iv

GENERAL INDEX

GENERAL INDEX

Volume XCIX (2013)
Compiled by

Orysia Mack
Abbreviations:
b.n.: brief notice
biog.: biography
men.: mentioned
obit.: obituary
rev.: review

Académie Internationale des Sciences

Anderson, Margaret Lavinia

Religieuse

Journeys in Church History: Confessions

Conference on “Formulas of Convocation
in Orthodox Synods” scheduled, 193
Acosta, José de

Publishes articles on “Les abbayes

men., 29–51

martiniennes,” 196–97

Agostini, Marco, and Giovanna Baldissin
Molli, eds.
(1495–1543), rev., 353–54

Ansgar, Saint

men., 159–61

men., 115–17

Alfieri, Fernanda, and Claudio Ferlan, eds.
Avventure dell’obbedienza nella Compagnia di
Gesù. Teorie e prassi fra XVI e XIX secolo,
rev., 356–57
rev. of Bernhard Lang, 100–01

Narratives of

Mittepartei: Das Historische Dilemma der
CVP, rev., 574–75

Saints

Athanasia, and Galaktion and Episteme,
rev., 112–13
American Catholic Historical Association

America meeting, 192
Ames-Lewis, Francis
rev. of Anne Leader, 143–44

e

siècle publishes articles on “Arnauld,

Thomas d’Aquin et les thomistes,” 815

Julian and Basilissa, Andronikos and

Sessions at Renaissance Society of

Forum Essay, 761–62
XVII

Celibate Marriages in Late Antique and

men., 675–702, 816

Trent: What Happened at the Council,
Aquinas, Thomas, Saint

Alwis, Anne P.

American Cusanus Society

U.S. History, rev., 809–11

Appold, Kenneth G.

Zwischen katholischem Milieu und bürgerlicher

American Civil War

men., 52–77, 455–79, 499–530, 675–702
Appleby, R. Scott, and Kathleen Sprows
Catholics in the American Century: Recasting

Altermatt, Urs

Schedules spring 2013 meeting, 189

Anti-Catholicism

Cummings, eds.

Almond, Philip C.

94th Annual Meeting, 814

Tagebücher als Konzilsquellen”
published, 412

Albert VII, Archduke of Austria

Awards prizes, 406–08

Annuarium Historiae Conciliorum
Papers on “Akten, Dekrete und

Atti del Convegno di Studi Gian Matteo Giberti

Byzantine Hagiography: The Lives of

of a Fellow Traveler, 623–48
Annales de Bretagne et des Pays de l’Ouest

Armenteros, Carolina
rev. of Emile Perreau-Saussine, 166–68
Arnauld, Antoine
XVII

e

siècle publishes articles on “Arnauld,

Thomas d’Aquin et les thomistes,” 815
Augé, Isabelle
Églises en dialogue: Arméniens et Byzantins dans
la seconde moitié du XII

e

siècle, rev., 777–78

Augustine of Hippo, Bishop and Saint
men., 110–12, 324–26, 536–37
Augustinian canons
men., 344–46
Backus, Irena
rev. of Katherine van Liere, Simon Ditchfield, and Howard Louthan, eds., 557–58

v

GENERAL INDEX

Bailey, Jacob

Bennett, Nicholas, ed.

men., 392–93

The Registers of

Baker, Geoff
Reading and Politics in Early Modern England:
The Mental World of

Bishop Henry Burghersh,

1320–1342. Vol. III: Memoranda Register
a Seventeenth-Century

Catholic Gentleman, rev., 369–70
Barber, Malcolm

Licences for Non-Residence, Testamentary
Business, Letters Dimissory, Appointment of
Penitentiaries, rev., 133–34

rev. of William of Adam, 131–32
Barbierato, Federico

Bennette, Rebecca Ayako
Fighting for the Soul of

The Inquisitor in the Hat Shop: Inquisition,
Forbidden Books and Unbelief

Dispensations for Study Cum ex eo,

in Early

Modern Venice, rev., 368–69
Bargellini, Clara
rev. of Tiziano Ghirelli, 803–04
Barking Abbey
men., 774–75
Barnes, Timothy D.
rev. of Elizabeth DePalma Digeser,

378–79
Bernard, G. W.
The Late Medieval Church: Vitality and
Vulnerability before the Break with Rome,
rev., 349–50
Bertram, Martin
Kanonisten und ihre Texte (1234 bis Mitte 14.
Jh.): 18 Aufsätze und 14 Exkurse, rev.,

105–07

546–48

Baroni, Geno

Bettley, James

men., 298–317
Basil, John D.
rev. of Scott M. Kenworthy, 797–99
Bauer, Stefan
rev. of Katherine Van Liere, Simon
Ditchfield, and Howard Louthan, eds.,
146–48
Bauman, Robert
“Kind of a Secular Sacrament”: Father
Geno Baroni, Monsignor John J. Egan,
and the Catholic War on Poverty,
298–317
Becker, Winfried
rev. of Veronika Laufen, 381–82
Behrens, Susan Fitzpatrick
rev. of Edward T. Brett, 185–87
Bell, David N.
rev. of E. Rozanne Elder, ed., 340–41
rev. of Jennifer N. Brown and Donna
Alfano Bussell, eds., 774–75
Bell, James B.
rev. of James S. Leamon, 392–93
Bellitto, Christopher M., and David
Zachariah Flanagin, eds.
Reassessing Reform: A Historical Investigation
into Church Renewal, rev., 786–88
Benedict XIII, Pope
men., 569–70
Benedict of Nursia, Saint
men., 116–17
Benedictine Order
men., 126–27, 413, 539–40
Bennett, Jeffrey S.
When the Sun Danced: Myth, Miracles, and

Germany: The Catholic

Strug gle for Inclusion after Unification, rev.,

rev. of T. A. Heslop, Elizabeth Mellings,
and Margit Thøfner, eds., 318–19
Bevans, Stephen, S.V.D.
rev. of Ernesti Buonaiuti, 572–73
Bevegnati, Fra Giunta
The Life and Miracles of

Saint Margaret of

Cortona (1247–1297), rev., 785–86
Bireley, Robert, S.J.
rev. of Alexander Koller, ed., 792–93
Blastic, Michael W., O.F.M.; Jay M.
Hammond; and J. A. Wayne Hellmann,
O.F.M., eds.
The Writings of

Francis of

Prayers. The Writings of

Assisi: Letters and
Francis of

Assisi:

Rules. Testament and Admonitions. The
Writings of

Clare of

Assisi: Letters, Form of

Life, Testament and Blessing, rev., 124–25
Blessing, Benita
rev. of Sean Brennan, 174–75
Blosser, Benjamin P.
Become Like the Angels: Origen’s Doctrine of
the Soul, rev., 769–70
Blumenthal, Uta-Renate
rev. of Mary Stroll, 542–44
Bocksdorf, Dietrich von
men., 140–41
Borja, Francisco de
men., 559–62
Bosco, John, Saint
Articles published, 413
Bouchard, Constance B.
rev. of Alain Mercier, 533–34
Brekus, Catherine A.
Sarah Osborn’s World: The Rise of

Evangelical

Modernity in Early Twentieth-Century

Christianity in Early America, rev.,

Portugal, rev., 171–72

804–05

vi

GENERAL INDEX

Brennan, Sean
The Politics of

Caffiero, Marina
Religion in Soviet-Occupied

Germany: The Case of

Berlin-Brandenburg

1945–1949, rev., 174–75
Brett, Edward T.

Jews, Christians,

and Converts in Papal Rome, rev., 795–96
Cajetan, Thomas de Vio
men., 142–43

The New Orleans Sisters of

the Holy Family:

African American Missionaries to the
Garifuna of

Forced Baptisms: Histories of

Belize, rev., 185–87

Brown, Jennifer N., and Donna Alfano
Bussell, eds.
Barking Abbey and Medieval Literary Culture:
Authorship and Authority in a Female
Community, rev., 774–75
Bruno-Jofré, Rosa
The Catholic Church in Chile and the
Social Question in the 1930s: The
Political Pedagogical Discourse of
Fernando Vives del Solar, S.J., 703–26
Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire Protestantisme
Français
Publishes articles on “Correspondances
pastorals,” 602
Buonaiuti, Ernesto
Lezioni di storia ecclesiastica. Il medioevo, rev.,
572–73
Burger, Michael
Bishops, Clerks, and Diocesan Governance in
Thirteenth-Century England: Reward and
Punishment, rev., 780–81
Burghersh, Henry
men., 133–34
Burnett, Amy Nelson
rev. of Karine Crousaz, 564–65
Burr, David
rev. of Fra Giunta Bevegnati, 785–86
rev. of Jerry B. Pierce, 125–26
Burton, Janet, and Julie Kerr
The Cistercians in the Middle Ages, rev.,
121–22
Burton, Janet, and Karen Stöber, eds.
The Regular Canons in the Medieval British
Isles, rev., 344–46
Butler, Anne M.
rev. of Kathleen Holscher, 395–96
Butler, Sara M.
rev. of Sara McDougall, 351–52
Butterwick, Richard
The Polish Revolution and the Catholic Church,

Callahan, Daniel
rev. of Rijcklof Hofman, ed., 137–38
Cameron, Averil
b.n. of Yuri Stoyanov, 188
Campbell, Debra
rev. of Katharine E. Harmon, 585–86
Canadian Catholic Historical Association
Eightieth annual meeting scheduled, 193
Volume 78 of Historical Studies published,
199
Caravale, Giorgio
Predicazione e Inquisizione nell’Italia del
Cinquecento: Ippolito Chizzola tra eresia e
controversia antiprotestante, rev., 791–92
Carey, Mathew
Early American Studies publishes issue on
“Ireland, America, and Mathew Carey,”
816
Carter, Michael S.
A “Traiterous Religion”: Indulgences and
the Anti-Catholic Imagination in Eighteenth-Century New England, 52–77
Castillo, Dennis A.
The Santa Marija Convoy: Faith and Endurance
in Wartime Malta, 1940–1942, rev., 387–88
Caterina de’Ricci, Saint
men., 156–57
Catherine of Siena, Saint
men., 135–37
Catholic University of Bratislava
“I Santi Cirillo e Metodio” conference
scheduled, 192
Center for Migration Studies
New location announced, 410–11
Cesareo, Francesco
Trent: What Happened at the Council,
Forum Essay, 755–57
Chappell, Carolyn Lougee
rev. of Christie Sample Wilson, 163–64
Chen, Hui-Hung
rev. of Paul Widmer, ed., 592–93
Chiapparini, Giuliano
Valentino Gnostico e Platonico: Il

1788–1792: A Political History, rev.,

Valentinianesimo della “Grande Notizia” di

165–66

Ireneo di Lione: Fra esegesi gnostica e filosofia

Buzzi, Franco
Trent: What Happened at the Council,
Forum Essay, 757–59
Bysted, Ane L. et al.
Jerusalem in the North: Denmark and the Baltic
Crusades, 1100–1522, rev., 319–20

medioplatonica, rev., 105–06
Chizzola, Ippolito
men., 791–92
Chmielewski, Laura M.
The Spice of

Popery: Converging Christianities

on an Early American Frontier, rev., 177–78

vii

GENERAL INDEX

Christie, Nancy, and Michael Gauvreau
Christian Churches and Their Peoples, 1840–
1965: A Social History of

Religion in

Canada, rev., 182–84

Trent: What Happened at the Council, Forum
Crane, Richard Francis

Des missionnaires plongés dans la Grande
Guerre, 1914–1918: Lettres des Missions
étrangères de Paris, rev., 383–85
Cistercian Order

rev. of Jacques Prévotat, 172–74
Cristianesimo nella storia
Papers published on “I sinodi” and “La
Chiese e il denaro,” 195–96

men., 121–22, 340–41

Crouch, David

Clare of Assisi, Saint

rev. of Kathryn Hurlock, 118–19

men., 124–25

Crousaz, Karine

Clark, James G.

L’Académie de Lausanne entre Humanisme et

The Benedictines in the Middle Ages, rev.,
539–40

Réforme (ca. 1537–1560), rev., 564–65
Cullen, Clara, and Margaret Ó hÓgartaigh, eds.

Clarke, Graeme

His Grace Is Displeased: Selected Correspondence

rev. of Éric Rebillard, 770–72
Claussen, M. A.

of

John Charles McQuaid, rev., 579–81

Cullen, Paul, Cardinal

rev. of Michael Edward Moore, 107–09
Claydon, Tony, and Thomas N. Corns, eds.
Religion, Culture and National Community in
the 1670s, rev., 162–63
Clopper, Lawrence M.

men., 168
Cummings, Brian, ed.
The Book of

Common Prayer : The Texts of

1549, 1559, and 1662, rev., 155–56
Cummins, Tom

rev. of Nicholas Bennett, ed., 133–34
Cohen, Thomas M.

Beyond the Lettered City: Indigenous Literacies in
the Andes, rev., 589–91

rev. of Robert Aleksander Maryks, 355–56
Coleman, Michael C.

Curley, Robert
rev. of Jason H. Dormady, 402–03

rev. of Hilary E. Wyss, 178–80
Collins, Roger

Curran, Robert Emmett
Shaping American Catholicism: Maryland and

rev. of Jamie Wood, 331–32

New York 1805–1915, rev., 180–81
Curtright, Travis

Compostellanum
Publishes articles in honor of D. José
Antonio González Garcia, 601
Congar, Yves, O.P.

The One Thomas More, rev., 352–53
Cuthbert, Saint
men., 335–36

the Council, rev., 175–77

Congregation of Holy Cross
men., 675–702

Daigler, Mary Jeremy
Incompatible with God’s Design: A History of
the Women’s Ordination Movement in the

Congregation of the Holy Spirit
men., 78–95

U.S. Roman Catholic Church, rev., 805–07
Damiani, Bruno

Congregation of the Most Holy Redeemer
Conference scheduled, 411
men., 376–77

rev. of Kevin Donnelly and Sandra Sider,
eds., 361–63
Dauzet, Dominique-Marie, and Martine

Connelly, John

Plouvier, eds.

Receives ACHA John Gilmary Shea Prize,
406

L’ordre de Prémontré au XVIIIe siècle, rev.,
372–73

Constantine the Great

Davis, Cyprian, O.S.B.

Conference scheduled, 814
Coppa, Frank J.

Obit. for Joseph Lackner, S.M., 598–603
Receives ACHA Distinguished Teaching

The Life & Pontificate of Pope Pius XII: Between
History and Controversy, rev., 575–77
The Policies and Politics of

Pope Pius XII:

Between Diplomacy and Morality, rev., 575–77
Crăciun, Maria, and Elaine Fulton, eds.
Communities of

Conferences scheduled, 193, 411, 599, 814
Essay, 749–64

Christophe, Paul, ed.

My Journal of

Council of Trent

Devotion: Religious Orders and

Society in East Central Europe, 1450–1800,
rev., 144–46

Award, 407–08
Day, Dorothy
Conference on scheduled, 814–15
Del Col, Andrea (Anne Jacobson Schutte,
trans.)
rev. of Jane K. Wickersham, 788–90
de Valera, Eamon
men., 799–800

viii

GENERAL INDEX

Díaz, Mónica

Escriva, Josemariá, Saint
Conference on Escriva scheduled, 599

Indigenous Writings from the Convent:
Negotiating Ethnic Autonomy in Colonial
Mexico, rev., 401–02

rev. of Andrew E. Larsen, 549–50

Díaz-Stevens, Ana María

Eusebius of Emesa

rev. of Timothy Matovina, 390–92

men., 109–10
Evans, G. R.

Il Dizionario storio dell’Inquisizione
Articles published, 197

The Roots of

Dietrich, Donald J.
rev. of Stefan Warthmann, 373–74

Fabun, Sean
Catholic Chaplains in the Civil War,

A Threat to Public Piety: Christians, Platonists,
and the Great Persecution, rev., 105–07
Dipple, Geoffrey

the Low Countries: Identity and

Impact (1540–1773). Proceedings of

Dixon, C. Scott

the

International Congress at the Faculty of

rev. of David M. Luebke et al., eds.,
358–60

Theology and Religious Studies, KU Leuven
(3–5 December 2009), rev., 790–91

Dolbeau, François

Faggioli, Massimo

Prophètes, apôtres et disciples dans les traditions
chrétiennes d’Occident: Vies brèves et listes en
latin, rev., 765–66
a Mystic Soul in Poetry and Prose,

rev., 361–63

The Case of

Galileo: A Closed Question?, rev.,

366–67
rev. of John Wortley, 537–38

Primitive Revolution: Restorationist Religion and

Fay, Terence J., S.J.
rev. of Nancy Christie and Michael

the Mexican Revolution,

1940–1968, rev., 402–03

Gauvreau, 182–84
Ferdinand III, Emperor

Downside Review, The
Publishes articles on Glastonbury, 196
Duerloo, Luc

men., 796–97
Filippini, Orietta

Dynasty and Piety. Archduke Albert (1598–
1621) and Habsburg Political Culture in an
Religious Wars, rev., 159–61

Dunn, Marilyn

Benedetto XIII (1724–1730): Un papa del
Settecento secondo il giudizio dei contemporanei, rev., 569–70
Fisher, Alexander J.

rev. of Bruce L. Venarde, ed., 116–17
Durandus, William, Bishop

rev. of Andrew H. Weaver, 796–97
Fletcher, Alan J.

men., 1–28

rev. of Holly Johnson, 552–53

Egan, John J., Monsignor

Flood, David, O.F.M.

men., 298–317

rev. of Michael W. Blastic, O.F.M.; Jay M.

Ekelund, Robert B., Jr., and Robert D.

Hammond; and J. A. Wayne Hellmann,

Tollison

O.F.M., eds., 124–25

Economic Origins of

Roman Christianity, b.n.,

596

Fonnesberg-Schmidt, Iben
rev. of Ane L. Bysted et al., 319–20

Elder, E. Rozanne
(ed.), The Great Beginning of
Narrative of

388–89

Farag, Lois

Dormady, Jason H.
the Idea of

Vatican II: The Battle for Meaning, rev.,
Fantoli, Annibale

Donnelly, Kevin, and Sandra Sider, eds.

Ford, John T., C.S.C.
Cîteaux: A

the Beginning of

the Cistercian

Order—The Exordium Magnum of
of

675–702
Faesen, Rob, and Leo Kenis, eds.
The Jesuits of

rev. of Guy Geltner, 346–47

Age of

the Reformation: Tradition,

Emergence and Rupture, rev., 151–52

Digeser, Elizabeth DePalma

Journeys of

Etzkorn, Girard J.

Conrad

Eberbach, rev., 340–41

rev. of Janet Burton and Julie Kerr, 121–22
Elizabeth of Hungary, Saint
men., 783–85
Elliott, John H.
b.n. of Robert B. Ekelund, Jr., and Robert
D. Tollison, 596

Obit. for Jacques Marie Gres-Gayer, 189–99
Formicola, Jo Renee
rev. of Emma Long, 808–09
Forster, Marc R.
rev. of Dominique-Marie Dauzet and
Martine Plouvier, eds., 372–73
Foster, Elizabeth A.
Faith in Empire: Religion, Politics, and Colonial
Rule in French Senegal, 1880–1940, rev.,
812–13

ix

GENERAL INDEX

Francis of Assisi, Saint

Gecser, Ottó

biog., 122–25

The Feast and the Pulpit: Preachers, Sermons

men., 342–43

and the Cult of

Francis, Norman C.
Receives ACHA Distinguished Service to
Catholic Studies Award, 408
Franciscan Order

Hungary,

Geltner, Guy
The Making of

Medieval Antifraternalism:

Polemic, Violence, Deviance, and

Franciscan studies conference, 193
men., 343–44

Remembrance, rev., 346–47
Genova, James E.

François, Wim

rev. of Elizabeth A. Foster, 812–13

Trent: What Happened at the Council,
Forum Essay, 759–60
Renovatio et Unitas—Nikolaus von Kues als
Reformer. Theorie und Praxis der reformatio
im 15. Jahrhundert, rev., 322–24
Frankopan, Peter

Gerardus Magnus
men., 137–38
Ghirelli, Tiziano
Ierotopi Cristiani alla luce della riforma liturgica
del Concilio Vaticano II. Dettami di

The First Crusade: The Call from the East,
rev., 544–45

Conferenze Episcopali nazionali per la progettazione di luoghi liturgici. Prime indagini,

Frascella, Daniel V.

rev., 803–04

rev. of Owen White and J. P. Daughton,
eds., 383–85

Giberti, Gian Matteo
men., 353–54

rev. of Paul Christophe, ed., 383–85
Friedman, John

Gill, Jill K.
Embattled Ecumenism: The National Council of

the Talmud: Paris, 1240, rev.,

548–49

Churches, the Vietnam War, and the Trials
of

Fuhrer, Therese, ed.

the Protestant Left, rev., 396–98

Gillespie, Vincent, and Kantik Ghosh, eds.

Rom und Mailand in der Spätantike:
Repräsentationen städtischer Räume in
Literatur, Architektur und Kunst, rev.,
327–28

After Arundel: Religious Writing in FifteenthCentury England, rev., 138–39
Given, James
rev. of R. I. Moore, 336–38

Fürst, Alfons

Gladysz, Mikolaj

Von Origenes und Hieronymus zu Augustinus.
Studien zur Antiken Theologiegeschichte, rev.,
536–37

The Forgotten Crusaders: Poland and the
Crusader Movement in the Twelfth and
Thirteenth Centuries, rev., 545–46

Galilei, Galileo

Gomá, Isidro, Cardinal

men., 366–67

men., 499–530

Gallagher, Lowell, ed.
Redrawing the Map of

George, Duke of Saxony
men., 148–49, 153–55

Frank, Thomas, and Norbert Winkler, eds.

The Trial of

St. Elizabeth of

1235–ca. 1500, rev., 783–85

González Garcia, D. José Antonio
Early Modern English

Catholicism, rev., 363–64

postellanum in honor of González, 601

Gameson, Richard

Grams, Grant

rev. of Karen Louise Jolly, 335–36
Gaposchkin, M. Cecilia

Der Volksverein Deutsch-canadischer
Katholiken: The Rise and Fall of a

The Place of Jerusalem in Western
Crusading Rites of Departure
(1095–1300), 1–28

German-Catholic Cultural and
Immigration Society, 1909–52, 480–98
Greatrex, Joan

García Hernán, Enrique, and María del Pilar
Ryan

The English Benedictine Cathedral Priories: Rule
and Practice, c. 1270–c. 1420, rev., 126–27

Francisco de Bor ja y su tiempo: Política, religión y
cultura en la Edad Moderna, rev., 559–62
Gauvreau, Michael, and Nancy Christie
Christian Churches and Their Peoples, 1840–
1965: A Social History of

Publishes articles published in Com-

Religion in

Canada, rev., 182–84
Gazzoli, Paul
rev. of Eric Knibbs, 113–15

Grendler, Paul F.
rev. of Federico Barbierato, 368–69
Gres-Gayer, Jacques Marie
obit., 202–03
Gribble, Richard, C.S.C.
rev. of William Issel, 586–88
Grig, Lucy
rev. of Therese Fuhrer, ed., 327–28

x

GENERAL INDEX

Gruber, Isaiah

Hofman, Rijcklof, ed.

Orthodox Russia in Crisis: Church and Nation
in the Time of

Troubles, rev., 565–66

Gulick, Peter, and Fanny Gulick

ad clerum Traiectensem de focaristis, rev.,
137–38

men., 393–95

Holscher, Kathleen

Haas, Lisbeth

Religious Lessons: Catholic Sisters and the

Pablo Tac, Indigenous Scholar : Writing on
Luiseño Language and Colonial History, c.
1840, rev., 181–82

men., 185–87

rev. of Patrick Mannix, 799–800
Haigh, Christopher
Hallauer, Hermann, and Erich Meuthen, eds.
Acta Cusana: Quellen zur Lebensgeschichte des
Nikolaus von Kues, Bd. I, Lfg. 1–Bd. II,
Lfg. 1, rev., 553–57

Cajetan: Zwei Protagonisten der päpstlichen
Gewaltenfülle, rev., 142–43
Hourihane, Colum, ed.
Insular and Anglo-Saxon Art and Thought
in the Early Medieval Period, rev.,

Hanbury-Tenison, William, trans.

541–42

Jin Luxian, Vol. 1: Learning

and Relearning 1916–1982, rev., 403–05
Hanna, Ralph

Hsia, Ronnie Po-Chia
rev. of Philip M. Soergel, 152–53
Hübsch, Bruno

rev. of Janet Burton and Karen Stöber,
eds., 344–46

Le Ministère des prêtres et des pasteurs: Histoire
d’une controverse entre catholiques et réformés
e

Harmon, Katharine E.

français au début du XVII siècle, rev.,

There Were Also Many Women There: Lay
Women in the Liturgical Movement in the
United States, 1926–59, rev., 585–86
Hayes, Patrick J.

793–95
Hudon, William V.
rev. of Marina Caffiero, 795–96
Hudson, John

rev. of Shawn Francis Peters, 588–89
Heidelberg Catechism

rev. of Massimo Vallerani, 773–74
Hughes, Sakina M.

Articles on published, 412

rev. of Tracy Neal Leavelle, 584–85

Heimann, Mary

Hunter, Ian

rev. of Henning Laugerud and Salvador
Ryan, eds., 571–72

rev. of Paul T. Phillips, 801–03
Hurlock, Kathryn

Helmholz, R. H.

Wales and the Crusades, c. 1095–1291, rev.,

rev. of Martin Bertram, 546–48
Henry of Livonia

118–19
Ignatius of Loyola, Saint

men., 119–20

men., 649–74

Henry, John

International Commission of Historical
Science in

Early Modern England, rev., 370–72
Hermanowicz, Erika T.
rev. of Horace E. Six-Means, 324–26
Herzig, Tamar
rev. of Anna Scattigno, 156–57
Heslop, T. A., Elizabeth Mellings, and Margit
Thøfner, eds.
Art, Faith and Place in East Anglia: From
Prehistory to the Present, rev., 318–19
Hildegard of Bingen, Saint
Pope Benedict XVI recognizes Hildegard
of Bingen as Doctor of the Church,
194–95
Hobbes, Thomas
Hobbes Studies publishes articles on Hobbes
and theology, 815

Horst, Ulrich
Juan de Torquemada und Thomas de Vio

rev. of Lowell Gallagher, ed., 363–64

Religion, Magic, and the Origin of

Captured Schools Crisis in New Mexico,
rev., 395–96
Holy Family, New Orleans Sisters of the

Hachey, Thomas E.

The Memoirs of

Gerardi Magni Opera Omnia, Pars II, I: Sermo

Sciences
Conference scheduled, 194
Irenaeus of Lyons, Saint
men., 105–06
Isidore of Seville, Archbishop and Saint
men., 331–32
Issel, William
Church and State in the City: Catholics and
Politics in Twentieth-Century San Francisco,
rev., 586–88
Iuris canonici medii aevi consociatio (ICMAC)
Sponsors three sessions at medieval
congress in Kalamazoo, 600
Izbicki, Thomas M.
rev. of Hermann Hallauer and Erich
Meuthen, eds., 553–57
rev. of Ulrich Horst, 142–43

xi

GENERAL INDEX

Jacobs, Andrew S.

Keeble, N. H.

Christ Circumcised. A Study in Early Christian
History and Difference, rev., 326–27
Jadatz, Heiko, and Christian Winter, eds.
Akten und Briefe zur Kirchenpolitik Herzog
Georgs von Sachsen, Dritter Band:
1528–1534, rev., 153–55
Jansen, Katherine L.
rev. of Ottó Gecser, 783–85
Jerome, Saint

men., 437–54
men., 403–05

eds., 153–55
Keith, Charles
Catholic Vietnam: A Church from Empire to

The Heart of

Russia: Trinity-Sergius,

797–99
Keogh, Dáire, and Albert McDonnell, eds.

Joan, Pope

Cardinal Paul Cullen and His World, rev., 168

219–38

Kerr, Julie

Johnson, Cuthbert, O.S.B., Abbot
rev. of Vincent Petit, 375–76
Johnson, Holly

The Cistercians in the Middle Ages, rev.,
121–22
Keul, István

The Grammar of

Good Friday: Macaronic

Late Medieval England, rev.,

552–53

The Community of

rev. of Maria Crăciun and Elaine Fulton,
eds., 144–46
Kidd, Peter

Jolly, Karen Louise

rev. of Virginia Reinburg, 320–21
St. Cuthbert in the Late

Tenth Century: The Chester-le-Street
Additions to Durham Cathedral Library
A.IV.19, rev., 335–36
Jordan, William Chester
rev. of John Friedman, 548–49
Ancient Christianity

Publishes issue on “Between Education
and Conversion,” 195
Journal of

rev. of Heiko Jadatz and Christian Winter,

Monasticism, and Society after 1825, rev.,

Jin, Luxian (Bishop Aloysius)

Journal of

rev. of Christoph Volkmar, 148–49

Kenworthy, Scott M.

Jiménez de Rada, Roderigo, Archbishop

Sermons of

Corns, eds., 162–63
Keen, Ralph

Nation, rev., 594–95

men., 536–37

men.,

rev. of Tony Claydon and Thomas N.

the British Archaeological Association

Publishes articles on “The Medieval
Chantry in England,” 197–98
KADOC-KU Leuven
Hosts colloquium on “University Parishes
and Student Churches in Europe,”
815
Workshop scheduled on Christian
democratic ideology, 44
Kagan, Richard L.
rev. of Joanne Rappaport and Tom
Cummins, 589–91
Kalvesmaki, Joel
rev. of Giuliano Chiapparini, 105–06
Karmann, Thomas R.
Meletius von Antiochien: Studien zur Geschichte
des trinitätstheologischen Streits in den Jahren
360–364 n. Chr., rev., 772–73
Karras, Ruth Mazo
Unmarriages: Women, Men, and Sexual Unions
in the Middle Ages, rev., 329–30
Kaufman, Peter Iver
rev. of Travis Curtright, 352–53

King, J. Christopher
rev. of Benjamin P. Blosser, 769–70
Kivelson, Valerie
rev. of Isaiah Gruber, 565–66
Knibbs, Eric
Ansgar, Rimbert and the Forged Foundations of
Hamburg-Bremen, rev., 113–15
Koller, Alexander, ed.
Nuntiaturberichte aus Deutschland nebst
ergänzenden Aktenstücken. Dritte
Abteilung, 1572–1585. 10. Band:
Nuntiaturen des Orazio Malaspina und des
Ottavio Santacroce. Interim des Cesare
dell’Arena (1578–1581), rev., 792–93
Kooi, Christine
rev. of Rob Faesen and Leo Kenis, eds.,
790–91
Koziol, Geoffrey
The Politics of

Memory and Identity in

Carolingian Royal Diplomas: The West
Frankish Kingdom (840–987), rev., 334–35
Kuefler, Mathew
rev. of Michel Parisse, 117–18
Kumler, Aden
Translating Truth: Ambitious Images and
Religious Knowledge in Late Medieval France
and England, rev., 128–31
Kupke, Raymond J.
rev. of Mary Jeremy Daigler, 805–07
rev. of Robert Emmett Curran, 180–81
Lackner, Joseph, S.M.
obit., 603

xii

GENERAL INDEX

Lang, Bernhard

Lipscomb, Oscar H., Archbishop

Meeting in Heaven: Modernising the Christian
Afterlife, 1600–2000, rev., 100–01
rev. of Gary Scott Smith, 581–82
Lapomarda, Vincent A., S.J.
The Catholic Bishops of
Persecutions of

Catholics and Jews, rev.,

578–79

America, rev., 808–09
López Lázaro, Fabio
rev. of Enrique García Hernán and María
del Pilar Ryan, 559–62

rev. of Matteo Luigi Napolitano, 169–70
Larkin, Brian R.

Lorenzini, Daniele
Jacques Maritain e i diritti umani: Fra

rev. of Frances L. Ramos, 591–92
Larkin, Emmet

totalitarismo, antisemitismo e democrazia
(1936–1951), rev., 385–86

obit., 199

Luebke, David M. et al., eds.

Larsen, Andrew E.

Conversion and the Politics of

Heretics: Academic Condemnation

at the University of

Oxford, 1277–1409,

rev., 549–50

Luxford, Julian M., and John McNeill, eds.
Lynch, Patrick, Bishop

Der Verband katholischer kaufmännischer
Vereinigungen Deutschlands 1877–1933,
rev., 381–82

men., 455–79
Madden, Thomas F.
rev. of Peter Frankopan, 544–45

Laugerud, Henning, and Salvador Ryan, eds.
Devotional Cultures of

European Christianity,

1790–1960, rev., 571–72

Mannix, Daniel, Archbishop
men., 799–800
Mannix, Patrick

Lavrin, Asunción

The Belligerent Prelate: An Alliance between

b.n. of Dino León Fernández, 597
rev. of Emilio Ricardo Báez Rivera,
398–99

Archbishop Daniel Mannix and Eamon de
Valera, rev., 799–800
Manuel, Paul Christopher

Leader, Anne

rev. of Jeffrey S. Bennett, 171–72
Florence. Art and Observance in a

Renaissance Monastery, rev., 143–44
Leamon, James S.

Margaret of Cortona, Saint
men., 785–86
Marie-Benoît, Père

The Reverend Jacob Bailey, Maine Loyalist: For

men., 800–01

God, King , Country, and for Self, rev.,

Marone, Giovanni

392–93

men., 558–59

Leavelle, Tracy Neal

Marshall, Peter

The Catholic Calumet: Colonial Conversions in
French and Indian North America, rev.,
584–85

rev. of G. R. Evans, 151–52
Maritain, Jacques
men., 262–97, 385–86, 703–26

Lelli, Fabrizio

Maritain, Raïssa

rev. of Johannes Pfefferkorn, 149–51
León Fernández, Dino
Canta. Siglos XVI y XVII, b.n., 597
Levy, Ian Christopher
the Middle Ages, rev., 551–52

Lewycky, Nadine, and Adam Morton, eds.
Getting Along? Religious Identities and
Confessional Relations in Early Modern
Professor

W. J. Sheils, rev., 364–66
Lindberg, Carter
rev. of Christian T. Collins Winn et al.,
eds., 582–83

The Spanish Bishops and Nazism during
the Spanish Civil War, 499–530
Maryks, Robert Aleksander

Holy Scripture and the Quest for Authority at

England—Essays in Honour of

men., 262–97
Martínez Sánchez, Santiago

Evangelización y control social a la doctrina de

the End of

Religion in Early

Modern Germany, rev., 358–60
The Medieval Chantry in England, rev., 540–41

Laufen, Veronika

The Badia of

The Church-State Debate. Religion, Education
and the Establishment Clause in Post-War

Europe and the Nazi

Letter to the Editor, 817–18

The School of

rev. of Andrew H. M. Stern, 807–08
Long, Emma

The Jesuit Order as a Synagogue of
of

Jews: Jesuits

Jewish Ancestry and Purity-of-Blood Laws

in the Early Society of

Jesus, rev., 355–56

Massa, Mark, S.J.
rev. of Kenneth L. Parker and Erick H.
Moser, eds., 531–32
Matovina, Timothy
Latino Catholicism: Transformation in America’s
Largest Church, rev., 390–92
Receives Foik Award, 602

xiii

GENERAL INDEX

Mavroudi, Maria

Moore, Michael Edward

rev. of Efthymios Nicolaidis, 96–99
Mazzone, Umberto

Frankish Kingship, 300–850, rev., 107–09

rev. of Marco Agostini and Giovanna
Baldissin Molli, eds., 353–54
McCluskey, Raymond
rev. of Tom McInally, 360–61

The War on Heresy, rev., 336–38
rev. of Karen Melvin, 184–85
More, Thomas, Saint

rev. of Fernanda Alfieri and Claudio
Ferlan, eds., 356–57

men., 352–53, 816
Morrissey, Thomas E.

McDougall, Sara

rev. of Christopher M. Bellitto and David

Bigamy and Christian Identity in Late Medieval
Champagne, rev., 351–52
McInally, Tom

Zachariah Flanagin, eds., 786–88
rev. of Marek Wejwoda, 140–41
rev. of Thomas Frank and Norbert

The Sixth Scottish University. The Scots Colleges
Abroad: 1575 to 1799, rev., 360–61
McKelvie, Roberta A., O.S.F.
rev. of Colmán Ó Clabaigh, O.S.B., 766–67
McQuaid, John Charles

Winkler, eds., 322–24
Mueller, Joan
rev. of Bert Roest, 778–80
Muessig, Carolyn, George Ferzoco, and
Beverly Mayne Kienzle, eds.

men., 579–81

A Companion to Catherine of

Meconi, David Vincent, S.J.
rev. of Alfons Fürst, 536–37
Meeks, Wayne A.

Siena, rev.,

135–37
Mungello, D. E.
rev. of Ernest P. Young, 811–12

rev. of Helen Rhee, 534–36
Meletius of Antioch

Murdock, Graeme
rev. of Paul Shore, 568–69

men., 772–73

Murphy, James H.

Melvin, Karen

obit. of Emmet Larkin, 199–201
God. Mendicant

Orders and Urban Culture in New Spain,
rev., 184–85
Mercier, Alain
La deuxième fille de Cluny: Grandeurs et misères
de Saint-Martin-des-Champs, rev., 533–34
Michelson, Emily
rev. of Giorgio Caravale, 791–92
Miller, David W.
rev. of Dáire Keogh and Albert
McDonnell, eds., 168
Minnich, Nelson H.
Trent: What Happened at the Council, Forum
Essay, 749–55
Minois, Georges
The Atheist’s Bible. The Most Dangerous Book
That Never Existed, rev., 767–68
Mirk, John
men., 347–49
Mitchell, Maria D.
rev. of Urs Altermatt, 574–75
Monson, Paul G.
rev. of Kai Reinhold; and of Kai
Reinhold and Matthias Sellmann, eds.,
102–03
Moore, Brenna
Philosemitism under a Darkening Sky:
Judaism in the French Catholic Revival
(1900–45), 262–97

Moore, R. I.
Morales, Francisco, O.F.M.

McCoog, Thomas M., S.J.

Building Colonial Cities of

A Sacred Kingdom: Bishops and the Rise of

Murry, Gregory
“Tears of the Indians” or Superficial
Conversion?: José de Acosta, the Black
Legend, and Spanish Evangelization in
the New World, 29–51
Myscofski, Carole
rev. of Mariza de Carvalho Soares, 399–400
Nacimiento, Cecilia del
Journeys of

a Mystic Soul in Poetry and Prose,

rev., 361–63
Napolitano, Matteo Luigi
The Vatican Files: La diplomazia della Chiesa.
Documenti e segreti, rev., 169–70
National Endowment for the Humanities
Awards grants for translation projects, 814
Early-modern institute scheduled, 193
Newberry Library
“Early Modern Religions” conference
scheduled, 192
Fellowship application deadlines, 814
Summer institutes on Spanish and French
paleography, 192
New College Conference on Medieval and
Renaissance Studies
Nineteenth conference scheduled, 599
Newman, John Henry, Blessed Cardinal
Digitization of manuscripts underway, 598
Nicholas of Cusa
men., 192, 322–24, 553–57

xiv

GENERAL INDEX

Nicolaidis, Efthymios

Parisse, Michel

Science and Eastern Orthodoxy: From the Greek
Fathers to the Age of

Globalization, rev.,

Why Pope Joan?, 219–38

The Rise of

Historical Consciousness among the

Christian Churches, rev., 531–32
Parsons, Gerald

Noyes, Ruth S.
Aut numquid post annos mille quingentos
docenda est Ecclesia Catholica quomodo sacrae
imagines pingantur?: Post–Tridentine
Image Reform and the Myth of
Gabriele Paleotti, 239–61
Nwaka, Jacinta Chiamaka
The Catholic Church, the Nigerian Civil
War, and the Beginning of Organized
Lay Apostolate Groups among the
Igbos of Southeastern Nigeria,

rev. of Carolyn Muessig, George Ferzoco,
and Beverly Mayne Kienzle, eds., 135–37
Pattenden, Miles
rev. of Adam Patrick Robinson, 558–59
Pázmány Péter Catholic University
Cosponsors international workshop on
“The Papacy and the Local Churches,”
602
Pennington, Kenneth
rev. of Robert Somerville, 338–39
Perreau–Saussine, Emile

78–95
Nyberg, Tore

Catholicism and Democracy: An Essay in the

rev. of James G. Clark, 539–40

History of

Political Thought, rev., 166–68

Peters, Shawn Francis

Oakley, Francis
the Past. Reshaping the Ancient

Political Inheritance, rev., 339–40
O’Banion, Patrick J.
The Sacrament of

Penance and Religious Life in

Golden Age Spain, rev., 567–68
Ó Clabaigh, Colmán, O.S.B.
The Friars in Ireland 1224–1540, rev.,
766–67
O’Connell, Marvin R.
Receives ACHA Distinguished Scholar
Award, 407
Olsen, Glenn W.
rev. of Georges Minois, 767–68
O’Malley, John W., S.J.
Trent: What Happened at the Council,
Forum Essay, 763–64
O’Neil, Stephen
rev. of Lisbeth Haas, 181–82
Orbe, Antonio, S.J.
Articles on Orbe published, 600
Origen
men., 536–37, 769–70
Osborn, Sarah
men., 804–05
Ostkirchliche Studien
Publishes articles on Armenian
Christianity, 815
O’Sullivan, Tomás
rev. of Colum Hourihane, ed., 541–42
Paget, James Carleton
rev. of Andrew S. Jacobs, 326–27
Palafox y Mendoza, Don Juan de
Articles on published, 412–13
Paleotti, Gabriele, Cardinal
men., 239–61

e

siècle, rev., 117–18
Parker, Kenneth L., and Erick H. Moser, eds.

96–99
Noble, Thomas F. X.

The Mortgage of

e

Religieux et religieuses en Empire du X au XII

The Catonsville Nine: A Story of

Faith and

Resistance in the Vietnam Era, rev., 588–89
Petit, Vincent
Catholiques et Comtois: Liturgie diocésaine et
e

identité régionale au XIX siècle, rev.,
375–76
Pfefferkorn, Johannes
The Jews’ Mirror (Der Juden Spiegel), rev.,
149–51
Phan, Peter C.
rev. of Charles Keith, 594–95
Phillips, Paul T.
Contesting the Moral High Ground: Popular
Moralists in Mid-Twentieth Century Britain,
rev., 801–03
Pierce, Jerry B.
Poverty, Heresy, and the Apocalypse: The Order
of

the Apostles and Social Change in

Medieval Italy, 1260–1307, rev., 125–26
Pink, Stephen
rev. of Ian Christopher Levy, 551–52
Pius XI, Pope
men., 172–74, 499–530
Pius XII, Pope
biog., 379–81
men., 575–77
Plummer, Marjorie Elizabeth
From Priest’s Whore to Pastor’s Wife: Clerical
Marriage and the Process of

Reform in the

Early German Reformation, rev., 562–64
Poels, Vefie, Theo Salemink, and Hans de
Valk, eds.
Life with a Mission: Cardinal Willem Marinus
van Rossum C.Ss.R. (1854–1932), rev.,
376–77

xv

GENERAL INDEX

Pollard, John

Reilly, Bernard F.

rev. of Vefie Poels, Theo Salemink, and
Hans de Valk, eds., 376–77

and the Accession of Rodrigo Jiménez

Poncet, Olivier

de Rada as the Archbishop of Toledo

La France et le Pouvoir Pontifical (1595–1661).
L’Esprit des Institutions, rev., 158–59
Poole, Stafford, C.M.
letters, 602

rev. of Orietta Filippini, 569–70

men., 124–25, 198, 778–80

Reinhold, Kai

Porter, Laura

Die katholischen Pfarrgemeinden in den USA in

rev. of Catherine A. Brekus, 804–05
Poska, Allyson M.
Powell, Susan, ed.
MS Cotton Claudius A.II, rev., 347–49
Prévotat, Jacques

USA und in Deutschland: Überraschende
Ergebnisse einer ländervergleichenden
Umfrage, rev., 102–03

Pie XI et la France: L’apport des archives du pontificat de Pie XI à la connaissance des rapports
entre le Saint-Siège et la France, rev., 172–74
Putney, Clifford

Resnick, Irven M.
Marks of

Distinction: Christian Perceptions of

Jews in the High Middle Ages, rev., 782–83
Rex, Richard

Peter and

Fanny Gulick, 1797–1883, rev., 393–95
Questier, Michael
rev. of Nadine Lewycky and Adam
Morton, eds., 364–66
Questions Liturgiques—Studies in Liturgy
Publishes articles on liturgical reform, 601
Quispe-Agnoli, Rocío
rev. of Mónica Díaz, 401–02
Radde-Gallwitz, Andrew
rev. of Robert E. Winn, 109–10
Radding, Charles M.
rev. of Ronald G. Witt, 781–82
Rafferty, Oliver P., S.J.
rev. of Clara Cullen and Margaret Ó
hÓgartaigh, eds., 579–81
Ramos, Frances L.
Identity, Ritual, and Power in Colonial Puebla,
rev., 591–92
Rapp, Claudia
rev. of Anne P. Alwis, 112–13
Rappaport, Joanne and Tom Cummins
Beyond the Lettered City: Indigenous Literacies in
the Andes, rev., 589–91
Reames, Sherry
rev. of Susan Powell, ed., 347–49
Rebillard, Éric
Christians and Their Many Identities in Late
Antiquity, North Africa, 200–450 CE,

Dissertation Award, 406–07

Reinhold, Kai, and Matthias Sellmann, eds.
Katholische Kirche und Gemeindeleben in den

John Mirk’s Festial Edited from British Library

Receives ACHA John Tracy Ellis

Geschichte und Gegenwart: Eine transatlantische Perspektive, rev., 102–03

rev. of Patrick J. O’Banion, 567–68

rev., 770–72

Hours: Making an Archive of

Prayer, c. 1400–1600, rev., 320–21
Reinhardt, Volker

Poor Clares, order

Reed, Benjamin D.

in 1210, 437–54
Reinburg, Virginia
French Books of

Receives honorary doctorate of humane

Missionaries in Hawai’i: The Lives of

Alfonso VIII, the Castilian Episcopate,

rev. of G. W. Bernard, 349–50
Reynolds, Brian K.
Gateway to Heaven: Marian Doctrine and
Devotion, Image and Typology in the Patristic
and Medieval Periods, Vol. 1: Doctrine and
Devotion, rev., 333–34
Reynolds, Philip L.
rev. of Ruth Mazo Karras, 329–30
Rhee, Helen
Loving the Poor, Saving the Rich: Wealth,
Poverty, and Early Christian Formation, rev.,
534–36
Ricerca sull’Inchiesta della congregazione
dell’Indice
men., 191
Rimbert, Saint
men., 115–17
Rivera, Emilio Ricardo Báez
Las palabras del silencio de Santa Rosa de
Lima o la poesía visual del Inefable, rev.,
398–99
Robinson, Adam Patrick
The Career of

Cardinal Giovanni Morone

(1509–1580): Between Council and
Inquisition, rev., 558–59
Robson, Michael
rev. of Augustine Thompson, O.P.,
122–23
rev. of Neslihan Senocak, 343–44
Rodén, Marie-Louise
rev. of Olivier Poncet, 158–59
Roeber, A. G.
rev. of Laura M. Chmielewski, 177–78

xvi

GENERAL INDEX

Roest, Bert

Sheingorn, Pamela

Order and Disorder : The Poor Clares between
Foundation and Reform, rev., 778–80
Roffey, Simon

rev. of Brian K. Reynolds, 333–34

rev. of Julian M. Luxford and John
McNeill, eds., 540–41

Sistine Chapel

Paradise: Marian Devotion and

Secular Song in Medieval and Renaissance
Music, rev., 99–100

Catholicization of

Francisco de Bor ja y su tiempo: Política, religión y
cultura en la Edad Moderna, rev., 559–62
Ryan, Michael A.
Authority in the Late Medieval Crown of
Aragon, rev., 134–35

Modern Introspective Subjectivity,

rev. of Michael A. Ryan, 134–35

649–74

Sánchez, José M.

Smith, Gary Scott

rev. of Frank J. Coppa, 575–77

Heaven in the American Imagination, rev.,

rev. of Robert A. Ventresca, 379–81
Sandberg, Brian
rev. of Bruno Hübsch, 793–95

People of

rev. of Aden Kumler, 128–31

399–400
Sociétè canadienne d’histoire de l’eglise

rev. of Anders Winroth, 115–16

catholique

Scattigno, Anna

Schedules congress, 598

Sposa di Cristo: Mistica e comunità nei Ratti di
Caterina de’Ricci. Con il testo inedito del
XVI secolo, rev., 156–57

men., 194, 355–56, 568–69, 600, 675–702,
Soen, Violet

Receives Howard R. Marraro Prize, 406
Trans. of Jane K. Wickersham rev., 788–90
Scottish Catholic Archives

Trent: What Happened at the Council,
Forum Essay, 759–60
Soergel, Philip M.

men., 189

Miracles and the Protestant Imagination: The

Second Vatican Council

Evangelical Wonder Book in Reformation

men., 199, 388–89, 414, 602, 727–48,
803–04

Germany, rev., 152–53
Somerville, Robert

Senocak, Neslihan

Pope Urban II’s Council of
Learning

in the Franciscan Order 1209–1310, rev.,

rev. of Annibale Fantoli, 366–67

Society of Jesus
790–91

Schutte, Anne Jacobson

Shea, William R.

Faith: Slavery and African Catholics

in Eighteenth-Century Rio de Janeiro, rev.,

Sanmark, Alexandra

rev. of Jill K. Gill, 396–98

581–82
Soares, Mariza de Carvalho

Sandler, Lucy Freeman

Exhibition, 598

rev. of Richard Butterwick, 165–66

Exercises and Their Contribution to

Samsó, Julio

Settje, David E.

Skinner, Barbara

St. Ignatius of Loyola’s Spiritual

men., 533–34

Serra, Fray Junipero, Blessed

Sixteenth Century Society and Conference

Sluhovsky, Moshe

Saint-Martin-des-Champs, priory

343–44

Roman Africa, 391–408,

rev., 324–26
Annual meeting scheduled, 193

Stargazers: Astrology and

The Poor and the Perfect: The Rise of

Quincentenary of fresco, 191
Six-Means, Horace E.
Augustine and Catholic Christianization: The

Ryan, María del Pilar

men., 364–66

the Habsburg Realms

(1640–1773), rev., 568–69

Rothenberg, David J.

Sheils, W. J.

Adversity: Jesuits on the Eastern

Peripheries of

men., 398–99

A Kingdom of

Shore, Paul
Narratives of

Rose of Lima, Saint

The Flower of

rev. of Anne Marie Velu, 330–31
Shoemaker, Stephen J.

Piacenza: March

1–7, 1095, rev., 338–39
Sparks, Margaret
rev. of Joan Greatrex, 126–27
Spicer, Kevin P., C.S.C.
Letter to the Editor, 818–19
rev. of Vincent A. Lapomarda, S.J.,
578–79
Spruit, Leen
rev. of John Henry, 370–72
Steel, Matthew
rev. of David J. Rothenberg, 99–100

xvii

GENERAL INDEX

Stern, Andrew H. M.

Tifft, Timothy W.

Southern Crucifix, Southern Cross: CatholicProtestant Relations in the Old South, rev.,
807–08
Defenders and Enemies of

the True

Cross: The

Sasanian Conquest of

Jerusalem

in 614

and the Byzantine Ideology of

Anti-Persian

Warfare, b.n., 188
Popes and Antipopes: The Politics of

Economic Origins of
596

Roman Christianity, b.n.,

Torquemada, Juan de
men., 142–43

Trabbic, Joseph G.

Stroll, Mary
Eleventh

Century Church Reform, rev., 542–44
Studia Liturgica
Publishes articles on baptism, 600–01
Studiosi dell’Antichità Cristiana, XLII
Incontro di
Sponsors conference on poverty and
wealth in ancient Christianity, 815
Swanson, R. N.
rev. of Michael Burger, 780–81
Szpiech, Ryan
Conversion and Narrative: Reading and Religious
Authority in Medieval Polemic, rev., 775–77
Tac, Pablo

rev. of Daniele Lorenzini, 385–86

Trisco, Robert

obit. of Timothy W. Tifft, 202
Report of the Editor, 408–10

Turrell, James F.

rev. of Brian Cummings, ed., 155–56

Underwood, Lucy

rev. of Geoff Baker, 369–70

Université de Lille

Schedules conference “La Dramatique
Conciliare,” 192–93

Urban II, Pope

men., 338–39

Urban, William

rev. of Marek Tamm, Linda Kaljundi, and
Carsten Selch Jensen, eds., 119–20

men., 181–82
Tamm, Marek, Linda Kaljundi, and Carsten
Selch Jensen, eds.
Crusading and Chronicle Writing on the Medieval
Baltic Frontier : A Companion to the Chronicle
Henry of

rev. of André Vauchez, 342–43

Tollison, Robert D.

Stoyanov, Yuri

of

obit., 202

Tolan, John

Livonia, rev., 119–20

Tanner, Norman, S.J.
rev. of Massimo Faggioli, 388–89
Tate, Adam
Catholics and Southern Honor: Rev.
Patrick Lynch’s Paper War with Rev.
James Henley Thornwell, 455–79
Tentler, Leslie Woodcock
rev. of R. Scott Appleby and Kathleen
Sprows Cummings, eds., 809–11
Teresa of Jesus of Ávila, Saint
Congress on scheduled, 600
Terian, Abraham
rev. of Isabelle Augé, 777–78
Teske, Roland J., S.J.
rev. of Mark Vessey with Shelley Reid,
eds., 110–12
Texas Catholic Historical Society
Schedules 2014 annual meeting, 599
Thomas, Werner
rev. of Luc Duerloo, 159–61
Thompson, Augustine, O.P.
Francis of Assisi: A New Biography, rev., 122–23
Thornwell, James Henley
men., 455–79
Tierney, Brian
rev. of Francis Oakley, 339–40

rev. of Mikolaj Gladysz, 545–46

U.S. Catholic Historian

Publishes articles on the American Civil
War, 816

Publishes articles on religious music, 602
Publishes articles on Second Vatican
Council, 199, 414

Valentinianism

men., 105–06

Vallerani, Massimo

Medieval Public Justice, rev., 773–74

Van Liere, Katherine, Simon Ditchfield, and
Howard Louthan, eds.

Sacred History. Uses of

the Past in the

Renaissance World, rev., 146–48, 557–58

Van Rossum, Willem Marinus, C.Ss.R.
biog., 376–77

Vassallo, Clare

rev. of Dennis A. Castillo, 387–88

Vatican Library

First digitized manuscripts available, 410

Vauchez, André
Francis of

Assisi: The Life and Afterlife of

Medieval Saint, rev., 342–43

a

Velu, Anne Marie

La Visitation dans l’art: Orient et Occident,
e

e

V –XVI siècle, rev., 330–31

Venarde, Bruce L., ed.
The Rule of

Saint Benedict, rev., 116–17

Ventresca, Robert A.
Soldier of

Christ: The Life of

rev., 379–81

Pope Pius XII,

Vessey, Mark, with Shelley Reid, eds.

A Companion to Augustine, rev., 110–12

xviii

GENERAL INDEX

Vincent, Nicholas

rev. of Irven M. Resnick, 782–83

Vivens Homo
Papers on “L’acqua e il corpo” published,
195
Vives del Solar, Fernando, S.J.
men., 703–26
Reform statt Reformation: Die Kirchenpolitik
Herzog Georgs von Sachsen, 1488–1525,
rev., 148–49
rev. of Ryan Szpiech, 775–77
Ward, Mary
Articles on Ward published, 198
War on Poverty

Wilson, Christie Sample
Beyond Belief: Surviving the Revocation of
Edict of

the

Nantes in France, rev., 163–64

The Pietist Impulse in Christianity, rev., 582–83
Winn, Robert E.
Eusebius of

Emesa: Church & Theology in the

Mid-Fourth Century, rev., 109–10
The Conversion of

Warthmann, Stefan
Die Katholische Tübinger Schule: Zur Geschichte
ihrer Wahrnehmung, rev., 373–74
Weaver, Andrew H.
Sacred Music as Public Image for Holy Roman
Emperor Ferdinand III: Representing the
Counter-Reformation Monarch at the End of
the Thirty Years’ War, rev., 796–97
Weber, Francis J. Monsignor
Receives Norman Forgue Award, 816
Wejwoda, Marek
Spätmittelalterliche Jurisprudenz zwischen
Rechtspraxis, Universität und kirchliche
Karriere: Der Leipziger Jurist und
Dietrich von Bocksdorf

(ca. 1410–1466), rev., 140–41
Wenzel, Siegfried
rev. of Vincent Gillespie and Kantik
Ghosh, eds., 138–39
White, Owen, and J. P. Daughton, eds.
In God’s Empire: French Missionaries and the
Modern World, rev., 383–85
Wickersham, Jane K.
Prosecution: The Roman Inquisition
Philo-Protestants in

Sixteenth-Century Italy, rev., 788–90
Wicks, Jared, S.J.
Light from Germany on Vatican Council
II, 727–48
rev. of Yves Congar, O.P., 175–77
Widmer, Paul, ed.
Europe in China—China in Europe: Mission
as a Vehicle to Intercultural Dialogue, rev.,
592–93
Wiesner-Hanks, Merry
rev. of Marjorie Elizabeth Plummer,
562–64

How to Defeat the Saracens, rev., 131–32
Williams, Ronald, Jr.

Winroth, Anders

men., 298–317

and the Prosecution of

403–05
William of Adam

Winn, Christian T. Collins et al., eds.

Vose, Robin

Rituals of

rev. of William Hanbury-Tenison, trans.,

rev. of Clifford Putney, 393–95

Volkmar, Christoph

Naumburger Bischof

Wiest, Jean-Paul

Scandinavia: Vikings,

Merchants, and Missionaries in the Remaking
of

Northern Europe, rev., 115–16

Witt, Ronald G.
The Two Latin Cultures and the Foundation of
Renaissance Humanism in Medieval Italy,
rev., 781–82
Wolfram, Herwig
rev. of Geoffrey Koziol, 334–35
Wood, Jamie
The Politics of

Identity in Visigothic Spain:

Religion and Power in the Histories of
of

Isidore

Seville, rev., 331–32

Wortley, John
The Book of

the Elders: Sayings of

the Desert

Fathers. The Systematic Collection, rev.,
537–38
Wynne, John J., S.J.
men., 189–91
Wyss, Hilary E.
English Letters and Indian Literacies: Reading ,
Writing , and New England Missionary
Schools, 1750–1830, rev., 178–80
Yonke, Eric
rev. of Rebecca Ayako Bennette, 378–79
Young, Ernest P.
Ecclesiastical Colony: China’s Catholic Church
and the French Religious Protectorate, rev.,
811–12
Young, Robin Darling
rev. of François Dolbeau, 765–66
Zachhuber, Johannes
rev. of Thomas R. Karmann, 772–73
Zanca, Kenneth J.
rev. of Susan Zuccotti, 800–01
Zuccotti, Susan
Père Marie-Benoît and Jewish Rescue: How a
French Priest Together with Jewish Friends
Saved Thousands during the Holocaust, rev.,
800–01

Margaret Lavinia Anderson
Professor emerita of history, University of California–Berkeley
2013
Photograph by Sylvia Yu Sheehan

The Catholic Historical
Review
VOL. XCIX

OCTOBER, 2013

No. 4

CONFESSIONS OF A FELLOW TRAVELER
BY

MARGARET LAVINIA ANDERSON*
Margaret Anderson considers the interaction between scholarship and life, and the interventions of

mentors and friends, in her continuing education as a teacher and scholar of

European and Catholic history.
Keywords:

anti-Catholicism;

antisemitism;

Kulturkampf;

Leo

XIII,

Pope;

Windthorst, Ludwig

The Accident of Choice

My husband is fond quoting a line he attributes to Kierkegaard: “Life can
only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”
Alas, that bon mot turns out to have originated not with the distinguished
Danish theologian, but with the much-married Artie Shaw, one of the kings
of swing.

1

Whatever its source, the insight describes a career whose central

preoccupations, as I lived them, seemed to have come by chance, but which—
Looking Backward—appear embarrassingly predictable. These preoccupations—the Catholic struggle for respect and religious freedom in the German
empire; its impact on the party system and thus on the course of German history; controversies over “clericalism” in politics and the limits of pluralism;

*Dr. Anderson is professor emerita of history at the University of California–Berkeley, email:
mlavinia@berkeley.edu. The author would like to dedicate this essay to Ruth and Josef Becker,
Augsburg historians, with love and gratitude for the gift of their friendship.
1

Kierkegaard’s own dictum was: “It is quite true what philosophy says; that life must be

understood backwards. But then one forgets the other principle: that it must be lived forwards.
… [T]emporal life can never properly be understood precisely because I can at no instant find
complete rest in which to adopt a position: backwards.” Papers and Journals, trans. Alastair Hannay
(New York, 1996), pp. 63, 161.

623

624

CONFESSIONS OF A FELLOW TRAVELER

the “secularization” narrative; the paradoxical relationship between ultramontanism and democracy—all have to do, in one way or another, with
Religion and/or its “Cultured Despisers.” And all of these themes followed,
ultimately, from my dissertation: a biography of Ludwig Windthorst.
Yet I did not choose that topic myself. When I applied to graduate school
in 1963, I had designated German history as my field because I wanted to find
the answer to the Shoah: that is, how a civilized country—in our century!—
could have committed such horrors. In those days and even through the 1970s,
historians gripped by the Shoah rarely studied death camps or Einsatztruppen.
They often didn’t study the Third Reich at all. We sought the “deeper” causes
that might have encouraged or enabled it. My own topic, when I went off to
Germany in fall 1966 to begin research, was Weimar’s Left intellectuals, and my
working hypothesis was that their relentless criticism of the Republic unintentionally “paved the way” for the Nazis who would imprison them.
But almost as soon as I got off

the boat, I learned that a book had just

appeared on that subject, and another was in the pipeline. No room for me. But
my adviser, Klaus Epstein, who was also in Germany that year and broke the
bad news, happened to be dining that evening with the historian Rudolf Morsey.
Morsey was prominent for two important works on the (Catholic) Center Party,
one on its central role in the founding of the Weimar Republic, another on its
craven collapse at the end. Epstein himself

had recently published a highly

regarded biography of Matthias Erzberger, who had burst on the German political scene in 1903 as the youngest member of the Center’s Reichstag delegation
and caused an uproar by exposing, through missionary reports, the destruction
of the Herero in German Southwest Africa. By 1914 the most powerful man in
the Reichstag, Erzberger had the thankless task of “negotiating” the armistice in
November 1918, for which he was assassinated in 1921.
While I sat in my flat worrying about how I could ever make the “original
contribution” requisite for entry into our profession, Epstein and Morsey
decided that I could do worse than a study of the Center’s first leader, during
the

Kulturkampf

of

the

1870s

and

1880s:

Ludwig

Windthorst.

True,

Windthorst had burned his personal papers. Therefore, Morsey warned when
we met the next day, the dissertation could never be a real biography. I should
subtitle it, he said, “A Contribution to

”), the blank to be filled in with

whatever I found. (He gave me a leg up by handing me two articles of his own
that demolished existing scholarship on the Kulturkampf. They have stood
2

before my mind’s eye as a kind of memento mori ever since. ) Epstein, charac-

2

Rudolf

Morsey, “Bismarck und der Kulturkampf,” Archiv für Kulturgeschichte, 39 (1957),

232–70; idem, “Probleme der Kulturkampf-Forschung,” Historisches Jahrbuch, 83 (1963), 217–45.

625

BY MARGARET LAVINIA ANDERSON

teristically more sanguine, promised that I would have printed contemporary
sources aplenty—and all those parliamentary debates! Let’s not make a fetish
of archives!
Thus the inauspicious beginning of my own “Journey in Church History.”
Yet as I write these reflections, it occurs to me that my only substantial papers
in graduate school—one on “Lord Acton and Moral Judgments in History,”
the other on the controversy over Madame Guyon and the struggle between
her defender, Abbé Fénelon, and his nemesis, Bishop Bossuet—also had to
do with “religion.” Even my current research on the Armenian genocide,
almost half a century later, is connected through the red thread of religion,
for although the terrain is new, I entered it via missionaries and the stereotypes employed against them. An outsider might see a pattern here.

The Pope and I
When my revised dissertation was published, in 1981, I was surprised to
find that most readers, especially in Germany, assumed I was Catholic—less
from what I wrote than from the fact that I chose such a topic at all. German
academia in the 1960s and 1970s was still highly confessionalized. Entries in
most encyclopedias and biographical lexicons routinely included the identifying abbreviations, ev., kath., or hebr., after each person’s name. Matters touching

on

the

churches,

moreover,

were

usually

the

bailiwick

of

“Church

History,” a separate discipline housed in the respective seminaries or theology
faculties of the two confessions, whose publications were rarely read by the
rest of our guild. But I was reared an Episcopalian, with inherited prejudices
about “Romans” of the sort that Sigmund Freud attributed to the “narcissism
of small differences.” And when I began the dissertation, I was in the midst
of a brief, unsuccessful attempt to be an atheist.
The Catholic Church’s response to National Socialism had recently begun
to exercise historians and the public at large. Two works by Gordon Zahn, as
well as Guenter Lewy’s The Catholic Church and Nazi Germany (New York,
1964), presented a dismaying picture of the Church in Germany and Austria,
while Rolf

Hochhuth’s controversial play The Deputy (1963) had brought
3

media attention to the “silence” of Pius XII.

Epstein had weighed in with a

long, critical review of Lewy and Hochhuth. While stating that their accounts
were “essentially right,” he held that historians must not only describe, but
also explain; in this case, “why able and honorable men acted, however mistakenly, as they did in circumstances of unparalleled difficulty.” I thought his

3

Gordon Zahn, German Catholics and Hitler’s War : A Study in Social Control (New York, 1962);

idem, In Solitary Witness: The Life and Death of

Franz Jägerstätter (New York, 1964).

626

CONFESSIONS OF A FELLOW TRAVELER

piece apologetic, and we argued, at length. In fact, Epstein had far more cause
for indignation than I. His grandfather and father were Jewish, although his
father had been baptized into the Lutheran church as an infant, as had he.
That was still “Jewish” enough to bar Epstein père from a university career in
1933, when Klaus was six, and his parents scrambled to emigrate. The grandfather, dismissed from his chair in mathematics, would not go. Required to
report to the Gestapo in 1939, he committed suicide.
Today I find it difficult to see why I had been so outraged, for Epstein’s
own explanation for the Church’s sins of commission and omission consti4

tuted a devastating indictment.

But the designation “honorable men” stuck

in my craw, as did his appeal for “charity” in discussing these matters. “Are
you one of

those people who eat Catholics for breakfast?” he inquired

politely. When I muttered something about people silly enough to believe the
pope was infallible, he countered: “Can you be sure that he isn’t?” I could. Yet
I hadn’t hesitated, a year later, when he and Morsey had come up with
Windthorst as my dissertation topic. Fine! I had thought; I can expose the
long-term role of the Church in the German catastrophe.

Windthorst and Leo XIII
To my surprise, I found in Windthorst the heroism that I had wanted from
German Catholics in the 1930s and 1940s. Leading the fight against the
Kulturkampf and drawing on reports from German priests driven by Otto
von Bismarck into American exile, Windthorst advocated the separation of
church

and

state.

Discovering

that

his

Center

Party

did

well

under

the

German empire’s new democratic franchise, he pushed for the same suffrage
for Germany’s member states. He denounced the annexation of

Alsace-

Lorraine, stood up for the civil rights of Hanoverian legitimists (Protestants
to a man), and defended Germany’s other national minorities against harassment. For this, he and his party were branded “enemies of
(Reichsfeinde).

Windthorst

worked

to

free

rabbis

from

the empire”

military

service,

demanded constitutional protection for kosher butchers against the attacks of
anti-vivisectionists and antisemites, and threatened to resign if his party supported the antisemitic side in a debate on the Jewish “question.” In 1886 he
sponsored a motion to censure Bismarck’s government for expelling almost
overnight—on “national” (that is, ethnic) grounds—30,000 Poles and Jews, a
“revolting” measure that he compared to the American campaign to “exter-

4

Although it deplored Hochhuth’s “tactlessness” in making “a much revered and recently

deceased Pope the villain of a stage drama,” the essay offered no comfort to apologists and paragraph after paragraph that must have caused ears to burn. Klaus Epstein, “The Pope, the Church,
and the Nazis,” Modern Age, 9 (1964–65), 83–94.

627

BY MARGARET LAVINIA ANDERSON

minate” the Indians. He pleaded with the Holy See to protest the expulsions—and met with silence from the pope.

On principle, Windthorst and his party condemned all bills that criminalized categories of

persons or groups, rather than deeds (Ausnahmegesetzte).

The laws banishing the Jesuits and religious were examples. But Leo XIII,
expecting handsome rewards if he could deliver the Center’s Reichstag votes
to Bismarck, ordered the party to pass the chancellor’s Anti-Socialist Law,
obviously an Ausnahmegesetz, as well as his seven-year military budget, which
5

effectively withdrew the army from parliamentary oversight.

Windthorst

refused. The pontiff made no secret of his displeasure, causing the Center
enormous public embarrassment. Leo deliberately kept Windthorst uninformed while he negotiated a peace with Bismarck that left out not only the
Jesuits, but also the three million Poles in Prussia’s eastern dioceses. Thanks
to the recently discovered correspondence of a priest who acted as mediary
between the Center leader and the curia, and to the magnificent edition of
Vatican documents just published by Rudolf Lill, by the time I began revising my dissertation, I was able to follow the conflict between pontiff
6

politician “up close and personal.”

and

The ultimate explanation for the Church’s

failures during the Nazi period had been, in Epstein’s words, that it “felt too
little responsibility for the maintenance of

general civilized political condi-

tions in Germany, provided that its organizations were allowed to survive.” It
was

precisely

on

behalf

of

such

“civilized

political

conditions”

that

Windthorst took his stand; the Church could not prosper by making sidedeals with bullies, but could flourish only under the rule of law. I have not
changed my view of Leo’s German diplomacy, but I suspect that it was Pius
XII as much as Leo XIII who had been in my sights.

The Present in the Past: The Sixties

Present-mindedness was a term of
mark

of

an

unprofessional

opprobrium among our mentors, the

historian.

But

today

I

see

wisdom

in

Ernst

Troeltsch’s observation about its inevitability—and utility:
The present continually hovers before the backward-looking glance, because it is
by the aid of analogies drawn from the life of to-day—however little this may be

5

I was not the first to treat Leo’s diplomatic reputation skeptically. James E. Ward had already

done so, although his assessment was more positive than mine. See Ward, “Leo XIII and
Bismarck: The Kaiser’s Vatican Visit of 1888,” Review of
cially Ward, “Leo XIII: ‘Diplomat Pope,’” Review of

Politics, 24 (1962), 392–414, and espe-

Politics, 28 (1966), 47–61.

Rudolf Lill, ed., Vatikanische Akten zur Geschichte des deutschen Kulturkampfes; Leo XIII. Teil I

6

1878–1880 (Tübingen, 1970).

628

CONFESSIONS OF A FELLOW TRAVELER

consciously before the mind—that we reach the causal explanations of the events
7

of the past.

Past and present concerns acted reciprocally upon my dissertation, shaping the way I understood Windthorst and the nineteenth-century, just as he
and his world would shape the way I eventually saw my own. Not only
Germany of 1933–45, but my own present, the 1960s, had hovered before my
backward-looking glance as I wrote. Thus the euphoria excited by the Second
Vatican Council and John XXIII (“the miracle of the 20th century,” declared
Epstein) brought the anxieties surrounding the First Vatican Council into
sharper relief, when I found Windthorst, representing a number of Catholic
deputies, trying to dissuade the curia from bringing infallibility to a vote. A
defeat of the measure would be a disaster, read as a disavowal of the beleaguered Pius IX; a victory, on the other hand, risked schism. But Windthorst
and his colleagues, whom opponents would soon brand as “ultramontanes,”
were rebuked, scolded as “liberal Catholics.” It taught me something about
the relativity of such terms as ultramontane and liberal.
The

present

that

hovered

most

brightly

before

my

glance,

however,

belonged to the civil rights movement, whose analogies helped put a human
face on the impersonal struggles of

the past. Thus when liberals argued

against Windthorst’s motion that the government appoint two school consultants (one a Catholic), that this constituted an assault on nondenominational
education, I delivered an editorial:
Only white men believe it is possible to be color-blind; every non-white in white
society knows better. No Catholic could take seriously the liberal claim that two
consultants were unnecessary because whatever faith a man might profess in private, as a civil servant he was without a confession. When a liberal added that in
any case a single consultant accorded with the democratic doctrine of

majority
8

rule, he let the Protestant cat out of the bag, so far as Windthorst was concerned.

