Philips’s Lumen gentium commentary is not translated into English. Congar assessed the
Constitution on Divine Revelation, Dei verbum, as having huge potentialities
for making Catholic thought and life truly evangelical. In the Constitution’s
chapter II, he repeatedly insisted on moving beyond the badly framed question of the respective contents of scripture and tradition to rightly grasp tradition in its vital character within the Church’s self-perpetuation through the
ages.At the Ariccia meeting of the Commission responsible for Schema XIII in
early 1965, Congar was deeply impressed by Archbishop Karol Wojtyla as the
latter presented a schema on the Church/world relation drafted in Cracow.
Portions of this went into Gaudium et spes, part I, chapter 4, through a text
on which Congar,Wojtyla, and Alois Grillmeier, S.J., collaborated. But these are
just a few of the many ways in which Congar’s diary leads us into the Council
event and toward fresh study of the Council documents.
Pontifical College Josephinum
Columbus, OH

JARED WICKS, S.J.

American and Canadian
The Spice of Popery: Converging Christianities on an Early American
Frontier. By Laura M. Chmielewski. (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame
Press, 2012. Pp. xvi, 366. $38.00 paperback. ISBN 978-0-268-02307-2.)
“Christian eclecticism” (p.7) characterized the sometimes porous borders
between transplanted French Catholics and English dissenting Protestants in
early-seventeenth-century Maine. By the early-eighteenth century, however,
“lived religion” in the forms of material culture Laura Chmielewski identifies
as “Protestant Ornaments and Popish Relics” (pp. 211–42) resolidified
European confessional hostilities. First Peoples who had fought as allies for
the two European confessional groups contributed unintentionally to the
process since European captives sometimes adopted the religion of their captors’ European allies. Parents who wished to leave inheritances to children
still held captive sometimes did so with stipulations that those heirs would
only benefit from bequests if they were still staunch in the parents’ faith or
were willing to be reconverted. By the 1690s the “eclecticism” of the early
Maine exchanges among Europeans and First Peoples began to vanish with
the emergence of patterns familiar elsewhere in the English mainland
colonies—that in Protestant areas “the land should be worked and the waters
fished by Protestant hands, and that Maine’s native peoples should be brought
to a Protestant form of Christianity” (p. 270).
Chmielewski argues, however, that the ferocious confrontations between
French and English settlers and their indigenous allies in the decades from

178

BOOK REVIEWS

1688 to 1727 alerted at least Protestant observers in the Massachusetts Bay
colony that this province to the northeast badly needed a shot of Puritan
orthodoxy to prevent the infection of Catholicism—the “spice of popery” of
Chmielski’s title—from spreading (pp. 3–4). A certain ambivalence in interpretation, therefore, makes it sometimes difficult to ascertain exactly what the
author wishes to argue. In the end, she seems to be advancing a perspective
that is very much in line with what other scholars such as Jane Merritt have
posited for other European-First Peoples encounters. By the early decades of
the eighteenth century, older alliances and the exchanges in cultures and religious views of the world declined as more familiar European institutions—
and especially demographic explosion—erased the patterns of eclectic
exchanges that Chmielewski has tried to recover for that earlier story fashioned by Maine’s different cultural groups. Despite sometimes heroic efforts
to demonstrate the robustness of her posited eclectic religious world of the
mid-seventeenth century, however, the author perhaps tries a bit too hard. She
has to admit, for example, that the confessional hostilities of Europe fairly
quickly put an end to the porous boundaries, nowhere more so than in the
figure of the Virgin Mary “representing both triumphal, militant Catholicism
and, for Protestants, the worst and perhaps most dangerous hallmarks of
popery.” (228) In truth, not only in this context but also globally, nonEuropeans grasped quite quickly—and appear to have made their own—commitments to a confessionally-specific Christianity, even when adapting the
faith to some of their own cultural norms. Nonetheless, this book tells a story
of a part of the North Atlantic world with which most readers will be only
vaguely familiar. Solidly grounded both in research and awareness of the
scholarly literature (especially on the northeastern geographic areas of
European-indigenous exchanges), Chmielewski reaffirms the centrality of
antipopery and its transplantation to Maine. Moreover, whatever a few elite
figures may have deprecated the act, her rather grim afterword on the nineteenth-century vandalism of the monument to the Jesuit missionary Sebastian
Rale actually suggests that precisely at the level of “lived religion” confessional
worldviews had, perhaps, never changed all that much.
Penn State University–University Park

A.-G. ROEBER

English Letters and Indian Literacies: Reading, Writing, and New England
Missionary Schools, 1750–1830. By Hilary E. Wyss. (Philadelphia:
University of Pennsylvania Press, 2012. Pp. xii, 251. $59.95. ISBN 978-08122-4413-7).
“There are some traits in the character of my countrymen that are truly
admirable, and are worthy of imitation,” declared Cherokee David Brown in
1823. “In these respects I firmly believe that Indians are more like the offspring of Jehovah, than many who call themselves civilized. I fondly hope that
these principles of virtue will never be wholly eradicated from the Indian
character” (p. 174). Thus did a Christian convert actively employ his com-

BOOK REVIEWS

179

mand of English and literacy to speak for his people, and indeed for all Native
Americans, in the face of advancing white civilization.
Hilary E. Wyss, Hargis Associate Professor of American Literature at Auburn
University, notes earlier scholarly attention to Indian literary productions such as
novels, poetry, and translated oratory. But here, she strongly validates other forms
of literacy. Acknowledging indigenous forms, including wampum and weaving,
she focuses upon uses of English literacy gained at Congregational and
Presbyterian mission schools from 1750 to 1830. She convincingly employs a
binary categorization: readerly literacy, the passive ability to read and even write
English; and writerly literacy, the deliberate use of the new skills to promote personal and communal goals, even if these clashed with missionary designs.
After contextualizing her study in the relevant scholarly literature, Wyss
briefly outlines the history of the New England missions and moves to the
sometimes surprising methods of teaching “technologies of literacy” then. In
the body of the book she examines activities at a number of missionary
schools both within and generating from New England: Moor’s Charity
School, the Stockbridge School, the Brainerd Mission School among
Cherokees in Tennessee, and the Cornwall Foreign Mission School. She also
analyzes the writerly efforts of individual converts such as Brown and Joseph
Johnson, a Mohegan who later taught Oneidas and helped found the Indian
community of Brothertown. Rather than ending with a conventional conclusion,Wyss follows the struggles to achieve literacy in the Cherokee language
and highlights Sequoyah’s “extraordinary achievement” (p. 198), the famous
Cherokee syllabary.All such developments produced even greater degrees of
writerly literacy, both in Cherokee and English.
This is a stunning performance by both Indians and by Wyss.The research
is impressive, the argumentation sophisticated, the language clear—if occasionally difficult for a plain-talking historian.There are (a few) instructive illustrations. Above all, Wyss conveys the complexity of issues, including gender
issues, relating to literacies: to indigenous forms, to literacies in English, or—
as often occurred at both Catholic and Protestant missions—in tribal languages. Her readerly/writerly model is never used simplistically: an Indian
might pass from one stage to the other, or oscillate between the extremes.
A few criticisms need to be noted. The question of race, touched upon
occasionally (for example, pp. 77, 86), might have been more systematically
examined. Wyss devotes valuable attention to the often writerly correspondence of Cherokee girls at Brainerd and even cites this reviewer’s article on
these girls as “cultural brokers.”1 Yet she avoids this term for such cultural
1
Michael C. Coleman,“American Indian School Pupils as Cultural Brokers: Cherokee
Girls at Brainerd Mission, 1828–1829,” Between Indian and White Worlds: The Cultural
Broker, ed. Margaret Connell Szasz (Norman, OK, 1994), pp. 122–35.

180

BOOK REVIEWS

mediators. Has the “broker” concept, so useful to ethohistorians, passed out of
favor? Unmentioned is America’s Second Tongue: American Indian
Education and the Ownership of English, 1860–1900 (Lincoln, NE, 2002),
Ruth Spack’s important examination of English teaching in later boarding
schools and Indian exploitation of the language.
This book is strongly recommended for scholars of literacy, both Indian
and beyond; of missionary encounters with indigenous peoples; and of crosscultural education. It is a demanding but enriching tour de force.
University of Jyväskylä, Finland

MICHAEL C. COLEMAN

Shaping American Catholicism: Maryland and New York 1805–1915. By
Robert Emmett Curran (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of
America Press, 2012 . Pp. vii, 308. $69.95. ISBN 978-0-8132-1967-7.)
In February 2012 Pope Benedict XVI elevated the archbishops of
Baltimore and New York to the College of Cardinals. As this reviewer congratulated Cardinal Timothy Dolan of New York, the new cardinal pointed
across the Paul VI Audience Hall to where Cardinal Edwin O’Brien of
Baltimore was receiving well-wishers: “Make sure you go and check out Ed
O’Brien,” he said.“He’s wearing Archbishop Carroll’s pectoral cross!” It was an
acknowledgment of the presence in Rome of an historic American Catholic
artifact. Or perhaps it was an acknowledgment by the prelate of the Big Apple
and president of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops that
Baltimore still has an historic prerogative of place in American Catholicism.
That dichotomy is masterfully treated in Robert Emmett Curran’s splendid
new book. Curran traces the nineteenth-century leadership shift in the
American Church from the genteel, measured and essentially rural Southern
focus provided by the Maryland Church to a northern, urban, and more immigrant-focused leadership embodied by the bustling metropolis of New York.
Professor emeritus of history at Georgetown University, Curran has been a
mainstay in the historiography of U.S. Catholicism for more than forty years.
The five pages of primary sources in this book underscore the author’s reputation for solid historical research and interpretation.
This is a somewhat unusual book. First, most of the chapters, in whole or
in part, have appeared in earlier versions in a variety of journals and collections. As such, each of the chapters can stand alone as a window on a very
particular event in American Catholic development. Second, going back as far
as 1976 in their original form, the chapters are a testament to the author’s
ongoing scholarly research and revision, and give us a window on the development of Curran’s own historical perspective. Finally, although the book is a
Festschrift-like collection of articles, all the entries are by the same author—
in a sense, this book is “Curran, edited by Curran.”Thus the author/editor is

BOOK REVIEWS

181

uniquely able to show us that the chapters share more than just common
authorship. Rather, he demonstrates that the very different pieces fit together
and form a pattern, delineating a gradual change in focus in the American
Church.
One very minor criticism is the consistent reference to the first apostolic
delegate to the United States as Francisco Satolli, rather than Francesco
Satolli. This work is a marvelous read for students of American Catholic religious and cultural history, as well as those particularly interested in Maryland
and New York. Moreover, it would be very useful as a one-volume supplemental text for college and seminary survey courses on American
Catholicism.
Immaculate Conception Seminary
Seton Hall University

RAYMOND J. KUPKE

Pablo Tac, Indigenous Scholar:Writing on Luiseño Language and Colonial
History, c. 1840. By Lisbeth Haas, with Art by James Luna. 2011. (Berkeley:
University of California Press. 2011. Pp. xx, 267. $49.95. ISBN 978-0-52026189-1.)
Lisbeth Haas, a California social historian, has made available translations
of the writings of Pablo Tac, a Luiseño (Payomkowishum) Native American
who was born and raised at Mission San Luis Rey in Southern California in the
early-nineteenth century.The first section includes Haas’s essay on Tac’s life in
colonial California from birth at the mission in 1820 and his departure at the
age of twelve for Europe with Father Antonio Peyri to his death in 1841 at the
Vatican. Haas succinctly presents the picture of Tac’s life during the uneasy
transition of California from a Spanish colonial territory to a province in the
new Mexican republic. Another transition, from rural colonial outpost to the
European continent and the heart of the Roman Catholic Church, is covered
vividly and with a deep understanding of the 1830s. She provides the reader
with necessary information to understand the context of Tac’s writing and at
the same time their utter uniqueness as he moved to Rome and studied for
the priesthood.The foreword was written by Melvin Vernon, tribal chair of the
San Luis Rey Luiseño community, honoring Tac for his contributions and
demonstrating that his people remain in the place Tac called home—
Cheehnajuisci. James Luna, Luiseño performance artist and cultural commentator, adds insight and images in a separate chapter. Showing his installation in Venice on Pablo Tac and a series of ethnographic photos contrasted
with contemporary photos he produced brings Tac into the present and
places him among the line of elders who maintained traditions and the living
culture through hard times.
The second part of the book consists of Tac’s writings. This begins with
grammatical notes on the Luiseño language in Spanish, Latin, and Luiseño.

