THE CATHOLIC HISTORICAL REVIEW VOL. 101 CENTENNIAL ISSUE 2015 NO. 1 Introduction: Material Culture and Catholic History MAUREEN C. MILLER* After setting out some of the reasons Catholicism developed a rich array of devotional and liturgical objects, this introduction to the centennial special issue of The Catholic Historical Review on Catholic material culture traces a brief history of the emergence of material culture studies while noting the contributions of Catholic scholars to it. It also defines material culture and describes several of the field’s approaches as exemplified by essays in the special issue. Strengths and weaknesses of these approaches are also noted. Keywords: material culture, Catholicism, objects, artifacts T he Catholic tradition’s engagement with material objects is rooted in the Gospels. Jesus changed water into wine, and multiplied loaves and fishes.1 He taught through parables that imbued common objects with higher meanings: lamps and bushels, new patches on old cloaks, wineskins, and fishing nets.2 When a woman seeking healing touched the hem of his garment, Jesus sensed “the power that had proceeded from him” through the fabric. His healing power was transmitted through material. Thus, many thereafter rushed to touch his garments and were also healed.3 At his last supper Jesus chose the most ubiquitous objects of the Mediterranean table—bread and a cup of wine—to institute the sacrament of his body and *Dr. Miller is professor of history at University of California, Berkeley, email: mcmiller@berkeley.edu. The author thanks Nelson H. Minnich for his encouragement and suggestions, and all the contributors—William B. Taylor, Caroline W. Bynum, Liam Matthew Brockey, and Colleen McDannell—for their generosity and inspiration. 1. Jn 2:6–10; Mt 14:16–21, 15:34–36; Mk 6:38–43; Lk 9:13–17; Jn 6:5–12. 2. Mt 5:15, 25:1–13, 9:16–17, 13:47; Mk 4:21, 2:21–22; Lk 8:16, 5:36–37. 3. Mk 5:25–34, 6:56; Lk 8:44–48; Mt 9:20–21, 14:36. 1 2 INTRODUCTION: MATERIAL CULTURE AND CATHOLIC HISTORY blood.4 Material objects in the Gospels can lead individuals to sacred truths, can transmit divine power, and can be transformed into Christ. Indeed, the mystery of the incarnation, the belief that God took on flesh and blood, becoming fully human while remaining fully God, had radical implications for Christian views of matter and the material. The new faith emerged in a diverse philosophical landscape, but one in which ambivalence or hostility toward matter was widely diffused. Strands of ancient Platonism and neo-Platonism opposed the higher and spiritual to the lower and material or fleshly, whereas Gnostics viewed the material world as the consequence of a primordial error, contaminating and constraining the spirit. The incarnation, of course, was at the root of the most difficult and contentious early Christian theological debates and did not yield uniformly positive attitudes toward flesh and matter.5 But by making matter part of God’s plan of salvation, it valorized the use of material objects in Christianity. These objects multiplied over the centuries. The liturgy came to employ chalices and patens of precious metals, candles and candleholders, bells and basins and cruets, altar coverings and ornamented frontals, sacred vestments, processional crosses and censers. Churches were furnished with pulpits and baldachins, altar railings and chancels, choir stalls and lecterns, papal and episcopal thrones, confessional booths and bronze-doors. The veneration of relics spurred the creation of myriad forms of reliquaries, from elaborate tombs to hold entire bodies to statues and busts representing the saint, to bejeweled cabinets, cases, and arks to secure and display fragments of holy persons. Private devotions fueled a remarkable proliferation of objects: ex votos, rosaries, medals and pilgrim badges, holy cards, plaques, and statues, to name just a few.6 Objects and their uses often sparked debate and attracted criticism, most notably during the Protestant Reformation of the sixteenth century. In response to critique, the Catholic Church sought to control, through sanction and censure, the faithful’s use of objects. But it 4. Mt 26:26–29; Mk 14:22–25; Lk 22:19–20. 5. Mark Edwards, Culture and Philosophy in the Age of Plotinus (London, 2006), pp. 14– 18, 48–57; Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition. A History of the Development of Doctrine, 1: The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition (100–600) (Chicago, 1971), pp. 226–77; Hannah Hunt, Clothed in the Body. Asceticism, the Body and the Spiritual in the Late Antique Era (Farnham, UK, 2012), pp. 149–202; Caroline Walker Bynum, Christian Materiality: An Essay on Religion in Late Medieval Europe (New York, 2011), pp. 33–36, 260–65. 6. A visual introduction to this bounty is Anton Legner, ed., Ornamenta ecclesiae: Kunst und Künstler der Romanik: Katalog zur Ausstellung des Schnütgen-Museums in der JosefHaubrich-Kunsthalle, Köln, 1985, 3 vols. (Cologne, 1985). MAUREEN C. MILLER 3 has never renounced the material and today’s Church still utilizes a wide array of liturgical and devotional objects, many unique to Catholicism. Art historians have long feasted on this abundance. But historians have privileged texts in reconstructing the past, and Catholicism has produced such an effusion of those that the ecclesiastical historian can easily revel in untapped archival sources. There is still much important Catholic history to be discovered and reconstructed from documents, manuscripts, and printed materials in archives and libraries all over the world. Still, Lucien Febvre’s call for an inclusive, a multifaceted, approach to the past—histoire totale— remains a valid and galvanizing ideal. Historians can illuminate more aspects of the Catholic past by widening their source base to embrace the rich material culture that the Church has produced over two millennia. This special issue of The Catholic Historical Review, part of the journal’s centennial celebration, presents four articles illustrating the interpretive and pedagogical possibilities offered by material approaches. In my own experience as a historian, the direct encounter with objects and spaces created by believers hundreds of years ago has been revelatory and stimulating: it has forced me to confront how much I don’t know and has helped me ask new kinds of questions. It has certainly taken me far out of my “comfort zone,” but it has also introduced me to exciting new bodies of sources and to specialists in fields I didn’t even know existed. While I think it has helped me produce more original scholarship, I know it has enlivened my classroom. For teaching the history of Catholicism, the objects and spaces of belief offer the most tangible points of entry to learners of all ages. I hope the catechist casting about for new resources to engage reluctant CCD students as well as the university teacher rethinking course offerings will find useful ideas, strategies, and bibliography here. Material culture can enrich the teaching, research, and writing of Catholic history. What Is “Material Culture”? In its most general sense, the study of material culture investigates the relationship between people and things; it focuses on objects as sources for human action and ideas. The relationship with people is key: describing and cataloging objects, comparing their forms and styles across time, for example, is not material culture, whereas using a change in style to investigate the human ideas and practices that drove that change is a study in material culture. This area of scholarship is interdisciplinary in origins and in contemporary practice, and scholars studying the Catholic tradition have contributed to its emergence as a vibrant field of inquiry. 4 INTRODUCTION: MATERIAL CULTURE AND CATHOLIC HISTORY The term material culture originated in anthropology in the late-nineteenth century. As early as 1875, the English archaeologist and ethnologist Augustus Pitt-Rivers advocated the consideration of “material culture” as “the outward signs and symbols of particular ideas in the mind.”7 In his archaeological work Pitt-Rivers pioneered the cataloging and study of all objects, rather than simply the beautiful or valuable ones, and in 1884 he established Oxford University’s anthropological museum with the gift of his personal collection of 22,000 objects. This emphasis on objects, particularly everyday objects, remains characteristic of work on material culture. Although anthropology created the term, other disciplines were also using objects as sources for human ideas, and Catholic scholars contributed to these developments. Christian archaeology is a key example. Constantine’s mother, the empress Helena, might be credited with initiating the excavation of Christian antiquities in 325, and her discovery of the “true cross” certainly began a long tradition of searching for relics underground. But a more scientific study of Christian remains had its origins in the Renaissance and the humanistic study of biblical languages. Its earliest centuries were dominated by discoveries in the Roman catacombs, most interpreted piously and used apologetically. Still, Antonio Bosio (1573–1629) stands out as an early luminary of archaeologically-informed historical scholarship: his four-volume Roma Sotteranea, written in the opening decades of the seventeenth century and published posthumously from 1632 to 1634, weighed the evidence of patristic and medieval texts against the physical and visual evidence he explored in the Roman catacombs.8 The Enlightenment further advanced more dispassionate scholarship and the incorporation of material sources into the body of evidence used by historians. Johann von Mosheim’s Institutionum historiae Christianae compendium (1752) and Edward Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (1776–88) were monuments of early attempts at “rational inquiry” into the development of Christianity, but it was mostly inscriptions—written texts imbedded within ecclesiastical 7. Thomas J. Schlereth, “Material Culture or Material Life: Discipline or Field? Theory or Method?,” in Living in a Material World: Canadian and American Approaches to Material Culture, ed. Gerald L. Pocius (St. John’s, Newfoundland, 1991), pp. 231–32. On Pitt-Rivers, see David K. van Keuren, “Museums and Ideology: Augustus Pitt-Rivers, Anthropological Museums, and Social Change in Late Victorian Britain,” Victorian Studies, 28 (1984), 171–89. 8. William H. C. Frend, The Archaeology of Early Christianity: A History (Minneapolis, 1996), pp. 1, 11–17; Gisella Wataghin Cantino, “Roma Sotterranea: Appunti sulle origini dell’archeologia cristiana,” Ricerche di storia dell’arte, 10 (1980), 5–14. MAUREEN C. MILLER 5 remains—that they incorporated from archaeological work. In the latenineteenth century—particularly with the foundation by Giovanni Battista de Rossi (1822–94) of the Bullettino di archeologia cristiana in 18639—and the early-twentieth century, however, a great number of new sites were excavated, opening new and unexpected avenues of research, particularly into dissident communities within early Christianity. Excavations in north Africa, the Balkans, Asia Minor, the Nile Valley, Nubia, Ethiopia, and Central Asia brought to light Christian churches and monasteries with attendant structures (cemeteries, baptisteries, episcopia, dormitories, refectories) as well as furnishings, decorative programs (mosaics, wall paintings), inscriptions, and caches of texts (from Egyptian ostraka and the Oxyrhynchus papyri to the precious codices of Nag Hammadi Gnostic texts). Great monuments of erudition inspired and facilitated by this decisive period of development in Christian archaeology are the Dictionnaire d’archéologie chrétienne et de liturgie (15 volumes, 1907–53), founded by the Benedictine monk Fernand Cabrol (1855–1937) but brought to completion by Henri Leclercq (1869–1945), and Franz Joseph Dölger’s (1879–1940) periodical Antike und Christentum (continued from 1958 by the Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum).10 Although these works did not characterize their enterprises as “material culture,” they used the material evidence unearthed by archaeologists along with texts in order to provide an interdisciplinary reconstruction of early Christian belief and practice. Another discipline that contributed to the emergence of material culture studies is art history. Although the earliest steps toward the study of art as cultural history were taken by Johann Joachim Winckelmann (1717– 68) in his later work on allegories and emblems in ancient Greek and Roman art, the establishment of this area of study in the nineteenth-century universities was critical in furthering cultural approaches. Some of the pioneers of iconography—Adolphe Napoléon Didron (1806–67), Émile Mâle (1862–1954)—were French Catholics dedicated to explicating the connections between medieval religious art and theology, concentrating particularly on Gothic cathedrals as expressions of scholasticism. But the theoretical foundations of iconography owe more to the work of the German art historians Aby Warburg (1866–1929) and Erwin Panofsky 9. Succeeded after G. B. de Rossi’s death in 1895 by the Nuovo bullettino di archeologia cristiana and then by the Pontificia Commissione di archeologia sacra’s Rivista di archeologia cristiana from 1924 to the present. 10. Frend, Archaeology of Early Christianity, pp. 35–36, 77–84, 108–69, 213–14, 325; a good, brief critical overview of the development of Christian archaeology is Kim Bowes, “Early Christian Archaeology: A State of the Field,” History Compass, 2 (2008), 575–619. 6 INTRODUCTION: MATERIAL CULTURE AND CATHOLIC HISTORY (1892–1968), both from wealthy Jewish families. Warburg’s broad visual interests prefigure those of material culture: he studied not only masterpieces, such as Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, but also everyday images on postage stamps, in newspaper illustrations, and in photographs.11 Warburg also points to the origins within the historical discipline of interest in material sources. Early in his studies Warburg was attracted to the “new history” of Karl Lamprecht (1856–1915), an attempt to break out of the strictly political focus of academic history in Germany through Kulturgeschichte. Lamprecht had studied not only history and philosophy but also art history, and in his works he treated art and artifacts as aspects of culture to be investigated impartially along with society, economy, law, literature, and folkways. He also used artistic styles—the Symbolic, Typical, Conventional, Subjectivistic, and the Impressionistic—to structure the periodization of his Deutsche Geschichte.12 This integration of art into grand theories of the evolution of civilization appealed to Warburg.13 Lamprecht’s premier work, Deutsches Wirtschaftsleben im Mittelalter, even used the phrase material culture in its descriptive subtitle: Untersuchungen über die Entwicklung der materiellen Kultur des platten Landes auf Grund der Quellen, zunächst des Mosellandes.14 This notion of material culture, however, was far broader than the meaning of the phrase dominant today: it included topography, natural resources, settlement, patterns of landholding, social organization, and legal institutions.15 Lamprecht disastrously fell from academic grace when vanquished during the Methodenstreit, a controversy within the German historical discipline in the 1890s between advocates of Kulturgeschichte and defenders of the orthodox conception of history focused on politics and the state. But social and economic history had established itself in the university curricu- 11. Aby Warburg, “Sandro Botticelli’s Birth of Venus and Spring,” in The Renewal of Pagan Antiquity: Contributions to the Cultural History of the European Renaissance, ed. Kurt W. Forster, trans. David Britt, [Getty Research Institute Texts and Documents], (Los Angeles, 1999), pp. 89–156; E. H. Gombrich, Aby Warburg: An Intellectual Biography (Chicago, 1970; 2nd ed. 1986), pp. 19–24, 263–69; Michael Ann Holly, Panofsky and the Foundations of Art History (Ithaca, NY, 1984), pp. 26–42, 110–12, 161–67. 12. Roger Chickering, Karl Lamprecht. A German Academic Life (1856–1915) (Atlantic Highlands, NJ, 1993), pp. 37–54, 87–94, 117–20. 13. Gombrich, Aby Warburg, pp. 30–37. 14. Karl Lamprecht, Deutsches Wirtschaftsleben im Mittelalter. Untersuchungen über die Entwicklung der materiellen Kultur des platten Landes auf Grund der Quellen, zunächst des Mosellandes, 3 vols. (Leipzig, 1885–86). 15. Chickering, Karl Lamprecht, pp. 75–76, 81–83. MAUREEN C. MILLER 7 lum and continued to develop interest in material artifacts such as coins and fortifications. In the interwar period, socioeconomic history in France spawned a more enduring challenge to the dominance of politics and the state within historical research: the foundation in 1929 of the journal the Annales d’histoire économique et sociale by Marc Bloch (1886–1944) and Lucien Febvre (1878–1956). The journal’s critiques of traditional historical writing and methodology, as well as the capacious interests and goals of the founders, went well beyond advocacy for social and economic history, and in 1946 its title was broadened to that which it still bears today: Annales: Economies, sociétés, et civilisations. The Annales school championed an inclusive view of the past. History should investigate all parts of society and all aspects of human experience; it should aspire to histoire totale.16 The rise of the Annales most directly contributed to the emergence of material culture in two ways. First, under the leadership of Fernand Braudel (1902–85) in the postwar era, the material conditions structuring human existence came to the fore as well as an emphasis on ordinary people and everyday life. This notion of the material, although not as capacious as Lamprecht’s, was still broad, encompassing the physical landscape, food and clothing, shelter, furnishings, and tools and implements of all sorts. The emphasis on economic history and the quotidian generated immense interest in consumption and, to the degree that such studies considered the things consumed, strongly shaped the study of material culture in the modern period.17 Although much of Braudel’s own work—even his Les Structures du Quotidien: Le Possible et L’Impossible published in 1979— 16. A very brief introduction to the Annales is in Martha Howell and Walter Prevenier, From Reliable Sources: An Introduction to Historical Methods (Ithaca, NY, 2001), pp. 110–18; for an appreciative history, see François Dosse, New History in France: The Triumph of the Annales, trans. Peter V. Conroy Jr. (Urbana, 1994), pp. 7–36 (esp. pp. 32–33); for a more critical view, see André Burguière, L’École des Annales: Une histoire intellectuelle (Paris, 2006), esp. 23–33, 167–98; for a critical appraisal of the impact of the Annales on the history of Christianity, see John Van Engen, “The Christian Middle Ages as an Historiographical Problem,” American Historical Review, 91 (1986), 519–52. 17. Dosse, New History, pp. 89–90, 109–115, 144–46; Daniel Miller, Material Culture and Mass Consumption (Oxford, 1987); Lisa Jardine, Worldly Goods: A New History of the Renaissance (New York, 1996); Michael Ashkenazi and John Clammer, Consumption and Material Culture in Contemporary Japan (London, 2000); Martin Daunton and Matthew Hilton, eds., The Politics of Consumption: Material Culture and Citizenship in Europe and America (Oxford, 2001); Robert Ross, Marja Hinfelaar, and Iva Pesa, eds., The Objects of Life in Central Africa: The History of Consumption and Social Change, 1840–1980 (Leiden, 2013); Isabelle de Solier, Food and the Self: Consumption, Production and Material Culture (London, 2013); Christina J. Hodge, Consumerism and the Emergence of the Middle Class in Colonial America (New York, 2014). 8 INTRODUCTION: MATERIAL CULTURE AND CATHOLIC HISTORY relied on references to objects in textual sources with a limited recourse to archaeological finds and surviving objects, the new historical status accorded food, housing, tools, and transport fueled the development of postclassical archaeology, numismatics, historic textiles, museums of technology, and other specialized fields devoted to the study of material artifacts.18 Second, the Annales movement contributed to more interdisciplinary work in history and, in particular, fostered borrowings from anthropology. Since the nineteenth century historians had engaged work in the emerging social sciences of economics and sociology—particularly the work of Karl Marx (1818–83), Max Weber (1864–1920), and Émile Durkheim (1858–1917)—but the “new social history” inspired by the Annales brought them into contact with the methods of anthropology through Claude Lévi-Strauss (1908–2009), Clifford Geertz (1926–2006), and Victor Turner (1920–83).19 All of these streams of development—within anthropology, art history, archaeology, and history—came together in the interdisciplinary climate of the 1970s and 1980s to produce the field of material culture studies. Object-focused work by Anglophone historians at first favored the descriptions “material history,” “material life,” or “material civilization.”20 But the term derived from anthropology and already dominant in French and German—material culture (culture matérielle, materiellen Kultur)— came to rule in the 1990s, a decade that also witnessed the foundation of 18. See, for example, Christopher Gerrard, Medieval Archaeology: Understanding Traditions and Contemporary Approaches (London, 2003), pp. 128–32; The Archaeology of Medieval Europe, ed. James Graham–Campbell and Magdalena Valor, 2 vols. (Aarhus, 2008–11), 1:20–23; the Bulletin de liaison du Centre international d’étude des textiles anciens was founded in 1955 and dramatically increased in size and sophistication over the 1980s and into the 1990s. 19. The classic example, of course, is Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie, Montaillou, village occitan de 1294 à 1324 (Paris, 1975); Howell and Prevenier, From Reliable Sources, pp. 89–99; Burguière, L’École des Annales, pp. 169–84, 231–35. 20. One translation of Braudel’s Civilisation, materielle et capitalisme by Miriam Kochan (New York, 1973) rendered the title Capitalism and Material Life, 1400–1800, and American historians have tended to prefer these terms: Robert Blair St. George, ed., Material Life in America, 1600–1860 (Boston, 1988); J. Ritchie Garrison, Landscape and Material Life in Franklin County, Massachusetts, 1770–1860 (Knoxville, 1991); Bernard L. Herman, Town House: Architecture and Material Life in the Early American City, 1780–1830 (Chapel Hill, 2005). An early journal dedicated to the subject, founded in 1976 by the History Division of the Canadian Museum of Civilization and the National Museum of Science and Technology, illustrates the Anglophone preference in this period: its English title was Material History Bulletin and in French Bulletin d’histoire de la culture matérielle (continued by Material History Review. Revue de la culture matérielle from 1991). MAUREEN C. MILLER 9 the Journal of Material Culture (1996–) and self-conscious manifestos.21 Material culture had arrived. Approaches, Strengths, and Weaknesses Some of the dominant approaches to material culture are well illustrated in this issue. One is the object study or “biography” of an object, represented here by William B. Taylor’s and Liam Matthew Brockey’s essays.22 This approach starts with a single object and moves from basic questions to the exploration of the broader subjects of cultural ideas, values, and practices. The basic questions encourage detailed analysis. What is it? Who made it and for what purposes? What materials were used in making it, and why were these chosen rather than others? How and why has it come down to us? Did it change over time (that is, were things added to it or is there evidence of removals)? The single-source starting point particularly recommends this approach to students and teachers, and several guides to doing object biographies can be found online: an excellent example, produced by the National Museum of American History’s “The Object of History” project, is at http://objectofhistory.org/guide. Perhaps particularly useful for historians is an article in the American Historical Association’s Perspectives in its May/June 1991 issue in which Susan Stuard and several of her colleagues at Haverford College shared their “Artifact Assignment” in a required junior “Seminar on Evidence.”23 Taylor’s contribution to this issue—on “An ‘Evolved’ Devotional Book from Late-Eighteenth-Century Mexico”—well illustrates the technique. Although many object biographies take unusual artifacts as their subjects, Taylor’s focus is a traditional historical source: a book. But his analysis attends to its physical, material characteristics. The scuffed leather and boards of its calfskin binding and repairs to its endpapers attest to its 21. Asa Berger, “Conclusion: The Ghost in the Machine,” in Reading Matter: Multidisciplinary Perspectives on Material Culture (New Brunswick, NJ, 1992), pp. 131–36; Henry Glassie, Material Culture (Bloomington, IN, 1999); Gerald L. Pocius, Introduction, in Living in a Material World, pp. xiii–xix. 22. Igor Kopytoff, “The Cultural Biography of Things: Commoditization as Process,” in The Social Life of Things: Commodities in Cultural Perspective, ed. Arjun Appadurai (New York, 1986), pp. 64–94; Chris Gosden and Yvonne Marshall, “The Cultural Biography of Objects,” World Archaeology, 31 (1999), 169–78. 23. Margaret Schaus, John Spielman, and Susan Stuard, “Introducing Undergraduates to Manuscript Research,” Perspectives on History, May/June 1991, http://www.historians.org/ publications-and-directories/perspectives-on-history/may-1991/introducing-under graduates-to-manuscript-research. 10 INTRODUCTION: MATERIAL CULTURE AND CATHOLIC HISTORY use over time. Its small, pocket size suggests a devotional book meant to be carried easily and turned to in various settings. Most interestingly, things were added to it—written and pasted into it—offering the historian clues to who owned it and what their devotional practices and ideas were. From these specific pieces of evidence in this material object’s evolution, Taylor moves outward to the histories of imported religious books and literacy, of lay devotional communities, and of Catholic reform movements in earlymodern Spanish America. The material aspects of this book show how believers altered devices meant to reform their devotions by incorporating elements of precisely those religious practices ecclesiastical leaders were trying to vanquish. A different example of this approach is provided by Brockey’s essay on the relics of Francis Xavier in early-modern Asia.24 The object in this case is the body of the sixteenth-century Jesuit missionary who preached the gospel in Mozambique, India, Indonesia, Japan, and China. Brockey traces, in the exquisite detail afforded by Jesuit correspondence, how the body did and did not change: what was done to it after death, the perceived evidence for its incorrupt state, and the pieces removed both through exuberant veneration and official mandate. The human uses of a human body are the focus as well as the ideas and beliefs informing those uses. We learn how Portuguese merchants brought it first from Schangchuan Island to Malacca, then on to Goa; how it was received by the residents of Goa, how the Jesuits conserved and exhibited it there; and how they preached and wrote about it. The meanings of this corporal object, in Brockey’s analysis, turn out to be far more localized than the far-flung travels of the saint might suggest. As Brockey’s essay well illustrates, one strength of the object biography is the opportunities it provides for captivating historical narrative. It is often said that objects tell stories, and they certainly can furnish historians with material for innovative storytelling. Some of the stimulus is in describing complex artifacts, but more often it is the new perspective on written sources that the object affords. Both are evident in Richard L. Williams’s cultural biography of a “subversive playing card.” The object itself—a sixteenth-century three of hearts—had an unexpected image on its reverse: a Crucifixion group with the Blessed Virgin and St. John the Evangelist flanking Christ on the cross, painted simply and inexpertly 24. Still today an object of fascination and controversy: Steve Vickers, “All That Remains,” Washington Post, August 17, 2014, F01. MAUREEN C. MILLER 11 using only a few colors: brown, green, red, and yellow. Why would a religious image be on the back of a playing card? The other oddity of the card was that its top had been cut to a rounded arch, which suggested a shape similar to images in home altar triptychs. Fascinated by the paper object and why it had been preserved, the historian looked to the archival sources with new questions. A letter from the lieutenant of the Tower of London, in fact, identified the object as evidence found in the possession of one of the Duke of Norfolk’s men, Richard Lowther. According to the jailor, it showed “the lewdness of his religion.” Williams traces Lowther’s relationship with the Duke of Norfolk and his role in the Catholic plot in 1569 to depose Queen Elizabeth I and place her cousin Mary, Queen of Scots, on the throne. But he also takes us inside the homes and devotional lives of other Elizabethan Catholics to understand why a playing card—why, in particular, the three of hearts—would have been refashioned into an individual shrine. In the end, he tells a story about how religious imagery took on seditious meanings.25 A variant of the object biography is to consider a type or genre of object. This sort of study can be limited to a specific corpus of examples, as in Katherine Haas’s study of nineteenth-century American liturgical vestments. She defined a group of ninety-five vestments securely dated to the nineteenth century from eight institutions in Pennsylvania, Maryland, Indiana, and Washington, DC. To evaluate whether the patterns revealed in her sample of artifacts were valid, she compared them to those in sales catalogs of firms vending vestments in the United States.26 In earlier periods where survivals are more limited, one can attempt more comprehensive analyses. To keep with the example of vestments, my own recent study of 25. Richard L. Williams, “Contesting the Everyday: The Cultural Biography of a Subversive Playing Card,” in Everyday Objects: Medieval and Early Modern Material Culture and Its Meanings, ed. Tara Hamling and Catherine Richardson (Farnham, UK, 2010), pp. 241– 56, here p. 242. Other examples of objects that have been studied in this fashion are Constantine’s battle standard: Hallie G. Meredith, “Christianizing Constantine: Eusebius’ Vita Constantini as a Late Antique Social Canvas,” in Objects in Motion: The Circulation of Religion and Sacred Objects in the Late Antique and Byzantine World, ed. Hallie G. Meredith, [BAR International Series 2247], (Oxford, 2011), pp. 7–22; a carved Paiwan cross in Taiwan: Chang-Kwo Tan, “Syncretic Objects: Material Culture of Syncretism among Taiwan Catholics, Taiwan,” Journal of Material Culture, 7 (2002), 167–89; the “touchdown Jesus” mural at Notre Dame University: Margaret M. Grubiak, “Visualizing the Modern Catholic University: The Original Intentions of ‘Touchdown Jesus’ at the University of Notre Dame,” Material Religion, 6 (2010), 336–68. 26. Katherine Haas, “The Fabric of Religion: Vestments and Devotional Catholicism in Nineteenth-Century America,” Material Religion, 3 (2007), 190–217, esp. 193, 213n1. 12 INTRODUCTION: MATERIAL CULTURE AND CATHOLIC HISTORY medieval liturgical attire, although not exhaustive, was able to encompass a large number of the surviving garments from throughout Europe before 1200 compared to all the images of vested clerics for the period in the Index of Christian Art and an array of written sources, particularly canon law.27 Other recent examples of studies focused on a genre of objects are Cynthia Hahn’s beautifully illustrated book on reliquaries from 400 to 1204, Crispin Paine’s article on portable altars, Anne L. Clark’s essay on the “Veronica,” and Elín Luque Agraz’s book on painted ex-votos of the Virgin of Soledad.28 Caroline Bynum’s contribution to this issue on nuns’ crowns, moreover, shows how this approach can succeed with brilliant results in periods where both material and textual survivals are more abundant. Focusing on a type of object that is mentioned in texts and produced in different media, Bynum not only explicates the many meanings crowns had for religious women but also traces change in the forms of crowns across a critical period of reform. When forced by an Observant reforming delegation in 1469 to relinquish the removable gold crowns that adorned their statues of the Blessed Virgin, the nuns of Wienhausen had statues made whose crowns could not be removed. The difference in these surviving objects is crucial evidence. One might read the written accounts of this reform and conclude that the nuns accepted the reformers’ correction of their devotions and stopped crowning their images of the Madonna. And inventories usually do not describe objects like statues with enough detail to capture this change. Only the objects themselves tell this story. By casting her evidentiary net broadly—considering material crowns, painted crowns, textual notices, and descriptions of crowns—Bynum demonstrates how deeply meaningful crowns and crowning were to late-medieval religious women and how reforms, even the Reformation, were tenaciously resisted and the cause of considerable spiritual anguish. 27. Maureen C. Miller, Clothing the Clergy: Virtue and Power in Medieval Europe, c. 800–1200 (Ithaca, NY, 2014), pp. 5–8. My study of episcopal residences also sought a comprehensive view, but within more limited geographical bounds (northern Italy, from late antiquity through the thirteenth century): Maureen C. Miller, The Bishop’s Palace: Architecture and Authority in Medieval Italy (Ithaca, NY, 2000), pp. 7–8, 261–76. 28. Cynthia Hahn, Strange Beauty: Issues in the Making and Meaning of Reliquaries, 400–circa 1204 (University Park, PA, 2012); Crispin Paine, “The Portable Altar in Christian Tradition and Practice,” in Meredith, ed., Objects in Motion, pp. 25–42; Anne L. Clark, “Venerating the Veronica: Varieties of Passion Piety in the Later Middle Ages,” Material Religion, 3 (2007), 164–89; Elín Luque Agraz, El arte de dar gracias: los exvotos pictóricos de la Virgen de la Soledad de Oaxaca (Mexico, 2007). MAUREEN C. MILLER 13 As Bynum’s study illustrates, an important advantage of focusing on a genre or type of artifact is that it offers greater scope for the analysis of change over time. It is not, of course, impossible to explore historical change in the biography of a single object. The “evolved” character of the object chosen by Taylor, for example, yields evidence related to broad changes in devotional practices in early-modern Mexico. One can also use known historical patterns of change over time to contextualize a single object. So a historian writing the biography of a reliquary bust could contextualize it within the broader patterns discerned by Hahn in Strange Beauty. But many studies focused on a single object illuminate only a single moment in time. As with “micro-history,” the approach can be immensely rewarding and yield new insights into a particular historical period or event. But the field of material culture studies is also littered with underdeveloped object biographies that clearly began life as a conference paper and were published without sufficient deepening and revision: many lack the rich historical contextualization necessary to establish the significance of the object and of the author’s observations about it. What I have found particularly stimulating about researching developments in an entire class of objects is that it allows comparison of changes over time in textual, visual, and material sources. Only looking at the material remains of episcopal residences, for example, revealed that documentary changes in their description did not necessarily mean a new or different structure and the gap between new language and a new building could be considerable. In looking at ecclesiastical garments, however, the documentary evidence of inventories accorded with the material evidence of surviving textiles in identifying a significant stylistic change in the late-eighth/early-ninth century, whereas visual representations of clerics wearing such garb lag by a half-century to more than two centuries.29 Such discrepancies can be quite historically significant. Colleen McDannell’s essay on “Photography, Teenie Harris, and the Migration of Catholic Images” reveals still other rewarding approaches to material culture as well as exciting research and pedagogical opportunities for the modern and contemporary history of Catholicism. She focuses her study on a collection of sources—the photographs of the twentieth-century African American photojournalist, Teenie Harris—and analyzes its evidence of the kinds of objects depicted, who was shown with them, and the ways in which people placed and used objects. This is an approach that can 29. Miller, The Bishop’s Palace, pp. 89–97; Miller, Clothing the Clergy, pp. 96–97, 108– 09, 115, 120–21, 130–37. 14 INTRODUCTION: MATERIAL CULTURE AND CATHOLIC HISTORY be used with many kinds of collections. One could analyze, for example, the content of a diocesan museum’s collection. What kinds of Catholic artifacts does it contain? Whose objects (individuals or institutions) were they, and how did they find their way to the museum? What beliefs and practices do they attest? Whose objects are not represented and why? Collections of texts can also reveal the material. How do objects figure in a given collection of letters, of court records, of short stories? McDannell here mines photographic collections, but her techniques could be applied to collections of woodblock prints, manuscript illuminations, or paintings. It is worth noting at this point that although the study of material culture prioritizes research on material artifacts—the most primary of sources in this field—it is also enriched through analyses of representations, textual and visual, of materiality. Literary specialists within the interdisciplinary field of material culture studies take this as their primary focus, and some intellectual and cultural historians do, too. For most historians, however, as for McDannell here, the instinct is to move from representation— African Americans pictured with crucifixes—to what can be known from other historical sources about African American Catholics in Pittsburgh, about the parish of St. Benedict the Moor, and about other evidence for how crucifixes were used. Particularly for students, McDannell’s essay is valuable for demonstrating how one moves from something odd or surprising in a source to a set of historical questions and issues that are fertile ground for further research. The article also ventures into the rapidly developing field of new media. Although the Teenie Harris photography collection exists as a physical body of sources in the Carnegie Museum of Art, it also now exists virtually online as a searchable collection of digitized images. As McDannell points out, libraries, archives, state historical societies, and government agencies are rapidly digitizing their photographic archives and making them freely available on the Internet. Although her essay reveals the limitations of some of the cataloguing identifications, the record information digitized with each photograph makes it possible to search systematically for objects, individuals, and places. In addition to facilitating access to photographic archives, the digital revolution has also fostered research in material culture through online, searchable museum catalogues. A leader in this regard is the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, whose collection of more than a million objects can be searched via the Internet by collection, material, type, provenance, and date. Enter, for example, “monstrance,” and within seconds you have forty-one examples from the fourteenth to the nineteenth century that can be further sorted by material MAUREEN C. MILLER 15 (gold, silver, silver-gilt), technique (casting, embossing, gilding), and provenance (mostly Spanish and German). Pictures are available online for close to half of the records, and most include extensive historical notes with acquisition information and bibliography. Most major collections, particularly in the United States, are putting their catalogs online and contain thousands of material objects related to Catholic belief and practice. Hopefully, diocesan museums will follow this trend. Two strengths of material approaches to religion are also evident in McDannell’s article. First is the evidence she presents for the “migration” of objects: how material items created in one faith tradition can be picked up and used in different religious settings by people with quite different beliefs. This mobility of the object allows appropriation and reinterpretation of religious artifacts, but it also enables the historian to trace and evaluate religious influence. Although historians are accustomed to charting the intellectual heritage of Catholicism, material culture offers important tools in understanding its devotional impact. The mobility of objects also underscores that the boundaries between different Christian churches or communities are more fluid than sometimes conceived or depicted. Conversion is not the only response to contact with a faith tradition. A second, and related, strength evident in McDannell’s essay is the light material culture can shed on underrepresented actors in Catholic history. Harris’s photos invite us to consider a minority population, not only in American society but also within the American Catholic Church. The image of a crucifix in an African American home prompts the historian to wonder what percentage of American Catholics was black and what their experience was. The emergence of material culture studies, as I’ve suggested above, was related to the Annalistes’ advocacy for an inclusive approach to the past, of which the recovery of nonelite religious experiences, practices, and beliefs was a vibrant part. My own turn to material culture, in fact, was motivated by interest in the secular clergy, but particularly the average parish priest in medieval Europe. Architecture did not get me too far down the social spectrum. There turned out to be very little documentary, and even less physical, evidence of the living quarters of clerics below the level of cathedral canons and bishops. But vestments took me a lot further into the culture of average clerics, even that of the minor orders, and even revealed clerical devotional practices not mentioned in any written sources. The most intriguing material evidence was of “reliquary” vestments—that is, liturgical garments believed to belong to a holy cleric that were worn in his memory by fellow clerics and, as the garments disintegrated, either repaired to keep them wearable or the fragments were 16 INTRODUCTION: MATERIAL CULTURE AND CATHOLIC HISTORY imbedded within new vestments.30 Textile conservators were well aware of this phenomenon, but as a historian I had never encountered references to it in documents or studies. Just as it partakes of the virtues of history in the Annales tradition, so, too, work in material culture exhibits its vices. It can move beyond recuperating under-represented populations to overemphasizing the fringes. Do we need a history of “paint by numbers” versions of da Vinci’s Last Supper?31 Probably not. Like some studies of “popular religion”—recall Jean-Claude Schmitt’s Holy Greyhound about a dog “saint” in medieval France32—material culture has sometimes gravitated toward the margins. This is in part due to the importance of consumerism and consumption as themes within material culture studies.33 This emphasis when applied to religion tends to foreground kitsch at the expense of mainstream devotional artifacts. One could also accuse material culture studies of reinforcing the prominence of well-established fields. To a certain degree, contextualizing objects requires a developed historiography: the material remains of a monastery can more easily be your focus if there are already some published histories of the community, its benefactors, its patrimony, and its relations with ecclesiastical and political authorities. In compiling the introductory bibliography for this issue, I have attempted to provide an array of works across chronological and geographical fields, but the relatively balanced appearance of this selection does not represent the distribution of work thus far accomplished by historians on Catholic material culture. That work is much more abundant for Europe and North America, and within Europe more developed in the medieval and early-modern fields. A strong body of scholarship is emerging for Latin America, but thus far Asia and Africa have not received their due. More fundamental empirical research on the history of the Church in Ghana, Kenya, Korea, or Vietnam, for example, is surely needed before the material culture of these Catholic communities can be fruitfully explored. Still, material sources can con- 30. Miller, Clothing the Clergy, pp. 162–68. 31. Thomas Ryan and Lawrence Rubin, “By the Numbers: Material Spirituality and the Last Supper,” Spiritus: A Journal of Christian Spirituality, 2 (2002), 147–62. 32. Jean-Claude Schmitt, Le saint lévrier: Guinefort, guérisseur d’enfants depuis le XIII e siècle (Paris, 1979); English ed., The Holy Greyhound: Guinefort, Healer of Children since the Thirteenth Century, trans. Martin Thom (New York, 1983). 33. Kristin Schwain, “Visual Culture and American Religions,” Religion Compass, 4, no. 3 (2010), 190–201. MAUREEN C. MILLER 17 tribute to the global history of Catholicism as some pioneering studies have demonstrated.34 This special centennial celebration issue of The Catholic Historical Review cannot provide an exhaustive survey of the methods and practice of material culture studies. But it does offer an introduction to the field, four stimulating examples of its value as an approach to Catholic history, and points of entry for those interested in expanding both their own historical horizons and the purview of Catholic studies. The rich and varied material culture of Catholicism constitutes a valuable historical patrimony. It merits exploration in both teaching and writing the history of the Church. 34. Cécile Fromont, “Collecting and Translating Knowledge Across Cultures: Capuchin Missionary Images of Early Modern Central Africa, 1650–1750,” in Collecting Across Cultures: Material Exchanges in the Early Modern Atlantic World, ed. Daniela Bleichmar and Peter C. Mancall (Philadelphia, 2011), pp. 134–54; Wakakuwa Midori, “Iconography of the Virgin Mary in Japan and Its Transformation: Chinese Buddhist Sculpture and Maria Kannon,” in Christianity and Cultures: Japan & China in Comparison 1543–1644, ed. M. Antoni J. Üçerler, S.J., [Bibliotheca Instituti Historici S. I. 68], (Rome, 2009), pp 228–48. THE CATHOLIC HISTORICAL REVIEW VOL. 101 CENTENNIAL ISSUE 2015 NO. 2 Catholic Church History: One Hundred Years of the Discipline JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J.* This article provides a general survey of developments over the past 100 years in the study of the history of the Catholic Church. It therefore provides the context for the other contributions in the issue, which deal with particular epochs or cultures. Included in it, for instance, are listings and analyses of major instruments of research such as encyclopedias, descriptions of shifts in historical method, assessments of the impact upon historians of events like the First and the Second Vatican Councils, and discussions of the vocation of Catholic historians of the Church. Keywords: Annales, Concilium Tridentinum, Councils, history from below, infallibility, missions, modernism, Monumenta Historica S.J., neo-Thomism, Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, social history, Vatican Councils, women L ike other branches of the historian’s craft, the church historian’s role has in the past 100 years undergone significant changes, some occasioned in reaction to developments in general culture, others by changes most directly arising out of new perspectives introduced by practitioners themselves. Regarding The Catholic Historical Review (CHR), certain issues have arisen out of questions and problems peculiar to historians of the Catholic Church. In what follows, I describe the more important of these developments, sketch the context that gave rise to them, and indicate how both are reflected in the pages of the CHR. *Father O’Malley is University Professor in the Department of Theology at Georgetown University, email: jwo9@georgetown.edu. He expresses his gratitude to Professor Simon Ditchfield, University of York, for valuable criticisms and suggestions, and to Michael Donnay, who acted as a research assistant for a month while the author was preparing this article. 1 2 CATHOLIC CHURCH HISTORY The Background The humanists of the Italian Renaissance laid the foundations for the modern study of history. Petrarch (1304–74), the “father of humanism,” provided the first three building blocks.1 First, his keen awareness of the difference between the promise for the future of his own age through the recovery of the texts of antiquity (classical and Christian) and the “darkness” (tenebrae) of the previous age led eventually to the standard periodization of European history into ancient, medieval, and modern. Second, he conceived history as, on one level, “philosophy teaching by example”; that is, he subscribed to the assumption that history was a branch of moral philosophy in which ethical questions were raised through the presentation of historical examples of virtue and vice. By the judicious use of rhetorical devices, virtue was made attractive and vice repugnant. Besides being instructive, history was therefore meant to warn, to edify, and to inspire. Finally, by his call to historians to “return to the sources”—ad fontes!— he meant to purify history of legends and misconceptions by confronting them with hard documentary evidence. After Petrarch, other humanists such as Lorenzo Valla (1407–57) developed the philological and other tools needed for dealing critically with sources. In Valla’s Annotationes in novum testamentum, for instance, he compared the standard Latin text of the New Testament, the Vulgate, with Greek manuscripts and found it wanting. In his Declamatio, which showed from internal evidence that the Donation of Constantine was a forgery, he pioneered critical methods for approaching historical documents that became standard.2 Study of the history of the Church during this period was perforce influenced in its development by the rhetorical and critical approaches of 1. See, e.g., Myron P. Gilmore, Humanists and Jurists: Six Studies in the Renaissance (Cambridge, MA, 1963), esp. pp. 1–35. More broadly, see Arnaldo Momigliano, “The Introduction of History as an Academic Subject and Its Implications,” in The Golden and the Brazen World: Papers in Literature and History, ed. John M. Wallace (Berkeley, 1985), pp. 187–204. 2. See, e.g., Salvatore I. Camporeale, Lorenzo Valla: Umanesimo e teologia (Florence, 1972); Camporeale, Per una rilettura del “De falso credita donatione” del Valla: Umanesimo, chiesa e società nel ‘400 (Florence, 1988); and Brian P. Copenhaver, “Valla Our Contemporary: Philology and Philosophy,” Journal of the History of Ideas, 66 (2005), 507–25. See also Robert Black, “The Donation of Constantine: A New Source for the Concept of the Renaissance,” in Language and Images of Renaissance Italy, ed. Alison Brown (Oxford, 1995), pp. 51–85. JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J. 3 the humanists. As an identifiable discipline, church history most notably made its debut with the Magdeburg Centuries (1559–74) on the Protestant side and with Cesare Baronio’s Ecclesiastical Annals (1588–1607) on the Catholic side. In the former, Lutheran historians ransacked libraries and archives to prove that the Catholic Church had corrupted the Gospel and that Martin Luther had restored it, which gave further impetus to the tripartite periodization of Western history. For the Centuriators, history was instruction about the past but also polemics, a rhetorical enterprise. Baronio, on the contrary, used history to defend the Catholic Church against their attacks. History was apologetics, another rhetorical enterprise. These developments in the Renaissance and Reformation played out in various ways in the intervening centuries, but only in the nineteenth did history come fully into its own to become almost the defining discipline of the period. When the young Karl Marx said “We recognize only one science, the science of history,” he was speaking for his age.3 Historians accepted without question the tripartite division as well as the persuasion that the middle period was “dark.” They also accepted and significantly developed critical methods supposedly to arrive at “what really happened,” as Leopold von Ranke so famously put it. In so doing they wanted to distance themselves from history in the Hegelian mode. More important for our purposes, they wanted to distance themselves from rhetorical history for supposedly more objective and dispassionate analyses, but they found it difficult to do so. Church historians found it even more difficult than did others. The century saw an outpouring of church histories that tried to abandon apologetics and polemics, but on neither side of the confessional divide were such attempts altogether successful. For the leading historians of the era, Catholicism stood for obscurantism, superstition, repression, and retrogression. According to them, the Reformation and then the Enlightenment had tried to burst the chains of ignorance by which the Catholic Church held back the advance of liberty and critical thinking, but they had been only partly successful. Even conscientious historians who were not Catholic found it difficult to rise above the prejudices that in general culture were taken as self- 3. Quoted by Anton Weiler, “Church History and the Reorientation of the Scientific Study of History,” in Church History in Future Perspective, ed. Roger Aubert, [Concilium: Theology in the Age of Renewal 57], (New York, 1970), p. 14. 4 CATHOLIC CHURCH HISTORY evident facts.4 In this situation, Catholic authors, almost all of whom were priests, often felt cornered into a defensive and apologetic stance. They produced a number of general church histories. René François Rohrbacher’s twenty-nine-volume Histoire universelle de l’Église (1842–49) was the most exuberant of them.5 Slightly earlier was a more sober history by Johann Ignaz von Döllinger, translated into English in four volumes between 1840 and 1842.6 The history by Cardinal Joseph Hergenröther became best known, strangely enough, in its ten-volume French translation, Histoire de l’Église, (1880–92). At about the same time in France appeared the forty-four volumes of Joseph Epiphane Darras’s Histoire génerale de l’Église (1875–99). Nonetheless, German Lutherans led the field. As late as 1967, Peter Meinhold could write a two-volume history of ecclesiastical historiography in which he scarcely mentioned Catholic authors. He justified the slight by arguing that Catholics were bound by the principle concerning church teaching enunciated in the fifth century by Vincent of Lerins: “quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus.” Meinhold interpreted the axiom to mean that, for Catholics, the Church does not change. No change, no history! He thus could remove Catholic historians from serious consideration.7 Whether the idea of an unchanging Church really affected Catholics’ pursuit of church history is questionable, but two ecclesiastical events certainly did. The events also fed the prevailing prejudices about Catholicism. The first was the definition of papal infallibility in 1870 by the First Vatican Council. Just as an ultramontane reading of church history had provided support for the advocates of the definition, now in turn the definition further encouraged such a reading. Not all Catholic historians were in the ultramontane camp. When Döllinger, the leading Catholic historian of the period, refused to accept the definition, he was excommunicated by Gregor von Scherr, O.S.B., archbishop of Munich, an act that precipitated the formation of a Catholic church in schism from Rome. Most of those who joined that church at this 4. See, e.g., Marcello Fantoni and Chiara Continisio, ed., Catholicism as Decadence (Florence, 2008). 5. It was published again in more compact form in fifteen volumes (Paris, 1872–79). 6. Johannes Döllinger, A History of the Church, 4 vols., trans. Edward Cox (London, 1840–42). 7. See Peter Meinhold, Geschichte der kirchlichen Historiographie, 2 vols. (Freiburg and Munich, 1967), 1:156. JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J. 5 point were from the intelligentsia, with historians the largest single profession represented. Two thirds of Catholics teaching history in German universities became Old Catholics, “a disaster for the Roman Catholic study of history.”8 The second event was the condemnation of modernism in the decree of the Holy Office Lamentabili on July 3, 1907, and two months later in the encyclical of Pius X, Pascendi dominici, gregis. The so-called modernists hoped to reconcile the Church to what they considered the best in the intellectual culture of the day. Beyond that, it is difficult to find a common thread linking them. A generally but not universally accepted premise of the movement (if it can be called that), however, was the pervasiveness of change in the life and teaching of the Catholic Church and the need to take account of it — in other words, the need to take history seriously into account. For the sweep of its accusations, the accusatory style of its language, and especially the severity of its provisions, Pascendi had few, if any, precedents in documents emanating from the modern papacy. A veritable purge followed, in which scholars applying historical methods to their subject were often the victims. Nonetheless, in 1915, less than a decade after Pascendi, the first issue of the CHR appeared under the editorship of Thomas Joseph Shahan, who since 1909 had been rector (president) of the Catholic University of America and since 1914 auxiliary bishop of Baltimore. The Catholic Historical Review in Context Shahan introduced that first issue of the journal with the remarkable “Introductory: The Spirit of The Catholic Historical Review.” Writing just eight years after Lamentabili and Pascendi, he asserted that history “has come to be the testing ground or the clearing house of other scientific disciplines,” because all scholars agree that human history “must be swept into the great stream of evolutionary influence.” He went on: For the Christian theologian no less than for the Christian moralist, history urges its claims with ever-increasing insistence. Exegesis, doctrine, morals, law and liturgy have to a large extent lost their purely speculative character. . . . Whether he will or not, the Christian theologian of the present has to meet his opponents in the field of history. 8. Owen Chadwick, A History of the Popes, 1830–1914 (Oxford, 1998), p. 252. 6 CATHOLIC CHURCH HISTORY Of historians, Shahan observed that “the present demands [of them] hermeneutical powers rather than the mere capacity for research.”9 Finally, he expressed the hope that the new journal would take its place alongside distinguished journals that had already done so much to advance the study of history, such as the American Historical Review, the Revue Historique, the Byzantinische Zeitschrift, and the Bolletino di Archeologia Cristiana.10 The new journal was therefore conceived not as an instrument of Catholic apologetics but as a professional enterprise undertaken in conversation with the wider academy. Six years later, it happily reported that since its founding it had published articles by both Catholics and nonCatholics. We should not be surprised, therefore, to learn that as a student Shahan had heard lectures by Adolf von Harnack in Berlin and for a year in Paris those of Abbé Louis Duchesne, whose Histoire ancienne de l’Église was judged “modernist” and was in 1912 placed on the Index of Forbidden Books. We should be surprised, however, that with such an academic pedigree, surely not one in conformity with the mentality behind Lamentabili and Pascendi, he became the rector of the Catholic University of America, appointed just as the modernist purge was at its height. In 1925, a few American medievalists largely from the Boston area founded the Medieval Academy of America, which was located in Harvard University. The next year it began publication of its highly respected journal Speculum, and it elected Bishop Shahan as one of its first thirty fellows. With pride the CHR reported on the event.11 On December 30, 1919, the American Catholic Historical Association (ACHA) was organized in Cleveland, Ohio. In that inaugural meeting, Peter Guilday, the driving force behind the founding, set the tone for the ACHA in his presentation address.12 Guilday, a diocesan priest who held a doctorate from the University of Louvain, was now on the faculty of The Catholic University of America. 9. Thomas Joseph Shahan, “Introductory: The Spirit of the Catholic Historical Review,” The Catholic Historical Review (hereafter CHR), 1 (1915), 5–12, esp. 7–8. 10. Ibid., p. 10. 11. See CHR, 12 (1926–27). 12. Peter Guilday, “The American Catholic Historical Association,” CHR, 6 (1920– 21), 3–14. On Guilday, see David O’Brien, “Peter Guilday: The Catholic Intellectual in the Post-Modernist Church,” in Studies in Catholic History: In Honor of John Tracy Ellis, ed. Nelson H. Minnich et al. (Wilmington, DE, 1985), 260–306. The early pages of Philip Gleason’s article on American Catholicism in this collection also contain information about Guilday. JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J. 7 In the address he was profuse in his praise of the American Historical Association (AHA), the premier organization in the United States of professional historians in all fields. Guilday singled out J. Franklin Jameson, a former president of the AHA, who had encouraged the founding of the ACHA and offered advice on how to do so. Guilday believed that a new era of historical scholarship had begun in the United States with two events that had occurred within a year of each other: the opening of the Vatican archives in 1883 and the founding of the AHA in 1884. He also mentioned in passing but with seeming approval the founding in 1888 of the American Society of Church History, which, although Protestant in inspiration, had Catholics among its members. Altogether missing in Guilday’s address was any suggestion that Catholic historians needed to pursue their specialty in defiance of the broader culture. In 1919, the CHR became the official organ of the ACHA. Through the years the CHR, especially in the informative Notes and Comment section of each issue, showed the same openness to historians of different confessional backgrounds that Guilday exemplified, and it implicitly encouraged professional engagement with them. Moreover, although the original scope of the CHR was only the history of the Church in the United States, in 1921 it expanded to embrace every period and every aspect of church history from beginning to the present.13 Journals, Editions, and Encyclopedias Guilday was certainly correct in seeing a new era of historical scholarship gaining momentum in the last years of the nineteenth century and then continuing throughout the twentieth. Catholic history rode the waves of that momentum. Especially the first half of the twentieth century experienced a veritable explosion of critical editions of documents, the founding of new associations of church historians, the launching of new journals dedicated to Catholic history or to other aspects of Catholicism that had historical implications, the proliferation of multivolume church histories, and the publication of encyclopedias and large-scale dictionaries more or less historical in scope. With remarkable consistency, the CHR took note of these developments at their inauguration and often offered at least an implicit word of encouragement to them. 13. See “Retrospect and Prospect,” CHR, 7 (1921–22), 3–4. The article is signed by the managing editor, who at that time was Patrick W. Browne. 8 CATHOLIC CHURCH HISTORY In midcentury, two important surveys of these developments appeared, written by the two most distinguished Catholic historians of the era—the first by Hubert Jedin, professor of church history at the University of Bonn and the great expert on the Council of Trent.14 The second was by Roger Aubert, professor of church history at the Catholic University of Louvain, whose specialty was nineteenth-century Catholicism.15 Although slightly different in emphasis, both surveys are remarkable for the breadth and thoroughness of their coverage. Jedin considers more the undertakings of non-Catholics than does Aubert and provides information especially about multivolume church histories. Aubert concentrates on journals and other series, and for those publications is richer in the details than Jedin in both his main text and his copious footnotes. The two surveys are more than a half-century old. At just about the time they were written, the discipline of church history began undergoing further profound changes. Nonetheless, during the first fifty years of the century the founding of new journals, of new centers of research on different aspects of the Catholic past, and of new associations of scholars dealing with church history set the pattern for the future. It would be superfluous for me to try to repeat here information already provided by Jedin and Aubert. But I need to point out some of the more important developments and to give an indication of how the CHR responded to them. Of particular importance were the multivolume critical editions of religious texts. As early as 1834 appeared the first volume of the Corpus Reformatorum, an edition of the writings of John Calvin, Philipp Melanchthon, and Ulrich Zwingli that eventually reached 101 volumes. In 1883 appeared the first volume of the Weimar edition of Luther’s works. Catholics were eager to catch up. In 1876, for instance, German scholars founded the Görres Gesellschaft, a learned society dedicated to research on the Christian tradition. Through a full century the Gesellschaft sponsored the publication of the critical edition of the documents related to the Council of Trent, the indispensable Concilium Tridentinum (1901– 2001). In 1880, the year after Pope Leo XIII published Aeterni patris, his 14. See Hubert Jedin, “General Introduction to Church History,” in Handbook of Church History, 10 vols., ed. Hubert Jedin and John Dolan (New York, 1965–86), 1:1–56, here pp. 35–56. 15. See Roger Aubert, “Un demi-siècle de revues d’histoire ecclésiastique,” Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia, 14 (1960), 173–202. JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J. 9 important encyclical promoting the study of St. Thomas Aquinas, he established the Leonine Commission, whose task was to provide critical editions of Aquinas’s works. In 1894, the Jesuits published in Madrid the first volume of the correspondence of St. Ignatius, a project that developed into the impressive Monumenta Historica Societatis Iesu that has continued publication up to the present and contains over 155 volumes. The Leonine edition of Aquinas, the Tridentinum, and the Monumenta are simply early instances of a genre that historians will henceforth pursue earnestly. Much earlier, Jacques-Paul Migne, a diocesan priest and incredibly prolific publishing entrepreneur, was busy in Paris bringing forth monumental editions of different kinds of ecclesiastical texts. No other of these editions could compare in impact with his Patrologia. Divided into two parts, the Patrologia Latina (1844–64), a corpus of Latin Christian writings from the second to the thirteenth century, ran to 221 volumes, and the Patrologia Graeca (1856–66), a corpus of Greek writings (with facing Latin translations) from the late first century until 1439, ran to 162 volumes. The texts found in the Patrologia were far from being critically edited, and they abounded in problems, upon which scholars pounced with their customary glee.16 But we should not underestimate the great landmark these publications were when they appeared. For the first time scholars had at their disposal in easily accessible form a magnificent range of authors and texts, many of which they earlier could have consulted only in partial and widely scattered collections. Despite their title, Migne’s texts were not limited to the patristic era as it is conventionally understood, but stretched chronologically well beyond it. Now every library of any substance possessed these texts, not as rare books stored carefully away under lock and key but as resources sitting on open shelves. Meanwhile in Paris under the editorship of Duchesne had appeared in 1880 the first number of Bulletin critique, a magnificent bibliography of church historical import, and three years later from Brussels came the Analecta bollandiana, a journal dedicated to critical examination of the lives of the saints.17 Then in 1900 out of the University of Louvain came the landmark Revue d’histoire ecclésiastique, the first Catholic ecclesiastical history journal of note that covered the whole field. Its excellence was immediately recognized, as suggested by the fact that it was the inspiration for 16. See R. Howard Bloch, God’s Plagiarist: Being an Account of the Fabulous Industry and Irregular Commerce of the Abbé Migne (Chicago, 1995). 17. See CHR, 25 (1939–40), 120. 10 CATHOLIC CHURCH HISTORY the founding of the CHR and its early model. It was followed in 1907 by the Zeitschrift für schweitzerische Kirchengeschichte, and three years later by the Revue de l’histoire de l’Église en France. Then in 1915 the first issue of the CHR rolled off the press. Much later, in 1947, appeared Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia, with a distinguished editorial board of Italian scholars plus Hubert Jedin.18 It was followed in 1949 by the Archiv für mittelrheinische Kirchengeschichte. Then in 1980 the Istituto per le Scienze Religiose (now the Fondazione per le Scienze Religiose Giovanni XXIII), Bologna, began publication of Cristianesimo nella storia.19 More recently, the Morcelliana Press of Brescia launched in 2005 publication of Rivista di storia del Cristianesimo under the general direction of Girolamo Filoramo and Daniele Menozzi. Important English-language journals of non-Catholic inspiration have also appeared. In 1932 came Church History, the official organ of the American Society of Church History, an organization much older than the ACHA but that had up to that time lacked a journal.20 In 1950, a group of scholars in England founded the prestigious Journal of Ecclesiastical History, which the CHR greeted with two generous notices.21 In 2006, Brill began publication of Church History and Religious Culture, which was a continuation and refashioning of the venerable Nederlandsch Archief voor Kerkgeschiednis. Journals focusing on a particular aspect of Catholic history proliferated. The Revue d’histoire des Missions (1924) and the Neue Zeitschrift für Missionswissenschaft (1946) called attention to a neglected field. In 1957 from England came Recusant History, whose name was changed in 2015 to British Catholic History. In 1963, the faculty of ecclesiastical history of the Pontifical Gregorian University, Rome, inaugurated the Annuarium Historiae Pontificiae,22 and 1989 saw the first issue of Annuarium Historiae Conciliorum. In 1930, the Dominicans began their Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum, and two years later the Jesuits their Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu.23 The Franciscans had even earlier published several journals or series 18. See CHR, 34 (1948–49), 88, as well as the review of Cinquant’anni di vita della “Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia” (Rome, 2003), CHR, 92 (2006), 289–90. 19. See the informative notice in CHR, 67 (1981), 702–03. 20. See CHR, 18 (1932–33), 274. 21. See CHR, 36 (1950/51), 239, 339–40. 22. See CHR, 50 (1964–65), 529–30. 23. See CHR, 17 (1931–32), and CHR, 18 (1932–33), 128–29. JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J. 11 that had import for the history of the order. In 1950, the Augustinians published the first issue of Augustiniana, which the CHR described as “the only modern language magazine for the history of the entire Augustinian Order.”24 Other orders, large and small, began publishing periodicals dealing in a professional manner with subjects pertaining to their traditions, in which most articles concerned some aspect of the history of the order. In accord with the breadth of Shahan’s original vision, the CHR also kept its readers abreast of the publication of historical journals and series unrelated as such to Catholic history, as with the Journal of Modern History and Social Science Abstracts, both in 1929.25 It did the same for Catholic journals dedicated to liturgy, canon law, spirituality, and similar matters, most of which were heavily historical in their orientation. The CHR’s sensitivity to developments in every aspect of scholarship pertinent to Catholicism was therefore broad, as indicated by its long notice of the founding of the American Catholic Philosophical Society in 1926,26 by a similar notice twenty years later of the founding of the Catholic Theological Society of America,27 and in 1941 by a congratulatory welcome to The Jurist, a publication devoted to the study of canon law under the auspices of the School of Canon Law at the Catholic University of America.28 In the first half of the century, publication proliferated of large and ambitious encyclopedias, dictionaries, and other instruments to aid historical research and the diffusion of knowledge about almost every aspect of Catholic culture. On the Protestant side came the third edition of the highly respected twenty-four-volume Realencyclopädie für Protestantische Theologie und Kirche (1896–1913), followed later by the Catholic Lexikon für Theologie und Kirche (1930–38), with important later editions in 1957– 65 and 1993–2001.29 Meanwhile in the United States the fifteen volumes of The Catholic Encyclopedia appeared between 1907 and 1912 (index in 1914). That was before the birth of the CHR, but some years later the CHR published in 24. See CHR, 39 (1953–54), 481. In this notice are also described other publications by the Augustinians pertinent to the history of their order. 25. See CHR, 15 (1929–30), 115–16. 26. See CHR, 11 (1925–26), 762–63. 27. See CHR, 32 (1946–47), 395–96. 28. See CHR, 27 (1941–42), 114. 29. See CHR, 15 (1929–30), 482–83, and the long review of the first four volumes of the second edition, CHR, 46 (1960–61), 318–24, and then of the next three, CHR, 49 (1963–64), 214–18. 12 CATHOLIC CHURCH HISTORY its “Notes and Comment” section an assessment that was altogether positive. The Encyclopedia so impressed Protestants generally that they have practically all ceased to talk of Catholics as if they were illiterate. . . . with the Encyclopedia we are no longer in the position we were a quarter of a century ago, of having to complain about the erroneous things that were said against us, without having positive and authoritative statements on every subject connected with religion.30 In the eyes of the CHR, therefore, the Encyclopedia was, besides a monument of scholarship, an instrument of apologetics. In 1967, the faculty of The Catholic University of America reckoned an update was needed and published in fifteen volumes the New Catholic Encyclopedia. Supplementary volumes appeared later, and in 2002 a second edition. The twelve-volume Italian counterpart to these ventures, the Enciclopedia Cattolica, was published out of Vatican City (1948–54) under the general editorship of Cardinal Giuseppe Pizzardo.31 By far the most ambitious Catholic project along this line was the great Encyclopédie des sciences ecclésiastiques, an enterprise that comprised five distinct parts: (1) Dictionnaire de la Bible, five volumes in ten, 1912– 26; (2) Dictionnaire de théologie catholique, fifteen volumes in thirty, 1908– 50; (3) Dictionnaire d’archéologie chrétienne et de liturgie, fifteen volumes in thirty, 1907–53; (4) Dictionnaire de droit canonique, seven volumes, 1935– 65; (5) and the great Dictionnaire d’histoire et de géographie ecclésiastiques, 1912–, still in course of publication, thirty volumes to date. The CHR grasped the seriousness and import of the project and in 1929–30 reported on the progress of each of the parts.32 In 1947 appeared the first volume of the projected seven-volume Catholicisme: Hier, aujourd’hui, demain that eventuated in fifteen volumes, the last of which was published only in 2000. A two-volume index followed in 2006–09. Like similar projects, Catholicisme contains a great deal of historical information but goes far beyond what is normally considered church history. Nonetheless, this further information can be of essential importance for the historian. 30. See CHR, 12 (1926–27), 170–72. 31. See CHR, 18 (1932–33), 335–39, and CHR, 41 (1955–56), 442–45. 32. See CHR, 15 (1929–30), 340–41. JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J. 13 The Biographisch-Bibliographisches Kirkenlexikon, currently up to 2012’s volume 33 (1975–), is a more recent project of great utility and great ambition. In 1997, the Evangelische Kirchenlexikon achieved such a high standard that translation into English in five volumes under the title The Encyclopedia of Christianity began almost immediately. As the distinguished English church historian Owen Chadwick put it in a review in the CHR, “The articles are short, though not superficial, and clear-headed.”33 Because of their excellence, three specialized series deserve mention: the Dictionnaire de spiritualité, seventeen volumes in twenty-one (1937–95); the Biblioteca sanctorum, twelve volumes (1961–69, plus an index, 1970) and later three supplementary volumes—1987, 2000, and 2013—as well as two volumes dedicated to saints of the Eastern churches (1998–99); and the Dizionario degli Istituti di Perfezione, ten volumes (1974–2003).34 In 1994, Philippe Levillain edited a Dictionnaire historique de la papauté, later published in three volumes in English in 2002 as The Papacy: An Encyclopedia. In it, scholars will find entries on a wide range of topics, including, for instance, papal animals, papal chefs, papal tombs, and papal castrati. Meanwhile, smaller dictionaries and encyclopedias continued to appear in significant numbers up to the present. Of special utility for English-speaking readers has been the one-volume Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, first edition 1957, most recent edition 2005.35 It would be tedious, however, to try to list even the most important of such publications. Now that access to much of the information conventionally supplied by such publications is easily available on the Internet, the future of the genre seems uncertain. Nonetheless, in 2011, Wiley-Blackwell published in four volumes The Encyclopedia of Christian Civilization. Under the editorship of George Thomas Kurian, the volumes trace the whole history of Christianity, as expressed in the widest possible areas, including, of course, theology and philosophy but also science, architecture, festivals, human rights, and so forth. In the meantime, publishers have devised the new genre of “companion” to a given historical topic, that is, a collection of studies presenting the current state of research. As early as 2004, Blackwell, for instance, already listed twenty-four titles in its series titled Blackwell Companions to European History, but by 2014, Oxford University Press listed no fewer than 33. CHR, 92 (2006), 629–30, here 629. 34. See, e.g., the positive review of volume 5, CHR, 66 (1980), 429–30. 35. See CHR, 44 (1958–59), 165–68, for a positive review of the first edition. 14 CATHOLIC CHURCH HISTORY forty-three companions/handbooks in religion and theology, each of which contains copious bibliographies. Developments in Method Access to information on the Internet is only a surface symptom of profound changes relative to the discipline of church history that have occurred over the past 100 years. The changes, although underway for decades, became particularly noticeable around the 1960s and have somewhat accelerated in the past twenty years or so. An obvious one, seemingly superficial but of special import for a church with global claims, is the ease and speed of international travel compared with a half-century ago. Conferences with an international roster of participants is today a given. The result for Catholic history has been the emergence of both a sharper sense of particularity within a global church and a similarly sharper sense of values and issues that define Catholicism by cutting across nations and cultures. This sharper global awareness has been reflected in changing perspectives on what used to be called mission history. As that field has been more closely integrated into political, economic, and other histories, the European side of the missionary impulse has received greater treatment, with attention to the European sources of funding, for instance, and the effect the letters of missionaries and the artifacts they sent home had on those who received them. Thus the Latin American missions form part of the relatively new field of Atlantic history. Another obvious shift for Catholic history has been the gradual ascendancy of lay scholars displacing the quasi-monopoly of clerics. The masthead of the first issue of the CHR listed not only Bishop Shahan as editorin-chief but also five priests as the only associate editors. In the first year of the journal, thirteen of the articles were by clerics, only four by laymen, and one by a laywoman. On the current masthead the editor is a layman, and clerics are a decided minority among the other editors. For several decades the vast majority of articles and book reviews have been by lay scholars. Not simply an interesting sociological fact, this shift in authorship raises questions about how the discipline is pursued. Laypersons bring different sensibilities to bear on religious questions and have had a style of education different from clerics. Generally lacking in their education is training in technical disciplines such as theology and canon law, often crucial for understanding certain issues. Generally present, however, is a keener sense of the broader historical context, often crucial for understanding the significance of church events. Loss and gain perhaps, but certainly change. JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J. 15 If there has been a shift from clerical leadership to lay, there has also been an almost seismic increase in the number of women writing on church history, a reflection of a larger phenomenon in scholarship and in culture at large. Women’s history has finally emerged and seems to be on the way to the prominence it deserves, perhaps nowhere more justly than in the history of the Catholic Church. Despite the pervasive patriarchal culture of the Church (if I may use the still-current jargon), women have played a more important role in Catholic history than in any other Christian body. Yet this crucial aspect of the history of the Church rested peacefully inert until a few decades ago. It is often correctly observed, for instance, that nuns built the Catholic culture of the United States, yet the Catholic story has until recently been told principally from the perspective of priests and bishops. To the credit of the ACHA and the CHR, women have had a place, howsoever small, in both institutions from the beginning. Ten women participated in the first meeting of the ACHA in 1920, and at it Sr. Agnes McCann, ahead of her times, read a paper on “Religious Orders of Women in the United States.” As mentioned, the first issue of the CHR contained an article by a laywoman. These numbers may seem minuscule, but they compare favorably with other professional organizations of the times. To mention women’s history suggests an even larger change in perspective, from great men and great events—history “from above”—to social history, to history from the ground up. This change has yielded rich results for Catholic history, with its sprawling number of important institutions only loosely associated with the hierarchy—confraternities and sodalities, religious orders of both men and women, including third orders, cathedral chapters, shrines, and pilgrim sites—to name only the most obvious. Each of these institutions, whether local or part of a network, had its own traditions, its own role in the Church, and its own jealously defended rights and privileges. The Council of Trent spent years trying to improve the pastoral effectiveness of parishes, leaving the impression that parishes were at the time the center of Catholic religious practice. For better or for worse, that was, at least in most urban areas in the sixteenth century, not the case. Catholics serious about their religion generally found their spiritual nourishment primarily in confraternities, private or semiprivate chapels and oratories, and in the churches of the religious orders. As every tourist knows, the great churches in Florence are the Dominicans’ Santa Maria Novella and the Franciscans’ Santa Croce, which of course are not parishes. 16 CATHOLIC CHURCH HISTORY The development of social history was, however, only one of the methodological developments that came into being and began to flourish in the later part of the twentieth century. Early on, France took the lead in creating new or almost-new approaches that have had a significant impact on the study of Catholicism, particularly on the medieval and early modern periods.36 The so-called Annales School is the best-known representative of the French initiatives. In the 1930s, scholars such as Lucien Febvre, Marc Bloch, and their colleagues challenged the dogma that politics, great men, and great events were the proper subject of history. With the Annales School a new kind of geographical, economic, and social history came into being, in which human communities and their collective mentalities were studied as they responded to their ever-so-slowly evolving material and social environments. The emphasis Annales scholars placed on la longue durée in history has obviously deep significance for the long trajectory of the history of the Catholic Church. Febvre especially turned historians’ attention to the thoughts and aspirations of ordinary men and women, to their “religious sentiments.” According to him, historians must study religion, not churches. They must moderate their preoccupation with institutional questions and turn their attention to the thoughts, aspirations, and desires of the men and women of the time. To this end they must study the sermons, the books of devotion, and the practices of piety of those men and women in their social and economic contexts. But the Annales School is far from being the whole story. The priest Étienne Delaruelle published his first article in 1929, a fateful year for historians. Although never directly associated with Febvre and Bloch, he showed the same desire to move away from the traditional focus on ecclesiastical politics and great men, especially great churchmen. His writings stress the importance of the laity and of popular practices and cults. Indeed, almost every article he wrote contained the word “popular” in its title, indicating an approach to church history of which he was a pioneer. Although later some historians began to write about “popular religion” as if it were sharply distinct from the religion of the social and intellectual elite, more recent studies have shown that, with few exceptions, the elite were deeply affected by the religious practices and attitudes widespread among their contemporaries. 36. See, e.g., Peter Burke, The French Historical Revolution: The Annales School, 1929– 89 (Cambridge, UK, 1990). JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J. 17 Again in 1929, Gabriel Le Bras, a Catholic specialist in the history of canon law, assumed a chair in the law faculty of the University of Paris. Two years later he issued a call for a statistical and quantitative study of French Catholicism that was efficacious in recruiting scholars for a new approach to religious history. He thus became a leader in the application of sociological methods to the historical study of religion, especially religious practice. He proposed to study “the structure and life of organized groups for which the sacred was their beginning and end.”37 Moreover, like the Annales historians, he worked toward a histoire totale that would encompass as many disciplines as possible and that would see a whole society behind every institution. Although Le Bras did not promote the study of heretics, Jews, and other marginalized groups as a way to help define “the ordinary Christian” through definition of “the other,” by the 1970s such research gained ground. Also by the 1970s, microhistory, the detailed analysis of a small phenomenon in the context larger questions and issues, began to move to the mainstream, where it was adopted by historians of religion.38 Febvre mentioned sermons as a fertile field for a new approach to religious history. Church historians had of course long been studying the genre, but they focused almost exclusively on doctrinal content. They were not loath, in fact, to pronounce on the heterodoxy or orthodoxy of what they found. Under the impact of some of the developments just mentioned, they began to look upon sermons through the lens of social or cultural history, which brought sermons down from the high realm of dogma to the level ground of “lived religion.” What so clearly happened with sermon studies tended to happen in similar fields and similar genres, such as liturgical texts and doctrinal pronouncements. Not all the important developments took place because of musings carried on in scholars’ cloisters. There is also a bigger context. Looming over historians of Christianity as part of that larger context is the Second Vatican Council, 1962–65. If the definition of papal infallibility in 1870 and the condemnations of modernism in 1907 affected the pursuit by 37. See Gabriel Le Bras, “Sociologie religieuse et science des religions,” Archives de sociologie des religions, 1 (1956), 3–17, here 6. 38. See, e.g., Edward Muir and Guido Ruggiero, ed., Microhistory and the Lost People of Europe (Baltimore, 1991), esp. Muir’s “Introduction: Observing Trifles,” pp. vii–xxviii. See also Giovanni Levi, “On Microhistory,” in New Perspectives on Historical Writing, ed. Peter Burke (University Park, PA, 1992), pp. 93–113. 18 CATHOLIC CHURCH HISTORY Catholics of the history of their church, Vatican II was a third ecclesiastical event that had a potentially more positive relationship to approaches to religious history. In the first place, the council validated, at least in principle, an evolutionary or developmental model of doctrine and practice. With this new model it implicitly rejected the static model of the Church from which the antimodernist campaign had been launched. In so doing it endeavored to treat the Church as a genuinely historical reality. Then, when in chapter 2 of its “Dogmatic Constitution on the Church,” Lumen Gentium, the council described the Church as the people of God, it mirrored social approaches to church history that by the time of the council had gained momentum and that had acted as a solvent or alternative to top–down, ultramontane approaches. Even though those approaches most likely had little, if anything, to do directly with the council’s description, they cannot be altogether ruled out as influencing some of the council’s theologians and bishops, especially the French. In any case, at about this time, the term church history began to give way in some circles to history of Christianity or history of Catholicism, a symptom of the impact of social history. But the most palpable impact that the council had on the practice of church history came from its “Decree on Ecumenism,” Unitatis Redintegratio. The decree encouraged Catholic scholars to engage in dialogue with other Christians, an encouragement most pointedly directed to scholars. At least for the CHR and the ACHA, the council’s directive simply validated and further promoted a sense of collegiality in a common endeavor that had been present from the beginning. Nonetheless, when in 1969 Monsignor John Tracy Ellis was elected president of both the ACHA and the American Society for Church History, a landmark had been reached. (Ellis, long-serving executive secretary of the ACHA, had been the editor of the CHR from 1941 to 1962.) Three years later, Albert C. Outler was the president of the ACHA, the first non-Catholic ever to hold that office.39 Moreover, in Unitatis Redintegratio, the council decreed (no. 10), “Theology and other branches of knowledge, especially those of a historical 39. See his presidential address, “History as Ecumenical Resource: The Protestant Discovery of ‘Tradition,’” CHR, 59 (1973–74), 1–15. JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J. 19 nature, must be taught with due regard for the ecumenical point of view, so that at every point they may correspond more exactly with the facts.”40 The directive acted as a solvent to vestiges of polemics or apologetics in Catholics’ study of the history of their Church, and, on the positive side, implicitly encouraged collaboration with other historians. The debates at the Second Vatican Council, publicized by the secular press, made clear to a wide public that Catholicism was not the dull monolith of legend. It made it clear to historians, but they had already begun to get the message. The methods developed from the beginning of the century had opened a reality more complex and interesting than previously had been imagined. The burst of interest in the Middle Ages sparked by institutions such as the Medieval Academy of America had shown the richness, diversity, and cultural energy of the supposedly dark ages, the ages so generally identified with Catholicism. Within the Church itself, the neo-Thomist movement promoted by Pope Leo XIII had by the early decades of the century produced first-rate scholars such as Martin Grabmann, Joseph de Ghellinck, and Étienne Gilson, whose researches on medieval philosophy and theology showed their diversity and intellectual seriousness. In 1929, Gilson helped found an academic center in Toronto that ten years later became the Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, where historical methods were applied to every facet of medieval life. Paul Oskar Kristeller and other historians had later shown that the Renaissance, supposedly the first harbinger of modernity, was “fundamentally a Christian [that is, Catholic] era.”41 The boom in study of the Jesuits, pursued on an international basis by scholars who have no religious affiliation whatsoever, has shown the many areas in which they were pioneers.42 Whatever the causes, there can be no doubt that historians of all persuasions have with new zeal turned their attention to Catholicism. As they have read its history, however, they have not always seen it as a positive force in the world. For such historians, Catholicism remains 40. Norman Tanner, ed., Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, 2 vols. (Washington, DC, 1990), 2:914. 41. Paul Oskar Kristeller, Renaissance Thought: The Classic, Scholastic, and Humanistic Strains (New York, 1953), p. 73. 42. See, e.g., John W. O’Malley, “Jesuit History: A New Hot Topic,” America, May 9, 2005, 8–11. 20 CATHOLIC CHURCH HISTORY dark. In the 1960s, the German political historian Gerhard Oestreich gave currency to the term “social disciplining,” or Sozialdisziplinierung, and applied it to the State in the Age of Absolutism.43 By it, he meant “the disciplining of individuals to obtain corporate order.” Other historians took it up and in so doing modified it, especially under the influence of Michel Foucault’s Surveiller et punir (1975). The concept began to be applied to Christianity and most specifically to Catholicism in the early modern period. As some historians did so, they sometimes gave the impression that the Church is essentially a punitive society.44 Historians of religion at least in the United States have generally not taken such a negative stance. What is most surprising about them is how their numbers have surged in recent years. In a survey conducted by the AHA in 2009, Robert B. Townsend commented, “Specialists in religious history recently surpassed all other topical categories in our annual look at AHA members . . . with the topic slightly more prevalent among members studying early European and recent U.S. history, but the subject was taken up by at least a few members specializing in every continent and time period.”45 Judging from the number of publications related to the history of Catholicism coming recently from major university presses, we can assume that among the scholars pursuing religious history our field receives due attention. Church Histories Whether called history of the Church or history of Christianity, the genre in both single and multivolume forms that built on the foundations laid in the nineteenth century has continued to flourish up to the present and shows little sign of flagging. Because of space limitations, I can com- 43. See Gerhard Oestreich, Geist und Gestalt des frůhmodernen Staates: Ausgewälte Aufsätze (Berlin, 1969), and Wolfang Reinhard, “Reformation, Counter Reformation, and the Early Modern State: A Reassessment,” CHR, 75 (1989), 383–404. 44. See, e.g., John W. O’Malley, Trent and All That: Renaming Catholicism in the Early Modern Period (Cambridge, MA, 2000), pp. 113–16, and Wietse de Boer, “Social Discipline in Italy: Peregrinations of a Historical Paradigm,” Archiv für Reformationsgeschichte, 94 (2003), 294–307. 45. See Robert B. Townsend, “A New Found Religion? The Field Surges among AHA Members,” Perspectives on History, December 2009, 1–2, http://www.historians.org/publications-and-directories/perspectives-on-history/december-2009/a-new-found religion-thefield-surges-among-aha-members. The author is grateful to Matthew T. Keough, administrative office assistant at the AHA, for tracking down this article. JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J. 21 ment on only the more important even of multivolume histories.46 The better of them reflect the shifts in focus and emphasis I have described. In the first part of the twentieth century, by far the most important series of Catholic inspiration was the twenty-one-volume Histoire de l’Êglise, edited by Augustin Fliche and Victor Martin, published between 1934 and 1964. The CHR published a warm review of the first three volumes, although the reviewer pointed out a number of mistakes.47 It of course continued to follow the series until its completion. A breakthrough because of its attention to popular piety was volume 14, 1962–64, on the period of the Great Western Schism and the conciliar crisis. Not surprisingly, its principal author was Êtienne Delaruelle.48 Other multivolume church histories by Catholic authors appeared around the same time or slightly later. Fernand Mourret’s history in eight volumes, for instance, was translated into English between 1930 and 1957.49 Charles Poulet’s five-volume Histoire de christianisme was published in Paris between 1932 and 1957, a project the CHR described as “monumental.”50 At about the same time, 1935–47, a three-volume History of the Church by the English priest Philip Hughes received an especially warm reception among American Catholics at the time. The three-volume history by Karl Bihlmeyer and Hermann Tüchle was translated into English between 1958 and 1966. The big event at midcentury, however, was the inauguration in 1962 of the seven-volume history in German under the general editorship of Hubert Jedin, without whom it seems almost impossible to speak of Catholic Church history in the twentieth century.51 The last volume came off the presses in 1979, the year before Jedin’s death. The first volume of the English translation appeared in 1965, the last in 1986, a project that in 46. See also Phillip Schaff, History of the Christian Church, 8 vols. (Grand Rapids, MI, 1950); Louis J. Rogier, ed., The Christian Centuries, 5 vols. (Mahwah, NJ, 1964–78); Raymund Kottje and Bernd Moeller, ed., Ökumenische Kirchengeschichte, 3 vols. (Mainz, 1970– 74); Kurt Aland, A History of Christianity, 2 vols., trans. James E. Schaaf (Philadelphia, 1984– 85); Warren H. Carroll, A History of Christianity, 6 vols. (Front Royal, VA, 1985–2013). 47. See CHR, 23 (1937–38), 477–80. 48. See CHR, 52 (1967), 583–84. 49. See, e.g., CHR, 16 (1930–31), 360–61; CHR, 32 (1946–47), 222–24; CHR, 41 (1955–56), 450–51; and CHR, 44 (1958–59), 190–91. 50. See CHR, 21 (1935–36), 222. 51. See, e.g., CHR, 48 (1963–64), 307, and CHR, 49 (1964–65), 71–73. 22 CATHOLIC CHURCH HISTORY English resulted in ten volumes. An English-language abridgement in three volumes appeared in 1993. These volumes remain the most authoritative and accessible for English-language readers of the multivolume histories by Catholic authors. But they are now more than a half-century old. While still basically reliable, they are strongly institutional in their emphasis and take relatively little account of the developments in the field described above. The same criticism might be addressed to the series on the ecumenical councils edited by Gervais Dumeige, Histoire des conciles oecuméniques (1962–81). In twelve somewhat compact volumes, the series covers all the councils the Catholic Church considers ecumenical except the Second Vatican Council. Despite its limitations, it is the only series with such a scope. Councils are only one aspect of church history, but they have been crucially important through the centuries and have determined even the definition of how the ecclesiastical hierarchy has functioned. This phenomenon provides the historical basis and justification for the doctrine of the Second Vatican Council on episcopal collegiality. More recently than the Dumeige series has come out of Germany the important but understudied Konziliengeschichte, whose founder and general editor is Cardinal Walter Brandmüller. The series has two sectors. The first, Darstellungen, consists of the history of a given council or several related councils, local or general (ecumenical).52 Some twenty volumes have appeared in this sector. The second sector, Untersuchungen, consists of studies of different aspects of this vast field.53 The range of the series is broad. The first volume to be published in the first sector, for instance, was Die Konzilien auf den Philippinen (1981). Out of England at about the same time as Jedin’s Handbuch came an excellent seven-volume series, the Penguin History of the Church, under the general editorship of Owen Chadwick, who wrote two of the volumes. His brother Henry who, like Owen, was an Anglican priest, wrote the volume on the early Church. The first volume of the series appeared in 1962, Alec R. Vidler’s The Church in the Age of Reason. The last, Owen Chadwick’s fascinating The Christian Church in the Cold War, appeared in 52. Walter Brandmůller, ed., Konziliengeschichte, Reihe A, Darstellungen (Paderborn, 1980–). 53. Walter Brandmūller, ed., Konziliengeschichte, Reihe B, Untersuchungen (Paderborn, 1979–). JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J. 23 1993. The series is especially commendable for dedicating a full volume to A History of Christian Missions, written by Stephen Neill (1964); a second edition, revised by Owen Chadwick, appeared in 1986. In that regard, mention must be made of Kenneth Scott Latourette’s earlier and monumental seven-volume A History of the Expansion of Christianity (1938–47), whose publication the CHR carefully followed.54 More recently, out of England has come the nine volumes of The Cambridge History of Christianity (2006–09). Unlike the Penguin series, each of these volumes is multiauthored, which has both advantages and disadvantages, as reviewers have noted.55 The series is especially commendable for three reasons. First, it is up to date. Second, it devotes a full volume to Eastern Christianity, and, third, it devotes two volumes to “world Christianity,” c. 1815–1914 and c. 1914–2000. In those two volumes African Christianity, generally overlooked in such series, receives its due, as does Christianity in other formerly mission fields. At the same time in France appeared another multiauthored history in fourteen volumes, Histoire du Christianisme (1990–2000), edited by JeanMarie Mayeur.56 The series is influenced by all the important historiographical developments for which French scholars have been especially responsible. The large penultimate volume, Crises et Renouveau (de 1958 à nos jours), is particularly welcome because of the many pages devoted to the Second Vatican Council and its aftermath, as well as to African and Latin American Christianity. The final volume, Anamnésis, is unusual, an attempt to step back and look at big issues that cut across the history of the Church, such as the relationship of the Church to law, to the cultures of different epochs, and especially to the Jews, which takes up about a third of the pages. In that regard, the series can plausibly be said to end where Dairmaid MacCulloch’s massive one-volume Christianity: The First Three Thousand Years (2010) begins. MacCulloch’s title betrays the most special feature of the volume, whose opening seventy-five pages deal with Greece, Rome, and Israel during the first of the three millennia. Even church histories of some 54. See, e.g., CHR, 24 (1938–39), 332–34; CHR, 26 (1940–41), 102–03; and CHR, 27 (1941–42), 457–59. 55. See, e.g., the reviews of volumes 1 and 9, CHR, 93 (2007), 886–88, and CHR, 94 (2009), 120–22. 56. Jean-Marie Mayeur et al., eds., Histoire de christianisme des origines à nos jours, 14 vols. (Paris, 1990–2000). See, e.g., CHR, 78 (1992), 645–46. 24 CATHOLIC CHURCH HISTORY length generally devote only a few pages to the Hellenistic and Jewish background to the advent of Christianity, and none treat it as professedly as does MacCulloch as part of a continuum. Another special feature of the volume is the extensive coverage of Eastern Orthodoxy. MacCulloch’s fine style makes this book accessible to the general reader, but, unfortunately, the sheer size and sophistication of this brilliant tour de force may put off the faint-hearted. The Catholic Church Historian Scholars study the history of the Catholic Church for the same reasons they study the American Civil War or poor relief in Renaissance Venice. They do so out of curiosity and the desire to advance learning. They do so because they believe that such studies provide helpful perspectives on the present. History jolts them and their readers out of the assumption that the present moment is the measure of all things. But is there some further dimension to the study of Catholic history? Do Catholic historians doing that history have a vocation that is in some way, howsoever small, special? Or, to shift the focus slightly, does being a Catholic affect a scholar’s hermeneutical stance? More broadly, what role, if any, does church history play in the reality of the Catholic Church itself? Is church history a “theological discipline,” as many German Catholic historians led by Hubert Jedin stoutly maintained in midcentury?57 For Jedin, some further and even higher considerations operate in Catholic Church historians’ method than is true for their secular counterparts. He asserted, for instance, that church historians took their definition of church from dogma.58 Jedin’s theoretical position in this regard reflected the institutional reality of German universities, in which church historians are firmly located in the theological faculty, separate from other historians.59 57. See, e.g., Hubert Jedin, “Zur Aufgabe der Kirchengeschichtsschreibers,” in Kirche des Glaubens, Kirche der Geschichte: Aufsätze und Vorträge, 2 vols. (Freiburg, 1966), 1:23–35 (first published in 1952). The Römische Quartalschrift, 80 (1985), dedicated a whole issue to the debate on the question under the rubric Grundfragen der kirchengeschichtlichen Methode— heute. See also Yves Congar, “Church History as a Branch of Theology,” in Church History in Future Perspective, ed. Aubert, pp. 85–96. 58. Jedin, “Zur Aufgabe,” p. 27: “Die Kirchengeschichte übernimmt dem Begriff der Kirche von der Dogmatik.” 59. See John W. O’Malley, Trent and All That: Renaming Catholicism in the Early Modern Era (Cambridge, MA, 2000), pp. 54–64. JOHN W. O’MALLEY, S.J. 25 Questions about the nature of the Catholic Church historian’s vocation are by no means exclusively German, however, as is made clear by the number of books dealing with it in one form or another published up to the present.60 Even if some historians believe such questions are otiose, improper, or even unanswerable, they have been asked again and again in the course of the past 100 years. They have intruded themselves onto the pages of the CHR, most often as the presidential address of the president of the ACHA. Just a few years after the CHR began publication, Bishop Thomas Shahan wrote a lengthy article, “The Study of Church History.”61 In it he made statements that today make historians cringe, such as “The history of the church is the history of the Kingdom of God on earth from the creation of man down to the present.”62 Nonetheless, he ends with sensible arguments about why the four “theological sciences” need to take history into account—scripture, doctrine, canon law, and “ecclesiastical worship” (i.e., liturgy). Once again, Shahan showed himself ahead of most Catholic thinkers of his time when he spoke, seemingly without trepidation, about “the evolution of Christian dogma.”63 In 1934, the CHR published “The Catholic Philosophy of History,” the lecture that Bishop Joseph Schrembs, then of Pittsburgh, delivered at the annual meeting of the ACHA. It was little more than an extended apologia for Catholicism.64 Ross J. S. Hoffman’s presidential address a few years later, “Catholicism and Historismus,” could not have been more different.65 It was learned and measured and refused to take flight on the wings of the glories of Catholicism. At the end he made the reasonable, if 60. See, e.g., Henri-Irénée Marrou, Théologie de l’histoire (Paris, 1968). Translated by Violet Nevile as Time and Timeliness (New York, 1969). See also Eugene Kevane, The Lord of History: Christocentrism and the Philosophy of History (Boston, 1980); C. T. McIntire, ed., Herbert Butterfield: Writings on Christianity and History (New York, 1979); Stanford Caldecott and John Morell, ed., Eternity in Time: Christopher Dawson and the Catholic Idea of History (Edinburgh, 1997); Rowan Williams, Why Study the Past? The Quest for the Historical Church (Grand Rapids, MI, 2005); Nick Salvatore, ed., Faith and the Historian: Catholic Perspectives (Urbana, IL, 2007); and John Fea et al., eds., Confessing History: Explorations in Christian Faith and the Historian’s Vocation (Notre Dame, 2010). 61. See CHR, 8 (1922–23), 303–32. 62. Ibid., p. 309. 63. Ibid., p. 329. 64. See CHR, 20 (1934–35), 1–22. Somewhat more sophisticated but along the same lines is George B. Flahiff, “A Catholic Looks at History,” CHR, 27 (1941–42), 1–15. 65. See CHR, 24 (1938–39), 401–12. 26 CATHOLIC CHURCH HISTORY not uncontroversial, argument that Catholics bring a certain sensibility to the study of the past that helps them grasp aspects of it that escape others. Much later, Oscar Halecki made a somewhat similar but more questionable point that the “laws of history” are moral laws—i.e., expressions of natural law—that Catholics know and can apply. Better than others, therefore, Catholics can understand the historical process.66 In his presidential address published in 1975, Eric Cochrane spent a lot of time debunking earlier claims about “Catholic historiography” and settled for a quite practical agenda, such as trying to help fellow Catholics understand the history of the Church and trying to induce theologians into taking it more seriously into account.67 In a more recent presidential address, Joseph P. Chinnici presented two case studies that showed the significantly different, somewhat opposed, values operative in two groups that called themselves Catholic. To take his study a step further, he showed how open to challenge it can be to speak of a “Catholic approach” to almost any given topic. The debate therefore continues, yet seemingly with less energy and interest. Even so, the questions it raises are good ones for church historians to ponder, especially historians with a faith commitment. Church history may or may not be a “theological discipline,” but, no matter, it can still be of service to theology and related disciplines, as Bishop Shahan said a long time ago and Roger Aubert somewhat more recently.68 Church historians might even take the further step to do what they can to make the results of their research known more broadly. They might thus have an impact on how bishops, theologians, and “ordinary Christians” think about the Church, about its mission, and about the problems it faces. They might thus even help church leaders rethink the doctrines they teach and the moral positions they adopt. 66. See Oscar Halecki, “The Moral Laws of History,” CHR, 42 (1956–57), 409–40. 67. See Eric Cochrane, “What Is Catholic Historiography?” CHR, 61 (1975), 169–90. See also John Lukacs, “The Historiographical Problem of Belief and of Believers: Religious History in the Democratic Age,” CHR, 64 (1978), 153–67, and James D. Tracy, “Believers, Non-Believers, and the Historian’s Unspoken Assumptions,” CHR, 86 (2000), 403–19. 68. See Roger Aubert, “Church History as an Indispensable Key to Interpreting the Decisions of the Magisterium,” in Church History in Future Perspective, ed. Aubert, pp. 97– 107. F oreword n April 1915 the first issue of The Catholic Historical Review was published by The Catholic University of America. Cardinal James Gibbons of Baltimore (see figure 1) introduced the journal with a cover letter in which he noted that the editors and contributors were members of the faculty and alumni of the university where the history of the Church was studied with academic rigor. He saw the journal as a vehicle for diffusing to fellow scholars and to the public at large the results of their research, namely, the “hidden stores of knowledge which history guards,” the truths and lessons one needs to know that “afford the best intellectual enjoyment.” Over the century the journal has changed. Its editorial board is no longer composed exclusively of Catholic faculty members of Catholic University, but now includes scholars of diverse religious traditions, and both national and international backgrounds. The early apologetic tone has been replaced by a concern for publishing the best scholarship on the history of Catholicism produced by professional scholars from across the globe regardless of religious affiliation. I How should one celebrate the first centenary of the journal? In the past milestones were marked by publishing a cumulative index of the earlier volumes, in 1938 (vols. 1–20) and 1969 (vols. 21–50). But the journal is now digitized and available on Project MUSE and JStor that have search functions, and thus the time-consuming and expensive task of compiling a new index is no longer needed. On its fortieth anniversary Carl Wittke published in the journal a retrospective essay,1 but to update the survey would be an enormous task for a single scholar. At the editorial board meeting in Boston on January 8, 2011, in which Liam Matthew Brockey, Thomas Kselman, Maureen C. Miller, Joseph White, and the editor participated, three options were proposed. Option I was to commission articles from leading scholars who would study how the articles and book reviews published in the journal reflected or contributed to the evolving historiography of the Catholic Church. Option II was to examine the demographics of journal contributors (e.g., were they professors or nonprofessional amateurs, clerics or laity, men or women), the themes that they discussed, and the sig1. Carl Wittke, “The Catholic Historical Review—Forty Years,” in ante, 42 (1956), 1–14. i i i FIGURE 1. Cardinal James Gibbons of Baltimore, c. 1920. Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, reproduction no. LC-USZ62-105240. nificance of their articles. Option III was to publish a special issue on one theme (e.g., material culture, religious liberty, missions) traced across the century, with multiple authors; this would address methodological issues, cover historiography, and suggest new directions. After much discussion, it was decided to pursue both Options I and II in the essays that would appear in one issue, and to add to that issue an essay that reviews the editorial leadership of the journal, the policies of the journal, and the relationship of the journal to the American Catholic Historical Association, which was founded by a journal editor, Peter Guilday (see figure 2), in Philadelphia five years after the journal’s first appearance. With this organization, Guilday wished to promote the study of the history of the Catholic Church, and the association quickly adopted the journal as its official organ. At the Boston meeting, it was also decided to celebrate the anniversary by publishing an additional special issue (Option III) that was not retrospective in nature, but would look to the future and would apply the new focus on material culture to the study of the Catholic Church over the centuries. Maureen C. Miller’s offer to edit this issue was welcomed. iv FIGURE 2. Inscribed photograph of Peter Guilday to Msgr. John Tracy Ellis, his successor as editor of The Catholic Historical Review. Based on the discussions in Boston and after four years of fine-tuning, commissioning, reviewing, and revising the contributions, the centennial issues will be published on the occasion of the journal’s centenary. Centennial issue 1 is the product of Maureen C. Miller’s vision and hard work and that of her fellow collaborators. We trust that the readers of the journal will find this special issue both fascinating and instructive, and that it will lead scholars to research and write similar studies. In spring 2015, Centennial issue 2 will appear with its retrospective essays. They were reviewed by peer referees, and the editor is very grateful for their expert assistance. May these two issues prove to be a fitting way to commemorate the evolution of the journal over the previous century and open up new ways of studying the history of Catholicism and thus, in the words of Cardinal Gibbons, “afford the best intellectual enjoyment.” NELSON H. MINNICH Editor, The Catholic Historical Review TREVOR LIPSCOMBE Director, The Catholic University of America Press v Foreword n April 1915, the first issue of The Catholic Historical Review was published by the Catholic University of America. Cardinal James Gibbons of Baltimore (see figure 1) introduced the journal with a cover letter in which he noted that the editors and contributors were members of the faculty and alumni of the university, where the history of the Church was studied with academic rigor. He saw the journal as a vehicle for diffusing to fellow scholars and to the public at large the results of their research, namely, the “hidden stores of knowledge which history guards,” the truths and lessons one needs to know that “afford the best intellectual enjoyment.” Over the past century the journal has changed. Its editorial board is no longer composed exclusively of Catholic faculty members of Catholic University, but it now includes scholars of diverse religious and both national and international backgrounds. The early apologetic tone has been replaced by a concern for publishing the best scholarship on the history of Catholicism produced by professional scholars from across the globe, with any or no religious affiliation. I How should one celebrate the first centenary of the journal? In the past, milestones were marked by publishing cumulative indexes of the earlier vol- compiling a new index is no longer needed. On its fortieth anniversary, Carl Wittke published in the journal a retrospective essay,1 but to update the survey would be an enormous task for a single scholar. At the editorial board meeting in Boston on January 8, 2011—with participants Liam Matthew Brockey, Thomas Kselman, Maureen C. Miller, Nelson H. Minnich, and Joseph White—three options were proposed. Option 1 was to commission articles from leading scholars who would study how the articles and book reviews published in the journal reflected or contributed to the evolving historiography of the Catholic Church. Option 2 was to analyze the contributors to the journal (be they professors or nonprofessional amateurs, clerics 1. Carl Wittke, “The Catholic Historical Review—Forty Years,” The Catholic Historical Review, 42 (1956), 1–14. v FIGURE 1. Cardinal James Gibbons of Baltimore, c. 1920. Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, reproduction no. LC-USZ62-105240. or laity, men or women), the themes on which they wrote, and the significance of their articles. Option 3 was to publish a special issue on one theme (e.g., material culture, religious liberty, missions) traced across the century, with multiple authors addressing methodological issues and historiography as well as suggesting new directions. After much discussion, the board decided to merge Options 1 and 2, and to add an essay reviewing the editorial leadership of the journal, its policies, and the relationship of the journal to the American Catholic Historical Association. The ACHA was founded in 1920 in Philadelphia by Peter Guilday, one of the journal’s editors, to promote the study of the history of the Catholic Church. The association quickly adopted the journal as its official organ. At the Boston meeting in 2011, participants also decided to celebrate the anniversary by publishing an additional special issue that was not retrospective in nature but more forward looking and that would apply the new focus on material culture to the study of the Catholic Church over the centuries—Option 3. Maureen C. Miller’s offer to edit this issue was welcomed. v i Based on the discussions in Boston and after four years of fine-tuning, commissioning, reviewing, and revising the contributions, the centennial issues will be published on the occasion of the journal’s centenary. Supplement 1 of the centennial issue is the product of the vision and hard work of Maureen C. Miller and her fellow collaborators. We trust that the readers of the journal will find their articles both fascinating and instructive, and that their analyses will lead scholars to research and write similar studies. This issue, Supplement 2, offers retrospective essays. Unfortunately, the essay on the relationship between the CHR and ACHA was not completed in time and will be published in two parts in the journal during the centennial year. May these two special centennial issues prove to be a fitting way to commemorate the evolution of the journal over the previous century, open up new ways of studying the history of Catholicism, and, in the words of Cardinal Gibbons, “afford the best intellectual enjoyment.” NELSON H. MINNICH Editor, The Catholic Historical Review TREVOR LIPSCOMBE Director, The Catholic University of America Press v i i Elizabeth Clark John Carlisle Kilgo Professor of Religion Emerita Department of Religious Studies Duke University 2014 Photograph by Annabel Wharton THE CATHOLIC HISTORICAL REVIEW WINTER, 2015 VOL. 101 NO. 1 The Retrospective Self ELIZABETH CLARK* The author reflects on her career working in the history of early Christianity, including discussion of her undergraduate and graduate study, teaching activities, publications, and relationships with colleagues. Keywords: late-ancient Christianity, asceticism, early Christian women, theory, historiography Caveat lector! A nalyzing the conversion stories of the apostle Paul and Augustine, Paula Fredriksen argued that these narratives constituted an act of self-fashioning: Paul and Augustine created selves in retrospect. Moreover, the retrospective experience, she added, serves as “the origin of (and justification for) one’s present,” as an explanation both to one’s self and to others. Fredriksen concluded, “The conversion account, never disinterested, is a condensed, or disguised, description of the convert’s present, which he legitimates through his retrospective creation of a past and a self.”1 This realization unsettles any attempt to write an intellectual autobiography: the present shapes the construction of one’s past. Is not autobiography, like much history-writing of yore, Whiggish? Reader, beware! Becoming a Historian How did I become a historian, if a student of early Christian texts can be so designated?2 In my education at a small country high school in Delhi, *Dr. Clark is John Carlisle Kilgo Professor of Religion Emerita in the Department of Religious Studies at Duke University, email: lizclark@duke.edu. 1. Paula Fredriksen, “Paul and Augustine: Conversion Narratives, Orthodox Traditions, and the Retrospective Self,” Journal of Theological Studies, 37 (1986), 3–34, here 33. 2. Throughout, the terms history and religion usually refer to academic subjects and disciplines. 1 2 THE RETROSPECTIVE SELF New York, the teaching of history was dismal. Class sessions were spent copying the teacher’s notes from the blackboard. The most memorable information I gleaned from a world history class concerned the kings of Israel. Notes about the second king began: “I. David. A. He lived in a tent.” I was saved only by the prospect of having to take the New York State Regents examinations at year’s end. The world history examination, for example, would cover subjects we never reached in class, such as nineteenth- and early-twentieth-century Russia. Fortunately the textbook, however inadequate, served those of us who could read well and learn on our own. Reading, as for many young students raised in circumstances similar to mine, was a great outlet. I always had my nose in a book. Now, in retirement, the last hour or two of the day is customarily spent with a novel (preferably the big, nineteenth-century variety, spiced with a bit of contemporary fiction). With this abysmal education in history, I entered Vassar as a freshman in 1956. It was my mother who urged this “better” college education for my sister and me, rather than the teachers’ college that many in Delhi thought was “good enough.” Since we both would receive scholarships from New York State, our college of choice had to be in that state: hence, Vassar. Vassar had been established in the 1860s to give women an education comparable to that which young men received at the Ivies, then closed to women. I have never regretted attending a same-sex college, as Vassar then was. Even in the dismal 1950s, a terrible decade for women in the United States, I was taken seriously as a budding scholar with dreams of my own. Choosing my first-year program, I opted for a course on “Periods of English History,” one of (only) two history courses offered to freshmen. I was terrified. Every class period, the professor distributed lists of books and articles to be found on the reserve shelf in the library—this was pre-photocopying, let alone pre-scanning—that we were to read for the following class. After several days I discovered that students were not expected to read everything on the lists (as the professor gently told a bleary-eyed me). We were, however, to read with lined notecards in hand on which we were to record bibliographical data, along with samples of the author’s thesis. What was a “thesis?,” I wondered. We were to compare one author’s thesis with another’s—but they didn’t agree! What was the truth of the matter? What were “primary sources” and “secondary sources”? Class sessions were devoted not to copying notes, but to interrogation of the sources we had ELIZABETH CLARK 3 read and the arguments the authors advanced. After fumbling efforts to learn to read critically, I became an ardent enthusiast of history courses, eventually choosing that subject as one of my minors. The training I received in the Vassar History Department was the most valuable form of study, overall, in which I engaged as an undergraduate. It was also an inspiration, although probably I did not realize it at the time, to be tutored by strong-minded women (Mildred Campbell, Mary Martin McLaughlin, and J. B. Ross) who stood in a long tradition of Vassar’s female history professors. Later I learned how female professors at the Seven Sisters colleges, shunned by the male professoriate, had started the Berkshire History Conference in 1930 (which, I am told, involved hikes around the New England countryside and conviviality over food and drink, in addition to discussions of their work as historians). Choosing a college major was a less pressured decision then than it is now. Like most young women of my generation, I was clueless as to what a future career, if there was to be such, would be. (Many classmates married and settled into homemaking and children promptly upon graduation, if they made it that far.) Since I understood the subject matter of my physiology classes much better than the critical discussions in English or history, I first opted for that as a possible major. After two and a half years of chopping up frogs, rats, turtles, and eventually cats, I decided that a career in this field did not inspire. I liked the religion courses I began taking as a sophomore, but was wary about adopting that subject as a major. As a teenager, I had been curious about religion. During our course of study for becoming a church member (occurring at about age thirteen), I had asked our rather scholarly minister how to account for the differences between the creation stories in Genesis 1 and 2 (he offered a shorthand version of the Documentary Hypothesis). An active Presbyterian in high school—singing in the choir, running youth organizations, and teaching Sunday school—I joined various religion-oriented groups at Vassar and attended chapel services to hear Reinhold Niebuhr and Paul Tillich. But since I rejected the ministry as a career, I wondered what a young woman (or “girl,” as we then were called) could do with such an undergraduate degree? Graduate school and the professoriate seemed the answer. That decision rather puzzles me today, since I was so shy that I could scarcely utter a word in public. How did I imagine myself as a professor? I entertained a vision that once one earned a doctorate, words came out of one’s mouth, much like characters in a comic strip (in my version, I was saying, “Augustine, born in . . .”). To my 4 THE RETROSPECTIVE SELF credit, I had at least a glimmering perception that if I adopted this academic field as a career, my religious beliefs might change. As my friend Dale Martin likes to tease me, I have retained over the years all the “worst” characteristics of Calvinism: a brutal work-ethic and creeping guilt, without the supposed comfort of predestination. I took one excellent year-long religion class at Vassar, taught by Jack Glasse, on “The History of Christian Thought.” In this small seminar of mostly religion majors, we read widely (in English) in works from the second to the twentieth century. Here I could put the skills I had learned in the History Department to good use. Rereading a few of my term papers I saved from the class (on the ontological argument and later critiques thereof; on Schleiermacher), I judge them “not bad” for an undergraduate. The instruction I received in this course as well as in the History Department surpassed the level of some classes I took in graduate school. Even when headed for graduate school, I did not understand that I needed to settle on a precise field within religion. For a while, I imagined myself as a scholar of Søren Kierkegaard, but a fellowship to Denmark did not pan out. With graduate fellowship aid from Vassar, New York State, and Columbia University, I opted for the master’s and then the doctoral program at that university and Union Theological Seminary. On the very day in September 1960 that my mother drove me to New York to begin my studies, I had not yet decided whether I would concentrate on early Christianity or on twentieth-century theology. I opted (fortunately for later developments) on the former. Since my father had not allowed me to study Greek in college (“mere dilettantish frivolity”), I had considerable catching up to do. I had taken three years each of Latin and French in high school, three years of German in college, and more language work at Harvard the summer after college graduation, but still it was not enough. The professor of early Christianity with whom I intended to work, Cyril Richardson, was on leave my first year at Columbia and Union. (A fine scholar, he died much too young.) Thus I took courses in other periods of history of Christianity, especially on the Reformation era with Wilhelm Pauck. Later work in patristics at Union centered largely on theology, especially on Trinitarian and Christological issues. First-year students were also required to take a “History of Religions” course at Columbia; several of us, oblivious to our ignorance, scoffed at it as irrelevant to our academic concerns. I also enrolled in “The Dialectic from Plato to Hegel,” taught by the only female professor of religion I ever had: Susan Sontag, then teaching at Columbia while working on her PhD at ELIZABETH CLARK 5 Harvard. Throughout my graduate career I took several philosophy courses. History of philosophy had been my second undergraduate minor, and it seemed the “natural” complement to studies of early Christianity. In that era, philosophy appeared as the most helpful subject outside patristics as a useful credential for a teaching position. About the topics I would later write, I had no education in graduate school. As I recall, the few minutes devoted to early Christian asceticism brought giggles from us students, pretending to be worldly. Time eventually came to choose a dissertation topic. Henry Chadwick of Oxford had recently spoken on Origen at Union Seminary, and Professor Richardson thought a fine topic for me might be, “Did Origen castrate himself?” I quickly imagined the mirth that the topic might elicit at future cocktail parties and rejected his suggestion. Instead, I wrote on a laughterproof topic, Clement of Alexandria’s use of Aristotelian philosophy in his attempted refutation of “Gnostics” (or, as we called them then, Gnostics), as a study in philosophical transmission. I had been most fortunate to do a year-long seminar with Paul Oskar Kristeller on “Hellenistic Philosophy after Aristotle,” a course that provided the basis for my dissertation work. To this day, Kristeller remains the most learned scholar I have ever known. With great nervousness I summoned up the courage to ask him to co-chair my dissertation committee. He had but one question: “You will read the material in Greek?” After my “yes,” he promptly agreed. Anxious to finish graduate school on the funding I had been granted, I raced through my master’s and doctoral work in a little more than four years: after all, as a dean then told me, the largest stipends had to be reserved for married men with children. Such rapid completion was not a virtue. There was so much more I should have learned, especially ancient history and other ancient languages. Now, students in my discipline at Duke would never consider “making do” with such skimpy training. Moreover, by the time I left graduate school in August 1964 to begin teaching, I had never stood in front of a classroom. Had I done so, I might have realized how poorly suited I was to become a professor. I might have retreated to a profession that involved less “performance.” Both the academic training and introduction to “professionalization” that today’s graduate students receive bear little resemblance to my graduate experience. I recall that I obtained my first job without even producing a CV. In August 1964, I drove my parents’ old car to Fredericksburg, Virginia, to begin teaching at what then was named Mary Washington College (now known as the University of Mary Washington), the women’s under- 6 THE RETROSPECTIVE SELF graduate division of the University of Virginia. I had never before been south of Washington, DC, and found the experience of the South (Virginia at that time was decidedly “Southern”) rather shocking; among other points, I learned that I was now considered a “lady,” not a “woman.” At that time, the University of Virginia kept young men in Charlottesville and young women in Fredericksburg, an arrangement that contributed to several unfortunate automobile accidents. I was hired by the dean and president to start a Department of Religion. Why they picked a twenty-fiveyear-old with no teaching experience remains a mystery. The college had formerly employed a local minister to teach some Bible courses, but the president, a medievalist, deemed this arrangement unsatisfactory. I was to teach four courses a semester, some with subject matter that was relatively new to me. The first years were very difficult as I scrambled from day to day, wearily struggling through biblical commentaries at 2 a.m. to find something to say about the composition of Isaiah and other such topics. By the time I left Mary Washington College in 1982, I had devised and taught more than a dozen different courses across the spectrum of biblical studies, history of Christianity (Catholic and Protestant) and of Judaism, as well as specialized seminars in patristics, Hellenistic religions, Reformation history and theology, nineteenth-century theology, and twentieth-century theology, among others. Of one course I feel particularly proud: “Women and Religion.” Active in the women’s movement from the late 1960s onward— I cofounded the Fredericksburg chapter of NOW c. 1970—I transferred my feminist enthusiasm to my academic work and organized one of the first courses on that topic offered in North America. In subsequent years, I spent time speaking to sometimes hostile audiences about the proposed Equal Rights Amendment: a skin-toughening experience. I taught some excellent students in those early years, two of whom went on to have distinguished careers in religion: Patricia Cox Miller, recently retired from Syracuse University, and Robin Darling Young, now at The Catholic University of America. I joined with students in offering tutoring services to underprivileged high school students and in campaigning for civil rights; protesting the Vietnam War; and, of course, fostering the women’s movement. The religion faculty at Mary Washington College grew to three. Eventually Virginia legislators, eager to reduce expenses, forced small departments at state colleges to combine. Ours amalgamated the Departments of Classics, Philosophy, and Religion, a successful venture to this day. One common credential bound us together: we all could read ancient Greek. I was chair of the Religion Department from 1964 to 1979 and in the last three years of my time at Mary Washington College, I served as chair of our joint operation. ELIZABETH CLARK 7 Although at my dissertation defense my professors had proclaimed, “You will publish!,” I had no understanding of how to do so, nor did I receive any help. “Mentoring” was not yet a known concept. A decade passed after I landed at Mary Washington College before I became a published scholar—a lapse that would be unthinkable in today’s job market. Instead of spending summers and vacations doing research and writing, I traveled. Nearly every summer I signed on with some expedition to view (or once, dig in) ancient ruins: Israel, Greece, Italy, North Africa, Turkey, Germany, France, Peru, Mexico—and, although not centered on antiquities, much of Scandinavia, and the Soviet Union, from Moscow, Leningrad, and Kiev to Samarkand, Tashkent, Tbilisi, and Yerevan. I wish now that I had been a more astute photographer, for I could have snapped many scenes of Christian and Roman-era ruins that would have been useful for teaching. In recent years, I have opted for less physically strenuous, more art-centered trips with various traveling companions (who are also skilled photographers). Taking on New Challenges By the mid-1970s, however, I was restless and ready for new challenges. I was encouraged by a new acquaintance, Herbert Richardson, whom I had met at a conference; he invited me to co-edit a volume of texts on “women and Christianity,” based largely on material I had developed in my course at Mary Washington. This became the sourcebook Women and Religion: A Feminist Sourcebook of Christian Thought, published in 1977 by Harper and Row. I am embarrassed now to note that we titled the book “Women and Religion” when it was entirely about Christianity and contained selections mostly by male authors. (A second, revised edition came out in 1996, with some new selections and commentary provided by thengraduate students Gary Brower and Randall Styers.) The book, still in print, at least had the virtue of offering sections from many important texts about women from Christian antiquity onward. It was a mark of my Vassar education that I insisted students always read primary sources first and foremost. Herbert Richardson was so chagrined that I had not published my dissertation that he inaugurated his publishing enterprise, the Edwin Mellen Press, with my Clement’s Use of Aristotle: The Aristotelian Contribution to Clement of Alexandria’s Refutation of Gnosticism as its first title (published in 1977). In it, I sifted through the complex strands of Hellenistic philosophy to show how Clement appealed to Aristotelian motifs, especially in his ethics of moderation. Sometimes these strands, taken up by other philoso- 8 THE RETROSPECTIVE SELF phers, had not announced themselves as “Aristotelian.” Although Aristotelianism was far from the dominant branch of ancient philosophy borrowed by the Church Fathers, Clement could put Aristotelian themes to good use in his analyses of “faith” (pistis), volition, the virtuous and happy life, and in his description of God as an unmoving Mind. He linked the virtues of Aristotle’s restrained man to the faith, hope, and love of Christian teaching. I concluded: “That Aristotelian motifs could be employed to champion a ‘true gnosticism’ against a false one or to combat anthropomorphism among the ranks of the simple demonstrates a use peculiar to Clement’s situation and era.”3 Although in other circumstances Clement might have preferred to exalt the “passionless Christian gnostic,” in his combat with “heretical” Gnostics, he settled on offering the ordinary mass of Christians an appropriate (and not too rigorous) lifestyle. Here, the education I had received from Paul Oskar Kristeller in Hellenistic philosophy was key. Soon, my interest turned to women in early Christianity: but where to find them? Although there were accounts of female martyrs from the second to the early-fourth centuries, and women’s dress and comportment was frequently the subject of exhortation by male writers of that period (e.g., Tertullian, Cyprian), the great body of extant material about women in late-ancient Christianity dates to the fourth century and beyond, when ascetic renunciation became a prime manifestation of Christian devotion. Under the auspices of the Society of Biblical Literature, an “Ascetic Piety” group formed. I, as well as others in the group, developed our ideas about asceticism in ancient Christianity in its sessions, sometimes held in monasteries a day or two before SBL meetings. (I recall that we spent considerable time arguing about a definition of asceticism.) When I began my research, the topic of asceticism in early Christianity was underexplored— at least by scholars with modern concerns. My quest for “the woman” led me to asceticism. Several interesting Lives of women ascetics had never received an English translation: I had my work cut out for me. Three of my books on women in early Christianity were later published by the Edwin Mellen Press. I am deeply grateful to Herbert Richardson for his willingness to print books on women’s history before that became a topic favored by mainstream presses. (A reviewer or editor at a major university press once sent me a rejection letter that included the advice, “Now why don’t you write on hospitals—that’s an interesting topic.”) 3. Clement’s Use of Aristotle: The Aristotelian Contribution to Clement of Alexandria’s Refutation of Gnosticism (New York, 1977), p. 88. ELIZABETH CLARK 9 While still at Mary Washington College, I was given the opportunity to participate in two NEH-funded summer seminars for college teachers. “The Social World of Early Christianity” was run by Wayne Meeks at Yale University in 1977. This seminar marked one of the first occasions for reading, thinking, and writing about social history and social theory as applied to early Christianity, a topic that subsequently became highly popular. Meeks invited several other scholars at Yale, including Ramsay MacMullen, to speak to our seminar. Together, the group read through works by anthropologists and social theorists. In addition, each of us prepared class presentations on our individual research projects. During that summer, I researched and wrote most of a long essay, “Friendship between the Sexes: Classical Theory and Christian Practice,” which was later printed in my book, Jerome, Chrysostom, and Friends.4 In it, I explored how those Church Fathers came to view at least a few women as comrades-inspirit, joined (as ancient theories of friendship specified) by similar interests. Such intersexual friendship, I argued, was enabled by the women’s ascetic divestment of husbands (who died with amazing rapidity), children, and wealth. Their high social status counterbalanced their otherwise lowly status as females, and their educations, as members of elite families, enabled them to share religious and theological concerns with their male mentors. The important role played by asceticism—for both sexes—in these ventures prompted me to further explore the historical development of this phenomenon. Christian women of late antiquity continued to engage my attention in the 1980s. I provided an introduction to and translation of The Life of Olympias, a young widow of vast wealth who was companion and patron of Bishop John Chrysostom in Constantinople.5 I also translated Chrysostom’s two spritely treatises on “spiritual marriage”: ascetic men and women living together.6 In an age before monasteries and convents were numerous (and even afterwards), house-sharing seemed a practical arrangement for Christian ascetics. (To be sure, Church authorities worried that these couples were sharing more than a house: the practice was condemned by 4. “Friendship between the Sexes: Classical Theory and Christian Practice,” in Clark, Jerome, Chrysostom, and Friends: Essays and Translations (New York, 1979), pp. 35–106. 5. [Anonymous], Life of Olympias (Introduction, Translation, Notes), in Clark, Jerome, Chrysostom, and Friends, pp. 107–44. 6. Chrysostom’s treatises on the subintroductae: Instruction and Refutation Directed against Those Men Cohabiting with Virgins and On the Necessity of Guarding Virginity, in Clark, Jerome, Chrysostom, and Friends, pp. 158–248. In my “Chrysostom phase,” I also wrote a long introductory essay to a translation by Sally Shore of John Chrysostom’s On Virginity and Against Remarriage (New York, 1983), pp. vii–xlii. 10 THE RETROSPECTIVE SELF church councils and by most Christian writers of the period.) “Spiritual marriage,” I argued, also allowed for companionship in the arduous ascetic enterprise. Chrysostom adopted the conventions of Greek tragedy and comedy in his biting and witty portrayals of the dangers such arrangements posed: mockery of the men, woes and sighs for the women.7 A number of my essays in the early and mid-1980s advanced the argument that ascetic renunciation, coupled with generous philanthropy, allowed at least some women of late antiquity to be memorialized in literature. The women about whom I wrote attracted their biographers’ attention not simply because of their holiness and ascetic devotion, but because they came from the highest families of the Roman Empire whose connections, as well as purses, ran deep. Some of these women were amazingly feisty, outwitting not only family members but also facing down important males, including the emperor himself. Elites, however, were not a popular theme with social historians of the 1970s and 1980s, who were pursuing the working classes and issues of labor. In ancient Christian writings, the “little people” had received scarce attention, except as subjects to be exhorted by their bishops to more virtuous living. Since the education that enabled a person to write “literature” (as contrasted, for example, with bills of sale) was usually tied to class, the vast majority of ancient Christians had no way to represent themselves in letters and treatises that would be recopied through the centuries. As for asceticism, Marxist historians balked at the vision of thousands opting for “no social reproduction”—or “reproduction” of any kind. Moreover, there was the problem of sources: historians of late antiquity do not have the extensive court records that made possible the writing of The Cheese and the Worms and Montaillou. Even microhistory, so helpful in capturing moments in the lives of non-elites, seemed near-impossible. The second NEH summer seminar I attended, “Paganism and Christianity in the Fourth Century A.D.,” was directed by Alan Cameron in 1982 at Columbia University. We read in the then-available literature on the thorny questions of “Christianization” and paganism’s fate in late antiquity, a topic that Cameron later developed in his impressive volume, The Last Pagans of Rome (Oxford, 2011). Both NEH seminars in which I participated were highly enjoyable, enlivened by the camaraderie of evening 7. Former Duke graduate student Blake Leyerle wrote a fine dissertation on the topic, now a book, Theatrical Shows and Ascetic Lives: John Chrysostom’s Attack on Spiritual Marriage (Berkeley, 2001). ELIZABETH CLARK 11 talkfests. I thank Professors Meeks and Cameron for inviting me to participate in their seminars and for providing a stimulus for my scholarship. During that summer at Columbia, I finished much of what became my book, The Life of Melania the Younger: Introduction, Translation, and Commentary (New York, 1984). I had begun work on Melania while on an NEH Fellowship for College Teachers in the academic year 1980–81, most of which I spent ensconced in the library of Dumbarton Oaks in Washington, D.C. (Dumbarton Oaks owned one of the two copies in America of the Greek and Latin texts of that Vita, with Italian commentary.8) My commentary and notes on the text contained information on the Roman aristocracy in the fourth century, the fate of noble families and their vast properties with the impending sack of Rome, the building of monastic institutions, and genres of popular literature, among other topics. I asked, for example, were Vitae such as Melania’s like ancient novels? In terms of plot detail, ardent emotions, and adolescent rebellion (as the ascetic renunciation of young Christian females could be construed), my answer was “yes.” The saints’ Lives, however, functioned to very different purpose: no weddings at story’s end, but sackcloth and self-starvation. Already, “pre-Melania,” I had worked with a colleague at Mary Washington College, classicist Diane Hatch, on a translation of and commentary on Faltonia Betitia Proba’s Virgilian Cento.9 This odd piece, a long poem on the creation of the world and New Testament events, strung together from lines and half-lines of Virgil’s poetry, was one of the very few pieces written by a Christian woman in antiquity—if borrowing Virgil’s words counts as “writing.” At the least, the poem showed considerable ingenuity, as Proba transposed words originally applied to Roman deities, Aeneas, and bucolic ideals to describe Adam, Eve, and Jesus. Scholars have debated whether Proba wrote this poem to provide her children with a Christian message in classical dress. More recently, Proba’s identity has been called into question, as more than one woman of her family bore this name. To compose her poem, Proba must have known most of Virgil by heart, given the seeming ease with which she found phrases to describe biblical scenes. That point in itself indicated something about the education of elite Roman women. 8. Mariano Card. Rampolla del Tindaro, Santa Melania Giuniore, Senatrice Romana: Documenti Contemporanei e Note (Rome, 1905). 9. Elizabeth Clark and Diane Hatch, The Golden Bough, The Oaken Cross: The Virgilian Cento of Faltonia Betitia Proba (Chico, CA, 1981). 12 THE RETROSPECTIVE SELF The year 1982 brought a major change in my life. I was offered a full professorship at Duke University, and with some qualms, I accepted. A chief supporter of this appointment was Robert Gregg, who moved to Stanford from Duke Divinity School not long after my move to Durham. He was enormously helpful to me during my first months, taking me to my first (and only) Duke basketball game and explaining what a mortgage was. Despite the trauma of leaving friends and loved ones in Virginia (among them, Rebecca and Donald Reed, Janet Wishner, Diane Hatch, and Susan Hanna, the latter felled too early by cancer), and the unpleasant prospect of moving further afield from my beloved New York, I knew that I should seize the chance to have access to a strong research library and graduate students. Bob Gregg asked me to co-teach a graduate seminar on Augustine with him; that was my first experience of graduate-level teaching. I had much to learn about teaching and mentoring graduate students, but working with them became a happy feature of my new life. I aimed to give them a better start on their professional careers than I had received. (I offered often unsolicited advice on everything from speaking style when giving papers at conferences and job talks to appropriate skirt length and dinner items to avoid while on an interview.) The students who came to Duke to work toward a PhD in late ancient Christianity, as well as other subfields, made me (I often think) the most fortunate professor in that field in North America. The first students who entered Duke’s program were explicitly interested in studying women in early Christianity. Soon after, others came whose interests blossomed beyond my own area of expertise: I always insisted that students choose their own topics, ones that would hold their enthusiasm to the completion of the dissertation and beyond. I now have a very large stack of books produced by those former students, a considerable number of them published by the Divinations series of the University of Pennsylvania Press. This series, edited by Virginia Burrus, Daniel Boyarin, and Derek Krueger, has become an important publishing venue for work in late antiquity. In graduate seminars on Augustine, the Origenist tradition, heresy and orthodoxy in early Christianity, biblical interpretation in early Christianity, and early Christian asceticism, I developed a deeper knowledge of the relevant texts that issued in my publications on these subjects. At the monthly reading groups that graduate students and faculty members from Duke and the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill developed on “Late Ancient Studies” and “Religion, Culture, and Theory,” the encounter with new scholarship was enhanced by food, drink, and conviviality. Many of these sessions were held in my apartment, and a familiar pattern developed: strong critique of the book chapters or articles we were ELIZABETH CLARK 13 reading, but at evening’s end, all agreeing that we had learned a lot, despite our rush to judgment. Through the activities of the Center for Late Ancient Studies (somewhat misnamed, as there is no “Center”), graduate students from the 1980s onward have heard lectures by scholars across the spectrum of ancient studies and have read their work: a valuable contribution to “professionalization.” Still another graduate student group organized by Bart Ehrman of UNC, “Christianity in Antiquity,” gave Duke and UNC graduate students an opportunity to try out their work before their peers. The cooperation between the Duke and UNC programs in early Christianity greatly enhanced the opportunities for graduate students over several generations. Despite the intellectual riches that Duke had to offer, I soon discovered that there were very few women faculty members. At the time I was hired in 1982, out of a faculty of about 500 in the College of Arts and Sciences, there were four women with full-professor rank. For a decade and more, as Duke slowly built its female faculty, I was asked to serve on numerous committees, especially the kind that required senior faculty voices. I learned much about the university in the process. Not all members of the faculty were in favor of the effort to hire women. I heard nasty complaints about departments being required to “hire unqualified women” and was offered unsolicited advice to the effect that if women faculty members just got to work, we wouldn’t need to complain about promotion and tenure rates for women. Indeed, some badly handled tenure and promotion cases in those years became rallying points for female faculty members. The late 1980s and early 1990s were heady times for women’s studies, in which Duke was a national leader. Women faculty members in ancient, medieval, and early-modern studies at Duke, UNC–Chapel Hill, and surrounding institutions formed a group that met monthly to discuss a member’s work-in-progress. Moreover, Duke in these years took on the editorship of the feminist journal SIGNS; serving on its editorial board stimulated my interest in different periods of women’s history and in women’s studies in various humanities and social science fields. In 1989, several of us associated with SIGNS coedited the volume Sisters and Workers in the Middle Ages (Chicago, 1989), containing important essays on ancient and medieval women by both established and rising scholars that originally had appeared in SIGNS. In subsequent years, the study of women in history would shift from the rubric of “find woman, add to the mix, stir” to a more theoretically sophisticated approach, a shift that pushed me to read works often outside my comfort zone. 14 THE RETROSPECTIVE SELF A number of my essays on women and asceticism from the 1970s and 1980s were printed in Ascetic Piety and Women’s Faith: Essays on Late Ancient Christianity (Toronto, 1986). The very title of one essay, “Devil’s Gateway and Bride of Christ: Women in the Early Christian World,”10 suggested the Church Fathers’ ambivalence on the topic of women: had they lured men to their deaths, or were they “angels” of superhuman virtue—or both? This essay proved useful in undergraduate courses that dealt with women in early Christianity—and how male authors depicted, exhorted, and chastised them. A few years later, my essay on “Anti-Familial Tendencies in Ancient Christianity” sometimes provoked heated discussion and even anger on the part of audiences who had been taught that Christianity had always been a chief purveyor of “family values.”11 In these years, I learned (sometimes painfully) that many attendees at my public lectures often held skewed views regarding the New Testament and early Christianity: their annoyed reactions to my talks produced yet more skintoughening. In the 1980s and early 1990s, I set myself the task of learning more about Augustine’s career and thought. Generally conceded to be the most important of the Latin-writing Church Fathers, Augustine left a large body of work whose dates of composition provided clues to his theological development over the years. Augustine, I thought, was too often read “statically,” a reading to which he himself had contributed. Although Augustine was famous for “confessing,” he was equally adept at covering over some aspects of his own development. As his Retractions reveals, he tended to claim that he had always held the same views, with perhaps just a bit of tweaking. Rather, Augustine needed to be read “historically”: his neverceasing change made him a more interesting subject. In addition, his readiness to rough up his opponents after his elevation to bishop brought a spark of excitement. James J. O’Donnell’s Augustine: A New Biography (New York, 2005) provided a different, less flattering, slant than the “old” (and immensely important) biography by Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo (Berkeley, 1967; new ed., 2000). O’Donnell’s chapter titles give a flavor of his approach: “Augustine Unvarnished”; “Augustine and the Invention of Christianity”; “The Augustinian Putsch in Africa.” 10. “Devil’s Gateway and Bride of Christ: Women in the Early Christian World,” in Clark, Ascetic Piety and Women’s Faith: Essays on Late Ancient Christianity (Toronto, 1986), pp. 23–60. 11. “Anti-Familial Tendencies in Ancient Christianity,” Journal of the History of Sexuality, 5 (1995), 356–80. ELIZABETH CLARK 15 Augustine’s relation to Manicheanism captured my interest. In “Vitiated Seeds and Holy Vessels: Augustine’s Manichean Past,”12 I detailed how aspects of Manichean myth and practice left its lifelong imprint on Augustine, a Manichean “Hearer” for nearly a dozen years. Augustine’s pro-reproductive and anti-contraceptive stance as a Catholic bishop, I argued, marked his turn against his former religion. His anti-Manichean theology influenced centuries of church policy on contraception, as did his view that original sin was transmitted through the sexual act. As Augustine’s opponents frequently pointed out, and as seems probable today, his notion that the “seeds” that lead to conception are “vitiated” carries the shadow of his Manichean past. Now, with the excellent volumes of Jason BeDuhn, the deep imprint of Manicheanism on Augustine has received close attention.13 Although Manicheanism left its shadow, I also noted the more positive (from today’s standpoint) aspects of Augustine’s discussion of marriage. In another essay from this period, “‘Adam’s Only Companion’: Augustine and the Early Christian Debate on Marriage,”14 I argued that Augustine’s tentative expression of companionate marriage was hindered by his concern (some might say obsession) with sexual and reproductive functions. In his definition of marriage in City of God XIV.26—“a faithful partnership based on love and mutual respect”—Augustine strikes a seemingly modern note. He was at least partly driven to this view by theological controversies of the time: first Manicheanism; then the Jovinianist controversy, about which we have been well-instructed by David Hunter15; and later, Pelagianism. Positions that he tentatively espoused in the first years of the fifth century became full-fledged claims a decade or so later. Legal theories of “what constituted marriage” (consent of the parties? sexual consummation?) played into the debate. Augustine opted for “consent,” a decision undergirding his view that Joseph and Mary were truly married, 12. “Vitiated Seeds and Holy Vessels: Augustine’s Manichean Past,” in Clark, Ascetic Piety and Women’s Faith, pp. 291–349; repr. in Gnosticism and Images of the Feminine, ed. Karen King (Philadelphia, 1988), pp. 367–401. 13. Jason BeDuhn, The Manichaean Body: In Discipline and Ritual (Baltimore, 2000); Augustine’s Manichaean Dilemma: 1. Conversion and Apostasy, 373–388 C.E. (Philadelphia, 2010); Augustine’s Manichaean Dilemma: 2. Making a “Catholic” Self, 388–401 C.E. (Philadelphia, 2013). 14. “‘Adam’s Only Companion’: Augustine and the Early Christian Debate on Marriage,” Recherches Augustiniennes, 21 (1986), 139–62. John Milton would appropriate Augustine’s phrase. 15. David G. Hunter, Marriage, Celibacy, and Heresy in Ancient Christianity: The Jovinianist Controversy (New York, 2007). 16 THE RETROSPECTIVE SELF despite their lack of sexual relation. Augustine’s more positive views of marriage (expressed in his discussion of Adam and Eve in the City of God) contrasted with those of Jerome, yet he never had actual women friends, as did both Jerome and John Chrysostom.16 My work on this topic resulted in an invitation to compile a small paperback volume, St. Augustine on Marriage and Sexuality (Washington, DC, 1996), based on translations of Augustine’s writing that had appeared in the Fathers of the Church series published by The Catholic University of America Press. Although some important late writings of Augustine were not then translated in that series and hence were not included, the book proved useful for courses in which a short guide to the topic, accompanied by primary-source texts, was a desideratum. A new direction, but one that emerged from my work on Augustine, concerned biblical interpretation in the patristic era. In the centuries before theology became conceptually and philosophically driven, “theologizing” largely involved the interpretation of biblical texts. My essay “Heresy, Asceticism, Adam and Eve: Interpretations of Genesis 1–3 in the Later Latin Fathers” highlighted how those chapters played into debates on heresy and asceticism.17 As early as the opening years of the fifth century, I argued, Augustine gradually abandoned his spiritualized, allegorical readings of Genesis 1–3, so useful in countering Manichean jibes at the coarseness of Old Testament teaching; now, entering the debate between Jerome and Jovinian over the “worth” of marriage, he needed a different interpretation. It was not, in other words, the later Pelagian controversy that impelled Augustine to an interpretation of marriage and reproduction that would mark all later Catholic (and some Protestant) ethics. On the contrary, years earlier, Augustine had worked out his “earthier” approach to the Garden of Eden tale, opting for the view that even in this “fallen” world, marriage had its own “goods.” I concluded the essay, “Sensitive to the needs of Christian polemic, he clipped the wings of his soaring allegories on Genesis, and in so doing, provided a more earth-bound interpretation that was to inform all later Christian sexual ethics.” 16. The differences marking the positions of these three Church Fathers I explored in “Theory and Practice in Late Ancient Asceticism: Jerome, Chrysostom, and Augustine,” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion, 5 (1989), 25–46. 17. “Heresy, Asceticism, Adam, and Eve: Interpretations of Genesis 1–3 in the Later Latin Fathers,” in Clark, Ascetic Piety and Women’s Faith, pp. 353–85; repr. in Intrigue in the Garden: Genesis 1-3 in the History of Interpretation, ed. Gregory Robbins (Toronto, 1988), pp. 99–133. ELIZABETH CLARK 17 Another essay that showed my growing interest in biblical interpretation was “The Uses of the Song of Songs: Origen and the Later Latin Fathers.” I came to consider Origen the most interesting Christian writer of the period, on whose works I had organized a graduate seminar. I argued that Origen’s Commentary and Homilies on the Song of Songs were marked by his time-specific interpretation of a Pauline theme: the reconciliation of Jew and Gentile in Christianity. (Origen is one of the few Greek or Latin writers from his era who appears to have had at least some contact with actual Jews.) A century and a half later, when Jerome and Ambrose mined Origen’s writings, they replaced Origen’s theme with ascetic interpretations of the Song. For example, in Jerome’s famous Letter 22 to the teenaged Eustochium, daughter of his most loyal friend and supporter, he cites that biblical book twenty times to advance his exhortation to ascetic living. To modern readers, interpreting the Song of Songs as a paean to asceticism sounds an unpromising, indeed fantastical, venture, but such are the vagaries of “interpretation.” Although I did not know it at the time, this essay suggested future work on Origen’s theology and on biblical interpretation. At Duke, new influences came to bear. In the late 1980s, at a dinner group of women faculty members to which I belonged, I first encountered the term network theory. My subsequent reading in this field prompted my exploration of the networks of friends and enemies that underlay the controversy of the 390s and beyond over Origen’s writings. Given the large textual output of Jerome, Rufinus, and others of their circles (which importantly included some of the elite ascetic women I had studied), it seemed likely that teasing out the networks of patronage, travel arrangements, correspondence, and gift-giving might offer clues to the rancor of the debates over Origen’s theology, now seen by some as dangerously heretical. My first essay on the topic, “Elite Networks and Heresy Accusations: Towards a Social Description of the Origenist Controversy,”18 led to my larger book, The Origenist Controversy: The Cultural Construction of an Early Christian Debate.19 At first, I (mistakenly) imagined that I might explain a good deal of the controversy simply by an appeal to networks. I soon was chastened by my research: this book would be more “theological” than I had anticipated. Shaped by the Trinitarian and ascetic debates, and later to influence clashes between Augustine and the Pelagians, the Origenist con- 18. “Elite Networks and Heresy Accusations: Towards a Social Description of the Origenist Controversy,” Semeia, 56 (1991), 81–117. 19. The Origenist Controversy: The Cultural Construction of an Early Christian Debate (Princeton, 1992). 18 THE RETROSPECTIVE SELF troversy intersected with patristic campaigns against pagan “idolatry” and Manichean and astrological determinism. Whether Christians of the more doctrinally-developed fourth and fifth centuries could tolerate Origen’s free-wheeling speculation (on such points as the fall of “minds” into souls and bodies, and the possible restoration of the devil) was a central issue. This work introduced me to Evagrius Ponticus, prime theoretician of asceticism in the late-fourth century and closely connected with the circle of Rufinus of Aquileia and Melania the Elder, one group of partisans in the debate. Evagrius has achieved star-status in recent patristic studies, an elevation no doubt assisted by the training in Syriac that many scholars now enjoy. Biblical interpretation in the early Christian era increasingly engaged my interest in the 1990s. In particular, I wondered how the many nonascetic passages of the Hebrew Bible and New Testament could be interpreted to provide (unlikely) support for the Christian ascetic program of late antiquity—and how ascetically-oriented texts (such as I Corinthians 7) were plied to advance it. Here, my reading in literary theory, cultural criticism, and ideology critique was key. Duke in the 1990s was a hotbed of “theory” in the Humanities Division. Under the sagacious eye of provost Philip Griffiths, the Humanities Division emerged from its rather sleepy state as Fredric Jameson, Stanley Fish, Frank Lentricchia, Barbara Herrnstein Smith, Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick, Janice Radway, Toril Moi, Walter Mignolo, Cathy Davidson, Ariel Dorfman, and many others, including exciting junior professors, were added to the faculty. If I wished to talk to colleagues, I needed to be able to speak their language: hence my reading in “theory,” which began to influence my work from the 1990s onward. These interests coincided in Reading Renunciation: Asceticism and Scripture in Early Christianity.20 Here, after providing some background on asceticism and on literacy, books, and reading practices in antiquity, I explored the strategies of “reading” (that is, interpretation) used by various early Christian writers. How could the praise of marriage and reproduction, particularly in the Old Testament, be reconciled with the new Christian emphasis on renunciation? How could Paul’s ascetic exhortations in I Corinthians 7 be made to square with the Pastoral Epistles, especially as 20. Reading Renunciation: Asceticism and Scripture in Early Christianity (Princeton, 1999). Another essay, which explored metaphor theory in relation to ascetic exegesis, was titled “The Celibate Bridegroom and His Virginal Brides: Metaphor and the Marriage of Jesus in Early Christian Ascetic Exegesis,” Church History, 77 (2008), 1–25. ELIZABETH CLARK 19 patristic writers thought that Paul had also penned the latter? Figurative exegesis (allegory and typology), as is well known, was popular.21 Reading a text “literally” or “figuratively” carried practical as well as theoretical consequences: what if monks took Jesus’s praise for the carefree habits of birds of the air and lilies of the field (Matt. 6) to mean that they need not work?22 I especially delved into intertextual exegesis, teasing out how early Christian writers could advance or constrain the message of biblical verses by intertwining or surrounding them with other texts, by calling up allusions and echoes in other passages that would help to create the effect presumably desired by the writer. Some of my chapter titles give a sense of the interpretive process that made the Bible such a gold mine for debates over asceticism: “From Reproduction to Defamilialization”; “From Ritual to Askēsis”; “The Exegesis of Divorce”; “From Paul to the Pastorals.” I was pleased by Averil Cameron’s comment in a “blurb” for the book that I had showed “in devastating detail how the ascetic project came to prevail in the culture wars of early Christianity.” American universities of the late-twentieth century were not the only institutions, nor that century the only period, that experienced them. In the 1990s, I began to argue that the arcane, highly literary Christian texts of late antiquity might be much illumined by modern literary theory, to which historians (as I wished to consider myself) had often been resistant. I heard colleagues decry “theory” in my department and graduate program at Duke, as well as at professional meetings. I hoped to spur some to them to rethink their stance. Earlier, the astounding popularity of Michel Foucault’s writings, especially his volumes on the history of sexuality, gave scholars of early Christianity much to ponder, even as we acknowledged that he had quite overlooked women. Had Foucault lived to complete a 21. I particularly like the comment made by an early-twentieth-century professor on whom I am now working: “the allegorical method served the ancient church as the historical method serves the modern Christian” (Arthur Cushman McGiffert, A History of Christian Thought. Vol. I: Early and Eastern, From Jesus to John of Damascus [New York, 1932/1954], p. 213). 22. Augustine addresses the issue in his fascinating treatise On the Work of Monks. A later essay that explored “literal” and “figurative” readings of Jesus’s claim regarding the ability of the rich to enter Heaven (Matt. 19): “Jews, Camels, and ‘Literal’ Exegesis: The Pelagian Treatise De Divitiis,” in Asceticism and Exegesis in Early Christianity: Reception and Use of New Testament Texts in Ancient Christian Ascetic Discourses, ed. Hans-Ulrich Weidemann (Göttingen, 2013), pp. 428–44. Another of my essays on biblical interpretation shows Tertullian engaging in some fancy interpretive footwork: “Status Feminae: Tertullian and the Uses of Paul,” in Tertullian and Paul, ed. Todd D. Still and David E. Wilhite (New York, 2013), pp. 127–55. 20 THE RETROSPECTIVE SELF projected volume on late-ancient Christian asceticism and monasticism, we would have had even more. Peter Brown’s The Body and Society: Men, Women, and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity (New York, 1988), with Foucauldian overtones, was cited seemingly everywhere. For my 1987 presidential address to the American Academy of Religion, Southeastern Region, I took the topic “Foucault, the Fathers, and Sex.”23 Foucault also provided the impetus for my 1990 presidential address at the American Academy of Religion: “Sex, Shame, and Rhetoric: En-gendering Early Christian Ethics.”24 Here I mined classical rhetoric, anthropology, film theory, and philosophy to suggest how early Christian writers created a rhetoric of shame. “To throw in the face of confessing Christians,” I wrote, “that their behavior was no better than that of Jews, pagans, barbarians, slaves, and even dumb animals—and might be a good deal worse—became a standard rhetorical device productive of ethical norms.”25 In particular, appeals to the bravery of women martyrs and ascetics could be used to shame weaker-spirited Christian men: here, shame became gendered. God the All-Seeing, however, remained the ultimate Shamer. The Panopticon could be instilled within human hearts, and God’s agents—bishops (“overseers”)—could direct their supervisory gaze upon their congregations to enforce rigorous norms. My work on early Christian women, coupled with my new interest in “theory,” led me to think that ideology critique offered a promising theoretical lens through which to probe the texts by ancient male writers pertaining to women. I liked Fredric Jameson’s description of ideology as “strategies of containment,”26 as well as John B. Thompson’s definition: ideology tries “to establish and sustain relations of power which are systematically asymmetrical”; it is “meaning in the service of power.”27 These definitions seemed perfectly tailored for investigating how male authors in late antiquity “fixed,” naturalized, de-historicized, and universalized “woman.” 23. “Foucault, the Fathers, and Sex,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion, 56 (1989), 619–41; repr. in Foucault and Theology: The Politics of Religious Experience, ed. James Bernauer and Jeremy Carrette (Burlington, VT, 2004), pp. 39–56. 24. “Sex, Shame, and Rhetoric: En-gendering Early Christian Ethics,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion, 59 (1992), 221–45. 25. “Sex, Shame, and Rhetoric,” p. 224, emphasis in original. 26. Fredric Jameson, The Political Unconscious: Narrative as a Socially Symbolic Act (Ithaca, NY, 1981), pp. 52–53. 27. John B. Thompson, Ideology and Modern Culture: Critical Theory in the Era of Mass Communication (Stanford, 1990), p. 7. ELIZABETH CLARK 21 From my work on this topic came my essay “Ideology, History, and the Construction of ‘Woman’ in Late Ancient Christianity,”28 which ended with a call to “de-naturalize” and “re-historicize” the conditions that produced these ideologies of gender. Some titles of my essays in the late 1990s signaled a new approach to women in early Christianity. Now, not so much an inquiry into “real women” as a discussion of how male writers in a sense created their subjects: “representation” was at the fore. In “Holy Women, Holy Words: Early Christian Women, Social History, and the ‘Linguistic Turn,’”29 and “The Lady Vanishes: Dilemmas of a Feminist Historian after the ‘Linguistic Turn,’”30 I explored the conceptual difficulties faced by a historian of early Christian women if it was acknowledged that she had limited access to “real” women of the period. What would become of female “agency”? Reading Roland Barthes on “the effect of the real” and Hayden White’s critique of the functions of narrative seemed to deflate our earlier hopes.31 Selecting some examples from late-ancient Christian literature (especially St. Gregory of Nyssa’s writings about his sister, Macrina), I explored what functions these constructions of “woman” served. Inspired by Gabrielle Spiegel’s exploration of the “social logic” of some medieval texts,32 I probed the “theological logic” of these early Christian texts. Although the 28. “Ideology, History, and the Construction of ‘Woman’ in Late Ancient Christianity,” Journal of Early Christian Studies, 2 (1994), 155–84. This essay was also informed by readings in Karl Marx, Anthony Giddens, Michèle Barrett, Louis Althusser, and Roland Barthes, among others: I was in “full theory mode.” 29. “Holy Women, Holy Words: Early Christian Women, Social History, and the ‘Linguistic Turn,’” Journal of Early Christian Studies, 6 (1998), 413–30. 30. “The Lady Vanishes: Dilemmas of a Feminist Historian after the ‘Linguistic Turn,’” Church History, 67 (1998), 1–31. Another of my essays along this line was “Rewriting Early Christian History: Augustine’s Representation of Monica,” in Portraits of Spiritual Authority, ed. Jan Willem Drijvers and John Watt (Leiden, 1999), pp. 3–23. I turned to preNicene Christian literature in “Thinking with Women: The Uses of the Appeal to ‘Woman’ in Pre-Nicene Christian Propaganda Literature,” in The Spread of Christianity in the First Four Centuries: Essays in Explanation, ed. William Harris (Leiden, 2005), pp. 43–52. 31. See for example, Roland Barthes, “L’Effet de Réel,” Communications, 11 (1968), 84–89; trans. as “The Reality Effect,” in Barthes, The Rustle of Language, ed. Richard Howard (New York, 1986), pp. 141–48; Hayden White, “The Question of Narrative in Contemporary Historical Theory,” History and Theory, 23 (1984), 1–33; and “Droysen’s Historik,” History and Theory, 19 (1980), 73–93. Both essays are reprinted in White’s The Content of the Form: Narrative Discourse and Historical Representation (Baltimore, 1987), pp. 26–57, 83–103. 32. Gabrielle Spiegel, “History, Historicism, and the Social Logic of the Text in the Middle Ages,” Speculum, 65 (1990), 59–86. I also found Joan W. Scott’s essays very helpful; some of these are collected in Scott, Gender and the Politics of History (New York, 1988). 22 THE RETROSPECTIVE SELF “woman” had been constructed by the male writer who found her a useful character with which to try out his own ideas, she left her own traces in the text and in the afterlife she enjoyed as a literary heroine. The early 1990s saw members of the North American Patristics Society (NAPS), for which I had recently served as president, eager to start a journal for the society. There were, to be sure, many European journals focused on patristics and, in America, some devoted to special topics such as Augustine. But, given the intellectual ferment of the era, there was no journal in the field that fostered more theoretically and critically inflected approaches to late-ancient Christianity. Moreover, by the 1990s, many members of the society did not consider themselves scholars of “patristics”: the label seemed too churchly, too male, and too traditionally “theological.” (Some were eager to change the name of the society, eliminating the word patristics, but the membership defeated that proposal.33) With no money and dim prospects but enormous enthusiasm, we launched the Journal of Early Christian Studies under the aegis of the Johns Hopkins University Press. I assumed the coeditorship with Everett Ferguson of Abilene Christian College, who for several years had edited the journal The Second Century. J. Patout Burns expended much time and energy making arrangements with the press and later became a coeditor; I wish to thank him for his great services to JECS and to NAPS. The first issue of JECS appeared in 1992. (The first year, the editors worried about having a sufficient supply of good submissions to meet publication deadlines; now, JECS has a backlog of articles awaiting publication.) In 1995 came a proud moment: the Association of American Publishers awarded JECS a prize as “Best New Journal in the Humanities.” In an era before electronic submission and review was prevalent, it was Duke graduate students in early Christianity who mailed out essays to be vetted and did the copyediting. The society would not have this journal if it had not been for them. Today, by contrast, extra income accrued by this journal helps to support the activities of NAPS. It was my work in launching this journal that apparently prompted the University of Uppsala to award me an honorary degree (with full medieval regalia and ritual) in 2001. Among my treasures from that ceremony is a cannon-shell (now repurposed as a vase) that was fired at the 33. For the emergence of new nomenclature and its significance, see my essay, “From Patristics to Early Christian Studies,” in Oxford Handbook of Early Christianity, ed. Susan Ashbrook Harvey and David Hunter (Oxford, 2008), pp. 7–41. In one rancorous meeting of the society, an alternative title, the “Society of Early Christian Studies,” was proposed, but the acronym was off-putting to many members of NAPS. To be sure, “NAPS” did not convey the liveliness of the group. ELIZABETH CLARK 23 moment of my escalation as a “clarissima femina.” Another such degree, minus canon-shell and Latin speech, was awarded to me by Yale University in 2013. In an effort to educate myself better in the area of historiographical developments of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and then to pass on some of that new knowledge to others who might find it useful, I undertook History, Theory, Text: Historians and the Linguistic Turn.34 Here, I was assisted by a fellowship in 2001–02 at the National Humanities Center, conveniently located fifteen minutes from my home. I assured my friends who were “real” theorists that this book was not intended for them, but largely for historians (I had pre-modernists in mind) who might welcome an introduction to various philosophical and literary stripes of “theory” as it affected historiography. I read myself nearly blind. I took “theory” broadly, arguing that it provided insights that could “challenge a text’s self-understanding.”35 After surveying how the recent “culture wars” had unsettled the discipline of history, I offered capsule summaries of approaches to history by twentieth-century philosophers, anthropologists, structuralists, and poststructuralists (some helpful, some less so). I briefly charted currents in French historiography, microhistory, British Marxist historiography, and what I called “the new intellectual history.” I attended to debates over narrative in history, contextualism, and deconstruction.36 At book’s end, I offered some examples from my own and other historians’ writing (notably, Gabrielle Spiegel’s) that I hoped would convince others of the utility of these theoretical currents in illuminating (at least some) ancient and medieval texts. Although the book was undoubtedly an amateur production, various historians and religious studies scholars have told me that it was helpful for them and their students. To be sure, I heard critiques: the texts of history and religious studies occupied a completely different category from, say, symbolist poetry and hence were not appropriate subjects for this kind of literary-theoretical analysis. I also received a sharp (but well-deserved) critique from a more theoretically adept friend who thought I was misguided in cutting short my investigations with theoretical work dating to c. 1980. To be honest, I did not think I was up to coping with the difficulties of Lacanian analysis. 34. History, Theory, Text: Historians and the Linguistic Turn (Cambridge, MA, 2004). 35. As the theoretically-sophisticated medievalist Paul Strohm put it (Strohm, Introduction, Theory and the Premodern Text [Minneapolis, 2000], p. xiv). 36. For my own attempt at a Derridean reading, see “On Not Retracting the Unconfessed,” in Augustine and Postmodernism: Confessions and Circumfession, ed. John D. Caputo and Michael Scanlon (Bloomington, IN, 2005), pp. 222–43. 24 THE RETROSPECTIVE SELF If I now intended to delve further afield, why not ask how “patristics” became a discipline in the United States? How was this quintessentially European intellectual endeavor transported to our shores in the nineteenth century? Originally I was drawn to this topic by puzzling over who had written the rabidly anti-Catholic footnotes in the volumes of the American edition of the Ante-Nicene Fathers series. (The answer: Arthur Cleveland Coxe, Episcopal bishop of western New York in the later nineteenth century, who was repelled by John Henry Newman’s conversion to Catholicism.) This research led me to ponder the teaching of early church history in (largely) Protestant seminaries and universities in America; and so, on to the archives. To trace the beginnings of the study of church history in Protestant America, I picked four institutions (Princeton Theological Seminary, Harvard University and Divinity School, Union Theological Seminary, and Yale Divinity School) that in the twentieth century became distinguished graduate centers for the study of Christian history. I reluctantly dropped from consideration the one Roman Catholic institution I originally intended to include, The Catholic University of America, founded as a research-oriented university. Not only was I overwhelmed with the materials from the four Protestant centers, I also concluded that working through the materials pertaining to the fascinating scholar of early Christianity hired by Catholic University as the founding director of the Department of Oriental Studies, Henri Hyvernat, would require someone with advanced skills in Coptic. I urge a better-qualified scholar to undertake that project.37 Archival research for Founding the Fathers: Early Church History and Protestant Professors in Nineteenth-Century America (Philadelphia, 2011) proved totally fascinating, however hard on the eyes. Scholars of early Christianity did not have at their disposal private journals, travel diaries, let alone class notes, from students as well as professors, which showed the day-to-day operations of academia as well as much else. I was fortunate to have a year off from my professorial duties, assisted by some fellowship aid, to camp out in the archives of these and a few other institutions, digging through numerous boxes of materials. With the year off, plus some extra summer and vacation visits, I was able to wend my way through seemingly unending collections of papers. Hours of work would go by before I found 37. Hyvernat also secured Coptic manuscripts for J. Pierpont Morgan, now in the Morgan Library. On Hyvernat and the manuscripts, see Hans Petersen, “Coptic Studies in the United States of America,” Bulletin de la Société d’Archéologie Copte, 19 (1967–68), 249– 75. I thank Dr. Monica J. Blanchard, curator of the Semitics/ICOR Collections at The Catholic University of America, for assistance on this point. ELIZABETH CLARK 25 “the pearl of great price.” To someone accustomed to dealing with a finite number of printed texts, the sheer amount of material was staggering. Many times I thought I would be defeated by the sheer magnitude of what I had (foolishly) undertaken. A stay at the American Academy in Rome in spring 2008 gave me time to start organizing and writing up the voluminous material I had collected. Finally, Founding the Fathers came to fruition. I would like to thank Jerome Singerman, senior humanities editor at the University of Pennsylvania Press, for shepherding the work, and the editors of the Divinations series, especially Derek Krueger, for valuable suggestions. In Founding the Fathers, I detailed the strong influence of German scholarship on the American professors I studied. Five of the six had studied in Germany, where they marveled at German libraries, professors, seminars, and scholarship, however incompletely they were able to transport German learning back to America. Although the founding of Johns Hopkins in 1876 is often heralded as the beginning of graduate education in America, I argued that decades earlier, seminary professors were providing the closest approximation to graduate-level training that America had yet seen. Their efforts have often been overlooked in the many books and articles on the history of American education. I admired the heroic efforts of these professors, who struggled with resources that seem pathetic by today’s standards—lack of suitable textbooks, few colleagues, inadequate libraries, and sometimes “no pay” on payday—to “found the Fathers” in America. Their approach to the study of early Christianity sometimes embroiled them in denominational disputes and even heresy trials. Most of these professors, deemed liberal in their day, confronted the burgeoning Catholic presence in America with more grace than most Protestants. Their moderating approach offered a new chapter in Protestant America’s progress toward greater tolerance. Their embrace of theories of historical development allowed for a somewhat more generous approach to patristic and medieval Christianity than exhibited by many American Protestant leaders of the time. By book’s end, I was convinced that by the 1890s, major shifts in interpreting Christian history were under way. With Philip Schaff’s death in 1893, an important era of teaching church history in the Protestant institutions of nineteenth-century America began to fade. A new century saw professors of more critical temperament. I hope in a second volume to show how in the early-twentieth century, a German-trained Ritschlian (Arthur Cushman McGiffert of Union Seminary), an exile from Italian Roman Catholic modernism (George LaPiana at Harvard), and social-science-oriented professors at the recently founded University of Chicago 26 THE RETROSPECTIVE SELF (Shirley Jackson Case and Shailer Mathews) introduced new ways of thinking and teaching about Christianity. All were engaged in a “liberal” approach to Christianity that too soon would be buried as “neo-orthodoxy” swept through American Protestantism. Along the way, I immersed myself in the literature of Roman Catholic modernism, a movement for which I came to have much sympathy. Expressing Gratitude and Regret All in all, a rather eclectic career: I branched into byways as well as highways, stumbled into enterprises for which neither my background nor graduate school had prepared me. None of this, however, would have happened without the constant support of friends who stimulated, criticized, traveled, grieved and rejoiced, ate and drank with me. Among those who have supported and encouraged me (amid that food and drink), and who still remain in the area, are Sarah Beckwith, Kalman Bland, Mary Boatwright, Stanley Chojnacki, Deborah DeMott, Maria Doerfler, Bart Ehrman, Valeria Finucci, Mary McClintock Fulkerson, Barbara Harris, Richard Jaffe, Laura Lieber and Norman Weiner, Elaine Maisner, Albert Rabil and Janet Rabil, James Rives and John Johnston, Randall Styers, Kenneth Surin and Janell Watson, Annabel Wharton, and Clare Woods. And so many more colleagues beyond Durham and Chapel Hill; I mention just a few who over the years have shown their friendship in many ways: Judith Bennett and Cynthia Herrup, Daniel Boyarin, David Brakke and Bert Harrill, Ann Burlein, Patout Burns and Robin Jensen,Virginia Burrus, Caroline Walker Bynum and Guenther Roth, Julie Byrne, David Cain, Alan Cameron and Carla Asher, Averil Cameron, Ruth Tonkiss Cameron and Euan Cameron, David Carr and Colleen Conway, Kate Cooper, Raffaella Cribiore, Dyan Elliott, Susanna Elm, Giuseppe Gerbino, James Goehring, Janet Groth, David Hunter and Lynn Hunter, Karen King, Amy Jill Levine and Jay Geller, the late Robert Markus, Tomoko Masuzawa and Donald Lopez, Dale Martin (a former Duke colleague and much missed), Patricia Cox Miller and David Miller, Halvor Moxnes, Madelon Nunn-Miller, Christine Ransom, Philip Rousseau, Michele Salzman, Paul Strohm, Maureen Tilley and Terrence Tilley, Hazel Tishcoff, Jill Thompson, Phyllis Trible, Dennis Trout, Mark Vessey, Robin Darling Young, and Malcolm Young. Thanks to friends who generously offered me space in their homes over summers when I pursued research in New York: in the early years, Carmela and William Franklin, and Deirdre Good; more recently, John and Eileen McGuckin, Brigitte Kahl, and Paul Strohm. “Friendship between the Sexes” was not just a title of one of my early essays. ELIZABETH CLARK 27 Of what am I the most proud concerning my career? The contingent of graduate students who entered academia, equipped with their developed skills and interests to teach new generations of students. Those whose dissertations I either supervised or co-directed are the following—Gary Brower, Julie Byrne, Catherine Chin, Garry Crites, Maria Doerfler, Susanna Drake, Andrew Jacobs, John Lamoreaux, Blake Leyerle, Julia Kelto Lillis (in progress), Christine Luckritz Marquis, Michael Penn, Michael Rackett, Jeremy Schott, Caroline Schroeder, Teresa Shaw, Christine Shepardson, Stephen Shoemaker, Kyle Smith, Maureen Tilley, and Kristi Upson-Saia; there are several dozen more on whose dissertation committees I have served and am serving at Duke and UNC–Chapel Hill. What do I regret the most? Perhaps my own inadequate education; perhaps the time I spent, as one of the first woman professors in the field at a major university, in fighting battles and putting out fires that I hope my own female students do not have to face. I like to think that I have emerged from those encounters with relatively good humor and a zest for future studies and new experiences. Others may protest that my self-representation has crafted a character who is not “Liz Clark.” Didn’t I warn you? “Crowned with Many Crowns” Nuns and Their Statues in Late-Medieval Wienhausen CAROLINE W. BYNUM* The crowning of statues was a common practice in medieval cloisters, but at the north German convent of Wienhausen, the golden crowns of statues were confiscated by Observant reformers after the reformation of 1469. The nuns voiced distress at the loss of these crowns and made new Marian statues with elegant wooden crowns that were irremovable. The author puts the crowns worn by Mary in the context of the crowns worn by the nuns themselves and argues that such elaborate headdresses carried for the sisters many meanings; they include shaping female identity, signaling monastic commitment, and foreshadowing the rewards of heaven. Keywords: Wienhausen; crowns; women’s monasticism; devotional objects; female identity I n the Lüneburg Heath in Lower Saxony lie the foundations of Ebstorf, Isenhagen, Lüne, Medingen, Walsrode, and Wienhausen, six Protestant female communities in the area of the former duchy of BraunschweigLüneburg now under the supervision of the Klosterkammer Hannover, a state authority.1 For art historians, the most important of these is Wien*Caroline W. Bynum is professor emerita of European history, Institute for Advanced Study, Princeton, and University Professor emerita, Columbia University, New York, email: cwbynum@ias.edu. She thanks Jeffrey Hamburger, Eva Schlotheuber, Evelin Wetter, and especially Henrike Lähnemann for very generous assistance. The title of this essay is derived from the well-known hymn by Matthew Bridges (d. 1894), based on Revelation 19:12. 1. Seventeen cloisters and foundations are supervised by the Klosterkammer Hannover. See “Klosterkammer Hannover,” retrieved on April 15, 2014, from http://www.klosterkammer.de/html/kloester_stifte.html. In what follows I use material from the other five Lüneburg cloisters to supplement what we know about Wienhausen. On the Lüneburg cloisters, see Niedersächsisches Klosterbuch: Verzeichnis der Klöster, Stifte, Kommenden und Beginenhäuser in Niedersachsen und Bremen von den Anfängen bis 1810, ed. Josef Dolle with Dennis Knochenhauer, [Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Historische Landesforschung der Universität Göttingen, 56], (Bielefeld, 2012), and Ida-Christine Riggert, Die Lüneburger Frauenklöster, [Veröffentlichungen der historischen Kommission für Niedersachsen und Bremen 37, Quellen und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte Niedersachsens im Mittelalter, 19], (Hannover, 1996). 18 CAROLINE W. BYNUM 19 hausen.2 A backwater in the twenty-first century, Wienhausen was anything but in the medieval period. Altcelle, close by, was the ducal seat in the thirteenth century, and Wienhausen was the ducal house cloister. Founded as a monastery for nuns in the 1220s, affiliated with but not incorporated into the Cistercians, Wienhausen was reformed in 1469 by Johannes Busch according to the Observant reform emanating from Windesheim, a first reformation that ushered in a cultural flowering. But Wienhausen’s buildings and properties were partly destroyed in the midsixteenth century by the efforts of Duke Ernst the Confessor to impose the Lutheran reformation. Like other women’s houses in the area, Wienhausen survived, changing only slowly over the course of the next two centuries. The nuns resisted Communion under two species and avoided the required suppression of the Salve regina until the late 1530s.3 Catholic abbesses were elected until 1587. The Cistercian habit was put off only in 1616; the Latin Hours ended only in 1620; as late as 1722, we find the Prince Elector of Hannover still trying to put a stop to the adorning of images with jewels and clothing.4 Today, the women’s houses of the Lüneburg Heath, securely Protestant in commitment, work to preserve the cultural heritage of the area, a sense of vocation that emerged only in the twentieth century, fostered especially by the success of the 1928 exhibit of tapestries and embroideries made by the nuns of Wienhausen and Lüne. What is astonishing to the Anglophone world, used as it is to the results of the iconoclasm of the British Isles, is that Protestant Germany—and more than any other single place Wienhausen, with its collection of statues, the remarkable “Find” under the choirstalls in 1953 of small devotional objects, and the vibrant paintings of the nuns’ choir itself—is the place where historians, the devout, and the curious public can best still see the art of the Middle Ages, undamaged and sometimes even in situ.5 2. See June L. Meacham, Sacred Communities, Shared Devotions: Gender, Material Culture, and Monasticism in Late Medieval Germany, ed. Alison I. Beach, Constance H. Berman, and Lisa M. Bitel (Turnhout, 2014) with full bibliography. 3. In the Lüneburg cloisters generally, the cult of the saints was forbidden and relics confiscated in 1555. Dieter Zimmerling, Von Zeit und Ewigkeit: Die Lüneburger Klöster (Braunschweig, 1995) gives a good account of the Protestant Reformation. At Wienhausen, the relics of the main altar in the nuns’ choir were removed in 1543. See Horst Appuhn, “Der Auferstandene und das Heilige Blut zu Wienhausen: Über Kult und Kunst im späten Mittelalter,” Niederdeutsche Beiträge zur Kunstgeschichte, 1 (1961), 73–138, here 78. 4. Horst Appuhn, and Christian von Heusinger, “Der Fund kleiner Andachtsbilder des 13. bis 17. Jahrhunderts in Kloster Wienhausen,” Niederdeutsche Beiträge zur Kunstgeschichte, 4 (1965), 157–238, here 175 n. 24. 5. See Horst Appuhn, Kloster Wienhausen, 4: Der Fund vom Nonnenchor (Wienhausen, 1973); Appuhn and von Heusinger, “Der Fund”; and Wiebke Michler, Kloster Wienhausen: 20 NUNS AND THEIR STATUES IN LATE-MEDIEVAL WIENHAUSEN The reasons why Catholic art survives best in Protestant Germany, and especially in women’s cloisters, are complicated. German taste was always, as Jeffrey Hamburger has pointed out, conservative. In the sixteenth- and seventeenth-century south, however, where the Counter Reformation re-directed Catholic piety, baroque revivals removed or plastered over out-of-fashion medieval art. But in the north, the lack of political centralization meant that reform efforts were hard to enforce over large areas, nor was there money for redecorating projects; in Lower Saxony, a number of communities went back and forth between Protestantism and Catholicism. After the peasant depredations in Wittenberg, Martin Luther made it clear that images are adiaphora (indifferent things), dangerous if revered but harmless if used by the faithful to focus their worship on the God beyond, who is the only font of salvation. Hence medieval statues, liturgical vestments, chalices, and so forth survived, sometimes simply overlooked in treasuries, sometimes reused in all their original splendor.6 The Lüneburg convents survived because it was in the economic and dynastic interests of the aristocracy and the patriciate to provide for supernumerary women, and some sort of monastic commitment protected the family inheritance from further demands for dowries or upkeep once daughters or widows were placed. (Even if Protestant ladies could leave the cloister to marry, very few did so.)7 Probably, as Hamburger has also suggested, more Die Wandmalereien im Nonnenchor (Wienhausen, 1968), p. 59. The painting was probably initially done soon after the choir was built in 1308; the Chronicle tells us that it was renewed in 1488 by three nuns named Gertrude; it was again restored in 1867–68. Since the rather sharp black outlines of the figures long continued to show through, it is likely that the restorers followed the originals closely. Moreover the paintings as we see them today follow the style of the late Romanesque of the region. 