I would warn any advisee of mine against such present-mindedness. My mentors let it pass.
“Civil disobedience” was another lens I owed to the sixties. The term was
new

to

my

lexicon,

but

thanks

to

the

Southern

Christian

Leadership

Conference (SCLC), the Berrigan brothers, and later Bernadette Devlin, it fell

7

Quoted in Thomas A. Brady Jr., “German Burghers and Peasants in the Reformation and

the Peasants’ War: Partners or Competitors?” in Between the Middle Ages and Modernity: Individual
and Community in the Early Modern World, ed. Charles H. Parker and Jerry H. Bentley (Lanham, MD,
2007), pp. 33–51, here p. 46.
8

Windthorst: A Political Biography (Oxford, 1981), p. 62.

629

BY MARGARET LAVINIA ANDERSON

trippingly from my tongue as I recounted the response of Prussia’s Catholics
to the new Kulturkampf laws, a response that by 1876 had led to the incarceration of

hundreds of

clergy and Catholic editors, left more than 1000

parishes without a priest, and put all of Prussia’s bishops either in custody or
in exile. Ordinary Catholics expressed their solidarity through mass demonstrations and (sometimes) riots. As Germans were routinely depicted in the
literature as “unconsciously docile” toward authority, I found it strange that
historians

seemed

oblivious

to

this

movement

of

mass

9

disobedience.

Without intending it, I was beginning to feel protective toward my subjects
and didn’t like to see them so neglected. (Had anyone told me then that one
day “religion” would top the specialties listed by members of the American
Historical

Association

(AHA),

I

would

not

have

believed

them.

10

)

Nevertheless, when voices in the profession were demanding that we write
“history from below,” I also recognized that the defiance championed by
Windthorst and exercised by Catholics of all strata gave me a way to diminish the obloquy now attaching to a book about yet another “great man.”

The Past in the Present: Virginia
As Caroline Walker Bynum has so eloquently reminded us, “the past lay
11

heavy on the American South.”

I grew up in Virginia. A large oil portrait of

Robert E. Lee dominated our small living room, and childhood holidays
meant dutiful visits to the Old Dominion’s stately homes—Mount Vernon,
Gunston Hall, Arlington, Monticello—and to the lieux de mémoire that bled
over our map. One might say, borrowing from Saki, that Virginians produced
more history than they could consume locally, and I was sated. History was
no interest of

mine. But then came college. William and Mary in 1959

required freshmen to take a two-semester survey, “Europe from the Fall of
Rome to the Present,” and it dazzled me. Although literature had been my
first love, I was becoming uneasy about a discipline that seemed to allow one,
with enough casuistry and close reading, to make a plausible argument for just
about anything. On finishing my weekly English composition, I would turn to
history with a mental shout: “now—Truth!” (It wasn’t until I was a junior,
assigned the “Storm over the Gentry” raging among those giants R. W.

9

Fritz Stern, Introduction, in The Failure of

Illiberalism. Essays on the Political Culture of

Modern

Germany (London, 1972), pp. xx–liii, here p. xxv. Soon, however, Jonathan Sperber would make
good the deficit in Popular Catholicism in Nineteenth Century Germany (Princeton, 1984).
10

Robert B. Townsend, “A New Found Religion? The Field Surges among AHA Members,”

Perspectives

on

History,

47

(2009),

http://www.historians.org/perspectives/issues/2009/0912/

0912new3.cfm, accessed August 28, 2013.
11

Caroline Walker Bynum, “Curriculum Vitae: An Authorial Aside,” Common Knowledge, 9

(2003), 1–12, here 8.

630

CONFESSIONS OF A FELLOW TRAVELER

Tawney, Lawrence Stone, and Hugh Trevor-Roper, that it occurred to me that
history might also include interpretation.)
William and Mary turned me, not into an aspiring historian, but at least
into someone hungry for the humanities. Nearby Bruton Parish Church,
where

in

March

1960

the

rector

prayed

aloud

for

the

victims

of

the

Sharpeville Massacre in South Africa, turned me into a believer in racial equality. If in Caroline Bynum’s Georgia “Southerners talk[ed] with silences” and
“the issue of

race lay like a gigantic fault line under family conversations,”

among my noisy Virginia relatives the issue roared across conversations like a
tornado.

12

All of them—my parents as well as our large extended family—

applauded the “Massive Resistance” to Brown v. Board of

Education demanded

by their hero, Senator Harry T. Byrd: that is, the closing of Virginia’s public
schools. My parents went so far as to contribute, from very slender resources,
to the John S. Mosby Academy in my mother’s native Warren County, to
13

enable white children to continue to get an education.
terms for people of

Although derogatory

color (with whom they had almost no contact) never

crossed their lips, my parents’ views were strong: segregation was inscribed in
nature (wrens don’t nest with robins), and it would take generations before
colored people would reach the “level” of whites. I was initiated into such
truths early, when I asked, in 1948, which was “our” candidate, Truman or
Dewey? I was told that our candidate was a man who would not win, Senator
Strom Thurmond—but one must vote one’s conscience.
Many heated and tearful arguments followed my return from college—as
they would, later on, about Vietnam. Similar conflicts were embroiling parents and children across the country. Although painful at the time, these battles taught me that good people can believe in terrible ideas: a useful lesson
for an historian of Germany, and perhaps for anyone.
The war would always divide us (“We’ll stop bombing the North when
they stop bombing the South!” was Daddy’s view), but on race, my parents
eventually came round: influenced indirectly by the SCLC’s years of struggle,
but directly by the sudden efforts of

the Episcopal church in Virginia to

preach the irreconcilability between Christianity and racism. “Why didn’t they
tell us before?,” my father wanted to know. He began inviting the few African
Americans in his orbit to St. George’s. It is unlikely that any took him up on
it, since he felt compelled to warn that some of the congregation would probably walk out. More successfully, he doggedly set out to convince his board

12

Bynum, “Curriculum Vitae,” p. 6.

13

The courts soon forced Warren County’s schools to reopen, but Prince Edward County’s

stayed closed from 1958 to 1964.

631

BY MARGARET LAVINIA ANDERSON

of directors to allow him to hire African Americans. By the time I began my
dissertation, I didn’t need convincing that churches make a difference.
But my parents’ conversion came in the late sixties. In the meantime, I had
transferred to and graduated from Swarthmore, where the reigning assumptions were Voltairian, at least among the red-diaper babies who set the tone.
Educated people, it seemed, had left all that stuff behind. When I arrived at
Brown University in fall 1963, I, too, had joined the ranks of religion’s cultured despisers.

Anti-Catholicism at Brown: Theirs and Mine
But Brown, and perhaps in subtler ways, Rhode Island, reshuffled my deck
of assumptions. Although graduate school had been the destination of most
of my Swarthmore classmates, my own future, insofar as I thought of it at all,
had focused on obtaining a teaching certificate. As my parents, who had never
been to college, were anxious to remind me: it would be a resource “if your
husband dies.” When, in my senior year, my professors nominated me for a
Wilson, I had no sense of how little prepared I was to do graduate work on
Germany. I knew no German. Nor Russian—my second field. My inadequacies, however, complemented Brown’s, whose history department had neither
sufficient faculty nor enough linguistically qualified students to mount a real
graduate program. The beneficiary of the new National Defense Education
Act’s largesse, Brown was already preparing to move up, which it did with a
series of bright new hires in 1966–68. By then, however, I had completed my
course work. During my time, only one research seminar in Europe was
offered: seventeenth-century France. We Europeanists filled out the rest of
our programs with designated undergraduate lecture courses, to which additional assignments were attached, along with “reading seminars” that required
undergraduate bodies to be viable. I never learned of the annales school, nor
of

the debates then engaging the profession at large. It would come as a

shock, when I got out “in the world” and began teaching, to learn from my
contemporaries that events were only “surface disturbances, crests of foam
that the tides of history carry on their strong backs,” as a much-quoted line
put it, and that political history, in the words of a distinguished French historian in a popular volume on the state of our discipline, was “a corpse that has
14

to be made to lie down.”

Such hostility would cause me considerable anxi-

ety. But at Brown, at the unsophisticated tasks I was given, I worked very
hard. And with no grounds for comparison, I was happy.

14

Fernand Braudel, The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World in the Age of

Philip II (New

York, 1972), 1:21; Jacques Le Goff, “Is Politics Still the Backbone of History?” in Historical Studies
Today, ed. Felix Gilbert and Stephan R. Graubard (New York, 1972), pp. 337–55, here p. 348.

632

CONFESSIONS OF A FELLOW TRAVELER

Living in the shadow of Harvard, Brown was a provincial place. Until the
massive curricular reforms of 1969–70 that jumped it into national prominence, most of its undergraduates came from in-state. But Brown deprovincialized me. Most obviously, it threw me together with people who were both
educated and identifiably religious. Among them was a rabbi’s son with four
years of orthodox seminary under his belt, now finishing a dissertation on
Milton’s debt to Hebraica. My jaw dropped when he told me that his marriage
had

been

“arranged,”
15

another state.

in

the

traditional

way,

to

a

rabbi’s

daughter

from

Our acquaintance was brief, but my eyes opened to the pos-

sibility that commitment to a specific community or set of beliefs need not
conflict with “universalism”—tolerance, even benevolence, toward others
16

and their “particularisms.”

I could recognize the same combination when I

came upon it in Windthorst: a man willing to defend, if
Syllabus of

necessary, the

Errors (in a lawyerly way) and to brag that his Church did not

preach “Christ the Lord in the morning and some-great-philosopher-whoonce-lived-at-some-time-or-other in the afternoon”; but someone who also
took for granted that the Church could not flourish where the rights of
others—be

they

embarrassing

Jesuits,

obstreperous

Poles,

or

atheist

Socialists—went begging.
Two of my classmates were Jesuits—further examples that piety and education were not mutually exclusive. Sitting with them on the “graduate students’

bench”

at

the

back

of

William

F.

Church’s

big

course

on

the

Renaissance and Reformation, I couldn’t miss their giggles and eye-rolling at
our

professor’s

Reformation

many

guileless

eliminated

“Insensitivity,”

we

might

most
call

solecisms,
of

it

“the

today;

such

as

his

statement

sacraments

and

but

from

coming

other
the

that

the

trappings.”
podium,

it

sounded like ignorance. When Church went around the room at the end of
the year, asking us what we planned to do over the summer, another of the
squirmers said that he was leaving for Manhattan College to begin his formation as a Christian Brother. I couldn’t have been more shocked if he had
announced an intention to commit suicide—for what was the difference?
Still, it made me wonder: was I narrow-minded?
It was deprovincializing to find that the educated world to which I aspired
might have prejudices of its own. For several weeks in 1964 the Rhode Island
gubernatorial campaign preoccupied the campus, and our neighborhoods were
dotted with posters for the Republican John Chafee. The majority of under-

15

The author of a book about the influence of the Hebrew bible on Milton,

he is now pro-

fessor emeritus at Georgetown.
16

Cf. Philip Gleason on discussions of pluralism versus Americanism within American histo-

riography, in his “Working in a Tradition,” The Catholic Historical Review, 47 (2011), 435–60.

BY MARGARET LAVINIA ANDERSON

633

graduates already identified with Chafee’s party; but even normally Democratic
faculty and graduate students seemed to take it for granted that Chafee was the
candidate of choice. Word was out that his opponent, Lt. Governor Edward
P. Gallogly, was a “party hack.” I opined as much during a conversation with
Professor Epstein, assuming that he was on board. Wrong. He always voted
17

the straight Democratic ticket, he said.

The only reason his colleagues, who

usually did the same, were dismissive of Gallogly was because “he’s an Irish
Catholic with eleven children and went to Providence College.” (Chafee was
an Episcopalian, with six children, and went to Yale.) To my raised eyebrow, he
added, “Anti-Catholicism is the antisemitism of intellectuals.”
Epstein may have been wrong about his colleagues’ motives. But he was
not wrong to see that confessional issues were on the table. Another of the
undergraduate courses I was required to take was “Social and Intellectual
History of the United States.” I didn’t mind, as it plugged innumerable gaps
in my education, some of which, such as the Second Great Awakening and
Maria Monk’s Awful Disclosures (1836), have since come in handy. The course
was brilliantly taught by William G. McLoughlin, a respected historian of
American religion whom I got to know better a few years later through the
peace movement. A self-described “humanist,” McLoughlin was active in,
and later chair of, the Rhode Island’s American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU).
Imagine my surprise when I read in the Brown Daily Herald his letter objecting
to its editorial against public aid to parochial schools, an issue then exercising
this most Catholic state in the union. McLoughlin was terse and categorical:
such aid was not contrary to the First Amendment; parochial schools, which
educated large numbers of the state’s children, deserved aid—and would get
18

it. He implied that to insist otherwise was bigotry.

A Woman in History?
It was typical of Swarthmore, commented Epstein (a Harvard man), that
I had managed to graduate without ever knowing there was a “woman prob-

17

Because four of Epstein’s reviews appeared in Russell Kirk’s Modern Age, he has recently

been described as a conservative. The exuberant Epstein, who reviewed thirty books between
1959 and 1967, welcomed any outlet for his views, but by normal counters, he was a liberal. When
the German government rescinded its travel fellowship for Fritz Fischer because of his controversial book on German aims in World War I, Epstein and Fritz Stern of Columbia organized a
campaign to bring him to the United States. Epstein also led the faculty contingent of Brown’s
antiwar movement in teach-ins debating (woefully outclassed) political scientists. He died in 1967,
at age forty, in a traffic accident.
18

Did the ACLU know of this letter when it established the William G. McLoughlin First

Amendment Award? More cautious is McLoughlin’s Rhode Island: A History (New York, 1986),
pp. 224–25.

634

CONFESSIONS OF A FELLOW TRAVELER

lem.” Given the job my first semester of grading for his popular course in
modern Germany, I had caused a brouhaha by flunking a significant number
of midterm exams and allotting Ds and Cs to even more. Droves of angry
students lined up outside his door, and an outraged editorial in the Brown Daily
Herald

excoriated

the

iniquity

of

graduate

student

19

graders.

It

sent

the

department chairman, Donald Rohr, storming into Epstein’s office, in a stew
about potential declines in enrollments and fuming about the wisdom of
admitting women into the program.

In fact, I had only one female counterpart, who decamped at the end of
the year. No women were on the history faculty. Natalie Zemon Davis, there
briefly, had left at the end of 1962. It was 1978 before the department made
a

female

20

appointment.

Nevertheless,

unlike

Caroline

Bynum,

then
21

Harvard, and many of our contemporaries, I never felt disadvantaged.

at

Aside

from Rohr (also from Harvard, and subsequently a friend), the only one to
remark on my gender was Church (PhD, Harvard, 1939), whose critique of
my first paper for his historiography seminar (the assignment: What Makes
Great History?) noted that I concentrated on elements that “make for complexities and complications in the picture. Also, some of the illustrations you
use merely serve to multiply the complexities,” which led him to wonder
whether “this circular method of

reasoning may be characteristic of

the

female mind (?)”—without deciding. But Church treated me kindly, as did
they all. Brown wasn’t Harvard, and they knew it.

Bones to Pick

22

Windthorst: A Political Biography was published in 1981.

Although for some

reviewers its argument that the Center functioned as Imperial Germany’s liberal party was one bridge too far, the reception was friendly. Almost immedi-

19

The Herald was right. I had no idea what to expect of undergraduates. History repeated

itself when I came to Berkeley in 1990, with the luxury of employing a graduate student grader
myself. Another novice, he proved as ruthless as I. Sadder but wiser, I stayed up all night regrading the midterms.
20

Martha Mitchell does not list Davis or Epstein in Encyclopedia Brunoniana / History, http://

www.brown.edu/Administration/News_Bureau/Databases/Encyclopedia/search.php?
serial=H0150http://www.brown.edu/Administration/News_Bureau/Databases/Encyclopedia/
search.php?serial=H0150, accessed August 29, 2013.
21

Caroline Walker Bynum, “Why Paradox? The Contradictions of My Life as a Scholar,” The

Catholic Historical Review, 98 (2012), 439–40, 446, and idem, “Curriculum Vitae,” pp. 4–5, 10.
22

Readers of this journal may be gratified to learn that when Oxford’s editor demanded that

the word Roman be inserted before every appearance of “Catholic” in my text, I was able to win
my case by asking, “We don’t call it The Roman Catholic Historical Review, do we?”.

635

BY MARGARET LAVINIA ANDERSON

23

ately, however, I regretted my austere title.

It was increasingly clear that the

day of European biography—always excepting the Big Three: Marx, Stalin,
and Hitler—was over. More than one reviewer suggested gently that I could
have more usefully brought out the same themes in another genre. In principle, they were right. I doubt, however, that I would have been up to that considerably more difficult task, conceptually and organizationally. More important, I can’t overlook how much I owed those very themes to the person—and
speeches—of Windthorst himself.
For the next decade and beyond, my scholarship was spurred by my
increasing frustration with the grand narrative of
that

simply

ignored

what

I

was

coming

to

modern German history

think

of

as

“my”

Catholics.

Although historians of Germany proudly dubbed themselves “critical” vis à
vis their conservative predecessors, their own narratives were framed along
traditional lines, as a struggle between Left and Right, only now with the protagonists reversed. A newly fashionable vocabulary of class easily mapped on
to this Left-Right dichotomy, without challenging it. In this story, Catholics—
more than a third of the German population, but too diverse for class analysis—hardly appeared; when they did, they were chopped and stretched into
the procrustean categories of

Left and Right (usually Right), leaving them

unrecognizable, at least to me. Catholics were also absent from cultural and
intellectual

history.

In

1973,

Hans-Ulrich

Wehler

at

the

University

of

Bielefeld, the Young Turk of his generation and even today the most influential historian in Germany, edited a famous collection of

essays entitled

German Historians, billing it as representing not just the usual suspects, men
like Heinrich Treitschke, Gustav Schmoller, and Max Weber, but also figures
24

outside the mainstream: pacifists, Jews, Marxists, and Karl Marx himself.

German Catholics did not lack a tradition of historical writing, but not one
had made the A-list, something no reviewer seemed to notice. A Catholic colleague in Germany shrugged: “Catholicum est: non legitur.” (It’s Catholic; therefore not to be read.) I identified with African Americans who felt marginalized in separate journals, courses, departments. Just as “American,” without a
modifier, meant “white,” so too, in the historiography most important to me,
25

did “German” mean “Protestant.”

23

The

subtitle

of

the

translation,

Windthorst:

Zentrumspolitiker

und

Gegenspieler

Bismarcks

(Düsseldorf, 1988), to which I owe Josef Becker of Augsburg, is a bit more appealing.
24

Hans-Ulrich Wehler, ed., Deutsche Historiker (Göttingen, 1973).

25

Examples

Clericalism,

can

be

Pluralism:

found

The

in

Margaret

Zentrumsstreit

and

Lavinia
the

Anderson,

Dilemma

of

“Interdenominationalism,

Catholicism

in

Wilhelmine

Germany,” Central European History, 21 (1988), 350–78, here 377–78. A piece of revisionism, it
defends those Center deputies labeled “integralists,” arging that German hostility to pluralism
made interdenominational initiatives futile.

636

CONFESSIONS OF A FELLOW TRAVELER

Shortly after Windthorst came out, I sounded off

about this state of

affairs to Ken Barkin, a friend from Brown days. He shared my period and
country, but as his own specialties were economic history and social thought,
he had not noticed the confessional blind spot. So I gave him an example.
We all knew about the massive purge of

liberals and “re-feudalization” of

the Prussian bureaucracy carried out by the interior minister, Robert von
Puttkamer in the 1880s, didn’t we? A measure whose nefarious consequences
extended into the Weimar Republic? Yes, he agreed. Well, when I wrote my
chapter

on

the

Kulturkampf

and

came

upon

the

liberals’

demand

that

Bismarck purge “hecatombs” of Catholic officials, I looked up the work on
the Puttkamer Purge in order to put the Catholic purge into a larger context.
But I found nothing. At least ten well-known historians referred to the purge
as a fact, and, as befitted a commonplace, it was also mentioned in the three
most widely read textbooks on German history. But no one offered anything
specific, and all cited a single source, an article by a Weimar historian who
had died young: Eckart Kehr. So I read Kehr. His “classic essay,” published
in 1929 (the year he finished his dissertation), turned out to be a book review.
And it gave only one name of any victim of the purge: an actor banned, after
making an oppositional speech, from appearing in the royal theater. So! I
concluded, there’s a well-documented purge of

Catholics—from Landräte

down to letter-carriers—which is mentioned by no one! And there’s an
entirely notional purge of

liberals, asserted by everyone! What do you say

about that ?
I was only “venting” my sense of isolation. But Ken had been reviewing
books on German historiography and saw that here swam bigger fish than
the profession’s blindness to Catholics. Puttkamer’s alleged purge had become
so prominent because Kehr had tied it to legislation outlawing the Socialists
in

1878

and

Bismarck’s

first

tariff

in

1879.

These

three

developments

together had forged a new antiparliamentary bloc in the Reichstag, ushering
in a “refeudalization” of society. Subsequent historians, elaborating on Kehr’s
thesis, referred to 1878–79 as an axial shift in German politics, the “conservative re-founding of the Reich.” But did no one notice that it was the Center,
I interjected, representing small farmers, not the “feudal” Junkers with their
latifundia, who had championed the (rather modest) tariffs of 1879;

the very

Center that voted unanimously against the 1878 law against the Socialists?
Nothing connected these two measures other than Kehr’s ipse dixit! Ken
noted that the “feudalization” thesis had been the liberals’ before it was
Kehr’s. And the refugee historians whose experiences had stamped so much
of postwar historiography were themselves, like Kehr, shaped by the speeches
and writings of late-nineteenth-century liberals. Let’s write an article on this!,
he suggested.

BY MARGARET LAVINIA ANDERSON

637

In a white heat we wrote up what turned out to be a very long article, establishing a purge of the Prussian bureaucracy in every decade but the 1880s and
going so far as to hypothesize that what had most angered liberals about
Puttkamer was his desire to end the Kulturkampf (Canossa!) and his reinstatement of some of the Catholics his predecessor had purged. Ken sent a copy of
our manuscript to Hans Rosenberg, one of the refugees mentioned in our argument. Rosenberg, whose scholarship was renowned, had been a formidable,
even forbidding, presence at Berkeley; legend had it that a group of his students, on completing their dissertations, debated among themselves whether
they might now address this giant by his first name, when one of them intervened: “Guys! It’s OK to call him Hans. He knows he’s Professor Rosenberg.”
The reader for the first journal to which we sent it recommended publication, but added, “not everyone will like this piece.” To which I can only say:
And how! It’s unclear why Ken had thought Rosenberg would be pleased. He
and Kehr had studied together in the same Berlin seminar, and got their PhDs
the same year under the same Doktorvater. He was also one of the godfathers
of the very “Bielefeld School” (sometimes called “Kehrites”) that then reigned
supreme in Germany’s historical firmament. Seventy-eight and in ill health,
Rosenberg clearly found the obligation burdensome, but he dutifully read our
article through––twice. “I . . . shall not play around the bush,” he began:
Frankly, except for some informative or suggestive scattered bits I find this study a
rather deplorable performance. It is, I submit . . . ill-conceived and ill-balanced; thematically a contrived, queerly structured muddle with narrow historical perspectives
conceptually confused; terminologically imprecise and often careless and crude;
consequently, analytically shallow, excessively simplistic and fuzzy; as for interpretation, pretentious and with regard to the central thesis unoriginal. . . . Moreover, save
for certain aspects of the Kulturkampf and of the history of political Catholicism,
I noticed glaring gaps in highly pertinent basic historic knowledge. . . .
Let me say in conclusion that I am greatly surprised and disappointed to find
Kenneth Barkin as the co-author of

such an ill-digested intellectual mish-mash.

And if you permit me a word of personal advice: Don’t publish this article, as it
stands, unless you want to seriously damage your good reputation as a serious
scholar in the field of modern German history. . . .

He ended by implying that Ken had been led astray by “alas, Mrs. Anderson. . . .”

26

It is fair to say that Ken was traumatized by the letter. When, much later,
I read it to my husband, a Rosenberg student, he laughed aloud. He could just

26

Hans Rosenberg to Kenneth Barkin, Freiburg im Breisgau, March 21, 1982, photocopy

the author’s possession.

in

638

CONFESSIONS OF A FELLOW TRAVELER

hear Rosenberg’s voice, he said; the professor would have been furious at him
for marrying me. Then he looked up at the ceiling and said, “Don’t be mad,
Hans!”
“The Myth of the Puttkamer Purge and the Reality of the Kulturkampf ”
is probably cited more often than anything else either of

us has written.

Wehler, a main target, generously offered to publish it in his Geschichte und
Gesellschaft if

American journals turned it down. That (eventually) proved

27

unnecessary.

In 1984 it won the biannual prize of the Conference Group for

Central European History for best article. In 1997, the Conference Group
decided to name this award the Hans Rosenberg Prize.

Catholics in Germany’s Grand Narrative? Quantification
It was one thing to show that Catholics were being excluded. More important, however, was to show that including them would make any difference.
During my first decade of teaching the profession was bubbling over with
programmatic statements to the effect that History must catch up with the
social

sciences,

must

stop

being

satisfied

with

sloppy

conclusions

about

“many” of this and “most” of that. Rigor demanded precision, which meant
28

quantification.

It is difficult today, after the linguistic turn, the postmodern

turn, the cultural turn, and other turns too numerous to mention, to remember how intimidating such pronouncements could be, especially for one like
myself, whose quantitative GRE did not break into two digits. I signed up for
the Newberry Library’s one-week crash course in “Quantitative Methods for
Historians,” taught by Richard Jensen, whose own work, along with that of
other U.S. “ethno-cultural” historians, by bringing both religion and politics
back into our conversations, had been a light in my darkness. Jensen told us
about amazing possibilities, of
useful; he warned us of

which regression analysis seemed the most

pitfalls, of

which the “ecological fallacy” was the

most dangerous. I would soon waste a whole semester trying to turn a collection of popular protests, material that was essentially narrative, into a “data
set” via the miracle of

codification. I should have heeded Jensen’s parting

message to the class: When all was said and done, for most historians plain

27

Margaret Lavinia Anderson and Kenneth Barkin, “The Myth of the Puttkamer Purge and

the Reality of the Kulturkampf: Some Reflections on the Historiography of Imperial Germany,”
The Journal of

Modern History, 54 (1982), 447–86; in Germany: “Der Mythos der Puttkamer-

‘Säuberung’ und die Realität des Kulturkampfes: Einige Überlegungen Geschichtsschreibung
über das kaiserliche Deutschland,” Historisches Jahrbuch, 109 (1989), 452–98.
28

With “mad-scientist bravado,” admits Paul E. Johnson, in “Reflections: Looking Back at

Social History,” Reviews in American History, 39 (2011), 379–88, here 380.

639

BY MARGARET LAVINIA ANDERSON

29

old percentages are still the most useful kind of quantification.

It was that

primitive form that I grabbed when offered a spot on an AHA panel on
“Catholics and Politics in the 19th Century.”

With my title, “The Kulturkampf and the Course of German History,”
I had committed myself to putting Catholics into Germany’s grand narrative. With little time to waste, I turned to the only accessible data set I had:
votes in parliament and election results. I started with a central issue of the
nineteenth

century,

the

“Constitutional

Conflict”

in

the

1860s

between

Bismarck and Prussia’s then-liberal parliament, and showed, via a graph,
that

Catholic

opponents

in

districts
the

had

three

overwhelmingly

“conflict”

voted

elections.

In

for

Bismarck’s

1866,

liberal

however,

after

Prussia’s military victory over Austria, most liberal deputies pivoted, and
voted three to one to “forgive” Bismarck for governing unconstitutionally,
an event long considered a symbolic turning-point of
when

liberalism

deputies

from

capitulated

districts

in

to

state

Prussia’s

power.
western

I

German history,

discovered,

provinces,

however,

home

to

a

that
large

Catholic population, voted against the “indemnity” bill; in majority-Catholic
districts, by a margin of two to one—and I produced a pie chart to show it.
Another graph tracked Prussian Catholic voting behavior from 1852 to
1918. It showed that they had never supported the Conser vatives in significant numbers, but as, after 1870, their liberal favorites became increasingly
associated with anti-Catholicism, they turned to the Center Party. This was
not histoire événementielle, for the realignment of

Catholic voters into their

“own” party would persist, with astonishingly little erosion, for the next
sixty

years,

sur viving

the

shocks

of

industrialization,

World

War

I,

the

hyper-inflation of 1923, and the depression of 1930–32. Since there were
more Catholics than liberals in Germany, the subtraction of Catholic support from the liberal camp meant a permanent weakening of
position in parliament—a loss of

the liberal

entire regions and “demographics” that

they would never recover. Thus the real turning point in Germany’s grand
narrative was not parliament’s acceptance of

the indemnity bill in 1866,

from which liberalism might have rebounded, but the Kulturkampf in the
1870s.

To

my

surprise,

it

too

was

awarded

the

Conference

Group

Central European History’s biannual article prize—clearly a fluke.

30

for

Having

sat on a few prize committees myself, I now know that such honors mean

29

What I learned at Jensen’s knee left a permanent impression, however, evident in critiques

of

statistics in my reviews.

See, for example, Margaret Lavinia Anderson, “From Syllabus to

Shoah?” Central European History, 34 (2001), 231–38, here 233–35.
30

Idem, “The Kulturkampf and the Course of German History,” Central European History, 19

(1986), 82–115.

640

CONFESSIONS OF A FELLOW TRAVELER

only that you have at least one fan—and no one actively opposed. But still,
I was chuffed.
I was not alone in noticing the longue durée of Catholic voting. And subsequent statistical research by others has strengthened and lengthened the picture. Karl Rohe showed that not only did the Kulturkampf change Catholic
voters, it reversed the progress of Social Democrats among Protestants, as
31

identity issues trumped economic ones.

And sophisticated regression analy-

ses of the “Hitler” elections of 1930–32, when the Nazis suddenly moved
from the fringes to become Germany’s largest party, found that none of the
variables traditionally associated with voting Nazi—age, class, gender, region,
occupation, unemployment—actually made much difference, as Nazis drew
from all parts of
“Protestants

society. The only variable of

were

on

average

twice

significance was religion:
NSDAP

as

Catholics;” even Social Democrats were twice as likely as Catholics of

any

32

party to switch their votes to Hitler.

as

vulnerable

to

the

I confess that I was pleased to read

these results. But I heard my 1965-self saying to my 1991-self: all the more
dismaying

that

the

episcopate—supported

by

the

cardinal

secretary

of

state—chose to deal.

My pilgrimage to the realm of

quantification was brief. Statistics and

graphs were a small part of “The Kulturkampf and the Course of German
History,” included only to establish a point. My head had already been turned
by quantification’s methodological rival, after a colleague in anthropology had
steered me to Clifford Geertz’s famous essay on the Balinese cockfight and
33

his more programmatic statement on “thick description.”

Reading these

pieces and, a bit later, the work of Caroline Bynum, was stimulating and liberating beyond measure: stimulating, because they seemed to offer ways of
getting “inside” a story; liberating, because, while quantification promised a
precarious certainty, the ethnographic turn embraced uncertainty. Bynum,
dubbing it “the comic mode,” described the approach as “aware of

con-

trivance, of risk. It always admits that we may be wrong. . . . that doing his34

tory is, for the historian, telling a story that could be told in another way.”

This kind of history made room for imagination, but its “method,” it seemed

31

Karl Rohe, Wahlen und Wählertraditionen in Deutschland (Frankfurt a.M., 1992).

32

Jürgen W. Falter, Hitlers Wähler (Munich, 1991), pp. 116–17, 177, 187–88.

33

Clifford Geertz, “Deep Play: Notes on the Balinese Cockfight,” Daedalus, 101 (1972), 1–37;

idem, “Thick Description: Toward an Interpretative Theory of Culture,” in idem, The Inter pretation
of

Cultures (New York, 1973), pp. 3–30.
34

Caroline Walker Bynum, “In Praise of Fragments: History in the Comic Mode,” in idem,

Fragmentation and Redemption: Essays on Gender and the Human Body in Medieval Religion (New York,
1991), pp. 11–26, here p. 25.

641

BY MARGARET LAVINIA ANDERSON

to me, was simply paying strenuous attention, especially to what was said and
unsaid, and to what one thought one already knew: the kind of “close reading” that I had loved in my literature seminars (even as my undergraduate self
35

had mistrusted a method so apparently subjective).

My own close readings

never discovered anything as startling as “Jesus as Mother,” but beginning
with “The Kulturkampf and the Course of German History,” I was certainly
on the lookout.

Close Reading, and a Turn of the Screw
For example, I examined a spectacular upset in Germany’s first general
election, one that prompted the first piece of

Kulturkampf

legislation and

occupied the Reichstag longer than any contest in Germany’s history. The
losing candidate was a nobleman, prominent locally as well as nationally,
backed by the fourth richest man in Prussia, who for all intents and purposes
owned the election district and had not hesitated to use these advantages. The
district itself, the most populous in Germany, possessed only a primitive communications infrastructure. Yet the winner, a Berlin chaplain named Müller,
had never even campaigned there. How had this humble outsider, with not a
penny to his name, been able to prevail? In Müller’s victory, and the controversy surrounding it, I saw my cockfight. Müller’s Center Party colleagues were
quick to interpret the contest as one between the region’s magnates and
dependent populations striving to emancipate themselves. Their opponents,
on the other hand, were convinced that preposterous religious appeals, in a
district 90 percent Catholic, had done the trick. They took particular umbrage
in reports that Müller’s clerical supporters had lauded him as an anchorite,
subsisting in an unheated room, barely eating, giving what he had to the poor.
Although the investigation found only three pastors, in a district of more than
150,000,

who

had

publically

supported

Müller,

the

Reichstag

majority,

describing Catholic voters generally as dumb, semi-illiterate, and thus incapable of choosing a candidate not foisted on them by their priests, threw out
the election, citing clerical influence. It then voted to criminalize political
speech by the clergy. It seemed to me that the incident revealed an overlooked
36

cause of the Kulturkampf: fear of democracy.

The case was so fascinating,

and its documentation so rich, that I kept coming back to it, folding it and
37

Müller even into essays with other foci.

35

Geertz acknowledged that this might look like “long-distance mind reading” in “Thick

Description,” p. 14.
36

Anderson, “The Kulturkampf.”

37

See, for example, Margaret Lavinia Anderson, “Voter, Junker, Landrat, Priest: The Old

Authorities and the New Franchise in Imperial Germany, 1871–1914,” American Historical Review,
98 (1993), 1448–74, here 1464–67.

642

CONFESSIONS OF A FELLOW TRAVELER

Working on Windthorst, I had been fortunate in having a genuine hero as my
subject. In Müller, my luck ran out. To the Berlin faithful, the man was indeed a
folk hero. A sociable priest, practicing a convivial “Club-and-Pub, Wee-SmallHours, around-the-Beertable cure of souls,” Müller was also a “social” priest,
38

founding more than a score of organizations for workers and artisans.

In 1869,

when Berlin mobs, egged on by liberal city fathers, did their best to demolish a
Dominican orphanage, Müller gained local notoriety by subsequently mobilizing
his

various

associations

to

disrupt

liberal

rallies

campaigning

to

expel

the

Catholic orders. After his death, a church was built in Müller’s honor, annual
memorials were held at his grave, and “the people” talked of canonization. In
January 1990, when I visited (then-East) Berlin, I was surprised but pleased to
see

Müller’s

portrait

displayed

prominently

among

diocesan

greats

at

the

entrance hall of St. Hedwig’s, the Catholic cathedral.
There were signs, however, that should have given me pause. Even after he
became the most senior priest in the city, Müller remained at the lowest rank,
never entrusted with a parish. At St. Hedwig’s, to which he was attached, he
was allowed to preach only when other clergy were sick. The Center’s front
bench kept him at arm’s length, their memoirs mentioning him only to say
that he was “unpolitical.” Years after publishing my piece, when I stumbled
on his publications—a regional church paper and a kind of

almanac, pub-

lished annually—I saw why. Pages and pages were dominated by apocalyptic
diatribes, blaming all of

Germany’s confessional afflictions on secret soci-

eties, Freemasons, and Jews, who together formed a single nefarious network.
Here was the very issue, Catholic antisemitism, that I had once assumed
would

dominate

my

dissertation.

And

with

this

new

turn

of

the

screw,

Müller’s election suddenly looked quite different. I was nonplussed. The liberal who had initiated the attack in the Reichstag on his victory was indeed a
prominent Jew, but he never mentioned antisemitism, nor had any of

the

priest’s many other detractors. Church historians, when they treated the man
at all, also did not mention antisemitism, and the hagiographies of Müller’s
admirers led me to think that he was actually friendly to Jews. I felt a debt of
honor to set straight a record that I had unintentionally muddled, and I began
looking for whatever I could find on the man and on the district that chose
him. In 2001, I mentioned the problem in a review article in which I said
39

everything I had to say about Catholic antisemitism in the German empire.

A Festschrift invitation finally gave me the space to report all I knew on both

38

“Vereins-Spätabend-und Nacht- und-Wirtshaus- und-Biertisch-Seelsorge” in Ernst Thrasolt, Eduard

Müller. Der Berliner Missionsvikar. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des Katholizismus in Berlin, der Mark
Brandenburg und Pommern (Berlin, 1953), p. 67.
39

Anderson, “From Syllabus to Shoah?”

643

BY MARGARET LAVINIA ANDERSON

the election upset and the priest’s career. A dual crisis—in the Church, in the
wake of the infallibility definition, and in financial markets, in the wake of the
Franco-Prussian war—had played a significant role in both diocese and constituency, I found. But what Müller’s upset victory may have owed to his antisemitism, and whether that antisemitism was itself triggered by the era’s vir40

ulent anti-Catholicism, were matters for which I had no final answer.

Swarthmore and Britain
Although the Müller puzzle gnawed at me over the years, most of

that

time my attention lay elsewhere. Nearly half of my working life was spent at
Swarthmore, in a department of ten. As is the way at small colleges with big
curricula, I was perforce stretched into areas for which I had no training. One
was Britain, and British historiography opened new worlds to me. Most
notably, the Church—Anglican, Catholic, and the nonconformist “chapels”
—was ever-present in the British literature, not compartmentalized, as in
Germany, on the margins of whatever else was happening. Religious ideas—
the Oxford movement, evangelicalism, the reception of German biblical criticism, for example—were also very much “in” the national story, as were the
everyday

activities

and

mentalité

of

the

people

as

41

believers.

Even

E.

P.

Thompson, for all his caricatures of Methodism, his misogynist readings of
feminine imagery for Christ and snide reference to “the pious sisterhood,”
42

took it for granted that religion was a significant subject.

The British litera-

ture helped me think about parallel developments that were occurring (or not
occurring) in Germany.
Not the least of the gifts that teaching courses in Victorian England and
an honors seminar in Britain on 1815–1914 brought me was the subject of
my next book. Norman Gash’s Politics in the Age of Peel, which examined from
various angles the ways the House of Commons was chosen, bowled me over.
Gash took as his theme not election outcomes, the stuff of narrative and statistics, but “the medium . . . in which the major political events take place”—
a whole messy world of patronage and pressure, bribery and boycott, defer-

40

Margaret Lavinia Anderson, “Anatomy of an Election: Anti-Catholicism, Antisemitism, and

Social Conflict in the Era of

Reichsgründung and Kulturkampf,” in Von Freiheit, Solidarität und

Subsidiarität—Staat und Gesellschaft der Moderne in Theorie und Praxis. Festschrift für Karsten Ruppert zum
65. Geburtstag, ed. Markus Raasch and Tobias Hirschmüller (Berlin, 2013), pp. 39–95.
41

Among German historians, only Josef Becker then offered the kind of integration of reli-

gion into “everything else” that I was looking for. See Becker, Liberaler Staat und Kirche in der Ära
von Reichsgründung und Kulturkampf. Geschichte und Strukturen ihres Verhältnisses in Baden 1860–1876
(Mainz, 1973).
42

E. P. Thompson, The Making of

350–400, and passim; here esp. 371–73.

the English Working Class (London, 1963), pp. 26–54,

644

CONFESSIONS OF A FELLOW TRAVELER

ence and violence, and all the other frailties to which flesh is prone. Well
before the dawn of the ethnographic turn, Gash teased out the assumptions
and expectations—the “political culture,” although that was not a term he
43

employed—that these forces revealed.

I resolved to take Gash to Germany.

There, voters turned out in phenomenal numbers (among Catholics, the most
enthusiastic participants, in excess in some areas of

those participating in

Easter Communion), yet all that considerable effort went into electing a
Reichstag that, in common opinion, had little power. Thus German elections
seemed to offer just the kind of “seemingly incomprehensible rite” that
44

ethnographers sought in order to gain “entry into another culture.”

Although I only dimly perceived it when I began, Gash’s book also suggested
a story line on which to hang this rich material. By showing that the 1832 Reform
Bill had effected little change in either Britain’s power structure or its political
practices, Gash had undermined one of the pillars of the story of progress that
was long the English (if not the Scottish and Irish) master narrative. Although
outdated in Britain, this “Whig” history supplied the ghostly backdrop for much
“critical” German writing, whose own dark teleology was Whig history’s evil
45

twin.

Dubbed the “Sonderweg,” one version had recently come under attack—not
46

accidently, in Britain.

Although Germany’s pessimist narrative was not initially a

target of my own research, as time went on, and I became a magpie raiding even
the nests of French and American historiography to feather my own, my view of
what nineteenth and early-twentieth-century contemporaries considered “democratic” politics became considerably more complicated. The result was a less
gloomy trajectory for Germany, reflected in the title I gave my final product:
47

Practicing Democracy.

The story of Germany between 1871 and 1914 moving in a

more democratic direction, even if only “for practice,” was difficult for some to
swallow, especially historians who attributed Germany’s decision for war in 1914
to her parlous domestic development. I was pleased, therefore, that Central
European History made Practicing Democracy the subject of a debate between one of

43

Subtitled A Study in the Technique of

Parliamentary Representation, 1830–1850 (London, 1953),

p. ix. Gash initiated a whole a genre of stimulating and imaginative British election studies rooted
in social history.
44

This description of the anthropological method is from Roger Chartier, “Text, Symbols,

and Frenchness,” Journal of

Modern History, 57 (1985), 682–695, here 683.

45

German historians and social scientists, including (perhaps especially) émigrés, tended to

compare the worst aspects of German history with the best of the rest. Thus they saw Britain
without the class system; the United States without slavery and Jim Crow; France without the
Terror, the coups, and the nullifications of elections disliked by the majority.
46

David Blackbourn and Geoff Eley, Mythen deutscher Geschichtsschreibung. Die gescheiterte bürgerliche

Revolution von 1848 (Frankfurt a.M, 1980), revised as The Peculiarities of German History (Oxford, 1984).
47

Margaret Lavinia Anderson, Practicing Democracy: Elections and Political Culture in Imperial

Germany (Princeton, 2000).

BY MARGARET LAVINIA ANDERSON

645

our leading pessimists, Volker Berghahn, and me, which allowed us to bring the
48

main issues of contention into sharper relief.

Gash considered it obvious that “religion was a species of politics,” but
49

stopped there.

For me, although I wrote about many other elements of soci-

ety and the law, the Church was the starting point. I devoted two early chapters to the clergy and found that the story of the clergy in politics, the intertwining of religious with political issues, was in many ways a universal feature
of electoral politics during the period in which democratic institutions were
developing. Clerical politicking, as journalists, as organizers, as candidates
themselves, rose and fell in direct proportion to the extensions (and retractions) of the franchise; and the hostility it generated was the same in France,
Ireland, and even the United States. But only in Germany did a well-organized Catholic party control so many votes in parliament and—after the fall of
the monarchy in 1918—become the indispensable partner of every coalition
government. The political clout of the Catholic clergy in Germany had some
paradoxical consequences. Involving themselves in elections in order to protect the Church against very real attacks, the clergy soon became champions
of the ordinary voter and his democratic franchise in practice (if not quite in
theory), something for which little in their theological formation could have
prepared them. But since the Church could be defended only in parliament,
the result was to privilege the decisions of the Catholic party over those of
its prelates and to habituate not only the laity but even the bishops to looking to the party for direction; this in turn gave the clergy even greater incentives to involve themselves in party politics. But the hostile topoi that clung
to them and to Catholics more generally also helped galvanize Protestant
voters, whose election appeals sometimes sounded as if Jan Huss, Giordano
Bruno, and Galileo, rather than taxes, tariffs, and the navy, were the burning
issues of the day. To the degree that clerical engagement recruited Catholics
and their party to the cause of democracy, it discredited democracy among
many of the non-Catholic Germans whose support was necessary if democracy in Germany were ever to “work.”

Berkeley, Ultramontanism, and the Orient
The book was long in the making. In the meantime, I moved to University
of

California–Berkeley in 1990. That ended my sojourn in British history

and,

eventually,

in

fascist

Europe,

but

I

began

one-semester

excursions

through “Europe from 1453 to the Present.” Keeping me up many a long

48

Volker Berghahn and Margaret Lavinia Anderson, “An Exchange on the Kaiserreich,”

Central European History, 35 (2002), 75–91.
49

Gash, Politics in the Age of

Peel, p. 175.

646

CONFESSIONS OF A FELLOW TRAVELER

night, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, although after a rocky beginning, the most rewarding. In 2007 and 2008 it was webcast and podcast for
iTunes U, and I began to get encouraging emails from listeners who had
never had the opportunity to take history. And I kept thinking about “religion and society,” compiling a massive bibliography for a graduate seminar
that remained stillborn.
A conference on “Secularization, Dechristianization, and Rechristianization in Europe” led me to reflect on how little even broad terms like these
captured developments in Germany in my period, where vocations were high
and growing, and in at least one diocese did not peak until 1935—when the
Nazis shut down the seminaries. Women’s orders throve, but I found no sign
of the “feminization” of religion that French and American historiography
led me to expect. There were miracles in Germany as in France, but they
resisted the label popular piety, as some devotees occupied the highest rungs
of

the social-political ladder. Indeed, inclusiveness seemed characteristic of

German Catholicism, as was a kind of

cosmopolitanism, features I was

inclined to attribute to “ultramontanism.” Used by critics more than friends,
the term was, admittedly, anything but stable, and in Germany (among detractors) was often nothing more than an epithet for the Center Party and its affil50

iates.

As an ideology, it has been convicted by church historians of funda51

mentalism, obscuratism, and psychopathology.

But I was struck by a kind of
52

popular strength encouraged by ultramontanism as a culture.

Whatever it

was, it put starch in the laity and a brake on the hyper-nationalism that was
increasingly affecting “reform” (anti-ultramontane) Catholics.
The paradoxical connections between ultramontanism (= authority) and
democracy (= power to the people) were puzzling, and in a keynote address
at a conference of
some

very

abstract

Latin Americanists, I went out on a limb. Drawing on
concepts

of

political

scientists

(who

certainly

never

thought their ideas might be used to demonstrate the utility of Pio Nono’s
Church), I argued that precisely the ultramontane mode of Catholicism that
accompanied its Europe-wide revival helped midwife the transition to demo-

50

Such was its usage among so-called “Reform” Catholics.” See Derek Hastings, Catholicism

and the Roots of

Nazism: Religious Identity and National Socialism (Oxford, 2010).

51

For example, see Otto Weiss, Die Redemptoristen in Bayern (1790–1909). Ein Beitrag zur

Geschichte des Ultramontanismus (Munich, 1983), esp. pp. 552–671, an extraordinary work covering
all aspects of the order, from demography to spirituality. See Margaret Lavinia Anderson, “Piety
and Politics: Recent Work in German Catholicism,” Journal of

Modern History, (1991), 681–716,

here 698–705.
52

Idem, “The Limits of Secularization: On the Problem of the Catholic Revival in Nineteenth-

Century Germany,” Historical Journal, 38 (1995), 647–670; esp. 655–56, 661–66.

647

BY MARGARET LAVINIA ANDERSON

53

cratic forms at the birth of mass politics.

I meant it, but the ironies (“com-

plexities and complications”) for which Professor Church had once so gently
rebuked me would have left him shaking his head.
With Practicing Democracy in press, I feared getting stale if

I spent my

remaining years on parties, parliaments, and Church. What to do? My colleague Richard Webster, an historian of Italy with an interest in Turkey, suggested a study of Johannes Lepsius, whom he knew as a hero of The Forty
Days of

Musa Dagh (New York, 1934), Franz Werfel’s epic on the Armenian

genocide. In a famous scene, Lepsius, a former Lutheran pastor then running
a relief agency in the Near East, confronts Enver Pasha in 1915 and urges
him to cease the mass deportations. I had never heard of Lepsius, knew nothing of the Ottoman empire, and associated the Armenians only with my parents’ admonition, when urging me to clean up my plate: “Remember the
starving Armenians!” Webster’s topic fit all my criteria for a new direction.
A German colleague, I soon found, had been working on a Lepsius biography for years, so I widened my lens to include Germany’s involvement in
the Armenian people’s terrible fate more generally. It’s taught me a lot, even
if I’ve published less than I hoped. One article explores what the German
public knew about the lot of

the Armenians during World War I, when

Turkey was their ally. A more recent piece challenges the heroic reputations
54

of three Westerners who claimed they aided the Armenians.

My most sub-

stantial article grew out of a request to address a conference on German orientalism. I was then examining the Armenian massacres of
took

as

my

explanandum

the

failure

of

the

German

Europe—to press for intervention on behalf

of

the 1890s and

public—unique

in

this Christian people. In

addition to obvious geopolitical considerations, I found two surprises. First,
Armenian human rights found steadfast support in Germany not from the
Left

or

Catholics,

but

only

from

theologically

conservative,

“awakened”

Protestants connected with the international missionary movement—an association that hurt Armenians among those of

other persuasions. Second,

Eduard Said had posited the resemblance of “orientalism” to Western anti-

53

Idem,

“The

Divisions

of

the

Pope.

The

Catholic

Revival

and

Europe’s

Transition

to

Democracy,” in The Politics of Religion in an Age of Revival, ed. Austen Ivereigh (London, 2000), pp.
22–42.
54

Idem,“Who Still Talked about the Extermination of

German Silences,” in A Question of

the Armenians? German Talk and

Genocide, ed. Norman Naimark, Ronald Grigor Suny, and

Fatma Müge Göçek (New York, 2011), pp. 199–220, 372–79, and “Helden in Zeiten eines
Völkermords? Armin T. Wegner, Ernst Jäckh, Henry Morgenthau,” in Johannes Lepsius—Eine
deutsche Ausnahme. Der Völkermord an den Armeniern, Humanitarismus und Menschenrechte, ed. Rolf
Hosfeld (Göttingen, 2013), pp. 126–71.

648

CONFESSIONS OF A FELLOW TRAVELER

semitism, describing it as antisemitism’s “Islamic branch.” But the same ugly
tropes

that

we

associate

with

antisemitism

were

often

applied

among

Germans to Armenians, while positive qualities, moral and cultural, were
55

ascribed to Turks, with occasional kind words even spilling over to Islam.

Before I began this new journey, a colleague asked what my new project
would be. When I told him “Germany and the Armenian genocide,” he
smiled. “It figures,” he said. “Why’s that?” I asked, truly puzzled. “The religion thing” was the astute reply.
Church history, which I thought I’d left behind, is following me onto the
killing fields of Eastern Anatolia.

55

Idem,

“‘Down

in

Turkey

Far

Away’:

Human

Orientalism in Wilhelmine Germany,” Journal of

Rights,

the

Armenian

Massacres,

Modern History, 79 (2007), 80–113.

and

CATHOLIC CHAPLAINS IN THE CIVIL WAR
BY

SEAN FABUN*
Many Catholics, particularly the clergy, saw the American Civil War as an opportunity to
demonstrate their legitimacy as Americans. Therefore, the Catholic chaplains ministering to
military personnel were not only important outlets of faith for Catholic soldiers who fought
in the war but also were ambassadors to the wider American population. Their ministries
brought new Catholics into the fold, undermined popular prejudices, and encouraged toleration. The author examines the ministries of

these Catholic chaplains, seeking a better

understanding of their role in, and perception of, the Civil War and the ways in which they
helped to promote Catholicism in the United States.

Keywords: American Civil War; anti-Catholic prejudice; Irish Brigade; military
chaplains

When the American Civil War began in 1861 Catholics were acutely aware
of their status as outsiders in the United States. Although the Catholic population had been increasing in recent years due to massive waves of immigration from Europe (particularly Ireland and Germany), and Catholicism was
gaining an increased national presence as a result of strengthening Catholic
institutions (such as schools and the press), Catholics still lacked significant
social or political influence, and they continued to be subject to nativist aggres1

sion.

The Catholic hierarchy in America followed an established precedent of

avoiding political involvement and took no formal position on secession, leaving American Catholics free to follow their particular allegiance, which many
2

of them did passionately.

The American bishops also saw the outbreak of war

as an opportunity for Catholics to demonstrate their patriotism and loyalty as
well as cement Catholicism’s place in America’s religious life. As such, they

*Mr.

Fabun

is

an

independent

scholar

in

Pinole,

California,

email:

funkmasterfabun@

gmail.com. He received his BA from American University and his MA from the National
University of Ireland at Galway. His undergraduate thesis is the basis of this article.
1

Jay P. Dolan, The American Catholic Experience: A History from Colonial Times to the Present

(Garden City, NY, , 1985), pp. 137–38; Robert J. Miller, Both Prayed to the Same God: Religion and
Faith in the American Civil War (Lanham, MD, 2007), pp. 32–33; Randall Miller, “Catholic Religion,
Irish Ethnicity, and the Civil War,” in Religion and the American Civil War, ed. Randall Miller, Harry
S. Stout, and Charles Reagan Wilson (New York, 1998), pp. 261–96, here p. 262.
2

R. Miller, “Catholic Religion,” p. 263.

675

676

CATHOLIC CHAPLAINS IN THE CIVIL WAR

encouraged Catholics who chose to fight to do so bravely and with honor,
whichever side they chose, thereby demonstrating the legitimacy and loyalty of
3

Catholics in America and, by extension, of the Catholic Church itself.
With this and the spiritual needs of

enlisted Catholics in mind, many

Catholic priests signed on as military chaplains for both the Union and the
Confederacy. Their chaplaincies were highly demanding positions, and they
served their men often without consideration for the danger to themselves.
They were daring and dedicated men who were a source of strength and an
outlet of faith for the soldiers to whom they ministered. Their service and
dedication often gained opprobrium and praise from the Protestants who had
occasion to interact with them and were impressed by the ardor with which
they performed their ministries. That the Catholic chaplains’ commitment
would lead them out onto the field of

battle in the midst of

violence and

chaos was but one indication of the strength of their faith and the importance they assigned their mission. This dedication and faith did much to
improve Protestant opinions of Catholicism in general.
The role of Catholics in the Civil War has been largely overlooked by historical research in the past. The only monograph to approach specifically and
exclusively the relationship between the two is Benjamin Blied’s aptly titled
Catholics and the Civil War, which is regrettably short at only 162 pages and was
published more than half

4

a century ago.

Another exception is the slightly

more recent (but still thirty years old) PhD dissertation by Judith Conrad
5

Wimmer, “American Catholic Interpretations of the Civil War.”

Wimmer’s

dissertation is a well-researched and informative effort, but, as the title suggests, it focuses on Catholic interpretations of the war and largely ignores the
Catholic experience in the war. Other literature is scarce. Most major studies
of religion in the Civil War hardly acknowledge Catholicism as more than an
aside

or

a

footnote.

Likewise,

histories

of

Catholicism

and

Catholics

in

America tend to skim over the war and downplay its importance in the narrative of Catholic history.
In recent years this trend has begun to shift, and the story of Catholics in
the Civil War is beginning to be told. But it is doing so in parts. Randall Miller’s
essay, “Catholic Religion, Irish Ethnicity, and the Civil War,” is, as he says, “a
6

preliminary dig into one level of the story.”

It investigates the ways in which

3

R. Miller, “Catholic Religion,” pp. 263–64.

4

Benjamin J. Blied, Catholics in the Civil War (Milwaukee, 1945)

5

Judith Conrad Wimmer, “American Catholic Interpretations of the Civil War” (PhD diss.,

Drew University, 1980).
6

R. Miller, “Catholic Religion,” p. 262.

677

BY SEAN FABUN

the American Catholic Church generally, and Irish Catholics specifically, used
the Civil War as an opportunity to display their religious and ethnic legitimacy
as Americans. Warren B. Armstrong’s For Courageous Fighting and Confident Dying
is a study of Union chaplains in the Civil War, and it covers the many Catholic
7

chaplains who served in the federal army as central pieces of its story.

Looking

at the war as a whole, Robert J. Miller’s Both Prayed to the Same God is a remarkable synthesis of a great deal of literature on religion in the Civil War, and it
diligently

acknowledges

and

examines

many

faiths,

including

Catholicism.

Likewise, George C. Rable’s God’s Almost Chosen Peoples is a well-rounded and
thorough study that gives due attention to the multitude of

religions in the
8

United and Confederate States of America, including Catholicism.

This article will add another level to the story. It will focus particularly on
the role of Catholic chaplains, whose position and relative scarcity made them
more noticeable than enlisted soldiers and whose role in the army made them
more aware of the actualities of war than the bishops. In addition to their duties
ministering to Catholic soldiers, it examines their role in promoting the cause
of, and undermining prejudice against, Catholicism in America. It will, in many
ways,

build

on

the

work

of

Warren

Armstrong

and

Randall

Miller.

Like

Armstrong’s book, this article looks at Civil War chaplains, but it focuses specifically on Catholic chaplains and shows no distinction between North and
South. Like Randall Miller’s article, it sees Catholic involvement in the Civil War
as a demonstration of

legitimacy and Americanism, but it does so without

Miller’s ethnic lens, replacing it with a perspective of position: the chaplaincy.
The bulk of argument here will focus on the experiences of eleven chaplains: priests Peter Paul Cooney, Joseph B. O’Hagan, Francis McAtee, William
Corby, Michael Nash, Peter Tissot, and Paul Gillen of

the North; John

Bannon, James Sheeran, Aegidius Smulders, and Louis-Hippolyte Gache of
the South (see appendix A). It is derived from an analysis of their memoirs,
letters, and journals, as well as a range of published secondary sources. As will
be made clear, these Catholic chaplains were acutely aware of their position
as ambassadors for Catholicism in America and were as active in this capacity as in their many other duties.
It is, of course, impossible to make any absolute claims about “Catholic
chaplains” as a group based on the experiences of just a few of their number;
however, by looking at the records left by these few, patterns and similarities

7

Warren B. Armstrong, For Courageous Fighting and Confident Dying: Union Chaplains in the Civil

War (Lawrence, KS, 1998).
8

George C. Rable, God’s Almost Chosen Peoples: A Religious History of

(Chapel Hill, NC, 2010).

the American Civil War

678

CATHOLIC CHAPLAINS IN THE CIVIL WAR

can be seen. They shared many of the same goals, for example, and many of
the same responsibilities during battle and in camp. Of course, there are many
differences between each of them, based on their state or country of origin,
their time and location of service in the war, and even their personalities, but
those differences do not detract from all that they shared. Indeed, by looking
at their similarities and comparing their differences, we can gain a fuller sense
of what the chaplaincy entailed, particularly for its Catholic members.

Clarification of Terms and the National/Sectional Context

First, it is necessary to make a few comments on the distinction between
North and South, as well as between sectionalism and nationalism, during the
Civil War. Throughout this article, Catholics in the North and South are discussed as trying to assert their legitimacy as “Americans.” Such terminology,
it can be argued, obfuscates the differences between the North and the South,
and

fails

to

note

that

Unionists

fought

for

a

nationalist

cause,

whereas

Confederates fought for local and State interests—or perhaps for a sectional
one. Although these objections certainly have a degree of merit, it is more
accurate to characterize the Civil War as a national conflict on both sides. This
view is supported by books such as John McCardell’s The Idea of

a Southern

Nation, which traces the development of Southern nationalist ideology in the
decades leading up to the Civil War, and Emory Thomas’s The Confederate
Nation, which continues to trace the development of Southern nationalism
9

through the course of the war.

Additionally, although the South seceded due to sectional concerns (which
became national), it held fast to its Americanism. Both North and South
looked to the same founding fathers as role models of government and as
their political guides. Northerners indeed fought to preserve the Union, but,
ultimately, the purpose of secession was not to destroy America, but to restore
it. After the war, the efforts of both sides were reabsorbed into the singular
term “American.” Likewise, the efforts of Catholics became part of a greater
Catholic narrative. It is with this in mind that the term American is used
throughout this paper. It is not to ignore the differences between North and
South, but to respect the fact that, at least for the subject discussed, it ultimately is irrelevant.

9

John McCardell, The Idea of

a Southern Nation: Southern Nationalists and Southern Nationalism,

1830–1860 (New York, 1979); Emory M. Thomas, The Confederate Nation 1861–1865 (New York,
2011).

679

BY SEAN FABUN

The Outbreak of War and Displays of Patriotism

At the start of the Civil War American Catholics numbered around 3 million out of

the country’s total population of

about 30 million. The largest

concentration of Catholics was in the cities of the Northeast, where the bulk
of Irish Catholic immigrants settled. Of the 3 million American Catholics,
less than 1 million resided in the South, and these were largely concentrated
in coastal cities such as Savannah and New Orleans, and in frontier areas west
10

of the Mississippi River, where German Catholics had established farms.

When secession came, the bishops were initially reluctant to take a strong
political stand on the issue, especially in the South. But soon the bishops of
both North and South bid Catholics to follow their particular side in the conflict but also stressed the importance of remaining devout and loyal to the
11

Faith.

The bishops and clergy actively demonstrated their loyalty. In the

North

several

bishops

flew

the

American

flag

above

their

cathedrals.

Archbishop John Hughes of New York explained this action in relation to the
frequent persecution faced by American Catholics—he stated that public
opinion and enthusiasm soon would make the hanging of the flag a necessity.
Hughes felt that an insufficient display of patriotism would stir the flames of
anti-Catholicism:
. . . I preferred that no such dictation of necessity should overtake us; because, if
it had, the press would have sounded the report that Catholics were disloyal, and
12

no act of ours afterward could sufficiently vindicate us from the imputation.

Throughout the war, Hughes urged Catholics to serve in the Union Army,
13

and he was one of the first men to express support for a draft.

Some tried to frame their support of sectional institutions in terms that
were religious rather than political. Tissot, when criticized by a man with
Southern sympathies, “took him down a peg”: “I was sent by my superiors; I
14

take no part in politics, and seek only to save souls.”

In the South, Bishop

William Elder of Natchez changed a prayer for public authorities to one for
Southern authorities to acknowledge the founding of the Confederacy. When
Union forces took Natchez, they arrested the bishop. In petitioning for his

10

Dolan, The American Catholic Experience, pp. 137–38.

11

R. Miller, “Catholic Religion,” pp. 263–64; Rable, God’s Almost Chosen Peoples, pp. 45–46.

12

Blied, Catholics in the Civil War, p. 40.

13

James Hennesey, American Catholics: History of the Roman Catholic Community in the United States

(New York, 1981), p. 149.
14

Peter Tissot, “A Year with the Army of the Potomac,” Historical Records and Studies, 3, no. 1

(1903), 42–87, here 43.

680

CATHOLIC CHAPLAINS IN THE CIVIL WAR

release, Elder created an argument similar to that of Tissot and other mem15

bers of the Northern clergy: that he preached religion and not politics.
Many

of

the

chaplains

were

less

equivocal

in

their

sectional

feeling.

Throughout the war, Redemptorist priest Sheeran took every opportunity to
expound the righteousness of the Confederate cause. The Irish-born Bannon
likewise had strong Southern sympathies, as he saw the South’s struggle for
independence from the North as analogous to Ireland’s struggle against
16

England (see figure 1).
the

strength

months

after

and

Sheeran’s fellow Redemptorist, Smulders, revealed

persistence

General

of

Robert

his
E.

Southern

Lee’s

sympathy

surrender

at

when

he

wrote,

Appomattox,

that

Louisiana had “by a fair vote of all her people, for good reasons seceded from
17

the Union.”

In the Union army, the Jesuit Nash, preaching on the Feast of

the Immaculate Conception, took the opportunity to remind his audience
that the “Blessed Virgin Mary . . . is the Patroness of the United States.”

18

Southern bishops, no less than their flag-flying counterparts in the North,
saw an opportunity for Catholics to show their patriotism and to gain acceptance as an American religion. The majority of them either supported secession and the Confederacy, or at least accepted both as reality, although they
did not view the Church as responsible for the situation of rebellion. In a pastoral letter of 1861, Bishop John Quinlan of Mobile lamented the misery of
the times, but urged Catholics to take joy in the knowledge that their Church
had “implanted no hostile conviction, encouraged no adverse feeling,” and
that “those whom she has commissioned to teach have never spoken but
19

words of benediction.”

The Church’s official silence on the institution of

slavery (as opposed to the slave trade) ingratiated it somewhat to Southerners
and further allowed Southern bishops to focus blame for the conflict on
20

Northern Protestant fanatics.

Bishops in the North and South urged Catholics in their dioceses to support their particular faction, and many Catholics served on one side or the

15

Hennesey, American Catholics, pp. 56–59.

16

William Barnaby Faherty, Exile in Erin: A Confederate Chaplain’s Story, The Life of

Father John

B. Bannon (St. Louis, 2002), p. 43.
17

Brooklyn, NY, Redemptorist Archives of the Baltimore Province (hereafter RABP), Civil

War Chaplains: Smulders, Aegidius Smulders, “Letter about His Work as a Chaplain in the United
States Civil War” (emphasis added).
18

Michael Nash, “Letters from a Chaplain in the War of 1861,” Woodstock Letters, 19 (1890),

22–41, 154–63, here 22–23 (emphasis in original).
19

Quoted in Blied, Catholics and the Civil War, p. 59.

20

Blied, Catholics and the Civil War, p. 69; John Tracy Ellis, American Catholicism (Chicago, 1956),

pp. 87–91.

681

BY SEAN FABUN

FIGURE 1. Confederate chaplain John Bannon, who joined the Society of Jesus in
1865. Photograph reproduced by permission of the Irish Jesuit Archives, Dublin.

other over the course of the war. However, although military policy had officially allowed Catholic priests to serve as chaplains since the Mexican War, the
level of

persistent hostility toward Catholics rendered the receipt of

such

appointments difficult from a practical standpoint. Protestant officers, even
those with Catholics in their units, rarely accepted a Catholic as their chaplain.
Generally, only those units with a majority of Catholics would be assigned a
21

Catholic chaplain, and this left most Catholic soldiers without a priest.

Shorthanded and Overworked: Traveling Chaplains
Catholic chaplains faced many difficulties besides discrimination. Like
chaplains of other denominations, they often served in a clerical capacity for
many of their men: Nash, for example, described how “[m]en come to me at
22

all hours . . . to read and write letters.”

Perhaps their most common role out-

side

help

of

their

spiritual

duties

was

to

soldiers

manage

their

money.

Chaplains sent funds to soldiers’ families or served as a banker. McAtee’s letters frequently included soldiers’ pay and instructions as to how the monies
should be distributed. O’Hagan kept a record of the deposits he held for sol-

21

R. Miller, “Catholic Religion,” pp. 264–66; Gardiner Shattuck, A Shield and a Hiding Place:

The Religious Lives of

Civil War Armies (Macon, GA, 1987), pp. 54–55.

22

Michael Nash, “Letters from a Chaplain in the War of 1861,” Woodstock Letters, 17 (1888),

12–29, 135–49, 269–87, here 269.

682

CATHOLIC CHAPLAINS IN THE CIVIL WAR

FIGURE 2. Union Army chaplain Joseph B. O’Hagan, S.J., c. 1855. Photograph reproduced by permission of the Georgetown University Archives, Washington, DC.

23

diers in various regiments (see figure 2).

Likewise, it was the habit of

Cooney to return to Indiana after paydays and personally distribute soldiers’
pay

to

their

24

families.

Tissot

summarized

the

situation

well,

explaining,

“Some one had to take the money packages to the express office … and the
men would hardly trust another besides the Chaplain.” He later recalled that,
in two years of service as an army chaplain, “I brought thousands of pack25

ages to the express.”

But chaplains served primarily to tend the religious needs of soldiers, and
that took precedence over other matters. The Catholic Church recognized
more sacraments than did the Protestant faiths, and, accordingly, the Catholic
chaplains

had

more

to

accomplish

in

fulfilling

their

spiritual

duties.

Confession was a particularly important sacrament, unique to Catholics, that
required a great deal of chaplains’ time. In addition, Catholic chaplains oversaw various other aspects of spiritual life such as distributing rosaries, medals,

23

Washington,

DC,

Georgetown

Univ.

Lib.,

Francis

McAtee

Papers,

Maryland

Province

Archives of the Society of Jesus, Box 10, Folders 4, 6, 7, 8; Washington, DC, Georgetown Univ.
Lib., Joseph B. O’Hagan Papers, Maryland Province Archives of the Society of Jesus, Box 10,
Folder 10.
24

Dom Aidan Henry Germain, “Catholic Military and Naval Chaplains 1776–1917” (PhD

diss., The Catholic University of America, 1929), p. 63.

683

BY SEAN FABUN

and prayer books, as well as the blessing of objects. In one striking example,
26

Nash actually was asked to bless a cannon before a battle.

One final goal for

Catholic chaplains was conversion. Although this was secondary to ministering to existing Catholics, it nevertheless was important, because an increase in
numbers was one of the most tangible ways to strengthen the Church and to
gain acceptance.
Perhaps the greatest challenge to the Catholic Church, however, was finding sufficient priests to serve as chaplains. Even before the outbreak of the
war, the Catholic Church faced a shortage of priests, so it often was difficult
to reassign priests to positions as regimental chaplains, even when they were
willing. Indeed, due to the general shortage of priests, regimental chaplains
were sometimes withdrawn from their military appointments when their bishops felt that there was a greater need of their services within the dioceses.
The

scarcity

of

Catholic

chaplains

was

compounded

by

the

exertion

required by the job. Because chaplains marched, traveled, and camped with
their units, they were subject to the same fatigue and sickness as the soldiers.
The rigors of military life proved to be too much for many of the older men
who volunteered as chaplains. The Irish Brigade of the Union Army provides
a good example of

the dearth of

Catholic chaplains throughout the war.

Although each of the brigade’s five regiments had their own chaplain at some
point in the war, there were rarely more than two present at any one time, and
frequently there was only one: Corby of the Congregation of the Holy Cross
(see figure 3). At one point in 1863 Corby was not only the lone priest
assigned to the Irish Brigade, he was the only Catholic priest serving as a
chaplain in the entire Army of

27

the Potomac.

The scarcity was equally as

prevalent in the Confederacy: Bannon was the only full-time Catholic chap28

lain in the entire western theater of the war.
Gillen circumvented the difficulties of

receiving an appointment as a

chaplain by not seeking one. Believing that a federal commission would
hinder his work by confining him to one unit, Gillen became a wandering
priest, traveling in a flat-bottomed, horse-drawn wagon in which he kept his
supplies: blankets, provisions, a chapel tent, and a folding altar. Gillen roamed
from one regiment to the next, always seeking out Catholics who lacked a reg-

25

Tissot, “A Year with the Army of the Potomac,” pp. 46, 67.

