Abstract: Published between 1762 and 1765, these writings are the last works Rousseau wrote for publication during his lifetime. Responding in each to the censorship and burning of Emile and Social Contract, Rousseau airs his views on censorship, religion, and the relation between theory and practice in politics. The Letter to Beaumont is a response to a Pastoral Letter by Christophe de Beaumont, Archbishop of Paris (also included in this volume), which attacks the religious teaching in Emile. Rousseau's response concerns the general theme of the relation between reason and revelation and contains his most explicit and boldest discussions of the Christian doctrines of creation, miracles, and original sin. In Letters Written from the Mountain, a response to the political crisis in Rousseau's homeland of Geneva caused by a dispute over the burning of his works, Rousseau extends his discussion of Christianity and shows how the political principles of the Social Contract can be applied to a concrete constitutional crisis. One of his most important statements on the relation between political philosophy and political practice, it is accompanied by a fragmentary"History of the Government of Geneva." Finally,"Vision of Peter of the Mountain, Called the Seer" is a humorous response to a resident of Motiers who had been inciting attacks on Rousseau during his exile there. Taking the form of a scriptural account of a vision, it is one of the rare examples of satire from Rousseau's pen and the only work he published anonymously after his decision in the early 1750s to put his name on all his published works. Within its satirical form, the "Vision" contains Rousseau's last public reflections on religious issues. Neither the Letter to Beaumont nor the Letters Written from the Mountain has been translated into English since defective translations that appeared shortly after their appearance in French. These are the first translations of both the "History" and the "Vision."

Abstract: The nationwide campaign to erect railed altars in the 1630s has always been seen as a central feature of the Laudian reformation of the Church. Recently some scholars have denied its close association with Laud and Arminian sacramentalism, and have proposed that the policy originated with Charles I, to be reluctantly endorsed by his archbishop. As for its enforcement, Julian Davies has identified at least five variants which were implemented in the dioceses. This article argues instead that Archbishops Neile and Laud were centrally involved in the introduction of the railed altar, and that they oversaw the imposition of a single altar policy, with only Williams of Lincoln briefly championing a variation on it. Differences did emerge, however, over where communicants should receive, since this had not been prescribed by authority. Charles I, on this reading, was not the driving force for change, although he clearly came to support it.

Abstract: Preface. Abbreviations and short titles. PART THREE - THE STRUGGLES OF SCHOLARS IN THE SCHOOLS. Introduction. 1 Rupert of Deutz: A Voice of the Past. I The Two Worlds in Western Europe. II Rupert's Life, Work, and World. III Rupert's Conflicts with the Schools. IV The Final Grandeur of Events. V Ceremonies and Symbols versus Definitions and System. 2 Master Anselm of Laon: The Master of Future Masters. I The Grounds of His Scholastic Fame. II The Master, the City, and the School. III The Development of His Teaching. IV Master Anselm's Contribution to the Study of the Bible: The Origin of the Glossa Ordinaria. V The Completion of the Glossa by Master Anselm's Successors. 3 Master Anselm and the Origins of Systematic Theology. I The Scholastic Routine: From Glosses to sententiae. II A Student's Collection of sententiae. III Master Anselm's Questions and Answers. IV The Bridge Between the Monastic Past. and the Scholastic Future. V Summing Up. 4 Stumbling Towards System, c. 1100-1160. I From sentences to System. II Early Collections of sententiae. III The Years Between 1130 and 1160. 5 Hugh of St. Victor: A Systematic Genius Before His Time. I His Origin and Scholarly Beginnings. II Towards a Systematic World-View. III Master Hugh in His Classroom. IV Hugh's Projected Lectures on God in Human History. V Hugh's Ambiguous Position in Scholastic Development. 6 Scholars at the Frontiers of Knowledge: William of Conches and Thierry of Chartres. I William of Conches. II Thierry of Chartres. III Conclusion. 7 Abelard at the Frontier of Logic and Theology. I Introduction. II Abelard's New Beginning. III Logic and the Holy Trinity. IV An Unexpected Source of Opposition (Walter of Mortagne). V The Enlargement of Theology. 8 The Decisive Battles of the 1140s. I The Road to Conflict. II The First. Battle: St. Bernard and Abelard. III The Background to the First. Battle: William of St. Thierry and St. Bernard. IV The Second Battle: St. Bernard and Gilbert De La Porree. V The Significance of 1148. 9 Peter Lombard: the Great Achiever. I Introduction. II The Continuing Problem of Organization. III Peter Lombard Comes to Paris. IV Peter Lombard's Patron: Odo (Or Otto), Bishop of Lucca. V Peter Lombard's Career and Work in Paris, c. 1138-1160. VI A Comparison Between His Work and That of Bishop Odo of Lucca. VII Summing-Up. PART FOUR - THE STRUGGLE OF THE SCHOLARS IN THE WORLD. Introduction. 10 Master Vacarius: A Roman Lawyer in English Government, c. 1145 to c. 1200. I The Legend and the Reality. II Why, and When, Did Archbishop Theobald Bring Vacarius to England? III The Liber pauperum. IV Vacarius in the Archiepiscopal Province of York. V Vacarius' Later Writings. 11 John of Salisbury: A Scholar at Large in Government. I The End of His School-Years. II His Transference to the World of Government. 12 The Two Peters of Blois in the Schools and in Government. I Introduction. II Their Relationship and Personalities. III The Two Peters of Blois in the Schools, c. 1140-1165. IV The Younger Peter's Search for Employment, 1165-1174. V Stability then Uncertainty for the Younger Peter. VI Peter and the Third Crusade. VII Peter in the Service of Baldwin, Archbishop of Canterbury, 1184-1190. VIII Peter and the Call for a Crusade. IX Peter Writes a Last Letter to His Namesake. X The Two Peters of Blois as Poets. XI The Letters and the World of Peter's Old Age. XII Epilogue: The Letter-Collection Marches On. Index.