182

BOOK REVIEWS

Interspersed is a “history” of the Luiseño people—a rare, first-person mix of
history, narratives, descriptions of Native culture, and personal observations.
Tac produced these writings at the request of the Vatican librarian, Cardinal
Giuseppe Mezzofanti, providing multiple variations of the stories with changes
in emphasis and detail containing an indigenous approach to narrative that has
rarely been recorded, an insight into the Native Californian culture. Here also
is Tac’s Luiseño-Spanish dictionary covering the letters A through C (that is,
words beginning with the sounds A, K, and Ch)—many further terms may be
found as examples in the grammar exercises.Tac’s original manuscript is provided in full on the left pages with English translation on the right.
Haas’s work on Tac is an invaluable volume for anthropologists and Native
scholars, going far beyond the truncated version of his texts prepared by
Minna and Gordon Hewes (Indian Life and Customs at Mission San Luis
Rey. A Record of California Mission Life by Pablo Tac, an Indian Neophyte
[San Luis Rey, CA, 1958]).This will be the definitive work on Tac for historians hoping to understand California’s Franciscan mission system from a
Native perspective and aspects of Hispanic colonial history, as well as for
those who care to hear the voices otherwise nearly absent in California historical narrative.
Laguna Beach, CA

STEPHEN O’NEIL

Christian Churches and Their Peoples, 1840–1965: A Social History of
Religion in Canada. By Nancy Christie and Michael Gauvreau. [Themes in
Canadian History, 9.] (Toronto: University of Toronto Press. 2010. Pp. x,
232. $65.00 clothbound, ISBN 978-0-8020-8949-6; $27.95 paperback, ISBN
978-0-8020-8632-7.)
The well-known authors of Canadian religious history, Nancy Christie and
Michael Gauvreau, team up in this volume to assert that the Canadian people
from 1840 to 1965 experienced their religion both inside and outside institutional churches. From this central theme they develop the argument that
the study of popular religion for the historian is as important as the study of
institutional religions. They see popular religion not as the radical religious
fringe but as “the beliefs and practices of laypeople” (p. 1) who simply follow
the forms of religion that are different from those recommended by clergy.
The authors go on to contend that although institutional religion fluctuated
during this extended period, popular religion “remained relatively constant
between 1840 and the 1970s” and grew in number (p. 4).
The authors develop their themes chronologically beginning with the
period from 1840 to 1870 when the institutional churches left their otherworldly view of religion behind to move “to more open and anonymous institutions . . . to evangelize Canadian society” (p. 60). Adjusting to expectations
of religious people, these religious institutions initially gained congregants by
voluntary attendance, but the subsequent period (1880–1910) turned out to

BOOK REVIEWS

183

be “one of the most conflictual periods in Canadian religious history” (p. 61).
Tensions rose between rural people and urbanists, individuals within sectarian congregations, and males and women’s rights advocates. For many religionists, social service became central to Christian life and replaced the concern for the fatherhood of God.
But the most pellucid of their arguments was the authors’ discussion of the
Christian missions to the Canadian Northwest. Casting doubt on the historical view of missionaries as “heroic figures” and likewise the revised view of
the missionary as an “anti-hero wreaking utter destruction upon non-Christian
societies,” the authors choose a third, more complex interpretation of mission
work as a “cultural encounter between missionaries and non-Christian peoples” (p. 107). This fresh view contends that “the aboriginal societies were
able to select and reinvent the Christian message in order to fashion an indigenized but no less authentic expression of Christianity” (p. 107). In a second
assertion about Canadian missions, the authors point out that the different
viewpoints among the missionaries, merchants, and government officials in
the Northwest were many and that they were far from an oppressive monolith aligned against Indigenous people.
Social Christianity emerged among Canadian religions between 1910 and
1940, the authors continue, and demanded that Christian conversions be
shared with the community through engagement in social reform. Both men
and women’s organizations became part of “a constellation of reform agencies, social policy research, and legislative lobbyists” (p. 142) that helped steer
the social policies of the modern Canadian state. The book contends that,
during this period, Christian lay leadership drove Canadian social reform.
In the 1960s Pierre Berton in The Comfortable Pew is given credit for challenging the Canadian churches to leave their comfort to become critics of the
middle class and the social forces that dominate Canadian life. Berton hoped
to reinvigorate social concern so that Christians would become “the central
animating force for the creation of a truly humanistic culture” (p. 180) that
would give leadership to Canadian social reform.
A decline began in 1965 for institutional churches, whereas in contrast
popular religion grew among Evangelical denominations and Pentecostal
groups. The Protestant churches espoused the “freedom of religious choice”
that thus decreased church affiliation and could no longer pursue the project
of creating a Christian society. Noninstitutional religion continued to attract
many believers who followed “a system of private practices and personal
values” (p. 199) that remained constant during this period, in contrast to the
churches that were in fluctuation.The goal of marriage shifted from procreation and the founding of a family to personal fulfillment. The authors conclude that many Canadians rejected institutional religions as “conformist and
constraining to individual freedom” to choose the freedom of noninstitutional
religion (p. 199).

184

BOOK REVIEWS

The volume is interesting and continually challenges the reader, but it is
not an easy read. The themes remain complex; the data supporting various
statements are obscure, and the number of denominations treated in addition
to occasional references to Catholicism is too large a number for a clear presentation of the complex issues involved. Yet this concise treatment of the
social history of Christian churches and Canadian peoples can be recommended for scholars, historians, and sociologists who are able to deal with its
scholarly sophistication.
TERENCE J. FAY, S.J.

University of Toronto
Latin American

Building Colonial Cities of God. Mendicant Orders and Urban Culture in
New Spain. By Karen Melvin. (Palo Alto, CA: Stanford University Press,
2012. Pp. xviii, 365. $65.00. ISBN 978-0-8047-7486-4.)
Writing on the religious orders of New Spain is not an easy task. It
demands solid research to examine the great variety of published and unpublished documents, books, articles, and doctoral theses. That would be reason
enough to appreciate this book of Karen Melvin. But the subject of her work
is what deserves special mention. The study of religious orders in New Spain
customarily has focused on the evangelization of the Indian communities.
Little work has been done on their activities in the cities where a significant
number of churches and monasteries have been established since the second
part of the sixteenth century. Melvin has dealt skillfully with this topic, studying the importance of the mendicant orders in building the religious culture
in urban centers of colonial Mexico.
Given the vast range of this matter, the author has chosen an intelligent
approach to deal with it. She has divided the book in two parts.The first one
studies general themes pertaining to five mendicant orders: Franciscans,
Dominicans,Augustinians, Discalced Carmelites, and Mercedarians.Through a
close examination of religious chronicles, manuscripts, and rare book collections, Melvin details, among other issues, the founding of religious houses in
the cities, the patterns of and reasons for their urban expansion, and the
impact of eighteenth-century reforms on the presence of the mendicant
orders in the cities. Special attention is given to the identities of each order
and to the role of their clergy as preachers, confessors, spiritual directors,
alms collectors, educators, and urban missionaries. Conflicts emerging from
these activities with the episcopal authorities are well exemplified with the
study of the disputes between the Discalced Carmelites and Juan José de
Escalona y Calatayud, bishop of Valladolid (Morelia), over his attempts to regulate the activities and internal life of the Carmelites.
The second part of the book examines the relationships between the
mendicant orders and provides a comprehensive discussion of their contri-

BOOK REVIEWS

185

butions to the practice of urban Catholicism in colonial Mexico. Given the
impossibility of studying all the issues involving this topic, the ones chosen
are sufficient to reflect the complex variety of religious experiences conducted by the mendicant orders in the cities. Notable is the study of the socalled “Ordernspatriotism”— that is, the fight for the orders’ rank in urban
society, which was especially evident in the numerous disputes over the place
of the mendicant orders in religious processions. Equally significant is the
study of the conflicts over the territories in which the orders sought to have
influence within the cities. Special devotions such as the Immaculate
Conception or the stigmata of their patriarchs also were points of discussion—for example, Franciscans, Dominicans, and Carmelites arguing for the
devotion to the stigmata of Ss. Francis, Catherine of Siena, and Maria
Magdalena de Pazzi.
The last chapter of this second part is a fine summary of the most significant activities, conflicts, and contributions of the mendicant orders to the
urban religious culture of colonial Mexico. The author takes Toluca (near
Mexico City) as a case study, as this city has hosted two major mendicant
orders: the Franciscans (since the sixteenth century) and the Discalced
Carmelites (since the seventeenth century). The discussions of these orders
over territoriality, third-order memberships, sermons, processions, and spiritual directions are a good example of the complex relationships and influence of the mendicant orders in colonial Mexico.
Melvin, evoking Robert Ricard’s classical work on sixteenth-century
Mexico, is inclined to call the activities of the mendicant orders in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries the “spiritual consolidation” (p. 267) of
Mexico. Her research could be interpreted by some church historians as
strengthening the view of the Catholic Church as one of the first global
organizations of early-modern Europe. Melvin’s book provides enough evidence to argue that the Church in New Spain is not only a missionary extension of the European Church “but [also] is best understood as part of a connected early modern world” (p. 274).
Estudios Franciscanos en Humanidades,
fray Bernardino de Sahagún
Universidad de las Américas, Puebla

FRANCISCO MORALES, O.F.M.

The New Orleans Sisters of the Holy Family:African American Missionaries
to the Garifuna of Belize. By Edward T. Brett. (Notre Dame: University of
Notre Dame Press, 2012. Pp ix, 227. $22.00 paperback. ISBN 978-0-26802230-3.)
The New Orleans Sisters of the Holy Family were the first African
American Catholic religious congregation to serve as missionaries. They
played a defining role among Belize’s Garifuna population for nearly a cen-

186

BOOK REVIEWS

tury by directing schools, developing pastoral programs, and assisting the elderly. The sisters’ successes came even as they confronted racism, gender
inequities, and poverty in the United States and in their Belize mission.
Edward T. Brett engages extensive archival research, interviews with Holy
Family sisters, and testimony by Garifuna community members to provide a
compelling and comprehensive overview of the contributions of this pioneering group of women religious. He expertly contextualizes the work in the
understudied history of African American Catholicism, U.S. mission history,
and the history of women religious.
The New Orleans Sisters of the Holy Family is chronologically organized
in two parts with the first devoted to examining the pre–Second Vatican
Council history and the second to examining the period following the
Council. The congregation developed in the racially segregated context of
Civil War-era New Orleans and the particular experience of relatively privileged free women of color. The racism of the place and time made formal
Catholic Church recognition of the religious order so challenging that the history of the congregation’s foundation remains ambiguous.
It is clear, however, that in 1897 Bishop Salvatore Di Pietro, a Sicilian
Jesuit, invited the Holy Family Congregation to take charge of a school for
Garifuna children in Stann Creek, British Honduras. Despite (or because of)
the challenges of poverty and racism that the Holy Family sisters confronted in the United States, they accepted the invitation to serve a population considered marginal in this British colony. With so little knowledge
of their mission field that the sisters were surprised to learn that their
Garifuna pupils did not speak English—and with nothing more than a contract with the bishop guaranteeing payment of their passage, $60 a month
teaching salary, and a furnished house—four sisters departed for Belize in
1898.
During close to a century of mission that spanned British Honduras’s transformation from a colony to the nation of independent Belize, the sisters
directed three primary schools, a high school, an education program for children who could not gain admission to the national high school, programs for
the elderly, catechetical programs, and a lay association. Brett suggests that a
shared African-descendent background granted the Holy Family sisters greater
opportunities for cultural engagement with the Garifuna population than
those enjoyed by white nuns: “. . . [The] black racial identity [of the Holy
Family sisters], which caused them to suffer discrimination in the United
States, turned into an advantage in British Honduras” (p. 32). As Brett documents, however, this shared identity did not eliminate challenges within the
Holy Family Congregation, where lighter-skinned African American sisters
dominated positions of authority, and Garifuna sisters struggled at times to
assert a cultural presence.

BOOK REVIEWS

187

Among the most compelling contributions of the book are the testimonies
of the women religious, their former students, and their lay associates.These
accounts reveal that the richness of mission history rests as much with the
joy and challenge of creating shared communities as it does with the concrete
accomplishments denoted by students educated, teachers formed, and vows
taken. This is, in short, an important contribution to Catholic history that
establishes the crucial role played by an African-descendent congregation in
mission history.
California State University–Northridge

SUSAN FITZPATRICK BEHRENS

BRIEF NOTICE
________
Stoyanov, Yuri. Defenders and Enemies of the True Cross: The Sasanian
Conquest of Jerusalem in 614 and the Byzantine Ideology of AntiPersian Warfare. [Philosophisch-historische Klasse, Sitzungsberichte, 819.
Band;Veröffentlichungen zur Iranistik, Nr. 61.] (Vienna:Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. 2011. Pp. 103. €16,20 paperback.
ISBN 978-3-7001-6957-4.)
In this short book, stemming from a research project of the Peace
Research Institute (PRIO) in Oslo, the author links two subjects that are currently attracting intense interest: first, the question of whether the Byzantines
had a concept of holy war; and second, the contemporary responses to the
Persian invasion of the Near East in the early-seventh century and the capture
of Jerusalem in AD 614. In three chapters, he surveys the archaeological evidence for the effects of the invasion; the previous development of Christian
attitudes to warfare; and the ideological and religious reactions by Byzantines,
eastern Christians, and Jews to the war against the Sasanians (AD 603–28). He
argues that the strongly expressed eschatological and apocalyptic themes in
contemporary writing, including the accounts of the campaigns of the
Byzantine Emperor Heraclius (who dramatically defeated the Sasanians in 628
and restored the captured relic of the True Cross to Jerusalem in 630).
Although Heraclius did not develop a full doctrine of holy war, he nevertheless played an important part in later Byzantine conceptions and contributed
to “the grand narrative of medieval Christian apocalypticism” (p. 75).
Even more important, although Stoyanov does not write about it here, was
the extent to which Heraclius’s victory paved the way for the Arab conquests
that followed immediately afterward. It is now being argued that the apocalyptic and eschatological themes that are so prominent in the Qur’an may
themselves echo the existing Christian and Jewish trends that also found
expression in relation to the events that Stoyanov describes.The tumultuous
changes in the Near East in the early-seventh century are giving rise to a wave
of new publications, including a recent lengthy book by James HowardJohnston and the Menahem Stern Lectures given in Jerusalem by Glen
Bowersock. Stoyanov covers some of the same ground, but from a different
perspective, reminding us of the many different ways in which these momentous years shaped the centuries to come. AVERIL CAMERON (University of
Oxford)