26

Michael Nash, “Letters from a Chaplain in the War of 1861,” Woodstock Letters, 18 (1889),

3–23, 153–68, 319–32, here 157, 161–62.
27

William Corby, Memoirs of

Chaplain Life: Three Years with the Irish Brigade in the Army of

Potomac (New York, 1992), p. xv.
28

Faherty, Exile in Erin, p. 117.

the

684

CATHOLIC CHAPLAINS IN THE CIVIL WAR

FIGURE 3. Catholic chaplains and others from the Irish Brigade, Union Army, at
Harrison’s Landing, VA, in July 1862. Back row, left to right: Patrick Dillon, C.S.C.; Dr.
Philip O’Hanlon. Front row, left to right: Captain J. J. McCormick; James Dillon,
C.S.C.; and William Corby, C.S.C. Photo by Alexander Gardner. Library of Congress,
Prints and Photographs Division, reproduction no. LC-DIG cwpb-00280.

ular priest. Wherever he found such a group, he would pitch his tent and set
up camp. Over the next few days, he would hear confessions and celebrate
Mass, then strike his tent and continue wandering. Over time, he learned
which units did not have a Catholic chaplain and visited them regularly. His
unofficial status did cause him occasional trouble, however, as officers and
hospital officials sometimes demanded that he remove himself
premises of

from the

camp. Eventually, General Ulysses S. Grant had occasion to

encounter Gillen and, disliking the priest’s appearance and mode of

trans-

port, had him arrested and sent away. Shortly thereafter, Gillen accepted a
commission with a regiment in the Corcoran Legion and served with the reg29

iment for the remainder of the war.

Gillen was not the only priest to act as

an unofficial chaplain, as long periods of time could pass between a chaplain’s
enrollment in the army and his formal muster into service: Bannon had traveled with the 1st Missouri Confederate Brigade for more than a year without
an official appointment and his bishop’s sanction when his commission was

29

Corby, Memoirs of

Chaplain Life, pp. 307–11; Notre Dame, IN, University of Notre Dame

Archives (hereafter referred to as UNDA), Paul Gillen Papers; Germain, “Catholic Military and
Naval Chaplains,” p. 49.

685

BY SEAN FABUN

finally granted in February 1863, and McAtee likewise spent more than a year
30

with the 31st New York Infantry before he was mustered into service.

To compensate for their lack of numbers, a Catholic chaplain assigned to
one unit often traveled to visit nearby units to minister to Catholics without
a Catholic chaplain of their own. These trips would range from a few days or
weeks to months. During Tissot’s first five months with the Army of
31

Potomac, he visited at least one other regiment each month.

the

Occasionally,

chaplains would even cross into enemy territory to minister to the sick and
wounded. Likewise, Catholic soldiers would travel to other units when they
desired the services of a priest; most commonly, at least among Union soldiers, they would go to the Irish Brigade, which had the services of at least
32

one priest for the entirety of the war.

Although Catholic chaplains experienced similar difficulties and shared
many of the same goals with regards to the soldiers under their care, they
were far from uniform in the manifestation of these goals and in the organization and operation of their ministries. Some chaplains focused most on the
sacraments—baptism,

confession,

and

Communion—whereas

others

felt

that the elimination of vice was of paramount importance so that Catholics
could demonstrate themselves as good Americans through displays of virtue
and temperance. One issue keenly felt by nearly all the Catholic chaplains was
the prejudice that many Protestants harbored toward them.
One of the great weapons for combating that prejudice during the war was
preaching. Catholic chaplains would invite the Protestants in their regiments,
or in nearby regiments, to Sunday services, and, although Protestants could
not take Communion at a Catholic Mass, many would attend to hear the
sermon. Protestants who attended often were surprised by the eloquence of
Catholic clergy, and many of the illusions they held regarding Catholics and
Catholicism were dispelled. Sheeran, for example, made a point to invite
Protestants to listen whenever he preached, and they frequently approached
him following his sermons, asking him to return and preach for them again.
Word of his ability as a preacher must have spread through Protestant circles,
because on August 16, 1863, he recorded a meeting with Protestant chaplain

30

Phillip Thomas Tucker, The Confederacy’s Fighting Chaplain: Father James B. Bannon (Tuscaloosa,

AL, 1992), pp. 23–24, 99–100; Faherty, Exile in Erin, pp. 39–40; Francis McAtee, “Reminiscences
of an Army Chaplain in the Civil War,” Woodstock Letters, 44 (1915), 72–76; Germain, “Catholic
Military and Naval Chaplains,” pp. 81–82.
31

Tissot, “Year with the Army of the Potomac,” pp. 47–52.

32

Faherty, Exile in Erin, pp. 46–47; Tucker, The Confederacy’s Fighting Chaplain, pp. 91–92; Corby,

Memoirs of

Chaplain Life, p. 21.

686

CATHOLIC CHAPLAINS IN THE CIVIL WAR

B. Tucker Lacy, in which Sheeran’s reputation clearly preceded him. Sheeran
wrote that, after offering him a seat, Lacy “very modestly loaded me with
praises,” and:
. . . Told me what he had heard of . . . my attention to my men, my success in controlling them, and the high estimation in which I was held by the Generals of the
army, how much my brother chaplains spoke of my energy and attention to busi33

ness, how much the Protestant bishop of Richmond eulogized me etc.

Cooney, chaplain of the 35th Indiana, also recorded that “Protestants attend sermons by thousands in the open field” and that their “prejudice to the Church is
34

gone almost entirely.”

Sheeran recorded after one of his sermons that “[o]ne

of the Protestant officers expressed his intention of becoming a Catholic,” an
35

intention that was a most tangible expression of lessening prejudices.

Administration of the Sacraments
The most fundamental and important duty for a Catholic chaplain was the
administration of the sacraments of the Church, particularly baptism, confession, and Communion. In his memoirs, Corby described a chaplain’s duties
in camp, saying that he and his colleagues “spent our time in much the same
way as parish priests do. . . . We celebrated Mass, heard confessions, preached
36

on Sundays and holydays.”

During and after battles chaplains would look for

Catholics on battlefields and in hospitals , hearing confessions and preparing
the wounded for death. They also would give comfort to mortally wounded
soldiers outside the Faith, offering to baptize and save them. The same held
true in field hospitals. Smulders recalled baptism in the hospitals as a major
part of his ministry, writing, “We may average the number (of hospital bap37

tisms) to five or six per day.”

Even if

Smulders’s estimate is inflated, it

reflects the prevalence of baptism in his duties, as well as the importance he
attached to the sacrament.
That the chaplains considered baptism to be of great importance is clear
from the number and tone of
baptism was one of

baptism stories they recorded. For Cooney,

his greatest sources of

fulfillment as a chaplain. In

Cooney’s letters to his brother, Owen, he frequently mentioned the baptisms
he performed. On one occasion Cooney wrote of

meeting an Irish family

33

Sheeran, A War Journal, p. 52.

34

UNDA, Peter Paul Cooney Papers (hereafter referred to as PPCP), CCOO 2/01, Diary

entry, April 26, 1864.
35

Sheeran, A War Journal, p. 77.

36

Corby, Memoirs of

37

Chaplain Life, pp. 27–28.

Smulders, “Letter about His Work as a Chaplain,” RABP.

687

BY SEAN FABUN

during a visit to Nashville. He described baptizing several of their children
38

and stated that he left them feeling “really edified by their piety.”

Cooney also wrote of men he had baptized before their execution, and one
man who, after witnessing Cooney say High Mass, approached him and asked to
become a Catholic: “I prepared him for baptism which he received in the most
39

perfect disposition a few days after.”

Of all the baptisms he performed during

the war, Cooney was most proud of one in particular—that of General David
40

Sloane Stanley.

Cooney wrote to his brother that “[Stanley] is now a most fer-

vent Catholic & his example is powerful over the men of

41

his command.”

Stanley subsequently became a regular subject of Cooney’s letters and journal.
The letters of Père Louis-Hippolyte Gache provide another example of
how baptism fit into the chaplains’ views of

their duties. Gache baptized

many soldiers he encountered, considering it a duty of

paramount impor-

tance. He often wrote about visiting Protestant communities, speculating that
if

there was a single Catholic home “around which a priest might build a

parish. . . . I feel sure that it would not be long before one could have a size42

able congregation.”

But he also felt that he had other responsibilities that

took precedence; in another letter he lamented:
Perhaps I myself could have been instrumental in this conversion, as well as in the
conversions of three or four others in the region, if only I had stayed at Danville,
. . . But Divine Providence had other plans for me, and there is no point in think43

ing about it further.

Tissot likewise regretted lost opportunities for conversion, and expressed joy
44

and satisfaction when he heard stories of the baptisms of new Catholics.

The easy narrative of Corby’s memoir provides a quite descriptive account
of one soldier’s baptism and particularly of that soldier’s reaction. The soldier,

Adam,

was

condemned

to

execution

for

desertion.

Although

a

38

PPCP, UNDA, CCOO 1/03, Cooney to Owen Cooney, April 10, 1862.

39

PPCP, UNDA, CCOO 1/04, Cooney to Owen Cooney, June 11, 1863.

40

Stanley was born in Cedar Valley, Ohio, on June 1, 1828. He graduated from West Point in

1852 and died a major general in the U.S. Army in 1902. James Spencer, ed., Civil War Generals:
Categorical Listings and a Biographical Directory (New York, 1986), p. 288. For a summary of his activity in the Civil War, see John T. Hubbell and James W. Geary, eds., Biographical Dictionary of
Union: Northern Leaders of

the

the Civil War (Westport, CT, 1995), pp. 497–98.

41

PPCP, UNDA, CCOO 1/05, Cooney to Owen Cooney, April 26, 1864.

42

Cornelius M. Buckley, trans., A Frenchman, a Chaplain, a Rebel: The War Letters of

Hippolyte Gache, S.J. (Chicago, 1981), pp. 74–75.
43

Buckley, A Frenchman, p. 145.

44

Tissot, “Year with the Army of the Potomac,” pp. 61–62.

Pere Louis-

688

CATHOLIC CHAPLAINS IN THE CIVIL WAR

Protestant chaplain was ministering to the soldier, Corby also went to him.
After some discussion, Corby determined that Adam had never been baptized, and so, after confirming his faith, Corby baptized him a Catholic.
Corby’s memoir recalls, “For the first time I noticed a genuine softening of
his disposition, as the light of faith, secured to him by the sacrament, seemed
45

to show in his countenance.”

It is important to note that, although baptism was pleasing to the chaplains
for its effect of promoting Catholicism, it was even more important to them for
its end of saving men’s souls. As such, the joy and satisfaction baptism brought
chaplains was offset by the sorrow they felt when men died without receiving
the sacrament. Edward Sorin, a priest from the University of

Notre Dame,

lamented in a letter to Corby, “Oh what a distressing thought of how many dear
souls will be thus abandoned without sacraments and will perish and go to
46

hell.”

Likewise, Cooney, in his journal, expressed dismay over a dying soldier

who, rather than embracing God on his deathbed, “continually profaned the
holy name of God shocking those around him by his blasphemies.” Cooney’s
47

sorrow is succinctly expressed as he finished, “He died in that horrible state.”

Given the importance of baptism to Catholics, the Catholic chaplains were
at times shocked by their Protestant counterparts, who seemed, at times, dismissive of the sacrament. Cooney described one incident:
There were three protestant chaplains in the same tent with me and there was no
effort on their part to baptize or do for the dying what was absolutely necessary to
make them Christians. They sometimes talked of the “mercy of Jesus” as if we
could dispense with the necessity of receiving that sacrament which he has made
a necessary condition to enter heaven, when it is possible to receive it, as was in
48

this case. And yet they claimed to be Christian ministers!

In his account of baptizing Adam, Corby shows himself as equally surprised.
The Protestant minister who was attending Adam gave little beyond “Have
faith and you shall be saved” and showed no inclination to have the man baptized. Corby’s suggestion that they baptize Adam was met with a scornful
49

reply that “all that is necessary is to be baptized in the Holy Ghost [faith].”

Corby baptized Adam, but was nevertheless shocked at the lack of reverence
for the sacrament shown by the Protestant minister.

45

Corby, Memoirs of

Chaplain Life, pp. 122–27.

46

William Corby Papers, UNDA, CCOR 1/03, Edward Sorin to William Corby, March 10,

1864.
47

PPCP, UNDA, CCOO 2/01, Diary entry, June 30, 1864.

48

PPCP, UNDA, CCOO 2/01, Diary entry, July 4, 1864, emphasis in original.

49

Corby, Memoirs of

Chaplain Life, p. 125.

689

BY SEAN FABUN

Baptism was the sacrament that most directly enhanced the Church’s
status in America because it increased the Church’s numbers. Additionally, the
baptism of

a soldier promoted the acceptance of

Catholicism because it

prompted the soldier’s family and friends to reconsider their prejudices, as
otherwise they risked expelling the convert from their lives. Bannon, for
example, recalled that after he baptized a dying soldier in a field hospital, the
man’s brother approached him and said, “Mister . . . I should like to be a
Catholic too, if you will have me. If you will only teach me all about it, I will
be

thankful

to

you

50

forever.”

Gache

wrote

of

another

soldier,

George

Spotswood, whose father was a doctor. Although Dr. Spotswood initially was
reluctant to turn his son over to Catholics, the nursing skills of Catholic nuns
convinced him to entrust his son to their care. When George converted to
Catholicism, his father opposed it, yet learned to accept his son’s decision and
faith. Gache explained how the doctor’s views had been tempered: “He is not
so upset anymore about George’s becoming a Catholic, and he no longer
51

heckles him about practicing his religion.”

But although baptism was a

major tool in promoting and expanding Catholicism, the other sacraments
were most important for the care of existing Catholics.

Of

these, the hearing of

confessions was perhaps a Catholic chaplain’s

most time-consuming task during the Civil War, because confession related to
nearly all their other duties. Days and nights in camp would be occupied by
hearing the confessions of soldiers who wished to take Communion the next
day, and their trips to other units and encampments would be spent doing the
same. Preparing the wounded for death also involved confession, as most
Catholics would wish to confess on their deathbed, so as to be best prepared
for heaven. For this reason, unless a convert was on the brink of death, chaplains would listen to his confession before giving him Communion.

There was some disagreement among chaplains as to how best to serve the
men of the army during battle. Many of the chaplains felt compelled to wade
through the fallen as the battle raged, searching for dying or wounded soldiers,

hearing

the

confessions

of

the

Catholics,

and

baptizing

those

Protestants who wished it. The rationale was that the need of the wounded
in battle was greatest, and therefore that was where chaplains should attend.
Nash explained: “If the chaplains wish to bring spiritual succor to the fallen,
52

they must go into the thick of the fight.”

Bannon, who would continue to

50

Faherty, Exile in Erin, pp. 112–13; Tucker, The Confederacy’s Fighting Chaplain, pp. 142–43.

Tucker’s book has the dying man’s brother addressing Bannon as “Minister.”
51

Buckley, A Frenchman, pp. 110–11.

52

Nash, “Letters from a Chaplain” [1890], p. 155.

690

CATHOLIC CHAPLAINS IN THE CIVIL WAR

be praised for his conduct in battle for decades after the war, stated the case
more forcefully:
I am doing God’s work, and He has no use for cowards and skulkers. A Catholic
priest must do his duty and never consider the time or place. If I am killed, I am
53

not afraid to meet my fate.

On the other hand, Tissot offered a more restrained and utilitarian view of
the chaplain’s role. He considered attitudes like those of Bannon, Nash, and
many others to be short-sighted and irresponsible. Reckless displays by chaplains such as running about the battlefield, he opined, “should never be
done.” Rather, a chaplain’s place was in the hospital, where the wounded
would be consolidated, and a chaplain could be safe from stray bullets—not,
however, to preserve his own skin. It was a chaplain’s responsibility to his
men, Tissot argued,
[to] expose himself as little as possible. If he does expose himself he may be of
service to a few . . . but if in doing so he is killed, he will deprive numbers of others
54

of his services after battle.

Regardless of the view held by a particular chaplain, it did not seem to affect
the respect he commanded among his men, although those who waded into
battle were more likely to be noticed and praised by their officers.
Although hearing confessions was one of

the most important duties of

Catholic chaplains, non-Catholics rarely saw or noticed its prevalence in the
chaplains’ ministries. There was, however, another aspect of the sacrament of
penance that Protestants did see and that they greatly admired—the act of
general

absolution.

Corby’s

general

absolution

before

the

battle

of

Gettysburg has become a celebrated event in Civil War memory—there is a
monument to the man and the event near Gettysburg. Major General St. Clair
Mulholland described the scene as the Irish Brigade prepared for battle on the
morning of July 2, 1863:
. . . the Chaplain of the brigade, Rev. William Corby, proposed to give general absolution to all the men before going into the fight . . . It was perhaps the first time
[this ceremony] was ever witnessed on this continent . . . Father Corby stood on a
large rock in front of the brigade. Addressing the men, he explained what he was
about to do, saying that each one of them could receive the benefit of the absolution by making a sincere Act of Contrition and firmly resolving to embrace the
first opportunity of confessing his sins . . . As he closed his address, every man,

53

John Bannon, in Tucker, The Confederacy’s Fighting Chaplain, p. 47.

54

Tissot, “Year with the Army of the Potomac,” pp. 68–69.

691

BY SEAN FABUN

Catholic and non-Catholic, fell on his knees with his head bowed down. Then,
stretching his right hand toward the brigade, Father Corby pronounced the words
of absolution.

55

Corby himself was surprised by the scope of his words’ effect:

I noticed that all, Catholic and Protestant, officers and private soldiers showed a
profound respect, wishing at this fatal crisis to receive every benefit of divine grace
56

that could be imparted through the instrumentality of the Church ministry.

The act of general absolution overcame sectarian divisions and gave comfort
to men of

diverse faiths. In this way, men who previously may have been

scornful of Catholicism were able to see and even experience it firsthand in
a way that broke down their prejudices.

Mulholland’s assertion that Corby’s absolution at Gettysburg was the first
such ceremony performed on the American continent was, although romantic, incorrect. Although Corby’s general absolution was perhaps the largest
and is certainly the most widely celebrated, it was not the first time such a ceremony had been performed on the continent or even during the Civil War.
Writing to his brother on January 12, 1863, half

a year before Gettysburg,

Cooney described giving general absolution to his regiment during the battle
at Murfreesboro:

Every morning before the battle would commence (for there were five days of
fighting) I would come out before the regiment drawn up in line of battle, & after
offering a prayer, making an act of contrition, all repeating with me, I gave absolution to them while kneeling.

The letter then provides an example of the effect of Cooney’s general absolution—one Protestant general “was so edified with our example that he sent
an order to the protestant chaplains to do the same (poor fellows what could
57

they do).”

Nor were these isolated events. Even earlier in the war, O’Hagan pro58

nounced general absolution for his men in May 1862;

and for Bannon and

Tissot, general absolution was almost routine. Bannon described listening to
confessions all night before a battle. He related:

55

Quoted in Corby, Memoirs of

56

Corby, Memoirs of

Chaplain Life, pp. 181–84.

Chaplain Life, p. 184, emphasis in original.

57

PPCP, UNDA, CCOO 1/04, Cooney to Owen Cooney, June 12, 1863.

58

“Obituary. Father Joseph B. O’Hagan,” Woodstock Letters, 8 (1879), 178–79.

692

CATHOLIC CHAPLAINS IN THE CIVIL WAR

Then as the day dawned and the troops were drawn out, I would go along the line,
and hear the men as they stood in the ranks, and when the time came for advancing, I made a sign for them all to kneel, and gave them absolution in globo. I then
59

went to the second line, or the reserve, till it was their turn to advance.

Tissot’s practice was to pronounce absolution as the men marched past him
60

into battle.

Thus, general absolution was a recurring event in the Civil War,

performed by chaplains on both sides, which gave comfort to Catholics and
often awed Protestants.

The Promotion of Moral Discipline

In addition to administering the sacraments and nurturing their men’s spiritual lives, Catholic chaplains felt responsible for the moral character of their
men. This was important for helping the men live virtuous lives, preparing
them for heaven, and molding them into living examples of Catholic virtue
for the world to see. Not all chaplains approached this issue with the same
zeal, but those who were particularly vocal on virtue and morality often held
great influence over their men. Chaplains pursued this charge in very different ways—some through eloquent speech, others through humble example,
and still others through aggressive admonishments.

Many chaplains founded temperance societies to encourage moral behavior in their men. Corby wrote in his memoir about James Dillon, C.S.C., chaplain of the 63rd New York, who was determined to protect his men from the
vices

of

camp,

particularly

drunkenness

(see

figure

3).

One

Sunday

in

November 1861 he addressed his congregation on the subject of temperance.
He singled out those of Irish extraction, who composed the majority of his
regiment, challenging them to “[s]how me an Irish Catholic who is not
addicted to the vice of

drunkenness, and I will find a good citizen of

the

Republic.” His warning continued:

Give me an abstainer from the cup that inebriates, and I will show you an obedient, brave soldier willing to die for the flag. History is full of incidents where ignominious defeat has followed dearly-bought victory, owing to the indulgence in
strong drink.

Dillon continued to inspire, next fanning the soldiers’ cultural pride:

59

Bannon, in Faherty, Exile in Erin, p. 87.

60

Tissot, “Year with the Army of the Polomac,” pp. 68, 87.

693

BY SEAN FABUN

. . . It is my honest opinion that the Irish Brigade, to which you will be attached
. . . will always be the van, in the post of danger, the post of honor. It has ever
been thus. It is a tribute to your Irish valor, and you should be proud of it.
Go, then, to the front as temperate men. If you do, you will be equal to all emergencies. I will give you an opportunity to be temperate soldiers, for I propose this
very day—now and here—to organize a temperance society for the war.
How many will join it? Let every officer and man present do so, and God will
bless you!

According

to

Corby’s

account,

every

officer

and

enlisted

man

present

61

answered his call and joined Dillon’s temperance society.

Cooney also founded a temperance society within his regiment, which was
bolstered in influence by the newly baptized General Stanley who served as
62

vice-president of the society.

In addition to forming the temperance society,

Cooney often preached about the importance of leading a virtuous and moral
life. In one sermon, Cooney told a story about a soldier whom the army sentenced to death by hanging for killing a farmer. The soldier bemoaned his
misfortune and blamed his sad end on keeping “bad company” and the “ter63

rible habit of drinking.”

Some temperance societies were less successful. In January 1862, Tissot
organized the Altar Society, which he believed could encourage attention to
the sacraments and moral behavior. The fourth rule of the society explicitly
required members to “[r]efrain from drunkenness, profane language, and
improper conversation.” Although the initial response was positive—the soci64

ety numbered 223 members after its first week—“it hardly increased after.”

In sharp contrast to the inspirational tone of
warning was the approach of

Dillon or Cooney’s quiet

chaplains such as Sheeran and McAtee, who

would bully men into behaving appropriately through sheer force of

will.

McAtee recalled after the war that, “[o]n paydays, when King Alcohol oftentimes vanquished Mars . . . I made myself Chief of Police. My orders too
65

were more strictly enforced than the commands of the officers.”

Sheeran

once came upon some drunk soldiers who were imbibing whiskey out of a
canteen. Sheeran, who was on horseback, asked if

he might have a nip to

warm his cold bones. When the fellow reluctantly handed over the canteen,

61

Quoted in Corby, Memoirs of

Chaplain Life, pp. 291–92, emphasis in original.

62

PPCP, UNDA, CCOO 2/01, Diary entry, April 26, 1864.

63

PPCP, UNDA, CCOO 1/04, Cooney to Owen Cooney, February 13, 1863.

64

Tissot, “Year with the Army of the Potomac,” p. 56.

65

McAtee, “Reminiscences of an Army Chaplain,” p. 77.

694

CATHOLIC CHAPLAINS IN THE CIVIL WAR

Sheeran put spurs to his horse, advising the men to return to their tents as he
66

rode off with the liquor.

On another occasion, Sheeran stumbled upon a

group of soldiers gambling, a practice that he had strictly prohibited in camp:
Unobserved I advanced to the crowd and . . . beheld two groups with cards in hand
and countenances very serious. Between them was a pile of bills containing [one
hundred and fifty dollars] . . . Slowly I bent forward until within reach of

the

money, when by well directed grasp I secured some $60 of the stakes besides a part
of two other bills. The gamblers, not knowing who was there, made use of rough
exclamation, but finding out who it was took to their heels amid the shouts and
laughter of the whole camp. This money I afterwards gave to the orphans of St.
Joseph in Richmond.

67

Despite Sheeran’s stern and direct enforcement of his strict moral code, he
was clearly popular and respected by his men. When he felt that they were letting their reverence and duty to God wane or fade, he would call the entire regiment together and deliver a speech on his disappointment. He would tell them
that because of their misconduct, or because of their poor showing at Mass,
he “could no longer, with any regard for my reputation as a priest, remain asso68

ciated with such men.”

Invariably, the men would respond to Sheeran’s

threats with redoubled efforts at temperance or improved attendance at Mass.
Late

in

the

war,

Sheeran

crossed

into

Union

Confederate soldiers wounded in the battle of

territory

to

minister

to

Winchester. Federal troops

arrested him and confined him to a military prison. Although he characterized
his fellow prisoners as “the hardest-looking specimens of humanity I had ever
69

seen,” he remained unflinching in his demand for virtue.

After learning that

one prisoner who had shown appalling conduct was a Catholic, he demanded
an audience with the whole group of

prisoners. After a stern lecture by

Sheeran, the prisoners promised to behave better and to abide by his rules:
I told them I did not wish to deprive them of

harmless recreation and if

they

wished to play a game of cards for amusement I would not object, but there would
70

be no swearing; at 9 o’clock the lights must be out and all go to rest.

Once he had earned the respect of the prisoners, one of them (a Protestant,
Sheeran noted) requested that he preach for them, and he began to do so
regularly.

71

66

Sheeran, A War Journal, pp. 37–38.

67

Sheeran, A War Journal, p. 35.

68

Sheeran, A War Journal, p. 50.

69

Sheeran, A War Journal, p. 121.

70

Sheeran, A War Journal, pp. 121–23.

71

Sheeran, A War Journal, p. 129.

695

BY SEAN FABUN

Sheeran’s account gives the impression that moral enforcement by chaplains was as simple and straightforward as forcefully announcing the will of
God. In actuality, it was a great deal more difficult, at least for most of the
chaplains discussed here. The fact was that the spiritual lives of men in the
Civil War were not steady or absolute—for most soldiers, their faith was
marked by peaks and valleys depending on their origins, personal inclinations,
experiences before and during the war, as well as the actions and reactions of
their families and colleagues. Nash, in a letter of February 12, 1862, stated the
case with more candor and understanding than most of his contemporaries:

But armies are composed of every kind of people . . . Some are fiends from whom
no good can be hoped . . . others are invincibly good; others again good but weak.
They fear God and his judgments principally before battle; but with the battle pass
away all thoughts of eternity, till danger again looms up in the gleam of hostile
72

camp-fires.

Nash recognized that he could never force the unwilling to a life of virtue.
Rather than hope for it, he set himself as a guide to those who would have
one and prayed, “Let us hope . . . that those boys will use the means at hand
73

to ensure their fidelity in the service of God.”

A chaplain’s responsibility to his men’s moral well-being did not always
manifest in a negative “thou shall not” form, however. Sometimes chaplains
led their men in doing positive moral good. Such was the case with Tissot,
who, in June 1862 organized with his men “a collection for those whom the
battles of Williamsburg and Seven Pines had made orphans. . . . We raised . . .
74

over $30 for each child.”

Although recorded events like this one are rare in

the writings of the chaplains examined here, it seems unlikely that it would be
an entirely isolated experience.

Conscious Ambassadors of Catholic America

As they performed their duties and ministered to their flocks, Catholic
chaplains remained aware of

their role in shaping Catholic-Protestant rela-

tions. Catholic priests were concerned with their faith’s position on the fringe
of American society, just as they felt the deep prejudice of many Protestant
Americans. They saw in this war an opportunity to effect change and could
see the results of their labor as time progressed.

72

Nash, “Letters from a Chaplain” [1890], pp. 160–61.

73

Nash, “Letters from a Chaplain” [1890], p. 161.

74

Tissot, “Year with the Army of the Potomac,” p. 72.

696

CATHOLIC CHAPLAINS IN THE CIVIL WAR

Corby, like many others, was sensitive to Catholicism’s marginal position
in the country, and he was frustrated with “bigots who want only to take every
75

occasion to stir up animosity, quite unnecessarily, against Catholics.”

But as

aware as he was of the prejudice that existed, he also acknowledged progress.
Recalling the days after Gettysburg, Corby’s memoir tells of a Protestant soldier who approached Corby, asking to learn more of his religion: “I was present on that awful day, July 2, when you ‘made a prayer,’ and while I have often
witnessed ministers make prayers I have never witnessed one so powerful as
76

you made that day.”

Reflecting on that moment, Corby wrote, “One good
77

result of the Civil War was the removing of a great amount of prejudice.”

Indeed, many of the chaplains shared Corby’s view that the Civil War led
to a decline in sectarian hostility. Bannon described it most succinctly, writing,
“The

Catholic

chaplains
78

Catholic or not.”

were

much

respected

by

all

the

men,

whether

Other chaplains recorded anecdotes that illustrated the

growth of tolerance. Such is the case with Nash, whose letters describe, in
more or less theological terms, why so many Protestants were favorably
impressed. In one instance, he described the benefits of ministering to men
in hospitals: “These poor fellows see in Protestantism no sacraments for the
dying, no consolation for the soldier; and, above all, they see for poor soldiers
no forgiveness of

79

sins.”

Tissot’s diary offers another telling example, in

which a Protestant doctor made clear his displeasure with the ministry of
Protestant chaplains:
These chaplains are all humbugs; they had no service last Sunday, except the
Catholic chaplain, whom I saw preaching from a barrel. I am the brother of an
80

Episcopalian minister, but if I ever want to get religion I’ll apply to the Catholics.

This awareness of widespread prejudice against Catholics was common to most
Catholic chaplains in the Civil War; also present was the sense that the war was
offering an opportunity for them to battle and undermine those prejudices.
Few chaplains were more zealous ambassadors, however, than Gache.
Because he felt Catholicism’s minority status in America so keenly, Gache
always strove to leave a good impression with the Protestants he met during
his extensive travels. Gache’s letters often boast of his success in winning the
respect of

Protestants. He mentioned one Protestant who, after hearing

75

Chaplain Life, p. 66.

76

Chaplain Life, p. 185.

77

Chaplain Life, pp. 185–86.

Corby, Memoirs of

Corby, Memoirs of
Corby, Memoirs of

78

Bannon in Faherty, Exile in Erin, p. 87.

79

Nash, “Letters from a Chaplain” [1889], p. 154.

80

Tissot, “Year with the Army of the Potomac,” pp. 65–66.

697

BY SEAN FABUN

Gache’s sermon on baptism, commented, “I’ve listened to sermons preached
hundreds of

times on baptism, but I declare, I didn’t know what it really
81

meant until I heard that priest there explain it.”

Gache was clearly excited by

the positive change in popular opinion of Catholicism. His letters tell several
stories of

Protestants, particularly Confederate officials and their families,

who approached him to express their admiration for Catholicism. For example, General Joe E. Johnston made “no bones about his belief that Catholic
prayers are the only ones he has any confidence in,” and Johnston’s wife once
82

told Gache, “We’re Catholics already in our hearts.”

Preaching was one of the most direct means for Catholic chaplains to reach
Protestant soldiers. Accordingly, the chaplains were very conscious of Protestant
attendance and reactions when they delivered their sermons. Nash’s letters
repeatedly mention Protestant reactions to his sermons, and one occasion he
lamented what he considered a particularly poor sermon because, he said, “What
interest do non-Catholics take in the celebration of the Holy Sacrifice? They
83

want to hear the sermon.”

Writing about an Easter he had spent ministering to

the Catholics in another unit, Cooney recalled, “I preached every evening and
about 1,000 attended each time and not over 100 were Catholics in the Brigade”
(see figure 4). He noticed that his preaching for so many Protestants helped
remove the biases of Protestant soldiers against Catholicism, because, “Those
84

soldiers had never before heard any Catholic sermon.”
Cooney

also

bore

witness

to

the

remarkable

change

of

opinion

of

Brigadier General Walter C. Whitaker regarding Catholicism. Whitaker had
been a leader of the Know-Nothing party in Kentucky and had long opposed
Catholicism. Cooney saw Whitaker’s report of the battle before Nashville and
was stunned by what Whitaker had written about him. The report included
high praise for Cooney, who was described by Whitaker as “[m]eek, pious,
and brave as a lion.” Whitaker stated that Cooney “walked with his brave regiment . . . affording the ministrations of his holy religion to the wounded and
85

dying.”

Whitaker’s praise of

Cooney and reference to “his holy religion”

demonstrate a remarkable softening of tone and opinion from a man who
had been known for his intolerance and disdain for Catholics.
The actions and attitudes of

Catholic chaplains in the Civil War mim-

icked what Randall Miller describes as “the American Catholic policy of

81

Buckley, A Frenchman, pp. 143.

82

Buckley, A Frenchman, pp. 179–80.

83

Nash, “Letters from a Chaplain” [1890], p. 26.

84

PPCP, UNDA, CCOO 2/01, Diary entry, July 5, 1864.

85

PPCP, UNDA, CCOO 2/01, Diary entry, January 14, 1864.

698

CATHOLIC CHAPLAINS IN THE CIVIL WAR

FIGURE 4. Illustration produced c. 1877 of
Peter Paul Cooney, C.S.C., for the Army of

an Easter 1864 service conducted by
the Cumberland. Library of

Congress,

Prints and Photographs Division, reproduction no. LC-USZ62-100853.

avoiding political involvement while holding Catholics to their faith and
securing

Catholic

institutions.”

86

Just

as

the

Church

made

a

distinction

between the secular world of politics and the spiritual world of religion, so
did its preachers. Politically, most chaplains were passionate in their allegiance to a particular side, but when it came to spiritual and religious matters, the sections of

the temporal world disappeared. A Catholic was a

Catholic, which no disagreement over earthly issues could change. A man
was a man—a child of

God—no matter the color of

his uniform or his

nominal religious affiliation.
The early entries in Sheeran’s war journal, which record several meetings
between Sheeran and members of the federal forces, illustrate both his sectional ferocity and his religious inclusiveness. One afternoon in camp, Sheeran
conversed

with

a

wounded

federal

prisoner.

The

prisoner

attested

that,

although he was no fan of President Abraham Lincoln, he felt it was his duty
to fight to uphold the Constitution. Sheeran proceeded to lecture the prisoner
on why “Abe Lincoln has perjured himself by violating the Constitution since

86

R. Miller, “Catholic Religion,” p. 263.

699

BY SEAN FABUN

87

his introduction into office.”

In another episode, Sheeran encountered some

Catholic federal soldiers burying their dead. He stated, “On finding out who
I was [they] rejoiced to see me and seemed to forget for the moment that they
were in the hands of the enemy.” Of course, once their religious unity created a bridge between them, Sheeran began to lecture them, “disabusing their
minds of many wrong ideas they had entertained with regard to the war and
88

the people of the South.”

Corby’s recollection of the general absolution before Gettysburg reflects
the Catholic chaplains’ care for all humanity, regardless of faith or section.
“That general absolution,” he wrote, “was intended for all . . . not only for our
brigade, but for all, North or South, who were susceptible of it and who were
89

about to appear before their Judge.”

The attention of the Catholic chaplains

to all soldiers—Catholics and non-Catholics, Union and Confederate—did
not go unnoticed by Protestants. Whitaker’s tribute to Cooney stated that, as
the chaplain walked among the wounded of the battle of Nashville offering
the ministrations of religion and words of comfort, he did so “irrespective of
90

their previous faith.”

An account from one of Gache’s letters offers another poignant example
of the impartiality of the priests in their work. Gache recalled that after one
battle, he found no Catholics among the wounded of either army. He then
began assisting any wounded man he could. A young Virginian saw that he
was helping a Northern soldier to sit up and asked:
“Do you think these dogs deserve any pity?”
“I do indeed,” [Gache replied]. “When an enemy is vanquished and can no longer
do you harm, he is no longer an enemy; he is simply an unfortunate human being
who has a right to Christian charity. Besides, I’m a Catholic priest and my work
here doesn’t allow me to make a distinction between Yankees and boys from the
South. I see all men as redeemed by the blood of Jesus Christ. Believing this I can
91

hardly do otherwise than show sympathy to all and animosity to none.”

For Gache and the other chaplains, the differences and allegiances of faiths
and factions were obvious and real distinctions. But on a deeper level they saw
past those distinctions, realizing that a soul in need was a soul in need, regardless of religious denomination or sectional attachment. Gache’s letter goes on

87

Sheeran, A War Journal, p. 5.

88

Sheeran, A War Journal, p. 31.

89

Corby, Memoirs of

Chaplain Life, p. 184.

90

PPCP, UNDA, CCOO 2/01, Diary entry, January 14, 1864.

91

Buckley, A Frenchman, p. 131.

700

CATHOLIC CHAPLAINS IN THE CIVIL WAR

to relate how his words to the Virginian left the man much better disposed to
Catholicism and to Gache himself: “Now every time he sees me he gives me
92

a warm greeting and reminds me of the circumstances of our first meeting.”

Conclusion
At the outbreak of the Civil War, Catholicism was still a marginalized faith
in the United States. When the country split over sectional issues, the Catholic
Church as an institution took no position on the American Civil War. This
allowed the Church to avoid a potential schism, yet left individual Catholics
to follow their hearts and their particular side in the conflict.
At the same time, the hierarchy of the Church in America saw the turmoil
as an opportunity to promote acceptance for Catholicism by undermining the
prejudices against it, thereby establishing it as a genuinely American faith. The
bishops’ plan to execute this change relied mostly on example: in the North
they flew the U.S. flag at cathedrals, and in the South they altered prayers to
reflect their Confederate allegiance. Further, the bishops knew that a large
Catholic element in the armies—one that carried itself with dignity and performed well—would do much to help Catholics gain a place in America, and
they urged all enlisted Catholics to fight with courage and honor, so as to
reflect well upon their faith.
In addition to conducting themselves well on the battlefield and in camp,
also was important for Catholics to show the strength of

their faith—to

observe the sacraments and Catholic teachings. To answer this paramount
need, priests enlisted as chaplains in the army, in some cases at the behest of
their bishop but just as often of their own accord. Like the bishops, these
priests were conscious of prejudices against Catholicism, and they proved to
be active and influential in the gaining of

acceptance for Catholics. The

admirable dedication and zeal with which they approached their ministries, as
well as the passion and care with which they tended their men, impressed
many witnesses and did much to foster a better opinion of Catholicism in the
American public mind.
The personal worldviews of

the chaplains directly affected their opera-

tions during the war. For them, section and religious denomination were
worldly

choices

and

affiliations

(Catholicism

was

the

tr ue

religion;

Protestantism was seen as misguided or weakened faith). Because of this, they
were willing to open their services to any who needed them, regardless of

92

Buckley, A Frenchman, p. 132.

701

BY SEAN FABUN

their worldly affiliations. The push made by Catholic religious in the Civil War
toward the acceptance of Catholicism was echoed by many members of the
American Catholic hierarchy, yet the views of the bishops played only an incidental role in the chaplains’ work to gain that acceptance. In the chaplains’
view, educating those they encountered was an inherent part of their greater
responsibility to God and his people.

The actions of Catholic chaplains in the Civil War were hugely influential
in promoting the acceptance of

Catholics by Protestants in America. Full

acceptance was not immediate—following the war, groups such as the Ku
Klux Klan targeted Catholics, and elements of

nativism remained promi-

nent—but for many Americans there was improvement in popular opinions
toward Catholicism. The faith, kindness, and dedication of

the chaplains

made a favorable impression on the countless people who encountered them.
Because of their ministries, many converted to Catholicism, and many more
rejected their previously held prejudices. These chaplains laid the foundations
for the continued increase of Catholic acceptance, a trend that would continue for another century.

702

APPENDIX A: The Chaplains
Antebellum

Date and

Date of

Chaplain

Affiliation

Place of Birth

Death

Ordination

Regiment and Years

John Bannon

Archdiocese

December 29, 1829

July 14, 1913

May 1853

of St. Louis

Ireland

Congregation of the

1832

Holy Cross

Ireland

Enrolled
1st Missouri
Confederate Brigade
1862–63

Peter Paul Cooney

Louis-Hippolyte

Congregation of the

October 2, 1833

Holy Cross

Detroit, MI

Society of Jesus

Gache
Paul Gillen

June 18, 1817

1859

December 28, 1897

1860

October 8, 1907

March 28, 1846

Society of Jesus

10th Louisiana Volunteers
1861–65

Ireland

October 1882

1823, Pennsylvania

March 4, 1904

170th New York Infantry

Holy Cross
Francis McAtee

88th New York Infantry
1861–64

France
Congregation of the

35th Indiana Infantry
1861–65

1862–65
21st New York Infantry
1861–63

Michael Nash

Society of Jesus

1825

1895

6th New York Infantry
1861–62

Joseph B. O’Hagan

Society of Jesus

August 15, 1826

December 15, 1878

1861

Ireland
James Sheeran

Aegidius Smulders

Peter Tissot

Congregation of the

1819

Most Holy Redeemer

Ireland

Congregation of the

November 1, 1815

Most Holy Redeemer

Holland

Society of Jesus

1823
France

73rd New York Infantry
1861–63

1881

September 18, 1858

14th Louisiana Infantry
1861–65

April 2, 1900

September 10, 1843

8th Louisiana Infantry
1861–65

June 19, 1875

1853

37th New York Infantry
1861–63

CATHOLIC CHAPLAINS IN THE CIVIL WAR

William Corby

1905

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN CHILE AND THE
SOCIAL QUESTION IN THE 1930S:
THE POLITICAL PEDAGOGICAL DISCOURSE OF
FERNANDO VIVES DEL SOLAR, S.J.
BY

ROSA BRUNO-JOFRÉ*
The author examines the political pedagogical discourse of

Chilean Jesuit Fernando Vives

del Solar (1871–1935), focusing on the conceptual field configuring his discourse. Of particular relevance are his repudiation of

injustice as a central element of

his religious call-

ing , his religious and political formation influenced by European developments, his reading
of Pope Leo XIII’s Rerum Novarum, his role in the Social League (Liga Social), and
his confrontations with sectors of

the church hierarchy and the Conservative Party. His

social work and the crisis leading to his dismissal from the Catholic Action can be understood in the context of new political configurations and a renewed Catholic Christian social
language, which were eventually manifested in the Falange Nacional and the Christian
Democratic Party.

Keywords: Fernando Vives del Solar, S.J.; Rerum Novarum; Catholic Action; Liga
Social,

Conservative Party of Chile

This article examines the pedagogical political discourse of

Fernando

Vives del Solar, S.J. (1871–1935), in Chile, as a way to understand the complex
relationship of the Chilean Catholic Church with modernity. At the beginning
of

the twentieth century, the notion of

supranational

character

due

to

Pope

social Christianity had reached a

Leo

XIII’s

1891

encyclical

Rerum

Novarum, which sought to construct a corporativist Christian social order as

*Dr.

Bruno-Jofré

is

professor

of

history

of

education

at

Queen’s

University,

Ontario,

Canada, email: brunojor@queensu.ca. The author wishes to thank Josefina Silva, graduate student at the Pontificia Universidad Católica, who provided assistance at the Jesuit Archives in
Santiago, collected materials, and prepared a bibliography. The author also is grateful to Jesuit historian Manuel Revuelta González for his assistance at the Universidad de Comillas, Spain; and
Mariana Clavero Ribes, executive coordinator of

the Centre of

Studies San Alberto Hurtado,

Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile, for comments on the manuscript and additional information. Unless otherwise noted, translations are provided by the author. The research for this
article was facilitated by a Santander Award as visiting professor at the Faculty of Education,
Universidad Complutense de Madrid, in 2010.

703

704

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN CHILE AND THE SOCIAL QUESTION IN THE 1930S

1

an alternative to liberalism and socialism.

Meanwhile, the promulgation of

Leo’s Aeterni Patris (1879) had signified the rejection of modern thought on
the part of Rome and the assertion of the magisterium. In Graves de Communi
(1900),

Leo

accepted

the

use

of

the

defined it as social action in favor of

expression

Christian

Democracy,

but

the people. Neo-Scholasticism was

imposed as the only legitimate intellectual framework, thus setting an ultra2

montane tone that endured until the 1920s.

The Chilean historical setting of

the time and the political positioning of the Church in Chile mediated the
reception of Rerum Novarum. Although there was more than one reading of
the document, the majority of the hierarchy of the Chilean Catholic Church
and its close ally, the Conservative Party, were not receptive to the encyclical,
3

although there were significant exceptions.

Andrea Botto wrote that

the majority of the “official party of the Church,” as it was affirmed at the time,
adhered to an economic liberalism without limits and considered that the papal
encyclicals “were mere orientations dictated for other parts of the world, not for
4

Chile.”

Until 1934, when Cardinal Secretary of State Eugenio Pacelli stated in a letter
that the Vatican did not tie Catholics to the Conservative Party, being Catholic
5

in Chile demanded belonging to (and voting for) the Conservative Party.

1

See

Walter

Hanisch

Espindola,

Influencia en Chile, 1892–1932,”

“La

Enciclica

Rerum

Novarum

y

Cuarenta

Años

de

su

Anuario de Historia de la Iglesia en Chile, 9 (1991), 71–103.

2

Jürgen Mettepenningen, Nouvelle Théologie-New Theology: Inheritor of

Modernism. Precursor of

Vatican II (New York, 2010), pp. 20–25.
3

The first official reaction in Chile to the publication of Rerum Novarum was a pastoral address

by Monsignor Mariano Casanova. He emphasized socialism as a formidable danger, deemed
strikes to be germs, and recommended the creation of
charity as means of

“patronatos” and “mutuales” through

salvation for workers. In 1893, Casanova produced a “Pastoral sobre la

‘Propaganda de Doctrinas Irreligiosas y Antisociales’” in which he again condemned socialism
and gave authority a divine origin with charity as its daughter. Casanova privileged the concept
of charity over regeneration. Ana Maria Stuven, “Cuestión Social y Catolicismo Social: De La
Nación Oligárquica A La Nación Democrática,” in Catolicismo Social Chileno. Desarrollo, Crisis y
Actualidad, ed. Fernando Berríos, Jorge Costadoat, and Diego García (Santiago, 2009), pp. 47–81,
here p. 245. Botto cites R. A. Gumucio, Apuntesde Medio Siglo (Santiago, 1994), pp. 65–66.
4

Andrea Botto, “Catolicismo Social en Chile, 1930–1960: Un Factor de División entre los

Católicos?”, in Catolicismo Social Chileno, ed. Berríos, Costadoat, and García, pp. 242–67; here p.
245. “La mayoría del

partido ‘oficial de la Iglesia’, como se sostenía entonces, adhería a un libe-

ralismo económico sin reserva y consideraba que las encíclicas papales ‘eran meran orientaciones
dictadas para otras partes del mundo, no para Chile.’” Botto cites R. A. Gumucio, Apuntesde Medio
Siglo (Santiago, 1994), p. 27.
5

In 1922, Monsignor Crescente Errázuriz, archbishop of Santiago de Chile, tried to establish

boundaries between the Church and the Conservative Party, pointing out that the Church did not
take responsibility for the actions of a political party, did not pretend to exert influence on those
actions, and asserted that political parties had complete independence. Errázuriz made clear that

705

BY ROSA BRUNO-JOFRÉ

Nonetheless, there were efforts by some Catholics in Chile from the
beginning of the twentieth century to establish more humane social legislation,

as

seen

in

the
6

Conservative Party.
part of

work

of

Juan

Enrique

Concha,

a

member

of

the

These developments have been described as an integral

the process of

7

“institutionalization of

the state.”

There were also

socially-oriented pedagogical experiences inspired by the work of Frédéric Le
Play

at

the

Pontificia

European-inspired

Universidad

social

Católica

organizations

such

8

de

Chile,

as

the Patronatos

and

social apostolate with young workers that offered workshops,

a

number

of

(a

of

form

study circles,

and entertainment); workers’ circles (trade unions); study circles (círculos de
studio) in the schools, in particular

at the Colegio San Ignacio in Santiago (a

Jesuit secondary school), and Congregaciones Marianas. Early in the twentieth century, members of the clergy, influenced by more progressive currents
in France and Belgium and their own conviction, created Catholic unions

the

political

parties

should

not

intervene

in

matters

related

to

ecclesiastical

governance.

Errázuriz’s measures also prohibited the clergy to participate in politics. This decision generated
great opposition within the Church, since its clergy had been involved with the Conservative
Party since the nineteenth century. The letter of Pacelli published in El Diario Ilustrado on August
13, 1934, recognizes political pluralism among Catholics. María Antonieta Huerta and Luis
Pacheco

Pastene,

Information

taken

La

Iglesia

from

Chilean

Alberto

y

los

Cambios

Cardemil,

El

SocioPolíticos

Camino

de

la

(Santiago,
Utopía:

1988),

Alessandri,

pp.

165–66.

Frei,

Allende

(Santiago, 1997), p. 126.
6

The Catholic Juan Enrique Concha Subercaseaux, member of the Conservative Party and

professor at the Catholic University, was the author of legislation to improve workers’ conditions.
7

Juan Carlos Yáñez Andrade, La Intervención Social en Chile y El Nacimiento de la Sociedad Salarial

1907–1932 (Santiago, 2008). The author frames the creation of

the Workers’ Office in 1907

within an institutional perspective and more specifically within the field of social intervention
and the development of the social state. His argument is that the creation of institutions and laws
established frames of reference for action, defined new values and perspectives to evaluate problems, legitimated conceptualizations, and molded procedures and attitudes for political and social
actors.
8

Francisco de Borja Echeverría started to use the so-called Le Play method in his classes on

social economy at the Catholic University around 1902. Borja Echeverría sent the students to the
poor neighborhoods and “conventillos” (the world of workers and those on the margins of society) to do surveys. The general situation of the working population had subhuman characteristics. The available statistics indicate that between 1885 and 1895, 38 percent of the population
was

illiterate.

Fernando

Aliaga

Rojas,

Historia

de

los

Movimientos

Apostólicos

Juveniles

de

Chile

(Santiago, 1973), p. 22. Pierre Guillaume Frédéric le Play (1806–82) was an engineer who published Les Ouvriers européens on the financial situation of workers’ families. He founded the Societé
international des études pratiques d’économie sociale that published the journal La Réforme sociale
(1881). He became a Catholic and questioned Darwinism and skepticism. See Michael Brooke,
Le Play, Engineer and Social Scientist: The Life and Work of

Frédéric Le Play (Chicago, 1982). Borja

Echeverría studied in the Societé founded by Le Play and knew first-hand developments among
Catholic intellectuals as well as the misery among urban workers. Pilar Hevia Fabres, El Rector de
los Milagros: Don Carlos Casanueva Opazo, 1874–1957 (Santiago, Chile, 2004).

706

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN CHILE AND THE SOCIAL QUESTION IN THE 1930S

9

(sindicatos) and eventually spawned a political movement.
social

situation

in

the

1920s

would

generate

The severity of the

differences

inside

the

Conservative Party, alternative political languages that developed along with
the apostolic movements and changes inside the Chilean Catholic Church.
However, the resistance to change of the old guard of the Conservative Party
and members of the church hierarchy cannot be discounted, as exemplified
10

by the experiences of Jesuit priest Fernando Vives del Solar (1871–1935).
Vives has a special place in the history of

social Christianity in Chile.

Monsignor Oscar Larson Soudy, in referring to advanced social ideas that ultimately

inspired

the

creation

of

the

Christian

Democratic

Party,

wrote:

“Strictly speaking who placed the first seed in Chile was the Jesuit Father
11

Fernando Vives del Solar in the years 1916 and 1917.”

His intense social

work with workers and young people was marked by a discourse that articulated a vision of

a Christian social order inspired by the Gospel, aimed at

social action, and informed by the understanding that “only the workers will
save the workers.” Vives endured long periods of

12

forced “exile.”

He has

been recognized as a mentor of major figures in Chile such as Clotario Blest
(1899–1990), Catholic labor leader and founder of

the Central Única de

Trabajadores (The Only Central Union); St. Alberto Hurtado, S.J. (1901–52),
founder

of

the

Acción

Sindical

y

Económica

Chilena

(Economic

and

9

A leading scholar of Catholic unions that adhered to the social doctrine of the Church,

William Thayer Arteaga singles out the Jesuits Vives del Solar and Jorge Fernández Pradel, Martín
Rücker Sotomayor (later bishop of Chillán), Luis Silva Lezaeta (first bishop of Antofagasta), and
Daniel Merino Benítez (who had an important role in the 1916 strike in Iquique), devoting particular attention to Guillermo Viviani Contreras, who had been influenced by Vives. Viviani was
an advocate of union autonomy; he organized the People’s House in 1917 and founded the newspaper El Sindicalista in 1918. William Thayer Arteaga, El Padre Hurtado y su Lucha por la Libertad
Sindical (Barcelona, 1999), pp. 76–79.
10

It is important to note that increased focus on societal problems; the contact with the plight

of workers and peasants; and the political, community, and religious activism of young people—
particularly students—opened increased roles for laypeople within the Church. Thus, the study
circles and other groups were the cradle of future transformative lay and religious leaders. An
interesting example is provided by the Asociación de la Juventud Católica Femenina, founded in
1921 by Bishop Rafael Edwards to reach the poor and people in rural areas where there were
very few priests. As Gertrude Yeager wrote, it “helped to transform a generation of teenage girls
into religious activists and apostles to the poor” and provided a gendered reading of the Gospel
and church history. Gertrude M. Yeager, “In the Absence of Priests: Young Women as Apostles
to the Poor, Chile 1922–1932, “The Americas, 64 (2007), 207–42.
11

Oscar Larson [Soudy], La ANEC y la Democracia Cristiana (Santiago, Chile, 1967), p. 13:

“Rigurosamente hablando, quien colocó la primera semilla en Chile fue el Padre Jesuíta, Fernando
Vives Solar, por los años 1916 y 1917.”
12

Quotation marks are used here because the Society of Jesus sent Vives out of the country

for long periods of time when the Conservative Party and the Catholic Church in Chile complained about him.

707

BY ROSA BRUNO-JOFRÉ

Unionist Chilean Action) and the Hogar de Cristo (Christ Home) and an educator who interpreted John Dewey from a Catholic perspective; and Larson
(1892–1974), instrumental in the National Association of Catholic Students
(ANEC) and known for his efforts to apply the social doctrine of the Church.
This article discusses the Spanish social and Catholic context in which Vives
developed his spirituality at the beginning of the century (1899–1909). Vives
returned to Chile in 1909, but due to pressures from the Conservative Party and
the Church, his Jesuit superiors sent him to Argentina in 1912, where he
remained until 1914 when he returned to Chile. In 1918 when his work generated a strong reaction once again, he was sent to Spain, where he would remain
until the advent of the second republic in 1931. At the time of Vives’s return,
the social and political situation in Chile was very different from the one he had
encountered in the 1910s. The social questions were at the center of the political debate. The core of the article concentrates on his last four years between
1931 and 1935, in the analysis of the conceptual field configuring his political
and religious discourse; his role in the creation of

the Liga Social (Social

League); the tensions with the Society of Jesus; and the opposition from important sectors of the hierarchy of the Church and members of its close ally, the
Conservative Party. His work and the crisis leading to his dismissal from the
Catholic Action cannot be separated from the complex process of construction
of new political configurations infused with a renewed Catholic Christian social
language. Eventually, these new patterns took lasting institutional shape in politics via the Falange Nacional (which became a separate party in 1938) and later
in the Christian Democratic Party (1957).
Although time and locality mediate the reception and the production of ideas
and concepts, the analysis of Vives’s texts reveal an intentionality that is closely
interwoven with his religious calling. The force behind Vives’s statements can be
explained as a profound repudiation of injustice rooted in his calling and the
belief in the moral obligation of Catholics to change the social order, making
the latter Christian. This would be the intended “illocutionary” force coordinat13

ing meanings and essential to understanding Vives’s statements.

Fernando Vives del Solar, S.J.: Horizons of Reference and
Response to the Social Question
After completing his novitiate in Cordoba, Argentina, Vives undertook his
Jesuit training in Spain’s Cataluña region during the fourth restoration of the

13

Quentin Skinner, “Meaning and Understanding in the History of Ideas,” History and Theory,

8, no. 1 (1969), 3–53, esp. 45 and 46.

708

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN CHILE AND THE SOCIAL QUESTION IN THE 1930S

14

Society of Jesus in Spain—a time of intense political strife.

He was ordained

in Tortosa del Ebro, Spain, in July 1908. During the celebration of his first
Mass, he promised to serve the poor and made a special vow (fourth vow) in
writing on December 8, 1908, to devote himself to an apostolate among the
poor.

15

In the first decade of the twentieth century, the urban and rural work-

ers’ movement reached a high point with strikes and often violent conflicts,
16

and the anarchists in Cataluña were among the strongest in Europe.

The

Catholic Church and the Jesuits in particular had developed extensive social
work with rather reactionary tones among the popular classes, attempting to
move urban and rural workers away from socialism and anarchism. Inspired
by Rerum Novarum and guided by the clergy, workers’ circles had been created
in various places in Spain, particularly in Cataluña. The circles, which had a
complex organizational structure, offered instructive/educational, economic,
and recreational initiatives, and had a confessional character. They were conceived as the pedagogical and social space where the owners/bosses (patrones)
and workers—distanced by the liberal economy—would be in contact again.
Knowing the needs and the reality of the workers would motivate the owners
of the means of production and the nobility linked to the land to restore the
relations that had characterized the guilds that the French Revolution had
17

broken, or to improve working conditions.
particularly the province of

The Society of Jesus in Spain—

Aragón—was theologically and politically con-

servative, spiritually attached to external rules, and mostly in line with the
antimodernist theological stand of

18

the Vatican.

The articles published in

Razón y Fe are illustrative.

14

The period between 1875 and 1931 is known as the Alphonsine restoration (restauración

alfonsina) refers to Alfonso XII and Alfonso XIII. The fourth restoration of the Society had a
progressive character. There was no official decree of restoration, the decree of suppression of
1868 was not revoked. It was a restoration de facto, an open manifestation of their work. Manuel
Revuelta González, “Estabilidad y Progreso de la Compañia durante la Restauración Alfonsina
(1875–1931),” in Los Jesuítas en España y en el Mundo Hispánico, ed. Teófanes Egido, Javier Burrieza
Sánchez, and Manuel Revuelta González (Madrid, 2004), pp. 313–39.
15

JHS, “Voto del Padre Vives in Rafael Sagredo,” in Escritos del Padre Fernando Vives del Solar,

ed. Rafael Sagredo Baeza (Santiago, Chile, 1993), p. 485.
16

See Manuel Nuñez de Arena and Manuel Tuñón de Lara, Historia del Movimiento Obrero

Español (Barcelona, 1970); Angel Smith, ed., Red Barcelona. Social Protest and Labour Mobilization in
the Twentieth Century (New York, 2002); Angel Smith, Anarchism, Revolution and Reaction: Catalan
Labour and the Crisis of
17

Domingo

the Spanish State, 1989–1923 (New York, 2007).

Benavides

Gómez,

Democracia

y

Cristianismo

en

la

España

de

la

Restauración,

1875–1931 (Madrid, 1978), chapters VI and VII.
18

From the beginning of the twentieth century and to the 1930s, the province of Aragón

included the three civil provinces of Aragón, the four of Cataluña, the three of Valencia, plus
the Baleares and the Barcelona curia. Until 1918, the Society’s province of Aragón included Chile
and Argentina.

709

BY ROSA BRUNO-JOFRÉ

In 1895, the Jesuit Antonio Vincent, a main promoter of the workers’ circles, identified as the causes of social unrest (following Leo XIII) the religious
apostasy of

nations, liberal individualism that had destroyed the old guilds
19

(gremios) and left the workers without social support, and “voracious usury.”

However, Vincent previously had acknowledged that mixed associations did
20

not work;

the influence of the most reactionary and conservative sectors of

society became evident in the approach to Catholic sindicalismo (unionism) of
21

the Workers’ Center of Madrid.

Nonetheless, the influence from Belgium,

where independent Catholic unionism was strong, reached Spain. In the
1910s, priests such as Pedro Gerard, Maximiliano Arboleya, and the Jesuit
Gabriel Palau advocated workers’ independence (sindicalismo puro), maintaining that the workers should organize themselves with no other conditioning
22

than moral Christianity as their guide.

However, the opposition, composed

of powerful officials within the Church and the Society of Jesus, dominated
in the end. Before Vives was exiled to Spain in 1918, the Society had sent
23

Palau to Buenos Aires, and Arboleya was forced to abandon his work.

Vives

witnessed during his formative years the development of the workers’ circles
and patronatos, as well as the political struggles inside and outside the Church.
Vives returned to Chile in 1909 as a history teacher at the Jesuit Colegio
San Ignacio in Santiago, bringing with him organizational experience acquired
not only in Spain but also from his contacts with Belgian, French, German,
and Italian Jesuits. He was committed to providing young people with a social
Christian education via study circles, motivating them to move from theory to
24

practice.

He strongly appealed to the Gospel as a main source in his spiri-

tual and social teachings and clearly conveyed the idea that work with workers and the poor had to be independent from political parties—a challenge at
the time given the strong ties of Catholics with the Conservative Party. Vives
organized a drivers’ union (choferes) and worked to organize

women needle

workers, but pressure from the Conservative Party and the church hierarchy,

19

Domingo

Benavídez

Gómez,

Democracia

y

Cristianismo

en

la

España

de

la

Restauración,

1875–1931 (Madrid 1978), p. 214. Cándido Ruiz Rodrigo, “Cuestión Obrera y Educación: La
Respuesta del Catolicismo Social en España,” in Cuestiones Histórico-Educativas, España, Siglos
XVIII–XX, ed. Rosa Calatayud Soler, Juan Manuel Fernández Soria, Luis Miguel Lázaro Lorente,
Ramón López Martín, Manuel López Torrijo, Irene Palacio Lis, and Cándido Ruiz Rodrigo
(Valencia,

1991), pp. 103–34.

20

Benavídez Gómez, Democracia y Cristianismo, p. 225.

21

Ibid., p. 254.

22

Ibid., pp. 277–81.

23

Ibid.

24

Originating in France, the study circle was intended to prepare a selected group dedicated to

social work, which was expected to gain political influence. Vives wanted the students to confront
the difficulties personally so that they would be in direct contact with the reality of the poor.

710

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN CHILE AND THE SOCIAL QUESTION IN THE 1930S

caused the Society of Jesus to send him into exile to Cordoba, Argentina, in
1912. The Society in Chile was theologically and politically very conservative,
in part due to its ties to Spain and the Jesuits from Cataluña. The students at
San Ignacio organized a protest when Vives was sent away. In Argentina, he
continued his work that combined social action, education, politics, and reli25

gion, returning to Chile in 1914.

Back at the Colegio San Ignacio, he directed

study circles for students, study centers for workers, and was invited by
Bishop José María Caro to participate in the first Social Week in Chile that
took place in Iquique, among other activities. Blest referred to Vives as his
most admired and beloved teacher. Blest stated: “Father Vives had great pedagogical sense and was the first one who called my attention to social injustice and taught me the true apostolic work.” Blest recalled that around 1914,
when Vives returned from exile in Argentina, a group of young people met
with him regularly. He went on to say:
We were many. There was no desire to be involved in propaganda. He told us,
“You should open the eyes to the reality of the world, the world of the exploited,
of the poor.” The right detested him, the Conservative Party, the party of the aris26

tocracy did not leave him alone.

Every Monday of the month, Blest was granted permission to leave his seminary, and he would visit Vives at San Ignacio. Many other students followed
suit, which had ramifications, according to Blest: “This situation reached the
27

ears of Rector Fuenzalida, and the students were dispersed.”

In 1918, Vives

was sent into exile again, this time to Spain. He would not return until 1931.
Exile has been used as a form of
28

America since colonial times.

exclusion from public life in Latin

Vives lived a great part of his consecrated life

in exile, first sent to Argentina and later to Spain. His work was construed by
the Church and the Conservative Party as a threat to the social order. His displacement had unique characteristics given his status as a member of

the

Society of Jesus. In Spain he fully engaged in the social work of the Jesuits,

25

For details, see Rafael Sagredo Baeza, “Notas para una Biografía de Fernando Vives,”

Escritos, ed. Sagredo Baeza, pp. 9–13.
26

Interview with Clotario Blest , July 20, 1978, in Mónica Echeverria, Antihistoria de un lucha-

dor : Clotario Blest 1823–1990 (Santiago, 1993), p. 49: “‘Ustedes deben abrir los ojos a la realidad
del mundo, del mundo,

el mundo de los explotados, de los pobres.’ La derecha lo detestaba; el

partido Conservador, el partido de la aristocracia, no lo dejaba tranquilo.”
27

Blest interview in Echeverria, Antihistoria, p. 50: “Esto llegó a oídos del rector Fuenzalida y

los alumnos fueron disgregados.”
28

Luis Roniger and Mario Sznajder, “Antecedentes coloniales del exilio politico y su proyec-

ción el el siglo XIX,” Estudios Interdisciplinarios de América Latina y el Caribe, 18, no. 2 (2007),
http://www1.tau.ac.il/eial (accessed January 20, 2010).

711

BY ROSA BRUNO-JOFRÉ

which had a lasting effect on him politically and spiritually. It was a peculiar
exile that he did not accept as final. Rather, he kept up a relationship with his
former students and progressive church leaders in Chile, as well as wrote in
Chilean magazines such as the Revista Católica relating political and social
developments in European countries and analyzing workers’ issues in con29

nection with the Catholic Church.

Vives never lost sight of conditions in

Chile and his future work there. In a July 1920 letter to Hurtado, Vives wrote
from Jerez:

I continue my work with the Young People Congregation which keeps growing; I
have created the Catholic Young Workers, the first of

its kind in Spain. The

Workers’ Union, recently established, is doing very well. The same I can say of the
consumers’ cooperative which has a great future. And in Chile the Catholics are so
30

afraid of those institutions!

The following year, still from Jerez, he underscored that he was directing the
Catholic Young Workers, a workers’ union with 400 members, and a workers’
cooperative without interference from management (sin que ningún patron intervenga). Vives mentioned la caja de socorros mutuos (mutual bank) and that he was
working on cooperatives of shops (the workers would be the owners). In the
same letter of 1921, he wrote:

With reference to social action in Chile, nothing will happen until there is a solid
group of

propagandist workers with solid formation who are ready for a truly

democratic organization. I regret that politics is mixed with the social question, a
Christian democracy has to aim to solve socio-economic questions within the
framework of the Christian doctrine and consequently those affiliated with democracy should dispense of the Conservative Party: neither to attack nor to defend it
31

as a social entity, but leave everyone free to follow or to leave it…

29

Rafael Sagredo Baeza, Escritos, pp. 13–25.

30

Santiago, Chile, Archivo de la Compañía de Jesus (hereafter referred to as ACJ), Letter from

Fernando

Vives

Recibidas,

Archivo

del

Solar
Padre

to

Alberto

Hurtado,

Hurtado

Digital

(Jerez),

Archive

March

Padre

25,

1921.

Hurtado,

Carpeta

Centro

de

de

Cartas

Estudios

y

Documentación Padre Hurtado, CR19211m03d25. “Aquí sigo con la Congregación de jóvenes,
que aumenta constantemente. He formado una Juventud Católica Obrera, que sin duda es ya la
primera de España. Los Sindicatos Obreros recién formados van muy bien; espero tener mas de
mil para fines de año. Lo mismo le puedo decir de la cooperativa de consumo, que tiene un presente bueno, y porvenir maravilloso. Y en Chile tanto miedo que le tienen los católicos a estas
instituciones.”
31

Letter from Vives to Hurtado (Santiago, Chile), Jerez, June 7, 1921, Carpeta de Cartas

Recibidas, ACJ. Digital Archive Padre Hurtado, Centro de Estudios y Documentación

Padre

Hurtado, CR19211m06d07. “En cuanto a la acción social no harán nada en Chile hasta que no
formen sólidamente un grupo obrero de propagandistas y se resuelvan a una organización netamente democrática. Yo siento que en la cuestión social mezclen la política: la democracia cristiana

712

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN CHILE AND THE SOCIAL QUESTION IN THE 1930S

Vives’s involvement in social and political work took him to the Social Week
events in France, and he traveled extensively in France and Belgium to learn
about developments in politics and social welfare. As Mettepenningen noted,
Scholasticism was followed by a period (1920–50) in which neo-Thomistic philosophy (returning to St. Thomas Aquinas as source) enjoyed a process of
32

growth and pluralization.

Taking hold was Jacques Maritain’s notion of integral

humanism in which the human person has a natural purpose to be achieved
through politics, and a supranatural purpose to be achieved through religion and
33

ethics..

Another relevant influence at the time was the establishment of the

Institut historique d’études thomistes at Le Saulchoir, the study house of the
34

French Dominicans that further signaled a return to Aquinas.

Not less impor-

tant was the development of transcendental Thomism characterized by its dialogue with modernity and science not only in France but also in Belgium where
the Jesuit Joseph Maréchal at Catholic University of Leuven’s Institut supérieur
de philosophie cultivated an interest in the subject and in modern thought.
Another tendency with a presence in Louvain was linked to “reality thinking.” It
was described “as the interaction between transcendental Thomism, phenomenology, and the notion of
would

follow

in

the

35

‘implicit intuition.’”

footsteps

of

Vives,

Interestingly, Hurtado, who

earned

his

PhD

at

the

Catholic

University of Leuven and revealed a strong neo-Thomist influence.
Vives’s writings from his time in Spain point to a conception of the Catholic
workers’ associations as independent entities. This view ran distinctly counter
to the dominant conservative tendencies in Spanish Catholicism, which contin36

ued marginalizing progressive voices.

Vives, one of those progressives, situ-

ated himself beyond his own Spanish context, nourished by his exposure to
theological and social developments in Europe and his reading of the times. In
an article published in the Jesuit Spanish magazine Razón y Fe in 1925, Vives
described the events of

the Social Week in Lyon and quoted at length the

speech of Belgian Dominican Georges C. Rutten, who said “that the workers
had to associate among themselves and within the frame set by the eternal principles of Christian truth, and their supra-sensible aim was to struggle hard to

ha de ser para resolver las cuestiones económico-sociales conforme a la doctrina cristiana, en consecuencia los afiliados a la democracia han de prescindir del partido conservador: ni atacarlo ni
defenderlo como entidad social, y dejar a todos en libertad para seguirlo o dejarlo…”
32

The establishment of the Institut historique d’études thomistes is considered the starting

point of neo-Thomism.
33

Mettepenningen, Nouvelle Théologie-New Theology, pp. 25–26.

34

Ibid., pp. 25–27.

35

Ibid., p. 26.

36

See letters mentioned above and articles included in Rafael Sagredo, Escritos del Padre

Fernando Vives del Solar.

713

BY ROSA BRUNO-JOFRÉ

obtain the triumph of

37

their just cause.”

Thus, upon his return to Chile in

1931, when the advent of the second republic in Spain led to a dispersion of
the Jesuits, Vives advocated that the workers become educators of their fellow
workers and promoted an apostolate of

38

the workers by the workers.

The

workers then would become active subjects in the process of change.
Although the Jesuit colegios (high schools), the elementary schools connected
to the workers’ circles, the congregations, the professional schools for workers,
39

and the popular schools were very successful,

the political failure of

the

Catholic Church in social action was evident. In the midst of internal struggles
within the Church, the methods that prevailed in social action were those of the
conservative circles, mixed trade unions (including the nobility and the bourgeoisie), paternalist unionism (even the so-called “yellow” one), philanthropy,
and subordination to the clergy. Internal strife nourished by the antidemocratic
Catholic Spanish tradition at the political and social level had prevented the
development of a Christian Democratic Party; the Church was not trusted by
40

workers and farmers, although the work with the latter had had some promise.

