THE CATHOLIC
HISTORICAL REVIEW
VOL. 107

SUMMER 2021

NO. 3

Assassinations, Mercenaries, and
Alfonso V of Aragon as Crusader King
in the Thought of Aeneas Silvius Piccolomini
JOHN-PAUL HEIL*
Aeneas Silvius Piccolomini, the future Pope Pius II, was the most outspoken humanist supporter of a fifteenth-century crusade after the fall
of Constantinople. In his crusade writings from 1456–58, Piccolomini
argued that that King Alfonso V of Aragon and Naples was the ideal
figure to lead the crusade, portraying Alfonso as a Spanish imperator
whose qualities matched or exceeded even the Pope and the Emperor,
using classical rhetoric popular with Neapolitan humanists like Bartolomeo Facio. Even after Alfonso’s death, Piccolomini celebrated the
king as an exemplary ruler whose Spanish virtues brought peace to
Italy and Spain and which could have restored Constantinople and
healed a politically divided respublica Christiana.
Keywords: Alfonso V, Aeneas Silvius Piccolomini, Neapolitan
humanism, Callixtus III, Frederick III, crusade

W

hen Constantinople fell in 1453 to Mehmet II (1432–81), Renaissance humanists championed a crusade to halt the Ottoman
advance into Hungary and Transylvania.1 Aeneas Silvius Piccolomini
(1405–64, elected Pius II 1458) was at the forefront of this movement.
* John-Paul Heil is a Ph.D candidate at the University of Chicago and an adjunct professor of history at Mount St. Mary’s University. The author thanks Gregory Murry, Emily
O’Brien, and Ada Palmer for reading drafts of this article, as well as to the Catholic Historical
Review’s anonymous reviewers. The author is indebted to the University of Notre Dame’s
Rome Global Gateway program, which financed archival research used here.
1. James Hankins, “Renaissance Crusaders: Humanist Crusade Literature in the Age of
Mehmed II,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 49 (1995), 111–207, here 111. For a select historiography of humanist thought on the Crusades, see ibid., 112 n 2.

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Piccolomini, like his contemporaries Poggio Bracciolini, Biondo Flavio,
and Andreas Contrarius, held that a crusade’s success rested upon the
virtue of its leaders. Despite his initial attempts to convince his patron and
employer Emperor Frederick III (1415–93) to lead the crusade, by 1456,
Piccolomini saw one princely candidate as surpassing all the rest: Alfonso
Trastámara (1396–1458), the hereditary king of Aragon responsible for
conquering the previously Angevin kingdom of Naples in 1442. In his orations, letters, and histories from 1456 to Alfonso’s death and the beginning
of his papacy in 1458, Piccolomini developed an image of Alfonso as a
Spanish imperator who could politically reorder a war-torn respublica Christiana just as the king had in Naples and Spain. Like his contemporary
humanists in Naples, Piccolomini connected Alfonso as imperator with
classical and early Christian imperial exemplars and emphasized the king’s
contemporary power in the Mediterranean; in some cases, Piccolomini
even depicted Alfonso supplanting Frederick. In his later autobiographical
Commentaries, Piccolomini continued to defend Alfonso, (albeit critically)
for his commitment to maintaining peace in the respublica Christiana, contrasting warmongers like Alfonso’s rival, Pope Callixtus III (1378–1458).
Piccolomini pinned many of his and Christendom’s hopes on Alfonso,
whose Spanish heritage Piccolomini saw not as a sign of foreignness or
weakness, but of strength and virtue.
I. Humanist Depictions of Alfonso in the Renaissance Historiography
Piccolomini’s arguments for Alfonso’s leadership of the Quattrocento crusade relate to larger questions about the humanist depiction of
princes, especially Alfonso, which recent Renaissance scholarship has
begun to address. Older historiography of Aragonese Naples frequently
emphasized the propagandistic elements of Neapolitan humanism under
Alfonso’s patronage. In his economic analysis of Alfonso’s kingdom and
later biography of Alfonso, Alan Ryder argued that one of Alfonso’s
savviest moves was to assemble a humanist court and start a literary campaign, led by Antonio “Panormita” Beccadelli (1394–1471), to encourage
“the magnification of Alfonso as a worthy focus of literary and artistic
attention” to downplay his foreignness to the Italian peninsula.2 Jerry
2. Alan Ryder, Alfonso the Magnanimous: King of Aragon, Naples, and Sicily, 1396–1458
(Oxford, 1990), 306–07. Ryder observed that Alfonso’s success was rooted in “a fruitful interaction of Spanish and Italian genius, of energizing forces sufficiently akin in their common
Mediterranean culture to harmonize, sufficiently dissimilar in their historical development to
yield a hybrid of tough originality.” See Ryder, The Kingdom of Naples under Alfonso the Magnanimous: The Making of a Modern State (Oxford, 1976), 365–66.

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FIGURE 1. Juan de Juanes, King Alfonso V of Aragon and Naples, Public Domain,
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=79317159

Bentley dovetailed with Ryder’s conclusions, determining that Alfonso
used humanists as courtly propagandists to solidify his image as a learned
ruler, a task humanists were happy to carry out thanks to Alfonso’s
largess.3 According to Bentley, Neapolitan humanists anticipated Machiavelli in emphasizing that a prince’s appearance of virtue over legitimate
possession of virtue in order to justify morally Trastámaran political
machinations.4
3. Jerry H. Bentley, Politics and Culture in Renaissance Naples (Princeton, 1987), 298.
Humanists in Naples were paid significantly higher salaries than their counterparts elsewhere
in Italy. See ibid., 60.
4. Ibid., 140, 251. Bentley’s findings contrasted earlier Italian scholarship which argued
that Aragonese Naples imported existing humanist thought from northern Italy but lacked a
distinctive intellectual characteristic of its own. See Antonio Altamura, “Orientamenti bibliografici sull’umanesimo nel sud-Italia,” Italica, 24, no. 4 (1947), 325–28, here 328; Francesco
Tateo, “Le virtù sociali e l’immanità nella trattastistica pontaniana,” Rinascimento, series 2,
vol. 5 (1965), 119–54, here 121–22. However, in identifying Neapolitan humanism as preMachiavellian, Bentley also defined Neapolitan humanists as important only insofar as they
anticipated Machiavelli, a Florentine. Compare Mario Santoro, “Humanism in Naples,” in:
Renaissance Humanism: Foundations, Forms, and Legacy, ed. Albert Rabil (Philadelphia, 1988),
296–331, here 296.

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ASSASSINATIONS, MERCENARIES, AND ALFONSO V OF ARAGON

While some, like Fulvio delle Donne, still view Neapolitan humanism
as propagandistic, recent scholarship reconsidered the rhetorical content of
Neapolitan humanistic writings, particularly focusing on the humanists’
classical models and their treatments of Alfonso.5 Central to this conversation was Bartolomeo Facio (1400–57), Alfonso’s official court historian,
whose 1458 Rerum gestarum Alfonsi regis libri imitated Julius Caesar’s historical Commentarii belli Gallici and Commentarii belli civilis but framed
Alfonso in the role of imperial protagonist.6 Francesco Tateo explored the
parallels between the Commentarii and the Rerum gestarum and closely
examined how Facio drew explicit comparisons between the moral characters of Caesar and Alfonso, which, as Hester Schadee recently noted, used
the humanist topos of virtue without focusing on particular virtues.7
Significantly, Emily O’Brien connected Facio’s Rerum gestarum to
Piccolomini’s Commentaries, the autobiography Piccolomini wrote as Pius
II between 1462–64.8 O’Brien advanced that Piccolomini adopted Facio’s
Caesarean model to develop the story of his own life as an apologia for
papal authority and to politicize his papacy as a Roman principate on par
with the classical emperors.9 O’Brien highlighted how Caesar’s Commentarii focused on rhetorical self-defense and “offered humanist historians an
attractive model for illustrating a protagonist’s virtus through an account of
5. Fulvio Delle Donne, Alfonso il Magnanimo e l’invenzione dell’umanesimo monarchico:
Ideologia e strategie di legittimazione alla corte Aragonese di Napoli (Rome, 2015), 23–30; “Cultura e ideologia alfonsina tra tradizione catalana e innovazione umanistica,” in: L’immagine di
Alfonso Il Magnanimo, ed. Fulvio Delle Donne and Jaume Torró (Florence, 2016), 33–54; “Le
parole del principe: Effetto di realtà e costruzione del consenso,” in Linguaggi e ideologie del
Rinascimento monarchico aragonese (1442–1503), ed. Fulvio Delle Donne and Antonietta
Iacono (Naples, 2018), 13–24.
6. Sondra Dall’Oco, “La ‘laudato regis’ nel ‘De rebus gestibus ab Alphonso primo’ di
Bartolomeo Facio,” Rinascimento, 35 (1995), 243–51, here 245–46. Dall’Oco saw Facio’s
work as “an indispensable process to render a ‘foreign’ sovereign acceptable to the surrounding
courtly culture” of Italy. See ibid., 243.
7. Francesco Tateo, I miti della storiografia umanistica (Rome, 1990), 144, 152–53;
Hester Schadee, “Alfonso ‘the Magnanimous’ of Naples as Portrayed by Facio and Panormita: Four Versions of Emulation, Representation, and Virtue,” in: Portraying the Prince in
the Renaissance: The Humanist Depiction of Rulers in Historiographical and Biographical Texts,
ed. Patrick Baker (Berlin, 2016), 95–108, here 106. Cf. Peter Stacey, Roman Monarchy and
the Renaissance Prince (Cambridge, UK, 2007), 185.
8. Pope Pius II, Commentaries, trans. Margaret Meserve and Marcello Simonetta, 2
vols, (Cambridge, MA, 2003), I.vii.
9. Emily O’Brien, The Commentaries of Pope Pius II (1458–1464) and the Crisis of the Fifteenth-Century Papacy (Toronto, 2015), 5; and her “Arms and Letters: Julius Caesar, the
Commentaries of Pope Pius II, and the Politicization of Papal Imagery,” Renaissance Quarterly 62 (2009), 1057–97, here 1060.

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his res gestae. They were particularly useful for defending military and political actions, especially those that were ‘otherwise unjustifiable.’”10 Facio
and Piccolomini both had much to justify: Facio had to defend Alfonso
against accusations of military aggression, while Piccolomini needed to
reconcile his calls for papal absolutism with his own conciliarist past.11
Caesar’s posture of defense via “explanations [after the fact] for questioned
and questionable actions,” the récit justificatif, was not necessarily rooted in
objective historical reality, but in the artful reinterpretation of the past.12
O’Brien and others have noted that Piccolomini likely read Facio’s Rerum
gestarum in 1456, during his diplomatic mission to broker peace between
the papacy and Naples at the conclusion of the Piccinino affair.13
However, Piccolomini adopted elements of Facio’s Rerum gestarum
even before his Commentaries. Piccolomini associated Alfonso with classical and Christian imperial imagery in his calls between 1456 and 1458 for
Alfonso to lead a crusade and, like Facio, held up Alfonso as a peacemaker
in Italy in his 1458 history De Europa. This challenges the scholarly view
that Quattrocento humanistic imperial depictions of Alfonso were simply
mercenary propaganda. Despite his connections with Neapolitan humanism, Piccolomini never relied on Alfonso’s patronage to survive; in fact,
during his 1456 mission to Naples, at a critical juncture in his clerical
career, Piccolomini had to convince Alfonso to make peace with his nemesis Pope Callixtus III, which according to the Commentaries frustrated the
king.14 Moreover, although he became a cardinal after successfully negotiating peace with Alfonso in 1456, Piccolomini had a difficult relationship
with Callixtus, opposing the pope’s nepotism.15 Portraying Alfonso as
imperial and a unifier of Christendom was a very risky political move, as it
came at the expense of both Frederick III, Piccolomini’s long-time patron,
and Callixtus III, who despised Alfonso.
10. Ibid., 1061. O’Brien here quoted Gary Ianziti, Humanist Historiography under the
Sforzas: Politics and Propaganda in Fifteenth-Century Milan (Oxford, 1988), 176.
11. For Piccolomini, see O’Brien, “Arms and Letters,” 1063. For Facio and Alfonso,
see ibid., p. 1086 and Giacomo Ferraù, “Il ‘De rebus ab Alphonso primo gestis’ de Bartolomeo Facio,” Studi Umanistici, 1 (1990), 60–113, here 101–04.
12. O’Brien, “Arms and Letters,” 1084.
13. Ibid., 1089-1090; Gabriella Albanese et al., “Storiografia come ufficialità alla corte
di Alfonso il Magnanimo: I Rerum gestarum Alfonsi regis libri X di Bartolomeo Facio,” in:
Studi su Bartolomeo Facio, ed. Gabriella Albanese (Pisa, 2000), 45–95, here 52; Paul Oskar
Kristeller, Studies in Renaissance Thought and Letters II (Rome, 1985), 271–75.
14. Pius II, Commentaries, I.31.8, 1:157. Unless noted, all translations from the Commentaries are taken from volumes 1 and 2 of the I Tatti editions.
15. Ibid., I.30.4, 1:149. See also O’Brien, The Commentaries, 105.

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Furthermore, on the surface, Piccolomini’s choosing Alfonso to lead
the crusade makes little sense. In addition to his rivalry with the papacy,
Alfonso had sponsored an invasion of Siena, Piccolomini’s hometown, to
destabilize Callixtus’s authority and escape his promises to participate in
the crusade. What did Alfonso have that the other princes at the forefront
of the crusades movement—like Frederick, Callixtus, or Philip, Duke of
Burgundy (1396–1467)—did not? Based on Piccolomini’s orations, letters,
and histories about or addressed to Alfonso between 1456 and 1458, it was
Alfonso’s Spanish and Gothic heritage which enabled him to pacify and
maintain an empire across the Mediterranean, granted him a voluntas
(will) and facultas (capability—moral, financial, or otherwise) to bring
about a crusade which explicitly surpassed the respublica Christiana’s other
princes, and made him an imperator, a ruler on par with ancient and early
Christian imperial antecedents.
II. Piccolomini and Alfonso’s Crusading Backgrounds
Despite Piccolomini’s enthusiasm for Alfonso as crusader king in the late
1450s, the Sienese humanist initially hoped to spur Holy Roman Emperor
Frederick III (1415–93) to crusade. Piccolomini and Frederick shared substantial history. Following his legal training in Siena (where he likely met
Panormita for the first time), Piccolomini became a prominent diplomat.16
He served as the Council of Basel’s secretary and transitioned from being a
conciliarist secretary for anti-pope Felix V to priesthood and the Imperial
chancery, where he served as Frederick’s secretary and trusted adviser; he was
ordained bishop of Trieste in 1447 and of his hometown Siena in 1450.17
While in Germany, he was crowned imperial poet laureate in 1442.18
After the fall of Constantinople, Piccolomini increasingly depicted
Frederick as a crusader king. In Frederick’s obedience oration to Callixtus
III in 1455, Piccolomini emphasized that, thanks to the emperor, the
respublica Christiana “lack[s] neither the facultas nor the voluntas to exterminate the Turks.”19 However, although “the emperor endeavors against
this pestilential beast and its evils,” Piccolomini argued that, because “there
16. Jaime Leaños, “Opportunism or Self Awareness: The Misunderstood Persona of
Pope Pius II,” Imago Temporis, Medium Aevum, 5 (2011), 243–63, here 247.
17. Aeneas Silvius Piccolomini, Europe (C.1400–1458), trans. Robert D. Brown
(Washington, DC, 2013), 6–8.
18. Ibid.; Reject Aeneas, Accept Pius: Selected Letters of Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini (Pope
Pius II), trans. Thomas M. Izbicki et al. (Washington, D.C, 2006), 26, 30, 34.
19. Ibid.; Orationes politicae, et ecclesiasticae, ed. Joannes Dominicus Mansi (Lucca,
1755), 345.

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is need for all the faithful to drive back the Turks and avenge the affront
to the Christian people,” a duty that “requires great cost and many men,”
Pope Callixtus should join forces with the emperor.20 Piccolomini
instructed the pope that “it now concerns you, and our Emperor, to do
what must be done; for unless you, the two great lights, the first of all the
heads of the world, the salt of the earth and protectors of the world, unite
Christian men towards this work, there is no reason why we should hope
either or why the Turks should fear a Christian army being assembled.”21
Despite Piccolomini’s celebration of Frederick, the emperor’s failure to
attend his own crusading Diets of Regensburg and Frankfurt (1454) and
Diet of Wiener-Neustadt (1455) sunk Piccolomini’s hopes that the
Emperor would unite the feuding princes of Europe to crusade.22
By 1456, Piccolomini had turned his attention from Frederick to
Alfonso of Naples. Piccolomini and Alfonso also shared a history. Shortly
after Alfonso’s seizure of Naples from the Angevins, Piccolomini wrote
about Alfonso in his De viris illustribus, composed between 1445 and 1449,
and characterized him as “a man of great spirit. No one in his time has
been more severely tested by Fortune, yet there is also no one who so consistently and surprisingly turns back into her favor than he.”23 Piccolomini
concluded that Alfonso was “immeasurable in spirit, contemptuous of
danger, devoted to luxury, variable in faith, a distributor of lavish wealth,
with the disposition of a magnanimous man, both averse to and a practitioner of trickery.”24 However, Piccolomini softened to Alfonso once the
two began a personal acquaintance. One of Piccolomini’s most important
diplomatic missions was to negotiate the marriage contract between Frederick and Alfonso’s niece Leonora (1434–67) in 1450.
20. Ibid., 344. “Adversus hanc pestiferam bestiam, et adversus haec mala conatus est
imperator . . . propulsare Turcos, et illatam Christianae plebe contumeliam ulcisci omnino
opus est omnium fildelium, magnoque sumptu, et magnis viribus indiget. . . .”
21. Ibid., 345. Piccolomini’s oration also stated that both Alfonso and Charles, Duke
of Burgundy would aid the papal-imperial coalition.
22. Ibid., Reject Aeneas, 48. For Piccolomini’s frustrations with Frederick’s “vacillation”
on the crusade, see Pius II, Commentaries, I.xiv.
23. Piccolomini, De viris illustribus, ed. Adrian van Heck (Vatican City, 1991), 80. “Vir
magni animi, quo suo tempore nemo seviorem fortunam expertus est, quam tamen ipse mira
constantia in favorem sui convertit.”
24. Ibid., 84. “. . . animi immensurati, periculorum, contemptor, luxurie deditus, fide
varius, pecunie largus distributor, magnanimis viris affectus, numquam quiescens, doli vitator
ac structor.” Emphasis van Heck’s. This assessment echoed several of Piccolomini’s earlier letters, in which he critiqued Alfonso’s ambitions and compared him to a serpent. See Ibid., Der
Briefwechsel des Aeneas Silvius Piccolomini, vol. 61, ed. Rudolf Wolkan (Vienna, 1909), 17677, 201–02.

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Alfonso had long flirted with the idea of going on crusade. During
Alfonso’s victorious entrance into conquered Naples in 1443, a small
theatrical performance held in front of the Tower of Royal Virtues on
Alfonso’s triumphal arch depicted, according to Panormita, a scene
acted out by “young Catalan [men] saddled atop small horses made of
papier-mâché, armed with an Aragonese shield and a sword, who fought
against a group of knaves [playing] Turks, who had monstrous heads.”25
After the performance, a woman personifying Magnanimity, the virtue
most associated with Alfonso in humanist texts, showed Alfonso “those
barbarians would be chased away by the victorious Spanish and encouraged the king to understand that, if war against the infidels, who abhor
the name of Christ, should be undertaken soon, the ready and able
Spanish would undoubtedly be the victors.”26 Alfonso’s self-constructed
image as crusader king evoked not only the humanist ideals of classical
virtue, but also the medieval knightly tradition and his own Spanish
roots. His Spanish virtues morally legitimized him and connected him
to the “tradition of Reconquista, which guaranteed him success in this
endeavor.”27
After his Neapolitan coronation, Alfonso claimed two titles tied to the
crusading movement. The first was the title of King of Jerusalem, which
Alfonso held by virtue of his succession to the Angevin monarchy of
Naples and used for himself in Neapolitan court documents by 1444.28 The
second was King of Hungary. Alfonso inherited the title King of Hungary
in 1435 from Giovanna II, who had given Alfonso his initial claim to
Naples as his brother’s fiancé; John Hunyadi (1406–56), regent of Hungary, offered Alfonso kingship of Hungary officially in 1447, and suggested
that Alfonso take the crown and lead a Hungarian-Wallachian army to
attack the Ottomans. Although he accepted Hunyadi’s offer of the crown
25. Joan Molina Figueras, “Contra Turcos. Alfonso d’Aragona e la retorica visiva della
crociata,” in: La Battaglia nel Rinascimento meridionale: moduli narrativi tra parole e immagini,
ed. Giancarlo Abbamonte (Rome, 2011), 97–110, here 101. “. . . il combattimento fra i cavallini e i Turchi che precedette la sfilata della grande Torre delle Quattro Virtù Reali.”
26. Antonio Beccadelli, De dictis et factis Alphonsi regis Aragonum et Neapolis libri quattor
(Rostock, 1589), 110. “Ad animi excellentiam, subinde demonstrans barbaros illos ab Hispanis victos fugatosque, ut intelligeret rex, siquando bellum suscepturus esset contra infideles et
a Christi nomine abhorrentes, Hispano praesto esse ac procul dubio victores evasuros.” See
Figueras, “Contra Turcos,” 102 n. 14.
27. Figueras, “Contra Turcos,” 102. “L’antica tradizione ispanica della Reconquista,
garantendogli il successo di tale impresa. . . .”
28. Ryder, Alfonso the Magnanimous, 293. The Angevins had laid claim to Jerusalem
ever since Fulk V of Anjou in 1131.

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and promised to lead the attack, Alfonso became embroiled in Italian conflicts and the attack never proceeded.29
IV. The Piccinino Affair: Alfonso as crusade saboteur?
While Alfonso fashioned himself as a crusader king in imagery and
titles, his actions provide little evidence that he intended to follow
through. Writing from Naples on September 30, 1453—the same day as
Nicholas V’s (1397–1455) papal bull decrying Mehmet’s actions—
Alfonso pledged to muster his forces against the Ottomans “within three
years.”30 Despite his public support for Nicholas V’s calls for a crusade,
Alfonso displayed far more interest in Italian affairs, whether for personal
reasons or to shore up his power on the peninsula. His Italian concerns
included his relationship with Neapolitan noblewoman Lucrezia d’Alagno
(1430–79), his attempts to expand Neapolitan trade and influence into
Albania and the Balkans, his old grudge against his enemies in Genoa,
and especially the elevation to the papacy of his former secretary and consigliere (as well as Lucrezia’s uncle-in-law by marriage), Alfonso de Borja
as Pope Callixtus III in April 1455.31
Perhaps thanks to Piccolomini’s encouragement, Borja quickly set his
sights on securing his legacy: a crusade. Shortly after his election, Callixtus publicly vowed to “‘do everything in my power, even, if need be, with
the sacrifice of my life . . . to reconquer Constantinople.’”32 Callixtus’s
ambitions were stymied by a looming threat in the northern Papal States:
the condottiero Jacopo Piccinino (1423–65) and his mercenary army, the
29. Ibid., 300–01. For analysis of Alfonso’s titles, see Santiago Sobrequé Vidal, “Sobre
el ideal de cruzada de Alfonso V de Aragona,” Hispania 12, no. 47 (1952), 232–52, here 233.
For Hunyadi’s deal with Alfonso, see Ádám Anderle, “Alfonso V, el Magnánimo and the
Hungarian Throne,” Mediterrán tanulmányok 6 (1978), 17–28, here 17.
30. Vidal, “Sobre El Ideal,” 249. “Que ans de tres anys screm ab nostre poder.” Vidal
believed Alfonso specified this specific period so that he could secure the Italian peninsula’s
peace, a promise he followed through on in his signing of the Treaty of Lodi in 1454. See
ibid., 238. In 1451, Alfonso declared he was ready to assemble a diet. Ricardo Fubini, Italia
quattrocentesca: Politica e diplomazia nell’età di Lorenzo il Magnifico, (Milan, 1994), 197.
31. For Lucrezia, see Ryder, Alfonso the Magnamonious, 393–400; Enrico De Rosa,
Alfonso I d’Aragona: il re che ha fatto il Rinascimento a Napoli (Naples, 2007), 73–79 and 114–
15; Benedetto Croce, “Lucrezia d’Alagno,” in: Storia e leggende Napoletane (Bari, 1919), 85–
117, especially 101–02. For Alfonso’s Eastern European expansion, see Hankins, “Renaissance Crusaders,” 125; Ryder, Alfonso the Magnanimous, 301–05; Massimo Viglione, “‘Deus
vult?’: cambiamento e persistenza dell’idea di crociata nella Chiesa (Rome, 2014), 78–80. For
Genoa, see Ryder, Kingdom of Naples, 310–15 and Ryder, Alfonso the Magnanimous, 400–05.
32. Pastor, History of the Popes, 2:346.

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Bracceschi. Left without their lucrative contract from the Republic of
Venice after the Peace of Lodi, Piccinino and his army pillaged through
central Italy to support themselves until they arrived in July, 1455 at
Siena’s outlying territories, where they seized four fortresses.33 Piccinino’s
attack offended both the newly elected Callixtus and the Bracceschi’s old
archnemesis, former condottiero and duke of Milan Francesco Sforza
(1401–66). Sforza was in turn allied with the Medici, de facto leaders of
Siena’s long-time rival Florence. Eager to deflect blame and reestablish
itself economically following Constantinople’s fall, Venice allied with
Florence and its old enemy Milan to oppose Piccinino’s forces.34 Only
Naples remained neutral, which caused Milanese speculation that Alfonso
himself was Piccinino’s patron and had arranged this invasion of Siena’s
territories.35
Though there is no explicit historical evidence supporting this accusation, the Milanese theory that Alfonso orchestrated Piccinino’s invasion
is plausible.36 Siena had been caught between Milanese, Florentine, and
Neapolitan tensions earlier in 1450, when a group of 144 Sienese pro-oligarchic conspirators, fed up with the increasing democratization and
turnover of the city’s Council of the People, conspired to overthrow the
city’s government and institute a more oligarchic regime.37 The conspirators asked Alfonso to sponsor them.38 This unsuccessful conspiracy left
many pro-oligarchic forces in Siena, who looked with favor on Alfonso as
a power who could back their efforts to replace the populist regime with
an oligarchy, strengthened by the distant king’s protection. Many of these
conspirators from the 1450 coniuratio were then involved in a 1455 partisan plan to hand the city over to Piccinino, his mercenaries, and, by extension, to Alfonso.39
33. Serena Ferente, La sfortuna di Jacopo Piccinino: storia dei Bracceschi in Italia, 1423–
1465 (Florence, 2005), 50.
34. Luciano Banchi, “Il Piccinino nello stato di Siena e la Lega Italica (1455–1456),”
Archivio storico italiano, 4 (1879), 44–58, here 47.
35. Ibid., 48; see especially 48 n. 1.
36. Ryder pointed out secret communiques between Alfonso and Piccinino in which
Alfonso offered Piccinino 12,000 ducats to continue fighting in northern Italy after Piccinino was repelled from Siena by the Italian League. See Ryder, Alfonso the Magnanimous,
410 n. 51.
37. Petra Pertici, “Una «coniuratio» del Reggimento di Siena nel 1450,” Bullettino
Senese di storia patria 99 (1994), 9–27; Christine Shaw, The Politics of Exile in Renaissance Italy
(Cambridge, UK, 2000), 30–31.
38. Ibid., 31.
39. Ibid. See also Ferente, La sfortuna, p. 48 and Domenico Bassi, “L’epitome di Quintiliano di F.P. Senese,” Rivista di filologia e d’istruzione classica, 22 (1894), 385–470.

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While it is uncertain if Alfonso devised Piccinino’s plan to invade
Siena, the Neapolitan king undeniably benefited from the mercenary’s
destabilization of northern Italy, which distracted the peninsula from Callixtus’s attempts to mount a crusade.40 After he broke his silence and
stepped into the fray as a mediator between the papacy and Piccinino,
Alfonso gained himself a reputation as peacemaker and secured a permanent ally by forming a marriage alliance with the Sforza of Milan. By pacifying the Papal States, he also saved face with Callixtus, who was frustrated
by the many obstacles to his crusade, including Alfonso’s continued refusal
to contribute his forces to the crusade.41
Although Piccinino’s efforts to hold against the forces allied against
him fizzled out in 1456, support for the crusade also waned, leaving
Alfonso free to gain glory and renown by presenting himself as a crusader
king and defender of Christendom without the fear of having actually to
embark on a costly and risky war. After a defeat from a Milanese-Papal
coalition, Piccinino retreated to Castiglione della Pescaia, a Neapolitan
fortress, where Alfonso resupplied the Bracceschi.42 Piccinino captured
Orbetello, cheering the Sienese conspirators who wanted him nearby until
their coup, but Alfonso recognized that Piccinino was cornered.43 To extricate him, Alfonso argued to Callixtus and his allies that ending hostilities
would be the optimal outcome for all parties involved and Christendom as
a whole: the Pope had been searching for someone to marshal a force
against the Ottomans and in Piccinino, Alfonso suggested, the Pope had a
perfect candidate.44 This proposal was not well-received. Alfonso evacuated
Piccinino and the Bracceschi to the Abruzzi provinces in October, 1456,
where they remained until Alfonso sent them and his bastard son Ferrante
40. Ryder argued that Alfonso financed Piccinino’s invasion to undermine Callixtus’s
reign early on and establish a foothold in northern Italy, which would sandwich the Papal
States between two Alfonsine-controlled powers. Ferente’s 2005 biography of Piccinino
expressed similar views. Pastor held that Alfonso’s sponsorship of Piccinino was a delaying
tactic, “for it gave him time to place fresh obstacles in the way of the projected campaign
against the Turks,” which succeeded: by June, 1456, Callixtus’s attempts to repel Piccinino’s
incursion had cost the Papacy 70,000 ducats. Bentley examined the role Neapolitan humanists, especially Panormita, played in the Piccinino affair, and argued that “Panormita and
Alfonso basically raised hopes for a crusade . . . in order to extract concessions from the pope.
Alfonso could not consider embarking on a crusade while Calixtus made war against Piccinino. . . .” See Ryder, Alfonso the Magnanimous, 405, 410; Ferente, La sfortuna, 58; Pastor,
History of the Popes, 2:362; Bentley, Politics and Culture, 153–54.
41. Ferente, La sfortuna, 58.
42. Ibid.; Shaw, Politics of Exile, 31.
43. Ibid.
44. Ryder, Alfonso the Magnanimous, 405-06.

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(1423?–1494) to launch a campaign against Rimini in 1457.45 The conspiracy in Siena dissolved, resulting in many exiles and executions.46
V. Piccolomini’s 1456 Diplomatic Orations in Naples:
Alfonso as imperator
Despite Alfonso’s deflection of crusading responsibilities throughout
the Piccinino affair and the historiographical consensus that Alfonso never
intended to crusade, Piccolomini set his sights on Alfonso as the ideal candidate to lead the crusade.47 As bishop of Siena, Piccolomini represented
the city at the peace talks in Naples between Alfonso and the Milan-SienaPapacy coalition.48 As talks concluded in spring 1456 after months of
deliberation, Piccolomini gave two orations to Alfonso calling for his crusade leadership, the first on May 10 and the second on June 6. These orations developed themes which Piccolomini’s later pro-crusade writing
expanded on, including a celebration of Alfonso’s Spanish virtues and reputation as peacemaker, as well as the promise of Alfonso’s authority over
the respublica Christiana should he liberate the east.
Piccolomini’s first oration, given before the peace talks concluded on
May 31, promised Alfonso future glory if he ceased his support of Piccinino and led the crusade. Piccolomini hailed Alfonso “not as merely a
man, but as a Christian man; not merely a Christian man, but a Christian
king . . . and created by God not merely as a Christian king, but the most
powerful and wisest of all the kings that Europe has and as a king a
philosopher, something that is unheard of in our age.”49 Alfonso’s “power
45. Ibid.
46. Ferente, La sfortuna, 57; Paola de Capua, Le lettere di Francesco Patrizi (Messina,
2014), 76-85.
47. Regarding the legitimacy of Alfonso’s crusading intentions, see Ryder, Alfonso the
Magnanimous, 292; “The Eastern Policy of Alfonso the Magnanimous,” Atti dell’Accademia
Pontaniana, 28 (1979), 7–26; Bentley, Politics and Culture, 165; Hankins, “Renaissance Crusaders,” 125; David Abulafia, “Ferrante I of Naples, Pope Pius II, and the Congress of
Mantua (1459)”, in: Montjoie: Studies in Crusade History in Honour of Hans Eberhard Mayer
(Aldershot, 1997), 235–249, here 236; Leaños, “Opportunism,” 256. For recent reevaluations, see Mark Aloisio, “Alfonso V and the Anti-Turkish Crusade,” in: The Crusade in the
Fifteenth Century: Converging and Competing Cultures, ed. Norman Housley (Abingdon,
2017), 64–74, here 64; Bruno Figliuolo, “La Terrasanta nel quadro della politica orientale di
Alfonso V d’Aragona,” Nuova Rivista Storica, 100 (2016), 483–516, here 484.
48. Banchi, “Il Piccinino,” 239; Enea Silvio Piccolomini, “Modestius,” ed. Michael
Cotta-Schønberg (2019), 9.
49. Aeneas Silvius Piccolomini, “Orationem pro suscipiendo in Turcas bello,” in: De
dictis et factis Alphonsi regis Aragonum et Neapolis libri quattor (Basel, 1538), 255. “Nec qualis-

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of peacemaking and command over arbitration are things no one can
doubt” and, for that reason, Piccolomini urged Panormita and all gathered
for the talks to “open the ears of the king that he abandon Piccinino and
restore peace against the Turks.”50 Piccolomini assured Alfonso that, upon
their return from the East, “the returning kings of the North and the West
will convene in Rome and will hail you as great imperator of the respublica
Christiana.”51 Not only would Alfonso be celebrated on the Capitoline, in
the Temple of Jupiter, hailed by noblewomen, virgin maidens, magistrates,
and cardinals alike, but he would also be “conducted into St. Peter’s Basilica as a prince of the Apostles,” where “Callixtus III . . . bestowing a lavish
blessing upon him, will embrace him and warmly kiss him as an old father,
and then withdraw to the inner palace, where they will have long conversations among them both about the recent victory and about Spanish
affairs.”52 Although Callixtus would doubtlessly have been infuriated by
this, Piccolomini’s message was clear: Alfonso’s entrance into Rome and
the Vatican would that of a Spanish imperator.
Piccolomini’s second oration reaffirmed the promises of the first. The
first part of the oration commemorated “the peace” between Piccinino and
Siena, which Alfonso achieved through his “wise and divine judgment,”
declaring that “we see today that that not only our city, but . . . all of Italy
and indeed the whole of the respublica Christiana have recovered their
well-being.”53 According to Piccolomini, Alfonso’s peace would spur the
entire respublica Christiana to action against the Turks, who “will be
humiliated and foiled by our consensus. In fact, when all the Hungarians,
the Serbians, the Valachians, the Albanians, and the Greeks hear that
cumque homo, sed Christianus homo. Nec qualiscumque homo, sed Christianus homo. Nec
qualiscumque homo, sed Christianus rex . . . quod non qualiscumque rex ad Deo creatus est,
sed regum quos habet Europa est potentissimus et sapientissimus, quod nostro seculo inauditum est, rex atque philosophus.”
50. Ibid. “Huius pacandae potestas atque arbitrium penes Alphonsum esse nemo dubitat. Suade igitur Antoni, suadete omnes, quibus apertae sunt regis aures, ut relicto Picinino
pacem Turciae restituat.”
51. Ibid., 256. “Convenient Romam Septentrionis et Occidentis reges, redeuntemque
magnum imperatorem Christianae Reipublicae salutabunt.”
52. Ibid. “. . . in Apostolorum principis beati Petri Basilicam deducetur. Ibique maximum sacerdotem Calistum tertium . . . largam ab eo benedictionem accipiens, amplexus atque
deosculatus grandaeuum patrem, secum in penitiorem palacii partem secedet, ubi et recenti
victoria et de rebus Hispanicis longos inter sese sermones habebunt.”
53. Piccolomini, “Ad Alphonsum Aragoniae Regem Aeneae Senensis episcopi oratio,”
in ibid., 257. “In qua pacem sapienti ac divino consilio tuo perfectum vulgari iussisti. Quare
non urbi nostrae solum verum . . . ac toti Italiae, imo vero universae reipublicae Christianae
salute hodie partam videmus.”

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there is peace and concord in Italy, they will resist the Turks with invincible spirits.”54
Piccolomini called for a renewal of unity between Alfonso and Callixtus, in language which evoked Frederick’s 1455 obedience oration but with
Alfonso taking the emperor’s place: “Thus, illustrious king, you must act!
This honor has been reserved for you and Callixtus the highest Pontiff, to
restore the Christian religion, attacked on all sides and almost entirely
destroyed, to its former glory.”55 Just as with Frederick, Piccolomini
framed Callixtus and Alfonso as the lights of the West, “for the ancient
East that formerly poured out the true light of faith to us now expects light
and salvation from the West.”56 Piccolomini concluded his call to crusade
by explicitly comparing Alfonso to the great ancient Christian emperors,
stating that “we read often about Christian emperors and pontiffs sent
from Spain who looked after the Catholic faith beneficially and splendidly,
like Theodosius, Damasus, and others,” a tradition which Alfonso and Callixtus must carry on: “We trust that in our age the eastern kingdom will
again be returned to Christ, the true and singular God, under Callixtus III,
a pope divinely given, and Alfonso, the wisest and incomparable king, both
Spanish.”57 Echoing the first oration, Piccolomini celebrated Alfonso for
settling “through this one peace settlement all the quarrels of all Italy,”
which signaled the “beginning” of his call to act like an early Christian
Spanish emperor and defend the east.58
VI. Piccolomini’s 1457–58 De Europa:
Alfonso as “Master of Peace-Making in Italy”
Although Piccolomini’s mission was a success—Alfonso agreed to
contribute fifteen galleys to the crusaders’ naval forces and the peaceful
54. Ibid. “. . . tamen consensus noster deprimeret atque deijciet. Quippe, ut audient
Hungari, Rasciani, Valachi, Albani, Graecique omnes pacatam atque concordem Italiam esse,
invictis animis Turcorum arma sustinebunt.”
55. Ibid., 259. “Age igitur, rex inclyte; tibi, Calistoque summon pontifici haec laus servata est, qua religionem Christianum undique conculcatam, ac ferme deletam in pristinam
gloriam restituatis.”
56. Ibid. “Nam vetus ille oriens, qui nobis olim varae fidei lumen infudit, nunc ab Occidente lucem ac salute expectat.”
57. Ibid. “Legimus Christianos imperatores et pontifices maximos ab Hispania missos
saepe Catholicae fidei magnifice ac salubriter consuluisse, Theodosius, Damasus, atque alios,
aetas nostra sub Calisto tertio divinitus dato pontifice, ac sub Alphonso rege sapientissimo
atque incomparabili utroque Hispano, Orientalia regna rursus ad Christum verum, et singularem Deum reditura esse confidit.”
58. Ibid. “. . . initium dedit, quae cunctas Italiae lires unico pacis arbitramento sedavit.”