Abstract: This article examines the circumstances of the death of Cardinal Guillaume d'Estouteville (d. 1483) and his plans for burial in his Roman church of Sant'Agostino and in the Cathedral of Rouen of which he was archbishop. I argue that the cardinal planned for his body to be interred near the high altar of Sant'Agostino, in a monument since lost, while his heart was to be taken to Rouen and buried in the crossing of the cathedral. By means of an analysis of burial practices in Italy and France, I propose that d'Estouteville's designs anticipated such grandiose sixteenth-century projects as those of Julius II (d. 1513) and Cardinal Georges d'Amboise (d. 1510).

Abstract: Henry Mayr-Harting at Liverpool Teaching with Henry Mayr-Harting Principal Publications of Henry Mayr-Harting to 2000 1. Angels, Monks, and Demons in the Early Medieval West 2. Gregory the Great's Pagans 3. The Annotations in Oxford, Bodleian Library, Auct. D. II. 14 4. Why Did Eadfrith Write the Lindisfarne Gospels? 5. Virgin Queens: Abbesses and Power in Early Anglo-Saxon England 6. Duke Tassilo of Bavaria and the Origins of the Rupertus Cross 7. The Voice of Charlemagne 8. True Teachers and Pious Kings: Salzburg, Louis of Bavaria, and Christian Order 9. No Bishop, No King: The Ministerial Ideology of Kingship and Asser's Res Gestae Aelfredi 10. The Strange Affair of the Selsey Bishopric, 953-963 11. The Church of Worcester and St Oswald 12. Unity, Order, and Ottonian Kingship in the Thought of Abbo of Fleury 13. An Ottonian Sacramentary in Oxford 14. Events that Led to Sainthood: Sanctity and Reformers in the Eleventh Century 15. Pastorale pedum ante pedes apostolici posuit: Disinvestiture and Reinvestiture in the Era of the Investiture Contest 16. The Religious Patronage of Robert and William of Mortain 17. Ranulf Flambard and Christina of Markyate 18. Functions of a Twelfth-Century Recluse Revisited: The Case of Godric of Finchale 19. Robert of Lewes, Bishop of Bath 1136-1166: A Cluniac Bishop in his Diocese 20. King Henry II and the Monks of Battle: The Battle Chronicle Unmasked 21. The Letter-Writing of Archbishop Becket 22. Thomas Becket: Martyr, Saint - and Friend? 23. Two Concepts of Temptations 24. Peter of Poitiers's Compendium in Genealogia Christi: The Early English Copies 25. The Saint and the Operation of the Law: Reflections upon the Miracles of St Thomas Cantilupe Index of Manuscripts General Index

Abstract: At the funeral service for Archbishop James Hubert Blenk of New Orleans in 1917, Bishop John Edward Gunn of Natchez painted a grim picture of the state of Catholicism in this Latin city of the South: If anyone imagines the position of Archbishop of New Orleans to be a sinecure, let him explain why it is a proverb here that no Archbishop can survive ten years work .... Is it the worry? Is it the want of responsiveness? Is it the consciousness that in spite of a devoted clergy, of efficient educational advantages, the old Voltairianism still lingers...? Blenk, a native of Bavaria, Germany, had been Archbishop of New Orleans since 1905. In his funeral speech, Gunn had undoubtedly referred to Blenk's frustrated attempts to improve the standing of the Catholic Church in his diocese. These efforts had been beset by opposition and outright antagonism from both clergy and laity alike. Much to Blenk's humiliation, the Catholic population failed to respond to his appeals for a major seminary for New Orleans. His campaign to restore the crumbling St. Louis Cathedral also came to nothing. These constant setbacks may well have contributed to Blenk's untimely death from a heart attack in 1917 at the age of 61.1 Gunn was not the only contemporary observer who noted the widespread religious indifference of so much of the Catholic population of New Orleans. In 1916, in an unpublished manuscript entitled, "Our Native Clergy," the Reverend Leo Gassler, the Swiss vicar general of the diocese, posed the question,"Is Catholic Louisiana backwards in matters religious?" Gassler argued that the Church in Louisiana was somehow less American than the Catholic Church elsewhere. Writing in 1916, two years after World War I had cut off the European supply of priests to the city, he lamented the inability of the diocese to produce its own native clergy. Gassler also noted that his clerical colleagues in the North often spoke disparagingly about Louisiana Catholicism. The Swiss prelate fully accepted their criticism and by way of explanation referred to the grim legacy of the French colonial heritage that still manifested itself. Under French rule the colonists had never provided for the Church, which had always relied on state and aristocratic philanthropy. In the Northern cities Gassler noted that "persecution from without" had stimulated the Church.' Interestingly, Gassler pointed to the lack of immigrants as a major reason for the backward state of Catholicism in his diocese. However, this view of New Orleans history needs to be questioned. New Orleans was hardly devoid of Catholic immigrants in its history. Indeed, during the four decades before the Civil War, it had drawn more immigrants through its port than any North American city except for New York. True, this immigration flow slowed dramatically from 1860 to 1880, but thereafter significant new immigration from Sicily, South America, and the Philippines added to the ranks of foreign-born Catholics in New Orleans. Clearly, what preoccupied Gassler was not so much the number of immigrants in New Orleans but their failure to have any great impact on the character of Catholicism in the city. This view of immigrant church relations seems paradoxical. One might assume that immigrants would hinder rather than enhance the development of an American Catholic Church. Yet, when one studies the history of American Catholicism on a national level, one cannot ignore the vital role played by immigrants, above all Irish immigrants, in transforming the Catholic Church in the United States into an American institution. But Gassler was correct: New Orleans was an anomaly. Somehow its nineteenth-century immigrants failed to seize control and transform the Catholic Church in New Orleans. Despite a heavy influx of Irish into the city in the mid-nineteenth century, they proved unable to push aside the French and Creole leaders of New Orleans Catholicism, in marked contrast to their victories elsewhere in the United States. …

Abstract: In 1577 a survey of Catholics was taken by the Archbishop of York and the Queen’s commissioners. It recorded the name, place of residence, status and worth of those who refused to conform. Dorothy Vavasour of York was noted in these records as being ‘worth nothing, but very wilful’. It is this statement that provides the inspiration for an examination of the women of Yorkshire, as a group that were vital to the survival of Catholicism, yet who are often ignored.