Sectors of the Church and the Jesuits tried to reflect sensitivity to those suffering exploitation and promote social organizations, but had been unable to build
a discourse and practice separated from the upper classes and the clergy.
Anticlericalism was a feature of the time, which reached a peak in 1931.
By July 1931, the effect of the depression became evident in Chile in the
form of a serious economic crisis (the price of copper fell, and the market
for Chilean nitrate shrank) that was accompanied by serious political and
social unrest. President Carlos Ibañez del Campo went into exile in Argentina,
and a brief socialist republic was proclaimed. An election at the end of 1932
led to the second presidency of Arturo Alessandri (1932–38)—a product of
a liberal alliance of Radicals, Democrats, and Liberals. Meanwhile, the Partido
Obrero Socialista, created by Emilio Recabarren in Iquique in 1912, had

37

Vives, “La Semana Social de Lyon,” Razón y Fe, Revista Mensual Redactada por Padres de la

Compañía de Jesús, 73 (1925), 331–36, here 335: “Los obreros deben asociarse entre sí y dentro del
marco que les señalen los eternos principios de la verdad cristiana, y su fin suprasensible, luchar
esforzadamente hasta obtener el triunfo de la justicia de su causa.” Vives often referred to Rutten,
a priest who was very popular in Europe. Feminist women had serious problems with Rutten’s
position on women’s work outside the home. See Maarten van Ginderachter, “Gender, the
Extreme Right and Flemish Nationalist Women’s Organizations in Interwar Belgium,” Nations
and Nationalism, II, no. 2 (2005), 265–84.
38

Vives, “El Apostolado del Obrero y la Liga Social,” La Union,

January 18, 1934, 3. Rpt. in

El Humanismo de Fernando Vives, ed. Francisco Javier Cid (Santiago, Chile, 1976), pp. 34–35.
39

Teófanes Egido, Javier Burrieza Sánchez, and Manuel Revuelta González,

España y en el Mundo Hispánico (Madrid, 2004), pp. 344–45.
40

Benavídez Gómez, Democracia y Cristianismo, pp. 369–70.

Los Jesuítas en

714

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN CHILE AND THE SOCIAL QUESTION IN THE 1930S

adhered in 1922 to the conditions of the Third International and changed its
name to Partido Comunista de Chile. The new Socialist Party was founded in
41

1933.

The Left and the Right were clearly defined. The Left had developed,

particularly in the 1920s, a political pedagogical discourse that centered on
internationalism, class struggle, exploitation, class awareness, and political and
class consciousness with Latin Americanist tones. It intersected with nationalist populist discourses and with the political pedagogical discourses linked
to the university reform movement (1918), which generated practices of popular education and the popular universities. These discourses and practices
contributed to the creation of an emerging popular national culture. In Chile,
the Church had remained by and large attached to the Conservative Party,
known as the party of the economic oligarchy, in the midst of the building of
the modern state and related social institutions. The serious political crisis
affecting Chile in the mid-twenties and the evidence of

social problems

aggravated in 1929 provided impetus to those sectors concerned with social
Christianity,

as

they

began

to

distance

themselves

ideologically

Conservative Party. Equally significant was the separation of

from

the

Church and

state in 1925 that was arranged by Alessandri with Pope Pius XI and Vatican
officials. As Collier and Sater put it, the Chilean hierarchy and clergy accepted
the separation with reluctance, but it did not seem to alter the place of the
42

Church in Chilean life.

However, it did signal new times for sectors of the

Church that sought concrete social action.
The change in perspective, language, and practice was evident in the late
1920s in the work of individuals such as Monsignor Larson who, as adviser to
the National Association of Students, moved its agenda to social services and
43

night schools served by university students,

and in the unionist work of priest

Guillermo Viviani. The encyclical Quadragesimo Anno, in which Pius XI addressed
the ethical implications of the social and economic order, was published in 1931.
44

Upon his return in 1931, Vives and other priests such as Viviani

advocated a

41

See Simon Collier and William F. Sater, A History of Chile, 1808–2002, 2nd ed. (Cambridge,

UK, 2004), pp. 202–34.
42

Collier and Sater, A History of

Chile, p. 213. Popular education refers to practices of political

education among the workers and poor sectors of society. It was a practice of adult education
that was profoundly transformative. In the 1970s and early 1980s there was a renewed movement
for popular education in Latin America, which was inspired by Brazilian practices in the 1960s
and nourished by the work of Paulo Freire.
43

Fernando Aliaga Rojas, Itinerary Histórico: De los Círculos de Estudios a las Comunidades Juveniles

de Base (Santiago, Chile, 1977), pp. 62–64. Oscar Larson, La ANEC y la Democracia Cristiana
(Santiago, Chile, 1967).
44

Jaime

Caiceo

Escudero,

Dios

y

el

Hombre

en

el

Pensamiento

Catòlico

Chileno:

1900–1950

(Santiago, Chile, 1992), pp. 185–203. William Thayer Arteaga, El Padre Hurtado y su Lucha por la
Libertad Sindical (Barcelona, 1999), pp. 76–79.

715

BY ROSA BRUNO-JOFRÉ

renewed discourse that emphasized the interpretation of Rerum Novarum and
other

encyclicals.

Furthermore,

Jacques

Maritain’s

ideas

regarding

social

Christian democracy would be part of the configuration of ideas and concepts
45

that were developed and that would influence political life in Chile.

The Configuration of a Christian Social Order
There were certain concepts that constituted the semantic field configuring
Vives’s understanding of

a Christian social order during the period between

1931 and 1935. These were his understanding of

charity and its relation to

social justice, his notion of the common good and his implacable critique of
individualism, his understanding of corporatism as a system of interest representation within an organic conception of society, and his critique of socialism
46

while considering the points of contact with Christianity.

These understand-

ings led him to demand land redistribution (with a notion of private property
linked to the common good), the organization of Catholic workers, the formation of a new political leadership among young people, the workers’ political
and religious formation, and the overall need for social reconstruction.
Relying on the Gospel, he referred frequently to early Christianity as well
as the encyclicals. Vives’s profound commitment to the poor, the worker, and
the exploited was rooted in his faith and in his religious calling. He wrote on
the occasion of the anniversary of Rerum Novarum:
During my lengthy life committed to social work, I have NEVER betrayed the
cause of the people (del pueblo). I will have the right to accuse as slanderous [those]
who could try to reproach me with any capitulation in favor of the rich and the
47

employers (patrones).

Vives explained that charity is a supranatural virtue that consists in loving
God above everything and loving fellow humans as we love ourselves because
of our love of God. Justice refers to the rights of others independently from
relations of indifference, friendship, or animosity. In Vives’s view, justice does
not demand to love one’s neighbor, but to respect his or her rights. Charity
obligates us to love the human person even as this person does not have the

45

See Caiceo Escudero, Dios y el Hombre, pp. 185–203.

46

For

a

discussion

of

corporatism

in

Chile,

Functionalism in Modern Chilean Politics,” Journal of

see

Paul

W.

Drake,

“Corporatism

and

Latin American Studies, 10 (1978), 83–116.

47

Vives, “Discurso en el Aniversario de Rerum Novarum,” May 15, 1934, rpt. in El Humanismo

de Fernando Vives, ed. Cid, p. 15: “En mi larga vida de actividades sociales JAMÁS he traicionado
la causa del pueblo. Tendré derecho de acusar de calumniador al que pretendiese enrostrarme
cualquiera claudicación en favor de los ricos y patrones.” Emphasis in original. See also Rafael
Sagredo Baeza, Escritos del Padre Fernando Vives del Solar (Santiago, Chile, 1993), pp. 499–507.

716

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN CHILE AND THE SOCIAL QUESTION IN THE 1930S

48

right to be loved. Charity is fundamental in order to have justice.

Vives fur-

ther argued that the reforms demanded by the Church in the name of charity are in the realm of justice and that the state should dictate laws that secure
the reforms (such as fair wages and health coverage for workers, as well as
enforcement of safe working conditions). A Christian cannot claim to have
49

charity in his or her heart while despising justice.

Vives understood private property as a natural right and linked it to justice
and the common good. He is referring here to industrial and farm workers’
salaries, working conditions, health, education, and mechanisms—such as
special banks (Cajas de compensación) constituted with funds from industrialists
from the same economic region—to ensure subsidies and assistance for
workers. In his view, every measure or mechanism that could relate the worker
more closely to property and the property to the company where the workers’ labor would benefit the company, social harmony, and the public inter50

est.

The unequal distribution of wealth and the concentration of land were

major themes in Vives’s discourse, and he even characterized the people (el
51

pueblo) in Chile as an intermediate class between slaves and serfs.

Individualism, in his view, conceived of

the individual as autonomous,

with an intrinsic value superior to values pertaining to the social and moral
order. The individual came to be like the unity of society, the nation, and the
state, without need for intermediaries such as the family, professional associations, or regional groups. Vives linked individualism to anthropocentrism
and humanism, stating that it represented the separation of women and men
from their spiritual center; he wanted to keep for

the human person the high place it deserves but leaving room for social persons
such as the family and the profession, political persons such as the commune, and
the region, in order to conform altogether a harmonious state leading our destiny
52

and fulfilling the goals for which humans were created.

48

Vives, “Diferencias entre la Justicia y la Caridad,” La Unión, January 4, 1935, 3. Rpt. in El

Humanismo de Fernando Vives, ed. Cid, pp. 21–23. Also in Sagredo Baeza, ed., Escritos, pp. 453–54.
49

Vives, “Justicia y Caridad,” La Unión, October 29, 1932, 3. Rpt. in El Humanismo de Fernando

Vives, ed.

Cid, pp. 23–27. Also in Sagredo Baeza, ed., Escritos, pp. 257–58.

50

Vives, “Protección al Trabajo,” La Unión, August 22, 1934, 3. Rpt. in El Humanismo de

Fernando Vives, ed. Cid, pp. 29–31.
51

“La Cuestión Social Vista por un Jesuita. Don Fernando Vives S Nos Habla Sobre la

Cuestión Social, Proa, Ideario de la Federación de Estudiantes de Chile, June 1935, p. 10,” in El
Humanismo de Fernando Vives, ed. Cid, pp.119–22. See also Sagredo Baeza, Escritos del Padre Fernando
Vives del Solar, pp. 479–81.
52

Vives, “Individualismo,” La Unión, January 8, 1935. Rpt. in Escritos del Padre Fernando Vives

del Solar, ed. Sagredo Baeza, pp. 457–58, here p. 458: “… en el que conservando el hombre (sic)

717

BY ROSA BRUNO-JOFRÉ

This critique of individualism is at the root of his notion of corporatism.
In the 1930s, Vives’s critique of socialism included elements of agreement
and disagreement with social Christianity, but carefully outlined a different
position

from

communism

(somewhat

consistent

with

Pius

XI’s

1931

Quadragesimo Anno) and reflected experiences from countries such as Belgium
and Holland. In his view, the socialists, who added something practical and
new to the social world, had taken central concepts from the Christian social
tradition. For Vives, the main points of difference were the notion of charity
related to justice and the notion of private property (a natural right for the
Church), although there was convergence on the critique of property and the
neglect of the common good. Vives advocated the independent organization
of the working class and considered that socialism had played an important
role not only in organizing the working class and giving its members legal
standing but also in placing the social realm over the political. However, he
did not agree with the notion of class struggle or with the dominance of one
class over the others (sometimes he used the expression class solidarity) and
talked of a reformist, European-like socialism that eventually would be displaced by social Christianity. Socialism, he argued, brought back the organization of workers that had existed in medieval times, but was now in line with
present needs. In Vives’s view, the reconstitution of the workers’ associations
to defend their rights, in turn, led to the organization of the owners of the
means of production, thus generating a system resembling the old corporate
structure. Here, he introduced the notion of the state as representative of the
53

living forces of society along with the idea of class solidarity.

Vives’s work in Chile after his return was intense and motivated by his
interest in working with youth and workers. As Sagredo Baeza noted, Vives’s
social educational activities had some measure of help because of a new role
54

for laypeople in apostolic work.

However, such a development did not fully

facilitate Vives’s work or alleviate his problems with members of the church
hierarchy, the Conservative Party, and his own congregation. His experience
is illustrative of

the reaction of

“conservative” sectors to the changes that

were taking place inside the Church as well as the different directions taken
by those involved in the change.

individual, o sea, la persona humana el alto papel que le corresponde, d’e lugar a las personas
sociales, como la familia y la profesión, y políticas, como la comuna y la región, para que todas
juntas formen el Estado armónico que dirija los destinos de los hombres y les haga cumplir el fin
para que fueron creados.”
53

Vives, “Crisis del Socialismo,” Estudios, no. 24 (December 1934). Rpt. in

Fernando Vives del Solar, ed. Sagredo Baeza, pp. 447–50.
54

Sagredo Baeza, Escritos del Padre Fernando Vives del Solar, p. 20.

Escritos del Padre

718

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN CHILE AND THE SOCIAL QUESTION IN THE 1930S

In 1931, the National Association of Catholic Students became the Catholic
Action. Vives was appointed director of one of its secretariats, Social Assistance
and Socioeconomic Activities. Monsignor José Horacio Campillo Infante, archbishop of Santiago de Chile, had asked Vives to accept this position, mindful
that Jesuit Vice-Provincial José Llussá also considered it an acceptable post for
Vives. This move may have signaled a recognition of the political power of such
an entity and the extent of the support for new approaches to the social ques55

tion as an expression of a Christian commitment.

In 1932, Vives and a group

of Catholics interested in social action, including Blest, founded the Liga Social
(Social League) and, a bit later, its paper Falange; they both were attached to the
secretariat. The Liga Social was composed of professionals, university students,
and workers who were committed to the dissemination of the social doctrine of
the Church and worked toward its realization through the organization of sindi56

catos (unions) and professional associations.

An important component of its

platform was collective charity linked to justice that obligated Catholics to participate in public life, find a Catholic solution to the problems of life, and take
action accordingly. Vives was quoted as saying, “I wish to do the same that was
done during early Christian times and take the young from their houses to the
57

street to be engaged in the struggle.”

This action took place by means of cul-

tural centers, conferences, educational and training programs, and organization
of cooperatives and unions (sindicatos).
Vives told Llussá in July 1932 that the Liga Social had five social schools;
eight study circles with priests, young people, and workers; and a physicians’
association (he hoped to organize something similar with lawyers and engineers). He also told Llussa that he was working on the organization of a private teacher’s union (sindicato) and had fourteen groups of workers in various
Santiago neighborhoods poised to create unions. In addition, he noted that he
58

expected to direct a study circle for the sixth-year students at San Ignacio.

In

this correspondence, the Liga Social is referred to as apolitical, a qualification
that needs to be read with knowledge of the close ties of the Catholic Church

55

Vives to Dr. Dn. Gilberto Fuenzalinda, Conception, dated September 21, 1932. The letter

is not signed but obviously was written by Vives, although it is unclear if it was sent. In the letter
Vives also said that the role of the Conservative Party is to conform to papal instructions. He
made it clear that he did not intend to form a new political party. The tone is one of clarification. 2/C/Carp. 07, Colegio San Ignacio, correspondencia Padre Vives (hereafter referred to as
CPV), ACJ.
56

La Junta Directiva, “La Juventud y la Política,”

Falange, no. 1 (October 1933), 3.

57

Clemente Pérez Pérez, “Recuerdos de un Maestro de Juventud,” Estudios, no. 46 (September

1936), 30–39, here 35: “Deseo hacer lo mismo que en los primeros tiempos del cristianismo,
sacar a los jóvenes de sus casas a la calle para la lucha.”
58

Vives to José Llussá, Valparaíso, dated July 20, 1932, 2/C/Carp. 07. Colegio San Ignacio,

Santiago, CPV, ACJ.

719

BY ROSA BRUNO-JOFRÉ

in Chile to the Conservative Party and of the struggle over the control of the
Catholic Action. Apolitical meant unrelated to the Conservative Party and unaffiliated with any political party. It was, in itself, a political position. The advent
of the socialist republic on June 4, 1932, was the source of internal conflict in
the Liga Social since Blest and Vives, according to Monica Echeverría, had
expressed solidarity with the socialist republic. In fact, Liga Social representatives went to see the Junta at La Casa de la Moneda on June 4 to request
respect for religious ideas and social justice, as per the principles of the Liga
Social. Vives remained at the door. The representatives met with Arturo Matte
and Oscar Schnake, who assured them that religious persecution would not
occur, that the government shared the same goals with the Liga Social, and
59

that the government would have the spirit of the Liga Social.

In a letter to Llussá, Vives mentioned that after the 1932 election, more
young people had joined the Liga Social because they felt it was impossible to
60

do social work within the Conservative Party.

In such a climate, it is not a sur-

prise that the Conservative Party denounced the Liga Social for alienating
young people from the party. Falange describes the Liga Social (showing an
awareness of the limits set by the church hierarchy) as being in total submission
61

to the ecclesiastical hierarchy, something that obviously was not happening.

The Liga Social also was a means of putting the young from the middle
class in touch with the reality of the poor, acting effectively in the political
62

arena, forming a new social order, and promoting democratic tenets.

For

example, in September 1934, the Liga Social and the Association of Social
Workers of Chile organized a day devoted to workers’ issues. Topics included
eating and nutrition, wages, benefits, workers’ housing, unemployment, social
industrial services, and women as economic sustainers of the home. It was a
major project of popular education from the perspective of Catholic social
Christianity. At the time, Hurtado, one of Vives’s most beloved spiritual sons,
was in Leuven writing a thesis on John Dewey and trying to reconcile Dewey’s
pedagogical theory with Catholicism. He thus was providing a Catholic interpretation of

a participatory democratic pedagogy, even as he separated its
63

pragmatist foundations from the pedagogical theories.

59

Echeverría, Antihistoria, pp. 127–29.

60

Vives to Llussá, November 5, 1932, Santiago. 2/C/Carp. 07, Colegio S. Ignacio, CPV, ACJ.

61

“Que es la Liga Social?,” Falange [Santiago de Chile], no. 9, (April 1934), 2.

62

“La Junta Directiva,” p. 3.

63

Rosa Bruno-Jofré and Gonzalo Jover, “Lecturas de la Obra de John Dewey en Intersección

con el Catolicismo: Los casos de la Institución Libre de Enseñanza y la Tesis sobre Dewey del
Padre

Alberto

Hurtado,

S.J.,”

Encounters/Encuentros/Rencontres

http://library.queensu.ca/ojs/index.php/encounters

on

Education,

10

(2009),

3–22,

720

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN CHILE AND THE SOCIAL QUESTION IN THE 1930S

The notion of democracy that appeared early in Vives’s work acquired a
clearer meaning under the influence of Maritain. The Liga Social interpreted
Maritain’s concept of democracy as a social tendency and a form of government that aimed at giving human living conditions to the oppressed working
class. The latter was demanded not only by the sense of Christian charity but
by a commitment to justice. Maritain’s concerns with the religious myth of
democracy (as conceived by Rousseau) and the danger of confusing democ64

racy with a “dogma of sovereign people” also are mentioned.

The Liga Social

related to the notion of a corporative state as subsidiary and complementary,
with a number of organizations/associations as mediators able to fulfill many
65

of the functions of the state whose power would be thus limited.

The object of attacks by the Church and the Conservative Party and the
subject of

little support from the Society of

Jesus, Vives reflected on the

limits of liberal democracy, which was agnostic in terms of dogma and only
recognized the right of the individual to equality. The individual would only
become sovereign through sheer numbers. One day, he wrote, the sovereign
learned her lesson and tried to exercise the assumed prerogatives for her own
benefit, moving away from liberalism to a revolution that in Vives’s view, liberals could not accept because it touched their pockets. The point he made
was that liberalism could not counter the revolution, but the social Christian
66

doctrine could offer an independent alternative to the limits of liberalism.

Vives envisioned a new social order different from the agnostic utilitarianism and gross materialism that he placed respectively to the right and left of
an alternative Catholic order, one that was attacked by right-wing liberalism
and by the socialist Left. However, Vives’s main political enemies were within
the Conservative Party, its allies within the Catholic Church hierarchy, and the
Society of Jesus. The social Christian corporatist position expounded by Vives
and his rejection of political parties (mainly the Conservative Party) was seen
as divisive, one that would lead to a loss of influence of the Conservative Party
67

and the Catholic Church in Chilean politics.

Interestingly, those in the United

States with a social Christian (Protestant) reformist approach tried between
1910 and the late 1920s to transplant their conception of a Christian liberal
democracy and progressive pedagogies in Latin America through their schools
and

missions,

as

well

as

through

the

interdenominational

Committee

on

64

“La Democracy,” Falange, no. 7 (October 1934), 6.

65

Julio Philippi Izquierdo, “El Estado Totalitario,” Falange, no. 2 (May 1934), 1–2.

66

Vives, “Inconsecuencias,” La Unión, December 28, 1934.” Rpt. in Escritos del Padre Fernando

Vives del Solar, ed. Sagredo Baeza, pp. 445–46.
67

This

is

clear

in

the

exchange

“Catolicismo Social,” pp. 241–68.

of

letters

between

Llussá

and

Vives.

See

also

Botto,

721

BY ROSA BRUNO-JOFRÉ

Cooperation in Latin America. The Protestant reformists saw the Catholic
Church as the major enemy in Latin America not only for its religious intolerance but also for its conservative views—a perception that was not mitigated
68

by the existence of counter-movements inside the Church.

The correspondence with Llussa in 1932 shows that Vives informed the
vice-provincial of

69

his activities with great enthusiasm.

In February 1933,

Vives reported his experiences in the south, including his sojourn in Osorno
where he met a group of young people who had been organized by Eduardo
Frei the year before. However, in October 1933, under pressure from church
leaders and the Conservative Party, the tone of

the relationship changed.

Vives responded to what he understood as accusations of a lack of sincerity,
which he took seriously since he had suffered a great deal because of his sin70

cerity.

Vives’s response to Llussá also makes clear that the archbishop and a

few bishops accepted his work, and some distinguished conservative leaders
such as Alejo Lira, Rafael Gumucio, and Max Errázuriz as well as senators
had consulted him on current issues. Vives also mentioned the opposition
from Gilberto Fuenzalida G., bishop of Concepción, to the apolitical charac71

ter of the Liga Social.
approaches

and

the

Such testimony shows the development of various

interplay

of

power

within

the

Church

and

the

Conservative Party. In the same letter Vives wrote: “Among ‘el pueblo’ and
among workers the Jesuits are seen as conservative which is the same as
72

saying their enemies.”

The correspondence between Llussá and Vives, the

notes taken from Llussá’s meetings with the archbishop, the presentations for
and against Vives, the decisions (often made in secret), and the pressures on
73

the vice-provincial took on a dark tinge.

Vives complained that he had not

received any demonstration of trust from Llussá, since he was not given any
position within the Colegio San Ignacio or in other Jesuit-connected associa-

68

See

Rosa

Bruno-Jofré,

“To

Those

in

‘Heathen

Darkness’:

Deweyan

Democracy

and

Education in the American Interdenominational Configuration—The Case of the Committee on
Cooperation in Latin America,” in Democracy and the Intersection of

Religion and Traditions: The

Readings of John Dewey’s Understanding of Democracy and Education, ed. Rosa Bruno-Jofré, James Scott
Johnston, Gonzalo Jover, and Daniel Tröhler (Montreal, 2010), pp. 131–70.
69

Vives to Llussá, Chillán, November 5, 1932; Vives to Llussá, Valparaíso, June 14, 1932;

Vives to Llussá, Valparaíso, July 20, 1932. 2C/Carp 07. Colegio San Ignacio, CPV, ACJ.
70

Llussá to Vives dated September 4, 1933. Reply from Vives to Llussá, September 7, 1933

(date written in pencil by archivist). Llussá to Vives, October 8, 1933, in which Llussá seems very
distressed that his letter had caused great pain to Vives. 2C/Carp 07. Colegio San Ignacio,
Santiago, CPV, ACJ.
71

Vives to Llussá, Santiago, October 7, 1933 (date written in pencil by archivist); this is a

response to Llussá’s letter of October 4, 1933. 2C/Carp 07. Colegio San Ignacio, CPV, ACJ.
72

Collier and Sater, A History of

73

Chile, p. 213.

See 2/C/carp. 07, Santiago, Colegio S. Ignacio, CPV, ACJ.

722

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN CHILE AND THE SOCIAL QUESTION IN THE 1930S

tions and that he had a reputation outside the Colegio that his superiors did
74

not regard him with favor.

Vives’s profound pain also was felt by Llussá. By

November 1933, Vives refers to the perfect relations with the archbishop; he
mentioned

that

the

nuncio

was

preparing

a

memorandum

designed

to

counter the doctrines that some bishops wanted to prevail in the relations
75

among the Church, social action, and politics.

However, in the notes of

October 9, 1933 (a month before Vives’s comments) on the meeting of the
archbishop and Llussá, the archbishop stated that the bishops had advised
separating Vives from social action and removing him from Santiago. In the
bishops’ view, Vives created division and confusion more than anything positive. Llussá was in agreement with the archbishop. However, he related the
letter from Vives of October 7 in which Vives stated that the archbishop and
five bishops had said that he had nothing to correct, to which the archbishop
76

responded that those had been private responses.

Llussá was expected to

talk to Vives, which he did on October 10. Vives, however, continued in his
position with the Catholic Action. By 1933, the unity of the social Christian
youth group was broken when a faction, encouraged by the ecclesiastical hierarchy and the Conservative Party, joined the party as Juventud Conservadora
or Falange Nacional, where they remained until 1939. Meanwhile, the members of the Liga Social led by Vives, having a more radical agenda, remained
outside the party.
Vives was faithful to his profound religious love for the poor; his convictions; his utopian vision of a new society; and, as he said, his conscience. In
his letter of

October 7, 1933, to Llussá, he wrote in response to constant

accusations:
I have a very peaceful conscience and although it is painful to think that there are
those who take advantage of my situation as religious, in particular my vow of obedience to my RP [reverend father] to influence the RP on my way of doing things,
I solemnly declare that I will not change in my thought or in my work and that I
prefer to take the way of exile to Colombia or Peru, where I have good friends,
rather than to alter the direction that the Pope and the Fathers of the Society [of
77

Jesus] have drawn.

74

Vives to Llussá, Santiago, October 7, 1933 (date written in pencil by archivist).

2/C/Carp

07. Colegio San Ignacio, CPV, ACJ.
75

Vives to Llussá, Santiago, November 9, 1933. 2/C/carp 07. Colegio San Ignacio, Santiago,

CPV, ACJ.
76

Notes written by Llussá after the meeting with the archbishop, Santiago, October 9, 1933,

2/C/Carp 07. Colegio San Ignacio, Santiago, CPV, ACJ. The second page of the document is
missing.
77

Vives Llussá, Santiago, October 7, 1933 (date written in pencil by archivist). 2/C/carp. 07,

Colegio San Ignacio, Santiago, CPV, ACJ. “Yo tengo una conciencia muy tranquila y aunque me

BY ROSA BRUNO-JOFRÉ

723

As previously mentioned, Vives’s position on Catholics belonging to a particular
party was strengthened in 1934 when Pacelli, in a letter from Rome, stated that
78

there was no obligation for the Catholics to be tied to the Conservative Party.

Vives’s problems with the Church were exacerbated when he published
the prologue to the book written by Luis María Acuña C, Doctrinas Sociales de
Marx, las Grandes Líneas de la Economía Social. The political language of Falange
became sharper in the midst of fierce political attacks and censorship from
the bishops and the Society of
79

Conservative Party.

Jesus, as well as from members of

the

On September 3, 1935, eighteen days before Vives‘s

death, the article “Al pueblo hay que decirle la verdad” (To the people we need
to tell the truth) in Falange stated: “We should publicly recognize that there
have been and are now Catholics who are unworthy of being called Catholics
80

given their behavior with the working class.”

Late in 1934, the bishops agreed that Vives’s influence on the young and
on all those with whom he talked or did work on social questions was prejudicial given his independence, lack of respect for authority, and lack of docile
81

behavior.

The Catholic Action decided that Vives could not continue as

director of its Social Secretariat, and a complex set of secret meetings and
82

bureaucratic procedures ensued.

It is significant that Llussá went to Ettore

sea muy doloroso pensar que hay quienes aprvechan de mi situación de religioso, sometido con
voto de obediencia a V. R. para influir, por medio de V.R. en mi modo de obrar, le declaro solemnemente que no cambiaré ni en mis pensamientos ni en mis obras en este particular y que prefiero antes tomar por tercera vez el camino del destierro, y sino a Colombia, ir al Perú, donde
tengo buenos amigos. Todo menos alterar el rumbo que me trazan a Sta Sede y los Superiores de
la Compañía.”
78

See Sofía Correa, “El Corporativismo Como Expresión Política del SocialCristianismo,” in

Catolicismo social Chileno, ed. Berríos, Costadoat and García, pp. 279–80.
79

The following note is quite revealing of the difficulties encountered by the Society. At the

beginning of December 1934, D. Manuel Cifuentes Gómez had complained about Vives because
he attributed to the priest’s influence the decision of two of his sons at the Colegio San Ignacio
to oppose the Conservative Party. He was collecting signatures questioning among other things
that Vives was giving some sociology lessons. One of the papers was ready to publish the letter
with the signatures. Interestingly, the rector had himself encouraged Cifuentes to collect the signatures as a way to know, he said, how many and who were complaining. Llussá dissuaded him
and Cifuentes from proceeding. Nota. 2/C/Carp 07, Colegio San Ignacio, CPV, ACJ.
80

“Al Pueblo hay que Decirle la Verdad,” Falange [Santiago, Chile], no. 16 (September 3, 1935),

3: “… reconozcamos públicamente que ha habido y que hay actualmente católicos indignos de
llamarse tales por su comportamiento con la clase obrera.”
81

These qualifications appear in the note relating the conversation about Vives among the

archbishop (on occasion of

this visit to the Colegio San Ignacio), the rector, and Llussá, on

December 9, 1934. 2/C/Carp 07, Colegio San Ignacio, Santiago, CPV, ACJ.
82

Journal notes referring to the visit of

the archbishop to the Colegio San Ignacio on

December 9, 1934. 2/C/Carp. 07, Colegio San Ignacio, CPV, ACJ.

724

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN CHILE AND THE SOCIAL QUESTION IN THE 1930S

Felici, the nuncio, with whom he previously had talked about Vives’s performance in the Catholic Action and the unhappiness of

the Conservative

Party, to communicate the resolution of the Catholic Action and the matters
that he had discussed with the archbishop on December 9. The archbishop
wanted the opinion of

the nuncio. The nuncio replied that he would not

83

weigh in on the matter.

Vives’s dismissal early in 1935 had a tremendous effect in Chilean political circles. An article of February 1935 in the independent newspaper La
Opinión questioned the decision to remove Vives, given the appreciation for
his ideas and his opposition to interference by the Conser vative Party in the
Catholic Action. The surprise was even greater, states the article, because
the pope made clear the independence of
from

the

right-wing

parties.

Father

the social work of

Roman,

described as close to the Conser vative Party.

84

who

replaced

the Church
Vives,

was

The communist paper Hoy

described Vives as a voice of the social Christian avant-garde, as someone
with a vision of the Church as an interpreter of the pain of the poor and a
critic of exploitation.

85

Strong opposition to Vives by the bishops and by Monsignor Rafael
Edwards, assessor of

the Catholic Action until 1938, further complicated

Vives’s life. Edwards believed Vives had done great damage in dividing lay
Catholics and priests, particularly through his aversion to the Conservative
86

Party.

Furthermore, in March 1935, Edwards intended to resign if Vives was

reinstated as director of the Social Secretariat of the Catholic Action. It is
interesting that a note of March 23 on the meeting of the vice-provincial with
the nuncio revealed that the nuncio found Edwards’s position against Vives
exaggerated and passionate, and he made clear that both Vives and Edwards
87

had to be heard.

The note concludes: “If Father Vives goes to the North

with Mgr. Caro for a few months, it would help to calm down much and give

83

Notes of

the meeting of

Llussá with the nuncio [Ettore Felici] on December 12, 1934.

2/C/Carp 07, Colegio San Ignacio, CPV, ACJ. The name of the nuncio is not on the document;
there is only reference to the nuncio.
84

“Qué pasa con los Jesuitas? Incidencia y Campañas Conservadoras que Determinan la

Salida del Padre

Jesuita Fernando Vives del Solar. Maniobras de los Políticos contra Este

Sacerdote Habrían Hallado Eco entre los Superiores Jesuitas,” La Opinión [Santiago, Chile], year
III, no. 979 (February 4, 1935), 2.
85

“El Conservatismo de las Alturas contra Roma,” Hoy [Santiago, Chile], year IV, no. 169,

February 15, 1935.
86

Rafael Edwards to Llussá, Santiago, October 19, 1933; Notes of a meeting of Llussá with

Edwards, March 1935, 2/C/Carp 07, Colegio San Ignacio, correspondencia Padre Vives, ACJ.
87

Note of the meeting of Llussá with the nuncio [Felici] dated March 23, 1935, 2/C/Carp07,

Colegio San Ignacio, CPV, ACJ. The document refers to the nuncio.

BY ROSA BRUNO-JOFRÉ

725

some time. We should make any other determinations within so much diver88

sity of views and confusion.”

The role of Archbishop Campillo deserves special attention. As previously
noted, he had asked Vives to accept the position as director of

the Social

Secretariat. A June 20, 1935, letter addressed to Jesuit Assistant General for
Spain Fernando Gutiérrez del Olmo makes clear the tremendous tension
between Vives and Edwards, and the position of the archbishop about the
controversy surrounding Vives. The archbishop is paraphrased as saying that
he did not have anything against Vives, but that the majority of those who
were on the Directive Council of the Catholic Action (Consejo Directivo de
la Acción Católica) opposed Vives. The letter also stated that Vives’s removal
from positions in the Catholic Action pleased most bishops, who also wished
89

for Vives’s removal from Santiago.

The archbishop did not want to oppose

the Directive Council of the Catholic Action, nor did he wish to be regarded
as responsible for sending Vives out of Santiago. The solution seemed to be
that Llussá would remove Vives from Santiago until the “storm” was over,
and the archbishop would not be associated with this decision. Sofía Correa
has argued that social Christian corporatism was not well received by either
the Conservative Party or the ecclesiastical hierarchy.
The last months of Vives’s life were painful ones; the archbishop and the
Society censored his writings because of an interview published in the periodical Proa, Ideario de la Federación de Estudiantes de Chile in July 1935. In this
interview, Vives characterized the Right and the Left as economic tendencies—the Right as a keeper of a past regimen, and the Left as a promoter of
90

a new order.

The accusations against him continued. A day before his death,

he gave his cross to Blest. Tired, he said that another would continue his
work—meaning his mentee, Hurtado.

Conclusion
Vives’s formative years in Spain, his travels within Europe, and his exposure to new theological approaches (mainly emerging neo-Thomism) nourished his social commitment that was rooted in his faith and understanding

88

Note of the meeting of Llussá with the nuncio dated March 23, 1935, C/Carp 07, Colegio

San Ignacio, CPV, ACJ. Si el Padre Vives se va unos meses al norte con Monseñor Caro, servirá
para calmar un tanto y dar tiempo. Mas determinaciones en tanta diversidad de pareceres y tanta
confusión no debemos tomarlas nosotros.”
89

Letter (without signature) addressed to Padre Asistente [Fernando Gutiérrez del Olmo],

dated Santiago June 20, 1935, 2/C/Carp 07. Colegio San Ignacio, CPV, ACJ.
90

“La Cuestión Social Vista por un Jesuíta: Don Fernando Vives del Solar Nos Habla Sobre

la Cuestión Social, Proa, July 1935,” in Escritos, ed. Sagredo Baeza, pp. 479–81.

726

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN CHILE AND THE SOCIAL QUESTION IN THE 1930S

of Christianity. He saw firsthand the limits of a project that combined capital and labor in the efforts to organize the working class, lived through the
resistance on the part of the powerful, understood the moral limits of philanthropy, and explored the avenues to a new social order. The 1920s were
times of upheaval for the Catholic Church in Spain, full of attempts at a political pedagogical discourse that could combat the growing presence of socialists, anarchists, and communists as well as the threat of a republic. His life and
the persecution he suffered in Chile in the early part of the twentieth century
and after 1931 reflect the complex process of

reception and adoption of

supranational documents such as Rerum Novarum and the various readings of
encyclicals.

Vives tried to articulate a vision of a new social Catholic order in Chile and
worked to make its representatives interlocutors on the political scene. This
vision and the political pedagogical discourse that he enacted must be considered along with the tenets that support it, particularly his interpretation of
charity and its relation to justice and the common good, which lie at the core
of Vives’s ethical force. These understandings inform his political positions,
including his notion of corporatism, his reading of socialism, his elaboration
of Christian democratic ideas, and his critique of individualism. The impact
of his dismissal on Chilean political life attests to the effect of his presence
and the relevance of his position, which was supported by many, including
clergy. Shortly after his dismissal from the Catholic Action and serious incidents generated by his writings, there was great pressure to remove him from
Santiago or even from the country. Some members of the clergy advised waiting. Vives, who had been ill, died on September 21, 1935. That year, Hurtado
defended his thesis on Dewey at the Catholic University of

Leuven and

returned to Chile in February 1936 to take up the cause left by Vives.

REVIEW ARTICLE
LIGHT FROM GERMANY ON VATICAN COUNCIL II
BY

JARED WICKS, S.J.*
Julius Kardinal Döpfner. Konzilstagebücher, Briefe und Notizen zum Zweiten Vatikanischen
Konzil. Edited by Giudo Treffler. [Schriften des Archivs des Erzbistums München
und Freising, 9.] (Regensburg: Schnell und Steiner. 2006. Pp. li, 730. €19,90. ISBN
978-3-7954-1771-0.)
Joseph

Ratzinger,

Zur

Lehre

des

Zweiten

Vatikanischen

Konz ils.

Formulierung—

Vermittlung—Deutung [Joseph Ratzinger Gesammelte Schriften, edited by Gerhard
Ludwig Müller, 7/1–2.] (Freiburg: Herder. 2012. Pp. 1250. Vol. 7/1: €60,00, ISBN
978-3-451-34124-3; Vol. 7/2: €60,00, ISBN 978-3-451-34043-7.)
Das Zweite Vatikanische Konzil (1962–1965). Stand und Perspektiven der kirchenhistorischen
Forschung im deutschsprachigen Raum. Edited by Franz Xaver Bischof. [Münchener
Kirchenhistorischen Studien. Neue Folge, 1.] (Stuttgart: Verlag W. Kohlhammer,
2012. Pp. 242. €39,90. ISBN 978-3-17-022220-5.)
Erneurung in Christus. Das Zweite Vatikanische Konzil (1962–1965) im Spiegel Münchener
Kirchenarchive. Edited by Andreas R. Batlogg, S.J.; Clemens Brotkorb; and Peter
Pfister.

[Schriften

des

Archivs

des

Erzbistums

München

und

Freising,

16.]

(Regensburg: Schnell und Steiner, 2012. €19,95. ISBN 978-3-7954 2686-6.)
Personenlexikon zum Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzil. Edited by Michael Quisinski and Peter
Walter (Freiburg: Herder, 2012. €38,00. ISBN 978-3-451-30330-2.)

This review article continues the work of four earlier presentations of newly published

source-documents

and

scholarly

studies

on

the

Second

Vatican

1

Council.

Discussed here are the following recent German contributions: (1) an edition of the
Council diaries, selected letters, and notes of Cardinal Julius Döpfner, archbishop of

*Father Wicks is scholar-in-residence at the Pontifical College Josephinum in Columbus, OH,
email: jwicks@jcu.edu.
Jared Wicks, “New Light on Vatican Council II,” The Catholic Historical Review, 92 (2006),

1

609–28; “More Light on Vatican Council II,” The Catholic Historical Review, 94 (2008), 75–101;
“Further Light on Vatican Council II,” The Catholic Historical Review, 95 (2009), 546–69; and “Still
More Light on Vatican Council II,” The Catholic Historical Review, 98 (2012), 476–502. The onevolume history of the Council by Roberto de Mattei presented in “Still More Light” is now translated as The Second Vatican Council. An Unwritten Story (Fitzwillam, NH, 2012). Klaus Schatz has
treated it extensively in “Ein kirchliches 1789. Zu einer traditionalistischen Sicht auf das Zweite
Vatikanum,” Theologie und Philosophie, 88 (2013), 47–71.

727

728

LIGHT FROM GERMANY ON VATICAN COUNCIL II

Munich and member of the main directive bodies of the Council; (2) the collection of
the writings of Joseph Ratzinger concerning the Council from 1960 to 2005; (3) a multiauthored survey of

research on the Council in the German-language area; (4) an

exhibition catalog, with twelve studies, of

Council materials and documents from

three archives in Munich; and (5) a one-volume prosopological dictionary of persons
active at the Council.

Docu ments of Cardinal Julius Döpfner’s Participation and
Leadership at the Second Vatican Council
It has been a commonplace of

Second Vatican Council research that German

scholarship has lagged behind that of
mainly

because
2

researchers.

German

diocesan

other nations, especially Belgium and Italy,

archives

observe

long

periods

of

closure

to

A breakthrough came in 2001 when Cardinal Friedrich Wetter of Munich

opened the Council archive of his predecessor, Cardinal Julius Döpfner, for scholarly
research. Four years later, the Munich diocesan archivists brought out an inventory of
3

Döpfner’s Council papers, which is a model of its genre.

The work presented here

offers documents that make easily accessible the diaries and 474 selected texts of correspondence and notes of this leading figure of the Second Vatican Council.
Döpfner, a priest of the Diocese of Würzburg, was bishop of his home diocese
from 1948 to 1957. Named bishop of Berlin in early 1957, he became well known for
hosting the Katholikentag of 1958. Pope John XXIII created him cardinal in December
1958 and in July 1961 appointed him archbishop of Munich. Döpfner served on the
Council’s Central Preparatory Commission, the body that evaluated in 1961–62 the
draft schemas produced by the particular preparatory commissions. As the Council
opened in 1962, Döpfner was named to the Secretariat for Extraordinary Affairs.
After Period I, John XXIII made him one of the seven members of the Commission
for Coordinating the Work of the Council, which supervised the conciliar commissions during their revision of schemas in early 1963 and then during further work on
the Council documents. In September 1963 Pope Paul VI named Döpfner one of the
four Council Moderators, along with Cardinals Gregorio P. Agagianian, Giacomo
4

Lercaro, and Léon-Joseph Suenens.

2

Klaus Wittstadt, “Deutsche Quellen zum II. Vatikanum,” in Sources locales de Vaticanum II, ed.

Jan Grootaers and Claude Soetens, [Instrumenta Theologica, 8], (Leuven, 1990), pp. 19–32. For
an informative updating on sources and studies, see Franz Xaver Bischof, “On the State of
German-Speaking Research,” in Cristianesimo nella storia, 31, no. 1 (2013), 41–68. In the same issue
Joachim

Schmiedl

provides

an

informative

survey,

“Die

deutschen

Bischöfe

während

des

Konzils,” pp. 69–91.
3

Guido Treffler and Peter Pfister, eds., Erzbischöfliches Archiv München—Julius Karinal Döpfner.

Archivinventar

der

Dokumente

zum

Zweiten

Vatikanischen

Konzil.

[Schriften

des

Archivs

des

Erzbistums München und Freising, 6], (Regensburg, 2005). The inventory catalogs 5397 documents and enhances its usefulness by 168 pages of indices of places, persons, and topics.
4

The biography by Klaus Wittstadt is Julius Kardinal Döpfner (1913–1976). Anwalt Gottes und der

Menschen (Munich, 2001). Wittstadt’s publications on Döpfner are listed in the bibliography of the
Treffler-Pfister Archivsinventar, pp. 42–44. Döpfner visited the United States in October 1966 and

729

BY JARED WICKS, S.J.

The 2006 publication gives Döpfner’s diary notes that add to what is known about
5

the 1962 meetings of the Council’s Secretariat for Extraordinary Affairs.

At its first

meeting on October 16, 1962, the Secretariat received a written proposal by Cardinal
Augustin Bea that Pope John’s discourses should give the Council a broadly open, pastoral direction. This had pleased the pope, along with Suenens and Döpfner, but
Cardinal Giuseppe Siri raised doubts about Bea’s position at the second meeting on
6

October 19.

Also at the second meeting, Cardinal Giovanni Batista Montini offered

a plan of the Council’s topics in their logical order—treating the Church in its mystery,

mission,

and

relations

ad

extra—but

Döpfner

noted

that

Cardinal

Carlo

Confalonieri said that although Montini’s plan was elegant, it offered no help toward
practical results. Döpfner urged that the Fathers should be told at least about the range
of

7

themes that the Council would take up.

At the Secretariat’s fourth meeting on

November 5, Döpfner proposed a method (subsequently adopted) for voting in the
8

General Congregation to close discussion on a topic.

On November 9, at the fifth

spoke at times on the Council and its consequences. Vincent A. Yzermans edited the six talks in
A Cardinal’s Visit (St. Paul, 1966).
5

The official name was “Secretariatus de Concilii negotiis extra ordinem,” and its role was to

process interventions on procedure submitted by the Council Fathers. The members were
Cardinals Stefan Wyszyński, Giovanni Battista Montini, Carlo Confalonieri, Albert Gregory
Meyer, Döpfner, Siri, and Suenens, with Cardinal Secretary of
presider.

The

Secretariat’s

importance

was

underscored

by

State Amleto G. Cicognani, as

beginning

its

first

meeting,

on

October 16, 1962, in the papal library in the presence of John XXIII. Reports on two of the
Secretariat’s meetings are given in Acta Synodialia, V, pt. 1:28–29 (meeting of October 16) and VI,
pt. 1:209–10 (meeting of October 19). But Acta Synodalia, V, pt. 1:30 errs in stating that no further record was made. The Döpfner Archive Inventory of

2004 indicates summary reports

among the holdings on meetings 3 (October 26, document no. 3243) through 8 (November 30,
document no. 3266). To date, the main source of information on the Secretariat has been Siri’s
diary, given as the appendix in Benny Lai, Il Papa non eletto. Giuseppi Siri cardinal di Santa Romana
Chiesa (Bari, 1993), pp. 356–83, treating the Secretariat’s meetings on pp. 363–64, 365–66,
371–72, 377. Accounts of the Secretariat’s work are scattered through the History of

Vatican II;

see Giuseppe Alberigo and Joseph Komonchak, gen. eds., Vol. 2: The Formation of

the Council’s

Identity. First Period and Intersession (Maryknoll, NY, and Leuven, 1997), 57–58, 62–65, 203, 247n29,
340–41, 397n73, 510.
6

Bea’s proposal of

the overriding pastoral goals of

the Council, drawing on Pope John’s

addresses, is in Acta Synodalia, VI, pt. 1:200–04, followed by Siri’s critical observations on pp.
204–06. The diary entry by Döpfner indicates that at the October 16 meeting Suenens also presented a text giving rules for the work of the Council; see Treffler, ed., Döpfner. Konzilstagebücher,
Briefe und Notizen, p. 6. The Döpfner Archivinventar lists at no. 3242 a 5-page Latin proposal of
October 19, 1962, in which Suenens proposed the goal of the Council and the methods of work
by which to realize it. The Acta Synodalia do not give Suenens’s text, but Mathijs Lamberigts and
Leo Declerck treat it in “The Role of Cardinal Léon-Joseph Seunens at Vatican II,” in The Belgian
Contribution to the Second Vatican Council, ed. Doris Donnelly et al., [Bibliotheca Ephemeridum
Theologiciarum Lovaniensium, 216], (Leuven, 2008), pp. 61–217, here pp. 75–78.
7

Montini’s

plan

is

in

Acta

Synodalia,

VI,

pt.

1:206–08,

whereas

Döpfner’s

jotting

on

Confalonieri’s judgment and his own proposal is in Treffler, ed., Döpfner. Konzilstagebücher, Briefe
und Notizen, p. 6.
8

Treffler, ed., Döpfner. Konzilstagebücher, Briefe und Notizen, pp. 286–87.

730

LIGHT FROM GERMANY ON VATICAN COUNCIL II

meeting, the group accepted Döpfner’s proposal that all the schemas should be
9

reduced to their essential points.

This anticipated the directives given by Pope John

to all the Council commissions as Period I ended.
The Döpfner diaries continue with his notes during the meetings of the Council’s
Coordinating Commission, which in effect replaced the Secretariat for Extraordinary
Affairs as the first intersession began in January 1963. This new Council directorate
exercised an attentive supervision of the particular commissions’ work to reduce their
extensive prepared material and to revise their texts in harmony with the Council’s aim
10

of pastoral renewal.

Each member was assigned to oversee and report to the com-

mission on the progress of several schemas, with Döpfner attending to the drafts on
Bishops and Diocesan Governance, the Renewal of Religious Life, the Care of Souls,
and later the Church’s Missionary Activity.
The letters now published provide insight on Döpfner’s interactions during the
Council with his fellow Council leaders such as Cardinal Secretary of State Amleto
Cicognani (fifteen letters); as well as with Bea (fifteen letters), Suenens (eight letters),
and Lercaro (eight letters). Although Döpfner spoke sharply in the Council Aula on
November

17,

1962,

against

approving

the

schema

De

fontibus

revelationis

of

the

Preparatory Theological Commission, he visited that commission’s president, Cardinal
Alfredo Ottaviani, on January 26, 1963, for an open and fraternal conversation, to
emphasize that in intervening he did not mean to offend Ottaviani personally. But he
also said he thought it wrong for the head of the Holy Office (Ottaviani) to be fighting on behalf of his commission’s schemas in the front lines of battle. His role should
11

be to observe others carefully and, when needed, to admonish them.

9

Treffler, ed., Döpfner. Konzilstagebücher, Briefe und Notizen, p. 7. Döpfner’s brief notes during

the ninth and last meeting of the Secretariat on December 5, 1962, are given on p. 306.
10

The original members of the “Commissio de Concilii laboribus coordinandis,” appointed

on December 14, 1962, were Cardinals Achille Liénart, Francis Spellman, Suenens, Döpfner,
Confalonieri, and Giovanni Urbani, with Cicognani serving as praeses. Paul VI added Cardinals
Agagianian, Lercaro, and Francesco Roberti to the commission on August 21, 1963. Acta synodalia, V, in its three parts, presents the work of the Coordinating Commission with all desired
fullness, giving many proposed schemas, the written evaluations of these by the responsible cardinals, minutes of the meetings, and decisions then sent back to the commissions.
11

Döpfner’s

notes

in

preparation

for

the

visit

are

provided

in

Treffler,

ed.,

Döpfner.

Konzilstagebücher, Briefe und Notizen, pp. 356–57. The November 17 Aula intervention is in Acta
Synodialia, I, pt. 3:124–26. Döpfner had expressed his misgivings about Ottaviani’s Preparatory
Theological

Commission

in

a

September

24,

1962,

letter

to

Cardinal

Bernard

Jan

Alfrink.

Döpfner senses, from various reports, that Sebastian Tromp, S.J., the secretary of the commission, considers the bishops theologically underdeveloped and careless about the circulation of
errors of the day. Also, the schemas presented to the Council by this commission adopted very
few of the changes called for during their review by the Central Preparatory Commission. See
Treffler,

ed.,

Döpfner.

Konzilstagebücher,

Ratzinger’s incisive critique of

Briefe

und

Notizen,

pp.

276–77.

Döpfner

had

heard

De fontibus revelationis at the October 10, 1962, meeting of

the

German-speaking bishops, the day before the Council opened. His notes from the Ratzinger lecture are in Treffler, ed., Döpfner, Konzilstagebücher, Briefe und Notizen, pp. 282–83. On Ratzinger’s
lecture, see the next section in its “Part B.”

731

BY JARED WICKS, S.J.

A notable addition to our knowledge of the Council is Döpfner’s letter, with two
attached texts, sent on July 19, 1963, to the newly elected Pope Paul VI, who had asked
12

the cardinal to suggest ways to make progress in the Council.

Döpfner proposed,

first, a review of the existing schemas with a view to setting aside texts that showed
little

promise

of

contributing

toward

the

Council’s

principal

goals.

The

goal,

in

Döpfner’s view, was the Church’s pastoral renewal, but a theological grounding was
required at the same time. For the cardinal, ecumenical openness must be a criterion
in examining every document. He believed that work toward the pastoral goal should
unfold within a universal context where topics are considered that have significance
for all peoples. Döpfner recommended that the pope should maintain the conciliar
freedom of discussion but consider reducing the number of plenary meetings each
week by at least one, so as to give more time for commissions to work and for
exchanges in the episcopal conferences. He felt that the Coordinating Commission
should be confirmed in its role and should begin proposing measures for the postconciliar period. He did not think a systematic plan needed to be imposed on the
Council, since its pastoral aim was already bringing the texts into coherence with each
other. He saw ecclesiology as unifying the work in Period II, by treating the schemas
on

the

Church,
13

Apostolate.

the

Blessed

Virgin

Mary,

Ecumenism,

Bishops,

and

the

Lay

For Period III, he recommended consideration of the drafts on the Care

of Souls, Missionary Activity, and the Church in the Modern World.

Döpfner gave Paul VI a frank evaluation of schemas that were problematic in mid1963. Few impulses for church renewal can be foreseen from the drafts on Priests,
Seminaries, Religious Life, and Schools, whereas the draft texts on Sacraments, with
the exception of one on mixed marriages, should be relegated to the revision of canon
law. Döpfner’s central passion was to give the Council a much narrower focus than was
evident in most early drafts of the commissions. This letter documents Paul VI’s early

12

Treffler, ed., Döpfner, Konzilstagebücher, Briefe und Notizen, pp. 476–87. The exhibition cata-

log, Erneuerung in Christus, also gives this text on pp. 279–87. Paul VI had asked for this advice on
the day of his coronation, June 30. The appended Text 1 contains Döpfner’s evaluations, both
positive and critical, of the coronation liturgy. For Text 2, on the Council (pp. 481–87), Döpfner
had sought proposals from Johannes Hirschmann, S.J., peritus of the Council Commission on the
Lay Apostolate. See p. 463 (Döpfner’s request of

Hirschmann’s help on July 2) and p. 487

(Döpfner’s acknowledgment on July 20 that Hirschmann’s ideas on the Council had become part
of

the material that had gone to Paul VI). Klaus Wittstadt presented this text in a memorial

volume twenty years after Döpfner’s death: “Vorschläge von Julius Kardinal Döpfner an Papst
Paul VI. zur Fortführung der Konzilsarbeiten (Juli 1963),” in Julius Kardinal Döpfner. 26. August
1913 bis 24. Juli 1976, [Würzburger Diözesangeschichtsblätter 58, Ergänzungsband] (Würzburg, 1996),
pp. 135–56. Wittstadt adds texts from other papers in which Döpfner proposed ways to enhance
the Council’s organization and efficiency.
13

These five were in fact discussed during Period II. Soon after Döpfner’s letter, Bea sent to

the

Coordinating

Commission

two

Annexes

to

the

Ecumenism

schema,

on

the

Jews

and

Religious Liberty, which became new topics and in time distinct schemas that unleashed heated
discussion at the Council. See Treffler, ed., Döpfner. Konzilstagebücher, Briefe und Notizen, pp. 500–01,
518–19, in which Bea proposes these added texts for Döpfner’s backing in the Coordinating
Commission.

732

LIGHT FROM GERMANY ON VATICAN COUNCIL II

gathering of

opinion, which led to his resolute measures in the weeks just before
14

Period II opened on September 29, 1963.

The 2006 publication of diaries, correspondence, and notes also shows Döpfner’s
energy and precision in coordinating the meetings before and during the Council of
the German-speaking and Scandinavian bishops, especially for preparing common
observations

on

the

schemas

presented

by

the

commissions.

Döpfner regularly gave the bishops informative overviews of

At

these

sessions,

the present state of

work at the Council, to which he had privileged access through his service on the
15

directive bodies.

For the bishops’ meetings and for his interventions on the schemas,

Döpfner made wide use of periti of theological, biblical, and canonical expertise, to
16

whom he regularly sent newly circulated schemas for evaluation.

But the bishops’

observations on drafts rarely came directly from periti, since Döpfner delegated bishops familiar with the area of each draft to gather their fellow bishops’ comments, such
as Joseph Schröffer (Eichstadt) for doctrinal topics, Lorenz Jaeger (Paderborn) for
ecumenical texts, and Franz Hengsbach (Essen) for the schema on the Church in the
Modern World.
A further contribution of this publication points toward a topic of vital importance needing systematic study. The published letters include several reports sent to
Döpfner in 1966 on difficulties encountered in the postconciliar commissions because
of the claims of congregations of the Roman Curia to oversee and direct the imple17

mentation stage of work.

Professor and Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger as Council

peritus

and Interpreter
In

2007

Pope

Benedict

XVI

entrusted

Bishop

Gerhard

Ludwig

Müller

of

Regensburg and the Institut-Papst-Benedikt XVI with the project of publishing a six-

14

In volume 2 of the History of

Vatican II, Jan Grootaers speaks of the early months of Paul

VI’s pontificate as “being marked by indecision and compromise,” followed by “decisive measures” by the pope regarding the Council in September 1963 (pp. 306–07). Döpfner’s letter makes
clear that Paul VI undertook an important consultation on the Council beginning on the coronation day of June 30.
15

The cardinal’s notes for these presentations are given regularly throughout Treffler, ed.,

Döpfner. Konzilstagebücher, Briefe und Notizen. Döpfner also invited episcopal observers from France,
Belgium, and The Netherlands to the meetings. Several such meetings were held in Innsbruck,
Austria, to facilitate attendance by bishops of the dioceses of communist East Germany.
16

The letters selected for the 2006 volume show him interacting with periti such as Bernhard

Häring, Klaus Mörsdorf, Michael Schmaus, Hubert Jedin, Richard Egenter, Klemens Tilmann,
Joseph Pascher, Karl Rahner, Rudolf Schnackenburg, Heinrich Fries, Johannes Hirschman, and
Aloys Grillmeier. A partial study of

this is done by Karen Nußbaum, “Klaus Mörsdorf

und

Michael Schmaus als Konzilsberater des Münchener Erzbischofs Kardinal Julius Döpfner auf
dem Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzil,” in Münchener Theologische Zeitschrift, 5 (2004), 132–50.
17

Treffler,

ed.,

Döpfner.

Konzilstagebücher,

Briefe

und

Notizen,

pp.

701–03

Gargitter, on implementing Christus Dominus on the Pastoral Office of

(Bishop

Joseph

Bishops, dated May 5,

733

BY JARED WICKS, S.J.

teen-volume edition of

18

all the pope’s writings composed under his own name.

Volume 7 (2012) of this edition contains Joseph Ratzinger’s works both as a peritus
before and during the Council and then as an interpreter of the Council’s doctrine.
The new volume presents seventy-five texts by Ratzinger in seven parts, followed by
an appendix on the occasion for each text and on the archival source or place of each
text’s first publication. What follows will report on a selected number of these texts,
especially those less likely to be known to North American readers.

Part A, “On the Eve of

the Council,” first offers two 1960 essays valuable for

expressing Ratzinger’s Eucharistic ecclesiology. There follows a wide-ranging survey
of

the cultural-intellectual world, unified by technology, which the Second Vatican

Council will address, contrasting this with the Eurocentrism of ninety years earlier at
the

First

Vatican

Council.

Ratzinger

wrote

this

for

Frings’s

lecture

in

Genoa

in

November 1961 that subsequently was published in a German, French, and Italian
19

version and was read by John XXIII with approval.

Then, an investigation of the

theology of councils shows Ratzinger arguing with Hans Küng, who drew from councils a notion of

20

the Church as “an ecumenical council convoked by God.”

For

Ratzinger, however concilium and ekklēsia may relate etymologically, councils are secondary elements in a Church whose essential mission is to mediate the living Word of
God in the world. In councils, bishops gather with their primate to discern how to witness rightly to God’s word and to prescribe norms of Church life in the world.

Part B, “Collaboration,” shows Ratzinger’s work as a Council theological peritus.
With others, he helped initiate the first major drama of the Council, as it set aside large
portions of the officially prepared schemas. In spring 1962 Frings, a member of the
Central Preparatory Commission, became dissatisfied with the presentation by the
preparatory commissions of the uncoordinated mass of largely mediocre draft texts.
He thus charged Ratzinger with crafting a mission statement to give criteria for selecting drafts that showed promise of advancing the Council goals. The new edition gives
the original Latin of this introductory constitution, in which Ratzinger/Frings would
have the Council propose to witness to Christ in a changed world, so as to reinvigorate Catholic life, adapt many practices, promote the lay apostolate, and thus attract

1966), 706–07 (Bishop Franz Hengsbach, on a draft applying Apostolicam Actuositatem on the Lay
Apostolate, dated May 17, 1966), 708–09 (Bishop Carl Joseph Leiprecht, on measures following
from Perfectae Charitatis on renewal of religious life, dated May 21, 1966).
18

Most will be from before his election as pope on April 18, 2005, but the three volumes of

Jesus of

Nazareth will be included as well. Annual reports from the institute began appearing in

2008 as Mitteilungen des Institut-Papst-Benedikt XVI. The overall plan of the collected writings is in
Mitteilungen, 1 (2008), 117.
19

The evidence for Ratzinger’s ghostwriting this text for Frings, and for Pope John’s positive

response, is given by Norbert Trippen, Josef

Kardinal Frings (1877–1978), 2 vols. (Paderborn,

2003–05), 2:239–41. The text appears in Jared Wicks, “Six Texts by Prof. Joseph Ratzinger as peritus before and during Vatican Council II,” Gregorianum, 89 (2008), 233–311, here 234–36, 253–61
(summary with selected English trans.).
20

See Küng’s Structures of

the Church (New York, 1964), pp. 9–15.

734

LIGHT FROM GERMANY ON VATICAN COUNCIL II

21

separated Christians to unity in one house at the one table of the Lord.

Also for

Frings, Ratzinger evaluated in September 1962 the schemas proposed for treatment
during the Council’s first period. Frings thought so highly of the assessment that he
sent it to Cicognani as his own evaluation of the texts. Ratzinger considered that the
drafts on liturgy and on promoting unity with the Orthodox were fine and could well
be taken up first, but four texts from the Preparatory Theological Commission were
problematic. In Ratzinger’s view, a schema on preserving the deposit of faith was alien
to the Council’s goals and so should be set aside, whereas those on moral principles
and sexuality needed to have an entirely new and uplifting focus. The peritus believed
that the text on the sources of revelation required extensive revision, including the
22

addition of an opening chapter on revelation itself.

On October 10, 1962, the day before the Council opened, Ratzinger offered to the
23

German-speaking bishops a critical evaluation of the schema De fontibus revelationis.

Ratzinger was incisive on the schema’s poor conception of revelation as coming from
texts and traditions rather than from God speaking and acting. De fontibus intended to
close what Trent left open when it avoided the partim-partim concept of scripture and
Tradition

supplementing

each

other

in

content.

As

a

theologian

of

ressourcement,

Ratzinger proposed the patristic notion of tradition as the vital transmission of revelation in the believing Church, in the midst of which scripture gives the once-for-all witness of the prophets, Jesus, and the apostles. Tradition must not be depicted, as in De
fontibus, as an autonomous source offering a plus of revealed content beyond scripture.
On biblical inspiration, Ratzinger was critical of De fontibus for intending to raise to the
level of dogma the common notion of the textbooks, which isolates biblical authors
24

both from salvation-history and from the communities for which they redacted texts.

21

Ratzinger, Zur Lehre des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils, pp. 126–32. It appears in Wicks, “Six

Texts,” pp. 236–41 (introd.), 261–64 (English trans.), and 293–95 (Latin orig.).
22

Frings’s Latin letter, composed by Ratzinger, is in Acta Synodalia, appendix I (1983), 74–77.

This appears in Wicks, “Six Texts,” pp. 239–41 (introd.) and 264–68 (Engl. trans.). In volume 7/1
of the new edition, another text, in German, which Ratzinger sent to Frings on October 3, 1962,
appears after the Frings/Ratzinger letter. This previously unpublished text indicates modifications that would be needed in the four theological schemas, should they come onto the Council
agenda. See Ratzinger, Zur Lehre des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils, pp. 142–56.
23

Ratzinger, Zur Lehre des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils, pp. 157–74. This reviewer discovered

a copy of this long-lost text in the archive of Piet Smulders, S.J., in Nijmegen, The Netherlands.
Ratzinger had given it to Smulders to serve in the latter’s assistance of the bishops of Indonesia.
This appears in Wicks, “Six Texts,” pp. 214–43 (introd.), 269–85 (Engl. trans.), and 295–309
(German orig.).
24

Nearly two years later, on September 28, 1964, Ratzinger gave the German-speaking bish-

ops an evaluation, this time positive, of the textus emendatus of De divina rivelatione, as noted in
Döpfner’s diary (Treffler, ed., Döpfner. Konzilstagebücher, Briefe und Notizen, p. 36). One can hope
that further research will recover the manuscript of

this address. An effect of

it appears in

Döpfner’s aula intervention on September 30, in which he requested that the schema, in no. 5 on
faith, further accentuate the role of

grace by which God effectively completes in the faith of

believers his revelatory action: “ut fide ipsa essentia revelationis compleatur.” Acta Synodalia, III, pt.
3:146. This is a Bonaventurian notion highlighted by Ratzinger in his 1956 Habilitationsschrift.

735

BY JARED WICKS, S.J.

The offering of

Ratzinger’s collaborative works then gives two Latin texts, pre-

pared in October–November 1962 as alternatives to the prepared schemas on the
25

sources of revelation and the deposit of faith.
previously unpublished, of

The first is Ratzinger’s short account,

God’s saving revelation in Christ of

God and of

our

human reality, which then (in work with Karl Rahner, S.J.) became a longer text, De revelatione Dei et hominis in Jesu Christo facta, that circulated widely at the Council in mimeo26

graphed form.

Together, these alternative schemas show central motivations driving

the advance from De fontibus to Dei Verbum, especially to the Constitution’s chapter I
on God’s saving revelation centered in Jesus Christ.

For knowledge of Ratzinger’s collaborative contributions, the new volume has to
be

supplemented

by

two

texts

recently

brought

Mitteilungen of the Pope Benedict XVI Institute.

to

light

and

published

in

the

27

First, Ratzinger sent to Rahner on June 19, 1963, a series of comments on several
28

of the twelve revised schemas sent to the Council Fathers.

Ratzinger thought De rev-

elatione should tell why revelation “ends” with Christ’s Apostles—namely, because it
reaches in Christ such fullness that no more can be added. In the revised De ecclesia, he
found chapters I–II good, although the second chapter on the episcopate speaks
excessively about papal primacy. Similarly, in Ratzinger’s view, De ecclesiis orientalibus
needed serious revision to do justice to the patriarchs, which also would set limits on
the primacy. Ratzinger criticized sharply the schema De beata Maria virgine, because it
contradicted itself by stating that it would propose no new dogma, yet it raised to the
dogmatic level the view that Mary is co-redemptrix and mediatrix of all graces. In addition, he noted that the schema was ecumenically problematic in its nearly exclusive use
of

Western and Latin arguments, especially recent papal documents, which would

repel the Orthodox in spite of their deep Marian piety.

Second, the Textus emendatus of De ecclesia came to the Fathers in summer 1964 with
new chapters on the union of the earthly with the heavenly Church and on the Blessed
Virgin Mary in the mystery of

Christ and of

the Church. Ratzinger composed a

detailed evaluation of these, underscoring the good parts and offering corrections of
29

portions less satisfactory.

25

Ratzinger, Zur Lehre des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils, pp. 177–209.

26

Brendan Cahill gives the Rahner/Ratzinger text in Latin and English in The Renewal of

Revelation Theology, [Tesi Gregoriana, Serie Teologia, 51], (Rome, 1999), pp. 300–17.
27

“Texte im Umfeld des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils,” Mitteilungen Insitut Papst Benedikt

XVI., 5 (2012), 13–28.
28

Rahner was gathering observations on the new schemas that he would synthesize and offer

to the German bishops for their Fulda meeting on August 26–27, 1963, for possible adoption as
their observations to be proposed when the draft texts came up for conciliar discussion.
29

“Texte im Umfeld des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils,” pp. 17–28. Döpfner proposed

many of Ratzinger’s suggestions for improving the chapter on the Blessed Virgin in his October
16, 1964, intervention on behalf

of

ninety German-speaking and Scandinavian bishops (Acta

Synodalia, III, pt. 1:449–51). However, only one of these formulations entered the revised text

736

LIGHT FROM GERMANY ON VATICAN COUNCIL II

The new edition offers a previously unpublished Latin text on episcopal collegiality

composed

by

Gustave

Martelet,

Rahner,

and

Ratzinger

during
30

October 4–16, 1963, on the collegial structure of the episcopate.

the

debate

of

The text makes a

case for the Council to define collegiality, since it is based on Christ’s institution and
is the best way to treat the Church’s hierarchy. Five objections against collegiality are
then refuted by counterarguments.
The Commission on Missions called Ratzinger into its service late in the Council to
help draft a revised account of

the basis of

the Church’s missionary activity, which
31

brought him together with Yves Congar, O.P.

For an opening chapter, Ratzinger

sketched God’s saving economy to show how the Christian mission witnesses to God’s
32

love and gathers believers from the nations into common worship giving glory to God.

This part that began with Ratzinger’s work with Frings before the Council ends
33

with eleven Latin drafts by Ratzinger for addresses in St. Peter’s by Frings.

These are

not solely from Ratzinger, since the cardinal’s interventions were methodically prepared by a reading of the schema for the nearly blind Frings and a discussion of what
he would say. Once a draft was ready, further modifications occurred while the cardi34

nal memorized his address.

But comparison of the newly published drafts with the

cardinal’s addresses in the Acta Synodalia indicates that Frings often gave from memory
substantially what his theological peritus had prepared. This includes the famous declaration by Frings on November 8, 1963, that the methods of the Holy Office must
change, since in many cases its outmoded procedures do damage to the good name of
the Catholic Church.

35

This section of the new edition shows as well the second major

and became part of Lumen Gentium 58—namely, that during Jesus’s public life Mary advanced “on
her pilgrimage of faith” until she stood at her Son’s cross.
30

Ratzinger, Zur Lehre des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils, pp. 213–20. For the context, see History

of

Vatican II, Vol. 3: The Mature Council. Second Period and Intersession, gen. ed. Giuseppe Alberigo

and Joseph Komonchak (Maryknoll, NY, 2000), pp. 64–70.
31

Ratzinger, Zur Lehre des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils, pp. 223–36. Ratzinger’s contribution is

treated in Wicks, “Six Texts,” pp. 244–46 (introd.), 265–91 (Engl. trans., with notes indicating
passages in the Decree Ad gentes originating in Ratzinger’s draft).
32

This section omits Ratzinger’s contribution of October 17, 1965, to the late revision of the

schema on the Church and the modern world, by which the Christological credo of Gaudium et
spes, no. 10, began to take shape. Ratzinger’s text from the papers of Pierre Haubtmann at the
Institut catholique de Paris, appears in Wicks, “Six Texts,” pp. 309–10 (Latin orig.), pp. 292–93
(Engl. trans.), and pp. 246–49 (context in issues raised by the Fathers over lacunae in the draft of
mid-1965). On Ratzinger’s cooperation with Haubtmann, see Philippe Bordeyne, L’homme et son
angoisse. La théologie de «Gaudium et spes» (Paris, 2004), pp. 161–67.
33

Ratzinger, Zur Lehre des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils, pp. 239–89. The cardinal did not

depend on Ratzinger alone, since he made eight other Council interventions beyond the eleven
drafted by Ratzinger.
34

Ratzinger

described

this

in

“Buchstabe

und

Geist

des

Zweiten

Vatikanums

in

den

Konzilsreden von Kardinal Frings,” in Internationale Katholische Zeitschrift «Communio», 16 (1987),
251–65, translated in Communio (USA), 15 (1988), 131–47.
35

Acta Synodialia, III, pt. 4:616–71. Frings’s address was interrupted by the applause of the

Fathers. The new edition mistakenly connects Ratzinger’s draft with the schema De ecclesia (p.

737

BY JARED WICKS, S.J.

drama of the Council, when in 1964–65 clashes broke out within the majority over
how the Church should address itself to the modern world. In later drafts, Ratzinger
formulated for Frings sharp criticisms of drafts of Schema XIII on the Church and
36

the Modern World and of the mid-1965 draft decree on religious freedom.

Part

C

of

the

new

edition,

“Reporting,”

gives

Ratzinger’s

accounts

of

the

Council’s movement through its four periods, featuring the doctrinal debates and outcomes. He published one for each working period, which were gathered and translated as Theological Highlights of

Vatican II.

37

The new edition adds to these regular

reports seven other occasional writings on the Council’s main theological issues.
Among the highlights, this reviewer mentions Ratzinger’s appreciation of the Council
beginning with liturgical renewal, which focused it on the central actualization of the
Church when in union with Christ and his sacrifice it adores the Triune God. In midNovember 1962, the antimodernist positions and spirit of

De fontibus made many

appreciate Pope John’s opening address as a call to leave behind aspects of the preparation and to set out toward presenting the faith positively. Ratzinger speaks of Paul
VI’s opening address in 1963 as a profound confession of Christ over all things and
as moving in its words of repentance and forgiveness to the delegated non-Catholic
observers.