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conclusion of the Piccinino affair won Piccolomini his cardinalate—Piccolomini continued to expand the themes of Alfonso as Spanish imperator,
peacemaker in Italy and the Mediterranean, and supplanter of Frederick
III in De Europa. Written between 1457 and 1458, Piccolomini dedicated
the text to Cardinal Antonio Cerdá y Lloscos (1390–1459), whose election
to bishop and cardinal had been sponsored by Alfonso.59 Although the
purpose of the work was ostensibly to detail the events in Europe which
had taken place under the reign of Frederick III, the text dealt extensively
with Alfonso’s virtues, conquests, and great deeds.60 Piccolomini’s chapter
on Siena consisted almost entirely of an account of Alfonso’s peace-keeping activities in northern Italy and an account of the Jacopo Piccinino affair
that sympathetically represented pro-Alfonsine conspirators.
Piccolomini described Piccinino’s campaign in vague and generalized
terms in De Europa, saving his characteristic passionate rhetoric for an
indictment of his native city’s cruelty towards supporters of Alfonso, many
of whom were pro-Piccinino conspirators:
But while this peace released the Sienese from external conflict, it implicated them more and more in internal conflict. For friends of the King,
as if they had been the cause of the war or fomented the zeal of Piccinino,
were either killed or exiled. Many perceived that there would be great
danger in Siena if they were to stay, and so went into exile voluntarily,
while those who stayed who were suspected were treated with such severity that even the Florentines thought it was too much. These evils aren’t
over yet, and very little peace will be found in the city as long as new
“conspiracies” are either dissimulated or invented. The blood of our citizens is strewn about the public square.61

Piccolomini characterized this violent behavior against Alfonso’s supporters as unnatural and so abnormal that even Siena’s long-time enemy Florence, known for its civil wars and strife, thought the violence too great.
Piccolomini stressed that this violence culturally crippled Siena: he emphasized the lamentation of the Sienese citizenry upon the exile of humanists
59. Piccolomini, Europe, 49 n. 1.
60. Ibid., De Europa, ed. Adrian van Heck (Vatican City, 2001), 4.
61. Ibid., 221.7524–31, p. 225. “Sed ea pax externo Senenses solvit, interno magis ac
magis implicuit. Nam regis amici, tamquam bellorum causa fuissent Picininique studia fouissent, partim securi percussi sunt, partim relegati; multi cum sibi periculum in patria imminere
cernerent, sponte in exilium abiere adeoque in eos, qui suspecti habiti sunt, severitas exercita
est, ut etiam Florentinis videatur esse sevitum. Necdum malorum finis, quando in civitate
parum pacata nove in dies machinationes aut finguntur aut inveniuntur, et sanguis civilis
forum dispergit.”

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like Gregorio Lolli and Francesco Patrizi (the latter of whom fled south
and became perhaps the most significant figure in political thought in the
second half of the fifteenth century).62 Piccolomini concluded his lambasting of the Sienese for their out-of-character viciousness with a reminder of
a grim portent that preceded the Piccinino affair: a pregnant pony appeared
at the city’s gates leading towards Rome, gave birth, and immediately died,
“for it was a hermaphrodite and no sign of the female sex could be distinguished in it.”63
Piccolomini connected disorder in nature with disorder in politics,
with one directly leading to the other, and used the Piccinino affair not to
comment on internal Italian affairs but as proof of a larger disorder. Piccolomini argued that the culprits behind this subversion of nature and
politics were the Ottomans, who introduced corrupting chaos into Christian society and culture.64 Piccolomini described the fall of Constantinople as a religious desecration and a cultural dissolution: the Hagia Sophia’s
famous decorations were destroyed, churches were turned to brothels, and
bones of saints were thrown to dogs.65 Though Piccolomini grieved over
the Muslims’ actions, he reserved significant ire for the Eastern Christians. “It brings me shame to speak of the disgrace of the Christians,” he
wrote, censuring the Eastern Christians for their greed, their fearfulness,
and their lack of confidence, blaming them in part for the city’s fall.66
Even greater disgrace, however, belonged to the Western Christians, from
whom the Eastern Christians had requested aid, but “the ears of our
princes were deaf (for shame!), their eyes blind, because they did not see
that if [Constantinople] fell that the rest of the Christian religion would
be ruined.”67 Piccolomini blamed the European princes’ disinterest on
“their occupation with private rivalries or desires, which caused them to so
neglect the public good.”68
62. Ibid. 222.7536–40, p. 225.
63. Ibid., 222.7534–35. “Erat enim hermafroditus, quamvis feminei sexus nullum in eo
vestigium cerneretur.”
64. This was a common trope in earlier medieval crusading texts. See Robert of Rehm,
Historia Iherosolimitana, trans. Carol Sweetenham (Burlington, 2005), 138–40. See also Margaret Meserve, Empires of Islam in Renaissance Historical Thought (Cambridge, Mass., 2008).
65. Piccolomini, De Europa, 41, p. 81.
66. Ibid., 42.2120. See also ibid., 37.2017, p. 78; 39.2070–2084, p. 80; 41.2116–2118,
p. 81.
67. Ibid., 37.2018–20, p. 78. “Surde (pro pudor!) nostorum principum aures fuere ceci
oculi qui cadente Grecia ruituram Christiane religionis reliquam partem non viderunt.”
68. Ibid., 37.2021–22. “Quamvis privatis quemque aut odiis aut commoditatibus occupatum salute publicam neglexisse magis crediderim.”

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Piccolomini castigated Europe’s leaders throughout De Europa for
their focus on their own personal desires over the safety of the respublica
Christiana, with one exception: Alfonso. Piccolomini concluded De Europa
with a chapter on Naples, which celebrated Alfonso’s virtues and drew
extensively from Facio’s Rerum gestarum:
In war [Alfonso] is serious and harsh, but in peace he is merciful and
tame. . . . However, he hates crimes and does not permit any subjects to
act with impunity. He has restored peace and security to Naples, which
for many centuries previous had been a ‘den of thieves’ (Luke 19:46), to
such an extent that you can take whatever highway you want without fear
of robbers.69

De Europa’s final lines show that Piccolomini esteemed Alfonso because he
believed that the king could finally bring peace to a divided Italy just as he
had done elsewhere, through conquest in battle and virtuous rule.
Alfonso is a true progeny of the Goths, from whose blood he derives his
rule over Spain and from whom Alfonso, without a shadow of a doubt,
finds his origin. It was characteristic of the Goths to win battles and
subdue kingdoms. . . . And so it is the same in Aragon, Catalonia, Valentia, Sicily, and the part of Italy which is called “Greater Greece,” which
Alfonso has truly fought, pursued, won and conquered. He has become
the master of peace-making in Italy and seems to have moderated and
arbitrated his deeds similarly in Spain.70

The benefits Alfonso brought to Italy were only possible precisely because
Alfonso was a foreigner, a Gothic prince with a foothold on the Spanish
and Italian sides of the Mediterranean.

69. Ibid., 273.9366–71. “In bello severus et asper, in pace Clemens et mansuetus . . .
Scelera tamen odit nec impune subditos delinquere passus est. Regnum, quod multis antea
seculis spelunca latronum fuerat, adeo pacatum securumque reddidit, ut quacumque iter
habeas nullus predonum metus adsit.” Piccolomini drew from Facio throughout De Europa,
especially in his account of Alfonso’s conflict with the Angevins. Ibid., Europe, pp. 20–22.
70. Ibid., De Europa, 275.9446–53, p. 275. “Vera Gothorum soboles, ex quibus derivatum esse regium Hispanie sanguinem, unde Alfonsi origo est, haudquaquam ambigunt. Illis
et prelio vincere et regna sibi subiicere proprium fuit. . . . Quando et ipse Aragoniam,
Cathaloniam, Valentiam, Siciliam, Alfonsus vero eam Italie partem, que olim Magna Grecia
dicta est, pugnando, instando, vincendo sibi subiecit et, magister italic pacis factus, hispanicarum quoque rerum moderator et arbiter esse videtur.”

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VII. Piccolomini’s 1457 Letter: Alfonso’s facultas as a crusader king
Piccolomini thought a great deal about Europe and its disunity in
1457. In addition to the Ottoman advance which threatened the harmony
of the respublica Christiana, German princes and bishops, spurred on by a
papal bull which demanded that tithes be taken up across Germany to fund
the crusade, began to draft a Pragmatic Sanction against Callixtus to resurrect the conciliar movement, which concerned Piccolomini both due to
his German connections and his new position as camerlengo of the College
of Cardinals.71 Time was running out. If a crusade was not mounted soon,
the princes of Christendom threatened to tear the Church and the papacy
apart from within.
Reflecting on these themes in April, 1457, a few months before composing De Europa, Piccolomini again called for Alfonso to crusade, framing
his arguments through a description of the chaos in Germany and Eastern
Europe, seen most visibly in the unjust punishment of László Hunyadi
(1431–57) after his assassination of Ulrich of Celji (1406–56) in Belgrade.
Piccolomini provided a more impartial account of Ulrich’s assassination in
his 1458 De Europa. There, Piccolomini recounted how Ulrich, count of
Celji, encouraged his nephew, the young king of Hungary Ladislaus (1440–
57), to return to Hungary after the king fled to Austria to escape the advancing Ottomans; Ulrich was motivated by political advancement, according to
Piccolomini, as Ulrich’s nemesis John Hunyadi, who ran the kingdom in
absentia for Ladislaus, died in the Siege of Belgrade in 1456.72 While celebrating the death of Hunyadi, whom he hoped to replace as regent, Ulrich
was murdered by László Hunyadi, John’s oldest son.73 Piccolomini noted
that Ladislaus “did not doubt that his uncle had been killed rightfully” for his
attempt to grab power.74 Despite this, Ladislaus ordered László’s execution
before he himself died shortly afterwards from leukemia.75
Contrasting De Europa, Piccolomini’s 1457 letter criticized Ulrich and
lamented László’s execution. Piccolomini acknowledged László’s guilt but
71. O’Brien, The Commentaries, 27. For Piccolomini as camerlengo, see Conrad Eubel,
Hierarchia Catholica Medii et Recientoris Aevi, vol. 2 (Regensburg, 1913), 59. Thanks to Salvador Miranda for the help on this reference. For Piccolomini’s concerns with the concept of
Europe in 1457 before De Europa, see Barbara Baldi, Pio II e le trasformazioni dell’Europa Cristiana (1457–1464), (Milan, 2006), 29–30.
72. Piccolomini, De Europa 10.835–39, p. 47.
73. Ibid., 10.839–844.
74. Ibid., 10.845. “Nec dubitavit avunculum iure cesum fateri.”
75. Ibid., Europe, 61 n. 49.

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saw his death as a massive loss for Christendom since, according to the
letter, László “shattered the Muslims’ pride” during the Siege of Belgrade
and served “the respublica Christiana no less in the Count’s murder than in
his routing of the Muslims, for [both] were enemies of religion, the former
domestic and the latter foreign.”76 The term respublica Christiana recurred
in Piccolomini’s other letters and became a crucial theme in humanist writings during and after his papacy: the proper state (in both the political and
philosophical sense) of Christendom was one of order and unity.77 Now,
however, threats from within and beyond the respublica, like Ulrich and the
Ottomans, threatened that Christian unity. The respublica had become so
disordered that those who defended the Christian faith against these perils,
like Lászlo, were executed by its leaders.
After Ulrich’s murder, many claimants descended upon Cilje, posturing themselves as rightful heirs to the countship in unsubtle attempts to
establish footholds in Hungary to make a bid for kingship—many
declared themselves “heirs.”78 The turmoil in Hungary in the wake of
Ulrich’s assassination encapsulated a horrible truth for the respublica
Christiana: the lords of Hungary, the barrier between Europe and the
Ottomans, lacked the ability, the facultas to mount a crusade and perhaps
could not even withstand another attack from the Turks. Piccolomini was
not optimistic about Hungary’s chances: “Of the preparations against the
Turks in Hungary I will write nothing because I have nothing certain;
still, our most holy Lord attempts to stir and urge the Germans and the
Hungarians.”79
Piccolomini saw Lászlo’s execution one of many portents of doom
for the respublica Christiana in a year marked by ill omens in nature,
including Haley’s Comet. Although Piccolomini decried the “larger part”
of Europeans who spent 1456 in fear of “practitioners of the stars”
prophesying doom, he acknowledged that “the comet which was seen
76. Ibid., Epistolae familiares (Leuven, 1483), Tiir; Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica
Vaticana, Chigiano I.VI.210 also consulted. “Et hoc anno superbiam machumetis apud
eundem locum confregit. Creditum est non minus filium profuisse reipublica Christiane in
occisione comitis quam patrem in profligatione mahumetis. Cum mahumetes et comes hostes
religionis essent ille externus iste domesticus.”
77. Piccolomini, Reject Aeneas, 6. See also James Hankins, Virtue Politics: Soulcraft and
Statecraft in Renaissance Italy (Cambridge, MA, 2019), 472 n. 94.
78. Piccolomini, Epistolae familiares, Tiiv. “. . . alii ex testament heredes se dictantes. . . .”
79. Ibid., Tiiv–Tiiir. “De apparatu contra turchos in hungaria cum nihil certi habeam
nihil scribo sanctissimus tamen dominus noster et germanos et hungaros nunc litteris et nunc
nunciis excitare atque urgere conatur.”

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this year has abundantly satisfied itself.”80 While Christendom won a
decisive victory at Belgrade and halted the progress of Mehmet into
Europe, Hungary suffered greatly as “the plague has run wild in many
places, and wiped out a great part of the people, especially in Hungary.
High grain prices this year have afflicted not only Italy but also Germany, Greece, and many Eastern regions.”81
Piccolomini saw that Christendom desperately needed an organizing
force to heal and reorder the natural and political chaos afflicting it. That
force was Alfonso. Piccolomini concluded his letter by declaring
Hope [of victory against the Turks] does not seem great to me, unless I
should see Your Highness with your fleet in battle array, armed on the
great stern of that noteworthy ship, give the sign of departure against the
Turks. For although the rest of the world’s princes have the voluntas to
invade Greece, they lack the facultas; for if the voluntas of Your Highness
should be present, nothing will be lacking.82

In language that directly paralleled Frederick’s 1455 obedience oration,
Piccolomini again replaced Frederick with Alfonso as the guiding
princely voluntas of the crusade movement. In contrast to the lacking facultas of the princes of eastern Europe, Alfonso’s overflowing facultas
could reorder the respublica Christiana and especially the borderlands separating Christendom from the Ottoman threat. One sharp contrast with
the use of facultas in the 1455 oration confirms this: while Piccolomini
argued in the oration that the time was right for a crusade as the respublica Christiana, thanks to Frederick, possessed both the facultas and vol80. Ibid. “Cometes qui visus hoc anno est opinioni que de se fuit abunde satisfecit . . .
Sed maiora sunt que astrorum periti vel vates timenda predicant.” The comet’s 1456 appearance alongside Mehmet’s Hellespont crossing set off a wave of European anxiety. Callixtus
apocryphally ordered all Christians to add the line “‘Lord save us from the Devil, the Turks,
and the Comet’” at the end of every “Ave Maria.” See John Candee Dean, “The Story of
Halley’s Comet,” Popular Astronomy, 16 (1908), 331–345, here 334.
81. Piccolomini, Epistolae familiares, Tiiv. “Pestis multis in locis debachata magnam
populi partem et presertim in Hungaria delevit. Caritas annonae non Ytaliam modo sed Germaniam, Greciam, et orientis plurimas regiones afflixit.” Piccolomini also discussed the 1456
chaos in Siena, which he believed the comet and the Ottoman advance had caused: “Impletisque civitatibus seditiones excitavit: maxime apud senam urbem unde non parva civium pars
exclusa est.”
82. Ibid., Tiiir. “Mihi non magna spes fuerit: nisi viderim celsitundinem tuam classe
instructa in magne illius memoranda navis puppe armatam; signum profectionis contra turchos dare. Nam reliquis orbis principibus etsi voluntas est: non adest facultas qua greciam
invadere possint tue sublimitati si voluntas affuerit nihil deerit.”

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untas to mobilize, by 1457 only Alfonso had the requisite facultas to actualize a crusade.83
VIII. Piccolomini’s Commentaries: The Afterlife of Alfonso
and the Renaissance Crusade
After Alfonso’s death and his own ascension to the papacy as Pius II
in 1458, Piccolomini continued to develop facultas in his autobiographical
Commentaries, written between 1462 and 1464. Facultas frequently
appeared in the Commentaries whenever heads of state pursued or lacked
the financial or moral strength to support a crusade. Phillip of Burgundy
asserted the devotion of his “resources” and “body” to crusade after Piccolomini’s oration at the Diet of Regensburg.84 Ragusans at the Congress
of Mantua promised to fight against the Ottomans “according to their
capabilities.”85 Piccolomini punished the incestuous count of Armagnac by
demanding that the count take up arms against the Ottomans “as soon as
your faculties allow.”86 Piccolomini spurned Henry of Castile’s embassy
after concluding “they had no power to offer the pope anything for the
defense of the faith.”87
While his exploration of facultas built on his earlier writings, Piccolomini’s treatment of Alfonso was far more candid in the Commentaries than
before. According to Piccolomini, Alfonso supported Piccinino not as a
distraction from the crusade, nor as a preemptive political strike against
Callixtus, but because Alfonso was annoyed with the Sienese for making
peace with Milan and Florence without consulting him.88 Piccolomini also
questioned Alfonso’s judgment, suggesting that the king’s rivalry with Callixtus and his bitterness towards Siena’s duplicity had prevented him even
from civility in his reception of Siena’s envoys.89 Piccolomini criticized
83. Margaret Meserve identified a similar strain of thought in Neapolitan humanist
crusade writings as early as Biondo Flavio’s 1453 oration to Alfonso following Constantinople’s fall. Although Flavio did not categorize Alfonso’s ability as facultas, “Biondo intimates
that there is an order to the world, and that virtuous kings are set on earth to preserve it.” See
Margaret Meserve, Empires of Islam, 216.
84. Pius II, Commentaries, I.26.6, 1:130. Translation mine. “Cui rei neque facultates
neque corpus meum negabo. . . .”
85. Ibid., III.6.1, 2:24; cf. III.36.6, 2:160. Translation mine. “. . . pro suis facultatibus. . . .”
86 Ibid., IV.21.6, 2:280. Translation mine. “. . . cum primum facultas aderit.”
87 Ibid., IV.22.1, 2:282–83. “. . . facultate nihil habuere quod pro tutela fidei . . . offerre
pontifici valerent.”
88. Ibid., I.31.2, 1:151.
89. Ibid., I.31.6–7, 1:155.

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ASSASSINATIONS, MERCENARIES, AND ALFONSO V OF ARAGON

Alfonso for stalling the peace negotiations because of his distraction by
Lucrezia d’Alagno, a married Neapolitan noblewoman and Pope Callixtus’s niece-in-law.90 Alfonso several times moved the location of the negotiations so he could be near Lucrezia.91 Piccolomini spoke harshly of the
king’s infatuation, incredulous that “a great king, lord of the noblest part
of Spain . . . was at last brought low by love. He toiled for that woman like
a slave! . . . Though wise in everything else, in regard to this—and to hunting—he was stark mad.”92
Although Alfonso never fulfilled his promise to crusade, Piccolomini
defended Alfonso’s commitment to the crusading movement and peace in
the respublica Christiana in the Commentaries’s account of his death. Piccolomini made a récit justificatif for Alfonso’s life in his description of the
king’s death: after Alfonso’s final sickness “kept him lingering forty days
between hope of life and fear of death,” the king named his illegitimate son
Ferrante as his heir, ensuring a peaceful transition of power in Naples after
his death, left 60,000 ducats to the crusade and donated money to other
holy causes, and received the sacraments before “the king died in sanctity.”93 Alfonso rightly aligned his priorities after his forty-day illness to the
fulfillment of his princely duties before death, “like a good Christian.”94
This justification of Alfonso’s actions rhetorically strengthened Piccolomini’s own papal power. After his papal election, Piccolomini conditionally supported Ferrante’s right to the Neapolitan throne, a plan which
backfired when the Angevins challenged Ferrante’s claim and allied with
Jacopo Piccinino in a bloody war which undermined the authority of both
Ferrante and the pope at the start of their reigns.95 Piccolomini was still
dealing from the fallout of this unrest as he composed the Commentaries.
Piccolomini used the Commentaries to place the blame for the tumultuous
first years of his papacy squarely on Callixtus. When Alfonso died, Callixtus declared that rightful control over the Neapolitan kingdom reverted to
the papacy, intending to place a nephew on Alfonso’s vacant throne in vio90. Ibid., I.31.7, 1:155.
91. bid., I.31.8, 1:157.
92. Pius II, Commentaries, I.31.9, 1:157. “Mira vis amoris: rex magnus . . . ad extremum
victus amore quasi captivus mulierculae serviebat. . . . Verum Alfonsus nihil ea divinius inveniri posse iudicavit, in ceteris rebus sapiens, in hoc et in venando apprime demens.”
93. Ibid., I.35.4, 1:175. “Et lento morbo correptus quadraginta dies inter spem vitae et
mortis metum assumpsit. . . . Religiosus principis obitus fuit. . . .” Ryder estimated fifty days
between Alfonso’s final illness and his death. See Ryder, Alfonso the Magnanimous, 424, 430.
94. Ibid. “. . . nam Christano more. . . .”
95. O’Brien, The Commentaries, 105–07.

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347

FIGURE 2. Pinturicchio. Pius II at Ancona awaiting the arrival of the crusaders,
Piccolomini Library, Siena Cathedral. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:
Pinturicchio_-_No._10_-_Pope_Pius_II_Arrives_in_Ancona_-_WGA17807.jpg

lation of Eugenius IV’s and Nicholas V’s recognition of Alfonso as rightful
king of Naples.96 Contrasting Alfonso’s death, Piccolomini granted Callixtus’s death little dignity: “As Callixtus gloated over the death of his enemy
the king, imagining that the way now lay open for him to realize all his
plans, he himself fell sick.”97 Piccolomini took pride that he had prophesied Callixtus’s death: when he heard that Francesco Sforza supported the
Trastámara claim to Naples, Piccolomini cried “‘[this] message will be the
death of [Callixtus]!’”98 Callixtus died days later. If Alfonso’s death was one
96. Pius II, Commentaries., I.35.4–5, 1:175.
97. Ibid. “Dum Callistus inimico rege mortuo nimis alto feretur animo, et iam sibi
plana omnia censet, ipse quoque intra dies quadraginta morbo captus et extremo confectus
senio fatis fungitur.”
98. Ibid., I.35.5, 1:177. “‘At hoc,’ inquit Aeneas, ‘nuntio Callisto necem affers!’”

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ASSASSINATIONS, MERCENARIES, AND ALFONSO V OF ARAGON

of pious redemption, Callixtus’s death was a cautionary tale about jeopardizing political peace for private ambition.99 As Piccolomini lamented,
“How pointless are these human machinations!”100
As Italian conflicts flared up during Piccolomini’s papacy, princely
interest in the crusade continued to wane. Piccolomini attempted to find a
suitable princely replacement for Alfonso and eventually settled on Philip,
Duke of Burgundy, but largely tried to position himself as the head of the
crusade movement.101 However, when Piccolomini died in 1464 in
Ancona, just as Venetian ships arrived to sail him east, any hope for a crusade collapsed.
Piccolomini’s reasons for nominating Alfonso to lead the crusade are
still ambiguous. However, while Piccolomini’s celebrations of Alfonso in
the 1450s and beyond may read as humanist brown-nosing, Piccolomini
knew, even before his papacy, that the crusade would be his legacy. It does
not seem likely that Piccolomini, who readily flaunted his distaste for Callixtus and even his dissatisfaction with Frederick III, would task Alfonso
with a mission so near to his heart simply for political advancement. Piccolomini’s adoption of Neapolitan humanism’s associations of Alfonso
with imperial rhetoric and his development of Alfonso as a Spanish peacemaker in Europe should push historians to continue to study more deeply
how much hope Quattrocento Renaissance humanists placed in King
Alfonso and his successors.

99. Compare Francis-Noël Thomas, “Piccolomini among the Illustrious,” Memoirs of
the American Academy in Rome, 51/52 (2006–07), 211–23, here 215.
100. Pius II, Commentaries, I.35.5, 1:175. “Sed quid humana cogitatione vanius?” Piccolomini explored the relationship between Alfonso and Callixtus, as well as Callixtus’s
delight at Alfonso’s death, in II.4.3–6, 1:221–23.
101. O’Brien, The Commentaries, 194.

The Effectiveness of an Anonymous Pen:
The Experience of the Jesuit Polemicist
Francesco Antonio Zaccaria
SIMONA NEGRUZZO*
For Ugo
The figure of the Jesuit Francesco Antonio Zaccaria (1714–1795) is
exemplary for considering the style that the controversy acquired in the
early modern period, when he abandoned the strictly theological-doctrinal debate in an anti-Protestant function and also expanded to the
legal, historical, and literary in defense of the rights of the Church and
of the papacy. This essay highlights and analyzes, in particular, the
widespread eighteenth-century custom of anonymous writings.
Authors did not want to escape censorship as much as to draw more
attention to the contents and leave the writer the freedom of greater
aggression of language and more effective apologetics.
Keywords: Francesco Antonio Zaccaria S.J., (1714–1795),
Lodovico Antonio Muratori (1675–1750), Catholic Education,
Italian eloquence, Anonymous literature, Apologetics, Jesuits

1. The recent international success of the novel My Brilliant Friend by
Elena Ferrante (New York, Europe Editions, 2012) has shown that a good
book does not need an author. If one looks back on the intellectual history
of the world, this truth finds other confirmations. Without wanting to disturb the sacredness of the Old Testament’s writings, the epic stories of the
medieval Chansons de geste, or the exotic mystique of the One Thousand and
One Nights, just consider the fact that some masterpieces of modern
thought, such as Charles-Louis de Secondat, Baron de Montesquieu’s The
Spirit of Laws (1748) or Cesare Beccaria’s treatise On Crimes and Punishments (1764) went to the presses anonymously, only later recovering their
now authoritative literary authorship. At the end of the eighteenth century

*Professor Dr. Negruzzo teaches in the Dipartimento Storia Culture Civiltà [DiSCi] of
the Università di Bologna. Her email address is: simona.negruzzo@unibo.it.

349

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THE EFFECTIVENESS OF AN ANONYMOUS PEN

in Britain and Ireland, it seems that almost eighty percent of the published
novels appeared anonymously.1
At that time, the anonymity of writing was necessary to safeguard
against censorship and related criminal consequences. It was in 1537 when
King Francis I of France first imposed on authors and printers the obligation of legal deposit, and as the intent to control was all too clear, authors
began to hide their names or to camouflage themselves, and were not very
inclined, especially when disputes were initiated, to sign what could have
caused them suffering, imprisonment, exile, or death by burning at the
stake. In the modern era, anonymity has become a form of protection that
allows an author to hide, because the word—pronounced or written is the
same—does not enjoy freedom.2 As long as the writing is under surveillance, this process is quantitatively relevant and lively in its methods.
Moreover, since the Ancient Regime ignored the idea of intellectual property, which only became a subject of interest during the late Enlightenment, the anonymity of such writings brought about multiplied success to
the works, and to the objectives that were intended to be pursued in hiding,
mostly through fiercely aggressive forms of controversy. And nobody
would have dreamed of decrying plagiarism or claiming anything, except to
assert proudly the authorship of the work, once it had achieved its goal or
had found warm welcome in the right circles.
2. Not infrequently, anonymity constituted a means of debut on the literary
scene. It gave security to those of young age and to those with little experience. Sometimes it revealed talents that would bear fruit after some time.
Publishing without a name often meant “making a name for yourself.”
A particularly exemplary case is the Venetian Jesuit Francesco Antonio
Zaccaria (1714-95),3 who, not yet thirty years old, began to manifest his
1. James Raven, “The Anonymous Novel in Britain and Ireland, 1750–1830,” in: Faces
of Anonymity: Anonymous and Pseudonymous Publication from the Sixteenth to the Twentieth
Century, ed. Robert J. Griffin (New York, 2003), 145; John Mullan, Anonymity: A Secret History of English Literature (London, 2007). For Italy, see Lodovica Braida, L’autore assente. L’anonimato nell’editoria italiana del Settecento (Rome–Bari, 2019).
2. Bruno Neveu, L’Erreur et son juge. Remarques sur les censures doctrinales à l’époque
moderne (Naples, 1993); Bodo Plachta, Damnatur, Toleratur, Admittitur. Studien und Dokumente zur literarischen Zensur im 18. Jahrhundert (Tübingen, 1994); Church, Censorship and
Culture in early modern Italy, ed. Gigliola Fragnito (Cambridge, UK, 2001).
3. Francesco Antonio Zaccaria was born in Venice on March 27, 1714, into a family of
civil condition, even if the slanders claimed that he was born poor (among the slanderers, see
[Giovanni Bernardino Capriata] I lupi smascherati nella confutazione, e traduzione del libro intitolato: Monita secreta Societatis Jesu. In virtù de quali giunsero i gesuiti, all’orrido, ed esegrabile

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351

FIGURE 1. Portrait of Francesco Antonio Zaccaria, by anonymous author, of the
second half of 18th century, preserved in the University Library of Bologna which
authorizes its reproduction.

good intellectual dispositions anonymously, initiating a controversy against
the best-known man of letters of his time, Lodovico Antonio Muratori.
Zaccaria entered the Jesuit Order in the province of Austria on October 17, 1731. He completed his novitiate in Vienna and had started teaching rhetoric in Gorizia, while at the same time he was dedicating himself
to preaching in the Marian congregations and translating from French,
although still left in manuscript form, the voluminous The Roman History
by the confreres François Catrou and Pierre-Julien Rouillé. In 1737 he was
sent to Rome for theology studies, which he concluded in 1740, when he
assassinio di sua sagra reale maestà fedelissima Don Giuseppe I. re di Portogallo ec. ec. ec. Con un’appendice di documenti rari, ed inediti [. . .] (Ortignano: Nell’Officina di Tancredi, e Francescantonio padre e figlio Zaccheri de Strozzagriffi, 1760), 15). His father, Tancredi (1678–1773),
who was originally from Casentino, practiced the legal profession and, as an “intervener,”
acted as a prosecutor in the Venetian courts on behalf of various locales on the Terraferma
and some of the patrician families (Grimaldi, Priuli, Donà, etc.), had married Teresa Ferretti
in 1713. The baptismal godfather of little Francesco Antonio was the brother of Cardinal
Pietro Priuli, Francesco.

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THE EFFECTIVENESS OF AN ANONYMOUS PEN

was ordained priest by the bishop of Pesaro, Filippo Spada, in the chapel
of his palace on October 30, 1740. Appreciated for his good cultural skills,
he was transferred from the province of Austria to the Roman province.
In 1740 Muratori, under the pseudonym Antonio Lampridio, published the first draft (De Superstitione vitanda)4 of one of his most wellknown writings: Della regolata divotion de’ Cristiani (1747).5 The chosen
battle name, Antonio Lampridio, behind which everyone knew Muratori
was hiding, was the anagram of his arcadian name: Lamindo Pritanio. And
with this he had signed the De Ingeniorum moderatione in religionis negotio,
which appeared in Paris in 1714 due to censorship, initiating the discourse
on the rationalization of the Christian cult. As is well known, in his work
Muratori contested in particular the “vow of blood” which the viceroy had
pronounced in Palermo in an affiliated public ceremony on behalf of the
Palermitans; that is, the vow that they would wholly defend, even to the
point of bloodshed, the cause of the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin
Mary, out of gratitude to the Madonna, who had protected them during
an epidemic.6
The opposition against Muratori was immediately numerous.7 Those
who contested his views noted that his cultured reasoning smacked of a
Jansenism that criticized the naive popular faith of the Palermitans. Above
all, due to the lawfulness of the vow, the discourse easily slipped on the doctrinal question of the original holiness of the Virgin Mary, as if the erudite
Modenese wanted to justify heretics against the infallibility of the Church.
4. See Antonii Lampridii, De Superstitione vitanda, sive Censura voti sanguinarii in
honorem Immaculatae Conceptionis Deiparae emissi, a Lamindo Pritanio antea oppugnati, atque a
Candido Parthenotimo thelogo Siculo incassum vindicati [. . .] (Mediolani: Prostant Venales–
Venetiis: Apud Simonem Occhi sub signo Italiae, 1740 [17422]).
5. See Lamindo Pritanio [Lodovico Antonio Muratori], Della regolata divozion de’ Cristiani. Trattato (Venezia: Nella Stamperia di Giambatista Albrizzi q. Gir., 1747 [17482]). See
also Anna Burlini Calapaj, Devozioni e “regolata divozione” nell’opera di Lodovico Antonio
Muratori. Contributo alla storia della liturgia (Rome, 1997); Paolo Petruzzi, La “regolata” religione. Studi su Ludovico Antonio Muratori e il Settecento religioso italiano (Assisi, 2010).
6. See Julien Stricher, Le Vœu du sang en faveur de l’Immaculée Conception. Histoire et
bilan théologique d’une controverse, 2 vols. (Rome, 1959).
7. Among the writings that were opposed to him, see Vespasiano Maria Trigona, Lettera di Pier Antonio Saguas ad Antonio Lampridi, in cui si dimostra, che il suo libro intitolato: De
Superstitione vitanda, seu Censura voti sanguinarii, &c. troppo si opponga alle leggi del buon gusto,
già con plauso stabilite da Lamindo Pritanio (Palermo: Nella nuova Stamperia di Francesco
Valenza, 1741 [Napoli, Per il Muzio, 17422]); Fratris Ignatii Como, Dissertatio theologica in
vindiciis certitudinis Immaculatae Conceptionis Sanctae Mariae Virginis adversus Antonii Lampridii animadversiones in opusculo De Superstitione vitanda [. . .] (Panormi: Typis Angeli Felicella, 1742).

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Among the many anti-Muratorian pamphlets of the time, some
signed by members of the Society of Jesus, the first writing of the young
Venetian Jesuit appeared anonymously in Palermo.8 Several years later
Zaccaria himself gave an account of how things went, revealing the names
of the protagonists hidden by anonymity and claiming the authorship of
his texts, while prudently downsizing the facts.
Father Francesco Burgio, a Jesuit from Buccheri,9 was among the
first to defend the “bloody vow” (voto sanguinario) defined by Muratori
in 1714. His 1729 writing, under the pseudonym of “Candido Partenotimo,” vigorously contested the positions of Muratori,10 thus provoking
a new intervention on the subject by the learned Modenese. It was, in
fact, in reply to the Sicilian Jesuit that the treatise De Superstitione
vitanda was born, which had remained for a long time in manuscript
form, only reaching the press in 1740 due to the interest of the Dominican Daniele Concina. But the new writing, rather than placating the
controversies, rekindled them, and other texts appeared against Muratori.11 It was then that Francesco Antonio Zaccaria tried his hand with
the material and, as his first literary attempt, published three letters contesting Antonio Lampridio’s Superstitione Vitanda; however, as he later
claimed, it was not he who sent the text to print; he had read the text as
an opinion to the Palermitan confrere Alessandro Santocanale, whom
he had assisted in 1722, when he had preached in the cathedral in
Modena, where they would be together again in 1748.12 The fact is that,
in 1741, after passing through the hands of Santocanale and Burgio, the
8. See [Francesco Antonio Zaccaria], Lettere al Signor Antonio Lampridio intorno al suo
libro nuovamente pubblicato: De Superstitione vitanda, &c. (Palermo: Nella nuova Stamperia di
Francesco Valenza, per Antonino Cortese, 1741).
9. See Augustin de Backer, Auguste Carayon, and Aloys de Backer, Bibliothèque de la
Compagnie de Jésus. Nouvelle édition par Carlos Sommervogel, II (Bruxelles–Paris, 1898),
395–97; Girolamo Imbruglia, “Pignatelli, Giuseppe,” in: Dizionario biografico degli Italiani,
XV (Roma, 1972), 410–11.
10. See [Francesco Burgio], De Pietate in Deiparam amplificanda dissertatio duplex in qua
duplex exponitur, & vindicatur votum pro tuenda ejusdem Deiparæ Immaculata Conceptione susceptum. Auctore Candido Parthenotimo [. . .] (Panormi: Typis Angeli Felicella, 1741).
11. For the anti-Muratorian pamphlets on this occasion, see Gian-Francesco Soli
Muratori, Vita del proposto Lodovico Antonio Muratori, già bibliotecario del Serenissimo Sig.
Duca di Modena (Venezia: Per Giambatista Pasquali, 1756), 115–16; Diari della città di
Palermo dal secolo XVI al secolo XIX, pubblicati sui manoscritti della Biblioteca Comunale, preceduti da una introduzione e corredati di note, ed. Gioacchino Di Marzo, X (Palermo, 1872),
50–53.
12. See Atti del Convegno internazionale di studi muratoriani. Modena, 1972, 5 vols. (Florence, 1972–79), 1: L. A. Muratori e la cultura contemporanea (Florence, 1975), 237.

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THE EFFECTIVENESS OF AN ANONYMOUS PEN

three letters were anonymously “printed by a zealous man in honor of
the Virgin” in Palermo.13
3. Reasoned and full of citations from the two Muratorian works, the letters,
consisting of fifty printed pages, ended in urging the author’s repentance and
his reconciliation with the Church. Lastly, there was a warning not to disobey the constitutions of the Church and not to treat him (Lampridio, i.e.,
Muratori, “Man of such wisdom”) or the questions of the Virgin Mary and
her cult with an attitude of censorship and with “excessive freedom.”14
Due to the interest of Giovanni de Luca, a young friar from the Veneto
who was the author of a dissertation on the Immaculate Conception of the
Virgin,15 the letters of Zaccaria were returned to be printed anonymously in
Lucca, although still with the false editorial indication of Palermo.16 In
addition to some minor variations, they included in the appendix a Lettera
all’E.mo, e R.mo Sig. Cardinale N.N.,17 who is known to be Father Santocanale; this letter had first appeared in folio in Rome, anonymously and
without editorial indications, and in Palermo the previous year.18
Later the Immaculist polemic continued, especially in Palermo, with
dozens of pamphlets. Muratori responded in 1743, signing this time as Ferdinando Valdesio. Under this name, seventeen letters appeared as a cumulative response to the protesters.19 The sixth and seventh were dedicated to
13. [Francesco Antonio Zaccaria], Storia letteraria d’Italia divisa in tre libri, il primo, e
secondo de’ quali trattano de’ migliori libri usciti in Italia dal settembre 1748 fino al settembre 1749.
Contiene il terzo importanti notizie di scuole introdotte, di musei, di osservazioni matematiche, di
nuovi ritrovati, di scoperte anticaglie, di uomini illustri trapassati, e delle gesta loro, V: Dal settembre 1751 al marzo 1752 (Venezia: Nella Stamperia Poletti, 1753), 432.
14. [Zaccaria], Lettere al Signor Antonio Lampridio, 51.
15. See Giovanni De Luca, De Immaculata B. Virginis conceptione dissertatio (Neapoli:
Ex Typographia Januarii, & Vincentii Mutio, 1739).
16. See [Francesco Antonio Zaccaria], Lettere al Signor Antonio Lampridio intorno al suo
libro nuovamente pubblicato: De Superstitione vitanda, &c. (Palermo: Appresso Antonino Cortese, 1742.)
17. See [Zaccaria], Lettere al Signor Antonio Lampridio (1742), 49–94.
18. See [Alessandro Santocanale], Lettera all’Eminentiss. Signor Cardinale N.N., in cui si
dimostra, con quanta ragione si debba attribuire alla concezione della Santiss. Vergine il titolo d’Immacolata [...] (Palermo: Nella Stamperia di Francesco Valenza, 17412). About the Roman
edition, see G.M. [Gaetano Melzi], Dizionario di opere anonime e pseudonime di scrittori italiani o come che sia aventi relazione all’Italia, I (Milan, 1848), 82.
19. See [Lodovico Antonio Muratori], Ferdinandi Valdesii Epistolae, sive Appendix ad
librum Antonii Lampridii De Superstitione vitanda, ubi votum sanguinarium recte oppugnatum;
male propugnatum ostenditur (Mediolani: Prostant venales Venetiis, apud Simonem Occhi,
sub signo Italiae, 1743).

