The Catholic Historical
Review
VOL. XCIX

JULY, 2013

No. 3

ALFONSO VIII,THE CASTILIAN EPISCOPATE,
AND THE ACCESSION OF
RODRIGO JIMÉNEZ DE RADA
AS THE ARCHBISHOP OF TOLEDO IN 1210
BY

BERNARD F. REILLY *

At the beginning of the thirteenth century in Castille, the initiative
in the selection of prelates in the Catholic Church remained the
purview of the crown. The processes developed in the canon law of
the Church over the preceding two centuries constrained the operation of royal control but could seldom entirely frustrate it.The difficulties of communication and travel in the premodern age gave a
usually insuperable advantage to local power. Nevertheless, local
political realities shaped the royal advantage, and papal approbation and cooperation often was useful to offset them.
Keywords: Alfonso VIII of Leon-Castile, Archbishopric of Toledo;
Jimenez de Rada, Rodrigo; Las Navas de Tolosa
Rodrigo Jiménez de Rada (c. 1170–1247 AD) was incontestably the
greatest churchman of Iberia in the thirteenth century. For thirtyseven years he was the archbishop of Toledo, which had been for 125
years the chief see of the emerging kingdom of León-Castile, in one of
the most brilliant periods of its history. As archbishop of Toledo, he
also was primate of Iberia and thus stood at the apex of its ecclesiastical power structure from Braga in Portugal, to Santiago de
Compostela in Galicia, and to Tarragona in Aragón-Catalonia.
*Dr. Reilly is professor emeritus of history at Villanova University, email
RMmrbfr@aol.com.

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THE ACCESSION OF RODRIGO JIMÉNEZ DE RADA AS THE ARCHBISHOP OF TOLEDO

Inevitably, therefore, he was deeply involved in the politics of the
Roman papacy. Rodrigo was prominent at the Fourth Lateran Council
of 1215, and in fact he died in 1247 while returning from a visit to the
papal court at Lyons. As archbishop of Toledo, he was the primary
administrator of that church’s extensive and growing religious, property, and legal rights within the growing boundaries of the kingdom
of Castile.
At the same time, the archbishop was always the courtier. He
played a prominent role during the latter part of the reign of Alfonso
VIII (1158–1214), served in the regency during the reign of the unfortunate Enrique I (1214–17), and remained an important figure during
the reign of Fernando III (1217–52). He was, by turns, prelate, diplomat, and chancellor of the realm, as well as warrior, present at the
great battle of Las Navas de Tolosa in 1212, which put a definitive end
to the 500-year-old Muslim predominance in the Iberian peninsula.
Arguably, he also was its greatest Latin historian and among its greatest men of Latin letters. Despite a fairly active literature on his various
activities, a comprehensive and modern biography of that archbishop
and primate continues to be desirable.1 A great many things about
Rodrigo lack satisfactory explication, but the circumstances surrounding his accession will be the focus here.
Why was this young, well-born cleric and gentleman from the
northern kingdom of Navarre suddenly promoted to the primatial see
of Iberia in 1210? Granted, his family was not without influence, but
it was not on par with the great contemporary lineages of the
Castilian Castros and the Laras or even the border lineage of the
Haros. At the beginning of the thirteenth century, the family of
1

Javier Gorosterratzu, Don Rodrigo Jiménez de Rada. Gran estadista, escritor y
prelado (Pamplona, 1925), was a major achievement for the time, but the splendid work
in medieval studies in Iberia during the last century has left it now seriously dated. A
lively but popular work is Manuel Ballesteros Gaibrois, Don Rodrigo Jiménez de Rada
(Madrid, 1936, repr. 1943). Hilda Grassotti,“Don Rodrigo Ximenez de Rada, Gran Señor
y Hombre de Negocios en la Castilla del siglo XIII,” Cuadernos de Historia de España,
55–56 (1972), 1–302, considerably widened the focus on his life and career in an almost
book-length article that needs to be integrated with earlier studies, and the whole supplemented with ongoing scholarship. Ramón Gonzálvez Ruiz, Hombres y Libros de
Toledo, 1086–1300 (Madrid, 1997), pp. 163–202, adds nothing new. Bernard F. Reilly,
“The De Rebus Hispanie and the Mature Latin Chronicle in the Iberian Middle Ages,”
Viator, 43 (2012), 131–45, is currently the most extended treatment of his literary craft.
Peter Linehan treats Rodrigo as historian at some length; see Linehan, History and
Historians of Medieval Spain (Oxford, 1993), pp. 267–462.

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BY BERNARD F. REILLY

FIGURE 1. Family of Rodrigo Jiménez de Rada
Sancha Gómez

de Finojosa Sibling

Rodrigo de Verdejo
Bishop of Sigüenza

Miguel Muñoz de Finojosa

Martin López de Finojosa
Bishop of Sigüenza
Abbot,
Santa María de Huerta

Jimeno Pérez de Rada

Eva de Finojosa

Jimeno de Rada

Rodrigo Jiménez de Rada
Archbishop of Toledo
Primate of Iberia

Note: Partially based on Duggan, The “Cantor de mio Cid”

Rodrigo was still chiefly valuable to the crown of Castile for its influence in Navarre and in the northeastern borderlands of Castile that
abutted it (see figure 1). His grandfather was Jimeno Pérez de Rada, an
influential noble of Navarre, and his mother, Eva de Finojosa, was
related to its royal house. His uncle was Martín López de Finojosa,
bishop of Sigüenza in Castile (1186–1192) and subsequently
Cistercian abbot of the important and strategically sited monastery of
Santa María de la Huerta on the Castilian northeastern frontier until
his death in 1213. Rodrigo de Verdejo, cousin of the future archbishop
of Toledo and nephew of Martín, succeeded his uncle as bishop in
Sigüenza (1192–1221).
Despite his distinguished connections and ability to communicate with other churchmen of the realm via his proficiency in Latin,
Rodrigo Jiménez remained a foreigner, given the social and political
dynamic of the age. He was a Navarrese, not a Castilian, and in Iberia
that simple distinction has very real resonances even in the present
day. Despite the power of Rodrigo’s relatives, the largely Castilian
circles of the royal retinue would have regarded his family and him
as interlopers or rude frontier people. Even after Rodrigo was
installed at Toledo by a combination of papal and royal fiats, he took
care to bolster his position by adding a strong contingent of
Navarrese clerics to its cathedral chapter. Still, in the closing years of
his life, he and his Navarrese associates found themselves living in
virtual exile from Toledo and skirmishing with the cathedral chapter

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THE ACCESSION OF RODRIGO JIMÉNEZ DE RADA AS THE ARCHBISHOP OF TOLEDO

and the native clergy, even as he remained archbishop of Toledo and
primate of all Iberia.2
Rodrigo, born about 1170 and educated in Bologna and Paris,
returned to Iberia in 1207.3 This young man—a cleric and probably a
deacon as university students in theology tended to be and apparently
a new player in the politics of the kingdom of Castile—was plucked
from relative obscurity to be awarded the bishopric of Osma and, yet
more curiously, later promoted by the imperious Alfonso VIII to the
most important see of the realm, the most desirable ecclesiastical
appointment in Iberia.4 There is some evidence that he was, at least
briefly, a canon of the cathedral of Burgos.Ties between the cathedral
chapters of Toledo and Burgos were close during this period.5
But Toledo was the primatial see of all Iberia. In Castile, its occupant headed the list of the prelates of the kingdom in the royal diplo2
Peter Linehan,“Don Rodrigo and the Government of the Kingdom,” Cahiers de linguistique et de civilization hispaniques médiévales, 26 (2003), 87–99. In a recent
study, Carlos Estepa Díez notes that no member of that family even appears in the list
of the twenty-five magnates mentioned most frequently in the royal diplomas; see
Estepa Díez, “El Reino de Castilla de Alfonso VIII (1158–1214),” in Poder Real y
Sociedad: Estudios sobre el Reinado de Alfonso VIII (1158–1214), ed. Carlos Estepa
Díez, Ignacio Alvarez Borge, and José María Santamarta Luengos (León, 2011), pp. 11–94.
3
Juan Fernández Valverde provides an authoritative but brief account of the very
little that is known of Rodrigo’s early life, basing it on a roughly contemporary monastic vita and other documents; see Fernández Valverde, ed., De Rebus Hispanie [Corpus
Christianorum, Medieval Series, 72], (Turnhout, Belgium, 1987), p. ix. In turn, it is based
upon a roughly contemporary monastic vita. See also Juan Fernández Valverde, trans.,
Historia de los hechos de Espana (Madrid, 1989). For a synopsis of the family genealogy, see Joseph J. Duggan, The “Cantar de mio Cid” (New York, 1989), pp. 86–87.
Gorosterratzu cites a charter of Alfonso VIII to the monastery of Oña dated to July 17,
1203, that confirms Rodrigo as archbishop-elect of Toledo; see Gorosterratzu, Don
Rodrigo, pp. 58–59. The full text and the correct date of 1209 is provided by Julio
González, El Reino de Castilla en la época de Alfonso VIII, 3 vols. (Madrid, 1960),
3:487–88.
4
Juan Fernández Valverde and Juan Antonio Estévez Sola assert that Rodrigo had
composed his Breviarium Historie Catholice while in Paris, intending it as a text for
use in Alfonso VIII’s projected university at Palencia; see Fernández Valverde and
Estévez Sola, eds., Roderici Ximenii de Rada, Historiae Minores: Dialogus Libri Vite
(Turnhout, 1999), pp. 28–33,.Whereas the place and time of composition is plausible,
the latter assertion is far less likely.
5
Luciano Serrano, El Obispado de Burgos y Castilla primitive desde el siglo V al
XIII, 3 vols. (Madrid, 1935), 3:180–81 n5. José Manuel Garrido Garrido published the
chapter document from a thirteenth-century copy; see Garrido Garrido, ed.,
Documentación de la catedral de Burgos,vol. 2 (Burgos, 1983), p. 196. It is confirmed
by one “Roy Xemenez archidiaconus,” among others, and dated only to August 1207.

BY BERNARD F. REILLY

441

mas—just after the citation of the king as “Dei gratia rex Castellae et
Toleti,” the royal majordomo, and the royal alférez—and had done so
since Alfonso VIII’s accession in 1158. Clearly Toledo’s archbishop was
the chief ecclesiastic of the realm. In Rome, popes might define ecclesiastical jurisdictions based on such historical knowledge as they possessed or on their present necessities, but in Iberia the king of Castile
defined them in terms of his ambitions in the peninsula.
For example, in an original royal diploma of February 5, 1205, the
name of Martín López de Pisuerga, archbishop of Toledo, preceded
that of Fernando, bishop of Burgos.6 Now Burgos had been an exempt
see independent of all metropolitan authority—including Toledo’s—
ever since Alfonso VI had secured that exemption from Pope Urban II
in 1096, in pursuit of a then rather different royal design.7 But, in the
royal order of things as given here, its subordination was clear.8 Just
below was Bishop Arderico of Palencia, whose see had both old and
new ambitions, followed by Bishop Diego of Osma. Both of these sees
had secure Visigothic credentials, as Palencia had been restored during
the reign of Fernando I of León-Castile (1037–65) and Osma during
that of Alfonso VI (1065–1109). As such, they were established suffragans of Toledo.9 Bishops Rodrigo of Sigüenza and Gonzalo of Segovia,
also suffragans, appeared next. At the end of the list came Bishop Pedro
of Ávila. The archbishops of Toledo and Santiago de Compostela had
fought for control of Ávila since Pope Calixtus II had made it part of
the new archiepiscopal see in Galicia in 1124.10 But in 1205
Compostela was the metropolitan see of a rival ecclesiastical province
6
González, Reino, 3:348–49. Although the González collection is valuable, it is not
the badly needed critical edition of Alfonso VIII’s documents, and its evaluations and
classification of them must be treated with caution. Recently a major step toward a critical edition has been supplied by Carlos Estepa Díez,“Nuevas diplomas de Alfonso VIII,”
in Estepa Díez,Alvarez Borge, and Santamarta Luengos, eds., Poder Real y Sociedad, pp.
271–308. Estepa Díez does not supply their text but lists references to fifty-eight additional diplomas and makes corrections to forty others in the González collection.
7
Bernard F. Reilly, The Kingdom of León-Castilla under King Alfonso VI,
1065–1109 (Princeton, 1988), p. 264.
8
Not that the order of the list invariably demonstrated the relative importance of
the see. Usually that order seems to respond to its incumbent’s seniority in the episcopal dignity. This is another matter that a critical edition might clarify. However, it is
clear that Toledo’s primacy in the list was inviolate so long as there was a current
incumbent.
9
Reilly, Alfonso VI, pp. 16, 140–42, 198–99.
10
Bernard F. Reilly, The Kingdom of León-Castilla under Queen Urraca, 1109–1126
(Princeton, 1982), pp. 242–45.

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THE ACCESSION OF RODRIGO JIMÉNEZ DE RADA AS THE ARCHBISHOP OF TOLEDO

in a separate kingdom of León ruled by Alfonso IX (1188–1230)—the
cousin, sometime son-in-law, and often active competitor of Alfonso of
Castile. However, since the Christian demographic drift southwest of
the past two centuries had created a substantial Castilian population in
Ávila, it was a Castilian see in the eyes of Alfonso of Castile.
Entered before the name of Pedro of Ávila was the name of Bishop
Julian of Cuenca, whose diocese had been under the control of the
Muslim Almohads of Andalucía until Alfonso VIII conquered it in 1177.
Cuenca lacked an episcopal pedigree in antiquity. Pope Lucius III
legitimated Cuenca’s episcopal dignity in 1183, transferring to it the
vanished, late-classical bishoprics of Valeria and Arcávica.11 This 1205
hierarchy of the realm further enlarged when Alfonso VIII sought an
end to conflict with Sancho VII of Navarre (1194–1234) at Guadalajara on October 29, 1207. In a royal charter issued on October 25,
1207, just four days before a treaty was enacted between the rivals,
Bishop Bricius of Plasencia was added to the episcopal list. Plasencia,
a forward bastion of the realm in the southwest on the middle Tajo,
was located in León in an area then styled Extremadura. The archbishop of Compostela and the king of León thus could claim it. It was
part of a region conquered by Castile from the Almohads in 1180, subsequently lost to them, and definitively reconquered in 1196. Pope
Clement III had approved the erection of the see in 1189. Similarly,
Bishop Juan of Calahorra on the middle Ebro—another ancient see,
restored in 1088 and sometimes in play among the realms of Navarre,
Aragón, and Castile—also was cited in the charter.12 Clearly in 1207
the Church in the kingdom of Castile was a work in progress.
The treaty text with Navarre of that year mentioned Jimeno de
Rada, Rodrigo’s father, as a guarantor of its terms.13 But the son’s court
11
José Manuel Nieto Soria, “La fundación del obispado de Cuenca (1177–1183):
Consideraciones político-ecclesiásticas,” Hispania Sacra, 34 (1982), 111–32, here 117.
See also James F. Powers,“The Early Reconquest Episcopate of Cuenca, 1177–1284,” The
Catholic Historical Review, 87 (2010), 1–16.
12
González, Reino, 3:423–24.A royal grant to the bishopric of Sigüenza of October
25,1207, cited both prelates. It is a copy made later in the century. For details on the
struggles over the see, consult Carolina Carl, A Bishopric between Three Kingdoms:
Calahorra, 1045–1190 (Boston, 2011), pp. 181–203.
13
González, Reino, 3:424–29.The diplomatic of treaties, unlike that of charters, did
not ordinarily list confirmants.The assertions sometimes made that the young Rodrigo
was the architect of the treaty are gratuitous and seem largely to be based upon his later
prominence. Typical is the treatment in Gorosterratzu, Don Rodrigo, pp. 43–44.
Rodrigo was not mentioned.

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443

debut, the first royal recognition of his return to Iberia, occurred
almost a year later, when he was cited as bishop-elect of Osma in a
royal diploma of July 23, 1208, and was certainly so cited in another
of September 23, 1208, as bishop-elect in Osma.14 Diego, former
bishop of that stronghold high on the northeast frontier of Castile on
the upper Duero, had died on December 30, 1207, and Alfonso VIII
must surely have considered the political and strategic implications of
selecting Diego’s successor. Over the next six months, another seven
royal diplomas cited Rodrigo as presiding in Osma.15
Among these eight royal diplomas, four are particularly interesting,
since they cite Rodrigo as bishop rather than bishop-elect of Osma.
These are dated November 11, 1208; November 17, 1208; February 5,
1209; and March 13, 1209.16 Their number is significant, because they
suggest that Rodrigo may have been formally recognized by the
papacy as bishop rather than as merely “bishop-elect.”Although copyists were capable of dropping the particular designation of “elect,” the
relative number of such documents without the “elect” term must be
considered. Moreover, González cited the document of March 13,
1209, in the Segovia archive as an original, its lead seal still attached,
and it is hard to fault its diplomatic.17
Meanwhile, in archepiscopal Toledo, Martín López de Pisuerga had
died on August 28, 1208, and it is likely that the king would have
moved swiftly to select a successor to that important position. There is
a private document dated to the feast of All Saints, November 1, 1208,
14
González, Reino, 3:446–48; the September diploma is printed from the original in
the Toledo cathedral archive. Francisco J. Herñandez agrees that it is an original; see
Herñandez, Los Cartularios de Toledo (Madrid, 1985), pp. 297–98. Juan Loperráez
Corvalón cited the earlier appearance of Rodrigo as bishop-elect in a royal diploma,
given at Burgos and dated July 23, 1208, to one “alcalde” F. Minaya; see Loperráez
Corvalón, Descripción histórica del obispado de Osma, 3 vols. (Madrid, 1788),
1:197–98. Listing an Alfonsine diploma given at Burgos on July 28 is González, Reino,
3:444–45.The last appearance of the former bishop Diego of Osma in the royal documents had been on November 30, 1207; see Gonzalez, Reino, 3:430–33. For Bishop
Diego and his predecessors at Osma, see González, Reino, 1:427–29.
15
Gonzalez, Reino, 3:471–72, dated March 13, 1209, is the last in the series.
16
Gonzalez, Reino, pp. 448–49, 448–50, 467–69, 471–72.
17
Luis-Miguel Villar García also accepted it as original; see Villar García, ed.,
Documentación medieval de la cathedral de Segovia,1115–1300 (Salamanca, 1990),
pp. 159–60.The earliest literary record, apparently a eulogy by the contemporary monk
Richard of Santa María de Huerta, began the tradition that Rodrigo had not been consecrated as bishop in Osma before his election to Toledo. See Fernández Valverde,
trans., Historia de los hechos, p. 13.

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THE ACCESSION OF RODRIGO JIMÉNEZ DE RADA AS THE ARCHBISHOP OF TOLEDO

that states, “Rodrigo Jimenez elect in Toledo.”18 On January 5, 1209,
there is an Alfonsine diploma that cites Rodrigo as “elect” in Toledo, but
it is a copy of the early-fifteenth century. Subsequent royal documents,
listed above, continued to cite him as elect in Osma and sometimes
even bishop in Osma.19 Moreover, it is difficult to imagine that Alfonso
would have prejudiced his own best interests by recognizing his candidate’s election before he had received papal approval of the process.
Incontrovertible documentary evidence of Rodrigo’s election to
Toledo first appears in two bulls of Innocent III dated February 27
and April 9, 1209. Both addressed him as “elect.” In the first of these
the pope accepted the election of Rodrigo to Toledo as valid, authorized his “translation” from Osma to Toledo, and counseled that the
new archbishop-elect be promptly ordained to the priesthood.20 The
second of these informed Rodrigo of the status of his cousin, Bishop
Rodrigo of Sigüenza, then accused of striking and killing a young man
with his pastoral staff during a riot in Sigüenza’s cathedral.21 The first
reliable royal diplomas in which Rodrigo Jiménez is cited as elect in
Toledo are dated May 17 and May 27, 1209.22 They are followed by ten
others that so style him, ending with one of February 25, 1210.23 The
first document in which he appeared as archbishop proper is a bull
of Innocent III dated March 4, 1210, confirming Rodrigo in the primacy.24 The first royal diploma that cited him as such was dated on
March 10—six days later.25
18

“In Toleto electus Roi Semenez”: Luciano Serrano, ed., Colección Diplomática de
San Salvador el Moral, [Fuentes para la Historia de Castilla, 1], (Madrid, 1906), pp.
90–91. Serrano called it an original. Care is nonetheless in order, since the diplomatic
of private documents of the period can be quite diverse.
19
Gonzalez, Reino, 3:462–63. The diploma is a fuero given to the town council of
Ávila and is contained in a copy of 1414. It also lists Tellus as bishop-elect of Palencia
and García as bishop-elect of Cuenca.
20
Demetrio Mansilla, ed., La Documentación Pontificia hasta Inocencio III,
965–1216 (Rome, 1955), pp. 416–17.
21
A notice of a thirteenth-century copy appears in Hernández, Cartularios, p. 530.
The oldest document of the cathedral itself in which he figures as elect is an original
in Arabic dated to October 1209, cited in Hernández, Cartularios, p. 281. The earliest
Toledan document in which he appears as the archbishop proper is dated June 1210
and appears as a copy in Hernández, Cartularios, pp. 282–83.
22
González, Reino, 3:473–74, to the monastery of San Millán, called an original by
the editor and ibid, pp. 475–76, to the monastery of Las Huelgas, also styled an original.
23
A late copy appears in González, Reino, pp. 511–12.
24
An extract cited from the original in the cathedral archives appears in Hernández,
Cartularios, p. 648.
25
A copy appears in González, Reino, 3:512–13.

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445

It is instructive if this attested series of events can be viewed with
an eye to other royal concerns about the episcopal hierarchy of the
realm as well as to the difficulties of communication in the early-thirteenth century. There is no evidence that Rodrigo had been elected
to replace Bishop Diego of Osma before the royal diploma of July 23,
1208, although Diego had been dead since late December. The
process for securing the new bishop’s recognition in Rome likely
accounts for this delay. If news of his election had been forwarded as
soon as the seas were open in early spring 1208, it is possible that a
papal bull approving such a step and the necessary consecration
could have reached Alfonso VIII by July. The cathedral chapter at
Osma was not in a position to oppose what was surely a royal nomination, no matter how it was phrased or the chapter’s reaction to the
appointment. Such things did not happen except during the reigns of
the very weakest of kings.26
Two further complications had quickly ensued. The death of
Bishop Diego was quickly followed by that of Bishop Julian of
Cuenca, which occurred probably early in February 1208.27
26

The election of a bishop was vested in the canons of the cathedral chapter by
Lateran Council I (1123). Papal approval had to be secured before an archbishop could
consecrate a bishop. Transfer (translation) from one see to another was, legally, at the
discretion of the pope alone. Canon law ignored royal claims, but strong monarchs
asserted their right of prior nomination and presence at an election. The most spectacular church-state quarrels of the Middle Ages often involved this set of procedures.
Canonists from Gratian’s time elaborated the various clerical prerogatives, but the
office was too critical for the law entirely to trump political considerations. The legal
development is outlined by Robert L. Benson, The Bishop-Elect (Princeton, 1968).
Such struggles were common to Iberia. See Bernard F. Reilly, “On Getting to Be a
Bishop in León-Castile: The ‘Emperor’ Alfonso VII and the Post-Gregorian Church,”
Studies in Medieval and Renaissance History, 1 (1978), 37–68.Those conditions persisted, according to González, Reino, 1:411–19. A growing attention to canon law in the
peninsula, including its teaching and written commentaries, suggest even political
manipulation was becoming more conscious of proper form. A survey is provided by
Antonio García y García, “La Canonística Ibérica (1150–1250) en la investigación
reciente,” Bulletin of Medieval Canon Law, ns., 11 ( 1981), 51–75. Commentators and
teachers in the peninsula fill a dozen pages (pp. 53–65). Ugolinus de Sesso appears in
a final “nota adicional,” on pp. 74–75. See also Domenico Maffei, “Fra Cremma,
Montpelier e Palencia nel secolo XII: Ricerche su Ugolino de Sesso,” Revista internazionale de diritto commune 1 (1990), 9–30.
27
His death is given as January 28, 1208, by F. Perez, “Cuence,” Dictionnaire
d’Histoire et de Géographie Ecclésiastiques, 13 (Paris, 1938), col. 1089. However, he
was last cited in an original royal diploma to the church of Palencia, dated January 31,
1208. He has disappeared by the date of another on February 25. González styles both
originals; see González, Reino 3:433–34, 435–38.

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THE ACCESSION OF RODRIGO JIMÉNEZ DE RADA AS THE ARCHBISHOP OF TOLEDO

Additionally, Bishop Arderico of Palencia had died sometime in late
1207 or very early in 1208. His last appearance in a royal diploma had
been on June 2, 1207, and by February 25, 1208, his successor, Tello
Téllez de Meneses, already appears as elect in Palencia in another.28
Thus, selections had to be made in quick succession, involving almost
a third of the ten bishoprics of the realm. Moreover, two selections
would directly affect the not inconsiderable lineages of the Finojosa
and the Meneses families.29
Indeed, even if the royal candidate for Palencia had been chosen
promptly, new selections for Cuenca and Osma probably waited on the
king’s Easter court in April 1208. Due notice to Rome and request for
confirmation of all three could only have been dispatched for Rome
that spring. Recall that the seas were rarely open during the winter
months at that time, and the land journey from Iberia to Rome required
usually more than two months.30 The fact that both Rodrigo Jiménez de
Rada and García of Cuenca first were cited as elect together in a royal
diploma of September of that year suggests that those two matters may
have been treated as inseparable from the first.31 Possibly all three of
these elections were awaiting papal approval when Archbishop Martín
López de Pisuerga of Toledo died in late August 1208. Although the
rapid filling of that key position would have been desirable, the documents record a rather different train of events.
28
González calls this a copy; see González, Reino, 3:417–19. The second is a grant to
a private individual; see González, Reino, 3:434–38. González calls one of its many surviving texts an original. However, his sixty-five citations over the next four years illustrate the problematic character of his collection. In a strong minority of seventeen,Tello
is listed as “bishop,” and of these the editor calls eight “originals.” This confusion continues until Tello is cited as “Palentinus episcopus” in the royal diploma of June 15,
1212, given in Toledo, where he was likely consecrated during the preparations for the
campaign of Las Navas de Tolosa; see González, Reino, pp. 565–66.The earliest appearance of Tello as “elect” is in a private document of Palencia dated to May 6, 1209. See
Teresa Abajo Martín, ed., Documentación de la Catedral de Palencia, 1035–1247
(Palencia, 1986), pp. 247–49. On July 29, 1211, a private sale to the church of Palencia
called Tello “elect.” Martín, Documentación, pp. 251–52.
29
For the latter lineage, see the still useful studies of Salvador de Moxó, “De la
nobleza vieja a la nobleza nueva,” Cuadernos de Historia, 3 (1969), 65–69, and Julio
González, Historia de Palencia, vol. 1: Edades Antigua et Media (Palencia, 1984), pp.
189–95. There is a single reference to a member of the lineage in Margarita Torres
Sevilla-Quiñones de León, Linajes nobilarios en León y Castilla (siglos IX–XIII) (León,
1999), p. 153.
30
Richard W. Unger, The Ship in the Medieval Economy, 600–1600 (Montreal,
1980), pp. 128, 130–31, 175.
31
González, Reino, 3:446–48.

BY BERNARD F. REILLY

447

Circumstances suggest that Alfonso VIII faced a difficult political
situation. It is possible that Toledo had long been promised to Martín
de Finojosa, then bishop of Sigüenza. Relations between the primatial
see and that tiny suffragan nestled against the mountains some 200
kilometers northeast had long been close historically. Sigüenza’s first
bishop, Bernard of Agen (1121–51), had been a cantor of Toledo and a
protégé of Toledo archbishop Bernard of Salvetat.32 Probably as a
function of that connection, the former was transferred to the archbishopric of Santiago de Compostela in 1151.33 Bishop Pedro of
Leucate (1152–56), his nephew, succeeded him in Sigüenza.34 Pedro’s
successor, Bishop Cerebruno (1156–66), served earlier as an archdeacon in Toledo and returned as its archbishop (1166–78).35 Little information exists about Joscelyn (1168–78), Bishop Cerebruno’s successor in Sigüenza, but as he was a native of Aquitaine, it seems probable
that he, too, had some relationship to that group of French clerics
whose epicenter was in Toledo, although he was the last of that tenacious group.36 His successor, Bishop Arderico (1178–84), was
Milanese—a curious choice, given the history and location of provincial Sigüenza.37 The ordinary deduction has been that the intention of
Alfonso VIII to erect the cathedral school of Palencia into a studium
generale, a “university,” drew Arderico and other non-Iberians to the
city. However that may be, it has been difficult to establish the origins
of the “university of Palencia” as early as 1178, including any concern
with it at that time on the part of Alfonso VIII.38 Even if admitted, however, the selection of a magister—a “university don” who was an
Italian—to fill a Castilian see would have been remarkable. It seems to
have the air of an “interim” appointment.
32

Reilly, Urraca, pp. 246–47.
Bernard F. Reilly, The Kingdom of León-Castilla under King Alfonso VII,
1126–1157 (Philadelphia, 1998), pp. 256–57.
34
Reilly, Alfonso VII, pp. 256–57.
35
González, Reino, 1:416.
36
Toribio Mingüella y Arnedo, Historia de la diócesis de Sigüenza y de sus obispos
(Madrid, 1910), 1:118.
37
Maffei,“Fra Cremma,” especially 18–20,n. 30; see also Linehan, History, pp. 309–10.
In contrast, Serrano states that Arderico was born in Burgos, came from a family of
Italian origins, and served previously in Burgos as archdeacon; see Serrano, Obispado
de Burgos, 1:161–62.
38
María Jesús Fuente Pérez reviews the terminology, its contemporary distinctions,
and the surviving documents with the net effect of modifying earlier, traditional overstatements; see Fuente Pérez, La Primera Universidad Hispana (Palencia, 2012).
Maffei,“Fra Cremma,”p. 19, follows Alonso Fernández de Madrid, Silva Palentina, 3 vols.
(Palencia, 1932–42).
33

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THE ACCESSION OF RODRIGO JIMÉNEZ DE RADA AS THE ARCHBISHOP OF TOLEDO

Even more remarkable was the fact that someone of Bishop
Arderico’s background was subsequently appointed to the see of
Palencia (1183?/84–1208), where he remained until his death.39 It has
been suggested that the see of Palencia ceased to keep pace with
developments in the Castilian Church and realm during the latter part
of the long episcopacy of Ramón, the previous bishop (1148–84) who
was related to the royal house, and that Archbishop Gonzalo of Toledo
and the then-Bishop Arderico of Sigüenza cooperated to bolster
Ramón’s administration.40 Yet such a selection suggests the royal
desire to deny the see to a scion-candidate of a domestic noble house.
Scanty information about Bishop Gonzalo, Arderico’s successor at
Sigüenza (1184–86?), does not provide illumination on the matter.41
In light of this curious background, it is plausible that Bishop
Martín de Finojosa also had been promised the primatial see at the
time he succeeded to Sigüenza (shortly after 1184). When he retired
to the Cistercian monastery of Santa María de Huerta, following a dispute in 1192 with Alfonso VIII over the question of jurisdiction
between the Cistercians and the new royal foundation of Huelgas in
Burgos, he might have negotiated both the installation of his nephew,
Rodrigo de Verdejo, in Sigüenza and the promise of a later appointment for this nephew to Toledo. Such negotiations would make it
easier to understand why Rodrigo Jíménez believed that he, too, was
in line for a Castilian prelacy. His will, dated March 24, 1201, during
the time he was a deacon in Paris, even provided for his eventual
burial at Santa María de Huerta “if I should become a prelate.”42
39

Antonio Ubieto Arteta, ed., Listas episcopales medievales (Saragossa, 1989), 2:288.
Derek W. Lomax, “Don Ramón, Bishop of Palencia (1148–1184),” in Homenaje a
Jaime Vicens Vives, ed. Juan Maluquer de Motes y Nicolau (Barcelona, 1966), pp.
279–91, here p. 291.
41
Lomax,“Don Ramón,” p. 291. He appears first in the diploma of Alfonso VIII to the
monastery of San Millán dated at Nájera on December 1, 1184. González styled it as an
original; see González, Reino, 3:739–41. His only subsequent appearance in an Alfonsine
diploma, this time to a private individual, one Pedro Iñiguez, came on December 13,
1184. An eighteenth-century copy appears in González, Reino, 3:743–44.
42
“si prelatus fierem”: José Antonio García Luján gives the Latin text of the promise
from what he regarded as an original document in the archive of that monastery; see
García Luján, ed., Cartulario del Monasterio de Santa María de Huerta (Soria, 1981),
p. 113.This is a plausible conclusion, although study of the diplomatic of private documents in this period is not well developed. Gorosterratzu takes the will as a sign of
Rodrigo’s early and personal maturity of purpose; see Gorosterratzu, Don Rodrigo, pp.
34–35. The disposition makes no reference to a specific position, as this would have
been presumptuous.
40

BY BERNARD F. REILLY

449

Assuming such a background, the see of Toledo had become available at precisely the wrong time in August 1208. As previously mentioned, in the spring of that year Bishop Rodrigo de Verdejo had been
accused of assaulting a young man during a riot in his cathedral in
Sigüenza.The man subsequently died, and the matter could hardly be
hushed up.43 Were there now hurried negotiations with the house of
Finojosa in which Rodrigo Jiménez was advanced as a substitute at
Toledo for his cousin, with the understanding that a papal exoneration would be secured for the latter? If so, then the election of the
former by the Toledan cathedral chapter would have had to be
arranged and a set of new papers forwarded to Rome before the seas
closed for the winter, as was customary in Mediterranean seafaring.
Historians and biographers have largely ignored the possible connection between the scandal at Sigüenza and Archbishop Rodrigo’s
accession to Toledo, despite the obvious familial ties.44 Rome could
not have been other than surprised and cautious about the scope and
the novelty of the proposals emanating from the Castilian court.That
they were enacted so promptly may be more a measure of the current
necessities of Pope Innocent than of the efficacy of Castilian diplomacy. Innocent had just placed the entire kingdom of England under
an interdict, to last until 1213, as a result of a disputed election to the
see of Canterbury. Chaos threatened in the German Holy Roman
Empire when Philip of Hohenstaufen was murdered in June 1208, and
Otto of Wittelsbach returned from England—with King John’s support—to claim the imperial throne. Plans were already afoot in France
in 1209 to launch the baronage of the north under Simon de
Montfort, who would be pitted against the Albigensians and Raymond
VI, count of Toulouse, in a crusade that would last into 1214. Although
Castile was not a major player in any of these crises, Alfonso VIII
could not have been unaware of the need of the papacy for cooperation rather than confrontation.
The speed of the acceptance of his proposals is signaled by the fact
that already by February 27, 1209, Innocent III had written to the suffragans of Toledo informing them of his approval of Archbishop
43
González, Reino, 1:421–22. A letter of Innocent III to Bishop Rodrigo de Verdejo,
dated July 23, 1208, which permits the bishop to lift an excommunication and interdict
of several clerics of his chapter and diocese, suggests that Rodrigo’s proclivities were
already understood in Rome. Mansilla, Documentación, p. 403.
44
Gorosterratzu, Don Rodrigo, pp. 59–60; Ballesteros Gaibrois, Don Rodrigo
Jiménez de Rada, pp. 141–63. González notes the scandal but does not connect it with
Rada’s accession; see González, Reino, 1:421–22.

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THE ACCESSION OF RODRIGO JIMÉNEZ DE RADA AS THE ARCHBISHOP OF TOLEDO

Rodrigo Jiménez’s election, of the legitimacy of his “translation” from
the see of Osma, and of his recommendation that the inauguration of
Rodrigo’s rule at Toledo should not be delayed, but rather that he
should be ordained to the priesthood at a later, opportune time.45 On
April 6 and 7 the pope wrote to Bishop Rodrigo of Sigüenza authorizing some reorganization of the cathedral chapter there and recognizing as well an agreement with Toledo over ecclesiastical revenues.46
About the same time, on April 9, 1209, Innocent III wrote to Rodrigo
Jiménez as “archbishop-elect” of Toledo, authorizing him to allow his
cousin, Bishop Rodrigo de Verdejo, to celebrate the divine offices since
the charges of manslaughter against him had not been proven.47
Two further papal letters followed, both dated November 24, 1209.
One to Bishop Rodrigo of Sigüenza informed him that, as a result of
an investigation by surgeons and physicians arranged by his cousin,
Archbishop-elect Rodrigo Jiménez of Toledo, he had been found innocent of the homicide of the man in the cathedral, as the man actually
had died after an operation on his skull.The second, addressed to the
bishops of Segovia and Palencia, informed them of the papal verdict
and the necessity of enforcing its acceptance.This latter, perhaps, may
indicate not just the public infamy that the matter had attracted, but
the identity of some of those who had reason to promote opposition
to the settlement of it.48
The larger Iberian context of these ecclesiastical and political
negotiations, which increased the necessity of their urgent resolution,
was the intent of both crown and papacy to renew the struggle with
the Almohad power in Iberia. After his largely futile campaigns in
Gascony in the latter part of 1205 and 1206 to secure the inheritance
of his late wife, Eleanor, Alfonso VIII was ready to concentrate on
more proximate matters.49 The treaty with Navarre on October 29,
1207, was the first clear signal that Alfonso VIII had determined to
renew the struggle with the Almohads in Al-Andalus. The truces that
had been arranged with them after the disastrous Christian defeat at
Alarcos in 1195 were not now again to be renewed, useful as they had
45

Mansilla, Documentación, p. 416.
Mansilla, Documentación, pp. 418–19.
47
Hernández, Cartularios, p. 530.
48
Mansilla, Documentación, pp. 431–34.
49
Miguel Angel Ladero Quesada,“Castilla y León,” in Historia de España Menéndez
Pidal (Madrid, 1998), 9:403–554, is the most recent and reliable general guide to this
period in Iberia. For the campaign in Gascony, see pp. 523–26.
46

BY BERNARD F. REILLY

451

been. For this purpose, Navarre had not just to be neutralized but
recruited to the cause. Here, the aid of the house of Finojosa was most
important.
The initial, formal indication that what has come to be styled the
“Crusade of Las Navas de Tolosa” was in preparation is the bull of
Innocent III of February 16, 1210.50 Addressed to Archbishop Rodrigo
and his suffragans, it requested them to encourage the king and to
follow the example of Pedro II of Aragón and fight against the
“Saracens,” or at least that he not impede the campaign of that
Aragonese monarch.The bull makes no reference to prior discussion
of the matter. Rather, as recently as November 11, 1209, Innocent had
been entreating both Pedro of Aragón and Alfonso of Castile to assist
de Montfort in his battle against the count of Toulouse and the
Albigensians. The implication is that Innocent now recognized and
grasped a new opportunity to move the king of Castile in the former
direction.51
This papal letter of February 16 could not very well have arrived
in the peninsula before April 1210.Well before then, however, the king
and his heir, the Infante Fernando, had initiated a series of campaigns
along the Castilian eastern and southern borders with Murcia and
Andalucía. Such measures must certainly have been in contemplation,
even active preparation, in 1209. In this context, the letter of Innocent
III calling on the bishops of the peninsula to support the struggle
against the Almohads—issued, according to the pope, at the request
of Fernando—appears (when properly dated to December 10, 1210)
rather as his acquiescence in a royal fait accompli.52
Well before 1210 this Castilian activity on the frontiers had become
significant enough to have elicited first protests, then preparations,
and then finally the embarkation of an army from Morocco by the
Almohad caliph in spring 1211.53 The early successes of the African
50

See Mansilla, Documentación, pp. 430–31. Mansilla prints it with the correct date,
but Ladero Quesda, “Castilla,” p. 531 gave it as a year earlier. José Goñi Gaztambide,
Historia de la Bula de la Cruzada en España (Victoria, 1968), p. 110n1, gave the correct date and the history of the document’s citation, placing it then in the archive of
the cathedral of Toledo, calling it an original. Hernández does not list it in Cartularios.
The earlier dating is followed by González, Reino, 1:981–82.
51
J. P. Migne, ed., Patriologiae Latinae, 216 (Paris, 1855), col. 154.
52
Mansilla, Documentación, pp. 72–73.
53
Ladero Quesada,“Castilla,”pp. 407–554, esp. p. 532.A useful supplement is Gonzalo
Martínez Díez, Alfonso VIII, Rey de Castilla y de Toledo (Burgos, 1995), esp. pp.

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THE ACCESSION OF RODRIGO JIMÉNEZ DE RADA AS THE ARCHBISHOP OF TOLEDO

invading forces and the death of Fernando that fall were followed by
the dispatch of Archbishop Rodrigo of Toledo to France, where he
solicited crusading forces.
Within this larger context the success of Rodrigo Jiménez in resolving the matter of Sigüenza to the satisfaction of crown, papacy, and
presumably the family of the Finojosa would seem to have resulted in
the formal recognition of the new archbishop of Toledo first noted in
Alfonso VIII’s diploma of May 16, 1210.54 Bishop Rodrigo de Verdejo
of Sigüenza was confirmed there immediately after his cousin, the
new archbishop of Toledo. The February 16 bull of Innocent III to
Archbishop Rodrigo and his suffragan bishops directed them to influence Alfonso VIII to cooperate with, or at least not to impede, the
forthcoming crusade of Pedro II of Aragón against the Muslim
Almohads in the peninsula. It is best understood as a codicil to the
papacy’s accession to the terms of the settlement.55 In Castile, the
general reconciliation was reflected in a June pact of cooperation and
friendship, a hermandad, between the two bishop-cousins and their
respective cathedral chapters.56
A royal diploma of April 5, 1210, that still styled Rodrigo Jiménez as
archbishop-elect lays the groundwork for suggesting that royal recognition—and the all-important consecration—had come at Alfonso’s
Easter Court on April 18, 1210.57 Rodrigo’s dating of the conclusion of
his De Rebus Hispanie on March 31, 1243, adds “in the 33rd year of
my pontificate.”58 Thus Rodrigo dated his formal authority in office as
the term April 1, 1209–March 30, 1210. These dates are congruent
with the bull of papal confirmation in February 1210, news of which
could have reached the peninsula by May. Royal recognition is in evidence by May 16, and an Easter consecration in that year is probable.
García of Cuenca was still bishop-elect in Alfonso VIII’s diploma of
May 16, 1210, given at Cuenca, where Alfonso VIII was bolstering his

167–216. Summarizing this evidence but adding little that is new is Antonio García y
García,“Innocent III and the Kingdom of Castile,” in Pope Innocent III and His World,
ed. John C. Moore (Brookfield,VT, 1999), pp. 337–50.
54
González, Reino,3:520–22. This document is a thirteenth-century copy issued at
Cuenca.
55
Mansilla, Documentación, p. 436.
56
Hernández, Cartulario, pp. 282–83.
57
An original appears in González, Reino, 3:517–18.
58
Juan Fernández Valverde, Historia de Rebus Hispanie sive Historica Gothica,
[Corpus Christianorum: Continuatio Medievalis, 72], (Turnhout, 1987), p. 301.

BY BERNARD F. REILLY

453

frontier with al-Andalus.That may have furnished the occasion of that
prelate’s consecration, for a royal diploma issued on June 29, 1210,
cited García as bishop.59
Tello Téllez de Meneses, however, had a significantly longer wait for
papal recognition. It appears that Tello had been sent as royal agent to
the papal court in 1210, which suggests continuing royal favor. His
charge—to secure the appointment of a papal legate for the coming
crusade—was deemed inopportune by the pope.60 The trip may have
furnished him an opportunity for many a misstep in the very complicated business of the succession to Toledo. Not until June 15, 1212,
was he listed, finally, in a royal diploma simply as “bishop.”61 By then,
Alfonso VIII had begun the campaign that would culminate less than
a month later in the utter rout of the Muslim Almohads at Las Navas
de Tolosa on July 16, 1212. As Archbishop Rodrigo relates, the Te
Deum following that victory was sung by Bishops Tello of Palencia,
Rodrigo of Sigüenza, Menendo of Osma, Domingo of Placencia, Pedro
of Ávila, and a host of other clergy.62
This, the closest consideration of the events surrounding the
accession of Rodrigo Jiménez de Rada to the sees of Osma and Toledo
in the first decade of the thirteenth century, suggests the priority of
the royal initiative in that process at every turn, given the available
documentary evidence.That initiative was exercised in circumstances
of considerable complexity as episcopal vacancy piled upon episcopal vacancy in four short years, as scandal erupted in yet another see,
events all complicated by the royal determination to renew the contest with the Almohads for Andalucía. Bishops were, at the time, a critical part of the machinery of royal government and of the projection
59

González, Reino, 3:520–23.
Innocent’s refusal came in a bull to Alfonso VIII that mentions “[Adamum]
Palentinum electum nuntium tuum.” It was published as such from a seventeenth-century copy in the Vatican archives in Mansilla, Documentación, pp. 475–76. There was
no “Adam,” bishop of Palencia, and a copyist’s error is likely somewhere in a very long
manuscript tradition. In the most recent attempt to produce a satisfactory biography of
Tello, Modesto Salcedo speculates that the long period for which Tello was bishop-elect
might be explained by the fact that this “Adam” was temporarily holding Palencia while
functioning as an auxiliary to the archbishop of Toledo; see Salcedo,“Vida de Don Tello
Téllez de Meneses, Obispo de Palencia,” Publicaciones del Instituto de Tello Téllez
Meneses, 53 (Palencia, 1985), 79–266. Salcedo also identifies him with the later bishop
of Plasencia of that name. See pp. 128–29. Neither speculation convinces.
61
González, Reino, 3:565-66, an original.
62
Fernández Valverde, De Rebus, pp. 273–74.
60

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THE ACCESSION OF RODRIGO JIMÉNEZ DE RADA AS THE ARCHBISHOP OF TOLEDO

of its power. Although the assent of the papacy was critical to the
smooth operation of royal power, it becomes difficult to imagine,
given such duress, that Rome had reasonable alternatives than to legitimize it.
Similarly, the royal initiative itself was conditioned by commitments already made to local powers and to the necessities of its own
plans for the future. Given the evidence, there is little reason to imagine that Rodrigo in 1207 was other than an exceedingly fortunate
choice, a then largely unknown young cleric suggested to Alfonso VIII
by the necessities of an alliance with Navarre. His subsequent career
as primate of Iberia, archbishop of Toledo, warrior, royal statesman,
and man of letters could hardly have been discerned in its beginnings.

CATHOLICS AND SOUTHERN HONOR:
REV. PATRICK LYNCH’S PAPER WAR WITH
REV. JAMES HENLEY THORNWELL
BY

ADAM TATE*

The author examines the ability of Catholics in the American South
to utilize the language of honor, a major facet of Southern political
culture. The 1843 newspaper clash on the Apocrypha between
Patrick Lynch (future bishop of Charleston, South Carolina) and
James Henley Thornwell (influential Old School Presbyterian minister) demonstrated that Catholics in the South had adapted well to
republican politics. The debate transcended doctrine and became
an “affair of honor.” Catholics in the antebellum South learned to
use the tools of Southern political discourse to demonstrate their
sectional loyalty while rigorously defending Catholic doctrinal
positions.
Keywords: Lynch, Patrick; nativism; Southern Catholics; Southern
Presbyterians;Thornwell, James Henley
In Notes on the State of Virginia, Thomas Jefferson worried that
significant European immigration from countries with absolute
monarchies would doom American self-government.“In proportion to
their numbers,” he predicted,“they will share with us the legislation.”
“They will,” he intoned, “infuse into it their spirit, warp and bias its
direction, and render it a heterogeneous, incoherent, distracted mass.”
Jefferson articulated a concern shared by many in the early Republic:
a fear of non-English immigrants. Catholic immigrants faced great
opposition in the United States during the nineteenth century not
only from Protestants hostile to Catholic religious beliefs but also
from nativists who believed that immigrant Catholics, with their sup*Dr. Tate is professor of history at Clayton State University in Morrow, GA; email:
AdamTate@mail.clayton.edu. The author wishes to thank Kevin Schmiesing, David
Gilbert, Nathan Coleman, Russ Reeves, and the anonymous reviewers of The Catholic
Historical Review for their comments.

455

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CATHOLICS AND SOUTHERN HONOR

posed monarchical ideals and priest-ridden folkways, threatened the
Anglo-American republican political culture. Nativists pushed for
restrictions on immigration and longer waiting periods for naturalization. Although some couched their concerns in secular terms, many
nativists attacked Catholic religious beliefs as well. Catholics faced
tensions over allaying nativist worries on the one hand and maintaining an identity as Catholics on the other.1
American regionalism complicates the story. Catholics entering the
country during the 1830s and 1840s confronted not only an American
distrust of Catholicism but also growing sectional animosities. If
Catholics wanted to participate in American politics, they would have
to choose sides as well as learn a new political culture. The political
context affirms the observation of Timothy L. Smith that “each immigrant had to determine how to act in these new circumstances by reference not simply to a dominant ‘host’ culture but to a dozen competing subcultures.”2
Although most antebellum Catholics, particularly the Irish, joined
the Democratic Party, participation in the public culture of the antebellum era was complex and potentially treacherous. Choosing one
side meant alienating others.As a religious minority often facing deep
suspicions by a Protestant majority, Catholics dedicated to maintaining their religion faced certain opposition. Successful combating of
nativism partially depended on Catholics’ skillful use of the political
and social tools of American culture.
For Catholics migrating to the Deep South, one such tool was the
Southern ideal of honor. Bertram Wyatt-Brown argues that the social
ethic of honor distinguished the South from the rest of the country
during the antebellum period and led to a highly aggressive political
culture. Southern honor, according to Wyatt-Brown, consisted of an
“inner conviction of self-worth” on the part of an individual, a public
claim made by the individual of his “self-assessment,” and the judgment of the public thereby establishing the individual’s “reputation.”
The public nature of the culture of honor led to the creation of a stylized discourse and ethical code by which its practitioners could
1
Thomas Jefferson,“Query VIII,” Notes on the State of Virginia, in Thomas Jefferson:
Writings, ed. Merrill D. Peterson (New York, 1984), p. 211. Dale T. Knobel, “America for
the Americans”: The Nativist Movement in the United States (New York, 1996).
2
Timothy L. Smith,“Religion and Ethnicity in America,” American Historical Review.
83, (1978), 1155–85, here 1175.

BY ADAM TATE

457

establish and protect their reputations. Dueling represented the
extreme recourse, but other forms of combat arose, particularly the
paper war—what historian Joanne Freeman terms a “bloodless duel”
carried out in newspapers. In a paper war, conflicting parties attacked
one another’s reputations in print while defending their own positions. For Wyatt-Brown, the ubiquitous honor culture of the South
served as a powerful cultural and political force that affected all who
lived in the region.3
The story of Catholic cultural engagement in the Deep South has
gone largely unexplored outside of a few biographies of Southern
churchmen and some excellent, although unpublished, dissertations.4
Most accounts focus either on Catholic compatibility with democracy
or Catholic approaches to race and slavery.5 A number of historians
have focused on John England, the first bishop of Charleston, South
Carolina, when exploring these issues. England has been portrayed as
3
Bertram Wyatt-Brown, Southern Honor: Ethics and Behavior in the Old South
(New York, 1982), pp. 14, 3–24; Joanne Freeman, Affairs of Honor: National Politics in
the New Republic (New Haven, 2001), pp. xvi, 132. Other information comes from Freeman’s introduction (pp. xiii–xxiv) and chapter 3 (“The Art of Paper War,” pp. 105–58).
4
Michael J. McNally’s observations that “secondary material on Catholicism in the
Southeast is scarce, especially material on the lower states” and that primary sources
often are rare still ring true. Michael J. McNally, “A Peculiar Institution: A History of
Catholic Parish Life in the Southeast (1850–1980),” in The American Catholic Parish: A
History from 1850 to the Present,Vol. 1 (New York, 1987), pp. 117–233, here p. 122.
5
See Thomas Paul Thigpen, “Aristocracy of the Heart: Catholic Lay Leadership in
Savannah, 1820–1870” (PhD diss., Emory University, 1995); David Gleeson, The Irish in
the South, 1815–1877 (Chapel Hill, 2001), pp. 74, 121, 129; David Gleeson, “‘No
Disruption of Union’:The Catholic Church in the South and Reconstruction,” in Vale of
Tears: New Essays on Religion and Reconstruction, ed. Edward J. Blum and W. Scott
Poole (Macon, 2005), pp. 164–86; and Christopher Stokes,“Catholics in Beulahland: The
Church’s Encounter with Anti-Catholicism, Nativism, and Anti-Abolitionism in the
Carolinas and Georgia, 1820–1845” (PhD diss., Rice University, 2001). In addition, see
Daniel Kearns, “Immigrant Catholics, the Market Revolution, and the Creation of
Jacksonian Democracy” (PhD diss., University of Kentucky, 2003); Randall M. Miller,“A
Church in Cultural Captivity: Some Speculations on Catholic Identity in the Old South,”
in Catholics in the Old South: Essays on Church and Culture (Macon, GA, 1983), pp.
11–52; Randall M. Miller,“The Failed Mission:The Catholic Church and Black Catholics
in the Old South,” Catholics in the Old South, pp. 149–70; Randall M. Miller,“Catholics
in a Protestant World:The Old South Example,” in Varieties of the Southern Religious
Experience, ed. Samuel S. Hill (Baton Rouge, 1988), pp. 115–34; Robert Emmett Curran,
“Rome, the American Church, and Slavery,” in Building the Church in America, ed.
Joseph C. Linck, and Raymond J. Kupke (Washington, DC, 1999), pp. 30–49; and Andrew
Stern, “Southern Harmony: Catholic-Protestant Relations in the Antebellum South,”
Religion and American Culture, 17 (2007), 165–90.

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CATHOLICS AND SOUTHERN HONOR

an extraordinary figure for his engagement of American culture. He
worked to create national councils for American bishops and published
the first weekly Catholic newspaper in the country, the United States
Catholic Miscellany. In addition to his ecclesiastical duties, he used
public discourse as a way of demonstrating his ability to navigate republican politics. He confronted opponents of Catholic migration to
America directly and forcefully in his writings,considered difficult political topics such as nullification (which he opposed in 1832), and even
addressed Congress in 1826 about the compatibility of Catholicism
with the American political system.6 Aware of Southern honor culture,
he publicly opposed dueling and proved himself in many paper wars
with Protestant ministers in the pages of the Miscellany. England established a pattern that his successors would follow.7
6
See John Gilmary Shea, History of the Catholic Church in the United States,Vol. 3
(New York, 1890), pp. 306–29, 580–95; Peter Guilday, The Life and Times of John
England, 2 vols. (New York, 1927); Paul Foik, Pioneer Catholic Journalism (New York,
1930), pp. 75–93; Joseph L. O’Brien, John England—Bishop of Charleston: The Apostle
to Democracy (New York, 1934); and Richard Rousseau, “The Greatness of John
England,” The American Ecclesiastical Review, 168 (1974), 196–206. See also Patrick
Carey, “The Laity’s Understanding of the Trustee System, 1785–1855,” The Catholic
Historical Review, 64 (1978), 357–76; Patrick Carey, “Voluntaryism: An Irish Catholic
Tradition,”Church History, 48 (1979), 49–62; Patrick Carey, An Immigrant Bishop: John
England’s Adaptation of Irish Catholicism to American Republicanism (Yonkers, NY,
1982); Peter Clarke, A Free Church in a Free Society:The Ecclesiology of John England,
Bishop of Charleston, 1820–1842 (Greenwood, SC, 1983); Richard C. Madden,
Catholics in South Carolina (Lanham, MD, 1985), pp. 31–49; Margaret Mary Reher,
Catholic Intellectual Life in America: A Historical Study of Persons and Movements
(New York, 1989), pp. 19–27; R. Frank Saunders and George Rogers, “Bishop John
England of Charleston: Catholic Spokesman and Southern Intellectual, 1820–1842,”
Journal of the Early Republic, 13 (1993), 301–22; Daniel F. Kearns, “Bishop John
England and the Possibilities of Catholic Republicanism,” South Carolina Historical
Magazine 102, no. 1 (2001), 47–67; Joseph Kelley, “Charleston’s Bishop John England
and American Slavery,” New Hibernia Review, 5, no. 4 (2001), 48–56; David Gleeson,
The Irish in the South, 1815–1877 (Chapel Hill, 2001), pp. 74–93; Harvey Hill,
“American Catholicism?: John England and ‘The Republic in Danger,’” The Catholic
Historical Review, 89 (2003), 240–57; Michael O’Brien, Conjectures of Order:
Intellectual Life in the American South, 1810–1860, 2 vols. (Chapel Hill, 2004),
2:1083–95; Peter Clarke and James Lowell Underwood,“Bishop John England and the
Compatibility of the Catholic Church and American Democracy,” in The Dawn of
Religious Freedom in South Carolina, ed. James Lowell Underwood and W. Lewis
Burke (Columbia, 2006), pp. 184–210; and Lou F. McNeil, Recovering American
Catholic Inculturation: John England’s Jacksonian Populism and Romanticist
Adaptation (Lanham, MD, 2008).
7
See England’s 1828 speech to the Anti-Duelling Society of Charleston,“Address on
the Origin and History of the Duel,” in The Works of the Right Reverend John England,
ed. Sebastian G. Messmer, 7 vols. (Cleveland, 1908), 7:425–49.