38

A short, inserted text from September 1964 is lucid on the development

of the draft De ecclesia regarding the different groups of the people of God and on
the episcopate.

39

Paul VI’s interventions late in Period III did upset many, but one

cause was a lack of provision for this in the Statutes, which seemed to see the pope
as outside the Council.

40

In an inserted essay Ratzinger shows how treating scripture

and Tradition was difficult because two historical problematics were intertwined—
namely, Trent’s bare-bones response to the Reformation sola Scriptura and the earlytwentieth-century clampdown on historical study of

41

scripture.

An inserted text,

“The Christian and the Modern World,” began as a lecture in 1964, was expanded for
a 1965 publication, and was further revised for Ratzinger’s collected essays in Dogma

262), whereas it was on the schema De episcopis ac de diocesium regimine, on which discussion began
November 4, 1963.
36

Ratzinger, Zur Lehre des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils, pp. 275–86.

37

Ratzinger, Zur Lehre des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils, pp. 296–322 (Period I), 359–410

(Period II), 417–78 (Period III), and 527–75 (Period IV). Paulist Press published the translation
in 1966 and reissued it in 2010 with an introduction by Thomas Rausch, S.J. The present edition
includes untranslated passages such as a concluding consideration on Period I (pp. 323–24) and
short prefaces to the sections on Periods I, II, and IV (pp. 296, 359–60, 527). It clarifies that the
account of Period III in two parts is composed of, first, a lecture of October 1, 1964 (Theological
Highlights, [2010], 127–51) during the period and another lecture of December 3, 1964 (151–95),
after the end of the period, treating especially the disturbing developments of the final week that
unfortunately

overshadowed

the

promulgation

of

Lumen

gentium,

Orientalium ecclesiarum.
38

Theological Highlights (2010), 31–32, 40–43, 66–70.

39

Ratzinger, Zur Lehre des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils, pp. 411–15.

40

Theological Highlights (2010), 158–61.

41

Ratzinger, Zur Lehre des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils, pp. 473–78.

Unitatis

redintegratio,

and

738

LIGHT FROM GERMANY ON VATICAN COUNCIL II

und Verkündigung (1973).

42

It shows why difficulties arose in drafting the Pastoral

Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, for example, because not all
sensed the different meanings of “world” that call for discipline in analysis. Second,
the debates of

1964–65 featured at times simplistic contrasts between catching up

with the spirit of the age and rigid scholastic oppositional views.

Part D of the Ratzinger Council texts moves beyond the Council to several writings that recall and interpret Frings’s contributions. A short piece of 1967 recalls the
silence falling over St. Peter’s during the cardinal’s addresses. In 1970 Ratzinger analyzed the virulent postconciliar crisis arising from doctrinal interpretations sundered
from Christian foundations, from a biblicism oblivious of the tradition, and from fascination with orthopraxis making superfluous the tenets of faith. The times called for
incisive discernment and the courage to be un-modern, for which Frings was a model.
An essay of

1976 refutes, from the cardinal’s interventions, the charge made by

Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre that Frings came to the Council as a leader of the “Rhine
43

A sub-

44

shows

Alliance” that intended to dismantle essential Catholic beliefs and structures.

stantial 1987 treatment of Frings’s main interventions, available in English,

how the cardinal’s “progressive” texts promoted catholicity, both in participation in
the Council (for example, the election of commission members) and in its sources (the
long tradition, not just the past ninety years). But he never espoused the “material sufficiency” of scripture, and his late interventions stressed that progress, although good
in itself, does not bring in God’s Kingdom.

Part E is the longest section of this edition, presenting Ratzinger’s commentaries
on

Council

documents.

Several

Commentary on the Documents of

of

these

are

well

known

from

the

five-volume

Vatican II, edited by Herbert Vorgrimler and published
45

by Herder and Herder in 1967–69.

Also, part E offers a short commentary by

42

Ratzinger, Zur Lehre des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils, pp. 479–526, giving the 1965 and 1973

texts in parallel columns. The later version has been translated by Michael J. Miller in Benedict
XVI/Joseph Ratzinger, Dogma and Preaching: Applying Christian Doctrine to Daily Life, unabr. ed. (San
Francisco, 2011), pp. 162–80.
43

The title, “Stimme des Vertrauens. Kardinal Josef Frings auf den Zweiten Vatikanum,” sug-

gests that Frings’s integrity exerted influence through a voice instilling trust in what he proposed.
This essay describes the several steps in the careful preparation of the interventions. Ratzinger,
Zur Lehre des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils, pp. 611–12.
44

“Cardinal Frings’s Speeches during the Second Vatican Council: Some Reflections Apropos

of Muggeridge’s The Desolate City,” in Communio, 15 (1988), 131–47. As in Lefebvre’s charge, Anne
Roche Muggeridge drew tendentiously on Ralph Wiltgen, The Rhine Flows into the Tiber (New York,
1967), for her characterization of Frings as a “liberal” whose Council aims would promote a rupture with the Catholic tradition.
45

On Lumen gentium Ratzinger explained the “Explanatory Note” on the episcopate and papal

primatial office (Commentary, 1:297–305). On Dei Verbum, he treated the origin and background,
chapters 1–2, and chapter 6 (Commentary, 3:155–98, 262–71). On Gaudium et spes, he commented
on part I, chapter 1, on the dignity of the human person (Commentary, 5:115–63). As commentator on Dei Verbum, Ratzinger singled out the point made on September 30, 1964, by Cardinal
Albert Gregory Meyer of Chicago that tradition not only progresses but also declines and so

739

BY JARED WICKS, S.J.

Ratzinger on Lumen gentium that served to introduce a Latin-German publication of
the Constitution in 1965, a longer study of 1966 on the Council’s doctrine of episcopal collegiality, and a brief explanation of no. 26 on the Church as local and univer46

On Gaudium et spes, the new collection gives the text of a lecture on the Pastoral

sal.

Constitution’s image of the human person and the consequences for education, as well
as the text of a radio talk based on Gaudium et spes, part I, chapter 3, on human hopes
47

for the future of the world.

The section closes with Ratzinger’s comments of 1995

on the Council’s Presbyterorum ordinis and his survey of 1967 on the missionary activity
of the Church as expressed in documents other than Ad gentes.

48

Beyond the Council
49

volume, his 2003 lecture on the Liturgy Constitution appears elsewhere.
Part F, on the “reception” of

the Council, gives sixteen texts, including essays,

homilies, and interviews from early 1966 to March 2005. Three pieces witness to
Ratzinger’s dismayed reading of

unwelcome ecclesial and theological developments

50

from 1966 into the early 1970s.

Especially interesting is a text from 1990, from a

needs ongoing correction from scripture (3:185). He also rated highly the Constitution’s no. 25:
“Bible reading is placed in the center of Christian life, which gives to Catholic piety a new orientation.” Personal and prayerful acquaintance with scripture becomes “a fundamental form of
the relation to God” (3:270).
46

The collegiality study appeared in several languages in the encyclopedic collection edited by

Guilherme Baraúna, O.F.M., such as La chiesa del Vaticano II (Florence, 3rd ed., 1967), pp. 733–60.
The account of the Church local and universal appeared first in English in Peter Foote et al., eds.,
Church. Vatican II’s Dogmatic Constitution on the Church. Text and Commentary (New York, 1969), p. 57.
Volume 8 of Ratzinger’s collected works, Kirche—Zeichen under den Völkern. Schriften zu Ekklesiologie
und

Ökumene

Ekklesiologie

(Freiburg,
des

2010),

Zweiten

contains

Vatikanischen

two

further

Konzils”

accounts

(pp.

of

258–82,

Lumen

from

gentium:

1985)

and

“Die
“Die

Ekklesiologie der Konstitution Lumen gentium” (pp. 573–96, from 2000, trans. in Stephan O. Horn
and Vinzenz Pfnür, eds., Pilgrim Fellowship of Faith. The Church as Communion [San Francisco, 2005],
pp. 123–52). The text from 2000/2005 includes Ratzinger’s affirmation of the priority of the universal Church over any local realization, in debate with W. Kasper, and Ratzinger’s interpretation
of subsistere in (LG 8) as a “special variant of esse. It is ‘being’ in the form of an independent
agent” (Pilgrim Fellowship, p. 147).
47

In English, the second text is in Faith and the Future (Chicago, 1971), pp. 77–88.

48

The first text is in English as “The Ministry and Life of Priests,” in Horn and Pfnür, eds.,

Pilgrim Fellowship of

Faith, pp. 153–75.

49

“40 Jahre Konstitution über die heilige Liturgie. Rückblich und Vorblick,” in Theologie der

Liturgie, Gesammelte Schriften, (2010), 11:695–711, also in Liturgisches Jahrbuch 53 (2003), 209–21,
and in 40 Jahre danach: Das Zweite Vatikansiche Konzil und seine Folgen, ed. Walter A. Euler (Trier,
2005), pp. 11–26.
50

These are translated into English: “Ten Years after the Beginning of the Council—Where

Do We Stand,” in Dogma and Preaching, pp. 377–84 (orig. 1972); “Church and World: An Inquiry
into the Reception of

Vatican Council II, in Principles of

Catholic Theology. Building Stones for a

Fundamental Theology (San Francisco, 1987), 378–83 (orig. 1975); and “A Review of the Postconciliar
Era—Failures, Tasks, and Hopes,” in Principles of

Catholic Theology, pp. 367–78 (orig. 1976). The

second text holds that Gaudium et spes, along with Dignitatis humanae and Nostra aetate, make up “a
kind of counter-syllabus”—that is, a turn away from the anti-liberal positions of Pope Pius IX’s
1864 “Syllabus of Errors” and the antimodernist program of Pope Pius X in 1907 and after.

740

LIGHT FROM GERMANY ON VATICAN COUNCIL II

51

television program, in which Ratzinger and Küng answer an interviewer’s questions.

Ratzinger’s proposal of a proper reception of the Council is many-sided, with appreciation for new ecclesial movements and insistence on following the Council’s paths
52

leading to the real center of Christianity.

The best article of this part alludes to ten

Council documents to analyze its often heralded “opening of

the Church to the

world.” For Ratzinger, this is primarily mission based on God’s “opening” in the
Incarnation and, consequently, respecting the world and living in poverty with the
53

Lord alone as our portion.

The Ratzinger Council collection closes in part G with six book reviews and two
prefaces to works appearing in Italy. A substantial piece is a 1968 review of

Franz

Michel Willam’s account of the deep seeds and development of the notion of ag gior54

namento in the spirituality of John XXIII.

In 1903, then-seminarian Angelo Roncalli

wrote that he had to take the vital sap of the saints’ ways of holiness and adapt this
to his personal character and life’s circumstances. Roncalli spoke of the ars of everfresh moving on in the Christian life. Ratzinger concluded that ag giornamento concerns
less doctrinal reconceptualization and new forms of ecclesial life, and much more that
Christians become artists of holy living in their own world and life’s setting.

A Mu ltiau thored Survey of Council Studies in Germany
Franz Xaver Bischof, the church historian of Munich’s Catholic Faculty, convened
a February 2010 symposium on German Council research that has resulted in the third
volume of this report. After two introductory papers, the volume has six studies of
Council participants and five reports on the reception of the Council.

Bischof begins with an overview of published work to date, in which the Frings
55

biography of Norbert Trippen stands out.

Among many other works, Bischof refer-

51

Zur Lehre des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils, pp. 1091–1105. Although Küng would delight in

a new council for advancing his causes, Ratzinger said “not yet,” because no sound crop of biblical, liturgical, and theological studies existed for a council to harvest, similar to what the period
1920–60 provided for the Second Vatican Council.
52

See, for example, “Review of

the Postconciliar Era,” Principles of

Catholic Theology, pp.

374–78, and the 1992 essay on the program of the journal Communio, published in the U.S. edition, 19 (1992), 436–49, especially 442–49.
53

“Weltoffene Kirche? Überlegungen zur Struktur des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils,” Zur

Lehre des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils, pp. 980–1002 (orig. a lecture of June 23, 1966).
54

Franz Michel Willam, Vom jungen Angelo Roncalli (1903–1907) zum Papst Johannes XXIII

(1958–1963) (Innsbruck, 1967). Michael Bredeck amplifies Willam’s discovery, adding, for example, the impact in 1901 of Bishop John Lancaster Spalding’s forward-looking optimism and applying

this

to

the

Council

in

his

Paderborn

dissertation,

Das

Zweite

Vatikanum

als

Konzil

des

Aggiornamento. Zur hermeneutischen Grundlegung einer theologischen Konzilsinter pretation (Paderborn, 2007).
55

Franz

Xaver

Bischof,

“Konzilsforschung

im

deutschsprachigen

Raum.

Ein

Literaturbericht,” in Das Zweite Vatikanische Konzil (1962–1965). Stand und Perspektiven der kirchenhistorischen Forschung im deutschsprachigen Raum, ed. F. X. Bischof (Stuttgart, 2012), pp. 13–25, noting
on p. 22 Trippin’s Josef Kardinal Frings (1887–1978), II, Sein Wirken für die Weltkirche und seine letzten

741

BY JARED WICKS, S.J.

56

ences studies on the reception and impact of the Council in three German dioceses.

He offers a good opening survey, but the church-historical focus leads to omitting men57

tion of four works of German scholarship on particular Council documents.
Wassilowsky treats global interpretations of

Günther

the Council with an opening joust with

Archbishop Agostino Marchetto, who attacked as tendentious the Alberigo school of
58

Bologna and the five-volume History of Vatican II.

Wassilowsky claims that historically
59

Marchetto has disproven “nothing whatsoever” (überhaubt nichts).

Wassilowsky favors

taking the Council as an event, a “rupture of routine,” rich in symbolic impact beyond
its production of sixteen texts. The author recalls his own earlier work on the devel60

opment of one Council text,
61

history.

Wassilowsky

hermeneutic of

but calls for adopting the broader framework of cultural

questions

the

adequacy

of

Benedict

XVI’s

proposal

of

a

reform in continuity, which is akin to nineteenth-century gradualist
62

reform-concepts offered as alternatives to the French Revolution.

Bischofsjahre (as in n. 19, above), which treats Frings at the Council on pp. 210–490. Bischof
coedited with Stephan Leimgruber a student-friendly survey of the Council documents: Vierzig
Jahre II. Vatikanum. Zur Wirkungsgeschichte der Konzilstexte (Würzburg, 2004).
56

Katrin

Gallegos

Sánchez

et

al.,

eds.,

Ag giornamento

im

Erzbistum

Freiburg.

Das

Zweite

Vatikanische Konzil in Erinnerung und Dialog (Freiburg, 2011); Hans-Joachim Maurer et al., eds.,
Angekommen oder unterwegs? 40 Jahre Konzil im Bistum Trier. Forschungen—Erlebnisberichte—Zeitzeugen
(Trier, 2006); and Verena Schmidt, Das Bistum Essen und das Zweite Vatikanische Konzil. Eine
Untersuchung zum Rezeptionsprozess in den Pfarreien (Münster, 2011).
57

Thomas Gertler, Jesus Christus—Die Antwort der Kirche auf

die Frage nach dem Menschen. Eine

Untersuchung zu Funktion und Inhalt der Christologie im ersten Teil der Pastoralkonstitution “Gaudium et
spes” des Zweiten Vatikansichen Konzils, [Erfurter theologische Studien, 52], (Leipzig, 1986). Joachim
Schmiedl, Das Konzil und die Orden. Krise und Erneurung des gottgeweihten Lebens (Vallendar-Schönstatt,
1999). Alois Greiler, Das Konzil und die Seminare. Die Ausbilduing der Priester in der Dynamik des
Zweiten Vatikanums, [Annua Nuntia Lovaniensia, 48], (Leuven, 2003), which is reviewed by Jared
Wicks in Theological Studies, 67 (2006), 205–06. Hans Vöcking, ed., Nostra Aetate und die Muslime.
Eine Dokumentation, [Schriftenreihe der Georges-Anawati-Stiftung, 8], (Freiburg, 2010).
58

Il Concilio Ecumenico Vatcano II. Contrappunto per la sua storia (Vatican City, 2005), trans.

Kenneth D. Whitehead, The Second Vatican Ecumenical Council: A Counter point for the History of

the

Council (Scranton, 2010).
59

Günther

Wassilowsky,

“Kontinuum—Reform—(Symbol-)

Ereignis.

Konzilsgeschichts-

schreibung nach Alberigo,” in Bischof, ed., Das Zweite Vatikanische Konzil, pp. 27–44, here p. 33.
60

Günther Wassilowsky, Universales Heilssakrament Kirche. Karl Rahners Beitrag zur Ekklesiologie

des II. Vatikanums, [Innsbrucker theologische Studien, 59], (Innsbruck, 2001).
61

Theological journals, however, are publishing in Council commemorations some remark-

able re-visitations of the Council texts such as (on Dei Verbum) Thomas Söding, “Die Zeit für
Gottes Wort. Die Offenbarungskonstitution des Konzils und die Hermeneutik der Reform,”
Theologische Revue, 108 (2012), 443–58; and, on Ad gentes, Stephen B. Bevans, S.V.D., “Revisiting
Mission at Vatican II: Theology and Practice for Today’s Missionary Church,” Theological Studies,
74 (2013), 261–83.
62

For Wassilowsky, one argument concerns Dignitatis humanae as a sharp reversal of Pius IX’s

Syllabus. But he takes no account of Ratzinger’s statement about Gaudium et spes, “that (in conjunction with the texts on religious liberty and world religions) it is a revision of the Syllabus of
Pius IX, a kind of

countersyllabus.” Principles of

Epilog of Theologische Principienlehre (1982).

Catholic Theology, 381; orig. 1975, repr. in the

742

LIGHT FROM GERMANY ON VATICAN COUNCIL II

The

symposium

volume

then

treats

Cardinals

Bea

(contrasted

with

Cardinal

Ottaviani), Döpfner, Frings, and Franz König. On the first, Dominik Burkard hypothesizes that Bea’s service as consultor of the Holy Office beginning in 1949 was specif63

ically on ecumenical issues coming before the dicastery.

Two contributions study

Döpfner: first, an accurate and enlightening account of the Munich cardinal’s Council
contacts,

interventions,

and

German

version

earlier

of

an

influence
study

as
of

Council

64

Moderator;

Döpfner’s

and,

collaboration

second,

with

his

the

fellow
65

Moderator Suenens, which made the two into a major influence at the Council.
66

Frings receives a brief but informative treatment by Trippen,

who tells of Ratzinger’s

assistance to Frings, but also notes important suggestions made by Hubert Jedin—for
example, that Frings intervene on the Council’s first working day to demand postponement

of

elections

to

the

conciliar
68

Fribourg dissertation treated König,

67

commissions.

David

Neuhold,

whose

concentrates on König’s October 24, 1963,

address to the Council, on behalf of a majority of Doctrinal Commission members,
in favor of treating the Blessed Virgin Mary within the schema De ecclesia.

69

63

Dominik Burkard, “Augustin Bea und Alfredo Ottaviani. Thesen zu einter entscheidenden

personellen Konstellation im Vorfeld des Zweiten Vatikanischen Konzils,” in Bischof, ed., Das
Zweite Vatikanische Konzil, pp. 45–66. This essay needs correction on Bea holding in the new Unity
Secretariat “only the rank of a secretary” (63) and on him being director (Leiter) of the Pontifical
Biblical Commission (64), in which he was neither president nor secretary, but only a consultor
(so, in Annuario Pontificio). Also, Bea learned of Catholic ecumenical thinking through Monsignor
Johannes Willebrands’s regular visits from 1952 onward, when Willebrands was reporting in
Rome after the annual meetings of the Conférence catholique pour les questions œcuméniques.
Bea’s cardinalate in December 1959 led shortly after to his first audience with John XXIII, at
which Bea expressed the desire to use his new influence and authority precisely in the ecumenical field.
64

Stephan Mokry, “Kardinal Julius Döpfner (1913–1976) und das II. Vatikanische Konzil,

Forschungsthemen und vorläufige Bilanz,” in Bischof, ed., Das Zweite Vatikanische Konzil, pp.
67–79.
65

Guido Treffler, “Kardinal Léon-Joseph Suenens und Kardinal Julius Döpfner,” in Bischof,

ed., Das Zweite Vatikanische Konzil, pp. 81–91, originally in English in D. Donnelly et al., eds., The
Belgian Contribution to the Second Vatican Council, pp. 219–31.
66

N. Trippen, “Kardinal Josef Frings auf dem II. Vatikanische Konzil,” in Bischof, ed., Das

Zweite Vatikanische Konzil, pp. 93–103.
67

On the elections, two recent studies not mentioned by Trippen are Mathijs Lamberigts and

Alois Greiler, “‘Concilium episcoporum est.’ The Interventions of Liénart and Frings Revisited,
October

13th

1962,”

Ephemerides

Theologicarum

Lovanienses,

73

(1997),

54–71,

and

Mathijs

Lamberigts and Leo Declercq, “Le rôle de l’épiscopat belge dans l’élection des commissions conciliaires en octobre 1962,” in La raison par quatre chemins: en homage à Claude Troisfontaines, ed. Jean
Leclercq (Louvain-la-Neuve and Leuven, 2007), pp. 279–305.
68

The cardinal’s Council interventions are treated in David Neuhold, Franz Kardinal König—

Versuch eines theologischen und politischen Profils (Fribourg, 2008), pp. 79–139.
69

David Neuhold provides information on König’s gentlemanly relations with Carlo Balić,

O.F.M. (the redactor and proponent of a distinct Marian schema) and König’s non-use of the
demolition of the Balić schema by König’s peritus, Rahner; see Neuhold, “Kardinal Franz König
und das II. Vatikansiche Konzil. Die Frage nach der Gottesmutter—einige Amerkungen,” in
Bischof, ed., Das Zweite Vatikanische Konzil, pp. 105–29.

743

BY JARED WICKS, S.J.

The longest text in the Munich symposium volume is singular as a survey, based on
broad research by a German scholar, of the presence and contributions of French the70

ologians at the Council.

The French Council periti numbered thirty-three, but the

diarists Congar and Henri de Lubac, S.J., lamented that the French bishops did not draw
on their nation’s theological capital during the Council. But Michael Quisinsky notes
the publication of regular commentaries on schemas by experts in the series Etudes et
Documents—these were organized by Roger Etchegaray in the French bishops’ secretariat and represent a unique occurrence during the Council. The French theological
emphases were Christological concentration, the dynamic of tradition, the eschatological horizon of faith, and the normative role of human dignity in shaping the future.

The studies on receiving the Council begin with a report on Switzerland covering
liturgical renewal, ecumenical relations, new organs of consultation, the Swiss Synod
of

1972,

and

the

entry

into

pastoral

work

of

full-time

lay

71

ministers.

Joachim

Schmiedl presents findings on the pastoral letters of the German bishops, continuing
72

education of the clergy, and new consultative structures in the dioceses.

He notes

how the episcopal conference gained the upper hand in Council reception over the
individual bishops. A wider focus comes in a report on the Council taking hold in
communist East Germany, featuring tension between a grassroots group in Halle calling for more inner-church democracy and the reserve of bishops who had to deal con73

stantly with government agencies of control.

From 1972 to 1975 the West German

dioceses held a joint synod in Würzburg that aimed at a unified Council reception
across the span of church life. On the Synod, the present volume treats the provision
in its statutes for non-Catholic delegated observers to follow, but not go beyond, the
74

example of the Council.

The final reception study rests on a comparative investiga-

tion of how the Archdioceses of Cologne and Munich developed structurally after the
Council, with the creation at multiple levels of

collegial bodies of

75

consultation.

70

Michael Quisinsky, “‘L’Eglise tout entire est en état de Concile’ (Paul VI.). Französische

Konzilstheologen auf

dem II. Vatikanischen Konzil,” in Bischof, ed., Das Zweite Vatikanische

Konzil, pp. 131–57. The author’s dissertation at Freiburg im Breisgau treated the Salchoir periti in
Geschichtlicher Glaube in einer geschichtlichen Welt: Der Beitrag von M.-D. Chenu, Y. Congar und H.-M. Féret
zum II. Vatikanum (Berlin, 2007).
71

Rolf Weibel, “Konzilsforschung und Konzilsrezeption in der Schweiz,” in Bischof, ed., Das

Zweite Vatikanische Konzil, pp. 159–77.
72

Joachim

Schmiedl,

“Die

Rezeption

des

Konzils

im

Spiegel

der

Amtsblätter

deutscher

Diözesen,” in Bischof, ed., Das Zweite Vatikanische Konzil, pp. 179–90.
73

Sebastian

Holzbrecher,

“Basisgemeindliche

Rezeption

des

Konzils

in

der

DDR,”

in

Bischof, ed., Das Zweite Vatikanische Konzil, pp. 191–99.
74

Stefan Voges, “Testfall Ökumene. Die Rezeption des II. Vatikanischen Konzils in der

Vorbereitung der Gemeinsamen Synode der Bistümer in der Bundesrepublik Deutschland,” in
Bischof, ed., Das Zweite Vatikanische Konzil, pp. 201–21. Against calls for a wider role for other
Christians, the concern prevailed that the Synod should aim at promoting reconciliation in the
face of growing inner-Catholic fragmentation.
75

Rosel

Oehmen-Vieregge,

“Strukturentwicklungen

in

der

Erzdiözese

Köln

und

der

Erzdiözese München und Freising nach dem II. Vatikanischen Konzil,” in Bischof, ed., Das Zweite
Vatikanische Konzil, pp. 223–42.

744

LIGHT FROM GERMANY ON VATICAN COUNCIL II

Notable complexity resulted. The density of old and new bodies impeded cooperation
with the archbishops, and the groups and councils spent more energy on clarifying
their own roles and competencies than on plotting up-to-date responses to pastoral
76

needs at a time of decreasing Catholic practice.

A Catalog, with Studies, of an Archival Exhibition in Munich
on the Second Vatican Council
To celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the Council’s opening, the archives of the
Munich archdiocese, of the German Jesuit Province, and the Karl Rahner Archive col77

laborated on an exhibition of selected Council documents and photos.

The exhibi-

tion catalog of 318 pages features leading individuals such as Popes John XXIII and
Paul VI, Cardinals Döpfner and Bea, and theologians Ratzinger and Rahner. The
described items tell of the Council preparation, various participants, and procedures,
before concentrating on the genesis of
(Lumen

and

gentium)

the

Declaration

the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church

on

the

Church’s

Relation

to

Non-Christian

Religions (Nostra aetate). Final sections illustrate the communication of Council news
and documents to the world, as well as the conclusion of the Council with events both
in Rome and Munich followed by the initial implementation of liturgical renewal. To
explain more fully the exhibits and their connection to the unfolding of the Council,
twelve essays of varying depth open the volume.
Erneuerung in Christus brings the Council to life, furnishes a solid narrative, and
brings to light several aspects not treated in Council historiography to date. It makes
the point that the relative inaccessibility of

many German sources—despite some

increased availability—has led to gaps in the historical recovery of the Council.
The essay portion of the volume opens with a survey of the Council by Bischof,
who, for example, describes the official preparation of 1959–62 as moving along currents

flowing

from

Pope

Pius

XII’s

admonitory

Humani

generis

(1950)

and

from

advancing Mariology, rather than currents of biblical theology, ecumenical pioneering,
and

Rahner’s

early

Catholicism of

probing

work.

But

John

XXIII

challenged

the

closed-ranks

the preparation and in effect allowed the Council to draw on the

renewal currents. The change was abrupt and far from total; consequently, the longterm significance of

the Council is still working itself

out in our new millennium.

Stephan Mokry treats Döpfner informatively, to which the exhibition catalog adds sig78

nificant illustrations.

Nikolas Klein, S.J., gives a dense account of

76

Bea before the

By the mid-1970s, the archdiocesan administration in Cologne had a staff

of

forty-nine

priests, two religious sisters, 294 full-time laypersons, and seventy part-time laypersons.
77

All three archives are presently in Munich, with the transfer of

the Rahner papers from

Innsbruck in 2008.
78

Erneuerung in Christus, pp. 424–44, depicts Döpfner’s notes of the criticisms on May 8–9,

1962, in the Central Preparatory Commission of

the Theological Preparatory Commission’s

schema De ecclesia by Cardinals Paul-Émile Léger, Franz König, and Bea. It adds critical observations of November on the schema produced by Rahner, Otto Semmelroth, and Paul Pfister, and
gives Döpfner’s request of the Council’s general secretary to put him on the list of speakers on

745

BY JARED WICKS, S.J.

79

Council and during it, as he became an emblematic figure of the Coucnil.

Rudolf

Vorderholzer sets forth Ratzinger’s work as Council peritus on the basis of volume 7
of the Ratzinger collected works previously discussed. On the hermeneutics of the
Council, the author makes the point that, for Ratzinger, the Council’s “continuity” is
not with what immediately preceded it, but instead with what is original to the Church
that needs ever-fresh articulation.

Andreas R. Batlogg, S.J., director of

the Karl Rahner Archive, contributes an

informative essay on Rahner at the Council, to which the exhibition catalog adds texts
and photos, including a snapshot of Rahner’s portable typewriter. In fact, the catalog
ends strikingly with Rahner’s lecture notes and a photo of him speaking at a Festakt
for the just-completed Council in Munich on December 12, 1965, on “The Council—
80

a New Beginning.”

Clemens Brotkorb, director of the archive of the German Jesuit

Province, presents the theological service at the Council of

the Jesuit periti Otto

Semmelroth (especially for ecclesiology), Johannes Baptist Hirschmann (on the lay
apostolate and Gaudium et spes), Alois Grillmeier (for De revelatione, chapter III, and
advice to the bishops of East Africa), and Friedrich Wulf (for renewal of religious
81

life).

Stephan Haering, O.S.B., treats the Munich professor of

Mörsdorf, who regularly delivered competent evaluations of

canon law, Klaus

Council schemas to

82

Döpfner, especially on the office of bishop.

De ecclesia. His December 3 intervention judged text as valde insufficiens because of reasons such as
a failure to consult the Unity Secretariat during its preparation (Acta Synodialia, I, pt. 4:183–89).
79

The exhibition catalog adds, on Bea, pp. 393–99 (Bea with the non-Catholic observers and

guests) and pp. 464f. (text from which Bea spoke, influentially, on September 16, 1964, for moderating expectations about the Council’s teaching on the Blessed Virgin Mary). See also below on
the iter to Nostra aetate and Bea’s advocacy of that text. Accounts of Bea’s background can now
treat his twenty years as rector of the Biblical Institute in Rome by drawing on Maurice Gilbert,
S.J., The Pontifical Biblical Institute. A Century of

History (1909–2009) (Rome, 2009).

80

On the Rahner materials shown in the exhibition: Erneuerung in Christus, pp. 364–67, 400,

406–09, 430–40, 575–81. The Munich lecture of December 12, 1965, “Das Konzil—ein neuer
Beginn,” was issued by Herder in German, Italian, and Spanish, with the original German republished in 2012 by A. R. Batlogg. The English version is in Rahner, The Church after the Council (New
York, 1966), pp. 9–33.
81

When this reviewer visited Semmelroth in Frankfurt in early 1967, he said he had proposed

inserting into the schema De revelatione, no. 5 (textus emendatus, mid-1964), the wording “mentis
oculos aperiat” to designate a work of the Holy Spirit in bringing about faith. The phrase is now in
Dei Verbum, which Semmelroth intended as acknowledging the contribution of Pierre Rousselot,
S.J., in The Eyes of

Faith (orig. 1910; New York, 1990). On Hirschmann, it should be noted that

he worked with Bishop Franz Hengsbach in drawing up, in December 1962, the initial sketch of
a schema De praesentia efficaci ecclesiae in societate humana et in communitate gentium , which led to the
eventual schema XVII/XIII. See Giovanni Turbanti, Un concilio per il mondo moderno. La redazione
della costituzione pastorale “Gaudium et spes” del Vaticano II (Bologna, 2000), pp. 172–79.
82

Mörsdorf had a role, needing further clarification, in relation to Bea’s public statements in

1961 about baptized non-Catholics belonging—in some way, not fully—to the Church of Christ.
Tromp noted Bea’s claims as departures from Pius XII’s Mystici Cor poris Christi (1943) and composed a memorandum for commission president Ottaviani, documenting Bea’s views and prepar-

746

LIGHT FROM GERMANY ON VATICAN COUNCIL II

Moving beyond persons at the Council, Hans Hermann Henrix offers a short
account of the genesis and continuing impact of Nostra aetate, to which the postconciliar popes gave major impulses, whereas the foundations of a Christian theology of
83

religions remains “work in progress.”

Two essays by Winfried Haunerland and

Wolfgang Steck treat the background and first steps of

liturgical renewal in the

Munich Archdiocese, with Döpfner giving theological and spiritual depth to the
process via eleven day-long meetings in 1965 with priests and a model Mass incorpo84

rating the coming changes that he celebrated for them.

An engrossing account of the

Council reception is Klaus Schatz’s chapter on the waves of
85

rolling through the German Jesuit provinces after the Council.

change and turmoil
In sessions of 1965

and 1966, the 31st General Congregation elected as Superior General the man of
vision, Pedro Arrupe, and then issued more than forty decrees of

transformative

impact. But in 1965–70 change had its own dynamic from the wider Church and society, and many traditional norms and forms of Jesuit life both ad intra and ad extra lost
their plausibility. Spiritual life became individualized, but community life became more
truly fraternal. Formation programs searched for valid new ways amid many uncertainties, but stabilized around 1980. The Society lost members at alarming rates, and
the institutions of secondary education were pressured to show their legitimacy, but
they made it through the testing.

The concluding essay of Erneuerung in Christus is Peter Pfister’s report on German
sources relevant for Council research, based on his canvass in 2011 of
archives of

thirty-two

dioceses, religious orders, and other centers. Pfister registers a notable

improvement since 2001, with new inventories and open access for scholars, but some
collections are still not ready to serve the ongoing advance in understanding the
Council that the works reviewed here are supporting.

ing a rebuttal. See Konzilstagebuch Sebastian Tromp SJ, ed. Alexandra von Teuffenbach, I/1–2
(1960–62) (Rome, 2006), pp. 85, 159, 161, 163, 175–77, 177, 858–62 (Tromp’s memo of February
2, 1961). See Mörsdorf, “Der Codex Iuris Canonici und die nicht-katholischen Christen,” in
Archiv für katholischen Kirchenrecht, 130 (1961), 31–58; and “Persona in Ecclesia Christi,” Archiv für
katholischen Kirchenrecht, 131 (1962), 345–93. The two articles also came out in Mörsdorf, Schriften
zum Kanonischen Recht, ed. W. Aymans et al. (Paderborn, 1989), pp. 77–147.
83

The relevant exhibition materials extend from Bea’s 1920 Stimmen der Zeit article on anti-

semitism, through a 1962 draft of a schema De Judaeis and the texts from which Bea spoke in presenting drafts in the aula, to the reproduction of a telegram of November 21, 1964, with congratulations to Bea from Nahum Goldmann, president of the Jewish World Congress, over the
positive vote accepting the draft schema as a basis of further Council work. The section ends
with Karl Barth’s critical questions of September 1966. See Erneuerung in Christus, pp. 472–505.
84

The exhibition showed drafts of the cardinal’s homilies and photos of him celebrating versus

populum. Erneuerung in Christus, pp. 539–46.
85

Schatz’s essay in Erneuerung in Christus, pp. 233–46, draws on volume 4 of his Geschichte der

deutschen Jesuiten (1810–1983) (Münster, forthcoming).

747

BY JARED WICKS, S.J.

A

Who’s Who of the Second Vatican Council
Peter Walter, of the Freiburg Catholic Theology Faculty, and Michael Quisinsky,

teaching in Geneva, present a work that intends to make the Council more easily teachable at the university level. They have assembled a gallery of dense biographical and
bibliographical entries on nearly 400 participants in the Council. The need for such
86

information has been felt before, but not realized at the level of this Personenlexikon.

The format is that of Lexikon für Theologie und Kirche, with some entries coming from
the Lexikon’s third edition (1990–2001), albeit with updating to take into account current Council research. Many entries are contributions of an international band of willing collaborators experienced in researching the Council. The aim is to provide easily
accessible and accurate information for readers about the persons they likely will
encounter in Council literature, such as in the five-volume History by Alberigo and
Komonchak or in works on the genesis of particular Council documents. An added
dimension is that of photo-portraits, many from the time of the Council, of nearly
seventy of the persons treated.
The Personenlexikon starts by reprinting the twelve-column entry on the Council by
Alberigo

and

Walter

from

the

third

edition

of

Lexikon

für

Theologie

und

Kirche.

Regarding the persons, the work aims at complete coverage in one part only—namely,
in entries for all the German bishops of the Council. Some of these provided little to
report about activities during the Council, but left more to relate concerning their
efforts to have the Council received and implemented in their dioceses. Naturally the
popes of

the Council years and beyond have informative entries, along with the

Council presidents and Moderators, as well as the presidents and secretaries of the
preparatory and conciliar commissions.
Developments of

some importance come up in the entries, for example, on

Bishop Pericle Felici, the Council’s general secretary. Massimo Faggioli notes how
Felici succeeded in gaining for his Secretariat a political role within the constellation
of the pope, the Moderators, the Curia, and the Council minority. Some entries note
in their bibliographies recent studies of Council Fathers and periti, whereas others give
notice of future publications of interest such as the forthcoming Council diary of the
ecumenically and theologically influential Bishop Hermann Volk of Mainz. The entry
on Rahner relates that volume 23 of Rahner’s Sämtliche Werke, expected to be published in 2013, will bring together all of

his writings on the Council, much as the

second work of this article has done for Ratzinger.
Regarding persons from the United States, twenty-six entries include seventeen
Council Fathers (alphabetically from Richard J. Cushing to John H. Wright), three periti
(Joseph C. Fenton, John Courtney Murray, and Johannes Oesterreicher, shared with

86

Jan Grootaers’s Actes et acteures à Vatican II (Leuven, 1998) devotes chapters to fourteen

Council figures. John O’Malley’s What Happened at Vatican II (Cambridge, MA, 2008) briefly introduces sixty-one individuals as “Council Members Frequently Mentioned” (pp. 321–28). Roberto
de Mattei’s The Second Vatican Council: An Unwritten Story gives concise information at the first
mention of the main participants in the Council.

748

LIGHT FROM GERMANY ON VATICAN COUNCIL II

Austria), two non-Catholic observers (Douglas Horton and George Lindbeck), a colthe Unity Secretariat (Thomas Stransky, C.S.P.), an auditor

laborator from day 1 of

(James J. Norris) and an auditrice (Mary Luke Tobin), and one widely read reporter and
87

influential interpreter (Francis X. Murphy, aka Xavier Rynne).

Sadly, this informative work lacks an index of the formal and informal groups that
counted

as

members

many

of

the

persons

presented.

These

would

include

the

preparatory and conciliar commissions, and could helpfully extend to “the church of
88

the poor” interest group,

the Coetus Internationalis Patrum; the religious superiors

general; perhaps la squadra belga; and surely the “Domus Mariae” group that effectively
circulated among the episcopal conferences information about developing currents of
thought and action. A further recurring phenomenon, which this Personenlexikon regularly documents, is that of Council members of the majority who, in the wake of the
Council, became critical skeptics about postconciliar ecclesial developments. This is
not for indexing, but remains a topic for further investigation and analysis.

A Concluding Thought
The five works presented here make it clear that relating the history of the Second
Vatican Council is not yet finished. The Döpfner papers show that records of

the

Council’s Secretariat for Extraordinary Affairs (Period I) remain to be published and
used. During the first intersession, when Paul VI began his pontificate, the Munich
cardinal gave the pope far-seeing recommendations in a text that has become available
only recently. The Ratzinger Council writings document the several roles and the
impact of a Council peritus. The later opening of the German diocesan and episcopal
archives is a promising development and a challenge as well. One can only hope that
the example of these works, fusing with the fiftieth anniversary of the Council, will
bestir archivists and scholars around the world to an emulation fruitful for further
Council historiography.

87

Unfortunately, Sister Mary Luke is not well served by one of the few mistakes noted, as she

was wrongly placed in the “L” section, as if “Luke Tobin” were her surname. On F. X. Murphy,
Wassilowsky writes warmly of his “brilliant” articles and books that constituted an “on target
media-event” and influenced widely not only perceptions of the Council but also the event itself;
see Quisinski and Walter, eds., Personenlexikon, p. 196.
88

Nine leading members are listed in the entry for Paul Gauthier (p. 115).

FORUM ESSAY
BY

NELSON H. MINNICH; FRANCESCO CESAREO; FRANCO BUZZI; WIM FRANÇOIS AND
VIOLET SOEN; KENNETH G. APPOLD; AND JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J.
Trent: What Happened at the Council. By John W. O’Malley (Cambridge, MA: Belknap
Press of

Harvard University Press, 2013. Pp. xii, 335. $27.95. ISBN 978-0-674-

06697-7.)

Introduction by Nelson H. Minnich
(The Catholic University of America)

John W. O’Malley, who has distinguished himself as the preeminent historian of
Catholicism in the early-modern period, has turned his attention to the most important event of that period, the Council of Trent (1545–63). Far from being a boring
assembly of like-minded prelates and theologians who confidently reaffirmed traditional teachings and put order into a Church shaken by the challenge of Protestantism,

The council, extraordinarily difficult to convoke, was even more difficult to hold on
course. During it, animosities and substantive differences surfaced that brought the
council again and again to the brink of disaster. At the end the council was able to arrive
at a considerable measure of resolution, but only after navigating hazardous waters and
surviving hurricane-strength storms. (p. 22)

O’Malley has striven to produce an accessible introduction to the council for the general reader, making “no big claims” (p. 11); to dispel the myths surrounding it; and to
distinguish the Council of

Trent from postconciliar phenomena that were closely

related to it but not grounded in the council itself

and tagged as components of

“Tridentinism” (pp. 11, 275). His account is a delight to read—full of drama, analyses
of the hopes and fears of leading protagonists and of the limiting political context in
which they moved, insightful character sketches, pithy quotes from participants, balanced but sympathetic presentations of Protestant positions, contemporary Catholic
teachings and practice and their antecedents, identification of the key issues at stake,
the use of silence as a typical method of compromise, the content of the decrees and
the material not included, the decrees’ claims to apostolic origins, the interpretation of
the council’s chapters and canons, and the implementation of Trent. His study is based
primarily on the documents of the council with reference to relevant secondary literature. It is a remarkable synthesis of the best of previous historians of the council:
the drama and wit of Paolo Sarpi’s Istoria del Concilio Tridentino (1619), the meticulous
documentation of Pietro Sforza Pallavicino’s three-volume Istoria del Concilio di Trento
(1656–64), and the prodigious scholarship of Hubert Jedin’s four-volume Geschichte des

749

750

FORUM ESSAY

Konzil von Trient (1949–75)—and all this in less than 300 very readable pages, enriched
by appendices that provide a chronology of the council’s twenty-five sessions and a
translation of

the Tridentine Profession of

Faith, plus thirty-four pages of

notes.

O’Malley is the masterful storyteller. What follows is a summary of his historical narrative and of the major themes of each chapter.
He begins his account with a description of the city of Trent (technically located
in the German Nation, but on the Italian side of the Alps, under the jurisdiction of a
prince-bishop and with a majority Italian-speaking population) and the three periods
of the council in Trent (1545–47, 1551–52, 1562–63—it relocated to Bologna during
1547–49). He provides an overview of those who came to the council such as their
numbers (varying from fifteen to 280 prelates per session) and their nationalities
(mostly Italian, but with a sizable Spanish contingent, a small but significant German
presence during the second period, a notable French presence during the third period,
and a few representatives from other nations who were living in exile). He describes
how the council was financed (at times claiming 18 percent of the papal budget) and
how it was meant to address problems (clarifying Catholic doctrine and practice, and
eliminating abuses). Its doctrinal decrees were often divided into chapters that provided a positive statement of church teachings and into canons (concise statements
ending with an anathema) that condemned the saying and doing of things considered
inconsistent with the Church’s beliefs and practice, not the thinking about them. The
council did not condemn anyone by name. It sought to strengthen episcopal authority and was Eurocentric in its focus, ignoring the missionary Church. The councils of
the previous century often dealt with the contentious question of

the relationship

between pope and council in the Church and failed to produce needed reform in the
areas of pastoral care and religious practice. But elements of reform could be found
in the Spain of Isabella I Trastamara (1451–1504, queen of Castile 1474–1504) and of
Francisco

Jiménez

de

Cisneros,

O.F.M.

(1436–1517,

archbishop

of

Toledo

1495–1517), in humanism with figures such as Desiderius Erasmus of Rotterdam (c.
1467–1536), in the Observantist movement among religious orders, in lay confraternities, and in the school of spirituality of the Devotio moderna. The call for reform by
Martin Luther (1483–1546) was centered on a more personal relationship with God
based on the Bible that led to a rejection of the papacy and of five of the seven sacraments. Political leaders used Lutheranism to reduce papal and imperial power. A “free,
general, Christian council on German lands”—called for by Luther to resolve the conflicts—was resisted by popes who feared it would reduce papal power and by Francis
I Valois (1494–1547, king of

France 1515–47) and by members of

the Protestant

Schmalkaldic League who dreaded its success lest it enhance imperial power and curtail their own reforms. Pressure from Emperor Charles V Habsburg (1500–56, king of
Spain

and

Naples

1516–56,

emperor

1519–56)

eventually

led

Paul

III

Farnese

(1468–1549, pope 1534–49) to convoke a council to meet in Mantua (1537), Vicenza
(1538), and Trent (1542), once peace had been secured between the Valois and
Habsburg rulers. But renewed warfare prevented the council from meeting until
December 1545. Within the Empire Charles hoped to defeat the Schmalkaldic League
with money and troops supplied by the pope and then force Lutheran leaders to
attend the council and accept its decisions—his “grand plan.”

751

BY NELSON H. MINNICH ET AL.

The first period of the council began with only thirty-five prelates present under the
guidance of three cardinal legates: Giovanni Maria del Monte (1487–1555), Marcello
Cervini (1501–55), and Reginald Pole (1500–58). The prelates decided procedural questions and tried to control the agenda, but they could not prevent troublesome questions
from arising. Who should have deliberative and consultative voice? Should the council
claim to represent the universal Church and to enjoy supreme authority as asserted by
conciliarists, or was it subject to the papal legates and required papal approval of its
decrees? The issue of freedom dogged the council throughout, as well as whether doctrine (as favored by the pope) or reform (pushed by the emperor) should take precedence. The prelates recognized that they were closely related and should be given parallel treatment, something the pope reluctantly accepted. The council eventually adopted
an organizational procedure involving congregations of theologians and canonists, special deputations, general congregations of prelates, and formal sessions. The formulation of doctrinal decrees began with the collection of suspect statements from the writings

of

both

Protestants

and

Catholics,

pulled

out

of

context

and

thus

distorted—Luther’s tendency to express “himself in terms so hyperbolic and unqualified” easily led to misunderstandings (p. 249). In the form of articles they were discussed
in

open

congregations

by

theologians,

who

were

mostly

mendicants

trained

in

Scholasticism and unsympathetic to Protestant theology. The theologians were sent to
the council by popes, rulers, and the religious orders. After listening in silence to the theologians, the prelates debated the articles in their own general congregations. A deputation drew up a draft decree that was then debated, revised, and approved by the prelates
in a general congregation before it was solemnly approved in a formal session. Reform
decrees were often drafted by the legates or a congregation of canonists before being
debated by the prelates. The legates were competent churchmen who managed affairs
and reported to the pope and his commission of cardinals who had to approve all major
decisions beforehand. It thus seemed that there were two councils: one in Trent, the
other in Rome, and at times they were at serious odds. Having affirmed its orthodoxy
by reissuing the Nicene Creed at its second session, the council went on to identify the
sources of faith. Although not intending to resolve controversies among church Fathers,
the council did repeat the list of the canonical books of the Bible issued earlier by the
Council of

Florence (decree for the Copts, 1442) that included the Apocrypha. It

affirmed the Vulgate version of the Bible that needed emendations as “authentic” (i.e.,
a basically reliable text to be cited in sermons and debates), allowed for other versions,
and did not forbid vernacular translations. It described salvific revelation as coming from
God under the guidance of the Holy Spirit and transmitted in both written (Old and
New Testaments) and unwritten (apostolic traditions originating in Christ or the apostles) forms that were to be received with an equal level of piety and reverence. It left
unresolved the question of whether apostolic traditions maintained with unbroken continuity in the Church were interpretations of the biblical texts or had contents independent of them. In related reform decrees the council required the establishment of
lectureships in scripture in cathedrals, monasteries, and mendicant houses of study and
the preaching of sermons by bishops and pastors based on the Bible.
Having established the bases for determining church teachings, the council took up
the crucial issues of original sin and justification. Its decree on original sin repeated

752

FORUM ESSAY

the anti-Pelagian teachings of the ancient councils of Milevum (417), Carthage (418),
and Orange (529) and added that guilt does not remain in the justified person, but
concupiscence (the inclination to sin) does. The decree on justification took seven
months to formulate. It went through multiple drafts, introduced the division into
chapters and canons, and stated that although justification is the work of God, the
adult human agent under the influence of grace must freely consent to its movements
that effect an inner transformation so that the believer becomes a true child of God.
Justification is not merely imputed. United with Christ, the justified person can now
merit salvation and further sanctification. The council complemented this major doctrinal decree of the sixth session with a reform decree in the seventh on episcopal residence that ducked the basis of this obligation, a question that would return in the
final period and almost sabotage the council. The latter session took up the doctrinal
question of the sacraments in general and of baptism, confirmation, and the indelible
mark made by some. It reaffirmed the sacramental teachings of

the Council of

Florence (decree for the Armenians, 1439).

Since summer 1546, the legates had looked for an opportunity to transfer the
council from Trent, which they considered cramped, too close to the imperial residence in Innsbruck, and vulnerable to attacks from the Protestants. An outbreak of
typhus, later proven to be limited in scope, provided del Monte with the justification
for proposing a transfer to Bologna in the Papal States, which was approved by twothirds of the prelates, but resisted by the imperial faction of fourteen bishops who
refused to leave Trent. The resulting “Council of Bologna” could not propagate any
decrees despite protracted debates and drafts; frustrated Charles V’s plan to force the
German

Lutherans

to

come

to

the

council

after

their

defeat

at

the

battle

of

Muehlberg; and, most important, resulted in the prolongation of the council for sixteen additional years just when it was on verge of concluding in Trent. The assassination of Pier Luigi Farnese (1503–47)—son of Paul III, duke of Parma, and an ally of
Henry II of France—was blamed on agents of the emperor. It deepened the animosity between the pope and emperor, and almost led to a schism within the remnant of
Catholicism. Paul III was finally forced in September 1549 to allow the bishops in
Bologna to return home, an inglorious conclusion to the first period of the council.
The pope planned to hold a meeting in Rome in January 1550 to reform the Church,
but he died before his plan could proceed.
The new pope, Julius III (1550–55), who as Cardinal Giovanni Maria del Monte
was president of the council, reconvened the council with reluctance and with opposition from France. The council opened with the attendance of only fifteen prelates
who were members of the imperial party and were mostly Spanish; its president was
Cardinal Marcello Crescenzio (1500–52), a conservative curialist. Through the influence of Charles, prominent German prelates (e.g., the three elector-archbishops) as
well as representatives of the Protestant rulers of Brandenburg, Wurtemberg, Saxony,
and some imperial cities eventually attended. Julius III insisted that the Protestant delegations first submit to the council if they wished to be incorporated into it. Only
Brandenburg agreed. The others placed such impossible conditions on their participation that they were granted only the possibility of

reading aloud their Protestant

753

BY NELSON H. MINNICH ET AL.

confessions

of

faith

in

a

secret

general

congregation.

The

pope

reprimanded

Crescenzio for granting even this measure. This second period then sputtered to a
conclusion

necessitated

by

the

war

waged

against

Charles

V

by

France

and

the

Schmalkaldic League. The council was then suspended “for two years.”

During this period, however, the council had passed decrees on the Eucharist and
on penance, both employing Scholastic terminology. The one on penance incorrectly
claimed that the Church from its beginning has always observed the practice of private confession. It also emphasized the juridical aspects with the priest acting as judge
and the penitents as the prosecuting attorney against themselves. This period was
marked by severe tensions between the bishops and the papal legate because of the
latter’s autocratic procedures that seemed designed to prevent real reform.

Once again, a pope attempted to reform the Church on his own without conciliar
input. Julius III drew up the reform bull Varietas temporum, but never promulgated it.
Following

the

brief

pontificate

of

Marcellus

II

Cervini

(1555),

Paul

IV

Carafa

(1555–59) again took the task in hand. He condemned simony; instituted a papal index
of prohibited books;, and modified the procedures of the Curia’s Datary, Penitentiary,
and Signatures, but failed to produce a comprehensive reform partly because of his
disastrous war with Philip II Habsburg (1527–98, king of Naples and Spain 1556–98).

To fulfill his election capitulary and prevent France from going its own way with a
national council, Pius IV de’ Medici (1499–1565, pope 1559–65) convoked a general
council to meet again in Trent. Whether it was a new council or a continuation of the
old was left ambiguous until the end so that the support of Ferdinand I Habsburg
(1503–64, emperor 1558–64) and of Catherine de’ Medici (1519–89, regent of France
1560–63) could be secured; both rulers wanted a fresh start in the hope of reconciliation with the Protestants. Efforts to have Orthodox representatives and German
bishops, individuals from universities, and Lutherans come to the council failed. But
this third period was notable for the presence of a significant delegation of French
bishops and theologians under the leadership of Charles de Guise (1524–74), cardinal
of Lorraine. In addition, significantly more prelates were in attendance; at one point,
their

numbers

reached

280

and

included

representatives

from

Portugal,

Spain,

Switzerland, Poland, and Hungary. Nonetheless, the Italians, who composed more
than two-thirds of

the total membership of

the council, dominated this period.

Discord reigned among the papal legates. Ercole Gonzaga (1505–63), the president,
and Girolamo Seripando (1493–1563) tried to accommodate the wishes of the bishops, whereas Ludovico Simonetta (d. 1568) did everything to defend papal prerogative
and sent secret reports to Rome critical of his colleagues. The failure of the earlier
decree to require bishops to reside in their dioceses led to renewed debate over the
basis of this obligation. Was it merely an ecclesiastical regulation or rather a divine law
(jus divinum) from which neither the pope nor canon law could dispense? Does a
bishop’s power come directly from God by consecration or from the pope by delegation? The legates allowed a straw vote on the jus divinum basis of episcopal residence
with sixty-eight favoring, thirty-five opposed, and thirty-five letting the pope decide
the issue. Simonetta secretly denounced his fellow legates to the pope for allowing

754

FORUM ESSAY

such a vote. Pius IV rebuked them and threatened to send new legates. The pope eventually was forced to allow the issue to be treated. At the urging of the emperor, the
council took up the question of granting the chalice to the laity and, failing to come
to a consensus, referred the issue to the pope to decide. The council affirmed that the
Mass is an expiatory sacrifice, but failed to explain how the Last Supper, the sacrifice
of Calvary, and the Mass are related. Regarding the liturgy, the council ruled that Latin
is allowed, but the vernacular is not condemned; polyphony is permitted, but lascivious music was prohibited. Reform decrees increased the control of bishops as delegates of the Holy See over exempt pious institutions in their dioceses. When the conciliar fathers took up the topic of holy orders, the question of the basis of episcopal
power returned to center stage. Rome tried to control every word of the decree, but
the emperor intervened to demand freedom for the bishops.
At this time of crisis in March 1563, both Gonzaga and Seripando suddenly died.
Pius IV immediately appointed Giovanni Morone (1509–80) as president. The new
legate went to Innsbruck where, with promises of reform, he was able to mollify the
emperor. Pius IV and Morone sought to diminish the influence of de Guise, a leader
of the reform party. As they showed outward signs of deference, they instructed their
agents to embarrass him and cut him down to size. They later realized that in many
ways he had become their ally. Morone was able to expedite debate by creating committees of prominent prelates who met in private to draft the wording of decrees, a
procedure resented by many bishops. Despite de Guise’s urgings that bishops be
elected by the clergy and the people, the decree on bishops ignored this issue to concentrate on their qualifications. After much haggling, the council adopted the essentially
cosmetic phrase “divine precept” (praeceptum) in place of “divine law” (jus) to describe
the obligation to reside personally in one’s church so that proper pastoral care could be
provided. Meanwhile, in one of its most important decisions, the council mandated the
establishment of “seminaries” in every diocese for the training of priests.

The pope urged Morone to end the council, but first the legate had to deal with
the sacrament of

matrimony and the reform proposals submitted by the Spanish,

French,

and

German,

Italian

representatives

who

were

prelates

and

envoys

of

Christian rulers. To eliminate the abuses coming from clandestine marriages, the council for the first time required the presence of a priest to contract a valid marriage. The
decree on the matter, Tametsi, aimed to ensure the public presence of witnesses to the
marriage and the free consent of

the spouses. It denied that parental consent was

required for minors. Despite pleas from Emperor Ferdinand and the duke of Bavaria,
the council failed to take up the question of

priestly celibacy. From the various

national reform proposals, Morone selected a series of

measures dealing with the

duties of bishops and pastors and had a committee full of Italian backers of the curia
draft the final decree, which was then approved by a committee of notables and by the
prelates in a general congregation. An attempt to reform Christian princes met much
opposition from the envoys and their supporters and so was much diluted. The draft
decree on the reform of religious orders granted bishops supervisory authority over
their public ministries and assured that women who took solemn profession and lived
in community freely took their vows and lived under strict enclosure.

755

BY NELSON H. MINNICH ET AL.

When word came that Pius IV was seriously ill and the council needed to be concluded immediately, Morone rushed to finish it, but had to address some issues
demanded by the French and Germans. Under the guidance of de Guise and under
the heading of reform (not doctrine), a committee quickly prepared a decree affirming church teachings on purgatory, indulgences, fasting, and the veneration of saints
and sacred images. In a marathon session that lasted for two days (December 3–4,
1563), the conciliar fathers approved these and other decrees. It also entrusted to the
pope the unfinished tasks of writing a catechism and revising the index of prohibited
books, missal, and breviary. It also reaffirmed all the decrees of

the previous ses-

sions—thus resolving the question of whether the council was a continuation of the
earlier meetings at Trent—and requested that the pope also approve the decrees. With
much jubilation, the council ended.

In an epilogue, O’Malley assesses the achievements of

the council. Although it

failed to reconcile Protestants, it did bring consensus among Catholics on the crucial
doctrinal issues of

justification and the sacraments, and it provided serious reform

measures regarding the residence of pastors, the obligations to preach and supervise
the local church, and the training of

candidates for the priesthood in seminaries.

Orthodoxy was assured by the requirement that clergy and teachers take an oath that
came to be known as the “Tridentine Profession of Faith” that condensed the council’s teachings, giving undue prominence to some (such as purgatory and indulgences)
and remaining vague on others (such as tradition and justification). The tasks given to
the papacy to complete were carried out, at times in a surprising way. The Catechism
aimed at pastors was very positive in tone, reiterated pre-Tridentine teachings, and
ignored such issues as the canon and translations of

the Bible and the distinction

between laity and clergy. The revised Index put restrictions on reading vernacular
Bibles. The revised missal and breviary gave the impression that a rigid uniformity was
being imposed. The reform of the Roman Curia promised by the popes was slow in
coming and left much unchanged. The Congregation of the Council set up by Pius IV
to interpret and implement the decrees of the council took control of the decrees out
of the hands of canonists, theologians, bishops, and rulers and inhibited local adaptations or further developments. St. Carlo Borromeo (1538–84), then archbishop of
Milan, published the Acta of his many diocesan synods and provincial councils. Those
documents in some ways became more important than the decrees of

the council

itself in telling reform-minded prelates how they were to perform their duties. The
Tridentine Catholicism that emerged after Trent was often more the creation of other
factors than of the council itself.

Comments of Francesco C. Cesareo (Assumption College)
On December 13, 1545, the “long-awaited” (p. 23) council that Luther and reformminded members within the Church desired finally opened at Trent. The historical
importance of the Council of Trent for the Church and Western civilization cannot
be underestimated. Given its significance over the subsequent four centuries, forces
within the Church have appealed to it for different purposes. This phenomenon has
resulted in an image of the council that betrays its historical reality. Over time, the idea

756

of

FORUM ESSAY

Trent that emerged did not always reflect the life of

dichotomy, partly the result of

the council itself. This

historiography, is the focus of

O’Malley’s insightful

analysis.

One might wonder why a study of the Council of Trent is needed, given the monumental work of Jedin. As O’Malley points out, few have read the entirety of Jedin’s
study, particularly in the English-speaking world. Subsequent scholarship, mostly by
Italian scholars, has focused more on the implementation of the council. Through this
concise overview of the council, O’Malley presents an accessible introduction to Trent
in the hopes of

dispelling the myths and misunderstandings that have developed,

while “[a]ttaining a measure of precision” (p. 275) about the Council of Trent. In so
doing, O’Malley allows the reader to grasp the critical distinction between the idea of
Trent and the actual council.

O’Malley accomplishes this goal through six chapters focusing on the preconciliar
period, the three periods of the council, and the aftermath of the council. Through
this framework, O’Malley describes the complex factors at play from the papal fears
of conciliarism and the complexity of the religious situation to the political context
that affected the council, both prior to and after its convocation. O’Malley demonstrates how key personalities and the political issues that intertwined the rulers of
Europe and the bishops, along with the often tense relationship between the emperor
and the pope, affected the council’s deliberations and decisions. Similarly, O’Malley
makes clear the significant role of the papal legates and their relationship with one
another and with the pope in affecting the progress of the council. O’Malley demonstrates how even one individual (such as Morone) or a group (such as the French delegation) could significantly affect the council.

By recounting the complicated issues underlying the council, certain important
themes emerge that allow for a more authentic portrayal of

the council. One such

theme is that the Council of Trent is a story that is political, theological, and ecclesiastical. This is reflected in the political allegiances of the bishops, as well as by the different goals for the council advanced by the pope and the emperor, which became
operational by the early decision to treat issues of doctrine and reform together. A
second theme is the recognition that reconciliation with the Lutherans, a primary goal
for the emperor, was not possible by 1545. O’Malley argues that the Protestant paradigm of church polity had crystallized to the point that it was no longer compatible
with the Catholic paradigm. Consequently, the Council of Trent was for the benefit of
Catholics and a “proud symbol of Catholic identity” (p. 251). The often strained relationship between the pope and the council is another theme. O’Malley contends that
despite never attending the council itself, the popes in all three periods controlled the
council through the legates, who received “frequent and firm” directives (p. 9) from
him. The insistence of unbroken continuity with the apostles, which became the standard for the council’s response to the issues raised by the Protestant reformers, is
another theme that is highlighted, with implications beyond the council itself. Finally,
the priorities brought to the council by the Mediterranean and Northern European
bishops differed, since the latter were directly affected by Protestantism.

757

BY NELSON H. MINNICH ET AL.

The most compelling aspect of this book is found in the epilogue, where O’Malley
not only addresses the outcomes of the Council that became defining characteristics
of Catholic identity but also the difference between Tridentinismo and the council itself.
Through a discussion of Carlo Borromeo’s efforts in Milan, the publication of the
Acta and Instructiones, Pius IV’s Profession of Faith, the Roman Catechism, and the
Index of Forbidden Books, O’Malley contends that much of what has been characterized as “Tridentine” was not the work of the council, but rather were interpretations that went beyond the council. Similarly, the establishment of the Congregation
of

the Council, the bull promulgating the Roman missal, and the Congregation of

Rites gave, argues O’Malley, the impression that the Council of

Trent answered all

questions and legislated on all aspects of Catholic life, when in reality the council had
not done so. Therefore, O’Malley contends that the line between what the council legislated and what occurred in the years that followed became blurred, resulting in the
myths and misunderstandings that emerged.
This study of the Council of Trent dispels the common perception of the council as monolithic in nature. O’Malley convincingly demonstrates that this perception
was partly the result of the way in which its implementation colored the understanding of the council for the subsequent four centuries. This valuable analysis offers an
interpretation that questions the common understanding of the council by highlighting the concern for reform of the episcopacy, the clergy, and the faithful through an
emphasis on pastoral care, discipline, and preaching that reflected the experiences of
the bishops and secular rulers in the sixteenth century.

Comments of Franco Buzzi (Veneranda Biblioteca Ambrosiana, Milan)
O’Malley describes with great care the difficulties encountered by theologians and
the fathers of the Council of Trent when they discussed Luther’s writings.
On the one hand, it was Luther himself that set the agenda to be examined by the
council (p. 12); on the other, the approach of

the council toward Luther’s thought

originated from a completely different culture from that of

the Reformer. Luther’s

thought was alive, existential, and expressed the emotional discomfort of man incapable of ridding himself of the torment of sin; instead, the methods of the Trent theologians were academic, analytical, intellectual, systematic, scholastic, metaphysical,
and emotionally cold (pp. 51, 116, 152, 249).
The justification of

man as a sinner is presented by Luther as a move from an

oppressed and desperate conscience to the liberation that results from the proclamation of the Gospel. It is a transition from existential sadness to the joyful experience
in the faith and an expression of the word of absolution that coincides with the surprising, unexpected, and gratuitous proclamation of the incarnate and crucified Word
of God.
The supremacy of grace, recognized by all theological scholars, is expressed in the
council’s thought, which criticizes the presumed condition of complete slavery of the
sinner man, and then sets up a process in which human freedom has a space reserved

758

FORUM ESSAY

for constant collaboration with the grace of God that anticipates, accompanies, and
carries out the actions of man. Furthermore, Trent affirms that justified man is made
effectively righteous and is actually transformed by the grace of justification, because
sin is actually and completely removed. Thus the Council of Trent intends to oppose
the realism of justification to the concept that justification is to be understood forensically, as a simple declaration of righteousness. In other words, Trent decides that the
sinner is not righteous simply because the sin is “not imputed” to him, but that he is
made in effect righteous through grace.
But here we must ask ourselves if this understanding of the process of justification in merely “forensic” terms—that is, of “non-imputability” attributed to Luther
for centuries by controversial theological thought—really excludes Luther from a realistic understanding of effectively justified man. In the actual case posed by this question, in fact, the divergence of cultural horizons that O’Malley emphasizes in his book
becomes evident.
Now, it is undoubtedly true that Luther continues to affirm that sin remains within
the justified sinner, so that there is then a peccatum haerens/inhaerens—“a sin that is
1

inherent” to man.

In contrast with this statement, the Tridentine decree De iustifica-

tione (quoting Rm 5.5) affirms that “the love of God is spread in the hearts of those
that are justified” and adds atque ipsis inhaeret, “it is inherent to them” (Concilium
Tridentinum, 5:793, lines 42–43). It thus leaves it to be easily understood, as we may
express in Scholastic terms, that the grace of

God is inherent, by way of

qualitas

(“quality”), in those that are justified.
Of

course, Luther is against the concept of

mean that he excludes the realistic efficacy of

grace as qualitas, but this does not

justification. In fact, although in his

opinion sin remains in justified man, the peccatum manens (“the sin that remains”) is no
2

longer regnans (“dominating”), but instead regnatum (“dominated”).
transformation

in

the

condition

of

justified

man.

This implies a real

Furthermore,

the

same

verb

(inhaerere) used by Luther to express the actual entrenchment of sin in justified man is
used by him to express the intimate communion that is achieved between Christ and
justified man: Christus [est] inhaerens et conglutinatus mihi et manens in me; “Christ adheres
to me, he is closely joined to me and remains within me” (WA 40, ser. I, p. 283, line
30). And again: Sic Christus in me manens et vivens tollit et absorbet omnia mala quae me cruciant et affligunt; “thus Christ, remaining in me and living in me, takes away and absorbs
all the evils that torment and afflict me” (WA 40, ser. I, p. 284, lines 14–16). Here
indeed, the union of Christ with justified man incorporates the features of the mystery relating to the conjugal union in a marriage (cf. WA 40, ser. I, p. 285, lines 24–27;

1

Cf., for example, Luthers Werke, Weimarer Ausgabe [hereafter referred to as WA], 31, ser. I,

p. 572, line 12: “doctrina de peccato haerente in humana natura”; WA 31, ser. I, p. 573, line 30:
“Scit propheta haerere peccatum in natura sua”; WA 39, ser. I, p. 96, lines 29–31: “Quia, etsi credimus in Christum, tamen haeret adhuc peccatum in carne.”
2

Cf. Wilfried Joest, “Paulus und das Luthersche Simul iustus et peccator,” Kerygma und Dogma,

1 (1955), 269–320; Rudolf Hermann, Luthers These «Gerecht und Sünder zugleich»
repr. Darmstadt, 1960), pp. 67–68.

(Gütersloh, 1930;

759

BY NELSON H. MINNICH ET AL.

WA 40, ser. I, p. 286, lines 15–17), a hermeneutic view of the entire theology of faith
3

only recently rediscovered and valued by Lutheran historians.

It was therefore more than desirable that, after four and a half centuries of controversy, the long-awaited agreement on the subject of “justification of faith” should
be sought and established between the Roman Catholic Church and the Lutheran
World Federation, in spite of all the theological differences (O’Malley, Trent, p. 115).
O’Malley clearly affirms in his book that theological horizons and their emotional contexts were so completely different that often the very same word was enough to create
several misunderstandings between the parties (p. 116).

Comments of Wim François and Violet Soen
(Catholic University of Leuven)
More than a decade ago, O’Malley published the challenging yet well-received Trent
and All That: Renaming Catholicism in the Early Modern Era (Cambridge, MA, 2000).
Rather than providing a study about the Council of Trent itself, O’Malley elucidated
the twentieth-century historiography regarding the council and the “Tridentine Age,”
which since the distinction made by the eminent Jedin had never seemed to recover
from

the

dichotomy

between

Catholic

Reform

and

Counter-Reformation.

In

a

thoughtful attempt to bypass this never-ending debate, O’Malley argued it could be
more fruitful to describe Catholicism in that period just as it developed, on its own
terms and conditions. Historians, he contended, would gain more in revealing earlymodern Catholicism as such, rather than searching for a qualitative epitheton ornans, as
had

happened

until

then

with

the

characterizations

of

a

Confessional

Age,

a

Tridentine epoch, and a baroque Catholicism. Now, O’Malley practices these premises
in his succinct yet stunning description of
trying to pin down elements of

the Council of

Trent itself. Instead of

Reform or Counter-Reformation, he describes the

convocation, development, and results in their historical context, giving as much
weight to the political factors as the theological ideas and pastoral endeavors.

Although indebted to the work of Jedin—as any author writing on the council in
the wake of “the most distinguished Catholic church historian of the twentieth century” (p. 10)—O’Malley is able to include the findings of more recent research, including the work of Alain Tallon, Simon Ditchfield, Paolo Prodi, and Wolfgang Reinhard.
As a result, his description of what happened at the council pays large attention to the
different and often diverging levels of allegiance (regional, theological, church-political) amongst the council Fathers and the inevitable power struggles outside and inside
the council, including that of

the Protestant world. O’Malley also shows a better

3

See, for example, Karl-Heinz zur Mühlen, “Mystik des Wortes. Über die Bedeutung mysti-

schen Denkens für Luthers Lehre von der Rechtfertigung des Sünders,” in Reformatorisches Profil.
Studien zum Weg Martin Luthers und der Reformation (Göttingen, 1995), pp. 66–85; but, above all,
Berndt Hamm, “Wie mystisch war der Glaube Luthers?,” in

Der frühe Luther (Tübingen, 2010),

pp. 200–50; Volker Leppin, “Mystik,” in Luther Handbuch, ed. Albrecht Beutel (Tübingen, 2010),
pp. 57–61.

760

FORUM ESSAY

understanding of

the difficulties regarding the logistics and communication of

an

early-modern council and takes a special effort to link the Tridentine decrees with
long-debated theological stances as well as with highly contingent factors. Even if he
insists that he makes “no big claims” (p. 11), he still does so by circumventing all apology and by highlighting both the successes and failures of the council. This primarily
historical appreciation of

the Council as “an event” might be the most important

methodological breakthrough of

the book. As such, O’Malley’s book will certainly

give a long-needed impetus to further debate among scholars and create the longneeded reactivation of research on the council.