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the writing of Father Zaccaria, and the others were addressed to De Luca
(I–V), the Jesuits Melchiorre de Lorenzo (VIII), Vespasiano Maria Trigona
(IX–X), Burgio (XI–XIII), Santocanale (XIV), the canon of the Palermo
cathedral Lorenzo Migliaccio (XV), the Augustinian Bonaventura Attardi
(XVI), and the Jesuit Giuseppe Ignazio Milanese (XVII).20
The impulsive Zaccaria would have immediately rebutted, so much so
that he had promptly prepared three other controversial letters, although—
as stated later, without explaining anything—“for other reasons the printing was then suspended.”21 One could hypothesize that from Rome, an
attempt was made to calm the controversy in consideration of the fact that
Muratori, in order to calm the Jesuits, had just published the first volume
of Cristianesimo felice [Happy Christianity], in which he defended the Society of Jesus in an exalting and moved apologia, representing the
Paraguayan missions as a successful representation of early Christianity.22
However, no other authors remained. The anti-Muratorian dispute over
the vow of blood continued for some time even after the death of the illustrious Modenese provost of the Pomposa church and was not always
expressed with due academic respect. Zaccaria himself complained, recalling
a text by the Portuguese jurist Dionisio Bernardes de Moraes, which Muratori’s grandson also recalled with indignation in his uncle’s biography.23
The controversy over the vow of blood had dissolved, prudently stopped
by Muratori himself, who no longer returned to the subject, devoting him20. See the presentation in the Florentine Novelle Letterarie, 4 (1743), n. 7 (Feb. 15),
110–12, also reproduced in Emanuello Maria Giraldez Vesino, Dialoghi critici e apologetici
[. . .] intorno al preteso eroico zelo di alcuni antagonisti del celebratissimo Lodovico Antonio Muratori, fu bibliotecario del Serenissimo Signor Duca di Modena (Venezia: Nella Stamperia di Giambatista Albrizzi q. Girol., 1757), 162–166.
21. [Zaccaria], Storia letteraria d’Italia, V, 434.
22. See Lodovico Antonio Muratori, Il Cristianesimo felice nelle missioni de’ Padri della
Compagnia di Gesù nel Paraguai, 2 vols. (Venezia: Presso Giambatista Pasquali, 1743–49).
23. See [Zaccaria], Storia letteraria d’Italia, V, 435, where, referring to the book by Dioniso Bernardes de Moraes, Coruscationes dogmaticas, universo orbi Terrae pro recta sacramenti
poenitentiae administratione refulgentes, in varios distributas radios, quibus noxia praxis detegendi
complices destruitur, atque variae propositiones tum Morini, tum Muratorii, tum aliorum dissipantur [. . .] (Ulyssiponae: Typis Michaelis Rodrigues, 1748), he defined the author “subject by
adventure more apt to unduly scramble such a great man, as still in my opinion at this point
from the prejudices drawn out of the right path, than to dispute as a moderate, and learned
theologians.” Gian Francesco Soli Muratori defined Bernardes de Moraes’ book “the most
infamous, which has ever been published against Muratori [. . .] composed with too much
hatred and liveliness [. . .] and chock full of injuries, slanders, contumelias, and villains” (Soli
Muratori, Vita del proposto Lodovico Antonio Muratori, 142–43; also see 118).

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THE EFFECTIVENESS OF AN ANONYMOUS PEN

self to other studies, mainly historical. But the theological debate survived,
fused and confused with questions of international politics due to the pressures of Spain, while some late booklets of contestation still appeared.24
4. For Zaccaria the anti-Muratorian confrontation, although officially conducted through anonymity which scholars took care to reveal, constituted an
exceptional literary debut. His career, which developed brilliantly, continued
more or less serenely, although still crossing with the famous Muratori, of
whom he became the successor in directing the Estense Library in Modena.
Zaccaria lived for some time in Pistoia (1745) expanding the field of his
preaching in central Italy, starting with the Marches. He continued to
explore archives and libraries in the cities where he went for ministry and
devoted himself to historical and theological research, remaining in contact
with numerous scholars of his time, both Italian and foreign, Catholic and
Protestant, including Angelo Maria Querini, Giuseppe Garampi,
Francesco Gori, Joannes Stilting, Scipione Maffei, Domenico Schiavo,
Johann Salomo Semler, and Jean-François Séguier, among others. Then he
went to Milan, where he took his final vows as a Jesuit on August 15, 1748.
He continued writing, sometimes anonymously or resorting to a pseudonym (Domenico Tabacco), and even more often in controversy with
contemporary authors.
He contributed to the work of the Bollandist Society with scholarly
communications.
In 1750, in Venice, he began, once again in anonymous form, the publication of the Storia letteraria, through which he intended to transfer to
Italy the experiment of the Mémoires de Trévoux.25 He therefore promised
to make a volume appear every year with a review of books printed in Italy,
ultimately producing fourteen volumes. After the suppression of the Society
24. Marco Iacovella, “«Fabbricatori di ciarle». La disputa sul ‘voto sanguinario’ attraverso il carteggio muratoriano (1740–1743),” Rivista di Storia e Letteratura Religiosa, 49
(2013), 175–300.
25. The first volume of the work, which appeared anonymously, had a second edition
in the same year. The author, however, revealed his name only in the preface of the second
volume, responding to those who had criticized the initiative and inaugurating that series of
controversies, apologies, and retractions that would have marked the development of the
work, also worrying the religious superiors of Zaccaria. See Alfred R. Desautels, Les Mémoires
de Trévoux et le mouvement des idées au XVIII e siècle, 1701–1734 (Rome, 1956); and Robert J.
Favre, Claude Labrosse, and Pierre Rétat, Bilan et perspectives de recherche sur les Mémoires de
Trévoux, in: Les Jésuites au XVIII e siècle (Paris, 1976), 237–56.

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357

of Jesus, his successor in Modena, Girolamo Tiraboschi, treasured this
lesson and continued the literary experiment with the successful Nuovo
Giornale de’ Letterati d’Italia, that appeared from 1773 to 1790. He thus
made an important contribution both to current book production and to the
historiographic reconstruction of the literary movement of his time and of
the authors’ biographies. The initial collaborators were the confreres
Leonardo Ximenes, mathematician and astronomer; Domenico Troili, naturalist and astronomer; and Gioacchino Gabardi, man of letters. To these,
others were later added, such as Giambattista Roberti, Giuseppe Ignazio
Crollalanza, Camillo Barbieri, Stanislao Bardetti, Giovanni Buongiuochi,
Giuseppe Zauli, and Jacopo Belgrado, among others. The work immediately sparked controversy. Zaccaria was at the center of a network of erudite
literary, historical, and theological disputes, with well-known writers of the
religious orders more hostile to the Society of Jesus, as well as with lesserknown authors injured by the roughness of Zaccaria’s criticism. Jesuit superiors were apprehensive about the continuous literary disputes triggered by
the Storia, which adversaries called “an inexorable and terrible tribunal.”26
In fact, the Father General of the Jesuits, Father Ignazio Visconti, was ready
to ask for the cessation of the work, although he was prevented from doing
so by Francesco III of Modena, to whom the publication had been dedicated from the fourth volume onwards, as a greater guarantee to the author.
While Zaccaria refused the invitation of Cardinal Querini to take over
the direction of the library he established in Brescia (1752), he took it upon
himself to correspond on the Italian production of several French,
German, and Dutch periodicals, including the Journal étranger, the Journal
encyclopédique, and the Italienische Bibliothek. Francesco III Duke of
Modena wanted him to succeed Muratori in the position of prefect of the
Estense Library (1756).27 In his new office, he took care to enlarge the
building and expand its collections with many foreign books.
Due to the fame achieved, various academies joined in, including the
academy of the Catenati in Macerata (1751), the Colombaria in Florence
and the academy of ecclesiastical history in Lucca (1753), the Etruscan
26. Eusebio Eraniste [pseudonym of Giovanni Vincenzo Patuzzi], Lettere teologicomorali in continuazione della difesa della storia del probabilismo e rigorismo ec. del P. Daniello Concina, III (Trento [but Venezia, Simone Occhi,] 1753), LIV. Zaccaria replied to the Lettere
with one of the volumes of the Storia letteraria d’Italia, VIII.2: Difesa della Storia letteraria d’Italia, e del suo autore contro le Lettere teologico-morali di certo P. Eusebio Eraniste ed altre Lettere
d’un Mascherato Rambaldo Norimene (Modena: A spese Remondini, 1755).
27. See Enrico Rosa, “Tre gesuiti successori del Muratori nella Biblioteca Estense di
Modena,” La Civiltà Cattolica, 89 (1938), II, 225–36 and 341–50.

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THE EFFECTIVENESS OF AN ANONYMOUS PEN

academy in Cortona and then the academies of Livorno, Crema, Reggio
Emilia, Fermo and Busseto (1754), Palermo and Pesaro (1755), Mantova
(1756), Crati (1757), Rovigo (1758), Capodistria (1760), those of Umbra
in Foligno (1761), of the Pescatori Cratilidi in Cosenza and those of the
Immobili in Alexandria (1762). He was also welcomed by the Roman
Arcadia (1762), where he took the name Claristo-Sycionio.28
He committed himself to the conflict against Jansenism by reprinting
works of various moralists, both Jesuits and non-Jesuits, with additions and
integrations, and by promoting new works, such as Alfonso de Liguori’s
Teologia morale, which he published with his preface.29 His doctrinal positions brought him many enemies and much criticism.
Because of anonymity, several polemical writings were wrongly or
rightly assigned to the fatherhood of Zacharias, creating difficulties for him
and embarrassment for the Society of Jesus. A delicate dispute started from
the court of Naples in 1763 motivated by a bad review of Le Antichità di
Ercolano Esposte that appeared in the Milanese Frusta Letteraria and was
attributed to him. The unhappiness of Charles of Bourbon, former king of
Naples (1734–59) and now of Spain (1759–88) and the protests of
Bernardo Tanucci reached, through the Neapolitan ambassador to the
Holy See, Cardinal Domenico Orsini, up to the Jesuit superior general
Lorenzo Ricci. Father Zaccaria was never a stranger to harsh criticism; on
this occasion it came from Giuseppe Baretti, the true editor of the
Milanese newspaper, even if he signed with the pseudonym of Aristarco
Scannabue. The lively Jesuit also worked to signal the monumental publication of the Herculaneum Academy in positive terms. But everything was
in vain. In fact, to satisfy the King of Spain and his powerful Neapolitan
minister, Father Lorenzo Ricci, for “reverence due to the sovereigns,”
reluctantly and temporarily suspended him from his active and passive
voice, imposed eight days of spiritual exercises and hurried to explain prudently the Jesuit writer’s estrangement from the facts charged to him.30
28. See Voti quinquennali celebrati dagli Arcadi nel Bosco Parrasio ad onore della santità di
Nostro Signore Papa Pio VI, ([Roma]: Nella Stamperia Salomoni [1780]), 35.
29. See Hermann Busenbaum, Theologia moralis nunc pluribus partibus aucta a R.P.D.
Alphonso de Ligorio [. . .] adjuncta in calce operis, [. . .] perutili instructione ad praxim confessariorum. [. . .] Accedit etiam R.P. Francisci Antonii Zachariæ [. . .] dissertatio prolegomena de casuisticæ theologiæ originibus, locis atque prestantia. Editio quarta accuratius a mendis expurgata,
novisque doctrinis [. . .] ab auctore ipso nunc primum locupletata, 3 vols. (Romæ: Sumptibus
Remondinianis, 1760).
30. Rome, Archivum Romanum Societatis Jesu, Epp. NN. 20a, pp. 182–86. Giuseppe
Baretti, threatened with the confiscation of the work and legal consequences by Bernardo

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359

During his tenure in Modena, Zaccaria found himself at the center of
anti-Jesuit tensions. An investigation into his work took place between
1764 and 1765. The cultural gaps and the lively and apologetic publishing
activity brought him opposition on several fronts: not only with antiJesuits inside the court, with particular reference to Pellegrino Niccolò
Loschi, but also with the Roman Curia circles, which were eager for a
greater diplomatic balance. His work Anti-Febronio, o sia Apologia polemicostorica del primato del Papa (1767) was very unwelcome in the court and was
prohibited in the Este territories.31 It offered the Duke, also under Austrian pressure, a reason for removing him from the office of librarian. In
April 1768, therefore, replaced in the library by his brother Giovanni
Granelli, Zaccaria was recalled to Rome and was appointed as librarian in
the Casa del Gesù, while Clement XIII provided him with a substantial
pension. In Rome he resumed his work against the jurisdictionalism of
Johann Nikolaus von Hotheim, publishing, in four tomes, the anonymous
Antifebronius vindicatus (1771–72).32
The subsequent suppression of the Society of Jesus (1773) left Zaccaria
without means—principally without books—and he was obliged not to leave
Rome after being briefly imprisoned in Castel Sant’Angelo. Cardinal Mario
Compagnoni Marefoschi made his library available to him, thus allowing
him to continue his studies and to print other works. Only with the advent
of Pius VI was the order of restriction canceled, the pension he already
enjoyed increased, and he was granted the jubilation of teaching ecclesiastical
history at the Sapienza University, a course which had just started; he was
also granted permission to recover his personal library from Bologna, where
he had deposited the manuscripts on which he had been working. Out of
gratitude, Zaccaria accompanied the Pope’s pastoral initiatives with his studies on the jubilee, the pontifical primacy, and liturgical rites.
Tanucci, who put pressure on the Venetian government, had to write two dense letters of justifications in December 1763. As a repair, a few months later he had particularly flattering
words printed for Charles of Bourbon and his son Ferdinand IV, presenting with extraordinary enthusiasm the first volume of the Antiquities of Herculaneum dedicated to paintings
(Frusta Letteraria, February 1, 1764, no. 9, pp. 125–27). On the story, see Giuseppe Baretti,
Scritti scelti inediti o rari di Giuseppe Baretti, con nuove memorie della sua vita, ed. Pietro
Custodi, I (Milan, 1822), 97–81.
31. See Francesco Antonio Zaccaria, Anti-Febbronio [. . .] o sia Apologia polemico-storica
del primato del papa consecrata alla santità di N.S. papa Clemente XIII contro la dannata opera di
Giustino Febbronio, dello Stato della Chiesa, e della legittima podestà del Romano Pontefice, 2 vols.
(Pesaro: Dalla Stamperia Amatina, 1767).
32. [Francesco Antonio Zaccaria], Antifebronius vindicatus seu Suprema Romani Pontificis potestas adversus Justinum Febronium ejusque vindicem Theodorum a Palude iterum adserta,
& confirmata, 4 vols. (Cæsenæ: Apud Gregorium Blasinium sub signo Palladis, 1771–72).

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THE EFFECTIVENESS OF AN ANONYMOUS PEN

FIGURE 2. Frontispiece of the work of Francesco Antonio Zaccaria, Anti-Febbronio
o sia Apologia polemico-storica del Primato del Papa. Parte prima polemica premettesi
una istruttiva introduzione (…), In Pesaro, dalla stamperia Amatina, 1767 (digitized copy of the one kept in the National Library of Florence and available online).

Francesco Antonio Zaccaria died in Rome on October 10, 1795, and
was buried in the Church of the Apollinare (the text of his tombstone was
composed by the rector of the college, Father Giovanni Castiglione). He
was a prolific author, and several of his writings remained unpublished,
including Commentario della sua propria vita, among others. He also left
behind an extensive collection of his correspondence over the years with
the major intellectuals of the eighteenth century.33
33. The best biographical profile is that of Luigi Cuccagni, “Elogio storico, o sia breve
storia della vita dell’abate Francesco Antonio Zaccaria, già individuo della soppressa Compagnia di Gesù,” Supplemento al Giornale Ecclesiastico di Roma, 8 (1796), 193–352 (also Roma:
Presso Giovanni Zempel, 1796); a list of Zaccaria’s works is on pp. 142–58 of the volume,
but see also Backer, Carayon, and de Backer, Bibliothèque de la Compagnie de Jésus, VIII,
1381–435; IX, 1900, 1911. See also Hugo Hurter, Nomenclator literarius theologiae catholicae
theologos exhibens aetate, natione, disciplinis distinctos, V.1: Theologiae catholicae aetas recens (Innsbruck, 19113), 484–98; Donato Scioscioli, La vita e le opere di Francesco Antonio Zaccaria, erudito del secolo XVIII. Studio biografico e critico (Brescia, 1925); Enrico Rosa, “Gli scritti e il carteggio di F.A. Zaccaria in un archivio della Guipuzcoa,” La Civiltà Cattolica, 80 (1929), IV,
118–30; Id., “La vita e le opere di Francesco Antonio Zaccaria,” La Civiltà Cattolica, 81
(1930), I, 339–51; Id., “Nuovi documenti sulla vita e le opere di F.A. Zaccaria,” La Civiltà

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361

FIGURE 3. Frontispiece of the work of Francesco Antonio Zaccaria, Anti-Febbronio
o sia Apologia polemico-storica del Primato del Papa. Parte seconda storica o sia Storia
del primato del papa ne’ primo otto secoli della Chiesa. (…), In Pesaro, dalla stamperia
Amatina, 1767 (digitized copy of the one kept in the State Library of the National
Monument of S. Scolastica of Subiaco and available online).


For Francesco Antonio Zaccaria, his youthful confrontation with the
great Muratori was a precious opportunity for his debut, as it was said then,
in the Republic of Letters. But it was also a good training ground to master
the technique of anonymous writing or pseudepigraphy, to which he later
resorted several times with his sharp pen, to accompany that will of merciless censorship and the strong polemical taste of his personality, enhanced
by Jesuit education and by the Society’s commitment to his defense.
Cattolica, 81 (1930), I, 509–17; Id., “Pubblicazioni e tribolazioni del P. F.A. Zaccaria,” La
Civiltà Cattolica, 81 (1930), III, 27–40, 121–30; Pedro de Leturia, “Il concetto di nazione italiana nel grande antigiansenista Francesco Antonio Zaccaria (1714–1795) secondo fonti
dell’Archivio di Loyola,” in: Nuove ricerche storiche sul giansenismo. Studi presentati nella Sezione
di Storia Ecclesiastica del Congresso Internazionale per il IV centenario della Pontificia Università
Gregoriana, 13–17 ottobre 1953 (Rome, 1954), 231–57; Mario Zanfredini, “Zaccaria, Francesco Antonio,” in: Diccionario Histórico de la Compañía de Jesús, Charles E. O’Neill, Joaquín M.
Domínguez, eds., 4 vols. (Rome, 2001), IV, 4063–64; and Simona Negruzzo, "Zaccaria,
Francesco Antonio," in: Dizionario biografico degli italiani, 100 (Rome, 2020), 321−23.

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THE EFFECTIVENESS OF AN ANONYMOUS PEN

As in the case of the anti-Muratorian debate of Zaccaria’s juvenile
years, as presented above, the absence of a signature in his work cannot be
justified as the result of a fear of censorship, since it supported a major traditional theological line, nor can it be explained as the result of a need to
escape the retaliation of an adversary, who was known to be a gentle and
tolerant man, who also lacked strong political support capable of creating
harassment for his opponents. It is easier, on the contrary, to imagine that
the initial anonymity (later revealed by intellectual friends or by the journalists of the time) served to focus the reader’s attention on the written
message and not on the author’s good or bad reputation, to intrigue the
reader through the lack of knowledge of the true author, which also meant
non-knowledge of the party to which the author belonged, leaving all to be
discovered in the turning of the pages. The pseudonymous literary market
functioned well. The topic treated by the anonymous author—obvious,
logical, and consolidated—was therefore so strong and convincing in itself
that it did not need either the embellished academic qualifications of the
unknown author or his good reputation (if already consolidated). It is
rather like saying vox populi, vox Dei.

Funding the Mission: Jesuit Networks,
Outsider Access, and
“The Origins of Marquette College” Revisited
H. RICHARD FRIMAN*
This article explores the impact of external and internal challenges
facing private donor networks for funding Jesuit overseas missions.
Revisiting Garraghan’s influential study of “The Origins of Marquette
College,” the article reveals understudied sources of network disruption
that facilitated outsider access to the Belgian Jesuit funding network for
the Missouri Mission and how the outsider’s subsequent missteps
enabled the network’s recovery. The article adds to the growing literature on Jesuit finances and overseas missions by calling attention to the
challenges created by divisions within networks over funding priorities
and practices.
Keywords: Jesuit financial networks, overseas missions, John
Martin Henni, Missouri Mission

O

n January 12, 1849, Bishop John Martin Henni of Milwaukee wrote
his friend and supporter Father Joseph Ferdinand Mueller at the
Ludwig-Missionsverein in Munich with surprising news.1 At a meeting in
December, a wealthy Antwerp donor long supportive of Jesuit causes,
Guillaume-Joseph De Boey, had pledged 75,000 francs ($15,000) with a
down payment of 15,000 francs ($3,000) to establish a Jesuit college in
Henni’s Wisconsin diocese.2 This seminal event in the origins of what
*H. Richard Friman is Professor of Political Science and Eliot Fitch Chair for International Studies at Marquette University. His email address is: h.r.friman@marquette.edu. He
would like to thank colleagues in and outside of Marquette for their comments and suggestions, the Jesuit Archives and Research Center (JARC) in St. Louis, the Archdiocese of Milwaukee Archives (AMA), and especially the anonymous reviewers.
1. John Martin Henni to Joseph Ferdinand Mueller, January 12, 1849. Translated from
the German by Peter Leo Johnson from letters originally reprinted in the St. Francis Seminary journal The Salesianum. Below as Salesianum. The collection is available at
https://www.archmil.org/ArchdioceseofMilwaukee/history/MC-017-Henni-Letters.pdf.
2. Gilbert J. Garraghan, S.J., “Marquette University in the Making,” Illinois Catholic
Historical Review 2, no. 4 (1920), 417–46, here 424, 426, 437–38, 445; Gilbert J. Garraghan,
S.J., The Jesuits of the Middle United States, online vol. 2 (Chicago, 1938 republished 1983–84),

363

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FUNDING THE MISSION

would become Marquette College in 1881, later Marquette University,3
was more than a fundraising success.4 The donation also represented a disruption to the Belgian Jesuit funding network for the Missouri Mission.
For decades Belgian Jesuits had worked to cultivate a private donor
network for overseas missions. By the late 1830s they faced challenges
from larger, rival fundraising institutions such as the Rome-backed Society for the Propagation of the Faith. By the 1840s with the Missouri
Vice-Province overextended and in increasing financial disarray, Jesuit
leadership turned to restricting access to donors by the very overseas missions the network had been established to support. This article explores
the sources of the breakdown in the network that facilitated Henni’s
access to one of its major donors in 1848. Scholarship on Jesuit financing
of overseas missions through private donor networks has emphasized
external challenges from governments, the Church, rival networks, and
public backlash.5 This article calls attention to additional challenges posed
by internal network fissures.
Chapter 37 (here 352–54; also the source for the article’s subtitle quotation). See note 6 below
on the citation format used for the Garraghan volumes.
3. Raphael N. Hamilton, The Story of Marquette University: An Object Lesson in the
Development of Catholic Higher Education (Milwaukee, 1953), 3–5; Thomas J. Jablonsky, Milwaukee’s Jesuit University: Marquette 1881–1981 (Milwaukee, 2007), 17–18, 22–25.
4. The U.S. dollar value of the pledge is based on a rough 5:1 exchange rate used by
Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch30), 91–92. See also, David M. Brumbach, “Peter John De Smet,
S.J. Fundraiser and Promoter of Missions” (Ph.D. Dissertation, Washington State University, 1992), 36 n. 26). Jablonsky places the dollar value of the pledge at $16,000 suggesting a
more nuanced 4.6875:1 exchange rate. Using these rates the 1848 pledge in 2020 dollars
would be roughly equivalent to $491,000 and $524,000 respectively.
5. Fred Vermote, “Finances of the Missions,” in: A Companion to Early Modern Catholic
Global Missions, ed. Ronnie Po-Chia Hsia (Leiden, 2018), 367–400. See also, Edward John
Hickey, “The Society for the Propagation of the Faith: Its Foundation, Organization and
Success (1822–1922),” (Doctoral Dissertation, The Catholic University of America Studies in
American Church History, Vol III, 1922); Theodore Roemer, Ten Decades of Alms (St. Louis
and London, 1942); Benjamin J. Blied, Austrian Aid to American Catholics, 1830–1860 (Milwaukee, 1944); Dauril Alden, The Making of An Enterprise: The Society of Jesus in Portugal, Its
Empire, and Beyond 1540–1750 (Stanford, 1996); Jan De Maeyer, Sofie Leplae, and Joachim
Schmiedl, Religious Institutes in Western Europe in the 19th and 20th Centuries: Historiography,
Research and Legal Position (Leuven, 2004); Dame Olwen Hufton, “Faith, Hope and Money:
the Jesuits and the Genesis of Fundraising for Education, 1550–1650,” Historical Research, 81,
no. 214 (November, 2008), 585–609; Luke Clossey, Salvation and the Globalization in the
Early Jesuit Missions (New York, 2008); Maarten Van Dijck, Jan De Maeyer, Jeffery Tyssens,
and Jimmy Koppen, eds., The Economics of Providence: Management, Finances and Patrimony of
Religious Orders and Congregations in Europe, 1773–c 1930 / L’économie de la providence : la gestion, les finances et la patrimoine des ordres et congrégations religieuses en Europe, 1773–vers 1930
(Leuven, 2012); and additional sources referenced below.

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365

Building on the path-breaking historical work of Gilbert J. Garraghan,6 the article’s first section reviews the origins of the Belgian funding
network for the Missouri Mission. The section also introduces the importance of De Boey’s place in the network, and discusses the restrictions by
the 1840s faced by representatives of the Missouri Vice-Province in accessing major donors. The second section turns to Henni, his European
fundraising experiences prior to 1848, and his path as an outsider into the
network. Here the article reveals why and how the Belgian network fractured. The external shock of the 1848 revolutions in Europe and the dislocation of the Swiss Jesuits increased network tensions. Faced with leadership failures in responding to the dislocation, Antwerp Jesuits provided
Henni with access. The third section turns to how the funding network
adjusted to the shock of the donation. Here the article reveals how missteps by Henni in 1849 created opportunities for Jesuits in Belgium and
the Missouri Vice-Province to reassert influence over the donation process
through the use of intermediaries. The article’s final section briefly turns to
the implications of the case study for the broader literature on Jesuit funding networks for overseas missions.
The Belgian Funding Network
Belgian donors were an essential source of funding for the Jesuit mission
established in the Missouri Territory in 1823.7 Initially the donor network
consisted of contributions by family members and other supporters of the
young Belgians recruited as candidates for the Jesuit novitiate in the United
States. The network increased in reach and importance as the Superior General of the Society of Jesus, Father Jan Roothaan, granted the Missouri Mission independent status from the umbrella of the Maryland Mission in 1831
and approved the creation of the Missouri Vice-Province in 1840.8 Early
6. See Garraghan’s “Marquette University in the Making” and his multivolume work
The Jesuits of the Middle United States. The latter is cited below by the online volume numbers
available at http://jesuitarchives.org/virtuallygarraghan/. Chapter numbers are included for
vol. 2 due to page numbers restarting mid-volume in the online version.
7. This article explores only a portion of the mission’s history. For a focus on Central
Missouri, see John T. McGreevy, American Jesuits and the World: How an Embattled Religious
Order Made Modern Catholicism Global (Princeton, 2016), 63–103.
8. Superior General from 1829 to 1853. Garraghan’s dates on status vary, see The
Jesuits1, 314–15, 338, 490. On Roothaan’s emphasis on overseas missions, see Klaus Schatz,
Geschichte der deutschen Jesuiten (1814–1983), Band I: (1814–1872) (Münster, 2013), 36, 38–
41; John T. McGreevy, “Restored Jesuits: Notes toward a Global History,” in: The Jesuits and
Globalization: Historical Legacies and Contemporary Challenges, ed. Thomas Banchoff and José
Casanova (Washington, DC, 2016), 131–46, here 136–38; McGreevy, American Jesuits and
the World, 14–15.

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FUNDING THE MISSION

FIGURE 1. Engraving of Jean-Philippe Roothaan (1785–1853) by D. Desvachez.
Public Domain.

Belgian recruits to the United States included Pierre-Jean De Smet, James
Van de Velde, and John Anthony Elet who would all play critical roles in the
Vice-Province as discussed below.9 Fundraising trips back to Europe by
these Jesuits, replete with stories of work among the Indians in Missouri and
points west and the need for more resources and staffing, expanded the reach
of the financial networks. During the late 1830s what David Brumbach
describes as “ecclesiastical authorities” in Rome sought to bring Belgian
donor networks into a centralized pool of fundraising for overseas missions
under the auspices of the Society for the Propagation of the Faith. Still, the
independent Belgian networks persisted.10 By the 1840s, funding dynamics
changed as access to the networks tightened. Missouri Jesuits seeking access
to Belgian donors required permission from Roothaan as well as the Belgian
Provincial Father Charles Franckeville.11 Tracing these fundraising efforts
9. On the recruiting efforts of Father Charles Nerinckx in 1816 and 1820, see Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 14–15, 17–19, 131, 504; Vincent Viaene, Belgium and the Holy See from
Gregory XVI to Pius IX (1831–1859): Catholic Revival, Society and Politics in 19th Century
Europe (Leuven, 2001), 192–94; Marc Lindeijer, Jo Luyten, and Kristien Suenens, “The
Quick Downfall and Slow Rise of the Jesuit Order in the Low Countries,” in: The Survival of
the Jesuits in the Low Countries, 1773–1850, ed. Leo Kenis and Marc Lindeijer (Leuven,
2019), 28–29.
10. Brumbach, “Peter John De Smet,” 25, 29.
11. Franckeville served as Provincial from 1839 to 1845, and again from 1848 to 1854.

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367

FIGURE 2. Father Charles Franckeville, S.J., courtesy of KADOC-KU Leuven,
Audiovisueel archief Vlaamse provincie van de Sociëteit van Jezus.

offers insights into network structure and helps to set the context that Henni
faced in 1848.
The Origins of the Network
Garraghan describes how Louis DuBourg, Bishop of Louisiana and
the Floridas, laid the initial groundwork for the Missouri Mission.12
DuBourg began with appeals in Europe and Maryland for Jesuit staffing
and by cobbling together Indian mission funding from the U.S. government and donations from east-coast Catholic congregations.13 In 1823
DuBourg donated his farm in Florissant, Missouri to the Jesuits to use as
the initial base for their operations. Faced with an outstanding mortgage
and lacking funds to acquire and thus transfer full title to the property,
DuBourg successfully appealed to the Society for the Propagation of the
Faith for financial assistance in 1824 to pay off the mortgage and complete
12. Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 35. See also Annabelle M. Melville, Louis William
DuBourg: Bishop of Louisiana and the Floridas, Bishop of Montauban, and Archbishop of Besançon,
1766–1833, 2 vols, II: Bishop in Two Worlds, 1818–1833 (Chicago, 1986), 623–43.
13. Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 44–72, 154–57.

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FUNDING THE MISSION

the donation.14 Established in 1823 in Lyon, France, the Society was the
outgrowth of an idea DuBourg first proposed in 1815 for establishing a
“society for financing Catholic Foreign Missions.”15 Although the Society
would occasionally provide support over the next two decades,16 the Missouri Mission relied more on expanding its own donor network.17
Garraghan points to “M. Pierre Jean De Nef, director of St. Joseph’s
College, Turnout in Belgium” as a primary figure providing support to the
mission. De Nef had amassed considerable wealth and influence in the textile and wine trades and helped to fund the passage of DuBourg’s first
waves of Belgian recruits to the United States.18 De Nef expanded his
recruitment efforts in Belgium on behalf of the mission during the 1830s,
sending contingents to the United States in 1832, 1834, and 1837.19 By the
early 1830s, De Nef also had established an “informal missionary aid society” in Belgium consisting of some thirty people including GuillaumeJoseph De Boey.20 Among this society’s efforts, De Nef along with De
Boey established a stock speculation company in 1832 to raise funds.21 De
Nef continued to provide financial support to the Missouri Jesuits until his
death in 1844.22
On arrival in Missouri, Belgian recruits wrote to De Nef about the
mission’s needs.23 By the 1830s this role in appeals had fallen primarily to
14. Ibid., 107, 140–41, 143–44, 367.
15. Ibid., 367. See also Melville, Louis William DuBourg, 582-84.
16. Society funding included $1,000 in 1832, $6,000 in 1843, and $11,200 in 1846 (with
roughly eighty percent of the 1846 support intended for western Indian missions). Smaller
amounts came from other aid societies in Austria and Bavaria. Ibid., 369–70, 467–68.
17. For early requests and support, see Ibid., 65, 210. Schatz notes Roothaan’s impact
on the overseas missions as including an emphasis on tighter linkages with home provinces /
countries both to retain identity and to facilitate financial support from European Catholics.
Schatz, Geschichte der deutschen Jesuiten, 39-40.
18. Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 17–19, 338; Brumbach, “Peter John De Smet,” 20; Eugène
Laveille, The Life of Father De Smet S.J. (1801–1873), trans. Marian Lindsay (Chicago, 1981;
reprint of 1915 original), 63–64; Lindeijer, Luyten, and Suenens, “The Quick Downfall,” 29.
19. Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 345, 347, 358.
20. Brumbach, “Peter John De Smet,” 20. On De Boey’s support for religious causes in
Belgium, donations to the Society for the Propagation of the Faith, and the Missouri Mission, see Garraghan, “Marquette University in the Making,” 424–25; Garraghan, The
Jesuits2(Ch37), 353–55.
21. Laveille, The Life of Father De Smet, 64; Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 373. Garraghan
notes stock speculation and handling the financial affairs of wealthy clients as the sources of
De Boey’s wealth, The Jesuits2(Ch37), 353–54.
22. Brumbach, “Peter John De Smet,” 28–29.
23. Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 338–42.

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369

FIGURE 3. Pierre-Jean De Smet. Library of Congress description: “Rev. Father
Pierre Jean De Smet (1801–1873) Catholic missionary to Indian Territory.”
Mathew Brady—Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division. BradyHandy Photograph Collection. http://hdl.loc.gov/loc.pnp/cwpbh.03561. CALL
NUMBER: LC-BH824-5343 <P&P>[P&P]

Pierre-Jean De Smet. Born into a wealthy, influential Catholic family in
Termonde (Dendermonde), De Smet arrived in Maryland in 1821 and
after studies at Georgetown joined the Missouri Mission in 1823.24
Although involved initially in Indian mission work, in 1830 De Smet was
appointed as procurator for St. Louis College.25 Transferred by DuBourg
to the Jesuits in 1827, the college by 1829 had acquired enough land and
local support to facilitate its initial foundation and subsequent state charter
as a university in 1832, but by the 1830s was struggling financially.26 De
Smet served for two years as procurator before petitioning to return to
Europe for health reasons. Granted a deferment of his final vows, De Smet
24. Brumbach, “Peter John De Smet,” 2–3, 6, 12
25. Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 298, 341–42. Scholarship on De Smet is extensive, particularly that focusing on his Indian mission work. For example, see also John J. Killoren, “Come,
Black Robe”: De Smet and the Indian Tragedy (Norman, OK, and London, 1994); Robert C.
Carriker, Father Peter John De Smet: Jesuit in the West (Norman, OK, and London, 1995); and
George Bishop, Black Robe and Tomahawk: The Life and Travels of Fr. Pierre-Jean De Smet, SJ
(1801–1873) (Leominster, Herefordshire, 2003).
26. Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 284–89.

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FUNDING THE MISSION

spent his time in Belgium garnering support for the Missouri Mission and
petitioning for a return.27
While in Belgium, De Smet worked with De Nef to recruit new candidates, fund their travel, and expand the network of financial support. By
the time he was prepared to return to the United States in November 1834,
De Smet had collected the sum of 42,592 francs (over $8,500) and boxes
of “vestments, altar furniture, books, paintings and scientific instruments.”28 Illness during the voyage forced him to depart the ship in England and return to Belgium. Even though he left the Jesuit order for health
reasons, De Smet continued to work with De Nef raising funds on behalf
of the Missouri Mission.29 In August 1837, acting on behalf of the
Trustees of St. Louis University, De Smet negotiated loans totaling
125,000 francs ($25,000) from Jesuit supporters in Ghyseghem
(Gijzegem).30 During this period De Smet also began what would become
a long relationship with De Boey. An admirer of De Smet’s mission work,
De Boey contributed 10,000 florins ($4,000) to the construction of the St.
Louis University chapel in 1836. In September 1837, De Boey also asked
De Smet for the best means of sending future financial support and provided seven boxes of gifts to take back with him to the university.31 That
same year De Boey also financed the trip of one of his nephews, Guillaume
Crabeels, to Missouri as one of De Nef’s latest class of recruits.32

27. Ibid., 350–52. Carriker posits that he was sent to Europe for the express purpose of
fundraising. Carriker, Father Peter John De Smet, 14.
28. Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 353–55. Carriker places the figure at “nearly sixty thousand
francs (eleven thousand dollars) from fifty prominent Catholic families in northern Europe.”
Carriker, Father Peter John De Smet, 15.
29. Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 356–58; Brumbach, “Peter John De Smet,” 23; Carriker,
Father Peter John De Smet, 16.
30. Garraghan (The Jesuits1, 358) identifies the donors as “Baroness de Ghyseghem née
the Countess de Bobiano [sic], and her daughter Elizabeth” from De Smet’s hometown of
Termonde. The more likely donor was “Baroness Elisabeth Marie Le Candèle née Countess
de Robiano” who was a well-known supporter of the Jesuits. See Lindeijer, Luyten, and Suenens, “The Quick Downfall,” 23–24; see also Kristien Suenens, Humble Women, Powerful
Nuns: A Female Struggle for Autonomy in a Men’s Church (Leuven, 2020), 48, 50.
31. Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 373–74. On the rate of 2.5 florins to a dollar, see Brumbach, “Peter John De Smet,” 36 n. 26.
32. Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 358. Crabeels placed the date as 1835. On the family connection with De Boey, see Edouard Terwecoren, “L’Affaire de Buck,” Collection Préces de Historiques: Mèlanges Littéraires et Scientifiques, vol. 13 (Bruxelles, 1864), 298–380, here 343.

