The ignominious end of the conciliar movement in the mid-fifteenth century strikes many contemporary historians and theologians as one of the tragedies in the history of western civilization. Having shown great promise as an instrument of ecclesiastical reform and credited with ending the scandalous Great Western Schism in 1417, the movement for all practical purposes reached an inglorious end with the signing of the Concordat of Vienna in 1448. Though the tragic dimensions of the movement's demise are somewhat diminished by the truth of Tierney's conjecture that “the merely constitutional reforms emphasized in the conciliar programme could not have produced the much-needed regeneration in the whole life of the Church”, one is nevertheless inclined to view with sadness the neutralization of the nascent democratic aspirations which conciliarism represented.

In 1636 the Puritan Commonwealth of Massachusetts Bay was confronted with a sectarian outburst which rent the religious and civil peace of Boston and temporarily threatened that of the whole colony. Certain of the Boston congregation, led by Anne Hutchinson and abetted by John Cotton, the teacher of the church, charged that the clergy of the Bay, almost entirely, were not true ministers of the gospel but in fact a company of unregenerate “legalists”, preaching a “covenant of works” instead of a “covenant of grace”, and there by hindering the work of redemption. For nearly two years the “Antinomian Controversy” darkened the radiance of the City on the Hill, and echoes of the affair returned in the next decade to plague apologists for the New England Way. Part of the apologists' difficulty was the fact that their star, the illustrious Cotton, had been on the wrong side.

Historians have commonly taken the secularization of politics and diplomacy as one of the great themes of the seventeenth century, and rightly so. But secular attitudes in matters of state did not move in an unbroken, irresistible progression; until well into the century they coexisted with more traditional modes of thought and developed against resistance from many people who still believed it immoral to divorce religion from politics. Moreover it was by no means always clear which trend was the stronger. Thus long after the Peace of Westphalia, for example, the possibility of international religious war continued to seem real, even to the point where fears of it entered into considerations of diplomacy. One interesting case of this kind arose in the course of Anglo-French negotiations during the mid-1650s, when apprehension of a Catholic crusade on the one side and rumors of a Protestant one on the other added a special dimension to an already complicated situation.

He “saw England with fresh eyes”, and for more than fifty years Elie Halévy's provocative interpretation of the effect of religion on the Victorian out look has continued to engender lively debate and controversy. After his History of the English People in the Nineteenth Century, few historians would contest the practical role of evangelicalism and nonconformity in molding Victorian society. What continues to be challenged is Halévy's claim that the moral influence of the evangelical movement is the parameter within which the social history of nineteenth-century England unfolded.

In the first part of the nineteenth century, Frenchmen had to adjust their world view to the ideological issues raised by the Revolution and to the economic problems that came with the development of industrial society. At issue was the extent to which traditional institutions could adjust to a rapidly changing world. At that time literate Frenchmen felt that they were living in an ideological crisis. Many asked themselves whether Christianity could survive and attempt to resolve the problems of the new world. Such a question had great relevance in an era during which the discussion of social and political issues was felt by most educated Europeans to have a religious foundation. Either the Roman Catholic Church would have to take renewed stock of itself and learn how to deal with the problems of the new era, or a new religion would have to be constructed to resolve the early nineteenth-century ideological crisis.

Newman's Apologia pro vita sua is remembered as a work of literature, a lasting monument of religious autobiography. Yet it was also a work of religious controversy, perhaps the most ephemeral of literary genres. Indeed, it was primarily a work of controversy; Newman, who almost never wrote except for an occasion, had called upon autobiography as the ultimate debating technique in a dispute which had come to center upon the personal honesty of one of the disputants. Truthfulness was pressed into service in an argument which, after all, was about “truth, for its own sake”, as “a virtue with the Roman clergy.” The artfulness of Newman's candour was successful in its purpose; and in the triumphant vindication of his personal integrity, the original controversy was virtually obliterated, leaving behind a work of autobiographical art.

The mission of Myron C. Taylor, personal representative of Presidents Roosevelt and Truman to Pope Pius XII, remains a strange anomaly in the history of the foreign relations of the United States. Ever since 1867, when an act of Congress terminated diplomatic relations between the republic and the world's oldest diplomatic entity, the United States had been unrepresented at the Vatican City. The short-lived attempt to reconstitute some form of permanent and effective diplomatic presence was born in controversy and lasted only from 1940 to 1950 during the incumbency of the single appointee. When on Taylor's resignation President Truman attempted to appoint a popular second world war general to the post, the outcry in the United States was so heated that the nomination had to be withdrawn and the venture abandoned. What went wrong? Was the storm of protest merely a result of religious bigotry on the part of American Protestantism? Or had Taylor's conduct of his mission been such as to evoke these outraged feelings? Certain episodes of the diplomatic negotiations between the United States and the Vatican have already been published, for example, the polite exchange of courtesies collected and introduced by Taylor himself, Wartime Correspondence between President Roosevelt and Pope Pius XII. Some more controversial matters, such as the question of the advisability of bombing Rome, were outlined from the American point of view in the Foreign Relations of the United States. Not until the Vatican's recent decision to publish some of its papers from the pontificate of Pius XII, or more particularly until the opening of Taylor's own papers in 1973, has it been possible to study in more detail the curious entanglement of theological, diplomatic and political considerations which governed the United States' relations with the Vatican, and encompassed Taylor's mission from beginning to end.