One of

O’Malley’s most triggering positions in this respect might concern his

appreciation of Trent’s decree on justification as one of the most valuable doctrinal
outcomes of

the Council (p. 115 and especially pp. 253–55). This evaluation is not

shaken by the recognition that the decree was not able to bring forth the striven-for reconciliation with the Protestants—not a single decree was able to do that—but not even
by the fact, fully acknowledged by the author, that it was not able to calm down the
thorough divides among the Catholic schools. The topics of grace, free will, and predestination continued to be the most important bone of

contention between the

diverse theological currents in post-Tridentine Europe—opposing, for example, Jesuits
and Augustinian-minded theologians in Louvain and Douai and basing their positions
on

the

ideas

of

Michael

Baius

and

Leonard

Lessius

respectively—and

eventually

erupted into the ill-famed Jansenist controversy. In this regard, the question should be
asked whether the decree on justification—despite its tendency today to appear balanced and versed in the Bible and its potential for serving as a source for contemporary ecumenical conversation—should be evaluated as a too vague and ambiguous outcome

of

a much complicated

debate.

Although the

council

spent

seven months

discussing the matter, the question should be asked if unrest about the Schmalkaldic
War and the subsequent likely transfer of the council outside Trent may have played a
role in issuing a decree that, in retrospect, was not carried to term. Or was the decree
indeed “the best that could be done on this extremely difficult issue”? (p. 253). Would
this conviction be the reason that Baius did not receive permission to discuss his theological stance in public at the council? And in hindsight, could the attendees have
already recognized that by the end of the council, the decrees issued first came under
heavy pressure?

We can only look forward to the prospect of O’Malley’s exciting account fostering
scholarly debate on the Council of

Trent’s convocation, development, and results.

Equally important—because of its synthetic, narrative, and didactic qualities and its
ability to consider political currents within the Church as well as theological and historical factors that may have influenced what happened at the Council—O’Malley’s
book should be considered as the handbook par excellence for years to come. It will
prove to be the guiding text in classes and seminars everywhere in the English-speaking academic world. Hence, O’Malley should rightly be congratulated with what is,
again, a major instrument for both scholarly debate and classroom use.

761

BY NELSON H. MINNICH ET AL.

Comments of Kenneth G. Appold (Princeton Theological Seminary)

Lutheran interest in the Council of Trent has, over the centuries, remained sparse.
Apart from initial reactions by contemporaries of the council and by some of their
early-modern successors, there is little literature on Trent’s history and theology writ4

ten by Lutherans.

A small, though noteworthy, exception to this desolate landscape

comes with the modern ecumenical movement, particularly in connection with discussions surrounding the doctrine of justification. Few of these accounts, whether of
the sixteenth or twentieth centuries, could be described as “dispassionate.” That, in
light of the seemingly low level of interest attached to the Council at other times, is
ironic and suggests the need for deeper Lutheran reflection on this pivotal point in
Western Christian history.

Lutheran reception of Trent has largely followed patterns established by the firstgeneration Reformers. Luther himself died before the council took up his teachings,
but his skepticism toward the council, especially insofar as it was to be held under
5

papal auspices, is well documented.

Philipp Melanchthon had similar reservations and

articulated them throughout the council’s first two phases (he died in 1560). Although
his specific criticisms targeted the proceedings and decrees as they emerged, his general hopes for the council and for its willingness (and ability) to take seriously Lutheran
theological

teachings

remained

consistently

minimal.

Other

Reformers,

including
6

Johannes Brenz, Martin Bucer, and John Calvin, joined in criticizing the council.

Their critiques fell into two categories: formal concerns about the council’s authority
and

representation,

and

material

complaints

about

its

theological

positions.

The

former category included objections to the use of nonbiblical norms and to the lack
of Protestant voices; the latter, although varied, focused heavily on session 6 and the
doctrine of

justification. Shortly after the council’s final adjournment, a far more

extensive study of

its theology appeared; it remains perhaps the most significant

Lutheran publication on Trent to the present: Martin Chemnitz’s Examen Concilii
7

Tridentini (1565–73).

All of

these publications share grave reservations about the

council’s legitimacy, based both on what Lutherans viewed as its flawed conception of
theological authority and on disagreements with the theological canons it produced.
Interestingly, virtually no early Lutheran commentator took an interest in the practical
reforms decreed by Trent; this trend continues to the present day.

What does O’Malley’s magnificent new book, Trent: What Happened at the Council?,
have to say to contemporary Lutheran readers? At the most superficial level, it simply

4

For a partial but useful overview, see Gottfried Maron, “Das Konzil von Trient in evangeli-

scher Sicht. Ein Überblick,” in Materialdienst des Konfessionskundlichen Instituts, 46 (1995), 107–14.
5

Robert Stupperich, “Die Reformatoren und das Tridentinum,” Archiv f
ür Ref
ormationsgeschichte,

47 (1956), 20–63.
6

See Stupperich, “Die Reformatoren,” for a summary.

7

Chemnitz’s work has seen numerous editions and translations through the centuries. The

most recent English translation can be found in Martin Chemnitz, Examination of the Council of
Trent, 4 vols., trans. Fred Kramer (St. Louis, 1971–86).

762

FORUM ESSAY

offers a very good read. Rarely has an account of administrative proceedings been so
engaging, lively, and stimulating. Even someone with no prior interest in the council
(which, judging from the publication history, seems to include most Lutherans), will
find the work fascinating. More substantively, it is an excellent one-volume introduction to the council’s history. Jedin’s classic four-volume work may remain more comprehensive, but as O’Malley observes in his introduction, few nonspecialists would
embark on reading it. They would, however, be well advised to read O’Malley. In addition to brevity’s inherent virtues, its demands also create different foci and a clearer
narrative.

In

O’Malley’s

case,

this

brings

to

the

fore

two

features

that

Lutheran

accounts typically lack: an insight into the complicated and thoroughly divergent political and church-political agendas that swirled around the council, and attention to the
nontheological reforms it introduced.

Both of these features contain important lessons to Lutherans. By highlighting the
variety

of

interests

and

commitments

that

converged

on

the

council,

O’Malley

reminds the reader of how seemingly contingent some of its outcomes were. One frequently finds oneself wondering, “what would have happened if…?”, and it is easy to
imagine results more amenable to reconciliation with Lutherans if only x had prevailed
over y on a given day. Such speculation is ultimately less fruitful, however, than the
hermeneutical benefit that this knowledge of

complexity bestows. In several cases,

O’Malley uses his account of historical circumstances to correct some of the more
common misreadings of Trent within the Roman Catholic tradition. Particularly helpful is his account of the council’s views on scripture and Tradition (pp. 97–98). At
other points, his attention to background and nuance yields readings of the council’s
theological decrees (such as those on original sin, justification, and the Eucharist) that
are very helpful to ecumenical dialogue. Indeed, some of

these observations have

already played a role in ecumenism, as O’Malley observes with reference to the “Joint
Declaration on the Doctrine of

Justification” (pp. 115–16). That ecumenical spirit

extends to O’Malley’s treatment of Luther as well. On balance, this emerges as sensitive and charitable. Luther is credited with forcing many of the issues that occupied
the council, and his views are generally presented fairly.

Even in an ecumenical age, we tend to view our partners’ histories mainly when
they intersect with our own, and rarely on their own terms. O’Malley spends little time
on Lutheran reactions to Trent, or on the council’s influence beyond Catholicism.
That deficit, defensible in an account of this scope, also parallels a perennial shortcoming in Lutheran studies of the council: the aforementioned lack of attention to
practical

reforms

launched

by

Trent.

Some

of

the

most

interesting

sections

of

O’Malley’s book describe those reforms—and how difficult they were. Lutheran readers will surely identify with many of the concerns that drove these reforms, and some
will be surprised to learn of their scope. By providing a more “realistic” picture of the
early-modern Catholic Church—as an institution struggling to reform its life in the
faith, rather than as an abstract repository of doctrine—O’Malley may offer his most
important corrective to traditional Lutheran views on Trent. One hopes the book
finds many readers.

BY NELSON H. MINNICH ET AL.

763

Response of John W. O’Malley, S.J. (Georgetown University)

I am deeply grateful to Nelson H. Minnich for taking the initiative to organize this
forum, and I am honored by the scholars who responded to his invitation to contribute to it. Moreover, how could I not be gratified by their positive assessments of
Trent: What Happened at the Council? Thank you!

Like all such books, mine is the result of heavy labor and many hours, but I felt
confident in writing it, because I came to see that my whole life had been remote
preparation for it. My parents were Catholics, but my mother’s aunt who raised her
and who lived with us while I was growing up was a Methodist. When I was small, my
parents let her take me to services at the Methodist church in our little town. I meanwhile went to the town’s public grammar school and high school, where half the students were Methodists, the other half Catholics. In our social life (such as it was!), we
kids were ecumenical before our time.

My training in the Jesuit Order was largely framed by updated forms of humanism
and Scholasticism. When I began my doctorate at Harvard, one of my first courses
was on Calvin’s Institutes, taught by Heiko Oberman. It was an exciting experience.
Later, while I was in Rome writing my dissertation on a sixteenth-century reformer,
the Second Vatican Council was in session. The council piqued my curiosity as to how
it related to the Council of Trent. Later still, when I was teaching at the Weston Jesuit
School of Theology in Cambridge, MA, I put together a course called “Two Great
Councils: Trent and Vatican II,” in the belief that the one threw light on the other.
Five years ago, when I finished my book on the Second Vatican Council, the logical
step was to do a book on Trent. My timing was perfect. The year of its publication,
2013, coincides with the 450th anniversary of the closing of the council on December
4, 1563.

Three of the four respondents to my book in this forum called special attention to
the decree of the council on justification. They did well to do so, but not only because
it was the most considered of all the doctrinal decrees of the council—seven months
in the making! The decree also invites reflection on a larger problem of

historical

interpretation: precisely what do such statements accomplish? In the decree on justification the fathers of the council believed their decree asserted the absolute primacy
of grace, while affirming that human beings contribute something, howsoever small,
in the process of their justification/salvation. The result was a coherent and intellectually satisfying statement that deserves admiration.

But what did the decree accomplish beyond serving as such a statement? It certainly did not satisfy “the Lutherans.” In fact, it could not satisfy them, most fundamentally because it exemplified what Buzzi so aptly calls “the divergence of cultural
horizons” between the two parties. The theologians at Trent wanted to be fair, but
they were trained in the agonistic discipline of late Scholasticism, they had an initial
and strong bias against the Reformers, and their proof-texting method distorted their
interpretation of

the texts they examined. The result, as Appold suggests, was two

764

FORUM ESSAY

ships passing the night. No wonder the Lutherans later had so little interest in the
council!

What about Catholics? The decree had a basic flaw—it tried to clarify something
that by definition was and remains a mystery. Its very length and its attempt to answer
every issue relating to the mystery fatally tempted theologians into trying to take the
task further and try to unravel the mystery. The result was two centuries of bitter dispute that erupted first between the Jesuits and the Dominicans in the so-called De auxiliis controversy and then later in the even more bitter, protracted, and destructive
battle between the Jesuits and the Jansenists. Then, after the French Revolution, the
issue simply lost urgency.

The pastoral impact of the decree, even with the pastorally sensitive “chapters”
that preceded the canons, seems to have been minimal except as an affirmation that
“works” really counted towards salvation. Preachers hailed that point and used it to
rail

against

the

Protestants’

error.

Protestants

believed

in

“faith-alone,”

whereas

Catholics believed in “good works.” Preachers generally seemed to have paid not
much more than lip-service to the preeminence of grace that the decree stressed. As
a pastorally practical antidote to Pelagianism, the decree has to rank as a failure.

The decree was in fact too sophisticated to translate easily into a pithy statement
that would be both accurate and pastorally effective. When after the council the
Tridentine Confession of

Faith tried to reduce the decree into a faith-claim, the best it

could do was affirm belief in “each and all the articles defined and declared” by the
council. It was a claim without content.

The justification decree and the decrees on the sacraments meant that Trent
became defined as a doctrinal council. It certainly was. However, such a definition fails
to recognize that it was just as much, if not more, a reform or pastoral council. It minimizes the council’s strenuous and consistently frustrated attempts at reform, which
was the aspect of the council that caused the most severe rifts within it and that at
times threatened to bring the council to a catastrophic end. Yet, despite the frustration
and despite the limitations of Trent’s reform decrees, several of them had a notable
and not altogether unfavorable impact upon how the church operated for the next
four hundred years. I wonder if

it can reasonably be said that in the long run, the

reform decrees were more important than the doctrinal.

BOOK REVIEWS
General and Miscellaneous

Prophètes, apôtres et disciples dans les traditions chrétiennes d’Occident: Vies brèves et listes en latin.
By François Dolbeau. [Subsidia hagiographica, Vol. 92.] (Brussels: Société des
Bollandistes. 2012. Pp. xvi, 437. €79,00 paperback. ISBN 978-2-87365-027-8.)

François

Dolbeau

may

be

known

best,

among

scholars

of

late-ancient

and

medieval Latin studies, for his discovery in 1990 and subsequent publication of
group

of

newly

discovered

sermons

of

St.

Augustine

of

Hippo

(Paris,

a

1996).

Dolbeau, a professor at the École Pratique des Hautes Études and a collaborator in
the Analecta Bollandiana, has had a long and distinguished career as a scholar of
hagiography, sermons, medieval Latin lexicography, and the history of libraries. As a
scholar of manuscripts who bases his scholarship on the contents of European manuscript collections, he has particularly concentrated upon the transmission into Latin
of Greek hagiographical works; this book is a collection of his essays, previously published in journals difficult to find outside specialized libraries. It is the second such collection;

Dolbeau

previously

published

a

collection

e

Sanctorum societas. Récits latins de sainteté (III –XII

e

of

articles

in

two

volumes:

siècles) (Brussels, 2005).

The present volume has two parts: the first, containing five chapters, deals with
“brief

lives” of

prophets and apostles; the second, containing seven chapters, dis-

cusses various examples of short biographies of apostles and lists of disciples. In the
first, there are discussions of biographies of biblical figures before the work of St.
Isidore of Seville, a notable encyclopedist at the end of the early Christian period, as
well as the work attributed to Isidore, known as De ortu et obitu patriarchum, of the lateeighth century. The second half deals with lists of apostles and disciples, translated
into Latin, up until the sixteenth century.

These contents make clear that the search for the earliest founders of Christianity
had not diminished since the late-second century, when the originally Greek-speaking
Irenaeus introduced the doctrine of

apostolic succession to his Western readers.

Irenaeus’s principle was convincing, but it lacked details. Who were the disciples, and
what were their names? Latin readers did not know, and so they turned to Greek apocryphal sources to find lists of seventy or seventy-two disciples. Although these lists
faded from interest in the early-modern period, Dolbeau has found manuscript versions of them, composed at the initiative of individual translators.

In doing so, Dolbeau explains, he was part of a team of scholars attempting to
amplify

and

correct

the

(Leipzig, 1907), a study of

work

of

Theodor

Scherman,

Prophetarum

vitae

fabulosae

works attributed to Dorotheus, Epiphanius, Hippolytus,

765

766

BOOK REVIEWS

and other early Christian authors. The larger project was to sort out the entangled but
distinct Greek and oriental versions of these lives; a division of convenience was made
between the lives of the prophets and those of the apostles and disciples.
Dolbeau admits that the Latin opuscula surveyed in the book may seem at first
glance to lack literary value and historical interest. On the other hand, some Latin
translations are earlier than the surviving copies of the Greek originals to which they
witness and therefore can help establish the texts of their models. The most important lesson to be learned from such investigations, according to Dolbeau, has to do
with l’ordre philologique. Dolbeau’s work is instructive for all students of philology and
hagiography.

The Catholic University of

ROBIN DARLING YOUNG

America

The Friars in Ireland 1224–1540. By Colmán Ó Clabaigh, O.S.B. (Dublin: Four Courts
Press. Distributed in North America by ISBS, Portland, OR. 2012. Pp. xxv, 389.
$39.95 paperback. ISBN 978-1-84692-225-4.)
Ten years after publishing The Franciscans in Ireland (1400–1534): From Reform to
Reformation (Portland, OR, 2002), Colmán Ó Clabaigh now offers an expansion of his
previous work in a text that “constitutes the first attempt to examine the Irish mendicant phenomenon as a whole” (p. xiii) instead of

as separate orders or houses.

Following the same method used in his earlier work, Ó Clabaigh surveys the lifestyle,
history, and impact of

the Augustinians, Carmelites, Dominicans, Franciscans, and

other smaller groups over a period of nearly 300 years. The author consulted internal
mendicant sources, local cultural and historical sources, papal and episcopal records,
local government records, and works by early-modern writers and historians.
Ó Clabaigh treats an enormous amount of detail in a very organized fashion, first
presenting a chronological overview in three chapters, looking at each group of friars
and their structures. Given the types of resources available, it was necessary for the
author to take a synoptical view of events in these chapters. That approach will either
suit or displease the taste of

any given reader. This is especially true in chapter 2,

which allows only twenty-two pages to recount 100 years of history.
The genuine contribution of the book is found in the seven chapters that develop
topics common to all of the groups: their relations with patrons and critics, liturgy and
devotional practices, art and architecture in their houses, formation structures, and the
impact of the mendicants as pastoral agents. Whether dealing with royal patronage,
ethnic divisions between Gaelic and English friars, and participation in mercantilism
or other business arrangements, Ó Clabaigh does not dodge the truth that the friars
were deeply integrated into the economy and spiritual lives of their towns and cities:
the “friars’ reliance on ongoing patronage and continued almsgiving brought them
into contact with a wide cross section of

society” (p. 118). Such involvement was

double-edged, and the author identifies struggles both caused by and suffered by the
friars.

“Institutional

history”—in

the

perspective

of

this

reviewer—requires

the

767

BOOK REVIEWS

human factor to be highlighted, and various excerpts from primary and secondary
sources give the reader straightforward accounts of the blessings and the misfortunes
prompted by their humanity.
Replete with details garnered from history and hagiography, the text includes selections that enliven the narrative history. For example, in the chapter on the lifestyle of
the friars, Ó Clabaigh provides information on the generosity of benefactors toward
the mendicants: providing money to build churches, as well as providing land, fisheries, food, agricultural products, and so forth in return for the prayers and eventual
hospitality of

the friars when the benefactors reached old age and death. Likewise,

there are descriptions that demonstrate the level of respect granted to the mendicants:
If, on occasion, the friars halted at the houses or castles of the nobles to preach, they
were held in such veneration that the earl or baron would himself bring a basin of water
for the friar to wash his hands, and the lady, his wife, would in like manner, bathe his
feet…. However unwilling to do so, they were compelled to accept the first place at the
table of the nobles, where, instead of shafts of mirth producing wit, the tales of the
Old and New Testament, or the history of the well-known holy fathers … were narrated by the senior friar…. (p. 140)

The author includes numerous appealing, informative images throughout. There
are maps, reproductions of

woodcuts, architectural plans, and full-color plates of

items such as statuary and manuscript pages. History is as richly revealed in image as
it is in words in this volume.
ROBERTA A. MCKELVIE, O.S.F.

Alvernia University
Reading , PA

The Atheist’s Bible. The Most Dangerous Book That Never Existed. By Georges Minois.
Translated by Lys Ann Weiss. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press. 2012. Pp. xii,
249. $30.00. ISBN 978-0-226-53029-1.)
In 1239 Pope Gregory IX accused Emperor Frederick II of blasphemy, specifically
of

authorship

of

De

tribus

impostoribus,

a

treatise

denouncing

Moses,

Jesus,

and

Muhammed as imposters. Frederick had not written such a book—at that time there
was no such book—and the present volume is a study of the influence of this accusation over the centuries until finally unknown authors filled the vacuum in the eighteenth
century and produced two versions of it, in Latin and French (the subtitle is thus not
strictly true, but embodies the sensationalism running through the book). There is a
map of the distribution of this work in the eighteenth century, but not all the questions
raised by it are addressed. For instance, why is the work not found in Spain at all? In its
title and subtitle itself arguably the expression of a kind of puffery, this book in fact is
a fascinating study of a chapter in medieval and early-modern atheism.
The “Preface to the English-Language Edition (2012)” expresses certain ideas,
questionable in themselves, but revelatory of biases running through the book. Thus

768

BOOK REVIEWS

we are told that today the Treatise resonates more in the Anglo-phone world than on
the European continent, and that this is because atheism is more freely debated in the
former. Continental Europeans are more reticent about entering such arguments, the
preface states, and practice a consensus, which affirms that all beliefs deserve respect,
even when they defy the most basic level of rational thought:

You might say that Europe has forgotten the spirit of the Enlightenment.… This refusal
to envision a rational critique of the three great monotheistic religions, or even to allow
the debate, favors intellectual stagnation. (pp. ix–x)

Those who doubt the accuracy of such statements will find a good deal to quarrel
with in this book.

The first chapter traces the history of the origin of the quarrel between Gregory
IX

and

Frederick.

Continuing

ambiguity,

imprecision,

and

overgeneralization

are

found in statements such as the following:

In some sense, medieval civilization can be called a civilization of

imposture, to the

extent that the general belief in the permanent intervention of supernatural forces of
good and evil made the world a shadow theater where everyone and everything could
be suspected of being a diabolical illusion. (p. 24)

Chapter 2, on the fourteenth through sixteenth centuries, continues the rhetorical
overkill and moralizing, telling us “that one might speak of these two centuries as a
veritable ‘culture of imposture’” (p. 35). The jabs against religion continue. Remarking
on the fact that “everyone” seemed to believe in the existence of The Three Imposters
but that no one had seen the treatise, Georges Minois remarks, “The theologians had
no need to see in order to believe” (p. 66). The third chapter is on “The European
Elites and Religious Imposture (Seventeenth Century).” Because the argument is that
“[t]he most elaborate version of the Treatise of

the Three Imposters basically took up the

complementary arguments of the two great destroyers of religion in the mid-seventeenth century: Hobbes and Spinoza” (p. 95), chapter 4 takes up the views on religion
of these two and the Radical Enlightenment.

After centuries of existence as a rumor, the Treatise finally came to be, in various
languages and forms, about 1700: this is the subject of chapter 5. Although all along
Minois has introduced and discussed various passages that were to enter the Treatise of
the Three Imposters, his last chapter finally turns to a sustained discussion of the contents of this work. There is an epilogue, two appendices, a glossary of names, and an
index, but no bibliography.

University of

Utah, Salt Lake City

GLENN W. OLSEN

769

BOOK REVIEWS

Ancient

Become

Like

the

Angels:

Origen’s

Doctrine

of

the

(Washington, DC: The Catholic University of

Soul.

By

Benjamin

P.

Blosser.

America Press. 2012. Pp. x, 290.

$69.95. ISBN 978-0-8132-2001-7.)
No theologian’s legacy more exemplifies the tension between philosophy and faith
than that of Origen of Alexandria (c. 185–254 CE)—“the most astonishing sign of
1

contradiction in the history of Christian thought,” says Henri Crouzel.

This tension

is nowhere more evident than in his complex teaching on the human being. In his new
book Become Like the Angels: Origen’s Doctrine of the Soul, Benjamin Blosser argues that
this most hotly contested area of Origen’s system is, in fact, where he wrestles most
passionately with Christian truth.
Major scholarship on Origen’s anthropology has tended to focus on his innovative
doctrine of the spirit (Jacques Dupuis, Crouzel) or contentious matters like the preexistence

of

souls

(Marguerite

Harl)

Surprisingly, a comprehensive survey of

and

their

primordial

his doctrine of

fall

(Jean

Laporte).

the soul—for Origen, the

“very heart of the human person” (Blosser, p. 3)—has not been attempted. Blosser
aims to close this gap.
Blosser acknowledges that, indisputably, Origen borrowed from the diffuse philosophical tradition known today as Middle Platonism. How deep, then, does the influence run? To answer this question, he undertakes an ambitious survey of

Platonic

views on the soul through Origen’s day, deftly untangling its many contradictions,
beginning with Plato and leading up to Philo, Numenius, and Alcinous. The analysis
is so lucidly developed that even readers with only a marginal interest in Origen will
find it a useful guide to the nuances of Middle Platonic psychology.
The philosophical review is pursued in tandem with a comparative study of the
main divisions of

Origen’s doctrine of

the soul. Blosser carefully attends to its sui

generis features: the rational creation, the soul’s radical mutability, and the final restoration (apokatastasis). Throughout the discussion, Blosser correctly highlights the special
role played by the uniquely unfallen “soul of Jesus”—exemplar of the human psyche
and vehicle of its divinization (p. 135).
Blosser

concludes

that

Origen

adheres

to

“the

hermeneutical

strictures

of

Christian revelation” rather than philosophical categories. “While Origen was highly
aware of

Middle Platonic speculations on the soul,” Blosser writes, “[he] is in fact

subtly critical of Middle Platonic theories of the soul…” (p. 267). Yet, he shows, even
more than critiquing the Platonic legacy, Origen endeavors to fulfill its potential by
subduing it to its proper telos in Christ.
According to Blosser, the anthropology of

Origen’s intellectual contemporaries

was bound to “a closed cosmos that operates according to the rigid, quasi-mechanis-

1

Origen, trans. A. S. Worrall (Edinburgh, 1989), p. xi.

770

BOOK REVIEWS

tic laws of dualistic ontology.” It is a worldview with little “positive sense of individual personhood” (pp. 217–18). By contrast, Origen builds upon a doctrinal framework
wherein the central distinction is not between matter and spirit but rather between an
utterly contingent cosmos that is nonetheless free to love its maker and a freely creating God who is nonetheless bound in love to what he has made.
Having recovered the moral ground of ontology, Origen brings fresh eyes to old
quandaries. For example, he overcomes the rigid Middle Platonic division between the
intellectual and animal souls with the intuition that these are not “parts” of a person so
much as the soul’s experience of

being structurally modified by the good and bad

choices that it makes (p. 126). Moreover, the whole created order is God’s provident
synthesis of all such choices. Thus, for Origen, all history—cosmic and terrestrial—is
sacred history or, to use Blosser’s preferred metaphor, a vast drama of “love repudiated
and love redeemed” (p. 198) in which both the soul and the sensible world are the theater (pp. 13, 263). The grinding round of Middle Platonism is replaced by a morally
ordered cosmos wherein the heart’s desires, and so the inner life, have ultimate purpose.
Since Blosser is mainly concerned with Origen’s relationship to Middle Platonic
views on the soul, it is understandable that he will not pursue at length important
themes that do not have clear analogues in the philosophies of the day. He gives only
brief

attention, for instance, to the soul’s “spiritual senses” (pp. 90–91)—one of

Origen’s most original contributions to mystical theology. More disappointing is the
absence of his concept of the “soul of scripture” (PArch 4.2.4). An exact parallel to
the “soul of Jesus” in his Christology, it accounts for how the incarnate Logos continues his ongoing pedagogy of the human soul—a motif central to Blosser’s discussion. It certainly warrants consideration.
Origen is a demanding synthesizer of classical learning and Christian faith. Blosser
skillfully negotiates many of the consequent dilemmas, leading the reader to a greater
appreciation of Origen as both a faithful theologian and creative philosopher in his
own right. Moreover, Become Like the Angels is thoroughly researched, carefully reasoned, and elegantly written—a welcome contribution to the field.
St. James of

J. CHRISTOPHER KING

Jerusalem Episcopal Church

Long Beach, NY

Christians and Their Many Identities in Late Antiquity, North Africa, 200–450 CE. By Éric
Rebillard.

(Ithaca,

NY:

Cornell

University

Press.

2012,

Pp.

x,

134.

$49.95.

ISBN978-0-8014-5142-3.)
We know we all have multiple identities. Éric Rebillard explores the possibility of
looking at early Christians not as bounded, one-dimensional characters with a single
defining identity, but as persons with normal fluid (and sometimes conflicting) identities in which their Christianity was only one of a plurality of identities. To explore this
thesis, he selects as a sample the testimony of writers from North Africa ranging from
the late-second to the early-fifth century—namely, Tertullian, St. Cyprian of Carthage,
and St. Augustine.

771

BOOK REVIEWS

Some will be repelled by the sociological jargon that this exercise seems (unnecessarily) to entail—“groupness,” “deactivate” or “activate,” or “give salience to Christianness,” and so forth—and the analysis seems to work best in the period of Augustine,
where we have fuller material and more ambiguously aligned social and religious figures and obligations. In the case of Tertullian, Rebillard is obliged to “read against the
grain” (p. 6) and
. . . to resist Tertullian’s selective focus on Christianness. When he evokes everyday situations he consistently decontextualizes them in order to force on them his own
agenda about what Christianness should entail. However, the numerous objections he
feels compelled to refute show that his point of view was not shared, or at least not
shared by all Christians. It would be naïve to see “real” objections behind all the objections mentioned by Tertullian, but . . . Tertullian’s rhetorical strategy could not be effective without somehow relating to his audience’s experience. (p. 31)

This

leads

Rebillard

to

be

cautiously

selective

in

Tertullian’s

testimony

on

Christians’ behavior in their social context of the late-second and early-third century
North Africa.
The difficulty of this re-description of a Christian’s individual behavior in neutral
sociological terms is that it is just that: a re-description. It cannot legitimately lead to
the deduction of

an individual’s subjective motivation. But that slippage is what

Rebillard is inclined to make. A case from Cyprian is illustrative.
It is clear that the majority of Christians in Carthage complied with orders of the
Emperor Decius to offer sacrifice, or by bribery or other means obtained a certificate
which certified that they had so offered sacrifice. They became the lapsi. In Rebillard’s
terms they “did not activate their Christian membership in the context of their participation in this civic ceremony” (p. 51). But it does not follow that we can deduce
from this re-description what were their personal motivations. We cannot say “the
majority of Christians complied, as it was a requirement of

their membership in the imperial

commonwealth” (p. 60, emphasis added); or “the majority of Christians did not consider
the sacrifice relevant to their [Christian] membership and accordingly performed it freely and
willingly” (p. 53, emphasis added); or “the majority of

Christians complied with the

edict under no compulsion whatsoever” (p. 50, emphasis added). This knowingly (p. 50)
rejects the testimony that we do have from Cyprian on their motivations—fear of the
penalties for noncompliance, which could include the grim horrors of imprisonment
prevailing in Roman conditions and deadly tortures (De lapsis 13, cp.epp.10, 11, 21); the
rigors of exile

(e.g., ep.24); or at least the very real prospect of utter destitution with

the legal confiscation of all one’s worldly goods and

personal property, expatiated at

considerable length by Cyprian in De lapsis 10–12. Rebillard summarily dismisses
Cyprian’s testimony (p. 50, p. 103n30) to which the reply is, to quote Rebillard’s own
words, that Cyprian’s “rhetorical strategy [in De lapsis] could not be effective without
somehow relating to his audience’s experience.”
It is certainly refreshing to have to consider “the intermittency . . . of Christianness” (p. 93) in the everyday lived experience of individual Christians during the vastly

772

BOOK REVIEWS

changing religious and social conditions prevailing in North Africa over these nearly
three centuries. Rebillard acutely raises the pertinent questions of

what exactly it

meant to be a Christian over these years and what were the parameters of Christian
identity. For this, Rebillard has done us a stimulating and innovative service.
GRAEME CLARKE

Australian National University

Meletius von Antiochien: Studien zur Geschichte des trinitätstheologischen Streits in den Jahren
360–364 n. Chr. By Thomas R. Karmann. [Regensburger Studien zur Theologie,
Band 68.] (Frankfurt a.M.: Peter Lang. 2009. Pp. ix, 541. €80,40; $124.95 paperback. ISBN 978-3-631-56284-0.)
Eduard Schwartz’s assessment of

St. Meletius of

Antioch as one of

the most

obscure personalities of fourth-century church history has become almost a cliché.
Questions abound about the personal conduct of the bishop of Antioch as much as
his theological orientation. That St. Basil of Caesarea showed him unswerving loyalty
must count for something, but despite Meletius’s charismatic and spiritual qualities it
is indisputable that he was also divisive. Some sources describe him as a saint, whereas
others emphasize his opportunism; his supporters saw him as staunchly Nicene,
whereas others cast considerable doubt over his orthodoxy. It is therefore warmly to
be welcomed that Thomas Karmann has devoted, for the first time, a full monograph
to this important figure, even though his treatment is limited to the crucial years after
360 when Meletius organized a group of Eastern bishops in support of the Nicene
Creed. However, Karmann does not break radically new ground in his treatment of
the subject matter. The bulk of his study is largely owed to his scrupulous discussion
of all the evidence that exists for the events of these years. Rather than, for example,
give his own version of Meletius’s election to the see of Antioch in 360, Karmann
offers a detailed comparative account and assessment of the information provided by
Theodoret, Sozomenus, Epiphanius, the historia acephala, and Socrates.
The book is divided into three parts. The first discusses Meletius’s election and
subsequent

deposition

in

360,

the

second

gives

an

in-depth

analysis

of

the

Alexandrian synod of 362, and the third is devoted to the events during the short reign
of Jovian in 363 and their immediate aftermath. Overall, Karmann’s interest is in theological history: by far the most detailed attention is given to Meletius’s “homily” on
Proverbs 8:22, the Tomus ad Antiochenos, and several writings composed by Meletius
and his opponents around 363. How much do they tell us about Meletius himself ?
This, one would think, is the crucial question for the present study: to move beyond
the gridlock that has so far left the bishop of Antioch a somewhat shadowy figure, it
would be crucial to chart his theological development during those years. Of the texts
Karmann studies only the homily from 360 can unequivocally be taken as a witness to
Meletius’s position; the Tomus of 362 is the work of St. Athanasius, and even the letter
to Jovian written from Meletius’s own synod of the following year may bear traces of
negotiation and compromise with his fellow bishops. Can we then distil a single theological position, albeit an evolving one, from these three very different documents?
Or if we cannot, what does that signify? Would we have to conclude that Meletius was

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no great theologian, but instead a skillful organizer of

majorities? Unfortunately,

Karmann’s study does not tackle these central questions at all; rather, its author is content to move the focus of his investigation with the texts he analyzes: from Meletius’s
own homily to the “Meletians” cited by Athanasius to the group of bishops responsible for the letter of 363. As a result, his book, although meriting attention for its careful review of

some central theological texts from the early 360s, leaves the task of

reconstructing the personality and the theology of Meletius as a challenge for future
Patristic scholarship.
JOHANNES ZACHHUBER

Trinity College, Oxford

Medieval
Medieval Public Justice. By Massimo Vallerani. Translated by Sarah Rubin Blanshei.
(Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press. 2012. Pp. xix, 380.
$69.95. ISBN 978-0-8132-1971-4.)
Medieval Public Justice is a very valuable and stimulating book, deserving of a wide
readership. It is a collection of closely related essays. Six of these, four republished
and two new, appeared as a book in Italian in 2005, and to these has been added a further article, “The Petition to the Signore and the Power of Mercy,” originally published
in Quaderni storici in 2009. The pieces work well gathered as a book, although the essay
on petitions treats a rather different sort of case from those that predominate in other
chapters. It would have been good to have an authorial conclusion to the volume,
although the translator’s foreword is some substitute for this.
Various arguments are developed. Firmly rejected is the idea that there was a simple
development from accusatory to inquisitorial procedures, as also, therefore, are connections between changes in procedure and the emergence of a “completed state structure.” Rather, the relationship between the two coexisting forms of procedure is repeatedly examined. Furthermore, trial procedure cannot be analyzed in isolation; rather the
trial needs to be seen as one element in the process of the dispute. Cases and disputes
must be treated in social and political context, seeing how procedures work in practice
rather than according to manuals of procedure; it is here that the relevance of chapter
7, on petitions, is very clear. Phenomena such as peace accords must be seen as part of
the process (see esp. pp. 191–92), not as “a sign of backwardness and weakness in judicial systems” (p. 6). Such accords were not a mere private phenomenon, separate from
public justice, and significantly they spread to inquisitorial trials. In addition, such practices and other modifications of procedure tempered the difference in notions of truth
underlying accusatory and inquisitorial trials; many forces worked against the inquisitorial trial finding an objective reality external to the trial, as opposed to the possible truth
emerging from the confrontational accusatory trial.
The book is characterized by its breadth of approach and by the wide range of
sources. Juristic works, most notably the Tractatus de maleficiis of Alberto Gandino, are
prominent. Legislative texts and consilia provide further views of law as it should be;
some relevant material is helpfully printed as appendices to chapters. In addition, the

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book is filled with case material, set in the context of local political and social relations. Such cases are sometimes treated individually, sometimes quantitatively.
The result is a book that succeeds admirably in combining technical legal history
with the history of disputes and of local politics. Such virtues make the book required
reading for legal historians with interests outside Italy. Particularly stimulating are the
discussion of law and fact (esp. pp. 73–75) and the analysis of how legal arguments
were put forward in court; in an accusatory process, the well-advised party did not set
out a broad, generic statement that the opponent could deny because in one aspect it
was incorrect (for example, a grievous wound really had been inflicted, but to a different part of the body), but rather a series of brief facts, ensuring a succession of
positive answers or forcing the opponent into self-contradiction (pp. 91–92).
Vallerani’s approach is comparative between Italian cities, but further comparisons
will become apparent to readers depending on their background; for example, the coexistence of

accusatory and inquisitorial methods might be compared with Daniel

Klerman’s work on the continuing use of appeal (that is, accusatory process) after the
introduction of the jury of presentment in England.
The translation retains an ornateness of prose that may be alien to the Anglophone
historian such as, for example:
The lawsuits nevertheless involve in an irregular and interlaced manner the lesser territorial divisions, causing the emergence of a demand for procedural mediation that is
extensive and capillary at the same time, which in the majority of city cases concerns
persons who are not residents of the same parish. (p. 138)

However, Sarah Rubin Blanshei is to be heartily congratulated in bringing this fine
book to a wider readership.
University of

Barking

JOHN HUDSON

St. Andrews, Scotland

Abbey

and

Medieval

Literary

Culture:

Authorship

and

Authority

in

a

Female

Community. Edited by Jennifer N. Brown and Donna Alfano Bussell. (Rochester,
NY: York Medieval Press in association with the Boydell Press. 2012. Pp. xii, 334.
$99.00. ISBN 978-1-903153-43-7.)
Barking was a great abbey. According to Bede, it was founded in the seventh century by a saint (Erkenwald) for a saint (his sister, Ethelburga), and began its life as a
Benedictine double foundation, for both men and women. This first abbey was
destroyed by the Vikings in about 870, and when it was eventually resurrected, it was
a house for women only and remained thus until its surrender on November 14, 1539.
Barking was wealthy, prestigious, and influential, with close links to the highest echelons of

English society, and the center of

an important literary culture. Ælfgyva,

abbess from about 1066 to 1086, commissioned the celebrated hagiographer Goscelin
of Saint-Bertin to write (in Latin) the lives of its founding abbesses. Mary Becket, the
sister

of

Thomas,

who

governed

the

house

from

1173

to

1175,

commissioned

Guernes de Pont-Sainte-Maxence to compose (in French) a life of her saintly brother.

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BOOK REVIEWS

And two nuns of Barking composed their own saints’ lives: one, who remains anonymous,

produced

the

first

vernacular

translation,

in

Anglo-Norman,

of

Ælred

of

Rievaulx’s life of Edward the Confessor; and the other, Clemence, translated the life
of St. Catherine of Alexandria, again into Anglo-Norman. An Anglo-Norman collection of

Marian miracles, Le Gracial, was compiled by one Adgar, possibly for the

Barking nuns (he himself may have been a chaplain at the abbey), and there is every
reason to believe that the abbey possessed an extensive library. It certainly had a librarian (libraria) to look after its books. Two other important texts associated with the
abbey are the Ordinale and Customary of

1404 and the fascinating “Charge to the

Barking Cellaress,” written sometime after 1453. There are other manuscripts associated with the house, not all of which are discussed in detail in this book.
The literary culture of this remarkable abbey is the subject of this admirable collection of essays. To gain a glimpse of the whole one need only read the excellent introduction by Donna A. Bussell with Jennifer N. Brown (pp. 1–30) and the perceptive
afterword by Jocelyn Wogan-Browne (pp. 283–96). The collection is divided (like Gaul)
into three parts: the first concerns the abbey in its Anglo-Saxon context, the second in
its Anglo-Norman context, and the third in the later Middle Ages. In part I we find four
chapters that present a detailed consideration of various aspects of Goscelin’s lives of
abbesses

Ethelburga,

Hildelith,

and

Wulfhild.

Chapter

4

ends

with

mention

of

Clemence of Barking and thus leads us into part II of the volume, which contains five
chapters dealing with the anonymous nun’s translation of

the life of

Edward the

Confessor, Clemence’s own life of Catherine of Alexandria, and the Gracial of Adgar.
Guerne’s life of Becket is considered on pages 189–91. The third section of the book
is concerned with the “Charge to the Barking Cellaress” (a most interesting chapter by
Alexandra Barratt) and certain aspects of the Ordinale and Customary—more specifically,
the performance of Easter plays at Barking and monastic liturgy “as the site of creative
engagement” (p. 267) at the abbey. The volume concludes with a comprehensive bibliography (pp. 297–324) and an index (pp. 325–34) that, although serviceable, is not as
detailed as one might like and could be better arranged.
But there is not one of the chapters in this collection that does not have its own
reward, and not one that does not present a thorough scholarly analysis of its particular subject. For anyone interested in what Wogan-Browne calls “the historiography
of female community” (p. 283), nuns’ libraries and literacy, and Barking abbey itself,
this first-class collection of essays is essential reading.

Memorial University of

Newfoundland

DAVID N. BELL

Conversion and Narrative: Reading and Religious Authority in Medieval Polemic. By Ryan
Szpiech. [The Middle Ages Series.] (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.
2012. Pp. xiv, 311. $59.95. ISBN 978-0-8122-4471-7.)
This wide-ranging, erudite study brings a welcome new perspective to the subject
of medieval interfaith polemics. Focusing on literary rather than purely religious or
historical approaches to source texts, Ryan Szpiech’s goal is to show how conversion

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BOOK REVIEWS

stories functioned to convey faith claims in the later Middle Ages. From the twelfth to
the fifteenth centuries, he argues, religious polemics were increasingly characterized by
appeals to new types of auctoritas: not only “rational” discourse (as has long been recognized) but also converts’ specific claims to the “authenticity” of personal experience
and expertise. Although his emphasis is mainly on Christian polemics of the Western
Mediterranean, Jewish and Muslim conversion stories are also included for comparative purposes—in the process reminding us that all conversion accounts need to be
read first and foremost as literary text, and not merely as “factual” expressions of spiritual (auto)biography.
After a survey of previous scholarship on the subtle topic of “conversion,” a first
chapter examines how Pauline and Augustinian conversion paradigms were adapted
and transformed in the later Middle Ages. Fifteenth-century writings of ex-Muslim
Juan Andrés and ex-Jew Pablo de Santa María are presented as examples of how such
updated

paradigms

served

to

further

Christian

theological

attacks

on

Islam

and

Judaism. Chapter 2 goes back several centuries to map changes in Christian notions of
textual “authority” through a long series of (mostly anti-Jewish) texts; twelfth-century
conversion narratives by Herman of

Cologne and Petrus Alfonsi here take center

stage. Shifting focus, chapter 3 turns to Jewish conversion narratives and argues that
these were actually quite rare. No significant polemical genre emerged to highlight outsiders’ adoption of Judaism, and exceptions such as the Genizah story of Obadiah haGer may result from Christian influence. Analysis of rhetorical strategies used by wellknown thirteenth-century Christian polemicists such as Ramon Martí and Ramon
Llull come next, followed by a chapter on the fascinating case of fourteenth-century
proselyte Abner of Burgos/Alfonso of Valladolid. Abner/Alfonso is in some ways
the star of the book, and Szpiech considers his ambiguously Christian yet still proTalmudic texts to be not only the culmination but also a conclusion and a collapse of
their genre, “a turning point in the process of

rethinking the nature of

authority

through narration that began two centuries earlier” (p. 145). A chapter on Muslim conversion stories rounds out the book with authors such as former Jew Samaw’al alMaghribī

and

ex-Franciscan

Anselm

Turmeda

(‘Abd

Allāh),

confirming

Szpiech’s

thesis that conversion rhetoric had a distinct and vital role to play in the texts of
medieval Christianity above all.
There is much to be debated in this multifaceted study, and the book raises as many
questions as it answers. One may ask, for example, whether the categories of Christian,
Muslim, and Jewish do not overly simplify or even essentialize the works and authors
treated therein. Conversion is, after all, an inherently unstable process, and texts can
take on considerably different functions in the hands of different readers in different
times and places. The fact that so little attention is devoted to important problems of
textual production, distribution, intended audience, and audience reception also needs
to be considered. Conversion and Narrative is a dense and by no means an easy read; each
chapter swarms with both complex theoretical discussion and a plethora of specific
examples, some of

which will be unfamiliar to most readers. Jewish and Islamic

sources in particular cry out for further treatment, as the author acknowledges (p.
225). Still, Szpiech’s impressive analytical and linguistic skills have allowed him to pro-

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duce a work of singular value, which will undoubtedly open up new lines of research
for the future.

ROBIN VOSE

St. Thomas University
Fredericton, New Brunswick, Canada

e

Églises en dialogue: Arméniens et Byzantins dans la seconde moitié du XII siècle. By Isabelle
Augé.

[Corpus

Scriptor um

Christianor um

Orientalium,

Vol.

633;

Corpus

Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium, Subsidia. Tomus 124.] (Leuven: Peeters.
2011. Pp. xxx, 317. €75,00 paperback. ISBN 978-90-429-2357-7.)

This publication is a revised version of Isabelle Augé’s dissertation, “Les discussions religieuses arméno-grecques au temps des catholicos Pahlawouni,” presented in
2008 at the Université Paul Valéry-Montpellier III and directed by Gérard Dédéyan.
The volume constitutes a thorough study of nineteen letters in Armenian pertaining
to the dialogue on reconciliation between the Armenian and Byzantine Churches,
initiated in 1165 by Nersēs IV Klayec‘i (nicknamed Šnorhali, the “Gracious”) during
the Catholicosate of his elder brother Grigor III (in office 1113–66), whom he succeeded as Catholicos (in office 1166–73). The sustained efforts for reconciliation
continued under Nersēs’s successor, his nephew Grigor IV Tłay (the “Youth,” in
office

1173–93)

and

1175–98). Eleven of
(reigned

1143–80)

grandnephew

Nersēs

of

Lambron

(Archbishop

of

Tarsus,

these letters were to/from the Emperor Manuel I Komnenos
and

four

to/from

Michael

III

of

Anchialus,

patriarch

of

Constantinople (in office 1170–77). The preface by Jean-Pierre Mahé sets the larger
historical context of the correspondence (pp. v-viii).

The study is divided into two major parts. The first part delineates the historical,
dogmatic, and liturgical divide between the two churches that necessitated Šnorhali’s
initiative (pp. 1–90). The second part consists of a finely annotated translation of the
letters (pp. 91–243). The first ten letters are those of Šnorhali to the Byzantine authorities and their responses; the eleventh is his letter to the bishops and theologians of
the Armenian Church. The remaining eight letters pertain to his successor, Grigor IV.
Letters no. 12 to no. 17 are written to or are from the Byzantine authorities, letter no.
18 is from the Armenian bishops and theologians to Grigor IV, and letter no. 19 is his
response to them. For all but one of these letters, Augé follows the text of the 1871
Jerusalem edition of

Šnorhali’s Encyclicals. For the exceptional fifteenth letter, from

Grigor IV to Manuel I, she follows the text published by Aršak Ter Mik‘elean (Ararat,
26 [1893], 25–48).

The

volume

has

three

lengthy

appendices

(pp.

245–303),

composed

of

an

annotated translation of Nersēs of Lambron’s assessment of the issues at stake, the
demands and counter-demands made by both sides (cf. the table provided on p. 78);
his 1197 dialogue with George II Xiphilinus, patriarch of Constantinople (in office
1191–98); and a well-outlined biography of Šnorhali. One wonders why the first and
second appendices were not combined to make a third part of the study, so as to show

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BOOK REVIEWS

the aftermath of

the once-sustained dialogue that came to a halt at the ill-fated

Council of Hŕomklay in 1178, and why the third appendix was not incorporated into
the introductory part.
Augé’s annotation is a model of clarity in presenting ancient documents, considering the debated theological issues. She focuses just as much on historical developments

as

she

does

on

Christological

nuances

in

differing

positions

between

Chalcedonians and non-Chalcedonians. She is good at analyzing the responsibility for
the eventual failure of

the attempts at reconciliation, the obvious intransigence on

both sides: on the one hand, the mostly unyielding position of the Byzantines, with
their demand that the Armenian Church agrees to the dictates of Chalcedon besides
endorsing certain liturgical reforms, and on the other hand the unwarranted suspicion
of the traditionalist bishops of the Eastern provinces of the Armenian highlands, ever
concerned about the future of

their “compromising” Church while the Catholicoi

resided in Cilicia.
Still, her annotation of

Šnorhali’s spelling out the Armenian Church’s historical

understanding of the nature(s) of the Incarnate Word requires further clarification, for
he was misunderstood by his own bishops in the East, who seem to have been oblivious to his likely source, the tractate Against the Phantasiastae (Enddēm Erewut‘akanac‘) by
Catholicos Yovhan(nēs) III Ōjnec‘i (in office 717–728). She invites repeated attention
to the latter’s canons when considering the fifteenth letter (pp. 17, 54, 191n253,
202n292), but only in passing does she allude to this crucial source when annotating the
first letter (p. 97n17, referring to Dorfmann-Lazarev’s meritorious work). In the tractate
Ōjnec‘i states: “Now it is patent that it is the inscrutable union, and not any mutation
in the natures, that leads us to say ‘one nature’ of the Incarnate Word.”
Augé excels in recognizing nuanced arguments, and her grasp of

linguistic and

rhetorical features in ancient letters is superb. However, her reading of difficult words
and translation of Christologically loaded terms allow—at least occasionally—for yet
another take on specific meanings.
The volume makes a tremendous historical contribution by resurrecting obscured
chapters from an earlier history of

ecumenism. It has a most rightful place in the

CSCO series.
St. Nersess Armenian Seminary

ABRAHAM TERIAN

New Rochelle, NY

Order and Disorder : The Poor Clares between Foundation and Reform. By Bert Roest. [The
Medieval Franciscans, Vol. 8.] (Boston: Brill. 2013. Pp. viii, 441. $228.00. ISBN
978-90-04-24363-7.)
Bert Roest presents in this volume a comprehensive modern portrayal of the Poor
Clares from their foundation through the early-sixteenth century. His task was enormous, as the mostly small monasteries of Poor Clares have no central administration.
Even identifying Poor Clares as being an “Order” or a “movement” is debated, and

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BOOK REVIEWS

papal bulls themselves contribute to rather than clarify the confusion, prescribing a
variety of Rules to different monasteries, giving and rescinding privileges, and using
vocabulary that is canonically ambiguous—such as, should Poor Clares be called “sisters” or “nuns?”
Complexities aside, what Roest accomplishes in Order and Disorder : The Poor Clares
between Foundation and Reform is a readable and historically astute rendering of the early
history of Franciscan Poor Clare sisters. The first chapter is a review of the history of
St. Clare of Assisi and the emergence of the Damianite Order that can be passed over
by

those

who

already

know

this

story

well.

The

second

chapter—“Damianites,

Minoresses, Poor Clares”—is again well known by scholars, but is another attempt to
document a movement that evolved even as canonical precepts were trying to catch
up. The new material of the volume begins with chapter 3, “The Expansion of the
Order until c. 1400,” and outlines the foundations of female Franciscan monasteries
throughout Europe until the Observant reforms. Because Poor Clare houses are
autonomous rather than centrally governed, each local house must be studied individually before statements regarding regulatory precepts and organizational trends can be
deduced. Given that much of the data for this still resides in local archives and requires
considerable linguistic skill to negotiate Romance, Germanic, and Eastern European
languages, what Roest has done in this chapter is groundbreaking (although the
Eastern European sources are still lacking for the most part). Most refreshingly, Roest
is humble in his assessments and admits lacunae in records arising from the tragedies
of the Hundred Years’ War, the Wars of Religion, the Napoleonic Wars, the French
Revolution, and, of course, the catastrophic destruction of the World Wars. Because
Poor Clare sisters often reside in small local monasteries, these houses, along with their
records, frequently suffered the same fates in the previously mentioned disasters as the
local populations. Sadly, the maps illustrating the spread of Poor Clare monasteries
throughout Europe are poorly reproduced in this text, and no photos are included—
a missed opportunity.
In chapter 4, “Implementing Reforms,” Roest takes on the imposing challenge of
attempting to classify religious houses of Franciscan sisters under various Franciscan
reforms. The author admits that this chapter is but an outline to introduce readers to
the various reforms of the Poor Clares throughout Europe, but the chapter serves as
an unparalleled starting point for further research on this topic. The chapter offers
snapshots in reforms originating in Castile, Burgundy, Italy, Spain, Alsace, Germany,
Austria, and the Low Countries. What Roest does in his text is keep his eyes fixed on
the sisters, rather than the friars, in the study of these reforms—a refreshing reprieve.
The last two chapters outline the socio-religious and economic realities of

various

houses and the artistic contributions of Poor Clare sisters. These chapters again serve
as a stepping-stone for further research.
All in all, Roest’s text is a superb introduction to those who wish to understand the
development of the Order of Poor Clares. Readers should understand that this history is complex and local, and take Roest’s own cautions concerning the tentativeness
of his assessments to heart. That being said, it is magnificent that Franciscan women

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have with this text a more comprehensive view of their past, with a blueprint that will
certainly focus scholarly work for the foreseeable future.
JOAN MUELLER

Creighton University
Omaha, NE

Bishops,

Clerks,

and

Diocesan

Governance

in

Thirteenth-Centur y

England:

Reward

and

Punishment. By Michael Burger. (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2012. Pp.
xviii, 313. $99.00. ISBN 978-1-107-02214-0.)
Attempts to break through the institutional structures of the medieval church to
analyze more personal relations among its personnel face considerable challenges, of
both evidence and interpretation. Michael Burger firmly acknowledges and confronts
those challenges, as he seeks to understand how thirteenth-century English bishops
acted as “line managers” (although he does not actually use the term) within their dioceses, rewarding and (if

necessary) disciplining their administrators—by whom he

means the clerics, not the laymen. His main sources are, necessarily, the somewhat
impersonal administrative records, in a critical transitional century for bureaucratic
processes and record keeping. Much of the relevant material is now printed, and so
the book is firmly anchored in the volumes of the English Episcopal Acta project and
editions of bishops’ registers; it also reflects solid engagement with other material and
direct archival work.
The short part I sets out “The Problem”—how might a bishop use carrots and
sticks to reward or punish his clerical administrators? As Burger points out, a life in
episcopal service was not always easy; it had its costs, dangers, tensions, and potential
insecurities. Yet it was a career path that could bring opportunity and lifelong financial security.
The book’s core is part II, precisely on “Rewards and Punishments”—although the
former allow more comment than the latter. For Burger (and, as he convincingly
argues, for the administrators) the key reward was a benefice, ideally a rectory, specifically because it gave lifelong and almost unbreakable tenure. Benefices therefore head
the list of rewards, being discussed in chapters 2 and 3. Chapter 4 turns to pensions,
whether granted unconditionally by the bishop, or offered (possibly by third parties
following episcopal pressure) as stopgaps until replaced by a benefice. Chapter 6 deals
with lesser rewards, including straightforward gifts, secular grants, and turning a blind
eye to malfeasance. Only with chapter 7 does “Punishment” provide a chapter title.
The mechanisms considered there—ranging from bonds and excommunication to
imprisonment and social exclusion—were not the only ones available to a bishop. The
chapters on benefices and pensions incorporate the potential for disciplinary action
into their commentary, citing temporary sequestration or permanent deprivation of
benefices; intermittent nonpayment or actual cancellation of pensions; and failure—
or refusal—to provide a benefice instead of a pension.
Part

III

suggests

addresses issues of

“Consequences,”

with

three

very

different

foci.

Chapter

8

“Patronage Hunger,” primarily bishops’ responses to their own

781

BOOK REVIEWS

need to acquire and exploit opportunities to appoint to benefices in order to enable
them to meet the expectations of their administrators (without mentioning any others
expecting their patronage). Chapter 9 examines in some detail issues of “Continuity
and Discontinuity of Service,” tracing careers across episcopates and the administrative
caesuras brought by a new bishop. Chapter 10—perhaps the most speculative and least
convincing—seeks to assess “Affection and Devotion,” by breaking through the documents’ formulaic language to unveil a culture of friendship and devotion that potentially made the links between bishops and their clerks human as well as institutional.
Punishment—or disciplinary action—is less evident than reward in the analysis.
Burger suggests that it happened rarely; but here the sources may deceive. It is possible

that

low-level

action,

especially

temporary

sequestrations,

is

under-recorded,

whereby even beneficed knuckles could be legally rapped. Here, however, the volume’s
subtitle really is subsidiary. Primarily, this is a valuable and useful discussion of the
career relations between English bishops and their dependent administrators. Its evidence may derive from the thirteenth century; but its analysis applies across the later
medieval period.
University of

The Two Latin Cultures and the Foundation of
Ronald

R. N. SWANSON

Birmingham, United Kingdom

G.

Witt.

(New

York:

Renaissance Humanism

Cambridge

University

Press.

in Medieval Italy. By
2012.

Pp.

xii,

604.

$120.00. ISBN 978-0-521-76474-2.)
As Ronald Witt explains at the beginning of this book, he began his research into
Italian culture in 1977 with the idea of studying language, literature, and education in
the kingdom of Italy from the Carolingian period until the fifteenth century. It was
only later that he decided to divide his initial project into two parts and to publish first
the book that dealt specifically with the (much better studied) first 150 years of the
humanist movement; that book turned out to be the monumental “In the Footsteps of the
Ancients”: The Origins of

Italian Humanism from Lovato to Bruni (Boston, 2000). Indeed,

the historiography of the earlier period has been a mess, with studies of varying quality on single localities, authors, or texts but nothing to provide a general overview. But
Witt never lost sight of his original plan, and now we have the book to fill the gap in
the historiography that originally stymied him. This will be an essential work for historians of medieval culture and not just in Italy, for in addition to sifting the wheat
from the abundant chaff of earlier research, Witt’s deep familiarity with the original
sources permits him to arrive at a comprehensive picture of Italian culture and education from the eighth to the thirteen centuries.
Witt introduces the concept of the dual Latin cultures of medieval Italy in part I,
covering the period between the Carolingians and the late-eleventh century. Although
the first of these cultures, focused on studying books and centered in ecclesiastical
schools, is familiar to all scholars of medieval Europe, Italy was unique in possessing
a second strata of education and culture largely in the hands of laymen, especially the
legal

professionals—notaries

and

judges—of

northern

Italy.

Not

only

does

second culture, focused on law and expressed by the production and use of

this

docu-

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BOOK REVIEWS

ments, have no parallel elsewhere in Europe, but Witt shows in parts II and III that it
grew in importance in the later eleventh and twelfth centuries as it expanded to include
ars dictaminis, the study of

Roman law, and eventually canon law. But the growing

importance of legal studies had the effect of greatly restricting the role in Italian culture of other kinds of literary activities. Little poetry was written in the twelfth-century kingdom of Italy, and what there was usually took as its subject local, civic concerns. The same was true of

history, and even hagiography—often a subject that

inspired more ambitious Latin prose—rarely achieved anything of literary interest.
In parts IV and V Witt turns his attention to the thirteenth century, beginning with
an explicit comparison with the literary culture of twelfth-century France, where by
the later part of the century the elements of Italian ars dictaminis merged into a broader
study of rhetoric and composition, including manuals for composing sermons. By the
thirteenth century, these influences fed back into Italy as they were taken up both by
the papal initiatives in favor of preaching and in the education and practice of the
growing class of notaries. Although still overwhelmingly laymen, these notaries were
now educated at Bologna and elsewhere to an increasingly sophisticated mastery of
Latin, and they put those skills to use as authors of histories, defenders of the active
life of the towns, and eventually pioneers in returning to classical norms of eloquence.
With this last development, seen in Lovato de’ Lovati, a notary of Padua, and his disciple and successor Albertino Mussato, we arrive at the starting point of
Footsteps of

“In the

the Ancients.” In this book, therefore, Witt demonstrates how the unique

culture of the Italian humanism grew out of the unique culture of medieval Italy.
CHARLES M. RADDING

Michigan State University

Marks of

Distinction: Christian Perceptions of

Jews in the High Middle Ages. By Irven M.

Resnick. (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press. 2012. Pp.
xiii, 385. $69.95. ISBN 978-0-8132-1969-1.)
Before Charles Darwin, Gregor Mendel, and the science of genetics, how were distinctions to be drawn between peoples for the most part outwardly indistinguishable?
In the case of Europe’s Jewish minority, some such marks were self-evident: the circumcision demanded by Jewish religious practice, or the badges that, from 1215,
Christian authorities demanded that the Jews wear on their outer costume. Others
were traced to hidden inner realities, psychosomatic (that the irrationality of

the

Jewish rejection of Christ was characteristically feminine and that Jewish men were
therefore cursed with female menses), humoral (that Jewish diet encouraged a surfeit
of black bile and that Jews were therefore melancholic and of dark complexion), physiological (that Judaism could be equated with leprosy, and Jews with lepers), or astrological (that Jews were governed by Saturn who, like the Jews with Christ, indulged in
the slaughter and consumption of his own offspring). In recent years, there has been
no shortage of scholarly attention paid to such themes to which Irven M. Resnick now
devotes a monumental synthesis. Whereas previous commentators—most notably
Ruth Melinkoff, Sarah Lipton, and Heinz Schreckenberg—have focused upon the
iconographical representation of Jews in medieval Christian art, Resnick is principally

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BOOK REVIEWS

interested in text rather than image. To this end, he offers a wealth of translation from
primary sources, adding his own insightful commentary. He is particularly attuned to
the role played by Christian converts from Judaism in the spread of
polemic. Various of

his expositions, not least of

anti-Jewish

the association between Jews and

lepers or of the meanings attached to circumcision in both Christian and Jewish exegesis, are not only original but definitive. If there is a certain lack of architectural focus
to this book, by the end readers should be in no doubt that Resnick himself inclines
to Gavin Langmuir’s theoretical model, outlined in the opening few pages, that racial
antisemitism was a medieval, not merely a modern, impulse. As Resnick demonstrates
in case after case, many of the themes common to later “racist” stereotyping of Jews
(insatiable libido combined with feminine cowardice, polluted blood satisfied only by
the sacrifice of Christian innocence, the foetor Judaicus revealing the insincerity of most
Christian converts from Judaism) emerged from premodern ideas of Jewish otherness.
In so rich a synthesis, there are inevitably lapses in point of detail. Resnick’s bibliography is vast, multilingual, and a scholarly monument in its own right. It nonetheless
omits a number of significant studies, for example, by Sophia Menache (on Matthew
Paris and the Jewish-Mongol “plot” of

1241), Zefira Rokéah (on Jewish coin-clip-

ping), or by Colum Hourihane on medieval ideas of the Jewishness of Pontius Pilate.
Resnick is not always secure in his handling of

evidence, for example, that derived

from English chancery rolls or from chroniclers such as “Ralph of Hoveden” (p. 253,
recte Roger of Howden). More generally, there is a risk, as in all studies of mentalités, of
allowing a shower of disparate information, gathered from across two millennia, to
coalesce into something misleadingly systematic. For all of the individual themes that
Resnick rehearses, drawing on evidence that extends from Tacitus to the world of the
Völkischer Beobachter, no single premodern authority can be claimed to have perceived
Jews or Jewishness with quite the coherence that Resnick allows. All stereotypes are
themselves the product of deeper human neuroses. Hence Norman Cohn’s demonstration that the early-modern witch craze was inspired by “inner demons” that had
already caused the persecution of early Christians, Jews, and heretics. Resnick’s masterly exposition of the links between medieval perceptions of Jews and lepers serves
as a warning that to study any particular minority in isolation risks the creation of an
academic subdiscipline artificially set apart from the scholarly main.
This is a book of generous profusion. It should be read not just by those interested in medieval Jews, but by all concerned to understand the fears that lead majorities to persecute minorities as an enemy within.

University of

East Anglia

NICHOLAS VINCENT

The Feast and the Pulpit: Preachers, Sermons and the Cult of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, 1235–ca.
1500. By Ottó Gecser. [Collana della Società internazionale di studi francescani,
Saggi 15.] (Spoleto: Fondazione Centro Italiano di Studi sull’Alto Medioevo. 2012.
Pp. xvi, 462. €58,00 paperback. ISBN 978-88-7988-589-8.)
In this study, a revised version of his dissertation, Ottó Gecser examines the cult
of St. Elizabeth of Hungary (also known as Elizabeth of Thuringia), who died at the

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age of twenty-four in the odor of sanctity in 1231. At her death she was already recognized as a saint. One of her hagiographers recorded the frenzy that took place as
her body lay in state, when the crowd ripped pieces from her clothing, and others
made relics by cutting off her hair, nails, and even—grotesquely—her nipples. Pope
Gregory IX wasted no time in canonizing her; she was inscribed into the register of
saints in 1235. In three chapters, Gecser takes us through the institutionalization of
Elizabeth’s cult and its diffusion through preaching. Although Gecser’s main focus is
on sermons, he lays the groundwork in the first chapter by treating the vitae, liturgy,
institutional dedications, and the Marburg pilgrimage, each a cornerstone of

the

emerging cult. One interesting finding is that Franciscan hagiography was slow to
adopt Elizabeth as one of its own; it was not until the fifteenth century that her affiliation as a Franciscan tertiary was stabilized. Another point, regarding institutional
dedications, is that 24 percent of the hospital dedications in the Empire honored St.
Elizabeth. Gecser sensibly hypothesizes that since noble women were frequently
patrons of hospitals, this statistic suggests that Elizabeth’s role as hospital founder at
Marburg may have provided inspiration for other women of her status to do similarly
in the name of the saint.
Chapters 2 and 3, thoroughly supported by the three appendices, are the heart of
this study as they deal with the sermons, the means by which the cult was consolidated.
Gecser has excavated 103 of them (well described in appendix I), 40 percent of which
came from the territories of the Empire and were produced by the friars. Given that
Elizabeth herself was associated with both Hungary and Thuringia, this conclusion is
not altogether surprising, but we must also remember that Johannes Baptist Schneyer’s
great Repertorium of sermons—the starting point for any work on medieval preaching—skews in that direction anyway as his research rested heavily on manuscript holdings located in the old imperial territories. That the great preachers of her cult were
the friars is not particularly surprising either as they were the predominant preachers
of the period. Indeed, although Caesarius of Heisterbach (a Cistercian) produced the
first known sermon on Elizabeth on the anniversary of her canonization, Gecser finds
that two-thirds of the thirteenth-century sermons on the saint were authored by either
Franciscan or Dominican friars in roughly equal numbers, dispelling again any notion
that from early days she was associated with the Franciscan Order. Indeed, the Friars
Preacher had good reason to affiliate themselves with the saint as she was canonized
in

their

convent

in

Perugia.

Moreover,

within

decades

of

their

foundation,

the

Dominicans also forged strong connections with the royal families in Hungary and
Naples (not incidentally aligned by marriage), who were interested in promoting the
sanctity of their common saintly ancestor.
Samples of the sermons of the mendicants number among the eighteen skillfully
edited texts that Gecser includes in appendix III, along with those by the Czech
preacher Jan Milič and King Robert of Naples, among others. Robert’s sermon on the
saint dwelled both upon her royal status and her marital status as widow, a thema taken
from Rev. 18:7. Other themata pertaining to Elizabeth are catalogued in appendix II
and admirably explicated in chapter 3. Ultimately Gecser’s is a careful and thorough
study of the preaching on St. Elizabeth of Hungary in the later Middle Ages. We are,

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BOOK REVIEWS

however, left with the vexing question of why the Franciscan “super-preachers” of the
fifteenth century at the end of his period—Bernardino of Siena, James of the March,
Roberto Caracciolo, and John of

Capestrano—neglected to honor the saint with a

feast-day sermon just at the time the Order had definitively adopted her as one of
their own.
The Catholic University of

KATHERINE L. JANSEN

America

The Life and Miracles of Saint Margaret of Cortona (1247–1297). By Fra Giunta Bevegnati.
Translation and Introduction by Thomas Renna; edited by Shannon Larson. (St.
Bonaventure, NY: Franciscan Institute Publications. 2012. Pp. 344. $44.95 clothbound, ISBN 978-1-57659-301-1; $29.95 paperback, ISBN 978-1-57659-207-6.)
St. Margaret of Cortona packed a great deal of adventure into her early life. As an
adolescent, she ran away and lived out of wedlock with a young nobleman. When he
died, she and their son were rejected by both sets of parents. They went to Cortona,
where she was given lodging and eventually employment as a midwife. During the following years (c. 1272–89) Margaret became a Franciscan tertiary, lived in a cell near the
Franciscan house, sent her son off to be a Franciscan, adopted Fra Giunta as her spiritual guide and eventually her amanuensis, had regular conversations with Christ,
founded

a

hospital,

arbitrated

disputes,

and

came

to

be

recognized

as

arguably

Cortona’s most eminent resident. This period yielded to a final one when she moved
to a more remote cell near the highest point in Cortona, persuaded the bishop to
rebuild the nearby church of St. Basilio, and was buried there (thus disappointing the
Franciscans) when she died in 1297.
Giunta compiled the Life by 1308, mainly with an eye toward the canonization proceedings

that

seemed

justified

by

the

flourishing

cult

around

Margaret’s

tomb.

(Canonization was actually delayed until 1728.) His work is a heterogeneous collection
of recurring themes. Major ones are discussed below.
There

are

seemingly

endless

conversations

between

Christ

and

Margaret,

his

spouse. Often he asks her if she loves him; then the conversation proceeds in surprising directions, often resembling the imperfect communication of an actual couple.
Margaret’s desire to share Christ’s suffering plays an important role in these conversations, as do her future heavenly bliss and worldly renown.
Sometimes Christ engages in social criticism, often in the form of

apocalyptic

prophecy forecasting tribulation for Margaret and/or the Franciscans. Christ periodically states his qualified approval of the Franciscan Order.
Much attention is paid to Margaret’s taxing devotional practices, which lie at the
headwaters of a long tradition running through the fourteenth-century Meditations on
the Life of

Christ, St. Ignatius of Loyola’s Spiritual Exercises, and the contemporary

Vineyard Church as described recently by T. M. Luhrmann. In effect, Margaret relives
the gospel story, often crossing the line between meditative recollection and a visionary state in which she becomes an actual participant (often St. Mary Magdalene).