Abstract: Robert P. Geraci and Michael Khodarovsky, eds. Of Religion and Empire. Missions, Conversion, and Tolerance in Tsarist Russia. Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 2001. vi, 356 pp. Map, Index. $49.95, cloth; $21.95, paper. As the editors of this interesting collection note, historians have largely neglected the religious diversity of the Russian Empire. That diversity was immense, and the essays in this volume touch on only a few of the faiths and sects with which the Tsars' subjects identified. The aim of the authors is to reconnoitre the terrain of religious identities in imperial Russia rather than to form firm conclusions. They variously explore the attitudes to human identity in Russia and the place of religious ideologies in social integration, measure the success of Orthodox conversion efforts, assess the ways in which various groups experienced incorporation into the empire, and examine how religious diversity shaped Orthodoxy and Russian-ness. Wide-- ranging as they are, the essays collectively succeed in delineating the major issues related to religious diversity and identity in the empire of the tsars. George Michels looks at the campaign of Archbishop Afanasii of Kholmogory against the Old Belief in his northern see. Afanasii took little interest in converting natives but ruthlessly punished those who flirted with the Old Believers. He realized that the weaknesses of Orthodoxy were in part responsible for Old Believer successes and sought to strengthen the administration of the Church and to increase its physical presence among parishioners. Eugene Clay argues that the progressive rationalization and institutionalization of Orthodox theology left room within the Church by the second half the nineteenth century for various pietistic heresies that found truth in direct spiritual experience and not in rational discourse. The clergy were poorly prepared by their training to cope with this spiritual challenge. Clay notes that the Church largely failed to build on the popular piety that animated village life. Theodore Weeks finds that the forced "reunions" of Uniates with Orthodoxy of 1839 and 1875 were the result not of an overreaching plan on the part of central authorities but, rather, of largely local initiative. He notes that the Uniate "converts" to Orthodoxy returned to the Uniate Church en masse when the opportunity arose in 1905. John Klier similarly concludes that the Russian state had no "continuous, consistent policy of conversion directed at the Jews" (p. 93). On the contrary, both Church and state were highly suspicious about the sincerity of Jewish converts, who gained civil benefits in return for conversion. In any event, few Jews converted. Later in the collection, Firouzeh Mostashari sees little consistency in Russian religious policy in the Caucasus. Benign neglect alternated with conversion campaigns and both gave way to failed attempts to impose bureaucratic controls over Muslim clerics. Michael Khodarovsky fills out the picture of the efforts of the Church to convert non-Christians up to 1800. Most converts were pagans and their conversions were mostly nominal. Two of the more interesting essays are by Paul Werth and Agnes Kefeli. …

Abstract: As with the push for the evangelization of African-Americans, and the subsequent efforts to ordain priests from within the same community for service within the United States, to a great extent, both the initiative and the sustaining momentum for an ecclesial pan-American movement intended to aid the Church in Latin America during the Cold War era came from the Holy See.1 The first inter-American Episcopal Conference, held at Georgetown University, Washington, D.C., November 2-- 4, 1959, consisting of representatives of the collegial bodies of the Latin American, United States, and Canadian hierarchies,2 was convoked by the Holy See in order "to broaden the concept of collaboration in solving the problems of South America, transforming it from a Latin American effort ... [to] build a Pan-American collaboration."3 This gathering was the culmination of a series of papal initiatives that sought to establish a greater degree of co-operation between the churches in North and South America. The Holy See at that time had enormous confidence in the ability of the Church in the United States and in Canada to respond to the principal Cold War-related crises that it had identified in Latin America-the advance of Communism and the spread of Protestantism. These North American churches were judged at the time as being especially capable of providing the necessary personnel and material aid to stem the advancing tide of both movements.4 During the Washington meetings, bishops from each of the regions expressed their views with regard to the situation and presented proposals for action. Their deliberations provide an opportunity to examine the broad variety of expectations and attitudes in the postwar era within the various national churches represented and the Holy See. This variety made effective long-term collaboration difficult, despite the appearance to many observers of a more monolithic ecclesial unity in the 1950's. The often contrasting perspectives observed at this conference help to explain the more radical and public divisions within the Church in America (North and South) of the following generation. Cardinal Richard J. Cushing, Archbishop of Boston and founder of the Missionary Society of St. James the Apostle, whose purpose it was to send English-speaking diocesan priests for periods of missionary service to Latin America, presided over the meetings, and Archbishop Antonio Samore, Secretary of the newly-created Pontifical Commission for Latin America,5 was in attendance. In addition, there were twenty other bishops present, including the apostolic delegates to Canada (Sebastiano Baggio) and the United States (Egidio Vagnozzi), and eighteen prelates from the United States, Canada, and all of South America (six from each of the three regions).6 The purpose of the meeting, as understood by the Holy See and its representatives, was much broader than that initially envisioned by the majority of the United States bishops. Rather than yet another appeal for financial support of a particular project or local effort within Latin America, to which the United States bishops had become accustomed over the years, this meeting had as its goal the mobilization and coordination of efforts from Canada and the United States for the strengthening of the Church in Latin America.7 The extent of the change and unprecedented levels of co-operation that were expected by the Holy See became apparent to some of the United States bishops only gradually. In a letter of March 6,1959, to Monsignor Paul F. Tanner, the General Secretary of the National Catholic Welfare Conference (NCWC) at the time, the Archbishop of Philadelphia, Cardinal John O'Hara, wrote that these initiatives of the Holy See "seem to imply a program for the American Bishops that goes far beyond anything we had contemplated."8 On the other hand, for well over a year the bishops of the Episcopal Council of Latin America (CELAM), led by its General Secretary, Dom Helder Pess6a CAmara of Brazil, had been requesting such a meeting with representatives of the NCWC, without much favorable response. …