6. Johann Michael Fritz, “Die bewahrende Kraft des Luthertums – Mittelalterliche Kunstwerke in evangelischen Kirchen,” and Günther Wartenberg, “Bilder in den Kirchen der Wittenberger Reformation,” in Die bewahrende Kraft des Luthertums: Mittelalterliche Kunstwerke in evangelischen Kirchen, ed. Johann Michael Fritz (Regensburg, 1997), pp. 9–18 and 19–33, and Jeffrey Hamburger, “Am Anfang war das Bild: Kunst und Frauenspiritualität im Spätmittelalter,” in Studien und Texte, pp. 1–43, here pp. 3–5. In her introduction to Iconography of Liturgical Textiles in the Middle Ages, ed. Evelin Wetter (Riggisberg, 2010), pp. 7–15, Wetter comments on the large number of survivals in Protestant Hungary. 7. The goal of providing for daughters and widows was not the only reason for survival. Piety continued. See Wolfgang Brandis, “Quellen zur Reformationsgeschichte der Lüneburger Frauenklöster,” in Studien und Texte zur literarischen und materiellen Kultur im späten Mittelalter: Ergebnisse eines Arbeitsgesprächs in der Herzog August Bibliothek Wolfenbüttel, 24.–26. Febr. 1999, ed. Falk Eisermann, Eva Schlotheuber, and Volker Honemann (Leiden, 2004), pp. 357–91, here pp. 359–60, and Merry Wiesner-Hanks, Introduction, in Convents Confront the Reformation: Catholic and Protestant Nuns in Germany, ed. and trans. Merry Wiesner- CAROLINE W. BYNUM 21 survives of women’s monastic art in German areas because, given the extraordinary flowering of women’s monasticism, there was more there to begin with. Although the munificence of the dukes and others to the convents gradually fell away in the early-modern period, the art survived, protected by lack of funds from damaging renewal. In the twentieth century, at the demand of the sisters and in keeping with their new historicist vocation, some of the pieces that had been removed to museums were returned.8 I wish to begin this essay with a discussion of two Wienhausen statues of the Madonna, especially the colorful history of her crowns. Wienhausen is an ideal test case for what we can learn from objects because we do not have, for the north of Germany, the mystical writing and books of revelations by women that flowered, especially in the Rhineland, in the fourteenth century—works that have been used with such skill by a number of historians, preeminent among them Ulinka Rublack, to gloss the spiritual meaning of the adorning of statues in liturgical performance and private devotion.9 From the Lüneburg cloisters, we do not have the words of impassioned devotion lavished by a Margaret Ebner on the Christ child or the piling up of remarkable visions in nuns’ books such as those of Unterlinden or Töss, although we must also note that similar works had died out even in the south by the fifteenth century under the pressure and skepticism of theologians and Observant reformers.10 From Wienhausen and her sister houses, we have archival documents, prayer books in Latin and the vernacular, visitation reports of reformers, diaries (Tagebücher) and letters, a number of small devotional pictures (sometimes glossed) made by the nuns themselves, and several chronicles, among them one from Wienhausen, written in the seventeenth century but drawn from a much earlier account.11 Nonetheless, objects are the best place to start in exploring the nature of the nuns’ devotion. Hanks and Joan Skocir, [Reformation Texts with Translation (1350–1650)], (Milwaukee, 2004). But spiritual life slowly attenuated. 8. Horst Appuhn, Kloster Wienhausen: Aufnahmen von Hans Grubenbecher, Dietrich Klatt und Jens Rheinländer (Wienhausen, 1986), pp. 22–23, 61. 9. Ulinka Rublack, “Female Spirituality and the Infant Jesus in Late Medieval Dominican Convents,” Gender and History, 6 (1994), 37–57. 10. See Werner Williams-Krapp, “‘Dise ding sint dennoch nit ware zeichen der heiligkeit’: Zur Bewertung mystischer Erfahrungen im 15. Jahrhundert,” Zeitschrift für Literaturwissenschaft und Linguistik 80 (1990), 61–71, here 66–67, and Clare Taylor Jones, “Rekindling the Light of Faith: Hymn Translation and Spiritual Renewal in the Fifteenth-Century Observant Reform,” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies, 42, (2012), 567–96, here 570 and 592 n. 12. 11. Chronik und Totenbuch des Klosters Wienhausen, intro. Horst Appuhn, 3rd ed. (Wienhausen, 1986). On sources generally, see Brandis, “Quellen.” 22 NUNS AND THEIR STATUES IN LATE-MEDIEVAL WIENHAUSEN FIGURE 1. Wienhausen, Enthroned Madonna, late-thirteenth century. Photo: Klosterarchive Wienhausen. I begin with an 89-cm-high Madonna and child, often called the “enthroned Madonna” (see figure 1), made in the late-thirteenth century at the same time as several other important devotional figures at Wienhausen. Much of the original color survives, although the throne has been partly pried open, perhaps to remove relics, the right hand, which probably held a scepter, has disappeared, and most of the sixty-six golden eagles that once decorated her blue mantle have been ripped off. Part of a dress that was made for her by the nuns still survives, and the groove that runs around her head shows that she was from the beginning intended to carry a removable crown.12 Indeed, wear on the head suggests that several crowns may have been alternated during the liturgical year. We know from the survival of at least twenty garments made for the Wienhausen images that the nuns clung to the practice of adorning their statues.13 The large number of needles, thimbles, and sewing materials such as thread and pearls found under the steps of the choir in 1953 sug12. Charlotte Klack-Eitzen, Wiebke Haase, and Tanja Weissgraf, Heilige Röcke: Kleider für Skulpturen in Kloster Wienhausen (Regensburg, 2013), p. 52. A dress for the naked Christ child held by the so-called processional Madonna also survives. Ibid., p. 53. 13. These garments have recently been published in a magnificent catalog with detailed discussion; see Klack-Eitzen et al., Heilige Röcke. CAROLINE W. BYNUM 23 gests that the sisters did needlework there; inventories down into the eighteenth century list dresses, crowns, and jewelry for the statues; and repairs to the garments themselves suggest that they were in use well into the seventeenth century, although some of their decorations, especially the gold bangles, were cut off and sold. The memorial book of Wienhausen gives evidence (unfortunately undated) of garments and jewelry donated specifically to statues.14 A crown and scepter of the sort with which the enthroned Madonna might have been adorned survive in the August Kestner Museum in Hannover; a similar crown, woven of wire with artificial flowers, survives for the Christ child from Heiligkreuz in Rostock, now in Güstrow.15 “Corona” in the Middle Ages meant both crown and wreath, although German texts distinguish “kranz” and “krone.” A few reliquary busts survive with woven wreaths, which evoke the bridal garlands bride and bridegroom had exchanged since antiquity as symbols of fertility and affection; more such busts and statues possess golden and jeweled crowns of the “Bügel-” (hoop) or “Reifen-” (ring) shape, evoking royalty and power.16 Although the Church Fathers, distancing themselves from pagan ceremonial, refused any language that implied human bestowal of crowns (only God crowns the martyrs), by the Middle Ages human beings regularly granted crowns to the saints.17 Even royal crowns were sometimes donated to statues: for example, the crown made for the baby Otto III was given to the Golden Madonna at Essen and later reduced in size to fit her head.18 14. Chronik und Totenbuch, pp. xlii, xliv, and lxi. (Page numbers refer to those of the original manuscript. Arabic numerals refer to the Chronik; Roman numerals refer to the Totenbuch. For the Chronicle, the editor has reordered the material to make it chronological.) 15. Klack-Eitzen et al., Heilige Röcke, pp. 21–23; Hamburger, “Am Anfang,” pp. 33 and 35. The Christ child from Heiligkreuz is still sometimes displayed with his crown. 16. Krone und Schleier: Kunst aus mittelalterlichen Frauenklöstern: Ruhrlandmuseum, die frühen Klőster und Stifte 500–1200: Kunst- und Ausstellungshalle der Bundesrepublik Deutschland, die Zeit der Orden 1200–1500, ed. the Kunst- und Ausstellungshalle der Bundesrepublik Deutschland, Bonn, and the Ruhrlandmuseum Essen (Munich, 2005), pp. 394–95. On the parallel to bridal wreaths, see Désirée Koslin, “The Robe of Simplicity: Initiation, Robing, and Veiling of Nuns in the Middle Ages,” in Robes and Honor: The Medieval World of Investiture, ed. Stewart Gordon (Basingstoke, UK, 2001), pp. 255–74, which uses almost exclusively English material. 17. N. Gussone, “Krönung,” and A. Laag, “Kranz,” in Lexikon der Christlichen Ikonographie, 2 (Freiburg, 1970), pp. 661–71 and 558–60; and E. Vavra “Kleidung,” and V.H. Elbern, “Krone,” Lexikon des Mittelalters, 5 (Munich, 2002), 1198–1200 and 1544–47. 18. Krone und Schleier, pp. 166–67. In 1474, Mary of York’s wedding crown was presented to the cathedral at Aachen, where it is still today placed on a devotional statue at festivals; see Klack-Eitzen et al., Heilige Röcke, p. 21. 24 NUNS AND THEIR STATUES IN LATE-MEDIEVAL WIENHAUSEN Yet the fourteenth- and fifteenth-century crowns of Wienhausen’s enthroned Madonna do not survive. And we know why. The Chronicle tells us that, in the 1469 reform: [T]he Duke and the Reformers came once more into the cloister and when all were assembled in the choir, the abbot of St. Michael’s commanded every sister . . . to surrender all money and dishes and other things they possessed before. . . . And they agreed and brought . . . from the summer refectory pots, kettles, jars, and other . . . vessels and also the best veils they were accustomed to use on feast days and other valuable things for God’s service, which they had made with much work. And the abbess of Derneburg took these and similar things as a thief would and through her nuns and friends in Braunschweig and elsewhere sold them for a small price, among them silver spoons, golden rings, and two golden crowns worked artfully from the best gold. And also several gold crowns for the images of Mary, Alexander and other saints, and a gold chain set with pearls and precious gems on which were images of the saints . . . and decorations and valuable things from the choir—all of these were taken from the cloister. . . . They were promised to be returned but they were never seen again. . . . The images of the saints and their adornments were held in low esteem, and many good customs were abolished and declared to be foolishness, and from these [acts] many a soul that was at peace before was cast into anguish and sadness.19 We know from other sources that the Observant reformers were attacking both the proliferation of private devotional objects and what they saw as ostentatious display (for example, those “best veils”) in the cloister.20 We also know both that the nuns of the Lüneburg cloisters struggled to restore the wealth of their chapels and their properties, despite repeated confiscations, and that private devotion, including the use of small prayercards and devotional objects in private cells, as well as radical differences among the sisters in habit and food, continued. As Robert Suckale has explained, houses of aristocratic canonesses in Germany never practiced poverty of life, and Wienhausen—despite its affiliation with the Cistercians—was in many ways more like a house of canonesses.21 When in 19. Chronik, pp. 22–23. According to Brandis, “Quellen,” p. 391, the sixteenth-century reformers showed some bad conscience about later confiscations of the nuns’ property. 20. On efforts by the reformers Johannes Meyer and Johannes Busch to curb private devotion, which also make clear that it continued, see Jeffrey F. Hamburger, The Visual and the Visionary: Art and Female Spirituality in Late Medieval Germany (New York, 1998), pp. 440–41. 21. Robert Suckale, Die mittelalterlichen Damenstifte als Bastionen der Frauenmacht, [Kölner Juristische Gesellschaft, 25], (Cologne, 2001). CAROLINE W. BYNUM 25 1499, a widow of the ducal house was lodged at Wienhausen, her aristocratic attire was accepted. “Her habit was outwardly worldly but her modesty was religious and pious . . . .”22 If the community initially opposed her entry, it was not because of her wealthy accoutrements but because they feared (as turned out to be the case) that the income promised to support her would not be forthcoming.23 The nature and process of the fifteenth-century reform, about which others have written, are not what concern me here, however. What interests me is that we have in these lines one of the very few expressions in the entire Wienhausen Chronicle of spiritual concerns. The loss of the saints and their adornments, including those “artfully worked” golden crowns, caused spiritual as well as economic anguish. Although the miracle-working figure of the resurrected Christ was given a new silver crown after the confiscations, we do not have clear evidence that Mary’s removable crowns were restored during the reigns of the next two Wienhausen abbesses.24 But a new Mary figure, made around 1480, the so-called processional Mary (see figure 2), who was provided with iron hand-grips so she could be carried, had a very elaborate crown and scepter made of wood; her regalia were, so to speak, built in. The apocalyptic Mary placed on the high altar made for the nuns’ choir in 1519 also has an elaborate wooden crown.25 Thus, whatever happened—and we 22. Chronik, p. 32. The vision of St. Anne received by the ill abbess Katharina von Hoya shortly before 1433 is also instructive; Chronik, p. 14. Understanding herself to be chastised for spending lavishly on her private dwelling, the aristocratic abbess made that dwelling into a chapel. But the resplendent dress of the St. Anne who appeared to her was understood to be entirely appropriate. See June Meacham, “Katharina von Hoya’s Saint Anne Chapel: Female Piety, Material Culture, and Monastic Space on the Eve of the Reformation,” in Frauen-Kloster-Kunst: Neue Forschungen zur Kulturgeschichte des Mittelalters: Beiträge zum Internationalen Kolloquium vom 13. bis 16. Mai 2005 anlässlich der Ausstellung “Krone und Schleier,” ed. Jeffrey F. Hamburger, Carola Jäggi, Susan Marti, and Hedwig Röckelein in cooperation with the Ruhrlandmuseum Essen ([Turnhout], 2007), pp. 177–85. 23. Nowhere in late-medieval piety is there the assumption that equality of religious value or of piety means sameness. However much the Observant reformers may have wished to enforce upon women’s houses both claustration and poverty, no medieval Christian could fail to note (as both text and image clearly demonstrated) that even after the Last Judgment, resurrected bodies would bear their individuality and indicate their unequal statuses in their headgear. For an excellent discussion of the nuns’ relationship to “property,” both before and after the Observant reform, see Meacham, Sacred Communities, pp. 89–126. 24. Susanna Potstock (1470–1501), a reformer who was accepted by the convent, and Katharina Remstede (1501–49, driven from the cloister for several years during efforts to impose the Lutheran reformation). 25. See Appuhn, Kloster Wienhausen: Aufnahmen, plate 27. 26 NUNS AND THEIR STATUES IN LATE-MEDIEVAL WIENHAUSEN FIGURE 2. Wienhausen, Processional Madonna, c. 1480. Photo: Klosterarchive Wienhausen. know that opposition to the practice of clothing and crowning statues increased during efforts to impose the Lutheran reformation—the new processional Mary and the Mary of the high altar of 1519 could not lose their crowns again. Crowns mattered. Why? A number of historians, among them Richard Trexler, Ulinka Rublack, Jeffrey Hamburger, and Amy Powell have explored with sympathy the practice of adorning statues that was formerly ridiculed as the craving of deprived or frustrated women for erotic experience or motherhood.26 Powell, building on some of the ideas of Joseph Koerner, has argued that dressing statues, and constructing them with movable arms or legs to facilitate dressing, causes distance and becomes a prelude to the demotion of the image into an object that presages Reformation iconoclasm. A doll that can be manipulated declares itself not alive. In contrast, a number of his26. Richard Trexler, “Der Heiligen neue Kleider. Eine analytische Skizze zur Be- und Entkleidung von Statuen,“ in Gepeinigt, begehrt, vergessen: Symbolik und Sozialbezug des Körpers im späten Mittelalter und in der frühen Neuzeit, ed. Klaus Schreiner and Norbert Schnitzler (Munich, 1992), pp. 362–402; Christiane Klapisch-Zuber, “Holy Dolls: Play and Devotion in Florence in the Quattrocento,” in Women, Family, and Ritual in Renaissance Italy (Chicago, 1985), pp. 310–31; Rublack, “Female Spirituality and the Infant Jesus”; Hamburger, Introduction in Klack-Eitzen et al., Heilige Röcke, pp 7–8; Amy Knight Powell, Depositions: Scenes from the Late Medieval Church and the Modern Museum (New York, 2012), pp. 81–95, 167–209. CAROLINE W. BYNUM 27 torians stress that clothing a statue gives it value and presence; changing its clothes makes the body underneath both more mysterious and more alive. Despite these differences of emphasis, what is clear in both interpretations is that adorning an image is a reciprocal and processual gesture; it gives agency to both the one doing the clothing and the one clothed; it is an experience extended over time, not a mere moment of encounter. In the complex religious act that is sometimes denominated do ut des but also involves “the distinctive devotional logic of presence” in which part is whole, the devotee gives to Mary the crown she wears in heaven, just as she will give, or has given, grace and love, comfort and presence, to the devotee.27 Indeed, as Thomas Lentes has brilliantly demonstrated, what he calls fictive crowns are reciprocal, too.28 The nuns of Töss who wove a garment for Mary with their devotions but needed to say fifty additional prayers in order to complete its sleeves, the sisters in Strasbourg who made for St. Ursula through prayer “a golden crown . . . befitting . . . a queen,” the roses depicted in a late fifteenth-century painting as plucked from the mouth of a Dominican and woven into a rosary wreath by Mary—all are part of reciprocal gift-giving. Intimate and vibrant, the exchange is also proleptic.29 Both in the temporal process of praying and in the realm outside of earthly time, the devotee gives and receives, lifted into glory by a gift that is the giver herself. Another story in the Wienhausen chronicle refers explicitly to the enthroned Mary. It tells of a goldsmith, who was unjustly thrown into 27. I borrow the phrase “devotional logic of presence” from Robert A. Orsi, The Madonna of 115th Street: Faith and Community in Italian Harlem, 1880–1950, 3rd ed. (New Haven, 2010), p. xvi; I have called this way of seeing the “concomitant habit of mind” in Caroline Walker Bynum, Christian Materiality: An Essay on Religion in Late Medieval Europe (New York, 2011), pp. 208–15. Do ut des—I give that you may give—is frequently invoked as a fundamental characteristic of religious worship. 28. Thomas Lentes, “Die Gewänder der Heiligen—Ein Diskussionsbeitrag zum Verhältnis von Gebet, Bild und Imagination,” in Hagiographie und Kunst: Der Heiligenkult in Schrift, Bild und Architektur, ed. Gottfried Kerscher (Berlin, 1993), pp. 120–51. For the example from Töss, see ibid., p. 120. 29. Lentes, “Die Gewänder,” pp. 124–25. On the development of rosary devotion in this period and its importance for nuns, see Rosenkränze und Seelengärten: Bildung und Frömmigkeit in niedersächsischen Frauenklöstern, ed. Britta-Juliane Kruse (Wiesbaden, 2013), especially Julie Hotchin, “Meditations for a nun’s coronation from Wöltingerode,” pp. 117–24. See also June Meacham, “Reading between the Lines: Compilation, Variation, and the Recovery of an Authentic Female Voice in the Dornenkron Prayer Books from Wienhausen,” Journal of Medieval History, 29 (2003), 109–28, here 121, with examples of nuns offering crowns of prayers to Mary. For the St. Ursula example, see Hamburger, The Visual and the Visionary, p. 78 n. 208. 28 NUNS AND THEIR STATUES IN LATE-MEDIEVAL WIENHAUSEN prison, where he had little hope of freedom until an angel appeared and advised him that he should make a golden crown for “the Mary image in the chapel in the middle of the cloister at Wienhausen.” When he promised to do this, the angel freed him; he then went to Wienhausen to measure Mary’s head and made a crown for her with his own hands. Although in this case reward preceded gift, the reciprocity of the gifting is clear.30 I cite a third story from the Chronicle that demonstrates the way in which clothing and crown were not only part of a complex gift-exchange but also markers, indeed creators, of identity.31 In 1529, after the onset of the second or Lutheran reformation, the wife of a burgher of Braunschweig came to the convent and attempted to force her daughter to flee. Although the abbess hid the girl, the mother threatened to denounce the cloister to the duke, so the abbess permitted the girl to go home, supposedly for three days only. But the girl’s parents then pressured her to renounce the cloistered life “and when she did not want to conform to their will, they took away from her the cloister-wreath and habit [Kloster-Krantz und Habiet]” and forced her to take other clothes. The girl, however, arising very early while her parents slept, managed to escape, and fled to Wienhausen. When she arrived, she found the doors locked. So she waded through the Aller river, came to the cloister on the other side, and hurried into the choir where the sisters were singing and praying. Shocked by the appearance of a wet and bedraggled figure in worldly clothes, the nuns feared that a catastrophe, such as enemy attack or fire, had occurred. (They obviously thought a secular person had breached the bounds of the choir.) When finally the girl was recognized, thanks were given, and in the presence of all the sisters, the abbess robed her again in “spiritual clothes.” Although this was not (alas, for the nuns and for the girl) quite the end of the story, it makes clear that both for the parents, who insisted on removing crown and habit, and for the sisters, who did not recognize the girl in her worldly attire, clothing constituted identity. This story, with its singling out of the Kloster-Krantz as a sign of the nun’s identity, suggests that the crowns of statues, whether removable or not, may need to be viewed in a wider context. For the nun’s crown was especially important in the liturgy and the life of north German convents and, as we shall see, stood in a special relationship to Mary’s heavenly crown. In order to understand this, it is important to note that the role of 30. Chronik, p. 142. We are told explicitly that this story concerns the crown that “was at the time of the first reformation taken out of the cloister along with many other things.” 31. Chronik, pp. 67–70. CAROLINE W. BYNUM 29 clothing in constituting the nun has not, until the recent work of Eva Schlotheuber, been very well understood.32 From the days of the early Church, the significance of clothes had been debated. Pope Celestine I in 428 said: “We distinguish ourselves from others by doctrina not vesta.”33 Lothar of Segni, in his work on the misery of the human condition, told with disapproval the conventional story of a philosopher valued for his dress rather than his virtues; as Pope Innocent III, he ruled that “it is not the habit that makes the monk but profession of the rule.”34 Monastic clothing was a witness, just as the reliquary witnessed the holiness of the relic it contained or the king’s garments bodied forth his power; the habit could even be understood as a sign that helped conduce into being what it signified. But in the north German area, the monastic habit was not itself consecrated, and the male novitiate was a real probationary period, at the end of which the novice made a choice.35 In the wake of the emphasis on personal intentionality that characterized piety from the twelfth century on (an emphasis that led to the rejection of male child oblation and to an understanding of monastic entrance fees as simony), vow not garb—that is, the making of profession, freely and as an adult, not the habit—was understood to constitute the monk. In large part because latemedieval reformers and canon lawyers attempted to insist that this should be so for nuns, historians have sometimes assumed the same for convents. 32. Eva Schlotheuber, Klostereintritt und Bildung: Die Lebenswelt der Nonnen im späten Mittelalter. Mit einer Edition des ‘Konventstagebuchs’ einer Zisterzienserin von Heilig-Kreuz bei Braunschweig (1484–1507) (Tübingen, 2004); Eva Schlotheuber, “Ebstorf und seine Schülerinnen in der zweiten Hälfte des 15. Jahrhundert,” in Studien und Texte, pp. 169–221; Eva Schlotheuber, “Klostereintritt und Übergangsriten: Die Bedeutung der Jungfräulichkeit für das Selbstverständnis der Nonnen der Alten Orden” in Frauen-Kloster-Kunst, pp. 43–55; and Eva Schlotheuber, “Best Clothes and Everyday Attire of Late Medieval Nuns,” in Fashion and Clothing in Late Medieval Europe/Mode und Kleidung im Europa des späten Mittelalters, ed. Rainer C. Schwinges and Regula Schorta with Klaus Oschema (Basel and Riggisberg, 2010), pp. 139–54. See also Evelin Wetter, “Von Bräuten und Vikaren Christi. Zur Konstruktion von Ähnlichkeit im sakralen Initiationsakt,” in Similitudo: Konzepte der Ähnlichkeit in Mittelalter und Früher Neuzeit, ed. Martin Gaier, Jeanette Kohl, and Alberto Saviello (Munich, 2012), pp. 129–46. 33. Quoted in Gil Bartholeyns, “Les objets contre les symboles: une sociologie chrétienne et médiévale du signe,” in La performance des images, ed. Alain Dierkins, Gil Bartholeyns, and Thomas Golsenne, [Problèmes d’histoire des religions, 19], (Brussels, 2010), pp. 137–56, here p. 142. 34. Ibid., pp. 138–39 and 147. Jean-Claude Schmitt, “Les images et le sacré,” in La performance, pp. 29–46, and Thomas Golsenne, “Parure et culte,” in ibid., pp. 71–85, are also very helpful. 35. Schlotheuber, Klostereintritt und Bildung, pp. 139–40. 30 NUNS AND THEIR STATUES IN LATE-MEDIEVAL WIENHAUSEN As Eva Schlotheuber has shown, however, the rituals of female monasteries—especially those of north Germany—were different.36 The practice of oblation—the giving of very young girls to the cloister by their relatives or guardians—continued and was performed with the clear understanding that they were to become nuns.37 In oblation, relatives made a vow for the child that she could, in theory, later reject. But we know of no cases in north Germany in which this happened. Although technically still not monastic in status, the girl thus offered put aside her worldly clothes and received an unconsecrated habit and an unconsecrated nun’s crown, constructed of two strips of fairly narrow white cloth that crisscrossed over the head and joined a band that went around the forehead (see figures 3 and 4). Not bound to the monastic vocation, the child nonetheless looked like a nun and was socialized as such. At Wienhausen, the offered child was placed physically on the altar, as a kind of visible sacrifice—a practice to which the fifteenth-century reformers objected as a violation of the prohibition against women inhabiting sacred space. So important was the ceremony to the convent, however, in part because it mirrored the presentation of the Virgin Mary in the temple when she was three years old, that the abbess, Katharina Remstede, in the opening decade of the sixteenth century commissioned a theological treatise to defend the practice. At Lüne (the abbey about which we have the fullest information) the next stage in the fashioning of the young nun was her investiture (Einkleidung). At least three years after entry but often much longer, the girl was invested with a consecrated habit, girdle, and head-covering in a ceremony that took place in the nuns’ choir and was the only occasion on which parents were permitted to enter the cloisters’ inner walls. It was followed by a great feast, with dance and song, hosted by relatives, which paralleled a bridal feast, and was probably for the young woman the high point of the socialization process. The girl also received gifts from her family, which might include little statues of the saints, Jesus dolls with their clothes, or even (despite the efforts of reformers) fine veils for the girl herself. On this occasion, the crown she had worn before was taken away to be appliquéd 36. Schlotheuber, Klostereintritt und Bildung, p. 160. 37. The idea that convents served primarily to educate the female children of the aristocracy before they left to marry is a mistaken interpretation by modern historians, who have extrapolated back from the postreformation period, although such uses of convents were undoubtedly sometimes made; see generally Schlotheuber, Klostereintritt und Bildung, in ibid., pp. 112–14, Schlotheuber cites a late-fifteenth-century chronicler who warns that secular girls with their “worldly clothing” in red and gold, with pearls and expensive headbands, would bring “corruption” for the future nuns. CAROLINE W. BYNUM 31 FIGURE 3. Wienhausen, vault painting of donor, Agnes of Meissen, and her husband with abbesses and provosts, early-fourteenth century, restored in 1488 and 1867–68. Photo: Klosterarchive Wienhausen. at the five intersections with red crosses symbolizing the wounds of Christ. The consecrated crown was supposedly returned to the woman only when the bishop arrived to place it on her head and hear her profession, but that might not happen for many months or even years—not in fact until someone had died and made available a cell for the new nun. Both oblatio (which involved the parents’ vow on behalf of the child) and investiture with the habit were understood in canon law to constitute over time a tacita professio—that is, simply by wearing the nun’s garb without articulated objection, the young woman promised a life of virginity. So unimportant did the act of profession become that, as Schlotheuber has observed, the sources seldom speak of either a novitiate or of professio.38 Hence, for the nun, clothes made the person in a sense not true for the monk, or the priest, or 38. At the Holy Cross cloister in Braunschweig, for example, the crucial term for transition to nun’s status became the coinage dies mansacionis (from mansare or manere)—that is, the day on which the nun moved into her own cell. Schlotheuber, “Klostereintritt und Übergangsriten,” p. 50. And see Julie Hotchin, “The Nun’s Crown,” Early Modern Women: An Interdisciplinary Journal, 4 (2009), 187–94. 32 NUNS AND THEIR STATUES IN LATE-MEDIEVAL WIENHAUSEN FIGURE 4. Right panel from Altenberg altar, showing a Premonstratensian nun venerating St. Elizabeth of Thuringia (bottom left) and the coronation of the Virgin (top right), c. 1330. Photo: © Städel Museum: ARTOTHEK. even the male aristocrat (although his clothes were increasingly determined—and privileged—by sumptuary legislation).39 In this constituting of the nun, at least in north German convents, the veil was legally the key, but it was the corona that made manifest the nun’s hidden spiritual status as the sponsa of Christ. To many medieval theorists, the person’s head was the locus of her or his greatest likeness to Christ.40 Moreover, head-covering is in many cul39. J. Schneider, “Kleiderordnungen,” in Lexikon des Mittelalters, 5, 1197–98, and Ulinka Rublack, Dressing Up: Cultural Identity in Renaissance Europe (Oxford, 2010), pp. 81–123. 40. Wetter, “Von Bräuten,” p. 130, and Schlotheuber, “Best Clothes,” p. 146. On head-covering as a sign of status and its difference for men and women, see Gabriela Signori, “Veil, Hat or Hair? Reflections on an Asymmetrical Relationship,” The Medieval History Journal, 8, no. 1 (2005), 25–47, retrieved on February 20, 2014, from http://mhj.sagepub.com/ content/8/1/25. CAROLINE W. BYNUM 33 tures the major sign of female status—both marital status and social class— and German nuns themselves provide evidence that the crown was particularly important in their self-definition.41 A Tagebuch from the Braunschweig Kreuzkloster makes it clear that the nuns wore their crowns even to bed.42 As Julie Hotchin has pointed out, bishops found the threat to remove crowns an effective way of enforcing discipline, and in Saxony, convents fought hard against Lutheran reformers who wished to forbid crowns.43 We have some evidence, visual and textual, of what the crowns actually looked like. In the twelfth century, Peter Abelard mentions nuns’ crowns with red crosses, and Tengswich of Andernach’s letter to Hildegard of Bingen, criticizing her for dressing her nuns in bridal array, with embroidered crowns, is well known.44 In the fifteenth century, the reformer Johannes Busch criticized canonesses for wearing crowns decorated with gold.45 We have textual evidence from Lüne of crowns with red silk crosses and Henrike Lähnemann has pointed to several illuminations in Medingen manuscripts, showing nuns with red crosses over their veils, including a miniature (Hamburg Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek Cod. in scrin 149 [HH8] fol. 10r) where a nun’s head has been cut out and replaced with a new drawing when the style of the convent’s headgear changed.46 One of the little prayer cards discovered under the choirstalls at 41. Hotchin, “The Nun’s Crown”; Wetter, “Von Bräuten”; Schlotheuber, “Best Clothes”; Koslin, “The Robe of Simplicity.” 42. Schlotheuber, Klostereintritt und Bildung, p. 162 n. 204, and Schlotheuber, “Best Clothes,” p. 153 n. 61. 43. Hotchin, “The Nun’s Crown.” The chronicler of the monastery of Heiningen near Hildesheim rejoiced, during a brief period of re-Catholicization: “we put on our crowns again.” Ibid., p. 194 n. 19. 44. The reference in Abelard is cited in Wetter, “Von Bräuten,” p. 134 n. 24; Tengswich’s letter is cited in ibid., p. 135 n. 27, and Schlotheuber, “Best Clothes,” p. 153. For Hildegard’s defense, which rests on the claim that her virgins are wedded to holiness, see Barbara Newman, Sister of Wisdom: St. Hildegard’s Theology of the Feminine (Berkeley, 1987), pp. 221–22. The real veils and crowns described in Tengswich’s letter are identical to those in Hildegard’s vision in Scivias 2.5 [Corpus christianorum: continuatio mediaevalis, 43], (Turnhout, 1978), pp. 174–75 and plate 14. 45. Johannes Busch, Liber de reformatione monasteriorum, in Chronicon Windeshemense und Liber de reformatione monasteriorum, ed. Karl Grube, [Geschichtsquellen der Provinz Sachsen und angrenzender Gebiete, 19], (Halle, 1886), p. 603. 46. I am grateful to Henrike Lähnemann for these references; she points also to Hildesheim Dombibliothek MS J 29 (Hl1) fol. 52r. See Ulrike Hascher-Burger and Henrike Lähnemann, Liturgie und Reform im Kloster Medingen: Edition und Untersuchung des PropstHandbuchs Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Lat. liturg. e. 18 (Tübingen, 2013), pp. 99–103, here p. 101; Hans-Walter Stork, “Handschriften des ehemaligen Zisterzienserinnenklosters Medingen zur Zeit der Klosterreform im 15. Jahrhundert und in nachreformatorischer Zeit,” 34 NUNS AND THEIR STATUES IN LATE-MEDIEVAL WIENHAUSEN Wienhausen shows a nun with her red crosses, and there is a painting on the vault of the nuns’ choir that shows an abbess in her crown (see figure 3).47 In colonial Mexico, certain orders of nuns wore elaborate wreaths or crowns of flowers and jewels, whereas Brigittine nuns today wear metal crowns with red crosses, and other orders wear simple circlets of myrtle or thorns.48 This evidence suggests that there may be two somewhat different traditions of crowning, one that emphasizes assimilation of the virgin nun to Christ’s bride through suffering, the other more a foreshadowing of her glory in heaven. The fact that the “Find” under the Wienhausen choirstalls included three manuscripts of meditation on the crown of thorns (Dornenkrone) suggests that references to crowns at Wienhausen had many valences, including both passion and triumph.49 Eva Schlotheuber has argued convincingly that the crowns of the Lüneburg cloisters not only symbolized the commitment to virginity but also, by assimilating the new nun to the bride of the Song of Songs, elevated a life of virginity far beyond the “lay” status to which nuns were relegated by canon law. She quotes from the second reform report from Ebstorf, where a nun spells out this spiritual significance: “On the crown are four red crosses . . . which mean the five wounds of our crucified hus- in Evangelisches Klosterleben. Studien zur Geschichte der evangelischen Klöster und Stifte in Niedersachsen, ed. Hans Otte (Göttingen, 2013), pp. 337–60, here pp. 349–53 and figure 6; and Henrike Lähnemann, “Schnipsel, Schleier, Textkombinatorik. Die Materialität der Medinger Orationalien,” in Materialität in der Editionswissenschaft, ed. Martin Schubert (Tübingen, 2010), pp. 347–58, here p. 352. On the Medingen manuscripts, see http://research.ncl.ac.uk/medingen, accessed May 30, 2014. 47. For the little image of Bernward of Hildesheim venerated by a nun in her crown, see Appuhn, Kloster Wienhausen, 4: Der Fund, p. 33; for the vault painting, see Michler, Kloster Wienhausen: Die Wandmalereien, p. 59. 48. Elizabeth Perry, “Convents, Art and Creole Identity in Late Viceregal New Spain,” in Women and Art in Early Modern Latin America, ed. Kellen Kee MacIntyre and Richard E. Phillips (Leiden, 2007), pp. 321–41, here p. 338. The crowns worn by Latin American nuns look very much like some of the crowns that survive for medieval statues. See Hamburger, “Am Anfang,” pp. 33 and 35, figures 4, 7, and 8. At Marienstern in Saxony, the nuns who vow perpetual virginity are even today buried with their myrtle crowns; Marius Winzeler, “Die Bibliothek der Zisterzienserinnenabtei St. Marienstern. Zu Geschichte und Bestand einer frauenklösterlichen Büchersammlung des Mittelalters,” in Studien und Texte, pp. 331– 56, here p. 342. For an image of the Brigittines’ crown, see “Brigittines,” retrieved November 30, 2013, from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bridgettines. For the Handmaids of the Precious Blood, who today wear circlets of real thorns at their profession and in death, see “Handmaids of the Precious Blood,” retrieved November 30, 2013, from http://www.nunsforpriests.org/ Vocations/Vocations/ProfessionCeremony.html. 49. Meacham, “Reading Between the Lines,” and Meacham, Sacred Communities, pp. 205–60. CAROLINE W. BYNUM 35 band, which we bear as the signs of the wounded Christ on our heads . . . as it says in the Song: ‘You have wounded my heart, my sister, my bride,’ that is, through love.”50 In the first reform report, an Ebstorf sister went further, claiming a status that in some ways mirrors Mary’s Immaculate Conception: “To this noble and worthy condition, God foresaw us and pre-elected us before we were received in our mother’s body.”51 To my knowledge, there is only one surviving nun’s crown from the Middle Ages. Now in the possession of the Abegg Stiftung in Riggisberg, Switzerland, it came on the art market in 2001 and is of unknown provenance.52 Two bands of lovely twelfth-century silk cross over the head and are held in place with a silk circlet. (The blue cap that provides support underneath is sixteenth or seventeenth century.) Attached are five appliqués in gold thread: the lamb of God, an angel, a cherub or seraph, a king with raised hands (probably Solomon), and (on the crossing) a star (possibly a reference to Stella Maris). In a sensitive analysis, Evelin Wetter goes beyond the suggestion that the crown constructs the nun as Christ’s bride and argues that it fashions her into similitude to the Virgin herself, crowned as queen of heaven by her son at her ascension.53 The texts and objects that survive from late-medieval women’s cloisters help us to understand the multiple ways in which “crowning”— whether of the young nun herself or of the statues of Mary and the saints, whether with a physical crown of silk or gold wire or with a “fictive” wreath or corona of prayers—actually shaped the one crowned and bound her into a reciprocal relationship. Giving to the queen of heaven yet another crown was a participation in her eternal crowning and inclined her to give gifts to the giver in return. A bestowal of the consecrated nun’s crown, whether embroidered with the saving wounds of Christ or with the angels who celebrate Mary’s place at the right-hand of her son, lifted the young nun toward the glory to which she aspired by her virginity. Yet we should be 50. Schlotheuber, Klostereintritt und Bildung, p. 164 n. 217: “In corona sunt quattuor cruces rubee cum trans{ . . . }nant crucifixi sponsi nostri quinque vulnera, quod in signum Christi vulnerati gerebimus in capite, ut semper simus memores nostri sponsi, in canticis ubi dicit: ‘Vulnerasti cor meum, soror mea sponsa,’ scilicet per amorem.” 51. Schlotheuber, Klostereintritt und Bildung, p. 162. On the occasion of her nieces’ investiture, an abbess of Medingen called the new nuns “co-citizens of the angels.” Schlotheuber, Klostereintritt und Bildung, p. 166: “concives angelorum.” 52. In conversation (January 28, 2014), Evelin Wetter told me that the sale catalogue suggested French provenance, but she considers this unlikely. For a color image of the crown, see Schlotheuber, “Best Clothes,” p. 146, figure 7. 53. Wetter, “Von Bräuten.” 36 NUNS AND THEIR STATUES IN LATE-MEDIEVAL WIENHAUSEN careful not to go too far in understanding the crowns offered to Mary, Christ, and the saints as literally the accoutrements of heaven or in assimilating the crowned nun here on earth to her heavenly reward. Both the texts and the objects show us that the nuns themselves saw a gap between earth and heaven. Gertrude the Great (d. 1301 or 1302) of the Saxon convent of Helfta, whose Spiritual Exercises provide a lengthy commentary on the nun’s crowning, speaks of the nun’s consecration as a process toward heaven. Christ promises: “I will make you a robe of the noble purple of my precious blood; I will crown you with the choice gold of my bitter death.” And the young sister prays in response: “Make me to go on my way to you in my nuptial gown among the prudent virgins.”54 The crown is both the crown of thorns and the bridal wreath. The crowning is reciprocal: Christ and the nun are clothed with each other, and this is completed only in heaven.55 The nun prays: “And after this life, may I deserve to receive the crown of chastity in a long white gown among a lily-like band, following you, lamb without spot, son of the Virgin Mary, wherever you go.”56 In the homier stories of Gertrude’s Legatus, much of which was written about her by her sisters, Gertrude questions why a certain person who has died receives the garment of glory immediately while an equally worthy person, still alive, is not yet clothed with the “marvelously embroidered” robe of Christ.57 The implication is clear: on earth the garment can still be soiled and wrinkled. The crown the nun receives at her earthly investiture both is—and is not yet—her crowning in heaven. Crowning rituals from the Lüneburg cloisters show the same awareness of both the collapsing together and the distinction of earth and 54. Gertrude of Helfta, Oeuvres spirituelles, 1: Les Exercices 3, ed. Jacques Hourlier and Albert Schmitt, [Sources chrétiennes 127], (Paris, 1967), pp. 98 and 104; also Gertrude the Great of Helfta, Spiritual Exercises 3, trans. Gertrud Jaron Lewis and Jack Lewis, [Cistercian Fathers Series, 49], (Kalamazoo, 1989), pp. 43 and 47. And on Gertrude’s use of clothing metaphors, see Michael Bangert, “The Metaphor of the Vestment in the Writings of Gertrud of Helfta (1256–1302),” in Iconography of Liturgical Textiles, ed. Wetter, pp. 129–39. 55. See Gertrude, Legatus divinae pietatis 3.18, ed. the monks of Solesme, Revelationes Gertrudianae ac Mechtildianae 1 (Paris, 1875), p. 151: Christ speaks: “Ecce jam induor te ad hoc ut delicatam manum meam illaesam extendere possim inter hispidos peccatores, ad benefaciendum eis; et vestio te meipso ad hoc, ut omnes quos in tua memoria ad meam ducis praesentiam . . . ad illam trahas dignitatem, ut eis secundum meam regalem munificentiam benefacere possim.” 56. Gertrude, Les Exercices 3, ed. Hourlier and Schmitt, p. 118; Exercises 3, trans. G. J. Lewis and J. Lewis, p. 54. 57. Gertrude, Legatus 3.65, pp. 241–42. CAROLINE W. BYNUM 37 heaven. In a notice about the nuns’ crowning of 1464 at Ebsdorf, a sister describes why Easter and the five Sundays after are all suitable for the “twofold espousal” of the nun to her bridegroom. The text closely assimilates the crowns Christ wins for souls by his precious blood and the crown the nun receives both now and “in the future” as reward for her virginity.58 But a passage from a Middle Low German prayerbook from the neighboring convent of Medingen makes clear in the nuns’ own words that the coronation is completed only after death. The Easter liturgy is here understood as a dialogue between Christ and the soul, in which the nun’s crown becomes an attribute of the resurrected body.59 When our dear Lord hears the praise offered by Holy Christendom, he says to the devout soul: Resurrexi et adhuc tecum sum—I am risen from the dead and have taken back to me all the glory [clarcheit] and honor which I have had from the beginning of the world. Et adhuc tecum sum—and I am still with you, o devout soul, by my grace, and I shall sustain in you the blessedness which you will receive from me when I take you from this world to me, because you take me now to you in true commitment. Then I shall lay upon you the hand of my honor and shall crown you because you bear . . . some grief when remembering my suffering, and therefore you will be with me in eternal joy. Then you will be shown to the angels, since I will create anew your mortal body in the image of the clarcheit of my body. This you will receive after this life as I have received it twofold in my resurrection, in my Godhead and my humanity.60 The crowning is reciprocal, both present and future. Christ and the nun each enfold the other in love, but the final crowning is in heaven, when the mortal 58. Schlotheuber, Klostereintritt und Bildung, pp. 164–65 nn. 220–23. 59. Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin—Preussischer Kulturbesitz MS germ. oct. 265, fols. 90v–92r, which is Medingen BE 3, a Middle Low German prayerbook from the Cistercian Convent of Medingen, Lower Saxony; probably written by a lay sister. I thank Henrike Lähnemann for calling my attention to this. 60. “Wan de leve got horet dat loff der hilgen cristenheit so (91r) secht he to der innigen sele also: “Resurrexi et adhuc tecum sum”—Ick bin upgestan van dem dode unde hebbe wedder to mi genamen alle de clarcheit unde ere, de ik gehad hebbe van ambeginne der werlt. “Et adhuc tecum sum”—unde bin noch mi di, o innige sele, virmiddelst miner gnade unde an mi is behude salicheit, de du van mi nemen scholt, wan ik van desser werlt di to me neme darumme dat du mi nu to di nimpst in waren loven. Denne wil ik up di lecghen de hant miner ere unde wil di kronen, darumme dat du (91v) underwilen mine hant drichst vei wesen in der ewigen froude. Denne scholtu wunderlick openbaren den enghelschen gheisten, wan ik dinen sterfflicken licham wedder schippen wille, lick gebildet der clarcheit mines lichammes. Dit scholtu tomalen emfangen na dessem levende, alse ik in miner upstandinge twevolt entfangen hebbe an miner gotheit unde an miner minscheit.” Transcription by Henrike Lähnemann; translation by Lähnemann and Bynum. 38 NUNS AND THEIR STATUES IN LATE-MEDIEVAL WIENHAUSEN body is created anew in the gifts of the resurrection.61 We are reminded of those medieval depictions of the Last Judgment in which naked figures rising from the dead are still distinguished in status by their headgear.62 This proleptic and processual quality is also seen in what the crowns actually looked like. Even the elegant surviving crown now at Riggisberg, although it may in form be a kind of Bügelkrone with gold embroidery, does not physically point upward as do royal crowns of the type we see on the processional Madonna at Wienhausen (see figure 2) or on the multitude of saints and martyrs depicted on the Wienhausen ceiling. Indeed, if we compare the nun’s crown (a simple cap) worn by the abbess in the image of the convent’s founders on the Wienhausen vaults (see figure 3) with adjacent images of the twenty-four golden-crowned elders of the Apocalypse or the diadem used by Christ to crown his mother in heaven, they do not appear to be the same sort of crown at all. The contrast is even more striking if we consider an image of 1519 from Marienstern, which shows a novice being shorn. Beside her, a nun holds the simple cap she will later receive as her crown. Above, breaking out of the picture space, hovers the very different sort of golden crown she will receive only in heaven.63 The image most frequently used by scholars to illustrate the medieval nun’s crown shows the same contrast (see figure 4). A panel (about 1330) from the Altenberg Altar pairs a Premonstratensian nun as donor wearing her modest crown and venerating St. Elizabeth of Thuringia with a panel above on which Christ crowns Mary in heaven with a golden diadem whose pinnacles gleam, thrusting upward. Over Elizabeth, an angel hovers with the crown of glory she supposedly wears in heaven, but even it has not quite come to rest on the saint’s head. Depicted as eternally giving clothes to beggars as she did while on earth, even the departed and sanctified Elizabeth seems almost still in process toward the coronation Mary has achieved in heaven. The little donor nun in the left hand corner wears a crown but not yet a crown of glory. Indeed, the Mary depicted on the vaults of Wienhausen, like the processional Madonna whose wooden crown was safe from confiscation by reformers (see figure 2), were themselves foreshadowings of heaven. Many scholars have recently emphasized the living quality of late-medieval 61. Clarcheit or Claritas is one of the four gifts with which the immortal soul endows the resurrected body, according to scholastic theology; see Caroline Walker Bynum, The Resurrection of the Body in Western Christianity, 200–1336 (New York, 1995), pp. 131–32. 62. See, for example, ibid., plate 33. 63. Winzeler, “Die Bibliothek,” p. 343, figure 3. CAROLINE W. BYNUM 39 objects and the tactility and visuality of medieval devotion. This emphasis is not wrong. It mattered to nuns to think that what they gave to the Virgin was a wreath of prayer-flowers just as it mattered to wear on earth a crown of white silk that signaled a special place already reserved in heaven. The power of objects was at the center of late-medieval piety. At its very heart lay the assumption that part contains whole and vice versa; that past, present, and future each not merely mirror but contain the other. Without this, there cannot be hope of the salvation of the soul and the resurrection of the body. Such assumptions made the crowns of statues and the crowns of nuns both transient and permanent, both earthly and heavenly. Just as Mary was understood to be delighted and obligated by the goldsmith’s crown, so the young nun was bound and molded for heaven by her white silk crown. In a sense, her crown, won by her perpetual virginity, is the crown of the Madonna. Confiscation of it or of Mary’s crown is a threat to the nun’s monastic identity. Nonetheless we should be careful about taking such assumptions too literally, lest we fall back into the description of late-medieval piety as static and quantitative that is often attributed to Johan Huizinga.64 Medieval nuns may not all have thought in the sophisticated terms voiced by Gertrude of Helfta when she quoted a text attributed to Hugh of St. Victor, but they were all aware of the temptations of daily life and the depredations of time that consume objects. Gertrude, or the nun recording her visions, argues that invisible things cannot be understood without visible images. Thus we need “images of milk and honey,” just as the Apocalypse of John tells us that the heavenly Jerusalem is “adorned with gold and silver and pearls and other kinds of gems.” But “we know that there is nothing of this sort there, where however there is nothing lacking. For if no such things are there in outward appearance [per speciem], they are all there in likeness [per similitudinem].”65 Hence neither the nun’s earthly crown nor the crown stolen from the enthroned Madonna is Mary’s crown in heaven. Whether or not they quoted such abstract theories of presence and representation, the nuns of the Lüneburg Heath thought in terms of two 64. Johan Huizinga, The Autumn of the Middle Ages, trans. Rodney J. Payton and Ulrich Mammitzsch (first Dutch ed. 1919; Chicago, 1996). 65. Gertrude, Legatus 1.1, pp. 10–11. A translator of the work, whose translation of the passage in question differs from mine, reports that she has found no work by Hugh of St. Victor to which the author might refer here. Gertrude, The Herald of Divine Love 1.1, trans. Margaret Winkworth (New York and Mahwah, 1993), p. 89 n. 8. Gertrude, Oeuvres spirituelles 2: Le Héraut, livres 1–2 1.1, ed. Pierre Doyère [Sources chrétiennes 139], (Paris, 1968), pp. 126–27, gives no reference. 40 NUNS AND THEIR STATUES IN LATE-MEDIEVAL WIENHAUSEN espousals, earthly and heavenly, and saw a deep as well as a literal significance in their crowns. Crowns mattered as objects but not only as literal objects. In the liturgy and in inner devotion, nuns and their statues were “crowned with many crowns.” Proleptically and processually, the crowns of earth were and were not the crowns of the eternal Jerusalem. But it mattered that they were crowns.66 Understanding the many crowns of fifteenth-century piety and practice helps us understand a little better why the Wienhausen nuns, who tried to model themselves on the Mary crowned in heaven, felt spiritual as well as economic deprivation when her crowns were confiscated in the 1469 reform. 66. It is worth underlining the importance given to glory, heavenly marriage, and resurrection in the piety of north German convents, especially at Wienhausen with its numerous depictions—in glass, wall paintings, sculpture, and small devotional images—of the risen Christ. See Appuhn, “Der Auferstandene.” The emphasis in much of the scholarly literature on suffering, violence, and pain in late-medieval spirituality is, at least for these houses, considerably overdone. From Patristics to Late Antiquity at The Catholic Historical Review ELIZABETH A. CLARK* Since The Catholic Historical Review, founded to focus on North American Catholic history, has published few articles on early Christianity, this essay focuses mainly on the book reviews published. Since 1915, there have been major shifts in the historiography of late antiquity and late-ancient Christianity. More recent interest in social and cultural history has strongly influenced the creation of new areas of scholarship. Keywords: The Catholic University of America, historiography, late antiquity, patristics, social history A quarter century after the founding of The Catholic University of America, its historians launched The Catholic Historical Review (CHR), the intended focus of which was the history of American Catholicism.1 In the CHR’s first years, topics pertaining to early Christianity usually surfaced only in popularizing works or those aimed at the edification of Catholic youth. Over the course of its 100-year history, the CHR has printed only a handful of articles on ancient Christianity, although the patristic era did receive extensive attention in texts and studies published by The Catholic University of America Press.2 Distinguished scholars in the field of early Christianity at Catholic University in its early decades, *Dr. Clark is the John Carlisle Kilgo Professor of Religion Emerita in the Department of Religious Studies at Duke University, email: lizclark@duke.edu. The author wishes to thank then-graduate student Maria Doerfler for editorial assistance. 1. As stated in the inaugural issue of the CHR by Bishop Thomas Shahan, “Introductory: The Spirit of the Catholic Historical Review,” CHR, 1 (1915), 5–12. If no reference to the CHR is listed for books discussed, the CHR did not review that book. 2. Praise for Roy Deferrari’s work in establishing the Patristic Studies series in 1922: Frederick W. Dickinson, reviewing Deferrari’s Saint Basil, The Letters, with an English Translation (New York, 1926), CHR, 13 (1927), 293–95. Examples include: Miriam Annunciata Adams, The Latinity of the Letters of Saint Ambrose, [Patristic Studies, 12], (Washington, DC, 1927), reviewed by F. W. D., CHR, 13 (1927), 549–51; Martin R. McGuire, trans., S. Ambrosii de Nabuthae: A Commentary, [Patristic Studies, 15], (Washington, DC, 1927), reviewed by William P. H. Kitchin, CHR, 13 (1928), 718–19. 27 28 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY such as Johannes Quasten, apparently deployed their talents more in the service of book series and handbooks than with the CHR.3 One might explain the absence of this subfield from The Catholic Historical Review by appealing to the fact that its founding focus was on Catholicism in the United States. Yet, over the years, the CHR branched out to include essays on Catholicism in Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America, and other geographical regions—and worked its way back to the Middle Ages, where it apparently stopped. The near-absence of materials on ancient Christianity thus seems an odd lapse. What other reasons for this absence might be adduced? One could argue, for example, that much scholarship on early Christianity was theological in nature (as suggested by the term patristics) and thus of less interest to a journal of history. Authors and journal editors alike may have seen theologically oriented journals as more appropriate publishing venues—and a number of European journals specialized in such work. Moreover, late antiquity emerged as a distinctive field in the latter half of the twentieth century; in times past, the fourth to sixth centuries tended to be considered either as a period of decline or as a mere prelude to the Middle Ages, rather than as a field in its own right. Still another possible reason for the lack of essays might be adduced: early Christianity’s historical reconstruction and “development” were targets of the Vatican’s antimodernist decrees of 1907 and 1910. Catholic authors and editors at the CHR, founded a few years thereafter, may have deemed it wise to avoid topics that the Vatican had so decisively condemned. (Indeed, Catholic University’s Henry Poels, a biblical scholar, was dismissed from his professorship under pressure from Pius X and Cardinal 3. Johannes Quasten’s role in founding the series Ancient Christian Writers and Studies in Christian Antiquity is warmly noted in Robert Eno’s review of Kyriakon : Festschrift Johannes Quasten, 2 vols., ed. Patrick Granfield and Josef A. Jungmann (Münster, 1970), CHR, 58 (1973), 575–77. W. H. C. Frend praises the Ancient Christian Writers series in his review of G. W. Clarke, trans., The Letters of Cyprian of Carthage, vol. 1, Letters 1–27, [Ancient Christian Writers, 43], (New York and Ramsey, NJ, 1984), CHR, 71 (1985), 450– 51. For reviews of Johannes Quasten’s three-volume Patrology, see Edgar R. Smothers, reviewing Patrology, vol. 1, The Beginnings of Patristic Literature (Westminster, MD, and Utrecht-Antwerp, 1950), CHR, 37 (1952), 438–39; Henry G. J. Beck, reviewing Patrology, vol. 2, The Ante-Nicene Literature after Irenaeus (Westminster, MD, and Utrecht-Antwerp, 1953), CHR, 40 (1954), 288–90; Henry G. J. Beck, reviewing Patrology, vol. 3, The Golden Age of Greek Patristic Literature from the Council of Nicaea to the Council of Chalcedon (Westminster, MD, and Utrecht-Antwerp 1960), CHR, 47 (1961), 360–61. Volume 4, edited by Angelo Di Berardio, covers later Latin authors: Patrology, vol. 4, The Golden Age of Latin Patristic Literature from the Council of Nicea to the Council of Chalcedon (Westminster, MD, 1986), reviewed by Stephen J. Schäfer, CHR, 74 (1988), 316–17. ELIZABETH A. CLARK 29 Raffaele Merry del Val, then secretary of state at the Vatican.4) I touch on some of these possible reasons in what follows. Given the lack of articles on which to comment, the present essay differs from others in this collection in its concentration on book reviews. This focus constitutes a problem for spotting trends, for the choice of books to be reviewed appears to have been quite haphazard for much of the CHR’s history; important volumes were passed over while some of no great significance were reviewed. It remains unclear whether in times past major European and American presses automatically sent their new publications to the CHR, or whether editors had to request specific books. Moreover, in the early decades of the CHR, I suspect the editors did not have access to a large pool of expert reviewers in many subfields. Some of the local talent on which the CHR relied (such as the indefatigable Martin McGuire) was excellent; much was not. Reviewers sometimes appeared to know relatively little about the subject at hand or to have much sense of what constituted a helpful book review. To be sure, the fact that book reviews in the CHR are relatively short did not give reviewers much opportunity to present authors’ theses or to develop their own claims and critiques. From midcentury on, however, the quality of reviews improved noticeably. In recent decades, when the editors could corral talent such as James O’Donnell’s, stellar reviews that attended to the intellectual context of the book and trends in the field, as well as the author’s arguments, became more common. In addition, reviews in the CHR now cover more of the important new books in the field. In this essay I link historiographical trends to the books actually reviewed by the CHR: the footnotes citing the books reviewed serve as the documentation for the trends I note in the text of the essay. Given some lapses in the CHR’s coverage, however, I note other books (and a few articles) on early Christianity that signal these trends. In the first decades of the CHR, confessional loyalties were often undisguised; “Protestant” interpretations or appeals to suspect German historical scholarship were sharply critiqued. For example—and this as late as 1954— reviewer Joseph M.-F. Marique, rejecting Hans Lietzmann’s claim that historians cannot prove the divinity and resurrection of Jesus or the virgin conception, warned that to put Lietzmann’s books “in the hands of the 4. See Gerald P. Fogarty, “American Prelude to Modernism: The Catholic University and Henry Poels,” in American Catholic Biblical Scholarship: A History from the Early Republic to Vatican II (San Francisco, 1989), chap. 5. 30 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY immature is definitely a peril.”5 At times, dubious historical claims regarding the first Christian centuries (especially concerning Peter) were championed in the name of Catholic loyalty: reviewer Francis X. Murphy called one such book “bad history and poor theology.”6 Gradually, a higher standard of scholarship was in evidence: authors wrote from the primary sources7 and gradually forsook pious and apologetic stances.8 (An example of the latter: an author writing in 1924–25 posited that early Christian writers intended to affirm the Trinitarian formula of baptism, even when they did not cite or allude to it.9) With the passing of the years, improbable claims (e.g., that Luke got details of his infancy story from the Virgin Mary10) and confessional biases of various sorts would more often be roundly critiqued.11 5. Joseph M.-F. Marique, reviewing Hans Lietzmann, Geschichte der alten Kirche, 4 vols. (Berlin, 1953), CHR, 40 (1954), 64–66. Also see John M. Lenhart, reviewing J. T. Shotwell and L. R. Loomis, The See of Peter (New York, 1927), CHR, 14 (1928), 266–72. 6. See Francis X. Murphy’s critique of Michael M. Winter, St. Peter and the Popes (London and Baltimore, 1960), CHR, 47 (1961), 352–54. See also Murphy’s review of A. Rimoldi, L’Apostolo San Pietro, nella chiesa primitiva, dalle origine al Concilio di Caledonia (Rome, 1958), CHR, 46 (1960), 46–48. But traditionalists continued to express older views; see Reginald Weijenborg’s review of Jaroslav Pelikan’s The Christian Tradition, vol. 1. Pelikan has not considered Christian doctrine “in its constitutive and normative period, which according to constant Catholic teaching goes roughly from Christ’s birth to the death of the last Apostle”: Weijenborg, reviewing Pelikan, The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine, vol. 1, The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition (100–600) (Chicago, 1971), CHR, 58 (1973), 578–80. 7. Authors are chastised for using the older Patrologia Migne when better editions in the Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum are now available: see Roy J. Deferrari’s critique of Peter E. Hebert, Selections from the Latin Fathers (Boston, 1924), CHR, 10 (1925), 602–03, here 603. 8. Pious: Shahan, “Introductory,” CHR, 1 (1915), 5–12. Also see Shahan’s essay “The Apostolic See,” CHR, 9 (1924), 501–16. Apologetic: Modern researchers no longer appeal to catacomb art to justify contemporary Catholic devotional practice; see Simon Ditchfield, reviewing and critiquing Antonio Bosio, Roma sotteranea (reissue, Rome, 1998), CHR, 86 (2000), 305–08. By 1934, a reviewer compliments an author for writing history wie es eigentlich gewesen: Martin R. P. McGuire, reviewing Albert Ehrhard, Die Kirche der Martyrer, Ihre Aufgaben und ihre Leistungen (Munich, 1932), CHR, 20 (1934), 286–88, here 288. In 1953, a reviewer praises authors’ scrupulous attempt at “complete objectivity”: Paul J. Knapke, reviewing J. R. Palanque et al., The Church in the Christian Roman Empire, trans. Ernest C. Messenger (New York, 1953), CHR, 39 (1953), 306–08, here 306 (but faults lack of bibliography post-1935). 9. Leo F. Miller, “The Formula of Baptism in the Early Church,” CHR, 10 (1924– 25), 515–35. 10. Myles M. Bourke, reviewing Jean Dauvillier, Les Temps Apostoliques, I er siècle (Paris, 1970), CHR, 58 (1972), 473–75. 11. See Murphy’s review of Rimoldi, “L’Apostolo San Pietro,” CHR, 46 (1960), 46–48; concerning such claims, Murphy writes, “the documents are silent.” Also see Dominic V. ELIZABETH A. CLARK 31 “German” scholarship became more accepted. By 1970, discussions of Peter’s presence in Rome had shifted from “religious polemics” to historical investigation.12 In 1995, Joseph D. Alchermes offered an excellent historical treatment of the early papacy in “Petrine Politics: Pope Symmachus and the Rotunda of St. Andrew at Old St. Peter’s,” which appealed to the categories of power relations, urban planning, control of space, and patronage.13 Changes in Historiography In earlier decades, when philosophers of history tried to construe that discipline as a “science” conforming to “laws”14—and historians themselves emphasized politics, institutions, wars, and economics—the highly literary patristic corpus seemed to offer poor resources for the doing of “real history.”15 By the later twentieth century, however, new historiographical currents proved more hospitable to discussions of religion. For instance, approaches informed by the Annales School (e.g., as a reviewer in 1989 expressed it, exploring the history of peoples and areas of life “traditionally hidden from public view”16) were appropriated by scholars of early ChrisMonti, reviewing Kurt Aland, A History of Christianity, vol. 1, From the Beginnings to the Threshold of the Reformation, trans. James L. Schaaf (Philadelphia, 1985), CHR, 74 (1988), 91–92. Monti regrets that the day of skewing history to suit confessional tastes is not yet over. 12. M. Joseph Costelloe, reviewing Daniel William O’Connor, Peter in Rome: The Literary, Liturgical, and Archeological Evidence (New York, 1969), CHR, 56 (1970), 216–18, here 218. 13. Joseph D. Alchermes, “Petrine Politics: Pope Symmachus and the Rotunda of St. Andrew at Old St. Peter’s,” CHR, 81 (1995), 1–40. 14. For an overview of the development of historiography in the early and mid-twentieth century, see Elizabeth A. Clark, History, Theory, Text: Historians and the Linguistic Turn (Cambridge, MA, 2004), chaps. 1 and 2. 15. Eusebius’s Church History was deemed biased, to be used only warily; e.g., Herbert Musurillo’s critique of Lloyd G. Patterson’s God and History in Early Christian Thought (New York, 1967), CHR, 56 (1970), 327–28. As for Eusebius’s notion of early Christianity’s triumphal progress, Wolfram Kinzig advises readers to give it up: Kinzig, Novitas Christiana: Die Idee des Fortschritts in der Alten Kirche bis Eusebius (Göttingen, 1994), reviewed by Robert S. Eno, CHR, 81 (1995), 629–30. H. A. Drake, reviewing Patricia Cox, Biography in Late Antiquity: A Quest for the Holy Man (Berkeley, 1983), CHR, 71 (1985), 581–82, found that Eusebius’s scholarly goals do not “correspond neatly with our own.” Yet Eusebius as an intellectual and theologian is receiving more attention recently: see essays in Eusebius of Caesarea: Tradition and Innovation, ed. Aaron Johnson and Jeremy Schott (Washington, DC, 2013). 16. Kenneth Snipes, reviewing Philippe Ariès et al., A History of Private Life, vol. 1, From Pagan Rome to Byzantium, trans. Arnold Goldhammer (Cambridge, MA, 1987), CHR, 75 (1989), 469–70. 32 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY tianity and appeared in the pages of the CHR.17 Even the history of the liturgy could be mined to illustrate the “history of the ‘everyday.’”18 And with the linguistic and cultural “turns” in historiography, previously ignored patristic texts suddenly became precious sources. “Representation” gradually found its champions. In 2001, John Contreni, a CHR reviewer of an essay collection on “the uses of the past,” claimed: The old saw that every generation writes its own version of history has been recast. The past is “invented,” memory is “constructed,” even “socially constructed,” and the past is “used” in a variety of ways. Viewed from these perspectives, history writing, formerly an arid topic dominated by Quellenkritik, now emerges as an exciting field with virtually limitless possibilities. . . . Modern historians need to be mindful that [as one author suggests] all pasts existed in the present of those who set about to fashion representations of the past.19 1. Changes in the Study of Early Christian History Since the CHR’s inception, the study of early Christian history in North America has shifted from a theologically oriented “patristics” to a socially and historically oriented “late-ancient Christianity.” In 1991, historian Timothy Barnes wrote pointedly that the authors of books he was reviewing “unwittingly demonstrate how difficult it is for theologically committed scholars to investigate such a controverted subject as Donatism with an impartiality which would satisfy those who do not accept their theological presuppositions.”20 (To be sure, early Christian theology continues as a strong field that produces many excellent publications. Because this essay concerns history, however, it will touch only lightly on theology per se.) Topics of investigation have also changed. To name some of the most prominent: ethnicity, identity construction, memory, emotion, travel, avenues of communication, “the body,” women, gender, sexuality, asceticism, power, performance, and spectacle. As is evident, thematic 17. An example: Timothy E. Gregory, Vox Populi: Popular Opinion and Violence in the Religious Controversies of the Fifth Century A.D. (Columbus, OH, 1979), reviewed by James J. O’Donnell, CHR, 68 (1982), 94–95. 18. John E. Baldovin, reviewing Robert F. Taft, A History of the Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom, vol. 6, The Communion, Thanksgiving, and Concluding Rites (Rome, 2008), CHR, 96 (2010), 91–92. 19. John J. Contreni, reviewing The Uses of the Past in the Early Middle Ages, ed. Yitzhak Hen and Matthew Innes (New York, 2000), CHR, 87 (2001), 719–20, here 719. 20. Timothy Barnes, reviewing Bernhard Kriegbaum, Kirche der Traditoren oder Kirche der Martyrer? Die Vorgeschichte des Donatismus (Innsbruck and Vienna, 1986), and J.-L. Maier, Le Dossier de Donatisme, 2 vols. (Berlin, 1987, 1989), CHR, 77 (1991), 95–96, here 96. ELIZABETH A. CLARK 33 approaches dominate,21 and material culture is increasingly stressed.22 Forms of Eastern Christianity in late antiquity have also received more attention. Some of these topics, and the CHR’s coverage of books pertaining to them, will be highlighted below. A second shift concerns the disciplinary homes of scholars of early Christianity. A century ago, many were clergy or members of religious orders whose personal piety often blended with their scholarly endeavors. A younger generation, however, differently trained and teaching in a variety of institutions and departments, brought other interests and commitments to their academic pursuits. Most importantly, classicists and ancient historians, discovering life beyond the second century,23 have assumed a major role in defining the field of “late antiquity.” The massive patristic corpus provided them with new sources for study. “Perhaps the single greatest change,” historian Averil Cameron writes, “has been the colonisation of early Christianity by classicists and others from outside the tradition of theology or patristics.”24 Whereas c. 1940 “late antiquity as a field was not on the map, in recent decades (so James O’Donnell claims) a “revolution” has taken place, linked especially with scholars inhabiting history departments: O’Donnell names Peter Brown and Robert Markus.25 2. Decline, Continuity, and Transformation in the Roman Empire Before late antiquity emerged as a field, however, scholars needed either to renounce or at least nuance the view that the Roman Empire experienced a deep decline from the third or fourth century onward. (The French language itself had conspired to degrade the era as the Bas- 21. Averil Cameron, “The ‘Long’ Late Antiquity: A Late Twentieth-Century Model,” in Classics in Progress: Essays on Ancient Greece and Rome, ed. T. P. Wiseman (Oxford, 2002), pp. 165–91, here pp. 176–77. 22. Ibid., pp. 172–73, 176, 180, 185–89; the question of periodization regarding Byzantium (190–91). For an example, see AnneMarie Luijendijk, Greetings in the Lord: Early Christians and the Oxyrhynchus Papyri (Cambridge, MA, 2008), reviewed by Larry W. Hurtado, CHR, 96 (2010), 89–91. 23. The syllabus for the “Oxford Greats” traditionally ended with the reign of Hadrian (Wiseman, Preface, in Classics in Progress, pp. xiii–xiv); or Trajan (Garth Fowden, “Comments: SO Debate: The World of Late Antiquity Revisited,” Symbolae Osloenses, 72 [1997], 43). “Modern history” picked up with Diocletian. 24. Cameron, “‘Long’ Late Antiquity,” pp. 179, 181, quotation p. 180. 25. James J. O’Donnell, reviewing Robert A. Markus, The End of Ancient Christianity (New York, 1990), CHR, 77 (1991), 494–95. 34 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY Empire.)26 The new emphasis on “continuity” from early to late empire was, unsurprisingly, heralded by some and denounced by others.27 The turn away from “decline” was assisted by the work of archaeologists and art historians. Archaeological remains of Roman North Africa, for example, stood against the then-common thesis of a steady decline of Roman civilization: civic life continued after the third century with surprising robustness.28 Michael White’s Building God’s House in the Roman World explored how Christians (and other groups) adapted—and thus transformed—older architectural structures into their places of worship.29 Art historians, rejecting the purely stylistic analysis of earlier generations, explored the historical, social, and economic factors associated with lateancient developments and the innovative ends to which artists adapted and transformed traditional materials.30 For example, Richard Krautheimer in Three Christian Capitals (1983) explored the historical and social reasons for the siting of churches in late-ancient cities (in Rome, on the periphery, so as to spare pagan sentiment).31 As a student of late-ancient philosophy, history, literature, and religion, Henri-Irénée Marrou is often credited as the first major author to renounce decline. In his Retractatio of 1949, Marrou took back his earlier (1938) view that late antiquity was by definition a period of decadence and 26. Emphasized by Henri-Irénée Marrou, “Retractatio,” in Saint Augustin et la fin de la culture antique, 4th ed. (Paris, 1958 [1938]), pp. 621–702, here p. 664. 27. Decrying: Wolf Liebeschuetz, “Late Antiquity, The Rejection of ‘Decline,’ and Multiculturalism,” in Accademia Romanistica Costantiniani: Atti il convegno internazionale: Spello, Isola Polvese sul Trasimeno, Montefalco (18–20 Settembre 1975) (Perugia, 1976), pp. 639–52, here pp. 641, 642, 643. Heralded: Robert Markus, “Between Marrou and Brown: Transformations of Late Antique Christianity,” in Transformations of Late Antiquity: Essays for Peter Brown, ed. Philip Rousseau and Manolis Papoutsakis (Farnham, UK, and Burlington, VT, 2009), pp. 1–13, here p. 11, citing other scholars. 28. Claude Lepelley, Les Cités de l’Afrique romaine au Bas-Empire, 2 vols. (Paris, 1979, 1981), reviewed by Robert B. Eno, CHR, 70 (1984), 108–09. 29. Michael White, Building God’s House in the Roman World: Architectural Adaptation among Pagans, Jews, and Christians (Baltimore, 1990), reviewed by Giovanni Montanari, CHR, 81 (1995), 627–29. On spoliation, see Jaś Elsner, “Late Antique Art: The Problem of the Concept and the Cumulative Aesthetic,” in Approaching Late Antiquity: The Transformation from Early to Late Empire, ed. Simon Swain and Mark Edwards (Oxford, 2004), pp. 271– 309, here p. 293. 30. Elsner, “Late Antique Art,” pp. 275–77, 302, 307; Liz James, reviewing (and critiquing) Hans Beltung, Likeness and Presence: A History of Images before the Era of Art, trans. Edmund Jephcott (Chicago, 1994), CHR, 82 (1996), 481–82. 31. Richard Krautheimer, Three Christian Capitals: Topography and Politics (Berkeley, 1983), reviewed by W. Eugene Kleinbauer, CHR, 71 (1985), 584–87. ELIZABETH A. CLARK 35 degeneration: Augustine’s era, he now claimed, was not one of “senile sclerosis.”32 Christianity did not violently break with classical civilization, as ancient forms were conserved and repurposed.33 Augustine’s world, Marrou concluded, was not dying, but was un organisme en plein essor.34 Moreover, Marrou recast in a religious vein what German scholars called Spätantike: “the age of the Theopolis.”35 Opposition to the narrative of decline soon found an echo in the CHR. In 1952, reviewer Martin McGuire chastised an author for titling chapters of his book on the late Roman Empire “From Gold to Iron” and “Decay and Chaos.”36 Later, reviewing an essay collection on Edward Gibbon’s Decline and Fall (1966), McGuire noted the radical revisions in historical knowledge and method since Gibbon’s time, including a deeper understanding of economic and social factors: not “decline and fall,” but “a transformation of the Roman world.”37 Decades later, James O’Donnell praised Kevin Uhalde’s Expectations of Justice in the Age of Augustine (2007) for rejecting “self-dramatizing narratives of triumph, decline, and tragedy.”38 “Fall,” to be sure, has not been completely abandoned: recently, controversy again erupted over the alleged downfall of Rome and “barbarians’” relation to it.39 32. Marrou, “Retractatio,” pp. 663, 670. 33. Ibid., p. 690: a Christian church is installed in a basilica; Christ is represented as an orator; the sermon recoups the heritage of the diatribe. 34. Ibid., p. 695. After Augustine’s era, there was (Marrou conceded) “impoverishment.” 35. So noted by Mark Vessey, “Theory, or the Dream of the Book (Mallarmé to Blanchot),” in The Early Christian Book, ed. William E. Klingshirn and Linda Safran (Washington, DC, 2007), 241–73, here 247, citing Henri Marrou, “Retractatio,” Saint Augustin et la fin de la culture antique, 2nd ed. (Paris, 1949), p. 699. 36. Martin R. P. McGuire, reviewing David Magie, Roman Rule in Asia Minor to the End of the Third Century after Christ, 2 vols. (Princeton, 1950), CHR, 38 (1952), 342–43, here 343. 37. Martin R. P. McGuire, reviewing The Transformation of the Roman World: Gibbon’s Problem after Two Centuries, ed. Lynn White Jr. (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1966), CHR, 55 (1969), 262–63. Similarly, Martin R. P. McGuire, reviewing Joseph Vogt, The Decline of Rome, trans. Janet Sondheimer (New York, 1968; German original, 1965), CHR, 58 (1972), 262; as McGuire aptly notes, the original German subtitle (Metamorphosen der antiken Kultur) better expresses the book’s theme. 38. James J. O’Donnell, reviewing Kevin Uhalde, Expectations of Justice in the Age of Augustine (Philadelphia, 2007), CHR, 95 (2009), 106–07. 39. Chris Wickham uses the language of “breakup” of the Empire: “each piece took the surviving elements of Roman social, economic, and political structures and developed them in its own way.” Framing the Early Middle Ages: Europe and the Mediterranean, 400–800 (Oxford, 2005), 10. Also see Walter Goffart, Rome’s Fall and After (Ronceverte, WV, 1989), reviewed by Karl F. Morrison, CHR, 76 (1990), 820–21, and Barbarian Tides: The Migration 36 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY The scholar who brought together the fields of late antiquity and religion for many English-language readers was Peter Brown. Summing up changes in the field, Averil Cameron noted the importance of Brown’s 1971 book The World of Late Antiquity:40 This was not a classical world in decline, or a Roman empire that “fell” in AD 476 when the last emperor in the West was deposed. Rather, it was an exciting time of change, a period of variety and creativity, which is reflected in its vigorous visual arts and cultural production. Nor was it the straightforwardly Christian empire assumed by theologians or patristic scholars, for in this model, due weight was also given to the many forms of late polytheism, including Neoplatonism, as well as to the varied religious experience of the eastern borders of the Roman empire.41 Brown’s work, Cameron continued, provoked a shift away from institutional, administrative, and economic history and toward cultural history. Religion was now a respectable subject for an ancient historian: after all, was not religion “the carrier of culture”?42 Elizabeth Kennan, reviewing Brown’s World of Late Antiquity for the CHR, praised the book for giving ample (and unembarrassed) attention to matters of faith and religion’s impact on events in the late-ancient world. As Kennan put it, Brown dealt “sharply, and justly so, with recent attempts to reduce Mediterranean history to a dust bowl of economic and ethnic animosities.”43 3. External and Internal Influences on Historiographical Shifts Reviewers often noted world events that influenced historiographical approaches. World War I, for example, provided a lens through which to examine the “fall” of the Roman Empire44 and to reconsider disparaging Age and the Later Roman Empire (Philadelphia, 2006), reviewed by Brian Croke, CHR, 94 (2008), 131–32. Peter Heather, The Fall of the Roman Empire: A New History of Rome and the Barbarians (New York, 2006), and Bryan Ward-Perkins, The Fall of Rome: And the End of Civilization (Oxford and New York, 2005), both claim barbarian invasions as the main cause of Rome’s downfall. 40. Cameron, “‘Long’ Late Antiquity,” pp. 165–66; Peter Brown, The World of Late Antiquity: AD 150–750 (New York, 1971). 41. Cameron, “‘Long’ Late Antiquity,” p. 167. 42. Ibid., p. 168, 171, 183. 43. Elizabeth Kennan, reviewing Brown, World of Late Antiquity, CHR, 59 (1973), 518–19, here 518. 44. Tasker H. Bliss, reviewing J. B. Bury, History of the Later Roman Empire, 2 vols. (London, 1923), CHR, 9 (1924), 546–51. Bliss borrows terms from the natural sciences (e.g., grafting, mineral formation) to explain “barbarians” vis-à-vis Rome. ELIZABETH A. CLARK 37 attitudes concerning monastic ideals.45 Foreign groups in second-century Rome conjured up thoughts of immigrants to America.46 Roman colonization in North Africa spurred discussion of modern colonialism.47 Urbanization in Chicago struck a chord with comparable movements in ancient Antioch.48 The list goes on: Israel and Palestine in relation to early Judaism and Christianity;49 American deterrence of communism and early Christian attitudes toward war;50 requests for adult baptism in post-Soviet Russia and the early Christian catechumenate.51 For a Catholic journal, however, events within the Church carried even more importance. Somewhat surprisingly, given the roadblock that Pius X’s antimodernist decrees of 1907 and 1910 posed for Catholic scholarship on early Christianity and for the understanding of “historical development,” there is relatively little reference to those events and the persons involved in CHR reviews.52 In 1922, for example, Floyd Keeler, reviewing a work on the Apocalypse, attributes the lack of Bible study 45. Floyd Keeler, reviewing John B. O’Connor, Monasticism and Civilization (New York, 1921), CHR, 8 (1922), 266–68; O’Connor emphasizes monasticism’s promotion of social equality and democracy. World War II’s depredations (lack of paper and funds, German censors) form the context under which editors founded the Sources Chrétiennes series (in addition, suspicions of Thomists who suspected the series was an attack on scholastic theology): see Etienne Fouilloux, La collection “Sources chrétiennes”: Editer les Pères de l’Eglise au XX e siècle (Paris, 1995), reviewed by Robert B. Eno, CHR, 83 (1997), 163–64. 46. Thomas Bokenkotter, reviewing Daniel Frankforter, A History of the Christian Movement: The Development of Christian Institutions (Chicago, 1978), CHR, 65 (1979), 304– 05, here 305. 47. Joseph P. Christopher, reviewing W. H. C. Frend, The Donatist Church: A Movement of Protest in Roman North Africa (Oxford, 1952), CHR, 39 (1953), 308–09. This review scarcely does justice to Frend’s important work and controversial theses. 48. Thomas A. Brady, reviewing Glanville Downey, Ancient Antioch (Princeton, 1963), CHR, 49 (1963), 426–27. 49. Myles M. Bourke, reviewing W. D. Davies, The Gospel and the Land: Early Christianity and Jewish Territorial Doctrine (Berkeley, 1974), CHR, 64 (1978), 232–33. 50. Harry C. Koenig, reviewing Roland H. Bainton, Christian Attitudes toward War and Peace: A Historical Survey and Critical Re-evaluation (New York, 1960), CHR, 50 (1964), 73–74. 51. Paul L. Gavrilyuk, Histoire du catéchuménat dans l’église ancienne, trans. Françoise Lhoest et al. (Paris, 2007), reviewed by Paul Bradshaw, CHR, 94 (2008), 537–38. 52. A 1908 book by Pierre Batiffol is reissued (Giovanni A. Montanari, review of Pierre Batiffol, L’Eglise naissante et le Catholicisme [Paris, 1971 (1908)], CHR, 60 [ 1974], 453–54); an attempt in 1938 to link the new appreciation for mysticism with Pius X’s denunciation of positivism, rationalism, and materialism (Ross J. S. Hoffman, “Catholicism and Historismus,” CHR, 24 [1939], 401–12); and Johannes Quasten’s review of an admittedly quirky book by Alfred Loisy (Quasten, reviewing Loisy, The Birth of the Christian Religion, trans. L. P. Jacks [London and New York, 1948; French original, 1933], CHR, 37 [1951], 38–39). 38 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY among English-speaking Catholics “partly to a reaction against the bibliolatry of the Protestantism with which they are surrounded” and to “the lack of an adequate expository literature”—with no allusion to why there might be such a lack.53 The peculiarly American Catholic affiliation with Ireland and devotion to Patrick accounted for a disproportionate number of articles and reviews in the CHR, especially around the years marking (alleged) anniversaries of his mission to Ireland and his death (1932 and 1962, respectively). In 2004, reviewer Thomas O’Loughlin wrote that Patrick had provided for “many whose ethnic origins are Irish a heady mix of national myth, religious identity, cultural celebration, and romantic nostalgia.” The gulf between the miniscule contemporary evidence regarding Patrick and the burgeoning cult surrounding him, O’Laughlin added, is “bridged by the mythopoetic processes of repeated story among those who held that memory as a central feature of their identity and annual liturgy.”54 New outlooks encouraged by the Second Vatican Council were often reflected in the CHR.55 In 1968, for example, a reviewer remarks that a chapter of The Apostolic Church in the New Testament had been mimeographed and circulated to many bishops at Vatican II. He adds, “It was the first introduction many of these bishops had to the nature of modern studies, and by many accounts the effect was salutary.”56 Indeed, echoes of Vatican II ran across reviews of books on early Christianity from the early 1960s onward: a retour aux sources;57 rapprochement with the Eastern Churches;58 expanded visions of priestly and clerical duties, including open 53. Floyd Keeler, reviewing E. Sylvester Berry, The Apocalypse of St. John (Columbus, OH, 1921), CHR, 7 (1922), 522–24. Keeler notes that the author has given his “unfeigned submission ‘to the unerring judgment of the Church’” (p. 523). 54. Thomas O’Loughlin, reviewing Philip Freeman, St. Patrick of Ireland (New York, 2004), CHR, 90 (2004), 741–42, praising Freeman’s attempt to get at the “real” Patrick. 55. Thomas F. X. Noble reminds readers that discussions of the history and claims of the papacy were also spurred by Vatican I’s declaration of papal infallibility, which “shattered Catholic consensus about the historical role of the papacy.” “Morbidity and Vitality in the History of the Early Medieval Papacy,” CHR, 81 (1995), 505–40, here 506. 56. John Quinlan, reviewing D. M. Stanley, The Apostolic Church in the New Testament (Westminster, MD, 1965), CHR, 53 (1968), 671–72. Quinlan comments that the council underscored the need for “a just scrutiny of Christian beginnings” (p. 672). 57. The reviewer slyly suggests that this approach may seem novel in Italy: Bede Lackner, reviewing Fonti e Studi di Storia della Chiesa: Evo Antico, 2 vols., ed. Paolo Brezzi (Milan, 1962), CHR, 49 (1963), 395–96. 58. Martin R. P. McGuire, reviewing Christopher Dawson, The Formation of Christendom (New York, 1967), CHR, 56 (1970), 219–20. ELIZABETH A. CLARK 39 discussion of clerical celibacy;59 the role of the laity in the early and the contemporary Church;60 and the Church and the Jews.61 Yet, reviewers warn, readers should not imagine that charitable attitudes toward the “separated brethren” can easily be found in Church Fathers such as Augustine, for whom John XXIII’s call for aggiornamento might not have been warmly received,62 nor can Cyprian be made into a democrat.63 Catholics should not read history backward from Vatican II and De Ecclesia “towards facts which one might wistfully hope existed.”64 Other reviewers, by contrast, seem motivated against a book by their dislike of Vatican II’s changes. A salient example can be found in Daniel 59. Jean-Paul Audet, Structures of Christian Priesthood, trans. Rosemary Sheed (New York, 1967), reviewed by Francis X. Murphy, CHR, 56 (1970), 220–22; Octavian Bârlea, Die Weihe der Bischöfe, Presbyter und Diakone in vornicänischer Zeit, reviewed by W. A. Jurgens (Munich, 1969), CHR, 58 (1973), 580–81. 60. Alexandre Faivre, The Emergence of the Laity in the Early Church, trans. David Smith (New York and Mahwah, NJ, 1990; French original, 1984), reviewed by Patrick Granfield, CHR, 78 (1992), 433–34; Alexandre Faivre, Ordonner la fraternité: Pouvoir d’innover et retour à l’ordre dans l’Eglise ancienne (Paris, 1992), reviewed by David N. Power, CHR, 84 (1998), 313–14. In 1965, a reviewer referred to the laity as those who “fill up the membership of God’s chosen congregation”: Herbert Musurillo, reviewing F. Van der Meer, Augustine the Bishop: The Life and Work of a Father of the Church, trans. Brian Battershaw and G. R. Lamb (New York, 1962; Dutch original, 1947), CHR, 50 (1965), 537–39. 61. Charles Burns, “The Popes and the Jews: From Gelasius I to Julius III (492–1555),” CHR, 83 (1997), 75–85. Nostra Aetate is cited for its impetus to reconsider the status of Judaism from antiquity onward: Walter P. Loewe, reviewing Jaroslav Pelikan, Jesus through the Centuries: His Place in the History of Culture (New Haven, 1985), CHR, 75 (1989), 110–11, here 111. Also see Jean Daniélou, The Theology of Jewish Christianity, trans. John A. Baker (London and Chicago, 1964), reviewed by Frederick C. Grant, CHR, 51 (1966), 561–62 (in turn critiqued by Marcel Simon, Le Christianisme antique et son contexts religieux: Scripta Varia [Tübingen, 1981], and reviewed by Gregory T. Armstrong, CHR, 70 [1984], 94–96); Rosemary Radford Ruether, Faith and Fratricide: The Theological Roots of Anti-Semitism (New York, 1974), reviewed by Margaret Schatkin, CHR, 63 (1977), 79–80. 62. Jeremy DeQ. Adams, reviewing Emilien Lamirande, La Situation ecclésiastique des Donatistes d’après saint Augustin: Contribution à l’histoire doctrinale de l’oecuménisme (Ottawa, 1972), CHR, 60 (1974), 462–63. Adams, reviewing Peter Brown’s Religion and Society in the Age of Saint Augustine (New York, 1972), CHR, 61 (1975), 627–28, cautions that Augustine would have been less favorable to aggiornamento. 63. W. A. Jurgens, reviewing James A. Mohler, The Origin and Evolution of the Priesthood: A Return to the Sources (Staten Island, NY, 1970), CHR, 57 (1971), 463–64. The author shows his hand (according to Jurgens) in proposing that “the Christian ministry may well move in the direction of a simplified, social-minded Word-centered service.” 64. J. William Rooney Jr., commenting on Giuseppe d’Ercole’s “Presbyteral Colleges in the Early Church,” in a review of Concilium, vol. 7, ed. Roger Aubert and Anton G. Weiler, and vol. 17, ed. Roger Aubert (Glen Rock, NJ, 1965, 1966), CHR, 53 (1968), 665– 67, here 667. 40 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY Callam’s review of David G. Hunter’s Marriage, Celibacy, and Heresy in Ancient Christianity: The Jovinianist Controversy (2009). Callam attacks Jovinian’s (and Hunter’s) favorable view of Christian marriage as not inferior to celibacy, other virtues being equal. Ritual purity, he comments, was a deep concern for the Catholic Church from its beginnings until the time of John XXIII, “when it unaccountably disappeared.” Hunter’s “academic straitjacket” obstructs his comprehension of “the superiority of consecrated virginity to marriage.”65 Events within and without the Church, it is clear, influenced the substance and tone of reviews of books on early Christianity. I turn now to some of the newer social and historical approaches to early Christian texts. New Approaches and Issues 1. Social Approaches and Models Social and economic questions came to the fore in historical scholarship during the second half of the twentieth century. Michael Rostovtzeff’s The Social and Economic History of the Roman Empire (2nd ed., 1957)66 and A. H. M. Jones’s The Later Roman Empire, 284–602: A Social, Economic and Administrative Survey (1964), for example, encouraged this development.67 Jones’s Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire (1971)68 was similarly an excellent reference tool despite its omission of bishops and other religious figures. This defect was remedied to some extent in volume 2 of The Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire and more fully in Prosopographie chrétienne du Bas-Empire, edited by Henri-Irénée Marrou and other French scholars.69 65. Daniel Callam, reviewing David G. Hunter, Marriage, Celibacy, and Heresy in Ancient Christianity: The Jovinianist Controversy (New York, 2009), CHR, 97 (2011), 113–14. 66. Martin R. P. McGuire, reviewing M. Rostovtzeff’s The Social and Economic History of the Roman Empire, 2nd ed. (New York, 1957; original, 1926), CHR, 44 (1958), 38–39, praising Rostovtzeff’s “unparalleled knowledge and control of all the sources” pertaining to the economic life of the Roman Empire—while cautioning readers that they will find nothing therein about religion, art, literature, or education, and that many will disagree with the book’s theses. 67. A. H. M. Jones, The Later Roman Empire, 284–602: A Social, Economic and Administrative Survey (Oxford and Norman, OK, 1964). 68. A. H. M. Jones et al., eds., The Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire I: A. D. 260–395 (Cambridge, UK, 1971). 69. J. R. Martindale, ed., The Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire II: A. D. 395– 527 (Cambridge, UK, 1980); Henri-Irénée Marrou et al., eds., Prosopographie chrétienne du Bas-Empire (Paris, 1982–). Volume 1, on North Africa from 303 to 533, edited by André ELIZABETH A. CLARK 41 Among scholars of the New Testament and earliest Christianity, the social world of early Christianity emerged as a subfield in the late 1960s. A few years later, a reviewer for the CHR protested that treatments of heresy and schism as largely “psychological, social, and political forces” had become “a new orthodoxy, a new dogmatism.” Such explanations, he wrote, imply that “what is really ‘real’ are social and economic forces, while religious ideas themselves are mere epiphenomena.”70 Heresies and heretics (now described as the “deviant other”) that were particularly apt to receive a “social” treatment included Donatism and Priscillianism; the latter provided the first occasion on which Christians executed other Christians for heresy.71 An early contributor to the field of the social history of early Christianity was the Australian scholar E. A. Judge. In a series of essays, Judge investigated the social identity, rank, and status of various early Christian groups. (CHR reviewer Bruce J. Malina, committed to stricter social-science models, faulted Judge for “impressionistic” and “idiosyncratic” use of the terms “rank,” “status,” and “class.”)72 Here, and in books by other scholars,73 the letters of the Apostle Paul were mined for social information. From the 1970s onward, scholars who overlooked social and economic factors were subject to critique.74 Yet what sort of social analysis worked best? The reviewer of Georg Schöllgen’s Ecclesia Sordida? (in which the author argued that early Christians in Carthage occupied the same varied social Mandouze; vol. 2, on Italy from 313 to 604, edited by Charles Pietri et al. (Rome, 1999). The Prosopography of the Byzantine Empire is being prepared online. For essays detailing the history of prosopographical research on late antiquity, see Averil Cameron, ed., Fifty Years of Prosopography: The Later Roman Empire, Byzantium and Beyond (Oxford, 2003). 70. Jeffrey B. Russell, reviewing Derek Baker, ed., Schism, Heresy and Religious Protest (New York, 1972), CHR, 61 (1975), 606–09, here 608–09. For similar objections, see Patrick Henry, “Why Is Contemporary Scholarship So Enamored of Ancient Heretics?” Studia Patristica, 17 (1982), 123–26. 71. For more on Frend’s Donatist Church, see below. On Priscillianism, see Henry Chadwick, Priscillian of Avila: The Occult and the Charismatic in the Early Church (Oxford, 1976), reviewed by James J. O’Donnell, CHR, 66 (1980), 474; Virginia Burrus, The Making of a Heretic: Gender, Authority and the Priscillianist Controversy (Berkeley, 1995), reviewed by Kenneth B. Steinhauser, CHR, 83 (1997), 752–53. 72. Bruce J. Malina, reviewing E. A. Judge, Social Distinctives of the Christians in the First Century: Pivotal Essays, ed. David M. Scholar (Peabody, MA, 2008), CHR, 95 (2009), 105–06. 73. In the United States, New Testament scholars Wayne Meeks and John Schuetz were early promoters of social approaches to the New Testament; in Germany, Gerd Theissen. There was much discussion whether the term “class” was appropriate for antiquity. 74. Michael M. Sage, reviewing Diana Bowder, The Age of Constantine and Julian (New York, 1978), CHR, 66 (1980), 470–71, faulting Bowder’s omission of Peter Brown’s work on the “holy man.” 42 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY and class spectrum as did the population in general) deemed Schöllgen’s classifications “wooden” to social historians of early Christianity who employ “more dynamic social science models of social interaction.”75 Scholars frequently appealed to sermons, letters, and hagiographies as sources for social history. The sermons and speeches of John Chrysostom and the Cappadocian Fathers, for example, yielded many details concerning the practices of early Byzantine Christians.76 For North Africa, François Dolbeau’s discovery of twenty-six previously unrecognized sermons of Augustine offered new treasures.77 Lisa Bailey’s study of the seventy-six sermons in the so-called Eusebius Gallicanus Sermon Collection provided a fresh window onto Christianity in fifth-century Gaul. Through these simple sermons, Bailey argued, preachers created a sense of unity with (rather than superiority to) their congregations.78 Letters also provided rich data for social history, as shown in the interest accorded Johannes Divjak’s discovery in the 1970s of previously unidentified letters of Augustine.79 Well known for centuries, Jerome’s letters (despite their frequent hyperbole) offered precious data pertaining to the Christianization of important families of the later Roman Empire.80 The Church Fathers’ letters to wealthy women who became ascetics (on whom see more below) were especially rich sources for this topic. Hagiographies, for their part, often in passing, yielded valuable informa- 75. Dennis E. Groh, reviewing Georg Schöllgen, Ecclesia Sordida? Zur Frage der sozialen Schichtung frühchristlicher Gemeinden am Beispiel Karthagos zur Zeit Tertullians (Münster Westfalen, 1985), CHR, 76 (1990), 99–100. 76. Essays (not named) by Jaclyn Maxwell and Vasiliki Limberis in Byzantine Christianity, ed. Derek Krueger (Minneapolis, 2006), reviewed by Timothy S. Miller, CHR, 93 (2007), 617–18. 77. François Dolbeau, Vingt-six sermons au peuple d’Afrique (Paris, 1996); Newly Discovered Sermons, trans. Edmund Hill, The Works of Saint Augustine, Part III, Vol. 11 (Hyde Park, NY, 1997). 78. Lisa Kaaren Bailey, Christianity’s Quiet Success: The Eusebius Gallicanus Sermon Collection and the Power of the Church in Late Antique Gaul (Notre Dame, 2010), reviewed by David Lambert, CHR, 98 (2012), 778–79. The sermons are edited in Corpus Christianorum Series Latina 101–101B. 79. Sancti Aureli Augustini opera: Epistolae ex duobus codicibus nuper in lucem prolatae, ed. Johannes Divjak, [Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum 88], (Vienna, 1981). 80. Andrew Cain, The Letters of Jerome: Asceticism, Biblical Exegesis, and the Construction of Christian Authority in Late Antiquity (Oxford, 2009), reviewed by Robert Harward, CHR, 96 (2010), 762–63; Cain, Jerome’s Epitaph on Paula: A Commentary on the Epitaphium Sanctae Paulae (New York, 2013), reviewed by Bronwen Neil, CHR, 100 (2014), 106–07; Michele Renee Salzman, The Making of a Christian Aristocracy: Social and Religious Change in the Western Roman Empire (Cambridge, MA, 2002), reviewed by T. D. Barnes, CHR, 88 (2002), 748–49. ELIZABETH A. CLARK 43 tion on regional histories and the history of medicine,81 material culture, and social attitudes.82 Among the topics of social history most appealing to recent scholars of early Christianity have been wealth and poverty, patronage and philanthropy.83 An early venture in this direction was L. William Countryman’s The Rich Christian in the Church of the Early Empire (1980). Studying various early Christian texts—in particular, Clement of Alexandria’s treatise Who Is the Rich Man Who Is Being Saved—Countryman explored the problems that wealth occasioned for early Christian leaders: they needed it for the upkeep of their churches with their many charitable enterprises, while they simultaneously intoned Gospel proclamations on the dangers of wealth and the near-impossibility of salvation for the rich.84 On another front, Paul Corbey Finney argued an economic explanation for the lack of art among the earliest Christians, viz., they lacked the requisite funds and land for picture production.85 Later, with lavish patronage from bishops and others, Christian art—such as at Ravenna—flourished.86 Women patrons (especially rich widows and female adolescents committed to perpetual virginity: Olympias, Melania the Elder, Melania the Younger, Paula, Demetrias, et al.) who built and endowed churches and monasteries received new attention.87 81. Reginald Weijenborg, reviewing Sainte Thècle, Saints Côme et Damien, Saints Cyr et Jean (Extraits), Saint Georges, trans. and annotated by A.-J. Festugière (Paris, 1971), CHR, 60 (1974), 457. On medicine: Andrew T. Crislip, From Monastery to Hospital: Christian Monasticism and the Transformation of Health Care in Late Antiquity (Ann Arbor, MI, 2005); Crislip, Thorns in the Flesh: Illness and Sanctity in Late Ancient Christianity (Philadelphia, 2012). 82. Robin Chapman Stacey, reviewing Studies in Irish Hagiography: Saints and Scholars, ed. John Carey et al. (Dublin, 2001), CHR, 88 (2002), 752–55. 83. On patronage, e.g., John Matthews, Western Aristocracies and Imperial Court, A.D. 364–425 (New York, 1975), reviewed by Robert B. Eno, CHR, 64 (1978), 124–25; Cain, Letters of Jerome, reviewed by Harward, CHR, 96 (2010), 762–63. 84. L. William Countryman, The Rich Christian in the Church of the Early Empire: Contradictions and Accommodations (Lewiston, NY, 1980). Justo L. González, Faith and Wealth: A History of Early Christian Ideas on the Origin, Significance, and Use of Money (San Francisco, 1990), reviewed by Boniface Ramsey, CHR, 78 (1992), 97–98, stresses the Fathers’ ambiguity on the topic. 85. Paul Corby Finney, The Invisible God: The Earliest Christians on Art (New York, 1994), reviewed by Charles M. Odahl, CHR, 82 (1996), 674–75. 86. On Ravenna: Gillian Mackie, reviewing Deborah Mauskopf Deliyannis, Ravenna in Late Antiquity (New York, 2010), CHR, 97 (2011), 564–65. 87. Nicholas Brooks, Anglo-Saxon Myths: State and Church, 400–1066 (Rio Grande, OH, 2000), reviewed by Janet L. Nelson, CHR, 88 (2002), 567–68. Also see Cain, Jerome’s Epitaph on Paula; Elizabeth A. Clark, The Life of Melania the Younger: Introduction, Translation and Commentary (New York, 1984), and “The Life of Olympias,” translated in Jerome, Chrysostom, and Friends: Essays and Translations (New York, 1979). 44 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY In late antiquity, the Church greatly expanded its charity operations.88 In a Constantinian decree of 334, imperial judges were enjoined to carry out biblical injunctions to assist the disadvantaged—and to seek help from bishops, whom Constantine a year earlier had authorized to adjudicate complaints from such “wretched persons.” As Roman government broke down in the fifth and sixth centuries, bishops assumed even greater roles as protectors.89 Among the “wretched persons” were orphans, concerning which Timothy Miller’s The Orphans of Byzantium (2003) was praised by a CHR reviewer for its contribution to Byzantine social and family history.90 Three recent works on wealth and poverty in early Christianity deserve mention. Helen Rhee in Loving the Poor, Saving the Rich (2013), reviewed in the CHR by Wayne Meeks, treats the second and third centuries, when converts included some people of means. Bishops are here at the fore, as Rhee explores how the growing centralization of episcopal power correlated with the Church’s emergence as an economic institution.91 Peter Brown’s most recent book, Through the Eye of a Needle (2012), reviewed in the CHR by Michael Kulikowski, considers conversion to Christianity in late antiquity in relation to churchmen’s (and rich Christians’) ambivalence regarding wealth. Pelagius (and especially the anonymous Pelagian treatise De divitiis) linked human free will with a more radical divestment than many Christians were willing to countenance. Such theological justifications for renunciation threatened social assumptions of the era.92 Last, Leslie Dossey in Peasant and Empire in Christian North Africa (2010), reviewed in the CHR by Alexander Evers, focuses on regional economic development. She claims that peasants, earlier a lower-status group, acquired more money and power through their emergence as consumers 88. Demetrios J. Constantelos, Byzantine Philanthropy and Social Welfare (New Brunswick, NJ, 1968), reviewed by Glanville Downey, CHR, 55 (1970), 699–700. Works on Basil of Caesarea also stress this feature. 89. On Si contra pupillos of 334: Cecilia Natalini, Per la storia del foro privilegiato dei deboli nell’ esperienza giuridica altomedioevale dal tardo antico a Carlo Magno (Bologna, 2008), reviewed by James A. Brundage, CHR, 96 (2010), 509–10; Brundage praises the “admirably lucid” treatment of “the tangled chain of events.” 90. Timothy S. Miller, The Orphans of Byzantium: Child Welfare in the Christian Empire (Washington, DC, 2003), reviewed by Demetrios J. Constantelos, CHR, 89 (2003), 746–47. 91. Helen Rhee, Loving the Poor, Saving the Rich: Wealth, Poverty, and Early Christian Formation (Grand Rapids, MI, 2013), reviewed by Wayne A. Meeks, CHR, 99 (2013), 534–35. 92. Peter Brown, Through the Eye of a Needle: Wealth, the Fall of Rome, and the Making of Christianity in the West (Princeton, 2012), reviewed by Michael Kulikowski, CHR, 100 (2014), 104–05. Kulikowski asks how far north/northeast the conflict made an impact. ELIZABETH A. CLARK 45 within the African economy from the third century onward as the traditional links between center and periphery loosened. Dossey argues that the proliferation of bishoprics in late antiquity shows the desire of rural populations for self-government.93 Are early Christian social ethics relevant for the present? Reviewer Graham Gould claims that essays in Reading Patristic Texts on Social Ethics (2011) dim that hope. Whether one looks to the Fathers’ more radical teaching on property and renunciation or to their social conservatism on issues such as slavery, the conclusion, in Gould’s view, is negative. Gould offers a sobering reminder: The real question at issue thus seems to be not whether patristic texts can somehow be made relevant to today (as the editors and contributors suppose) but whether or not modern Catholic social thought can come to terms with the historical diversity of the Christian tradition.94 2. Social-Scientific Models Some scholars looked beyond a “lighter” social history to appropriate “harder” models from the social sciences. A simple technique such as simply “counting” could be illuminating. Assessing the number of churches and their dimensions in various areas, for example, yielded some sense of Christianization’s progress. Yale historian Ramsay MacMullen, in The Second Church: Popular Christianity, A.D. 200–400 (2009), concluded from the small size of churches and the probable size of urban Christian populations that only about 5 percent of Christians regularly attended church on Sundays: the buildings could not have held them. Rather, MacMullen argued, Christians displayed their piety at cemeteries, tombs, and shrines with relics honoring martyrs and saints. The reviewer of MacMullen’s book for the CHR, Paul Bradshaw, disputed MacMullen’s theses: MacMullen had overlooked the prevalence of house-churches even into the fourth century, and before then evidence was lacking to support his sweeping claims.95 93. Leslie Dossey, Peasant and Empire in Christian North Africa (Berkeley, 2010), reviewed by Alexander Evers, CHR, 100 (2014), 107–08. 94. Graham Gould, reviewing Reading Patristic Texts on Social Ethics: Issues and Challenges for Twenty-First-Century Christian Social Thought, ed. Johan Leemans et al. (Washington, DC, 2011), CHR, 98 (2012), 83–84, here 84. 95. Ramsay MacMullen, The Second Church: Popular Christianity, A.D. 200–400 (Atlanta, 2009), reviewed by Paul E. Bradshaw, CHR, 97 (2011), 563–64. 46 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY James Jeffers, in his study of early Christian social order, also took a social-science approach to early Christian texts. Jeffers borrowed models from Max Weber and Brian Wilson to classify two groups in early Christianity at Rome: that of I Clement (“the social elite”) and the Shepherd of Hermas (“the majority”). The elite moved beyond sectarian status, he argues, “because they possessed the material and social resources for an optimistic view of their world coupled with active engagement.” The reviewer of Jeffers’s book for the CHR, Thomas Finn, questioned the strict application of these sociological models to ancient documents.96 The sociologist Rodney Stark entered early Christian studies with The Rise of Christianity (1996), which was reviewed in the CHR by Stephen Benko.97 Stark explored the means by which an insignificant sect became a major force in the Roman Empire. Using models derived from his previous work on modern sects (especially the Church of the Latter Day Saints), Stark argues that networks of families, friends, and co-workers were key to conversion. In the era of the persecutions, Christian martyrdom proved “successful” because it offered better rewards for sacrifice than did pagan cults. Indeed, “sacrifice and stigma were the dynamo behind the rise of Christianity,” Stark claims.98 Christians’ charity during disasters (e.g., plagues) helped to solidify their positive reputation. While pagan birth rates declined, the ranks of Christians swelled; Stark makes that argument based on their rejection of abortion and infanticide. Moreover, women’s (alleged) higher status in Christian communities may have contributed to the religion’s appeal. (Stark’s claims about women’s dominant role are now nuanced, if not rejected.) Finally, Stark argued, Christianity’s superior moral vision drew converts.99 Network theory also undergirded Adam Schor’s Theodoret’s People: Social Networks and Religious Conflict in Late Roman Syria (2011) and Elizabeth Clark’s The Origenist Controversy: The Cultural Construction of an Early Christian Debate (1992). Schor portrays the networks of bishops and civic leaders involved in Christological controversies at the councils of Ephesus (431) and Chalcedon (451). Shifting social networks explained why so many bishops (including Theodoret, according to Schor) violently 96. Reviewer Thomas M. Finn’s summary of James S. Jeffers, Conflict at Rome: Social Order and Hierarchy in Early Christianity (Minneapolis, 1991), CHR, 78 (1992), 267–68. 97. Rodney Stark, The Rise of Christianity: A Sociologist Reconsiders History (Princeton, 1996), reviewed by Stephen Benko, CHR, 83 (1997), 739–41. 98. Ibid., p. 167. Stark appeals to rational choice theory. 99. Ibid., reviewed (and summarized) by Benko, CHR, 83 (1997), 739–41. ELIZABETH A. CLARK 47 opposed each other when they shared a common faith.100 Clark argues that, given the extensive source material available concerning participants (especially Rufinus and Jerome, and the clergy, monks, and patrons of each) in late-ancient controversies over the teachings of Origen, network theory offered a means to understand the rancorous debate over such abstruse subjects as the origin of the soul.101 Networks of family and kinship also played an important role in the lives and activities of the so-called Cappadocian Fathers (Basil of Caesarea, Gregory Nazianzen, and Gregory of Nyssa), as evidenced in books by Philip Rousseau and Raymond Van Dam. Reviewer Paul Fedwick praises Van Dam for retrieving from “the doldrums of monastic pseudo-Christian otherworldly abstraction” information about household life and friendship among the Cappadocian Fathers and their families.102 3. Women in Early Christian History Another important scholarly development, from the 1970s onward, was the uncovering of material about women in later antiquity. Gone are the days (1923) when a reviewer of a book on Jerome could write: “one might say a priori that a woman would be unsuitable and incompetent to handle such a theme.”103 Kenneth Holum’s Theodosian Empresses (1982) details how three generations of imperial women at Constantinople became virtual co-rulers with their husbands and cultivated holy men.104 Women martyrs and ascetics became special foci of scholarship, as discussed below. The CHR, however, covered studies of early Christian 100. Donald Fairbairn, reviewing Adam M. Schor’s Theodoret’s People: Social Networks and Religious Conflict in Late Roman Syria (Berkeley, 2011), CHR, 98 (2012), 340–41. Schor posits that the Syrian (“Antiochene”) vision of Christ mirrored the interactive way in which Syrian bishops functioned, as contrasted with the top–down approach of Cyril of Alexandria, which was reflected in his view of Christ. 101. Elizabeth A. Clark, The Origenist Controversy: The Cultural Construction of an Early Christian Debate (Princeton, 1992). 102. Philip Rousseau, Basil of Caesarea (Berkeley, 1995), reviewed by Paulette V. Chadwick, CHR, 82 (1996), 497–98; Raymond Van Dam, Families and Friends in Late Roman Cappadocia (Philadelphia, 2003), reviewed by Paul J. Fedwick, CHR, 90 (2004), 303– 05. On relations of friendship: Caroline White, Christian Friendship in the Fourth Century (New York, 1992), reviewed by Gerald Bonner, CHR, 80 (1994), 97–101. 103. William P. H. Kitchin, reviewing Ferdinand Cavallera, Saint Jerome: Sa vie et son oeuvre (Paris, 1923), CHR, 9 (1923), 274–76. 104. Kenneth G. Holum, Theodosian Empresses: Women and Imperial Dominion in Late Antiquity (Berkeley, 1982), reviewed by Jay Bregman, CHR, 71 (1985), 591–92. 48 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY women only sporadically until the mid-1990s. An early exception was Sr. Mary Lawrence McKenna’s Women of the Church (1967).105 When “women in Christian history” became a popular college subject, anthologies of primary sources were gathered for easy use by students and others.106 Holy women of Byzantium, women in early Celtic Christianity,107 and narratives of female martyrs (especially “The Passion of Perpetua and Felicitas”) were popular texts.108 “Holy women,” counterparts to Peter Brown’s “holy man,”109 and harlots-turned-ascetics became subjects for literary and hagiographical analysis.110 Kate Cooper’s The Virgin and the Bride: Idealized Womanhood in Late Antiquity showed how asceticism could become a “rhetorical weapon” that displaced traditional sources of authority with the (male) ascetic teacher.111 Women’s roles in “heretical” developments, a favorite topos of ancient writers—for example, in Priscillianism—received new treatment by Virginia Burrus, who brought out women’s role in the controversy.112 105. Mary Evelyn Jegen, reviewing Sr. Mary Lawrence McKenna, Women of the Church: Role and Renewal (New York, 1967), CHR, 56 (1970), 320–21. McKenna argues that early Christians’ “‘ecclesial’ spirituality” was later “replaced by a style of religious life emphasizing asceticism rather than service.” Jegen admits that the book raises significant questions. 106. Handmaids of the Lord: Contemporary Descriptions of Feminine Asceticism in the First Six Centuries, ed. and trans. Joan M. Peterson (Kalamazoo, 1996), reviewed by Elizabeth A. Clark, CHR, 85 (1999), 593–94; Mary T. Malone, Women and Christianity, vol. 1, The First Thousand Years (New York, 2001), reviewed by Felice Lifshitz, CHR, 87 (2001), 706–07; Women in Early Christianity: Translations from Greek Texts, ed. Patricia Cox Miller (Washington, DC, 2005), reviewed by Jack Tannous, CHR, 93 (2007), 126–27; Women in the Early Church, ed. Elizabeth A. Clark (Wilmington, DE, 1983); Ross S. Kraemer, Maenads, Martyrs, Matrons, Monastics: A Sourcebook on Women’s Religions in the Greco-Roman World (Philadelphia, 1988). 107. Holy Women of Byzantium: Ten Saints’ Lives in English, ed. Alice-Mary Talbot (Washington, DC, 1996), reviewed by John Thomas, CHR, 84 (1998), 73–74; Christian Harrington, Women in a Celtic Church: Ireland 450–1150 (New York, 2002), reviewed (and critiqued) by Lisa Bitel, CHR, 89 (2003), 749–51. 108. Joyce E. Salisbury, Perpetua’s Passion: The Death and Memory of a Young Roman Woman (New York, 1997), reviewed by Stephen Benko, CHR, 84 (1998), 727–28. 109. E.g., Thomas J. Heffernan, reviewing Lynda L. Coon, Sacred Fictions: Holy Women and Hagiography in Late Antiquity (Philadelphia, 1997), CHR, 85 (1999), 277–78. On Brown’s “holy man,” see below. 110. Benedicta Ward, Harlots of the Desert: A Study of Repentance in Early Monastic Sources (Kalamazoo, 1988), reviewed by David Johnson, CHR, 75 (1989), 471–72. 111. Kate Cooper, The Virgin and the Bride: Idealized Womanhood in Late Antiquity (Cambridge, MA, 1996), reviewed by David G. Hunter, CHR, 84 (1998), 314–15. Also see Margaret Y. MacDonald, Early Christian Women and Pagan Opinion: The Power of the Hysterical Woman (New York, 1996), reviewed by Stephen Benko, CHR, 85 (1999), 275–76 (referring to Celsus’s derogatory phrase). 112. Burrus, Making of a Heretic, reviewed by Steinhauser, CHR, 83 (1997), 752–53. ELIZABETH A. CLARK 49 Women’s ordination (and what that term might mean) was also a topic of interest. Ordained Women in the Early Church: A Documentary History was praised by the reviewer as a useful collection of documents, drawn from “literary, canonical, and epigraphic” sources. The reviewer comments: “If ever there were doubts that women were ordained to ministerial positions in the early church, such doubts can now be put to rest.”113 4. Conversion How did Christians become Christians? Should institutional forms or personal factors be stressed as decisive in “Christianization”? W. H. C. Frend, reviewing E. Glenn Hinson, The Evangelization of the Roman Empire, opts for noninstitutional factors: “love,” secrecy of rites, promise of salvation, and high ethical standards.114 Or should emphasis lie on the attractions of the “miraculous” for potential converts?115 When Arthur Darby Nock published Conversion in 1933, Neil McLynn comments, “he could treat ‘Christianity’ as a given.” Now it is part of the problem to be investigated. Moreover, Nock understood conversion as a “mental event”; now scholars look to “social processes.”116 Despite criticisms, Nock provided a new typology that differentiated religions of “conversion” (Christianity) from religions of “adhesion” (most religions of the ancient world). Recent scholars describe conversion in late antiquity as a “shift of affiliation,” arguing that complete conversion “is a chimera, something to be imagined, constituted, preached and pleaded for.”117 113. William Tabbernee, reviewing Ordained Women in the Early Church: A Documentary History, ed. and trans. Kevin Madigan and Carolyn Osiek (Baltimore, 2005), CHR, 93 (2007), 127–28. 114. W. H. C. Frend, reviewing E. Glenn Hinson, The Evangelization of the Roman Empire: Identity and Adaptability (Ithaca, NY, 1981), CHR, 67 (1981), 455–56. 115. Ramsay MacMullen, Christianizing the Roman Empire (A.D. 100–400) (New Haven, 1984), reviewed by W. H. C. Frend, CHR, 71 (1985), 448–49. 116. Neil McLynn, “Seeing and Believing: Aspects of Conversion from Antoninus Pius to Louis the Pious,” in Conversion in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages: Seeing and Believing, ed. Kenneth Mills and Anthony Grafton (Rochester, NY, 2003), pp. 224–70, here p. 225. The CHR review of Nock’s book in 1933 illustrates well how reviewers cannot predict the significance of a book: the most the reviewer can say is that the book is a “useful contribution” (Martin R. P. McGuire, reviewing A. D. Nock, Conversion: The Old and New in Religion from Alexander the Great to Augustine of Hippo [London and New York, 1933], CHR, 21 [1933], 199–200). For a more “anthropological” (i.e., “nonmental”) approach to conversion that attends to “lived religion,” see Ramsay MacMullen, Christianity and Paganism in the Fourth to Eighth Centuries (New Haven, 1997), reviewed by William E. Klingshirn, CHR, 85 (1999), 594–97. 117. Mills and Grafton, Introduction, in Conversion in Late Antiquity, ed. Mills and Grafton, pp. ix–x, here p. ix. “Time and again,” they add, “officially prescribed Christianity 50 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY In antiquity, conversion to Christianity could be from Judaism or from “pagan” cults. Although long ago Adolf von Harnack and Friedrich Loofs argued that nascent Christianity soon cast off its Jewish roots, scholars in recent times have asked when, if ever, “the ways parted.” Daniel Boyarin provocatively raised this question in Border Lines (2004),118 and various scholars further explored it in The Ways That Never Parted (2007).119 These important books, however, appear to have been passed over by the CHR. Books on John Chrysostom and Ephrem the Syrian show how Judaism (or Judaizing Christianity) was still, in the late-fourth century, a concern to bishops in Syria,120 while Andrew Jacobs in Christ Circumcised (2012) appeals to psychoanalytical theory to explain how early Christian writers simultaneously rejected and reinscribed Jesus’s Jewishness in their treatment of his circumcision. This, Jacobs concludes, is an inevitable process in identity formation.121 An older model posited a decadent “paganism” from which Christianity separated itself;122 even in the 1960s, scholars emphasized “conflict” between the two groups.123 In 1980, James O’Donnell rued scholarship’s disfigurement “by the unseemly partisanship of those who side with Christians or ‘pagans’ and write the history of the times as a melodramatic show- comes up against the limits of its ability to steer converts and dictate the terms of their belief and practice.” 118. Daniel Boyarin, Border Lines: The Partition of Judaeo-Christianity (Philadelphia, 2004). 119. Adam H. Becker and Annette Yoshiko Reed, eds., The Ways That Never Parted: Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (Minneapolis, 2007); Judith M. Lieu, Neither Jew nor Greek? Constructing Early Christianity (Edinburgh and New York, 2002). 120. Robert L. Wilken, John Chrysostom and the Jews: Rhetoric and Reality in the Late 4th Century (Berkeley, 1983), reviewed by Thomas M. Finn, CHR, 71 (1985), 588–89; Christine Shepardson, Anti-Judaism and Christian Orthodoxy: Ephrem’s Hymns in Fourth-Century Syria (Washington, DC, 2008), reviewed by Paul S. Russell, CHR, 95 (2009), 780–82. 121. Andrew S. Jacobs, Christ Circumcised: A Study in Early Christian History and Difference (Philadelphia, 2012), reviewed by James Carleton Paget, CHR, 99 (2013), 326–27. 122. Joseph-Rhéal Laurin, Orientations maîtresses des apologistes chrétiens de 270 à 261 (Rome, 1954), reviewed by Thomas B. Falls, CHR, 41 (1955), 301–02, here 301. Sharp separation of pagan and Christian ideals: William P. H. Kitchin, reviewing Dom Hugh G. Bevenot, Pagan and Christian Rule (New York and London, 1924), CHR, 11 (1925), 522– 23; William F. McDonald, reviewing M. L. W. Laistner, Christianity and Pagan Culture in the Later Roman Empire (Ithaca, NY, 1951), CHR, 37 (1952), 441–42; N. Q. King, The Emperor Theodosius and the Establishment of Christianity (Philadelphia, 1961), reviewed by Hermes Kreilkamp, CHR, 49 (1963), 399–400. 123. Arnaldo Momigliano, ed., The Conflict between Paganism and Christianity in the Fourth Century (New York, 1963), reviewed by Cyril E. Smith, CHR, 49 (1963), 398–99. ELIZABETH A. CLARK 51 down between two parties—a course possible only if we take Christian propaganda of the period at face value.”124 The recent trend (already evident in Peter Brown’s essays collected in Society and the Holy in Late Antiquity and stressed by reviewer James J. O’Donnell) blurs the line125 by noting, for example, how traditions of patronage could easily move from traditional Roman religion to Christianity;126 how more philosophically minded pagans veered toward monotheism;127 and how, within aristocratic families, pagans and Christians coexisted.128 Paganism flourished in Alexandria, Athens, and Gaza into the sixth century, as well as in the hinterlands, as was detailed in Demetrios Constantelos’s essay “Paganism and the State in the Age of Justinian” in a 1964 issue of the CHR.129 Constantine’s own conversion continued to be much debated.130 Nineteenth-century doubt regarding its reality or sincerity (such as Jacob Burckhardt’s) gave way to twentieth-century acceptance (e.g., by Timothy Barnes and Charles Odahl, whose books on the topic were reviewed by the 124. James J. O’Donnell, reviewing G. W. Bowersock, Julian the Apostate (Cambridge, MA, 1978), CHR, 66 (1980), 471–72, here 471. Bringing Christianity into closer association with the classical past: Werner Jaeger, Early Christianity and Greek Paideia (Cambridge, MA, 1961), reviewed by Denis Meelan, CHR, 47 (1962), 516–17 (who laments that Jaeger died before completing his masterful volumes of Paideia); and Henry Chadwick, Early Christian Thought and the Classical Tradition: Studies in Justin, Clement, and Origen (New York, 1966), reviewed by Herbert Musurillo, CHR, 54 (1969), 660–61. 125. Peter Brown, Society and the Holy in Late Antiquity (Berkeley, 1982), reviewed by James J. O’Donnell, CHR, 70 (1984), 104; Lepelley, Les Cités de l’Afrique romaine, reviewed by Eno, CHR, 70 (1984), 108–09. 126. Matthews, Western Aristocracies, reviewed by Eno, CHR, 64 (1978), 124–25. 127. Pagan monotheism: upheld by Polymnia Athanassiadi and Michael Frede, eds., Pagan Monotheism in Late Antiquity (Oxford and New York, 1999); denied by Mark Edwards, “Pagan and Christian Monotheism in the Age of Constantine,” in Approaching Late Antiquity, ed. Swain and Edwards, pp. 211–34 128. Salzman, Making of a Christian Aristocracy, reviewed by Barnes, CHR, 88 (2002), 748–49. 129. Demetrios J. Constantelos, “Paganism and the State in the Age of Justinian,” CHR, 50 (1964), 372–80, here 372–78. Also see Frank R. Trombley, Hellenic Religion and Christianization c. 370–529, 2 vols. (Leiden, 1993, 1994), reviewed by Timothy E. Gregory, CHR, 81 (1995), 633–34. As reported by Gregory, Trombley attributes Christianity’s triumph to the managerial savvy of bishops who used “a combination of state control and pragmatic accommodation” to win converts (p. 633). For paganism and Christianity in Egypt, see David Frankfurter, Religion in Roman Egypt: Assimilation and Resistance (Princeton, 1998). 130. Elizabeth DePalma Digeser claims that Constantine was barely Christian even late in his reign, holding to a syncretistic monotheism; this view is strongly criticized by the reviewer, who claims Constantine had “a growing sense of Christian missionary zeal in [his] public religious policies . . . as his reign wore on” (Charles M. Odahl, reviewing Digeser, The Making of a Christian Empire: Lactantius & Rome [Ithaca, NY, 2000], CHR, 87 [2001], 479–81). 52 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY CHR).131 Harold Drake in Constantine and the Bishops (2000) portrays Constantine as a consensus builder whose Christianity was inclusive and noncoercive, excepting for “heresy.”132 By 2011, Drake adds, few serious scholars now doubt that Constantine became a Christian. The question is, “What kind of Christian did Constantine become?”133 5. Identity Construction and Maintenance If such were the processes of conversion, how was Christian identity constructed and maintained? Several books directly address this question. Denise Kimber Buell in Why This New Race: Ethnic Reasoning in Early Christianity (2005) argues that Christians, defining themselves as a “new race,” engaged in a “double-sided discourse” of fixity and fluidity.134 Christians’ claim that their religion was universal did not preclude their appeal to categories of ethnicity and race. “Ethnic reasoning,” Buell concludes, provided “a flexible and widely used tool of self-fashioning for those whom we study as early Christians.”135 For Benjamin Dunning, in Aliens and Sojourners (2009), early Christian writers tightened in-group identity by casting others as aliens or outsiders and by holding that they, as a “third race,” were more virtuous than “Greeks” or “barbarians.” Dunning openly 131. Timothy D. Barnes, Constantine and Eusebius (Cambridge, MA, 1981), reviewed by Robert M. Grant, CHR, 70 (1984), 100–01; Athanasius and Constantius: Theology and Politics in the Constantinian Empire (Cambridge, MA, 1993), reviewed by Charles Kannengiesser, CHR, 80 (1994), 561–65; Charles Matson Odahl, Constantine and the Christian Empire (New York, 2004), reviewed by Justin Stephens, CHR, 93 (2007), 373–74. Also see Charles Odahl, “God and Constantine: Divine Sanction for Imperial Rule in the First Christian Emperor’s Early Letters and Art,” CHR, 81 (1995), 327–52. The trend to “acceptance” was already evident by the 1930s: see Norman H. Baynes, Constantine the Great and the Christian Church (London, 1931); Andrew Alföldi, The Conversion of Constantine and Pagan Rome, trans. Harold Mattingly (Oxford, 1948), reviewed by Martin R. P. McGuire, CHR, 37 (1952), 439–41; Paul Keresztes, Constantine: A Great Christian Monarch and Apostle (Amsterdam, 1981), reviewed by Robert B. Eno, CHR, 70 (1984), 99–100; Périclés-Pierre Joannou, La Législation Impériale et la Christianisation de l’Empire Romain (311–476) (Rome, 1972), reviewed by Bernard F. Deutsch, CHR, 60 (1974), 463–64. 132. H. A. Drake, Constantine and the Bishops: The Politics of Intolerance (Baltimore, 2000), reviewed by Hans A. Pohlsander, CHR, 87 (2001), 80–81, who disagrees. 133. H. A. Drake, reviewing Klaus Martin Girardet, Der Kaiser und sein Gott: Das Christentum im Denken und in der Religionspolitik Konstantins des Grossen (New York, 2010), CHR, 97 (2011), 755–57. Raymond Van Dam’s view: Constantinian political ideology aligned well with a subordinationist view of Christ in relation to the Father, The Roman Revolution of Constantine (New York, 2007), reviewed by E. D. Hunt, CHR, 94 (2008), 773–75. 134. Denise Kimber Buell, Why This New Race: Ethnic Reasoning in Early Christianity (New York, 2005), reviewed by Gay L. Byron, CHR, 93 (2007), 889–91. 135. Ibid., p. 169. ELIZABETH A. CLARK 53 engages the vexed problem of “how to expropriate social data from texts that were not written for that purpose”136—an issue that resonates with many historians of early Christianity. Religious rites, especially baptism, were one means of creating and sealing Christian identity. In mid-third-century Carthage (modern Tunis), Bishop Cyprian debated whether to “rebaptize” those who had been baptized in schism.137 (A CHR reviewer of J. Patout Burns’s Cyprian the Bishop stressed Burns’s claim that practices surrounding the forgiveness of sins have prompted scholars “to correlate the social and cultural circumstances of different communities at the time with their assumptions about the efficacy of their ritual practices and their concepts of their place in the cosmos.”)138 In the fourth and early fifth centuries, baptism continued to fuel contests in North Africa between Donatists and Catholics: who had (or had not) received an efficacious baptism, and which bishops had been correctly ordained so as to administer it? William Frend’s The Donatist Church (1952) spurred a renewal of interest in Donatist practices,139 while baptism was at the center of Emin Tengström’s Donatisten und Katholiken (1964).140 Another practice that worked to confirm Christian identity was the ritual kiss. Michael Penn’s Kissing Christians (2005) explores how this practice assisted community formation, serving as “a performative marker of difference and community.” Christians’ refusal to kiss pagans, Jews, and heretics marked boundaries between the Catholic orthodox and those outside.141 Pilgrimage was another semiritualized activity that confirmed Christian identity by binding Christians to their traveling companions, to Christians at the sites they visited, and to their coreligionists back home. The Emperor Constantine’s mother, Helena, a major sponsor of religious construction in the Holy Land, gave a spur to pilgrimage; by the end of the 136. Benjamin H. Dunning, Aliens and Sojourners: Self as Other in Early Christianity (Philadelphia, 2009), reviewed by Carolyn Osiek, CHR, 96 (2010), 760–61. 137. Paolo Bernardini, Un solo battesimo, una sola Chiesa: Il concilio di Cartagine del settembre 256 (Bologna, 2009), reviewed by Geoffrey D. Dunn, CHR, 96 (2010), 508–09. 138. J. Patout Burns, Cyprian the Bishop (London and New York, 2002), reviewed by Graeme Clarke, CHR, 89 (2003), 540–42, here 541. 139. Frend, Donatist Church, reviewed by Christopher, CHR, 39 (1953), 308–09. 140. Emin Tengström, Donatisten und Katholiken: Soziale, wirtschaftliche und politische Aspekte einer nordafrikanischen Kirchenspaltung (Göteborg, 1964). 141. Michael Philip Penn, Kissing Christians: Ritual and Community in the Late Ancient Church (Philadelphia, 2005), reviewed by George Kalantzis, CHR, 93 (2007), 891–92. Penn cites Mary Douglas on purity and boundary formation, Catherine Bell on ritual, and Pierre Bourdieu on creating “distinction.” 54 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY fourth century, she was deemed the inspiration for the finding of the True Cross.142 How Palestine came to be imagined as the Holy Land was treated by E. D. Hunt in Holy Land Pilgrimage in the Later Roman Empire (1982), Robert Wilken in The Land Called Holy (1992), and Andrew Jacobs in The Remains of the Jews (2004).143 The pilgrimage of the nun Egeria from her Western homeland to Palestine in the late-fourth century provides a fascinating insight into the early Christian “tourist business,” and in addition is one of the only extant early Christian texts written by a woman—but books detailing her story were not covered by the CHR.144 Georgia Frank in The Memory of the Eyes (2000) argued that ancient Christian pilgrims sought out not only places of biblical fame, but also people, “the new ascetic heroes” of the desert. Through visual imagination, pilgrims collapsed “contemporary surroundings into a past drawn from the pages of the Bible.”145 Newer interests in sacred space and geography were also on display in Brouria Bitton-Ashkelony’s Encountering the Sacred: The Debate on Christian Pilgrimage in Late Antiquity (2005).146 As the above discussion suggests, Christian identity was created and maintained in a variety of ways in the early Christian era. The CHR’s coverage of this material, however, appears to have been somewhat sporadic. 142. Jan Willem Drijvers, Helena Augusta: The Mother of Constantine the Great and the Legend of Her Finding the True Cross (Leiden, 1992), reviewed by H. A. Drake, CHR, 79 (1993), 508–09. 143. E. D. Hunt, Holy Land Pilgrimage in the Later Roman Empire. AD 312–460 (New York, 1982), reviewed by H. A. Drake, CHR, 71 (1985), 452; Robert L. Wilken, The Land Called Holy: Palestine in Christian History and Thought (New Haven, 1992), reviewed by Gregory T. Armstrong, CHR, 79 (1993), 728–29; Andrew Jacobs, The Remains of the Jews: The Holy Land and Christian Empire in Late Antiquity (Stanford, CA, 2004). On pilgrimage in Egypt, see the collection edited by David Frankfurter, Pilgrimage and Holy Space in Late Antique Egypt (Leiden, 1998). 144. For English translations of and commentary on the Itinerarium Egeriae, see John Wilkinson, Egeria’s Travels (London, 1971); George E. Gingras, Egeria: Diary of a Pilgrimage (New York and Ramsey, NJ, 1970); and more recently, with French translation of the critical text and introduction, Pierre Maraval, Journal de voyage: Itinéraire Egérie (Paris, 1982). Also see Maraval’s Lieux saints et pèlerinages d’Orient: Histoire et géographie des origins à la conquête arabe (Paris, 1985). For an introduction to the vast literature on this topic, see Georgia Frank, “Pilgrimage,” in Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies, ed. Susan Ashbrook Harvey and David G. Hunter (Oxford and New York, 2008), pp. 826–41. 145. E. D. Hunt, summarizing and reviewing Georgia Frank, The Memory of the Eyes: Pilgrims to Living Saints in Christian Late Antiquity (Berkeley, 2000), CHR, 88 (2002), 749–50. 146. Brouria Bitton-Ashkelony, Encountering the Sacred: The Debate on Christian Pilgrimage in Late Antiquity (Berkeley, 2005), reviewed by Andrew Jacobs, CHR, 93 (2007), 131–32. For a lively discussion, see Blake Leyerle, “Landscape as Cartography in Early Christian Pilgrimage Narratives,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion, 64 (1996), 119–43. ELIZABETH A. CLARK 55 6. “The Body,” Martyrdom, and Asceticism “The body” became an area of focus from the 1980s onward, spurred by the work of Michel Foucault (whose books The Use of Pleasure, The Care of the Self, Discipline and Punish, The Birth of the Clinic, and The Birth of Biopolitics all focused on bodily practices) and by Peter Brown’s The Body and Society in Late Antiquity.147 The discipline and cultivation of the body in antiquity were topics easily transportable to the study of early Christianity. An entire cluster of topics gathered around this overarching theme; for example, resurrection, for which see especially Caroline W. Bynum’s CHR article “Images of the Resurrection Body in the Theology of Late Antiquity.” In it, she details the doctrine’s connection to fears of cannibalism and to the Eucharist.148 Similarly, controversies over the body—its origin, destiny, and composition—were central to several early Christian theological disputes.149 Dying and dead bodies were featured in Eric Rebillard’s In Hora Mortis (1994), which drew its evidence for changes in the understanding of death (and its link with original sin) from sermons and pastoral approaches.150 Two topics in particular pertaining to the body caught the attention of scholars of early Christianity: martyrdom and asceticism. Martyr accounts assisted the construction of Christian identity and (according to their narrators) even won some pagans to the Christian cause. Recounting the bravery of Christians whose bodies were subjected to torture unto death bolstered the faith of the living.151 Even if the numbers were not as great as movie epics portrayed nor the Romans as vile, the accounts provided abundant sources for historians of early Christianity. 147. Peter Brown, The Body and Society: Men, Women, and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity (New York, 1988). 148. Caroline W. Bynum, “Images of the Resurrection Body in the Theology of Late Antiquity,” CHR, 80 (1994), 215–37. 149. For example, see Clark, Origenist Controversy. Works on “Gnosticism” often touch on this theme as well. 150. Eric Rebillard, In Hora Mortis: Evolution de la pastorale Chrétienne de la mort aux IV et V siècles dans l’Occident latin (Rome, 1994), reviewed by Allan Fitzgerald, CHR, 82 (1996), 681–83. 151. Herbert Musurillo’s 1972 publication of The Acts of the Christian Martyrs provided handy access to twenty-eight martyr accounts; The Acts of the Christian Martyrs (New York, 1972), reviewed by Louis J. Swift, CHR, 60 (1974), 456–57. Also note Maureen Tilley’s translations in Donatist Martyr Stories: The Church in Conflict in Roman North Africa (Liverpool, 1996). Musurillo also contributed The Acts of the Pagan Martyrs: Acta Alexandrinorum (New York, 1954), reviewed by William F. McDonald, CHR, 41 (1956), 474–75. 56 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY Notable monographs on martyrs, martyr cults, and relics include W. H. C. Frend’s Martyrdom and Persecution in the Early Church (1965), concerning which reviewer Martin McGuire praised the book’s coverage but, with other reviewers, faulted its overemphasis on Jewish influence and its too sharp contrast between Catholic urban dwellers and Berber peasants;152 Victor Saxer’s Morts, Martyrs, Reliques en Afrique Chrétienne aux premiers siècles (1980);153 Glen Bowersock’s Martyrdom and Rome (1995);154 Daniel Boyarin’s Dying for God: Martyrdom and the Making of Christianity and Judaism;155 Stephanie Cobb’s Dying to Be Men: Gender and Language in Early Christian Martyr Texts (2008);156 Patricia Cox Miller’s Corporeal Imagination: Signifying the Body in Late Ancient Christianity (2009), exploring how body parts of the deceased, or “relics,” spurred early Christian identity;157 and Candida Moss’s Ancient Christian Martyrdom: Diverse Practices, Theologies, and Traditions (2012).158 For some especially grim tales of female martyrs of the East, see Sebastian P. Brock and Susan Ashbrook Harvey’s translations in Holy Women of the Syrian Orient.159 The CHR’s coverage of these books, as the footnotes reveal, was somewhat uneven. Two recent works on persecution and martyrdom (both reviewed by the CHR) are notable for their theoretical appeal. Thomas Sizgorich in Violence and Belief in Late Antiquity (2009) borrows props from cultural anthropology and sociology to explore how and why both early Christian and early Muslim groups treasured stories of persecution and martyrdom. The persecuted, Sizgorich concludes, shore up clear communal bound- 152. W. H. C. Frend, Martyrdom and Persecution in the Early Church: A Study of the Conflict from the Maccabees to Donatus (Oxford, 1965; New York, 1967), reviewed by Martin R. P. McGuire, CHR, 53 (1968), 676–78. 153. Victor Saxer, Morts, Martyrs, Reliques en Afrique Chrétienne aux premiers siècles (Paris, 1980), reviewed by Alfred C. Rush, CHR, 70 (1984), 97–98. See also Saxer’s Saint Vincent diacre et martyr: Culte et légendes avant l’An Mil (Brussels, 2002), reviewed by John Howe, CHR, 90 (2004), 302–03. 154. Glen W. Bowersock, Martyrdom and Rome (New York, 1995), reviewed by Brent D. Shaw, CHR, 82 (1996), 488–91. 155. Daniel Boyarin, Dying for God: Martyrdom and the Making of Christianity and Judaism (Stanford, CA, 1999), important as a study in identity formation. 156. L. Stephanie Cobb, Dying to Be Men: Gender and Language in Early Christian Martyr Texts (New York, 2008). 157. Patricia Cox Miller, The Corporeal Imagination: Signifying the Holy in Late Ancient Christianity (Philadelphia, 2009), reviewed by Andrew Louth, CHR, 96 (2010), 514–15. 158. Candida R. Moss, Ancient Christian Martyrdom: Diverse Practices, Theologies, and Traditions (New Haven, 2012). 159. Holy Women of the Syrian Orient, trans. Sebastian P. Brock and Susan Ashbrook Harvey (Berkeley, 1987). ELIZABETH A. CLARK 57 aries and “function as exemplars for the identity constituted by the boundary.”160 Elizabeth Castelli, in Martyrdom and Memory: Early Christian Culture Making (2004), cites Maurice Halbwachs’s influential study of the role of memory in cultural formation to argue that martyr stories gave Christians a “useable past” and helped to fashion a distinctively Christian culture.161 If martyrdom provided one expanding area of research pertaining to the body, a second was asceticism. In the late-twentieth century, reviews in the CHR of books on asceticism and early monasticism abounded.162 Departing from earlier studies that emphasized either asceticism’s roots in “Greek dualism”164 or its purely spiritual aspects, recent scholars have strengthened their work with insights borrowed from anthropology, psychology, and gender studies. (Reviewer Daniel Caner writes, “Early monastic history, once mainly a subject of sectarian debate, has become a lively field of secular inquiry, due not least to the impact of anthropology and archaeology.”164) Interest in the use and interpretation of scripture in ascetic and monastic contexts165 160. Thomas Sizgorich, Violence and Belief in Late Antiquity: Militant Devotion in Christianity and Islam (Philadelphia, 2009), reviewed by Elizabeth A. Castelli, CHR, 96 (2010), 512–14. 161. Kristina Sessa, reviewing Elizabeth A. Castelli, Martyrdom and Memory: Early Christian Culture Making (New York, 2004), CHR, 94 (2008), 771–73. Castelli relates the “making” of early Christian martyrdom to the creation of “martyr cults” in modern America (Columbine, 9/11). 162. For earlier contributions, see, e.g., Dom Cuthbert Butler, Benedictine Monachism: Studies in Benedictine Life and Rule, 2nd ed. (London, 1924), reviewed by Alfred H. Sweet, CHR, 10, (1924), 450–53. This more traditional research is carried on by, e.g., Adalbert de Vogüé, Histoire littéraire du mouvement monastique dans l’antiquité, 12 vols. (Paris, 1991). 163. Herbert Musurillo, reviewing Bernhard Lohse, Askese und Mönchtum in der Antike und in der alten Kirche (Munich, 1969), CHR, 58 (1973), 476–78. 164. Daniel Caner, reviewing Giovanni Filoramo, Monachesimo orientale: Un’ introduzione (Brescia, 2010), CHR, 97 (2011), 757–58, here 758. 165. Some examples: Douglas Burton-Christie, The Word in the Desert: Scripture and the Quest for Holiness in Early Christian Monasticism (New York, 1993), reviewed by Graham Gould, CHR, 80 (1994), 559–60; Margaret M. Mitchell, The Heavenly Trumpet: John Chrysostom and the Art of Pauline Interpretation (Louisville, KY, 2002); Richard A. Layton, Didymus the Blind and His Circle in Late-Antique Alexandria: Virtue and Narrative in Biblical Scholarship (Urbana, IL, and Chicago, 2004), reviewed by John J. O’Keefe, CHR, 91 (2005), 513–14; Luke Dysinger, Psalmody and Prayer in the Writings of Evagrius Ponticus (Oxford, 2005), reviewed by Andrew Louth, CHR, 93 (2007), 894–96; Megan Hale Williams, The Monk and the Book: Jerome and the Making of Christian Scholarship (Chicago and London, 2006), reviewed by Neil Adkin, CHR, 94 (2008), 322–23; Cain, Letters of Jerome, reviewed by Harward, CHR, 96 (2010), 762–63; Paul and the Legacies of Paul, ed. William S. Babcock (Dallas, 1990), reviewed by Frank J. Matera, CHR, 77 (1991), 492–93; Felix Thome, 58 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY followed the wider academic scholarship on “books and readers” in late antiquity.166 New editions and translations of the Lives and sayings of Desert Fathers and Mothers, as well as publications detailing early monastic groups, spurred the field;167 for example, translation of the Greek systematic collection of the Apophthegmata Patrum,168 studies of the Augustinian Rule,169 and anthologies on asceticism in Greco-Roman antiquity.170 A major new resource for Coptic monasticism will gradually become available as an international team headed by Stephen Emmel begins publication of the surviving works of Shenoute of Atripe, long-lived leader of the White Monastery in Upper Egypt in the late fourth and early fifth centuries. Historia contra Mythos: Die Schriftauslegung Diodors von Tarsus und Theodors von Mopsuestia im Widerstreit zu Kaiser Julians und Salustius’ allegorischem Mythverständnis (Bonn, 2004), reviewed (negatively) by G. W. Bowersock, CHR, 91 (2005), 131–32; Elizabeth A. Clark, Reading Renunciation: Asceticism and Scripture in Early Christianity (Princeton, 1999). 166. A seminal work that spurred the field: William V. Harris, Ancient Literacy (Cambridge, MA, 1989). For Christians and books: Harry Y. Gamble, Books and Readers in the Early Church (New Haven, 1995), reviewed by Robert M. Grant, CHR, 82 (1996), 492–93; Klingshirn and Safran, Early Christian Book, reviewed by Megan Hale Williams, CHR, 94 (2008), 763–64; Brian Stock, After Augustine: The Meditative Reader and the Text (Philadelphia, 2001), reviewed by Timothy B. Noone, CHR, 89 (2003), 87–88; Catherine M. Chin, Grammar and Christianity in the Late Roman World (Philadelphia, 2008), reviewed by Tina Chronopoulos, CHR, 95 (2009), 782–83. 167. Among others reviewed by CHR: Pachomian Koinonia I, II, III, trans. Armand Veilleux (Kalamazoo, 1980, 1981, 1982), reviewed by Michael Slusser, CHR, 70 (1984), 105–06; James E. Goehring, The Letter of Ammon and Pachomian Monasticism (Berlin and New York, 1986), reviewed by David Johnson, CHR, 75 (1989), 125; The Lives of the Desert Fathers: The Historia Monachorum in Aegypto, trans. Norman Russell (Kalamazoo, 1981), reviewed by Robert T. Meyer, CHR, 70, (1984), 106–07; Ward, Harlots of the Desert, reviewed by David Johnson, CHR, 75 (1989), 471–72; Witness to Holiness: Abba Daniel of Scetis, ed. Tim Vivian (Kalamazoo, 2008), reviewed by James E. Goehring, CHR, 96 (2010), 319–21; The Lives of Simeon Stylites, trans. and introd. Robert Doran (Kalamazoo, 1992), reviewed by David Johnson, CHR, 83 (1997), 753. Also see: Les Apophtegmes des Pères du désert, série alphabétique, trans. Jean-Claude Guy (Etiolles des Dominos, 1968); Les Apophtegmes des Pères: Collection systématique. Introduction, texte critique, traduction et notes, ed. Jean Claude Guy (Paris, 1993). 168. John Wortley, The Book of the Elders: Sayings of the Desert Fathers. The Systematic Collection (Collegeville, MN, 2012), reviewed by Lois Farag, CHR, 99 (2013), 537–38. 169. Luk Verheijen, La Règle de saint Augustin (Paris, 1967); Nouvelle approche de la Règle de saint Augustin (Bégrolles-en-Mauges, France 1980); George Lawless, Augustine of Hippo and His Monastic Rules (New York, 1987), reviewed by James J. O’Donnell, CHR, 75 (1989), 126. 170. Ascetic Behavior in Greco-Roman Antiquity: A Sourcebook, ed. Vincent L. Wimbush (Minneapolis, 1990); followed by Asceticism, ed. Wimbush and Richard Valantasis (New York, 1995), reviewed by Wayne A. Meeks, CHR, 83 (1997), 282–83. ELIZABETH A. CLARK 59 The perennially popular Life of Antony by (presumably) Athanasius, newly edited by G. J. M. Bartelink (1994), received critical scrutiny:171 Samuel Rubenson’s detailed argument for the authenticity of the Letters of Antony shows him to be far more conversant with Alexandrian theology than suggested by Athanasius’s portrait of an unlettered desert ascetic.172 Assessment of Rubenson’s thesis forced a reconsideration of Athanasius’s political and ecclesiastical aims in his Life of Antony and other works. Here David Brakke’s Athanasius and the Politics of Asceticism proved highly influential.173 The study of asceticism has become increasingly specialized. Geographical areas and communities in which asceticism flourished are carefully differentiated: Egypt,174 Gaul,175 Italy,176 Asia Minor.177 Topics, too, became more individualized, as shown in books on wandering monks, 171. Athanasius, Vie d’Antoine: Introduction, texte critique, traduction, notes et index, by G. J. M. Bartelink (Paris, 1994); excerpted and translated by David Brakke, “The Life of Antony,” in Medieval Hagiography: An Anthology, ed. Thomas Head (New York, 2000), reviewed by Glen W. Olsen, CHR, 86 (2002), 319–25. 172. Samuel Rubenson, The Letters of St. Antony: Origenist Theology, Monastic Tradition, and the Making of a Saint (Lund, 1990). 173. David Brakke, Athanasius and the Politics of Asceticism (Oxford and New York, 1995), and Robert Gregg and Dennis Groh, Early Arianism: A View of Salvation (Philadelphia, 1981), on Arianism and Athanasius’s relation thereto, were early contributions. By the time of Lewis Ayres, Nicaea and Its Legacy: An Approach to Fourth-Century Trinitarian Theology (Oxford, 2004), “Arianism” was all but abandoned as a historical category, its creation attributed largely to Athanasius. 174. E.g., Philip Rousseau, Pachomius: The Making of a Community in Fourth-Century Egypt (Berkeley, 1985), reviewed by David Johnson, CHR, 73 (1987), 130–31; Caroline T. Schroeder, Monastic Bodies: Discipline and Salvation in Shenoute of Atripe (Philadelphia, 2007), reviewed by Andrew Crislip, CHR, 94 (2008), 768–70. 175. Friedrich Prinz, Frühes Mönchtum im Frankenreich: Kultur und Gesellschaft in Gallien, den Rheinlanden und Bayern am Beispiel der monastischen Entwicklung (4. bis 8. Jahrhündert) (Munich and Vienna, 1965), reviewed by Bede Lachner, CHR, 54 (1968), 102–03; Columba Stewart, Cassian the Monk (New York, 1998), reviewed by Terrence G. Kardong, CHR, 84 (1998), 728–30. 176. Joseph T. Lienhard, Paulinus of Nola and Early Western Monasticism: With a Study of the Chronology of His Works and an Annotated Bibliography, 1879–1976 (Cologne, 1977), reviewed by W. H. C. Frend, CHR, 66 (1980), 585–86; Dennis E. Trout, Paulinus of Nola: Life, Letters, and Poems (Berkeley, 1999), reviewed by Danuta Shanzer, CHR, 87 (2001), 481–83; Georg Jenal, Italia ascetica atque monastica: Das Asketen- and Mönchtum in Italien von den Anfängen bis zur Zeit der Langobarden (ca. 150/250–604) (Stuttgart, 1995), reviewed by James J. O’Donnell, CHR, 83 (1997), 744–45. 177. Rousseau, Basil of Caesarea, reviewed by Henry Chadwick, CHR, 82 (1996), 497– 98; Susanna Elm, Virgins of God: The Making of Asceticism in Late Antiquity (Oxford and New York, 1994); and (one of the few essays in the CHR on early Christianity), Charles A. Frazee, “Anatolian Asceticism in the Fourth Century: Eustathios of Sebastea and Basil of Caesarea,” CHR, 66 (1980), 16–33. 60 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY fasting, illness, prayer, and demons, for example.178 This specialization followed the trend among ancient historians to focus on a particular region or city of the Roman Empire.179 On this topic, Syria’s place as an ascetic center independent of Egypt is now increasingly underscored.180 Of special importance for Syriac studies has been the recovery of the Syriac translation of writings by the prime ancient ascetic theoretician Evagrius Ponticus.181 A seminal work prompting the “Evagrius renais- 178. E.g., wandering monks: Daniel Caner, Wandering, Begging Monks: Spiritual Authority and the Promotion of Monasticism in Late Antiquity (Berkeley, 2002), reviewed by Georgia Frank, CHR, 89 (2003), 745–46; Maribel Dietz, Wandering Monks, Virgins, and Pilgrims: Ascetic Travel in the Mediterranean World, A.D. 300–800 (State College, PA, 2005), reviewed by A. H. Merrills, CHR, 93 (2007), 607–08. Fasting in relation to sexuality: Teresa M. Shaw, The Burden of the Flesh: Fasting and Sexuality in Early Christianity (Minneapolis, 1998), reviewed by Philip Rousseau, CHR, 85 (1999), 272–75. Illness: Crislip, Thorns in the Flesh. Prayer: Luke Dysinger, Psalmody and Prayer in the Writings of Evagrius Ponticus (Oxford and New York, 2005), reviewed by Andrew Louth, CHR, 93 (2007), 894–96. Demons: David Brakke, Demons and the Making of the Monk: Spiritual Combat in Early Christianity (Cambridge, MA, 2006). On the latter topic, Evagrius Ponticus’s Antirrhetikos proved key. 179. A few books reviewed in CHR: Attila Jakab, Ecclesia alexandrina: Evolution sociale et institutionnelle du christianisme alexandrin (II e et III e siècles) (Bern and New York, 2001), reviewed by Birger A. Pearson, CHR, 88 (2002), 561–62; Edward J. Watts, Riot in Alexandria: Tradition and Group Dynamics in Late Antique Pagan and Christian Communities (Berkeley, 2010), reviewed by T. D. Barnes, CHR, 98 (2012), 86–87; Christopher Haas, Alexandria in Late Antiquity (Baltimore, 1997), reviewed by David Johnson, CHR, 84 (1998), 528–29. 180. Works on Syria reviewed in the CHR: Howard Crosby Butler, Early Churches in Syria, ed. E. Baldwin Smith (Princeton, 1929), reviewed by R. Butin, CHR, 18 (1932), 101– 02; Glanville Downey, A History of Antioch in Syria from Seleucus to the Arab Conquest (Princeton, 1961), reviewed by Martin J. Higgins, CHR, 47 (1961), 401; Ancient Antioch (Princeton, 1963), reviewed by Thomas A. Brady, CHR, 49 (1963), 426–27; Louis Bouyer, A History of Christian Spirituality, vol. 1, The Spirituality of the New Testament and the Fathers (New York, 1963), reviewed by Thomas Feher, CHR, 50 (1965), 530–31; Susan Ashbrook Harvey, Asceticism and Society in Crisis: John of Ephesus and “The Lives of the Eastern Saints” (Berkeley, 1990), reviewed by Sebastian Brock, CHR, 77 (1991), 289–90; Jean-Michel Garrigues and Jean Legrez, Moines dans l’assemblée des Fidèles (Paris, 1992), reviewed by Terrence Kardong, CHR, 79 (1993), 94–95; Shepardson, Anti-Judaism and Christian Orthodoxy, reviewed by Russell, CHR, 95 (2009), 780–82. Also see Isabella Sandwell, Religious Identity in Late Antiquity: Greeks, Jews, and Christians in Antioch (Cambridge, UK, and New York, 2007). For an important summary of work on early Christianity in Syria, see Lucas Van Rompay, “The East (3), Syria and Mesopotamia,” in Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies, ed. Harvey and Hunter, pp. 365–86. 181. Important ascetic sources by Evagrius Ponticus preserved in Syriac (but not reviewed in the CHR), Evagriana syriaca: Textes inedits du British Museum et de la Vaticane, ed. J. Muyldermans (Louvain, 1952); and Antirrhetikos (now translated as Talking Back: A Monastic Handbook for Combatting Demons, trans. David Brakke [Trappist, KY, and Collegeville, MN, 2009]). Also see Evagrius of Pontus: The Greek Ascetic Corpus, trans. Robert E. Sinkewicz (New York and Oxford, 2003). ELIZABETH A. CLARK 61 sance” was Antoine Guillaumont, Les “Kephalaia Gnostica” d’Evagre le Pontique et l’histoire de l’Origénisme chez les Grecs et chez les Syriens (1962), not reviewed by the CHR. Although renunciation of sexual activity is a given for early Christian ascetics,182 the theme received an intriguing twist by Virginia Burrus in The Sex Lives of Saints (2004), reviewed by Jennifer Wright Knust. Building on Foucault’s claim that late ancient Christians transformed sex into discourse, Burrus notes the erotic characteristics of Christian ascetic writings in which God and the saint romance each other.183 Burrus’s book bears out Averil Cameron’s observation that scholarly tools have shifted from anthropology to analysis of discourse.184 With the rise of the women’s movement in the later twentieth century and the developing interest of women in history, scholars turned their attention to areas of early Christian study where women received the most attention, chief of which was asceticism. Several editions, translations, and studies of the Lives of female ascetics were published.185 Many of these concerned women of wealthy families, who as ascetics used their resources to support Christian enterprises—doubtless one reason that they were honored with narratives of their lives. 182. Also in clerical celibacy: Jean-Paul Audet, Structures of Christian Priesthood, trans. Rosemary Sheed (New York, 1967), reviewed by Francis X. Murphy, CHR, 56 (1970), 220– 22; and in celibate marriage: Anne P. Alwis, Celibate Marriages in Late Antiquity and Byzantine Hagiography: The Lives of Saints Julian and Basilissa, Andronikos and Athanasia, and Galaktion and Episteme (New York, 2011), reviewed by Claudia Rapp, CHR, 99 (2013), 112–13. 183. Virginia Burrus, The Sex Lives of Saints: An Erotics of Ancient Hagiography (Philadelphia, 2004), reviewed by Jennifer Wright Knust, CHR, 94 (2008), 764–66. 184. Averil Cameron, “On Defining the Holy Man,” in The Cult of the Saints in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages: Essays on the Contribution of Peter Brown, ed. James HowardJohnston and Paul Antony Hayward (Oxford and New York, 1999), pp. 27–44, here p. 41. 185. Ward, Harlots of the Desert, reviewed by Johnson, CHR, 75 (1989), 471–72; Gregory of Nyssa, The Life of Saint Macrina, trans. Kevin Corrigan (Toronto, 1996); Anna M. Silvas, Macrina the Younger, Philosopher of God (Turnhout, 2008); François Halkin, Euphémie de Chalcédoine: Légendes byzantines (Brussels, 1965); Cain, Jerome’s Epitaph on Paula, reviewed by Neil, CHR, 100 (2014), 106–07; Clark, Life of Melania the Younger; “The Life of Olympias”; The Life and Activity of the Holy and Blessed Teacher Syncletica, trans. Elizabeth Castelli, in Ascetic Behavior in Greco-Roman Antiquity, ed. Wimbush; The Life of Saint Helia: Critical Edition, Translation, Introduction, and Commentary by Virginia Burrus and Marco Conti (Oxford, 2014). On Thecla: Gilbert Dagron, Vie et miracles de Sainte Thècle: Texte grec, traduction et commentaire (Brussels, 1978); Stephen Davis, The Cult of Saint Thecla: A Tradition of Women’s Piety in Late Antiquity (Oxford, 2001); Jeremy W. Barrier, The Acts of Paul and Thecla: A Critical Introduction and Commentary (Tübingen, 2009). 62 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY 7. Holy Men, Bishops, and Monks Who might be a Christian “holy man” in late antiquity? Philosophers exuding wisdom?186 Bishops wielding power? Ascetic impresarios serving communities? Peter Brown’s seminal essay of 1971, “The Rise and Function of the Holy Man in Late Antiquity,” showcased radical ascetics of rural Eastern Christendom who functioned as societal hinge persons and as mediators between human and divine.187 Here the shift in terminology from “saint” to “holy man” signaled “a “more phenomenological, anthropologically oriented” approach.188 Averil Cameron called Brown’s holy man “a typically interstitial figure exercising a patronage role based on the symbolic capital of his perceived authority,” mediating between town and country, the powerful and the poor. The holy man, she added, offered “a new means of exploitation of the rich vein of material offered by hagiography.”189 Yet, on later reflection, criticisms abounded. Cameron herself noted that Brown’s anthropological models had been displaced by discourse analysis: Brown had bypassed the “deconstructive turn.” She and others turned the lens onto the text through which the holy man was constructed.190 Other commentators and reviewers agreed: “Historians know hagiographical constructions, not saints.” “Now it is the author,” Susanna Elm wrote, “who emerges as full-blooded, and the power of the saint as a fully textual persona is explored.”191 From a different direction, Claudia Rapp objected that Brown “produced a ‘thaumatocentric’ interpretation of the holy man as patron and exemplar, [while] the evidence of the 186. Patricia Cox, Biography in Late Antiquity: A Quest for the Holy Man (Berkeley, 1983), reviewed by H. A. Drake, CHR, 71 (1985), 581–82. 187. Peter Brown, “The Rise and Function of the Holy Man in Late Antiquity,” Journal of Roman Studies, 61 (1971), 80–101. 188. John Howe, reviewing both Charisma and Society: The 25th Anniversary of Peter Brown’s Analysis of the Late Antique Holy Man, ed. Susanna Elm and Naomi Janowitz, Journal of Early Christian Studies, 6 (1998), 343–539, and Cult of the Saints, ed. Howard-Johnston and Hayward, CHR, 86 (2000), 640–44. Brown continued to use “saint”; see, e.g., his The Cult of the Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity (Chicago, 1981). 189. Cameron, “On Defining the Holy Man,” pp. 27–44, here pp. 27, 31. In followup essays, Brown notes his shift in conceptual tools: “The Saint as Exemplar in Late Antiquity,” Representations, 2 (1983), 1–25, here 1–2; and “SO Debate: The World of Late Antiquity Revisited,” Symbolae Osloenses, 72 (1997), 5–30. 190. Cameron, “On Defining the Holy Man,” pp. 41, 43. Similarly, Philip Rousseau, “Ascetics as Mediators and Teachers,” in Cult of the Saints, ed. Howard-Johnston and Hayward, pp. 45–59, here p. 51. 191. Howe, reviewing Charisma and Society, ed. Elm and Janowitz (citing Elm, p. 349), CHR, 86 (2000), 640–44. ELIZABETH A. CLARK 63 papyri, ostraka, and letters demands a ‘supplicatory’ model,” in which we see prayer’s “role in shaping early notions of brotherhood and spiritual leadership.”192 Along with the holy man, bishops’ self-fashioning, how they garnered and exerted power, caught scholars’ attention.193 In Neil McLynn’s view, “Our heavily episcopocentric view of late antique Christianity has been shaped by an accidental conspiracy between the bishops’ own propaganda and their demonization by their enemies.”194 Peter Kaufman underscores this power-centered understanding of episcopacy: bishops are “executives” who deploy “management strategies.”195 Bishops of late antiquity in their quest for self-definition, Philip Rousseau argues, were “heavily dependent on the florid oratory, the grand urban style and the visible cultic drama of a tolerated church.” These were the bases of “their effective authority—words, buildings and ceremonies,” along with their moral vision.196 Control of cemeteries served as another avenue for the development of episcopal power, especially in major cities such as Rome and Milan. About this phenomenon, Neil McLynn writes, “the churches established their ascendancy as the collegia had once established theirs, by combining a perceived ability to provide an appropriate send-off for the departed and a proven record of posthumous aftercare.”197 Moreover, a bishop of Rome (Leo I) could try to persuade congregations that Peter’s great humility in confessing his sin of denying Christ enhanced not merely Peter’s own episcopal power, but also that of subsequent bishops of Rome—so argues Kevin Uhalde in his CHR article “Pope Leo I on Power and Failure.”198 Several books highlight the urban contexts in which Ambrose (of which Martin McGuire served as the CHR reviewer of 192. Claudia Rapp, “‘For Next to God, You Are My Salvation’: Reflections on the Rise of the Holy Man in Late Antiquity,” in Cult of the Saints, ed. Howard-Johnston and Hayward, pp. 63–81, here p. 81. 193. For “holiness” as essential to a bishop’s ability to lead, see Claudia Rapp, Holy Bishops in Late Antiquity: The Nature of Christian Leadership in an Age of Transition (Berkeley, 2005), reviewed by Robin Darling Young, CHR, 95 (2009), 779–80. 194. McLynn, “Seeing and Believing,” p. 236. 195. Peter Iver Kaufman, Church, Book, and Bishop: Conflict and Authority in Early Latin Christianity (Boulder, CO, 1996), reviewed by Robert B. Eno, CHR, 83 (1997), 167. 196. Philip Rousseau, “Language, Morality and Cult: Augustine and Varro,” in Transformations of Late Antiquity, ed. Rousseau and Papoutsakis, pp. 159–75, here p. 159. 197. McLynn, “Seeing and Believing,” p. 231. 198. Kevin Uhalde, “Pope Leo I on Power and Failure,” CHR, 95 (2009), 671–88. Uhalde stresses the pastoral aspects of Leo’s preaching on this topic. 64 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY choice for several decades),199 Augustine,200 Cyprian,201 John Chrysostom,202 and others amassed their power.203 Bishops of even lesser known places also captured attention; for example, Possidius of Calama, usually recognized only as the biographer of Augustine.204 The ambivalence of renunciation’s link to the acquisition of power is illustrated in the very title of Andrea Sterk’s Renouncing the World Yet Leading the Church: The MonkBishop in Late Antiquity.205 Bishops must navigate a difficult divide between upholding strict biblical injunctions (e.g., against the taking of oaths) and the need to bring peace and order to “life in a fallen world.”206 Roman law and Christianity’s relation to it were featured in several books of the latter half of the twentieth century. Bishops, through their 199. See Martin McGuire, “A New Study of the Political Role of St. Ambrose,” review of Jean-Rémy Palanque’s Saint Ambroise et l’Empire Romain (Paris, 1933), CHR, 22 (1936), 304–18; R. Homes Dudden, The Life and Times of St. Ambrose, 2 vols. (Oxford, 1935), CHR, 24 (1939), 462–64; and Claudio Morino, Chiesa e Stato nella dottrina di S. Ambrogio (Rome, 1963), CHR, 50 (1964), 74–75. Other works on Ambrose reviewed in the CHR: Ernst Dassmann, Die Frommigkeit des Kirchenvaters Ambrosius von Mailand (Münster, 1965), reviewed by Herbert Musurillo, CHR, 53 (1968), 680–82; Angelo Paredi, Ambrogio: Uomo politico (Milan, 1973), reviewed by M. Joseph Costelloe, CHR, 63 (1977), 91–92; Daniel H. Williams, Ambrose of Milan and the End of the Arian-Nicene Conflicts (New York, 1995), reviewed by Joseph T. Lienhard, CHR, 83 (1970), 295–96; Neil B. McLynn, Ambrose of Milan: Church and Court in a Christian Capital (Berkeley, 1994), reviewed by Gerald Bonner, CHR, 82 (1996), 499–500. 200. Van der Meer, Augustine the Bishop, reviewed by Musurillo, CHR, 50 (1965), 537–39. 201. Paolo Bernardini, Un solo battesimo, una sola Chiesa: Il concilio di Cartagine del settembre 256 (Bologna, 2009), reviewed by Geoffrey D. Dunn, CHR, 96 (2010), 508–09. 202. E.g., Jaclyn L. Maxwell, Christianization and Communication in Late Antiquity: John Chrysostom and His Congregation in Antioch (Cambridge, UK, and New York, 2006); J. H. W. G. Liebeschuetz, Ambrose and John Chrysostom: Clerics between Desert and Empire (Oxford, 2011); earlier, J. N. D. Kelly, Golden Mouth: The Story of John Chrysostom—Ascetic, Preacher, Bishop (Ithaca, NY, 1995), reviewed by Gerard H. Ettlinger, CHR, 83 (1997), 296–98. 203. Therese Fuhrer, ed., Rom und Mailand in der Spätantike: Repräsentationen städtischer Räume in Literatur, Architektur und Kunst (Boston, 2012), reviewed by Lucy Grig, CHR, 99 (2013), 327–28. 204. Erika T. Hermanowicz, Possidius of Calama: A Study of the North African Episcopate at the Time of Augustine (Oxford and New York, 2008). In rural areas where bishops were scarce, priests might assume some of their functions and power: see Jean-Anatole Sabw Kanyang, Episcopus et plebs: L’évêque et la communauté ecclésiale dans le conciles Africans (345– 525) (Bern, 2000), reviewed by Jane E. Merdinger, CHR, 91 (2005), 777–79; Robert Godding, Prêtres en Gaule mérovingienne (Brussels, 2001), reviewed by William E. Klingshirn, CHR, 90, (2004), 742–43. 205. Andrea Sterk, Renouncing the World Yet Leading the Church: The Monk-Bishop in Late Antiquity (Cambridge, MA, 2004). 206. Uhalde, Expectations of Justice, reviewed by O’Donnell, CHR, 95 (2009), 106–07. ELIZABETH A. CLARK 65 expanded role as legal arbiters as authorized by Constantine in 333 or earlier (in the so-called audientia episcopalis),207 served their communities while enhancing their own reputations. Important translations and studies of Roman law codes, with their attention to religion and to bishops in particular, spurred this field.208 For example, book XVI of the Theodosian Code (dealing with matters religious) formed the topic for a conference at Lyon in 2003 and resulted in a volume of essays from that conference, reviewed in the CHR.209 Recently, Caroline Humfress’s Orthodoxy and the Courts in Late Antiquity (2007), reviewed in the CHR by Kevin Uhalde, details the “forensic turn” of the fourth century, namely, the Church’s turn from philosophical argument to forensic debate. Church officials owed much to forensic training.210 Rhetoric, as suggested above, was an important means to episcopal power,211 a point underscored in Peter Brown’s Power and Persuasion in Late Antiquity: Towards a Christian Empire (1992), Averil Cameron’s Christianity and the Rhetoric of Empire: The Development of Christian Discourse (1991), and Richard Lim’s Public Disputation, Power and Social Order in Late Antiquity (1995). In Cameron’s important book, an analysis of “discourse” includes relations of power. The Christian homily, Cameron wrote, served as the counterpart to the epideictic oratory of this period. By employing traditional oratorical techniques, Christian bishops and others 207. Constantine’s ruling that bishops might serve as arbiters in lawsuits increased their influence but also their workloads, as we infer from Augustine’s weary comments. See Uhalde, Expectations of Justice, reviewed by O’Donnell, CHR, 95 (2009), 106–07. Also see Cecilia Natalini, Per la storia del foro privilegiato dei deboli nell’ esperienza giuridica altomedioevale dal tardo antico a Carlo Magno (Bologna, 2008), reviewed by James A. Brundage, CHR, 96 (2010), 509–10. 208. Clyde Pharr et al., The Theodosian Code and Novels and the Sirmondian Constitutions (Princeton, 1952), reviewed by Charles P. Loughran, CHR, 38 (1953), 441–42. Now see John Matthews, Laying Down the Law: A Study of the Theodosian Code (New Haven, 2000). Also see Jean Gaudemet, L’Eglise dans l’Empire romain (IVe–Ve siècles) (Paris, 1958), reviewed by Martin R. P. McGuire, CHR, 48 (1962), 219–20; Jean Gaudemet, La formation du droit séculier et du droit de l’Eglise aux IVe et Ve siècles, 2nd ed. (Paris, 1979), reviewed by John E. Lynch, CHR, 68 (1982), 84–85; Périclès-Pierre Joannou, Le Législation Impériale et la Christianisation de l’Empire Romain (311–475) (Rome, 1972), reviewed by Bernard F. Deutsch, CHR, 60 (1974), 463–64. 209. The conference volume is Empire Chrétien et Eglise aux IVe et Ve Siècles: Integration ou “Concordat”? Le Témoignage du Code Théodosien (Paris, 2008), reviewed by Robert Malcolm Errington, CHR, 96 (2010), 93–94. 210. Caroline Humfress, Orthodoxy and the Courts in Late Antiquity (New York, 2007), reviewed by Kevin Uhalde, CHR, 94 (2008), 775–76. 211. An early example: Rosemary Radford Reuther, Gregory of Nazianzus: Rhetor and Philosopher (New York, 1969), reviewed by Hermigild Dressler, CHR, 57 (1971), 464–66. 66 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY “confirmed the new Christian orientation without denying continuity with its past.”212 Given the flourishing of asceticism and monasticism in the fourth century and later, conflicts between bishops and monastic leaders seemed inevitable—and in these, Philip Rousseau argues, “texts were among their weapons.”213 In his Ascetics, Authority, and the Church in the Age of Jerome and Cassian, Rousseau explored the relations between monks (with charismatic authority) and bishops (with institutional authority).214 Bishops also sometimes struggled to maintain their power against the growing popularity of martyrs and saints. Among their tactics, according to reviewer Raymond Van Dam: claiming themselves as martyrs or as holding the same power as martyrs and saints; positioning themselves in relation to famous desert ascetics; and rewriting history so as to bring themselves into relation with earlier saints.215 8. Syria and Eastern Christianity In addition to Syrian Christianity’s place in discussions of asceticism, scholars of Syrian Christianity in recent years have focused on the distinctive ways in which authors writing in Syriac interpreted the Bible to advance their claims. Here the well-established series Orientalia Christiana Analecta of the Pontifical Institute of Oriental Studies, the Gorgias Press in the United States, specialized presses in Europe (especially Peeters Press), and a new (1998) journal Hugoye: Journal of Syriac Studies have published many works of translation and commentary. (Those lacking adequate language skills, however, were warned off such topics by reviewers in the CHR.)216 The local varieties of Christianity that flourished in the East from Nubia through ancient Georgia also have recently garnered more 212. Averil Cameron, Christianity and the Rhetoric of Empire: The Development of Christian Discourse (Berkeley, 1991), reviewed by Robert D. Sider, CHR, 78 (1992), 435–36. 213. Rousseau, “Ascetics as Mediators and Teachers,” p. 53. 214. Philip Rousseau, Ascetics, Authority, and the Church in the Age of Jerome and Cassian (New York, 1978), reviewed by John Eudes Bamberger, CHR, 66 (1980), 584–85. Also see: George E. Demacopoulos, Five Models of Spiritual Direction in the Early Church (Notre Dame, 2007), reviewed by Andrea Sterk, CHR, 94 (2008), 538–40; Conrad Leyser, Authority and Asceticism from Augustine to Gregory the Great (Oxford and New York, 2000). 215. Various essays in Saintly Bishops and Bishops’ Saints, ed. John S. Ott and Trpimir Vedrig (Zagreb, 2012), reviewed by Raymond Van Dam, CHR, 100 (2014), 111–12. 216. Sidney H. Griffith, reviewing W. Stewart McCullough, A Short History of Syriac Christianity to the Rise of Islam (Chico, CA, 1982), CHR, 71 (1985), 453–54, and reviewing D. S. Wallace-Hadrill, Christian Antioch: A Study of Early Christian Thought in the East (New York, 1983), CHR, 75 (1989), 123–24 (badly out-of-date sources). ELIZABETH A. CLARK 67 attention, although not many of these works have been highlighted in the CHR. Given Catholic University’s known distinction in this area of research—its Institute of Christian Oriental Research and its excellent library collections—it is somewhat surprising that this area of scholarship has not been well covered by the CHR. 9. Augustine A most important bishop, Augustine, remained of perennial interest. Discoveries of previously unknown collections of Augustine’s letters and sermons spurred interest in the social and religious worlds in which he operated (Johannes Divjak, letters;217 François Dolbeau, sermons218). Augustine as philosopher219 now shared space with Augustine as student and exegete of the Bible from the mid-390s onward, especially of Paul’s Epistles.220 Scholars largely abandoned the attempt to harmonize Augustine’s early philosophical writings with later works, including the Confessions of the late 390s.221 As noted above, Henri-Irénée Marrou’s “Retractatio” of 1949 led to a new appreciation of Augustine as a writer. (Marrou chastised himself for earlier reproaching Augustine for ignorance of composition: that reproach, he admitted, is like charging Picasso or Braque with not knowing how to draw a guitar according to the laws of perspective.222) The Confessions was a favored topic. Pierre Courcelle’s study of that text, and James O’Don217. Sancti Aureli Augustini opera: Epistolae ex duobus codicibus nuper in lucem prolatae, ed. Johannes Divjak, [Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum 88], (Vienna, 1981). 218. François Dolbeau, Vingt-six sermons au peuple d’Afrique (Paris, 1996); English translation: Newly Discovered Sermons, trans. Edmund Hill, The Works of Augustine, Pt. III, Vol. 11 (Hyde Park, NY, 1997). 219. Alfred Warren Matthews, The Development of St. Augustine from Neo-Platonism to Christianity, 386–391, A.D., reviewed by George P. Lawless, CHR, 68 (1982), 90–91; also see an important (unnamed) essay by Goulven Madec in L’opera letteraria di Agostino tra Cassiciacum e Milano: Agostino nelle terre di Ambrogio (1–4 Ottobre 1986), ed. Luigi Franco Pizzolato et al. (Palermo, 1987), reviewed by Georges Folliet, CHR, 75 (1989), 472–73. 220. Of importance: Paula Fredriksen, Augustine on Romans: Propositions from the Epistle to the Romans and Unfinished Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans (Chico, CA, 1982); R. A. Markus, Sacred and Secular Studies on Augustine and Latin Christianity (Brookfield, VT, 1994), reviewed by Robert B. Eno, CHR, 83 (1997), 168. 221. An older example: Patrick J. Healy, reviewing W. J. Sparrow Simpson, St. Augustine’s Conversion: An Outline to the Time of His Ordination (New York, 1930), CHR, 17 (1932), 204–05. 222. Marrou, “Retractatio,” p. 665. Also see Madec’s essay in L’opera letteraria di Agostino, reviewed by Folliet, CHR, 75 (1989), 472–73. 68 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY nell’s three-volume commentary later offered new resources for study.223 The question of whether Confessions I–IX gave “a true historical account of Augustine’s conversion”224 was modified by Paula Fredriksen’s claim that Augustine had created a “retrospective self.”225 In the second part of the twentieth century, Confessions was mined for material to advance psychological approaches.226 Peter Brown’s enormously popular Augustine of Hippo (1967) detailed Augustine’s life—although the CHR reviewer, while conceding Brown’s “solid and meticulous historical scholarship,” apparently would have preferred a more “orthodox” Augustine.227 Later, biographers turned an eye to Augustine as a bishop who used his authority to suppress Donatists and Pelagians. James O’Donnell’s Augustine: A New Biography (2005), styled by reviewer Brent Shaw as “an Augustine for the threshold of the twenty-first century,” deconstructs more romanticized assessments of Augustine, including those fostered by the bishop himself. For example, the bishop misleads readers into thinking his period as a Manichean was shorter than seems to have been the case.228 Manicheanism—of which the young Augustine was an adherent— became a subject of great interest with the discovery of new materials throughout the twentieth century. The publication of Manichaean texts in a variety of ancient and Eastern languages (including the Cologne Mani Codex, which recounts Mani’s early life and religious views) spurred other work.229 Our knowledge of Manicheanism in Roman North Africa comes 223. Pierre Courcelle, Recherches sur les “Confessions” de Saint Augustin (Paris, 1950); James J. O’Donnell, Augustine, Confessions, 3 vols. (Oxford and New York, 1992). 224. Carole Straw, reviewing Colin Starnes, Augustine’s Conversion: A Guide to the Argument of “Confessions” I–IX (Waterloo, Canada, 1991), CHR, 78 (1992), 101–02, here 101. 225. Paula Fredriksen, “Paul and Augustine: Conversion Narratives, Orthodox Traditions, and the Retrospective Self,” Journal of Theological Studies, 37 (1986), 3–34. 226. E.g., Romano Guardini, The Conversion of Augustine, trans. Elinor Briefs, reviewed by Paul J. Knapke, CHR, 47 (1961), 30–31; Margaret R. Miles, Desire and Delight: A New Reading of Augustine’s Confessions (New York, 1992), reviewed by Robert B. Eno, CHR, 79 (1993), 312–13. 227. Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo: A Biography (London, 1967), reviewed by Robert Russell, CHR, 56 (1970), 331–33. 228. James J. O’Donnell, Augustine: A New Biography (New York, 2005), reviewed by Brent Shaw, CHR, 93 (2007), 132–33. The Augustine of O’Donnell comes off less well than he does in Van der Meer’s Augustine the Bishop, reviewed by Musurillo, CHR, 50 (1965), 537–39, who praised the book for its extensive use of archaeology. 229. The Cologne Mani Codex (P. Colon. Inv. nr. 4780): Concerning the Origin of His Body, trans. Ron Cameron and Arthur J. Dewey (Missoula, MT, 1979); earlier, the publica- ELIZABETH A. CLARK 69 largely from Augustine’s writings. On Augustine’s eleven-year association with Manicheanism, we now have Jason BeDuhn’s important volumes.230 Reviewer Roland Teske claimed that BeDuhn’s Augustine’s Manichean Dilemma I “for the first time made Augustine’s conversion to the Manichaean religion and his remaining in it for so long intelligible.” Throughout, BeDuhn stresses that Augustine’s conversion to Christianity involved a lengthy process; not until he wrote Confessions more than a decade later had Augustine’s self-fashioning achieved the status of true Catholic Christianity.231 And BeDuhn’s second volume, Making a “Catholic” Self, convincingly displays the strong influence Manicheanism exerted on Augustine in his formative years as a Christian, highlighting Augustine’s reading of Paul as he confronted the Manichean claim on that Apostle. Many North African bishops would always consider (and sometimes critique) Augustine as a convert from Manicheanism. Other aspects of Augustine’s writings received critical attention as well. On Augustine’s philosophy of history, the CHR reviewer of G. L. Keyes’s book on the subject cited Keyes as claiming that Augustine’s philosophy of history was “fatal to historical studies as pursued by men of open mind.”232 Robert Markus’s Saeculum, a landmark study of The City of God, detailed Augustine’s political philosophy and changing attitude toward tion of A Manichaean Psalm-Book, Part II, ed. C. R. C. Allberry (Stuttgart, 1938). For a brief review of this growing literature, see Samuel N. C. Lieu, “Manichaeism,” in Oxford Handbook of Early Christian Studies, ed. Harvey and Hunter, pp. 221–36. See Lieu’s detailed books Manichaeism in the Later Roman Empire and Medieval China (Manchester, UK, and Dover, NH, 1985; 2nd ed., Tübingen, 1992), and Manichaeism in Mesopotamia and the Roman East (Leiden and New York, 1994). 230. Jason David BeDuhn, The Manichaean Body in Discipline and Ritual (Baltimore, 2000), reviewed by Samuel N. C. Lieu, CHR, 88 (2002), 564–67; Augustine’s Manichaean Dilemma I: Conversion and Apostasy, 373–388 (Philadelphia, 2010), reviewed by Roland J. Teske, CHR, 97 (2011), 112–13; Augustine’s Manichaean Dilemma, vol. 2, Making a “Catholic” Self, 388–401 C.E. (Philadelphia, 2013), reviewed by Roland Teske, CHR, 100 (2014), 324– 25. Also see: John Kevin Coyle, ed., “De moribus ecclesiae catholicae et de moribus Manichaeorum” “De quantitate animae” di Agostino d’Ipona (Palermo, 1991), reviewed by Robert B. Eno, CHR, 78 (1992), 268–69. 231. Teske on BeDuhn, Augustine’s Manichaean Dilemma I, in CHR, 97 (2011), 112– 13. Teske has translated some of the anti-Manichean treatises of Augustine not previously translated into English before: The Works of Saint Augustine: A Translation for the 21st Century, part I, vol. 19, The Manichean Debate (Hyde Park, NY, 2006), reviewed by J. Kevin Coyle, CHR, 93 (2007), 608–09. 232. Robert P. Russell, reviewing G. L. Keyes, Christian Faith and the Interpretation of History: A Study of St. Augustine’s Philosophy of History (Lincoln, NE, 1966), CHR, 54 (1969), 661–62, citing Keyes, p. 194. 70 FROM PATRISTICS TO LATE ANTIQUITY religious tolerance and coercion.233 Here Augustine’s dealings with Donatists were key. Earlier, W. H. C. Frend’s Donatist Church: A Movement of Protest in Roman North Africa (1952) had signaled a turn to a social and economic interpretation of Donatists and Catholics in that region.234 Frend posited a social and economic dichotomy between Catholic, Romanized, Latin-speaking inhabitants of the coastal area and the Donatist, less Romanized, Berber- or Punic-speaking natives of the hinterlands. He also gave an economic interpretation to the “fringe” movement of Donatism, the Circumcellions, whom he pictured as religious fanatics, as “terrorist” peasants who combined devotion to the martyrs (and themselves espoused martyrdom) with a campaign against economic grievances. As noted above, Joseph P. Christopher’s review in the CHR does scant justice to Frend’s important work and controversial theses.235 In the 1970s, essays by Peter Brown and a book by Emilien Lamirande explored how Augustine came to accept coercion as a strategy against Donatism: Lamirande cautioned against optimism regarding Augustine’s position in relation to those outside the Catholic Church.236 Commentators continued to debate whether Donatism should be seen primarily as a social or an ecclesiastical phenomenon.237 Pelagians were another set of opponents who would haunt Augustine for the last fifteen or more years of his life. The social networks through which Pelagians and Augustine operated and the dealings of Pelagius, Augustine, and their respective supporters with bishops of Rome and emperors were the subjects of scrutiny.238 Josef Lössl’s Julian von Aeclanum (2001), reviewed in the CHR, corrected some details in Augustine’s strug- 233. R. A. Markus, Saeculum: History and Society in the Theology of St. Augustine (New York, 1970), reviewed by Robert P. Russell, CHR, 57 (1971), 466–67. 234. Frend, Donatist Church, reviewed by Christopher, CHR, 39 (1953), 308–09. The book’s attention to archaeology in Roman North Africa was often praised in reviews. 235. See note 46. 236. Brown, Religion and Society, reviewed by Adams, CHR, 61 (1975), 627–28; Lamirande, La Situation ecclésiastique, reviewed by Adams, CHR, 60 (1974), 462–63. 237. Barnes, reviewing Kriegbaum, Kirche der Traditoren oder Kirche der Martyrer?, and J.-L. Maier, Dossier de Donatisme, in CHR, 77 (1991), 95–96. Also see Emin Tengström, Donatisten und Katholiken: Soziale, wirtschaftliche und politische Aspekte einer nordafrikanischen Kirchenspaltung (Göteborg, 1964); Miscellanea Historiae Ecclesiasticae VI: Congrès de Varsovie, 25 Juin-1er Juillet 1978. Section I: Les Transformations dans la Société Chrétienne au IVe siècle, reviewed by Frances M. Young, CHR, 71 (1985), 454–55. 238. See essays in Brown, Religion and Society, reviewed by Adams, CHR, 61 (1975), 627–28; and Otto Wermelinger, Rom und Pelagius: Die theologische Position der römischen Bischöfe im pelagianischen Streit in den Jahren 411–432 (Stuttgart, 1975). ELIZABETH A. CLARK 71 gle against that sharp-eyed Pelagian bishop over the topic of original sin.239 On the latter issue, Pier Franco Beatrice traced the doctrine to “heretical” views of earlier times.240 Conclusion The historiography of early Christianity, as is evident from the above survey, has taken quite different turns since the founding of The Catholic Historical Review. Pinpointing trends in historiography from book reviews alone, however, is a difficult task. Some aspects of recent historiographical changes (e.g., scholarship on ancient Eastern Christianity) have not yet commanded a large place in the CHR’s book review section, and, in times past, other topics (e.g., women in early Christianity) received less attention than deserved. A more proactive approach to attracting articles on late ancient Christianity would be needed to correct the lack. As those who have edited journals know, a vicious circle develops: if no essays in a particular subfield appear in a journal, scholars in that area are reluctant to submit their work, thus exacerbating the problem of having “no articles.” The journal Church History, for example, similar to the CHR in its coverage, has recently made a concerted effort to encourage essays on ancient Christianity. Although Church History, like the CHR, focuses heavily on American Christianity, at least one or two excellent essays on ancient Christianity are published each year. In the CHR, by contrast, only three essays on ancient Christianity before the year 600 were published in the entire decade of the 1990s.241 To end on an encouraging note, however, may the next 100 years see a flowering of scholarship in all subfields at The Catholic Historical Review. There are many resources at The Catholic University of America on which the editors can draw. 239. Josef Lössl, Julian von Aeclanum: Studien zu seinem Leben, seinem Werk, seiner Lehre und ihre Überlieferung (Leiden, 2001), reviewed by Eugene TeSelle, CHR, 90 (2004), 739–40. 240. Pier Franco Beatrice, The Transmission of Sin: Augustine and the Pre-Augustinian Sources, trans. Adam Kamesar (New York, 2013; Italian original [Tradux Peccati], 1978), reviewed by Allan Fitzgerald, CHR, 100 (2014), 105–06. Fitzgerald faults Beatrice’s selective use of sources and lack of updating since the book’s first publication. 241. Those by Joseph Alchermes, Caroline Walker Bynum, and Charles Odahl: see notes 13, 148, and 131 for bibliographical information. Patron-Client Relations and Ecclesiastical Careers: Securing a Place in a Portuguese Cathedral (1564–1640) HUGO RIBEIRO DA SILVA* In this study on the role of patronage in ecclesiastical careers, the central role of Rome in the distribution of benefices in Portuguese cathedrals is highlighted. Kings, bishops, and others used canonries as payment for services rendered. Although the virtues of the applicants for canonries were important, patronage ties could override personal qualifications. There also were alternative routes to obtaining an office in a cathedral that circumvented the power of the appointment holders, which allowed some to overcome possibly weaker patronage ties. Keywords: patronage; ecclesiastical careers; cathedral clergy; Portugal D uring the early-modern era, ties developed through friendship and patronage were more fluid than those of kinship and proved to be equally important. The alliances of the most powerful families were extended through the friendships that their members forged when they attended colleges and universities; pursued bureaucratic, military, and ecclesiastical careers; or engaged in business.1 These friendships reached beyond the family circle and facilitated the exchange of services, thus becoming an essential element of power and influence. In recent years, the analysis of these relationships has focused on the study of the so-called elites and the importance of their networks of power *Dr. Silva is a Fundação para a Ciêncía e a Tecnología (FCT) postdoctoral fellow and a researcher in the Centro de Estudos de História Religiosa, Universidade Católica Portuguesa (UCP), and Centro de História d’Aquém e d’Além-Mar (CHAM) at the Universidade Nova de Lisboa/Universidade dos Açores (UNL/UAç) in Portugal, email: hribeirodasilva@ hotmail.com. This article is a revised version of chapter 5 of the author’s PhD thesis, “O clero catedralício português e os equilíbrios sociais do poder (1564–1670)” (Florence, 2010). Unless otherwise noted, the author has provided the translations in this article. 1. Gunner Lind, “Great Friends and Small Friends,” in Power Elites and State Building, ed. Wolfgang Reinhard (Oxford, 1996), pp. 123–48. 28 HUGO RIBEIRO DA SILVA 29 to the political configuration.2 However, the sphere of the church, in particular the Catholic Church, has not received great attention. There are very few studies that explain the importance of patronage mechanisms in ecclesiastical careers. Barbara Hallman and Wolfang Reinhard, who studied the papacy in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and paid particular attention to nepotism, emerged as a rare exception.3 Renata Ago has also stressed the importance of family in the careers of cardinals.4 More recently, Maria Antonietta Visceglia highlighted the role of friendship as a central element of power relations in the papal curia since it simultaneously created dependency and loyalty.5 Although important, these studies only look at the papal court. Yet the works of Joseph Bergin and José Pedro Paiva focused attention on the procedure for appointment of bishops, stressing the prominent role of patronage and kinship ties in obtaining such appointments in France and Portugal.6 Nevertheless, little is known about ecclesiastical careers at the local level. For example, regardless of the importance of cathedral chapters in diocesan governance, little attention has been paid to the institutional framework that affected access to the canonries, and little analysis exists of 2. The bibliography is extensive. See, for example, Sharon Kettering, Patrons, Brokers, and Clients in Seventeenth-Century France (New York, 1986); Christian Windler, Élites locales, señores, reformistas: redes clientelares y monarquía hacia finales del antiguo regimen (Seville, 1997); Sharon Kettering, “Patronage in Early Modern France,” French Historical Studies, 17 (1992), 839–62; Charles Giry-Deloison and Roger Mettam, eds., Patronages et clientélismes, 1550– 1750: France, Angleterre, Espagne, Italie (Villeneuve d’Ascq, 1995); and Bartolomé Yun Casalilla, ed., Las redes del Imperio. Elites sociales en la articulación del imperio español, 1492– 1714 (Madrid, 2008). 3. Barbara McClung Hallman, Italian Cardinals, Reform, and the Church as Property (Berkeley, 1985); Wolfgang Reinhard, “Papal Power and Family Strategy in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries,” in Princes, Patronage, and the Nobility: The Court at the Beginning of the Modern Age, c. 1450–1650, ed. Ronald Asch and Adolf Birke (Oxford, 1991), pp. 329– 56; Wolfgang Reinhard, Papauté, confessions, modernité (Paris, 1998); Wolfgang Reinhard, “Amici e creature. Micropolitica della curia romana nel XVII secolo,” Dimensioni e problemi della ricerca storica, 2 (2001), 59–78. 4. Renata Ago, Carriere e clientele nella Roma barocca (Rome, 1990). 5. Maria Antonietta Visceglia, “Fazioni e lotta politica nel Sacro Collegio nella prima metà del Seicento,” in La corte di Roma tra cinque e seicento [Teatro della politica europea], ed. Gianvittorio Signorotto and Maria Antonietta Visceglia (Rome, 1998), pp. 37–91. 6. Joseph Bergin, “Kings, Patrons and Bishops: The French Church under Henri IV and Louis XIII,” in Patronages et clientélismes, ed. Giry-Deloison and Mettam, pp. 167–78; Joseph Bergin, The Making of the French Episcopate, 1589–1661 (New Haven, 1996); José Pedro Paiva, Os Bispos de Portugal e do Império (1495–1777) (Coimbra, 2006), and José Pedro Paiva, “The Appointment of Bishops in Early-Modern Portugal (1495–1777),” The Catholic Historical Review, 97 (2011), 461–83. 30 PATRON-CLIENT RELATIONS AND ECCLESIASTICAL CAREERS the connections among family and dependents that greatly assisted in obtaining these prestigious and desired posts.7 This article identifies and examines the networks that were activated and the actors who emerged as protagonists during the process of obtaining a post in a cathedral chapter. It shows that kinship and clientele were important not only to those who wished to gain admission to the institution but also to those who acted as brokers between the candidate and the patron. At the same time, contrary to the procedure for appointment to episcopal seats, alternative means of access circumvented the power of the appointment holders. A Culture of “Service” and “Merit” As the nexus of each diocese, the cathedral was the episcopal seat as well as the home of the cathedral chapter. However, even bishops who had served a long time in their diocese might find the influence of the chapter, as an institution, to be considerable, as it represented the historical continuity of the cathedral and served as the main guardian of its memory. Because the main function of the cathedral’s clergy is liturgical, the celebrations taking place in the cathedral needed to be performed with special care and rigor to serve as a model for the rest of the diocese.8 The significant power of the chapter emerged when the sede vacante (vacant see) was declared, which began with a bishop’s death or transfer to another diocese and ended with the arrival of a new bishop. In such periods the cathedral chapters ruled the diocese, appointing all officials in the diocesan administration and thus representing the greatest expression of the canons’ authority. Another duty of the chapter was economic administration so that healthy incomes were ensured—a goal that mattered to all chapter members.9 The number of ecclesiastics in a chapter depended on the size of the diocese and the level of revenue. These members of the clergy were organ7. For Spain, Irigoyen López studied the clergy, particularly the cathedral clergy, in the context of the history of family and social networks. See Antonio Irigoyen López, Entre el cielo y la tierra, entre la familia y la institución: el Cabildo de la Catedral de Murcia en el siglo XVII (Murcia, 2001); and Antonio Irigoyen López, “Clero secular, familia y movilidad social: actores y directores (Múrcia, Siglo XVII),” in Familias, poderosos y oligarquías, ed. Francisco Chacón Jiménez and Juan Hernández Franco (Murcia, 2001), pp. 131–52. 8. Sara T. Nalle, God in La Mancha: Religious Reform and the People of Cuenca, 1500– 1650 (Baltimore, 1992), pp. 74–75. 9. Hugo Ribeiro da Silva, O Cabido da Sé de Coimbra. Os Homens e a Instituição (1620– 1670) (Lisbon, 2010), pp. 107–26. HUGO RIBEIRO DA SILVA 31 ized into three main groups: dignitaries, canons, and porcionários.10 The dignitaries could include the dean, who presided over the chapter; the chanter, who was responsible for the choir; the treasurer, who supervised the maintenance of the cathedral; the schoolmaster, who directed teaching activities; and one or more archdeacons. Some of the canons had specific functions: doutoral (doctoral), reserved for graduates in canon law; magistral, who were theologians; and penitenciário, the confessor of the cathedral, who was expected to have earned a degree in theology. Although the porcionários were members of the chapter, they only received a “portion” (up to a half) of a prebend. Unlike dignitaries and canons, they could not attend the chapter meetings and thus were unable to participate in the administration of the institution.11 Unlike the nomination of bishops, the appointment to a benefice in the cathedrals lay with various individuals or institutions: the Holy See, the bishop, the cathedral chapter, the University of Coimbra, the king. This had consequences in the composition of each chapter, since within the group there were members dependent on outside connections to varying degrees. In general, if a vacancy occurred in January, February, April, May, July, August, October, or November, the Holy See held the election. If it occurred in March, June, September, or December, the appointment and provision lay with the bishop or with the chapter.12 The Holy See therefore had more chances to choose and appoint the officers to the cathedral benefices. However, in the sixteenth century the Portuguese Crown won the right to fill some vacant canonries. Even the University of Coimbra joined in, since the king assigned it the privilege of determining the appointment procedures for doutoral and magistral canonries, which had become subject to royal appointment.13 A prebend in a cathedral had become a way for the monarch to reward particular individuals or their family members for services rendered. In the context of the “distributive justice” to which the king was bound, “though homage was due to him for free, service is only given for reward [. . .] there is no human love except for interest.”14 That is, the rendering of services 10. Silva, O Cabido, pp. 27–36; Philippe Loupès, Chapitres et chanoines de Guyenne aux XVII et XVIII siècles (Paris, 1980), pp. 163–65. 11. Idem. 12. Fortunato de Almeida, História da Igreja em Portugal (Porto, 1968), 2:57–58. 13. Silva, O Cabido, pp. 90–91. 14. Antonio de Sousa Macedo, Armonia política (Haga do Conde, 1651), pp. 98–102: “ainda que o obsequio se lhe deva de graça, o serviço não se provoca, senão com prémios . . . 32 PATRON-CLIENT RELATIONS AND ECCLESIASTICAL CAREERS generally involved expectations of reward and was not done out of pure love for the king. Serving the Crown for the purpose of rewards became almost a way of life, becoming a strategy for material survival, honorific recognition, and promotion.15 Although one writer warned that if “there is more remembrance of the merits of the fathers than the talents and qualities of the candidates, God will have to take into account the government of His Church and rule it through miracle,” it is certain that the ecclesiastic benefices were among the resources at the disposal of the monarch to carry out his distributive justice.16 Not surprisingly, the king’s nominees to a canonry included those who were, or would be, in his service, particularly officials in the royal courts, the Inquisition, or other offices of the Crown. Because the canonries of royal patronage were not always sufficient for individuals, or they did not cover the most desirable places or dioceses, the monarchs tried to secure additional canonries from the pope. For example, Philip II asked Rome for a canonry in Évora for Francisco de Lima, his sumilher da cortina.17 The king had no problem with rejecting the pontiff’s choice for an appointment, sometimes naming his own candidate. In 1595 the king and the bishop of Coimbra joined forces to oppose Rome’s appointment to the deanery of that see, instead recommending the auditor (judge) of the legatine court, Pedro de Olivenza. The vice-legate stressed the judge’s qualities and his existing responsibilities in the Inquisition and the legatine court.18 The king had to be aware that, when he assigned a “favor” such as an ecclesiastic benefice, he was giving priority to those who had served longest não há amor humano senão por interesse.” For the idea of “distributive justice,” see Beatriz Carceles de Gea, “La justicia distributiva en el siglo XVII (aproximación político-constitucional),” Chronica Nova: revista de historia moderna de la Universidad de Granada, 14 (1984–85), 93–122. 