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In 1843—a year after England’s death—Patrick Lynch, England’s
protégée and the future Catholic bishop of Charleston, and James
Henley Thornwell, the most influential Old School Presbyterian minister in the antebellum South, engaged in a strident, public religious
discussion of the Bible that also raised questions of Catholics’ adaptability to American culture. The controversy transcended theological
questions as it became an “affair of honor”—a common occurrence in
South Carolina political culture—in which both men sought public
approval for their positions and reputations.8 In their “paper warfare,”
they defended their positions within the community and denounced
each other as dishonorable.9 As ostensible outsiders in American society, Catholics had much at stake in the quarrel. If Lynch performed
honorably, Catholics would reassure the community that they did not
threaten Southern political culture and could be trusted.The incident
revealed that many Catholics in the Old South had accommodated
Southern culture well because they could cast their arguments in
both theological and secular terms as they made claims both to religious orthodoxy and regional loyalty.
***
Growing up in the same region of the state under related social circumstances and working as teachers, publishers, and religious ministers, Thornwell and Lynch shared a culture and similar experiences.
When the two men clashed, their commonalities became evident.
Even as their argument concerned the compatibility of Catholicism
with American culture, the mode of the exchange as an affair of honor
revealed common cultural values of Southern Catholics and
Protestants.
Thornwell rose to prominence from a low social status. He was
born on December 9, 1812, in Marlboro District, South Carolina,
which lay on the North Carolina line east of Lancaster, South Carolina.
Thornwell’s English father worked as an overseer on a plantation and
died when his son was eight years old. Recognized as gifted, the sickly
Thornwell attended nearby Cheraw Academy and received financial
assistance from two prominent citizens in Cheraw. His patrons underwrote his tuition and expenses at South Carolina College, where he
8

The phrase is taken from the title of Freeman’s Affairs of Honor.
The editor of the United States Catholic Miscellany (Charleston, SC) refers to the
debate with Thornwell as “paper warfare”; see U.S. Catholic Miscellany,April 22, 1843,
22, no. 42, p. 334, and Freeman, Affairs of Honor, pp. 105–58.
9

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CATHOLICS AND SOUTHERN HONOR

matriculated in 1830 and 1831. An impressive student with an agile
mind, Thornwell studied fourteen hours a day. After graduation, he
taught briefly at the academy. Reading the Westminster Confession
one day, he experienced a conversion and decided to pursue the
Presbyterian ministry. After studying for a few months at Harvard’s
divinity school in 1834,Thornwell completed his education in South
Carolina. In May 1835 he was ordained as a minister and later that year
married Nancy White Witherspoon, daughter of a prominent citizen in
the upcountry town of Lancasterville.10
Ironically, Lynch’s early life paralleled Thornwell’s. Born on March
10, 1817, in County Monaghan, Ireland, Lynch immigrated to Cheraw
with his parents in 1819.The Lynches were the only Catholics in the
town.11 He attended Cheraw Academy, where he narrowly missed
having Thornwell as a classmate. In 1829 Lynch entered the newly
formed Seminary of St. John the Baptist in Charleston, studying with
Bishop John England. Like Thornwell, Lynch left South Carolina for part
of his education. England sent Lynch to Rome to the seminary of the
Sacred Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith. There, Lynch
excelled in his studies, especially in biblical languages. After his ordination in Rome on April 4, 1840, Lynch returned to South Carolina to
begin his clerical career.12
Thornwell enjoyed a prominent academic and clerical career. In
1837 he returned to South Carolina College to become the professor
10
See B. M. Palmer, The Life and Letters of James Henley Thornwell (Richmond,
1875; repr. Carlisle, PA, 1986); and James O. Farmer Jr., The Metaphysical Confederacy:
James Henley Thornwell and the Synthesis of Southern Values (Macon, GA, 1999), pp.
41–75.
11
See the letter in the United States Catholic Miscellany (Charleston, SC),April 12,
1845, 24, no. 39, p. 310. It gives information on the Lynch family.
12
Lynch’s biography is outlined by R. C. Madden, “Lynch, Patrick Neison,” in New
Catholic Encyclopedia, 2nd ed., 15 vols. (New York, 2003), 8:904. See also Richard C.
Madden, Catholics in South Carolina: A Record (Lanham, MD, 1985), pp. 64–99; David
C. R. Heisser,“Lynch, Patrick Neison,” in The Encyclopedia of the Irish in America, ed.
Michael Glazier (Notre Dame, 1999), pp. 546–47. Michael J. McNally, “Lynch, Patrick
Neison,” in American National Biography, ed. John A. Garraty and Mark C. Carnes, 24
vols. (New York, 1999), 14:169–70. See also the superb article by David C. R. Heisser,
“Bishop Lynch’s People: Slaveholding by a South Carolina Prelate,” South Carolina
Historical Magazine, 102 (2001), 238–62; and David C. R. Heisser, “Bishop Lynch’s
Civil War Pamphlet on Slavery,” The Catholic Historical Review, 84 (1998): 681–96.
Some information on Lynch can be found in Leo Francis Stock,“Catholic Participation
in the Diplomacy of the Southern Confederacy,” The Catholic Historical Review, 16
(1930), 1–18.

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461

FIGURE 1. James Henley Thornwell, from The Life and Letters of James
Henley Thornwell, ed. B. M. Palmer (Richmond, 1875), frontispiece.

of belles lettres and logic. After a brief tenure in 1840 as the minister
of the First Presbyterian Church of Columbia, South Carolina, he
became chaplain and the professor of sacred literature and the evidences of Christianity at South Carolina College. During the 1840s he
engaged in numerous religious controversies and became a founder
of the Southern Presbyterian Review in 1847. In May 1851 he left
South Carolina College to become pastor of Charleston’s Glebe
Street Presbyterian church. But this stint was brief. In December
1851 he accepted the presidency of the college and returned to
Columbia (see figure 1). After serving as president of South Carolina
College for four years, he became the professor of didactic and
polemic theology at Columbia Theological Seminary. In 1856 he
edited the Southern Quarterly Review, a significant organ of
Southern intellectuals. Although a long-time unionist in politics,
Thornwell accepted secession in 1860. In December 1861, he led the
Southern Presbyterians to form a separate General Assembly. When
Thornwell died at age forty-nine in August 1862, South Carolina lost
one of its most prominent intellectuals.13
13

See Palmer, Life and Letters; and Farmer, The Metaphysical Confederacy, pp.
41–76. Other information on Thornwell can be gleaned from the numerous articles

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CATHOLICS AND SOUTHERN HONOR

Although Thornwell enjoyed more prominence in South Carolina
due to his positions at South Carolina College, Lynch also built an
impressive record. Upon his return to Charleston in 1840, Lynch edited
the United States Catholic Miscellany and taught at the Seminary of St.
John the Baptist. Like Thornwell, Lynch’s involvement with publishing
and seminary education led him to apologetical writing. Between 1845
and 1847 Lynch served as pastor of St. Mary’s Church in Charleston. He
then became rector of both the cathedral and, until its closing in 1851,
the Seminary of St. John the Baptist. Lynch worked as an editor for the
publication of England’s papers, the most significant intellectual labor
of antebellum South Carolina Catholics. Between 1854 and 1857 Lynch
served as the administrator of the Diocese of Charleston. In March 1858
Archbishop Francis Patrick Kenrick of Philadelphia installed Lynch as
bishop of Charleston (see figure 2). Lynch, like Thornwell, embraced
secession in 1860. In 1864 the Confederate government appointed
Lynch as a special commissioner to the Vatican to gain the approval of
Pope Pius IX for the Confederacy. Lynch traveled to Rome, but the pope
believed that the Union would win and so did not receive him as an official representative of the Confederate States. Lynch returned to the
United States in August 1865.After the war he raised money to rebuild
his diocese. Between 1869 and 1870 he attended the First Vatican
Council. He died in 1882.14
The argument between Lynch and Thornwell revealed the intensification of nativist rhetoric by American Protestants in the 1830s and
1840s. Sparked by the success of the New York-based Protestant
Reformation Society, Protestants formed voluntary associations
published on his views of slavery such as the following: H. Shelton Smith,“The Church
and the Social Order in the Old South as Interpreted by James H. Thornwell,” Church
History, 7 (1938), 115–24; Jack P. Maddex Jr., “Proslavery Millennialism: Social
Eschatology in Antebellum Southern Calvinism,” American Quarterly, 31, no. 1 (1979),
46–62; Marilyn J.Westerkamp,“James Henley Thornwell, Pro-Slavery Spokesman within
a Calvinist Faith,” South Carolina Historical Magazine, 87 ( 1986), 49–64; Charles C.
Bishop, “The Pro-Slavery Argument Reconsidered: James Henley Thornwell, Millennial
Abolitionist,” South Carolina Historical Magazine, 73 (1972), 18–26; and William W.
Freehling, “James Henley Thornwell’s Mysterious Antislavery Moment,” Journal of
Southern History 57 (1991), 383–406. A sympathetic treatment of Thornwell’s theology can be found in Morton H. Smith, Studies in Southern Presbyterian Theology
(Phillipsburg, NJ, 1987), pp. 121–82.
14
See Madden,“Lynch, Patrick Neison”; Heisser,“Lynch, Patrick Neison”; and McNally,
“Lynch, Patrick Neison.” On Lynch’s 1864 diplomatic mission to Rome see David J.
Alvarez, “The Papacy in the Diplomacy of the American Civil War,” The Catholic
Historical Review, 69 (1983), 230, 233, 246–48.

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463

FIGURE 2. Patrick Lynch, bishop of Charleston, photo taken c. 1858–65.
Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, reproduction no. LCDIG-cwpbh-01787.

throughout the nation to disseminate anti-Catholic information. The
rhetoric varied in tone from serious theological disputation to vitriolic denunciation of the pope as the antichrist.The Presbyterians, as
historian Ray Allen Billington noted, showed the greatest enthusiasm
for the nativist campaign. During the 1830s the General Assembly of
the Presbyterians declared the existence of a “papal plot to subdue
the United States and stamp out Protestantism.”15 The General
Assembly informed seminaries to instruct all candidates in antiCatholic arguments. When Presbyterians divided into the Old School
and New School groups in 1837, some ministers believed that
15
Ray Allen Billington, The Protestant Crusade, 1800–1860 (New York, 1938; repr.,
Chicago, 1964), p. 173. See also Jenny Franchot, Roads to Rome: The Antebellum
Protestant Encounter with Catholicism (Berkeley, 1994); Jody Roy, Rhetorical
Campaigns of the Nineteenth-Century Anti-Catholics and Catholics in America
(Lewiston, NY, 2000), pp. 1–81; Philip Hamburger, The Separation of Church and State
(Cambridge, MA, 2002); and Robert Gorman, Catholic Apologetical Literature in the
United States, 1784–1858 (Washington, DC, 1939).

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CATHOLICS AND SOUTHERN HONOR

nativism could reunify the church. After the Old School General
Assembly declared in 1841 that Presbyterian ministers should “defend
the doctrines and principles of the Reformation, and … expose the
errors and superstitions of popery,” anti-Catholic sermons became an
annual tradition at gatherings of the General Assembly. Other
Protestant groups joined the nativist campaign, presenting a “united
front against Catholicism” in the United States.16
Thornwell’s friend, Robert J. Breckinridge, played a significant role
in the nativist campaign and often drew the attention of the United
States Catholic Miscellany during the 1830s. Born in Kentucky in
1800 as the son of Senator John Breckinridge, Breckinridge became a
Presbyterian minister and pastor of Baltimore’s Second Presbyterian
Church in November 1832 (see figure 3). An active polemicist on
social and theological issues, he was well known to readers of the
Miscellany. In 1833 Breckinridge debated John Hughes, the future
archbishop of New York, on Catholicism. The Miscellany carried
reports of the debate throughout 1833. Between 1835 and 1841
Breckinridge published a monthly journal, the Baltimore Religious
and Literary Magazine, primarily to attack Catholicism. Breckinridge
frequently spewed his venom at England, insinuating that the bishop
was an ignorant Irishman and drunkard.17 Breckinridge’s nativist
fervor landed him in court in 1840, charged by a Baltimore Catholic
with libel.The trial resulted in a hung jury, and the case was thrown
out. Breckinridge took the trial as a sign of growing Catholic influence
16
Billington, The Protestant Crusade, pp. 174, 175, 181. See also Ernest Trice
Thompson, The Presbyterians in the South, Vol. 1, 1607–1861 (Richmond, 1963), p.
457: “But it was Roman Catholicism which more than any other aroused the fears of
Presbyterians and other evangelicals, not only in the South but throughout the nation.”
17
A short account of Breckinridge can be found in J. E. P. Boulden, The Presbyterians
of Baltimore (Baltimore, 1875), pp. 47–51. For two of many references to Breckinridge
in the Miscellany, see U.S. Catholic Miscellany, February 16, 1833, 12, no. 33, p. 259; and
U.S. Catholic Miscellany, March 21, 1835, 14, no. 38, p. 299. Breckinridge’s journal, The
Spirit of the XIX Century, contained nativist and anti-Catholic articles in nearly every
issue. In 1843 Breckinridge conducted the ongoing series “Controversy with the
Domestic Chaplains of the Archbishop of Baltimore.” He also published articles attacking the theology of the Catholic Mass (Spirit, June 1843, pp. 335–38), the Irish politician Daniel O’Connell (Spirit,August 1843, pp. 430–35), and Catholics in Emmittsburg,
Maryland (Spirit, September 1843, pp. 511–12). The gist of his rhetoric can be ascertained from the following line: “… Romanism, the great device of Satan, who is the
father of lies, is like its author, utterly, fundamentally, and irrecoverably false” (Spirit,
September 1843, p. 511). Breckinridge cast aspersions at Bishop England in his book
Papism in the XIX Century, in the United States. Being, Select Contributions to the
Papal Controversy during 1835–40 (Baltimore, 1841), pp. 128–36, 159–60.

BY ADAM TATE

465

FIGURE 3. Robert Jefferson Breckinridge, c. 1855–65. Library of Congress,
Prints and Photographs Division, reproduction no. LC-DIG-cwpbh-02495.

and increased his nativist attacks. He looked, it seemed, to expand his
influence to England’s diocese.18
When Thornwell published anonymously the short anti-Catholic
essay “The Apocryphal Books” in 1841 at the request of Breckinridge,
he lent his efforts to the broader Presbyterian effort against
Catholicism. The Apocrypha, or what Catholics term the “DeuteroCanonical books,” are seven books included in the Catholic canon of
the Old Testament but not the Protestant version.19 In May 1841
Thornwell, on his way to Europe, stopped in Baltimore to visit
Breckinridge. Thornwell wrote to his wife on May 11, “Yesterday he
made me write another article to the Catholic priests, which will be
published in the next Visitor.”20 Thornwell departed for Europe, miss18

W. Jason Wallace, Catholics, Slaveholders, and the Dilemma of American
Evangelicalism, 1835–1860 (Notre Dame, 2010), p. 100.
19
For a brief description of the controversy, see two short reference articles:
“Apocrypha,” by Amy-Jill Levine, in Eerdmans Dictionary of the Bible, ed. David Noel
Freedman (Grand Rapids, 2000), pp. 73–75; and “Apocrypha, The” in The Oxford
Dictionary of the Christian Church, 3rd ed. rev., ed. F. L. Cross and E.A. Livingston (New
York, 2005), pp. 84–85.The disputed books are 1 and 2 Maccabees, Wisdom—parts of
the book of Tobit, Judith, Baruch, and Sirach.
20
James Henley Thornwell to Nancy Thornwell, May 11, 1841, in Palmer, Life and
Lettersl, p. 160.The Visitor was a periodical of the Presbyterian church.

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CATHOLICS AND SOUTHERN HONOR

ing the appearance of his piece in print. In February 1843
Breckinridge reprinted Thornwell’s essay in his new nativist paper, the
Spirit of the XIX Century. Again, the piece did not contain
Thornwell’s name. But on February 15, 1843, the Columbia, South
Carolina, newspaper The Southern Chronicle reprinted “The
Apocryphal Books,” this time attaching Thornwell’s name to the
piece.21 The Chronicle was a Whig Party paper edited by Samuel Weir,
a Presbyterian, and had sparred with Bishop England during the 1840
presidential campaign, reprinting charges that the bishop was using
his influence over Irish immigrants in the state to build a voting bloc
for Democrat Martin Van Buren. Primarily focused on politics, the
paper periodically engaged in anti-Catholic rhetoric.22 Thornwell,
writing to Breckinridge on March 28, 1843, commented that the
editor had done this “without informing me of his intention.”23 It is
likely that Breckinridge sent the essay to the Columbia paper. The
Charleston Observer, a frequent opponent of the Miscellany, picked
up the article as well.24 Its editor, Rev. Benjamin Gildersleeve, who had
long argued with and attacked Charleston Catholics in his paper,
wrote Thornwell in March 1843 that a “servant of the Beast has been
wounded by your expose of the Apocrypha.” He told Thornwell that
he would run the article in his paper the following week.25 The iden21
Palmer, Life and Letters, p. 245; U.S. Catholic Miscellany, March 18, 1843, 22, no.
37, pp. 291, 295.
22
Southern Chronicle (Columbia, SC), December 3, 1840, 1, no. 23. This issue
reprinted an attack on Bishop England by Duff Green. The Southern Chronicle of
November 17, 1841 (vol. 2, no. 20) contained an editorial, reprinted from the
Charleston Observer, telling Protestant parents that they should not send their children
to Catholic schools.The Southern Chronicle of December 1, 1841 (vol. 2, no. 22) also
contains a nativist comment about nuns.The Southern Chronicle of January 26, 1842
(vol. 2, no. 30) contains a humorous story about a fictitious Irish priest milking his
impoverished congregation of their money. Unfortunately, the issues of the Southern
Chronicle from January 1843 to June 1844 do not seem to have survived. Numerous
archives have been checked to confirm this assertion.
23
Thornwell to Robert Breckinridge, March 28, 1843, Life and Letters, p. 245.
Breckinridge gives his version of the controversy in the article “Short Notices of Books
and Pamphlets,” in Spirit of the XIX Century, June 1843, 2, no. 6, p. 366.
24
The Miscellany and the Observer frequently sparred. For a few examples, see U.S.
Catholic Miscellany, November 15, 1828, 8, no. 19, p. 150; September 29, 1832, 12, no.
13, p. 102;April 26, 1834, 13, no. 43, p. 342; September 27, 1834, 14, no. 13, p. 102.
25
Decatur, GA, C. Benton Kline Jr. Special Collections and Archives (hereafter
referred to as Kline), John Bulow Campbell Library, Columbia Theological Seminary,
Gildersleeve to Thornwell, March 28, 1843, Thornwell Papers, Box 1, folder 33. This
letter is a photocopy of the original that is in the South Caroliniana Library, Columbia,
South Carolina. Deborah Reeves Hopkins provides some brief information of

BY ADAM TATE

467

tification of Thornwell, a professor at South Carolina College, as
author of the piece obviously was meant to lend authority and credibility to the essay.The Presbyterians thus signaled that they were escalating the nativist campaign in South Carolina.
Thornwell’s article attacking the Apocrypha was an invective
against Catholic claims to religious authority. He began:
In nothing is the intolerable arrogance of the Church of Rome more strikingly displayed than in the authority which, if she does not formally claim,
she yet pretends to exercise, of dispensing the Holy Ghost not merely to
men themselves, but also to their writings.26

Thornwell then noted,“Having by its own authority constituted these
books a part of the Word of God, the Holy Council [of Trent] proceeded to pronounce its usual malediction upon all who would not
receive them as sacred and canonical.”27 He insisted that Catholics
bore the burden of proof to establish the inspiration of the
Apocrypha, but he would show, so as to expose “in a stronger light the
arrogance and blasphemy of Rome …[,] that these books have not the
shadow of a claim to Divine inspiration.”28
Thornwell levied three arguments against the inclusion of the
Apocrypha in the canon of scripture. First, citing the German
Protestant theologian Sebastian Schmidius as well as the testimony of
early Christian writers, he argued that the books of the Apocrypha
were not in the canon of the Jews as the time of Jesus. Because Jesus
did not condemn the Jews for removing inspired books from their
canon, his silence affirmed an Old Testament free from the
Apocrypha. Thornwell also mentioned that scholars doubted
“whether some of them [the Apocryphal books] existed at all until
some time after the last of the Apostles” had died.29 Second,Thornwell

Gildersleeve in “Basil Lanneau Gildersleeve: The Charleston Background,” in Basil
Lanneau Gildersleeve: An American Classicist, ed. Ward W. Briggs Jr. and Herbert W.
Benario (Baltimore, 1986), pp. 1–8. Ward W. Briggs Jr., Introduction, in Soldier and
Scholar: Basil Lanneau Gildersleeve and the Civil War (Charlottesville, 1998), pp.
1–23, here pp. 2–3. Basil Lanneau Gildersleeve, the famous South Carolina classicist, was
the son of Benjamin Gildersleeve.
26
The Collected Writings of James Henley Thornwell, ed. B. M. Palmer, 4 vols. (repr.
Carlisle, PA, 1986), 3:745.
27
Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:745.
28
Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:746.
29
Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:746.

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CATHOLICS AND SOUTHERN HONOR

turned to history. He noted that “for four centuries the unbroken testimony of the Christian Church is against their inspiration.” He
pointed out that St. Jerome did not want to include the Apocrypha in
the Vulgate bible and mentioned that the books did not appear in several catalogs of inspired books listed by early Christian writers such
as Origen, St.Athanasius, and St. Cyril of Jerusalem.30 Third,Thornwell
insisted that the books lacked the spiritual characteristics of inspired
works. He wrote:
To say nothing of their silly and ridiculous stories, these books notoriously
contain palpable lies, gross anachronisms, flat contradictions, and doctrinal
statements wholly irreconcilable with what we are taught in the unquestioned Oracles of God. Such things are totally inconsistent with the idea of
inspiration.31

He charged further that the only people foolish enough to “attribute”
the Apocrypha to God were “those whose credulity is enormous
enough to swallow down the nonsense and blasphemy of transubstantiation,” the Catholic doctrine of the Eucharist.32
The article contained numerous denunciations of Catholics and
the Catholic position. “Despising the authority of Popes and
Councils,” he thundered, “we bring the matter to the bar of sober
reason and sound argument; and we challenge Rome to vindicate herself from the charge of intolerable arrogance, and blasphemy in her
corrupt additions to the Word of God.” He concluded by charging,
“Rome may denounce her anathema against us, but we know full well
that the terrible malediction of God rests upon her.” He challenged
Catholics to “come up manfully to the point of inspiration,” which, he
noted, was “the issue between us.”33 The invective against Catholics
combined with his own position as a professor of religion made
Thornwell’s polemic a certain target for Catholic controversialists.
On March 18, 1843, South Carolina Catholics witnessed a vigorous
response to Thornwell’s claims in the pages of the United States
Catholic Miscellany from Patrick Lynch, publishing under the pseudonym “A.P.F.”34 First, the Miscellany republished Thornwell’s article.
30

Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:748–49.
Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:750.
32
Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:751.
33
Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:752, emphasis in original.
34
The letters appear in the following issues of the U.S. Catholic Miscellany:“Letter
I,” March 18, 1843, 22, no. 37, pp. 291–95; “Letter II,” March 25, 1843, 22, no. 38, pp.
31

BY ADAM TATE

469

Lynch responded with the first of thirteen letters attacking
Thornwell’s position.The pieces ran regularly until May 20, 1843, with
a three-week hiatus for Holy Week and the Easter celebration after the
fourth letter.
Lynch began his rejoinder by objecting to Thornwell’s strident tone
and accusing him of hypocrisy, a sure tactic to transform the exchange
into a paper war. Lynch opposed the “vulgar epithets” such as “Papist,
Romanist, and such manifestations of the ill-feeling as the expressions vassals of Rome and captives to the car of Rome,” which simply
insulted Catholics. Lynch chastised Thornwell:
Believe me, reverend sir, such invectives contain no argument. They are
unbecoming the subject, and—may I presume to add?—the dignified station you occupy.” He continued:“Catholics are neither outcasts from society nor devoid of feeling; they are neither insensible to, nor think they
deserve, such words of opprobrium. … [I]t is painful to see a Professor
descending from calm, gentlemanly and enlightened argument to mingle
with the crowd of those whose weapons are misrepresentations and
abuse.35

Lynch agreed with Thornwell that the issue of inspiration was an
important division between Catholics and Protestants. He clarified,
however, that Catholics did not claim, as Thornwell charged, to
bestow inspiration on any book but instead to recognize books that
were inspired. Lynch mentioned that Protestants like Thornwell relied
on individual private judgment to establish the inspiration of the biblical books.This meant that Thornwell had no grounds to condemn a

299–303;“Letter III,”April 1, 1843, 22, no. 39, pp., 308–10;“Letter IV,”April 8, 1843, 22,
no. 40, pp. 316–18; “Letter V,” April 29, 1843, 22, no. 43, pp. 340–42; “Letter VI,” May 6,
1843, 22, no. 44, p. 349;“Letter VII,” May 13, 1843, 22, no. 45, pp. 355–57;“Letter VIII,”
May 20, 1843, 22, no. 46, pp. 364–65; “Letter IX,” October 14, 1843, 23, no. 15, p. 113;
“Letter X,” October 28, 1843, 23, no. 17, pp. 129–30;“Letter XI,” November 25, 1843, 23,
no. 21, pp., 164–65;“Letter XII,” June 8, 1844, 23, no. 49, pp. 388–89; and “Letter XIII,”
June 22, 1844, 23, no. 51, pp. 404–05. In the editorial comments in the Miscellany on
May 13, 1843 (22, no. 45, p. 358), the editor acknowledged that Thornwell knew the
identity of A.P.F. Thus, when Thornwell wrote in his letters that his opponent was Dr.
Lynch, we can be certain of the identity of A.P.F. The initials “A.P.F.” could stand for “A
Priest Forever.”
35
Quotations are from A.P.F.’s first letter to Thornwell from Palmer, ed., Collected
Writings 3:753, emphasis in original. This volume is more accessible than the
Miscellany. The Collected Writings, however, only reprinted the first three letters of
A.P.F. in the appendix. For the appeal to reason, see David J. O’Brien, Public
Catholicism, 2nd ed. (Maryknoll, NY, 1996), 1–33.

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CATHOLICS AND SOUTHERN HONOR

group of Catholic individuals at the Council of Trent for exercising the
exact powers Thornwell claimed for himself. In other words,
Thornwell was simply a bigot, objecting not to private judgment but
to Catholics.36
Lynch then turned to Thornwell’s arguments, devoting the
remainder of his first letter to establishing the rationale behind the
Catholic argument for the necessity of ecclesiastical authority to
establish the canon of scripture. “We cannot be called on to
believe,” he began, “any proposition not sustained by adequate
proof.”The “proof of inspiration,” he added,“must be one which will
strike the understanding of the wandering Indian and the unlettered
negro slave as clearly and as cogently as that of the enlightened professor.”37 Lynch then provided four possibilities for establishing
inspiration. First, he set forth Thornwell’s own assumption that
every individual must examine the argument for and against the
books whose inspiration was questioned so that the issue could be
decided. One could appeal to either “external” or “internal” evidence; either a “sufficient mass of testimony to establish the fact or
facts that God did” inspire writers, or the internal “perfection of the
Scriptures” to discern if “they were above the power of unaided
men.”38 Lynch noted that to do so, the individual would have to learn
the biblical languages, other ancient languages (to be capable of
reading early manuscripts), ancient cultures, and critical methods.
He concluded that this would be impossible for the “OVERWHELMING MAJORITY” of Christians to achieve and thus “CANNOT be the
method appointed by Almighty God” to learn about the inspiration
of the Bible.39 Thornwell’s method thus fails.
Lynch’s second and third possibilities dealt with problems of
scholarship and evidence. To establish inspiration, one could rely on
the judgment of scholars.This approach, Lynch intimated, was the one
taken by most Protestants, probably even Thornwell’s own congregation. But, Lynch pointed out, acquaintance with the world of scholarship revealed that scholars often did not agree and that the reputations of scholars shifted over time as more was learned and previous
assumptions discredited.This approach failed as well. A third scenario
36

Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:755.
Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:760, 761.
38
Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:762.
39
Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:764, emphasis in original.
37

BY ADAM TATE

471

posited that one could learn about inspiration from “some individual
whom God commissioned to announce this fact to the world.”40 But
Lynch noted that this approach confronted a lack of evidence. Neither
Jesus nor his apostles left a “Canon or catalogue of inspired works.”41
Even the Jewish Canon was problematic. Scholars agreed that “before
the coming of Christ, Esdras is said to have established a Canon for the
use of the Jewish nation.” But scholars did not agree on what authority he acted or whether the Apocrypha was originally in the canon
selected by Esdras. Unclear evidence did not provide “unequivocal testimony” for the inspired books.42
Lynch provided the Catholic approach as his fourth possibility.The
individual could learn about inspiration from a body of individuals “to
whom, in their collective capacity, God has given authority to make an
unerring decision on this subject.”43 Lynch posited a hypothetical
Christian convert who—through reading the scriptures as historical,
rather than inspired, books—discovered the idea of apostolic succession and then through faith, an act of trust in God’s own veracity,
accepted the authority of the Church as the arbiter of the canon of
scripture. Lynch depicted this as a reasonable approach. He concluded that the Catholic answer is not “repugnant to the nature of religion, for all true religion is based on submission of the understanding
and the will to God when He speaks to us Himself—to His authorized
delegates when through them He deigns to teach.”44 The Catholic
method was “both practicable in the ordinary condition of the
Christian world, and efficient.”45 The Protestant alternative to the
authority of the Church, Lynch warned, would produce chaos and
unbelief.
Lynch’s second letter to Thornwell accused him of being unscholarly. He dwelt at length on Thornwell’s first argument that Jesus’s
silence on the Jewish canon meant that he accepted the Apocrypha
was not inspired. Lynch, citing the Talmud, dove into Jewish theories
of inspiration. Thornwell had “assumed, without any proof, that the
Jews rejected as uninspired, mere human productions, all books not
contained in their Canon.” But the Talmud contradicted this by listing
40

Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:761.
Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:765.
42
Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:766.
43
Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:761.
44
Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:769.
45
Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:770.
41

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CATHOLICS AND SOUTHERN HONOR

the book of Sirach, one of the apocryphal books, as inspired. Lynch
insisted that Thornwell’s argument from silence was extremely weak.
The Sadducees and Samaritans, he wrote, rejected “as uninspired” all
books “except the Pentateuch,” yet no record exists of Jesus or the
apostles, who interacted with these groups, condemning them for this
position.46 Lynch then listed sixteen passages from the New
Testament that closely paraphrased passages from the Apocrypha,
plausible evidence both that New Testament writers considered the
Apocrypha as authoritative and that it probably had not been produced after the death of the Apostles. He cited both the early
Christian writer Origen and Brian Walton, an English Protestant biblical scholar from the seventeenth century, in support of the idea that
the Apocrypha preceded Jesus’s lifetime and that Hellenistic Jews
transmitted it to the early Christians.The evidence questioned, Lynch
believed,Thornwell’s claims and scholarship.47
Stung by the first two letters attacking his position, Thornwell
wrote to Breckinridge on March 28, “I have got into a war with the
Romanists.” Near the end of the letter he made a startling admission
to his friend:
Still, my brother, I am not ashamed to confess to you that I feel weak. I am
badly prepared for this contest. In the first place, all Columbia does not furnish a library adequate to the exigencies of a full complete controversy
with Rome. In the second place, I have not studied this matter as accurately as I should have done. My attention has been turned more to doctrine, logical exposition of truth, to philosophy, and studies of an abstract
nature, than to minuteness of historical details.48

In other words, he had not expected a reasoned attack on his article.
Lynch’s third letter, and most of his subsequent letters on the subject, attacked Thornwell’s claim that during the first four centuries no
Christian writers accepted the Apocrypha as inspired. Demonstrating
his knowledge of the patristic era, Lynch marshaled quotations from
Christians writing before the Council of Nicea (325) that appealed to
passages in the Apocrypha. In addition, Lynch revealed his understanding of biblical and ancient languages in analyzing passages from
the Apocrypha to reveal that they had been written in either Hebrew
46

Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:781, 782. Emphasis in original.
Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:772–91.
48
Palmer, Life and Letters, p. 246.
47

BY ADAM TATE

473

or Chaldaic and later translated into Greek. He used this fact to deny
claims that the Apocrypha had been produced after the death of
Jesus. His grasp of patristic writings and biblical scholarship made
him a formidable adversary for Thornwell.49
Thornwell did respond to Lynch’s letters, although the controversy
did not proceed as a point-by-point debate over the merits of each
man’s argument.The editor of the Chronicle gave Thornwell space to
write, but refused to reprint Lynch’s letters.The result was a running
polemic by Thornwell that he later collected into a book and published in 1845. His language was extreme. He proclaimed:
Consistency cannot be expected from the advocates of a black and
bloody superstition which sprang from the father of lies, whose appropriate element is darkness, and whose legitimate effect upon the life is to
form a character homogeneous in nothing but implacable enmity to
God.50

He also declared the Catholic Church to be the antichrist:
It is the impression of Divine authority that conceals from your parasites
the hideous proportions of the Papal fabric; it is this which throws a
charm of solemnity around it, and renders that awful and venerable which
seen in its true light would at once be pronounced the temple of
Antichrist.51

Thornwell’s rhetoric placed Catholics outside of respectable community, designating them as parasites in league with the devil. He told
Breckinridge:
We need a controversy here.The Papists have almost taken possession of
Charleston; and among the leading men in the State, the dreadful apathy
on the subject of religion, which they too much manifest, turns all their
sympathies in favour of the Papists.

Thornwell, like other Southerners, recognized that the increase of
immigrants in urban areas such as Charleston could alter political pat49

Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:791–801.
Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:462.Thornwell admitted in an 1845 letter that his
book was not selling well. See Thornwell to Rev. Drury Lacy of Raleigh, NC, January 11,
1845:“How can I get a few of my books on Popery to Raleigh? It is out, but has a poor
sale.”Thornwell Papers, Box 2, Folder 142, Kline.
51
Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:476.
50

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CATHOLICS AND SOUTHERN HONOR

terns in the state.52 For Thornwell, Catholics could not become members of the community. By preaching their exclusion from society,
Thornwell made the fracas about reputation and Catholic compatibility with American political ideals, not theology. To respond to the
charges, Catholics had to defend themselves publicly. The debate
became an affair of honor.
Lynch’s responses defended both the reputation of Catholics and
Catholic doctrine. First, he wrote in a moderate tone that appealed to
reason, not passion.The republican political culture of South Carolina
celebrated reasoned approaches. Republicans perceived a man of
great passion as immoderate, disordered, and a danger to liberty. Lynch
charged that Thornwell was immoderate in his language and was thus
unreasonable. Second, Lynch and the editor of the Miscellany
appealed to fairness.The editor of the Miscellany pointed out that the
paper had published Thornwell’s essay alongside Lynch’s first letter.
“We did not fear,” he wrote, “to let our Catholic readers see them in
juxtaposition, fore-knowing to whose credit the comparison would
redound.”53 By refusing to show fear, Lynch and the editor of the
Miscellany proved their veracity and courage to the community.
Participating calmly in the paper war buttressed Catholic claims of
compatibility with American politics.The editor pointed out that the
52

Thornwell to Robert Breckinridge, March 28, 1843, in Palmer, Life and Letters, pp.
245–46.Thornwell’s concerns are made clear in Dennis C. Rousey,“Aliens in the WASP
Nest: Ethnocultural Diversity in the Antebellum Urban South,” Journal of American
History, 79 (1992), 152–64, esp. 158–59. Rousey comments,“The surprising numbers of
northerners and foreigners who helped give diversity to southern cities were paralleled
by remarkable concentrations of nonevangelicals, including a large proportion of
Roman Catholics” (p. 158). See also Randall M. Miller,“The Enemy Within: Some Effects
of Foreign Immigrants on Antebellum Southern Cities,” Southern Studies, 24 (1985),
30–53. Miller writes,“New city dwellers, a majority of whom were foreign-born, created
new social conditions to accommodate their needs, as they also fostered values at war
with the countryside” (p. 31).
53
U.S. Catholic Miscellany, May 6, 1843, 22, no. 44, p. 350. On the Southern Catholic
clergy’s appeal to reason, see E. Brooks Holifield, The Gentlemen Theologians:American
Theology in Southern Culture, 1795–1860 (Durham, 1978), pp. 101–09. On South
Carolina political culture see the following works, which offer varying perspectives:
William W. Freehling, Prelude to Civil War: The Nullification Controversy in South
Carolina, 1816–1836 (New York, 1965); Walter Edgar, South Carolina, a History
(Columbia, 1998); Lacy K. Ford, Origins of Southern Radicalism: The South Carolina
Upcountry, 1800–1860 (New York, 1988); Manisha Sinha, The Counterrevolution of
Slavery (Chapel Hill, 2000); John Barnwell, Love of Order: South Carolina’s First
Secession Crisis (Chapel Hill, 1982); and David Smiley, “Revolutionary Origins of the
South’s Constitutional Defenses,” North Carolina Historical Review, 44 (1967), 256–69.

BY ADAM TATE

475

Southern Chronicle had refused to print Lynch’s letters, proving that
the Protestant side was both scared and dishonorable.
The attack on reputation gave the controversy its vigor. In the April
29, 1843, issue of the Miscellany, the editor noted the number of positive responses received regarding Lynch’s pieces. He cited an
unnamed “distinguished professional gentleman of this city (a
Protestant)” who had professed that Lynch had bested Thornwell.The
editor appealed directly to public reputation, the court of appeal in an
affair of honor. In the face of his poor performance in the debate,
Thornwell, the editor of the Miscellany claimed, was “scuffling to
escape from his location; whilst his confederates essay to cover his
confusion.”54 On the editorial page of the April 22, 1843, issue, the
Miscellany declared of Thornwell, “… [T]his gentle-man is not as
potent as he is ireful.”55 The controversy spread. The Catholic
Telegraph, a Cincinnati paper, picked up at least two of the A.P.F. letters.56 Breckinridge, who can reasonably be fingered as the provocateur of the whole debate, dubiously claimed in his paper that
Catholics in Charleston were running scared.57
Thornwell and the Protestant papers reporting the battle
responded quickly to the public attacks on their reputations. Lynch, by
addressing his letters to Thornwell and indicating his position as a professor at the public South Carolina College, had challenged his reputation. In a letter to Breckinridge,Thornwell commented on the attack:
There was much craft, however, in their seizing upon me as their object of
assault.They, no doubt, supposed that my public position, as an officer of
the State, would, in some measure, muzzle me; they presumed that I would
feel a delicacy in exposing freely the enormities of any portion of the citizens, whose taxes go to my support; or that, if I did not act from these selfish considerations, they would raise a clamour against me in the community, which would compel me to retire from the College.

With his honor as well as his job at stake, Thornwell assured
Breckinridge, “I shall accept the challenge.”58 The editor of the
54

U.S. Catholic Miscellany,April 29, 1843, 22, no. 43, p. 342.
U.S. Catholic Miscellany,April 22, 1843, 22, no. 42, p. 334, emphasis in original.
56
The Catholic Telegraph [Cincinnati, OH], May 12, 1843, 12, no. 21, p. 161; The
Catholic Telegraph, November 11, 1843, 12, no. 45, p. 353.
57
“Short Notices of Books and Pamphlets,” in Spirit of the XIX Century, June 1843,
2, no. 6, p. 366.
58
Thornwell to Breckinridge, March 28, 1843, in Palmer, Life and Letters, p. 245.
55

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CATHOLICS AND SOUTHERN HONOR

Observer, perceiving the danger of Lynch’s charges, accused Lynch of
engaging in the “argumentum ad invidiam.”59 The Protestants realized that Lynch had implied that Thornwell, far from being a disinterested professor seeking knowledge, was actually a dishonest bigot.
The controversy then focused on anonymity and pseudonyms.60
Originally,Thornwell had not signed the essay on the Apocrypha.The
Protestant editor of the Chronicle disclosed Thornwell’s authorship of
the piece when he reprinted it. Thornwell had not intended for his
name to be revealed, and thus Lynch’s questioning of his public reputation was unexpected. In response, the Protestant papers raised a
fuss about the anonymity of Lynch’s letters to the Miscellany. It was
their position that writing under the initials “A.P.F.” was cowardly.
Hiding in anonymity via unsigned editorials that attacked the reputation of another, the Protestants charged, was not worthy of a man of
honor.As the editor of the Observer put it,“[A]n anonymous writer is
not entitled to the same courtesy as one who enters the arena
unmasked.”61
The Observer’s use of the term unmasked indicated an important
aspect of honor culture. Historian Kenneth Greenberg has written
that men of honor claimed the power to define their public identities and expected their claims to be taken at face value. If someone
questioned a gentleman’s identity and exposed him as a fraud, the
man of honor suffered the humiliation of being unmasked—
revealed—by another. “The man of honor,” Greenberg writes, “was
the man who had the power to prevent his being unmasked.”62 When
Lynch questioned Thornwell’s reputation as a disinterested professor,
he threatened to unmask him. The Protestants then focused on the
anonymity of the A.P.F. letters, seeking to reveal Lynch’s identity and
thereby humiliate him.
The Catholics defended anonymous writings under certain circumstances. The editor of the Miscellany explained in the April 22,
1843, edition that the Southern Chronicle had justified its decision
59

Quoted in U.S. Catholic Miscellany, May 6, 1843, 22, no. 44, p. 350.
The editor of the Miscellany makes this very point in the editorial on April 22,
1843, 22, no. 42, p. 334. Of course, Breckinridge seemed to have a hand in all of this as
well.
61
The Observer is quoted in U.S. Catholic Miscellany, April 22, 1843, 22, no. 42, p.
334.
62
Kenneth Greenberg, Honor and Slavery (Princeton, 1996), p. 25.
60

BY ADAM TATE

477

not to publish Lynch’s letters by insisting that they contained “doubtful statements” that had been written under a pseudonym and thus
lacked a “responsible name.” In the Chronicle’s view, the public would
be unable to judge the veracity of Lynch’s missives because they
lacked knowledge of the author’s honor. The Miscellany responded
by defending the use of pseudonyms in certain cases as honorable:
“This rule is properly enforced only when the ‘doubtful statements’
relate to living characters, or passing occurrences; not when they
refer to questions of literature, of criticism, or to historical personages
or events.”63 The Catholic proponents appealed to reason and insisted
that their defense of Catholic doctrine was not a personal attack on
Thornwell, although the implications of the debate in the context of
the culture of honor suggested otherwise.64
By early May, the Protestant press discovered that Lynch was
indeed the author of the letters against Thornwell’s piece. They
charged Lynch with duplicity.The Miscellany responded in its May 13
editorial:
A.P.F. has conducted his review with perfect good-breeding, yet he has
unluckily neglected to allude in the remotest manner to the Editor of
the Observer. For this slight, or perhaps for the almost equally grave
offence of having cornered a Professor, the Observer has repeatedly
referred to him derogatorily; and, ALTHOUGH KNOWING WHO HE IS,
has shamelessly insinuated, that A.P.F. trumpets his own praises in the
editorial department of the Miscellany. An imputation too mean to
require repudiation!65

63
U.S. Catholic Miscellany, April 22, 1843, 22, no. 42, p. 334. Founded in 1843, The
Christian Magazine of the South—another Columbia-based Protestant paper that frequently included nativist, anti-Catholic articles—addressed anonymity and polemical
writing in its June 1843 edition.The article did not refer directly to the Thornwell-Lynch
controversy, but its comments were probably a response to this debate.The editor supported the use of pseudonyms as long as the editor knew the identity of the writer. See
the article “Signatures,” June 1843, 1, no. 6, pp. 169–70.
64
The editor of the Miscellany vigorously defended anonymity in the editorial
“Anonymous Writers,”April 29, 1843, 22, no. 43, p. 342.
65
U.S. Catholic Miscellany, May 13, 1843, 22, no. 45, p. 358, emphasis in original. See
also U.S. Catholic Miscellany, May 27, 1843, 22, no. 47, p. 374. The termination of the
A.P.F. letters is interesting.The last letter ran in June 22, 1844, edition of the Miscellany.
In the next edition, June 29, 1844, 23, no. 52, the paper announced that Lynch would
become the editor of the paper (p. 415). The A.P.F. letters, which had been published
erratically, stopped at this point. It seems as if Lynch did not want to claim the letters
publicly and would have been forced to do so, as his name was now to appear as the
editor of the Miscellany.

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CATHOLICS AND SOUTHERN HONOR

The editorial writer noted that a number of men edited the
Miscellany. Lynch was an honorable man who would not stoop to the
deception of writing the A.P.F. essays and commenting on them
approvingly as editor. The Protestant side revealed its power by
unmasking Lynch, a tactic adopted by Thornwell when he published
his responses to the A.P.F. letters in book form in 1845. Thornwell
wrote of his essay in the preface of the book:
Seeing it printed under my name, and, as he might naturally suppose, by
my authority, Dr. Lynch, a Roman Catholic Priest of Charleston, of reputed
cleverness and learning, no doubt regarded it as an indirect challenge to
the friends of Rome to vindicate their Mistress from the severe charges
which were brought against her.66

By publicly unmasking Lynch in print,Thornwell revealed his power
over his adversary. He also worked in a jab at Lynch, in his references
to Lynch’s “reputed cleverness” who served his “Mistress,” the Whore
of Babylon.
The paper war had ended. Both sides declared victory. From a religious point of view, neither side won. After all, neither Thornwell nor
Lynch became convinced of the truth of his opponent’s position. In fact,
neither side seriously engaged the points of the other as would occur in
a debate. The majority of Lynch’s theological responses to Thornwell’s
“Apocrypha” article came after the paper war had ended.Thornwell did
not directly reply to Lynch’s later A.P.F. letters. His 1845 anti-Catholic
book, produced from the paper war, lapsed into nativist polemics.
The fact that both parties could posture as victors reveals the
ambiguity of the culture of honor. Greenberg, although recognizing
the importance of honor to Southern political culture, has noted,“An
ethic that is seen as so pervasive among so many different people
begins to lose its power as an explanatory construct.” Greenberg has
noted that the concept of honor in the nineteenth century often was
imprecise, and thus it could become for historians “an empty vessel
into which one might pour any content.”67 But one of the advantages
for antebellum Catholics of using honor language in public discourse
was the concept’s flexibility. Because the public’s perception of indi66

Palmer, ed., Collected Writings, 3:280.
Kenneth S. Greenberg, Review of The Shaping of Southern Culture: Honor, Grace,
and War, 1760s–1890s, by Bertram Wyatt-Brown, American Historical Review, 107
(2002), 1226–27, here 1227.
67

BY ADAM TATE

479

vidual reputation determined honor, a single, exclusive set of ethical
rules did not always apply. Whereas some means of attaining honor
(such as dueling) came under attack during the antebellum period as
public opinion shifted, other means (such as public argument and
paper wars) thrived in the burgeoning print culture of the early
Republic. Catholics could use honor language in a different context—
for example, religious controversy—and thus appeal to public opinion for confirmation of their status as reputable fellow citizens. In
short, by using the tool of Southern honor, Catholics could demonstrate their compatibility with Southern political culture while
defending their religious beliefs.68
Indeed, their affair of honor contributed to the public reputations
of both men. Thornwell went on to prominence in the state as the
leading voice of Old School Presbyterianism. He continued his nativist
rhetoric, preaching numerous sermons against Catholicism and joining the nativist Know Nothing Party in the 1850s. Lynch had demonstrated that South Carolina Catholics were quite comfortable in South
Carolina culture. Catholics could provide reasoned answers to
Protestant objections and could deliver them within the strictures of
honor culture.This meant that passionate nativist polemics would be
considered inappropriate and attacked vigorously in the public
sphere. As historians have shown, by the 1850s prominent Southern
politicians and intellectuals publicly defended the political loyalties of
Catholics from nativist attacks.69 Contra Jefferson, Catholic immigrants in the South had adapted well to American political culture.70
Lynch’s performance reiterated the honor of Southern Catholics.

68
Other historians have noticed this same behavior in different regional contexts.
See, for example, Edith Jeffrey,“Reform, Renewal, and Vindication: Irish Immigrants and
the Catholic Total Abstinence Movement in Antebellum Philadelphia,” Pennsylvania
Magazine of History and Biography, 112 (1988), 407–31.
69
See Wallace, Catholics, Slaveholders, and the Dilemma of American
Evangelicalism, 1835–1860, p. 95; and Stern,“Southern Harmony,” pp. 165–90.
70
Tellingly, after Breckinridge left the Second Presbyterian Church of Baltimore, the
members of the church wrote Thornwell to offer him the pastorship.Thornwell Papers,
Box 2, Folder 118, Kline.The Miscellany, under England’s direction, often commented
on the political activism of the Irish in the United States and their embrace of republican government. In other words, the Irish were hardly bringing a spirit of political absolutism into American politics. U. S. Catholic Miscellany,August 3, 1825, 5, no. 5, p. 79.

DER VOLKSVEREIN DEUTSCH-CANADISCHER
KATHOLIKEN:
THE RISE AND FALL OF A
GERMAN-CATHOLIC CULTURAL AND
IMMIGRATION SOCIETY, 1909–52
BY

GRANT GRAMS*

Founded in 1909, Der Volksverein deutsch-canadischer Katholiken
(Association of German-Canadian Catholics, or VDCK) was one of
the largest German-Canadian religious societies in Canada. The
VDCK was involved in German immigration and cultural movements in Canada, with its most productive period from 1909 until
the depression. Although the VDCK’s work continued during the
1930s, immigration had ended, and many Canadians were suspicious of German cultural organizations due to the Nazi movement
in Europe. Canadian society became increasingly secularized in the
postwar era, and a decline in interest in rural settlement led to the
VDCK’s dissolution in 1952.
Keywords: Canadian Catholic organizations; Canadian immigration;
German Catholic organizations; German culture; German emigration
Der Volksverein deutsch-canadischer Katholiken (Association of
German-Canadian Catholics, or VDCK) was formed on July 14–15,
1909, intending “to coordinate German-Canadian Catholics in order to
protect those rights that can only be safeguarded through being
organized.” Eventually becoming one of the largest German-Canadian
religious societies, the VDCK intended to preserve the language, culture, and religion of German Catholics through establishing and maintaining German-speaking settlements.
The VDCK wanted to influence important members of society,
businessmen, and district and farm leaders through networking at
*Dr. Grams is an instructor in history in the Faculty of Arts at Concordia University
College of Alberta in Edmonton, Canada, email grant.grams@concordia.ab.ca.

480

BY GRANT GRAMS

481

local gatherings and advancing Catholic ideals.VDCK members were
to provide solutions to social problems while supporting humanity
through Catholicism.1 The VDCK made steady progress toward its
goals until World War I curtailed its agenda.
Partners in its endeavors included six German-language newspapers such as the German-Catholic newspapers St. Peter’s Bote
(Muenster, Saskatchewan) and Westkanada (Winnipeg, Manitoba). In
addition, the Canadian Pacific Railway (CPR) worked with VDCK to
settle German speakers in western Canada. The group attempted to
work with the CPR and the Canadian National Railway (CNR), but
rivalry between the two railway companies put an end to this cooperation in May 1928.The Saint Raphael’s Society for the Protection of
German-Catholic Emigrants also worked with the VDCK.
During the interwar period, the German government was skeptical
of the VDCK’s work, casting the VDCK’s motives as financial rather
than altruistic, regarding any affiliation between railway companies
and religious-based immigration boards with suspicion, and believing
that the VDCK had CPR backing (the VDCK’s office in the CPR’s business center in Winnipeg tended to confirm this suspicion). During the
1930s, Nazi aggression in Europe led Canadians to view anything
German in a negative light. In addition, the prohibition against immigration during the depression and World War II hampered the VDCK
agenda.After 1945, German immigration was revived, but interest had
declined in agricultural and rural settlement. Thus, the VDCK’s services were unwanted. Its administration became dormant between the
1930s and 1945, and the group was abolished in 1952.2 This article
1
Peter Bour, “Deutsche katholiken-Versammlung in Winnipeg (Kanada),” Maria
Immaculata, 16 (1909), 413–15; Heinz Lehmann and Gerhard Bassler, The German
Canadians 1750–1937 (St. John’s, Canada, 1986), p. 267; Kurt Tischler, “The Efforts of
the Germans in Saskatchewan to Retain Their Language before 1914,” GermanCanadian Yearbook, VI (1981), 42–61, here 50; Peter Windschliegl, Fifty Golden Years
(Muenster, Canada, 1954), pp. 39–42; Martha McCarthy, The Missionary Oblates of Mary
Immaculate, St. Mary’s Province (Saskatoon, Canada, 2004), pp. 107–13; Werner
Renneberg, trans., “The Volksverein,” St. Peter’s Bote, 5 (1908–09), 28–29, Engl. publ.
2002, Rosthern, Saskatchewan; Renneberg, trans., “First Flyer of the Volksverein for
German Canadian Catholics,” St. Peter’s Bote, 8 (1911–12), 79, Engl. publ. 2002, Rosthern.
2
Ottawa, National Archive of Canada (hereafter referred to as NAC), Hilland to Egan
DIC, March 1, 1929, C10256 File 377272,Vol. 350; NAC, Blair Memorandum, November
24, 1928 C10256 File 377272, Vol. 350; Berlin, Politisches Archiv des Auswaeritiges
Amtes (hereafter referred to as PAAA), Hintrager RA to AA, Berlin, April 21, 1927, Wa2
Beiakten Deutsches Konsulate Winnipeg Band 1; Berlin, Bundesarchiv Berlin (hereafter

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DER VOLKSVEREIN DEUTSCH-CANADISCHER KATHOLIKEN

examines VDCK’s role in German immigration and cultural movements in Canada from its inception until its dissolution in 1952.
Early Influences
Individuals and organizations had significant influence in the formation and work of the VDCK. First was Ludwig Windthorst
(1812–91), an important Catholic politician and exceptional parliamentarian in Germany. Windthorst defended Catholicism and promoted Catholic education throughout his life. He was a cofounder in
October 1890 of Volksverein für das katholische Deutschland
(People’s Association for Catholics in Germany, or VkD), an organization for all Catholics in Germany. Its purpose was the following:
to enhance Christian order in the general public. It is there to instruct the
German people about the modern mixture of concerns in current society,
and offer practical help in spiritual areas, providing an orderly solution in
all walks of life.The main aim of the society therefore is to bring back the
religious foundation to human society, and to do battle against errors and
subversive socialistic laws.

It was seen as a model to be followed in Canada, as historian Heinz
Lehmann has noted. St. Peter’s Bote explained that “Canadian German
Catholics [should] get together in an organization that will have principles similar to the Volksverein in Catholic Germany, the latest legacy
of the unforgettable Windthorst.”3 The town of Windhorst in
Saskatchewan was founded in 1907 to commemorate Windthorst’s
work on behalf of German Catholics and served to attract German
Catholics migrating to Saskatchewan.
referred to as BAB), Hintrager RA Memorandum,August 7, 1924, R1501/1455; BAB, RA
Rundschreiben, January 7, 1927, R1501/1797; Jonathan F. Wagner, Troubles in
Paradise: Letters to and from German Immigrants in Canada, 1925–1939 (St.
Katharinen, Germany, 1998), pp. 16–17; PAAA, GC to AA,August 10, 1927, R6032; BAB,
GGC to AA, October 27, 1923, R1501/1792; PAAA, GGC to RA, January 5, 1929, Wa2
Deutsche Einwanderung Deutsches Konsulat Band IV; Windschliegl, Golden Years, pp.
39–42.
3
Julius Bachem, Ludwig Windthorst ein Lebensbild (Freiburg i.B, 1912), pp. 1–28;
Margaret Anderson, Windthorst: A Political Biography (Oxford, 1981), pp. 130–200;
Gordon Craig, Germany 1866–1945 (Oxford, 1978), pp. 73–90; Volksverein Deutsch
katholishe Kanada and Ludwig Erk, Die Schulfrage in Manitoba (Winnipeg, 1909),
pp. 3–4; Heinz Lehmann, Das Deutschtum in Westkanada (Berlin, 1939), p. 281;
Renneberg, trans., “The Volksverein,” “First Flyer“; McCarthy, Missionary Oblates, pp.
107–13.