Abstract: On Sunday, October 23, 1983, a notable event occurred in San Francisco. A celebration of music, word, and prayer commemorated the Žve-hundredth birthday of the great Protestant reformer, Martin Luther. Leaders of the Episcopal, Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian, Congregational, and Lutheran traditions took part in the service. Representatives of many other denominations marched in the processional singing “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.” Choral settings from the Greek Orthodox service framed the liturgy. Most remarkable, the Roman Catholic archbishop of San Francisco opened the ceremony, and the event took place in St. Mary’s Cathedral. Reformation-rooted Protestant Christianity thus was recognized by a broad panorama of world Christian traditions that had lived side by side for well over a century in the strongly Catholic City of Saint Francis by the Golden Gate. St. Mary’s Cathedral had burned in 1961. Ground breaking for construction took place in 1965, and the new cathedral was completed in 1970. It was the Žrst Roman Catholic cathedral in the world built according to the precepts of the Second Vatican Council. New in many ways, including ultramodern architecture, the old tradition remained intact with a brick oor in the sanctuary representing the Spanish mission heritage of early California. The 1983 ecumenical celebration in one of California’s historic sacred spaces called attention to the state’s rich and distinctive religious heritage that only recently had begun to appear in American religious historiography. Even at the end of the 1960’s, the guild of American religious historians seemed not to have yet discovered California, or the whole PaciŽc region for that matter. Sydney Ahlstrom’s foundational A Religious History of the American People, published in 1972, for example, took little note of California beyond the Spanish Mission period. But California’s religious invisibility was about to end—slowly, but surely; and, as this happened, a new perspective for

Abstract: The Vestiarian Controversy of 1564–6, during which Archbishop Matthew Parker pressed for full conformity to the provisions of the 1559 Book of Common Prayer, is generally taken to mark a watershed in the fortunes of the English Protestant tradition. This study seeks to show that the realities of Elizabethan churchmanship in the 1560s and 1570s were rather more complex. By reference to the career of Thomas Cole, former ‘freewiller’ and returned Marian exile, who was appointed archdeacon of Essex by Edmund Grindal and was Parker's own commissary in Essex and Suffolk as dean of Bocking, it hopes to demonstrate that Parker's efforts at a national campaign for uniformity were inevitably doomed to failure because of pressures both political and jurisdictional. Cole and his allies did not consider the battle lost in 1566; it was the Presbyterian campaign of the 1570s and 1580s, which Parker's efforts helped to provoke, that marked the real turning point in the government's relations with senior churchmen who wished to see the Elizabethan Settlement advanced by means of further parliamentary legislation.

Abstract: Who are today's martyrs? Many Salvadorans call Archbishop Romero and the Jesuits and the two women killed at Central American University martyrs. Should they be numbered among the martyrs of the church? The author contends that it would be fitting for the Catholic Church to do so, based on the contemporary church teaching on martyrdom. Tracing the origin and development of the notion of Christian martyrdom from the New Testament to the present day, the author shows how Thomas Aquinas, the Second Vatican Council, Karl Rahner, and Pope John Paul II have contributed to the enlargement of the concept of the Christian martyr that fittingly describes the Salvadoran witnesses. Moved by love of God and neighbor, the martyr courageously endures death for bearing witness to the Christian faith that includes speaking the truth and doing justice.