15. Fernanda Olival, As Ordens Militares e o Estado Moderno. Honra, mercê e venalidade em Portugal (1641–1789) (Lisbon, 2001), pp. 19–25. 16. António Carvalho de Parada, Arte de Reynar (Bucelas, 1644), fol. 156v: “se ouver mais lembrança dos merecimentos dos pays, que dos talentos e partes dos que se devem eleger, será necessário tomar Deos a sua conta o governo de sua Igreja pêra a governar por milagre.” 17. Sumilher da cortina was the chaplain who drew the curtains of the king’s tribune at the royal chapel during holy office. Simancas, Archivo General de Simancas, Secretarias Provinciales, Portugal (hereafter AGS), lb. 1549, fols. 161r–162v (October 6, 1585). 18. Vatican City, Archivio Segreto Vaticano (hereafter ASV), Segr. Stato, Portogallo, lv. 10, fol. 217r (September 30, 1595). HUGO RIBEIRO DA SILVA 33 or to whom he was already committed.19 Therefore, advisers reminded Philip III in 1602 that he should appoint João Gomes Vilhegas for all that he was told that your Majesty would favor him on the first occasion, considering the proper procedure he had to drop the right to claim the comenda of Santa Maria de Beja, that your Majesty has bestowed on Rui Barreto.20 In the process of considering a candidate for a seat in a cathedral chapter, the king not only had to take into account the person’s personal qualities and potential or actual services to the Crown but also the merits of the candidate’s father or other close relative, perhaps to an even greater extent. The prospective appointee was regarded not as a unique individual but as one element of a larger family. To favor the son was also to favor the father. More important, the merits of one member of the family were the merits of the whole family. Extended families accrued the material, cultural, relational, and symbolic capital of their members, from the earliest years of their lineage to the present. Regarding João de Lencastre, for whom his father, the Grand Commander of the Order of Christ, sought a canonry in Évora, the apostolic collector in Lisbon stressed that this was one of the leading families of the kingdom, related to the duke of Bragança; further, the father was a godly man, a devout Christian, and friend of the ministers of the Apostolic See, worthy of any grace and favor.21 A wide array of royal service was rewarded. First in line were those who worked at the palace, such as João de Melo, head doorkeeper of Philip II; his son received an archdeaconry in the cathedral of Braga from the king.22 Those at the highest level in government also were rewarded. Francisco Nogueira, whose father served in Madrid on the Council of Portugal, was appointed by Philip III to a canonry in Elvas that was of royal padroado (royal appointment).23 Holders of military offices throughout the empire were very important. These were subjects whose loyalty to the king was essential for the 19. Macedo, Armonia política, pp. 95–98. 20. AGS, lb. 1480, fol. 418r (October 14, 1602): “por quoanto se lhe tem dito que Vossa Magestade lhe faria mercê na primeira occasião, por o bom procedimento que teve em largar o dereito que podia pretender na comenda de Santa Maria de Beja, de que Vossa Magestade proveo a Ruy Barreto.” Comenda was an ecclesiastic benefice that was given to the knights of military orders. 21. ASV, Segr. Stato, Portogallo, lv. 11, fol. 98r (May 24, 1597). 22. AGS, lb. 1549, fol. 594r (September 5, 1588). 23. AGS, lb. 1481, fol. 412r (July 8, 1611). 34 PATRON-CLIENT RELATIONS AND ECCLESIASTICAL CAREERS proper performance of their official duties. Perhaps that may explain why Philip III wrote to support an archdeaconry appointment in Évora for a son of Nuno de Mendonça, captain of Tangier.24 Military “merits” would have had enhanced importance during political disruptions, such as those that occurred in 1580 and 1640, and underscored the tangible value of loyalty.25 In these circumstances when political loyalties were tested, monarchs rewarded those who followed them. It is not by chance that Lourenço Mourão asked for the king’s help as he sought to secure the deanery of Coimbra in 1595, following the death of dean Antonio Toscano. Mourão argued that it should be given to “someone who knows how to defend your Majesty,” noting that Baltazar Limpo, the dean who preceded Toscano, had been deprived of that benefice because he “foolishly” followed the party of Dom Antonio in 1580.26 In an earlier case that reflects similar thinking, Philip II sought to block the pope from allowing Antonio Baracho to become coadjutor of Toscano, because it was asserted that “his parents and relatives had been against the service of your Majesty in the past turmoil of the Kingdom.”27 However, the cardinal of the Apostolic Datary downplayed objections of a political nature: “what else is claimed against this man not to be trusted in the service of your Majesty; His Holiness replied that little trust or dissent would make a poor clergyman to so powerful a king.”28 However, Francisco Vaz Pinto, agent of the king in Rome, challenged the argument that the clergy did not represent a danger to the king, noting that the previous dean had been deeply involved in the rebellion that occurred in that city in 1580.29 24. Lisbon, Biblioteca da Ajuda, Manuscritos (hereafter BA), 51-VIII-13, fols. 307r– 309r (September 4, 1610). 25. In 1580 Philip II of Spain became king of Portugal. In 1640 a revolution ended Habsburg rule in Portugal, and John IV, of the house of Bragança, became king. 26. ASV, Segr. Stato, Portogallo, lv. 10, fol. 109r (June 3, 1595): “pessoa que saiba defender a razão de Sua Magestade.” In 1580, when the king-cardinal Henry died without leaving an heir, Dom Antonio, prior of Crato, was one of the claimants to the throne. However, Philip II of Castile was another claimant, and his army, under the duke of Alba, defeated Antonio’s troops in August 1580. Philip was confirmed as Portuguese king in April 1581, at the Cortes of Tomar. 27. AGS, lb. 1549, fols. 646r–646v (November 26, 1588): “seus pais e parentes haverem sido contra o serviço de Vossa Magestade nas alterações passadas do Reyno.” 28. Idem: “o que mais se allegara contra este homem de não ser confidente ao serviço de Sua Magestade Sua Santidade lhe respondera que pouqua confidencia nem diffidencia podia fazer hum pobre clerigo a hum Rey tam poderoso.” The Apostolic Datary was entrusted with the collation (appointment) of benefices reserved to the Holy See. For more information, see Niccolò Del Re, La Curia Romana: lineamenti storico-giuridici (Vatican City, 1998). 29. AGS, lb. 1549, fols. 656r–657v (December 22, 1588). HUGO RIBEIRO DA SILVA 35 In addition, bishops and popes felt obliged to reward services already performed or provide such forms of recompense to guarantee loyalty and future services. The ability to assign or secure benefices for their clients meant greater social prestige and power. The letter that Pedro de Castilho, bishop of Leiria (1583–1604), wrote to the king in 1603 again makes the stakes very clear in the competition for presenting benefices: the need and wish of the bishop to have ecclesiastical positions to distribute to the men of his “obligation.”30 In fact, it was common for prelates to nominate their own servants or chaplains for canonries or other ecclesiastical benefices. But since there was not always an opportunity to appoint at hand, they sought to obtain the office for one of their protégés from the Holy See. Such was the case with Jerónimo de Meneses, bishop of Porto (1592– 1600), who succeeded in obtaining a canonry in his cathedral for Vicente Camelo, his mordomo (steward), in 1595.31 When the filling of a vacant benefice lay with the Holy See, the final decision would rest with the cardinal in charge of the Datary, because the pope sought to disassociate himself from decisions that would displease the applicants or viewed the cardinal’s opinion as key in appointments.32 Clergymen who were serving the Church in Rome were in a privileged position, because of their proximity to or personal relationships with the cardinals and the pope. Domingos de Almeida knew this well, so on behalf of the bishop of Guarda, he wrote to his agent in Rome, Giovanni Battista Confalonieri, in 1604: “I believe it is a waste of time waiting to secure a benefice there for an absent person without the intervention of those who can do most.”33 During the rule of the Habsburgs in Portugal, the apostolic collector was an important intermediary between Lisbon and Rome when it came to obtaining ecclesiastical benefices, as the kingdom did not have a nuncio. Many people, including the king, nobles, and royal officials, asked the collector to write to Rome in the hope of greater success in obtaining a prebend for themselves or, more commonly, for a family member or protégé. The servants from the collecting office also sought to take advantage of their closeness to the center of power. Thus, for example, the collector 30. BA, 51-VIII-17, fol. 26r–26v (September 9, 1603). 31. ASV, Segr. Stato, Portogallo, lv. 10, fol. 101r (May 27, 1595). 32. AGS, lb. 1549, fols. 43r–43v, 46r–46v, 44r–44v (September 8, 1584). 33. ASV, Fondo Confalonieri, lv. 38, fol. 12r (January 22, 1604): “Quanto a mym é tempo perdido sperar alcançar la beneficio pêra absente se não for com intervenção dos que maes podem.” 36 PATRON-CLIENT RELATIONS AND ECCLESIASTICAL CAREERS wrote in 1598 to ask the pope to give to his auditor, Francisco Botelho, a canonry that was vacant in Coimbra.34 Since these were offices in the Church, influential in the process was the praise of the candidate, especially as offered by the collector; the defense of ecclesiastical jurisdiction by the candidate or other individual who asked for the benefice; and the devotion to the Apostolic See of the potential appointee. When a canonry in Leiria cathedral became vacant in 1593, the bishop requested it for Dinis Nogueira, who was already meio cónego (halfcanon).35 Pietro Aldobrandini, then collector in Lisbon, stressed the virtues of the candidate, but also noted the importance of pleasing the bishop of the diocese, Pedro de Castilho, who actually was asking for the “favor.” The collector felt that it was important to stay in the good graces of the bishop, since he was president of the Desembargo do Paço (Royal Court), which often dealt with sensitive questions about ecclesiastical jurisdiction.36 Often the position of the broker presenting the candidate had a significant effect on whether the papal favor would be achieved. A case in point is that of Manuel da Cunha, inquisitor of Lisbon and commissioner of the Bull of the Crusade. The inquisitor-general requested a canonry for him in 1632 in one of the main cathedrals of the kingdom.37 Considering the merits of the candidate and the inquisitor-general, the Holy See appointed da Cunha as the schoolmaster of Coimbra.38 His relationships at court were such that he was appointed three years later as the titular bishop of Elvas.39 Although some candidates appeared to possess the desired personal qualities for a position and influential backers, their claims were not always upheld, either by the Holy See or the monarch. Sometimes expectations faded at the stage of seeking the favor of someone. Even though Tomé Álvares was the king’s chaplain, he was superseded by Salvador de Mesquita, inquisitor in Évora. Both asked for the king to petition the pope 34. ASV, Segr. Stato, Portogallo, lv. 11, fol. 282r (March 23, 1598). 35. A “half-canon” received half of a prebend. 36. ASV, Segr. Stato, Portogallo, lv. 9, fol. 14 (April 4, 1593). 37. Bula da Cruzada was a papal document granting indulgences to the faithful who contributed with alms for the expansion of Catholicism. Initially it was used exclusively for carrying on the war against the “infidels,” but during the early-modern period it was mainly used in Portugal to support the military orders and the defense of the overseas territories. 38. ASV, Segr. Stato, Portogallo, lv. 21, fols. 131r–133v (May 31, 1632), lv. 22, fol. 29r (November 12, 1633) and fols. 53r–53v (March 4, 1634), lv. 155, fol. 1r (January 7, 1634). 39. For some aspects of Manuel da Cunha’s career, see Paiva, Os Bispos, pp. 189–90, 197–98, 203, 390, 426, 428. HUGO RIBEIRO DA SILVA 37 for a vacant benefice in Évora, but members of the General Council of the Holy Office intervened so that the king would act in favor of the inquisitor.40 A number of factors affected the decision. The existence of several claimants to a prebend required swift action. Despite letters of support issued by Philip III to a son of Nuno de Mendonça, who wanted a canonry in Évora, someone else obtained it first.41 A royal letter of support did not guarantee success. Those who served a certain patron could feel that the level of recompense was insufficient. António de Sousa Macedo wrote in 1651 that the distribution of prizes “must be done with care, because giving to one usually annoys many, either because they wanted what was given or because they feel that the other is preferred; and only justice in the distribution prevents or remedies this discontent.”42 Marcos Teixeira was one of the unhappy ones. He had been vicar of Cardinal Henry, when the cardinal was archbishop of Lisbon (1564–69). When the cardinal was chief inquisitor, he ordered Teixeira to visit all the Inquisition courts of the kingdom. Teixeira served for many years as judge of the apostolic legatine court in Lisbon, in the time of the CardinalArchduke Albert of Habsburg, who was papal legate in the kingdom. In 1598 he was a member of the General Council of the Holy Office. According to the vice-legate, he was a person held in great esteem; was a man noted for his kindness, integrity, and prudence; and was a defender of ecclesiastical jurisdiction. But in the late-sixteenth century, he was upset because many “inferior” to him in age, service, and merit superseded him and were appointed by royal decision to desirable benefices, canonries, and bishoprics. Thus the vice-legate felt it his duty to request a benefice for him, as much to encourage others in exemplary service to the Apostolic See. He suggested to the secretary of state in Rome that Teixeira receive a canonry in Évora, and even though the candidate was a bastard “everything is covered by his goodness and virtues.”43 This effort succeeded, and Teixeira was appointed in 1600 to an archdeaconry in Évora.44 40. AGS, lb. 1488, fol. 76v (July 6, 1604). 41. BA, 51-VIII-13, fols. 275r–277v (October 21, 1610). 42. Macedo, Armonia política, pp. 7–8: “deve aver advertência, porque ordinariamente não se dá a hum sem irritar a muitos, jà porque pretendiam o que vem dado, jà porque sentem que outro lhes seja preferido, e sò a justiça da distribuiçam atalha ou cura este descontentamento.” 43. ASV, Segr. Stato, Portogallo, lv. 11, fol. 271r (January 9, 1598): “tutto si copre con la bontá et virtu sue.” 44. Évora, Arquivo da Sé de Évora (hereafter referred to as ASE), Livro de posses do cabido, CEC 14-XII, fol. 72r (January 8, 1600). 38 PATRON-CLIENT RELATIONS AND ECCLESIASTICAL CAREERS Kinship and Family Ties The opportunities for achieving an office were not limited to the appointment by the Holy See, bishop, chapter, king, or university. In addition, the holder of the benefice could sometimes choose his successor. In other words, it was possible to negotiate the succession with the incumbent. A position as coadjutor (coadjutoria), resignation, and exchange were the alternative routes of access available to the aspirants to the cathedral chapters; these raised the likelihood of achieving the desired benefice, even if the permission of the entity that held the right of appointment of the benefice was required. Coadjutoria was the request made by a canon to the holder of an appointment for a clergyman to help him to meet the obligations imposed by the benefice he held. Since the Council of Trent had only allowed coadjutors in the event of great need, usually the canon referred to his old age or illness. The coadjutor acquired the right of succession to the prebend when the incumbent passed away.45 Resignation was the passing of the incumbency of a benefice to someone else. Formally, the benefice was placed in the hands of the patron, but always with the recommendation of the individual who should occupy the office that was left vacant. Exchange was the swap of one benefice for another. These situations usually occurred only if the appointment to the benefice rested with the Holy See, as, in other benefices, the prelates, chapters, and particularly the king and the University of Coimbra retained their powers to choose the new canon. For example, in the cathedrals of Porto, Coimbra, and Évora between 1580 and 1670, these alternate ways of access to the chapter reached values of 40 to 50 percent, with a predominance of resignations and coadjutorias.46 These results indicate that the members of the cathedral chapter influenced the composition of the institution. More than any other academic, civil, or ecclesiastic career, admission to a chapter depended on the ties of kinship or the ability to pay a pen45. Decretos e determinações do sagrado Concilio Tridentino . . ., Sess. XXV, Dec. Reforma, Cap. 7. 46. This analysis is based on an amount of information collected in different archives and sources that has been organized in a database by the author. See also Silva, O Cabido, pp. 94–105. HUGO RIBEIRO DA SILVA 39 sion to the person leaving office, since a canon resigning his office often reserved for himself a pension on the incomes of the benefice. A significant number of coadjutorias and resignations involved family relations, as certain prebends were passed to succeeding generations, with all the economic and social benefits that they entailed. A family’s network could be of assistance to the clergy, and the clergy might be expected to return the favor such as facilitating entry to the institution for another family member or friend. Thus, families new to the area would find admittance to the chapter difficult to achieve. Such was the case in Évora, where clerics for the chanter dignitary followed their uncles in the position: Baltazar de Faria Severim, Manuel Severim de Faria, Manuel Faria de Severim, Francisco de Faria Severim, and Gaspar de Faria.47 The most frequent family ties among the canons were those of uncle and nephew, although brothers also served in the position. An ecclesiastic uncle played an important role, opening the doors of the cathedral to another family member and ensuring the placement of at least one member of the next generation. This also was very important in terms of family strategies, since it allowed an advantageous placement of those who might be unable to marry well and an elevation of the social and symbolic prestige of the entire family. “Friendships” and Gifts: Giving to Receive Although exchanging gifts in the present day is a way of affirming and celebrating personal relationships, historians have demonstrated how in early-modern times it was a means used to seal all kinds of relationships, even those that might be considered “public” today. The boundaries between “public” and “private” were then fainter than they are today.48 Thus, gifts were one way of establishing and cementing patronage bonds, often initiated when individuals aspired to ecclesiastic office. The power and influence of the cardinals, in particular in the Datary, was significant, as previously noted. It was therefore necessary to maintain good relations with them, especially as one of them could become the supreme pontiff. Those who had relationships with cardinals or other well47. ASE, Livro de posses do cabido, CEC 14-XII, fol. 62r (May 15, 1590), fol. 89r (June 16, 1609), fol. 129 (March 19, 1642), fol. 149r (May 29, 1657), and fol. 151r (June 24, 1666). 48. Sharon Kettering, “Gift-Giving and Patronage in Early Modern France,” French History, 2 (1988), 131–51; Bartolomé Clavero, Antídora. Antropologia católica de la economía moderna (Milan, 1991); Jay M. Smith, The Culture of Merit. Nobility, Royal Service, and the Making of Absolute Monarchy in France, 1600–1789 (Ann Arbor, 1996). 40 PATRON-CLIENT RELATIONS AND ECCLESIASTICAL CAREERS placed contacts in Rome had the edge over those from Portugal who had the same goals. Cordial relations with the cardinals were cemented with gifts and displays of courtesy. Portugal’s agent in Rome, Antonio Pinto, was charged by the monarch in 1587 to obtain some benefices and a canonry for João de Lencastre and ascribed his difficulties in accomplishing his task to the fact that the Datary had other Portuguese in Rome who were benefiting from its protection.49 When it came to achieving a benefice, “friendships” had a significant influence.50 Afonso de Castelo Branco, bishop of Coimbra (1585–1615), was well aware of the importance of “friendships” in Rome and tried to cultivate his contacts accordingly. However, to maintain “friendships” over such a great distance was a considerable challenge. Before Giovanni Confalonieri, secretary to the vice-legate in Lisbon, left for Rome in 1597, the bishop sent a servant to the court, with the mission of delivering a letter and a set of offerings for Confalonieri and cardinals in Rome. Among the objects that he sent was a “dressing-gown of mine from India to remind you when you are shaving how good a servant I am,” amber gloves, and even whelk shells and a desk from China.51 Valuable, even exotic, gifts were intended to impress. They symbolized the power of the bishop, who had the means to acquire them, and were aimed at even more powerful men. Certainly Castelo Branco sent these gifts in the hopes that he subsequently would receive a favor at the Roman court. Despite the importance of gift-giving, direct references to the practice rarely have been made in documents. Cristóvão de Moura, marquis of Castelo Rodrigo, wrote to Viceroy Pedro de Castilho in 1612, asking him to assist Brás Dias in his claim for a canonry, as an alcaide (governor) had made the request during his sickroom visit to the marquis when he brought gifts such as fruit.52 As noted by the anthropologist Marcel Mauss, those who receive know that sooner or later they will or may have to repay.53 New ties are cre49. AGS, lb. 1549, fols. 426r–426v, 429r (September 7, 1587). 50. BA, 51-X-9, fol. 196r–197r (December 24, 1667). 51. ASV, Fondo Confalonieri, lv. 39, fol. 46r (January 6, 1597): “penteador meu da India pera se V. M. lembrar quando se barbear, de quão seu servidor sou.” This letter was also mentioned by José Pedro Paiva, “A diocese de Coimbra antes e depois do Concílio de Trento: D. Jorge de Almeida e D. Afonso Castelo Branco,” in Sé Velha de Coimbra. Culto e Cultura. Ciclo de conferências 2003 (Coimbra, 2005), pp. 225–53. 52. BA, 51-VIII-14, fol. 102 (December 12, 1612). 53. Marcel Mauss, Essai sur le don (Paris, 1923). HUGO RIBEIRO DA SILVA 41 ated, and old ones strengthened, through gifts. Even so, not all such relationships and ties have the same dimension. Castelo Branco would have a greater need to impress the cardinals whom he probably never met in person than the alcaide who could visit the marquis of Castelo Rodrigo and bring him fruit, thereby establishing a closer relationship. A gift embodied the notion of debt and created personal obligations, gratitude, and trust.54 An exchange of gifts was not merely an economic transaction but also, as can be gleaned from these examples, one element of the patronage dynamics that were part of European societies in the early-modern era.55 The act of giving was not confined to goods. A prebend was often allocated to someone to ensure future favors and/or loyalties, as already mentioned. In 1628, at the request of the collector, the secretary of state of the Holy See managed to persuade the pope to award a canonry in Lisbon to Bernardo de Ataíde, “whose excellent qualities gave me [the collector] the courage to recommend him to Your Honorable Lordship, to whom I am sure he will be eternally obligated.”56 Fernão de Matos, a member of the King’s Council, thanked Viceroy Pedro de Castilho for the canonry that he was granted in Évora, promising loyalty and recognition.57 Sometimes, however, these bonds of loyalty and even submission did not last. In 1626, Gonçalo Teixeira, canon in Coimbra, had a disagreement with the cathedral chapter and appealed to the prelate to resolve the issue. This move led to a reprimand from the chapter, which reminded him that he had an obligation to show more gratitude for and appreciation of the favors that the chapter had done for him by eating the bread of this house being a chaplain thereof, and the letters of support that the chapter had given him so that the Bishop Martim Afonso Mexia took him as his master of ceremonies, which was why he became canon of this see, something he never imagined, so everything he has he owes to the chapter, and therefore he should not be so ungrateful, but be very obedient and humble.58 54. Clavero, Antídora, pp. 97–105, 187–98. 55. Kettering, “Gift-giving”; Natalie Zemon Davis, The Gift in Sixteenth-Century France (Madison, WI, 2000). 56. ASV, Segr. Stato, Portogallo, lv. 17, fol. 362r (September 16, 1628). 57. BA, 51-VIII-13, fol. 63r–65v (July 27, 1612). 58. Coimbra, Arquivo da Universidade de Coimbra, Cabido da Sé, Acórdãos (hereafter AUC), lv. 11, fol. 34r (April 16, 1626): “obrigação de ser mais agardesido e conhesido das merces que o cabido lhe tinha feito em comer o pão desta casa sendo capellão della, e as cartas de favor que o cabido lhe tinha dadas para o senhor bispo D. Martim Affonso Mexia o tomar por seu mestre de cerimonias que foi a causa para elle vir a ser meio conego desta see cousa que nunqua elle imaginou, em forma que tudo o que tem a o cabido o deve, e por tanto nao se ouvera de mostrar tão ingrato, se não muito obediente e humilde.” 42 PATRON-CLIENT RELATIONS AND ECCLESIASTICAL CAREERS The Virtues of the Candidate The patronage mechanisms that were so important in obtaining an office might create the impression that the qualities of the applicants, particularly their academic qualifications and spiritual background, mattered little or nothing. But in fact, the services rendered by applicants to a canonry or brokers were supplemented by the personal virtues of candidates. The Council of Trent, seeking a better prepared clergy, established seminary education and stressed the need for those aspiring to the holy orders to take examinations.59 However, even after Trent, entry to the chapters was not, in most cases, subject to any kind of examination. Thus the knowledge of a canon was only evaluated at the end of the process for obtaining holy orders. Receiving holy orders implied, therefore, that the candidate had fulfilled the established requirements, including a minimum age (such as twenty-two years old to be subdeacon).60 The Tridentine decrees included the basic requirement that a clergyman in a chapter had to be provided with a prebend.61 The Council established that at least half of the members of a chapter should be priests and the remaining deacons or subdeacons.62 Regarding the education of cathedral clergy, the Council urged that all dignitaries and at least half of the canons should have a degree in theology or canon law. However, it is unknown to what extent the chapters applied this requirement. The only canonries for which there is information are the doutoral, magistral, and penitenciário, which all required a university degree, as previously noted. 63 Education, especially at the University of Coimbra, emerged as an element that gave an advantage to an applicant. Thus, when Jerónimo de Meneses, bishop of Porto, proposed his kinsman Francisco de Meneses for an archdeaconry, he stated that the candidate was a student of canon law.64 In 1601, when the deanery of Coimbra became vacant, Francisco de Castro 59. Decretos e determinações do sagrado Concilio Tridentino. . . , Sess. XXIII, Dec. Reforma, Cap. 18. 60. Decretos e determinações do sagrado Concilio Tridentino. . . , Sess. XXIII, Dec. Reforma, Cap. 12. 61. Idem, Sess. XXIII and XXIV, Dec. Reforma. 62. Hugo Ribeiro da Silva, “O Concílio de Trento e a sua recepção pelos cabidos das catedrais,” in O Concílio de Trento em Portugal e nas suas conquistas: olhares novos, ed. António Camões Gouveia, David Sampaio Barbosa, and José Pedro Paiva (Lisbon, 2014), pp. 77–99, here pp. 81–82. 63. Idem. 64. ASV, Segr. Stato, Portogallo, lv. 10, fol. 101r (July 27, 1595). HUGO RIBEIRO DA SILVA 43 asked the king to write a letter to the pope that supported his application for this benefice, and the Council of Portugal (in Madrid) wrote in its report that the applicant “has studied well in the university of that city, and has a bachelor’s degree in theology and this year will be a doctor.”65 Since these were ecclesiastical offices, sometimes those writing recommendations highlighted the moral qualities of the applicants. Sources contain scant information, but such qualities appear in expressions such as “of good life and habits” or “praiseworthy,” in the context of the individual’s relationship to the Church.66 Other, more general phrases occur such as mentions of a “person of great merit, and of good doctrine and honorable standing” or a “person of great virtue and goodness.”67 In short, academic preparation, a decent life and habits, and the achievements and position of family were the main qualities presented by applicants. The more they possessed and the more connections they had with influential brokers, the greater their chances of success. Provisions to Some, Favors to Others As has been shown, the appointment to a place in a cathedral was more than the simple provision of an office. Secular and ecclesiastic authorities used the prebend to grant favors or to pay for important services. This practice was consistent with early-modern social dynamics. Thus an ecclesiastical benefice was more than the perpetual income received by a clergyman that was due to him for his services to the Church. For the appointment holders, it represented a form of goods that they could use to show favor to other individuals. Sometimes a patron favored someone with a prebend, but reserved a part of the income—essentially providing a pension—for another person. When this happened, the ecclesiastic who obtained the place in the cathedral would have to accept the reduction of his income or negotiate with the 65. AGS, lb. 1480, fol. 105r (September 21, 1601): “tem estudado bem na universidade daquela cidade, e é bacharel formado em teologia e este ano se fará doutor.” 66. ASV, Segr. Stato, Portogallo, lv. 9, fol. 14r (April 4, 1593), lv. 10, fol. 101r (May 27, 1595), lv. 11, fol. 98r (May 24, 1597), and fol. 282r (March 23, 1598); AGS, lb. 1480, fol. 105r (September 21, 1601): “de boa vida e costumes” and “benemérito.” 67. ASV, Segr. Stato, Portogallo, lv. 9, fol. 14r (April 4, 1593), lv. 10, fol. 279r (November 25, 1595): “pessoa de muito mérito, de boa doutrina e de honrada condição” and “pessoa de grande virtude e bondade.” 44 PATRON-CLIENT RELATIONS AND ECCLESIASTICAL CAREERS patron.68 The Holy See quite often only granted a prebend in exchange for a pension. It was the Datary cardinal, in addition to the pope, who led the negotiations, and he was therefore one of the main beneficiaries, sometimes obtaining a pension for himself and his protégés. For example, in 1584 the cardinal in charge of the Datary asked for 400 ducats so that Francisco Vaz Pinto, nephew of the agent of Portugal in Rome, might be confirmed as an archdeacon in the Braga chapter.69 Sometimes those who obtained a canonry from the Datary did not even travel to the cathedrals where they were appointed, resigning immediately in favor of another claimant. Rather than seeking to secure a place in a cathedral chapter, they wanted to obtain solid annuities unfettered by the obligations of office. Indeed, as some were cardinals or employees of the Holy See who were not Portuguese, they could not even take the tenure of the canonry. For example, after the death of Sebastião Alvelos Castelo Branco, canon in Coimbra, Rome appointed a cardinal to this canonry who immediately resigned in favor of Simão Borges de Castro.70 Pensions also served to pay for services or gain the goodwill of the recipients. Castelo Branco tried to use the prebends in his gift as pensions to gain favor with anyone well placed in Rome. In 1606 the bishop promised a pension of 100,000 reis to a cardinal and 50,000 reis to his agent in Rome, Confalonieri, if he was successful in appointing the penitenciário (canon confessor)—a move not supported by the cathedral chapter.71 Although the practice of imposing pensions on cathedral benefices was widespread, there were offices that by tradition, at least, were exempt from the pensions imposed in Rome. In 1587 the Datary cardinal sought to acquire for his Spanish chamberlain a pension of 200 cruzados, which was connected to a doctoral canonry that was vacant in Coimbra. However, according to Antonio Pinto, these doctoral canonries tended not to be “burdened” with pensions, because they are always filled by highly qualified and deserving people as was Bartolomeu da Fonseca, and since their incumbency is in the gift of His Majesty, as expressed in the bull of Pius IV, it would be quite innovative to impose a pension without his consent. 68. Paiva reached the same conclusions studying the appointment of bishops. See Paiva, Os Bispos, pp. 277–88. 69. AGS, lv. 1549, fols. 31r–31v, 36r (June 10, 1584), fols. 40r–40v, 49r–49v (August 1584–88). 70. AUC, lv. 13, fol. 251v (February 1, 1669). 71. ASV, Fondo Confalonieri, lv. 39, fol. 267r (May 20, 1606), fol. 382r (October 17, 1608), fol. 402 (June 22, 1609). HUGO RIBEIRO DA SILVA 45 But the king wanted an exemption for this candidate, because he was not chosen by competition, as was required. Antonio Pinto did not believe that the pope would grant the exemption without the pension, although it seemed that the amount was negotiable: “they will be satisfied with half or a little more of what they request.”72 However, he was mistaken, and he managed to have Bartolomeu da Fonseca appointed to the canonry, without competition and without payment of a pension.73 It thus may be concluded that there were two kinds of intentions that accompanied the award of a pension: personal profit in case of a cardinal or canon resigning his benefice, or favoring an individual other than the recipient of the office. Therefore, pensions became another element in the “economics of favors.”74 Conclusion The rights of appointment to canonries and dignitaries were much coveted by those who needed to maintain a network of influential people for their sociopolitical position. They were an excellent way to consolidate power. Even though the decrees of the Council of Trent emphasized the individual qualities required for appointees to a benefice, it is certain that when a prebend was achieved, ties of kinship and patronage—as well as the economic capacity of family—continued to have a dominant role. Particularly important was the service to the king, the bishop, and the papacy. The notion of a “distributive justice” obliged the patrons to reward the services and fidelity of their clients. The prebend appeared in this context as a privileged way of reward. Actually, the patronage dynamics that emerged in the appointment of cathedral benefices were very similar to the ones that Paiva found for the appointment of the Portuguese bishops.75 The main difference was that, for cathedrals, various patrons enjoyed the privileges of appointment, whereas for bishops, only the Portuguese king could appoint them. Although the importance given to university and ecclesiastical education had increased after the Council of Trent, only some offices required an examination. Moreover, even when a competition took place, patronage 72. AGS, lv. 1549, fols. 336r–336v, 347 (February 23, 1587): “se virão a contentar com a metade do que pedem ou pouquo mais.” 73. AGS, lv. 1549, fol. 341 (March 23, 1587). 74. Clavero, pp. 87–96; Olival, As ordens militares. 75. Paiva, Os Bispos, pp. 171–573; Paiva, “The Appointment.” 46 PATRON-CLIENT RELATIONS AND ECCLESIASTICAL CAREERS relations could override individual merit. Antonio Camelo keenly observed this situation, writing the following about the competitions for benefices: examinations are set and even if masters or doctors of great value apply, the office goes to a relative or a chaplain of the bishop, because the examiners do not want to displease the bishop. Thus, announcement, competition, synodal examination, education, everything results in an illusory ceremony that is really well ordered. [. . .] The chapter does the same when the bishopric is vacant, and even worse, albeit less blameworthy, in my view, because the bad example it thus sets for them in part excuses them.76 The people who most effectively wielded the power accumulated by themselves or by their relatives had the best chance of success. The Roman court was the main distributive center of ecclesiastic benefices, with the Datary playing a major role in controlling their assignment. Thus, the Apostolic Datary, an institution of the Roman Curia that issued the papal bulls for the collation of benefices, was a place to which many people flocked from all over Christendom. The distance between the Holy See and the Portuguese episcopal sees obliged the various applicants for vacant benefices to resort to a series of devices and strategies, as they sought to overcome the lack of direct contact with people who could sway a decision in their favor. There was no single circuit of relations and contacts between the participating actors. One possibility open to claimants was to ask the king or bishop to intercede for them, trying to secure the desired office from the pope. Monarch and prelate thus became brokers, but other mediators between them and the Holy See tended to emerge. One might be the collector in Lisbon, with claimants seeking to take advantage of his frequent contact with the cardinal secretary of state. But this cardinal would still need to influence the cardinal in charge of the Datary. At other times, the applicant, or even the king or bishop, used agents or relatives in Rome in the hope that their physical presence and the consequent chance of establishing contacts with people in positions of power might bring positive results. Moreover, the Portuguese situated in Rome sought to achieve a benefice for themselves. 76. Antonio Moreira Camelo, Parocho perfeito (Lisbon, 1675), p. 12: “fazse exame e ainda que concorrão Mestres ou Doutores insignes, o parente ou Capellão a quem sua Senhoria a tinha dado, leva a certidão, porque não querem desaprazerlhe os sinodaes: com o que edital, concurso, exame, sinodaes, escolla, tudo vem a sair em cerimonia illusoria de constituição tam bem ordenada. . . . O mesmo fazem os Cabidos em falta do Prelado, e peor, supposto que com menos culpa, a meu ver, porque o mao exemplo do que assi lhe [?] virão fazer, em parte os desculpa.” HUGO RIBEIRO DA SILVA 47 The weakness of patronage ties or lack of service to the Holy See, the Crown, the bishops, or the cathedral chapters did not prevent an individual from securing a canonry. The economic resources of a family might enable the applicant to negotiate an office directly with the incumbent, who resigned it in his favor in exchange for a pension. Likewise, coadjutors, in particular, could help a family to perpetuate its position in a cathedral chapter. These ways of obtaining a prebend were not exclusive to Portugal. They were practiced in other dioceses of Catholic Europe, as is borne out in studies on Cadiz and Cordoba in Spain and a number of dioceses in France.77 Resignations and coadjutorias enabled the chapters to enjoy a certain independence from external powers, since a significant number of their members did not gain office through such entities. As a key part of a patronage system, the prebend was not only important to their incumbents. Even though it was a local benefice, it became an instrument for assertion of power for kings, bishops, cardinals, and even the pope. 77. Arturo Morgado Garcia, El estamento eclesiástico y la vida espiritual en la diócesis de Cádiz en el siglo XVII (Cádiz, 1996), pp. 25–26; Rafael Vazquez Lesmes, Córdoba y su cabido catedralicio en la modernidad (Córdoba, 1987), pp. 72–74; Loupès, Chapitres et chanoines, pp. 214–16; and Joseph Bergin, Church, Society and Religious Change in France, 1580–1730 (New Haven, 2009), pp. 76–77. The Cruelest Honor: The Relics of Francis Xavier in Early-Modern Asia LIAM MATTHEW BROCKEY* This article examines the body of Francis Xavier, preserved whole since its exhumation in 1553, through the lens of material history. It traces the corpse’s translation from the China coast to the Malay peninsula and onward to its final resting place in Goa. Historical sources relating to the many examinations of the body are discussed, as well as the devotional traditions that emerged as a result of the miraculous preservation of the body in the tropic heat of Western India. Testimony from late-sixteenth- and seventeenth-century visitors sheds light on how early-modern Asian Catholics understood the relic. Keywords: Francis Xavier, relic, material history, Jesuits, Catholicism in Asia O rders from Rome arrived at Goa in autumn 1614. At the request of Pope Paul V, Claudio Acquaviva, the Superior General of the Society of Jesus, had instructed his subordinates in India to open the casket containing the body of Francis Xavier (1507–52) and remove its right arm. The Goa Jesuits approached their task with trepidation: Why should men defy God’s will if he had prevented nature from corrupting Xavier’s flesh? According to Simão de Figueiredo, one of the few present at the event on November 3 that year, the body was in fine state. It lay in a coffin in the church of São Paulo-o-Velho, dressed in priestly vestments, with its hands clasped around a consecrated host. The sixty-two years that had passed since Xavier’s soul had departed for heaven, wrote Figueiredo, had wrought little change to his body: “His right eye was open and so fresh that he seemed to be alive; and his cheeks were, too, and the fingers with which he held the divine sacrament.” Some of those present urged restraint on Provincial Francisco Vieira (1553–1619), insisting that they should stop if blood flowed from the incision. “But the body is dry,” Figueiredo recalled, “yet with its skin, hair, and clothing most clean.” Yielding to the same *Dr. Brockey is associate professor in the Department of History at Michigan State University, email: brockey@msu.edu. 41 42 THE RELICS OF FRANCIS XAVIER IN EARLY-MODERN ASIA demand for obedience that drove the living Jesuits to dismember the dead one, the corpse surrendered its right arm. But Xavier would give no more. According to the eyewitness, a brother wanted to pull off a toe to keep as a relic, “but he couldn’t do it, no matter how hard he pulled.”1 The dismemberment was recalled nearly a century later by the great Jesuit orator António Vieira, as “the cruelest honor, or the honor most cruel, that the world has ever seen.” Curiously, the deed was done even before Xavier’s beatification (1619) and canonization (1622). There was no greater tribute to the sanctity of the Apostle of the Orient than Rome’s request, Vieira (1608–97) argued in a cycle of sermons published in 1694. After all, the Eternal City was filled with relics: It had no need for more holy remains. Its churches already overflowed with venerable bones and other saintly objects before its catacombs, rediscovered in 1578, disgorged a flood of new ones. “Isn’t Rome the universal sanctuary that distributes relics to the whole Christian world?”, Vieira asked, “Doesn’t it stand on holy ground, watered with the blood of infinite martyrs, where even the smallest part can, and should, be venerated as a relic?” If so, the impulse that drove the pope to request part of the remains of a man whose sanctity had not yet been proclaimed was itself a miracle: “If we saw that the sea asked a fountain for water, and the sun begged light from a star, would our wonderment be any less?” No, Vieira concluded, Rome needed a relic from Xavier to complement those of St. Ignatius Loyola, which were preserved in the Church of the Gesù. Xavier’s sanctity would then literally embrace the world, with one arm “in the East in Goa, head of the church in Asia, and the other in the West in Rome, head of the church and of the entire world.”2 The body of Francis Xavier offers an ideal case for considering the role of relics within early-modern Catholicism. Whether the corporeal remains of holy men and women or objects associated with them, relics have long enjoyed a privileged place in the Christian tradition. Until the dawn of modernity, they served as the bridge between the ethereal realm and the physical world: They were tangible reminders of the presence of the holy, objects imbued with devotional significance, instruments of divine power, 1. Simão de Figueiredo to Diogo Monteiro, Goa, November 25, 1614, in Monumenta Xaveriana, 2 vols. (Madrid, 1899–1912), 2:143; and Sebastião Gonçalves, Primeira Parte da História dos Religiosos da Companhia de Jesus, ed. Josef Wicki, 3 vols. (Coimbra, 1957–62), 1:450. 2. António Vieira, “Sermam Nono. Braço,” in Xavier Dormindo, e Xavier Acordado (Lisbon, 1694), pp. 362–63, 387. LIAM MATTHEW BROCKEY 43 and physical links to sacred individuals and events.3 In their earthiness, relics were magnets for the grasping hands of popular devotion: from the hem of Christ’s garment (Mark 5:25–29) to the shrine at Canterbury, where Chaucer’s pilgrims were headed, “the hooly blisful martir for to seke / That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seeke.”4 Unsurprisingly, it was this same tangibility that caused some medieval and Renaissance commentators to denounce such devotions as superstition. In the Decameron, Giovanni Boccaccio’s Fra’ Cipolla with his false relics is the archetype of the unscrupulous manipulator of popular credulity, whereas in the Pilgrimage for Religion’s Sake Desiderius Erasmus’s Ogygius plays the gullible devotee of dubious holy bones.5 Seeking to separate true religion from superstition, late-medieval reformers raised questions of the authenticity of relics—just as they challenged the veracity of long-held claims in the realms of law, politics, and art. Protestant reformers would take their attacks to another level, with Jean Calvin leading the charge in his 1543 Traité des Reliques.6 Xavier’s relics, like those of other early-modern saints, escaped the central thrust of the reformers’ criticisms. The growing desire for authenticity brought many medieval relics under scholarly scrutiny, with every instrument in the humanist toolkit employed in the task of proving or disproving their veracity. Medical opinions were mooted in the case of miracle-working relics, while theologians sought to verify if the vox populi that 3. The literature on relics in the medieval and early-modern periods is too vast to be summarized briefly. A few entry points are Peter Brown, The Cult of the Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity (Chicago, 1981); Patrick Geary, Furta Sacra: Thefts of Relics in the Central Middle Ages (Princeton, 1978; section ed. 1990); Patrice Boussel, Des Reliques et de leur bon Usage (Paris, 1971), esp. pp. 57–98; Martina Bagnoli, Holger Klein, C. Griffith Mann, and James Robinson, eds., Treasures of Heaven: Saints, Relics, and Devotion in Medieval Europe (New Haven, 2010); Robert Bartlett, Why Can the Dead Do Such Great Things?: Saints and Worshippers from the Martyrs to the Reformation (Princeton, 2013), esp. pp. 239–332; Caroline Walker Bynum, Christian Materiality: An Essay on Religion in Late Medieval Europe (Cambridge, MA, 2011), esp. pp. 125–216; Philippe Boutry, Pierre Antoine Fabre, and Dominique Julia, eds., Reliques Modernes: Cultes et usages chrétiens des corps saints des Réformes aux révolutions, 2 vols. (Paris, 2009); and Howard Louthan, “Tongues, Toes, and Bones: Remembering the Saints in Early Modern Bohemia,” in Relics and Remains, ed. Alexandra Walsham, suppl. 5 to Past and Present, 206 (2010), 167–83. 4. Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales, General Prologue, lines 17–18. 5. The story of Fra’ Cipolla is the tenth story on the sixth day; see Giovanni Boccaccio, Decameron: The John Payne Translation, rev. and ed. Charles Singleton, 2 vols. (Berkeley, 1982), 2:471–79. A richly annotated translation of Peregrinatio religionis ergo is found in Erasmus of Rotterdam, Colloquies, trans. and ed. Craig R. Thompson [Vol. 40 of the Collected Works of Erasmus], (Toronto, 1997), 619–74. 6. Jean Calvin, Traité des Reliques (Paris, 1921), pp. 85–197. 44 THE RELICS OF FRANCIS XAVIER IN EARLY-MODERN ASIA proclaimed the relics’ power was indeed the vox Dei. Relics of biblical figures were called into question most vigorously in the early-modern era, but the remains of ancient martyrs long preserved in European sanctuaries also fell under the shadow of doubt. The outpouring of relics—supposedly from the tombs of early Christian saints but more likely the bones of early Christian sinners, that is, ordinary believers—from the Roman catacombs was met with equal measures of enthusiasm and skepticism by contemporaries. The task of authenticating relics thus became a central preoccupation for early-modern Catholics who saw it as their mission to defend the antiquity and veracity of tradition. By contrast, relics from the recently deceased holy men and women did not oblige those who promoted their cults to such thoroughness.7 In the case of Francis Xavier, no question of authenticity was raised. A swarm of witnesses swore at the hearings held across Maritime Asia in the 1550s and again 1610s that they had known Xavier. He had enjoyed a reputation for sanctity during the ten years (1542–52) he lived in Asia, and there were many who could testify to his charity, wisdom, and prophesies, as well as to the miracles that his prayers had occasioned during his lifetime. These signs, in living memory, gave proof of his sanctity, and similar records sufficed for other pious early moderns to enter the ranks of the blessed and the canonized. Yet Xavier’s sanctity was also proven by the miracle of his incorrupt body. Twice buried and twice exhumed, his corpse had not been consumed by the aggressive forces of nature in the tropics. Even once it emerged from the earth for the protection of wooden, leaden, silver, and crystal caskets, it did not decompose. Indeed, the body can still be seen in its exuberant baroque chapel in the Basilica of the Bom Jesus in Velha Goa, head to toe visible through transparent panes of its funeral monument.8 Working from the perspective of material history, this essay examines the life of Francis Xavier’s body in the century and a half after his death. Such a viewpoint demands focus on an object rather than on people or 7. On the early-modern disputes over relics, see A. Katie Harris, From Muslim to Christian Granada: Inventing a City’s Past in Early Modern Spain (Baltimore, 2007), pp. 1–7, 108– 37; A. Katie Harris, “‘A known holy body, with an inscription and a name’: Bishop Sancho Dávila y Toledo and the Creation of St. Vitalis,” Archiv für Reformationsgeschichte, 104 (2013), 245–71; Katrina Olds, “Ambiguities of the Holy: Authenticating Relics in Seventeenth-Century Spain,” Renaissance Quarterly, 65 (2012), 135–84; and Simon Ditchfield, Liturgy, Sanctity, and History in Tridentine Italy: Pietro Maria Campi and the Preservation of the Particular (Cambridge, UK, 2002), esp. pp. 84–96. 8. Images are readily available on the Internet, as well as in Pedro Dias, O Monumento Funerário de São Francisco Xavier na Casa Professa do Bom Jesus de Goa (Coimbra, 2010). LIAM MATTHEW BROCKEY 45 events, yet requires attention to the fact that individuals, groups, and events are what give objects meaning. The goal here is to give an example of the place of objects within early-modern Catholicism in Asia. Other objects could fill the same role: a ebumi tablet with a devotional scene trod upon by apostates and non-Christians during the brutal Tokugawa-era persecutions in Japan, an illustrated edition of the gospels produced by a Chinese artist for distribution to late Ming neophytes, a set of rosary beads covered in silver filigree and polished to brilliance by the fingers of generations of Indian Catholics, a carved ivory devotional statue from Gujarat or the Philippines depicting the Good Shepherd or the Madonna and Child, or a Persian-language manuscript from the Mughal era containing images of biblical themes in which St. John the Baptist wears a Jesuit cloak and the Three Kings are dressed as Portuguese merchants. Yet Xavier’s body, as António Vieira argued in his sermon, serves to link Europe and Asia, symbolizing not only the transmission of Catholic doctrine but also of popular devotions. The accounts of Xavier from the moment that he breathed his last until the end of the seventeenth century show how contemporaries understood his incorruptibility and its meaning for the spread of Catholicism in the early-modern world.9 *** Francis Xavier died on Shangchuan Island, off the coast of southern China, in the first days of December 1552.10 He had traveled to this clandestine trading spot from Malacca, intending to persuade some Chinese merchant to smuggle him past the Ming Empire’s patrols so that he might address himself to the emperor. But Xavier’s plans were thwarted by disease, and he expired in a straw hut with only a Chinese servant named António in attendance. This shadowy figure recounted Xavier’s final moments by noting in a later deposition that after drawing his last breath, “his face was so happy and greatly amazed, so ruddy and pink that he appeared to be alive.” António then sought a shroud from a group of Portuguese merchants whose vessel was anchored nearby, returning to find Xavier in the same state, “certain he did not seem dead.” The Chinese ser9. These themes are also treated at length in the work of Pamila Gupta. See “The Relic State: St. Francis Xavier and the Politics of Ritual in Portuguese India” (PhD Diss., Columbia University, 2004); and her “Discourses of Incorruptibility: Of Blood, Smell and Skin in Portuguese India,” Ler História, 58 (2010), 81–97. 10. Although his feast is celebrated on December 3, the precise date of his death is not clear. A discussion of the contradictory indications given in contemporary accounts is found in António de Santa Fé to Manuel Teixeira, Cochin, [September 4, 1557?], in Josef Wicki, Documenta Indica, 18 vols. (Rome, 1948–88), 3:663n32. 46 THE RELICS OF FRANCIS XAVIER IN EARLY-MODERN ASIA vant insisted that the body be placed in a wooden coffin, while another servant who had come to help insisted that they fill the coffin with lime. Their aim was to expedite the process of decomposition, António recalled, “because there might be someone who would want to see the bones of Padre Mestre Francisco and take them to India.” So, on the same day that Xavier died, the men procured four “large sacks of lime” that they introduced into the coffin before lowering it into the earth.11 Xavier’s body lay under the earth from early December until February 17, 1553, when the Portuguese merchants planned their return to Malacca. In António’s account, it was he who insisted that the body be removed to colonial safety, and so Captain Luís de Almeida sent a man with orders to exhume the body “and if the bones were capable of being removed, to take them, but if they reeked, to rebury them.” It was at this moment that Xavier’s relics produced their first miracle, for when the coffin was opened the body was found whole, “without any bad smell or stench other than that of the lime that he was in.” According to António, the man cut a slice of flesh from Xavier’s thigh to show to the captain, who by turn smelled it and decided to carry the corpse on his ship. The servant’s account notes that the captain ordered the body to be brought in the coffin, still packed in lime, “so that it not produce any bad smell while at sea.” When the ship with its holy cargo arrived at Malacca on March 22, it was received by a “multitude of people, who had already been alerted to his coming.”12 Xavier’s body was once again buried in the Jesuits’ church of Nossa Senhora do Outeiro at the crest of the hillock that sat inside the city walls. Although no Jesuits were in the city when it arrived, António recalled that the procession escorting the corpse to its new grave was “so solemn that they say none other like it was ever seen in Malacca.”13 Then the body was removed from its coffin and placed, shrouded, in a pit that was smaller than necessary. To smooth the uneven dirt that was placed over the body, workers tamped it down with hard blows. Later on it would be discovered that this rough handling resulted in “great lesions on some parts of his body, breaking his neck and a knee,” as well as flattening Xavier’s nose (see figure 1).14 11. Ibid., pp. 664, 666. The story of Xavier’s death is recounted in several documents, and a number of early-modern chronicles. Preference is given here to eyewitnesses of the events described. 12. Ibid., pp. 668, 670. 13. Ibid., p. 670. 14. Melchior Nunes Barreto to Ignatius Loyola, “At Sea between Cochin and Goa,” May 1554, in Wicki, Documenta Indica, 3:76. LIAM MATTHEW BROCKEY 47 FIGURE 1. Partial view of the torso and profile of Francis Xavier, photographed in the mid-1970s by Bruno Barbey, Magnum Photos. Observers in the 1550s already remarked on the flattened nose, which occurred during his burial in Malacca. These revelations came to light when a Jesuit group led by João da Beira (1512–64) stopped at Malacca on their way to the Moluccas. Until that moment, only servants or laymen had laid eyes on the body. In his account, Chinese António claimed that the group exhumed the body “secretly at night” on August 15, 1553.15 Once again, Xavier was found incorrupt: the lime that still clung to his skin and garments had not destroyed them. And in the poetic vision of one later chronicler, the smell of Xavier’s remains at this moment was “more like the garden of the bridegroom when the south wind blows than that of human flesh.”16 Moreover, the shroud that covered his face and the silk pillow that had been placed under his neck during his burial at Malacca were stained with blood. Contemporary accounts noted that the blood was red and moist, not dried.17 Beira thus appointed Manuel de Távora (1534–after 1578), a temporal 15. António de Santa Fé to Manuel Teixeira, Cochin, [September 4, 1557?], in Wicki, Documenta Indica, 3:672. 16. Gonçalves, Primeira Parte, ed. Wicki, 1:422. The reference is to the Song of Songs (4:16): “O south wind, blow through my garden, and let the aromatical spices thereof flow.” 17. Barreto to Loyola, Malacca, December 3, 1554, in Wicki, Documenta Indica, 3:122. 48 THE RELICS OF FRANCIS XAVIER IN EARLY-MODERN ASIA coadjutor, to remove some of the lime and to escort it to yet another burial at the Society’s Asian headquarters in Goa. Xavier’s body travelled the nearly 2500 miles to the former capital of the Portuguese Estado da Índia in the first months of 1554, arriving in March during Holy Week. Predisposed by their Lenten preparations for a solemn triumph, Goa Jesuits and the city’s residents greeted the new arrival with pomp. Melchior Nunes Barreto (1520–71), at the time the senior Jesuit in Asia, described how he had sailed with a few companions in a skiff to the slow-moving ship bearing Xavier's coffin. Barreto’s goal was to fetch the remains quickly, “and also so that I could, like Thomas, see and touch.” He was not disappointed when he beheld the body: “The skin was soft and with substance, not having been consumed by the lime, nor the earth, nor the worms, and it had a good scent.”18 Among those present was the Jesuit novice Fernão Mendes Pinto (c. 1509–83), the famed author of the swashbuckling Peregrinaçam and erstwhile companion of Xavier in East Asia. Upon seeing the corpse, Barreto asked Pinto: “Do you see here that great friend of yours, Master Francisco, whom we came looking for?” Pinto answered in the affirmative, noting that, despite being covered with lime, Xavier’s garments were “as fresh and new as if they were newly made.” Pinto did not resist the urge to kiss his feet “with many tears, remembering the times he has spent with him.”19 Barreto ordered the coffin to be placed aboard his flag-bedecked ship, bringing the body slowly on its way to Goa. On the morning of March 16, the group reached Goa’s quay where the precious cargo was unloaded in the presence of the local Jesuits and a children’s choir. The most important dignitary at the event was the viceroy of Portuguese India, Dom Afonso de Noronha (r. 1550–54), but he was but one in a crowd of “all the fidalgos and the court of India, and all the people, and the town council, the Misericórdia, and all the clergy.” Jesuits carried the coffin toward the church of São Paulo on the far side of city, amid crowds that Barreto estimated to number “more than five or six thousand souls.”20 But just before the church doors, the final stretch of Xavier’s journey across Maritime Asia, the crowd refused to let the body pass out of sight. At first, those gathered seemed content to have the unseen body in their midst, with the viceroy satisfied only to kiss the coffin. Thinking that the Jesuits would not show the body, 18. Barreto to Loyola, “At Sea,” 3:76–77. 19. Fernão Mendes Pinto to Colleagues in Portugal, Malacca, December 5, 1554, in Wicki, Documenta Indica, 3:144–45. 20. Barreto to Loyola, “At Sea,” 3:76–77. LIAM MATTHEW BROCKEY 49 many wandered off, but according to one report, a few “men and women remained crying out for it to be shown to them.” Barreto conceded to their wishes to lift the coffin’s lid, but only after it was placed within the church and safely behind the altar railing.21 Barreto’s account gives a vivid description of the reactions provoked by this first exposition of Xavier’s remains. Inside the church, the Jesuits had erected a monumental case in the high chapel where they intended to place the coffin, but it would be three days before they were able to accomplish that feat: Such was the devotion of the people and their admiration that it was one of the most worthy reasons for giving thanks to our Lord: Some cried; others beat their breasts, begging God pardon for their sins; others yet pushed forward wanting to touch their beads and other things against the body of the blessed padre. In the end, they almost broke the rails in the church, and would not stop kissing his feet. If we had not been there with him, I greatly fear that every one would have taken a piece as a relic, such was the great fervor of the people. We could not put the body inside the monument until Sunday evening due to the weight of the peoples’ devotion upon us. And even from that moment until midnight, they would not clear out so the church doors could be closed.22 A report of this event by Aires Brandão (c. 1529–63), another of the Goa Jesuits, claimed that Barreto tried to impose order on this outburst of popular piety. This Superior insisted that only small groups be admitted, since the altar rail was too weak to hold back the force of the faithful pressing for entry into Xavier’s presence. “There were many who were not satisfied to see him only once, but came twice or three times, always desirous to see him again,” Brandão wrote, asserting further: “They came in two by two through the chapel gate, heading for the coffin and kneeling before it, kissing his feet and hands very carefully, and touching their beads to his feet and hands.”23 Barreto’s fear that the ravenous appetites of the people of Goa would devour the holy body was not unfounded. Religious congregations knew it was a very dangerous business to display their relics in public; this was not the only occasion when church railings were smashed and loose pieces of fabric, 21. Aires Brandão to Colleagues in Coimbra, Goa, December 23, 1554, in Wicki, Documenta Indica, 3:176. 22. Barreto to Loyola, “At Sea,” 3:77. 23. Aires Brandão to Colleagues in Coimbra, Goa, December 23, 1554, in Wicki, Documenta Indica, 3:176. 50 THE RELICS OF FRANCIS XAVIER IN EARLY-MODERN ASIA bone, or even flesh were detached.24 Xavier suffered, too, during this first viewing. In the testimony presented for his beatification case in 1616, two women claimed to have seen someone remove one of his toes. Clara Álvares “swore that when she went to kiss the feet of the saint, as everyone did, in the center of the church of the College of São Paulo, where it lay, a woman who was kissing his feet wanted to take a bit of the relic of the body of the saint and so bit with her teeth.” To be sure, the removal of a toe was not surprising for these witnesses. What “caused great amazement to all of those who were present” was the fact that fresh blood flowed from the wound (see figure 2).25 The signs of continued “life” demanded close inspection by the Jesuits, as well as by civil and ecclesiastical dignitaries. Although sight and smell sufficed for those who had seen the body between its first exhumation on Shangchuan Island and the viewing at São Paulo during Holy Week of 1554, further scrutiny was needed before authorities could proclaim it miraculous. After all, Xavier would not be canonized until more than half a century after his death, and there were established processes necessary for adjudicating sanctity. Moreover, his death occurred in the midst of the Council of Trent (1545–63), where questions related to sanctity and popular devotions were discussed. Regardless of the outpouring of popular emotion, the Society of Jesus, the secular church hierarchy, and the Portuguese Crown did not want to dispense with due diligence by letting Xavier be venerated before it was time. Although firm rules against public demonstrations of sanctity for the not-yet-beatified would be established in the 1620s, the celebration of unofficial saints was already discouraged by the halting of canonizations in the 1520s. For much of the sixteenth century, no new saints were made as the popes and the council dealt with the criticisms of the reformers (Catholic or Protestant) and the papal curia assumed control 24. Other examples of the voracious popular desire to “steal” relics are found in Alexandra Walsham, “Skeletons in the Cupboard: Relics after the English Reformation,” in her Relics and Remains, suppl. 5 to Past and Present, 206 (2010), 121–43; and Liam M. Brockey, “Jesuit Pastoral Theater on an Urban Stage: Lisbon, 1588–1593,” Journal of Early Modern History, 9 (2006), 1–50, esp. 17–26. 25. Georg Schurhammer, “Uma Relação Inédita do Pe. Manuel Barradas SI sobre São Francisco Xavier,” in his Varia, 2 vols. (Lisbon, 1965), pp. 431–65, here p. 464; and Canonization Process for Francis Xavier from Cochin, Santa Cruz de Cochin, July 10, 1616– December 10, 1616, Testimony of Isabella Marcona, Cochin, July 14, 1616, in Monumenta Xavier, 2:446–512, here p. 453; and Testimony of Domingos Cardoso, Cochin, July 28, 1616, ibid., p. 491. António Vieira also mentions in his sermon about the arm of Xavier that the body’s liveliness tricked sight, smell, and even taste, this last one “because there was such bold, or famished, devotion, that with teeth a toe was secretly cut from a foot.” See Vieira, “Braço,” p. 353. LIAM MATTHEW BROCKEY 51 FIGURE 2. View of Francis Xavier’s feet, photographed in the mid-1970s by Bruno Barbey, Magnum Photos. Note the missing toes, several of which were taken by devotees as relics in the early-modern period. over the canonization process. Yet the news of Xavier’s incorrupt body prompted official action in case Rome decided to recommence the business of naming saints, as it did in 1588.26 King João III (r. 1521–57) therefore sent orders to Goa in early 1556 for his viceroy to coordinate the collecting of testimony of “all edifying matters and supernatural works” related to the holy man whom the king had sent to Asia fifteen years before.27 The inquiries that were held in Goa, Cochin, Bassein, and Malacca between November 1556 and May 1557 contain depositions from sixtyfour witnesses.28 These men and women, who composed a cross-section of Luso-Indian society, mostly spoke to the royal commissioners about the many virtues that they had seen Xavier demonstrate while alive. A small 26. Simon Ditchfield, “Tridentine Worship and the Cult of the Saints,” in Cambridge History of Christianity, Vol. 6: Reform and Expansion, 1500–1650, ed. R. Po-Chia Hsia (Cambridge, UK, 2008), pp. 201–24, esp. pp. 205–16. 27. King João III to Pedro Mascarenhas, Lisbon, March 28, 1556, in Wicki, Documenta Indica, 3:469–71. 28. The four inquiries are transcribed in Latin and Portuguese in Monumenta Xaveriana, 2:175–447. 52 THE RELICS OF FRANCIS XAVIER IN EARLY-MODERN ASIA number gave testimony about the state of his body, since they had seen it soon after it was exhumed, either in Shangchuan or Malacca. This group spoke above all to the state of preservation of the corpse and its clothes. Their senses served as their guide, since sight, smell, and touch easily revealed if nature pursued its typical course. Several of these witnesses invoked the literal odor of sanctity that came from the corpse. For example, Estévão Ventura, one of the merchants who had been present on Shangchuan, claimed to have touched the body “to see if it smelled, and it only smelled good, yet they couldn’t tell what smell it was; some said it smelled of myrrh, others said there was musk, and others benzoin.”29 Other individuals spoke of the items that had been in contact with the body. The blue damask pillow that had been placed under Xavier’s neck in Malacca, for instance, was examined by Barreto and a circle of women who were entrusted with cleaning it and the other garments that had touched the corpse. Violante Ferreira claimed that the pillow “was filled with dried sweat, like that of a living man.” She also was charged with washing the surplice that Xavier had worn in the grave, removing from it coin-sized bloodstains. These she “scraped off with a knife,” preserving them in a reliquary, and testifying that they “smelled sweetly.”30 This surplice, which had gained miraculous powers thanks to its being in contact with the incorrupt body, eventually became an important derivative relic of Xavier: Barreto took it with him on his trip to Japan in the mid-1550s, hoping to work miraculous conversions with such an evidently powerful tool.31 Later Jesuit commentators saw him replicating the pious gesture of St. Anthony Abbot who donned the garments of St. Paul the Hermit, as well as that of the prophet Elijah who bequeathed his mantle with his successor, Elisha.32 As far as the material dimension of Xavier’s sanctity could be determined during the 1556 inquiry, the gold standard of proof lay in a medical examination. With the exception of those who attended the exhumations and a few 29. Inquiry conducted at Cochin for Francis Xavier, Cochin, January 8–27, 1557, testimony from Estévão Ventura, ibid., 2:281. 30. Inquiry conducted at Goa for Francis Xavier, Goa, November 18, 1556–January 13, 1557, testimony from Violante Ferreira, ibid., 2:202–03. 31. Fernão Mendes Pinto to Colleagues in Portugal, Malacca, December 5, 1554, in Wicki, Documenta Indica, 3:145. 32. Alessandro Valignano, Historia del Principio y Progresso de la Compañia de Jesús en las Indias Orientales (1542–64), ed. Josef Wicki (Rome, 1944), p. 267; and Gonçalves, Primeira Parte, ed. Wicki, 1:423. The story of Anthony and Paul is in Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend, trans. William Granger Ryan, 2 vols. (Princeton, 1993), 1:85; that of Elijah and Elisha is recounted in 4 Kings (2 Kings) 2:11–14. LIAM MATTHEW BROCKEY 53 Jesuits who inspected it closely during its transportation to Goa, few had actually touched the body with their hands. Sight and smell had been sufficient for most, although many were reported to have touched his flesh with their lips. Two experts had nevertheless given the body a full inspection the day after it arrived in Goa, although the testimony of Doutor Mestre Cosme Saraiva and Doutor Ambrósio Ribeiro was only recorded during inquiries two years later. Saraiva recalled that he touched the body “with his hands on the stomach, which was firm and corpulent and not stuffed, and it seemed to him that it still had its intestines.” This assertion was clear proof of incorruptibility because the viscera would have been the first parts to decompose, and that no attempt at surreptitious taxidermy had been made—an accusation leveled at the Jesuits by the local Dominicans.33 To be sure, however, Saraiva instructed a Jesuit coadjutor to insert his finger into a “hole that the body had on the side of the heart.” When the brother withdrew his finger, it was covered with a “watery blood” that Saraiva insisted “had not the least smell of corruption, but only a bit of a stink that seemed to be lime and of the clothing.” This doctor also felt Xavier’s legs, noting that they were “whole and with some flesh, which still appeared solid.” In Saraiva’s expert opinion, the body’s state was miraculous because “following the course of nature and the rules of medicine it could not be preserved in the way that it was for such a long time being buried under the earth.”34 Ambrósio Ribeiro appears to have conducted a more thorough examination. His testimony was of considerable weight, since he was not only the vicar general of the Bishopric of Goa but also the coordinator who gathered testimony for the king. Ribeiro describes how he inspected the body “for a long while,” running his hands up Xavier’s legs until the knee, and touching his chest and arms. “I affirm that the flesh is covered with all of its skin, whole and incorrupt, and the flesh had substance and moisture in most of the body,” he declared. Ribeiro noted a cut made in the left leg, most likely the same one that had been made when the body was first exhumed in Shangchuan (and corresponding to the piece of flesh that Violante Ferreira claimed to have in her possession, one that continually seeped blood).35 Ribeiro also indicated that surrounding the wound was a stain “which man33. Barreto to Loyola, Malacca, 3 December 3, 1554, in Wicki, Documenta Indica, 3:123; and Michele Barul to Colleagues in Europe, Goa, 1555, ibid., p. 429. 34. Inquiry conducted at Goa for Francis Xavier, Goa, November 18, 1556–January 13, 1557, testimony from Doutor Cosme Saraiva, Monumenta Xaveriana, 2:190. 35. Inquiry conducted at Goa for Francis Xavier, Goa, November 18, 1556–January 13, 1557, testimony from Doutor Ambrósio Ribeiro, ibid., 2:210; and testimony from Violante Ferreira, ibid., 2:202–03. 54 THE RELICS OF FRANCIS XAVIER IN EARLY-MODERN ASIA ifestly showed itself to be blood, but which was black in color, like something that had happened long ago.” Instead of calling an assistant, this doctor inserted his own fingers into the hole in Xavier’s chest “as far as the liver.” He recalled that the stomach felt hollow, but confirmed feeling something like intestines, but they were “dried up owing to the long amount of time that body was buried.” The final test that Ribeiro mentioned in his testimony consisted in smelling Xavier’s remains, which he declared incorrupt thanks to his having “brought his face very close to him.”36 *** After the inquiries conducted in the mid-1550s, there was no further need to verify the incorrupt body. Indeed, the Goa Jesuits seemed to have had very little need to show the body to anyone, even men from their own ranks. The body was kept in a closed coffin in São Paulo, a precious relic whose very presence signaled divine approval for the activities of the Society of Jesus. For the next half century, until another public viewing was held in 1611 and the request came from Rome for Xavier’s arm to be severed, the corpse served the Jesuits primarily as a symbol. To be sure, a set of relics associated with Xavier—from a lock of his hair to his rosary beads to his vestments—was venerated in Goa, and some relics were distributed to parts of Europe.37 It was during this period that evidence of the incorrupt body and the healing miracles that it was considered to have caused were recorded by Jesuit chroniclers, in anticipation of an eventual canonization trial. Starting in the 1580s, lives of Xavier began to include chapters devoted to his body and postmortem miracles. Alessandro Valignano (1539–1606), inspector of the Jesuit enterprises in India and Japan, wrote the first substantial chronicle of the Jesuits in Asia, a narrative that spanned their first twenty-two years. Over half of this work was devoted to Xavier’s life, even though his ten years represented less than half of the period discussed, and it included two chapters on his death and the translation of his body to Goa.38 By century’s end, the place of Xavier had moved from that of primus inter pares to the individual focus of devotional attention. Two major biographies appeared near the end of the sixteenth century, the lives 36. Inquiry conducted at Goa for Francis Xavier, Goa, November 18, 1556–January 13, 1557, testimony from Doutor Ambrósio Ribeiro, ibid., 2:210. 37. An inventory of Xavier’s relics is found in Georg Schurhammer, “Die Xaveriusreliquien und ihre Geschichte / Les Reliques de S. François Xavier et Leur Histoire,” in his Varia, pp. 345–69. 38. Valignano, Historia del Principio y Progresso, pp. 257–70. LIAM MATTHEW BROCKEY 55 by Orazio Torsellino (Rome, 1594) and João de Lucena (Lisbon, 1600). In both of these, the story of Xavier’s body is given a central place. Torsellino’s version greatly expands the succinct account of the events given by Valignano, and Lucena’s text goes even further.39 Both texts make use of the testimony gathered by the inquiries in 1556–57, citing the reports by the two doctors Ribeiro and Saraiva verbatim.40 As expected, these authors explained why Xavier had been shown such special divine favor. For Lucena, the incorruptible body was a clear sign that God wanted the world to revere Xavier’s example: “God made it so manifest how well He had been served in the world and how closely His holy Christ had been imitated that He thus made Xavier share in the Lord’s incorruptibility.”41 Torsellino’s interpretation insisted that the body was the means through which God intended to work miracles, its preservation being the first of the long list of wonders occasioned. Even those who were ill-disposed toward Xavier during his lifetime, this author claimed, had to concede when faced with the miraculous body that the Jesuit’s soul was “most certainly enjoying the presence of God Our Lord.”42 As these texts demonstrate, the body of Xavier began to take on a life of its own within Jesuit discourse. During that age of religious discord, he became a powerful weapon in the hands of Catholic polemicists such as Cardinal Robert Bellarmine (1542–1621). For this renowned theologian, Xavier’s incorruptibility stood in stark contrast to the fate of the bodies of Protestant leaders and, in particular, the man he deemed the heresiarch, Martin Luther (1483–1546). After summing up the life and miracles, preand postmortem, of his Jesuit confrere, Bellarmine sketched Luther’s life based on the writings of the German reformer’s most tenacious Catholic critic, Johannes Cochleus (1479–1552): Let us compare these things with the life and death of Luther: He abandons the monastery, he marries after vowing chastity, he makes war against the Pope. Francisco enters the religious life, he keeps his vow of chastity most diligently, he swears a specific vow of obedience to the Pope and, sent by him, goes to the farthest lands on earth. Truly, these 39. See, for example, Orazio Torsellino, Historia de la entrada de la Christiandad en el Japon, y China, y en otras partes de las Indias Orientales, trans. Pedro de Guzman (Valladolid, 1603), pp. 352–71; and João de Lucena, Historia da Vida do Padre Francisco de Xavier e do que fizerão na India os mais Religiosos da Companhia de Iesu (Lisbon, 1600), pp. 890–908. 40. Torsellino, Historia, pp. 283r–84v; and Lucena, Historia, pp. 902–04. 41. Ibid., p. 904. 42. Torsellino, Historia, p. 283r. 56 THE RELICS OF FRANCIS XAVIER IN EARLY-MODERN ASIA two take opposite paths, ones so different that one of them necessarily goes off of the right path. Who is a better judge of this than God, who searches hearts and reins?43 And how can God most openly make clear His opinion but by giving the singular gift of working miracles, and preserving the body perpetually outside of the course of nature? He makes it so that the other one cannot resurrect a fly, and once his body is outside the course of nature it swiftly begins to rot. And this happens in the middle of winter when everything was frozen by the cold, and it rotted such that the bad smell could not keep from leaking out of the tin box in which that miserable body was placed.44 Nearly half a century had passed since Xavier’s body had been shown to the public by the time Bellarmine made his argument. During that time, it appears that very few were granted the right to see the body. The policy of restricting access was shrewd, since it ensured that the value of Xavier’s relics would remain high. And so, after a viewing held on the feast of the Eleven Thousand Virgins (October 21), 1555, visitors to his tomb saw only his coffin.45 Sebastião Gonçalves (1555–1619), the author of a lengthy account of Xavier’s relics and miracles, remarked on how rare it was for anyone to “sanctify their eyes” by seeing it. For example, the captain of the Portuguese fleets in 1611, António de Ataide (1567–1647), requested a viewing of the body “but had to content himself by devoutly embracing the coffin where the holy body is deposited.” According to Gonçalves, those who came to visit the tomb were permitted to see Xavier’s surplice, kept in a silver case in the same chapel. In this commentator’s understanding, the Jesuits did well to keep the devout at arm’s length, even from this vestment relic. To prove his point, he recorded that in 1611, “the surplice was folded and placed into a silk bag for its protection, because when the devotees kissed it, they would bite it with their teeth.”46 43. The citation is from Psalm 7:10, “The wickedness of sinners shall be brought to nought: and thou shalt direct the just: the searcher of hearts and reins is God.” Reins are kidneys. 44. Robert Bellarmine, “de notis Ecclesia,” in Disputationum Roberti Bellarmini, politani, S.J – De controversiis Christianae fidei adversus hujus temporis haereticos, 4 vols. (Milan, 1857–62), 2:135. Bellarmine’s comments are loosely based on Johannes Cochleus’s widely read biography of Luther. See his “The Deeds and Writings of Martin Luther from the Year of the Lord 1517 to the Year 1546 Related Chronologically to All Posterity,” trans. Elizabeth Vandiver, ed. Ralph Keen, in Luther’s Lives: Two Contemporary Accounts of Martin Luther, ed. Vandiver, Keen, and Thomas Franzel, (Manchester, UK, 2003), pp. 54–355, esp. pp. 350– 54. The author thanks Jochen Birkenmeier of the Stiftung Lutherhaus in Eisenach for his help clarifying this point. 45. Michele Barul to Colleagues in Europe, Goa, 1555, in Wicki, ed., Documenta Indica, 3:429. 46. Gonçalves, Primeira Parte, ed. Wicki, 1:453–54. LIAM MATTHEW BROCKEY 57 Gonçalves further asserted that very few Jesuits had peered inside the coffin in the first half-century after Xavier’s arrival in Goa. Even those missionaries passing through Goa on their way to distant assignments received “a great mortification, in that they are not shown the body,” he remarked, noting: “I came from Portugal in the year 1593 and I was never allowed to see it until the year 1611, the year I am writing this.” Not even the Superior General’s personal representative, Visitor Nicolau Pimenta (1546–1614), took the opportunity to see the body—something that Gonçalves considered remarkable since “there is no rule among the men of the Society nor in the sacred canons that prohibits a personal viewing.”47 However, both Gonçalves, in the capacity of assistant to the provincial officer, and Pimenta would see their pious dreams realized in 1611 when a public viewing was held.48 The second decade of the seventeenth century witnessed Xavier’s farthest movements since his arrival in Goa sixty years before. The beatification of Ignatius Loyola in 1609 brought with it a growing interest in Rome about the Jesuit founder’s companion and compatriot. And so it came to pass that Pope Paul V requested a relic from Xavier’s body, and the “cruelest honor” was paid to the corpse: his right arm was severed in 1614. According to a late-seventeenth century Jesuit chronicler, the men who removed this relic showed perhaps too much zeal: Despite Superior General Aquaviva having “only asked for some relic, they cut off his whole right arm.” Perhaps relieved to have something to distribute, the Goa Jesuits sent only half of the arm to Rome, the part from the elbow to the hand. They held on to the upper arm bone for five years, dividing it in three in 1619: one piece sent to the Jesuit college in Cochin, one sent to the Society’s college in Malacca, and the third sent to the Order’s college in Macau.49 The rest of Xavier’s corporal relics were placed in a new tomb, “a gilded sepulcher, more proper than where they had been deposited before,” in 1617; in 1620, the body was moved from the church of São 47. Ibid., pp. 449–50. 48. One history of the body and its cult suggests that the coffin was opened yearly, on the feast of the Conversion of St. Paul (January 25), during the late-sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. But the only reference to such an occurrence is found in the writings of a French traveler, François Pyrard, who happened to be in Goa in 1611 and who appears to have attended that extraordinary exposition. Contemporary Jesuit writings, such as those of Gonçalves, however, contradict Pyrard’s assertion. Cf. Puthota Rayanna, St Francis Xavier and His Shrine (Ranchi, 1964), pp. 104–05; and François Pyrard, Voyage de François Pyrard de Laval (Paris, 1619), p. 61. 49. Francisco de Sousa, Oriente Conquistado a Jesu Christo pelos Padres da Companhia de Jesus da Provincia de Goa, 2 vols. (Lisbon, 1710), 1:686. 58 THE RELICS OF FRANCIS XAVIER IN EARLY-MODERN ASIA Paulo‒o‒Velho across town to the Jesuits’ Professed House of the Bom Jesus.50 After Xavier’s corpse had been taken to the church where it can still be seen, it moved only on a handful of other occasions. Between the 1620s and the 1690s, it shifted places within the Professed House. The body was also transferred from its precious repository to an even more ornate one in 1637: a massive silver filigree tomb that was made by indigenous artisans in Goa. This monument had crystal panels on its sides that were covered with silver plates depicting episodes from Xavier’s life.51 (It was at the same moment in the late 1630s that the saint’s internal organs—or what was left them—were removed and distributed as relics to several European Jesuit novitiates and colleges).52 The new silver tomb was placed atop a stone plinth, where it remained until the final completion of its chapel. That would occur when the stone base was sheathed in marble and carved relief offered to the Goa Jesuits by Grand Duke Cosimo III of Tuscany (r. 1670–1723). These pieces were shipped from Italy and reconstructed on site by an Italian architect, Placido Francesco Ramponi, in 1697 (see figure 3).53 The final tomb structure was a fitting stage for the theatrical display of the miraculous body, a perfect vision of baroque Catholic piety. It appears that a tradition of yearly viewings of the body was made possible by its transfer to the silver coffin with the crystal panels in the late 1630s. Prior to that moment, descriptions of the saint’s shrine do not mention the body itself.54 One Jesuit report from 1647, however, mentions crowds of 50. Manuel Tinoco, Annual Letter for the Province of Goa for 1617, Goa, January 20, 1618, excerpted in Monumenta Xaveriana, 2:773; and António Rodrigues, Annual Letter for the Province of Goa for 1620, Goa, November 27, 1621, Rome, Archivum Romanum Societatis Iesu [=ARSI], Goa Collection Codex 33–I:650v. This last document notes that the body was removed “last year,” clearly referring to 1620. 51. Georg Schurhammer, “Der Silberschrein des Hl. Franz Xaver in Goa. Ein Meisterwerk Christlich-Indischer Kunst.” in Schurhammer, ed., Varia, pp. 561–67 + facsimile. 52. Georg Schurhammer, “Die Xaveriusreliquien und Ihre Geschichte,” ibid., pp. 345– 69, here pp. 348–49. 53. An illustrated discussion of the tomb monument is in Pedro Dias, O Monumento Funerário, pp. 16–24. Ramponi’s diary is reproduced in Carla Sodini, I Medici e le Indie Orientali: Il diario di viaggio di Placido Ramponi emissario in India per conto di Cosimo III (Florence, 1996), pp. 79–109. 54. Accounts of the canonization celebrations at Goa in 1624 make no mention that the body was displayed. The first silver casket is mentioned in these reports, but not the relics themselves. Jesuit annual letters from the 1620s also include no indication that the body was displayed. See Anon., Traça da Pompa Triunfal com que os Padres da Companhia de IESV LIAM MATTHEW BROCKEY 59 FIGURE 3. The monumental funerary chapel completed in the 1690s inside the Bom Jesus church in Goa, India. The silver casket, made in the late 1630s, has removable panels intended to cover its crystal panes. Photo courtesy Martin Jann. visitors from Goa and the surrounding area during the octave of Xavier’s feast each year in early December. The highpoint of these devotions came on the eve of the feast day, as well as on the holy day, when the sacred deposit is shown, its sumptuous and rich sepulcher is opened, and so many are those that come to venerate it that the church doors must be kept open almost to three hours after nightfall, and not even then do all have a chance to view it.55 Testimony of other visitors to the Bom Jesus in the late-seventeenth century confirms these yearly viewings, such as that of John Fryer (c. 1650– 1733), an English merchant who saw the shrine in the 1670s. Fryer remarked on the tomb that contained “a Miraculous Relick of his better celebrão em Goa a Canonização de Sancto Ignacio de Loyola seu fundador, e Patriarcha, e de S. Francisco Xavier Apostolo deste Oriente, no anno de 624, in Schurhammer, ed., Varia, 493–96 + facsimile, unnumbered folios after 496; and Sebastião Barreto, Annual Letter for Province of Goa for 1624, Goa, December 15, 1624, ARSI Goa 33–I:750r–51r. 55. Anon. Jesuit author, Annual Letter for the Province of Goa for 1647, Goa, January 5, 1648, ARSI Goa 34–I:215v. 60 THE RELICS OF FRANCIS XAVIER IN EARLY-MODERN ASIA part, it still retaining its vivid Colour and Freshness, and therefore exposed once a Year to publick view, on the Vespers of his Festival.”56 It appears certain that the audience for this annual miracle play remained at a significant remove from the Jesuits’ sacred treasure. Theirs was only to see the body, not to touch it. But such was the luck of Giovanni Francesco Gemelli Careri (1651–1725), who visited the Bom Jesus on Thursday, April 7, 1695. This Italian traveler described how Xavier was placed “in a crystal box, inside of another of silver, and placed upon a stone base” (Gemelli Careri arrived two years before Cosimo III’s donation). Since he arrived half a year before the annual feast, he had to make a special request of the Jesuit provincial officer to see the body “since they do not show it to anyone except the Viceroy or some other distinguished persons.” A special accommodation was nevertheless made “behind locked doors” to show the Italian visitor the body, allowing him to gaze through the crystal panes.57 Alexander Hamilton (d. after 1732), a Scottish traveler to Goa at the turn of the eighteenth century, remarked that no one besides the local Jesuits had “the Honour to come with the iron Rails that are placed about the Corps, four or five yards distant from it.” From that vantage, Hamilton could nevertheless see that the body looked “as fresh as a new scalded Pig, but with the Loss of an Arm,” and that a priest was charged to “shave his Head and Beard” weekly. In the Scotsman’s judgment, it was a pretty Piece of Wax-work that serves to gull the People of their Money, for many visit it with great Veneration, and leave something at its Shrine for the Maintenance of Candles and Olive Oil, that continually burn before it.58 There was at least one group of late-seventeenth-century visitors who gained the privilege of touching Xavier’s body, unlike others who could only contemplate it from behind a marble barrier.59 These fortunate indi56. John Fryer, A New Account of East-India and Persia in Eight Letters (London, 1698), p. 150. 57. Giovanni Francesco Gemelli Careri, Giro del Mondo, 4 vols. (Naples, 1708), 3:183– 84. Gupta claims that Gemelli Careri not only “measured” Xavier’s body, but also kissed it. The Italian original of his text makes no mention of anything beyond a private viewing. Cf. Gupta, “The Relic State,” pp. 266–67n336. 58. Alexander Hamilton, A New Account of the East Indies, 2 vols. (Edinburgh, 1727), 1:252–53. Fryer and Hamilton’s texts are also reproduced in Gupta, “The Relic State,” pp. 150, 264–66. 59. According to Francisco de Sousa, one of the Jesuits who lived at the Professed House in the late-seventeenth century, “no one dared to touch the body of the Saint out of respect and reverence.” But in cases of extreme necessity, such as during the dire illness of LIAM MATTHEW BROCKEY 61 viduals were Apostolic Prefect Francesco Maria Spinola (1654–1694) and his secretary, Jean Simon Bayard (1662–1725), both Jesuits, as well as the Portuguese viceroy and three noblemen.60 Bayard wrote to his confreres back in Europe that Spinola, immediately following his consecration at the hands of the archbishop of Goa in 1694, insisted upon making una exacta visita y un processo verbal del estado del sagrado cuerpo. This French Jesuit was clearly aware of his unique opportunity, declaring, “I had the luck of being among the most privileged; the good fortune to touch the body of the Saint with my hands and to observe it with my eyes for the span of an hour and a half.” After remarking on the richness of the silver monument and the bejeweled vestments, Bayard wrote: The Saint’s hair is black and a bit curly, and it is still fresh; the forehead is square and broad, and it has two thick veins in the middle, purple and soft, such as the diligent and talented normally have; the eyes are black, alive and sweet, and at the same time with a regard so penetrating that he seems to breathe still; the mouth is red, the beard full, and in the middle of the cheeks there is a very fine reddening; the tongue is fresh, red, and humid; the chin well proportioned, and, in a word, has all of the signs of living man: fluid blood, flexible members, solid flesh, and a lively color, the feet straight and nails handsome; and, with the exception of two bits of flesh, which are darker near the right shoulder, no more pure or more sane body could be found than that of this holy apostle of India.61 *** As the various documents cited here attest, the body of Xavier was the focus of local devotions. It is perhaps the fate of all relics that they become part of specific contexts, tied by the force of popular piety to particular spaces. Regardless of the universal appeal to Jesuits and others across the early-modern Catholic world, Xavier’s remains were most appealing to the people of Portuguese India. They had seen miracles worked in their midst by the incorrupt body and other relics that were associated with the Apostle of the Orient. Although António Vieira could invoke the symbolic power of Xavier’s life and miracles in places as distant as Lisbon or Bahia, and other Jesuits would zealously promote his cult from Poland to Peru Viceroy António Paes de Sande in 1681, such reluctance was overcome. On that occasion, the tomb was opened and a ribbon was tied around Xavier’s finger, later to be placed upon Paes de Sande’s hand to occasion a miraculous cure. See Sousa, Oriente Conquistado, 1:660. 60. On Spinola, see Angel Santos Hernández, Jesuitas y obispados. Los Jesuitas Obispos Misioneros y los Obispos Jesuitas de la extinción, 2 vols. (Madrid, 2000), 2:138. 61. Jean Simon Bayard to Jesuit Companions in France, Goa, [1694], in Monumenta Xaveriana, 2: 777–78. The author thanks Ricardo Padrón for his help with this translation. 62 THE RELICS OF FRANCIS XAVIER IN EARLY-MODERN ASIA (aided, in some places, by relics brought from India), it was those who saw the body who were most emotionally attached to it. Xavier’s continual miracle was his body’s real presence, something that devotees in Portuguese India could see for themselves. The senses of the faithful, after all, had set the bar of proof since the body was first exhumed in 1554. That the people of the Estado da Índia cherished Xavier’s presence in their midst is not in doubt. The scores of witnesses who offered testimony of his sanctity in the 1550s and again in the 1610s spoke in unison about his miracles, both before and after his death. Generations of Indian Catholics, especially those from the Western region where the Portuguese presence was most strongly felt, visited Xavier’s shrine regularly (see figure 4). The 1647 Jesuit annual letter gives an indication of the breadth of their geographic origins: Not only from Goa and its islands, but also from remote parts of all of India do they come to the sepulcher of the Holy Apostle with vows and donations for blessings received, as well as to ask for new ones.62 The gradual reduction of the expanse of Portuguese India over the course of the seventeenth century, whether at the hands of the Dutch East India Company from the south or the Marathas from the north, served to focus local devotions on Xavier as intercessor. The preservation of Goa in the face of repeated blockades by Dutch ships in mid-century and the siege carried out by Sambhaji (r. 1680–89) in November 1683 was attributed to the saint’s intervention: When Viceroy Francisco de Távora (r. 1681–86) saw Portuguese resistance crumbling before the Maratha onslaught, he requested that the Jesuits open Xavier’s tomb for a special appeal. According to a contemporary Jesuit chronicler, Távora placed in the saint’s hands his commander’s baton and royal patent, “and a paper with his writing and seal on which, in the name of the most serene king of Portugal, he handed over the governing of the Estado so that he might defend and conserve it with his miraculous patronage.” Xavier was swift in responding to the pleas of the faithful, this chronicler continued, spurring the dispatch of a massive Mughal army from northern India to make war upon the Marathas, who would in turn sue for peace with the Portuguese.63 62. Anon. Jesuit author, Annual Letter for the Province of Goa for 1647, Goa, January 5, 1648, ARSI Goa 34–I:215v. 63. Sousa, Oriente Conquistado, 1:663. Further on this episode is in Dauril Alden, The Making of an Enterprise: The Jesuits in Portugal, Its Empire, and Beyond, 1540–1750 (Stanford, 1996), pp. 197–203. LIAM MATTHEW BROCKEY 63 FIGURE 4. Exterior view of the Bom Jesus church in Goa, India.Velha Goa, or Old Goa, was dismantled in the late-eighteenth/early-nineteenth century, leaving only a few historic churches. Photo courtesy Martin Jann. In light of the many miracles that Xavier had performed on behalf of Portuguese India and its Catholic inhabitants, his lay devotees were zealous guardians of his shrine. Popular piety could indeed be a threatening presence, one that the Goa Jesuits had to manage with care. Recall the crowds who forced the first exposition in 1554, as well as those who crowded the Bom Jesus in 1611, and during the viewings held on Xavier’s feast day after his canonization. It was for this reason that the Jesuits took care to use discretion when showing the body to special visitors in the second half of the seventeenth century. Gemelli Careri had his viewing in the morning hours, behind closed doors, as did the group led by Francesco Maria Spinola in 1694. In fact, Bayard noted that rumor and fear were provoked as soon as Spinola made known his orders, direct from the papacy, to inspect the body. “The legate did not dare to make his inspection during the day,” Bayard reported, “out of fear that some unfortunate occurrence might spark furor among the people if they tried to go near the box.” And so Spinola, and his company of Jesuits and noblemen, postponed their inspection for two weeks and only then carried out their task “an hour after midnight.”64 64. Jean Simon Bayard to Jesuit Companions in France, Goa, [1694], in Monumenta Xaveriana, 2:777. 64 THE RELICS OF FRANCIS XAVIER IN EARLY-MODERN ASIA By the end of the seventeenth century, Xavier’s incorrupt body was understood by some to represent the fate of the Portuguese Estado da Índia itself. Just as the empire seemed withered and lifeless, its preservation was a miracle. There was no more eloquent spokesman of this view than Francisco de Sousa (1649–1712), a Brazil-born Jesuit who spent most of his life in Goa, who ended his account of Xavier’s relics with the following summary in 1697: Xavier traveled in body and soul over immense oceans and most remote lands. He descended in the form of a pilgrim from heaven to earth; and even his body, already dead and without a soul, wandered from Shangchuan to Malacca, from Malacca to Goa, from one grave to another, changing tombs, coffins, cubicles, rooms, and chapels. And because it is still suspected that it will travel further still (something God will not permit out of his Divine mercy), it lays at present in an inner tomb with wheels so that it can be removed more easily from its silver mausoleum, and navigate to Lisbon as the last relic of the Portuguese Empire in the Orient. But I trust in his miraculous patronage that the wheels will only serve to move him with greater promptness and speed to rescue Índia, because such pitiful ruins demand swift remedy.65 True to these early-modern hopes, the wheels have not taken the relics far. The body remains in its chapel at the Bom Jesus Church in Goa where it can be seen by tourists and pilgrims alike. For most of the past century, there has been a tradition of holding solemn expositions of the body—that is, displays of the relics in only a glass enclosure—once every ten years. For those desiring to get closer to the body than most early moderns, whether Jesuits or lay folk, ever did, the expositions are scheduled to continue; the most recent was held from November 22, 2014, to January 4, 2015. 65. Sousa, Oriente Conquistado, 1:686. Approval for the printing of Sousa’s work was given in 1697 in Goa, although it would only pass inspection in Lisbon in 1708 and not printed until 1710. See ibid., “Liçencas,” front matter, n.pag. Seeing Prussia through Austrian Eyes: The Kölner Ereignis and Its Significance for Church and State in Central Europe SCOTT BERG* In 1837 Prussia arrested Clemens August Droste zu Vischering, archbishop of Cologne, in a dispute over mixed marriages. This event, known as the Kölner Ereignis (The Cologne Incident), ignited protests and riots for more than a year and re-energized Catholicism in Germany. Examining the Kölner Ereignis reveals that, in contrast to Prussia, Austria was a nonconfessional state. Rooted in the Enlightenment, its church system had legitimacy and stability for its subjects. Comparing the two German powers in the Kölner Ereignis sheds light on this event and important features of these two states that tend to be overshadowed by later developments, most notably the Reichsgründung. Keywords: Metternich, Cologne Troubles, Kölner Wirren, mixed marriage, Kolowrat O n the evening of November 20, 1837 Archbishop Clemens August Droste zu Vischering of Cologne (see figure 1) was in his workroom, in his nightgown, when four men stormed in. The leader of this intrusion was the Oberpräsident of the Rhineland, Ernst von Bodelschwingh, who informed the archbishop that by order from King Frederick William III, he was to be conveyed to the fortress of Minden. The arresting officers gave the archbishop an hour to put his affairs in order, while several wagons and a military escort awaited Clemens August and his vicar, Eduard Michaelis. *Mr. Berg is a doctoral candidate at Louisiana State University, email: scottm.berg@ gmail.com. Earlier versions of this article were reviewed and received suggestions from numerous individuals. The author would like to thank panelists and commentators at the Consortium on the Revolutionary Era in 2012 as well as the annual meeting of the American Catholic Historical Association for their remarks. Suzanne Marchand also read numerous drafts and provided necessary feedback. James Brophy’s extensive commentary on an earlier draft sharpened the argument immensely. In addition, the anonymous reviewers of The Catholic Historical Review provided helpful comments. Finally, financial support from the Louisiana State University History Department, the Society for Central European History, and the Botstiber Foundation facilitated access to archival sources in Vienna and Budapest. 48 SCOTT BERG 49 FIGURE 1. Clement August Droste zu Vischering, archbishop of Cologne. Image from Clemens August, Freiherr von Droste zu Vischering, Erzbischof von Cöln: nebst einem Anhange: Interessante Charakterzüge und einige bisher ungedruckte Gedichte des Verstorbenen (Xanten, Germany, 1845), frontispiece. A crowd gathered and as the wagons rolled away with the clergymen, Michaelis shouted to the people, “praise be to Jesus Christ.”1 Far from solving Prussia’s conflict with the Catholic Church on mixed marriages and the removal of heretical teachings at the universities, this arrest and the ensuing reaction, known as the Kölner Ereignis (Cologne Incident) or the Kölner Wirren (Cologne Troubles) sparked an uproar across central Europe that forced Prussia to make ample concessions to the Church. Furthermore, this event marked the absolutist extreme of Prussia’s erratic policy toward the Catholic Church—an open battle with the Catholic Church, as the Prussian government struggled to incorporate Catholics into a Protestant-dominated country. This battle injected vigor 1. The most reliable account can be found in Markus Hänsel-Hohenhausen, Clemens August Freiherr Droste zu Vischering, Erzbischof von Köln 1773–1845: Die moderne Kirchenfreiheit im Konflikt mit dem Nationalstaat, 2 vols. (Egelsback bei Frankfurt, 1991), 2:989–95. Another account comes from General Ernst von Pfuel’s report on the event; see Friedrich Keinemann, Quellen, in Das Kölner Ereignis: Sein Widerhall in der Rheinprovinz und in Westfalen, 2 Teil Quellen (Münster, 1974), pp. 60–64. 50 SEEING PRUSSIA THROUGH AUSTRIAN EYES into the Church and pulled Catholicism out of its political stagnation. The Church should have been a source of stability for the conservative order in Prussia, but these factors ensured that instability would ensue when Church and state clashed. Significantly, the turmoil in Cologne had ramifications throughout Central Europe, causing Habsburg officials to fear the spread of disorder. But such an outcome did not occur in the Austrian Empire, as Austria had a stable Church rooted in Josephinist tradition and a nonconfessional state that enabled the Habsburg Empire to weather the storms of religious rancor. A comparison of the two powers in Central Europe, Austria and Prussia, in the Kölner Ereignis not only provides a fuller picture of the event but also illustrates important features of both states in the Vormärz that tend to be overshadowed by developments leading to the Kaiserreich in 1871.2 It is understandable why the Prussian government would assume that moving against the Church would be an easy affair. Catholicism had suffered a series of blows since the middle of the eighteenth century—including the Enlightenment, the French Revolution, and the absolutism of the Vormärz. The Enlightenment had questioned the core of Catholic doctrine. The French Revolution had leveled the Church, and the secularization of ecclesiastical property in Germany had gone uncontested. The French had entered the Rhineland in 1792, taking Mainz, and occupied the left bank of the Rhine in 1794. The French introduced the revolutionary calendar in 1798, instituted secular state holidays, banned public religious symbols and processions, and replaced the teaching of religion with ethics.3 Arrangements at Basel, Rastatt, the Peace of Lunéville, and the Reichsdeputationshauptschluss had, by 1803, abolished the ecclesiastical states and compensated German princes who had lost territory west of the Rhine. The largest German states, Austria and Prussia, had given their blessing to this secularization. East of the Rhine, Prussia received compensation for its territories lost on the left bank of the Rhine, implemented a state takeover of churches, and supplied monks with pensions. This plundering by German princes elicited little protest from ecclesiastical officials or the pope.4 The Congress of Vienna confirmed Prussia’s annexation of the Rhineland, with the left bank reverting to the staunchly Protestant Prussian monarch. 2. James J. Sheehan was critical of the Reichsgründung’s domination of nineteenth-century German history in “What Is German History? Reflections on the Role of the Nation in German History and Historiography,” Journal of Modern History, 53 (1981), 1–23. 3. Eduard Hegel, Zwischen Barock und Aufklärung vom Pfälaischen Krieg bis zum Ende der Französischen Zeit 1688–1814, in Das Erzbistum Köln, Vol. IV (Cologne, 1979), p. 488. 4. Hegel, Das Erzbistum Köln, p. 508. SCOTT BERG 51 Catholic subjects in the Rhineland chafed under Prussian rule, but the area remained peaceful as discontent about the subtle “Protestantization” of the Rhineland was nothing more than grumbling. The provincial Stände (Estates) of Westphalia bemoaned, for example, in 1833 the violation of the freedom of conscience for Catholic soldiers, who were forced to attend Protestant services once a month by the Prussian army.5 Ordinary Rhinelanders grumbled that they were slaves, complaining that the regional governments and the bureaucracy were Protestants favoring Prussia’s established church.6 The Prussian government attributed these disturbances and others such as the smuggling of the anti-Prussian Beiträge zur Kirchengeschichte des 19 Jahrhunderts (known as the “Red Book”) to a few fanatical firebrands in Belgium, who wished to separate the Church from the state as had occurred in 1830 in Belgium.7 Yet these attacks on Catholicism were subtle, and the clergy were unwilling to challenge the state. The government of Düsseldorf’s report on the Aachen consistory noted, for example, in 1836 that the clergy was obedient and unwilling to stir up dissatisfaction against the government.8 The archbishops agreed with the state on issues such as banning processions in 1825 and participated in restricting pilgrimages, which the clergy viewed as a distraction from Mass and an opportunity for immoral behavior.9 There was, furthermore, a potential controversy developing in Rhenish Catholicism as the teachings of Georg Hermes (1775–1831) became popular among many educated Rhinelanders and a few clergymen. Hermes was a Kantian who argued for a positive theology, positing that faith begins with doubt and becomes true when one is convinced of it in the mind.10 His teachings had the blessing of Archbishop Ferdinand August von 5. Westphalian Provincial Stande on the question of Catholic military service, December 27, 1833, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:4–5. 6. Coblenz Councilman Brüggemann on the effects of supposed preference for Protestant communities in the Rhineland, 1837 (no exact date given), in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:22–26. 7. For a sample of reports showing the Prussian government’s fear of Belgian influence, see the interior minister’s reports of March 24, 1837, and September 10, 1837, to Berlin, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:32–34, 47–52. For information on subversive Belgian literature in the Rhineland, see James M. Brophy, Popular Culture and the Public Sphere in the Rhineland 1800–1850 (Cambridge, UK, 2007), pp. 270–80. 8. Administration report of the Aachen consistory council, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:18–20. 9. Brophy, Popular Culture and the Public Sphere, pp. 260–61. 10. Rudolf Lill, Die Beilegung der Kölner Wirren 1840–1842: Vorwiegend nach Aken des Vaitkanischen Geheimarchivs (Düsseldorf, 1962), p. 22. 52 SEEING PRUSSIA THROUGH AUSTRIAN EYES Spiegel (r. 1824–35) of Cologne, and the government hoped Hermes’s teachings would spread and bind the Catholic population more closely to Prussia. This issue had, however, little resonance among the Catholic masses, and the pope’s condemnation of Hermes in 1835 meant that these teachings would eventually decline.11 It was, in fact, the mixed-marriage policy of Frederick William III, which constituted the true reason for the escalating tension between Clemens August, the archbishop after 1835, and the state.12 In 1803 Frederick William III declared that children of mixed marriages would be raised in the religion of the father. This order strongly favored Protestantism because the parties in the vast majority of mixed marriages were Protestant soldiers, Protestant bureaucrats from Prussia who had settled into the Rhineland, and local Catholic women. This measure applied initially to Prussia’s eastern provinces, but in 1825 the government transmitted it to the Rhineland. After feuding between the clergy and the state over this issue, Pius VIII (1829–30) issued a brief in 1830 allowing for passive assistance of the clergy in mixed marriages when the couple refused to promise to raise all children as Catholics. Yet, Prussia was not satisfied, and in 1834 the moderate archbishop, Ferdinand August, concluded a secret convention allowing priests to perform mixed marriages in all cases unless the couple displayed extreme indifference toward religion in general.13 Pope Gregory XVI (1830–46) discovered this agreement in 1836 and decided the time had arrived for open battle with the Prussian government. News about the secret convention made its way to Rome in 1836 when Joseph von Hommer, bishop of Trier, confessed to acceding to this agreement as a sin on his deathbed and wrote an unofficial letter to Rome to this effect.14 Rome viewed this accord as shameful and chose a path of obstinacy so that a crisis with Prussia would be provoked.15 It would be easy to place the Prussian state in the wrong on this issue because mixed marriages 11. The papacy would excommunicate more German professors in the nineteenth century than any other group of Catholics; see Owen Chadwick, A History of the Popes 1830–1914 (Oxford, 1998), p. 42. 12. Franz Schnabel labeled mixed marriages the most important issue dividing Protestants and Catholics; see Deutsche Geschichte im Neunzehnten Jahrhundert: 4: Die Religiösen Kräfte (Freiburg, 1951), p. 121. 13. Lill, Die Beilegung der Kölner Wirren, pp. 32–34. 14. A version of Bishop Hommer’s letter can be found in Joseph Görres, Athanasius (1838), in Schriften zum Kölner Ereignis ed. Heinz Hürten (Paderborn, 1998), pp. 58–59. 15. Heinrich Schrörs, Die Kölner Wirren: Studien zu ihrer Geschichte (Berlin, 1927), p. 470. SCOTT BERG 53 were, for the most part, unpopular, and this subject had resonance among the Rhenish population. The Prussians blundered in 1835 when they appointed Clemens August as the successor to Ferdinand August. Ferdinand August had been a member of the Enlightenment generation who accepted a more flexible version of the Church vis-à-vis the state, and although Clemens August was of the same generation, he had always adhered to a more rigid Catholicism.16 Clemens August attacked Hermes’s followers, particularly among the faculty at the University of Bonn, and broke his promise to adhere to the convention of 1834.17 The archbishop began insisting, in 1837, that the Church could not bless mixed marriages without an oath, called the Reverse, to raise all children in the Catholic faith. In addition, he argued that the purpose of the convention had been to make Pius’s brief applicable in the Rhineland, not to render it ineffective. He said he would give priority to the papacy when it clashed with the accord.18 After these acts of defiance, Prussia demanded his resignation and, when Clemens August refused, arrested him in 1837, along with Marcin von Dunin Sulgostowski, the archbishop of Posen. The arrest and the subsequent reactions put the state on the defensive against the Church and injected German Catholicism with an energy that it had not known for generations. The papal allocution on December 10, 1837, shocked the Prussian foreign ministry, which had not expected such a strong reaction from a papacy in the process of reinvigoration.19 The 16. Hänsel-Hohenhausen, Clemens August Freiherr Droste zu Vischering, pp. 158–59. 17. Ferdinand von Galen on Droste-Vischering’s stance on the Berlin Convention, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:15. It is debatable how much Clemens August knew about the convention. 18. Schrörs, Die Kölner Wirren, p. 474. 19. Ironically, the papacy was strengthened by the abolition of the ecclesiastical states in western Germany and the destruction of the Gallican Church in France. The papacy was the sole temporal ecclesiastical dominion in 1815, and there were fewer checks on its authority in the Church; see Catholicism Contending with Modernity: Roman Catholic Modernism and Anti-Modernism in Historical Context, ed. Darrell Jodock (Cambridge, UK, 2000), p. 60. The consequences of the ascendant ultramontanism in Prussia was that the hitherto “useless formality” of giving an oath to raise children in the Catholic faith before entering a mixed marriage became subject to criticism as ultramontanists demanded strict observance of Catholic doctrine; see Tillmann Bendikowski, Eine Fackel der Zwietracht: Katholische-Protestantische Mischehen im 19 und 20 Jahrhundert, in Konfessionen im Konflikt: Deutschland zwischen 1800 und 1970: ein zweites konfessionelles Zeitalter, ed. Olaf Blaschke (Göttingen, 2002), p. 223. For information on how the Church modernized and centralized in conjunction with ultramontanism, see Michael Ebertz,“Ein Haus voll Glorie schauet…” Modernisierungsprozesse der römische-katholischen Kirche im 19 Jahrhundert, in Religion und Gesellschaft im 19. Jahrhundert, ed. Wolfgang Schieder (Stuttgart, 1993). 54 SEEING PRUSSIA THROUGH AUSTRIAN EYES allocution sharply argued that mixed marriages were the reason for the Prussian state’s inappropriate and forceful intervention in the sacraments of the Church.20 The result was disorder in the Rhineland for more than a year and unity of Rhenish Catholics against the Protestant monarch. Petitions now spoke of a deep betrayal by the government21 and portrayed past compromises such as the convention of 1834 as an embarrassment.22 In a show of support for the archbishop, churches filled with Catholics long absent from Mass.23 Sermons made analogies between Clemens August and St. Peter’s persecution, and at Mass priests said prayers for the archbishop.24 As early as January 1838, George, Lord Russell (the English ambassador in Berlin), noted that Prussia was “losing that hold she was beginning to assume over Germany.”25 Newspaper reports placed officials such as Johann Brüggemann, a school administrator in Coblenz, on the defensive. Brüggemann found himself refuting rumors that he was the product of a mixed marriage, which had become taboo. In Paderborn and other places, riots erupted as rumors spread about further persecution of the Church. In January 1838, Paderborn residents took to the streets in protest of a rumor that local clergyman Father Henricus would be arrested and sent to Berlin. Despite governmental denials of these rumors, throngs of people crowded the streets and shouted, “long live Henricus.”26 In Cologne, rumors that firebrand priest Johann Beckers was on the verge of arrest sparked a riot in October 1838 at the house of a chapter priest, Dean Filz, who opposed the ultramontanists. Beckers had given sermons against the government, which grew more intense after a second papal allocution in September. The mob 20. Schrörs, Die Kölner Wirren, pp. 549–51. 21. Rhenish Petition concerning the arrest of the archbishop, late 1837, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:88–89. 22. Count Trauttmannsdorff to Prince Metternich, February 19, 1838, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:169. 23. F.E. Voß to the Crown Prince, February 28, 1838, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:92–93; letter to Count Münch on the effects of the Kölner Ereignis in the Rhineland, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:156. 24. Commissioner von Wolff-Metternich’s report of November 28, 1837, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:100. 25. Lord Russell on the crisis in Prussia, January 24, 1838, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:137. 26. The January 7–8 accounts of police commissioner Brosent and other citizens are similar in their descriptions of this riot; see Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:144–48. SCOTT BERG 55 destroyed Filz’s house and forced him to flee.27 Similar scenes occurred in cities across the Rhineland in 1838. One place with particularly harsh reactions was Münster, where the strong ultramontanist movement was eager for a fight with the state. Only a few weeks after the arrest of Clemens August, riots broke out in Münster, which the government blamed on the local clergy, and seventeen people were wounded when the military cleared the town.28 That August, the town residents commemorated Frederick William III’s birthday by ignoring the parades in his honor and desecrating a bust of the monarch.29 The government asked Kaspar Max Droste zu Vischering, bishop of Münster and brother of Clemens August, to urge moderation among his clergymen as a calming influence on the area, but the bishop insisted that the attempted de-Catholicization by Protestants had caused the riots and that the deeprooted dissatisfaction was simply coming to the surface.30 When Clemens August regained freedom of movement in 1841 under the new king, Frederick William IV, the archbishop traveled through Münster, where he heard songs sung in his honor and received a torchlight procession.31 More important, a Catholic press emerged from this event. In early 1838 the Catholic publicist32 Joseph Görres, working safely from Munich, wrote Athanasius, invoking in his title the esteemed Rome-supporting bishop of Alexandria who had defied a heretical emperor. In this work, which Thomas Nipperdey labeled the founding document of political Catholicism, Görres called for an unqualified defense of the archbishop of Cologne.33 He defended the archbishop’s actions, arguing that Clemens 27. Report in Augsburger Allgemeine Zeitung, November 1, 1838, p. 2349; Augsburger Allgemeine Zeitung, November 2, 1838, p. 2446; see also Brophy, Popular Culture and the Public Sphere in the Rhineland, pp. 253–54. 28. Report of the Bürgermeister, December 11, 1837, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:122, 126. 29. Report of the Leipziger Allgemeine Zeitung of August 11, 1838, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:217. 30. Answer of the Bishop of Münster, November 12, 1839, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:288–89. 31. Report of the Westphalian Merkurs of August 17, 1841, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:327, 330. 32. It is difficult to label Görres because, as Jon Vanden Heuvel writes “[Archbishop of Trier] Clemens Wenzeslaus’s reaction against the Enlightenment in the 1790s had made Görres a republican, Napoleon turned him into a nationalist, Prussia made him a Catholic, and liberalism made him a conservative”; see Jon Vanden Heuvel, A German Life in the Age of Revolution: Joseph Görres, 1776–1848 (Washington, DC, 2001), p. 365. 33. Thomas Nipperdey, Deutsche Geschichte, 1800–1866 (Munich, 1983), p. 419. 56 SEEING PRUSSIA THROUGH AUSTRIAN EYES August was fully justified in enforcing the laws of the Church, which the state had trampled.34 Görres cited the Treaty of Westphalia, which he claimed had guaranteed freedom of conscience, as well as freedom of religion, arguing that recent innovations were foreign ones from the French Revolution.35 He noted that church law was divine and thus legitimate, whereas secular law, as it had developed since the Reformation, was arbitrary.36 For this reason, he strongly condemned Protestants for putting the state above ecclesiastical institutions and enacting laws of purely human origin. Finally he attacked the absolutist state, in exhilarating language, for violating the rights of Catholics (arguing that bureaucrats were allied with revolutionaries in their hatred for the Church) and writing that the Church was not the maid in the house of the state.37 Athanasius ensured that the controversy over the arrest of Clemens August did not fade away, and it provided the first sustained response to the challenges posed by the enlightened, absolutist state to Catholicism. In addition, in the wake of the controversy, Görres helped found the periodical Historisch-Politische Blätter für das Katholische Deutschland, which tapped into popular Catholic anger and pledged to “fight the revolutionary as well as the despotic doctrine of false state wisdom.”38 This journal continued many of the themes of Athanasius such as showing that Prussian bureaucrats—not the ultramontanists, as the Prussian government had claimed—were the true revolutionaries. Görres and the other contributors claimed that Protestantism was a tool of absolutist governments, which together formed the root of revolution.39 The journal argued that the French Revolution was not an isolated incident, but it had been the “bloody fruit” of centuries of political atheism since the Reformation.40 It contributed, naturally, commentary on the Kölner Ereignis, denouncing Protestant revivalist papers such as the Berliner Kirchenzeitung for keeping silent on the controversy, focusing on heretical teachings at the university, and ignoring the mixed-marriage debate that favored Catholics.41 It defended the right of the pope to select an administrator to run the Diocese of 34. Görres, Athanasius, p. 42. 35. Ibid., p. 27. 36. Ibid., p. 50. 37. Ibid., pp. 37–38. 38. Heuvel, A German Life in the Age of Revolution, p. 347. 39. “Ueber die gegenwärtige Stellung der katholischen Kirche zu den von ihr getrennten Confessionen,” Historisch-Politisch Blätter, 1838, 1:46. 40. “Joseph II und seine Zeit,” in Historisch-Politisch Blätter, 1839, 3:131. 41. “Ueber die gegenwärtige Stellung der katholischen Kirche zu den von ihr getrennten Confessionen,”Historisch-Politisch Blätter, 1838, 1:39. SCOTT BERG 57 Cologne. After the archbishop was taken away, the chapter selected Dr. Johann Husgen. The journal condemned this election as contrary to canon law, noting that when Pius VII had been imprisoned by Napoleon, the pope still intervened in the affairs of bishoprics.42 The journal also contained book reviews, essays defending Catholic history, letters of people who converted to Catholicism, and articles exuding nostalgia for the medieval union of Church and state. Other voices joined with Görres to condemn the actions of the Prussian state such as Die Neue Würzburger Zeitung, which accused Protestant and liberal papers such as the Leipziger Allgemeine Zeitung of being servile instruments of princes and liberal bureaucrats.43 The reason for the erratic policy in Prussia and the outbreak of disorder was that Prussia’s church policy lacked legitimacy, a concept deployed by conservative rulers in the Restoration, and used against them, as can be seen in this case, by Rhenish Catholics. As Christopher Clark argues, Frederick William III aimed to be the foremost Protestant prince in the German Confederation.44 Clark writes that the establishment of the Prussian Union Church in 1817 was a step toward this goal. He compares this arrangement to the slew of concordats that states signed with Rome after 1815 to legitimate state power, noting that Frederick William was tapping into a “well-spring of legitimation” among Protestants by abandoning confessional neutrality.45 However, this strategy backfired in the Rhineland where Rhenish Catholics obviously could not find the legitimacy of their new Prussian king in Protestantism. A precedent of confessional equality, however ambiguous, had been established in Germany over the years, dating back to the Peace of Westphalia and strengthened in the Enlightenment, which had questioned rigid dogma and praised toleration.46 Furthermore, article XVI of the Constitution of the German Confederation 42. “Litterature. Das Metropolitancapitel zu Köln in seinem Rechte oder Verhalten desselben und seine Verhandlung mit dem apostolischen Stuhle in der erzbischöflichen Sache. Eine kanonistische Abhandlung. Köln 1838,” in Historisch-Politisch Blätter, 1838, 2:167–68. 43. The Neue Würzburger Zeitung, April 7, 1838, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:181–82. 44. Christopher Clark, “The Napoleonic Moment in Prussian Church Policy,” in Napoleon’s Legacy, ed. Daven Laven and Lucy Riall (Oxford, 2000), pp. 225–36, here p. 225. 45. Clark, “The Napoleonic Moment in Prussian Church Policy,” p. 230. 46. Georg Schmidt, “Die frühneuzeitliche Idee ‘deutsche Nation’: Mehrkonfessionalität und säkulare Werte,” in Nation und Religion in der deutschen Geschichte, ed. Heinz-Gerhard Haupt and Dieter Langewiesche (New York, 2001). Schmidt argues that multiconfessionalism and freedom of conscious became standard after the Treaty of Westphalia with the idea of a Germany divided along confessional lines emanating from Prussian propaganda in the late-eighteenth century. 58 SEEING PRUSSIA THROUGH AUSTRIAN EYES stipulated equal political and civil rights for the different Christian confessions. Not only did Prussia violate these precedents, it did so in a manner that appeared erratic. To illustrate this point, a comparison is necessary of the religious policies of Prussia with Austria in the Vormärz. In Austria, the Church chafed under the same restrictions as in Prussia. In both countries, communication between the clergy and the papacy had to go, for example, through Berlin or Vienna. The Habsburgs prohibited students from studying in Rome, forced students of theology to use works placed on the Index by the papacy, sharply restricted pilgrimages, reassigned the sacrament of marriage to the state, and viewed the Jesuits and other orders with mistrust. Görres condemned Austria’s Church policy in Athanasius, and ultramontanists had to flee to places such as Belgium if they wanted to be activists.47 Yet, despite these similarities, Austria’s Church differed from Prussia’s in that it had, for the Habsburgs’ subjects, legitimacy and stability, anchored in the reforms of Joseph II (1780–90). Joseph had ended the Counter Reformation in 1780,48 removing the most onerous restrictions on Protestants, and implemented a series of ambitious reforms such as cutting off the Austrian Church from Rome, making marriage a state matter, controlling clerical education, dissolving monasteries, and instituting the renowned Edict of Toleration. These proactive reforms, instituted by a reformist Catholic emperor, obviated the need for revolutionary remedies and formed the foundation for the stable Vormärz Church in Austria. Furthermore, Austria attempted to maintain a stance of confessional neutrality and refused to use Catholicism to generate support and unity for the Habsburg Empire. For Austria, the religious question was settled. Austria was one of the few Catholic states that did not sign a concordat with the pope in the Vormärz because its Josephinist system was repulsive to the papacy, and Austria did not need legitimation for its Church from Rome. Unlike the clumsy persecution of Catholicism attempted by Prussia, Austria suc47. Görres, Athanasius, p. 114. Austria also did not escape criticism in the HistorischPolitisch Blätter with articles such as “Hurter’s Reise Nach Österreich,” which argued, for example, that Austria had strayed from its conservative Catholic mission, in Historisch-Politische Blätter, 1839, 3:265. 48. Upon taking the throne in 1780, Joseph rescinded the Religionspatent of 1778, which had prohibited non-Catholics from owning land or settling in Austria or Bohemia, denied Protestants the right to educate their children and mandated flogging for apostasy. He also abolished the private fund used by Maria Theresa to pay subjects to convert to Catholicism and ended Catholic missions into Protestant lands; see Derek Beales, Against the World 1780–1790, in Joseph II (New York, 2009), 2:168–78. SCOTT BERG 59 cessfully moved Church functions to the state realm and staffed these positions with loyal bureaucrats educated by the state. Jonathan Sperber has written that, in the German Vormärz, religious life49 had been shattered without any replacement; but in Austria, Joseph’s Church from the Enlightenment had survived unscathed by revolutionary upheaval.50 Austria’s method of dealing with the contentious issue of mixed marriages was rooted in the Josephinist tradition—and in proactive reforms instituted by a Catholic monarch—and was therefore much more difficult to challenge as illegitimate. In Austria, the foundations of marriage law were the Edict of Toleration of 1781 and the Marriage Patent of 1783. Article six of the Toleration Patent required Catholic fathers in a mixed marriage to raise their children in the Catholic faith. When the father was Protestant, as was usually the case, the sons followed the religion of the father, and the mother raised the daughters as Catholics. The Marriage Patent defined matrimony as a civil contract and applied state jurisdiction to all marriages. In 1811 the Allgemeines bürgerliches Gesetzbuch (ABGB), Austria’s civil code, codified Joseph’s marriage laws. The ABGB was a modern law book established without regard for canon law, and its articles dealing with marriage dictated that a couple, assuming they had no hindrances, needed two witnesses in front of a priest to marry, although Jews could go before a synagogue leader and Protestants could bring their preacher to a mixed-marriage ceremony.51 As a blend of civil and religious marriage, it was ambiguous enough not to cause hard feelings among devout Catholics or more liberal, reform-oriented Austrians. Prussia’s marriage policy, in contrast, appeared as blatant proselytizing of Protestantism. The mixed-marriage provision in the Allgemeines Landrecht of 1794 stated that daughters would take the mother’s religion and sons would adopt the father’s confession. In 1803 Frederick William III ordered, however, that all children would take the father’s religion and applied it to the Rhineland in 1825, greatly benefiting Protestantism. It is thus no wonder that many Rhinelanders distrusted Prussia’s claim to be a nonconfessional state equal to all Christians. 49. Yet there is much literature to refute the idea that religious life had been destroyed at the popular level despite the damage done to the Church by 1815. Heinrich Lutz writes, for example that there was an unbroken line from the world of Barock religiosity to the nineteenth century; see Zwischen Habsburg und Preußen: Deutschland 1815–1866 (Berlin, 1985), p. 127. 50. Jonathan Sperber, “Roman Catholic Religious Identity in Rhineland-Westphalia, 1800–1870: Quantitative Examples and Some Political Implications,” Social History, 7 (1982), 305–18, here 317. 51. Johannes Mühlsteiger, Der Geist des Josephinischen Eherechtes, (Vienna, 1967), p. 165. 60 SEEING PRUSSIA THROUGH AUSTRIAN EYES Prussia’s crude attempt to incorporate a prosperous Catholic region into a Protestant state structure soured attempts at establishing harmonious cooperation between the monarchical state and its subjects.52 The Rhineland had retained the Napoleonic Code for civil, commercial, and criminal law and feared imposition of the Prussia Allgemeines Landrecht.53 The imposition of Prussian marriage laws favoring Protestantism onto the Rhineland (except the left bank) agitated these sensibilities. Many Rhinelanders also feared Prussian militarism and distrusted Prussian garrisons placed in the Rhineland.54 Finally, Prussian attempts to chip away at French law, such as the 1836 and 1837 laws exempting Rhenish nobility from French legislation, ensured that the political tensions were already enflamed when Prussian police arrested Clemens August.55 The removal of the archbishop by force and without a trial or legal justification appeared to many liberals to embody the worst of overbearing Prussian despotism. The Prussian ambassador to Rome, Christian Charles Josias von Bunsen, tried to excuse his government’s action by claiming that Clemens August was not removed from office—an action only the Church could undertake—but rather was undergoing an administrative procedure (Administratives Verfahren).56 Many liberals opposed this arbitrary action and sided with the Church. The abolition of tithes and the politically tame Catholicism of the Vormärz had eliminated many disagreements between liberals and the Church.57 Heinrich von Gagern, a liberal Protestant, condemned Prussia for what he viewed as a violent act of illegal imprisonment, although he feared ultramontanists would exploit 52. Matthew Levinger writes that Prussian reformers only thought subjects and the monarch could be unified if they realized their common interests; see Enlightened Nationalism: The Transformation of the Prussian Political Culture, 1806–1848 (Oxford, 2000), p. 20. 53. Jonathan Sperber, “Echoes of the French Revolution in the Rhineland, 1830– 1849,” Central European History, 22 (1989), 200–17, here 201. 54. Michael Rowe, “The Napoleonic Legacy in the Rhineland and the Politics of Reform in Restoration Prussia,” in Napoleon’s Legacy, ed. Daven Laven and Lucy Riall (Oxford, 2000), pp. 129–50, here p. 137. 55. Rowe, “The Napoleonic Legacy in the Rhineland and the Politics of Reform in Restoration Prussia,” p. 140. 56. Schrörs, Die Kölner Wirren, p. 506. 57. It should be noted, however, that not all liberals sided with the Church on this issue. The liberal Johann Friedrich Benzenberg wrote, for example, “Der Erzbischof in Cöln,” which defended the Prussian state and argued that mixed marriages, however harmful they might be, had valid precedent in Prussia. He wrote that the religious settlement created during the Napoleonic Wars had been presided over by two emperors and three kings (p. 32). Many pamphlets issued during the turmoil were anonymous, making it difficult to assign the authors to particular political camps. SCOTT BERG 61 this issue.58 He spoke out against the liberal newspaper, the Leipziger Allgemeine Zeitung, accusing it of outdated Protestant zealotry.59 He appreciated the fact that public opinion had put Prussia on the defensive and disliked the idea of a state church.60 A Liberal businessman, David Hansemann, blamed the Prussian state for promoting the idea that the Prussian state was Protestant and creating bitterness in Catholic communities.61 He argued that the lack of freedom in religious affairs had engendered disbelief in Protestant communities and urged the state not to narrow the idea of Christianity to a confession.62 The Austrian approach was different. The Habsburgs had given up the Counter Reformation in 1780, and significant Protestant communities remained in upper Austria, Hungary, Silesia, and Transylvania. In Hungary, marriage laws were not subject to the ABGB. In 1791 Emperor Leopold presented the religious question to the Hungarian Diet, which passed article XXVI, over the objection of the Catholic clergy, which salvaged the Josephinist settlement.63 Article XXVI allowed mixed marriages before a priest without an oath to raise children in the Catholic faith, and prescribed that children of mixed marriages should all be Catholic if the father was Catholic, but sons could follow the father’s religion if he was not Catholic. Even in Catholic areas annexed by Austria after the Napoleonic Wars, such as northern Italy, Austria demonstrated flexibility in its policy toward the 58. Heinrich von Gagern to Hans Christoph von Gagern, February 3, 1838, in Deutscher Liberalismus im Vormärz: Heinrich von Gagern Briefe und Reden 1815–1848, ed. Paul Wentzcke and Wolfgang Klötzer (Göttingen, 1959), p. 190. 59. The Leipziger Allgemeine Zeitung (LAZ) as well as the Prussian government blamed the disorder on “fanatics.” The LAZ blamed the Münster riots, for example, on the corrupt clergy and argued that the city had a lack of education and enlightenment; see Leipziger Allgemeine Zeitung of July 19, 1838, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:212. 60. Heinrich von Gagern to Max von Gagern, December 18, 1837, in Deutscher Liberalismus im Vormärz: Briefe und Reden 1815–1848, ed. Paul Wentzcke and Wolfgang Klötzer (Göttingen, 1959), p. 186; Heinrich von Gagern to Hans Christoph von Gagern, February 23, 1828, in Deutscher Liberalismus, p. 193. 61. Denkschrift of David Hansemann, September 1840, in Rheinische Briefe und Akten zur Geschichte der Politischen Bewegung 1830–1845, ed. Joseph Hansen (Osnabrück, 1967), 1:214. 62. Denkschrift of David Hansemann, September 1840, in Rheinische Briefe, ed. Hansen, 1:264. 63. Article XXVI guaranteed religious freedom for Protestants, although in practice conservative clergymen in Hungary were able to request oaths to raise children in the Catholic faith. The Hungarian episcopacy opposed this article; see Protest of the Cardinal-Primate Joseph Battyanyi, in Die Religionswirren in Ungarn, ed. John Mailath, 2 vols. (Regensburg, 1845), 1:89–90. 62 SEEING PRUSSIA THROUGH AUSTRIAN EYES Church. In 1815, Austria attempted to impose its marriage laws in northern Italy, something neither Joseph II nor Napoleon Bonaparte had attempted.64 In Italy the pope was, however, willing to refuse confirmation of bishops and to leave dioceses vacant as gestures of resistance against Josephinism in Lombardy and Venetia.65 The Court Commission assigned with the task of incorporating northern Italy into the Habsburg monarchy concluded that the Church would never accept state marriage laws in Italy because of the pontiff’s influence there.66 In 1819 Emperor Francis finally compromised and allowed Italian bishops to visit Rome for confirmation and to seek papal dispensations for marriage disputes.67 Despite the stability of the Austrian Church, officials in the Habsburg Empire could not ignore the fact that their Church appeared to resemble the system in Prussia and feared that they, too, were sitting on a volcano of religious strife. In addition, they feared that Prussia, which was already establishing leadership in German economic affairs, was aiming to be the leader of Protestantism in Germany.68 Indeed, several signs indicated a potential crisis in Austria. Mixed marriages without oaths to raise children in the Catholic faith, accompanied by a blessing from the priest, had become common practice, but beginning in the 1830s, a few priests refused to perform mixed marriages without the oath to raise children in the Catholic faith. After the events in Cologne, a few conservative clergymen began refusing to perform mixed marriages if the couple did not give this promise.69 The Austrian government feared that it only took one clergy- 64. The papacy vigorously opposed Josephinism, especially the marriage laws. Pius VII left a bull condemning the Austrian state church unpublished, see Eduard Hosp, Die Kirche Österreichs im Vormärz 1815–1850 (Vienna, 1971), p. 242. Napoleon’s concordat of 1803 banned priests in Italy from administering the marriage sacrament whenever the union violated canon law, and Joseph did not attempt to introduce the marriage patent into Lombardy; see Stahl to Francis I, December 27, 1815, in Ferdinand Maass, Der Josephinismus: Quellen zu seiner Geschichte in Österreich: Band IV Spätjosephinismus 1790–1820 (Vienna, 1957), p. 499. 65. Alan Reinerman, Between Conflict and Cooperation, [Vol. I of Austria and the Papacy in the Age of Metternich], (Washington, DC, 1979), pp. 55–70; see also Mühlsteiger, Der Geist des Josephinischen Eherechtes, pp. 220–40. 66. Stahl to Francis I, December 27, 1815, in Maass, Der Josephinismus, 4:499. 67. Metternich to Francis, July 11, 1819, in Maass, Der Josephinismus, 4:629. 68. Metternich to Ferdinand I, May 18, 1838, in Maass, Der Josephinismus, 5:497–98. 69. One of several examples would be the refusal of the conservative Catholic bishop Sebastian Zängerle to perform any mixed marriages without a papal dispensation, see Hosp, Die Kirche Österreichs, pp. 103–04. In the archbishopric of Olmütz, in Austria, the archbishop agitated Prussian officials when he intervened in its Prussian sector of Katscher in Silesia by applying new rules proclaimed in the Rhineland that made the bishop the final arbitrator in mixed-marriage disputes; see Vienna, Haus-Hof und Staatsarchiv (hereafter HHStA), SCOTT BERG 63 man to become the next archbishop of Cologne, putting Austria in the same unfortunate situation as Prussia.70 In addition, many of the bishops’ responses to governmental inquiries about the crisis concerned Austrian officials. These bishops complained, not surprisingly, that the Austrian legal system was unreasonable and forced clergymen to act against their conscience.71 The pope’s harsh, public condemnation of the Prussian system had made it impossible to continue to ignore canon law on mixed marriages in the Habsburg Empire. In Hungary, where Habsburg absolutism failed to take hold and the Catholic clergy were organized in the Hungarian Diet, conflict erupted between Catholics and Protestants as Hungarian bishops began arguing that Pope Gregory’s allocution made performing mixed marriages difficult as a matter of conscience. The bishop, Francis Lajčák of Nagyvárad (Grosswardein), issued a pastoral letter before the meeting of the 1839 Diet, reminding his clergy that marriage was a holy sacrament, not a secular law, and advised them that the Church disapproved of mixed marriages.72 This letter ignited an intense feud between Catholics and Protestants in Hungary. Many Hungarian counties began fining priests who refused to bless mixed marriages and considered other options against the Catholic clergy. In the 1840 reports of the Hungarian-Transylvanian Court Chancellery on the counties, disputes over mixed marriages were easily the most discussed topic.73 Ladislaus Pyrker, archbishop of Erlau (Eger), gave a dramatic speech in the 1844 Diet, challenging the government to turn the clergy into martyrs by forcing them to perform mixed marriages against their conscience. He argued that such overreach by the government would bring about a Catholic reaction as had happened in the Rhineland after the Cologne Affair.74 Despite these ominous signs, the Habsburg monarchy had a stable structure that could resolve such problems without civil disorder. As a Altenstein to Merckel, April 29, 1838, Konferenzakten (KA) 41, 1841, no. 558. For a more comprehensive list of refused marriages, see Jüstel to Ferdinand, July 1840, HHStA, KA 43, 1840, no. 1312. 70. Pilgram to Metternich, January 1839, HHStA, KA 46, 1841, no. 558. 71. Jüstel to Ferdinand, July 1840, HHStA, KA 43, 1840, no. 1312. 72. Pastoral letter of Francis Lajčák, bishop of Grosswardein, March 13, 1839, Die Religionswirren in Ungarn, 1:107–09. 73. See Magyar Országos Levéltár: Obuda (Hungarian National Archives: Obuda), Informations-Protocolle der Ungarisch-Siebenbürgischen, A-105, 31652 (1840). 74. Speech of Archbishop Pyrker at the 53rd Sitting of the Magnates, September 29, 1843, in Die Religionswirren in Ungarn, 2:431–32. 64 SEEING PRUSSIA THROUGH AUSTRIAN EYES result, Austria did not have to turn rebellious clergymen into martyrs by arresting them and thus did not create conditions in which ultramontanism could flourish. On the other side, Protestants in the Habsburg Empire could appeal to the Josephinist traditions, such as article XXVI for Hungary or the ban on oaths to raise children in the Catholic faith laid out in the Toleration Patent, whereas couples denied permission to marry by the clergy cited these precedents in their petitions to the government. In response to these questions, Klemens Wenzel von Metternich and Franz Anton von Kolowrat-Liebsteinsky, the two dominant members of the state conference governing Austria after the death of Francis I in 1835, created a committee in 1838 to investigate approaches for resolving the mixedmarriage crisis. They solicited opinions from bishops and legal experts across the empire throughout 1838 and 1839, hoping to design a marriage policy that would respect the rights of all recognized groups in the Habsburg lands as well as the conscience of the clergy. Officials debated the best way to resolve the potential crisis without offending anyone’s conscience. Bureaucrats such as Kolowrat held substantial influence in Austria and worried about offending Protestant sensibilities. Protestants, Kolowrat argued, would have good reason to dread the sudden abandonment of a system that the monarchy had observed for half a century and urged the rejection of changes to the marriage law.75 As a result of this sentiment and legal obligations, Hungary and Transylvania were handled separately from decisions affecting mixed marriages in German Austria.76 In these committee meetings on how to resolve the controversy, disputes developed over interpretation of the Edict of Toleration and the ABGB because the latter assigned priests to perform mixed marriages. It had made this assignment, however, with the idea that the priest was a state employee, but did not specify if his role was passive or active in performing the marriage.77 Legal officials and Kolowrat preferred having mixed marriages carried out before non-Catholic ministers whenever a priest refused. Kolowrat also contended that forcing mixed couples to take oaths on how to raise their children would result in unrest and family ruptures. Unless the state was willing to assert total control over family affairs, take away children, and assume the cost of raising them, there was no realistic way to enforce promises to raise children in the Catholic faith. Kolowrat even quoted the Bible, using 1 Corinthians 7:14, 75. Kolowrat to Ferdinand, January 9, 1839, HHStA, KA 46, 1841, no. 558. 76. Metternich to members of the Staatskonferenz, July 1838, HHStA, KA 46, 1841, no. 558; see also Maass, Der Josephinismus, 5:500–04. 77. Mühlsteiger, Der Geist des Josephinischen Eherechtes, p. 168. SCOTT BERG 65 which stated that St. Paul performed mixed marriages between believers and nonbelievers. Religious differences were, therefore, not an impediment to marriage.78 Metternich wanted a marriage policy that would please everyone and be aligned with the individual conscience, although he leaned toward restoring freedoms lost in the Josephinist reforms to the Catholic Church. He was a man of the Enlightenment and had not lived a particularly pious life, but as foreign minister, he wanted the moral backing of the papacy for the Restoration order.79 He thought it was unreasonable to expect the pope to grant more authority to Austrian bishops, such as dispensations for mixed marriages, when they routinely had to break the laws of the Church. He opposed the solution of allowing Protestant clergyman to perform weddings of brides and grooms from different faiths. In addition, he wanted the state to recognize the voluntary oaths taken by couples to raise their children in the Catholic faith.80 Yet he realized that secular law must provide a pathway for couples whose marriages had been denied by the clergy and thus opted for passive assistance as a solution to the problem. Despite Metternich’s leanings toward restoration of Catholic freedoms in Austria, he intervened as a neutral mediator between Prussia and Rome in 1840. Metternich had no desire for a culture war that would cause disorder in Central Europe and wanted this unpleasant affair to end.81 In addition, members of the Austrian government such as Count Joseph von Trauttmannsdorff, ambassador to Berlin, were furious with Bunsen for the trouble caused by the arrest of Clemens August.82 In contrast, Bavaria pursued a different foreign policy during the Kölner Ereignis. Ludwig I viewed the Church as the most reliable bulwark 78. Kolowrat to Ferdinand, January 9, 1839, HHStA, KA 46, 1841, no. 558. 79. Reinerman, Between Conflict and Cooperation, p. 22. 80. Metternich to members of the Staatskonferenz, July 1838, HHStA, Kabinettsarchiv, KA 46, 1841, no. 558. See also Maass, Der Josephinismus, 5:500–04. 81. Metternich, as well as Austrian bureaucrats, thought that Catholic romantics could be dangerous to the government; see Paula Sutter Fichtner, “History, Religion, and Politics in the Austrian Vormärz,” History and Theory: Studies in the Philosophy of History, 10 (1971), 33–48, here 37. Heinrich Ritter von Srbik wrote that Metternich feared Catholic revolutionaries and was suspicious of Ludwig I of Bavaria’s enthusiastic Catholicism; see Heinrich Ritter von Sybik, Metternich: Der Staatsmann und der Mensch. Teil 2 (Munich, 1925), p. 61; see also Gesandtschaftsberichte aus München 1814–1848. Abteilung II. Die Berichte der österreichischen Gesandten, ed. Anton Chroust (Munich, 1942). 82. Trauttmannsdorff to Metternich, February 9, 1838, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis 2:117. 66 SEEING PRUSSIA THROUGH AUSTRIAN EYES against revolutionary upheaval.83 He pursued an alliance with the Church and sponsored Görres and other Catholic activists, who produced an avalanche of anti-Prussian literature that spread across Germany.84 Public opinion in Bavaria was thus turned against Prussia after the Cologne Affair.85 To the detriment of Prussian-Bavarian relations, the Bavarian government refused Prussian requests to shut down newspapers such as the Neue Würzburger Zeitung, which printed inflammatory statements against Prussia, noting that events in Cologne affected the papacy and thus the Church in Bavaria.86 For this reason, the smaller German states also had an interest in the outcome of the Kölner Ereignis. Most of these states also held firm to Staatskirchentum, and the majority of these new states contained significant numbers of Catholics and Protestants.87 Mixed marriages were, furthermore, a contentious issue in most German states and formed the biggest divide between Catholics and Protestants in the nineteenth century.88 In addition, the first stirrings of ultramontanism could be heard, and governments across Central Europe feared disorder from confessional conflict. For these reasons, it was crucial for German rulers to resolve this conflict. 83. Ernst Rudolf Huber, Deutsche Verfassungsgeschichte seit 1789, 8 vols. (Stuttgart, 1957–91), 2:436. 84. Charles von Abel became interior minister in Bavaria in the same month that Prussia arrested the archbishop of Cologne. The Abel ministry pursued a clerical course, which revoked rights for Protestants, and promoted monasticism and “verkirchlicht” schools; see Nipperdey, Deutsche Geschichte, pp. 352, 420. 85. George S. Werner, Bavaria in the German Confederation 1820–1848 (Rutherford, NJ, 1977), pp. 175–79. 86. Werner, Bavaria in the German Confederation, p. 176. 87. The smaller states also restricted communication between bishops and Rome, retained confiscated ecclesiastical property and regulated clerical training, see Franz Schnabel, Die Religiösen Kräfte in Deutsche Geschichte im Neunzehnten Jahrhundert, 4 vols. (Freiburg, 1951), pp. 97–105. 88. Schnabel, Deutsche Geschichte im Neunzehnten Jahrhundert, 4:121; one such example was in Baden, where confessional allegiances meant little, and liberal Catholicism flourished until 1848, when ultramontanism began to dominate; see Irmtraud Götz von Olenhusen, “Klerus und Ultramontanismus in der Erzdiözese Freiburg. Entbürgerlichung und Klerikaliserung des Katholizismus nach der Revolution 1848/49,” in Religion und Gesellschaft im 19 Jahrhundert (Stuttgart, 1993), pp. 113–43. Yet, conflict appeared near the end of the Vormärz such as when Archbishop Vicari sparked controversy in 1845 with his directive to clergymen insisting on the oath for a mixed marriage to bring up children in the Catholic faith; see Dagmar Herzog, “The Rise of the Religious Right and the Recasting of the “Jewish Question”: Baden in the 1840s,” in Protestants, Catholics, and Jews in Germany 1800–1914, ed. Helmut Walser Smith (Oxford, 2001), pp. 191–92. SCOTT BERG 67 Resolution required mediation by Austria, and Metternich urged the new king, Frederick William IV (r. 1840–61), to chart a different course from his father’s disastrous policy toward the Church—one of reconciliation.89 Yet, Metternich had to cultivate a delicate balance because he did not want the new Prussian king, a strong romanticist, to take Prussian policy toward the Church in an unpredictable, anti-Austrian, and ultramontanist direction. Metternich advised moderation to the curia in Rome, urging it to compromise with the new Prussian king, who was ready to make concessions.90 The Austrian foreign minister placed his support behind Prussia after Frederick William issued a number of decrees in January 1841. These renounced the monarch’s right to censor communication between Rome and Prussian bishops, guaranteed freedom to the Church to select bishops (but reserved a royal veto power), and established a Catholic department in the Kultusministerium charged with assisting and managing Catholic affairs.91 Metternich urged the curia to make peace after these concessions, but Rome insisted that Clemens August must be restored to his position.92 Metternich tried to convey to the curia that Frederick William could not permit Clemens August to return because the king could not flout his father’s will, nor could the Prussian king allow a zealot such as Karl-August von Reisach to administer the Diocese of Cologne because of Protestant opinion.93 A compromise candidate, Johannes von Geissel, eventually emerged. He had sided with the Church on the mixed-marriage issue but also had experience managing a diocese with Protestant inhabitants.94 He became the coadjutor of the Diocese of Cologne in late 1841 and because he was already a bishop, he did not need to be consecrated. With this agreement, which Metternich urged all reasonable Catholics to accept, and the lifting of restrictions on Clemens August, the turmoil in Cologne ended.95 Whereas Prussia’s approach to the Kölner Ereignis put its erratic policy toward the Church on display, Austria pursued a calm, anticlimactic end to the controversy in 1841. In the meantime, couples denied marriage by 89. Lill, Die Beilegung der Kölner Wirren, p. 75. 90. Ibid., p. 119. 91. Roger Aubert, Johannes Beckmann, Patrick J. Corish, and Rudolf Lill, Die Kirche in der Gegenwart: Die Kirche zwischen Revolution und Restauration, [Vol. 6 of Handbuch der Kirchengeschichte], (Freiburg, 1971), p. 399. 92. Lill, Die Beilegung der Kölner Wirren, p. 147. 93. Ibid., p. 167. 94. Ibid., p. 173. 95. Metternich to Prussian Minister Maltzahn, November 19, 1841, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:331. 68 SEEING PRUSSIA THROUGH AUSTRIAN EYES the clergy in Austria could appeal their cases to the government, complaining that such oaths had not been required in Austria for almost fifty years.96 Yet, the government wanted to ease the conscience of the clergy and still provide weddings for mixed couples without forcing them to take an oath to raise children in the Catholic faith. For this solution, the blessing of Gregory XVI (1830–46) was needed for passive assistance, especially in Hungary, where imperial officials urged Metternich to come to an agreement with the papacy.97 In 1840 the committee handling Austria’s mixed-marriage problem voted to give Metternich the authority to negotiate with the pope on this issue.98 Relations between Austria and the papacy were tense, and negotiations did not begin well. The papacy had bitterly opposed Joseph’s policies in the 1780s and in subsequent negotiations had displayed a particularly strong distaste for Austria’s marriage policies. Pius VII handed Emperor Francis I a list of grievances in 1819, which included the marriage patent, but the emperor’s spiritual adviser, Martin von Lorenz, convinced him that zealots in the papal government were responsible for the pope’s opposition to the marriage patent.99 Francis did not respond to this memorandum until 1832 as his death neared, but Austrian-papal negotiations stalled due to disagreements over marriage. The Austrian negotiator and archbishop of Vienna, Vincenz Eduard Milde, refused to make concessions on Austrian marriage laws despite urging by Metternich to reach an agreement.100 The papacy demanded control over religious marriage, claimed hitherto by Vienna, attempting to relegate Austria’s role on marriage to the less prestigious realm of civil marriage. The archbishop insisted that canon law must adapt to modern conditions, and the talks soon failed.101 In 1840 Austrian officials received a cold reception by Pope Gregory XVI, who complained that Austria had sent state officials to negotiate religious questions and noted that he was more informed about the Polish Church under Tsar Nicholas’s oppression than about the Austrian one.102 Despite these disagreements, 96. Jüstel to Ferdinand, July 1840, HHStA, KA 43, 1840, no. 1312. 97. One example can be found in Majlath to Metternich, July 5, 1841, HHStA, KA, 46, 1841, no. 558. 98. Metternich to Ferdinand, February 12, 1840, in Maass, Der Josephinismus, 5:553–55. 99. Martin von Lorenz to Francis, in Maass, Der Josephinismus, 5: 213–14. Also see Reinerman, Between Conflict and Cooperation, p. 125. 100. Metternich to Francis, October 31, 1834, in Maass, Der Josephinismus, 5:416. 101. Alan Reinerman, Revolution and Reaction, 1830–1838, [Vol. II of Austria and the Papacy in the Age of Metternich], (Washington, DC, 1989), p. 281. This work gives a detailed description of Austria’s attempts to reform the papacy and make it a viable state. 102. Lützow to Metternich, March 14, 1840, in Maass, Der Josephinismus, 5:568. SCOTT BERG 69 the pope granted approval for priests to perform passive assistance in the German lands of the monarchy for marriages in which the couple did not give an oath to raise their children in the Catholic faith. Austria simply approved the papal order in August 1841 and transmitted it to the bishops.103 In 1844 the government made the reverse illegal again after Vienna determined that the Catholic clergy had exploited this legalization to hinder mixed marriages.104 To end the uproar in Hungary, Vienna backed Hungarian Protestants in the 1844 Diet. Protestants charged the Catholic bishops with violating article XXVI of the 1791 settlement that had removed absolutism and banned the reverse.105 In addition, Protestant demagogues sprouted in Hungary and were tolerated by the pro-Protestant palatine of Hungary, Archduke Joseph, much to the disdain of Metternich who considered the archduke a “tool” of the Protestant party.106 The palatine distrusted the Catholic clergy and viewed the primate as a rabble-rouser, whose “known individualism” harmed state interests.107 Vienna ultimately sided with Protestants in the Diet, disliking the disorder generated by confessional feuding such as that provoked by the bishop of Grosswardein, whose “illadvised and unwise step” in 1839 generated anger among Habsburg officials as well as Hungarian Protestants.108 Article III of the 1844 Diet allowed mixed marriages before Protestant clergy and legitimized such unions performed by Protestant ministers since 1839.109 Conditions existed in the Protestant and Catholic churches that benefited the Habsburg Empire. The Protestant churches had no leader to coordinate resistance; in fact, Austria kept the Lutheran and Calvinist confessions separate to ensure the lack of a united front that could challenge the state.110 In contrast, Prussia had to deal with a revived papacy and an 103. Hosp, Die Kirche Österreichs, p. 133. Copies and translations of the papal order are also in HHStA, KA 46, 1841, no. 558. 104. Archbishop Milde to Ferdinand, November 8, 1844, in Allgemeines Verwaltungsarchiv (AVA), Unterricht und Kultus, Alter Kultus (AK), Evangelisch, 11, no. 12406. 105. Maass, Der Josephinismus, 5:118. 106. Metternich called the archduke the “Spielball der protestantischen Parthey,” in Metternich und Gervay, ed. Friedrich Walter, Mittheilungen des Österreichischen Staatsarchivs, 9 (1956), 258. 107. Report of the Palatine, May 21, 1843, in HHStA, KA, 52, 1843, no. 471. 108. HHStA, KA 38, 1839/465. 109. One can find copies of article III of the 1844 acts in several places. See, for example, Die Religionswirren in Ungarn, 2:598–600. 110. Gustav Reingrabner, Protestanten in Österreich: Geschichte und Dokumentation (Vienna, 1981), p. 215. 70 SEEING PRUSSIA THROUGH AUSTRIAN EYES ultramontane movement that flourished among populations who viewed the state as hostile to Catholicism.111 The Kolner Ereignis exacerbated these conditions and “crystallized” the ultramontane movement in Germany.112 The papacy harbored an intense dislike of Josephinism and disapproved of the Austrian state Church, which was cut off from Rome and took its orders from the state. Yet, Rome could not incite trouble in the Habsburg lands because Austria had co-opted the Church. Bishops were, for example, not allowed to meet, hampering organized resistance; and ultramontanism did not flourish in Vormärz Austria, unlike many other areas of Europe. Furthermore, much of the senior clergy and religious advisers in the 1830s had been trained during the Enlightenment, many in Joseph II’s general seminaries.113 The lower clergy enjoyed their role as bureaucrats, received much of their training at state schools, and viewed their Catholic monarch as the protector of the Church.114 In addition, the Catholic monarch was not waging a campaign of confessionalization on behalf of Protestantism. Finally, the Habsburgs’ refusal to use confessional politics to gain legitimacy in the empire meant that religious passions were not inflamed when Prussia arrested Clemens August in 1837. In the end, the Austrian system had the means to resolve the dispute within the laws established under Joseph, whereas Prussian policy was erratic. In Austria, couples denied permission to marry appealed their cases to the government as allowed under the law, invoking article six of the Toleration Patent banning an oath to raise children in the Catholic faith.115 In the committee meetings in 1838 and 1839 on altering Austrian law in response to the Kölner Ereignis, officials could not fathom abolishing or amending such a key foundation of Austrian legal policy and instead devised accommodating solutions.116 In Prussia Frederick William IV could 111. Jeffrey Paul von Arx, ed., Varieties of Ultramontanism (Washington, DC, 1998). This work contains contributions from authors on several areas in which ultramontanism manifested itself in the nineteenth century, most notably Prussia, Ireland, and France. 112. Eric Yonke, “Cardinal Johannes von Geissel,” in Varieties of Ultramontanism, ed. Jeffrey Paul von Arx (Washington, DC, 1998), p. 16. 113. Yet the Josephinist clergy were also aging by this point. The Josephinist system began to show signs of bending by the 1830s, but it did not break until 1848 and was mostly reversed in the 1855 concordat. 114. William D. Bowman, Priest and Parish in Vienna 1780–1880 (Boston, 1999), pp. 2, 103 115. Many cases can be found in Jüstel to Ferdinand, July 1840, HHStA KA, 43, 1840, no. 1312. 116. This issue arises repeatedly; one example can be found in Metternich’s summary of the reports on mixed marriage (September 1839), in HHStA, KA, 1841, no. 558. Also see Maass, Der Josephinismus, 5:549–52. SCOTT BERG 71 have simply reinstated the arrested archbishop to calm the population, implicitly admitting his predecessor’s mistake, but the new ruler could not enact such a direct contradiction of his father’s legacy and intentions.117 Faced with a difficult situation, Frederick William IV tried desperately to obtain Clemens August’s resignation, even claiming at one point that it was God’s will for the archbishop to send his resignation to Rome.118 Whereas the Habsburg legacy meant defending a Church inherited from the Enlightenment that had worked well for fifty years, the Prussian one limited the new king’s options and forced him to make wide-ranging concessions, giving the Church a major victory and a formula for beating the state. Catholics such as Görres celebrated this victory in works such as Church and State after the Course of the Cologne Error in which he said the Church had, thanks to its efforts, started a new chapter; he now hoped Church and state could live in harmony.119 Metternich claimed the event was a triumph for the pope,120 and Karl Marx wrote that Prussia had kissed the slippers of the pope before the entire world.121 The Church had clearly won, and the Catholic Church in Prussia became one of the freest in Europe, much more than the Austrian Church. This victory was manifested most clearly in 1844 when an estimated 1.1 million pilgrims visited the Holy Coat of Trier, in what was probably the biggest movement of people in the Vormärz.122 This event would have been unlikely before the Cologne Affair, but the arrest of the archbishop had shifted momentum, which had run against the Church since the Enlightenment, and foreshadowed a new age for Prussia in which political Catholicism and popular processions would play a strong role. Although Frederick William IV made peace with the Catholic Church in 1841, Prussia lacked a clear vision on how to handle its Catholic 117. Frederick William IV to Clemens August, October 19, 1840, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:306–07. 118. Frederick William IV to Clemens August, Berlin, October 19, 1840, in Keinemann, Das Kölner Ereignis, 2:306–07. 119. Joseph Gorres, Kirche und Staat nach Ablauf der Cölner Irrung (Weissenburg, 1842), p. 19. 120. Lill, Die Beilegung der Kölner Wirren, p. 211. 121. Karl Marx to Arnold Ruge, July 9, 1842, in Rheinische Briefe und Akten, ed. Hansen, 1:350. 122. Estimates vary from half a million to 1.1 million. Görres and Prussian officials judged it at 1.1 million. T. C. W. Blanning gives the same estimate, in Blanning, “The French Revolution and the Modernization of Germany,” Central European History, 22 (1989), 109–29, here 118. 72 SEEING PRUSSIA THROUGH AUSTRIAN EYES population, and the state would clash repeatedly with Catholicism, most notably in the 1870s during the Kulturkampf. Although scholars such as Jonathan Sperber have argued that the reactions to the Kölner Ereignis were short lived, James Brophy has written that the arrest of Clemens August confirmed what officials strived to avoid: “the seamless dovetailing of religion with politics.”123 This formula proved effective in placing limits on the power of the nineteenth-century state. By arresting the archbishop in 1837, the Prussian government unleashed forces hostile to it, and the Church learned how to defeat the state in open battle. Austria was, on the other hand, able to weather the storms of religious rancor. Its Josephinist structure allowed it to retain both its Church from the Enlightenment and legitimacy because the Habsburg monarchy had established a precedent of relative progressivism in religious matters. This situation allowed Austria to remake its conservative order in a unique way. Unlike most European countries, reform of the Church in Austria owed nothing to the French Revolution. In fact, 1792–1815 were relatively quiet years for the Austrian Church; and in the Restoration, in part by design and in part by habit, Habsburg officials preferred a tame Church that would conform to the ideals of a nonconfessional state. Thirty years ago, in the landmark essay “What Is German History?” James Sheehan called for the inclusion of areas left out of the Reichsgründung of 1871 into German history.124 Other scholars such as Wolf D. Gruner125 have created a more balanced view of German history by emphasizing the roles of non-Prussian Germany, and numerous historians have demonstrated the relevance of confession in nineteenth-century Germany.126 These approaches are appropriate for studying the Kölner Ereig123. Jonathan Sperber makes this assertion in “Roman Catholic Religious Identity in the Rhineland,” p. 316; see also Sperber, Popular Catholicism in Nineteenth-Century Germany (Princeton, 1984), p. 54, and Brophy, Popular Culture and the Public Sphere in the Rhineland, p. 280. 124. Sheehan, “What Is German History? 125. Gruner views the dominant Prussian-centered histories of Germany as seriously flawed and a product of attempts to legitimize the Reichsgründung. He focuses on the contributions of the “Third Germany” and the neglected and often disparaged German Confederation; see Wolf D. Gruner, Der Deutsche Bund 1815–1866 (Munich, 2012). 126. The most prominent is Olaf Blaschke’s work describing nineteenth-century Germany as a “neo-confessional age,” in Konfessionen im Konflikt: Deutschland zwischen 1800 und 1970: ein zweites konfessionelles Zeitalter. Helga Schnabel-Schüle notes that textbooks rely on periodization and thus confine confessionalization to pre-1648 volumes; see SchnabelSchüle, “Vierzig Jahre Konfessionalisierungsforschung: eine Standortsbestimmung,” in Konfession im Konflikt, p. 74. Wolfgang Schieder has criticized the segregation of religious history SCOTT BERG 73 nis, which aroused Catholics not only in the Rhineland but also the Austrian Empire and even in countries as far away as Ireland.127 By ignoring political boundaries set up thirty years after the turmoil in Cologne, it is possible to obtain a fuller picture of the event and a better understanding of the historical actors in the 1830s. Placing Austria into the historical narrative of the Kölner Ereignis and viewing Prussia through “Austrian eyes” allows a more revealing illustration of Prussia’s deficiencies and casts a wider net, which captures important fragments of the story omitted from history by political boundaries. The shortcomings of Prussia’s confessional politics become clearer as do the reasons for the disorder in central Europe when Prussia is juxtaposed with Austria. It also provides evidence that conflict between Catholics and Protestants was not necessarily inevitable. Although the situations in Prussia and Austria were not exactly analogous, the Habsburg Empire had a better model of conflict resolution that reconciled the empire’s disparate religious elements and rejected confessional politics. Such an instrument did not exist in Prussia, and the lack of such a mechanism, combined with the memory of the turmoil in Cologne, ensured that Prussia would struggle with a “Catholic” problem for the rest of the nineteenth century. to the domain of church historians; see Wolfgang Schieder, “Sozialgeschichte der Religion im 19 Jahrhundert. Bemerkungen zur Forschungslage,” in Religion und Gesellschaft im 19 Jahrhundert (Stuttgart, 1993), p. 11. For a collection of essays dealing with numerous confessional questions in nineteenth-century Germany, see Helmut Walser Smith, ed., Protestants, Catholics, and Jews in Germany 1800–1914 (Oxford, 2001). Many others, such as Margaret Lavinia Anderson, have helped bring religion back into nineteenth-century German history. 127. Daniel O’Connell criticized Prussia for its arrest of Clemens August, and the Irish leader became a hero to many Rhenish Catholics; see James M. Brophy, “Die Rezeption Daniel O’Connells und der irischen Emanzipationsbewegungen im vormärzlichen Deutschland,” Marx-Engels Jahrbuch (2011), 74–93. An “Evolved” Devotional Book from Late-Eighteenth-Century Mexico WILLIAM B. TAYLOR* A well-used devotional book with two names inscribed and the print of a miraculous image of Christ crucified pasted in next to the first page of text is examined for clues to religious life in Mexico City in the lateeighteenth century. The discussion features a counterpoint between “external” baroque spiritual practices and reforms meant to fix attention on the discipline of private, “internal” exercises and atonement for sins that continues to be a source of scholarly debate. Keywords: material culture of devotion; mystique of images; devotional literature; late-colonial reforms; Teodoro de Almeida T he object in question is a pocket-size devotional book measuring 3¼” by 5¾,” Tesoro de paciencia, o consuelo del alma atribulada en la meditación de las penas del Salvador (“A Treasury of Patience, or Consolation for the Troubled Soul through Meditation on the Suffering of Our Savior”) by the Portuguese Oratorian priest Theodoro de Almeida. Published in Madrid in 1790 and probably unbound when it was shipped to Mexico, as most imported books were, this fourth printing of a Spanish translation of the original 1765 Portuguese text has a sturdy, plain calfskin binding with signs of considerable wear. The label on the spine has come off, the leather and boards are scuffed, and repairs to the endpapers recycle the draft of a letter, possibly to a confessor. Apparently the book first belonged to Felipa Luna y Rosales whose name is written in cursive letters on the title page, where owners usually identified themselves (see figure 1). On page 108 there is an undated note in the hand of another early owner who identified herself as hermana (“sister”), probably a beata or lay sister: “Belonging to Sister Cypriana *Dr. Taylor is the Muriel McKevitt Sonne Professor of History Emeritus at University of California, Berkeley, email: wtaylor@berkeley.edu. The author thanks Brian Connaughton for pointing him in the right direction and Maureen C. Miller for very helpful editorial suggestions. 65 66 AN “EVOLVED” DEVOTIONAL BOOK FIGURE 1. Title page of the Tesoro de Paciencia with Felipa Luna y Rosales’s name inscribed. Image courtesy of the author. García Castañiza. May I be commended to God”1 (see figure 2). Cypriana García wrote these words on the pages that begin a major section of soliloquies on the penitent’s afflicted soul in the presence of God meant, advises the author, “to aid the soul in unburdening its oppressed heart before God.” The first soliloquy begins, “Oh, my good God, save me for I perish by the moment; I find myself drowning in this terrible storm.”2 What better place to identify herself and appeal for God’s mercy? I can only guess at the family background, social station, and relationship, if any, between these two women. Were they members of the same family, perhaps of different generations? Was one or were both members 1. “Del uso de la ha. [hermana] Cypriana García Castañiza. Me encomendara a Dios.” A still later addition, tipped into the book between pages 10 and 11, is a handwritten prayer for the moment of death in the spirit of Almeida’s printed text, signed Felicitas Galarza and dated October 11, 1896. 2. “con que el alma pueda desahogar delante de Dios”; “O mi buen Dios, sálvame, que estoy pereciendo por instantes; asi sumergido mi miro en esta horrorosa tempestad”: Almeida, Tesoro de paciencia, pp. 108, 111. WILLIAM B. TAYLOR 67 FIGURE 2. Pages 108–09 of this copy of the Tesoro de paciencia with Cypriana García Castañiza’s inscription, “Del uso de la ha. Cypriana Garcia Castañiza. Me encomendara a Dios.” of a beaterio or other supervised living arrangement for laywomen under religious instruction?3 Considering the large number of primary school classes operating in New Spain during the late-eighteenth century, rudimentary literacy for women living in corporate communities or under the care of charitable institutions was not unusual,4 but a book like this, both in its content and length, would have reached only a more select audience 3. Several kinds of semi-cloistered living arrangements operated in Mexico City in the late-eighteenth century, including beaterios or congregations of pious women who lived together in order to practice their devotions in community but did not take irrevocable religious vows; recogimientos of former prostitutes and women convicts sentenced to a term of reclusion and instruction; orphanages for girls; and voluntary recogimientos or sheltered associations for “poor but virtuous women,” “chaste young Spanish women” (“doncellas españolas honestas”), or pious widows. See Susan M. Socolow, The Women of Colonial Latin America (New York, 2000), pp. 106–07, and Josefina Muriel, Los recogimientos de mujeres: Respuesta a una problemática social novohispana (Mexico, 1974), passim. 4. For the late-colonial period this subject has been studied in rich detail by Dorothy Tanck de Estrada, La educación ilustrada, 1786–1836: Educación primaria en la ciudad de México, 6th ed. (Mexico, 2005), and Pueblos de indios y educación en México colonial, 1750– 1821, 3rd ed. (Mexico, 2010). 68 AN “EVOLVED” DEVOTIONAL BOOK of women from urban beaterios or well-to-do families who would likely have been tutored in reading and writing rather than to have attended a school. Unlike printed images on loose sheets with runs of 5000 copies or more, or even booklets containing prayers, other devotional exercises, and a woodcut or engraving for novena observances that were printed and sometimes reprinted in editions of several hundred copies or more, imported books like the Tesoro de paciencia were expensive and circulated in small numbers, perhaps a few score.5 Since neither of the owners of this copy of the Tesoro de paciencia identified herself as a doña (a woman of distinction), and one refers to herself as “hermana,” they may have lived in one of the various shelters for pious women in the capital, but it is equally likely that they were laywomen from well-to-do, reputedly Spanish families who led largely secluded lives at home with their families, as did many contemporary women of privilege.6 Facing the first page of text someone—Felipa Luna or Cypriana García are the likely choices—pasted in a small, late-colonial print in rosecolored ink of a crucified Christ, the “prodigiosa Imagen del Smo Christo de los Desagravios [Christ of Atonement]” in the Franciscan church in Mexico City (see figure 3). Since this was a local, Mexico City devotion, it suggests that both women were from Mexico City (where I acquired the book from a used book dealer). Material Culture and History This was the Town she passed There where she rested last Then stepped more fast The little tracks close prest 5. There were no copyright laws in effect at the time, so a book like this could have been reprinted in Mexico City, Puebla, or Guadalajara if episcopal authorities had allowed, but I have not found evidence of a Mexican reprinting of this one until 1890. Other editions of the Spanish translation were published in Madrid in 1783, 1786, 1788, 1793, 1796, and 1804. For more on Spanish translations of Almeida’s work and the impact of his writings in Spain, see Zulmira C. Santos, “As traduções das obras de espiritualidade de Teodoro de Almeida (1722–1804) em Espanha e França: estado da questão, formas e tempos,” Via Spiritus, I (1994), 185–208. 6. For an example of a copy of Almeida’s Tesoro de paciencia in the library of a pious elite woman of Valladolid (Michoacán) in the late-eighteenth century, see Moisés Guzmán Pérez and Paulina Patricia Barbosa Malagón, “Lecturas femeninas en Valladolid de Michoacán (siglo XVIII). La ‘librería’ de Ana Manuela Muñiz Sánchez de Tagle,” TZINTZUN: Revista de Estudios Históricos, 58 (2013), 51. WILLIAM B. TAYLOR 69 FIGURE 3. A small, unsigned, late-colonial print in rose-colored ink depicting Mexico City’s miraculous Cristo de los Desagravios is pasted into this copy of the Tesoro de paciencia, facing the first page of text. Residue of the paste can be seen along the inside edge of the print and the facing page of text. Even though a few letters in the caption at the bottom of the print were lost when the print was trimmed to the size of the book’s pages, the sense of the caption is clear: “Depiction of the prodigious image of the Most Holy Christ of Atonement that, following an earthquake on the night of November 7, 1731, was transformed and sweated blood from the wound in its side. It is venerated by its Congregation in the Chapel of the Most Holy Christ of the convent of Our Most Holy Father St. Francis in Mexico City.” The print would have been made after 1780 when the crucifix was placed in the chapel of the Christ of Burgos. Then not so swift Slow, slow as feet did weary grow Then stopped, no other track! Wait! Look! Her little Book The leaf at love turned back Her very Hat And this worn shoe just fits the track Here though fled.7 —Emily Dickinson 7. Thomas H. Johnson, ed., The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson (London, 1975), poem #344, c. 1862. 70 AN “EVOLVED” DEVOTIONAL BOOK Material culture presents a paradox. As John Glassie writes, it is “culture made material,” yet “culture is immaterial. Culture is pattern in mind, inward, invisible and shifting.”8 Material remains usually amount to scraps and tracks, or objects largely separated from their earlier contexts, the thinking behind them and significance inferred more than established. Few makers and users of treasured things are as obligingly informative as Walter Race was in 1930 about the two lives of a well-loved tree on his family’s farm in Abbot Village, Maine. That year, he built a sturdy little wall cabinet with boards cut from the tree and other materials he had at hand, including two oversized hinges, nails, a glass knob, and shellac. On the underside of the cabinet’s shallow drawer he wrote in pencil: This cabnit was made in March 1930 by Walter Race wholely from wood taken from the pine tree that grew by the corner of the house on the Race farm on Rover Road in Abbot. The tree was set out by Hiram Race when a young man who died Feb. 10, 1864, aged 29 years 6 months. It was ran over by a pair of steers and damaged quite badly struck by lightning about blew down. “Here though fled,” as Emily Dickinson put it, is the story of most vernacular objects and their makers and users that historians come across, even the thumbnail biography of Race’s cabinet and its beginnings in a tree planted by his young ancestor, dead in 1864,9 if we can trust him as narrator. Interpreting poorly documented objects remains a major challenge for the study of early-modern Catholic Europe and America even though a generation of art historians and historians have applied their talents to the study of various religious images as material culture. It is a compelling challenge because the mystique of images was a defining feature of religiosity in colonial Mexico. Sensuous religious practices in Catholic Christianity make the connections between image and devotion especially compelling, but insights into their production, promotion, and regulation have 8. Material Culture (Bloomington, IN, 1999), p. 41. Art historian George Kubler chose to speak of “the history of things” instead of material culture because of material culture’s “bristling ugliness” and its use to make an artificial distinction between “mental culture” and artifacts, The Shape of Time: Remarks on the History of Things (New Haven, 1962), p. 9. Glassie does not make such a distinction when he speaks of material culture, so I see no good reason to try to force a change in terminology. Kubler’s meaning of “the history of things” is much the same as the usual sense of material culture: “all materials [handled or] worked by human hands under the guidance of connected ideas developed in temporal sequence”; see The Shape of Time, p. 9. 9. I have not been able to determine if he died in the Civil War, as so many young men from Maine did. WILLIAM B. TAYLOR 71 been easier to come by than their reception and audience. There is no easy resolution of Glassie’s paradox. In a 1989 book that turned European art history more decisively toward the power of images—how effigies were received and used, as well as made and promoted—and away from the idea of a sea change in the sixteenth century from a cult of images to a cult of art, David Freedberg declared that “the history of art is subsumed by the history of images,” by the relationships between images and people in history.10 Freedberg called attention to images usually overlooked by art historians, especially shrine images and things associated with them that devotees took to be a living embodiment of what they represented and where they came from. But his inquiry into “the efficacy of pictures” slighted actual responses to and uses of those images in their places and times.11 He turned to psychological theories about response more than evidence of use in context to interpret them, merging object and action more than demonstrating the connections between them.12 In addition to the immediate problems of reckoning with objects long separated from their physical and temporal contexts, we have often lost much of the common knowledge, skills, and appetites that patrons, makers, 10. The Power of Images: Studies in the History and Theory of Response (Chicago, 1989), p. xix. Art historian Esther Pasztory goes a step beyond Freedberg to declare that the history of art is subsumed by the history of objects of all kinds, Thinking with Things: Toward a New Vision of Art (Austin, 2005). A key work addressing the enchantment of images before the Renaissance is Hans Belting, Likeness and Presence: A History of the Image Before the Era of Art (Chicago, 1994). Michael Baxandall’s Painting and Experience in Fifteenth-Century Italy: A Primer in the Social History of Pictorial Style (Oxford, 1972) is rightly recognized for opening the way to a more audience-centered social history of art and visual representation. And historical archaeologists have long recognized this challenge, but in stressing the priority of the sited object, they have rarely deepened the context with the array of records for Christian objects in early modern Europe and the Americas. An exception is Russell N. Sheptak, Rosemary A. Joyce, and Kira Blaisdell-Sloan, “Pragmatic Choices, Colonial Lives: Resistance, Ambivalence, and Appropriation in Northern Honduras,” in Enduring Conquests: Rethinking the Archaeology of Resistance to Spanish Colonialism in the Americas, ed. Matthew Liebmann and Melissa S. Murphy (Santa Fe, 2010), pp.149–72. 11. Freedberg’s chapters on consecration of things and of things taken to and from pilgrimage shrines come closest to establishing response. 12. Elizabeth Coatsworth pointed out the risk of carefree conclusions about how objects were received without direct evidence of how they were used and valued: “A man’s life or a woman’s after a hundred years is usually summed up by little more than an old daguerreotype, a few letters stiffly written, breaking along the folds, or the mute witness of the objects they perhaps cherished: ‘these were my grandmother’s earrings. This was my great-grandfather’s desk.’ Yet perhaps the grandmother never cared for the earrings; perhaps the great grandfather preferred to write at a table (as I am writing now) in the kitchen”; see Maine Ways (New York, 1947), p. 211. 72 AN “EVOLVED” DEVOTIONAL BOOK and consumers in the past brought to them.13 But for historians the disciplinary problem goes beyond thin contexts to an inclination to treat images and other objects from the past passively, as symbols or ornamental illustrations of conclusions and developments already arrived at in other ways.14 One promising approach to Freedberg’s call for attention to the power of images through response centers on what Joanna Ziegler called “evolved images”—paintings and statues that display signs of wear, remodeling, and decoration or were believed to have shown signs of life—shedding tears, perspiring, bleeding, and changing posture.15 Among art historians, Robert Maniura has worked to blur the distinction between art objects and cult objects by focusing on responses to celebrated shrine images in Catholic Europe and acts of devotion by visitors to them. His study of the shrine image of Our Lady of Czestochowa draws particular attention to the blemish on this famous icon’s face as a source of strong feelings and the conviction that the Blessed Mary is present among devotees who visit the shrine.16 As usual, actual responses in the past remain elusive.17 13. Ludmilla Jordanova, The Look of the Past: Visual Culture and Material Evidence in Historical Practice (Cambridge, UK, 2012), p. 33. Jordana treats audience in chapter 4 and prints on pp. 164–66. 14. Francis Haskell, History and Its Images: Art and the Interpretation of the Past (New Haven, 1993), pp. 2–10. 15. Joanna Ziegler, “The Medieval Virgin as Object: Art or Anthropology?” Historical Reflections/Reflexions Historiques, 16, nos. 2–3 (1989), 251–64. In related work, historian Richard Trexler considered the decoration of religious images in Renaissance Italy as acts of beautification and devotion, “Being and Non-Being: Parameters of the Miraculous in the Traditional Religious Image,” in The Miraculous Image in the Late Middle Ages and Renaissance, ed. Erik Thunø and Gerhard Wolf (Rome, 2004), pp. 15–27. 16. Pilgrimage to Images in the Fifteenth Century: The Origins of the Cult of Our Lady of Czestochowa (Woodbridge, UK, 2004). See also his “Voting with Their Feet: Art, Pilgrimage and Ratings in the Renaissance,” in Revaluing Renaissance Art, ed. Gabriele Neher and Rupert Shepherd (Aldershot, UK, 2000), 187–200; “The Images and Miracles of Santa Maria delle Carceri,” in Thunø and Wolf, The Miraculous Image in the Late Middle Ages and Renaissance, pp. 81–95, which addresses response through a group of sixty-five miracle stories; and Presence: The Inherence of the Prototype within Images and Other Objects, ed. Robert Maniura and Rupert Shepherd (Aldershot, UK, 2006) for further reflections about reception centered on belief in divine immanence. For a Mexican case similar to the blemish on the cheek of the Virgin of Czestochowa, see Ilona Katzew, “The Virgin of the Macana: Emblem of a Franciscan Predicament in New Spain,” Colonial Latin American Review, 12 (2003), 171–98. 17. A journal that seeks to bridge the various academic and public groups interested in the power of religious images was established in England in 2005, Material Religion: The Journal of Objects, Art, and Belief. As the editors explain in the first issue, the subject is “material forms and their uses in religious practices,” or “what material culture can tell . . . about the lived experience of religion.” Recent issues have been devoted to museums, visual culture, gendering religious objects, and selected approaches to ritual materials in several religious W ILLIAM B. TAYLOR 73 Reckoning with Felipa’s and Cypriana’s Book as Material Culture Sometimes the signs of wear and other changes in a private or public object are clear but their uses and associations with particular people, times, and sentiments are hidden. We are left to guess what it meant to those who made, remade, and otherwise used it.18 But occasionally, as here with Felipa’s and Cypriana’s copy of the Tesoro de paciencia, the object itself suggests how it was deployed in changing circumstances, connecting currents of faith that might otherwise seem incompatible or simply to glide past each other. Teodoro de Almeida’s text, itself, is an essential part of this story. During the late-eighteenth century, Catholic reformers in Mexico actively promoted a more personal, private, austere piety for the laity over the showy and expensive public practices of baroque religiosity, whether in the fabulous ornamentation of Puebla’s Rosary chapel,19 or lavish Corpus Christi decorations and processions in virtually every parish.20 The idea was that a more interiorized, disciplined spiritual life would better merit salvation and honor the saints and Christ by imitating their Christian virtues, rather than looking for divine intercession and relief in everyday life. During the last third of the eighteenth century, Almeida’s writings were among the guides for this devotraditions and parts of the world. Anthropology has been the journal’s home base. Latin America, historical contexts, and close attention to issues of reception have not received much attention in its pages so far. 18. A rare instance of the making and use of a print described by its original sponsor is recorded in William B. Taylor, Marvels & Miracles in Late Colonial Mexico: Three Texts in Context (Albuquerque, 2011), pp. 71–136. 19. For a brief discussion of this famous seventeenth-century Rosary chapel, known locally as “the eighth wonder of the world,” see Colonial Latin America: A Documentary History, ed. Kenneth Mills, William B. Taylor, and Sandra Lauderdale Graham (Wilmington, DE, 2002), pp. 269–71. 20. In Brian Larkin’s words, “rather than seeking physical contact with a proximate and palpable God, reformers encouraged Catholics to offer God an inner tribute”; see The Very Nature of God: Baroque Catholicism and Religious Reform in Bourbon Mexico City (Albuquerque, 2010), p. 7. As J. Michelle Molina cautions, an emphasis on personal, interior piety was far from new to the late-eighteenth century; see To Overcome Oneself: The Jesuit Ethic and Spirit of Global Expansion, 1520–1767 (Berkeley, 2013), pp. 202–03. Her case in point is the practice of the Jesuits’ Spiritual Exercises, coming forward from the sixteenth century. The Oratorians’ attention to personal devotions and the sacrament of penance for clerical members and lay affiliates alike as a complement to their practices as a group, would be another case dating from the religious reforms of the sixteenth century. However, the promotion of personal piety for lay Catholics at the expense of “baroque” devotional practices in the late-eighteenth century was understood and advanced by its most enthusiastic proponents as a new, more sweeping campaign. 74 AN “EVOLVED” DEVOTIONAL BOOK tional reform in New Spain.21 His issues were old ones—to reconcile reason and faith, passions and the intellect—and grounded in a longstanding Oratorian emphasis on penance and the Eucharist to conquer the forces of evil through devotion to Christ,22 but he addressed them in an Enlightenment spirit, emphasizing a rigorous piety that was at once intellectualized, sober, and practical. He sought to harmonize faith and scientific knowledge of the world,23 and when he wrote metaphorically of the heart, he meant reason, not emotion. Almeida was a founding member of the Portuguese Academia das Sciencias de Lisboa and avid popularizer of the physical sciences, as well as the author of a novel, reflections on philosophy and theology, poetry, collections of sermons, and devotional texts about the afflictions suffered by the Blessed Mary as well as Christ. In Almeida’s view of devotional practices, miracles, saints, images, and processions were of little interest, unlike Mexican Oratorians who came before him, including Archbishop Francisco Aguiar y Seixas (1682–98) and Dr. Alonso Alberto de Velasco, late-seventeenth-century prefect of the Oratorian community in Mexico City, author of a pious history of the celebrated Cristo Renovado de Santa Teresa, and a leading figure in the campaign for the canonization of native son Felipe de Jesús.24 Velasco’s Rosary manual and his devotional history of the Cristo 21. A glimpse of Almeida’s published works in commerce in New Spain at the beginning of the nineteenth century is the stock of books taken by José María Berrueco to the annual fair at San Juan de los Lagos (Jalisco) in 1804. His inventory included two sets of six volumes of Almeida’s writings and a copy of his Gemidos de la Madre de Dios afligida y consuelo de sus devotos con diferentes obsequios ofrecidos a la misma señora considerada en sus Dolores y angustias, Carmen Castañeda, “Libros como mercancías y objetos culturales en la feria de San Juan de los Lagos, México, 1804,” Estudios del Hombre, 20 (2005), 87–116. 22. Filippo (Philip) Neri, “The Apostle of Rome,” was famous for founding a society of secular clergy in Rome in the 1550s. Known as the Congregation of the Oratory or Oratorians, members lived in community and met regularly for readings, discussion, and prayer, often with interested laymen. After Neri was canonized in 1622, autonomous Oratorian communities were established in scores of Catholic centers, including Mexico City by the late 1650s. The Mexico City Oratorians received formal recognition as a Congregation by papal decree in 1701 and prospered during the eighteenth century in spite of losing their church in an earthquake in 1768 and having to relocate to the ex-Jesuit Casa Profesa on terms set by the Crown that diminished their independence. Many prominent Creoles in the capital were affiliated with this Congregation of the Oratory. A promising study of the Oratorians in Mexico City by Benjamin Reed is in progress. There is a podcast of his presentation of his 2011 paper, “Devotion to Saint Philip Neri in Mexico City, 1659–1821: Religion, Politics, Spirituality and Identity,” at http://laii.unm.edu/podcasts/2001-04-29_benjamin-reed.php 23. For an appraisal of Almeida’s practical spirituality in an eighteenth-century context, see P. Fernando Azevedo, “A Piety of the Enlightenment: The Spirituality of Truth of Teodoro de Almeida,” Didaskalia, 5 (1975), 105–30. 24. Archbishop Aguiar y Seijas actively promoted shrines to miraculous images and the confraternities that supported them, including the project for construction of a great new WILLIAM B. TAYLOR 75 Renovado were repeatedly reprinted during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and other Oratorians went on composing and publishing booklets of prayers and programs for public novena observances. The print pasted into the book is from a different current of piety than Almeida’s text, closer to the hearts of seventeenth-century Mexican Oratorians like Velasco and Aguiar. It depicts a miraculous crucifix that had belonged to the noble family of the Condes del Valle de Orizaba, who lived in the palace known as the House of Tiles, a downtown Mexico City landmark now housing a Sanborns restaurant and shops. During an earthquake on the night of November 7, 1731, the crucifix was said to have come to life, according to twenty-seven eyewitnesses, most of them Spaniards and priests. They swore that Christ’s face turned pallid and then flushed in the space of a few hours, and that the wound in his side oozed a liquid, either blood or perspiration.25 News of this activation of the Christ caused an immediate clamor at the Conde de Orizaba’s door, and the archbishop’s attorney general (provisor) decided to have the image moved to the altar in the Chapel of San Joseph of the Franciscans’ mother church, located across the street. There, too, excited crowds gathered to see this Christ.26 The Conde de Orizaba pressed for an investigation of the reputed miracle, the eyewitnesses were brought forward, and the provisor ordered a thorough examination by medical experts of the cloth used to wipe away the liquid from the statue’s wound to determine if it was blood or perspiration rather than water.27 In 1734 the provisor and vicario general of the archdiocese published a decree affirming that this was a true miracle: the Christ had in fact shed blood that night in 1731.28 By June 1735, an altarpiece dedicated to the Cristo de los Desagravios was in place in the Franciscans’ chapel of San Joseph.29 And in 1780 a still grander altarpiece was inaugurated for church for the Virgin of Guadalupe at Tepeyac. Velasco worked with Aguiar y Seijas to publicize and promote the tradition of the Cristo Renovado de Santa Teresa. He also authored a popular novena booklet for this miraculous image. Miguel Sánchez and Luis Becerra Tanco, two prominent Mexican Oratorians of the mid-seventeenth century, were leading publicists of the miraculous Virgin of Guadalupe. 25. Archivo General de la Nación, Mexico (hereafter AGN), Bienes Nacionales, vol. 1157, exp. 1, 1731–47. 26. As reported in the Gazeta de México for November 1731. The reporter wisely was noncommittal about whether a supernatural event had taken place, Boletín del Instituto Bibliográfico Mexicano, no. 4 (1903), 284–85. 27. AGN, Bienes Nacionales, vol. 1157, exp. 1, fol. 36r–v. 28. Gazeta de México for April 1734, Boletín del Instituto Bibliográfico Mexicano, no. 4 (1903), 456. 29. Gazeta de México for June 1735, Boletín del Instituto Bibliográfico Mexicano, no. 4 (1903), 544–45. 