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483

Another early influence was the Kolpingverein (Kolping Society, or
KV), the brainchild of Adolf Kolping. Kolping was concerned with the
plight of workers; he formed Catholic associations that attended to
the workers’ intellectual and spiritual needs. KV chapters were
founded throughout Europe as socio-religious organizations designed
to promote the improvement of the individual and family. They fostered a sense of belonging and friendship through spiritual, educational, social, and charitable actions. The first Kolping society in the
United States was founded in 1859; in Canada, the first official KV was
established after World War II. The activities of the European KV
showed VDCK members the importance of Catholic traditions, strong
moral ties, and a Christian work ethic.4
Also significant to the VDCK was Sankt Raphaels Verein zum
Schutze katholischer deutscher Auswanderer (Saint Raphael’s
Society for the Protection of German-Catholic Emigrants, or SRS),
which had been established in Germany in 1871 as an advocate for
German-Catholic emigrants with government officials, churches, and
transportation firms.5 By 1900, the SRS had agents in Montreal,
Winnipeg, Estevan, Regina, and Calgary. Historian Jonathan Wagner
states that the VDCK worked with SRS between the wars. McCarthy
notes that the SRS was active in German immigration to Canada and
that the VDCK fostered German-Catholic immigration in 1913, but
did not indicate if a formal agreement existed between the VDCK
and SRS.6

4
Bill Barry, People Places: Saskatchewan and Its Names (Regina, 1997), pp. 70–71;
McCarthy, Missionary Oblates, pp. 33–112; Windschliegl, Golden Years, p. 39; Philip
Gleason, The Conservative Reformers: German-American Catholics and the Social
Order (Notre Dame, 1968), p. 77; Renneberg, trans,“The Society Question,” St. Peter’s
Bote, 5 (1908–09), 26; H. Fischer,“Kolping,Adolf, Bl.,” New Catholic Encyclopedia , 2nd
ed. (Detroit, 2003), 8:230–31; Mark Ruff, The Wayward Flock: Catholic Youth in Postwar
Germany 1945–1965 (Chapel Hill, NC, 2005), pp. 135–43.
5
Renneberg, trans., “Saskatchewan,” St. Peter’s Bote, 8 (1911–12), 17; Renneberg,
trans.,“Immigration and Volksverein,” St. Peter’s Bote, 8 (1911–12), 23–24;Viktor Mohr,
“Die Geschichte des Raphaels-Werkes–Ein Beispiel für die Sorge um den Menschen
unterwegs,“ Zeitschrift für Kulturaustausch, 39 (Stuttgart, 1989), 354–58; Peter Hahn,
Achtzig Jahre St. Raphaels Verein (1871–1951) (Hamburg, 1951), 7–14; Georg Timpe,
Durch USA und Kanada von See und Landfahrten (Hamburg, 1928), pp. 31–42; Kevin
Ostoyich, “Emigration, Nationalism and Church Identity in Europe: The Legacy of the
German St. Raphael Society in International Catholic Migration Assistance,“
International Journal for the Study of the Christian Church, 9 (2009), 240–49.
6
Jonathan Wagner, A History of Migration from Germany to Canada, 1850–1939
(Vancouver, 2006), p. 193.

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DER VOLKSVEREIN DEUTSCH-CANADISCHER KATHOLIKEN

German-speaking clergy also were important to the VDCK. By 1911,
the Catholic Church in western Canada had eighty German-speaking
priests serving about 200 German missions. One such individual was
George Doerfler, who was born in 1866 in Richmond, Minnesota. He
was admitted to the Benedictine Order in 1893 and became known as
Father Bruno. Sent to Saskatchewan in 1902, he was instrumental in
the establishment of St. Peter’s Colony, which attracted 8000 German
Catholic residents by 1910. Doerfler also established St. Peter’s
Monastery in Muenster, Saskatchewan. He actively served German
speakers in Saskatchewan until his death in 1919.
Doerfler was crucial in promoting Katholikentage (Catholic
Days).7 The Catholic Days rallies in Saskatchewan espoused Catholic
traditions, including Catholic education, in response to a larger society that appeared to oppose Catholic customs.The first Catholic Day
celebration occurred on July 29, 1908, in Muenster, Saskatchewan.
This was followed by similar events in Winnipeg in 1909 and 1913,
Humboldt in 1910 and 1914, and Regina in 1911 and 1912.
With the help of Doerfler, annual congresses were held in the
Canadian prairie provinces, inspired by the example of the German
Catholic Church, to address issues facing Catholics. The intention was
to strengthen the faith of German Catholics, staging public celebrations with strong religious themes and discussing religion and local
events. The 1911 meeting in Regina discussed the importance of
German-language education and the need to strengthen the VDCK’s
influence with the Department of Education. It also revived Catholic
traditions from Germany.8 During the 1912 meeting in Regina, 2000
members passed a resolution favoring German education and separate Catholic schools.VDCK members affirmed that
7
Windschliegl, Golden Years, pp. 39–42; Alan B. Anderson, “Doerfler, George,” in
Dictionary of Canadian Biography Online (Ottawa, 2003), http://www.biographi.ca/
index-e.html, accessed January 30, 2011; Renneberg, trans., “Volksverein
Correspondence,” St. Peter’s Bote, 8 (1911–12), 82–85; Bruce Paproski, “The German
Catholics of St. Peter’s Colony: 1903–1930” (Master’s thesis, University of Saskatchewan,
2011), pp. 7–9.
8
VDCK and Erk, Die Schulfrage, pp. 5–17; Adam Shortt and Arthur G. Doughty,
Canada and Its Provinces (Toronto, 1914), p. 459; McCarthy, Missionary Oblates, pp.
107–12;Terence Fay,“Primordial Call of Land or Journey of Faith? The Ultimate Concern
of German Canadians in St. Peter’s Colony,” Ultimate Reality and Meaning, 25 (2002),
3–25, here 9; Paproski, “German Catholics,” pp. 27–34, 75–76; Bour, “Deutsche katholiken,” p. 415;Windschliegl, Golden Years, pp. 39–42; Johann Pietsch: Bei den Deutschen
in Westkanada (Huenfeld, 1928), pp. 73–74.

BY GRANT GRAMS

485

we esteem and love our noble German Mother-tongue, the heritage of our
beloved parents and forefathers, and that we consider it our duty to put
into practice in the church, in the school and in our families as much as
possible, so that this precious heritage will be handed down intact to our
children, and the generations to follow.

One VDCK member addressed the group and declared that “the
English language is an absolute necessity for all, but nevertheless we
want our children to learn the language we learned at our Mother’s
knees.” In an attempt to accomplish this task, the VDCK pressed the
issue with local authorities.9
These Catholic Days events provided a nexus for Catholic activities
in the region, and thus it was logical that the VDCK was formed at the
Catholic Day celebration in Winnipeg in July 1909. Some accounts of
the founding disagree.Windschliegl noted that 138 German Catholics
joined the organization, each paying $1; whereas Peter Bour, O.M.I.,
stated that 150 Catholics became members. Visiting German priest
Johannes Pietsch claimed that Father August Suffa founded the VDCK
in May 1908, and it became active in July 1909. Researcher Martha
McCarthy repeats Pietsch’s time frame.
According to Windschliegl,VDCK’s initial 1909 administration consisted of Joseph Cordes as president,Anton Tilly as vice-president and
treasurer, and Peter Habets as secretary. The German-educated priest
Cordes had served St. Joseph’s Church, Winnipeg, since 1901.
Interested in German cultural affairs, he had been instrumental in
founding the German-language newspaper Westkanada in 1907.Tilly,
manager of the German Canadian Land Company (GCLC) from 1905
to 1908, was involved in immigration work. Habets had ministered to
German speakers as a priest since 1906.10 St. Peter’s Bote indicated
that the administration of the VDCK encompassed the following:
9
J. Castell Hopkins,“Educational Affairs: Bi-lingualism; Saskatchewan University,” The
Canadian Annual Review of Public Affairs 1912 (Toronto, 1913), pp. 558–59.
10
McCarthy, in contrast to Windschliegl, lists a different set of initial administrators:
Doerfler as president, Suffa as general manager, and Bour as general secretary. Her list
may date from 1911. Bour served as general secretary until 1912, when Father Philip
Funke assumed this role. See McCarthy, Missionary Oblates, p. 112. C. W. Parker, ed.,
Who’s Who and Why: A Biographical Dictionary of Notable Men and Women of
Western Canada (Toronto, 1912), 2:580; Edward Brown, ed., The Western Law Reporter
(Canada) and Index Digest, X, no.7 (1909), 561–70;Wagner, History of Migration , pp.
133–35;Arthur Grenke, The German Community in Winnipeg 1872–1919 (New York,
1991), pp. 38, 53;Tischler,“Efforts of the Germans,” p. 49; Joe Frey, From A to Z: Priests

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DER VOLKSVEREIN DEUTSCH-CANADISCHER KATHOLIKEN

1) the general board of directors 2) the general leadership 3) the local
groups.The general board of directors is elected from the general assembly’s executive committee, from each group of 5 local groups, and must be
composed of priests together with laymen. The number of members of
general directors can increase according to the growth of the organization.A third of the members of the board of directors will be dropped each
year, the first and second will be chosen by lot. The members whose
offices end may be reelected. Immediately after their election, the board of
directors will elect the first and the second leaders, as also the secretary.
The leader will present the work program for the next year and left the
implementation up to the general leadership named by the general board
of directors and composed of the general leader, the general treasurer and
the named secretaries.11

With its administrative procedures in place, the VDCK could attend
to enhancing German-Catholic ethics in church congregations, assisting
German speakers migrating to western Canada, providing opportunities for German Catholics to convene, and working with local authorities to promote German-language education within Catholic schools.
VDCK 1914–45
World War I had a significant effect on the VDCK’s work. Germans
were considered “enemy aliens,” and German emigration to Canada
was suspended. Rumors of German atrocities in Europe and the
actions of some enemy aliens in Canada made many Canadians wary
of anything German. Complicating matters further were the deaths of
Suffa and Doerfler in 1918.12

and Parishes of the Regina Archdiocese 1819–1989 (Muenster, 1989), pp. 9–14;
Werner Entz, “Der Einfluss der deutschsprachigen Presse Westkanadas auf die
Organisationsbestrebungen des dortigen Deutschtums 1889–1939,” German-Canadian
Yearbook (1975), II:92–138, here 97; Windschliegl, Golden Years, p. 40; Renneberg,
trans., “Abbot Bruno Doerfler, O.S.B.,” St. Peter’s Bote, 8 (1911–12), 24. Renneberg,
trans.,“Catholic Day in Winnipeg,” St. Peter’s Bote, 6 (1909–10), 49–51.
11
Renneberg, trans.,“Volksverein Grows,” p. 61.
12
Jonathan Wagner, History of Migration, pp. 141–44; McCarthy, Missionary
Oblates, pp. 112–29; Charles B. Sissons, Church and State in Canadian Education
(Toronto, 1959), pp. 279–81; Grant Grams, “Karl Respa and German Espionage in
Canada during World War One,” Journal of Military and Strategic Studies, 8 (2005),
http://www.jmss.org/jmss/index.php/jmss/article/viewArticle/157, accessed January
30, 2011; Grant Grams, German Emigration to Canada and the Support of Its
Deutschtum during the Weimar Republic: The Role of the Deutsches Ausland Institut,
Verein für das Deutschtum im Ausland and German-Canadian Organisations
(Frankfurt, 2001), pp. 240–49;Windschliegl, Golden Years, p. 40.

BY GRANT GRAMS

487

In 1920 church superiors in Germany dispatched priest August
Kierdorf to minister to Saskatchewan farmers. He became VDCK’s
general secretary and later was promoted to immigration secretary, a
position he held until his death in 1931.
Restrictions on German emigration to Canada eased, thus facilitating the VDCK’s work. By January 1923, German émigrés were considered if they planned to join relatives who were farmers in Canada.
After April 7, 1923, German farmers, farm laborers, their wives, their
children under eighteen years of age, and female domestic servants
were permitted entry, causing the VDCK to note that “within a few
years the number of German colonists will increase considerably,
especially in Saskatchewan.”13 On January 8, 1927, all restrictions on
Germans were lifted; they generally had to provide evidence of
employment or sufficient funds to support themselves until they
found work.14
The VDCK’s work became centered in Saskatchewan.The German
consul, Ludwig Kempff, observed that German-speaking Protestants
tended to settle in Alberta, Manitoba, and Ontario, whereas Germanspeaking Catholics migrated to Saskatchewan, attracted by German
settlements such as the St. Joseph’s and St. Peter’s colonies.15 Accord13
Grant Grams,“Der Verein für das Deutschtum im Ausland and Its Observations of
Canada Prior to World War One,” Journal of Canadian Ethnic Studies, 33 (2001),
117–25; Grant Grams, “Wilhelm Dibelius and His Influence on German-Canadian
Studies,” in Yearbook of German-American Studies, 39 (2004), 123–34, here 131–32;
Grant Grams,“Sankt Raphaels Verein and German-Catholic Emigration to Canada,” The
Catholic Historical Review, 91 (2005), 83–104, here 98; Grams, German Emigration,
pp. 241–71; SMA, P. Max Kassiepe to [Kierdorf],August 7, 1923.
14
Windschliegl, Golden Years, p. 40; NAC, F. I. Hauser,A. Kierdorf to W. J. Egan, March
12, 1924, C7390 File 48905, Part1;“Ein Gedenkblatt auf das Grab von P. Chr.A. Kierdorf,“
Die Getreuen (1932), 25–26; “Pater Kierdorf zum Gedächtnis,“ Die Getreuen (1931),
130; Timpe, Durch USA, pp. 164–74; NAC C4689: Frederick Charles Blair, Secretary of
Immigration, to Georg Kirsch, January 3, 1923; BAB R1501/1794: Deputy Minister of
DIC to L. Kempff GGC, January 8, 1927; NAC C4689 W. J. Egan, deputy minister, to Pope,
Undersecretary of State for External Affairs, Ottawa, February 8, 1924.
15
Alan B. Anderson, German Settlements in Saskatchewan (Saskatoon, 1990), pp.
12–13; Lehmann, “Der Kampff”; BAB, Lorenz Winnipeg GC to AA, April 20, 1927,
R1501/1794; PAAA, Kempff GGC to AA, January 28, 1928, R77347 Abt. III Deutschtum
in Kanada, Politik 25; BAB, Kempff GGC to AA, November 23, 1925, R1501/1793; PAAA,
Lorenz GC to AA,August 10, 1927, R60032 Abt.VIa Deutschtum im Ausland Band1 Nr.1;
PAAA, Kempff GGC to AA, January 7, 1928, R77347 Abt. III Deutschtum in Kanada,
Politik 25; Clinton O. White, “Language, Religion, Schools and Politics among Catholic
German-American Settlers in St. Peter’s Colony, Saskatchewan 1903–1916,” CCHA Study
Sessions, 45 (Regina, 1978), 81–99.

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DER VOLKSVEREIN DEUTSCH-CANADISCHER KATHOLIKEN

ing to Lehmann, the VDCK directed German Catholics to Saskatchewan because the province’s French-Catholic administrator, Bishop
Albert Pascal, was more accommodating to German aspirations than
the Anglo-Irish clergy in Alberta. Georg Timpe of the SRS approved of
the St. Peter’s and St. Joseph’s colonies, believing they would help
immigrants avoid assimilation.16 St. Peter’s also attracted a Lutheran
congregation on the edge of the settlement, with a German-speaking
pastor serving about forty families.17
The VDCK assisted German-speaking immigrants with entry matters, job placements, land acquisition, and loan requirements. The
exact numbers of German immigrants that the VDCK assisted to
Canada cannot be fully documented, but the existing statistics reveal
the organization’s influence. Kierdorf estimated that between April
1923 and May 1930, the VDCK placed 5000 men for a total of 10,000
to 12,000 ethnic German settlers in western Canada.All were farmers
or farm laborers, with roughly half settling in Saskatchewan. Kierdorf
claimed that 50 percent of the immigrants that came via the VDCK
were settled permanently; others moved to other locations, sometimes to join relatives. Kierdorf also estimated that the VDCK helped
100 to 150 German-speaking domestics enter the country in 1929,
who settled throughout western Canada.18
Further, in testimony before the Royal Commission for Immigration
and Settlement in May 1930, Kierdorf stated that his organization
aided the settlement of German-speaking Roman Catholics (largely
from Poland, Russia, Romania, Hungary, and Germany) within German
16

Lehmann and Bassler, German Canadians, pp. 266–67; Wagner, History of
Migration, p. 144;Timpe, Durch USA, pp. 62–74, 161–80; Grams,“Sankt Raphaels,” pp.
92–93.
17
Windschliegl, Golden Years, p. 42; Bundesarchiv Koblenz (BAK), Landsnatur
[Saskatchewan], Bearbeiter Bott, 1928 R57 neu969; BAB, Lorenz GC Winnipeg to AA,
April 20, 1927, R1501/1794. Rohrbach, Das Deutschtum, pp. 138–42; Eduard
Stackelberg, “Reisebrief aus Kanada,” in Der Auslandsdeutsche (Stuttgart, 1924), pp.
611–12, 707–09, 741–44; Lehmann and Bassler, German Canadians, pp. 133, 214,
267–283, 343–44; PAAA, Kempff, Montreal GGC, to AA, December 6, 1926, R77347 Abt.
III Deutschtum in Kanada, Politik 25; PAAA, Kempff, Montreal GGC to Wertheimer DAI,
May 20, 1926, R60032 Abt VIa Deutschtum im Ausland, Band 1 Nr. 1; BAB, Lorenz GC
Winnipeg to AA, April 20, 1927, R1501/1794; PAAA, Lorenz GC Winnipeg to AA,
November 28, 1927, R60032 Abt.VIa Deutschtum im Ausland Band1 Nr.1.
18
Regina, Canada, Saskatchewan Provincial Archive (hereafter referred to as Sask-R),
R249,Vol. 44, Kierdorf to Royal Commission on Immigration and Settlement,Winnipeg,
May, 6, 1930.

BY GRANT GRAMS

489

Catholic areas in the west, especially Saskatchewan. He said that he
received hundreds of letters from Europe asking for help and maintained that the VDCK’s work was widely known among European
charitable organizations and churches.19
The organization settled immigrants within German-Catholic congregations for one year; thereafter, the newcomer could move anywhere. The German-born Joe Hinz and his wife, who had come to
Saskatchewan from the United States, reported that German speakers
moved to the German colonies to be near other German Catholics. In
these settlements, German-speaking priests encouraged the use of the
German language and German traditions. The male Hinz noted that
“there were definitely people that thought by coming to this colony,
they were German branded and it would be a German colony that
would still exist today.”20
Not all, however, were happy. Georg Wimmer emigrated in summer
1924 from Bavaria and was settled on a Saskatchewan farm through
the auspices of the VDCK. He found the food and board satisfactory,
but was unhappy that he had to sign an English work contract.
Claiming that German immigration literature falsely portrayed
Canada, he returned home after one year, citing the cold, low wages,
and poor treatment.21
The VDCK helped parishes in Regina and Gravelbourg, established
parish libraries, made radio broadcasts, set up the Catholic Teachers
19
Saskatoon, Canada, Saint Mary’s Archive (hereafter referred to as SMA), P. Max.
Kassiepe to Reverend Father, August 7, 1923, I/0 3; Wagner, History of Migration, pp.
193–94; Windschliegl, Golden Years, p. 41; NAC, L. J. Hauser Association of German
Canadian Catholics [VDCK] to Hon. Jas. A. Robb, February 21, 1924, C7390 File
1489095, Part 1; Sask-R, Kierdorf to Royal Commission on Immigration and Settlement,
May 6, 1930, R249, Vol. 44; SMA, P. Max. Kassiepe to Reverend Father, Winnipeg, August
7, 1923,A I/0 3; SMA, P. Hilland to Reverend Father Provincial,Winnipeg, March 12, 1920,
AI/0 1; SMA,Aug. Dontenwill to Father Ueberberg, Rome, September 13, 1928,AI/1 63;
Grant Grams, “Der Verein”; James Hedges, Building the Canadian West (New York,
1939), pp. 375–85.
20
Sask-R, Mr. and Mrs. Joe Hinz interviewed by George Hoffmann, July 11, 1973,
A210; PAAA, Aufzeichnung über allgemeine Auswanderungspolitik (Lenkung der
Auswanderung) Dr. Martin, Berlin, February 23, 1931.
21
Hamburg, Germany, Staatsarchiv Hamburg Auswanderungsamt I 373-7 I II F 3
Nr.52, Dr. Max Groesser, St. Raphaels Verein, to die Behörde für das Auswanderungswesen Hamburg, June 23, 1925; BAK R57/38, Betrifft Stellenvermittlung landwirtschaftlicher Arbeiter nach Canada, Stuttgart, August 25, 1924, Deutsches Ausland
Institut;Timpe, Durch USA, pp. 62–74, 161–80; Grams,“Sankt Raphaels,” pp. 92–93.

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DER VOLKSVEREIN DEUTSCH-CANADISCHER KATHOLIKEN

Agency, and facilitated Catholic instruction and guidance. It worked
with the SRS in Hamburg and chose to work with the CPR rather than
the CNR.This caused the CNR to found the Catholic Immigration Aid
Society (CIAS) in October 1928 and shortly afterward the Canadian
Lutheran Immigrant Aid Society (CLIAS), which was encouraged by
the Northdeutscher Lloyd shipping company. The German foreign
office reported that some members of the Catholic clergy were
against having an agreement with the VDCK, but wanted a new
German-Catholic immigration society. The VDCK and CIAS feared
rivalry would hurt their organizations and the Catholic Church, but
their relationship eased during the 1930s.22
The VDCK also sought to obtain advantages for its work through
supporting sympathetic politicians and political parties. The Federal
Liberal Party (FLP) was seen as pro-German and friendly to immigration.William Euler, a member of Parliament from the FLP, was viewed
as a role model for German speakers.23 In power since 1905, the
Saskatchewan Liberal Party was praised for its fairness, integrity, and
good relations with the province’s foreign-born population. In 1925,
three German-speaking VDCK members were elected from the SLP:
Anton Huck, Henry M.Therres, and John Michael Uhrich. From Vibank
in Saskatchewan, Huck represented South Qu’Appelle until 1934 and
took a personal interest in German-Catholic immigration and settlements in western Canada.Therres represented Humboldt until 1934.
Uhrich had served in the provincial cabinet in 1922, with responsibility for the Departments of Public Health and Public Works, and
22
Windschliegl, Golden Years, pp. 39–42;Anderson, German Settlements, pp. 12–13;
St.MA F I/1a 15, Unsigned Letter, St. Mary’s Rectory, Regina, Saskatchewan, September
11, 1929; St.MA H P/1 15,T. Schnerch to J. Prud’homme, September 14, 1929; St.MA H
P/1 14: Joseph H. Prud’homme to T. Schnerch, September 7, 1929. St.MA F I/1a 10: CNR
to Kierdorf VDCK, Nov. 14, 1927; St.MA A I/1 68b: Ueberberg to unknown Catholic
agency, January 24, 1929, BAB R1501/1794: Lorenz GGC to AA, January 21, 1927, NAC
C10256, File 377272,Vol. 350: Memorandum from DIC F.C. Blair, Ottawa, November 24,
1928; St.MA FI/a1: F. J. Lange to Rev. Joseph Prud’homme, Prince Albert, Sask., Denzel,
Sask. December 20, 1926.
23
Fritz Wertheimer, Von deutschen Parteien und Parteifuhren im Ausland
(Stuttgart, 1927), pp. 31–33; Fritz Wertheimer, Von deutschen Parteien und
Parteifuhren im Ausland (Stuttgart, 1930), p. 22; PAAA, Lorenz Winnipeg GC to AA,
August 30, 1927, R77347 Abt. III Deutschtum im Kanada, Politik 25; Renneberg, trans.,
“Volksverein Correspondence,” pp. 74–75; Renneberg, trans., “German-Canadian Volksverein News,” St. Peter’s Bote, 8 (1911–12), 121–23; Lehmann and Bassler, German
Canadians, pp. 266–67; J. Keith Johnson, ed., The Canadian Directory of Parliament,
1867–1967 (Ottawa, 1968), p. 193.

BY GRANT GRAMS

491

remained involved in provincial politics until 1944. The German
consul, Kempff, stated that Uhrich was supportive in all matters concerning Germans in Canada.24 The level of influence of VDCK on
these men is unclear, but it is documented that Huck and Kierdorf visited Kempff in December 1926 in Montreal, where cultural matters
relating to German speakers in Saskatchewan were discussed.
After the stock market crash in 1929, restrictive immigration legislation was passed in August 1930 and March 1931. Other measures
were enacted that affected German Catholics in Saskatchewan and
thus the VDCK’s work. One outcome of the Royal Commission for
Immigration and Settlement was the privileging of British emigrants
over those from other nations. Another was the abolition of religious
lessons; previously, they had been given for 30 minutes before the end
of each school day. In areas of German settlement, instruction had
been provided in German. This new law was seen as inhibiting freedom of religion and language, two important reasons that Germans
had emigrated to Saskatchewan.25 Lessons conducted in German
within the formal educational system were seen as essential to maintaining the language. In addition, public schools were built in areas
that Catholic schools previously had served. In the Humboldt area,
part of St. Peter’s Colony, the Catholic school was closed.26
The Great Depression and immigration legislation weakened the
VDCK. Yet during the Catholic Day assembly in Muenster,
24
Wertheimer, Von deutschen Parteien [1927], pp. 31–33; Windschliegl, Golden
Years, p. 42; Bundesarchiv Koblenz (hereafter referred to as BAK), Landsnatur
[Saskatchewan], Bearbeiter Bott, 1928 R57 neu969; BAB, Lorenz GC, Winnipeg, to AA,
April 20, 1927, R1501/1794. Paul Rohrbach, Das Deutschtum über See (Karlruhe,
1931), pp. 138–42; Stackelberg, “Reisebrief aus Kanada,“ 611–12, 707–09, 741–44;
Lehmann and Bassler, German Canadians, pp. 133, 214, 267–83, 343–44; PAAA, Kempff
Montreal GGC to AA, December 6, 1926, R77347 Abt. III Deutschtum in Kanada, Politik
25; PAAA, Kempff GGC to Wertheimer DAI, May 20, 1926, R60032 Abt VIa Deutschtum
im Ausland, Band 1 Nr. 1; BAB: Lorenz GC Winnipeg to AA,April 20, 1927, R1501/1794;
PAAA, Lorenz GC Winnipeg to AA, November 28, 1927, R60032 Abt.VIa Deutschtum im
Ausland Band1 Nr.1.
25
Wertheimer, Von deutschen Parteien [1930], pp. 21–22; Smith and Ward, Jimmy
Gardiner, pp. 193–94; Smith, Prairie Liberalism, pp. 141–43; SPA, R249, Vol. 44,
Kierdorf Testimony to RCIS,Winnipeg, May 6, 1930.
26
Kurt Tischler,“The German Canadians in Saskatchewan with Particular Reference
to the Language Problem, 1900–1930” (Master’s thesis, University of Saskatchewan,
1978). p. 125; BAK, Deutsche Schule, Kanada. J. Pirot to Premier Anderson of
Saskatchewan in St. Peters Bote, February 13, 1930, R57/38; Heinz Lehmann,“Der Kampff
um die deutsche Schule in Westkanada,” Deutsche Arbeit, 34 (1934), 72–78, here 73.

492

DER VOLKSVEREIN DEUTSCH-CANADISCHER KATHOLIKEN

Saskatchewan, on July 19–20, 1933, that also marked the twenty-fifth
anniversary of the VDCK, it was praised as having
established collection centres to assist the unfortunate victims of the
[First] World War in Europe and many a food and clothing parcel made its
way to people in dire need.The Volksverein [VDCK] headed the list when
helping hands had to be extended to the poor people in southern
Saskatchewan who suffered want in the years of drought and depression.27

Although the VDCK was still active, the society did not have the
same energy, leadership, or following of previous years. The pride in
being a German Catholic was less pronounced; for example, the last
Catholic Day gathering was held in Regina in 1935. World War II
severely damaged its public image.
The VDCK after 1945
Canadian losses in World War II and Nazi atrocities affected many
German-related initiatives in Canada, including immigration and the
work of the VDCK. The work of German-Canadian lobbying groups
and ethnic Germans in Canada brought the admission of Germanspeaking displaced persons to the government’s attention. In
February 1946 church-affiliated individuals discussed methods of
helping German speakers. Because devastation in Europe and largescale migration across borders had left many homeless, many German
speakers arrived in Canada.28
Similar to what had occurred during and after World War I, some
German speakers in Canada denied their language and heritage in an
attempt to blend in with the larger society. The efforts of German
communities, churches, societies, and individuals to preserve a distinct German identity had little long-term effect.29 Concurrent with
27

Windschliegl, Golden Years, pp. 39–42.
Willi Wanka, “Auftakt zur deutschen Nachkriegseinwanderung nach Kanada,” in
German-Canadian Yearbook (Toronto, 1986), IX:133–40; Willi Wanka, Opfer des
Friedens (Munich, 1988), pp. 252–56; Louise Holborn, The International Refugee
Organization (London, 1956), pp. 396–99;Arnold Fraser,“Displaced Persons in Canada:
A Problem of Re-Education,” (Master’s thesis, McGill University, 1950), pp. 36–63;
Department of Citizenship and Immigration Statistics Section, Immigration Statistics
1896–1961 (Ottawa, 1962), Chart 1E, p. 6.
29
Grant Grams, “Immigration and Return Migration of German Nationals,
Saskatchewan 1919 to 1939,” Prairie Forum, 33 (2008), 41–57; Robert Somerville
Graham, “The Anglicization of German Family Names in Western Canada,” American
28

BY GRANT GRAMS

493

this trend, the name of the VDCK was changed in 1937 to Volksverein
Kanadischer Katholiken (Association of Canadian Catholics, or VKK),
with the word German or deutsch omitted.This move reinforced the
VDCK’s Catholic identity and included the many VDCK members
who were not German.
Examining the numbers of German speakers in Canada from
VDCK’s inception to its demise can provide some insight regarding
the potential numbers served by the organization. Peter Bour,VDCK’s
general secretary, estimated in 1909 that there were 150,000 ethnic
Germans in the prairie provinces, including 50,000 German-speaking
Catholics. A comparison to Canadian statistics reveals the first figure
as 140,020. The number of German speakers in Canada fluctuated
from approximately 403,000 in 1911 to nearly 700,000 in 1951. The
number of German nationals went through similar changes, ranging
from approximately 39,500 in 1911 and nearly 28,500 in 1941 to
nearly 42,700 in 1951.The rise in 1951 can be attributed to immigration rather than an increase in identification as German. See appendix
A for statistics in the prairie provinces on ethnic Germans and those
born in Germany from 1911 to 1951.30
Statistics from 1931 to 1951 regarding religious denominations by
racial origin reveal that the number of German-speaking Catholics
remained steady as a percentage of the German-speaking population
(see table 1).31

Speech, 30 (1965), 260–64; Robert Somerville Graham,“The Transition from German to
English in the German Settlements of Saskatchewan,” The Journal of the Canadian
Linguistic Association, 3 (1957), 9–13; Anthony Becker, “The Germans in Western
Canada:A Vanishing People,” CCHA Study Sessions, 42 (1975), 29–49; BAB R1501/1794,
“Future of Canada—Protest against Alien Immigration,” in The Times (London), June 9,
1927; NAC RG76,Vol. 108, File 18428, The Journal, January 22, 1928.
30
Origin, Birthplace, Nationality, and Language of Canadian People (1921
Census) (Ottawa, 1929), p. 103; Special Report on the Foreign Born Population
(Ottawa, 1915), p. 14; NAC, Memorandum to Mr. Coats, RG31,Vol. 1417; Eighth Census
of Canada, 1941 (Ottawa, 1946), IV:2–3; Census of the Prairie Provinces, 1946
(Ottawa, 1949), I:35, 247, 489; M. C. Urquhart, ed., Historical Statistics of Canada
(Toronto, 1965), p. 18; Eighth Census of Canada 1941, I:14–26, 86–89; NAC, Robertson
[Memorandum] Fascist Propaganda and the Naturalization Act, March 14, 1939, RG25
Series 855-E, Vol. 1964, File 855 E, Part 1; Census of the Prairie Provinces, 1946
(Ottawa, 1949), I:35, 247, 489; Ninth Census of Canada, 1951 (Ottawa, 1953), pp. 1-1,
31-1, 45-2.
31
Canada Yearbook, 1936 (Ottawa, 1937), pp. 116–17; Census of Canada, 1951
(Ottawa, 1953), II:34-1 to 34-2.

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DER VOLKSVEREIN DEUTSCH-CANADISCHER KATHOLIKEN

TABLE 1. Religions of the German-speaking population in Canada,
1931–51
Religion
Anglican
Baptist
Lutheran
Mennonite
Presbyterian
Roman Catholic
United Church
Total Ethnic
Germans

1931a

1941a

1951a

26,878 (5.68%)
23,052 (4.96%)
37,369 (6%)
28,049 (5.9%)
23,551 (5.07%)
33,239 (5.36%)
147,290 (31.1%) 148,498 (31.96%) 172,941 (27.89%)
34,687 (7.32%)
31,465 (6.77%)
45,206 (7.29%)
20,789 (4.39%)
16,845 (3.63%)
18,886 (3.05%)
107,940 (22.79%) 116,232 (25%)
152,696 (24.62%)
73,086 (15.43%) 65,865 (14.17%) 104,239 (16.81%)
473,544

464,682

619,995

Note. Statistics from Canada Yearbook, 1936 (Ottawa, 1937), pp. 116–17; Census of
Canada, 1951 (Ottawa, 1953), II:34-1, 34-2.

A growing difference is apparent between German-speaking residents of rural and urban areas between 1911 and 1951. There was a
clear decline in German speakers willing to live a rural lifestyle,
whereas those living in an urban setting increased (see table 2).32
In considering the number of farmers who were immigrants, the
total number of adult male farmers (AMF) from 1909 to 1922 was
505,520, with total immigration as 2,328,739 (21.7 percent). From
1923 to 1930 (a liberal time of German immigration to Canada), the
AMF figure is 373,850, from a total of 1,074,250 (34.8 percent).
Legislation in 1930 suspended immigration to Canada.A sharp decline
can be seen between 1931 and 1946, when the AMF figure is 14,681,
and total immigration is 291,213; only 5 percent were farmers.Thus,
the statistics show distinct decreases in emigrants interested in farming and subsequently a lesser call for the VDCK’s services.
The establishment of a new organization to assist German emigrants also had a significant effect on the VDCK. In May 1947
Canadian residents were permitted to assist some of their relatives
under the government’s Close Relative Scheme.33 On June 24, 1947,
32
Census of Canada, 1941 (Ottawa, 1941), 1:684; Census of Canada ,1951
(Ottawa, 1951), 1:33-1, 33-2.
33
Glenbow Archive (hereafter referred to as GA), “Lutheran among Displaced
Seeking Homes in America,” unknown newspaper, c. 1948, M6321; Gerhard Bassler,
“German Immigration to Canada 1945–1950: Issues and Questions,” Interrelations and

495

BY GRANT GRAMS

TABLE 2. Ethnic Germans in rural and urban areas, 1911–51
Ethnic Germans

1911

1921

1931

1941

1951

Total Number
Rural Number
Rural Percentage
Urban Number
Urban Percentage

403,417
268,302
66.5%
135,115
33.5%

294,635
196,722
66.8%
97,913
33.2%

473,544
298,623
63.1%
174,921
36.9%

464,682
295,338
63.6%
169,344
36.4%

619,995
346,047
55.8%
273,848
44.2%

the Canadian Christian Council for Resettlement of Refugees
(CCCRR) was formed, composed of transportation companies; government representatives; and church groups such as Canadian
Lutheran World Relief, the Baptist World Alliance Immigration, the
Mennonite Board of Colonization, and CIAS. Although the SRS had
revived its work in 1946, the VDCK was not involved.34
The CCCRR sent representatives to Europe in 1947. The Catholic
representative for the CCCRR was priest and CIAS member Noah J.
Warnke, whose “task was to create Catholic channels to help

Interactions Symposium 1987, ed. Karin R. Gürttler and Edward Mornin (Montreal,
1988), pp. 169–73; Charles P. Stacey, Six Years of War (Ottawa, 1955), pp. 17–43, 148–58;
John de Navarre Kennedy, History of the Department of Munitions and Supply
(Ottawa, 1950), II:345–53; Royden Loewen and Gerald Friesen, Ethnic Diversity in
Twentieth-Century Canada (Toronto, 2009), pp. 86–87; Anonymous, Die Getreuen
Nachrichtenblattes St. Raphaelsverein zum Schutz katholischer deutscher
Auswanderer (Hamburg, 1930), pp. 10–11; Wagner, Troubles in Paradise, pp. 16–17;
Sask-R, R249,Vol. 20, Father Sauner to RCIS, 103–104, 144; Grams, German Emigration
to Canada, p. 75; Windschliegl, Golden Years, pp. 41–42; Norman Threinen, A Sower
Went Out:A History of the Manitoba and Saskatchewan District of Lutheran ChurchCanada (Missouri Synod) (Regina, Canada, 1982), pp. 96–97; Jacques Vernant, The
Refugee in the Post-War World (London, 1953), pp. 549–50; L. Fortier, Memorandum for
Director of Immigration, Ottawa, May 30, 1952, Documents on Canadian External
Relations, 18 (1952), 1457; William Sturhahn,“The Canadian Christian Council for the
Resettlement of Refugees. Its Contribution to German Post-War Immigration to
Canada,” Kontakte, Konflikte, Konzepte Deutsche-kanadische Beziehung Symposium
1980, ed. Karin Gurttler and Herfried Scheer (Montreal, 1981), pp. 45–52.
34
GA, Report of Meeting Held in Ottawa, June 23, 1947, M6321; Clarence M.
Cherland, “Canadian Lutheran World Relief and Its Human Involvement” (Master’s
thesis, Wartburg Theological Seminary, Dubuque, IA, 1964), 104–11; Threinen, Sower,
pp. 96–97; Secretary of State for External Affairs to Acting High Commissioner in the
United Kingdom, Ottawa, 1947, Documents on Canadian External Relations, 13
(1947), 335–36; McCarthy, Missionary Oblates, pp. 136–42.

496

DER VOLKSVEREIN DEUTSCH-CANADISCHER KATHOLIKEN

[German] Catholic refugees get out of Europe and into Canada.”35
Warnke’s work created a Catholic alternative to the VDCK. Most
German speakers that arrived in the postwar period had no contact
with the VDCK; they saw the CCCRR as their rescuer.
On March 28, 1950, all barriers inhibiting German immigration
were lifted, resulting in large numbers of German speakers entering
Canada. Catholic needs had been safeguarded, as a CIAS representative ensured that Catholics would not be completely under Protestant
influence. Joseph Warnke, brother of Noah, recommended that, with
restrictions ending, the CIAS should cede from the CCCRR, but continue to aid German Catholics migrating to Canada.The CIAS formally
left the CCCRR in 1951.36
Further declines in the number of farmers from 1947 to 1952 show
why VDCK would find a lesser demand for its services. For this
period, the AMF number was 101,869, with total immigration at
717,559, and the percentage of farmers as 14.2 percent.
From twenty-five VDCK branches in 1911 and fifty-five by 1915, the
organization’s branches had decreased to thirty-six by 1937. From a
total membership in 1912 of 2000, the total membership in 1937 was
between 4000 and 5000.37 Although the VDCK played a role in
German migration and German culture in Canada for more than thirty
years, it was affected by several factors after World War II. Both world
wars and their associated anti-German sentiment hurt the organization, as well as immigration restrictions, a decline of interest in farming by emigrants, and a lack of leaders within the VDCK administration after 1945. During this period, other German cultural endeavors
35

Mathias Schulze, James M. Skidmore, David G. John, Grit Liebscher, and Sebastian
Siebel-Achenbach, eds., German Diasporic Experiences: Identity, Migration, and Loss
(Waterloo, Canada, 2008), pp. 250–51; Bernard M. Daly, Remembering for Tomorrow: A
History of the Canadian Conference of Catholic Bishops, 1943–1003 (Ottawa, 1995),
pp. 23–25.
36
International Migration Commission, International Catholic Migration Congress
(The Hague, 1954), pp. 148–49; Schulze et al., eds., German Diasporic Experiences, pp.
250–51; McCarthy, Missionary Oblates, pp. 137–40; Windschliegl, Golden Years, pp.
41–42; Szabo, Demographic Trends, pp. 41–42.
37
Grams, “Sankt Raphael,” pp. 93–104; Sask-R, Kierdorf to RCIS, Winnipeg, May 6,
1930, R249, Vol. 44; Windschliegl, Golden Years, pp. 39–42; Renneberg, trans.,
“Volksverein Correspondence,” pp. 74–75; Renneberg, trans., “German-Canadian
Volksverein News,” pp. 121–23; Lehmann and Bassler, German Canadians, pp. 266–67;
J. C. Hopkins, The Annual Review 1912 (Toronto, 1913), pp. 558–59.

BY GRANT GRAMS

497

such as German-language instruction, German newspapers, German
cultural celebrations, and German immigration also suffered. Despite
the VDCK’s work to support German communities, churches, societies, and individuals, its efforts failed to have a lasting effect. In 1952
the VDCK’s funds were ceded to the CIAS, and the organization officially closed.38

38

Joanna Crandell, Library and Archives Canada, to Grant Grams, April 19, 2006; JoAnne Colby, CPR Archive Montreal, to Grant Grams, May 8, 2006; Grant Grams, German
Emigration to Canada and the Support of Its Deutschtum during the Weimar
Republic: The Role of the Deutsches Ausland Institut, Verein für das Deutschtum im
Ausland and German-Canadian Organisations (Frankfurt, 2001), pp. 136–37; GA,
Opening Remarks of T. O. F. Herzer, Manager of CCA, M2269 File 646 CPR; Robert
England, The Colonization of Western Canada (Westminister, 1936), 99–104;Winnipeg,
Canada, Mennonite Historical Centre (hereafter referred to as MHC), Herzer to Friesen,
October 20, 1923,Vol. 1170, File 47; MHC, Badger CCA to Friesen, March 17, 1925,Vol.
1288, File 725; Margaret Drysdale, “Three Times Betrayed: The Sudenten Germans of
Tomslake, British Columbia” (Master’s thesis, University of Victoria, 2005), pp. 61–62;
Hedges, Canadian West, pp. 375–85; Windschliegl, Golden Years, pp. 41–42; Szabo,
Demographic Trends; Graham,“Anglicization”; Graham,“Transition”; Becker,“Germans
in Western Canada.”

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DER VOLKSVEREIN DEUTSCH-CANADISCHER KATHOLIKEN

APPENDIX A. German speakers in the Canadian Prairie Provinces,
1911–51
Province
Saskatchewan
Manitoba
Alberta
Province
Saskatchewan
Manitoba
Alberta
Province
Saskatchewan
Manitoba
Alberta
Province
Saskatchewan
Manitoba
Alberta
Province
Saskatchewan
Manitoba
Alberta

Population
in 1911
492,432
461,394
374,295
Population
in 1921
757,510
610,118
588,454
Population
in 1931
921,785
700,139
731,605
Population
in 1941
895,992
729,744
796,169
Population
in 1951
831,728
776,541
939,501

Ethnic Germans
in 1911

Those Born in
Germany by 1911

68,628
34,530
36,862

8,300
4,294
6,102

13.94%
7.48%
9.85%

1.10%
0.70%
1.04%

Ethnic Germans
in 1921

Those Born in
Germany by 1921

70,500
25,900
28,800

6,409
2,227
4,606

9.31%
4.25%
4.94%

1.30%
0.48%
1.23%

Ethnic Germans
in 1931

Those Born in
Germany by 1931

138,499
57,312
63,410

9,832
3,561
8,121

15.02%
8.19%
8.67%

1.07%
0.51%
1.12%

Ethnic Germans
in 1941

Those Born in
Germany by 1941

130,258
41,479
77,721

6,310
2,285
5,867

14.54%
5.68%
9.76%

0.70%
0.31%
0.74%

Ethnic Germans
in 1951

Those Born in
Germany by 1951

135,584
54,251
107,985

6,137
3,568
7,275

16.30%
6.99%
11.49%

0.74%
0.46%
0.77%

THE SPANISH BISHOPS AND NAZISM DURING THE
SPANISH CIVIL WAR
BY

SANTIAGO MARTÍNEZ SÁNCHEZ*

The anticommunist position of the Spanish bishops was unanimous during the Spanish Civil War. Their attitude toward Nazism,
however, underwent a gradual evolution, from indifference
(1936–37) to concern (1938–39). This change was due, in part, to
the sympathy for Germany exhibited by the Spanish Falange and,
above all, to the warnings of the Holy See. It did not, however, result
in a unanimous and open criticism of the Nazis. The opposition of
the bishops was primarily in response to papal documents and
warnings from German bishops critical of Nazism’s stance against
Christianity, leading the bishops to question the compatibility of
totalitarian ideas and Catholicism to create the new state that
Francisco Franco wanted to build in Spain.
Keywords: Gomá, Isidro; Nazism; Pius XI; Spanish Civil War; Spanish
bishops
1. The Second Spanish Republic and the Catholic Church
In 1930, a year before the birth of the Spanish Republic,
Catholicism in Spain was in decline. Major segments of the population
were indifferent or hostile to the Church, including much of the peasantry in the southern and central regions, the urban proletariat, large
portions of the bourgeoisie, officials, lawyers, intellectuals, and journalists. A significant part of the country had distanced itself from
*Dr. Martínez Sánchez is an associate professor in the Department of History at the
University of Navarre in Spain, email smartinez@unav.es. The author thanks the anonymous reviewers for The Catholic Historical Review and staff editor Elizabeth Foxwell
for their comments on this article. Work for this article was conducted as part of the
research project HAR2011-29383-C02-02,“La restauración social católica en el primer
franquismo 1936–1953,” co-directed by José-Leonardo Ruiz and Feliciano Montero,
professors of contemporary history at the Universities of Alcalá de Henares and Seville.
Unless otherwise noted, translations into English are provided by the author.

499

500

THE SPANISH BISHOPS AND NAZISM DURING THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR

the Church, but in 1930 Spain was still a Catholic confessional state
that had laws protecting Catholicism and many citizens loyal to the
Church due to custom, tradition, and an extensive network of
Catholic charitable and educational institutions.1
When the Republic was declared on April 14, 1931, the Catholic
Church was in an enormously important social position.Ten days later
the Vatican instructed the Spanish bishops to tell Catholics that they
should obey the new regime. The bishops did so, including Cardinal
Pedro Segura, the archbishop of Toledo who was well known for his
loyalty to the king and his anti-Republicanism. However, two factors
were to make this initial obedience into nothing more than an empty
and scarcely credible formality during the five years of the Republic.2
First, there were the anticlerical laws of the new government. The
socialists and liberals led by Manuel Azaña believed that modernizing
the country would require a resolution of the “religious question.” The
coalition in power between 1931 and 1933 feared the powerful
Church that opposed the Republicans and was emotionally tied to the
monarchy, judging its hold over the consciences of the people to be
incompatible with progress and freedom. Therefore, ecclesiastical
influence would have to be countered and reversed if the new
Republican project were to survive and prosper. Thus, the new
Constitution had a strong anticlerical bias. Moreover, a wave of
laws between 1931 and 1933 sought to reduce the social hegemony of
Catholicism.Among these, in particular, was the June 1933 law of religions and religious orders that denied the right of religious orders to
teach in their own schools and placed ownership of Catholic churches
under state control.3 The Catholic promises of obedience were
unnecessary or irrelevant for the Republicans in government.

1
See William J. Callahan, The Catholic Church in Spain, 1875–1998 (Washington,
DC, 2000), pp. 149–69, 217–39; and José Andrés-Gallego and Antón M. Pazos, eds. La
Iglesia en la España contemporánea. Vol. I. 1800–1936 (Madrid, 1999), pp. 365–82.
2
Regarding church-state tensions during the Republican period, see Julián Casanova,
The Spanish Republic and Civil War (Cambridge, UK, 2010), pp. 9–150; Frances
Lannon, Privilege, Persecution, and Prophecy: The Catholic Church in Spain
1875–1975 (Oxford, 1987), pp. 178–97; Gonzalo Redondo, Historia de la Iglesia en
España, 1931–1939, Vol. I: La Segunda República (1931–1936) (Madrid, 1993);
Vicente Cárcel Ortí, La II República y la Guerra Civil en el Archivo Secreto Vaticano,
Documentos del año 1931, vols. I.1, I.2 (Madrid, 2011).
3
See Feliciano Montero, ed., El conflicto político-religioso en la Segunda República
(Alcalá de Henares, 2009).

BY SANTIAGO MARTÍNEZ SÁNCHEZ

501

The second factor was church tradition that was imbedded in the
culture. Over the course of centuries, cordial relations existed
between the throne and the altar.The experience of a first, brief, and
unstable Republic in 1873–74 gave way to the Restoration. In the
peace that Antonio Canovas del Castillo made with the Church in
1876, it was agreed that Spanish political institutions could be liberal,
but, in exchange, the government promised to protect the religious
monopoly of the Church in a country without religious freedom.
However, this alliance was shattered in 1931. For Spanish Catholics
and their bishops, the end of the monarchy meant the twilight of the
secure and stable world in which they had lived. But the Republican
era was not only a period of nostalgia for lost privileges but also was
one of lamentation for the present, because a political-religious confrontation began in 1931 that Spanish Catholics and their bishops
viewed as a persecution of their faith. In this atmosphere, they
greeted with relief the victory of the confessional Catholic CEDA
party in the November 1933 elections, which interrupted the government policy of secularization.4
The Confederación Española de Derechas Autónomas (CEDA)
has been viewed in dichotomous ways. Some studies emphasize its
role as a Trojan horse dedicated to destroying the regime, restoring
the monarchy, or establishing a fascist state in Spain. Other perspectives, however, assert that its participation in political life and elections convey a genuine adherence to democratic ideals and to the
Republic on the part of the Vatican, the bishops, and Spanish
Catholics.5
However, it is not accurate to speak of Spanish Catholics during
the period of the Republic as a discrete group with homogenous
social and political attitudes. In fact, there was a great deal of fragmentation in the Catholic and conservative electorate.The clergy and
bishops supported a variety of Catholic electoral options, although
4

For an analysis of the attitude of the Spanish bishops up to 1933, see Carmen Frías
García, Iglesia y Constitución: la jerarquía católica ante la II República (Madrid,
2000).
5
These contrasting approaches can be seen in Frances Lannon, “The Church’s
Crusade against the Republic,” in Revolution and War in Spain, 1931–1939, ed. Paul
Preston (London, 1984), pp. 35–58; and in Manuel Álvarez Tardío, Anticlericalismo y
libertad de conciencia: política y religión en la Segunda República Española,
1931–1936 (Madrid, 2002).

502

THE SPANISH BISHOPS AND NAZISM DURING THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR

the CEDA was their clear favorite. However, a broad sector of the
clergy in the Basque region supported the Partido Nacionalista
Vasco, whereas those in Catalonia tended to support the Lliga
Catalana or Unió Democràtica. As these confessional parties advocated political autonomy for their communities, the CEDA viewed
them as rivals that weakened national unity. For the CEDA, Spain did
not necessarily require a monarchical form of government, but it definitely had to be a Catholic country. The nationalist parties, on the
other hand, had little sympathy for the monarchy. The need for the
unity of Spain strengthened their loyalty to the Republic that had
given them political autonomy.6
There also were two monarchist political forces composed of
Catholics, but each was hostile to the other. On one side were the
Carlists, who considered themselves the true defenders of the interests of the Church and conspired against the Republic from April
1931 to July 1936.There also were the followers of Alfonso XIII who
were members of the Renovación Española, which contested the
February 1936 elections as the Bloque Nacional. Its leader, José
Calvo Sotelo, was assassinated on July 13 of that year.7
Finally, the young fascists of the Falange, founded by José Antonio
Primo de Rivera in late October 1933, also were Catholic in their origins and sympathies. Like the Carlists, the Falange was antidemocratic
and had violent tendencies. But their sanctification of the nation, antimonarchism, revolutionary rhetoric, and indifference to the Church
explain their minority status among Catholics.The violence of spring
1936, followed by the outbreak of the Civil War, transformed the elitist Falange of the Republic into a party of the masses.8
6

On the Basque Country and Catalonia in the Republican period, see Hilari Raguer,
Carrasco i Formiguera. Un cristiano nacionalista, 1890–1938 (Madrid, 2002), pp.
171–213; Santiago de Pablo, Ludger Mees, and José Antonio Rodríguez Ranz, El péndulo
patriótico. Historia del Partido Nacionalista Vasco, 1895–2005 (Barcelona, 2005), pp.
120–68.
7
See Antonio M. Moral Roncal, La cuestión religiosa en la Segunda República
española. Iglesia y carlismo (Madrid, 2009); and Julio Gil Pecharromán, Renovación
Española. Una alternativa monárquica a la Segunda República (Madrid, 1985).
8
For information about the Falange during the Republic, see Stanley G. Payne,
Falange:A History of Spanish Fascism (Stanford, 1961), pp. 38–131. For more about the
Falange during the Civil War, see Sheelagh M. Ellwood, Spanish Fascism in the Franco
Era: Falange Española de las JONS (Basingstoke, UK, 1987), pp. 39–65.The most complete study on Falange is José L. Rodríguez Jiménez, Historia de Falange Española de
las JONS (Madrid, 2000).

BY SANTIAGO MARTÍNEZ SÁNCHEZ

503

The elections of February 1936 reflected the sharp division of
Spain into two electorally and socially balanced blocs: the Popular
Front and the CEDA, which wished to punish the revolutionaries
of October 1934, opposed the land reform of recent years, and faced
charges of fascism as a result of its positions.
In the months leading up to the outbreak of the Civil War, positions of those in Parliament and elsewhere radicalized. The reforms
initiated in the first two years of the Republic were accelerated with
the intention of thwarting a new conservative reaction. In addition,
frequent strikes, closures of right-wing newspapers, burnings and
other attacks on churches, and assassinations committed by socialists
and Falangists threw daily life into turmoil.The civil and military conspiracy that formed in July 1936 not only failed to deal with the
unrest but also gave rise in half of the country to the very revolution
it had sought to avoid.9
The debate regarding the motives of the CEDA (as well as the
Church) regarding the Republic is closely related to other controversies involving the causes and nature of the Civil War and its protagonists. Intensive propaganda activities by both sides took up these
questions during the war, seeking to gain an advantage.
According to the rebels, the coup d’état occurred to prevent
social chaos, thwart the danger of a communist revolution, and toss
out a government comfortable with revolutionaries and passive in
the face of public disorder. In this view, the military uprising was a
preventive measure against the forces that sought to break up the
nation: liberals, communists, anarchists, socialists, nationalists, Freemasons, and so forth.10
Republican propaganda, on the other hand, held that the privileged
(including the Church) were trying to recover their lost position by
force, overthrowing a democracy that was fighting to defend itself
and the Spanish people.11 Thus, in the Republican view, the persecution of the Church was the response of the people against an aggres9

See Casanova, Spanish Republic and Civil War, pp. 125–49.
See, for example, Constantino Bayle, ¿Qué pasa en España? A los católicos del
mundo (Burgos, 1937).
11
See, for example, Manuel Aznar Soler and Luis M. Schneider, II Congreso Internacional de Escritores Antifascistas (1937), Vol. III: Ponencias, documentos y testimonios (Barcelona, 1979).
10

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THE SPANISH BISHOPS AND NAZISM DURING THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR

sor—an act of self-defense that resulted in deplorable but justified
killings because of the political stance taken by the clergy.
Like the Francoist zone, the Republican side had a conglomeration
of forces under different banners. Anarchists, socialists, and communists shared a violent anticlericalism, completely different from the
peaceful secularism of Azaña and his followers of the center left.
Furthermore, the anti-Catholic violence declined as the government
managed to reassert its authority over the revolutionary forces.Yet the
Republicans agreed, regardless of faction, that the Church was responsible for its own persecution by a people hostile to it.
In contrast, the armed forces that joined the coup and the Spanish
conservatives who joined the rebels (rural landowners in the northwest, center, and north, as well as the urban middle classes of
Andalusia, Castile, and Navarra) made the defense of the Church the
fundamental justification of their fight.They saw the issue as neither
a civil war nor a conflict between classes but rather a crusade. The
coup d’état failed in cities such as Madrid, Barcelona, Valencia, and
Bilbao because of its weak organization and the quick reaction of the
Republican forces. The coup d’état, which sought neither to protect
the Church nor restore the monarchy, triggered a violent revolution in
Republican Spain and a religious revival in its Francoist counterpart.
The bishops and the clergy—with very few exceptions12—thus supported a rebellion that shared their anti-liberal, anticommunist, and
antirevolutionary values—the values necessary, they believed, to construct a Spain in accordance with its historic roots.13
However, that was not all in a civil war of extraordinary complexity. Francisco Franco, an ally of Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy,
received weapons and troops from these countries as well as decisive
ideological influences to rebuild the New Spain that was to emerge
12

Regarding the Civil War in the Basque Country, see Javier Sánchez Erauskin, Por
Dios hacia el Imperio. Nacionalcatolicismo en las Vascongadas en el primer franquismo, 1936–1945 (Donostia, 1994); and Juan de Iturralde, La Guerra de Franco. Los
vascos y la Iglesia, 2 vols. (San Sebastián, 1978).
13
On the attitude of the Church during the Civil War, see Alfonso Álvarez Bolado,
Para ganar la guerra, para ganar la paz. Iglesia y guerra civil: 1936–1939 (Madrid,
1995); Julián Casanova, La Iglesia de Franco (Barcelona, 2005); Hilari Raguer,
Gunpowder and Incense: The Catholic Church and the Spanish Civil War (London,
2007); and Gonzalo Redondo, Historia de la Iglesia en España, 1931–1939, Vol. II: La
guerra civil, 1936–1939 (Madrid, 1993).