188

NOTES AND COMMENTS
________
Association Notice
The next spring meeting of the American Catholic Historical Association
will be held on April 5–6, 2013, at Stonehill College in North Easton,
Massachusetts. Proposals for individual papers or panels may be submitted
to Richard Gribble, C.S.C., chair of the Program Committee, at rgribble@
stonehill.edu. Stonehill College is an undergraduate institution founded in
1948 and sponsored by the Congregation of Holy Cross. It is located approximately twenty miles southeast of Boston and is served by both the Boston
and Providence airports. For details on transportation, lodging, and registration, contact Father Gribble.
Archives
Controversy has erupted over the plan to disperse the Scottish Catholic
Archives, currently housed in Columba House in Edinburgh, to regional centers while a new episcopal center is constructed in Glasgow and to sell off
some of the items in the collection to pay for the shortfall in funding the
center. Pre-Restoration (1878) materials are to go to the library of the
University of Aberdeen, whereas post-Restoration items are to be returned
to their diocese of origins until the new center is ready to house them.
Critics have claimed that Edinburgh, which hosts the National Library and
National Galleries of Scotland, is a more appropriate location for a centralized archive. As some Catholic materials on loan are already housed in the
National Library of Scotland, critics contend that it is more logical to send
materials there rather than Aberdeen, which is in the northeastern corner
of the country. Questions of finance and regional loyalty are influencing the
debate.
Michael F. Lombardo (Anna Maria College, Paxton, MA), has submitted the
following report on the “Archival Sources for the Life and Career of John J.
Wynne, S.J. (1859–1948)”:
Few individuals shaped the course of early-twentieth-century American
Catholicism more than John J.Wynne, S.J. (1859–1948). As founder of two of
the most successful publishing ventures in American Catholic history—the
national Catholic weekly America (1909) and the original Catholic
Encyclopedia (1907–14)—Wynne left an indelible impression on American
Catholic intellectual life.Wynne was among the American Catholic Historical
Association’s founding members and also served, at Peter Guilday’s urging, as
189

190

NOTES AND COMMENTS

the association’s first vice-president in 1921. Less well-known, but equally
important, was his lifelong work as vice-postulator for the canonization
causes of the first American saints, the North American Martyrs, and as vicepostulator for Kateri Tekakwitha, who was canonized on October 21, 2012.
Perhaps due to the fact that Wynne never held a permanent academic
post, his papers were scattered upon his death in 1948. Today, the bulk of
materials related to his professional career can be found in five collections.
The Archives of the New York Province of the Society of Jesus contain
Wynne’s personnel file, which includes biographical information and several
photographs related to his long career as a Jesuit. The archives also include
five bound volumes that contain the original minutes of the editors’ meetings
of the Catholic Encyclopedia, as well as a significant number of pamphlets
issued by the Encyclopedia Press and the Universal Knowledge Foundation.
Documents related to the founding of America magazine and several collections of personal correspondence fill out the collection. Notable among these
are documents detailing Wynne’s work with the State and War Departments
regarding the settlement of claims in the Philippines, letters detailing his
work to secure publication rights to the Jesuit Relations, and an extended correspondence with New York State Board of Education Regent and State
Supreme Court Justice Eugene A. Philbin.
The Special Collections of the Georgetown University Libraries houses the
archives of America magazine.This collection includes additional correspondence from the Messenger of the Sacred Heart dating back to approximately
1900—shortly before the journal was separated from the Messenger (1902),
which was converted into America in 1909.
The American Catholic History Research Center and University Archives at
The Catholic University of America contains the archives of the Catholic
Encyclopedia.This collection contains the correspondence of the editors of
the encyclopedia to 1936; ancillary materials related to the publication of the
encyclopedia; several original proofs; personal subject folders belonging to
Wynne; and a broad collection of materials related to the Cyclopedia of
Universal Knowledge. The personal papers of Guilday, also at The Catholic
University of America, contain an extensive correspondence with Wynne
about the Catholic Encyclopedia; Guilday served as an editor of the second
edition of the encyclopedia published in 1936.
The archives at the National Shrine of North American Martyrs in
Auriesville, New York, contains material related to Wynne’s time as director of
the shrine and additional documents related to the publication of the Jesuit
Relations.
Finally, the Special Collections and University Archives of Marquette
University contains the records of the Marquette League for Catholic Indian

NOTES AND COMMENTS

191

Missions, an organization based in New York City that worked with the
Bureau of Catholic Indian Missions for the relief and education of the Native
American population of the United States and for the canonization of
Tekakwitha.This collection includes correspondence, lectures, and presentations by Wynne, who served as a director of the organization.
Upon his death in 1948, Wynne was widely heralded as a giant of earlytwentieth-century American Catholicism. In his 1955 speech, “American
Catholics and the Intellectual Life,” Msgr. John Tracy Ellis called the Catholic
Encyclopedia “the greatest single monument to Catholic scholarship in the
United States to date” and lauded Wynne for his advocacy of Catholic literacy
and education. However, for all of his professional accomplishments, it was
the canonization of Tekakwitha that remained dearest to Wynne’s heart in his
final years.Among the few extant portraits of Wynne in the archives is a rare
photograph that shows him smiling sheepishly as he wears a Native American
headdress. On the back of the photo, he had typed the following inscription:
Ondessonk,“Ever Bright Light,”
Same name as Indians gave Father Jogues,
given me July 1, 1934 at Caughnawaga, Canada,
when inducted honorary chieftain of the Iroquois
for my efforts for the beatification of Tekakwitha,
venerated by them as “Lily of the Mohawks,” one of their Five Nations.

Research Project
Directed by Roberto Rusconi, Ricerca sull’Inchiesta della Congregazione
dell’Indice (RICI) is a collaborative project that surveys books held by various
religious houses in Italy at the end of the sixteenth century.The Congregation
of the Index of Prohibited Books ordered a listing of such books. Volumes
containing these lists were transferred in 1917 to the Biblioteca Apostolica
Vaticana and are preserved there as Vaticani Latini 11266–11326.
Systematically studying these lists is a team of scholars; each scholar is concentrating on a different religious order. For more information on the project,
visit http://ebusiness.taipropora.it/bib/index.asp.
Quincentenary
At First Vespers of the Solemnity of All Saints Pope Benedict XVI commemorated Pope Julius II’s inauguration on November 1, 1512, of the fresco
of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. The pope recalled that Michelangelo, at
the request of Julius, executed the fresco in about four years (1508–12), and
he quoted Giorgio Vasari’s famous passage in the Lives of the Most Eminent
Painters, Sculptors, and Architects:“This work was and is truly the lamp of
our art that gave so much benefit and light to the art of painting, which has
been sufficient to illuminate the world.”

192

NOTES AND COMMENTS

Conferences and Meetings
The Newberry Library of Chicago will sponsor the conference “Early
Modern Religious: Comparative Contexts” on March 21–23, 2013. Sixteen
speakers from Canada, England, Italy, Scotland, and the United States will
examine the frontier between religious and lay life, crossing national borders
as well as comparing male and female orders. For more information, email
renaissance@newberry.org, or visit the web site http://www.newberry.org/
renaissance.
The Newberry also is sponsoring a summer institute on Spanish paleography for fifteen advanced graduate students and junior faculty members at
American and Canadian institutions. The deadline for application is March 1.
2013. For more information, visit http://www.newberry.org/sites/default/
files/calendar-attachments/SpanishPaleography213.pdf or http://newberry
.org/06032013-2013-mellon-summer-institute-spanish-paleography.
In addition, the Newberry Center for Renaissance Studies is sponsoring a
summer institute in French paleography under the direction of Marc Smith
(École Nationale des Chartes, Paris), which will be held on July 22–August 16,
2013, at the Getty Research Institute in Los Angeles. The application deadline
is March 1, 2013; first consideration will be given to advanced graduate students and junior faculty members at U.S. colleges and universities. For more
information, visit: http://www.newberry.org/07222013-2013-mellon-summerinstitute-french-paleography. Requests for application material should be
emailed to kdecker@getty.edu.
The American Cusanus Society will sponsor two sessions at the meeting
of the Renaissance Society of America in San Diego on April 4–6, 2013. The
theme of both is “Instruments of the Mind: Tools Real and Imagined in
Northern European Philosophy, 1400–1600.” For further information, email
David Albertson at the School of Religion in the University of Southern
California at dalberts@usc.edu.
A conference on “I Santi Cirillo e Metodio e la loro eredità religiosa e culturale, ponte tra l’Oriente e l’Occidente” will be held in Bratislava, Slovakia, on
May 8–12, 2013. Sponsors are the Catholic University of Bratislava, the
Pontifical Committee on Historical Sciences, the Institute of Universal History
of the Russian Academy of Sciences of Moscow, and the Department for
Foreign Relations of the Orthodox Patriarchate of Moscow. For the program
and other details, email addetto@historia.va.
The Université de Lille in France is sponsoring the conference “La
Dramatique Conciliare: Coups de théatre, tactique et sincérite des convictions
dans les débates conciliaries de l’Antiquité à Vatican II” on May 15–17, 2013.
Twenty-eight speakers from Austria, Belgium, Canada, France, Italy, Spain, and

NOTES AND COMMENTS

193

the United States will address various aspects of the topic. For more information on the program, email Charles Mériaux at Charles.meriaux@uni-lille3.fr.
The Académie Internationale des Sciences Religieuses will sponsor the
conference “The Formulas of Convocation in Orthodox Synods,” which will
be held at the Penteli Monastery in Greece on May 18, 2013. For more information, contact Frederick Lauritzen at lauritzen@fscire.it, or visit the website
http://www.lesacademies.org/alsr/index.html.
The eightieth annual meeting of the Canadian Catholic Historical
Association (CCHA) will be held at the University of Victoria on June 3–4,
2013, in conjunction with the Annual Congress of the Canadian Federation of
the Humanities and Social Sciences. The main theme of the congress is
“Intersections and Edges.” The CCHA invites proposals for scholarly papers,
especially such as deal with the Congress theme as it relates to Canadian
Catholic history, but proposals dealing with any aspect of the history of the
Catholic Church or Catholicism in Canada will be considered. Inquiries
should be emailed to Edward MacDonald, president of the CCHA and chair of
the Program Committee, at gemacdonald@upei.ca.
The National Endowment for the Humanities is sponsoring a summer institute in St. Louis on June 3–28, 2013, for university teachers and advanced graduate students who wish to investigate the topic “Empires and Interactions
across the Early Modern World, 1400–1800.” Among the topics to be investigated are the globalization of Islam, Christianity, and Judaism and the encounters of missionaries with native peoples.The deadline for application is March
4, 2013. For more information, visit http://sites.slu.edu/empiresandinteractions,
or email inquiries to empires.interactions@gmail.com.
A conference on “Das Konzil von Trient und die Katholische
Konfessionskultur (1563–2013),” marking the 450th anniversary of the conclusion of the Council of Trent, will be held on September 18–21, 2013, in the
Catholic Academy of the Archdiocese of Freiburg.The program can be found
at http://www.corpus-catholicorum.de/.
The forty-first international conference on Franciscan studies,“Ubertino da
Casale,” will take place in Assisi on October 18–20, 2013. Alberto Cadili will
deliver a paper on “L’‘enigma’ degli ultimi anni di Ubertino.” For further
details, email Cadili at cadili@fscire.it.
The Sixteenth Century Society and Conference will hold its annual meeting in San Juan, Puerto Rico, on October 24–27, 2013. The deadline for submitting proposals is March 15, 2013, and they must be submitted via the
online submissions program website: http://www.sixteenthcentury.org/conference. For more information, email Elizabeth A. Lehfeldt, program chair, at
e.lehfeldt@csuohio.edu.

194

NOTES AND COMMENTS

Planning is underway for the conference of the International Commission
of Historical Sciences to be held in Jinan, China, on August 23–29, 2015.The
Pontifical Committee on Historical Sciences will sponsor the roundtable “Les
grandes archives et les grandes bibliothèques, sources de l’histoire de l’humanité.”
A call for papers has been issued for the conference “Encounters between
Jesuits and Protestants in Asia,” which will be held at the Macau Ricci Institute
on November 9–11, 2016. The submission deadline is May 31, 2013. Further
information may be found at the following website: http://www.rsa.org/
news/112561/CFP-Encounters-between-Jesuits-and-Protestants-in-Asia.htm
Journal
A new quarterly periodical, Journal of Jesuit Studies, will be launched
in 2014, the bicentenary of the restoration of the Society of Jesus. Published
by Brill, it will appear both in print and online. The language used will be
English, but translations of important articles in other languages, especially
non-Western and Slavic languages, will be presented. The editor-in-chief is
Robert A. Maryks (Brooklyn Community College, City University of New
York); the book review editor is Jonathan Wright (Durham University,
United Kingdom). Maryks also will edit a new “Series of Jesuit Studies,”
which will likewise be published by Brill. The journal will aim at helping
scholars to be better oriented in the rapidly expanding field of Jesuit history
and will emphasize the areas of Jesuit history that have been generally neglected. The monographic series will be focused on the same mission. The
editors will present a variety of topics but intend to produce thematic
issues that will illustrate the interdisciplinary nature of the journal. Each
article will be rigorously and confidentially peer-reviewed by two experts.
Every fourth issue will contain the most recent bibliography in Jesuit studies. The book reviews will treat works both in English and in foreign languages, especially those based on Jesuit archival or bibliographic resources.
There also will be short notices that will keep readers acquainted with the
latest scholarship. To submit an article, email Maryks at Robert.Maryks@
bbc.cuny.edu.
Saints
On Pentecost 2012, Pope Benedict XVI proclaimed:
We, having obtained the opinions of numerous brothers in the episcopate
and of many of Christ’s faithful throughout the world, having consulted the
Congregation for the Causes of Saints, after mature deliberation and with
certain knowledge, and by the fullness of the apostolic power, declare St.
Hildegard of Bingen, professed nun of the Order of St. Benedict, doctor of
the Universal Church.