76 AN “EVOLVED” DEVOTIONAL BOOK this miraculous Cristo in this convent church’s chapel of the Señor de Burgos, named for a famously miraculous Spanish crucifix and sponsored by Mexico City’s Cantabrian immigrants.30 The Cristo de los Desagravios remained there until the Franciscans were removed from the convent and church during the Wars of Reform in the 1860s.31 The mystique of “portraits” of miraculous images remained a defining feature of religiosity in late-colonial Mexico. Even prints could be more than teaching aids, coaxing feelings of love, contrition, and hope that joined with written and spoken words as a language of faith. Prints of miraculous images similar to this one were displayed on home altars throughout New Spain in the eighteenth century or carried on journeys as talismans. When such prints were published in devotional histories and novena booklets, it was not unusual for them to be removed for use as devotional objects in their own right.32 According to its caption, this print depicts a “prodigious image” of the crucified Christ that bled from the wound in its side for all to see. It represents a public testimonial of faith in 30. University of California, Berkeley, Bancroft Library M-M 105, manuscript copy of José Gómez, “Diario de México,” p. 121, February 25, 1780. The Christ of Burgos was venerated in replicas displayed in several eighteenth-century Mexican churches. I am not certain whether or not the chapel in question was the old one of San Joseph now rededicated to the Christ of Burgos. Noticias de Mexico, recogidas por D. Francisco Sedano, vecino de esta ciudad desde el año de 1756 … [compiled in 1800], (Mexico, 1880), I, 207, seems to suggest that the chapel of San Joseph was remade into the chapel of the Señor de Burgos “of native Montañeses in the atrium of our father St. Francis” rather than being an entirely new one. 31. The miraculous Christ was then moved to the church of Jesús Nazareno (adjoining the hospital founded by Fernando Cortés in the sixteenth century), along with the cloth relic. According to the 1922 edition of Terry’s Guide to Mexico (Boston, 1922), p. 348, an inscription next to the glass encased Cristo declared “to the effect that: ‘At 9 p.m. on the seventeenth of November 1732, during a fearsome earthquake, the figure became transformed; that it bled so copiously from the wound in its side a sheet was necessary to catch the flow, and when this sheet [still preserved] was opened it was found to be covered with small red crosses. This occurrence is duly recorded in the church records and sworn to by the clerics who lived at that period.’” The stone inscription in Spanish mentioned by Terry, with the same mistaken date—1732 instead of 1731—can now be seen in the room housing the archive of the cathedral chapter in Mexico City’s cathedral complex. 32. Apparently for this reason the copies of these books and booklets in the collections of rare books libraries and on the rare books market often lack the original print. For a promising attempt to explore quotidian acts of piety with religious paintings and statuary in domestic settings, see Rosalva Loreto López, “Familial Religiosity and Images in the Home: Eighteenth-Century Puebla de los Ángeles, Mexico,” Journal of Family History, 22 (1997), 26–49. Loreto López draws from notarial inventories of artworks in the homes of wealthy Puebla families as her main evidence. She includes as illustrations several prints but does not address them as a genre of imagery used by these families. W ILLIAM B. TAYLOR 77 God’s presence in the world, holding out the promise of yet other divine favors in the here and now at the altar of this prodigious statue. In contrast to how popular prints were valued and used, the Tesoro de paciencia is a text of the reformed piety, instructing the believer in inward “mental prayer or inner approaches to God” (“oración mental o trato interior de Dios”) that would set the soul free. It called for disciplined, sustained meditation on the passion and death of Christ as model of forbearance in the face of extreme hardship, and the source of consolation and divine mercy. Almeida’s focus was on perfecting the soul, living righteously, like Christ, even in a sinful world. How did these countercurrents of a more austere, rational piety exemplified by Almeida’s text and recommended by neo“Jansenist” religious reformers on the one hand and baroque expressions of faith, including miracles, activation of images, and lavish churches and public rituals, on the other meet in the late eighteenth century? There is no one answer, but this little book in its altered state suggests that the two could coexist, at least for the particular Christian meditating on the passion of Christ who pasted in this print of Mexico City’s miraculous Cristo de los Desagravios. Conclusion The physical appearance of this little book opens a window onto several aspects of Mexican Catholicism in the capital city near the turn of the nineteenth century. There is the circulation of imported devotional literature, engraved prints produced locally, images of Christ that gained fame as wonder workers, and, especially, female devotion, whether among lay sisters associated with beaterios or in the homes of elite families. But as an artifact of the time, its most arresting feature is the addition of the devotional print of a miraculous image of Christ to this text of reformed piety about Christ’s suffering and endurance as model of personal discipline. The presence of the print is a reminder that the austere piety of late-eighteenth-century reformers did not simply efface older patterns, particularly the mystique of images and ritual activities associated with them. If we can believe the more flamboyant religious reformers of the time, old and new ways of devotion collided and the new, as a kind of crusade against ignorance, superstition, and waste, was on the rise. If so, how should we interpret the inclusion of the print of the miraculous crucifix, so prominently displayed at the beginning of the text? Was this a kind of dissent against reforms that were meant to scrub piety clean of joy and the comforting assurance of divine presence and favor in the world? Or was it another in a long line of everyday acts of piety that accepted the new without giving up the old? My guess is that the person who inserted this print regarded doing 78 AN “EVOLVED” DEVOTIONAL BOOK so as a natural expression of her faith, and that we distort the thinking of many practicing Catholics in this time and place by accepting the idea that a book like the Tesoro de paciencia was part of an unprecedented assault on baroque spiritual practices, or even that reformers who did think in such black-and-white terms represent reformers of the time in general. The Conde de Orizaba’s Franciscan neighbors had long been known for staging annual penitential processions devoted to Christ’s passion and atonement for the sins of mankind that combined personal acts of contrition, including flagellation, with public display of local crucifixes and expressions of collective grief.33 The practice of carrying crucifixes in processions from their great convent church in Mexico City was so ingrained in popular tradition that it continued during Corpus Christi observances even after 1752 when the archbishop issued instructions that only the consecrated Host could be displayed in public that day.34 And there is good reason to think that right at the Mexico City Franciscans’ altar of the Cristo de los Desagravios in the chapel of the Cristo de Burgos Felipa or Cypriana would have found a kindred spirit in one of the leading reformers of the time, Fr. Fernando Martagon, O.F.M. Martagon (1740–1804) is regarded as a voice of reformed piety in Mexico City from the 1770s to the early 1810s, authoring popular books of devotional exercises on the passion of Christ and the sorrows of Mary designed to guide devotees toward atonement for their sins (“los santos desagravios”) through personal identification with the suffering of Christ and Mary, much as Almeida directed in the Tesoro de paciencia.35 But Martagon was also closely associated with 33. For example, the October 1731 issue of the Gazeta de México reported that on October 16, “an edifying procession to complete the annual holy exercises for the atonement of Christ Our Lord went out from the main convent of Our Father St. Francis” (“salió del Convento Grande de Nuestro Padre San Francisco edificativa procesión con que anualmente se termina el ejercicio Santo de los desagravios de Christo Nuestro Señor”), Boletín del Instituto Bibliográfico Mexicano, no. 4 (1903), 279. 34. Biblioteca Nacional de México, Archivo Franciscano caja 142 doc. 1736 fol. 1r. In a marginal note made before 1776 the archivist, Fr. Francisco de la Rosa Figueroa, made the tart observation that “the plans in this letter have never been realized. The annual Corpus Christi procession leaving from this convent has always gone out with images and confraternity members, without interruption.” 35. Larkin describes Martagon as a reformer in these terms, using as his example the author’s Exercicios espirituales para desagraviar a María Santísima Nuestra Señora de los Dolores, published in Mexico City in 1799 and reprinted in 1802 and 1807; see The Very Nature of God, p. 162. In the same vein of piety is Martagon’s better known Manual de exercicios espirituales para practicar los santos desagravios de Christo Señor Nuestro published in Mexico City in 1770 and reprinted at least ten times between 1781 and 1810. Martagon was not the first author published in Mexico to offer spiritual exercises focused on Christ’s passion and atonement for WILLIAM B. TAYLOR 79 the miraculous Cristo de los Desagravios in the Franciscans’ chapel of the Cristo de Burgos, serving as chaplain there and publishing a novena booklet for veneration of “the prodigious image of the Most Holy Cristo de los Agravios” that included a print of the Cristo as the frontispiece.36 To top off his devotion to the Cristo de los Desagravios, Martagon was the benefactor of the new side altar dedicated to the miraculous image that was completed in 1780.37 Martagon, too, seems to have embraced a more restrained, disciplined, personal faith without rejecting the idea of enchantment in the world. the sins of mankind. See Francisco de Soria, Manual de exercicios, para los desagravios de Christo Señor Nuestro . . . , (Puebla, 1686), which was reprinted in Mexico City and Puebla at least eighteen times between 1697 and 1793. 36. Devota rogación en forma de novena para venerar a la prodigiosa imagen del Ssmo Christo de los desagravios: a fine de impetrar su singularissimo patrocinio en la conversion de los pecadores . . ., (Mexico, 1772). The title page of the 1782 edition of the Manual de exercicios espirituales para practicar los santos desagravios de Christo Señor Nuestro identifies Martagon as “primer Capellán del Santísimo Christo de Burgos de Señores Montañeses.” Martagon’s father paid for this printing of the manual. 37. Bancroft Library M-M 105, manuscript copy of José Gómez, “Diario de México,” p. 121, February 25, 1780. Medieval Studies in The Catholic Historical Review GILES CONSTABLE AND SCOTT G. BRUCE* This article examines the character and scope of research on medieval Catholicism published in The Catholic Historical Review. It considers the rate of publication of medieval scholarship in the journal over the past century and classifies these contributions by subject matter and geographical focus. The article also shows how The Catholic Historical Review has widened its scope since the Second Vatican Council to include new approaches to the medieval past. As a result, the journal has emerged as an important venue for historical research in medieval ecclesiastical history. Keywords: papacy, Investiture Controversy, Avignon, monasticism, religious orders, hagiography, missionaries, crusades, women D uring the first 100 years of publication, The Catholic Historical Review (CHR) published more than 230 articles, review essays, and miscellaneous notes concerned with the history of Europe in the Middle Ages. It has also published many hundreds of reviews of books treating this period. This article looks at the chronological distribution of this scholarship, which varied over the years and presumably reflected the policy of the editors as well as the submission of articles by the authors, and classifies the articles by subject matter, showing the range and to some extent the changes and variety of the fields into which they fall. Together, the criteria of rate of publication and of subject matter give an insight not only into the history of the CHR but also into the development of medieval studies in North America during the past century. The first part of the article provides a survey of the contours of medieval scholarship in the CHR. It shows how the early character of the journal as one dedicated to the history of American Catholicism soon gave way to a widening of scope in the 1920s that included studies of medieval church history. After an initial *Prof. Constable is professor emeritus of medieval history at the Institute for Advanced Study, Princeton, and Prof. Bruce is associate professor in the Department of History at the University of Colorado at Boulder, email: Scott.Bruce@colorado.edu. The authors have omitted all religious titles (Reverend, Sister, etc.) from the names of authors, but have left unchanged the divergent use of “medieval” and “mediaeval” in the titles of articles and journals. 72 GILES CONSTABLE AND SCOTT G. BRUCE 73 burst of medieval contributions in 1923 and the years following, however, there was a relative dearth of articles dealing with the Middle Ages until the early 1990s, when medieval history came to the fore once again. The second part of the article examines the medieval subjects and regions most and least represented in the journal’s publications on the Middle Ages. It is clear that the research on medieval Catholicism published in the CHR is definitively “history” and not “medieval studies” more generally. Unsurprisingly, articles on the papacy and the religious orders abound. There is also considerable material on hagiography and missionary activity. In contrast, the CHR has published comparatively little on topics for which medieval sources are particularly strong, like mysticism and devotion, exegesis, canon law, the universities, and the liturgy. Moreover, the history of some parts of Europe in the Middle Ages, most notably England and Spain, have been emphasized more than others. Lastly, this article considers how in the decades since the Second Vatican Council the CHR has widened its scope to include many new approaches to the study of Christianity in the Middle Ages, from the application to medieval hagiography of critical methodologies to the inclusion of studies on women in medieval religion. Although somewhat late to the game in adopting these approaches compared to publications specializing in the European Middle Ages, the CHR has nonetheless come to represent the broadest possible range of historical research in medieval ecclesiastical history as practiced in the United States today and has established itself as an important venue for the publication of current scholarship on a variety of topics related to the history of the Church in the Middle Ages. The Contours of Medieval History During the early years of the CHR, from 1915 to 1920, when it had the subtitle “For the Study of the Church History of the United States,” medieval articles were rare in the pages of the journal. There were some noteworthy exceptions, however. Two articles on the Acta Sanctorum, a massive critical compendium of medieval saints’ lives begun in the seventeenth century, demonstrated the abiding interest among Catholic scholars in the enterprise of the Bollandists and its fate in the aftermath of World War I. In an invited article, Robert Lechat provided American readers with a short history in French of the aims and methods of the Acta Sanctorum, as well as an introduction to the scholarship that it had inspired.1 1. Robert Lechat, “Les ‘Acta Sanctorum’ des Bollandistes,” The Catholic Historical Review (hereafter CHR), 6 (1920), 334–42. 74 MEDIEVAL STUDIES IN THE CATHOLIC HISTORICAL REVIEW Lechat concluded with the assurance that the project would resume publication after the “sudden and prolonged halt in production” caused by the Great War.2 As a pendant to this article, Patrick A. Collis provided an exegetical reading of Jean Bolland’s 1643 preface to the Acta Sanctorum, with ample translations from the Latin, “in order to encourage acquaintance with the original, and to create a deeper interest in the Acta Sanctorum, an ‘Opus Magnum,’ too little appreciated and too seldom invoked.”3 Other articles treated topics relevant to the prehistory of the United States, including a history of the Christian church in Greenland, from its putative introduction in the early-eleventh century through to its decline in the fourteenth century, and a long treatise on the legend of St. Brendan, the elusive early-medieval Irish saint whose mythical sea voyages may have been “one of the moving causes that led Columbus to the discovery of the New World.”4 The only review of a book on medieval European history was of Cuthbert Butler’s Benedictine Monachism, which touched on monasticism in America as well as in other parts of the world.5 This situation changed in 1921 with the publication of volume 7, when the subtitle “For the Study of the Church History of the United States” was dropped from the journal. At this point, the opening to the Middle Ages was primarily to papal history. Articles on this topic ranged from character studies of individual popes to the history of the development of the papacy as a spiritual institution and a temporal power. Among the popes, Sylvester II and Gregory VII drew special attention, the former as a “pope-philosopher” in the darkest of centuries and the latter as an unparalleled reformer.6 Despite the pretense of objectivity, these studies 2. Ibid., here p. 341: “L’arrêt brusque et prolongé dans la production.” 3. Patrick A. Collis, “The Preface of the ‘Acta Sanctorum,’” CHR, 6 (1920), 294–307, here 294. 4. Laurence M. Larson, “The Church in North America (Greenland) in the Middle Ages,” CHR, 5 (1919), 175–94; Joseph Dunn, “The Brendan Problem,” CHR, 6 (1921), 395–477, here 477. See also the uncredited article “The Medieval American Church,” CHR, 3 (1917), 210–27, which provided the Latin texts and English translations of medieval ecclesiastical sources relevant to the history of the see of Gardar in Greenland, and the note by Francis J. Schaefer, “The Kensington Rune Stone,” CHR, 6 (1920), 330–34, on the 1898 discovery in Minnesota of a stone bearing a runic inscription purporting that Scandinavian explorers had penetrated the American heartland as early as the fourteenth century. Scholars generally agree that these inscriptions are a modern forgery. 5. Review by J. E. Rothensteiner of Cuthbert Butler, Benedictine Monachism: Studies in Benedictine Life and Rule (London, 1919), CHR, 6 (1921), 531–32. 6. Thomas Oestreich, “The Personality and Character of Gregory VII in Recent Historical Research,” CHR, 7 (1921), 35–43; William P. H. Kitchin, “A Pope-Philosopher of the Tenth Century: Sylvester II (Gerbert of Aurillac),” CHR, 8 (1922), 42–54. GILES CONSTABLE AND SCOTT G. BRUCE 75 are unabashedly hagiographical in their treatment of their subjects.7 Medieval articles with a broader view encompassed the role of the bishops of Rome in the formation of the papal states and the history and legacy of the Pactum Callixtinum, the legal modus vivendi agreed upon in 1122 by Henry V and Pope Callixtus II at Worms to bring the Investiture Controversy to a close.8 The quantity of reviews also increased at this time, but relatively few of them were of books devoted to medieval subjects. The number of articles on medieval topics increased dramatically in volume 9 (1923), which contained twelve medieval contributions out of a total of twenty articles. This represents not only a considerable rise in the number of medieval articles published by the journal but also a broadening of horizon beyond the history of the papacy into intellectual and cultural history, as well as the history of medieval religious life.9 Among them were articles on early-medieval scientific knowledge and the CHR’s only foray into the field of medieval music.10 Noteworthy as well is Patrick J. Healy’s long and spirited apologetic review article (“Muckraking Monasticism”) in response to the appearance of the first volume of G. G. Coulton’s Five Centuries of Religion, wherein the reviewer defended at great length the dignity of the principles of the institution of monasticism against the “utterly distorted impression” presented in Coulton’s book, which he con- 7. See, for example, Oestreich, “Personality and Character of Gregory VII,” p. 41: “Gregory VII stands forth a pure and lofty genius, a passionate lover of justice, and a devout servant of God. … In his private life he exhibited an austere virtue; but hardness was not a note of his character.” See also Kitchin, “Pope-Philosopher of the Tenth Century,” p. 46: “similarly out of the violence and ignorance, the bloodshed and vice of the tenth century, God drew the great scholar and thinker, who was one day to rule His Church, and whose life-story we have undertaken to unfold briefly.” 8. Joseph M. Woods, “The Rise of the Papal States Up to Charlemagne’s Coronation,” CHR, 7 (1921), 44–54; P. W. Browne, “The Pactum Callixtinum: An Innovation in Papal Diplomacy,” CHR, 8 (1922), 180–90. There was also an uncredited note on “The Pallium,” CHR, 8 (1922), 64–71. 9. See, for example, Edwin Ryan, “Spanish Influence in Medieval Europe,” CHR, 9 (1923), 67–73; Maurice De Wulf, “Mystic Life and Mystic Speculation in the Heart of the Middle Ages,” CHR, 9 (1923), 175–89; Egerton Beck, “Regulars and Their Appropriated Churches in Medieval England,” CHR, 9 (1923), 205–16; and the note on “The False Decretals,” CHR, 9 (1924), 566–69. 10. See Francis S. Betten, “Knowledge of the Sphericity of the Earth during the Earlier Middle Ages,” CHR, 9 (1923), 74–90, with its companion piece “An Alleged Champion of the Sphericity of the Earth in the Eighth Century,” CHR, 10 (1924), 187–201, and Daniel Joseph Donohue, “The Sacred Songs of the Middle Ages,” CHR, 9 (1923), 217–35, which offers translations of several Latin hymns but says almost nothing about the accompanying music. 76 MEDIEVAL STUDIES IN THE CATHOLIC HISTORICAL REVIEW demned as a “monument of misdirected energy, of zeal frustrated by venomous prejudice.”11 The reasons for this shift toward medieval subjects are unclear. That it was not an explicit change of policy is shown by the description of the CHR in a talk given by Healy at the 1918 meeting of the American Society of Church History and reprinted in volume 8 of the CHR, saying that it “aims primarily at dealing with the history of the Catholic Church in the United States.”12 But the inclusion of so many articles on medieval topics clearly marked a significant shift in the journal’s practice. In the decades that followed, the CHR can be said to have moved into the mainstream of historical journals concerned, among other things, with all aspects of the Middle Ages. Throughout the late 1920s, the number of medieval articles, review essays, and notes grew steadily, though never again to the level of volume 9. Volumes 10–17 (1925–31) had a total of twenty-nine articles and notes dealing with the European Middle Ages and more than seventy-five reviews. Among the articles, some of which will be referred to individually later, are studies of the papacy (especially the Gregorian Reform, Innocent III, and Boniface VIII), episcopal elections, church councils, monasticism, and individual saints, including Ælred and Columba. A few were concerned with secular figures such as Matilda of Tuscany and on rare occasions with secular subjects such as peace laws in France and, oddly, medieval parliaments.13 This period was also marked by a short-lived interest in the material culture of medieval sources, especially Zoltán Haraszti’s evocative essay on the preparation of parchment, and the illumination and calligraphy of manuscripts.14 11. Patrick J. Healy, “Muckraking Monasticism,” CHR, 9 (1923), 247–55, here 253 and 254. The CHR devoted two review articles and several reviews to Coulton and his work in response to his alleged anti-Catholicism. The others, though critical, are milder in tone than Healy’s. See also Gerald Christianson, “G. G. Coulton: The Medieval Historian as Controversialist,” CHR, 57 (1971), 421–41. 12. Patrick J. Healy, “Recent Activities of Catholic Historians,” CHR, 8 (1922), 169– 79, here 173. 13. Florance M. Gillis, “Matilda, Countess of Tuscany,” CHR, 10 (1924), 234–45; Mary Joseph Aloysius, “Peace Laws and Institutions of Mediaeval France,” CHR, 12 (1926), 379–97; Robert Howard Lord, “The Parliaments of the Middle Ages and the Early Modern Period,” CHR, 16 (1930), 125–44. 14. Zoltán Haraszti, “Medieval Manuscripts,” CHR, 14 (1928), 237–47. See also Raphael M. Huber, “Papyrus and Early Vellum Bulls,” CHR, 15 (1929), 183; Eva Matthews Sanford, “The Liber Floridus,” CHR, 26 (1941), 469–78; Jill R. Webster, “Unlocking Lost Archives: Medieval Catalan Franciscan Communities,” CHR, 66 (1980), 537–50; F. A. C. Mantello, “Medieval Diplomata in the Library of The Catholic University of America, GILES CONSTABLE AND SCOTT G. BRUCE 77 The proportion of medieval contributions to the CHR decreased after volume 17 (1931), however, and remained relatively low until the early 1990s. During this long period, most volumes had one or two medieval contributions, but some—at least a dozen, by our count—had none at all, aside from an occasional note or review. Whether this was the result of editorial policy or of a dearth of submissions is difficult to ascertain. The articles that were published ranged broadly in subject, as will be seen, and included several on medieval secular society and institutions as well as the Church. A few were concerned with the East, including Eastern Europe and Russia, and with the crusades and military orders, which later figured much more prominently. A similar decline in the number of medieval articles can be seen in other general historical journals, including the American Historical Review. The establishment in North America of several academic journals devoted exclusively to medieval history—such as Speculum: A Journal of Medieval History (1925–); Mediaeval Studies (1939–); Traditio: Studies in Ancient and Medieval History, Thought and Religion (1943–); and Viator: Medieval and Renaissance Studies (1970–)—undoubtedly played a role in this decline by providing medievalists with new, more specialized venues for the publication of their research. The editorial role of John Tracy Ellis may have also been a factor in the poor representation of medieval history in the CHR in this period. Ellis was the managing editor of the CHR from 1941 to 1962 and continued to serve as an advisory editor until his death in 1992. A champion of American Catholic studies, Ellis likely chose to showcase the history of the Church in the United States during his period of leadership at the expense of the ecclesiastical history of the Middle Ages. It may be no coincidence that his death coincided with the end of a long drought in the appearance of medieval subjects in the CHR. In any case, 1993 marked a significant change in direction, as the number of medieval contributions increased considerably from volume 79 to the present. Fifty-eight medieval articles have appeared over the past twenty years, an average of almost three articles per volume, representing about a fifth of the total number of articles published in the CHR during this time. These studies in particular provide a barometer of the continuity and changes in the subject matter of the contributions on medieval history that have appeared in the CHR and thus throw light on the development of the field of medieval church history over the course of the past century. Washington, D.C.,” CHR, 70 (1984), 581–86. The CHR has published little, except in the context of specialized articles on other topics, on the technical aspects of the study of medieval history such as diplomatics, paleography, and numismatics. 78 MEDIEVAL STUDIES IN THE CATHOLIC HISTORICAL REVIEW Topics of Medieval History The single largest subject category of medieval contributions to the CHR is concerned, not surprisingly, with the papacy as an institution and with the characters and contributions of individual popes. The names of eighteen pontiffs from the eighth to the fifteenth centuries appear in the titles of articles, often in combination with another individual or topic, such as a particular nation or crusade.15 Among the medieval popes, Innocent III (1198–1216) has figured most prominently in a litany of studies on his policies and influence.16 Indeed, scholarly interest in the genius behind the ambitious and influential Fourth Lateran Council (1215), which introduced the doctrine of transubstantiation to the Church, did not seem to flag over the course of the twentieth century. Articles in the CHR treating the medieval papacy ranged in scope from surveys of the state of the question in papal scholarship to articles on the papacy as an institution and detailed evaluations of discrete aspects of the careers of individual pontiffs.17 At least eight articles, spread out over the entire history of the CHR, attest to the enduring importance of the Investiture Controversy and the reform of the papacy in the eleventh century, starting with two bibliographical articles written by Thomas Oestreich, in volumes 7 (1921) and 17 (1931), which dealt with recent publications on Pope Gregory VII and on the Gregorian reform, respectively.18 An early study by Charles E. Schrader argued against the prevailing notion of a “constitutional theory of church government” in the early Middle Ages in order to downplay the novelty of the centralizing reforms instituted by Leo IX and Gregory VII in the eleventh century.19 Later articles introduced new avenues of research 15. This does not include Pope Joan, whose legend was the subject of a recent presidential address: Thomas F. X. Noble, “Why Pope Joan?” CHR, 99 (2013), 219–38. 16. See, for example, Francis S. Betten, “A Justification of Innocent III,” CHR, 16 (1930), 145–63; Charles Edward Smith, “Innocent III, Defender of the Clergy,” CHR, 32 (1947), 415–29; and John C. Moore, “Innocent III’s De Miseria Humanae Conditionis: A Speculum Curiae?” CHR, 67 (1981), 553–64. 17. Surveys: Thomas F. X. Noble, “Morbidity and Vitality in the History of the Early Medieval Papacy,” CHR, 81 (1995), 505–40. Papacy as an institution: Robert T. Ingoglia, “I Have neither Silver nor Gold: An Explanation of a Medieval Papal Ritual,” CHR, 85 (1999), 531–40. Individual pontiffs: David Harry Miller, “Papal-Lombard Relations during the Pontificate of Pope Paul I: The Attainment of an Equilibrium of Power in Italy, 756–767,” CHR, 55 (1969), 358–76. 18. Oestreich, “Personality and Character of Gregory VII”; Oestreich, “The Hildebrandine Reform and Its Latest Historian,” CHR, 17 (1931), 257–67. 19. Charles E. Schrader, “The Historical Development of the Papal Monarchy,” CHR, 22 (1936), 259–82, here 259. GILES CONSTABLE AND SCOTT G. BRUCE 79 by considering how economic factors influenced the course of the reform.20 In the past two decades, the trend has been for scholars to focus on the impact of developments in the history of canon law and the influence of ecclesiastical legislators on the origins of the clash between Gregory VII and Henry IV.21 In contrast to the Investiture Controversy, the history of the Avignon papacy of the fourteenth century has been the topic of only four articles in the CHR, none of them recent. This paucity of studies may be because the so-called “Babylonian Captivity of the Church” in southern France has traditionally marked a low point in the history of the late-medieval papacy, when a succession of seven French pontiffs directed the Church from the city of Avignon in Provence in cooperation with the kings of France. Contributions to the CHR that treat the popes of Avignon have steered away from controversy by focusing on tangential topics, like the social background of Pierre Roger, who became Pope Clement V (1342–52), or by emphasizing the positive contributions made by the Avignon popes in this period, like their diplomatic activities as power brokers and peace-makers during the Hundred Years’ War and the reorganization of the papacy as an institution during the pontificate of Pope John XXII (1316–34), who inherited an ecclesiastical network teetering on the verge of financial collapse and succeeded in creating an administrative archive that John Weakland called “a marvel of efficiency.”22 Articles on church synods and councils are comparatively few and far between, perhaps reflecting the papal orientation of the CHR. Even these 20. See, for example, Demetrius B. Zema, “Reform Legislation in the Eleventh Century and Its Economic Import,” CHR, 27 (1941), 16–38, and Jon N. Sutherland, “The Recovery of Land in the Diocese of Grenoble during the Gregorian Reform Epoch,” CHR, 64 (1978), 377–97, which concentrates on eastern France but sheds light on a more general aspect of the policy of the reformers, who sought to recover church property alienated during the previous two centuries. 21. William Ziezulewicz, “The School of Chartres and Reform Influences before the Pontificate of Leo IX,” CHR, 77 (1991), 383–402; Kathleen G. Cushing, “Anselm of Lucca and the Doctrine of Coercion: The Legal Impact of the Schism of 1080?” CHR, 81 (1995), 353–71; Uta-Renate Blumenthal’s 1997 presidential address, “The Papacy and Canon Law in the Eleventh-Century Reform,” CHR, 84 (1998), 201–18. 22. See, respectively, John E. Wrigley, “Clement VI before His Pontificate: The Early Life of Pierre Roger, 1290/91–1342,” CHR, 56 (1970), 433–73; John Gruber, “The Peace Negotiations of the Avignon Popes,” CHR, 19 (1933), 190–99; Arpad Steiner, “Florentine Influence at Avignon in 1365,” CHR, 27 (1942), 438–43; and John E. Weakland, “Administrative and Fiscal Centralization under Pope John XXII, 1316–1334,” CHR, 54 (1968), 39– 54, 285–310, here 287. 80 MEDIEVAL STUDIES IN THE CATHOLIC HISTORICAL REVIEW few studies tend to treat ecclesiastical conferences convened in response to some aspect of papal history. An early article on the Council of Whitby (664), which decided in favor of the primacy of Rome over the Irish in the nascent Anglo-Saxon Church, was followed by a number of studies on late-medieval and early-modern councils, most notably the Council of Constance (1414–18), which brought an end to the schism known as the Three-Popes Controversy and condemned the heretical teachings of Jan Hus.23 While some of these studies are primarily of regional interest, two articles treat different aspects of conciliarism, the late-medieval reform movement born in the wake of the Avignon papacy that elevated the ecumenical council to the highest expression of authority in the Church.24 A relatively recent retrospective study of “the importance which the Councils have allotted to tradition for the interpretation of Scripture” rounds out this topic in the pages of the CHR.25 A number of articles deal with missionary work and the activity of the Church on and beyond the boundaries of Christendom. These studies range broadly in time from Carolingian missionary efforts among the pagan Saxons in the decades around 800 AD to the ambitions of the Franciscans to convey the message of the Gospel to the Muslims and the Tartars in the thirteenth century and later.26 Christian missionaries faced a 23. Francis S. Betten, “The So-Called Council of Whitby, 664 A.D.,” CHR, 13 (1928), 620–29; Richard W. Emery, “The Second Council of Lyons and the Mendicant Orders,” CHR, 39 (1953), 257–71; Zoltan J. Kosztolnyik, “In the European Mainstream: Hungarian Churchmen and Thirteenth-Century Synods,” CHR, 79 (1993), 413–33. On the Council of Constance, see George C. Powers, “Nationalism at the Council of Constance,” CHR, 14 (1928), 171–204, and Thomas E. Morrissey, “Emperor-Elect Sigismund, Cardinal Zabarella, and the Council of Constance,” CHR, 69 (1983), 353–70. 24. Regional studies: W. Stanford Reid, “Scotland and the Church Councils of the Fifteenth Century,” CHR, 29 (1943), 1–24, and William Patrick Hyland, “Reform Preaching and Despair at the Council of Pavia-Siena (1423–1424),” CHR, 84 (1998), 409–30. Conciliarism: Brian Tierney, “A Conciliar Theory of the Thirteenth Century,” CHR, 36 (1951), 415–40, and Christopher M. Bellitto, “The Early Development of Pierre d’Ailly’s Conciliarism,” CHR, 83 (1997), 217–32. 25. Walter Brandmüller, “Traditio Scripturae Interpres: The Teaching of the Councils on the Right Interpretation of Scripture up to the Council of Trent,” CHR, 73 (1987), 523–40. 26. Carolingian missionaries: Richard E. Sullivan, “Carolingian Missionary Theories,” CHR, 42 (1956), 273–95; Ruth Mazo Karras, “Pagan Survivals and Syncretism in the Conversion of Saxony,” CHR, 72 (1986), 553–72; and David F. Appleby, “Spiritual Progress in Carolingian Saxony: A Case from Ninth-Century Corvey,” CHR, 82 (1996), 599–613. Franciscan missionaries: Livarius Oliger, “Franciscan Pioneers amongst the Tartars,” CHR, 16 (1930), 249–75; Hilmar C. Krueger, “Reactions to the First Missionaries in Northwest Africa,” CHR, 32 (1946), 275–301; Adam L. Hoose, “Francis of Assisi’s Way of Peace? His Conversion and Mission to Egypt,” CHR, 96 (2010), 449–69; and more generally Mathias GILES CONSTABLE AND SCOTT G. BRUCE 81 variety of dangers far from home in the service of the faith. They often received a hostile reception and risked martyrdom at the hands of nonChristian peoples. Canonization records from the thirteenth century show a resurgence in martyrdom as evidence of the sanctity of missionaries in the later Middle Ages.27 As James D. Ryan has shown, missionary reports from late-medieval India remain the best source for the presence of European preachers and merchants on the Indian subcontinent in the late 1300s and highlight the relationship among missionary work, commerce, and exploration in the premodern world.28 In the area of ecclesiastical institutions, there are more than twentyfive contributions on monasticism and religious orders, most of which are quite recent. An early study by Alfred H. Sweet on the visitation articles of Ely was among the first medieval contributions to the CHR and almost the only one devoted to the publication of an archival document.29 It was followed by Sweet’s article on papal privileges for English monks.30 There was then a gap of more than fifty years with nothing on monasticism or the religious orders except for an article on the commercial activity of thirteenth-century Cistercians.31 In the past few decades the number of monastic contributions has increased dramatically as interest in monastic history has grown among English-speaking scholars.32 Other long-stand- Braun, “Missionary Problems in the Thirteenth Century: A Study in Missionary Preparation,” CHR, 25 (1939), 146–59. 27. James D. Ryan, “Missionary Saints of the High Middle Ages: Martyrdom, Popular Veneration, and Canonization,” CHR, 90 (2004), 1–28; Christopher MacEvitt, “Martyrdom and the Muslim World through Franciscan Eyes,” CHR, 97 (2011), 1–23. 28. James D. Ryan, “European Travelers before Columbus: The Fourteenth Century’s Discovery of India,” CHR, 79 (1993), 648–70. 29. Alfred H. Sweet, “A Set of Monastic Visitation Articles,” CHR, 7 (1922), 482–84. 30. Alfred H. Sweet, “Some Papal Privileges of the English Benedictines,” CHR, 10 (1924), 399–411. During this period, Sweet also contributed an article titled “The Control of English Episcopal Elections in the Thirteenth Century,” CHR, 12 (1927), 573–82. Sweet died before the completion of his monograph on the relationship between the papacy and the monks of England, but a portion of the book was published posthumously as an article titled “The Apostolic See and the Heads of English Religious Houses,” Speculum, 28 (1953), 468–84. 31. James Eugene Madden, “Business Monks, Banker Monks, Bankrupt Monks: The English Cistercians in the Thirteenth Century,” CHR, 49 (1963), 341–64. 32. The most recent examples include William Chester Jordan’s 2009 presidential address, “The Anger of the Abbots in the Thirteenth Century,” CHR, 96 (2010), 219–33, and Steven Vanderputten, “Abbatial Obedience, Liturgical Reform, and the Threat of Monastic Autonomy at the Turn of the Twelfth Century,” CHR, 98 (2012), 241–70. Only two articles in the CHR deal with Cluny and the monastic reform movements of the tenth and eleventh centuries and none with Cluny itself: Rosalind Kent Berlow, “Spiritual Immunity at Vézelay (Ninth to Twelfth Centuries),” CHR,62 (1976), 573–88, and John Howe, 82 MEDIEVAL STUDIES IN THE CATHOLIC HISTORICAL REVIEW ing journals of medieval history, like Speculum and Traditio, also reflect this trend. Likewise, approximately the same number of contributions are devoted to the Mendicant Orders, especially the Franciscans and Dominicans, as to monks and nuns. The Franciscans on the whole figure less prominently than the Dominicans, however, partly owing to a cluster of four articles on the Dominican Order in England contributed by William Hinnebusch, which constitute in and of themselves an important body of scholarship on the history of the order.33 Studies of hagiography and sanctity have also witnessed a resurgence in the pages of the CHR, for much the same reason as those on monasticism and the religious orders. After early contributions on the Bollandists and the Acta sanctorum and an article titled “The Saint’s Life in Vernacular Literature in the Middle Ages,” there is an interval of many decades before the appearance in the 1980s of three important review articles on new methodological approaches to medieval hagiography by John Howe, which we discuss below.34 While historians have only begun to plumb the depths of saints’ lives as sources for the history of the medieval Church (beyond their transparent devotional purpose), the saints themselves have always been a topic of interest. The CHR included a large number of articles on individual saints over its century-long history, including (in alphabetical order) Ælred of Rievaulx, Anianus, Thomas Aquinas, Bernard of Clairvaux, Brendan, Carino of Balsamo, Catherine of Siena, Columba, Cuthbert, and Elias of Cortona. Many topics relevant to the history of the medieval Church have not been as well represented in the pages of the CHR as the monastic orders and the saints. Bishops have on the whole received little attention, with the exception of a general article by Geoffrey Barraclough on “The Making of a Bishop in the Middle Ages,” Alfred H. Sweet’s study of English episcopal elections in the thirteenth century, and three articles on Hincmar of “Monasteria Semper Libera: Cluniac-Type Monastic Liberties in Some Eleventh-Century Central Italian Monasteries,” CHR, 78 (1992), 19–34. 33. William A. Hinnebusch’s contributions include: “Diplomatic Activities of the English Dominicans in the Thirteenth Century,” CHR, 28 (1942), 309–39; “The Personnel of the Early English Dominican Province,” CHR, 29 (1943), 326–46; “The Domestic Economy of the Early English Dominicans,” CHR, 30 (1944), 247–70; and “Poverty in the Order of Preachers,” CHR, 45 (1960), 436–53. 34. J. D. M. Ford, “The Saint’s Life in Vernacular Literature of the Middle Ages,” CHR, 17 (1931), 268–77. On the articles on the Bollandist enterprise, see Lechat, “Les ‘Acta Sanctorum,’” and Collis, “The Preface.” GILES CONSTABLE AND SCOTT G. BRUCE 83 Rheims.35 The small number of articles on the history of law is counterbalanced by the distinction of their authors, including Walter Ullmann and Stephan Kuttner.36 Canon law fares somewhat better, although not until the second half-century of the CHR. After an article on “The False Decretals” in 1924, there was nothing on canon law until the appearance, more than forty years later, of a series of notes and studies by Brian Tierney, James Brundage, and Uta-Renate Blumenthal.37 More recent contributions on individual canonists, including those on Hincmar of Rheims, cited above, and on Anselm of Lucca and Ivo of Chartres, round out the CHR’s modest contents related to canon law.38 Likewise, the history of education and universities owes much to the industry of a single scholar, Astrik Gabriel, who published an article on “The Ideal Master of the Mediaeval University” and review articles on “The College of the Lombards in Paris” and “Matriculation Books at Medieval Universities.”39 In contrast, many other important topics are barely touched upon at all. The number of contributions on the liturgy is small, as are studies of the history of doctrine, heresy, and spirituality. The history of devotion and mysticism likewise appears only rarely in the CHR and with long gaps between relevant contributions. Articles on intellectual history, exegesis, historiography, and political theory are unusual. Unsurprisingly, contributions on the arts and literature are rare. The largest single category of articles, which has so far only been touched upon, are regional studies, among which the most abundant and 35. Geoffrey Barraclough, “The Making of a Bishop in the Middle Ages: The Part of the Pope in Law and Fact,” CHR, 19 (1933), 275–319; Sweet, “A Set of Monastic Visitation Articles.” On Hincmar, see Henry G. J. Beck, “Canonical Election to Suffragan Bishoprics According to Hincmar of Rheims,” CHR, 43 (1957), 137–59; Beck, “The Selection of Bishops Suffragan to Hincmar of Rheims, 845–882,” CHR, 45 (1959), 273–308; and Mary E. Sommar, “Hincmar of Reims and the Canon Law of Episcopal Translation,” CHR, 88 (2002), 429–45. 36. Walter Ullmann, “A Mediaeval Philosophy of Law,” CHR, 31 (1945), 1–30; Stephan Kuttner, “Legal History: The Case for a Neglected Field of Studies,” CHR, 44 (1959), 409–20. 37. See, for example, Brian Tierney, “Medieval Canon Law and Western Constitutionalism,” CHR, 52 (1966), 1–17. See also James Brundage, “‘Allas! That Evere Love Was Synne’: Sex and Medieval Canon Law,” CHR, 72 (1986), 1–13, and Blumenthal, “The Papacy and Canon Law.” For the early note on the False Decretals, see CHR, 9 (1924), 566–69. 38. Cushing, “Anselm,” pp. 353–71; Bruce C. Brasington, “Crusader, Castration, Canon Law: Ivo of Chartres’ Letter 135,” CHR, 85 (1999), 367–82. 39. Astrik L. Gabriel, “The Ideal Master of the Mediaeval University,” CHR, 60 (1974), 1–40; “The College of the Lombards in Paris,” CHR, 78 (1992), 74–79; “Matriculation Books at Medieval Universities,” CHR, 82 (1996), 459–68. 84 MEDIEVAL STUDIES IN THE CATHOLIC HISTORICAL REVIEW important are those on England and Spain. Indeed, there are more articles on English medieval history than on the papacy, including those that have already been discussed on monasticism and the mendicants. While AngloSaxon England has always been a marginal period of interest in the CHR, there are several articles on the English Church in the later Middle Ages, owing in no small part to the survival of medieval episcopal registers. As might be expected from studies of this kind of source, “problems” are a dominant theme in this scholarship. Troubles caused by wayward clerics, the use of incomes derived from benefices, the general administration of local parishes, and a host of other issues demanded the attention of latemedieval English bishops.40 Other articles on England and the later Middle Ages examined the relationship between British monarchs and aristocrats and the Church.41 Spain comes only just after England in number of articles, largely owing to the contributions of Robert Burns, Joseph O’Callaghan, and Bernard Reilly. On this topic, the CHR was a forerunner as a venue for studies concerning a region of Europe that has only in the past two decades emerged as a focus of intense scholarly activity in North America. As with most medieval topics, early articles on medieval Spain were few and far between. From the late 1960s, however, the CHR published a steady stream of research on Iberian history, starting with a study of French prelates in eleventh-century Spain by Reilly, who later contributed more articles on the thirteenth century.42 Meanwhile, Burns wrote articles, notes, and a review article on the conflict and cooperation among Christians, Jews, and Muslims in late-medieval Spain, whereas Joseph O’Callaghan contributed “The Foundation of the Order of Alcántara, 40. A. Daniel Frankforter, “The Reformation and the Register: Episcopal Administration of Parishes in Late Medieval England,” CHR, 63 (1977), 204–24; T. E. Carson, “The Problem of Clerical Irregularities in the Late Medieval Church: An Example from Norwich,” CHR, 72 (1986), 185–200; Michael Burger, “Peter of Leicester, Bishop Godfrey Giffard of Worcester, and the Problem of Benefices in Thirteenth-Century England,” CHR, 95 (2009), 453–73. 41. Joseph H. Dahmus, “Richard II and the Church,” CHR, 39 (1954), 408–33; John T. Appleby, “The Ecclesiastical Foundations of Henry II,” CHR, 48 (1962), 205–15; Joel T. Rosenthal, “Richard, Duke of York: A Fifteenth-Century Layman and the Church,” CHR, 50 (1964), 171–87. 42. Bernard F. Reilly, “Santiago and Saint Denis: The French Presence in EleventhCentury Spain,” CHR, 54 (1968), 467–83; “Bishop Lucas of Túy and the Latin Chronicle Tradition in Iberia,” CHR, 93 (2007), 767–88; “Alfonso VIII, the Castilian Episcopate, and the Accession of Rodrigo Jiménez de Rada as the Archbishop of Toledo in 1210,” CHR, 99 (2013), 437–54. GILES CONSTABLE AND SCOTT G. BRUCE 85 1176–1218,” and “The Ecclesiastical Estate in the Cortes of Léon-Castile, 1252–1350.”43 Further studies by younger scholars of medieval Spain followed in their footsteps, with the result that the CHR remains one of the most important English-language venues for the publication of research on the Spanish Church in the Middle Ages.44 In contrast with England and Spain, only a handful of articles in the history of the CHR are devoted to the other major regions of medieval Europe. In total, there are six studies on France, six on Italy, and five on the German Empire.45 These numbers seem surprisingly small, putting these regions on par with those on the periphery of Europe, which have also been underrepresented in the CHR. For example, there are two articles on Celtic Christianity, two— fewer perhaps than might be expected— on the Irish Church, two on Scotland in the later Middle Ages by W. Stanford Reid, two on Scandinavia, two on Eastern Europe (one on Hungary and one on Poland), and two on Russia.46 “Italian Churches in the 43. Robert I. Burns, “Renegades, Adventurers, and Sharp Businessmen: The Thirteenth-Century Spaniard in the Cause of Islam,” CHR, 58 (1972), 341–66; “The Spiritual Life of James the Conqueror, King of Arago-Catalonia, 1208–1276: Portrait and Self-Portrait,” CHR, 62 (1976), 1–35 (his presidential address); “The Naughty Canon of Catalonia and the Sack Friars: The Dynamics of ‘Passage’ from Monk to Mendicant,” CHR, 94 (2008), 245–59. Joseph O’Callaghan, “The Foundation of the Order of Alcántara, 1176–1218,” CHR, 47 (1962), 471–86; “The Ecclesiastical Estate in the Cortes of León-Castile, 1252– 1350,” CHR, 67 (1981), 185–213. 44. See, for example, Paulette L. Pepin, “The Church of Castile-Léon and the Cortes of 1295,” CHR, 87 (2001), 165–84, and Jeffrey A. Bowman, “The Bishop Builds a Bridge: Sanctity and Power in the Medieval Pyrenees,” CHR, 88 (2002), 1–16. 45. The most recent examples must suffice. France: Ruth Harwood Cline, “Abbot Hugh: An Overlooked Brother of Henry I, Count of Champagne,” CHR, 93 (2007), 501– 16. Germany: Jennifer Kolpacoff Deane, “Archiepiscopal Inquisitions in the Middle Rhine: Urban Anticlericalism and Waldensianism in Late Fourteenth-Century Mainz,” CHR, 92 (2006), 197–224. Italy: Sherri Franks Johnson, “Convents and Change: Autonomy, Marginalization, and Religious Affiliation in Late-Medieval Bologna,” CHR, 97 (2011), 250–75. 46. Celtic Christianity: Francis S. Betten, “The Adoption of the Roman Easter Calculation by the Island Celts,” CHR, 14 (1929), 485–99, and L. Gougaud, “The Celtic Liturgies Historically Considered,” CHR, 16 (1930), 175–82. Irish Church: John E. Sexton, “The Birthplace of St. Patrick: An Essay in Textual Criticism,” CHR, 17 (1931), 131–50, and Thomas Oakley, “The Origins of Irish Penitential Discipline,” CHR, 19 (1933), 320–32. Scotland: Reid, “Scotland and the Church Councils of the Fifteenth Century,” and “The Origins of Anti-Papal Legislation in Fifteenth-Century Scotland,” CHR, 29 (1944), 445–69. Scandinavia: Edith M. Almedingen, “The Catholic Church in the Early North,” CHR, 13 (1927), 383–93, and Anthony Perron, “Metropolitan Might and Papal Power on the LatinChristian Frontier: Transforming the Danish Church around the Time of the Fourth Lateran Council,” CHR, 89 (2003), 182–212. Eastern Europe: Zoltan J. Kosztolnyik, “The Negative Results of the Enforced Missionary Policy of King Saint Stephen of Hungary: The Uprising 86 MEDIEVAL STUDIES IN THE CATHOLIC HISTORICAL REVIEW Byzantine Empire to 1204” is the only article in the CHR devoted to Byzantium, although it also concerns Italy.47 These contributions are so slight in number that they lack the thematic coherence of the many articles on medieval England and Spain. The eastern Mediterranean and the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, on the other hand, are the subject of many articles, owing to the number of contributions on the crusades, especially in the last half century, when America was particularly active in crusading historiography. The CHR has been at the forefront of publishing articles on the current state of the question in crusade studies, first in 1964 with James A. Brundage’s “Recent Crusade Historiography: Some Observations and Suggestions,” and most recently in 2009 with James M. Powell’s “The Crusades in Recent Research.”48 A significant number of articles and notes study the crusading ideals and activities of individual popes in the Holy Land, Spain, and the Baltic, including (in chronological order) Urban II, Innocent IV, Gregory IX, Honorius III, and Eugene IV.49 Several articles deal with the Latin states established by the crusaders in the East, with an emphasis on the meaning and invocation of the city of Jerusalem for Western Europeans.50 Others, most notably a pair of contributions by the crusade historian Jonathan Riley-Smith, study how the Church and clergy settled in the Latin East and organized and administered their new holdings there.51 of 1046,” CHR, 59 (1974), 569–86, and Paul W. Knoll, “Poland as Antemurale Christianitatis in the Late Middle Ages,” CHR, 60 (1974), 381–401. Russia: Cyril Toumanoff, “Moscow the Third Rome: Genesis and Significance of a Politico-Religious Idea,” CHR, 40 (1955), 411–47, and Joseph L. Wieczynski, “The Donation of Constantine in Medieval Russia,” CHR, 55 (1969), 159–72. 47. Gerald W. Day, “Italian Churches in the Byzantine Empire to 1204,” CHR, 70 (1984), 379–88. 48. James A. Brundage, “Recent Crusade Historiography: Some Observations and Suggestions,” CHR, 49 (1964), 493–507; James M. Powell, “The Crusades in Recent Research,” CHR, 95 (2009), 313–19. 49. See, respectively, Marshall W. Baldwin, “Some Recent Interpretations of Pope Urban II’s Eastern Policy,” CHR, 25 (1940), 459–66; Robert I. Burns, “A Lost Crusade: Unpublished Bulls of Innocent IV on Al-Azraq’s Revolt in Thirteenth-Century Spain,” CHR, 74 (1988), 440–49; Richard Spence, “Pope Gregory IX and the Crusade in the Baltic,” CHR, 69 (1983), 1–19; James M. Powell, “Honorius III and the Leadership of the Crusade,” CHR, 63 (1977), 521–36; and Thaddeus V. Tuleja, “Eugenius IV and the Crusade of Varna,” CHR, 35 (1949), 257–75. 50. Bernard Hamilton, “The Impact of Crusader Jerusalem on Western Christendom,” CHR, 80 (1994), 695–713; M. Cecilia Gaposchkin, “The Place of Jerusalem in Western Crusading Rites of Departure (1095–1300),” CHR, 99 (2013), 1–28. 51. Marshall W. Baldwin, “Ecclesiastical Developments in the Twelfth Century Crusaders’ State of Tripolis,” CHR, 22 (1936), 149–71; Jonathan Riley-Smith, “Latin Titular GILES CONSTABLE AND SCOTT G. BRUCE 87 Finally, another group of articles is concerned with the military orders and also relate to medieval religious life.52 A small number of contributions on Franciscan missionary activity among the Muslims, discussed above, took place within the context of the thirteenth-century crusades and thus overlap with these articles on the religiosity of the military orders. Lastly, there are many articles that fall outside of these categories that are nonetheless noteworthy. General articles of significance include “Greatness in Mediaeval History,” a presidential address by Gerhart Ladner, who said that “the Middle Ages were an essentially Christian era in which individual greatness specified or supplemented, as it were, an ultimate personal ideal which was holiness.”53 Among the relatively early medieval contributions to the CHR were two historiographical studies on “Mediaeval Studies in America” and on “Mediaevalism in the Modern World,” which must be one of the earliest works on a subject that has recently attracted considerable attention.54 Several studies are devoted to the works of individual scholars such as Francis Dvornik, Paul Sabatier and his life of Francis of Assisi, and the art historian Émile Mâle, which is of particular interest in view of the comparatively little attention paid in the CHR to the field of art history.55 Bishops in Palestine and Syria, 1137–1291,” CHR, 64 (1978), 1–15; Richard B. Rose, “Church Union Plans in the Crusader Kingdoms: An Account of a Visit by the Greek Patriarch Leontios to the Holy Land in A.D. 1177–1178,” CHR, 73 (1987), 371–90; Jonathan Riley-Smith, “The Latin Clergy and the Settlement in Palestine and Syria, 1098–1100,” CHR, 74 (1988), 539–57. 52. O’Callaghan, “The Foundation,” pp. 471–86; Charles L. Tipton, “The English and Scottish Hospitallers during the Great Schism,” CHR, 52 (1966), 240–45; Malcolm Barber, “The Templars and the Turin Shroud,” CHR, 68 (1982), 206–25; Sophia Menache, “The Templar Order: A Failed Ideal?” CHR, 79 (1993), 1–21; Malcolm Barber, “The Order of Saint Lazarus and the Crusades,” CHR, 80 (1994), 439–56; James W. Brodman, “Rule and Identity: The Case of the Military Orders,” CHR, 87 (2001), 383–400. 53. Gerhart B. Ladner, “Greatness in Mediaeval History,” CHR, 50 (1964), 1–26, here 4. 54. Martin R. P. McGuire, “Mediaeval Studies in America: A Challenge and an Opportunity for American Catholics,” CHR, 22 (1936), 12–26; Herbert H. Coulson, “Mediaevalism in the Modern World,” CHR, 26 (1941), 421–32. 55. Ludvik Nemec, “The Festive Profile of Francis Dvornik, the Scholar, the Historian, and the Ecumenist,” CHR, 59 (1973), 185–211; C. J. T. Talar, “Saint of Authority and the Saint of the Spirit: Paul Sabatier’s Vie de S. François d’Assise,” CHR, 82 (1996), 23–39; Joseph F. Byrnes, “Reconciliation of Cultures in the Third Republic: Émile Mâle (1862– 1954),” CHR, 83 (1997), 401–27. 88 MEDIEVAL STUDIES IN THE CATHOLIC HISTORICAL REVIEW Medieval History Today Like many Catholic institutions, the CHR came to reflect the influence of the Second Vatican Council (1962–65) and the Church’s call for renewal and relevance in a rapidly changing modern world. In terms of medieval scholarship, this meant a new open-mindedness to reading historical sources critically, even when those sources call into question a dogma of the Church. This change was not immediate, and at first it was most apparent in review articles. In the 1970s, a book on the topic of papal infallibility produced a flurry of debate that showed the tensions regarding the identity of the CHR. It began with Alfons M. Stickler’s long and critical review of Brian Tierney’s book Origins of Papal Infallibility, 1150– 1350: A Study in the Concepts of Infallibility, Sovereignty and Tradition in the Middle Ages (1972).56 Prefect of the Vatican Library in Rome from 1971 to 1983, Stickler chafed at Tierney’s conclusion that the doctrine in question was a creation of the thirteenth century. He condemned the premise of the book, which “authoriz[ed] such a bold renunciation of a dogma of the Church” and judged that “it is not convincing, and therefore the historicotheological conclusions which are supposed to be the main results of his whole inquiry are not acceptable.”57 Much like Schrader’s defense of papal authority, Stickler argued that Tierney was wrong not to consider evidence from the early Middle Ages, where the primary elements of papal infallibility found its roots.58 The CHR published a response from Tierney the very next year, in which the historian defended his claim that the late-thirteenth-century Franciscan theologian Peter Olivi was the first proponent of this doctrine, which was unattested in earlier medieval canonical texts.59 Moreover, Tierney argued that it was anachronistic to interpret medieval proof-texts later used to support the infallibility of the pope as indicative of that doctrine before it was first formulated in the thirteenth century.60 He flatly accused Stickler of reading the historical evidence through the lens of church doc- 56. Alfons M. Stickler, “Papal Infallibility: A Thirteenth-Century Invention? Reflections on a Recent Book,” CHR, 60 (1974), 427–41. 57. Ibid., pp. 429 and 440, respectively. 58. Schrader, “Historical Development of the Papal Monarchy.” 59. Brian Tierney, “Infallibility and the Medieval Canonists: A Discussion with Alfons Stickler,” CHR, 61 (1975), 265–73. 60. Ibid., p. 266: “The only conceivable reason for interpreting these texts as implying a doctrine of papal infallibility might be that, according to Vatican Council I, the doctrine of papal infallibility has always existed in the Church; therefore, there must be some evidence of its existence; and these texts are the best evidence that can be produced for our period.” GILES CONSTABLE AND SCOTT G. BRUCE 89 trine, rather than the other way around.61 Stickler, for his part, clung fast to his position that Catholic historians could reconcile “the fundamental truths of faith” with modern historical methods.62 There was no public rapprochement between these two scholars on this issue, but the appointment in 1984 by Pope John Paul II of Leonard Boyle, an Irish North American scholar of medieval studies and paleography, as Stickler’s successor as prefect of the Vatican Library was a clear indication that critical approaches to medieval Christianity had gained considerable ground on historical theology in the decades after the Second Vatican Council. Beginning in the 1980s, the CHR was on the forefront of discussions of new methodological approaches to medieval sources for Christian history. This was most apparent in the field of hagiography with the publication of three review articles by John Howe, a prominent expert on medieval sanctity. The first of these, “Saintly Statistics” (1984), concerns quantitative studies of saints’ lives and canonization records by André Vauchez, Michael Goodich, Donald Weinstein, and Rudolph M. Bell. These works were “the first monographs systematically to quantify wide-ranging data on medieval sanctity taken from the original sources.”63 There followed “Saints and Society through the Centuries” (1986), which discusses two 61. Ibid., p. 271: “Father Stickler’s basic assertion is that a scholar who sets out to write the history of a theological doctrine must write as a theologian. This apparently involves not only accepting the truth of current doctrinal formulations, but also interpreting the data of the past in accordance with them. Obviously this is not the way in which historians do their work.” Compare Martin McGuire’s comments in his 1936 essay: “Our primary qualification [as medieval historians] is simply that we are Catholics. Our familiarity with things Catholic as heirs to an unbroken religious tradition prevents us from realizing how tremendous an advantage our Catholicism really is in investigating so many phases of the Catholic civilization of Mediaeval Europe.” “Mediaeval Studies in America,” p. 18. 62. Alfons M. Stickler, “A Rejoinder to Professor Tierney,” CHR, 61 (1975), 274–79, here 279. Debates on this subject simmered in the pages of the CHR and other journals for almost a decade, but it is telling that these arguments took place between historians on the question of historical evidence rather than on the methodological issues that divided Stickler and Tierney. Thomas Turley, “Infallibility in the Curia of Pope John XXII,” Journal of Medieval History, 1 (1975), 71–101, downplayed the originality of Olivi and the Franciscans and emphasized the role of Peter de Palu and his circle in the curia of Pope John XXII in the formation of this doctrine. D. L. d’Avray, “A Letter of Innocent III and the Idea of Infallibility,” CHR, 66 (1980), 417–21, draws attention to a passage in a letter of Innocent III that “anticipates by many decades the crisis in the Franciscan Order on which Tierney’s argument hinges” (420). Rejoinders followed: Brian Tierney, “A Letter to the Editor,” CHR, 66 (1980), 700–701; D. L. d’Avray, “Origins of the Idea of Infallibility: A Rejoinder to Professor Tierney,” CHR, 67 (1981), 60–64; and Brian Tierney, “Papal Infallibility: A Response to Dr. d’Avray,” CHR, 67 (1981), 275–77. 63. John Howe, “Saintly Statistics,” CHR, 70 (1984), 74–82, here 74. 90 MEDIEVAL STUDIES IN THE CATHOLIC HISTORICAL REVIEW collections of essays that situate medieval saints’ lives “in a wider chronological and social perspective” through the use of early modern and modern comparisons.64 Although these books were flawed, Howe lauded their ambitious attempt “to present hagiographical research as a field of study not just for isolated, somewhat antiquarian specialists but also for historians seeking to understand the social, psychological, and religious dynamics of human development.”65 By the early 1990s, the recent publication of several groundbreaking research guides on the sources for medieval saints’ lives and the methods for examining them prompted Howe’s final review essay, “Hagiographical Handbooks” (1994).66 Over the past two decades, the CHR has widened the scope of its vision to include articles on topics in medieval history that had previously received little representation in its pages. The history of women and the Church is a subject only recently addressed by contributors to the journal, putting it well behind the mainstream of other academic periodicals that embraced the study of medieval women and gender history in the pioneering days of the 1970s and ’80s.67 Aside from two early notes on Catherine of Siena and Matilda of Tuscany, medieval women were absent from the journal as the objects of historical inquiry until 1999, when Elizabeth Makowski published an article on canonical views of women in the fourteenth century.68 Since then, the CHR has provided a venue for research on the female confraternity at Bergamo, the piety of Margery Kempe, women in the Premonstratensian order, and convents in late-medieval Bologna.69 Less successful has been the integration of the history of 64. John Howe, “Saints and Society through the Centuries,” CHR, 72 (1986), 425–36, here 427. 65. Ibid., p. 436. 66. John Howe, “Hagiographical Handbooks,” CHR, 80 (1994), 757–61. See also Julia H. M. Smith, “Early Medieval Hagiography in the Late Twentieth Century,” Early Medieval Europe, 1 (1992), 69–76. 67. There is a useful survey of this historiography by Judith M. Bennett and Ruth Mazo Karras, “Women, Gender and Medieval Historians,” in The Oxford Handbook of Women and Gender in Medieval Europe, ed. Judith M. Bennett and Ruth Mazo Karras (Oxford, 2013), pp. 1–17. 68. N. Georges, “A Problem in the Life of St. Catherine of Siena,” CHR, 9 (1923), 255–62; Florance M. Gillis, “Matilda, Countess of Tuscany,” CHR, 10 (1924), 234–45; Elizabeth Makowski, “Mulieres Religiosae, Strictly Speaking: Some Fourteenth-Century Canonical Opinions,” CHR, 85 (1999), 1–14. 69. Maria Teresa Brolis, “A Thousand and More Women: The Register of Women for the Confraternity of Misericordia Maggiore in Bergamo, 1265–1339,” CHR, 88 (2002), 230– 46; Raymond A. Powell, “Margery Kempe: An Exemplar of Late Medieval English Piety,” CHR, 89 (2003), 1–23; Shelley Amiste Wolbrink, “Women in the Premonstratensian Order GILES CONSTABLE AND SCOTT G. BRUCE 91 medieval Jews in the CHR. There was a moment in the early 1990s when the history of Jewish-Christian relations in the Middle Ages seemed poised to obtain the same kind of attention that medieval women would eventually receive in the journal.70 But the dire policies of the medieval papacy toward the Jews require a critical distance that modern scholars clearly have not yet reached for research of this kind to be published in a journal devoted to Catholic history. Indeed, the fact that Charles Burns spent the first half of his review article on a major collection of documents on papal policy toward the Jews in the Middle Ages shoring up the gains of the late-twentieth century, from the promotion of interfaith dialogue at the Second Vatican Council to the (then) recent establishment of full diplomatic relations between the Vatican and the State of Israel in 1994, suggests a reluctance to delve deeper into these chapters of the history of the Church.71 The recent increase in articles about medieval history in the CHR is also a result of the growing number of medievalists who have served as president of the American Catholic Historical Association (ACHA). In the early decades of the CHR, scholars of modern Catholicism played the most active roles in the leadership of the organization. This situation changed in the 1960s and ’70s, when several prominent historians of the Middle Ages were presidents of the ACHA, including Gerhart B. Ladner (1963), Brian Tierney (1965), David Herlihy (1971), and Robert I. Burns (1975). Since 1980, however, more than one-third of the presidents have been historians of the Middle Ages, including some who were not Catholics.72 Many of them are formidable scholars in their respective subfields (canon law, French and Spanish history, mysticism, the papacy) who have likewise served at the highest level of other professional historical associations such as the Medieval Academy of America and the American of Northwestern Germany, 1120–1250,” CHR, 89 (2003), 387–408; Johnson, “Convents and Change.” 70. See, for example, the review article by Robert I. Burns, “The Barcelona ‘Disputation’ of 1263: Conversionism and Talmud in Jewish-Christian Relations,” CHR, 79 (1993), 488–95, and Norman Roth, “Bishops and Jews in the Middle Ages,” CHR, 80 (1994), 1–17. 71. Charles Burns, “The Popes and the Jews: From Gelasius I to Julius III (492–1555),” CHR, 83 (1997), 75–85, which reviews the eight volumes of Shlomo Simonsohn’s magisterial The Apostolic See and the Jews, published by the Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies in Toronto between 1988 and 1991. 72. Joseph F. O’Callaghan (1980), Robert Brentano (1983), James Brundage (1985), Bernard F. Reilly (1988), Caroline Walker Bynum (1993), Uta-Renate Blumenthal (1997), Joseph H. Lynch (2001), Bernard McGinn (2003), James M. Powell (2006), William Chester Jordan (2009), Larissa Juliet Taylor (2011), and Thomas F. X. Noble (2012). 92 MEDIEVAL STUDIES IN THE CATHOLIC HISTORICAL REVIEW Historical Association. Their administrative role in the ACHA no doubt played an important part in attracting the attention of medieval historians to the CHR. Moreover, many of their presidential addresses not only bolstered the number of articles on medieval topics published in its pages, but also provided examples of the kind of critical historical research that has come to define the medieval scholarship published in the journal.73 Conclusion The CHR enters its 100th year of publication as an important venue for the study of medieval church history as practiced in the United States. While the journal has published articles on the medieval Church since the 1920s, contributions to the CHR over the course of the twentieth century have favored certain topics of research on medieval Catholicism over others. From the beginning, the history of the papacy has dominated the pages of the CHR, as have studies of monasticism and the religious orders, saints’ lives and sanctity, and missions and missionaries. Moreover, the history of some parts of Europe in the Middle Ages have been emphasized more than others, primarily England, which is not surprising given the strong influence of English medieval history on American scholars, and Spain, which is rather more surprising but owes much to the strong ties of a handful of important historians to the CHR. The eastern Mediterranean and the crusades are also well-represented in the journal, largely owing to its long-standing emphasis on papal history rather than the comparatively recent shift of attention to the medieval Mediterranean among medieval 73. O’Callaghan, “Ecclesiastical Estate in the Cortes of Leon-Castile”; James Brundage, “‘Allas!,” pp. 1–13; Blumenthal, “Papacy and Canon Law in the Eleventh-Century Reform”; Bernard McGinn, “‘Evil-Sounding, Rash, and Suspect of Heresy’: Tensions between Mysticism and Magisterium in the History of the Church,” CHR, 90 (2004), 193– 212; James M. Powell, “Church and Crusade: Frederick II and Louis IX,” CHR, 93 (2007), 251–64; Jordan, “Anger of the Abbots in the Thirteenth Century”; Larissa Juliet Taylor, “Joan of Arc, the Church, and the Papacy, 1429–1920,” CHR, 98 (2012), 217–40; Noble, “Why Pope Joan?” Exceptions include Robert Brentano, “The Historian and Preservation: ‘A Shallow Village Tale,’” CHR, 70 (1984), 217–24, on the topic of historical restoration and preservation with no reference to the Middle Ages; Bernard F. Reilly, “Christianity and Context,” CHR, 75 (1989), 205–10, on Christian community and self-definition through the ages; and Caroline Walker Bynum, “Images of the Resurrection Body in the Theology of Late Antiquity,” CHR, 80 (1994), 215–37, who wrote on a late-antique topic that was propedeutic to her book The Resurrection of the Body in Western Christendom, 200–1336 (New York, 1995). Joseph H. Lynch’s presidential address “The Letter(s) of Christ” was delivered by proxy when illness prevented him from attending the annual meeting of the ACHA in 2000, but to our knowledge it was never published. GILES CONSTABLE AND SCOTT G. BRUCE 93 historians. Since the 1960s, however, the CHR has also embraced new ways of understanding the sources for medieval Catholicism and has published articles on new topics relevant to the history of the medieval Church, especially the role of women. These trends represent a broadening of intellectual horizons that have contributed to making the CHR one of the most influential venues for the publication and promotion of a wide range of scholarship on the history of Christianity in the Middle Ages. “Not Because They Are Catholic, But Because We Are Catholic”: The Bishops’ Engagement with the Migration Issue in Twentieth-Century America TODD J. SCRIBNER* From the mid-nineteenth to the mid-twentieth century American Catholic bishops were mainly guided by two priorities in their work on behalf of migrants arriving in the United States: providing for the pastoral and material needs of their flock and advocating for fellow Catholics. In the second half of the twentieth century the primary rationale behind the bishops’ migration-related activities began to shift. Although pastoral and institutional considerations remained important, a universal moral ethic—a “social mission”—became more pronounced as the guiding force behind the Church’s work with migrant populations. Keywords: bishops, Catholic social teaching, immigration, migration, refugees I n spring 2011, The Catholic University of America and the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB) cosponsored the conference “The Catholic Church and Immigration: Pastoral, Policy and Social Perspectives.” The keynote speech of Cardinal Theodore McCarrick of Washington, DC, focused on the Church’s policy and pastoral work with migrant communities. He emphasized the important role played by the Church’s moral tradition in shaping its response and guiding its activities. A key point was when McCarrick noted that the Church’s support for migrant populations occurs “not because they are Catholic, but because we are Catholic.”1 *Dr. Scribner is the education outreach coordinator of the USCCB’s Migration and Refugee Services, email: tj_scribner@yahoo.com. The author wishes to thank Grainńe McEvoy who provided helpful feedback and support in the development of this article. The opinions herein are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the policies or positions of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. 1. Cardinal Theodore McCarrick, “The Universal Church as a Defender of the Rights of Migrants,” unpublished keynote speech at “The Catholic Church and Immigration: 74 TODD J. SCRIBNER 75 This statement, said to have originated with McCarrick’s predecessor Cardinal James Hickey, espouses a nonsectarian rationale for the Church’s outreach efforts.2 It also represents an important development in the rationale used by the Church in its engagement with the public sphere. This is particularly evident in the case of its migration-related work. Ecclesiastical activities in the mid-nineteenth century, the establishment in 1921 of the Bureau of Immigration of the National Catholic Welfare Council (NCWC, later the National Catholic Welfare Conference), and the work of clergy with displaced populations following World War II demonstrated that the Church’s outreach efforts were motivated in large part because the migrants it helped were Catholic. Over the course of roughly a century, American Catholic bishops were guided by two main priorities in serving emigrants to the United States: providing for the pastoral and material needs of their flock and advocating for fellow Catholics.3 Although the bishops were committed to the well-being of Catholic immigrants who arrived on American shores and were wary of Protestant attempts to convert such vulnerable individuals, their efforts to protect their own also ensured the stability of the U.S. Catholic Church as an institution. Thus the institutional and pastoral concerns of the Church were closely intertwined in this respect. The rationale that informed the bishops’ activities in this regard shifted in the decades following World War II. Pastoral and institutional considerations remained important, but a more universal moral ethic for the Church—its “social mission”—emerged as the guiding force behind its work with migrant populations. In a speech to the Catholic Press Association in 1979, Msgr. John J. Egan hinted at this shift when he noted that Pastoral, Policy and Social Perspectives,” Institute for Policy Research and Catholic Studies, The Catholic University of America, March 21, 2011. Bishop Nicholas DiMarzio of Brooklyn, among others, also used this saying in the context of immigration; see David Borowski, “A Catholic View on Immigration Reform,” Catholic Herald, September 15, 2010, accessed January 24, 2012, http://catholicherald.com/stories/A-Catholic-view-on-immigrationreform,13793. 2. Although versions vary, the common account is that Hickey was once asked by a concerned Catholic following Mass why the Church spends so much time, effort, and money to help the poor and marginalized, particularly since so many are not Catholic. His response was similar to the later one of McCarrick: “We do it not because they are Catholic, but because we are Catholic.” Walter Burghardt, Love Is a Flame of the Lord: More Homilies on the Just Word (Mahwah, NJ, 1995), p. 13. 3. This mind-set was not exclusive to the Catholic Church; up through mid-century it was widely taken for granted that religious agencies would be primarily responsible for resettling those in their denomination. See J. Bruce Nichols, The Uneasy Alliance: Religion, Refugee Work, and U.S. Foreign Policy (New York, 1988), p. 77. 76 THE BISHOPS’ ENGAGEMENT WITH THE MIGRATION ISSUE “what has been called the social mission of the church, long identified as a somewhat extraordinary and secondary work of the church, now seems in fact the very nature of the church’s presence in the world.”4 Such a development represented a reconfiguration of the hierarchy’s priorities regarding migrant populations—the social mission became ascendant, whereas pastoral and institutionally self-interested concerns moved to a secondary role.5 This is not to say that institutional and pastoral concerns became irrelevant or that the Church’s moral tradition was not important in all of its work with migrants. These are not mutually exclusive motivators and can be seen throughout the period under discussion. Nevertheless, political, social, economic, and religious conditions influenced which of these factors became the primary motivation at a given time. The insular and protective institutional identity that emerged before the Second Vatican Council can be explained as a response to an often unfriendly Protestant American culture and certainly affected the Church’s approach to its work with migrants. When the bishops and staff members at the NCWC invoked a moral tradition in defense of migrant interests, or took a position on migration-based legislation during the first half of the twentieth century, they often referred to the American tradition of human rights, the pursuit of happiness, and liberty; allusions to scripture, Catholic social teaching, or a well-developed theology of migration did not play a prominent role in their publicly expressed rhetoric on immigration. Given the tensions surrounding Protestant/Catholic relationships, such an approach is understandable. The phenomenal growth of the American Catholic Church in the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries can be attributed primarily to immigration that brought with it an array of stresses and strains. In 1815 some 200,000 Catholics lived in the United States; by 1865, the Roman Catholic Church had become the largest single denomination in the country, composed of more than 3.5 million members. A surge of immigration to the United States occurred in the 1840s, first 4. Msgr. John Egan, “The Church’s Social Mission: Tradition and Change,” speech to the Catholic Press Association, April 26, 1979, repr. in Origins, 46, no. 8 (1979), 725–26. 5. The analysis here regarding the motivations of the bishops with respect to their work with migrants is based primarily on internal memorandum, public statements, reports, and other documentation that originated at the National Catholic Welfare Council (and its other iterations), which is the “official mouthpiece” of the bishops on the national level. Given that the bishops are not monolithic in their thinking and hold differing priorities and opinions, a more comprehensive approach would require an analysis of the motivations of individual bishops. TODD J. SCRIBNER 77 from Ireland and subsequently from Germany. By the 1890s, this demographic began to shift, when large numbers of immigrants from Italy and Eastern Europe arrived. Catholic immigrants often confronted an adversarial Protestant culture that took a dim view of their presence in the United States and considered them a threat to American culture and political life.6 In response, leaders of the Church relied on an array of institutions that encompassed Catholic hospitals, welfare agencies, and resettlement programs and served communities of primarily Catholic immigrants. Given the diocesan character of most of these institutions, the Catholic Church “had no efficient organization at the national level to unify their work until 1917 when the National Catholic War Council was formed.”7 The setting of immigration policy at the federal level in the first decades of the twentieth century made this move an increasingly important development. The Establishment of the NCWC Bureau of Immigration In an October 29, 1920, letter to John J. Burke, C.S.P., the general secretary of the NCWC, Seattle judge Dudley G. Wooten (see figure 1) wrote to complain about the treatment of Catholic immigrants as they arrived at Ellis Island. In particular, he expressed concern about reports that the federal government had given authority to the YMCA to take charge of new arrivals from other countries until they reached their final destination. Placing Catholic immigrants under the control of Protestant organizations, he argued, amounted to an “outrageous violation of every principle of Americanism and of the fundamental doctrine of religious freedom,” opened the door for Protestant proselytizing, and gave an unfair opportunity to “convert him [the Catholic immigrant] to some one of the other discordant sects that are all banded together against the Catholic Church.”8 6. With respect to this adversarial response, see in particular Ray Allen Billington, The Protestant Crusade 1800–1860: A Study of the Origins of American Nativism (New York, 1938), and John Higham, Strangers in the Land: Patterns of American Nativism, 1860–1925 (New Brunswick, NJ, 1955). 7. Richard Linkh, American Catholicism and European Immigrants (Staten Island, NY, 1975), p. 68. In 1922, the council took on its more longstanding designation, the National Catholic Welfare Conference. 8. Washington, DC, The American Catholic History Research Center and University Archives (hereafter ACHR-CUA), Letter from Dudley G. Wooten to John J. Burke, October 29, 1920, National Catholic Welfare Council (hereafter NCWC), International Affairs: Immigration, 1920–1922, Box 39, Folder 25, http://cuomeka.wrlc.org/items/show/480. Although this article takes advantage of The Catholic University of America archives in Washington, DC, the Center for Migration Studies in New York also has important archival resources that focus on the Church’s work with migrant populations. 78 THE BISHOPS’ ENGAGEMENT WITH THE MIGRATION ISSUE FIGURE 1. Dudley G. Wooten, Texas legislator, U.S. congressman, judge, lawyer, University of Notre Dame law professor, and author. Image from “A Fake Story Hurts Texas,” Houston Daily Post, January 23, 1899, 6. In response, Burke expressed his shock at the indifference of the Catholic laity to immigrants, particularly because the problems confronting them “vitally affect our Catholic people and the salvation of souls.” He further promised that the NCWC would work on plans to address this issue.9 True to his word, Burke held a meeting five days later to discuss ways to address this problem. Here, he reiterated Wooten’s concern regarding the activities of the YMCA. It was decided that a director of immigration should be hired immediately and stationed in Washington, DC. In addition, it would also be important to pursue any opportunity that would allow the appointment of subdirectors to the ports of New York, Philadelphia, Boston, Baltimore, and Providence, who would help to coordinate the reception of immigrants at these various points of entry.10 Less than a week later, Burke wrote a letter to William Wilson, the first U.S. secretary of labor, and relayed concerns about the appointment of 9. Letter from John J. Burke to Dudley G. Wooten, November 5, 1920, NCWC, International Affairs: Immigration, 1920–1922, Box 39, Folder 25, ACHR-CUA, http://cuomeka.wrlc.org/items/show/480. 10. Immigration Problem Meeting Minutes, November 10, 1920, NCWC, International Affairs: Immigration, 1920–1922, Box 39, Folder 25, ACHR-CUA. TODD J. SCRIBNER 79 the YMCA to care for all incoming immigrants. He first inquired about the truth of this rumor, then expressed qualms about the overwhelming number of Protestant organizations that were stationed at Ellis Island and the absence of any substantial Catholic presence. He further noted that the NCWC never had been “consulted or advised or communicated with in any way in this question of immigration, although at least fifty percent of the immigrants arriving of late are Catholics.”11 Assistant Secretary of Labor Louis Post wrote to Burke, noting that he was unaware of any policy existing as that outlined by Burke in his inquiry, and, in fact, permission to establish facilities at Ellis Island “was given to non-official organizations without discrimination.”12 Dismissing the news reports to which Wooten had alluded in his initial correspondence with Burke, Post referred the letter to Immigration Commissioner of New York Frederick Wallis, who would be in a better position to respond.13 No public record appears to exist of a correspondence between Wallis and anyone in the NCWC on the issue of immigration. Nevertheless, the following spring Burke initiated a discussion with William Walter Husband, the newly appointed commissioner general of immigration, and requested to have the NCWC function as the official Catholic representative at the various ports of entry.14 At a meeting of Husband and Bruce Mohler, the newly appointed director of the NCWC Bureau of Immigration, the former expressed support for Catholic representation at Ellis Island.15 In a final letter to Husband, written prior to the NCWC’s approval to work at Ellis Island, Burke made the interesting assertion that the Church’s primary motivation to work there was not due to self-interest, but “primarily and solely for the immigrant, be he Catholic, Protestant, Jew or atheist.”16 11. Letter from John J. Burke to William Wilson, November 11, 1920, NCWC, International Affairs: Immigration, 1920–1922, Box 39, Folder 25, ACHR-CUA. 12. Letter from Louis Post to John J. Burke, November 17, 1920, NCWC, International Affairs: Immigration, 1920–1922, Box 39, Folder 25, ACHR-CUA. 13. Ibid. 14. Letter from John J. Burke to W. W. Husband, March 29, 1921, NCWC, International Affairs: Immigration, 1920–1922, Box 39, Folder 25, ACHR-CUA. 15. Bruce Mohler Interview with W. W. Husband, April 4, 1921, NCWC, International Affairs: Immigration, 1920–1922, Box 39, Folder 25, ACHR-CUA. 16. Letter from John J. Burke to W. W. Husband, May 6, 1921, NCWC, International Affairs: Immigration, 1920–1922, Box 39, Folder 25, ACHR-CUA. For documentation of official approval for the NCWC to work at Ellis Island, see the letter from the U.S. Department of Labor to John J. Burke, May 16, 1921, NCWC, International Affairs: Immigration, 1920–1922, Box 39, Folder 25, ACHR-CUA. 80 THE BISHOPS’ ENGAGEMENT WITH THE MIGRATION ISSUE Although there is no reason to doubt the sincerity of Burke or question his willingness to provide support to migrants regardless of religious identity, from a broader historical perspective the institutionally selfless motives expressed by him do not reflect either the public pronouncements or private correspondence between Church officials on this issue. Besides the initial correspondence between Burke and Wooten that expressed the danger posed by Protestant organizations to Catholic immigrants as they arrived, there are other reasons to doubt Burke’s expressed indifference to the Church’s self-interest in this matter. For example, soon after the creation of the Bureau of Immigration, the NCWC established an office in El Paso near the Mexico-U.S. border—a clear response to a survey “of Protestant activities among the Mexicans in El Paso (that) showed these groups to be especially active through schools, social work, etc., and with large financial resources at their disposal to win these Mexicans away from the Catholic faith.”17 Much of this office’s work over the next decade involved the provision of social services and pastoral care to primarily Catholic migrants crossing the border, along with efforts to improve relations with federal and state-level representatives in the area. Furthermore, repeated assertions in subsequent years highlighted the importance of protecting the Catholic identity of the migrant as the central consideration in the work of the Bureau. In the first of a four-article series written in 1926 that discussed the NCWC’s Bureau of Immigration, it was noted that the bureau “was inaugurated six years ago for the purpose of caring for Catholic immigrants of all nationalities coming from all over the world.”18 Six years later, in a lecture given to students at the National Catholic School of Social Service at The Catholic University of America, Mohler reiterated this point, noting that In their decision to form the N.C.W.C. Bureau of Immigration, the Bishops had as their objective the creation of a national Catholic immigrant aid organization which would rank with and be considered the equal of other national immigrant aid organizations, both sectarian and non-sectarian, and which would give assistance and protection to Catholic immigrants of all nationalities as well as serve as a clearing house for questions of emigration and immigration in which the Church 17. NCCW Annual Report, July 21, 1922–June 30, 1923, NCWC, Annual Reports, Box 65, Folder 18, ACHR-CUA. 18. These essays are not attributed to any author, but it is likely that Mohler contributed to their production. “N.C.W.C. Bureau of Immigration/Scope of the Organization,” December 15, 1926, NCWC, Mohler Papers, Box 36, Folder 4, ACHR-CUA. TODD J. SCRIBNER 81 in the U.S. is particularly concerned … the main purpose of course is to protect the faith of the Catholic immigrant …19 In an essay for the book Catholic Builders of the Nation, Bishop Edmund Dunne of Peoria emphasized the point that “the Catholic immigrant must at all costs be kept faithful to his religion; that has been the cardinal principle guiding the Church in all her dealings with immigrants…”20 Nearly two decades later, a report written at the Conference on the Church’s immigration work noted that the primary purpose of the Bureau of Immigration was “to provide protection for their faith, most necessary at that time when proselytizing by Protestant church workers was so widespread in the country.”21 For the first decade of the bureau’s existence, the Church focused on providing for the spiritual and material needs of newly arrived immigrants. In the subsequent two decades the primary migrant populations with which the Church interacted began to shift. With the implementation of quota-based legislation passed in 1924, traditional forms of immigration began to slow and thus the bureau’s work with migrants experienced a lull. This situation began to change with the growing numbers of displaced persons affected by the rise of Nazi Germany and the outbreak of World War II. The populations seeking the Church’s services began to change, but the rationale that motivated its work did not. The Great Depression and World War II According to the predominant ideology of the day, many Catholics living in Germany in the prewar period were not considered to be Aryan and thus experienced discrimination under Nazi rule. Yet, despite the growing fascist oppression of Catholics and those from other faiths, throughout most of the 1930s the American bishops remained relatively silent on this issue. This situation began to change in fall 1936, when the German hierarchy asked the American Church for help in the resettlement of German Catholics persecuted by the Nazis. In requesting support, the German 19. Bruce Mohler, “Lecture at the National Catholic School of Social Work,” April 27, 1932, NCWC, Box 31, Folder 5, ACHR-CUA. Emphasis added. 20. Bishop Edmund Dunne, Catholic Builders of the Nation: A Symposium on the Catholic Contribution to the Civilization of the United States (New York, 1935), p. 4. 21. Bruce Mohler, “Report on Immigration to the United States and Participation by Agencies of the Church,” December 21, 1953, NCWC, Mohler Papers, Box 36, Folder 2, ACHR-CUA. 82 THE BISHOPS’ ENGAGEMENT WITH THE MIGRATION ISSUE Church invoked a sense of Catholic solidarity, proclaiming that “this is an appeal to Catholics, by Catholics, on behalf of distressed Catholics.”22 In November 1936 the American bishops established a U.S.-based version of the Catholic Committee on Refugees. This committee was responsible for providing support to Catholic refugees who had fled Germany or who would be obliged to flee Germany in the coming years. These efforts were only marginally effective. During the first decade of its existence (1936–46), the committee provided only 3776 affidavits and supplied relief services to 1226 persons.23 Although only nominally successful, these efforts do reflect an increased focus by the bishops on German Catholic refugees from Europe. Although they were not opposed to the admission of other displaced populations, their focus on Catholics reaffirmed an ongoing interest in providing protection for their own co-religionists. This trend continued during the immediate postwar period when the bishops recognized the need to increase their resettlement capabilities and quickly institutionalize this capacity, if they hoped to play a prominent role in addressing the crisis of refugee resettlement. From President Harry Truman’s executive order in 1945 on displaced persons to the passage of the 1948 Refugee Act, the hierarchy continued to focus on the admission and protection of Catholic refugees. In a memo to Msgr. Howard Carroll, Msgr. John J. O’Grady, executive secretary of the National Council of Catholic Charities (see figure 2), emphasized the importance of refugee-based legislation for the long-term interests of the Church. He noted that in our whole approach to the problem of the resettlement of displaced persons we should keep in mind what it means to the future of the Church. We should remember that with immigration shut off the Catholic population of the United States will inevitably decline.24 Such legislation would facilitate large numbers of Catholic immigrants and thus help ensure the long-term health of the Church in the United States. 22. Letter from H. A. Reinhold to John J. Burke and attached memo, October 23, 1936, NCWC, Box 71, Folder 27, ACHR-CUA. Reinhold was the official representative to the United States from the European-based Catholic Committee for Refugees, which was established to help Catholics who were forced to leave Germany due to religious and political persecution. 23. Haim Genizi, America’s Fair Share: The Admission and Resettlement of Displaced Persons, 1945–1952 (Detroit, 1993), p. 11. 24. Memo: John O’Grady to Howard Carroll, July 9, 1948, NCWC, International Affairs: Displaced Persons, Box 36, Folder 36, ACHR-CUA. TODD J. SCRIBNER 83 FIGURE 2. John J. O’Grady, executive secretary of the National Council of Catholic Charities, 1938. Photograph by Harris and Ewing. Image courtesy of the American Catholic History and Research Center and University Archives, Washington, DC. It would have, he further claimed, the added benefit of undermining the quota system and opening the door to increased immigration in the future, thus reaping additional rewards for the Church. To assist in its resettlement efforts after the passage of legislation, the NCWC established the National Catholic Resettlement Council (NCRC) at the bishops’ annual meeting in November 1947. The council was composed of national Catholic organizations, including Catholic Charities, the National Catholic Rural Life Conference, and a wide range of Catholic-based ethnic organizations.25 Although it was agreed that the NCRC would “work to bring all displaced persons to the United States regardless of creed,” a continued priority for NCWC leadership was to ensure that Catholics would be brought into the United States in proportion to their population in the camps for displaced persons.26 Shortly 25. Unnamed Author, “National Catholic Resettlement Council,” NCWC, International Affairs: DPs, Box 37, Folder 10, 1948, ACHR-CUA. 26. NCRC Meeting Minutes, December 12, 1947, NCWC, International Affairs: Displaced Persons, NCRC Minutes, Box 37, Folder 11, ACHR-CUA. 84 THE BISHOPS’ ENGAGEMENT WITH THE MIGRATION ISSUE FIGURE 3. Edward E. Swanstrom, director of the NCWC’s War Relief Services and later auxiliary bishop of New York. From the Maroon Yearbook, Fordham University (New York, 1924), p. 119. before the passage of the 1948 Displaced Persons Act, a New York Times article estimated that the western zone of Germany, Austria, and Italy were hosting approximately 1.1 million displaced persons, with about 65 percent of this number identified as Catholic. This percentage roughly correlates to those given in NCWC estimates at this time, which placed the number of Catholic displaced persons at 55 to 75 percent of the total.27 With this in mind, Msgr. Edward E. Swanstrom, director of the NCWC’s War Relief Services (see figure 3), noted at a meeting of the NCRC that “if a workable Displaced Persons’ Commission is appointed by the President,” it is important to ensure that “Catholics will be able to 27. Gertrude Samuels, “Hope of Europe’s DP’s Rests with Congress,” New York Times (July 20, 1947), E7; The lower range can be found in a memo from Edward Swanstrom to Howard Carroll, “Information on Legislation to Admit Displaced Persons to the United States,” January 22, 1948, NCWC, International Affairs: Displaced Persons: Legislation, Box 37, Folder 9, ACHR-CUA. The higher estimate can be found in a memo from Howard Carroll to Archbishop Amleto Giovanni Cicognani, “Proposal: Catholic Committee on Resettlement of Displaced Persons,” October 1946, NCWC, Box 36, Folder 35, ACHR-CUA. Carroll was the general secretary of the NCWC and Cicognani the apostolic delegate to the United States. TODD J. SCRIBNER 85 bring to the United States a fair proportion of their co-religionists now in the camps of Europe.”28 Seeking to bring into the United States a proportional number of Catholics who were then living in displaced persons camps, the NCWC also expected that it would be the primary organization to resettle these Catholic refugees. In a publication dated March 1948, the leadership of the NCWC emphasized that the Church had established the National Catholic Resettlement Council so that the displaced persons who may be allowed to enter our beloved country may be resettled in security and friendliness, with the further understanding that Jewish and Protestant welfare agencies had established their own organizations for the same purpose.29 Nevertheless, opportunities for cooperation between different religious groups highlighted cracks in what had been an often insular approach to migration-related activity. Although primarily focused on their Catholic brethren, War Relief Services agreed to make its facilities available to nonCatholics who did not have the aid of the relevant non-Catholic institution, although its leadership anticipated that “most of the non-Catholic cases will be referred to the national agency covering that group…”30 On the grassroots level, religious organizations began to form interreligious committees that would push for emergency legislation and, once passed, organize logistical work related to the resettlement process.31 However, cooperation between the Catholic Church and other church bodies was far from institutionalized. In early 1948 the bishops balked when O’Grady suggested that they work more closely with non-Catholic religious organizations in this process. They refrained from doing so because they felt it “necessary first to interpret the problem to our own people adequately, and later the matter of cooperation could be suggested.”32 28. NCRC Meeting Minutes, July 14, 1948, NCWC, International Affairs: Displaced Persons, NCRC Minutes, Box 37, Folder 11, ACHR-CUA. In the mid-1950s War Relief Services was reestablished as Catholic Relief Services. 29. NCWC, “The Bishops’ Resettlement Program,” March 1, 1948, NCWC, International Affairs: Displaced Persons, Box 37, Folder 10, ACHR-CUA. 30. NCRC Meeting Minutes, July 14, 1948, NCWC, International Affairs: Displaced Persons, NCRC Minutes, Box 37, Folder 11, ACHR-CUA. 31. NCRC Meeting Minutes, February 18, 1948, NCWC, International Affairs: Displaced Persons, NCRC Minutes, Box 37, Folder 11, ACHR-CUA. 32. NCRC Meeting Minutes, January 15, 1948, NCWC, NCRC Minutes, Box 37, File 11, ACHR-CUA. 86 THE BISHOPS’ ENGAGEMENT WITH THE MIGRATION ISSUE Although self-interested and pastoral considerations remained prominent in the Church’s work with migrant communities as late as 1948, it was during this period that the social mission of the Church began to take on greater importance. The shock and horror of World War II and the vastness of the displaced persons crisis affected the Church’s approach to migration; under such circumstances religious identity was less salient a factor and humanitarian concerns more prominent. Pope Pius XII’s identification of refugees with the Holy Family regardless of religious identity and his commitment by the Church to care for “pilgrims, aliens, exiles, and migrants of every kind” in his Apostolic Constitution Exsul Familia points to this broader engagement.33 In addition, other political, religious, and economic factors in American life contributed to the prominence of the social mission approach to migration, which became more important in the following decades. The Church’s Social Mission and Migration The shift of the Church to a more “social-mission” rationale for its work with migrants can be attributed to a number of factors. Four are of particular importance to this discussion: the cold war, the integration of Catholics into the mainstream of American life, developments in Catholic social teaching, and the growth of the federal government in relation to the bureaucracy surrounding the social service work of religious organizations. With the onset of the cold war, the Soviet threat and the U.S. response to it became intertwined with migration policy. These concerns manifested themselves in diverse ways. On the one hand, opponents of emergency legislation applied cold-war rhetoric to undermine the passage of emergency refugee resettlement legislation. Such arguments posited that resettling Eastern European refugees would increase the likelihood of communist infiltration into the United States and thus pose a risk to national security.34 Senator Chapman Revercomb (R–WV), for example, contended that many refugees from Eastern Europe were ignorant of the American system of government and, as they had come from communist countries, shared that mind-set. He stated that “it would be a tragic blunder to bring into our midst those imbued with a communistic line of thought, when one of the most important tasks of this Government today is to combat and eradicate communism from this country.”35 33. Pope Pius XII, Exsul Familia, August 1, 1952, repr. in The Church’s Magna Charta for Migrants, ed. Giulivo Tessarolo (Staten Island, NY, 1962), p. 25. 34. “Senator Urges Caution on Immigration,” Washington Post, December 31, 1946, 9. 35. “Revercomb Urges Quota Retention,” New York Times, December 31, 1946, 4. TODD J. SCRIBNER 87 Such a point of view contrasted sharply with that of Truman. In a 1947 message to Congress, the president emphasized that displaced populations in Western Germany, Austria, and Italy “are not communists and are opposed to communism.” For this reason, he stated, America ought to open her doors to them so that they were not forced to return to their now communist countries of origin.36 Five years later, after Truman vetoed the McCarran-Walter Act, he assailed the quota system and its pernicious effects on escapees from Eastern Europe. With regard to these populations, he stated that “the countries of Eastern Europe have fallen under the communist yoke . . . we want to stretch out a helping hand, to save those who have managed to flee into Western Europe, to succor those who are brave enough to escape from barbarism.”37 Finally, the Refugee Escape Act of 1957 included a provision that defined refugees as persons who fled or are fleeing persecution in communist countries or the Middle East. For nearly a quarter century after its passage, this definition defined refugee resettlement in the framework of the cold war. Just as the debate over displaced persons, and migration more broadly, became linked to communism within secular politics, the bishops also connected their support for a robust refugee resettlement program to anticommunist rhetoric.38 Reflecting on Truman’s plea for emergency refugee legislation in 1952, Msgr. Aloysius Wycislo, who worked for War Relief Services at the time and later became bishop of the Diocese of Green Bay (see figure 4), cited the cold war and the communist threat as a central reason for expanding resettlement opportunities. He noted that [i]n the “cold war” upon which we had embarked, we had on our side those who had lived under communism and now sought haven in the West. … In order that we would not lose this “cold war” and in order to alleviate the problems [caused] by Communist tyranny, President 36. Harry Truman, “Text of Truman Message on Admission of D.P.’s to U.S.,” Washington Post, July 8, 1948, 8. 37. Harry Truman, “Text of Truman’s Message to House on Immigration Bill,” New York Times, June 26, 1952, 14. For a more in-depth examination of the American Catholic Church’s advocacy regarding the McCarran-Walter Act and legislation on displaced persons, see Todd Scribner, “Negotiating Priorities: The National Catholic Welfare Conference and United States Migration Policy in a Post–World War II World, 1948–1952,” American Catholic Studies, 121, no. 4 (2010), 61–86. 38. To see how cold-war rhetoric affected the debate over immigration reform legislation, see Scribner, “Negotiating Priorities,” pp. 77–78. 88 THE BISHOPS’ ENGAGEMENT WITH THE MIGRATION ISSUE FIGURE 4. A German orphan with Aloysius Wycislo, a staff member of the NCWC’s War Relief Services and later bishop of Green Bay, WI, n.d. Photograph courtesy of the Diocese of Green Bay Archives. Truman on March 24, 1952 again appealed to Congress for the admission of 307,500 refugees into the United States over a three-year period.”39 As early as 1946, NCWC officials stated that overseas aid, which included support to displaced persons, could be a vital mechanism through which the United States could fight communism.40 That same year, the NCWC administrative board released a statement railing against the mass deportation of thousands in Russia to inhospitable regions because they would not adhere to Soviet doctrine. To do so would be, according to the bishops, a fundamental violation of human rights.41 During his homily at the solemn High Mass held in downtown Washington, DC, Archbishop Patrick O’Boyle (see figure 5) took issue with the Daughters of the American Revolution’s opposition to the Refugee Act. In response to the orga39. Aloysius Wycislo, “The Refugee and United States Legislation,” Catholic Lawyer, 133, no. 4 (1958), 142–44, here 144. 40. Nichols, Uneasy Alliance, p. 70. 41. Edward Swanstrom, Pilgrims of the Night: A Study of Expelled Persons (New York, 1950), p. 7. TODD J. SCRIBNER 89 FIGURE 5. Patrick O’Boyle, archbishop of Washington, June 1951. Harry S. Truman Library and Museum, Independence, MO, accession no. 63-1183-01. nization’s charges that most DPs are communists or communist sympathizers, he said that “it is regrettable that that leadership of the Daughters have not taken the time and energy to learn that these people are among the strongest opponents of communism in Europe today.”42 During a House Judiciary Subcommittee Meeting hearing on the Stratton Bill, which was a precursor to the final Displaced Persons Act, O’Grady called on Congress “do something about this (DP resettlement legislation) or just forget about the whole thing and close up the detention camps and send those people back to their countries and forget about combating communism” and further argued that something must be done quickly about Europe’s refugee problem, or Congress would need to “turn Europe over to communism.”43 The emphasis on the relationship between Catholic anticommunism and refugee resettlement is important for at least two reasons. First, by emphasizing the innocent refugee as a victim of Soviet aggression, the 42. “O’Boyle Hits DAR Stand Against DPs,” Washington Post, April 26, 1948, 1. 43. Paul Kennedy, “Catholic and Jewish Groups Join Labor Office, CIO to Back DP Bill,” New York Times, July 10, 1947, 1. 90 THE BISHOPS’ ENGAGEMENT WITH THE MIGRATION ISSUE hierarchy began to downplay the Catholic character of refugee populations and promoted support for them because of their status as refugees, regardless of their religious identity. Although religious identity remained an important consideration, Catholic anticommunism became more predominant for the bishops. Second, by highlighting an external enemy in the form of the Soviet Union, the Catholic Church began to reconfigure its status within the American community, as a loyal defender rather than a subversive threat. Ethnic anticommunism, much of which was Catholic in character, reinforced this trend by creating a narrative that helped to reconcile love for homeland and American patriotism. This connection simultaneously explained the experience of immigration itself in a classically American way (a flight from the repression of the Old World to the freedom of the new) and as a way of mobilizing Americanized fellow ethnics … which helped to integrate immigrants into the American society.44 The early cold-war years coincided with significant changes in the demographic makeup of the Catholic community. Underlying the transition from a Catholic-centric immigration policy to the more social mission-centered approach was the integration of Catholics into the American mainstream following World War II. Although integration was not a sufficient cause for this shift, it provided the necessary groundwork for it to occur. Throughout the 1940s and 1950s, Protestant animosity toward Catholics remained pointed, but as Catholics began to enter mainstream society following World War II, overt forms of animosity began to wane.45 In time, Catholics were no longer the “outsiders” within the American community that they once had been. The admission of Catholics into mainstream America and the warming of relations that followed with non-Catholic Christian groups exemplified an important transition that was occurring on the American religious landscape. The clearly defined boundaries that once separated competing denominations were beginning to blur, not only between Catholics and Protestants but also among Protestant denominations. During much of the period before World War II, denominational identity 44. John Radzilowski, “Introduction: Ethnic Anti-Communism in the United States,” in Anti-Communist Minorities in the U.S., ed. Ieva Zake (New York, 2011), pp. 1–24, here p. 3. 45. Robert Wuthnow, The Restructuring of American Religion (Princeton, 1990), p. 74. TODD J. SCRIBNER 91 figured to be a central component to the religious identity in the lives of faithful Christians. As denominational identity began to recede as a defining characteristic in religious life, political identity became increasingly pertinent.46 As a result, “the division between religious liberals and conservatives is one that cuts across denominational lines, rather than pitting one set of denominations against another.”47 With the decline of denominationalism, the mutual enmity between Catholics and those from Protestant churches decreased significantly and, with it, the defensive posture of the Catholic Church. From the perspective of its public character, Protestant proselytizing was no longer the primary concern of the Catholic Church. Instead, cultural and political issues that cut across denominational lines became central. With this shift, debates over immigration and related issues took on a different tone from the previous era, as political, cultural, economic, and humanitarian considerations became increasingly important and denominational differences less so. Developments within Catholic teaching in the second half of the twentieth century reinforced this shift and elicited a new approach to migration-related phenomena. One observer of this transition noted that the Church’s teaching over this period “reflects an evolution in perspective from one that was initially Eurocentric and dominated by clerical concerns to one that is now global and humanitarian in its approach.”48 An important component of this more comprehensive framework was an increasing emphasis on protecting the human rights of migrants. In their resolution “The Pastoral Concern of the Church for People on the Move,” the bishops noted that the Church is required by the Gospel and by its long tradition to promote and defend the human rights and dignity of people on the move, to advocate social remedies to their problems and to foster opportunities for their spiritual and religious growth.49 Although the bishops obviously had not abandoned their pastoral concerns for migrants, this resolution, along with an accompanying statement issued by the Ad Hoc Committee on Migration and Tourism, provide extended 46. See Wuthnow, Restructuring, for a detailed account of the decline of denominationalism in American religious life, particularly pp. 71–99. 47. Ibid., p. 219. 48. Terry Coonan, “There Are No Strangers among Us: Catholic Social Teachings and U.S. Immigration Law,” Catholic Lawyer, 40, no. 2 (2000–01), 105–64, here 158. 49. National Conference of Catholic Bishops, “The Pastoral Concern of the Church for People on the Move” (Washington, DC, 1976). 92 THE BISHOPS’ ENGAGEMENT WITH THE MIGRATION ISSUE focus on issues related to social justice, human rights, and the need to provide protections for migrant populations that were marginalized.50 A quarter-century later, in the pastoral letter Strangers No Longer: Together on a Journey of Hope, the American and Mexican bishops promoted a set of principles, rooted in the language of human rights, that they argued had emerged from the Church’s rich tradition on migration and should help in shaping migration policy. These principles include “[p]ersons have a right to find opportunities in their homeland,” “[p]ersons have a right to migrate to support themselves and their families,” and “[s]overeign nations have a right to control their borders.”51 These principles were founded in earlier teachings, including papal encyclicals and related church documents. Even where migration was not a central theme, teachings expressed in earlier papal pronouncements can be read as providing a rationale that supports the moral principles previously mentioned. In Rerum Novarum, for example, Pope Leo XIII noted that “no one would exchange his country for a foreign land if his own afforded him the means of living a decent and happy life.”52 As the pope noted, if extant conditions enable individuals to build a satisfying life, they most likely will remain in their homeland. Throughout the encyclical, Leo XIII aims to guide rulers regarding the economic and political conditions that can encourage inhabitants to remain in their homeland. The ability for an individual to find a livelihood in his or her place of birth is recognized as something that ought to be pursued, as it provides stability and supports the greater common good. It thus is logical that this principle is important in the context of migration—people should not be forced to migrate because of the lack of opportunity, but should be able to support themselves in their home country. The two other principles previously mentioned also are based in papal teaching. In a June 1, 1941, radio message Pope Pius XII highlighted the 50. National Conference of Catholic Bishops, Ad Hoc Committee on Migration and Tourism, “The Church and the Immigrant Today” (Washington, DC, 1976). 51. The Catholic Bishops of Mexico and the United States, Strangers No Longer: Together on a Journey of Hope (Washington, DC, 2003), nos. 34–36. Two other moral principles are elucidated in this document as well: “Refugees and Asylum seekers should be afforded protection” and “The human dignity and human rights of undocumented migrants should be respected.” For the sake of space, only the first three principles will be discussed here. 52. Pope Leo XIII, Rerum Novarum, May 15, 1891, no. 47, http://www.vatican.va/ holy_father/leo_xiii/encyclicals/documents/hf_l-xiii_enc_15051891_rerum-novarum_ en.html. TODD J. SCRIBNER 93 right of people to migrate.53 Likewise, on Christmas Eve in 1948 Pope Pius XII wrote a letter to NCWC chair John T. McNicholas, archbishop of Cincinnati, in which he praised the American Church for its work on behalf of displaced persons in Europe and called on ecclesiastical leaders to further charitable works in this regard. In his letter the pope emphasized the importance of the right to migrate for those who, “because of revolutions in their own countries or through lack of work and the means of livelihood at home,” had few other options but to migrate. In the same letter Pius XII noted that this “right to migrate” existed alongside the claim that states have the “right” to weigh questions regarding public welfare when establishing immigration policy.54 From the perspective of Catholic social teaching, both of these complementary moral claims must be understood in the context of the wider common good.55 In Pacem in Terris, Pope John XXIII wrote that among man’s personal rights we must include his right to enter a country in which he hopes to be able to provide more fittingly for himself and his dependents. It is therefore the duty of State officials to accept such immigrants and—so far as the good of their own community, rightly understood, permits—to further the aims of those who may wish to become members of a new society.56 The use of language that applied rights to migration contributed to a shift in the paradigm that had traditionally guided the American Catholic hierarchy’s work with migrants. David Hollenbach noted that the “affirmation of human rights means that the inherent dignity of all members of the human family becomes the organizing basis of global social life.”57 The “migrant as a Catholic” paradigm that guided the Church’s work in this field during the first half of the twentieth century was consequently deemphasized in favor of a paradigm of the “migrant as a person” who, because 53. Pope Pius XII, Radio Message on Pentecost, June 1, 1941; Spanish version accessed April 26, 2012, at http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/pius_xii/speeches/1941/documents/ hf_p-xii_spe_19410601_radiomessage-pentecost_sp.html. 54. Letter from Pope Pius XII to Archbishop James T. McNicholas, December 24, 1948, NCWC, International Affairs: Displaced Persons, 1950–1958, Box 37, Folder 6, ACHR-CUA. 55. Donald Kerwin, “Rights, The Common Good and Sovereignty in Service of the Human Person,” in And You Welcomed Me: Migration and Catholic Social Teaching, ed. Donald Kerwin and Jill Marie Gerschutz (Lanham, MD, 2009), pp. 93–121, here p. 108. 56. Pope John XXIII, Pacem in Terris, April 11, 1963,no. 106, http://www.vatican. va/holy_father/john_xxiii/encyclicals/documents/hf_j-xxiii_enc_11041963_pacem_en.html, accessed October 22, 2014. 57. David Hollenbach, “An Advocate for All,” America, December 1, 2008, 14. 94 THE BISHOPS’ ENGAGEMENT WITH THE MIGRATION ISSUE of his or her inherent dignity, is deserving of protection and support regardless of religious identity. The proposition that people have a right to find a living in their homeland or to migrate if they cannot highlights the connection between migration and development. In addition to emphasizing human rights, Catholic social teaching after World War II began to underscore the relationship between the developed and the developing world, as well as the importance of economic and political development in the latter regions. Future archbishop Silvano Maria Tomasi, then a priest of the Congregation of the Missionaries of St. Charles [Scalabrini], made this connection during a speech at the Catholic Bishops’ Committee for the Bicentennial in 1975. Associating papal and ecclesiastical actions with immigration and human rights, Tomasi noted that “Populorum Progressio, Octagesimo Adveniens and some recent speeches of Pope Paul and the last two Synods of Bishops have finally linked the entire issue of migration to justice and international development.”58 In the years preceding the formation of the United Nations Pius XII called for the creation of international structures that would help to alleviate poverty worldwide.59 Following Pius XII’s lead, John XXIII gave extensive attention to the promises and perils accompanying globalization, the growing interdependence of the world community, and underdevelopment.60 He argued that the promise of interdependence relies on the developed world’s fulfillment of its moral obligation to assist the developing world in its struggle against want and hunger. In John’s view, it was the responsibility of more technologically advanced nations to assist their less developed counterparts so the latter could acquire “the scientific, technical, and professional training they need, and to put at their disposal the necessary capital for speeding up their economic development with the help of modern methods.”61 The Second Vatican Council, as well as the teachings of Pope Paul VI, reaffirmed the Church’s emphasis on the developing world and its distinct character, and emphasized that it was obligatory for all developed nations 58. S. M. Tomasi, “The Church and the Problem of Immigration,” speech at the Catholic Bishops’ Committee for the Bicentennial, Origins, 4, no. 37 (1975), http://origins plus.catholicnews.com, accessed November 3, 2014. 59. William Au, The Cross, the Flag, and the Bomb: American Catholics Debate War and Peace, 1960–1983 (Westport, CT, 1985), pp. 163–66. 60. Pope John XXIII, Mater et Magistra, May 15, 1961, http://www.vatican.va/holy_ father/john_xxiii/encyclicals/documents/hf_j-xxiii_enc_15051961_mater_en.html, accessed October 22, 2014. 61. John XXIII, Mater et Magistra, no. 163. TODD J. SCRIBNER 95 to respond to those in abject poverty and to do “what is necessary to bring about the development that will free the poor from their plight.”62 The Catholic bishops of the United States also have emphasized the importance of addressing the root causes of migration so as to curb illegal and forced migration; these factors include grinding poverty, political oppression, and religious intolerance. Addressing such conditions would help ensure that “migration flows are driven by choice, not necessity.”63 From this perspective, the “antidote to the problem of illegal immigration is sustainable economic development in sending countries.”64 Similarly, it is crucial for the world community to address political and related upheavals that cause increased refugee activity. Efforts to address these types of problems do not reside at the level of policy alone but have been institutionalized in the work of the Church through the establishment of an array of organizations, initiatives, and coalitions. Among them are Jesuit Refugee Services, Catholic Relief Services, the Catholic Legal Immigration Network (CLINIC), and various departments and offices within the USCCB. Each of these institutions addresses various aspects of migration, including international development, legal protection for migrants, and avenues for legislative reform. The establishment of a response to these issues by the institutional Church paralleled the development of government bureaucracy that has in recent years become closely involved with the provision of social services to new arrivals among migrants and refugees, as well as international aid efforts that provide resources on behalf of international development. With the involvement of the federal government in migration-related matters, it is not surprising that financial relationships between governmental and nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) have become increas- 62. David Hollenbach, “Gaudium et spes,” in Modern Catholic Social Teaching, ed. Kenneth R. Himes (Washington, DC, 2005), pp. 266–91, here p. 285. The Catholic notion of development has implications beyond economic growth. Integral development, according to Paul VI, requires addressing political, social, and cultural issues that contribute to the development of the entire person. For the sake of simplicity, the primary focus here is on economic development, although to flesh out the implications of this principle as it applies to the root causes of migration would require further inquiry into all of its aspects. 63. The Catholic Bishops of Mexico and the United States, Strangers, pp. 32–33. 64. Migration and Refugee Services, Office of Migration Policy and Public Affairs, USCCB, “Catholic Church’s Position on Immigration Reform,” January 2011, http:// www.usccb.org/issues-and-action/human-life-and-dignity/immigration/churchteaching onimmigrationreform.cfm. 96 THE BISHOPS’ ENGAGEMENT WITH THE MIGRATION ISSUE ingly prominent. Given the amount of financial assistance provided by the government to organizations involved, the acquisition of governmentfunded grants and formulation of other forms of cooperative agreements between these two spheres have become a necessity for any NGO that plans to remain involved in these efforts. For example, the public sector accounts for nearly two-thirds of the total funding for Catholic Relief Services, a provider of services to displaced persons and similar populations as one of the largest international aid organizations.65 The Department of Migration and Refugee Services/USCCB, which is the largest NGO in the world in refugee resettlement, has in recent years received more than 90 percent of its annual budget from governmental sources.66 In the current climate, failure to establish a formal contractual or grant-based relationship with governments may hamper an organization’s ability to accomplish its work.67 Such a development requires an examination of the expansion in the federal government after World War II and its changing relationship with NGOs working in refugee resettlement. Since World War II, a more interdependent relationship between the government and NGOs has evolved in work related to refugee resettlement. The establishment of the corporate affidavit in 1945 via Truman’s executive order on displaced persons created a formal relationship between the government and NGOs, and allowed the latter to sponsor individuals who were found suitable for resettlement. Governmental involvement only expanded from that point. Passage of the 1948 Displaced Persons Act signified an important turning point because, although interest groups had long had an effect on the enactment of immigration law, the introduction of voluntary organizations (Volags) in the 1948 statute was the first time that Congress had authorized a role 65. Catholic Relief Services, “2010 Annual Report,” http://crs.org/2010-annualreport/, accessed October 22, 2014. 66. Migration and Refugee Services/USCCB, “2010 Annual Report” (Washington, DC, 2010). 67. This is not the case for all Catholic organizations that work closely with migrant populations. The activities of CLINIC, which was housed under the USCCB’s Department of Migration and Refugee Services until 1988, include legal services to migrants, legal immigration training, and integration-related programs. Since its separation from Migration and Refugee Services, CLINIC has received a much smaller percentage of its annual revenue from the federal government. In 2011, for example, only about 10 percent came from federal grants and contracts, with the remainder composed of monies from U.S. bishops, private donations, membership fees, and private foundation grants. Catholic Legal Immigration Network, Inc., “2011 Annual Report,” http://cliniclegal.org/about-us/annual-reports/2011, accessed October 22, 2014. TODD J. SCRIBNER 97 for private groups in the administration and implementation of immigration policy.68 The Hungarian refugee crisis of the 1950s, followed by increased emigrants from Cuba and Vietnam, necessitated a closer collaboration between the federal government and groups involved in refugee work, along with increasingly larger expenditures by the government for this purpose.69 The Refugee Act of 1980 functioned as a kind of pinnacle in this developing relationship. Although the involvement of private agencies for the resettlement of refugees dated from World War II, “the refugee act of 1980 went further and established the general principle of financially assisting the resettlement of refugees with the help of Volags.”70 The large amount of funding disbursed by the federal government and concerns over church/state issues create a unique environment for organizations that participate in this process. Such a milieu has involved the Catholic Church in working more with non-Catholic refugee populations than ever before. A comparison between the numbers of refugees assisted following the passage of the Displaced Persons Act of 1948 with the number of refugees resettled from 1986 to the present highlights this shift. Set to expire in 1950, the Displaced Persons Act was amended by Congress, extending the opportunity to resettle refugees to June 30, 1952. From this legislation’s passage in 1948 to its expiration in 1952, a total of 404,844 displaced persons and refugees entered the United States—a significant number given the restrictive mind-set regarding immigration law during this period. Estimates place the number of refugees resettled by the Catholic Church at approximately 47 percent of the total, or about 190,275.71 Although the religious breakdown of this population is unavailable, it is likely that the religious identity of the persons resettled would overwhelmingly coincide with the religious identity of the organization involved in the resettling. It is important to recall that during this period, the prevailing “tendency was 68. Roger Daniels, Guarding the Golden Door: American Immigration Policy and Immigrants Since 1882 (New York, 2004), p. 108. Voluntary organizations, or VOLAGs, are NGOs that have cooperative agreements with the federal government to assist in the resettlement of refugee populations in the United States. 69. Norman Zucker, “Refugee Resettlement in the United States: The Role of Voluntary Agencies,” Michigan YBI Legal Studies, 156 (1982), 155–77. 70. Arnold H. Liebowitz, “The Refugee Act of 1980: Problems and Congressional Concerns,” in “The Global Refugee Problem: U.S. and World Response,” spec. issue, Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Sciences, 467 (1983), 163–171, here 170. 71. Wycislo, “The Refugee,” pp. 142–44. 98 THE BISHOPS’ ENGAGEMENT WITH THE MIGRATION ISSUE for Catholic agencies to serve Catholic refugees, for Lutherans to shoulder the responsibility for Lutherans, for Jews to help Jews.”72 Given such a situation, an analysis of the number and types of refugees resettled by the Catholic Church in the past quarter century yields interesting results. Since 1986, the Church has helped to resettle nearly 355,000 refugees. Of this total, only 50,368 are reported to be affiliated with the Catholic Church—a figure that reflects less than 15 percent of the total, with the rest identified as either non-Catholic Christian or nonChristian.73 The Catholic Church’s involvement in resettling those from outside the Church seems to reflect adherence to its principles as an institution and relationships built with many entities across the resettlement world. The prevalence of refugees from other faiths relates to the areas in the world producing refugee populations. During the World War II era most refugees originated from European countries and were connected to a Jewish or Christian heritage. By 2010, most refugees arriving in the United States came from less developed nations, with Iraq, Burma, Bhutan, Cuba, and Somalia as the home countries of the five largest populations. These countries, with the exception of Cuba, tend to have a small Catholic constituency.74 Yet it is not expected that the Catholic Church would rebuff such populations on the basis of religious identity, nor is it likely that religious organizations affiliated with specific religious denominations would rise up and resettle their fellow co-religionists accordingly. Conclusion As the composition of migrant populations to the United States moved from primarily European emigrants in the mid-nineteenth century to more diversified populations in the present day, so, too, has the bishops’ approach to migration shifted over time. The American Church’s work with migrants, rooted in its human rights and social mission, became more pronounced during the second half of the twentieth century. The types of migrant populations served by the Church in the twenty-first century have diversified and expanded from those it assisted a century ago—refugees, foreign-born victims of human trafficking, and similar individuals have become primary populations of concern for the bishops. 72. Merle Curti, American Philanthropy Abroad: A History (New Brunswick, NJ, 1963), p. 554. 73. Information received via correspondence with Migration and Refugee Services’ staff, January 4, 2012. 74. Migration and Refugee Services, 2010 Annual Report, p. 3. TODD J. SCRIBNER 99 In the aftermath of 9/11, the admission of refugees to the United States was reduced severely, largely due to the fears that such populations represented a terrorist threat. Just two months following the attacks, the bishops released a statement that referred to the suspension of refugee admissions as a “particularly inappropriate” response and emphasized the importance of respecting the basic rights of refugees.75 The fight against human trafficking has become a priority for the bishops in recent years, with a particular emphasis on individuals brought into the United States for the purpose of forced labor and sexual slavery. One statement of the bishops declared that human trafficking is an “affliction” and a “horrific crime against the basic dignity and rights of the human person,” and called on both clergy and laity to unite in the struggle against it.76 Finally, advocacy for comprehensive immigration reform has been ongoing for more than a decade. Highlights of these efforts include the publication of the pastoral letter Strangers No Longer: Together on the Journey of Hope, the establishment of the Justice for Immigrants campaign, and an array of diocesan and USCCB statements and congressional testimony in support of such legislation.77 Although pastoral concerns remain an important aspect with respect to the Church’s work with migrants, particularly given the significant influx of Catholic immigrants from Latin America, outreach efforts by the bishops to these communities continues to be shaped primarily through the mandates of the Church’s social ethic. Such an ethic obligates Catholics to engage in efforts that will protect the human rights of migrants and respect their human dignity, regardless of religious identity. Whether a particular rationale will become dominant in future years, or whether a careful balance will emerge between the social mission and institutional rationales, remains to be seen. 75. USCCB, “Living with Faith and Hope after September 11,” November 14, 2001, accessed April 23, 2013, http://www.usccb.org/issues-and-action/human-life-and-dignity/ september-11/a-pastoral-message-living-with-faith-and-hope-after-september-11.cfm. 76. USCCB Committee on Migration, On Human Trafficking (Washington, DC, 2007). 77. For more information on the USCCB’s Justice for Immigrants campaign and for a list of statements on this issue, visit the USCCB Web site on the campaign, http://www. justiceforimmigrants.org. Photography, Teenie Harris, and the Migration of Catholic Images COLLEEN MCDANNELL* The digital revolution has provided easy access to photographic archives, enabling students and scholars to utilize new forms of visual evidence. Analyzing the 80,000 pictures contained in the online archive of Pittsburgh photojournalist Teenie Harris (1908–98) reveals that African Americans utilized Catholic devotional arts in both their homes and churches. Most likely these individuals were not Catholic but found that Catholic imagery spoke to their spiritual needs for an embodied Christianity that was powerful enough to heal, bring luck, and ward off evil. Photographic archives constitute valuable historical sources that can provide important insights into how religion is lived. Keywords: Photography, Teenie Harris, black church, material culture W e have walked into their living room with the photographer, and the women seem happy to see us (see figure 1). Two smile while looking directly at the camera. The third looks at the others with an amused grin on her face. Perhaps she is about to laugh at the ease in which they greet the photographer. The women are comfortably assembled in the home; they are posing but without the self-consciousness that many feel in front of a camera. At four o’clock in the afternoon, they are not at work. The well-cut dresses, the pearl necklace, and the furniture covered in protective plastic lead the viewer to speculate that this is a well-off household that takes pride in domestic comforts. Dominating the photograph, almost as if it is a fourth family member, is a 1951 General Electric Black-Daylight television set. “G. E. makes you feel it’s real,” a magazine advertisement boasted.1 Those same ads also mention a built-in antenna, but reception must have been spotty in Pittsburgh because “rabbit ears” sit atop the *Dr. McDannell is the Sterling M. McMurin Professor of Religious Studies and professor of history at the University of Utah, email: colleen.mcd@utah.edu. 1. This information was determined by comparing the television in the photograph with General Electric advertisements for television sets. See http://www.tvhistory.tv/1951_ GE_AD.jpg and http://www.vintageadbrowser.com/electronics-ads-1950s/57. 80 COLLEEN MCDANNELL 81 FIGURE 1. Three women, two seated, in living room with floral furniture, carpets, wallpaper and curtains, with crucifix above G.E. television. Teenie Harris Archive, accession no. 2001.35.7234. Reproduced by permission of the Carnegie Museum of Art. set. Precisely in the middle of the extended rabbit ear antenna is a crucifix. The photographer has used the metal of the antenna to frame the suffering body, drawing our attention to the religious object. Given the flowered drapery on each side and the central positioning of the television set, it looks almost like a domestic altar. The women may have been relaxed because they were familiar with the photographer, Teenie Harris. By the early 1950s, Harris was a wellknown figure in the African American community of Pittsburgh. Since 1941, he had been working as a staff photographer for the Pittsburgh Courier, one of the nation’s premier newspapers and the most wellrespected source of minority journalism. During the 1940s it became the country’s largest-circulation black weekly. With a staff of 350, the Courier produced fourteen state and city editions that were read throughout the United States.2 An indefatigable defender of the rights of African Ameri2. Cheryl Finley, Laurence Glasco, and Joe W. Trotter, Teenie Harris, Photographer: Image, Memory, History (Pittsburgh, 2011), p. 11. 82 PHOTOGRAPHY, TEENIE HARRIS, MIGRATION OF CATHOLIC IMAGES cans, the Courier had launched a “Double V” campaign during World War II. Through articles and editorials it called for a victory against racism at home along with victory over fascism abroad. The Courier was beloved by the black community because it portrayed African Americans as vibrant, diverse, and in continual struggle for full citizenship. Critical to the success of the Pittsburgh Courier were the perceptive pictures taken by its only full-time photographer. Born in 1908 as Charles H. Harris, he was soon called “Teenie” by friends and family. The images of the observant and talented Harris brought a vibrant immediacy to the textual news of the Courier. Over the years, Harris had found a way to set those he photographed at ease and to make sure every shot counted. A good-looking man with an outgoing personality, he joked and chatted until he established a friendly atmosphere. His goal was to make people less aware that his clunky Speed Graphic camera was pointing right at them. First taking in the personality of the person or group he was to photograph, Harris would quickly change the film sheet, focus the camera, cock the shutter, and then press it. The flashbulb would fire; he would pop it out, toss it in his pocket, and be off to the next photo shoot.3 Since Harris had to pay for his cameras, film, and bulbs, nothing could be wasted. Harris came to be known as “One Shot,” and those he photographed felt that he captured “their inner as well as exterior beauty.”4 Harris photographed throughout the tumultuous fifties and sixties, slowing down only in the late seventies. The Courier printed his last photograph in 1983 when he was seventy-four. Eventually nearly 80,000 of Harris’s images would be housed in the photographic archive of the Carnegie Museum of Art. The collection survives as the most extensive, intimate, and detailed portrait of black life in urban America.5 It is in that archive that a picture of three smiling women, a G. E. television set, and a crucifix can be found. Since the digital revolution, photographic archives like the one at the Carnegie Museum of Art have become accessible to anyone with a computer and access to the Internet. Throughout the country, state historical societies, universities, and government agencies are scanning their photographs and placing them online. The Prints and Photographs Division of the Library of 3. Ibid, p. 13. 4. Ibid., p. 12. 5. As cited on the opening Web page of the Teenie Harris Archive of the Carnegie Museum of Art (hereafter referred to as THA), http://teenie.cmoa.org. The archive may be searched by keyword. COLLEEN MCDANNELL 83 Congress, for instance, has almost 1.2 million digitized images.6 Its collection ranges from the Civil War photographs of Mathew B. Brady to Ansel Adams’s pictures of Japanese internment camps. An excellent source of visual evidence for modern America is the FSA/OWI archive of photographs from the Farm Security Administration (1937–42) and the Office of War Information (1942–1944). A selection of its file of 175,000 black-andwhite images was used as the basis for my book, Picturing Faith: Photography and the Great Depression.7 In most cases, photographic archives are word searchable, and digitized and hard copies can be reproduced. When I began the research for Picturing Faith (before the Internet when scholars had to travel to archives), several individuals were pessimistic about my study. My research would not generate insightful results, they cautioned, because the photographers and the director of the file were not religious. That observation made partial sense because no one had actually seen all of the photographs in the file, and certainly no one had been searching for evidence of religious America. Harris also was not perceived as being “religious,” and so scholars might not look to him for “religious” photographs. According to his son, Charles A. Harris, as an adult Harris was a busy man who rarely attended Sunday services because he was always rushing from one photo shoot to another.8 Would a newspaper expect such a man to take photographs of religious behaviors? Those who are skeptical about the ability of photographic archives to provide insight into religion miss the all-pervasive presence of faith communities in the United States. As with the FSA/OWI photographers, Harris was raised in a religious family. He accompanied his grandmother to Bethany Baptist Church, and she instilled in her grandson a deep sense of morality and piety. Friends remember Harris as a “man of high ethics.”9 Even though the FSA/OWI photographers were often critical of institutional religion, and Harris had no time to attend church, both understood the importance of faith to their communities. All of these photographers were charged with capturing the everyday lives of Americans and in doing so also preserved elements of their religious lives for future historians. 6. As cited in “About the Prints and Photographs Online Catalog,” http:// www.loc.gov/pictures/about/ 7. Farm Security Administration/Office of War Information Black-and-White Negatives, keyword searchable at http://www.loc.gov/pictures/collection/fsa/; Colleen McDannell, Picturing Faith: Photography and the Great Depression (New Haven, 2004). 8. Author telephone interview with Charles A. Harris, March 2013. 9. Finley et al., Teenie Harris, p. 1. 84 PHOTOGRAPHY, TEENIE HARRIS, MIGRATION OF CATHOLIC IMAGES Harris sought to document black Pittsburgh for the Courier as well as for the private clients who hired him to photograph their weddings and funerals. The FSA/OWI photographers were to illustrate America’s poverty to ensure support for New Deal reforms. Any photographic file that seeks to present a visual portrait of any aspect of American society will most likely contain traces of religious America. As Catholics from the late-nineteenth century have made up roughly 20 to 25 percent of Americans10 and are especially numerous in cities, photographic archives are rich sources for visual evidence of Catholic life. We do not know why Harris photographed these three women, but most likely the reason had nothing to do with their religion. The reasons that we, as contemporary viewers interested in American religion, are attracted to a scene differ from those of Harris. He had to make the photograph to capture the images of the women, not the crucifix. And yet, probably for Harris as for us, the crucifix stands out. By arranging the women (or letting them arrange themselves), he has composed the picture to accentuate the religious object. The crucifix is, as Roland Barthes would explain, the “punctum.” The punctum is the element in a photograph that stands out, which calls: “look at me.” Barthes clarifies: it is this element which rises from the scene, shoots out of it like an arrow, and pierces me. A Latin word exists to designate this wound, this prick, this mark made by a pointed instrument . . . that accident which pricks me (but also bruises me, is poignant to me).11 Photographers often include religious objects in their compositions, because such material culture can be a powerful focal point of a scene. The general purpose of the picture may have nothing to do with religion, but objects like crucifixes are included because of their relevancy for a photo’s artistic structure. 10. Although at the time of the Declaration of Independence Catholics constituted scarcely 1 percent of the colonial population, by 1910 they made up roughly 18 percent, largely due to immigration. In 2014 the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops calculated that the nation’s 77.7 million Catholics were 22 percent of the population, whereas the Pew Research Religion and Public Life Project placed the figure at 23.9 percent. James J. Hennesey, American Catholics: A History of the Roman Catholic Community in the United States (Oxford, 1983), pp. 55, 173. For the figures, see http://www.usccb.org/about/media-relations/statistics/laity-parishes.cfm and http://www.pewforum.org/2008/02/01/u-s-religiouslandscape-survey-religious-affiliation/. 11. Roland Barthes, Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography, trans. Richard Howard (New York, 1981), p. 26. COLLEEN MCDANNELL 85 Consequently, students and scholars should be encouraged to seek religious “punctums” in photographs that otherwise are not “religious.” We should look for evidence of religious practices in common, and yet unexpected, places. Whenever people take pictures of home interiors, there is the chance they will photograph home shrines, prints of sacred characters, statues, crucifixes, as well as pious mottos. One might think that the corpus of a newspaper photographer would have little to do with religion, but it is precisely when there is no overt intention to capture religion that religion is captured. And what is, then, the religion that gets captured in this photograph? On one level we can speculate that this is a Catholic family. Catholics use crucifixes in their worship. Most Catholics, however, do not have black faces. The photograph, then, asks us to consider the racial dimensions of Catholicism. Too often, American Catholic history is the collective story of white ethnic groups. Catholic history is the story of the Irish, Polish, and Italian immigrant. We rarely think about the role played by Catholicism in constructing some communities as “white.” What is the story of Catholics in urban America who were forced into “colored” parishes so other Catholics did not have to kneel with them at the communion rail? When African Americans arrived from the South in the urban north, they did not give up religion. They found a rich array of possibilities, including Catholicism. The Pole or Italian could choose to attend national parishes or not, but African Americans had no choice. Out of those segregated parishes, black Catholics developed sophisticated and meaningful understandings of their faith.12 The photograph raises questions about who is “Catholic” and pushes us to consider alternative stories of American Catholicism. In Pittsburgh, for instance, all black Catholics were required to belong to the parish of St. Benedict the Moor even if they worshiped elsewhere. Founded in 1889 by the Holy Ghost Fathers, the congregation struggled to maintain itself in a neighborhood of white ethnics. Noted African American playwright August Wilson (1945–2005), who was raised Catholic in 12. On African American Catholicism, see Cyprian Davis, The History of Black Catholics in the United States (New York,1990); Stephen J. Ochs, Desegregating the Altar: The Josephites and the Struggle for Black Priests, 1871–1960 (Baton Rouge, 1990); Patrick J. McCloskey, The Street Stops Here: A Year at a Catholic High School in Harlem (Berkeley, 2009). Careful studies of race relations in Catholicism include John T. McGreevy, Parish Boundaries: The Catholic Encounter with Race in the Twentieth-Century Urban North (Chicago, 1996) and Amy L. Koehlinger, The New Nuns: Racial Justice and Religious Reform in the 1960s (Cambridge, MA, 2007). 86 PHOTOGRAPHY, TEENIE HARRIS, MIGRATION OF CATHOLIC IMAGES Pittsburgh, remembered that St. Benedict originally was “a little tiny, tiny church that does not look too much different than a garage—a two-story garage—because they did have steps going down.”13 As the Germans and the Irish left the neighborhood for the white suburbs (and left their churches of Holy Trinity and St. Brigid’s), only the African American Catholics were left. The old St. Benedict’s and St. Brigid’s were torn down in the 1960s, and Holy Trinity became St. Benedict the Moor, a predominately African American parish. By this point, de jure segregation in the Catholic Church was long over, but de facto segregation remained. The crucifix’s position over the family’s television also reminds us that Catholicism is made up of more than churches, priests, and theology. The material dimension of Catholicism also leads us into private, domestic spaces. Photographs of home interiors present a glimpse into the hidden life of religion. A picture can show the arrangement of religious objects, the images that are privileged by their placement, and the relationship between the creativity of the individual and the devotional conventions of institutional Catholicism. Domestic religion is frequently left out of the histories of American Catholicism that focus on institutional and theological change. Photograph use urges us to consider the ordinary, local, and overlooked aspects of Catholic life. What are the visible marks of a Catholic life in the modern world? Photographs draw people into their world, and pictures of domestic interiors can give us unusual glimpses into the intimate lives of Catholics. But is this family Catholic? African American Catholics made up a very small percentage of Pittsburgh’s Catholics, and yet a close look at the Harris file reveals that crucifixes appear in many photographs.14 In one interior shot, a large crucifix is placed on a wall next to a family photograph.15 In another, a family of five is assembled around an upholstered 13. Jackson R. Bryer and Mary C. Hartig, eds., Conversations with August Wilson (Jackson, 2006), p. 46. 14. The 1930 U.S. census places the number of “Negro” workers in Pittsburgh at 26,121, out of a total population of 278,591; see “A Socio-Economic Grouping of Gainful Workers in Cities of 500,000 or More: 1930,” http://www2.census.gov/prod2/decennial/documents/ 02557835.zip. The Official Catholic Directory (New York, 1930) lists the total population of the Diocese of Pittsburgh as 570,757 (p. 547). Diana L. Hayes and Cyprian Davis in Taking Down Our Harps: Black Catholics in the United States (Maryknoll, NY, 1998) estimate that in 1930 out of a total African American population of 11 million there were 200,000 Catholics (just under 2%). This number had increased to 300,000 ten years later out of a total population of 12 million—still scarcely 2.5% (p. 39). 15. THA, accession no. 2001.35.5590. COLLEEN MCDANNELL 87 chair with a crucifix dominating the blank space behind them.16 Wedding parties are photographed next to crucifixes.17 A crucifix is placed above the headboard of a bed and another in a dining room.18 A search of the Harris database for the terms crucifix and casket returns fifteen images. African Americans hired photographers to memorialize their dead and photographed the body as it lay in the casket. Although there are some duplicate photographs in the file, one picture actually depicts two crucifixes: one inside the casket and one on a kneeler.19 Women wear crucifix necklaces,20 and men wear them on their vests.21 Could these all be Catholics? Harris did not caption his photographs, so we cannot look for textual evidence of his identifications. A layout editor for the Pittsburgh Courier captioned images that were made for a particular story, but the Teenie Harris Archive does not have the original photograph/newspaper stories. In any case, those captions would reflect the overarching intention of the article writer, not the photographer’s perspective or the needs of the viewer who comes to the photograph decades later. Harris preserved the faces of the people; it was up to the editor to know the details of what they were doing. Captions that we now read online were made by later archivists at the Carnegie Museum of Art. Working with the African American community of Pittsburgh, archivists connected names with faces and tried to identify what was in the photograph. Most of the captions are careful summaries of the objects in the photograph. Consequently, we can search for terms such as “crucifix” and, depending on the knowledge of the cataloger, photographs can be located containing that object. Since textual information is often lacking (or even at times incorrect), an individual photograph can be analyzed by looking at other photographs in the file. If, for instance, we search for the term church, a list of 4434 entries will be returned.22 Looking at pictures of church interiors give us a sense of the material culture considered by African Americans to be appropriate for worship spaces. This is where the simple equation of Catholic=crucifix begins to break down. There are as many pictures of crucifixes in the churches of black Pittsburgh as there are in their homes, but 16. THA, accession no. 2001.35.19489. 17. THA, accession nos.2001.35.36666; 2001.35.39927. 18. THA, accession nos. 2001.35.37743; 2001.35.43406. 19. THA, accession no. 2001.35.29544. 20. THA, accession nos. 2001.35.34492; 2001.35.25713. 21. THA, accession no. 2001.35.45222. 22. Searched THA on June 11, 2014, http://teenie.cmoa.org/CollectionSearch.aspx. 88 PHOTOGRAPHY, TEENIE HARRIS, MIGRATION OF CATHOLIC IMAGES FIGURE 2. Group portrait of Calvary Baptist Church congregation gathered in front of altar with banner in background reading “New Calvary in 1948.” Teenie Harris Archive, accession no. 2001.35.4165. Reproduced by permission of the Carnegie Museum of Art. we know these are Protestant churches. Since most black Catholics attended St. Benedict the Moor, the congregations in the photographs are most likely Protestant. At times, the photograph itself gives clear evidence to the viewer. In figure 2, the words “New Calvary in 1948” can be seen clearly. Archivists have identified the church as Calvary Baptist church. Students and scholars should be encouraged to look at the spaces behind and around the faces. In figure 2 the congregation has assembled at the front of the church. Behind them, framed by an arch, are two large crucifixes. One crucifix is centered over where the minister would preach his sermon. These crucifixes look the same as those in African American homes. Similar crucifixes are found in storefront churches23 and in more elaborate sanctuaries where a bank of curtains accentuates the broken body of Christ.24 Crucifixes are crocheted into pulpit covers and set next to 23. THA, accession nos.2001.35.14481; 2001.35.16788; 2001.35.21161. 24. THA, accession no. 2001.35.15484. COLLEEN MCDANNELL 89 Warner Sallman’s “Head of Christ”—a standard Protestant depiction of Jesus.25 A crucifix is placed in the Sunday school area, and several appear in church basements.26 Students and scholars should always be encouraged to look at other photographic files to determine if a particular object, gesture, or behavior is widespread. Crucifixes, it turns out, are not unique to black Pittsburgh churches. In 1941 FSA/OWI photographer Jack Delano took pictures inside a Baptist church in Woodville, located in Greene County, Georgia.27 A crucifix with a bronzed corpus is hung directly over the presider’s chair. FSA/OWI photographer Russell Lee photographed black churches in Chicago, also in 1941. In one Church of God in Christ congregation,28 a life-size, painted, crucifixion scene was placed next to the pulpit. The dramatic scene dominated the small Pentecostal church as its visual center. However, if the cross on the minister’s suit is included, there are five crosses in this photograph. During the first half of the twentieth century, crosses and crucifixes seemed to be quite plentiful in churches ministering to African Americans. Typically the crucifix is associated with Catholics, not Protestants. During the Reformation, theologians such as John Calvin rejected both the Catholic and the Lutheran use of images. Calling on the anti-iconic attitude of the Old Testament, Calvin insisted that it was the act of preaching Christ crucified, rather than looking at pictures, that secured salvation. “Of what use, then,” Calvin rhetorically asked in his Institutes, “were the erection in churches of so many crosses of wood and stone, silver and gold, if this doctrine were faithfully and honestly preached?”29 His successor in Geneva, Theodore Beza, was more to the point: “Our hope reposes in the true cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, not in that image. Therefore I must admit that I thoroughly detest the image of the crucifix [and] cannot endure it.”30 By the mid-nineteenth century, Protestants had modified this iconoclasm and added steeples and crosses to their church buildings. American Episcopalians, in particular, came under the sway of the Gothic revival pop25. THA, accession nos. 2001.35.31963; 2001.35.21734. 26. THA, accession nos. 2001.35.4174; 2001.35.51269; 2001.35.53929. 27. Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division (hereafter LOC), reproduction no. LC-USF34-046144-D. 28. LOC, reproduction no. LC-USF34-038813-D. 29. John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, book 1, chapter 11, paragraph 7. 30. Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition, 5 vols. (Chicago, 1984), 4:217. 90 PHOTOGRAPHY, TEENIE HARRIS, MIGRATION OF CATHOLIC IMAGES ular in England. The evangelical tradition within American Protestantism, however, continued the Reformed suspicion of both Catholics and their images. Only a limited number of images entered the confines of their churches. An empty cross was permitted, because it was understood to symbolize the resurrection. Even the Lutherans were exchanging their crucifixes for crosses to better assimilate into America’s Calvinist-flavored style of Protestant worship. Consequently, a plain gold cross graced many of America’s white Protestant churches. Crucifixes did not.31 Harris’s photographs and others of the era reveal that Catholic images like crucifixes were popular in black churches. If we look closely at the interiors of Pittsburgh’s African American homes and then at images of Catholic families in other photographic files, we can see that the crucifixes in black homes do not follow Catholic conventions of domestic religion. Catholic families of the forties and fifties tended to place blessed palms in their crucifixes. None are visible in Harris’s photographs. In public spaces like living rooms, Catholics placed smaller crucifixes over doorways, not large ones on relatively empty walls. Catholics preferred to hang a crucifix in a bedroom, a private part of the home. Catholics also created home altars, placing smaller crucifixes among statues of the saints, holy cards, images of family members, and other nonreligious knick-knacks.32 Harris, then, has visually documented an aspect of African American Protestant life that differentiates it from that of white Protestants or Catholics. In the black Protestant community, crucifixes were an appropriate religious image. Crucifixes were not the only Catholic image found in black churches and homes. Harris took wedding photographs of a couple in their living room (see figure 3). A large Sacred Heart of Jesus in an elaborate gold frame 31. For the impact of romanticism and the Gothic revival on America Protestantism, see Phoebe B. Stanton, The Gothic Revival and American Church Architecture: An Episode in Taste, 1840–1856 (Baltimore, 1997) and Ryan K. Smith, Gothic Arches, Latin Cross: AntiCatholicism and American Church Designs in the Nineteenth Century (Chapel Hill, 2006), especially “The Cross,” pp. 51–82. The history of the elimination of the crucifix from many Lutheran churches has not been explored and may be the result of many factors, including the rise of Protestant postwar ecumenism, the association of crucifixes with a former immigrant past, and the rise of modernist architectural styles. For contemporary developments, see James F. White, Protestant Worship and Church Architecture: Theological and Historical Considerations (Eugene, 2003), pp. 143–78. 32. For examples from the FSA/OWI file of a small crucifix on a family shrine, see McDannell, Picturing Faith, p. 21, illustration 3; see p. 20 for a home shrine. For a domestic altar in the bedroom of a Mexican American family, see McDannell, Picturing Faith, p. 47, illustration 2.12; for a small crucifix in a bedroom, see p. 155, illustration 6.8. COLLEEN MCDANNELL 91 FIGURE 3. Groom wearing dark, double-breasted suit, and bride (possibly Lorraine Brookins) wearing light-colored suit with embroidered collar piece, rose corsage, and textured cap; posed in front of mantle and large round image of Christ on wall, possibly for Greene wedding. Teenie Harris Archive, accession no. 2001.35.25346. Reproduced by permission of the Carnegie Museum of Art. is given place of prominence over the mantelpiece. The home has multiple knickknacks, but no other Catholic statues or prints are visible. A slightly smaller Sacred Heart was hung above a crucifix in the Sunday school area of a storefront church.33 There also was a Sacred Heart in the Church of God in Christ that Russell Lee photographed in Chicago. Most likely, for these African Americans, the Sacred Heart is a representation of the burning love of Jesus for his followers. Families might not have been aware that the image originated in seventeenth-century Catholic France. Unlike Catholics, who used such images to indicate their Catholic identity as well as their love of Christ, black Protestants seem to have felt no such association. African Americans, obviously, did not find it problematic to display Catholic iconography in Protestant churches and homes. Even an image of 33. THA, accession no. 2001.35.4174. 92 PHOTOGRAPHY, TEENIE HARRIS, MIGRATION OF CATHOLIC IMAGES the Immaculate Conception was placed on the wall behind one church pulpit.34 Photographic evidence has provided us knowledge of American religious life that we did not know from written sources. Between the 1920s and the 1960s African Americans apparently did not understand crucifixes, prints of the Sacred Heart, or reproduction of famous paintings of the Virgin Mary as being appropriate only for Roman Catholics. Even the spaces of black churches ignored the Calvinistic suspicion of “idols.” Why did Catholic images appeal to black congregations? Clarence E. Hardy argues that during the 1920s and 1930s urban black churches “celebrated the personal and concrete over the abstract.” They rejected the Victorian respectability that favored “emotional comportment and bodily restraint.”35 Although embodiment is particularly evident in Pentecostal churches, with their reliance on gospel music to heighten the emotional spirit, the move toward the physical influenced how many blacks understood God. Hardy argues that African Americans—ranging from Pentecostals and the Nation of Islam to Father Divine’s peace movement— yearned for “a god people could touch, feel, and see.”36 Poets like Countee Cullen in “The Black Christ” (1929) explained: “Better my God should be / This moving, breathing frame of me / Strong hands and feet, live heart and eyes.”37 In the modern city where consumer culture made the body a focal point of concern, African Americans embraced a transcendent, intense materiality that linked the supernatural with the physical. Given that prior to the 1970s the material culture of white Protestants was text based and Catholic material culture was much more embodied, it makes sense that African Americans might look to Catholic iconography to capture the spirit of a physical divinity.38 Over the centuries Catholics had a developed a visual tradition ranging from the tortured to the sentimental that represented divine flesh and blood. Prior to the Second Vatican Council, this Catholic material culture was sold in local shops, bestowed as prizes in parochial schools, raffled at parish fairs, inherited 34. THA, accession no. 2001.35.4160. 35. Clarence E. Hardy III, “No Mystery God: Black Religions of the Flesh in Pre-War Urban America,” Church History, 77 (2008), 128–50, here 129. 36. Ibid., p. 133. 37. Countee Cullen, “The Black Christ,” in My Soul’s High Song: The Collected Writings of Countee Cullen, ed. Gerald Early (New York, 1991), pp. 207–36. 38. For the development of Protestant material culture, see “Christian Retailing” (pp. 222–69) and for embodied Catholic images, see “Christian Kitsch and the Rhetoric of Bad Taste” (pp. 163–97), both in Colleen McDannell, Material Christianity: Popular Religion in America (New Haven, 1995). COLLEEN MCDANNELL 93 from grandmothers, and given as gifts to boys and girls receiving their First Communion. In cities like Pittsburgh or Chicago with their sizable Catholic populations, crucifixes and prints of the Sacred Heart could have been easily purchased. Black maids might have seen crucifixes in homes, and black children attending parochial schools (although many were not Catholic) would have been given prints of the Sacred Heart at school. The photographs of Harris and others illustrate the religious significance of Catholic material culture not simply for Catholics but for Protestants as well. Catholics and Baptists both share the belief in the redemptive sacrifice of Christ. A crucifix is a visual reminder of sacred suffering—suffering that should be endured so that heaven could be eventually secured. African Americans moved seamlessly between Catholic and Protestant iconography because they were first and foremost Christians who privileged biblical characters over sectarian identities. Harris’s photographs function to remind us that denominational markers are not fixed, essential codes. For many people, the language of iconography is not native. Photographs help us understand how piety works in real life. African Americans, however, were not simply Baptists and Methodists. The urban North also felt the impact of Afro-Caribbean attitudes toward sacred objects. Certain manmade or natural objects were thought to have special powers to heal, bring luck, or ward off evil. Rather than seeing the crucifix as an emblem of suffering—suffering that should be endured so that heaven could be eventually secured—African Americans may have understood a crucifix to be an amulet. As an amulet, it would bring about health, happiness, and fortune in this world. Individuals could engage with statues or roots or candles and still attend their Methodist church on Sunday. Objects like crucifixes could be also purchased in stores that catered to the conjure, hoodoo, and spiritual community39 (see figure 4). These small stores sold statues of the Catholic saints, prints of Jesus popular among Protestants, and candles that brought fortune and blessings. Consequently, although the ministers of black Baptist and Methodist churches might have understood the crucifix as an expression of the redemptive sacrifice of Christ, churchgoers may also have understood it as a good-luck charm. 39. Introductions to these African American folk magic and spiritual traditions are Jeffrey E. Anderson, Conjure in African American Society (Baton Rouge, 2005); Yvonne P. Chireau, Black Magic: Religion and the African American Conjuring Tradition (Berkeley, 2003). 94 PHOTOGRAPHY, TEENIE HARRIS, MIGRATION OF CATHOLIC IMAGES FIGURE 4. Man, possibly minister or bishop, wearing doctoral robe, standing in religious supply store with crucifixes and candles. Teenie Harris Archive, accession no. 2001.35.10619. Reproduced by permission of the Carnegie Museum of Art. Textual sources help answer the questions raised by visual sources. Advertisements in the Pittsburgh Courier provide examples of how people used and thought of crucifixes. Most of the ads were for rings that had crucifixes on them. But there were also ads for wall crucifixes, crucifix lamps, and necklaces. Advertisements predicted that this object would change lives: “You can never be perfectly happy or lucky without this marvelous crucifix ring,” boasted an ad that ran in the 1920s.40 “It compels power and luck,” explained another, “Why bemoan your hard fortune when a small sum will bring you the ring which commands destinies.”41 An ad from 1946 asked, “Would you like to be successful at everything you try to do? Many have worn this Ancient Charm for help to bring them Power to their Wishes. . . .”42 Although the majority of the advertisements were published between 1925 and 1945, an ad from 1990 predicted that a crucifix could help with everything from impotency and frigidity to unhappiness and fiscal 40. Pittsburgh Courier, December 18, 1926, Display Ad 26. 41. Pittsburgh Courier, December 25, 1926, Display Ad 47. 42. Pittsburgh Courier, July 27, 1946, Display Ad 47. COLLEEN MCDANNELL 95 issues.43 Advertisement stressed the mysterious past history of the crucifix rings: “discovered as early as the 15th century when they were used by the highest families and were handed down as valued heirlooms from father to son.”44 Several ads mentioned the rings were passed from father to son, indicating that men were included in the target audience for sales. Individuals who bought crucifix rings might have also bought crucifixes for their homes and still attended a Baptist or Methodist church. However, “Spiritual churches,” which were flourishing in black neighborhoods in the urban North, relied heavily on Catholic material culture. The origin of Spiritual churches is obscure, but historians believe they started in Chicago in the first decades of the twentieth century and prospered in America’s urban centers between 1920 and 1950. By 1938, one out of every twenty churches in black Chicago was Spiritualist.45 Spiritual congregations were de-centralized and eclectic; combining rituals and beliefs from many sources to craft a vibrant religious community. Black Spiritual churches freely used Catholic imagery and combined the worship of the saints with charismatic preaching. Spiritualists said the rosary and healed with holy oil. Some ministers wore Catholic clerical attire, and women dressed at times like nuns. Spiritualists might have borrowed Catholic clothing from British Anglicanism; brought from the Caribbean by influential African Americans like Marcus Garvey and then reworked to fit into a racially self-conscious American context.46 In Harris’s photographs of St. Phillip’s African Orthodox Science Church, men are wearing bishops’ miters, and women are veiled.47 As late as 1961, the Pittsburgh Courier had advertisements urging people to come to St. Philip’s to experience, “AMERICA’S LEADING SPIRITUAL ADVISER, AND HEALER, Known From Coast to Coast, Born in the British West Indies, and Trained in AFRICAN and EGYPTIAN TEMPLES.”48 43. Pittsburgh Courier, September 29, 1990, Classified Ad 4. 44. Pittsburgh Courier, December 18, 1926, Display Ad 26. 45. St. Clair Drake and Horace R. Cayton, Black Metropolis: A Study of Negro Life in a Northern City (1945; rpt. Chicago, 1993), p. 642. The classic study of the Spiritual churches is Hans A. Baer, The Black Spiritual Movement: A Religious Response to Racism (Knoxville, 1984). For a discussion of a Spiritual church congregation represented by FSA/OWI photographer Gordon Parks, see Colleen McDannell, “City Congregations,” in Picturing Faith: Photography and the Great Depression (New Haven, 2004), pp. 255–67. 46. Byron Rushing, “A Note on the Origin of the African Orthodox Church,” Journal of Negro History, 57 (1972), 37–39 and Warren C. Platt, “The African Orthodox Church: An Analysis of Its First Decade,” Church History, 58 (1989), 474–88. 47. THA, accession nos. 2001.35.4226; 2001.35.31098; also probably 2001.35.4238. 48. Pittsburgh Courier, April 22, 1961, Display Ad 46, emphasis in original. 96 PHOTOGRAPHY, TEENIE HARRIS, MIGRATION OF CATHOLIC IMAGES FIGURE 5. Priest wearing light-colored vestments, supposedly standing in St. Benedict the Moor Church, in the Hill District. Teenie Harris Archive, accession no. 2001.35.6085. Reproduced by permission of the Carnegie Museum of Art. Catholic material culture is most evident in Harris’s photographs of storefront Spiritual churches (see figure 5). This photograph has such strong Catholic imagery that the archivist mistakenly captioned it as one of Pittsburgh’s black Catholic churches, St. Benedict the Moor. St. Benedict, however, did not have a black priest until 1978. Other visual clues, like the cluttered altar with the unusual looking “tabernacle,” lead us to question if this is a Roman Catholic space. As figure 4 reveals, however, Catholic ecclesiastical goods and even clothing were easily purchased within the African American community. The Pittsburgh Courier ran several stories about Spiritual churches, and Harris photographed their cramped interiors.49 He was particularly interested in one clergyman who he posed both sitting and standing wearing a robe, cape, biretta, and car- 49. “Store Front Churches in Pittsburg [sic]: God-Fearing People Attend These Little Temples of Worship,” Pittsburgh Courier, March 29, 1941; “African Orthodox Church Making Progress,” Pittsburgh Courier, August 26, 1939; THA, accession no. 2001.35.14444 and accession no.2001.35.14445. COLLEEN MCDANNELL 97 rying a crucifix.50 Crucifixes and prints of the Sacred Heart may have entered black homes because the families had connection to Spiritual churches. Until the 1960s, the skin of the Jesus or Virgin Mary found in devotional art was white. However, during the civil rights movement African Americans directed critical attention toward the fair skin and blue eyes of a Jesus. Why should he look so different from his devoted followers?51 In 1967, in response to calls for racial pride, Protestant minister Albert Cleage commissioned for his Detroit church a painting of a black Madonna that was eighteen feet in height. Cleage made visible what many activists were demanding: that religious symbols speak directly to the black experience and work to erase the false notion that goodness and divinity was white. Significantly, it was a stereotypical Catholic figure, the Virgin Mary, which signaled a shift in religion and race. The general concern about white Jesus is better understood when we acknowledge the prevalence of Catholic imagery in Protestant churches and homes. If Harris’s photographs are indicative of how prevalent the white sacred body was in black churches and homes, it would not be a simple task to dislodge and refigure the image of Jesus and Mary. People form deep and complicated relationships with images. Even a heightened political consciousness about art, race, and religion does not always lead to re-working those relationships. Replacing a white Virgin Mary with a black Madonna certainly would have sparked conversation at church. On the other hand, eliminating a crucifix with its white body and adding an unassuming gold cross may have caused less controversy. As black Protestant ministers became more aware of their white Jesus pictures, they may have simply removed them. Exchanging the figurative for the abstract may have been a nod to the political role of art as well as to the long-standing Calvinist fear of the power of images. After the 1960s, black Christianity may have become less embodied in general and certainly more aware of the racial dimensions of devotional art. The absence of crucifixes and other forms of Catholic material culture in more recent photographs may signal another change within African American Protestantism. A careful examination of the photographs of Harris can lead us into a richer, more complex history of Catholicism in twentieth-century America. 50. THA, accession nos. 2001.35.14439 through 2001.35.14445. 51. See Edward J. Blum and Paul Harvey, “Civil Rights and the Coloring of Christ,” in The Color of Christ: The Son of God and the Saga of Race in America (Chapel Hill, 2012), pp. 205–33. 98 PHOTOGRAPHY, TEENIE HARRIS, MIGRATION OF CATHOLIC IMAGES By looking closely at the photographs themselves, surveying pictures in other archives, and contextualizing images through written texts, new understandings of religion can emerge. Although photographs certainly are mirrors of their creator’s personality, they also can be windows into the hidden realms of life. Too often written sources assume sharp and clear divisions between sacred and profane; Catholic and Protestant; white and black. By providing a “snapshot” of religious behavior at a particular time and in a particular place, photographs can illustrate how material culture is not fixed or predetermined. Although in this particular example we can see how Catholicism does not stay within customary boundaries, other photographic evidence might lead us elsewhere. By starting with the objects that people use, love, and discard, a more complicated perspective on religion emerges. The Early Modern Period in the First 100 Years of The Catholic Historical Review ROBERT BIRELEY, S.J.* This article surveys the CHR’s coverage of early modern Europe, roughly from 1450 to 1700, over the past 100 years. It looks at three main features of the period: the Renaissance understood as a cultural and intellectual movement, the Protestant Reformation, and the Catholic Reform. It concludes that the CHR can be justifiably proud of its treatment of the period. The interpretation of the Renaissance as pagan, as found in Jakob Burckhardt’s classic, gradually yielded to one that recognized its Christian features. Polemics were generally avoided in the treatment of the Reformation. The life and thought of Martin Luther drew more attention than did any other individual. Events in England generally predominated. The CHR devoted more space to the Catholic Reform than to the Renaissance or the Reformation. Here two issues stood out: the name to be given to the Catholicism of the period, and the degree of continuity between medieval Catholicism in England and the Catholicism that emerged after the arrival of the missionaries in 1580. Keywords: Renaissance; Burckhardt, Jakob; Catholic Reform; early modern Catholicism; English Catholicism; Protestant Reformation; Lucas, Henry; Luther, Martin; O’Malley, John W., S.J. S ixty-two reviews of books about Martin Luther were published in The Catholic Historical Review (CHR) in its first 100 years, more than about any other individual of the early modern period. This fact emerges from the present survey of the CHR’s treatment of this period, which ranges roughly from 1450 to 1700. The survey is divided into three sections: the Renaissance, the Reformation, and the Catholic Reform. For the purposes of this article, they are taken to constitute the early modern period; indeed, there is little in the CHR for this period that does not fit *Father Bireley is professor emeritus in the Department of History at Loyola University of Chicago, email: rbirele@luc.edu. 94 ROBERT BIRELEY, S.J. 95 into one of these categories. Under Renaissance is understood the cultural and intellectual movement that goes under this name, not all the facets of the chronological period from roughly 1450 to 1600 that is often named the Renaissance. For the early modern period understood in this sense there appeared 176 articles, about 1.7 articles per volume and roughly 2800 book reviews, so about twenty-nine per volume.1 The decade from 1955 to 1965 marked a notable increase in attention to the early modern period. The number of reviews picked up considerably, jumping to 35.6; the number of articles grew less so, to two per volume. The lower figure for the earlier period is explained by the fact that only in 1921 did the CHR explicitly expand its coverage from the history of American Catholicism to general church history, even though before 1921 it did publish occasionally on topics beyond American Catholicism. Moreover, it was often difficult to secure review copies of European publications, a situation that further deteriorated with World War II and its immediate aftermath. Twenty-two articles were published on the Renaissance, with ten of them devoted to the Italian Renaissance, and 295 book reviews, with 107 of these dealing with the Italian Renaissance in one form or another. Not surprisingly, two principal figures, the Christian humanists Desiderius Erasmus and St. Thomas More, appear frequently but surprisingly less often than Luther. Each drew two articles; there appeared fifty-seven reviews of books about Erasmus and forty-four reviews of books about More. Two principal questions characterized the CHR’s treatment of the Renaissance. Was it essentially a pagan movement, as maintained by Jakob Burckhardt in his classic The Civilization of the Renaissance (Basel, 1860), a view that predominated in the scholarly world in the first half of the twentieth century, or could it be evaluated as Christian? Related to this was the assessment of Erasmus; was he to be considered a sincere Catholic or basically a figure of the pre-Enlightenment? A second question that arose regularly was the relationship between the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Was there a clear break, or did the Renaissance emerge smoothly from the Middle Ages, and did it constitute progress over the Middle Ages? Maurice Wilkinson, writing from St. John’s College, Oxford, published an article, “Erasmus,” in 1923 in which he defended the Catholicism 1. These are rough figures and not perfectly accurate. At times it was difficult to determine to which category a particular book belonged. And the author admits to perhaps dozing off occasionally when counting. 96 THE EARLY MODERN PERIOD IN THE FIRST 100 YEARS OF THE CHR of Erasmus amidst the otherwise pagan learning of the Renaissance. He did not “lay the egg that Luther hatched,” as many of his critics asserted, though some of his statements pointed in this direction.2 In 1921, Wilkinson had published Erasmus of Rotterdam (New York) in which he had taken the same position, and an unsigned reviewer had reviewed the book favorably in the CHR.3 But Wilkinson evidently had encountered criticism, and in a short article in October 1924, “Erasmus, the Sorbonne, and the Index,” he rather lamely defended the Church’s later strictures against Erasmus, whose works may at times have been “frivolous and unsuited to the seriousness of the times” and whose scholarship may have been occasionally sloppy. He wrote: But we need not hesitate to say with Colet that the name of Erasmus is imperishable; but the unprejudiced will not on that account charge the church with obscurantism for the check which was imposed on the promiscuous circulation of his works.4 In the very same issue in a wide-ranging article, “The Church and Humanism,” J. F. Leibell pointed up the Church’s patronage of the humanists, but while praising Erasmus as a scholar he blamed his bitter criticism of the Church as a source of the Reformation.5 A more positive view of Erasmus appeared in 1927 in a review of The Life, Character, and Influence of Desiderius Erasmus (New York) by John Joseph Mangan, where the reviewer considered him a modest exception to the superficiality and paganism of the Italian humanists.6 Wilkinson returned in 1926 with a featured article, “The Renaissance and Modern Europe,” in which he saw the Renaissance as a break from the Middle Ages that led to the Reformation, the rise of the state, and a change in “the whole mental outlook of mankind.” Most significant was the growth of the state, which led to the rejection of the unity of humanity, a concept retained only by the Church. A pagan world was replacing the supernatural world of the Middle Ages.7 Philip J. Furlong, in a short piece in Miscellany in 1930 called “The Renaissance and Individualism,” continued in this vein with a severe criticism of the Renaissance as pagan and 2. CHR, 9 (1923), 190–204. 3. CHR, 8 (1922), 405–06. The CHR did not review Preserved Smith, Erasmus, His Life, Ideals, and Place in History (New York, 1923). 4. CHR, 10 (1924), 353–57. 5. Ibid., pp. 331–52, esp. p. 345. 6. Review by William P. Kitchen, CHR, 13 (1927), 525–28. 7. CHR, 11 (1926), 599–626, esp. 601, 620. ROBERT BIRELEY, S.J. 97 characterized by an individualism inimical to the medieval sense of community.8 Negative views of the “pagan Renaissance,” the forerunner of the Reformation, appeared in 1934 in Joseph Schrembs, “The Catholic Philosophy of History,”9 and in John Tracy Ellis’s review of Frederic Church, The Italian Reformers 1534–1564 (New York, 1932). Italy was seen as “progenitor of the Renaissance and the pagan thought of the fifteenth century.”10 A change started to appear in 1936 in the attitude toward the Renaissance in the review of Henry Lucas’s The Renaissance and the Reformation (New York, 1934), which was to remain a classic text in many editions for thirty years. Lucas, long a professor of history at the University of Washington, was to become a regular contributor to the CHR and a president of the American Catholic Historical Association in 1949. The reviewer, Francis Borgia Stock, lauded Lucas’s work and his characterization of the brilliant culture of the Renaissance more as a fulfillment of the Middle Ages than as a return to classical antiquity.11 Then Lucas, in a masterful presidential address of 1949, “The Renaissance: A Review of Some Views,” showed the gradual trend of scholarship since Burckhardt toward an appreciation of the religious character of the Renaissance as well as its dependence upon the Middle Ages.12 He began his address by exalting the cultural achievement of the Middle Ages and ascribed the disdain for them already to the Renaissance and then to the Enlightenment. Burckhardt’s Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy, he readily acknowledged, was a masterpiece of cultural history, “a pioneer achievement of the first magnitude.”13 Yet the Swiss historian studied the Renaissance as static, and studies of medieval civilization soon made the need for revisions evident. Here Lucas pointed to the work of Henry Thode, who had claimed that the spirit of St. Francis of Assisi transformed painting, architecture, and sculpture along with the poetry of Dante, and to the work of Émile Mâle on Gothic architecture. Ludwig von Pastor, in his History of the Popes (London, 1891), then proposed a novel theory based on a much wider use of the sources than earlier authors. There had been a Christian Renaissance represented by Petrarch and a pagan one represented by Boccaccio. Indeed, Lucas reported, in a letter to Pastor published in the introduction of the second volume of the History of the Popes, Burckhardt recognized that he 8. CHR, 16 (1930), 317–23. 9. CHR, 20 (1934), 1–22, citation 20. 10. CHR, 19 (1933), 210–12. 11. CHR, 21 (1936), 456–58. 12. CHR, 35(1950), 377–407. 13. Ibid. p. 380. 98 THE EARLY MODERN PERIOD IN THE FIRST 100 YEARS OF THE CHR had underestimated the religious character of the Renaissance.14 Scholars began to perceive in the humanism of the Trecento a commingling of the religious with the secular drawn from the ancient world; French and German writers also stressed the impact of their medieval tradition on the development of the Renaissance in their lands. This trend had continued, and as he wrote Lucas found a much greater appreciation of the Renaissance’s religious character as well as its medieval roots. This was the last article to appear in the CHR on the Renaissance as an intellectual and cultural movement until the present day. John O’Malley, in his 1969 article “Recent Studies in Church History,” confirmed the way in which recent scholarship had come to recognize the basically Christian character of much Renaissance thought, including that of Erasmus.15 Many reviews continued to deal with the Renaissance. In his review of Karl Brandi’s biography of Charles V in 1941, E. V. Cardinal welcomed the author’s recognition of Erasmus as clearly a Catholic, and another reviewer in 1944 appreciated Paul Kristeller’s emphasis on the influence of St. Thomas Aquinas in his study of the Florentine Marcilio Ficino.16 Walter W. J. Wilkinson of Georgetown in his review of George Clarke Sellery’s The Renaissance: Its Nature and Origins (Madison, WI, 1950) noted how the author broke with Burckhardt in his de-emphasis of the influence of the revival of classical letters on the Renaissance and on his position that the transition from the Middle Ages to the Renaissance constituted an evolution not a revolution.17 Lucas, whose area of specialization was the Netherlands, returned in 1954 with the review of a Dutch volume by Herman Baeyens, Gegrip en Problem van der Renaissance (1952). The volume treated the arts exclusively. Lucas praised Baeyens’s work. He particularly agreed with the author’s claim of no “cataclysmic break” from the Middle Ages to the Renaissance but also with his contention that the Renaissance did bring something new in painting, sculpture, and architecture to Italy that then spread out across much of Europe.18 At roughly the same time, two reviewers, Wallace Ferguson and Richard Schoeck, the former a well-established Renaissance scholar and the latter an up-and-coming one, criticized 14. Ibid., p. 388. This letter was omitted from subsequent editions of the History of the Popes as well as in the English translation. 15. CHR, 55 (1969), 394–413. 16. CHR, 26 (1941), 504–06; John K. Ryan, CHR, 29 (1944), 554–55. 17. CHR, 37 (1951), 323–24. 18. CHR, 40 (1954), 76–77. ROBERT BIRELEY, S.J. 99 William Leon Wiley’s The Gentleman of Renaissance France (Cambridge, MA, 1954) and Fritz Caspari’s Humanism and the Social Order in England (Chicago, 1954) for their failures to recognize adequately the Christian element in the Renaissance and in Erasmus and More, respectively.19 George E. Tiffany, a teacher at Cardinal Hayes High School in New York, was highly critical of Robert Ricard and Roger Aubenas’s L’Eglise et la Renaissance (Paris, 1951), which he thought did not measure up to the standards of the Fliche-Martin History of the Church. It tried to cover too much ground, and it did so superficially.20 Hans Baron’s provocative The Crisis of the Early Italian Renaissance: Humanism and Republican Liberty in an Age of Classicism and Tyranny (Princeton, 1955) was greeted by an enthusiastic review by W. J. Wilkinson.21 Baron, the reviewer pointed out, had demonstrated the significance of political events on the Renaissance in his analysis of the Florentine response to the threat from Milan at the turn from the fourteenth to the fifteenth century. Baron introduced the term civic humanism, which was to become prominent in Renaissance scholarship. The July 1968 issue listed for the first time a section of the book reviews as devoted to the Renaissance, perhaps the result of increasing participation of Americans in Renaissance scholarship. Three reviewers with expertise in the Renaissance now began to turn up regularly in the CHR: Eric Cochrane, John O’Malley, and especially Paul Grendler. The review section continued to deal with a number of Renaissance topics, especially the Italian Renaissance. The issues of the religious character of the Renaissance and its relationship to the Middle Ages continued to draw attention. O’Malley found in the first English translation of a work by Eugenio Garin, Philosophy and Civic Life in the Renaissance (New York, 1965), an echo of Burckhardt in his emphasis on three features of Renaissance humanism: an attachment to civic virtue and a rejection of the solitary nature of monastic life, the exchange of rhetoric for scholastic dialectic, and preoccupation with the Latin and Greek languages. O’Malley thought that Garin underestimated the merit of the scholastics, but he did not comment on the author’s view of religion in the Renaissance.22 Grendler contributed two especially significant reviews in 1972 and 1973, the first of 19. Ibid., pp. 325–26; CHR, 41 (1955), 206–07. 20. CHR, 42 (1956), 193–95. 21. Ibid., 245–46. 22. CHR, 54 (1968), 360–61. 100 THE EARLY MODERN PERIOD IN THE FIRST 100 YEARS OF THE CHR William Bouwsma’s Venice and the Defense of Republican Liberty (Berkeley, CA, 1968) and the second of Charles Trinkaus’s In Our Image and Likeness: Humanity and Divinity in Italian Humanist Thought (Chicago, 1970). Grendler acknowledged the insights that Bouwsma had delivered into political thought in Venice, but he contended that the author’s portrayal of the papacy amounted to a straw man, and his contrast between the Venetian and papal positions was greatly overdrawn.23 Trinkaus, for his part, in his analysis of the religious thought of the Italian Renaissance humanists from Petrarch to Pompanazzi, had demonstrated conclusively, according to Grendler, that one could no longer sustain the position that medieval man was “religious” and Renaissance man was “secular.” The humanists did advocate a new style of religion that turned away from the scholastic, metaphysical approach to one that privileged the rhetorical, the poetic, and the moralistic, drawing on the Fathers and especially St. Augustine. A Christian humanism was present in Italy; one did not have to wait for its descent from the north.24 This was a change from the Middle Ages, although Grendler did not note the fact. That other towering scholar of Renaissance humanism, Paul Kristeller in Medieval Aspects of Renaissance Learning: Three Essays (Durham, NC, 1974), reviewed by Edward P. Mahoney, emphasized the influence of Thomism on humanist thought,25 and he returned to the same theme in his Renaissance Thought and Its Sources (New York, 1979), stressing the influence of medieval philosophy, religion, and rhetoric on Renaissance humanism.26 M. A. Screech’s Ecstasy and the Praise of Folly (London, 1980) contended that Erasmus’s most wellknown work was permeated by the Bible and the deep Christianity of the author.27 John Olin’s Six Essays on Erasmus and a Translation of Erasmus’s Letter to Carondolet (New York, 1979) and Marjorie O’Rourke Boyle’s Christening Pagan Mysteries: Erasmus in Pursuit of Wisdom (Toronto, 1981) also pointed to the Christianity of Erasmus and his thought.28 All these volumes received favorable reviews. Scholarship as reflected in the books reviewed continued to support the position that the Renaissance had been essentially Christian. For example, O’Malley remarked in his review of Remo L. Guidi’s La morte 23. CHR, 58 (1972), 395–97. 24. CHR, 58 (1973), 622–24. 25. CHR, 63 (1977), 150–51. 26. Reviewed by Charles Trinkaus, CHR, 68 (1982), 324–25. 27. Reviewed by Dominic Baker-Smith, CHR, 68 (1982), 329–31. 28. Reviewed by J. Kelley Sowards, CHR, 68 (1982), 333–34, and Lawrence Manley, ibid., 331–32. ROBERT BIRELEY, S.J. 101 nell’èta umanistica (Vicenza, 1983) that the documentation of the religious character of the Renaissance was irrefutable, “but one fears that the myth of the pagan Renaissance will never be fully laid to rest.”29 As time went on, the focus of the reviews of books on the Renaissance tended to narrow to Renaissance humanism. There was little on the arts—only the abovementioned article by Lucas and reviews of two volumes of Charles Tolnay’s multivolume work on Michelangelo30—and only two books on Machiavelli were reviewed.31 All in all, one sees over the years in the CHR a shift from the pagan Renaissance of Burckhardt to a Renaissance often permeated by Christian values and from the rationalist Erasmus to the Christian Erasmus. The question of the relationship between the Renaissance and the Middle Ages was not quite so clearly resolved. Altogether the CHR published thirty-three articles on the Reformation. Among these, the English Reformation clearly dominated with nineteen articles. The German Reformation followed with seven articles, but none were published before 1975. Three articles each were allotted to other Reformation traditions and to the Reformation in general. Of the 949 book reviews devoted to the Reformation, 432 dealt with the English Reformation, 222 with the German Reformation, 134 with other Reformation traditions, and 126 with the Reformation in general. In 1965, the number of reviews on the German Reformation jumped from eight to thirty-one and the following year to forty-four. This development was probably fueled by the increased interest in the ecumenical movement following the Second Vatican Council; many of the original ecumenical initiatives stemmed from Germany and involved the Lutherans. The English Reformation then regained the top place, and, except for the decade 1985 to 1994, a period of great scholarly output on the German Reformation in the wake of the 500th anniversary of Luther’s birth celebrated in 1983, maintained its lead. The first book review on a Reformation topic appeared in 1921, the year when the CHR formally extended its range beyond the American Catholic Church. The book was The Age of the Reformation (New York, 29. CHR, 72 (1986), 81–82. 30. Review by John K. Cartwright of Charles de Tolnay, Michelangelo: The Medici Chapel (Princeton, 1948), CHR, 36 (1950), 74–76; review by Wallace K. Ferguson of Charles de Tolnay, Michelangelo, vol. 5, The Final Years (Princeton, 1960), CHR, 47 (1961), 58–59. 31. Review by Walter W. J. Wilkinson of Leslie J. Walker, The Discourses of Machiavelli, 2 vols. (New Haven, 1950), CHR, 37 (1952); 472–74; review by Wallace K. Ferguson of Federico Chabod, Machiavelli and the Renaissance (London, 1958), CHR, 45 (1959), 63–64. 102 THE EARLY MODERN PERIOD IN THE FIRST 100 YEARS OF THE CHR 1920) by the well-respected and prolific Princeton professor of history Preserved Smith.32 In an extended review of eight pages, the reviewer, Floyd Keeler, was cautiously positive. Though the book, the reviewer stated, was not completely impartial, “it would be difficult to find a work which on the whole bears evidence of so much sound scholarship and such careful research as this does.” While citing abuses in the Church, Smith found the principal cause of the Reformation to be the desire for national churches. With its limitations, Smith’s volume still constituted “a very great” contribution to the available historical material. Many years later, Peter Guilday wrote that Smith had consulted him on The Age of the Reformation and given him credit in the preface for an unusual “urbanity,” but Guilday did not think that he had exercised much influence on him.33 The German Jesuit Hartmann Grisar stood out in the early-twentieth century as the most prominent Catholic Luther scholar. His relatively moderate three-volume biography of Luther had appeared in German between 1911 and 1912 and in English translation between 1913 and 1917, so before the CHR existed. It would become a classic. A one-volume condensation was published in English under the title Martin Luther: His Life and Work (St. Louis, 1930), reviewed the following year by Peter Leo Johnson.34 The reviewer praised the author’s scholarship, and he thought that the book would find a wider non-Catholic audience than had Heinrich Denifle’s Luther und Luthertum in der ersten Entwicklung (Mainz, 1904). Denifle had been much more blunt and aggressive in his treatment of Luther; Grisar’s criticism was more subtle and indirect yet productive of a more “repulsive and revealing” portrait, the reviewer thought. In a 1932 Miscellany item following Grisar’s death the Marquette Jesuit, Francis Betten, who frequently reviewed books on German topics, praised his attachment to historical objectivity, his fairness, and his nonpolemical style.35 That same year, Carlton J. H. Hayes, renowned professor of history at Columbia University, delivered a wide-ranging and prescient presidential address, “The Significance of the Reformation in the Light of Contemporary Scholarship.”36 It was the first article that the CHR published on the 32. CHR, 7 (1921), 355–64. 