H. RICHARD FRIMAN

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Network Access Tightens
During the 1840s, the financial strains on the now Missouri ViceProvince increased with the costs of the Indian missions in Oregon and
operations in Missouri including the drain of university expansion.33 Yet
the avenues for Belgian support had become more complicated. Beginning
in 1838, the Society for the Propagation of the Faith faced a challenge in
its collection and routing of funds for overseas Catholic missions. The
Society’s success had prompted the rise of similar organizations. Although
Belgian bishops had been participating in the Society since 1825, concerns
that the funds they collected were not going to Belgian overseas missions
led to a temporary separation.34 Austria-Hungary established the separate
Leopoldinen-Stiftung in Vienna in 1829 to support overseas missions serving German-speaking communities.35 In 1838, King Ludwig of Bavaria
backed the formation of the Ludwig-Missionsverein out of concerns that
funds collected by dioceses in Bavaria beginning in 1836 and sent to the
Society for distribution were serving French interests more than those of
overseas German missions.36 The Bavarian defection and risks that even
more funds collected outside of France would bypass the Society for the
Propagation of the Faith prompted the Sacred Congregation de Propaganda Fide in Rome in January 1839 to call for an end to independent
fundraising organizations.37
Although such a push threatened the De Nef fundraising network, an
ongoing issue was the collection and distribution of funds already being
routed through the Society for the Propagation of the Faith.38 These
included funds collected through Belgian churches as well as by the Association of St. Xavier. Established in “about 1836” in North Brabant, the
33. On the Oregon missions, see Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch24–25), 236–441.
34. Roemer, Ten Decades of Alms, 65; Hickey, “The Society for the Propagation of the
Faith,” 110–11.
35. Hickey, “The Society for the Propagation of the Faith,” 40–41; Garraghan, The
Jesuits1, 370, 467–68; Blied, Austrian Aid to American Catholics, 19–29.
36. Father Frederick Rese, vicar general of Cincinnati and later Bishop of Detroit, was
instrumental in the foundation of both the Austrian and Bavarian organizations. See Peter
Leo Johnson, Crosier on the Frontier: A Life of John Martin Henni, Archbishop of Milwaukee
(Madison, WI, 1959), 91; Roemer, Ten Decades of Alms, 47–61; Hickey, “The Society for the
Propagation of the Faith,” 42–43, 110–11; Blied, Austrian Aid to American Catholics, 29–34;
Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 370.
37. Hickey, “The Society for the Propagation of the Faith,” 94, 98–99; Roemer, Ten
Decades of Alms, 55–56; Brumbach, “Peter John De Smet,” 25.
38. For concerns raised by De Smet’s brother, see Brumbach, “Peter John De Smet,”
25–26.

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FUNDING THE MISSION

Netherlands, to collect “funds for the Belgian Jesuits of western America,”
this association had been folded into the Society for the Propagation of the
Faith with the proviso that funds “collected would continue to be applied to
the Jesuit Mission of Missouri.”39 According to Society for the Propagation
of the Faith officials, Roothaan “personally distributed all monies allocated
by Lyon to the Society of Jesus.”40 Yet this still raised broader questions as
to the extent to which funds received by Lyon intended by the donors for
the Jesuits were so allocated. For example, in practice the funds collected in
the Netherlands were provided initially to “the Missouri procurator in Belgium” who used the funds to cover travel costs of novices and “delivered
[any remaining] to the procurator of the vice-province in St. Louis.”41 The
scale of the funding delivered in this manner was limited, averaging up to
“about four thousand florins or sixteen hundred dollars annually.”42 By the
early 1840s, the funding appeared to have dried up entirely.43
In this context, representatives from the Missouri Vice-Province
arrived in Belgium seeking financial assistance. In November 1841, Father
James Van de Velde traveled to Rome as procurator representing the ViceProvince at the Jesuit triennial congregation.44 In this capacity and as
rector of St. Louis University Van de Velde had written earlier to
Roothaan describing financial needs made all the more difficult by annual
debt service costs of approximately $3,200 including interest on the 1837
Ghyseghem loans.45 Prior to the congregation meeting, Van de Velde traveled to the Society for the Propagation of the Faith in Lyon seeking
approval to fundraise in Belgium. He also requested and received permission from Roothaan to solicit funds in Belgium though “subject to the Belgian provincial’s approval.”46 Franckeville initially approved Van de Velde’s
request “but he subsequently withdrew his consent.”47 As a result, Van de
39. Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 499–500. Recruits from North Brabant were also serving
in the Missouri Vice-Province, comprising part of the sixteen Dutch and forty-two Belgian
Jesuits there by the mid-1840s. Lindeijer, Luyten, and Suenens, “The Quick Downfall,” 29.
40. Ibid., 500.
41. Ibid. The Missouri Vice-Province had petitioned Roothaan in 1841 for “a procurator or financial agent of the Missouri Vice-Province to hold office for three years to be stationed in Belgium.” Ibid., 498.
42. Ibid., 500.
43. Ibid.
44. For details on the triennial meetings of representatives of Jesuit provinces and viceprovinces, see Ibid., 497
45. Ibid., 498–99.
46. Ibid.
47. Garraghan writes that Franckeville must have had “excellent reasons” for this shift
but offers no indication as to what these might have been. Ibid., 500–1.

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373

FIGURE 4. Lithograph image of James Oliver Van de Velde, bishop of Chicago
(1849–53), then of Natchez (1853–55). Unknown author. Created: circa 1853 date
QS:P,+1853-00-00T00:00:00Z/9,P1480,Q5727902–1855. Preserved in St. Mary
Basilica Archives, Natchez, Mississippi. Public Domain.

Velde spent December 1841 through July 1842 engaged in fundraising
efforts with uneven success.48 Franckeville eventually did provide some
assistance but with restrictions. The most prominent example occurred in
1842 when Franckeville brokered a loan from De Boey to the Missouri
Vice-Province for 100,000 francs ($20,000), at five percent annual interest,
to help with the construction costs of a Jesuit church for St. Louis.49 The
details were “negotiated personally by Franckeville, Van de Velde not
meeting De Boey until all the details had been satisfactory arranged.”50
Although addressing a fundraising need, the De Boey loan was one more
debt obligation the Vice-Province could not afford.
48. Ibid., 499–501.
49. St. Francis Xavier, also known as “’College Church,’” was the “first Jesuit church in
St. Louis.” Initially the property of the Vice-Province, it was transferred, along with its debts,
to the University of St. Louis in 1850. Ibid., 501 (quote), 503.
50. Ibid., 500. Although constrained in seeking financial contributions, Van De Velde
was able to obtain “donations of a considerable quantity of church goods” (469, 501).

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FUNDING THE MISSION

Van de Velde’s experience in Belgium stands in marked contrast to De
Smet’s the following year. His health improved, De Smet had successfully
petitioned to rejoin the Society of Jesus in 1837 and from 1840 to 1842
took on a leading role in the growth of the Missouri Vice-Province’s
Indian missions.51 The popularity in Europe of his reports and publications
on these experiences combined with his extensive ties with De Nef’s network created a more receptive environment.52 In the spring of 1843, De
Smet acting “on behalf of the vice-province” returned to Belgium seeking
a further loan of $10,000.53 Aided by a letter from the Missouri ViceProvincial to Roothaan requesting that De Smet be granted access to
potential donors in England and Belgium, and with permission from
Franckeville, De Smet was successful. By the time he departed Antwerp
for home in January 1844, he had collected money and material worth
between 125,000 and 140,000 francs including a loan of 70,000 francs
($14,000) in Belgium.54
In September 1843, Van de Velde became Vice-Provincial of the Missouri Vice-Province and was charged by Roothaan to provide a full accounting of its debt and interest obligations.55 With this information, he appealed
again to Roothaan for assistance. Among the issues he discovered was that
while contributions to the Jesuit missions from the Society for the Propagation of the Faith had resumed, Roothaan had allocated 32,000 francs
($6,400) to the Missouri Vice-Province with none of these funds earmarked
for operations in St. Louis.56 Instead, Roothaan had used 12,000 francs
($2,400) to cover partially the outstanding debt service on the Ghyseghem
loans and distributed the remaining funds based on his sense of the other
needs of the Vice-Province.57 In 1846, challenges increased when the Society for the Propagation of the Faith changed its policies and restricted the
funds allocated to Vice-Province for use only in the western Indian missions. This shift prompted a further protest by Van de Velde to Roothaan,
including renewed calls for Belgian church networks to establish a separate
51. Carriker, Father Peter John De Smet, 31, 64.
52. Ibid., 66–67; Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch21), 104.
53. Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 501.
54. Ibid., 501–3; Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch24), 292; Carriker, Father Peter John De
Smet, 67; Bishop, Black Robe and Tomahawk, 102; Killoren, “Come, Black Robe,” 79–81. None
of the authors mentions specific donors by name.
55. Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 501.
56. Ibid., 507–8. In 1844 and 1845, the Society also allocated 40,000 francs ($8,000) to
the western Indian missions. Roothaan placed these funds in an account in London. Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch25), 351–52, 436.
57. On the allocations, see Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 508.

H. RICHARD FRIMAN

375

FIGURE 5. Father John Anthony Elet, S.J., courtesy of the Jesuit Archives &
Research Center, St. Louis, Missouri.

funding society along the lines of the Leopoldinen-Stiftung.58 Opposed to
such a step, Roothaan intervened in 1847 and the funding restrictions were
dropped.59 Roothaan continued to determine the distribution of funds from
Lyon and again used a portion to cover the Missouri Vice-Province’s debt
service including on the De Boey loan.60
In 1847, now handling financial responsibilities at St. Louis University, De Smet returned to Europe as part of a new fundraising effort with
Father John Elet.61 Elet had joined the Missouri Mission in 1823, served
as president of St. Xavier College in Cincinnati since 1840, and was sent
to Europe in 1847 as representative of the Missouri Vice-Province to the
58. He also pointed out that contributions to Lyon in 1845 from churches in Belgium
(177,688 francs) and North Brabant (36,873 francs) were much more than that provided to
the Missouri Vice-Province. Ibid., 510.
59. Ibid.
60. Ibid., 500, 507; Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch37), 351. Van de Velde also appealed to
De Smet to approach De Boey “to remit the debt, at least in his will” to ease the burden but
without success. Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 501, 503–4.
61. Carriker, Father Peter John De Smet, 111, 113; Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 511–12.

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FUNDING THE MISSION

conference of procurators in Rome.62 As discussed in detail below, during
this trip Elet came face to face with the political upheavals of 1848 and
resulting displacement of the Swiss Jesuits.63 Elet and De Smet continued
fundraising efforts until April 1848.64 Once again De Smet was successful
albeit less so than his earlier trips, “collecting about 30,000 francs [$6,000]
in donations.”65 Upon his return to the United States, Elet began duties as
the new Vice-Provincial of the Missouri Vice-Province replacing Van de
Velde who had been appointed Bishop of Chicago.66
The financial challenges Elet returned to were considerable. Van de
Velde had managed to address some during his tenure but more remained.
The debt obligations of the church in St. Louis as carried by the Missouri
Vice-Province to Belgian donors totaled almost $40,000 by 1849 including
the earlier $20,000 loan from De Boey.67 By contrast, the situation of St.
Louis University was less tenuous. Financially separate from the ViceProvince, the university under pressure from Roothaan had taken out a
loan locally in May 1849 and used the proceeds to pay off the 1837 Ghyseghem loans.68 By early 1849 Elet had appointed De Smet as procurator
and Assistant Vice-Provincial of the Missouri Vice-Province to help
address financial issues.69 Since part of the answer would lie in in easing the
debt burden, Elet appealed to Roothaan to allow the Missouri ViceProvince to transfer the church and its debt obligations to the university
but without success.70 In short, by the late 1840s the Vice-Province was
desperately in need of financial assistance and having little success in
obtaining relief.

62. Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 513–14.
63. Ibid., 525. On the political dynamics of 1848 and ramifications for the Jesuits, see
Viaene, Belgium and the Holy See, 400–52; Marc Lerner, A Laboratory of Liberty: The Transformation of Political Culture in Republican Switzerland, 1750–1848 (Leiden, 2012), 270–85,
290–93; Schatz, Geschichte der deutschen Jesuiten, 58–61, 100–14.
64 Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 511–12; 526–29; Laveille, The Life of Father De Smet, 206.
65. Brumbach, “Peter John De Smet,” 84; Garraghan, The Jesuits2 (Ch30), 92; Killoren,“Come, Black Robe,” 96–98.
66. Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 513–18.
67. Ibid., 542.
68. Ibid., 541; Carriker, Father Peter John De Smet, 121. Roothaan had instructed Van
de Velde to pay off the loan “as soon as possible.” The reasons for haste were not clear. Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch34), 243.
69. Carriker, Father Peter John De Smet, 121–22; Brumbach, “Peter John De Smet,”
85–86.
70. The transfer was eventually approved and completed in 1850. Garraghan, The
Jesuits1, 543.

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377

FIGURE 6. Bishop John Martin Henni. Photograph/Image courtesy of the
Archdiocese of Milwaukee Archives.

Accessing the Network
Compared to the Vice-Province representatives, Henni, neither Jesuit
nor Belgian, was an atypical prospect for fundraising success in Antwerp in
1848. Born in Switzerland, Henni studied in Lucerne in 1824 and then
Rome in 1826 for his clerical training. Henni selected the Sapienza University in Rome over Jesuit-run alternatives reflecting in part, as Johnson
writes, “the current [Swiss] bias” against “’Jesuitism.’”71 While in Rome,
Henni met Father Frederick Rese, famous for his missionary work in
Africa and the United States, who was seeking, among other efforts, financial support and recruits for the Cincinnati Catholic diocese. Inspired by
Rese, Henni left Rome to join the diocese in 1828. Long interested in the
priesthood, he was ordained in 1829 and soon began efforts on behalf of
the Cincinnati diocese’s German-speaking Catholics.72 Although these
efforts would include fundraising in Europe during the 1830s, Henni did
not seek support in Belgium. A brief review of this experience helps to set
the context for what followed in 1848.

71. Johnson, Crosier on the Frontier, 9–15. On the Jesuit alternatives, see also Schatz,
Geschichte der deutschen Jesuiten, 96–98; and Viaene, Belgium and the Holy See, 229.
72. Johnson, Crosier on the Frontier, 20–29.

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FUNDING THE MISSION
Fundraising Prior to 1848

In the summer of 1835, the Cincinnati diocese sent Henni on a
fundraising trip to Europe. Although he appealed to the Society for the
Propagation of the Faith in Lyon and Pope Gregory XVI in Rome, both
demurred citing a lack of funds. With a letter of support from the Pope,
Henni was more successful in visits to the Leopoldinen-Stiftung in Vienna
and with bishops in Bavaria.73 After returning to the United States in the
fall of 1836, Henni resumed his work. Continued success resulted in his
“appointment as vicar-general of the Cincinnati diocese” in 1838.74 During
his time in Europe, Henni did not seek assistance from the Belgian funding networks or other European Jesuit support. The Jesuit presence in the
Cincinnati diocese would increase in 1839 when Cincinnati Bishop John
Purcell sought assistance from Roothaan concerning the Seminary of St.
Francis Xavier (The Athenaeum). This request resulted in deliberations
between the diocese and the Missouri Vice-Province, leading to a transfer
of control in 1840 and Elet becoming the new rector of St. Xavier
College.75 Although this would place Elet and Henni together in Cincinnati for the next few years, Thomas Jablonsky writes that “this experience
soured Elet on the man.”76
In 1843, bishops meeting at the Fifth Provincial Council in Baltimore
nominated Henni to lead the newly established Catholic diocese in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. With the appointment approved by Rome, Bishop
Henni arrived in the city in May 1844.77 Henni again faced the challenge
of meeting the needs of a growing population of German-speaking
Catholics and a diocese in financial distress.78 As in the past, he appealed
to the Society for the Propagation of the Faith, the Leopoldinen-Stiftung,
and supporters in Bavaria writing them all for assistance.79 While in
Cincinnati Henni had advocated for the idea of a German-language seminary to train priests as a longer-term solution to meeting the needs of the
73. Ibid., 41–44. While in Bavaria, Henni had increased his success by publishing a
book based “on his insights on America and dedicates it to the Archbishop of Munich” (43).
74. Johnson, Crosier on the Frontier, 49–51.
75. Purcell had unsuccessfully appealed to the English Jesuits in 1838 before turning to
Roothaan. Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch33), 157–71; Garraghan, The Jesuits3, 481–82.
76. Jablonsky (Milwaukee’s Jesuit University, 17) offers no details on what happened,
only that this time helps to explain Elet’s later concerns over Henni’s support for the Jesuits.
77. Johnson, Crosier on the Frontier, 56–57
78. Ibid., 69–70.
79. He was dissuaded from making these appeals in person by a letter from the
Ludwig-Missionsverein. Ibid., 75–76.

H. RICHARD FRIMAN

379

diocese’s immigrant population.80 He continued to pursue this interest in
his new diocese. Over the next four years even as financial pressures continued, Henni remained committed to the idea.81 Henni’s letter campaigns
seeking broad support for the diocese generated some success with donations including 15,000 francs ($3,000) from the Society for the Propagation of the Faith and 8,000 florins ($3,200) from the Ludwig-Missionsverein.82 In early 1848, Henni traveled to Europe to enhance his
appeals by fundraising in person.
The Path to Belgium
There was no indication that Henni planned to visit Belgium in 1848.
According to a story in the Daily Wisconsin printed prior to his departure
for Europe, Henni’s destinations were “’Ireland, England, France, Switzerland, Germany and England.’”83 He arrived in England on March 7, 1848
and then continued on through France to Rome shortly thereafter before
arriving in Switzerland by the summer of 1848.84 Over the next fourteen
months, he traveled extensively including visits to Lyon and Munich.85 In
the fall of 1848, Henni wrote his friend Mueller at the Ludwig-Missionsverein providing updates on meetings and intended destinations.
These letters trace a path from Switzerland to Belgium: beginning in late
October with a report from St. Gall, Switzerland and followed by descriptions of meetings with bishops in Strasburg and Cologne reached by way
of Metz and Trevis (Trier), a brief stay with the Redemptorists in Lüttich
(Liege), and then on to the Jesuits in Brussels.86 On December 10, 1848,
Henni wrote Mueller from Brussels complaining that “‘Here I am with the
Jesuits. With the collecting I am anything but pleased. I am a poor Beggar,
do you think so?’”87 Henni noted further that should Mueller care to write
80. Ibid., 51–55.
81. Ibid., 88. In letters to Mueller (April 23, 1845; August 7, 1846) and to Anselm
Lothar von Gebsattel, Archbishop of Munich-Freising (April 24, 1845), Henni appealed for
financial support for a new church and seminary. See letters in Salesianum.
82. Henni to Mueller, April 23, 1845, and Henni to Gebsattel, October 14, 1845, in
Salesianum.
83. Martin Marty, Der Johann Martin Henni, Erster Bischof und Erzbischof von Milwaukee (New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago, 1868), 184, for no mention of Belgium during the
trip, see also 196.
84. Ibid., 187–89; Johnson, Crosier on the Frontier, 88–89.
85. See Henni letters in Salesianum. On the absence of visits to the LeopoldinenStiftung, see Johnson, Crosier on the Frontier, 92.
86. See Henni to Mueller, October 26, 1848 (from St. Gall); “end of October” (Strasburg); December 10 (Brussels), in Salesianum.
87. Henni to Mueller, December 10, 1848, in Salesianum.

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he could be reached care of Father P. [Paul] Hessels, the Jesuit Rector of
the “’College of Notre Dame (Rue de l’Empereur), Anvers, Belgique,
where I shall go soon.’”88
Understanding Henni’s access to the Belgian funding network
requires additional background on the Jesuit response to Swiss refugee
issue. In late 1847, the Swiss Provincial, Father Anthony Minoux, had
managed to get his charges out of Switzerland, but their exodus was haphazard and future uncertain. By the mid-1840s, the Jesuit presence in the
Swiss Confederation had become a flashpoint in the political contestation
between conservatives and liberals, divided largely along Catholic and
Protestant lines, over cantonal and federal authority.89 Radical liberal backlash and calls for Jesuit expulsion intensified in 1845 as seven Catholic cantons established their own association, the Sonderbund, in the name of
protecting “cantonal agency, community sovereignty, and control over religious practices.”90 In November 1846 as risks of expulsion increased,
Roothaan had authorized Minoux to take whatever steps he deemed necessary to protect his charges. Minoux’s planning was thrown into disarray
in November 1847 with the onset of the Sonderbund War, the defeat of
the Catholic cantons, and the association’s collapse shortly thereafter. The
Swiss Jesuits fled.91 By early 1848, Minoux, newly based in Strasburg, was
exploring avenues for European resettlement for the Swiss Jesuits. With
little success as political upheaval spread in Europe, Minoux shifted his
sights to America.92
Minoux’s preference was to keep the Swiss refugees together, ideally
in a separate scholasticate under his control that would be able to house
them all while also allowing for their return to Europe should conditions
improve.93 Minoux broached the idea of resettlement with Roothaan and
the Belgian Provincial Franckeville, but, as he later explained, since “’no
one could offer me anything better’” as far as “’permanency anywhere in
Europe’” he focused his efforts on America.94 The outreach to Franckeville
can be interpreted in at least two ways. As discussed below, it likely
88. Ibid.
89. Schatz, Geschichte der deutschen Jesuiten, 100–05; Lerner, A Laboratory of Liberty,
270–77.
90. Lerner, A Laboratory of Liberty, 290–99 (quote 291).
91. Ibid., 300–14; Schatz, Geschichte der deutschen Jesuiten, 108–12; See also, Garraghan,
The Jesuits1, 524–25.
92. Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 524–25; Schatz, Geschichte der deutschen Jesuiten, 111–12.
93. Garraghan, “Marquette University,” 421–23; Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 527–28, 531.
94. Minoux’s description of events as appearing in Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 527.

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reflected Minoux’s interest in the Missouri Vice-Province as a possible
location. A second interpretation is that the outreach was an appeal to
Franckeville for help to relocate possibly in Belgium.95 As Schatz writes,
Franckeville had “reacted dismissively to his [Minoux’s] first request” of a
possible resettlement in Belgium, leaving Minoux no choice but to look
abroad to America.96 Franckeville’s position appeared to change in late
May 1848 as the refugees were preparing to leave for America. According
to Minoux, Franckeville came to him and offered to “’keep the entire
party’” in the Belgian Province.97 Yet the offer was too little too late. An
advance Swiss contingent had left Antwerp in April, and Minoux, with
assistance from Father Hessels in procuring an agent, had already booked
passage for a larger group of over forty more refugees. Perhaps if the offer
from Franckeville had come “‘fifteen days sooner’” rather than “four days
before” departure things might have worked out differently, Minoux later
wrote, but such was not the case.98
Elet had become aware of the Swiss Jesuit displacement in late 1847
and wrote to Minoux offering to resettle some of the personnel in the Missouri Vice-Province. Yet the planning and details that followed were anything but clear. On January 22, 1848, Minoux replied to Elet with an apology for not answering earlier. Minoux explained that he had been
“’expecting certain and definite direction from Rome on the subject of
America in general and my province in particular’” but in having received
no reply had gone ahead and sent a first wave of “’fathers, coadjutor-brothers and scholastics’” on to Lyon. He further expressed his hope that Elet
would be able to work out the details of the next steps of their journey with
the Provincial of Lyon.99 Elet had already met this first wave of Swiss
Jesuits during his visit to the offices of the Society for the Propagation of

95. Both areas had been part of the Vice-Province of Switzerland, Lower and Upper
Germany established in 1821 (which became a Province in 1826) until Belgian independence
from the Kingdom of the United Netherlands and the creation of a separate Belgian Jesuit
Province in 1832. Schatz, Geschichte der deutschen Jesuiten, 51–54. On this history and the
influence of Swiss Jesuits in Belgium during the 1820s, and the return of displaced Dutch
Jesuits from Switzerland in the 1830s, see Lindeijer, Luyten, and Suenens, “The Quick
Downfall,” 26, 32–34.
96. Schatz, Geschichte der deutschen Jesuiten, 112.
97. Minoux’s recounting of events in Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 527. For a claim that the
Belgian Jesuits “were most willing to receive” forty-five displaced Swiss Jesuits in 1848, see
Lindeijer, Luyten, and Suenens, “The Quick Downfall,” 45.
98. From Minoux’s standpoint, the passage had already been paid for and it was too late
to recoup the funds. Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 527, 529.
99. Ibid., 525.

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the Faith in early-January 1848, but was not fully prepared for what followed.100 By March 1848, Elet and De Smet were back in Belgium having
completed their fundraising efforts and were preparing to leave Antwerp to
return home. Here Elet received a second letter from Minoux dated March
20, 1848, noting his plans for a second, larger wave of Swiss Jesuits.101 Elet
and De Smet left Antwerp on April 3, 1848, accompanied by a small party
from the initial group of refugees.102 Meanwhile, Minoux instructed the
larger group to assemble in Antwerp in preparation for a late May departure to America. Although no details had been confirmed as to what would
happen on their arrival, Minoux wrote to Elet from Antwerp on May 16,
1848, that this contingent would soon be on its way.103 Weather delayed
the departure until early June.
After seeing his charges off, Minoux left Belgium. In July 1848, with
the status of the Swiss refugees still in flux, Minoux and Henni met in
Munich.104 Similar to Elet, Henni had become aware of the plight of the
Swiss refugees during his travels and also saw in them the prospect of
addressing critical personnel needs of his diocese. Minoux entered the
meeting aware that the advance group of refugees in the Missouri ViceProvince had not been able to lay any groundwork for establishing an independent scholasticate. Although the larger group of Swiss refugees arrived
in New York on July 19, news of the disarray that greeted them would not
reach Minoux for several weeks.105 Exactly what Henni and Minoux discussed in their meeting is not entirely clear. In a July 29, 1848 letter to
Elet, Minoux mentioned that Henni had “‘offered me his hospital as a residence and place of shelter for my children. Is this agreeable to you?’”106
100. Ibid.
101. Ibid.
102. Ibid. This group, including Fathers Frederick Hubner and Joseph Brunner, had
left Antwerp with Elet and De Smet on April 3, 1848, and arrived in St. Louis on June 11.
103. Garraghan, “Marquette University,” 421; Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 529.
104. Garraghan offers no date or location. Johnson citing Garraghan states that the
meeting took place in Munich. Travel itineraries along with dates of correspondence and the
hospital offer noted below suggest July. Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch37), 352; Johnson, Crosier
on the Frontier, 93
105. The larger group arrived only to find that no one had been made aware in time that
they were coming. Moreover, there no instructions waiting from the Missouri Vice-Province,
aside from an invitation to come immediately, or from the advance group. Garraghan, “Marquette University,” 422–23; Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 525, 530–31.
106. Garraghan, “Marquette University,” 423; Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 532. Garraghan
does not mention any reply on the hospital offer and turns to a September 5, 1848 letter from
Minoux to Elet inquiring about the status of his original plan that the first wave Jesuits were
supposed to propose about establishing “’a scholasticate under my charge, say in Chicago or

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The hospital, St. John’s Infirmary, was a recent undertaking, with Henni
having only purchased the building in January 1848 and opened services
with limited staff in May.107 Roothaan later described the 1848 interaction
between Minoux and Henni differently. In a letter to Elet dated January
27, 1849, Roothaan recounted the news he had just received from Minoux
about the De Boey donation. He made no mention of the Henni hospital
offer and instead wrote that “’Even before Father Minoux had sent off his
subjects to America, Bishop Henni of Milwaukee had asked him for men
with whom to start a college in Milwaukee. The plan, however, could not
be put into execution because the Bishop was without sufficient funds.’”108
Although this post hoc recounting has become the basis of the conventional history, there is little supporting evidence. Minoux made no
mention of such a proposal from Henni in his correspondence with Elet
during 1848, nor did Henni in his letters to Mueller. It is likely that Henni
raised the possibility of the Swiss Jesuits fulfilling his longtime goal of a
German-language seminary during his meeting with Minoux. Similarly,
Minoux likely recounted his frustrations to Henni concerning the events in
Antwerp, the fate of the Swiss refugees in the Missouri Vice-Province, and
his desire for an independent scholasticate. Yet five months would pass
before Henni turned to Belgium seeking assistance. The delay suggests that
Minoux had offered no encouragement for such a trip and that Henni did
not anticipate Jesuit support.
The Path to De Boey
Johnson writes that “Henni was introduced to M. de Boey through the
Jesuits in Antwerp.”109 He cites the pages of Garraghan’s discussions of De
Boey’s assistance to the Belgian Jesuits, the Missouri Mission, and his long
relationship with De Smet.110 Yet, none of these references offer a direct
connection that would lead to an introduction. For example, De Boey’s last
support for the Missouri Vice-Province was the 1842 loan brokered by
Milwaukee.’” Garraghan notes further that Roothaan had written to Minoux in August supporting the position that Elet and Father Ignatius Brocard of the Maryland Province had
taken emphasizing basic placement of the refugees and reluctance for a separate scholasticate.
Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 533.
107. On the origins of the hospital, see Johnson, Crosier on the Frontier, 101-2; Marty,
Der Johann Martin Henni, 204.
108. Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch37), 356.
109. Johnson, Crosier on the Frontier, 94.
110. Ibid., 212 note 48 (citing Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 372; Garraghan, The Jesuits2
(Ch37), 353–55.

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FUNDING THE MISSION

FIGURE 7. Father Paul Hessels, S.J., courtesy of KADOC-KU Leuven, Audiovisueel archief Vlaamse provincie van de Sociëteit van Jezus.

Franckeville that Elet was still struggling to service. Elet and De Smet had
also left Antwerp in April 1848 with no evidence of their having met with
or received any support from De Boey. Finally, there is no record of any
relationship between Henni and De Smet at this time, let alone one that
would lead to an introduction to De Boey.111 Johnson also cites two letters
between Henni and Mueller, the first dated December 10, 1848, already
discussed above, and the second dated February 9, 1849. In both, the only
content of potential relevance is a brief mention that Henni could be
reached care of Father Hessels in Antwerp.112
Hessels was the critical conduit. As discussed in the next section, he
also figured prominently as an intermediary in subsequent disputes over the
donation in 1849. Few details are available on the relationship between
111. The Henni Papers in the AMA collection contain no correspondence with De
Smet for this period. The Missouri Province Archive (Record Group 9, Smetiana) at JARC
only contains a small number of entries involving Henni and De Smet beginning in 1852. For
their interaction in the early 1850s, see Garraghan, “Marquette University,” 439–40; Garraghan, The Jesuits2 (Ch37), 375–76, 379–80, 385.
112. Johnson, Crosier on the Frontier, 212 note 48 (Henni to Mueller December 10,
1848 and February 9, 1849); see also Salesianum. The ramifications of the second letter are
discussed below.

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385

Hessels and De Boey. Hessels would note years later that during the 1840s
he had often approached De Boey, as he had others, to support Jesuit
causes in Antwerp. De Boey also became his “’penitent’” and Hessels was
at his side when he died in 1850.113 In December 1848, Henni stayed with
Hessels during his fundraising trip to Antwerp and, having no prior connections, relied on his host’s knowledge of the city’s donors. As noted
above, Hessels had worked with Minoux to arrange passage for the Swiss
refugees to flee through Antwerp. He also was well aware of the failure of
the Belgian Provincial to act in time to prevent the diaspora and the shortcomings of Missouri Vice-Province in meeting their needs on arrival, and
would have certainly shared these experiences with his guest. Henni
undoubtedly expressed his sympathies over the refugees’ plight, described
the needs of his diocese along with his dream of a German-language
scholasticate, and mentioned the possible roles that the displaced Jesuits
could play if only he had the resources. De Boey with his long support of
the Missouri Vice-Province was a logical person for Henni to meet if only
for a discussion of shared interests and concerns. Hessels made the introduction and Henni left Antwerp with an unprecedented gift, rather than a
loan, for a nonexistent college in a state where neither the donor nor the
Belgian Jesuits had any prior connection.
The Network Reacts
Back in Cologne by January 12, 1849, Henni wrote to Mueller sharing
his good fortune. He noted his intent to purchase land for the college with
the initial 15,000 francs ($3,000) he had received from De Boey and to
travel to Strasburg to meet with Minoux “‘to get some members of his
province to start the college.’”114 Henni conveyed little sense of understanding the ramifications of what had just happened in Antwerp or any
inkling of how to engage with the Jesuit organizational structure linking
Europe to the Missouri Vice-Province. For Henni the donation was a gift
to establish a college with few if any strings attached. As he noted to
Mueller, “‘the only condition is that two holy Masses have to be said every
week for the future.’”115
113. See Hessel’s testimony during 1860s criminal and civil trials contesting the handling of the De Boey estate, in Gustave Lemaire, L’Affaire De Buck: Interposition de personne
au profit de l’ordre des Jésuites, Comte-Rendu Exact et Complet extrait des documents officiels
(Bruxelles, 1868), 12, 23, 160. For a summary and broader analysis of the politicization of the
trials, see Kristien Suenens, “Het Proces-De Buck (1864–1868). Een erfenisproces als inzet
van het klerikaal-liberale conflict in België,” Trajecta, 14 (2005), 1: 3–24.
114. Henni to Mueller, January 12, 1849, in Salesianum.
115. Ibid.

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FUNDING THE MISSION
Adding Intermediaries in Missouri

From the outset, Henni began to lose control over the donation
process. Mueller immediately notified Minoux of the donation and
Henni’s desire to meet. Minoux, in turn, wrote to Elet and Roothaan. On
January 18, 1849, Minoux shared with Elet the preemptive message he had
sent to Henni, dissuading the bishop from pursing a meeting. Since Wisconsin was in the territory of the Missouri Vice-Province, Minoux had
noted, any direct discussions with Henni would be “’useless’” and that all
future deliberations over the proposed college were to be through Elet.116
Henni’s reaction was muted. On January 24, 1849, he wrote to Mueller
briefly noting the response and expressing the hope that Minoux would at
least advocate for the Milwaukee project.117 With progress towards a college seemingly out of his hands for the moment, Henni continued his
European fundraising efforts before returning to the United States in April
and, following meetings, to Milwaukee in May 1849.118
Meanwhile, Minoux in his letter to Elet had also expressed his interest
in the proposed college as a possible solution for the displaced Swiss
Jesuits.119 Roothaan having heard from Minoux about the donation also
wrote to Elet on January 27, 1849, with the same message, and in stronger
terms called on Elet to place “’no obstacle in the way’” of the Swiss Jesuits
obtaining the college in Milwaukee.120 Initially, Elet was less than supportive. His reply to Minoux on March 1, 1849, sought to dissuade interest in
the project by raising concerns over the veracity of Henni’s support for the
Jesuits, noting the poor socioeconomic conditions in Wisconsin, and by
offering alternatives, including colleges and schools already under the
Vice-Province’s administration in Bardstown and Louisville, Kentucky. 121
In his reply to Roothaan on March 16, 1849, Elet was much more conciliatory. He noted his support for the Swiss Jesuits and the alternatives he
had shared with Minoux, but stressed that he would move the Wisconsin
project forward as directed.122
116. Minoux to Elet, January 18, 1849, in Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch37), 353.
117. Henni to Mueller, January 24, 1849, in Salesianum.
118. Johnson, Crosier on the Frontier, 94–95. In his February 9, 1849 letter to Mueller
(Salesianum), Henni wrote that he could be reached in Lyon, Paris, and, by end of March, care
of Hessels in, Antwerp. This suggests either a return visit possibly to work out donation details
or simply an Antwerp port departure. Garraghan makes no mention of a March 1849 visit.
119. See Minoux to Elet, January 18, 1849, in Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch37), 353.
120. Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch37), 356–57.
121. Ibid., 355–56.
122. Ibid., 353, 355–58.

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387

After meeting with Henni in Milwaukee in June 1849, Elet came
away with a more positive take on the project. In a July 15, 1849 letter to
Minoux he shared his enthusiasm and approval. However, noting that the
proposed role for the Swiss Jesuits was only based on a verbal arrangement
with Henni, he also encouraged Minoux to dispatch representatives to
Wisconsin to work out the details of the college ‘’in writing.’”123 On
August 18, 1849, with Minoux’s support, Elet sent a delegation of Swiss
Jesuits, Fathers Joseph Brunner, Frederick Hubner, and Anthony
Anderledy, to Milwaukee with guidelines for discussing the new college.124
Yet when they arrived, rather than addressing these guidelines Henni
expressed his desire that the Jesuits begin groundwork for the college
immediately. With details still to be addressed concerning the operation
and ownership of the college, and illness affecting Huber and Brunner, no
agreement was reached and progress stalled.125
Adding Intermediaries in Belgium
The absence of agreement, let alone one approved by De Boey, Minoux,
or Roothaan,126 had not prevented Henni from moving forward. On August
5, he purchased a house and eight adjoining lots that he mentioned during
Elet’s visit as an initial location for the college.127 Henni had completed part
of the transaction in July with a down payment of $2775.70 drawn against
De Boey’s 15,000 franc note.128 In a letter dated July 27, 1849, Henni’s
financial agent in New York acknowledged receipt on July 19 of the draft as
well as the bill of exchange for 15,000 francs on the De Boey account in
Antwerp, and expressed the intent to honor a likely second draft once it
arrived. The letter also noted that they had sent an inquiry to Antwerp as to
123. Ibid., 358-60. The date of the site visit is noted as July in Garraghan “Marquette
University,” 428; and June in Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch37), 358–59; and Johnson, Crosier on
the Frontier, 95.
124. Garraghan, “Marquette University,” 428–29; Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch37),
361–62.
125. Garraghan, “Marquette University,” 429–30; Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch37), 361–
64; Johnson, Crosier on the Frontier, 95.
126. Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch37), 362–63.
127. Garraghan, “Marquette University,” 435; Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch37), 368;
Johnson, Crosier on the Frontier, 95.
128. The payment was to Joshua Hathaway, the local agent for the New York and Wisconsin Land Company. On the transaction see, Letter from New York (sender’s name is
unclear in handwriting) to Henni, July 27, 1849, AMA, MC 15, Henni, John Martin, Papers,
1831–1883, Box 1, File 12, Correspondence Calendared Letters, 1844–1879, #346. On
Hathaway, see James Smith Buck, Pioneer History of Milwaukee: Milwaukee under the Charter
1847–1853, Volume III (Milwaukee, 1884), 336, 359–60, 430.