NOTES AND COMMENTS

195

The pope set September 17 as St. Hildegard’s feast day. She died in 1179 at
age eighty-one, and although she had been venerated for centuries, she had
never been officially canonized.
Publications
A special issue of the Journal of Ancient Christianity—Zeitschrift für
Antikes Christentum for 2012 (vol. 16, no. 1) is titled “Between Education and
Conversion: Ways of Approaching Religion in Late Antiquity.” Edited by Peter
Gemeinhardt and Tobias Georges, it contains papers delivered at an Oxford
workshop on August 9–10, 2011, as follows: Jörg Ulrich,“What Do We Know
about Justin’s ‘School’ in Rome?” (pp. 62–74);Tobias Georges,“Justin’s School
in Rome—Reflections on Early Christian ‘Schools’” (pp. 75–87); Peter
Gemeinhardt, “In Search of Christian Paideia: Education and Conversion in
Early Christian Biography” (pp. 88–98); Ilka Issermann, “Did Christian Ethics
Have Any Influence on the Conversion to Christianity?” (pp. 99–112);Andrea
Villani, “Nos ergo soli innocentes! (Apologeticum 45,1): Innocence as a
Marker of Christian Affiliation in Tertullian’s Apologeticum” (pp. 113–28);
Jakob Engberg,“The Education and (Self-)Affirmation of (Recent or Potential)
Converts: The Case of Cyprian and the Ad Donatum” (pp. 129–44), and
Anders-Christian Jacobsen,“Conversion to Christian Philosophy—the Case of
Origen’s School in Caesarea” (pp. 145–57).
The papers presented at a seminar on “L’acqua e il corpo: Bagni e terme
nel mondo patristico,” which was held in Florence on May 30–31, 2011, have
been published in Vivens Homo for January–June 2012 (vol. 23, no. 1), as follows: Gianni Cioli, Elena Giannarelli, and Carlo Nardi,“Una pubblicazione, un
convegno, una tematica” (pp. 115–23); Gabriella Capecchi, “Florentia e le
acque. Fonti, acquedotto e terme dell’antica città” (pp. 125–46); Elena
Giannarelli, “I luoghi dell’acqua viva. Consegne patristiche” (pp. 147–64);
Nadia Toschi,“Ai bagni di Alessandria. La proposta di Clemente” (pp. 165–74);
Guidalberto Bormolini, “Un ‘santo calore’ nei bagni freddi della tradizione
monastica” (pp. 175–94); and Carlo Nardi, “L’ambiguo bagno. Agostino delle
Confessioni e Agostino di Moravia” (pp. 195–228).
Peter Hünermann and Giuseppe Ruggieri have edited a special issue of
Cristianesimo nella storia (vol. 32 [2011], no. 3) dedicated to “I sinodi: organi
di governo e/o luogo di formazione del consenso nella Chiesa?” Following
their introduction (pp. 821–26) are the following articles: Alberto Melloni,
“Osservazioni a margine del rapporto consenso/concilio” (pp. 827–42); Peter
Hünermann,“Synodalität der Kirche—Grammatik des Glaubens: Reflexionen
zur Frage Charismen und gläubige Identität” (pp. 843–74); Davide Dainese,
“⌺␷␯␧⬘␳␹␱␮␣␫—␴␷␥␬␳␱⬘␶␩␴␫␵—␴␷⬘␯␱␦␱␵”: Tre diversi usi della denominazione” (pp. 875–943); Frederick Lauritzen, “La formazione del consenso
nella chiesa bizantina (843–1453)” (pp. 945–62); Alberto Cadili,
“Composizione, ruoli e formazione del consenso nei concili della chiesa latina

196

NOTES AND COMMENTS

medievale (secoli XI–XIII)” (pp. 963–1004); Giuseppe Ruggieri,“I diritti della
sposa. Note sulla dottrina conciliare di Jean Gerson” (pp. 1007–36); Hans-Peter
Grosshans,“Die Synoden in den lutherischen Kirchen” (pp. 1037–53); Patrizio
Foresta, “Sinodi e consenso nelle chiese reformate”(pp. 1055–83); Paul Avis,
“Conciliarity in the Anglican Communion: History,Theology and Polemic” (pp.
1085–1104); Maria Teresa Fattori,“«In Synodo, extra Synodum»: limiti del consenso in età tridentina” (pp. 1105–35); and Arnaud Join-Lambert,“Les processus synodaux depuis le concile Vatican II: Une double experience de l’Église
et de l’Esprit Saint” (pp. 1137–78).
“La Chiesa e il denaro” is the theme of the second issue of Cristianesimo
nella storia for 2012 (vol. 33). The contributors and their contributions are
Peter Brown, “«Treasure in heaven». The implications of an image” (pp.
377–96); Ramon Teja,“La estrategia de la corrupción: «el oro de la iniquidad»
de Cirilo de Alejandría en el concilio de Éfeso (431)” (pp. 397–423);Vincenzo
Aiello,“Edilizia religiosa e finanziamento imperiale al tempo dei Costantinidi”
(pp. 425–48); Rita Lizzi Testa, “La vendita delle cariche ecclesiastiche: interdizione canoniche e provvedimenti legislative dal IV al VI secolo” (pp.
449–74); Lucia Travaini, “Il lato buono delle monete: devozione, miracoli e
reliquie monetali” (pp. 475–92); Andrea Tilatti, “Il denaro e i preti. Qualche
reflessione per i secoli bassomedioevali” (pp. 493–517); Roberto Lambertini,
“Povertà volontaria ed «economia mendicante» nel basso Medioevo.
Osservazioni sui risultati di recenti indagini” (pp. 519–40); Klaus Ganzer,“Die
Zahlungen für päpstliche Benefizien-Verleihungen im späteren Mittelalter”
(pp. 541–55); Vincenzo Lavenia, “Avidi inquisitori? Tribunali della fede e
denaro tra Medioevo ed età moderna” (pp. 557–94); Karl Hausberger,“Die aus
der Säkularisation von 1803 resultierenden Staatsleistungen an die katholische Kirche in Deutschland unter besonderer Berücksichtigung Bayerns” (pp.
595–618); Carlo Maria Fiorentino, “La soppressione delle corporazioni religiose a Roma (1873) e i suoi risvolti sociali ed economici” (pp. 619–39);
Maurizio Pregrari,“La Banca romana: protagonisti e retroscena” (pp. 641–74);
Jean-Pierre Moisset, “Aspects des finances diocésaines en France au XXe
siècle” (pp. 675–714); and Philippe Denis, “Economic activity and money
exchanges in the African Independent Churches of South Africa” (pp. 715–32).
Glastonbury is the subject of the articles appearing in the January 2012
issue of The Downside Review (vol. 130, no. 458). After an introduction (pp.
1–2) by Dom Aidan Bellenger, O.S.B., four articles appear: Timothy HopkinsBall,“The Cultus of Our Lady at Glastonbury Abbey: 1184–1539” (pp. 3–52);
Michael J. Protheroe,“Towards a Catholic Historiography of Post-Dissolution
Glastonbury” (pp. 53–78); Giles Mercer, “The 1895 Glastonbury Pilgrimage”
(pp. 79–107); and Gilliam Hogarth, “Bishop Lee and the Glastonbury
Pilgrimage” (pp. 108–15).
“Les abbayes martiniennes” is the theme of the articles published in
Annales de Bretagne et des Pays de l’Ouest (vol. 119, no. 3, 2012). Following

NOTES AND COMMENTS

197

an introduction (pp. 7–12) by editors Bruno Judic and Christine Bousquet, the
articles are: Lucien-Jean Bord, O.S.B.,“Aux origines du monachisme en Gaule:
Les communautés martiniennes du IV siècle” (pp. 13–25); Sylvie Labarre,“Aux
sources du monachisme martinien, les Vies de Martin en prose et en vers”
(pp. 27–40); Jean-Michel Picard, “Les réseaux martiniens en Irlande
medievale” (pp. 41–53 and two color plates); Juliet Mullins,“La place de saint
Martin dans le monachisme anglo-saxon” (pp. 55–70); Klaus Krönert, “Saint
Martin, l’abbatiola de Trèves” (pp. 71–87); Bruno Judic, “Le patronage martinien au Xe siècle” (pp. 89–105); Etelvina Fernández González,“Images polyvalentes de saint Martin de Tours dans le context médiéval” (pp. 107–29); Jean
François Goudesenne,“«Pannonia letetur, Italia exultet et Gallie trina divisio, Francorum atque Germaniae, omnes partier gaudeant…» Les répertoires liturgiques latins pour saint Martin (VIe–Xe siècle)” (pp. 131–50 and six
color plates); Daniel Pichot, “Les prieurés Bretons de Marmoutier (XIe–XIIe
siècle)” (pp. 153–74); and Élisabeth Lorans, “Aux origines du monastère de
Marmoutier: le témoignage de l’archéologie” (pp. 177–202).
Il Dizionario storico dell’Inquisizione, edited by Adriano Prosperi with
the collaboration of Vincenzo Lavenia and John Tedeschi and published in
November 2010, is the subject of a series of brief articles under the heading
“Usare un Dizionario” in series 5, no. 3/2 (2011) of the Annali della Scuola
Normale Superiore di Pisa, Classe di Lettere e Filosofia, to wit: Stefania
Pastore, “Introduzione” (pp. 295–98); Guido Calabresi, “L’Inquisizione e il
diritto Americano” (pp. 299–307); Marco Santagata, “Una lettura del
Dizionario” (pp. 309–15); Pier Cesare Bori,“Immagine di Dio e Inquisizione”
(pp. 317–26); Pietro Costa, “Il Dizionario come ‘rete’: alcuni percorsi di lettura” (pp. 327–38); Michele Battini, “Leggere e pensare questo Dizionario”
(pp. 339–46); Andrea Del Col, “Il futuro del Dizionario storico
dell’Inquisizione” (pp. 347–61); Jean-Pierre Dedieu, “How to make it more
efficient. A proposal to computerize the Dizionario” (pp. 363–75); and John
Tedeschi, “Addio al Dizionario: un saluto conclusivo” (pp. 377–82).
“The Medieval Chantry in England” is the theme of the Journal of the
British Archaeological Association (vol. 164, 2011) edited by Julian M.
Luxford and John McNeill.The articles are: John McNeill,“A Prehistory of the
Chantry” (pp. 1–38); Julian M. Luxford,“The Origins and Development of the
English ‘Stone-Cage’ Chantry Chapel” (pp. 39–73); Antje Fehrmann, “Politics
and Posterity: English Royal Chantry Provision 1232–1509” (pp. 74–99); Clive
Burgess, “Chantries in the Parish, or ‘Through the Looking-glass’” (pp.
100–29); Roger Bowers,“Liturgy and Music in the Role of the Chantry Priest”
(pp. 130–56); Kate Heard, “‘Such stuff as dreams are made on’: Textiles and
the Medieval Chantry” (pp. 157–68); Anna Eavis, “The Commemorative
Foundations of William of Wykeham” (pp. 169–95); Cathy Oakes,“In Pursuit
of Heaven: The Two Chantry Chapels of Bishop Edmund Audley at Hereford
and Salisbury Cathedrals” (pp. 196–220); Charles Tracy and Hugh Harrison,
“Thomas Spring’s Chantry and Parclose at Laverham, Suffolk” (pp. 221–59);