33. Washington, DC, American Catholic History Research Center and University Archives, Guilday to Theodore Maynard, September 12, 1934, CHR General Correspondence, Box 31. 34. CHR, 17 (1931), 353–55. 35. CHR, 18 (1932), 229–32. 36. CHR, 17 (1932), 395–420. ROBERT BIRELEY, S.J. 103 Reformation. Hayes, who had converted to Catholicism at age twenty-two while a student at Columbia, had been a founding member of the ACHA. He would remain a prominent figure in the historical profession in the United States into the 1960s, having served as the first Catholic president of the American Historical Association in 1945. He aimed to edge Catholic historians more into the mainstream of historical scholarship in the United States. At the start of his address, Hayes noted that the historiography of the Reformation had for 300 years amounted often to a clash between “bellicose Protestants and impassioned Catholics.”37 Protestant and Catholic histories were one-sided though often productive of rich sources. But beginning in the late-nineteenth century the historical profession had undergone two profound changes, changes that had not yet reached the level of popular writers but would eventually do so. The first was the rise of the new scientific study of history, a study based on the careful evaluation of all the sources. Objectivity and fairness became the goals of the historian. Catholic historians admired this in Preserved Smith, and Protestants admired it in the magisterial multivolume History of the Popes of Ludwig von Pastor. The second development was the turn to agnosticism on the part of many, chiefly Protestant, historians. They had come to doubt the truth or utility of any form of Christianity or supernatural religion. The former division of historians between Catholic and Protestant had yielded to a division between Christian and agnostic. For the liberal Protestant historians, “the older controversies [were] quite outmoded.”38 They no longer had a stake in the outcome. This shift in the mentality of the historical profession had led to a widespread agreement or convergence about many issues related to the Reformation, though there could never be complete agreement between Catholics and Protestants. Protestant and liberal historians generally agreed that the radical sects especially highlighted the passage from a collectivist to an individualist Christianity. They also generally shared the view that, in the short run, the Reformation promoted religious intolerance, but in the long run, fostered religious tolerance as this was deemed essential to the survival of the state, and that the Reformation generated a new moralism or puritanism among Protestants and Catholics alike. In some cases, the Reformation advanced developments that were already under way, such as the 37. Ibid., p. 395. 38. Ibid., p. 398. 104 THE EARLY MODERN PERIOD IN THE FIRST 100 YEARS OF THE CHR rise of capitalism and the close association between religion and the state— that is, the growth of more or less national churches. To be sure, Hayes cautioned, we must be careful of sweeping generalization as he pointed to further convergences. According to most historians, Hayes averred, the most significant development resulting from the Reformation was secularization. This outweighed all other consequences of the Reformation. By secularization, he understood “the transfer to lay states [of] the direction and control of numerous activities which had previously been under the almost exclusive jurisdiction of the church,” a development first felt in the Protestant states. So here he considered secularization to be essentially a transfer of functions from church to state. But this could not be divorced from a secular mentality. Once again, Hayes warned of too-facile conclusions, but he ended with the following sentence: “The essentially secular character of modern history originated in various developments, especially in the religious upheavals of the sixteenth century.”39 Seven years later, in his presidential address “The Rise of Secularism,” Raymond Corrigan returned to the topic citing Hayes. Like those in the tradition of Burckhardt, he found the source of the secularist mentality in the Italian Renaissance, which had carried the esteem for Greek and Roman culture too far. Luther and Calvin, he thought, represented a reaction against this Italian secularism and for a time held it back, but their promotion of functional secularization—that is, the assumption by the state of responsibilities formerly left to the Church—advanced the secular mentality as well. In this sense, secularization dated from the Reformation.40 Meanwhile, in his 1934 article “The Catholic Philosophy of History,” Joseph Schrembs, now bishop of Cleveland, had assailed Luther and Calvin, Henry VIII and Elizabeth, who took for Caesar the keys of Peter and gave the individual the right to believe as he wished.41 The ecumenical movement, which had gotten under way in Germany before the Second World War, began to set a new tone in CHR book reviews after the war. In the January 1946 issue there appeared a review of Konrad Algermissen’s Christian Denominations, a translation of the fifth revised edition of the German Konfessionskunde, which had first been published in 1930. This was a massive volume of 1051 pages that included an 39. Ibid., pp. 399, 400. 40. CHR, 25 (1939), 37–52. 41. CHR, 20 (1934), 1–22. ROBERT BIRELEY, S.J. 105 apologetic history of the Catholic Church and then descriptions of the Eastern churches as well as of the many Protestant denominations. It fostered a sympathetic understanding of the denominations and was intended to promote the cause of eventual reunion. The thirty-page section on “Luther’s Life and Ideology” might eventually be considered, the reviewer Francis Glimm wrote approvingly, “the most sympathetic biography ever written by a member of the Catholic Church.”42 In 1950, George J. Undereiner of the Pontifical College Josephinum, to whom the CHR now frequently turned for reviews related to Germany, reviewed the third edition of Josef Lortz’s pivotal Die Reformation in Deutschland (Freiburg im Breisgau, 1949), originally published in 1939.43 The reviewer characterized the book as “a factual presentation and an interpretation of the Reformation in Germany from the Catholic viewpoint.” At the same time, he recognized that it was intended as a “contribution to the Ecumenical Movement.” Undereiner highlighted the complexity of Luther as portrayed by Lortz, who saw him positively as a deeply religious man yet with many faults, including a tendency to subjectivism. “There is nothing particularly new in Dr. Lortz’s presentation,” Undereiner wrote, “but the synthesis is well done.” Eighteen years later, John P. Dolan, who now often regularly reviewed books dealing with Germany, reviewed at greater length the English translation of Lortz’s volume.44 He focused more on the influence on Luther exercised by nominalist theology and by Erasmus, whom Lortz castigated for his criticism of the Church and for de-emphasis of revealed religion. Dolan seemed to remain ambivalent in his assessment of Lortz. Meanwhile, Roland Bainton’s popular Here I Stand: A Life of Martin Luther (New York, 1950) had appeared. The reviewer interpreted it as perhaps an attempt to rescue Luther from the disrepute into which he had fallen with some as a result of his alleged role as a forerunner of Hitler. He acknowledged its readability but found many errors in it as well as a light anti-Catholicism. Grisar remained the most reliable book on Luther.45 As the Vatican Council approached, the CHR positively reviewed more books with ecumenical implications. The convert Louis Bouyer’s The Spirit and Forms of Protestantism (Westminster, MD, 1956), with its stress on the Catholic elements in Luther and Calvin, elicited a lengthy favorable review, but the reviewer John Martin Cleary wondered whether a Protestant reader 42. CHR, 31 (1946), 446–47. 43. CHR, 36 (1950), 215–16. 44. Review of Joseph Lortz, The Reformation in Germany, trans. Donald Walls (1968), CHR, 57 (1971), 518–20. 45. Reviewed by Herbert A. Clancy, CHR, 37 (1951), 303–4. 106 THE EARLY MODERN PERIOD IN THE FIRST 100 YEARS OF THE CHR would recognize the two figures as presented by Bouyer.46 Protestants now began to review regularly in the CHR. James H. Smythe of Princeton Theological Seminary welcomed George H. Tavard’s Holy Writ or Holy Church: The Crisis of the Protestant Reformation (New York, 1959) but disagreed with him on the issue of scripture and tradition.47 John P. Dolan’s History of the Reformation: A Conciliatory Assessment of Opposite Views (New York, 1965) presented a revisionist view much more sympathetic to Protestant concerns common now to many Catholic scholars, as approvingly reported by the Jesuit Edward McShane.48 Protestant Wilhelm Pauck reviewed Reformation, Katholische Reform, und Gegenreformation, volume 4 of the monumental Handbuch der Kirchengeschichte, edited by Hubert Jedin (Freiburg im Breisgau, 1967). He considered it “a masterpiece . . . It is not only a scholarly report based on the works of many researchers but it is also a warm and sympathetic interpretation of the movements of church history as they occurred between 1517 and 1655.” Welcomed was “the remarkably sympathetic and congenial understanding of the thought” of Luther contributed by Erwin Iserloh, who followed the interpretation of Lortz. Yet Pauck was not in agreement.49 On the other hand, while recognizing the balanced judgment and valuable synthesis of Owen Chadwick’s The Reformation (Grand Rapids, MI, 1965), John O’Malley regretted that it showed little new research and interest in the ecumenical movement.50 In 1973, the CHR published “History as an Ecumenical Resource: The Protestant Discovery of Tradition,” the presidential address of Albert Outler of Southern Methodist University and an observer at the Second Vatican Council. In it, Outler, the first nonCatholic president of the American Catholic Historical Association, recognized the “ecumenical commitments” of the association and emphasized the importance that history had for the ecumenical movement.51 In 1978, Gerald Strauss published his controversial Luther’s House of Learning: Indoctrination of the Young in the German Reformation (Baltimore). In it he argued, largely from the many surviving visitation reports, that if the goal of Luther and the Reformers in Germany was to form the population through catechetical preaching and education into genuine Christians, they had failed. John Headley in his review cautiously agreed with the author.52 46. CHR, 43 (1957), 189–92. 47. CHR, 46 (1960), 340–41. 48. CHR, 54 (1968), 141–43. 49. CHR, 56 (1970), 373–76. 50. CHR, 54 (1968), 140–41. 51. CHR, 59 (1973), 1–15. 52. CHR, 67 (1981), 112–15. ROBERT BIRELEY, S.J. 107 The year 1983 marked the 500th anniversary of the birth of Luther, and the occasion elicited many articles and reviews of books dealing with Luther in the CHR. The CHR opened the year with two articles on Luther. Jared Wicks, in an article sympathetic to Luther, “Roman Resistance to Luther: The First Year (1518),” contended that his early works amounted to a carefully argued appeal for a less significant role for indulgences in the Christian life, though they did raise eyebrows about his view of papal authority. Luther still considered himself a faithful Catholic in August of that year.53 In a companion article, “Luther and the Council of Trent,” Erwin Iserloh contended that after the Leipzig Debate of 1519, when he questioned the inerrancy of councils, Luther appealed to a council only for propagandistic purposes. Later he was less forthright in his opposition to a council because he did not want to take the blame for a schism. At the end of his article, after a long discussion of the issue of justification, Iserloh did hold out the possibility of a consensus on this crucial issue. That same year, three reviews dealt with books on Luther. Wicks reviewed John Todd, Luther: A Life (New York, 1982);54 Marilyn J. Harran reviewed H. G. Haile, Luther: An Experiment in Biography (Garden City, NY, 1980);55 and John Headley reviewed Scott Hendrix, Luther and the Papacy: Stages in a Reformation Conflict (Philadelphia, 1981).56 Two years later, Wicks published “Luther, after 500 Years,” an article critically reviewing five recent books on Luther in English with references to other works. He concluded that much progress had been made in understanding Luther’s life and teaching, but “the task of clarifying Luther’s ecumenical relevance today still calls for ongoing, concentrated effort.”57 Indeed, books on Luther continued to appear in the subsequent years, and many of them found reviews in the CHR. As we have seen, for the early modern period, more books about Luther were reviewed in the CHR by Catholic and nonCatholic reviewers than about any other individual. Starting in the late 1960s, partly under influence from the Marxists in East Germany, studies in the German Reformation took a turn toward social history, especially toward the Peasant Revolt of 1525 and the understanding of the Reformation primarily as an urban event. No articles were published in the CHR related to this trend, but representative books were reviewed, including Steven Ozment, Reformation in the Cities: The Appeal 53. CHR, 69 (1983), 521–62. 54. Ibid., pp. 602–03. 55. Ibid., pp. 603–04. 56. Ibid., pp. 604–05. 57. CHR, 71 (1985), 75–85, citation 85. 108 THE EARLY MODERN PERIOD IN THE FIRST 100 YEARS OF THE CHR of Protestantism to Sixteenth-Century Germany and Switzerland (New Haven, 1975), reviewed by Clyde L. Manschreck58; and Peter Blickle, Hans-Christoph Rublack, and Winfried Schulze, Religion, Politics, and Social Protest: Three Studies on Early Modern Germany, ed. Kaspar von Greyerz (1984), reviewed by Thomas Brady, who remarked that “the history of Christianity must be written with at least as much attention to the minds, hearts, and lives of the common people as to the institutions and doctrines of the faith.”59 Two explanatory concepts for the Reformation emerged in the 1980s: “confessionalism” (Konfessionsbildung)—that is, the formation of the confessions—and “confessionalization” (Konfessionalisierung),” which emphasized the role of the state in this process. Both concepts were applied first to the German Reformation and then to other reformations and the Catholic Reform, and they represented a comparative approach that emphasized the common elements in the development of the Christian confessions or churches. Around this interpretative scheme developed an enormous literature that continues up to the present day, but there was little attention given it in the CHR except for an article in 1989 by Wolfgang Reinhard, “Reformation, Counter-Reformation, and the Early Modern State.”60 The CHR did not publish a review of Diarmaid MacCulloch, The Reformation: A History (New York, 2004). Recently the CHR has returned to a topic, secularization and the Reformation, that Carlton Hayes had addressed in his presidential address back in 1932. In 2012, it published a forum essay on the controversial book by Brad S. Gregory, The Unintended Reformation: How a Religious Revolution Secularized Society (Cambridge, MA, 2011), in which he traced the secularization of Western culture back to the Reformation. Four participants from different backgrounds discussed the book following Nelson H. Minnich’s introduction: Joshua Benson, Hans J. Hillerbrand, Simon Ditchfield, and Paul F. Grendler. They criticized the volume from various perspectives, and Gregory responded.61 The articles on the English Reformation covered a wider variety of disparate topics than did those on the German Reformation; some appeared in the Miscellany section. It is interesting that in the 1940s the CHR published three articles by the then-young Presbyterian scholar W. 58. CHR, 62 (1977), 296–97. 59. CHR, 72 (1986), 94–95. 60. CHR, 75 (1989), 383–404. 61. “The Unintended Reformation: How a Religious Revolution Secularized Society,” CHR, 98 (2012), 503–16. ROBERT BIRELEY, S.J. 109 Stanford Reid, all related to Scotland: “Scotland and the Church Councils of the Fifteenth Century” (1943);62 “The Papacy and the Scottish War of Independence” (1945);63 and “Clerical Taxation: The Scottish Alternative to Dissolution of the Monasteries, 1530 to 1560” (1948).64 In the first article on the English Reformation, which appeared in 1930, “The Reformation at Cambridge,” Lawrence Patterson argued that the adage “Cambridge produced the Reformers and Oxford burned them” is lopsided; the situation was much more complicated than that, with confessors of the old faith coming from Cambridge as well as Reformers.65 The following year Jesuit Francis Betten set out to refute an article in the Ecclesiastical Review by his fellow Jesuit Peter Dunne, “Understanding the Protestant Historical Attitude,” which was clearly an attempt to encourage Catholics to listen to the Protestant side of the argument. Dunne had contended that Mary Tudor had been more cruel toward Protestants than Elizabeth toward Catholics. In “The Tudor Queens: A Comparison,” Betten vigorously rejected this position with many figures and facts.66 The books about the English Reformation that were reviewed included biographies of the leading protagonists: Henry VIII, Archbishop Thomas Cranmer, and Elizabeth I. Reviewers were critical of the two books by the popular historian Hilaire Belloc. W. T. M. Gambler criticized his Cranmer: Archbishop of Canterbury (Philadelphia, 1931) for its “unconciliatory apologetic” that made it difficult for the book to be taken seriously, and Martin Harney, while appreciating the insights of Elizabeth: Creature of Circumstance (New York, 1942), located many errors and easy generalizations.67 The CHR regularly reviewed the works of Philip Hughes, himself a frequent contributor, especially his three-volume history of the English Reformation: The Reformation in England (London, 1951–54).68 According to Gerard Culkin, the reviewer of the final volume, “Father Hughes has brought to completion a major work of historical scholarship of established authority. In its completeness this wide 62. CHR, 29 (1943), 1–24. 63. CHR, 31 (1945), 282–31. 64. CHR, 34 (1948), 129–53. 65. CHR, 16 (1930), 51–63. 66. CHR, 17 (1931), 187–93. 67. CHR, 18 (1932), 242–43; CHR, 29 (1943), 248–49. 68. Vol. 1, The King’s Proceedings, reviewed by H. Outram Evennett in CHR, 37 (1951), 304–05; vol. 2, Religio Depopulata, reviewed by Carl R. Steinbricker in CHR, 40 (1954), 293– 95; vol. 3, True Religion Now Established, reviewed by Gerard Culkin in CHR, 41 (1955), 158–60. 110 THE EARLY MODERN PERIOD IN THE FIRST 100 YEARS OF THE CHR survey of the Tudor religious revolution is unique. No other contemporary historian, Catholic or non-Catholic, has attempted to retell the full story on this scale in the present century, and it seems likely that the work will remain for many years the standard guide to the more detailed study of this fascinating and complicated period of our history.” All in all, Hughes argued that Henry and Elizabeth crushed arbitrarily a still lively Catholic Church. This thesis clashed with the reigning view. Even the Catholic David Knowles in the third volume of his The Religious Orders in England: The Tudor Age (Cambridge, UK, 1959) pointed to the decline and abated fervor of the English monks.69 A. G. Dickens in his The English Reformation (New York, 1964) maintained the reigning Whiggish interpretation. According to reviewer William Trimble, Dickens argued that Catholicism in England had collapsed by the early-sixteenth century and had become inadequate to meet people’s spiritual needs. A dynamic Protestantism was the answer.70 J. J. Scarisbrick first promoted a new revisionism with the publication of his The Reformation and the English People (Oxford, 1984), reviewed by Norman Jones, which argued that the English Church on the eve of the Reformation was alive and well.71 This point was carried further in The English Reformation Revised, a series of essays edited by Christopher Haigh (New York, 1987),72 and especially five years later by Eamon Duffy’s powerful Stripping of the Altars (New Haven, 1992), which contended that Henry and Elizabeth had destroyed a flourishing Catholicism, and had an impact well beyond academia. The reviewer called the book a “significant contribution to Reformation studies,” and he added that “[n]o serious student of the period can avoid confronting the arguments presented in this work.”73 The debate continued, soon revolving around the interpretation of the reign of Mary Tudor (1553–58). Carlos Eire reviewed enthusiastically Duffy’s Fires of Faith: Catholic England under Mary Tudor (New Haven, 2009), in which the author asserted widespread popular acceptance of the return to Catholicism under the leadership of Cardinal Reginald Pole despite the burning of heretics by Mary. The cardinal foresaw a Catholicism in England that anticipated many of the reforms of Trent. Duffy offered, Eire wrote, “as serious a challenge to the dominant Reformation narrative in this book as in his pre- 69. Reviewed by Marvin O’Connell in CHR, 46 (1960), 338–39. 70. CHR, 52 (1966), 255–56. 71. This book was reviewed a second time after its publication in America by Ellen Macek in a similar fashion; see CHR, 73 (1987), 490–92. 72. Reviewed by Ellen Macek in CHR, 74 (1988), 497–98. 73. Reviewed by Rene Koller in CHR, 82 (1996), 93–95. ROBERT BIRELEY, S.J. 111 vious ones” and stated, “It is a masterful reinterpretation of a key moment in English history and in the history of Catholicism.”74 In its 100 years, the CHR published a total of 120 articles and 1372 book reviews on early modern Catholicism, to use the term currently in vogue. Thus it presented considerably more on this area than on the Renaissance or the Protestant Reformation. Of these articles, thirty-one dealt with the Church in England and twenty-eight with the Church in Italy, which includes here the papacy and the Roman Inquisition. The remainder was divided among the other European countries. Of the reviews, 193 dealt with early modern Catholicism (or Catholic Reform or CounterReformation) in general, 193 with England, and 359 with Italy. The coverage of early modern Catholicism picked up considerably in the decade from 1955 to 1965, and even more so in the following decades, so that it vastly outstripped that of the Protestant Reformation. Apart from the fact that this is The Catholic Historical Review, this development reflected the greatly increased interest in early modern Catholicism starting in the last third of the previous century. This interest emerged in part from the entrance into the field of many non-Protestant scholars who realized that early modern Catholicism had been relatively understudied. The predominance of Italy results not only from the inclusion of the papacy and the Roman Inquisition in this category but also from the productivity of Italian historians as well from the large number of historians, especially American, who now focused on the history of the Church in early modern Italy. One of the issues that quickly surfaced in the discussion of Catholicism in the early modern era was how to name it; as John O’Malley has pointed out, names mean something.75 The term Counter-Reformation appeared in the late-nineteenth century as a designation for the Catholicism of the period. It implied that the reform within the Catholic Church was basically a response to the Protestant Reformation and that it was, above all, political—even military—and repressive, though it did include elements of religious reform. The principal alternative to this was “Catholic Reform.” It indicated that a reform movement had begun in the Catholic Church well before the outbreak of the Protestant Reformation in 1517, with the implication that the Catholic Church would have reformed itself from within and that the Protestants bore the responsibility 74. CHR, 97 (2011), 798–800. 75. John W. O’Malley, Trent and All That: Renaming Catholicism in the Early Modern Era (Cambridge, MA, 2000). 112 THE EARLY MODERN PERIOD IN THE FIRST 100 YEARS OF THE CHR for the division within Christianity. Already in an article on the Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith in 1921, editor Peter Guilday complained of the “inaccurate name of the Counter-Reformation” given to “the remarkable movement of the latter half of the sixteenth and the first quarter of the seventeenth century” that characterized the Catholic Church.76 Most significant in this regard was another article by Henry Lucas, “The Survival of the Catholic Faith in the Sixteenth Century,” that appeared in 1943.77 In it, he elaborated on the position that he had taken in his The Renaissance and Reformation (New York, 1934), and he pointed to themes that would later be picked up by H. O. Evennett. Lucas emphasized the “new and vigorous type of spirituality” that characterized the Catholicism of the period and remarked that we needed more studies in the nature of Henri Bremond’s A Literary History of Religious Thought in France from the Wars of Religion Down to Our Own Times (London, 1928).78 To be sure, Lucas acknowledged abuses in the pre-Reformation Church, but he noted that a desire for renewal had appeared already at the Council of Vienne in 1311–12. He pointed to the importance of the Devotio Moderna and the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, the mysticism of St. Teresa of Avila, and the devout humanism of St. Francis de Sales. The Protestant Reformation did provide a stimulus to reform, he conceded, but he then continued to call attention to the new religious orders—male and female, Jesuits and Ursulines—and the way that they met the needs of contemporaries. The Council of Trent and the popes—especially Paul III—certainly played a key role, he maintained, but they did not bear the weight of the argument, and no mention was made of politics. The CHR did not take note of Jedin’s Katholische Reformation oder Gegenreformation? Ein Versuch zur Klárung der Begriffe nebst einer Jubiláumgsbetrachtung über das Trienter Konzil, which was published at Lucerne in 1946 and did not circulate widely. In it, Jedin proposed a compromise: the Catholic Church of the early modern period exhibited features of both the Catholic Reform and Counter-Reformation, a position he maintained in 1967 in his multivolume History of the Church.79 Robert 76. Peter Guilday, “The Sacred Congregation de Propaganda Fide,” CHR, 6 (1921), 478–94. 77. Henry Lucas, “The Survival of the Catholic Faith in the Sixteenth Century,” CHR, 29 (1943), 25–52. 78. First published in French in 1916 as Histoire littéraire du sentiment religieux depuis la fin des guerres de religion jusq’à nos jours. 79. Hubert Jedin, ed., Handbuch der Kirchengeschichte, vol. 5, Reformation, Katholische Reform, und Gegenreformation (Freiburg, 1967). ROBERT BIRELEY, S.J. 113 Lord, in his 1949 review of Leon Cristiani, L’Église à l’epoque du concile de Trente,80 remarked that it would be hard to find elsewhere a stronger presentation of the reasons why the most fruitful religious movement of that time should be called, not “the Counter-Reformation,” but “the Catholic Reformation” (not only as anterior to, but growing up in the main, quite independently of the Protestant Revolt). The following year, in his review of Pierre Janelle, The Catholic Reformation (Milwaukee, 1949), Lord lamented that so little had been written about the Catholic Reform in contrast to the Protestant Revolt. “The present volume is well nigh the first book on the subject that has appeared in English.” It was not “the definitive history,” but it did emphasize properly how the Catholic Reformation adapted positive features of the Renaissance.81 Anselm Biggs, in a review of a volume of essays by members of the Faculty of Church History at the Gregorian University in Rome, noted that Ricardo Villoslada defended the Italian term Contrariforma as a proper designation for the Catholic Reform movement. Rather than meaning that the Catholic recovery was merely a reaction to Protestantism, the term to Villoslada designated not just an anti-Protestant movement but rather a positive response growing out of medieval roots.82 Eric Cochrane, in “New Light on Post-Tridentine Italy,” did not take a clear position on the term CounterReformation while distinguishing church reform before and after Trent.83 H. O. Evennett’s The Spirit of the Counter Reformation, a series of lectures dating from 1951, was edited by John Bossy (Cambridge, UK, 1968). John W. O’Malley, in his 1969 article “Recent Studies in Church History,” called it crucial for understanding the new attitude toward the Catholic Reform,84 and in his review of Evennett’s volume, John Olin called it “outstanding” and “perhaps the most important contribution yet made by an English-speaking historian in this area of study.”85 To be sure, Evennett retained the term Counter-Reformation, but he barely mentioned Protes- 80. Histoire de l’Église depuis les origines jusqu’à nos jours, publiée sous la direction d’Augustin Fliche et Victor Martin, vol. 17 (Paris, 1948). 81. CHR, 34 (1949), 437–38. 82. Review of Saggii storici intorno al papato dei Professori della Fatoltà di Storia Ecclesiastica [Miscellanea Historiae Pontificiae 30] (1959), CHR, 46 (1960), 43–46. 83. Eric Cochrane, “New Light on Post-Tridentine Italy,” CHR, 56 (1970), 291–319. 84. CHR, 55 (1969), 394–437. 85. CHR, 57 (1972), 641–43. 114 THE EARLY MODERN PERIOD IN THE FIRST 100 YEARS OF THE CHR tantism. He focused especially on a new spirituality embodied above all in the Jesuits and on the restructuring of church government. In many ways Evennett, we might say, developed the thought of Lucas in his aforementioned article of 1943. Evennett saw the Counter-Reformation as an adaptation of the Church to the changing world of the sixteenth century, and in this sense it paralleled the Protestant Reformation. Bossy, in his review of Olin’s The Catholic Reformation: From Savonarola to Ignatius Loyola (New York, 1969), welcomed the new interest in the Catholic Reform.86 Similar to the confessionalization theory mentioned above but from a different perspective, Jean Delumeau and John Bossy in 1971 and 1987, respectively, emphasized the common elements in the emerging Protestant and Catholic churches. In Le catholicisme entre Luther et Voltaire (Paris, 1971; Engl. trans. Philadelphia, 1977), Delumeau argued that during the Middle Ages the rural population had remained largely pagan and that only the preaching of Catholic missionaries had brought them to a Christianity that was characterized very much by fear.87 William H. Williams in his review questioned Delumeau’s characterization of medieval Catholicism, and he found the volume focused too much on France, disorganized, and inadequately attentive to church structures.88 Bossy, in his Christianity in the West 1400–1700 (Oxford, 1985), also compared medieval Christianity with that of the early modern period, both Protestant and Catholic. But he tended to idealize medieval Christianity with its sense of community and to locate a definite decline with the individualism of later Protestantism and Catholicism.89 Marvin O’Connell in his review found Bossy’s book to be an often insightful essay but with too many facile generalizations.90 Some authors, especially in Italy, where a strong anticlerical tradition persisted, still took a dim view of the Counter-Reformation. This was the case with Catholic Romeo de Maio’s Riforme e miti nella Chiesa del Cinquecento (Naples, 1973). John O’Malley in his review pointed to the sharp contrast with Evennett’s conception of the Counter-Reformation. De Maio found the Counter-Reformation to be repressive of freedom of 86. CHR, 56 (1970), 376–77. We might also note here the popular The Catholic Reformation by Henri Daniel-Rops, which appeared in English in 1962 and was favorably reviewed by Edward V. Cardinal in CHR, 49 (1963), 104–5. 87. This volume must be considered in conjunction with the companion volume Naissance et affirmation de la Reforme (Paris, 1965). Neither of the French volumes was reviewed in the CHR. 88. CHR, 58 (1972), 88–89. 89. John Bossy, Christianity in the West, 1400–1700 (Oxford, 1985). 90. CHR, 73 (1987), 95–96. ROBERT BIRELEY, S.J. 115 inquiry and excessive in its devotion to the papacy and in its promotion of forms of piety aimed at countering Lutheran influence. Yet O’Malley considered De Maio’s emphasis on the shortcoming of the Counter-Reformation to be in many ways “refreshing.”91 O’Malley then introduced the new term early modern Catholicism to designate the Catholicism of the early modern period. He had suggested this earlier in the volume that he edited, Catholicism in Early Modern History: A Guide to Research (St. Louis, 1988), which Elizabeth Gleason in her review hoped would further promote the recent upswing of interest in Catholicism in the early modern period. 92 O’Malley, then, in his 1991 article “Was Ignatius Loyola a Church Reformer? How to Look at Early Modern Catholicism,” proposed the new, admittedly prosaic term early modern Catholicism to describe the Catholicism of the period.93 O’Malley conceded that the two terms Catholic Reform and Counter-Reformation correctly named major features of the Catholicism of the period, but he insisted that both terms defined it excessively in terms of its relationship to the Protestant Reformation. They neglected its much broader extent such as the expansive missionary activity of the Catholic Church into the Americas and Asia, the rise of the new religious orders both male and female with their apostolic spirituality, the resurgence of Scholasticism, and the development of casuistry. O’Malley then developed this call for a change in terminology much more fully in his Trent and All That: Renaming Catholicism in the Early Modern Era (Cambridge, MA, 2000). Robert Trisco in his review noted how O’Malley discussed the terms Counter-Reformation and Catholic Reform as well as other terms such as Tridentine Catholicism and the Confessional Age often applied to the period, and he found O’Malley’s argument for early modern Catholicism to be persuasive.94 And indeed, early modern Catholicism seems to have won the day. But one should keep in mind that O’Malley still considered the terms Counter-Reformation and Catholic Reform valid so long as it was understood that they did not encompass the full reality of the Catholicism of the period. Robert Bireley, in “Early Modern Catholicism as a Response to the Changing World of the Sixteenth Century” that drew upon the interpretation of Evennett and even of Lucas, considered early modern Catholicism as one stage in the Church’s continual adaptation to a changing world, a process that first began with the 91. CHR, 62 (1976), 113–15. 92. CHR, 76 (1990), 127–28. 93. CHR, 77 (1991), 1–20. 94. CHR, 90 (2004), 125. 116 THE EARLY MODERN PERIOD IN THE FIRST 100 YEARS OF THE CHR decision of the early Church not to require Gentile converts to live according to the precepts of the Jewish law.95 Bireley also drew upon the comparative approach of Delumeau and Bossy as well as of the theory of confessionalization to suggest that early modern Catholicism and the Protestant Reformations could be considered as competing efforts to adapt the Church to the changing world of the early modern period. When we turn to the English and Scottish Catholicism of the period, we find that more books were reviewed about Thomas More than any other figure after Luther and Erasmus, and these, apart from the many biographies, are divided more or less equally between More the humanist author of Utopia such as Edward Surtz’s The Praise of Pleasure (Cambridge, MA, 1957) and The Praise of Wisdom (Chicago, 1957), reviewed by Thomas W. Cunningham,96 and More the civil servant and martyr such as E. E. Reynolds’s The Trial of St. Thomas More (New York, 1964), also reviewed by Cunningham.97 Frequently also reviewed, especially in the first two-thirds of the period, were the many biographies and studies of the English martyrs. Evelyn Waugh’s Edmund Campion (London, 1935) was reviewed twice, once at its first appearance98 and again at the appearance of the first American edition in 1946.99 Martyr in Scotland: The Life and Times of John Ogilvie by Thomas Collins (London, 1955) was reviewed in 1957.100 Shortly thereafter, Joachim Smet reviewed The Life of Robert Southwell (New York, 1956) by Christopher Devlin, calling it “a substantial contribution to the English Reformation and to English letters” yet sometimes excessive in its praise of the Society of Jesus,101 and Helen C. White published “The Contemplative Element in Robert Southwell” in 1962, in which she showed how Southwell’s spirituality emanated from the Spiritual Exercises of Loyola.102 Articles appeared on the exiles from England such as in 1936 Leo Hicks’s “The Catholic Exiles and the Elizabethan Religious Settlement,”103 and in 1951 Frederic Fabre’s “The English College at Eu, 1582– 1592.”104 Helen C. White in her 1951 review of Elizabethan Recusant 95. CHR, 95 (2009), 219–33. 96. CHR, 45 (1959), 64–66. 97. CHR, 51 (1965), 94–96. 98. Reviewed by Edwin Ryan in CHR, 22 (1936), 68–69. 99. CHR, 32 (1947), 436–38. 100. Reviewed by Maurice R. O’Connell in CHR, 42 (1957), 483–84. 101. CHR, 44 (1958), 185–86. 102. CHR, 48 (1962), 1–11. 103. CHR, 22 (1936), 130–46. 104. CHR, 37 (1951), 257–80. ROBERT BIRELEY, S.J. 117 Prose, 1559–1582, by A. C. Southern with a foreword by H. O. Evennett (London, 1950), saw the book as fostering the important incorporation of Catholic prose into the study of the English literature of the sixteenth century,105 a process that has continued to the present day. In the 1960s and ’70s, Albert Loomie, also a regular book reviewer, contributed three articles that dealt with Catholicism and the relationship of Spain with England: “The Spanish Ambassador and the Poursuivants: A Letter to King Philip III, February 3, 1612” (1963);106 “Religion and Elizabethan Commerce with Spain” (1964);107 and “The Armada and the Catholics of England” (1973).108 In his article “A Jacobian Crypto-Catholic: Lord Wotton” (1967), Loomie used the case of Lord Edward Wotton, who held high posts at court and served as ambassador to France, to illustrate the often complex ways by which Catholics survived in Stuart England.109 In 1976, John Bossy’s The English Catholic Community, 1570–1850 (New York, 1976), was correctly called by reviewer Joseph Chinnici “a major reinterpretation of the history of English Catholicism . . . [of] which any future writing on the topic must consider its central thesis.”110 Anthony R. Muldoon, in his excellent “Recusants, Church-Papists, and ‘Comfortable’ Missionaries” in the CHR, has well described the reaction and discussion that followed Bossy’s book.111 Traditionally, historians had postulated a fundamental continuity between medieval Catholicism in England and the post-Reformation form of Catholicism there. For Bossy, the old pre-Reformation Catholicism had died out by midcentury, a view that corresponded to the position of Dickens and others that the Reformation had taken hold rapidly in England. A new form of Catholic community then began to emerge in England in the 1570s with the arrival of the missionary priests and then the Jesuits. Bossy defined it as a “minority sect” or “small non-conforming community,” which was based primarily on the missionary priests and the gentry to whom they chiefly ministered and who supported them.112 There was little continuity between this new Catholic 105. CHR, 37 (1951), 325–26. 106. CHR, 49 (1963), 203–09. 107. CHR, 50 (1964), 27–51. 108. CHR, 59 (1973), 385–403. 109. CHR, 53 (1967), 328–45. 110. CHR, 64 (1978), 508–10. 111. CHR, 85 (2000), 242–57. 112. John Bossy, The English Catholic Community, 1570–1850 (New York, 1976), cited in Andrew R. Muldoon, “Recusants, Church-Papists, and ‘Comfortable’ Missionaries: Assessing the Post-Reformation English Catholic Community,” CHR, 86 (2000), 243. 118 THE EARLY MODERN PERIOD IN THE FIRST 100 YEARS OF THE CHR community and pre-Reformation or even Marian Catholicism, Bossy maintained. It was characterized by an individualist spirituality—as opposed to the more communitarian spirituality distinctive of the Middle Ages according to Bossy—and by a greater insistence on recusancy or the refusal to participate in the Elizabethan Church. Christopher Haigh challenged Bossy’s findings. He contended that traditional Catholicism persisted in a much more vigorous form than Bossy allowed and had shown renewed life under Mary Tudor, a view that corresponded to the position of Scarisbrick and Duffy about the persistence of Catholicism during the reigns of Henry VIII and Elizabeth. So Haigh argued for considerable continuity between pre-Reformation Catholicism and the Catholic sect that Bossy contended had sprung up as a new creation in the 1570s. According to Muldoon, both Bossy and Haigh based their conclusions on limited local investigations. Haigh and others have located another category of Catholics called the “Churchpapists,” heads of gentry families who periodically attended Anglican services but who remained fundamentally Catholic. They were able frequently to protect Catholics during Elizabeth’s reign and so provided another element of continuity within the Church. But they did not fit into Bossy’s narrower Church because of their periodical conformity.113 Haigh also downplayed the heroic efforts attributed to the seminary priests and Jesuits by Bossy. They did not encounter a country without Catholics but a living community partially recusant that they could serve and sustain, and they missed many opportunities because they lacked an effective strategy. Another point of contention that elicited considerable back and forth in the pages of the CHR has been the initial goal of the Jesuit mission to England in 1580. Michael Carrafiello in his Robert Parsons and English Catholicism, 1580–1610 (Selinsgrove, PA, 1998), a book not reviewed in the CHR, argued that the original intent of the Jesuit mission had been political, to win the support of James VI of Scotland for the overthrow of the Elizabethan regime and return England to Catholicism. He subsequently added this element of militancy to the new style of Catholicism described by Bossy. Jesuit Thomas McCoog vigorously countered this position; the initial purpose of the mission, he contended, had been pastoral, and Parsons had only turned to politics after its pastoral failure. Car- 113. Muldoon, “Recusants, Church-Papists, and ‘Comfortable’ Missionaries,” pp. 246–53. ROBERT BIRELEY, S.J. 119 rafiello and McCoog prolonged their dispute in reviews of each other’s work and in letters to the editor in the CHR.114 More recently, the debate over the nature of English Catholicism in the sixteenth century has also shifted to the evaluation of the reign of Mary Tudor. Contributing to this was Thomas Mayer’s biography of Cardinal Pole, papal legate in England during her reign and her close collaborator: Reginald Pole, Prince and Prophet (New York, 2000), reviewed enthusiastically by William Hudon.115 In a review essay in the CHR in 2007, Colin Armstrong discussed two volumes of essays, Reforming Catholicism in the England of Mary Tudor: The Achievement of Friar Bartolomé Carranza, edited by John Edwards and Ronald Truman (Aldershot, UK, 2005), and The Church of Mary Tudor, edited by Eamon Duffy and David Loades (Aldershot, UK, 2006). The two volumes were, he wrote, “the best accounts we possess of Catholicism in Queen Mary’s reign.” Their account of Mary’s reign is, in general, positive. “Their broad approach takes to a further stage the ‘Revisionist’ school of Reformation history which has endeavored to draw attention to the social and intellectual vigor of English Catholicism in the first half of the sixteenth century.”116 Duffy developed the revisionist position further in his Fires of Faith: Catholic England under Mary Tudor, mentioned previously. Faced with the fact of the execution of 284 Protestants during Bloody Mary’s reign, Duffy did not seek to excuse it but to explain it, and he argued that Mary enjoyed considerable popular support for these measures. Pole was, according to Duffy, ahead of the Council of Trent in the reforms he foresaw for the English Church, especially regarding preaching and the education of priests; indeed, he was “England’s own version of St. Carlo Borromeo.” What might have happened if both Queen Mary and Cardinal Pole had lived (they both died in 1558) remained a question of rich conjecture. At the end of his review, Carlos Eire recommended that the representatives of the two interpretations of the English Reformation, those maintaining the older Whig position and the revisionist, pursue a compromise that would allow for the complexity of the process of the English Reformation.117 The large number of articles and especially of reviews, twenty-eight and 359, respectively, regarding the Counter-Reformation in Italy is a 114. Ibid., pp. 255–56; see also Thomas McCoog, “The English Jesuit Mission and the French Match,” CHR, 87 (2001), 185–213. 115. CHR, 88 (2002), 356–59. 116. Colin Armstrong, “English Catholicism under Mary Tudor,” CHR, 93 (2007), 589–93. 117. CHR, 97 (2011), 798–800. 120 THE EARLY MODERN PERIOD IN THE FIRST 100 YEARS OF THE CHR result of several factors. First, books on the papacy, including the regularly published volumes of papal Nuntiaturberichte, on the Council of Trent, and on the Roman Inquisition—fields of increasing interest in recent decades and especially after the opening of the Roman archives of the Inquisition in 1998—have been included in this category. Second, Italian as well as English-language scholars of this period have been unusually prolific in the past decades. Later volumes of von Pastor’s History of the Popes were reviewed as they appeared in English translation, as were volumes of Jedin’s History of the Council of Trent, as they were published in the original German and in English translation. Eric Cochrane remarked in an article of 1980 that the barrier between lay and Catholic historians in Italy had begun to crack, although many of the former still clung to the classic position that the Counter-Reformation had smothered the Renaissance in Italy only to see Renaissance values reassert themselves in the Enlightenment.118 The cracks seem to have widened since then. John Tedeschi, in his review of Processus in Causa Fidei: L’evoluzione dei manuali inquisitoriale nei secoli XVI–XVIII e il manuale inedito di un inquisitore perugino (Bologna, 2000), noted “the renaissance in inquisitorial study now under way.”119 Two volumes of Tedeschi’s contributed to this renaissance, both reviewed in the CHR, one that he edited with Gustav Hennigsen, The Inquisition in Early Modern Europe: Studies on Sources and Methods (DeKalb, IL, 1986),120 and The Prosecution of Heresy: Collected Studies on the Inquisition in Early Modern Europe (Binghamton, NY, 1991).121 A number of books on the Spanish Inquisition were also reviewed during this period. The sixty-one articles on early modern Catholicism in other European countries—especially France, Spain, the Netherlands, and the Holy Roman Empire—and the roughly 620 reviews resulted from the Catholic nature of the CHR as well as the greatly increased scholarly attention given to early modern Catholicism in recent decades. The CHR can be justifiably proud of its treatment of the early modern period—that is, the Renaissance as a cultural and intellectual movement, the Reformation, and the Catholic Reform. Its coverage of the period picked up in the decade from 1955 to 1965 following the aftermath of World War II and then the coming of the ecumenical movement and the 118. Eric Cochrane, “Caesar Baronius and the Counter-Reformation,” CHR, 66 (1980), 53, 58. 119. CHR, 88 (2002), 597–99. 120. Reviewed by Stephen Haliczer in CHR, 74 (1988), 508–09. 121. Reviewed by Anthony Santuosso in CHR, 78 (1992), 301–02. ROBERT BIRELEY, S.J. 121 Second Vatican Council. Major historiographical issues were discussed in a balanced and scholarly fashion. The interpretation of the Renaissance as pagan, as found in Burckhardt’s classic, gradually yielded to one that recognized its Christian features. Here Henry Lucas in his article of 1949 paved the way, and John O’Malley and Paul Grendler pointed in this direction, as well as O’Malley in his article of 1969 and in a number of reviews. This represented the general trend of scholarship. The same can be said for the interpretation of Erasmus as it evolved in the CHR from a pre-Enlightenment rationalist to a genuinely Christian thinker. The direction is not so clear when it comes to the relationship between the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Generally speaking, the CHR devoted little attention to the arts during the early modern period. Polemics were generally avoided in the treatment of the Reformation. Events in England predominated in the CHR’s treatment of the Reformation and, less so, of the Catholic Reform. The CHR has followed the continuing debate between the advocates of the long-prevalent Whig interpretation of the English Reformation and the revisionists, now led by Eamon Duffy, over the state of the Catholic Church on the eve of the Reformation and the course of the Reformation itself. Thomas More and the English martyrs generally received considerable attention, especially in the earlier years. But the two books of the popular English historian Hilaire Belloc that were reviewed were not well received. The life and thought of Luther drew more attention than any other individual. Hartmann Grisar’s volumes remained for a long time the standard for the treatment of Luther. Starting in the 1960s, Protestants began to appear regularly as authors and reviewers in the CHR. Already in 1950, reviewer George Undereiner had designated Joseph Lortz’s Die Reformation in Deutschland a significant contribution to the ecumenical movement, and an increasingly sympathetic if not uncritical attitude characterized the treatment of Luther, growing more extensive with the coming of the Second Vatican Council and then the 500th anniversary of his birth in 1983. Reviews and articles definitely supported the ecumenical movement from the beginning. Less attention was given to the social history of the Reformation and the theory of confessionalization, topics of considerable importance in the scholarship regarding the Reformation in Germany. The Reformation beyond England and Germany received generally less treatment. Naturally enough, as a Catholic periodical, the CHR devoted more space to early modern Catholicism than to the Renaissance or to the Protestant Reformation. The greatly increased interest in the CounterReformation and Catholic Reform starting in the 1960s certainly helps to 122 THE EARLY MODERN PERIOD IN THE FIRST 100 YEARS OF THE CHR explain this phenomenon. The geographical extent of the coverage also extended much further than did that of the Renaissance or Protestant Reformation. England still held the lead with the number of articles, but lost it by a large margin with the book reviews. Two historiographical issues stand out in this case. The first had to do with the naming of the Catholicism of this period. Was it to be the Counter-Reformation, the Catholic Reform, or some other designation? John O’Malley proposed, also in the pages of the CHR, the term early modern Catholicism, and it seems to be winning the day. Another major historiographical issue was the character of English Catholicism. Was there a clear break with little continuity between medieval Catholicism and the Church in England as it developed after the coming of the missionary priests and the Jesuits in the 1570s and ’80s as proposed by John Bossy? Or was there much greater continuity between the Church of the late Middle Ages, the Church of Mary Tudor’s reign, and the subsequent development of the Church in England? The latter view seems now to prevail in this current contest, which has been reported in the pages of The Catholic Historical Review. Catholic MaterialCulture: An Introductory Bibliography MAUREEN C. MILLER* This bibliography offers a sampling of work on material culture useful to historians of Catholicism. It includes works on theory and methodology; architecture; ancient and medieval Christianity; as well as modern European, American and Canadian, Latin American, and Asian and African Catholicism. Keywords: bibliography, material culture, Catholicism T his is a highly selective bibliography that aims to introduce historians of Catholicism to the field of material culture studies. It is not, therefore, a comprehensive bibliography of either historical works on material culture or material culture studies of Catholicism. It highlights general tools (journals; introductions to the methodology and theory of material culture) and then more specific studies that provide an entree to work done in the customary chronological and geographical fields of Catholic history. A separate section has been created for architecture since these studies often span more than one period. Also included are a few new media resources (websites, podcasts) useful in teaching. Methodology and Theory Appadurai, Arjun, ed. The Social Life of Things: Commodities in Cultural Perspective (Cambridge, UK, 1986). Auslander, Leora. “Beyond Words,” American Historical Review, 110 (2005), 1015–45. Berger, Arthur Asa. Reading Matter: Multidisciplinary Perspectives on Material Culture (New Brunswick, NJ, 1992). Burke, Peter. Eyewitnessing: The Use of Images as Historical Evidence (Ithaca, NY, 2002). Bynum, Caroline Walker. “Avoiding the Tyranny of Morphology; or, Why Compare?”, History of Religions, 53 (2014), 341–68. *Dr. Miller is professor of history at the University of California, Berkeley, email: mcmiller@berkeley.edu. 99 100 CATHOLIC MATERIAL CULTURE: AN INTRODUCTORY BIBLIOGRAPHY ———. “The Sacrality of Things: An Inquiry into Divine Materiality in the Christian Middle Ages,” Irish Theological Quarterly, 78 (2012), 3– 18. Droogan, Julian. Religion, Material Culture and Archaeology (London, 2013). Grassby, Richard. “Material Culture and Cultural History,” Journal of Interdisciplinary History, 35 (2004), 591–603. Harvey, Karen. History and Material Culture: A Student’s Guide to Approaching Alternative Sources (London, 2009). Hicks, Dan, and Mary C. Beaudry, eds. Oxford Handbook of Material Culture Studies (Oxford, 2010). Jones, Ann, and Peter Stallybrass. Renaissance Clothing and the Materials of Memory (Cambridge, UK, 2000). Jordanova, Ludmilla J. The Look of the Past: Visual and Material Evidence in Historical Practice (Cambridge, UK, 2012). Miller, Daniel, ed. Materiality (Durham, NC, 2005). Morgan, David, ed. Religion and Material Culture: The Matter of Belief (New York, 2010). ———. Visual Piety: A History and Theory of Popular Religious Images (Berkeley, 1998). Woodward, Ian. Understanding Material Culture (Los Angeles, 2007). Journals Herom: Journal on Hellenistic and Roman Material Culture (Leuven, 2012–). Journal of Material Culture (London, 1996–). Material Culture (Akron, OH, 1984–). Material History Bulletin. Bulletin d’histoire de la culture matérielle (Ottawa, 1976–90). Material History Review. Revue de la culture matérielle (Ottawa, 1991–). Material Religion: The Journal of Objects, Art, and Belief (Oxford, 2005–). Architecture Doig, Allan. Liturgy and Architecture: From the Early Church to the Middle Ages (Aldershot, UK, 2008). Kieckhefer, Richard. Theology in Stone: Church Architecture from Byzantium to Berkeley (Oxford, 2004). Kilde, Jeanne Halgren. Sacred Power, Sacred Space: An Introduction to Christian Architecture and Worship (Oxford, 2008). Stemp, Richard. The Secret Language of Churches & Cathedrals (New York, 2010). MAUREEN C. MILLER 101 Taylor, Richard. How to Read a Church: A Guide to Images, Symbols and Meanings in Churches and Cathedrals (London, 2003). Wuerl, Donald, and Mike Aquilina. The Church: Unlocking the Secrets to the Places Catholics Call Home (New York, 2013). Ancient Bangert, Susanne. “The Archaeology of Pilgrimage: Abu Mina and Beyond,” Late Antique Archaeology, 6 (2010), 291–327. Bodel, John. “From Columbaria to Catacombs: Communities of the Dead in Pagan and Christian Rome,” in Roman Burial and Commemorative Practices and Earliest Christianity, ed. Laurie Brink and Deborah Greene (Berlin, 2008), pp. 177–242. Bowes, Kim. “‘Christianization’ and the Rural Home,” Journal of Early Christian Studies, 15 (2007), 143–70. ———. “Early Christian Archaeology: A State of the Field,” History Compass, 2 (2008), 575–619. Cosentino, Augusto. “Il battesimo a Roma: edifici e liturgia,” in Ecclesiae urbis. Atti del congresso internazionale di studi sulle chiese di Roma (IV–X secolo), ed. Federico Guidobaldi and Alessandra Guiglia Guidobaldi (Rome, 2002), 1:109–42. Finneran, Niall. “Ethiopian Christian Material Culture: The International Context. Aksum, the Mediterranean and the Syriac Worlds in the Fifth to Seventh Centuries,” in Incipient Globalization: Long-Distance Contacts in the Sixth Century, ed. Anthea Harris (Oxford, 2007), pp. 75–89. Fiocchi Nicolai, Vincenzo, Fabrizio Bisconti, Danilo Mazzoleni. The Christian Catacombs of Rome. History, Decoration, Inscriptions, trans. Cristina Carlo Stella and Lori-Ann Touchette (Regensburg, 2nd ed., 1999). Mathews, Thomas F. The Early Churches of Constantinople: Architecture and Liturgy (University Park, PA, 1971). Meredith, Hallie G. “Christianizing Constantine: Eusebius’ Vita Constantini as a Late Antique Social Canvas,” in Objects in Motion: The Circulation of Religion and Sacred Objects in the Late Antique and Byzantine World, ed. Hallie G. Meredith, [BAR International Series 2247], (Oxford, 2011), pp. 7–22. Schachner, Lukas Amadeus. “The Archaeology of the Stylite,” Late Antique Archaeology, 6 (2010), 329–97. Sessa, Kristina. “Christianity and the Cubiculum: Spiritual Politics and Domestic Space in Late Antique Rome,” Journal of Early Christian Studies, 15 (2007), 171–204. 102 CATHOLIC MATERIAL CULTURE: AN INTRODUCTORY BIBLIOGRAPHY Medieval Bynum, Caroline Walker. Christian Materiality: An Essay on Religion in Late Medieval Europe (New York, 2011). Clark, Anne L. “Venerating the Veronica: Varieties of Passion Piety in the Later Middle Ages,” Material Religion: The Journal of Objects, Art, and Belief, 3 (2007), 164–89. Fassler, Margot Elspeth. The Virgin of Chartres: Making History through Liturgy and the Arts (New Haven, 2010). Fliegel, Stephen N. Resplendent Faith: Liturgical Treasuries of the Middle Ages (Kent, OH, 2009). Gilchrist, Roberta. Gender and Material Culture: The Archeology of Religious Women (London, 1994). ———. Religious Women in Medieval East Anglia: History and Archeology c. 1100–1540 (Norwich, UK, 1993). ———. Requiem: The Medieval Monastic Cemetery in Britain (London, 2005). Hahn, Cynthia. Strange Beauty: Issues in the Making and Meaning of Reliquaries, 400–circa 1204 (University Park, PA, 2012). Hourihane, Colum, ed. Objects, Images, and the Word: Art in the Service of the Liturgy, [Index of Christian Art Occasional Papers VI], (Princeton, 2003). Miller, Maureen C. The Bishop’s Palace: Architecture and Authority in Medieval Italy (Ithaca, NY, 2000). ———. Clothing the Clergy: Virtue and Power in Medieval Europe, c. 800– 1200 (Ithaca, NY, 2014). Paine, Crispin. “The Portable Altar in Christian Tradition and Practice,” in Meredith, ed., Objects in Motion, pp. 25–42. Pentcheva, Bissera V. The Sensual Icon: Space, Ritual, and the Senses in Byzantium (University Park, PA, 2010). Zchomelidse, Nino. Art, Ritual, and Civic Identity in Medieval Southern Italy (University Park, PA, 2014). Modern European Aston, Nigel. Art and Religion in Eighteenth-Century Europe (London, 2009). Bray, Xavier. The Sacred Made Real: Spanish Painting and Sculpture 1600– 1700 (New Haven, 2009). Christian, William, Jr. Divine Presence in Spain and Western Europe, 1500– 1960 (Budapest, 2012). ———. Moving Crucifixes in Modern Spain (Princeton, 1992). MAUREEN C. MILLER 103 Duffy, Eamon. The Stripping of the Altars: Traditional Religion in England, c. 1400–c. 1580 (New Haven, 1992). Evangelisti, Silvia. “Material Culture,” in Ashgate Research Companion to the Counter-Reformation, ed. Alexandra Bamji, Geert H. Janssen, and Mary Laven (Farnham, UK, 2013), pp. 395–416. Grewe, Cordula. Painting the Sacred in the Age of Romanticism (Farnham, UK, 2009). Harrison, Carol E. “First Communion: The Most Beautiful Day in the Lives and Deaths of Little Girls,” in Romantic Catholics (Ithaca, NY, 2014), pp. 28–65. Kasl, Ronda, ed. Sacred Spain: Art and Belief in the Spanish World (New Haven, 2009). Lepage, Andrea. “Art and the Counter-Reformation,” in Bamji, Janssen, and Lavin, eds., Ashgate Research Companion to the Counter-Reformation, pp. 373–94. Notermans, Catrien, and Willy Jansen. “Ex-votos in Lourdes: Contested Materiality of Miraculous Healings,” Material Religion: The Journal of Objects, Art, and Belief, 7 (2011), 168–92. O’Brien, Suzanne J. Crawford. “Well, Water, Rock: Holy Wells, Mass Rocks and Reconciling Identity in the Republic of Ireland,” Material Religion: The Journal of Objects, Art, and Belief, 4 (2008), 326–48. Webster, Susan Verdi. Art and Ritual in Golden Age Spain (Princeton, 1998). Williams, Richard L. “Contesting the Everyday: The Cultural Biography of a Subversive Playing Card,” in Everyday Objects: Medieval and Early Modern Material Culture and Its Meanings, ed. Tara Hamling and Catherine Richardson (Farnham, UK, 2010), pp. 241–56. American and Canadian Brown, Ian W. “The New England Cemetery as a Cultural Landscape,” in History and Things: Essays on Material Culture, ed. Steven Lubar and W. David Kingery (Washington, DC, 1993), pp. 140–59. Farago, Claire. “Transforming Images: New Mexican Santos between Theory and History,” in The Visual Culture of American Religions, ed. David Morgan and Sally M. Promey (Berkeley, 2001), pp. 191–208. Grubiak, Margaret M. “Visualizing the Modern Catholic University: The Original Intention of ‘Touchdown Jesus’ at the University of Notre Dame,” Material Religion: The Journal of Objects, Art, and Belief, 6 (2010), 336–68. Haas, Katherine. “The Fabric of Religion: Vestments and Devotional Catholicism in Nineteenth-Century America,” Material Religion: The Journal of Objects, Art, and Belief, 3 (2007), 190–217. 104 CATHOLIC MATERIAL CULTURE: AN INTRODUCTORY BIBLIOGRAPHY Hartel, Heather A. “Producing Father Baker: Material and Visual Practices of Making a Saint,” Material Religion: The Journal of Objects, Art, and Belief, 2 (2006), 320–48. Martin, Kathleen J., ed. Indigenous Symbols and Practices in the Catholic Church: Visual Culture, Missionization and Appropriation (Aldershot, UK, 2010). McDannell, Colleen. “Interpreting Things: Material Culture Studies and American Religion,” Religion, 21 (1991), 371–87. ———. Material Christianity: Religion and Popular Culture in America (New Haven, 1995). Pasulka, Diana Walsh. “The Eagle and the Dove: Constructing Catholic Identity through Word and Image in the Nineteenth-Century United States,” Material Religion: The Journal of Objects, Art, and Belief, 4 (2008), 306–24. Schwain, Kristin. Signs of Grace: Religion and American Art in the Gilded Age (Ithaca, NY, 2008). ———. “Visual Culture and American Religions,” Religion Compass, 4 (2010), 190–201. Tweed, Thomas A. “America’s Church: Roman Catholicism and Civic Space in the Nation’s Capital,” Material Religion: The Journal of Objects, Art, and Belief, 2 (2006), 68–86. Latin American Achim, Miruna. “Mysteries of the Heart: The Gift of Bishop Fernández de Santa Cruz to the Nuns of Santa Mónica,” Colonial Latin American Review, 14 (2005), 83–102. Carmichael, Elizabeth, and Chloë Sayer. The Skeleton at the Feast: The Day of the Dead in Mexico (Austin, TX, 1992). Carrilo y Gariel, Abelardo. Evolución del mueble en México (Mexico, 1957). Contested Visions in the Spanish Colonial World, curated by Ilona Katzew (Los Angeles and New Haven, 2011). Cuadriello, Jaime, ed. Los pinceles de la historia: El origen del reino de la Nueva España, 1680–1750 (Mexico, 1999). ———. The Glories of the Republic of Tlaxcala: Art and Life in Viceregal Mexico (Austin, TX, 2011). Donahue-Wallace, Kelly. “La casada imperfecta: A Woman, a Print, and the Inquisition,” Mexican Studies / Estadios Mexicanos, 18 (2002), 231–50. Farago, Claire. “Prints and the Pauper: Artifice, Religion, and Free Enterprise in Popular Sacred Art,” in Art and Faith in Mexico: The Nineteenth-Century Retablo Tradition, ed. Elizabeth Netto Calil Zarur and Charles Muir Lovell (Albuquerque, 2001), pp. 47–55. MAUREEN C. MILLER 105 Katzew, Ilona. “The Virgin of the Macana: Emblem of a Franciscan Predicament in New Spain,” Colonial Latin American Review, 12 (2003), 171–98. Kubler, George. Mexican Architecture of the Sixteenth Century, 2 vols., [Yale Publications in the History of Art 5], (Westport, CT, 1942–72). Lara, Jaime. City, Temple, Stage: Eschatalogical Architecture and Liturgical Theatrics in New Spain (South Bend, IN, 2004). Levy, Yvonne, and Kenneth Mills, eds. Lexikon of the Hispanic Baroque: Transatlantic Exchange and Transformation (Austin, TX, 2014). Luque Agraz, Elín. El arte de dar gracias: los exvotos pictóricos de la Virgen de la Soledad de Oaxaca (Mexico, 2007). Weismann, Elizabeth Wilder. “An Exvoto by José Patricio Polo—1741,” Anales del Instituto de Investigaciones Estéticas, 10, no. 37 (1968), 45– 47. ———. Mexico in Sculpture, 1521–1821 (Cambridge, MA, 1950). Asian and African Bruland, Stine. “Transgressing Religious Boundaries: The Power of Aesthetics in Tamil Catholic and Hindu Worship,” Religion: The Journal of Objects, Art, and Belief, 9 (2013), 418–40. De La Paz, Cecilia. “The Potency of Poon: Religious Sculpture, Performativity, and the Mahal Na Senyor of Lucban,” in The Spirit of Things: Materiality and Religious Diversity in Southeast Asia, ed. Julius Bautista (Ithaca, NY, 2012), pp. 183–96. Fromont, Cécile. “Collecting and Translating Knowledge Across Cultures: Capuchin Missionary Images of Early Modern Central Africa, 1650– 1750,” in Collecting Across Cultures: Material Exchanges in the Early Modern Atlantic World, ed. Daniela Bleichmar and Peter C. Mancall (Philadelphia, 2011), pp. 134–54. Guan, Yeoh Seng. “Holy Water and Material Religion in a Pilgrimage Shrine in Malaysia,” in Bautista, ed., The Spirit of Things, pp. 79–94. Kataoka, Ignatia Rumiko. “The Adaptation of the Sacraments to Japanese Culture during the Christian Era,” in Christianity and Cultures: Japan & China in Comparison 1543–1644, ed. M. Antoni J. Üçerler, [Bibliotheca Instituti Historici S. I. 68], (Rome, 2009), pp. 112–25. Midori, Wakakuwa. “Iconography of the Virgin Mary in Japan & Its Transformation: Chinese Buddhist Sculpture and Maria Kannon,” in Üçerler, ed., Christianity and Cultures, pp. 228–48. Tan, Chang-Kwo. “Syncretic Objects: Material Culture of Syncretism among the Paiwan Catholics, Taiwan,” Journal of Material Culture, 7 (2002), 167–87. 106 CATHOLIC M ATERIAL CULTURE: AN INTRODUCTORY BIBLIOGRAPHY Yeoh, Seng-Guan. “For/Against Hybridity: Religious Entrepreneurships in a Roman Catholic Pilgrimage Shrine in Malaysia,” Asian Journal of Social Science, 37 (2009), 7–28. ———. “Religious Pluralism, Kinship and Gender in a Pilgrimage Shrine: The Roman Catholic Feast of St. Anne in Bukit Mertajam, Malaysia,” Material Religion: The Journal of Objects, Art, and Belief, 3 (2006), 4–37. Podcasts A History of the World in 100 Objects (http://www.bbc.co.uk/podcasts/ series/ahow) Hinton St Mary Mosaic [emergence of the iconography of Christ in early Christianity]: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00shkn4 Icon of the Triumph of Orthodoxy [late-fourteenth-century icon, Constantinople]: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00swmjs Holy Thorn Reliquary [Paris, France, AD 1350–1400]: http://www .bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00swmrh Mexican Codex Map [conversion and syncretism: map painted on bark, made in Tlaxcala, Mexico, AD 1550–1600]: http://www .bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00tz2d7 Websites Online Exhibit: Laughlin, Corinna. “Holy Things, Holy People: Exploring Catholic History in the Northwest through Treasures from the Past”: http:// www.stjames-cathedral.org/history/holythings/holythings.aspx Collections: American Catholic History Research Center and University Archives: http://archives.lib.cua.edu/ Boston Museum of Fine Arts: http://www.mfa.org/search/collections Cleveland Museum of Art: http://www.clevelandart.org/ Jubilee Museum and Catholic Cultural Center, Columbus, OH: http:// www.jubileemuseum.org/ Metropolitan Museum of Art: http://www.metmuseum.org/ The Object of History: http://www.objectofhistory.org Roy Rosenzweig Center for History and New Media: http://www .chnm.gmu.edu Teenie Harris Photo Archive: http://teenie.cmoa.org Victoria and Albert Museum: http://www.vam.ac.uk The Efforts to Sign a Concordat between Chile and the Holy See in 1 9 2 8 CARLOS SALINAS ARANEDA* With the enactment of the Chilean Constitution of 1925 that resulted in the separation of church and state, discussions took place regarding the signing of a concordat between Chile and the Holy See. Although references to this event have been made, the existence of actual proposals was unknown. The opening to researchers of the materials in the Vatican Secret Archives pertaining to the papacy of Pius XI has led to the discovery of three documents drafted as the parties worked to reach a final concordat. The author discusses these documents. Keywords: Concordats, Chilean church-state relations, churchstate separation, patronage, Pius XI T he independence of Chile from the Spanish monarchy was declared in 1818, bringing to a close a process that began on September 18, 1810, with the first meeting of the national government. The young republic reached out to the Holy See, resulting in the first diplomatic mission from the Holy See to America. It was led by Monsignor Giovanni Muzzi and came to be known as the “Muzzi Mission.” Muzzi’s secretary was a young monsignor, Giovanni Maria dei conti Mastai Ferretti, who would later take the name Pius IX and become the longest serving pope in history (1846–78). In the nineteenth century, the Chilean government made several overtures to the Holy See related to formulating a concordat. It was not alone in this goal, as other Latin American countries had the same intention. However, although the Holy See signed concordats with some of these nations, no formal agreement was reached with Chile at this time.1 The *Dr. Salinas is senior lecturer in history of law and canon law at the Pontificia Universidad Católica de Valparaíso in Chile, email: csalinas@ucv.cl. This research has been carried out as part of Fondecyt Project 1120345 for which the author is the leading researcher. Unless otherwise noted, the author has provided the translations in this article. The author is very grateful to the anonymous reviewers of The Catholic Historical Review for their comments and advice. 1. The following countries signed concordats with the Holy See: Bolivia (1851), Costa Rica (1852), Guatemala (1852, 1884), Haiti (1860), Honduras (1861), Nicaragua (1861), San Salvador (1862), Venezuela (1862), Ecuador (1862, 1881), and Colombia (1887). 100 CARLOS SALINAS ARANEDA 101 patronage system, a legacy from Spanish authorities that was a part of the fabric of the Constitution of 1833, prevented the signing of the planned concordat, despite the willingness shown by the Holy See.2 The Chilean authorities eventually shelved the plan.3 The revision of Chile’s constitution in 1925 provided a new opportunity for a concordat between Chile and the Holy See, resulting in several proposals in 1928. To understand these efforts, it is necessary to examine the relationship among the Church, the Chilean government, and the Spanish monarchy. Background to the 1 9 2 8 Proposals for a Concordat In 1508, when Pope Julius II (1503–13) granted the right of patronage to the Catholic king and queen of Spain,4 it was the first time that monarchs had been accorded this authority in a substantial way, although the royal power was confined to the selection of candidates for ecclesiastical positions. Once these candidates were presented, the pope appointed them (in the case of bishops), or the bishops appointed them (in the case of diocesan officials or parish priests). The grant of the tithes by Alexander VI through the papal bull Eximiae devotionis sinceritas (November 16, 1501),5 and the papal bull Exponi nobis of Adrian VI (1522–23) that granted kings authority over matters pertaining to mis- 2. It was granted by Julius II (1503–13) to the Catholic kings via the papal bull Universalis Ecclesiae Regiminis, dated July 28, 1508. The best edition is that of Pedro Leturia, “The Bull of the Patronage of the Spanish Indies Missing from the Vatican Archive,” in Relaciones entre la Santa Sede e Hispanoamérica, 1: Época del real patronato 1493–1880 [Relations between the Holy See and Hispano-America, 1: Era of the Patronage Real 1493–1880] (Caracas, 1959), pp. 253–58. 3. Carlos Oviedo Cavada, “Un siglo de relaciones entre la Santa Sede y Chile, 1822– 1925” [A Century of Relations between the Holy See and Chile, 1822–1925], Diplomacia, 39 (1987), 18–30; Oviedo Cavada, “Negociaciones chilenas sobre convenios con la Santa Sede” [Chilean Negotiations on Agreements with the Holy See], Finis Terrae, 19 (1958), 37–53; Oviedo Cavada, La mision Irarrázabal en Roma 1847–1850 [The Irarrazabal Mission in Rome, 1847–1850] (Santiago, 1962). 4. W. Eugene Shiels, King and Church: The Rise and Fall of the Patronato Real (Chicago, 1961). The Spanish bibliography is abundant. 5. The text is in Antonio Garrido Aranda, Organización de la Iglesia en el Reino de Granada y su proyección en Indias (Seville, 1979), pp. 330–31. The tithe was an ecclesiastical contribution of a 10-percent tax imposed on agricultural production. In 1510 Julius II, through the papal bull Eximiae devotionis affectus, declared that precious metals were free from tithes, and the tithe was granted totally to the Crown. The text is found in Colección de Documentos Inéditos de Ultramar, 5, p. 205 and passim. 102 EFFORTS TO SIGN A CONCORDAT BETWEEN CHILE AND THE HOLY SEE sionary work,6 provided monarchs with the tools needed to organize every aspect of the Church in the New World. Although the original grant by Julius II concerning royal patronage had a specific focus, over time the Spanish Crown began to take actions that would widen the scope of its role in the Church. These included the royal permit (a review performed by the Spanish authorities of every document issued by the Holy See), appeals to courts (appeals to the king’s courts for the reversal of a decision by an ecclesiastical court), and the requirement that bishops had to communicate with the Holy See through the Council of the Indies (a government entity). The Holy See lacked the means to oppose these substantial inroads into its authority. Thus, what had originally been a pontifical concession came to be considered as a privilege of the Crown.7 Such was the state of affairs when Chile gained its independence in 1818, with the royal encroachments into the purview of the Church so institutionalized that many government officials believed them part of Julius’s original grant and thus incumbent on them to carry out. Despite the heavy influence of this tradition, the utis posidetis was not altogether convincing. Thus Chile sought a formal relationship with the Holy See. In the mid-nineteenth century Chile’s attempt to reach a concordat with the Holy See took the form of the mission spearheaded by Ramón Luis Irarrázabal, the Chilean chancellor. Pope Pius IX had visited Chile in his role with the Muzzi Mission. He had a special regard for Chile8 and therefore supported efforts to craft an agreement. He appointed a commission of cardinals to study the matter, which conceded the royal right of patronage in Chile yet confined the royal role to candidate presentation and stated that such patronage would be a special privilege granted by the Holy See to Chile. The commission’s recommendations can be regarded as an effort to end the inroads into church authority by the Spanish Crown and to negate the claim that patronage was an inherent attribute of sovereignty by classifying the grant of patronage as a special privilege. Under 6. The text is in Latin and Spanish in Francisco Javier Hernáez, Colección de bulas, breves y otros documentos relativos a la iglesia de América y Filipinas, 2 vols. (Brussels, 1879), 1:382–86; and in Spanish in Roberto Levillier, Organización de la Iglesia y Órdenes religiosas en el Virreinato del Perú en el siglo XVI, 2 vols. (Madrid, 1919), 2:41–44. 7. Manuel Giménez Fernández, “Las regalías mayestáticas en el Derecho Canónico Indiano,” Anuario de Estudios Americanos, 6 (1949), 799–812. 8. Lillian Calm, El Chile de Pío IX: 1824 (Santiago, 1987). CARLOS SALINAS ARANEDA 103 these conditions Chile was not in a position to sign a concordat, because the patronage system was a part of the 1833 Constitution. Thus the concordat was not enacted. However, the recommendations of the commission of cardinals were used by the Holy See in conversations held with other Latin American officials in subsequent years. A concordat with Bolivia was drafted in 1851, but the Bolivian Congress did not ratify it on the grounds that the right of patronage was not a privilege granted by the Holy See but a right of sovereignty. Nevertheless, the draft concordat with Bolivia became the model for future concordats with other Latin American countries. Thus Chile’s early attempt at a concordat laid the foundation for the Holy See to resolve issues in its concordat policy. This is what a French author has called the prehistory of the modern concordat system.9 This prehistory provided the groundwork for “the new era of concordats.”10 After World War I, new independent states and revamped territorial borders in Europe led to papal initiatives on formal agreements of such a scope that Pius XI has been called the pope of concordats.11 Several reasons explain the flurry of diplomatic agreements during the papacy of Pius XI.12 There was a need to convey the presence of the Church in a world that had undergone substantial material and spiritual transformations in wartime. Thus, an expression of the juridical role was necessary so as to facilitate the action of the Church. In fact, all the countries that agreed to concordats assumed a double commitment: not to 9. Roland Minerath, L’Eglise catholique face aux États. Deux Siècles de pratique concordataire 1801–2010 (Paris, 2012), pp. 418–49. 10. The expression is from Yves de La Brière, which quotes Roland Minnerath, L’Église catolique face aux États. Deux Siècles de pratique concordataire 1801–2010 (Paris, 2012), p. 61. 11. Giordano Stella, Pio XI il Papa dei concordati (Milan, 2009); Gonzalo Redondo, Historia de la Iglesia, III: La Iglesia en la Edad Contemporánea (Madrid, 1989), pp. 227–35; Historia de la Iglesia en el mundo contemporáneo, II: De León XIII a Pío XI (Pamplona, 1978), pp. 179–98. 12. Yves de la Brière, “Aspect général de la politique concordataire du pontificat de Pie XI,” in Les concordats conclus sous le pontificat de Pie XI (Paris, 1930), pp. 38–56, here pp. 55– 56; Yves Chiron, Pio XI. Il papa dei Patti Lateranensi e dell’opposizione ai totalitarismi (Milano, 2006), pp. 175–77; Antonino Consoli, “Il pontificato di Pio XI e la società civile. Alcune riflessioni sulla sua attività concordataria,” in Il pontificato di Pío XI a cinquant’anni di distanza, ed. Adriano Bausola (Milan, 1991), pp. 55–83, here pp. 58–59; José Escudero Imbert, “El difícil pontificado de Pío XI,” in Cien años de pontificado romano. De León XIII a Juan Pablo II, ed. Josep-Ignasi Saranyana (Pamplona, 1997), pp. 77–119, here pp. 86–89. 104 EFFORTS TO SIGN A CONCORDAT BETWEEN CHILE AND THE HOLY SEE hinder the freedom of religious activities and to guarantee the free exercise of such activities. In cases such as Italy,13 Poland,14 and Lithuania,15 priests were given a special protection. Furthermore, the efforts of Benedict XV (1914–22) in pursuing a just peace may have enhanced the Church’s public prestige and thus assisted his successor’s efforts.16 In addition, the rise of revolutionary movements in the interwar period drove many governments to seek a rapprochement with Rome as a counterbalance. The “new era of concordats” began in 1922 with the concordat with Latvia, signed on May 30 of that year.17 A new concordat was signed in 1925 between the Holy See and Poland on February 10, 1925.18 Two concordats and a Modus Vivendi were signed by the Holy See in 1927: the first of the concordats was signed with Romania on May 10, 1927,19 and a concordat between the Holy See and Lithuania was signed on September 27, 1927.20 On December 17, 1927, the Holy See signed a Modus Vivendi with Czechoslovakia.21 Some of them were used as models for the 1928 Chilean proposals.22 In all, twenty-three covenants, concordats, and treaties were signed during the papacy of Pius, with Catholic nations such as Italy and 13. Concordato fra la Santa Sede e l’Italia (February 11, 1929), arts. 4–8, in Enchiridion dei concordati. Due secoli di storia dei rapporti Chiesa-Stato, ed. Erminio Lora (Bologna, 2003), pp. 737–38, nos. 1492–96. Hereafter cited as Enchiridion. 14. Sollemnis Conventio inter Sanctam Sedem et Poloniae Rempublicam (February 10, 1925), arts. II, V, XVIII, XX, XXII, in Enchiridion, pp. 654–71, no. 1284, 1287, 1300, 1302, 1304. 15. Concordat entre le Saint-Siège et le Gouvernement de Lithuanie (September 27, 1927), arts. II, V, XIV, XVIII, XX, XXIV, in Enchiridion, pp. 698–711, no. 1388, 1391, 1404, 1408, 1410, 1417. 16. Giorgio Rumi, Benedetto XV e la pace, 1918 (Brescia, 1990); Benedetto XV, i cattolici e la prima guerra mondiale, ed. Giuseppe Rossini (Rome, 1963). 17. Concordat entre le Saint-Siège et le Gouvernement de Lettonie (May 30, 1922), in Enchiridion, pp. 590–97, nos. 1147–171. 18. Sollemnis Conventio, pp. 654–75, nos. 1282–326. 19. Inter Sanctam, pp. 680–99, nos. 1336–85. 20. Concordat entre, pp. 698–711, nos. 1386–422. 21. Modus vivendi inter Sanctam Sedem et Rempublicam Cecoslovacham (December 17, 1927), in Enchiridion, pp. 710–15, nos. 1423–30. 22. The exchange note and the convention with Colombia must be considered for the interpretation of article 17 of the concordat (1923–24). Not applicable here are the exchange notes between the secretary of state and the state council of the canton of Freiburg in Switzerland (1924); as well as the agreements between the Holy See and France on the liturgical honors in countries where the religious protectorate of France exercises its power or in countries where capitulations are advocated or not applied (1926). The agreement between the Holy See and Portugal to update some aspects of the concordat of 1886, which was signed on April 15, 1928, does not appear to have influenced the Chilean proposals, as it was written in Portuguese and therefore was not a very accessible text for Chileans. CARLOS SALINAS ARANEDA 105 Protestant countries such as Prussia23; significant agreements include the Lateran pacts and the concordats with the Third Reich24 and Austria.25 The Chilean Constitution of 1 9 2 5 : A New Chance for a Concordat The almost century-old Constitution of 1833 was replaced by the Constitution of 1925, which proclaimed religious freedom of worship and thus ended the Catholic confessional regime that Chile dated from the earliest years of its independence. The separation of church and state in Chile was achieved amicably through informal conversations between the thenpresident, Arturo Alessandri Palma, and Cardinal Pietro Gasparri, secretary of state to Benedict XV and Pius XI (1852–1934, in office 1914–30). The Holy See imposed some conditions on the separation, including the signing of a concordat. However, Alessandri believed that insufficient time existed to create and obtain approval of such a document, given the urgency of promulgating the new constitution. The text of the new constitution did meet the Holy See’s other conditions.26 Until recently, little was known about this proposed concordat, although some documentation suggested that steps had been taken by Chilean officials to formalize the concordat and thus agree to the conditions of the Holy See—unlike the nineteenth-century attempts in which the initiative came from the Chilean government.27 The opening of the Vatican 23. Vertrag des Freistaates Preussen mit dem Heiligen Stuhle (June 14, 1929), in Enchiridion, pp. 752–73, nos. 1552–97. 24. Konkordat zwischen dem Heiligen Stuhl und dem Deutschen Reich (July 20, 1933), in Enchiridion, pp. 864–87, nos. 1901–51; Victor Conzemius, “Le concordat du 20 juillet 1933 entre le Saint-Siège et l’Allemagne. Esquisse d’un bilan de la recherche catholique,” Archivum Historiae Pontificae, 6 (1977), 333–62. 25. Konkordat zwischen dem Heiligen Stuhl und der Republik Österreich (June 5, 1933), in Enchiridion, pp. 834–65, nos. 1822–900. 26. The Holy See’s conditions were the following: a prohibition against Chile becoming an atheist state; the requirement of an invocation of the name of God in the promulgation of the new constitution; the operation of private education without using the word secular; inclusion of a denunciation of the practices of royal overreach found in the Constitution of 1833 such as patronage and regium exequatur; inclusion of concordats among the listing of international agreements; and the signing of a concordat and financial compensation of the Holy See from the state due to moving the expense of religious worship to the Church. Carlos Oviedo Cavada, “La jerarquía eclesiástica y la separación de la Iglesia y el Estado en 1925” [The Ecclesiastic Hierarchy and the Separation of Church and State in 1925], Boletín de la Academia Chilena de la Historia, 89 (1975–76), 28. 27. Alejandro Lira, Memorias (Santiago, 1950), pp. 168–83; Juan Ignacio González Errázuriz, “El Estado de Chile ante la Iglesia católica. ¿Existió un concordato en 1925?” [The 106 EFFORTS TO SIGN A CONCORDAT BETWEEN CHILE AND THE HOLY SEE Secret Archives of the materials pertaining to the papacy of Pius XI, decreed by Pope Benedict XVI,28 has shown that there were official discussions between the government and the Holy See to finalize a concordat. The analysis below describes the proposals that were drawn up at that time. The 1 9 2 8 Proposals for a Concordat Nurturing the process toward a concordat was Archbishop Ettore Felici (1881–1951), apostolic nuncio to Chile. After presenting his credentials to President Carlos Ibáñez del Campo on January 2, 1928, he wrote in a March 15 letter to Gasparri that “in accordance with the instructions I was given before leaving Rome, I have spoken discreetly to the Government on the subject of a concordat.”29 The nuncio added that he had spoken with several members of the cabinet on the subject and that these conversations seemed to be well received. He had been informed that a draft was pending approval of the president, and the undersecretary of foreign affairs told him apart from some slight modifications, it was similar to the text of the concordat signed recently with Lithuania, a text which I thought it incumbent to present to the Minister, to encourage him to continue the example of the young republic.30 In light of the news that Felici gave to his superior, it was clear that he had attempted to restart the concordat process that had stalled since the promulgation of the Constitution of 1925, that his actions were based on instructions received from Rome, and that he had provided Chilean authorities with the Holy See-Lithuania concordat of 1927 as a model for Chile to follow. Thus, the initiative seems to have come from the Holy See. Three concordat proposals (see table 1) were considered at the time: two were presented informally by the Chilean government for consideraChilean State and the Catholic Church: Was There a Concordat in 1925?], Ius Publicum, 5 (2000), 47–57. 28. Bolletino della Sala Stampa della Santa Sede, no. 340, June 30, 2006, retrieved May 24, 2011, http://www.vatican.va. 29. “Conformemente alle istruzioni da temi prima della mia partenza da Roma, non ho mancato di richiamare discretamente l’attenzione del Governo su la opportunità di un concordato.” Vatican City, Vatican Secret Archives, Affari Ecclesiastici Straordiari. Cile 1927– 1928. Pos. 283–285 PO. Fasc. 47, fol. 26. Hereafter cited as Vatican. 30. “Salvo leggere modificazioni, il testo del concordato testé concluso con la Lituania, testo que avevo creduto bene portare a conoscenza del ministro, per incoraggiarlo a seguire l’esempio della giovane repubblica.” Ibíd., fol. 26. CARLOS SALINAS ARANEDA 107 TABLE 1. Chile’s concordat proposals of 1928 at a glance Proposal Proposal 1 May 1, 1928 Proposal 2 May 23, 1928 Presenter and recipient Some key provisions Ramón Subercaseaux Vicuña, Chilean ambassador to the Holy See, to Pietro Gasparri, secretary of state to Pius XI • twenty-nine articles • freedom of religion • clergy exempt from mandatory military service and from roles that violate priestly duties • Ordinaries must make proper rulings vis à vis civil marriages in accordance with Chilean law • Catholic cemeteries operated in accordance with Chilean law • prayers for the country/ president at Mass • pensions for ecclesiastics • governmental role in naming of bishops and establishment of new religious communities • civil oath of bishops • religious education in government institutions • ten-year term of concordat Conrado Ríos Gallardo, Chilean minister of foreign affairs, to Archbishop Ettore Felici, apostolic nuncio to Chile • twenty-seven articles • no preamble • no prayers at Mass for country/president • definition of seminary students • precedence of civil marriage over church marriage • canon law does not override Chilean law • no pensions for ecclesiastics • governmental role in naming of bishops and establishment of new religious communities • ten-year term of concordat • civil oath of bishops • religious education in government institutions Continued on next page 108 EFFORTS TO SIGN A CONCORDAT BETWEEN CHILE AND THE HOLY SEE TABLE 1. (continued ) Proposal Proposal 3 May 29, 1928 Presenter and recipient Some key provisions Archbishop Ettore Felici, apostolic nuncio to Chile, to Conrado Ríos Gallardo, Chilean minister of foreign affairs • based on Proposal 2 • twenty-seven articles • most articles of Proposal 2 rewritten, with only eight unchanged • Catholic Church falls under public law • no government authorization of new religious communities • one-month period to raise political objections regarding clerical appointments • notification of Civil Registry Office of marriages and baptisms • new provision re Catholic Action • all students in government institutions receive religion classes, unless parents objected • fifty-year term of concordat • civil oath of bishops tion by the Holy See in May 1928. The third was a counterproposal, also presented informally, by the apostolic nuncio to Chile based on the second proposal of the Chilean government. In 1928, the minister of foreign affairs was Conrado Ríos Gallardo (1896–1983), and the Chilean ambassador to the Holy See was Ramón Subercaseaux Vicuña (1854–1937). As previously mentioned, the apostolic nuncio to Chile was Felici, and the secretary of state for Pius was Gasparri.31 On Tuesday, May 1, 1928, Subercaseaux delivered one proposal, stating that he had instructions to request the opinion of the secretary of state on the proposal and that he would return the following Friday to receive the response. This is corroborated by the record in a pro memoria written on May 2 by Gasparri, which noted that Gasparri had examined the con31. Pius XI (1922–39) appointed Felici titular archbishop of Corinth and apostolic nuncio to Chile on November 6, 1927; he was ordained in Santiago on December 30, 1927. CARLOS SALINAS ARANEDA 109 cordat and had spoken to the Holy Father about it.32 This proposal (hereafter referred to as Proposal 1) contained twenty-nine articles regulating all issues of interest to the Chilean state and the Church.33 While this was happening in Rome, Felici wrote on May 2 to Gasparri, who was still awaiting the proposal promised by Ríos. He informed Gasparri that the chancellor had shown him the nearly finished document and had promised to send it to the nuncio after some other modifications were made.34 In another letter sent on Wednesday, May 30, 1928, Felici informed Gasparri that in an audience with Ríos held on the previous Wednesday (May 23), the expected concordat proposal had been handed over, and Ríos had asked the nuncio to examine it and to return it as soon as possible with his observations and comments.35 This proposal (hereafter referred to as Proposal 2) contained twenty-seven articles (two fewer than Proposal 1) and began directly with the articles, omitting the preamble of the previous one. Its content was similar to that of Proposal 1, although some differences existed (detailed below). Ríos’s request for Felici to return the proposal with his observations as soon as possible gave rise to a counterproposal from Felici remitted on May 29 (hereafter referred to as Proposal 3).36 Initially, the nuncio told Ríos that he was authorized only to receive the proposal and forward it to Rome. When the minister insisted, the nuncio appealed to Gasparri and was given direction. Felici then stated that he could respond to the request, but would only be expressing his personal opinion, his observations would not be binding on the Holy See; and future communications between the Holy See and Chile would take place as though the nuncio had been uninvolved in the process.37 Under these conditions, the nuncio reviewed the proposal. Felici’s counterproposal contains the same number of articles as Proposal 2—that is, twenty-seven. However, it was not merely a corrected version of the latter, as articles were removed, others were added, and most of the remaining articles were rewritten. Only eight of the original twenty-seven articles remained unchanged. 32. Vatican, fasc. 47, fols. 29–36. 33. Carlos Salinas Araneda, “Un primer proyecto de concordato entre Chile y la Santa Sede en 1928” [A First Project for a Concordat between Chile and the Holy See in 1928], Revista Chilena de Derecho, 39 (2012), 665–98. 34. Vatican, fasc. 47, fols. 38–39. 35. Ibid., fols. 43–46. 36. Ibid., fols. 56–64. 37. Ibid., fols. 43–46. 110 EFFORTS TO SIGN A CONCORDAT BETWEEN CHILE AND THE HOLY SEE Proposal Provisions on Preserving Existing Church-State Relations In general, Proposals 1 and 2 presented by the Chilean government set forth measures that reflected the current conduct of matters between Church and state (that is, establishing standards) as well as proposed some innovations. By the standard-setting exercise, Chile was ceding authority and acknowledging that any future modifications would need to be negotiated with the Holy See. Therefore, it stated that within the country, the Catholic Church would enjoy full liberty, with the freedom to erect and preserve churches and their other facilities, although these would be subject to the safety and hygiene regulations set by Chilean laws and regulations (Proposals 1 and 2, art. 1). Similarly, the Chilean government guaranteed the Church and its entities the free exercise of their spiritual power, and their ecclesiastical jurisdiction would depend only on the Church itself, along with the free administration of their assets and businesses, in accordance with canonical law and Chilean laws (Proposals 1 and 2, art. 2). In Proposal 2 the condition was added that canon law would not overrule Chilean law. In accordance with Chilean legislation, the churches, the Ordinaries, the parishes, and the religious communities legally established in Chile could acquire, possess, sell, and administer (under the rules of canon law) their own assets and appear before the state authorities in defense of their civil liberties (Proposal 1, art. 20). Proposals 1 and 2, however, were silent on the Church’s legal status in regard to public law, which, although recognized in the Civil Code (art. 547, para. 2), had led to some arguments that the Church’s legal status fell under private law.38 Ecclesiastics would be exempt from exercising functions or responsibilities that were incompatible with priesthood such as administering justice on matters outside the ecclesiastic scope (Proposal 1, art. 9; Proposal 2, art. 8). Ecclesiastics, those who had taken their vows, seminary students, and novices who had entered seminaries or novitiate before a declaration of war would be exempt from mandatory military service. In the case of voluntary enrollment in military service, the members of the clergy would exercise their duties in the ranks or in sanitation or administrative services (Proposal 1, art. 8; Proposal 2, art. 7). Proposal 2 defined seminary students as those students in the ecclesiastic section of seminaries, for seminaries also educated students who did not aspire to the priesthood. The 38. Carlos Salinas Araneda, Lecciones de derecho eclesiástico del Estado de Chile [Lessons on Ecclesiastical Law of the Chilean State] (Valparaiso, 2004), pp. 263–80. CARLOS SALINAS ARANEDA 111 salaries, bonuses, and pensions of “ecclesiastic functionaries” (clergymen who worked for the state or municipalities) would fall under the legal stipulations pertaining to salaries, bonuses, and pensions paid by the state and municipalities (Proposals 1 and 2, art. 6). If any ecclesiastic or clergyman were to be accused in Chilean courts of a crime, the court would immediately inform the corresponding Ordinary and must also send the decree of accusation and the sentence with its considerations, as appropriate (Proposal 1, art. 25; Proposal 2, art. 23). If any ecclesiastic or clergyman was arrested or sentenced to prison, the civil authorities would proceed with all due consideration of the individual’s ecclesiastic character and rank. If the conditions and the procedures of the penal establishment allowed it, the accused would be assigned a separate cell, unless the corresponding Ordinary had removed such privileges from the individual (Proposal 1, art. 26; Proposal 2, art. 24). The Chilean army would enjoy all the exemptions granted by the Holy See to other armies in accordance with the stipulations of canon law. With regard to their work with military officers and their families, military chaplains would have the rights of a curate and would exercise the functions of their ministry under the jurisdiction of the general military curate, who would have the right to choose them. The Holy See would allow the general military curate to be subject to military authorities with regard to his military service (Proposal 1, art. 11; Proposal 2, art. 10). When marriages were celebrated in accordance with the Catholic rite, priests would ensure in all ways possible that the celebration of the corresponding civil marriage was in accordance with Chilean law, wherein the Ordinaries should make proper rulings and ensure they were correctly observed (Proposal 1, art. 12). This article in Proposal 1 expressed the existing situation but made one addition: the obligation for Ordinaries to make effective rulings and ensure their adherence. This obligation implies that the state, if it so chose, could request documentation for verification. In Proposal 2 a new provision asserted the precedence of civil marriage over church marriage, such that the latter could only be celebrated once a certificate of civil marriage had been presented (Proposal 2, art. 11). In Proposal 1 there was an article stating that at Sunday Mass and on September 18 (the anniversary of Chilean independence), priests would pray for the prosperity of the country and the health of the president of the Republic (art. 13). This article was removed from Proposal 2. It was not new to state that religious education should be included in the curricula of all public schools in Chile for students whose parents or guardians had not 112 EFFORTS TO SIGN A CONCORDAT BETWEEN CHILE AND THE HOLY SEE previously stated to the headmaster of the school that they did not wish their children to receive this education. Similarly, this teaching would be provided by teachers authorized by the Ordinaries to perform such religious teaching; Ordinaries could withdraw this authorization if they so chose (Proposal 1, art. 18; Proposal 2, art. 16). The establishment of Catholic cemeteries in Chile would be permitted, but must be operated in accordance with Chilean legislation and canon law (Proposal 1, art. 21; Proposal 2, art. 19), thus concluding a long dispute between the Church and state. The Chilean government also guaranteed the autonomy of churches, chapels, convents, and Catholic cemeteries, but they would be subject to laws pertaining to public safety (Proposal 1, art. 10; Proposal 2, art. 9). Taxation would apply to ecclesiastics and Ordinaries, as well as the assets of the churches, parishes, and religious communities, in the same manner as others in the Republic, but facilities used for Catholic services, parochial houses, residences of Ordinaries, hospitals, hospices, orphanages, and others devoted to the poor would be exempt from paying property tax, and as long as no part of these clergymen’s income was used for personal financial gain. This provision also applied to Catholic seminaries, universities, schools, and colleges, for those areas used for instruction and those that did not produce income (Proposals 1 and 2, art. 3). This is an exemption that, at least in part, was guaranteed by the constitution (art. 10, no. 2). Moreover, the assets belonging to the Church would not be subject to resolutions or legal acts that could alter their use without the consent of ecclesiastic authorities, except in cases specified in the law on expropriation for public use. In these cases, the use of sacred property exclusively for religious purposes (such as churches or their resources) would only be altered for secular purposes once the respective ecclesiastic authority, duly notified, had been able to modify their sacred nature. Construction, modification, or restoration of churches or chapels by ecclesiastical authorities had to take place in accordance with Chilean law (Proposal 1, art. 19; Proposal 2, art. 17). Proposals 1 and 2 stated that ecclesiastics and their flocks were subject to the authority of their local Ordinary, in accordance with canon law, although such a provision fell outside the scope of a concordat (Proposal 1, art. 22; Proposal 2, art. 20). In truth, the situation of Chilean Catholics was the same with or without this article. One article of Proposal 1 recommends that the government’s introduction of a law granting ecclesiastic workers the option of benefits from the National Fund for Public Employees and Journalists, under conditions CARLOS SALINAS ARANEDA 113 to be determined by the government and the archbishop of Santiago (art. 7). This article did not appear in Proposal 2. Proposal Provisions That Introduced Innovations In articles that proposed innovations, the state sought to recover some powers it possessed prior to the Constitution of 1925. The most important of the rights granted to the state by the patronage system was the right of presentation to the Holy See of candidates for archbishops and bishops. The government of Chile always exercised this right, which was accepted by the Holy See, partly because the candidates presented by the government were generally clergymen of a high standard. Nevertheless, if a candidate was deemed by Rome to be inadequate, he would not be accepted— sometimes resulting in serious consequences. Such a situation occurred when the government presented canon Francisco de Paula Taforó for archbishop of Santiago. He was not accepted by the Holy See, which led to a rupture in diplomatic relations with Chile. With the separation of Church and state in the Constitution of 1925, the right of presentation was abolished. In fact, the Holy See imposed this as a condition for accepting the church-state separation of the Constitution of 1925—it was the abolition of state overreach into church matters as manifested in the Constitution of 1833; this was expressly conveyed in the new constitutional text.39 With this abolition, the day that the new constitution entered into force—October 18, 1925—the Holy See created seven new bishoprics in Chile without consulting the government.40 Shortly thereafter, on December 14, 1925, the bishops of the new dioceses were named by the Holy See without the former procedure of government presentation.41 39. According to article 82, no. 8, of the Constitution of 1833, it was a special power of the president of the Republic to present prospective archbishops, bishops, dignitaries, and prebends of the Catholic Church, under proposal from the State Council. The person chosen by the president for archbishop or bishop should also obtain the approval of the Senate. According to article 104, no. 3, it was the power of the State Council to propose prospective archbishops, bishops, dignitaries, and prebends for the Catholic Churches of the Republic; and article 39, no. 3 stated that it was the power of the Chamber of Senators “to approve the candidate that the President of the Republic presents for archbishops and bishops.” Article 1 transitory of the Constitution of 1925 expressly abolished these powers. 40. These were the bishoprics of San Felipe, Valparaiso, Rancagua, Talca, Linares, Chillan, and Temuco. The creation of some of these bishoprics, such as that of Valparaiso, had been attempted for some time, but was not possible due to opposition from the more radical parties in Congress. 41. Rafael Lira Infante, first bishop of Rancagua (1925–38), and Miguel León Prado, first bishop of Linares (1925–34). 114 EFFORTS TO SIGN A CONCORDAT BETWEEN CHILE AND THE HOLY SEE Proposal 1 attempted to establish a governmental role in the naming of bishops, although in a more mitigated form than the right of presentation. In effect, the provision recognized that the Holy See had the authority to appoint archbishops and bishops, but added that the pope would consult the president of the Republic before naming an archbishop or diocesan bishop, or clerics with the right of succession and general military curates, so that the president had the opportunity to raise objections to a candidate on political grounds (art. 16). There was no alteration to the status of the general military curate, as Pius X’s motu proprio In hac Beatissime Petri established that appointments for this post were made by agreement between Chile and the Holy See.42 Proposal 2 went further than Proposal 1, as the “political objections” of Proposal 1 became simply “objections,” thus broadening the possibilities for objection. In addition, there was the reinstitution of the civil oath for bishops, which had disappeared with the new constitution. The following wording was proposed: Before God and the Holy Saints, I hereby swear and promise as a bishop, fidelity to the Republic of Chile. I swear and promise to respect with all loyalty, and demand the respect by the clergy who are subject to me, for the government established by the Constitution. I swear and promise not to participate in an agreement or action that may be against Chile or against public order, not to allow my clergy to participate in similar acts, to safeguard the well-being and interests of the State and to attempt to avoid all and any danger that may threaten it. (Proposal 1, art. 17; Proposal 2, art. 15)43 The government also sought a role regarding religious communities. Although it recognized the purview of ecclesiastical authorities over ecclesiastical communities (Proposal 1, art. 15, para. 1; Proposal 2, art. 13, para. 1), the establishment of new religious communities in Chile required authorization from the government. Furthermore, foreigners in male religious communities established in Chile would be unable to hold positions above the rank of provincial without obtaining prior authorization from the government (Proposal 1, art. 15, paras. 2 and 3; Proposal 2, art. 13, paras. 2 and 3). 42. Acta Apostolicae Sedis, 2 (1910), 501–03; Law 2.463, art. 1. 43. “Ante Dios y sobre los Santos Evangelios juro y prometo como Obispo fidelidad a la República de Chile. Juro y prometo respetar con toda lealtad y hacer respetar por el clero de mi dependencia al gobierno establecido por la Constitución. Juro y prometo no participar en ningún acuerdo o acción que pueda atentar contra Chile o el orden público, no permitir a mi clero participar en semejantes actos, velar por el bien y el interés del Estado y tratar de evitarle todo peligro que lo amenace.” Vatican, fasc. 47, fols. 33, 51. CARLOS SALINAS ARANEDA 115 Another area was ecclesiastical benefits, functions, and positions. In Proposals 1 and 2, the government recognized the right of ecclesiastical authorities to provide these in accordance with canon law, but asserted that those who violated public order or the security of the state could not obtain parochial benefits. Nor could foreigners hold such positions, unless the government had authorized it (Proposal 1, art. 23; Proposal 2, art. 21). Moreover, government authorities could bring charges against an ecclesiastic as a result of activities against public order or the security of the state, present the charges to the appropriate Ordinary, and demand prompt action by the Ordinary. Should any disagreement arise over such a procedure, it would be resolved by a committee composed of two ecclesiastics named by the Holy See and two delegates named by the government (Proposal 1, art. 24; Proposal 2, art. 22). One article was taken directly from the Lithuania concordat; it mandated that a bishop residing outside the country could not administer a diocese of Chile. Such a provision was intended to address a situation from the War of the Pacific (1897), in which Chile fought against Peru and Bolivia. As a result of the war, Chile had occupied and taken under its jurisdiction the territories of Tacna and Arica. These areas were under the charge of Mariano Emilio Holguin y Maldonado, O.F.M, bishop of Arequipa, but problems had arisen. A general military vicariate had been created. The bishop must have regarded it as an encroachment on his authority, for on June 23, 1911, he decreed a ban on all religious ceremonies in Tacna and Arica.44 Although the military chaplain had written the bishop a conciliatory letter, the bishop held the belief that the jurisdiction of the military chaplain covered only military personnel and their families. The bishop’s action meant that the general populace was without spiritual services.45 The article was intended to resolve the problem by placing these areas under the jurisdiction of a Chilean bishop. 44. La Revista Católica [The Catholic Magazine], 240 (August 5, 1911), 89–90. 45. In “Relación de la visita practicada por Rafael Edwards, vicario general castrense a las guarniciones y demás dependencias militares de la provincia de Tacna” [Regarding the Visit from Rafael Edwards, General Military Chaplain to Military Garrisons in the Province of Tacna], July 26, 1911, it reads as follows: “How many times has the clamour of those who ask in vain, with tears in their eyes, reached the door of our heart, that we would be able to forgive their sins in the court of penitence? How can we not feel our souls breaking into pieces when we have to deny these cries? [...] Lord, said a poor woman, what blame do we have in this? Tell us, lord. Would it be right to say how many times we have risen up in the court of penitence those who seek in it the forgiveness of God?”. La Revista Católica [The Catholic Magazine], 242 (September 2, 1911), 261. 116 EFFORTS TO SIGN A CONCORDAT BETWEEN CHILE AND THE HOLY SEE Another article sought to address the “regium exequatur” power that had existed under the Constitution of 1833. This power allowed the president of the Republic to concede the regium or retain conciliar decrees, papal bulls, briefs and rescripts with the agreement of the State Council; but if they were to contain general stipulations the regium may only be conceded or retained by means of a law. (art. 73, no. 14)46 The proposals ensured that the bishops and the clergy could communicate freely and directly with the Holy See. Thus, the bishops could communicate with the clergy and the followers under their jurisdiction and publish their pastorals and bylaws (art. 4). However, in Proposal 2 it was clarified that the prelates would possess this freedom only if their pastorals and bylaws were aligned with Chilean laws. In principle, the Church was given broad liberty, but, although free communication of bishops to Rome was ensured, nothing was said about communication from Rome to the bishops and Chilean followers. Chilean secular authorities would support the execution of decisions and ecclesiastical decrees in cases where an ecclesiastic was deprived of the exercise of his ministry in public places used for religious or ecclesiastical purposes. The government also agreed to safeguard order during religious actions or demonstrations in public places or in other circumstances prescribed and permitted by Chilean law (Proposals 1 and 2, art. 5). Proposals 1 and 2 abrogated all the legal, regulatory, or administrative regulations in force in Chile that were contrary to those contained in the concordat proposals (Proposal 1, art. 27; Proposal 2, art. 25). They stated that the concordat would be ratified in Santiago as soon as possible (Proposal 1, art. 28; Proposal 2, art. 26). They stipulated that the period of the concordat would be ten years from the day of its ratification. After this period, the concordat would remain in force until one of the signatories notified the other, with advance notice of one year, of its resolution to terminate the agreement (Proposal 1, art. 29; Proposal 2, art. 27). 46. “Conceder el pase, o retener los decretos conciliares, bulas pontificias, breves y rescriptos con acuerdo del Consejo de Estado; pero, si contuviesen disposiciones generales, sólo podrá concederse el pase, o retenerse, por medio de una ley.” Chilean Constitution of 1833, art. 73, no. 14. CARLOS SALINAS ARANEDA 117 Proposal 3: Felici’s Response to Proposals 1 and 2 In the letter in which Felici sent Proposal 2 and his counterproposal to Gasparri, the nuncio stated that Proposals 1 and 2 contained dangerous clauses and “absolutely unacceptable”47 regulations. As a result, he had “unmercifully modified” the proposals,48 creating a counterproposal that he had sent to Ríos together with Ríos’s original proposals. The nuncio’s modifications aimed at clarifying the legal situation of the Church before Chilean law, as well as mitigating the neo-regulatory excesses of the government. Felici’s version began with the statement that the Catholic Church would enjoy full independence within the Republic of Chile in the exercise of its spiritual ministry and would have all the necessary freedom to fulfill its divine mission (art. 1). This immediately set out that the Chilean government would guarantee the Catholic Church free exercise of its spiritual power and its ecclesiastical jurisdiction, as well as its legal status as an entity that fell under public law (art. 2). The immediate consequence was that all ecclesiastical and religious persons recognized by canon law would enjoy complete freedom to acquire any type of assets and to possess, administer, mortgage, or sell them. This must be done in accordance with canon law and the laws in force for individuals recognized by public law. Such individuals also would have the right to appear before state authorities in defense of their civil liberties (art. 3). This provision was complemented by a new article in which Chile recognized the right of ownership of all ecclesiastical individuals over all moveable and immoveable assets, capital, income, and other rights possessed by these individuals within the country (art. 22). As previously mentioned, there was an unresolved issue as to whether the Church in Chile fell under the domain of public or private law. Felici wished to ensure the status of public law for the Church. The Civil Code made significant distinctions between these two legal statuses with regard to the possession and administration of immovable assets, as individuals of public law could acquire, maintain, and administer immoveable assets without any limitation. In contrast, individuals of private law could not possess acquired property without special permission from Congress; must sell such property in five years if permission was not obtained; would be subject to seizure of the property if permission had not been obtained; and would be subject to conditions on sale, mortgage, and rental of the property (arts. 556, 557). The uncertainty of the Church’s status vis à vis public and pri47. “Disposizioni assolutamente inaccettabili.” Vatican, fasc. 47, fol. 43. 48. “Modificai senza pietá il progetto.” Vatican, fasc. 47, fol. 44. 118 EFFORTS TO SIGN A CONCORDAT BETWEEN CHILE AND THE HOLY SEE vate law led many legal analysts to conclude that the seven dioceses created after the promulgation of the constitution had no legal status, as there was no law or decree that recognized them. Thus Felici’s concern to clarify the Church’s legal position under Chilean law can be understood. Felici’s counterproposal maintained recognition of free communication for the bishops with Rome, their clergy, and their flock (art. 5). This eliminated the addition to Proposal 2 (art. 4) regarding the need for pastorals and bylaws to avoid contradicting Chilean laws—essentially returning to the wording of Proposal 1 (art. 4). Regarding Catholic churches, chapels, convents, and cemeteries, Felici only retained the provision regarding their adherence to laws on public safety, eliminating the limitation regarding Chilean law. Government authorization for establishing new religious communities in Chile was also eliminated, only requiring the Ordinary to notify the government of the establishment of such communities (art. 13). In cases where the authorities were to bring charges against clerics due to activities contrary to public order or the security of the state, the Ordinary would consider the case. If the individual was found guilty, the Ordinary would apply necessary measures (art. 20). This provision eliminated the committee established in Proposal 2 (art. 22) in the case of disagreement between the government and the prelate. Felici indicated to Gasparri that he saw no problem in this wording, as the judgment of the cleric was reserved to the ecclesiastic authority. It is notable that the nuncio’s counterproposal maintains the intention of the Chilean government for prior notification before the appointment of archbishops and bishops, although it was established that the objections that may be raised to any candidates may only be of a political nature. The procedure for any such objections was modified. The government would have one month to formulate any objection from the date of consultation, and the Holy See would take this into account and investigate the matter. If the month passed without the government raising submitting any objections, the Holy See would proceed with the appointment (art. 14). In his letter to Gasparri, Felici stated that this provision was not unreasonable, as it reduced the objections to only those of a political nature and had been permitted in other concordats. Felici neglected to consider, however, how this measure had worked in countries such as Lithuania where concordats had been signed. Moreover, the nuncio added that he understood that this power, more than a concession, was in fact “a providential obstacle”49 to 49. “Una remora providenziale.” Vatican, fasc. 47, fol. 46. CARLOS SALINAS ARANEDA 119 any interference that the government might attempt, justly or unjustly, in dioceses, as it limited the field of objection and reserved the right to make decisions without appeal to the Holy See. Since this prior notification was maintained, Felici also kept the civil oath with the same formulation (Proposal 2, art. 15), for which the nuncio saw “no problem,”50 although this oath had not been in place for the two prelates appointed after the new constitution entered into force, without any formal protest from the Chilean government. In addition to articles that directly referred to ecclesiastical individuals, there are some issues in Proposal 2 that the nuncio retained. This happened, for example, in the case of exemption from military service for all priests and ecclesiastical personnel involved in the functioning of dioceses, seminaries, and Catholic schools (art. 8, para. 3). With regard to marriage, Felici plainly stated that marriages celebrated in accordance with Chilean law by ministers of the Catholic faith would have civil validity—a step that the Chilean government had not wished to take. Moreover, baptisms administered by these clergy would have the same effect as birth registrations at the Civil Registry Office, providing that the official from the respective district was notified. Thus, Catholic clergy would be obliged to notify the appropriate official at the Civil Registry Office of all marriages and baptisms, within a timeframe and following a procedure determined by the Chilean government in accordance with the appropriate ecclesiastical authority (art. 11). In his letter to Gasparri, Felici stated that he understood this provision as a way to collaborate with the state in the improvement of demographic statistics. Furthermore, the proposed solution seemed to him to be “really excellent,”51 as it reconciled the reasonable demand of the state with the absolute liberty of the Church in administering both sacraments. Thus, by recognizing the civil purpose of religious marriage, it offered a basis for protesting, in the name of the concordat, against a possible future proposal on divorce. As Pius XI was the pope of Catholic Action, Felici decided to add a new article by which the state ensured the complete liberty of associations that formed part of Catholic Action and were under the authority of Ordinaries (art. 21). He believed that this provision was important in a bilateral 50. “Non veggo inconvenienti.” Ibid. 51. “La soluzione mi pare veramente geniale.” Vatican, fasc. 47, fol. 45. 120 EFFORTS TO SIGN A CONCORDAT BETWEEN CHILE AND THE HOLY SEE agreement, given the attitude of the German and Italian governments toward Catholic associations. Further, Felici extended the exemption from payment of property tax for assets used to maintain charitable institutions (art. 4). With regard to religious education, it was added that this would figure in the curricula of all the state’s primary, secondary, and special education establishments. It was expressly stated that it would be mandatory for all students, unless their parents or guardians expressed in writing the desire for their children not to receive these classes. This obligation did not appear in Proposals 1 and 2. It also added that the texts and the teaching program would be set by the ecclesiastical authority (art. 16). Another addition was the timeframe of the concordat, which Felici extended to fifty years, instead of the ten years proposed by the Chilean government (art. 27). He omitted the city where the ratification would take place (art. 26). The remainder of the articles contained in Proposal 2 appeared in Felici’s Proposal 3, with some revision. It is notable that one of the articles in Proposal 2 that remained in the counterproposal was the one that limited the access of foreigners to parochial benefits, except when expressly authorized by the government (art. 19). Felici also saw no problem in maintaining this article, as it was a “relatively rare”52 situation, and it would not be difficult to obtain prior authorization for foreign priests, when necessary turning “to the friendly intervention of the respective ministers.”53 Felici retained the article mandating that bishops of Chilean dioceses had to reside within the country, as he understood that resolving the situation of Tacna and Arica was of “enormous importance”54 to the Chilean government. The Fate of the Proposals Once Subercaseaux had delivered the first of the proposals, Gasparri met with the pope, and a pro memoria was written. This text showed that Gasparri had examined Proposal 1, had spoken of it with the pope, and highlighted that the government made few concessions while asking for many things. This pro memoria adds that the pope told the cardinal to respond with the following words: “the concordat proposed in this manner 52. “Ha una applicazione relativamente rara.” Vatican, fasc. 47, fol. 46. 53. “Ricorrendo, ove occorra, all’amichevole intervento dei rispettivi Ministri.” Ibid. 54. “Enorme importanza.” Ibid. CARLOS SALINAS ARANEDA 121 appears inopportune to the Holy See. We can continue to live without a concordat.” The pope added that this statement should be made tactfully.55 The pope’s words became prophetic; none of the three proposals for a concordat was ever signed, partially because of the pope’s position on the matter and partially because of the insistence of the Chilean government on its own proposals. The issue of public versus private law for the Catholic Church in Chile was settled, placing the Church under public law, and relations between the Holy See and Chile continued to develop in a climate of mutual cordiality. 55. “Ho esaminato il testo e l’ho riferito al Santo Padre: il governo non accorda niente o quasi niente; mentre domanda moltissime cose, non ostante il regime di separazione. Il Santo Padre mi ha detto di rispondere con le seguenti parole que mi ha dettate: ‘Cosi impostato il concordato non si vede per la Santa Sede l’opportunitá di farlo. Possiamo tirare innanzi senza concordato’. Il Santo Padre ha aggiunto che questo si debe dire per buona tattica.” Vatican, fasc. 47, fol. 28. Doing It Rite: Specialized Catholic Action and Liturgical Renewal in Quebec, 1 9 3 0 s– 1 9 6 0 s INDRE CUPLINSKAS* This investigation of the intersection of Specialized Catholic Action and liturgical renewal in Quebec from the 1930s to the early 1960s analyzes the theological foundations of liturgical renewal and explores the ways in which these ideas were communicated and received. What emerges is an important source for Catholic Action spirituality that complements influences such as personalist thought, yet it is too often overlooked in scholarship on Quebec. Liturgical renewal was shared with other segments of the Church in Quebec, was actively encouraged by the hierarchy, and embodied the connection between activities internal to the Church and the Church’s role in society. Keywords: Catholic Action, Quebec, liturgical movement, mystical body, sacrifice F or five days in June, 1938 300,000 people gathered in Quebec City to participate in the first National Eucharistic Congress in Canada.1 One highlight of the event was the production of the French playwright Henri Ghéon’s La Mystère de la Messe. A meditation on the relationship of parts of the Mass to aspects of salvation, the play did not try to hide its pedagogical intent: a choir of ignorant people clamored for a better understanding of the Mass. Spectators learned that the Eucharistic liturgy was part of a larger drama between God and humanity. A particular highlight was the section on the offertory, when representatives of various vocational groups such as traditional harvesters, grape-pickers, factory workers, sales clerks, and students offered up the fruits of their labors. *Dr. Cuplinskas is an assistant professor at St. Joseph’s College, University of Alberta, in Edmonton, Canada, email: indre.cuplinskas@ualberta.ca. The author is grateful to research assistants G. Zucchi and M. Calletta. Unless otherwise noted, the author has provided the translations in this article. 1. Congrès Eucharistique national de Québec, 22 au 26 juin 1938. Compte rendu officiel (Quebec, 1939), p. 194. 122 INDRE CUPLINSKAS 123 In conjunction with this pedagogical play on the theological meaning of the Mass, Congress participants attended Masses themselves. The event commenced with a pontifical Mass, men attended a midnight Mass, and a dialogue Mass for youth represented the most novel innovation. As in the play, the Mass highlighted the offertory, with youth offering their labors as a continuation of redemption.2 Capping off the Congress was a triumphant procession led by papal zouaves, followed by representatives of an array of youth organizations and pious lay associations such as the League of the Sacred Heart. Clergy came just ahead of the Blessed Sacrament, followed by prelates. Behind them were notables from secular institutions and the laity. Here was a dramatic performance of mid-twentieth-century Catholic ecclesiological ideals: a hierarchical Church in orderly and united movement, unified around the Eucharist and a display of its faith in the public square and reinforced by the visible participation of secular authority. Prominent throughout were youth from the various organizations in Specialized Catholic Action (SCA): Jeunesse ouvrière catholique (JOC, or Young Catholic Workers), Jeunesse étudiante catholique (JEC, or Young Catholic Students), Jeunesse agricole catholique (JAC, or Young Catholic Rural Workers), and Jeunesse indépendente catholique (JIC, or Young Catholic Independent Workers). All newcomers on the ecclesial scene in Quebec, they helped organize the Congress, marched in the procession, responded to the clergy in the dialogue Mass, and acted in the production of the Mystère de la Messe.3 These SCA members exemplify the issue at the center of this article: the intersection between SCA in Quebec and liturgical renewal, particularly the way in which theological sources informed the spirituality of young SCA laypeople from the 1930s to the early 1960s. Historians of SCA in Quebec have underscored the influence of French personalism on these new youth organizations. E.-Martin Meunier has written about the role of personalism in Quebec and has argued that a personalist ethic shaped the changes in the Catholic Church in the twentieth century. This embodies a shift from a post-Tridentine focus on the sinful condition of humanity, an immutable natural order, and a representation of the clergy as mediators of the spiritual to a Catholicism that privileges the engaged and 2. Congrès Eucharistique national, p. 167. 3. For an overview of Eucharistic Congresses in Quebec that notes these events as promotional tools for Catholic Action, see Brigittte Caulier, “Reconquérir le monde moderne par l’eucharistie,” Liturgie, foi et culture, 40 (2006), 13–20. 124 DOING IT RITE authentic person, emphasizes historical change, and acknowledges and even encourages the engagement of the laity.4 The centrality of this personalist ethic on Quebec SCA has been further investigated by Michael Gauvreau.5 Proponents of liturgical renewal could be found both espousing the post-Tridentine ethos and the personalist one. The influence of the liturgical movement on SCA, however, has only been mentioned in passing.6 Rather, scholars have studied these movements in Quebec from a sociological perspective: as organizations that facilitated the formation of youth as a social class active in the public sphere7 and as organizations that provided experience in leadership and organization to future political leaders of Quebec.8 Many young men and women active in SCA in the 1940s and 1950s became key figures in Quebec’s political and cultural life during and after the Quiet Revolution. Consequently, scholars also have been intrigued by the roles played by these SCA members in the rapid secularization of Quebec in the 1960s.9 Yet in texts published in the 1930s, 1940s, and 1950s on Catholic Action and the liturgy, author after author argued for the necessary connection between these two currents in the Catholic Church.10 They insisted that active, conscious, and efficacious liturgy vivified Catholic Action. Thus, it is important to include the influence of liturgical renewal 4. E.-Martin Meunier, Le pari personnaliste: Modernité et catholicisme au XXe siècle (Montreal, 2007). See also E.-Martin Meunier and Jean-Philippe Warren, Sortir de la grande noirceur: l’horizon personnaliste de la Révolution tranquille (Sillery, Canada, 2002). 5. Michael Gauvreau, The Catholic Origins of Quebec’s Quiet Revolution (Montreal, 2005). 6. References to liturgical issues are found in these studies of SCA: Lucie Piché, Femmes et changement social au Québec: l’apport de la Jeunesse ouvrière catholique féminine, 1931– 1966 (Quebec, 2003), pp. 42–44; Gabriel Clément, Histoire de l’Action catholique au Canada français, [Commission d’études sur les laïcs et l’Eglise, 2], (Montreal, 1972), pp. 101, 228; Gauvreau, Catholic Origins, pp. 65, 161, 166. 7. Louise Bienvenue, Quand la jeunesse entre en scène: L’Action catholique avant la Révolution tranquille (Montreal, 2003). 8. Bernard Fournier, Mouvements de jeunes et socialisation politique: la dynamique de la J.E.C. à l’époque de Gérard Pelletier (Quebec, 1989). 9. André J. Bélanger, Ruptures et constantes: quatre idéologies du Québec en éclatement: La Relève, la JEC, Cité libre, Parti pris (Montreal, 1977); Michael D. Behiels, Prelude to Quebec’s Quiet Revolution: Liberalism versus Neo-Nationalism, 1945–1960 (Montreal, 1985); Gauvreau, Catholic Origins. 10. Examples from Europe, the United States, and Canada include Gaspar Lefebvre, Liturgie et Action Catholique (Paris, 1938); Ernest Koenker, The Liturgical Renaissance in the Roman Catholic Church (Chicago, 1954); Raoul Hamel, “Action liturgique et action catholique,” Cahiers d’Action Catholique (hereafter CAC), 86 (1947), 51–56, here 51; Maurice Lafond, “A la source d’un renouveau chrétien,” CAC, 18 (1942), 311–12; Paul-H. Carignan, “Comment l’on fabriquait un chrétien,” CAC, 91 (1948), 315–20, here 315; Paul-H. Carignan, “Vie liturgique (1),” CAC, 98 (1948), 55–57, here 55. INDRE CUPLINSKAS 125 so that the spirituality that shaped SCA in Quebec can be understood fully. Liturgical renewal promoted ideals of the personalist ethos such as lay social engagement, while insisting on more traditional values such as sacrifice. In addition, this intersection of lay movements and liturgy was fraught with tensions. Any discussion of participants’ roles in liturgy touched upon lay-clergy relations. In liturgical renewal, these relations were negotiated provocatively on traditionally clerical terrain. A rethinking of the Church’s central cultic act also had implications for the Church’s vision of its place in society.11 The Liturgical Movement Presiding over the ecclesial spectacle of the 1938 Eucharistic Congress in Quebec City was Cardinal Jean-Marie-Rodrigue Villeneuve, O.M.I., archbishop of Quebec (see figure 1). Echoing many ideas proposed by Ernest Lemieux, professor at the Grande Séminaire in Quebec, Villeneuve served as an authoritative mouthpiece and advocate for liturgical renewal.12 A year before the Congress, Villeneuve had published Entretiens liturgiques, a collection of pastoral retreat talks that he had delivered on liturgical matters the previous summer. This publication provides insight into the view of the liturgy in Quebec in the second half of the 1930s. The introductory chapter captures Villeneuve’s primary concerns. First, good liturgy taught participants about the hierarchical order of society, whereas various liturgical rules prepared people to accept the regulations required by a proper moral and social life. Second, Catholics in Quebec needed to revive a real liturgical sense that would counter the bad taste of florid music, excessive floral arrangements, and electric lightbulbs found in churches across the province.13 In short, good liturgy expressed unity, hierarchy, and sacred beauty.14 Even outside of Quebec, the cardinal was a respected figure in the early years of the liturgical movement. When he passed away in 1947, Orate Fratres, the leading journal of liturgical renewal in the United States, 11. In the United States in particular, liturgical renewal was intimately linked with social justice. Keith F. Pecklers, The Unread Vision: The Liturgical Movement in the United States of America, 1926–1955 (Collegeville, MN, 1998), pp. 124–49. 12. Gilles Routhier suggests that Villeneuve’s Entretiens liturgiques was influenced by Lemieux’s wide-ranging proposals for liturgical renewal in Quebec. See Routhier, “Les avents de la constitution sur la liturgie au Canada francophone,” Questions Liturgiques, 87 (2006), 233–63, here 235–37. 13. Villeneuve, Entretiens liturgiques (Quebec, 1937), pp. 7–10. 14. Villeneuve, Entretiens liturgiques, p. 17. 126 DOING IT RITE FIGURE 1. Cardinal Jean-Marie-Rodrigue Villeneuve, O.M.I., archbishop of Quebec. Portrait by Michel Braidy (France). Photo by Dachowski Photography, 2013. Original conserved by the Musée de la civilisation/Collection Archevêché de Québec. Reproduced by permission of the Archives of the Archdiocese of Quebec. mourned the loss of an “eminent friend and leader.”15 Villeneuve’s concern for liturgy, music, and the liturgical year were part of the transnational liturgical movement that was rooted in late-nineteenth century initiatives in France to revive Gregorian chant. These efforts gained hierarchical backing in 1903 with Pope Pius X’s motu proprio Tra le sollecitudini on the renewal and reform of liturgical music. The movement originated in monasteries and other centers in Germany, Belgium, and France. Its promoters focused on the reintroduction of Gregorian chant, on active participation of the laity in worship through singing, and on a better understanding of the Mass through a diligent following of the liturgy in bilingual missals and, in what was particularly common among youth movements, dialogue Masses. When Villeneuve penned his Entretiens liturgiques, liturgical renewal was still in its early days in Quebec, although particularly fruitful and active in his archdiocese.16 15. “Liturgical Briefs,” Orate Fratres, 21, no. 3 (1947), 140. 16. On the liturgical movement in Quebec, see Claude Ryan, “Les laïcs et la vie liturgique au Canada,” Revue eucharistique du clergé, 58 (1955), 47–48, here 51; Jean Hamelin, INDRE CUPLINSKAS 127 Specialized Catholic Action in Quebec Paralleling the rise of liturgical renewal was the growth of Catholic Action—a large family of lay movements that flourished in the first half of the twentieth century. In supporting these movements, the hierarchy hoped that Catholic Action would act as its instrument, bringing Christian influence to spheres of life that the clergy no longer accessed. Employing language of conquest and reconquest, Catholic Action groups aspired to nothing less than re-Christianizing society. In the 1920s, the Belgian priest Joseph Cardijn (1882–1967) introduced an important variation into Catholic Action by bringing together youth according to their vocations, so that they would become apostles to their peers. He began by organizing working youth into the Jeunesse ouvrière chrétienne—the Young Christian Workers. Introducing a novel methodology, Cardijn trained his young apprentices to see, judge, and act—to analyze their social milieu, judge it from a Christian perspective, and perform concrete actions that would change the environment in which they worked. This focus on vocational groups and a new methodology became the hallmarks of SCA. Cardijn’s model spread. Youths from other walks of life—students, agricultural laborers, and maritime workers—were organized along similar lines. These movements expanded to other European countries and beyond. JOC took root in Canada in 1927.17 It is these SCA groups in French-speaking Canada—especially JEC, the largest and most influential entity—that are the focus of this study.18 Both liturgical renewal and Catholic Action need to be placed in the larger context of a centralized and totalizing vision of reality promoted by the church magisterium from the second half of the nineteenth century to the middle of the twentieth.19 Besides the mobilization of the laity and Histoire du catholicisme québécois: XX e siècle (Saint-Laurent, Canada, 1984) 2:62–68, 216–23; Christine Laflèche and Gilles Routhier, “Le mouvement liturgique au Québec: attentes et espérances de l’aggiornamento conciliare,” in Vatican II au Canada: enracinement et réception, ed. Gilles Routhier (Montreal, 2001), pp. 129–62, here p. 146; Routhier, “Les avents de la Constitution sur la Liturgie,” pp. 233–62. All underscore the central role played by SCA in the popularization of liturgical renewal. 17. Bienvenue, Quand la jeunesse, p. 53. 18. In 1953 JEC had 17,320 members, JOC had 3927 members, JAC had 3488 members, and JIC had 776 members. Hamelin, Le XXe siècle, 2:126. 19. Joseph A. Komonchak, “Modernity and the Construction of Roman Catholicism,” Cristianismo nella Storia, 18 (1997), 353–85; Staf Hellemans, “Is There a Future for Catholic Social Teaching after the Waning of Ultramontane Mass Catholicism?”, in Catholic Social 128 DOING IT RITE liturgical renewal, other pillars of this modern Catholicism were Catholic social teaching and the dominance of neo-Scholasticism in educational institutions. Through the lens of this totalizing vision, members of SCA often referred to the world around them as pagan—an umbrella term that encompassed atheism, fascism, communism, and even a bourgeois worldview—indicating that the threats perceived by SCA militants were not just philosophical or economic, but had religious and ritual aspects. Consequently, it made sense for SCA organizations to use the liturgy as one of their weapons in the ideological battle they faced.20 Scholars have been paying increasing attention to this link between liturgy and a particular vision of the Church in society. In a comprehensive study of the relationship between liturgical reform and the Church’s place in society, Maria Paiano argues that liturgy is more than an internal ecclesial activity; rather, it must be viewed as a performance that conveys a particular understanding of and relationship to the wider world.21 In a similar vein, Joseph Chinnici analyzes prayer as “social code,” noting that changes in Catholic prayer life . . . clearly occurred in symbiotic relationship with the Church’s mutating presence in society. Broader political, economic and social definitions of what it meant to be a . . . [citizen] . . . and Catholic may have shaped the pattern of prayer as much as did particular theological positions of the Church.22 In an overview of the preconciliar liturgical movement in Quebec, Laflèche and Routhier also suggest that SCA participation in the liturgy had as much to do with intra-ecclesial concerns with aesthetics and liturgy, as well as a shifting social order, in which Quebecois were renegotiating their place in the political and social sphere.23 This investigation analyzes the theological foundations of liturgical renewal in SCA and explores the ways in which these ideas were communicated and received. What emerges is an important source for SCA spirituality that often is overlooked and freThought: Twilight or Renaissance?, ed. Jonathan Boswell, Francis P. McHugh, and Johan Verstraeten (Leuven, 2000), pp. 13–34. 20. Dominique Martel, “Savons-nous nos forces?” JEC, 4 (1937), 4; Guy Cormier, “Lettre ouverte au directeur,” JEC, 5 (1946), 3; J.F., “Une autre année sera meilleure, si nous réunissons à sortir de là,” Vie Etudiante (hereafter VE), 3 (1952), 2. 21. Maria Paiano, Liturgia e Società nel novecento: Percorsi del movimento liturgico di fronte ai processi de secolarizzazione (Rome, 2000). 22. Joseph P. Chinnici, “The Catholic Community at Prayer, 1926–1976,” in Habits of Devotion: Catholic Religious Practice in Twentieth-Century America, ed. James M. O’Toole (Ithaca, NY, 2004), pp. 9–87, here p. 17. 23. Laflèche and Routhier, “Le mouvement liturgique au Québec,” pp. 146–47. INDRE CUPLINSKAS 129 quently intersects with influences such as personalist thought. Moreover, liturgical renewal was shared with other segments of the Church in Quebec as a measure actively encouraged by the hierarchy and—unlike other sources—an embodiment of the connection between activities internal to the Church and the Church’s role in society. Background: The Duplessis Era The heyday of SCA in Quebec from the 1930s through the 1950s corresponds to the terms of provincial premier Maurice Duplessis (1936–39, 1944–59), a period framed by the depression at one end and Quebec’s Quiet Revolution at the other and transected by the war. In summer 1938, Duplessis gave a rousing speech at the Eucharistic Congress, connecting Quebec’s social vision to Christianity, not liberal democracy, and asserting that the charter for humanity was rooted in the Gospel of Christ rather than principles such as liberty, equality, and fraternity.24 He finished by presenting Villeneuve with a ring, which the cardinal took as a sign of the “union of religious authority and civil authority.”25 This exchange reflected the sentiments of many in Quebec regarding the relationship between the Church and the provincial government. Over the next twenty years, however, the opposition grew against Duplessis, driven in large part by veteran SCA militants. They labeled the era “la Grand Noirceur”—the Great Darkness—a socially and economically conservative era dominated by a clerico-nationalist agenda. Despite this negative label,26 the period was not one of stagnation, particularly in the Church. The Catholic Church was confident: it had some of the highest numbers of lay participation of the period and boasted a ratio of clergy to laypeople that few other Western societies could match.27 Clergy and religious operated schools, universities, hospitals, and other social agencies. At the same time there were sectors of the Church that called for revitalization and reform, and from the 1930s onward there 24. Congrès eucharistique, p. 68. 25. “Cet anneau marque l’union, —Dieu en soit loué, —de l’autorité religieuse et de l’autorité civile.” Emphasis in the original title. Congrès eucharistique, p. 69. See also Guy Laperrière, “Le congrès eucharistique de Montréal en 1910: une affirmation du catholicisme montréalais,” Études d’histoire religieuse, 77 (2011), 21–39, here 38–39. 26. For reassessments of the era, see Duplessis: Son milieu, son époque, ed. Xavier Gélinas and Lucia Ferretti (Quebec, 2010), 27. In 1932, there was one priest for every 603 Catholics, whereas in 1962 the ratio improved to one priest for every 586 Catholics. Hamelin, Le XXe siècle, 2:162. 130 DOING IT RITE were those who identified a growing malaise in the culture of French Canadian Catholics.28 Quebec was modernizing, with more people moving to the cities and industrialization continuing apace. Youth, especially girls, had increasing access to education. The Quebecois adopted new kinds of popular communal experiences: they went to the movies, listened to rock and roll, and by the 1950s, gathered around the family television. In the postwar years, encouraged by advertisers, they eagerly embraced new consumer goods. The identities of youth, women, and families were undergoing changes, which Gauvreau argues were, in fact, mediated by the Catholicism espoused by SCA. These Catholic organizations convinced young people to see themselves as a social group charged with bringing about change. Women in SCA groups embraced feminist values that underscored their agency and personhood.29 They shifted their focus from producing the largest possible family to one in which affectionate relationships were more valued than the number of offspring. This, in turn, changed families’ view of themselves, shifting from a perception as an economic entity to one of a nuclear unit bound by ties of affection. Such far-reaching transformations had a common impetus. Gauvreau contends that the SCA movements of the depression era introduced the all-important hermeneutic of rupture with the past that required “an entirely new framework of personal, familial and social identities.”30 In fact, he goes on to assert that the young men active in the SCA movements in the depression era formed the nucleus of a male intellectual elite in the 1950s, which rejected many of the changes occurring among youth, women, and families. In the author’s view, “[i]n the name of rendering Catholicism and modern values synonymous, this group of intellectuals instead turned the language of SCA into an aggressive, male-centered spiritual elitism that was profoundly contemptuous of popular religious practice in Quebec.”31 For Gauvreau, French personalism is the main source for this disdain, but any familiarity with the premises of liturgical renewal and its concomitant criticism of an earlier generation’s devotional life suggests that a similar criticism of popular religious practice was present in the calls for liturgical renewal. 28. See, for example, Claude Ryan, “Un document: sur l’Église canadienne en devenir,” VE, 12 (1954), 7, 12. 29. Gauvreau, Catholic Origins, pp. 175–246. 30. Ibid., p. 354. 31. Although Gauvreau discusses spirituality in general, he does not include a sustained analysis of liturgical renewal. Ibid., p. 355. INDRE CUPLINSKAS 131 Liturgical Renewal: Key Theological Concepts The ideas about liturgical renewal circulating in SCA in Quebec were derivative. Chaplains, religious brothers, and religious sisters who served as assistants to local SCA groups and as teachers transmitted ideas developed by theologians in France, Belgium, and Germany to SCA activists. Most of the sources for this study are prescriptive ones, penned by adult mediators of liturgical renewal in journals such as Cahiers d’Action Catholique (CAC), which was a forum for adult SCA leaders, particularly for JEC. They expounded key concepts of liturgical renewal and discussed how to communicate them to SCA members. In two decades, CAC proved to be particularly prolific, publishing roughly 100 articles that dealt with liturgical renewal. For other Catholic journals that reached a broader audience, such as the Relations published by the Society of Jesus and the Revue Dominicaine published by the Order of Preachers, liturgical renewal was much more peripheral. The two publications together issued fewer than two dozen articles.32 On the other hand, the Canons regular of the Immaculate Conception began publishing a journal in 1956, Liturgie et vie chrétienne, which placed liturgical renewal at the center of its concerns. Active participation was the battle cry of the liturgical movement in the mid-twentieth century, manifested especially through missals and dialogue Masses. But these external activities grew out of a series of intertwined theological concepts that require analysis, because SCA’s prescriptive texts expended much time and effort exploring these theological underpinnings. The cornerstone of active participation was the image of the Mystical Body of Christ, although the royal priesthood of all believers was also a concept of consequence.33 These two ideas set the foundation for the theological core of active participation, which was the oblation and immolation of one’s very self along with Christ’s sacrifice. Participation, the Mystical Body, Eucharist, and sacrifice were linked together regularly in the prescriptive literature aimed both at adult leaders and young militants. 32. Relations had only half a dozen in the 1940s and 1950s, whereas Revue Dominicaine published almost twice as many. For these and other reviews, see Routhier, “Les avents de la Constitution sur la Liturgie,” pp. 155–59. 33. Their importance to liturgical renewal has been noted elsewhere; see, for example, Pecklers, Unread Vision, pp. 29–34; and Debra Campbell, “The Struggle to Serve: From the Lay Apostolate to the Ministry Explosion,” in Transforming Parish Ministry, ed. Jay Dolan, R. Scott Appleby, Patricia Byrne, and Debra Campbell (New York, 1989), pp. 225–28. 132 DOING IT RITE The Mystical Body of Christ The image of the Church as the Mystical Body of Christ—the fruit of ressourcement by French, Belgian, and German theologians—towered over the ecclesiological landscape of the Catholic Church from the 1930s into the 1960s. Although initially many looked upon it with suspicion, the image brought with it an invigorating novelty.34 Pius XII gave it papal sanction with his encyclical Mystici corporis Christi in 1943, explaining that he was responding to a renewed interest in the liturgy, more frequent Communion, and Catholic Action movements that were “drawing closer the bonds of union between Christians and between them and the ecclesiastical hierarchy . . .”35 In the 1930s SCA movements used the image of the City of God to talk about the social reconstruction that they were pursuing,36 an image that echoed the previous century’s dominant ecclesiological model of the Church as a perfect society.37 Even Villeneuve wrote of the Church as a city, but made no mention of the Mystical Body in Entretiens liturgiques.38 Yet by the 1940s, SCA organizations adopted the Mystical Body—a polyvalent image that provided fertile theological ground for a number of principles prized by these movements.39 First of all, the doctrine underscored the dignity of every Christian who, by virtue of his or her baptism, was incorporated into the very body of Christ. Young laypeople had to be convinced that they were valuable, even indispensable, members of the Church. It is not hard to imagine that this dignity empowered the young—workers and students, many of them women. By describing their charges’ membership in the Church in this new way, clergy, religious, teachers, and even peer leaders hoped to elicit a 34. Pecklers, Unread Vision, p. 32. 35. Pius XII, Mystici corporis Christi, sec. 8, http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/ pius_xii/encyclicals/documents/hf_p-xii_enc_29061943_mystici-corporis-christi_en.html 36. Indre Cuplinskas, “Guns and Rosaries: The Use of Military Imagery in the FrenchCanadian Catholic Student Newspaper JEC,” Historical Studies, 71 (2005), 7–28. 37. Komonchak, “Modernity and the Construction of Roman Catholicism.” 38. Villeneuve, Entretiens liturgiques, p. 7. 39. Gerd-Rainer Horn discusses the importance of the image of the Mystical Body in the nascent SCA movements in Belgium and France in Western European Liberation Theology (1924–1959): The First Wave (Oxford, 2008), pp. 69–75. In 1945–46 the Conseil National d’Action Catholique chose the Mystical Body as the annual theme for all Catholic Action organizations in Quebec. L’Action Catholique Canadienne, Section française, “Rapport Général du Comité National d’Action Catholique pour l’année 1945–46,” September 1946, Services des archives, Université de Montréal, Fonds de L’Action catholique canadienne (hereafter SAUM), P16/B4, 4, 1. INDRE CUPLINSKAS 133 fresh excitement for a Christian identity that was experienced as routine. This dignity was founded less on the possibility of glory through divinization40 and more on the responsibility that accrued to individual Christians, because they were responsible not only for themselves but also for the Body of which they were a part.41 This adult participation to which youth was called introduced a subtle shift in Catholic identity. In a province where 82 percent of the population spoke French, with Catholics composing an overwhelming majority of this number,42 the challenge to ground Catholic identity in adult responsibility made SCA youth view their faith differently. First, the way that the phrase “member of the Mystical Body” was employed rhetorically suggests that it was a novel way to talk about Christian identity. The image of the corpus mysticum did not imply an inherited identity, but, as Sulpician Cardinal Paul-Émile Léger of Montreal reminded students, one that required “personal and conscious adherence.”43 Its mystical and organic aspects contrasted the more institutional and hierarchical image of the societas perfecta. In Villeneuve’s hierarchical vision the laity’s primary responsibility was to listen and learn, whereas with the Mystical Body, young people were encouraged to foster its growth.44 Second, it dislodged Catholicism from an inherited sense of tribal superiority. In his speech at the Eucharistic Congress, Duplessis alluded to the French-Canadians’ special mission as the keepers of the one true Catholic faith in a hostile English Protestant environment, a religiousnationalist vision propagated by the priest-historian Lionel Groulx from the 1920s into the 1940s. The Mystical Body, however, shifted the focus of identity from an embattled minority group to participation in a universal community. The image of the corpus mysticum suited not only a Church that was shifting to a voluntary model requiring the personal adherence of every member but also resonated with the growing number of career paths that were opening up to male and female youth alike. Thus, Claudette Lalonde, 40. Philippe Duchesne, “Récollections sur notre role dans l’Eglise,” CAC, 31 (1943), 329–36. Suggested by Gauvreau, Catholic Origins, p. 29. 41. Jacques Laliberté, “Où en est le Concile du Vatican?” VE, 16 (1961), 10. 42. John Dickinson and Brian Young, A Short History of Quebec, 3rd ed. (Montreal, 2003), p. 274. 43. “L’Église Notre-Dame prise assaut,” VE, 8 (1953), 1. 44. Claude Brodeur, “Les leçons d’un fait-divers,” VE, 7 (1953), 7. 134 DOING IT RITE pondering her future in 1953, rejected social expectations. Lalonde insisted that not all young women wanted to become secretaries, and she, for one, was convinced that she had another vocation for which she hoped her classical education, generally reserved for boys, would prepare her. She was intent on discerning her own special mission in building of the city (cité) and the solid establishment of the Mystical Body.45 For SCA, the Mystical Body conferred dignity and signaled that the core of Christian identity was social, not individual.46 By foregrounding the innate dignity and social nature of human beings, the Mystical Body became an indispensable weapon against the insidious threat of modern individualism, perceived as a problem both by a Church characterized by individualistic piety and by capitalist society.47 A remedy against individualism, the Mystical Body built up community at every level of society. At the local level, a JEC chaplain insisted that the Mystical Body helped to create friendship in schools.48 It also broadened the horizons of Quebecois youth, as they saw themselves as part of a global community. After World War II, SCA militants were encouraged to serve as lay missionaries. In the pages of the JEC student newspaper Vie Étudiante, they read about the exploits of their peers who were expanding the Mystical Body in faraway lands such as Jordan and Central Africa.49 Back in a much more culturally homogeneous Quebec, the Bâtir bulletin, which provided concrete activities for liturgical committees in schools, suggested these groups create posters illustrating the common paternity of humanity and featuring a picture of God the Father at the top: “In the center: a group of heads personifying the students of the school. Around: different groups: Chinese, other students, Negroes, Italians, etc. At the bottom: write: We belong to this family, children of the Father.”50 In this effort to imagine a community as both local and global, the Mystical Body gave SCA members a vocabulary with which to talk about a Christ-centered solidarity that was not limited to the institutional Church. They were more comfortable using the concept of corpus mysticum 45. Claudette Lalonde, “Nous autres, étudiantes dans notre orientation notre difficulté c’est: ‘Ta…ta…ta…ta ma fille!’” VE, 10 (1953), 1, 10. 46. Dominique, “No…ui,” VE, 2 (1951), 3. 47. “Coupable!”, JEC, 3 (1936), 4; Gilmard, “Individualisme ou Solidarité,” JEC, 10 (1936), 4–5, 7; “A la racine de tout: L’individualisme,” VE, 12 (1952), 1. 48. Jean-Marc Chicoine, “La Messe: Affaire de charité,” CAC, 75 (1946), 135–38. 49. Violet Neville, “Au Liban, en Jordanie et en Afrique Centrale: Nous travaillons à planter l’Église,” VE, 5 (1952), 2; see also “Le laïcat missionaire,” VE, 4 (1952), 10. 50. “Bonjour,” Bâtir la cité étudiante, 1 (1951–52), 1–3, here 3. INDRE CUPLINSKAS 135 to imagine a united humanity—one that was influenced by Christianity, but not necessarily under the direct auspices of the hierarchical Church.51 Thus, for example, Vie Étudiante editor Jacques Laliberté found it useful to conjure up the image of the Mystical Body in his discussion of how Canadian students should respond to the growing civil rights movement in the United States.52 A Priesthood of All Believers Although less prominent than the image of the Mystical Body, the royal priesthood of all believers was another important theological concept inherent in liturgical renewal. It directly involved lay-clergy relations, as both priests and laypeople began to circle around the terrain that had been the traditional purview of clergy alone. In retrieving the notion of the royal priesthood, SCA theorists showed how laity shared crucial similarities to the hierarchy, which had so long focused on the difference between the clergy and the laity. Thus, the French Benedictine Gaspar Lefebvre, author of popular missals, made it abundantly clear in his 1938 Liturgie et Action Catholique that despite unity in the Mystical Body, laity were still completely subordinate to clergy who mediated salvation.53 Despite these efforts to shore up priestly authority, parallels drawn between priests and laity could not but cast doubt on the impermeability of the divide between the two orders. Liturgical renewal could edge toward the personalist emphasis on laity as bearers of the sacred. In a plan for a retreat for JEC militants, René Lebel, O.M.I, vividly described the mission of SCA militants as “mini-priests” or “small hosts” consecrated during the Mass.54 They were consecrated on the altar and then sent out among the people, thereby bringing the fruits of this sacrifice into the world. Nevertheless, Lebel maintained the important distinction of the dependency of the laity on the clergy by reminding his readers that the identity of the small hosts was directly linked to the large host, which represented the clergy and was immolated and consumed in the shadows of the altar. Lebel’s attempts at 51. Jean Francoeur, “Les étudiants étrangers vont bientôt nous tendre la main,” VE, 4 (1956), 3; Jean Francoeur, “Avion supersonique et ‘charrette à boeufs,’” VE, 3 (1955), 8. 52. Jacques Laliberté, “Des étudiants noirs luttent pour le droit de s’asseoir,” VE, 17 (1960), 3–4. 53. Gaspar Lefebvre, Liturgie et Action Catholique (Paris, 1938). Excerpts were reprinted in CAC. 54. “Vous êtes en quelques sorte de petits prêtres, de petites hosties, des porte-bon Dieu.” René Lebel, “Récollection pour Militants d’Action catholique,” CAC, 12 (1941), 37– 48, here 43. 136 DOING IT RITE balancing power wielded by laypeople and clergy in the Mass were palpable. Laypeople were now identified with the hosts, yet remained distinct and subordinate to the larger host—the priest. What priest and people now shared, however, was sacrifice. Participation through Sacrifice It was sacrifice that was at the core of active participation in the liturgy. This was repeated constantly, particularly in the prescriptive literature written by and for clergy and religious involved in SCA movements.55 Put succinctly in the theological vocabulary of the day, the laity, as members of the Mystical Body and royal priests, followed the example of Christ who was both high priest and sacrificial lamb. They were to offer their very selves up during the Mass.56 Active singing and responses during the Mass were just outward actions that led to this inward participation. Consequently, Jean-Marc Chicoine, C.S.C., for example, argued that because students did not properly understand sacrifice, they were unable to live authentic Christian lives, which in turn impeded them from a real experience of the Mass.57 In this emphasis on sacrifice, it was not uncommon for SCA militants to be exhorted to immolation, oblation, and holocaust.58 Reiterating Tridentine theology, these technical terms elaborated upon the propitiatory and expiatory sacrifice effected by the Mass. Reading SCA texts in a postconciliar theological climate some sixty or seventy years later, the emphasis on sacrifice is particularly conspicuous, but surprisingly little scholarly attention has been given to it as the theological core of participa55. For example, M. Paul Sirot, “Dans la messe par ses signes,” CAC, 33 (1943), 405– 20; Jean-Marc Chicoine, “Faire la messe,” CAC, 74 (1946), 89–92; Frère Albéric, “Les jeunes étudiants face à la messe,” CAC, 175 (1955), 335–40. 56. For a classic articulation of this, see Gaspar Lefebvre, “Le sacrifice eucharistique et l’Action catholique,” CAC, 30 (1943), 271–72. 57. Chicoine was reflecting on an entire issue of CAC that was devoted to students and the Mass. He identified five ideas that students did not comprehend, namely, the communal aspect of liturgy, importance of the Father to whom sacrifice is offered, redemption that takes place in the present through the sacrifice, participation in the sacrifice that involves offering and immolation, and participation in the sacrifice that is completed by Communion. Significantly, four of the five related to sacrifice. Jean-Marc Chicoine, “Réflexions en marge de la consultation,” CAC, 175 (1955), 362–68. 58. Chicoine, “Réflexions,” pp. 362–68; Frère Albéric, “Les jeunes étudiants à face la messe,” 335–40; Robert Campagna, “Liturgie: Méditation pour le jeudi-saint,” CAC, 184 (1956), 246–52; Lafond, “A la source,” 311–12; Pierre A. Trépanier, “La Messe: C’est mon affaire + Une affaire d’importance + Place de la Messe dans la vie de l’étudiante,” CAC, 123 (1950), 133–36; Jean-Guy Myre, “Liturgie et psychologie de l’adolescence,” CAC, 200 (1960), 258–76. INDRE CUPLINSKAS 137 tion. A closer examination of this theological commonplace reveals that it was used in both traditional and novel ways. Thus, the concepts of Mystical Body and priesthood of all believers, retrieved by ressourcement, brought with them an energizing novelty that had the power to give the laity in general, and SCA militants in particular, a new sense of themselves and their role in sacrifice. This paved the way for shifts in the theology of sacrifice, which were more clearly articulated by theologians after the Second Vatican Council.59 There was no shortage of traditional references to sacrifice that stressed its centrality to religion: Recall the history that you have studied. Think of the Chinese, the Japanese, the Indians, did they not offer sacrifices to their false gods? What did our Redskins of Canada do before departing for war, upon returning from hunting or fishing, before sowing? They offered sacrifices to their Manitous.60 Christ’s sacrifice was explained through the classic theory of atonement, which, when reduced and oversimplified, suggested that one’s personal sacrifice, united to that of Christ, served as a passport to eternal life, either for oneself or other souls in need.61 But in SCA, as with discussions of the Mystical Body, it was the social implications of sacrifice that were important. SCA militants had to participate in a sacrifice that benefited all of society.62 This might seem similar to the vicarious suffering that dominated the spirituality of late-nineteenth-century France, in which stigmatics and others suffered to expiate the sins of an increasingly godless Republic.63 Sacrifice in SCA literature differed, however, from the victim spirituality that grew out of the French expiatory sacrifices and became popular in both Europe and North America during the first half of the 59. For shifts in the understanding of sacrifice after the Second Vatican Council, see Robert J. Daly, Sacrifice Unveiled: The True Meaning of Christian Sacrifice (London, 2009). 60. “Rappelez-vous l’histoire que vous étudiez. Pensez-vous que les Chinois, les Japonais, les Indiens, n’offrent pas de sacrifices à leurs faux dieux? Que faisaient nos Peaux-Rouges du Canada avant de partir en guerre, au retour d’une excursion de chasse ou de pêche, avait de faire leurs semailles? Ils offraient des sacrifices à leurs manitous.” Robert Campagna, “Récollection: La Sainte Messe,” CAC, 172 (1955), 235. 61. See, for example, Chanoine G. Desgagne, “Liturgie et Apostolat des Laïcs,” CAC, 179 (1955), 33–42; Campagna, “Liturgie,” pp. 246–52. 62. Emile Deguire, “La messe au centre de la vie,” CAC, 30 (1943), 241–44. 63. Thomas A. Kselman, Miracles and Prophecies in Nineteenth-Century France (New Brunswick, NJ, 1983), pp. 102–06; Ivan Strenski, Contesting Sacrifice: Religion, Nationalism and Social Thought in France (Chicago, 2002). 138 DOING IT RITE twentieth century because it did not seek out suffering.64 Rather, sacrifice for SCA members was much more modest, accentuating the offering up of one’s daily existence rather than searching for extraordinary experiences of pain. Young people could sacrifice their egoism or individualism in a real attempt to focus on the needs of their family or the wider community.65 For SCA members, sacrifice was thus directed toward social ends and did not valorize extreme pain or suffering. Significantly, too, the place for sacrifice was the liturgy, not, for example, private devotion performed to the Sacred Heart. This paralleled the general trend in JEC of reducing devotional life to the Mass.66 If, in the 1930s and early 1940s, devotions to Mary or prayers during All Souls were highlighted, by the 1950s the focus had shifted to the Eucharist and key holidays such as Christmas and Easter. Offertory SCA literature highlighted the offertory as the entry point for participation in the sacrifice of the Mass. Although there is no evidence of the use of offertory processions, SCA members were encouraged to offer up various parts of their lives and the fruits of their labors spiritually during the Mass. During the 1938 National Eucharistic Congress, SCA members dramatized this offertory in Ghéon’s Mystère de la Messe. Peasants, factory workers, miners, secretaries, businessmen, students, and store clerks offered the tools of their trade.67 During the youth dialogue Mass at the same event jocistes68 offered “… our work as a prayer, for all those who are adrift.”69 Elaborating on the offertory, the newspaper JEC printed a dissonant picture of a paten on which were placed a bottle of soda pop, a teacup, books, and a baseball glove. To reinforce the point of participation, the 64. Paula M. Kane, “‘She offered herself up’: The Victim Soul and Victim Spirituality in Catholicism,” Church History, 71 (2002), 80–119. 65. François Desplanques, “Méditations sur la messe pour nos militants,” CAC, 32 (1943), 381–84; Trépanier, “La Messe,” 133–36; Raymond-Marie Brodeur, “La Messe, route d’espérance,” CAC, 174 (1955), 298–301. 66. Indre Cuplinskas, “From Soldier to Citizen to Prophet: A Study of the Spirituality of the Jeunesse Étudiante Catholique’s Newspaper JEC/Vie Étudiante (1935–1964),” (PhD diss., University of St. Michael’s College, 2006), pp. 62–64, 324–25. 67. Ghéon, Mystère de la Messe (Liège, 1934), section XIV. 68. Common term for JOC militants. 69. “Et notre travail comme une prière, Pour tout ce monde qui dérive.” Congrès Eucharistique national, pp. 167–68. INDRE CUPLINSKAS 139 FIGURE 2. “C’est ça ma vie!”[That’s my life]. JEC, 2 (1936), 5. priest’s hands were supported by those of the student70 (see figure 2). In 1955, a religious sister suggested that the evening prior to Mass, students should pack their “offertory suitcase”—meaning that they should think about what concrete parts of their lives they wanted to offer during the morning Mass.71 These tangible ways of visualizing lay participation in the offertory solidified the link between the Eucharistic sacrifice and the daily lives of youth. In its focus on the everyday and its rejection of excessive pain, the SCA’s rendition of sacrifice reiterated that SCA was seeking sanctity by performing one’s vocation—whether it be that of worker, farmer, or student. 70. See also Pierre-Paul Asselin, “Le militant d’Action catholique dans sa formation personnelle: premier aspect: Le militant et son Chef,” Corps mystique et Action catholique (Montreal, 1946), pp. 23–65, here p. 57. 71. “L’opinion des éducatrices,” CAC, 175 (1955), 346–50. 140 DOING IT RITE Creating Community through Active Liturgy The Mystical Body, the royal priesthood of all believers, and sacrifice were key theological ideas that lay at the foundation of active participation in the liturgy. It did not, however, suffice for SCA militants to understand these theological concepts intellectually. SCA activists were told that the liturgy in which they were participating represented Catholic communal structures and beliefs, and was pivotal in creating the Catholic community both theologically and sociologically. Using youthful jargon, one author explained that the Mass was a “matter of the gang.”72 Theologically, of course, participants in a Mass were united to Christ and the entire Catholic community through prayer and the reception of the Eucharist. SCA activists, however, were encouraged to go beyond this point and create a sociological sense of community with participants in the Mass: “A student community at the Mass, this is not some number of individuals who are indifferent or hostile to one another. They are there to restore fraternity.”73 Active participation was supposed to create tangible community, not just a supernatural sense of kinship with other members of the Mystical Body. One could no longer simply attend a Mass: the liturgy was now a time of active effort. Besides singing and responding, jécistes,74 jocistes, and others were challenged to offer themselves up as an oblation, to be conscious members of the Mystical Body of Christ, and to build up a tangible community during the Mass. Putting Liturgical Theory into Practice It was in the controlled environment of the schools, where religion was part of the curriculum, days were punctuated by various liturgical practices, and chaplains and teachers were onsite, that the most thorough liturgical education could take place. Thus, it is no surprise that the student newspaper JEC/Vie Étudiante considered liturgical topics more often than the workers’ Jeunesse Ouvrière and that religious educators were more actively engaged in discussions about explaining the readings of the Mass or the liturgical year. Jocistes had the less enviable task of convincing their peers to attend Sunday Mass, because surveys suggested that only 40 percent of young workers did so.75 Many schools were boarding facilities, in 72. “La messe et nous,” Conquèrants, 9 (1942–43), 35. 73. “Une communauté d’étudiants à la messe, ce n’est pas un nombre quelconque d’individus indifférents ou hostiles. Ils sont là pour se refaire des âmes fraternels.” Jean-Marc Chicoine, “La messe: mystère d’unité,” CAC, 80 (1947), 351–54, here 353. 74. Common term for JEC militants. 75. Piché, Femmes et changement, p. 242. INDRE CUPLINSKAS 141 which there already was an active liturgical schedule. In a girls’ boarding school in Cap-de-la-Madeleine, students in 1950 could attended Mass at 6:30 every morning and were obliged to visit the Blessed Sacrament for fifteen minutes in the afternoon and pray the rosary.76 With such a liturgical infrastructure in place, it is not surprising that emphasis on liturgical renewal was so pronounced in the JEC movement.77 Armed with these theological ideals, proponents of liturgical renewal in SCA faced the challenge of convincing members to take active part in the liturgy. Aware of the polyvalent character of the liturgy, they were confident that more conscious participation could be encouraged by explaining the different layers and meanings of the Mass. Rooted in a Catholic culture shaped by the neo-Scholastic privileging of the intellect, proponents of liturgical reform assumed that intellectual understanding rather than performance disclosed the meaning of the liturgy. Because the meaning of gestures was considered static, it sufficed to explain their significance to students, for example, so they could understand and embrace liturgical renewal. Most members of JOC, JEC, JAC, and JIC were armed with bilingual missals in which they followed the text of the Mass closely. In the 1942–43 campaign on the Mass, jécistes were to observe their peers’ use of missals, urge their classmates to purchase one, and request their teachers to explain its use.78 If the situation permitted, youth participated in dialogue Masses. Another popular educational tactic was the “white Mass” that did not have consecration, but explained parts of the Mass.79 With their captive audience and structured environment, schools were the sites of additional educational activities. Adult SCA leaders suggested that teachers permeate the entire curriculum with liturgical themes. In math class, for example, students could solve the following problem: “On 8 December 1914, Jean-Louis attended his first Mass. He died 10 years later. How many times did he attend Mass, if he assisted three times a week?”80 76. Nadia Fahmy-Eid, “Vivre au pensionnat: le cadre de vie des couventines,” in Les Couventines: L’éducation des filles au Québec dans des congrégations enseignantes 1840–1960, ed. Michelle Dumont and Nadia Fahmy-Eid (Saint-Laurent, Canada, 1986), pp. 47–66, p. 53. 77. On liturgical renewal in organizations that fostered intense communal life, see Gerhard Rouwhorst, “In Search of Vital Liturgical Communities: The Liturgical Movement Considered from a Social Anthropological Perspective,” Worship, 84 (2010), 137–53. 78. “La messe et nous,” Conquérants, 9 (1942–43), 21–23. 79. Piché, Femmes et changement, p. 244. 80. “Le 8 décembre 1914, Jean-Louis entendait sa première messe. Il est mort 10 ans plus tard. Combien de fois a-t-il entendu la messe, s’il y assistait 3 fois par semaine?”: “Travaux de classe,” CAC, 32 (1943), 359–73, here 362. 142 DOING IT RITE During the 1940s and early 1950s, JEC spawned numerous services, which included credit unions, cooperatives, and cinema clubs. After its 1942–43 campaign on the Mass,81 JEC also created the service of liturgy committees,82 aiming to establish them in every school so students could learn about the Mass through liturgical games, fora, personal witness, and poster campaigns.83 The posters could parse the liturgical year or illustrate the social benefits of liturgical life by suggesting that students direct their Lenten sacrifices to benefit a different country every week of Lent.84 A 1953 review of the status of liturgical committees in girls’ educational institutions in Quebec showed that although their distribution was uneven, these committees were quite common. In the Archdiocese of Montreal, for example, most schools had one.85 The efficacy of these committees was nevertheless questioned: the writer of the report bemoaned that often the blind were leading the blind. Despite their enthusiasm, committee members rarely had a sufficient understanding of the liturgy or readings to convey the meaning effectively.86 Outside of the schools, JEC began to organize liturgy camps, using the increasing popularity of summer camps to promote the intense study of SCA initiatives. From 1944 to 1953 JEC organized camps that focused on areas such as art, the organization of cooperatives, cinema, and newspaper publication. Topics such as newspapers drew enough interest that separate camps were organized every summer for both male and female students. For six of the ten summers there were liturgy camps. Of these, five were camps for girls, and only one was for boys.87 An account of the liturgical camp in 1947 with fifty-four female participants reveals that during the summer, the SCA militants could learn about liturgy experientially in an outdoor environment. Thus, the girls prefaced an exploration of baptism with a dip in 81. SCA groups focused on the Mass or other liturgy-related topics for their annual campaign. Piché, for example, notes that between 1932 and 1964, the Mass was the focus of the annual religious program seven times; see Femmes et changement, p. 242. 82. Gisèle Bourret, “Action Catholique Canadienne: sous-commission des services: Les services en J.E.C.,” SAUM, P16/G2, 1, 27, p. 7. 83. Quebec, Archives nationales du Québec, Fonds Jeunesse étudiante catholique (hereafter ANQ) P65, S6, SS2, SSS1, D8, “Services et JEC des Jeunes,” 1952–53, Plan du Document, p. 9. 84. “Carême ’51,” Bâtir la cité étudiante, 3 (1950–51), 1–2, here 2. 85. ANQ, P65, S6, SS2, SSS1, D8, “Services et JEC des Jeunes,” 1952–53,” Plan du Document, p. 2. 86. Ibid., p. 3. 87. Jean-Paul Désilets [Fr. Donatien-Marie], “Évolution des structures de la J.E.C. canadienne de 1935 à 1961,” (PhD diss., University of Ottawa), pp. 322–27. INDRE CUPLINSKAS 143 the lake. As they explored the meaning of offertory, they brought up small loaves of bread and some wine, which they then consumed during lunch.88 Reception In true SCA fashion, the campers spent a significant amount of time on the observation of their milieu. They analyzed the reality of liturgical life and prayer at their schools with the hope of improving it. These kinds of analyses provide a glimpse into the level of engagement with the new ideas about liturgy. However, reception is difficult to gauge because advocates of liturgical renewal authored most of the sources, tending to complain that their charges or peers were insufficiently engaged in liturgy. On the other hand, the fact that students did become involved in liturgy committees and that hundreds chose to spend part of their summer attending liturgy camps indicates that the ideals of liturgical renewal did resonate with many student activists, with the available data showing that these were primarily female. Both prescriptive sources and those that reflect on survey results point to problems in reception. An illuminating example is the 1955 issue of CAC devoted entirely to the topic of students and the Mass; it featured the results of student surveys on their understanding and experience of the Mass as well as observations and analysis by teachers. Frère Albéric, S.G., director of the Académie Ste-Rose, summarized the major concerns succinctly: students regarded Mass as a private, obligatory, and routine affair.89 This assessment was a serious blow to proponents of liturgical renewal, who emphasized the communal, free, and vivifying aspects of the Mass. From its earliest days, the transnational liturgical movement attacked what it perceived to be a pernicious but prevalent attitude to the Mass—the tendency to see it as an individual act that aimed to achieve private and personal gains. SCA liturgical activists were no different, but their criticism was more implicit. Exhortatory material encouraged a social understanding of the Mass, which presumed that an individualistic attitude was prevalent. The reasons for this attitude were rarely explained, as the assumption was that this individualism pervaded liturgical practice in Quebec. In 1961, however, Jean-Guy Myre analyzed the same symptom psychologically rather than attributing it to flawed liturgical practices of 88. L. Gaudry and D. Tessier, “Un camp de Liturgie (1),” CAC, 78 (1947), 279–84, here 279; L. Gaudry and D. Tessier, “Un camp de Liturgie (2),” CAC, 79 (1947), 321–26, here 321. 89. Frère Albéric, “Les jeunes étudiants face à la messe,” pp. 335–40. 144 DOING IT RITE earlier generations. For Myre, adolescents found it difficult to embrace the communal aspects of the Mass because they were preoccupied with their development as individuals, not because they were influenced by individualistic attitudes of their parents toward devotions.90 In 1955, however, teachers regarded the matter as a bad habit that needed to be unlearned. The 1955 surveys also suggested that, not surprisingly, students attended Mass out of obligation, not because they freely chose to do so. In a highly regulated environment of the schools, this was to be expected. SCA was aiming for an elusive ideal in the mid-1950s, in which Mass attendance among the Catholic population was still close to 90 percent.91 Liturgical renewal aimed to facilitate the shift to a voluntary Church, but in the mid1950s, tradition and social expectations still shaped most young people. Finally, students perceived the Mass as routine. Liturgical activists hoped to inject awe and interest in an activity that for many was a social convention.92 SCA liturgical activists battled against this sense of routine by trying to reframe the Mass in a novel way—both by using new theological images such as the corpus mysticum, emphasizing the social implications of the Mass, and introducing alternative ways of celebrating the liturgy— especially the use of dialogue Masses. The prevalent assumption was that if these ideas and activities were explained in an alluring manner, then surely they would be understood and internalized, resulting in an energized and actively participating congregation. Seeing the same disinterest in students, Myre once again looked for answers in the adolescent psyche. Students were not simply obstinate. Rather, Myre argued that adolescents were naturally predisposed to spontaneity and desired to engage freely. Consequently, their psychological make-up caused them to reject rites that were traditional or imposed.93 Conclusions From the 1930s into the 1960s, succeeding generations of jocistes, jécistes, jicistes, and jacistes heard from their peers, teachers, and chaplains 90. Myre, “Liturgie et psychologie,” pp. 259–62. 91. Kevin J. Christiano, “The Trajectory of Catholicism in Twentieth Century Quebec,” in The Church Confronts Modernity: Catholicism since 1950 in the United States, Ireland, and Quebec, ed. Leslie Woodcock Tentler (Washington, DC, 2007), pp. 21–61, here pp. 30–31. 92. “Tous dans le jeu! Manifeste étudiant sur la messe,” JEC, 4–5 (1943), 1. 93. Myre, “Liturgie et psychologie,” pp. 267–74. INDRE CUPLINSKAS 145 that their work in SCA was to flow from active participation in the liturgy: laypeople had to embrace their membership in the Mystical Body of Christ and, together with Christ, offer up their daily lives, even their very selves, to bring about social regeneration. This message facilitated transformations in relations internal to the Church, while supporting shifts in the place of the Church in Quebec society. Internally the images of the corpus mysticum and the royal priesthood, along with the invitation to participation in Christ’s own sacrifice, opened the door to the renegotiation of clergy-lay relations at the very core of Church life—the Mass. Although in 1938 Villeneuve hoped that a better understanding of the Mass and increased participation in it would foster a deeper appreciation by the laity of the hierarchical order of the Church and the laity’s important but subordinate role,94 over the next two decades this very renewal blurred those distinctions. On the one hand, young laypeople were invited, both theologically and practically, into what had been clerical territory. The theological emphases of liturgical renewal forced clergy into a delicate balancing act between encouraging young SCA members to take on a larger role and maintaining hierarchical order. In the Mass proper, this relationship was still acted out in a heavily scripted manner during which the laity played a subordinate and instrumental role. Nevertheless, the theology behind liturgical renewal questioned the subordination and clean delineation of roles. Although it is difficult to make conclusive causal links in the realm of ideas, these shifts in liturgical roles would easily bolster the confident and later critical stance that SCA activists took toward some of their chaplains and episcopal directives starting in the late 1940s. Clergy, too, were forced to rethink their role, not only in the Mass but also in the way that priests directed the laity. SCA literature provides glimpses of chaplains grappling with the level of visibility of their leadership.95 They were beginning to conclude that, as in Lebel’s evocative image of the large “clergy-host” immolated in the shadows of the altar, clerical leadership should be exercised from inside the sanctuary.96 The changes ushered in with the image of the Mystical Body and participation in sacrifice were premised on what Gauvreau has termed the hermeneutic of rupture. The renewals taking place in the Catholic world 94. Villeneuve, Entretiens liturgiques, pp. 19–22. 95. Laurent Morin, “Le militant d’Action catholique et son apostolat social: Le militant et la hiérarchie,” Corps mystique et Action catholique, pp. 81–82. 96. René Lebel, “Récollection pour Militants d’Action catholique,” p. 43. 146 DOING IT RITE since the late-nineteenth century—biblical, liturgical, theological—shared a hermeneutic of retrieval in which the Christianity practiced by generations missed the mark. This put recent tradition into question as well as the practice of earlier generations. Such an assumption privileged youth and the future. The ideas of liturgical renewal in SCA approaches in Quebec are an important source of this hermeneutic of rupture, supplementing personalist thinkers from France and other purveyors of similar ideas. Moreover, these challenges to tradition and older generations were being acted out in the most important, tradition-laden, cultic act of the Church and thereby carried even more weight. The theology of liturgical renewal as articulated in SCA also had implications for the way that the Catholic Church was present in the world. It is important to recall that even Villeneuve was convinced that the liturgy mirrored the structure of society, and thus participation in liturgy taught people about their place both in the Church and the secular world.97 The ecclesiological shift from the image of a Christian city to Mystical Body facilitated the Church’s acceptance of a growing differentiation of spheres.98 There is a clear parallel between the changing relationship of clergy and laity in the liturgy and the place of clergy in Quebec society. Starting in the 1950s, clergy and religious retreated from leading roles in educational, social, and health institutions, giving way to laypeople and government. This was analogous to the clergy symbolically retreating, like Lebel’s hosts, into the shadows behind the altar. Moreover, the Mystical Body, with its Eucharistic focus, also identified the Church more clearly with its cultic functions. This theological shift accompanied the very real development that the Church’s most visible leaders—priests, in withdrawing from the secular sphere, logically were now limited to the religious and cultic one. At the same time, laypeople, the “mini-hosts,” took a leadership role in the secular sphere that was more clearly defined. The theology of liturgical renewal, however, now placed a much greater responsibility on the laity. They were no longer simply recipients of grace. The Mystical Body both drew laity into the erstwhile clerical terrain at the center of the Christian mystery, but it also pointed them outward. Now laypeople were positioned as mediators between the religious and secular worlds. 97. Villeneueve, Entretiens liturgiques, p. 8. 98. See Indre Cuplinskas, “En Masse: French Canadian Students, Catholicism, and Mass Media,” Journal of Religion and Popular Culture, 24 (2012), 148–69. From a Catholic Identity to an American View: Historical Studies, Reviews, and Fundamentals in Articles on Late Modern and Contemporary Europe ALBERTO MELLONI* The CHR has always paid attention to modern European history in its pages. But the meaning of what modern European history entailed varied over its history. At the beginning the journal presented Catholic research on the different origins of American Catholic cultures. In the central decades of the twentieth century, the focus shifted to Europe as a bona fide research subject that had significance for American history. A later tendency offers evidence for the American effort to be a leader and active partner in the main debates about a global historiography. Keywords: Catholicism, councils, history, methodology, Reformation, Europe, geography, Vatican T he “historical review” as an academic tool plays a crucial part in the history of historiography, as the review is born from the conviction of scholars practicing a metier1 that they can and should furnish their qualified readership, at short and regular intervals, with studies recognizable in their approach and authoritative in their findings. Moreover, like all reviews, the historical review is the expression of a desire to form and sustain a community: it presupposes the idea of the rapid diffusion of knowledge to an ever-growing circle of readers. Any success it enjoys will be a reflection of the choices of its personnel by which the editorial project is sustained. In particular, it thrives by the strength with which new questions, new discoveries, and new methods are taken up by those who pursue the profession in question and entrust their research to this vehicle. *Dr. Melloni is professor of the History of Christianity at the University of Modena/Reggio Emilia and secretary of the John XXIII Foundation for Religious Studies in Bologna, email: alberto.melloni@tin.it. He also is the general editor of the Conciliorum oecumenicorum generaliumque decreta, succeeding Giuseppe Alberigo, who was his mentor. 1. The English translation of Marc Bloch’s most famous book, published as Historian’s Craft, was reviewed by Robert Paul Mohan, CHR, 40 (1954), 219–20. 123 124 FROM A CATHOLIC IDENTITY TO AN AMERICAN VIEW The Catholic Historical Review is no exception to this basic phenomenology of the historical review as a genre of academic specialization. It was founded in America thirty years after what John Tracy Ellis called “the eventful 1884”2 on the initiative of a small group of qualified ecclesiastics linked to The Catholic University of America.3 First published in 1915, it rapidly became the organ of an association whose small size is periodically recalled as an index of the visionary heroism of its founders. Heroism was needed in 1914–15. Catholics living in the environs of Washington, DC, knew they were still in the aftermath of the papal condemnation of Americanism in 1899 and definitely in the midst of modernists’ repression. Their U.S. academic climate was shot through with anti-Catholic prejudice, where it was no easy task to provide a mouthpiece for Catholic education and scholarship while acknowledging a tendency to “ghettoize.” Even when looking to European res gestae and European historia rerum gestarum, the CHR went through the 1930s with a sense of its role as part of a philosophic apologetic, tasked with demonstrating the presence of the divine. In the years following World War II that saw the end of the ghetto culture that the CHR had combated, it gradually liberated itself from the straitjacket of the Catholic philosophy of history and won its own historiographic stature,4 which placed it on an equal footing with the discipline’s major journals—first and foremost the Revue d’histoire écclesiastique, founded in 1900. Later, in the birth of new historical reviews—like Cristianesimo nella storia, founded in 1980 by Giuseppe Alberigo, member of the American Catholic Historical Association (ACHA)’s board of corresponding fellows—the CHR began the journey from being a support for the scholars of American Catholicism to a voice capable of intervening in the global context of historical debate. Becoming the ACHA house organ in 1920, as the publication of its “Presidential Addresses” recalls, the CHR had (as noted in its opening editorial and in the essays on the major anniversaries) two particularly ambitious objectives: liberating American scholars from the invincible suspicion 2. John Tracy Ellis, “Reflections of an Ex-Editor,” CHR, 50 (1964–65), 459–74. The aim of Ellis’s article was to contribute to the CHR “autobiography”: “Fifty years from now when the Review reaches its centennial the editor of that distant day may regard these lines as part of the journal’s history” (p. 469). 3. John Tracy Ellis, The Formative Years of the Catholic University of America (Washington, DC, 1946), pp. 371–73. 4. A proof of this is the stabilization of editorial criteria that came with Guilday. Exemplary from this point of view is the retrospective to mark the CHR fortieth anniversary, written by Carl Wittke, dean of the graduate school and professor of American history at Western Reserve University, “CHR—Forty Years,” CHR, 42 (1956–57), 1–14. ALBERTO MELLONI 125 of Rome and a Church that had a deeper spiritual tension recognized by only a few (such as the obscure priest Angelo Roncalli from Bergamo5 ); and removing the veil of “national” prejudice that, in the United States of the early-twentieth century, continued to burden a minority regarded as alien to the country’s constitutional values. This essay analyzes the studies on Christianity in Europe from the revolutions of the eighteenth century to the present day6 that are to be found in the CHR’s pages ever since its foundation. This is done by considering the articles from different angles: (1) the places (cultural areas or nations) on which the subjects of study were focused, (2) the approaches implemented by the scholars who contributed to the CHR, and (3) the meaning for history and historiography. An Obvious Interest The studies relating to post-1789 Europe are distributed along an uneven quantitative curve. As with any kind of filter, concentrations or diminutions over time might be interpreted as “tendencies” but are no more than random “variations.” So, if we attempt to break down chronologically the approximately 500 articles, shorter notices, or major reviews dedicated either to the “modern” old world in the European sense of the term (and hence from the Reformation’s age to the present day) or more narrowly the “contemporary” period stretching from the French Revolution to the present, and distribute them among various decades in the life of the CHR, we will find that approximately 8 percent of them fall into the first decade of the CHR’s activity. This percentage rises to c. 10 percent for each of the decades that extend to the end of World War II, then falls to 7 percent in those years before and after the Second Vatican Council, doubles in the final decade of Paul VI’s pontificate, and returns to c. 10 percent in the the last thirty years. These variations are slight and almost insignificant, and they do not determine a trend. They correspond to the situation of other historical 5. Lucia Butturini, “Tradizione e rinnovamento nelle riflessioni del giovane Roncalli,” in Un cristiano sul trono di Pietro: Studi storici su Giovanni XXIII, ed. Fondazione per le scienze religiose di Bologna (Gorle, 2003), pp. 13–70. 6. A period that can indifferently be labeled as later modern and early contemporary if the beginning of modern history is placed in 1492 or 1517, as many textbooks do—or that might alternatively be called simply early or at least second modern if we consider the revolutions of late-eighteenth century as the real turning point in the global world. It confirms the question’s complexity. Kay Schiller, “Made Fit for America: The Renaissance Historian Hans Baron in London Exile 1936–1938,” in Historikerdialoge: Geschichte Mythos und Gedächtnis im deutsch-britischen kulturellen Austausch 1750–2000, ed. Stefan Berger, Peter Lambert, and Peter Schumann (Göttingen, 2003), pp. 345–59. 126 FROM A CATHOLIC IDENTITY TO AN AMERICAN VIEW reviews with a similar focus on a particular area (e.g., the Revue d’histore de l’Église de France) or historical journals with long traditions (like the Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte).7 Moreover, consistent with religious historiography throughout the world, the CHR showed, in the early years after WWII, a propensity to historicize the first half of the twentieth century and hence tackled sources and problems dating from twenty to forty years earlier. This capacity declined during the 1970s only insofar as the history of Catholicism is concerned, but not for the period that Eric Hobsbawm defined as the “short twentieth century,” which encompasses the years from the outbreak of World War I to the fall of the Soviet Union. Mapping Physical and Cultural Interests More significant is the breakdown of these studies by the geographic area studied by authors, who are for the most part American and ACHA members; they have been supplemented at times—increasingly so in more recent decades—by other scholars from the first ranks of the international academic community. 1. National Views The largest percentage of articles in the CHR dedicated to contemporary Europe with a “national” approach is devoted to France (c. 12 percent); Germany, England, Ireland, Italy, and Spain each have percentages expressly dedicated to their national territory ranging between 4 and 7 percent of the total; a few articles (the three to seven dedicated to Austria, Central and Eastern Europe, Russia, the Netherlands, Portugal, and Malta8 ) are excluded from this breakdown. Although care needs to be taken in drawing conclusions from such data, one thing is clear: the cultural indebtedness to German historiography does not restrict the research areas studied by American scholars, who have taken an interest in the whole of Europe and even supplied some interesting focal points, nor is it 7. Cf. some papers in the centenary issue of the Revue d’histore de l’Église de France. On the trends in the field of religious history, see A. Melloni, ed., Dizionario del sapere storicoreligioso del Novecento, 2 vols. (Bologna, 2010), ad vocem. 8. The CHR has published four articles on Malta: Thomas Freller, “The Pauline Cult in Malta and the Movement of the Counter-Reformation: The Development of Its International Reputation,” CHR, 85 (1999), 15–34; Frans Ciappara, “‘Una Messa in Perpetuum’: Perpetual Mass Bequests in Traditional Malta, 1750–1797,” CHR, 91 (2005), 278–99; Mario Buhagiar, “St. Paul’s Shipwreck and Early Christianity in Malta,” CHR, 93 (2007), 1–16; and Frans Ciappara, “The Parish Community in Eighteenth-Century Malta,” CHR, 94 (2008), 671–94. ALBERTO MELLONI 127 reflected in the involvement in American historiography of international scholars able to transplant methods and epistemological agendas.9 French Topics. As regards the history of France, whose salient idea of laicité has been studied in the CHR’s pages exclusively from a comparative point of view,10 an important group of articles concerns the position of French Catholics in political history. They cover the revolutionary phase11 (with due attention paid to the ecclesiastical eighteenth century before the Revolution12), the post-Napoleonic phase,13 the period of the Second Republic,14 and 9. For the medieval period we may think of the contribution of Stephan Kuttner; see Peter Landau, “Nachruf auf Stephan Kuttner,” Archiv für Katholisches Kirchenrecht, 165 (1996), 457–68. 10. Claude Fohlen, “American Catholics and the Separation of Church and State in France,” CHR, 80 (1994), 741–56. 11. David C. Miller, “A.-G. Camus and the Civil Constitution of the Clergy,” CHR, 76 (1990), 481–505. 12. Louis O’Brien, “The Huguenot Policy of Louis XIV and Pope Innocent XI,” CHR, 17 (1931), 29–42; Louis S. Greenbaum, “The General Assembly of the Clergy of France and Its Situation at the End of the Ancien Régime,” CHR, 53 (1967–68), 153–93; Louis S. Greenbaum, “Talleyrand as Agent-General of France: A Study in Comparative Influence,” CHR, 48 (1962), 473–86; L. S. Greenbaum, “Talleyrand and Vergennes: The Debut of a Diplomat,” CHR, 56 (1970–71), 543–50; Carlton J. H. Hayes, “Significance of the Reformation in the Light of Contemporary Scholarship,” CHR, 17 (1932), 395–420; L. J. Lekai, “Cardinal Richelieu as Abbot of Cîteaux,” CHR, 42 (1956–67), 137–56; Charles A. Le Guin, “An Anticlerical Bureaucrat in Eighteenth-Century France: Jean-Marie Roland,” CHR, 51 (1965–66), 487–502; L. S. Greenbaum, “Ten Priests in Search of a Miter: How Talleyrand Became a Bishop,” CHR, 50 (1964–65), 307–31; J. Lukacs, “The Last Days of Alexis de Tocqueville,” CHR, 50 (1964–65), 155–70; Harry W. Paul, “The Crucifix and the Crucible: Catholic Scientists in the Third Republic,” CHR, 58 (1972–73), 195–219. On counterrevolutionary action: Edward J. Woell, “Waging War for the Lord: Counterrevolutionary Ritual in Rural Western France, 1801–1906,” CHR, 88 (2002), 17–41. On the role of Bossuet, see Alfred Barry, “Bossuet and the Gallican Declaration of 1682,” CHR, 15 (1929), 143–53, and on the cultural aspects of the conflict between church and state, see Mary Kathryn Cooney, “May the Hatchet and the Hammer Never Damage It! The Fate of the Cathedral of Chartres during the French Revolution,” CHR, 92 (2006), 193–214. 