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FUNDING THE MISSION

the process for accessing the remaining 60,000 francs ($12,000) and would
notify Henni once they received a reply but did not expect an answer until
early September.129 Since the first request for payment had used up much of
the original note,130 the second draft and the inquiry to Antwerp concerning
the remainder of the donation prompted a backlash.
Hessels wrote Henni expressing De Boey’s displeasure with the
repeated requests for funding including cashing the initial annuity before
its maturity and especially before an agreement had been reached on the
final details of the college.131 Anderledy described what followed in a September 17, 1849 letter to Minoux. Uncertain as to how to respond, Henni
had acted on Hessel’s advice to draft a letter to De Boey with his recollection of the details of the donation and turned to Anderledy for assistance.132 These details were specifics that the Swiss Jesuits had been
requesting from Henni since their arrival. That Hessels had requested such
a step also suggests that the Belgian Jesuits were seeking to clarify what
Henni understood regarding the arrangement with De Boey. The details as
recounted by Henni and drafted by Anderledy included provisions for
Masses, a college church or chapel, and, most important, the college’s
administration and control. The latter specified “‘That the college shall
belong to the Fathers of the Society of Jesus, the administration of it to be
therefore in the hands of the Fathers of said Society [emphasis added].’”133
Yet as later revealed by Franckeville, this language on ownership was incorrect since “‘nothing to this effect was stipulated when the Bishop was in the
country [Belgium].’”134 According to Franckeville, De Boey’s desire was
that the college would “provide a foundation for Masses in rather large
numbers,” while the Jesuits were looking to place the Swiss refugees. An
administrative role would serve this purpose, he noted, more than the additional pressures of ownership.135 Having already risked alienating De Boey,
129. New York to Henni, July 27, 1849.
130. Depending on conversion rates discussed above, the first claim of $2,775.70 would
have been the equivalent of between 13,011 and 15,000 francs.
131. See Anderledy to Minoux, September 17, 1849, in Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch37),
362–65.
132. Ibid., 363.
133. Ibid., 363.
134. Franckeville to Brunner, October 12, 1849, in Garraghan, The Jesuits2, 369; Garraghan, “Marquette University,” 435.
135. Ibid. Franckeville’s description of what was agreed to while Henni was in Belgium
raises more questions than it answers. Either Hessels provided the information from the
December meeting, Franckeville was there, or there was a follow-up meeting in late March
(see note 118 above). Regardless, if such information existed, it had not been shared with
Roothaan, Minoux, or Elet.

H. RICHARD FRIMAN

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at least according to Hessels, Henni agreed to Anderledy’s draft with the
more restrictive language.136
With this draft in hand, Franckeville stepped in to formalize the final
contract. In addition to the provisions noted above, the contract specified
De Boey’s commitment to pay “’the sum total of 75,000 francs in annuities
of fifteen thousand francs each year to wit, 15,000 in 1849, 15,000 in 1850,
15,000 in 1851, 15,000 in 1852, 15,000 in 1853, notice to be given thirty
days in advance and no allowance to be made for the cost of exchange or
other costs.’”137 Henni had already received and exceeded the 1849 annuity
and after hearing of De Boey’s displeasure with his financial transactions
did not question this schedule. Henni signed the contract on September
16, 1849, and wrote to De Boey thanking him and apologizing again for
the financial misunderstanding.138 Yet even with these details sorted, the
college project faced more delays. As conditions improved in Europe,
Minoux began to withdraw the Swiss Jesuits back home beginning in late
1849 and into 1850, and with their departure Roothaan withdrew his support for the college.139
Epilogue
De Boey died on February 27, 1850, with the donation incomplete.
On April 19, 1850, Franckeville notified Henni of De Boey’s death and
that he had been verbally entrusted by the estate to work with Elet to complete the donation. Franckeville listed 45,000 francs ($9,000) as the outstanding amount and suggested that this might be disbursed along the
lines of the original contract at 15,000 francs per year though he would be
working out the exact details with Elet.140 The reference to 45,000 francs
is plausible given Henni’s two prior transactions that exceeded the initial
annuity as discussed above. But some of these funds would disappear in the
final transmission to Henni.
136. Anderledy’s letter to Minoux also noted that Henni had wanted but did not
include language concerning the reversion of the college to him, should the Jesuits be driven
out of the country. Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch37), 363–64.
137. Franckeville to Brunner, October 12, 1849, in Garraghan, “Marquette University,” 435; Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch37), 369.
138. Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch37), 368–70.
139. Garraghan, “Marquette University,” 436–37; Garraghan, The Jesuits1, 538–41;
Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch37), 370–71.
140. Franckeville to Henni, April 19, 1850, AMA, MC 15, Henni, John Martin,
papers, 1831–1883, Box 4, File 1, #41 (original in French); typed English translation is available in Box 4, File 8.

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FUNDING THE MISSION

According to Garraghan, Henni received the remainder of the donation in December 1850 routed through the Belgian Province and Missouri
Vice-Province. On August 7, 1850, Father John B. Druyts, President of
St. Louis University, wrote Bishop Van de Velde in Chicago with instructions to complete the transaction by transferring the “money or as much of
it as remained uncollected ($7,533) to Henni as ‘full payment’ of the De
Boey ‘legacy.’”141 On December 12, “Henni signed a receipt for the money
‘being the balance (in full) of the grant made by Monsieur Chevalier G J
De Boey of Antwerp in behalf of the Marquette College at Milwaukee in
the State of Wisconsin.’”142 This payment was less than the amount promised by Franckeville in April. Without any recourse, Henni made no mention of the shortfall. That same month he used the funds to purchase land
better suited for the college than the property he had purchased in 1849.143
With the Swiss Jesuits no longer available for the college, Henni
turned to the Missouri Vice-Province in renewed deliberations. By 1856,
negotiations between Henni and Elet’s successor as Vice-Provincial,
Father William Stack Murphy, had resulted in an expanded Jesuit presence
in Milwaukee at St. Gall’s church and the creation of a “deed of trust” for
the college property. In 1864 even though the college was not yet established, the Wisconsin legislature approved its incorporation by the Jesuits.
After further deliberations, Henni turned over the deed to the Jesuits in
1868. Additional delays would hinder progress until Marquette College
finally opened in 1881.144
Conclusion
Although typically framed as a fundraising success, the De Boey donation to Bishop Henni was also a disruptive shock to the Belgian Jesuit
funding network for overseas missions. Fractures over the handling of the
Swiss refugee issue enabled outsider access to a Belgian private donor net141. Garraghan, “Marquette University,” 437; Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch37), 373.
142. Ibid.
143. Garraghan notes the land cost $11,000, or roughly $3,500 more than what Henni
received in December. The financial picture is confused further by Henni’s claims during
deliberations with the Vice-Province in 1856 that he still retained $5,000 of the De Boey
donation. Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch37), 385–86; see also Garraghan, “Marquette University,” 445; Jablonsky, Milwaukee’s Jesuit University, 22.
144. Although Roothaan continued to resist the project until his death in 1853, his successor, Father Peter Beckx, reflecting on changing conditions in the Vice-Province and
Henni’s offers of property for a church as well as the college, was more supportive. Garraghan,
“Marquette University,” 438–46; Garraghan, The Jesuits2(Ch37), 372–88.

H. RICHARD FRIMAN

391

work that had taken decades to build. Jesuit leadership reacted to the disruption with surprise followed by efforts to reassert control. Financial missteps by Henni in 1849 soured his relationship with De Boey and created
opportunities for Jesuits in Missouri and Belgium to install intermediaries
in the donation process. These intermediaries formalized more restrictive
terms for the donation in line with network priorities and shaped the path
and extent of its final disbursement.
Revisiting the donation offers a window into understudied aspects of
the role of private donor networks in supporting the overseas missions of
the Society of Jesus. Scholarship on Jesuit finances has emphasized the
importance of private donors for the missions and the challenges in building and maintaining support networks. Finding potential donors and navigating their stipulations were challenges that often paled in the face of
greater threats posed by anti-Jesuit backlash, the complexity of nationalistic agendas interwoven in private and public patronage, pressures from
Rome, and competition from rival fundraising networks.145 This article
calls attention to ways in which divisions within networks over funding
priorities and practices created additional challenges.
Although committed to supporting overseas missions, the Jesuit Superior General, Belgian Provincial, other Belgian Jesuits, Missouri ViceProvincial and other Missouri Jesuits had different expectations at times as
to mission priorities and what such support ideally entailed. Financial
shortfalls in the Vice-Province exacerbated these differences and requests
for additional financial assistance were met with increased resistance and
restrictions on accessing private Belgian donors. The external shock of the
1848 revolutions in Europe and the dislocation of the Swiss Jesuits
increased these tensions further. Along with suggesting potential opportunities, the dislocation added to financial needs of the Missouri ViceProvince and brought the Swiss Provincial and his representatives in as
new Jesuit actors seeking support from the Belgian funding network affecting its deliberations with unexpected results.
These findings suggest the need for further research revisiting the
financing of Jesuit overseas missions through private donor networks, and
exploring the challenges posed by tensions within the formal and informal
hierarchies linking Jesuit leadership in Europe to operations abroad. The
transformations of overseas missions in America into Vice-Provinces and
145. On the renewed interest in early modern mission financing and issues of private
donors, see the literature overview in Vermote, “Finances of the Missions.”

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FUNDING THE MISSION

Provinces as operations expanded during the nineteenth century also
increased funding needs, appeals for European and local support, and tensions over mission priorities. The article’s focus on the external and internal
challenges faced by the Belgian funding network offers a starting point for
inquiry into the extent to which similar patterns affected English, French,
and other private donor networks behind Jesuit missions in America.
Appeals to the Jesuit networks for educational assistance figure prominently in this article and also merit further exploration as points of network
tension due to the centrality of education to mission, extensive financial
needs, and outsider appeals for Jesuit support. Further study has the potential to reveal network successes and failures and expand the reach of Jesuit
historiography on the funding of overseas missions.

An Investigation into the
Histoire de la mission de Pékin, 1924–1932
HSIN-FANG WU*
In 1924, the Propaganda Fide launched an investigation into a book
entitled Histoire de la mission de Pékin published under the name of
A. Thomas. “Thomas” was rumored to be a pseudonym of Jean-MarieVincent Planchet, a French Lazarist living in Beijing with a reputation for taking anti-Jesuit stances. The investigation lasted for nearly
a decade, finally ending in 1932 when the Propaganda Fide concluded
that Planchet was the book author because of his supposed confession
and ordered him to leave China. This paper studies the process of this
investigation, which evolved from a debate over the book’s authorship
into an examination of a whole host of issues, including indigenization
and the French Religious Protectorate, that impacted China’s Catholic
communities from the 1920s to the early 1930s.
Keywords: Jean-Marie-Vincent Planchet, Anti-Jesuit, Celso
Costantini, French Religious Protectorate, Indigenization

I

n November 1923, in Rome, an unexpected package was delivered to the
desk of Willem Marinus van Rossum, prefect of the Propaganda Fide.
Its contents were a book titled Histoire de la mission de Pékin, depuis les origins jusqu’à l’arrivée des Lazaristes (hereafter abbreviated ‘Histoire’) with the
author listed as A. Thomas. The book was accompanied by a letter from
Scheut Superior General Joseph Rutten.1 In the letter, Rutten, who had
spent two decades in China and was familiar with missionary politics there,
claimed that the Histoire was regrettable and an unprovoked attack on the
*Dr. Wu is assistant professor in the Graduate Institute of Religious Studies at the
National Chengchi University in Taiwan (email: hfwu@nccu.edu.tw). The author would like
to thank Ronnie Po-chia Hsia, Albert Wu, Xueying Wang, Yifu Liu, Li-Chuan Tai, and
Ryan Holroyd, who tirelessly suffered through many drafts of the paper and pushed the analysis further. Many thanks go to the audience at the 2019 summer workshop held by the USF
Ricci Institute, the anonymous reviewers, and the editor-in-chief of the Catholic Historic
Review, who made valuable suggestions that broadened and sharpened the paper.
1. Letter from Rutten to van Rossum, November 5, 1923, Vatican City, Archivio
Storico di Propaganda Fide (hereafter referred to as APF), Nova Serie (hereafter referred to
as N.S.), vol. 807, pp. 482–83.

393

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Society of Jesus. He found that in the book, the Jesuits in the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries were described as the rebels against the papal
decrees related to the Chinese rites.2 They had intercepted the pontifical
bulls and oppressed their opponents and other missionaries in China.
Moreover, they had covered up these crimes by distorting the history of the
China mission. In the next letters, Rutten claimed that the author was not
Thomas, but Jean-Marie-Vincent Planchet, a French Lazarist priest living
in Beijing with a reputation for taking anti-Jesuit stances. Rutten worried
that once Planchet’s authorship was publicly known, it would provoke a
storm of protest from the Jesuits and have a lethal effect on the First Plenary Council, a nationwide meeting of Catholic leadership to be held in
Shanghai from May 15 to June 12, 1924.3 The Propaganda Fide quickly
began an investigation and concluded the case before the opening of the
council.4 The Histoire was removed from circulation in China due to its
anti-Jesuit narratives and its violation of canon law requiring an imprimatur for any ecclesiastical historical writing. Planchet was not, however,
held accountable for its authorship. He was merely identified by the investigation as a collaborator who had shared his notes with Thomas. The case
seemed to be settled, but in 1927, the investigation was resumed due to the
unexpected publication of a second volume of the Histoire two years earlier.
This time, the investigation concluded that Planchet was the author, based
on his private confession, and ordered him to leave China in 1932.
Since the investigation, historians and librarians have generally agreed
that Planchet was the Histoire’s author, and that “Thomas” was a pseudonym
he adopted to escape the Catholic Church’s publishing regulations. However,
this article discusses other possibilities of authorship based on the reports submitted to the Propaganda Fide by missionaries of different religious orders
and by Celso Costantini, the first apostolic delegate to China. These reports,
which are preserved in the Propaganda Fide Historical Archives and Vatican
Apostolic Archives, not only present a multi-faceted picture of the authorship
debate, but also provide a window into the world in which the Histoire was
produced, circulated, and read in the 1920s and 1930s.5
2. For a general survey and scholarship of the Chinese Rites Controversy, see Nicolas
Standaert, ed., Handbook of Christianity in China, Volume 1: 635–1800 (Leiden, 2001), 680–88.
3. Van Rossum’s Reply to Rutten, N. 3785–23, December 10, 1923; Rutten’s Reply to
van Rossum, December 17, 1923; and Rutten’s Reply to van Rossum, December 20, 1923;
APF, N.S., vol. 807, pp. 484, 505–06, and 507–08, respectively.
4. Letter from van Rossum, N. 1341–24, April 14, 1924, APF, N.S., vol. 807, pp.
602–05.
5. The related documents are in the Archivio Apostolico Vaticano (hereafter referred to
as AAV), Archivio della nunziatura apostolica in Cina, 1922–1933 (hereafter referred to as

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395

During these decades, the China mission faced both external and
internal crises.6 Widespread anti-Christian movements fueled by rising
Chinese nationalism and the political turmoil that continued even after the
unification of China in 1928 created uncertainties for the mission. Friction
between missionaries of different orders over preaching strategies and
jurisdictions reached an unprecedented height. The Vatican’s struggles
with the French Religious Protectorate, through which the French authorities and missionaries claimed their guarding role for all Catholics in
China, cast a shadow over the papal commitment to the training of native
clergy and the creation of an indigenous church in China. In this context,
the investigation of the Histoire went beyond its original goal of identifying
the author. It revealed a more sophisticated political and religious situation
in China with which the Catholic Church was coping. By examining the
publication of the Histoire and the investigation’s reports, this article showcases a microcosm of the power struggles among the missionaries of different orders, as well as the representatives of France and the Vatican, over
the historical interpretation of the mission and its ecclesiastical hierarchy.
The Book
The two-volume Histoire was printed in 1923 and 1925 with the
author given as “A. Thomas.”7 The first volume, priced at 15 francs, was
published by Louis-Michaud, a Parisian publisher whose main publishing
interest was poetry anthologies. In the second volume, however, the pub-

Arch.Nunz.cina). Most of the documents used in this paper can be both found in the APF
and AAV, which have identical copies with some exceptions. In the footnotes, the two numbers will be supplied with annotations if needed.
6. For a quick reference to recent scholarship on the key issues that the Catholic
Church faced in the 1920s and early 1930s, such as indigenization, the French Religious Protectorate, and the relations with the Nationalist government and the Chinese Communist
Party, see Rolf Gerhard Tiedemann, ed., Handbook of Christianity in China, Volume Two:
1800 to the Present (Leiden, 2010), 669–781. For the thematic studies on the French Religious
Protectorate and indigenization debates that this article particularly deals with, see Ernest
Young, Ecclesiastical Colony: China’s Catholic Church and the French Religious Protectorate
(Oxford, 2013); Albert Monshan Wu, “The Quest for an ‘Indigenous Church’: German Missionaries, Chinese Christians, and the Indigenization Debates of the 1920s,” The American
Historical Review, 122, no. 1 (2017), 85–114.
7. Two book reviews on the Histoire published in 1923 praised its informative content.
“Notes bibliographiques,” La Croix, 6 (November 15, 1923); “Review by A. Houtin,” Revue
de l’histoire des religions, 89 (1924), 270–71. The historian Kenneth Latourette cited the Histoire, particularly the part about the Chinese Rites Controversy, in his momentous book, A
History of Christian Missions in China (New York, 1929), chapters 7–8. It is worth noting that
these three references did not identify Planchet as the book author.

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HISTOIRE DE LA MISSION DE PÉKIN

Title page of the Histoire de la mission de Pékin, 1923 version. Image courtesy of the
author.

lisher’s name was not found. One line at the bottom of the second volume’s
title page draws readers’ attention. It reads, “Privately printed. This work is
not for sale.” 8
The first volume consists of six sections: an introduction to China and
Chinese religions; the Franciscan mission in Beijing in the thirteenth and
fourteenth centuries; the Jesuit mission and the establishment of the episcopacy in Beijing (1601–90); the questions of the Chinese rites (1690–
1722); the persecutions of Christians from the death of the Kangxi
emperor to the suppression of the Jesuit mission (1723–73); and the period
from the Jesuit suppression to the arrival of the Lazarists (1773–85). The
second volume titled Histoire de la mission de Pékin: depuis l’arrivée des
Lazarists jusqu’à la révolte des boxeurs continues the story to the end of the
8. The address of Louis-Michaud was 168, Boulevard Saint-Germain, Paris. The two
volumes were printed at the same printing shop, Imprimerie de la Presse Française, at 10,
Faubourg Montmartre, Paris.

HSIN-FANG WU

397

nineteenth century. It is divided into four time periods: the period from the
arrival of the Lazarists in Beijing to the closure of the former Jesuit
churches (1785–1838); the period from the arrival of Lazarist Joseph-Martial Mouly, who was appointed as the apostolic administrator of Beijing in
1846 and the first vicar apostolic of Northern Zhili in 1856, to the persecutions in the 1850s (1835–56); the period from the division of the Beijing
diocese into three vicariates apostolic to Mouly’s death (1856–69); and the
period from the nomination of Lazarist Louis-Gabriel Delaplace as the
vicar apostolic to the Boxer Uprising (1870–1900).
In the preface to the first volume, Thomas stated his reasons for writing a book on the Beijing mission. Most of the earlier works on the topic
were either unavailable or out of date at his time. Those works that had survived overemphasized Jesuits’ evangelization in the seventeenth century
and downplayed the roles of other Catholic missions to China including,
for instance, the Franciscan mission in the thirteenth century, which had
gained thousands of converts and even built a flourishing archbishopric in
Beijing. Thomas believed that “history is a severe teacher; it must not
degenerate into an apology. And only the divine truth is immaculate; every
human being, every human work, even the holiest one has its stains. Therefore, it is still a service to the Church to expound impartially the virtues and
faults of its best workers: the only legitimate and valid explanation of long
periods with lack of success and with cruel setback.”9 He thus argued that
knowledge of the unsuccessful experiences and rivalries among missionaries in China that had been rarely mentioned in the previous writings, in
particular those during the Chinese Rites Controversy, could benefit readers and the Church. By collecting a number of unedited and unpublished
church documents, as well as the latest research by other scholars, he
claimed to present a more balanced and complete picture of the mission.
However, these church sources made the Church suspicious about his
identity. Since 1742, the Church had forbidden further discussion of the
Chinese Rites Controversy, and the related documents had not been circulated outside the Church. How could he have had access to these internal
documents? His identity was under suspicion, resulting in an investigation
that lasted nearly a decade.

9. A. Thomas, Histoire de la mission de Pékin: depuis les origines jusqu’à l’arrivée des
Lazariste (Paris: 1923), I, 6. The book was translated into English by Hippolyte Henk de
Cuijpers and revised by John E. Rybolt, C.M., 3 vols. (2019). It is available at:
http://works.bepress.com/john_rybolt/111/

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HISTOIRE DE LA MISSION DE PÉKIN

Joseph Rutten, missionary and Superior General of the Congregatio Immaculati
Cordis Mariae, 1920–1930. Image courtesy of the CICM.

Rutten’s Alarm
Rutten was a Belgian Scheut missionary, devoting himself to the Inner
Mongolian mission from 1901 to 1920. While he returned to Europe in
1920 for his new appointment as the Scheut superior general, he still kept
his eye on China and continued fundraising for the Scheut medical mission
there. When he came across the Histoire, the book’s anti-Jesuit narratives
reminded him of the inter-order conflicts that had obstructed the development of the China mission during his time as a missionary.
The inter-order conflicts can be traced back to the seventeenth century
when the China mission was entangled in theological debates over the
Chinese rites and competitions over spheres of influence among nations
and religious orders. These issues continued fermenting in Rome and partially led to the suppression of the Society of Jesus in 1773. When the papal
bull suppressing the Jesuit order was announced in China in 1775, the
French Jesuit properties and posts in Beijing were transferred to the
French Lazarists.10 The Society of Jesus was restored in 1814, but the
10. About the property conflicts following the Jesuit China mission’s suppression, see
Ronnie Po-chia Hsia, “Jesuit Survival and Restoration in China,” in: Jesuit Survival and
Restoration: A Global History, 1773–1900, eds. Robert A. Maryks and Jonathan Wright
(Leiden, 2014), 245–60.

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399

China mission was not resumed until the arrival of three French Jesuits in
Shanghai in 1842.11 In hopes of returning to Beijing, the Jesuits contacted
Mouly, who administered the Beijing mission at the time. Mouly did not
view the Jesuits’ plan positively, and urged them to stay instead in Shanghai for the benefit of the Church. The Jesuits agreed.
In 1856, a transcription error related to missionary jurisdiction
brought the inter-order conflicts to a head. That year, the Propaganda Fide
reorganized the China mission into apostolic vicariates under its direct
control. The former Beijing diocese was divided into three vicariates:
Northern, Southwestern, and Southeastern Zhili. The French Jesuits took
charge of the last vicariate, while the French Lazarists administered the
first two. When copies of the decree were sent to the Jesuits and Lazarists,
a transcription error was made relating to the assignment of Southwestern
Zhili. In Mouly’s copy of the decree, Southwestern Zhili was to be administered by the Lazarists. In the copy given to the Jesuits, it was to be
administered by the Jesuits. The Propaganda Fide quickly recognized the
error in the Jesuit copy and sent a corrected copy. Although the Jesuits
were in no way responsible for this transcription error, it had a toxic effect
on their relationship with the Lazarists. In the Lazarist accounts, the error
was viewed as evidence of the Jesuits’ unabated scheming to return to Beijing. This suspicion on the part of the Lazarists paved the way for lingering
distrust toward the Jesuits into the early twentieth century.12
Rutten was familiar with this. His experience with the China mission,
along with his love for the Church and maybe unspoken worries about the
ongoing Scheut China mission, prompted him to take action. In his letter
to van Rossum, prefect of the Propaganda Fide, dated November 5, 1923,
he argued that Thomas was merely a proofreader and that the real author
was a French Lazarist priest living in Beijing. Rather than digging into the
authorship issue, his letter put the emphasis on the potential danger the
book posed to the China mission. He agreed with the book’s methodology
that human mistakes should be identified. However, he pointed out that
11. For the latest and exhaustive research on the restored Jesuit missions in China, see
David Strong, S.J., A Call to Mission: A History of Jesuits in China, 1842–1954, 2 vols. (Adelaide, 2018).
12. For Thomas’s description about the division of the Beijing diocese, see Thomas,
Histoire, II, 331–46. This transcription error was first presented through original correspondences among the Lazarists, the Jesuits, and the Propaganda Fide, in Lazarist Gabriel Perboyre, Mémoires de la congrégation de la mission, 9 vols. (Paris, 1863–68), VIII, 1078–116. For
the Jesuit version of the transcription error, see Jesuit Auguste Colombel, Histoire de la mission
de Kiang-nan, 5 vols. (Zi-ka-wei, 1894–1905), III, 554–58.

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HISTOIRE DE LA MISSION DE PÉKIN

Archbishop Celso Costantini. Société des Auxiliaires des Missions (SAM) China
Photograph Collection, Whitworth University Library, Spokane. https://digital
commons.whitworth.edu/album05/3/

the issues broached in the book, in particular the Chinese Rites Controversy, were historical questions that had been resolved by the papal decrees.
Nowadays, all missionaries in China, including the Jesuits, strictly
observed papal instructions without dissent. In Rutten’s view, the book’s
author simply exploited these historical issues to encourage readers’ distrust
of the Jesuits instead of attempting to establish the truth.
Making the situation worse, the untimely publication of the Histoire
in 1923 posed a threat to the upcoming Plenary Council in 1924. The
council, headed by Costantini, was intended to promote the indigenization
of clergy and foster the cooperation among religious orders that had been
outlined in Pope Benedict XV’s 1919 encyclical, Maximum illud.13 During
13. For the survey of the council, see Paul Jiyou Wang, Le Premier Concile Plénier Chinois (1924): droit canonique missionnaire forgé en Chine (Paris, 2010). For Costantini’s contribution in the council, see the special issue titled “Cardinal Celso Costantini and the Chinese
Catholic Church” of Tripod, 28, no. 148 (2008); Liu Guopeng [刘国鹏], Gang Hengyi yu

HSIN-FANG WU

401

his preparation for the council, Costantini had toured vicariates and prefectures across China, collecting questions and information. Rutten heard
that Costantini frequently praised the Jesuits in public for their missionary
success, which somewhat led to a rumor that the new apostolic delegate
would favor the Jesuits in the council, particularly in one of the urgent
issues to be discussed: the establishment of a Catholic university.
The proposal for establishing a Catholic university was first raised in
1912 by two Catholic intellectuals, Ma Xiangbo, an ex-Jesuit and founder
of Aurora University in Shanghai, and Ying Lianzhi, a Manchu educator
and publisher, who had submitted a joint petition to Pope Pius X requesting a Catholic university in China.14 In their proposal, the two intellectuals
lamented that Catholic missionaries had rejected an invitation from the
Qing court to teach at the Imperial University of Peking. They had failed
to take advantage of the opportunity to teach elite Chinese students and
thus gain influence over Chinese politics and society. As the Republic of
China, which had been established in 1912, was desperate for a greater
number of competent civil servants for the new regime, the Catholic
Church, Ma and Ying argued, should take advantage of this new opportunity and begin participating more in higher education. Their petition did
not bring about any immediate change. In 1917, Ying again raised the
issue in a harsher tone.15 He admired the former Jesuits in the Ming and
Qing dynasties who had proven that their scientific apostolate had won
them the respect of the mandarins and literati and ushered in a prosperous
era for the China mission. However, the current missionaries, in particular
the French Lazarists in Beijing, were engrossed in inter-order competitions and had failed to learn from history. They were afraid that praising or
adopting the former Jesuit strategy would undermine their dominant position in China. Rutten shared Ma’s and Ying’s view and was aware that the
inter-order friction continued at the expense of the mission’s development
into the 1920s.
Zhongguo tianzhujiao de bendihua [刚恒毅与中国天主教的本地化] [Celso Costantini and
the Indigenization of the Catholic Church in China] (Beijing, 2011), 101–69. My thanks to
the anonymous reviewer for the reference.
14. Ma Xiangbo [馬相伯] and Yi Lianzhi [英斂之], “Shang jiaozong qiu wei Zhongguo xingxue shu” [上教宗求為中國興學書] [A Petition to the Pope Regarding Establishing
Schools in China], in Ma Xiangbo ji [馬相伯集] [The Work of Ma Xiangbo], ed. Zhu
Weizheng (Shanghai, 1996), 115–17.
15. Ying Lianzhi, “Quanxue zuiyan” [勸學罪言] [Exhortation to Study] and “Fu
youren bo ‘quanxue zuiyan’ shu” [覆友人駁勸學罪言書] [A Reply to a Friend’s Opposition
to “Exhortation to Study”], in Ying Lianzhi ji [英斂之集] [The Work of Ying Lianzhi], ed.
Zhou Pingping, 2 vols. (Guilin, 2013), II, 581–603.

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Rutten’s letter was enough to cause van Rossum to become concerned,
so he wrote a reply demanding that Rutten disclose the name of the purported author.16 Rutten’s second letter, dated December 17, 1923, claimed
Planchet as the author.17 Three days later, he wrote another letter providing
more evidence to support this claim.18 From his reading of the book and
analysis of the sources, he inferred that the author must be a French priest
and a missionary who had lived in China. He also must have close relationships with Christian families in Beijing and must have conducted historical
research. The author was also obviously familiar with the Chinese Romanization system used by the Lazarists. Most critically, according to Rutten,
the author held an anti-Jesuit stance. Not many people had all of these characteristics. Rutten concluded that Planchet was the strongest candidate.
Born in Jonzieux, France, in 1870, Jean-Marie-Vincent Planchet
entered a Lazarist seminary in Paris in 1889 and joined the China mission
in 1893.19 Before his return to France in 1932, he mainly stayed in Beijing,
serving as the Beijing vicariate’s procurator and editing two Lazarist-run
publications: a monthly periodical, Le bulletin Catholique de Pékin, and a
yearbook, Les missions de Chine et du Japon. Planchet was also a prolific
researcher of missionary history in China. However, his work, particularly
regarding the history of the former Jesuit mission, was filled with animosity
toward the Jesuits. He criticized the former Jesuits for their ineffective scientific apostolate and poor number of conversions, which were an embarrassment to the Jesuits, Chinese Catholics, and some of his Lazarist confreres as well.20
To prove Planchet’s authorship, Rutten identified the similarities
between passages in the Histoire and those in other works published under
Planchet’s name. Some of Planchet’s sentences were reproduced verbatim
in the Histoire without any reference to their origin, and others were
slightly rewritten. Furthermore, Rutten noticed the similar antagonism

16. Letter from van Rossum to Rutten, N. 3785–23, December 10, 1923, p. 484.
17. Rutten’s Reply to van Rossum, December 17, 1923, pp. 505–06.
18. Rutten’s Reply to van Rossum, December 20, 1923, pp. 507–08.
19. For a short biography of Planchet, see Lazarist J. Van den Brandt, Les Lazaristes en
Chine, 1697–1935: notes biographiques (Pei-p’ing, 1936), 120. For the images of Planchet and
other Lazarists in China, see the St. Vincent de Paul Image Archive, an exhaustive database of
images collected and maintained by John E. Rybolt (https://vincentianpersons.cdm.depaul.edu).
20. For example, Ma Xiangbo complained that almost every issue of Le bulletin
included an article that criticized the former Jesuits. Ma Xiangbo, “Shu Li xiansheng xingji
hou” [書利先生行蹟後] [“Postscript to “The Biography of Matteo Ricci”], in Ma Xiangbo ji,
222–25, here 224–25.

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403

Jean-Marie Planchet, procurator of the Beijing vicariate. Image courtesy of DePaul
University’s Vincentian Sources.

against the Jesuits in the Histoire and the works published under Planchet’s
name, although the tone of the former was much harsher than the latter.
For example, the tour of Cardinal Charles Thomas Maillard de Tournon,
the papal legate to China whose primary task had been to deal with the
Chinese Rites Controversy in 1705–10, appeared both in the Histoire and
in the latest issue of Les missions de Chine et du Japon published in 1923.21
Rutten found both versions portrayed the unfortunate cardinal as a victim
who had been persecuted by the Jesuits during his tour. In Les missions de
Chine et du Japon, published in China with imprimatur, Planchet had only
implicitly criticized the Jesuits, while in the Histoire, published in Paris
without imprimatur, Planchet, hiding under the name of Thomas, made
direct accusations against the Jesuits. Rutten concluded that should van
Rossum read the problematic passages in relation to each other, he would
reach the same conclusion.

21. Planchet, ed., Les Missions de Chine et du Japon, 5 (1923), 541–48. Thomas, Histoire,
I, 177–87.

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Under Investigation
Rutten’s three letters successfully prompted the Propaganda Fide to
take action. In January, 1924, van Rossum notified Lazarist Superior General François Verdier, and demanded detailed information on the Histoire.22 Verdier forwarded the letter to Stanislas-François Jarlin, vicar apostolic of Northern Zhili, and François-Xavier Desrumaux, Lazarist
provincial of North China, and asked that an investigation be opened into
the origins of the book.23 Before the Lazarists completed the internal
investigation, Jesuit Superior General Wlodimir Ledóchowski had taken
action and sent van Rossum a letter of protest on February 25.24
Ledóchowski considered the Histoire evidence of a resurgent antagonism that had been expressed in the China section of the nine-volume
Mémoires de la congrégation de la mission (hereafter abbreviated Mémoires),
compiled by Lazarist Gabriel Perboyre from 1863 to 1868. In the early
1870s, the Jesuits had filed detailed reports with the Propaganda Fide to
accuse the Mémoires of defaming the Jesuits and violating the papal prohibition on further discussions over the Chinese rites. In 1872, the Propaganda Fide passed judgment and demanded Lazarist Superior General
Jean-Baptiste Étienne issue a circular to his congregation ordering that all
copies of the Memoires be completely abolished and suppressed.25 For
Ledóchowski, the Histoire was nothing but a summary of the Memoires. He
thus attached Étienne’s circular in his letter as a reminder of the hostility
with which the earlier Jesuits had struggled and overcome.
Ledóchowski went on to present the authorship issue through two investigative reports completed by Joseph de la Servière, a Jesuit historian based in
Shanghai, and Jean-Baptiste Debeauvais, the superior of the Jesuit Southeast22. Letter from van Rossum to Verdier, N. 13–24, January 7, 1924, APF, N.S., vol.
807, pp. 510–11.
23. Verdier’s Reply to van Rossum, January 15, 1924; Letter from Verdier to Jarlin,
January 15, 1924; and Letter from Verdier to Desrumaux, January 15, 1924; APF, N.S., vol.
807, pp. 534, 535, and 536, respectively.
24. Letter from Ledóchowski to van Rossum, February 25, 1924, APF, N.S., vol. 807,
pp. 573–76.
25. The Mémoires was never put on general sale. It was privately printed and only circulated among the Lazarists. For a brief introduction to the Mémoires affair, see John E.
Rybolt, The Vincentians: A General History of the Congregation of the Mission, 6 vols. (New
York, 2014), IV, 126–29. In 1911–12, a revision of the China section in the Memoires was
published in Paris, titled La congrégation de la mission en Chine, nouvelle édition, revue, corrigée
et continuée, 3 vols.

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Wlodimir Ledóchowski, S.J., Superior-General of the Society of Jesus. Wikipedia.
Public Domain.

ern Zhili mission.26 Just as Rutten had pointed out in his letters, the two Jesuit
consultants identified the striking similarities between the text of the Histoire
and Planchet’s earlier articles. One of Planchet’s articles in the 1914 issue of
Le bulletin Catholique de Pékin had received harsh criticism from the Jesuits
and Chinese Catholics for its caustic portrayal of the former Jesuit mission.
Jarlin had had to withdraw the entire issue to bring peace back to the China
mission. That article, however, was republished verbatim in the Histoire without any reference to the original publication. Given the textual similarities, de
la Servière and Debeauvais agreed that Planchet was the author of the Histoire
hiding under the name of Thomas. However, de la Servière's attitude was
somewhat contradictory. In the second part of his report, he admitted he was
inclined to consider Planchet “a victim of a breach of trust” instead of an
author or publisher of the Histoire before there was clear evidence. However,
he did know one thing for sure. When the Histoire was sold at the Beitang
(North Church) in Beijing, as far as he knew, Planchet never raised the slightest protest against the book, while Planchet’s colleagues there did.
With these supporting reports, Ledóchowski concluded that the Histoire met all the requirements for prohibition set by canon law.27 It violated
26. Report from J. de la Servière, January, 1924; and Report from J. B. Debeauvais, January, 1924; APF, N.S., vol. 807, pp. 579–81 and 582–85 respectively.
27. “Dignus est proscriptionis S. Officii liber. . . ,” APF, N.S., vol. 807, pp. 584–85.

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HISTOIRE DE LA MISSION DE PÉKIN

the papal decrees prohibiting further discussion of the Chinese rites. Its
anti-Jesuit narratives perpetuated existing divisions among religious orders,
destroyed Chinese Catholics’ confidence in missionaries, and caused a
scandal for the Church. Therefore, he urged van Rossum to remove the
Histoire from circulation immediately. And if necessary, the book should
be banned.
One month after Ledóchowski submitted his complaints, Verdier
handed his report to van Rossum on March 28.28 However, Verdier had
reached a different conclusion, in that he believed Thomas was a real
person. He submitted three letters that were purportedly correspondence
between Planchet and Thomas as evidence that Planchet had only been
indirectly involved in the composition of the book.29 Based on the contents
of these three letters, it appeared that Planchet and Thomas entered into
correspondence beginning on July 1, 1921. Planchet had received a letter
from Thomas, expressing his interest in writing a history of the China mission with a focus on the Chinese Rites Controversy. He admired
Planchet’s previous writing on this topic and wished to have Planchet’s
advice on his project, or even to collaborate with him if that were possible.
For reasons that are unclear from the contents of the letters, Planchet took
eight months to reply. He wrote that he was very flattered and willing to
offer his articles and extensive notes that he had compiled over time. He
also admitted that, for a reason he did not disclose directly in his letter, his
Lazarist superiors had removed his previous articles from circulation and
prevented him from publishing a monograph on the subject. Given these
circumstances, he was glad to know of Thomas’s interest and was happy to
permit Thomas to use his notes freely, making revisions and adding supplementary material as needed. Planchet attached just one condition to his
offer of assistance. His name should not appear anywhere in Thomas’s
book; he had no intention of either receiving any credit from the work or
of endorsing it in any way. One year later, in May, 1923, Thomas sent a
reply. He began by apologizing for his reply’s long delay because of poor
communication between Europe and China. Having received the notes
from Planchet, he had been working on his manuscript. He had incorporated Planchet’s notes, and in some instances, had even reproduced them
entirely. The book was close to completion, he claimed. He believed that it
28. Letter from Verdier to van Rossum, March 28, 1924, APF, N.S., vol. 807, pp.
590–91.
29. Letter from Thomas to Planchet, July 1, 1921; Planchet’s Reply to Thomas, February 11, 1922; and Thomas’s Reply to Planchet, May 20, 1923; APF, N.S., vol. 807, pp. 592,
593, and 594, respectively.