198

NOTES AND COMMENTS

John Goodall, “The Jesus Chapel or Islip’s Chantry at Westminster Abbey”
(pp. 260–76); and Phillip Lindley, “‘Pickpurse’ Purgatory, the Dissolution of
the Chantries and the Suppression of Intercession for the Dead” (pp.
277–304).
Completing the observance of the “Seventh Centenary of the Founding of
the Order of Poor Clares,” the Archivum Franciscanum Historicum (vol. 105,
2012) is devoted to “The Poor Clares during the Modern Period, 16th–19th
Century.” Under “Discussiones et Documenta” are Fabien Guilloux, O.F.M.,
“Musique et liturgie aux Cordelières de Saint-Marcel. À propos de quatre processionnaux manuscrits (15e–17e siècles)” (pp. 9–50); Cayetano Sánchez
Fuertes, O.F.M., “Los monasterios de Santa Clara de Manila y Macao. Nuevos
documentos para su historia” (pp. 51–139); Elsa Penalva, “Les Clarisses à
Macau au 17e siècle: foi, pouvoir et liberté” (pp. 141–64); Martin Elbel and
Jarmila Kaspárková,“Continuity and Reform:The Znojmo Poor Clares and the
Bohemian Franciscan Province in the Early Modern Period” (pp. 165–95);
Rosalva Loreto Lopez, “Dichosa desdicha. El epistolario espiritual de Isabel
Rosa de Jésus, monja clarisa novohispana” (pp. 197–220); Elke Tkocz,
“Übergänge gestalten: Die Kandidaturphase im Klarissenkloster Bamberg
während der Frühen Neuzeit” (pp. 221–75); Bernadette Cunningham, “An
Account of the Poor Clare Order in Eighteenth-Century Dublin” (pp.
277–310); Giovanna Chiara Cremaschi, O.S.C., “Una donna del Settecento
narra la sua storia spirituale: Teresa Eletta Rivetti (1723–1790)” (pp. 311–402);
Pierre Moracchini,“«Nationales» contre «aristocrates»: une scission au sein du
monastère des clarisses de l’Ave Maria (Paris) pendant la Révolution
française” (pp. 403–53); Asunción Lavrin, “La religiosa y su confesor: epistolario de una clarisa Mexicana, 1801–1802” (pp. 455–78); Rafael Sanz, O.F.M.,
“Las clarisas de San Antonio de Segovia en la época de las guerras con los
franceses en 1808” (pp. 479–90); María José Vilar,“Los monasterios españoles
de clarisas entre la exclaustración de 1835–1836 y el concordato de España
con la Santa Sede de 1851. El caso de Santa Clara la Real de Murcia” (pp.
491–511);Alicia Fraschina,“Las capuchinas de Buenos Aires. De la monarquía
a la república (1749–1865)” (pp. 513–56); and Mauro Papalini,“Le regole delle
suore questuanti del monasterio delle Cappuccine di S. Chiara in S. Fiora” (pp.
557–88). There are summaries of the articles, all in English except two in
Italian, on pages 589–94.
The Way, a Review of Christian Spirituality Published by the British
Jesuits, focuses on the life and work of Mary Ward in its issue for July 2012
(vol. 51, no. 3). Gemma Simmonds has written the foreword,“Playing within
the Rules” (pp. 9–14). The other contributors are Mary Wright,“Mary Ward’s
Dilemma: The Choice of a Rule” (pp. 15–28); Brian O’Leary, “‘Hither I must
Come to Draw’: Mary Ward and the Ignatian Constitutions” (pp. 29–41); Gill K.
Goulding,“‘Take the Same’—But Differently: Mary Ward’s Appropriation of the
Ignatian Charism” (pp. 43–58); and Philip Endean, “Mary Ward and Jesuit
Myths” (pp. 59–77).

NOTES AND COMMENTS

199

Volume 78 (2012) of Historical Studies, the journal published by the
Canadian Catholic Historical Association, contains the following articles:
Catherine Foisy, “Preparing the Québec Church for Vatican II: Missionary
Lessons from Asia, Africa, and Latin America, 1945–1962” (pp. 7–26); Gordon
L. Heath,“The Protestant Denominational Press and the Conscription Crisis,
1917–1918” (pp. 27–46); and Gabriela Pawlus Kasprzak,“How the Poles Got
Organized:The Emergence of Organizational Life amongst Polish Canadians in
the 1920s and 1930s” (pp. 47–72). There also are two “Historical Notes”:
Ollivier Hubert, “A Nineteenth Century Montreal Collège Classique:
Antiquarian Survival or Education for the Future?” (pp. 73–80); and JeanPhilippe Warren, “Some Thoughts on Catholicism and the Secularization
Question in Quebec: Worldly and Otherworldly Rewards (1960–1970)” (pp.
81–91).The same volume comprises the Études d’histoire religieuse, Revue
publiée par la Société canadienne d’histoire de l’Église catholique. Five articles are included: François Dufaux, “Reconnaître la spiritualité des lieux: la
concrétisation des valeurs immatérielles dans l’acte de batir le patrimoine
religieux du Québec” (pp. 5–24); Édith Prégent,“Du culte à l’espace muséal,
quel patrimoine? Une étude de cas: la statuaire religieuse en plâtre du
Québec” (pp. 25–39); Marie-Eve Bernier-Cormier,“La Fête-Dieu dans trois quotidiens québécois (1910–1965)” (pp. 41–58); Isabelle Perreault and MarieClaude Thifault,“Les Sœurs de la Providence et les psychiatres modernistes:
enjeux professionals en santé mentale au Québec, 1910–1965” (pp. 59–79);
and Jean-Philippe Croteau,“Les écoles privées juives à Montréal (1874–1939):
des instances de reproduction identitaire et de production sociale?” (pp.
81–101).
The spring 2012 issue of U.S. Catholic Historian (vol. 30, no. 2) is the first
of two issues commemorating the fiftieth anniversary of the opening of the
Second Vatican Council.The issue consists of four articles: Joseph P. Chinnici,
O.F.M., “The Cold War, the Council, and American Catholicism in a Global
World” (pp. 1–24); Steven M. Avella,“‘I don’t think any council father could go
back home the same’: Albert G. Meyer and Preparing for Vatican II: A Case
Study of Episcopal Transformation” (pp. 25–37); Thomas J. Shelley,
“Sacrosanctum Concilium: Archbishop Paul J. Hallinan and the Constitution
on the Sacred Liturgy” (pp. 39–54); and Patrick J. Hayes,“‘Bless me, Father, for
I have Rynned’: The Vatican II Journalism of Francis X. Murphy, C.Ss.R.”
Obituaries
Emmet Larkin (1927–2012)
Emmet Larkin was one of the major modern historians of Ireland and supporter of Irish studies in the United States. Born in New York on May 19, 1927,
he served in the U.S. army at the end of World War II. His family was from
County Galway in Ireland, and his father had been involved in the Irish war
of independence of the early 1920s. He received his BA in history in 1950

200

NOTES AND COMMENTS

from New York University and his PhD in history from Columbia University
in 1957. His first academic interest resulted in his book, James Larkin, Irish
Labour Leader, 1876–1947 (Cambridge, MA, 1965). He taught at Brooklyn
College and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology before moving to the
University of Chicago in 1966 where he served as professor of British and
Irish history until his retirement in 2006.
As a scholar Dr. Larkin’s great contribution was in investigating the role of
the Catholic Church in nineteenth-century Ireland. His ground-breaking article, “The Devotional Revolution in Ireland, 1850–75,”1 argued that the Irish
people as a people only became practicing Catholics in the full sense outlined
by the Council of Trent after the famine of the 1840s.This was the time when
Sunday Mass attendance rates and reception of the sacraments soared to
levels maintained until the late-twentieth century. It was also the time of the
institutional consolidation of Catholicism under Cardinal Paul Cullen with the
building of new churches and the founding of religious, educational, and medical institutions.
In 1972 this seemed like a shockingly radical thesis when set against the
myth of the unvarying constancy of Irish Catholics to their faith. However,
backed by Dr. Larkin’s gargantuan archival work in Ireland, in Britain, and on
the continent over the years, the notion of the devotional revolution took
hold as a central way of interpreting the religious, social, and political development of nineteenth-century Ireland. According to Lawrence J. McCaffrey,
his friend and fellow Irish American historian, Dr. Larkin believed that the
Catholic Church “provided an impoverished and oppressed people with consolation, hope, discipline, and cultural and national identity.”
With the establishment of such an important notion as the devotional revolution, it was natural that younger scholars would seek to test its coherence
and veracity. Over the years several arguments were made for locating the
beginnings of the devotional revolution in the 1830s or even the 1790s.There
had even been a devotional revolution of sorts in the early-seventeenth century. Ever the scholar of integrity, Dr. Larkin considered all these contributions
and even admitted that perhaps his devotional revolution was a revolution
with a small “r” rather than a capital one. However, his work for his last published book, The Pastoral Role of the Roman Catholic Church in Pre-Famine
Ireland, 1750–1850 (Dublin and Washington, DC, 2006), convinced him that
his original thesis had been correct and that, with fewer clergy and a higher
population, the devotional revolution could not have begun before the
famine.At the time of his death, Dr. Larkin’s book manuscript in progress was
The Devotional Revolution in Ireland 1850–1880. In his early writing Dr.

1

Emmet Larkin, “The Devotional Revolution in Ireland, 1850–75,” American
Historical Review, 77 (1972), 625–52.

NOTES AND COMMENTS

201

Larkin saw the turn to Tridentine religion in functionalist terms—for example,
as a compensation for the loss of the Irish language as a marker of Irish identity. In later years, however, he had become more sympathetic to understanding the devotional revolution in terms of the self-declared motives of those
involved to address a perceived “spiritual destitution” in the Irish population.
It comes as a surprise to learn that most of Dr. Larkin’s work was not
directly about the devotional revolution at all. Between 1975 and 1996 he
published seven volumes, totaling more than 3000 pages, which charted the
interaction of the Catholic Church, the British State and Irish nationalism
between 1850, and the fall of the nationalist leader Charles Stewart Parnell in
1891. With titles referring to “the emergence of the modern Irish political
system” and “the creation of the modern Irish state,” this was not religious but
constitutional history. Dr. Larkin’s point was that the Church and nationalists
reached an accommodation that laid the foundation for the surprising political stability of modern Ireland, and that, for example, enabled Ireland to resist
fascism and remain, for all its relative youth as a state, one of the very oldest
continuous democracies in the world.
Dr. Larkin was an inspiring teacher and generous to younger scholars. He
was deeply committed to the scholarly and career success of his numerous
graduate students. He was a New-Deal Democrat, and this showed in the egalitarianism of the organization he founded with Dr. McCaffrey in 1960: the
American Conference (originally Committee) for Irish Studies. In the past
twenty years a new pattern has emerged that has seen the development of
several high-prestige and well-resourced Irish studies programs in the United
States.The vision of Drs. Larkin and McCaffrey for ACIS, which is still a flourishing enterprise, was different. They wanted to gather together scholars of
Ireland working in a whole variety of institutional settings.
Because Dr. Larkin could sometimes be mischievous, occasionally this
could create a wrong impression.When people would ask him if he had read
a particular new study, he would cheerily reply that he was too busy writing
history to read it.This led to some people believing he was out of touch with
recent scholarship, and reviewers began to take him to task over why he had
preferred an older book to a more recent one. Anyone who had ever visited
him in his study would know how untrue this impression was. His desk was
piled high with the latest volumes of Irish history—from the sixteenth century to the present—to be read.
Dr. Larkin was blessed with a happy family and was wonderfully cared for
by his wife, Dianne, in his final illness. He died on March 19, 2012. He is survived by his wife; his daughters, Heather and Siobhan; and his granddaughters,
Alexis and Erin.
DePaul University

JAMES H. MURPHY

202

NOTES AND COMMENTS

Timothy W. Tifft (1942–2012)
The Very Reverend Thomas W. Tifft, president-rector of Saint Mary
Seminary and Graduate School of Theology, in Wickliffe, Ohio, died on July 9,
2012, three days after suffering a massive stroke. He was born on October 5,
1942, and was educated at St. Joseph High School, Borromeo Seminary
College, and Saint Mary Seminary. He was ordained a priest for the Diocese of
Cleveland on May 31, 1969. After serving as a parochial vicar at the Church of
Saint Bridget of Kildare in Parma, he was appointed a residential member of
the faculty of Saint Mary Seminary in 1973 to teach church history. He then
undertook graduate studies in history at The Catholic University of America
and received his PhD in 1979 after submitting the 713-page dissertation
“Toward a More Humane Social Policy: The Work and Influence of Monsignor
John O’Grady.” Father Tifft was appointed registrar of Saint Mary Seminary in
1981, vice-rector and academic dean in 1985, and president-rector in 2001
after his predecessor’s troubled tenure. Facing financial stringency, lack of
prepared faculty, and low enrollment (which, however, rose in the last few
years), he succeeded in expanding programs for the community, especially for
lay ministers.With his placid, congenial, and cheerful personality, he was well
liked by both faculty members and students. A member of the American
Catholic Historical Association since 1977, he continued teaching church history in addition to his administrative work. Meanwhile, he collected source
materials for a history of the Diocese of Cleveland that he intended to write
during his retirement.
He also was interested in baseball and was a member of the Society for
American Baseball Research. He was a gifted homilist, weaving baseball stories in with church history and personal anecdotes.
Bishop Richard G. Lennon was the principal celebrant of the funeral Mass
in Saint Gabriel Church, Concord Township, on July 13, and his successor as
head of the seminary, Father Mark Latcovitch, presided over the interment in
All Souls Cemetery.
The Catholic University of America

ROBERT TRISCO

Jacques Marie Gres-Gayer (1944–2012)
Jacques M. Gres-Gayer, professor of church history at The Catholic
University of America, died on December 19, 2012, at Smilow Cancer
Hospital in New Haven, Connecticut. He was born Jacques Gres in Béziers,
France, on February 24, 1944. His father died before his birth and his mother
remarried; he subsequently added the surname of his stepfather, Pierre
Gayer, to his original surname.
Dr. Gres-Gayer began philosophical studies in 1961 at the Gregorian
University, Rome. After teaching at Collège Notre-Dame de Jamhour in Beirut,