13. After the study of Charles L. Souvay, “The French Papal States during the Revolution,” CHR, 8 (1923), 485–96, and two Napoleonic studies—M. Barbara, “Napoleon Bonaparte and the Restoration of Catholicism in France,” CHR, 12 (1926), 241–57, followed two decades later by R. B. Holtman, “The Catholic Church in Napoleon’s Propaganda Organization,” CHR, 85 (1949–50), 1–18—this area of research seems to have been neglected. 14. Patricia M. Dougherty, “The Rise and Fall of L’Ami de la Religion: History, Purpose and Readership of a French Catholic Newspaper,” CHR, 77 (1991), 21–41, which was published some forty years after the study of the man whose journal, the Univers, supplanted that newspaper—Waldemar Gurian, “Louis Veuillot,” CHR, 26 (1950–51), 385–414; Joseph N. Moody, “Religion on the Parisian Stage in 1840’s,” CHR, 59 (1973–74), 245–63; Joseph N. Moody, “The French Catholic Press of the 1840’s on American Catholicism,” CHR, 60 128 FROM A CATHOLIC IDENTITY TO AN AMERICAN VIEW the origins of the Third Republic15 after the defeat at Sedan in 1870 that closed the period of Napoleon III. The CHR has dedicated much attention to studies on the incubation of the democratic culture associated with French Catholicism and on the formula of Christian democracy, in evident synergy with a political debate within the American political world during these years.16 The question of French anticlericalism, including the important analysis of Joseph Moody, was also addressed in the CHR in the years between the postwar period and the 1970s.17 The interest during the central decades of the last century in such classic themes of historical research as the prerevolutionary eighteenth century is no cause for surprise. The studies on the clergy, on the other hand, show that the CHR shared the tendency of French and Italian historiography to study the model and role of the priest (and also of the bishop18) as a barometer of relations between church and society and not just as the medium of authority, as had been the case in the CHR’s early decades.19 (1974), 185–214—is an article that resumes the way of looking at America through French eyes in the nineteenth century as scrutinized by John J. Meng, “A Century of American Catholicism as Seen through French Eyes,” CHR, 27 (1941–42), 39–68. 15. Joseph F. Byrnes, “Reconciliation of Cultures in the Third Republic: Émile Mâle (1862–1954),” CHR, 83 (1997), 401–27; John B. Woodall, “Henri Bellot des Minières, Republican Bishop of Poitiers, 1881–1888,” CHR, 38 (1952–53), 257–84. Marvin L. Brown Jr., “Catholic-Legitimist Militancy in the Early Years of the Third French Republic,” CHR, 60 (1974), 233–54. 16. Excerpt from Francesca Cadeddu, “Democracy and Catholicism in the United States. Religious Freedom According to John Courtney Murray’s Thinking,” PhD diss., Universita degli Studi di Bologna, 2008. 17. Joseph N. Moody, “French Anticlericalism: Image and Reality,” CHR, 56 (1970– 71), 630–48, which should be compared with L. L. Rummel, “The Anticlerical Program as a Disruptive Factor in the Solidarity of the Late French Republics,” CHR, 34 (1948–49), 1– 19; Dan P. Silverman, “Political Catholicism and Social Democracy in Alsace-Lorraine, 1871–1914,” CHR, 42 (1966–67), 39–65; and R. William Rauch Jr., “From the Sillon to the Mouvement Républicain Populaire: Doctor Robert Cornilleau and a Generation of Christian Democrats in France, 1910–1940,” CHR, 58 (1972–73), 25–66. 18. Norman Ravitch, “Robe and Sword in the Recruitment of French Bishops,” CHR, 50 (1964–65), 494–508. 19. The earliest contribution is that of Jules A. Baisnée, “The French Clergy in the Nineteenth Century,” CHR, 23 (1937–38), 185–204; later developed in Baisnée, “The Clergy in Contemporary France (1908–1939),” CHR, 26 (1940–41), 67–77; on a wider historical perspective, see Michael F. Reardon, “Pierre Ballanche as a French Traditionalist,” CHR, 53 (1967–68), 573–99; Sandra Horvath Peterson, “Abbé Georges Darboy’s Statistique Religieuse du Diocèse de Paris (1856),” CHR, 68 (1982), 401–50; Joan L. Coffey, “For God and France: The Military Law of 1889 and the Soldiers of Saint-Sulpice,” CHR, 88 (2002), 677–701; James E. Ward, “Cardinal Richard versus Cardinal Lavigerie: Episcopal Resistance ALBERTO MELLONI 129 True passion comes across in some articles on individuals whose influence mirrors the sense of scholars on present issues. Prominent among them are the articles on Félicité Robert de Lamennais, who in 1922 was still regarded as an example for apologetics’ modernization. In the opposite way, Emmanuel Mounier and the Jeunesse Ouvrière Chretienne are studied from the mid-1930s on as key examples of a modernization of political theology particularly loaded with meaning in the United States.20 On the other hand, a crucial issue of the French situation such as that of education, and especially the status of French Catholic secondary schools, remained rather remote from the interests of American readers.21 Another key figure was Jules Michelet, whose thesis of les deux France—that of revolution and religion, which competed against each other in the nineteenth century—would be analyzed in a brilliant contribution by Anita Rasy May in 1987, exemplifying that the CHR tackled the key question of laicité when the issue was moribund.22 The political history of the interwar years was brought to American readers by a study on the policy of the main tendue that was published in 1978.23 As for the history of France in the two world wars, it would not to the Ralliement,” CHR, 53 (1967–68), 346–71; Edward T. Gargan, “The Priestly Culture in Modern France,” CHR, 67 (1971–72), 1–20. 20. See William P. Kitchin, “The Story of Lamennais,” CHR, 8 (1922), 198–211, which should be contrasted with J. A. Ryan, “Condemnation of L’Avenir,” CHR, 33 (1937– 38), 31–39; David L. Lewis, “Emmanuel Mounier and the Politics of Moral Revolution: Aspects of Political Crises in French Liberal Catholicism, 1935–1938,” CHR, 56 (1970–71), 266–90; Arthur Robert, “Pourquoi Rome a Parlé,” CHR, 14 (1928), 228–36; and Oscar L. Arnal, “Toward a Lay Apostolate of the Workers: Three Decades of Conflict for the French Jeunesse Ouvrière Chrétienne (1927–1956),” CHR, 73 (1987), 211–27. As for the role of Lacordaire, the CHR has limited itself to recalling his criticisms concerning the reactionary bishop of Pas’s conversion, his old friend, in Mark A. Gabbert, “Bishop Avant Tout: Archbishop Sibour’s Betrayal of the Second Republic,” CHR, 64 (1978), 337–56; Gerard C. Thormann, “The Ideological Evolution of French Christian Trade Unionism since World War II,” CHR, 56 (1970–71), 67–93; Guillaume de Bertier de Sauvigny, “The Young Montalembert: Liberal, Catholic, and Romantic,” CHR, 77 (1991), 485–88. 21. But see Patrick J. Harrigan, “The Church and Pluralistic Education: The Development of and Teaching in French Catholic Secondary Schools, 1850–1870,” CHR, 64 (1978), 185–213. 22. Anita Rasi May, “Is ‘Les Deux France’ a Valid Framework for Interpreting the Nineteenth-Century Church? The French Episcopate as a Case Study,” CHR, 73 (1987), 541–61; on the weakening of the hellfire’s fear and Delumeau, see Ralph Gibson, “Hellfire and Damnation in Nineteenth-Century France,” CHR, 74 (1988), 383–402. 23. Francis J. Murphy, “La Main Tendue: Prelude to Christian-Marxist Dialogue in France, 1936–1939,” CHR, 60 (1974), 255–70. Other erratic themes: M. Wade, “The French Parish and Survivance in Nineteenth-Century New England,” CHR, 26 (1950–51), 163–89; Alfred Perkins, “From Uncertainty to Opposition: French Catholic Liberals and Imperial Expansion, 1880–1885,” CHR, 82 (1996), 204–24. 130 FROM A CATHOLIC IDENTITY TO AN AMERICAN VIEW seem that the CHR has expressed any other interest than that testified by its book reviews of great series reflecting the cultural debate in that homeland of Les Annales.24 German Topics. By contrast, German history in CHR covering the last two centuries has centered on more precise key issues. The CHR’s interest in the nineteenth century concentrated on the latter decades and preeminently on the political aspect. Predictably, the Kulturkampf was, for American readers, an intriguing story in light of their own experience.25 The rise of the Catholic party of the Zentrum also attracted considerable interest, possibly for the opposite reason.26 A few articles devoted to the Center Party before and during World War I, all of them published during the 1950s and ’60s, analyzed later developments of political Catholicism in Germany.27 Only later, in the 1970s, did the CHR attempt to come to terms with the Weimar Republic and the confrontation between Catholics and Socialists: a question analyzed in an important article by Thomas Knapp.28 The predominant interest, however, proved to be the relation between the Church and Third Reich, as a sort of response to the edition 24. That the national associations had been a focus of attention since the 1920s is shown by Victor Carrière, “La Société d’Histoire Ecclésiastique de la France,” CHR, 7 (1922), 413–30. 25. Francis A. Arlinghaus, “The Kulturkampf and European Diplomacy, 1871–1875,” CHR, 28 (1942–43), 340–75; F. A. Arlinghaus, “British Public Opinion and the Kulturkampf in Germany, 1871–1875,” CHR, 34 (1948–49), 385–413; Pontus Hiort, “Constructing Another Kind of German: Catholic Commemorations of German Unification in Baden, 1870–1876,” CHR, 93 (2007), 17–46. 26. Paradigmatic for European political Catholicism as a whole, it was comprehensively reviewed in two bibliographic studies by John K. Zeender, “A New Look at the German Center Party in a Period of Crisis,” CHR, 54 (1968–69), 320–24, and “Recent Literature on the German Center Party,” CHR, 70 (1984), 428–41, as well as by Stanley Zucker, “Philipp Wasserburg and Political Catholicism in Nineteenth-Century Germany,” CHR, 74 (1984), 14–27. On Catholic associations, see Sándor Agócs, “‘Germania Doceat!’ The Volksverein, the Model for Italian Catholic Action, 1905–1914,” CHR, 61 (1975), 31–47. 27. John L. Snell, “Benedict XV, Wilson, Michaelis and German Socialism,” CHR, 38 (1951–52), 151–78; John K. Zeender, “The German Center Party during World War I: An International Study,” CHR, 42 (1956–57), 441–68; Klaus Epstein, “Erzberger’s Position in the Zentrumsstreit before World War I,” CHR, 44 (1958–59), 1–16. 28. Thomas Knapp, “The Red and the Black: Catholic Socialists in the Weimar Republic,” CHR, 61 (1975), 386–408; this interest had already been expressed in Ronald Warloski, “Catholic Students and Revolutionary Germany: The Establishment of Neudeutschland in 1918–1919,” CHR, 53 (1967–68), 600–20, and would return with Lawrence D. Walker, “‘Young Priests’ as Opponents: Factors Associated with Clerical Opposition to the Nazis in Bavaria, 1933,” CHR, 65 (1979), 402–13. ALBERTO MELLONI 131 of sources launched by the German bishops. Such an interest had begun even before Rolf Hochhuth’s play Der Stellvertreter. Ein christliches Trauerspiel (The Deputy: A Christian Tragedy)—which premiered in Berlin in February 1963 and on Broadway in February 1964—expressed doubts about the “silence” of Pius XII on the Nazi genocide. Even if the pope himself in the Consistory of June 1945 had raised doubts, a heated debate ensued, and it was destined to grow into a long-standing controversy from the 1960s onward.29 Initially, the CHR published some articles on the Holy See’s reaction to Nazi Germany, focusing on Achille Ratti (later Pope Pius XI). But when the controversy on the role of Pius XII raged in Europe in the 1960s, the CHR remained silent. Not until the 1970s did it return to the problem with a series of studies, beginning with that of John Conway, a leading authority on the Nazi persecution of Catholics, which often was used as an argument to exculpate the ecclesiastical authorities of complicity. The research of Robert Graham, one of the Jesuit Fathers commissioned by Paul VI to publish a series of Actes et documents du Saint Siège rélatifs à la II Guerre Mondiale, followed a large Vatican “white book” that would (in Paul VI’s mind) prove the Church’s innocence.30 The issue had not been exhausted and would recur as the new millennium approached, as CHR offered a series of other articles that culminated in the important review of Mark Edward Ruff,31 who tried to find a viable path through this minefield in light of John Paul II’s mea culpa and the opening of the Vatican archives. 29. For a presentation by Alessandro Persico, see Il caso Pio XII: Mezzo secolo di dibattito su Eugenio Pacelli (Milan, 2008), a historical analysis of the contemporary period had already been presented in CHR, 20 (1934), 23–27, with John Brown Mason’s “The Concordat with the Third Reich,” and even earlier the CHR had published Edwin Ryan, “Papal Concordats in Modern Times,” CHR, 16 (1930), 302–10. 30. William M. Harrigan, “Pius XI and Nazi Germany, 1937–1939,” CHR, 51 (1965–66), 457–86; John S. Conway, “A German National Reich Church and American War Propaganda,” CHR, 62 (1976), 464–72; Robert A. Graham, “The ‘Right to Kill’ in the Third Reich: Prelude to Genocide,” CHR, 62 (1976), 56–76; Radomir V. Luža, “Nazi Control of the Austrian Catholic Church, 1939–1941,” CHR, 73 (1977), 537–72; Daniel Horn, “The Struggle for Catholic Youth in Hitler’s Germany: An Assessment,” CHR, 65 (1979), 561–82. 31. Martin F. Ederer, “Propaganda Wars: ‘Stimmen der Zeit’ and the Nazis, 1933– 1935,” CHR, 90 (2004), 456–72; Margaret F. Stieg, “Catholic Libraries and Public Libraries in the Third Reich: A Reciprocal Relationship,” CHR, 77 (1991), 235–59; Michael E. O’Sullivan, “An Eroding Milieu? Catholic Youth, Church Authority, and Popular Behavior in NW Germany during the Third Reich, 1933–1938,” CHR, 90 (2004), 236–59; Mark Edward Ruff, “The Nazis’ Religionspolitik: An Assessment of Recent Literature,” CHR, 92 (2006), 252–67. 132 FROM A CATHOLIC IDENTITY TO AN AMERICAN VIEW Postwar Germany came into discussion as part of Paul VI’s Ostpolitik, an issue raised by Paul Weibel as early as 1979.32 Sources for this field of study proliferated after 1989, but seem not to have met with the favor of the authors and editors of the CHR. A more absorbing and long-standing issue for the CHR was that of the social history of religion in its Catholic implications and, more generally, that of German Catholics and national “identity.”33 English and Scottish Topics. In its treatment of the history of England, the CHR has dedicated far more space to the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries than to the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Here some studies should be pointed out that discussed the clash between English Catholics and Protestants, the struggle for Catholic emancipation, and the religious policies in the eighteenth century that would influence the subsequent period: thirty-seven articles that were interpreted by the CHR as containing an issue pertaining to the identity of American Christianity. As with French history, another major interest was the work of key figures of the nineteenth century such as William Cobbett, political journalist; Ambrose Philips De Lisle, English Catholic convert and tireless campaigner for the conversion of England and for the promotion of Christian unity; the inevitable Cardinal Henry E. Manning; and Henry Nutcombe Oxenham, English ecclesiologist, essayist, and translator.34 There was no lack in the CHR’s pages of such staple ingredients of Catholic historical research as Catholic education or Catholic involvement in political movements, whether it be in the Liberal Party or the suffragette movement, or the analysis of periodicals, conducted with enthusiasm and ingenuity, and reflective of a popular practice in the 1960s.35 32. Paul R. Waibel, “Politics of Accommodation: The SPD Visit to the Vatican, March 5, 1964,” CHR, 65 (1979), 238–52. 33. Marvin R. O’Connell, “The Bishopric of Monaco, 1902: A Revision,” CHR, 71 (1985), 26–51; Eric Yonke, “The Catholic Subculture in Modern Germany: Recent Work in the Social History of Religion,” CHR, 80 (1994), 534–45; Jeffrey T. Zalar, “‘Knowledge Is Power’: The Borromäusverein and Catholic Reading Habits in Imperial Germany,” CHR, 86 (2000), 20–46; Martin Menke, “‘Thy Will Be Done’: German Catholics and National Identity in the Twentieth Century,” CHR, 91 (2005), 300–30. 34. John W. Osborne, “William Cobbett’s Role in the Catholic Emancipation Crisis, 1823–1829,” CHR, 49 (1963–64), 382–89; L. Allen, “Ambrose Phillipps De Lisle, 1809– 1878,” CHR, 40 (1954–55), 1–26; Joseph O. Baylen, ed., “Cardinal Manning and W. T. Stead: Notes of an Unpublished Interview,” CHR, 48 (1962), 498–507; Wayne M. O’Sullivan, “Henry Nutcombe Oxenham: Enfant Terrible of the Liberal Catholic Movement in Mid-Victorian England,” CHR, 82 (1996), 637–60. 35. Joan Bland, “The Impact of Government on English Catholic Education, 1870– 1902,” CHR, 62 (1976), 36–55; John P. Rossi, “English Catholics, the Liberal Party, and the ALBERTO MELLONI 133 Although he was almost ignored for half a century, the English Catholic convert most covered in twentieth-century English religious historiography is Blessed John Henry Newman. The CHR proved no exception. Marked by the reverence for an experience seen as an interconfessional bridge, its interest in Newman began in the 1960s and continued to the end of the century.36 In a memorable lecture given in Washington to the joint session of the ACHA and the American Society of Church History, Ellis underlined Newman’s ecumenical significance37 and explained the reasons for the growing interest in his theological ideas, as later manifested in a series of articles, reviews of new editions of his works, critical notes, and studies on the theological implications of the cardinal’s extensive writings.38 Irish Topics. The debt of American Catholicism to Irish Catholicism is not merely quantitative, nor is it limited to the mass emigration to the New World after the Great Famine (or, as it is rendered in Gaelic, An Gorta Mór) between 1845 and 1852. This debt is expressed through articles that cover the whole history of Christianity in the Emerald Isle as well as the “contemporary” stretch.39 The editors’ attention is selective: the most decisive questions of religious policy in the nineteenth century—such as the Act of Union on the one side40 and the laws of emancipation from the “religious bar” on the other, studied in many volumes reviewed by the CHR—were not subject of specific articles. On the contrary, the crisis of General Election of 1880,” CHR, 73 (1977), 411–27; Francis M. Mason, “The Newer Eve: The Catholic Women’s Suffrage Society in England, 1911–1923,” CHR, 72 (1986), 620–38; James E. O’Neill, “The British Quarterlies and the Religious Question, 1802–1829,” CHR, 42 (1966–67), 350–71; Bernardo Rodriguez Caparrini, “The Relations of Beaumont College (Old Windsor, England) with the British Monarchy (1861–1908),” CHR, 98 (2012), 703–25. 36. John L. Morrison, “The Oxford Movement and the British Periodicals,” CHR, 45 (1959–60), 137–60; Stephen C. Dessain, “The Newman Archives and the Projected Edition of the Cardinal’s Letters,” CHR, 46 (1960–61), 22–26; Derek J. Holmes, “Newman’s Reputation and The Lives of the English Saints,” CHR, 42 (1966–67), 528–38; Leo E. McMannus, “Newman’s ‘Great Anxiety,’” CHR, 80 (1994), 457–75. 37. John Tracy Ellis, “John Henry Newman: A Bridge for Men of God Will,” CHR, 56 (1970–71), 1–24. 38. For the American repercussions, see John Whitney Evans, “John La Farge, America, and the Newman Movement,” CHR, 64 (1978), 614–43. Newman is also found as a major heading in the CHR’s cumulative indices, with an abundance of references even to articles in which he is just fleetingly mentioned. 39. James F. Kenney, “Early Irish History as a Field for Research by American Students,” CHR, 17 (1931), 1–9. See M. J. Hynes, “The Church of Ireland,” CHR, 21 (1935– 36), 400–428, for a portrait of Irish Catholicism on the eve of WWII. 40. Donald J. McDougall, “George III, Pitt, and the Irish Catholics, 1801–1805,” CHR, 31 (1945–46), 255–81. 134 FROM A CATHOLIC IDENTITY TO AN AMERICAN VIEW 1844–45 and the Maynooth agitation41 attracted solid scholarship. This tendency to interpret major processes of political emancipation in smaller events or symptomatic episodes did not preclude articles on wider questions such as Home Rule, Irish nationalism, and anti-Catholicism.42 The two most innovative articles, however, are those on the nomination of bishops, studied by John H. White in 1963 in the context of a confessional history of insular Europe,43 and the missionary question analyzed by Edmund M. Hogan (author of a dissertation on “The Society of African Mission in Ireland” in 1973). Hogan’s article showed that the Irish Church also shared the missionary tendencies of the modern period, undoubtedly better organized in other countries but not alien to the culture or aspirations of the national clergy.44 Italian Topics. In the context of Mediterranean Europe, Italian history has especially drawn the attention of scholars and of the CHR. The interest is predictable and has been reinforced by a number of circumstances: first, the availability and richness of local archives, which the temporal power and its influence on the national life has helped to preserve; second, the interest raised by Leo XIII’s opening of the Archivio Segreto Vaticano; and third, the familiarity with the Italian language that many well-educated American priests have developed in their Roman studies and was further strengthened in 1933 when the students of the North American College were granted permission to attend lectures at the Gregorian University. 41. Gilbert A. Cahill, “The Protestant Association and the Anti-Maynooth Agitation of 1845,” CHR, 43 (1957–58), 273–308. The finest historical account of the crisis is found in Maurice R. O’Connell, “Young Ireland and the Catholic Clergy in 1844: Contemporary Deceit and Historical Falsehood,” CHR, 74 (1988), 199–225. On the foundation of the college of Maynooth: Vincent J. McNally, “John Thomas Troy, Archbishop of Dublin, and the Establishment of Saint Patrick’s College, Maynooth, 1791–1795,” CHR, 67 (1981), 565–88. 42. James J. Green, “American Catholics and the Irish Land League, 1879–1882,” CHR, 85 (1949–50), 19–42; L. J. McCaffrey, “The Home Rule Party and Irish Nationalist Opinion, 1874–1876,” CHR, 43 (1957–58), 160–77; Vincent Alan McClelland, “The Irish Clergy and Archbishop Manning’s Apostolic Visitation of the Western District of Scotland, 1867. Part I: The Coming of the Irish,” CHR, 53 (1967–68), 1–27; “The Irish Clergy and Archbishop Manning’s Apostolic Visitation of the Western District of Scotland, 1867. Part II: A Final Solution,” CHR, 53 (1967–68), 229–50; Edward Cuddy, “The Irish Question and the Revival of Anti-Catholicism in the 1920’s,” CHR, 67 (1981), 236–55. 43. The theme was also the only one to attract the review’s interest in Scotland; cf. Vincent Alan McClelland, “A Hierarchy for Scotland, 1868–1878,” CHR, 56 (1970–71), 474–500. 44. John H. White, “The Appointment of Catholic Bishops in Nineteenth Century Ireland,” CHR, 48 (1962), 12–32; Edmund M. Hogan, “The Congregation of the Holy Ghost and the Evolution of the Modern Irish Missionary Movement,” CHR, 70 (1984), 1–13. ALBERTO MELLONI 135 Over the years the CHR has given but little coverage to the study of the Italian eighteenth century,45 while a small niche has been maintained for the study of the history of the Italian urban milieu.46 Apart from the papacy (on which the majority of research has inevitably been concentrated) and the history of the Second Vatican Council (which will be discussed later),47 the main areas in which the CHR’s studies have been concentrated are essentially two: the Risorgimento and fascism. On the process of national unification in the nineteenth century, and the conflicts that it opened both in relation with and within Catholicism, the CHR has made several important contributions.48 After welcoming the opening at Harvard University in the 1940s of the Henry Nelson Gay archive—a collection of 43,000 contemporary pamphlets, newspapers, and broadsides in defense of the conservative position during and after the National Risorgimento49—the CHR published several analyses, exemplary of their kind, using diplomatic reports and periodical sources.50 Extended contributions in this area have been provided by Frank Coppa, who accessed and assessed sources written in Italian and who became one of the more prolific authors on post-Risorgimento Italy.51 45. Samuel J. Miller, “The Limits of Political Jansenism in Tuscany: Scipione de’ Ricci to Peter Leopold, 1780–1791,” CHR, 80 (1994), 762–67. 46. Decades before the programs on the history of French dioceses and the following series; see D. Koenig, “Notes and Suggestions on the History of Naples in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries,” CHR, 28 (1942–43), 382–87; Howard R. Marraro, “A Description of Rome and Naples in an Eighteenth-Century American Magazine,” CHR, 56 (1970–71), 661–66. 47. Some absences in the archive of the CHR would also be worth researching, such as that of the German historian Hubert Jedin in studies on the Council of Trent, or that of Giuseppe Alberigo in studies on the Second Vatican Council; but on the collection of Alberigo’s posthumously published studies, cf. the review of John O’Malley in CHR, 96 (2010), 163–64 (one of the numerous reviews placed on hold but resurrected following Nelson H. Minnich’s assumption of the editorship). 48. Howard R. Marraro, “Unpublished American Documents on the Roman Republic of 1849,” CHR, 28 (1942–43), 459–90; Friedrich Engel-Janosi, “The Return of Pius IX in 1850,” CHR, 26 (1950–51), 129–62; Raymond L. Cummings, “The Papacy and the Liberal Campaign against the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies (1850’s),” CHR, 76 (1990), 697–711; Frank J. Coppa, “Pio IX and the Jews: From ‘Reform’ to ‘Reaction,’ 1846–1878,” CHR, 89 (2003), 671–95. 49. J. T. Durkin, “A Rich Source Collection for Catholic Scholars of the Risorgimento: The Henry Nelson Gay Materials of HU,” CHR, 29 (1943–44), 347–56. 50. Dora Guerrieri, “The Attitude of the Civiltà Cattolica on the Italian Question, 1866– 1870,” CHR, 34 (1948–49), 154–74; J. T. Durkin, “The Early Years of Italian Unification as Seen by an American Diplomat,” CHR, 30 (1944–45), 271–89; S. William Halperin, “Catholic Journalism in Italy and the Italo-Papal Conflict in 1870’s,” CHR, 59 (1973–74), 587–601. 51. See also Frank J. Coppa, “Realpolitik and Conviction in the Conflict between Piedmont and the Papacy during the Risorgimento,” CHR, 54 (1968–69), 579–612. 136 FROM A CATHOLIC IDENTITY TO AN AMERICAN VIEW If the articles on Giolittian Italy and World War I constitute an interlude in the pages of the CHR,52 the pontificate of Pius XI has been the subject of a number of important studies in the two decades following the Second Vatican Council. The pope’s policy of forging concordats (such as the Lateran Pacts of 1929 with the Italian State), relations between Church and regime, and the role of Catholics in Fascist Italy have been analyzed in several articles, but have hardly ever been studied in terms of social history or history of the clergy. Even Renzo De Felice’s monumental biography of Benito Mussolini seems of more help in grasping the different positions within the Church: a contingent accommodation inspired by the utopia of a restored Christendom; an ideological rapprochement that would also become open support for the military campaigns in Africa and for racism in the Belpaese; or the contrary pressures that led to the formation of antifascist groups.53 Striking in the CHR’s research on postwar Italian history, on the other hand, is the lack of attention to the Christian Democratic history of the country—with the remarkable exception of Alcide De Gasperi. Over the past twenty years, the CHR, however, published two important articles on the relations between the Italian Church and the communist left in the 1960s and one essay on the new movements.54 At the same time, it failed to spot the singularity of the belated foundation of the Italian Bishops’ Conference or to comment on the interconnections—and sometimes the mismatch—between social and religious sensibilities. 52. Ronald S. Cunsolo, “Nationalists and Catholics in Giolittian Italy: An Uneasy Collaboration,” CHR, 79 (1993), 22–53; Frank J. Coppa, “Giolitti and the Gentiloni Pact between Myth and Reality,” CHR, 53 (1967–68), 217–28; F. Engel-Janosi, “The Roman Question in the First Years of Benedict XV,” CHR, 40 (1954–55), 269–85. The study of the young Montini by Richard J. Wolff, “Giovanni Battista Montini and Italian Politics, 1897– 1933: The Early Life of Pope Paul VI,” CHR, 71 (1985), 228–47, responds more to the interest in Montini’s youth expressed by the documents and testimonies published by Fappani and Molinari (1979) than to any original interest on the part of the review. 53. Elisa A. Carrillo, “Alcide de Gasperi and the Lateran Pact,” CHR, 49 (1963–64), 532–39; Richard Drake, “Julius Evola, Radical Fascism, and the Lateran Accords,” CHR, 74 (1988), 403–19; Albert C. O’Brien, “Italian Youth in Conflict: Catholic Action and Fascist Italy, 1929–1931,” CHR, 68 (1982), 625–35; Frank J. Coppa, “The Hidden Encyclical of Pius XI against Racism and Anti-Semitism Uncovered—Once Again!” CHR, 84 (1998), 63– 72. A more recent review of the problems posed by the relations between the Holy See and the Fascist regime is that of Lucia Ceci, L’interesse superior: Il Vaticano e l’Italia di Mussolini (Rome, 2013). 54. A. William Salomone, “A Man of the Frontier: Alcide De Gasperi,” CHR, 53 (1967–68), 416–21, and see also Elisa A. Carrillo, “The Italian Catholic Church and Communism, 1943-1963,” CHR, 77 (1991), 644–57 and Richard Drake, “Catholics and the Italian Revolutionary Left of the 1960s,” CHR, 94 (2008), 450–75. ALBERTO MELLONI 137 Spanish Topics. When the CHR first turned its eye to Spain, the “splendid little war” of 1898 still cast its shadow over relations with the former superpower, which, in the eyes of Catholic historians, represented everything that North American Catholicism should reject. The Spanish complex—as can also be seen in the few contributions published on Portugal in the CHR55—therefore led to coverage being given to the failed reform in the eighteenth century rather than more recent events.56 Yet both the CHR and the ACHA, ever since their foundations, were keen to offer a metahistorical explanation, at best disparaging, of Spanish decadence: a people forged by intolerance and war against the Moors, inspired by the spirit of the Inquisition, called in 1492 by the Italian Christopher Columbus to assume a universal vocation that exceeded their grasp57 yet they claimed was fulfilled by the American Revolution.58 Only in the 1960s and ’70s did the CHR publish its first studies on Spanish Catholicism in the nineteenth century, based on a reading of the primary sources and careful analysis of some of its major protagonists.59 Whereas for both Germany and Italy the authoritarian side of Nazism and fascism had captured the attention of the CHR’s authors and editors since the 1950s, the four articles devoted to the Spanish Civil War and the Republican persecution span from the period of the 1960s to the present.60 55. Apart from Samuel J. Miller, “Portugal and Utrecht: A Phase of the Catholic Enlightenment,” CHR, 73 (1977), 225–48, the CHR has published one other historical article on Portugal: the missionary narrative of Manoel S. Cardozo, “The Idea of History in the Portuguese Chronicles of the Age of Discovery,” CHR, 49 (1963–64), 1–19. 56. Cf., for example, the articles of Paul J. Hauben, “The Enlightenment and Minorities: Two Spanish Discussions,” CHR, 65 (1979), 1–19, and Elisa Luque Alcaide, “Reformist Currents in the Spanish-American Councils of the Eighteenth Century,” CHR, 91 (2005), 743–60. 57. Julius Klein, “The Church in Spanish American History,” CHR, 3 (1917), 290– 307; Francis J. Tschan, “The Fundamental Causes of the Decadence of Spain,” CHR, 9 (1925), 265–84. 58. Charles H. McCarthy, “The Attitude of Spain during the American Revolution,” CHR, 2 (1916), 47–65. 59. Thomas P. Neill, “Juan Donoso Cortés: History and ‘Prophecy,’” CHR, 40 (1954– 55), 385–410, a sympathetic account of the Spanish philosopher’s conviction of a distant future that would justify his illiberal spirit; Fernando A. Picó, “Emilio Castelar and the Spanish Church,” CHR, 42 (1966–67), 534–48; Nancy A. Rosenblatt, “The Spanish Moderados and the Church, 1834–1835,” CHR, 67 (1971–72), 401–20; and Rosenblatt, “Church and State in Spain: A Study of Moderate Liberal Politics in 1845,” CHR, 62 (1976), 589–603. 60. J. M. Sánchez, “The Second Spanish Republic and the Holy See, 1931–1936,” CHR, 49 (1963–64), 47–68; Sánchez, “The Spanish Church and the Second Republic and Civil War, 1931–1939,” CHR, 82 (1996), 661–68. James R. O’Connell, “The Spanish 138 FROM A CATHOLIC IDENTITY TO AN AMERICAN VIEW Nothing has yet appeared on post-Franco Spain; and in terms of social history, the only significant contributions are the ones on Marian piety (2001)—a theme rendered more attractive by its relation with the history of gender in other historical subdisciplines—and on the construction of a new Spanish identity after the age of revolutions.61 Austrian, Central European, and Eastern European Topics. Big names deal with modern Austria.62 The transitional period from the postNapoleonic era to the end of World War I has been studied most extensively. The main foci have been the restoration of the Jesuits (a recurrent theme in the CHR’s history, which has often drawn on the historical expertise of the Society of Jesus via its contributors from that religious order63) and, in a lengthy three-part study, the life and work of the Catholic activist and theologian Anton Günther and his followers, victims of the failed revolution in 1848 and the doctrinal condemnation in 1857.64 The historical and archival expertise of so distinguished a scholar as Friedrich Engel-Janosi65 enabled the CHR in the first decade after World War II to publish three important contributions on the papacy of Pius IX, the conclave that followed his death in 1878, and the important role played Republic: Further Reflections on Its Anticlerical Policies,” CHR, 67 (1971–72), 275–89, is dedicated to the book that won the prestigious Adams Prize, Gabriel Jackson’s The Spanish Republic and Civil War, 1931–1939 (Princeton, 1965). Then José L. Gonzalez Gullon, “Leocadio Lobo: The Spanish Civil War as Viewed by a Priest Exiled in the United States of America,” CHR, 98 (2012), 726–50, and lately Santiago Martinez Sanchez, “The Spanish Bishops and Nazism during the Spanish Civil War,” CHR, 99 (2013), 499–530. See also William Callahan, “New Perspectives on the Spanish Civil War: The Gomá Archive,” CHR, 100 (2014), 792–99. 61. Julio de la Cueva, “Inventing Catholic Identities in Twentieth-Century Spain: The Virgin Bien-Aparecida, 1904–1910,” CHR, 87 (2001), 624–42; John N. Schumacher, “Integrism: A Study in Nineteenth Century Spanish Politico-Religious Thought,” CHR, 48 (1962), 343–64. 62. An article on Austria did appear in the CHR’s second year of life—S. G. Messmer, “Some American Items from an Old Austrian Periodical,” CHR, 2 (1916), 184–88—and the CHR was commended by the Mississippi Valley Historical Review, 3, no. 2 (1916–17), 269 for offering in this issue “an unusually interesting array of titles.” 63. Alan Reinerman, “The Return of the Jesuits to the Austrian Empire and the Decline of Josephinism, 1820–1822,” CHR, 42 (1966–67), 372–90. 64. Thomas W. Simons Jr., “Vienna’s First Catholic Political Movement: The Ghünterians, 1848–1857. Part I,” CHR, 45 (1969–70), 173–94; Simons, “Vienna’s First Catholic Political Movement: The Ghünterians, 1848–1857. Part II,” CHR, 45 (1969–70), 377–93; Simons, “Vienna’s First Catholic Political Movement: The Ghünterians, 1848–1857. Part III,” CHR, 45 (1969–70), 610–26; on the same area, see Donald D. Dietrich, “Priests and Political Thought: Theology and Reform in Central Europe, 1845–1855,” CHR, 71 (1985), 519–46. 65. The historian replaced the aristocratic von with a hyphen at the beginning of his career. ALBERTO MELLONI 139 by Austrian diplomacy in these events.66 The CHR published some articles in the 1970s and ’80s on the speculum principum used at the court of Vienna; on the Golden Jubilee of Emperor Franz Josef, celebrated with religious devotion; and also on Catholic Action, which had become fashionable in many periodicals during these years.67 The CHR has not devoted much research to the lands of the former Austro-Hungarian Empire that became independent nations after World War I and Soviet satellites after World War II. But the career of Štepán Trochta—the Czech Salesian who was imprisoned in Nazi concentration camps during the war, later persecuted for his anticommunist resistance, and created cardinal in pectore by Paul VI in 1969 (an appointment not publicized until shortly before the cardinal’s death in 1974)—is examined in an affectionate but largely undocumented study four years later.68 Challenging in tone, it seems more an attack on Paul VI’s Ostpolitik than an objective study based on primary sources.69 Articles on the “Church of silence” that examine the situation of communist Poland in the period between 1956 and 1966 adopted the same militant tone.70 Much emphasis was placed in the 1960s on the millennium of Poland’s Christian heritage and on studies dedicated to the history of Poland’s universities.71 Only after the crisis and end of the philo-Soviet 66. Friederich Engel-Janosi, “The Austrian Ambassadors Discuss the Successor of Pius IX,” CHR, 30 (1944–45), 1–27; Engel-Janosi, “French and Austrian Political Advice to Pius IX, 1846–1848,” CHR, 38 (1952–53), 1–20; Engel-Janosi, “Austria and the Conclave of 1878,” CHR, 39 (1953–54), 142–66. 67. Paula Sutter Fichtner, “Of Christian Virtue and a Practicing Prince: Emperor Ferdinand I and His Son Maximilian,” CHR, 61 (1975), 409–16; James Shedel, “Emperor, Church, and People: Religion and Dynastic Loyalty during the Golden Jubilee of Franz Joseph,” CHR, 76 (1990), 71–92; Laura Gellott, “Defending Catholic Interests in the Christian State: The Role of Catholic Action in Austria, 1933–1938,” CHR, 74 (1988), 571–89. 68. Ludvik Nemec, “Štepán Cardinal Trochta: A Steadfast Defender of the Church in Czechoslovakia,” CHR, 74 (1978), 644–59. 69. In the 1930s, on the other hand, the review published a comprehensive survey of Vatican policy to the Oriental churches in the aftermath of WWI: Olgerd P. SherbowitzWetzor, “The Holy See and the Oriental Churches in the Post-War Period,” CHR, 33 (1937–38), 442–45. 70. Richard F. Staar, “The Church of Silence in Communist Poland,” CHR, 42 (1956– 57), 296–321; ten years later, to commemorate the millennium of the baptism of the nation, the CHR published a long two-part contribution by Oscar Halecki, “Problems of Ecumenism in Poland’s Millennium” and “The Place of Czestochowa in Poland’s Millennium,” CHR, 42 (1966–67), 488–93, 494–508. 71. An earlier paper on the Polish universities, and one still pioneering in character, was that of Kaethe Spiegel, “The Origin of the University of Prague,” CHR, 15 (1929), 179–82; 140 FROM A CATHOLIC IDENTITY TO AN AMERICAN VIEW regime did the first studies appear on Polish nationalism and on its Catholic component.72 Russian Topics. In its coverage of Russian history the CHR focused on the Catholic presence in that country. In the 1950s, the CHR also published an article on the ideology of Moscow as the Third Rome,73 at a time when the Jesuit mission toward (or against) other Christians in the modern period aroused interest,74 as did the diplomatic intrigues that led Austria and France to enter into an alliance with the czar against Prussia.75 The historiography of the Soviet era is a story in itself. The CHR began to devote attention to the Catholic Church in the Soviet Union in the early 1930s and later published a few articles on the Russian motherland and on the Baltic republics annexed to it, culminating in a study based on the papers of Cardinal Johannes Willebrands related to the foreign policy of John XXIII.76 From a Catholic Truth to the Historian’s Journey During the CHR’s century of life, approximately 8 percent of its articles have been dedicated to the papacy and its political presence in the European theater. Some 5 percent of the articles deal with questions of later contributions were those of James J. Zatko, “History and the Catholic University of Lublin,” CHR, 48 (1961–62), 199–205, and Neal Pease, “The ‘Unpardonable Insult’: The Wawel Incident of 1937 and Church-State Relations in Poland,” CHR, 77 (1991), 422–36. 72. Alan J. Reinerman, “Metternich, Pope Gregory XVI, and Revolutionary Poland, 1831–1842,” CHR, 86 (2000), 603–19; Brian Porter, “Thy Kingdom Come: Patriotism, Prophecy, and the Catholic Hierarchy in Nineteenth-Century Poland,” CHR, 89 (2003), 213–39; and the most recent development in James Ramon Felak, “Pope John Paul II, the Saints, and Communist Poland: The Papal Pilgrimages of 1979 and 1983,” CHR, 100 (2014), 555–74. 73. C. Toumanoff, “Moscow the Third Rome: Genesis and Significance of a PoliticoReligious Idea,” CHR, 40 (1954–55), 411–47. 74. Earlier the CHR had published James T. Flynn, “The Role of the Jesuits in the Politics of Russian Education, 1801–1820,” CHR, 56 (1970–71), 249–65; more recently, Jonathan R. Seiling, “The Political and Polemical Motives of Johann Fabri’s Moscouitarum Religio (1525–26),” CHR, 94 (2008), 653–70. 75. L. Jay Oliva, “A Religious Aside in Eighteenth-Century Politics,” CHR, 49 (1963– 64), 210–13. 76. Edmund A. Walsh, “The Catholic Church in Present-Day Russia,” CHR, 18 (1932), 177–204; Dennis J. Dunn, “Stalinism and the Catholic Church during the Era of World War II,” CHR, 59 (1973–74), 404–28; for a synthesis of the literature, see Vello Salo, “The Catholic Church in Estonia, 1918–2001,” CHR, 88 (2002), 281–92; Karim Schelkens, “Vatican Diplomacy after the Cuban Missile Crisis: New Light on the Release of Josyf Slipyj,” CHR, 98 (2011), 679–712. ALBERTO M ELLONI 141 reforms and their consequences in Europe from the sixteenth century onward. An identical percentage has been dedicated to questions of the history of theological doctrines, with significant coverage being devoted to Jansenism and modernism, and to a far lesser degree to the most feared idea of “Gallican” tendencies in the national churches.77 Yet a lower percentage of papers has been devoted to studies on the councils, on the liturgy,78 on the Bible and its translations,79 on the religious orders and their members, on missionary questions, and on social history. Many of these themes (papacy, councils, ecumenism, hagiography, orders) are discussed elsewhere in this issue; therefore, they will not be treated in depth here. 1. Obsessions and Fears In sharp contrast to these comparatively low percentages, what is striking is the 100 or so articles—more than a quarter of the CHR’s entire content—dedicated to methodological questions, to the discipline of historiography and its exponents, and to the review of trends in historical research. There have been two approaches to these questions. Carl Wittke’s essay on the fortieth anniversary of the CHR80 reflected a shift in the journal’s direction: prior to its effort to define the stature of the historian who is a Catholic, attention had been concentrated on the duty of the Catholic who is a historian. Numerous pages, footnotes, and implicit exhortations ask him (her is rare) to conform to, and if possible foster, a philosophy of history that campaigns with religious zeal against the modern “heresies” of positivism and historical materialism.81 When it was a question of defining the “Spirit of The Catholic Historical Review” in its first number, Bishop Thomas Shahan insisted on history as a Catholic’s birthright, his “natural inheritance.”82 What he presents in his introduction will stand for a long time: Leo XIII’s “opening” of minds and archives did endorse the use of history as apologetic proof (was not 77. Richard J. Schiefen, “Anglo-Gallicanism in Nineteenth-Century England,” CHR, 73 (1977), 14–44. 78. See, for example, Susan V. Nicassio, “. . . For the Benefit of My Soul: A Preliminary Study of the Persistence of Tradition in Eighteenth-Century Mass Obligations,” CHR, 78 (1992), 175–96. 79. See, for example, Anne M. O’Donnell, “Four Histories for the Forthcoming Fourth Centenary of the King James Version, 1611–2011,” CHR, 90 (2004), 719–23. 80. Wittke, “CHR—Forty Years.” 81. For a retread of the classic theme of nostalgia for the Middle Ages, see H. H. Coulson, “Mediaevalism in the Modern World,” CHR, 26 (1940–41), 421–32. 82. It comes from the very beginning, as it appears in Thomas J. Shahan, “Introductory: The Spirit of CHR,” and Cardinal James Gibbons, “Foreword,” CHR, 1 (1915), 5–12. 142 FROM A CATHOLIC IDENTITY TO AN AMERICAN VIEW this the purpose of Alfred Loisy’s petit livre rouge?). Yet it was just this discipline that immediately incurred suspicion and made fields of research (e.g., those of classical antiquity and the history of dogma) the target of the Church’s repression of modernism.83 During the pontificate of Benedict XV, the role of the historian required a continuous epistemological validation, whether it was a case of describing the tendencies of the new American historicism84 or reviewing, with due admiration, the great comprehensive editions of the primary Christian sources associated with the Bollandists85 (which historical research in the United States would keep at arm’s length). For the first three priest-editors and readers of the CHR, in fact, the status of Catholic historical research was to be gauged, authenticated, and endorsed by its conformity to a Catholic philosophy of history—and the CHR wanted to be the exemplar. That is why it was easier for the historian to speak of European than of American history: a “methodological quietism” displaces the issues, and on “far” and “old” European topics, it is (presumably) much easier to be “balanced” and to express the moral presumption of being able to renounce “prejudices.” It is an approach that also depends on the consciousness that history is not only research on American Catholicism but also a central teaching of the American paideia, a teaching that should be (and was) reflected on,86 and for which Catholic historians were called on to search in the European historiographic tradition for some model,87 some method, some proof, such as to enable American Catholi83. See Paul Colin, L’audace et le soupcon: La crise moderniste dans le catholicisme francais (1893–1914) (Paris, 1997). 84. Patrick J. Healy, “Recent Activities of Catholic Historians,” CHR, 8 (1922), 169– 79, and Henry Ignatius Smith, “Benedict XV and the Historical Basis for Thomistic Study,” CHR, 7 (1921), 55–61; the effort made here to reconnect Giacomo Della Chiesa, Benedict XV (the pope of WWI), with previous currents in the Church is not accidental. 85. For the Bollandists, cf. Aurelio Palmieri, “The Bollandists,” CHR, 9 (1923), 341– 57, and “The Bollandists: The Period of Trial,” CHR, 9 (1924), 517–29; on the Abbey of Grottaferrata, cf. G. Croce, La badia greca di Grottaferrata e la rivista «Roma e l’Oriente: Cattolicesimo e ortodossia fra unionismo ed ecumenismo (1799–1923) (Rome, 1990). For the Monumenta Germaniae Historica, William Miller T. Gamble, “The ‘Monumenta Germaniae Historica’: Its Antecedents and Motives,” CHR, 10 (1924), 202–33. 86. It is no accident that a signature familiar from the first number of the review should recur here: Thomas Joseph Shahan, “The Higher Education of the Catholic Clergy (1800– 1927),” CHR, 14 (1928), 38–54. 87. Cf. Charles Hallan McCarthy, “The Importance of Stresses and Omissions in the Writing of American History,” CHR, 10 (1924), 27–46; G. B. Stratemeier, “The Vatican School of Paleography, Diplomatics and Archivistics,” CHR, 15 (1929), 63–71; and George Stebbing, “Points of View in Teaching History,” CHR, 15 (1929), 252–61. ALBERTO M ELLONI 143 cism to speak not of itself, but that part of itself of which the traces are to be found elsewhere—namely, in distant Europe. That, in short, is how the great examples of a European “elsewhere” have come to be proposed in the CHR; an “elsewhere” in which the great apologists were interpreted “as historians”—as they are in the first article of J. F. Leibell (1926) on Newman,88 and in those dedicated by Charles L. Souvay to Antoine Frédéric Ozanam (1933)89 and by Patrick H. Barry to Jacques Bénigne Bossuet (1934).90 It is an “elsewhere” whose heroes and series have been solemnly celebrated in obituaries, stretching from Baron Ludwig von Pastor, whose history of the papacy seemed to Felix Fellner a monument91 to be praised for its ability to honor the truth of the facts, up to Cardinal Francis Aidan Gasquet (archivist of the Vatican Secret Archives), who was defended in the year of his death by his fellow Benedictine, Dom Adrian Morey, from the fierce attacks by G. G. Coulton, professor of medieval history at the University of Cambridge, regarding the cardinal’s (weak) historical works.92 This line includes Henri Brémond, former Jesuit and restless historian of literature (author of the Histoire littéraire du sentiment religieux en France, Paris, 1916–36), a favorite butt of the antimodernist campaign. Georgiana P. McEntee composed an obituary for him that could claim to be “balanced” but failed to grasp the deeper implications of Brémond’s attempt to read into the literary sources a reality in which theological essentialism had discouraged Catholic research.93 2. Avoiding the Great Damage What Wittke called a “disservice to historical truth” in 1957 and Ellis in 1970 termed a “grave damage to Catholic scholarship” in the field of history was a resisting tendency in the guiding “philosophy” of the CHR in the 1930s. Occasionally this yielded to the glorification of erudition as a 88. J. F. Leibell, “Newman as an Ecclesiastical Historian,” CHR, 11 (1926), 645–52. 89. Charles L. Souvay, “Ozanam as Historian,” CHR, 19 (1933), 1–16. 90. Patrick J. Barry, “Bossuet’s ‘Discourse on Universal History,’” CHR, 20 (1934), 260–80. 91. Felix Fellner, “Ludwig von Pastor, the Historian of the Popes,” CHR, 15 (1929), 154–70; Pastor’s magnum opus was later reviewed by Alfred Kaufmann, CHR, 20 (1934), 295. 92. Adrian Morey, “Cardinal Gasquet the Historian,” CHR, 15 (1929), 262–74; on the controversy that enveloped the cardinal, cf. Ernest Wilson Nicholson, A Century of Theological and Religious Studies in Britain (New York, 2003), p. 172ff. Morey’s defense is one that he would make elsewhere in subsequent years to defend the memory of his venerated mentor and prior of Downside Abbey; see, for example, The Catholic Herald, March 24, 1939, p. 5. 93. Georgiana P. McEntee, “In Memoriam: Henri Brémond (1865–1933),” CHR, 19 (1933), 333–35. 144 FROM A CATHOLIC IDENTITY TO AN AMERICAN VIEW virtue in itself, as happened in 1934 on the death of Franz Ehrle, a Jesuit of immense scrupulousness who had participated in the opening of the Vatican Secret Archives and later served as its prefect; in his obituary, Raphael M. Huber praised the exemplary rigor of Ehrle’s scholarship.94 The obsession with the philosophy of history also sought references in historical research on modern Europe, such as those studies on Giambattista Vico that had long formed part of the American reverberations of the historiographical debate between Benedetto Croce and Giovanni Gentile.95 The CHR, in this connection, reveals a Catholicism that was under pressure but that did not participate in the “culture of crisis” that in Europe had prompted historians to study the Council of Trent, heresies, and reforms. For Joseph Schrembs, for example, historiography was a way of justifying the public role of Catholicism. It was the means to demonstrate the spiritual dimension and the ability of the believing soul to “dominate” individual and collective instincts that are destructive to civilization.96 An apologetic trace of Jacques Maritain remains in the concept of “perspective”—“What historian is there that does not possess a perspective? Such a possession is for him his very license to be an historian”97—and was disseminated, not least in the United States, thanks to the reading of Maritain’s Freedom in the Modern World (London, 1935). In this book there were none of the torments that rack the readers of reviews in their response to a Catholic sui generis like Giovanni Battista Montini, but rather reflected the verve of Gilbert Keith Chesterton.98 Until the end of the war, readers of the CHR were invited to reflect on what it is that is specific to the Catholic historian while waiting for a volte94. Raphael M. Huber, “Francis Cardinal Ehrle, S.J., 1845–1934: In Memoriam,” CHR, 20 (1934), 175–84; on his position in WWI, see L. Scherzberg and A. H. LeugersScherzberg, “The First World War and Catholic Theology in Germany,” Concilium, 50 (2014), 153–60. 95. Paul C. Perrotta, “Giambattista Vico, Philosopher-Historian,” CHR, 20 (1934), 384–410; P. Kiniery, “Will History Repeat?” CHR, 30 (1944–45), 371–81. On the question, see further G. Galasso, “Introduzione,” in Il contributo italiano alla storia del pensiero: Storia e politica, ed. G. Galasso (Rome, 2013), 1–100. 96. Joseph Schrembs, “The Catholic Philosophy of History,” CHR, 20 (1934), 1–22; similarly, Michael Williams, “The Contemporary Crisis in Thought and the Historian,” CHR, 20 (1935), 349–70. 97. D. Sargent, “The Perspective of the Historian of Today,” CHR, 22 (1936–37), 387–94; R. J. S. Hoffman, “Catholicism and Historismus,” CHR, 24 (1938–39), 401–12. 98. Chesterton is the last citation in Daniel Sargent’s presidential address, “The Perspective of the Historian of Today.” On Montini, see Fulvio De Giorgi, Mons. Montini (Bologna, 2013). ALBERTO MELLONI 145 face—the transformation of the historian who happens to be Catholic into the “Catholic who is a historian by profession”—to arrive by other ways. M. R. Madden examined the “new program” of Catholic historians in a paper in 1936–37, whereas G. B. Flahiff raised the fundamental problem of how a “Catholic looks at history” in 1942.99 Both papers tackle the problem of how a moral judgment on history, including European history, may be of benefit to the Catholic presence in the United States.100 3. Out of the Catholic Ghetto By the end of World War II, the Catholic historian had moved beyond the philosophy of history by which he had hitherto been confined to a ghetto (as Ellis had so clearly diagnosed) to a new field related to European topics and approaches, be they those of nationalism,101 legal history,102 the history of ideas,103 or colonial ideologies.104 Major historical enterprises offered the occasion for some wider reflections on historical method, and in the years of Ellis’s departure from the scene, the perennial models of the Society of Jesus’s erudition or the culture of Ludovico Antonio Muratori were then proposed as timeless examples.105 With the onset of the conciliar and postconciliar period, the CHR’s participation in the European debate on historical method changed radically: the new Catholicism taught by the Second Vatican Council reshuffled the cards and linked intellectual worlds that had hitherto been far apart.106 This can immediately be grasped in the great programmatic review articles published by the CHR, such as that of the still-young Jesuit John O’Malley on trends in church history, which was more than ever conscious of the 99. M. R. Madden, “A New Program for Catholic Historians,” CHR, 22 (1936–37), 426–32; G. B. Flahiff, “A Catholic Looks at History,” CHR, 27 (1941–42), 1–15. 100. O. Halecki, “The Moral Law of History,” CHR, 42 (1956–57), 409–40. 101. C. J. H. Hayes, “The Church and Nationalism—A Plea for Further Studies of a Major Issue,” CHR, 28 (1942–43), 1–12. 102. Stephan Kuttner, “Legal History: The Case for a Neglected Field of Studies,” CHR, 44 (1958–59), 409–20. 103. Albert C. Outler, “History as an Ecumenical Resource: The Protestant Discovery of ‘Tradition,’ 1952–1963,” CHR, 59 (1973–74), 1–15. 104. Ann M. Pescatello, “The Leyenda Negra and the African in Sixteenth- and Seventeenth-Century Iberian Thought,” CHR, 66 (1980), 169–83. 105. M. P. Harney, “Jesuit Writers of History,” CHR, 26 (1940–41), 433–46; F. Engel-Janosi, “Chateaubriand as an Historical Writer,” CHR, 33 (1947–48), 385–422; Eric Cochrane, “Muratori: The Vocation of a Historian,” CHR, 51 (1965–66), 153–72. 106. This was the theme of the presidential address of Merle Curti, “Intellectuals and Other People,” The American Historical Review, 60 (1955), 259–82. 146 FROM A CATHOLIC IDENTITY TO AN AMERICAN VIEW altered theoretical and practical paradigms of recent research on the Church in “early modern studies.”107 In Europe, two prominent Catholic historians, Hubert Jedin and Giuseppe Alberigo, debated this question: which academic discipline dictates how the history of the Church should be pursued? Alberigo of the Bologna School insisted that history itself defined the Church, whereas his Silesian mentor defended the thesis that theology tells the historian what the Church is. This debate was proposed anew by Eric Cochrane in two important contributions: one on what is meant by Catholic historiography, the other on trends in research on the controversialist Cesare Baronio.108 James Hennesey, a historian known in Europe for his valuable history of the American Church published in the late 1980s, looked for “footprints” of Catholicism with a similar intention.109 Even when it is à la page in France, the CHR remains prudent in its coverage of social history and the history of the immaterial; only through the French Catholic historian Jean Delumeau did the CHR’s readers find an echo of these trends as late as the 1990s.110 Not by accident, Delumeau himself was commissioned to write a memoir that, in the Journeys in Church History series that includes contributions by John O’Malley and Margaret Lavinia Anderson, helps to elucidate the journey of a historian via his or her spiritual and academic experiences.111 These essays gave further proof of an attention to the Parisian school of church history, of which the book reviews in the CHR had already given ample evidence, even with the benevolent approbation of works not always destined to prove immortal.112 4. Review Articles Modern and contemporary Europe is not only the object of meticulous historical research for the CHR or of dialogue with the historiographic debates that have accompanied it. Ever since its foundation, the CHR has offered readers and members of the ACHA regular updates of current lit107. John W. O’Malley, “Recent Studies in Church History, 1300–1600,” CHR, 55 (1969–70), 394–437. 108. Eric Cochrane, “What Is Catholic Historiography?” CHR, 61 (1975), 469–90, and Cochrane, “Caesar Baronius and the Counter-Reformation,” CHR, 66 (1980), 53–58. 109. James Hennesey, “No More Than ‘Footprints in Time’? Church History and Catholic Christianity,” CHR, 73 (1987), 185–94. 110. Robert Bireley, “Two Works by Jean Delumeau,” CHR, 77 (1991), 78–88. 111. John W. O’Malley, “My Life of Learning,” CHR, 93 (2007), 576–88; Jean Delumeau, “The Journey of a Historian,” CHR, 96 (2010), 435–48; and the even more personal Margaret Lavinia Anderson, “Confessions of a Fellow Traveler,” CHR, 99 (2013), 623–48. 112. Simon Ditchfield, “From Peter to John Paul II,” CHR, 85 (1999), 256–60, and Ditchfield, “Martyrs Are Good to Think With,” CHR, 87 (2001), 470–73. ALBERTO MELLONI 147 erature on the subject, and not only in the form of book reviews but also a mare magnum structured by Peter Guilday himself, which has gained in authoritativeness and sometimes lost its timeliness. Being reviewed by the CHR has become one of the aspirations—not a fear, the stroncature being rare—of authors who write in a language other than English (not all reviewed with the same intensity) on the history of contemporary Europe. The most monumental editions of sources are followed for decades, or presented in their comprehensive results, from the article dedicated by Robert Lechat to the vast Bollandist enterprise of the Acta Sanctorum113 up to Frank Coppa’s analysis of the critical edition of the diaries of the future John XXIII.114 The same is true for the great syntheses, such as the Catholic encyclopedias or the great “histories” of Christianity, ranging from the Kirchengeschichte directed by Jedin to the Histoire du Christianisme launched by Charles Pietri.115 Most of these assessments try to contextualize the evolution of a historiographic problem (if reviewed, often welcomed, more rarely dismissed) with an empirical approach to the results. In this respect, close to the tradition of Anglo-Saxon historiography, the CHR generally avoids the conventional “categories,” or periodizations, popular in southern European scholarship. When it discusses them, it does so on the basic of pragmatic considerations: when the “Renaissance,” understood as the herald of modernity, is subjected to recapitulations of the literature from the Fifties onward;116 and when the “unintended Reformation” in its secularizing consequences is portrayed with a wide range of opinions,117 which can be compared with the articles on Martin Luther, published in or around the anniversaries of the German reformer, that con113. Robert Lechat, “Les ‘Acta Sanctorum’ des Bollandistes,” CHR, 6 (1920), 334–42; Patrick A. Collins, “The Preface of the ‘Acta Sanctorum,’” CHR, 6 (1920), 294–307; the hagiographic theme is also present in John Howe, “Saints and Society through the Centuries,” CHR, 72 (1986), 425–36. 114. See the review article “The National Edition of the Diaries of Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli / Pope John XXIII: A Bibliographical Essay,” CHR, 97 (2011), 81–92; on Roncalli, Robert Trisco accepted also an article at the beginning of the firsthand research on that pope; see Alberto Melloni, “Pope John XXIII: Open Questions for a Biography,” CHR, 72 (1986), 51–67. 115. Martin R. P. McGuire, “The Completion of the New German Catholic Encyclopedia,” CHR, 42 (1966–67), 391–95; Joseph N. Moody, “A Historian Looks at the New Catholic Encyclopedia,” CHR, 53 (1967–68), 372–92. 116. H. S. Lucas, “The Renaissance: A Review of Some Views,” CHR, 35 (1949–50), 377–407. 117. See the Forum essay on the book of Brad S. Gregory, The Unintended Reformation: How a Religious Revolution Secularized Society, CHR, 98 (2012), 503–16, esp. the dialogue among Nelson H. Minnich, Joshua Benson, Hans J. Hillerbrand, Simon Ditchfield, Paul F. Grendler, and Gregory himself. 148 FROM A CATHOLIC IDENTITY TO AN AMERICAN VIEW tributed to radical ecumenical redefinition of the CHR’s “confessional” profile.118 The national specifics of the post-Tridentine world are touched on in the section of review articles only in the already-cited articles of Cochrane (1970) and other supplements to them, and more important in the perceptive analysis of historiographic trends in the literature on reform and reformation in Italy offered by O’Malley in 1971.119 What is novel in the pages of the CHR at the end of the twentieth century is the new approach to contemporary European Christianity. If changes may be found also in the study of previously mentioned exemplary figures,120 or crucial passages and more recent trends such as gender studies,121 the most delayed and sharp shift is in the study of European modernism. It has only been since the 1970s that has it been discussed without the need to apologize for its breach with the past, as it is “natural” for a review founded when Pius X called it “heresy.”122 On related topics, like the Catholic movement of the early-twentieth century, the CHR did not follow the fluctuations of Italian historiography.123 118. Jared Wicks, “Luther after 500 Years,” CHR, 71 (1985), 65–75; Mark U. Edwards, “Lutherschmähung? Catholics on Luther’s Responsibility for the Peasant’s War,” CHR, 76 (1990), 461–80. 119. John W. O’Malley, “Reform and Reformation in Italy: Four Recent Books,” CHR, 57 (1971–72), 629–35; Robert Bireley, “Early-Modern Catholicism as a Response to the Changing World of the Long Sixteenth-Century,” CHR, 95 (2009), 219–39. 120. Lawrence D. McIntosh, “An Unpublished Letter of John Henry Newman,” CHR, 59 (1973–74), 429–33; John Griffin, “Newman’s Difficulties Felt by Anglicans: History or Propaganda?” CHR, 69 (1983), 371–83; Joseph L. Altholz, “Daniel O’Connell and the Dublin Review,” CHR, 74 (1988), 1–12. 121. See Joseph N. Moody, “The Third Republic and the Church: A Case History of Three French Historians,” CHR, 66 (1980), 1–15. It is relevant that in recent years articles on topics in women’s studies have dealt also with contemporary Europe; see Helena Dawes, “The Catholic Church and the Woman Question: Catholic Feminism in Italy in the Early 1900s,” CHR, 97 (2011), 484–526; Anette Lippold, “Sisterly Advice and Eugenic Education: The Katholische Deutsche Frauenbund and German Catholic Marriage Counseling in the 1920s and 1930s,” CHR, 100 (2014), 52–71; Emily Machen, “French Women and the Global Fight for Faith: Catholic International Religious Outreach in Turn-of-the-Century France,” CHR, 100 (2014), 292–318. 122. F. Broderick, “New Light on Modernism: A Review Article,” CHR, 67 (1971– 72), 442–46; Peter Iver Kaufman, “Unnatural Sympathies? Acton and Döllinger on the Reformation,” CHR, 70 (1984), 547–59; Terrence Murphy, “Lord Acton and the Question of Moral Judgement in History: The Development of His Position,” CHR, 70 (1984), 225–49; Lawrence Barmann, “Friedrich von Hügel as Modernist and as More Than Modernist,” CHR, 75 (1989), 211–32; Harvey Hill, “Leo XIII, Loisy, and the ‘Broad School’: An Early Round of the Modernist Crisis,” CHR, 89 (2003), 39–59. 123. Alan J. Reinerman, “The Rise of the Italian Catholic Movement in Recent Scholarship,” CHR, 59 (1973–74), 60–64. ALBERTO MELLONI 149 The most heated historical and theological controversies have been often studied through review articles—such as those relating to celibacy in the Latin Church, family morality,124 conscientious objection,125 theological aggiornamento, ecumenism,126 and the papacy in the postconciliar period.127 More particularly, studies on antisemitism and the Shoah have come to occupy an important space in the CHR, most of them tending to defend the good done by the Catholic Church during the attempted Nazi genocide, which a public ignorant of the Bible persisted in calling “holocaust.”128 In this field the article of Robert Burns, published by the CHR in 1984, is especially important. Borrowing a medievalist definition (which is reflected in Jeremy Cohen’s important book The Friars and the Jews: The Evolution of Medieval Anti-Judaism (Ithaca, NY, 1982), Burns drew a distinction between antisemitism —namely, the hate enshrined in “biological” race theories of the Nazis—and anti-Judaism—namely, the hate based on “theological” reasons—which is alleged to be “curable” because of its “pure” religious foundation. Such a distinction has enjoyed great success both in public discourse and in historical analysis. But precisely because it does not consider the concrete facts and because it does not start from them, the distinction risks a scenario in which distinguishing between two crimes, one political and the other theological, turns the theological deviation into a virtue.129 124. Kathryn A. Johnson, “A Question of Authority: Friction in the Catholic Family Life Movement, 1948–1962,” CHR, 86 (2000), 217–41, an article wide in scope. 125. Patricia McNeal, “Catholic Conscientious Objection during World War II,” CHR, 61 (1975), 222–42. 126. Victor Conzemius, “Otto Karrer (1888–1976): Theological Forerunner of Aggiornamento,” CHR, 75 (1989), 55–72; for the position of the CHR in the early days of the movement, cf. Leonard Bacigalupo, “The Pan-Christian Movement,” CHR, 27 (1941– 42), 316–31. 127. Ludvik Nemec, “The Festive Profile of Francis Dvornik, the Scholar, the Historian, and the Ecumenist,” CHR, 59 (1973–74), 185–211; Alphons M. Stickler, “A New History of Papal Legislation on Celibacy,” CHR, 65 (1979), 76–84; Richard Francis Crane, “La Croix and the Swastika: The Ambiguities of Catholic Responses to the Fall of France,” CHR, 90 (2004), 45–66; Frank J. Coppa, “The Contemporary Papacy from Paul VI to Benedict XVI: A Bibliographical Essay,” CHR, 92 (2006), 597–608. 128. Thomas P. Anderson, “Édouard Drumont and the Origins of Modern AntiSemitism,” CHR, 53 (1967–68), 28–42; John Sullivan, “Newly Refound Transfer Document of Edith Stein,” CHR, 81 (1995), 398–402; Konrad Repgen, “Connecting the Church and the Shoah,” CHR, 88 (2002), 546–53; Richard Francis Crane, “Jacques Maritain, the Mystery of Israel, and the Holocaust,” CHR, 95 (2009), 24–56. Crane is also the author of a book devoted to the French philosopher who was for a long while an American immigrant, Passion of Israel: Jacques Maritain, Catholic Conscience and the Holocaust (Scranton, PA, 2010). 129. Robert I. Burns, “Anti-Semitism and Anti-Judaism in Christian History,” CHR, 20 (1984), 90–93. For more on this problem, see the Forum essay on John Connelly’s From Enemy to Brother: The Revolution in Catholic Teaching on the Jews, 1933–1965 CHR, 98 150 FROM A CATHOLIC IDENTITY TO AN AMERICAN VIEW Questions and Syntheses North Americans scholars and increasingly other historians have also chosen the CHR for debating long historical processes and issues;130 thus they were involved in three major trends in the journal’s studies of contemporary Europe. 1. The European Horizon The first trend deals with the very collocation of Europe in relation to the American cultural horizon in a way that was reflected in the historical treatment of the Church. The CHR was born in the aftermath of the Vatican’s condemnation of Americanism and in the midst of the effort of American Catholics to gain credit in U.S. society as full-fledged citizens with all the rights and duties that flow from the Constitution. The CHR plotted with its articles this intellectual trajectory with the precision of a seismograph. Thus studies that regard specific zones of Europe and specific periods (first Ireland and England of the nineteenth century, then Germany and Italy of the early-twentieth century) are treated in the CHR as if they were a cultural matrix that have affected the character of American Catholicism, which remains the paramount focus of interest. Another point of view seeks, via the Spain and England of the Tridentine and post-Tridentine period, the matrices of a Catholicism that would later influence the plantatio of American Catholicism, either at the purely theological level or as the outreach of missionary pressures emanating from Europe. (2012), 751–66, as well as the study of what is called “philosemitism” in different areas in Brenna Moore, “Philosemitism under a Darkening Sky: Judaism in the French Catholic Revival (1900–45),” CHR, 99 (2013), 262–97. 130. For example, see the memorable dispute between Brian Tierney and Alphons M. Stickler on the Origins of Papal Infallibility (Leiden, 1972) that appears in CHR, 60 (1974), 427–41, and CHR, 61 (1975), 265–73. It undoubtedly concerns the history of medieval canon law, but its implications for an interpretation of the First Vatican Council’s dogma of infallibility are equally clear: works like those of Bernhard Hasler, Wie der Papst unfehlbar wurde: Macht und Ohnmacht eines Dogmas, 2nd ed. (Munich, 1981), and Hans Küng, Unfehlbar? Eine Anfrage (Zürich, 1970), had in fact opened a discussion based on the (false) idea that Vatican I had “created” a dogma that extended the pope’s power rather than regulated an already existing prerogative, putting in place such strict curbs on its exercise as to have prevented the magisterium thereafter from making use of it and forced the theology of the magisterium of Pope Benedict XVI to attempt in vain to extend its application. G. Ruggieri, “La politica dottrinale della curia romana nel postconcilio,” Cristianesimo nella storia, 21 (2000), 103–31. ALBERTO M ELLONI 151 At the intersection of these two aspects we find those problems that have been made significant by historicism in its full sense, by the general flux of historiographic trends (the Renaissance, social history) and by the monumental editions of the sources, or the great works of historical synthesis.131 This is almost as if to say that the historiography of Catholics, and of the Catholics who write for the CHR, emerges slowly—but definitely—from the constant need to justify its own legitimacy, in relation not to its method but to its audience. And this, as we have seen, forces everyone to a continuous reassessment of a question on the status of an academic discipline that can be gauged neither by the arrogance of the post-Hegelian historicism of German origin nor by the post-Crocean or post-Braudelian historicism as it came from Italy or France. In this respect closer to the Anglo-Saxon school of history and the great masters of Cambridge, the CHR has entered into dialogue far less with the philosophy of history of European derivation (not a hint of succumbing to the fascination of historical materialism over this past century) and even less with the theology of the Franco-German school (which succeeds in someone like Yves Congar to unify inconfuse the two natures of historian and theologian into a single person). The aim of a clear-cut and direct historical narrative, the CHR seems to imply, is not to construct an “exotic aesthetic” of Europe and still less to limit with faux rhetorical precision the field of study to the little plot circumscribed by one’s own ignorance or one’s own laziness, but rather to furnish the educated reader with a clear, comprehensible, and limited text. 2. The Line That Divides Modern and Contemporary No less significant is the way the CHR has lifted (or lowered) the line of the contemporary period, so as to make what was too close an object for historical study. When “contemporary” times begin exactly is a conventional line: it has been pushed backward or brought forward, especially when what are being studied are not local situations, or archives and communities situated closely together, but a wider world such as that of Old Europe. Alien from the German divisions of time that have entered into use in European textbooks (ancient, medieval, modern, contemporary history), the CHR initially called “modern” the world that the papacy in the nineteenth century condemned in the Syllabus of Errors. A choice that coincides with the fact 131. With the exception of History of Vatican II, dir. Giuseppe Alberigo, Engl. trans. ed. J. Komonchak, 5 vols. (Maryknoll, 1995–2004). 152 FROM A CATHOLIC IDENTITY TO AN AMERICAN VIEW that the theoretical discussion of the great periodizations of history has become interesting for Americans only after Hans Baron (a pupil of Ernst Troeltsch) had enunciated his idea of an Early Renaissance (in his case The Crisis of the Early Italian Renaissance: Civic Humanism and Republican Liberty in an Age of Classicism and Tyranny, Princeton, 1955), which recalls what the history of European art had already in the early-twentieth century identified as “late” Renaissance and which the religious history of the end of the century called “early modern.”132 For the church historian, the core of this discussion is whether or not to split the post-Tridentine era, and in such a debate the consensus doctorum americanorum that was formed in the 1960s follows the European trends. As a consequence, the “historical distance”—namely, the divide from the “present” that is vital for the scholar—has changed impressively. At the start of its life the CHR also had to inform its own readers of the teachings of the Holy See in those spheres that might have an influence on their study and research. Nor did it hesitate in the 1930s to provide wide-ranging information on the contemporary situation of the churches in the individual countries of Europe.133 At the same time, however, it has hesitated to historicize the great doctrinal conflicts of the past related to an untouchable “history of dogma,” and it has not flinched from studying the dynamics of the Catholic movements in the nineteenth century.134 132. The title adopted for the Festschrift in honor of John O’Malley was Early Modern Catholicism, ed. Kathleen M. Comerford and Hilmar M. Pabel (Toronto, 2001). 133. Edmund A. Walsh, “The Catholic Church in Present-Day Russia,” CHR, 18 (1932), 177–204; Charles L. Souvay, “The Catholic Church in Contemporary France,” CHR, 18 (1932), 205–28; Francis S. Betten, “The Catholic Church in Contemporary Germany,” CHR, 17 (1932), 421–33; Leonid Strakhovsky, “The Church in Contemporary Poland,” CHR, 18 (1932), 328–40; Victor Day, “The Church in Belgium,” CHR, 18 (1932), 297–327; Marie R. Madden, “Status of the Church and Catholic Action in Contemporary Spain,” CHR, 18 (1932), 19–59; Daniel Sargent, “The Catholic Church in Contemporary England,” CHR, 18 (1932), 60–75; James F. Kenney, “The Church in Contemporary Ireland,” CHR, 18 (1932), 159–76; Wilfrid Parsons, “The Church in Contemporary Italy,” CHR, 18 (1932), 1–18. In this pipeline the pope also comes in with John Keating Cartwright, “Contributions of the Papacy to International Peace,” CHR, 14 (1928), 157–68. 134. It does not seem accidental that the CHR’s interventions on the historical present seem to have peaked more or less simultaneously with the campaign of Al Smith and with the papal condemnation of the antidemocratic and antiparliamentary movement L’Action Française (condemned by Pius X in 1913), which reinforced the democratic credibility of American Catholics, as demonstrated by Moorhouse F. X. Millar, “The Origin of Sound Democratic Principles in Catholic Traditions,” CHR, 14 (1928), 113–15. Cf. John A. Ryan, “The Attitude of the Church toward Free Speech,” CHR, 14 (1928), 96–103, and William Franklin Sands, “The Church and Political Government: Historic Phases of the Relations between Church and State,” CHR, 14 (1928), 127–56. ALBERTO MELLONI 153 This attitude changed after the Second Vatican Council. The questions regarding not only the modernist crisis but also the presence of the churches in totalitarian regimes, whether of the fascist or communist varieties, are definitely incorporated into the CHR in 1972.135 In relation to the history of the papacy and its diplomacy,136 the CHR began once again, at the turn of the millennium, to study the history of the almost present day, but only in specific cases did it enter into questions of the international history of the Holy See or aspects of more recent European history.137 It also returned to problems of the past—as in the case of Leonard Feeney’s heretical use of the exclusivist principle (“outside the Church there is no salvation”)—which became an issue of some actuality during the papacy of Benedict XVI.138 An exception to these remarks is the CHR’s response to the Second Vatican Council: the CHR had “participated” in the Council thanks to the involvement of its new editor, Robert Trisco, who had been chosen by Ellis in 1957 as editor and was later appointed consultor of the bishops in Rome.139 Here there was no time lapse, because in 1963 both the question of Christian unity at the Council and the problem of the media vis-à-vis the Second Vatican Council (tackled by such a distinguished exponent of international journalism as Francis Xavier Murphy) made their appearance in the CHR, not indeed as a problem of “European” history but as a proof of the historical fame that the Council had already won. Nevertheless, in tune with the hesitations felt in response to the acceleration impressed by the “adult council” on its own history and in the aftermath of the divorce between Paul VI and the conciliar majority in 1964, the CHR stopped taking a historical interest in the Council for a long time. The studies and reviews of Jared Wicks, as well as those articles that appeared in the first years under the editorship of Nelson H. Minnich, shed new light on the Vatican, refocusing the Council as a subject.140 135. Dennis J. Dunn, “Stalinism and the Catholic Church during the Era of World War II,” CHR, 59 (1973–74), 404–28. 136. See, for example, Winfried Becker, “Diplomats and Missionaries: The Role Played by the German Embassies in Moscow and Rome in the Relations between Russia and the Vatican from 1921 to 1929,” CHR, 92 (2006), 25–45. 137. Vello Salo, “The Catholic Church in Estonia, 1918–2001,” CHR, 88 (2002), 281–92. 138. Patrick W. Carey, “Avery Dulles, St. Benedict’s Center, and No Salvation outside the Church, 1940–1953,” CHR, 93 (2007), 553–75; on the story of the formula, see B. Sesboüé, Hors de l’Eglise, pas de salut: Histoire d’une formule et problèmes d’interprétation (Paris, 2004). 139. Tracy Ellis, “Reflections,” CHR 40 (1954), 468–69. 140. Jared Wicks, “New Light on Vatican Council II,” CHR, 92 (2006), 609–28, “Further Light on Vatican Council II,” CHR, 95 (2009), 546–69, “Still More Light on Vatican 154 FROM A CATHOLIC IDENTITY TO AN AMERICAN VIEW 3. Outdistancing Apologetics Distancing the CHR from confessional obligation was a result achieved after the first forty years of its existence, and it has become a standard in the last thirty years of its life. If in 1925 the CHR had spoken censoriously of Luther only in terms of what he had done “against the Church,”141 from 1983 the German reformer was placed, in the previously cited paper of Iserloh, in the context of the Council of Trent.142 Later, in Wicks’s retrospective (1985) to mark the 500th anniversary of Luther’s birth, he was placed in a historical perspective, purged of any residue of apologetic claims.143 Something similar and comparable to the CHR’s attitude to modernism can be ascertained in its evolving attitude to Jansenism: the question is touched on in an article dedicated to St. Vincent de Paul by B. J. McCoy in 1941 and hence in a clearly defensive perspective.144 It would take until the 1970s before the political repercussions of Jansenism would be studied by Albert Hamscher,145 whereas ten years later it would be the Coimbra variant of Jansenism and the position of Joaquim de Santa Clara, Portuguese Benedictine and bishop of Evora, that would be the subject of an article.146 4. Explicit In a century of history, therefore, the CHR completed a long journey, also in its editorial choices related to “contemporary” Europe. In this process, the dream of a past in which Catholic identity came to grips with Council II,” 98 (2012), 476–502, and “Light from Germany on Vatican Council II,” CHR 99 (2013), 727–48. On the history of the councils of the modern period in general, it is worth noting that Iserloh and Brandmüller, but never Hubert Jedin, have made some contributions to the Councils of Constance, Pavia-Siena and Trent. Later contributions based on private sources have been made by Richard Gribble, C.S.C., “Vatican II and the Church in Uganda: The Contribution of Bishop Vincent J. McCauley, C.S.C.,” CHR, 95 (2009), 718–40. 141. Francis S. Betten, “The Cartoon in Luther’s Warfare against the Church,” CHR, 11 (1925), 252–64. In the previous year the CHR had published a paper on Calvin: F. J. Zwierlein, “What Did Calvin Want of Francis I?” CHR, 9 (1924), 552–60. 142. Erwin Iserloh, “Luther and the Council of Trent,” CHR, 69 (1983), 563–76. 143. Jared Wicks, “Roman Reactions to Luther: The First Year (1518),” CHR, 69 (1983), 521–62; Wicks, “Luther after 500 Years,” CHR, 71 (1985), 65–75; Edwards, “Lutherschmähung.” 144. B. J. McCoy, “St. Vincent de Paul’s Letters on Jansenism,” CHR, 27 (1941–42), 442–49. 145. Albert N. Hamscher, “The Parlement of Paris and the Social Interpretation of Early French Jansenism,” CHR, 73 (1977), 392–410. 146. Samuel J. Miller, “Dom Frei Joaquim de Santa Clara (1740–1818) and Later Portuguese Jansenism,” CHR, 69 (1983), 20–40. ALBERTO MELLONI 155 its own academic and theological refoundation in the New World was gradually opened up to a wider perspective. It was a view that first defended an ontological link between a Catholic philosophy of history and historical research. It then adapted itself to Piet Fransen’s principle (“If one wants to be a good theologian, he can never know Church history too well”147) and in the end, thanks to Ellis, repudiated that link and recognized that an apologetic intention in the history of the Church renders a poor service both to history and to the Church. In this journey, which represents the expression of the conviction that the historian as well as other “intellectuals” have a vital part to play in the emergence of American Catholicism from the ghetto mentality,148 the exploration of the more recent European history and historiography has played a crucial role: it has forced contributors to the CHR to compete not only with scholars of American history little inclined to give much thought or attach much significance to religious history, but also with a religious historiography of European derivation that has moved from the positivistic historicism of Droysenian stamp to the histoire des mentalitées of the French school. It is a journey, above all, that has qualified the readers and the authors of the CHR, from historians who had to prove themselves to be “Catholic enough,” from Catholics who had to demonstrate that they were “American enough,” they became American Catholics who are, by profession, American historians. Namely, they are part of a global history that restores to the historian the sacrosanct task that Jedin enunciated in the preface to volume III of his magnum opus on the history of the Council of Trent: that of recounting the impressions produced by historians’ study of the sources. Knowing that the sources, and the things that impress, take into account not the particular faith tradition of the person studying them but rather his or her rigor as a scholar and his or her intellectual chastity, which alone enable him or her to recount in all honesty what the sources can tell us of another present, far removed from us. 147. Piet Fransen, “Episcopal Conferences: Crucial Problem of the Council,” Cross Currents 13 (1963), 361. 148. Not by chance the most committed contribution by John Tracy Ellis is not in the CHR: “American Catholics and Intellectual Life,” Thought 30 (1955), 351–88. Book Reviews GENERAL AND MISCELLANEOUS Catholicism and Historical Narrative: A Catholic Engagement with Historical Scholarship. Edited by Kevin Schmiesing. [Catholic Social Thought, Vol. 8.] (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishing. 2014. Pp. x, 215. $75.00. ISBN 978-0-8180-8857-9.) This collection of nine essays, seven of which are mainly on American history, is preceded by a brief introduction by its editor, Kevin Schmiesing. The opening essay is a thoughtful general piece by Paul Radzilowski on “Audience, Method, Subject, and Faith: Dilemmas of the Catholic Historian.” Radzilowski makes good use of some of Christopher Dawson’s writings and is also in dialogue with one of the most penetrating Catholic historians today, Christopher Shannon. Radzilowski has a number of citations and appreciations of this reviewer’s work, which in turn lists appropriate bibliography. In a very well-done article, “The Opening of the American Mind: Protestant Scholasticism at Harvard, 1636–1700,” Scott McDermott argues that the conventional historiography on the Puritans in America fails to show the depth of their debt to medieval scholasticism. Tom Jodziewicz’s “Dorothy Day, Peter Maurin, and the American Narrative” next shows how Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin are at one and the same time outliers and exemplars of basic American cultural themes. Jodziewicz contrasts the American narrative of freedom and the Catholic Worker narrative of self-imposed discipline in a community bounded by love. He makes astute comments on all the ways in which freedom has been understood in American history. In chapter 4, “‘A Convenient Untruth’: The Pro-Choice Invention of an Era of Abortion Freedom,” Keith Cassidy attempts to correct the narrative of the history of abortion in America. Cassidy is committed to what he calls “objective history” (p. 74). It would have been preferable to distinguish between objective history, which only God can write, and fairness, which means always attempting to tell the truth. Chapter 5, by the son of a well-known student of especially the thought of Christopher Dawson, Clement Anthony Mulloy, examines the story of Margaret Sanger: “Catholicism and Birth Control in American History: The Sanger-[James A.] Ryan Debate. This is a clear-minded and satisfying piece. In chapter 6, “‘Where Religious Freedom Runs in the Streams’: Catholic Expansion in Antebellum Newport,” John F. Quinn shows that Newport was an exception to the common New England pattern of a Catholicism oppressed by Protestantism. Religious diversity made Newport more accepting of Catholics than most other, largely Protestant, New England cities. 147 148 BOOK REVIEWS In chapter 7, Adam Tate, “The Power of Historical Narrative: Bishop John England, American Catholicism, and the National Jubilee of 1826,” takes up Bishop England’s Catholic narrative. The argument is that Americans from the first made up for certain deficiencies originating in the lack of a national identity—no common ancestry, no homogenous ethnicity, no long history, and so forth—by constructing historical narratives. A common nineteenth-century Protestant narrative was that the country had been founded on Protestant principles, which freed humans from superstition and made progress possible. Other narratives, some liberal, some republican, shared features or partly overlapped with the Protestant narrative, but the problem each raised for Catholics was the integration of non-Protestants into such societies. Thus John England formed his Catholic narrative as part of the 1826 celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. Marynita Anderson takes up the relatively neglected story of nineteenth-century religious women in chapter 8, “Valiant Women of Faith and Action: Finding Catholic Sisters in the Story of Nineteenth-Century America.” In the last chapter, “Popes, Catholics, and Jews: É questa la maniera di fare storia?” Ernest Greco examines the controversy concerning the Catholic Church and the European Jews during World War II, sometimes called “The Pius Wars.” The bibliography on this subject is much more extensive than this essay indicates. There is a brief index. GLENN W. OLSEN University of Utah ANCIENT Questions of Gender in Byzantine Society. Edited by Bronwen Neil and Lynda Garland. (Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing. 2013. Pp. xiv, 218. $119.95. ISBN 978-1-4094-4779-5.) Just because a book has “gender” in the title does not mean that it actually does deal with it. Other than a specific topic, “gender” is a theoretical methodology, a way of looking at things and posing questions. Simply writing about women, men, or eunuchs does not necessarily entail that one is doing “gender studies.” Those topics can equally be approached through traditional scholarly methods that may be brought to bear on any aspect of Byzantine history. If gender scholarship is limited to the repetition of certain commonplace formulas or to banal observations about sexual inequality and does not truly bring “the lens of gender to the study of history,” the results may be interesting, to be sure, but do not deepen our understanding of gender in a society. Two basic observations may be made regarding the book under review. First, in spite of the quality of most of the contributions, the volume takes an approach that, with few exceptions, is far from belonging to gender history and that ultimately leads to the conclusion that there was no gendered discourse in Byzantium, not because it truly did not exist but because the contributors are not looking for it where it did. Second, this type of collection of papers is shaped primarily by the BOOK REVIEWS 149 choice of contributors and their prior interests, and not by an editorial logic that would prioritize theoretical relevance and thematic coherence. Two contributions (Paul Brown and Bronwyn Neil) deal with Western views of Byzantine men and women. The first relates to the military presence of Byzantium in Italy (eighth to eleventh centuries) and the second relates to the image of the empress Eirene (797–802) in various literary texts, primarily Western. In both cases the authors conclude that gender plays a secondary role in the political and cultural confrontation between the Byzantines and the Latins and that the main issue at hand was, in the first case, a denunciation of the “treachery and cunning” of the Byzantines and, in the second case, Eirene’s Iconophile policies (whether viewed positively or negatively). The chapter by Diana Gilliland Wright takes the inverse approach by looking at Byzantine views of Western women, namely Sophia of Montferrat and Cleofe Malatesta who came to Byzantium to marry the sons of Manuel II Palaiologos and tries to understand why they were treated so differently. A series of chapters on aspects of the lives of women in Byzantium constitutes the core of the book. Lynda Garland presents family strategies of investment in monasticism, by examining, through the Typika, the transformation of monasteries into alternative family households, especially on the initiative of aristocratic women. Amelia R. Brown presents the “highlights” of the education of women throughout the whole of Byzantine history. Sarah Gador-Whyte studies the masculine and feminine qualities that hymnographers attribute to the Virgin during the sixth and seventh centuries. Liz James presents the genealogical tree of many women of the family of Constantine the Great, their role in the creation and cultivation of political alliances, and the way in which their representation changed with every fluctuation in political circumstances. For his part, Shaun Tougher discusses men and eunuchs in Byzantium and underlines the importance of beards in defining manhood after the seventh century. Tougher regards the general preference for beards as “a sign of the increasing Hellenisation and Christianisation of the empire and also a sign of a desire to enhance masculinity, perhaps in response to a sense of political and military crisis” (p. 161). The volume closes with the contribution of Damian Casey that is also the most interesting when it comes to the actual issue of gender. In this very stimulating paper, Casey examines various Christian readings of gender, the body, and sexuality, underlining the ambivalence of those terms and the complex relationship that they had with spiritual authority. In conclusion, with the exception of some contributions that pose the issue of gender in various ways, most chapters of this volume do not problematize gender from a theoretical point of view and could have been placed in any volume on Byzantine history. Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales, Paris CHARIS MESSIS 150 BOOK REVIEWS MEDIEVAL An Introduction to the Medieval Bible. By Frans van Liere. (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2014. Pp. xvi, 320. $28.99 paperback. ISBN 978-0-52168460-6.) It is a brave man who would attempt to introduce so vast and sprawling a topic as the medieval Bible in a single volume of modest size. Frans van Liere’s courage has produced a useful outline of the Bible in the medieval West, aimed primarily at undergraduates but also at “biblical scholars and students who want to rediscover the rich tradition of medieval biblical interpretation as something still relevant to our understanding of the Bible today” (p. xii). After a general introduction (chapter 1), he tackles the nature of medieval Bibles as books (chapter 2), their content, including apocrypha and pseudepigrapha (chapter 3), and the transmission of the texts (chapter 4). The focus then shifts to the different ways in which the texts were read and understood, with an introduction to the multiple senses of scripture in medieval exegesis (chapter 5) and an overview of the main commentary traditions (chapter 6). The next chapter sketches the history of vernacular versions (chapter 7), whereas the final two tackle “The Bible in Worship and Preaching” (chapter 8) and the Bible in medieval art, including theater (chapter 9). There are three useful appendices (tabulating the canons of the Hebrew, early medieval, late medieval, and modern bibles; setting out the different names used for various biblical books; and presenting a “schematic genealogy of Old Testament translations,” p. 271); a chronological handlist of principal medieval commentators would have been a worthwhile fourth. There is a reasonable “Subject and Author” index, an index of biblical references (surely irrelevant in an introductory volume), and an “Index of Manuscripts Cited.” The last can only be described as lamentable; it fails to include many of the manuscripts that are discussed, even very famous ones (one will look in vain for entries for Codex Argenteus, the Books of the Durrow and Kells, the Dagulf Psalter, the Old English Hexateuch, the Heliand, the Paris Psalter, the Très Riches Heures, the Utrecht Psalter, and the York Gospels, among others), whereas the references for those that do happen to be included may be incomplete—Codex Veronensis, for example, is reported for page 91 but not for pages 181–82, the Lindisfarne Gospels for pages 107 and 189 but not 187. The strengths of the volume are its conceptual structure—a sensible way to introduce the many aspects of the topic to nonspecialists—and its general clarity: each chapter effectively conveys key issues for its complicated field. Thus someone who reads the whole work will indeed grasp the essentials of an enormous, indeed boundless, subject. This is a major achievement, for which the author deserves warm congratulations. The weaknesses of the volume are its many errors of detail. For instance, on page 8 we read that Benedict Biscop “visited Rome no less [sic] than five times” (he actually visited it six times); on page 9 that “the new bibles did not look at all like any of the books commonly produced in England at the time such as the Book of BOOK REVIEWS 151 Durrow” (Durrow is not an English manuscript, and elaborately decorated gospelbooks of its sort were the exception, not the rule); and that “500 sheep were needed to produce parchment for the Codex Amiatinus alone” (in fact, calves were used). On page 28 it is claimed that “one [golden gospel-book] was given by Emperor Conrad to the minster at Goslar, and another by his son, Emperor Henry III, to the cathedral of Speyer” (in reality, both were gifts from Henry III), and evangeliaria are said to be “gospel books” whereas they are, of course, gospel-lectionaries. On page 33 it is stated, “[The] Vespasian Psalter was provided with an interlinear translation into Old English in the tenth century” (actually it was the ninth; cf. p. 152). On page 34 it is stated that “lay scriptoria existed alongside these monastic scriptoria” in the “fifth through eighth” and “the twelfth century” (a wild exaggeration of the roles of paid professionals at these times), and that canon tables covered “all possible combinations” (p. 106; actually they omit two: Mk-Lk-Jn and Mk-Jn). Then there are strange inconsistencies (such as Lanfranc’s name, which is sometimes spelled thus, other times as “Lanfrank”) and doubtful decisions (using “Jacob of Varazzo” for Jacob/Jacobus of Voragine, or offering a précis of the Sentences of Robert of Melun rather than of those of Peter Lombard, pp. 164–65). There are odd or incorrect choices of word (e.g., p. 97, “one stationary copy of a book …,” where “reference copy” or “stationer’s copy” is meant), sudden lapses into vague or over-colloquial language (“not all that dissimilar to,” “before too long,” “not too different,” “the skyrocketing growth”), uncorrected or unnoticed misspellings (Hidta for Hitda, for instance; p. 246), and occasional passages that simply do not make sense (e.g., p. 196 bottom to p. 197 top, where several minor slips have coincided to disastrous effect). Especially in the discussions of commentary traditions, there is too free a use of specialist vocabulary (e.g., postillators) for those at whom the book is aimed. Would a newcomer really be able to grasp a summary such as Nicholas and Hugh’s postillae both reflected the scholastic practice of reading the Bible cursorie in the first years of theological study. They covered the entire text of the Bible, and they combined the exegetical technique of the lectio (interspersing the biblical text with running glosses) with that of the disputatio (the treatment of more difficult passages or “dubia” in the form of a scholastic quaestio)? (p. 166). At one level, it could be argued, the many slips and infelicities do not really matter since the book is still a useful introduction to a complicated topic for undergraduates. At another, however, they are a great shame since they demote a potentially excellent book to a flawed one. Let us hope that there will be a second edition in which the errors are removed and the problems ironed out, and that can duly be recommended without hesitation. Durham University RICHARD GAMESON 152 BOOK REVIEWS The Medieval Papacy. By Brett Edward Whalen. [European History in Perspective.] (New York: Palgrave. 2014. Pp. xi, 227. $33.50 paperback. ISBN 9780-230-27283-5.) At the beginning of this concise volume, Brett Edward Whalen recounts the myth of the Donation of Constantine: that the emperor Constantine was cured of leprosy by Pope Sylvester, upon whom he then bestowed imperial power and the rule of the western provinces of the Empire. This myth was fabricated in the later eighth century, in all likelihood, by clerics intent to defend papal independence and authority in Italy from the growth of Frankish power. In the following centuries, popes and their advocates made great use of the Donation to assert papal authority and to justify interventions in secular politics, including the control over the lands that became the Papal State. This strategy was paired with the use of St. Peter’s legacy, which similarly served papal efforts to gain control over the institutional Church. As Whalen writes, … one can argue that the papacy’s assertion of sacred authority and worldly dominion—combining, as it were, the legacies of Saint Peter and Constantine—formed the distinguishing characteristic of the medieval papacy. (p. 2) … [T]he medieval papacy created and recreated a continuous tradition that connected present-day popes with their predecessors all the way back to Saint Peter. (p. 4) And indeed, Whalen’s book traces how the Roman bishopric separated itself conceptually from Roman imperial power, gained pre-eminence over other bishoprics in the Western half of Europe, and then translated that pre-eminence into power both spiritual and temporal. But over the long sweep of the Middle Ages, power was always shifting and evolving. The popes played various roles, and Whalen describes them: head of the universal Church, the bishop of Rome, and the ruler of the Papal State, among others. The justifications and the priorities of these roles sometimes complemented and sometimes conflicted with one another. Although there were many instances when popes took bold stands and were successful, it is striking how frequently the papacy stumbled and things turned out well nonetheless. Pope Gregory VII’s defeat and exile in the early phase of the Investiture Conflict was followed by a further defeat in 1111 when Pope Paschal II was forced to concede the right of investiture to Emperor Henry V. But only eleven years later, Pope Calixtus and the emperor agreed to the Concordat of Worms that would prove to be a major victory for the independence of the Church from secular control and for papal power. The text is fairly short and accessible for non-experts, and these would appear to be among its greatest strengths. Chapter 1 on the early history of the papal claims of pre-eminence is also particularly good. Whalen has written an evenhanded narrative that reviews how a long series of popes faced with challenges to their pre-eminence used the idea of that pre-eminence and shifting versions of his- BOOK REVIEWS 153 tory to enhance their office and to motivate Christians to act as they thought best. As political realities changed, papal goals and policies changed with them. In the eleventh and twelfth centuries, the papacy fought for and gained a high degree of independence and immunity for the Church from secular powers along with the capacity to intervene in secular affairs openly. By the sixteenth century, popes, in concordats concluded with the most powerful European monarchs, were willing to relinquish some control over parts of the Church and to limit overt secular interventions. Whalen’s book demonstrates how the papacy used and repeatedly reshaped its reputation and history, adjusting policies to achieve objectives over a dozen centuries. Bemidji State University Bemidji, MN BRENDAN MCMANUS Das begrenzte Papsttum: Spielräume päpstlichen Handels. Legaten – delegierte RichterGrenzen. Edited by Klaus Herbers, Fernando López Alsina, and Frank Engel. [Abhandlungen der Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen, neue Folge, Band 25.] (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. 2013. Pp. xii, 332. $140.00. ISBN 9783-11-030463-3.) The fourteen papers in this volume represent the outcome of a conference held at the Universidade Católica Portuguesa in Lisbon in July 2010, under the auspices of its Centro de Estudos de História Religiosa, the University of Santiago de Compostela, and the Göttingen Academy of Sciences and Humanities. This academy supports an ongoing project for the publication of extant original papal documents before the pontificate of Innocent III (1198–1216) and to date has published two volumes in its Iberia Pontificia series treating the exempt dioceses of Burgos and León. Scholars drawn from Austria, France, Germany, Portugal, Spain, and Switzerland (most presenting in their own languages but with brief English summaries provided) explored the actuality of papal authority on the Iberian peninsula between the eleventh and thirteenth centuries, focusing on the challenges and limitations posed by geographical distance from the papal curia, the activities of legates and papal judges-delegate, and the complex ecclesiastical structures in the Iberian realms that were still in the process of formation in the context of the Reconquista—the series of long and complex campaigns by Christian rulers to recapture territory that Muslims had conquered from the Visigoths between 711 and 718. One role of the papacy in this situation was to afford legitimacy to those structures and to adjudicate in the often protracted disputes over metropolitan jurisdiction and diocesan borders that it generated. The papers are grouped under four sections. The first section considers general issues such as the reach of papal authority (as manifested, for example, in the itineraries of individual popes), the expanding range of addressees in papal privileges and responses to canonical queries directed to the papacy, the personnel of the college of cardinals (only three of whom were drawn from the Iberian peninsula in the period covered by this volume), and the geographical impact of papal conciliar 154 BOOK REVIEWS decisions and Roman liturgical developments. The second section provides more detailed case studies relating to territorial demarcation and tensions between ecclesiastical geography and political borders of consolidating secular lordships, including a dispute between the sees of Porto and Coimbra and boundary changes in the ecclesiastical province of Narbonne whereby the counts of Barcelona and Melgueil sought papal support to bolster their own spheres of influence. The third section considers the potentialities and limitations of the role of papal legates on the Iberian peninsula. An article by Clauda Zey compares legatine activity on the Iberian peninsula with two other outlying regions, the crusader states in the Holy Land and Scandinavia. Ludwig Vones surveys the activities of the cardinal-priest Richard of Marseille and the four legatine synods convened by him—namely, Burgos 1080, Husillos 1088, Palencia 1100, and Girona 1101. In a century-long conflict between the Dioceses of León and Lugo over the Archdeaconry of Triacastela, which was geographically closer to Lugo, both sides appealed to the papacy for definitive rulings, but might also expediently choose to ignore mandates. The concluding section considers the developing role of papal judges-delegate, which relied on a new cadre of clerics who had been trained in canon law, with case studies drawn from the Dioceses of Burgos and Avila (in the case of the latter by Frank Engel a useful table of the judges delegate, disputing parties, and sources is provided). Overall, this volume constitutes a valuable base for further investigations arising from the Iberia pontificia series, but it also has a wider relevance for all those interested in the reach of papal government from the eleventh century onward into the more peripheral areas of Western Christendom. Queen’s University Belfast MARIE THERESE FLANAGAN On Morals. By William of Auvergne. Translated with an Introduction and Notes by Roland J. Teske. [Mediaeval Sources in Translation, Vol. 55. Saint Michael’s College Mediaeval Translations.] (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies. 2013. Pp. xxvi, 250. C$30.00 paperback. ISBN 978-088844-305-2.) A professor of theology at the university of Paris in the 1220s and bishop of Paris from 1228 until his death in 1249, William of Auvergne was also a prolific author. The seven parts of his massive Magisterium divinale et sapientiale [Teaching on God and Wisdom], an encyclopedic theological and philosophical work written and revised over many years, cover more than 1100 folio pages in the 1674 edition of his collected works, still the standard reference for the majority of his writings in the absence of modern critical editions. Over the last several decades, Roland J. Teske has published a series of English translations of portions of William’s Magisterium and other works, the latest of which is the book under review. A successor to Teske’s translation of On the Virtues (De virtutibus, Milwaukee, 2009), On Morals (De moribus) is the second of six sections that make up the larger treatise De virtutibus et vitiis [On the Virtues and the Vices], itself the seventh part of the overall Magisterium. The text used for the translation is that of the 1674 edi- BOOK REVIEWS 155 tion, with conjectural emendations noted in the footnotes; it does not appear that any manuscripts were consulted. Teske attempts to identify William’s quotations and provides an index of scriptural references and an index of other works cited by William, but further annotation is minimal. The introduction gives basic information about William’s life and summarizes the work translated. Where On the Virtues discusses general questions related to virtue, On Morals takes up nine specific virtues: faith, fear, hope, charity, piety, zeal, poverty, humility, and patience. With the exception of humility, who is naturally too humble to speak in her own praise, each of the personified virtues speaks in the first person, describing her benefits to her possessor and the sins and contrary dispositions against which she is a defense or a remedy. For the most part, these are presented in broadly applicable terms, with plentiful quotation from and allusion to scripture and tradition, but the particular concerns of a thirteenth-century bishop occasionally shine through, as in William’s extended condemnation of supposedly zealous reformers of religious life who kill souls with the violence of their efforts at correction, instead of healing them by means of a more judicious approach (pp. 104–14), and his defense of the compatibility of monastic corporate ownership with individual poverty (pp. 143–50). A recurring image is that of virtue as a shrewd businesswoman laying up treasure in heaven, in ways that range from charity’s partnership in the good works of all who share in the fellowship of the Holy Spirit (pp. 51–53) to patience’s conversion of earthly tribulation into payment of the penitential debt owed for sin (pp. 217–22), among others. While the translation is generally accurate and readable, typographical errors and infelicities are disturbingly frequent. Also, what reader requires no explanation for “Parasceve,” better known as Good Friday (pp. 82–83), but needs to have references to various coins rendered as references to dollars and nickels (pp. 49, 152, 228)? However, Teske has once again made an interesting medieval text available to students and others without Latin, and we can only hope that he will continue to add to his already impressive contributions in this regard. Indiana University Bloomington JENNIFER R. OTTMAN Holy Warriors: The Religious Ideology of Chivalry. By Richard W. Kaeuper. [The Middle Ages Series.] (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009. Pp. xi, 331. $29.95. ISBN 978-0-8122-2297-5.) Building upon his earlier study of Chivalry and Violence in Medieval Europe (Oxford, 1999), in Holy Warriors Richard Kaeuper continues to explore the paradoxes of chivalry, this time as manifested in the religiosity of medieval warriors. Whereas previous scholars approaching this subject from the perspectives of church history and the history of crusading have tended to assume warriors’ passivity in spiritual matters, Kaeuper strives instead to define knightly piety as knights themselves understood it and to recover a distinctive lay martial Christianity that was often at odds with the Church’s official teachings. 156 BOOK REVIEWS After a first chapter dedicated to sources and methodology, chapter 2 presents a case study of two knightly guides, the fourteenth-century writers Geoffroi de Charny and Henry of Lancaster, who proclaimed the martial life—campaigning against fellow Christians, tourneying, and all—to be fully consonant with Christian ideals. Here and in later chapters, Kaeuper insists that knights did not uncritically accept clerical critiques of the warrior life, but defined a piety that embraced the chivalric values of loyalty, bravery, and physical endurance. Chapters 3 and 4 show how, faced with the moral critiques of clerical reformers, knights insisted that the physical hardships of war were a form of Christian asceticism equal to or more meritorious than that practiced by churchmen. In chapter 5 Kaeuper develops an original reading of the chansons de geste as a literature of ascetic suffering, in which the distinction between crusading warfare and warfare between Christians fades into the background; what is important to knights is not the religion of their opponents but the opportunities that battle presents for bodily mortification and self-sacrifice. As the battlefield became a site for the performance of knightly piety, it was natural that knights should look to Christ to lead them into the fray, and chapter 6 shows how strongly warriors identified with Christ in his guises as champion of the Church and, increasingly in the later Middle Ages, heroic sufferer. Chapters 7 and 8 reconstruct knightly responses to the clerical elaboration of a lay theology that asserted the superiority of the priestly and monastic “labor” of prayer over the inherently sinful “labor” of war and promoted new forms of lay penance. Again, Kaeuper argues, knights pushed back by asserting the spiritual value of their martial labor and the efficacy of heroic physical penance over inner contrition. By way of conclusion, chapter 9 addresses the decline of chivalry in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, identifying the anti-chivalric ideals of humanists and early Protestants as well as the early-modern nation-state as the main agents responsible for chivalry’s demise. Kaeuper’s knowledge of the vernacular literature of chivalry, chivalric biographies, and handbooks is unequaled, and he makes excellent use of Latin exempla and penitential texts to demonstrate how clerical writers tailored religious instruction to knightly needs. He is occasionally less than convincing when reading the clerical sources as evidence for knightly mentalities; for instance, the assertion that the Cistercian Tractatus de Purgatorio Sancti Patricii “conveys strongly held knightly ideals” (p. 133) is not borne out by the accompanying short analysis which focuses largely on the Old French version of the tale by Marie de France. Kaeuper generally handles his evidence with great care and sensitivity to problems related to authorship and audience; this reviewer noted only one slip: the misidentification of the chronicler Ralph of Caen, a priest, as a “Norman knight” (p. 29). Such quibbles aside, Holy Warriors is a groundbreaking work and is sure to remain the startingpoint for studies of chivalry and religion for some time to come. The book is beautifully and entertainingly written, and complemented by rich endnotes and a substantial bibliography (which, however, curiously omits the manuscript sources cited in the notes). Holy Warriors should be required reading for medievalists interested in knighthood and chivalry as well as the institutional Church, lay spirituality, and penance. BOOK REVIEWS 157 Historians of the crusading movement will find ample food for thought in Kaeuper’s challenge to the traditional narrative of how holy war ideology transformed the Christian moral economy of violence in the Central Middle Ages. Experts in all of these disciplines will be delighted by Kaeuper’s consideration of numerous obscure and unedited texts alongside old standards, whereas beginning students could not ask for a more generous guide to the sources and contexts of chivalry and knightly piety. This book is an ideal teaching text, and now that it is available in paperback, it will hopefully make its way into many syllabi. University of Puget Sound KATHERINE ALLEN SMITH The Taymouth Hours: Stories and the Construction of the Self in Late Medieval England. By Kathryn A. Smith. (London: British Library. Distrib. University of Toronto Press. 2012. Pp. xxii, 310. C$65.00. ISBN 978-0-7123-5869-9.) The Taymouth Hours (BL Yates Thompson MS 13), a richly illuminated fourteenth-century manuscript, has not received as much attention as it deserves. Its prayers, Calendar, and Latin offices are decorated with miniatures and large initials; however, what is most notable are the pictures at the bottom of nearly every page. These images derive not just from biblical stories, saints’ lives, and moral tales but also from secular pursuits like hunting, and from secular texts like romances. The Taymouth Hours has never before been published in monograph or facsimile form, so it is delightful to view much of it in this book, along with an appendix of contents and a DVD of its images. Kathryn Smith makes two propositions. Many scholars have focused on who commissioned and/or who owned this work; although she was probably royal, no helpful heraldry in the MS identifies her. Possible candidates have included Isabella of France, Edward II’s queen; Philippa of Hainaut, Edward’s III’s queen; and Joan, Edward’s younger sister, who married David II of Scotland. Smith suggests as owner Eleanor of Woodstock, Edward’s elder sister, who in 1332 married Reinald II, count of Guelders, and further suggests that Philippa commissioned the Hours as a marriage gift for her young sister-in-law. This suggestion is accompanied by a wealth of detail on Edward III’s court, especially its royal women. Isabella, Philippa, and to a lesser extent Joan were all associated with manuscripts, whether as patrons or owners. Philippa commissioned one Richard of Oxford to illumine two books with Hours of the Virgin. Smith argues that one of these volumes was the Taymouth Hours. What is first put forward as speculation (p. 28) soon hardens into fact: “Richard of Oxford’s work in the Taymouth Hours” (p. 30). Very little is known of Eleanor of Woodstock. Smith calls her “an enigma,” practically forgotten by historians. Although in her first chapter there is talk of “scholarly conjecture,” “no internal evidence” in the manuscript, and Eleanor’s “putative ownership,” Smith’s last line in it makes it clear she firmly believes her candidate owned the Taymouth Hours. The Historiography of American Catholicism as Reflected in The Catholic Historical Review, 1915–2015 PHILIP GLEASON* This essay surveys and provides limited commentary on the articles and book reviews dealing with the history of American Catholicism that have appeared in The Catholic Historical Review since it began publication in 1915. Keywords: Americanism, anti-Catholicism, black Catholics, churchand-state, devotionalism, Hispanics, immigrants, lay trusteeism, missionary activity, modernism, nativism, scientific history, social history, social reform, spirituality, Vatican II, women’s history, women’s religious communities I n the first issue of The Catholic Historical Review (CHR), its founding editor, Peter Guilday took note of the fact that the Catholic World was marking its golden jubilee of publication in 1915. “Fifty years is a long life for a periodical,” he wrote, adding, “to a review just beginning its career, it seems patriarchal.”1 If that comparison aroused “feelings of veneration” in Guilday, how should one feel who confronts the task of commemorating the CHR’s century of existence? Even though this centennial issue is a collaborative effort, with my responsibility being confined to the CHR’s treatment of American Catholic history, it is a daunting prospect. No such article could pretend to be complete and must inevitably reflect the reviewer’s overall perspective and personal judgments. In approaching the task, I divide the century into seven temporal segments, provide basic information about the CHR’s con- *Dr. Gleason is professor of history emeritus at the University of Notre Dame and a former president of ACHA, email: j.p.gleason.2@nd.edu. He wishes to thank Steven M. Avella, Paul Bush, Maureen Gleason, Jean McManus, Timothy J. Meagher, David J. O’Brien, and Marvin R. O’Connell for their assistance in the preparation of this article. 1. “Notes and Comment,” The Catholic Historical Review (hereafter CHR), 1 (1915), 103–12, here 103. These remarks in the Notes and Comment section were unsigned but presumably written by Guilday. 156 PHILIP GLEASON 157 tent for each period, comment on what seem to me particularly interesting contributions in that segment of its history, and offer some overarching conclusions at the end. Segment 1: 1915 to 1921 Because the CHR was ostensibly devoting itself exclusively to the history of American Catholicism in this period, I was surprised on surveying its contents to discover that about one in four of its articles (twenty-two of eighty-one, by my count) seemed to fall outside the parameters of that subject. The same phenomenon was even more striking in respect to book reviews: only forty-one of the 206 reviews published in that period dealt with what I thought could properly be called the history of the Church in this country. By contrast, virtually all of the fifty or so items in the Document and Miscellany sections had to do with American Catholic history. That was also the case, though to a lesser degree, in the Notes and Comment section, which averaged perhaps ten pages in each issue. While a historical journal might understandably review significant publications that fall outside its immediate area of specialization, the imbalance here dramatizes the fact that not enough work was being done in American Catholic history to fill the review section.2 In respect to articles, however, Peter Guilday’s broadly inclusive view of what American Catholic history encompassed goes far toward explaining the presence of what I took to be outliers. In the Notes and Comment section of the combined July/October 1919 issue, he listed forty-five subtopics that would require article-length treatment before a “General History of the Catholic Church in the United States” could be undertaken. The list begins as follows: the Brendan voyage; missionary activity of the Middle Ages (1200– 1500); America in medieval legends; the Norse Church in America (1125– 1492); the cartography of the Middle Ages; and Catholic discoverers and explorers of the New World. Topics further along in the list include the Spanish system of colonial administration, church and state in New 2. The July 1918 issue offers an extreme example: of the eleven books reviewed; only The Catholic Encyclopedia and Its Makers (New York, 1917) dealt directly with American Catholicism. The others were Carl Becker’s Beginnings of the American People (Boston, 1915); James Ford Rhodes’s history of the Civil War; John Spencer Bassett’s The Middle Group of American Historians (New York, 1917); a book on The Formation of the State of Oklahoma (Berkeley, 1917); and six volumes of published dissertations from the series put out by the university presses of Johns Hopkins and Columbia. 158 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM France, the Catholic attitude toward history, and Catholic truth and historical truth.3 Besides Guilday’s expansive view of the scope of American Catholic history, the first six volumes of the CHR clearly reflect his determination to promote up-to-date professionalism among researchers of the subject. With that goal in mind, Guilday emphasized the collection, preservation, and publication of documentary sources, and the application of scientific methodology on the part of those who used them. Closely related were his efforts to organize a national (as opposed to local or regional) association that would encourage and upgrade the study of Catholic history. The latter goal came to fruition in 1919 with the founding of the American Catholic Historical Association (ACHA). It met annually thereafter, usually at the same time and place as the American Historical Association (AHA)—a practice designed to keep Catholics in touch with the larger scholarly world.4 The CHR’s first issue testified to Guilday’s desire to publicize and make available documentary sources. Besides publishing two items from the early days of Catholicism in Ohio and New York City, it contained descriptions of the documentary riches to be found in the annual reports of the Leopoldine Foundation, an Austrian mission-aid society, and in Notre Dame’s “Catholic Archives of America.”5 Two key documents of the early 3. “Notes and Comment,” CHR, 5 (1919), 282–89, here 285–86. In another “Notes and Comment” section, Guilday envisaged a four-volume collection of documents on American Catholic history : I, Pre-Columbian America; II, The Period of Colonization (1492– 1680); III, The Colonial Penal Law Period (1680–1789); IV, The Catholic Church under the Established Hierarchy (1789–1916). CHR, 1 (1916), 476–87. 4. In his introduction to the first issue (CHR, 1 [1915], 5–12), Bishop Thomas J. Shahan, rector of The Catholic University of America and titular editor-in-chief of the CHR, appealed especially to priests to “preserve some precious memorial or tradition” and support all engaged in historical work. In the same issue, a Bibliography section introduced a series of didactic pieces on history’s auxiliary sciences: “Introductory Note,” CHR, 1 (1915), 113–19. In the fourth issue of volume 1, John C. Fitzpatrick, of the Manuscript Division of the Library of Congress, published a how-to article titled “The Preservation of Ecclesiastical Documents,” CHR, 1 (1916), 390–99. For Guilday’s efforts to form a “national” association of Catholic historians, see “Notes and Comment,” CHR, 2 (1916), 347–66, and the lead article in the April 1920 issue, Peter Guilday, “The American Catholic Historical Association,” CHR, 6 (1920), 3–14. For his overall commitment to “scientific” history and his battle against “amateurism,” see David O’Brien, “Peter Guilday: The Catholic Intellectual in the PostModernist Church,” in Studies in Catholic History in Honor of John Tracy Ellis, ed. Nelson H. Minnich, Robert B. Eno, and Robert F. Trisco (Wilmington, DE, 1985), pp. 272–76. 5. Raymond Payne, “Annals of the Leopoldine Association,” CHR, 1 (1915), 51–63; Dr. Foik, “Catholic Archives of America,” CHR, 1 (1915), 63–64. PHILIP GLEASON 159 American Church— Bishop Benedict J. Flaget’s 1815 report on conditions in the Diocese of Bardstown and Archbishop Ambrose Maréchal’s 1818 report on the Diocese of Baltimore—followed in the issues of October 1915 and January 1916.6 Oddly enough, it was a contribution to this soberly scientific section of the CHR that called forth the most heated reaction of anything published in its early years. The offending item, which appeared in the July/ October 1919 issue, was the text of John B. Purcell’s diary for 1833–36, the first three years of his half-century administration as bishop (later archbishop) of Cincinnati. Unfortunately, some of Purcell’s observations reflected unfavorably on the record of his immediate predecessor, Edward Fenwick, O.P., the founding bishop of the diocese, who died in the cholera epidemic of 1832. That was too much for Victor F. O’Daniel, O.P., a prolific historian of the pioneering work of his fellow Dominicans and a man who brooked no disparagement of their achievements. In the Notes and Comment section of the next issue of the CHR, O’Daniel angrily rejected the diary’s “gross exaggerations,” linking them to Purcell’s “well known” irritability, “susceptibility to megalomania,” and “delusion [sic] of grandeur.” It was, he wrote, a pity that the diary with its “useless notes … morose reflections and unkind criticisms” was ever “brought to light.” In concluding, O’Daniel stated that he undertook his vindication of Fenwick’s reputation at the request of “one of the highest ecclesiastics of the country”—whom he did not further identify.7 Although Guilday would have preferred to do nothing but publish documents, he realized that such a limitation was impractical.8 The best he could do in his own works was to include as many documents as possible in the books he published, the most important of which were biographies of leading bishops. Even though he did not consider himself temperamentally suited to writing biographies, he elaborated a rationale for the biographical approach based on several closely related propositions. First, he believed that the history of the Catholic Church was “best understood in 6. V. F. O’Daniel, “Bishop Flaget’s Report of the Diocese of Bardstown to Pius VII, April 10, 1815,” CHR, 1 (1915), 305–19; “The Diocese of Baltimore in 1818: Archbishop Maréchal’s Account to Propaganda, October 16, 1818,” CHR, 1 (1916), 439–53. 7. For Purcell’s diary, see Sr. Mary Agnes McCann, ed., “Bishop Purcell’s Journal, 1833–1836,” CHR, 5 (1919), 239–56; for O’Daniel’s reaction, “Notes and Comment,” CHR, 5 (1920), 427–37, here 434–35. 8. Thomas T. McAvoy, C.S.C., told me years ago that such was Guilday’s preference, and the point is confirmed in O’Brien’s “Peter Guilday,” pp. 290–91. 160 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM the lives of its leaders,” and that bishops were the crucially important leaders. Such was especially the case in the United States because the “personal element in church movements in America is so emphatic” that to neglect it would distort the historical story. Moreover, the many biographies of bishops already available made the biographical approach “the most natural one the student can take”—with the proviso, of course, that the evidence gleaned from these secondary sources “be subjected to rigid critical tests.” Finally, focusing on successive eras through an episcopal prism lent narrative momentum to the story of American Catholicism—a quality notably lacking in John Gilmary Shea’s otherwise admirable volumes.9 This theoretical framework clearly foreshadowed what were to be Guilday’s most important publications—his massive two-volume, document-packed, life-and-times biographies of John Carroll, the founding bishop of the American hierarchy, and John England, whom Guilday considered the outstanding figure among the second generation of American bishops. He intended to continue what we might call his “great bishops” method of synthesizing American Catholic history with a biography— unfortunately never completed—of John Hughes, bishop (later archbishop) of New York in the middle decades of nineteenth century. And it is worth noting that John Tracy Ellis, Guilday’s student and successor as dean of American Catholic historians, picked up the broken thread of this episcopal synthesis with his two-volume biography of Cardinal James Gibbons, archbishop of Baltimore and a central figure in American Catholic life from the 1870s to 1920. There are a few other hints in the early volumes of the CHR of projects Guilday would later pursue, but they were all contained in the Notes and Comment or Documents sections.10 In this first period, only two of 9. For Guilday’s feeling he was unsuited for biographical work, see ibid., p. 291; for his rationale for the biographical approach, with emphasis on the lives of bishops, see Peter Guilday, “Guide to the Biographical Sources of the American Hierarchy,” CHR, 5 (1919), 120–28, here 120; and “Notes and Comment,” CHR, 6 (1920), 121–27; for criticism of Shea’s organizational plan, see Peter Guilday, John Gilmary Shea: Father of American Catholic History, 1824–1892 (New York, 1926), p. 128, 151. For other evidence of the focus on the role of bishops, see Owen B. Corrigan’s series on the “Chronology of the Catholic Hierarchy of the United States,” of which seven installments appeared in the CHR between January 1916 and October 1920. 10. See, for example, the lengthy document-cum-commentary, Peter Guilday, “The Appointment of Father John Carroll as Prefect-Apostolic of the Church in the New Republic (1783–1785),” CHR, 6 (1920), 204–48, which obviously anticipates Guilday’s 1922 biography of Carroll. PHILIP GLEASON 161 Guilday’s contributions were listed as articles, and neither of them approached in scholarly interest a Notes and Comment entry of January 1921.11 This fourteen-page sketch, titled “The Church in the United States (1870–1920): A Retrospect of Fifty Years,” which is laudatory of Cardinal Gibbons, deals with the controversies of the 1880s and ’90s more frankly than one might expect in view of the bitter feelings they aroused. Indeed, Guilday acknowledged to a contemporary that he had revealed less about them than he knew. Even so, he touched on all the major issues, including the nationality and school questions, the role of Archbishop John Ireland, “Heckerism,” and the condemnation of “Americanism.” While acknowledging that it was too soon to render a definitive judgment, Guilday ventured the opinion that the Americanist controversy might be best understood as “the beginning of the heresy of Modernism”—an opinion not without interest to students of Americanism even today.12 A few other items appearing in this period dealt with matters that would prove to be of continuing concern to historians. Thus N. A. Weber’s January 1916 article “Rise of National Churches in the United States” opened up the sensitive issue of ethnicity and its role in trusteeism; Joseph Butsch’s “Negro Catholics in the United States” (April 1917) provided a useful, if overly benign, review of Catholic missionary work among African Americans; Bishop Regis Canevin of Pittsburgh tackled the question of “loss and gain” in the American Catholic population (January 1917); and the Notes and Comment section of October 1916 stressed the need to understand the roots of anti-Catholic feeling in the United States, particularly the question of Catholics’ loyalty to the pope.13 11. The April 1920 issue carries a signed article by Peter Guilday, “The American Catholic Historical Association,” CHR, 6 (1920), 3–14, reporting on the December 1919 organizational meeting of the ACHA; his “The Sacred Congregation de Propaganda Fide (1622–1922),” CHR, 6 (1921), 478–94, is a sort of bibliographical survey anticipating the 300th anniversary of Propaganda’s establishment. Book reviews were unsigned in the first four volumes of the CHR, but it seems likely that he wrote the October 1918 review of Cardinal John Farley’s biography of Farley’s predecessor, John McCloskey, which Guilday had ghostwritten, and which was then heavily revised by Patrick J. Hayes, the auxiliary bishop of New York. See O’Brien, “Peter Guilday,” p. 269, and John Tracy Ellis, Faith and Learning: A Church Historian’s Story (Lanham, MD, 1989), p. 47. 12. “Notes and Comment,” CHR, 6 (1921), 533–47, here 544. For Guilday’s knowing more than he revealed, see O’Brien, “Peter Guilday,” pp. 285–86, and Philip Gleason, Keeping the Faith: American Catholicism Past and Present (Notre Dame, 1987), p. 248n11. 13. See CHR, 1 (1916), 422–34; CHR, 3 (1917), 33–51; “Loss and Gain in the Catholic Church in the United States (1800–1916),” CHR, 2 (1917), 377–85; CHR, 2 (1916), 347–366, particularly 348–349, respectively. 162 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM The momentous public event of these early years was the nation’s entry into World War I in April 1917. Guilday devoted several pages of the CHR’s July issue to the challenge this development posed to historians. The most pressing wartime need—national unity—demanded the burial of racial, religious, and social differences because the country could no longer remain “a heterogeneous collection of little Europes.” Guilday reprinted and heartily endorsed a statement along those lines issued by the AHA and exhorted priests especially to preserve materials relating to Catholic participation in the war effort. At the same time, he showed sensitivity to the dangers of self-isolation by noting that some might question the desirability of Catholics’ acting in “a separatist way.”14 Guilday’s reflections on how Catholics should conduct themselves as citizens in a nation at war attracted no public notice. Quite different was the reaction to Gaillard Hunt’s “The Virginia Declaration of Rights and Cardinal Bellarmine,” which also appeared at the height of patriotic fervor and buttressed American Catholics’ conviction that their religious and national loyalties fit together harmoniously.15 In this article—the urtext of what Protestant scholars (and later historians) dismissively labeled the “Bellarmine-Jefferson legend”—Hunt, a respected historian of early America and a convert to Catholicism, argued that the language used by Bellarmine in asserting the natural equality of man and the right of the people to selfgovernment might have inspired Jefferson’s wording of those points in the Declaration of Independence. While acknowledging the speculative nature of the connection, Hunt concluded that Catholics could take satisfaction from the fact that the basic ideas underlying the American Revolution “found their best support in the writings of a Prince of the Church.”16 Catholic writers immediately seized upon, and often overstated, Hunt’s thesis.17 However, the broader contention toward which it pointed—namely, that medieval Scholastics and Counter-Reformation Jesuits made important contributions to the natural law/limited govern14. “Notes and Comment,” CHR, 3 (1917), 242–47, here 247. For Guilday’s wartime activities as an administrator of the Students’ Army Training Corps, and as secretary of the National Catholic War Council’s committee on historical records, see O’Brien, “Peter Guilday,” p. 268. 15. CHR, 3 (1917), 276–89. 16. See ibid., p. 289, for quotation. Hunt applied the same argument to George Mason’s drawing up of the Virginia Declaration of Rights (1776), but Jefferson and the Declaration of Independence was what attracted all the attention. 17. Merrill D. Peterson, The Jefferson Image in the American Mind (New York, 1960), pp. 306–07, 500–01, treats the episode as a curiosity but provides a useful bibliography. PHILIP GLEASON 163 ment tradition on which the Founding Fathers drew—was warranted by the best contemporary scholarship and became a hallmark of American Catholic thought in the 1920s.18 Interestingly, after having published the piece that set off the discussion, the CHR carried nothing further on the subject except a single article published in 1925.19 It is clear, however, that Guilday himself fully endorsed the broader version of the medieval roots of democracy thesis.20 Segment 2: 1921 to 1929 In the second phase of the CHR’s development, the Ku Klux Klan and others opposed to Al Smith’s presidential candidacy challenged Catholics’ loyalty to American principles. But developments in the civic sphere are not what justify calling this period a distinct epoch in the CHR’s history. The reason is more prosaic: its boundaries are set by changes in the journal’s editorial leadership. Concurrently with the 1921 expansion of the CHR’s coverage to include all aspects of Catholic history, a new editorial team took the reins. The rector of The Catholic University of America (CUA), Bishop Thomas J. Shahan, remained the titular editor-in-chief, but Patrick W. Browne, one of Guilday’s earliest doctoral students, was named managing editor. Now listed as one of seven associate editors, Guilday turned his attention to his own research, publishing five books between 1922 and 1927. Understandably, he contributed relatively little to the CHR in these years. He did, however, follow its fortunes closely and was troubled by what seemed to him a drift toward popularization in its offerings.21 His uneasiness on this 18. For elaboration of these points, see Philip Gleason, Contending with Modernity: Catholic Higher Education in the Twentieth Century (New York, 1995), pp. 125–30, and the literature cited therein. For a different view, which reflects the discomfort later Catholic scholars felt over what seemed embarrassingly exaggerated claims, see William M. Halsey, The Survival of American Innocence: Catholicism in an Era of Disillusionment, 1920–1940 (Notre Dame, 1980), pp. 71–74. 19. John C. Rager, “The Blessed Cardinal Bellarmine’s Defense of Popular Government in the Sixteenth Century,” CHR, 10 (1925), 504–14. This article anticipated Rager’s doctoral dissertation, Political Philosophy of Blessed Cardinal Bellarmine (Washington, DC, 1926), which also appeared under the title Democracy and Bellarmine (Shelbyville, IN, 1926). 20. See the discussion in Gleason, Keeping the Faith, pp. 106–12, p. 249n15, and what seem to be drafts of a talk given by Guilday. On the last, see Washington, DC, American Catholic History Research Center and University Archives (hereafter ACUA), Guilday Papers, Box 68, folders 6–9. 21. For Guilday’s concern about popularization and amateurism, see O’Brien, “Peter Guilday,” pp. 275, 284. 164 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM point probably hastened a reorganization in 1929, whereby Guilday and two junior colleagues constituted the editorial board.22 This arrangement— Guilday as chief editor, assisted by various colleagues—continued until his declining health required John Tracy Ellis to assume the editorship in 1941. During the years 1921–29, the CHR published 134 articles, of which thirty-five (26 percent) dealt with the history of American Catholicism, one with Latin America, and two with Canada. About a dozen articles were written by women, but only two of them, both written by nuns, dealt with American Catholic history.23 Book reviews totaled 384, of which some forty-four (11 percent) focused on U.S. Catholic history, eight on Latin American Catholicism, and five on Canadian. Although reviews were customarily signed, the reviewer of the first two volumes of Frederick J. Zwierlein’s life of Bishop Bernard McQuaid of Rochester, a landmark in American Catholic historiography, was identified as “X”—a puzzling instance of reticence, as the review was in no way controversial.24 Another interesting feature of the review section was the yeoman work of Richard J. Purcell, a prize-winning PhD from Yale who joined CUA’s history department in 1920. In his first six years on the faculty, he contributed some seventy reviews to the CHR—nearly all in general U.S. history.25 Two women contributed frequently to the book review section: Miriam T. Murphy accounted for nineteen reviews, Margaret Brent Downing for four. The latter also contributed to the January 1925 issue a Miscellany item on a chapel in Virginia built on Brent family land in the seventeenth century.26 One thing Guilday might have found disappointing was the fact that no source documents from the American Catholic past were published in this period. As to his concern about “popularization,” a good deal of that 22. Both of the junior colleagues earned their degrees at CUA: Leo Francis Stock in 1920; George B. Stratemeier in 1922. 23. Sr. Mary Agnes McCann, “Religious Orders of Women of the United States,” CHR, 7 (1921), 316–31; Sr. M. Ramona, “The Ecclesiastical Status of New Mexico, 1680– 1875,” CHR, 14 (1929), 525–68. 24. For review of Zwierlein’s work, see CHR, 14 (1928), 287–90. 25. It seems likely that Purcell also wrote the unsigned, ten-page review of several volumes of the newly published History of American Life series, which appeared in CHR, 14 (1928), 445–55. Incidentally, Arthur M. Schlesinger Sr., the principle editor of the History of American Life series, contributed a review of Samuel F. Bemis’s Jay’s Treaty in CHR, 10 (1924), 161–62. 26. Margaret Brent Downing, “The Old Catholic Chapel and Graveyard near Aquia, Stafford County, Va.,” CHR, 10 (1925), 561–63. PHILIP GLEASON 165 was in the eye of the beholder. It is, however, perhaps fair to say that the CHR’s contents in this period lacked something of the auroral freshness of its earliest years. In 1923, the ACHA adopted the CHR as its official organ. Reports of the ACHA’s annual meetings became a standard feature of the April issue, and many convention papers were later published in the CHR.27 Two such articles written by Lawrence F. Flick, M.D., a highly respected “amateur” historian and the ACHA’s first president, illustrate the mixed quality of these offerings. The first, “What the American Has Got Out of the Melting Pot from the Catholic,” had the character of a gentlemanly stroll through history highlighting Catholic contributions to the nation’s development; the second was a much more systematic seventyfive-page account of the career of Demetrius A. Gallitzin (1779–1840), the pioneer priest and colony builder of central Pennsylvania.28 Among other articles of interest were Sr. Mary Agnes McCann’s “Religious Orders of Women of the United States,” a lucid historical survey of a complicated subject; Leo F. Stock’s “The United States at the Court of Pius IX,” the author’s first venture into a topic he was to pursue in two later books; and Benjamin Tuska’s “Know-Nothingism in Baltimore 1854–1860,” a harbinger of the many studies of antebellum nativism done by students of Richard J. Purcell.29 Tuska’s article made no reference to anti-Catholicism in the 1920s, but silence on that subject gave way as the 1928 election drew near. In July 27. According to Carl Wittke, “The Catholic Historical Review—Forty Years,” CHR, 42 (1956), 1–14, here 7, many articles of inferior quality appeared in the CHR because ACHA convention papers were published almost “automatically.” However, he says this practice continued until 1941, which, if correct, would mean that no improvement was registered after Guilday reassumed the chief editorship in 1929. 28. For Lawrence F. Flick’s articles, see CHR, 11 (1925), 407–30, and CHR, 13 (1927), 394–469, respectively. Neither of these articles had footnotes; both cited a few authorities in parentheses in the text. Wittke, “Forty Years,” p. 3, notes that the CHR’s conventions of documentation were not yet “completely standardized” in the 1920s. For more on Flick, see John Paul Cadden, The Historiography of the American Catholic Church: 1785–1943 (Washington, DC, 1944), pp. 82–88, and Ella Marie Flick, Beloved Crusader, Lawrence Flick, M.D. (Philadelphia, 1944). 29. McCann’s article in CHR, 7 (1921), 316–31, was undocumented but doubtless drew upon the research that went into her three-volume History of Mother Seton’s Daughters (New York, 1917–23); for Leo F. Stock’s article, see CHR, 9 (1923), 103–22. Stock later published two volumes of documents relating to diplomatic relations between the United States and the Papal States. It is not clear from Tuska’s article in CHR, 11 (1925), 217–51, that he was a student of Purcell, but Cadden, Historiography of the American Catholic Church, p. 106, lists six doctoral dissertations and nine master’s theses on nativism directed by Purcell in the 1920s and ’30s. 166 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM 1927, the CHR’s Miscellany section carried a thirty-eight-page item titled “Undivided Allegiance,” which reprinted (along with commentary and related materials) Al Smith’s response to Charles C. Marshall’s letter to the Atlantic Monthly challenging Smith’s fitness to be president because Catholic dogma conflicted with American principles.30 The April 1928 issue devoted all its space to nine ACHA convention papers, all of which related to the historical development of Catholic teaching on “some of the principal intellectual problems of the present day.”31 Though moderate in tone, the articles were clearly intended to persuade fair-minded people that the Church’s position on various social and political issues was reasonable and did not offend against American principles.32 In October 1928, the CHR published Edward J. Byrne’s well-documented article on “The Religious Issue in National Politics,” which traced prejudice against Catholics from the “anti-Papal passion” of Queen Elizabeth I up to and including the Ku Klux Klan and “No-Popery” hysteria of the 1920s.33 After Smith’s defeat, Guilday, who was privately troubled by Catholic teaching on religious freedom and the church-state issue, nonetheless lashed out at those who had carried on “a studied propaganda of … damnable, obscene and calumnious lies” against the Catholic Church.34 But despite his indignation, Guilday was also concerned to prevent Catholics, embittered by the election, from giving way to “separatist” tendencies. He touched upon the matter in the April 1929 issue of the CHR. Drawing 30. CHR, 13 (1927), 227–65. The same issue carried James J. Walsh’s “Catholic Background of the Discovery of America,” CHR, 13 (1927), 175–93, which obviously bore upon the issue of Catholic Americanism. 31. “Proceedings of the Eighth Annual Meeting, American Catholic Historical Association, Washington, D.C., December 28–30, 1927,” CHR, 14 (1928), 3–12, here 3. 32. Among the contributors were John A. Ryan on “The Attitude of the Church toward Freedom of Speech,” CHR, 14 (1928), 96–103; Moorhouse F. X. Millar on “The Origin of Sound Democratic Principles in Catholic Tradition,” ibid., 104–26; William F. Sands on “The Church and Political Government,” ibid., 127–56; Clarence E. Martin on “The American Judiciary and Religious Liberty,” ibid., 14 (1928), 13–37; Joseph C. Husslein on “The Church’s Social Work through the Ages,” ibid., 81–95; and John K. Cartwright on “Contributions of the Papacy to International Peace,” ibid., 157–68. 33. For Edward J. Byrne’s article, see CHR, 14 (1928), 329–64; this was the printed version of Byrne’s master’s thesis, completed that year at CUA, probably under Purcell’s direction. 34. This passage, from a speech given before a convention of the National Council of Catholic Men, was reported in National Catholic Welfare Conference Bulletin 10 (December 1928), 21, and partly reprinted in “Notes and Comment,” CHR, 14 (1929), 625–36, here 633. For the complexities of Guilday’s position on church-state, etc., see O’Brien, “Peter Guilday,” pp. 287, 298–302. PHILIP GLEASON 167 attention to Purcell’s recently published American history textbook, which was intended primarily for the Catholic school market, Guilday explained that “while the book does not suggest any separatist point of view, it quite naturally emphasizes the rise and development of the Catholic Church in America.” In addition, Purcell’s text made clear that nativist movements no longer “attracted the best Protestants”; on the contrary, nativism was now “condemned by the broad-minded and intelligent Protestants who are heartily ashamed of the bigotry of their backward brethren.”35 Segment 3: 1929 to 1941 Once again under Guilday’s guiding hand, the CHR entered upon the third phase of its development. Roughly 35 percent of the articles (fortyfive of 127) published in that twelve-year span dealt with American Catholic history. In the same period, 16 percent of the book reviews (123 of 789) focused on works in that field. Articles about Canada or Latin America were rare, except when those areas were featured in meetings of the ACHA. Thus a half-dozen papers relating to Canada given at the 1932 convention, which met in Toronto, appeared as articles in the following year. Similarly, when the 1939 convention took as its theme “the role of Catholic culture in the Latin American Republics,” ten papers given there were published in the CHR over the next thirteen months. Aside from listing his ACHA convention reports as Miscellany items rather than articles, and introducing subheads in the book review section (which he began doing in April 1931 and October 1940, respectively), Guilday made no changes in the CHR’s format during this period. Nor was there an immediately noticeable difference in the quality of its contents. Yet one senses that American Catholic historiography was moving toward a new level of maturity in the 1930s. That was partly due, no doubt, to the gradually increasing number of investigators in a still quite young area of specialization. But an episode of revisionism, along with the emergence of broadly defined areas of thematic concentration, suggest that historical scholarship on American Catholicism had begun to build upon itself. The revisionist episode concerned the role played by French ecclesiastics in the organization of the American Catholic Church after the American Revolution. The need for a new organizational structure was a byproduct of American independence, which severed the tenuous juridical 35. “Notes and Comment,” CHR, 15 (1929), 115–23, here 123. For Guilday’s earlier concern about separatism, see note 14. 168 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM relationship formerly existing between the Catholic clergymen in the American colonies and the vicar apostolic of London. Because France was an ally in the war, and the peace talks took place in Paris, French churchmen who were on the scene took an interest in the matter and served as intermediaries in communications between Rome and the diplomatic representatives of the new republic. From their researches into these matters, John Gilmary Shea and Peter Guilday both concluded that these clerics hatched a plan to subject American Catholics to the authority of a French bishop residing in Europe. To Shea, this was nothing less than a “scheme for the enslavement of American Catholics,” a formulation Guilday endorsed.36 Jules A. Baisnée, a French-born priest teaching at the Sulpician seminary attached to CUA, felt “almost instinctively” that this version of events could not be correct—feelings understandable in a former French army chaplain who had been wounded at Ypres and awarded the Croix de Guerre and the Medaille Militaire.37 Although he had not been trained as an historian, Baisnée set out to analyze the documentary sources himself. Considering that Guilday’s own work was being critiqued, he acted graciously in inviting Baisnée to preview his findings in the January 1934 issue of the CHR. In the Miscellany item he produced, and in a book-length study published later that year, Baisnée made a persuasive case that Shea and Guilday had erred in believing that anything like a French scheme to control the American Catholic Church ever existed.38 But that was not quite the end of the story. In a lengthy CHR review, Peter Leo Johnson, priest-professor of church history at St. Francis Seminary in Milwaukee, conceded that the extreme views of Shea and Guilday were no longer tenable, but he was doubtful about Baisnée’s attributing everything the French did to purely altruistic motives.39 After a lapse of three years, Baisnée published a rejoinder producing new evidence that undercut the grounds for Johnson’s most serious misgivings—without, perhaps, overcoming his skepticism on the subject of French altruism.40 36. In Guilday’s article on Carroll’s appointment as prefect apostolic (see note 10 above), Guilday said that Shea “not unjustly” called the scheme “a plot for the enslavement” of American Catholics. See Guilday, “Carroll,” p. 210. 37. For these details, see “Notes and Comment,” CHR, 7 (1922), 534–76, here 559–60. 38. Jules A. Baisnée, “The Myth of the ‘French Scheme for the Enslavement of American Catholics,’” CHR, 19 (1934), 437–59; France and the Establishment of the American Hierarchy: The Myth of French Interference, 1782–1784 (Baltimore, 1934). 39. For Peter Leo Johnson’s review, see CHR, 21 (1935), 88–93. 40. Jules A. Baisnée, “France and the Establishment of the American Hierarchy: An Epilogue to a Controversy,” CHR, 24 (1938), 175–89. PHILIP GLEASON 169 The rejoinder did, however, cement a historiographic consensus in Baisnée’s favor. The history of women’s religious communities in the United States, which had already established itself as an active field of research, became a staple of the book review section of the CHR during the years 1929–41.41 In addition to two general studies—Joseph B. Code’s Great American Foundresses (1929) and Elinor T. Dehey’s Religious Orders of Women in the United States (1930)—eighteen other studies of individual communities or leaders were reviewed in this period. In 1937, Code published a twentyfour-page “Select Bibliography of the Religious Orders and Congregations of Women Founded in the Present Boundaries of the United States (1727–1850)”—a listing that required updating three years later.42 Nativist anti-Catholicism was a second area of concentration in this period. As noted earlier, Purcell’s graduate students—mostly women religious—opened up the topic in the 1920s and added significantly to the literature through the next decade. Oddly enough, only one of the six published dissertations they produced was reviewed in the CHR.43 In what was perhaps his first published piece on nativism, Ray Allen Billington contributed a “Tentative Bibliography of Anti-Catholic Propaganda in the United States, 1800–1860,” as a Miscellany item to the January 1933 issue of the CHR. That was followed by Billington’s article “Maria Monk and Her Influence” (October 1936) and by his magisterial The Protestant Crusade, 1800–1860: A Study of the Origins of American Nativism, which was reviewed by Arthur J. Riley in the January 1940 issue of the CHR.44 Riley himself had already dealt with anti-Catholic prejudice in his Catholicism in New England to 1788 (1936), and Sr. Mary Augustina Ray’s American Opinion of Roman Catholicism in the Eighteenth Century was also published in 1936.45 41. For earlier work in the field, see Peter Guilday, “The Obligation of Priests to Foster Vocations,” Ecclesiastical Review, 84 (1931), 538–39. 42. The first version appeared as a Miscellany item in CHR, 23 (1937), 331–51; the revision in CHR, 26 (1940), 222–45. 43. Sr. Paul of the Cross McGrath, Political Nativism in Texas, 1825–1860 (Washington, DC, 1930), CHR, 17 (1931), 96–97. For a listing of the published dissertations directed by Purcell, see Cadden, Historiography of the American Catholic Church, p. 106n49. 44. For Ray Allen Billington’s articles, see CHR, 18 (1933), 492–513, and CHR, 22 (1936), 283–96, respectively; for Arthur J. Riley’s review, see CHR, 25 (1940), 467–70. 45. Riley’s book was a Guilday-directed dissertation; Ray’s work was done at Columbia University. For reviews, see CHR, 23 (1937), 222–24 (for the Riley book); CHR, 24 (1938), 366–67 (for the Ray book). 170 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM Interest in missionaries and the role of Catholics in the early development of the country had been present from the CHR’s earliest days. However, it not only reached a new level of maturity in this period, but also contributed to the emerging critique of Frederick Jackson Turner’s “frontier thesis.” This development was related to historical work on two areas: the Spanish Southwest and early French activity in the Midwest.46 Between 1929 and 1941, the CHR published seven articles and fourteen book reviews dealing with Catholic developments in Texas and the Southwest. The names of Paul Foik and Carlos E. Castañeda were most prominently associated with work on Texas. The former, priest-president of St. Edward’s University in Austin, served as general editor of a sevenvolume series titled Our Catholic Heritage in Texas, a project supported by the historical commission of the Knights of Columbus in Texas. Castañeda, the lay scholar who actually wrote the books (four of which appeared in the period under consideration here), was the Latin American librarian at the University of Texas.47 The most influential writer on Spanish colonization in the Southwest and California was Herbert E. Bolton of the University of California. Although not a Catholic, he emphasized the role played by the “missions” established by Jesuit and Franciscan missionaries as seedbeds of subsequent development. On a more theoretical level, Bolton argued that efforts to understand the American past had been too narrowly focused on AngloAmerican expansion from the eastern seaboard and needed to be set in a broader hemispheric framework that took into account the influence of the Spanish, the French, and other colonizing nations. Catholic scholars welcomed Bolton’s work, both with respect to its focus on the missions and to its more far-reaching implications.48 46. By contrast, there was little to report in respect to missionary work among African Americans. John T. Gillard’s The Catholic Church and the American Negro (Baltimore, 1929) is the only work on the subject noted during this period. It was reviewed in CHR, 17 (1932), 495–96. 47. For reviews of these volumes, see CHR, 23 (1937), 91–92; CHR, 25 (1939), 343– 45; and CHR, 26 (1940), 353–54, respectively. For articles by Castañeda, see his “Earliest Catholic Activities in Texas,” CHR, 17 (1931), 278–95; “The Beginnings of University Life in America,” CHR, 24 (1938), 153–74; and “Pioneers in Sackcloth,” CHR, 25 (1939), 309– 26. For an early discussion of relevant source materials by Foik, see his “Survey of Source Materials for the Catholic History of the Southwest,” CHR, 15 (1929), 275–81. 48. Bolton’s “The Black Robes of New Spain,” CHR, 21 (1935), 257–82, was first presented at the ACHA convention in 1934. See also Castañeda, “Pioneers in Sackcloth,” pp. 309–26; and for reviews of Bolton’s works, see CHR, 17 (1931), 338–44, and CHR, 22 (1937), 457–58. PHILIP GLEASON 171 Bolton’s perspective obviously applied to the Great Lakes/Mississippi Valley region with its long history of French Catholic missionary and colonizing activity. John Gilmary Shea first established his reputation as a historian with publications in that field, and it continued to be an area of lively interest to Catholic scholars.49 At the ACHA’s 1938 convention, two speakers drew attention to the importance of Bolton’s perspective for understanding the early history of the Midwest, one of whom took pains to show how it corrected Turner’s thesis, which accorded no significance to the French and Spanish precursors of the American pioneer.50 By that time, a more general reaction against Turnerism was gaining ground. Within two years it had proceeded so far that, in reviewing a book about Catholic missionary work in Kansas, Joseph B. Code of CUA could speak dismissively of the frontier thesis, which was “passing as quickly and as surely as did the frontier itself.”51 Gilbert J. Garraghan eschewed historiographic commentary in his three-volume Jesuits of the Middle United States (1938). This work, one of the great achievements of American Catholic historical scholarship, provides a comprehensive and detailed account of Jesuit activities—missionary, educational, and pastoral—from Ohio to the Rocky Mountains between the 1820s and the 1930s. The editors of the CHR recognized its extraordinary quality by devoting the lead article of the April 1939 issue to an extended panegyric written by Bishop Joseph H. Schlarman of Peoria, Illinois. The article—a selective digest of Garraghan’s findings—includes a poignant passage that reminds us how close in time the protagonists in that “Jesuit epic” seemed to Catholics of Schlarman’s generation. Concerning the famous Jesuit missionary Pierre DeSmet, the bishop recalls that his father often spoke fondly of “Mr. DeSmet,” who was the elder Schlarman’s “prefect” during his student days at St. Louis University.52 49. Between 1929 and 1941, the CHR published six articles and eight book reviews on this topic. In 1936, Loyola University of Chicago established the Institute of Jesuit History to stimulate research in the area and took over editorial responsibility for the Illinois Catholic Historical Review, renaming it Mid-America: An Historical Review. 50. John Hugh O’Donnell, “The Catholic Church in Northern Indiana: 1830–1857,” CHR, 25 (1939), 135–45; Raphael N. Hamilton, “The Significance of the Frontier to the Historian of the Catholic Church in the United States,” CHR, 25 (1939), 160–78. Also relevant are Gilbert J. Garraghan, “Earliest Settlements of the Illinois Country,” CHR, 15 (1930), 351–62, and Garraghan, “The Ecclesiastical Rule of Old Quebec in Mid-America,” CHR, 19 (1933), 17–32. 51. Sr. Mary Paul Fitzgerald, Beacon on the Plains, reviewed by Joseph B. Code, CHR, 26 (1940), 355–56, here 355. 52. Joseph H. Schlarman, “The Jesuit Epic in Mid-America,” CHR, 25 (1939), 1–27, here 14. 172 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM Although quite different in character from Garraghan’s monumental work, Edward P. Lilly’s article “A Major Problem for Catholic Historians” likewise marked a significant milestone.53 Lilly broke new ground historiographically by declaring that the time was ripe for a new general history of American Catholicism. Shea’s volumes, incomplete and decades old, neither could nor should be updated because his organization was faulty and his focus too narrowly confined to “the physical development of the Church.”54 The contemporary understanding of history required a much broader approach that took into account the social and cultural dimensions of Catholic life, and analyzed of the place of the Church in American society. Lilly pointed to the work stimulated by Bolton’s ideas, by Guilday’s seminar, and by Loyola University’s Institute of Jesuit History, as evidence of widened interest in the subject. Additional research was, of course, needed on a number of topics, but specialized studies in themselves were not enough. Indeed, overspecialization tended to produce a disparate collection of individual studies unrelated to each other or to any larger pattern of development. Precisely that, in Lilly’s view, was “the fundamental weakness” of contemporary American Catholic historiography. Nor was a multiauthored “complete and definitive history,” written by specialists in different areas, “the most immediate need.” Rather, what the situation demanded was “a general, reliable narrative of the growth, influence and contribution of the Catholic Church in American civilization,” preferably written by a single author.55 When Lilly’s article appeared in January 1939, Theodore Maynard was almost certainly nearing completion of just that kind of broad, interpretive survey. Unfortunately, his Story of American Catholicism (1941) was reviewed in the CHR by an ardent devotee of “the hard and fast rules of modern scientific historiography,” who had no patience with “popularizers” unwilling to “bridle the steeds of their fancy.”56 Presumably, Leo F. Stock—a former president of the ACHA and “a careful editor of documents” (as Maynard described him on p. 578 of his book)—did not intend to be unfair, but his overwhelmingly negative tenpage review was, in my opinion, unjustifiably harsh and grievously unbal53. For Lilly’s article, see CHR, 24 (1939), 427–48. 54. Ibid., p. 431. 55. Ibid., pp. 441–42, 443. 56. Theodore Maynard, The Story of American Catholicism (New York, 1941), reviewed by Leo F. Stock, CHR, 28 (1942), 94–103, here 95. PHILIP GLEASON 173 anced. The genuine errors he listed were, for the most part, matters of detail (e.g., the Puritans arrived in Massachusetts Bay in 1630, not 1629). Moreover, Stock did not distinguish between factual mistakes and differences of opinion between himself and Maynard on matters of emphasis and historical judgment flowing from what he regarded as the book’s “lack of proportion, its individuality, its tone of personal conviction, its frequent excursions into realms other than history,” as well as the author’s obiter dicta and overemphasis on “human frailty” (e.g., in his references to priests who were “drunkards”).57 Stock’s review may not have hurt the book’s sales—it went through eight printings by 1951—but it poisoned the well as far as the book’s reputation among historians was concerned. Thus Carl Wittke favorably cited the review as an example of the CHR’s willingness to treat Catholic writers critically,58 and forty years after Stock’s review was published, the standard bibliographic Guide to American Catholic History cited it in drawing attention to the Maynard book’s “considerable oversimplification, conjecture, and inaccuracy.”59 The Story of American Catholicism unquestionably had its flaws, but, given the state of the discipline at the time, it was a remarkable achievement—one that deserves a careful modern reassessment. Segment 4 : 1 9 4 1 to 1 9 6 3 The fourth period of the CHR’s development was under the editorship of John Tracy Ellis. In that two-decade span, the CHR published 171 articles, of which sixty-seven (39 percent) dealt with the history of American Catholicism. Proportionately fewer book reviews—roughly 15 percent (just over 300 of almost 2000)—focused on that subject, as did two-thirds (fifty-five of eighty-four) of the journal’s Miscellany items.60 57. Ibid., pp. 94, 97. 58. Wittke, “Forty Years,” p. 13. Wittke’s description of Stock’s treatment of the Jefferson-Bellarmine issue is misleading: he seems to think Stock accused Maynard of perpetuating this “silly legend,” whereas Stock acknowledged that Maynard was more “sensible” on this point than other commentators. But Stock disagreed with Maynard about the latter’s emphasis on the contribution medieval Scholastics made to the limited-government tradition on which the Founders drew. 59. John Tracy Ellis and Robert Trisco, eds., A Guide to American Catholic History, 2nd ed., (Santa Barbara and Oxford, 1982), p. 14, item 72. 60. Aside from saying that he worked to maintain “the breadth of view that would insure the journal against a narrow eccleiasticism,” and that he sought to “cultivate a deep and 174 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM Before looking more closely at the topics covered in those articles and reviews, it is helpful to sketch the social, political, and ideological background of the period. Ellis took over as managing editor less than a year before the nation became embroiled in World War II; when he left that position, the Second Vatican Council was already well under way. These were years of rapid change, and echoes of contemporary developments can be detected in the pages of the CHR. World War II and its aftereffects shaped the most important developments of the era. On the practical level, the war ended the Great Depression and ushered in a generation-long economic boom. Postwar population growth, the widespread realization that education was the key to a better life, and the financial assistance provided by the GI Bill combined to set off a corresponding boom in higher education. All this contributed to the emergence of a sizable cohort of new researchers interested in church history. Building on the level of professional maturity already attained, that played a role in the CHR’s being recognized by the mid1950s as “an important historical journal which all historians, and especially those working in … cultural, intellectual, and religious history, cannot afford to ignore.”61 The inclusion of Ellis’s brief survey American Catholicism, in the Chicago History of American Civilization series, likewise testified to the increasing visibility of Catholic history as a significant element of the national story.62 The war also had a powerful impact in the realm of ideas. The fearsome rise of Nazi totalitarianism awakened among Americans a new appreciation of, and commitment to, the “values America stands for”— often summed up simply as “democracy.” Indeed, a great society-wide revival of “democracy” had already begun in the late 1930s and continued through the war years. American Catholics were, like everyone else, affected by this powerful current of ideological nationalism, which reinforced the sense of national belonging that grew out of their having genuine respect for history as an academic discipline,” Ellis did not discuss the CHR’s contents in his “Reflections of an Ex-Editor,” CHR, 50 (1965), 459–74. 61. Wittke, “Forty Years,” p. 14. As evidence of its growing stature, Wittke noted that the CHR attracted respected non-Catholic contributors. A notable example was Perry Miller, whose article “The Puritan Theory of the Sacraments in Seventeenth Century New England,” CHR, 22 (1937), 409–25, appeared in the January 1937 issue. Miller’s New England Mind (New York, 1938) was reviewed in January 1940, as was his anthology, The Transcendentalists (Cambridge, MA, 1950), in October 1951. 62. Published in 1956, Ellis’s book was reviewed in CHR, 43 (1957), 64–66. PHILIP GLEASON 175 taken part in a great common cause.63 On this account, Catholics were taken aback when their commitment to American principles was challenged in a series of controversies that arose almost immediately after the war ended. Actually, relations between Catholics and other Americans—Protestants, Jews, and secular liberals—had been fraying since the mid-1930s because of differences over a variety of domestic and foreign policy issues. Muffled during the war by the imperative of national unity, these tensions erupted in clashes over policy and sharp polemical exchanges when the war ended. Parochial schools—their attempts to obtain public funding, their alleged “divisiveness,” and the “authoritarian” nature of the religious teachings they purveyed—were the special focus of controversy in respect to church-state relations. More generally, many critics believed that the Catholic Church was irreconcilable with democracy by reason of its authoritarian organizational structure. The danger this represented was made worse by the fact that the American Church had grown greatly in numbers, institutional strength, and what non-Catholics regarded as “aggressiveness” in making its claims. In 1949, Paul Blanshard set forth the most elaborate statement of these charges in his American Freedom and Catholic Power (1949)—a bestseller hailed by leaders of the nation’s liberal intelligentsia.64 Such was the context within which Catholic historians turned their attention to the late-nineteenth-century “Americanist controversy.” And it is difficult to believe that the contemporary situation had nothing to do with a sudden burst of historical interest in a series of bygone quarrels among Catholics over how the Church should adjust itself to the social, political, and cultural institutions of the American republic. Nor does it seem surprising that most of the historians who undertook these researches tended to sympathize with the “Americanizers”—that is, those who maintained that the Church could, without endangering religious faith, adapt itself to American ways. 63. However, Catholics realized early on that secular humanists understood “ultimate values” and “education for democratic living” differently from the way Catholics did. See Mary Celeste Leger’s Miscellany item in CHR, 25 (1939), 327–37, and the review of Ross Hoffman’s Tradition and Progress (Milwaukee, 1938), CHR, 25 (1939), 338–39. 64. For fuller exposition of the interpretation sketched in this paragraph and the previous one, see Philip Gleason, Speaking of Diversity (Baltimore, 1992), chaps. 6–8, and John T. McGreevy, Catholicism and American Freedom (New York and London, 2003), chap. 6. 176 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM As used here, “Americanist controversy” encompasses the whole spectrum of intra-Catholic disputes between “liberals” and “conservatives” that broke out in the 1880s and ’90s. The subject had long been considered “too hot to handle,” and Ellis was cautious about featuring it at the December 1944 ACHA convention. But encouraged by colleagues and by the previous year’s lively discussion of the also sensitive topic of “trusteeism,” he went ahead.65 Papers given at that meeting by Thomas T. McAvoy and Vincent Holden—“Americanism, Fact or Fiction” and “A Myth in ‘L’Américanisme,’” respectively—were both published in the July 1945 issue of the CHR and seemed to open the floodgates of dammed-up interest in a subject that became the leading theme in the historiography of American Catholicism in the Ellis era.66 Over the next two years, four more articles appeared: John J. Meng’s two-part analysis of “Cahenslyism,” Peter Hogan’s “Americanism and the Catholic University of America,” and John T. Farrell’s “Archbishop Ireland and Manifest Destiny.”67 By 1947, books on the subject were appearing in rapid succession, and the review section became the main locus of the CHR’s coverage of Americanism.68 The most important of these books are Felix Klein’s memoirs of the controversy over what he called a “phantom heresy” (French language version, reviewed October 1949; English translation, January 1953); Henry J. Browne’s The Catholic Church and the Knights of Labor (January 1950); Ellis’s two-volume biography of Cardinal Gibbons (January 1953); 65. Before the 1944 meeting, Ellis reported to a close friend that several of his colleagues at CUA favored scheduling a session on Americanism and inquired, “Do you think it is still too hot?” Ellis to Edward V. Cardinal, January 20, 1944, ACUA, Ellis Papers. Two papers on trusteeism from the 1943 ACHA meeting appeared in the July 1944 issue of the CHR. 66. For these articles, see CHR, 31 (1945), 133–53, and CHR, 31 (1945), 154–70, respectively; before the 1944 ACHA meeting, Maynard’s Story of American Catholicism devoted a chapter to “The American Heresy” that began (pp. 498–99) with the observation that it was virtually unknown and unstudied. John J. Meng, “A Century of American Catholicism as Seen through French Eyes,” CHR, 27 (1941), 39–68, also touches lightly on Americanism. Curiously, Daniel F. Reilly, The School Controversy (1891–1893) (Washington, DC, 1943), a major contribution to the literature published in 1943, was not reviewed in the CHR although it was a CUA dissertation. For fuller bibliographical treatment, see Philip Gleason, “The New Americanism in Catholic Historiography,” U.S. Catholic Historian, 11, no. 3 (1993), 1–18. 67. For these articles, see CHR, 31 (1946), 389–413; CHR, 32 (1946), 302–40; CHR, 33 (1947), 158–90; and CHR, 33 (1947), 269–301, respectively. 68. Deserving of note here, although not devoted to Americanism as such, is Joseph P. McSorley’s Father Hecker and His Friends (St. Louis, 1952), reviewed in CHR, 39 (1953), 62–63. PHILIP GLEASON 177 Colman Barry’s The Catholic Church and German Americans (October 1953); James A. Moynihan’s biography of Archbishop John Ireland (October 1953); Patrick H. Ahern’s biography of Bishop John J. Keane (July 1955); Thomas T. McAvoy’s The Great Crisis in American Catholic History (April 1958); and Robert D. Cross’s The Emergence of Liberal Catholicism in America (July 1958).69 In 1960, Aaron I. Abell, the leading authority on social Catholicism, associated that movement with “the core idea in Americanism, namely, the desire to win recruits from the non-Catholic population and to make the Church an integral and vitally important aspect of American civilization.”70 To my knowledge, the linkage Abell proposed has never been systematically explored. But it clearly applied to the Knights of Labor case, and the study of social reform was second only to Americanism as a major theme in American Catholic historiography. Even before Henry J. Browne published his book on the Knights of Labor, he had already contributed an article about the organization’s leader, Terence V. Powderly, to the CHR (April 1946), as well as a Miscellany item on the labor priest Peter E. Dietz.71 Dietz was also the subject of a book-length study by Mary Harrita Fox.72 The autobiography of Msgr. John A. Ryan, the leading figure in Catholic reform activity, was reviewed early in Ellis’s editorship, and Francis L. Broderick’s biography of Ryan was reviewed some twenty years later.73 Broderick also reviewed Abell’s comprehensive survey American Catholicism and Social Action.74 Two other articles published in this period dealt with reform issues: Sr. M. Evangela’s “Bishop Spalding’s Work on the Anthracite Coal Strike Com- 69. For these reviews, see CHR, 35 (1949), 313–16, and later CHR, 38 (1953), 435– 36; CHR, 35 (1950), 457–58; CHR, 38 (1953), 426–33; CHR, 39 (1953), 320–22; CHR, 39 (1953), 322–24; CHR, 41 (1955), 188–90; CHR, 44 (1958), 29–31; and CHR, 44 (1958), 233–34, respectively. 70. Aaron I. Abell, American Catholicism and Social Action: A Search for Social Justice, 1865–1950 (New York, 1960), p. 24. 71. Henry J. Browne, “Terence V. Powderly and Church-Labor Difficulties of the Early 1880s,” CHR, 32 (1946), 1–27; “Peter E. Dietz, Pioneer Planner of Catholic Social Action,” CHR, 33 (1948), 448–56. 72. Mary Harrita Fox, Peter E. Dietz: Labor Priest (Notre Dame, 1953), reviewed in CHR, 40 (1954), 215–18. 73. For these reviews, see CHR, 27 (1942), 460–62, and CHR, 49 (1963), 247–48, respectively; Broderick also discussed Ryan’s work in his ACHA presidential address; see CHR, 55 (1969), 1–6. 74. CHR, 47 (1961), 235–36. 178 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM mission” and Abell’s “American Catholic Reaction to Industrial Conflict: The Arbitral Process, 1885–1900.”75 More obviously related to the contemporary scene were the CHR’s five articles and fifteen reviews published between 1950 and 1962 on the closely related subjects of church-state relations and education. Ellis himself confronted the issue at the most general level in his October 1952 review essay of Anson Phelps Stokes’s three-volume Church and State in the United States.76 Articles of a more specialized nature include Harry J. Siever on Catholic Indian schools as an issue in the 1892 presidential election; Henry J. Browne on public aid for Catholic education in New York between 1825 and 1842; M. Carolyn Klinkhamer on the Blaine Amendment of 1875; and John Whitney Evans on the Blair Education Bill of the 1880s.77 Interestingly, Blanshard’s American Freedom and Catholic Power was not reviewed in the CHR, although James M. O’Neill’s Catholicism and American Freedom (1952), a rebuttal of Blanshard’s charges, was. Other reviews relevant to the church-state issue included Thomas T. McAvoy’s assessment of Jerome G. Kerwin’s Catholic Viewpoint on Church and State, and Francis G. Wilson’s review of We Hold These Truths, by John Courtney Murray.78 The publication in 1955 of Will Herberg’s influential ProtestantCatholic-Jew, which recognized Catholicism as one of the “three great faiths of democracy,” gave evidence that the exaggerated fear of “Catholic power” had abated. Interreligious tensions did not altogether disappear, but in the late 1950s, books like Philip Scharper’s American Catholics: A Protestant-Jewish View and Gustave Weigel’s Faith and Understanding in America pointed toward the ecumenism that would flourish after the Second Vatican Council.79 And though the “Catholic issue” was still a 75. For these articles, see CHR, 28 (1942), 184–205, and CHR, 41 (1956), 385–407, respectively. 76. CHR, 38 (1952), 285–316. 77. Harry J. Sievers, “The Catholic Indian School Issue and the Presidential Election of 1892,” CHR, 38 (1952), 129–55; Henry J. Browne, “Public Support of Catholic Education in New York, 1825–1842: Some New Aspects,” CHR, 39 (1953), 1–27; Sr. Marie Carolyn Klinkhamer, “The Blaine Amendment of 1875: Private Motives for Political Action,” CHR, 42 (1956), 15–49; and John Whitney Evans, “Catholics and the Blair Education Bill,” CHR, 46 (1960), 273–98. 78. For reviews, see CHR, 38 (1952), 330–31 (O’Neill); CHR, 46 (1961), 470–72 (Kerwin); and CHR, 47 (1961), 41–42 (Murray). 79. For reviews, see CHR, 42 (1956), 214–15 (Herberg); CHR, 46 (1960), 205–6 (Weigel); and CHR, 46 (1960), 206–07 (Scharper). PHILIP GLEASON 179 political factor, John F. Kennedy’s election as president in 1960 gave further evidence that Catholics had attained a new level of acceptance in American society. Nativist anti-Catholicism got a good deal of historical attention in the 1950s, but only one of the CHR’s seven articles and one of the eight reviews that fall into that classification focused on recent events.80 John Higham’s classic Strangers in the Land: Patterns of American Nativism, 1865–1925, was reviewed in the October 1956 issue; two years later, Higham outlined a different approach to the subject in an important article titled “Another Look at Nativism.”81 Two articles explored the anti-Catholicism of the American Protective Association.82 Of particular interest among the remaining articles and reviews is Clifford Griffin’s “Converting the Catholics,” which suggests that the proselytizing campaign mounted by evangelical Protestants in the 1830s and ’40s should be seen as an effort to eliminate a satanic evil—Romanism— obstructing the millennial hopes aroused by the revivalistic enthusiasm of those decades.83 Besides being tangled with religion in nativist thinking, ethnic considerations figured prominently in intra-Catholics issues like trusteeism and Americanism. However, only one article in this period—Mason Wade’s “The French Parish and Survivance in Nineteenth-Century New England”—dealt specifically with a Catholic immigrant group’s efforts to preserve its ethnic identity.84 The most comprehensive account of a Catholic ethnic group’s experience was Carl Wittke’s The Irish in America. Also comprehensive in intent, but filiopietistic in approach, was Joseph A. Wytrwal’s America’s Polish Heritage.85 More characteristic of the dozen or 80. F. William O’Brien, “General Clark’s Nomination as Ambassador to the Vatican: American Reaction,” CHR, 44 (1959), 421–39; the review was of one of Paul Blanshard’s later books, CHR, 47 (1961), 50–51. 81. For the review, see CHR, 42 (1956), 375–76; for Higham’s article, see CHR, 44 (1958), 147–58. Accompanying Higham’s second thoughts on nativism in the July 1958 issue of the CHR were two other articles on the subject: one by Colman Barry, the other by Gilbert Cahill. 82. Joseph S. Brusher, “Peter C. Yorke and the A.P.A. in San Francisco,” CHR, 37 (1951), 129–50; K. Gerald Marsden, “Father Marquette and the A.P.A.: An Incident in American Nativism,” CHR, 46 (1960), 1–21. 83. Clifford S. Griffin, “Converting the Catholics: American Benevolent Societies and the Ante-Bellum Crusade against the Church,” CHR, 47 (1961), 325–41. 84. For Wade’s article, see CHR, 36 (1950), 163–89. 85. For reviews, see CHR, 42 (1956), 373–74, and CHR, 48 (1962), 444–45, respectively. 180 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM so immigrant-oriented books reviewed in this period were monographic studies of immigrants in various localities, of the institutions they established, and of leading figures in the various groups.86 One group remained all but invisible historically: Albert Foley’s God’s Men of Color: The Colored Catholic Priests of the United Sates, 1776–1954, was the only book about African American Catholics reviewed in the CHR in these years.87 Madeleine Hooke Rice’s American Catholic Opinion in the Slavery Controversy was, however, reviewed in the July 1944 issue.88 Toward the end of Ellis’s editorship, Willard E. Wight contributed three articles analyzing the Confederate sympathies of three Catholic bishops in the South during the Civil War.89 Other aspects of Catholic social and intellectual history were well represented in the CHR during this period. Thus plans to colonize Catholics in the West were examined in an October 1950 article by Henry J. Browne, and in a January 1958 review of James P. Shannon’s book on Archbishop Ireland’s efforts in that area. In April 1962, Robert D. Cross contributed an article on a closely related topic: “The Changing Image of the City among American Catholics.” Of particular interest are two articles exploring the views on Catholicism held by Henry David Thoreau and Nathaniel Hawthorne.90 Documents relating to the “Ontologism” of their New England contemporary Orestes A. Brownson were published in the October 86. See, for example, reviews of books about the Irish in Wisconsin (CHR, 41 [1955], 70–71); about a monastic institution founded by German Benedictines (CHR, 43 [1957], 68– 70); and about the Irish Catholic journalist John Boyle O’Reilly (CHR, 42 [1956], 361–62). 87. Reviewed in CHR, 42 (1956), 226–27. Oddly enough, Foley’s earlier book about a black Catholic churchman (Bishop Healy: Beloved Outcaste [New York, 1954]) was not reviewed in the CHR, which did, however, review E. Franklin Frazier, The Negro in the United States (New York, 1949), CHR, 36 (1950), 83–84. 88. CHR, 30 (1944), 180–81. 89. Willard E. Wight covered Patrick Lynch of Charleston in “Some Wartime Letters of Bishop Lynch,” CHR, 43 (1957), 20–37; William Elder of Natchez in “Bishop Elder and the Civil War,” CHR, 44 (1958), 290–306; and Augustin Verot of Savannah in “Bishop Verot and the Civil War,” CHR, 47 (1961), 153–63. 90. Henry J. Browne, “Archbishop Hughes and Western Colonization,” CHR, 36 (1950), 257–85; for the review of Shannon’s work, see CHR, 43 (1958), 496–97; for Cross’s article, see CHR, 48 (1962), 33–52; Lawrence Willson’s “Thoreau and Roman Catholicism,” CHR, 42 (1956), 157–72, shows that, despite his generally scornful view of the Catholic religion, Thoreau studied the writings of the Jesuit and Recollect missionaries in North America and greatly admired the missionaries themselves. Henry G. Fairbanks’s “Hawthorne and Confession,” CHR, 43 (1957), 38–45, ties Hawthorne’s attraction to confession to his preoccupation with sin and guilt. PHILIP GLEASON 181 1942 issue of the CHR, and Theodore Maynard’s biography of Brownson was reviewed in October 1944.91 The centenary of Darwin’s Origin of Species, first published in 1859, prompted a spate of publications about the book and its author, to which historians of American Catholicism made their own modest contribution. In July 1959, John Rickards Betts published a thorough historical survey of “Darwinism, Evolution, and American Catholic Thought, 1860–1900,” and two years later Ralph Weber’s biography of John A. Zahm—a priestscientist who sought to reconcile Darwinism with the faith—was reviewed.92 Chapter 5 of Walter Ong’s American Catholic Crossroads offered a strongly developmentalist view of knowledge, and Harry W. Kirwin’s article “James J. Walsh: Medical Historian and Pathfinder,” though not about Darwinism as such, examined the career of a man active in the religion versus science controversies of the day.93 It would, however, be seriously misleading to conclude from the foregoing discussion that the CHR’s coverage of American Catholic topics was unbalanced in its attention to issues of current concern. Rather, its articles and reviews did full justice to what had by then become traditional areas of historical interest. Thus between April 1945 and January 1950, biographies of four bishops and four priests were reviewed along with two biographies of Mother Cabrini, a life of Rose Hawthorne Lathrop, and a volume of the letters of Mother Angela Gillespie. Interest in missionaries likewise continued, including a book reviewed in October 1943 describing the work of the Loretto Sisters in the Rockies.94 The early days of the Loretto Sisters in Kentucky were among the activities covered in J. Herman Schauinger’s pioneering Cathedrals in the Wilderness.96 Robert H. Lord, John E. Sexton, and Edward T. Harrington’s three-volume history of the Archdiocese of Boston was hailed in a January 1945 Miscellany item as “A Major Contribution to the History of the American Church.”96 A dozen or so source documents and descriptions of archival 91. Thomas T. McAvoy, “Brownson’s Ontologism,” CHR, 28 (1942), 376–81; for the review of Maynard’s work, see CHR, 30 (1944), 314–17. 92. For Betts’s article, see CHR, 45 (1959), 161–85; for the review of Weber’s work, see CHR, 47 (1961), 393–95. 93. For the review of Ong’s work, see CHR, 46 (1960), 68–69; for Kirwin’s article, see CHR, 45 (1960), 409–35. 94. CHR, 29 (1943), 373–74. 95. Reviewed in CHR, 39 (1953), 60–62. 96. CHR, 30 (1945), 427–49. 182 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM sources appeared in the CHR, and the first edition of Ellis’s invaluable Documents of American Catholic History was reviewed in April 1957.97 Two issues of national concern—anticommunism and anti-intellectualism—were conspicuously not treated in the CHR during Ellis’s editorship. That is perhaps not so surprising in the case of anticommunism, for though it was a highly controversial contemporary issue, it had not yet attracted the attention of historians of American Catholicism.98 The case of anti-intellectualism is more complicated, for it had definitely attracted the attention of Ellis, who published in 1955 a severe critique of the shortcomings of American Catholic intellectual life.99 But despite the fact that he marshaled historical evidence to establish the existence of the problem, and to support his interpretation of its causes, Ellis did not publish his essay “American Catholics and the Intellectual Life” in the CHR. Rather, he submitted it to Thought, a scholarly Catholic quarterly published by Fordham University, whose offerings encompassed the whole range of the humanities and general cultural commentary. Although I have seen no direct evidence on the matter, it seems reasonable to suggest that Ellis considered his essay to be a work of cultural commentary and therefore inappropriate for publication in the CHR itself.100 Nor did the CHR take part in the “great debate” over “Catholic anti-intellectualism,” and the ensuing “search for excellence,” set off by his article.101 But whatever Ellis’s scruples may have been about preserving the CHR’s strictly “historical” character, there is no question that his essay made history. It gave expression to—and greatly strengthened—the dissatisfaction already felt by progressive American Catholics with their coreligionists’ “separatism,” “siege mentality,” and the pervasive complacency that would soon be called “triumphalism.” In short, the Ellis-inspired spirit 97. CHR, 43 (1957), 62–64; also deserving of note as a documentary source is James F. Connelly’s edition of, and commentary upon, the official report of Archbishop Gaetano Bedini’s untimely visit to the United States in 1853–54. Reviewed in CHR, 47 (1961), 234–35. 98. For McCarthyism, see note 130. 99. For the essay itself, see Thought, 30 (1955), 351–88. For discussion, see Gleason, Contending with Modernity, pp. 287–96. 100. In the preface to the revised edition of his American Catholicism (Chicago, 1969), p. xiii, Ellis wrote: “The historian must, however, eschew the role of recorder and commentator on current events, since he cannot serve both roles in a satisfactory manner.” 101. When published as a book (by the Heritage Foundation of Chicago in 1956), American Catholics and the Intellectual Life was not reviewed in the CHR. In the only reference to the essay and its influence I could find in the CHR, Justus George Lawler began his review of Francis L. Christ and Gerard Sherry’s anthology American Catholicism and the Intellectual Ideal, CHR, 47 (1961), 395–96, by noting that it was “an offshoot” of Ellis’s essay. PHILIP GLEASON 183 of Catholic “self-criticism” carried over into the 1960s and prepared the ground for the more radical reexamination of Catholic beliefs and practices associated with the Second Vatican Council. Segment 5: 1963 to 1982 The next phase of the CHR’s coverage of American Catholic history includes the entire forty-three-year editorship of Robert Trisco, which extended from April 1963 to October 2005. For convenience of exposition, I have divided this heroic span—almost half the lifetime of the CHR—into two periods of roughly equal length. In the first of these subperiods—1963–83—the CHR published 222 articles, of which sixty (c. 27 percent) dealt with the history of American Catholicism. A slightly lower proportion of the Miscellany items (fourteen of sixty-seven, by my count) had the same focus, but only about 8 percent of the book reviews (275 of some 3400) featured American Catholic topics. My treatment of this mass of scholarship must necessarily be selective. But first a word about the overall social, cultural, and religious milieu in which historians of American Catholic historians found themselves in those days. For the Catholic Church as such, the great event of the era was the Second Vatican Council, which met from 1962 to 1965. Its enactments, farreaching in themselves, seemed all the more revolutionary because of the controversies that accompanied their formulation, and because they were received in the United States in the midst of the nation’s deepest social, political, and cultural crisis since the Civil War. For although the decade opened in the hopeful atmosphere of President Kennedy’s “new frontier,” his assassination in 1963 presaged an era marked by intensifying racial violence, campus disruptions, antiwar protests, defiance of existing authority, and the dissolution of traditional norms governing drug use, sexual behavior, and gender roles. In this sociocultural maelstrom, everything became intermingled as the rhetoric of religious prophecy merged with that of revolutionary politics, and gestures of ritual sacrifice accompanied political dissent. By 1969, the impact on American Catholics of this confluence of forces was such that Ellis could compare the “revolutionary transformation” through which the Church was passing to the Reformation of the sixteenth century.102 102. Ellis, American Catholicism (2nd ed., Chicago, 1969), p. 163. Ellis’s ninety-onepage chapter 5 of this revised edition provides a fine contemporary survey of events between 1956 and 1968. In his Catholic America (New York, 1973), John Cogley called the 1960s “the most dramatic, critical ten years in American Catholic history” (p. 117). 184 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM In these circumstances, it took time for historians of American Catholicism to come to grips with the rapidly changing socioreligious landscape. The first commentators whose works were noted in the CHR were Francis J. Lally and Daniel Callahan, neither of whom was a historian. Writing in the glow of the early Kennedy years, both portrayed the Church’s situation in positive terms—as a people, Catholics had outgrown the status of immigrants, and a new generation of well-educated laymen and laywomen faced the future in a confidently critical frame of mind.103 In October 1965, Archbishop Paul J. Hallinan of Atlanta, just back from the Council himself, emphasized the relevance to the present situation of James Hennesey’s The First Council of the Vatican: The American Experience (1963). Five years later, the conciliar reflections of Bishop Robert E. Tracy of Baton Rouge were reviewed in the same April 1970 issue as Vincent A. Yzermans’s American Participation in the Second Vatican Council, which provided a comprehensive edition of, and expert commentary on, the interventions by American bishops in the deliberations of the Council Fathers.104 By that time, deep divisions of opinion existed among American Catholics. For some, the council validated change as such: to meet their expectations, change could not come too fast or extend too far. Others, however, took alarm at what seemed a total rejection of the Catholicism they had always known, a development symbolized most dramatically by the massive exodus from the priesthood and religious life that began in the wake of the council. At first, only remote echoes of this spiritual turmoil found their way into the CHR because, as a historical journal, it did not review works of current commentary like James Hitchcock’s Decline and Fall of Radical Catholicism (1971); Garry Wills’s Bare Ruined Choirs (1972); or editor Philip Gleason’s Contemporary Catholicism in the United States (1969), a volume containing fourteen original essays by various authorities on different aspects of the changing scene. David J. O’Brien’s The Renewal of American Catholicism (1972), the first book-length analysis of the current scene written by a practicing historian of American Catholicism, reflected a generally positive view of the overall direction of change and looked to the future with guarded opti- 103. Lally’s The Catholic Church in a Changing America (Boston, 1962), reviewed in CHR, 49 (1963), 249; Callahan’s The Mind of the Catholic Layman (New York, 1963), reviewed in CHR, 50 (1965), 623–24. 104. Hallinan, “The American Bishops at the Vatican Councils,” CHR, 51 (1965), 379–83. For the relevant reviews, see CHR, 56 (1970), 203–4 (Tracy); CHR, 56 (1970), 204– 06 (Yzermans). PHILIP GLEASON 185 mism.105 Among more specialized studies, the most impressive was The Catholic Priest in the United States: Historical Investigations (1971), a volume edited by Ellis as part of a multidisciplinary study of what James Hennesey characterized in his CHR review (April 1974) as “the contemporary crisis of the priesthood.”106 Several years later, Philip J. Murnion analyzed differences between older and younger priests in New York in respect to the training they received, their self-image as priests, and their understanding of pastoral ministry. The same issue of the CHR (April 1980) in which his book was reviewed also included reviews of a book dealing with changes among religious communities of women and another that traced shifting attitudes toward war and peace among American Catholics.107 The new emphasis on ecumenism had begun to register in the review section, and Albert C. Outler’s 1972 ACHA presidential address drew attention to “History as an Ecumenical Resource.”108 Among articles in the CHR, Philip Gleason’s essay “Mass and Maypole Revisited: American Catholics and the Middle Ages”109 was the first to take explicit note of the contemporary upheaval. In it, the sudden reversal of American Catholics’ hitherto glowing vision of the Middle Ages served as the springboard for a historical analysis of the rise and fall of Catholic medievalism. Two ACHA presidential addresses of the 1970s likewise focused on the postconciliar upheaval. Assessing the situation in the year of the U.S. Bicentennial, Colman J. Barry acknowledged the con- 105. Reviewed in CHR, 60 (1974), 115–16. O’Brien had earlier explored the historiographic implications of the changes in the Church; see his “American Catholic Historiography: A Post-Conciliar Evaluation,” Church History, 37 (1968), 80–94. 106. This volume, reviewed in CHR, 60 (1974), 101–2, comprises John Tracy Ellis’s pioneering survey of American seminary education; Robert Trisco’s ground-breaking exploration of historical tensions between priests and bishops; Michael Gannon’s influential critique of the “intellectual isolation of the American priest”; John P. Marschall’s review of relations between diocesan priests and those belonging to religious communities; and David J. O’Brien’s essay on the role played by priests in social reform activities. 107. These volumes are Murnion, The Catholic Priest and the Changing Structure of Pastoral Ministry, New York, 1920–1970 (New York, 1978), reviewed in CHR, 66 (1980), 265– 66; Sr. M. Charles McGrath, The Yes Heard Round the World (Paola, KS, 1975), reviewed in CHR, 66 (1980), 273–74; and Patricia F. McNeal, The American Catholic Peace Movement, 1928–1972 (New York, 1978), reviewed in CHR, 66 (1980), 266–67. 108. See the reviews of Lerond Curry’s sketch of Protestant-Catholic relations from 1928 to 1972 in CHR, 61 (1975), 575–76, and of a book about Father Paul of Graymore, a pioneer in ecumenism, in CHR, 63 (1977), 46–48. Professor Outler of Southern Methodist University was the first non-Catholic to serve as president of the ACHA. For his address, subtitled “The Protestant Discovery of ‘Tradition,’ 1952–1963,” see CHR, 59 (1973), 1–13. 109. CHR, 57 (1971), 249–74. 