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would educate European readers on important issues related to China that
also resonated with current European religious questions.
The three letters were presented by Planchet to his Lazarist superiors,
Desrumaux and Joseph-Sylvain-Marius Fabrègues, coadjutor vicar apostolic of Northern Zhili, in the hope of justifying his decision to offer his
notes to Thomas.30 In the accompanying letters to his superiors, Planchet
emphasized that his collecting historical documents associated with the
past mission was not to derogate anyone but instead reflected a legitimate
desire to remember the tradition and legacy of the mission. Furthermore,
his historical research had earned him an international reputation. He had
been accustomed to receiving requests for questions relating to the
Catholic mission in China and the Far East in general. He had contributed
to several publications, such as Encycopaedia Sinica, The Catholic Encyclopedia, and The Christian Occupation of China. For him, Thomas’s letter had
been merely another request for assistance, and most of the materials he
had shared with Thomas were already available in China and Europe, and
not forbidden from distribution by the Church. Planchet successfully convinced his two Lazarist superiors, both of whom defended his minimal role
in the composition of the Histoire. Desrumaux even guaranteed that no
Lazarist in China had been aware of the book’s publication before its
appearance in a French bookshop, La Librairie Française, in Beijing.31
Besides the correspondence and reports mentioned above, Verdier
offered another piece of strong evidence. This was a letter he received on
March 27 from A. Simon, who disclosed that he had adopted the pseudonym of A. Thomas and took full responsibility for writing and publishing
the Histoire.32 In the letter, Simon felt regret that the investigation over the
Histoire’s authorship had cast suspicion on Planchet, who, he claimed, had
30. Letter from Planchet to Desrumaux, March 4, 1924, APF, N.S., vol. 807, p. 597.
Letter from Planchet to Fabrègues, March 1, 1924, AAV, Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, pp. 584–
87. It is worth noting that in the letter to Fabrègues, Planchet gave voice to his negative opinion of the Histoire, which he did not consider to be sufficiently prepared given the delicate
nature of the topic.
31. Desrumaux’s Reply to Verdier, March 4, 1924; and Fabrègues’s Reply to Verdier,
March 4, 1924; APF, N.S., vol. 807, pp. 595–96 and 619 respectively. Desrumaux stated that
he had carefully examined the original copies before his eyes and confirmed the authenticity
of the letters. Both Desrumaux and Fabrègues did not mention whether or not the Histoire
was sold at the Peking Lazarist Mission Press at the Beitang. For the survey of this French
bookstore, see Chiang Lei, “Henri Vetch and His French Bookstore Peking,” Journal of
Library and Information Studies, 11, no. 2 (2013), 149–94.
32. Letter from Simon to Verdier, March 27, 1924, APF, N.S., vol. 807, p. 598. In this
letter, Simon left his address: 8, Avenue Percier, Paris.

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HISTOIRE DE LA MISSION DE PÉKIN

only offered notes, documents of already published works, and indications
of sources to be consulted. Simon’s letter thus gave Verdier confidence that
Planchet was not involved.
During the investigation, the Propaganda Fide also sought advice
from Costantini, the new apostolic delegate to China. Costantini’s reply to
the Propaganda Fide stated that he agreed with Rutten and the Jesuits that
the Histoire was a deplorable and inappropriate piece of work. However, he
believed that Planchet had not shared any material that the Church had
forbidden and did not believe that Planchet bore any responsibility for the
publication of the book.33 Because Fabrègues had purchased all the copies
of the Histoire in Beijing to remove the book from circulation, there was no
longer any public discussion of the matter. Therefore, in Costantini’s view,
it would be best for the Church to deal with the issue quietly.
After examining these reports, van Rossum closed the case.34 The correspondence between Planchet and Thomas/Simon together with Simon’s
letter that declared his sole authorship ultimately exonerated Planchet.
Nevertheless, the Histoire continued to be banned from circulation because
of its anti-Jesuit narratives and lack of imprimatur. The Lazarists also
promised that there would not be a second volume published, despite the
claim in the preface of the Histoire that one was forthcoming. However,
this promise turned out to be one that the Lazarists did not have the power
to keep. Just one year later, the second volume was released and stealthily
made its way to China.
Investigation Resumed
The second volume of the Histoire once again listed A. Thomas as its
author, and again, there was no imprimatur. The volume detailed the
developments and achievements of the Lazarist Beijing mission from their
arrival in 1785 to the end of the nineteenth century. Meanwhile, its criticism of the Jesuits was still apparent, particularly of the contemporary
Jesuit propaganda that exaggerated the success of the early Jesuit mission
33. Letter from Costantini to van Rossum, N. 149–24, March 27, 1924, APF, N.S.,
vol. 807, p. 612.
34. Letter from van Rossum, N. 1341–24, April 14, 1924, pp. 602–05. Costantini
mentioned an anecdote in the aftermath of the investigation. When Planchet returned to
Europe for his regular retreat in 1925, some missionaries interpreted his leave as the recall due
to the publication of the Histoire. Letters from Costantini to van Rossum, N. 450–27, February 9, 1927, APF, N.S., vol. 900a, pp. 604–09, here p. 609 (alternatively, see AAV,
Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, pp. 581–86).

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Title page of the Histoire de la mission de Pékin, 1926 version. The title page
indicated as author “A. Thomas” but this was deleted in the scanning. Image
courtesy of the author.

and distorted sources to justify their return.35 The text admitted that the
former Jesuits had earned imperial favor thanks to their scientific service at
court. However, the favor never led to mass conversions in China, and the
Jesuits were actually treated as mere technicians and entertainers. The
former Jesuits’ scientific apostolate had minimal merit and only diverted
the missionaries’ attention away from proselytization. The current Jesuits,
however, failed to recognize the truth. They bragged about this short-lived
success to justify their return and even turned it against missionaries of
other orders who did not follow the former Jesuits’ approach.
One of the Histoire’s targets was Joseph de la Servière, a prolific Jesuit
historian who had been consulted during the investigation of the first
volume of the Histoire. The book indicated that de la Servière was preoccupied with the pretense that the Jesuits’ return had been prompted by
repeated requests from China. This claim relied on petitions made to Jesuit
35. Thomas, Histoire, II, 123–45.

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HISTOIRE DE LA MISSION DE PÉKIN

Superior General Jan Roothaan and Pope Gregory XVI in the 1830s by
Chinese Catholics, and de la Servière used it to prove that there had been
a favorable situation for Christianity and the Jesuits in China in the
1830s.36 The Histoire doubted the authenticity of these petitions, in particular the one sent to Pope Gregory XVI in 1833 with the signature of a
Manchu prince, which expressed great interest in the Jesuits and promised
to secure positions at court only for them.37 In the Histoire’s view, this was
an unbelievably fantastic story. Christianity was still outlawed in China at
the time of the Manchu prince’s supposed petition, and persecutions had
been increasing significantly. Long-standing opposition from the Qing
court to the introduction of anything European had not abated either in
the capital or the provinces. Neither court officials nor those in the
provinces were allowed to associate with Europeans. The book thus concluded that the petition was a forgery and criticized de la Servière for failing to read between the lines of the sources.
The Church did not become aware of the second volume until 1927
when Eugene A. Beaucé, the superior of the Jesuit Nanjing mission,
informed Costantini of the book’s existence and claimed Planchet as the
author.38 In his reply to Beaucé, Costantini expressed his sympathy for the
Jesuits’ suffering from this anti-Jesuit polemic and promised that he would
investigate the book’s content and the circumstances of its publication.39
Costantini now had a subtler understanding of the reality of China and the
mission there. Since his arrival in China in 1922, he had struggled with
resistance from some European missionaries, including the French
Lazarists, who were suspicious of the papal indigenization directive and
were in favor of the French Religious Protectorate in China. This experience prompted him to examine the latest volume of the Histoire within the
broader context of the church policy instead of assuming it was merely a
resurgence of the old anti-Jesuit polemics.
In his letter to the Propaganda Fide, Costantini reported that the
second volume of the Histoire had been published in Paris and sold in the
Peking Lazarist Mission Press at the Beitang. He maintained his stance that

36. Joseph de la Servière, Histoire de la mission du Kiang-nan, 2 vols. (Zi-ka-wei, 1914),
I, 33–39, and “Appendix I and II.”
37. Thomas, Histoire, II, 119–21.
38. Letter from Beaucé to Costantini, August 24, 1927, AAV, Arch.Nunz.cina, box
26, p. 215.
39. Costantini’s Reply to Beaucé, N. 444–27, September 1, 1927, AAV,
Arch.Nunz.cina, box 26, p. 216.

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Planchet was not the author of the Histoire.40 However, one thing had raised
his concern. Costantini had become aware of Planchet’s over-attachment to
the French Religious Protectorate and his opposition to the Church’s indigenization. In the yearbook, Les missions de Chine et du Japon, 1927, for which
Planchet served as the editor-in-chief, Costantini found that Planchet had
failed to include two significant pontifical documents, Rerum ecclesiae and Ab
ipsis pontificatus primordiis, both of which had been issued in 1926 by Pope
Piux XI to reiterate papal commitment to the Church’s indigenization. From
Costantini’s perspective, the omission was intentional, revealing Planchet’s
adverse spirit to those documents. In another monograph by Planchet about
a newly-established Chinese prefecture, Xuanhuafu, independent from the
Lazarist-run vicariate of Beijing in 1926, Costantini discovered that “the
rather bitter soul of the loss of the mission transpires between the lines.”41
Furthermore, he found that Planchet, as the procurator of the Beijing vicariate, failed to send the annual allowance to this Chinese prefecture. After
these revelations, Costantini was no longer certain that Planchet was merely
the innocent notes-sharer he had portrayed himself as in 1924.
On January 28, 1928, the Propaganda Fide appointed Costantini as
the head of a new investigation and particularly asked him to look into the
book sale of the Peking Lazarist Mission Press.42 Van Rossum demanded
that the Lazarists cooperate with Costantini, while he notified Ledóchowski that the Jesuits should refrain from responding to any accusation
made in the second volume.43 After a months-long investigation, Costantini reported the result to van Rossum.44 He openly expressed his frustration with his communication with the three Lazarist superiors in China,
Jarlin, Fabrègues, and Desrumaux.45 None of them had a single word of
40. Letter from Costantini to van Rossum, N. 450–27, September 2, 1927, APF, N.S.,
vol. 900a, pp. 604–09 (alternatively, see AAV, Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, pp. 581–86).
41. Planchet, Les Lazaristes à Suanhoafou, 1783-1927 (Pékin, 1927). Costantini had
discussed this book with van Rossum. See Letter from Costantini to van Rossum, N. 347–
27, June 15, 1927, APF, N.S., vol. 900a, pp. 524–25, here 524.
42. Letter from van Rossum to Costantini, N. 3224–27, January 20, 1928, APF, N.S.,
vol. 900a, pp. 617–18 (alternatively, see AAV, Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, pp. 605–06).
43. “Letter from van Rossum to Verdier, N. 3224–27, January 21, 1928; and Letter
from van Rossum to Ledóchowski, N. 3224–27, January 21, 1928; APF, N.S., vol. 900a, pp.
621–22 and 619–20 respectively. See Verdier’s Reply to van Rossum, March 19, 1928; and
Ledóchowski’s Reply to van Rossum, January 22, 1928; APF, N.S., vol. 900b, pp. 135–38 and
31 respectively.
44. Letter from Costantini to van Rossum, N. 263–28, March 15, 1928, APF, N.S.,
vol. 900b, pp. 151–55 (alternatively, see AAV, Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, pp. 607–11).
45. Letters from Costantini to Fabrègues and Jarlin, N. 159–28, February 15, 1928,
AAV, Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, pp. 612–13. Jarlin’s Reply to Costantini, February 17, 1928;

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HISTOIRE DE LA MISSION DE PÉKIN

blame for the contents of the Histoire, and they denied the charge that the
book had been publicly sold at the Beitang. However, Costantini obtained
testimonies from two Lazarists, August-Pierre-Henri Maes and JacquesAndré Fascia, both of whom testified that the Histoire had been sold.46
Maes, director of the Peking Lazarist Mission Press, admitted that he had
received a pack of the first volume of the Histoire from Planchet, who had
acquired them from Thomas, and had then given some copies to Fascia.
When the first volume was banned from circulation in 1924, Maes had
immediately returned the remaining copies to Planchet. When the second
volume was released, Planchet brought him another pack. This time, Maes
kept the gift quiet and only recommended the latest volume to those whom
he thought it would be of particular interest. Through Maes’s testimony,
Costantini began pondering Planchet’s responsibility in the Histoire.47 He
concluded that Planchet had played a trick by using another writer to publish what he wanted to publish. Thomas had worked on the composition of
the two dense volumes, Costantini believed, but the driving force behind
the publication had been Planchet, who had supplied a copious and meticulous compilation of news, facts, and internal documents that Thomas
would have been otherwise unable to obtain. Because of this misconduct
and Planchet’s attitude against the papal directive, Costantini urged van
Rossum to take serious action: either to recall Planchet to Europe or to
transfer him to another vicariate. At a minimum, he recommended that
the Propaganda Fide should reproach Planchet for his wrongdoing
through his Lazarist superiors. After submitting this report, Costantini
continued to write the Propaganda Fide updates about Planchet’s misconduct, in particular his business mismanagement.48 Planchet had charged
Fabrègues’s Reply to Costantini, February 19, 1928; and Desrumaux’s Reply to Costantini,
February 19, 1928; APF, N.S., vol. 900b, pp. 156–57, 158, and 159, respectively (alternatively, see AAV, Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, pp. 614, 615, and 616).
46. Letter from Costantini to Fascia, February 21, 1928; and Fascia’s Reply to Costantini, February 24, 1928; APF, N.S., vol. 900b, pp. 163 and 162 respectively (alternatively, see
AAV, Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, p. 617 and 618). Letter from Maes, March 9, 1928, APF,
N.S., vol. 900b, p. 161.
47. Letter from Planchet to Fabrègues, March 3, 1928, APF, N.S., vol. 900b, p. 160.
This letter was one of the attachments to Costantini’s N. 263–28 letter. In it, Planchet denied
his involvement in printing the second volume of the Histoire. He emphasized that the second
volume had not been put on sale by his strong urging, and the author had consented to a considerable pecuniary sacrifice.
48. Letter from Costantini to van Rossum, N. 275–28, March 20, 1928, APF, N.S.,
vol. 900b, pp. 170–73. Letter from Costantini to van Rossum, N. 379–28, April 23, 1928;
and Letter from Costantini to van Rossum, N. 513–28, June 22, 1928; APF, N.S., vol. 902,
pp. 382–83 and 389–90 respectively. Planchet’s property business was not unusual in China.
In fact, most of the foreign missionary orders ran similar businesses. The Church was even

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interest on loans as high as twenty percent and had filed a number of lawsuits against those debtors who had failed to repay their loans on time—
lawsuits that routinely made headlines in Chinese newspapers and gave the
Church a reputation of usury.
Later that same year, the Propaganda Fide received a report that substantiated many of Costantini’s allegations regarding the Histoire and
Planchet. It was submitted by Antoine-Pierre-Jean Fourquet, a member of
the Paris Foreign Mission Society and the apostolic visitor appointed by
the Propaganda Fide in 1928 to investigate the Beijing vicariate.49 In the
report, Fourquet claimed that nine-tenths of the Lazarist interviewees he
had met in Beijing had condemned the contents of the Histoire and had
believed that Planchet was the real author, while A. Thomas was merely a
pseudonym. They admired Planchet’s austere piety and work ethic but were
also annoyed at his antipathy toward the Jesuits, which had perpetuated
divisions within the Church. Given that the same evidence collected
proved Planchet’s spirit of opposition to indigenization and his avaricious
reputation in his administrative duties, Fourquet made the same suggestions as Costantini. He recommended that Planchet be recalled back to
Europe or transferred to other vicariates in China.
Before the Propaganda Fide arrived at their verdict on Planchet’s
case, at the end of 1928, Costantini added a new charge to those already
levelled against Planchet. He claimed that Planchet possessed “a certain
anti-Chinese spirit.”50 This charge came from Costantini’s examination of
the recently released eighth issue of the yearbook, Les missions de Chine et
du Japan, 1929. In the section entitled “Faits et documents,” which consisted of papal decrees related to China and important events that had
occurred that year, Costantini found that Planchet only reported news
reflecting unrest and disorder in the nation and made no mention of the
serious reforms and anti-communist campaigns carried out by the Nationalist government.

criticized as a “temple of merchants.” Letter from a Chinese Catholic named Huo Mingzhi
[霍明志] to Costantini (n.d.); and Letter from Huo Mingzhi to Costantini, December 29,
1929; AAV, Arch.Nunz.cina, box 7, pp. 409 and 411 respectively.
49. Fourquet’s visit was from November 6 to December 28, 1928. Fourquet, Rapport
sur la visite apostolique du vicariat A. P. de Peking, December 21, 1928, AAV,
Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, pp. 182–235. For the Histoire affair, see ibid., pp. 217–18. For Fourquet’s interviews with individual Lazarists regarding Planchet, see ibid., pp. 332–35.
50. Letter from Costantini to van Rossum, N. 1112–28, December 23, 1928, APF,
N.S., vol. 1003a, pp. 17–20 (alternatively, see AAV, Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, pp. 701–04).

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HISTOIRE DE LA MISSION DE PÉKIN

To be fair to Planchet, his descriptions were not far from truth. From
1926 to 1928, when Chiang Kai-shek launched the Northern Expedition
in an attempt to unite the nation, China was in the grip of political and
military turmoil. However, what disturbed Costantini was that, in the
“Faits et documents” section, Planchet included a report from a Catholic
nun, who described the persecution that occurred in Nanjing on March 25,
1927, and called for immediate reprisals from foreign powers against
China. For Costantini, who had urged missionary orders of any nationality
not to retaliate or seek indemnity for Christian victims, Planchet seemed
to be doing the opposite. He was afraid that this report would generate distrust and aversion toward the Church among Chinese readers, and his
efforts to negotiate with the Nationalist government to improve relations
between China and the Vatican would fail. He thus ordered the problematic section removed from the issue in question. The measure was later ratified by the Propaganda Fide.51
In 1931, Costantini accused Planchet of once again letting his antiChinese spirit permeate through the latest issue of the same yearbook.52
Although it was subtler than the previous issues, the “Faits et documents” section was still full of massacres, bandits, civil unrest, political
harassment, and legislative restrictions imposed by the Nationalist government on the Church. This grim picture was not inaccurate, Costantni
reluctantly admitted. However, he argued that Planchet should exhibit a
more sincere and apostolic spirit in his writing, emphasizing evangelical
charity and progress during this turbulent period. More critically, he
found that Planchet had included several unverified rumors in the issue,
so that he had to have a review of that issue published in the Collectanea
commissionis synodalis, the official bulletin of the apostolic delegation, to
give the correct information.53 One example was related to the Catholic
University of Peking.54 Citing an article published in the Jesuit-run periodical, Les missions des Jésuites de France, Planchet reported that the university “after an inspection provoked by some students was also reduced
to the rank of secondary school. By dint of political procedures, money,

51. Van Rossum’s Reply to Costantini, N. 129–29, January 19, 1929, AAV,
Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, 712.
52. Letter from Costantini to van Rossum, N. 260–31, January 8, 1931, APF, N.S.,
vol. 1000, pp. 153–60 (alternatively, see AAV, Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, pp. 713–20).
53. Georges-Marie de Jonghe, “Quelques réflexions sur un livre,” Collectanea commissionis synodalis, 4, no. 1 (1931), 50–52.
54. Letter from Costantini to van Rossum, N. 281–31, January 17, 1931, APF, N.S.,
vol. 1000, pp. 258–59 (alternatively, see AAV, Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, pp. 721–23).

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and changes in programs, it was able to regain its rank.”55 George Barry
O’Toole, the Benedictine rector of the university, was indignant at
Planchet’s description. He lamented that the university was “mendaciously accused of having criminally bribed the Nanking government to
obtain a revocation of a decree adverse to the university.” He immediately
sent letters of protest to the superiors of the Jesuits and Lazarists in
China to refute this baseless report and demand that both Planchet’s article and his source be retracted.56
Van Rossum, having read Costantini’s most recent report and becoming somewhat tired of these scandals related to Planchet’s writings, finally
passed judgment.57 Planchet’s explanations to refute the claim that he was
the author of the Histoire did not appear to be exhaustive or satisfactory.
He failed to observe the publishing prescriptions on missionary matters
issued by the First Plenary Council of 1924. Even after receiving warnings
from Costantini, he persisted and even repeated slanderous and unverified
news that caused conflicts between missionaries of different orders.58
Because of all this, van Rossum ordered the problematic “Faits and documents” section of the ninth issue of the yearbook withdrawn from sale.
Planchet was banned from engaging in any publishing activity in the
future, but if Costantini deemed it appropriate, Planchet would be allowed
to resume his yearbook editing work.
When Paul-Léon-Cornil Montaigne, coadjutor vicar apostolic of Beijing since 1930, learned of van Rossum’s decision, he immediately communicated it to Planchet and withdrew the yearbook in question from circulation.59 However, Lazarist Superior General Verdier continued speaking

55. Planchet, ed., Les Missions de Chine et du Japon, 9 (1931), 698.
56. Letter from O’Toole to Jesuit Prosper Paris, vicar apostolic of Nanjing, January 13,
1931; and Letter from O’Toole to Lazarist Paul-Léon-Cornil Montaigne, coadjutor vicar
apostolic of Beijing, January 14, 1931; AAV, Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, pp. 724 and 725 respectively. About O’Toole and the American Benedictines’ founding of the Catholic University
of Peking, see Jerome Oetgen, Mission to America: A History of Saint Vincent Archabbey, the
First Benedictine Monastery in the United States (Washington, DC, 2000), 283–300. My
thanks to the anonymous reviewer for offering this reference.
57. Letter from van Rossum to Montaigne, N. 343–31, February 26, 1931, APF, N.S.,
vol. 1000, p. 272 (alternatively, see AAV, Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, p. 731). On March 10,
1931, the Propaganda Fide sent the same N. 343–31 letter to Costantini’s secretary, Verdier,
and O’Toole, APF, N.S., vol. 1000, pp. 273–74, 275–76, and 277–78, respectively. See
O’Toole’s Reply to van Rossum on April 8, 1931, APF, N.S., vol. 1003b, p. 268.
58. See the Decrees 694, 695, and 696, in: Primum Concilium Sinense anno 1924: . . .
acta, decreta et normae, vota, etc. (Zi-ka-wei, 1929), 221–22.
59. Montaigne’s Reply to van Rossum, March 20, 1931, APF, N.S., vol. 1003b, p. 264.

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HISTOIRE DE LA MISSION DE PÉKIN

in defense of Planchet.60 With a copy of the letter he had received from
Simon, who he claimed had visited his office in Paris and orally affirmed
the sole authorship in front of him, Verdier strove to get the charges
against Planchet for authoring the Histoire dropped. Again, his effort
ended in vain.
Planchet’s Confession
It was not until 1932 that new evidence leaked and brought this case to
an end. The evidence was from another investigation in which Costantini
had been mired in 1928. This investigation was related to the career of JeanBaptiste-Henri Garnier and his polemical writings. Garnier was a French
secular missionary who had worked closely with the Lazarists in Beijing for
more than twenty-five years. He opposed the papal indigenization directive
and denigrated the Chinese people, including indigenous clergymen, for
their cruelty and backwardness. Both of these positions were clearly elaborated in his book, Le Christ en Chine, published in 1928 in Paris.61 Costantini, as the implementer of the papal directive in China, found himself a
major target of attack in the book. After an investigation, the Propaganda
Fide finally ordered it withdrawn from circulation and demanded that Garnier return to Europe immediately. Garnier’s return in 1929 did not stop his
libelous activity, however. He completed a booklet entitled Le diable en
Chine that repeated his thesis in Le Christ en Chine. The booklet, privately
printed in Paris, managed to make its way to China and was widely read
within missionary circles there. It was even republished, along with Le
Christ en Chine, in Le Journal de Pékin, a French newspaper based in Beijing.
Costantini also found that another two essays, “Etat de l’église Catholique
en Chine envoyé au Cardinal Ceretti, April 17, 1931,” and, “Un péril mondial: le facisme Catholique exotique,” attributed to Garnier, were circulating
among the missionaries in Beijing. These essays defamed the indigenous
clergy and the apostolic delegate in a similar manner.
In his report on Garnier’s works to van Rossum, Costantini suspected
that some Lazarist accomplice in Beijing had engaged in some cooperation

60. Letter from Verdier to van Rossum, March 16, 1931, APF, N.S., vol. 1003b, p.
260.
61. This book occasioned a heated debate among the missionaries. Some scholars have
examined this case, see Liu, Gang Hengyi yu Zhongguo tianzhujiao de bendihua, 380–86; and
Young, Ecclesiastical Colony, 238–39. In Garnier’s book, another target of attack was Lazarist
Vincent Lebbe, whose pioneering advocacy for indigenization contributed to the 1919
encyclical, Maximum illud.

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417

Jean-Baptiste-Henri Garnier, French secular missionary. Image is within the
public domain.

with Garnier. Planchet was of course the culprit he soon thought of.62
Costantini was suspicious not only because of the similarity of the polemics
in their respective publications, but also because Garnier’s works included
detailed missionary information and documents available only in the Bibliotheca Beitang, which was managed by the Lazarists and not open to the
public.63 Also in the same report, Costantini presented new evidence concerning Planchet’s involvement in the Histoire. Planchet had supposedly
confessed that he was the Histoire’s author during a private conversation
with a missionary from the Beitang. Costantini seemed unsurprised at
Planchet’s confession. He did not give any details about his source, perhaps
because his mind was preoccupied with Garnier’s polemics against the
papal directive and, more importantly, against himself.
62. Costantini suspected that “Un péril mondial: le facisme Catholique exotique” was
written by Garnier, or Planchet, or their joint collaboration. See the Letter from Costantini to
van Rossum, N. 215–32, February 19, 1932, APF, N.S., vol. 1130, pp. 141–47, here 142 (alternatively, see the Letter from Costantini in AAV, Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, pp. 131–37, here 132).
63. In Fourquet’s 1928 report, he considered the possibility that Planchet might abuse
the bibliotheca’s rich collection by using it to support his accusations against the Jesuits. For
this reason, he urged the Propaganda Fide to appoint a professional curator to oversee the
bibliotheca’s management. See AAV, Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, p. 218.

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HISTOIRE DE LA MISSION DE PÉKIN

On April 22, 1932, Costantini submitted a nine-page report to van
Rossum, discussing the responsibilities of the various people related to the
Garnier and Planchet affairs, in particular the administration in the vicariate apostolic of Beijing.64 In it, Costantini argued that Jarlin and Vanhersecke as the vicar apostolic and delegate vicar should resign from their current positions because they had failed to observe fully the pontifical
directive and to stop the circulation of these problematic publications. For
Garnier, who currently stayed in the Lazarist residence in Paris, the measure regarding his polemics would be handed to Montaigne, who was in
Paris meeting with Verdier regarding these affairs. For Planchet, he should
be recalled to Europe through an order given by the Lazarist superior general, which would avoid the intervention of the French legation that had
occurred in Garnier’s case. One month later, van Rossum informed
Verdier and Costantini of his final decision.65 The charges against Planchet
were as follows. First, his authorship of the Histoire, “printed in Paris under
the name of A. Thomas with the complacent acquiescence of A. Simon,”
was confirmed by the confession he had allegedly made in a private conversation. Second, he had ignored the exhortation of the Propaganda Fide
and had persisted in opposing the indigenization directive while composing his yearbooks. Third, his unscrupulous avarice as a procurator who
charged high interest on mortgages had brought dishonor to the Church.
Fourth, according to reliable information, he was still publishing material
arguing against the content of the papal directive and he was continuing to
correspond with missionaries who had already been recalled from China
because of their lack of deference toward ecclesiastical authority. Therefore,
for the benefit of the Church and the peaceful development of the China
mission, Planchet should be recalled back to Europe. After receiving van
Rossum’s instruction, Verdier immediately arranged for Planchet’s departure for France. However, perhaps in a last-ditch attempt to save his colleague, Verdier wrote a letter to van Rossum once again and attached
Simon’s letter, claiming that Planchet had not been directly involved in the
composition or publication of the Histoire.66
On August 8, 1932, Planchet left from Beijing for Shanghai, and on
August 13, he embarked from Shanghai for France and never returned to
64. Letter from Costantini to van Rossum, N. 392–32, April 22, 1932, APF, N.S., vol.
1130, pp. 295–303 (alternatively, see AAV, Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, pp. 143–51).
65. Letter from van Rossum to Verdier, N. 1865–32 (minute), May 31, 1932, APF,
N.S., vol. 1130, pp. 334–35. Letter from van Rossum to Costantini, N. 1865–32, June 6,
1932, AAV, Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, p. 160.
66. Verdier’s Reply to van Rossum, June 9, 1932, APF, N.S., vol. 1132, pp. 92–93.

HSIN-FANG WU

419

China for the remainder of his life.67 When Planchet’s departure was
announced, an article in Le Journal de Pékin recalled his merits as a good
Frenchman, and this account apparently hit a nerve in Costantini. In a
letter to van Rossum, he frankly addressed his worries.68 He had no illusions about seeing repentance from Planchet and Garnier, both of whom
were deeply invested in their nationalistic fanaticism and viewed Church’s
indigenization as the attack on the influence of France in China. The
departure of Garnier in 1929 and Planchet in 1932 seemed to bring the
long dispute in China to an end, but he was afraid that their return would
make Europe a new arena for their polemics. Costantini’s worries were
partly true. Garnier continued with his polemics in Europe, but Planchet’s
name, including Simon’s name, rarely appeared on any missionary-related
publications in Europe after his return.69
Shortly after Planchet’s departure, the Catholic world in China underwent changes that made all issues related to the Histoire completely academic. Those people involved in the case soon faded from the center-stage
of the Church in China. Van Rossum, the primary arbiter in the course of
the book’s investigation, passed away in August 1932. Costantini returned
to Rome for sick leave in February, 1933, not knowing that he also would
never return to China. Planchet’s strong supporter, Verdier, died in July,
1933. In 1939, the papal encyclical, Plane compertum, recognized the civil
values in the acts of veneration to Confucius and of ancestral worship, and
ended the centuries-long Chinese Rites Controversy.70 From that point
onwards, the Chinese Rites Controversy was no longer a vulnerability for
the Society of Jesus. Meanwhile in China, the Japanese invasion that began
in the 1930s took up much of the Church’s attention, and consequently the
67. In the 1933 issue of Les Missions de Chine et du Japon, Planchet’s name still appeared
on the cover as the editor. This Lazarist yearbook series, later renamed as Les Missions de
Chine, continued to be published after Planchet’s departure until the 1940s. When Planchet
returned to France, he was first assigned as the superior of the Valfleury maison at Loire.
Sometime after that, he returned to Paris and stayed there until his death on June 3, 1948.
About Planchet’s transfer in Europe, see the 1932–1948 issues of the Lazarist personnel catalog, Catalogue des maisons et du personnel de la Congrégation de la Mission (Paris).
68. Costantini’s Reply to van Rossum, N. 677–32, August 20, 1932, AAV,
Arch.Nunz.cina, box 8, pp. 161–63.
69. For Garnier’s works against Lebbe and indigenization, see Introduction à la vie réelle
du père Lebbe, 2 vols. (Dijon, 1948 and 1951). After returning to Europe, Planchet only wrote
several obituary notices of his former China colleagues for the Annales de la Congrègation de la
Mission et de la Compagnie des Filles de la Charitè.
70. For a discussion of the end of the Controversy, see Jesuit George H. Minamiki,
“The Yasukuni Shrine Incident and the Chinese Rites Controversy,” The Catholic Historical
Review, 66, no. 2 (1980), 205–29.

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anti-Jesuit polemics and inter-order conflicts became less and less visible in
the missionary records.
Conclusion
The uncertainty of the true identity of the Histoire’s author and the
anti-Jesuit narratives within the book were the primary reasons for the
Propaganda Fide to initiate the investigation, and these questions initially
dominated the center-stage of the investigation. Although the conflicting
arguments and evidence existed in the different reports, the Propaganda
Fide chose to trust the Lazarists and concluded that Planchet was a collaborator on the work and not its author. However, the suspicion of Planchet’s
alleged authorship remained in the missionary circles in China and resurfaced as the unexpected appearance of the second volume of the Histoire.
In 1928, the Propaganda Fide resumed the investigation as the Nationalist
government was establishing its power over China. Costantini, the apostolic delegate to China who had striven to establish a good rapport with
the Chinese government and had advocated the Church’s indigenization,
headed the investigation. The question of authorship did not progress for
lack of new evidence. The foci of Costantini’s reports went beyond this
narrow question and turned to the accusations regarding Planchet’s usury,
opposition to indigenization, and defamation of China in works that had
been published under his own name. These misdemeanors, in Costantini’s
view, damaged the Church’s reputation and devalued his long-running
efforts to soothe the tensions between foreign and local clergy and to
improve the Church’s relationship with the Chinese government. Therefore, he urged the Propaganda Fide to take serious action either to recall
Planchet to Europe or to transfer him to somewhere other than Beijing.
Planchet only received a token reprimand, however. He remained in
Beijing, and his misdemeanors continued to be a source of annoyance for
Costantini. It was not until 1932 that the Propaganda Fide ordered
Planchet’s leave through a command of his Lazarist superior. This decision
was reached because of Costantini’s claim that Planchet had supposedly confessed during a private conversation. Whether or not the new evidence was
credible, it became the deciding factor in the Propaganda Fide’s judgment on
Planchet’s departure that brought a close to a decade-long investigation.
Studying these various and sometimes contradictory documents related to
the Histoire and Planchet reveals a complicated process of identifying the
author. The charges against Planchet’s acts, besides his alleged authorship,
speak to the worries of Costantini and the Propaganda Fide amid rising tensions between the Church and China in the 1920s and early 1930s.

Review Essay
Galileo, a Model of Rational Thinking?
CHRISTOPHER M. GRANEY*
On Trial for Reason: Science, Religion, and Culture in the Galileo Affair. By
Maurice A. Finocchiaro. (Oxford: Oxford University Press. 2019. Pp.
x, 289. $32.95. ISBN 978-0-19-879792-0)
Galileo and the Science Deniers. By Mario Livio. (New York: Simon &
Schuster. 2020. Pp. xvi, 286. $28.00. ISBN 978-1-5011-9473-3)
The Shogun’s Silver Telescope: God, Art, and Money in the English Quest for
Japan. By Timon Screech. (Oxford: Oxford University Press. 2020.
Pp. xviii, 306. $35.00. ISBN 978-0-19-883203-4)
Extraterrestrial: The First Sign of Intelligent Life Beyond Earth. By Avi Loeb.
(New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. 2021. Pp. xviii, 240. $14.99.
ISBN 978-0358278146)
Reasoned. Critical. Open-minded. Fair-minded. Judicious. These
words characterize Galileo’s defense of the heliocentric theory of Nicolaus
Copernicus, according to Maurice Finocchiaro in his On Trial for Reason:
Science, Religion, and Culture in the Galileo Affair (225-48). But the book
overlooks technical details of the science of Galileo’s time. These details
matter. They make Galileo’s defense less impressive. And thus, like several
other recent books that touch on Galileo and the Catholic Church, On
Trial for Reason creates a problem for understanding this famous “affair.”
Finocchiaro has written extensively on Galileo. He has tracked down
and translated into English many documents related to “The Galileo
Affair.” He knows well the characters of the Galileo story and what they
had to say. On Trial relies heavily on Finocchiaro’s previous work: its bibliography includes sixteen of his publications, ranging in date from 1980 to
2018, and its notes abound with citations of those works.

* Prof. Graney is an astronomer and historian of science on the staff of the Specola
Vaticana (the Vatican’s astronomical observatory) in Rome and Tucson. His email address is
c.graney@vaticanobservatory.org.

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A particularly engaging section of this book is the last part of the third
chapter and the first part of the fourth (69–96). Here Finocchiaro presents
Galileo progressing in his view of heliocentrism. In 1597, Finocchiaro
writes, Galileo has merely a “mathematical appreciation” of heliocentrism
(71): “he obviously does not think that the Copernican arguments are conclusive or even strong enough to convince someone who, unlike [the
astronomer Johannes] Kepler, is not already favorably inclined [73].” Thus
Galileo “neither believed nor accepted Copernicanism as true. Indeed, as
he confessed later, he was much more impressed by the observational
astronomical objections against it, and deemed them to be strong and
unanswerable [75].” But the telescope, which Galileo began using in 1609,
changed that. By 1614 Galileo was strongly endorsing heliocentrism,
labelling it as “certain” and “conclusive” (86).
Yet Galileo kept an open mind. He was willing to include, in his 1632
Dialogue on the Two Chief World Systems, Ptolemaic and Copernican, Pope
Urban VIII’s argument that divine omnipotence put certain knowledge of
the universe beyond our reach. Galileo complied with the request to end
the book with this argument, says Finocchiaro, and “such compliance
reflected in part Galileo’s readiness and willingness to be cooperative and
accommodating. It also reflected his judgment and recognition that there
was something right about the pope’s favorite objection [126].”
The outcome of Galileo’s reasoned, critical, open-minded, fairminded, and judicious look at the evidence was, of course, that heliocentrism comes out on top. He provided “a robust confirmation of the theory
[3].” His ways of thinking and searching for truth became “a model of
rationality [11],” “a model of critical reasoning and critical thinking [248].
And thus over time he has properly come to be seen as having been tried
by the Inquisition for the chief offense of making a “reasoned defense of
Copernicanism,” despite it having been declared false and contrary to
scripture by Church officials, and that defense has come to be seen as his
key contribution to what we now call the Copernican Revolution (257)—
itself “the most important intellectual transformation in human history
[225].” Finocchiaro states that he is not out to produce a hagiography of
Galileo (258), but the Galileo of On Trial is nevertheless quite a guy.
Galileo could hardly be that guy portrayed in On Trial—who could?
But understanding why Galileo was not quite that model of rationality,
critical reasoning, and critical thinking requires wading through technical
scientific details. These details often glaze the eyes of even many hardy
readers. They are generally not found in On Trial.