NOTES AND COMMENTS

203

Lebanon, in 1963–65, he returned to the Gregorian to complete his theological studies. Ordained a priest for the Diocese of Montpellier in 1969, he
served as a chaplain at Saint-Thomas d’Aquin School and the Cathedral of
Notre Dame in Paris while pursuing graduate studies in history and theology.
In 1982 he received his doctorate in history from the Université de Paris IV
(Sorbonne) and his doctorate in theology from the Institut Catholique de
Paris; his doctoral dissertation,“The Project to Unite the Gallican and Anglican
Churches, 1717–1720,” was awarded the Prix de Pange as the best doctoral
dissertation of the year.
A 1982–83 postdoctoral fellow at Yale University, Dr. Gres-Gayer was the
principal translator of the French edition of the Anglican Book of Common
Prayer (Le Livre de la Prière Commune, New York, 1983). In 1985, after service as a professorial lecturer in the Departments of History and Theology at
Georgetown University, he was appointed to the faculty of The Catholic
University of America, where he advanced from assistant to associate to
Ordinary Professor. In addition to serving briefly as the chair of the
Department of Church History and then as director of the Church History
Program, he was an advisory editor of The Catholic Historical Review (1986–
2009).Among his courses at Catholic University was a popular undergraduate
elective on “Saints and Sinners:A History of the Popes”; however, most of his
teaching was at the graduate level with an “Introduction to Church History,”
a number of different courses on early and modern church history, and doctoral seminars on such topics as “Aspects of Jansenism.”
Dr. Gres-Gayer’s research specialty was the history of the Sorbonne during
the reign of Louis XIV. Although he published a number of articles in English
in refereed journals, encyclopedias, and books, the majority of his publications were in French; in addition to dozens of articles, he published six major
works: Paris-Cantorbéry, 1717–1720: le dossier d’un premier œcuménisme
(Paris, 1989); Théologie et pouvoir en Sorbonne: la Faculté de théologie de
Paris et la bulle Unigenitus, 1714–1721 (Paris, 1991); Le Jansénisme en
Sorbonne, 1643–1656 (Paris, 1996); En Sorbonne, autour des Provinciales:
édition critique des Mémoires de l’abbé de Beaubrun, 1655–1656 (Paris,
1997); Le Gallicanisme de Sorbonne: chroniques de la Faculté de théologie
de Paris, 1657–1688 (Paris, 2002); and D’un Jansénisme a l’autre:
chroniques de Sorbonne (1696–1713) (Paris, 2007). George Carey, archbishop of Canterbury, recognized Dr. Gres-Gayer’s interest in the relationship
between the Anglican Communion and the Roman Catholic Church with the
conferral of the Cross of St. Augustine in 1999.
A joint requiem for Dr. Gres-Gayer and his stepfather, who survived him by
only a few hours, was scheduled in Paris, to be followed by the private interment of their remains in the family chapel in Béziers.
The Catholic University of America

JOHN T. FORD, C.S.C.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE
________
General and Miscellaneous
“The Hermeneutic of Reform”: A Historical Analysis. John W. O’Malley, S.J.
Theological Studies, 73 (Sept., 2012), 517–46.
War without End: The Popes and the Jews between Polemic and History.
Robert A. Ventresca. Harvard Theological Review, 105 (Oct., 2012),
466–90.
Iconoclasm, as Discourse: From Antiquity to Byzantium. Jaś Elsner. Art
Bulletin, XCIV (Sept., 2012), 368–94.
Pius XI’s Promotion of the Italian Model of Catholic Action in the World-Wide
Church. John Pollard. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 63 (Oct., 2012),
758–84.
The Benedictine Intellectual Tradition: An Overview. Joel Rippinger, O.S.B.
American Benedictine Review, 63 (Sept., 2012), 244–56.
Los Cistercienses, Portadores de Innovaciones en Agricultura, Medicina y
Tecnología. Hermann Josef Roth. AnáMnesis, XXII (July–Dec., 2012),
55–76.
100 años de estudios sobre la Regla de Santa Clara de Asís. Logros y perspectivas. Fernando Uribe. Naturaleza y Gracia, LIX (May–Aug., 2012),
197–257.
Il Droit de joyeux avènement. Alessandro Bucci. Zeitschrift der SavignyStiftung für Rechtsgeschichte, 129, Kanonistiche Abteilung 98 (2012),
207–45.
L’Inquisition d’Avignon du Moyen Âge à la fin du XVIIIe siècle. Marc Venard.
Revue d’histoire de l’Église de France, 98 (Jan.–June, 2012), 25–66.
La presenza francescana a Catania prima del terremoto del 1693: modalità di
insediamento e dinamiche di espansione. Antonio Mursia. Antonianum,
LXXXVII (July–Sept., 2012), 475–85.
The Revival of Music in the Post-Reformation Catholic Church in Scotland.
Shelagh Noden. Recusant History, 31 (Oct., 2012), 239–60.
A Maryland Jesuit in Eighteenth-Century Europe [John Baptist Mattingly]. Paul
H. Mattingly. Maryland Historical Magazine, 107 (Summer, 2012), 141–54.
The Stuart Relics in the Stonyhurst Collections. Jan Graffius. Recusant
History, 31 (Oct., 2012), 147–69.
204

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

205

L’archivio storico della Reale Arciconfraternita di Sant’Antonio di Padova in
San Lorenzo Maggiore. Felice Autieri, O.F.M. Conv. Miscellanea
Francescana, 112 (1–2, 2012), 228–51.
Le fonti sui Martiri Gesuiti nell’ARSI. Roberta Grossi. Archivum Historicum
Societatis Iesu, LXXXI (1, 2012), 233–47.
Ancient
A New Greek Fragment from Ariston of Pella’s Dialogue of Jason and
Papiscus. François Bovon and John M. Duffy. Harvard Theological
Review, 105 (Oct., 2012), 457–65.
La littérature de controverse entre christianisme et judaïsme (IIe–XVIe siècles). Description du corpus et réflexions méthodologiques. Philippe
Bobichon. Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique, 107 (Jan.–Mar., 2012), 5–48.
Material and Documentary Evidence for the Practice of Early Christian
Baptism. Robin M. Jansen. Journal of Early Christian Studies, 20 (Fall,
2012), 371–405.
The Battle of the Milvian Bridge. Richard Cavendish. History Today, 62 (Oct.,
2012), 8.
Patrons of Rome:The cult of Sts. Peter and Paul at court and in the city in the
fourth and fifth centuries.Alan Thacker. Early Medieval Europe, 20 (Nov.,
2012), 380–406.
Von der Kraft der Argumente. Die Strategien des römischen Stadtpräfekten
Symmachus und des Bischofs Ambrosius von Mailand beim Streit um den
Victoriaaltar im Jahre 384. Daniel Carlo Pangerl. Römische Quartalschrift,
107 (1–2, 2012), 1–20.
Shaping the sacred: light and the experience of worship in middle Byzantine
churches. Claire Nesbitt. Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies, 36 (2,
2012), 139–60.
Discourse ‘Sermons’ in the Libri historiarum decem of Gregory of Tours.
Alberto Ferreiro. Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique, 107 (Jan.–Mar., 2012),
49–76.
Creating new Constantines at the end of the sixth century. Santiago
Castellanos. Historical Research, 85 (Nov., 2012), 556–75.
Medieval
Bishops, kings, and queens. Katherine Harvey. History Today, 62 (Oct., 2012),
3–4.
Das Prooemium des 4. Toletanum von 633. Gerd Kampers. Zeitschrift der
Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte, 129, Kanonistiche Abteilung 98
(2012), 1–18.

206

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Text and identities in the Synodus II S. Patricii. Sven Meeder. Zeitschrift der
Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte, 129, Kanonistische Abteilung 98
(2012), 19–45.
Changing Places: Chrodobert, Boba, and the Wife of Grimoald. Yitzhak Hen.
Revue Belge de Philologie et d’Histoire, 90 (2, 2012), 225–42.
Bede, Willibrord and the Letters of Pope Honorius I on the Genesis of the
Archbishopric of York. Joanna Story. English Historical Review, CXXVII
(Aug., 2012), 783–818.
The Rule Collector of Aniane. Colleen Maura McGrane, O.S.B. American
Benedictine Review, 63 (Sept., 2012), 267–83.
Kaisertum, Papsttum, und italisches Königtum. Zur Entstehung eines schwierigen Dreiecksverhältnisses. Simon Groth. Archiv für Kulturgeschichte, 94
(1, 2012), 21–58.
The scripts of the Prague Sacramentary, Prague Archivo O 83. Rosamond
McKitterick. Early Medieval Europe, 20 (Nov., 2012), 407–27.
Zu den Quellen der Institutio Sanctimonialium Ludwigs des Frommen (a.
816). Die Homiliensammlung des Codex Paris lat. 13440. Gerhard Schmitz.
Deutsches Archiv für Erforschung des Mittelalters, 68 (1, 2012), 23–51.
Die Enzyklika des Photios an die Patriarchen des Ostens. Eine Vorlage für antilateinische Polemik. Theresia Hainthaler. Ostkirchliche Studien, 60 (2,
2011), 266–79.
Le chevalier Herluin et la fondation de l’abbaye du Bec: un dossier complexe
entre tentation érémititque et normalisation cénobitique. Jean-Hervé
Foulon. Revue historique, CCCXIV, No. 663 (July, 2012), 563–605.
The Turin Collection Revisited. Kriston R. Rennie. Zeitschrift der SavignyStiftung für Rechtsgeschichte, 129, Kanonistiche Abteilung 98 (2012),
46–63.
The Fruits of Exile.Anselm of Canterbury and Lyons. Kriston R. Rennie. Revue
d’Histoire Ecclésiastique, 107 (Jan.–Mar., 2012), 78–96.
Penitential Discourse and Conflict Management in the Late-Eleventh and
Early-Twelfth-Century Southern Low Countries. Steven Vanderputten and
Arnoud-Jan Bijsterveld. Revue Belge de Philologie et d’Histoire, 90 (2,
2012), 471–91.
Zur Frühgeschichte der Kartäuser. Beate Schilling. Deutsches Archiv für
Erforschung des Mittelalters, 68 (1, 2012), 53–89.
Recycling the Franks in Twelfth-Century England: Regino of Prüm, the Monks
of Durham, and the Alexandrine Schism. Simon MacLean. Speculum, 87
(July, 2012), 649–81.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

207

Die Gründung und Frühzeit der Prämonstratensersabtei Wadgassen im
Spiegel der Kirchen- und Territorialpolitik Erzbischof Alberos von Trier.
Jörg R. Müller. Analecta Praemonstratensia, LXXXVII (2011), 10–43.
“Patronage”,“Prestige” und “Bildung” im mittelalterlichen Klosterleben. Horst
Schneider. Ostkirchliche Studien, 60 (2, 2011), 280–91.
Una Caro and the Consummation of Marriage in the Decretum Gratiani. John
Alesandro. Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte, 129,
Kanonistiche Abteilung 98 (2012), 64–148.
The relics of the Lateran according to Leidarvísir, the Descriptio
Lateranensis ecclesiae, and the inscription outside the Sancta
Sanctorum.Tommaso Marani. Medium Ævum, LXXXI (2, 2012), 271–88.
“La più sottile e interiore filosofia”. La mistica della Passione e la mistica
nuziale nei monasteri cistercensi del XII secolo. Antonio Montanari. Vita
Monastica, LXVI (Apr.–Sept., 2012), 51–71.
Cult and culture in a medieval community: Ayton and Coldingham,
1188–1376. J. Donnelly. Innes Review, 63 (Nov., 2012), 109–60.
Innocenzo III e il dono dei quattro anelli. Per un contributo alla storia simbolica medievale. Francesca Tasca. Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique, 107
(Jan.–Mar., 2012), 98–128.
Two scribes and one scriptorium active in Norway c. 1200. Michael Gullick
and Åslaug Ommundsen. Scriptorium, 66 (1, 2012), 25–54.
The Charlemagne window at Chartres: visual chronicle of a royal life. Mary
Jane Schenk. Word and Image, 28 (Apr.–June, 2012), 135–60.
Die Weltchronik des Propstes Burchard von Ursberg. Staufische Reichspolitik
in universalhistorischer Perspektive. Michael Oberweis. Analecta
Praemonstratensia, LXXXVII (2011), 44–69.
¿Tres redacciones del memoriale de Tomás de Celano? Una propuesta para
analizar. Fernando Uribe, O.F.M. Antonianum, LXXXVII (Apr.–June, 2012),
329–45.
Testamento de Santa Clara. Francisco Martínez Fresneda. Verdad y Vida, LXX
(Jan.–June, 2012), 73–114.
Stefano di Spagna, frate Predicatore e arcivescovo di Torres (1200 ca.–1260
ca.). Luca Demontis. Archivo Storico Italiano, CLXX (II, 2012), 235–62.
Sacrament and Sacrifice: Conflating Corpus Christi and Martyrdom in
Medieval Liège. Catherine Saucier. Speculum, 87 (July, 2012), 682–723.
Les ermites de Saint-Augustin en Hongrie Médiévale: État des connaissances.
Marie-Madeleine de Cevins. Augustiniana, 62 (1–2, 2012), 77–117.