Abstract: Until the later thirteenth century the prelates of the Church of Castile-Leon had not found it necessary to protect their traditional liberties by regularly holding provincial and diocesan councils1 but instead relied on their prerogative to demand the redress of their grievances in the cortes or parliament. As long as the crown respected this right, the Castilian clergy were willing to tolerate the king's infringement on their liberties.2 When the townsmen forced the regents to expel the prelates from the cortes of 1295, toleration of such abuses was no longer acceptable. The principal sources for our understanding of the subject are the comparatively brief Chronicle of Jofre de Loaysa (d. 1307/13 10),3 contemporary with these events; the Royal Chronicle of Fernando IV written in the early fourteenth century by Fernan Sanchez de Valladolid,4 the documentation of the cortes, and some other privileges and charters. Although many eminent historians of medieval Spain, including Cesar Gonzalez Minguez, Peter Linehan, Jose Manuel Nieto Soria,Joseph E O'Callaghan, Waldimiro Piskorski, and Evelyn Procter,5 have explored the relationship between the Church of Castile-Leon and the state, no comprehensive study has appeared with regard to the Church of Castile-Leon and the cortes of 1295. Therefore, this article will present an intensive analysis of the tripartite struggle for power which occurred in the cortes of 1295 amongst the townsmen, the nobility, and the church, culminating in the attempt of the Castilian prelates to defend their libertas ecclesiastica (i.e., meaning exemption from royal taxation, the right to judgment in ecclesiastical courts, protection of ecclesiastical property, and payment of tithes).6 Tensions between secular monarchs and the ecclesiastical estate were not unique to the Kingdom of Castile-Le6n but reflected the escalating conflicts between feudal kings, who were becoming less acquiescent to challenges to their sovereignty, and an ambitious papacy, that sometimes subscribed to the political theory that popes were the temporal as well as the spiritual ruler of Christendom. Were the Castilian clergy to fare any better than either of their spiritual brothers in England or France as they attempted to defend their rights and liberties? In order to answer this question one must begin by examining the political situation in the Kingdom of Castile-Leon at the inception of Fernando IV's reign. In 1295 Fernando IV (1295-1312),the nine-year-old son of Sancho IV, succeeded to the throne of Castile-Leon. His minority caused anxiety for the Castilian clergy and fostered dissension throughout the entire kingdom. Moreover, the regency was only one of several volatile complications that made Fernando W's right to the throne vulnerable. His parents, Sancho WV (1284-1295) and Maria de Molina, were third cousins, in violation of the laws of consanguinity. Since they had never obtained a papal dispensation for their union, the papacy had condemned their marriage. Until a papal dispensation could be obtained, Sancho and Maria's children were considered illegitimate. In addition, Sancho W's rebellious actions against his father,Alfonso X (1252-1284), had resulted in his disinheritance in favor of his nephews the Infantes de la Cerda, who were the sons of Alfonso X's late son and heir Fernando. Also Alfonso X's younger sons, Juan and Jaime, had reconciled with their father before his death and had been granted Seville and Murcia, respectively. This obstacle had not prevented Sancho IV from claiming his kingship in 1284.7 Nevertheless, as Fernando IV was about to ascend to the throne of Castile-Leon the other rival claimants, the Infantes de la Cerda, Infantes Juan and Jaime, supported by their own allies, were actively vying for control of the kingdom. The archbishop of Toledo, Gonzalo Garcia Gudiel (1280-1299), and many of the other prelates "who knew from previous experience under Sancho IV that they could not afford to be idealists, but also could not allow their rights to be ignored," must have decided that this was not the time to take the offensive. …

Abstract: Susan Wabuda and Caroline Litzenberger (eds), Belief and Practice in Reformation England: A Tribute to Patrick Collinson from his Students, Aldershot, Ashgate, 1998, pp. xiv + 293, hb. £49.95, ISBN: 1859284302Patrick Collinson's infectious fascination with the personalities and processes of early modern religion is not confined to his own research, and Belief and Practice in Reformation England testifies to the impressive quality of work he fostered in his Cambridge research students. Singling out individual contributions from the eleven essays on offer is invidious, even if it is made necessary by limitations of space.In what is probably the book's most important essay, David Crankshaw authoritatively challenges William Haugaard's reading of the Canterbury Provincial Convocation of 1562-63. For some time, historians have suspected it was not 'puritan' dissidents pushing for further reform of the English Church's ceremonial and discipline, but rather the bishops. Through detailed analysis of the crucial sources, Crankshaw points to Archbishop Matthew Parker himself as principal mover of the reformanda, and, by implication, to Elizabeth herself as obstacle to their implementation. From the unpromising soil of petty detail and administrative process, Crankshaw harvests important insights into the 'half-reformed' nature of the established church and location of real authority in it.At much the same time as the bishops were planning further reform through Convocation, John Foxe was attempting reform from another angle, publishing a revised church calendar in the 1563 edition of Acts and Monuments which replaced many traditional saints with Protestant martyrs. As Damian Nussbaum demonstrates, where Archbishop Parker failed to win over the Queen, Foxe failed to win over anyone. Catholics were outraged at his 'impudence and impiety'; Protestants smelt a whiff of popery and turned up their noses. Foxe's original intent, however, was not merely to find heroes acceptable to reformers. His publication of an alternative calendar was also a thinly veiled attack on the one included in the 1559 Prayer Book, and is yet more evidence of the desire of early Elizabethan reformers to proceed further and faster than the Crown would permit.It was largely as a consequence of the limits set on the English Reformation that the spectrum of Protestant religious identity became so diffuse. John Craig, Arnold Hunt, and Alexandra Walsham all bring some clarity to this complexity by turning their spotlights on individuals. Craig's subjects are Thomas Rogers and the 'Cambridge boies' who organised the Bury St Edmunds combination-lectures of the 1590s. …

Abstract: In the preface to the posthumous collection of his miscellaneous works of 1709, the Godly cleric Edmund Hickeringill (1631-1708), was described as being 'averse to ceremonies and superstition; without a tincture of atheism; he was daring in the field, and prudent in the cabinet. He was a scholar without affectation, a divine without pride, and a lawyer that never took fee'. Cambridge educated, in May 1652 he was ordained into the Baptist Church at Hexham, Northumberland. While chaplain to Robert Lilburne's regiment, a 'grievous apostasy' befell him and he became a Quaker. Although described by one contemporary as a 'desperate atheist', from October 1662 until his death in 1708 Hickeringill was a conforming rector of the established Church of England. That his reputation amongst contemporaries was controversial is indicated by two posthumous events. Henry Compton, his diocesan bishop was reportedly responsible for erasing and defacing the funeral monument in the parish church, removing the phrase ‘Reverendus admodum Dominus’. Two years later, further aspersions were cast against his orthodoxy when his collected works were cited, in the state trial of Henry Sacheverell, as evidence of the scandalous profanity of the times. To some, Hickeringill was a 'false brother'; to others he was a devout defender of piety and true religion. Despite his public conformity, the course of his clerical career saw him in almost constant dispute and conflict with ecclesiastical authority. Historiographically, Hickeringill has been described as an example of the transition from radical puritan critique of ‘popery’ to the

Abstract: For the last 50-odd years we might, just possibly, have had a comprehensive, all-inclusive and properly funded national system for the education of adults, drawing upon all potential sources of lea...