BY SANTIAGO MARTÍNEZ SÁNCHEZ

505

from victory. Thus, on the rebel side there were two different projects
of national reconstruction, covertly opposed to each other during the
war and openly hostile to each other in the postwar period. One was
Falangist, fascist, and revolutionary, favoring a strong and centralized
state in which the Catholic religion would be subordinated to the
nation.14 The other was Catholic, conservative, traditional, and antirevolutionary, suspicious of the power of a Falange that only valued
Catholicism as a cultural factor and thus an advocate for a different
foundation for the New Spain.15
The following seeks to explore the suspicions of the Spanish bishops regarding the arrival of Nazi ideology in the country during the
Civil War.16 Their reaction to Nazism was rooted in cultural-religious
reasons, unlike two of their other attitudes: their condemnation of the
religious persecution of the Republic (categorizing those who carried
it out as communists, without further nuance)17 and their view of
Franco (believing he would rebuild the country in accordance with
its cultural and religious heritage). But although criticism of the communist revolutionaries was common in Francoist Spain, the condemnation of Spanish revolutionary fascists was a phenomenon that was
specifically Catholic. The bishops did not extend their condemnation
to Nazism as an ideology or to the strained relations between Adolf
Hitler and the Catholic Church in Germany, either because they knew
14
Regarding the Falangist rebel side, see the intelligent analysis of Zira Box, España,
año cero. La construcción simbólica del franquismo (Madrid, 2010).
15
Regarding the Catholic rebel faction, the following works are essential: José
Andrés-Gallego, ¿Fascismo o Estado Católico? Ideología, religión y censura en la
España de Franco, 1937–1941 (Madrid, 1997); María L. Rodríguez Aisa, El Cardenal
Gomá y la guerra de España: aspectos de la gestión pública del Primado, 1936–1939
(Madrid, 1981); and Antonio Marquina Barrio, La diplomacia vaticana y la España de
Franco, 1936–1945 (Madrid, 1983).
16
Graciela Ben-Dror alludes to this question but does not deal with it in depth; see
Ben-Dror, La Iglesia católica ante el Holocausto. España y América Latina,
1933–1945 (Madrid, 2003), pp. 45–50.
17
Thirteen out of sixty Spanish bishops, nearly 7000 priests, and 200 nuns were
killed in Republican Spain during the Spanish Civil War. Similarly, several thousand religious buildings were destroyed or damaged by the anticlerical fury. On the roots of
Spanish anticlericalism, see Manuel Delgado, La ira sagrada. Anticlericalismo, iconoclastia y antirritualismo en la España contemporánea (Barcelona, 2012). On the reasons and the anticlerical events, see Antonio Montero, Historia de la persecución religiosa en España 1936–1939 (Madrid, 1961) and José L. Ledesma,“Delenda est Ecclesia.
Sulla violenza anticlericale e la Guerra civile del 1936,” in Clero e guerre spagnole
in età contemporanea (1808–1939), ed. Alfonso Botti (Soveria Mannelli, 2011), pp.
309–32.

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THE SPANISH BISHOPS AND NAZISM DURING THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR

very little about the subject, or because they understood their duty
was limited to Spain. However, it is possible to deduce that they
shared the concerns of the Vatican regarding Nazism from the
Magesterium regarding the question, as can be seen here.
2. Two Encyclicals from Pope Pius XI
The Spanish bishops’ agenda was filled with domestic concerns
during the Second Spanish Republic (1931–36).Anticlerical laws worried the prelates as well as Pope Pius XI who, in the June 1933
encyclical Dilectissima Nobis, condemned the secularist hostility of
the newly approved law concerning religious denominations and
organizations. As a result, the Spanish bishops did not register any
public reaction in this period to the problems of the Catholic Church
in Germany.The civil war that began three years later emphasized the
purely domestic concerns of the prelates.
This preoccupation is evident in their pastoral writings, as they
expressed their wish to avoid what they viewed as the mistakes of the
Republican period. For them, the primary object was the essential
unity between Spanish national identity and Catholicism. The discourse of the Spanish prelates manifested the same concerns about
national identity as the Spanish Republicans and Franco’s supporters.
But the international character of the war soon manifested itself and
altered this view. The German and Italian support for the rebels, as
well as the Russian alliance with the Republicans, had decisive consequences in military matters and propaganda. Each side argued that
the other was the mortal enemy of Spain and had sold out the nation
to Russian and German foreigners who would take control if the war
were lost.18 Spain was the arena where Germany and Russia would
solve their differences; and the winner would impose its hegemony
internationally.
Pius XI condemned both totalitarian regimes in March 1937. On
March 14, he signed the encyclical Mit brennender Sorge (With Deep
Anxiety and Concern), which was read in Catholic parishes through18
On this point, compare Xosé M. Seixas Núñez, ¡Fuera el invasor! Nacionalismos
y movilización bélica durante la guerra civil española (1936–1939) (Madrid, 2006),
pp. 124–45, 245–61; and José Álvarez Junco, “El nacionalismo español como mito
movilizador. Cuatro guerras,” in Cultura y movilización en la España contemporánea, ed. Rafael Cruz and Manuel Pérez Ledesma (Madrid, 1997), pp. 59–67.

BY SANTIAGO MARTÍNEZ SÁNCHEZ

507

out the Reich on Sunday, March 22. Earlier, on March 19, the pope had
rejected communism in the encyclical Divini Redemptoris. The
Spanish bishops shared the papal doctrine in an irregular fashion.
Prior to the war, they had seen the incompatibility between communism and Catholicism.They had nothing to oppose, or clarify, in what
Pius XI said. For them, communism represented an update of the old
errors that had undone Spain. Against this final stage of the Second
Republic and its efforts to create “misbegotten laws and practices”19
in a secularized Spain that was no longer truly Spain20 stood the
National Movement to recover the real Spain and that therefore
should be firmly supported by good Spanish Catholics.
On the other hand, the Spanish bishops regarded Nazism as a distant ideology despite the German support for Franco, which may
explain their weak efforts to publicize Pius XI’s criticism of the Nazis
in a Spain where the Catholic Church was free. Even so, the bishops
also endorsed papal teaching on the subject, albeit slowly and somewhat reluctantly. It is an undisputable reality that Nazi stance against
Christianity does not appear in the writings of bishops on the Civil
War as a threat to the regeneration of the country. In episcopal documents, only sporadic warnings appear about the danger posed to the
revival of Spanish Catholicism by the alliance with a German neopagan. Thus, in the bishops’ view, the old communist enemy—
unleashed with impunity in half of Spain—embodied evil rather than
the youthful, remote Nazi ideology.
Two March 1937 encyclicals of Pius XI condemning communism
and criticizing the Nazi ideology provide illumination on the bishops’
attitudes toward the two ideologies.The press in Franco’s Spain issued
Divini Redemptoris of March 19 without impediment; it also
appeared in ecclesiastical bulletins. The encyclical publication
occurred throughout 1937 and even into 1938, eventually appearing
in almost every bulletin of the forty dioceses in the rebel Spain.21
19
Gomá said this in his first pastoral on war,“The Case of Spain,” dated November
23, 1936 (see Boletín Eclesiástico del Arzobispado de Toledo, January 15, 1937, p. 11).
20
See the pastoral “The Two Cities” by Pla y Deniel in Boletín Oficial del Obispado
de Salamanca, September 30, 1936, p. 305.
21
Divini Redemptoris was published in thirty-seven dioceses, which follow in the
order of publication of the encyclical: Vitoria, Mallorca, Pamplona, Segovia, León,
Sigüenza, Cádiz-Ceuta, Toledo, Coria, Ciudad Rodrigo, Saragossa, Astorga, Seville,
Córdoba, Canarias, Tarazona y Tudela, Plasencia, Ávila, Osma, Santiago, Burgos, Huesca,
Teruel, Granada, Calahorra-La Calzada, Oviedo, Tuy, Salamanca, Badajoz, Málaga,

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THE SPANISH BISHOPS AND NAZISM DURING THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR

The importance of Divini Redemptoris as propaganda in Franco’s
Spain suggests that the bishops would order their priests to read or
explain it to their parishioners during Mass. But it was much more
customary for the instructions, addresses, and pastoral letters of bishops to end with the instruction “read to the faithful” rather than papal
documents. This is why it was surprising that some bishops ordered
their priests to read Divini Redemptoris to the people.The following
eight of the forty bishops gave this instruction to their priests:
Enrique Pla y Deniel (Salamanca), Luciano Pérez Platero (Segovia),
Manuel López Arana (Ciudad Rodrigo), Rafael Balanzá (Lugo),
Florencio Cerviño (Orense), José Eguino Trecu (Santander), Balbino
Santos (Málaga), and Justo Echeguren (Oviedo).22
3. The Reception of Mit brennender Sorge in Francoist Spain
The complete harmony between Nationalist propaganda and the
papal magisterium of Pius XI with regard to communism disappeared
with the encyclical Mit brennender Sorge. The encyclical, which
addressed “the situation of the Catholic Church in the Germanic
Reich,” strongly criticized Nazi hostility toward the Catholic Church. In
Germany, parish priests read it to the faithful at all Masses in the country on March 21, 1937, which was Palm Sunday. In response, the Reich
orchestrated a campaign accusing Catholic priests of pedophilia.
None of these events became known in Franco’s Spain, for the
National Delegation of Press and Propaganda prevented the encyclical against the allied country to reach the civil and ecclesiastical
press. In fact, some weeks earlier, a circular letter to the governors of
Spanish provinces under Nationalist control had banned “any publication of any kind whatsoever relating to Protestantism in its relations
Mondoñedo, Zamora, Tenerife, Palencia, Lugo, Orense, and Santander. It was not published in the bulletins of Ibiza, Jaca, and Valladolid. It did not appear in the following
twenty dioceses, in Republican areas in 1937: Almería, Barbastro, Barcelona, Cartagena,
Ciudad Real, Cuenca, Gerona, Guadix, Jaén, Lérida, Madrid-Alcalá, Menorca, Orihuela,
Segorbe, Solsona,Tarragona,Tortosa, Urgel,Valencia, and Vich.
22
The bishops’ instructions can be seen in Boletín Salamanca, July 17, 1937, pp.
170–71; Boletín Oficial Eclesiástico de la Diócesis de Segovia, April 30, 1937, p. 149;
Boletín Oficial Eclesiástico del Obispado de Ciudad Rodrigo, June 10, 1937, p. 136;
Boletín Oficial Eclesiástico del Obispado de Lugo, November 15, 1937, pp. 203–04;
Boletín Oficial Eclesiástico del Obispado de Orense, March 15, 1938, p. 106; Boletín
Oficial Eclesiástico del Obispado de Santander, March 19, 1938, pp. 60–61; Boletín
Oficial Eclesiástico del Obispado de Málaga, June 1937, p. 151; Boletín Oficial
Eclesiástico del Obispado de Oviedo,August 10, 1937, p. 202.

BY SANTIAGO MARTÍNEZ SÁNCHEZ

509

with Judaism and Freemasonry.”23 No Spaniard should make the connection between Protestantism and Germany, and (from this point of
view) the mention of the conflict between the Reich and the Catholic
Church was even less reasonable.
In his encyclical, the pope stated that the German government had
violated the Concordat of 1933. Pius XI condemned the racism that
“superficial minds” were preaching as a new ethical guideline instead
of God, thus justifying the teaching of anti-Christian principles and
the use of amoral violence. Pius XI rejected the “[s]ecret and open
measures of intimidation” and various pressures used by the authorities to encourage Catholics to apostasize and advised the faithful to
fight to the cry of “Depart from me, Satan, for it is written: you shall
worship the Lord thy God and him alone shall you serve.” Moreover,
the pope lamented (and openly revealed) the persecution unleashed
against the Church’s hierarchy, stating that “to all those imprisoned in
jail and concentration camps, the Father of the Christian world sends
his words of gratitude and commendation.” Pius XI did not want “to
be an accomplice to equivocation by an untimely silence” and noted
at the end of the encyclical that those responsible for this state of
affairs are “oppressors of the Church,” the “enemies of Christ,” and
“renegades and destroyers of the Christian West.”24
This proved too much for the rebels to stomach in a black-andwhite civil war, in which such qualifications could only be applied to
the “Reds.” In both encyclicals, it was clear that communism and
Nazism were comparable dangers to the Church. Unlike his writing
on communism, the pope did not now synthesize and expressly condemn the Nazi ideology, but rather its belligerent stance against
Christianity. But anyone who then read Mit brennender Sorge could
23
Javier Domínguez Arribas, El enemigo judeo-masónico en la propaganda franquista, 1936–1945 (Madrid, 2009), pp. 189–90.
24
For these references, see Boletín Oficial Eclesiástico del Obispado de Pamplona,
April 1, 1938, pp. 127, 129, 130, 137, 139, 140. Quotes from the encyclical:“oberflächliche Geister” (no. 15); “Mit verhüllten und sichtbaren Zwangsmaßnahmen,
Einschüchterungen” (no. 24); “Weiche von mir, Satan, denn es steht geschrieben: den
Herrn deinen Gott sollst du anbeten und Ihm allein dienen. [Mt 4,10; Lk 4,8].” (no. 24);
“[A]ll denen, die wegen Ausübung ihrer Hirtenpflicht Leid und Verfolgung tragen
mußten und müssen, folgt—für manche bis in die Kerkerzelle und das Konzentrationslager hinein—der Dank und die Anerkennung des Vaters der Christenheit”(no. 44);
“wollten Wir durch unzeitgemäßes Schweigen mitschuldig werden an der mangelnden
Aufklärung” (no. 50);“die Feinde der Kirche, … der Christusfeinde, … im Kampf gegen
die Verneiner und Vernichter des christlichen Abendlandes” (no. 51).

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THE SPANISH BISHOPS AND NAZISM DURING THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR

not help but ponder the question about a Nazi threat to Spanish
Catholicism and even view with suspicion the monotonous propaganda regarding the defense of the Church by Franco and his army,
when they were allied with a country persecuting Catholics.
Official censorship prevented these concerns from reaching the
public.25 This did not occur with the bishops, however. They were
able to consider these and other questions because the Vatican had
sent to Cardinal Isidro Gomá, its unofficial representative to Franco
since December 1936,26 copies of Mit brennender Sorge to be translated, sent to the prelates, and disseminated throughout the country
as widely as censorship would permit.27 In late April 1937, Gomá sent
two circulars to the bishops. The first, dated April 22, indicated that
they could publish Mit brennender Sorge in their newsletters, but “in
the current circumstances” it was best not to give it wider distribution. But on April 27, Gomá stated in Latin (for greater security) that
he did not advise publishing it even in church bulletins, because the
times were “extremely difficult and very dangerous.”28
Gomá told Cardinal Eugenio Pacelli, the Vatican secretary of state,
on April 24 that Franco had decreed the unification of political forces
on April 19 and that circulation of the encyclical should be delayed
because it “could serve as a pretext for censoring one of the members
of the union, the Spanish Falange, whose tendencies were more or
less similar to those of Hitler.”29 He worried that Mit brennender
25
Most of the press did not cover the encyclical. Gomá informed the Vatican that
only Salamanca Radio had broadcast a report criticizing it on March 23, which was transcribed and printed on the following day in the Salamancan newspaper El Adelanto.
See Rodríguez, El Cardenal Gomá, p. 433; see also Archivo Gomá, Documentos de la
Guerra Civil. 4, Abril-Mayo 1937, ed. José Andrés-Gallego and Antón M. Pazos (Madrid,
2002–09), pp. 278–84 (hereafter cited as AG with volume and page numbers). See also
AG 5, Dispatch from Gomá’s office to Eugenio Pacelli,April 30, 1937, pp. 309–10.
26
Gomá also was the primate of Spain; the ceremonial head of the Spanish Church;
and, more important, president of the Committee of Metropolitans composed of the
country’s nine ecclesiastical provinces.Two recent publications about him focusing on
the period just before the Spanish Civil War are Miguel A. Dionisio Vivas, Isidro Gomá
ante la dictadura y la República: pensamiento político-religioso y acción pastoral
(Toledo, 2011); and Roberto Ceamanos Llorens, Isidro Gomà i Tomàs. De la Monarquía
a la República (1927–1936). Sociedad, política y religión (Saragossa, 2012).
27
AG 4:297. See also AG 5:17, 33–34, 71.
28
AG 5:210, 267:“Tempora etenim difficillissima sunt et valde periculosa.”
29
AG 5: Dispatch to Pacelli,April 24, 1937, p. 234:“podría servir de pretexto para censurar a uno de los componentes de la unión, Falange Española, de tendencia más o
menos hitleriana.”

BY SANTIAGO MARTÍNEZ SÁNCHEZ

511

Sorge would weaken the unity needed by Franco to win the war and
destroy the “anti-Spain.” It was a pragmatic tactic by Gomá. He preferred to win the war rather than seek an immediate lifting of the censorship of ideas against the Nazis in Spain.
However, in this report to Rome, Gomá did not mention that failing
to disseminate the encyclical with its strong message against Nazism
would allow the Nazi influence in Spain to grow. Instead, he stressed
once again, as he had since the beginning of the war, that he was satisfied with the “repeated declarations favorable to Catholicism” by
Franco and his promises to root out in Spain “Hitler’s pagan racism.”30
Rome gave no answer to Gomá’s recommendation to delay the publication of the encyclical, so that the bishops were free to proceed as
they wished.31
Before the encyclical, the Spanish bishops knew little about
Nazism, and the subject had received very little treatment in the episcopal bulletins.There were only a few such articles in the November
1936 bulletin of Vitoria. One mentioned the project to banish
Catholicism in Germany, and a second praised the revival of the
Church “in its heroic defense against the assaults of neo-paganism.”32
However, a brief piece in the “Variety” section of an episcopal bulletin
was quite different than a pastoral document from a Spanish bishop
condemning Nazism. Despite the pope’s statements about the situation in Germany, and despite the Reich’s position as an important ally
of Franco (and the danger that Nazism could spread throughout the
country), the Spanish bishops believed that what could most easily
repeat itself in Spain was the anti-Christian Russian experience, not
the German one. For evidence, they could point to the persecution of
the Church on the Republican side by the “communists”—the
common label for the Republicans, regardless of their ideas. Thus,
when Pius XI issued Mit brennender Sorge, the bishops did not feel
they had to sound the alarm in Spain against Nazism.
The correspondence of Gomá simply confirms that Germany and
its problems were far from the minds of the Spanish bishops. The
30
AG 5: Dispatch to Pacelli,April 24, 1937, and May 12, 1937, pp. 235, 402:“declaraciones reiteradas de catolicismo … el racismo pagano de forma hitleriana.” See also
Rodríguez, El Cardenal Gomá, p. 444.
31
AG 5: Pacelli to Isidro Gomá, May 13, 1937, p. 411.
32
Boletín Oficial del Obispado de Vitoria, November 1, 1936, pp. 494–97; and
November 15, 1936, pp. 507–08, here p. 507.

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THE SPANISH BISHOPS AND NAZISM DURING THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR

communications from the bishops confirm that they did not refer to
Nazism from the start of the war until March 1937. Only Monsignor
Luciano Pérez Platero, bishop of Segovia, said something about a possible German influence in the country. On March 13, 1937, he sent
Gomá a letter from a priest of his diocese, Andrés Herranz, “who is
perfectly aware of what is going on in Germany for having spent a
great deal of time there.”33 Herranz believed that after the war, many
Germans would come to Spain, and he wanted them to be Catholics.
In any case, his views on Nazism coincided with what Pius XI at that
time expressed as the vox populi:
However, it is necessary to prevent Protestants and national-socialists from
coming to Spain. The majority of the former are overwhelmingly liberal.
The latter are statists, rationalists, materialists, neo-pagans, atheists, usually
surreptitiously, rarely openly, and enemies of Christianity in general and
Catholicism in particular.34

It is possible that the Spanish prelates had the same ideas about
Nazism after reading the encyclical of Pius XI. However, none of them
said it was time for their flocks to know about it.Thirty bishops failed
to respond to Gomá’s circular of April 17 proposing a delay in the
publication of Mit brennender Sorge. The other ten were in agreement, but only Pla y Deniel supplied reasons. Regarding asking the
government for advice on the matter, he pointed out that a precedent
should not be set as to what could or could not be published in diocesan bulletins. Instead of publishing Mit brennender Sorge and annoying “the German officers who are presently in Spain,” the bishops
could touch on the warnings contained in the encyclical from time to
time.35 Gomá agreed and pointed out that in Spain “[the Encyclical’s]
teachings will soon be very applicable, depending on how things
develop.”36 The bishops concurred with Gomá that if it was published, friction with the Nationalists would occur. They also agreed
33
AG 4: Pérez Platero to Gomá, April 13, 1937, p. 193: “quien está perfectamente
enterado de las cosas de Alemania por haber pasado allí grandes temporadas.”
34
AG 4: Herranz to Pérez Platero, March 12, 1937, pp. 193–94:“Pues bien, es necesario vigilar para que no se metan protestantes y nacional-socialista[s], liberales en su
inmensa mayoría los primeros; estatistas, racionalistas, materialistas, neopaganos, ateos
y enemigos, pocas veces abiertos, casi siempre solapados, los segundos, del cristianismo
en general y particularmente del catolicismo.”
35
AG 5: Pla y Deniel to Gomá, May 3, 1937, pp. 336–37:“a los alemanes oficiales que
hay hoy en España.”
36
AG 5: Gomá to Pla y Deniel, May 6, 1937, p. 369:“pronto será muy aplicable esta
doctrina [de la encíclica], en la forma como van poniéndose las cosas.”

BY SANTIAGO MARTÍNEZ SÁNCHEZ

513

with Pla that such publication would create problems with their
German allies. But Pla’s stance gave more weight to the bishops’
authority than the pope’s, even though the danger was that many of
them might not say anything at all about a subject that could annoy
the rebels.
In any case, the papal warning against Nazism alerted the bishops
about risks other than communism. From spring 1937, Gomá began
alluding to the growing German influence in Franco’s Spain in his
reports to Rome.37 He also spoke publicly about the issue in the bishops’ collective letter (the emblematic text outlining the Spanish bishops’ vision on the Republican past, the war, and the future of Spain),
of which he was the editor.The letter was made public at the beginning of August 1937, although dated July 1, 1937. It justified the “noble
countenance of a national movement” to prevent a communist revolution, vaguely outlined such a revolution’s Republican origins, and
described the Republicans’ excesses during the war. The following
warning about the country’s future may not have registered with
readers of the time, because the extensive account of the anticlerical
and iconoclastic fury that had occurred in Spain has assumed first
importance, and because the language was somewhat enigmatic.
However, the quote is important, because it is the first official document by the bishops that indicates the lines that the New Spain
should not cross. It includes the adherence to the teaching of the
pope (although expressed in veiled terms):
We trust the wisdom of the leaders of the government, who will not want
to accept foreign molds for future configuration of the Spanish state, but
take into account the demands of the nation’s interior affairs and the path
marked by past centuries. . . . We would be the first to lament the irresponsible autocracy of a parliament being replaced by the more terrible
one of a dictatorship whose roots are not of our nation. We cling to the
legitimate hope that it will not be so.38
37

AG 6: Dispatches to Pacelli, June 25–26, 1937, pp. 218–26, 233–35; see Rodríguez,
El Cardenal Gomá, pp. 457–58. See also AG 6: Letter to Cardinal Eustaquio Ilundain,
June 30, 1937, pp. 265–66.
38
“Collective Letter of the Spanish Bishops,” Boletín Vitoria,August 15, 1937, dating
pp. 314, 321:“Confiamos en la prudencia de los hombres de gobierno, que no querrán
aceptar moldes extranjeros para la configuración del Estado español futuro, sino que
tendrán en cuenta las exigencias de la vida íntima nacional y la trayectoria marcada por
los siglos pasados. … Seríamos los primeros en lamentar que la autocracia irresponsable
de un parlamento fuese sustituida por la más terrible de una dictadura desarraigada de
la nación.Abrigamos la esperanza legítima de que no será así.”

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THE SPANISH BISHOPS AND NAZISM DURING THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR

They were not referring to communism, against which the “wisdom
of the leaders of the government” was fighting. If parliamentary liberalism also had to be excluded, what Gomá and the Spanish bishops
rejected was German fascism and its “terrible dictatorship” as damaging to the nation and the Church. Thus, the only public reference in
Spain to Mit brennender Sorge a few months after it was written was
the letter’s comment about the incompatibility between the Spanish
history and “foreign molds” that would bring “a terrible dictatorship.”
Faced with this reluctant reception, it is understandable that the
Vatican would want to accelerate the publication of the encyclical in
Spain; in fact, the long road to its publication cannot be understood
without recognizing the role of the Vatican. Warning Catholics about
Nazism became a priority of Vatican diplomacy in Spain.
In summer 1937, several factors moved the Holy See to mend its
diplomatic estrangement with Franco’s Spain: first, the military
actions against Basque nationalist priests arrested in Guipuzcoa intensified when Bilbao, the capital of Vizcaya, fell on June 19, 1937.39 In
addition, a Vatican diplomat would judge more impartially than Gomá
the old question of full diplomatic recognition, which Gomá had been
demanding unsuccessfully. Finally, such a Vatican representative also
could better assess the danger of the Nazi influence in Spain that
Gomá had started to denounce.
The diplomat chosen was Monsignor Ildebrando Antoniutti. Born
in 1898, he had held various diplomatic posts in China and Portugal.
He was serving as the Vatican’s apostolic delegate in Albania on July
15, 1937, when Pacelli called him to Rome. He received instructions
and read a report on the religious and political situation in the Basque
Country, which was the geographic destination of his mission. He
arrived in Nationalist Spain on July 27.40
39

About this issue, see Sánchez Erauskin, Por Dios, pp. 91–107, 135–59; Alberto de
Onaindía, Hombre de paz en la Guerra. Capítulos de mi vida I (Buenos Aires, 1973),
pp. 97–123; Santiago Martínez, “Mons. Antoniutti y el clero nacionalista vasco (juliooctubre 1937),” Sancho el Sabio, 27 (2007), 39–79.
40
On the activities and thought of Antoniutti and Pacelli in relation to the Nazi influence in Spain, see Santiago Martínez Sánchez,“El episcopado español ante la encíclica
Mit brennender Sorge, 1937–1938,” Nuevos horizontes del pasado. Culturas poíticas,
identidades y formas de representación, ed. Ángeles Barrio Alonso, Jorge de Hoyos
Puente, and Rebeca Saavedra Arias (Santander, 2011), http://www.ahistcon.org/docs/
Santander/contenido/indice-mesa6.html.

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515

Franco received him some days later. Common themes in the meetings of the two men were the Nazi influence in Spain and the clergy
accused of Basque nationalism. Franco tended to reiterate what he
had said on July 31, 1937, the first time they met—the current racist
theories in Germany “would not be permitted among us,” but it was
impossible to “thoroughly mount a campaign against such doctrines”
during the war because the Germans were needed to win the war.41
As Franco said to Antoniutti on October 7, 1937, was it not sufficient
that he had forced the replacement of the German ambassador,
Wilhelm Faupel, who had wanted to infect the Falange with the Nazi
ideology?42
But neither that fact nor Franco’s argument that the Spanish
press did not praise Nazi ideology, but rather Germany as a nation
and ally, convinced the secretary of state. Pacelli wanted Antoniutti
to remind Franco that the Nazi ideology was essentially antiChristian and that its leader was a fierce persecutor of the Church
who, as he stated to a politician, would “sink her into ignominy and
the shame.” 43 When Antoniutti transmitted this message on
November 22, 1937, Franco said:
Our traditions and our civilization are essentially opposed to that of
Germany, with which we have no sympathy at all. Nazism has a pagan program; we have another, a Catholic one. Spain must be Catholic according
to her traditions and the teachings of the Church. Believe me, I say this
with the deepest possible conviction.44

At the meeting, Antoniutti handed him a copy of Mit brennender
Sorge and suggested that it be released publicly in Spain. However, he
was talking to a ruler eager to please both the Vatican and Germany.
The efforts of Gomá and Antoniutti only came to fruition in January
1938 after a cascade of complaints to Franco and the head of his diplomatic cabinet, José Antonio de Sangroniz, in fall 1937. Antoniutti had
protested against incidents of press bias such as reports praising
41

Martínez,“Mons.Antoniutti,” p. 45.
Archivio Segreto Vaticano [hereafter referred to as ASV], Nunziatura Madrid [hereafter referred to as NM], box 968, fasc. 6, fol. 558,Antoniutti to Pacelli, October 11, 1937.
43
Martínez,“El episcopado español,” p. 7.
44
Martínez, “El episcopado español,” p. 7: “La nostra tradizione e la nostra civiltà
sono essenzialmente opposte a quelle germaniche, per i quali non abbiamo simpatie. Il
nazismo ha un programma pagano: noi abbiamo un programma cattolico. La Spagna
dovrà essere cattolica secondo le sue tradizioni e gli insegnamenti della Chiesa.
Credetemi che lo dico con la più profonda convinzione.”
42

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THE SPANISH BISHOPS AND NAZISM DURING THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR

Germany and criticizing the Holy See, the lack of press attention to
speeches of Pius XI, and press accounts of an exhibition of German
books in Salamanca.45 The Jesuit magazine Razón y fé (Reason and
Faith) received permission to publish the encyclical. Significantly, that
permission coincided with the establishment of Franco’s first government on January 30, 1938.That government was supposed to coordinate state affairs, to embody the idea of political normalization and the
unity of the groups that had joined forces in April 1937. The permission for the encyclical’s publication should not be seen as an example
of Franco’s Catholicism. Rather, this move seems to have occurred to
advance the normalization of diplomatic relations with the Vatican and
was viewed as unlikely to provoke substantial German protests.
Without asking for permission to publish the encyclical in other
venues, Gomá told the bishops on February 4 that they now could
reproduce it in their diocesan bulletins. He noted,“Its publication can
be of great edification for many souls, especially the leaders of public
opinion at the present time.”46 Gomá, who knew very well that the
encyclical’s appearance in the bulletins “would not reach the attention of the public,”47 did not indicate to the bishops that they read or
explain the encyclical to the faithful.
Only two bishops responded to his letter. The first was Cardinal
Pedro Segura, who had endured a forced exile in Rome from 1931 to
1937; his episcopate in Seville had begun in October 1937. Segura preferred not to publish the encyclical “in order not to create difficulties.”
Although he did not believe that it would have any influence over the
authorities or edify souls, as Gomá believed, he would do whatever
was suggested.48 To the other bishop, Tomás Gutiérrez of Osma, it
seemed that the matter was not an urgent one and that “at least
around here” its publication would “cause bewilderment.”49 The rest
of the prelates, whether or not they agreed with the publication of
the encyclical in their diocesan newsletters, offered no explanation to
the cardinal of Toledo.
45

Martínez,“El episcopado español,” p. 8.
AG 9: Letter to bishops, February 4, 1938, p. 245:“con ello, además, puede hacerse
gran bien a las almas, sobre todo a los dirigentes de la pública opinión, en los actuales
momentos.”
47
AG 9: Gomá to Segura, February 20, 1938, p. 347:“no transciende al pueblo.”
48
AG 9: Segura to Gomá, February 15, 1938, pp. 311–12:“por no crear dificultades.”
49
AG 9: Gutiérrez to Gomá, February 17, 1938, p. 323:“al menos por aquí, causaría
extrañeza.”
46

BY SANTIAGO MARTÍNEZ SÁNCHEZ

517

The details of the chronological appearance of Mit brennender
Sorge in the newsletters of 1938–39 appear in appendix A. Twenty
dioceses incorporated into Franco’s Spain in the final months of the
war are not included,50 as their bulletins had been suspended during
the Civil War and, once resumed, did not contain the encyclicals of
Pius XI dated 1936 and later. Apart from these dioceses, there were
still another forty, thirty of which did reproduce the encyclical in
1938. Nine dioceses did not publish Mit brennender Sorge: Burgos,
Canarias, Ibiza, Jaca, Orense, Santander, Sigüenza, Tenerife, and
Valladolid.51 The Republicans imprisoned Anselmo Polanco, bishop of
Teruel-Albarracín, and the bulletin of his diocese was not published
during this time.
Publication of Divini Redemptoris and Mit brennender Sorge
occurred within eight months, except for certain newsletters that
experienced a substantial delay.52 From this point of view, the Spanish
bishops faithfully communicated papal teaching without distinctions
of the issues addressed by Pius XI. As previously stated, the events in
Spain prompted them to share his teaching about communism more
urgently. On the other hand, the bishops’ experience with Republican
anticlericalism could have been a factor that caused nine dioceses to
refrain from issuing the encyclical against Nazism.
50

These were the Dioceses of Almería, Barcelona, Cartagena, Ciudad Real, Cuenca,
Gerona, Guadix, Jaén, Madrid-Alcalá, Menorca, Orihuela, Segorbe, Solsona, Tarragona,
Urgel, Valencia (where there was a special issue on February 18, 1939), and Vich. The
Diocese of Lérida restarted its bulletin on May 31, 1938; the Diocese of Barbastro did
likewise in September 1938. The Diocese of Tortosa published two special issues on
April 30, 1938, and December 1, 1938. None of these three latter diocesan newsletters
published the encyclical.
51
Álvarez Bolado states that it was published in twenty-five dioceses (the actual
number was 30) and that “it was not published in Burgos, the seat of the Nationalist government, or Valladolid, the ‘blue city’”; see Álvarez Bolado, Para ganar la Guerra, p.
264. Giuliana Di Febo and Renato Moro share his analysis in “¿Estado católico o estado
totalitario? Iglesia, España e Italia (1937–1938),” in Historia, política y cultura.
Homenaje a Javier Tusell, coord. Juan Avilés Farré (Madrid, 2009), p. 50. The fact that
Burgos was the capital of Nationalist Spain might have brought some pressure to bear
on its bishop, although evidence confirming this theory is lacking. However,Valladolid’s
place as the “Blue City” had little influence on its bishop’s decision not to publish
Divini Redemptoris or Mit brennender Sorge.
52
For Divini Redemptoris, the bulletins were those of Orense and Santander in
March 1938. Mit brennender Sorge appeared in the Osma bulletin in December 1938.
In other words, the clergy of Nationalist Spain knew, via diocesan bulletins, the papal
teaching on communism within eleven months and within twelve the teaching on
Nazism.

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THE SPANISH BISHOPS AND NAZISM DURING THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR

A content analysis of the bulletins suggests possible reasons for this
situation.The bulletin of Orense was sparing in publishing papal documents. In addition, this bulletin does not display a pattern of swift
dissemination of information, given that Divini Redemptoris was
published a year late. But it seems problematic to accuse Orense
Bishop Florentino Cervino of totalitarian sympathies when he had
ordered the publication of Segura’s pastoral letter protesting the
state’s absorption of Catholic religious associations in the bulletin of
January 14, 1938, and the letter of the Vatican congregation to the
rector of the Catholic Institute of Paris condemning the erroneous
claims of Nazi racism.53
In Burgos, Archbishop Manuel de Castro Alonso refused to publish
Mit brennender Sorge, but the inclusion of two documents in the diocese’s official gazette is significant. These were the pastoral instructions of Gomá against the absorption of Catholic students into the
Spanish Union of Falangist University Students (SEU), and the German
episcopate’s joint pastoral letter on the Nazi persecution of the
Church in Germany.54 As the archbishop resided in Burgos—the capital of Franco’s state—some might theorize that he may have wished
to avoid government pressure and leave the encyclical unpublished
(there is no documentary evidence on the subject). However, such
reasoning does not follow, for he published the two other documents
that were equally critical of the Spanish government or contradicted
the official propaganda on the friendliness between the Reich and the
Catholic Church.
José Eguino, bishop of Santander, resumed publication of his diocesan bulletin in November 1937, just a few months after the rebel capture of the capital in August 1937. His irregularly published newsletter, only a few pages long, contained a summary of Divini
Redemptoris but nothing on Mit brennender Sorge. Given the anticlerical vandalism in Republican Santander during the war, it is easy
to see the bishop’s publication decision influenced by that rather
than a distant fascism.
It is difficult to assess the influences on Hilario Yeben, the diocesan
administrator of Sigüenza. Eustaquio Nieto y Martín, bishop of
53

Boletín Orense, March 3, 1938, pp. 53–59; and November 14, 1938, pp. 296–97.
Boletín Eclesiástico del Arzobispado de Burgos, June 6, 1938, pp. 103–11; and
December 24, 1938, pp. 244–58.
54

BY SANTIAGO MARTÍNEZ SÁNCHEZ

519

Sigüenza, had been killed in the early days of the war, and part of the
diocese lay in Republican territory. Divini Redemptoris was published piecemeal in the bulletin from April 21 to September 30, 1937;
the collective letter of the Spanish episcopate was finally published
on December 13. Yeben’s choice, however, in publishing an October
1937 encyclical on the rosary in 1938—rather than the previous
encyclical condemning Nazism—may suggest a view of the latter’s
concerns as remote.
The clergy on the Canary Islands and Tenerife knew nothing of the
encyclical on Nazism through the ecclesiastic bulletins. Moreover,
Antonio Victor Pildáin y Zapiáin, bishop of the Canary Islands, cited
Divini Redemptoris but not Mit brennender Sorge in the editorial
“The Pope Has Died.”This editorial, which included writings of Pius
XI, was signed by Pildáin and appeared in February 1939.The bishop,
who avoided refering to Nazism, was more cautious than Juan Alonso
Vega. The latter, a professor in the seminary, did speak about the
encyclical in his funeral eulogy for Pius XI in the cathedral of Las
Palmas.55 Perhaps Pildáin’s caution could be attributed to his experience as a new bishop in 1936, when Franco’s government accused
him of Basque nationalism.56
As noted previously, eight of the forty Spanish bishops instructed
their priests to explain Divini Redemptoris to the people.The press
had disseminated the encyclical, but these bishops wanted to ensure
its explanation in their churches. With regard to Mit brennender
Sorge, none of the thirty who published it instructed the clergy to
read it or explain it at Mass—the usual custom with papal documents.
Every priest was to decide for himself whether or not to inform their
parishioners of the papal teachings that had been silenced by the
press.57 The lack of guidance was a prudent way to avoid clashes with
the Falangist authorities, who could have denounced parish priests
55

Boletín Oficial Eclesiástico de la Diócesis de Canarias, February 1939, pp. 58–61,
64–78. The biographical sketches on Pildáin do not shed any light on this issue; see
Agustín Chil Estévez, Pildain. Un obispo para una época (Las Palmas, 1987); and
Gabriel de Armas, Pildain. Obispo de Canarias: biografía inacabada (Las Palmas,
1976).
56
See Onaindía, Hombre de paz, pp. 64–67, 73–74; and Redondo, Historia de la
Iglesia, 2:293–95.
57
Further studies are needed on this issue, but a case can be made that censorship
and official propaganda (on the government side) and silence (on the clerical side)
caused the general ignorance of Spaniards about the papal rejection of Nazism.

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THE SPANISH BISHOPS AND NAZISM DURING THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR

for reading a text that contradicted the official version of the German
ally or for associating Nazism with the Falangists.The bishops agreed
to issue the encyclical, but did not order its disclosure to the faithful
so that the cordial relationship with the civil authorities could be
maintained.
It is impossible to argue that publishing the encyclical but not
explaining it was part of a pact between Gomá and Franco or the
latter’s government.The opposite had occurred in Germany. Although
the bishops had been unable to release officially the encyclical, it was
read in the 11,500 Catholic parishes around Germany, intensifying an
anti-Catholic persecution that did not at that time exist in Spain.With
the exception of some of the Basque clergy, bishops did not express
the thought that Franco was persecuting the Church in Spain. Such an
action was something done by the “communists.”
Naturally, the intention of the Holy See and its chargé d’affaires,
Antoniutti, was to disseminate the encyclical’s contents among ordinary people in Nationalist Spain. It is unknown if Antoniutti pressed
Gomá to communicate this intention to the prelates; such a move
would be logical if the Vatican felt that Franco intended to honor the
guarantees given to Antoniutti on the cultural, ideological, and religious differences between Spain and Germany.
4. New Documents on Nazism, 1938 and 1939
Spanish ecclesiastical bulletins greeted Mit brennender Sorge with
the same lack of enthusiasm given to the following papal documents
published in their pages between 1936 and 1939: Ad catholici sacerdotii (on the priesthood, December 22, 1935); Vigilanti cura
(addressed to the North American bishops on the film industry, June
29, 1936); and Ingravescentibus malis (on the rosary, September 29,
1937). Despite the lukewarm reception to Mit brennender Sorge in
Spain, the Holy See urged the Spanish bishops to disseminate at least
some of the following documents that pertained to Nazi ideology or
the Church’s situation in Germany.
First was the letter that the Congregation of Seminaries and
Universities (headed at that time by Pius XI himself) published in
Rome on April 13, 1938. The letter, sent to Cardinal Alfred-HenryMarie Baudrillart, rector of the Catholic Institute of Paris, appeared on
the front page of L’Osservatore Romano on May 3, 1938, during

BY SANTIAGO MARTÍNEZ SÁNCHEZ

521

Hitler’s trip to Rome.58 The Vatican wanted academics and Catholic
universities to support the “Instructions to Catholic Colleges and
Universities to Defend the Truth against False Claims of Germanic
Racism.”The document detailed eight “abhorrent”propositions regarding the Nazi idolatry of race, the state, and the neo-pagan pantheism,
to which “others can easily be added.”59
The second document was “On the Situation of the Catholic
Church in Germany,” the collective pastoral letter of the German episcopate dated August 19, 1938. The bishops lamented the “methodical
and ruthless demolition” that wanted to eradicate the Catholic
Church and even Christianity in Germany and the Austrian lands
annexed to the Reich and “introduce a faith that has nothing to do
with true divine faith and the Christian faith.” The letter, which did not
condemn Nazi racism, clearly spoke of the “German Calvary” suffered
by the Catholic Church. The bishops reminded the faithful of their
duty to obey the state “in all things lawful,” but also warned that they
should obey God rather than men.60 The pastoral letter of the bishops
stressed the patriotism of German Catholics and praised the “heroic
struggle” of Spain’s Catholics against the “Bolshevik Antichrist.” The
letter does not criticize the government or the Nazis as Mit brennender Sorge had done, nor does it present an expectation of truce or
agreement with the authorities. Nazism was not defined in a comprehensive way, but the reference to Spain illustrated the right of
Catholics to resist attacks on their faith.
Sometime in summer or autumn 1938, the Vatican charged Gomá
with the translation and dissemination of this document in Spain.The
primate hesitated. He agreed that “our Catholics should know what’s
going on in Germany in order to be on guard and keep themselves
immune to any possible unhealthy influence,” but he feared the reac58
George Passelecq and Bernard Suchecky, The Hidden Encyclical of Pius XI (New
York, 1997), pp. 113–15.
59
Boletín Calahorra, November 23, 1938, pp. 259–60:“Instrucciones a las universidades y facultades católicas para defender la verdad contra las afirmaciones erróneas
del racismo germánico”; “[ocho proposiciones] detestables … [a las que] fácilmente
podrán añadirse otras.”
60
Documentation Catholique, 39, nº 880, September 20, 1938, pp. 1103–13. The
quotes are from Boletín Oficial Eclesiástico de las diócesis de Tarazona y Tudela,
January 15, 1939, pp. 20, 26:“‘Sobre la situación de la Iglesia Católica en Alemania’; el
trabajo de demolición metódica y sin escrúpulos; introducir una fe que nada tiene que
ver con la verdadera fe divina y con la fe cristiana; calvario alemán; en toda cosa lícita.”

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THE SPANISH BISHOPS AND NAZISM DURING THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR

tion of Franco’s government.61 Part of his decision to push the publishing of the encyclical was as a form of protest against the seizure
of Catholic publications in early November 1938 by the interior minister, Ramón Serrano Suñer.62 By then, the cardinal did not believe that
either Franco or Serrano would admit their apprehensions about the
Nazi influence in Spain.63
Two pastoral letters by German bishops also were published in a
handful of bulletins. Spanish ecclesiastical bulletins rarely inserted pastoral letters from foreign bishops on events affecting the life of the
Church in other countries. A summary of both appeared on February
18 and 21, 1939, in L’Osservatore Romano. Cardinal Pedro Segura of
Seville published the full translations in his bulletin, and other Spanish
bishops reprinted these in their own bulletins. They were the Lenten
pastoral letters of Conrad Gröber, archbishop of Freiburg, and Cardinal
Karl Schulte, archbishop of Cologne. Both reflected the ideas of the collective pastoral letter of Fulda from August 1938, but Schulte went even
further—he cited the Spanish Church,“which these days is just emerging from a most cruel persecution,”64 to encourage Catholic resistance
to a Nazism that he did not identify specifically. Like these German
prelates, the bishops who echoed their teachings in Spain also had
reason to think that communism was not the Church’s only enemy.
Other bishops also echoed the sentiments in Blas Goñi’s article “The
Totalitarian States” that had been published in the newspaper El
Pensamiento Navarro on February 27, 1938. Citing Pius XI and the
German bishops, Goñi (one of Pamplona’s cathedral canons) thought
that the Catholic magisterium rejected the totalitarian rule of the state
over society, an idea that contained a “grave error” and that had been
spreading “without restriction” in Franco’s Spain “for several months
now.”65 It is strange that the article managed to escape the censors at
61
AG 12: Modrego to Gomá, November 3, 1938, p. 185:“nuestros católicos sepan lo
que se cuece en Alemania para estar en guardia o inmunizarse contra toda posible malsana influencia.”
62
AG 12: Gomá to Modrego, October 29, 1938, p. 150; and November 8, 1938, p. 206.
63
AG 11: Letters from Gomá to Serrano and Franco, July 4, 1938, pp. 38–39; and July
5, 1938, pp. 115–17.
64
Boletín Oficial Eclesiástico de la Archidiócesis de Sevilla, March 15, 1939, p. 153:
“que precisamente estos días está saliendo de una crudelísima persecución.”
65
Boletín Tarazona, December 23, 1938, pp. 507–08:“idea que encerraba un ‘grave
error’ y que se divulgaba ‘en absoluto y sin restricción alguna’ en la España nacional
‘desde hace algunos meses.’”

BY SANTIAGO MARTÍNEZ SÁNCHEZ

523

the time. It first appeared in the bulletin of Málaga in June 1938, including references to its original place and date of publication.This information disappeared from subsequent reprintings in other newsletters.
Appendix B shows the inclusion of these documents in church bulletins in Franco-controlled territory by date of publication, starting with
instructions on Germanic racism from April 1938. This information
sheds light on the sensitivity of the different bishops with regard to the
Church in Germany. They also are useful in assessing the possible suspicions of the bishops over the risk that Spain could slide into a situation similar to Germany’s.Thirty-five of the forty dioceses in the territory ruled by Franco since the beginning of the war published some
kind of material related to Nazism, especially in the final stages of the
Civil War. There were five dioceses that avoided the issue: Canarias,
Santander, and Mallorca, which were governed by their respective residential bishops (Pildáin, José Eguino Trecu, and José Miralles); and two
headed by a diocesan administrator (Ibiza and Sigüenza).66
Neither Mit brennender Sorge nor any of these other documents
were published in the diocesan bulletins of Canarias, Santander, and
Sigüenza.The clergy from these dioceses did not learn anything from
their bishops during the Civil War about these anti-Nazi sentiments. It
seems clear that their bishops were reluctant to air material critical of
or hostile to Nazism. In the case of Santander and Sigüenza, it is possible that their leaders were simply worried about the anticlericalism
and religious persecution that had afflicted the two dioceses during
the Civil War. Pildáin, newly arrived in the Canary Islands in spring
1937, may have wished to avoid actions that could be regarded as evidence of his supposed pro-Basque sympathies.
For episcopal bulletins in former Republican areas, hardly any documents on Nazism or the situation of the Church in Germany appear
in their pages. Only five of twenty dioceses in this territory released
the letter from the Congregation of Seminaries and Universities in
April 1938 (see appendix C).67
66

Teruel is not included because its bulletin was not published in 1938 or 1939.
There is no reference in the bulletins for Barbastro, Barcelona, Cartagena, Ciudad
Real, Madrid-Alcalá, Menorca, Orihuela, Solsona, Tarragona, Tortosa, and Urgell. Starting
in May 1939, the Dioceses of Almería, Jaén, and Guadix received the bulletin of the
Archdiocese of Granada, in which nothing appeared after that date.The author has no
data for Segorbe. In short, the dioceses that suffered the violence of Republican anticlericalism did not relate ecclesiastical concerns to Nazism.
67

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THE SPANISH BISHOPS AND NAZISM DURING THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR

Cardinal Segura led the publication of this wave of documents,
warning against a dangerous trend that he saw as incompatible with
the Spanish Catholic tradition.68 His view was consistent with that of
Gomá and the Vatican. As Segura had been sent into exile by the
Republican government in 1931, the Spanish bishops regarded him as
an icon of anticlerical resistance, but did not unanimously agree with
his criticisms of the war period. After publishing Mit brennender
Sorge and these other documents in 1938 and 1939, the churchmen
who ruled the dioceses in Franco’s Spain communicated their fears to
the clergy on the possible influence of Nazism into their country, thus
making the Vatican’s vigilant concern their own.
The press broke the news of the signing in Burgos of the SpanishGerman Cultural Agreement on January 24, 1939, exacerbating this
concern in the Spanish and Roman churches.69 Pacelli did not mince
words on January 26 when communicating to the nuncio, Gaetano
Cicognani, that the agreement would “further concerns about the
future organization of the Church in Spain.”70 On January 29, Pacelli
emphasized to the Spanish ambassador, José de Yanguas Messia, the
pope’s belief about the “evil that the Agreement would cause to religion in Spain.” He lamented that the Spanish government had ignored
previous complaints about the “Nazi infiltration in Spain,” maintained
a misguided position that such infiltration was passing and
“inevitable,” and erroneously believed that the assistance of the Reich
was necessary during the war, but “afterwards everything would come
to an end.” With bitterness, Pacelli made it clear that “an agreement
had been signed that was not political, but cultural, for an indefinite
period of time, and with the express intention of expanding relations
between the two countries.”71
68
See Santiago Martínez Sánchez, Los papeles perdidos del cardenal Segura,
1880–1957 (Pamplona, 2004), pp. 452–61. Francisco Gil Delgado wrongly indicates
that only Segura and Bishop Fidel García of Calahorra published it; see Gil Delgado,
Pedro Segura. Un cardenal de fronteras (Madrid, 2001), pp. 323–24.
69
Following the news of the cultural agreement, half of the ecclesiastical bulletins
(twenty-one out of forty) reproduced some of the four documents on Nazism previously cited.
70
ASV,Affari Ecclesiastici Straordinari [hereafter referred to as AES], Spagna, fasc. 339,
fol. 19: “nuove preoccupazioni circa la futura organizzazione della Chiesa in
Spagna.”
71
ASV, AES, Spagna, fasc. 339, fol. 23. See Marquina, La diplomacia vaticana, pp.
146–48: “ma che non fino a meno di venire de tale Accordo alla condizione religiosa
della Spagna”; “infiltrazione nazista in Spagna”; “una conseguenza inevitabile”; “dopo,
tutto sarebbe finito”;“ora invece si conclude un Accordo non politico, ma culturale, e a

BY SANTIAGO MARTÍNEZ SÁNCHEZ

525

It was a good summary of two years of Vatican misgivings about
possible Nazi influence in Spain. The archbishops of Toledo and
Seville—the two Spanish cardinals resident in Spain at the time—fully
endorsed these Roman warnings and tried to steer the other Spanish
bishops in that direction. Segura and Gomá claimed that the other
bishops did not seem to treat the threat of the German influence as
seriously as Rome did. Segura emphatically and publicly objected to
the treaty when he warned Catholics in the cathedral of Seville, in one
of his Lenten conferences on March 24, 1939, to “[b]eware of cultural
exchanges! . . . Let us ask the Lord to free us from all these dangers.”72
The Vatican and Gomá, through pressure and diplomatic complaints,
ensured that the treaty was not ratified.73
It was just then that the rebels were on the point of winning the
Civil War in which German military support had been decisive.The
tensions surrounding the cultural agreement, however, are eloquent
regarding the absence of unity on the victorious side. They show
that the Catholic hierarchy would accept neither the ideological
guidance of the allied nation nor Falangist hegemony in the administration of the military victory and the construction of the “New
Spain.” These frictions hid a dispute regarding the model of the state
and the role of the Church in the country. The problems between
the Falange and the Church did not end with the Civil War, but
endured during Spain’s alliance with Germany during World War

tempo indefinito, anzi colla espressa intenzione di estendere eventualmente ancor più
tali rapporti tra i due Paesi.”
72
Martínez, Los papeles perdidos, p. 466: “¡Mucho cuidado con los intercambios
culturales! … Pidamos al Señor que nos libre de todos estos peligros.” Segura and
Gomá were the only resident cardinals in Spain at the time.After the Civil War, Franco
did not allow Cardinal Francisco Vidal y Barraquer, archbishop of Tarragona, to return
to Spain from Italy. He was declared persona non grata because of his attempt to reconcile the Republic and Catholicism (as ordered by the Vatican), his opposition to the
July 1937 Collective Letter of the Spanish Bishops, and his position as a Catalan
nationalist. His ideas were far from the rigid traditionalism of Segura and Gomá. His
diplomatic attitude toward the Republican authorities, his conception of a Spain with
less central authority, and his desire to keep the Church independent from Francoism
during the Spanish Civil War caused many problems between himself and the military. See Ramon Muntanyola, Vidal i Barraquer. El cardenal de la paz (Barcelona,
1974); and Josep Maria Tarragona, Vidal i Barraquer. De la República al Franquisme
(Barcelona, 1998).
73
See Marquina, La diplomacia vaticana, pp. 142–53 and 439–48, where he discusses how the agreement ended the Vatican’s willingness to accept the validity of the
Concordat of 1851 claimed by Franco’s diplomatic representatives.

526

THE SPANISH BISHOPS AND NAZISM DURING THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR

II.74 That is a different story, although one very much related to the
story presented here.

74

Among other works on the issue, see Mercedes Montero, Historia de la
Asociación Católica Nacional de Propagandistas. La construcción del Estado
Confesional, 1936–1945 (Pamplona, 1993), pp. 187–215; Francisco Verdera, Conflictos
entre la Iglesia y el Estado en España. La revista “Ecclesia” entre 1941 y 1945
(Pamplona, 1995); Andrés-Gallego, ¿Fascismo o Estado Católico?, pp. 193–219. On the
problem of Bishop García with Francoism resulting from the publication of his March
1942 pastoral letter against Nazism, see Antonio Arizmendi and Patricio de Blas
Zabaleta, Conspiración contra el obispo de Calahorra. Denuncia y crónica de una
canallada (Madrid, 2008), pp. 194–200. On the tensions between bishops and the government resulting from the control and orientation of the education in the period of
time directly after the war, see Gregorio Cámara Villar, Nacional-Catolicismo y Escuela.
La Socialización Política del Franquismo, 1936–1951 (Jaén, 1984), pp. 118–37.