208

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Die Disputation des Heinrich von Gent mit Prälaten und Professoren in Paris im
Früh- und Spätjahr 1282 über das Pastoralprivileg der Mendikantenbrüder.
Ludwig Hödl. Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte, 129,
Kanonistiche Abteilung 98 (2012), 174–206.
Une pensée visuelle originale: le décor peint du chevet de l’église de SaintMacaire (fin du XIIIe siècle). Cécile Voyer. Cahiers de Civilisation
Médiévale, 55 (July–Sept., 2012), 263–78.
Looking with words and images: staging monastic contemplation in a late
Byzantine church. Rossitza Schroeder. Word and Image, 28 (Apr.–June,
2012), 117–34.
Dom Dinis, Dom Egas de Viseu e a Suma sobre a liberdade eclesiástica. José
Antônio de C. R. de Sousa. Itinerarium, LVIII (May–Aug., 2012), 373–425.
Monastic Values and Echoes of the Rule of Benedict in the Statutes of 1365 for
the Cluniac College at Paris.Thomas Sullivan, O.S.B. American Benedictine
Review, 63 (Sept., 2012), 331–53.
Le respect des jours chômés au XVe siècle: l’exemple de la Champagne.
François Léauté. Revue d’histoire de l’Église de France, 98 (Jan.–June,
2012), 5–23.
Una fuga programmata. Eugenio IV e Firenze (1433–1434). Eleonora Plebani.
Archivo Storico Italiano, CLXX (II, 2012), 285–310.
The Autograph Hand of John Lydgate and a Manuscript from Bury St.
Edmunds Abbey. Mark Faulkner and W. H. E. Sweet. Speculum, 87 (July,
2012), 766–92.
El movimiento religioso femenino en medios señoriales altonobiliarios: La
fundación de Santa Clara de Belalcázar (siglo XV). María del Mar Graña Cid.
Verdad y Vida, LXX (Jan.–June, 2012), 115–46.
“Quis esset episcopus Tornacensis ignorabatur”. Le schisme tournaisien
(1483–1506). Hendrik Callewier. Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique, 107
(Jan.–Mar., 2012), 131–67.
Francesco Rosselli’s Lost View of Rome:An Urban Icon and its Progeny. Jessica
Maier. Art Bulletin, XCIV (Sept., 2012), 395–411.
Le Martyre de saint Lambert du “diptyque Palude” et les cérémonies de 1489
à la cathédrale de Liège. Paul Bruyère. Le Moyen Age, CXVIII (2, 2012),
329–68.
Polyphonic Laude and Hymns in a Franciscan Codex from the End of the
Fifteenth Century. Fabio Carboni and Agostino Zino. Early Music History,
31 (Jan., 2012), 87–151.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

209

Sixteenth Century
Die autobiographischen Aufzeichnungen des Nürnberger Ausgustinereremiten
Nikolaus Besler. Hans Schneider. Augustiniana, 62 (1–2, 2012), 119–52.
Los delictos calivicados y muy henormes de Íñigo de Loyola. Notas al llamado Proceso de Azpeitia de 1515, estudio documental. Francisco de
Borja Medina Rojas S.J. Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu, LXXXI (1,
2012), 3–71.
A Perspective on the Church-State Confrontation of 1515: The Passage of 4
Henry VIII, c.2. P. R. Cavill. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 63 (Oct.,
2012), 655–70.
Thomas More’s Cosmopolitan Civil Sciences: The New World and Utopia
Reconsidered. Peter Hallberg. History of Political Thought, 33 (4, 2012),
578–606.
History, Memory, and the English Reformation.Alexandra Walsham. Historical
Journal, 55 (Dec., 2012), 899–938.
The Function and Historical Development of Reformation Confessions. Irene
Dingel. Lutheran Quarterly, XXVI (Autumn, 2012), 295–321.
Entre éloge et consolation: Le triomphe de la constance chrestienne à
Monseigneur le prince de Condé (1565). François Rouget. Bulletin de la
Société de l’Histoire du Protestantisme Français, 158 (July–Sept., 2012),
509–29.
Puritans and the ‘Monarchical Republic’: Conformity and Conflict in the
Elizabethan Church. Rosamund Oates. English Historical Review, CXXVII
(Aug., 2012), 819–43.
The Counter-Reformation of the Refugee: Exile and the Shaping of Catholic
Militancy in the Dutch Revolt. Geert H. Janssen. Journal of Ecclesiastical
History, 63 (Oct., 2012), 671–92.
Des projets pédagogiques trans-confessionels au temps des guerres de religion: les gentilshommes huguenots et les premiers desseins d’académies
nobiliaires. Andrea Bruschi. Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du
Protestantisme Français, 158 (July–Sept., 2012), 531–41.
Il ms. 737 della Biblioteca Antoniana unico superstite del Sant’Ufficio di
Padova.Antonio Poppi. Il Santo, LII (1–2, 2012), 153–76.
Francisco Suárez and Justice. A common good Perspective. Paul Pace, S.I.
Gregorianum, 93 (3, 2012), 497–525.
The Conclave from the ‘Outside In’: Rumor, Speculation, and Disorder in
Rome during Early Modern Papal Elections. John M. Hunt. Journal of Early
Modern History, 16 (4/5, 2012), 355–82.

210

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries
Scholars and Spies–Three Humanists in the Service of James VI/I. Tom
McInally. Recusant History, 31 (Oct., 2012), 135–46.
Los Infantes de Coro y El Colegio de S. Leandro 1600–1760 (II). Consuelo
Prats Redondo. Carthaginensia, XXVIII (Jan.–June, 2012), 105–50.
Catholic Written and Oral Cultures in Seventeenth-Century Vietnam. Tara
Alberts. Journal of Early Modern History, 16 (4/5, 2012), 383–402.
The Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius of Loyola in the China mission of the 17th
and 18th centuries. Nicolas Standaert. Archivum Historicum Societatis
Iesu, LXXXI (1, 2012), 73–123.
The Oratory in the seventeenth-century Low Countries. Willem Frijhoff.
Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique, 107 (Jan.–Mar., 2012), 169–222.
Confessionalization and Clan Cohesion: Ireland’s Contribution to Scottish
Catholic Renewal in the Seventeenth Century. R. Scott Spurlock. Recusant
History, 31 (Oct., 2012), 171–94.
Recusants and the Rosary: A Seventeenth-Century Chapel in Aberdeen. Fern
Insh. Recusant History, 31 (Oct., 2012), 195–218.
Dai pelagiani ai recentiores: L’affaire du plagiaire (Garasse) nell’Augustinus
e nella corrispondenza di Cornelis Jansen. Chiara Catalano. Augustiniana,
62 (1–2, 2012), 153–88.
Religion et politique au XVIIe siècle.Anthime-Denis Cohon, évêque de Nîmes,
serviteur de Dieu, du roi, et de la patrie. Robert Sauzet. Revue d’histoire de
l’Église de France, 98 (Jan.– June, 2012), 67–81.
Prämonstratensische Reichspolitik am Ende der Gegenreformation. Die Äbte
Johann Christoph Härtlin von Weißenau und Georg Schönhainz von
Adelberg und die württembergische Klosterfrage. Andreas Neuburger.
Analecta Praemonstratensia, LXXXVII (2011), 70–97.
Die Oliva sacrarum Meditationum des Weißenauer Priors Gallus Klessel
(†1633). Ein Betrachtungsbuch aus der Ordensreform des 17. Jahrhunderts
und seine Nachwirkung. Ulrich G. Leinsle. Analecta Praemonstratensia,
LXXXVII (2011), 98–123.
Die Heiligsprechung des Metropoliten Simion S¸tefan von Siebenbürgen in
der Gegenwart der Rumänischen Orthodoxen Kirche. Ernst Christopher
Suttner. Ostkirchliche Studien, 60 (2, 2011), 255–65.
The Orthodox Church of Crete, 1645–1735: a case study of the relation
between sultanic power and patriarchal will. Elif Bayraktar Tellan.
Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies, 36 (2, 2012), 198–214.
The contacts of Martino Martini S.J. with the Amsterdam printer Joan Blaeu.
Paul Begheyn S.J. Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu, LXXXI (1, 2012),
219–30.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

211

Between King, Faith and Reason: Father Peter Talbot (SJ) and Catholic Royalist
Thought in Exile. M. R. F. Williams. English Historical Review, CXXVII
(Oct., 2012), 1063–99.
Il Cardinale Lorenzo Brancati da Lauria. Nel IVo centenario della nascita: una
figura significativa e un messaggio attuale. Domenico Paoletti, O.F.M. Conv.
Miscellanea Francescana, 112 (1–2, 2012), 209–20.
The Reception of a Science of Texts in England, 1658–1740. Gerard Reedy.
Harvard Theological Review, 105 (Oct., 2012), 402–22.
Counting Religion in England and Wales: The Long Eighteenth Century, c.
1680–c. 1840. Clive D. Field. Journal of Ecclesiastical History 63 (4, Oct.
2012), 693–720.
Churchyard Closures, Rural Cemeteries, and the Village Community in
Leicestershire and Rutland. K. D. M. Snell. Journal of Ecclesiastical History,
63 (Oct., 2012), 721–57.
Genève et le piétisme au tournant des XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles: le cas de Béat
de Muralt. Maria-Cristina Pitassi. Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du
Protestantisme Français, 158 (July–Sept., 2012), 563–97.
L’excommunication et l’exorcisme des animaux aux XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles.
Une négociation entre bêtes, fidèles et clergé. Éric Baratay. Revue
d’Histoire Ecclésiastique, 107 (Jan.–Mar., 2012), 223–53.
John Jortin, Ecclesiastical History and the Christian Republic of Letters. B. W.
Young. Historical Journal, 55 (Dec., 2012), 961–81.
Dom Frei José Maria da Fonseca de Évora (1690–1752). O Religioso–O
Diplomata–O Pastor. Manuel Taveira Da Silva. Itinerarium, LVIII
(May–Aug., 2012), 197–342.
Reflections on the pluralization of Enlightenment and the notion of theological Enlightenment as process. Jeffrey D. Burson. French History, 26 (Dec.,
2012), 524–37.
Temps de travail et fêtes religieuses au XVIIIe siècle. Jean-Yves Grenier. Revue
historique, CCCXIV, No. 663 (July, 2012), 609–41.
The Meanings of Conversion: Treaty Law, State Knowledge, and Religious
Identity among Russian Captives in the Eighteenth-Century Ottoman
Empire.Will Smiley. International History Review, 34 (3, 2012), 559–80.
Changing Perceptions of Women’s Religious Institutions in EighteenthCentury Bologna. Lise Lehtsalu. Historical Journal, 55 (Dec., 2012),
939–59.
John and Cosmo Alexander: Of Recusancy, Jacobites, and Aberdeen Junctures.
Mary Pryor. Recusant History, 31 (Oct., 2012), 219–38.
Iona in 1771: Gaelic tradition and visitors’ experience. Richard Sharpe. Innes
Review, 63 (Nov., 2012), 161–259.

212

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Cofradías y Mayordomías de Caravaca según el Expediente General de 1771.
Indalecio Pozo Martínez. Carthaginensia, XXVIII (Jan.–June, 2012),
151–74.
Ein “Lutheraner” auf dem Habsburgerthron. Die josephinischen Reformen und
die Klosteraufhebungen in der Habsburgermonarchie. Martin Scheutz.
Mitteilungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung, 120
(2, 2012), 321–38.
Tardes monásticas, un manual formativo agustiniano del siglo XVIII. Mariano
Boyano Revilla. Revista Agustiniana, LIII (Jan.–Apr., 2012), 45–76.
Le premier consistoire de l’Église réformée de Paris (1788–1803), etude sociologique. Francis Garrisson. Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du
Protestantisme Français, 158 (July–Sept., 2012), 563–97.
Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries
Dalla Dilette di Gesù de Niccolò Paccanari alle Sorelle della Sacra Famiglia
di Leopoldina Naudet (1799–1833). Eva Fontana Castelli. Archivum
Historicum Societatis Iesu, LXXXI (1, 2012), 159–90.
Zu den Ursprüngen des Begriffs ,Volkskirche‘ um 1800. Tobias Sarx. Archiv
für Kulturgeschichte, 94 (1, 2012), 113–45.
Religion du souverain, souverain de la religion: l’invention de saint Napoléon.
Vincent Petit. Revue historique, CCCXIV, No. 663 (July, 2012), 643–57.
San Francisco el Real, de Salamanca. El bicentenario de su destrucción
(1812–2012). Faustino García. Naturaleza y Gracia, LIX (May–Aug., 2012),
289–311.
Jews Commemorating Luther in the Nineteenth Century. Dorothea
Wendebourg. Lutheran Quarterly, XXVI (Autumn, 2012), 249–70.
Directoires et catéchismes missionnaires en Océanie au XIXe siècle: une pédagogie de l’évangélisation. Yannick Essertel. Revue d’Histoire
Ecclésiastique, 107 (Jan.–Mar., 2012), 269–309.
Über das Leben des Metropoliten Andrei Freiherr von S¸aguna anläßlich
seiner Heiligsprechung in der Rumänisch-Orthodoxen Kirche. Paul
Brusanowski. Ostkirchliche Studien, 60 (2, 2011), 235–54.
Bridgeheads of Empire? Liberated African Missionaries in West Africa.
Bronwen Everill. Journal for Imperial and Commonwealth History, 40
(5, 2012), 789–805.
‘A School of Iron, Vexation and Blood, but a School Nonetheless.’ Elisabetta
Gnecchi-Ruscone. Journal of Pacific History, 47 (Sept., 2012), 389–403.
The satyriasis diagnosis: anti-clerical doctors and celibate priests in nineteenth-century France. Tim Verhoeven. French History, 26 (Dec., 2012),
504–23.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