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BOOK REVIEWS

Giunta/Margaret/Christ acknowledge that some of

the detail encountered in these

imaginative recapitulations cannot be found in the New Testament.
There are generous hints that some Franciscans (and other Cortonesi) had doubts
about both Margaret’s credentials as a mystic and the wisdom of her move up the hill.
Thomas Renna’s introduction is instructive, although more on two issues would
have been welcomed. First, how should we deal with the fact that the experience of a
relatively uneducated female mystic is mediated through an educated male mendicant?
Who is the author here? Second, what is the connection between Giunta/Margaret
and the spiritual Franciscans? Renna sees signs of Giunta’s spiritual Franciscan sympathies; yet this reviewer remains skeptical. These issues come together in recent
scholarship, including Maria Caterina Jacobelli’s argument that we know little about
Margaret and what we read is largely Giunta’s spiritual Franciscan polemic; Mario
Sensi’s suggestion that what we have is Giunta trying to put the best face on Margaret’s
drift away from the Cortona Franciscans toward a more spiritual Franciscan stance;
and

this

reviewer’s

contention

that

there

is

little

evidence

that

either

Giunta

or

Margaret harbored spiritual Franciscan sympathies. All three scholars are cited in the
same footnote without any acknowledgment that they differ sharply.
Renna is a good translator. Combining accuracy with readability is no mean feat.
Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University

DAVID BURR

Reassessing Reform: A Historical Investigation into Church Renewal. Edited by Christopher M.
Bellitto and David Zachariah Flanagin. (Washington, DC: The Catholic University
of America Press. 2012. Pp. xiv, 289. $69.95. ISBN 978-0-8132999-8.)
Some fifty years ago Gerhart Ladner opened a new line of research in medieval
history with his “Idea of Reform,” which was intended to be a multivolume study, but
the only one completed was on the early-medieval world. Now after much research
and questioning by many scholars, this collection looks at Ladner’s insights and his
impact. How valid was the model Ladner projected, and how much more we know
from his line of thought or from going beyond or apart from his perspective, are a
few of the questions presented by these articles.
After a brief introduction, explorations, and an overview that examines the various
meanings attached to “reform” (personal, ecclesial, social), in part I three former students of Ladner look back at his work. Lester K. Field describes what the light of further research has told us. Louis B. Pascoe, S.J., reflects on the terminology and ideology,
whereas Phillip H. Stump argues for the continuing relevance of this seminal book. Field
notes that Ladner’s idea had little impact on Patristic and late Romanist scholars, and
Field confronts the dilemma of the “nominalist” view that there is no “reform” as such
but only the individual reforms and reformers. Pascoe takes up renewal ideology in its
varieties and the idea of reform as something distinctively Christian (such as individual
versus cosmological-deterministic). For Ladner, reform was linked to conversion, baptism, and penance, and he talked of the danger of false reform. Stump sees the influ-

BOOK REVIEWS

787

ence of biblical and patristic reform ideas on later reform ideology with a clear difference between reform and other ideas of renewal. Some reform movements had negative qualities (such as those affecting women). Jean Gerson and Pierre d’Ailly were proponents of

hierarchical reform—that is, top-down. One telling phrase here is that

“reform was desirable, to be reformed was less so” (p. 48). Stump considers Johannes
Helmrath, Jürgen Miethke, Kaspar Elm, and John Van Engen and what they have added
to our understanding of reform in its late-medieval form.
The remainder of this book is “praxis”: models and case studies of medieval and
later reform. Ken Grant shows that Pope Gregory VII in his view of reform stressed
truth over custom but was also wary of

innovation and approached the crises in a

polemical and revolutionary way. He wished to restore the original ordering of

the

Church (a theme that recurs so often over the ages). He started with a prophetic voice
(under constraint to announce the truth) but moved to a demanding and coercive tone
as he articulated the authority of
Vargas takes up the case of

the papacy in contrast with civil power. Michael

the Dominicans in the fourteenth century in regard to

reform and theory. He asks whether Ladner’s idea that there is constant and meaningful change in the Church is a workable device to examine this era; was there decline and
decay in the fourteenth century, or was there a series of reform periods? Was there
much achieved? Did stronger administrative structures and redrawn lines of authority
really indicate or bring on true reform? He opts for what he sees as John O’Malley’s
view that the Second Vatican Council has raised a new perspective on reform that
supersedes Ladner’s study. C. Colt Anderson looks back at the famed reformer Jan Hus,
discussing Hus’s apparent following of Gregory VII in the call for reform—especially
in his criticism of

simony. Was he old-fashioned for his time? The accusation of

Donatism against Hus is shown to be a modern construct, but what Hus said and how
he said it were not taken well by his opponents. Gerald Christianson picks up the story
with the Hussites at the Council of Basel. Here we find some common reference points
of that era: the notion of a pure primitive Church before Constantine, the idea of the
vita apostolica. The pope in turn saw a reforming assembly like Basel as a threat especially
in its dealing with the Hussites—who was to lead the reform in the Church? On the
other hand, who really spoke for the Hussites, as they were divided on many key points?
David Albertson considers one of the lesser known figures of the conciliarist era,
Heymeric de Campo, who wrote De potestate ecclesiastica just after Nicholas of Cusa’s De
concordantia catholica (1433). Heymeric brought his studies in mathematics into his
reform ideology and search for unity. He followed St. Augustine on the significance of
number (which Ladner had shown). William Hyland examines the Premonstratensians
as voices of

reform in the age of

councils. Since they followed the Rule of

St.

Augustine, they sought to extrapolate its insights into a model for the wider Church
such as stress on conduct, fraternal correction, prudence, and primacy of the common
good, as well as the concept that the proper love of self leads to love of others and
thus to service, especially on the part of superiors.
Ann Astell compares St. Hildegard of Bingen and Nicholas of Cusa on the role of
the Eucharist, memory, and reform in some of their writings. Since they interpreted

788

BOOK REVIEWS

the role of the priest quite differently, the Eucharistic celebration was seen differently.
Inigo Bocken discusses lay piety in Nicholas and so naturally looks at the Devotio
Moderna, Nicholas’s ideas of reform and the vision of God, and his reform proposals.
A

on

the

Carthusians as public intellectuals and as advisers to lay elites on the eve of

vision

of

refom

required

a

reform

of

vision.

Dennis

Martin

writes

the

Reformation. These Carthusian writings were neither scholastic nor monastic devotional but aimed at a special lay audience. He takes up several writers who are not well
known now but had a wide influence in their own time with their stress on service to
others as the way to God, on business ethics, and on medicine. In the final contribution William V. Hudon examines a longue durée as he conceptualizes reform from 1414
to 1633 as the “long sixteenth century.” Hudon points out that with all the studies
done, we are still left with too much of a black/white view in the popular mind and
culture that sees a world of heroes and demons and not enough accurate history. He
asks why this simplistic view sells.
This volume, then, is a fitting look back to Ladner and his achievement. It shows
the respect scholars have for him, but this is no blind reverence. There is much to be
learned from Ladner, and these studies reform the way we look back at the medieval
world and show that our minds can and should be always open to further reforming:
reformata et semper reformanda.

State University of

THOMAS E. MORRISSEY

New York, Fredonia

Early Modern European

Rituals

of

Prosecution:

The

Roman

Inquisition

and

the

Prosecution

of

Philo-Protestants

Sixteenth-Century Italy. By Jane K. Wickersham. (Toronto: University of

in

Toronto

Press. 2012. Pp. viii, 430. $80.00. ISBN 978-1-4426-4500-4.)
As her title indicates, Jane Wickersham aims to show how the Roman Inquisition
assessed religious doctrines expressed in words and ritual practices in order to assemble proofs with which to prosecute philo-Protestants in sixteenth-century Italy. The
project begins with an analysis of several important inquisitorial manuals: those written by Nicolau Eymeric (1376; published in a version revised by Francisco Peña,
1578), Prospero Farinacci (1616), Eliseo Masini (1621), and Cesare Carena (1626).
Naturally, these authorities did not speak with a single voice. After having described
characteristic positions held by Italians adhering to the Reformation (improperly
termed “Protestant”—in fact, as Wickersham notes, their stances cannot be ascribed
directly to any of the evangelical and reformed churches of northern Europe, except
the Waldensians), the author examines various important issues related to the conduct
of an inquisitorial trial. These are accurately described: the importance of ritual practice (participation in heretical rites; nonparticipation in Catholic rites) in raising suspicion of heresy; the qualities rendering valid the testimony of witnesses (at least two
credible persons in agreement, to which the author should have added; and also firsthand observers of

the allegedly heretical words and/or actions); the Holy Office’s

motives for lenient treatment of

some accused persons (admitting error promptly;

789

BOOK REVIEWS

coming forward during a “time of grace”; showing total ignorance of theology), given
its main objective to convert heretics and punish only the impenitent; ways of obtaining a complete confession; the role of defense attorneys; the use of torture; types of
sentences (canonical purgation; condemnation for slight, vehement, or violent suspicion of heresy; formal heresy), to each of which corresponded a particular type of
required abjuration and assignment of spiritual penances.
Beginning in the third chapter, Wickersham compares prescriptive statements from
the manuals with a small selection of trial records: one from Siena, twelve others from
Modena and Venice, none from Rome. The fourteen sentences analyzed come from
the records in the library of

Trinity College Dublin, which holds, for the period

between 1564 and 1582, approximately 188 sentences promulgated in Rome and about
233 in peripheral seats of the Inquisition—a random remnant of the sentences issued
by all tribunals. Analysis of the trial records takes up only one-third of the book, an
indication that the author considers them of limited relevance. Given this slender documentary base, it is difficult to ascertain to what extent, if at all, inquisitorial practice
in these three tribunals conformed to the dictates of the manuals.
This reviewer also has doubts about how accurately the author represents the content of

trials. For example, her treatment of

the one of

Girolamo da Udine (pp.

211–21) diverges in important respects from the documentary record. Girolamo
abjured, so to speak, not on August 11, 1543, along with the others accused in the
same case, but on April 15, 1544, in the cathedral of Udine, boldly proclaiming some
ideas of the Reformation. He was condemned to death on May 2, 1544, seventeen
days later (rather than nine months later, as Wickersham claims). At that point he
appealed the sentence. The appeal phase took place in Venice, not in Udine, before a
three-judge panel nominated by the papal nuncio, Giovanni della Casa. It annulled the
capital sentence and required that Girolamo repeat his earlier abjuration of fourteen
articles, not two.
Wickersham

states

incorrectly

that

in

Venice

and

its

possessions

the

Roman

Inquisition, with the secular government’s approval, began to function in 1547 (pp.
113, 180, 211, 225, 269). Between 1541 and 1546, however, the Venetian Holy Office
tried thirty-nine people; the Council of Ten adjudicated twenty cases of heresy in various cities of the Venetian terraferma. Clearly, the Inquisition was officially operating in
the Republic seven years before the appointment of

the Tre Savi all’eresia. A final

observation—the sixteenth-century judges did not employ the definition of a “true
heretic” later articulated in the manuals (p. 239), and it would be interesting to understand why.

Università degli studi di Trieste

ANDREA DEL COL
(translated by Anne Jacobson Schutte)

790

BOOK REVIEWS

The

Jesuits

of

the

Low

Countries:

Identity

International Congress at the Faculty of

and

Impact

(1540–1773).

Proceedings

of

the

Theology and Religious Studies, KU Leuven (3–5

December 2009). Edited by Rob Faesen and Leo Kenis. (Walpole, MA: Peeters. 2012.
Pp. x, 295. €65,00 paperback. ISBN 978-90-429-2698-1.)

In keeping with the last decade’s surge in interest in the Catholic experience in the
early-modern Low Countries, scholars and archivists of early-modern Netherlandish
Jesuitica gathered in Leuven in 2009 for a colloquium on the state of the research field.
This

resulting

conference

volume

comprises

twelve

articles

on

various

historical

topics, ranging from spirituality to education to mission, and six articles on the state
of archival holdings for the various Jesuit provinces in the Low Countries. As such,
the volume is a useful snapshot of current research into the preoccupations—educational, intellectual, and missionary—of the Society of Jesus in this region (the present-day Benelux) between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries.

The essays in this volume attest to both the diversity and the energy of Jesuit activities in the Low Countries in the period; yet they also underscore the fundamental unifying goal behind of

all these efforts—namely, the advancement of

the Catholic

Church in Netherlandish society. We learn, for example, how much effort the fathers
invested in developing a legal framework for Catholic spirituality, thereby producing
an impressive array of judicial literature during the period. Likewise, Belgian Jesuits
developed theories of

statecraft and politics that were designed to promote the

restoration of Catholic piety and devotion to the reconquered Spanish Netherlands.
Even as esoteric a discipline as mathematics was exploited by Jesuit scholars to
advance Catholic military success. To foster greater devotion, Jesuits functioned also
as active champions of the visual arts and the printing press. Jesuit missional efforts
were no less impressive—Netherlandish missionaries negotiated the complicated confessional landscape of the religiously pluriform Dutch Republic and the formidable
intellectual culture of Ming and Qing China with similar adeptness.

And yet, the same problem dogged the Jesuits here as elsewhere in Europe–their
complicated and often tetchy relationship with their non-Jesuit confreres. Thus we
find that one of the chief obstacles to Jesuit missionary activity in the Dutch Republic
was not the Protestant authorities but the competition with the secular priests working there as well. Likewise for two decades the Jesuit College lived in uneasy and quarrelsome proximity to the theology faculty at the University of Leuven. One peculiarly
Netherlandish manifestation of early-modern Catholic theology, Jansenism, drew the
considerable enmity of

the Jesuit establishment. An essay on the Jesuit polemicist

Cornelius Hazart demonstrates just how strenuously the Society reacted against what
it saw as a crypto-Calvinist heresy insinuating itself into orthodox Catholic doctrine.

In

general

the

volume

coheres

well,

although,

alas,

it

suffers

from

a

lacuna

common to such collections—the lack of an introductory essay by the editors that
weaves together common themes in a collection of otherwise diverse subjects. There
are a couple of brief introductory remarks, but no effort to assess the overall state of
the field based on the rich essays presented here. For the reader’s sake, some sort of

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BOOK REVIEWS

general remarks about where research is and where it might go would have been helpful. Nevertheless, students of all sorts of historical specialties— intellectual, religious,
cultural—will find much to interest them in this conference volume.
CHRISTINE KOOI

Louisiana State University

Predicazione e Inquisizione nell’Italia del Cinquecento: Ippolito Chizzola tra eresia e controversia
antiprotestante. By Giorgio Caravale. [Studi fonti documenti di storia e letterature
religiosa.] (Bologna: Società editrice il Mulino. 2012. Pp. 306. €23,00 paperback.
ISBN 978-88-15-24103-0.)
Ippolito Chizzola (1521–65) got his hands dirty in the religious and political turmoil of sixteenth-century Italy. Chizzola was a minor figure in the broad circle of elite
religious reformers and political manipulators in Rome and northern Italy in the postTridentine period. His success as a renowned preacher and writer came only after
accusations of heterodoxy, an Inquisition trial, and an apparently heartfelt recantation.
Chizzola’s careers as a close associate of well-known religious doubters, as an enthusiastic anti-Protestant polemicist, and later as a spy and factotum for Duke Cosimo I
Medici bring us close to his powerful contemporaries and show us the inner workings
of

sixteenth-century institutions. Giorgio Caravale, in this thorough and informed

report, has given Chizzola his first in-depth study.
Chizzola spent his youth in the monastery of San Salvatore in Sant’Afra in Brescia,
where he grew close to his older confrere, Celso Martinengo (later a Protestant supporter); they were both influenced by Peter Martyr Vermigli. Caravale convincingly
shows, in the first three chapters, how interest in heterodoxy was a natural aspect of
conversation and study in Chizzola’s intellectual circles in Brescia and its environs. He
traces the rhetorical techniques of

dissimulation that characterized a network of

Protestant sympathizers and inspired inquisitors to insist on ever more explicit declarations of orthodoxy.
The middle section of the book examines the documentation for Chizzola’s heresy
trial.

His

views

on

confession

veered

dangerously

close

to

those

of

Desiderius

Erasmus. Chizzola, like Erasmus, emphasized the need for internal readiness before
confession, and relied on evasion and ambiguity, as had many other intellectuals in Italy
distantly inspired by Martin Luther. The trial took place during the very months when
the Tridentine decree on confession was being elaborated, after which point preachers
were ordered to preach explicitly anti-Protestant doctrine. Whereas some of his companions chose heresy and exile, Chizzola, to their surprise, undertook a radical aboutface, devoting the rest of his life to vehement anti-Protestant preaching and writing.
The final chapters of the book examine Chizzola’s activities after the trial, when
he became an informer for Cosimo I in Rome under Pope Pius IV through various
struggles between the papacy and the College of

Cardinals, and through Cosimo’s

attempts in the early 1560s to influence the outcome of
Roman Emperor.

the election of

the Holy

792

BOOK REVIEWS

Caravale has reconstructed Chizzola’s trial in its entirety, allowing us to see his
intellectual and political evolution. Caravale’s ability to situate Chizzola’s trial within
broader Tridentine concerns and the growth of the Inquisition is very valuable. He has
also

helpfully

included,

in

two

appendices,

the

documents

relating

to

Chizzola’s

Inquisition trial and fifty-four unedited letters sent or received by Chizzola, primarily
between himself and Cosimo I or Ercole Gonzaga. These appendices constitute about
40 percent of

the book and will be useful for the growing number of

Inquisition

scholars and for those studying the Medici political sphere.
The book’s strict focus on Chizzola’s trial and his later political activities has left
some issues unaddressed. Caravale devotes relatively little attention to the text and
content of Chizzola’s written work. Chizzola’s sermons and treatises raise important
questions about shifting definitions of orthodoxy within Catholicism. Although a historian and not a literary scholar, Caravale might have paid some attention to Chizzola’s
use of the vernacular and its implications for the religious significance of the laity;
these were urgent concerns in Chizzola’s circles. A review of previous scholarship and
a

complete

bibliography

of

Chizzola’s

work

would

also

have

been

helpful.

But

Caravale’s meticulous scholarship and prodigious archival discoveries have paved the
way for other scholars to pursue these themes.

University of

EMILY MICHELSON

St. Andrews, Scotland

Nuntiaturberichte

aus

Deutschland

nebst

ergänzenden

Aktenstücken.

Dritte

Abteilung,

1572–1585. 10. Band: Nuntiaturen des Orazio Malaspina und des Ottavio Santacroce.
Interim des Cesare dell’Arena (1578–1581). Edited by Alexander Koller. (Berlin: Walter
de Gruyter. 2012. Pp. lxxxviii, 671. $196.00 paperback. ISBN 978-3-11-028710-3.)
This latest volume of the series Nuntiaturberichte aus Deutschland is most welcome.
Edited by Alexander Koller, the acting director of the German Historical Institute in
Rome, it maintains the high standards of this series so important for our understanding of the Catholic Reform in Germany and beyond. The volume contains the correspondence of Cardinal Tolomeo Gallio, who was responsible for the foreign affairs of
the Holy See under Pope Gregory XIII (1572–85), with two nuncios at the court of
Emperor Rudolf II in Prague, Orazio Malaspina, who served from August 29, 1578,
until July 4, 1581 (not to be confused with his distant relative, Germanico Malaspina,
who served as the first nuncio in Graz starting in 1580 and later in Prague from 1584
to 85), and Ottavio Santacroce, who succeeded Malaspina and died in office on
September 3, 1581, as well as of Cesare dell’Arena, secretary at the nuntiature, who
carried on the correspondence until the arrival of the new nuncio, Giovanni Bonomi,
in mid-December.
Nearly all the documents are found in the Vatican Archives. Altogether there are
147 reports from Malaspina, twenty-four from Santacroce, twelve from Dell’Arena,
and three from Campizio Cornuagli (another secretary), as well as 160 instructions
from Gallio. The nuncios sent their dispatches regularly each week to Rome. The texts
of all the documents are in Italian and published in full apart from the formal greet-

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BOOK REVIEWS

ings and conclusions. Each document is broken down into numbered paragraphs and
is preceded by a summary in German that points to the content of each paragraph.
This system facilitates a scan of the volume when one is looking for a particular topic.
Koller provides a clear, extensive introduction to the documents including sharp
sketches of the principal figures involved and an outline of papal policies. No serious
differences clouded the relationship between the pope and the emperor during the
period of Malapina’s nuntiature. He replaced Bartolomeo Portia, who had died after
only several months as nuncio at the imperial court in Prague. The Vatican found itself
without

a

well-prepared

replacement

and

may

have

turned

to

the

inexperienced

Malaspina because of his origins near the territory of Borgo Val di Taro not far from
Parma. Conflicting feudal claims of the emperor and the pope was a topic frequently
addressed in the documents. Little is known of

the life of

Malaspina before his

appointment except that he was a priest of the Diocese of Luni-Sarzana and an apostolic protonotary. His inexperience showed, according to Koller, in hesitation to act
without clear direction from Rome and in his inadequate reports, for example, on the
projected electoral convention of

Nuremberg that never did take place. Emperor

Rudolf was ill for much of the second half of Malaspina’s nuntiature, and the nuncio
commented regularly on the state of

Rudolf ’s health. He also regularly informed

Gallio about the efforts to dissuade the pious Empress Maria, Rudolf ’s mother, from
returning to Spain. The pope saw in her a powerful force to bolster Rudolf ’s commitment to the Catholic cause in the Empire, and Rudolf himself seems to have wanted
her to remain in Prague. But after many delays, she departed for Madrid in late August
1581. The pope also sought to restore the University of Prague as a Catholic institution. These and many other topics come up for treatment in the correspondence.
Shortly after his return to Rome, Malaspina was dispatched as an extraordinary nuncio
to Paris with the task of preventing war between France and Spain. There he died on
January 27, 1582.
In the notes and bibliography of this rich volume one can find many leads to primary and secondary sources regarding the papacy and the Empire.
ROBERT BIRELEY, S.J.

Loyola University Chicago

Le Ministère des prêtres et des pasteurs: Histoire d’une controverse entre catholiques et réformés
français au début du XVII siècle. By Bruno Hübsch. [Chrétiens et Société, Documents
e

et Mémoires, No. 11.] (Lyon: Université Jean Moulin-Lyon III. 2010. Pp. 251.
€22,00 paperback. ISBN 978-2-85-317-122-9.)
Doctoral theses rarely have an afterlife. Most theses are read only by a handful of
researchers unless they are published by a major academic press, often after substantial revisions. Bruno Hübsch’s thesis has curiously found its way into print some fortyfour years after his dissertation defense in 1965.
Hübsch’s thesis, Le Ministère des prêtres et des pasteurs. Histoire d’une controverse entre
catholiques et réformés français au début du XVII siècle, offers an analysis of theological cone

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BOOK REVIEWS

troversies between Catholic and Calvinist clergy in early-seventeenth-century France.
Hübsch’s research focused on numerous works of religious polemic written soon after
the promulgation of the Edict of Nantes in 1598. The study examines the writings of
Catholic clergy such as Jacques Davy du Perron and Pierre de Bérulle, as well as those
of

Huguenot ministers such as Pierre du Moulin and Moïse Amyraut. Texts by

polemicists such as Philippe du Plessis-Mornay are also considered.

Theological conferences were popular events in early-seventeenth-century France,
often prompting the publication of voluminous polemical literature surrounding the
religious controversies. The famous theological conference at Fontainebleau between
Jacques Davy du Perron and Phillippe du Plessis-Mornay in 1600 was hosted by Henri
IV and attended by members of his royal court. Du Perron and Plessis-Mornay published arguments and rebuttals for some time after their verbal debates.

Catholics and Calvinists debated the theology of the ministry, disputing the concepts of the Eucharist and the Church as they related to the clerical vocation, the pastoral mission, and the practice of preaching. At stake for Catholics was the office of
the priesthood and their conception of the Roman, Apostolic, and Universal Church.
Calvinists, meanwhile, defended their Christocentric notion of the Church as a body
of the elect, inspired by pastors who acted as spiritual guides preaching the pure Word
of God. Clergy in both confessions viewed their opponents as heretics, but defined
their theological positions more clearly through the participation in controversies and
debates.

Hübsch adopted an ecumenical approach to theological controversy in a period in
which confessional approaches dominated religious history. Despite the numerous
bitter controversies between Calvinist and Catholic clergy in the early-seventeenth
century, Hübsch discovered continuities and shared concepts of vocation and apostolic authority. However novel for its time, Hübsch’s research has naturally been superseded by a number of other historical works published since 1965—many of which
are cited in a supplemental bibliography provided in this edition. The book thus is
rather dated and will probably have only a limited audience among historians of early
modern Europe.

Nonetheless, Le Ministère des prêtres et des pasteurs should interest historians and theologians who study the history of

modern Catholicism and French religion in the

1960s. Hübsch wrote his thesis soon after the Second Vatican Council, which promoted ecumenical activities; and a member of the Taizé interfaith community sat on
his dissertation committee. Hübsch went on to publish an article in a Taizé review, several translations of

theological texts, and a book on Christianity in Madagascar.

Hübsch’s thesis concluded with the optimistic notion that modern Catholics and
Reformed Christians alike could learn from reflecting on the theological controversies
of the early-seventeenth century.

Northern Illinois University

BRIAN SANDBERG

795

BOOK REVIEWS

Forced

Baptisms:

Histories

of

Jews,

Christians,

and

Converts

in

Papal

Rome.

By

Marina

Caffiero. Translated by Lydia G. Cochrane. [S. Mark Taper Foundation Imprint in
Jewish Studies.] (Berkeley: University of California Press. 2012. Pp. x, 317. $63.00.
ISBN 978-0-520-25451-0.)

When Marina Caffiero wrote this book under the title Battesimi forzati (Rome, 2004),
she met with well-deserved acclaim in both popular and scholarly media. She provided
a

fine

contribution

to

early-modern

cultural,

religious,

and

legal

history

in

Italy.

Drawing upon largely unexplored sources, she painted a picture of baptisms, conversions, “offerings,” marriages, and pregnancies among Jews in the Christian world of
papal Rome in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The book is now, fortunately,
available in an excellent translation. Caffiero expanded here on a thesis she argued in
an earlier article: that in this era one can locate steps toward antisemitism, and other
forms of intransigent ideology found in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Along
the way she illustrated, with sensitivity and evenhandedness, some of

the rich com-

plexities surrounding the interaction of early-modern Jews and Christians in Rome.

Caffiero demolished the assumption, reinforced by the image of ghetto walls, that
Jews and Christians in papal Rome lived in separate communities devoid of interaction. She identified opposition to, and persecution of Jews in that context, but also
insisted that the victims were not passive before such provocation, and neither did
they lack other, conflict-free contact with Christians, for they were active participants
in urban life. She challenged presumptions about “two souls” (p. 8) in contemporary
Catholicism, a papal soul more tolerant toward the Jewish population, and a popular
one that was decidedly intolerant. Instead, she considered the eighteenth century an
age of

widespread intransigence and as a decisive turning point—especially under

Pope Benedict XIV—toward political antisemitism. Caffiero argued this while identifying Jewish petitions and protests against unreasonable clerical behavior that could be
quite effective. She identified Jewish manipulation of systems that in theory oppressed
them, as vehicles for settling conflicts in their own community. She traced, through
case studies, the extraordinarily complicated—and semi-inquisitorial—practices of the
“offering” of Jewish relatives by neophyte Christians as candidates for conversion, and
of “denunciation,” again by neophyte Christians, of expressions of desire to convert
by their Jewish relatives. She traced clerical reasoning supporting both sides of the dispute over the right of pregnant Jewish women to determine whether or not their newborns would be baptized.

Surely, some will find this excellent book uncomfortable. Caffiero argued, after all,
for demolishing standard views of

characters like Benedict XIV and Clement XIV,

especially their reputation as forward thinkers and supporters of the Jewish community. Others may be troubled reading about shifting positions among ecclesiastical
authorities on the employment of Roman/Christian law—or of Judaic law—depending not upon logic or right, but upon service of church interests. Caffiero identified
early-modern departure from St. Thomas Aquinas’s ideas about fetal animation, and
toward definition of

the beginning of

soul-infused life at conception, a departure

hotly contested by some ecclesiastics. But in the end, Caffiero’s corrections and reve-

796

BOOK REVIEWS

lations, properly understood, simply steer us in the right direction: toward finding
complexity in this era, rather than unsustainable caricatures.
Caffiero did not provide a conclusion to the book. This is unfortunate, for we
cannot jump to her ultimate goal concerning ideology in the nineteenth and twentieth
centuries without many presumptions. She seemed uninterested in systematically identifying the variety—and possible origins—of theoretical motivations behind restrictive
policies and behind frequently contradictory action in legal practice. There was indeed
anti-Judaic sentiment in ecclesiastical writers, not to mention language challenging
what we might consider the reasonable rights of mothers and of those contracting
marriage. But there was denigration of all “infidels,” not just Jews. There were, apparently, medieval notions of truth, knowledge, and faith—and about what their effect
on reasonable people should be—lurking in sentiments expressed by solicitors consulted on the cases she examined. They surely exhibited inconsistent respect for
human free will, but also inconsistent militancy promoting the Roman version of
Christianity. Despite this absence, the case studies and bold argument presented richly
deserve the wide readership promised by this welcome translation.
WILLIAM V. HUDON

Bloomsburg University

Sacred Music as Public Image for Holy Roman Emperor Ferdinand III: Representing the CounterReformation Monarch at the End of

the Thirty Years’ War. By Andrew H. Weaver.

[Catholic Christendom, 1300–1700.] (Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing. 2012.
Pp. xxi, 325. $104.95. ISBN 978-1-4094-2119-1.)
In this new book Andrew Weaver draws our attention to one of the more neglected protagonists in early-modern history, the Holy Roman Emperor Ferdinand III
(r. 1637–57), whose reign, coinciding with the final phases of the Thirty Years’ War,
was marked by numerous military setbacks for the empire and ultimately by the compromises of the Peace of Westphalia (1648). This is less a political history, though,
than a focused study of princely representation through the medium of music and
sound, which Ferdinand deployed carefully to express and shape his public image in
the face of changing circumstances. In a sense the book represents a reclamation project not only for the cultural legacy of

Ferdinand himself

but also for his principal

court composer, Giovanni Felice Sances (c. 1600–79), whose extant sacred music—
scored mainly for small vocal forces with instrumental accompaniment—is skillfully
read here as a mirror of Ferdinand’s power and piety.
The obscurity of

Ferdinand relative to his imperial predecessors and successors

justifies the first part of Weaver’s book, which explains how visual, aural, and literary
media reflected a strategic shift in Ferdinand’s representation, from the pious military
victor of the 1630s to the comforting, protective father of his subjects during the difficult final years of the war. Crucial to his image was not only the recent Habsburg
legacy

of

Counter-Reformation

and

recatholicization

Austriaca looms large) but also his role as a patron of

(here

the

so-called

Pietas

the arts; indeed, his musical

chapel was among the most lavish and modern in Europe. In part 2 of

his book

797

BOOK REVIEWS

Weaver turns to the varied contexts in which music communicated the emperor’s
image, ranging from opera to Jesuit drama and the Catholic liturgy. Although relatively
little extant music can be connected with these occasions, Weaver does provide a kaleidoscopic impression of the range of sounds that helped to convey an image of the
emperor to local audiences. Some of this music, certainly, trickled down into the prints
of Sances, whose paratexts and contents clearly link them with an imperial program.
It is the music of Sances that forms the core of Weaver’s part 3, which is particularly
impressive for its sensitive and detailed analyses of specific compositions. We find that
the motet, with its flexible choice of texts, was the primary vehicle for Ferdinand’s
musical representation; whereas the motets of

Sances’s 1638 print present an opti-

mistic vision of the emperor as a warlike King David, those of the composer’s 1642
collection (published during a time of political and military reversals) project an imperial image of devout yearning, supplication, and even a Solomonic judiciousness that
also informed other visual and literary works during Ferdinand’s late reign. Not surprisingly, Weaver turns in his final chapters to musical aspects of the Pietas Austriaca,
embodied by conspicuous devotion to the Eucharist, an intense personal devotion to
the suffering Christ on the Cross, and the Virgin of

the Immaculate Conception,

whose cult became a crucial aspect of public Habsburg identity after the departure of
Swedish armies and the erection of a great Marian column in Vienna in 1647. Here,
too, Weaver shows the sensitivity of Sances’s musical responses, which extend even to
the symbolism of the Immaculata through subtle harmonic shifts.
Although the book could benefit from more discussion of

how “monarchical”

representation differed fundamentally from “princely” or “absolutist” representation
more broadly, and very occasionally risks overinterpretation in its musical analyses,
Weaver has provided a sensitive and textured account of how music and sound constructed an imperial image to be consumed at home and abroad, one that shifted dramatically in response to unexpected political winds. As such, it will encourage musicologists and historians alike to revisit the cultural products of absolutist courts and
to attune their eyes and ears to the subtle links between art and representation.

University of

British Columbia School of

ALEXANDER J. FISHER

Music

Late Modern European

The Heart of

Russia: Trinity-Sergius, Monasticism, and Society after 1825. By Scott M.

Kenworthy. (Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson Center Press; New York: Oxford
University Press. 2010. Pp. xviii, 528. $74.00. ISBN 978-0-19-973613-3.)

The Heart of

Russia is a thorough study of

nineteenth-century expansion of

books and documents related to the

activity at Trinity-Sergius, the celebrated monastic

complex located approximately fifty miles north-north east of Moscow. The author
has collected fact and opinion found in archives, published primary sources, and secondary works to describe the monastery’s remarkable revival, as well as its importance
in the general revival of

religious searching that unfolded in the Russian Empire

during its final century. His narrative includes biographical sketches of Trinity-Sergius’

798

BOOK REVIEWS

most energetic priors, relates in considerable detail the many construction projects
that increased the size and scope of operations supervised at the monastery, and displays records of the monastery’s income and expenses. The author discards nothing
for the sake of brevity, so all readers interested in monasticism will find something for
them in the book. He describes the monastery’s publications, giving account of activities associated with pilgrimages, church rituals and hermitage routines, almshouses,
miraculous healings, and the schools that eventually grew up in and about the compound

surrounding

the

monastery.

Records

of

the

negotiations

carried

on

by

monastery elders with both imperial officials and the Synodal hierarchy will be of particular interest to students of church-state relations.
A few sections of the book temporarily shelve its major focus on the activity at
Trinity-Sergius, and the most important of these tangential asides considers a social
analysis of postulants entering monastic life throughout Russia. The author appends
tables of statistics compiled by the Church that lists the original place of residence,
former status held in civilian or clerical life, and reasons why the Holy Synod rejected
many aspirants who were judged inadequate for the rigors of monastic routine. The
conclusion reached by the author after examining these columns of numbers shows
the largest percentage of
regions of

applicants deriving from lower-class families and from

Great Russia rather than Ukraine and White Russia. The author under-

stands this phenomenon as a consequence of the freedom granted to a pious agrarian
population by the Act of Emancipation enacted in 1861. The heavy concentration of
former Russian serfs and artisans taking up an austere life, however, was also influenced by cultural trends not analyzed by the author. The prevalence of Catholic and
Protestant traditions (later joined by strong secular trends), for example, discouraged
the empire’s educated elite from entering the cloister. They also dampened the interest of

peoples in the Russian-administered provinces of

the old Polish-Lithuanian

Commonwealth, where West European ecclesiastical traditions promoted a utilitarian
monasticism over “the purification of one’s heart with continual prayer” (p. 228).
The author also looks at the critics of Orthodoxy’s revival in Russia and particularly at the unfavorable opinion directed at Trinity-Sergius. He points to detractors
concerned about slack discipline among some monks or appalled by the low educational level of clergymen, bereft of learning after almost two centuries of the imperial government’s supervision of church affairs. The book also discusses less empathetic writers who eagerly exploited every opportunity to advance the standards of a
strictly secular society. After 1917, antimonastic and anti-Orthodox criticism took the
form of

a bitterly hostile Bolshevik assault on religion (the supreme expression of

twentieth-century secularism), but the first shock came with the Revolution of 1905.
As the author explains, the faithful and the clergy were now faced with a surge of
opinion

that

challenged

the

cherished

ideals

and

practices

of

Orthodoxy,

while

defenses erected to protect the Church and monasteries merely inflamed the opposition. Compromise was out of the question. The revival of religious devotion—especially the ancient disciplines of humility and silence practiced by monks and revered
by generations of pilgrims—was too powerful a rebuff to the extreme rationalism and
distracting clamor of modern life. The Bolshevik regime closed Trinity-Sergius and

799

BOOK REVIEWS

launched a vicious persecution of monks. The author holds out hope for the regeneration of both Trinity-Sergius and Orthodoxy in Russia since the restrictions of the
communist period were lifted c. 1991.

University of

JOHN D. BASIL

South Carolina

The Belligerent Prelate: An Alliance between Archbishop Daniel Mannix and Eamon de Valera.
By Patrick Mannix. (Newcastle Upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. 2012.
Pp. xviii, 209. $59.99. ISBN 978-1-443-834995.)
There have been at least five biographies and several published articles on the life
and legacy of Archbishop Daniel Mannix of Melbourne. None of the biographies,
other than Colm Kiernan’s 1984 book, contains any detailed consideration of

the

decades-long relationship between Mannix and Irish politician Eamon de Valera. Nor
is it the focus of

any of

the journal articles, with the exception of

Joe Broderick’s

short but informative essay in a 1994 issue of History Ireland. That article is widely cited
in this book, and it may also have been the inspiration for Patrick Mannix’s more
ample account of his namesake’s interaction with de Valera.
The author does concede from the outset that if de Valera has been better served
by history than Mannix, the archbishop has no one to blame but himself. De Valera
took pains to ensure that records of his own life and political activities were preserved
for posterity. Mannix, in contrast, deliberately destroyed virtually all of his personal
papers shortly before his death. Patrick Mannix explains how the archbishop’s long
and active work on behalf of Irish nationalism was encumbered by a temperament
that often made him either obtuse about Irish political realities or averse to them in a
way that came with a personal cost.
Relations between Mannix and de Valera began as early as 1912 when Mannix, as
president of Maynooth College, invited de Valera to apply for a part-time lectureship
in mathematics. That option closed when Mannix was suddenly dispatched to become
coadjutor to the then unwell and aging Thomas Carr, archbishop of

Melbourne.

Approximately fifty years later, de Valera, now president of the Republic of Ireland,
sought to have Mannix admitted to the College of Cardinals in 1961. That, too, was not
to be, and Mannix died two years later at the age of ninety-nine. Their remarkable association was perhaps strongest between the years 1920 and 1925, whereupon it lapsed
into only occasional contact as both distance and differing priorities took their toll.
Patrick Mannix retells the familiar story of the archbishop’s controversial 1920 visit
to the United States—a stop before his visit to Pope Benedict XV in Rome. But the
book’s special value lies in its portrayal of how de Valera took advice from Mannix on
such questions as the oath on entering the Dail, the new Irish Constitution, and
numerous other issues. Especially instructive is the author’s portrayal of how Mannix
ignored de Valera’s pleas to be less aggressive toward the Irish hierarchy in 1925 and
again in the 1930s, when de Valera needed the support of the bishops, and Mannix
carried an unforgiving remembrance of their part in his exile to Australia.

800

BOOK REVIEWS

Daniel Mannix was born in Charleville, County Cork, in 1864, and Eamon de
Valera in New York City in 1882. But the latter was sent to Ireland at the age of three
to be raised by a grandmother, aunt, and uncle in Bruree, County Limerick. Although
they were eighteen years apart, both shared the same rural country life in homes that
were less than a half

dozen miles from one another and later studied under the

Christian Brothers at Fermoy. There, the ethos of

that educational training during

formative years nurtured the steadfast discipline and principled beliefs that became
hallmarks of their respective public lives.
Although this attractively produced book would have profited from a publisher’s
copyeditor to catch a few spelling errors, as well as footnote titles that do not appear
in the bibliography, it is all the same a welcome contribution to the ever-expanding
published scholarship on selected features of Irish nationalism.

Boston College

THOMAS E. HACHEY

Père Marie-Benoît and Jewish Rescue: How a French Priest Together with Jewish Friends Saved
Thousands during the Holocaust. By Susan Zuccotti. (Bloomington: Indiana University
Press. 2013. Pp. xv, 276. $35.00 clothbound, ISBN 978-0-253-00853-4; $16.49
ebook, ISBN 978-1253-00866-4.)
Susan Zuccotti’s book brings to our attention the life, work, and times of a credible believer—a Good Samaritan in an age when being such could result in a one-way
passage to a death camp. She presents, with careful documentation of primary materials, the work of Père Marie-Benoît (born Pierre Pèteul, 1895–1990), the Capuchin
priest credited with saving at least 2500 Jews between 1940 and 1945.
Zuccotti concisely establishes context for the priest’s wartime work by taking us
from his humble origins in Le Bourg d’Iré (near Angers), his excellent education in
Capuchin seminaries, and his service as a medic in World War I (receiving three citations for bravery) to his teaching assignments in France and Italy. After recounting his
rescue work, the author summarizes his postwar life filled with writing, promoting
Christian-Jewish friendship, and visiting the Jews he saved (his “protégés”).
What did he do to earn him the French Legion of Merit and a tree planted in the
Alley of the Righteous at Yad Vashem in Jerusalem? Simply and extraordinarily this:
from 1940 to 1945 he actively, and at great risk of losing his freedom or his life (a warrant was issued for his arrest), helped to hide Jews from their would-be exterminators.
He provided false documents to disguise their Jewish identity, found shelters for them
to live in Catholic institutions, supplied funding for travel and sustenance, and pointed
them to escape routes into Spain and Switzerland. He did this salvific work without
proselytizing or expecting conversion to Catholicism (although a handful did so).
The author makes clear that Benoît did not work alone. He received help from
leaders of

the Jewish communities in which he lived, most notably Joseph Bass

(Marseille), Angelo Donati (Nice), and Stefan Schwamm (Rome). He was assisted by
the Sisters of Notre Dame de Sion, a congregation established in 1843 specifically to

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BOOK REVIEWS

pray

for

the

conversion

of

the

Jews.

Every

day,

Italians—police,

bureaucrats,

Protestant ministers, and diplomats—helped him get around fascist and SS agents.
If this work were exclusively a biography of an individual, it would not satisfy, and
that is because a primary document on which she relies for knowledge of the priest’s
activities—his own meticulous daybook—records most of what he did, but nothing
of how he felt about what he did. Zuccotti too often repeats a mantra at key moments
in the story: “Unfortunately we do not know what he thought” (p. 25), “His own
thoughts are impossible to decipher” (p. 213), or “He remained an intensely private
man” (p. 225).
Fortunately, this is more than a biography of a man; it is a narrative of an era and
instructive about many things: the Vatican’s relationship with Hitler (and the Jews)
during the war; the Church’s official “anti-Judaism” (distinguished, they claimed, from
antisemitism) prior to the Second Vatican Council; the everyday heroics of

Jewish

rescue in Europe; the origins of Catholic-Jewish dialogue; and the role of German
Catholic prelates and clergy in helping Nazis escape capture and flee to safe territory
after the war.
Zuccotti is dispassionate toward, but not blind to, the lack of effort put forth by
Pope Pius XII and the Vatican in aiding the rescuers. She argues that the official
Vatican report on the war years (written by Pius XII’s personal secretary) takes more
credit for helping Jews than it deserved.
Marymount California University

KENNETH J. ZANCA

Contesting the Moral High Ground: Popular Moralists in Mid-Twentieth Century Britain. By
Paul T. Phillips. [McGill-Queen’s Studies in the History of Religion, ser. 2, no. 62.]
Ithaca, NY: McGill-Queen’s University Press. 2013. Pp. xvi, 227. $100.00 clothbound, ISBN 978-0-7735-4111-5; $32.95 paperback, ISBN 978-0-7735-4112-2.)
Start with a good idea; think about how to organize your diffuse material; write
briskly, objectively, with an eye for the telling detail. Paul Phillips has followed this
recipe and produced a fascinating book. Phillips’s good idea is to examine shifts in
public morality in mid-twentieth century Britain, particularly during the decade sometimes called “the long 60s.” This challenging topic could easily get out of control, but
the author’s organizational plan precludes that.
Phillip’s opening chapter (“The Setting”) is a model of organization and academic
concision. He examines the declining influence of

Christianity,

the fracturing of

denominations, the pervasive impact of science—or, more accurately, “scientism”—
that habit of mind that presupposes that only that which is empirically verifiable can
be true, and the effect of

World War II on growing British secularism. All this is

accomplished in a chapter of thirty-seven pages. This chapter alone makes Phillips’s
book important.
In the next four chapters, Phillips shifts his focus and examines the contribution
made by four British intellectuals whose writings helped to shape debate on public

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BOOK REVIEWS

morality: Julian Huxley, Bertrand Russell, Malcolm Muggeridge, and Barbara Ward.
More than just potted biographies, Phillips analyzes how these complex figures related
to their time and, to some extent, to each other.

Scientist Huxley (1887–1975) advocated a new Christianity, one stripped of revelation
and subordinate to science, which Huxley called “evolutionary humanism.” This would
be achieved, he suggested, by a threefold methodology: accepting agnosticism, promoting natural science, and entrusting the future to the expanding field of psychology.

Mathematician

and

philosopher

Russell

(1872–1970)

regarded

Christianity—

indeed, all religion—as antiquated superstition, damaging alike to the individual who
held religious beliefs and to the community. Religion, he considered, fostered fear and
dependency; he once wrote, “… religion is a disease born of

fear and a source of

untold misery to the human race” (p. 83). Russell’s lifelong campaign against nuclear
weapons and his vocal opposition to the war in Vietnam, may have had a slight influence on Christian debates about just-war theory and pacifism, but otherwise his influence on Christianity was negligible (befitting, perhaps, an author whose most popular
book was Why I Am Not a Christian [New York, 1957]).
Barbara Ward (1914–81), the daughter of a Quaker solicitor, was educated in convent schools and then, in 1932, went up to Somerville College, Oxford. She became a
journalist, writing frequently from Europe (where she advocated European Union
decades before it came to pass) and was prescient about the looming danger posed by
Nazi Germany. When war broke out, she insisted publicly that the Western allies fight
not only against Nazism but for something. What? Unfortunately, Ward’s main (perhaps
only) answer was a kind of insipid socialism that for the rest of her life she promoted
under the banner “social justice.” When the Catholic Church did not move fast
enough on social justice issues, she wrote to her parents: “I dislike Catholics and I do
think the Church vile, humanly speaking, and it does very little for England” (p. 134).
Ward was a frequent panelist on the BBC Brains Trust television program where she
clashed with another panelist, Muggeridge, who treated her views with thinly-veiled
contempt.
Muggeridge (1903–90) is the most complex and elusive of

Phillips’s subjects.

Author, playwright, teacher, and master communicator, he defies standard categorization. Still, Phillips’s analysis of Muggeridge is insightful, particularly the parallels he
draws between the twentieth-century Catholic convert Muggeridge and the nineteenth-century convert John Henry Newman.
Given the stark differences among the four public intellectuals here profiled, it is
a daunting task to draw any coherent conclusion, and it may be that Phillips (whose
last chapter is titled: “Conclusion and Legacy”) does not altogether succeed; however,
the careful reader will concur with this statement: “Collectively, these four figures constituted important border markers in defining the parameters and architecture of
public discourse about the application of
mid-twentieth century onward” (p. 157).

moral philosophy to public life from the

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BOOK REVIEWS

This book is a credit to the author and to McGill-Queen’s University Press; it is
another landmark in its fine History of Religion series.
IAN HUNTER

Western University (Emeritus)
London, Ontario, Canada

Ierotopi Cristiani alla luce della riforma liturgica del Concilio Vaticano II. Dettami di Conferenze
Episcopali nazionali per la progettazione di luoghi liturgici. Prime indagini. By Tiziano
Ghirelli. (Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana. 2012. Pp. xxiii, 833. €110,00.
ISBN 978-88-209-8713-8.)
The Second Vatican Council occasioned profound changes in the Roman Catholic
liturgy, which has resulted in significant alterations in liturgical spaces throughout the
world. This volume considers a significant number of these experiences and the problems of the reconfiguration of church interiors in the fifty years since the Council.
The questions posed by liturgical changes and their expression in specific sacred
spaces (ierotopi) is faced here with information, sensitivity, and intelligence.
The text begins with a substantial and very useful historical introduction (about
100 pages) on the church building and its decoration from the origins of Christianity
up to the 1963 decrees of the Second Vatican Council. Those who study the history
of Christian architecture can profit from this information, as it helps scholars to think
about these buildings beyond their formal and technological histories and consider
their concrete functions and uses by celebrants and congregations over the centuries.
A chapter follows that explains the indications and instructions of the Council with
respect to liturgy and its spaces, based on the analysis of the Council documents. The
third chapter is an analysis of

episcopal documents from 1964 (France) to 2006

(England and Wales). Six of these documents are reproduced in an appendix at the
end of

the volume. These have their origins in the bishops’ conferences of

Spain,

Germany, Ireland, Canada, the United States, and England and Wales. Furthermore,
this third chapter also includes an extensive discussion of Italian episcopal documents
directed at artists, architects, and liturgists after the Council. The idea is to provide the
necessary premises for an understanding of the last chapters, which are case studies.
Indeed, chapters 4 to 7 discuss specific questions and particular situations. Chapter
4 is about the spaces of liturgy and the sacraments according to the Council. It has
the tone of a well-stated “wish list”—that is, what is expected and would be the ideal
toward which reform should tend. The fifth chapter presents a series of Italian case
studies of architectural arrangements and changes after the Council. The places studied are all cathedrals, which have, of course, received the most attention by the hierarchy and clergy intent on following the Council’s directives about liturgical reform.
The buildings are the cathedrals of Milan, Trapani, Padua, Pisa, and Termoli. In each
instance, the history of the building and its particular problems are summarized, and
the changes are explained and assessed. In all cases, very useful illustrations and plans
are provided. Chapter 6 is devoted to the cathedral of
most

familiar

to

the

author

and

one

in

which

he

Reggio Emilia, the building

participated

in

reform

work.

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BOOK REVIEWS

Throughout the entire discussion of these alterations and their processes, Ghirelli puts
forward the need for modern artistic expressions of great quality for the adequate celebration of the liturgy in the Western tradition.
The author has made a formidable effort in this volume at gathering together
information about decisions made, and some of the discussions and problems that
have accompanied them. The list of

official church documents about the Council

reforms and how to carry them out, the ample bibliography, the documents in the
appendix, and the outstanding and generously ample selection of historical and new
photographs and plans are meant for liturgists, artists, and architects, but the collection of

these materials—and the author’s commentaries and considerations—make

for fascinating reading by historians as well. The book will be of special use as guidance for the changes being carried out in historically important buildings throughout
the Catholic world.
CLARA BARGELLINI

Instituto de Investigaciones Estéticas
Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México

American
Sarah Osborn’s World: The Rise of Evangelical Christianity in Early America. By Catherine A.
Brekus. (New Haven: Yale University Press. 2012. Pp. xvi, 432. $35.00. ISBN 9780-300-18832-5.)
Sarah Osborn was a woman of limited education, frail health, and precarious status
who, like other evangelical Christians of her day, stole moments from toils of everyday life to reflect on God’s purposes in herself and the world. Yet for all her ordinariness, Catherine Brekus’s sensitive portrait of this colonial Rhode Islander will change
the

way

historians

understand

the

rise

of

evangelicalism

in

eighteenth-century

America. Drawing from an exceptional trove of diaries and letters, Brekus shows how
the emotionalism, Providentialism, and individualism of

Osborn’s faith echoed the

empiricism, humanitarianism, and rationality of the Enlightenment. The result is not
only a captivating, fully-dimensioned female figure to cast alongside Jonathan Edwards
and George Whitfield but also a window into what evangelical Christianity meant to
ordinary

people

swept

up

in

the

currents

of

merchant

capitalism,

technological

change, the consumer revolution, and expanding freedom.
Osborn believed that God’s purposes in human suffering, although mysterious,
always furthered human happiness; she knew that humans were sinful by nature, but
that the message of divine grace could radically transform individuals; and despite the
terror posed by eternal damnation, she was confident that the lowliest sinners could
find peace in a salvation made known by their emotions. This evangelical faith,
Breckus shows, diverged from that of the Puritans in its softened doctrines of conversion and free will, its missionary orientation, and its optimistic striving for thisworldly improvement. She argues that these innovations reflected a receptive, albeit
guarded posture toward Enlightenment notions of empiricism, progress, self-determination, and humanitarianism.

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This

interpretation

raises

important

questions

about

the

diffusion

of

Enlightenment ideas. Breckus’s deft handling of Osborn’s writings makes clear that
she trusted in personal experience and was dedicated to transforming herself

and

others. The author also shows the Enlightenment’s religious impact in notions of free
will, empiricism, and benevolence among educated clergymen. Yet more provocatively,
Breckus puts Osborn at the center of these theological developments, inferring that
Enlightenment ideas filtered down to ordinary congregants through sermons, books,
and everyday conversation. Breckus’s thorough contextualization and dissection of
Osborn’s writings, however, do not dispel the possibility that some of her religious
beliefs owed less to the Enlightenment than to a separate, bottom-up response to
rising merchant capitalism, changing patterns of consumption, and expanding freedoms—the very contexts Breckus so carefully elucidates. Perhaps it is more accurate
to say that evangelicalism and the Enlightenment were running on parallel tracks, both
propelled by the forces of modernity.
Yet if the main argument of Sarah Osbor n’s World lacks a smoking gun, the book
is no less insightful for its pairing of

evangelicalism and the Enlightenment. By

privileging experience over received wisdom, both movements unwittingly enabled
women and other marginalized people to claim authority. Osborn’s life mapped
the outer boundaries of that egalitarian impulse. Just as she was careful to couch
her growing ministry within the bounds of feminine humility and domesticity, she
was also reluctant to free her own slave, a fellow Christian (although she eventually did). Brekus shows how the leveling and humanitarian aspects of early evangelicalism, as with the Enlightenment, were often thwarted by social and ideological constraints.
Brekus

manages

to

convey

the

historical

scope

of

evangelicalism,

the

Enlightenment, and changing economic and political circumstances through the life of
a relatively unremarkable woman at the edge of the western world. To Osborn, the
vast tides of history were dwarfed by personal successes and struggles that she understood in divinely dramatic terms. Yet those struggles, and how she made sense of
them, reflected her changing world. After this book, it is historians of American religion who must grapple with the meaning of Osborn’s life.

University of

LAURA PORTER

Notre Dame

Paris, France

Incompatible with God’s Design: A History of

the Women’s Ordination Movement in the U.S.

Roman Catholic Church. By Mary Jeremy Daigler. (Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, an
imprint of Rowman and Littlefield Publishing. 2012. Pp. xiii, 201, $75.00. ISBN
978-0-8108-8480-9.)
This book is not an exploration of the theological, canonical, and social issues surrounding the question of

ordaining women to Roman Catholic ministry. If

this

reviewer reads the author correctly, it appears that the ordination of women in the
Catholic Church is, for her, a settled issue, a current reality waiting to reach full bloom,

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BOOK REVIEWS

and a matter of justice. These are all givens in the book. What the reader will find is
exactly what the author describes in the title: a history of

the women’s ordination

movement in the United States.

Given those parameters, a few issues need to be raised with the work. First, the
author seems to be at her weakest when trying to “connect the dots” in order to
carry the women’s ordination movement back through the centuries to the ancient
Church. Based primarily on one archaeological work about Mediterranean frescos,
she

accepts

that

women

were

ordained

to

Catholic

ministry

throughout

the

Mediterranean world up to the ninth century (pp. 134, 187). In trying to weave a
broad tapestry of cultural acceptance for women’s spiritual leadership, Mary Jeremy
Daigler may have painted with too broad a brush. A lot of interesting movements
and

individuals—Salem

witches,

the

Great

Awakening,

Anne

Hutchinson,

the

Quakers, the Iroquois, St. Joan of Arc and St. Thérèse of Lisieux—all seem to be
co-opted onto the women’s ordination movement. There are factual errors. Her
statement that

[i]n 1704 the public practice of Catholicism [in America] was banned, churches were
locked, priests dispersed and Catholic families began to rely on their women as spiritual guides, prayer leaders, and organizers of the very rare services of underground
priests,

is not backed up by any sources and is misleading on several fronts (pp. 4–5). She has
the Ursulines arriving “in the colonies” tangential to the Great Awakening, although
it was French Louisiana, not the English colonies, that welcomed the sisters in 1727
(p. 5). She describes Pope Leo XIII’s encyclical, Rerum Novarum, appearing in 1891 “at
a time when papal encyclicals were rare” (p. 10), even though there were, in fact, 127
papal encyclicals in the nineteenth century, with five in 1891 alone. In a discussion of
a controversy in St. Louis between Cardinal Raymond Burke and Sister Louise Lears,
S.C., Daigler describes the Supreme Tribunal of

the Apostolic Signatura, as “the

Vatican’s department that oversees the nominations and appointments of men to be
bishops” (p. 76), inaccurately assigning to the Signatura the competency that belongs
to the Congregation for Bishops.
All that being said, Daigler has still provided a genuine service for historians, because
in this work she pulls together and preserves for the future a great many American initiatives and individuals in the area of women’s ordination. Individuals working alone, and
small organizations with a brief lifespan and no identifiable headquarters or archives, are
the bane of the historian’s craft. Although she does not allude to it in the book, Daigler’s
own immersion in the women’s ordination movement in the United States over the past
quarter-century has given her a unique knowledge of the players and how they are connected, as well as a perspective on “who influenced whom,” that helps to piece together
the broader story. When this reviewer was writing a diocesan history spanning 250 years,
the early-twentieth century was the hardest period to research. It was maddening to see
how quickly the material just beyond living memory was slipping away. It is likely that
many of the individuals mentioned in Daigler’s work would have similarly slipped away

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BOOK REVIEWS

except for their inclusion in this book. Daigler has done her fellow historians a genuine
service and will be broadly consulted in the future.
RAYMOND J. KUPKE

Immaculate Conception Seminary
Seton Hall University

Southern Crucifix, Southern Cross: Catholic-Protestant Relations in the Old South. By Andrew
H. M. Stern. [Religion and American Culture.] (Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama
Press. 2012. Pp. xii, 265. $39.95. ISBN 978-0-8173-1774-4 [clothbound]; ISBN
978-0-8173-8629-0 [ebook].)
Msgr. John Tracy Ellis as professor of American Catholic history at The Catholic
University of America annually reminded his students of the opinion of Arthur Meier
Schlesinger that one abiding and operative characteristic of American Protestantism
was opposition to Roman Catholicism. Andrew H. M. Stern in Southern Crucifix,
Southern Cross: Catholic-Protestant Relations in the Old South offers a “reassessment” for the
antebellum years. Careful research and an easy narrative style address Protestant support to help provide such essentials as churches, schools, and hospitals—support that
was consistent to the period under study with little suspected but widely found reality.
Stern offers the following summary of attitudes toward Catholics in the South before
the Civil War:
… Elsewhere in America, in contrast, attitudes towards Catholics hardened as immigration spiked. Some southerners were also antagonistic, but overall Protestant generosity counterbalanced—and even surpassed—the hostility. This striking amicableness
had multiple sources. It emerged, in part, because of Catholics’ loyalty as southerners,
especially their support for slavery. But other factors reinforced Protestant openness.
Civic pride prompted some to contribute to Catholic institutions. Curiosity led others
to admire Catholic worship. Similarities between Catholic and southern culture also
improved relations. The reasons were complex, but they led to a remarkable outcome:
tolerance

and

cooperation,

more

than

violence

and

animosity,

marked

Catholic-

Protestant relations in the antebellum South. (p. 2)

In the first four chapters Stern validates this outcome under four headings: Living
Together, Healing Together, Educating Together, and Worshipping Together. First
contacts by missionaries, bishops and priests, and faithful laity found a hospitable welcome and generally a respectful hearing. Material support followed early organizational
efforts. Friendship among leaders and individuals, civic and economic improvement,
and curiosity and social compatibility contributed to positive relationships.
Catholics proved to be pioneers in founding hospitals, orphanages, and schools
throughout the antebellum South. The region was subject to epidemics of yellow fever
periodically

and

other

diseases

to

which

Catholic

personnel—especially

religious

women and men—responded courageously, often at the expense of their lives. The
South lagged behind the nation in providing public education, and the Catholic
Church offered some of

the earliest efforts extending even to the collegiate level.

Most were for tuition, although free students were accepted wherever possible; many

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BOOK REVIEWS

of the paying students came from Protestant families. In Charleston and Mobile, brief
efforts were made to offer primary education to free children of color.
The fourth chapter, “Worshipping Together,” should not be construed as blurring
formal boundaries between Protestant and Catholic worship. The author consciously
describes a living out of Catholic life and practice in the words of Stephen T. Badin,
a priest in Kentucky: “We march in procession around our cemeteries; we erect crosses
on them; we preach in the hotels and other public places, and even in Protestant
churches,

for

want

of

chapels”

(p.

132).

The

chapter

is

summarized

concisely:

“Protestants helped Catholicism make a home in the South” (p. 144).
The final chapter, “Ruling Together,” might have been more aptly named, since
Catholics in the antebellum period did not exist in numbers sufficient “to rule.” The
material presents a succinct history and analysis of slavery in the South. Despite isolated instances of

Catholic antislavery sentiment, evaluation is neither unjust nor

unfair: “In time, southern Catholics not only reconciled themselves to slavery but
championed it” (p. 178).
In preparing a doctoral dissertation on Michael Portier (vicar apostolic of Alabama
and the Floridas and later bishop of Mobile) for the same period, this reviewer in the
early 1960s discovered a similar surprising harmony and support among the various
religions

and

faith

persuasions.

The

present

work

enhances

the

picture

that

has

emerged from the antebellum period for a much wider scope. Despite some minor
factual errors of

little consequence, the result sheds needed light on the past and

offers welcome hope for the future.
Archbishop Emeritus of

The

Church-State

MOST REVEREND OSCAR H. LIPSCOMB

Mobile

Debate.

Religion,

Education

and

the

Establishment

Clause

in

Post-War

America. By Emma Long. (New York: Continuum. 2012. Pp. viii, 279. $120.00.
ISBN 978-1-4411-3446-2.)
The Church-State Debate has two purposes: first, to look at the role of the Supreme
Court in major church-state issues after World War II and second, to analyze the
court’s decisions through the lens of educational jurisprudence. To accomplish this
task, the author used a research design that categorized rulings in terms of strict separation, neutrality, and accommodation. Where that did not suffice to explain the
evolving and often inconsistent rationale of the court on educational decisions, she
included political science approaches as well. Therefore, she also used legal interpretations based on constitutional principles, attitudinal measurements that identified
judicial blocs among the justices, and empirical data to explain the pragmatism of the
decisions of the postwar Supreme Court in America.
After all is said and done, Emma Long emerges as the synthesizer-in-chief of the
historical, legal, and political reasons as to why jurisprudence on church-state education matters developed as they did over the past fifty years. Indeed, she says: “The job
of the historian … is not that of a lawyer, and thus the context remains important”

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BOOK REVIEWS

(p. 205). Certainly, this is what sets her well-researched and coherent work apart from
others in the same area.
Three main aspects of

church-state debate were explored in this book: govern-

ment aid to students in nonpublic schools, the issue of school prayer, and the problem of equality of access to government benefits. The book took a comprehensive
view of the debate over public aid to students in parochial, private, and public schools
starting with Everson v. U. S. Board of Education and explaining the evolution of educational jurisprudence based on child-benefit theory. With regard to school prayer, Long
discussed the significance of major decisions starting with Engle v. Vitale and Abington
v. Schempp, clarifying for the reader how religious forces were able to shift the focus of
concern from prayer in schools to the need to advance direct educational benefits to
students. The court also heard a number of major cases wthat challenged the right of
religious groups to have equal access to limited public forums. Long makes a difficult
situation easier to understand by explaining the nuances of

Lamb’s Chapel v. Center

Moriches Union Free School District and Rosenberger v. the Rector and Visitors of
of

the University

Virginia. In these cases the Supreme Court upheld the students’ rights to free

speech and equal access. She ends her book believing that, in its own way, the decision
of the court in Rosenberger was the end of a contentious era between church and state
over education in America.
This book, of necessity, had to limit the cases that could be presented in American
church-state relations. By focusing on education, The Church-State Debate is a significant
attempt to show the evolution of

such jurisprudence and to track the ideological

swings of the Supreme Court over the years. Although there is little here that is new,
its organization and dense historical, legal, and political approach makes sense out of
what can appear to be an inconsistent, rather than evolutionary, development of
public policy in America.
Perhaps Long will be able to look into other aspects of the church-state debate in
the future. In the meantime, this volume is highly recommended.
JO RENEE FORMICOLA

Seton Hall University

Catholics in the American Century: Recasting Narratives of
Appleby

and

Kathleen

Sprows

Cummings.

U.S. History. Edited by R. Scott

[Cushwa

Center

for

Studies

in

Catholicism in Twentieth-Century America, No. 7.] (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University
Press.

2012.

Pp.

v,

218.

$69.95

clothbound,

ISBN

978-0-8014-5140-9;

$21.95

paperback, ISBN 978-0-8014-7820-8.)
Back in the mid-1990s, the Cushwa Center for the Study of American Catholicism
inaugurated a collaborative research project on American Catholics in the twentieth
century. It had two principal goals, the first of which was to underwrite new research
on various aspects of Catholic life in the relatively recent past. Success on this front has
been impressive. The Cushwa project has to date resulted in at least ten monographs
on subjects ranging from devotional life to the Catholic role in urban politics, and has
helped to shape the research agenda of the rising scholarly generation. The project’s

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BOOK REVIEWS

second goal, which was the fuller integration of Catholics into the mainstream historical narrative of the American twentieth century, has by contrast been exceedingly slow
to bear fruit. Catholics qua Catholics are still conspicuously absent from most accounts
of the American past, whether we look to standard textbooks or to the scholarly monographs on which they are based. Even anti-Catholicism, perhaps the most powerful
shaper of all when it comes to American national identity, is increasingly downplayed
as other sources of social division have come to seem more important.
Catholics in the American Century, the most recent volume to appear in the Cushwa
twentieth-century series, addresses the problem of Catholic omission head-on. Five of
its six essays are by prominent American historians who seek to reimagine their particular areas of

expertise once the Catholic presence is taken seriously. Lizabeth

Cohen, who, like her fellow essayists, confesses to past sins of omission in her own
work, provides a knowledgeable overview of political history, broadly defined, since
the reign of consensus scholarship in the 1950s. She then turns to her current research
on the urban renewal crusades of the 1950s and 1960s, where Catholics have emerged
as major players. Exploring the Catholic world of

1950s Boston, Cohen came to

appreciate its transnational complexities; Catholic responses to urban renewal, she discovered, were shaped not just by developments at the local Chancery and in the
parishes but also by developments in Rome. Historians of Catholicism, she has come
to see, are well positioned to write history that is simultaneously transnational and
attentive to local particulars—to function, in short, as models for the historical profession as a whole.
Cohen’s essay is followed by equally thoughtful analyses of

the 1960s (Thomas

Sugrue), the historiography of

gender and sexuality (R. Marie Griffith), and recent

developments

of

in

the

subfield

Chicano/Mexicano

history

(David

Gutierrez).

Sugrue, who rightly notes that few accounts of the turbulent 1960s make more than
passing reference to religion, states a powerful case for incorporating Catholics into
the political history of the decades since 1945, in which context the 1960s are best
understood. Griffith points out that Catholics are largely missing from historical narratives of gender and sexuality in the United States, save for recurrent appearances as
militant opponents of reform, and suggests some fruitful ways to open up the standard narrative. Gutierrez, too, comments on Catholic absence—rather surprisingly,
given his subject—by explaining the origins of his subfield in the Chicano liberation
movement of the late 1960s and 1970s. Avowedly secularist scholars in more recent
decades, he notes, have begun to appreciate the need to take religion and spiritual practices seriously in order to understand the experience of

the poor and unlettered.

Wilfrid McClay closes the volume with a nuanced analysis of “The Catholic Moment
in American Social Thought,” which, despite its focus on recent decades, ranges
knowledgeably over the full course of American intellectual history.
In closing, a brief

mention of

the Robert Orsi essay that precedes those just

described is appropriate. Orsi, widely known for his creative work on Catholic devotionalism, complicates the image of the Catholic past by speaking to its radical otherness. “The specific practices of

the Catholic faith were alien and out of

place in

811

BOOK REVIEWS

American culture,” he writes (p. 15). Even assimilated Catholics, then, “have and have
not been like their fellow citizens…” (p. 42). Orsi’s argument is too complex for summary in this limited space. Suffice it to say that every historian with an interest in
American Catholicism should read and ponder it.

The Catholic University of

LESLIE WOODCOCK TENTLER

America

Far Eastern

Ecclesiastical Colony: China’s Catholic Church and the French Religious Protectorate. By Ernest
P. Young. (New York: Oxford University Press. 2013. Pp. xii, 383. $74.00. ISBN
978-0-19-992462-2.)
This is a sad and frustrating story of how the political and economic interests of
European colonialism retarded and corrupted the development of

Catholicism in

China. It is a story tainted by the belief in European superiority and Chinese inferiority. However, it has a happy ending due mainly to the remarkable leadership of
Chinese Catholics like Ying Lianzhi (1867–1926), radically pro-Chinese missionaries
like Vincent Lebbe (1877–1940), and reform-minded popes like Benedict XV (r.
1914–22) and Pius XI (r. 1922–39).
Ernest P. Young has made a thorough study of

numerous French and Chinese

documents related to the French Religious Protectorate. He describes how this institution had no clear basis in either law or formal delegation of power from China or
the papacy, but was “extrapolated” (p. 255) from the Sino-Western unequal treaties by
French diplomacy and military power. It was strengthened by the frequent requests for
assistance from different nationalities of Catholic missionaries. Its continued existence
depended on perpetuating the organizational weakness of
China and preventing the creation of

the Catholic mission in

an indigenous (Chinese) clergy. Most non-

French Catholic missionaries in China, given the greater power of France to represent
them with the Chinese government, preferred to hold French passports.
It began with the Sino-French Treaty signed at Huangpu (Whampoa) in 1844 that
gave the French rights in the five treaty ports. If the missionaries proceeded beyond
the five treaty ports and were arrested in the Chinese interior, they were to be sent
unharmed to the French consul in the nearest treaty port. In this way, limits were
placed upon the Chinese officials to control the missionaries. Article 13 of the SinoFrench

Treaty

negotiated

at

Tianjin

Christianity and assured the right of
enter into the interior of

in

1858

re-established

the

toleration

of

missionaries with special French passports to

China (pp. 28–29). Article 6 of

the Beijing Convention

(1860) established property rights for the French in the interior of China, even though
differences in the Chinese and French versions of the treaty gave rise to disputes over
its exact meaning (pp. 30–33).
Although the French Protectorate established by these treaties did not contain an
explicitly religious dimension, the French would intervene in decisions about missionary

812

BOOK REVIEWS

personnel appointed in China, creating a barrier to direct relations between the Vatican
and Beijing. Ironically the anticlerical governments of nineteenth-century France generated remarkably enthusiastic Catholic missionaries in China. French wealth and personnel came to dominate the China mission such that by the time of the Sino-French War
(1884–85), more than 70 percent of the Catholic missionaries in China were French. In
1886 when Li Hongzhang, the leading figure in foreign affairs, and Pope Leo XIII (r.
1878–1903) had tried to bypass the French Religious Protectorate to establish direct relations, they were defeated by French interests, creating for the pope the “greatest disappointment of his pontificate” (pp. 57–59). It was not until the erosion of European
colonialist power in World War I and the rise of Chinese nationalism that the papacy was
able finally to overcome French resistance to papal leadership of the Catholic Church in
China and the protectorate came to an end. The watershed event was the consecration
of six Chinese bishops by Pius XI in Rome in 1926.
The deficiencies of this book are few and minor. Young’s treatment of the important Chapdelaine incident (1856), which contributed to France’s role in the Second
Opium War (p. 27–28), is incomplete and uninformed. His portrayal of the pioneering Bishop Johann Baptist Anzer, S.V.D. (1851–1903), as a drunk who fell off

his

horse and had to sleep off his drunkenness by the side of the road (pp. 65–68) is more
of a caricature than serious history. Young’s claim that Ma Xiangbo “reconciled with
the Jesuits, though remaining a layman” (p. 195) seems to contradict what is known of
Ma’s re-embrace of his religious vows. Finally, the book lacks a single map to orient
the reader to the many geographical sites discussed.
D. E. MUNGELLO

Baylor University

African

Faith in Empire: Religion, Politics, and Colonial Rule in French Senegal, 1880–1940. By
Elizabeth A. Foster. (Stanford: Stanford University Press. 2013. Pp. xvi, 270.
$60.00. ISBN 978-0-8047-8380-4.)
Scholarship on the French colonial empire has grown in the last twenty years from
a cottage industry of a few researchers to a major field of inquiry across the academy.
Until recently, much of the work on French rule in Africa has focused on the major
institutional and political actors involved such as administrators, government officials
and ministries in France, organized political movements in the colonies, and the
actions of emergent social groups such as workers and the educated elite. However,
new studies have pointed to the subtle but significant role that religious communities
and organizations played in structuring the colonial experience in French-ruled Africa.
Elizabeth Foster’s engaging study, Faith in Empire: Religion, Politics, and Colonial Rule in
French Senegal, 1880–1940, fits within this new line of inquiry while offering interpretations of the colonial experience that go beyond the analysis of religion and empire.
Faith in Empire concentrates on Catholic missionaries in the French colony of
Senegal from the era of

the imperial conquest to France’s defeat in World War II.