BY SANTIAGO MARTÍNEZ SÁNCHEZ

527

APPENDIX A.The publication of Mit brennender Sorge
in Spanish dioceses (by date)
Diocese

Bishop or other official Bulletin date

Toledo
CalahorraLa Calzada
Oviedo

Isidro Gomá
Fidel García

Coria
Saragossa
Badajoz
Mallorca
León
Plasencia
Ávila
Segovia
Ciudad Rodrigo
Huesca
Pamplona
Seville
Astorga
Santiago
Lugo
Vitoria
Palencia
Cádiz-Ceuta
Zamora
Tarazona y Tudela
Córdoba
Málaga
Tuy

Francisco Quintana,
diocesan administrator
Francisco Barbado
Rigoberto Domenech
José Mª Alcaraz
José Miralles
Carmelo Ballester
Feliciano Rocha
Santos Moro
Luciano Pérez Platero
Manuel López Arana,
apostolic administrator
Lino Rodrigo
Marcelino Olaechea
Pedro Segura
Antonio Senso
Tomás Muniz
Rafael Balanzá
Javier Lauzurica,
apostolic administrator
Manuel González
Eugenio Domaica,
diocesan administrator
Manuel Arce

Granada
Mondoñedo

Nicanor Mutiloa
Adolfo Pérez
Balbino Santos
Antonio García,
apostolic administrator
Agustín Parrado
Benjamín de Arriba

Salamanca
Osma

Enrique Pla y Deniel
Tomás Gutiérrez

January 15, 1938
February 21,1938; March 14,
1938
February 28, 1938; March 31,
1938
February 1938
March 1, 1938; March 16, 1938
March 15, 1938
March 15, 1938
March 18, 1938
March 18, 1938
March 25, 1938
March 30, 1938
March 30, 1938
March 1938
April 1, 1938
April 1, 1938;April 15, 1938;
May 15, 1938; June 1, 1938;
July 15, 1938;August 8, 1938
April 9, 1938; May 2, 1938
April 15, 1938; May 15, 1938
April 16, 1938
May 1, 1938
May 2, 1938; May 14, 1938;
June 1, 1938; July 1, 1938; July
13, 1938; September 1, 1938
May 15, 1938; June 10, 1938;
June 20, 1938
May 23, 1938; June 15, 1938;
June 30, 1938; July 16, 1938
May 25, 1938
May 25,1938; July 1, 1938
May, June, July 1938
June 25, 1938
July 1, 1938
August 20, 1938; September
20, 1938; November 20, 1938;
January 15, 1939;April 5,
1939; May 1, 1939
August 26, 1938
December 1, 1938; December
22, 1938

Collective pastoral
letter of the
German episcopate

Seville

September 15, 1938

January 1, 1939

Plasencia
Saragossa
Málaga
Granada
Lugo
Tuy
Orense
Toledo
Santiago
Pamplona
Oviedo

October 15, 1938
October 17, 1938
October, 1938
November 1, 1938
November 2, 1938
November 4, 1938
November 14, 1938
November 15, 1938
November 15, 1938
November 15, 1938
November 15, 1938

March 16, 1939
December 16, 1938
April 1939

Palencia

November 17, 1938

Astorga
Calahorra
Huesca
Cádiz-Ceuta
Zamora

November 21, 1938
November 23, 1938
November 1938
December 7, 1938
December 3, 1938

Pastoral letters by
German bishops

Pensamiento Navarro

March 1, 1939, Freiburg
March 15, 1939, Cologne
November 2, 1938
June 1938

February 16, 1939
December 22, 1938
November 15, 1938
January 15, 1939
January 1, 1939
February 15, 1939;
February 28, 1939
April 28, 1939

April 15, 1939, Cologne
May 30, 1939, Freiburg
July 5, 1939, Freiburg

February 14, 1939
December 23, 1938

June 7, 1939, Freiburg

February 13, 1939;
February 25, 1939

November 15, 1938

January 1, 1939

THE SPANISH BISHOPS AND NAZISM DURING THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR

Diocese

Instructions against
Germanic racism

528

APPENDIX B.Appearance of foreign pastoral letters and similar documents in diocesan bulletins in Franco’s territory

APPENDIX B. (continued)

León
Vitoria
Córdoba
Salamanca
Ibiza
Jaca

December 12, 1938
December 15, 1938
December 20, 1938
December 31, 1938
November–December, 1938
January 1, 1939

Badajoz
Segovia
Tarazona
y Tudela
Mondoñedo
Tenerife
Burgos
Valladolid

January 9, 1939
January 30, 1939

Collective pastoral
letter of the
Pastoral letters by
German episcopate German bishops
December 12, 1938
December 15, 1938
February 1939
February 28, 1939
January 1, 1939;
March 3, 1939

August 14, 1939, Freiburg

December 23, 1938
January–February 1939

December 24, 1938
January 10, 1939;
March 7, 1939
February 10, 1939;
March 31, 1939
February 18, 1939
February 1939
24

August 22, 1939, Freiburg
10

6

529

Ávila
Coria
Ciudad Rodrigo
Total times published 29

July 9, 1939, Freiburg

August 16, 1939, Freiburg

January 1939
February 15, 1939
January–February 1939

Osma

Pensamiento Navarro

BY SANTIAGO MARTÍNEZ SÁNCHEZ

Diocese

Instructions against
Germanic racism

530

THE SPANISH BISHOPS AND NAZISM DURING THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR

APPENDIX C. Appearance of foreign pastoral letters and similar
documents in diocesan bulletins in former Republican areas

Diocese
Lérida
Valencia
Cuenca
Vich
Gerona
Total times
published

Instructions
against
Germanic
racism

Collective
pastoral
Pastoral
letter of
letters by
the German German Pensamiento
episcopate
bishops
Navarro

December 31, 1938
February 18, 1939
June 15, 1939;
September 11, 1939
July 15, 1939
September 12, 1939

—
—

—
—

—
—

—
—
—

—
—
—

—
—
—

5

—

—

—

BOOK REVIEWS
________
General and Miscellaneous
The Rise of Historical Consciousness among the Christian Churches.
Edited by Kenneth L. Parker and Erick H. Moser. [Studies in Religion and
the Social Order.] (Lanham, MD: University Press of America. 2012. Pp.
xiii, 227. $32.99 paperback. ISBN 978-0-7618-5919-2.)
This collection of eight essays, along with an excellent introduction by
Kenneth Parker, stemmed from papers presented at the American Academy
of Religion’s Working Group on the Rise of Historical Consciousness.
This reviewer began reading this book—truth be told—with some wariness, as entire Amazonian rainforests have disappeared to provide pages for
studies of historical consciousness and its impact on Western religion generally and Christian theology in particular. The fear was that these essays
would simply rehash earlier studies purporting to explain why historical
consciousness (a slippery term in the best of circumstances) was a good
thing, a bad thing, or an indifferent thing for Christianity in the North Atlantic
world. In the event, these fears proved groundless, as this is a quite important collection of essays that is now required reading for any scholar of religion and culture who studies the problem of historical consciousness and its
impact on Christian practice and belief.
As Kenneth Parker notes so well in the introduction to these essays, the
historicizing of religious experience is often treated as “the emancipation of
humanity from the tyranny of religious authority and the advent of a new
era, governed by rigorous rational investigation, culminating in knowledge
based on historical ‘facts’” (p. 1). He also notes that it has been commonly
assumed that the rise of historicism and the consciousness associated with
it was largely the product of the Enlightenment era, as the logical end result
of the emergence of rationalist “secularity and the elevation of human rationality above dogmatic belief systems” (p. 1).
The essays in this collection offer a very different narrative of historical
consciousness and its emergence in western Europe by offering two key
insights: first, they offer convincing proof that the emergence of historical
consciousness as a factor in interpreting the Christian tradition was not an
external threat pioneered by Enlightenment thinkers like Voltaire. Rather, the
emergence of historical consciousness was an early-modern paradigm shift
pioneered by Christian scholars very much committed to strengthening
531

532

BOOK REVIEWS

Christian belief systems. Second, these essays explore how the rise of historical consciousness contributed to an internal ecclesial debate among
Christian theologians who championed the autonomy of scholarly critique
and church leaders who sought to maintain the authority of traditional dogmatic claims in the face of challenges pressed not by rationalist philosophes
but by seminary professors within church institutions sponsored by their
own ecclesial communities. Thus the word among in this collection’s title
functions as the operative word, giving a sense of the collection’s direction
and overall argument.
These two insights alter the traditional narrative of historical consciousness by showing how this battle over historical consciousness was a
Christian phenomenon internal to religious communities—an internal
debate within churches focused on how to accommodate critical scholarship that was produced to foster—not to attack—religious belief. The critical period for the rise of this consciousness was not the eighteenth century
(usually posited as the culprit) but rather the sixteenth century, with
Erasmus (and not the Enlightenment materialists) playing the central role.
Erasmus’s contempt for what we now call the “Middle Ages” led him to posit
a rupture and discontinuity between his own age and the centuries when
scholastic theology dominated the intellectual landscape. Indeed, Erasmus’s
historicization of St. Jerome’s Vulgate Bible—illustrating the problems of
Jerome’s translation and the corruptions in the text considered “normative”
for centuries in Western Europe—played a decisive role in the rise of historical consciousness among Western Christians.
These essays offer a new and compelling narrative in understanding
where historical consciousness stands as a challenge to Christian belief and
practice, casting the battle as a family feud more than an attack from hostile
outsiders. Parker’s very fine introduction to the collection; his essay on the
First Vatican Council (“Historical Consciousness and the First Vatican
Council: Manning, Döllinger, Newman, and Acton’s Uses of History”); and the
essays by Theodore Letis (“Erasmus and the Birth of Historical
Consciousness”), Darrell Jodock (“D. F. Strauss’s Life of Jesus, F. C. Baur, and
Modern Historical Consciousness”), and Harvey Hill (“History and Heresy:
Religious Authority and the Trial of Charles Augustus Briggs”) stand out as
important contributions in this collection. The essays offer exciting new
insights on a topic that scholars could think had been exhaustively studied.
Boston College

MARK MASSA, S.J.

BOOK REVIEWS

533

La deuxième fille de Cluny: Grandeurs et misères de Saint-Martin-desChamps. By Alain Mercier. (Grenoble: Livres Glénat, in association with
the Conservatoire National des Arts et Métiers. 2012. Pp. 576. €59,00. ISBN
978-2-3554-5008-2.)
This large and lavish book is the first comprehensive history of the
Parisian priory of Saint-Martin-des-Champs from its foundation in the mideleventh century to its dissolution in the French Revolution. The
Conservatoire National des Arts et Métiers, originally founded in 1794, was
established in the priory buildings four years later, and this volume is
intended as the first of a three-volume set commemorating that institution.
It is intended for an educated lay audience rather than for scholars; and yet
it has much to interest the scholar, including hundreds of color images of
Saint-Martin’s buildings, architectural features, artwork, and archival documents—the latter usually not seen in art books. There is an extensive bibliography, which includes an impressive list of manuscript sources (although
the secondary works are all in French), a good starting point for any future
histories of the monastery.
The book begins with the Merovingian-era sanctuary and sarcophagi
recently found under Saint-Martin-des-Champs. Quickly, however, it turns to
King Henry I of France and his decision to found a Benedictine house in
1059, establishing it on the ruins of the old sanctuary, and to Henry’s son
Philip I, who soon gave the house to Cluny. The account then proceeds
chronologically, prior by prior, discussing especially building programs and
grants of property and rights. The focus is more on architecture and recent
archaeological discoveries than on the monks themselves.
Mercier’s specialty is not medieval history, and his description of the
social milieu in which the priory began is very old-fashioned: feudal anarchy,
a papacy plotting dominance, Cluniac monks seeking to expand. He relies for
much of the early narrative on works written in the nineteenth and earlytwentieth centuries. It is not even clear that Saint-Martin really was Cluny’s
second daughter, as the title suggests, because the Burgundian priories of
Paray-le-Monial and La Charité had already been established. (Mercier mentions La Charité but not Paray.)
Mercier seems to comes into his own when he reaches the late Middle
Ages and the early-modern period, when the house lost most of its monks and
much of the regularity of its life. Still very wealthy, it fell under the control of
commendataires, secular clergy, or even laymen who took control of the
house’s property and possessions, in spite of intermittent efforts at reform.
Not until the seventeenth century did the house, under the direction of
Cardinal Richelieu, return to a strict observance of the monastic life, and then
the monks spent much of the eighteenth century rebuilding and expanding,
little anticipating the coming destruction of the French Revolution.

534

BOOK REVIEWS

The book is beautifully produced. Mercier’s own photographs of architectural detail illustrate many of his points, and century-old photos show
what the buildings looked like before the most recent round of renovations.
One of the book’s chief strengths is that it traces the evolution of the priory
buildings from the eleventh century to the twenty-first. Mercier clearly
knows the structures intimately.The historical narrative is in some ways just
an excuse to discuss lovingly all the details of the buildings and the priory’s
artwork and manuscripts. For the reader who has never been to the museum
of Arts et Métiers, it is, shall we say, striking to see pictures of, for example,
the gothic nave turned into an expo center for early automobiles (p. 99).
CONSTANCE B. BOUCHARD

University of Akron
Ancient

Loving the Poor, Saving the Rich: Wealth, Poverty, and Early Christian
Formation. By Helen Rhee. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic Press.
2013. Pp. xx, 279. $29.99 paperback. ISBN 978-0-8010-4824-1.)
In Sollicitudo Rei Socialis (par. 42), Pope John Paul II declared that “the
whole tradition of the Church bears witness” to a preferential option for the
poor. Most Christians would agree—but if asked to describe or defend that
tradition, we find ourselves facing complex historical questions.A vast body
of scholarship has explored the tradition’s beginnings in the community’s
early memory of Jesus—pondering his words “Blessed are you poor” and
“Woe to you rich”—and in the canonical New Testament. Another huge
corpus of literature has grown around the flowering of patristic commentary
and the great ecumenical councils of the post-Constantinian church. In this
book Helen Rhee focuses on an in-between period, relatively neglected by
historians of social ethics, but crucial to our understanding of the issues—
the second and third centuries, when the Christian movement was sorting
out what and who it was. Debates over what the Church ought to do for the
poor and what it should expect from the rich were not only an important
part of the movement’s growing body of moral teaching, Rhee argues, but
also central to the ways it defined its identity.
There is no tabula rasa in the formation of identity, whether of an individual or of a movement. Identity is both positive and negative: not only
beliefs, attitudes, and practices that define who we are but also the defining
differences from the beliefs, attitudes, and practices of those around us. Even
those differences, however, we perceive through filters created by that larger
culture.The language we use to describe our differences is the language we
share.The identity of a new social movement is thus always being negotiated
at its boundaries.
Over the past century, new evidence and, more important, fresh ways of
interpreting the evidence have transformed our understanding of the social

BOOK REVIEWS

535

and cultural world within which the Jesus movement came of age as
“Christianity.” In her first chapter Rhee provides a succinct, accessible summary of scholarship on social and economic relationships in the Roman
Empire and the way those relationships were construed and evaluated by
various groups. A very brief section mentions aspects of the Israelite-Jewish
tradition of rich and poor (pp. 27–32). In contrast with the comprehensive
knowledge exhibited elsewhere by Rhee, these paragraphs are disappointingly thin: most of the references are to commentaries on the Letter of
James; no Jewish scholar is cited, and rabbinic sources are ignored. There follows an equally brief sketch of “early [i.e., first-century] Christian teachings
and practices” (pp. 32–40) and of “the geographic spread and social situations of Christian communities in the second and third centuries” (pp.
40–48).
The central chapters show how the Church wrestled with issues of
poverty and wealth as more of the middling to upper classes appeared
among its own members. Using evidence from the Apostolic Fathers; the
Alexandrian and North African writers, especially Clement, Cyprian, and
Tertullian; the early church-order literature; and some of the apocryphal acts,
Rhee organizes her exposition around three theological topics: eschatology
(chap. 2), soteriology (chap. 3), and koinonia (chap. 4). It is a rich and complicated story, and Rhee tells it well. The recurrent question is the one formulated by Clement in the title of his well-known treatise,“Which rich man
shall be saved?”The answer is, roughly, the one who gives alms to the poor,
avoids those vices of luxury and conspicuous love of wealth that the GrecoRoman moralists commonly despised, and supports the growing centralization of power in the bishops.That centralization, and the emergence of the
Church as an economic institution, forms the subject of chapter 5. Chapter
6 sums up the findings under the topic “Wealth, Poverty, and Christian
Identity.” Here again, almsgiving looms large—“as Christian freedom, obligation, and a boundary marker” (p. 171, the topic of section 6.3).
In the final chapter Rhee suggests some motifs that may stimulate discussion of appropriate Christian responses to disparities of status in a
global economy today: sufficiency, resistance to materialism, simplicity and
renunciation, the formation of alternate communities. She cites two examples of such responses—examples as different as one could imagine:
Catholic Social Teaching, summarized mainly from encyclicals of John Paul
II, and “the prosperity gospel movement” (p. 210). The latter is known to
most readers, if at all, in the form that has made celebrities and millionaires
of several American televangelists. In its Pentecostal variety Rhee gives it
surprisingly high marks. In several developing countries, she points out,
Pentecostal movements promising wealth in this world as well as the next
have provided alternative social networks for impoverished people and
imbued them with an entrepreneurial spirit that turns “the pious poor” into
“the pious rich.”

536

BOOK REVIEWS

A small book for an enormous topic, Loving the Poor, Saving the Rich raises
far more questions than it answers. That, surely, was the author’s intention.
Yale University

WAYNE A. MEEKS

Von Origenes und Hieronymus zu Augustinus. Studien zur Antiken
Theologiegeschichte. By Alfons Fürst. [Arbeiten zur Kirchengeschichte,
Band 115.] (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. 2011. Pp. viii, 535. $154.00. ISBN
978-3-11-025102-9.)
A member of the Catholic faculty of theology at the University of
Münster, Alfons Fürst is a professor of patristics and archaeology and an
expert in the thought of Origen. His latest monograph aims to trace a trajectory from Origen (d. 254) and St. Jerome (d. 420) to St. Augustine (d. 430).
Fürst’s overall argument is that Origen laid the foundations of a Catholic culture by constructing a comprehensive exegesis that read all of Sacred
Scripture in the light of the Word. The Word has entered human history to
bring all persons back to the Father; but the mechanics of precisely how this
would occur obviously vary, depending on one’s overall theology.What Fürst
rightly sees is that Origen enabled other sophisticated readers of the Bible,
like Jerome, to advance a hermeneutic in the Latin West that understood the
Word’s incarnation as a divine ambush against the workings of the devil.
Through Jerome, the West thus inherited the best of Hebraic and Hellenic
soteriology, but what Jerome could not fathom was how all the pieces of
God’s saving action in the incarnate Word came together. Questions of
human freedom, divine foreknowledge, and the bestowal of sanctifying grace
were, of course, left to find full flower in Augustine’s eschatology. Lest this
grand sketch prove misleading, Fürst’s work is not a triptych of these three
thinkers, but reads more as an introduction to the massive figure of Origen
(pp. 45–236), a bit on Jerome (pp. 239–334), and then a section synoptically
overlapping these two figures in the thought of Augustine (pp. 337–500).
The main purpose of putting these three luminous churchmen together is
to show that Augustine’s understanding of Christian salvation relied on a particular reading of Origen. We now know (Divjak, ep. 27) that Augustine and
his colleague, Aurelius, were discussing Origen even before the former’s ordination in 391. With an ever-growing sense of humanity’s radical and utter
reliance on grace, however,Augustine tended to read Origen as one who overstressed humanity’s autonomy and thus ability to move oneself closer to God.
As such, the bishop of Hippo no doubt saw in Origen a Pelagian precursor, a
point made by Fürst with brio and brilliance. Fürst also chronicles the ways
Jerome and Augustine saw the possibility of Origen’s leading the Church
astray regarding Trinitarian doctrine, the nature of the soul and its relation to
corporeality, as well as the attendant issue of the resurrection of the dead.
Any professional scholar of Origen will have, at least, to know of this
work. It is certainly not intended for the nonspecialist. Given the limitations

BOOK REVIEWS

537

that both the German as well as the price may bring, this work might land
on library shelves but will not make its way into many reading lists. This is
unfortunate for the good points sketched above, but understandable. Other
students of late antiquity may find this volume helpful in understanding the
massive influence exerted by Origen’s theology, but much of what Fürst
advances here concerning Augustine’s estimation of Origen is found more
readily for us English speakers in Gyorgy Heidl’s Origen’s Influence on the
Young Augustine: A Chapter of the History of Origenism (Piscataway, NJ,
2003). One of Fürst’s unmatchable contributions comes with his analysis of
Jerome, a very understudied Father of the Church. For example, Fürst opens
his section on Jerome (pp. 238–74) by showing how Jerome’s De Seraphim
concerning Isaiah’s vision in the temple was reacting to Origen’s Trinitarian
interpretation of this multilayered passage. Connections like this prove to be
the gems strewn throughout these pages.
Origen has cast a long shadow on practically every aspect of Christian
dogma today; and scholars like Fürst are to be thanked for allowing such
giants to stand up from time to time, allowing us moderns to witness how
prayer and study can effect lasting influences in the Church.
Saint Louis University

DAVID VINCENT MECONI, S.J.

The Book of the Elders: Sayings of the Desert Fathers. The Systematic
Collection. Translated by John Wortley. [Cistercian Studies Series, No. 240.]
(Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press. 2012. Pp. xxix, 386. $49.95. ISBN 978-087907-201-8. $27.35 Kindle edition ebook ISBN 978-0-87907-770-9.)
Interest in the early desert fathers and mothers who expressed their inner
spiritual experiences in the form of sayings and short stories has endured for
centuries.Their sayings were written down by their disciples, possibly at first
in the Coptic language in which they were uttered, but certainly in Greek by
the fifth and sixth centuries.They were then translated into Latin and Syriac
followed by other languages. This collection of sayings was preserved in
many recensions. The West preserved a Latin translation of the systematic
collection, reprinted in Patrologia Latina, volume 73. Portions of the Latin
recension were translated by Owen Chadwick in Western Asceticism
(Philadelphia, 1958), which was followed by Benedicata Ward’s translation of
the same Latin text under the title The Desert Fathers: Sayings of the Early
Christian Monks (New York, 2003).These translations of the systematic collection from Latin became classics to the English reader.
A Greek text of the systematic sayings, published by François Nau in
Revue de l’Orient chrétien from 1907 to 1913, was translated in two separate volumes: Columba Stewart, The World of the Desert Fathers (Oxford,
1986), and Benedicta Ward, The Wisdom of the Desert Fathers (Oxford,
1986). Jean-Claude Guy began working on the Greek recensions of the sys-

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tematic collection from the early 1960s, incorporating the Nau collection.
The culmination of his work was published in three volumes in Sources
Chrétiennes (387 [1993], 474 [2003], and 498 [2005]) under the title Les
Apophthegmata des Pères: collection systématique. Wortley’s translation is
based on the Greek systematic collection edited by Guy. It is the first English
translation of the whole corpus of the Greek systematic collection of the
Apophthegmata Patrum.
The English reader is so accustomed to Ward’s lucid translation that it will
take some time to become accustomed to Wortley’s more literal style. For
example, compare the following passages:
Another old man came to see the Father, who cooked a few lentils and said to
him,“Let us say a few prayers”, and the first completed the whole psalter, and
the brother recited the two great prophets by heart.When morning came, the
visitor went away, and they forgot the food. (Ward, Wisdom, p. 5)
Another elder visited one of the elders, who boiled a few lentils and said to
[the visitor],“Let us offer the little synaxis.” He recited the entire Psalter, then
the other one repeated from memory the two great prophets. The visiting
elder departed when dawn broke; they forgot about the food. (Wortley, Elders,
p. 51)

Wortley’s translation kept the Greek technical term synaxis, whereas Ward
translated the term as prayer. Both allowed the narrative to clarify the
intended meaning as a prayer service composed of scripture—in this case,
the Psalms and the books of Isaiah and Jeremiah. Wortley’s description that
the lentils were just boiled, evading the notion that they were cooked in a
gourmet fashion, alerts the reader to the simplicity of the monastic lifestyle.
Such interpretive nuances will clearly impact the reader’s perception of the
narrative.Wortley’s preserving such details for the reader who does not refer
to the original Greek text is helpful.
Wortley serves the interested reader by preserving Guy’s references and
providing marginal notes that tell the reader whether the saying can be
found in the Nau collection, the alphabetical collection, the Ascetic
Discourses of Abba Isaiah (which were never used in the Latin collection),
or The Lausiac History of Palladius, just to mention a few possibilities.
These marginal notes will become an indispensable tool for the researcher.
Wortley’s translation has filled a lacuna in early monastic literature and will
no doubt become a classic in the field.
Luther Seminary
St. Paul, MN

LOIS FARAG

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Medieval
The Benedictines in the Middle Ages. By James G. Clark. [Monastic Orders.]
(Rochester, NY:The Boydell Press, an imprint of Boydell & Brewer. 2011.
Pp. x, 374. $50.00. ISBN 978-1-84383-623-0.)
The title suggests the genre of the “history of a religious order,” the new
type of medieval studies already long cultivated in the French Centre
Europeén de Recherche sur les Congrégations et les Ordres Religieux at the
University of St. Étienne but, most recently and more elaborately, at the
Forschungsstelle für Vergleichende Ordensgeschichte under the direction of
Gert Melville (Technical University of Dresden), following up on the work of
Kaspar Elm (Freie Universität Berlin). However, the Benedictines never
wanted to constitute a religious order in the modern sense but were forced
to accept this label by the Cistercians, their own reform movement. Thus
writing the history of the Benedictines is a real challenge, because of the
numerous decisions such a task entails. One question is: How should one
treat a religious order that for centuries was the only existing form of monastic life? Monasteries are institutions born out of the surrounding world and
society, yet at the same time they serve as a partial contrast to that world and
society. Their context encompasses their external relations with the world
around; their internal structures based on the principal source of Western
monasticism, the Regula Benedicti; and their relationship to the Bible, the
exclusive source foundation of the Christian doctrine.
Structuring his work under the sections “The Making of a European
Order,” “Observance,” “Society,” “Culture,” “The Later Middle Ages,” and
“Reformations,” the author masters with a seldom met richness a wealth of
evidence from the infinitude of particular aspects of Benedictine monasticism. This richness not only stems from the broad perspective of the wellread author’s tackling the matter, his constant flow of fresh quotations and
references to medieval authors of all genres, printed or still in manuscript,
but also his discussions and possible explanations carry the note of careful
respect for historical truth within reach of historical possibilities. French,
Norman, South German, Italian, and English Benedictine history is in focus,
which is an adequate historical perspective considering the receptive character of North European monasticism. The fifty-eight pages on “Society”
compose a serious discussion of monasticism in its role for European constitutions from feudalism to public service, after the seventy pages of
“Observance” had presented numerous aspects of internal monastic life on
liturgy, work, discipline, and what finally came out of the notion of Opus
Dei. In the sixty-five pages on “Culture,” literature is, of course, prominent,
and the way from biblical exegesis and spiritual reading to cultural work
(including monks as authors and scholars) is drawn with great skill; the
writing of history receives its due attention. Frequent references in the
three main chapters to degeneration, crisis, and reawakening of a genuine

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Benedictine monastic spirit in some places in the fifteenth century bring to
mind what the two concluding chapters treat more explicitly; here, the
chapter on “Reformations” deserves mention for the more realistic perspective on the events of the early-sixteenth century that is taking shape among
scholars today.
University of Southern Denmark, Odense

TORE NYBERG

The Medieval Chantry in England. Edited by Julian M. Luxford and John
McNeill. (Leeds, UK: Maney Publishing and the British Archaeological
Association. Distrib. David Brown Book Company, Oakville, CT. 2012. Pp.
x, 313. $88.00. ISBN 978-1-907975-16-5.)
The chantry was a foundation and endowment of a Mass by one or more
benefactors, to be celebrated at an altar, for the souls of the founders and
other specified persons.The religious basis for the foundation of a chantry
concerned medieval beliefs in the afterlife, specifically the idea of purgatory, which by the late-medieval period had come to dominate both the
religious beliefs of medieval society and its artistic and architectural representations.The study of chantries and chantry chapels has much to offer
the student of medieval history and religion, and overall this volume has
much to contribute here. Eleven essays are presented in this volume and
lead the reader through a wide spectrum of monuments, foundations, and
patterns of patronage. Individual papers include a consideration of the earliest evidence for chantry foundation, the origins of stone-cage chapels,
royal patronage and commemorative architecture, the role and impact of
chantry foundation in the late-medieval parish, and the provision of music
and textiles.A series of papers focuses on specific and particularly impressive monuments and includes those founded for William and Abbot Islip’s
monument at Westminster Abbey. The book concludes with an important
reassessment of the eventual dissolution and suppression of chantries in
the mid-sixteenth century, and the wider implications for both church and
society.
Overall, this well-illustrated book offers a scholarly and fresh approach
to the historical and architectural study of medieval chantries. It is admittedly a little staid in places. There is, for instance, perhaps too much focus
on some of the more impressive monuments that are largely unrepresentative of the majority of medieval foundations.The volume also largely ignores
much recent work that has tended to focus on archaeological, theoretical,
and spatial applications to chantry chapels and has revealed much about
how such monuments worked in practice, as well as their wider relationship to church space and lay piety.The editors’ claim to examine chantries
“in the round” is perhaps a little misleading since a more balanced volume
might have reflected the broader academic interest in medieval chantries
beyond the bounds of architectural history. For example, further contribu-

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541

tions might have considered these monuments as cultural resource, a subject that has received very little attention. Many lesser-known (and studied)
chapels, particularly those languishing in rural parishes, are in a high state
of disrepair, often neglected academically as well as in terms of care, conservation, and preservation. Since this volume is published under the auspices of the British Archaeological Association, this might be deemed particularly appropriate. These caveats and limitations aside, however, the
volume provides a valuable art-historical study of an important medieval
religious monument and is a useful contribution to the wider body of
recent work on the subject.
University of Winchester

SIMON ROFFEY

Insular and Anglo-Saxon Art and Thought in the Early Medieval Period.
Edited by Colum Hourihane. [The Index of Christian Art: Occasional
Papers, XIII.] (Princeton: Index of Christian Art, Department of Art and
Archaeology, Princeton University. Distrib. Pennsylvania State University
Press. 2011. Pp. xxi, 324. $35.00 paperback. ISBN 978-0-9837537-0-4.)
This sumptuously illustrated volume, with more than 180 reproductions
(70 in full color), provides a broad overview of the current status quaestionis in the study of art produced between the sixth and eleventh centuries in
the British Isles.The vast majority of the pieces considered are ecclesiastical
in nature, with the great illuminated Gospel Books and other manuscripts
taking pride of place; sculpture and metalwork also are examined in some
detail.The contributors are frequently eager to explore the iconographic and
theological underpinnings and associations of this material, and the collection therefore provides a fascinating series of glimpses into the rich intellectual and social milieu of the churches in Britain and Ireland during the
first millennium.
The volume deliberately adopts an inclusive approach, examining earlier
Insular pieces (perhaps more closely associated with the Celtic “peripheries”) together with productions connected with the later Anglo-Saxon
Benedictine Reform. Individual essays embrace this inclusiveness, eschewing
hard (and often artificial) boundaries in favor of exploring interconnections
between the artistic traditions of the Isles, examined as part of (rather than
in isolation from) the European mainstream.Thus Niall Xavier O’Donoghue’s
survey of chrismals—here in the specialized meaning of pyxes worn about
the person containing the consecrated Host—uncovers previously unrecognized English examples of what was considered a purely Irish phenomenon;
Peter Harbison argues that an important stimulus in the development of the
Irish High Cross can be traced directly to the court of Emperor Charles the
Bald; and Carol Neuman de Vegvar suggests that images of Victoria on
Roman coinage may have had a surprisingly widespread and long-lasting
impact on Northern medieval art.

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This inclusive approach also inspires the two important papers that open
the collection, where Nancy Netzer and Lawrence Nees offer serious challenges to the established chronology of Insular art (most notably regarding
the date and relative positioning of the Book of Durrow). Elsewhere,
Michelle P. Brown and Michael Ryan survey Southumbrian book culture and
Irish metalwork within their European context, Heather Pulliam and Jane E.
Rosenthal examine depictions of the Virgin Mary in the Book of Kells and the
Arenberg Gospels, and Jennifer O’Reilly and Martin Werner consider the
iconographic and theological significance of the Apostle John (the former in
an impressive survey of Insular and Anglo-Saxon illumination, the latter in
specific examination of designs on the binding of the Stonyhurst Gospel).
Éamonn Ó Carragáin follows the sun’s course as a guide to reading the
iconography of Irish high crosses, whereas Paul Meyvaert provides a useful
catalog of depictions of John the Baptist (up to the sixteenth century) in his
quest to demonstrate that the saint is not depicted on the Ruthwell Cross.
Both Herbert R. Broderick III and Benjamin C. Withers examine the illustrated Old English Hexateuch in Cotton Claudius B.IV: the former considers
the exegetical implications of Moses’s veil, whereas the latter’s reflections—
on the relevance to the perils of translation of an unusual depiction of Satan
within a mandorla—recall Carol Farr’s earlier investigation of the performative power of Insular images.
Taken as a whole, these papers demonstrate the advantages of openness
to the possibilities of cross-fertilization within and between the cultures of
the early-medieval British Isles, revealing the beauty—intellectual as well as
visual—of the perhaps more-widespread “hisperic aesthetic” (pp. 107, 108)
that Benjamin C.Tilghman skillfully identifies in the Book of Kells.The studies in this volume provide stimulating testaments to the same conviction that
Tilghman uncovers in legendary accounts of the creation of the Irish language:“the idea that excellence comes not in the form of a single unalloyed
tradition or through a recovery of some original state, but through the blending of different systems” (p. 105).
Saint Louis University

TOMÁS O’SULLIVAN

Popes and Antipopes: The Politics of Eleventh Century Church Reform. By
Mary Stroll. [Studies in the History of Christian Traditions, Vol. 159.]
Boston: Brill. 2012. Pp. xviii, 266. $136.00. ISBN 978-90-04-21701-0.)
The word politics in the subtitle of this volume should be underlined, for
the author intends to portray the shift in power and authority from the
Empire under Emperor Henry III to the papacy on the eve of the election of
Pope Gregory VII.The story of the antipopes is intentionally emphasized (p.
7), a very worthwhile but difficult undertaking. Because of the complexity of
the issues involved the nonspecialist reader might find it difficult at times to

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543

discern the structure of her arguments surrounding the events and personalities of the period between ca. 1046 and 1073.
The fifteen brief chapters of the book, at times no more than a dozen
pages long, give almost the impression of dictionary entries without annotations, mainly progressing from pope or antipope to their respective successors in chronological order: (1) Imperial Authority over Papal Elections;(2)
Henry Ill’s Popes; (3) Leo IX (1049–54): the Normans and the Byzantines; (4)
Victor II and Stephen IX; (5) Benedict X, Antipope: Romans Versus
Reformers; (6) Nicholas II; (7) Nicholas II: Papal Electoral Decree and Break
with the Regency; (8) Nicholas II: The Normans and the Collapse of Imperial
Goodwill; (9) The Election of Alexander II; (10) The Election of Cadalus,
Honorius II; (11) Conflict in Rome and the Abduction of Henry IV; (12) From
Kaiserswerth to Mantua; (13) The Council of Mantua; (14) Instability
Following Mantua; and (15) Ambivalence and Self-Interest. The book also
includes an introduction (pp. 1–8) and a conclusion (pp. 243–47), a bibliography subdivided into “Sources” and “Literature,” and a very brief index.
Under each topic the author presents, whenever possible, long excerpts
from contemporary primary sources in translation without explaining or justifying the selection, or why several different and contradictory sources are
cited in sequence. At other times the primary sources are extensively paraphrased. Here and there, it is indeed noted that these sources disagree or are
riddled with errors, but such disagreements are mostly dismissed (pp. 51, 71,
82, 198), and the brief conclusions at the end of each chapter are usually
based on whichever narrative seems most likely. Favored are the most colorful narratives—making for interesting reading—especially Benzo of Alba, the
chief source for the history of Cadalus of Parma. The author notes in passing
Benzo’s “usual dramatic hyperbole” (p. 199) or that “as always, Benzo presents the most tendentious and conspiratorial account” (p. 53), but she nevertheless quotes him over many pages of text (see the index) and frequently
refers directly or implicitly to Benzo’s accusation that Hildebrand, the later
Gregory VII, poisoned four of his predecessors (pp. 29, 30, 31, 61, 63, 115,
241).This is a minor point, to be sure, but it distorts history, not least because
secondary literature is largely missing in the volume or is out of date. As the
author is aware, the sources of this period are very polemical, and historians
have long attempted to straighten out the record. Such critical evaluations
must be a starting point if progress is to be made, even if arguments can be
complex. Chapter 7, focused on the papal election decree of 1059, is a disservice to readers, for it repeats the author’s earlier claim that Onofrio
Panvinius in 1563 correctly identified the “genuine” version of the papal election decree in sources from the Abbey of Farfa (pp. 101–07).This is unfortunate, for after the critical edition of the decree by Detlev Jasper, Das
Papstwahldekret von 1059 (Sigmaringen, Germany, 1986), the question can
no longer be considered “open.” The book was perhaps written in some
haste, as misspellings and errors indicate. The confusion between Popes
Benedict IX and Boniface (pp. 29, 30), for instance—or the invention of a
“bishop of Poleda in Thuringia,” when Jean Mabillon’s Annales, cited in a

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footnote, clearly report the consecration of Bishop Gundekar of Eichstätt at
the royal court of Pöhlde (pp. 84–85)—are difficult to explain otherwise.
The Catholic University of America (Emerita)

UTA-RENATE BLUMENTHAL

The First Crusade: The Call from the East. By Peter Frankopan. (Cambridge,
MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. 2012. Pp. xxiii, 262.
$29.95. ISBN 978-0-674-05994-8.)
There are today so many histories of the First Crusade jostling for shelf
space that new authors are forced to find ways to differentiate theirs from
all of the others. In some cases this has led to genuinely innovative
approaches; in others, rather awkward attempts at novelty have resulted.This
is one of the latter.
To be fair, this book is only partially concerned with the subject of its
title. The first half offers instead a narrative of the reign of the Byzantine
Emperor Alexius I Comnenus. Frankopan argues that matters in Asia Minor
did not continue to deteriorate for the Byzantines in the years after the Battle
of Manzikert in 1071. Instead, he sees solid improvements across the region
after the accession of Alexius in 1081. Discounting the testimony of Anna
Comnena, Frankopan believes that Alexius forged a working relationship
with Sultan Malik-Shah that stabilized the area despite the latter’s capture of
Antioch and his campaigns deep into Anatolia. For proof, Frankopan points
to a sermon delivered to the emperor in early 1088 that fails to mention any
problems in the East. Thus, he concludes, “In the late 1080s, there was no
need for a Crusade” (p. 56).A few years later, however, new attacks from Abu
‘l-Kasim in Nicaea and Çaka along the Aegean coast caused real problems.
The death of Malik-Shah in November 1092, deprived Byzantium of its protector, and the subsequent chaos gave Turkish warlords free reign to carve
up Byzantine territory.
This is perhaps the most important part of the book. Frankopan rejects
the oft-made assertion that there were no immediate events in the east that
gave rise to the First Crusade. He convincingly demonstrates that matters
had indeed become desperate in Asia Minor and that Alexius was actively
seeking aid from the West. A letter from the emperor to Count Robert of
Flanders, which is generally thought to be a forgery, spelled out the disaster
and called for a Latin response. Frankopan argues that the letter is genuine
and, indeed, that it fits into a wider Byzantine plan to bring the West into the
struggle. It is possible, though, to believe that the letter, which is very Latin
in tone, is indeed a forgery while still accepting that the Byzantines suffered
serious defeats in the early 1090s.
What differentiates this history of the First Crusade from all others is the
author’s contention that it was Alexius Comnenus who conceived, initiated,

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545

planned, and remained at the center of the entire event. “Generations of
scholars” have missed this fact because Alexius was “airbrushed from history”
and “deliberately set to one side by Latin historians at the time” (pp. 60, 199).
This apparent conspiracy was hatched to justify the crusaders’ refusal to turn
Antioch over to Alexius, as they had sworn to do (p. 193). Frankopan believes
that information was rather easily managed in the Middle Ages. Not only
were scattered writers able to coordinate their “savage attacks” on the
Byzantine emperor but also Alexius himself orchestrated a public relations
campaign in Western Europe “managed from the center” by which he pulled
“the emotional triggers of western Christians” (pp. 92–95).
There is a certain amount of windmill tilting in all of this. Every current
history of the First Crusade gives significant attention to Alexius Comnenus.
But Frankopan is not content for the emperor to play a major part. Rather, he
“should take centre stage in the history of the First Crusade” (p. 206). That
means demoting Pope Urban II, who Frankopan believes was written into his
starring role by later Latin authors. Thus, Urban “filled the void left by the
expurgation of Emperor Alexios; the central figure behind the mobilization
of western knights was cast into the shadows in the decade that followed
the Crusade, and has remained there ever since” (p. 201). To correct this,
Frankopan forcefully inserts Alexius into every nook and cranny of the crusade, even when there is no evidence he took action or was even aware of
events.
At its best, this study follows the tradition of Charles Brand’s excellent
Byzantium Confronts the West (Cambridge, MA, 1968), providing a
Byzantine context for a western crusade.At its worst, it is a clumsy apologia
for Alexius Comnenus. Along the way, though, it does offer some useful
insights into this closely studied crusade.
Saint Louis University

THOMAS F. MADDEN

The Forgotten Crusaders: Poland and the Crusader Movement in the
Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries. By Mikolaj Gladysz. [The Northern
World: North Europe and the Baltic, c. 400–1700 AD, Peoples, Economies
and Cultures,Vol. 56.] (Leiden: Brill. 2012. Pp. xxv, 433: $243.00. ISBN 9789-004-18551-7; ebook 978-9-004-22336-3.)
The title describes the situation exactly—whereas most medievalists are
aware of the Scandinavian and German crusades in the Baltic, they know
nothing about the Polish contributions. Indeed, this was a troubled era for
the Polish kingdom—the division of the dynastic lands had led to endless
rivalries; the Mongols sacked Cracow; Lithuanian pagans ravaged frontier
regions; and the Teutonic Knights, pushing along the Baltic coast, became too
strong to expel or even tame. Chronicle entries were sparse, and documents
were not informative. No wonder Polish crusading efforts were forgotten.

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This is not a book for beginners.There is no narrative, no drama, no translations of the many Latin citations. Medievalists, on the other hand, will find
it extremely valuable. Mikolaj Gladysz is good at analyzing papal documents
calling for volunteers and contributions to the crusading cause, and in
describing the role of Polish churchmen in furthering them.
Gladysz argues that Polish crusading efforts reflected the growing interest in Western culture and chivalric practices.This means that although there
were few crusaders in the twelfth century, there were ever more in the thirteenth century.The first significant participation in expeditions to the Holy
Land, both in men and money, was the Fifth Crusade that foundered in Egypt.
Closer to home, Polish crusading armies fought against pagans in Prussia—
most important for the decisive campaign of 1235—but although interest in
that crusade never quite died away, rulers and churchmen were distracted by
Mongol invasions, domestic disorders, and the papal emphasis on recovering
Jerusalem.
The contest between the popes and Frederick II was replicated in Poland
when bishops declared holy wars against ambitious members of the Piast
dynasty, and there were dangerous enemies to the east.Therefore, while the
crusading movement was staggering from defeats in the Holy Land, Poles
could do little more than contribute money. Fragmentary records make it difficult to judge the joint efforts with Bohemia, Hungary, and the Teutonic
Order.The last Polish campaigns against the Mongols were almost as obscure
as those a century earlier.
The author appropriately relied on Polish research. Gladysz consulted
only a few English-language articles and books (citing only one of this
reviewer’s books on the crusades to Prussia and the Baltic and then using
only the outdated first edition). This is not a major shortcoming, but given
the ever more numerous publications by Western historians, it is one that
young Polish scholars might keep in mind.
One can understand why the original publication did not get a good reception by the general public, and therefore we must praise all the more those
scholars who encouraged its translation into English and publication. Its price
is high, but every research library should take a deep breath and buy it.
Monmouth College, IL

WILLIAM URBAN

Kanonisten und ihre Texte (1234 bis Mitte 14. Jh.): 18 Aufsätze und 14
Exkurse. By Martin Bertram. [Education and Society in the Middle Ages
and Renaissance,Vol. 43.] (Boston: Brill. 2013. Pp. xxiii, 653. $258.00. ISBN
978-90-04-22876-4.)
The publication of Stephan Kuttner’s Repertorium der Kanonistik
(1140–1234) (Rome, 1937) was a significant event in the history of the

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study of the law of the Church. By carefully examining manuscript sources,
Kuttner was able to demonstrate the richness of canonistic development in
the hundred years between the appearance of Gratian’s Decretum (c. 1140)
and the compilation of the Gregorian Decretals in 1234.The scholarly world
took note. However, the publication of Kuttner’s work had one unfortunate
and surely unintended side-effect. It suggested by implication that the important work in the compilation of the classical canon law had been finished by
1234; that what came afterward was lesser stuff. It could be assumed that the
few important developments of later years were adequately covered by reference works such as Johann Friedrich von Schulte’s Quellen und Literatur
des canonischen Rechts (Stuttgart, 1875) or the Dictionnaire du droit
canonique (1935–65).
Martin Bertram was convinced that innovation and production of canonical works of consequence did not come to an end in 1234. This collection
of some of his most important studies demonstrates the wisdom of his own
decision to undertake research in the manuscript resources of European
libraries from after that date. It is not the full and systematic treatment of
Kuttner’s Repertorium—something Bertram himself once hoped to produce. However, it does contain an impressive collection of studies of the
work done by canonists in Western Europe. Taken together, the articles
describe a process of expansion and deepening in the medieval church’s
legal resources. It is not a story of decline.
The contents of the volume address a variety of topics. Some chapters
deal with special types of “secondary” canonical literature—collections of
Quaestiones and Casus legum, for example. The latter, not widely known,
were designed partly to help canonists without training in Roman law come
to grips with it, something required of them whenever they became involved
in legal practice. Other chapters explore the manuscript evidence to extend
what is known about the work of individual canonists: Geoffrey of Trani (d.
1245), Pope Innocent IV (d. 1245), Hostiensis (d. 1271), Joannes de Deo (fl.
1250), and Matheus Romanus (fl. 1310). One particularly valuable chapter
deals with what can be teased out of fragments of medieval canonical material found in the Swedish National Archives. It enlarges the conclusions
about the place of canon law in the Scandinavian lands beyond those drawn
earlier by the few prior scholars who have worked on the subject. Another
provides a lively account, again based on manuscript sources, of the lectures
on the Gregorian Decretals delivered at the University at Orléans in the
1280s. Too little is known about the actual contents of medieval legal education, and this essay adds meaningfully to that small store.The volume also
contains English summaries of the articles, fourteen shorter additions relevant to them, and a register of manuscripts and early printed editions cited.
Much of the book is devoted to detailed points of manuscript research,
matters of interest principally to specialists in medieval canon law. However,

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progress in the history of the Church’s law cannot be made without detail.
Kuttner’s Repertorium showed where it could lead.As in that work, the conclusions about the larger subject drawn by Bertram from the evidence are
impressive and significant.
University of Chicago Law School

R. H. HELMHOLZ

The Trial of the Talmud: Paris, 1240. Hebrew texts translated by John
Friedman, Latin texts translated by Jean Connell Hoff, historical essay by
Robert Chazan. [Mediaeval Sources in Translation, Vol. 53.] (Toronto:
Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies. 2012. Pp. ix, 182. $19.95 paperback. ISBN 978-0-88844-303-8.)
In 1240 the efforts of Nicholas Donin, an apostate from Judaism, to persuade Christian authorities to condemn the Talmud came to a head.
Denounced as a collection of fables about God, as a repository of slurs of
Christianity and of the central figures of Jesus and Mary, and as the book that
displaced Jewish scripture (indeed, was even longer than the Old
Testament), the Talmud was put on “trial,” stimulated by Pope Gregory IX’s
concerns.The trial took place in Paris because it was the French ruler, Louis
IX, and his mother, Blanche of Castile, who actually followed up on the
pope’s initiative.All of this is well known to specialists, as Robert Chazan, the
author of the historical essay in the book under review, readily admits. The
essay recapitulates what experts know and think they know about this
event—its prehistory, biographical details on those who played a role, the
trial itself, the substance of the second thoughts some Christian ecclesiastics
had about the appropriateness of the whole thing and how these were resisted, and, finally, the long-term implications of the decision ultimately taken in
the wake of the trial to burn all the examples of the Talmud that French
authorities could get their hands on.
It is good to have the clear, even-handed, and up-to-date summary of the
current consensus on these matters that Chazan provides. What makes this
book even more valuable, however, is the accompanying translation of the
major texts from Hebrew and Latin that have allowed scholars to reach their
views. So, although most of the texts both in the original and in translation
are accessible to scholars in the field, no one before John Friedman, Jean
Connell Hoff, and Chazan have brought all of them together for a nonspecialist audience and provided the historical context to understand them.The
translations are all new, although it is generously acknowledged that the new
versions have benefited from earlier renderings.
The trial and burning of the Talmud were terribly disturbing events for
Jews in northern Europe and elsewhere in the thirteenth century, and they
influenced later Christian policies, although those policies were often modified in practice down the centuries. A book like this, with its relatively low

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price, offers a wonderful set of readings for courses on medieval Jewish history and medieval history in general.The équipe that produced it has done
a real service to teaching the Middle Ages.
Princeton University

WILLIAM CHESTER JORDAN

The School of Heretics: Academic Condemnation at the University of
Oxford, 1277–1409. By Andrew E. Larsen. [Education and Society in the
Middle Ages and Renaissance, Vol. 40.] (Leiden: Brill. 2011. Pp. xii, 322.
$166.00. ISBN 978-90-04-20661-8.)
Andrew E. Larsen’s study is an excellent historical and doctrinal analysis
of accusations of heresy leveled against various academicians related to the
University of Oxford during the period in question.The author has carefully
designated the parameters of his study so as to limit its scope and purview.
Regarding heresy and heretics, there was a prevailing distinction among
falsity, error, and heresy alluded to by Henry of Ghent in his Quodlibet X, q.
5 (Leuven, 1981, p. 12). Likewise, suspects were to be given three warnings
before being brought to inquisitorial proceedings (p. 151), a rule to be found
“somewhere” in canon law. The author, understandably, struggles a bit with
how to translate the Latin fama, deciding on “rumor” (p. 15);“repute,”“reputation,” as-widely-viewed might be alternatives but hardly more satisfying.
References to the Lollards occur periodically in Larsen’s work. In addition
to the individuals considered to be Lollards mentioned in the index, it would
have been helpful for those unfamiliar with this period of history to learn
what ideas or views earned them the label.
With respect to the controversy regarding the plurality/unicity of forms
(pp. 27–29, 46), there was a refinement that seems to have escaped the
purview of the author—namely, the opinion that there were multiple grades
of a single form.Whether this opinion can initially be traced to John Pecham,
we may never know, since his treatise De gradibus formarum (once housed
in the Merton library) is now lost. Positing grades of a single form responds
to St. Thomas Aquinas’s argument that a plurality of forms leads to a sort of
metaphysical “schizoid” in any given individual being.The grades theory was
subsequently supported by Roger Marston and opposed by Giles of Rome in
his Contra gradus formarum (Venice, 1500).
Regarding the career of Blessed John Duns Scotus (pp. 64–65), details may
be found in William A. Frank and Allan B. Wolter’s volume on Duns Scotus
Metaphysician (West Lafayette, IN, 1995) as well as in Antonie Vos’s monumental treatment in The Philosophy of John Duns Scotus (Edinburgh, 2006).
Regarding the allusion to Walter Chatton’s view that the “brouhaha” about
the various signa originis in the divinity had come to be considered frivo-

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lous on both sides of the channel, this can now be found in the critical edition (Toronto, 2002).
Allusion is made to Ockham’s treatises on the Eucharist (p. 77). These
have been edited in the critical edition by Carl A. Grassi, Tractatus de
Quantitate and Tractatus de corpore Christi (St. Bonaventure, NY, 1986).
Regarding the summoning of Ockham to a provincial chapter of the
Franciscans in 1323 and subsequent events, it should be noted that Ockham
actually went to great lengths to explain his views during his stay in Avignon.
His two final Quodlibets were debated during his sojourn there in 1324–28.
His opening salvo in the first question of Quodlibet VI is an explanatory lecture to the papal examiners who had stated that his argument was equally
faulty with or without the qualification of God’s potentia absoluta. Larsen
refers to the distinction between God’s potentia absoluta and potentia
ordinata (pp. 65, 69, 75); some further explanation about the distinction may
be useful here.As Gedeon Gal once remarked, God never did anything by his
absolute power; everything he does is orderly. This reviewer believes the
potentia absoluta is best put into the logical category of a hypothetical
counterfactual. The usual wording of “God can do everything which does
not involve a contradiction” was further refined by the unknown author of
the Ockhamist work De principiis theologiae, where it is stated, “God can
do everything whose coming to be does not involve a contradiction,”
inserted to exclude God’s making God who cannot come to be.
Having explained to the Avignon examiners that God is not constrained
or necessitated by anything created, nor does he will anything outside himself necessarily, Ockham then turns in Quodlibet VI, q. 1, art. 2 to defend himself against charges of Pelagianism made by the Avignon examiners, where
the questions that follow (qq. 2–6) are responses to his critics as was well
documented by their editor, Joseph C.Wey, C.S.B.The remaining questions of
Quodlibet VI (8–30), as well as qq. 1–8 of Ockham’s Quodlibet VII, stand as
responses to those who had summoned him to the provincial chapter,
requiring him to explain his views on relations. Ockham explained; he did
not recant.
In the chapter treating John Wyclif, mention is made (p. 129) of
Archbishop William Courtenay’s convening of the Blackfriars council in
1382 wherein ten of Wyclif’s propositions were deemed heretical and fourteen erroneous. A listing of these propositions does not seem to have been
included.Another unfortunate occurrence: One of the examiners enlisted to
adjudicate the orthodoxy of Wyclif’s propositions on the Eucharist was John
Tissington, a Franciscan friar who is listed (p. 154) as being elected
Dominican Provincial Prior for England in 1392.
Fairfield Glade, TN

GIRARD J. ETZKORN

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551

Holy Scripture and the Quest for Authority at the End of the Middle Ages.
By Ian Christopher Levy. [Reading the Scriptures.] (Notre Dame:
University of Notre Dame Press. 2012. Pp. xvi, 320. $38.00 paperback.
ISBN 978-0-268-03414-6.)
Ian Levy’s new book takes a fresh approach to the theological controversies that boiled over during the papal schism in the late Middle Ages.Looking
beyond topics such as the Eucharist that were formally disputed by figures
from John Wyclif to Jean Gerson, Levy explores how far the dilemma fundamentally regarded what they shared. It was the case that these controversialists ultimately appealed to Holy Scripture and its interpretative tradition, the
rock of the medieval Church’s authority. But as all sides struggled thereby to
authorize definitively their position, so was the Church’s own authority
threatened.
Levy’s rich introduction charts how this crisis exposes an indeterminacy
already at the heart of ecclesiastical authority. So deeply did the Church
ground its authority in the divinely appointed meaning of scripture that
departure from it served to define “heresy,” even for the pope. But where did
the final authority to determine this meaning lie? In theory, with the Masters
of the Page, a body of theologians aided by a vast exegetical legacy, from the
writings of Church Fathers to extrascriptural traditions believed handed
down from early Christianity.Yet, Levy amply shows, long before Wyclif, this
very diffusiveness was complicating, not clarifying, the quest to defend scripture’s authority.
Against this backdrop, Levy’s most radical rereading of late-medieval controversialists is perhaps that of Wyclif himself. Far from pitting sola scriptura
against the Church, Levy argues that Wyclif was an “indignant master” (p. 54),
defending scripture’s cherished authority, in accordance with interpretative
tradition, against the claims of canon law and pope. Levy traces the misrepresentation of Wyclif to opponents like William Woodford and Thomas Netter,
concocted largely to mask the problematic grounding of their own exegetical
arguments.Turning to the continental controversies, Levy shows that Wyclif’s
rough treatment anticipates that of his admirer, Jan Hus, condemned at the
Council of Constance without proper defense—precisely because, Levy
argues, the views of conciliar opponents such as Gerson were, on a range of
topics, so similar. Levy then underscores how far Gerson’s understanding of
scripture’s supreme authority, asserted against similar claims for the pope,
was aligned with figures such as Wyclif and Hus, underpinning his promotion
at Constance of a definitive “final authority,” a general council representing
the universal Church.Yet although papal power eventually prevailed, the fate
of Reginald Pecock—ironically condemned for trying to defeat Wycliffism
through reading scripture in the light of human reason, not of the Church
Fathers—importantly suggests the ongoing authority of scripture and its
interpretative tradition toward the end of the Middle Ages.