Abstract: The article explores how race is being exploited to serve political agendas in contemporary Britain. It focuses on an examination of the Labour Government's orientation to race, and argues that despite an apparent concern, the Labour Government manipulates issues to suggest concern while it removes race from the policy agenda in education. The analysis begins with the Government's response to the Lawrence Report recommendations, then moves to consider the recent claim of an improvement in black children's achievement before it considers the document Excellence in Cities , published by the Department for Education in 1999. It concludes with a reflection on the Archbishop of Canterbury's Jesus 2000 to support the notion that this exploitation of race is becoming entrenched in British society, and that it is not benefiting the black Britons being exploited.

Abstract: In the year 1294/95, in the church of the Virgin Peribleptos in Ohrid, figures of the apostles Peter and Andrew were painted in the bottom register of wall paintings of the south wall, in front of the altar space (fig. 1), while those of St. Clement of Ohrid and St. Constantine Kabasilas appeared on the opposite, north wall (fig. 2). Their choice and placement on such a conspicuous location have already been the subject of interest of scholars who attempted to explain their iconography and unveil the reasons behind their appearance in this Ohrid church. The image of apostle Peter is related to the text of Mt. 16, 18 and this apostle is thus represented as carrying a church on his back while trampling on Hades who, at the same time, is being pierced by an angel bearing a lance. From above, Christ, shown in bust, addresses St. Peter with the gospel text written out in fresco above his image. This rare representation could be interpreted as an image referring to the founding of the church on earth by Christ. The gospel text which inspired it was one of the main arguments in the primacy doctrine of the Roman church. In Byzantium, on the other hand, the equality of all apostles was underlined, and Peter shared his place of honor with Paul and, at times, Andrew. This can explain the presence of the latter by Peter's side in the mentioned Ohrid church. On the opposite wall we find figures of saints who held in particular reverence in the Ohrid area, namely those of Clement and Constantine Kabasilas. St. Clement (whose relics were treasured in Ohrid) was a bishop in nearby Velika in the X century, and his cult developed shortly after his death. On the other hand, at the end of his lifetime Constantine Kabasilas, an archbishop of Ohrid from the middle of the XIII century, was very devoted to the emperor Michael VIII and that seems to have decisively contributed to the early development of his cult. We can basically except the opinion of those among the scholars who associated the images of the mentioned saints with Christ's founding of the church on earth and the spreading of Christianity among the Slavs. However, since the archbishopric of Ohrid had no direct apostolic origins, and since even St. Clement was actually its founder, the wall paintings of the Virgin Peribleptos should be viewed in a somewhat different light. It is well known that the Archbishopric was founded by emperor Basil II who, in the second sigillium (1020), associated it with the earlier existing Bulgarian archbishopric. However, in the XII century, if not already at an earlier date, the archbishopric of Ohrid began to be associated also with Justiniana Prima, the archbishopric founded by emperor Justinian in 535. The first to include it in his title was the archbishop of Ohrid John Komnenos, in 1157, and many of his successors followed his example. Formulas such as Bulgarian and Prima Justiniana which appear in their titles were of a legal and canonic nature and were used in defending the autocephalos rights of the Archbishopric from both the Roman and the Constantinopolitan church. This prompts us to explain the wall paintings of the eastern part of the naos of the Virgin Peribleptos as a result of intentions of the archbishops of Ohrid to underline the ties of their church with Justiniana Prima and the Bulgarian archbishopric. The image of the founding of the church upon St. Peter is not only a universal image of Christ's founding of the church on earth but also a reminder that the archbishopric of Ohrid was formed on the territory of ancient Illyricum which once belonged to Rome and was handed over as a result of an agreement between pope Vigilius and emperor Justinian for the purpose of founding the autocephalos church of Justiniana Prima. Supposedly, the independence and high rank of the archbishopric of Ohrid found justification in those facts. In his letter to patriarch Germanos II (from the 1220's), the archbishop of Ohrid Demetrios Chomatenos goes on to say that the emperor Justinian, in establishing the hierarchy of the most ancient and great patriarchal sees, called the pope of old Rome the first among priests, the patriarch of Constantinople the second and directly after him made mention of the see of the Bulgarian archbishopric, i.e. Ohrid. In the fresco decoration of the Virgin Peribleptos these references to the Roman and Constantinopolitan church were substituted by images of their founders, a common procedure in Byzantine iconography. Just as it did in Chomatenos's letter, the presence of the apostle Andrew was there to point out that the church of Ohrid belonged to the Orthodox world. The second argument upholding the ancient origins and independence of the church of Ohrid - reflected by both the title of its prelates and the wall paintings of the Peribleptos - is based on its ties with the ancient archbishopric of Bulgaria. That is why its archbishops strove to develop the cults of "Bulgarian" saints, primarily that of St. Clement. The text of his vita (XII century), ascribed to Theophylaktos of Ohrid, celebrates him as the most commendable missionary of the Bulgarian people, and in the Catalogue of Bulgarian archbishops (from the same century) he is mentioned in such a manner that one gets the impression that Clement was the first prelate of the territory of the future archbishopric of Ohrid. Such a calculated treatment of St. Clement was especially intensified in the XIII century, as attested in particular by his synaxarion vita and service, in which he is referred to as the thirteenth apostle. A similar phenomenon developed also in the decoration of the church of the Virgin Peribleptos in which Clement plays the role of the first prelate of Ohrid and the perpetuator of the activities of the apostles painted on the wall opposite his image. In order to express clearly and most thoroughly the idea of the origins and the nature of the Archbishopric, it was also necessary to include in this group an image of one archbishop of Ohrid and so the choice fell on Constantine Kabasilas, whose memory was still alive and who, moreover, was the only actually canonized archbishop of Ohrid. Finally, we should also inquire why this ideologically colored fresco decoration appeared in 1294/95 in the church of the Virgin Peribleptos. The theory of the supposed origins of the archbishopric of Ohrid greatly gained in importance in the course of the events related to the Union of Lyon. This time it was suitably used in an attempt to abolish the Serbian archbishopric and the Bulgarian (Trnovo) patriarchate, founded at a somewhat earlier date and for the most part on the one-time territory of the archbishopric of Ohrid. Such pretensions appeared openly in the charter issued by emperor Michael VIII to the archbishopric of Ohrid (1272) and in his memorandum to the pope, read at the Council of Lyon in 1274. Moreover, in 1282 the Serbian king Milutin conquered vast Byzantine territories so that certain administrative units of the archbishopric of Ohrid were not only dislocated within a different state but also became a part of a different, Serbian church. So while the Byzantine emperor attempted to recapture these territories by military force, the archbishop of Ohrid, Makarios, strove to demonstrate visually on the walls of the church of the Virgin Peribleptos the supposed origins of his archbishopric and thus also to claim its rights, through the images of the apostles Peter and Andrew and saints Clement and Constantine Kabasilas. Because of its political engagement, this painted decoration remained unique in medieval art and should thus find explanation in particular ideological and political motives.