813

BOOK REVIEWS

During that period French administrators and religious missionaries both struggled to
define their mission in the region as well as their relationship with each other. Foster
takes us through several critical encounters among missionaries, administrators, and
African indigenous populations wherein the “Catholic civilizing mission” was clarified
and transformed. Moreover, Foster also highlights the conflicts that emerged within
missionary organizations between those in Senegal and their leadership based in
France. Such an approach reveals a much more complicated and rich history of
Catholic missionaries in the French colonial experience in West Africa. The Catholic
missionaries developed a distinct colonial mission that was offered as either an alternative to the official French civilizing mission or as the authentic embodiment of
France’s purpose in the region. Foster’s study demonstrates that the missionaries were
not explicitly or exclusively handmaidens to empire, nor were they benevolent forces
working to protect Africans from the worst vicissitudes of imperial practice.
Perhaps Faith in Empire’s most interesting analytical contribution is in its interpretation of the political dynamic on the ground as more akin to feudal relations than the
modern bureaucratic state practices often presented as the mode of rule of the colonial state. Foster sees patron-client relations and shifting alliances in the competition for
control over souls, resources, or political influence in very local contexts as the primary
forces structuring patterns of governance in colonial Senegal. It is, Foster suggests, that
pattern of power relations that thwarted the more statist and centralized political strategies pursued by colonial administrators and Catholic missionaries alike. That also
allowed local African actors to influence colonial practice and missionary activities in
Senegal from the 1880s to the 1930s. Unfortunately, this promising line of argument
trails off a bit as the book moves later in the story. In the last couple of chapters there
is little discussion of this analytic frame, and most of the action has become centered
on the encounters between missionaries and agents of the colonial state.
Overall, Foster’s study is an important and welcome addition to the scholarship of
French colonialism and Senegalese history. It offers a new analytical framework as well
as a unique window into the colonial experience. Although more attention to the
African angle of the triangular engagement among indigenous peoples, colonial rulers,
and Catholic missionaries would have enriched the study further, it nonetheless stands
as a well-grounded, clearly written, and engaging work of French colonial history.

Ohio State University–Marion

JAMES E. GENOVA

NOTES AND COMMENTS
Association News
The 94th Annual Meeting of the American Catholic Historical Association will be
held

in

Washington,

DC,

on

January

2–5,

2014.

For

more

information,

visit

http://www.achahistory.org.

Fellowships
The Newberry Library of Chicago has announced the deadlines for application for
its fellowships in the humanities. Long-term fellowships (from four to twelve months)
with a stipend of $4200 have an application deadline of December 1, 2013; short-term
fellowships (generally for a single month) with a stipend of $2000 to $2500 have an
application deadline of

January 15, 2014. For more information, visit http://www

.newberry.org/fellowships.
The National Endowment for the Humanities has announced the awarding of two
grants for translation projects: to Thomas Williams of the University of South Florida
for an English translation of Blessed John Duns Scotus’s ethical writings and to Beth
Mortensen of the Aquinas Institute for the Study of Sacred Doctrine for a translation
and annotation of St. Thomas Aquinas’s Book IV of the Commentary on the Sentences
of Peter Lombard.

Lectures and Conferences
On November 28–29, 2013, a conference will be held in Bologna and Modena on
“Legge e natura: I dibatti teologici, giuridici e scientifici fra XV e XVII secolo.” For
more information, contact saccenti@fscire.it.
On December 4–6, 2013, the conference “The Council of
Controversy
University

in

of

Europe

Leuven.

and
For

Beyond

more

(1545–1700)”

information,

visit

will

be

Trent: Reform and

held

at

the

Catholic

https://theo.kuleuven.be/en/

research_units/ru_church/council_of_trent, or email trent@theol.kuleuven.be.
On December 11–13, 2013, a conference on Constantine the Great will be held at
the

University

of

Oxford.

Alberto

Melloni

will

speak

on

“The

Constantinian

Encyclopaedia,” Davide Dainese on “Synods and Political Power,” Riccardo Saccenti
on “Constantine in Question: The Construction of the Ideal Figure of the Emperor
in the Beginning of the XIV Cenury, and Frederick Lauritzen on “Constantine in the
Imperial Panegyrics of Michael Psellos.”
On March 7–8, 2014, the conference “Dorothy Day: A Saint for Our Time” will
be held at St. Thomas University in Miami, Florida. Those interested in participating
in this event should contact Francis J. Sicius, Department of

814

History, St. Thomas

815

NOTES AND COMMENTS

University, 16401 NW 37th Avenue, Miami Gardens, FL 33054, tel: (305) 628-6657,
email: fsicius@stu.edu.
On March 19–22, 2014, a colloquium will be held in Leuven, Belgium, on the topic
of

“University

Parishes

and

Student

Churches

in

Europe—Past

and

Present:

A

Historical and Comparative Survey.” Those who wish to present papers should contact the director of KADOC, Jan De Maeyer, at jan.demaeyer@kadoc.kuleuven.be.
On May 8–10, 2014, the XLII Incontro di Studiosi dell’Antichità Cristiana will sponsor the conference “Povertà e ricchezza nel cristianesimo antico (I–V secolo)” at the
Augustinianum in Rome. Those wishing to present a major paper (25 minutes) or brief
paper (15 minutes) should send the title and an abstract by November 30, 2013, to the
organizing committee at email: incontri@patristicum.org, or fax: +39-06-68006298.

Publications
An “Ostkirchenkundliches Symposion” on “Das Armenische Christentum” was
held on June 22, 2012, during the celebration of

the sixty-fifth anniversary of

the

founding of the Ostkirchliches Institut of the University of Würzburg. The papers
presented

on

Ostkirchliche

that

occasion

Studien:

have

Christian

now

been

Hannick,

published

“Einführung”

in

volume

(pp.

61

43–44);

(2012)

of

Heinzgerd

Brakmann, “Die Kirche der Armenier und die Allgemeine Kirche; Eine Skizze” (pp.
45–65); Theo Maarten van Lint, “Grigor Magistros Pahlawuni: Die armenische Kultur
aus der Sicht eines gelehrten Laien des 11. Jahrhunderts” (pp. 66–83); Hacik R. Gazer,
“Streifzüge

in

die

550-jährigen

Geschichte

des

armenischen

Patriarchats

von

Konstantinopel” (pp. 84–95); Mikàyēl Arak’elyan, “The Theme of Intercession in the
Iconographical Programme of Armenian Gospel Books of the 16th–18th Centuries”
(pp. 96–119); and Christian Hannick, “Die Erforschung der christlichen kaukasischen
Kulturen im Werk von Paruyr Muradyan” (pp. 120–46).
Four articles in issue 1 for 2013 (vol. 26) of Hobbes Studies deal with “Hobbes and
Theology.” Giovanni Fiaschi has contributed a foreword (pp. 1–5). The authors are
Jeffrey R. Collins, “Thomas Hobbes, Heresy, and the Theological Project of Leviathan”
(pp. 6–33); Giovanni Fiaschi, “The Power of Words: Political and Theological Science
in Thomas Hobbes” (pp. 34–64); Carlo Altini, “‘Kingdom of God’ and Potentia Dei: An
Interpretation of Divine Omnipotence in Hobbes’s Thought” (pp. 65–84); and Mauro
Farnesi Camellone, “Hobbes, Descartes and the Deus Deceptor” (pp. 85–102).
“Arnauld, Thomas d’Aquin et les thomistes” is the theme of a half-dozen articles
published in the issue for April–June 2013 (vol. 65) of

e

XVII

siècle. Following an

“Avant-propos” by Denis Moreau and Simon Icard (pp. 193–98) are “Scholastico more:
les premiers écrits thomistes d’Arnauld” by Jean-Robert Armogathe (pp. 199–208);
“Saint Thomas dans la Logique de Port-Royal” by Dominique Descotes (pp. 209–16);
“Des motifs thomistes dans les échanges entre Leibniz et Arnauld” by Arnauld
Pelletier (pp. 217–29); “Le molinisme congruiste face au thomisme jansénisant” by
Sylvio Hermann De Franceschi (pp. 231–47); “Arnauld et la foi implicite: un refuge
cartésien” by Paola Nicolas (pp. 249–63); and “Le compatibilisme thomiste d’Antoine
Arnauld” by Cyrille Michon (pp. 265–79).

816

NOTES AND COMMENTS

Part 2 of the “Papers from July 2012 Conference in Paris” on “Thomas More et
la Tyrannie à la Renaissance” occupies nearly 100 pages of Moreana for June 2013 (vol.
50): Eugenio M. Olivares Merino, “Thomas More and Charles V, Part I/II: Serenissimo
Castellae principe Carolo” (pp. 67–110); Isabelle Bore, “Writing under Tyranny: Tyranny
Put to the Test of Language in the Works of Thomas More and Thomas Elyot” (pp.
111–30); Jeffrey S. Lehman, “Seeing Tyranny in More’s History of King Richard III” (pp.
131–57);

Emily

A.

Ransom,

“Opposing

Tyranny

with

Style:

More,

Lucian,

and

Classical Rhetorical Theory” (pp. 159–86); Gabriela Schmidt, “What Use to Make of
a Tyrant?—Thomas More’s History of

Richard III and the Limits of

Early Tudor

Historiography” (pp. 187–218); and Mario Turchetti, “L’assassinat de Thomas More:
le tribunal d’une conscience annihilé par un tribunal tyrannique” (pp. 219–72).
A special issue of Early American Studies (vol. 11, no. 3 [fall 2013]) titled “Ireland,
America, and Mathew Carey” is composed of

the following articles: Cathy Matson

and James N. Green, “Introduction” (pp. 395–402); Maurice J. Bric, “Mathew Carey,
Ireland, and the ‘Empire for Liberty’ in America” (pp. 403–30); Stephen Meardon, “‘A
Reciprocity of Advantages’: Carey, Hamilton, and the American Protective Doctrine”
(pp.

431–54);

Cathy

Matson,

“Mathew

Carey’s

Learning

Experience:

Commerce,

Manufacturing, and the Panic of 1819” (pp. 455–85); Martin Öhman, “The Statistical
Turn in Early American Political Economy: Mathew Carey and the Authority of
Numbers” (pp. 486–515); Joseph M. Adelman, “Trans-Atlantic Migration and the
Printing Trade in Revolutionary America” (pp. 516–44); James N. Green, “‘I was
always dispos’d to be serviceable to you, tho’ it seems I was once unlucky’: Mathew
Carey’s Relationship with Benjamin Franklin” (pp. 545–56); Joseph Rezek, “Furious
Booksellers: The ‘American Copy’ of the Waverley Novels and the Language of the
Book Trade” (pp. 557–82); and Martin J. Burke, “Why Should We Listen to Mathew
Carey?” (pp. 583–89).
The sesquicentennial of the American Civil War is commemorated in the winter
2013 issue of U.S. Catholic Historian (vol. 31, no. 1) with the following articles: Patrick
W. Carey, “Orestes Brownson and the Civil War” (pp. 1–20); Barbara J. Howe and
Margaret A. Brennan, “The Sisters of St. Joseph in Wheeling, West Virginia, during
the

Civil

War”

(pp.

21–49);

Betty

Ann

McNeil,

D.C.,

“Daughters

of

Charity:

Courageous and Compassionate Civil War Nurses” (pp. 51–72); William B. Kurtz,
“‘The Perfect Model of a Christian Hero’: The Faith, Anti-Slaveryism, and Post-War
Legacy of William S. Rosecrans” (pp. 73–96); David J. Endres and Jerrold P. Twohig,
“‘With a Father’s Affection’: Chaplain William T. O’Higgins and the Tenth Ohio
Volunteer Infantry” (pp. 97–127); and Robert Emmett Curran, “The Irish and the
Lost Cause: Two Voices” (pp. 129–45).

P ersonal Notice
Monsignor Francis J. Weber, archivist emeritus of the Archdiocese of Los Angeles,
was presented with the Norman Forgue Award “in acknowledgment of his contribution to the world of

the Miniature Book” at the thirtieth annual meeting of

Miniature Book Society in Vancouver, British Columbia, on August 9, 2013.

the

NOTES AND COMMENTS

817

L etter to the Editor and Reply

In his review of my book, The Catholic Bishops of

Europe and the Nazi Persecutions of

Catholics and Jews (published ante, XCIX [2013], 578–79), Kevin P. Spicer was not only
unfair, but he has distorted what I had written by forgetting the basic principle that all
good historians must respect—that is, objective evidence is the fundamental criterion
of truth. That he falls short of this goal is evident in three examples.

First, Spicer claims in his review of my book that I hold that Dr. Jozef Tiso had
nothing to do with the antisemitic policy of Slovakia during World War II. What I was
doing in dealing with Tiso was pointing out that there are opposing interpretations
about him, a responsibility that all historians have in presenting the evidence. That
Spicer goes on to hold that my view is that of one of Tiso’s defenders is a false, distorted, and unfair allegation.

Second, those same characteristics are evident in Spicer’s scolding at me for failing
to use a secondary source that he finds relevant to my book. He does this by citing
James Mace Ward’s study of Tiso, Priest, Politician, Collaborator (Ithaca, NY, 2013). Since
my book was published in 2012, Spicer has demonstrated a lack of accuracy in criticizing me for failing to use a book that was not available when I was writing my book.
One could overlook this failure on Spicer’s part as exceptional, but the same lack of
accuracy is evident in his failure to give the correct page (he gives 119 as the page
instead of 120) to support his criticism of what I had to say about Tiso. If anyone has
demonstrated “contradictory and deceptive analysis” (p. 579) in his work, it is not
Lapomarda; it is Spicer himself.

Third, in the same review of my work, Spicer had nothing good to say about it.
Actually, he went out of his way to find faults with it by making statements that give
the impression that my study was all based on secondary sources and did not make use
of primary ones. This is totally inaccurate, since I had actually used the documents of
the Holy See at least a half

dozen times (one note covered four volumes of

that

source) and employed at least a dozen of other primary sources. That Spicer characterizes my study as “exceedingly superficial” (p. 578) and alleges that my extensive bibliographical essay ignores much of the relevant literature is a criticism without a solid
foundation in the facts. I wonder if he even noticed that I had cited at least two of his
works (pp. 261, 263) in that bibliography.

It is clear, then, that the vehemence of Spicer’s criticism of my study arises because
it constitutes a strong defense of the papacy of Pius XII and uproots the thesis of
Rolf Hochhuth about the alleged failure of that pope during the Holocaust or Shoah.
Since Spicer gave a similar thrashing in an issue of Commonweal (May 2012) to a work
by Justus George Lawler (Were the Popes against the Jews? Grand Rapids, MI, 2012), it can
be regarded as a badge of honor that I am in such good company for my own defense
of Pius XII. The intensity of Spicer’s attacks on those of us who do not hold his view
of Pius XII is reflective of reason being overwhelmed by emotion in Spicer’s evaluation of the historians with whom he disagrees. In his thrashing of those who have

818

NOTES AND COMMENTS

defended Pius XII, Spicer has unwittingly honored his opponents because our works
constitute strong reaffirmations of the latest scholarship on Pius XII who is finally
coming to be recognized, even to a certain extent by Yad Vashem, for all the good that
the pope did in helping the Jews during World War II. That Spicer engages in demeaning the scholarship of those with whom he disagrees is indicative of one who is not
so much interested in history as he is in the rhetoric of apologetics and polemics that
leads him to forget that accuracy is an essential hallmark of a professional historian.

College of

VINCENT A. LAPOMARDA, S. J.

the Holy Cross

Worcester, MA

Kevin P. Spicer, C.S.C., replies:
I stand by my original review in its entirety. Using the standards of the historical
method, especially for scholars who read The Catholic Historical Review, I could not be
clearer. In his reply, Father Vincent A. Lapomarda, S.J., states that he “had actually
used the documents of the Holy See at least a half dozen times (one note covered four
volumes of that source),” when in fact his book contains no citations—no “note” as
he claims. As stated in my review, Father Lapomarda did indeed employ a lengthy
“Bibliographical Essay” that includes books that I have written. Nevertheless, in doing
so, he failed to link this bibliographical review directly to the specific arguments that
he makes in the book’s narrative. By contrast, at several places in his book, Father
Lapomarda refers his readers to Wikipedia.

In my review, I offered numerous examples of the problems I found with Father
Lapomarda’s analysis. In his response, he centers on one critique—his evaluation of
Monsignor Jozef Tiso, the leader of the Slovakian government from 1938 to 1945—
and on the monsignor’s policy toward Slovakian Jews during the Holocaust. Readers
should note that he does not challenge any of my other criticisms. Father Lapomarda
begins his discussion of Monsignor Tiso on page 119 of his work, the page I cite.
Perhaps disconcerted by my reference to the 2013 study by James Mace Ward, Father
Lapomarda might instead wish to consult the study by our priestly brother, Father
John F. Morely, Vatican Diplomacy and the Jews during the Holocaust 1939–1943 (1980),
especially

pages

71–101,

to

learn

the

true

nature

of

Tiso’s

crimes

during

the

Holocaust.

In his reply, instead of addressing my other criticisms, Father Lapomarda proceeds
to attack me personally by attempting to focus on the controversy surrounding Pope
Pius XII and the Holocaust by referring to a recent review that I wrote for Commonweal
of

Justus George Lawler’s work, Were the Popes against the Jews? Tracking the Myths,

Confronting the Ideologues (2012). Father Lapomarda is correct in stating that I was quite
critical of Lawler’s work along with his own. The reason for this is that I found both
Lawler’s and Lapomarda’s books lacking scholarly rigor and analysis while still professing to practice both. I offered specific evidence of

their shortcomings, which

clearly neither author appreciated. Anyone who is acquainted with the field of

the

Catholic Church under National Socialism realizes that the area is rife with polemics.

819

NOTES AND COMMENTS

This

is

especially

true

when

authors

discuss

Pope

Pius

XII’s

actions

during

the

Holocaust. In my own work, I have endeavored to present a portrait of the Catholic
Church that archival documents reveal. Reviewers have found my studies balanced and
without polemics, including when I discuss historical issues relating to Pope Pius XII.
I invite readers to engage my books, Resisting the Third Reich: The Catholic Clergy in Hitler’s
Berlin

(DeKalb,

IL,

2004)

and

Hitler’s

Priests:

Catholic

Clergy

and

National

Socialism

(DeKalb, IL, 2008), and form their own opinions.

The central issue is that Father Lapomarda is unable to take fair, historically documented criticism. Instead, he has resorted to accusations that have no basis in reality.
My standard of judging might not be Father Lapomarda’s standard, but I did use it to
critique his work, not him. That he undervalued my standard is to be expected. The
strength of criticism, they say, lies in the weakness of the work criticized, and for that
weakness of scholarship Father Lapomarda has only himself to blame.

Stonehill College
Easton, MA

KEVIN P. SPICER, C.S.C.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE
General and Miscellaneous
e

Profezia

utopia

nella

storia

del

cristianesimo

occidentale.

Paolo

Prodi. Teologia,

XXXVIII (Mar., 2013), 6–25.
La storiografia sul Vaticano II. Prospettive di lettura e questioni di metodo. Saverio
Xeres. Teologia, XXXVIII (Mar., 2013), 59–84.
Sull’intuizione giovannea. Goffredo Zanchi. Teologia, XXXVIII (Mar., 2013), 85–96.
Il Card. Montini e il Concilio. Cronologia del primo period (I). Giselda Adornato.
Istituto Paolo VI, notiziario n. 65 (June, 2013), 60–75.
La conduzione conciliare di Paolo VI. Giselda Adornato. Teologia, XXXVIII (Mar.,
2013), 97–117.
La storia della Causa di Paolo VI. Antonio Marrazo. Istituto Paolo VI, notiziario n. 65
(June, 2013), 39–43.
Assisi 1986: un’esperienza di pace e di dialogo di pellegrini credenti. Tecle Vetrali. Studi
Ecumenici, XXX (Oct.–Dec., 2012), 515–28.
La renuncia de Benedicto XVI a la luz de la Historia. Fermín Labarga. Scripta Theologica,
45 (Aug., 2013), 477–88.
Christianity

and

the

Vicissitudes

of

European

Burgher

Cultures:

An

Anamnetic

Exercise. Govert Buijs. Religion, State and Society, 41 (2, 2013), 103–32.
The site of St Paul’s Shipwreck. The claims of Mljet, Lesbos, Crete, and Malta. Some
lost

medieval

traditions

and

their

political

implications.

Thomas

Freller.

Ostkirchliche Studien, 61 (1–2, 2012), 147–76.
The Shroud of

Turin: A Historiographical Approach. Tristan Casabianca. Heythrop

Journal, LIV (May, 2013), 414–23.
e

L’Inquisition d’Avignon du Moyen Âge à la fin du XVIII

siècle. Marc Venard. Revue

d’histoire de l’Église de France, 98 (Jan.–June, 2012), 25–66.
Le culte liturgique des Papes béatifiés, canonisés ou dont le culte a été confirmé de
1588 à 1878. Philippe Beitia. Ephemerides Liturgicae, CXXVII (Jan.–Mar., 2013),
3–59.
Über die Änderungen der Bistumsgrenzen der rumänisch-orthodoxen Metropolitanprovinzen

Siebenbürgens

und

des

Banats

(16.–21.

Jh.).

Paul

Brusanowski.

Ostkirchliche Studien, 61 (1–2, 2013), 210–44.
Die Vereinigung der franziskanischen Orden unter Papst Leo XIII. im Jahre 1897. Die
Unio

Leonina—eine

erfolgreiche

Fusion?

Weisheit, 76 (1, 2013), 60–75.

820

Gisela

Fleckenstein. Wissenschaft

und

821

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

The Catholic Church and the Movements: Revisiting the History of Catholic Social
Thought. Michael Schuck. Journal of

Catholic Social Thought, 10 (Summer, 2013),

241–57.
Stability and Adaptation: The History of

St Walburg Abbey in Eichstätt. Marianne

Burkhard, O.S.B. American Benedictine Review, 64 (June, 2013), 178–97.
Libros de Cuentas y documentos contables del Real Monasterio del Escorial. Benito
Mediavilla Martín, O.S.A. La Ciudad de Dios, CCXXVI (May–Aug., 2013), 453–70.
I

cappuccini

a

Rutigliano:

quattrocento

anni

di

storia

(1612–2012).

Vincenzo

Criscuolo. Collectanea franciscana, 83 (1–2, 2013), 151–80.
Zur Geschichte der Christlichen Archäologie in der Schweiz (2. Folge). Hans Rudolf
Sennhauser. Römische Quartalschrift, 107 (3–4, 2012), 163–201.
Geschichte der Christlichen Archäologie in Russland vom 18. bis ins 20. Jahrhundert
(3.

Folge).

Ljudmila

G.

Khrushkova.

Römische

Quartalschrift,

107

(3–4,

2012),

202–48.
Ancient
Des Kaisers Inszenierung. Mythologie und neronische Christenverfolgung. Tassilo
Schmitt. Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum, 16 (3, 2012), 487–515.
Fratres

et

inimici

christlicher

Cyprian

Christianorum.

Nächstenliebe

und

von

Karthago

kirchenpolitischer

im

Spannungsfeld

Feindschaft.

zwischen

Adrian

Brändli.

Museum Helveticum, 70 (June, 2013), 74–101.
Pour une histoire du christianisme dans le désert occidental d’Égypte. Victor Ghica.
Journal des Savants, (July–Dec., 2012), 189–280.
Textual

Disorder

in

the

Letters

of

St

Anthony:

An

Analysis

and

Partial

Reconstruction. Part I: Disorder in the Canon. Richard Shaw. Downside Review, 131
(Jan., 2013), 1–9.
Que savons-nous du Contre Por phyre d’Eusèbe? Sébastien Morlet. Revue des Études
Grecques, 125 (July–Dec., 2012), 473–514.
Augustine the Semi-Pelagian. Mowbray Allan. Augustiniana, 62 (3–4, 2012), 189–249.
Augustine’s

World and the

World of

Cyril of

Alexandria.

Robert

Louis

Wilken.

Augustinian Studies, 43 (1–2, 2012), 25–34.
What

Augustine

(May

Have)

Learned

from

the

Manichaeans.

Jason

BeDuhn.

Augustinian Studies, 43 (1–2, 2012), 35–48.
Family

and

Financial

Conflict

in

the

Donatist

Controversy:

Augustine’s

Pastoral

Problem. Maureen Tilley. Augustinian Studies, 43 (1–2, 2012), 49–64.
Un antichissimo cor pus di glosse alla Vulgata: san Girolamo o il suo primo recensore?
Giulia Ammannati. Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, ser. 5, 4 (1, 2012),
117–31.
L’epitaffio di santa Marcellina. Marco Petoletti. Aevum: Rassegna di Scienze Storiche
Linguistiche e Filologiche, LXXXVII (Jan.–Apr., 2013), 169–93.

822

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

La translation des reliques de saint Étienne le premier martyr. François Bovon and
Bertrand Bouvier. Analecta Bollandiana, 131 (June, 2013), 5–50.
Gildas and the “grievous divorce from the barbarians.” Michael Garcia. Early Medieval
Europe, 21 (Aug., 2013), 243–53.

Medieval
Origen, vías de penetración y expansión de cruces y cruceros en la Península Ibérica.
Marta Plaza Beltrán. Hispania Sacra, 65 (1, 2013), 7–28.
Bede’s Agenda in Book IV of the “Ecclesiastical History of the English People”: A
Tricky Matter of Advising the King. N. J. Higham. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 64
(July, 2013), 479–93.
Gargano Comes to Rome: Castel Sant’Angelo’s Historical Origins. Louis Shwartz.
Journal of

Ecclesiastical History, 64 (July, 2013), 453–75.

La prosopopée au service de la politique pontificale: Genèse et postérité de la lettre de
Saint Pierre aux Francs (Codex Carolinus, 10). François Bougard. Revue d’histoire de
l’Église de France, 98 (July–Dec., 2012), 249–84.
L’hagiographie latine de l’Ombrie méridionale: statistique linguistique et proximité
rédactionnelle. Caroline Philippart de Foy and Edoardo D’Angelo. Studi Medievali,
LIV (June, 2013), 1–61.
Stability and transformation in the cult of an early medieval saint: the case of Bishop
Folcuin of Thérouanne († 855). Steven Vanderputten and Tjamke Snijders. Studi
Medievali, LIV (June, 2013), 131–51.
St Fremund, Fact and Fiction. Wiesje Emons-Nijenhuis. Revue Bénédictine, 123 (June,
2013), 99–127.
The Christmas Eve Massacre, Iona, AD 986. Thomas Owen Clancy. Innes Review, 64
(May, 2013), 66–71.
Uno

“speculum

episcopi”

nel

manoscritto

Clm

6426.

Benedetta

Valtorta.

Studi

Medievali, LIV (June, 2013), 305–28.
La pieve del sagittario. Gnostici e astromanti a Roccaforte Mondovì. Ezio Albrile.
Antonianum, LXXXVIII (Jan.–Mar., 2013), 111–30.
Le culte de saint Maur martyr, de Reims à l’abbaye de Florennes. Daniel Misonne.
Revue Bénédictine, 123 (June, 2013), 65–97.
An Eleventh-Century Chronologer at Work: Marianus Scottus and the Quest for the
Missing Twenty-Two Years. C.P.E. Nothaft. Speculum, 88 (April, 2013), 457–82.
Female Monasticism, Ecclesiastical Reform, and Regional Politics: The Northern
Archdiocese of

Rheims, circa 1060–1120. Steven Vanderputten. French Historical

Studies, 36 (Summer, 2013), 363–83.
Monastic Reform and the Geography of Christendom: Experience, Observation, and
Influence. Andrew Jotischky. Transactions of
(2012), 57–74.

the Royal Historical Society, 6th ser., 22

823

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

A

Rogationtide

Sermon

from

Eleventh-Century

Salisbury.

Thomas

N.

Hall

and

Nathan Ristuccia. Revue Bénédictine, 123 (June, 2013), 42–64.
Saint Bernard et le Nouveau Monastère. Joël Regnard. Collectanea Cisterciensia, 75 (1,
2013), 41–61.
Le

vitrail

de

la

Crucifixion

de

la

cathédrale
e

de

Châlons-en-Champagne.

Robert

e

Favreau. Cahiers de civilisation médiévale, X –XII siècles, 56 (Apr.–June, 2013), 113–35.
“When We Do Nothing Wrong, We Are Peers”: Peter the Chanter and TwelfthCentury

Political

Thought.

Katherine

Chambers.

Speculum,

88

(April,

2013),

405–26.
Planning for Pilgrims: St Andrews as the second Rome. Ian Campbell. Innes Review, 64
(May, 2013), 1–22.
Nouvelles recherches sur le légendier de Clairvaux. Cécile Lanéry. Analecta Bollandiana,
131 (June, 2013), 60–133.
Insediamenti

francescani

femminili

in

Liguria

nel

secolo

XIII.

Silvia

Romanelli.

Collectanea franciscana, 83 (1–2, 2013), 181–204.
Die Anfänge der Franziskus-Hagiografie in anderer Sicht. Paul Bösch. Wissenschaft und
Weisheit, 76 (1, 2013), 3–39.
Evidence for Dualism in Inquisitorial Registers of

the 1240s: A Contribution to a

Debate. Claire Taylor. History, 98 (July, 2013), 319–45.
Perfekte Harmonie. Kardinal Stefano Conti und der Freskenzyklus bei SS. Quattro
Coronati in Rom. Matthias Thumser. Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte, 123 (2–3, 2012),
145–72.
“Lex gratiae, lex sanctitatis”: Homage to a saint by a saint [to Francis by Bonaventure].
Regis J. Armstrong. Collectanea franciscana, 83 (1–2, 2013), 55–105.
L’ordre des frères ermites de Saint-Augustin en Méditerranée orientale et leur couvent
nicosiate

e

e

(XIII –XVI

siècles).

Philippe

Trélat.

Augustiniana,

62

(3–4,

2012),

265–90.
The Fall of Acre as a Spiritual Crisis. The Letters of Riccoldo of Monte Croce. Iris
Shagrir. Revue Belge de Philologie et d’Histoire, 90 (4, 2012), 1107–20.
Redefining the Altarpiece in Renaissance Italy: Giotto’s Stigmatization of Saint Francis
and Its Pisan Context. Donal Cooper. Art History, 36 (Sept., 2013), 686–713.
Landed Estates of the Knights Templar in England and Wales and their Management
in the Early Fourteenth Century. Philip Slavin. Journal of

Historical Geography, 42

(Oct., 2013), 36–49.
Spittal

Place-Names

in

Menteith

and

Strathendrick:

Evidence

of

Cr usading

Endowments? Peter McNiven. Innes Review, 64 (May, 2013), 23–38.
The

Disappearance

of

an

Author

and

the

Emergence

of

a

Genre:

Niccolò

da

Poggibonsi and Pilgrimage Guidebooks between Manuscript and Print. Kathryn
Blair Moore. Renaissance Quarterly, 66 (Summer, 2013), 357–411.

824

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Aspects économiques de la célébration des messes à la fin du Moyen Âge. Les chapele

lenies gérée par le chapitre cathédral d’Avignon au XIV

siècle. Tadao Inde. Revue

d’histoire de l’Église de France, 99 (Jan.–June, 2013), 5–23.
Les

miracles

du

suaire

de

Cadouin-Toulouse

et

la

folie

de

Charles

VI.

Michelle

Fournié. Revue d’histoire de l’Église de France, 99 (Jan.–June, 2013), 25–52.
e

Le respect des jours chômés au XV

siècle: l’exemple de la Champagne. François

Léauté. Revue d’histoire de l’Église de France, 98 (Jan.–June, 2012), 5–23.
Il culto di s. Marco nella Cattaro medievale. Katarina Mitrović. Studi Veneziani, LXII
(2011), 359–73.
Bernardino

da

Siena

e

l’Osservanza:

la

proposta

di

una

religione

civile.

Paolo

Evangelisti. Antonianum, LXXXVIII (Jan.–Mar., 2013), 41–71.
Poveri

e

povertà

da

Francesco

d’Assisi

a

Bernardino

da

Siena.

Marco

Bartoli.

Antonianum, LXXXVIII (Jan.–Mar., 2013), 73–89.
Bernardino e il pensiero economico dell’Osservanza: bene comune e interesse privato.
Nicola Riccardi, OFM. Antonianum, LXXXVIII (Jan.–Mar., 2013), 91–110.
Death by Humanism. Stephen Boyd. History Today, 63 (Aug., 2013), 31–38.
The

Physics

of

Holy

Oats:

Vernacular

Knowledge,

Qualities,

Fifteenth-Century England. Matthew Milner. Journal of

and

Remedy

in

Medieval and Early Modern

Studies, 43 (Spring, 2013), 219–45.
Santa Camilla Battista Varano “scrittrice”. Massimo Reschiglian. Collectanea franciscana,
83 (1–2, 2013), 205–21.
From Incense to Idolatry: The Reformation of Olfaction in Late Medieval German
Ritual. Jacob M. Baum. Sixteenth Century Journal, XLIV (Summer, 2013), 323–44.

Sixteen th

Cen tu ry

The Isle of Loch Clunie: The Key to the See of Dunkeld. Mathew Shelley. Innes Review,
64 (May, 2013), 39–65.
“Wir Lutherischen”. Zur Ausbildung eines konfessionellen Identitätsbewusstseins bei
Martin Luther. Albrecht Beutel. Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche, 110 (2, 2013), 158–86.
Luther and the Jews. Gerhard O. Forde. Lutheran Quarterly, XXVII (Summer, 2013),
125–42.
Elisabeth,

Duchess

of

Braunschweig-Lüneburg

(1510–1558)

and

Reformer.

Kirsi

Stjerna. Lutheran Quarterly, XXVII (Summer 2013), 188–210.
Fragments from a Medieval Archive: The Life and Death of
Briony McDonagh. Journal of
The

Authoritative

Status

of

Sir Robert Constable.

Historical Geography, 42 (Oct., 2013), 50–61.

the

Smalcald

Articles.

David

J.

Zehnder.

Concordia

Theological Quarterly, 74 (July–Oct., 2010), 325–42.
New Attributions for Drawings by Girolamo Mazzola Bedoli for Parma Cathedral.
Mary Vaccaro. Master Drawings, LI (Summer, 2013), 165–80.

825

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Authoritative Copies and Divine Originals: Lucretian Metaphor, Painting on Stone,
and the Problem of Originality in Michelangelo’s Rome. Elena Cavillo.

Renaissance

Quarterly, 66 (Summer, 2013), 453–508.
Espírtus libres: el alumbradismo y Miguel Servet. María Tausiet. Hispania Sacra, 65 (1,
2013), 73–102.
Cadena de oro para atraer a los herejes. Argumentos de persuasión y estrategias de supervivencía en Fray Juan de Villagarcía, O.P., discípulo de Fray Bartolomé de Caranza.
Doris Moreno. Hispania Sacra, 65 (1, 2013), 29–71.
Faut-il excommunier sur-le-champ les iconoclastes et ceux qui refusent de payer les
dîmes?

Un

“brevet”

synodal

inconnu

de

1561.

Philip

Benedict

and

Nicolas

Fornerod. Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du Protestantisme Français, 159 (Apr.–June,
2013), 297–311.
After Iconoclasm: Reconciliation and the Resacralization in the Southern Netherlands,
ca.

1566–85.

Andrew

Spicer.

Sixteenth

Century

Journal,

XLIV

(Summer,

2013),

411–33.
o

Correspondencia de Pedro Chacón (III). Comentario a la Carta n . 3. Juan-Francisco
Domínguez. La Ciudad de Dios, CCXXVI (May–Aug., 2013), 379–420.
“Did

the

Pastor

Buy

You

a

Drink?”

Religious

Confessional Elections in the Village of

Choice,

Clerical

Persuasion,

and

Goumoëns. James Blakeley. Sixteenth

Century Journal, XLIV (Summer, 2013), 345–66.
Apocalyptic Ireland: 1580–1641. Alan Ford. Irish Theological Quarterly, 78 (2, 2013),
123–48.
Conscience and the Word of God: Religious Arguments against the Ex Officio Oath.
Jonathan Michael Gray. Journal of

Ecclesiastical History, 64 (July, 2013), 494–512.

I Peretti da Montalto senza leopardi. La fiaba e la storia. Isidoro Liberale Gatti, OFM
Conv. Miscellanea Francescana, 113 (I–II, 2013), 235–58.
Aux origines de la méditation réformée: les Excellens discours et Opuscules théologiques de
Jean de L’Espine (1505–1597). Véronique Ferrer. Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du
Protestantisme Français, 159 (Apr.–June, 2013), 281–95.
La chiesa di S. Nicola da Tolentino. Teatini, Controriforma e mentalità veneziane in
epoca barocca. Antonio Manno. Studi Veneziani, LXIV (2011), 135–245.
The Conclaves of

1590 to 1592: An Electoral Crisis of

the Early Modern Papacy?

Miles Pattenden. Sixteenth Century Journal, XLIV (Summer, 2013), 391–410.
Preaching

and

Tübingen:

the

Shaping

Martin

of

Public

Consciousness

Crusius’

Corona

Anni.

in

Charlotte

Late

Sixteenth-Century

Methuen.

Zeitschrift

für

Kirchengeschichte, 123 (2–3, 2012), 173–92.

Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries

La intervención musical en las exequias reales de la catedral de Cuenca (1598–1621).
José Luis de la Fuente Charfolé. Hispania Sacra, 65 (1, 2013), 103–38.

826

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

La capilla musical de la colegiata de Santa María la Mayor en Talavera de la Reina
[Toledo]. Paulino Capdepón Verdú. Hispania Sacra, 65 (1, 2013), 181–237.
The Reception of

Reginald Scot’s Discovery of

Witchcraft: Witchcraft, Magic, and

Radical Religion. S. F. Davies. Journal of the History of Ideas, 74 (July, 2013), 381–401.
People of the Covenant and the English Bible. Naomi Tadmor. Transactions of the Royal
Historical Society, 6th ser., 22 (2012), 95–110.
Maler

und

Reliquienjäger.

Giovanni

Angelo

Santini

“Toccafondo”

und

die

Katakomben Roms im frühen 17. Jahrhundert. Massimiliano Ghilardi. Römische
Quartalschrift, 107 (3–4, 2012), 145–62.
The writings and artistic patronage of patriarch Giovanni Tiepolo (1570–1631): a preliminary investigation. Helen Deborah Walberg. Studi Veneziani, LXIII (2011),
319–50.
La storia del monastero di S. Giorgio Maggiore scritta dal monaco Fortunato Olmo.
Edited by Sergio Baldan. Studi Veneziani, LXIII (2011), 351–546.
Faith and Reason in Stuart England. Christopher J. Walker. History Today, 63 (Aug.,
2013), 39–41.
Beached Whales and Priests of God: Kepler and the Cometary Spirit of 1607. Patrick
J. Boner. Early Science and Medicine, 17 (6, 2012), 589–603.
Religiosas pompas, sagrados estruendos: el ceremonial de la censura inquisitorial en el siglo
XVII. Manuel Peña Diaz. Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, ser. 5, 4 (1,
2012), 229–50.
Religion et politique au XVII

siècle. Anthime-Denis Cohon, évêque de Nîmes, servi-

teur de Dieu, du roi et de la patrie. Robert Sauzet. Revue d’histoire de l’Église de France,
98 (Jan.–June, 2012), 67–81.
Publicity, Privacy and Religious Toleration in Hobbes’s Leviathan. Arash Abizadeh.
Modern Intellectual History, 10 (Aug., 2013), 261–91.
Baiting the Bear: The Anglican Attack on Hobbes in the Later 1660s. Jon Parkin.
History of

Political Thought, 34 (3, 2013), 421–58.

Courtiers with a conscience: The Lazarists of

Versailles and Saint-Cyr, 1674–1704.

Sean Alexander Smith. French History, 27 (Sept., 2013), 351–70.
La circulation des Huguenots sur les routes du Refuge. Yves Krumenacker. Revue d’histoire de l’Église de France, 98 (July–Dec., 2012), 311–27.
Fissures et paradoxes dans le théologie politique d’Élie Merlat (1634–1705). Myriam
Yardeni. Revue de l’histoire des religions, 230 (Jan.–Mar., 2013), 67–83.
Le jansénisme et le recours à la doctrine thomiste: La défense du philothomisme
Augustinien

au

temps

de

la

querelle

du

Cas

de

conscience

(1702–1706).

Sylvio

Hermann De Franceschi. Revue d’histoire de l’Église de France, 98 (July–Dec., 2012),
285–310.
Filtri d’amore e pratiche magiche nei processi dell’Inquisizione di Aquileia e Concordia
(XVIII sec.). Laura Mascarin. Studi Veneziani, LXII (2011), 275–355.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

827

Un documento inédito del siglo XVIII. El padre jesuita Pedro Lozano y su primera
carta anua, 1720–1730. Pedro Migeul Omar Svriz Wucherer. Hispania Sacra, 65 (1,
2013), 139–59.
Jewish Support of

the Salzburg Lutheran Refugees in 1732–33. Wolfgang Splitter.

Lutheran Quarterly, XXVII (Summer, 2013), 143–66.
“Cartapacios de verbos” Los manuscritos de literatura propia de la compañía de Jesús.
M

a

Dolores García Gómez. Hispania Sacra, 65 (1, 2013), 161–80.

Il “Protèo delle Sacre Scritture”. La dissertazione sull’Ecclesiaste di Giacobbe Saraval
(post 1770, ante 1782). Paolo L. Bernardini. Studi Veneziani, LXIII (2011), 607–31.
De Lyon aux prisons de France. Les origines des Sœurs de Marie-Joseph pour les prisons (1795–1852). Louis Faivre d’Arcier. Revue d’histoire de l’Église de France, 98
(July–Dec., 2012), 329–53.
Disremembering 1798? Guy Beiner. History & Memory, 25 (Spring/Summer, 2013),
9–50.

Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries

La Fête-Dieu d’Aix de 1803. Le témoignage d’une voyageuse anglaise. Noël Coulet.
Revue d’histoire de l’Église de France, 99 (Jan.–June, 2012), 53–74.
Documentos inéditos referentes a la desaparición de las joyas del Monasterio del
Escorial durante la Guerra de la Independencia. María-Luisa Gil Meana. La Ciudad
de Dios, CCXXVI (May–Aug., 2013), 471–94.
Simón Rodríguez Laso, un clérigo ilustrado en el colegio de San Clemente de los
españoles. Carlos Nieto Sánchez. Hispania Sacra, 65 (1, 2013), 275–308.
Johann Michael Sailer als Prediger und sein Verhältnis zur Aufklärung. Christian Witt.
Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche, 110 (2, 2013), 187–218.
John Henry Newman and the Church Fathers: Writing Church History in the First
Person. Benjamin J. King. Irish Theological Quarterly, 78 (2, 2013), 149–61.
William Froude, John Henry Newman and Scientific Practice in the Culture of Victorian
Doubt. Don Leggett. English Historical Review, CXXVIII (June, 2013), 571–95.
Joseph Salvador, le premier historien juif français du christianisme. Joël Sebban. Revue
d’histoire de l’Église de France, 98 (July–Dec., 2012), 355–71.
e

La cabale au service du christianisme au XIX

siècle: le chevalier Drach et le père

Perrone. Jérôme Rousse-Lacordaire. Revue des Sciences Philosophiques et Théologiques, 96
(Oct.–Dec., 2012), 703–48.
Indigenous Medical Practices and the Advent of CMS [Church Missionary Society]
Medical Evangelism in Nineteenth-Century Yorubaland. Temilola Alanama. Church
History & Religious Culture, 93 (1, 2013), 5–27.
Evangelical Reactions to the 1848 Revolution in Germany. Nicholas M. Railton.
Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte, 123 (2–3, 2012), 195–224.

828

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Naissance

et

essor

des

Unions

chrétiennes

de

jeunes

gens

(1852–1914).

Cédric

Boulard. Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du Protestantisme Français, 159 (Apr.–June,
2013), 313–27.
e

Écrire l’histoire ecclésiastique en France au milieu du XIX

siècle. Censure et auto-

censure de sujets “sensibles”. Hannah Schneider. Revue d’histoire de l’Église de France,
99 (Jan.–June, 2012), 75–93.
Tra Chiesa e Stato: la vita religiosa tra fine Ottocento e inizio Novecento. Giancarlo
Rocca. Collectanea franciscana, 83 (1–2, 2013), 5–54.
Laiengottesdienste in priesterlosen Gemeinden des Bistums Paderborn während des
Kulturkampfes—Beispiele

aus

dem

Eichsfeld.

Torsten

W.

Liturgisches

Müller.

Jahrbuch, 63 (1, 2013), 21–38.
El P. Conrado Muiños Sáenz. En el I Centenario de su muerte. Teófilo Viñas Román,
O.S.A. La Ciudad de Dios, CCXXVI (May–Aug., 2013), 421–51.
The diplomatic negotiations carried out by the Romanian Government with the
Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople for the recognition of the autocephaly
of the Romanian Orthodox Church (1885). Mihai Săsăujan. Ostkirchliche Studien, 61
(1–2, 2013), 245–63.
Afro-Christian Syncretism in the Kingdom of Congo. John K. Thornton. Journal of
African History, 54 (Mar., 2013), 53–77.
Going Dutch in the Modern Age: Abraham Kuyper’s Struggle for a Free Church in
the Nineteenth-Century Netherlands. John Halsey Wood, Jr. Journal of

Ecclesiastical

History, 64 (July, 2013), 513–32.
Ursmer Berlière et les bollandistes Albert Poncelet et Hippolyte Delehaye. Bernard
Joassart. Analecta Bollandiana, 131 (June, 2013), 134–53.
e

Les “saviors du religieux” dans la France du XX

siècle. Trois moments d’une histoire

intellectuelle de la sécularisation. Denis Pelletier. Recherches de Science Religieuse, 101/2
(Apr.–June, 2013), 167–80.
Josef Strzygowski als Initiator der christlich-kunsthistorischen Orientforschung und
Visionär der Kunstwissenschaft. Alexander Zäh. Römische Quartalschrift, 107 (3–4,
2012), 249–92.
El cristiano Joan Maragall: tres artículos sobre la semana trágica. Hilari Raguer i Suñer.
Hispania Sacra, 65 (1, 2013), 361–84.
Freed

Slaves,

Missionaries,

and

Respectability:

The

Expansion

of

Frontier from Angola to Belgian Congo. David Maxwell. Journal of

the

Christian

African History,

54 (Mar., 2013), 79–102.
Jean-Jacques Gailliard (1890–1976) peintre “swédenborgien”. Un patrimoine d’avantgarde oublié au panthéon de l’art sacré? Sébastien Clerbois. Revue de l’histoire des religions, 230 (Jan.–Mar., 2013), 85–111.
Gradualist or Revolutionary Secularization? A Case Study of Religious Belonging in
Inter-War Britain, 1918–1939. Clive C. Field.
(1, 2013), 57–93.

Church History & Religious Culture, 93

829

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

L’Action catholique à l’ombre de la Grand Guerre. L’exemple de quelques aumôniers
de la Jeunesse étudiante chrétienne. Bernard Giroux. Revue d’histoire de l’Église de
France, 99 (Jan.–June, 2012), 95–114.
Western Utopias, Missionary Economics, and the Chinese Village. Margherita Zanasi.
Journal of
Di

fronte

World History, 24 (June, 2013), 359–87.

al

vangelo:

la

tempra

dell’evangelizzatore.

Sulle

orme

del

card.

Celso

Costantini. Savio Hon Tai Fai. Studia Patavina, LX (Jan.–Apr., 2013), 153–63.
Patronage und Nepotismus beim Aufstieg und Fall einer kirchlichen Bausparkasse:
Personalia zur Deutschen Evangelischen Heimstättengesellschaft (Devaheim). Jan
Körnert and Klemens Grube. Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte, 123 (2–3, 2012), 225–49.
La création d’un style architectural sino-chrétien. L’œuvre d’Adelbert Gresnigt, moineartiste bénédictin en Chine (1927–1932). Thomas Coomans. Revue Bénédictine, 123
(June, 2013), 128–70.
The Formation of a Conservative Catholic Intellectual: Douglas Francis Jerrold as a
Disciple

of

Hilaire

Belloc.

Hale. Heythrop

Frederick

Journal,

LIV

(May,

2013),

397–413.
French Catholic Activism in Algeria between colonization and development, 1930–65.
Sheila Nowinski. French History, 27 (Sept., 2013), 371–93.
L’absence remarquée des Bollandistes au sixième Congrès international de l’histoire
des religions (Bruxelles, 1935). Bernard Joassart. Analecta Bollandiana, 131 (June,
2013), 154–60.
Das Zeugnis für die Orthodoxie in der Zeit des sowjetischen Terrors am Beispiel von
Erzpriester Liverij Voronov, Protopresbyter Vitalij Borovoj und Erzbischof Serafim
(Ostroumov). Karl Christian Felmy. Ostkirchliche Studien, 61 (1–2, 2013), 200–09.
La Santa Sede, la República y los niños vascos: una batalla diplomática dentro de la
guerra civil española. Antón M. Pazos. Hispania Sacra, 65 (1, 2013), 385–423.
For Whom the Bell Tolls: The Franco Regime and Contemporary Spain. James Kurth.
Modern Age, 55 (Summer, 2013), 27–36.
Praying for Independence [in Vanuatu]. Helen Gardner. Journal of

Pacific History, 48

(June, 2013), 122–43.
“Die

letzte

Chance”.

Judenfrage’

der

Heinrich

Vogels

EKD-Synode

in

Beitrag

zur

Entstehung

Berlin-Weißensee

1950.

des

‘Wortes

Christoph

zur

Vogel.

Evangelische Theologie, 73 (3, 2013), 189–206.
Evangelischer

Kirchentag

1951

Berlin,

Hermann

Ehlers

und

das

Scheitern

des

“Kirchentagskreises” im Bundestag. Andreas Meier. Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte,
123 (2–3, 2012), 251–83.
Die

Schöpfung

erforschen

und

schützen.

Der

Kapuziner

Sigbert

Wagener

(1919–2004) als Naturwissenschaftler. Leonhard Lehmann, OFM Cap. Wissenschaft
und Weisheit, 76 (1, 2013), 76–112.
Protection from the British Empire? Central Africa and the Church of
Bryan S. Glass. Journal of

Scotland.

Imperial and Commonwealth History, 41 (3, 2013), 475–95.

830

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

e

Sur l’implantation du “darbysme” en France au XX siècle. Christian Maillebouis. Bulletin
de la Société de l’Histoire du Protestantisme Français, 159 (Apr.–June, 2013), 329–63.
Naissance du Comité épiscopal pour les relations avec le judaïsme et amorce d’une
réflexion théologique post-conciliaire. Thérèse Hebbelinck. Revue d’histoire de l’Église
de France, 98 (Jan.–June, 2012), 83–107.
Mayo del 68 y los católicos catalanes. Francisco Martínez Hoyas. Hispania Sacra, 65 (1,
2013), 425–45.
“Lausanne 1974”: The Challenge from the Majority World to Northern-Hemisphere
Evangelicalism. Brian Stanley. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 64 (July, 2013), 533–51.
Abortion Politics during the Howard Years: Beyond Liberalisation. Barbara Baird.
Australian Historical Studies, 44 (June, 2013), 245–61.

American
A

Minister’s

Bereavement

and

Remarriage:

Ebenezer

Massachusetts. Ross W. Beales, Jr. History of

Parkman

of

Westborough,

the Family, 17 (Oct., 2012), 397–406.

An Eye for Prices, an Eye for Souls. Michael A. Verney. Journal of the Early Republic, 33
(Fall, 2013), 397–431.
Priests,

Prelates,

and

Pastoral

Ministry

among

Ethnic

Mexicans:

San

Antonio,

1840–1940. Timothy Matovina. American Catholic Studies, 124 (Spring, 2013), 1–20.
Going “Where They Dare not Follow”: Race, Religion, and Sojourner Truth’s Early
Interracial Reform. Margaret Washington. Journal of

African American History, 98

(Winter, 2013), 48–71.
Loehe’s Lens: Wilhelm Loehe’s Critique of
Synod during the Revolution of

Democratic Principles in the Missouri

1848/49. William Wangelin. Concordia Historical

Institute Quarterly, 86 (Summer, 2013), 30–47.
A Bavarian Missionary Monk in the “Land of

Freedom”: Fr. Andreas Zucktrigel,

O.S.B., A Sequel. Warren Murrman, O.S.B. American Benedictine Review, 64 (June,
2013), 154–77.
Record of

a Journey: Mother Benedicta Riepp and Companions Travel to North

America,

part

II.

Helen

Herbstritt,

O.S.B.,

and

Ephrem

Hollermann,

O.S.B.

American Benedictine Review, 64 (June, 2013), 198–219.
United, Yet Divided: An Analysis of Bishops Martin John Spalding and John Baptist
Purcell during the Civil War Era. Carl C. Creason. American Catholic Studies, 124
(Spring, 2013), 49–69.
“Where

We

Can

Battle

for

the

Lord

and

Japan”:

The

Development

of

Protestant Antiracism before World War II. Sarah Griffith. Journal of

Liberal
American

History, 100 (Sept. 2013), 429–53.
Pulling Back the “Veil Which Now Covers Our Schools”: The Catholic Educational
Exhibit, 1892–1893. Sarah K. Nytroe. Church History & Religious Culture, 93 (1,
2013), 29–55.

831

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

The Consistency and Inconsistency of Cultural Oppression: American Indian Dance
Bans, 1900–1933. Gabriella Treglia. Western Historical Quarterly, XLIV (Summer,
2013), 145–65.
An American Catholic Culture of

Death and Dying, 1900–1955. Sarah K. Nytroe.

American Catholic Studies, 124 (Spring, 2013), 21–48.
One Succeeded, One Did Not: Bacone College and the Oklahoma Presbyterian College,
1910–80. Steven J. Crum. The Chronicles of Oklahoma, XCI (Spring, 2013), 40–61.
From Vienna to South Bend: A Refugee Professor’s Story [Bruno P. Schlesinger].
Philip Gleason. American Catholic Studies, 124 (Spring, 2013), 71–85.
Bringing Christ to the Nations: Walter A. Maier, The Lutheran Hour and Global
Christian Broadcasting (Part 1). Kirk Farney. Concordia Historical Institute Quarterly,
86 (Summer, 2013), 48–61.
From Edinburgh to Rome: Society and Social Justice in the Thought and Life of
Elizabeth Fox-Genovese. David Moltke-Hansen. Journal of

the Historical Society, 13

(June, 2013), 163–75.
Growing up Betsy [Elizabeth Fox-Genovese]. Deborah A. Symonds. Journal of

the

Historical Society, 13 (June, 2013), 177–94.

Latin American
Black Slaves and Messianic Dreams in Las Casas’s Plans for an Abundant Indies.
Andrew L. Wilson. Zeitschrift für Missionswissenschaft und Religionswissenschaft, 97 (1–2,
2013), 102–19.
Transformative Topographies: The Natural World in Historia de los Triumphos de la Santa
Fee by Andrés Pérez de Ribas, S.J. (1645). Maureen Ahern. Colonial Latin American
Review, 22 (Aug., 2013), 161–83.
‘Es honor de su nación’: Legal Rhetoric, Ethnic Alliances and the Opening of

an

Indigenous Convent in Colonial Oaxaca. Monica Díaz. Colonial Latin American
Review, 22 (Aug., 2013), 235–58.
De la iglesia a la plantación: tras la huella de los betlemitas en La Habana (1704–1842).
Adriam Camacho Domínguez. Hispania Sacra, 65 (1, 2013), 239–74.
La cultura teológica de las elites letradas. ¿Especulación teórica o pragmatismo en el
Tucumán del siglo XVIII? Silvano G. A. Benito Moya. Hispania Sacra, 65 (1, 2013),
309–59.
Elementos simbólicos na talha da Capela do Santíssimo Sacramento na Igreja Abacial
Nossa Senhora do Monserrate: Mosteiro de São Bento do Rio de Janeiro. D.
Mauro Maia Fragoso, O.S.B. Coletãnea, XI (July–Dec., 2012), 217–50.
The Calles Government and Catholic Dissidents: Mexico’s Transnational Projects of
Repression, 1926–1929. Julia D. Young. The Americas, 70 (July, 2013), 63–91.
O laicato na Conferência Episcopal Latino-Americana de Medellín (1968). Sávio
Carlos Desan Scopinho. Revista Eclesiástica Brasileira, LXXIII (Jan., 2013), 150–80.

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED
Allen, John L., Jr. The Catholic Church: What Everyone Needs to Know. (New York: Oxford
University Press. 2013. Pp. xii, 298. $16.95 paperback.)
Battenhouse, Roy. Christian Irony in Shakespeare’s Histories, Vols. 1 and 2. Edited by Peter
Milward. [Renaissance Monographs, Vols. 37 and 38.] (Tokyo: The Renaissance
Institute, Sophia University. 2009. Pp. vi, 149, iv, 106. Paperback.)
Billings, Rachel M.“Israel Served the Lord”: The Book of

Joshua as Paradoxical Portrait of

Faithful Israel. [Reading the Scriptures.] (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame
Press. 2013. Pp. x, 177. $30.00 paperback.)
Blumenthal, Uta-Renate, Kenneth Pennington, and Atria A. Larson (Eds.). Proceedings
of the Twelfth International Congress of Medieval Canon Law (Washington, DC: 1 –7 August
2 0 0 4 ). [Monumenta Iuris Canonici, Series C: Subsidia, Vol. 13.] (Vatican City:
Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana. 2008. Pp. xxxviii, 1136. €160,00.)
Bond, Adam L. The Imposing Preacher : Samuel DeWitt Proctor and Black Public Faith.
(Minneapolis: Fortress Press. 2013. Pp. xii, 247. $29.00 paperback.)
Bruscino, Thomas. A Nation Forged in War : How World War II Taught Americans to Get
Along. [Legacies of War.] (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press. 2010. Pp. xii,
348. $39.95.)
Cavadini, John C. (Ed.). Explorations in the Theology of

Benedict XVI. (Notre Dame:

University of Notre Dame Press. 2012.Pp. viii, 318. $30.00.)
Chapman, Alister, John Coffey, and Brad S. Gregory (Eds.). Seeing Things Their Way:
Intellectual History and the Return of

Religion. (Notre Dame: University of

Notre

Dame Press. 2009. Pp. viii, 267. $38.00 paperback.) Contents: 1. John Coffey and
Alister Chapman, “Introduction: Intellectual History and the Return of Religion”
(pp. 1–23); 2. Brad S. Gregory, “Can We ‘See Things Their Way’: Should We Try”
(pp. 24–45); 3. John Coffey, “Quentin Skinner and the Religious Dimension of
Early Modern Political Thought” (pp. 46–74); 4. Anna Sapir Abulafia, “‘Sie Stinken
Beide,’ or How to Use Medieval Christian-Jewish Disputational Material” (pp.
75–90); 5. Howard Hotson, “Anti-Semitism, Philo-Semitism, Apocalypticism, and
Millenarianism in Early Modern Europe: A Case Study and Some Methodological
Reflections”

(pp.

91–133);

6.

Richard

A.

Muller,

“Reflections

on

Persistent

Whiggism and Its Antidotes in the Study of Sixteenth- and Seventeenth-century
Intellectual
Revisited:

History”

(pp.

Methodological

134–53);

7.

Reflections

Willem

J.

on

Study

the

Van

Asselt,

of

“Scholasticism

Seventeenth-century

Reformed Thought” (pp. 154–74); 8. James E. Bradley, “The Changing Shape of
Religious Ideas in Enlightened England” (pp. 175–201); 9. Mark A. Knoll, “British
Methodological Pointers for Writing a History of
202–25);

10.

Alister

Chapman,

“Intellectual

832

Theology in America” (pp.

History

and

Religion

in

Modern

833

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED

Britain” (pp. 226–39); 11. David W. Bebbington, “Response: The History of Ideas
and the Study of Religion” (pp. 240–57).
Corrigan, John, and Lynn S. Neal (Eds.). Religious Intolerance in America: A Documentary
History. (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. 2010. Pp. xiv, 290. $24.95
paperback.) The documents are divided into eight chapters—on colonial America,
anti-Catholicism, anti-Mormonism, various nineteenth-century religious groups,
native American religions, antisemitism, “new” religions in the twentieth century,
and the Branch Davidians.
Dainese,

Davide.

Passibilità

divina:

la

dottrina

dell’anima

in

Clemente

Alessandrino.

[Fundamentis Novis: Studi di letteratura cristiana antica, mediolatina e bizantina,
Vol. 2.] (Rome: Città Nuova. 2012. Pp. 306. €30,00 paperback.)
Deutsch, Helen, and Mary Terrall (Eds.). Vital Matters: Eighteenth-Century Views of
Conception, Life, and Death. (Toronto: University of Toronto Press. 2012. Pp. x, 333.
$70.00.)
Edgar,

Swift

(Ed.).

Translation.

The

Vulgate

[Dumbarton

Bible,

Oaks

Vol.

III:

Medieval

The

Poetical

Library,

Vol.

Books.
8.]

Douay-Rheims

(Cambridge,

MA:

Harvard University Press. 2011. Pp. xxxviii, 1187. $29.95.)
Haile, Getatchew (Ed.). A History of

the First ∃stifanosite Monks. [Corpus Scriptorum

Christianorum Orientalium, Vols. 635 and 636; Scriptores Aethiopici, Tomi 112
and 113.] (Leuven: Peeters. 2011. Pp. viii, 109, xii, 81. €60,00 clothbound; €55,00
paperback.) The text in Ge’ez and an English translation. The monks of

the

Monastery of Däbrä Gärzen in the province of Tegray, Ethiopia, in the first half
of the fifteenth century called for a return to early Christianity and to an early form
of monastic life. They were led by the fearless Abba ∃stifanos.
Heath, J. M. F. Paul’s Visual Piety: The Metamor phosis of

the Beholder. (Oxford: Oxford

University Press. 2013. Pp. xiv, 312. $125.00.)
Higgins, Michael W., and Kevin Burns. Genius Born of

Anguish: The Life & Legacy of

Henri Nouwen. (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press; and Montréal: Novalis. 2012. Pp. 160.
$17.95 paperback.)
Horlacher,

Rebekka,

and

Daniel

Tröhler

(Eds.). Sämtliche

Briefe

an

Johann

Heinrich

Pestalozzi, Kritische Ausgabe, Band 2: 1805–1809. (Zurich: Verlag Neue Zürcher
Zeitung; and Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. 2010. Pp. xii, 822. $238.00.)
Hornbeck, J. Patrick, II, Stephen E. Lahey, and Fiona Somerset (Eds. and Trans.).
Wycliffite Spirituality. [The Classics of

Western Spirituality.] (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist

Press. 2013. Pp. xii, 412. $39.95 clothbound; $29.95 paperback.)
Hurel, Daniel-Odon, and Maria-Cristina Pitassi (Eds.). La Théologie: Une anthologie. Vol.
IV: Les Temps modernes. (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf. 2013. Pp. 597. €49,00 paperback.) This volume contains ninety-eight brief articles on Catholic and other persons of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.
Kilbride, Daniel. Being American in Europe, 1750–1860. (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
University Press. 2013. Pp. xii, 230. $34.95.)

834

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED

Lane, Anthony N. S. Bernard of

Clairvaux: Theologian of

the Cross. [Cistercian Studies

Series, No. 248.] (Collegeville, MN: Cistercian Publications and Liturgical Press.
2013. Pp. xx, 280. $29.95 paperback.)
Le Groupe des Dombes. “One Teacher”: Doctrinal Authority in the Church. Translated by
Catherine

E.

Clifford.

(Grand

Rapids,

MI:

William

B.

Eerdmans

Publishing.

2010.Pp. xxiv, 162. $26.00 paperback.)
MacCulloch, Diarmaid. Diarmaid MacCulloch’s A History of

Christianity: The First Three

Thousand Years. BBC Documentary. (New York: Ambrose Video Publishing. 2010.
6 discs, 6 hours. $79.99 DVD.)
McInerny, Ralph. Dante and the Blessed Virgin. (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame
Press. 2010. Pp. xviii, 164. $30.00.)
Meuthen, Erich. Nicholas of Cusa: A Sketch for a Biography. Translated from the seventh
German edition with an introduction by David Crowner and Gerald Christianson.
(Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press. 2010. Pp. xxviii, 177.
$24.95 paperback.) The seventh German edition was published by the Verlag
Ashendorff in 1992. The original edition, published in 1964, was reviewed by John
B. Toews ante, LII (January, 1967), 590–91.
Millett, Bella (Trans.). Ancrene Wisse: Guide for Anchoresses. [Exeter Medieval Texts and
Studies.] (Exeter: University of Exeter Press. Distrib. University of Chicago Press.
2009. Pp. l, 331. $32.50 paperback.)
Montero, Mercedes. La Conquista del Espacio Público: Mujeres Españolas en la Universidad
(1910–1936). [Colección Estudios sobre la Mujer.] (Madrid: Minerva Ediciones.
2009. Pp. 282. €20,00 paperback.)
Moreno, Antonio F., S.J. Church, State, and Civil Society in Postauthoritarian Philippines:
Narratives

of

Engaged

Citizenship.

[Governance

and

Political

Change.]

(Manila:

Ateneo de Manila University Press. 2006. Pp. xxii, 349. $48.00 paperback.)
Mueller, Donald J., and Jacqueline Hansen Mag giore. Fluent in Faith: The Gift of Mar y
McCormick.

(Milwaukee:

Marquette

University

Press.

2012.

Pp.

181.

$15.00

paperback.)
Ó Conchubhair, Brian, and Susan Mullen Guibert. Notre Dame’s Happy Returns: Dublin,
the Experience, the Game. Photography by Matt Cashore. (Notre Dame: University of
Notre Dame Press. 2012. Pp. xviii, 165. $38.00.)
Rigney,

Melanie.

Sisterhood

of

Saints:

Daily

Guidance

and

Inspiration.

(Cincinnati:

Franciscan Media. 2013. Pp. xiv, 370. $15.99.)
Rigotti, Gianpaolo (Ed.). Dall’Oronte al Tevere: Scritti in onore del cardinale Ignace Moussa I
Daoud per il cinquantesimo di sacerdozio. [Congregazione per le Chiese Orientali.]
(Rome: Pontificio Istituto Orientale, Edizioni ‹‹Orientalia Christiana.›› 2004. Pp.
viii, 310. Paperback.)
Rohr, Richard. Yes, And... Daily Meditations. (Cincinnati: Franciscan Media. 2013. Pp. xii,
416. $24.99.)

835

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED

Russo, Anthony, C.Ss.R. In Silent Prayer : A History of
Archdiocese

of

Philadelphia:

1846–2008.

(Garden

Ministry with the Deaf

City

Park,

NY:

in the

Square

One

Publishers. 2008. Pp. xx, 169. $17.95 paperback.)
Salenson, Christian. Christian de Chergé: A Theology of

Hope. Translated by Nada Conic.

[Cistercian Studies Series, No. 247.] (Collegeville, MN: Cistercian Publications and
Liturgical Press. 2009. Pp. xiv, 208. $19.95 paperback.)
Santos Martínez, Pedro. Estudios sobre historia de la iglesia (América, Argentina, Mendoza.
Pío XII: la paz y la “Iglesia del Silencio”). (Buenos Aires, Mendoza: Gladius. 2009. Pp.
317. Paperback.)
Scelzo,

Angelo.

Anche

la

Curia

ha

un’anima

(napoletana):

Vita

del

Cardinale

Giuseppe

Casoria. (Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana. 2009. Pp. 147. €12,00 paperback.)
Semeraro, Cosimo (Ed.). La Sollecitudine Ecclesiale di Pio XI: Alla luce delle nuove fonti
archivistiche, Atti del Convegno Internazionale di Studio, Città del Vaticano, 26–28
febbraio 2009. [Pontificio Comitato di Scienze Storiche, Atti e documenti, Vol. 31.]
(Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana. 2010. Pp. 487. €40,00.) The twenty papers
published in this volume are: Philippe Levillain, “Le pontificat de Pie XI: Une historiographie singulière” (pp. 18–34); Sergio Pagano, “Le nuove fonti archivistiche
sul pontificato di Pio XI” (pp. 35–43); Jean-Dominique Durand, “Lo stile di governo di Pio XI” (pp. 44–60); Giorgio Feliciani, “Tra diplomazia e pastoralità: nunzi
pontifici

ed

episcopato

locale

negli

anni

di

Pio

XI”

(pp.

61–77);

Claude

Prudhomme, “Pie XI pape des missions. Nouvelles archives, nouveaux regards”
(pp. 78–95); Maurilio Guasco, “La formazione del clero al tempo di Pio XI” (pp.
96–109); Eutimio Sastre Santos, “Sollecitudine di Pio XI (1922–1939) circa la vita
religiosa.

Indagine

l’Azione

Cattolica”

archivistica”
(pp.

(pp.

110–48);

Francesco

149–82);

Roberto

Regoli,

“Il

Malgeri,

“Pio

XI

r uolo

della

Sacra

e

Congregazione degli Affari Ecclesiastici Straordinari durante il pontificato di Pio
XI”

(pp.

183–229);

Marcel

Chappin,

“Pio

XI

e

i

Congressi

Eucaristici

Internazionali. L’esempio di Dublino (1932)” (pp. 230–59); Giovanni Coco, “Pio
XI

e

l’unità

dei

cristiani:

le

Chiese

d’Oriente”

(pp.

260–312);

Johan

Ickx,

“L’enciclica ‘Mortalium animos’ (1928): sfide storiografiche in base al nuovo materiale archivistico della Santa Sede” (pp. 313–31); Thomas Brechenmacher, “Aspetti
del rapporto tra Santa Sede ed ebraismo fra le due guerre” (pp. 332–46); Rupert
Klieber, “Quadragesimo anno e lo ‘Ständestaat’ d’Austria nuova (1934–1938)” (pp.
347–62); Emilia Hrabovec, “Pio XI e le conseguenze pastorali dei trattati di pace
nell’Europa centro-orientale: il caso della Cecoslovacchia e dell’Ungheria” (pp.
363–95); Massimiliano Valente, “Pio XI e le conseguenze pastorali dei trattati di
pace nell’area balcanica: il caso del Regno dei serbi, croati e sloveni” (pp. 396–413);
Philippe Chenaux, “Pio XI e le rivoluzioni” (pp. 414–25); Régis Ladous, “Pie XI et
la distinction des sciences” (pp. 426–36); Roberto de Mattei, “Significato e valore
della presente ricerca su Pio XI” (pp. 437–40); Gianpaolo Romanato, “Bilancio
conclusivo” (pp. 441–50).
Staley, Lynn. The Island Garden: England’s Language of

Nation from Gildas to Marvell.

[Reformations: Medieval and Early Modern.] (Notre Dame: University of Notre
Dame Press. 2012. Pp. x, 345. $39.00 paperback.)

836

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED

Teske, Roland J., S.J. Essays on the Philosophy of

Henry of

Ghent. [Marquette Studies in

Philosophy, No. 76.] (Milwaukee: Marquette University Press. 2012. Pp. 275. $29.00
paperback.)
———, (Trans.). Henry of Ghent’s Summa of Ordinary Questions: Articles Thirty-One &
Thirty-Two

on

God’s

Eter nity

&

the

Divine

Attributes

in

General.

[Mediæval

Philosophical Texts in Translation, No. 49.] (Milwaukee: Marquette University
Press. 2012. Pp. 139. $17.00 paperback.)
Tranzillo,

Jeffrey.

John

Paul

II

on

the

Vulnerable.

(Washington,

DC:

The

Catholic

University of America Press. 2013. Pp. xxii, 374. $34.95 paperback.)
Tremayne, Peter [Peter Berresford Ellis]. Behold a Pale Horse: A Mystery of

Ancient

Ireland. (New York: Minotaur Books. 2011. Pp. xiv, 370. $15.99 paperback.)
———. The Seventh Trumpet: A Mystery of Ancient Ireland. (New York: Minotaur Books.
2012. Pp. xiv, 336. $25.99.)
Vidmar, John, O.P. 101 Questions & Answers on the Crusades and the Inquisition: Disputed
Questions. (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press. 2013. Pp. xii, 111. $14.95 paperback.)
Willits, Greg. The New Evangelization and You: Be Not Afraid. (Cincinnati: Servant Books,
Franciscan Media. 2013. Pp. xxii, 149. $16.99 paperback.)
Young,

Richard

Fox

(Ed.).

Understanding—Historical,

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