CHRISTOPHER GRANEY

423

Details are key to understanding why Galileo or anyone else would
find the observational astronomical objections against heliocentrism
“strong and unanswerable.” Note that well: arguments against heliocentrism—astronomical arguments, scientific arguments—being strong and
unanswerable. Finocchiaro tells us that heliocentrism was not scientifically
self-evident, even to a man who is a model of reasoning and thinking, at
least not prior to the telescope.
And it was not after the telescope, either. On Trial points this out,
using as example a plaque, dated 1887, on a column by the Villa Medici in
Rome, proclaiming that the Villa once “was a prison for Galileo Galilei,
guilty of having seen the earth turn around the sun [220].” Finocchiaro
notes that plaque as formulating an “empiricist myth,” given the impossibility, even today, of directly seeing the Earth turn around the sun (221).
Indirect evidence, then, tells us that Earth circles the sun. Galileo
argued that the ocean tides were such indirect evidence. On Trial discusses
this argument (144–49). Under heliocentrism, Earth’s double motion of
yearly revolution around the sun plus daily rotation causes every point on
Earth’s surface to move with a daily varying speed. Galileo hypothesized
that this variation drove the water in the ocean basins to “slosh” back and
forth, a “sloshing” made manifest in the tides. This implied daily tides,
whereas Mediterranean tides occur twice daily, so Galileo added that a
sea’s tidal period is determined by its length and depth. These govern the
time required for water to surge from one end of the sea to the other—that
time determining the tidal period. Thus, he said, while the Mediterranean’s
tides occur twice a day, in a much larger sea like the Atlantic Ocean, they
would be different. Indeed, he noted in a discourse that he wrote in 1616
to Cardinal Alessandro Orsini that the tides occur but once daily in
Lisbon, Portugal, in conformity with the double motion hypothesis.
But tides occur twice daily in Lisbon. By 1619 Galileo had been
informed of that. Yet in his Dialogue of 1632, he again put forward his
tides hypothesis—but omitting any mention of Lisbon and the Atlantic
tides. The tidal period being the same in the Atlantic as in the Mediterranean is a serious blow to Galileo’s hypothesis, yet he withheld that crucial
bit of data in the Dialogue. Withholding contrary data will land any scientist in hot water today. It is a major scientific no-no. A model of critical
thinking does not omit Lisbon.
Finocchiaro translated the discourse to Orsini. It is in his 1989 book
The Galileo Affair, a Documentary History. Lisbon is on page 128. Lisbon

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GALILEO, A MODEL OF RATIONAL THINKING?

could be in the pages of On Trial. If it were, Galileo would seem less of a
model guy.
Another thing that could be in the pages of On Trial are the sizes of
stars, another eye-glazing technical subject. Star sizes were a strong and
unanswerable argument against heliocentrism, even after the telescope.
Finocchiaro discusses the problem of “annual parallax”—the yearly changes
in the appearances of the stars that should occur were the Earth moving
relative to them in an annual circle. No such changes were seen, and this
was “an objection [to heliocentrism] which he [Galileo] could not really
refute [142].”
The Copernican response to this objection had been that the stars were
so distant as to make the parallax too small to detect, but such stellar distances had implications for stellar sizes. Finocchiaro states (39) that stars
were cataloged “in terms of apparent brightness (called magnitude),” where
“stars of the first magnitude were the brightest, and those of the sixth magnitude were the faintest,” and “the brightest star was named Sirius or the
Dog Star.” But “magnitude” means “bigness,” not “brightness.” Astronomers
of Galileo’s time, like astronomers throughout most of history, saw stars in
terms of apparent size, not apparent brightness. Modern astronomers think of
stars in terms of brightness, and have adapted the historical term “magnitude” to that way of thinking—but that was a much later development.
For stars to be as distant as heliocentrism required, and still show the
apparent sizes they do in the night sky, necessitated that their absolute
sizes be enormous. Stars in a heliocentric universe had to dwarf utterly the
sun and planets. Kepler calculated Sirius to be larger in absolute size than
the orbit of Saturn, and so even the smallest visible star had to be larger
than the orbit of Earth. The telescope did not change this significantly,
something the German astronomer Simon Marius had pointed out by
1614. In a geocentric universe, by contrast, the stars were comparable in
absolute size to other celestial bodies.
The sun-dwarfing stars disturbed many astronomers. Even in the Dialogue, the neutral character, Sagredo, acknowledges that “for a fixed star to
look as large as it does” in a heliocentric universe, “it would actually have
to be so immense in bulk as to exceed the earth’s orbit—a thing which is,
as they say, entirely unbelievable.”1 Galileo tried to address this in the Dia1. Galileo Galilei, Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems: Ptolemaic and
Copernican, trans. Stillman Drake [Modern Library Science] (New York, 2001), 432.

CHRISTOPHER GRANEY

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logue, spending many pages on parallax and star sizes. But the pro-Copernican character, Salviatti, commits two more major scientific no-nos while
talking about these things, both involving proposals of how to observe stars
and reveal parallax—one regarding parallax in a closely-spaced pair of stars,
the other regarding cutting in half the telescopically observed disc of a star
with an obstructing object. Finocchiaro touches on Salviatti’s proposed
observations (143), but makes no mention of the scientific no-nos.
 
 
 
  

 

   


   On Trial ’s
strengths. For example, twice the sun is described as having, under geocentrism, an eastern annual motion about Earth (48, 68). Since all celestial
bodies rise in the east and set in the west, under geocentrism all bodies, the
sun included, move around Earth in a westerly manner only.
moves easterly relative to the stars—passing through the various constellations of the zodiac—but the sun is moving westerly around the Earth, just
slower than the stars. Tides or star sizes involve far more technical details
than the motion of the sun, and this could explain why these scientific
objections to heliocentrism receive no attention in On Trial.

But consider another recent book on Galileo: Galileo and the Science
Deniers by Mario Livio. An astrophysicist, Livio could certainly give attention to eye-glazing technical details. He writes, “very few of the known
biographies [of Galileo] were written by a research astronomer or astrophysicist. I believe, or at least hope, that someone actively engaged in
astrophysical research can bring a novel perspective and fresh insights even
to this seemingly overworked arena [xv].”
Livio’s Galileo has more flaws than Finocchiaro’s, and at times Livio
also lays out clearly some of the strong, unanswerable scientific objections
to heliocentrism. For example, he mentions the case of Cesare Cremonini.
Cremonini, says Livio (98), was an atheist, so scriptural problems with a
moving Earth would not have concerned him. Yet he was disinterested in
what the telescope revealed. Livio writes that “Cremonini wanted something deeper than what had been revealed by Galileo’s observations. He
noted, for instance, that if the Moon was indeed a terrestrial-like body, as
Galileo’s findings had implied, it should have fallen toward the Earth.”
In terms of the science of the time, what Cremonini said made sense:
terrestrial bodies, like rocks, fell downward; they were heavy and hard to
move; they did not circle overhead in the sky.
geocentric physics of Aristotle (whom Cremonini staunchly defended),
explained the motions of celestial bodies by assuming they were made of a

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GALILEO, A MODEL OF RATIONAL THINKING?

substance, not found on Earth, that naturally stayed up in the heavens and
moved in circles. That physics could not explain the motion of a terrestriallike Moon or of the vast, heavy ball of rock that was Earth itself. By contrast, in a geocentric system like that of Tycho Brahe (one fully compatible
with telescopic discoveries), the basic geocentric structure of Aristotelian
physics remained intact. Livio notes that, “In the absence of a theory that
could explain why this [fall of the moon] was not happening (a situation
that lasted until Newton [decades after Galileo]), Cremonini was not prepared to give up Aristotelian views.”
Nevertheless, Galileo and the Science Deniers, like On Trial, portrays
Galileo as a man of reason, asked to “give up convictions that had been
forged on the basis of painstaking scientific observations and brilliant
deductions [115],” to abandon “what he regarded as the only possible logical conclusions in favor of what amounted to a seventeenth-century version of political correctness [116],” namely, concern over conflicts with
scripture. Livio points out that “Galileo was right after all” and “facts were
facts [116].” He does briefly mention the star size problem (65), but as a
modern astronomer Livio knows that apparent sizes of stars are artifacts of
optics, something Galileo did not know. Livio assumes Galileo did know,
however, and leaves the matter there. He overlooks Galileo’s scientific nonos regarding parallax observations. He makes no mention of Lisbon
despite discussing both the discourse to Orsini (127) and the Dialogue
(171) regarding tides. He describes Marius as unable even to recognize that
Jupiter’s moons orbit it (69), a statement that is incorrect.
Thus Galileo ends up being the guy who was right, opposed by science
deniers fixated on scripture. Livio, the astrophysicist, tells the same story as
Finocchiaro, likewise overlooking how scientific issues like tides and star
sizes were on the minds of Galileo’s opponents—and in particular, how
they were on the minds of people involved in the Church’s actions against
heliocentrism: Francesco Ingoli, Melchoir Inchofer, and Zaccaria
Pasqualigo, all involved in those actions, all raised questions about star
sizes or tidal periods in their writings.
As we consider how to understand Finocchiaro’s and Livio’s portrayals
of Galileo as a model of reason, opposed by science deniers, we should note
that Livio’s book is published by Simon & Schuster, Finocchiaro’s by
Oxford University Press. These portrayals passed through the editorial
processes of two well-regarded publishers. Lisbon was overlooked anyway.
Perhaps Galileo can be a model of reason and Lisbon can be overlooked, not because of the difficulty of dealing with technical details, but

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because the Galileo story is so established that no one, not even in an
Oxford University Press review process, thinks to question the idea that
Galileo was a model of reason. Long ago, Einstein famously described him
as a representative of rational thinking who stood up against indolent men
defending their authority and their mythical thinking. Finocchiaro today
sees criticism of Galileo’s thinking as comparable to questioning the
Earth’s motion—“almost as false and untenable,” he says (258). As an
astronomer and scholar with the Vatican’s astronomical observatory, I am
aware that among the many who might agree with Einstein and Finocchiaro was Fr. George V. Coyne, S. J., the Director of the Vatican Observatory from 1978 to 2006 who served on the Galileo Commission of Pope
St. John Paul II. Finocchiaro sees the work of that Commission as muddled and not sufficiently pro-Galilean (175–176, 223). So did Coyne.2 But
Coyne never seems to have come across Lisbon and star sizes and cutting
star discs. The tendency to overlook Lisbon and simply accept that Galileo
equates to reason is a problem for those who wish to understand this
famous “affair,” as two other books illustrate.
The first book is another recently published by Oxford: The Shogun’s
Silver Telescope: God, Art, and Money in the English Quest for Japan, 16001625 by Timon Screech. Galileo and his opponents appear in the book,
which is about English efforts to sell their wares in Japan in the early seventeenth century. The title refers to a telescope sent to Japan in 1611.
Screech proposes that the purpose of this telescope was to help the English
gain access to Japan by discrediting the members of the Society of Jesus who
had already been there for some time. The telescope would do this, according to Screech, by showing that the geocentric astronomy that the Jesuits
taught was wrong. “The Japanese were thirsty for scientific knowledge, and
the Jesuits taught as much astronomy as theology,” he writes (74). “A telescope could be used to turn the tables,” against the Jesuits, because, he says,
“a telescope would confuse and embarrass their whole mission.”
Screech explains how it would do this (73):
Here is the crux: telescopes allowed any careful observer to see that
Copernicus was correct. The instrument made it possible to detect with
one’s own eyes—never mind abstruse calculations in Latin—that the
earth does revolve around the sun. To maintain the opposite view, after
1608, was to persist in wilful error.

2. George V. Coyne S.J., “The Church’s Most Recent Attempt to Dispel the Galileo
Myth,” in: Faith and Knowledge: Towards a New Meeting of Science and Theology, ed. Gustav
Teres, S.J. (Città del Vaticano, 2007), 146–70.

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GALILEO, A MODEL OF RATIONAL THINKING?

Of course, as Finocchiaro points out in his comments about the Villa
Medici plaque, this is incorrect. Equally problematic are statements in the
book to the effect that by 1611 Cardinal Robert Bellarmine was “preparing
to launch the papacy’s devastating attack on Galileo [235],” or that the
“terrible findings” of telescopes in general “were shaking the papacy [236].”
Rather, in 1611 Jesuit astronomers confirmed Galileo’s discoveries with
their own telescopes, and honored him in Rome. Silver Telescope contains
other problems, such as misspelled titles of Copernicus’s (72) and Galileo’s
(10) books, and statements that in 1610 Galileo was rewarded for his telescopic discoveries with a job at the University of Pisa (74), where he continued his work (77).
The second book is by the Harvard astronomer Avi Loeb: Extraterrestrial: The First Sign of Intelligent Life Beyond Earth. The book is about
Loeb’s hypothesis concerning the object named ‘Oumuamua that sped
through the solar system in 2017—namely that its dramatic brightness
fluctuations, and its deviation from its expected trajectory, can be best
explained by it being a piece of space junk from an extraterrestrial civilization. But Galileo and the Church are also part of the book. Loeb writes
about facing a roomful of reporters during the “frenzy” that followed his
articulation of his hypothesis about ‘Oumuamua (33–34):
I reminded my audience of Galileo’s seventeenth-century declaration that
the evidence visible through his telescope suggested that the Earth orbited
the Sun. It is one of the most familiar and oft-told stories in the annals of
science. . . . Galileo’s data implied that the Earth, along with all the other
planets, revolved around the Sun. This ran directly counter to the teachings of the Catholic Church, which accused Galileo of heresy. Following
a trial during which it is claimed his accusers refused to even look through
his telescope, Galileo was found guilty of heresy. . . .
Galileo was forced to abandon his data and discovery and recant his
statement that the Earth circled the Sun, but legend has it that afterward,
Galileo whispered under his breath, “And yet it moves.” The story is
likely apocryphal, and even if it’s true, its truth is beside the point—or at
least it was for poor Galileo. Consensus had won out over evidence. . . .
What I wished to convey was that history has taught us to keep
returning to the evidence about ‘Oumuamua, testing our hypotheses
against it, and, when others try to silence us, whispering to ourselves,
“And yet it deviated.”

Extraterrestrial is not about history, but Loeb repeatedly returns to the
Galileo story, to the idea of refusing to look through a telescope, and to
“and yet it deviated.”

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429

Yet refusal even to look through a telescope did not play a part in the
Galileo story. Finocchiaro notes how the future Urban VIII, the man most
responsible for Galileo’s trial, wrote in 1620 a poem that praised Galileo
and his telescopic discoveries (123); the poem specifically mentions
Jupiter’s moons and the spots on the sun. Galileo was not forced to abandon his data and discoveries. They had all been confirmed, and even
improved upon, often by scientists within the Church. And consensus had
not won out over evidence. Solid evidence for, and a resolution to the scientific problems with heliocentrism would be long in coming.
Extraterrestrial and Silver Telescope contain basic errors. Some attention to the details of the Galileo story, or some consideration that heliocentrism might not have been the obvious choice for any reasonable
person, might have caught these errors. They were not caught, despite all
the resources available to the authors and publishers of these two books,
and that is a problem for those who wish to understand this story.
The four books reviewed here show that details matter. The Galileo
story is a story of scientific details (Finocchiaro notes that Galileo’s trial
“hinged precisely on the key scientific claims of the Copernican world view
[226]”). Whether Galileo was a model of rational thinking, whether he was
put on trial for reason, whether his opponents were science deniers,
whether anyone with a telescope could see that Earth moves—even
whether heliocentrism, with its sun-dwarfing stars and difficulties with
physics, might have reasonably been called “false” in the early seventeenth
century—judging these questions requires first digging into science as it
was in Galileo’s time.
None of these four books busy themselves with the scientific details of
the Galileo story; two neglect even the most basic details. For those who
want to read that Galileo was quite a guy, this hardly matters. But it is a
problem for those who wish to understand the story. Perhaps among readers of Catholic Historical Review are historians who can figure out how to
present this story of science to a world whose eyes glaze over at too many
scientific details, but who are willing to imagine a reasoned, critical, openminded, fair-minded, and judicious scientist, brought down by men who
would not even look through a telescope and see for themselves that the
Earth moves.

Book Reviews
ANCIENT
Making Christian History: Eusebius of Caesarea and His Readers. By Michael
J. Hollerich. [Christianity in Late Antiquity, 11]. (Oakland, CA: University of California Press. 2021. Pp. xi, 316. $95.00. ISBN 978-0520-2953-60. eBook ISBN 9780520968134.)
Despite Jacob Burkhardt’s often repeated accusation of being “the
first thoroughly dishonest and unfair historian of ancient times,” Eusebius
of Caesarea (c. 260-339AD) and his Historia ecclesiastica cannot be easily
set aside. Eusebius’s contemporary readers highly esteemed his Historia,
the ten-book annotated anthology preserving what he deemed to be the
most important textual evidence of the first three-hundred years of Christian history. Less than a century after the author’s death, manuscript evidence shows widespread diffusion of his Greek original, prompt translations into Latin, Syriac, and Armenian (and possibly Coptic), and new
authors who filled in and continued the Historia up to their own times.
Printed editions in Greek, Latin, and modern vernacular languages have
circulated since the sixteenth century. Modern studies of early Christianity nearly all depend heavily on fragments of cited works only preserved
within the Historia. For seventeen hundred years, Eusebius’s Historia
ecclesiastica has remained the point of departure for all stripes of ecclesiastical historiographers—whether enthusiastic continuers, or cautious critics. Nevertheless, no single study has attempted to examine its transmission and reception until now.
Michael Hollerich has produced a valuable study on Eusebius and the
Historia ecclesiastica by asking “how subsequent tradition used him over the
very long period since he wrote his history” (p. 2). Hollerich begins by following the book as it moves through the Late Antique Christian oecumene
under ever-changing conditions. He explains that “although we will treat
these traditions separately [Greek, Latin, Syriac, Armenian, Coptic], they
were by no means separate in reality. We will see repeated instances of
cross-fertilization—whether by borrowing, imitation, or competition—
across linguistic, ecclesiastical, and political boundaries” (p. 47). After an
introduction to Eusebius and the Historia ecclesiastica, Hollerich dedicates
Chapter 2 to the Greek imperial continuers Socrates, Sozomen, and
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Theodoret, and the Latin translation by Rufinus (pp. 47–87). Chapter 3
traces the early reception in “the Non-Greek East” (pp. 88–140), ranging
from East Syrian Christians (Church of the East) and the West Syrian
Orthodox, to Armenian historiographers and the complex influence on the
Coptic tradition. Chapters 4 and 5 cover the medieval West and East
respectively (pp. 141–70; pp. 171–190), extending from Cassiodorus to
Jacobus de Voragine, and tracing briefly the Byzantine variations of the
“chronicle” genre which proliferated according to Eusebius’s models.
Finally, Chapters 6 and 7 (pp. 191–237; pp. 238–73) present the Historia
ecclesiastica in the age of humanism, the subsequent crisis and “confessionalization” of Church history, and on through the stages of French and
German critical method from the seventeenth century up to the boiling
point of the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries.
Chapter 3 on the “Non-Greek East” especially stands out as it traces
the common intellectual bonds forged by the Historia between imperial
Christian historiographers and those on the ecclesial and geographic
periphery. Hollerich draws on experts in highly specialized fields in order
to present readers with lesser-known authors like Jacob of Edessa, Dionysius of Tel-Maḥre, Michael the Syrian, as well as the early Armenian
scholars Mesrop Maštoc’ and Koriwn, and their medieval heirs Movsēs
Xorenac’i and Step’anos Tarōnec’i. The transmission of the Historia into
Armenian depended on a Syriac translation of a Greek version partially
influenced by Rufinus’s early Latin translation. Eusebius’s Historia and
other works flowed through the monastic and cathedral school networks of
the fifth and sixth centuries across the Eastern Mediterranean and deep
into Mesopotamia.
Hollerich’s work may upturn some assumptions, while clearly inviting
further studies. Does the history of Eusebius’s readers challenge Walter
Bauer’s thesis of ecclesial isolation and complete autonomy between Christian groups in Late Antiquity? Which elements of the Historia caused such
diverse readers to identify so closely with his book as to become authors
who filled in the “gap years” from Eusebius up to their own time? What
can the interface between exegesis and ecclesial historiography tell us about
early and medieval ecclesiology and scholarly method? How might scholarship on the relationship between historiography and formation of identity (Walter Pohl and Veronika Wieser, 2019) help to explain the enduring
reception of the Historia? Hollerich acknowledges the modern detractions
made against Eusebius for his “providentialism,” his theo-political vision
(pp. 10–22), his belief in the divine origin of the Church, and his confidence in the link between good scholarship and good apologetics (p. 39).

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BOOK REVIEWS

Could these guiding principles have scriptural roots which precede him? If
so, might some of the methodological objections against Eusebius actually
belong to the theological content of Christian belief itself, rather than the
mere invention of a fourth century scholar-bishop?
Making Christian History is a welcome addition to the growing field
of new Eusebian scholarship on the reception and influence of his innovative management of sources: from the Gospel Canons to his chronography and his largescale apologetic projects (Matthew Crawford, 2019;
Richard Burgess and Witold Witakowski, 1999; Daniel Rosenberg and
Anthony Grafton, 2012; Sabrina Inowlocki, 2006; Cristian Mondello,
2017). It also introduces English readers to the findings of a multi-volume
on-going European research project on the Historia ecclesiastica (Sébastien
Morlet and Lorenzo Peronne, 2013), and provides a valuable roadmap for
scholars and students of Church History, Early Christian Studies, historiography, and studies of the historical transmission of knowledge. Paired
well with Jeremy Schott’s new English translation and commentary of the
Historia (2019), Michael Hollerich’s Making Christian History contextualizes and reintroduces Eusebius’s Historia ecclesiastica to a new generation
of readers who will have to forge their own chapter of reception history in
the years ahead.
The Catholic University of America SR. MARIA THEOTOKOS ADAMS, SSVM

MEDIEVAL
Christianization and Commonwealth in Early Medieval Europe: A Ritual
Interpretation. By Nathan J. Ristuccia. (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2018. Pp. xi, 260. $105.00. ISBN 978-01988-10209.)
In his Acknowledgments, Nathan Ristuccia remarks that this, his first
book, is not his revised dissertation but a side project that developed out of
it. It shows. It shows negatively, just a little, in arguments he might have
developed in more detail (particularly with respect to the surprisingly early
decline of the processions). More often it shows positively. For although
this is a very fine piece of scholarship, there is nothing at all ponderous
about it. It is deftly written, and the author has a knack for pithy, koan-like
quips that bring one up short and make one think. Ristuccia is not merely
filling in a gap in our knowledge but addressing a topic of real importance
(indeed, I have been waiting for a book on this subject for decades). And
he takes chances, using the appearance and development of Rogation Days
to ask truly profound questions about the nature of Christianization and

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the articulation of Christian communities in western Europe during the
early middle ages. The Rogation Days were three days of penitential
devotions and processions that usually occurred immediately before
Ascension Thursday, though in some parts of Europe they were held
immediately before or after Pentecost. Ristuccia demonstrates that credit
for the creation of the litanies really is due to Bishop Mamertus of Vienne
in c. 472. The practice was quickly taken up by other Gallo-Roman bishops
and then made standard with the expansion of Frankish power. Ristuccia
also argues, quite convincingly, that the Rogation Days were not a
Christianized substitute for a Roman fertility feast of the Ambarvalia, since
no such feast existed. They did, however, tap into a lively Roman culture of
processions. Indeed, Mamertus and his colleagues developed them less to
“Christianize” some putatively “pagan” feast than to strengthen a failing
Roman civic culture, now sustained by bishops themselves. However, this
initial impulse does not explain why Rogationtide ended up becoming the
most prominent feast, after Easter, of early medieval Latin churches. One
reason Ristuccia suggests is that after the demise of the catechumenate, the
church needed to find a replacement period for educating Christians in the
faith. Rogation Days provided a perfect opportunity. They brought all
Christians of any given locality together, in one place, for processions,
masses, fasting, and almsgiving. The combination of such devotions served
as jumping-off points for sermons about the obligations of Christians and
the nature of Christianity and Christian history, with the Lord’s Prayer
(which all Christians were to know by heart) often serving as a framework
for such teachings. Then, too, Rogationtide processions literally made
visible the local church as a collective of individual Christians. That church
was not, however, organized in territorially delimited parishes, and the
early Rogation processions were no “beating of the bounds” of a village or
parish of the sort one only finds much later. They were much more
“stational.” That is, large dioceses had a number of baptismal churches
whose priests served neighboring villages, hamlets, and estates. Each
Rogation procession began at a baptismal church and went out to nearby
churches, shrines, and even rural crosses, returning to the baptismal church
for a mass and sermon, and ending, it seems, with feasting. Rogationtide
processions therefore made visible the unity of Christians with each other
(and against Jews). They also reinforced the ties binding local churches to
the regional church that dispensed the major sacraments. Thus, Ristuccia
argues, “Christianization” was not a replacement of “pagan” beliefs by
“Christian” beliefs but the creation of both Christian communities and a
newly Christian space.
University of California, Berkeley

GEOFFREY KOZIOL

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BOOK REVIEWS

REFORMATION
Contested Reformations in the University of Cambridge 1 5 3 5 ‒ 1 5 8 4 . By Ceri
Law. (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press for the Royal Historical Society. 2018. Pp. 245. $52.00. ISBN 978-0-86193-347-1).
In the updated preface to the 1972 reprinting of his Reformation and
Reaction in Tudor Cambridge, H. C. Porter provided readers with a lengthy
list of books and articles that had been published on the subject since his
book first appeared in 1958. Ceri Law’s recent study deserves to be at the
top of any such list today, and it will be of particular interest to readers of
this journal. While the title of Porter’s book suggested that the reader
might find an account of both Protestantism and Catholicism in Tudor
Cambridge, his focus was overwhelmingly on Protestant (and especially
puritan) Cambridge. Porter’s chapter on Mary I’s reign, for example, was
entirely about the Protestant exiles who left Cambridge during those years.
Law’s Contested Reformations corrects this imbalance, but without swinging
to the opposite extreme. Acknowledging that “a story of Protestant triumph cannot be swapped for one of Catholic resistance,” she aims “not to
demolish but to complicate and nuance the idea of ‘godly Cambridge’” by
drawing attention to the ongoing presence of religious conservatism in
Tudor Cambridge and to the ways in which Protestant reform was contested within the university (p. 188).
While evangelicalism was “much more entrenched in Cambridge than
in almost any other community in England” during Edward VI’s reign,
Law shows that nevertheless there were conservative (if minimally conformable) Edwardian fellows at colleges like St John’s and Trinity who
troubled their evangelical colleagues enormously (p. 51). The restoration of
Catholic Cambridge under Mary I that Law describes would be “fuelled by
those who had accepted religious change under Henry and Edward, even
if they had never embraced it” (p. 98). Early Elizabethan Cambridge did
not witness a purge of Marian fellows (with the exception of St John’s
under its new master, James Pilkington) and the case studies that Law
presents in chapter 6 show that the famous “turncoat” Andrew Perne was
not the only conservative who was able to make a way within the Elizabethan university. Elizabethan conservatives appear in the sources precisely
because they came into conflict with their Protestant colleagues, of course,
but—sounding an increasingly common theme in the historiography—
Law argues that their tolerated presence also reveals the possibilities of
cross-confessional “compromise and co-existence,” even in the fractious
environment of the university.

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Here and elsewhere, Law draws attention to the distinctive features of
the early modern university as a community, and she considers the ways in
which the experience of the Reformation within the university was similar
and dissimilar to other communities. Chapter 5 focuses especially on university dynamics, examining the operation of competing sources of external
power on and in Elizabethan Cambridge. The university was a temporary
home for most of its denizens, and Law’s discussion of departures from
Marian and Elizabethan Cambridge (along with two very useful and
detailed appendices) complicates and expands our understanding of the
motives behind these moves. In sum, Contested Reformations does not
replace Porter’s Reformation and Reaction, but it is an essential companion
and corrective to it that adds a great deal to our knowledge of the English
Reformation and the workings of Tudor Cambridge.
University of Miami

KARL GUNTHER

Notes and Comments
ASSOCIATION NEWS
Plans for the annual meeting in New Orleans at the Sheraton Hotel
on January 6–8, 2022 were discussed at the July 26 meeting of the
Executive Council. They include nine sessions with three or four panels
each, a special panel on Black Catholic Archives, a tour of “African
American Catholic New Orleans,” a “Highway to Purgatory: Music
Session and Social,” a Presidential Luncheon at Antoine’s Restaurant in
the French Quarter, a liturgy at Our Lady of Guadalupe Church, and a
closing reception in the Armstrong Ballroom of the Sheraton Hotel.
The Association is seeking to establish the Christopher J. Kauffman
Prize in U.S. Catholic History. Dr. Christopher Kauffman (1936–2018)
was a gifted scholar, a tireless advocate for the field of U.S. Catholic history, and promoter of those who studied it. Over his long and distinguished career, he authored ten books and over one-hundred articles, and
served as editor of the U.S. Catholic Historian (1983–2013). The American
Catholic Historical Association (ACHA) is sponsoring a prize in his
honor. The Kauffman prize will be awarded to the author of a monograph
that provides new or challenging insights for the study of U.S. Catholic
history. A gift to fund this prize may be made online at achahistory.org or
by mail (memo line: Christopher J. Kauffman Book Prize): ACHA,
Mount St. Mary’s University, 16300 Old Emmitsburg Rd., Emmitsburg,
MD 21727.

AWARD
The Royal Historical Society has awarded the David Berry Prize for
the best published scholarly journal article dealing with Scottish history to
Dr. Stuart McManus of the Chinese University of Hong Kong for his
article “Scots at the Council of Ferrara-Florence and the Background to
the Scottish Renaissance” that appeared in the Catholic Historical Review,
106 (2020), 347–70. The citation reads:
“Stuart’s article offers the first study of the Scottish presence at the
Council of Ferrara-Florence. It aims to show that educated and wellconnected Scots were present in one of the premier cultural centres of the
436

NOTES AND COMMENTS

437

early Renaissance such that the flowering of classicising culture in Scotland
a generation later comes as no surprise. This is a strikingly original piece of
work, based on painstaking research using very limited sources. The results
of this research are impressive, first, for setting in better context the
emergence of Renaissance ideals in Scotland and, second, in underlining the
importance of ecumenical councils like that of Ferrara-Florence in
understanding the longer history of European cultural integration.”

FELLOWSHIPS
The Leibniz Institute of European History (IEG) in Mainz awards
fellowships to young academics (doctoral and postdoctoral researchers)
from Germany and abroad. Funding is provided for both doctoral and
postdoctoral research dealing with the religious, political, social and cultural
history of Europe from the early modern period to 1989/90. Comparative,
transnational, and transfer-historical research projects are particularly
welcome, as are projects which deal with topics of intellectual, theological,
or church history. The deadline for post-doctoral applications is Ocotber 15,
2021 For further information, please contact: fellowship@ieg-mainz.de.

CONFERENCES
On September 30 to October 2, 2021 the Gesellschaft für
Konziliengeschichte and the Forschungsstelle für Vergleichende
Ordensgeschichte an der Universitāt Dresden will sponsor an international
conference on the theme “Konzilien und die Welt der Klöster.” It will
study the influence of the monastic and mendicant orders on the doctrinal
and disciplinary decrees of the councils. For more information, please
contact Dr. Mirko Breitenstein at mirko.breitenstein@tu-dresden.de.
On October 7–8, 2021 the Babeș-Bolyai University of Cluj-Napoca,
Romania, together with the Reformation Research Consortium and the
Long Reformation in Eastern Europe (1500–1800) Research Team will
hold a workshop that seeks to present and discuss new projects, new
possibilities for cooperation, and new initiatives to support junior and
senior researchers, universities, and libraries. For more information, see:
https://www.reforc.com/new-chances/.
On October 27 to 29, 2021 the Pontificio Comitatio di Scienze
Storiche and the Université Catholique de Lyon will sponsor the conference
“Inchiesta sulla Storia dei Primi Secoli della Chiesa” at the Istituto Maria
Sanctissima Bambina in Rome. The first session will treat the current
historiography on the origins of the history of the Church in four papers: “I

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NOTES AND COMMENTS

primi secoli della Chiesa, una posta in gioco teologica e istituzionale” by
Josep Ignasi Sarayana Closa; “L’état des connaissances sur la Palestine à
l’époque d’Hérode” by Bruno Bioui; “Les Actes des Apôtres, première
historiographie chrétienne” by Daniel Marguerat; and “Adolf von Harnack
e la storia dei primi secoli della Chiesa: giudizi confermati e smentiti” by
Antonio Pitta. The second and third sessions will deal with a world of
exchanges between the Mediterrean and Eurasia in eight papers: “”La
mobilité dans le monde romain” by Claudia Moatti; “The financial balance
of economic exchanges from the Roman point of view” by Raoul
McLaughlin; “Rome et l’irrésistible appel du lointain” by Yves Roman; “Les
diasporas hébraïques, l’usage et la diffusion de l’araméen en Asie” by Yousif
Thomas Mirkis; “Les mouvements de la diaspora juive: repères
topographiques et chronologiques pour la mission chrétienne” by MarieFrançoise Baslez; “L’essor des routes de la soie, les tracés et les acteurs” by
Maxime Yevadian; “Le esportazioni indiani verso il Medio Oriente e
l’Occidente mediterraneo” by Fedrico de Romanis; and “The itineraries of
Christian missionaries in the Parthian world” by Sahar Nafi Shakir
Mahmoud. Part of the third session and the fourth session are dedicated to
a critical look at some literary texts related to the origins of the Church,
containing seven papers: “Le traité de la ‘Démonstration de la Prédication
Apostolique’ d’Irénée de Lyon” by Élie Ayroulet; “”Les ‘Actes de Thomas’:
la date de composition et les structures du texte” by Jiphy Francis
Mekkattukulam; “Le plus célèbre poème de la littérature syriaque: ‘L’hyme
de la perle’” by Pierre Perrier; “Charition Drama from Greek Papyrus 413
and the first century Indian Church of St. Thomas” by Thattunkal Mani;
“The ‘Gens Annaea’ and Early Christianity” by Ilaria Ramelli; “L’influsso
cristiano sul ‘Bhavisya Purana’” by Cristiano Dognini; and “L’emprente
chrétienne dans le ‘Satiricon’ de Pétrone” by Stéphane Ratti. The fifth and
sixth sessions deal with a critical look at some archeological findings related
to the first centuries of the Church involvng nine papers: “La frise de Kong
Wang Shang et le dossier du premier christianisme chinois” by Shueh-Ying
Liao; “L’ornementation des tombes de Xuzhou” by François-Regis Moreau;
“Le miroir à mantra marial et la patène de Xuzhou” by David Linxin He;
“Testimonianze sulla presenza di comunità cristiane nella Dobrogia
anteriori all’ imperatore Costantino il Grande” by Irina Achim;
“Testimonies on the presence of Christian communities in Iran prior to the
emperor Constantine the Great” by Sherly Avedian; “La presenza dei
cristiani a Pompei ed Ercolano: ipostesi e valutazioni” by Danilo Mazzoleni;
“Les reliques de sainte Marthe à Tarascon” by Jean-Michel Sanchez; “Les
reliques de sainte Marie-Madeleine” by Stéphane Morin; and “Le visage de
Marie-Madeleine dévoilé” by Philippe Charlier. A final paper will be by
Angelo de Bernardino, titled “Bilancio di una ricerca in corso.”

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439

On November 24 to 26, 2021 the Pontificio Comitato di Scienze
Storiche will sponsor a conference on ”I Canonici Regolari dal Medioevo
ai Nostri Giorni” to be held at the Istituto Maria Ssma. Bambina in Rome.
An inaugural address is to be given by Gert Melville on “I canonici regolari
medievali, nel contesto generale della vita religiosa, dal punto di vista dei
contemporanei.” The second session is dedicated to the theme “To the
Trees of the Canons Regulars” with four papers: “Chrodegang di Metz e i
Sinodi di Aquisgrana” by Florian Hartmann; “Autour d’une lecture d’un
synode fondamental de la Réforme Grégorienne, Latran 1059: Idéal
sacerdotal et prémisses d’une vie canoniale régulière?” by Jean-Hervé
Foulon; “Aspettative riposte nella ‘vita communis’ del clero” by Julia
Barrow; and “La fondazione di Saint-Ruf di Avignone e le prime forme di
un’autocoscienza del clero regolare” by Yannick Veyrenche. In session
three on identity in the bosom of the Church are four papers: “‘Regula
Beati Augustini’: dall’assenza alla pluralita” by Ursula Vones-Liebenstein;
“Consuetudini, statuti e privilegi: configurazione interna e rapporto con la
Chiesa” by Ulrich Gottried Leinsle; “Consolidamenti e differenziazioni:
panoramica dell’organizzazione delle gerarchie e dell’economia” by Jörg
Sonntag; and “Self-Fashioning among Regular Canons: Definitions of
Identity and Distancing from the Ordo monasticus (11th /12th Centuries)”
by Wolf Zöller. The four session, devoted to “The Actualization of a
Project of Life,” features four papers: “Un progetto di vita ‘ad instar
Apostolorum’” by Julia Becker; “La spiritualità e l’erudizione dei Canonici
regolari: il caso di San Vittore di Parigi” by Matthias M. Tischler; ”Riti e
simboli della ‘vita communis’ attraverso i libri delle consuetudini dei
Canonici regolari” by Ambrose Debut; and “Diversità di ruoli e funzioni
nella communità—uomini e donne, chierici e laici” by Christina Lutter.
The fifth session deals with the canon regulars in the millenium with five
papers: “Forme innovative e riforme nel tardo Medioevo” by Clemens
Galban; “I Canonici regolari nella Rifoma cattolica” by Isabelle Brian; “La
vita canonicale oggi: restaurazione della Congregazione di San Vittore” by
Hugues Paulze d’Ivoy; “La vita canonicale oggi: fondazione dei Canonici
regolari della Madre di Dio” by Emmanuel-Marie Lefébure du Bus; and
“La vita canonicale femminile: fondazione del monastero di Azille” by
Faustine-Marie Bouchard. The sixth and final session treats some eminent
figures among the canons regular and consists of four papers: “Anselmo di
Havelberg, canonico regolare Premostratense” by Jay T. Lees; “Arnaldo da
Brescia, canonico regolare agostiniano” by Romedio Schmitz-Esser;
“Tommaso da Kempis, agostiniano del Monte Sant’Agnese” by Paul J.J.
van Geest; and “Serafino Aceti de’ Porti, canonico regolare Lateranense”
by Pierantonio Piatti.

440

NOTES AND COMMENTS

RESEARCH PROJECT AND PUBLICATION
The German Historical Insitute of Paris has announced a project,
“Édition de la correspondence française des actes de la paix de
Westphalie,” to publish the 220 letters exchanged by the French diplomats
in Westphalia and the court in Paris relative to the Peace of Westphalia
(1648). Financed by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft, it will be
published by Aschendorff Verlag of Münster with Gold Open Access.

OBITUARIES

Reverend Thomas S. Bokenkotter
(1924–2021)
The Reverend Thomas Stephen Bokenkotter, a priest of the Archdiocese of Cincinnati, died on July 11, 2021, at age ninety-six. He was born
on August 19, 1924, in Cincinnati, Ohio, to Anthony and Gertrude
(Wessel) Bokenkotter. He attended St. Gregory Seminary, Cincinnati,
and Mount St. Mary’s Seminary of the West, Norwood, and was ordained
to the priesthood on September 8, 1950, at Sts. Peter and Paul Church in
Norwood, Ohio.
He was sent to Europe to continue his education. He obtained a licentiate in sacred theology from the Angelicum in Rome in 1951 and a doctorate in church history from the University of Louvain in Belgium in
1954. His dissertation was published as Cardinal Newman as an Historian
(1959). He considered Cardinal Newman and Lord Acton the most significant influences on his understanding of history.