Abstract: INTRODUCTION During the seventeenth century, a new term of theological abuse appeared: "latitudinarian." To those who coined the term, Latitudinarians appeared excessively willing to compromise on important matters of Christian doctrine, worship, and polity. Despite such criticisms, the Latitudinarians gradually achieved prominence under Kings Charles II and James II, and they assumed leadership of the Church of England under William III in the wake of the Glorious Revolution. Perhaps the leading Latitudinarian was John Tillotson, archbishop of Canterbury from 1691 until his death in 1694. In the words of one scholar, his sermons are "great rhetorical exemplars of latitudinarianism" and "as clear and important a source of latitudinarian ideas as there is."1 Like the Latitudinarians more generally, Tillotson's legacy has been contested. During his lifetime, he was accused of believing "nothing that lay beyond the compass of humane reason."2 Shortly after his death, leading Deists claimed that he had supported their position.3 At least some eighteenth-century evangelicals agreed, if with a very different value judgement. George Whitefield described Tillotson's sermons as "such husks, fit only for carnal, unawakened, unbelieving reasoners to eat" and famously said that Tillotson knew no more of true Christianity than Muhammad.4 Twentieth-century scholars have sometimes agreed with this assessment. For example, Gerald Cragg comments on the "prosaic worldliness," "pedestrian common sense," even the "unabashed hedonism" of Tillotson's sermons. "If the next age treated religion either as an exercise in logic or as an invitation to be upright on the most advantageous terms," Cragg claims, "it was because Tillotson had taught it the lesson."5 On the other hand, scholars such as Gerard Reedy, William Spellman, J. O'Higgins, and Roger Emerson have rejected this assessment.6 Most influentially, Reedy argues that Tillotson was "more orthodox than is often assumed, with reason and revelation ably integrated."7 To defend his position, Reedy advocates viewing six sermons that Tillotson preached on the nature and work of Christ as the "canon within a canon" for interpreting his thought as a whole. Reedy presents a powerful case, but one that is not fully persuasive. Tillotson preached and published these sermons primarily to answer accusations against him of heterodoxy.8 Although any adequate account of Tillotson's thought must surely consider these sermons, to take them as the key to his thought seems exaggerated. How, then, can we assess these competing claims about Tillotson? Tillotson's work supports both. On one hand, as we will see below, he could argue that Christianity simply revived natural religion. On the other, he insisted on the necessity of the Incarnation, revelation, and supernatural grace. The task is further complicated by the nature and extent of Tillotson's work. Over the course of more than thirty years, he delivered hundreds of sermons. Two hundred and fifty four of them are preserved in his collected works, along with miscellaneous other writings. The sheer volume of his output along with the time span that it covered makes it difficult to describe his work systematically. And he himself never wrote a systematic treatise offering a key to interpret the whole. However, Tillotson did provide a clue in the preface to his collected works. He described his purpose: "to establish men in the principles of religion, and to recommend to them the practice of it."9 If we can see how and why Tillotson established the principles of religion and persuaded people to practice it, then we have arrived at the heart of his theology and can see how he attempted to integrate such apparently disparate claims about nature and grace. Christianity, we will see, had value for Tillotson not so much because it added to natural religion, but because it restored fallen human nature to the point that people could discern and follow the otherwise almost impossible dictates of natural religion. …

Abstract: Abstract In the middle of the tenth century, just before the eruption of the crisis which has for a millennium been considered (somewhat optimistically) a ‘Tenth Century Reformation’, two curious things happened in the English Church. First, there was an unparalleled outburst of bishops with the name Brihthelm. The best-known was briefly archbishop of Canterbury in 959 before being elbowed out in a shameless putsch by Edgar and Dunstan. There also seem to have been Brihthelms at London (c.951-7), Wells (?956-73/4), and Winchester (958/9-63), while (an)other(s) feature(s) in documents of 956-7, first as ‘bishop elect’ and then with no title. Most important for present purposes, a Brihthelm appears as bishop of Selsey in two charters of 956 and 957, one highly questionable, the other not above suspicion but of great importance: yet he is not in the Selsey episcopal list, which offers no name between a bishop whose last attestation was in 953 and one whose dated debut was 963.

