L'anamnèse des liturgies eucharistiques pose deux problèmes: celui de son origine et celui de son développement. Le premier se rattache à la question plus générale de la structure de l'anaphore. Celle-ci, telle qu'elle nous apparaît dès la fin du IVe siècle, comporte six parties, abstraction faite des prières d'intercession qui représentent un développement secondaire. Ce sont: i. l'action de grâces; 2. le Sanctus; 3. le Post-Sanctus; 4. le récit de l'institution; 5. l'anamnèse; 6. l'épiclèse.

‘Il est hors de doute qu'en 1789 les curés de France ont puissamment contribué au triomphe du patriotisme révolutionnaire. Par patriotisme on entendait alors, d'une manière précise, l'amour passionné de la liberté et de l'égalité des droits…. On sait que ces curés patriotes, au nombre de près de 200, formèrent environ les deux tiers de la députation du Clergé aux Etats Généraux, et que, dans les mois de mai et juin 1789, ils arrivèrent, malgré tous les efforts du haut Clergé de leur Chambre, à contrecarrer l'action de celui-ci, obstinément attaché à la séparation des ordres et au vote par ordre, à dissocier l'ordre même dont ils faisaient parti et à préparer ainsi la fusion dans l'unique Assemblée nationale….’

A strong case has been made for the appearance of a new kind of history in late sixteenth-century France. Whether or not it deserves the label ‘historicist’, it has been credited with a desire to discover the objective face of the past, with a critical approach to sources, and even, though more rarely, with attempts to explain historical process. Prominent among the new brand of historians are Jean du Tillet, Charles du Moulin, Pierre and François Pithou, Claude Fauchet and Etienne Pasquier. All these men of the robe are also celebrated as defenders of the liberties of the Gallican Church. The Gallican tradition shared an attitude towards the past that was quite contrary to the new history. It did not accept change for its own sake, nor did it see change as improvement pointing towards the present.

In a general history of modern England A. J. P. Taylor stated that by the 1920s England ‘had ceased to be, in any real sense, a Christian nation’. He was no doubt referring to declining membership and attendance figures in most Protestant Churches (not the Roman Catholic Church), and may have been implying that there had been substantial abandonment of traditional belief. In regard to traditional morality, based on Christian precepts, he found greater laxity but no very noticeable decline; and this conclusion seems to be generally supported by Church experience in trying to uphold established morality in the inter-war years. Church assembly records and church newspapers show constant concern with familiar moral enemies such as drunkenness and gambling, and possible new dangers in the shape of films, broadcasting and information about birth control. Gambling was increasing because of the popularity of football pools and greyhound racing, but drunkenness appeared less common than before 1914, and the cinema was reasonably harmless (a Cinema Christian Council and other bodies striving to keep it so), as also was television when its broadcasts began in 1936. None the less, the general decline in church attendance was an indication of an increasingly secularised society in which the Churches, taken as a whole, had diminishing influence, and arguably this had a weakening effect on traditional morality.

The Calvinistic Confession of Faith written by the patriarch of Constantinople, Cyril Loukaris, is considered to be the most important product and at the same time the manifesto of the attempted union of the Protestant and Orthodox Churches. Presenting evidence which has been neglected in previous research, this article aims to revise this communis opinio by demonstrating that the book that was actually meant to become the theological foundation for the envisaged union was in fact the Ecclesiarum Belgicarum Confessio, a bilingual (Latin and Greek) publication (1623, 1627, 1648) containing the Βelgic Confession, the Heidelberg Catechism and several canons of the Synod of Dordrecht.

We state as a fact, which we have received, on what we deem undoubted authority, that the Puseyite party have bought up the BRITISH CRITIC, which publication accordingly will from henceforth be dedicated to the promulgation of their principles: The Record, 1 Jan. 1838

This article focuses on the Tractarian takeover and subsequent control of the British Critic, a politically and theologically conservative quarterly periodical, between 1838 and 1843. In doing so it claims several justifications. Firstly, and primarily, it seeks to demonstrate the importance of the Critic within first-generation Tractarianism and therefore to rehabilitate an extensive periodical journalism as a vital yet neglected source for historians of the movement. Though various Tractarians such as Richard Hurrell Froude, John Henry Newman, John Keble and Edward Bouverie Pusey had all written for the British Magazine and William Sewell regularly for the Quarterly Review in the early 1830s, it was the Critic which came to serve as the principal medium for the movement's commentary. Historians' neglect of this commentary, it is suggested, has had important consequences in terms of our understanding of Tractarianism, for it has served to marginalise certain aspects of the movement's early thought – in particular the social criticism which was a consistent feature of the Critic's pages.