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Levy’s book has most significantly shown the dilemma surrounding authority and scripture to be a central one. Nonetheless, his foregrounding of this
issue ahead of the theological disputes involves another noteworthy claim:
that, as with hermeneutic principles, these theological differences also could
be, rhetoric aside, insubstantial.Yet, although showing that figures like Wyclif
could make traditional theological assertions, this indeterminacy and its contribution to the crisis are never much elucidated. What also emerges from
Levy’s account is the alarm of Wyclif’s opponents that his reading of scripture
did argue alterations to the late-medieval Church so drastic as to threaten its
existence, all the more dangerously for working through its traditional propositions; equally, their faith that God, speaking through scripture, could never so
condemn his Church. Levy's book is, however, a major contribution to the
understanding of late-medieval religion, showing its protagonists to be unexpectedly linked in ways that scholars will need to acknowledge.
Oxford University

STEPHEN PINK

The Grammar of Good Friday: Macaronic Sermons of Late Medieval
England. By Holly Johnson. [Sermo: Studies on Patristic, Medieval, and
Reformation Sermons and Preaching,Vol. 8.] (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols.
2012. Pp xxx, 485. $160.00; €110,00. ISBN 978-2-503-53339-1.)
That the events of Christ’s Crucifixion were central to medieval religious
consciousness almost goes without saying; what scholars of the Middle Ages
may profit by is having their understanding deepened of those various
means whereby the Church installed the Crucifixion in the hearts and minds
of the faithful. One of those means was preaching the Passion. In this book,
Holly Johnson has edited, translated, and copiously commented on, a group
of Good Friday sermons from late-medieval England and, in doing so, has
brought us closer to appreciating the effects achieved in and resources
deployed by her chosen sermons when treating the matter of Good Friday
(or the Grammar of Good Friday, as Johnson has preferred to call it).
In general, she is well equipped for her task. Students who have a longstanding familiarity with the sermon literature of late-medieval England will
already know all of the sermons she has edited; substantial scholarly work
had been done on them before Johnson turned to them, and she has been
able to draw on much that is already in print to help her. For sermon experts,
then, Johnson’s book holds few surprises; for them, its merits will chiefly lie
in having a number of sermon texts on a core episode of Christian history
made reliably available and set side by side between the covers of one book
for convenient comparison. For students less familiar with the texts and traditions of late-medieval English preaching, however, the book will also serve
as a comprehensive introduction to one of its important niche markets.
Johnson’s commentary on the edited texts is extensive. She begins by placing the sermons in the wider tradition of preaching on the Passion and then

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proceeds to offer a series of persuasive literary assessments of their techniques, along with an account of their characteristic materials.There is much
industry in evidence in the preparation of this book, and we must be grateful
to her for it. It is not, however, without the odd blemish, something hardly
avoidable in a book of its size.Translations from the Latin occasionally leave a
little to be desired. Here are a number of cases: the third-person singular perfect tense of the verb pendere (to hang), pependit, is rendered as if this were
a present tense (p. 6); contristavi (p. 8n26) is translated “saddened,”, though
“hurt” or “offended” would seem more appropriate here; a translation of John
Wyclif (p. 36) is a little loose, and another (p. 38) is perilous. Anyone who
wishes to build an argument solely on the basis of her translation may wish to
check the original in case there may be slips.There also are signs of insufficient
housekeeping in the tidying up of the book’s presentation. Is it to be Cross or
cross, Church or church, Mass or mass? All three alternatives may be found for
the same referent. However, such things apart, what Johnson has served us
with here is a book that is to be welcomed. It will have a durable shelf life.
University College Dublin

ALAN J. FLETCHER

Acta Cusana: Quellen zur Lebensgeschichte des Nikolaus von Kues, Bd. 1,
Lfg., 1: 1401–1437 Mai 17. Edited by Hermann Hallauer and Erich
Meuthen. (Hamburg: Felix Meiner Verlag. 1983. Pp. xvi, 199. €168,00. ISBN
978-3-7873-0387-8.)
Acta Cusana: Quellen zur Lebensgeschichte des Nikolaus von Kues, Bd. 1,
Lfg. 2: 1437 Mai 17 –1450 Dezember 31. Edited by Hermann Hallauer
and Erich Meuthen. (Hamburg: Felix Meiner Verlag. 1983. Pp. 467.
€268,00. ISBN 978-3-7873-0586-5.)
Acta Cusana: Quellen zur Lebensgeschichte des Nikolaus von Kues, Bd. 1,
Lfg. 3a: 1451 January–September 5. Edited by Hermann Hallauer and
Erich Meuthen. (Hamburg: Felix Meiner Verlag.1996. Pp. vii, 441. €198,00.
ISBN 978-3-7873-1242-9.)
Acta Cusana: Quellen zur Lebensgeschichte des Nikolaus von Kues, Bd. 1,
Lfg. 3b: 1451 September 5–1452 März. Edited by Hermann Hallauer and
Erich Meuthen. (Hamburg: Felix Meiner Verlag. 1996. Pp. 453. €198,00.
ISBN 978-3-7873-1283-2.)
Acta Cusana: Quellen zur Lebensgeschichte des Nikolaus von Kues, Bd. 1,
Lfg. 4: Literatur und Register zu Bd. 1. Edited by Hermann Hallauer and
Erich Meuthen. (Hamburg: Felix Meiner Verlag. 2000. Pp. 248. €198,00.
ISBN 978-3-7873-1440-9.)
Acta Cusana: Quellen zur Lebensgeschichte des Nikolaus von Kues, Bd. II,
Lfg. 1: 1452 April 1–1453 Mai 29. Edited by Johannes Helmrath and
Thomas Woelki. (Hamburg: Felix Meiner Verlag. 2012. Pp. 447. €268,00.
ISBN 978-3-7873-2219-0.)
Nicholas of Cusa (1401–64) is an important figure in Renaissance history—a churchman, intellectual, and bibliophile. The son of a prosperous

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boatman of Bernkastel-Kues on the Mosel River, he studied at leading universities and received a doctoral degree in canon law from the University of
Padua (1423). After attending the Council of Basel (1431–47) as a representative of a contestant in a fight over the Archbishopric of Trier, Nicholas
became a major conciliar theorist, presenting a vision of unity, representation, and concord in his De concordantia catholica. When the council fell
short of that ideal, Nicholas departed to serve Pope Eugenius IV (1431–47)
in his efforts to bring the Eastern churches into unity with Rome while
resisting the attempt of the Council of Basel to depose him. Nicholas also
worked to reconcile the German princes with the pope, earning the nickname “The Hercules of the Eugenians” and more tangible rewards: promotion
to the College of Cardinals (1448/49) and the Bishopric of Brixen in the
Tyrol (1450). His interests turned from law to theology and philosophy,
resulting in works advancing controversial ideas of “learned ignorance” and
“coincidence of opposites,” “enfolding” and “unfolding,” ideas for which he
remains a noted figure in Renaissance intellectual history.
Nicholas’s legation to the German lands (1451–52) involved efforts to
promote reform of the Church. These reforms were resisted and often
treated as ploys to subject the German church to the Roman Curia. Nicholas
was unsuccessful as a bishop, showing little flexibility; and he twice had to
retreat to Rome. He also tried promoting reform in the Roman Curia and
offered a concept of religious harmony in his reaction to the fall of
Constantinople in 1453. Nicholas died in Todi in August 1464 while promoting a crusade against the Ottoman Turks decreed by Pope Pius, who died in
Ancona shortly thereafter. Nicholas was buried in Rome, but his heart was
interred in the chapel of the hospital he built in his hometown.The hospital
still houses most of his extensive library.1
Although Nicholas has had more than one biographer, the full documentation for his life was not available before 1976. In that year, Erich Meuthen
and Hermann Hallauer began publishing Acta Cusana, a fully-detailed record
of the cardinal’s life and writings, noting all known texts from his hand, as
well as documents by other persons recording aspects of the cardinal’s
career or excerpts from longer sources. Many documents were found in
archives or have been edited for the first time from manuscript books. No
fact is too small to be recorded in this source.The nature of the project necessarily has made the pace of production slow, with sections of the work
appearing after years of delay. Although Acta Cusana is not yet complete,
the latest volume—covering the period April 1, 1452, to May 29, 1453—
offers an occasion for assessing the current state of a singularly useful project. Few historical figures have had the good fortune of having the most

1
This biography is summarized in Erich Meuthen, Nicholas of Cusa: A Sketch for a
Biography, trans. David Crowner and Gerald Christianson (Washington, DC, 2010).

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important sources for the study of their life’s progress so thoroughly documented. We can follow Nicholas in his progression from student of canon
law to cardinal—not just the broad outlines of his life but its smaller details.
These documents should be consulted in tandem with the authoritative
edition of Nicholas’s works prepared under the auspices of the CusanusKommission of the Heidelberger Akademie der Wissenschaften: Nicolai de
Cusa Opera omnia, iussu et auctoritate Academiae Litterarum
Heidelbergensis ad codicum fidem edita (Leipzig-Hamburg, 1932–). This
edition of treatises and sermons was begun well before World War II, interrupted by that conflict and resumed later. It is now nearing completion with
only a few significant works of the cardinal yet to be published.2 Some works
by Nicholas also have appeared in Cusanus-Texte [Heidelberger Akademie
der Wissenschaften, Philosophisch-Historische Klasse], (Heidelberg, 1929–).
Certain of the cardinal’s works also appear online in the Cusanus-Portal
(http://www.cusanus-portal.de/) of the Institut für Cusanus-Forschung,
Universität Trier (http://www.uni-trier.de/index.php?id=21334).
The entire project was designed to have three volumes, covering the following periods: 1401 to March 1452,April 1452 to April 1460, and May 1460
to August 1464. Throughout, Acta Cusana is chronological, with each item
assigned a unique number. Records of daily life and finance can be found surrounding memoranda on ecclesiastical politics or accompanying documentation of a treatise edited by the Heidelberger Akademie. The first volume
covers in detail the period from the cardinal’s birth to the end of the legation. It is divided into three parts, with the third (and longest) further divided
into two sections.The first of these parts is fairly brief, covering the period
from Nicholas’s birth through his education, his role at the Council of Basel,
and his break with it.The second part is much more extensive, focusing on
Nicholas’s labors for Eugenius IV. That same period saw an intellectual turn
from canon law to theology and philosophy. The documentation of
Nicholas’s writings almost vanishes in the wealth of detail on diplomatic
labors and other practical matters. The third and longest part treats
Nicholas’s German legation (1451–52), promoting reform and preaching the
Jubilee indulgence of 1450. Each portion is equipped with an itinerary of the
legation and a foldout map of the route.The reforming efforts of the legate,
the resistance he faced, and the issues he encountered (such as the defense
of the faith against the Hussites, the restrictions on suspect relics, and the
promotion of peace) all appear with every detail carefully documented.The
first volume concludes with its fourth part: a guide to the sources of the
other three. It contains an extensive list of abbreviations; a substantial bibli2
The completion of the project was celebrated prematurely in 2005; see Nicolai de
Cusa Opera omnia: Symposium zum Abschluss der Heidelberger AkademieAusgabe, Heidelberg, 11. und 12. Februar 2005, ed. Werner Beierwaltes and Hans
Gerhard Senger (Heidelberg, 2006).

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ography; and an alphabetical index to names, places, and topics. An additional index is dedicated to Nicholas’s own career. Other indexing covers
citations to the Bible and law.The entire volume ends with a brief section of
corrigenda.
Part 1 of volume 2 presents a long and difficult phase of Nicholas’s
career: his troubled episcopate in Brixen.The documentation for the period
April 1, 1452, to May 29, 1453, is very rich. Helmrath and Woelki have taken
up the challenge and methodology of their predecessors, listing every bit of
evidence in chronological order. The contents overlap somewhat with the
last part of volume I. Even as he began acting as bishop, Nicholas was continuing his business as papal legate, while appeals against his reform decrees
were made to Rome. Nicholas arrived in his new see city by April 7, 1452,
and soon attempted reforms. This section includes the statutes of the 1453
diocesan synod, which covered pastoral topics ranging from requiring the
faithful to receive communion to preventing butchers from selling meat on
Sundays. Correspondence about the attempted reform of the nuns of
Sonnenburg, which was particularly responsible for Nicholas’s troubles,
begins appearing early.3 Even while struggling with unreformed religious,
Nicholas attended to business such as approval of the wonder hosts of
Andechs;4 work to end a rebellion against Frederick III, king of the Romans;
and grants of favors to individuals. By fall 1452, Nicholas also was deep into
his correspondence with the monks of Tegernsee about books, including his
own. In May 1453 he was working on plans to erect a hospital back in Kues.
The documentation compiled by Meuthen and Hallauer and now by their
successors is impressive. More is forthcoming from Helmrath and Woelki,
covering the remaining years of Nicholas’s episcopate and his later years in
Rome. Some researchers may find the sheer quantity of material daunting.
Many of the texts are routine items, like the numerous grants of indulgences
made during and after the legation journey; and these items usually are summarized. Anyone looking for more complete copies will need to consult
other books or even examine the originals in situ. For the first volume of
Acta Cusana the indexing should suffice to lead scholars to relevant
sources. However, the monumental thoroughness of the new editors suggests that it will be years before the project is complete and provided with
detailed indexing, unless they can increase the pace of publication.The sheer
quantity of material, however, has illustrative value. Nicholas, as conciliar
father and envoy, left a substantial paper trail.As cardinal legate and diocesan
bishop, he was even more involved in paperwork and strife. It is a striking
testimony to Nicholas’s persistence that he was able to keep writing even
3
Morimichi Watanabe,“Nicholas of Cusa and the Tyrolese Monasteries: Reform and
Resistance,” History of Political Thought, 7 (1986), 53–72.
4
Three hosts, two reputed to have been consecrated by Pope Gregory I and the
third by Pope Leo IX, were venerated as relics in the Heiliger Berg at Andechs.

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while frequently on the move, engaged in governing a diocese or dealing
with daily life.
THOMAS IZBICKI

Rutgers University
Early Modern European

Sacred History. Uses of the Christian Past in the Renaissance World. Edited
by Katherine van Liere, Simon Ditchfield, and Howard Louthan. (New York:
Oxford University Press. 2012. xxiv, 339. $125.00. ISBN 978-0-19-959479-5.)
This volume grew out of two colloquia held respectively at Calvin College
(Grand Rapids, MI) in 2008 and at the University of Notre Dame’s London
Centre in 2010. Some participants at the second colloquium (such as J. L.
Quantin, Alexandra Walsham, and Matthias Pohlig) are not represented in the
present volume any more than are Margaret Meserve, Alison Frazier, and
Joanna Weinberg who are also acknowledged in the preface (p. xiii). The
volume contains thirteen papers divided into three sections—Church
History in the Renaissance and Reformation, National History and Sacred
History, and Uses of Sacred History in the Early Modern Catholic World.The
contributors include established scholars such as Anthony Grafton and Euan
Cameron as well as those of the younger generation such as Giuseppe
Guazzelli and Adam G. Beaver.Although on the whole the collection is interesting and well balanced, none of the papers deal with the specific theme of
sacred history, devoting attention instead to ecclesiastical history (Baronius
and the so-called Centuries of Magdeburg figure particularly prominently)
and its interaction with national history on the one hand and contemporary
religious politics on the other. In fact, Sulpicius Severus, the “inventor” of historia sacra is only mentioned once in passing (p. 77), whereas the fact that
Flacius Illyricus, the initiator of the Centuries, rediscovered and published
him in 1556 is not covered. No mention either is made of van Andel’s study
The Christian Concept of History in the Chronicle of Sulpicius Severus
(Amsterdam, 1976).
In fact, historia sacra was viewed by Sulpicius Severus and others in his
wake as a condensation and continuation of the biblical account of history
in a cultivated Latin style, intended to appeal to readers of Roman historical
authors such as Sallust or Tacitus and avoiding allegorical interpretation of
sacred events. As Sulpicius says in his book I, he managed to condense into
two short parts events that otherwise required several volumes. Sacred history in this strict sense of the term assumed a very marginal role in the
Renaissance as confessional “ecclesiastical histories” began to oust sacred
history as such. Now, as several contributions note, “ecclesiastical history”
goes back to the model set up by Eusebius of Caesarea, which consists of the
history of the Christian church from the time of the apostles onward.
“Ecclesiastical history” lends itself much more easily to confessional treat-

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ment than “sacred history.” Unsurprisingly, therefore, all the contributions
treat ecclesiastical history and not sacred history, be it as such or in conjunction with national history. The titles of the articles as well as their contents are revealing of the volume’s approach. These range from “Church
History in Early Modern Europe” (Grafton) and “Primitivism, Patristics and
Polemic in Protestant Visions of Early Christianity” (Cameron) to “Elizabethan
Histories of English Christian Origins” (Rosamund Oates) and “The Lives of
the Saints in the French Renaissance” (Jean-Marie Le Gall). Most articles, as
the preface notes, deal in fact with the Roman Catholic approach to ecclesiastical history in the confessional period.
Once it is accepted that the work as a whole is based on a misconception, the volume contains much interesting—although not altogether new—
material. This reviewer found the section on the conjunction of ecclesiastical and national history particularly coherent and rewarding.The authors in
this section go to some lengths to show convincingly, for example, the patriotic character of German history-writing serving as support to ecclesiastical
history (David J. Collins). This included works such as Schedel’s Chronicle
that should have been situated with precision as belonging to the historia
sacra genre.
University of Geneva

IRENA BACKUS

The Career of Cardinal Giovanni Morone (1509-1580): Between Council
and Inquisition. By Adam Patrick Robinson. (Burlington, VT: Ashgate
Publishing. 2012. Pp. xiv, 255. $124.95. ISBN 978-1-4094-1783-5.)
An unusual combination of intellectual, administrator, and saint, Giovanni
Morone was surely the best pope the Counter-Reformation Church never
had.Yet, at the same time, he spent much of his life tainted by suspicions of
heresy and shunned by a considerable proportion of his fellow cardinals. In
this book Adam Patrick Robinson tries to reconcile this apparent contradiction, charting the progress of Morone’s extraordinary career from twentysomething bishop of Modena through his successive roles as leading Catholic
reformer; the Inquisition’s most prominent victim; the presiding legate at
Trent; and, finally, in the twilight of his life, the grayest of graybeards advising
Pope Gregory XIII.The work draws extensively on the research and editions
of the Italian historians Massimo Firpo and Dario Marcatto but offers an interesting new synthesis that targets the problem of how to reconcile the two
images of Morone’s life and what it reveals about the state of the Church
during this crucial phase in its history.
Robinson’s main thesis is that overemphasis on Morone the victim has led
to a serious misrepresentation of his impact. Rejecting Firpo and Marcatto’s
view that Morone was a radical who found himself at odds with his times, he
instead makes a case for the essential pragmatism of his approach. Caught

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between such intractable problems as the struggle between conciliarism and
papalism and the theological and praxeological controversies raised by
Martin Luther, Morone, in Robinson’s view, tried to steer a middle path.
Although he supported granting the chalice to the laity and was willing to discuss the troublesome issue of clerical marriage, he nevertheless expressed
consistent mistrust of the papacy’s more vocal critics and enemies and—in
spite of his travails—maintained a lifelong commitment to established hierarchies of authority. For Robinson, Morone’s most interesting accomplishment
was thus not his martyr-like suffering at the hands of the Inquisitor popes
Paul IV and Pius V, but his willingness and ability to get things done in spite
of their hostility.
In so far as it goes, Robinson’s thesis about Morone’s importance is persuasive.At the very least, his contribution to the Counter-Reformation should
be as a foil not to his implacable enemies but to more constructive figures like
his lifelong friend Pope Pius IV (whose regime he did so much to support).
The understated nature of Robinson’s conclusions, however, means that many
questions about the broader implications of his argument go unanswered. If
Morone and his associates were not the radical figures that Firpo would like
them to have been, what does that signify about the nature of Catholic
Reform? Throughout the book Robinson teases with passages hinting at the
essentially reactionary motivations of all those who implemented the reforms
of these years, yet that sits uneasily with his general optimistic view that those
reforms were on balance a good thing. A different observer perhaps might
have taken a less charitable view of Morone’s role in the regulation of religious expression and the restoration of papal autocracy.That, however, would
require a very different reading of the Counter-Reformation as a whole than
the one Robinson is prepared to present here.
Oxford Brookes University

MILES PATTENDEN

Francisco de Borja y su tiempo: Política, religión y cultura en la Edad
Moderna. By Enrique García Hernán and María del Pilar Ryan. [Bibliotheca
Instituti Historici Societatis Iesu, Volumen 74; Consejo Superior de
Investigaciones Científicas, 2012.] (Valencia: Albatros Ediciones; Rome:
Bibliotheca Instituti Historici Societatis Iesu, 2011. Pp. xiv, 800. ISBN
Albatros: 978-84-7274-294-9; ISBN Institutum: 978-88-7041-374-8.)
As the editor of the Institutum Historicum Societatis Iesu notes in his
prologue to this collection of Spanish, English, and Italian essays, Francisco
de Borja’s historical image has suffered since Otto Karrer’s biography
(Freiburg im Breisgau, 1921). Although Borja’s life (1510–72) did not constitute the main focus of the papers presented at the 2010 Valencia commemorative conference, it forms the analytical touchstone of almost all the
papers delivered, here published almost in their entirely (forty-two out of
forty-three, plus one not presented). The principal theme emerging from the

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book is that a socioeconomic nexus with various elites was critical to the
first century of the Society of Jesus.
Some articles encompass Borja’s legacy. Paul Begheyn explains the creation and reception (until 1976) of Karrer’s controversial biography, whereas
Jodi Bilinkoff argues that Pedro de Ribadeneyra’s 1592 biography portrayed
Borja’s secular and ecclesiastical lives as complementary, the pursuit of “both
Christian renunciation and masculine honor . . . balanc[ing] saintly virtue and
noble duty” (p. 455). Manuel Ruiz Jurado’s sketch of Borja’s personality as
consistent throughout his life resonates with Miguel Navarro Sorní’s depiction of Valencian spiritualism, out of which Borgia arose, as a deep-rooted,
smoothly-evolving phenomenon (against Marcel Bataillon’s Erasmist thesis);
Elizabeth Rhodes, in contrast, suggests Borja’s “intimacy with God” remains a
poorly understood “transcendental history” (pp. 685–86).
Most of the articles focus more narrowly on a specific facet. Francisco
Pons Fuster contrasts the Christian humanism of Borja’s father to Borja’s
Counter-Reformation ascetic ritualism, and Rafael García Mahíques examines
the importance given by Borja to images as tools for mental prayer. Francisco
Fernández Izquierdo argues that Borja’s stint in the Military Order of
Santiago (1539–49) only stimulated an already highly developed spirituality
but was not responsible for his entrance into the Jesuit Order in 1546; this
decision was not motivated by his actions as viceroy of Catalonia (1539–43),
according to Ricardo García Cárcel.The editors’ own contribution (“Ignacio
de Loyola y Francisco de Borja, frente a frente [1539–1552]”) highlights how
Borja’s evolution toward the Jesuits resulted from a highly articulated and
personal aristocratic network supporting them that predated the death of
his wife in 1546 and his official entrance into the society. This process was
effaced by Jesuit propaganda after 1550, which gambled correctly that
depicting Borja’s entrance as surprising had an “amazing . . . impact on the
nobility” (p. 744), with ample recruitment and philanthropic possibilities.
Eduardo Javier Alonso Romo explores how Borja’s own eremitical instincts,
so “clearly divergent from the Ignatian institution”—but similar to Simão
Rodrigues’s, S.J., in Coimbra—relate to the crisis in the 1550s within
Rodrigues’s Province of Portugal, part of a larger crisis in the Society at Rome
whose financial resolution is attributed by Francisco de Borja Medina Rojas
to Borja’s international courtly-philanthropic networking. According to
Robert Maryks, Borja played a key role in continuing the policy of the first
two Jesuit generals of accepting conversos into the Society against widespread opposition (the policy was rescinded in 1596). Philip Endean deemphasizes debates about Borja altering Loyola’s policies, arguing instead for
the importance of how his joining the “new, small and suspect Society of
Jesus was . . . a notable milestone in the process by which that Society established itself” through “an alliance with the highest echelons of civil society,
in a way that pious Jesuit rhetoric of poverty and humiliations can all too
easily occlude for us” (p. 204).

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Alison Weber, Bárbara Mujica, and Stefania Pastore clarify Borja’s relationships with Castilian mystics (St. Teresa de Jesús, St. Juan de Ávila, the
alumbrados), whereas Valentín Moreno Gallego focuses on Borja and mystics’ publishers—a question linked to José Luis Bertrán Moya’s analysis of
Jesuit use of print under Borja’s leadership as a “multimedia communication” strategy (p. 395). Jesuits under Borja also pragmatically negotiated
local anti-converso bigotry as well as the Inquisition’s suspicions that mystics were heretics. Emilio Callado Estela and Alfonso Esponera Cerdán stress
Borja’s longstanding relationship with Dominicans’ attempts to reform their
order (successfully) and convert Moriscos (unsuccessfully). Finally, Wifredo
Rincón García reviews Borja iconography in Spanish art, whereas Borja
Franco Llopis investigates Borja’s own artistic patronage aesthetically and
ideologically.
Other articles investigate larger contexts such as Manuel Gracia Rivas’s
clarification of the Borja family’s relationship to the town of Borja, Santiago
La Parra López’s analysis of Borja noblemen’s violence in Valencia, and the
dynasty’s tight control of Jesuit foundations discussed by Javier Burrieza
Sánchez. On an ecclesiastical note, the baroque strategies of Borja-inspired
Jesuit homiletics are discussed by Federico Palomo; Colm Lennon analyzes
the failed 1560s Irish Jesuit mission; and Benjamin Ehlers looks at the Jesuits’
equivocal relationship to Valencia’s Archbishop Juan de Ribera, leading up to
Morisco expulsions in 1609. Sabina Pavone considers Borgia’s generalate the
turning point in the evolution of Jesuit policy toward “subjects” (i.e.,“members of the Company” [p. 467]) leaving or being dismissed. Liam Matthew
Brockey, Patrick Williams, and Fernando Andrés Robres explore Borja family
networks of power, highlighting (respectively) the influential role of one of
Borja’s sons in Philip II’s efforts to unite his kingdoms of Valencia and
Portugal; the extensive church patronage of the Duke of Lerma (Borja’s
grandson and Philip III’s chief minister); and the controversial (and short)
viceregal career of Borja’s half-brother, Pedro Luis Galcerán de Borja. David
Martín López concurs that Jesuits’ secular and ecclesiastical patronage networks (Province of Toledo) synergized with the Madrid court, an elite support system whose Habsburg and Valencian members made possible Borja’s
1670 canonization (Amparo Felipo Orts).
Some studies contribute to our understanding of Borja’s broader context,
like Gretchen Starr-LeBeau’s synthesis of Inquisition history and Mary
Elizabeth Perry’s examination of Jesuit attempts to use schools to convert
Morisco children (including Borja’s own in Valencia). Robin Vose argues that
Borja’s Dominican contemporaries downplayed missionary efforts in
Valencia for either Indians or Moriscos and stressed existing Christians’ salvation, contrasting strongly with Borja’s global promotion of Jesuit missions
(Sergi Doménech García). Teresa Canet Aparisi explores the integration of
Valencian jurists into the polysynodal Habsburg monarchy, which permitted
both “unity and diversity” (p. 57) within distinct territorial jurisdictions ruled

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centrally by interconnected councils sharing a juridical-political culture of
“civic convivencia” (p. 29). Maximiliano Barrio Gozalo analyzes Spanish
diocesan restructuring, which culminated in papal acceptance of royal control (1536).
Further afield, Juan Francisco Pardo Molero argues that the transformation of viceregal imperial rule (1506–40) raised lesser nobility and even nonnobles to posts previously assigned to royal dynasts, and Gianclaudio Civale
points out that Jesuits were real and not just allegorical milites Christi, by
contributing to disciplining and moralizing military conduct through codesof-engagement manuals and battlefield assistance (noncombative) to soldiers. Paolo Broggio proves that internal disputes within the Jesuit College in
Rome in the 1550s did not align along “nations” (a standard ecclesiastical
organizing structure) but rather along cross-national factional lines within
the Spanish Empire’s elites.
Despite the somewhat uneven and disjointed effect of such a large
volume, the overall impact is outstanding; it expands our understanding—
archivally and historiographically—both of Borja himself and of his larger
historical context, the composite Catholic monarchy of the Spanish
Habsburgs. It is a must-read for all historians of the sixteenth century.
Santa Clara University

FABIO LÓPEZ LÁZARO

From Priest’s Whore to Pastor’s Wife: Clerical Marriage and the Process of
Reform in the Early German Reformation. By Marjorie Elizabeth
Plummer. [St. Andrews Studies in Reformation History.] (Burlington, VT:
Ashgate Publishing. 2012. Pp. xviii, 340. $119.95. ISBN 978-1-4094-41540.)
One of the most immediately visible changes brought by the Protestant
Reformation was clerical marriage. Some late-medieval priests had concubines or short-term sexual relationships with women—despite all the
attempts of the Church at reform—but this was still very different from
having a wife. Almost all of the continental Protestant reformers married, and
some (such as Luther) married former nuns. Despite this dramatic shift, relatively few studies within the vast outpouring of recent Reformation scholarship have investigated clerical marriage, and most of these have concentrated on the theological debate surrounding it. From Priest’s Whore to
Pastor’s Wife takes this theological debate into account, but focuses primarily on the way in which clerical marriage was experienced on the ground
by those who were spouses in such marriages and those who were their
neighbors.
In this excellent study, Marjorie Elizabeth Plummer investigates a broad
swath of Germany stretching from Swabia through Franconia to Saxony. Her

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evidentiary base includes manuscript sources from more than thirty city,
state, and church archives ranging (alphabetically) from Augsburg to
Zwickau and includes city council records, personal letters, visitation
reports, court testimonies, and many other types of documents. Along with
providing careful qualitative analysis, she also has compiled a database of
more than 2500 men who became Lutheran pastors in the first decades of
the Reformation; thus when she makes quantitative statements, she has the
numbers to back them up. Many of these men had been Catholic priests, but
she also studies the experiences of former monks and nuns who married and
examines the women and men who married former clerics and nuns. In
some places those women had been priests’ concubines; Plummer examines
the consequences of regularizing their already existing sexual relationships
and also the reasons why clerical concubinage continued for decades even
when marriage was an option.
The areas that Plummer studies were all within the Archbishoprics of
Mainz and Magdeburg, which, during the period under study—1513 to
1545—were under the jurisdiction of Archbishop Albrecht of Brandenburg.
Albrecht was a committed pluralist—the debt he had incurred to purchase a
papal dispensation allowing him to assume multiple offices led to the indulgence sale that sparked the Reformation—but an opponent of clerical concubinage and even more of clerical marriage. His measures to stop this were
ineffective, however, as were those of secular authorities, including the
emperor. The story Plummer tells is not primarily one of a change imposed
or blocked from above, however, but a process negotiated locally, as communities and individuals wrestled with the spiritual, political, economic,
familial, and social consequences of allowing clergy to marry. In this, the
book resonates with current debates about same-sex marriage in ways that
neither Plummer—nor anyone else—most likely could have anticipated
when she began her research.
Plummer examines why it was difficult for people to accept the woman
and children living in the pastor’s house as his legitimate wife and children,
and provides many examples of popular opposition, from people jeering at
pastors’ wives in the street as “priests’ whores” to pamphlets labeling married
monks and nuns as “nothing more than common whores and knaves” (p.
131). She notes that some reformers and evangelical political authorities
were themselves ambivalent. As Protestant pastors preached and wrote
defenses of their new married state, they may have been trying to convince
themselves as well as their congregations that it was respectable and godly.
Popular support was there as well, of course, expressed most dramatically in
the decision to marry a member of the clergy. Plummer’s chapter on those
who made this choice is especially welcome and effective, noting the wide
variety of circumstances and reasons, including religious convictions, family
pressure, and economic circumstances, that convinced the (mostly) women
to take this step. As other new studies have also emphasized, the

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Reformation was a process, not an event. From Priest’s Whore to Pastor’s
Wife makes very clear why marriage was at the heart of this process.
University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee

MERRY WIESNER-HANKS

L’Académie de Lausanne entre Humanisme et Réforme (ca. 1537–1560).
By Karine Crousaz. [Education and Society in the Middle Ages and
Renaissance,Vol. 41.] (Leiden: Brill. 2012. Pp. xviii, 608. $158.00. ISBN 97890-04-21038-7.)
Research on early-modern educational reforms has tended to focus on
the Holy Roman Empire, where both Protestant and Catholic rulers founded
academies and universities to train the pastors, teachers, and civil servants
needed to staff the expanding bureaucracies of the early-modern state.
There are relatively few works on the Reformed academies of Francophone
lands, in part because few records from those schools survived the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. Crousaz’s book, which originated as a dissertation at Lausanne, provides significant new insights into the motives and
operation of the first Protestant academy to be established in a Frenchspeaking territory.
Crousaz’s goal is to counter the impression given by earlier studies of the
Lausanne Academy that focused undue attention on the study of theology, as
if the Academy were chiefly a school for future pastors. Her examination of
the Academy’s creation and early years demonstrates the importance of the
school more broadly as a training ground for Bern’s future elite and as a
place where French Protestants could send their sons to get the best humanist education available without fear of persecution. She uses a broad range of
sources, both published and unpublished, to give a detailed picture of both
personnel and pedagogy at Lausanne.
Crousaz presents her findings in six lengthy chapters. The first sets the
religious and educational context for the creation of the Academy, especially
the spread of humanism and Bern’s conquest of the Vaud. In chapter 2 she
provides a detailed history of the school’s development over its first two
decades. The question mark in the title reflects the fact that although Bern
endowed lectureships in Greek and Hebrew for educating the territory’s
clergy in 1537, the Academy itself was not founded until the early 1540s. Her
study continues through the Academy’s “golden years” during the 1550s to
the major controversy that led most of its professors and students to leave
Lausanne for Geneva, where they helped found the Geneva Academy. The
third chapter looks at finances, not only the salaries for teachers and the cost
of buildings and books but also the public stipends used to support boys
studying at the Academy. Chapter 4 discusses the professors at the Academy,
highlighting the importance of Curio Secundo Curione and Maturin Cordier,
whose reputations as humanist pedagogues helped draw students to

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Lausanne. Chapter 5 examines the students, particularly those who received
public stipends. Chapter 6 discusses the curriculum at all levels, from the
lowest grades in the schola privata where boys began the study of Latin to
the lectures in Greek, Hebrew, arts, and theology in the schola publica,
which corresponded to the lower level of a university. In several appendices
she reproduces documents illustrative of the curriculum and gives the
names of boys who received stipends from Bern.
One might wish that Crousaz could have continued her study beyond
1560 to show how the Academy evolved beyond the first generation. By concentrating on a relatively short period of time, however, she is able to go into
greater depth. It is that depth and level of detail that sets her book apart from
earlier works about the Lausanne Academy and makes it a welcome contribution to the study of early-modern education more generally.
University of Nebraska–Lincoln

AMY NELSON BURNETT

Orthodox Russia in Crisis: Church and Nation in the Time of Troubles. By
Isaiah Gruber. (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press. 2012. Pp. xi,
299. $48.00. ISBN 978-0-875-80446-0.)
Isaiah Gruber’s new book offers a lively account and an exciting analysis
of Russia’s “Time of Troubles,” 1598–1613—a period of dynastic collapse,
social upheaval, and foreign invasion.
The book is built in carefully planned layers. After a general stage-setting
introduction, it opens with an exploration of the trope of Russia as “New
Israel,” or God’s Chosen People, imbued with particular sanctity but also burdened with weighty responsibilities. Gruber notes that most, if not all, earlymodern Christian states invoked New Israel imagery, but in Muscovy these
ideas gained heightened trenchancy because of Russia’s status as the sole
surviving Orthodox state.
The second chapter switches gears, documenting the ups and downs
(mostly ups) of monastic business ventures, especially the salt trade, the
inflows and outflows of their accounts, and their favored position relative to
the tsarist administration.This chapter, in combination with its sequel, chapter 4, will prove essential to the layered argument that Gruber builds. The
bottom-line finding is that the monasteries and the patriarchate were widely,
and accurately, viewed as in cahoots with the tsarist administration, cushioned from economic hardship by their great wealth and unsympathetic to
the desperate plight of starving Muscovites. This reputation would contribute to the most important religious trend that Gruber highlights as the
book progresses: the disintegration of any shared sense of Orthodox truth
and the opening of a cacophonous space for conflicting and competing
claims to representing divine will.

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If the even-numbered chapters explore ecclesiastical wealth, political
insider status, and lack of charitable activity, the odd numbered chapters
follow the political ideologies and rhetorics of legitimation concocted by
church leaders through the dizzying sequence of regime changes of the
Troubles.When the ancient tsarist line died out with Ivan the Terrible’s last
son in 1598, the newly created patriarch, Iyov, manufactured what Gruber
casts as a startlingly novel set of justifications for the elevation of Boris
Godunov to the throne. Iyov experimented and tinkered, ultimately producing a game-changing set of criteria. Along with familiar elements of
tsarist succession such as divine will and clerical affirmation, Gruber identifies the innovative introduction of legitimation through popular choice
(vox populi) and the bestowal of the throne by a woman (vox feminina)—
in this case, the widow of the late tsar and sister of Boris. These new elements of vox populi and vox feminina continued to surface alongside more
traditional invocations of heredity and divine selection in the calisthenics of
legitimation produced for each new aspirant to the throne. Although the
vox populi idea may not have been quite as novel, nor as short lived, as
Gruber asserts, the concept undoubtedly exerted exceptional force during
the Troubles.
With the introduction of the vox populi as a manifestation of the will of
God, Iyov and Godunov unintentionally let the genie out of the bottle, and
the notion that the people might have an active role in determining the
proper Orthodoxy and legitimate Orthodox tsar spread. With the sudden
death of Godunov and the triumph of the First False Dmitrii in 1605, Iyov fell
from power, to be replaced by a new patriarch more in line with the new
tsar.The same pattern reproduced itself with each turnover: new ruler; new
patriarch; new defense of Orthodoxy against the heretics and infidels of the
previous regime. Discredited by their intimacy with fallen rulers and by their
heartless enjoyment of wealth and power as the people around them
starved, Orthodox leaders lost their position as arbiters of the faith in the
eyes of the newly mobilized population. As religious leaders and their particular visions of Orthodoxy rose and toppled in rapid sequence, Gruber
argues, any sense of a monolithic Orthodoxy shattered, and the definition of
Truth was up for grabs, to be defined by the victors, or by the people.
Moreover, tying the pieces of this masterful book together, Gruber shows
that the pervasiveness of the underlying mythos of New Israel, established in
the first chapter, lent added bite to the struggle to define and protect
Orthodoxy: if the battle were lost, divine wrath might sentence Russia to the
banishment and dispersal that had been the fate of the Jews.
Gruber has written a riveting and original account of a fascinating time.
If the publisher would issue a paperback edition, this would be an ideal book
for classroom use.
University of Michigan, Ann Arbor

VALERIE KIVELSON

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567

The Sacrament of Penance and Religious Life in Golden Age Spain. By
Patrick J. O’Banion. (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press.
2012. Pp. xii, 233. $69.95. ISBN 978-0-8271-05899-3.)
Recently, Spanish history has seen a movement away from the social/religious histories of the 1980s and 1990s, toward studies that focus on particular theological concepts and sacramental activity. In his new study of the
sacrament of penance, Patrick O’Banion has tried to combine the old and the
new. He both analyzes religious literature and attempts to present a portrait
of actual Spaniards engaging with the sacrament in a variety of ways.
O’Banion argues that rather than the reflection of a clerical/lay hierarchy,
early modern confession was a constant negotiation between confessor and
parishioner. In the first two chapters, O’Banion takes the reader through the
basic aspects of the sacrament: how to become a confessor and how to confess. He provides an overview of the theological issues involved, as well as
the expectations about the relationship between the confessor and the confessant. He then details the process of confession, including a discussion of
the basic physical rituals of kneeling and crossing oneself. In chapter 3,
O’Banion explores the Catholic Reformation’s attempt to regulate Easter
confession. Unexpectedly, parish confessions declined toward the end of the
sixteenth century. He argues that it was not that laypeople ignored the confessional; rather, they evaded the surveillance of parish priests (and friends
and neighbors) by confessing to other clergy. Indeed, in the next chapter, he
analyzes how the bula de la cruzada, which allowed purchasers to choose
their own confessors, gave Spaniards surprising agency in their confessional
practices. O’Banion then examines the roles of class and gender on the confessional experience, followed by a look at how Spain’s converso, morisco,
and gypsy populations engaged with the sacrament.
O’Banion’s work reinforces the research on religious life in early-modern
Spain that has clearly demonstrated that neither the pre- nor the postTridentine Church was effective at imposing a rigid orthodoxy on Spain’s
independent-minded populace; however, he missed some key opportunities
to present a stronger argument. For instance, O’Banion tends to rely on speculation and rhetorical questions rather than archival research as he mulls
over why people did or did not confess to their parish priests. A deeper
interrogation of parish records, particularly episcopal visitations, might have
provided him with more specific information about relationships between
clergy and laity.There also is the nagging question of exactly who is the focus
of the study. Although at points he acknowledges regional and urban/rural
differences, his analysis nevertheless relies on a homogenized notion of a
“Spaniard” that did not exist in the early-modern period. Current research
has emphasized that the relationship between clergy and laity differed from
one region to another and the authority of the Church was weaker in rural
areas than in cities. Without a doubt, a parishioner in Barcelona interacted

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with a more educated, skilled clergy than his or her counterpart in the outback of La Mancha, and those differences thwart attempts at the creation of
a “Spanish” experience of confession. Indeed, based on that homogenization
of religious experience and regional identity, O’Banion makes the circular
assertion that the sacrament of confession played a role in the development
of a Spanish identity. Despite these issues, The Sacrament of Penance and
Religious Life in Golden Age Spain contributes to our understanding of
belief and practice in early-modern Spain and will be of interest to historians
of Spain and religious historians more broadly.
University of Mary Washington

ALLYSON M. POSKA

Narratives of Adversity: Jesuits on the Eastern Peripheries of the Habsburg
Realms (1640–1773). By Paul Shore. (New York: Central European
University Press. 2012. Pp. x, 384. $60.00. ISBN 978-615-5053-47-4.)
Paul Shore examines the role played by Jesuits on the periphery of the
Habsburg monarchy during the late-seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.
He has examined an impressive range of archival sources to construct a
series of related essays about the Jesuit center at Trnava, as well as Jesuit residences in Koš ice, Preš ov, and Levoča in eastern Slovakia and at Sárospatak
in northeastern Hungary. Efforts to revive the Catholic cause faced
entrenched opposition from Evangelical and Reformed communities in this
region. Jesuits were heavily reliant on the political support and patronage
offered by the Habsburg court. Their center of activity was established at
Trnava, where a Jesuit college and then university from 1635 was the key
institution for training clergy (including Ruthenian Greek Catholic priests).
Shore’s work makes clear that the 1670s proved to be a crucial turning point
in Catholic fortunes in Habsburg Hungary. Responding to an ill-conceived
plot by some leading aristocrats, the court took the opportunity to centralize governance of Hungary and to repress non-Catholic religion. Jesuits were
witnesses to, and beneficiaries of, the violence that followed. Shore highlights, for example, the events witnessed by Jesuits at Koš ice in September
1673. The diary entry for the community detailed the execution of some
rebels, including a Calvinist who was impaled while still alive. The diary
entry then calmly proceeded to list the guests invited to the Jesuit residence
for lunch that day. Meanwhile, earlier Jesuit victims of violence were promoted as martyrs for the Catholic cause. In 1619 three Jesuits had been
killed at Koš ice by soldiers of the Calvinist prince of Transylvania, György I
Rákóczi. Rákóczi’s daughter-in-law, Zsófia Báthory, had been forced to convert to Calvinism at her wedding.After her husband’s death, Báthory reverted
to Catholicism and provided funds during the 1670s to build a Jesuit church
to commemorate the Koš ice martyrs. Báthory’s support also was critical at
Sárospatak, where the Calvinist college was forcibly closed in 1671 and the
buildings handed over to the Jesuits for use as their new residence. That
same year Habsburg forces were on hand at Preš ov when the Evangelical

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college was seized and then turned over to the Jesuits. Shore explains that
Jesuits often served as chaplains for Habsburg armies. He follows this close
relationship as far as Belgrade in the 1720s, where the state paid for a school
to be run by Jesuits.The school was initially located, perhaps understandably,
near the army barracks in the city.
Although the Jesuits directly benefited from state support, this also
endangered their mission. Repeated revolts against Habsburg rule in the late
seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries brought violence and disruption
to the region. Protestant bitterness was frequently directed against the
Jesuits during these revolts. In the wake of success for anti-Habsburg forces
in 1706, Ferenc II Rákóczi (Zsófia Báthory’s grandson) announced that the
Jesuits had two weeks to leave Hungary. In the midst of all these challenges,
Shore argues that the Jesuits found comfort in a shared narrative of triumph
in the face of adversity. This Jesuit perspective offered the prospect of victory over all obstacles, whether that meant silencing obstinate heretical
preachers, exorcising troubled souls, or educating people in true doctrine.
After the Rákóczi rebellion was suppressed, the physical dangers for Jesuits
in Hungary diminished. However, Shore is rather unimpressed by the lack of
ambition and creative energy that followed during the mid-eighteenth century. He concludes with the damning verdict that, although the Jesuits themselves did not realize it, their project was well on the way “to outliving its
usefulness when external forces put an end to the Jesuit presence in
Hungary” (p. 279).
Trinity College Dublin

GRAEME MURDOCK

Benedetto XIII (1724–1730): Un papa del Settecento secondo il giudizio
dei contemporanei. By Orietta Filippini. [Päpste und Papsttum, Band 40.]
(Stuttgart: Anton Hiersemann. 2012. Pp. viii, 427. €158,00. ISBN 978-37772-1211-1.)
Only very few popes seem to have received such an irrevocable judgment
as did Benedict XIII Orsini (1724–30): A quixotic ascetic, frittering away
time with ceremonies rather than ruling Church and State, which he had
handed over to his dubious minion Niccolò Coscia and others for despoilment. Even well-meaning commentators could only mollify this verdict by
referring to extenuating circumstances such as his naïve trust and his blemished knowledge of human nature and its abysses—a rather controversial
conclusion for such a well-versed theologian as Orsini.
These clichés don’t live up to the complex historical reality, as was
demonstrated by Beate Mehlin’s study Gestörte Formation: Erdbebenbewältigung in Benevent und Verwirchlichung von Herrschaft im
Kirchenstaat 1680–1730 (Tübingen, 2003). She provided conclusive evidence of how cunningly the then-archbishop of Benevento employed the

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devastating earthquakes of both 1684 and 1702 to his personal benefit.
Having been buried and saved twice, he thus celebrated his personal divine
election and in the meantime made the town dependent on himself and his
family by providing credit to the ruined city.
The present study makes an effort to differentiate this seemingly onedimensional papacy as well; however, it regrettably neglects to implement
Mehlin’s results. Its merits, though, consist in presenting an extensive
panoramic view of the contemporary evaluation of pontifex and papacy,
ranking from standard historiography to the ramified correspondence of
second and even third-ranked members of the Curia.This reconstruction of
Benedict XIII’s memoria is driven by the question how—judging by these
pro and contra statements—his style of government might be characterized
and to what extent conclusions can be drawn regarding his actual objectives and approaches. Making this collective memory available required
nearly heroic diligence for which the author deserves praise and is in itself
already a considerable achievement. Using these sources to provide an accurate scientific judgment sine ira et studio, however, proves useless since all
these emotionally loaded evaluations remain either hagiographic or critical
of Orsini’s arriviste career: the holy and fey pope who trusted bad counselors and so on. New approaches shine through, but are not thoroughly followed up. Benedict XIII actually did not install a cardinal-nephew as regent
but preferred to create his own minion, Cardinal Coscia, ex nihilo, which is
in fact a reaction to Innocent XII’s bull Romanum decet pontificem (1692),
not (as suggested by the author) forbidding nepotism but managing to bring
it down to a still very considerable dimension. Hence this reform brings
something new to Rome: the favori not related by blood, who—just like his
predecessor, the cardinal-nephew—was showered with privileges and by
their relentless exploitation managed to amass a fortune and to create his
own network, soon pervading every single part of the reign and the administration. In stark contrast to the cardinal-nephew, however, this social and
financial rampage brings about the minion’s downfall. Here, Rome applies a
different measure—but why? Comparison and further inquiry might have
been appropriate here. One explanation seems logical: Especially a pope of
such a spiritual reputation as Benedict XIII needed someone who could act
as a “lightening rod” and was held responsible for the worldly aspects of the
regime. Of course, this function also was adopted by a cardinal-nephew,
hereby often considerably damaging the family’s reputation. The entire critique of the Orsini’s papacy was actually attributed to Coscia, which must
be seen as a deliberate and well-considered calculatio.The image of a politically absent pope can therefore definitely be refuted. But this was already
the case before the present study, which regrettably did not devote its great
effort and ingenuity to more relevant problems and questions related to the
Orsini pontificate.
Université de Fribourg

VOLKER REINHARDT

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Late Modern European
Devotional Cultures of European Christianity, 1790–1960. Edited by
Henning Laugerud and Salvador Ryan. (Dublin: Four Courts Press. Distrib.
ISBS, Portland, OR. 2012. Pp. x, 209. €29,95; $45.00 paperback. ISBN 9781-84682-303-9.)
This fine collection of scholarly essays, most of which were first delivered
as workshop and conference papers, explores a variety of devotional cultures and devotional objects in Europe from the end of the French
Revolution to the eve of the Second Vatican Council. Devotional Cultures of
European Christianity, 1790–1960, opens with two excellent scene-setting
pieces, one Protestant and one Catholic. The Protestant case study is an
exploration by Arne Amundsen of the “devotion of the simple and pure” in
the Haugean movement in Norway, a movement reminiscent of Pietist and
Evangelical movements elsewhere.The Catholic case study is a characteristically thoughtful discussion by Sheridan Gilley of “Devotions and the Old
Rite” as practiced in Britain, especially Ireland, from the long nineteenth century to the 1960s. Gilley’s rejection of simplistic dichotomies between supposedly popular and voluntary as opposed to official and imposed devotions
during the nineteenth-century Catholic restoration exposes the limitations
of Weberian analysis as well as more recent, instrumentalist interpretations
of widespread shifts in religious behavior.
Catholic devotional themes raised by Gilley are explored further in the collection in essays by Brendan McConvery on the effect of Redemptorist missions in spreading religious conformity (and arguably Catholic guilt)
throughout Ireland and by Sarah Maclaren on the beatification of pious Italian
housewives as a means of combating secularism.A further two articles focus
on devotional objects popularly believed to have miraculous properties: Eli
Seland looks at how Marian apparitions were represented on “miraculous”
and other medals, whereas Ewa Klekot examines the use of paper or fabric
Sacred Heart scapulars by soldiers in the Spanish Civil War to stop bullets.
Catholic and Protestant denominational rivalries are explored by Peter
McGrail in an analysis of English hymnody; by Frances King in a richly illustrated micro-study of sectarian emblems displayed in Northern Irish homes;
and by Henrik von Achen in a particularly fine exploration of medieval
revivalist art and architecture across Europe that shows how neo-Gothic, as
the self-consciously Christian style of the nineteenth century, sought to reenchant a secularized, postrevolutionary world.
One of the main advantages of a multiauthored volume on a discrete area
of scholarship is that it allows students and scholars to take stock of recent
historiographical shifts.What emerges from Henning Laugerud and Salvador
Ryan’s edited volume is that the notion of an imposed “devotional revolu-

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tion” on the Catholic world seems finally to have been overturned; that the
“feminization” of Catholic piety in the nineteenth century appears to have
been a European-wide phenomenon; and that scholars with an interest in
devotional shifts over time are increasingly drawn to the study of artifacts
rather than simply to prayers, liturgies, and rituals. As is invariably the case
with edited collections of this kind, geographical coverage is patchy and the
level of detailed research on particular topics uneven. In this particular
volume, Protestant devotional cultures are dealt with considerably less
extensively than Catholic ones. Only one essay, an examination by Georgios
Kordis of neo-Byzantine style in Greek Orthodox iconography, looks at devotion in the Orthodox Church. Although it is refreshing to see both
Scandinavia and the Iberian Peninsula represented in this survey of modern
Christian piety, the Catholic devotional cultures of Poland, the Baltic States,
and the Habsburg Empire are conspicuous by their absence. Even Hungary
is mentioned only as the backdrop for an (albeit interesting) article about
Franz Liszt’s Via Crucis by Peter De Mey and David Burn.
The volume ought, in this reviewer’s opinion, more properly to have been
called “Devotional Cultures of Western and Northern European Catholicism,
1790–1960.” Alternatively, it might have been expanded so as to become
more genuinely representative of European Christianity as a whole: Eastern
as well as Western, Orthodox and Protestant as well as Catholic. The book,
nevertheless, offers a well-researched and stimulating collection of scholarly
essays on European devotional currents that will be of interest to scholars
and students alike.
University of Strathclyde, United Kingdom

MARY HEIMANN

Lezioni di storia ecclesiastica. Il medioevo. By Ernesti Buonaiuti. Edited by
Francesco Mores. [Collana di Studi della Fondazione Michele Pellegrino.]
(Bologna: Società editrice il Mulino. 2012. Pp. 309. €23,50 paperback. ISBN
978-88-15-24125-2.)
Francesco Mores of the Scuola Normale Superiore of Pisa has edited in
this book the dispense or class notes of a course on medieval church history
offered in the 1905–06 academic year at the Pontifical Roman Seminary.The
course’s professor was the twenty-five-year-old Ernesto Buonaiuti, a priest of
the Diocese of Rome.The course’s content is interesting, detailed, grounded
in primary sources, but not particularly extraordinary. Judged from our contemporary perspective, it reveals the usual Western focus of church history,
ignore the roles of women in the period, and betray a prejudice against and
a superficial knowledge of Islam. They form the basis for a slightly revised
version that Buonaiuti published in 1914. As such, these dispense do not
deserve to be published. Their significance, however, comes not from their
content, but from the identity of the author and from the circumstances surrounding their recent discovery.

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573

In 1906 Buonaiuti was attacked in La Civiltà Cattolica because of an article he had written on Maurice Blondel. He was subsequently dismissed from
his position at the Roman Seminary and was one of the most prominent
Italians who, after 1907, were called “modernists.” In the wake of the modernist crisis he was both laicized and excommunicated. He died in 1946.
Francesco Mores, in doing research in 2008 on an introductory chapter to
writings by the young Angelo Roncalli, the future Pope John XXIII, discovered a reference to Roncalli’s order in 1906 of a copy of Buonaiuti’s dispense, most likely to assist him in his lectures in church history at the
Bergamo seminary. Roncalli and Buonaiuti had been fellow students at the
Roman Seminary—at least for a short time—and had even been roommates.
Mores could not locate the work among Roncalli’s papers, but he eventually
discovered it as one of two works donated by Geremia Pacchiani to the
public library in Bergamo, in a collection now located in the room dedicated
to John XXIII. Pacchiani was Roncalli’s successor as professor of church history when Roncalli became the seminary’s spiritual director in 1919.Written
on the frontispiece of one of the two sets of dispense was “Don Angelo
Roncalli a don Pacchiani” (p. 35). Mores suggests that Roncalli’s use of the
work for his own lectures and conveyance of it to his successor can be interpreted as a sign of Roncalli’s intellectual openness—he continued to use
what he considered an intellectually valuable source, even when Buonaiuti
had been dismissed from his position.
Any positive connection between Roncalli and Buonaiuti, Mores reports,
was definitely played down during the process leading toward the beatification of John XXIII, when Roncalli’s connections to modernism were continually being probed. Witnesses during the process denied that Roncalli had
ever attended any of Buonaiuti’s lectures. According to these individuals, if
Buonaiuti had given Roncalli books to read, the future pope stopped reading
them when he found something objectionable. If he did go on walks with
Buonaiuti, it was only at the order of the superiors or to try to persuade
Buonaiuti to be less excessive in his thinking.After reading John’s dossier in
1977, Pope Paul VI wrote in the margin:“Sta bene: cresce la stima per papa
Giovanni e la pietà per Buonaiuti” (Fine. Esteem for Pope John is growing as
well as compassion for Buonaiuti, p. 59.)
The importance of this book lies more in its fifty-six-page introduction
than in the work it introduces.The introduction is a fascinating story of a surprising discovery that perhaps adds one more detail to what we know about
John XXIII, pope and saint.
Catholic Theological Union

STEPHEN BEVANS, S.V.D.