Abstract: On the periphery of Roman and English influence in western Ireland, these two bishops balanced external and local authority to remain in office for the first four decades of the reformation. At first, they repulsed claimants with both royal and papal appointments, but they spent the rest of their careers working with representatives of both churches. The support of local magnates mattered most in gaining, holding, and supporting a clergy in their sees; diocesan financial reports reveal varying levels of support tied to political distinctions within the region. Neither their personal faith nor the traditional religious practices in their dioceses show any impact of reforms promulgated by Rome or London. By the end of their lives, religious divisions had hardened and the opportunity for such ambiguity had passed.

Abstract: In 1727 Jonathan Swift published a poem, ‘To His Grace the Archbishop of Dublin’.1 The two men had enjoyed a long, if at times fractious, relationship, while King was Archbishop of Dublin (from 1703) and Swift Dean of St. Patrick’s (from 1713). Swift always doubted whether King had fully appreciated his Dean: in May 1727 he complained of King ‘giving me all sorts of uneasiness, without ever giving me, in my whole life, one single mark of your favour, beyond common civilities’.2 But Swift was unstinting in his poem saluting King’s opposition to the British government’s decision to grant a monopoly to William Wood to mint coinage for Ireland: ‘Great, good and just’ was once applied To one who for his country died; To one who lives in its defence, We speak it in a higher sense. O may the fates thy life prolong! Our country then can dread no wrong: In thy great care we place our trust, Because thou’rt great, and good, and just.

Abstract: First proposals for commemoration of the centenary of Australian Federation included one for re-enactment of the 1 January 1901 procession through the streets of Sydney which had culminated in the Commonwealth inauguration ceremony in Centennial Park. This proposal was eliminated at an early stage of serious planning and the organisers played safe with a parade which was (compared with preceding Olympic Games ceremonies) so unimaginative as to be almost boring, but totally uncontroversial. A restaged 1901 procession might have helped to stimulate serious discussion of the origins and nature of the 'Australia' which had been created that year. The original procession had at least two features which would, or should, disturb many of the assumptions of 2001 Australians and challenge current superficial versions of Australia's past. First, the original procession was overwhelmingly a celebration of Britishness, of the British Empire and, especially, of the Empire as a military security organisation. (1) Not only was it a predominantly military procession, but most of the soldiers marching and riding had been drawn from famous British and Indian regiments whose colourful uniforms and accoutrements contrasted with the drab khaki of the colonial troops. (2) Second, and more directly relevant to the subject of this paper, the procession and subsequent inauguration ceremony proceeded without official Catholic representation and publicly demonstrated the deep divisions, cultural and social as much as political, which separated the Catholic quarter (27 per cent in New South Wales) from the rest of the population in the colonies federating into the new Commonwealth. Federated Australia had begun with an official Catholic boycott. Late on the previous day the Catholic archbishop of Sydney, Patrick Francis Cardinal Moran, was informed by the secretary of the governor-general-elect, the seventh Earl of Hopetoun, that first place among religious representatives would be given to the Church of England archbishop of Sydney, William Saumarez Smith; and that only he, the Anglican Primate, would be allowed to read prayers and give blessings in the inauguration ceremonies. This represented a clear break with the procedure established in NSW, whereby precedence among heads of Churches on ceremonial occasions was to he allocated on the basis of length of time in office. (3) This would give first place to Moran, who also claimed special status (not conceded) as a cardinal. As soon as he was informed of Hopetoun's decision, Moran sent his secretary to see the NSW premier, William Lyne, who was organising the Sydney functions and had originally been Hopetoun's blundering choice to be the first federal prime minister. Lyne's performance in the 1897-98 Federal Convention sessions earned him Alfred Deakin's contempt: 'a crude, sleek, suspicious, blundering, short-sighted backblocks politician'. (4) He had campaigned against Federation before the referenda of 1898 and 1899. Now this man confirmed to Moran's secretary that he had agreed with Hopetoun's plans for 1 January. Moran then informed both Lyne and Hopetoun that for him to participate in the new arrangements would be to connive in the treatment of Catholics as second-class citizens and that, therefore, he would take no part in any of the day's official proceedings. (5) The Official Boycott On the morning of I January Cardinal Moran took up a position outside the northern end of St Mary's Cathedral--of which the central section, 'The Cardinal's Tower', had only just been completed--and watched the eight-kilometre long procession go by as it came out of the Domain for a loop through the city before making its way, via Park Street, to Centennial Park. Moran was surrounded by local clergy and visiting Church dignitaries, including Archbishop Carr of Melbourne who had supported the boycott decision. On one side of the assembled clergy was a choir of Catholic school-children who, when the governor-general's coach went by, sang a special Song for the Commonwealth, a setting of Roderic Quinn's poem composed by the Cathedral Director of Music, J. …

Abstract: No living English medievalist has done more than Barrie Dobson to illuminate the role of the universities in the history of the Black Monks. Whether in his studies of the two great houses of Durham and Canterbury—each of which exemplified the tradition of autonomy so fundamental to the order by founding its own house of study at Oxford—or in his masterly rehabilitation of the general contribution of the monks to the life of medieval Oxford—now matched by a foray into the relatively uncharted territory of the place of the monks at Cambridge—or in such more detailed studies as his unravelling of the collective Benedictine foundation at Oxford of Gloucester College, Barrie Dobson has brought to life le moine universitaire . Hence an account of the only English monk-bishop to establish a college for secular clerks at Oxford or Cambridge can find an appropriate place in a collection of essays compiled in Barrie Dobson's honour. The fact that this same bishop, of modest origins and elected in the face of fierce and unscrupulous opposition from both the archbishop of Canterbury and the royal government, displayed the idealism to found the first college in the nascent and as yet insecure University of Cambridge may also strike a chord with the student of the tales of Robin Hood.