This article examines, through the work and attitudes of its first four governors, the relations between Church and State in the last Australia colony to be established. It covers the period from the foundation of the colony in 1829 to the arrival of the first resident bishop of Perth in 1857. It challenges the prevailing historiography of a colonial administration wedded to Anglican privilege, and discusses the persistence of an erastian mind-set among the colonial governors in the 1840s despite the advent of a new paradigm of autonomous imperial engagement by the Church of England.

In seventeenth-century France, secular law favoured parents’ authority in children's choices of marriage, religion or the clerical state, despite Catholic theology and canon law favouring individual freedom. Negotiating this tension led many clerical writers – in advice on choosing a state of life found in devotional treatises, sermons and catechisms – to reconcile parental involvement with vocational liberty. Believing that the right choice of a state was virtually necessary for salvation, they urged parents and children to cooperate in discerning and accepting God's call. Amid conflicts with French law and culture, pastoral persuasion helped to forge an enduringly influential strain in modern Catholicism.

As is well known, the Balfour Education Act of 1902 was the subject of bitter and prolonged controversy between Anglicans and Nonconformists. Ever since 1870 the Church schools had been struggling in unequal competition against the rate-aided School Board system, and many of them by the turn of the century were ‘dragging along a miserable existence’ with inadequate buildings and inadequate staff. Yet, believing their schools to be vital for their Church's survival, Anglicans hung on grimly, hoping that the Unionist government of Lord Salisbury would at last provide its long-promised succour. Fundamentally Anglicans were concerned not just for denominational teaching, but for the presentation of such teaching in a suitable atmosphere. ‘The necessity of a religious temper in teaching religion’ meant the subjection of teachers to religious tests and the retention of denominational control of the schools.

The Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius employs a variety of expressions in describing the episcopal successions of the important churches. Some of these are theologically colourless, as the forms of λαμβάνειν to declare that one has ‘received’ the episcopate, or often the ‘ministry’ (λειτουργία), of a given church. Other formulae are related to the most important motifs associated with ordination in the ancient Church.

Every student of plainsong in the later Middle Ages and the sixteenth century is bound sooner or later to come up against problems of terminology. Some of the more puzzling ones are those connected with the practice of alternatim. It is not easy in every case to determine whether a writer is speaking of the organ or of a group of polyphonic singers when he mentions sections alternating with the plainsong.

The economic standing of the English parochial clergy in the early sixteenth century has been re-examined recently by Michael Zell, and the evidence at his disposal suggests that many of them were poverty-stricken in the extreme. He points to the large surplus of unendowed curates, chaplains and the like, and to the fact that when employment was available it was neither rewarding, in a monetary sense, nor necessarily secure. Stipends were officially regulated by an early fifteenth-century statute which set a maximum of £5 6s. 8d. per annum, and ‘evidence from all regions of England indicates that very rarely were curates and chaplains given more than that’. It was not uncommon for areas in the north to pay even less than this. In Lancashire, for example, the average salary of about 100 curates and chaplains in 1524 was £2 9s. 6d. In the East Riding of Yorkshire a year later it was £4. On the basis of such evidence, Mr Zell reasonably concludes that the unbeneficed clergy must have found it very difficult to survive, and that ‘the average country priest could not have been a person of high social status’.

The tangled web of polemical debate, theological dispute and scholarly investigation surrounding the ‘Filioque question’ is essentially the consequence of the union newly created in the eighth century between the Franks and the papacy. It is our purpose, therefore, in so far as it is pertinent to our topic, to characterise the nature and bases of that unique union and its relevance to the historical kaleidoscope of events which made the new alignment a necessity. By this method it is hoped that the Filioque controversy may be integrated into the larger historical context from which it sprang and removed from its confinement to a segmented aspect of the development of ecclesiastical dogma. It is well-known that the addition to the creed of the words ‘and from the Son’, as they pertained to the procession of the Holy Spirit, resulted in a long-standing conflict of twelve centuries which only in our own days would seem to reach its term. In re-examining the origins, evolution and outbreak of the disagreement over the revised creed and in asking how what appears to modern eyes as a mere liturgical variation could become such a major issue during three centuries, we should like to demonstrate the exceptional character of a liturgical issue as it illuminates the then prevailing relationship between pope and Frankish emperor. By contrast, its significance for later doctrines of Church and State should also become apparent.

Origen and Austine might be thought to represent opposite extremes in Pauline exegesis. In working out his characteristic understanding of Pauline theology Augustine developed emphases which were different from those of Origen. In his early works of Pauline exegesis of 394–6 a central point for Augustine is the relationship between works of the law and grace. Origen’s Commentary on Romans develops many Pauline themes, but he takes a more historical approach than Augustine, and a prominent emphasis for him is the relationship between Jews and Gentiles in the divine dispensation. Augustine is an independent thinker, who digests his reading and does not plagiarise. It is not always easy to identify his use of earlier writers. The example to be discussed in the following paper is of particular interest, since it gives us the opportunity of seeing Augustine’s reaction to Origen on the central point of justification by faith at a period just before the outbreak of the Pelagian controversy.