213

Comment Dieu est-il acteur de l’histoire? Le débat Broglie-Guéranger sur le
“naturalisme Historique.” Guillaume Cuchet. Revue des Sciences
Philosophiques et Théologiques, 96 (Jan.–Mar., 2012), 33–54.
Père Marie-Antoine de Lavaur Capucin. Jacqueline Baylé. Bulletin de
Littérature Ecclésiastique, CXIII (Apr.–June, 2012), 177–200.
John Carmont, the Mitchell Trust, and Scottish Catholicism, 1865–1885.
Darren Tierney. Recusant History, 31 (Oct., 2012), 261–80.
Un documento pendiente: la “cuestión social”, Pio IX, y el Concilio Vaticano I.
Fernando J. de Lasala, S.I. Gregorianum, 93 (3, 2012), 485–96.
Muslim or Christian? Family Quarrels and Religious Diagnosis in a Colonial
Court. Nandini Chatterjee. American Historical Review, 117 (Oct., 2012),
1101–22.
Les catholiques anglais face au nationalisme irlandais. Tensions et divisions
1881–1888. Jacqueline Clais. Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique, 107 (1,
Jan.–Mar., 2012), 255–67.
‘The business of life’: educating Catholic deaf children in late nineteenth-century England. Carmen W. Mangion. History of Education, 41 (Sept., 2012),
575–94.
Fr. Sydney Fenn Smith S.J. and his Response to a Rescued Nun Story. An
Episode in Nineteenth Century English Anti-Catholicism. Rene Kollar
O.S.B. Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu, LXXXI (1, 2012), 193–217.
Migration and the Female Orange Order: Irish Protestant Identity, Diaspora
and Empire in Scotland, 1909–40. D.A. J. MacPherson. Journal of Imperial
and Commonwealth History, 40 (4, 2012), 619–42.
Ernest-Charles Babut (1875–1916). Un spécialiste oublié du christianisme
ancien. Sylvain J. G. Sanchez. Etudes Théologiques et Religieuses, 87 (2,
2012), 219–30.
Lo scioglimento dei Circoli di Azione Cattolica nell’Italia centro-meridionale.
Una relazione di Carlo Constantini alla Segreteria di Stato Vaticana (Roma,
17 luglio 1931). Mario Casella. Rivista di Scienze Religiose, XXV (2, 2011),
455–98.
Antikommunismus als politischer Leitfaden des Vatikans? Affinitäten und
Konflikte zwischen Heiligem Stuhl und NS-Regime im Jahr 1933. Thies
Schulze. Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte, 60 (July, 2012), 353–79.
Le Cardinal Tisserant, réformateur du catholicisme oriental? Étienne
Fouilloux. Istina, LVII (Apr.–June, 2012), 115–25.
New perspectives on Pius XII and Vatican Financial Transactions during the
Second World War. Patricia M. McGoldrick. Historical Journal, 55 (Dec.,
2012), 1029–48.

214

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Crossing sisters: patterns of protest in the journal of the Catholic Union of
Slovak Women during the Second World War. Marina Zavacka. Social
History, 37 (Nov., 2012), 425–51.
Henri de Lubac (1896–1991) et Henri Bouillard (1908–1981), profils croisés.
Jean-Pierre Wagner. Revue des Sciences Religieuses, 86 (July, 2012),
285–305.
Treason or Charity? Christian Missions on Trial and the Decolonization of
Algeria. Darcie Fontaine. International Journal of Middle East Studies, 44
(Nov., 2012), 733–53.
Recalling the ‘Goulburn Strike’:An Interview with Brian Keating. John Luttrell.
Australasian Catholic Record, 89 (July, 2012), 349–59.
Il vescovo Pietro Parente (1891–1986). Padre conciliare e teologo del collegio
episcopale al Vaticano II. Marcello Semeraro. Rivista di Scienze Religiose,
XXV (2, 2011), 395–406.
Für eine arme Kirche! Der Katakombenpakt von 1965 als Beispiel der
Entweltlichung.Thomas Fornet-Ponse. Stimmen der Zeit, 230 (Oct., 2012),
651–61.
Naissance du Comité épiscopal pour les relations avec le judaïsme et amorce
d’une réflexion théologique post-conciliaire. Thérèse Hebelinck. Revue
d’histoire de l’Église de France, 98 (Jan.–June, 2012), 83–107.
American and Canadian
“But They Differ From Us in Sound”: Indian Psalmody and the Soundscape of
Colonialism, 1651–75. Glenda Goodman. William and Mary Quarterly, 69
(Oct., 2012), 793–822.
Validating the 1673 “Marquette Map.” David Buisseret and Carl Kupfer. Journal
of Illinois History, 14 (Winter, 2011), 261–76.
“Un Canadien Errant” in New Mexico: Louis-Marie Moreau dit Coulon’s
heresy and rebellion. Colin Coates and Sonya Lipsett-Rivera. New Mexico
Historical Review, 87 (Fall, 2012), 457–84.
German Jesuits in Maryland and Pennsylvania 1740–1833. Johanna Schmid.
Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu, LXXXI (1, 2012), 125–56.
Joyful Ringing, Solemn Tolling: Methods and Meanings of Early American
Tower Bells. Deborah Lubken. William and Mary Quarterly, 69 (Oct.,
2012), 823–42.
Bible, King and Common Law: Genealogical Literacies and Family History
Practices in British America. Karin Wulf. Early American Studies, 10 (Fall,
2012), 467–502.
Our Lady of El Pueblito: A Marian Devotion on the Northern Frontier. Cristina
Cruz González. Catholic Southwest, 23 (2012), 3–21.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

215

San Augustín Church and Laredo Under Six Dioceses. José Roberto Juárez.
Catholic Southwest, 23 (2012), 22–35.
The Reverend Friedrich Schmid: First German-Speaking Lutheran Pastor in
Michigan (1833–1883). Jack D. Ferguson. Concordia Historical Institute
Quarterly, 85 (Summer, 2012), 30–46.
Where There was Need: Evangelization and North American Benedictines.
Ephrem Hollermann, O.S.B. American Benedictine Review, 63 (Sept.,
2012), 303–20.
The Negotiation of Authority at a Frontier Marian Apparition Site:Adele Brise
and Our Lady of Good Help. Karen E. Park. American Catholic Studies, 123
(Fall, 2012), 1–26.
“One Language in Prayer”: Evangelicalism, Anti-Catholicism and Harriet
Beecher Stowe’s The Minister’s Wooing. Neil Meyer. New England
Quarterly, LXXXV (Sept., 2012), 468–90.
Andrew Baepler. Richard Baepler. Concordia Historical Institute Quarterly,
85 (Summer, 2012), 4–27.
“The Negro Problem”:Two Catholic Journalistic Debates over the Equality of
Blacks. Douglas J. Slawson. American Catholic Studies, 123 (Summer,
2012), 1–29.
A New Beginning in a New Land: Church of the Nativity of Mary, Plantersville,
Texas. Sr. Madeleine Grace, CVI. Catholic Southwest, 23 (2012), 69–79.
Researching a Chinle Church Bell: Problems of an Unrecoverable Past.
Charlotte J. Frisbie. New Mexico Historical Review, 87 (Summer, 2012),
299–328.
“Up Against a Stone Wall”: Women, Power, and the National Catholic
Community Houses. Jeanne Petit. American Catholic Studies, 123
(Summer, 2012), 31–57.
“Apostles of Fascism”, “Communist Clergy”, and the UAW: Political Ideology
and Working-Class Religion in Detroit, 1919–1945. Matthew Pehl. Journal
of American History, 99 (Sept., 2012), 440–65.
Confronting the Heresy of the “The Mythical Body of Christ”:The Life of Dr.
Arthur Falls. Lincoln R. Rice. American Catholic Studies, 123 (Summer,
2012), 59–77.
“An Honest Response to Serious Losses”: Recent Initiatives in American
Catholic Education.Timothy Walch. American Catholic Studies, 123 (Fall,
2012), 53–67.
Carter, Catholics, and the Politics of Family. J. Brooks Flippen. American
Catholic Studies, 123 (Fall, 2012), 27–51.
Thank You for Letting Me Play with You:The Life of Dr. Paul Manz. Mike Doyle.
Concordia Historical Institute Quarterly, 85 (Fall, 2012), 11–45.

216

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Latin American
Friar Simón del Hierro’s Diary of the Preliminary Colonization of Nuevo
Santander, 1749:An Annotated Translation. Debbie S. Cunningham. Catholic
Southwest, 23 (2012), 36–55.
O Laicato na Primeira Conferência Episcopal Latino-americana–Rio de Janeiro
(1955). Sávio Carlos Desan Scophino. Revista Eclesiástica Brasileira. 72
(July, 2012), 581–603.

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED
________
Codignola, Luca. Edited by Matteo Binasco. Little Do We Know: History and
Historians of the North Atlantic, 1492–2010. (Cagliari: Istituto di Storia
dell’Europa Mediterranea. 2012. Pp. 520.)
Covers: I Libri di Joseph Ratzinger: Fra Testi e Contesti. (Rome: Liberia
Editrice Vaticana. 2012. Pp. 296. €40,00.) Following Silvano Petrosino’s
introduction, “La Soglia della copertina” (pp. 9–16), are small-scale, fullcolor reproductions of the covers of Joseph Ratzinger’s 618 books with all
the translations; for each title the country, publisher, and place and year of
publication are given.The bibliography contains the writings of Ratzinger
(Pope Benedict XVI) published in Italian, which are divided into “Singole
opere” (16 pages) and “Singoli contributi” (14 pages). The origin of the
book was the exhibition “Ad multos libros” set up by Herder Verlag and the
Libreria Editrice Vaticana on the occasion of the pope’s visit to Germany
in September 2011. It does not pretend to be a complete catalog.
Green, Arthur (Ed. and Trans). Hasidic Spirituality for a New Era: The
Religious Writings of Hillel Zeitlin. [Classics of Western Spirituality].
(Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press. 2012. Pp. xx, 252. $34.95 hardcover; $26.95
paperback.)
Heft, James L. (Ed.), with John O’Malley, S.J. After Vatican II: Trajectories and
Hermeneutics. (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing. 2012.
Pp. xxii, 194. $40.00 paperback.)
Lapomarda,Vincent A. The Order of Alhambra: Its History and Its Memorials.
Third edition. (Baltimore: The International Order of Alhambra. 2011. Pp.
vi, 139. $15.00.) The first edition was published in 1994 and the second in
2004.
McCarthy, David Matzko. Sharing God’s Good Company: A Theology of the
Communion of Saints. (Grand Rapids, MI:William. B. Eerdmans Publishing.
2012. Pp. viii, 174. $28.00 paperback.)
Murray, Jacqueline (Ed.). Marriage in Premodern Europe: Italy and
Beyond. [Essays and Studies, vol. 27.] (Toronto: Centre for Reformation
and Renaissance Studies. 2012. Pp. 393. $32.00 paperback.) Among the
sixteen articles published in this volume are “‘Personal Rituals’: The
Office of Ceremonies and Papal Weddings, 1483–1521,” by Jennifer Mara
De Silva (pp. 49–73), and “Anne Wentworth’s Apocalyptic Marriages:
Bigamy, Subjectivity, and Religious Conflict,” by William E. Smith III (pp.
357–75).
217

218

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED

Ó Súilleabháin, Seán (Ed.). Miraculous Plenty: Irish Religious Folktales and
Legends. (Dublin: Four Courts Press. Distrib, ISBS, Portland, OR. 2012. Pp.
xiv, 294. $35.00 paperback). This is a translation of the Scéalta
Cráibhtheacha, which was first published in 1952.
Prodi, Paolo. Storia moderna o genesi della modernità? (Bologna: Il Mulino.
2012. Pp. 239. €22.00.) A collection of nine previously published essays.
Ramsey, Boniface. Beginning to Read the Fathers. Revised edition. (Mahwah,
NJ: Paulist Press. 2012. Pp. xii, 308. $24.95 paperback.)
Rutherford, Janet E., and David Woods (Eds.). The Mystery of Christ in the
Fathers of the Church. (Dublin: Four Courts Press. Distrib, ISBS, Portland,
OR. 2012. Pp. 244. $74.50.)
Ryan, Salvador, and Brendan Leahy (Eds.). Treasures of Irish Christianity:
People and Places, Images and Texts. (Dublin: Veritas Publications. 2012.
Pp. 286. €19.99). A collection of eighty-one brief articles dealing with history, liturgy, theology, philosophy, art history, and Celtic studies from the
fifth to the twenty-first century, with a special emphasis on the relationship between the Irish people and the Eucharist. It was inspired by the
theme of the 2012 International Eucharistic Congress held in Dublin.
Stabile, Susan J. Growing in Love and Wisdom: Tibetan Buddhist Sources for
Christian Meditation. (New York: Oxford University Press. 2013. Pp. viii,
260. $19.95.)
Van de Paverd, Frans. Quotiescumque: Greek Origin of a Latin Confessor’s
Guide. (Utrecht: Zuidam Uithof Drukkerijen. 2012. Pp. 204.)
Zeeden, Ernst Walter. Translated by Kevin G. Walker. Faith and Act: The
Survival of Medieval Ceremonies in the Lutheran Reformation. (St.
Louis: Concordia Publishing House. 2012. Pp. 147. $36.99 paperback.)
Originally published as Katholische Überlieferungen in den lutherischen
Kirchenordnungen des 16. Jahrhunderts by Aschendorff in Münster in
1959.