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Zwischen katholischem Milieu und bürgerlicher Mittepartei: Das
Historische Dilemma der CVP. By Urs Altermatt. (Baden: hier + jetzt,
Verlag für Kultur und Geschichte. 2012. Pp. 263. €39,00. ISBN 978-303919-254-0.)
With this compilation of updated publications interspersed with previously unpublished essays, leading Swiss intellectual and Catholic historian
Urs Altermatt offers a sweeping yet substantial assessment of the Christian
Democratic People’s Party of Switzerland (Christlichdemokratische
Volkspartei der Schweiz, or CVP). In honor of the party’s centenary, this
volume collects the work of a scholar who has spent more than four decades
studying Europe’s second oldest Christian Democratic party. By casting the
intricacies of Swiss party development into a broader European context,
Altermatt has produced a valuable primer for students of political
Catholicism and Switzerland.
A defender of the theory of social-moral milieus (advanced by, among
others, Seymour Martin Lipset), Altermatt locates his treatment of the CVP
explicitly within a framework of the evolution and ultimate decline of the
Swiss Catholic milieu. As throughout Western Europe, Swiss political
Catholicism took hold amidst nineteenth-century confrontations between
liberalism and Catholicism fueled by industrialism and nationalism. Rooted
in the Catholic People’s Party of 1894, the CVP was founded in 1912 as the
Conservative People’s Party, a name it retained until 1957, when it became
the Conservative Christian Social People’s Party. (It was in 1970 that the
party changed its name to the Christian Democratic People’s Party.) Even as
Altermatt traces the integration of Catholics into national life, he consistently
stresses the party’s ties to its milieu. Following the interwar “golden years” of
milieu Catholicism and having suffered nothing like the horrors of the Third
Reich, Swiss Catholics were less inclined than their German compatriots to
dismantle confessional barriers. Catholic support nevertheless remained sufficiently broad and deep that, like other Christian Democratic parties, the
CVP enjoyed its greatest electoral successes in the two decades following
World War II. But as Switzerland secularized, the CVP soon joined fellow
European Christian Democrats in eschewing an explicit commitment to
Christianity to embrace a moderate bourgeois conservatism. Not surprisingly, the deconfessionalization of Christian politics looked different depending on the party system.
Indeed, even as its history reflects broader European trends, the CVP has
traveled a distinctly Swiss path, especially as architect of the so-called “magic
formula” of party politics that governed Switzerland from 1959 to 2003.
Altermatt suggests that the CVP’s descent into the “second league” of
national parties—occasioned by the loss of more than one-third of its voters
between 1983 and 2011—was evident already in the early 1970s, when, following the Second Vatican Council, socially mobile and urban Catholics

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abandoned the party. But it was the rise of the right-wing, anti-immigrant
Swiss People’s Party (SVP) in the 1990s that dealt the CVP its greatest blow.
By transcending its Protestant origins to become Switzerland’s first truly
interconfessional conservative party, the SVP succeeded where the CVP had
not. At its hundred-year anniversary, the CVP remains a disproportionately
Catholic party absent a powerful and loyal Catholic milieu. Ideologically,
Altermatt fears the CVP’s commitment to Christian-inspired values risks
becoming an empty formula or simple marketing tool. Politically, he argues
only a merger or alliance with the Conservative Democratic Party of
Switzerland (Bürgerlich-Demokratische Partei Schweiz, or BDP) can save
the CVP from devolving to a regional party.
Altermatt’s survey is as learned, lucid, and accessible as his other influential works. Even as he demonstrates a fundamental sympathy with his subject, his nuanced mastery of the CVP’s longue durée provides readers unparalleled insights. In light of the close attention he pays to regional and
confessional differences, it is perhaps surprising that ethnicity and gender
play no role in his analysis. How did the belated enfranchisement of Swiss
women in 1971 affect the CVP’s electoral fortunes? What effect has female
leadership had on the party? How has the CVP responded to controversies
surrounding guest workers, immigration, and Muslim residents in the light of
the SVP’s antiforeigner platform? If we consider the ways in which Catholic
milieus were gendered, the historically disproportionately female support of
other European Christian Democratic parties, and Switzerland’s relatively
high percentage of noncitizens, Altermatt’s expert answers to these questions would have been welcome.
In sum, his focus on the CVP’s “historical dilemma” of dependence on a
Catholic milieu deftly highlights the challenges European Christian
Democrats have faced and continue to face into the twenty-first century.
Franklin & Marshall College
Lancaster, PA

MARIA D. MITCHELL

The Policies and Politics of Pope Pius XII: Between Diplomacy and
Morality. By Frank J. Coppa. (New York: Peter Lang. 2011. Pp. viii, 205.
$36.95 paperback. ISBN 978-1-4331-0521-0.)
The Life & Pontificate of Pope Pius XII: Between History and Controversy.
By Frank J. Coppa. (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America
Press. 2013, Pp. xxx, 306. $29.95 paperback. ISBN 978-0-8132-2016-1.)
These additions to the “Pius Wars” are worthy contributions to bringing
greater understanding to that conflict.Along with Robert Ventresca’s Soldier
of Christ (see review, ante, 99 [2013], 379), these books approach the
wartime pontiff with such a clear mastery of the arguments that both Pius’s
supporters and his denigrators will find it difficult in the future to expect any

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serious student to accept the hoary myths that have clouded or exalted that
pontiff’s reputation.
The two works of Frank Coppa under consideration here are virtually the
same in their assessment of Pius. They differ, however, in organization and
level of editing. The Life & Pontificate is more informative and much better
edited. Both are based on a sound reading of the available sources. It should
be noted that Coppa’s citations are too often based on secondary works
when the primary sources are easily available and citable; furthermore, many
citations of fact appear unnecessary, and he tends to use sources indiscriminately.These quibbles aside, these books provide significant insight into Pius’s
life and works; in Life & Pontificate especially, he details the interpretations
of both sides on practically every issue of controversy.
We are now past the polemic that characterized the two periods of Pius
interpretations: the first, stimulated by Rolf Hochhuth’s The Deputy (New
York, 1964) and the second by John Cornwell’s Hitler’ s Pope (New York,
1999). Serious scholars agree that Pius was not Hitler’s pope, favoring the
Nazis, nor was he the single person who did more than anyone else to save
Jews from the Holocaust. As Coppa points out, there is much more to Pius
than the Holocaust, and what best serves our purpose now is to find his motivation for not making that great thundering denunciation that, Coppa
believes, his predecessor would have made had he lived to see the Nazi
machine at its most deadly.
Coppa finds that motivation in Eugenio Pacelli’s home background and in
his long service in the papal diplomatic corps. Pacelli as pope did not rise
above his background and training. He was a taciturn child in a family devoted
to the papacy. He was spoiled by his mother to the extent that he was able to
avoid seminary boarding by living and eating at home, and to develop
extraordinary self-confidence. Along with his intellectual brilliance and mastery of languages, by the time he was ordained he was fully prepared for a
career in the papal diplomatic service. So important does Coppa feel these
factors to have been and so instrumental in Pius’s papal actions that he
devotes nearly half of each book to his family background and his years as a
diplomat. Pacelli spent thirty-eight years (1901–39) in the diplomatic service,
twice as long as his pontificate.
In what is the best part of both books, Coppa details those years and
emphasizes the lessons learned by Pacelli, primarily under the tutelage of the
Vatican secretary of state, Pietro Gasparri, from whom the young diplomat
learned caution and moderation when dealing with problems. Coppa goes
into great detail regarding Pacelli’s service to Pope Benedict XV during World
War I and argues that his experience there paved the way for his own actions
in World War II. Benedict followed the policy of “impartiality”; this meant that
the papacy did not condemn either side in that struggle.The pope wished to

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stay above the fray, because there were Catholics on both sides, and he
wanted the opposing factions to use his services to broker an end to the war.
Pius learned from this to apply the same policy during World War II, which, as
Coppa points out, was a vastly different war.Yet Pius clung to it, thereby earning the enmity of both sides: the Germans who read into the pope’s statements hostility to the Nazi regime, and the Western Allies who could not
understand why Pius did not clearly denounce Nazi atrocities.
During his service as secretary of state (1930–39), Pacelli, having been
trained by Gasparri to avoid confrontation and search for the possible,
became a brake on Pope Pius XI’s impetuous behavior, counseling moderation in the Vatican’s approach to Hitler and Mussolini. Coppa destroys once
and for all the myth that Pius XII was the ideological and political successor
of Pius XI.They were two different popes.
In the chapter on Pius’s silence on the Holocaust, both sides are given
their due. Coppa stresses the fact that Pius himself stated, that he did not
loudly protest the killing of the Jews because he feared that a protest would
make things more difficult for Catholics under German control and would
have no effect on the Nazi regime.
Coppa shows how Pius changed after the war and abandoned the policy
of impartiality to condemn the Soviet Union and to excommunicate communists and fellow travelers. He shows the differences in the two situations and
why Pius felt that he could not condemn Nazi Germany but could condemn
the Soviet Union—in Nazi Germany, the Church still existed and could carry
out her mission; in the Soviet Union and the satellite states, Stalin persecuted
the Church.Therefore, there was no point in pursuing a policy of impartiality
in the latter case.
Throughout the books, Coppa defends Pius against the charge of antisemitism. In a chapter on the papal response to Zionism and Israel, Coppa
shows how Pius refused to recognize either the movement or the new state
for fear that the Palestinian-Israeli conflict would damage the Holy Places and
instead pressed for the internationalization of Jerusalem.
Finally, he makes an interesting comparison between Pius and his nineteenth-century predecessor, Pius IX. He shows, by using papal statements,
how Pius was both traditional and modern: modern in terms of his liturgical
and religious reforms, and traditional in his opposition to ideological reform.
Coppa opens both books with the statement that Pius is the most studied
but least understood of modern pontiffs. His books will go a long way toward
changing that perception.
Saint Louis University (Emeritus)

JOSÉ M. SÁNCHEZ

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The Catholic Bishops of Europe and the Nazi Persecutions of Catholics
and Jews. By Vincent A. Lapomarda, S.J. (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen
Press. 2012. Pp. x, 310. $149.95. ISBN 978-0-7734-2932-1.)
In The Catholic Bishops of Europe and the Nazi Persecutions of
Catholics and Jews, Vincent A. Lapomarda, associate professor of history at
the College of the Holy Cross, seeks to understand the various responses of
European Catholic bishops to National Socialism and particularly the latter’s
systematic persecution and murder of Jews. His goal is to be comprehensive
in scope by covering the episcopacy in Austria, Belgium, Bulgaria,
Czechoslovakia, Estonia, France, Germany, Greece, Hungary, Italy, Latvia,
Lithuania, Luxembourg,The Netherlands, Poland, Portugal, Romania, Russia,
Spain, Turkey, and Yugoslavia. Such a task is daunting indeed, perhaps even
requiring multi-volumes, and would, in theory, surpass in scope previous
serious studies by John Morley (Vatican Diplomacy and the Jews during
the Holocaust 1939–1943 [New York, 1980]) and Michael Phayer (The
Catholic Church and the Holocaust, 1930–1965 [Bloomington, IN, 2000]).
By contrast, Lapomarda’s work in this regard is exceedingly superficial and,
at best, serves as a conduit of basic information on clergy who, at times,
chose to resist Nazism. In reality, the work reads like Catholic apologetic literature of old.
In his foreword to the book, Ronald J. Rychlak, professor of law at the
University of Mississippi, describes Lapomarda’s previous research as “precise and demanding” and insists,“There are no shortcuts in Fr. Lapomarda’s
work” (p. i). Unfortunately, such praise cannot be given to the current study.
Repeated historical inaccuracies and analysis mire the book. For example, in
his chapter on Germany, Lapomarda falsely and, it could be argued, misleadingly portrays Conrad Gröber, archbishop of Freiburg, as critical of the April
1, 1933, national boycott of Jewish-owned businesses. He incorrectly reports
that in 1937 state officials arrested 141 priests of the Würzburg diocese for
“allegedly supporting Jews” (p. 88). Later, in his “Retrospect” concluding
chapter, Lapomarda perpetuates the myth that Cardinal Michael von
Faulhaber, archbishop of Munich and Freising, defended Jews in his 1933
Advent sermons. Through his secretary, Faulhaber personally rejected such
an interpretation of his sermons. Likewise, in his chapter on Austria,
Lapomarda acclaims Father Georg Bichlmair’s assistance to Jews, but completely ignores the Jesuit’s repeated antisemitic utterances that John
Connelly uncovered so clearly in his recent study, From Enemy to Brother
(Cambridge, MA, 2012). In chapter 7 on Czechoslovakia, Lapomarda fallaciously depicts Father Jozef Tiso, the president of the Nazi-aligned Slovakia,
as “strongly opposed to the Nazi policy against the Jews” (p. 119). Here
Lapomarda would be best served by reading James Mace Ward’s study, Priest,
Politician, Collaborator: Jozef Tiso and the Making of Fascist Slovakia
(Ithaca, NY, 2013). After discussing the Catholic hierarchy in Greece,
Lapomarda writes, “While none of these prelates stand out for their particu-

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579

lar contributions in helping Jews, it can be assumed that, given the atmosphere of the religious population, that they did what they could to protect
the Jews” (p. 199). Such contradictory and deceptive analysis should be
apparent even to the most uninformed reader.
Throughout his study, Lapomarda appears to have chosen to follow the
research of less than reliable sources. In addition, there is no evidence in the
book that he has conducted any archival research of his own. In fact, the
book has no citations. Instead, he includes a fifty-eight page “Bibliographical
Essay,” in which he reveals his awareness of a broad range of secondary
sources on the Catholic Church’s encounter with National Socialism.
Unfortunately, it appears that Lapomarda has chosen to ignore much of this
literature and, instead, to utilize only sources that support his apologetic narrative. The sources he does mention in his narrative are regularly questionable. For example, should a historian rely on news outlets such as the
Catholic News Agency for clinching evidence when drawing conclusions
about the actions of individuals, or should any serious historian refer a reader
to Wikipedia for further information on any given topic? Most serious scholars would answer in the negative.
Ultimately, Lapomarda’s book fails to offer anything new for scholarship
on the Catholic Church under Nazi Germany. Similarly, it is factually misleading and wanting for the average reader. In the end, Lapomarda has sadly
produced a work that is of little use to anyone, especially to serious readers
of history.
Stonehill College, MA

KEVIN P. SPICER, C.S.C.

His Grace Is Displeased: Selected Correspondence of John Charles
McQuaid. Edited by Clara Cullen and Margaret Ó hÓgartaigh. (Dublin:
Irish Academic Press. Distrib. ISBS, Portland, OR. 2012. Pp. viii, 280. $89.95.
ISBN 978-1-908928-08-5.)
There is a fashion among certain circles of the Irish chattering classes that
sees the late John Charles McQuaid, archbishop of Dublin (1940–71), as the
source of so much that was wrong with Irish society and the Irish Church.
This selection of his letters, at face value, would seem to aim at contributing
to that fashion. We are told in the introduction that McQuaid “retained the
sectarian border antagonism of his childhood” (p. 3). Such a statement begs so
many questions that it is difficult to know where to begin to address it.To say
the least, no evidence is adduced in the pages of this book that would confirm, without serious qualification, such an assertion. Nor is it a proposition
that would have passed muster with the late Mercy Simms, wife of George
Otto Simms (sometime archbishop of Dublin and Armagh in the Church of
Ireland), who consistently defended McQuaid from this type of barb.

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In the brief introduction to the work almost the entire space is given over
to trying to undermine McQuaid’s character, and indeed there is much to
criticize, but there is nothing on the methodology of selection that the editors employed in choosing for publication the letters that appear here. Nor
do they say much about the extent of McQuaid’s archive so that the reader
could form some sort of judgment as to why these letters are to be regarded
as, presumably, the most important.
The very title of the work suggests that we are to be given a diet that will
enable us to form an opinion of McQuaid as a crotchety “naysayer” at odds
with the culture in which he found himself. But in fact, in a number of
instances, we find a man not indicating his displeasure but responding to
pleas for financial help, either for deprived children or for the dependents of
imprisoned political dissidents, although in the latter case McQuaid insisted
that his contributions be kept anonymous and that they had “no political
meaning whatever” (p. 134). It also is odd in the context of the chapter of letters dealing with “Republicans” that the editors do not advert to McQuaid’s
intervention to bring about the IRA ceasefire at Christmas 1971, nor do they
reproduce an important exchange with the then-apostolic nuncio to Ireland,
Archbishop Gaetano Alibrandi, in which McQuaid explains his thinking and
actions in that extraordinary episode.
There are further indications in the work not of McQuaid’s displeasure
but of his capacity to forgive those who have crossed him or who unfairly
criticized him. These included the Irish Times, which in a famous editorial
misrepresented his role in having two plays banned from the Dublin theater
festival in 1958 and whose editor the archbishop ultimately corresponded
with in a most friendly manner. There also is the case of Ronnie BurkeSavage, to whom McQuaid wrote over an incident when that turbulent Irish
Jesuit was most certainly in the wrong: “There is nothing to forgive. I have
long since forgotten” (p. 184).
In general, this volume of letters lacks good critical apparatus so that, at
times, one is left wondering just who McQuaid’s correspondents are. In a
number of instances, dates of letters are clearly wrong, and the names of
individuals are rendered incorrectly; for example, Sir Lauriston Arnott (p.
247) becomes Sir Lewiston Arnott three pages later.At times, we are treated
not to letters—and why reproduce letters from anonymous correspondents—but to excerpts from newspapers such as those dealing with
McQuaid’s 1934 objection to mixed male and female athletic events (pp.
38–69), which reproduce almost exactly the same material in a manner that
becomes simply tedious.
One might have expected in the conclusion that the editors would have
attempted some estimation of the value and importance of McQuaid’s correspondence and to have given some analysis of the light the letters throw

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on the man and his outlook. Instead, we are given badly edited extracts from
his Lenten regulations for 1949 and 1971. The point of reproducing them
here is far from clear.
The last word should perhaps be given to McQuaid himself. In refusing to
give an interview to the well-known Dublin journalist Louis McRedmond,
who wanted to write a series of articles on the archbishop for the Irish
Times, McQuaid said that such a project could only be done with reference
to his archives,“which will remain closed for long after my death. And they
will contain many surprises . . .” (p. 222).The editors of this volume had done
little to indicate what those surprises are.
OLIVER P. RAFFERTY, S.J.

Loyola University Chicago

American
Heaven in the American Imagination. By Gary Scott Smith. (New York:
Oxford University Press. 2011. Pp. xvi, 339. $29.95. ISBN 978-0-19973895-3.)
What is life in heaven like? On which grounds are people admitted to
celestial bliss? When studying the answers, we discover not one uniform set
of Christian ideas, but a range of significant variations and emphases that
challenge the historian to collect, analyze, and interpret the sources and thus
contribute to social and cultural history. Gary Scott Smith, who teaches history at Grove City College in Pennsylvania, collected the answers of theologians and popular authors of North America, or more precisely, of the United
States. He begins with Increase Mather’s Meditations upon the Glories of
the Heavenly World (1711) and ends with the memorial service held for the
pop-singer Michael Jackson in Los Angeles on July 7, 2009.Although he occasionally makes reference to Catholics, Mormons, and Jews, the author’s focus
is on the WASP majority—white, Anglo-Saxon Protestants. Only in the interesting chapter on the admission of black slaves to heaven (as seen from both
the white and the black perspective) does the author widen his focus.
As far as the interpretation of the sources is concerned, Smith stays broadly
within the “Lang-McDannell paradigm” (as suggested in Colleen McDannell
and Bernhard Lang, Heaven: A History [New Haven, 1988; 2nd ed., 2001]).
This paradigm distinguishes between two emphases in the description of life
everlasting: a theocentric one that thinks of the blessed as eternally enjoying
God’s presence and worshiping the Trinity, and an anthropocentric one that
considers heaven a place for meeting one’s partners, family, and friends, as
well as for a multiplicity of cultural activities. In American portraits of heaven,
there is a clear shift from Puritan theocentrism to nineteenth- and twentiethcentury anthropocentrism. Smith discerns several recent trends in American

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heavenly speculations. Although still considering faith in Christ as the standard condition for admission to heaven, prominent evangelical preachers
refuse to pronounce a verdict on the eternal fate of atheists, Buddhists,
Muslims, or Jews, leaving the decision, as they say, to God; people nowadays
pick up their ideas about heaven more from the popular media than from religious books and sermons; recent popular discourse on the afterlife tends to
offer therapeutic or entertainment-oriented portraits of the afterlife—individuals will finally come to terms with their past lives, or they will find themselves in a never-ending amusement park.
All of this is well observed and argued. However, the book has its limitations. Did Americans formerly derive their notions of heaven only from
books written and sermons preached in America, as the author seems to
imply? They also were significantly inspired by two European authors who,
although mentioned in the book, do not receive the attention there that
they deserve: John Bunyan and Emanuel Swedenborg. The work of these
writers helps account more fully for belief in the continuation of the marital bond in the afterlife, a belief that Smith claims was held by most
Christians of all eras.The truth is that Jesus reportedly explained that, in the
other world, people “neither marry, nor are given in marriage” (Luke 20.35),
and those who preferred to think otherwise had to find clever interpretations of the biblical passage. But Americans had read the second volume of
the Pilgrim’s Progress (as they did the first), absorbing its message, and
Swedenborg’s Heaven and Hell gave rise to more than the celestial novels
of Elizabeth Stuart Phelps. Nevertheless, Smith has written a stimulating and
well-documented book that will further promote thinking on this subject of
perennial interest.
University of Paderborn, Germany

BERNHARD LANG

The Pietist Impulse in Christianity. Edited by Christian T. Collins Winn, G.
William Carlson, Christopher Gehrz, and Erich Holst. (Cambridge, UK:
James Clark & Co. 2012. Pp. xxvi, 340. $40.00 paperback. ISBN 978-0-22768000-1.)
The twenty-five essays in this volume as well as its title originated in a
2009 conference held at Bethel University in St. Paul, Minnesota.The editors’
introduction emphasizes the pietist roots of Bethel University and its parent
institution, Bethel Seminary, in the nineteenth-century influx of Swedish
Baptist pietists to America further leavened by strains of German Pietism,
Anglo-American revivalism, Wesleyanism, and the “Holiness Movement.” The
editors further note the range of understandings of Pietism from that of a
specific historical-theological development arising within late-seventeenthcentury German Lutheranism to that of an ongoing “Pietist impulse” for spiritual renewal and regeneration

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583

that unites historically, geographically and culturally disparate phenomena
such as Pietism, Puritanism, Wesleyanism, revivalism and evangelicalism. . . .
Pietism began as an effort to “leaven the church” with a heart religion and
break the bonds of a culturally captive Christianity—this challenge remains relevant for today’s Christian communities. (p. xxii)

The essays are grouped into eight parts:“Pietism and the Pietist Impulse”
(two chapters), “Continental German Pietism” (five chapters), “The Pietist
Impulse under the Conditions of Modernity” (three chapters), “Wesley the
Pietist” (three chapters), “Nineteenth- and Twentieth-Century Trans-Atlantic
Scandinavian Pietistm” (four chapters), “The Pietist Impulse in North
American Christianity” (four chapters), “The Pietist Impulse in Missions and
Globalizing Christianity” (three chapters), and “Benediction” (one chapter). In
general, the essays share an effort to defend Pietism from charges that the
movement’s emphasis upon religious experience and regeneration frequently
degenerated into individualism and anti-intellectualism (for example, references to Mark Noll’s The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind [Grand Rapids, MI,
1994]), an egregious charge for authors defending and promoting pietism as
the key to evangelical higher education (nine of the contributors are directly
affiliated with Bethel University). Roger Olson in his chapter “Pietism: Myths
and Realities” phrases this theme most sharply when he concludes that
Pietism “does not deserve the vicious calumnies so often hurled against it by
its uninformed critics who need to either drink deeply at the wells of knowledge or drink not at all and be silent about that which they are ignorant” (p.
16). Given this refrain through many of the chapters, the volume would have
benefited by including a chapter focused on the historiography of Pietism
research.
There are too many papers in this collection to comment on any one of
them. Some of the contributors are recognized scholars in Pietist studies (e.g.,
Peter Erb, Douglas Shantz, Jonathon Strom, and Gracia Grindal). The title is
misleading since the essays largely focus on an apologetic for a particular
stream of pietism in America rather than historical Christianity as a whole.
Works of major scholars of Pietism (e.g., Johannes Wallmann and Martin
Brecht) are mentioned only in passing, and others such as David Hempton on
transatlantic Wesleyanism are not mentioned at all.There is no reflection on
American publishing of Pietist works (e.g., Benjamin Franklin was reissuing
Johann Arndt whereas Philipp Spener is not translated into English until the
mid-twentieth century). Like many collections of conference papers, this
volume appears as a disparate collection with little editing either for redundancies or typographical errors.
Boston University School of Theology (Emeritus)

CARTER LINDBERG

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The Catholic Calumet: Colonial Conversions in French and Indian North
America. By Tracy Neal Leavelle. (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania
Press. 2012. Pp. ix, 255. $39.95. ISBN 978-0-8122-4377-2.)
In 1730, in an audience with the French governor in New Orleans, Illinois
leaders Chicagou and Mamantouensa presented Jesuit missionaries with two
calumets, or ceremonial pipes. The pipes symbolized the shared FrenchIllinois attachment to Christianity and the diplomatic and military alliance
between the two groups (pp. 1-2). In The Catholic Calumet: Colonial
Conversions in French and Indian North America, Tracy Neal Leavelle uses
this indigenous cultural vessel as a symbol for the ways in which the Illinois
incorporated Catholicism into their lives. In a broader sense, it also is a
symbol that aptly describes the results of many decades of encounter and
cultural translation, particularly the exchange of spiritual gifts, among Native
Americans and French missionaries in the Upper Great Lakes region. The
Calumet existed among many cultural vessels—both indigenous and
French—that took on new meanings as native and French peoples interacted
across the long seventeenth century. Indian peoples assigned Mass, Catholic
songs, and prayers indigenous meanings as they performed them more and
more in their own spaces. French missionaries baptized and converted, but
were themselves moved to different expressions of their own religion due to
close interactions with Indian peoples, traditions, and culture (p. 10).
Leavelle shows the importance of human relationships, showing that the
trade in ideas—not just the trade in skins and iron implements—was crucial
to Native-French alliances. Trade between the Ottawas and the French, for
example, was not based solely on material goods. Ottawa worldviews had
long valued cooperation and exchange.When the French arrived in the seventeenth century, they brought with them (from the Ottawa perspective)
new opportunities for cooperation and idea exchange. The Ottawas developed strategic positions in the Great Lakes region to take advantage of the
French presence in North America (p. 27).
Leavelle uses his sources in fresh ways. His use of Illinois dictionaries produced by Jesuit linguists furthers his discussion by showing how language
served as another cultural vessel. Scholars have long used The Jesuit
Relations to supply historical and ethnographic detail for this period.
Leavelle utilizes the Relations as a religious text. In this way, he is able to
ascertain particular historical expressions of spirituality—both on the part
of French missionaries as well as on the part of Native peoples. Leavelle also
teases out how the ways missionaries practiced their religion often was different from how they idealized their religion and how they expressed religious doctrine. Leavelle argues for a clear understanding of Jesuit spirituality
in the early-modern era to appreciate fully their cultural encounters within
Indian communities. Additionally, to represent better the diverse nature of
the Jesuit writings and their individual authors, Leavelle uses full citations of

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585

the Thwaites edition of the Relations.The Thwaites narratives are much less
polished than the widely publicized Jesuit Relations, and they have individual authors. Thwaites’s unpolished and frank narratives add a depth and
dimension that serves Leavelle’s story well by enabling him to represent
better the diversity of Jesuit writings and their individual authors.
Leavelle pays balanced attention to the French and indigenous peoples,
and complicates ideas about Catholicism and expressions of Indian culture
and tradition. He considers how Catholicism was, for many Indians, an
authentic expression of their lives. This results in a rich and engaging story
about the expanding, retracting, and ever-evolving relationships between the
missionaries and various Algonquian-speaking nations of the Upper Great
Lakes and Illinois country.
University of Southern Indiana

SAKINA M. HUGHES

There Were Also Many Women There: Lay Women in the Liturgical Movement in the United States, 1926–59. By Katharine E. Harmon. (Collegeville, MN: Pueblo, an imprint of Liturgical Press. 2012. Pp. xxi, 373. $39.95
paperback. ISBN 978-0-8146-6271-7.)
In There Were Also Many Women There Katharine Harmon provides a
comprehensive, detailed, carefully documented history of a much-neglected
topic: the role of lay women in the liturgical movement in the United States
during the critical decades preceding the Second Vatican Council. In the
preface Harmon clarifies her perspective on the liturgical movement, whose
aim extended far beyond the revision of texts to the renewal of the social
order led by members of the lay apostolate whose lives were centered in the
liturgy. After a brief, skillfully prepared review of European “Preparations for
America (c. 1870–1926),” Harmon explores the ideas and life experience of
eleven laywomen whose contributions were crucial to the American liturgical movement: Justine Bayard Ward, Ellen Gates Starr, Maisie Ward, Sara B.
O’Neill, Nina Polcyn Moore, Dorothy Day, Catherine de Hueck Doherty, Ade
Bethune, Therese Mueller, Mary Perkins Ryan, and Florence Berger. These
women were involved in the liturgical movement in multifarious ways, from
writings and lectures on the reform of liturgical music and art (Justine Ward
and Bethune) to the promotion of the proliferating literature on liturgical
reform (Starr, Maisie Ward, O’Neill, and Polcyn Moore) to experiments in
community centered upon the liturgy (Day and de Hueck Doherty) to the
creation of rituals for the Catholic home (Mueller, Ryan, and Berger).
Harmon’s historical narrative explains the connections among these women
and their links to Catholic women’s movements such as the National Council
of Catholic Women and the Grail.
Harmon’s history is carefully contextualized; she pays close attention to
her Catholic laywomen’s experience of American culture from the 1920s

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through the 1950s.We see how these laywomen were both fully acclimated
to American life and genuinely countercultural in their vision. Especially
effective are the sections where Harmon helps us to hear the voices and see
into the life experience of the “semi-anonymous” laywomen who wrote to
the editors of Orate Fratres or dared to speak up after lectures delivered
during National Liturgical Weeks. These sections enrich our understanding
of the grassroots nature of the laity’s involvement in liturgical reform, as well
as the tensions and conflicts within the movement. One common refrain that
comes across in the sections on Harmon’s eleven liturgical activists and her
examples drawn from the semi-anonymous: a call to the clergy and some
members of the elite within the liturgical movement to provide practical
answers to the questions and concerns of the laity. Laywomen wanted to
know how to implement what they heard at National Liturgical Weeks or
read in Orate Fratres back home in the parish or neighborhood setting (p.
330). They wanted opportunities to attend Dialogue Masses, which were
much more likely to elicit a positive reaction from their non-Catholic
spouses than traditional Masses. They wondered “why family communion
has never been preached, or why isn’t a day set aside for it every month?” (p.
329). They hoped to find ways to incorporate devotions dear to them from
the “old country” into American immigrant communities (p. 329). They
sought to find room for familiar traditional devotions to the Sacred Heart, the
Sorrowful Mother, and the Little Flower into the new, emerging liturgical
scene (pp. 337–38).
Harmon’s history of laywomen in the American liturgical movement fills
crucial gaps in our knowledge of American Catholic history and the experience of women in American religion. It also provides scholars and students
with a fuller, deeper understanding of the lived experience of the laity in a
crucial period in American and Catholic history. It is a model for future historians of the American laity.
Colby College

DEBRA CAMPBELL

Church and State in the City: Catholics and Politics in Twentieth-Century
San Francisco. By William Issel. (Philadelphia: Temple University Press.
2012. Pp. x, 325. $29.95 paperback. ISBN 978-1-4399-0992-8.)
One myth associated with San Francisco is that it has been a city controlled by radicals where religion has had little influence. However, the historian William Issel in Church and State in the City: Catholics and Politics
in Twentieth-Century San Francisco has expertly debunked this notion. In
an exhaustively researched and well-written monograph he has ably
achieved his goal of reconsidering San Francisco history by taking into
account the role of Catholic faith-based activism. In this new interpretation,
Issel has made a strong case for the interaction of faith and politics in the
City by the Bay.

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587

Issel’s work, presented through an introduction, eleven thematic and generally chronological chapters, and a conclusion, has given the reader a fresh
look at the people and events that shaped San Francisco’s history. In the early
chapters the author has shown how Catholic Action supported organized
labor during the Progressive and New Deal eras. Significant personalities
such as Peter Yorke,Archbishop Edward Hanna, his successor John Mitty, and
later Bishop Hugh Donahue supported major work stoppages, including the
1901 Waterfront Strike and the 1934 Longshoremen’s Strike. Such interventions are used to illustrate Issel’s thesis of how Catholic faith-based activism
was highly influential in the city’s history.These men and others used Rerum
Novarum (1891) and similar documents as the basis for their support of
organized labor.
Beyond organized labor, Issel’s work describes several other social
issues of importance in twentieth-century San Francisco. He addresses the
role of women, various aspects of the civil rights movement, city redevelopment, desegregation of public education, and the fight to keep the city
free of major interstate highways. He closes the book by addressing the
social and cultural impact of the 1960s counterculture on the city. Issel
concludes that although San Francisco was not unique in demonstrating
faith-based activism by Catholics, “its history demonstrates a distinctive
expression of the American encounter between religion and politics” (p.
253).
Issel has done a commendable job in presenting a revisionist history of
twentieth-century San Francisco, a city he knows well from living there
and his past scholarly works on the subject. The monograph is richly contextualized and well organized; Issel has an engaging narrative style.As one
familiar with the history of the city, especially the period 1900 to 1935, the
book engaged this reviewer from the beginning. The very helpful introduction presents Issel’s thesis, which is more than adequately proven
through the text.
Although this monograph has clearly demonstrated how Catholic faithbased activism was influential in many aspects of twentieth-century San
Francisco, the text is uneven in how the Church and its teachings were manifested. For example, when discussing area redevelopment, desegregation in
schools, and San Francisco’s “freeway revolt,” the role of the Church seems
minimal compared with its support of organized labor. This may indeed be
because Catholic activism in these areas was historically not as prominent,
but, if so, it should be made clearer. The text is a bit redundant in certain
areas where the background and/or awards of individuals are presented
more than once in various chapters. Additionally, a few errors are evident—
notably, the U.S. Supreme Court decision Pierce v. Society of Sisters was
adjudicated in 1925, not 1922 (p. 59); and the characterization of James
Gillis, C.S.P., as a liberal thinker (p. 68) is a misstep.

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Issel has made a significant contribution to the history of San Francisco
as well as Church-state issues. Written for scholars, as well as San Francisco
history buffs, this monograph has brought a new dimension to the history of
the city, filling a lacuna and thereby adding significantly to an important element of U.S. and Catholic history.
Stonehill College, MA

RICHARD GRIBBLE, C.S.C.

The Catonsville Nine: A Story of Faith and Resistance in the Vietnam Era.
By Shawn Francis Peters. (New York: Oxford University Press. 2012. Pp.
xxii, 390. $34.95. ISBN 978-0-19-982785-5.)
This is a book about memory and how slippery it can be. On May 17,
1968, one such rupture was the peace action at Catonsville, Maryland, where
nine protesters against the Vietnam War entered a Knights of Columbus Hall,
rifled through the files of the Selective Service office upstairs, and set them
ablaze in the parking lot using homemade napalm. Numerous witnesses—
from the Selective Service staff to the reporters waiting outside—eventually
gave testimony that convicted the group on state and federal charges of
destruction of property. In 1970, two years after the event, the Supreme
Court declined to hear the appeal. With all defense measures exhausted,
some in the group extended their protest by going underground and evading capture for weeks, months, and years. These are the facts, yet some see
little effect in the Nine’s theatrics, whereas others view their actions as
courageous witness.Yet the interplay between the Nine’s motives, rooted as
they were in their Catholic faith, and those of the American government,
form a story whose power has not diminished. With its legend fueled by
books, documentaries, and feature films like The Trial of the Catonsville
Nine (financed in part by Gregory Peck), Shawn Francis Peters’s volume
hopes to set aright the historical record, judiciously withholding the sweeping judgments that have often fed polarization.
Peters grew up in Catonsville, where the story was part of his DNA.
Although he was hardly more than a toddler when the action took place, he
often heard about the Nine’s exploits. For his history, he sorts through the
extant oral histories, trial testimonies, press accounts, and the literature
penned largely by Philip and Daniel Berrigan, two of the more famous participants and on whom Peters’s narrative frequently shines a spotlight.The facts
are laid out well, with few deviations from the standard narrative, and the discrete episodes that form his twenty-five chapters read like vignettes on the
personalities involved. What is new is the deep background Peters explores
related to the formation of each of the protagonists—whether the Nine’s
lawyers, the judge at trial, or the activists themselves.We also get a glimpse of
what life was like on the inside of the prison gates during the Nine’s incarceration.The letters smuggled out of prison by Philip Berrigan served to lead
the FBI agents to successfully capture his brother Dan. Once imprisoned, Dan

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had a severe allergic reaction to medication and later had a painful kidney ailment. George Mische’s transfer to another facility was protested by inmates,
which resulted in subsequent sanctions against his fellow prisoners, including increased jail time.
Mische himself has expressed his displeasure with Peters’s claims,1 particularly those in the book referring to himself, Mary Moylan, and David
Darst (the former Christian Brother). Mische, one of the four surviving
members of the Nine, is especially critical of Peters’s assertions that, at the
end of his life, Darst was suicidal (he died in an automobile crash in October
1969) and that Moylan later regretted her participation in the Catonsville
action. Peters based some of his information on a cache of letters sent by
Darst to a friend, as well as Moylan’s publications. However one reads these
sources, the book is a detailed explanation of the Catonsville event and will
appeal to those interested in the history of the radical Catholic left, to those
studying Catholic peace movements either related to Vietnam or Latin
America, and to historians of race and gender concentrating on the America
of the 1960s.
Redemptorist Archives of the Baltimore Province

PATRICK J. HAYES

Latin American
Beyond the Lettered City: Indigenous Literacies in the Andes. By Joanne
Rappaport and Tom Cummins. [Narrating Native Histories.] (Durham:
Duke University Press. 2012. Pp. xvi, 370. $94.94 clothbound; $25.95
paperback. ISBN 978-0-8223-5128-3.)
The title of this book harks back to Angel Rama’s La Ciudad Letrada
(Hanover, NH, 1984; English trans., Durham, 1996). A noted Uruguayan writer
and literary critic, Rama likened Spain’s New World empire to a baroque city,
albeit one where citizenship was limited to letrados—that is, lettered individuals, nearly all of whom were males of either Spanish or creole extraction.
The lettered city also conjured up a system of power predicated upon the
written word in the guise of laws, notarial documents, and other legal instruments that enabled the empire’s “lettered” minority to exercise dominion
over the majority population of natives, mestizos, mulattos, and blacks.
Beyond the Lettered City revises Rama´s theories to the extent that it
posits an alternate indigenous lettered city inhabited by natives and other
subalterns who, having acquired the rudiments of literacy, managed to gain
access to instruments of power similar to those wielded by the elites. Tom
1
See Mische’s review, “Inattention to Accuracy about ‘Catonsville Nine’ Distorts
History,” National Catholic Reporter, May 17, 2013, http://ncronline.org/news/peacejustice/inattention-accuracy-about-catonsville-nine-distorts-history-era.

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Cummins, an art historian, and Joanne Rappaport, an anthropologist, also
rightly extend literacy to encompass visual literacy and consequently devote
several fascinating chapters to the handiwork of those natives who coupled
the artistic techniques and representational forms of European art with such
native materials as mopa-mopa to produce novel creations in various
genres, including painting, textiles, and crafts.
What the authors refer to as the “spatialization” (p. 233) of the indigenous
lettered city is another major concern. Although the book centers on the
Andes, this “city” does not appear on any map. In chapter 6, however, it is
seemingly coterminous with the “reducciones,” the ordered villages where,
starting in the mid-sixteenth century, Peru’s Spanish viceroys required
natives to live in an effort to hasten their conversion to Christianity and a
more Spanish—read literate— way of life. But wherever its precise location,
the indigenous lettered city occupied what is defined here as a porous “intercultural” or “transcultural” space (e.g., pp. 9, 20). The authors’ discussion of
the meanings attached to these terms is particularly lucid. So, too, is their
analysis of colonial culture, hybridity, alterity, and other, now-popular terms
drawn from the lexicon of postcolonial studies.
Specialists will find these discussions of particular interest, but from the
perspective of a historian the study disappoints on several fronts.Absent, for
example, is any discussion of schooling and the other mechanisms that facilitated the acquisition of literacy among natives. Nor is the question of exactly
which natives—and, equally important, how many—entered into the lettered
city, even though the evidence presented by the authors suggests this group
consisted primarily of caciques—that is, those native chiefs who seemingly
had accommodated themselves to Spanish power and profited from it.
Moreover, the authors tend to ignore the important issue of change over
time. Contextualization also is wanting, especially as it pertains to the northern Andes (part of modern Colombia) where the authors’ archival research
has yielded important new material relating to the Muisca and the Pastos,
two indigenous peoples whose caciques seemingly entered the lettered city
with relative ease. On the other hand, little is said about the history and evolution of these peoples during the colonial era or changes in the region’s
economy and system of governance that might have encouraged caciques to
become literate, let alone about the clergy who presumably helped move the
caciques along the path to “citizenship.” Finally, given the book’s concern
with “spatialization,” the absence of a map featuring the region inhabited by
Muisca and Pastos is a lacuna that editors of the Duke University Press ought
to have addressed.
These shortcomings aside, Beyond the Lettered City represents an important, innovative, and interdisciplinary study that should be mandatory reading for anyone seriously interested in the art, history, and culture of colonial
Spanish America. More broadly, it deserves an audience among scholars of

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591

other colonial and postcolonial societies where the issues of artistic cultural
adaptation and transfer also are topics of major concern.
Johns Hopkins University

RICHARD L. KAGAN

Identity, Ritual, and Power in Colonial Puebla. By Frances L. Ramos.
(Tucson: University of Arizona Press. 2012. Pp. xxxvi, 247. $60.00 clothbound, ISBN 978-0-8165-0849-5; $29.95 paperback, ISBN 978-0-81652117-3.)
Frances Ramos examines civic and religious ritual performances sponsored by the town council of Puebla, colonial Mexico’s “second city,” from
the late-seventeenth to the late-eighteenth centuries. She extends recent historiography on grand ritual in colonial Latin America, which tends to focus
on ceremony’s socially integrative function. Ramos does not deny this role.
She investigates how the participation of various corporate groups from
Puebla’s racially diverse population in the city’s rites honoring the king and
Catholic holy figures served to solidify New Spain’s inclusive but highly stratified social hierarchy.Also like other authors, Ramos studies the political messages embedded in ritual action. She particularly highlights the metaphors of
king as head of the body politic and king as patriarch. She builds upon this
historiography to argue that the city council used public ceremony to exalt
the king and simultaneously to promote its own local authority as head of
Puebla’s political body and as father of the city’s populace. More significantly, Ramos carefully unpacks numerous cases of ritual conflict. Generally
dismissed as aberrations or instances of baroque obsession with honor and
precedence, Ramos looks to the personal, economic, and jurisdictional tensions that underlay disputes occasioned during rituals.This line of investigation leads her to argue that ritual did not simply reflect the political environment, but rather that ritual engagement functioned as a form of politics,
a realm in which competing groups vied for authority and on occasion
reordered power arrangements.
The book can be divided into three sections. In the first (chapters 2–4),
Ramos examines three types of ritual—ceremonies to honor the monarch,
the viceroy, and saints—and their intended meanings. She argues that,
despite the fact that the Bourbon monarchy sought to heighten the importance of royal rites and diminish festivities in honor of viceroys, the city
council of Puebla continued to celebrate the entrance of new viceroys lavishly.The viceroy’s power in New Spain was simply too great for the council
not to curry his favor. In her chapter on religious festivals (chapter 4), Ramos
seeks to complicate William Christian’s concept of local religion. Whereas
Christian posited two levels of religion for early-modern Spain—that of the
universal Church based on the liturgy and that of the locality based on
images and relics—Ramos suggests a three-tiered system for urban centers.
Between universal/imperial and local/neighborhood religious practices, she

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inserts a middle level of citywide devotions. In the case of Puebla, these centered on the city’s patron saints, especially Ss. Michael and Joseph.The book’s
second section (chapters 5 and 6) examines the economic base and local
politics of ceremony in Puebla. Here, Ramos argues that the city council
resisted later Bourbon attempts to reduce ritual extravagance in the name of
economic rationality. It did so in part because ritual was a vital economic
activity that allowed council members to enrich themselves and to dispense
patronage to clients.The book’s last section (chapters 7 and 8), which examines incidents of ritual conflict, is the most rewarding.The conflicts involved
the city council and Puebla’s cathedral chapter. Ramos argues that during the
first half of the eighteenth century, individual and familial interests fueled
most of the disputes between these two bodies. By 1750, however, the council and chapter fought over corporate status.The Bourbon monarchy’s introduction of professionalized militias into the colonies and their entrance into
ritual performances upset traditional arrangements and led to bitter disputes
between jurisdictions. In Puebla’s case, the city council lost cultural capital
at the expense of the cathedral chapter and militia.
Scholars of ritual and colonial Latin America will welcome this fine addition to the historiography. Moreover, Ramos writes clearly and concisely and
she tells many engaging stories, which make the book suitable for undergraduate classes.
College of St. Benedict/St. John’s University

BRIAN R. LARKIN

Far Eastern
Europe in China—China in Europe: Mission as a Vehicle to Intercultural
Dialogue. Edited by Paul Widmer. [Missiongeschichtliches Archiv, Studien
der Berliner Gesellschaft für Missionsgeschichte, Band 18.] (Stuttgart:
Franz Steiner Verlag. 2012. Pp. 147. €32,00 paperback. ISBN 978-3-51510140-0.)
As the editor of this book, Paul Widmer states, the 400th anniversary of
the death of Matteo Ricci (1552-1610) in Beijing provided “both the incentive and occasion” (p. 9) to focus on the manifold aspects of the abundant
cultural encounters between Europe and China from the sixteenth to the
eighteenth century. Since 2010, numerous symposia and publications have
appeared regarding this substantial history of missionary work. As its title
suggests, this publication is a result of such a nature and includes various
research on “Europe in China” and “China in Europe”; the two terms imply a
general concept of intercultural meeting. It includes ten papers presented
for a symposium with the same title as the book, which was held at the
University of Zurich in June 2010. Excluding a preface by the editor, the content comprises two articles on Ricci and, although its theme was for the
commemoration of Ricci, a further eight articles on different subjects regard-

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ing the Jesuits in China and European sinology. The most crucial feature of
this symposium, considering its country of origin, is the relation of the
obscure story of two Swiss Jesuits in China. Moreover, the prominent
research on Lady Candida Xu (1607–80) is well written and concludes that
Xu is particularly pertinent to Ricci’s work in China:“Candida Xu is clearly
described as a female pendant to Matteo Ricci” (p. 69). The two articles on
Ricci, however, do not present particularly fresh outlooks on Ricci. The
appendix by Artur Wardega is noteworthy, reprinting an English translation
of the Jesuit Sabatino de Ursis’s eyewitness account of Ricci’s illness and
final moments. This description is sufficiently detailed to show an intimate
portrait of Ricci, which is rarely revealed to English readerships. Two overlooked Swiss Jesuits who journeyed to China, Franz Stadlin (1657–1740) and
Nikolaus Fiva (1609–40), undeniably merit further research, as presented in
the two preliminary articles. Although Fiva spent only approximately two
years in the Jiangnan area, Wenmin Xu’s research reveals an intriguing story
of the Chinese literatus Wei Xuelian (1608–c. 1644), who was a member of
the Donglin party and whose family was involved in the complex politics
between this party of officials and eunuchs of the imperial court. As Xu
argues, Wei was converted while Fiva was in Nanjing in 1638, according to
the Jesuits’ account, but no other sources are available to confirm Wei’s belief
in God (p. 48). Xu’s uncertainty at the end of the article indicates that this
open question should be examined further. It is unfortunate that these two
articles on the two Swiss Jesuits do not present good documentation, and
even the study by Sanle Yu includes a digression into the history of the
Zhalan cemetery in Beijing that encompasses past and present.
Certain articles in these proceedings have the tone of lecture papers, and
the final article is only a brief introduction to the Voiret China books collection. Claudia von Collani’s article on Candida Xu and Erich Zettl’s article on
Ignaz Sichelbarth (1708–80) are two of the best documented and
researched. Collani’s article is especially promising—it explores a new perspective on the understudied female Chinese Christians, and the comparisons with their European counterparts offer several interesting observations
on the female societal role in Christian communities. Jean-Pierre Voiret’s article regarding “Needham’s puzzles” attempts to answer the long-standing yet
old-fashioned question regarding the sudden halt of Chinese scientific
advances, raised by Joseph Needham in the 1950s, and even, as Voiret noted,
having been addressed in an eighteenth-century Jesuit letter. Although the
analysis is provocative, the argument that attributes Chinese stagnation to
the invasion and long occupation of Mongolian during the Yuan Dynasty
might cause considerable controversy.
National Taiwan University, Taipei

HUI-HUNG CHEN

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Catholic Vietnam: A Church from Empire to Nation. By Charles Keith.
[From Indochina to Vietnam: Revolution and War in a Global Perspective.]
(Berkeley: University of California Press. 2012. Pp. xiv, 312. $49.95. ISBN
978-0-520-227247-7.)
Sometimes the subtitle of a book says more exactly what it is about than
its title, and this is especially true of this volume. Catholic Vietnam does not
deal with the Catholic Church in Vietnam in its current state, nor its entire
history from the sixteenth century to our time. Readers, lured by the rather
comprehensive title and looking for information on these two topics, will be
disappointed, but will be richly rewarded if they want to understand the cultural, political, and ecclesiastical factors that shaped the Vietnamese Catholic
Church from the nineteenth century to the first half of the twentieth century—that is, from the founding of the Nguyen dynasty in 1802 by Emperor
Gia Long (1762–1820) to the emergence of Vietnam as an independent
nation from French colonization (1954).
An expansion of a 2008 doctoral dissertation at Yale University, the book
follows a largely chronological method in detailing the highly complex
developments of the Vietnamese Catholic Church during this critical 150
years.The thread running through its seven chapters is the power struggle
among the Vietnamese political forces (especially imperial, nationalist, and
communist), France’s political regimes (from the Bourbon Restoration to
the Third Republic), the French colonial government in Vietnam, the
Vatican, French missionaries, and Vietnamese Catholics. Keith’s use of
archival materials as well as published documents to trace the twists and
turns of the formation of the Catholic Church as a Vietnamese religious
organization is magisterial. His richly textured narrative provides a needed
correction to both the official communist historiography that paints French
missionaries and Vietnamese Catholics as promoters and collaborators of
French colonialism and the hagiographic accounts of the French missionary
leaders and the Vietnamese Church as innocent and patriotic cheerleaders
for national independence.
Of course, a work of this vast historical scope will have to depend on the
research of other scholars. In particular, for the role of the Vietnamese
Catholic Church in the period between French re-colonizing efforts and
communist resistance (1945–54), Keith has made good use of Tran Thi Lien’s
unpublished dissertation on the theme (chapters 6 and 7).
Chapter 4 is of greatest interest, which is somewhat misleadingly titled
“Vietnamese Catholic Tradition on Trial” (its title in the original dissertation
is more appropriate: “Spreading the Word: Print and Cultural Change in
Colonial Vietnamese Catholicism”). Much research remains to be done in this
still neglected area of Catholic popular literature to understand how the
Vietnamese Catholic Church understood itself in relation to the West and the

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595

universal Church. Furthermore, it would be very interesting to explore how
the identity of the Vietnamese Catholic Church was shaped by its relationship to the other Vietnamese religious traditions during this period and not
exclusively to French colonialism and Vietnamese communism. Another
aspect that could fruitfully be studied is the way in which the Vietnamese
Catholic Church during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries has been
influenced not only by the French missionaries (mainly through the Société
des Missions Étrangères de Paris) but also through a different, Iberian, spirituality and piety. Finally, for readers who are not familiar with the earlier history of Vietnamese Catholicism, some introductory materials (presented in
chapter 1 of the original dissertation) as well as maps (also available in the
dissertation) would be very helpful.
These suggestions for further research to understand contemporary
Vietnamese Catholic Church detract nothing from the exceptionally high
quality of this book. In general, Catholic Vietnam is an excellent historical
account of the development of the Catholic Church in Vietnam during its
most complex period. The work is a rich treasure-trove of information; its
scholarship deep and impeccable; its critique judicious and balanced; its
style highly readable. It will remain a standard work in the historiography of
the Catholic Church of Vietnam.
Georgetown University

PETER C. PHAN

BRIEF NOTICES
Ekelund, Robert B., Jr., and Robert D.Tollison. Economic Origins of Roman
Christianity. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press. 2011. Pp. xiii, 269.
$45.00. ISBN 978-0-226-20002-6.)
Through the employment of economic theory and models, the authors,
two North American economists, seek to show how the Church of the West
in its first millennium functioned similarly to a powerful corporation in
offering a valued “product”—the salvation of souls—to an eager market of
“buyers” and thereby established a monopoly on the “religion market” in the
West. Beside its moral, social, and political goals, the papal corporation, they
contend, had economic motives as well, seeking to maximize profits by
eliminating competitors and extending its markets. This monopoly eventually was challenged in the sixteenth century by the Protestant Reformation
that introduced a successful competition to, and penetration of, the religious market.
Robert B. Ekelund Jr. is emeritus professor of economics at Auburn
University, and Robert D. Tollison is professor of economics at Clemson
University. Three initial chapters introduce the concept of Roman
Christianity as an evolving monopoly, theoretical approaches to the examination of religion, and the economics of religious belief. The following five
chapters treat the first thousand years of the Church of the West, from St.
Paul to Constantine (networking and entrepreneurship), the Constantinian
era (cartelization of Christianity), Constantine to Charlemagne (economic
reciprocity of church and civil governments, vertical organization, and so
forth), the bumpy road to monopoly in the early-medieval period (conflicts,
invasions, and schism), and finally the Church’s achievement of monopoly
status and the mode of its accomplishment. An appendix discusses the
impact of Paul as formative entrepreneur of the Christian movement and
mission, engaging with the work and statistics of sociologist Rodney Stark,
The Rise of Christianity (San Francisco, 1997).
Readers familiar with other historical and theological accounts of the
Church’s first millennium will find that this inquiry into the economic
dynamic of its rise to dominance offers much to ponder and debate. JOHN H.
ELLIOTT, University of San Francisco (Emeritus)

596

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597

León Fernández, Dino. Evangelización y control social a la doctrina de
Canta. Siglos XVI y XVII. (Lima: Universidad Nacional Mayor de San
Marcos. 2010. Pp. 304. Paperback.)
The Peruvian Province of Canta, northeast of Lima and bordering with the
Andes, is less well known than its southern neighbor, Huarochirí, but both
share in common a history of idolatry and its repression during the mid-colonial period. By electing Canta, Dino León Fernández expands our knowledge
of how the Catholic Church, through its bishops and clergy, dealt with the
conversion of the indigenous and, most important, with the deeply rooted
local religions. The resilience of native beliefs in the Andean regions challenged Catholicism for centuries. The author deals methodically with wellknown historical issues, supporting his work with manuscript materials
culled from the archives of the Archbishopric of Lima and the Archives of the
Indies in Spain.
Although Peru’s history includes an archbishop later elevated to sainthood (Toribio Alfonso de Mogrovejo, 1538–1606, canonized in 1726), the history of conversion in that country is characterized by its ineffectiveness
among the native population. Lack of sufficient missionaries and the condescending attitude toward the indigenous by those in charge of their indoctrination did not help. The teaching of the Christian doctrine was maintained
at a very low level. Sermons conditioned the Indians to obey, reinforcing a
superficial ideology of domination. The author uses pastoral visits to the
Indian parishes (doctrinas) to analyze their socioeconomic realities as well
as the immediate impact of such visits on the population. He concludes that
they were essential to reassert the political and social weight of the Church
over the indigenous communities. As suggested by the title, this work eventually turns the reader toward Canta and its government, income, and
expenses as a preamble to introduce the discussion of the parallel reality of
“idolatries” or worship of precolumbian deities. This remained the most
painful chapter of the evangelization project. The Church and its bishops
perhaps expected too much too soon and often were disappointed. The
evangelizers’ attribution of the persistence of idolatry to the work of the
devil reflected the spirit of the times but reduced their role as ministers of
the Church to that of frustrated witnesses of a reality they could not control.
The most important contribution of this work is the detailed study of a
relatively little-known ecclesiastical subdivision of the Peruvian Church that
helps to corroborate the findings of previous studies of other regions. A documentary appendix is an always welcome addition, given the difficulty of
accessing religious archives in Latin America. ASUNCIÓN LAVRIN (Arizona State
University, Emerita)

NOTES AND COMMENTS
________
Archive
The Centre for Heritage Imaging and Collection Care (CHICC) at the
University of Manchester’s John Rylands Library, in conjunction with the
National Institute for Newman Studies and the Birmingham Oratory, has
undertaken the digitization of the numerous hand-written manuscripts in the
Cardinal John Henry Newman Archive. Using the latest technology, CHICC is
planning to digitize the entire archive and place it online. For more information, visit http://newmanarchive.wordpress.com.
Exhibition
A special exhibition commemorating the tricentennial of Blessed Fray
Junipero Serra will be featured at San Fernando, Rey de España Mission, in
Mission Hills, California, through the rest of 2013. Among the several dozen
items on display are a chalice and altar stone used by the “Grey Ox,” a U.S.
Postal Service stamp from 1984 bearing his likeness, a copy of Francisco
Palóu’s Relación Histórica (1787), and an assortment of items portraying or
associated with the founder of the first nine missions along the El Camino
Real in California.
New Journal and Series
Brill has announced two publication-related projects devoted to the
study of the Jesuits—the series Jesuit Studies: Modernity through the Prism
of Jesuit History and the Journal of Jesuit Studies, both edited by Robert A.
Maryks (Boston College). The first volume in the series will be Saints or
Devils Incarnate? Studies in Jesuit History by John W. O’Malley
(Georgetown University); the first issue of the journal is scheduled for publication in 2014.
Conferences and Lectures
On September 27–28, 2013, the 80e Congrès de la Société canadienne
d’histoire de l’Église catholique (SCHEC) will meet at the Centre Missionnaire
Mariannhill in Sherbrooke, Québec.The theme of the sessions will be cultural
transfers in the Catholic world: the circulation of ideas, intercultural contacts,
and the transformation of institutional practices. For more information, contact Maurice Demers at SCHEC2013@usherbrooke.ca.
598

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599

On November 14–16, 2013, the international conference “San Josemaría
Escrivá e il pensiero teologico” will be held at the Pontificia Università della
Santa Croce in Rome.Among the papers of an historical nature are “A 50 anni
del Concilio Vaticano II: il contributo di san Josemaría” by Cardinal Javier
Echevarría and “L’uso degli insegnamenti dei santi nell’argomentazione teologica di san Tommaso d’Aquino” by Robert Wielockz.There also will be a session on the Diccionario de San Josemaría (ed. Monte Carmelo [Burgos,
2013]) that will describe the genesis and realization of the dictionary (by
Mercedes Alonso) and will situate the dictionary in the context of a theological bibliography on the saint (by José Luis Illanes). For more information on
the conference, visit http://www.pusc.it/teo/escriva2013.
On December 3, 2013, Giovanni Grado Merlo will speak on “Per lo studio
degli eretici medievali” at the Istituto per le scienze religiose in Bologna. For
more information, contact segreteria@fscire.it.
On December 4–6, 2013, the Catholic University of Leuven will sponsor
the conference “The Council of Trent: Reform and Controversy in Europe and
Beyond (1545–1700).” For more information, visit https://theo.kuleuven.be/
en/research/research_units/ru_church/council_of_Trent or email trent@
theo.kuleuven.be.
On March 6–8, 2014, the Texas Catholic Historical Society (TCHS) will hold
its annual meeting at the Crown Plaza River Walk Hotel in San Antonio in conjunction with the meeting of the Texas State Historical Association.The theme
of the TCHS meeting is described tentatively as “Along the Rio Grande: 20th
Century Traditions of Three Religious Orders.”
On March 6–9, 2014, the nineteenth biennial New College Conference on
Medieval and Renaissance Studies will take place on the campus of New
College of Florida, the honors college of the Florida state system in Sarasota,
Florida. The program committee invites 250-word abstracts of proposed
twenty-minute papers on topics in European and Mediterranean history, literature, art, music, and religion from the fourth to the seventeenth centuries.
Interdisciplinary work is particularly appropriate to the conference’s broad
historical and disciplinary scope. Planned sessions are welcome; see the new
guidelines at http://www.newcollegeconference.org/cfp. In memory of the
conference’s founder Lee Daniel Snyder (1933–2012), the Snyder Prize has
been established, which will be awarded for the first time in 2014.The prize
carries an honorarium of $400 and will be given for the best paper presented
at the conference by a junior scholar. Further details are available at the conference Web site. More information will be posted on the conference Web site
(http:// www.newcollegeconference.org) as it becomes available, including
submission guidelines, prize details, plenary speakers, conference events, and
area attractions. The deadline for abstracts is September 15, 2013. Send
inquiries to info@newcollegeconference.org and abstracts to abstracts@
newcollege conference.org.