‘No portion of our annals’, Macaulay wrote in 1828, ‘has been more perplexed and misrepresented by writers of different parties than the history of the Reformation’. In the early years of the nineteenth century, when polemicists turned to history more often than to philosophy or theology, the Reformation was the subject most littered with the pamphlets of partisan debate. Macaulay could have cited numerous examples. Joseph Milner's popular History of the Church of Christ (1794–1809) set the Reformation in sharp contrast to the ‘Dark Ages’ when only occasional gleams of evangelical light could be detected, thus providing the Evangelical party with a historic lineage; Robert Sou they, in his Book of the Church (1824), presented a lightly-veiled argument for the retention of the existing order of Church and State as established in the sixteenth century; and in 1824 William Cobbett began the first of his sixteen weekly instalments on a history of the Protestant Reformation in England and Ireland, in order to call attention to the plight of labourers in the British Isles. In the history of the Reformation, duly manipulated (‘rightly interpreted’), men found precedents for their own positions and refutation of their opponents' arguments.

Mr Lloyd's argument is based on the fact that Calvin, when discussing the magistrates' duty to protect the commons against a tyrannical ruler, describes them as tutores. He suggests that Calvin was specifically referring to the tutela of Roman law.

Tutela in Roman law was the power allowed by the law to a ‘guardian’ over a free person—normally one who had been left independent by the death of his father, in whose power he had been—who by reason of age was unable to look after his own affairs. The tutor's function was confined to safeguarding the property interests of the child, and did not extend to control over his personal welfare or education. Tutela lasted in the case of a boy until puberty (the age of fourteen years) but thereafter it was usual for a young man to have a curator to look after his property and he was subject to cura or curatio until he was twenty-five. The tutor was liable for both fraud and negligence, and the liability was enforced by two actions. One, the crimen suspecti tutoris, could be brought by anyone other than the ward himself, to obtain the removal of the tutor for misconduct; the other, the actio tutelae, was brought by the former ward, after the completion of the tutela, for any misconduct committed during it.

Historians of education have deepened our understanding of the development of American boarding schools by challenging he popular view of them as straightforward continuations of New England academies or as imitations of British public schools and by tracing their actual roots back to a distinctive series of institutions that began in the United States in the 1820s, ‘30s, and ’40s. Sociologists have increased our awareness of the social and economic conditions that contributed to the flourishing of these schools as upper-class domains during the Gilded Age.1 It remains for the student of religious history to point out the close connection that existed between the prototypical American boarding schools and representatives of the Episcopal High Church tradition, and to attempt to demonstrate that this association was no coincidence but that the schools were themselves concrete expressions of the High Church outlook.

The importance of canon law collections to Anglo-Saxon legal culture has long been thought negligible, especially in comparison to the considerable importance of an alternative genre of canonical literature known as the penitential handbook. Over the past several decades, however, evidence for the use and circulation of continental canon law collections in pre-Conquest England has been mounting, to the extent that it could challenge traditional notions about the dominance of penitential law in the early English Church. This study presents new evidence for the reception in Anglo-Saxon England of a major continental collection known as the Collectio vetus Gallica.

This article examines the canonisation process of Clare of Assisi and seeks to contextualise it within the currents of early Franciscan history. It refutes recent scholarship on Clare that has focused upon her place in the history of medieval women and draws on Italian scholarship to argue for a more nuanced reading of the texts surrounding Clare that takes into account the deep-set divisions between the papacy and the friars about the role of women in the Franciscan order and compares the post-mortem treatment of Clare to that of Francis.

Perhaps because the classification of religious behaviour in the Middle Ages has not received much attention, there seems to be no scholarly consensus concerning the number or nature of its genres. This means that at present we tend to have either inadequately differentiated, broad categories of medieval religious acts, or somewhat incoherent lists of highly specific religious practices. That a good number of these religious forms pre-existed and continued long after the Christian Middle Ages is not in doubt; nor is the fact that such religious behaviours are not necessarily confined to the Christian tradition. The present discussion, however, will focus exclusively upon the Latin Christian tradition, c. 1000–c. 1500.

Surveying the expressive modes of medieval religion presents less difficulty than grouping such behaviours within larger intelligible categories. Current scholarly literature makes it clear that certain varieties of medieval religious practice are almost universally acknowledged: veneration of the saints; attendance at sermons; private prayer; participation in public, collective liturgies (for example, processions on diverse occasions); acting under the influence of prophecy; setting off on pilgrimage, whether penitential or devotional; taking the Cross; performing formal or informal acts of devotion or piety (‘devotion’ is one aspect of the medieval religious life urgently in need of sharp definition); and attempting, often through ascetic exercises, to experience God (mysticism). By no means is this an exhaustive list. The titular subject of this essay, as the reader will have noticed, does not appear in it.