NOTES AND COMMENTS

441

Upon completing his studies, he returned to the Archdiocese of
Cincinnati and served in parishes and as a high school teacher. In 1959, he
was appointed to teach history at St. Gregory’s Seminary, Cincinnati,
remaining on the faculty for two decades. He also taught courses through
Mount St. Mary’s Seminary and its Lay Pastoral Ministry Program. In
1980, he left full-time teaching and became pastor of Assumption Church
in Walnut Hills (Cincinnati), which he shepherded until the parish closed
in 2013. After becoming a pastor, he taught part-time as an adjunct professor of theology at Xavier University in Cincinnati.
Father Bokenkotter enjoyed relating that in the mid-1970s, Msgr.
John Tracy Ellis was approached about authoring a single-volume history
of the Church. Not being able to devote time to the project, Ellis suggested
the project to Bokenkotter, who began drafting what became the best-selling A Concise History of the Catholic Church. Father Bokenkotter recalled
that the first publisher who reviewed the manuscript rejected it. However,
an editor at Doubleday judged that it had merit.
First published in 1977, the Concise History filled a need: an accessible,
moderately priced survey of the Church’s history for college students and
interested lay Catholics. America magazine positively assessed the volume:
“It is all here: the peaks—Augustine and Chalcedon, Innocent III and
Aquinas, Trent and the Counter-Reformation, Vatican II and Mother
Teresa; and the valleys—which include most of the rest.” This was
Bokenkotter’s intent, to offer a survey of the Church’s history that included
the highs and the lows, and in doing so, to show how “change has been a
constant” over the Church’s two thousand years. When a second edition of
the Concise History was produced in 1990, it added material on the period
after 1976 and an annotated bibliography. It was again expanded and
updated in 2004 with a final chapter, “On the Threshold of the Third Millennium” (the volume’s longest chapter).
In 1990, the publisher numbered the Concise History’s sales at 125,000
copies. Since then, it has remained a favorite of seminary and college professors and adult faith formation instructors. In total, hundreds of thousands of copies have been purchased, making it among the best-selling of
all church history texts. The author’s wish was that this book might successfully outlive him. A survey of internet-based booksellers indicates that
it doubtlessly has.
Father Bokenkotter authored two other significant works. Dynamic
Catholicism: A Historical Catechism (formerly Essential Catholicism: Dynam-

442

NOTES AND COMMENTS

ics of Faith and Belief) was first published in 1985. It explained key Christian beliefs from the perspective of historical development. A decade later,
Church and Revolution: Catholics in the Struggle for Democracy and Social Justice (1998) explored significant figures in the Catholic social reform movement, including Félicité Lamennais, Frederic Ozanam, Jacques Maritain,
Eamon de Valera, Dorothy Day, Konrad Adenauer, Oscar Romero, and
Lech Walesa.
In addition to his teaching and scholarship, Father Bokenkotter became
a leader in social action. Beginning in the 1960s, he advocated on behalf of
exploited agricultural laborers, joining in the efforts of Cesar Chavez and the
United Farm Workers to boycott grocery stores selling produce picked by
non-union employees. In 1976, after visiting the Catholic Worker House in
New York, he was inspired to begin the Over the Rhine Soup Kitchen (now
Queen City Kitchen), the oldest soup kitchen in the city. By 1980, with the
Ohio Council of Churches, he was active in the cause of prison reform, and
in 1990, he helped found the Tom Geiger Guest House, a transitional shelter for homeless women and children. His great love for the poor and marginalized impacted every facet of his ministry.
Professionally, Father Bokenkotter was a member of the American
Historical Association and the American Catholic Historical Association.
He enjoyed photography and traveling. He leaves behind a brother and
sister and twenty-four nieces and nephews as well as former students,
parishioners, collaborators, friends, and the many who knew his charity.
Mount St. Mary’s Seminary of the West
Cincinnati, Ohio

DAVID J. ENDRES

NOTES AND COMMENTS

443

Hans Achim Pohlsander
(1927–2021)
Hans Achim Pohlsander, classicist and church historian, and a contributor to this journal, died recently at the age of 94. Pohlsander was 94
years old.
Professor Pohlsander was born in 1927 the city of Celle, Germany,
into a family belonging to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints;
his father and grandfather were priests in the church. In 1947, a year after
gaining an Arbitur at the Gymnasium Ernestinum, he emigrated to the
United States. He enlisted in the United States Army in 1950, receiving an
appointment as E-7 in the intelligence branch and remaining in the service
as a reserve from 1952–61. He had already begun classical studies at the
University of Utah; he proceeded to the masters’ program at the University
of California, Berkeley, and received his doctorate in classics from the University of Michigan in 1961.
He received an appointment in the Department of Classics at the University of Albany, part of the New York state system, where he remained
for his entire career, becoming professor in 1971 and serving as chair of the
department from 1972–78. In 1995, he became Professor Emeritus in the
same department.
Pohlsander also taught as visiting professor at Washington University
in St. Louis, Missouri; at the American University of Beirut; at Ohio State
University; and at the London Center of Brigham Young University.
Pohlsander’s early work focused upon the history of ancient Greek texts
and interpretation. In 1963 he published The Dating of Pindaric Odes by Com-

444

NOTES AND COMMENTS

parison, along with Lyrical Meters and Chronology in Sophocles. His research
later turned, however, toward the history of the early fourth century A.D.,
and the reign of Constantine. The author of numerous book reviews and articles, he also published, in 1984, Crispus: Brilliant Career and Tragic End;
Constantia in 1993; Helena: Empress and Saint in 1995; The Emperor Constantine in 1996 (second edition, 2004); and A Call to Repentance: Bishop Nicetius
of Trier to the Emperor Justinian in 2000. He also was a coauthor of A Narrative of the Chronicle of Cyprus, 1456–1489, published in 2005. In addition to
his scholarly works on the era of Constantine, Pohsander also published two
books on a particular aspect of modern history: National Monuments and
Nationalism in Nineteenth-Century Germay, in 2008, and German Monuments
in the Americas: Bonds Across the Atlantic, in 2010.
The Catholic University of America

ROBIN DARLING YOUNG

Thomas Nathaniel Tentler
(1932–2021)
Thomas N. Tentler (Tom) passed away peacefully at his home on Capitol Hill on Wednesday, July 21, 2021 from acute leukemia. Tom was born
on October 25, 1932, in Evanston, Illinois and grew up in Chicago before
attending Harvard University for his undergraduate and graduate degrees.
His senior thesis, “Erasmus and the Sacraments” (1954), evidenced an interest in the great humanistic reformer that he was to pursue throughout his
life, while his Ph.D. dissertation, “The Problem of Anxiety and Preparation
for Death in Luther, Calvin, and Erasmus” (1961), expressed another
dimension of his scholarly interests in the problems surrounding preparation
for death and the practices of consolation. Following the completion of his

NOTES AND COMMENTS

445

work at Harvard, Tom served as an instructor at the Massachusetts Institute
of Technology from 1961 to 1963 before joining the Department of History
at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. He was to remain there until
his retirement in 1999, rising from assistant to associate professor in 1971
and from associate professor to professor in 1977. In retirement, Tom joined
his wife, Leslie, in Washington, DC, where she had accepted a position at
Catholic University. During his time in the capital, he occasionally taught
seminars and advised students at Catholic as well.
Chief among Tom’s many scholarly achievements was his book, Sin
and Confession on the Eve of the Reformation (Princeton, 1978), an elegantly
written, magisterial study of the manuals for confessors in circulation in
late-medieval Europe. Where the scholarly trends of the 1960s and 1970s
tended to cast the fifteenth-century Church as a decaying institution that
carried within it the seeds of Luther’s protests and sixteenth-century
reforms, Tom viewed auricular confession as complex, hydra-headed, capable of consoling some, even as it might engender scrupulosity in others. The
scope of Sin and Confession was exhaustive and its scholarly methods innovative among the many studies of medieval and early modern religion that
appeared at the time. It remains today the authoritative treatment of sacramental penance at a pivotal point in the history of the Church.
While throughout his life Tom Tentler’s scholarly interests gravitated
towards the study of death and consolation in historical settings, his gifted
teaching put into practice the many psychological insights he had culled
from his wide reading in humanists, theologians, and social scientists. For
his friends, colleagues, and students, Tom was always a willing ear, helping
them work through both personal and scholarly problems. His great ability
as a sounding board, in particular, drew scores of students to him over the
years, and during weekly office hours a steady stream of advice seekers congregated outside his door. In his almost forty-year career at Michigan,
Tom supervised the senior theses of many undergraduate students, some of
whom have gone on to successful careers as professional historians. As a
doctoral mentor, Tom’s gifts were second to none in a large and diverse
department, and his dedication to his students was legendary. Never one to
express false praise or to back away from offering honest criticism, he saw
his task as Doktorvater as encouraging beauty of expression, clarity, and
exhaustive analysis. The circles of hospitality he nourished in his homes in
Ann Arbor and Washington, DC testify to his perceptive intelligence, profound learning, and Erasmian wit and wisdom. He will be greatly missed
by the many he touched in the course of a long and rich life.
University of Maryland, College Park

PHILIP M. SOERGEL

Periodical Literature
GENERAL AND MISCELLANEOUS
The Evolvement of the Ritual of the Lord’s Supper: An Historical
Investigation. Youssry Guirguis. Journal of Ritual Studies, 34 (2, 2020),
53–68.
L’Évolution des éloges des martyrologes des fêtes de martyrs inscrites au
calendrier romain préconciliaire pour le mois d’août. Philippe Beitia.
Ephemerides Liturgicae, 135 (Jan.–Mar., 2021), 3–23.
L’Évolution des éloges des martyrologes des fêtes de martyrs inscrites au
calendrier romain préconciliaire pour le mois de septembre. Philippe
Beitia. Ephemerides Liturgicae, 135 (Apr.–June, 2021), 129–81.
Évolutions de la théologie et de la pratique des bénédictions au cours de
l’histoire. Martin Klöckener. La Maison-Dieu, 302 (Dec. 2020), 35–
62.
Una cità, un rione, la sua strada compostellana. Ricostruzione di un quadro
di civiltà europea a Perugia. Apparato iconografico con note. II Parte.
Daniela Gambini. Compostellanum, 64 (3–4, 2019), 509–54.
La Via Romana per loca maritima. Justificación del Camino de Santiago.
Cesar M. González Crespán. Compostellanum, 64 (3–4, 2019), 577–
616.
Il Vaticano II e la questione del sacerdozio dei fratelli insegnanti: il caso dei
lasalliani. Matteo Mennini. Cristianesimo nella storia, 42 (1, 2021),
129–59.
Brève histoire du Groupe de travail orthodoxe—catholique Saint Irénée
depuis sa création il y a quinze ans. Johannes Oeldemann. Istina, 64
(Oct.–Dec., 2019), 429–38.

ANCIENT
Zur Datierungsfrage des Ersten Clemensbriefs. Eine exemplarische Evaluation anhand der Argumente bei Lightfoot und Edmundson.
Andreas Pflock. Römische Quartalschrift, 115 (1–2, 2020), 94–126.
446

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

447

The Jewish–Christian Dialogue Jason and Papiscus in Light of the
Sinaiticus Fragment. Harry Tolley. Harvard Theological Review, 114
(Jan., 2021), 1–26.
“Do Not Believe Every Spirit”: Discerning the Ethics of Prophetic Agency
in Early Christian Culture. Eugene C. Tibbs. Harvard Theological
Review, 114 (Jan., 2021), 27–50.
Dati storici e aspetti romanzeschi nelle prime due Visioni del Pastore di
Erma. Una riconsiderazione del problema alla luce di nuove scoperte
testuali. Emanuele Castelli. Augustinianum, LX (Dec., 2020), 321–40.
Haereticorum baptisma. Aspetti della controversia battesimale tra Occidente
e Oriente nel III secolo. Emanuela Prinzivalli. Augustinianum, LX
(Dec., 2020), 341–7.
Konstantin der Große und christliche Weisheit. Manuel Alejandro Rodriguez de la Pena. Römische Quartalschrift, 115 (3–4, 2020), 234–49.
Noli adhaerere velle seni mundo. Agostino e la conversione del mondo
pagano nei discorsi al popolo. Americo Miranda. Augustinianum, LX
(June, 2020), 105–31.
Augustine’s Sermo 336 for the Detection of a Church. A Study of Its
Contents, Manuscript Transmission, and Editorial History, with a
New Critical Edition. Gert Partoens. Recherches de Théologie et
Philosophie médiévales, 88 (1, 2021), 1–45.
The Ancient Readers of Augustine’s City of God. Mattias Gassman.
Augustinian Studies, 52 (1, 2021), 1–18.
From emergency practice to Christian polemics? Augustine’s invocation of
infant baptism in the Pelagian Controversy. Alexander H. Pierce.
Augustinian Studies, 52 (1, 2021), 19–41.
Du florilège au dialogue. Mise en scène, organisation et fonctionnement
des citations augustiniennes dans le «Contra philosophos.» Mickaël
Ribreau. Cristianesimo nella storia, 42 (1, 2021), 29–60.
Anastasio I di Roma e le lettere ai vescovi di Milano sulla condanna di Origene. Emanuela Prinzivalli. Cristianesimo nella storia, 42 (1, 2021), 7–28.
Les Vies de sainte Domnika (BHG 562, 562d, 562f). Textes grecs édités et
commentés avec traduction de BHG 562f. Andrey Kurbanov—Lydia
Spyridonova. Analecta Bollandiana, 138 (Dec., 2020), 241–303.
Flauia Amala Amalafrida Theodenanda e un elogio funebre della famiglia
reale ostrogota (ICUR I, 2794). Rocco Ronzani. Augustinianum, LX
(Dec. 2020), 543–69.

448

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

Cinq Passions tardo–antiques d’Italie méridionale (Donat et ses frères
Éleuthère, Potitus, Guy, Érasme). Cécile Lanéry. Analecta Bollandiana, 139 (June, 2021), 5–105.
Les Vies de sainte Domnika (BHG 562, 562d, 562f). Textes grecs édités et
commentés avec traduction de BHG 562f. Andrey Kurbanov – Lydia
Spyridonova. Analecta Bollandiana, 138 (Dec., 2020), 241–303.
Las Confesiones de San Agustín. Modesto García Grimaldos, O.S.A. La
Ciudad de Dios, 232 (Sept.–Dec., 2019), 505–40.
Die Confessiones Augustins—ein autobiographisches Projekt in der Spätantike. Winrich Löhr. Römische Quartalschrift, 114 (3–4, 2019), 159–87.
Augustins Priesterweihe in Hippo Regius (391 n. Chr.)—Selbstaussagen,
Hagiographie und moderne Deutung. Konrad Vössing. Römische
Quartalschrift, 114 (3–4, 2019), 188–217.
genium Carthaginis—Augustin als Prediger in Karthago. Therese Fuhrer.
Römische Quartalschrift, 114 (3–4, 2019), 218–33.
Saint Julian of Cicilia: Cult and Hagiography. Including the Edition and
English Translation of the Passio S. Iuliani Anazarbeni (BHG 966) and
its Epitome (BHG 967d). Efthymios Rizos. Analecta Bollandiana, 139
(June, 2021), 106–55.
Three Ways to Imitate Paul in Late Antiquity: Ekstasis, Ekphrasis,
Epektasis. Michael Motia. Harvard Theological Review, 114 (Jan.,
2021), 96–117.
Il triteismo nel VI secolo: la fase arcaica (557–567). Carlo dell’Osso. Augustinianum, LX (June, 2020), 189–207.
Saint Martin, précurseur des saints des Gaules d’après les œuvres de Grégoire de Tours. Guy Jarousseau. Annales de Bretagne et des Pays de
l’Ouest, 127 (Dec., 2020), 7–33.

MEDIEVAL
Dos nuevos fragmentos manuscritos del s. XI de la Vita vel Passio S. Desiderii (BHL 2148) de Sisebuto de Toledo (612–621): transcripción y
estudio. José Carlos Martín–Iglesias and Salvador Iranzo Abellán.
Analecta Bollandiana, 138 (Dec., 2020), 338–67.
Le rôle de tribus arabes chrétiennes dans l’intégration de l’Orient à l’Église
syro–orthodoxe: de la mort de Sévère (v. 683–684) à la crise entre
Denhā II et Julien II (r. 687–709). Simon Pierre. Mélanges de l’Ecole
française de Rome, Moyen Âge, 132 (1, 2020), 255–71.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

449

Uso politico delle reliquie e modelli di regalità longobarda du Liutprando
a Sicone di Benevento. Alessandro Di Muro. Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome, Moyen Âge, 132 (2, 2020), 373–92.
A Coptic Magical Text for Virginity in Marriage: A Witness to “Celibate
Marriage” from Christian Egypt. Lincoln H. Blumell and Korshi
Dosoo. Harvard Theological Review, 114 (Jan., 2021), 118–42.
Tra rispetto delle leggi e furti notturni. Narrazioni carolinge di spostamenti
di reliquie. Francesco Veronese. Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome,
Moyen Âge, 132 (2, 2020), 327–38.
Les origines du culte des saints martyrs Fuscien, Victoric et Gentien
d’après les sources manuscrites. Dominique Paris–Poulain. Revue
d’histoire de l’Église de France, 105 (July–Dec, 2019), 235–51.
The Encomium of the Five Martyrs Eustratius, Auxentius, Eugenius,
Mardarius and Orestes (BHG 646b) by Michael the Monk. Dirk
Krausmüller. Analecta Bollandiana, 138 (Dec., 2020), 311–37.
Il De episcoporum transmigratione: le decretali pseudo–isidoriane e i dibattiti
sul trasferimento e la deposizione dei vescovi tra la metà del IX e l’inizio del X secolo. Giulia Cò. Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome,
Moyen Âge, 132 (1, 2020), 225–34.
The content and the ideological construction of the early pontifical
manuscripts. Arthur Westwell. Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome,
Moyen Âge, 132 (1, 2020), 235–53.
Les saints médiévaux d’une cité provençale: Apt, une relecture. Thierry
Pécout. Revue d’histoire de l’Église de France, 105 (July–Dec, 2019),
213–33.
On moving bodies and monastic history. The relics and Vita of Probus of
Ravenna. Edward McCormick Schoolman. Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome, Moyen Âge, 132 (2, 2020), 339–50.
Ein Papst im Widerstreit: Paschalis II. († 21. Januar 1118). Rudolf Schieffer (†). Römische Quartalschrift, 114 (3–4, 2019), 275–92.
Papato, curia romana e diocesi tra vecchi e nuovi schemi storiografici.
Nicolangelo D’Acunto. Cristianesimo nella storia, 42 (1, 2021), 163–
87.
Stratégies épistolaires et réforme grégorienne: le cas de l’Italie méridionale
normande. Annick Peters–Custot. Le Moyen Age, 127 (2, 2020), 299–
318.

450

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

L’Église de Cologne consulte l’Église de Liège sur un problème soulevé par
l’application de la Paix de Dieu (1128–1137)—Sur les trois formes de
l’excommunication. Jean–Louis Kupper. Bulletin de la Commission
royale d’Histoire, 186 (2020), 5–22.
Recepción de Ireneo en el siglo XII. El Liber de sectis hereticorum de Balduino de Canterbury, testimonio de un manuscrito perdido del Adversus Haereses de Ireneo. José Luis Narvaja. Augustinianum, LX (June,
2020), 209–29.
“Networking” d’un espace chrétien ? Représentativité et réseaux de la correspondance pontificale aux XIIIe et XIVe siècles. Le Moyen Age, 127
(2, 2020), 319–34.
Lépreux et léproseries en Normandie orientale et Vexin au XIIIe siècle
d’après le journal des vistes pastorales d’Eudes Rigaud, archevêque de
Rouen. Bruno Tabuteau. Revue d’histoire de l’Église de France, 105
(July–Dec, 2019), 253–72.
La parola terapeutica del papa: prime indagini sui sermoni di Onorio III.
Christian Grasso. Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome, Moyen Âge, 132
(1, 2020), 29–44.
Tommaso da Celano: un francescano d’Abruzzo. Luigi Martignani. Laurentianum, 61 (3, 2020), 467–82.
Presenza degli agostiniani nell’ambito urbanistico e sociale di Roma (secoli
XIII–XV). Anna Esposito. Römische Quartalschrift, 115 (1–2, 2020),
18–28.
Negli occhi di Cristo: una visione di Margherita Colonna. Francesco Saracino. Gregorianum, 102 (2, 2021), 419–39.
Stimuli, Remedia e altre immagini: sulla rivoluzione devozionale dei francescani. Antonio Montefusco. Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome,
Moyen Âge, 132 (1, 2020), 45–55.
Nichil solvit. Norma e pratica nella contribuzione ecclesiastica per la
monarchia nella Corona d’Aragona durante il papato di Avignone e lo
Scisma (1309–1418). Esther Tello Hernández. Mélanges de l’Ecole
française de Rome, Moyen Âge, 132 (2, 2020), 439–52.
Res publica restituta? Perceiving emperors in fourteenth–century Rome.
Anne Huijbers. Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome, Moyen Âge, 132
(1, 2020), 147–68.
Il “Manipulus curatorum” di Guy de Montrochen: 250 anni di formazione
sacerdotale in Europa. Parte I. Antonio Gerace. Cristianesimo nella
storia, 42 (1, 2021), 61–85.

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451

Muslims in Medieval Inquisitorial Thought: Nicolau Eymeric and His
Contexts. Michael D. Bailey. Church History, 90 (Mar., 2021), 1–20.
John Wyclif and the Eucharistic Words of Institution: Context and Aftermath. Ian Christopher Levy. Church History, 90 (Mar., 2021), 21–44.
L’enfer froid en images (xve et xvie siècles). Christian Kermoal. Annales de
Bretagne et des Pays de l’Ouest, 127 (4, 2020), 97–122.
L’église médiévale de Saint-Julien-de-Vouvantes. Thibault Lehuédé.
Annales de Bretagne et des Pays de l’Ouest, 127 (4, 2020), 53–94.
Du corporal à la pale: un nouvel objet sur l’autel au Moyen Âge tardif. Julie
Glodt. Revue d’histoire de l’Église de France, 105 (July–Dec, 2019),
273–99.
Retour sur le “népotisme”: les nominations de cardinaux au XVe siècle.
Pierre–Bénigne Dufouleur. Mélanges de l’Ecole française de Rome,
Moyen Âge, 132 (1, 2020), 169–96.
Feasts of Irish and Scottish Saints in Hermann Greven’s Martyrology and
Devotionale. A Review of the Evidence. Pádraig Ó Riain. Analecta
Bollandiana, 138 (Dec., 2020), 368–81.

SIXTEENTH CENTURY
Entre la tiare et le turban: les relations entre le clergé grec orthodoxe et
Rome dans le contexte de la domination ottomane (XVIe–XVIIe
siecles). Alexandra Laliberté de Gagné. Mélanges de l’Ecole française de
Rome, Moyen Âge, 132 (1, 2020), 273–83.
I Ratti di santa Caterina de’ Ricci nell’archivio delle Domenicane di San
Vincenzo di Prato. Chiara Vasciaveo. Vivens Homo, 30 (July–Dec.,
2019), 379–97.
The Bible Abbreviated: Summaries in Early Modern English Bibles. Ezra
Horbury. Harvard Theological Review, 112 (Apr., 2019), 235–60.
La salvezza degli Stati: atei, streghe, infedeli ed eretici nel pensiero di
Bodin. Michaela Valente. Bibliothèque d’Humanisme et Renaissance, 81
(2, 2019), 291–308.
La decorazione di fine Cinquecento presso Palazzo Farrattini ora Propaganda Fide. Ilaria Arcangeli. Urbaniana University Journal, 73 (3,
2020), 241–55 with 26 plates.
Las cinco Custodias de la Sagrada Forma del Escorial y sus vicisitudes históricas. José Rodríguez Díez. La Ciudad de Dios, 232 (Sept.–Dec.,
2019), 569–98.

452

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

L’alleanza tra congregazione dell’Oratorio ed Enrico IV di Borbone. La
testimonianza inedita dell’abate Jean Du Bois. Gennaro Cassiani.
Rivista di Storia e Letteratura Religiosa, 55 (2, 2019), 333–60.
La lecture des curés français (fin du XVIe–fin du XVIIIe siècle): de l’idéal à
la réalité. Philippe Martin. Revue d’histoire de l’Église de France, 105
(July–Dec, 2019), 301–19.

SEVENTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES
Saggio sulla forma di vita clariana nel Monastero di Graz (1602–1782).
Paul Zahner. Antonianum, 95 (Sept., 2020), 649–65.
La vita quotidiana dei cappuccini nell’Africa Congo–angolana del Seicento. Esperienze missionarie francescane. Laurentianum, 59 (1–2,
2018), 49–78.
A Female Mystic and Educator in the Medici Grand Duchy: Hagiography
of the Venerable Leonora Ramirez de Montalvo (1602–1659) from
medieval to modern topoi. Mattia Zangari. Rivista di Storia e Letteratura Religiosa, 55 (2, 2019), 229–64.
A Visual Documentation of Fil–Hispanic Churches Part XXIV: The
Church of Santa Ana, Buguey, Cagayan. Regalado Trota José. Philippiniana Sacra, LV (May–Aug., 2020), 307–56.
A Visual Documentation of Fil–Hispanic Churches Part XXV: The
Church of Santa Catalina de Alejandria, Gattaran, Cagayan. Regalado
Trota José. Philippiniana Sacra, LV (Sept.–Dec., 2020), 499–532.
Labbé de Rancé et l’office divin. Claire–Geneviève de Sainte Victor.
Collectanea Cisterciensia, 82 (4, 2020), 365–92.
An Annotated Transcription of Compendio Historial (1690), by Juan
Peguero, O.P. (Part 2). Jorge Mojarro. Philippiniana Sacra, LV (May–
Aug., 2020), 357–84.
An Annotated Transcription of Compendio Historial (1690), by Juan
Peguero, O.P. (Part 3). Jorge Mojarro. Philippiniana Sacra, LV
(Sept.–Dec., 2020), 533–56.
Matrimonio cattolico e concubinato in Cina; la voce di un mandarino convertito nel XVII secolo. Rui Zhang. Antonianum, 95 (Sept., 2020),
621–38.
Revising the Supernatural: Prospero Lambertini’s Reconsideration of the
Concept of Miracle. Alessandro Laverda. Church History, 90 (Mar.,
2021), 45–67.

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

453

L’incendio della basilica di S. Antonio nelle narrazioni inedite di testimoni
oculari (Padova, 29 marzo 1749). Antonino Poppi. Il Santo, 59 (3,
2019), 451–69.
The Church of England and the Coronation Right, 1761–1838. Nicholas
Dixon. Church History, 90 (Mar., 2021), 98–116.
“Angefangene Kirchenverbesserung”. Zur Reformationsdeutung in der
Christentumstheorie des Aufklärungstheologen Gotthilf Samuel
Steinbart. Marco Stallmann. Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche, 116
(Dec., 2019), 402–31.
La lente dissolution de la bibliothèque grecque du cardinal Salviati. Une
affaire de soldats, gentilshommes, papes, bibliophiles et pirates. Don
Giacomo Cardinali. Journal des Savants (July–Dec., 2020), 429–92.
Les Martyrs de Casamari 13–16 mai 1799. Pierdomenico M. Volpi. Collectanea Cisterciensia, 82 (4, 2020), 393–409.

NINETEENTH AND TWENTIETH CENTURIES
(EASTERN HEMISPHERE)
Catholicisme et défense de la discipline quadragésimale à l’âge libéral.
Sylvio De Franceschi. Rivista di Storia e Letteratura Religiosa, 55 (2,
2019), 303–30.
Hippo Regius—Bûna—Bône. Ein Erinnerungsort im Spiegel der kolonialzeitlichen Augustinusrezeption. Stefan Ardeleanu. Römische Quartalschrift, 115 (1–2, 2020), 29–56.
Charles de Montalembert et Victor de Buck. Bernard Joassart. Analecta
Bollandiana, 139 (June, 2021), 156–91.
Zwischen Kronen und Nationen: Die zentraleuropäischen katholischen
Priesterkollegien in Rom zwischen Risorgimento und Zweitem Weltkrieg. Tamara Scheer. Römische Quartalschrift, 115 (3–4, 2020), 159–
71.
Das Pontificium Collegium Germanicum et Hungaricum zwischen internationalem Anspruch und nationalen Interessen im 19.20. Jahrhundert.
Markus Pillat. Römische Quartalschrift, 115 (3–4, 2020), 172–182.
Das Mutterhaus der Salvatorianer in Rom—Internationalität versus deutsches Regulativ. Stefan Samerski. Römische Quartalschrift, 115 (3–4,
2020), 183–92.
Der Kirchenhistoriker Joseph Wittig und Rom 1904/06. Manfred Spata.
Römische Quartalschrift, 115 (1–2, 2020), 137–55.

454

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

“Aber durch die gemeinsame einheitliche Kommandosprache wurde noch
kein Mann entnationalisiert. . .” Rok Stergar. Römische Quartalschrift,
115 (3–4, 2020), 217–33.
Buonaiuti, La Piana, De Stefano. Carteggi tra modernisti per una teologia
della storia [III]. Salvatore Corso. Laurentianum, 59 (1–2, 2018), 79–
299.
Alexander Frison (1875–1937), ein russlanddeutscher Germaniker unter
Stalin. Katrin Boeckh. Römische Quartalschrift, 115 (3–4, 2020), 202–
16.
“Le Plus Anti Allemand des Prélats de Toulouse.” Mgr Bruno de Solages
dans les Archives de la Sicherheitspolizei-Sicherheitsdienst (SIPO–
S.D.). Michał Wenklar. Bulletin de Littérature Ecclésiastique, 486
(Apr.–June, 2021), 75–87.
Memorie autobiografiche patavine del professor Lorenzo Cima. I rapporti
con il padre Stanislao Sgarbossa ofmconv: un cappellano sul crinale
antifascismo-anticomunismo (1943–1948). Il Santo, 59 (3, 2019),
471–503.
“Nous avions un saint parmi nous, et ne nous en étions pas rendus compte”:
vie et mort de l’abbé Louis Jacquat en Thuringe dans les derniers mois
de la seconde guerre mondiale. Christine Herzog. Revue d’histoire de
l’Église de France, 105 (July–Dec, 2019), 331–51.
“The Limits of Human Jurisdiction”: Protestantism, War Crimes Trials,
and Human Rights in Occupied Germany. Brandon Bloch. Journal of
Modern History, 93 (June, 2021), 363–400
Der slowenische Priester Lambert Ehrlich: Wanderer zwischen den
Welten. Marija Wakounig. Römische Quartalschrift, 115 (3–4, 2020),
193–201.
Die Berufung Josef Höfers zum geistlichen Botschaftsrat der deutschen
Botschaft beim Heiligen Stuhl (1951–1954). Dominik Burkhard.
Römische Quartalschrift, 115 (3–4, 2020), 268–96.
Johann Adam Möhler negli studi teologici del secondo Novecento. Principali linee di interpretazione. Luca Ferracci. Cristianesimo nella storia,
42 (1, 2021), 87–128.

Other Books Received
Blum, Daniela. Multikonfessionalität im Alltag: Speyer zwischen politischem
Frieden und Bekenntnisernst (1 5 5 5 ‒ 1 6 1 8 ). [Reformationsgeschichtliche Studien und Tarte, Brad 162.] (Münster: Aschendorff Verlag.
2015. Pp. x, 374. €56.00).
Bouley, Bradford A. Pious Postmortems: Anatomy, Sanctity, and the Catholic
Church in Early Modern Europe. (Philadelphia, PA: University of
Pennsylvania Press. 2017. Pp. vii, 214. $59.95).
Brejon de Lavergnée, Matthieu. The Streets as a Cloister: History of the
Daughters of Charity. (Hyde Park, NY: New York City Press. 2020.
Pp. 504. $79.00).
Brekus. Catherine A. Sarah Osborn’s Collected Writings. (New Haven, CT:
Yale University Press. 2017. Pp. xli. 337. $40.00).
Catto, Michela, and Claudio Ferlan. I gesuiti e i papi. (Bologna: Società
editrice il Mulino. 2016. Pp. 223. €20.00).
Cherry, Haydon. Down and Out in Saigon: Stories of the Poor in a Colonial
City. (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. 2019. Pp. xviii, 280.
$50.00).
Christensen, Mark Z. The Teabo Manuscript: Maya Christian Copybooks,
Chilam Balams, and Native Text Production in Yucatán. (Austin:
University of Texas Press. 2016. Pp. xvii, 321. $55.00).
Cohick, Lynn H., and Amy Brown Hughes. Christian Women in the
Patristic World: Their Influence, Authority, and Legacy in the Second
through Fifth Centuries. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic. 2017.
Pp. xxxviii, 292. $35.00 paperback).
Cole, Zachary J. Numerals in Early Greek New Testament Manuscripts:
Text-Critical, Scribal, and Theological Studies. (Leiden: Brill. 2017. Pp.
xiii, 269. $25.00).
Crowe, Brandon D. The Last Adam: A Theology of the Obedient Life of Jesus
in the Gospels. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic. 2017. Pp. xvii,
264. $32.00 paperback).
Curran, Robert Emmett (Ed.). Intestine Enemies: Catholics in Protestant
America, 1605‒1791: A Documentary History. (Washington, DC: The
455

456

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED
Catholic University of America Press. 2017. Pp. xxix, 289. $34.95
paperback).

Curtis, Finbarr. The Production of American Religious Freedom. (New York:
New York University Press. 2016. Pp. x, 169. $28.00 paperback).
De Palma, Luigi Michele. Studiare teologia a Roma: Origini e sviluppi della
Pontificia Accademia Teologica. [Itineraria, 12.] (Vatican City: Libreria
Editrice Vaticana. 2017. Pp. 415. €29,00).
Enzler, Clarence J. My Other Self: Conversations with Christ on Living Your
Faith. (Notre Dame, IN: Christian Classics. 2011. Pp. xx, 232. $13.95
paperback).
Espinosa, Gastón. Latino Pentecostals in America: Faith and Politics in
Action. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. 2014. Pp. xiii,
418. $30.00).
Fragnito, Gigliola, and Alain Tallon (Eds.). Hétérodoxies croisées: Catholicismes pluriels entre France et Italie, XVIe-XVIIe siècles. (Rome: École
française de Rome. 2017. Pp. 514. €27,00 paperback).
García Hernán, Enrique, José Cutillas Ferrer, and Rudi Matthee (Eds).
The Spanish Monarchy and Safavid Persia in the Early Modern Period:
Politics, War, and Religion. (Valencia, Spain: Albatros Ediciones. 2016.
Pp. 247. €30.00).
Gauvreau, Michael. The Hand of God: Claude Ryan and the Fate of Canadian
Liberalism, 1925-1971. (Montreal and KIngston: McGill-Queen’s
University Press. 2017. Pp. xiv, 678. $44.95).
Greyerz, Kaspar Von, Silvana Seidel Menchi, and Martin Wallra
Basel 1516: Erasmus’ Edition of the New Testament. (Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck. 2017. Pp. xix, 310. €49.00).
Gonzalez, Johnhenry. Maroon Nation: A History of Revolutionary Haiti.
(New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. 2019. Pp. xii, 302. $40.00.)
Hogan, Edmund M. The Turning of a Tide: Ignace Lissner and the Society of
African Missions in the U.S.A. (Rome: SMA Publications. 2016. Pp.
vii, 319).
Hollinger, David A. Protestants Abroad: How Missionaries Tried to Change
the World but Changed America. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University
Press. 2017. Pp. xv, 390. $35.00).
Howard, Thomas Albert. The Pope and the Professor: Pius IX, Ignaz von
Dollinger, and the Quandary of the Modern Age. (Oxford, UK: Oxford
University Press. 2017. Pp. xvii, 339. $53.00).

OTHER B OOKS RECEIVED

457

Howard, Thomas Albert. Remembering the Reformation: An Inquiry into the
Meanings of Protestantism. (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.
2016. Pp. xiii, 189. $25.95 paperback).
Janet, Richard J. In Missouri’s Wilds: St. Mary’s of the Barrens and the
American Catholic Church, 1818 to 2016. (Kirksville, MO: Truman
State University Press. 2017. Pp. xi. 276).
Johnson, Anna Marie. Beyond Indulgences: Luther’s Reform of Late Medieval
Piety, 1518–1520. [Early Modern Studies, Vol. 21.] (Kirksville, MO:
Truman State University Press. 2017. Pp. xii, 225).
Kengor, Paul. A Pope and a President: John Paul II, Ronald Reagan, and the
Extraordinary Untold Story of the 20th Century. (Wilmington, DE: ISI
Books. 2017. Pp. x, 637. $29.95.)
Kreider, Alan. The Patient Ferment of the Early Church: The Improbable Rise
of Christianity in the Roman Empire. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker
Academic. 2016. Pp. xiii, 296. $29.99 paperback.)
Lapomarda, Vincent A. Anthony F. Ciampi (1816‒1893): The Jesuit Who
Saved the College of the Holy Cross. (Worcester, MA., 2017. Pp. xiv, 181).
Martínez Ferrer, Luis. Tercer Concilio Limense (1583‒1591): Edición
bilingüe de los decretos. (Lima: Facultad de Teología Pontificia y Civil
de Lima. 2017. Pp. 339.)
Miller, R.W.H. Dr Ashley’s Pleasure Yacht: John Ashley, the Bristol Channel
Mission and all that Followed. (Cambridge, UK: The Lutterworth
Press. 2017. Pp. xvi, 134. £20.00).
O’Neill, Michael (Ed.). Episcopal Visitations of the Diocese of Meath,
1622‒1799. (Dublin: Four Courts Press. 2017. Pp. 383. €49.50).
Pelletier, Kevin. Apocalyptic Sentimentalism: Love and Fear in U.S.
Antebellum Literature. (Athens, GA: Georgia University Press. 2018.
Pp. xii, 192. $26.95 paperback.)
Pennington, Jonathan T. The Sermon on the Mount and Human Flourishing:
A Theological Commentary. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic.
2017. Pp. xx, 326. $32.99 paperback.)
Peterson, Mark. The City-State of Boston: The Rise and Fall of an Atlantic
Power, 1630–1865. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. 2019.
Pp. xviii, 832. $39.95.)
Petro, Anthony M. After the Wrath of God: AIDS, Sexuality, & American
Religion. (New York: Oxford University Press. 2015. Pp. x. 197.
$33.95.)

458

OTHER BOOKS RECEIVED

Rademacher, Nicholas K. Paul Hanly Furfey: Priest, Scientist, Social
Reformer. (New York: Fordham University Press. 2017. Pp. xi, 341.
$35.00 paperback.)
Rehberg, Andreas (Ed.). Ablasskampagnen des Spätmittelalters: Luthers
Thesen von 1517 im Kontext. [Bibliothek des Destschen Historischen
& Instituts in Rom, Band 132.] (Berlin: De Gruyter. 2017. Pp. xvii.
684. $154.99).
Ru

The Battle for the Catholic Past in Germany, 1945–
1980. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2017. Pp. xvi, 394.
$49.99).

Schjørring, Jens Holger, and Norman A. Hjelm (Eds.). History of Global
Christianity, Volume II: History of Christianity in the 19th Century.
(Boston, MA: Brill. 2018. Pp. xii. 346.).
Shea, C. Michael. Newman’s Early Roman Catholic Legacy, 1845-1854.
(New York: Oxford University Press. 2017. Pp. xiv, 230. $90.00).
Stahl, Ronit Y. Enlisting Faith: How the Military Chaplaincy Shaped
Religion and State in Modern America. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press. 2017. Pp. x, 348. $43.50).
Verrier, Philippe. Victor Dillard, SJ: Spiritual Resister and Apostle to the STO
Slave Laborers in Germany, Martyred at Dachau. Trans. Theodore P.
Fraser (Milwaukee, WI: Marquette University Press. 2017. Pp. 212.
$24.00 paperback).
Wallace, Carey. Stories of the Saints: Bold and Inspiring Tales of Adventure,
Grace, and Courage. (New York, NY: Workman Publishing. 2019. Pp.
ix, 217.$24.95 hardcover.)
Williams, Leslie. Emblem of Faith Untouched: A Short Life of Thomas
Cranmer. (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing
Company. 2016. Pp. viii, 200. $18.00 paperback).
Young, Francis. A History of Exorcism in Catholic Christianity. (London:
Palgrave Macmillan. 2016. Pp. xiii, 275. $37.99).