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To mark the fourth centenary of the beatification and the start of the
500th anniversary of the birth of St.Teresa of Jesus of Ávila, the international
congress “Fe y experiencia de Dios / Faith and the Experience of God” will be
sponsored by the Universidad de la Mística/University of Mysticism in Ávila,
Spain, on April 21–24, 2014.The conference focuses on the experience of God
from the interdisciplinary perspectives of theology, literature, anthropology,
epistemology, phenomenology, psychology, and psychiatry, but also will
devote attention to the experiential witness of the mystics of all times and
religions and the ways that their experiences were transmitted through their
lives and writings, art, and cinema. These topics will be covered through
thirty-minute papers and other presentations of fifteen minutes each. For
more information on the congress, visit http://www.mistica2014.com or
http://www.mistica.es, or email mistica2014@gmail.com.
On May 8–11, 2014, the Iuris canonici medii aevi consociatio (ICMAC)
will sponsor three sessions pertaining to medieval canon law at the annual
medieval Congress in Kalamazoo, Michigan.The sessions and their organizers
are: (1) “Crime or Sin? Re-thinking Ideas of Wrongdoing in Medieval Europe”
with organizer Kathleen G. Cushing (email k.g.cushing@keele.ac.uk); (2) “Rethinking Reform: The Council as Context, Catalyst, and Communicator of
Reform” with organizer William North (email wnorth@carleton.edu); and (3)
“Crusade and Inquisition: In Honor of James Brundage” with organizer
Damian Smith (email dsmith@slu.edu). Proposals for papers should be sent to
the organizers by September 1, 2013. Also organizing a session at this congress is the Stephan Kuttner Institute for Medieval Canon Law. It welcomes
papers on how canon law dealt with “everyday” issues in medieval society.
Proposals for these papers should be sent by September 1, 2013, to Mary E.
Sommar at msommar@gmail.com.
On October 23–25, 2014, a consortium of institutions in the Benelux countries will sponsor in Leuven an international colloquium on the “200th
Anniversary of the Restoration of the Society of Jesus in the Low Countries.”
Those wishing to present papers at the conference on such topics as the suppression (1773), dispersion/diaspora (1773–1814/1832), and restoration of
the Society of Jesus (1814/1832–1850) in the Low Countries should send a
one-page summary with outline of the proposed lecture by September 15,
2013, to jan.demaeyer@kadoc.kuleuven.be.
Publications
The second number of Gregorianum for 2013 (vol. 94) is devoted to the
memory of the great patristic scholar Antonio Orbe, S.J., on the tenth anniversary of his death. A dozen articles deal with aspects of his work concerning
Christian thought in the second and third centuries.
Baptism is studied in the articles published in number 1–2 for 2012 (vol.
42) of Studia Liturgica. The historical investigations are Bryan D. Spinks,

NOTES AND COMMENTS

601

“What Is ‘New’ in the ‘History’ of Christian Baptismal Liturgy: The Early
Centuries” (pp. 16–32); Lizette Larason-Miller,“Baptism in the Early Medieval
West: Our Changing Perspective of the ‘Dark Ages’” (pp. 33–53); Robin M.
Jensen, “Ancient Baptismal Spaces: Form and Function” (pp. 108–29);
Dominic E. Serra,“Postbaptismal Rites in Early Roman Practice” (pp. 176–89);
and Pavel Kolár, “Baptism and Secularization in the Context of the
Communist Totalitarian Regime within the Czechoslovak Republic” (pp.
231–42).
Liturgical reform is the theme of the articles published in Questions
Liturgiques—Studies in Liturgy in number 3–4 (vol. 93, 2012), as follows:
Gilles Routhier, “Penser la réforme dans l’Église à partir des réformes de la
liturgie” (pp. 153–56); Pablo Argárate,“Les réformes liturgiques carolingienne
et grégorienne” (pp. 157–70); Joris Geldhof,“Did the Council of Trent Produce
a Liturgical Reform? The Case of the Roman Missal” (pp. 171–95); Patrick
Prétot,“La réforme de la semaine sainte sous Pie XII (1951–1956): Enjeux d’un
premier pas vers la réforme liturgique de Vatican II” (pp. 196–217); Thomas
Pott,“Réforme liturgique dans les églises orthodoxes byzantines et grecquescatholiques avant le Concile Vatican II” (pp. 218–35); Nienke van Andel and
Leo J. Koffeman, “Singing Together the Song of Diversity: Liturgical and
Ecclesiological Reform in Dutch Protestantism” (pp. 236–49); and Gilles
Routhier,“Conclusions” (pp. 251–58).
D. José Antonio González García (born in 1942, ordained in 1967, and
since 1999 professor of New Testament in the Instituto Superior
Compostelano de Ciencias Religiosas) is honored in number 3–4 (vol. LVII,
2012) of Compostellanum: Estudios Jacobeos. Following a “BioBibliografía”
by Segundo L. Pérez López (pp. 11–19) are nine historical (not scriptural)
articles: José Fernández Lago,“La historia de la salvación en el Pórtico de la
Gloria de la Catedral de Santiago de Compostela” (pp. 21–30); Francisco
Javier Buide del Real,“La evangelización de la Gallaecia sueva: Entre paganismo y cristianismo (ss. IV–VI)” (pp. 31–118); Antonio Hernández Matías,
“Peregrinación a Santiago: Itinerario espiritual de un peregrino con crisis de
fe en la mochila: De Roncesvalles a la tumba del Apóstol” (pp. 119–42); José
García Oro,“Francisco de Asís en Compostela:Aspectos de una tradición franciscana” (pp. 143–54); Manuel Carriedo Tejedo, “Documentos relativos al
‘armiger regis’ durante los reinados de Alfonso V e Vermudo III (999–1037)”
(pp. 155–203);Anastasio S. Iglesias Blanco,“El patrimonio urbano de la hidalguía gallega en la época moderna. Casas y solares de los condes de Amarante
en la ciudad de Santiago de Compostela” (pp. 205–35); Elena Saura Ramos,
“Monacato y planificación arquitectónica: el caso de San Juan de Caaveiro”
(pp. 237–66); Lorenzo Martínez Ángel, “Una nota sobre las pinturas de la
batalla de Clavijo en la capilla de Santiago de la basílica de San Antonio en
Padua (s. XIV)” (pp. 267–73); and Segundo L. Pérez López,“Un nuevo hito en
la historia de Galicia: el episcopologio compostelano moderno” (pp.
275–93).

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A dozen articles on “Correspondances pastorales (XVIe–XXe siècles) compose the issue of Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du Protestantisme
Français for January–March 2013 (vol. 159).
“Religious Music” is the focus of the three articles published in the fall
2012 issue of U.S. Catholic Historian (vol. 30, no. 4): John Haines,“The Earliest
European Responses to Dancing in the Americas” (pp. 1–20); Robert R.
Grimes, S.J., “A Grand Selection of Sacred Music: Benjamin Carr and Early
Nineteenth-Century Catholic Music in Philadelphia” (pp. 21–37); and Amy K.
Lewkowicz,“When Tin Pan Alley Sang ‘The Rosary’” (pp. 39–62).
The papers presented at the symposium “Concilio Vaticano II—Il valore
permanente di una riforma per la nuova evangelizzazione,” which was held at
the Pontifical University of the Holy Cross in Rome on May 3–4, 2012, have
been published in Heft 1 of volume 43 (2011 [sic]) of the Annuarium
Historiae Conciliorum.The first one is “Das II.Vatikanische Konzil im Gesamt
der Ökumenischen Konzilien” by Johannes Grohe (pp. 1–18).The rest (three
in Italian, three in Spanish, and one more in German) are more theological
than historical.
Another international seminar held on the fiftieth anniversary of the opening of the Second Vatican Council took place in Modena on February 23–25,
2012.The fourteen papers read there in Italian, English, and German can now
be found in the first number for 2013 (vol. 34) of Cristianesimo nella Storia.
The introduction to this special issue is contributed by Silvia Scatena under
the title “1962–2012: la storia dopo la Storia? Contributi e prospettive degli
studi sul Vaticano II dieci anni dopo la Storia del concilio” (pp. 1–14).
A video of the international workshop “The Papacy and the Local
Churches XVIth to XXth Centuries” (sponsored by the Hungarian Academy of
Sciences/Pázmány Péter Catholic University and the University of Viterbo/
Italian Institute of Culture of Budapest) is available at https://www.youtube
.com/channel/UCPscGUuIG1rnp131n1_P3qg?feature=watch
Personals
Timothy Matovina (University of Notre Dame) was awarded the Foik Award
of the Texas Catholic Historical Society for his book Latino Catholicism:
Transformation in America’s Largest Church (Princeton, 2011).
Stafford Poole, C.M., received an honorary doctorate of humane letters
from DePaul University on June 16, 2013, in recognition of his contributions
to Latin American and Vincentian history.

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Obituary
Joseph Lackner, S.M. (1942–2013)
Joseph Lackner, S.M., was a Marianist, a teacher, a very good preacher, and
a truly wonderful friend. He died in Seoul, South Korea, at the age of seventyone of complications from a heart attack. He had stopped in Korea after
teaching for several months at Bangalore in India.
Father Lackner was born in Cincinnati; he entered the Society of Mary in
that city in 1960 and was ordained a priest in 1972. He held two bachelor’s
degrees from the University of Dayton in English and education as well as a
master’s degree in counselor education. He also earned an AM in biblical languages and literature and a PhD in historical theology from Saint Louis
University, as well as an EdD in private school education from the University
of San Francisco. He taught at the University of Dayton, Saint Louis University,
Thomas More College, Xavier University, St. Mary’s University, Parks College,
the Athenaeum of Ohio, and Chaminade University of Honolulu.
Father Lackner was a historian, a campus administrator, and an academic
director. He did much to highlight the work of Daniel Rudd, the African
American journalist, annalist, and activist in the last decade of the nineteenth
century. Lackner’s work was basic in his understanding of the black Catholic
press (especially the American Catholic Tribune) and the black press in general (as well as the black Catholic Congresses), and Rudd’s influence and
work that Lackner explained in articles and lectures. He served as assistant
provincial and director of education in the Cincinnati Province of the Society
of Mary 1997–2002 and assistant provincial for developing regions for the
Marianist Province of the United States from 1998 to 2006. One confrere said,
“he was probably the most widely read Marianist I knew,” and another stated,
“He loved the classics and he was continually reading theology.”
Father Lackner is survived by a sister, Helen Hampton, of Hamilton, Ohio.
Donations may be made in his memory to the Marianist Mission, 4435 E.
Patterson Rd., Dayton, OH 45481, https://www.marianist.com/support.
Joseph Lackner knew how to cast his net wide far and wide. He made us
all deep and rich.
St. Meinrad, IN

CYPRIAN DAVIS, O.S.B.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE
________
General and Miscellaneous
The Burdens of Church History. Laurie F. Maffly-Kipp. Church History, 82
( June, 2013), 353–67.
Die Bedeutung der Ordination im ersten Jahrtausend des Christentums. Gary
Macy. Theologische Quartalschrift, 192 (4, 2012), 329–41.
In Dialogue with Fred McManus: Catholic Liturgy and the Christian East at
Vatican II—Nostalgia for Orthodoxy. Robert Taft, S.J. The Jurist, 72 (2,
2012), 466–91.
Les Juifs et la préparation du texte conciliare Nostra Aetate. T.-M. Andrevon.
Nouvelle Revue Théologique, 135 (Apr.–June, 2013), 218–38.
La concélébration projetée entre Paul VI et Athénagoras Ier. Enseignements
théologiques et nature des obstacles. Patrick Mahieu. Istina, LVIII
( Jan.–Mar., 2013), 41–67.
El cristianismo y el mundo contemporáneo: cosmovisión y ethos. Cristóbal
Robles Muñoz. Hispania Sacra, 64 (No. 130, 2012), 763–84.
Benedict of Nursia in the Writings of Hans Urs von Balthasar. Daniel J. Heisey.
Studia Monastica, 54 (2, 2012), 389–400.
St Cuthbert: Durham’s Tutelarie Deitie. Diana Newton. Recusant History, 31
(May, 2013), 439–59.
Kirche als Bleibe. Alte Prophetien und neue Perspektiven zu 800 Jahren
Schwesterngemeinschaft von San Damiano. Martina Kriedler-Kos.
Wissenschaft und Weisheit, 75 (2, 2012), 195–218.
Legislación y justicia contra blasfemos. (Cataluña, siglos XV–XVII). Martí
Gelabertó Vilagrán. Hispania Sacra, 64 (No. 130, 2012), 525–64.
Santiaguistas y teresianos, sedentarios y nómadas, con Propaganda Fide y
China al fondo. José Andrés-Gallego. Hispania Sacra, 64 (No. 130, 2012),
739–61.
Lo deseable y lo posible. La visión y la representación de China en la obra de
José de Acosta. Ana Carolina Hosne. Archivum Historicum Societatis
Iesu, LXXXI (2, 2012), 481–514.
Gradas del monasterio de Santa María la Real de Nájera (1500–1833). Ernesto
Zaragoza Pascual. Studia Monastica, 54 (2, 2012), 353–88.
604

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

605

Ancient
Les “écoles” chrétiennes de Rome, Athènes, Alexandrie et Antioche à l’époque
des Antonins: Remarques sur la circulation des maîtres et de leurs disciples
(suite). Bernard Pouderon. Bulletin de Littérature Ecclésiastique, CXIV
( Jan.–Mar., 2013), 5–18.
On the Diversity and Influence of the Eusebian Alliance: The Case of
Theodore of Heraclea. Matthew R. Crawford. Journal of Ecclesiastical
History, 64 (Apr., 2013), 227–57.
Ancora sul concilio di Alessandria del 362, e dintorni. Manlio Simonetti.
Augustinianum, L ( June, 2010), 5–25.
La Roma clásica y cristiana en Aurelio Prudencio y en san Agustín. Guillermo
Pons Pons. La Ciudad de Dios, CCXXVI ( Jan.–Apr., 2013), 67–98.
Girolamo e l’epistolario tra Seneca e san Paolo. Antonio Grappone.
Augustinianum, L ( June, 2010), 119–45.
“Ecce panis haereticorum”. Diversità alimentari ed identità religiose nel ‘De
haeresibus’ di Agostino. Francesca Tasca. Augustinianum, L ( June, 2010),
233–52.
El canon 3 del concilio de Orange (441), el Ad Ecclesiam de Salviano de
Marsella y los debates en torno a la penitencia in extremis en la Galia de
mediados del siglo V. Raúl Villegas Marín. Revue d’Études Augustiniennes
et Patristiques, 58 (2, 2012), 287–319.
L’imprégnation virgilienne dans l’imaginaire marin de deux passions
africaines: la Passio sanctae Salsae et la Passio Sancti Fabii. Sabine Fialon.
Latomus, 72 (Mar., 2013), 208–20.
Caesarius of Arles and the Development of the Ecclesiastical Tithe: From a
Theology of Almsgiving to Practical Obligations. Eric Schuler. Traditio, 67
(2012), 43–69.
Mito pagano e interpretatio christiana a Gaza nel VI secolo. L’immagine della
rosa fiorita sull’ulivo selvatico in Giorgio Grammatico. Gianluca Ventrella.
Athenaeum, 100 (1–2, 2012), 385–404.
Medieval
Signs of Salvation: The Evolution of Stigmatic Spirituality before Francis of
Assisi. Carolyn Muessig. Church History, 82 (Mar., 2013), 40–68.
De Heilige Bonifatius en de nieuwe start van de Frankische Kerk. Pierre
Trouillez. Collationes, 43 (1, 2013), 53–80.
Remarques sur le manuscrit bénéventin de Beatus récemment découvert à
Genève. Peter K. Klein. Cahiers de civilisation médiévale, 56 ( Jan.–Mar.,
2013), 3–38.

606

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Standing Distant from the Fathers: Smaragdus on Saint-Mihiel and the
Reception of Early Medieval Learning. Matthew Ponesse. Traditio, 67
(2012), 71–99.
JE 2856?—ein Papstbrief? Zur Exkommunikation Bischof Antonius’ I. von
Brescia. Rudolf Pokorny. Deutsches Archiv für Erforschung des
Mittelalters, 68 (2, 2012), 479–503.
The Poeta Saxo at Paderborn: episcopal authority and Carolingian rule in late
ninth-century Saxony. Ingrid Rembold. Early Medieval Europe, 21 (May,
2013), 169–96.
Laughing at a Saint? Miracle and irony in the Vita Gangulfi prima. Steffen
Patzold. Early Medieval Europe, 21 (May, 2013), 197–220.
Sant Pere Orsèol, dux de Venècia i monjo de Sant Miquel de Cuixà, segons les
diferent fonts escrites, amb l’edició de l’Anònim de Cuixà. Daniel Codina.
Studia Monastica, 54 (2, 2012), 293–342.
Penitential Discourse in the Diplomas of King Æthelred ‘the Unready’. Levi
Roach. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 64 (Apr., 2013), 258–76.
Après les Miracles de sainte Foy: présence des saints, images et reliques dans
divers textes des espaces français et germanique du milieu di XIe au XIIIe
siècle. Jean-Marie Sansterre. Cahiers de civilisation médiévale, 56
( Jan.–Mar., 2013), 39–76.
From Pilgrimage to Crusade:The Liturgy of Departure, 1095–1300. M. Cecilia
Gaposchkin. Speculum, 88 ( Jan., 2013), 44–91.
Suo loco: The Traditio evangeliorum and the Four Evangelist Symbols in the
Presbytery Pavement of Novara Cathedral. Lucy Donkin. Speculum, 88
( Jan., 2013), 92–143.
La territorialisation de la seigneurie monastique: les commanderies
provençales du Temple (XIIe–XIIIe siècle). Damien Carraz. Mélanges de
l’Ecole française de Rome. Moyen Âge, 123 (2, 2011), 443–460.
Rites of Enclosure: The English Ordines for the Enclosing of Anchorites, s.
XII–s. XVI. E.A. Jones. Traditio, 67 (2012), 145–234.
Imágenes sagradas. Imágenes sacralizadas.Antropología y devoción en la Baja
Edad Media. Olga Pérez Monzón. Hispania Sacra, 64 (No. 130, 2012),
449–95.
Tomaso Becket nella basilica di Aquileia: celebrazione o propaganda?
Marialuisa Bottazzi. Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome. Moyen Âge,
123 (2, 2011), 561–76.
The Heroic Age of Gothic and the Metaphors of Modernism. Paul Binski.
Gesta, 52 (Spring, 2013), 3–19.
Meaningful Spectacles: Gothic Ivories Staging the Divine. Sarah M. Guérin. Art
Bulletin, 95 (Mar., 2013), 53–77.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

607

Sensory Experience in Medieval Devotion: Sound and Vision, Invisibility and
Science. Beth Williamson. Speculum, 88 ( Jan., 2013), 1–43.
Francesco e il vescovo Guido I. Felice Accrocca. Miscellanea Francescana,
112 (3–4, 2012), 465–84.
Francesco incontra il sultano: l’inizio di una missione di pace. Studio comparativo delle più antiche fonti. Leonhard Lehmann, OFMCap. Miscellanea
Francescana, 112 (3–4, 2012), 504–56.
“Mostrerò loro qual è la mia volontà”. Francesco d’Assisi tra governo
dell’Ordine e difesa dell’ideale minoritico. Emil Kumka, OFM Conv.
Miscellanea Francescana, 112 (3–4, 2012), 557–80.
La morte di un uomo cristiano. Gli ultimi anni di vita di Francesco di Assisi.
Pietro Maranesi, OFM Cap. Miscellanea Francescana, 112 (3–4, 2012),
581–99.
Papst- und Kardinalsurkunden des 13. Jahrhunderts aus dem Archiv der
Klarissen von Judenburg (Steiermark/Österreich). Ein wiederentdecktes
Privileg Gregors IX. von 1229 für Klara von Assisi und die Schwesterngemeinschaft von San Damiano. Werner Maleczek and Paul Zahner, OFM.
Wissenschaft und Weisheit, 75 (2, 2012), 219–36.
La casuistique médiévale à l’œuvre: étude comparée des formulaires de la
Pénitencerie Apostolique (XIIIe–XIVe siècles).Arnaud Fossier. Mélanges de
l’Ecole française de Rome. Moyen Âge, 123 (1, 2011), 151–89.
Kreuzpredigt gegen Konrad IV. in Augsburg: Spätstaufisches aus Clm 23502.
Heinz-Jürgen Beyer and Karl Borchardt. Deutsches Archiv für Erforschung
des Mittelalters, 68 (2, 2012), 519–43.
Robert Grosseteste’s Quoniam Cogitatio, a Treatise on Confession. F. A. C.
Mantello and Joseph Goering. Traditio, 67 (2012), 341–84.
Magna Carta 1253: The ambitions of the Church and the divisions within the
realm. David A. Carpenter. Historical Research, 86 (May, 2013), 179–90.
Aleardino’s Glass. Francesco Lucchini. Art History, 36 ( June, 2013), 498–517.
Les chanoines de la cathédrale du Mans et le cumul des bénéfices au XIVe
siècle (1294–1378). Julien Leloup. Annales de Bretagne et des Pays de
l’Ouest, 120 (Mar., 2013), 33–58.
Priestly Wives:The Role and Acceptance of Clerics’ Concubines in the Parishes
of Late Medieval Catalunya. Michelle Armstrong-Partida. Speculum, 88
( Jan., 2013), 166–214.
L’universalisme romain à travers les registres de lettres de la papauté avignonnaise.Thomas Tanase. Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome. Moyen
Âge, 123 (2, 2011), 577–95.
La beata Giustina e la vita religiosa ad Arezzo al tempo del vescovo Guido
Tarlatti. Pierluigi Licciardello. Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome.
Moyen Âge, 123 (1, 2011), 257–90.

608

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Tholomeus von Lucca. De iurisdictione ecclesie super regnum Apulie et
Sicilie. Ottavio Clavuot. Deutsches Archiv für Erforschung des Mittelalters, 68 (2, 2012), 545–91.
Winchester Diocese under John Stratford, 1323–1333. Roy Martin Haines.
Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 64 (Apr., 2013), 277–95.
Guido Terreni on The Errors of Marsilius. Thomas Turley. Carmelus, 58 (1,
2011), 11–31.
Devoción mariana y poder regio: las visitas reales al monasterio de Guadalupe
durante los siglos XIV y XV (ca. 1330–1472). Francisco De Paula Cañas
Gálvez. Hispania Sacra, 64 (No. 130, 2012), 427–47.
L’annulation d’une sentence de condamnation pour hérésie contre les
seigneurs d’Osimo sous Benoît XII (1335): de nouveau sur l’affaire Lorenzo
d’Ancona. Sylvain Parent. Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome. Moyen
Âge, 123 (1, 2011), 191–241.
Visual Aggression: The Martyr’s Cycle at Schwäbsich Gmünd. Assaf Pinkus.
Gesta, 52 (Spring, 2013), 43–59.
The Mosaics of the Eastern Arch of Hagia Sophia in Constantinople: Program
and Liturgy. Natalia Teteriatnikov. Gesta, 52 (Spring, 2013), 61–84.
Fromme Frauen oder ungebärdige und verdorbene höhere Töchter? Eine
Verbotsliste des Provinzials Ulirch vom Hagen aus dem Jahre 1365 für die
Breslauer Klarissen (mit Abdruck und Übersetzung des Textes). Volker
Honemann. Wissenschaft und Weisheit, 75 (2, 2012), 237–58.
Image verbale et prédication écrite. Transmission de la foi et ensiegnement
des pratiques religieueses dans les sermons eucharistiques d’Engelberg.
Fabrice Flückiger and René Wetzel. Le Moyen Age, CXVIII (3–4, 2012),
545–79.
Art and Sermons: Dominicans and the Jews in Florence’s Santa Maria Novella.
Nirit Ben-Aryeh Debby. Church History and Religious Culture, 92 (2–3,
2012), 171–200.
Documenter le Grand Schisme d’Occident: étude sur les recueils de deux
intellectuels normands, Simon du Bosc et Simon de Plumetot. Annick
Brabant. Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome. Moyen Âge, 123 (2,
2011), 597–610.
San Nuño Alvarez Pereira Frey Nuno de Santa Maria, Carmelita. Balbino
Velasco Bayón, O.Carm. Carmelus, 58 (1, 2011), 55–105.
Clarerin oder Magdalenerin? Ein Konflikt um Ordensidentitäten im Nürnberger Klarissenkonvent. Lena Vosding. Wissenschaft und Weisheit, 75 (2,
2012), 259–321.
Testamento de Doña Leonor, Infanta de Castilla (1412). Francisco Javier Rojo
Alique. Archivo Ibero-Americano, LXXII ( Jan.–Dec., 2012), 191–214.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

609

The Divine Dinner Party: Domestic Imagery and Easter Preaching in Late
Medieval England. Holly Johnson. Traditio, 67 (2012), 385–415.
La religion flamboyante de Nicolas de Cues: de la mystique rhénane à l’évangélisme français. Jean-Claude Lagarrigue. Bulletin de Littérature
Ecclésiastique, CXVI ( Jan.–Mar., 2013), 19–38.
Los beneficios parroquiales: un acercamiento al estudio del clero secular.
Silvia Maria Pérez González. Hispania Sacra, 64 (No. 130, 2012), 497–523.
Cisneros ante la Iglesia de Toledo: Ciudad, Iglesia, Señorio. José García Oro and
María José Portela Silva (†). Archivo Ibero-Americano, LXXVII ( Jan.–Dec.,
2012), 215–414.
Sixteenth Century
El Obispo Salamantino Juan de Castilla (1498–1510) y su Mecenazgo
Palentino. Hipólito Barriguín Fernández. Archivo Ibero-Americano,
LXXVII ( Jan.–Dec., 2012), 415–48.
Tanglost of Wales: Magic and Adultery in the Court of Chancery circa 1500.
Kathleen Kamerick. Sixteenth Century Journal, XLIV (Spring, 2013),
25–45.
Erasmus and the Non-Christian World. Jan van Herwaarden. Erasmus of
Rotterdam Society Yearbook, 32 (2012), 69–83.
Forgetting Lutheranism: Historians and the Early Reformation in Poland
(1517–1548). Natalia Nowakowska. Church History and Religious
Culture, 92 (2–3, 2012), 281–303.
Why Do Lutherans Sing? Lutherans, Music and the Gospel in the First Century
of the Reformation. A. Andreas Loewe. Church History, 82 (Mar., 2013),
69–89.
Les modèles de prédication protestante au XVIe siècle en Suisse: la cas de Bâle
à l’époque de Joannes Œcolampade et juste après sa mort (1520–1546).
Max Engammare. Theologische Zeitschrift, 69 (1–2, 2013), 1–23.
Luther und die Bestrafung der Täufer. Jörg Trelenberg. Zeitschrift für
Theologie und Kirche, 110 (1, 2013), 22–49.
Thomas More’s Quarrel with Reform. Gordon William Rockett. Church
History and Religious Culture, 92 (2–3, 2012), 201–36.
La narrazione delle origini dei Cappuccini fra storia e motivi apologetici.
Giuseppe Bartolozzi. Rivista di Storia e Letteratura Religiosa, XLVIII (2,
2012), 405–21.
Reginald Pole tra Erasmo e Valdés: dal De Unitate Ecclesiae alle meditazioni
sui Salmi (1536–1541). Davide Romano. Rivista Storica Italiana, CXXIV
(Dec., 2012), 831–75.

610

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Le ban et l’arrière-ban de Bretagne: un service féodal à l’épreuve des troubles
de religion (vers 1550–vers 1590).Antoine Rivault. Annales de Bretagne et
des Pays de l’Ouest, 120 (Mar., 2013), 59–95.
Calvin’s Geneva Confronts Magic and Witchcraft: The Evidence from the
Consistory. Jeffrey R.Watt. Journal of Early Modern History, 17 (3, 2013),
215–44.
Le Narré dans la vie du Père Émond Auger: traité ou document humain
(1530–1591). François Kurris, S.J. Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu,
LXXXI (2, 2012), 533–49.
The Crusading State:The Expedition for the Cruzada Indulgence from Trent to
Lepanto. Patrick J. O’Banion. Sixteenth Century Journal, XLIV (Spring,
2013), 97–116.
Le savoir contemplatif: les religieuses et les limites de la conaissance
(Espagne, XVIe siècle).Antoine Roullet. Revue Historique, 136 ( Jan., 2013),
119–42.
Jesuit Tuscan Libraries of the 1560s and 1570s: Bibliotheca non-yet Selecta.
Kathleen Comerford. Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu, LXXXI (2,
2012), 515–31.
Catherine de Medici signs the Edict of Amboise. Richard Cavendish. History
Today, 63 (Mar., 2013), 11.
The Queen’s Visit to Oxford in 1566: A Fresh Look at Neglected Manuscript
Sources. Gerard Kilroy. Recusant History, 31 (May, 2013), 331–73.
Kommunikation und Administration in der Alten Gesellschaft Jesu. Paul
Oberholzer, S.J. Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu, LXXXI (2, 2012),
581–97.
Reasons and identities to remember: composing personal accounts of religious violence in sixteenth-century France. Susan Broomhall. French
History, 27 (Mar., 2013), 1–20.
Klarissenklöster in Spannungsfeld habsburgischer Konfessionspolitik.
Irmgard E. Zwingler. Wissenschaft und Weisheit, 75 (2, 2012), 322–60.
Resistance, Negotiation, and Adjustment: Cathedral Clergy and the Tridentine
Reform in Portugal. Hugo Ribeiro da Silva. Church History and Religious
Culture, 92 (2–3, 2012), 261–79.
El Crucificado de San Juan de la Cruz. Ismael Martínez Carretero, O.Carm.
Carmelus, 58 (1, 2011), 123–42.
Correspondencia de Pedro Chacón. Segunda Parte. Carta no. 3. Pedro Chacó a
León de Castro. Juan Francisco Domínguez. La Ciudad de Dios, CCXXVI,
( Jan.–Apr., 2013), 203–44.
Formas de religiosidad de la nobleza Navarra en la Edad Moderna. Pablo
Orduna Portús. Hispania Sacra, 64 (No. 130, 2012), 583–622.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

611

Troubled Consciences: New Understanding and Performances of Penance
among Catholics in Protestant England. Lisa McClain. Church History, 82
(Mar., 2013), 90–124.
An Accidental Historian: Erasmus and the English History of the Reformation.
Gregory D. Dodds. Church History, 82 ( June, 2013), 273–92.
Andreas Pevernage’s Cantiones Sacrae (1578) as a Counter-Reformation
Statement of Confessional Loyalty in the Low Countries. Gerald R.
Hoekstra. Sixteenth Century Journal, XLIV (Spring, 2013), 3–24.
Probabilism, Just War and Sovereign Supremacy in the Work of Gabriel
Vazquez. Daniel Schwartz. History of Political Thought, 34 (2, 2013),
177–94.
Revisiting Anne Line: Who Was She and Where Did She Come From? Martin
Dodwell. Recusant History, 31 (May, 2013), 375–89.
‘The Condition and State of a Scholar’: Disputation in William Alabaster’s
Conversion Narrative. Joshua Rodda. Recusant History, 31 (May, 2013),
391–410.
Le “Sacre Stimmate de Santo Francesco”. Una confraternita e un culto nella
Roma di Cinque-Seicento.Alessandro Serra. Rivista di Storia e Letteratura
Religiosa, XLVIII (2, 2012), 305–52.
Godparenthood: Driving local solidarity in Northern France in the Early
Modern Era: The example of Aubervilliers families in the sixteenth-eighteenth centuries. Camille Berteau, Vincent Gourdon, and Isabelle RobinRomero. History of the Family¸17 (Oct., 2012), 452–67.
Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries
Interfaith Encounters between Jews and Christians in the Early Modern
Period and Beyond: Toward a Framework. Daniel Jütte. American
Historical Review, 118 (Apr., 2013), 378–400.
Outside the Ghetto: Jews and Christians in the Duchy of Modena. Katherine
Aron-Beller. Journal of Early Modern History, 17 (3, 2013), 245–71.
A Political Necrology of God. Drew Daniel. Journal for Early Modern
Cultural Studies, 13 (Summer, 2013), 105–25.
The Lady is a Catholic: Lady Lovell’s Reply to Sir Edward Hoby. Arnold Hunt.
Recusant History, 31 (May, 2013), 411–37.
“For the maintenance of the true religion”: Calvinism and the Directors of the
Dutch West India Company. D. L. Noorlander. Sixteenth Century Journal,
XLIV (Spring, 2013), 73–95.
Notizie Historiche (continuazione). Giancarlo Caputi. Archivum Scholarum
Piarum, XXXVII (2013), 3–98.

612

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Orthodox Reform in Seventeenth-Century Kiev: The Evidence of a Library.
Liudmila V. Charipova. Journal of Early Modern History, 17 (3, 2013),
273–308.
Royalism, Print and the Clergy in Britain, 1639–1640 and 1642. Lloyd Bowen.
Historical Journal, 56 ( June, 2013), 297–319.
An Unpublished Study for Nicolas Poussin’s Second Sacrament of Extreme
Unction. Ann Sutherland Harris. Master Drawings, 51 (Spring, 2013),
39–48.
Lettres de controverse. Religion, publication et espace public en France au
XVIIe siècle. Jean-Pascal Gay. Annales, 68 ( Jan.–Mar., 2013), 7–41.
Christian Reunion, the Anglo-French Alliance and the English Catholic
Imagination, 1660–72. Gabriel Glickman. English Historical Review,
CXXVIII (Apr., 2013), 263–91.
The Corsican Affair. E.L. Devlin. History Today, 63 (Apr., 2013), 6–7.
Chikaba, la primera monja negra en el sistema esclavista finisecular español
del siglo XVII. Elvira M. Melián. Hispania Sacra, 64 (No. 130, 2012),
565–81.
El tránsito de S. José de Sebastiano Ricci y la iglesia de S. Pantaleón de Roma,
1695. Rubén Rodríguez Lara. Archivum Scholarum Piarum, XXXVII
(2013), 113–31.
The Determination of Man: Johann Joachim Spalding and the Protestant
Enlightenment. Michael Printy. Journal of the History of Ideas, 74 (Apr.,
2013), 189–212.
Conclusiones Mathemáticas en los Colegios jesuitas de Madrid, 1704–1762.
Agustín Udías, S.J. Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu, LXXXI (2, 2012),
551–78.
Bernard de Montfaucon et l’étude des manuscrits grecs. Brigitte Mondrain.
Scriptorium, LXVI (2, 2012), 281–316.
Die österreichische Gelehrtenwelt des frühen 18. Jahrhunderts im Spiegel
protestantischer Rezensionszeitschriften. Ines Peper. Mitteilungen des
Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung, 121 (1, 2013), 8–26.
Chinese novices, Jesuit missionaries and the accidental construction of
Sinophobia in Enlightenment France. Jeffrey D. Burson. French History, 27
(Mar., 2013), 21–44.
Aproximación a la “baja laboral” en el siglo XVIII. El “puncto de quartanario”
en la Catedral Burgalesa. Francisco José Sanz de la Higuera. Hispania
Sacra, 64 (No. 130, 2012), 661–719.
Écoles charitables et économie du livre au XVIIIe siècle: les livres à l’usage des
élèves des ursulines. Emmanuelle Chapron. Revue d’histoire moderne et
contemporaine, 59 (Oct.–Dec., 2012), 33–49.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

613

Il lungo “iter” della causa di beatificazione di P.Angelo Paoli. Emanuele Boaga,
O.Carm. Carmelus, 58 (1, 2011), 107–22.
“Nefarii novatores” e dialogo interconfessionale. Muratori e Maittaire. Corrado
Viola. Rivista di Storia e Letteratura Religiosa, XLVIII (2, 2012), 423–47.
“Piety and Popishness”: Tolerance and Epistolary Reaction to [Samuel]
Richardson’s Sir Charles Grandison [1753]. Patrick Mello. EighteenthCentury Fiction, 25 (Spring, 2013), 511–31.
Mein Muse bist du toll?—Allerdings. Geschmack, neue Lehrart und Kanonbildung des aufgeklärten Katholizismus in der “Banzer Zeitschrift”
(1772–1798). Thomas Wallnig. Mitteilungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung, 121 (1, 2013), 27–39.
Christian Gotthilf Salzmanns Osterpredigt “Vom Spaziergehen” (1778). Zur
Praxis populärer Kanzelrede in der deutschen Aufklärung. Andres
Strassberger. Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche, 110 (1, 2013), 50–72.
The Attempts to Transfer the Genevan Academy to Ireland and to America,
1782–1795. Jennifer Powell McNutt and Richard Whatmore. Historical
Journal, 56 ( June, 2013), 345–68.
Erotic Spirituality and the Catholic Revival in Napoleonic Paris: The Curious
History of Antonio Canova’s Penitent Magdalen. Christopher M. S. Johns.
Studies in Eighteenth-Century Culture, 42 (1, 2013), 1–20.
The Jesuit and the Libertine: Some Early Reception of Mozart’s Don
Giovanni. Edmund J. Goehring. Studies in Eighteenth-Century Culture, 42
(1, 2013), 49–79.
Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries
Los clérigos liberales [in the Cortes de Cádiz].Vicente Pascual. Carlos Franco
de Espés. Jerónimo Zurita, 87 (2012), 51–83.
Los clérigos absolutistas: Luis Joaquín Palacín y Jerónimo Castillón. José M. a
Incausa Moros. Jerónimo Zurita, 87 (2012), 85–95.
Tablas Capitulares de la Provincia Franciscana de la Concepción, en los años
1815–1835 (2a parte). Hipólito Barriguín Fernández. Archivo IberoAmericano, LXXII ( Jan–Dec., 2012), 5–164.
La cabale au service du christianisme au XIXe siècle: le chevalier Drach et le
père Perrone. Jérome Rousse-Lacordaire. Revue des sciences philosophiques et théologiques, 96 (Oct.–Dec., 2013), 703–48.
P. Giovanni Battista Rosani di S. Girolamo, XXVI Prepósito General de la Orden
de las Escuelas Pías (1836–1844). Adolfo García-Durán. Archivum
Scholarum Piarum, XXXVII (2013), 141–212.
Punch and the Nuns: Anti-Catholicism and Satire in Mid-Nineteenth Century
England. Rene Kollar, O.S.B. Downside Review, 130 ( July, 2012), 1–26.

614

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Sister-in-Law Marriage in the Empire: Religious Politics and Legislative Reform
in the Australian Colonies, 1850–1900. Charlotte Frew. Journal of Imperial
and Commonwealth History, 41 (2, 2013), 194–210.
El Escorial bajo la presidencia del P. Claret. Diez años de vida exuberante en
el Monasterio (1858–1868). Severiano Blanco Pacheco, CMF. La Ciudad de
Dios, CCXXVI ( Jan.–Apr., 2013). 127–76.
Serving France in Rome: the Zouaves Pontificaux and the French nation.
Martin Simpson. French History, 27 (Mar., 2013), 69–90.
Newman on the Closing of the Mind, the Eclipse of Religion and the Decline
of the Humanities. Jane Rupert. Downside Review, 130 ( July, 2012), 61–87.
John Henry Newman: Conversion as Inference. John T. Ford. Newman Studies
Journal, 10 (Spring, 2013), 41–55.
Does Devotion to Our Lady Ever Go Too Far? Newman on Marian Piety in the
Letter to Pusey (1866). Robert Andrews. Downside Review, 130 ( July,
2012), 43–60.
A History of John Henry Newman’s Archival Papers. Stephen Kelly. Newman
Studies Journal, 10 (Spring, 2013), 68–81.
Secularisation and the religious components of marriage seasonality in the
Don Army Territory (Southern Russia), 1867–1916. Noël Bonneuil and
Elena Fursa. Continuity and Change, 28 (May, 2013), 51–88.
Fray Francisco Javier Valdés y Noriega. Primer Director agustino del Real
Colegio Alfonso XII, primer Rector de los Estudios Superiores del Escorial,
Obispo de Jaca y Salamanca y senador. José Rodríguez Díez, O.S.A. La
Ciudad de Dios, CCXXVI ( Jan.–Apr., 2013), 99–126.
Mysticism in Bootle:Victorian Supernaturalism as an Historical Problem. Mary
Heimann. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 64 (Apr., 2013), 335–56.
Peter Abu’ofa and the Founding of the South Sea Evangelical Mission in the
Solomon Islands, 1894–1904. Clive Moore. Journal of Pacific History, 48
(Mar., 2013), 23–42.
National Days of Prayer: The Churches, the State and Public Worship in
Britain, 1899–1957. Philip Williamson. English Historical Review, CXXVIII
(Apr., 2013), 323–66.
‘Deeply Interested in These Children Whom You Have Not Seen’. The
Protestant Sunday School View of the Pacific, 1900–1940. Christine Weir.
Journal of Pacific History, 48 (Mar., 2013), 43–62.
Tra paura e tradizione. Il risveglio religioso nella Francia della Grande Guerra.
Giovanni Cavagnini. Rivista di Storia e Letteratura Religiosa, XLVIII (2,
2012), 375–403.
The Intertwining of Religion and Nationhood in Interwar Yugoslavia: The
School Celebrations of St Sava’s Day. Pieter Troch. Slavonic and East
European Review, 91 (Apr., 2013), 235–61.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

615

Saint Augustin entre Papini et Prezzolini. Paola Cattani. Rivista di Storia e
Letteratura Religiosa, XLVIII (2, 2012), 353–73.
“Ein Vorläufer und ein Beispiel”. Paul Couturier als Vordenker und Wegbereiter
der Ökumene. David Kulke. Catholica, 67 (1, 2013), 19–39.
The Yasukuni Shrine Affair: Paolo Marella and the Revision of the Prohibition
of Eastern Rites. Klaus Schatz, S.J. Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu,
LXXXI (2, 2012), 451–79.
Die Gründung der altkatholischen Kirchengemeinde Münster und der Streit
um die Ignatiuskirche 1939—Kulturkampfmechanismen im Nationalsozialismus? Stefan Sudmann. Internationale Kirchliche Zeitschrift, 102
(Oct.–Dec., 2012), 269–85.
A Grey Site of Memory: Le Chambon-sur-Lignon and Protestant
Exceptionalism on the Plateau Vivarais-Lignon. Marianne Ruel Robins.
Church History, 82 ( June, 2013), 317–52.
The Conversion of England: John Carmel Heenan and the Catholic Missionary
Society, 1947–1951. James Hagerty. Recusant History, 31 (May, 2013),
461–81.
La riscostituzione della Commissione liturgica per la Diocesi di Roma nel
1956. Giuseppe Midili, O.Carm. Ephemerides Liturgicae, CXXVI (Oct.–
Dec., 2012), 401–18.
The Second Vatican Council and the Czechoslovak State. Stanislav Balik.
Religion, State and Society, 41 (1, 2013), 5–17.
Secularists, Humanists and religious education: religious crisis and curriculum
change in England, 1963–1975. Rob Freathy and Stephen G. Parker. History
of Education, 42 (Mar., 2013), 222–56.
Aus dem Konzilstagebuch von Josef Andreas Jungmann SJ. Rudolf Pacik.
Liturgisches Jahrbuch, 62 (4, 2012), 260–75.
Eugen Biser: Una aproximación a su persona y obra. Rainer Sörgel. Estudios
Eclesiásticos, 88 ( Jan.–Mar., 2013), 45–81.
Liturgiewissenschaftliche Arbeit an der Ökumene—Die Deustchsprachige
Liturgiewissenschaft im Studienjahr 2011/12. Benedikt Kranemann.
Liturgisches Jahrbuch, 64 (4, 2012), 276–95.
American
John Cotton Reconsidered: Law and Grace in Two Worlds. David Parnham.
Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 64 (Apr., 2013), 296–334.
The Trouble with Christian History: Thomas Prince’s “Great Awakening.”
Timothy E.W. Gloege. Church History, 82 (Mar., 2013), 125–65.

616

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

“Turned Their Minds to Religion”: Oquaga and the First Iroquois Church,
1748–1776. Daniel R. Mandell. Early American Studies, 11 (Spring, 2013),
211–42.
The French Education of Martha Jefferson Randolph. Catherine Kerrison.
Early American Studies, 11 (Spring, 2013), 349–94.
From “Jacobinical Clamor” to the “One True Church”: The Conversion of
Stephen Cleveland Blyth and the Political Discourse in the Early Republic.
William P. Miskinis. American Catholic Studies, 124 (Spring, 2013), 43–63.
Religious polygenism and the early science of human origins.Terence D. Keel.
History of the Human Sciences, 26 (Apr., 2013), 3–32.
Pioneer Pastors in Monroe and Lower Michigan:The Successive Ministries of
Rev. Friedrich Schmid and Rev. G. W. C. Hattstädt. Jack D. Ferguson.
Concordia Historical Institute Quarterly, 86 (Spring, 2013), 33–45.
In Defense of Civil and Religious Liberty: Anti-Sabbatarianism in the United
States before the Civil War. Tim Verhoeven. Church History, 82 ( June,
2013), 293–316.
Record of a Journey: Mother Benedicta Riepp and Companions Travel to
North America, part I. Helen Hergstritt, O.S.B, and Ephrem Hollermann,
O.S.B. American Benedictine Review, 64 (Mar., 2013), 67–92.
A Separate People: A History of the Oklahoma Amish. Marvin E. Kroeker.
Chronicles of Oklahoma, XC (Winter, 2012–13), 388–415.
Peter Elias Magennis in America. Alfred Isacsson, O.Carm. Carmelus, 58 (1,
2011), 33–53.
Hearing the Silence:The University of Dayton, the Ku Klux Klan, and Catholic
Universities and Colleges in the 1920s. William Vance Trollinger, Jr.
American Catholic Studies, 124 (Spring, 2013), 1–21.
Dorothy Day’s social Catholicism: the formative French influence. Robert
Atkins. International Journal for the Study of the Christian Church, 13
(2, 2013), 96–110.
The Barons of Middletown and the Decline of the North-Eastern AngloProtestant Elite. Ronald W. Schatz. Past & Present, No. 219 (May, 2013),
165–200.
“Their blood shall not be shed in vain”:American Evangelical Missionaries and
the Search for God and Country in Post–World War II Asia. Sarah MillerDavenport. Journal of American History, 99 (Mar., 2013), 1109–32.
Friends and Foes: Religious Publications and the Delano Grape Strike and
Boycott (1965–1970). Andrew Jacobs. American Catholic Studies, 124
(Spring, 2013), 23–42.
The Cold War Romance of Religious Authenticity: Will Herberg, William F.
Buckley, Jr., and the Rise of the New Right. K. Healon Gaston. Journal of
American History, 99 (Mar., 2013), 1133–58.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

617

Latin American
Las órdenes religiosas en espacio urbano colonial—Mendoza (Argentina). El
caso de la Compañía de Jesús. Silvia A. Cirvini. Hispania Sacra, 64 (No. 130,
2012), 623–59.
Revisiting Cultivated Agriculture, Animal Husbandry, and Daily Life in the
Guaraní Missions. Julia Sarreal. Ethnohistory, 60 (Winter, 2013), 101–24.
Preocupaciones terrenas en una cofradía. Las ánimas benditas del purgatorio
de Jujuy en el período colonial. Enrique Normando Cruz. Hispania Sacra,
64 (No. 130, 2012), 721–36.
Sobre el ataque a los jesuitas ¿una variante? Edberto Oscar Acevedo.Temas de
historia argentina y americana, 20 ( Jan.–Dec., 2012), 15–21.
México y su Iglesia en 1962: entre la Revolución cubana y el Concilio. Manuel
Olimón Nolasco. Efemérides Mexicana, 30 (Sept.–Dec., 2012), 335–79.

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED
________
Athans, Mary Christine, B.V.M. In Quest of the Jewish Mary. The Mother of
Jesus in History, Theology, and Spirituality. (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books.
2013. Pp. xxviii, 210. $19.00 paperback.)
Bellarmine, Robert, S.J. On the Eternal Happiness of the Saints. Translated
from the Latin with introduction and notes by Charles S. Kraszewski. (St.
Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources. 2012. Pp. viii, 244. $22.95 paperback.)
Originally published as De aeterna felicitate sanctorum libri quinque in
1616.
Bonoldi, Andrea, Andrea Leonardi, and Katia Occhi (Eds.). Interessi e regole.
Operatori e istituzioni nel commercio transalpino in età moderna
(secoli XVI–XIX). [Annali dell’Istituto storico italo-germanico in Trento,
Quaderni, 87.] (Bologna: Società editrice il Mulino. 2012. Pp. 334. €25,00
paperback.)
Cervone, Cristina Maria. Poetics of the Incarnation: Middle English Writing
and the Leap of Love. [The Middle Ages Series.] (Philadelphia: University
of Pennsylvania Press. 2012. Pp. vii, 312. $69.95).
Collins, Michael. John Paul II: The Path to Sainthood. (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist
Press. 2011. Pp. 119. $19.95 paperback.)
Doody, Colleen. Detroit’s Cold War: The Origins of Postwar Conservatism.
[The Working Class in American History.] (Urbana: University of Illinois
Press. 2012. Pp. x, 175. $50.00.) Chapter 4 deals with “Anti-Communism
and Catholicism in Cold-War Detroit” (pp. 76–92).
D’Ottavio, Gabriele. L’Europa dei tedeschi. La Repubblica Federale di
Germania e l’integrazione europea, 1949–1966. [Annali dell’Istituto
storico italo-germanico in Trento, Monografie, 62.] (Bologna: Società
editrice il Mulino. 2012. Pp. 282. €22,00 paperback.)
Griffith, Sidney H. The Bible in Arabic. The Scriptures of the “People of the
Book” in the Language of Islam. [Jews, Christians, and Muslims from the
Ancient to the Modern World.] (Princeton: Princeton University Press.
2013. Pp. xiv, 255. $29.95.)
Harrington, Joel F. The Faithful Executioner: Life and Death, Honor and
Shame in the Turbulent Sixteenth Century. (New York: Farrar, Straus, and
Giroux. 2013. Pp. xxvi, 283. $28.00.)
618

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED

619

Henkelmann, Andreas, and Matthias Sellmann (Eds.). Gemeinde unter
Druck—Suchbewegungen im weltkirchlichen Vergleich: Deutschland
und die USA. Parish under Pressure: Quests for Meaning from a Global
Perspective: Germany and the United States. (Münster: Aschendroff
Verlag. 2012. Pp. 328. €24,80.)
King’oo, Clare Costley. Miserere Mei: The Penitential Psalms in Late
Medieval and Early Modern England. [ReFormations: Medieval and Early
Modern.] (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press. 2012. Pp. xxii,
283. $38.00 paperback.)
Kinney, Angela M. (Ed.). The Vulgate Bible,Vol.VI: The New Testament. DouayRheims Translation. Introduction by Swift Edgar. [Dumbarton Oaks
Medieval Library.] (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. 2013. Pp. xl,
1538. $29.95.)
Levillain, Philippe (Ed.).“Rome, l’Unique Objet de mon Ressentiment.”
Regards critiques sur la papauté. [Collection de l’École Française de
Rome, no. 453.] (Rome: École Française de Rome. 2011. Pp. iv, 394. €45,00
paperback.) The proceedings of a colloquium held in Paris on October
3–4, 2008, and organized by the Institut universitaire de France. Contents:
Philippe Levillain, “Avant-Propos: suite à un dictionnaire” (pp. 1–2);
Philippe Boutry, “Introduction” (pp. 3–8). Études: Souverainetés: Armand
Jamme, “La haine du pape: des difficiles images du souverain pontife
comme prince” (pp. 13–38); Olivier Poncet,“Un anti-romanisme bien tempéré? Le système bénéficial entre papauté, monarchie et société (France,
XIIIe–XVIIIe siècle)” (pp. 39–62); Alain Tallon, “‘C’est le pape et non un
prince’ (Catherine de Médicis): la disqualification politique de la papauté
au temps de la Réforme catholique” (pp. 63–78); Philippe Boutry,“La tentative française de destruction du Saint Siège (1789–1814)” (pp. 79–100).
Voix dans la Mêlée: Alexander Koller,“Quam bene pavit apes, tam male
pavit oves: Les critiques formulées contre le pontificat d’Urbain VIII” (pp.
103–14); Jean-Dominique Durand, “Benoît XV et Pie XII” (pp. 115–34).
Magistère et Épreuve des Sciences: Jean-Louis Quantin, “La menace des
faits: érudition moderne et condamnations romaines” (pp. 137–64);
François Laplanche, “Loisy face au régime intellectuel de l’Église
catholique” (pp. 165–75). L’Antéchrist: Daniela Solfaroli Camillocci, “Le
pape selon les Réformés: Genève et l’Antéchrist romain, un parcours entre
polémique et controverse (XVIe–début XVIIe siècle)” (pp. 179–92); JeanMarc Ticchi, “Le pape et l’Antéchrist selon quelques visionnaires français
du XVIIIe siècle” (pp. 193–214); Charles-Edouard Levillain, “Papistes et
antipapistes dans l’Angleterre des Stuart (1640–1689)” (pp. 215–27).
Controverses: Sylvio Hermann de Franceschi,“‘Saint Pierre et Saint Paul: les
deux chefs qui n’en font qu’un’: primauté romaine et pétrinité aux temps
post-tridentins” (pp. 231–60); Martine Boiteux, “Les signes de la controverse dans l’espace romain au XVIIe siècle” (pp. 261–77); Philippe
Levillain,“Vatican II en contre-chant” (pp. 279–98); Hervé Yannou,“La con-

620

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED

troverse de Ratisbonne” (pp. 299–317). Racconti Romani: Pascale
Bourgain, “La satire anti-curiale médiévale” (pp. 321–38); Ottavia Niccoli,
“La satira anti-romana degli umanisti: Pasquino, Marcantonio, Michiel,
Erasmo” (pp. 339–53). Opinions: Didier Sicard,“De la vie sacrée à la culture
de mort” (pp. 357–62); Annibale Zambarbieri,“Conclusions” (pp. 363–71).
Mazohl, Brigitte, and Paolo Pombeni (Eds.). Minoranze negli imperi. Popoli
fra identità nazionale e ideologia imperiale. [Annali dell’Istituto storico
italo-germanico in Trento, Quaderni, 88.] (Bologna: Società editrice il
Mulino. 2012. Pp. 470. €34,00 paperback.)
Parry, Glyn. The Arch-Conjuror of England, John Dee. (New Haven: Yale
University Press. 2011. Pp. xii, 335. $55.00.)
Riegle, Rosalie G. (Ed.). Doing Time for Peace: Resistance, Family, and
Community. (Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press. 2012. Pp. xviii, 387.
$29.95 paperback.) A collection of sixty-eight interviews of persons who
had been imprisoned for civil disobedience or had participated in resistance actions with the expectation of imprisonment and of twenty others
who spoke about the risk of arrest as a member of a family and a community. They range in time from conscientious objectors in World War II to
protestors against the recent war in Iraq.The editor is an oral historian.
Taylor, Patrick. Pray for Us Sinners (New York: Forge. 2013. Pp. 333. $24.99.)
A novel of the Irish Troubles.