186 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM tinuing existence of “disorder, defection, and confusion in the American Catholic community,” but he also discerned signs of spiritual renewal in such areas as ecumenism, the charismatic and marriage encounter movements, and in the growing interest in religion and theology as elements in young people’s search for meaning. Two years later, Gleason’s presidential address argued that the “integrally unified” worldview absorbed by American Catholics in the years preceding the Council intensified the shock of the changes set in motion by the Council.110 Besides reactions to the Council, the early years of Trisco’s editorship were notable for significant anniversaries. The Bicentennial of U.S. independence in 1976 was, of course, a major national event, but for Catholic historians the fourth centenary of the founding in 1565 of St. Augustine as the first permanent Catholic settlement in Florida also demanded commemoration. Three articles and a Miscellany item relating to that event appeared in the October 1965 issue of the CHR along with a review of Michael Gannon’s biography of Augustin Verot, who was named first bishop of St. Augustine in 1870.111 A review in the same October 1965 issue of John Francis Bannon’s Bolton and the Spanish Borderlands testified to Catholic historians’ continuing interest in missionary work in other regions.112 Indeed, missions and missionaries remained a very popular genre of American Catholic historiography—more than fifty book reviews dealing with that topic appeared in the CHR between 1963 and 1983. The American Catholic hierarchy’s major bicentennial project was a social action campaign aimed at realizing “Liberty and Justice for All.” But the bishops also sponsored the publication of Catholics in America, 1776– 1976, a historical volume edited by Robert Trisco, and lent their support to the publication of the papers of John Carroll, the founding bishop of the American hierarchy.113 The CHR itself marked the occasion with a special bicentennial issue (July 1976) devoted almost exclusively to American Catholic history. The first of its six articles, Arlene Swidler’s retrospective 110. Colman J. Barry, “The Bicentennial Revisited,” CHR, 63 (1977), 369–91, here 371; Philip Gleason, “In Search of Unity: American Catholic Thought, 1920–1960,” CHR, 65 (1979), 185–205. 111. CHR, 51 (1965), 305–78, for Florida articles; CHR, 51 (1965), 389–90, for review of Gannon’s biography of Verot. 112. CHR, 51 (1965), 391–92. 113. Catholics in America, reviewed in CHR, 63 (1977), 639–40, consisted of sixty brief articles by different authors on a wide variety of topics and personalities that had been distributed to Catholic newspapers during the bicentennial year. For more on the John Carroll Papers, see note 136. PHILIP GLEASON 187 “Catholics and the 1876 Centennial,”114 was the most clearly topical; the other articles (and about three-quarters of the books reviewed) also dealt with American Catholic history. Taken together, they furnish a historiographic snapshot of the topics of greatest interest at that time and for several years to come. One such topic was the emergence of what might be called the second generation of scholarship on Americanism. Two items in the bicentennial issue—Samuel J. Thomas’s article “The American Periodical Press and the Apostolic Letter Testem Benevolentiae” and the review of Gerald P. Fogarty’s The Vatican and the Americanist Crisis—exemplify this development, as does Thomas Wangler’s “John Ireland and the Origins of Liberal Catholicism in the United States,” published a few years earlier.115 Robert Emmett Curran likewise made important contributions to this literature: his article on the McGlynn affair appeared in the same CHR issue (April 1980) in which his Michael Augustine Corrigan and the Shaping of Conservative Catholicism in America, 1878–1902, was reviewed. Michael J. DeVito’s The New York Review (1905–1908), also reviewed in the April 1980 issue, illustrates the postconciliar shift toward a greater interest in, and more sympathetic interpretation of, modernist tendencies in the American church.116 Catholic involvement in social reform continued to attract historians’ attention.117 A volume of readings from the Catholic Worker reviewed in the April 1970 issue constituted the first notice taken by the CHR of the movement founded by Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin. Six years later, William D. Miller’s biography of Dorothy Day was reviewed.118 The role of women in social reform likewise figured in James J. Kenneally’s 114. CHR, 62 (1976), 349–65. 115. CHR, 62 (1976), 408–23 (Thomas article); CHR, 62 (1976), 512–13 (Fogarty review); CHR, 56 (1970), 617–29 (Wangler article). 116. CHR, 66 (1980), 184–204 (article on McGlynn); CHR, 66 (1980), 258–59 (review of book on Corrigan); CHR, 66 (1980), 260–61 (review of DeVito book). 117. See, for example, Robert Reinders, “T. Wharton Collens: Catholic and Christian Socialist,” CHR, 52 (1966), 212–33; David O’Brien, “American Catholics and Organized Labor in the 1930s,” CHR, 52 (1966), 322–49; and Thomas E. Blantz, “Francis J. Haas: Priest and Government Servant,” 57 (1972), 571–92. 118. See Thomas C. Cornell and James H. Forest, eds., A Penny a Copy: Readings from the Catholic Worker, reviewed in CHR, 56 (1970), 198–99; Miller’s A Harsh and Dreadful Love: Dorothy Day and the Catholic Worker Movement, reviewed in CHR, 62 (1976), 682–83; see also Aaron Abell’s posthumously published volume of documents, American Catholic Thought on Social Questions, reviewed in CHR, 56 (1970), 189–91. 188 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM “Catholicism and Woman Suffrage in Massachusetts” and D. Owen Carrigan’s “Martha Moore Avery: Crusader for Social Justice.”119 The most ambitious of the half-dozen or so studies relating to women’s religious communities reviewed in this era was Mary Ewens’s The Role of the Nun in Nineteenth-Century America, which traces in broad strokes the problems they all faced in adjusting to American circumstances.120 Mary Gabriela Guidry’s The Southern Negro Nun: An Autobiography is of interest as an early venture into hitherto unexplored territory. The same might be said of a popularized biography of Father Augustine Tolton, and an informal history of black Catholics in Richmond, Virginia.121 The most substantive work on black Catholicism to appear in the CHR during these years was David (later, Thomas) Spalding’s article “The Negro Congresses, 1889–1894.”122 Though slow to enter the rapidly growing field of black history, Catholic scholars were active participants in the blossoming of immigrant/ethnic history that took place in the 1970s. One of the most important works exploring the interaction between religion and ethnicity was Jay P. Dolan’s The Immigrant Church: New York’s Irish and German Catholics, 1815–1865 (1975).123 A few other scholars addressed the subject in a comparative or broadly inclusive way.124 However, most of the books focused on only one ethnic group and without necessarily concentrating exclusively on religion—for example, Earl Niehaus’s book on the Irish in New Orleans or James P. Walsh’s edited volume on the same group in San Francisco. Noteworthy as a pioneering 119. CHR, 53 (1967), 43–57, for the Kenneally article; CHR, 54 (1968), 17–36, for the Carrigan article. 120. Reviewed in CHR, 66 (1980), 113–14. 121. All these works were reviewed in the Brief Notices section. For Guidry’s book, see CHR, 62 (1976), 522–23; for Sr. Caroline Hemesath’s From Slave to Priest: A Biography of the Rev. Augustine Tolton (1854–1897), First Afro-American Priest of the United States (Chicago, 1973), see CHR, 62 (1976), 524; for Nessa Theresa Baskerville Johnson’s A Special Pilgrimage: A History of Black Catholics in Richmond (Richmond, 1978), see CHR, 67 (1981), 684–85. 122. CHR, 55 (1969), 337–57. See also the review of Maria Genoina Caravaglios, The American Church and the Negro Problem in the XVIII–XIX Centuries (Rome, 1974), CHR, 61 (1975), 440–41. 123. Reviewed in CHR, 62 (1976), 484–85. 124. See Victor R. Greene, For God and Country: The Rise of Polish and Lithuanian Ethnic Consciousness in America, 1860–1910 (Madison, 1975), reviewed in CHR, 63 (1977), 658–59; Richard M. Linkh, American Catholicism and European Immigrants (1900–1924) (Staten Island, NY, 1975), reviewed in CHR, 63 (1977), 660–62; Randall M. Miller and Thomas D. Marzik, eds., Immigrants and Religion in Urban America (Philadelphia, 1977), reviewed in CHR, 65 (1979), 145–47. PHILIP GLEASON 189 study of a relatively neglected group was Silvano Tomasi’s Piety and Power, a study of Italian parishes in the New York City area.125 Two CHR articles dealt with ethnicity as a factor in intra-Catholic conflicts, a third told the story of the first Ruthenian bishop in the United States, and a rare article on Canada reported on a failed Catholic colonization project.126 Only one CHR article focused directly on nativist anti-Catholicism, but several books on that topic were reviewed in the 1960s and ’70s, and still others touched upon it while treating education or intergroup relations more broadly.127 The great battle over parochial school funding in the 1840s received attention in an article by Joseph J. McCadden and definitive treatment in Vincent P. Lannie’s monograph.128 Of particular interest among other works in this field were Lloyd P. Jorgenson’s article on the Oregon school law of the 1920s; James W. Sanders’s history of Catholic education in Chicago over more than a century, and Howard Weisz’s comparative study of attitudes toward education on the part of Irish Americans and Italian Americans.129 125. For reviews, see CHR, 54 (1968), 541–42 (Niehaus); CHR, 65 (1979), 137–38 (Walsh); CHR, 63 (1977), 45–46. (Tomasi). Philip Gleason, The Conservative Reformers (Notre Dame, 1968), reviewed in CHR, 58 (1972), 132–35, traced German-American Catholics’ interest in the “social question.” 126. Henry B. Leonard, “Ethnic Conflict and Episcopal Power: The Diocese of Cleveland, 1847–1870,” CHR, 62 (1976), 388–407; Philip T. Silvia Jr., “The ‘Flint Affair’: FrenchCanadian Struggle for ‘Survivance,’” CHR, 65 (1979), 414–35; Bohdan Procko, “Soter Ortynsky: First Ruthenian Bishop in the United States, 1907–1916,” CHR, 58 (1973), 513– 33; Gerald J. Stortz, “Archbishop Lynch and New Ireland: An Unfulfilled Dream for Canada’s Northwest,” CHR, 68 (1982), 612–24. 127. See Edward Cuddy, “The Irish Question and the Revival of Anti-Catholicism in the 1920s,” CHR, 67 (1981), 236–55; Donald L. Kinzer, An Episode in Anti-Catholicism: The American Protective Association (Seattle, 1964), reviewed in CHR, 50 (1965), 620–22; Charles C. Alexander, The Ku Klux Klan in the Southwest (Lexington, KY, 1965), reviewed in CHR, 53 (1967), 500–01; Michael Feldberg, The Philadelphia Riots of 1844: A Study of Ethnic Conflict (Westport, CT, 1975), reviewed in CHR, 63 (1977), 651–52; Robert F. Hueston, The Catholic Press and Nativism, 1840–1860 (New York, 1972), reviewed in CHR, 65 (1979), 129–30; Jean H. Baker, Ambivalent Americans: The Know-Nothing Party in Maryland (Baltimore, 1977), reviewed in CHR, 65 (1979), 136–37; and Ronald H. Bayor, Neighbors in Conflict: The Irish, Germans, Jews and Italians of New York City, 1919–1941 (Baltimore, 1978), reviewed in CHR, 66 (1980), 268–69. 128. Joseph J. McCadden, “Bishop Hughes versus the Public School Society of New York,” CHR, 50 (1964), 188–207; Vincent P. Lannie, Public Money and Parochial Education: Bishop Hughes, Governor Seward, and the New York School Controversy (Cleveland, 1968), reviewed in CHR, 56 (1970), 181–82. 129. Lloyd P. Jorgenson, “The Oregon School Law of 1922: Passage and Sequel,” CHR, 54 (1968), 455–66; James W. Sanders, The Education of an Urban Minority: Catholics 190 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM Several articles and reviews examined Catholics’ involvement in public affairs. The most notable of these was Vincent P. DeSantis’s 1964 presidential address “American Catholics and McCarthyism.” His paper established that, though Catholics were divided in their views of McCarthy and his methods, the preponderance of published opinion was pro-McCarthy.130 Illustrative of twenty or so additional items that fall under this heading are two articles on the reaction of Catholic ethnic groups to America’s entry into World War I, J. David Valaik’s article on American Catholic reactions to the Spanish Civil War, and reviews of such works as Charles J. Tull’s Father Coughlin and the New Deal as well as two books by George Q. Flynn on American Catholics’ political activities in the 1930s.131 It is impossible to mention all the worthwhile articles on other topics that appeared in the CHR in these years, but several deserve special notice. The first, Henry Warner Bowden’s “John Gilmary Shea: A Study of Method and Goals in Historiography,” gave historians of American Catholicism a deeper understanding of the origins of their discipline. Patrick W. Carey’s “The Laity’s Understanding of the Trustee System, 1785– 1855,” impressive in itself, also gave evidence that the perennial issue of “lay trusteeism” had, at long last, found its historian. Elizabeth McKeown’s “The National Bishops’ Conference: An Analysis of Its Origins” cast the first light on an institutional innovation central to the development of the Catholic Church in the United States in the twentieth century.132 Notein Chicago, 1933–1965 (New York, 1977), reviewed in CHR, 65 (1979), 130–31; Howard R. Weisz, Irish-American and Italian-American Educational Views and Activities, 1870–1900 (New York, 1976), reviewed in CHR, 65 (1979), 143–45. See also Harold A. Buetow, Of Singular Benefit: The Story of Catholic Education in the United States (New York, 1970), reviewed in CHR, 58 (1972), 125–27. 130. CHR, 51 (1965), 1–30. Donald F. Crosby, God, Church and Flag: Senator Joseph R. McCarthy and the Catholic Church, 1950–1957 (Chapel Hill, 1978), reviewed in CHR, 66 (1980), 272–73, generally confirmed DeSantis’s findings. What helped to make the article notable was that, in his closing remarks, the episcopal host at the presidential luncheon where the address was originally given took public issue with several of the points DeSantis had made. See the report of the ACHA convention, CHR, 51 (1965), 45–46. 131. Dean R. Esslinger, “American German and Irish Attitudes toward Neutrality, 1914–1917,” CHR, 53 (1967), 194–216; Edward Cuddy, “Pro-Germanism and American Catholicism, 1914–1917,” CHR, 54 (1968), 427–54; J. David Valaik, “American Catholic Dissenters and the Spanish Civil War,” CHR, 53 (1968), 537–55; Tull’s book reviewed in CHR, 51 (1965), 413–14; Flynn’s American Catholics and the Roosevelt Presidency, 1932–1936 (Lexington, KY, 1968), reviewed in CHR, 58 (1972), 135–36; Flynn’s Roosevelt and Romanism: Catholics and American Diplomacy, 1937–1945 (Westport, CT, 1976), reviewed in CHR, 65 (1979), 279–81. 132. For Bowden, see CHR, 54 (1968), 235–60; for Carey, CHR, 64 (1978), 357–76; for McKeown, CHR, 66 (1980), 265–83. See also Carey’s later book, People, Priests, and PHILIP GLEASON 191 worthy among books reviewed in these years are: Donald Pelotte’s John Courtney Murray, which made accessible to nonspecialists the ideas and activities of America’s leading Catholic theologian; Jay Dolan’s study of parish missions titled Catholic Revivalism, which gave evidence of awakening interest among historians in the devotional and spiritual dimensions of American Catholic life; and William M. Halsey’s The Survival of American Innocence, which opened new vistas on American Catholic culture in the first half of the twentieth century.133 Among the many individual personalities covered in articles and book reviews during the first half of Trisco’s editorship, space permits mention only of those devoted to John Carroll.134 He was the subject of two articles,135 and the appearance of a scholarly edition of his writings constituted the most significant documentary publication in the literature of American Catholic history. Efforts to collect Carroll’s papers went back to the days of John Gilmary Shea, and in 1951 the ACHA set up a committee to bring the project to completion. All scholars interested in the field recognized the immense value of the three-volume set of The John Carroll Papers, which editor Thomas O’Brien Hanley finally pushed to publication in the bicentennial year of 1976. Yet imperfections in the finished product attracted further efforts to correct errors and make available supplementary items that culminated a quarter century later in a book containing a number of documents not found by the original editor.136 Most notable Prelates: Ecclesiastical Democracy and Tensions of Trusteeism (Notre Dame, 1987), reviewed in CHR, 74 (1988), 661–62. 133. Pelotte, reviewed in CHR, 64 (1978), 61–62; Dolan, reviewed in CHR, 66 (1980), 124–25; Halsey, reviewed in CHR, 67 (1981), 640–43. Pelotte’s book shows, incidentally, that Murray was in correspondence with John Tracy Ellis, and that Murray’s thinking was quite possibly influenced by his acquaintance with the historical literature on “Americanism.” 134. During these years the CHR reviewed books dealing with four cardinals, twelve bishops, eleven priests, three sisters, and three laypeople. 135. Joseph G. Daly, “Archbishop John Carroll and the Virgin Islands,” CHR, 53 (1967), 305–27; Annabelle M. Melville, “John Carroll and Louisiana, 1803–1815,” CHR, 64 (1978), 398–440. Professor Melville later devoted her ACHA presidential address to “John Carroll of Baltimore: A Bicentennial Retrospect,” CHR, 76 (1990), 1–17. 136. On publication, The John Carroll Papers received a favorable review essay by Joseph Agonito in CHR, 63 (1977), 583–92. The next year, John J. Tierney, the archivist of the Archdiocese of Baltimore, pointed out numerous errors in a Miscellany item titled “Another View of the John Carroll Papers,” CHR, 64 (1978), 660–70; then came Thomas W. Spalding, “John Carroll: Corrigenda and Addenda,” CHR, 71 (1985), 505–18; and, in 2000, Spalding’s John Carroll Recovered: Abstracts of Letters and Other Documents Not Found in the John Carroll Papers (Baltimore, 2002), reviewed in CHR, 88 (2002), 153–54. 192 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM among the other documentary sources and aids to research made available in these years were Finbar Kenneally’s calendar of U.S. documents in the Propoganda Fide archives, of which seven volumes were reviewed between 1969 and 1981, and a scholarly edition of the correspondence of Orestes Brownson and Isaac T. Hecker.137 A small number of general histories of American Catholicism appeared in the 1960s and ’70s. Ellis’s American Catholicism has already been mentioned. His Catholics in Colonial America (1965) was comprehensive and balanced for the period covered, but the multivolume work it seemed to presage was never carried forward. Thomas T. McAvoy’s History of the Catholic Church in the United States (1969), which appeared posthumously, covered the whole story, but left something to be desired in terms of readability. Two popularizations by nonhistorians—Andrew M. Greeley’s The Catholic Experience: An Interpretation of the History of American Catholicism (1967) and Robert Leckie’s American and Catholic (1970)— exhibited the limitations of the genre and received predictably critical reviews in the CHR, although the former was acknowledged to be provocative, and the latter highly readable.138 Segment 6 : 1 9 8 3 to 2 0 0 5 In the second half of Trisco’s editorship, which extended from 1983 through 2005, the CHR published a total of 345 articles and almost 4500 book reviews. Some 122 (35 percent) of the articles and 522 (12 percent) of the reviews dealt with the history of American Catholicism.139 Included among the reviews was a rich harvest of general surveys written by professional historians. James Hennesey led the way with American Catholics (1981), a comprehensive, readable, and richly documented volume. Then came Jay P. Dolan’s influential social history titled The American Catholic Experience (1985) and David O’Brien’s Public Catholicism (1989), an interpretive general history that was part of a six-volume series 137. The first volume of the Kenneally calendar was reviewed in CHR, 55 (1969), 229– 30; the seventh in CHR, 67 (1981), 490–92. Joseph F. Gower and Richard M. Liliaert, eds., The Brownson-Hecker Correspondence (Notre Dame, 1979), reviewed in CHR, 67 (1981), 502–4. 138. For reviews, see CHR, 53 (1967), 255–56 (Ellis); CHR, 59 (1973), 140–42 (McAvoy); CHR, 56 (1970), 151–57 (Greeley); CHR, 59 (1973), 143–44 (Leckie). Cogley, Catholic America (New York, 1973), seems not to have been reviewed by the CHR. 139. There were, in addition, eighty-seven books that received Brief Notices, a third of which dealt with American Catholicism. PHILIP GLEASON 193 published to mark the bicentennial of the establishment of the American hierarchy in 1789.140 Two other general surveys followed in the 1990s: Patrick W. Carey’s The Roman Catholics (1993), a volume in the Denominations in America series, and Charles R. Morris’s American Catholic (1997), a first-rate work by a nonhistorian.141 In early years of the new century, two additional works appeared—Jay Dolan’s In Search of an American Catholicism (2002) and John T. McGreevy’s Catholicism and American Freedom (2003)—which, though not full-scale surveys, offered important perspectives on the whole of American Catholic history.142 This near-embarrassment of general histories—along with the publication in 1997 of a comprehensive and authoritative encyclopedia of American Catholic history143—made clear that the subject had come fully of age as a focus of scholarly interest. Although the contents of the CHR reflected some changes of emphasis, no single theme dominated its coverage of the field. However, the bicentennial series mentioned above suggests the leading topics of interest among historians of American Catholicism.144 In addition to O’Brien’s Public Catholicism, it included two volumes devoted to what might be called traditional subjects—episcopal lead- 140. For reviews of these books, see CHR, 70 (1984), 661–63. (Hennesey); CHR, 74 (1988), 103–7 (Dolan); CHR, 77 (1991), 335–36 (O’Brien). 141. For reviews, see CHR, 82 (1996), 285 (Carey); CHR, 84 (1998), 579–81 (Morris). 142. For reviews, see CHR, 89 (2003), 807–12 (Dolan); and CHR, 90 (2004), 357–60 (McGreevy). Besides the works already mentioned, three short, classroom-oriented histories of American Catholicism, written by Timothy Walch, Clyde Crews, and James T. Fisher, were published during these years. So also was a volume of essays I wrote on selected topics in American Catholic history. For reviews, see CHR, 77 (1991), 328–29 (Walch); CHR, 83 (1997), 161–62 (Crews); and CHR, 74 (1988), 684–86 (Gleason). Fisher’s Community of Immigrants: A History of Catholics in America (Oxford, 2002) does not seem to have been reviewed in the CHR, which did, however, publish a review of Chester Gillis’s Roman Catholicism in America (New York, 1999) in CHR, 86 (2000), 708–09, although the author was not a historian and the book not really a history, but rather a survey of the current scene set within a sketchy historical background. 143. Michael Glazier and Thomas J. Shelley, eds., The Encyclopedia of American Catholic History (Collegeville, MN, 1997), reviewed in CHR, 87 (2001), 763–64. 144. Christopher J. Kauffman was the organizer and general editor of the series, which was authorized by the National Conference of Catholic Bishops, supported by funding from the Knights of Columbus, and designated as the Bicentennial History of the Catholic Church in America. Likewise useful in identifying the emergence of new emphases in American Catholic historiography is a nine-volume series titled American Catholic Identities: A Documentary History (Maryknoll, NY, 1999–2004), also organized and edited by Kauffman. For details, see Thomas J. Shelley’s review essay of this series in U.S. Catholic Historian, 24, no. 2 (2006), 27–40. 194 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM ership and Catholic immigrants145—and three that constituted pioneering efforts to synthesize newer emphases, namely, the role of women in the history of the American Church, Catholic intellectual life in the United States, and the historical development of American Catholic spirituality.146 Before taking up those topics, a word about the CHR’s marking of anniversary occasions. In her 1989 ACHA presidential address, Annabelle M. Melville offered bicentennial reflections on the founding bishop of the American hierarchy, and the CHR also took note of the centennial of the founding of The Catholic University of America, which opened its doors in 1889.147 Another anniversary occurring in this period was the fifth centenary of Columbus’s discovery of America. On that occasion, Gerald P. Fogarty devoted his ACHA presidential address to the contrast between the celebration of Columbus’s role in 1892 and the critique of the whole idea of “discovery” in 1992.148 The CHR likewise did full justice to the important role of the episcopacy in American Catholic life. In addition to Melville’s article on John Carroll, the journal featured articles on a number of other bishops.149 And though one might view this as evidence of Catholic historians’ oftlamented preoccupation with the hierarchy, it could not be said that the authors of these essays were uncritical glorifiers of bishops. On the contrary, Cardinal William O’Connell of Boston, who was treated in three 145. Gerald P. Fogarty, ed., Patterns of Episcopal Leadership (New York, 1989), reviewed in CHR, 76 (1990), 147–49; Delores Liptak, Immigrants and Their Church (New York, 1989), reviewed in CHR, 76 (1990), 409–10. For another attempt at a synthesis, see James S. Olson, Catholic Immigrants in America (Chicago, 1987), reviewed in CHR, 74 (1988), 107–08. 146. Karen Kennelly, ed., American Catholic Women: A Historical Exploration (New York, 1989), reviewed in CHR, 76 (1990), 149–50; Margaret Mary Reher, Catholic Intellectual Life in America (New York, 1989), reviewed in CHR, 76 (1990), 407–9; Joseph P. Chinnici, Living Stones: The History and Structure of Catholic Spiritual Life in the United States (New York, 1988), reviewed in CHR, 78 (1992), 471–74. 147. Annabelle M. Melville, “John Carroll of Baltimore: A Bicentennial Retrospect,” CHR, 76 (1990), 1–17. All six of the articles composing the CHR’s October 1989 issue were devoted to the university’s centennial. Of particular interest here is Robert Trisco’s contribution, “The Church’s History in the University’s History,” CHR, 75 (1989), 658–76. 148. Gerald P. Fogarty, “1892 and 1992: From Celebration of Discovery to Encounter of Cultures,” CHR, 79 (1993), 621–47. On Columbus, see also Leonard I. Sweet, “Christopher Columbus and the Millennial Vision of the New World,” CHR, 72 (1986), 369–82, and Delno C. West, “Christopher Columbus, Lost Biblical Sites, and the Last Crusade,” CHR, 78 (1992), 519–41. 149. Of special interest is Gerald P. Fogarty’s sweeping survey, The Vatican and the American Hierarchy from 1870 to 1965 (Stuttgart, 1982), reviewed in CHR, 71 (1985), 126–29. PHILIP GLEASON 195 essays, was the subject of an unflattering exposé by Douglas Slawson, and James O’Toole questioned his reputation as a “consolidating” bishop.150 Clyde F. Crews portrayed Bishop William G. McCloskey of Louisville as an exemplar of episcopal “authoritarianism”; C. Walker Gollar detailed the alleged dalliance of John Lancaster Spalding with Mary Gwendolin Caldwell, and John Offner analyzed the failure of John Ireland’s effort to prevent the outbreak of the Spanish-American War. Other historians—for example, Leonard Riforgiato and David O’Brien—wrote more positively of Bishops John Timon of Buffalo and John J. Wright of Worcester, respectively, and Ellis passed a severely critical judgment on John Cooney’s “relentlessly negative” biography of Cardinal Francis J. Spellman.151 The other topic described above as “traditional” continued to benefit from the upsurge of historical interest in immigration and ethnicity that began around 1970. The effect was most noticeable in respect to work on Slavic and Italian Catholics, groups that had previously received little attention from historians of American Catholicism. Besides her book on Catholic immigrants in the bicentennial series, Dolores Liptak explored the immigrant situation in Connecticut in a CHR article and a subsequently published monograph; Charles Shanabruch traced the adjustment of Catholic immigrants in Chicago from 1833 to 1924.152 Grace Donovan concentrated on New England, investigating the role of immigrant nuns working mainly among French Canadians.153 William Galush and Earl 150. Douglas J. Slawson, “The Boston Tragedy and Comedy: The Near-Repudiation of Cardinal O’Connell,” CHR, 77 (1991), 616–43; James M. O’Toole, “The Role of Bishops in American Catholic History: Myth and Reality in the Case of Cardinal William O’Connell,” CHR, 77 (1991), 595–615. O’Toole’s “‘That Fabulous Churchman’: Toward a Biography of Cardinal O’Connell,” CHR, 70 (1984), 28–44, was a preview of O’Toole’s full-scale biography of O’Connell, which appeared in 1992. 151. Clyde F. Crews, “American Catholic Authoritarianism: The Episcopacy of William George McCloskey, 1868–1909,” CHR, 70 (1984), 560–80; C. Walker Gollar, “The Double Doctrine of the Caldwell Sisters,” CHR, 81 (1995), 211–25; John Offner, “Washington Mission: Archbishop Ireland on the Eve of the Spanish-American War,” CHR, 73 (1987), 562–75; Leonard R. Riforgiato, “Bishop Timon, Buffalo, and the Civil War,” CHR, 73 (1987), 62–80; David J. O’Brien, “When It All Came Together: Bishop John J. Wright and the Diocese of Worcester, 1950–1959,” CHR, 85 (1999), 75–94. For Ellis’s review of Cooney, see CHR, 72 (1986), 676–81. 152. Dolores Ann Liptak, “The National Parish: Concept and Consequences for the Diocese of Hartford, 1890–1910,” CHR, 71 (1985), 52–64; Liptak, European Immigrants and the Catholic Church in Connecticut, 1870–1920 (New York, 1987), reviewed in CHR, 74 (1988), 676–77; Charles Shanabruch, Chicago’s Catholics: The Evolution of an American Identity (Notre Dame, 1981), reviewed in CHR, 69 (1983), 121–23. 153. Grace Donovan, “Immigrant Nuns: Their Participation in the Process of Americanization in Massachusetts and Rhode Island, 1880–1920,” CHR, 77 (1991), 194–208. 196 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM Boyea published articles on Polish American Catholics; Mary Elizabeth Brown, Thomas J. Shelley, and Peter R. D’Agostino added to the literature on Italian Catholics in the United States.154 Historical work on the experience of Hispanic American Catholics was just beginning to appear in this period.155 Long-established groups were not, however, entirely overlooked. Lawrence J. McCaffrey addressed the pervasive influence of the Irish on American Catholicism in his ACHA presidential address. The Irish also figured prominently in Dale Light’s book on ethnic-religious turmoil in antebellum Philadelphia; other locales of ethnic conflict and trusteeism were explored in articles by Henry B. Leonard, Charles Edwards O’Neill, Michael Doorley, and Andrew P. Yox.156 Martin Marty’s ACHA presidential address compared the “ghetto” situation of Catholics with that of other American religious groups.157 154. William Galush, “Both Polish and Catholic: Immigrant Clergy in the American Church,” CHR, 70 (1984), 407–27; Earl Boyea, “Father Kolasinski and the Church in Detroit,” CHR, 71 (1988), 420–39; Mary Elizabeth Brown, “The Making of Italian-Americans: Jesuit Work on the Lower East Side, New York, 1890s–1950s,” CHR, 73 (1987), 195–210; Brown, Churches, Communities and Children: Italian Immigrants in the Archdiocese of New York, 1880–1945 (Staten Island, NY, 1995), reviewed in CHR, 83 (1997), 520–21; Brown, The Scalabrinians in North America (1887–1934) (New York, 1996), reviewed in CHR, 84 (1998), 153–54; Thomas J. Shelley, “Catholic Greenwich Village: Ethnic Geography and Religious Identity,” CHR, 88 (2002), 60–84; Peter R. D’Agostino, “Italian Ethnicity and Religious Priests in the American Church: The Servites, 1870–1940,” CHR, 80 (1994), 714–40. 155. See, for example, Moisés Sandoval, On the Move: A History of the Hispanic Church in the United States (Maryknoll, NY, 1990), reviewed in CHR, 77 (1991), 329–30; Jay P. Dolan and Gilberto M. Hinojosa, eds., Mexican Americans and the Catholic Church (Notre Dame, 1994), reviewed in CHR, 83 (1997), 141–43; Jay P. Dolan and Jaime Vidal, eds., Puerto Rican and Cuban Catholics in the United States (Notre Dame, 1994), reviewed in CHR, 82 (1996), 320–21; Ana Maria Diaz-Stevens, Oxcart Catholicism on Fifth Avenue: The Impact of the Puerto Rican Migration upon the Archdiocese of New York (Notre Dame, 1993), reviewed in CHR, 81 (1995), 119–21; Timothy M. Matovina, Tejano Religion and Ethnicity: San Antonio, 1821–1860 (Austin, 1995), reviewed in CHR, 85 (1999), 110–11. 156. Lawrence J. McCaffrey, “Irish Textures in American Catholicism,” CHR, 78 (1992), 1–18; Dale B. Light, Rome and the New Republic (Notre Dame, 1996), reviewed in CHR, 84 (1998), 147–49; Henry B. Leonard, “Ethnic Tensions, Episcopal Leadership, and the Emergence of the Twentieth-Century American Catholic Church: The Cleveland Experience,” CHR, 71 (1985), 394–412; Charles Edwards O’Neill, “‘A Quarter Marked by Sundry Peculiarities’: New Orleans, Lay Trustees, and Père Antoine,” CHR, 76 (1990), 235–77; Michael Doorley, “Irish Catholics and French Creoles: Ethnic Struggles within the Catholic Church in New Orleans, 1835–1920,” CHR, 87 (2001), 34–54; Andrew P. Yox, “The Parochial Context of Trusteeism: Buffalo’s St. Louis Church, 1828–1855,” CHR, 76 (1990), 712–33. 157. Martin E. Marty, “The Catholic Ghetto and All the Other Ghettos,” CHR, 68 (1982), 185–205. PHILIP GLEASON 197 The historical literature on African American Catholicism was greatly enriched during these years. In 1990, Cyprian Davis supplied a muchneeded general survey of the subject. It was supplemented that same year by Stephen J. Ochs’s account of the struggle to overcome the racist exclusion of African Americans from ordination to the priesthood. James O’Toole’s Passing for White traced the fortunes of the mixed-race Healy family, and Mary Bernard Deggs described the experience of a community of African American sisters in nineteenth-century New Orleans. Marilyn Wenzke Nickels’s monograph on the Federated Colored Catholics analyzed differing approaches to racial justice among American Catholics. David W. Southern’s book on Father John LaFarge, S.J., critiqued LaFarge’s approach to race relations. John T. McGreevy’s Parish Boundaries provided a comprehensive account of “the Catholic encounter with race” in the urban north, and Dorothy Ann Blatnica traced the experience of black Catholics in Cleveland.158 In addition to noting these book-length treatments, the CHR published four articles dealing with more particularized aspects of black Catholic history.159 A half-dozen articles on slavery and the Civil War also impinged in various ways on the issue of race and on black history more generally. Most notably, C. Walker Gollar reported on the situation of Catholic slaves and slaveholders in antebellum Kentucky, and Patrick W. Carey analyzed Orestes Brownson’s contention that Justice Roger B. Taney’s ruling in the Dred Scott case implied “political 158. Cyprian Davis, The History of Black Catholics in the United States (New York, 1990), reviewed in CHR, 77 (1991), 712–15; Stephen J. Ochs, Desegregating the Altar: The Josephites and the Struggle for Black Priests (Baton Rouge, 1990), reviewed in CHR, 76 (1990), 890–92; James O’Toole, Passing for White: Race, Religion, and the Healy Family, 1820–1920 (Amherst, MA, 2002), reviewed in CHR, 90 (2004), 820–22; Mary Bernard Deggs, No Cross, No Crown: Black Nuns in Nineteenth-Century New Orleans (Bloomington, IN, 2001), reviewed in CHR, 89 (2003), 121–23; Marilyn W. Nickels, Black Catholic Protest and the Federated Colored Catholics, 1917–1933: Three Perspectives on Racial Justice (New York, 1988), reviewed in CHR, 76 (1990), 415–18; David W. Southern, John LaFarge and the Limits of Catholic Interracialism, 1911–1963 (Baton Rouge, 1996), reviewed in CHR, 83 (1997), 525–26; John T. McGreevy, Parish Boundaries (Chicago, 1996), reviewed in CHR, 84 (1998), 157–59; Dorothy Ann Blatnica, At the Altar of Their God: African American Catholics in Cleveland, 1922–1961 (New York, 1995), reviewed in CHR, 82 (1996), 330–32. Diane Batts Morrow’s history of the Oblate Sisters of Providence (Chapel Hill, 2002), seems not to have been reviewed in the CHR. 159. Joseph H. Lackner, “Dan A. Rudd, Editor of the American Catholic Tribune, from Bardstown to Cincinnati,” CHR, 80 (1994), 258–81; William C. Leonard, “A Parish for the Black Catholics of Boston,” CHR, 83 (1997), 44–68; Richard Gribble, “A Conservative Voice for Black Catholics: The Case of James Martin Gillis, CSP,” CHR, 85 (1999), 420– 34; R. Bentley Anderson, “Black, White, and Catholic: Southern Jesuits Confront the Race Question, 1952,” CHR, 91 (2005), 484–505. 198 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM atheism”—that is, the complete exclusion of religious consideration from political and legal decision making.160 In addition to Karen M. Kennelly’s American Catholic Women in the bicentennial series, James J. Kenneally published his pioneering History of American Catholic Women (1990) and a more specialized article on the subject in the CHR.161 Most work in that field continued to focus on women religious rather than laywomen, but the influence of feminist and gender studies approaches was discernible in both areas.162 Likewise observable were stark differences of opinion about the direction taken by women’s religious communities as they reacted to the reorientation of Catholic thought and practice brought on by the Second Vatican Council and the social and cultural upheaval of the 1960s. Angelyn Dries explored an early instance of the strains that developed in her article “Living in Ambiguity: A Paradigm Shift Experienced by the Sister Formation Movement.”163 Marjorie Noterman Beane’s From Framework to Freedom (1993) gave a positive account of that movement’s later development, but the CHR’s reviewer found fault with the author’s failure “to analyze its relationship to the vast numerical decline in religious orders involved which followed its implementation.”164 Two other books reviewed in the 1990s reflect dia160. C. Walker Gollar, “Catholic Slaves and Slaveholders in Kentucky,” CHR, 84 (1998), 42–62; Patrick W. Carey, “Political Atheism: Dred Scott, Roger Brooke Taney, and Orestes A. Brownson,” CHR, 88 (2002), 207–29. See also: Frank L. Klement, “Catholics as Copperheads in the Civil War,” CHR, 80 (1994), 36–57; James Hitchcock, “Race, Religion and Rebellion: Hilary Tucker and the Civil War,” CHR, 80 (1994), 497–517; David C. R. Heisser, “Bishop Lynch’s Civil War Pamphlet on Slavery,” CHR, 84 (1998), 681–96; Preston Jones, “Civil War, Culture War: French Quebec and the American War between the States,” CHR, 87 (2001), 55–70; and Stafford Poole and Douglas J. Slawson, Church and Slave in Perry County, Missouri, 1818–1865 (Lewiston, NY, 1986), reviewed in CHR, 77 (1991), 134–35. 161. Karen Kennelly reviewed Kenneally’s book in CHR, 77 (1991), 529–30; James J. Kenneally, “Women Divided: The Catholic Struggle for an Equal Rights Amendment, 1923–1945,” CHR, 75 (1989), 249–63. 162. See, for example, Susan L. Poulson and Loretta P. Higgins, “Gender, Coeducation, and the Transformation of Catholic Identity in Catholic Higher Education,” CHR, 89 (2003), 489–510; and Kathleen A. Brosnan, “Public Presence, Public Silence: Nuns, Bishops, and the Gendered Space of Early Chicago,” CHR, 90 (2004), 473–96. CHR, 85 (1999), 121– 22, contains a review of Building Sisterhood: A Feminist History of the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary (Syracuse, NY, 1997), a collection of essays written by members of that community. See also Carol K. Coburn and Martha Smith, Spirited Lives: How Nuns Shaped Catholic Culture and American Life (Chapel Hill, 1999), reviewed in CHR, 86 (2000), 355–56. 163. CHR, 79 (1993), 478–87. 164. CHR, 81 (1995), 121–23. The reviewer, Joan Bland, was the editor of the Sister Formation Bulletin from 1964 to 1969. PHILIP GLEASON 199 metrically opposed evaluations of what happened in women’s religious communities in the postconciliar years.165 Controversial works were, however, less important historiographically than the movement that developed in the 1980s to encourage women’s religious communities to systematize their record keeping and upgrade the writing of their histories. A major landmark in this campaign was the publication of Evangeline Thomas’s Women Religious History Sources: A Guide to Repositories in the United States, which made the resources of 500 archives more accessible to researchers. It was hailed by the CHR’s reviewer as “a high point in the efforts of American women religious to know their own place in history and to share it with others.” How far those efforts had already advanced is suggested by the fact that reviews of four scholarly books on religious orders of women followed immediately after the review of Thomas’s “monumental work” in the January 1985 issue of the CHR.166 Joseph P. Chinnici’s Living Stones: The History and Structure of Catholic Spiritual Life in the United States was the real novelty among the six volumes that constituted the bicentennial series. The CHR’s reviewer described it as “the first attempt to write a religious history of American Catholicism,” which presumably meant a history of the interior religious experience of Catholics.167 There is an inevitably elusive quality in discussions of this sort, but for our purposes the history of spirituality may be thought of as the most elevated and abstract subfield of the social history of religion. That enlarged category was strongly influenced in the 1970s and ’80s by the emphasis among contemporary American historians on “race, class, and gender”; by new work being done in Europe on “popular religion”; and (among Catholic historians) by “people of God” ecclesiology and a corresponding aspiration to write the history of “the people in the pews.” Jay P. Dolan was the leading American Catholic proponent and practitioner of the social his165. Lora Ann Quiñonez and Mary Daniel Turner, The Transformation of American Catholic Sisters (Philadelphia, 1992), reviewed in CHR, 79 (1993), 375–77; Ann Carey, Sisters in Crisis: The Tragic Unravelling of Women’s Religious Communities (Huntington, IN, 1997), reviewed in CHR, 84 (1998), 597–98. 166. See CHR, 71 (1985), 129–30, for Barbara Misner’s review of Thomas, and CHR, 71 (1985), 130–34, for reviews of the books on the four communities of sisters. 167. See Thomas Wangler’s review in CHR, 78 (1992), 471–74. For a review of Chinnici’s earlier Devotion to the Holy Spirit in American Catholicism (New York, 1985), see CHR, 72 (1986), 514–15. Another volume relevant to devotionalism—Joseph P. Chinnici and Angelyn Dries, eds., Prayer and Practice in the American Catholic Community (Maryknoll, NY, 2000), a volume in the documentary series, American Catholic Identities—was, it seems, not reviewed in the CHR. 200 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM tory approach. It was the distinctive feature of his American Catholic Experience, and Dolan also organized two investigations of the parish—the central venue of Catholic worship and the basic unit of Catholics’ communal religious life.168 Leslie Woodcock Tentler likewise featured the parish— along with the relationships between clergy and laity, the place of women in the Church, and patterns of Catholic devotional life—in her Seasons of Grace, a much-admired history of the Archdiocese of Detroit.169 Scholarship on a wide range of extraparochial activities and practices can also be included under the general heading of Catholic devotionalism. Colleen McDannell investigated domestic religiosity in two important studies, and Robert A. Orsi published books on two quite different manifestations of Catholic spirituality.170 Other works reviewed in the CHR included two collections of texts: one the writings of Sisters of Charity foundress Elizabeth Seton, the other illustrating American Jesuit spirituality.171 Raymond J. Kupke’s book on preaching and piety in the age of John Carroll called into question Dolan’s contention that Catholic spirituality in that era differed significantly from the “devotional Catholicism” of nineteenth-century Catholic immigrants. Thomas A. Tweed’s Our Lady of the Exile analyzed a modern form of immigrant devotionalism among Cuban Catholics in Miami.172 Among CHR articles, Robert Trisco detailed American Catholic participation in three papally proclaimed “Jubilees” 168. See Jay P. Dolan, ed., The American Catholic Parish: A History from 1850 to the Present (New York, 1987), reviewed in CHR, 75 (1989), 326–28; and Jay P. Dolan et al., Transforming Parish Ministry: The Changing Roles of Catholic Clergy, Laity, and Women Religious (New York, 1989), reviewed in CHR, 77 (1991), 720–22. For treatment of Catholic spirituality in Dolan’s American Catholic Experience (Garden City, NY, 1985, see esp. chaps. 7 and 8. 169. See the review in CHR, 77 (1991), 336–37. See also Tentler, “A Model Rural Parish: Priests and People in the Michigan ‘Thumb,’ 1923–1928,” CHR, 78 (1992), 413–28. 170. Colleen McDannell, The Christian Home in Victorian America, 1840–1900 (Bloomington, IN, 1986), reviewed in CHR, 74 (1988), 124–25; Material Christianity: Religion and Popular Culture in America (New Haven, 1995), reviewed in CHR, 84 (1998), 149– 50. Robert A. Orsi’s much-acclaimed Madonna of 115th Street (New Haven, 1985) seems to have been overlooked, but CHR, 83 (1997), 526–28, carried an enthusiastic review of his Thank You, St. Jude (New Haven, 1996). 171. Ellin Kelly and Annabelle Melville, eds., Elizabeth Seton: Selected Writings (New York, 1987), reviewed in CHR, 74 (1988), 664–65; Robert Emmett Curran, ed., American Jesuit Spirituality: The Maryland Tradition, 1634–1900 (New York, 1988), reviewed in CHR, 75 (1989), 320. 172. Raymond J. Kupke, ed., American Catholic Preaching and Piety in the Time of John Carroll (Lanham, MD, 1991, reviewed in CHR, 79 (1993), 567–68; Thomas A. Tweed, Our Lady of the Exile: Diasporic Religion at a Cuban Catholic Shrine in Miami (New York, 1997), reviewed in CHR, 85 (1999), 130–31. PHILIP GLEASON 201 from the 1780s to the 1820s; Anne C. Rose examined the role of familial connections in some notable nineteenth-century conversions to Catholicism; Thomas Kselman, Steven Avella, and Robert Emmett Curran wrote on instances of miraculous visions and cures; and J. Manuel Espinosa researched the origin of the Penitente movement in New Mexico.173 There was also a strong spiritual dimension to the social action movements of twentieth-century American Catholicism. Joseph M. McShane emphasized the linkage in his study of the work of an early promoter of religious “retreats” for laypeople, and Jay P. Corrin pointed out that the liturgical reformer H. A. Reinhold stressed the “close interconnection of four apostolates: the social, liturgical, educational, and biblical.”174 Intense spirituality and radical social action were interwoven in the life and work of Dorothy Day and in the Catholic Worker movement that she, and the equally devout Peter Maurin, launched in 1933.175 Thomas Merton combined his monastic spirituality with commitment to what might be called intellectual activism in his writings on public affairs.176 And the drive for personal sanctity permeated the “Catholic Action” campaigns that blossomed in the 1930s and ’40s.177 Intellectual history—dealt with by Margaret Mary Reher in the sixth volume of the bicentennial series—was more richly represented in the 173. Robert Trisco, “The First Jubilees Celebrated in the United States,” CHR, 86 (2000), 85–94; Anne C. Rose, “Some Private Roads to Rome: The Role of Families in American Victorian Conversions to Catholicism,” CHR, 85 (1999), 35–57; Thomas Kselman and Steven Avella, “Marian Piety and the Cold War in the United States,” CHR, 72 (1986), 403– 24; Robert Emmett Curran, “‘The Finger of God is Here:’ The Advent of the Miraculous in the Nineteenth-Century American Catholic Community,” CHR, 73 (1987), 41–61; J. Manuel Espinosa, “The Origin of the Penitentes in New Mexico: Separating Fact from Fiction,” CHR, 79 (1993), 454–77. 174. Joseph M. McShane, “‘To Form an Elite Body of Laymen’: Terence J. Shealy, S.J., and the Laymen’s League, 1911–1922,” CHR, 78 (1992), 557–80; Jay P. Corrin, “H. A. Reinhold: Liturgical Pioneer and Anti-Fascist,” CHR, 82 (1996), 436–58, here 454. 175. See the successive reviews of Marc H. Ellis’s book on Peter Maurin and William D. Miller’s biography of Dorothy Day in CHR, 69 (1983), 284–88. In the latter, reviewer Anne Klejment noted that Day insisted on uniting “contemplation and social action.” 176. See Peter Kountz’s review essay “In Search of Thomas Merton,” CHR, 78 (1992), 615–20, and the review of William H. Shannon, ed., The Hidden Ground of Love: The Letters of Thomas Merton on Religious Experience and Social Concerns (New York, 1985), in CHR, 72 (1986), 683–84. 177. See, for example, Alden V. Brown, The Grail Movement and American Catholicism (Notre Dame, 1989), reviewed in CHR, 76 (1990), 902–3; Irene Zotti, A Time of Awakening: The Young Christian Worker Story in the United States, 1938–1970 (Chicago, 1991), reviewed in CHR, 78 (1992), 333–34. 202 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM CHR than was “spirituality” as such. But there was a close connection between the two topics, most notably, perhaps, in the case of Isaac Hecker, whose religious thought attracted much scholarly attention in these years. John Farina’s Hecker Studies was reviewed in the CHR’s January 1985 issue; three months later, William L. Portier’s article “Isaac Hecker and the First Vatican Council” appeared; Portier’s book with the same title was reviewed a year later, as was David O’Brien’s biography of Hecker in 1993. Hecker and his fellow convert Orestes Brownson also figure prominently in Patrick Carey’s important article on romanticism as an element in nineteenth-century American Catholic thought and feeling.178 The romantic/aesthetic dimension of Catholicism—its semi-exotic ritual, its clouds of incense, and its “storied windows, richly dight”— appealed powerfully to many American Protestants in the nineteenth century.179 Not even Ralph Waldo Emerson was entirely immune to it, as Glen M. Johnson points out in an article on Emerson’s relations with Isaac Hecker.180 Romantic medievalism also appealed to cultural conservatives like Henry Adams and Charles Eliot Norton, who admired not only the magnificent art and architecture inspired by Catholicism, but also the Church’s role as the source of moral and social unity.181 Patrick Allitt’s first book—Catholic Intellectuals and Conservative Politics in America, 1950–1985 (1993)182—was followed four years later by Catholic Converts: British and American Intellectuals Turn to Rome, in which Allitt made an impressive case for the thesis that, without the converts, the intellectual record of English-speaking Catholics would have been barren indeed. William L. Portier, who reviewed the latter book for the CHR, did 178. John Farina, ed., Hecker Studies: Essays on the Thought of Isaac Hecker (New York, 1983), reviewed in CHR, 71 (1985), 119–20; for Portier’s article, see CHR, 71 (1985), 206– 27; for the review of his book, see CHR, 72 (1986), 664–65; David J. O’Brien, Isaac Hecker: An American Catholic (New York, 1992), reviewed in CHR, 79 (1993), 571–73; Patrick W. Carey, “American Catholic Romanticism, 1830–1888,” CHR, 74 (1988), 590–606. 179. Jenny Franchot, Roads to Rome: The Antebellum Protestant Encounter with Catholicism (Berkeley, 1994), reviewed in CHR, 84 (1998), 150–52, is relevant in this connection, but the author’s “new historicist” literary critic’s approach limits its accessibility to historians. For a more straightforward treatment of the romantic appeal of Catholicism to the American Transcendentalists, see M. Helena Sanfilippo, “Personal Religious Expressions of Roman Catholicism: A Transcendental Critique,” CHR, 62 (1976), 366–87. 180. Glen M. Johnson, “Ralph Waldo Emerson on Isaac Hecker: A Manuscript with Commentary,” CHR, 79 (1973), 54–64. 181. Keith R. Burich, “Charles Eliot Norton, Henry Adams, and the Catholic Church as a Symbol of Order and Authority,” CHR, 75 (1989), 423–38. 182. Reviewed in CHR, 81 (1995), 124–25. PHILIP GLEASON 203 not really dispute that judgment, but he qualified it by noting that Allitt omitted from his survey the work of learned bishops like Francis P. Kenrick and other born-Catholic clerics who made contributions to specialized fields and in connection with movements like Americanism.183 And a good case could be made for calling George N. Shuster a Catholic “public intellectual” in the preconciliar years.184 Little new scholarship on “Americanism” itself appeared during this period. David Sweeney’s article on Herman Schell, Anthony Andreassi’s essay on Richard Burtsell, and Marvin R. O’Connell’s biography of Archbishop John Ireland did, however, enrich historians’ understanding of that movement.185 Reher, who discussed Americanism in her bicentennial volume, was among several scholars who saw it as positively linked to modernism, which continued to attract growing attention. R. Scott Appleby used a quotation from Archbishop Ireland—“Church and Age Unite!”—as the main title of his book on the “Modernist Impulse in American Catholicism”; Christopher J. Kauffman treated modernism at some length in his history of the Sulpician Fathers in the United States; and Gerald P. Fogarty analyzed a key episode that occurred at the Catholic University of America in his impressive history of Catholic biblical scholarship in the United States.186 Americanism and modernism were also touched upon in several institutional histories that deserve mention as contributions to the larger topic of Catholic intellectual history. Thus Kauffman’s study of the Sulpicians and Joseph M. White’s book on the nation’s diocesan seminaries gave 183. See Portier’s review in CHR, 85 (1999), 117–18. Thomas E. Woods Jr., The Church Confronts Modernity: Catholic Intellectuals and the Progressive Era (New York, 2004), reviewed in CHR, 91 (2005), 393–94, discusses three such priest-specialists: Thomas Shields, William Kerby, and Edward A. Pace. 184. Thomas E. Blantz, George N. Shuster: On the Side of Truth (Notre Dame, 1993), reviewed in CHR, 81 (1995), 117–19. 185. David F. Sweeney, “Herman Schell, 1850–1906: A German Dimension to the Americanist Controversy,” CHR, 76 (1990), 44–70; Anthony D. Andreassi, “‘The Cunning Leader of a Dangerous Clique?’ The Burtsell Affair and Archbishop Michael Augustine Corrigan,” CHR, 86 (2000), 620–39; Marvin R. O’Connell, John Ireland and the American Catholic Church (St. Paul, 1988), reviewed in CHR, 76 (1990), 892–93. 186. Reher, Catholic Intellectual Life in America, reviewed in CHR, 76 (1990), 407–09; Appleby, “Church and Age Unite!” (Notre Dame, 1992), reviewed in CHR, 79 (1993), 576– 78; Kauffman, Tradition and Transformation in Catholic Culture: The Priests of Saint Sulpice in the United States from 1791 to the Present (New York, 1988), reviewed in CHR, 76 (1990), 152–54; Fogarty, American Catholic Biblical Scholarship (San Francisco, 1989), reviewed in CHR, 77 (1991), 531–32. 204 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM intelligible form to the history of clerical education in the United States, and Thomas J. Shelley’s history of St. Joseph’s Seminary, Dunwoodie, exemplified the high quality of scholarship being devoted to individual seminaries.187 Histories of Georgetown University and Catholic University of America illustrate the excellent work done during these years on institutions of higher education for lay students, and Marvin O’Connell told the story of Notre Dame’s near-legendary founder, Edward Sorin.188 William P. Leahy and Paul A. Fitzgerald published specialized studies of Jesuit universities, and Tracy Schier and Cynthia Russett edited an important volume of scholarly essays on Catholic women’s colleges. Philip Gleason’s Contending with Modernity traced the overall development of Catholic higher education in the twentieth century, giving special attention to the way Catholic colleges and universities reacted to intellectual currents, institutional pressures, and broader social movements from 1900 through the 1960s.189 Contending with Modernity—along with books by Arnold Sparr and Peter Huff—also shed new light upon the “Catholic Intellectual and Cultural Revival” of the interwar years. Gleason stressed the importance of neo-Scholasticism as the cognitive basis of this development, and portrayed the revival itself as the ideological matrix within which the ubiquitous Catholic Action movements of that era flourished. Sparr dealt primarily with the literary dimension of the revival, while Huff used as a prism the career of the poet, critic, and convert to Catholicism Allen Tate.190 187. Kauffman, Tradition; White’s The Diocesan Seminary in the United States: A History from the 1780s to the Present (Notre Dame, 1989), reviewed in CHR, 76 (1990), 881–82; Shelley’s Dunwoodie: The History of St. Joseph’s Seminary (Westminster, MD, 1993), reviewed in CHR, 80 (1994), 178–79. See also Thomas J. Shelley, “Francis Cardinal Spellman and His Seminary at Dunwoodie,” CHR, 80 (1994), 282–98. 188. Robert Emmett Curran, The Bicentennial History of Georgetown University, vol. 1, From Academy to University, 1789–1889 (Washington, DC, 1993), reviewed in CHR, 81 (1995), 103–05; C. Joseph Nuesse, The Catholic University of America: A Centennial History (Washington, DC, 1990), reviewed in CHR, 77 (1991), 715–17; Marvin R. O’Connell, Edward Sorin (Notre Dame, 2001), reviewed in CHR, 89 (2003), 341–42. 189. William P. Leahy, Adapting to America: Catholics, Jesuits, and Higher Education in the Twentieth Century (Washington, DC, 1991), reviewed in CHR, 78 (1992), 330–31; Paul A. FitzGerald, The Governance of Jesuit Colleges in the United States, 1920–1970 (Notre Dame, 1984), reviewed in CHR, 72 (1986), 670–72; Tracy Schier and Cynthia Russett, Catholic Women’s Colleges in America (Baltimore, 2002), reviewed in CHR, 89 (2003), 123–26; Philip Gleason, Contending with Modernity: Catholic Higher Education in the Twentieth Century, reviewed in CHR, 83 (1997), 144–45. 190. Arnold Sparr, To Promote, Defend, and Redeem: The Catholic Literary Revival and the Cultural Transformation of American Catholicism, 1920–1960 (New York, 1990), reviewed PHILIP GLEASON 205 James T. Fisher approached the same period from a different interpretive angle in his Catholic Counterculture in America, which analyzed the mystique associated with the Catholic Worker, its offshoots, and individuals influenced by Dorothy Day.191 Day is also among those featured in Mark S. Massa’s Catholics and American Culture, a collection of essays that examines American Catholicism from the 1930s to ’60s through the interpretive framework of “Niebuhrian irony.”192 Catholic influence in the area of popular culture—especially as it was exerted through the Legion of Decency— was the object of scholarly criticism in this period, a topic explored in Una M. Cadegan’s article “Guardians of Democracy or Cultural Storm Troopers? American Catholics and the Control of Popular Media, 1934–1966.”193 Issues relating to science and religion attracted relatively little attention from historians of American Catholicism: three articles in this field appeared in the CHR during the second part of Trisco’s editorship. William J. Astore’s “Gentle Skeptics? American Catholic Encounters with Polygenism, Geology, and Evolutionary Theories from 1845 to 1875” surveyed the reactions of commentators like Orestes Brownson and Clarence Walworth to classic nineteenth-century scientific challenges to traditional religious faith.194 John A. Heitman described a project of the Catholic revival era that undertook to bring Thomistic “true science” to bear on modern problems in a teaching and research institution supported by the Archdiocese of Cincinnati.195 And Patrick Allitt surveyed American in CHR, 77 (1991), 342–43; Peter Huff, Allen Tate and the Catholic Literary Revival: Trace of the Fugitive Gods (New York, 1996), reviewed in CHR, 84 (1998), 156–17. See also Stephen A. Warner, “Joseph Husslein, S.J., and the American Catholic Literary Revival: ‘A University in Print,’” CHR, 88 (2001), 688–702; and Anita Gandalfo, Testing the Faith: The New Catholic Fiction in America (New York, 1992), reviewed in CHR, 79 (1993), 782–83, which deals with works written after the Second Vatican Council. 191. James T. Fisher, The Catholic Counterculture in America, 1933–1962 (Chapel Hill, 1989), reviewed in CHR, 76 (1990), 900–02. An earlier work that covered some of the same ground—Mel Piehl’s Breaking Bread: The Catholic Worker and the Origin of Catholic Radicalism in America (Philadelphia, 1982)—seems not to have been reviewed in the CHR. 192. Mark S. Massa, Catholics and American Culture: Fulton Sheen, Dorothy Day, and the Notre Dame Football Team (New York, 1999), reviewed in CHR, 86 (2000), 149–50. See also Anne Klejment and Nancy L. Roberts, eds., American Catholic Pacifism: The Influence of Dorothy Day and the Catholic Worker Movement (Westport, CT, 1996), reviewed in CHR, 85 (1999), 125–26; and James J. Farrell, The Spirit of the Sixties (New York, 1997), reviewed in CHR, 85 (1999), 128–29. 193. CHR, 87 (2001), 252–82. 194. CHR, 82 (1996), 40–76. 195. John A. Heitman, “Doing ‘True Science’: The Early History of the Institutum Divi Thomae, 1935–1951,” CHR, 88 (2002), 702–22. See also C. Kevin Gillespie, Psychology 206 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM Catholic reactions to the scientific and public policy questions raised by the environmental movement in the late decades of the twentieth century.196 Postconciliar shifts in outlook among American Catholics are reflected in a number of the works already noted; in Jay Dolan’s 1995 ACHA presidential address, “The Search for an American Catholicism,”197 and in books like Being Right: Conservative Catholics in America (1995) and What’s Left: Liberal American Catholics (1999).198 James P. Gaffey imaginatively captured the tensions in his analysis of the controversy that attended the building of a new cathedral in San Francisco, and Samuel J. Thomas published two articles on significant postconciliar issues: one dealt with an early Vatican effort to monitor American Catholics’ interpretation of the council’s teachings; the other brought new evidence to bear on the controversy surrounding Father Charles Curran’s 1967 dismissal from, and subsequent reinstatement to, the faculty of The Catholic University of America.199 American Catholics’ reception of the Church’s teaching on contraception—an issue central to the controversies of the post–Vatican II era—is judiciously recorded in Leslie Tentler’s Catholics and Contraception: An American History.200 During these years, the CHR’s book review section recorded the appearance of many valuable institutional studies. Among diocesan histories, Tentler’s Seasons of Grace has already been noted; two other midwestern dioceses—those of Milwaukee and Fort Wayne–South Bend—were treated in first-rate works by Steven M. Avella and Joseph M. White, respectively.201 Older dioceses in the East were superbly covered by Thomas W. and American Catholicism: From Confession to Therapy (New York, 2001), reviewed in CHR, 88 (2002), 807–08. 196. Patrick Allitt, “American Catholics and the Environment, 1960–1995,” CHR, 84 (1998), 263–80. 197. CHR, 82 (1996), 169–86. 198. Being Right (Bloomington, IN, 1995), a collection of essays edited by Mary Jo Weaver and R. Scott Appleby, reviewed in CHR, 83 (1997), 531–33; What’s Left? (Bloomington, IN, 1999), a similar collection edited by Weaver, seems not to have been reviewed in the CHR. 199. James P. Gaffey, “The Anatomy of Transition: Cathedral-Building and Social Justice in San Francisco, 1962–1971,” CHR, 70 (1984), 45–73; Samuel J. Thomas, “After Vatican Council II: The American Catholic Bishops and the ‘Syllabus’ from Rome, 1966– 1968,” CHR, 83 (1997), 233–57; “A ‘Final Disposition . . . One Way or Another’: The Real End of the First Curran Affair,” CHR, 91 (2005), 714–42. 200. Reviewed in CHR, 91 (2005), 873–74. 201. Avella, In the Richness of the Earth (Milwaukee, 2002), reviewed in CHR, 90 (2004), 574–76; White, Worthy of the Gospel of Christ (Fort Wayne, IN, 2007), reviewed in CHR, 95 (2009), 639–40. PHILIP GLEASON 207 Spalding’s The Premier See: A History of the Archdiocese of Baltimore, 1789– 1989, and Gerald P. Fogarty’s Commonwealth Catholicism: A History of the Catholic Church in Virginia.202 Randall Miller and Jon Wakelyn’s Catholics in the Old South; Michael J. McNally’s Catholicism in South Florida; Edward Kantowicz’s Corporation Sole and Steven M. Avella’s This Confident Church, which cover successive periods of twentieth-century Chicago Catholicism; and Paula Kane’s Separatism and Subculture: Boston Catholicism, 1900–1920, stand out among regional and local studies.203 Dorothy M. Brown and Elizabeth McKeown’s The Poor Belong to Us traced the evolution of Catholic welfare work and its relation to the professionalization of such activities, and Mary J. Oates explored The Catholic Philanthropic Tradition in America. Christopher J. Kauffman published Ministry and Meaning, a history of Catholic health care in the United States, as well as Faith and Fraternalism, a first-rate centennial history of the Knights of Columbus.204 Kauffman also contributed an article on the controversial role played by Catholic Relief Services in wartime Vietnam. It was perhaps the most topically sensitive of the half-dozen or so articles published during this period on Catholic involvement in public affairs.205 Others falling into this classification included discussions of church-state issues, the persecution of the Catholic Church in Mexico, and the polemical politicking of Father Charles E. Coughlin.206 202. See Spalding, Premier See (Baltimore, 1989), reviewed in CHR, 76 (1990), 405– 07, and Fogarty, Commonwealth Catholicism (Notre Dame, 2001), reviewed in CHR, 88 (2002), 383–85. 203. See Miller and Wakelyn, Catholics in the Old South (Macon, GA, 1983), reviewed in CHR, 71 (1985), 94–96; McNally, Catholicism in South Florida (Gainesville, FL, 1982), reviewed in CHR, 72 (1986), 511–12; Kantowicz, Corporation Sole (Notre Dame, 1983), reviewed in CHR, 71 (1985), 146–47; Avella, Confident Church (Notre Dame, 1992), reviewed in CHR, 81 (1996), 330–32; Kane, Separatism and Subculture (Chapel Hill, 1994), reviewed in CHR, 81 (1995), 115–17. 204. Brown and McKeown, The Poor Belong to Us (Cambridge, MA, 1997), reviewed in CHR, 85 (1999), 663–64; Oates, Philanthropic Tradition (Bloomington, IN, 1995), reviewed in CHR, 82 (1996), 297–99; Kauffman, Ministry and Meaning (New York, 1995), reviewed in CHR, 83 (1997), 135–36; Kauffman, Faith and Fraternalism (New York, 1982), reviewed in CHR, 71 (1985), 139–41. 205. Kauffman, “Politics, Programs, and Protests: Catholic Relief Services in Vietnam, 1954–1975,” CHR, 90 (2005), 223–50. James T. Fisher’s Dr. America: The Lives of Thomas A. Dooley, 1927–1961 (Amherst, MA, 1997), which dealt, inter alia, with Dooley’s activities in Vietnam, was subjected to perhaps the most ill-tempered review ever published in the CHR. See CHR, 84 (1998), 594–95. 206. Thomas J. Shelley, “The Oregon School Case and the National Catholic Welfare Conference,” CHR, 75 (1989), 439–57; Joseph Richard Preville, “Constitutional Quarrels: 208 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM Although not a major topic of interest, articles and reviews on social reform continued to appear in the CHR. Thus Debra Campbell traced the career of a convert Catholic who began his career as antisocialist lecturer and evolved into a touring Catholic street preacher, and Benjamin K. Hunnicutt discussed a neglected aspect of John A. Ryan’s prescription for social reform.207 Thomas R. Greene contributed two articles on issues of the 1920s and ’30s, and Colin J. Davis described the work of a labor priest on the New York waterfront.208 Book reviews ranged from works on the Progressive Era, through the New Deal, to the thinking of American Catholics on war and peace.209 Catholics, Jews, and the Aftermath of Lemon v. Kurtzmen,” CHR, 78 (1992), 217–31; Lawrence J. McAndrews, “Choosing ‘Choice’: George Bush and Federal Aid to Nonpublic Schools,” CHR, 87 (2001), 453–69; Douglas J. Slawson, “The National Catholic Welfare Conference and the Mexican Church-State Conflict of the Mid-1930s: A Case of Déjà Vu,” CHR, 80 (1994), 36–57; Matthew Redinger, “‘To Arouse and Inform’: The Knights of Columbus and United States-Mexican Relations, 1924–1937,” CHR, 88 (2002), 489–518; Earl Boyea, “The Reverend Charles Coughlin and the Church: The Gallagher Years, 1930– 1937,” CHR, 81 (1995), 211–25. Also on Coughlin, see Mary Christine Athans, The Coughlin-Fahey Connection: Father Charles E. Coughlin, Father Denis Fahey, C.S.Sp. and Religious Anti-Semitism in the United States, 1938–1954 (New York, 1991), reviewed in CHR, 79 (1993), 571–73. See also David B. Woolner and Richard G. Kurial, eds., FDR, The Vatican, and the Roman Catholic Church in America, 1933–1945 (New York, 2003), an uneven collection of essays reviewed in CHR, 90 (2004), 361–64. 207. Campbell, “David Goldstein and the Rise of the Catholic Campaigners for Christ,” CHR, 72 (1986), 33–50; Hunnicutt, “Monsignor John A. Ryan and the Shorter Hours for Labor: A Forgotten Vision of ‘Genuine’ Progress,” CHR, 69 (1983), 384–402. See also Robert G. Kennedy et al., Religion and Public Life: The Legacy of Monsignor John A. Ryan (Lanham, MD, 2001), reviewed in CHR, 89 (2003), 569–70. 208. Greene, “The Catholic Committee for the Ratification of the Child Labor Amendment, 1935–1937: Origin and Limits,” CHR, 74 (1988), 248–69; “The Catholic Conference on Industrial Problems in Normalcy and Depression,” CHR, 77 (1991), 437–69; Davis, “‘Launch Out into the Deep and Let Down Your Nets’: John Corridan, S.J., and New York Longshoremen in the Post World War II Era,” CHR, 86 (2000), 66–84. 209. Joseph M. McShane, “Sufficiently Radical:” Catholicism, Progressivism, and the Bishops’ Program of 1919 (Washington, DC, 1986), reviewed in CHR, 74 (1988), 137–38; Deirdre M. Moloney, American Catholic Lay Groups and Transatlantic Social Reform in the Progressive Era (Chapel Hill, 2002), reviewed in CHR, 88 (2002), 806–07; Thomas E. Blantz, A Priest in Public Service: Francis J. Haas and the New Deal, reviewed in CHR, 75 (1985), 147–48; Kenneth J. Heineman, A Catholic New Deal: Religion and Reform in Depression Pittsburgh (University Park, PA, 1999), reviewed in CHR, 86 (2000), 259–60; William A. Au, The Cross, the Flag, and the Bomb: American Catholics Debate War and Peace, 1960–1982 (Westport, CT, 1985), reviewed in CHR, 72 (1986), 686–87; George Weigel, Tranquillitas Ordinis: The Present Failure and Future Prospect of American Catholic Thought on War and Peace (New York, 1987), reviewed in CHR, 74 (1988), 142–43. PHILIP GLEASON 209 Another traditional area of historical interest, missions and missionaries, produced something new around the turn of the millennium—publications devoted to the work of American Catholic missionaries in foreign parts. Angelyn Dries’s masterly The Missionary Movement in American Catholic History (1998) provided a comprehensive overview of missionary activity directed toward the United States, within the country, and outwardly from the United States to other parts of the world. 210 Almost simultaneously, three articles on foreign missions appeared in the CHR.211 Considering that these three contributions equaled the sum total of previous articles on that subject since the CHR began publication, it seems appropriate to call the late 1990s a breakthrough period for research by American Catholic historians on foreign missions.212 But, as we shall see, missions in the United States continued to be the main topic of interest historiographically. Segment 7 : 2 0 0 6 to 2 0 1 3 During the final period covered in this survey, Nelson H. Minnich served as editor of the CHR. He assumed that position with the January 2006 issue and still serves as editor, but 2013 is the last full year for which records are available as I write. In that eight-year span, the CHR published 108 articles, of which thirty-one (29 percent) dealt with the history of American Catholicism. Among book reviews, the proportion was much smaller—roughly 8 percent (169 of almost 2100 reviews). During this period, the CHR published three articles on missions, all of which featured activities of the traditional, homeland-focused variety.213 210. Reviewed in CHR, 85 (1999), 327–28. 211. Paul Rivera, “‘Field Found!’ Establishing the Maryknoll Mission Enterprise in the United States and China, 1918–1928,” CHR, 84 (1998), 477–517; Hugh Laracy, “Maine, Missionaries, and the Marists: American Catholic Missionaries in the South Pacific,” CHR, 85 (1999), 566–88; James F. Garneau, “The First Inter-American Episcopal Conference, November 2–4, 1959: Canada and the United States Called to the Rescue of Latin America,” CHR, 87 (2001), 662–87. 212. Joseph P. Ryan’s brief Miscellany item, “American Contributions to the Catholic Missionary Effort of the Twentieth Century,” CHR, 31 (1945), 171–80, was a real outlier. Robert Carbonneau, “Passionists in China, 1921–1929: An Essay in Mission Experience,” CHR, 66 (1980), 392–416; and Sue Bradshaw, “Religious Women in China: An Understanding of Indigenization,” CHR, 68 (1982), 28–45, indicate awakening interest on the part of historians of American Catholicism. 213. Ross Alexander Enochs, “The Franciscan Mission to the Navajos: Mission Method and Indigenous Religion, 1898–1940,” CHR, 92 (2006), 46–73; William A. Clark, 210 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM The same was largely true in the book review section: only one of the twenty works reviewed explored a topic related to foreign missions.214 Among the more traditional type, Gerald McKevitt’s Brokers of Culture: Italian Jesuits in the American West, 1848–1919, was notably successful in linking his subjects’ missionary activities to the later development of California and the Northwest. 215 Unlike missionary studies, American Catholic historians’ self-conscious attention to “frontiers” and “the West” was something of a novelty. The first indication of a revival of interest in Frederick Jackson Turner’s long-out-of-fashion “thesis” was “Frontier Catholicism,” an article by Thomas W. Spalding in the CHR’s July 1991 issue.216 Spalding began by noting that Turner had little to say about religion in his discussions of the frontier. However, religious activities had historically been a feature of frontier life, and Spalding urged historians of American Catholicism to investigate whether frontier conditions as described by Turner might have affected the development of the Catholic Church in newly settled areas. By the end of the decade, the follow-up to Spalding’s challenge was clearly underway. The Frontiers and Catholic Identities (1999)—a volume in Christopher Kauffman’s series of documentary anthologies—was hailed by the CHR’s reviewer as “destined to become a classic,” and in the new century a volume of essays on Catholicism in the West also received a rave review.217 Two monographic studies returned to a period and area about which J. Herman Schauinger, Clyde F. Crews, and Robert Trisco had written earlier, namely, the trans-Appalachian frontier of the early republican era.218 In 2011, Steven M. Avella’s ACHA presidential address— “The Church at Nanrantsouak: Sebastien Rale, S.J., and the Wabanaki of Maine’s Kennebec River,” CHR, 92 (2006), 225–51; John Mack, “Osage Mission: The Story of Catholic Missionary Work in Southeast Kansas,” CHR, 96 (2010), 262–81. 214. David J. Endres, American Crusade: Catholic Youth in the World Mission Movement from World War I through Vatican II (Eugene, OR, 2010), reviewed in CHR, 97 (2011), 861–62. 215. Reviewed in CHR, 94 (2008), 607–08. 216. CHR, 77 (1991), 470–84. This was Spalding’s Catholic Daughters of the Americas Lecture, given at CUA in April 1991. 217. Anne M. Butler, Michael E. Engh, and Thomas W. Spalding, eds., The Frontiers and Catholic Identities (Maryknoll, NY, 1999), reviewed in CHR, 87 (2001), 764–66; Roberto Treviño and Richard V. Francavillia, eds., Catholicism in the American West: A Rosary of Hidden Voices (College Station, TX, 2007), reviewed in CHR, 95 (2009), 180–81. 218. John R. Dichtl, Frontiers of Faith: Bringing Catholicism to the West in the Early Republic (Lexington, KY, 2008), reviewed in CHR, 95 (2009), 636–37; Michael Pasquier, PHILIP GLEASON 211 “American Catholicism in the Twentieth-Century American West: The Next Frontier”—drew upon the post-Turnerian “new western history” to identify characteristic features of the region that invited research by Catholic historians. Avella also provided a substantial example of what he was recommending in his book on the mutual interaction of Catholicism and urban development in Sacramento, California.219 David Emmons and Anne M. Butler added to the literature with histories of the Irish in the West and Catholic Sisters in the West, respectively.220 Several other articles and reviews dealt more generally with ethnics and nuns—one on French Canadian sisters combined the two categories.221 Among those dealing strictly with migrant groups, one article focused on German Americans; another analyzed Slovak adjustment to America’s religious diversity, and a third explored the impact of the Cristero War of the late 1920s on Mexican migration.222 Among book-length publications, works on Hispanics accounted for ten of the sixteen books reviewed during this period in the general area of immigration and ethnic- Fathers on the Frontier: French Missionaries and the Roman Catholic Priesthood in the United States, 1789–1870 (New York, 2010), reviewed in CHR, 97 (2011), 608–09. Schauinger’s Cathedrals in the Wilderness (Milwaukee, 1952), reviewed in CHR, 39 (1956), 60–62; Crews’s An American Holy Land: A History of the Archdiocese of Louisville (Louisville, 1987), reviewed in CHR, 79 (1989), 322–23; Trisco’s The Holy See and the Nascent Church in the Middle Western United States, 1826–1850 (Rome, 1962) was reviewed in CHR, 48 (1963), 522–23. Also relevant to this region is Andrew H. M. Stern, Southern Crucifix, Southern Cross: CatholicProtestant Relations in the Old South (Tuscaloosa, AL, 2012), reviewed in CHR, 99 (2013), 807–08. 219. Steven M. Avella, “American Catholicism in the Twentieth-Century American West: The Next Frontier,” CHR, 97 (2011), 219–49; Sacramento and the Catholic Church: Shaping a Capital City (Reno, 2008), reviewed in CHR, 96 (2010), 177–78. See also Bernice Maher Mooney and J. Terrence Fitzgerald, Salt of the Earth: The History of the Catholic Church in Utah, 1776–2007 (Salt Lake City, 2008), reviewed in CHR, 95 (2009), 874–75. 220. David Emmons, Beyond the American Pale: The Irish in the West, 1848–1910 (Norman, OK, 2010), reviewed in CHR, 98 (2012), 163–64; Anne M. Butler, Across God’s Frontiers: Catholic Sisters in the West, 1850–1920 (Chapel Hill, 2012), reviewed in CHR, 100 (2014), 382–83. 221. Florence Mae Waldron, “Re-Evaluating the Role of ‘National’ Identities in the American Catholic Church at the Turn of the Twentieth Century: The Role of Les Petites Franciscaines de Marie (PDM),” CHR, 95 (2009), 515–45. 222. Stephen Gross, “The Grasshopper Shrine at Cold Spring, Minnesota: Religion and Market Capitalism among German-American Catholics,” CHR, 92 (2006), 215–43; Mark Stolarik, “Slovak Immigrants Come to Terms with Religious Diversity in North America,” CHR, 96 (2010), 56–84; Julia G. Young, “Cristero Diaspora: Mexican Immigrants, the U.S. Catholic Church and Mexico’s Cristero War, 1926–1929,” CHR, 98 (2012), 271–300. 212 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM ity.223 Two books were added to the literature on black Catholicism: R. Bentley Anderson’s monograph on post–World War II Catholic interracialist activities in New Orleans, and Gary B. Agee’s biographical study of the black Catholic leader Daniel Rudd.224 As for Catholic sisters, their involvement in health care, social welfare work, and race relations was highlighted in four books; another traced the influence of the New Orleans Ursulines in the first century of their presence in the Crescent City; and, most recently, Margaret McGuinness provided a concise general history of nuns in America.225 Kathleen Sprows Cummings discussed two sister-educators and two laywomen-journalists in her book on Catholic participation in gender-related developments at the turn of the twentieth century, and Joseph S. Rossi contributed an article on two Catholic laywomen of a later generation who represented the Church’s interests at the United Nations and other international bodies.226 223. Timothy Matovina, Latino Catholicism: Transformation in America’s Largest Church (Princeton, 2012), reviewed in CHR, 99 (2013), 390–92, provides the most recent overall survey of the subject. 224. R. Bentley Anderson, Black, White, and Catholic: New Orleans Interracialism, 1947– 1956 (Nashville, 2005), reviewed in CHR, 93 (2007), 460–61; Gary B. Agee, A Cry for Justice: Daniel Rudd and His Life in Black Catholicism, Journalism, and Activism, 1854–1933 (Fayetteville, AR, 2011), reviewed in CHR, 98 (2012), 829–31. Sean Fabun, “Catholic Chaplains in the Civil War,” CHR, 99 (2013), 675–701, does not discuss issues of slavery or race. 225. Bernadette McCauley, Who Shall Take Care of Our Sick: Roman Catholic Sisters and the Development of Catholic Hospitals in New York City (Baltimore, 2005), reviewed in CHR, 92 (2006), 352–53; Suellen Hoy, Good Hearts: Catholic Sisters in Chicago’s Past (Urbana, IL, 2006), reviewed in CHR, 93 (2007), 722–23; Maureen Fitzgerald, Habits of Compassion: Irish Catholic Nuns and the Origins of New York’s Welfare System, 1830–1920 (Urbana, IL, 2006), reviewed in CHR, 93 (2007), 993–94; Amy L. Koehlinger, The New Nuns: Racial Justice and Religious Reform in the 1960s (Cambridge, MA, 2007), reviewed in CHR, 94 (2008), 611–12; Emily Clark, Masterless Mistresses: The New Orleans Ursulines and the Development of a New World Society, 1727–1834 (Chapel Hill, 2007), reviewed in CHR, 94 (2008), 855–56; Margaret McGuinness, Called to Serve: A History of Nuns in America (New York, 2013), reviewed in CHR, 100 (2014), 380–82. For an earlier study of the New Orleans Ursulines, published in 1993 but based on research done in the 1940s, see CHR, 80 (1994), 656–57. 226. Kathleen Sprows Cummings, New Women of the Old Faith: Gender and American Catholicism in the Progressive Era (Chapel Hill, 2009), reviewed in CHR, 96 (2010), 178–80; Joseph S. Rossi, “‘The Status of Women’: Two American Catholic Women at the UN, 1947– 1972,” CHR, 93 (2007), 300–324. See also Mary J. Henold, Catholic and Feminist: The Surprising History of the American Catholic Feminist Movement (Chapel Hill, 2008), reviewed in CHR, 95 (2009), 888–90; Katherine E. Harmon, There Were Also Many Women There: Lay Women in the Liturgical Movement in the United States, 1926–59 (Collegeville, MN, 2012), reviewed in CHR, 99 (2013), 585–86, and Mary Jeremy Daigler, Incompatible with God’s Design: A History of the Women’s Ordination Movement in the U.S. Roman Catholic Church (Lanham, MD, 2012), reviewed in CHR, 99 (2013), 805–7. PHILIP GLEASON 213 Historical interest in various aspects of anti-Catholicism seemed to reawaken in the first few years of the new century. Two articles dealt specifically with the subject, and it loomed as a major background element in a third.227 A half dozen or so books on anti-Catholicism were also reviewed in this period. Jason K. Duncan traced its political ramifications in colonial and early national New York. Mark S. Massa offered an interpretive survey of the subject, in which he distinguished between outright bigotry and criticism that reflected legitimate opposition to the behavior of Catholics or positions espoused by the Church. Justin Nordstrom’s analysis of anti-Catholicism in the Progressive Era pointed to ideological issues as basic to the populist anti-Catholicism of publications like The Menace. 228 The most sensational example of straightforward religious bigotry involved the 1921 murder of a Catholic priest in Birmingham, Alabama—an episode explored in Sharon Davies’s Rising Road: A True Tale of Love, Race, and Religion in America. Later improvement in the area of interreligious relations was recorded in Kevin M. Schultz’s Tri-Faith America: How Catholics and Jews Held Postwar America to Its Protestant Promise, and Anthony Burke Smith’s The Look of Catholics reported on the way Catholics were portrayed in American popular culture from the Depression to the cold war.229 One article published in this period focused directly on the prickly issue of church-state relations and education, and another detected the influence of John Courtney Murray’s thinking on a change in the approach taken by Catholic authorities in Massachusetts in respect to legalization of birth control.230 A third traced the early history of the Right to Life move227. Michael S. Carter, “A ‘Traiterous Religion:’ Indulgences and the Anti-Catholic Imagination in Eighteenth-Century New England,” CHR, 99 (2013), 52–77; Adam Tate, “Catholics and Southern Honor: Rev. Patrick Lynch’s Paper War with Rev. James Henry Thornwell,” CHR, 99 (2013), 455–79; Thomas E. Blantz, “James Gillespie Blaine, His Family, and ‘Romanism,’” CHR, 94 (2008), 695–716. 228. Jason K. Duncan, Citizens or Papists: The Politics of Anti-Catholicism in New York, 1685–1821 (New York, 2005), reviewed in CHR, 94 (2008), 174–76; Mark S. Massa, AntiCatholicism in America: The Last Acceptable Prejudice (New York, 2003), reviewed in CHR, 90 (2004), 355–57; Justin Nordstrom, Danger on the Doorstep: Anti-Catholicism and American Print Culture in the Progressive Era (Notre Dame, 2006), reviewed in CHR, 93 (2007), 719–21. 229. For reviews, see CHR, 98 (2012), 168–69 (for Rising Road); CHR, 98 (2012), 173–74 (for Tri-Faith America); and CHR, 97 (2011), 395–96 (for The Look of Catholics). Michael P. Carroll, American Catholics in the Protestant Imagination, reviewed in CHR, 94 (2008), 848–49, though not about anti-Catholicism as such, critiques the assumptions about Catholicism embodied in academic studies of religion in America. 230. Erik J. Chaput, “‘Diversity and Independence on the Educational Marketplace’: The Rhode Island CEF and the 1968 Tuition-Grant Debate,” CHR, 95 (2009), 57–78; Seth 214 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM ment.231 On a much larger scale, James Hitchcock’s two-volume work on the Supreme Court’s handling of religious questions from its earliest days through the 1990s provided the most comprehensive treatment of the subject available; Emma Long’s study concentrated on issues involving education since World War II; William Issel included church-state issues in his much broader works on Catholicism in twentieth-century San Francisco.232 Among other articles dealing with aspects of Catholic involvement in American public life, one featured the issue of welfare reform under President Nixon, and two focused directly on Vatican-American relations.233 In respect to the latter topic, by far the most important publication was Peter R. D’Agostino’s pioneering analysis of the “Roman Question,” i.e., the controversy over the political status of the papacy and its relations with civil authorities in Italy—an issue that persisted in varying modulations from the mid-nineteenth century on through the Fascist era and World War II.234 Although usually dismissed by historians of American Catholicism as largely irrelevant to the development of the Church in this country, D’Agostino insisted that the Roman Question was essential to the story, that American Catholics’ enthusiastic adherence to papalist “ideology” was a key element in their religious identity, and that the Roman Question was a primary factor in shaping the Church’s image in the minds of non-Catholics. The book thus obviously touched on the sources of antiCatholicism, but it would be quite wrong to think of Rome in America in Meehan, “From Patriotism to Pluralism: How Catholics Initiated the Repeal of the Birth Control Restrictions in Massachusetts,” CHR, 96 (2010), 470–98. 231. Robert N. Karrer, “The National Right to Life Committee: Its Founding, Its History, and the Emergence of the Pro-Life Movement Prior to Roe v. Wade,” CHR, 97 (2011), 527–77. 232. James Hitchcock, The Supreme Court and Religion in American Life (Princeton, 2004), 2 vols., reviewed in CHR, 92 (2006), 691–92; Emma Long, The Church-State Debate: Religion, Education and the Establishment Clause in Post-War America (New York, 2012), reviewed in CHR, 99 (2013), 808–09; William Issel, For Both Cross and Flag: Catholic Action, Anti-Catholicism, and National Security Politics in World War II San Francisco (Philadelphia, 2010), reviewed in CHR, 98 (2012), 170–72; Church and State in the City: Catholics and Politics in Twentieth-Century San Francisco (Philadelphia, 2013), reviewed in CHR, 99 (2013), 586–88. 233. Lawrence J. McAndrews, “Catholic Cacophony: Richard Nixon, the Church, and Welfare Reform,” CHR, 98 (2012), 41–66; Andrew M. Essig and Jennifer L. Moore, “U.S.Holy See Diplomacy: The Establishment of Formal Relations, 1984,” CHR, 95 (2009), 741– 64; Marie Gayte, “The Vatican and the Reagan Administration: A Cold War Alliance?” CHR, 97 (2011), 713–36. American Catholics were only marginally involved in the matters discussed in Karim Schelkens, “Vatican Diplomacy after the Cuban Missile Crisis: New Light on the Release of Josyf Slipyj,” CHR, 97 (2011), 679–712. 234. Peter R. D’Agostino, Rome in America: Transnational Catholic Ideology from the Risorgimento to Fascism (Chapel Hill, 2004), reviewed in CHR, 92 (2006), 135–36. PHILIP GLEASON 215 such narrow terms. D’Agostino offered it as a fundamental revision of the prevailing “Americanist” narrative of American Catholic history, and it is a shame that his life was cut short by violence before he had much chance to participate in the discussion its publication sparked—to say nothing of the loss to scholarship represented by his being prevented from completing the work he had in mind for the future.235 The asperity with which D’Agostino criticized earlier Catholic historians made it likely that his book would have excited an extended discussion had he lived longer. In his view, earlier historians’ inability to grasp the importance of the Roman Question stemmed from their misguided acceptance of “American exceptionalism”—that is, uncritical acceptance of the belief that the Church which confronted wholly novel conditions in this country had developed in quite distinctive ways and was, in general, a very different entity from the Church in Europe. In seeking to correct this error, D’Agostino emphasized the then-new concepts of “transnationalism” and (in respect to the experience of Italian immigrants) “diaspora.” But by asserting so vigorously the central importance of the tie to Rome, D’Agostino also tacitly rehabilitated the long-disparaged “institutional” dimension of Catholic historiography. Two other articles published during these years dealt with historiographic issues. Philip Gleason’s “Working in a Tradition” is a descriptive review of the influences—personal, thematic, and topical—that shaped his research and writings on American Catholic history since the 1960s. C. Walker Gollar’s “The Historical Methodology of John Tracy Ellis” analyzed two incidents in which Ellis’s commitment to historical truth-telling came into conflict with his reluctance to elaborate on delicate personal matters that he did not deem essential to the validity of the historian’s account.236 Intellectual history—of which historiography might be considered a subbranch—accounted for several articles and books. Patrick Carey’s 2007 article “Avery Dulles, St. Benedict’s Center, and No Salvation Outside the Church, 1940–1953,”237 anticipated his biography of Dulles, which was 235. D’Agostino’s April 2005 murder in broad daylight on a street near his home in Oak Park, Illinois, has never been solved. 236. See CHR, 97 (2011), 435–60 (Gleason article), and CHR, 97 (2011), 46–75 (Gollar article). R. Scott Appleby and Kathleen Sprows Cummings, eds., Catholics in the American Century: Recasting Narratives of U.S. History (Ithaca, NY, 2012), reviewed in CHR, 99 (2013), 808–11, is also relevant here. 237. CHR, 93 (2007), 553–75. 216 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM reviewed four years later.238 The controversial moral theologian Charles E. Curran published a general history of American work in that field of specialization; another moral theologian, John C. Ford, was the subject of a biography; and Sandra Yocum Mize traced recent changes in Catholic theology as they were registered in the history of the College Theology Society.239 Though not theology as such, the relation of faith to psychology and psychiatry drew attention from two scholars, and Patrick J. Hayes told the story of the Catholic Commission on Intellectual and Cultural Affairs, an organization that aspired to bring together Catholic scholars, writers, and artists from all fields of learning and creativity.240 Among institutional studies with a strong intellectual dimension, articles by Philip Gleason and Kevin A. Codd offered an interpretive sketch of the beginnings of Catholic higher education in America and a history of the American College of Louvain, respectively.241 Histories of five Catholic universities were published in this period, of which the most notable was the completion of Robert Emmett Curran’s monumental three-volume work on Georgetown University, the nation’s oldest institution of Catholic higher education.242 Also of interest were Kathleen Mahoney’s study of a controversy over curricular issues between Harvard president Charles W. Eliot and Jesuit educators that took place at the turn of the twentieth century; a book examining the impact of coeducation on women’s colleges since the 1960s; and a study, published in Germany, of the American career of the refugee scholar Stephan Kuttner.243 238. Patrick W. Carey, Avery Cardinal Dulles, S.J.: A Model Theologian, 1918–2008 (New York, 2010), reviewed in CHR, 97 (2011), 611–12. 239. Charles E. Curran, Catholic Moral Theology in the United States: A History (Washington, DC, 2008), reviewed in CHR, 95 (2009), 634–35; Eric Marcelo Geñilo, John Cuthbert Ford, S.J.: Moral Theologian at the End of the Manualist Era (Washington, DC, 2007), reviewed in CHR, 95 (2009), 181–82; Sandra Yocum Mize, Joining the Revolution in Theology: The College Theology Society, 1954–2004, reviewed in CHR, 94 (2008), 610–11. 240. Abraham Nussbaum, “Profession and Faith: The National Guild of Catholic Psychiatrists, 1950–1968,” CHR, 93 (2007), 845–65; Robert Kugelmann, Psychology and Catholicism: Contested Boundaries (New York, 2011), reviewed in CHR, 98 (2012), 335–36; Patrick J. Hayes, A Catholic Brain Trust: The Catholic Commission of Intellectual and Cultural Affairs, 1945–1965 (Notre Dame, 2011), reviewed in CHR, 98 (2012), 398–99. 241. Gleason, “From an Indefinite Homogeneity: Catholic Colleges in Antebellum America,” CHR, 94 (2008), 45–74; Codd, “The American College of Louvain,” CHR, 93 (2007), 47–83. 242. Reviewed in CHR, 97 (2011), 853–55. 243. Kathleen A. Mahoney, Catholic Higher Education in Protestant America: The Jesuits and Harvard in the Age of the University (Baltimore, 2003), reviewed in CHR, 92 (2006), 700– 701; Leslie Miller-Bernal and Susan L. Poulson, eds., Challenged by Coeducation: Women’s PHILIP GLEASON 217 The CHR carried only one article on spirituality/devotionalism,244 but several book-length works testified to increasing historical interest in this area of research. Two of the latter were collections of essays,245 but James P. McCartin’s Prayers of the Faithful advanced a general interpretation of shifts in American Catholic spirituality since the late nineteenth century while Joseph Dougherty’s From Altar-Throne to Table concentrated on the promotion of frequent Holy Communion, and Richard Gribble traced the development of the “Family Rosary” as a popular devotion.246 Nancy Lusignan Schultz investigated a different dimension of Catholic spirituality by revisiting the story of a miraculous cure of the 1820s.247 By the turn of the twenty-first century, the shifting American Catholic scene after the Second Vatican Council attracted increasing historical attention. Joseph Chinnici devoted his 2008 ACHA presidential address to a microanalysis of two lay Catholic groups in the San Francisco area, a project that led him to suggest that the Council did not so much change the Church as create an opening for the expression of preexisting tendencies and tensions.248 Two years later, however, Mark S. Massa assigned greater causative force to the Council in a book titled The American Catholic Revolution: How the Sixties Changed the Church Forever.249 In addition to these two general interpretations, a number of other works cast Colleges since the 1960s (Nashville, 2006), reviewed in CHR, 94 (2008), 612–14; Andreas Hetzenecker, Stephan Kuttner in Amerika 1940–1964: Grundlegung der modernen historisch-kanonistischen Forschung (Berlin, 2007), reviewed in CHR, 95 (2009), 420–21. 244. Jose Antonio Bandão and Michael Shakir Nassaney, “Suffering for Jesus: Penitential Practices at Fort St. Joseph (Niles, Michigan) during the French Regime,” CHR, 94 (2008), 476–99. 245. James M. O’Toole, ed., Habits of Devotion: Catholic Religious Practice in Twentieth-Century America, reviewed in CHR, 92 (2006), 702–04; Timothy Matovina and Gary Riebe-Estrella, eds., Horizons of the Sacred: Mexican Traditions in U.S. Catholicism (Ithaca, NY, 2002), seems not to have been reviewed by the CHR. 246. James P. McCartin, Prayers of the Faithful: The Shifting Spiritual Life of American Catholics, reviewed in CHR, 97 (2011), 609–11; Joseph Dougherty, From Altar-Throne to Table: The Campaign for Frequent Holy Communion in the Catholic Church (Lanham, MD, 2010), reviewed in CHR, 97 (2011), 750–51; Richard Gribble, American Apostle of the Family Rosary: The Life of Patrick J. Peyton (New York, 2005), reviewed in CHR, 92 (2006), 137–38. 247. Nancy Lusignan Schultz, Mrs. Mattingly’s Miracle: The Prince, the Widow and the Cure that Shocked Washington City (New Haven, 2011), reviewed in CHR, 98 (2012), 161–62. Thomas A. Tweed, America’s Church: The National Shrine and Catholic Presence in the Nation’s Capital (Oxford, 2011), seems not to have been reviewed in the CHR. 248. Joseph P. Chinnici, “An Historian’s Creed and the Emergence of Postconciliar Culture Wars,” CHR, 94 (2008), 219–44. See also Chinnici, “The Catholic Community at Prayer, 1926–1976,” in O’Toole, ed., Habits of Devotion, pp. 9–87, 237–59. 249. Reviewed in CHR, 97 (2011), 398–99. 218 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM light on more specialized dimensions of the post–Vatican II era. Thus Shawn Francis Peters published a history of the antiwar protest of “the Catonsville Nine”; John C. Seitz reported on resistance by the faithful to parish closures in the Archdiocese of Boston; and Thomas G. Welch undertook a close-grained analysis of the many factors affecting the decline of parochial schools in Youngstown, Ohio.250 Several biographical works bore on the changes of the period in question. One—a life of Dr. John Rock, who perfected “the pill” as a new method of birth control—received a relatively bland review.251 In other cases, it was clear from the tone of the reviews that the ideological differences of the Vatican II era were still very much alive.252 Overall, however, Catholic involvement in social reform activities continued to attract positive attention from historians. Robert Bauman contributed an article that featured two priests who spearheaded the Church’s role in the War on Poverty in the 1960s and ’70s, and Marco G. Prouty’s book on Cesar Chavez stressed the Church’s support for his struggle to improve the status of farm workers in the Southwest.253 Nor were earlier forms of social activism neglected: one book told the story of Catholic social settlements and day nurseries in Chicago, a second dealt with Catholic efforts to improve the lives of rural folk, while a third provided an overview of Catholic social thought from the 1930s to the 1960s.254 Kimball Baker’s “Go to the Worker”: America’s 250. Shawn Francis Peters, The Catonsville Nine: A Story of Faith and Resistance in the Vietnam Era (New York, 2012), reviewed in CHR, 99 (2013), 588–89. John C. Seitz, No Closure: Catholic Practice and Boston’s Parish Shutdowns (Cambridge, MA, 2011), reviewed in CHR, 98 (2012), 400–402; Thomas G. Welsh, Closing Chapters: Urban Change, Religious Reform, and the Decline of Youngstown’s Catholic Elementary Schools, 1960–2000 (Lanham, MD, 2012), reviewed in CHR, 98 (2012), 831–32. 251. Margaret Marsh and Wanda Ronner, The Fertility Doctor: John Rock and the Reproductive Revolution (Baltimore, 2008), reviewed in CHR, 95 (2009), 887–88. 252. See, in order of the increasingly critical tone of the reviews: John T. Donovan, Crusader in the Cold War: A Biography of Fr. John F. Cronin, S.S. (New York, 2005), reviewed in CHR, 93 (2007), 456–58; Raymond A. Schroth, Bob Drinan: The Controversial Life of the First Catholic Priest Elected to Congress (New York, 2011), reviewed in CHR, 97 (2011), 862– 64; and Steve Rosswurm, The FBI and the Catholic Church, 1935–1962 (Amherst, MA, 2009), reviewed in CHR, 97 (2011), 864–65. 253. Robert Bauman, “‘Kind of a Secular Sacrament’: Father Geno Baroni, Monsignor John J. Egan, and the Catholic War on Poverty,” CHR, 95 (2013), 298–317; Marco G. Prouty, César Chávez, the Catholic Bishops, and the Farmworkers’ Struggle for Social Justice (Tucson, 2006), reviewed in CHR, 95 (2009), 422–23. 254. Deborah A. Skok, More Than Neighbors: Catholic Settlements and Day Nurseries in Chicago (DeKalb, IL, 2007), reviewed in CHR, 95 (2009), 640–42; David S. Bovée, The Church and the Land: The National Catholic Rural Life Conference and American Society, 1923– 2007 (Washington, DC, 2010), reviewed in CHR, 97 (2011), 185–86; Craig Prentiss, PHILIP GLEASON 219 Labor Apostles surveyed the efforts of about a dozen activists, all but two of whom were priests; James T. Fisher’s On the Irish Waterfront: The Crusader, the Movie, and the Soul of the Port of New York showed how one “labor priest’s” campaign to clean up the New York docks intersected with ethnicity, urban politics, crime, and popular culture.255 The CHR published only one review of a book dealing with the issue of priestly sexual abuse, which surfaced as scattered and seemingly anomalous phenomena in the 1980s but built up over the next decade, exploding with the 2002 revelations published by the Boston Globe into “a public scandal that was shameful, heart-breaking, maddening, and disastrous, all at the same time.”256 The only historians of American Catholicism who tackled the unsavory story were writers of general histories. Thus Charles Morris dealt frankly with what was known in the 1990s in his American Catholic (1997); Patrick W. Carey and James M. O’Toole did the same with later developments in volumes titled Catholics in America and The Faithful, respectively, both of which were published in 2008.257 Both Carey’s and O’Toole’s works are of first-rate quality and deserve notice as the latest surveys of American Catholic history, as well as for their frankness in acknowledging the depth of the crisis brought on by clerical sexual abuse. Both are well written and based on thorough acquaintance with the original sources and the scholarly literature of the field. They differ, however, in the kind of overall approach they reflect. Carey’s book can be characterized as an up-to-date institutional history—that is, a traditionally conceived survey, compact but comprehensive in scope, that links the development of American Catholicism to shifts in the overall social and cultural scene. O’Toole’s history is, by contrast, a self-con- Debating God’s Economy: Social Justice in America on the Eve of Vatican II (University Park, PA, 2008), reviewed in CHR, 95 (2009), 891–93. 255. Baker, “Go to the Worker” (Milwaukee, 2010), reviewed in CHR, 98 (2012), 169– 70; Fisher, On the Irish Waterfront (Ithaca, NY, 2009), reviewed in CHR, 97 (2011), 186–87. 256. Quotation from James M. O’Toole, The Faithful: A History of Catholics in America (Cambridge, MA, 2008), p. 268. Nicholas P. Cafardi, Before Dallas: The U.S. Bishops’ Response to the Clergy Sexual Abuse of Children (Mahwah, NJ, 2008), reviewed in CHR, 97 (2011), 188–89, was found wanting by the CHR’s reviewer. 257. For reviews, none of which mention coverage of the sexual abuse crisis, see: CHR, 84 (1998), 579–81 (for Morris); CHR, 96 (2010), 168–69 (for Carey); and CHR, 95 (2009), 632–34 (for O’Toole). Jay P. Dolan, In Search of an American Catholicism (Oxford, 2002), pp. 257–59; and John T. McGreevy, Catholicism and American Freedom (New York, 2003), pp. 289–93, make brief mention of the crisis without attempting to incorporate it into the books they had just completed. 220 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM sciously “people of God” social history of American Catholicism. Its primary goal is to recover what Catholic life was like for “the faithful” in six chronological eras, to each of which a chapter is devoted, showing how the distinctive form of Catholicism of that era impinged on ordinary believers. This method allows O’Toole to treat most of the topics included in conventional surveys, but the difference in emphasis is most apparent in the attention he gives to the changing forms of devotionalism and spirituality over the course of American Catholic history. The two books beautifully complement each other. Taken together, Carey and O’Toole’s surveys are representative of the best of historical scholarship on American Catholicism a century after the first appearance of The Catholic Historical Review in 1915. Concluding Remarks Over that 100-year span, The Catholic Historical Review has published almost 1200 articles and more than 13,000 book reviews. Some 382 of those articles (roughly 30 percent of the total) dealt with the history of American Catholicism. Among the reviews, about 11 percent (just over 1500) were books about some phase of American Catholic history. These are impressive—indeed, almost stupefying—numbers, and the body of scholarship they represent constitutes a monumental contribution to the self-understanding of the American Catholic community. Although it is manifestly impossible to “summarize” that century-long record, I would like to offer a few concluding observations. The first has to do with the continuity of editorial direction from which the CHR has benefited. During its century of existence, the journal has had only five editors. The second of these, Patrick W. Browne, was, we may safely assume, guided in his task by the founding editor, Peter Guilday, who effectively supervised the CHR from 1915 to 1941. These two— along with later editors John Tracy Ellis, Robert Trisco, and Nelson H. Minnich—have all been located at The Catholic University of America, where the CHR is published, and which has also provided other forms of institutional support. All but the most recent editor, Minnich, have been priests and specialists in the history of American Catholicism. And all but Browne and Minnich combined their editorial duties with service as secretary of the American Catholic Historical Association. Guilday, who earned his doctorate at Louvain, was deeply committed to “scientific history”—the methodological approach that dominated the PHILIP GLEASON 221 discipline at the time. He stamped that understanding of historical scholarship upon the CHR, and its effects were, I believe, still discernible at midcentury in what might be called Ellis’s “ascetic” view of what was properly history, as opposed to commentary on topical issues. Guilday’s teaching and example likewise contributed significantly to the emphasis on episcopal biography, which—along with concentration on other “institutional” aspects of American Catholic history—has been lamented by more recent historians. However, that approach was quite in keeping with the ecclesiology of the period, and in Guilday’s case, at least, focusing attention on the leading bishops of successive eras represented an effort to synthesize the story of American Catholicism more effectively than was possible using the diocese-by-diocese approach employed by John Gilmary Shea. Though his approach to Catholic history was strongly internalist— that is, centered on developments in the Church itself—Guilday was keenly sensitive to the perils of Catholic “separatism,” not only in society generally but also in the world of historical scholarship. He was on friendly terms with leaders of the AHA in Washington; arranged meetings of the ACHA in conjunction with those of the AHA, and saw to it that significant books in general history were reviewed in the CHR. All of those practices continued throughout the history of the CHR. Others may read the record differently, but it seems to me that scholarship on the history of American Catholicism reached the “critical mass” stage in the middle decades of the twentieth century. That is, an activity earlier carried on by a relative handful of individual researchers began to take on the contours of area of historical scholarship that attracted increasing numbers of professionally competent practitioners whose findings generated new lines of inquiry and set in motion a process of self-sustaining historiographic growth. This development was related to the vast expansion of graduate education of the post–World War II years, and coincided with the emergence of “Americanism” and social reform as thematic emphases in the historiography of American Catholicism. The decisive phases of this development took place in the period of Ellis’s editorship and were affected by the complex of social and cultural forces at work in that era, as discussed above. Since then, American Catholic historiography has evolved along the same lines. That is, it continues to be affected by sustained growth in the number of—and by increasing diversity in the social and educational background of—scholars 222 THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF AMERICAN CATHOLICISM devoted to the field, and by the emergence of new lines of investigation, some internally generated by previous research and some stimulated by changes in larger social, cultural, and religious context within which historians of American Catholicism operate. Had he been able to foresee the scope and quality of historical work on American Catholicism that The Catholic Historical Review would publish in its first century of life, Peter Guilday’s “feelings of veneration” would surely have been mixed with justifiable pride—and with equally justifiable optimism about the good work it will continue to produce. BOOK REVIEWS 158 Indeed, this assumption is repeated in every chapter; speculation becomes fact, leading to some improbable conclusions. Although Smith repeatedly raises the important question of what connections exist between the texts in the manuscript and the secular images below them, her persistent linking of Eleanor to the images is unconvincing. She explains the scenes taken from the romances of Bevis of Hampton and Guy of Warwick (neither of which should be described as “cycles”) as appropriate to Eleanor, about to leave for a foreign land: the pictures of “quintessentially English knights” may have had “patriotic implications … [confirming] her sense of her own Englishness… a comforting reminder of home” (p. 77). A sweeping generalization asserts that “in most chivalric romances the objects of the heroes’ romantic aspirations are women of superior social station,” thus appropriate to Reinald and Eleanor. This ignores the fact that the Anglo-Norman Boeve (whom people in Edward’s court may have known as well or better than the hero of the later English romance) is neither “quintessentially English” nor “aspires” to his mistress; on the contrary she woos him, and he at first rejects her out of hand— princess or not, she is a pagan. The final image, of St. Christopher and the Christchild, is again forcibly yoked to Eleanor’s “journey across the sea to commence a new life in a foreign land.” Christopher is, of course, neither a traveler to a foreign land nor starting a new life (except in the spiritual sense). The whole book, including its bibliography, is full of deplorable typographical errors and inconsistencies. The most egregious examples are in chapter 2, where around page 75 text and notes confusingly stop corresponding, and chapter 4, with a repeated misreading of the Middle English ҏat 3onder stonde as stoned (pp. 255, 257). The many mistakes and the unconvincing arguments are an irritation in a book that often provides an interesting read. Robinson College Cambridge, United Kingdom JUDITH WEISS EARLY MODERN EUROPEAN The Catholicisms of Coutances: Varieties of Religion in Early Modern France, 1350– 1789. By J. Michael Hayden. [McGill-Queen’s Studies in the History of Religion. Series Two, Vol. 63.] (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press. 2013. Pp. xvi, 368. C$100.00. ISBN 978-0-7735-4113-9.) J. Michael Hayden has two objectives in this book. The first is to describe the complexity of religious beliefs and practices of men and women living in the Diocese of Coutances in western Normandy from 1350 to 1789. Hayden chose Coutances on the basis of the ample quantity of surviving sources, above all a long series of parish visitation reports and ordination records. To refer to beliefs and practices in their various forms, he speaks of “catholicisms,” a word intended to draw attention to the multiplicity as well as the blending of official and unofficial modes of belief. BOOK REVIEWS 159 After two initial chapters—one on the diocese’s geography and history and the conditions of life of its inhabitants and a second outlining the elements of “official” Catholicism and the hodgepodge of “unofficial” popular practices—Hayden turns to examining the catholicisms of individuals and groups across four centuries. He devotes chapters to the bishops, the clerical elite, men and women living in religious orders, the parish clergy, and the laity. These five chapters are the heart of the book, and the result is a top-to-bottom, richly detailed picture of what people believed and did as Catholic Christians. An eighth chapter looks at the beliefs and practices of Protestants in the diocese as well as “deists,” a term used to designate individuals whose exposure to Enlightenment ideas led them to reject official Catholic teaching. In the light of the extensive description that Hayden gives to Catholic belief and practice, this discussion of “other catholicisms” in Coutances is somewhat underwhelming. Deism seems to have attracted few adherents, and he is not able to do much more beyond offering some generalizations. Protestants, on the other hand, were prominent in the diocese. However, whereas Hayden is keen to show the diversity of beliefs and practices that existed within early-modern French Catholicism, he treats Protestants as an undifferentiated block of believers. Hayden’s second objective is to account for present-day patterns of Mass attendance across the diocese. He proposes that patterns of religious observance in the twentieth century are by and large the same as they were in the early-eighteenth century. In the absence of records of Mass attendance for the Old Regime, Hayden uses rates of clerical vocation to establish the level of Catholic practice in a parish. He assembles a wealth of quantitative data to support his claim that areas that have high rates of Mass attendance today had high numbers of men seeking religious vocations in the first third of the eighteenth century. In this way, Hayden challenges Timothy Tackett’s argument that twentieth-century patterns of religious practice can be traced back to the choice made by parish priests to swear (or not) the oath required by the Civil Constitution of the Clergy. In the Diocese of Coutances, at least, levels of Catholic practice were in place a full half-century before the Revolution. It must be said, however, that this argument could be more effectively made. Much of the evidence that Hayden uses to build his case appears in five appendixes, but he does not offer readers much guidance for making sense of the numbers. Nevertheless, historians interested in developments in religion across the centuries will want to consider this book’s methodology. Boston University SCOTT M. MARR La congiura dei Pazzi: I documenti del conflitto fra Lorenzo de’ Medici e Sisto IV. Le bolle di scomunica, la “Florentina synodus,” e la “Dissentio” insorta tra la Santità del Papa e i Fiorentini. Edizione critica e commento. Edited by Tobias Daniels. [Studi di Storia e Documentazione Storica.] (Florence: EDIFIR Edizioni Firenze. 2013. Pp. 206. €18,00 paperback. ISBN 978-88-7970-649-0.) “The pen is mightier than the sword.” So spoke Cardinal Richelieu’s character in Edward Bulwer Lytton’s popular 1839 play Richelieu; Or the Conspiracy. The playwright could just as easily have written that line about the hostile propaganda cam- 160 BOOK REVIEWS paigns launched between Pope Sixtus IV and the Florentines that erupted following the Pazzi Conspiracy. Tobias Daniels’s critical edition and comment brings together for the first time Sixtus IV’s three bulls of excommunication against Lorenzo de’ Medici and his Florentine supporters; the Florentina Synodus, a Florentine defense against them written by Gentile Becchi; and a further little-known papal response, the Dissentio. The latter, aimed to arouse anti-Medici feeling at the imperial court in Germany, was apparently not widely circulated in Italy. The most famous document associated with the Pazzi Conspiracy, Angelo Poliziano’s defense of Lorenzo and condemnation of the Pazzi in his Coniurationis commentarium, is not included in this collection. The second half of the volume contains the documents in their original Latin. Daniels’s meticulous editing records numerous variations in manuscript and incunabular versions of the texts, and he provides erudite notes on persons and events referenced. Close editing is labor-intensive and commendable work, as is the assemblage of the texts themselves. Placed side-by-side, they demonstrate that the exchange of invective reached beyond personal animosities between Sixtus IV and Lorenzo. Rather, it had wider ecclesiastical and European import when viewed in the context of the grander fifteenth-century contests between papal and conciliar authority in which swirled many a war of words. Becchi crafted the Florentine Synodus for Lorenzo to use in drumming up interest, especially at the court of French king Louis XI, for summoning a church council to depose the pope for immoral conduct and abuse of authority. On the other side, in the bulls and Dissentio, Sixtus IV and his secretaries sought to arose support for the expulsion of Lorenzo as unjust tyrant of Florence and for disrespect of the Church. The historical introduction in the first half of the volume leaves one uneasy on several counts for its lacunae and unsubstantiated attributions. The author perememptorily excludes discussing the political implications in the Pazzi Conspiracy regarding the roles of King Ferrante of Naples and Federigo da Montefeltro, duke of Urbino. The latter served as condottiere in papal hire and, according to the most recent scholarship by Marcello Simonetta, was certainly implicated in the antiMedici plot. Strangely, Simonetta’s work (New York, 2008) remains unacknowledged by the author. Yet at the same time, Daniels goes into excruiating detail on other aspects of the Pazzi Conspiracy, most of it derived from the many publications of Riccardo Fubini, author of the preface. In his treatment of the Synodus, Daniels ignores Simonetta’s 2012 edition and commentary, which he dismisses with the erroneous statement that it had been based on a later printed edition by Fabroni rather than an autograph manuscript in the Florentine state archive. For another example, when discussing Giovanni Caroli’s dissent from the Florentines’ call for a church council (pp. 76–78), Daniels makes no mention, even in a footnote, of recent scholarship on the Dominican friar and his views on the Medici. The massive bibliography at the volume’s end obscures these and other lacunae. Daniels’s work is useful but oddly skewed. University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill MELISSA MERIAM BULLARD BOOK REVIEWS 161 Die Konfessionalisierungparadigma: Leistungen, Probleme, Grenzen. Edited by Thomas Brockmann and Dieter J. Weiss. [Bayreuther Historische Kolloquien, Band 18.] (Münster: Aschendorff Verlag, 2013. Pp. vii, 300. €29,80 paperback. ISBN 978-3-402-12923-4.) This edited volume assembles fourteen articles based on papers presented at a 2008 conference held at the University of Bayreuth. The occasion was a celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of the publication of a very influential article by Ernst Walter Zeeden on Konfessionsbildung—that is, the “construction of confessions.” That article led, several decades later, to the development of the “confessionalization paradigm” associated most prominently with Wolfgang Reinhard and Heinz Schilling. The publication in this collection of articles originally presented five years ago gives the collection a bit of a dated feel, and the articles from fourteen German scholars and one American (one article is coauthored) cover little new ground in what has become a tired debate over confessionalization. The introductory article by the editors provides a useful overview of the confessionalization paradigm and its critics. Critics have argued that confessionalization has overemphasized the role of the state in creating confessional cultures, while underplaying religious and spiritual motivations. Another critique is that the paradigm (or “thesis”) does not account properly for the specific theologies, practices, and traditions of the different Christian confessions. Reformation scholars complain that a focus on confessionalization, which took place after 1550, ignores the importance of the religious revolution set in motion by Martin Luther. None of this is new here, but the article lays the issues out clearly. Several of the articles in the collection take up one or more of these critiques. Some of the articles are quite traditional in structure and argument. Dieter Weiss’s article about Bamberg argues that traditional practices, in this case the Corpus Christi procession, continued to dominate in Catholicism, despite Tridentine reforms. Wolfgang Brückner, the dean of the religious folklorist (Volkskündler), presses the critique that confessionalization does not effectively account for popular pious practices, many of which developed organically. The article makes interesting comparisons between Lutheran and Catholic practices, but is marred by an unnecessarily polemical style. Some of the articles by younger and mid-career scholars are more valuable, providing new perspectives and attempting to move beyond older debates. Andreas Holzem’s elegantly written, densely argued, and clearly organized article on the development of confessional cultures argues that the scholarship on confessionalization has developed a certain “self-correcting” character that has allowed the strengths of the paradigm to encourage valuable research. Holzem pleads for a cultural and religious history of confessionalization, one that will emphasize the experience of ordinary people, rather than the actions of church and state. An interesting diagram (p. 160) aims at conceptualizing the interplay of social discipline, confessionalization, and the communal/local world (Lebenswelt). Here we see a real effort to move the historical analysis of early-modern religion in new directions. 162 BOOK REVIEWS A final area of focus in this volume is provided by a number of articles that examine the value of the confessionalization paradigm outside of Germany. Josef Schmid looks at “royal religion” in Scandinavia, France, and England; Thomas Niclas examines France in the Wars of Religion; and Ludolf Pelizaeus presents the case of Spain and its worldwide empire. All these cases present challenges to the paradigm while, in this reviewer’s view, making only weak cases that the concepts borrowed from confessionalization improve our understanding of developments in these countries. Overall, this collection reinforces the sense that the debate over confessionalization has run its course, and the new and innovative scholarship is moving in a different direction, in search of religious experience and religious culture. These are perhaps not strikingly new perspectives for scholars of France, England, and Italy, but they are new in early-modern German history. Connecticut College New London, CT MARC R. FORSTER Imperator et Pontifex: Forschungen zum Verhältnis von Kaiserhof und römischer Kurie im Zeitalter der Konfessionalisierung (1555–1648). By Alexander Koller. [Geschichte in der Epoche Karls V., Band 13.] (Münster: Aschendorff Verlag. 2012. Pp. x, 494. €69,00 paperback. ISBN 978-3-402-13994-3.) Alexander Koller, the longtime acting director of the German Historical Institute in Rome, has become the leading scholar of papal-imperial relations during the early-modern period, more specifically between the Peace of Augsburg (1555) and the Peace of Westphalia (1648). This valuable volume is made up of twenty-four of his articles or lectures, some of which have been published in relatively obscure periodicals and are now made available to a wider readership. They show the importance of the papacy with its twofold nature as both a religious and a secular institution for the international relations of the period as well as for the Catholic Reform and the Counter-Reformation even as its influence diminished toward the end of the period. Koller draws on a wide variety of sources but especially on the nunciature reports and above all on the Hauptinstruktionen (or Le istruzioni generali) published in outstanding editions since 1995 for the papacies of Clement VIII (1592–1605), Paul V (1605–21), and Gregory XV (1621–23). These are the detailed instructions drawn up for a nuncio at the start of his tenure describing the policies and procedures that he was to follow. Those for Urban VIII (1623– 44) are now in preparation. But to acquire a complete picture of papal policy one must also consult the regular nunciature reports, for it is there that one sees the application of general principles to particular situations. Koller’s articles and lectures are organized into three parts: “Emperor and Pope,” “Rome and the Habsburg Hereditary Lands,” and “The Papal Nuncios in the Empire.” Space permits the mention of only several of the author’s articles. In the first part, in “Was the Pope a Militant, Warmongering Catholic Monarch?”, Koller asks BOOK REVIEWS 163 whether the pope encouraged military means to defeat the Protestants and so contributed to a religious fundamentalism. Koller contends that this was not the case certainly after the start of the papacy of Clement VIII in 1592, except for the brief, if significant, pontificate of Gregory XV from 1621–23. Over the objections of Spain, Clement absolved Henry IV of France, quietly accepted the Edict of Nantes, and mediated the Peace of Vervins between Spain and France in 1598. One might add that he was more concerned with the advance of the Turks during the Long Turkish War (1593–1606). Both Paul V and Urban VIII (1623–44) were slow to respond to the cries for financial assistance from the German Catholic princes. Koller cites two reasons for papal reluctance to take a more militant stance toward the Protestants: their responsibility as a secular ruler and their desire to advance the fortunes of their families. In “‘Quam bene pavit apes, tam male pavit oves.’ Urban VIII and the Criticism of his Pontificate,” Koller, after weighing the pros and cons of Urban’s papacy, agrees with the contemporary ditty about Urban: “As well as he looked after the bees [the symbol of the Barberini], so badly did he look after the sheep.” So Koller agrees with most current scholarship that Urban subordinated the welfare of the Church to the advancement of his family. The role of Fabio Chigi, the future Pope Alexander VII, at the Treaty of Westphalia is the topic of “Fabio Chigi as Papal Mediator at Münster.” Recent popes, including Urban VIII, had considered themselves to be the “padre comune” who mediated disputes between Christian states. But the papal refusal to allow its representatives to deal directly with heretics prohibited Chigi from negotiating with Protestants and so greatly minimized his role at the conference. But his protests against the terms of the treaty as well as the formal protest of Pope Innocent X in 1650 did not completely remove the popes from international affairs as is often maintained. Koller also relates interesting comments of Chigi in his diary about life in Münster. The first three articles of part 2 discuss the situation of the Bohemian lands, the two Lusatias, and Hungary as reflected in the instructions and in the nunciature reports, and the last one describes the problems caused by the transfer of so many Italian members of religious orders to work in the German lands. Articles in part 3 then look at the principal qualities sought in the ideal nuncio—“prudence, zeal, and talent”—and find the prototype in Bartolomeo Portia, a protégé of St. Charles Borromeo, who traversed much of Catholic Germany starting in 1573 and died in Prague in 1578. Koller also discusses here the development of the system of nunciatures in the sixteenth century and especially the impact of the Council of Trent on it. Henceforth nuncios would be bishops and have church reform as a leading priority while continuing to serve the political interests of the Papal States and the Church. The many important publications of the German Historical Institute in Rome deserve to be better known to historians of early-modern Europe in the Englishspeaking world. Loyola University Chicago ROBERT BIRELEY, S.J. 164 BOOK REVIEWS Aneignungen des Humanismus: Institutionelle und individuelle Praktiken an der Universität Ingolstadt im 15. Jahrhundert. By Maximilian Schuh. [Education and Society in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, Vol. 47.] (Boston: Brill. 2013. Pp. xiv, 286. $140.00. ISBN 978-9-004-23095-8.) In this careful and nuanced study Maximilian Schuh documents the dissemination and appropriation of humanism within the faculty of arts at the University of Ingolstadt during the last quarter of the fifteenth century. Deliberately eschewing the traditional focus on Conrad Celtis, the so-called German arch-humanist, Schuh instead looks to the individual university teachers and students who appropriated elements of the humanist agenda without fully abandoning established medieval texts and approaches. Thus, Schuh argues, despite the rhetoric of Conrad Celtis and his circle, the most consequential appropriations of humanistic ideas occurred, not within narrow humanist sodalities, but within the framework of the faculty of arts. Schuh’s approach owes much to the influence of Michel de Certeau, whose conception of appropriation (Aneignung) he clearly references in the title of the work. As Schuh demonstrates through painstaking analysis of surviving manuscripts and library catalogs, the ideals and methods developed within the context of Italian humanists’ circles were not simply transplanted across the Alps unchanged. Rather, individuals appropriated and employed elements of the humanist agenda in ways that reflected the structures, political context, and economics of Ingolstadt, as well as the desires, aesthetics, and traditions of its students and faculty members. In this way, Schuh grounds his history of humanist ideas in the specificities of time and place. Perhaps most important, Schuh shows that the introduction of humanism was not driven by a narrow elite, but reflected the interests of individuals across the university spectrum, including those on the lowest levels of the academic hierarchy. Schuh divides his study into five chapters of radically disparate lengths. The first chapter surveys the secondary literature and surviving sources. The second chapter describes the curriculum of the University of Ingolstadt, its institutional structures, and the status of poetry and rhetoric within the institution. In this chapter, Schuh demonstrates that formal instruction in rhetoric and poetry remained on the margins of Ingolstadt’s university structure, noting, for example, that the lecturer initially lacked a guaranteed income and even access to the arts faculty library. Schuh argues that by overlooking this marginality, historians have often overemphasized the role played by these first formal lectures in the transmission of humanist ideas at the University of Ingolstadt. The next two chapters, which constitute the heart of the work, lay out the institutional and individual appropriations of humanism at the University of Ingolstadt. Particularly impressive is Schuh’s meticulous examination of surviving manuscripts and library catalogs. From these sources, Schuh extracts substantial evidence of faculty and student engagement with humanist ideas, texts, and approaches, including the use of humanist grammars and a growing interest in classical authors and style. In a particularly innovative section, Schuh examines shifts toward a more classical orthography and the BOOK REVIEWS 165 increasing appropriation of elements of humanist script. Interestingly, Schuh argues that this appropriation was mediated primarily through humanist-inspired printed works, rather than direct contact with Italian humanist manuscripts. The final, perhaps overly brief, chapter sums up the major conclusions of the work. Taken together, Schuh’s findings represent a major contribution to the history of the University of Ingolstadt and provide new insights into the process by which humanist ideas spread north of the Alps. By shifting the focus from a small number of intellectual elites to the much broader category of ordinary arts students, and by emphasizing adaptation and appropriation rather than wholesale adoption, Schuh provides a context for the curricular reform movements and debates that roiled the intellectual waters of the sixteenth century. University of North Florida DAVID SHEFFLER Egidio da Viterbo: Cardinale Agostiniano tra Roma e l’Europa del Rinascimento: Atti del Convegno, Viterbo, 22–23 settembre 2012—Roma, 26–28 settembre 2012. Edited by Myriam Chiabò, Rocco Ronzani, and Angelo Maria Vitale. (Rome: Centro Culturale Agostiniano Roma nel Rinascimento. 2014. Pp. xv, 484. €50,00 paperback. ISBN 978-88-85913-83-7.) Egidio da Viterbo, or Giles of Viterbo (d. 1527), was an Augustinian friar— eventually Prior General of his order, a theologian, reformer, and cardinal. His intellectual interests included not just theology but mythology and the Cabala. In the English-speaking world, Giles is best known for his 1507 oration before Pope Julius II, expressing hope that a new age was dawning. He also gave the opening oration in 1512 at the Fifth Lateran Council, which attempted to reform the Church. This collection, based on a 2012 conference, addresses these and other aspects of Giles’s life and thought. The papers fall into rough thematic groups. Some are quite brief, but others are very substantive. Following an overview of Italy and Europe in Giles’s time (Laura Ronchi De Michelis), the first group (Anna Esposito, Mario Mattei, Luciano Osbat, Mauro Papalini, and Jurai Batelja) targets Viterbo and Giles’s life in the order, including his love of solitude, as well as the role of the order in Croatia, then falling under Turkish rule. This group is somewhat miscellaneous, but it makes use of Giles’s surviving correspondence. The second group (Gennaro Savarese, Daniel Nodes, Daniela Ciammetti, and John Monfasani) is more coherent, focusing on Giles’s commentary on the Sentences of Peter Lombard ad mentem Platonis. The Augustinian composed this extensive work using both Christian and non-Christian sources, employing classical and mythological motifs. This was true even in the Augustinian’s exposition of the doctrine of the Holy Spirit (Nodes). This was true, too, of Giles’s writing on divine transcendence (Ciammetti) and his critique of Aristotle (Monfasani). Sincero Mantelli’s article on the Fathers of the Church in Giles’s works can be read in this connection as well. 166 BOOK REVIEWS The third group (Norman Tanner, Anna Modigliani, Filippo Lovison, Nelson H. Minnich, and Gianluca Pilara) focuses on the Lateran Council and Rome in that time. Tanner provides an overall framework for the council. Minnich provides an extensive discussion of the council’s attempted reforms, including the efforts of Giles and the Dominican Master General Tommaso de Vio Cajetan to defend the mendicant orders against attacks by the bishops, an effort in which they were partially successful. The other studies focus more on the city than on the council. The next section (Margherita Palumbo, Angelo Maria Vitale, Ingrid Rowland, Francesco Tateo, Marc Deramaix, Claudia Corfiati, and Sebastiano Valerio) focuses on Giles’s bibliophilia, lesser works, and influence on later writers. Among the latter are Girolamo Seripando, a fellow Augustinian, and the heretic Giordano Bruno (Vitale and Rowland respectively). Of the lesser works, the De aurea aetate is the best known, and Tateo gives a rhetorical analysis of it. The Sirenum vox and other literary pieces, including the bucolic poems, are less known, but Deramaix and Corfiati make them better understood. The final section, supplemented with nine color figures illustrating paintings and architectural remains, focuses on Giles and the arts. Meredith Gill revisits Raphael’s Stanze. Giles was thought to be a theological adviser on this project. Gill looks especially at the figure of St. Augustine in the Disputa (Theology), which may be modeled on Giles himself. Chiara Di Vita’s contribution takes us outside Rome, Giles patronized building efforts with classicizing elements in Viterbo and Monte Cimino, where the Augustinian convent survives only in ruins. Rutgers University THOMAS M. IZBICKI Hopes for Better Spouses: Protestant Marriage and Church Renewal in Early Modern Europe, India, and North America. By A. G. Roeber. (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing. 2013. Pp. xxviii, 289. $29.00 paperback. ISBN 978-0-8028-6861-9.) The focus of this book is the development, attempted implementation, and failed legacy of a Pietist concept of companionate marriage. As is well known, the Reformation simultaneously descramentalized matrimony and elevated it to the ideal state for all Christians. Roeber devotes the first third of the book to describing the gradual and controversial emergence of a new (modern) notion of marriage as a spiritual partnership, despite the lingering reservations of Martin Luther and other Protestant theologians about the carnal aspect of the union, itself still often conceived as a remedy to lustful urges. The most innovative aspect of this brisk survey is a suggested influence of German mysticism on the thinking of early Lutherans in this respect—an interesting thesis that remains largely undeveloped. Roeber then moves to Philipp Jakob Spener, August Hermann Francke, and the other early Pietists of the late-seventeenth century, for whom the orderly and social disciplinary aspects of marriage remained foremost (despite Francke’s own appar- BOOK REVIEWS 167 ently warm and companionate union). The greatest theological barrier to full endorsement of a quasi-sacramental status for marriage was less patriarchy per se (which undoubtedly played a role) than mainstream Pietists’ unwillingness to acknowledge sufficient divine grace after the Fall as the basis for a divine union. Some outliers, such as the admittedly obscure Christian Thomasius, argued that the divine spark in fact drove all humans to seek out marriage, but this remained a minority position until Nikolaus Ludwig Zinzendorf and the Moravians. After a chapter on the encounters of some Pietist missionaries with Tamil polygamy, Roeber returns to Europe to discuss a genuinely radical departure from Lutheran tradition. For the Unitas Fratrum—a relatively small group of at most 10,000—not only marriage but human coitus itself was considered sacramental. Although acknowledging the importance of communal concerns (and thus arranged marriages), Moravian Pietists celebrated the divine friendship of a man and a woman, with sexual consummation considered the anointment of the Holy Spirit. Not fulfilling one’s sexual obligations was treated as desertion (and thus grounds for divorce) and not just Christ’s naked body but his circumcised penis were ritually venerated. The final third of the book then travels to North America, where the Pietist ideal of a companionate marriage (still far from established) confronts interracial, cross-confessional, and common-law marriages. Here, too, the text moves quickly, explaining that the language of partnership fared better in the long run than the notion of grace in the marital union. In an epilogue Roeber concludes with the “foundering of hopes for better spouses” (p. 241) during the modern era, a tepid coda for an ideal that rarely took root to begin with. Roeber is at his best in his lucid and empathetic portraits of Pietist missionaries, displaying both his archival prowess and obviously deep erudition. He is also particularly illuminating in his detailed descriptions of intra-Pietist controversies, again drawing on both correspondence and theological sources. The central frustration of the book is its lack of focus. This might perhaps have been expected, given the sprawling (and not particularly useful) title itself. The book’s overall narrative and structure—as suggested above—also lack the coherence necessary for any compelling thesis to stand out. Even within chapters the author’s attention frequently meanders, such as the chapter on North America, which begins with the experiences of some Pietist missionaries, then discusses the theology of grace, German immigrants and colonial litigation, marriage patterns among these individuals, the sermons of one pastor, and finally family registers and illustrated broadsheets. A reader attracted to this kind of scrapbook approach will certainly find several fascinating vignettes and information, but a reader seeking a deeper, broader, and sustained discussion of the ideal of companionate marriage among early-modern Protestants must look elsewhere. Vanderbilt University JOEL F. HARRINGTON 168 BOOK REVIEWS A Lutheran Plague. Murdering to Die in the Eighteenth Century. By Tyge Krogh. [Studies in Central European Histories, Vol. 55.] (Boston: Brill. 2012. Pp. x, 226. ISBN 978-90-94-22115-4.) This fascinating study attempts the impossible: reading and interpreting the inner thoughts of a relatively small group of people distinguished by aberrant behavior on the basis of that behavior and often of their own testimony. Nonetheless, the author constructs a plausible case for religiously motivated murders by pious individuals who feared hell if they committed suicide, for which no repentance was possible, but who despaired of life and instigated their own deaths by the inevitable execution that would follow their committing murder. Tyge Krogh focuses on suicide-murders in Denmark but cites literature on similar crimes in Stockholm and Hamburg; evidence from Catholic, Reformed, and other Lutheran territories, as well as England, is sketchier. The phenomenon seems to be associated with the rise of “Pietism,” although recent scholarship shows that many characteristics of Lutheran “Pietism” had been present since the later sixteenth and early-seventeenth centuries. Since all European Christians of the time condemned suicide, the specific elements of the Pietist attitude toward taking one’s own life need to be placed in that larger context. These perpetrators who made themselves victims of the executioner’s sword were mostly victims previously, largely younger woman of lower economic/social status, although male soldiers and prisoners also resorted to murder to remove themselves from difficult situations. The former murdered children, almost exclusively, occasionally perhaps to get revenge on a tyrannous master or mistress, but perhaps more because of their vulnerability. No research tools enable us to ascertain why children were singled out as victims. The fact that these cases often produced printed ballads recounting the stories of the murderers, offering a sort of fame, even at high price, may also have played a role. Krogh outlines how “Pietists” in Denmark used publications for the pastoral care of the population; by 1740, accounts of the confessions of murderers had become a part of popular devotional reading. The ballads often reflected the confessions of the condemned and reveal their turn to Christ after the crime. Court records disclose the murderers’ discouragement before the crime, their fear of hell should they commit suicide, and the comfort they had received from pastoral care awaiting execution. Closer analysis of theological and popular religious literature reviewed here could have enhanced this study though the very small group under study limits the validity of any conclusions. Since penitential practice is what is at the center of the problem under study, a chapter on the particulars in the several European confessions would have illuminated just what factors distinguish the Danish context. Comparisons with testimonies from actual suicide attempts that failed would perhaps divulge more about the interplay of the perceptions of faith with the actions even of those suffering from despair. Krogh does offer some theological analysis of the situation, too often without documenting his claims. That weakens this analysis since at points it suggests more BOOK REVIEWS 169 a repetition of common modern misimpressions about early-modern European Christianity than a source-based command of the period (e.g., a brief treatment of “the soteriology of the medieval and Catholic church” [pp. 116–20]). That does not diminish helpful observations, however, such as the impression that “the Lutheran church was more engaged than the other confessions in the clerical preparation of the prisoners sentenced to death” (p. 115). Krogh’s attempt to demonstrate how popular piety intersects with criminal justice and marginal, troubled lives in the early-modern period may raise as many questions as it answers, but it is a commendable, helpful venture into the difficult terrain of motivation and mind-set in belief systems of the past. Krogh and others will, this reviewer hopes, deepen and broaden research that addresses such questions. Concordia Seminary, Saint Louis ROBERT KOLB LATE MODERN EUROPEAN Katholischer Historismus? Zum historischen Denken in der deutschsprachigen Kirchengeschichte um 1900. Heinrich Schrörs – Albert Ehrhard – Joseph Schnitzer. By Gregor Klapczynski. (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer Verlag. 2013. Pp. 472. €69,90 paperback. ISBN 978-3-17-023426-0.) Nineteenth-century German Catholic scholars could hardly disengage themselves from what Ernest Troeltsch referred to as the crisis generated by critical historical studies: Die Krisis des Historismus. For Troeltsch, the issue was, in no small part, how in the flux and flow of history one can establish normative values to direct one’s life. But the broader issue on how to interpret history was a matter of significant importance and probed how history, truth, and value are related. Gregor Klapczynski’s book is a slightly revised version of his 2012 dissertation at the Catholic Faculty of the Westfälische Wilhelms-Universität in Münster. He pursues this question among Roman Catholic historians: how can one understand and professionally pursue church history as an academic discipline, and can one do so without placing absolute claims of the content of tradition or doctrine, still neoScholastic in form, at risk? His strategy is to present three notable Catholic theologians—Heinrich Schrörs (1852–1928), Albert Erhard (1862–1940), and Joseph Schnitzer (1859–1939)—considered to represent three positions in late-nineteenth-century Catholic thought in relation to what was perceived to be relativism. Klapczynski has provided criteria for his choices from a large field of otherwise excellent candidates: each of the three was attentive to both the theory and praxis of historical research; represents the right, center, or left of a spectrum that runs from conservative to modernist, i.e., relativist; was investigated by church officials for modernist impulses; and left a pool of sources adequate for substantive analysis. Chapter 1 sketches, in the context of the political and social changes that mark the period, the evolution of philosophies of history, from organic-idealist concep- 170 BOOK REVIEWS tions at the outset (à la Wilhelm von Humboldt and Leopold von Ranke, but also Johann Sebastian von Drey and Johann Möhler), to scientific-objective-realist aspirations by century’s end. Chapters 2, 3, and 4 dedicate roughly equivalent amounts of space to the three figures, outlining their Lebenslauf, academic contributions, philosophies of history, intellectual interlocutors, and brushes with church authorities (only Schnitzer is excommunicated, primarily for a booklet challenging the divine origins of the papacy). Chapter 5 draws the author’s conclusion: as theologians, Schrörs, Erhard, and Schnitzer initially shared the neo-Scholastic assumptions that shaped most Catholic theological scholarship of the period; as historians, they aspired to combine normative Catholic theology and philosophy with the historical thought of the period by way of an organic-ideal-realist model that, Klapczynski argues, was espoused by Pope Leo XIII himself. But there are differences among the three. Schrörs affirms the compatibility of the absolute claims of the tradition with historical criticism, but without providing a coherent integration, follows the approach outlined by Tuas Libenter, becomes entangled in neo-Scholastic interschool controversies, but is never sanctioned. Erhard goes beyond Schörs, developing, with scholastic philosophical epistemology, a theory of forms and grounding a history of culture in a Christocentric incarnational model. Humanistic longings for the good, the true, and the beautiful, as well as the religious aspirations for God can, in principle, be distinguished, but in the concrete order remain inseparable. Despite his refusal to take the antimodernist oath, Erhard escapes formal condemnation and, in Klapczynski’s expression, is fully, like Schrörs, an “antimodernist modern.” Over the years Schnitzer grew less satisfied with neo-Scholastic solutions to the problem of history. He was first attracted to the Reform Catholic aspirations of the Würzburg theologian Herman Schell, who nevertheless remained a modern Scholastic, and was impressed by the development model of dogma espoused by Blessed John Henry Newman, but was eventually drawn to the historical-critical methods of Alfred Loisy, whom he highly admired. According to Klapczynski, Schnitzer espoused a modern historical realism, much like Troeltsch: criteria of judgment come not from theology or philosophy, but emerge from history itself. The book is packed with information, the treatment of the three figures subtle and nuanced, making a summary next to impossible, even raising questions whether the typology provided by Klapczynski might be too blunt to do justice to the evidence he himself has unearthed. Valuable are the seventy pages of bibliography, forty-four of which are sources of the three historians treated. The text is a challenge to work through, but is a rich, valuable, and needed discussion of the period. Jesuit School of Theology Berkeley, CA GEORGE GRIENER, S.J. BOOK REVIEWS 171 Chiesa cattolica e minoranze in Italia nella prima metà del novecento: Il caso Veneto a confronto. Edited by Raffaella Perin. [I libri di Viella, 122.] (Rome: Viella. 2011. Pp. 230. €32,00 paperback. ISBN 978-88-8334-630-9.) With antisemitism in Italy on the rise, any new research about this intractable problem is welcome. In their study of the Church’s response to minority groups in Italy from 1900 to 1950, Rafaella Perin and her fellow authors present important information about the country’s Protestants and Masons, but the Jewish problem dominates the book. In general, the authors criticize the Church for its antagonistic relations with Italian Jews. Yet the Church’s relentless, almost obsessive, centuries-long compulsion in Italy to convert the Jews illustrates a key difference between what the authors in this anthology call anti-Jewishness and antisemitism. Anti-Jewishness involves an antipathy toward Jewish culture, particularly its tribalism. The Catholic version of anti-Jewishness allows hope for the Jews, if only they can see Christ. Antisemites see no hope for them. They are fated by blood to be what they are: the cause of everything that is wrong in the world. It requires a complete lapse of faith and a repudiation of Christ himself for a Catholic to become an antisemite. The ethnicity of Jesus is an insurmountable problem for a would-be Catholic antisemite who retains any understanding at all about the faith. The Church opposed the racism of the Fascists when, influenced by the Nazi regime, they promulgated the racial laws of 1938. Cardinal Alfredo Ildefonso Schuster, archbishop of Milan, publicly attacked Nazi antisemitism as a flagrantly anti-Christian heresy. Jews historically came under implacable criticism from the Church, however, not for the taint of their blood, but for their perceived clannish obstinacy in rejecting the Gospel of the Church Universal. The authors of this collection draw mainly on the diocesan literature of the period from the Veneto, in the northeastern part of the country, for their arguments about the Church’s perception of Jews, Protestants, and Masons as the country’s archetypal anti-Catholics. These three groups formed a de facto alliance, later joined by socialists and communists, engaging in what Catholic authors believed to be a relentless struggle to harm the Church, to ridicule its traditionalist beliefs, and to banish it from the public sphere. In the Italian Catholic mind, the Protestant Reformation bore primary responsibility for undermining the unity of Western Christendom. Martin Luther would not be alone, Catholics charged, in rebelling against the moral guardian of Western civilization in Rome. For the Church, the Protestant Reformation had set in motion a historical dialectic of civilization-disorienting falsehoods leading inevitably to the moral confusion and desolation of modern times. The Church viewed the Risorgimento in the long historical context of antiChurch subversion dating back to the Protestant Reformation. Protestants, Masons, and Jews led the nineteenth-century struggle for Italian unification, which 172 BOOK REVIEWS triumphed at the expense of the Church. Throughout the post-Risorgimento period, Catholic writers denounced these minorities for having created an antiCatholic nation-state and for then continuing a relentless campaign to bring about the final defeat of the Church. The authors do not set for themselves the task of documenting the activities of Italy’s Jews, Protestants, and Masons. They limit their inquiry to an analysis of the Church’s response to the threats that it perceived itself to be facing. They make it plain that in their opinion the Church, lacking an ecumenical outlook at this time, misperceived its actual situation. To do their subject full justice, however, they would have to provide a similarly cold look at the Church’s adversaries, whose own passive portrayal in the book seems underdrawn. University of Montana RICHARD DRAKE Priest, Politician, Collaborator: Jozef Tiso and the Making of Fascist Slovakia. By James Mace Ward. (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. 2013. Pp. xiv, 362. $39.95. ISBN 978-0-8014-4988-8.) For a Catholic historian, a consideration of the career of Father Jozef Tiso poses an exceptional challenge. Able, intelligent, devoted to his clerical duties (he continued to minister to his parishioners even after his appointment as president and “leader” of the wartime Slovak state), Tiso is one of the rare cases of a serving priest who became the leader of his country. He should, therefore, have been an exemplary figure in the Church’s struggle to respond to the rise of socialism, atheism, unfettered capitalism, and the secularization of modern society by a re-engagement with society. As the author of this superb biography makes clear, however, Tiso perverted this struggle with his chauvinistic nationalism, his own (dubious) interpretations of Catholic theology, and the relentless pursuit of political power. He established a quasi-totalitarian regime with fascist characteristics, collaborated with Nazi Germany, expelled the bulk of Slovak Jewry to its slaughter, and brought lasting shame on the Church and Slovak Catholic nationalism. Some Slovak Catholic historians have always found this verdict impossible to accept. Émigré Slovak historians lauded Tiso as a hero who had finally fulfilled the Slovak people’s desire for an independent state, had guarded this independence against the expansionist goals of Nazi Germany, had resisted efforts by his radical fascist rivals to seize power, and was always guided by his commitment to Christian morality and Catholic social teaching. After the fall of communism, a new wave of historians in Slovakia took up the struggle for Tiso’s rehabilitation, albeit with limited success. This biography, the product of exhaustive research and an extensive familiarity with existing scholarship, should put an end to such revisionist efforts. Tiso, an ethnic Slovak who was raised, educated, and entered the priesthood in the hypernationalist atmosphere of late-Habsburg Hungary, initially showed little fervor for the cause of Slovak nationalism. Instead, his mind-set was molded by the rigorous education he encountered in the seminaries he attended, including BOOK REVIEWS 173 the elite Pazmaneum in Vienna. Indeed, this biography offers the finest account available in English of the experience of young seminarians in Hungary at the beginning of the twentieth century. At the Pazmaneum, Tiso developed a lifelong attachment to the neo-Thomist/neo-Scholastic school of Catholic philosophy that manifested itself in the political arena with the emergence of “Christian Social” parties inspired by the call for a new spirit of Catholic “activism” that emanated from the encyclicals of Popes Leo XIII and Pius XI. In 1918, however, as the Habsburg Monarchy disintegrated following its defeat in World War I, Tiso eagerly participated in the Slovak nationalists’ campaign to break away from Hungary and join a new Czechoslovak state. He joined the Slovak People’s Party, which sought to defend Slovakia’s Catholic heritage against the centralizing and secularizing tendencies of the new Czechoslovak government; giving full vent to a ferocious display of antisemitism and then downplaying his hostility to the Jews when politically expedient, Tiso rose through the ranks of his party, displaying an absolute loyalty to the party leader, his fellow priest Andrej Hlinka; exhibiting a natural flair for organization and propaganda, and cultivating a reputation as a moderate—he was even briefly appointed government minister for health from 1927 to 1929. Following Hlinka’s death in 1938, Tiso assumed the leadership of the party and proceeded to exploit deftly the Munich crisis, which handed over the Czechoslovak Sudetenland, to obtain substantial autonomy for Slovakia, which he immediately exploited to establish a one-party state. When he was informed in March 1939 that Germany was determined to invade the rump Czechoslovak state, he proclaimed Slovakia’s independence, legitimizing Hitler’s invasion. The price paid for that independence was considerable. The German army was granted freedom of movement in western Slovakia; German businesses took control of an increasing share of the Slovak economy; and German advisers became an influential force in Slovak decision-making, while Slovakia was required to participate in the German invasion of Catholic Poland in September 1939 and the brutal invasion of the Soviet Union in 1941. German pressure for increasingly harsh measures against the Jews also led to the transfer of more than 50,000 persons to German-occupied Ukraine, where they were murdered. As the author compellingly demonstrates, all of these policies were enacted with Tiso’s support. He even expressed regret for having spared some Slovak Jews from deportation (p. 237). Appeals by his fellow clergymen to prevent these deportations and to resign from the government were brusquely dismissed; even Pius XII’s criticisms were brushed off with the claim that he had “a duty to defend our nation . . . against Czechs and Jews” (p. 255), and he considered the brutal treatment of minorities as “a duty to protect [himself] against evil” (p. 263). Tiso’s independent Slovak state proved its viability but not its value. His domestic policies amounted to little more than a ramping up of spending by the state, the maltreatment of minorities, and repeated calls for a new spirit of Chris- 174 BOOK REVIEWS tian charity and cooperation . By the end of 1944, his efforts to improve the welfare of the population had been reduced to handing out personally breeding rabbits (p. 255). Confronted by a serious armed uprising (in 1944) and the advance of the Red Army, Tiso’s authority collapsed. He sought refuge in Austria, was handed over by the American authorities to stand trial in reconstituted Czechoslovakia, and was condemned to death in spite of the appeals for clemency by Slovak Church leaders. Readers will conclude that the judgment of posterity should be no less severe. University College London THOMAS ANSELM LORMAN For God and Ireland: The Fight for Moral Superiority in Ireland 1922–1932. By M. P. McCabe. (Dublin: Irish Academic Press. Distrib. ISBS, Portland, OR. 2013. Pp. x, 310. $89.95. ISBN 978-0-7165-3162-3.) During an ineloquent but pious contribution to the parliament of the Irish Free State in June 1929, Fianna Fáil’s Seán T. O’ Kelly asserted, “We of the Fianna Fáil party believe that we speak for the big body of Catholic opinion. I think I could say, without qualification of any kind, that we represent the big element of Catholicity” (p. 244). The party he spoke for was then just three years old, and its parliamentarians had taken their seats only two years previously; but during the glorious centenary of Catholic emancipation, they were not going to be found wanting in expressions of the ferocity of their faith. Their holy declarations also fulfilled another purpose; just six years after the end of the civil war, it was necessary to begin the process of repositioning Irish republicans who had fought considerable verbal battles with Catholic bishops during that conflict. This book seeks to document and analyze these tensions in the first decade of the Free State’s existence. The book’s title is well chosen, given the frequency with which religious and spiritual images and words were used by republicans to justify their opposition to the compromise treaty signed with Britain to end the Irish war of independence in December 1921 and validate their civil war actions from 1922 to 1923. The author, writing his first book, succeeds in locating and unearthing fascinating private and public utterances and correspondence to underline the intensity of the religious and political battles being fought and the intricacies of ham-fisted and naive Vatican interventions in Irish politics during this period. But the book is severely undermined by uncertainty on the author’s part about the craft of the historian. Instead of presenting his evidence with clarity as a worthy end in itself, he suffuses his narrative with unnecessary, clumsy assertions and generalizations and an immature judgmental tone. His contention is that there has been a tendency to “grant the Catholic Church and especially its leaders, a large measure of amnesty regarding political activity” during this period, and he refers bitingly to “authors who have restricted themselves to abiding by the decisions of the [Catholic] Hierarchy” (pp. 4–8), a dubious and BOOK REVIEWS 175 unfair dismissal of the work of a previous generation of historians, produced when archival access was extremely limited, but work that has nonetheless paved the way for his. He favors histories that are “genuinely objective and critical of the Catholic Church in its involvement in Ireland beyond the scope of religion” (p. 6). There is a basic contradiction inherent in this assertion; it should not be the role of the historian to conduct research with such an agenda; what is required is presentation and analysis of the evidence as opposed to adopting a skewed and confrontational approach to the historic subject matter, fuelled by contemporary values. McCabe’s flawed reasoning, methodology, and awkward prose are somewhat compensated for by his interesting overview of the way in which republicans based much of their opposition to the treaty on the notion of “faith,” interpreting their movement religiously as guardians of the “soul” of the Irish nation (p. 35). This created serious tension with the bishops, as some republicans were intent on claiming a spiritual authority for their movement that transcended episcopal authority, resulting in an acrimonious battle of words, denunciatory pastorals, and excommunications. The bishops also had critics within the Church; Father Walter McDonald of Maynooth College, for example, suggested that their claims to moral righteousness provided “a very efficacious shield” to cover their real motive, which was political (p. 60). But republicans had their own strategies in response, including appeals to the Vatican, despite the determination of the republican sympathizer and rector of the Irish College in Rome, John Hagan, whose correspondence is used well here, to keep the Vatican out of Irish politics. Republicans Arthur Clery and Conn Murphy took their appeal directly to Pope Pius XI, and three months later, Monsignor Salvatore Luzio arrived in Ireland as papal envoy. Most bishops and government representatives were extremely hostile to his visitation. Bishop Thomas O’Doherty of Galway, for example, believed the idea of Luzio as a mediator in pursuit of peace was “ludicrous” (p. 114). The bishops were also concerned that the real purpose of Luzio’s mission was to lay the ground for a permanent Vatican representation in Ireland, about which the bishops were indignant, given its likely consequences for their much-prized independence. Luzio regarded the appointment of Protestants to the Senate by William T. Cosgrave, head of government, as “incredible in Catholic Ireland” (p. 133). Cosgrave, for his part, found Luzio’s mission “in the highest degree embarrassing to the government” (p. 126). His cabinet colleague Desmond FitzGerald was dispatched to Rome to complain, and Luzio was recalled shortly afterward. The author is correct in highlighting the significance of the fact that between the end of the civil war and Fianna Fáil’s rise to power in 1932, thirteen bishops died or retired, and their younger replacements did not carry the same civil war baggage, enabling many republicans (although not all) to return to the Catholic fold. But why does the Eucharistic Congress in Dublin in 1932 not merit a single mention, given that this also enabled Fianna Fáil to move even further away from BOOK REVIEWS 176 the fights for “moral superiority” of the civil war era? This event should have provided the author with a logical point for a conclusion, but logic is too often missing in this book. University College Dublin DIARMAID FERRITER La sollecitudine ecclesiale di Monsignor Roncalli in Bulgaria (1925–1934). Studio storico-diplomatico alla luce delle nuove fonti archivistiche. By Kiril Plamen Kartaloff. [Pontificio Comitato di Scienze Storiche: Atti e Documenti 36.] (Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana. 2014. Pp. 330. €26,00. ISBN 978-88209-9214-9.) On March 28, 1959, in his first Easter message to the world, Pope John XXIII looked back with some nostalgia over the events of his life that had led to the papal office. He knew that his ministry embraced all the peoples of the earth. Nevertheless, he confessed that he felt a “particularly warm tenderness” for Bulgaria where he had spent the “most vigorous years” of his life, 1925 to 1934. He recalled with great affection “that fine, hard-working, honest, and sincere people, and their beautiful capital, Sofia.”1 In this new book Kiril Plamen Kartaloff, a Bulgarian historian of Vatican diplomacy and correspondent of the Pontifical Committee for Historical Sciences, examines the ten years that Angelo Roncalli spent as the papal representative in Orthodox Bulgaria, first as apostolic visitator (1925–31) and then as apostolic delegate (1931–34). Drawing on a wealth of documentary evidence only recently made available by the Vatican Secret Archives and the Congregation for the Oriental Churches, Kartaloff paints a very detailed picture of the complex problems that Roncalli faced during his years in this Balkan kingdom. As the first papal representative in Bulgaria, Roncalli’s initial mission was to oversee the reorganization of the Catholic Church there and to provide for the appointment of a bishop for the small Catholic community of the Byzantine rite. He would also help to establish the first Catholic seminary in the country and, when the time came, to find a suitable building to house the offices of the apostolic delegate. But the most difficult issues concerned the religiously diverse royal family. King Boris III (1894–1943) was baptized Catholic but became Orthodox upon accession to the throne because the Bulgarian constitution required it. He eventually was able to marry Princess Giovanna of Italy (1907–2000) at the basilica in Assisi with the permission of Pope Pius XI, on the conditions that they would not remarry in an Orthodox ceremony and that any children would be baptized and raised in the Catholic faith. But when the couple returned to Sofia, they attended 1. Acta Apostolicae Sedis, 51 (1959), 244–45; The Pope Speaks, 5 (1959), 266. BOOK REVIEWS 177 a liturgy in the Orthodox cathedral that had all the hallmarks of a second wedding. To make matters worse, the couple’s first child, Marie Louise (b. 1930), was baptized into the Orthodox Church in clear violation of the promises made at the time of the royal marriage. This caused consternation in Rome, and Pius XI publicly denounced King Boris at a consistory in March 1933. (Roncalli had managed to convince the pope that Queen Giovanna was innocent in this matter.) During these royal crises, Roncalli stayed in very close personal contact with the main actors. Even though he did not have any previous training in diplomacy, he presented the position of the Holy See clearly and firmly while also maintaining a friendly and respectful relationship with his interlocutors. This comes across clearly in the lengthy and sometimes verbatim quotations that Kartaloff provides from reports sent by Roncalli to the Secretariat of State on crucial conversations with the king and government ministers. Biographers of John XXIII have often asserted that through his service in Bulgaria, Turkey, and Greece, he grew to appreciate the traditions of the Orthodox churches and that this explains why he made Christian unity one of the central concerns of the Second Vatican Council. The evidence that Kartaloff gathers shows that, while in Bulgaria, Roncalli shared the “unionist” approach of the times and encouraged the Orthodox to “return to Catholic unity.” Even so, he eschewed the standard reference to the Orthodox as schismatics, and called them “separated brethren.” He insisted that they were separated from Rome, not from Christ. “Catholics and Orthodox are not enemies but brothers,” he wrote in 1926. “We have the same faith, we participate in the same sacraments, above all in the same Eucharist” (p. 68). He felt that the best course was for Catholics and Orthodox to be faithful members of their own churches and to develop friendly relations with each other. In sum, this volume furnishes a wealth of documentation on Roncalli’s sojourn in Bulgaria, knitted together around several central themes. It is a bit thin on evaluation and analysis, but Kartaloff has provided us with a book that is an indispensable resource for anyone researching this period in the life of St. John XXIII. Saint Paul’s College Washington, DC RONALD G. ROBERSON, C.S.P. Il Professorino: Giuseppe Dossetti tra crisi del fascismo e costruzione della democrazia, 1940–1948. By Enrico Galavotti. (Bologna: Società editrice Il Mulino. 2013. Pp. 885. €60,00 paperback. ISBN 978-815-244529.) Giuseppe Dossetti (1913–96) was member of the anti-Fascist resistance, politician, canon lawyer, priest, peritus at the Second Vatican Council, founder of a religious order, and in the final years of his life a monk in the Middle East. In 1945 Dossetti became vice-secretary of the Christian-Democratic party (Democrazia Cristiana), the pivotal center of the political system immediately after 178 BOOK REVIEWS the war. In 1953 he founded the Istituto per le scienze religiose in Bologna. In the early 1990s Dossetti became the most important Italian Catholic engagé against the first Iraq War (fearing the dire consequences of Western-waged wars for Arab Catholics) and in 1994 against the rise of Silvio Berlusconi (who has changed the ethos of Italian politics). But, to understand Dossetti and a vast theological, spiritual, and political tradition within Italian Catholicism, it is important to go back to the roots of the young Dossetti. Enrico Galavotti previously analyzed the first twenty-five years in the life of Dossetti (Il giovane Dossetti. Gli anni della formazione 1913–1939, Rome, 2006), with a particular focus on the relationship between Dossetti and the Fascist regime while Dossetti was a young research fellow at the Università Cattolica del Sacro Cuore in Milan. In this second book, Galavotti focuses on the central years of Dossetti’s political activity, 1940–48: his involvement in the resistance during World War II and the work for the foundation of Italian democracy on the ruins of the war and of the two decades of Fascist dictatorship. The title of the book, Il professorino (“the little professor”), was a diminutive used by Dossetti’s adversaries (even within his own political party) to label him as intellectual, young, and inexperienced. But he was anything but inexperienced, as this massive volume, based on remarkable and impressive research in multiple archives (both institutional and private), is divided in ten chapters that follow Dossetti’s path step by step. The opening chapter is about the years 1940–42, with the shift from Italians’ enthusiasm for the war until the turn of 1942 also on the position of Italian Catholics toward the war and Fascism. The next key moments are Dossetti’s decision to become an anti-Fascist active in the underground (even though he refused to bear arms); the complicated relationship in the resistance between Catholic anti-Fascists and Communists; his rise to roles of leadership in the Christian-Democratic Party until becoming vicesecretary of the biggest political party in Italy (the Western country with the biggest Communist Party); his crucial role at the constitutional convention of 1946–47; and the dramatic electoral campaign for the parliamentary elections on April 18, 1948. Dossetti was a unique kind of politician in twentieth-century Italy. As a Catholic, he was totally faithful to the Church and at the same time totally engaged to the political community and its institutions; his biography is an important reminder of the complex paths of Catholicism in contemporary political cultures. At almost twenty years after his death, Dossetti still is an inspiring figure for many Italian Catholics and for some politically engaged Italian Catholics (but certainly not for a Catholic like the young prime minister Matteo Renzi). In this sense, the oblivion suffered by Dossetti in Italy is not completely dissimilar from the crisis of “political Catholicism” throughout the whole Western world (North, Central, and South America included). The book is dedicated to Angelina and Giuseppe Alberigo, the latter Dossetti’s successor as the director of the Bologna institute who died in 2007. This is one of the signals that tells us that this book needs to be read with an awareness of BOOK REVIEWS 179 the author’s intellectual tradition. But one of the reasons this book deserves to be read is the ability of Galavotti to keep an objective approach to Dossetti, without becoming part of a generational nostalgia for Dossetti and “dossettismo.” MASSIMO FAGGIOLI University of St. Thomas St. Paul, MN AMERICAN Common Threads: A Cultural History of Clothing in American Catholicism. By Sally Dwyer-McNulty. (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. 2014. Pp. xiv, 257. $39.95. ISBN 978-1-4696-1409-0.) This engaging book is filled with information that connects Catholic history, acculturation, and identity expression. Sally Dwyer-McNulty derived her work from documentary evidence collected at major Catholic archives. She began her study with the nineteenth century when Catholics were an impoverished minority at the margins of American society. She argues that dress was used to improve the status of Catholics as they navigated their role as a minority in the Protestant United States. Dress was strategically used to develop a sense of both unity and respectability as Catholics worked their way up America’s social ladder. To Catholics, material goods are highly symbolic, as Catholicism is based on a sacramental worldview. Dwyer-McNulty examines the intersection of gender, age, ideology, class, and democracy and how these are seen in dress. The book focused on institutionalized Catholics, such as priests, nuns, and Catholic schoolgirls, rather than the laity (which account for 97.6 percent of American Catholics).1 The book begins with the use of priestly attire in America from the 1830s to the 1930s. The United States was a missionary territory until 1908, and that affected the perception of priests. Dress became symbolic of political leanings. As priests embraced America’s concept of egalitarianism, they dressed much like the laity when away from the church, and the Holy See responded with clear dress codes so the clergy would keep religious identity at the forefront. Even shoes played a symbolic role with regard to ideology. When Pope Francis chose to wear simple black shoes rather than the traditional red papal footwear, he made a statement. While the clergy represents a tiny percentage (0.02 percent) of American Catholics, it has been through Catholic schools (with about 2 percent of Catholic students enrolled) that ideology about the social control of the body is taught, perpetuated, and regulated. Until the religious reforms of the 1960s (the Second Vatican Council) instigated major changes in dress, most women religious wore habits 1. 2014 statistics used here are derived from CARA (Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate), the Catholic agency that maintains statistics on the Church. 180 BOOK REVIEWS derived from dress in the Middle Ages. They underscored the sacramental nature of Catholicism and the role of nuns as being married to Christ. The dark colors (often black) symbolized that they were dead to the world and committed fully to the Church. In the chapters on school uniforms and social activism, Dwyer-McNulty discusses dress in the mid-twentieth century and how Catholic schools socially controlled female bodies. Uniforms were used to suppress concurrently status and sexuality. Nuns and women religious were charged with keeping young women modestly attired and did so through constant admonitions to control their bodies and ward off temptation. The final chapters cover changes since the 1960s. At the heart of the matter was the interaction of several social reform movements related to inequality in the United States along with the reforms of the Second Vatican Council. Tension related to issues of gender and authority surfaced, and the notion of female submission was examined. It was a difficult time for women religious. Change in roles, and in dress, was needed. Today, most women religious in the United States wear modified habits or are nearly indistinguishable from other modestly dressed women. There is a paucity of information available on Catholic dress from the 1970s forward, and it is truly needed to capture the whole picture. Perhaps DwyerMcNulty is planning to pursue this in future research. Common Threads is a stunning history and should be widely appreciated by Catholics. In addition, it is appropriate for a general audience as well as college classes at both the undergraduate and graduate levels. Washington State University, Pullman LINDA ARTHUR BRADLEY Church and Estate: Religion and Wealth in Industrial-Era Philadelphia. By Thomas F. Rzeznik. (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press. 2013. Pp. xiii, 286. $69.95. ISBN 978-0-271-05967-9.) Church and Estate is a study of the social and religious changes that took place in Philadelphia during the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries. Using this city as a case study is helpful, Thomas Rzeznik argues, because its “developmental trajectory serves as a representative example of how wealth transformed American society—creating value systems, reordering class relations, and structuring authority” (p. 4). Examining the ways in which wealthy Philadelphians were involved with their particular religious traditions helps historians to understand “how religious belief and denominational affiliation shaped individuals’ class identity and informed their public actions” (p. 5) and also assesses the ways in which these same people were able to influence the local church and the larger denomination. “If you want my money,” a wealthy church-going Philadelphian might have said to his pastor, “you will listen to my concerns.” BOOK REVIEWS 181 Although the Episcopal Church receives a good deal of attention—and rightly so, because many of its members were important leaders in the city’s business and financial community—Philadelphia’s Catholics, Quakers, and even the Church of the New Jerusalem (founded by Emmanuel Swedenborg) play integral parts in Rzeznik’s story. The building of the latter’s Bryn Athyn Cathedral, for instance, was the “product of the union of religious faith and aesthetic philosophy, made possible by upper-class patronage” (p. 85). Historians of U.S. Catholicism will be especially interested in two aspects of Reznik’s study. The first focuses on the growth of Catholicism in Bryn Mawr, a town located on Philadelphia’s Main Line. Although the area’s early Catholic community was primarily poor—many of them worked as servants for the neighborhood’s wealthy families—-by 1896, Our Mother of Good Counsel parish was able to spend $40,000 on a new church building. The design of Good Counsel was similar to the nearby Episcopal Church of the Redeemer and was therefore “an appropriately fashionable Main Line church, which from all outward appearances might have been mistaken as Protestant” (p. 99). Second, Church and Estate includes a discussion of St. Katharine Drexel from the perspective of wealth and philanthropy. The terms of her father’s will prevented Drexel and her sisters from transferring any of their inherited money to any other person or organization, which meant she would be unable to use her inheritance to support her religious community, the Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament. The solution was for Vatican leaders to grant Drexel a dispensation from the traditional vow of poverty taken by women religious, as well as allowing her to retain her name and legal identity. Drexel’s story is indicative of the ways in which wealthy Americans— Protestant and Catholic—began to ensure that their money would be used under the terms and conditions set by the benefactors, not the recipients of their largesse. Drexel herself participated in this aspect of philanthropy by asking those she assisted to demonstrate financial accountability. The situation that Rzeznik portrays so effectively could not last forever. The growth of the suburbs meant that many urban Protestant churches could not sustain their influence when their members deserted them for a quieter life outside of the city. Catholic parishes, at least in the early-twentieth century, remained stable because new immigrants quickly replaced those able to relocate to more affluent neighborhoods. Church as Estate is a well-written and meticulously researched book on a topic that has received little attention from historians of U.S. Catholicism to date. By examining the ways in which wealthy Christians—Catholics and Protestants— supported their churches, Rzeznik has contributed to our knowledge of both the development of Catholic philanthropy and the role played by wealthy Philadelphia Catholics in the growth of the U.S. Church. La Salle University MARGARET M. MCGUINNESS 182 BOOK REVIEWS Adventures in Philosophy at Notre Dame. By Kenneth M. Sayre. (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press. 2014. Pp. vii, 382. $38.00 paperback. ISBN 978-0-268-01784-0.) This is a valuable account of the transition of the Department of Philosophy at the University of Notre Dame from one in the l930s when it served the founding purpose of the university to its heterogenous present. It is more than that for it is also a chronicle of the secularization of a once Catholic university, and at yet another level, the book may also be read as an autobiographical account of Kenneth Sayre’s experience at the university, beginning with his arrival in South Bend in 1958. The story is told focusing upon the contributions of distinguished faculty members who are taken to represent each phase of the transition, beginning with Leo Ward and continuing with Joseph Bochenski, Ralph McInerny, Ernan McMullin, Alvin Planting, Philip Quinn, and Alasdair McIntyre, all somewhat different in their philosophical orientation. Brief biographical sketches are provided for each. There are also a dozen pages devoted to John Jenkins, the current philosopher/president of the University of Notre Dame. When Sayre arrived at the University of Notre Dame in 1958, the philosophy department was heavily Thomistic or Scholastic in orientation. Having recently completed his doctoral dissertation at Harvard University after previous work at Grinnell College, Sayre found this orientation mystifying. He came with little or no knowledge of the Catholic faith, or of its supporting philosophy and theology. Within Catholic intellectual circles it is common knowledge that some philosophies open one to the Catholic faith, whereas others close it as an intellectual option. It is further acknowledged that there is no such thing as Catholic philosophy, although there may be Catholic philosophers. Sayre makes no attempt to disguise his amazement that any intelligent person would embrace a philosophical position on the recommendation of an ecclesiastical authority. The reference, of course, is to Pope Leo XIII’s Aeterni Patris and its endorsement of a fledgling Thomistic movement for its relevance to both philosophy and theology in their confrontation with the skeptical philosophies of the Enlightenment. Sayre’s “Thomism” is a character of Aristotelian realism that remains perennially vital. Without doubt it was Ernan McMullin who, as chair, put the department on its quest for respectability in the larger, secular philosophical world. That transition mirrored the changes that many state and private institutions experienced in the early-twentieth century, moving from an Hegelian, idealistic, or religious orientation to a secular or noncommittal one. Sayre was the first non-Catholic philosopher to be hired at Notre Dame. By 1999, only seventeen of the forty-three philosophy professors were Catholic. As a consequence, the department entered the new millennium with no consensus about where it should be heading or what should be taught at the college level. From Sayre’s account one gathers that Theodore Hesburgh as president, more than anyone else, was responsible for the secularization of the University of Notre Dame. BOOK REVIEWS 183 In the closing pages of Adventures in Philosophy at Notre Dame, Sayre does not disguise his admiration of Jenkins—namely, for the latter’s “steadfast courage” in allowing the Vagina Monologues to be shown and performed at Notre Dame in spite of the disapproval of Bishop John D’Arcy, the local Ordinary. Similarly, he is full of praise for Jenkins’s invitation to President Barack Obama to give Notre Dame’s commencement address in 2009—again, in spite of Bishop D’Arcy’s disapproval, exemplified by his refusal to attend the commencement ceremony itself. Sayre also notes that Mary Ann Glendon, former U.S. ambassador to the Vatican, declined to accept the Laetare Medal on that occasion. Sayre’s personal prejudices and ill-formed judgments, although annoying, do not mar the factual content of the book. Its statistical comparisons of before and after resemble those that chronicle the decline of American Catholicism; indeed, one may say, of the decline of Western culture itself. Lost in the pursuit of ephemeral goals is the pursuit of wisdom, once thought to be the province of philosophy and the goal of higher education. The Catholic University of America JUDE P. DOUGHERTY FAR EASTERN Conflict and Conversion: Catholicism in Southeast Asia, 1500–1700. By Tara Alberts. (New York: Oxford University Press. 2014. Pp. xviii, 242. $125.00. ISBN 978-0-19-964626-5.) The position of Southeast Asia between India and China, two central population cores, has contributed to its extraordinary diversity (especially, and most challenging for historians, of languages) and importance (proverbially, events here controlled prices in Venice), even though it remains the most understudied history of major world regions. In her introduction Tara Alberts reminds us of the attraction and significance of the region for early-modern Europeans, which makes its neglect today all the more painful, and her scholarship all the more welcome. The relative obscurity of the region allows Alberts to present scholarship that intrigues because of the sources, rather than because of new interpretations; her extensive archival work means much of this material will be new even to students of Southeast Asia. The volume looks specifically at three places, well chosen for their distinctiveness in missionary outlook: Malacca (in modern Malaysia) with its “fanatical” Muslims; Ayutthaya (roughly modern Thailand) with its “apathetic” Buddhists; and Tonkin and Cochinchina (roughly modern Vietnam), where Christianity’s prospects seemed—and proved to be—brighter. This is the story of missionaries coming from a complex institutional background to lands equally complex in their culture and politics; in the first parcel of chapters, Alberts provides readers new to either world with lucid introductions. Next comes a shorter study of missionary methods, with substantial subsections considering their mode of dress, their use of science and healing, and their development of a catechetical literature. The 184 BOOK REVIEWS final third turns formally to the converts, considering their engagement with the sacraments and devotions of the Church before focusing on two specific groups of converts: women and slaves. A favored sentence opener, sometimes thrice in a single paragraph, is “Yet . . .” This is an account that derives its forward momentum less from a one-directional interpretive argument than from all the U-turns inherent in the messiness of sources documenting human life. Readers get a sense of the processes of conversion and resistance, information well organized and well indexed for readers. The text is thickly footnoted; the bibliography stretches to thirty pages. Concise methodological reflections will likely check off the theorists’ boxes without trying the patience of the empiricists. The contours of Alberts’s commentary largely follow trends in the recent scholarship of Southeast Asia, where Islam and especially women have become popular topics. Although it rewards in the human details, the book has little that would surprise a student of early-modern Catholic missions. As in other parts of Asia, we see the trampling of images as test of religious identity and anxiety about individuals being properly hatted and bearded. The many primary sources—documents in Latin and the romance vernaculars, found in Rome, Lisbon, Paris, Manila, and Goa—that animate the book make clear that this is no fault of the author. The sources are necessarily written by missionaries, and what impresses is how closely their challenges and solutions here (and how the authors presented here) match those of their co-religious in other parts of the world. It will be interesting as historians make increasing use of extant indigenous sources (which are, as Alberts reports, few and laconic) to see how, if at all, the account given here will be emended. Simon Fraser University Burnaby, Canada LUKE CLOSSEY China’s Saints: Catholic Martyrdom during the Qing (1644–1911). By Anthony E. Clark. [Studies in Missionaries and Christianity in China.] (Bethlehem, PA: Lehigh University Press; Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. 2011. Pp. xvi, 270. $39.99 paperback. ISBN 978-1-61146-145-9.) Little has been written on China’s Catholic Christian martyrs in English, particularly those from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, especially the Chinese martyrs, for whom scarce documentation exists even in Chinese. Hence this volume supplies a noticeable lack in information about Catholic Christian martyrs in China and is a welcome addition to the field. Clark discusses methodology in the introduction, emphasizing the need to give an account that takes seriously the martyrs’ religious faith while observing academic objectivity. What he hopes to achieve, he states, is to retell the history of Catholic martyrs in China “. . . with equal respect for both the motives of martyr- BOOK REVIEWS 185 dom and for the scholarly works that describe it” (p. 3). He notes the difficulties of dealing with the available sources—Chinese and Western, secular and religious. Chapter 1 is a very useful discussion of how the concept of Christian martyrdom was explained to Chinese Christians. Although in Western usage the word martyr is always understood to include the idea of being a witness for the faith, there is no Chinese equivalent of this concept. Martyrdom was mostly understood negatively in traditional Chinese society because once dead, a son could no longer carry out the sacrifices to the family or to his ancestors. Taught the Christian meaning of martyrdom, Chinese Christian martyrs died as witnesses and also believing that their death would lead them to a paradise very different from the bleak afterlife of the Chinese traditional view. Chapter 2 gives an overview of Catholic Christianity in China beginning with the legend of St. Thomas, the Nestorians of the Tang Dynasty, the Franciscans of the thirteenth century, the Jesuits and their arrival at the end of the sixteenth century with their accommodative approach and concern for Chinese culture, and the Rites Controversy. The chapter ends with a short overview of the Boxer Uprising and a review of the attitude of the Chinese Communists toward Christianity when the People’s Republic of China was established, foreshadowed by the killing of the monks at the monasteries of Our Lady of Consolation and Our Lady of Joy in 1947. Chapters 3 through 6 tell the stories of the martyrs, beginning with the Dominicans, then Jesuits, then Franciscans, and then martyrs from other missions. For each martyr, Clark summarizes what is known (which, for some of the Chinese Christians, is very little) and gives the background and events of their martyrdom. His decision to discuss the martyrs by religious order is probably due to the fact that China was evangelized by religious orders that were given the right to work in certain areas, and their priest missionaries were the ones who watched over the flocks in those areas. Still, a brief explanation of why this way of organizing the book was chosen would have been helpful. Otherwise, it seems, the religious order really has no connection with the fact of martyrdom, especially in the Boxer Uprising. This is a well-crafted book that provides the first English narrative of most of these martyrdoms. The inclusion of the controversy that erupted after Pope Saint John Paul II canonized the 100 martyrs on October 1, 2000, shows that the cultural differences and misunderstandings that lay at the roots of many of the martyrdoms in the earlier centuries still exist. Brigham Young University GAIL KING Report of the Editor Volume 100 of the journal consisted of 859 pages of articles, a disputatio, forum and review essays, book reviews, brief notices, and the quarterly sections Notes and Comments (including four obituary notices), Periodical Literature, and Other Books Received, with twenty-two pages of preliminary material, and a twenty-two-page index, for a total of 903 pages. Once again, Dr. Paul F. Grendler (University of Toronto emeritus) generously contributed money to support the journal. Of the fourteen articles published, one treated a medieval topic, three focused on early-modern subjects, four discussed late-modern European themes, four featured American issues, and two examined Chinese matters. Their authors came mostly from American institutions, but Australian, British, and Estonian universities were also represented. The ACHA Presidential Address dealt with an American topic. The Disputatio treated a Latin American controversy. The essays consisted of one Forum Essay on ancient Christianity with contributions by six scholars from the United States, England, and Scotland, and a Review Essay by a Canadian scholar dealing with nine volumes of documents from the Gomá Archive in Madrid. There were 198 book reviews and two brief notices. The published book reviews fall into the following categories: general and miscellaneous (13), ancient (15), medieval (56), early modern (51), late modern (26), American (22), Latin American (7), Asian (5), Canadian (2), and African (1). Their authors came mostly from institutions in the United States (126 or 64%), but those in other countries were also represented: in England (32 or 16%); Scotland (9 or 4.5%); Canada (7 or 3.5%); Australia (5 or 2.5%); Germany (4 or 2%); Ireland (3 or 1.5%); Italy and the Netherlands (2 each or 1%); and one each from Estonia, France, Hungary, Israel, New Zealand, Northern Ireland, and Russia. Of the two brief notices, one was from an author at an institution in the United States, the other from the United Kingdom (see table 1). Msgr. Robert Trisco, the journal’s associate editor who supervises the book review process, reports that the journal could have published many more book reviews if all those who accepted books had submitted reviews punctually. At the end of this year, sixty-two reviewers are considered delinquent. It is the journal’s practice to send such reviewers three reminders before abandoning the effort and listing the title in “Other Books Received.” So far, Msgr. Trisco has sent ninetynine first-reminder notices and sixty-nine second and third reminders. Authors disappointed not to find reviews of their books in the journal may email Msgr. Trisco at trisco@cua.edu and inquire whether a review copy was received and sent out for review. 186 REPORT OF THE EDITOR 187 TABLE 1. Book Reviews and Brief Notices Published in 2013 Area Winter Spring Summer Autumn TOTAL General Ancient Medieval Early Modern Late Modern American Latin American Canadian Far Eastern/ Australian African TOTAL 4 5 24 13 7 8 2 1 1 1 66 3 2 11 21 8 5 4 0 3 0 57 6 3 11 14 9 6 0 1 1 0 51 0 5 10 3 2 3 1 0 0 0 24 13 15 56 51 26 22 7 2 5 1 198 Brief Notices 0 0 1 1 2 By December 5, 2014, the editors had received thirty-seven new submissions of articles. These articles came primarily from the United States, but also from Canada, China/Hong Kong, England, Grenada, Italy, and Russia. Table 2 shows the current disposition of these submissions. To weigh this in context, it may be helpful to review submission and publication data since 2009. Of the forty-three articles received in 2009, fourteen were published; of the thirty-four received in 2010, fourteen were published; of the thirty-four received in 2011, thirteen were published; of the thirty-one received in 2012, six have been published, and three await publication; of the thirty-seven received in 2013, one has been published, and ten are accepted to date. In the editorial office, Msgr. Trisco handles with skill and tact most book reviews and continues to compile the sections Periodical Literature and Other Books Received. Dr. Jennifer Paxton gives great assistance as associate editor, evaluating manuscripts and selecting reviewers for books on medieval topics. Dr. Robin Darling Young, who joined the board of advisory editors last year, provides her expert advice and organized the Forum Essay that appeared in the autumn issue. The advisory editors continue to provide significant advice and service. Ms. Katya Mouris has returned as the devoted assistant to Msgr. Trisco. During Ms. Mouris’s absence over the summer to study paleography and archival sciences in Germany, Ms. Bonnie Brunelle ably substituted for her. Ms. Elizabeth Foxwell remains the dedicated and expert staff editor. With volume 100, the journal appeared in a new format. The cover design allows for illustrations of varying sizes; and the blue (winter), green (spring), red (summer), and orange (autumn) colors differentiate each issue. The new font (Caslon) results in more words per page. The upcoming special centennial issues evaluate the contribution of the journal to the study of church history over the pre- REPORT OF THE EDITOR 188 TABLE 2 Manuscripts Submitted in 2014 (as of December 5, 2014) Area Rejected or Published Conditionally Withdrawn in Accepted Accepted (W) Pending 2013 TOTAL General Ancient Medieval Early Modern Late Modern 1 American 2 Latin American Canadian Asian Middle Eastern African TOTAL 2 1-W 2 1-W 2 3 1-W 1 2 1 3 16 2 0 0 5 3 2 7 8 14 2 1 2 3 1 4 1 0 18 37 vious century and feature studies in the latest historiographical trend: applying the study of material culture to the history of Catholicism. Dr. Maureen C. Miller (University of California, Berkeley) skillfully organized and edited the issue dedicated to material culture and Catholicism that will accompany the winter 2015 issue. The editor is grateful to the anonymous peer referees who helped to evaluate the articles for the centennial issue dedicated to the historiography of the journal. After a process of discussions and negotiations, a memorandum of agreement has been drawn up by 2014 ACHA President Daniel Bornstein and CUA Press Director Trevor Lipscombe. The press has generously agreed to give electronic access to the journal at no personal cost to all members of the Association and to provide to them hardbound copies at near cost. The current president of the ACHA is invited ex officio to join the journal’s advisory editorial board. The journal will no longer publish the reports of the Association’s meetings, but will continue to print its award citations and the obituary notices of its distinguished members. NELSON H. MINNICH Editor Notes and Comments ASSOCIATION NEWS At the annual Presidential Luncheon on January 3, 2015, the American Catholic Historical Association honored the Distinguished Award recipients for 2015. William Portier (University of Dayton) received the Distinguished Scholar Award; Dennis R. Ryan (College of New Rochelle) received the Distinguished Teaching Award; and the Institute of Jesuit Sources in St. Louis (led by director John Padberg, S.J.), received the Distinguished Service Award. DECREE OF THE CONGREGATION OF THE CAUSES OF SAINTS On November 10, 2014, Pope Francis authorized the promulgation of a decree attesting to the heroic virtues of the following Servants of God: Francisco Maximiano Valdes Subercaseaux (1908–82), Capuchin and Chilean bishop; Ildebrando Gregori (born Alfredo Antonio, 1894–1985), abbot general of the Sylvestrine Congregation of the Benedictine Order and founder of the Congregation of the Reparatrix Sisters of the Holy Face; Raimondo Calcagno (1888–1964), Italian priest of the Oratory of St. Philip Neri; John Sullivan (1861–1933), Irish Jesuit priest; Pelagio Sauter (1878–1961), German Redemptorist priest; Jeanne Mance (1606–73), French laywoman and foundress of the Hotel-Dieu in Montreal; Marthe Robin (1902–81), French laywoman and foundress of the Association Foyers de Charite; and Silvio Dissegna (1967–79), Italian child from the Diocese of Turin. EXHIBITIONS Open until mid-January 2015 at the Brooklyn Borough Hall in New York is the exhibition “Friar Francis: Traces, Words, and Images.” Nineteen artifacts from the Sacred Convent of St. Francis in Assisi, Italy, are considered the most ancient documents of St. Francis’s life and theological tradition. Among these are Manuscript 338 that contains his “Canticle of the Sun” and Manuscript 328 that includes the interpretation of the Rule of St. Francis and the poverty of Christ by Friar Ubertino da Casale. There are also an early account of the life of St. Francis commissioned around the time of his canonization in 1228 and a later recounting written by Friar Thomas of Celano in the 1240s. In preparation for the exhibition, the manuscript underwent extensive restorations at the Praglia Abbey near Padua. Conservators repaired missing fragments of spines and borders, closed fissures in parchment using Japanese vegetable fiber or bovine membranes, and consolidated the ink and colorful paintings through the use of a starch gel. 189 190 NOTES AND COMMENTS Until March 15, 2015, the exhibition “‘Open the Gates of Paradise’: The Benedictines in the Heart of Europe, 800–1300” is open at the National Gallery in Prague. About 250 items from the Czech Republic and six other countries document the spiritual and material culture of central Europe from the time of Charlemagne to the high gothic period. Among the items on display are the oldest surviving copy of the Rule of St. Benedict from the library of Sankt Gallen Monastery in Switzerland, an antependium from the Rupertsberg Monastery in the Rhineland, a gilded processional cross, liturgical vessels, illuminated manuscripts, stone and wooden statues, coins, writing instruments, vessels, and garments. On view until April 12, 2015, at the National Museum of Women in the Arts in Washington, D.C., is the exhibition “Picturing Mary: Woman, Mother, Idea.” More than sixty depictions of Mary by famous Renaissance and baroque artists celebrate Mary as daughter, cousin, wife, mother, bereaved parent, mediator between heaven and earth, and active participant in the lives of those who revere her. RESEARCH TOOLS After fourteen years of preparation, the Collected Works of Edith Stein has been published by Herder Verlag of Freiburg-im-Breisgau. This twenty-six volume edition contains about 24,000 manuscript pages or fragments of pages of the writings of this Carmelite saint, treating philosophy, pedagogy, women’s questions, psychology, spirituality, mysticism, liturgy, prayer, Christian-Jewish relations, and Carmelitana. The papers of Emmet Larkin have been donated by his widow, Dianne, to the John J. Burns Library of Special Collections at Boston College. His papers contain correspondence with leading scholars in Irish studies; include notes and copies of documents from archives in Ireland, London, and Rome; and feature drafts and copies of his books and other publications. CONFERENCES AND MEETINGS On April 28, 2015, the Kirchengeschichtlicher Verein für das Erzbistum Freiburg will continue its celebration of the sequicentennial of its foundation in 1862 with a conference that will review not only the history of the association but also that of the Church in southwestern Germany. For more information, contact its chair at Karl-Heinz-VBraun@theol.uni-freiburg.de. On May 21–22, 2015, the Stephan Kuttner Institute of Medieval Canon Law that has returned to Yale University will celebrate its grand opening with an international conference in the Yale University Law School on the theme “New and Old in Medieval Law.” The keynote speakers will be Peter Landau (University of Munich), Richard Helmholz (University of Chicago), and Greta Austin (University of Puget Sound). Proposals for other papers should be sent to anders.winroth@yale.edu. NOTES AND COMMENTS 191 On May 26–29, 2015, the conference “Old Religion and New Spirituality: Continuity and Changes in the Background of Secularization” will be held at the University of Tartu in Estonia. The conference will investigate the roots of the decline of Christian beliefs and practices in Estonia and in other regions of Europe. Among the topics to be covered are the historical process of secularization, the effects of nationalism on public religion, changes in the traditional religious groups and churches, the manifestations and organization of atheism and nonreligion, new forms of spirituality, and mixed forms of individual and organized religion. Papers will be in English and limited to twenty minutes each. A selection of the papers will be published. Email an abstract (250–300 words) of a proposed paper or panel to orns@ut.ee. For more information, visit http://orns.ut.ee, or email Riho Altnurme at riho.altnurme@ut.ee or Mikko Ketola at mikko.ketola@helsinki.fi. On July 28–30, 2015, the Ecclesiastical History Society will sponsor its summer conference at the Humanities Research Centre of the University of York and its winter meeting on January 16, 2016, at the Dr. Williams Library (T.B.C.) in London on the theme “Translating Christianity: Word, Image, Sound, and Object in the Circulation of the Sacred from the Birth of Christ to the Present Day.” Without a revealed language, Christianity has been translated into more than 2000 language groups—the highest rate for any religion. It has also moved about (translated) sacred items such as relics. The various missionary enterprises have also led to a transfer of cultures. The conference will address such themes as the translation of the Bible and catechisms, the missionaries’ quest for a common regional language, the representation of the Christian message in arts and print, missionary narratives, religious dialogues and mediation, the construction of textual canons, and vernacular liturgies. The confirmed plenary speakers for the summer meeting are Simon Ditchfield, James Grayson, Anne Lester, and Joan-Pau Rubiés; for the winter meeting, Joel Cabrita. Email an abstract of about 200 words for proposed papers by April 15 to tgrass.work@gmail.com. For more information, visit http://www.history.ac.uk/ehsoc/conferences. PUBLICATIONS A special issue of the Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum (Band 18 [2, 2014], Heft 1) is devoted to “Der erste Clemensbrief und der sogenannte Valentinianismus—Schlaglichter auf das Christentum der frühen Kaiserzeit.” Following the “Editorial/Einleitung” by Christoph Markschies (pp. 1–5), there are seven articles, all in English: “Voluntary Exile as the Solution to Discord in 1 Clement” by Larry L. Welborn (pp. 6–21); “The Historical Example in 1 Clement” by Cilliers Breytenbach (pp. 22–33); “Jealousy, Internal Strife, and the Deaths of Peter and Paul: A Reassessment of 1 Clement” by David L. Eastman (pp. 34–53); “Harnack’s Image of 1 Clement and Contemporary Research” by Christoph Markschies (pp. 54–69); “The God ‘Human’ and Human Gods: Models of Deification in Irenaeus and the Apocryphon of John” by M. David Litwa (pp. 70–94); “Irenaeus and the Gnostic Valentinus: Orthodoxy and Heresy in the Church of Rome around the Middle of the Second Century” by Giuliano Chiapparini (pp. 95–119); and “A Late Witness to Valentinian Devotion in Egypt?” by Theodore S. De Bruyn (pp. 120–33). 192 NOTES AND COMMENTS In an apostolic letter dated October 7, 2012, Pope Benedict XVI declared Hildegard of Bingen a Doctor of the Universal Church. In recognition of this distinction Teología, Revista de la Facultad de Teología de la Pontificia Universidad Católica Argentina (Buenos Aires) has devoted its issue for April 2014 (vol. L, no. 113), to her memory. The contents are the following: “Carta Apostólica por la que Santa Hildegarda de Bingen, Monja Professa de la Orden da San Benito, es proclamada Doctora de la Iglesia universal” (pp. 17–27); “Santa Hildegarda de Bingen: ¿por qué ‘Doctora de la Iglesia’? Responden Bernardo de Claraval y Eugenio III” by Pedro Edmundo Gómez, O.S.B. (pp. 29–61); “La cosmovisión de Hildegarda de Bingen” by Azucena Adelina Fraboschi (pp. 63–82); “Correspondencias estéticosimbólicas en Ordo Virtutum de Hildegarda de Bingen: palabra, imagen, música” by María Esther Ortiz (pp. 83–100); and “La metáfora nupcial desde la mirada sinfónica de Hildegarda de Bingen” by Cecilia Avenatti de Palumbo (pp. 101–17). “Religious Emotions in German History” are explored in five articles published in German History in September 2014 (vol. 32, issue 3), as follows: “Feeling and Faith—Religious Emotions in German History” by Pascal Eitler, Bettina Hitzer, and Monique Scheer (pp. 343–52); “Fear, Anxiety and Terror in Conversion Narratives of Early German Pietism” by Andreas Bähr (pp. 353–70); “Unholy Feelings: Questioning Evangelical Emotions in Wilhelmine Germany” by Bettina Hitzer and Monique Scheer (pp. 371–92); “Against ‘Sentimental’ Piety: The Search for a New Culture of Emotions in Interwar German Catholicism” by Andrea Meissner (pp. 393–413); and “Performing Intimacy with God: Spiritual Experiences in Vietnamese Diasporic Pentecostal Networks [in Germany]” by Gertrud Hüwelmeier (pp. 414–30). The Anuario de Historia de la Iglesia has commemorated the outbreak of World War I in its volume (23) for 2014 with the following articles: “«Una Guerra ingiusta». La Santa Sede e l’Italia tra neutralità e intervento (1914–1915)” by Giovanni B. Varnier (pp. 17–39); “Benedetto XV, la Guerra e le posizioni dei vescovi italiani” by Caterina Ciriello (pp. 41–60); “«Iddio vuole le guerre?» L’esegesi cattolica della Grande Guerra fra «ragioni» antiche, condizionamenti politici e «sentimenti» moderni” by Sante Lesti (pp. 61–81); “Guerra y caridad”. Correspondencia entre la Santa Sede y el Comité International de la Cruz Roja durante la Primera Guerra Mundial” by María Eugenia Ossandón Widow (pp. 83–110); “«Questo immane suicidio dell’umanità». Giovanni Battista Montini e la prima Guerra Mondiale” by Cesare Repossi (pp. 111–35); “The First World War and Perceptions of Catholicism in England” by Andrew Soane (pp. 137–50); “Pio X: studi e interpretazioni” by Gianpaolo Romanato (pp. 153–67); “La nuova documentazione dell’Archivio Vaticano per una migliore comprensione della figura e opera di Giuseppe Sarto—Pio X” by Alejandro Mario Dieguez (pp. 169–85); “La reforma de san Pío X y la Liturgia: «sabe vivir bien, quien reza bien»” by Juan-Miguel Ferrer y Grenesche (pp. 187–204); and “Questioni giuridiche del pontificato piano” by Giuliano Brugnotto (pp. 205–15). The Historical Institute of the University of Potsdam, in collaboration with the Rome Institute of the Görresgesellschaft, held an international conference at NOTES AND COMMENTS 193 the Campo Santo Teutonico in Vatican City on February 20–21, 2014, on the theme “Roman Curia and Race Debate in the Interwar Period: State and Perspectives of Research.” Seven papers presented on that occasion have been published in Heft 1–2 of Band 109 (2014) of the Römische Quartalschrift für Christliche Altertumskunde und Kirchengeschichte. Thomas Brechenmacher and Peter Rohrbacher have contributed an introduction (pp. 1–6), and the articles are “Katholische Kirche und Rassenfrage in der Zwischenkriegzeit” by John Connelly (pp. 7–23); “Katholische Eugenik in Deutschland und in Österreich im Kontext der päpstlichen Eheenzyklika Casti connubi” by Monika Löscher (pp. 24–55); “Haltungen im deutschen Protestantismus zur NS-Rassenlehre” by Oliver Arnhold (pp. 56– 69); “Joseph Mayer—Eugenik, Notstand, Euthanasie” by Uwe Kaminsky (pp. 70– 91); “Agostino Gemelli and the Latin Eugenics Movement” by Aaron Gillette (pp. 92–102); “Pius XI., die Kurie und die antisemitische Wende des Faschismus” by Valerio de Cesaris (pp. 103–118); and “Die unterschlagene Enzyklika Societatis Unio und Pius XII.” by Thomas Brechenmacher (pp. 119–33). “Sanctity in America” is the theme of the issue for summer 2014 (vol. 32, no. 3) of U.S. Catholic Historian. It is articulated in five articles: “Mother Katharine Drexel’s Benevolent Empire: The Bureau of Catholic Indian Missions and the Education of Native Americans, 1885–1935” by Amanda Bresie (pp. 1–24); “A Saint of Their Own: Native Petitions Supporting the Canonization of Kateri Tekakwitha, 1884–1885” by Kellie Jean Hogue (pp. 25–44); “Friend and Father to the Fatherless: Monsignor Nelson Baker’s Ministry to Youth” by Richard Gribble, C.S.C. (pp. 45–69); “‘Allow me to disappear … in the fetid slums’: Catherine de Hueck, Catholic Action, and the Growing End of Catholic Radicalism” by Nicholas Rademacher (pp. 71–100); and “‘We find our sanctity in the middle of the world’: Father José Luis Múzquiz and the Beginnings of Opus Dei in the United States, 1949–1961” by Federico M. Requena (pp. 101–25). Periodical Literature GENERAL AND MISCELLANEOUS Da Roma al mondo: l’agenda del nuovo papa. Situazione della Chiesa e prospettive di riforma all’alba del pontificato di Pio X. Paolo Valvo. Rivista de Storia della Chiesa in Italia, LXVII (July–Dec., 2013), 521–41. En el primer centenario del Benedicto XV (1903–1914). El papa de la paz. Alfredo Verdoy, S.J. Razón y Fe, 270 (Sept., 2014), 199–210. Die unterschlagene Enzyklika Societatis Unio und Pius XII. Thomas Brechenmacher. Römische Quartalschrift, 109 (1–2, 2014), 119–33. Il Concilio Vaticano II. L’apertura, il pensiero di Giovanni XXIII, le finalità della riforma liturgica. Piero Marini. Ecclesia Orans, XXX (1, 2013), 47–70. El aporte del Concilio Vaticano II a la renovación de la historia de la Iglesia. Saverio Xeres. Anuario de Historia de la Iglesia, 23 (2014), 219–48. El carácter de análisis histórico de Gaudium et spes (1965) y la propuesta de método que implica. José Andrés-Gallego. Anuario de Historia de la Iglesia, 23 (2014), 249–77. Conversación en Roma con Paolo Siniscalco. Manuel Mira. Anuario de Historia de la Iglesia, 23 (2014), 503–19. Die Wirtschaft der Steinfelder Prämonstratenser. Ingrid Joester. Analecta Praemonstratensia, LXXXIX (1–4, 2013), 307–35. La Bibbia in Cina e la Bibbia in cinese: Storia delle traduzioni da Giovanni de Montecorvino a Gabriele Allegra. Raissa De Gruttola. Antonianum, LXXXIX (Apr.–Sept., 2014), 247–76. Il mosaico fatale. Ezio Albrile. Antonianum, LXXXIX (Apr.–Sept., 2014), 301–17. The Origins of the Shroud of Turin. Charles Freeman. History Today, 64 (Nov., 2014), 38–45. Alegoria da eucaristia—modelos gráficos comuns na pintura dos séculos XVII e XVIII na Polônia e no Peru. Ewa Kubiak. Coletânea, XII (July–Dec., 2014), 253–90. Jesuits in Goa: Restoration after Suppression (1759–1935). Délio Mendonça, S.J. Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu, LXXIII (1, 2014), 131–60. The cult of Blessed Peter Faber (1872–2013). Marc Lindeijer, S.J. Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu, LXXXIII (1, 2014), 195–227. 194 PERIODICAL LITERATURE 195 Geschichte der Christlichen Archäologie in Russland vom 18. bis ins 20. Jahrhundert (5. Folge). Liudmila G. Khrushkova. Römische Quartalschrift, 109 (1–2, 2014), 134–65. Los procesos de beatificación de Ramón Llull. Gabriel Ramis Miquel. Anthologica Annua, 55–56 (2008–2009), 245–63. La formación de los “nuevos institutos” de votos simples con superiora general en la sociedad liberal (1830–1918). Eutimio Sastre Santos, cmf. Anthologica Annua, 55–56 (2008–2009), 265–408. Learning to Write Algonquian Letters: The Indigenous Place of Language Philosophy in the Seventeenth-Century Atlantic World. Sarah Rivett. William and Mary Quarterly, 71 (Oct., 2014), 549–88. From Bridge to Divide: East-West Relations and Christianity during the Second World War and Early Cold War. Dianne Kirby. International History Review, 36 (4, 2014), 721–44. Lay Charism and Ecclesial Renewal: The Orthodox Youth Movement’s Revitalization of the Antiochian Patriarchate. Theodore Pulcini. St. Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly, 57 (2, 2013), 177–95. Saints and Miracles: The holy well at Binsey. Chris Catling. Current Archaeology, 297 (Dec., 2014), 16–23. Couvents du Nord de l’Iraq. Impressions d’une visite en 2012. Vincent van Vossel. Orientalia Christiana Periodica, 80 (1, 2014), 35–85. ‘In Accord with British Traditions’: The Rise of Compulsory Religious Education in Ontario, Canada, and Victoria, Australia, 1945–50. Stephen Jackson. Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History, 42 (4, 2014), 693–709. ANCIENT La tomba di San Pietro in Vaticano. Una ricerca documentale sugli scavi eseguiti nella Necropoli Vaticana: una Critica storico-teologica. Michele Basso. Divinitas, LVII (2, 2014), 139–86. La successione petrina del Vescovo di Roma. Ricerca storio-archeologica sul martirio e la sepoltura di San Pietro in Vaticano. Michele Basso. Divinitas, LVII (3, 2014), 247–347. Das Martyrium als imitatio Christi: Die literarische Gestaltung der spätantike Märtyrerakten und –passionen nach der Passion Christi. Maarten Taveirne. Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum, 18 (Nov., 2014), 167–203. Political ‘expedience’ and peripheral saints: assimilating St. Asteios of Dyrrachion in the Byzantine Orthodox tradition. Anna Christidou. Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies, 38 (Sept., 2014), 141–67. Chiesa e storia in Origene. Dieci anni di studi (2001–2011). Domenico Pazzini. Cristianesimo nella storia, 35 (2, 2014), 569–90. 196 P ERIODICAL LITERATURE Sethian Crowns, Sethian Martyrs? Jewish Apocalypses and Christian Martyrs in a Gnostic Literary Tradition. Dylan M. Burns. Numen, 61 (5–6, 2014), 552–68. The Pseudo-Iliberritan Canon Texts. Josep Vilella. Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum, 18 (Nov., 2014), 210–59. Constantine, Eusebius, and the Future of Christianity. Peter R. Brown. St. Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly, 57 (2, 2013), 117–33. Why care for the poor? The role of almsgiving in Jerome’s asceticism. Geoffrey D. Dunn. Zeitschrift für Antikes Christentum, 18 (Nov., 2014), 283–301. La “Revuelta de las estatuas” en la Historia Eclesiástica de Teodoreto de Ciro. Alberto J. Quiroga Puertas. Anuario de Historia de la Iglesia, 23 (2014), 459– 70. The end of ancestor worship: affect and class. Ramsay MacMullen. Historia, 63 (4, 2014), 487–513. Chromatius and Jovinus at the Synod of Diospolis: A Prosopographical Inquiry. Pier Franco Beatrice. Journal of Early Christian Studies, 22 (Fall, 2014), 437– 64. Is the letter Credebamus post from Boniface I or Leo I? Geoffrey D. Dunn. Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies, 54 (3, 2014), 474–93. Des chantres castrés dans les églises de l’Empire Byzantin? A propos du terme άντίϕωνος. Konstantinos Melidis. Classica et Medievalia, 62 (2013), 233–54. MEDIEVAL Preaching Romanness in the early Middle Ages: the sermon De litaniis from the Eusebius Gallicanus collection. Marianne Pollheimer. Early Medieval Europe, 22 (Nov., 2014), 419–32. Adomnán’s De Locis Sanctis and the Seventh-Century Near East. Robert G. Hoyland and Sarah Waidler. English Historical Review, CXXIX (Aug., 2014), 787–807. Did the English Really Think They were God’s Elect in the Anglo-Saxon Period? George Molyneaux. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 65 (Oct., 2014), 721–37. Romana urbs: levels of Roman and imperial identity in the city of Rome. Clemens Gantner. Early Medieval Europe, 22 (Nov., 2014), 461–75. Hunger und Wucher. Zur konziliaren Wahrnehmung gesellschaftlicher Wirklichkeit im 9. Jahrhundert. Gerhard Schmitz. Deutsches Archiv für Erforschung des Mittelalters, 70 (1, 2014), 121–42. Benedictus Levita I, 279—ein echtes Capitulum von 829? Vorarbeiten zur Neuedition der Kapitularien Ludwigs des Frommen. Steffen Patzold. Deutsches Archiv für Erforschung des Mittelalters, 70 (1, 2014), 67–86. Pieces of a puzzle: time and history in Walafrid’s Vademecum. Richard Corradini. Early Medieval Europe, 22 (Nov., 2014), 476–91. PERIODICAL LITERATURE 197 All roads lead to Rome? Frechulf of Lisieux, Augustine and Orosius. Graeme Ward. Early Medieval Europe, 22 (Nov., 2014), 492–505. Bizantini versus Saraceni: un’accusa d’idolatria. Egle Lauzi. Aevum, LXXXVIII (May–Aug., 2014), 283–309. Les moines dans les campagnes byzantines: des élites rurales? Rosa Benoit-Megginis. Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome, Moyen Âge, 124 (2, 2012), 345–57. La reconstrucción del brevario hispano-mozárabe. Propio de los santos (AdvientoNavidad). Gabriel Ramis Miquel. Anthologica Annua, 55–56 (2008–2009), 633–954. Was nicht in den Konzilsakten steht. Isolde Schröder. Deutsches Archiv für Erforschung des Mittelalters, 70 (1, 2014), 163–81. Bischöfe und Laien auf dem Konzil von Tribur 895. Zur Politisierung der Ehe in der Karolingerzeit. Karl Ubl. Deutsches Archiv für Erforschung des Mittelalters, 70 (1, 2014), 143–61. De Urgell a Palenica, o el primer camino del rito romano a Castilla. Juan Pablo Rubio Sadia. Ecclesia Orans, XXX (1, 2013), 119–55. The fires of hell and the burning of heretics in the accounts of the executions at Orleans in 1022. Michael D. Barbezat. Journal of Medieval History, 40 (4, 2014), 399–420. Nascita e sviluppo di una Badia. San Casciano a Montescalari nel Valdarno superiore fiorentino (1040–1130). Igor Santos Salazar. Archivio Storico Italiano, CLXXII (July–Sept., 2014), 403–34. Naissance de la paroisse “territoriale”. L’apport de trois actes du XIe siècle relatif à la Bretagne. Anne Lunven. Annales de Bretagne et des Pays de l’Ouest, 121 (June, 2014), 31–46. Accursed, Superior Men: Ethno-Religious Minorities and Politics in the Medieval Mediterranean. Brian A. Catlos. Comparative Studies in Society and History, 56 (Oct., 2014), 844–69. El proceso de introducción del rito romano en Navarra. Nueva aportaciones desde las fuentes litúrgicas. Juan Pablo Rubio Sadia. Ecclesia Orans, XXX (2, 2013), 455–545. La liturgia pasquale dell’abbazia di S. Benigno di Fruttuaria e il suo rapporto con le strutture materiali. Valentina Gili Borghet. Aevum, LXXXVIII (May–Aug., 2014), 455–91. Psellos in 1078. Michael Jeffreys. Byzantinische Zeitschrift, 107 (July, 2014), 77–96. La Regesta Pontificvm Romanorvm en la Península Ibérica: diócesis de Burgos y de León. José Luis M. Martín. Anuario de Historia de la Iglesia, 23 (2014), 333–39. Episcopal emotions: tears in the life of the medieval bishop. Katherine Harvey. Historical Research, LXXXVII (Nov., 2014), 591–610. 198 PERIODICAL LITERATURE Hugo van Fosses als kanunnik in Fosses-la-Ville en Cambrai (1087/95–1121/23). Bijdrage tot de ontstaansgeschiedenis van de Orde van Prémontré. Eric Van Mingroot. Analecta Praemonstratensia, LXXXIX (1–4, 2013), 5–269. Christians and Jews in the Twelfth-Century Werewolf Renaissance. David I. Shyovitz. Journal of the History of Ideas, 75 (Oct., 2014), 521–43. Entertainment in the twelfth-century canonical commentaries: were standards the same for Byzantine clerics and laymen? Maroula Perisanidi. Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies, 38 (Sept., 2014), 185–200. Due diplomi originali di Carlo, vescovo di Torino (1153 e 1158). Paolo Buffo. Bollettino Storico-Bibliografico Subalpino, CXII (1, 2014), 247–59. Das Verhältnis der Mainzer Erzbischöfe zu den Prämonstratensern im Mainzer Schisma und seine Vorgeschichte. Ingrid Ehlers-Kisseler. Analecta Praemonstratensia, LXXXIX (1–4, 2013), 270–306. Maintaining the Past, Securing the Future in the Obituary of the Temple of Reims. Michael J. Peixoto. Viator, 45 (3, 2014), 211–35. “Holding the Place of the lord Pope Celestine”: The Legations of Gregory, Cardinal-Deacon of Sant’Angelo (1192–4 /1196–7). Kyle C. Lincoln. Anuario de Historia de la Iglesia, 23 (2014), 471–500. Spiritualité et hagiographie à l’abbaye d’Aulne. Éric Delaissé. Collectanea Cisterciensia, 76 (2, 2014), 152–63. Le recluse e il Corpus Domini. Eleonora Rava. Antonianum, LXXXIX (Apr.–Sept., 2014), 277–99. French-language documents produced by the Hospitallers, 1231–1310. Laura K. Morreale. Journal of Medieval History, 40 (4, 2014), 439–57. Affective Medicine: Later Medieval Healing Communities and the Feminization of Health Care Practices in the Thirteenth-Century Low Countries. Sara Ritchey. Journal of Medieval Religious Cultures, 40 (2, 2014), 113–43. Documentos pontificios referentes al País Vasco (Siglos XIII–XV). Saturnino Ruiz de Loizaga. Anthologica Annua, 55–56 (2008–2009), 955–1064. Le più antiche pergamente pontifice di S. Crisogono in Roma (1245-1400). Federico Micciarelli. Rivista de Storia della Chiesa in Italia, LXVII (July–Dec., 2013), 499–519. Terziari francescani e assistenza ospedaliera nel medioevo tra Umbria e Marche (sec. XIII–XV). Archivum Franciscanum Historicum, 107 (Jan.–June, 2014), 25–59. The Will of Giordano Pironti, Cardinal Deacon of SS. Cosma e Damiano (d. 1269). Nicholas Vincent. Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia, LXVII (July– Sept., 2013), 373–96. Ablassbriefe aus dem Heiligen Land. Hans Eberhard Mayer. Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte, 125 (1, 2014), 1–9. PERIODICAL LITERATURE 199 De recuperatione Terrae Sanctae: dalla perdita al Acri a Celestino V. Luca Mantelli. Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia, LXVII (July–Dec., 2013), 397–439. ‘Flower of the Lily’: Late-Medieval Religious and Heraldic Symbolism in Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, MS français 146. Mary Channen Caldwell. Early Music History, 33 (Jan., 2014), 1–60. Inquisitorial Deviations and Cover-Ups: The Prosecutions of Margaret Porete and Guiard of Cressonessart, 1308–1310. Henry Ansgar Kelly. Speculum, 89 (Oct., 2014), 936–73. Piety and Social Distinction in Late Medieval Roman Peacemaking. James A. Palmer. Speculum, 89 (Oct., 2014), 974–1004. El Cisma de Occidente y la Asamblea de Medina del Campo de 1380–1381 en el Ms. lat. 11745 de la Biblioteca Nacional de Francia. Xavier Serra Estellés. Anthologica Annua, 57 (2010), 33–303. Bewailing the Dead. Social Tension and Mourning Practices in Late Medieval Sicily. Fabrizio Titone. Viator, 45 (3, 2014), 237–60. An Investment in Goodwill: Financing the Ransom of the Leaders of the Crusade of Nikopolis. Christopher Wright. Viator, 45 (3, 2014), 261–97. Gregorio Camposampiero (1384–1450), il figlio del “callegaro” finanziatore della ricostruzione della chiesa e del convento dei francescani a Camposampiero. Elda Martellozzo Forin. Il Santo, LIV (1, 2014), 67–120. Jan van Eyck, Canon Joris van der Paele, and the Art of Commemoration. Douglas Brine. Art Bulletin, 96 (3, 2014), 265–87. Rodrigo Sánchez de Arévalo: un humanista al servicio de la corona y el papado. Antonio López Fonseca and José Manuel Ruiz Vila. Anuario de Historia de la Iglesia, 23 (2014), 323–33. Catalógo de los codices que pertenecieron al obspo don Juan Arias Dávila (†1497) conservados en el Archivo Capitular de Segovia, y Leyenda y presentación del mismo. Marcelino González Pascual. Anthologica Annua, 57 (2010), 307–455. Pius II in the Bath: Papal Ceremony and Cultural History. Peter Godman. English Historical Review, CXXIX (Aug., 2014), 808–29. Herculean Labours: Johannes Martini and the Manuscript Modena, Biblioteca Estense, MS a.M.1.13. Murray Steib. Early Music History, 33 (Jan., 2014), 183–257. Regulating interpersonal debt in the bishop’s court of Carpentras: litigations, litigators and the court, 1486 and 1487. Elizabeth L. Hardman. Journal of Medieval History, 40 (4, 2014), 478–98. Christendom’s Bulwark: Croatian Identity and the Responses to Ottoman Advance, Fifteenth to Sixteenth Centuries. Norman Housely. Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 24 (Dec., 2014), 149–64. 200 PERIODICAL LITERATURE Pope Alexander VI, Slavery and Voluntary Subjection: ‘Ineffabilis et Summi Patris’ in Context. Hector Avalos. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 65 (Oct., 2014), 738–60. SIXTEENTH CENTURY Recognitions: Theme and Metatheme in Hans Burgkmair the Elder’s Santa Croce in Gerusalemme of 1504. Mitchell B. Merback. Art Bulletin, 96 (3, 2014), 288– 318. Early Sixteenth-Century Stained Glass at St. Michael-le-Balfrey and the Commemoration of Thomas Becket in Late Medieval York. Rachel Koopmans. Speculum, 89 (Oct., 2014), 1040–1100. “Primum graecissabant.” Federico Zuliani. Erasmus of Rotterdam Society Yearbook, 34 (2, 2014), 135–43. Erasmus von Rotterdam und Martin Luther. Anmerkungen zu einer spannungsreichen Beziehung. Wilhelm Ribhegge. Stimmen der Zeit, 232 (Oct., 2014), 667–79. La leggenda di Giovanni Calvino ad Aosta una messa a punto tra nuovi documenti, storiografia e divulgazione. Raul Dal Tio, Leo Sandro Di Tommaso, and Patrizio Vichi. Bollettino Storico-Bibliografico Subalpino, CXII (1, 2014), 51– 174. Anatomy and the Body in Renaissance Protestant Psychology. Davide Cellamare. Early Science and Medicine, 19 (4, 2014), 341–64. Die Reformierten und die Bilder. Martien E. Brinkman. Ökumenische Rundschau, 63 (Oct.–Dec., 2014), 486–99. Katholische Traditionselemente in der frühen eidgenössischen Reformation. Alfred Ehrensperger. Liturgisches Jahrbuch, 64 (2, 2014), 91–113. Elizabethan Puritanism and the Politics of Memory in Post-Marian England. Robert Harkins. Historical Journal, 57 (Dec., 2014), 899–919. The Liturgical Commemoration of Orthodox Christians Killed During the Oprichnina. Andrei Bulychev. Russian Studies in History, 53 (Summer, 2014), 42–67. Mount Athos and Venetian Cyrillic printing in the 16th century. The First Bulgarian Printer Jacob Kraykov Interprets the Athonite Legendary History. Mariyana Tsibranska-Kostova. Orientalia Christiana Periodica, 80 (1, 2014), 143–64. Coelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt’: David Stradling (1537– c.1595) and His Circle of Welsh Catholic Exiles in Continental Europe. Anna Maria Orofino. Recusant History, 32 (Oct., 2014), 139–58. Un texte capital sur la Saint-Barthélemy, le “Discours à la royne mere du Roy” (20 août 1573). Jean-Louis Bourgeon. Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du Protestantisme Français, 160 (July–Sept., 2014), 707–32. PERIODICAL LITERATURE 201 The death of Charles IX Valois: an assassin’s or a martyr’s blood. The image of kingship during the French Wars of Religion. Gianmarco Braghi. French History, 28 (Sept., 2014), 303–21. The Bishop’s Palace at Ely as a Prison for Recusants, 1577–1597. Francis Young. Recusant History, 32 (Oct., 2014), 195–218. Robert Gwyn and Robert Persons: Welsh and English Perspectives on Attendance at Anglican Service. James January-McCann. Recusant History, 32 (Oct., 2014), 159–71. Un sigillion inédit du patriarche de Constantinople Jérémie II et d’Alexandre Sylvestre sur la réforme du calendrier. Vassiliki Ch. Tzoga. Byzantinische Zeitschrift, 107 (July, 2014), 221–52. The development of a transnational “Mennonite” identity among Swiss Brethren and Dutch Doopsgezinden in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Troy Osborne. Mennonite Quarterly Review, 88 (2, 2014), 195–218. SEVENTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES Missioners on the Margins? The Territorial Headquarters of the Welsh Jesuit College of St Francis Xavier at The Cwm, c. 1600–1679. Hannah Thomas. Recusant History, 32 (Oct., 2014), 173–93. Rasgos espirituales de Madre Mariana de san José, fundadora de las Agustinas Recoletas. Enrique A. Eguiarte Bendímez. Mayéutica, XXXIX (2013), 169– 205. Un sistema de información en la Europa del siglo XVII: los catálogos trienales de la Compañía de Jesús. José Manuel Díaz Blanco. Anuario de Historia de la Iglesia, 23 (2014), 341–69. Santi, culti e conflitti giurisdizionali a Malta in età moderna. Francesco Russo. Rivista de Storia della Chiesa in Italia, LXVII (July–Dec., 2013), 441–58. Religion, Household-State Authority, and the Defense of “Collapsed Ladies” in Early Jacobean England. Christine Peters. Sixteenth Century Journal, XLV (Fall, 2014), 631–57. Healthcare in the Franciscan Far East Missions (17th–18th Centuries). Claudia von Collani. Archivum Franciscanum Historicum, 107 (Jan.–June, 2014), 61– 116. Remembering the Martyrdom of Saint Francis of Paola: History, Memory and Minim Identity in Seventeenth-Century France. Eric Nelson. History and Memory, 26 (Fall, 2014), 76–105. A Moderate Puritan Preacher Negotiates Religious Change. Ann Hughes. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 65 (Oct., 2014), 761–79. Las constituciones del Sínodo celebrado en Badajoz por el obispo Juan Roco Campofrío. Año 1630. Francisco Tejada Vizuete (†). Anthologica Annua, 57 (2010), 457–877. 202 PERIODICAL LITERATURE Expressing Selfhood in the Convent: Anonymous Chronicling and Subsumed Autobiography. Victoria Van Hyning. Recusant History, 32 (Oct., 2014), 219– 34. The Jesuits and the Portrait of God in Late Ming China. Junhyoung Michael Shin. Harvard Theological Review, 107 (Apr., 2014), 194–221. The harassment of Isaac Allen: puritanism, parochial politics and Prestwich’s troubles during the first English civil war. James Mawdesley. Historical Research, LXXXVII (Nov., 2014), 655–78. The Women of Fenstanton: Respectability and Moral Agency among Seventeenth-Century English Baptists. Rosalie Beck. Baptist History and Heritage, 49 (Spring, 2014), 50–63. Preachers and hearers in revolutionary London: Contextualising Parliamentary fast sermons. Ann Hughes. Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 24 (Dec., 2014), 57–77. Rethinking church and state during the English Interregnum. Charles W. A. Prior. Historical Research, LXXXVII (Aug., 2014), 444–65. Due altari per una pala. Precisazioni, ipotesi e conferme su Pietro Liberi e le cappelle Papafava a San Francesco Grande di Padova. Chiara Accorneo. Il Santo, LIV (1, 2014), 129–40. The Three Testaments of Cardinal Mazarin. Paul Sonnino. French Historical Studies, 37 (Summer, 2014), 421–36. Salvation and Community in Seventeenth-Century Dutch Mennonite Portraiture: Egbert van Heemskerck’s Portrait of Jacob Hercules and His Family, 1669. Michelle Moseley-Christian. Sixteenth Century Journal, XLV (Fall, 2014), 599–630. Varatojo e o “Livro de Missões”, Subsídios para o seu Estudo. António De Sousa Araújo. Itinerarium, LX (Jan.–Apr., 2014), 5–60. Il grande dipinto dei Protomartiri francescani a Treia. Analisi iconografica e nuove ipotesi interpretative. Giuseppe Cassio. Il Santo, LIV (1, 2014), 141–50. Vocation in seventeenth-century France: the Catholic ethic and the spirit of étatisme. Jotham Parsons. French History, 28 (Sept., 2014), 322–42. Les conditions de voyage des pèlerins sous l’Ancien Régime. Bruno Maes. Annales de Bretagne et des Pays de l’Ouest, 121 (3, 2014), 79–96. Le voyage interdit: Les conditions de voyage des huguenots vers le Refuge. Didier Boisson. Annales de Bretagne et des Pays de l’Ouest, 121 (3, 2014), 119–30. Le refuge huguenot, exil et accueil. Michelle Magdelaine. Annales de Bretagne et des Pays de l’Ouest, 121 (3, 2014), 131–43. Vescovi e giuspatronati laicali nel Regno di Napoli: strategie economiche, sociali, e familiari delle élites in Età moderna. Vincenzo Naymo. Rivista de Storia della Chiesa in Italia, LXVII (July–Dec., 2013), 461–74. PERIODICAL LITERATURE 203 L’antidotario cinese di Pedro de la Piñuela OFM (1650–1704). Testo e contesto. Elisabetta Corsi. Archivum Franciscanum Historicum, 107 (Jan.–June, 2014), 117–47. La Compañía de Jesús según los tres volúmenes del Lumen Domus o Anales del Convento de Santa Catalina de los dominicos de Barcelona, en los siglos XVII y XVIII. Ignacio Vila Despujol, S.J. Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu, LXXXIII (1, 2014), 9–59. Striking Pondichéry: Religious Disputes and French Authority in an Indian Colony of the Ancien Régime. Danna Agmon. French Historical Studies, 37 (Summer, 2014), 437–67. La concezione della chiesa e l’unità in Nikolaus Ludwig Von Zinzendorf e nei Fratelli moravi. Michele Cassese. Studi Ecumenici, XXXI (Oct.–Dec., 2013), 307–26. La nueva monarquía, religión y sociedad. Felipe V y la Sevilla del lustro real (1729– 1733). José Gámez Martín. Isidorianum, XXIII (2014), 181–225. Baptizing Wyclif: A Medieval Ancestor in the Baptist History of Thomas Crosby. Bruce V. Hill II. Baptist History and Heritage, 49 (Spring, 2014), 3–26. Friedrich der Große und die preußische Militärkirche. Johannes Wallmann. Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche, 111 (June, 2014), 148–78. Alexander Volck’s Anti-Moravian Polemics as Enlightenment Anxieties. Derrick R. Miller. Journal of Moravian History, 14 (2, 2014), 103–18. Beneficios curados de las grandes abadías benedictininas leonesas (s. XVIII). Ernesto Zaragoza Pascual. Compostellanum, LIX (Jan.–June, 2014), 275–301. Methodist Spiritual Condition in Georgian Northern England. Robert A. Schofield. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 65 (Oct., 2014), 780–802. 200 Jahre neue Gesellschaft Jesu. Warum ein Papst den Jesuitenorden aufhob (1773) und wiederherstellte (1814). Klaus Schatz S.J. Stimmen der Zeit, 232 (July, 2014), 483–96. Quelques documents concernant Jean-Baptiste L’Écuy, Abbé de Prémontré et Général de l’Ordre. Bernard Ardura. Analecta Praemonstratensia, LXXXIX (1–4, 2013), 336–61. L’infallibilità della Chiesa e i “Fatti dommatici” nel pensiero di Giovanni Vincenzo Bolgeni. Marco Rochini. Rivista de Storia della Chiesa in Italia, LXVII (July– Dec., 2013), 475–97. Separation and conflict: Syriac Jacobites and Syriac Catholics in Mardin in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Ibrahim Özcoşar. Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies, 38 (Sept., 2014), 201–17. NINETEENTH AND TWENTIETH CENTURIES Supresión y restauración de la Compañía. Lectura sapiencial en tiempos de poda. Benjamín Gonzáles Buelta, S.J. Razón y Fe, 270 (July–Aug., 2014), 21–34. 204 PERIODICAL LITERATURE El trasfondo histórico del restablecimiento de la Compañía de Jesús en 1814. Manuel Revuelta González, S.J. Razón y Fe, 270 (July–Aug., 2014), 35–46. La diocesi di Saluzzo-Pinerole in epoca napoleonica (1805–1817). Mario Riberi. Bollettino Storico-Bibliografico Subalpino, CXII (1, 2014), 201–31. Proceso de purificación al Vicario de Estepa por su actitud durante la ocupación napoleónica de la villa. Jorge A. Jordán Fernández. Isidorianum, XXIII (2014), 127–80. La “crisis total” del Real colegio de España (1812–1815). Raúl Francisco Sebastián Solanes. Religión y Cultura, LX (Jan.–June, 2014), 217–43. The First Permanently Appointed Catholic Chaplains in Australia, Fr Philip Connolly and Fr John Joseph Therry. Terry Southerwood. Australasian Catholic Record, 91 (July, 2014), 302–22. Private Partners: Cooperation between Russia and Rome in the Crisis of the Armenian Catholic Church, 1827–1830. Christopher Korten. Slavonic and East European Review, 92 (Oct., 2014), 653–73. Raíces del anticlericalismo en la España de la II República como reacción a la recuperación eclesiástica de la Restauración. José Ramón Hernández Figueiredo. Compostellanum, LIX (Jan.–June, 2014), 219–73. La figure du Pasteur dans l’opéra. Arnaud Verrey. Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du Protestantisme Français, 160 (July–Sept., 2014), 771–93. Actas del deán Bedoya durante la sede vacante de Orense (1841–1847). José Ramón Hernández Figueiredo. Anthologica Annua, 55–56 (2008–2009), 411–631. Devenir Romain au XIXe siècle: Le cas de la Congrégation du Saint-Esprit. Paul Airiau. Bulletin de Littérature Ecclésiastique, CXV (July–Sept., 2014), 353–72. Pio X: tra radici venete e patavine. Luciano Bertazzo. Studia Patavina, LXI (May– Aug., 2014), 417–28. Penser la christianisme au XIXe siècle. L’éclectisme mystique d’Alphonse Gratry (1805–1872). Guillaume Cuchet. Revue des Sciences Philosophiques et Théologiques, 98 (Jan.–Mar., 2014), 75–100. Léon Pilatte, pasteur à Nice. Myriam A. Orban. Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire du Protestantisme Français, 160 (July–Sept., 2014), 733–69. William McIlwaine and the 1859 Revival in Ulster: A Study of Anglican and Evangelical Identities. Daniel Ritchie. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 65 (Oct., 2014), 803–26. Discord in the Mother Church: The Failure of Leadership in the Later Years of the Church of Christ in Barker Gate, Nottingham. John T. Maple. Restoration Quarterly, 55 (4, 2013), 213–24. Alexander Bachynsky’s Translation of the Psalter: Ruthenian Centrism and Habsburg Theology. Peter Galadza. Orientalia Christiana Periodica, 80 (1, 2014), 165–98. PERIODICAL LITERATURE 205 I Cavalieri dello spirito per la pedagogia della nazione. Sergio Apruzzese. Cristianesimo nella storia, 35 (2, 2014), 475–528. Aproximación a las fuentes archivísticas para el estudio de la Historia de la Iglesia Española en el Archivo General de la Universidad de Navarra. Inés Irurita and Jesús M. Zaratiegui. Anuario de Historia de la Iglesia, 23 (2014), 311–22. Confesionales versus interconfesionales. La Santa Sede y los católicos alemanes (1907–1922). Cristóbal Robles Muñoz. Anthologica Annua, 55–56 (2008– 2009), 11–243. Godly, International, and Independent: German Protestant Missionary Loyalties before World War I. Jeremy Best. Central European History, 47 (Sept., 2014), 585–611. Franz Rosenzweig (1886–1929). Paradoxes et sens d’une “conversion”. Francis Guibal. Étvdes, No. 4208 (Sept., 2014), 51–60. “Streich diese Predigt durch, wie alle, die ich bis heute gehalten!” Andreas Meier. Zeitschrifte für Kirchengeschichte, 125 (1, 2014), 30–55. Embedded Memory and the Churches in Ireland. Oliver P. Rafferty, SJ. Heythrop Journal, LV (May, 2014), 409–21. Rückkehr und Tätigkeit der Jesuiten in Litauen (1922–1940): Ein Import des deutschen Katholizismus? Arūnas Streikus. Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte, 125 (1, 2014), 11–29. Albert Schweitzer and the Jews. James Carleton Paget. Harvard Theological Review, 107 (July, 2014), 363–98. Albert Schweitzer: La genèse des Souvenirs de mon enfance (1924) à partir de documents inédits. Othon Printz. Revue d’Histoire et de Philosophie Religieuses, 94 (July–Sept., 2014), 275–302. [Gianfranco] Contini nel mondo rosminiano. Fulvio De Giorgi. Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, 5 (2, 2013), 599–688. False Start or Brave Beginning: The Society of Jews and Christians, 1924–1944. Anne Summers. Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 65 (Oct., 2014), 827–51. Der Trierer Generalvikar Heinrich von Meurers (1888–1953)—ein Förderer liturgiewissenschaftlicher Forschung. Guido Pasenow. Trierer Theologische Zeitschrift, 123 (3, 2014), 240–55. Le riflessioni bibliche di Faulhaber di fronte al nazismo. Frederic Raurell. Laurentianum, 55 (1, 2014), 3–46. Los fundamentos humanísticos de La Rosa Blanca. José María García Pelegrín. Verdad y Vida, LXXI (July–Dec., 2013), 315–26. Die Weisse Rose y la F.U.E. [Federación Universitaria Escolar]. Eduardo González Calleja. Verdad y Vida, LXXI (July–Dec., 2013), 327–37. “The Virgin Mary is Going South”: Refugee Resettlement in South Vietnam, 1954–56. Jessica Elkind. Diplomatic History, 38 (Nov., 2014), 987–1016. 206 PERIODICAL LITERATURE Protecting Unborn Life in the Secular Age: The Catholic Church and the West German Abortion Debate, 1969–1989. Kimba Allie Tichenor. Central European History, 47 (Sept., 2014), 612–45. Gonzalo Redondo. Aproximación a su concepción de la historia. José Luis Illanes. Anuario de Historia de la Iglesia, 23 (2014), 389–401. Historicizing the Intractable and Random Conflicts between Christians and Muslims in the West African Sub-Region: A Critical Theological Perspective. Ikenna Ugochukwu Okafor. Heythrop Journal, LV (May, 2014), 422–38. AMERICAN Healing on the Edge: The Construction of Medicine on the Jesuit Frontier of Northern New Spain. Rebecca Crocker. Journal of the Southwest, 56 (Summer, 2014), 293–318. “To Tell What God Hath Done for Thy Soul”: Puritan Spiritual Testimonies as Admission Tests and Means of Edification. Francis J. Bremer. New England Quarterly, 87 (Dec., 2014), 625–65. The Murder of William Wise: An Examination of Indentured Servitude, AntiIrish Prejudice, and Crime in Early Georgia. Julie Anne Sweet. Georgia Historical Quarterly, 96 (Spring, 2012), 1–23. Learning the Landscape: The O’odham Acclimation of the Father Agustín de Campos. Dale S. Brenneman. Journal of the Southwest, 56 (Summer, 2014), 269–91. The Paradox of Friendship: Loyalty and Betrayal on the Sonoran Frontier. Ignacio Martínez. Journal of the Southwest, 56 (Summer, 2014), 319–44. Colonial Tensions in the Governance of Indigenous Authorities and the Pima Uprising of 1751. Rodrigo F. Rentería-Valencia. Journal of the Southwest, 56 (Summer, 2014), 345–64. Anthony Benezet: The Emergence of a Weighty Friend. J. William Frost. Quaker History, 103 (Fall, 2014), 1–17. Personal and Social Transformation in the Work of Anthony Benezet (1713– 1784). Ellen M. Ross. Quaker History, 103 (Fall, 2014), 30–44. The Life and Times of Fr. Junípero Serra: A Pan-Borderlands Perspective. David Hurst. The Americas, 71 (Oct., 2014), 185–225. The Paxton Boys and the Moravians: Terror and Faith in the Pennsylvania Backcountry. Scott Paul Gordon. Journal of Moravian History, 14 (2, 2014), 119– 52. “Indescribable Being”: Theological Performances of Genderlessness in the Society of the Publick Universal Friend, 1776–1819. Scott Larson. Early American Studies, 12 (Fall, 2014), 576–600. PERIODICAL LITERATURE 207 Birthing Empire: Economies of Childrearing and the Formation of American Colonialism in Hawai’i, 1820–1848. Joy Schulz. Diplomatic History, 38 (Nov., 2014), 895–925. Thomas Cole and the Episcopal Church. J. Robert Wright. Anglican and Episcopal History, 83 (Sept., 2014), 292–318. Early California Reconsidered: Mexicans, Anglos, and Indians at Mission San José. James A. Sandos and Patricia B. Sandos. Pacific Historical Review, 83 (Nov., 2014), 592–625. Consecrated Merchants and Midnight Criers: Commerical Evangelicalism and a Jazz Theory of Gender Distinctions in Nineteenth-Century America. T. R. Noddings. Early American Studies, 12 (Fall, 2014), 601–25. “We Are Determined to Be White Ladies”: Race, Identity, and the Maryland Tradition in Antebellum Visitation Convents. Joseph G. Mannard. Maryland Historical Magazine, 109 (Summer, 2014), 133–57. The Hospitals of the Sisters of St. Francis of Philadelphia, 1860–1910. Helen Jacobson, OSF, and Christopher J. Kauffman. Archivum Franciscum Historicum, 107 (Jan.–June, 2014), 149–73. “The First Secessionist Was Satan”: Secession and the Religious Politics of Evil in Civil War America. Edward J. Blum. Civil War History, 60 (Sept., 2014), 234–69. To Make the World Saved: American Religion and the Great War. Andrew Preston. Diplomatic History, 38 (Sept., 2014), 813–25. Modernity Confronts Tradition: Concordia College and the Turbulent Twenties. Caroll Engelhardt. Minnesota History, 64 (Fall, 2014), 92–103. Sherwood Eddy, the Missionary Enterprise, and the Rise of Christian Internationalism in 1920s America. Michael G. Thompson. Modern Intellectual History, available on CJ0 2014 doi: 10.1017/S1479244314000493. Working away: Mennonite place, women’s space, and plain maids of the 1930s. Julia Kasdorf. Mennonite Quarterly Review, 88 (2, 2014), 219–32. “A Bad Kind of Magic”: The Niebuhr Brothers on “Utilitarian Christianity” and the Defense of Democracy. K. Healan Gaston. Harvard Theological Review, 107 (Jan., 2014), 1–30. Youth, Christianity, and the Crisis of Civilization, 1930-1945. Thomas E. Bergler. Religion and American Culture, 24 (2, 2014), 259–75. The Last Generation of Sister Administrators: Insights about the Transition of Catholic Hospital Leadership. Mary Kelly and Maureen Anthony. American Catholic Studies, 125 (Fall, 2014), 33–51. El impacto del Concilio Vaticano II en la historiografía sobre el catolicismo en Estados Unidos. Federico M. Requena. Anuario de Historia de la Iglesia, 23 (2014), 279–307. 208 PERIODICAL LITERATURE El impacto del Concilio Vaticano II en la historiografía sobre el catolicismo en Estados Unidos. Federico M. Requena. Anuario de Historia de la Iglesia, 23 (2014), 279–307. Renovating for the New Liturgy: The Boston College Students’ Chapel. Catherine R. Osborne. American Catholic Studies, 125 (Fall, 2014), 93–104. “The Quiet Revival”: New Immigrants and the Transformation of Christianity in Boston. Marilynn Johnson. Religion and American Culture, 24 (2, 2014), 231– 58. The death and resurrection of the American religious marketplace. Christopher W. Boerl. International Study of the Christian Church, 14 (3, 2014), 260–76. LATIN AMERICAN Mary’s Green Brilliance: The Case of the Virgin of Copacabana. Gabriela A. Siracusano. Journal of Interdisciplinary History, 45 (Winter, 2015), 389–406. Capilla Mayor del convento San Agustín de la actual Sucre. Emiliano Sánchez Pérez, OSA. Religión y Cultura, LX (Jan.–June, 2014), 187–216. The Birth of the Virgin with Saint Michael Mural at Tabí: The Immaculada, Eschatology, and Christian Orthodoxy in Seventeenth-Century Yucatán. Linda K. Williams. Ethnohistory, 61 (Fall, 2014), 715–38. Slavery, Ethnic Identity, and Christianity in Eighteenth-Century Moravian Antigua. John Catron. Journal of Moravian History, 14 (2, 2014), 153–78. La restauración de los jesuitas expulsados de Venezuela (1767–1916). José del Rey Fajardo, S.J. Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu, LXXXIII (1, 2014), 61–109. Algunas aproximaciones a la construcción literaria de enemigos en la historiografía jesuítica iberoamerica. Cambios y permanencias entre los siglos XVIII y XX. Nicolás Hernán Perrone, S.J. Archivum Historicum Societatis Iesu, LXXXIII (1, 2014), 111–29. “In the name of civilization and with a Bible in their hands”: Religion and the 1846–48 Mexican-American War. Peter Guardino. Mexican Studies, 30 (Summer, 2014), 342–65. Mennonite colonization of Mexico and the pendulum of modernization, 1920– 2013. Jason Dormady. Mennonite Quarterly Review, 88 (2, 2014), 167–94. Pío XI y Álvaro Obregón. Relaciones a través de la Delegación Apostólica en México (1921–1923). Carmen José Alejos. Anuario de Historia de la Iglesia, 23 (2014), 403–31. Reforming Catholicism: Papal Power in Guatemala during the 1920s and 1930s. Bonar L. Hernández. The Americas, 71 (Oct., 2014), 255–80. La Iglesia y las elecciones de 1930: un conflicto entre tradición y modernidad en el marco del proceso de secularización en Colombia. María del Rosario Vázquez Piñeros. Anuario de Historia de la Iglesia, 23 (2014), 433–58. Other Books Received Bannister, Jo. Deadly Virtues: A Mystery. (New York: Minotaur Books, an imprint of St. Martin’s Press. 2014. Pp. vi, 307. $15.99 paperback.) Camille, Alice, and Paul Boudreau. Fearless: Stories of the American Saints. (Cincinnati: Franciscan Media. 2014. Pp. viii, 207. $15.99 paperback.) Clarke, Peter, and Tony Claydon (Eds.). Saints and Sanctity. [Studies in Church History, Vol. 47.] (Rochester, NY: Boydell and Brewer on behalf of the Ecclesiastical History Society. 2011. Pp. xxi, 437. $80.00 clothbound.) D’Ambrosio, Marcellino. When the Church Was Young: Voices of the Early Fathers. (Cincinnati: Servant Books, an imprint of Franciscan Media. 2014. Pp. xvi, 304. $19.99 paperback.) There are no references to the historical literature in the footnotes, but there is a bibliography of “Reference and Secondary Sources.” D’Souza, Mario O., C.S.B., with Jonathan R. Seiling (Eds.). Being in the World: A Quotable Maritain Reader. (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press. 2014. Pp. xiv, 314. $35.00 paperback.) Deutsch, Celia M., Eugene J. Fisher, and James Rubin (Eds.). Toward the Future: Essays on Catholic-Jewish Relations in Memory of Rabbi León Klenicki. [Studies in Judaism and Christianity.] (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press. 2013. Pp. xxvi, 255. $24.95 paperback.) Dreyer, Elizabeth A. Accidental Theologians: Four Women Who Shaped Christianity. (Cincinnati: Franciscan Media. 2014. Pp. xiv, 153. $15.99 paperback.) The four women are Hildegard of Bingen, Catherine of Siena, Teresa of Avila, and Thérèse of Lisieux. Ferngren, Gary B. Medicine and Religion: A Historical Introduction. (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. 2014. Pp. xiv, 241. $24.95 paperback.) Froehlich, Karlfried. Sensing the Scriptures: Aminadab’s Chariot and the Predicament of Biblical Interpretation. (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing. 2014. Pp. x, 166. $25.00 paperback.) Hain, Randy. Joyful Witness: How to Be an Extraordinary Catholic. (Cincinnati: Servant Books, an imprint of Franciscan Media. 2014. Pp. xvi, 144. $15.99 paperback.) Hamrin, Carol Lee (Ed.), with Stacey Bieler. Salt and Light: More Lives of Faith That Shaped Modern China. Vol. 2. [Studies in Chinese Christianity.] (Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications. 2010. Pp. xii, 239. $28.00 paperback.) 209 210 O THER B OOKS RECEIVED ———. Salt and Light: More Lives of Faith That Shaped Modern China. Vol. 3. [Studies in Chinese Christianity.] (Eugene, OR: Pickwick Publications. 2011. Pp. xvi, 261. $31.00 paperback.) Hart, Mark, and Christopher Cuddy. Zealous: Following Jesus with Guidance from St. Paul. (Cincinnati: Servant Books, an imprint of Franciscan Media. 2014. Pp. xxvi, 180. $15.99.) Heimann, Jean M. Seven Saints for Seven Virtues. (Cincinnati: Servant Books, an imprint of Franciscan Media. 2014. Pp. xviii, 125. $13.99 paperback.) The seven saints are Mother Teresa of Calcutta for charity, St. Agnes for chastity, St. John Paul II for diligence, St. Joseph for humility, St. Catherine of Siena for kindness, St. Monica for patience, and St. Augustine for temperance. Hiroshi, Shibuya, and Chiba Shin (Eds.). Living for Jesus and Japan: The Social and Theological Thought of Uchimura Kanzō. (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing. 2013. Pp. xiv, 223. $25.00 paperback.) Houdek, Diane M. Pope Francis and Our Call to Joy. (Cincinnati: Franciscan Media. 2014. Pp. xx, 75. $9.99 paperback.) Ker, Ian. Newman on Vatican II. (New York: Oxford University Press. 2014. Pp. xii, 167. $40.00 clothbound.) Killeen, Brendan. What Brings a Marriage into Existence? An Historical Re-examination of the Canon Law of the Latin Church. (Scranton, PA: University of Scranton Press. Distrib. University of Chicago Press. 2010. Pp. xviii, 497. $35.00 paperback.) Knirck, Jason. Afterimage of the Revolution: Cumann na nGaedheal and Irish Politics, 1 9 2 2 – 1 9 3 2 . (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. 2014. Pp. xii, 303. $29.95 paperback.) Koester, Craig A. (Ed.). Revelation: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. [Yale Anchor Bible Commentaries, Vol. 38A.] (New Haven: Yale University Press. 2014. Pp. xlii, 881. $125.00 clothbound.) Larsen, Timothy. The Slain God: Anthropologists and the Christian Faith. (New York: Oxford University Press. 2014. Pp. vi, 256. $45.00 clothbound.) The anthropologists are Edward Burnett Tylor, James George Frazer, E. E. Evans-Pritchard, Mary Douglas, and Victor and Edith Turner. Lux-Sterritt, Laurence, and Carmen M. Mangion (Eds.). Gender, Catholicism and Spirituality: Women and the Roman Catholic Church in Britain and Europe, 1 2 0 0 – 1 9 0 0 . [Gender and History.] (New York: Palgrave. 2011. Pp. xvi, 204. $33.50 paperback.) Laurence Lux-Sterritt and Carmen M. Mangion, “Introduction: Gender, Catholicism and Women’s Spirituality over the Longue Durée” (pp. 1–18); 1. Anna Welch, “Presence and Absence: Reading Clare of Assisi in Franciscan Liturgy and Community” (pp. 19–37); 2. Rina Lahav, “Marguerite Porete and the Predicament of her Preaching in FourteenthCentury France” (pp. 38–50); 3. Querciolo Mazzonis, “The Impact of Ren- OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED 211 aissance Gender-Related Notions on the Female Experience of the Sacred: The Case of Angela Merici’s Ursulines” (pp. 51–67); 4. Elizabeth Rhodes, “Teresa de Jesús’s Book and the Reform of the Religious Man in SixteenthCentury Spain” (pp. 68–82); 5. Laurence Lux-Sterritt, “Mary Ward’s English Institute and Prescribed Female Roles in the Early Modern Church” (pp. 83– 98); 6. Jenna Lay, “An English Nun’s Authority: Early Modern Spiritual Controversy and the Manuscripts of Barbara Constable” (pp. 99–114); 7. Marit Monteiro, “Power in Piety: Inspiration, Ambitions and Strategies of Spiritual Virgins in the Northern Netherlands during the Seventeenth Century” (pp. 115–30); 8. Nancy Jiwon Cho, “‘Martyrs of England! Standing on High!’ Roman Catholic Women’s Hymn-writing for the Re-invigoration of the Faith in England, 1850–1903” (pp. 131–48); 9. Kate Stogdon, “Expressions of Self-Surrender in Nineteenth-Century France: The Case of Thérèse Couderc (1805–1885)” (pp. 149–64); 10. Carmen M. Mangion, “The ‘Mixed Life’: Challenging Understandings of Religious Life in Victorian England” (pp. 165–79). McDonough, Kelly S. The Learned Ones: Nahua Intellectuals in Postconquest Mexico. (Tuscon: University of Arizona Press. 2014. Pp. xiv, 260. $55.00 clothbound.) Moore, R. I. The War on Heresy. (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, an imprint of Harvard University Press. 2014. Pp. xiv, 378. $22.50 paperback.) Orig. publ. in 2012 and reviewed by James Given, ante, XCIX (2013), 336–38. Nethercott, Michael. The Haunting Ballad. (New York: Minotaur Books, an imprint of St. Martin’s Press. 2014. Pp. 308. $25.99 clothbound.) O’Brien, William P. (Trans.). Claude La Colombière Sermons. Vol. I: Christian Conduct. (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press. 2014. Pp. xxxiv, 240. $35.00 clothbound.) Twelve sermons that the French Jesuit preached in London in 1676–78. Padovano, Anthony T. The Spiritual Genius of Thomas Merton. (Cincinnati: Franciscan Media. 2014. Pp. xvi, 200. $16.99 paperback.) Pivonka, Dave, T.O.R., and Ralph Poyo. Encounter Jesus: From Discovery to Discipleship. (Cincinnati: Servant Books, an imprint of Franciscan Media. 2014. Pp. viii, 134. $14.99 paperback.) Price, Robert M. Killing History: Jesus in the No-Spin Zone. (Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books. 2014. Pp. 287. $18.00 paperback.) Rohr, Richard. Eager to Love: The Alternative Way of Francis of Assisi. (Cincinnati: Franciscan Media. 2014. Pp. xxii, 294. $21.99 clothbound.) Romero, Jesse. Catholics, Wake Up! Be a Spiritual Warrior. (Cincinnati: Servant Books, an imprint of Franciscan Media. 2014. Pp. viii, 147. $15.99 paperback.) Rosso, Paolo. Negli stalli del coro. I canonici del capitolo cattedrale di Torino (secoli XI– XV). (Bologna: Società Editrice Il Mulino. 2014. Pp. 699. €50,00 paperback.) 212 O THER B OOKS RECEIVED Rutherford, Janet Elaine (Ed.). The Beauty of God’s Presence in the Fathers of the Church: The Proceedings of the Eighth International Patristic Conference, Maynooth, 2012. (Dublin: Four Courts Press. Distrib. ISBS, Portland, OR. 2014. Pp. 288. €55,00 clothbound.) Stein, Joshua B., and Sargon Donabed (Eds.). Religion and the State: Europe and North America in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries. (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, an imprint of Rowman and Littlefield. 2012. Pp. xxii, 197. $85.00 clothbound.) “Introduction: Establishing and Disestablishing Religion in the Atlantic World” by Matthew S. Hedstrom and Brent S. Sirota (pp. xiii– xxii). 1. “Church and State in Early Modern Europe” by James Hitchcock (pp. 1–23); 2. “The Reformed Theologian—The Forgotten Political Theorist? Change and Contest in Theology and Ecclesiology in Late-Sixteenth and Early-Seventeenth-Century Reformed England” by Sara C. Kitzinger (pp. 25–40); 3.“‘The Leviathan Is Not Safely to Be Angered’: The Convocation Controversy, Country Ideology, and Anglican High Churchmanship, 1689– 1702” by Brent S. Sirota (pp. 41–62); 4. “The French Revolution and the Civil Constitution of the Clergy: The Unintentional Turning Point” by Noah Shusterman (pp. 63–72); 5. “The Spanish Legal Solution to the Presence of Religious Symbols in the Public Sphere: A Cautious Evolution from a Catholic Denominational Past to an Effective Secularism” by Rebeca Vázquez Gómez (pp. 73–85); 6. “Church, State, and Capital Punishment in Seventeenth-Century Connecticut” by Lawrence B. Goodheart (pp. 85–106); 7. “Roger Williams, English Law and Religious Tolerance: The Jewish Experience in the Southern New England Colonies, 1677–1798” by Holly Snyder (pp. 107–26); 8. “Oaths and Christian Belief in the New Nation: 1776–1789” by Tara Thompson Strauch (pp. 127–42); 9. “Education, Religion, and the State in Postrevolutionary America” by Keith Pacholl (pp. 143–58); 10. “Fighting over the Founders: Reflection on the Historiography of the Founders’ Faiths” by Matt McCook (pp. 159–74). Sweet, Leonard. Me and We: God’s New Social Gospel. (Nashville: Abingdon Press. 2014. Pp. x, 173. $17.99 paperback.) Talvacchia, Kathleen T., Michael F. Pettinger, and Mark Larrimore (Eds.). Queer Christianities: Lived Religion in Transgressive Forms. (New York: New York University Press. 2014. Pp. viii, 223. $26.00 paperback. Taylor, Patrick. An Irish Doctor in Peace and at War. (New York: Forge Books. 2014. Pp. 414. $24.99 clothbound.) Teske, Roland J., S.J. (Trans.). Henry of Ghent’s Summa of Ordinary Questions, Articles 35, 36, 42, and 45. [Medieval Philosophical Texts in Translation, No. 50.] (Milwaukee: Marquette University Press. 2013. Pp. 179. $20.00 paperback.) Treece, Patricia. The Joyful Spirit of Padre Pio: Stories, Letters, and Prayers. (Cincinnati: Servant Books, an imprint of Franciscan Media. 2014. Pp. viii, 246. $17.99 clothbound.) O THER B OOKS RECEIVED 213 The following books were sent out for review, but no review has been received in spite of two reminders sent to those who had accepted them. Alfeyev, Hilarion (Auth.), and Claire Chernikina (Trans.). L’Orthodoxie, I: Histoire et structures canoniques de l’Église orthodoxe. [Initiations.] (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf. 2009. Pp. 300. €39,00 paperback.) Álvarez, Nicolás de las Asturias (Auth.), and Margherita Scipioni (Trans.). La “Collectio Lanfranci”: Origine e influenza di una collezione della chiesa anglonormanna. [Pontificia Università della Santa Croce, Monografie Giuridiche, 32.] (Milan: Dott. A. Giuffrè Editore S.p.A. 2008. Pp. xiv, 282. €30,00 paperback.) Anderson, Emma. The Betrayal of Faith: The Tragic Journey of a Colonial Native Convert. [Harvard Historical Studies.] (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. 2007. Pp. xiv, 303. $45.00 clothbound.) Armstrong, Regis J., O.F.M. Cap., J. A. Wayne Helleman, O.F.M. Conv., and William J. Short, O.F.M. (Eds.). Such Is the Power of Love: Francis of Assisi as Seen by Bonaventure. (New York: New City Press. 2007. Pp. 283. $19.95 paperback.) Arnold, Claus. Die römische Zensur der Werke Cajetans und Contarinis (1558–1601): Grenzen der theologischen Konfessionalisierung. [Römische Inquisition und Indexkongregation, Band 10.] (Paderborn: Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh. 2008. Pp. 454. €49,90 clothbound.) Baietto, Laura. Il Papa e le Città: Papato e comuni in Italia centro-settentrionale durante la prima metà del secolo XIII. [Istituzioni e Società, Vol. 9.] (Spoleto: Fondazione centro italiano di studi sull’alto medioevo. 2008. Pp. xxiv, 516. €58,00 clothbound.) Basile, Salvatore. Fifth Avenue Famous: The Extraordinary Story of Music at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. (Bronx, NY: Fordham University Press. 2010. Pp. xviii, 354. $29.95 clothbound.) Berglund, Bruce, and Brian Porter-Szűcs. Christianity and Modernity in Eastern Europe. (New York: Central European University Press, an imprint of Central European Share Co. 2010. Pp. xvi, 386. $55.00 clothbound.) Bergunder, Michael. The South Indian Pentecostal Movement in the Twentieth Century. [Studies in the History of Christian Missions.] (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing. 2008. Pp. xii, 380. $40.00 paperback.) Bevans, Stephen B., S.V.D., and Jeffrey Gros, F.S.C. Evangelization and Religious Freedom: Ad Gentes, Dignitatis Humanae. [Rediscovering Vatican II.] (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press. 2009. Pp. xii, 259. $21.95 paperback.) Black, Christopher F. The Italian Inquisition. (New Haven: Yale University Press. 2009. Pp. xviii, 330. $55.00 clothbound.) 214 O THER B OOKS RECEIVED Boesch Gajano, Sofia, and Jacqueline Martin-Bagnaudez (Trans.). Grégoire le Grand hagiographe: Les “Dialogues.” [Cerf Histoire.] (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf. 2008. Pp. 244. €39,00 paperback.) Bowden, John, with Margaret Lydamore and Hugh Bowden. A Chronology of World Christianity. (New York: Continuum. 2007. Pp. xiv, 529. $70.00 clothbound.) Brundage, James A. The Medieval Origins of the Legal Profession: Canonists, Civilians, and Courts. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press. 2008. Pp. xviii, 607. $49.00 clothbound.) Brundin, Abigail, and Matthew Treherne (Eds.). Forms of Faith in Sixteenth-Century Italy. [Catholic Christendom, 1300–1700.] (Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing. 2009. Pp. xiv, 260. $99.95 clothbound.) Burman, Thomas E. Reading the Qur’ān in Latin Christendom, 1140–1560. [Material Texts.] (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. 2007. Pp. viii, 317. $59.95 clothbound.) Byrhtferth of Ramsey (Auth.), and Michael Lapidge (Ed. and Trans.). The Lives of St. Oswald and St. Ecgwine. [Oxford Medieval Texts.] (New York: Oxford University Press. 2009. Pp. civ, 363. $170.00 clothbound.) Chorpenning, Joseph F., O.S.F.S., with Herbert Winklehner, O.S.F.S., and Daniel P. Wisniewski, O.S.F.S. Human Encounter in the Salesian Tradition: Collected Essays Commemorating the 4th Centenary of the Initial Encounter of St. Francis de Sales and St. Jane Frances de Chantal. (Wyndmoor, PA: International Commission for Salesian Studies. 2007. Pp. x, 426. $35.00 clothbound.) Clark, Emily (Ed.). Voices from an Early American Convent: Marie Madeleine Hachard and the New Orleans Ursulines, 1727–1760. (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press. 2007. Pp. xii, 138. $25.00 clothbound.) Collins, Christopher. Homeland Mythology: Biblical Narratives in American Culture. (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press. 2007. Pp. xxiv, 263. $29.95 clothbound.) Costambeys, Marios. Power and Patronage in Early Medieval Italy: Local Society, Italian Politics and the Abbey of Farfa, c. 700–900. [Cambridge Studies in Medieval Life and Thought: Fourth Series, 70.] (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2007. Pp. xvi, 388. $115.00 clothbound.) Courtenay, William J. Ockham and Ockhamism: Studies in the Dissemination and Impact of His Thought. [Studien und Texte zur Geistesgeschichte des Mittelalters, Band 99.] (Leiden: Brill. 2008. Pp. xvi, 420. $186.00 paperback.) Crane, Richard Francis. Passion of Israel: Jacques Maritain, Catholic Conscience, and the Holocaust. (University of Scranton Press; distrib. University of Chicago Press. 2010. Pp. x, 203. $25.00 paperback.) Dolbeau, François, and Robert Favreau (Eds. and Trans.). Saints, clercs et fidèles en Poitou médiévale. [Archives historiques du Poitou, LXV.] (Poitiers: Société des antiquaires de l’Ouest. 2007. Pp. 182. €17,00 paperback.) OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED 215 Englberger, Johann. Albert Behaim und die Lorcher Tradition in der Passauer Geschichtsschreibung: Die Descriptio gentium et diversarum nationum Europae. [Monumenta Germaniae Historica: Schriften, Band 57.] (Hannover: Verlag Hahnsche Buchhandlung. 2007. Pp. xxx, 563. €65,00 clothbound.) Evangelisti, Silvia. Nuns: A History of Convent Life (1450–1700). (New York: Oxford University Press. 2007. Pp. x, 301. $21.95 paperback.) Evans, J. Wyn, and Jonathan M. Wooding (Eds.). St. David of Wales: Cult, Church and Nation. [Studies in Celtic History, XXIV.] (Rochester, NY: Boydell Press. 2008. Pp. xiv, 391. $105.00 clothbound.) Firey, Abigail. A New History of Penance. [Brill’s Companions to the Christian Tradition, Vol. 14.] (Leiden: Brill. 2008. Pp. vii, 463. $200.00 clothbound.) Fredriksen, Paula. Augustine and the Jews: A Christian Defense of Jews and Judaism. (New Haven: Yale University Press. 2010. Pp. xxiv, 503. $20.00 paperback.) Fulton, Elaine. Catholic Belief and Survival in Late Sixteenth-Century Vienna: The Case of Georg Eder (1523–87). [St Andrews Studies in Reformation History.] (Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing. 2007. Pp. xx, 189. $99.95 clothbound.) Griffith, Sidney H. The Church in the Shadow of the Mosque: Christians and Muslims in the World of Islam. [Jews, Christians, and Muslims from the Ancient to the Modern World.] (Princeton: Princeton University Press. 2008. Pp. xvi, 220. $35.00 clothbound.) Guyatt, Nicholas. Providence and the Invention of the United States, 1607–1876. (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2007. Pp. x, 341. $75.00 clothbound.) Hägg, Tomas (Ed.), and Frank Zuber (Trans.). Kirche und Ketzer: Wege und Abwege des Christentums. (Cologne: Böhlau. 2010. Pp. 298. €25,60 clothbound.) Hess, Günter. Der Tod des Seneca: Studien zur Kunst der Imagination in Texten und Bildern des 17. und 18. Jahrhunderts. [Jesuitica, Band 10; Bibliotheca Instituti Historici Societatis Iesu, Vol. 69.] (Regensburg: Verlag Schnell & Steiner; Rome: Institutum Historicum Societatis Iesu. 2009. Pp. 412. €50,00 clothbound.) Hicks, Leonie V. Religious Life in Normandy, 1050–1300: Space, Gender and Social Pressure. [Studies in the History of Medieval Religion, XXXIII.] (Rochester, NY: Boydell Press. 2007. Pp. x, 240. $80.00 clothbound.) Hobbins, Daniel. Authorship and Publicity before Print: Jean Gerson and the Transformation of Late Medieval Learning. [The Middle Ages Series.] (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. 2009. Pp. xii, 335. $49.95 clothbound.) Holifield, E. Brooks. God’s Ambassadors: A History of the Christian Clergy in America. [Pulpit and Pew.] (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing. 2007. Pp. x, 356. $30.00 clothbound.) 216 OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED Houliston, Victor. Catholic Resistance in Elizabethan England: Robert Person’s Jesuit Polemic, 1580–1610. [Catholic Christendom 1300–1700; Bibliotheca Instituti Historici Societatis Iesu, 63.] (Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing. Co-published with Institutum Historicum Societatis Iesu, Rome. 2007. Pp. xvi, 212. $99.95 clothbound.) Hummel, Karl-Joseph, and Christoph Kösters (Eds.). Zwangsarbeit und katholische Kirche 1939–1945. Geschichte und Erinnerung. Entschädigung und Versöhnung. Eine Dokumentation. [Veröffentlichungen der Kommission für Zeitgeschichte. Reihe B, Forschungen. Vol. 110.] (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh. 2008. Pp. 703. €48,00.) Ingram, Robert G. Religion, Reform and Modernity in the Eighteenth Century: Thomas Secker and the Church of England. [Studies in Modern British Religious History, Vol. 17.] (Rochester, NY: Boydell Press. 2007. Pp. xviii, 310. $80.00 clothbound.) Jackson, Nicholas D. Hobbes, Bramhall and the Politics of Liberty and Necessity: A Quarrel of the Civil Wars and Interregnum. [Cambridge Studies in Early Modern British History.] (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2007. Pp. xviii, 331. $99.00 clothbound.) Janes, Dominic. Victorian Reformation: The Fight over Idolatry in the Church of England, 1840–1860. [Religion, Culture, and History.] (New York: Oxford University Press. 2009. Pp. xii, 237. $65.00 clothbound.) Kostick, Conor. The Siege of Jerusalem: Crusade and Conquest in 1099. (New York: Continuum. 2009. Pp. xiv, 211. $29.95 clothbound.) Kuehn, Thomas. Heirs, Kin and Creditors in Renaissance Florence. (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2008. Pp. xviii, 237. $60.00 clothbound.) La cofradía del Corpus de Sepúlveda. Minerva: liturgia, fiesta y fraternidad en el Barroco español: Actas del I Congreso Nacional de Historia de la Cofradías Sacramentales (13, 14 y 15 de abril de 2007, Sepúlveda, Segovia. (Caja Segovia, Spain: La cofradía del Corpus de Sepúlveda. 2008. Pp. 509. €45,76 paperback.) Larson, James L. Reforming the North: The Kingdoms and Churches of Scandinavia, 1520–1545. (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2010. Pp. xvi, 534. $95.00 clothbound.) Loades, David M. The Life and Career of William Paulet (c. 1475–1572): Lord Treasurer and First Marquis of Winchester. (Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing. 2008. Pp. x, 202. $99.95 clothbound.) Loetz, Francisca, and Rosemary Selle (Trans.). Dealings with God: From Blasphemers in Early Modern Zurich to a Cultural History of Religiousness. [St. Andrews Studies in Reformation History.] (Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing. 2009. Pp. viii, 326. $114.95 clothbound.) Lozano, Tomás (Ed.), and Rima Montoya (Trans.). Cantemos al Alba: Origins of Songs, Sounds, and Liturgical Drama of Hispanic New Mexico. (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. 2007. Pp. xxiv, 727. $100.00 clothbound.) OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED 217 Maryks, Robert Aleksander. Saint Cicero and the Jesuits: The Influence of the Liberal Arts on the Adoption of Moral Probabilism. (Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing. 2008. Pp. xiv, 168. $99.95 clothbound.) Massa, Mark, S.J., with Catherine Osborne. American Catholic History: A Documentary Reader. (New York: New York University Press. 2008. Pp. xii, 287. $75.00 clothbound; $25.00 paperback.) Masson, Xavier. Une voix dominicaine dans la cité: Le comportement exemplaire du chrétien dans l’Italie du Trecento d’après le recueil de sermons de Nicoluccio di Ascoli. [Collection “Histoire.”] (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes. 2009. Pp. 398. €22,00 paperback.) McCarthy, T. J. H. Music, Scholasticism and Reform: Salian Germany, 1024–1125. [Manchester Medieval Studies.] (Manchester, UK: Manchester University Press. Distrib. Palgrave, New York. 2009. Pp. xxii, 263. $89.95 clothbound.) Melnyk, Julie. Victorian Religion: Faith and Life in Britain. [Victorian Life and Times.] (Westport, CT: Praeger. 2008. Pp. xviii, 209. $49.95 clothbound.) Meserve, Margaret, and Marcello Simonetta (Eds.). Pius II: Commentaries, Vol. 2, Books III–IV. [The I Tatti Renaissance Library.] (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. 2007. Pp. 416. $29.95 clothbound.) Metselaar, Marijke. Die Nestorianer und der frühe Islam: Wechselwirkungen zwischen den ostsyrischen Christen und ihren arabischen Nachbarn. [Theion. Studien zur Religionskultur, Band XXIII.] (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. 2009. Pp. 92. $33.95 clothbound.) Noonan, F. Thomas. The Road to Jerusalem: Pilgrimage and Travel in the Age of Discovery. [Material Texts.] (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. 2007. Pp. xii, 328. $55.00 clothbound.) Oakley, Francis. Empty Bottles of Gentilism: Kingship and the Divine in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (to 1050). [The Emergence of Western Political Thought in the Latin Middle Ages, Vol. 1.] (New Haven: Yale University Press. 2010. Pp. xiv, 306. $38.00 clothbound.) O’Hara, Matthew D. A Flock Divided: Race, Religion, and Politics in Mexico, 1749– 1857. (Durham: Duke University Press. 2010. Pp. xiv, 318. $84.95 clothbound; $23.95 paperback.) Osborne, Kenan B., O.F.M. The Permanent Diaconate: Its History and Place in the Sacrament of Orders. [The Paulist Press Deacon’s Library.] (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press. 2007. Pp. x, 214. $18.95 paperback.) Parker, Charles H. Faith on the Margins: Catholics and Catholicism in the Dutch Golden Age. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. 2008. Pp. xiv, 31. $49.95 clothbound.) Peachey, Paul. A Usable Past? A Story of Living and Thinking Vocationally at the Margins. (Telford, PA: Cascadia Publishing House. 2008. Pp. 254. $16.95 paperback.) 218 OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED Pfaff, Richard W. The Liturgy in Medieval England: A History. (New York: Cambridge University Press. 2009. Pp. xxviii, 593. $120.00 clothbound.) Provost-Smith, Patrick. Early Modern Christianity. (London: I. B. Tauris. 2009. Pp. 288. $79.99 clothbound.) Purkis, William J. Crusading Spirituality in the Holy Land and Iberia c. 1095–c. 1187. (Rochester, NY: The Boydell Press. 2008. Pp. xii, 215. $90.00 clothbound.) Stanley, Brian. The World Missionary Conference, Edinburgh 1910. [Studies in the History of Christian Missions.] (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing. 2009. Pp. xxii, 352. $45.00 paperback.) Strom, Jonathan, Hartmut Lehmann, and James Van Horn Melton (Eds.). Pietism in Germany and North America 1680–1820. (Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing. 2009. Pp. x, 289. $114.95 clothbound.) Totaro, Giunia (Trans.). L’autobiographie d’Athanasius Kircher: L’écriture d’un jésuite entre vérité et invention au seuil de l’oeuvre. [Liminaires—Passages interculturels italo-ibériques, Vol. 14.] (Bern: Peter Lang. 2009. Pp. xiv, 430. $101.95 paperback.) Valis, Noël. Sacred Realism: Religion and the Imagination in Modern Spanish Narrative. (New Haven: Yale University Press. 2010. Pp. x, 356. $65.00 clothbound.) Vauchez, André (Ed.). I santuari cristiani d’Italia: bilancio del censimento e proposte interpretative. [Collection de l’École Française de Rome, 387.] (Rome: Publications de l’École Française de Rome. 2007. Pp. 376. €45,00 paperback.) The Catholic Historical Review: One Hundred Years of Scholarship on Catholic Missions in the Early Modern World R. PO-CHIA HSIA* The author analyzes the 125 articles published in The Catholic Historical Review between 1915 and the centennial. The first part contextualizes the individual contributions against landmark scholarship in the field of Catholic missions to colonial Latin America and Ming China. The second part presents statistical analyses of the articles by subfields and decades, showing the preponderance of publications in Latin America (48 percent), North America (30 percent), and Asia (12 percent). It concludes with a succinct comparison of the profile of this journal in the field of missions history against other scholarly venues Keywords: missiology, Latin America, Ming China, Mexico, Africa, Islam, religious orders P reaching before a crowd of Jews and Gentiles in Antioch, St. Paul proclaimed: “For so the Lord has commanded us, saying, ‘I have set you to be a light for the Gentiles, that you may bring salvation to the uttermost parts of the earth’” (Acts 13:47). From its beginning, the mission was central to Christianity. In the history of evangelization, the early-modern period (fifteenth to eighteenth centuries) represented the most dynamic phase in the growth of the Roman Church as Catholic missionaries, traveling on Portuguese, Spanish, and French ships, reached the “uttermost parts of the earth.” Even as they were making history, the missionaries were already compiling sources; filing reports; and crafting histories, describing the unfamiliar lands, peoples, and gods encountered, the dangers averted, the successes gained, while narrating the progress of global Christianity. Consequently, the greater part of sources that document the history of the Catholic mission stem necessarily from missionary hands. Often they reflect the con- *Dr. Hsia is the Edwin Erle Sparks Professor of History at Pennsylvania State University, email: rxh46@psu.edu. 223 224 ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF SCHOLARSHIP ON CATHOLIC MISSIONS cerns uppermost in the minds of the Gospel workers: stories of conversion, edifying tales, neophyte piety, heroic martyrdom, wonders and miracles, and the opposition of Satan, reflecting the adventures and subjectivities of different generations of missionaries. At times, the sources speak of ecclesiastical appointments, rivalries between orders, problems in liturgy and doctrine, and matters pertaining to the institution of the Church. Not infrequently, they recorded the geography, biology, economy, politics, language, and culture of the lands, providing a proto-ethnography from which anthropologists of a later century would draw information. Occasionally, the missionaries reported on the momentous political and military events of their lands, giving the first historical accounts of Asia and Africa to readers back in Europe. These writings, in many European languages, are subjective texts that reflect how Catholic missionaries saw the non-Christian world even while they recorded the acts and thoughts of those very missionaries. Much rarer are the other voices. Of the peoples encountered in the missions, some converted, others proved curious, still others hostile, the majority showing a manifest and silent indifference. The peoples in the Americas and Africa seldom recorded their reactions to the strange doctrines preached by these strangers: many lacked a written language prior to their encounter with Europeans; others suffered conquests and destruction of their native texts. In Asia, we hear more indigenous voices from India, Vietnam, the Philippines, China, Korea, and Japan, but the texts that represented the other side of this encounter remain in large measure inaccessible, scattered in manuscripts and sometimes difficult to read. For these reasons, research on the Catholic mission has been lopsided. We have many more biographies of missionaries than those of converts, deeper analysis of missionary techniques (books, translation, music, liturgies) than of conversion experience, and a greater focus on anti-Christian persecutions than on the socioeconomic history of the Catholic mission. But things have been changing, as the discipline of missiology (the study of missionary methods, doctrines, etc.) has yielded to a history of the Christian missions that has important implications for the study of anthropology, ethnography, linguistics, comparative religion, and global history. I exemplify this development through references to four landmark books that address missionary history in colonial Latin America and Ming China written between 1933 and 2007 and further reflect on how trends in scholarship have been reflected in The Catholic Historical Review (CHR). The Spiritual Conquest of Mexico, the 1933 book by French historian of religion Robert Ricard, represented a classic in the field of missionary his- R. PO-CHIA HSIA 225 tory.1 Based on extensive research into the archives of the mendicant orders, Ricard reconstructs a comprehensive picture of the evangelization of the Franciscans, Dominicans, and Augustinians between the conquest of Cortez and 1572, the year when the Society of Jesus was installed in New Spain. Ricard’s thesis, that the Spanish conquest was deeply religious in nature, was borne out by the fact that in 1559, there were eight hundred missionaries in this territory of the Spanish king. Analyzing the points of similarity between native religions and Christianity and the linguistic preparation of the friars, Ricard proceeds to map out the geographical expansion of the Catholic Church in central Mexico. He details the writings of the friars, many of them in Nahuatl and other indigenous languages; describes their attempts to segregate the indigenous populations from contact with Spanish settlers and the Spanish language; and discusses various doctrinal (Eucharistic devotion), cultural (morality plays in indigenous languages), and charitable works (hospitals and schools) of the missionaries. He presents information on the Christian education of native elites while not forgetting to address the problem of native resistance. Ricard also introduces reader to the important work of Bernardino de Sahagun, the Franciscan friar and author of the most important ethnography of sixteenth-century Mexico. Spiritual Conquest not only became a classic in the history of Catholic missions but also would exert a long-lasting influence on the field of Latin American history.2 The focus on the missionaries—especially the mendicants, their writings, and work—in Ricard’s classic reflects the scholarship in Catholic missions published in the CHR in the first sixty years of its existence. The very first article on this theme, by Father Camillus Maes on Flemish Franciscans who worked in New France between 1674 and 1738, appeared in the first issue of the CHR.3 Early articles in the journal focus on two thematic clusters: the institution of the Catholic Church in Spanish America—as in the contributions by Edwin Ryan,4 Julius Klein,5 and 1. La “Conquête spirituelle” du Mexique: Essai sur l’apostolat et les méthodes missionnaires des Ordres mendiants en Nouvelle-Espagne de 1523–24 à 1572 (Paris, 1933). 2. An English translation was published in 1966 by the well-known Mexicanist Lesley Byrd Simpson: The Spiritual Conquest of Mexico: An Essay on the Apostolate and the Evangelizing Methods of the Mendicant Orders in New Spain, 1523–1572 (Berkeley, 1966; repr., 1974). Spanish editions appeared much earlier, the first in 1947, and a second edition, La conquista spiritual de México (Mexico City, 1986; repr., 2005), is still going strong. 3. The Catholic Historical Review (hereafter CHR), 1 (1915), 13–17. 4. “Diocesan Organization in the Spanish Colonies,” CHR, 2 (1916), 146–56; “Ecclesiastical Jurisdiction in the Spanish Colonies,” CHR, 5 (1919), 3–18. 5. “The Church in Spanish American History,” CHR, 3 (1917), 290–307. 226 ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF SCHOLARSHIP ON CATHOLIC MISSIONS Henry G. Doyle6—and the Franciscan and Jesuits missions to California and Baja California—represented by the articles of Herbert Bolton,7 Charles Chapman,8 Oliger Livarius,9 Herbert Priestley,10 and J. Lloyd Mecham.11 Juan de Oñate’s expedition to the Rio Grande was of great interest to American historian Herbert Bolton, who published in the same year an English translation of the account written by the Franciscan friar Francisco de Escobar. The article by Chapman on Jesuits in Baja California establishes the importance of Eusebio Kino and Juan Maria Salvatierra, who attracted the attention of sustained scholarly interest in the following decades. Priestley details the lengthy process of religious colonization that moved from Tenochtitlan northward to California. In 1769, Monterrey and San Diego were chosen as bases of conversion, both to Christianize the indigenous peoples and to check Russian advances south from their furtrading posts. The missions in Northern California were poorly maintained owing to the difficulty of supplies until the late-eighteenth century, when an easier route was discovered to supply the missions from Mexico. In Mecham’s essay, the circumstances are presented surrounding the death of the missionary Juan de Santa Maria in the Sierra Morena in Mexico. This burst of publications in the early issues of the CHR was followed by a steady and more leisurely pace of publications on a diversity of topics in Latin American missionary topics during the next half century. Brazil is covered in Leo Callanan’s study of the Jesuit Antonio Vieira,12 and Manoel Cardozo’s study of lay brotherhoods in Bahia and tithes in Minas Gerais.13 There are studies on Catholic education in Mexico by Gerardo Decorme;14 the origins of the royal patronage of the Indies by J. 6. “Borinquén: Early Days of the Church in Porto Rico,” CHR, 4 (1918), 345–47. 7. “Father Escobar’s Relation of the Oñate Expedition to California,” CHR, 5 (1919), 19–41. Bolton’s translated text is available online at http://archive.org/details/fatherescobarsre00boltrich. 8. Chapman wrote on both Franciscans and Jesuits: “A Great Franciscan in California: Fermin Francisco de Lasuén,” CHR, 5 (1919), 131–55, and “The Jesuits in Baja California, 1697–1768,” CHR, 6, (1920), 46–58. 9. “The Earliest Record on the Franciscan Missions in America,” CHR, 6 (1920), 59– 65. Livarius analyzes the account of the first Franciscan mission in America recorded in Nuremberg between 1506 and 1509 by the Franciscan chronicler Nicholas Glassberger. 10. “Franciscan Exploration of California,” CHR, 6 (1920), 139–55. 11. “The Martyrdom of Father Juan de Santa Maria,” CHR, 6 (1920), 308–32. 12. “Father Antonio Vieira, S.J., in Brazil,” CHR, 10 (1924), 47–67. 13. “The Lay Brotherhoods of Colonial Bahia,” CHR, 33 (1947), 12–30, and “Tithes in Colonial Minas Gerais,” CHR, 38 (1952), 175–82. 14. “Catholic Education in Mexico (1525–1912),” CHR, 12 (1926), 95–105. 15. “The Origins of ‘Real Patronato de Indias,’” CHR, 14 (1928), 205–27. R. PO-CHIA HSIA 227 Lloyd Mecham;15 the beatification of the Jesuit Roque Gonzalez, a Creole martyred in Paraguay during an indigenous uprising by Herbert Thurston;16 and a survey of Catholic missions in Venezuela between 1513 and 1770 by Mary Watters.17 Beginning in 1929, a new research interest is manifest in the CHR: the Catholic mission in colonial North America. John Lenhart argues that Catholic missionaries to the Protestant colonies between 1625 and 1650 preceded the establishment of Maryland,18 whereas other scholars turned their attention to Louisiana, Maryland, and South Carolina.19 Established topics continue to attract scholarship, such as on missions to Florida by Charles Spellman and Robert Matter,20 and on the Jesuit reductions in Paraguay, as represented by the article of John Grob.21 Asunción Lavrin’s article on female monasticism in colonial Mexico points in still another new direction, the greater interest in female religiosity in the missionary and colonial contexts.22 Here the question of race distinguished Latin American monasticism from Catholic Europe. Indigenous women were excluded from joining convents until 1724, and then only those from the principal noble families. Lavrin’s article also discusses the exceptional figure of Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, who would become a figure in attracting considerable attention. Interest in the indigenous experience of Catholic conversion grew rapidly during the 1970s and ’80s , represented in the CHR by Ernest Burrus’s contribution on Augustinian friar Alonso de la Vera Cruz, an outspoken 16. “The First Beatified Martyr of Spanish America: Blessed Roque Gonzalez (1576– 1628),” CHR, 20 (1935), 371–83. 17. “The Colonial Missions in Venezuela,” CHR, 23 (1937), 129–52. 18. John Lenhart, “An Important Chapter in American Church History (1625–1650),” CHR, 14 (1929), 500–24. 19. John Delanglez, “A French Bishop for Louisiana (1722–1763),” CHR, 20 (1935), 411–19; Ives J. Moss, “The Catholic Contribution to Religious Liberty in Colonial America,” CHR, 21 (1935), 283–98; Michael V. Gannon, “Sebastian Montero, Pioneer American Missionary, 1566–1572,” CHR, 51 (1965), 335–53; and John D. Krugler, “Lord Baltimore, Roman Catholics, and Toleration: Religious Policy in Maryland during the Early Catholic Years, 1634–1649,” CHR, 65 (1979), 49–75. 20. Charles Spellman, “‘The Golden Age’ of the Florida Missions, 1632–1674,” CHR, 51 (1965), 354–72; Robert Allen Matter, “Mission Life in Seventeenth-Century Florida,” CHR, 67 (1981), 401–20. 21. “Antonio Ruiz de Montoya and the Early Reductions in the Jesuit Province of Paraguay,” CHR, 56 (1970), 501–33. 22. “Values and Meaning of Monastic Life for Nuns in Colonial Mexico,” CHR, 58 (1972), 367–87. 228 ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF SCHOLARSHIP ON CATHOLIC MISSIONS defender of indigenous rights in mid-sixteenth-century Mexico.23 In his study on “spiritual conquests,” Ricard did not ignore the repressive aspects of sixteenth-century Catholic missions in Mexico: the friars destroyed native temples, burned Nahuatl manuscripts, and condemned native rites, and the successive “conquests” were achieved not without continued resistance. Nevertheless, Ricard concluded that Catholic conversion was on the whole a success and that the friars acted out of good intentions, representing on balance a positive force in ameliorating the harshness of the Spanish conquest. Until the late 1980s, these conclusions were questioned here and there by scholars, but they were not radically and fundamentally challenged. In 1987, the book Ambivalent Conquest changed all that. Written by Australian anthropologist Inga Clendinnen, Ambivalent Conquests: Maya and Spaniard in Yucatán, 1517–1570, offered a new paradigm in the field of missionary history.24 Instead of seeing Catholic conversion through the eyes of missionaries, Clendinnen offered perspectives from both the Spanish and Mayan sides. A central idea in her work is the “confusion of tongues,” meaning literally the difficulty and reluctance of learning Mayan on the part of the Spanish explorers and friars, and the inadequacies of neologisms in Mayan missionary texts to represent the fullness of Catholic doctrines. The story of colonization and evangelization in the Yucatan during the second half of the sixteenth century was one of misunderstanding and violence. If Spanish military power subjugated the bodies of the Mayans, Christianity only gained a superficial allegiance in Clendinnen’s interpretation. In a regime of coercion, dissimulation was the norm. Outwardly observing Christian rites, the Mayans hid their allegiance to their ancestral religion from the watchful eyes of the friars, including, possibly, the practice of human sacrifice. The discovery of purported sites of this rite in the 1580s infuriated the Franciscan protectors of the Mayans. Diego da Landa, Superior of the Friars Minor in the Yucatan, exploded in a rage of anger and cruelty, applied with secular violence against the arrested and alleged perpetrators of this cult. Over time, coercion succeeded in consolidating the “spiritual conquests.” But Clendinnen argued that the profound Catholicism of the Mayans reflected a highly 23. “Alonso de la Vera Cruz (+1584), Pioneer Defender of the American Indians,” CHR, 70 (1984), 531–46. 24. Published by Cambridge University Press in 1987; reprinted in 2003. Technically, it is a second edition (although no changes appear to have been made in the main text; just a new preface was added). But the reader would benefit from being referred to the collected essays of this remarkable scholar: Inga Clendinnen, The Cost of Courage in Aztec Society: Essays on Mesoamerican Society and Culture (New York, 2010). R. PO-CHIA HSIA 229 syncretic religion, blending their ancestral customs with selected Catholic teachings and rituals to create a culture of resistance and survival. While Clendinnen’s study exerted a significant impact in the field of Latin American history, its importance is less clear in the pages of the CHR. After 1987, a more traditional ecclesiastical approach is still strong among articles in the journal on colonial Latin America and includes studies on the establishment of the Mexican Church under Bishop Juan de Zumarraga,25 on humanist works found in sixteenth-century libraries of New Spain,26 and on the Tridentine reforms introduced by Bishop Juan de Palafox y Mendoza.27 The article by Elisa Alcaide extends the investigation of the classic topics of church history into the eighteenth century and analyzes the Spanish American church councils of the eighteenth century as examples of the reforms of the Bourbon monarchy under Charles III.28 Meanwhile, other studies turn to the study of race, the indigenous experience, and the discourse on the Native American. The question of race determined the composition of the clergy in Spanish America. In analyzing the 1624–28 dispute in Peru, Patricia Hyland traces the vacillations in the policy of ordaining mestizos to the priesthood. In 1624, Bishop Vergudo declared that the majority of priests in Huamanga, Peru, being mestizos and thus by definition illegitimate, were not validly ordained.29 This declaration, contrary to two previous papal bulls that allowed American bishops to raise illegitimate men to the priesthood, met with strong resistance and was reversed by the Council of the Indies in 1628. Hyland traces this controversy to the First and Third Mexican provincial councils, which forbade the acceptance of Native Americans and mestizos into the religious orders. She also points out the inconsistency in crown policy, accepting mestizos into the clergy in 1588 while upholding illegitimacy as a barrier in 1594, thus effectively barring many mestizos to a clerical career. 25. Antonine Tibesar, “The King and the Pope and the Clergy in the Colonial Spanish-American Empire,” CHR, 75 (1989), 91–109. 26. Michael W. Mathes, “Humanism in Sixteenth- and Seventeenth-Century Libraries of New Spain,” CHR, 82 (1996), 412–35. 27. Michael M. Brescia, “Liturgical Expressions of Episcopal Power: Juan de Palafox y Mendoza and Tridentine Reform in Colonial Mexico,” CHR, 90 (2004), 497–518. 28. Elisa Luque Alcaide, “Reformist Currents in the Spanish-American Councils of the Eighteenth Century,” CHR, 91 (2005), 743–60. 29. Quincy D. Newell, “‘The Indians Generally Love Their Wives and Children’: Native American Marriage and Sexual Practices in Missions San Francisco, Santa Clara, and San José,” CHR, 91 (2005), 60–82. Sabine Patricia Hyland, “Illegitimacy and Racial Hierarchy in the Peruvian Priesthood: A Seventeenth-Century Dispute,” CHR, 84 (1998), 431–54. 230 ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF SCHOLARSHIP ON CATHOLIC MISSIONS In Quincy Newell’s article, missionary sources are used to reconstruct Native American attitudes and practices regarding sex and marriage in central California. This is a good example of an anthropological and ethnological reading of missionary sources in order to highlight different indigenous and missionary perceptions of gift exchange in marriages and indigenous practices (homosexuality, polygamy, and divorce) condemned by the missionaries. Finally, the latest publication in the CHR on the Catholic mission in Spanish America looks at a classic question with a fresh perspective. Greg Murry offers a discursive analysis of the writings of Las Casas and José Acosta in a larger reflection of the Catholic mission in Spanish colonies.30 Turning from Latin America to another part of the world, the scholarship on Catholic missions to China has also shown remarkable changes in the century during the existence of the CHR. To illustrate this trend, I compare two primary sources related to the Jesuit mission to China, one published in 1942 and the second in 2007. The first work, Louis Gallagher’s edition of the journals of Matteo Ricci, offered the first major English-language source for the study of the earliest Jesuit mission to latesixteenth-century China.31 Gallagher was himself a Jesuit, and the copyrights of this translation, reprinted once in 1953, are still held by the New England Province of the Society of Jesus.32 The translation was from the 1615 Latin work De Christiana Expeditione apud Sinas, “authored” by Nicolas Trigault, a Jesuit missionary who arrived in China in 1611, the year after the death of Ricci the great pioneer. In 1614, Trigault served as the procurator for the new vice province of China and traveled back to Europe to raise funds and recruit new workers for the China mission. The Belgian took Ricci’s Italian manuscript with him, edited and translated it into Latin en route, and published it to great acclaim in Europe.33 The Latin work De Christiana Expeditione apud Sinas bears a strong editorial hand from Trigault, who felt entitled to call himself “author.” Meanwhile, 30. Greg Murry, “Tears of the Indians or Superficial Conversion? Jose Acosta, the Black Legend, and Spanish Evangelization in the New World,” CHR, 99 (2013), 29–51. 31. Louis J. Gallagher, The China That Was: China as Discovered by the Jesuits at the Close of the 16th Century (Milwaukee, 1942). 32. The reprint appeared under the title China in the Sixteenth Century: The Journals of Matthew Ricci: 1583–1610 (New York, 1953). 33. The full title is De Christiana Expeditione apud Sinas: Suscepta ab Societate Iesu ex P. Matthaei Ricii eiusdem societatis commentariis libri V ad S.D.N. Paulum V in quibus Sinensis Regni mores, leges, atque institute, & novae illius Ecclesiae difficillima primordia accurate & summa fide describuntur (Augsburg, 1615). R. PO-CHIA HSIA 231 Ricci’s manuscript, which was kept in the Roman Archive of the Society of Jesus, was not brought to the attention of the scholarly world until the publication of Pasquale D’Elia’s incomparable three-volume edition between 1942 and 1949.34 While providing a good English translation, Gallagher’s edition of Ricci has little scholarly value. None of the many Chinese interlocutors with the Jesuit missionary is identified, and the volume lacks a critical apparatus to explain places and events. In short, it places the missionary hero squarely in the center of a historic and exotic stage, and the Chinese personages assume the role of supporting actors. The publication of Jacques Gernet’s Chine et Christianisme in 1982 seriously challenged the image of the Jesuit cultural hero.35 The eminent French Sinologist argued that Chinese culture and language are fundamentally incompatible with the linguistic and logical assumptions of Christian doctrines; the Jesuit enterprise, however successful it might have seemed at first glance, was doomed to failure because of this essential cultural incompatibility. Gernet’s thesis has provoked a lively debate.36 Many scholars of the Catholic mission to China began paying closer attention to Chinese-language sources and to Chinese actors in order to question Gernet’s basic assumptions. Since the 1980s, Chinese, Taiwanese, and European scholars have collaborated in the systematic publication of Chinese-language writings related to the Catholic mission that are extant in European and Chinese libraries and archives. The distance traveled since the publication of Gallagher’s translation can be measured by a recent source edition, translated and edited by the late Erich Zürcher, the eminent Sinologist at the University of Leiden.37 The book Kouduo richao: Li Jiubiao’s Diary of Oral Admonitions, A Late Ming Christian Journal represents a milestone in the study of Catholic missions. A Christian convert in the early-seventeenth century, Li Jiubiao and his brother Li Jiugong came from the small town of Haikou on the central Fujian coast. They had been baptized in Fuzhou by the Italian Jesuit 34. Pasquale D’Elia, ed., Fonti Ricciane: Matteo Ricci. Storia dell’introduzione del Cristianesimo in Cina, 3 vols. (Rome, 1942–49). 35. Jacques Gernet, Chine et Christianisme: La première confrontation (Paris, 1982). English translation: China and the Christian Impact: A Conflict of Cultures (New York, 1985). 36. Gernet has replied to his critics in a revised edition of this work: Chine et Christianisme. La première confrontation. Édition revue et corrigée (Paris, 1991). 37. Erich Zürcher, trans., Kouduo richao: Li Jiubiao’s Diary of Oral Admonitions. A Late Ming Christian Journal, 2 vols. (Sankt Augustin, 2007). 232 ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF SCHOLARSHIP ON CATHOLIC MISSIONS FIGURE 1. Catholic mission content in CHR (by geographic area) Giulio Aleni (1582–1649), who arrived in China in 1611, one year after the death of the founder of the Jesuit Mission, Matteo Ricci. A native of Brescia, Italy, Aleni spent the most fruitful years of his missionary work in Fujian province, where he acquired the reputation as “the most learned Jesuit after Ricci” and the sobriquet of “Confucius from the West.” Like many, the Li brothers considered themselves Aleni’s disciples. The Diary of Oral Admonitions is the record of the teachings of the Jesuit master Aleni (together with some entries on three other Jesuit missionaries: Andrzej Rudomina, Bento de Mattos, and Simão da Cunha), compiled primarily by Li Jiubiao with the collaboration of other Aleni disciples. Kouduo richao is a unique and difficult text. It is the only substantive source of the interaction between Chinese converts of the late Ming and European missionaries, covering, in snatches of recording, their conversations and activities just over a period of ten years (1630–40). As such, it offers an invaluable and intimate perspective into the practice of the early Jesuit China Mission. It is also a difficult source to use, however, not only because of the fragmentary and disparate nature of the recordings (Aleni’s different travels, conversational topics ranging from astronomy to confession), but also because of the large number of interlocutors present in the work: a total of ninety-eight Chinese interlocutors, of whom seventy-three were converts and twenty-five interested or sympathetic nonbelievers. Zürcher writes a long introduction of 167 pages that analyzes formally the text; he identifies, to the extent possible, the interlocutors and events R. PO-CHIA HSIA 233 FIGURE 2. Catholic mission content in CHR (with Americas split) recorded, and discusses in insightful detail the missionaries, the converts, the outsiders, the doctrines, the rituals, and the sociocultural background of the Fujian mission that formed the background to Kouduo richao. In this endeavor, Zürcher has provided perhaps the fullest and best testimony of the early-modern global Catholic mission from the perspective of the converts, not the missionary or the European, but the indigenous. It will have a lasting impact on research. While there are few articles on China (and Asia in general) in the pages of the CHR, the contributions have been by leading scholars in the field. In 1961, George Dunne, Jesuit historian and author of a celebrated study of the first generations of Jesuits in China, discussed the 1615 voyage by Nicolas Trigault to Europe, which was the occasion, as we have seen, of the publication of the Latin translation of Ricci’s memoirs. Trigault’s task in Rome was to obtain an independent status for the Jesuit China Mission and to obtain papal approval for a Chinese-language liturgy and the recruitment of a Chinese clergy. The Jesuit was successful on all three counts, although there was strong opposition from the Jesuits in Japan, who pursued a different missionary strategy.38 While the Jesuits in Japan, 38. George H. Dunne, “What Happened to the Chinese Liturgy?” CHR, 47 (1961), 1–14. Dunne is the author of Generation of Giants: The Story of the Jesuits in China in the Last Decades of the Ming Dynasty (South Bend, IN, 1962). 234 ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF SCHOLARSHIP ON CATHOLIC MISSIONS FIGURE 3. Catholic mission content in CHR (Latin America) under Portuguese leadership, opposed the ordination of Japanese and kept them in subaltern positions, their fellow missionaries in China were pursuing a strategy based on “cultural imperative,” as Erik Zürcher argues in his contribution to the CHR.39 Zürcher argues that the Jesuits in Ming China accepted the Chinese cultural imperative, namely, that the Confucian doctrine of the Lord of Heaven, which was considered compatible with Christian teaching, would form a core doctrine in their evangelization. Drawing upon texts written by literati Chinese converts, Zürcher explores “how Christian, personal religiosity related to the religious dimension of Confucianism.” Scholarship in the CHR on Catholic missions to Asia focuses overwhelmingly on the Jesuits. In addition to the articles by Dunne and Zürcher, Jean-Paul Wiest has written a comparison between the early Jesuit mission to China with that of the nineteenth- and twentieth-century Jesuit enterprise, contrasting the cultural sensitivity of the former with the chauvinism of the latter.40 Anna Peck contributes an original and fascinating study of the Jesuit mission in Siberia between 1812 and 1820, when the 39. “Confucian and Christian Religiosity in Late Ming China,” CHR, 83 (1997), 614–53. 40. “Bringing Christ to the Nations: Shifting Models of Mission among Jesuits in China,” CHR, 83 (1997), 654–81. R. PO-CHIA HSIA 235 FIGURE 4. Catholic mission content in CHR (Asia) Fathers attempted to restore their China mission through the Russian Far East.41 Extending beyond China, based on the annual letters written in 1681–82 by the Jesuit Emmanuel de Solórzano, William Repetti has written two articles on the Jesuit mission in the Marianas Islands, which lay on the route of the Acapulco-Manila galleons that connected Spanish Mexico and the Philippines.42 Similar to Ricci’s work in China, Jesuit Alexandre de Rhodes also privileged mathematics and science in his evangelization of seventeenth-century Vietnam, as Barbara Maggs argues in her contribution.43 In the case of Africa, the few articles published in the CHR deal mostly with North Africa, namely, the issues of Christian slavery and Christian hospitals, aspects of the larger historical context of warfare between Christendom and Islam in the early-modern Mediterranean. The one study on a Portuguese chronicler reflects both the indispensability of 41. “Between Russian Reality and Chinese Dream: The Jesuit Mission in Siberia, 1812–1820,” CHR, 87 (2001), 17–33. 42. “The Beginnings of Catholicity in the Marianas Islands,” CHR, 31 (1946), 431– 37, and “Conditions in Guam in 1678,” CHR, 32 (1947), 430–34. 43. Barbara Widenor Maggs, “Science, Mathematics, and Reason: The Missionary Methods of the Jesuit Alexandre de Rhodes in Seventeenth-Century Vietnam,” CHR, 86 (2000), 439–58. 236 ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF SCHOLARSHIP ON CATHOLIC MISSIONS FIGURE 5. Catholic mission content in CHR (by subcategory) Portuguese-language sources and the paucity of studies on the Catholic mission in that continent.44 Finally, to round up our survey of scholarship on the early-modern Catholic mission, two articles point to the current concerns to study Catholic missions in a global perspective, as John Donnelly states in his article on Antonio Possevino and world evangelization, and in Glenn Ames’s analysis of the balance between economic and religious priorities in Portuguese India.45 44. William E. Wilson, “A Note on Christian Captives in North Africa,” CHR, 28 (1943), 491–98; Hilmar C. Krueger, “Reactions to the First Missionaries in Northwest Africa,” CHR, 32 (1946), 275–301; Manoel Cardozo, “The Idea of History in the Portuguese Chroniclers of the Age of Discovery,” CHR, 49 (1963), 1–19; Ann M. Pescatello, “The ‘Leyenda Negra’ and the African in Sixteenth- and Seventeenth-Century Iberian Thought,” CHR, 66 (1980), 169–83; and Ellen G. Friedman, “Trinitarian Hospitals in Algiers: An Early Example of Health Care for Prisoners of War,” CHR, 66 (1980), 551–64. 45. John Patrick Donnelly, “Antonio Possevino’s Plan for World Evangelization,” CHR, 74 (1988), 179–98, and Glenn J. Ames, “Serving God, Mammon, or Both? Religious vis-à-vis Economic Priorities in the Portuguese ‘Estado da India,’ c. 1600–1700,” CHR, 86 (2000), 193–216. R. PO-CHIA HSIA 237 FIGURE 6. Catholic mission content in CHR (totals by geographic area) The number of articles on missionary history published in the CHR shows an interesting pattern. Between the first founding issue and January 2013, the CHR has published 125 articles on the theme of Catholic missions in the early-modern period between the sixteenth and early-nineteenth centuries. It shows fifteen to sixteen essays published every decade during the first forty years of the CHR’s centennial (1910–50). The following three decades (1950–70) saw a steep dip, dropping to a low of three articles during the 1950s before a recovery in the 1980s with ten articles published. The level of fifteen to sixteen articles was regained in the 1990s, and the trend seems to be holding. An analysis of the 125 articles on missionary history in the earlymodern period (sixteenth to early-nineteenth centuries) in the CHR shows another clear pattern: there is a preponderance of research on Latin America and North America (see figure 1). Until 1940, all articles on Catholic missions in the CHR dealt with the Americas. In the 1940s, the CHR published the first articles on Asia and the Islamic world (two each), but the Americas remained the focus (twelve out of sixteen articles; see figures 2 and 3). The doldrums of the mid-century only reinforce the established pattern. Of the seventeen articles on missions between 1950 and 1979, only three do not treat an American subject. The last decades of the twentieth century see a greater diversity, but the Americas still dominate (five out of ten in the 1980s, eleven out of sixteen in the 1990s, and nine out of 238 ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF SCHOLARSHIP ON CATHOLIC MISSIONS FIGURE 7. Catholic mission content in CHR (totals, with Latin America) fifteen between 2000 and 2009). Of the other global regions, there are only five articles on missions to the Islamic world and three on Catholic missions in early-modern Africa during the entire century. Asia fares better, with fifteen publications, and interest in this region seems to have picked up since the 1980s (see figure 4). Another way of representing these statis- FIGURE 8. Catholic mission content in CHR (all subcategories) R. PO-CHIA HSIA 239 FIGURE 9. Catholic mission content in CHR (by Latin American region) tics is by percentages: in aggregate, 48 percent of all CHR articles on earlymodern Catholic missions deal with Latin America, 30 percent deal with North America, 12 percent with Asia, 4 percent with the Islamic world, and 2 percent with Africa (see figures 5–7) . When we examine the subcategories within each regional grouping, more patterns emerge (see figure 8). For Latin America (see figure 9), almost two thirds (62 percent) of all articles concern New Spain (Mexico) and the Caribbean (missions to Florida in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries are included in this subcategory), whereas only a small number (5 percent) are devoted to Brazil. In the category of North FIGURE 10. Catholic mission content in CHR (by Asian region) 240 ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF SCHOLARSHIP ON CATHOLIC MISSIONS FIGURE 11. Catholic mission content in CHR (non-Americas) America, several topics feature prominently, namely, the Franciscan missions in California, religious toleration and Protestant fears in Catholic Maryland, and the French Catholic presence in Louisiana. For Asia (see figure 10), the largest number of articles deals with China, followed by India and Southeast Asia, but the numbers here are small and the differences not great. There are several conclusions to be drawn from these quantitative data. First, in its century of publication, the CHR has functioned as the primary organ for the study of Catholicism in colonial North America and an important outlet for the study of Catholic missions in colonial Latin America. Until the last two decades, there has been little interest in Catholic missions to other parts of the world with notable weaknesses in the representation of scholarship on the Islamic and African worlds (see figure 11). It is legitimate to ask whether these statistics in the CHR reflect the larger trends of the field. While both the paucity and difficulty of sources limit research on Catholic missions to early-modern Africa and the Islamic world, the same cannot be said for the history of Catholic missions to Asia. The first important apostle, St. Francis Xavier, has been the subject of important historical research. For the Jesuit mission to sixteenth-century India, Franz Schurhammer and Josef Wicki have done incomparable work. The Jesuits, Dominicans, Franciscans, and the priests of the Missions Étrangères de Paris have all made significant contributions to the publication of sources regarding their respective missions in Ming and Qing R. PO-CHIA HSIA 241 China.46 A cursory perusal of the contents of the Neue Zeitschrift für Missionswissenschaft, which ceased publication in 2004, reveals a more balanced geographical coverage in that journal for early-modern Catholic missions, which has attracted international attention thanks to the quality of its publications and its ecumenical perspective. As the most important journal for Catholic history in the United States, The Catholic Historical Review has been a significant forum for the study of the history of American Catholicism while providing a window into missionary histories for other regions of the world. In celebrating the centennial of its existence, we look forward to the continuing globalization in its pages. 46. See for examples, José María González, Historia de las Misiones Dominicanas de China, 5 vols. (Madrid, 1967); the letters of Franciscan missionaries in China published in the series Sinica Franciscana, in which eleven volumes have been published between 1929 and 2006; for the Jesuits there are a large number of printed sources, see, for specific titles, Handbook of Christianity in China. Vol. 1: 635–1800, ed. Nicolas Standaert (Leiden, 2001), pp. 163–74; for the Missions Étrangères de Paris, see Adrien Launay, ed., Lettres de Monseigneur Pallu, 2 vols. (Paris, 1904). “National and Universal”: Nineteenth- and Twentieth-Century Catholic Missions and World Christianity in The Catholic Historical Review ANGELYN DRIES, O.S.F.* The Catholic Historical Review initially focused on Catholic Church history in the United States, but the purpose soon expanded to the “larger domain of church history, both national and universal.” This examination of the journal since its first issue highlights the treatment of mission history and sketches the relationship between missions and world Christianity. Keywords: mission history, world Christianity, anthropology, Latin America, ecumenism T he Catholic Historical Review (CHR) began as a locus for the study of Catholic Church history in the United States. By 1921, the purpose had expanded to “venture forth into the larger domain” in the field and problems of church history, “both national and universal.”1 Thomas A. Shahan, rector of The Catholic University of America (CUA), had earlier given a theological turn to a broader historical perspective by noting that “historical science and the historiography of all nations were profoundly affected by the truths of the Gospel.”2 Peter Guilday’s address at the American Catholic Historical Association’s (ACHA) founding in 1919 quoted Justin Winsor as applicable to a comparable situation: “Our proposed name, though American by title, is not intended to confine our observation to this continent. We are to be simply American students devoting ourselves to historical subjects, without limitation in time or *Sister Angelyn is a professor emerita in the Department of Theological Studies at Saint Louis University, e-mail: driesa@slu.edu. The author is grateful to Professor William L. Portier, University of Dayton; Professor Steven M. Avella, Marquette University; and the anonymous CHR reviewers for their remarks and insights on a draft of this article. 1. Patrick W. Browne, “Retrospect and Prospect,” The Catholic Historical Review (hereafter CHR), 7 (1921), 4. 2. Thomas J. Shahan, “Spirit of the Catholic Historical Review,” CHR, 1 (1915), 4– 12, here 4. 242 ANGELYN DRIES, O.S.F. 243 place.”3 A walk through selected articles and reviews in the CHR to analyze its treatment of nineteenth- and twentieth-century Catholic missions and world Christianity demonstrates a gradual geographic expansion in the treatment of Catholic history and unfolds the effects of a dynamic interaction between local and global (not just European) movements. One of the results of the interaction is that periodization relates both to North American and global developments. Beneath the historical topics is often an expressed or assumed ecclesiological framework from which writers engaged their subjects, at least through the 1970s. The United States as a Mission Church, 1884–1908 A look at the situation of the missionary church within the United States in the last quarter of the nineteenth century illustrates the diverse mission challenges episcopal leaders faced. By that time, missionaries— especially from France, Belgium, Germany, and to a lesser extent Spain— had worked with their compatriots in the New World and with Native Americans. The country west of the Mississippi had vast amounts of land that were territories, including the land considered “Indian territory,” which eventually became Oklahoma. When the bishops assembled at what proved to be the nationally formative Third Plenary Council of Baltimore (1884), they were cognizant of the considerable growth of the Catholic Church since the 1866 Second Plenary Council of Baltimore and identified the myriad pastoral issues of the day: provision for an increased number of immigrants;4 Catholic literature for adults, including acquisition of a Bible for every family library; the education of seminarians; the need for Catholic schools; the evangelization of “Indians and Negroes”; home and foreign missions; and missions for parish and personal renewal,5 the latter conducted mainly by Redemptorists, Jesuits, and Paulists. The council met from November 9 to December 7, 1884. In addition to the bishops’ deliberations and decisions during that time, devotions and 3. Peter Guilday, “The American Catholic Historical Association,” CHR, 6 (1920), 3– 14, here 8. Winsor’s remarks were given at a preliminary meeting of the American Historical Association on September 9, 1884. 4. Literature on missions to immigrant groups in North America has grown, beginning with Gerald Shaughnessy, Has the Immigrant Kept the Faith? A Study of Immigration and Catholic Growth in the United States, 1790–1920 (New York, 1925), with expansion from the 1970s to the present. 5. Discussion of the element is found later in Jay Dolan, Catholic Revivalism: The American Experience, 1830–1900 (Notre Dame, IN, 1978), reviewed by John V. Mentag in CHR, 66 (1980), 124–25. 244 “NATIONAL AND U NIVERSAL” sermons on related topics took place in the evening for area Catholics. Sermons in German were given at St. Alphonsus Church, while sermons in English were preached at the cathedral during several weekday evenings for the duration of council. A Belgian missionary, Charles John Seghers, archbishop of Oregon City (1839–86), who had worked with Indians in Alaska for many years, gave an especially challenging sermon on “Indian Missions.” “While early missionaries to the Americas were, by and large, eager to undertake the conversion of ‘the aborigines of America,’” Seghers posed the question to his audience: “Has the white race done justice to the red man?” He continued, “We are in possession of the red man’s country, we occupy his hunting ground, we are masters of the soil where his wigwam stood. . . . But, have we communicated to him the light of the Gospel that is in us?” Referencing the prophet Daniel’s Angel of the Persians and Greeks, the missionary challenged his audience: “Behold the Angel of the Indian race: he points to the soil of this continent, bleached with his bones, red with the blood and black with the ruins of a destroyed race.”6 Seghers’s perspective would come to the fore among some historians sixty years later. Bishop William H. Gross of Savannah, at St. Alphonsus Church, preached on “Missions for Coloured People.” He alluded to their “forebears in Africa with its fetishes and darkness,” and portrayed a need for their “elevation to the highest point of morality.”7 The bishops approved a national collection for what is today called the Black and Indian Missions, and at the 1884 Plenary Council had noted: “The heart of every true Catholic must glow as he reads of the heroic labors of our missionaries among the heathen nations in every part of the world, and especially among the Indian tribes of our country.”8 1 . North American Missionary Martyrs In 1884, the Jesuits presented and had approved a request to the bishops at the Third Plenary Council to purchase land in Auriesville, New 6. “Indian Missions,” in The Memorial Volume: A History of the Third Plenary Council of Baltimore, November–December 7, 1884 (Baltimore, 1885), pp. 114–19, here pp. 114–15. Shortly after the council, Seghers was appointed bishop in the Diocese of Vancouver in order to work with Alaskan Indians. He was murdered two years after the council by an emotionally unstable Anglo guide in Alaska. He was forty-six years of age. 7. William H. Gross, “Missions for Colored People,” in Memorial Volume, pp. 71–74, here p. 74. 8. “Pastoral Letter Issued by the Third Plenary Council of Bishops, December 7, 1885,” in Pastoral Letters of the United States Catholic Bishops, vol. 1, 1792–1940, ed. Hugh J. Nolan (Washington, DC, 1983), para. 69, p. 238. ANGELYN DRIES, O.S.F. 245 York, the location that Dr. John Gilmary Shea and General John S. Clark determined as the site of Ossernenon. Clark was of Seneca extraction, an engineer, topographer, and Civil War veteran. The area was a former Iroquois village along the Mohawk River Valley, where René Goupil and Isaac Jogues had been martyred. The place immediately became a pilgrimage site to honor the Jesuit North American martyrs and Native American Kateri Tekakwitha. Between 1896 and 1901, the seventy-three-volume English translation of Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents appeared in print, edited by Reuben Gold Thwaites (1853–1913) of the State Historical Society of Wisconsin.9 In that source, Jogues’s letter to his superior described Goupil’s death and Jogues’s efforts to locate and bury the body of the lay missionary. Edna Kenton edited a selection of the Jesuit Relations in time for the beatification of the North American Jesuit Martyrs in 1925.10 John J. Wynne, S.J. (1859–1948), who advocated relentlessly for forty years for their canonization and who devised their title as “North American Martyrs” to stress the cross-border connection with Canada, published his Shrine of the North American Martyrs, which, the reviewer noted, “preserves the spirit and tradition of the Jesuit Relations.” But, as Justice Dowling remarked at the shrine’s dedication, the men should be “recognized as models not only of Christian virtue, but also of fidelity to duty, of fortitude and courage, and of the virtues which should appeal to us as citizens.”11 The suggested pattern of holiness for Catholic Americans involved immersion in civic life. Furthermore, Wynne engaged Protestants across the country at local events to underline the historical and civic value of the martyrs. 9. Reuben Gold Thwaites, ed., The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents: Travels and Explorations of the Jesuit Missionaries in New France, 1610–1791 (Cleveland, 1896–1901). 10. J. F. L. review of Edna Kenton, ed., Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents, in CHR, 12 (1926), 491–94. 11. Patrick W. Browne, review of John J. Wynne, Jesuit Martyrs of North America (Auriesville, 1925), CHR, 11 (1926), 735–38, here 738. John J. Wynne, S.J., “Miscellany: Shrine of the North American Martyrs,” CHR, 11 (1925), 443–44. For the location and overview of the Wynne papers relevant to his pursuance of the martyrs’ canonization (the National Shrine of North American Martyrs, Auriesville, New York, and the Special Collections and University Archives of Marquette University), see Michael F. Lombardo, “Notes and Comment,” CHR, 99 (2013), 189–91. For Wynne’s approach and prodigious efforts to have North American support for the martyrs’ canonization, see Emma Anderson, The Death and Afterlife of the North American Martyrs (Cambridge, MA, 2013), pp. 144–57. Wynne was the first editor of the Jesuit publication America, and a founding editor of The Catholic Encyclopedia (New York, 1907–14). For an alternative interpretation of Kateri Tekakwitha, included by Wynne in writing of the Jesuits, see Allan Greer, “Natives and Nationalism: The Americanization of Kateri Tekakwitha,” CHR, 90 (2004), 260–72. 246 “NATIONAL AND U NIVERSAL” The first issue of the CHR reflected some of that mission diversity identified by the 1884 Plenary Council with articles on Christopher Columbus and the Santa Hermandad in 1492, Flemish Franciscan missionaries in North America (1674–1738), the history of the Diocese of Buffalo, and Native Americans. Ecclesiastical Status Change for the U.S. Catholic Church, 1908 In the reorganization of the papal offices under Pope Pius X, the United States and Australia were among the geographic areas removed from the jurisdiction of the Congregatio de Propaganda Fide in 1908, a change in ecclesiastical status from being considered a mission territory to being “regularized.” A missionary territory was understood as the condition that preceded the establishment of the Church into organized dioceses/ archdioceses with a Vatican, rather than Propaganda Fide, appointed ecclesiastical head, and with a financially self-supporting church.12 A case in point is reflected in the organization of John Rothensteiner’s twovolume History of the Archdiocese of Saint Louis, which received a lengthy CHR review. The author divided the history into three stages: Part I, Era of Preparation, in which he discussed missionary groups and “other zealous priests who carried the light of the faith into the forests primeval”; Part II, the Diocese of St. Louis; and Part III, the Archdiocese of St. Louis.13 Professor Edwin Ryan at St. Joseph Seminary, Dunwoodie, New York, provided an extensive account of the ecclesiastical development of diocesan organizational structures in the Spanish colonies, noting that “the labors of the pioneer who brings to the native the first tidings of Christ are carried out essentially on the same lines everywhere; but when this work has been done and the soil thereby prepared for erecting the normal fabric of church government, we naturally expect to see reproduced such national peculiarities as may be observed in the land from which they have been imported.”14 Church history in this period tended to highlight the public face of the Church: bishops in relation to the canonical structures and their 12. By 1925, the United States was already the largest single contributor of any country to the Society for the Propagation of the Faith, with the Archdioceses of Boston and New York leading the other areas of the country. 13. Claude L. Vogel, review of John Rothensteiner, History of the Archdiocese of St. Louis in Its Various Stages of Development from A.D. 1673 to A.D. 1928 (St. Louis, 1928), CHR, 15 (1929), 291–97, here 291. 14. Edwin Ryan, “Diocesan Organization of Spanish Colonies,” CHR, 2 (1916), 146– 56, here 146. Edwin Ryan, “Diocesan Organization of Spanish Colonies,” CHR, 4 (1918), 170–85. ANGELYN DRIES, O.S.F. 247 relationship with the governments, particularly in situations where governments usurped liberties of churches. The Aftermath of the Spanish American War, 1909–1918 With the varied mission tasks present in the United States prior to 1908, little thought was given by the U.S. Catholic Church to missions abroad, though, “for the demands of humanity and religion,” the Church engaged in what became an unsuccessful mission to Liberia in the 1840s,15 and the jurisdiction of the Bahama Islands was assigned by the Vatican to the bishop of Charleston, South Carolina, in 1860.16 By the late-nineteenth century, American Redemptorists were working in Puerto Rico; several U.S. women’s congregations taught there and in the Bahamas; and the African American Sisters of the Holy Family, New Orleans, served in Belize. In the aftermath of the Spanish-American War (1898), several countries with historically Catholic backgrounds came more immediately to the attention of the United States, and four American prelates were appointed to head Filipino dioceses. By the end of the first decade of the twentieth century, the study of Catholicism in Latin America was enhanced through an immense number of transcripts of documents from South America available through the Library of Congress; the Ayer Collection of the Newberry Library; the University of California (UC), Berkeley; and the University of Texas. Professor Herbert E. Bolton of UC Berkeley, a pioneer in Spanish borderlands studies, was credited with the saying “that more material exists for the study of Spanish activities in territory now part of the United States, than for the study of English Colonies.”17 The CHR articles and reviews continued to emphasize church-state issues. Charles Warren Currier (1857–1918), born on St. Thomas, West 15. Nicholas M. Creary, “The Demands of Humanity and Religion: The U.S. Catholic Church, Colonization, and the Mission to Liberia, 1842–44,” CHR, 11 (2014), 44–51. 16. After the Civil War, the Archdiocese of New York was assigned to the area. For some primary sources related to the Bahamas, see Richard C. Madden, ed., “Letters on Catholicism in the Bahama Islands from the Charleston Archives, 1858–1873,” CHR, 47 (1962), 487–507. See also Rt. Rev. Frederick C. Hopkins, S.J., “Catholic Church in British Honduras (1851–1918),” CHR, 4 (1918), 304–14, which provides primary sources for Jesuit interactions with local people and colonials in that country. For the history of U.S. Catholic missions overseas from 1820 to 1893, including the Bahamas, see Angelyn Dries, O.S.F., Missionary Movement in American Catholic History (Maryknoll, NY, 1998), pp. 22–61. 17. “Notes and Comments,” Hispanic American Historical Review, 1 (1918), 100. 248 “NATIONAL AND U NIVERSAL” Indies, as well as a recognized linguist and historian of Latin America,18 was appointed the first bishop of Matanzas, Cuba. His CHR contribution made use of those newly available sources and of the personal library of Señor Augusto Escoto of Matanzas. The bishop detailed Cuba’s history from 1492 to 1762, the latter date being the year the English captured Havana.19 He identified the succession of bishops in Cuba and indicated church law issues with respect to marriage and some church practices, such as fast and abstinence, in a country far removed from Europe and with an indigenous, Spanish, and mixed racial inheritance.20 Two of three articles in the January 1918 issue of the CHR were devoted to the Philippines, one a description of the historical development of Catholicism in those islands21 and Charles Warren Cunningham’s twenty-eight-page detailed article on the Spanish Inquisition in the Philippines, beginning in 1583 and moving through Governor Diego de Salcedo’s administration, arrest, imprisonment, and exile in 1668, five years after Salcedo’s arrival.22 A third article in the same volume discussed the Aglipay schism in the Philippines and the relationship between heretics and ecclesiastical structures.23 Closer to home, reviews of books about “pioneer” times of the Catholic Church in North America illustrated the fact that the mission church preceded the country’s annexation of what would become the fifty 18. Charles Warren Currier, “The Institutional Background of Spanish America,” Hispanic American Historical Review, 1 (1918), 24–39. 19. Charles Warren Currier, “The Church of Cuba: An Outline from the Earliest Period to the Capture of Havana by the English (1492–1762), CHR, 1 (1915), 128–38. After 1891, Currier was released from his Redemptorist obligations, served the Archdiocese of Baltimore, and was appointed assistant director of the Bureau of Catholic Indian Missions. 20. See also Edwin Ryan, “Diocesan Organization in Spanish Colonies,” CHR, 4 (1918), 170–85. Issues around these topics were frequently the first ones raised by missionaries or first episcopal leaders in mission territories, as was the case of John Carroll in Baltimore. 21. James Alexander Robertson, “Catholicism in the Philippine Islands,” CHR, 3 (1918), 375–91. “One is tempted to dwell at greater length on the organization of things ecclesiastical in the Philippines.” But the author then suggests another direction. “The remainder of this paper must, however, … concern itself to the condition of the people at the period of the military and religious conquest, and the religious effect produced by virtue of the operation of the forces of the conquest, and the more stable period following the conquest.” Ibid., p. 381. 22. Charles H. Cunningham, “The Inquisition in the Philippines,” CHR, 3 (1918), 417–45. 23. James Alexander Robertson, “The Aglipay Schism in the Philippines,” CHR, 3 (1918), 315–44. The writer was managing editor for the new journal The Hispanic American Historical Review. ANGELYN DRIES, O.S.F. 249 states of the United States. The feats of the early men and women missionaries of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were narrated for a literate Catholic public. Rose Philippine Duchesne’s life among the Potawatomi; Elizabeth Ann Seton, foundress of the first community of women religious native to the United States in 1809; the Sisters of Saint Joseph of Carondelet, Missouri, who, in spite of initial persecution, provided education for poor immigrants; and the Sisters of Charity of Cincinnati, Ohio, were a few examples of nineteenth-century mission work reviewed in the CHR. Most of the writers combined historical research and hagiography, both to make Catholic Americans feel proud of their heritage and to portray the women and men religious as heroes and models of virtue for American Catholics.24 In 1911, the Catholic Church in the United States “came of age,” as James A. Walsh thought of it, when he and Thomas F. Price founded the Catholic Foreign Mission Society of America. Daniel Sargent, a convert from Unitarianism and President of the American Catholic Historical Association, penned Walsh’s biography.25 From the beginning, Mollie Rogers and several women assisted Walsh and Price in key ways. With Mother Mary Joseph Rogers as founder and Mother General, the women formed a religious congregation known popularly as the Maryknoll Mission Sisters. The men sent their first four missionaries to China in 1918, and the sisters went to their first overseas mission in 1921.26 24. M. B. D., review of Mary Lucida Savage, The Congregation of St. Joseph at Carondelet: A Brief History of Its Origin and Work in the United States (1650–1922) (St. Louis, 1923), CHR, 10 (1925), 584–85; M. B. D., review of Mary Agnes McCann, The History of Mother Seton’s Daughters: The Sisters of Charity of Cincinnati, Ohio, 1809–1923 (New York, 1923), CHR, 10 (1925), 582–83; J. F. L., review of Marjory Erskine, Mother Philippine Duchesne (New York, 1926), CHR, 13 (1927), 124–26. For other examples just after this time period, see Lewis F. Furlan, review of James K. Jamison, By Cross and Anchor: The Story of Frederick Baraga on Lake Superior (Patterson, NJ, 1946), CHR, 32 (1947), 441–43; Ralph F. Bayard, review of Louise Callan, Philippine Duchesne, Frontier Missionary of the Sacred Heart, 1769– 1852 (Westminster, MD, 1957), CHR, 44 (1958), 227–28. 25. Daniel Sargent, All the Day Long: James Anthony Walsh, Co-Founder of Maryknoll (New York, 1941). Sargent’s ACHA Presidential Address is “The Perspective of the Historian of Today,” CHR, 22 (1937), 387–94. 26. Paul Rivera, “‘Field Found’: Establishing the Maryknoll Mission Enterprise in the United States and China, 1918–1928,” CHR, 84 (1998), 477–517. 250 “NATIONAL AND U NIVERSAL” New Global Patterns, 1919–45 1. Missions and Science Darwinian influence and the emerging sciences of ethnology and anthropology raised questions that affected religious beliefs and historical understandings: What is the origin of the species? Is there a unity in the diversity of species? What is the origin of the idea of God? Is polytheism a degradation of monotheism, or was the latter the pinnacle of growth beyond polytheism? Post–World War I CHR book reviews hinted at the scholarly conversation around the relationship of science, missions, and history. The development of mission statistics; the work of Wilhelm Schmidt, S.V.D., to involve missionaries in ethnology;27 and the use of medical sciences in missions were part of several mission societies’ entrée to people’s lives, so as to understand their worldview. Superior General of the Holy Ghost Fathers Alexander Le Roy (1854– 1938), a missionary in Africa for twenty years by the time the CHR reviewed the English translation of his The Religion of the Primitives, indicated that he had come to Africa with many stereotypes about the people he encountered. But daily interaction with Africans brought him new discoveries, corrected his ideas, or modified an earlier held thesis. Le Roy found that his ethnological observations of Africans in Gabon opened a new and “attractive exploration to the depths of the human soul,” not simply because of the ethnographic, historical, and philosophical components, but the exploration “reveals such astonishing points of comparison with the highest religion, that we may indict the theologian unacquainted with it as ignorant of a part of theology.”28 Le Roy was certainly aware that the Catholic anthropological conversation often reflected a background of entwined historical presuppositions and theological assumptions related to “modernism” and “secularism,” yet his experience and empirical method unfolded an engaging mission perspective based on observation and reflection. John Montgomery Cooper (1881–1949), who inaugurated the journal Primitive Man (1928)29 and established the Department of Anthropology 27. For later analysis of this key figure, see Louis Luzbetak, review of Franco Demarchi, Wilhelm Schmidt un etnologo sempre actuale (Bologna, 1989), CHR, 79 (1993), 309–11. 28. Patrick W. Browne, review of Alexandre Le Roy, The Religion of the Primitives, trans. Newton Thompson (New York, 1922), CHR, 10 (1924), 442–44. The book was first published in French in 1909. 29. The journal, published as Primitive Man from 1928 to 1952, was succeeded in 1953 by Anthropological Quarterly. ANGELYN DRIES, O.S.F. 251 at CUA in 1936, had become interested in archaeology from his student days in Rome. He undertook field trips among several Native American communities in Canada and eastern North America while working with the Smithsonian’s Bureau of American Ethnology.30 While Cooper’s CHR article related to the development of an appropriate nonclerical textbook for college students in church history, he interfaced insights from anthropology with historical and theological material to remove the “arctic content” of predominant texts.31 Employing the image of the Church as the “Mystical Body of Christ,” he remarked that the history of the Church “is the narrative of the action of the Holy Spirit … in the international Christian commonwealth. … The commonwealth, the organized society, the visible Church is not an end in itself. … A history of the Church which records only her career as a great international organized society comes very near putting the cart before the horse.” In fact, he remarked, “it leaves out the horse altogether.”32 He continued, “Dynastic church history should have to be scissored ruthlessly to make room” for the social and economic dimensions of how the spirit and works of charity were historically manifested—“everything that is crammed into the … whole vast range of charity and justice.” Students would more likely engage these elements, “for they touch close to everyday modern living and can readily be illustrated by a wealth of intimate historical material that has a strong imaginative appeal.”33 Cooper further suggested that rather than concentrating upon one or other “era” in church history, recent history should receive greater attention. “Is it well to go into great detail regarding the reform movement inaugurated by the Council of Trent and to slur over the wonderful Catholic re-awakening of the last hundred years in Europe and America?” Church histories should encompass the “upbuilding of parishes, education, charity, and missions in the United States during the last eighty or more 30. For background on Cooper and his historical/anthropological understandings, see Elizabeth McKeown, “From Pascendi to Primitive Man: The Apologetics and Anthropology of John Montgomery Cooper,” U.S. Catholic Historian, 12 (1995), 1–22. Elizabeth McKeown, “Tribal Encounters: Catholic Approaches to Cultural Anthropology,” in American Catholic Traditions: Resources for Renewal, ed. Sandra Yocum Mize and William L. Portier (Maryknoll, NY, 1997), pp. 210–21. 31. John M. Cooper, “The Content of the Church History Course in College and High School,” CHR, 11 (1925), 84–91, is the paper he delivered at the 1924 ACHA Annual Meeting. His textbook was Religion Outlines for Colleges (Washington, DC, 1924–30). 32. Cooper, “Content of the Church History Course,” p. 84. 33. Ibid., p. 86. 252 “NATIONAL AND U NIVERSAL” years of torrential immigration to our shores.”34 Twenty-five years later, Leo R. Ward’s The American Apostolate called attention to many “mission”oriented groups, especially of laity, who addressed “the problems of labor, land, and school” during the time in which Cooper wrote.35 2. Latin America: “A Good Neighbor” with a Missionary Palimpsest of Catholic Culture The early CHR interest in Spanish colonies related to the present United States continued. One author sought to “reveal certain principles actuating men of South America” and to describe, especially for the “business man,” the “tendencies and conditions under which [South Americans] live.” But the reviewer spent two of the almost three pages of his review critiquing the section on religion. He faulted the author, Clayton Sedgwick Cooper, for a “one-source” theory in gathering information on religion. Apparently Sedgwick consulted only a Protestant writer and an ex-priest, “which is, to say at the least, extremely prejudicial.”36 The relationship between missions and science also affected the study of Latin America. By the 1930s, public university historians were interpreting newly discovered colonial Latin America primary sources, “a new and vast field of history.”37 A slight interest of U.S. Catholics in Latin American Catholicism had arisen when the first Latin America Bureau was started in Washington, DC, in 1930. With North American business dealings in the Southern Hemisphere, President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Good Neighbor Policy, and the creation of a Division of Cultural Relations in the Department of State (1938), North Americans became “con34. Ibid., p. 90. Another dimension of science and mission was Floyd Keeler, ed., Catholic Medical Missions (New York, 1925), reviewed by J. F. L. Keeler in CHR, 12 (1926), 151–53. Keeler, a convert to Catholicism and secretary for the Catholic Students Mission Crusade, provided cases from around the world where missionaries addressed the chronic diseases people suffered. “With the progress of medical knowledge, science has generously lent a helping hand to religion in her pathological treatment of soul and body.” Medical missions had a spiritual end in view: “the soul is reached through the body.” The reviewer drew attention to the chapter on non-Catholic missions, which “offers food for thought. Much can we learn from the utilitarianism of our separated brethren.” Ibid., pp. 152, 153. 35. Eugene P. Willging, review of Leo R. Ward, C.S.C., The American Apostolate: American Catholics in the Twentieth Century (Westminster, MD, 1952), CHR, 39 (1953), 324–25. 36. J. Hugh O’Donnell, review of Clayton Sedgwick Cooper, Understanding South America (New York, 1918), CHR, 7 (1921), 222–24. 37. Paul V. Murray, review of Charles Edward Chapman, Colonial Hispanic America: A History (New York, 1933), CHR, 21 (1935), 343–45, here 343. ANGELYN DRIES, O.S.F. 253 scious for the first time of the inherent values in the political and cultural heritage of Latin America.” Historians were uncovering a view of Latin America that challenged some stereotypes North Americans held. The social outlook, political thought, and religious philosophies in the southern republics were “not necessarily indicators of inferiority,” as many north of the Rio Grande River thought.38 Joseph C. Wild’s review of the “journalistic and not scientific” Men of Maryknoll, by James Keller and Meyer Berger, faulted the authors in a chapter titled “Jungle Padres” for their portrayal of an image of inferiority among people in Latin America. “Many Americans … are apt to generalize and place all South Americans in this same category due to the preconceived notion existing in [the United States] … that South America is, as a whole, a backward, uncivilized, and uncultured continent.”39 The CHR took seriously ACHA President Edward Lilly’s appeal for a broader interpretation of American Church history to include the social, economic, racial, and cultural aspects of Catholic lay life beyond its institutional face.40 Lilly saw the need for more studies on immigrant groups and “on the Church in American frontier regions,”41 traditional mission subjects. He noted the scholarship of Lewis Hanke, the first chief of the Hispanic division of the Library of Congress,42 and referenced the rise of Latin America scholarship, citing Herbert E. Bolton, who argued that U.S. history needed to be studied in relationship with other American nations. 38. Carlos Castañeda, “Our Latin American Neighbors,” CHR, 25 (1940), 421–33, here 422. Castañeda was president of the ACHA in 1939. 39. Joseph C. Wild, review of James Keller and Meyer Berger, Men of Maryknoll (New York, 1943), CHR, 30 (1944), 177–78, here 177. 40. Edward P. Lilly, “A Major Problem for Catholic American Historians,” CHR, 24 (1939), 427–48, here 431. Lilly, who did graduate work in anthropology at CUA, taught there from 1940 to 1952 and at other Catholic universities, but he spent much of his life working in National Security Office positions. For the role of “history rather than scholastic philosophy to win recognition from non-Catholic scholars” and for the story of some U.S. historians who converted to Catholicism, see Patrick Allitt, Catholic Converts: British and American Intellectuals Turn to Rome (Ithaca, NY, 1997), esp. pp. 237–47, here p. 237. 41. Lilly, “Major Problem for Catholic American Historians,” p. 437. 42. The work of Lewis Hanke (1905–93) is cited in “Notes and Comments,” CHR, 44 (1959), 485–86. The Academy of American Franciscan History was founded in 1943, and the following year Antonine Tibesar, O.F.M. (1909–92), inaugurated the journal The Americas, whose scope was a review of inter-American cultural history, including history, economics, sociology, ethnology, literature, and folklore. “Notes and Comment,” The Americas, 1 (1944), 111–13, here 111. Tibesar was elected second vice president at the 1962 ACHA annual meeting. 254 “NATIONAL AND U NIVERSAL” Carlos E. Castañeda (1896–1958) reiterated some of Lilly’s points.43 An analysis of Spanish American civilization required comprehension of “the religious factor” and specifically the role the Catholic Church played, beginning with the missionaries, in the development of “culture” in the formation of the “new races.” Culture was understood as the promotion of education, specifically literacy, and the alleviation of poverty and social injustice. Mexican-born Castañeda, who became known for new studies of the early history of Mexico and Texas and for his librarianship at the Latin America Collection at the University of Texas, proposed a comparative historical framework to get at the “truth” of Catholic cultural influence in pre- and postindependence times. One sign of rising growth in Catholic scholarship on Latin America was reflected in the 1940 CHR volume, where eight out of thirteen articles featured individual countries in South America.44 While not specifically referencing mission in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, the CHR articles and reviews often presupposed a residue of earlier mission impact, a kind of palimpsest, at the core of the cultural fabric of the newly independent Latin American countries. A Catholic religious base was identified as a key to Hispanic culture and a source of unity. 3. Histories of Missions Overseas During the late 1930s, ’40s, and ’50s, Kenneth Scott Latourette (1884–1968), one of the most recognized North American Protestant mis43. Castañeda, “Our Latin American Neighbors,” p. 422. Castañeda is also known for his six-volume Our Catholic Heritage in Texas, 1519–1936 (Austin, 1936–58). See also Patrick Foley, review of Felix D. Almaraz, Knight without Armor: Carlos Eduardo Castañeda, 1896– 1958 (College Station, TX, 1999), CHR, 87 (2001), 125–27. 44. Growth in Latin America studies among Catholic American scholars can be noted in the locations represented by the eight authors. In addition to Castañeda, other contributors were J. Manuel Espinosa (Saint Louis University), Elizabeth Ward Loughran (Boston College), Walter M. Langford (University of Notre Dame), Marie R. Madden (Executive Council of Students League of the Americas), Raymond A. McGowan (connected with the first Latin American Bureau, National Catholic Welfare Conference), James A. Magner (Quigley Preparatory Seminary, Chicago), David Rubio (The Catholic University of America), and Edwin Ryan, (Ibero-American Institute of CUA). Manoel Cardozo, who taught Brazilian history and literature at CUA, was curator of CUA’s Lima Library and ACHA president in 1962. By the mid-1940s, scholars had a stellar guide to the National Archives of Latin America, all of which had been established at various times in the nineteenth century. Nicaragua and El Salvador at the time did not have national archives. See Manoel S. Cardozo, review of Roscoe R. Hill, ed., The National Archives of Latin America: Edited for the Joint Committee on Latin American Studies of the National Research Council, the American Council of Learned Societies, and the Social Science Research Council (Cambridge, MA, 1945), CHR, 35 (1949), 342–43. ANGELYN DRIES, O.S.F. 255 sion historians of his time, was the only historian who wrote specifically about “Nineteenth- and Twentieth-Century Missions” for the CHR. An ordained Baptist minister, Latourette was a professor of missions at Yale University Divinity School in 1921, and later the Sterling Professor of Missions and Oriental History. A bachelor with a large capacity for work, he lived on campus and was known as Uncle Ken to many students. Several of his publications on China, Japan, and Asia were reviewed in the CHR,45 as was his seven-volume monumental series, A History of the Expansion of Christianity (1937–45).46 One could say that, given the large number of CHR reviews of his work, Latourette is the major missions historian featured in the CHR. Latourette argued that nineteenth- and twentieth-century missions were set apart from preceding centuries through the geographic extent of the Christian movement and with more languages rendered into written form for Bible translations than ever before.47 Protestants more widely embraced missions to non-Christians for the first time. While missions arose from industrialized countries with European expansion through immigration and the development of Christianity in their new homelands, he noted that medicine and humanitarian movements came with the spread of Western culture. These points would have been familiar to his audience, but he then identified what he deemed unique characteristics in the expansion of Christianity in comparison with other religions in the same centuries. Protestant and Catholic missions depended on masses of people for financial assistance in contrast, he claimed, to Buddhist, Muslim, or Hindu missions, which generally were not popular movements financially. Individuals, families, or sometimes villages had been converted 45. For reviews of Latourette books on Asia, Japan, and China, see, for example, CHR, 21 (1935), 208–11; CHR, 32 (1946), 375–77. Edward A. Ryan later reviewed Latourette’s textbook, A History of Christianity (New York, 1953) in CHR, 40 (1954), 63–64. Beyond the Ranges (Grand Rapids, MI, 1967) is his autobiography. 46. Reflecting the progressive thought of his age, Latourette’s thesis is that in the seven major periods of Christian expansion, each “wave” of Christianity has been higher than the preceding one, and the trough of each wave receded less than the earlier one. “Christianity has gone forward by major pulsations. Each advance has carried it further than the one before it. Of the alternating recessions, each has been briefer and less marked than the one which preceded it.” Kenneth Scott Latourette, A History of the Expansion of Christianity, vol. 7 (New York, 1945), p. 494. For reviews of the other Expansion of Christianity volumes, see CHR, 24 (1938), 332– 34; CHR, 26 (1940), 102–03; CHR, 27 (1942), 457–59; CHR, 30 (1944), 175–77. 47. Kenneth Scott Latourette, “The Christian Missionary Movement of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries: Some Peculiar and General Characteristics,” CHR, 23 (1937), 153–59. For some of Latourette’s theological understandings, see his “The Christian Understanding of History,” American Historical Review, 54 (1949), 259–76. 256 “NATIONAL AND U NIVERSAL” to Christianity—but not nations or tribes—possibly because of high standards for baptism, Protestant emphasis on individual conversion, and, especially in Asia, the presence of masses of people who possessed a civilization with religious elements. A further feature since 1850, he observed, was the large number of Protestant and Catholic women missionaries, which led Latourette to ask, “What effect upon the newly emerging Christian communities has this prominence of the woman missionary had?”48 Finally, Latourette observed that some groups in Asia had adopted certain Christian ideals, especially those related to humanitarian values, without any formal acceptance of Christianity. A New Paradigm: Triangular Intersections in the Atlantic Basin One of the effects of World Wars I and II was to realign alliances between Europe and other countries, including those in colonial empires. With wars affecting travel to several Asian countries, particularly China, some mission groups during World War II looked to South America for mission assignments. At the same time, a new perspective grew among some scholars of Latin America and the Caribbean. They examined the geographical and cultural area not as separate states or countries but as interconnected elements with Africa, in a triangular intersection in the Atlantic basin.49 Africa, to some extent, was “invented” for various purposes.50 Some scholars studied “‘Africa’ in the nations of the Americas,”51 a process that used other interpretive categories than nation-state. An earlier CHR example of this triangular direction is seen in a review of The Negro from Africa to America that signaled the need for a broader approach. The reviewer, Francis J. Tschan, castigated the author for reliance on just 48. Latourette, “Christian Missionary Movement of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries,” p. 156. For a global view of Catholic missions, see William J. Coleman, review of Simon Delacroix, Histoire universelle des missions Catholiques, vols. 1 and 2 (Paris, 1957), CHR, 44 (1958), 313–15. 49. In some ways, this approach reflects Herbert E. Bolton’s “borderlands theory,” that it was impossible to study U.S. history isolated from the history of other nations. 50. The term was raised by V. Y. Mudimbe, The Invention of Africa: Gnosis, Philosophy, and the Order of Knowledge (Bloomington, IN, 1988), and subsequently employed by other scholars. 51. For a key analysis of the concept that involves the work of Richard Pattee and his connection with Latin American and Caribbean anthropologists, see Kevin A. Yelvington, “The Invention of Africa in Latin America and the Caribbean: Political Discourse and Anthropological Praxis, 1920–1949,” in Afro-Atlantic Dialogues: Anthropology in the Diaspora (Santa Fe, 2006), pp. 35–81. The author is grateful to Dr. Yelvington for sharing his work in this area. ANGELYN DRIES, O.S.F. 257 a few English and American sources while neglecting material found in recent archaeological and ethnology research taking place in Africa and the Caribbean region.52 A forerunner of this approach was Richard Pattee (1906–?), who taught in the Department of History at CUA and at the University of Puerto Rico. He worked at the State Department in the 1930s and ’40s and at the National Catholic Welfare Conference. Pattee, “an important facilitator in international intellectual exchanges especially between anthropologists and historians in the United States, Latin America, and the Caribbean, particularly those working on the study of the African diaspora,”53 was a leader in a revisionist approach to the study of the Latin America region.54 Pattee’s ACHA Presidential Address proposed that various academic disciplines had formed “fields,” which implied demarcated material with boundaries. This meant, as it did in agriculture, “fencing off a piece of land in which the individual works without curiosity or desire to penetrate beyond. Not only does the individual establish himself behind his little self-erected fence, to the cultivation of whose soil he devotes himself with more or less profit, but he acquires a singularly proprietary feeling which resents the appearance of any other individual who may desire to till the same piece of land.” The result was that while there were monographs, dissertations, and articles, there was “no vision”; there were “footnotes and no intuition, a breakdown with no synthesis.”55 Pattee queried whether one could know Latin American history without reading a Latin American 52. W. D. Weatherford, The Negro from Africa to America (New York, 1924), reviewed by Francis J. Tschan, CHR, 12 (1926), 323–26. Tschan had translated from the German a 1910 history of Arnold Janssen and the development of the Society of the Divine Word Missionaries. 53. Kevin A. Yelvington to “Dear Nicolas” (grandson of Richard Pattee), 2012. Correspondence provided to Angelyn Dries by Yelvington. Among other academic endeavors, Pattee translated into English from the Portuguese Arthur Ramos, The Negro in Brazil (Washington, DC, 1939), reviewed in Journal of Negro History, 24 (1939), 214–16. 54. Peter P. Forrestal, review of Richard Pattee, El Catolicismo en Estados Unidos (México, 1945), CHR, 31 (1946), 452–53. See also Richard Pattee, review of Peter Masten Dunne, A Padre Views South America (Milwaukee, 1945), CHR, 32 (1946), 115–17. Dunne (1889–1957), a Jesuit who remained a lifelong friend of his mentor Herbert Bolton at the University of California, Berkeley, authored several scholarly works on Jesuits in the California missions. Pattee later gathered contemporary research on the Church in Latin America in El Catolicismo Contemporáneo en Hispanoamérica (Buenos Aires, 1951). 55. Richard Pattee, “A Revisionist Approach to Hispanic American Studies,” CHR, 29 (1944), 431–44, here 442. 258 “NATIONAL AND U NIVERSAL” novel or whether one could know about the social or economic forces at play and not “grasp the spiritual and permanent values in the culture of the nation, which gave birth to these new nationalities.” Latin American history and historians of Catholicism needed “to think in broader terms and see things as a whole,”56 which meant a framework greater than histories of ecclesiastical structures. The “broader” thinking connected the African continent with the Caribbean and Latin America to show the effects of the creation of the “new nationalities,” as Pattee termed them, or “new races,” owing to the mingling of Spanish/Portuguese, indigenous, and African peoples. This raised questions about the role of Catholicism in those developments and the impact upon the Catholic Church itself. As noted earlier, anthropologists and ethnologists were making similar connections in the 1920s and ’30s. 1. Christianity around the World, 1950–65 Certainly the truly global World War II and its effects, including the cold war, provided an impetus for exploring a world larger than Europe and North America. In the 1950s, Pope Pius XII’s Fidei Donum (1957) drew attention to the growth of Catholicism in Africa and the need for missionaries in the continent’s changing social, economic, and political life.57 Ralph Wiltgen, S.V.D., used manuscript and printed sources from Portugal, France, and the archives at Propaganda Fide to write the history of permanent missions to modern Gabon, which gained independence as a state within the British Commonwealth of Nations in 1957. Through extensive documentation he examined social and economic history of the West Coast, especially during the little-studied slavery era. He explored the missionary effort to put an end to the trafficking of slaves in spite of government resistance to mission efforts, ridicule, and persecution from Christian merchants, and charted the eventual growth of Catholicism among the Gabonese.58 Historical interest in missions in sub-Saharan 56. Ibid., 444. Pattee’s address, as well as the article by Lewis Hanke, “Development of Latin American Studies in the United States, 1939–1945,” The Americas, 4 (1947), 32–64, was republished in Howard F. Cline, ed., Latin American History: Essays on Its Study and Teaching (Austin, TX, 1967). 57. For a history of one section of Nigeria to the 1950s, see Andrew E. Barnes, “Catholic Evangelizing in One Colonial Mission: The Institutional Evolution of Jos Prefecture, Nigeria, 1907–1954,” CHR, 84 (1998), 240–62. 58. F. M. Bourret, review of Ralph M. Wiltgen, Gold Coast Mission History, 1471–1889 (Techny, IL, 1957), CHR, 43 (1957), 188–89. ANGELYN DRIES, O.S.F. 259 Africa continued into the next decade and a half, when many colonies began to break away from their colonial powers.59 At a time when triumph of Mao Tse Tung’s Communist Party affected the millions of Chinese and foreign missionaries and business leaders, Columba Cary-Elwes, O.S.B., provided for the general reader an overview of the mission history of China, dividing the time into four periods: the Nestorians (seventh to eighth centuries), Franciscans (thirteenth and fourteenth centuries), Jesuits (1552–1773), and the modern period (1839– 1949).60 Joseph P. Ryan meticulously identified many of the American Catholic groups and individuals who served in China before 1945.61 While the cold war loomed largely in the United States and elsewhere, along with a commensurate fear of “Godless communism,” only one review on communism appeared in the 1950s, and this in relation to South America.62 The First World approach to history reviewed in the CHR was that of Eduard Fueter, World History (1816–1920). The German historian showed “the interdependence of occurrences taking place in widely separated localities.” But the reviewer critiqued Fueter for a bias against the Catholic Church and the popes, as well as the author’s preference for “secularization” and socialism, without presenting the Catholic view of the subject.63 The “world” in Fueter’s book, however, was largely Europe. A larger analysis of the post–World War era was Christopher Dawson’s Dynamics of World History, which dealt with sociological, philosophical, and historical foundations in the organic development of culture, the relation of religion and civilization, and the dynamics of cultural change underlying the global picture.64 59. John H. Leonard, review of Robert I. Rotberg, Christian Missionaries and the Creation of Northern Rhodesia, 1880–1924 (Princeton, 1965), CHR, 54 (1968), 325–26; John H. Leonard, review of Michael Gelfand, ed., Gubulawayo and Beyond: Letters and Journals of the Early Jesuit Missionaries to Zambesia (1879–1887) (London, 1968), CHR, 59 (1973), 298–99. 60. George H. Dunne, review of Columba Cary-Elwes, China and the Cross: A Survey of Missionary History (New York, 1957), CHR, 43 (1958), 481–82. 61. Joseph P. Ryan, “American Contributions to the Catholic Missionary Effort in China in the Twentieth Century,” CHR, 31 (1945), 171–90. The mission to China became for U.S. Catholics their first “wave” of missions overseas. The second wave was to Latin America beginning in the late 1950s. 62. Frederick B. Pike, review of Robert J. Alexander, Communism in Latin America (New Brunswick, 1957), CHR, 43 (1957), 360–62. 63. Francis S. Betten, review of Eduard Fueter, World History, 1816–1920 (New York, 1922), CHR, 9 (1923), 270–73, here 270. 64. Martin R. P. McGuire, review of Christopher Dawson, Dynamics of World History, ed. John J. Mulloy (New York, 1957), CHR, 44 (1958), 32–34. 260 “NATIONAL AND U NIVERSAL” 2. Ecumenism and World Religions, 1966–76 Another element, along with mission history that led to a focus on world Christianity, was ecumenism. Attentiveness to other major world religions had a late-nineteenth-century start in the United States, when several prominent Catholics participated in the Parliament of Religions, held as part of the 1893 Columbian Exposition in Chicago.65 Several of the Protestant organizers of the parliament were experienced missionaries. Catholic conversation about world religions at that parliament ensued with the cognizance that Catholics could be accused of indifferentism, that they could be attacked with polemical arguments given anti-Catholic sentiment in the United States, and that comparative religion study could diminish the uniqueness of Christianity. In the 1940s and ’50s, the CHR had reviewed a range of books related to world religions, indigenous religions, the archaeology and history of world religions, religion in Japanese history, Buddhism in Vietnam, and Islam.66 While the books sometimes highlighted the work of foreign missionaries, readers glimpsed a religious worldview other than that of Christianity, and in some cases learned of the global development of local Christian churches, each with its particular history wrought through interaction between missionaries, indigenous leadership, and local political and social developments. 65. James F. Cleary, “Catholic Participation in the World’s Parliament of Religions, Chicago, 1893,” CHR, 55 (1970), 585–609. Cleary was an editor of the Encyclopedia Americana. See also a later review by Jay Dolan of Richard Hughes Seager, The World’s Parliament of Religions: The East/West Encounter, Chicago, 1893 (Bloomington, IN, 1995), CHR, 82 (1996), 317–18. For U.S. Catholic interest in world religions from the time of the Parliament of Religions to Vatican Council II, see Angelyn Dries, “American Catholics and World Religions: Theory and Praxis, 1893–1959,” American Catholic Studies, 113 (2002), 31–51. 66. Paul Knapke, review of Edward J. Jurji, Great Religions of the Modern World (Princeton, 1946), CHR, 33 (1947), 51–53; John J. Considine, review of Robert A. Lystad, The Ashanti: A Proud People (New Brunswick, NJ, 1958), CHR, 45 (1959), 54–55; Martin R. P. McGuire, review of Jack Finegan, The Archaeology of World Religions: The Background of Primitivism, Zoroastrianism, Hinduism, Jainism, Buddhism, Confucianism, Taoism, Shinto, Islam and Sikhism (Princeton, 1952), CHR, 39 (1953), 63–65. See also Martin Gusinde, review of René Aigrain, ed., Histoire des religions, vol. 1 (Paris, 1953), CHR, 40 (1954), 191–92. The reviewer critiques the writers for applying a priori assumptions instead of a cultural-historical method, a process that disregarded the results of modern ethnological research. Gusinde, CHR, 40 (1954), 192. See Marshall W. Baldwin’s ACHA Presidential Address “Western Attitudes toward Islam,” CHR, 27 (1942), 403–11. See also Edward A. Arbez, S.S., review of A. J. Wensinck, The Muslim Creed, Its Genesis and Historical Development (London, 1932), CHR, 22 (1936), 192–93; Edward P. Arbez, review of Nabih Amin Faris, ed., The Arab Heritage (Princeton, 1944), CHR, 31 (1945), 322–26. ANGELYN DRIES, O.S.F. 261 Missions and ecumenism intersected with new insights expressed during the Second Vatican Council (1961–65). For one thing, the composition of the Council reflected a global Church. Subgroup meetings and other formal and informal conversation among the bishops were opportunities to consider various issues as they affected Catholics and others around the world. The original schema on missions, constructed mainly by bishops who held offices in the Vatican, was rejected by the Committee on Missions, that latter group consisting of missionary bishops and superiors of mission societies, who brought to the table a new agenda. The conversations that plumbed the depth of scripture, early church documents, and the global experience of the Catholic Church resulted in rich conciliar documents, including a decree on ecumenism (Unitatis redintegratio, 1964), a decree on the Church’s missionary activity (Ad gentes divinitus, 1965), and a declaration on the relationship of the Church to non-Christian religions (Nostra aetate, 1965). Between 1961 and 1971, the CHR reviewed ten books on ecumenism, including George Tavard’s review of Le Guillou, Mission et unité: Les exigencies de la communion.67 In his examination of communion, mission, and unity within orthodoxy, Protestant traditions, and the Catholic Church, Le Guillou concluded that “unity of the Church is essentially a missionary unity: the Church is one in order to be a proper witness to God’s plan of salvation.”68 Here “mission” was understood in a larger perspective than saving the “heathen,” or even “doing” things: health care, schools, and various types of assistance—the traditional fare of Catholic missions and the basis of Catholic “culture.” Mission was to reflect the “being” of God and the corresponding relationships thereof in society and with others, a point later made in Ad gentes divinitus.69 In a similar vein, Albert C. Outler (1908–89), Methodist ecumenist, official observer at the Second Vatican Council, and member of the Faith and Order Council of the World Council of Churches (WCC), shared his experience on the WCC Theological Study Commission on Tradition and 67. George H. Tavard, review of M.-J. Le Guillou, Mission et unite: Les exigences de la communion, 2 vols. (Paris, 1960), CHR, 47 (1961), 389–90. Le Guillou (1909–90) taught at Le Saulchoir from 1952 to 1967 and was a peritus at the second session of Vatican Council II. 68. Ibid., 389. A history of the World Council of Churches had been presented to a 1940 ACHA meeting: Leonard Bacigalupo, “The Pan-Christian Movement,” CHR, 27 (1941), 316–30. 69. “The pilgrim church is missionary by her very nature, since it is by the mission of the Son and the mission of the Holy Spirit that she draws her origin, in accordance with the decree of God the Father.” “Ad gentes divinitus” (On the missionary activity of the Church), December 7, 1965, in Vatican Council II: The Conciliar and Post Conciliar Documents, rev. ed., ed. Austin Flannery, O.P. (Northport, NY, 1992), para. 2, pp. 813–56, here p. 814. 262 “NATIONAL AND U NIVERSAL” Traditions. The ACHA’s first non-Catholic president titled his paper “History as an Ecumenical Resource: The Protestant Discovery of ‘Tradition,’ 1952–1963.”70 Outler noted that “modern ‘church history’ was born in polemics and grew robust on controversy [and] irreconcilable accounts of intransigent divisions.” In a ten-year period the WCC commission examined Christian history through a comparative ecclesiology, then through objective explorations of selected unitive themes of Christian doctrine,71 and lastly through experimental case studies in “ecumenical church history.” Though the commission’s report was sketchy and unfinished, Outler observed that Roman Catholic studies in scripture and tradition were taking place simultaneously, beginning with the influence of Pope Pius XII’s encyclical on promotion of biblical studies, Divino afflante Spiritu (1943). While the WCC theological commission was “never able fully to confirm or falsify our basic hypothesis: that the right sort of historical reconstruction of schisms has the effect of re-presenting them in a new ecumenical perspective,” the commission satisfied themselves “that ‘good history’ can be done with one eye on the evidence and with the other on transvaluations of the tragic Christian past.”72 A few years after Outler’s article, Charles V. LaFontaine elaborated on the role that Sister Lurana White (1870–1935) and Father Paul Wattson (1863–1940), cofounders of the Society of the Atonement, had played in the ecumenical movement, with a practice of what became known as the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity.73 Both founders were Franciscans and 70. Albert C. Outler, “History as an Ecumenical Resource: The Protestant Discovery of ‘Tradition,’ 1952–1963,” CHR, 59 (1973), 1–15. Outler had reviewed Harold E. Fey, A History of the Ecumenical Movement, vol. 2, 1948–1968, The Ecumenical Advance (Geneva, 1968), CHR, 57 (1971), 461–62. The WCC had its roots in the World Missionary Conference, held in Edinburgh, Scotland, in 1910. For an overview of the conference and its legacy, see Brian Stanley, The World Missionary Conference, Edinburgh 1910 (Grand Rapids, MI, 2009). 71. Outler, “History as an Ecumenical Resource,” p. 2. 72. Ibid., p. 9. For a study of the ecumenical movements’ origins, see Hermes Kreilkamp, review of Bernard Leeming, The Churches and the Church: A Study of Ecumenism (Westminster, MD, 1960), CHR, 47 (1961), 227–28. See also Winthrop S. Hudson, review of Samuel McCrae Cavert, Church Cooperation and Unity in America: A Historical Review, 1900–1970 (New York, 1970), CHR, 60 (1974), 274–75; Mark S. Massa, review of Richard L. Christensen, The Ecumenical Orthodoxy of Charles Augustine Briggs, 1851–1913 (New York, 1995), CHR, 83 (1997), 524–25. 73. Charles V. Fontaine, “‘Repairer of the Breach,’ Mother Lurana White, CoFounder of the Society of the Atonement,” CHR, 62 (1976), 434–54; Charles V. Fontaine, “Father Paul Wattson of Graymoor and Prayer for Christian Unity,” CHR, 67 (1981), 31– 49. The Society of the Atonement published a monthly magazine, The Lamp (1903–74), which was superseded by Ecumenical Trends (1972–). ANGELYN DRIES, O.S.F. 263 converts to Catholicism from Anglicanism. The CHR reviews of the 1960s and ’70s continued to feature a variety of books about other religions of the world. 74 More recently, a forum essay responded to John Connelly’s From Enemy to Brother: Revolution of Catholic Teaching on the Jews, 1933– 1965,75 which examined the background for changes in Catholic attitudes toward Jews, as developed in the Second Vatican Council document Nostra Aetate. Nelson H. Minnich, one of the responders who provided an introduction to the essay, chose four significant respondents in addition to Connelly’s final comments: Eugene J. Fisher, who spent thirty years at the bishops’ conference engaged in implementation of Nostra Aetate; Thomas Stransky, C.S.P., an original staff member at the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity; Susannah Heschel, Dartmouth University, daughter of Jewish philosopher Abraham Heschel; and Alberto Melloni, University of Modena. In his response, John Connelly reminded readers that “the crucial intellectual work behind Nostra Aetate was accomplished by persons who did not belong to the hierarchy or indeed often to the priesthood.” Converted Jews who had experienced racial prejudice within the Catholic Church had done much of the theological work.76 Living religious reconciliation in postcolonial Algeria, however, proved to be more than ideas found in a document for Bishop of Oran Pierre Claverie. When he was assigned to Algeria in 1967, the Catholic Church was multiethnic, but after the National Charter of 1976, which defined a “dynamic Algerian state socialism,” there was a deteriorating 74. James Kritzeck, review of Norman Daniel, Islam and the West: The Making of an Image (Edinburgh, 1960), CHR, 47 (1961), 51–53. Edward A. Synan, review of James Parkes, Prelude to Dialogue: Jewish-Christian Relationships (New York, 1969), CHR, 57 (1971), 303. Parkes (1896–1981), having seen antisemitism first hand in Europe, noted the role played by Christianity in fostering that sentiment. He was an activist in promotion of tolerance toward Jews and a key person in founding the Council of Christians and Jews. Kenneth Scott Latourette, review of Joseph Kitagawa, Religion in Japanese History (New York, 1966), CHR, 54 (1969), 656–57; Gerald H. Anderson, review of Piero Gheddo, The Cross and the Bo-Tree: Catholics and Buddhists in Vietnam (New York, 1970), CHR, 58 (1972), 252– 53. See also the later Edward J. Fischer review of Neville Lamdan and Alberto Melloni, eds., Nostra Aetate: Origins, Promulgation, and Impact on Jewish-Catholic Relations: Proceedings of the International Conference, Jerusalem (Münster, 2007), and Philip A. Cunningham, Norbert J. Hofmann, S.D.B., and Joseph Sievers, eds., The Catholic Church and the Jewish People: Recent Reflections from Rome (New York, 2007), CHR, 95 (2009), 94–96. 75. Review of John Connelly, Enemy to Brother: Revolution of Catholic Teaching on the Jews, 1933–1965 (Cambridge, MA, 2012), CHR, 98 (2012), 751–66. See also Thomas A. Kselman, “The Bautain Circle and Catholic Jewish Relations in Modern France,” CHR, 92 (2006), 177–96. 76. John Connelly, “Comment,” CHR, 98 (2012), 766. 264 “NATIONAL AND U NIVERSAL” French-Algerian bilateral relationship, with the result that the Church became a target. With his vast and intense experience in working toward reconciliation between Christians and Muslims in Algeria, Claverie was appointed in 1987 to the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue. In the meantime, “Islam was becoming increasingly politicized as an ideology, evolving into Islamism.” In 1996, Claverie and his driver were assassinated as they entered the bishop’s house.77 World Christianity as an Academic Discipline78 In 1982, the formation of the World History Association gave voice to a subfield of history, moving away from an emphasis on the “state” or “nation,” often the locus of historical enterprise, whether that of governments or of the Christian churches. The association’s Journal of World History (1990–) examines communities in relation to each other and draws upon transcultural, intercultural, and cross-cultural methodologies. World Christianity had also been growing as a comprehensive discipline arising from missions, ecumenics, and world religions. The story of Christian faith and practice around the world, frequently told from the perspective of local communities previously considered as “mission” territories, provided subject matter using several analytic categories.79 While some his- 77. Phillip C. Naylor, “Bishop Pierre Claverie and the Risks of Religious Reconciliation,” CHR, 96 (2010), 720–42, here 732. 78. A word about the term world Christianity in relation to the CHR: the concept of a Third World arose during the cold war to refer to countries that remained nonaligned with the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (Europe, United States, and allies—known as the First World) or with the communist bloc countries (known as the Second World). The political denotation changed by the early 1970s to identify Third World countries (much of Latin America and the Caribbean, Africa, India, and Pakistan, for example) with a focus on economic and internal political lenses: countries with a lack of development, massive poverty, little or no basic schooling, and often oppressive governments. The CHR does not use the term Third World as a category of book reviews. Rather than thinking of Catholic history in the Third World, whereby economic and political determinants would seem to govern the historical paradigm (yes, Marxism affected Latin America and elsewhere in the 1960s through 1990s), the journal more broadly designates large geographic areas of the world (see table 1). Some library catalogs in the United States, such as the Yale Divinity Library, use the search term world Christianity to designate books related to missions and world Christianity. But theologians in what had been considered Third World countries have continued to use the term to designate a theology from the underside of history, so to speak. 79. For primary sources from some local churches, see Brian Stanley, review of Klaus Korschke, Frieder Ludwig, and Mariano Delgado, A History of Christianity in Asia, Africa, and Latin America, 1450–1990: A Documentary Sourcebook (Grand Rapids, MI, 2007), CHR, 94 ANGELYN DRIES, O.S.F. 265 torians had discredited mission history because they considered missionaries as perpetrators of colonialism or empire, new studies found a more complex picture of the relationship between missionaries and the local cultures into which they came. Mission groups were centers of exchange between their mission world and that of Christians in North America and Europe. Most importantly, careful study of mission work illustrates the role that local Christians, often the laity, played in the development of Christianity.80 “By ignoring how indigenous people themselves shaped their interaction with missionaries, earlier [histories] relegate indigenous ethnicities to a non-historical past as passive recipients to outside influences.”81 Missionary study of vernacular languages and anthropological research added to the historical and theological worldview of Europeans and Americans, as cited in the earlier Alexander Le Roy example. Missionaries developed dictionaries, grammar books, and lexicons as a way to learn the language of the people, but the use of either a colonial or native language illustrates a mutual appropriation for personal or practical gain as missionaries and local people navigated intersecting cultural, economic, or religious systems.82 From a humanitarian as well as a religious standpoint, missionaries often called international attention to the plight of people among whom they worked.83 The journal Studies in World Christianity (University of Edinburgh, 1995–) focuses on the diversity of Christian experience outside of Europe and North America. The Journal of World Christianity (New York Theological Seminary, 2000–) explores the intercultural, interconfessional, and interreligious dynamics of Christianity as a world religion. Historians of (2008), 741–43. Vincent A. Lapomarda, review of Robert Royal, Catholic Martyrs of the 20th Century: A Comprehensive World History (New York, 2000), CHR, 88 (2002), 102–3. The growth of world Christianity as an academic field is further acknowledged in Hugh McLeod, ed., The Cambridge History of Christianity, vol. 9, World Christianities, c. 1914–2000 (New York, 2006). See Bill J. Leonard’s review in CHR, 95 (2008), 120–22. See the earlier William J. Coleman review of Delacroix, Histoire universelle des missions catholiques, in CHR, 44 (1958), 313–15. 80. Derek R. Peterson, review of Dana L. Robert, ed., Converting Colonialism: Visions and Realities in Mission History, 1706–1914 (Grand Rapids, MI, 2008), CHR, 95 (2009), 581–83. See also Susan E. Ramirez, review of James Scholfield Saeger, The Guaycuruan Experience (Tucson, 2000), CHR, 90 (2004), 368–70. 81. René Harder Horst, “The Catholic Church, Human Rights Advocacy, and Indigenous Resistance in Paraguay, 1969–1989,” CHR, 88 (2002), 723–44, here 723–24. 82. Michael Meeuwis, “Involvement in Language: The Role of the Congregatio Immaculati Cordis Mariae in the History of Lingala,” CHR, 95 (2009), 240–60. 83. Ken Waters, “Influencing the Message: The Role of Catholic Missionaries in Media Coverage of the Nigerian Civil War,” CHR, 90 (2004), 697–718. 266 “NATIONAL AND U NIVERSAL” world Christianity often employ comparative, transcultural, and transnational historical approaches to their subjects. John J. Considine first used the term “world Christianity” in 1945, and Henry P. Van Dusen developed the concept in 1947.84 But already in 1936, L. J. Younce of Marquette University had indicated, “Perhaps there is urgent need in view of the now close conjunction of East and West on so many points for a new, one-volume world history along these lines, a real history of civilization, not merely of European civilization.”85 While Catholics generally thought of themselves as geographically “universal,” the concept of world Christianity brought forth dynamics that had been afoot since the 1940s, including scholarship from the Institut Catholique in Paris, the German Catholic work of Wilhelm Schmidt, S.V.D., and annual publications of Propaganda Fide. A full palette of themes emerged, some of them not for the first time: border crossing, historical realities that transcended the “nation state” dynamics, indigenization, gender-related issues, and a shift from thinking about people as objects of mission to people as subjects of mission, the latter of which featured the role taken by indigenous people in evangelization of their communities.86 Ian Linden, in Global Catholicism, treats the latter point and draws attention to problems of globalization, as Catholic awareness moved from a Eurocentric and North American focus to a Church with a larger global history. Linden elaborates on “how the decision making during the council only slowly began to reflect a more international perspective.”87 He explored how ideas and religious practice traveled from region to region. He emphasized the importance of the role of inculturation in light of the “insertion of Christianity in various cultures” and “intimate transformation of authentic cultural values through their integration in Christianity.”88 These categories of thought shifted the focus from internal ecclesias- 84. John J. Considine, World Christianity (Milwaukee, 1945); Henry P. Van Dusen, World Christianity: Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow (New York, 1947). 85. Major L. J. Younce, review of Kenneth Scott Latourette, The Chinese: Their History and Culture (New York, 1934), CHR, 21 (1935), 208–11. 86. Jim Norris, review of Robert H. Jackson, From Savages to Subjects: Missions in the History of the American Southwest (New York, 2000), CHR, 87 (2001), 526–29. 87. Darrell Jodock, review of Ian Linden, Global Catholicism: Diversity and Change since Vatican II (New York, 2009), CHR, 97 (2011), 561–63, here 562. 88. Ibid. Quotation from Linden, Global Catholicism, p. 239. For analysis of another “global” issue, Marxism, see Francis J. Murphy, review of Denis R. Janz, World Christianity and Marxism (New York, 1998), CHR, 85 (1999), 591-92. The review noted that while the time was right, given that changes in the post–cold war climate made it timely to investigate the global impact of Marxism, the project needed to be “probed in the light not only of Marxism but also of current developments in theology and history,” engaging scholars from around the world and sources in languages other than English. Ibid., pp. 591–92. ANGELYN DRIES, O.S.F. 267 tical structures, and bishops and clergy within that system, to the experience of laity and to issues related to culture and gender. 1. Histories of Catholics: The Global Story after 1965 Histories of Christianity beyond Europe and North America continued to be showcased more extensively in the CHR after 1976, focusing on people and events occurring since the 1930s. Political dimensions did not vanish from the historians’ view after the Second Vatican Council, but two trends relative to missions, evangelization, and world Christianity appear. First, authors analyzed the practices or dispositions that prefigured elements in the Second Vatican Council documents, especially toward pastoral leadership and social justice, and then explored the consequences of those principles in the post-1965 period. Second, authors in a reflection of recent questions or historiographic developments relative to China and Latin America used new sources and approaches and provided interpretations of issues previously little explored. The first group of articles exhibits utilization of elements and perspectives that found their way into the Second Vatican Council or were incarnations of values Catholics found in the Council documents, as applied within their sociopolitical environment. In Latin America, Fernando Vives del Solar, a Chilean Jesuit (1871–1935), felt compelled to take a fourth vow to spend his life with the poor and with workers. His repudiation of injustice was a central element of his spirituality and political formation, especially influenced by Pope Leo XIII’s Rerum Novarum. Del Solar gathered students, workers, and others into discussion groups, whereby they graphically saw the realities of people in lower economic strata. His role in the Social League (Liga Social) and his participation in Catholic Action in Chile led to confrontations with sectors of the church hierarchy and the Conservative Party, which resulted in his exile from the country several times. De Solar’s life itself was a pedagogy illustrating the relationship between religious commitment, involvement in society with and on behalf of the poor, and the need to have the Church separate from political parties. He influenced key social action men in the next generation, including the now St. Alberto Hurtado.89 In El Salvador, Arturo Rivera Damas became archbishop after the martyrdom of the “prophetic” Oscar Romero. 89. Rosa Bruno-Jofré, “The Catholic Church in Chile and the Social Question of the 1930s: The Political Pedagogical Discourse of Fernando Vives del Solar, S.J.,” CHR, 99 (2013), 703–26. 268 “NATIONAL AND U NIVERSAL” In a changed political and ecclesiastical climate following Romero’s assassination, Damas proceeded in a “low-key” pragmatic manner to develop an institutional thrust toward justice. Through the 1980s, he had worked to end the Salvadoran civil war, and, as auxiliary bishop, Damas was “the backbone behind incorporating the social justice principles in Second Vatican Council documents.”90 Richard Gribble, C.S.C., examined the role taken by Vincent J. McCauley, C.S.C., bishop of Fort Portal, Uganda (1961–72), to coordinate the bishops’ views for a more united ecclesiastical response in eastern Africa to Ad Gentes; to develop diocesan structures and programs more reflective of lay involvement, especially for women; and to lead in the development of an ecumenical Uganda Joint Christian Council. McCauley’s view of expatriate missionaries was that they should shape indigenous clergy and eventually “work themselves out of a job,”91 and the pastoral steps he took were in that direction. Even though Catholicism was a minority in South Africa, the Catholic Church shifted “from a stance of seeming complicity with the government’s racist policies … to a more active role with the people, especially on the lower rings of Apartheid.” The Sisters of Mercy, Johannesburg, expanded their activities among the displaced peoples in Bophuthatswana—works that related to peace and justice, the relief of hunger, and skills training—as ways toward reconstitution of the social order, especially after the 1953 government takeover of public education, which in effect was designed to train a black industrial force in order to keep blacks “in their place.”92 90. Edward T. Brett, “Archbishop Arturo Rivera Damas and the Struggle for Social Justice in El Salvador,” CHR, 94 (2008), 717–39, here 717. For other analyses of key Latin American bishops in the 1960s through the 1980s, see John C. Super, “Interpretations of Church and State in Cuba, 1959–1961,” CHR, 89 (2003), 511–29, who noted that the Catholic Church was one of the least studied topics in the Cuban Revolution, and Mario I. Aguilar, “Cardinal Raul Silva Henriquez, the Catholic Church and the Pinochet Regime, 1973–1980: Public Response to a National Security State,” CHR, 89 (2003), 712–31. For changes in seminary formation that would “modernize” the curriculum with, among other things, a study of sociology and of Quichoa language and culture, see Lisa M. Edwards, “Latin American Seminary Reform: Modernization and Preservation of the Catholic Church,” CHR, 95 (2009), 261–82. 91. Richard Gribble, “Vatican II and the Church in Uganda: The Contribution of Bishop Vincent J. McCauley, C.S.C.,” CHR, 95 (2009), 718–40, here 725. 92. Catherine Higgs and Jean N. Evans, R.S.M., “Embracing Activism in Apartheid South Africa: The Sisters of Mercy in Bophuthatswana, 1974–1994,” CHR, 94 (2008), 200–221. ANGELYN DRIES, O.S.F. 269 The growth of the lay apostolate in its many forms internationally throughout most of the twentieth century received further impetus through the council documents. By 1961, the International Congress of Lay Apostolate had met in Tanganyika. Jacinta Nwaka analyzed the effect on lay apostolates before and after the 1967 civil war in Nigeria. Initially, the lay apostolate was to make up for the shortage of missionary clergy. Nwaka concluded that in postwar times, lay groups assumed a larger role in the Church, especially in evangelization and in ministry to the poor, but the apostolate did not “surmount [clergy] shortages to instill proper moral, spiritual and family values on a larger scale.”93 The second group of articles in the CHR after 1976 that treat the history of Catholics more globally reflects a recapitulation of recent historiographic developments in themes or issues relative to Latin America and China. As had been true for the 1940 volume of the CHR’s identification of significant new scholarship taking place in 1930s Latin American history (noted above), the October 1997 issue drew together substantive articles focusing on the present state of research on Catholics, mission, and the Church in China. Five of the seven articles focused mainly on the pre1800s period. In what appears to be the lengthiest article in the CHR (forty-two pages) at that time, Nicholas Standaert, professor of Chinese studies at the Catholic University of Leuven, provided a sweeping overview of the impact of historiographic emphases on the 1980s and ’90s with application to Christianity in China.94 In the introduction to the issue, D. E. Mungello and Edward J. Malatesta stated that mainstream China scholars viewed the study of Christianity in China as a “fairly insignificant field,” and that “Christianity had been largely destroyed by the antireligious movement of the Chinese Cultural Revolution (1966–1976).”95 The CHR issue argued to the contrary. Henrietta Harrison’s intriguing and insightful investigation of the responses to pressures Catholics faced from Chinese communist philosophy and practice in Shanxi Province just prior to the Cultural Revolution provides an example of the significance of new historiographic approaches and new 93. Jacinta Chiamaka Nwaka, “The Catholic Church, the Nigerian Civil War, and the Beginning of Organized Lay Apostolate Groups among the Igbos of Southeastern Nigeria,” CHR, 99 (2013), 78–95. 94. Nicolas Standaert, “New Trends in the Historiography of Christianity in China,” CHR, 83 (1997), 573–613. 95. D. E. Mungello and Edward J. Malatesta, Introduction, CHR, 83 (1997), 569–72, here 569. 270 “NATIONAL AND U NIVERSAL” sources.96 Harrison, with great delicacy given the political situation today, used Chinese State government records, documents from government work teams in an unidentified village, classified communist materials, and personal interviews related to the period 1950–80 to probe key events in 1964 and 1965 in villages with centuries-long Catholic life. In 1964, with the communist Four Cleanups campaign in Christian villages, Catholics found strength to stand by their Catholic faith recalling a martyr tradition, as transmitted by Franciscans, Jesuits, and Chinese priests, and with still-fresh memories of the Boxer Rebellion of 1900. When the pressures of Maoist communism mounted and led to imprisonment, physical abuse, and the death of priests and laity in the 1960s, the rise of spiritual practices of visions, miracles, and trance states, especially among young people (Li Zhenxiang, “Agatha,” and Antony), bonded the Catholic village communities. While churches were officially closed in 1966 during the Cultural Revolution, Catholic practice continued among many, with lay leaders and family units continuing to pray together as best they could. After 1979, with Deng Xiaoping in power, people in the villages Harrison studied quickly returned to rebuild their churches, with some edifices built even larger than before the revolution. Harrison’s example of Shanxi Province village life indicates further a diversity of Chinese Catholicism from the 1950s to the present and that while “religious repression was extreme, it was intermittent and patchy.” She convincingly argues that “our understanding of what happened has to move beyond a focus on national level events and especially beyond a focus on the Cultural Revolution, which was not always the defining moment.”97 Paul Mariani points to a significant event in the Catholic Church in China, when Pope Pius XI ordained the first six Chinese bishops in modern times. Mariani details the process by which the six Chinese priests were chosen, the background of the progressive priests who urged indigenization in this way, and the powerful constituencies who were against the ordination. Mariani concludes that their ordination in 1926 marked a “turning point,” whereby the Catholic Church was no longer “Western” but universal in its leadership with the indigenization of Chinese bishops.98 96. Henrietta Harrison, “Chinese Catholic Visionaries and the Socialist Education Movement in Shanxi (1963–1965),” CHR, 100 (2014), 748–70. 97. Ibid., p. 770. 98. Paul P. Mariani, “The First Six Chinese Bishops of Modern Times: A Study in Church Indigenization,” CHR, 100 (2014), 486–513. For the experience of Chinese sisters, see Sue Bradshaw, “Religious Women in China: An Understanding of Indigenization,” CHR, 68 (1982), 28–45. ANGELYN DRIES, O.S.F. 271 A forty-eight-page forum essay in the CHR addressed a popular “multifaceted” devotion to Our Lady of Guadalupe that, while originating in the 1500s, continues to influence Catholics well beyond Mexico and also affects Protestants who seek to convert Hispanic Catholics. Arguments arose among historians as to the historical truth of the origins of the devotion. Timothy Matovina, well-known scholar of the history of Hispanics in North America, outlined the history of the devotion from a local to a global devotion. There has been disagreement as to what came first: the chapel or a belief in Guadalupe’s reported apparitions to the indigenous neophyte, Juan Diego. Was there even an actual Juan Diego? Matovina discusses three components of the history of the first century of the Guadalupe tradition: arguments from silence, the participation of devotees, and the significance of the first published account of the apparitions.99 Stafford Poole, whose two works in English on the history of the devotion brought new readers to the conversation and whose work Matovina had discussed, responded that while Matovina “added useful insights into the complex development of the Guadalupe devotion, he has not resolved the many basic problems raised by its inconsistent and contradictory history. The question is still open.”100 Conclusion CHR has been remarkably ecumenical in its inclusion of reviews and writers on missions. As noted above, Baptist Kenneth Scott Latourette is the primary mission historian featured in the CHR, given the number of reviews of his books. The histories of missions in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, the development of ecumenism, and the inclusion of histories of Catholic peoples who, especially in those two centuries, have each contributed to our historical understanding of world Christianity. The CHR has noticeably featured articles and reviews in that direction after 1976 (see table 1). The accompanying chart illustrates coverage of mission history in nineteenth and twentieth centuries and the global consequences of Christianity outside of Europe and the United States since the first issue of the CHR. In turn, in addition to new sources, we have new questions to ask of that history. Thomas Spaulding has suggested that a “frontier thesis” 99. Timothy Matovina, “Origins of the Guadalupe Tradition in Mexico,” CHR, 100 (2014), 243–70, here 246. See the response by Stafford Poole, CHR, 100 (2014), 271–83, and Matovina’s response, CHR, 100 (2014), 284–91. 100. Poole’s response to Matovina, CHR, 100 (2014), 283. “NATIONAL AND U NIVERSAL” 272 TABLE 1. Articles and Book Reviews on Nineteenth- and Twentieth-Century Missions and the Growth of World Christianity Years Articles Reviews Latin America • use of the colonial period in relationship to the nineteenth and twentieth centuries • nineteenth- and twentieth-century missions and Church 1915–25 3 6 1926–35 0 3 1936–45 12 4 1946–55 2 15 1956–65 3 26 1966–75 3 21 1976–85 0 47 1986–95 1 28 1996–2005 6 23 2006–14 7 29 Asia • including the Pacific, Philippines, and Australia • for a period of time prior to 1976, some of the countries were designated as Far Eastern 1915–25 0 2 1926–35 0 5 1936–45 1 7 1946–55 0 1 1956–65 0 4 1966–75 3 14 1976–85 1 39 1986–95 1 31 1996–2005 7 17 2006–14 2 24 1915–25 1926–35 1936–45 1946–55 1956–65 1966–75 1976–85 1986–95 1996–2005 2006–14 Africa 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 1 2 7 1 0 0 0 3 1 11 3 2 6 Note. The articles and reviews noted in this article are included in this table, but also included are articles and reviews that are not mentioned. ANGELYN DRIES, O.S.F. 273 might be revisited in the history of Catholicism in America, moving the oft-told story away from cities. He observed that the frontier experience, “the openness, optimism, plasticity, ability to absorb, to respond to new challenges, to new landscapes, were all part and parcel of the legacy that would reassert itself” after the Second Vatican Council, particularly in the story of the laity.101 Given the strengths and problems of globalization in the last fifty years, perhaps a different kind of Catholic history might be written with a frontier thesis in mind, which reflects an examination of the zones of transfer and transmission, as well as appropriation of Catholic life. We are in a new era where the fulcrum of Christianity has shifted toward countries once considered “mission countries” and where just 40 percent of Christians live in Europe and North America. The “American student’s” complexion has also changed substantially since the 1919 Peter Guilday statement. The world has come to North America and to Europe, and with those travelers have come stories of churches of India, Asia, and Africa. We are also at a time when immigration, both forced and voluntary, is at an all-time global high. Given these developments, it would seem that one challenge for scholars of Catholic history today is to connect with Indian, Asian, African, and Latin American colleagues to learn how those parts of the world are interpreting their own Catholic history, as well as how they view their history in light of world Christianity. The Catholic Historical Review can continue to provide an academic “home” for their historical writing. To do so would be to “devote ourselves to historical subjects, without limitation in time or place,” as Guilday had suggested. 101. Thomas W. Spalding, “Frontier Catholicism,” CHR, 77 (1991), 470–84, here 484.