Opus Anglicanum (But Catholic, NOT Anglican!)

The Victoria & Albert Museum in London has announced, and local media are covering, an exhibition of English Medieval Embroidery opening this October:

Explore a selection of the most outstanding examples of English Medieval embroidery. Featuring surviving examples of exquisite craftsmanship, this exhibition will focus on the artistic skill of the makers and the world in which they were created.

See the website for examples of the works to be displayed.

The Guardian and The Independent have covered the announcement of the exhibition. From The Guardian:

A golden lion on red silk once thrown over a king’s horse, a pair of gold and silk slippers peeled from the mummified feet of a bishop when his tomb was opened after 600 years and a lute being played by an angel on horseback are being gathered together at the V&A museum – precious survivors of an art form in which England once led the world.

The V&A’s autumn exhibition Opus Anglicanum: Masterpieces of English Medieval Embroidery, will be the first in more than half a century devoted to this beautiful embroidery work, coveted by kings and popes – and for the first time in decades, the museum has dared to use Latin in an exhibition title. It means “English work”, and curator Glyn Davies said it demonstates how across Europe, people associated the dazzling skill and luxurious materials with English needle-workers.

From The Independent:

London’s Victoria & Albert Museum is to exhibit ‘surviving examples of exquisite craftsmanship’ in English Medieval embroidery, encompassing gold, silver and pearl work fit for, and indeed used by, a king.

Artifacts at Opus Anglicanum: Masterpieces of English Medieval Embroidery will include a gold lion-emblazoned silk thrown over a king’s horse and opulent slippers taken from a bishop when his tomb was opened after 600 years.

The Vatican has also provided some pieces on loan, which were commissioned by Pope Innocent IV after he coveted the regal garments being worn by English bishops.

The context that's missing--perhaps assumed--from both of the stories, which seem to be aimed at making sure readers understand the use of Latin in the exhibition title, is that much of this work was created for the celebration of Holy Mass and other Catholic sacraments. I'm sure, from the V&A description, promising the dual focus on the creativity of the English artisans and the "world in which [the works] were created", that the omission will be corrected. An older page about embroidery in England may be accessed here.

Image credit: Wikipedia commons (public domain): "Embroidered bookbinding for the Felbrigge Psalter in couched gold thread and split stitch, likely worked by Anne de Felbrigge, a nun in the convent of Minoresses at Bruisyard, Suffolk, during the latter half of the fourteenth century."

St. Nicholas Day and Boy Bishops

The medieval tradition of "ordaining" a Boy Bishop from among the choirboys:

In the Middle Ages the life of a chorister was harsh and severe. The daily routine was rigorous, food not over-plentiful and corporal punishment frequent. Thus one can imagine that once a year the prospect of feasts, power over their superiors and freedom to travel the diocese was looked forward to with the utmost expectation by these young boys.

The dates of these festivities varied greatly from diocese to diocese. Some started on 6 December (St Nicholas Day) and others on 28 December (Holy Innocents Day). A few continued from 6 December to 28 December without break.

The election of the Boy Bishop also varied from cathedral to cathedral. In some, the boys themselves elected their bishop but in others, especially as time went on, the bishop was elected by the clergy. He would be dressed in cope and mitre and carry a bishop's crook and his fellows would be attired in colourful robes.

This attracted enormous crowds to the cathedrals, all pressing to get a better view of the boys, also of the clergy descending from their accustomed seats and taking the lowest pews. During the exchanging of seats the canticle Magnificat was sung, also the office of Vespers during the ornate procession which wound its way round the whole cathedral with censers swinging in the light of many candles. After the service the boys would expect an enormous feast with wine.

At York the Boy Bishop and his young attendants would set off on horseback to tour the diocese, visiting monasteries and houses of the nobility where they were given money and presents. In most cathedrals the Boy Bishop preached a sermon carefully prepared for him by an adult for fear of what he might say if left to his own devices.

The real bishop and the Boy Bishop exchanged places during the Magnificat at specifically appropriate moment: the bishop would leave his cathedra at the phrase deposuit potentes de sede ("he hath put down the mighty from their seat"), and the Boy Bishop would take his seat at et exaltavit humiles ("and hath exalted the humble and meek").

Queen Elizabeth I finally put an end to this tradition. It was very popular and I think signifies confidence on the part of the Catholic bishops. Under certain controls, designating a Boy Bishop was the local ordinary "lightening up", not taking himself so seriously. The dates chosen for the Boy Bishop's time in office highlight youth. St. Nicholas of Myra's feast is on December 6 and he is a patron saint and protector of children; the Feast of the Holy Innocents remembers the little boys murdered by King Herod the Great in his attempt to kill Jesus, the newborn King. This is Merry Old England at its best.

Happy St. Nicholas Day!

If England Had Remained Catholic

There have been other alternative histories of England if the Spanish Armada succeeded, for example, or if, somehow the English Reformation never happened, but they have usually been negative and based upon flawed historical understanding. One example is Kingsley Amis' The Alteration, as summarized on this website:

Renowned novelist Kingsley Amis entered alternate-history territory in 1976 with his award-winning novel The Alteration. In his imagined history, Henry VIII’s short-lived older brother, Arthur, has a son just before his death. When Henry tries to usurp his nephew’s throne, he is stopped in a papal war. Hence, the Church of England is never founded, the Spanish Armada is never defeated (as Elizabeth I was never born), and Martin Luther reconciles with the Catholic Church, eventually becoming Pope. Naturally, this turns Europe into a vastly different place. By 1976, it is ruled by the Vatican, in the middle of a long-running Christian/Muslim cold war, and technologically regressed, as electricity is banned and scientists are frowned upon.

Of course, that last statement is ridiculously inaccurate, since Catholics, especially Jesuit priests--in the real world--were scientists. Of course, in Amis' world, St. Ignatius of Loyola might never have founded the Jesuits. But then, Benedictines would have fostered the use of electric power, just as they developed water power in their monasteries. Typical anti-Catholic rubbish. (Read or re-read Thomas E. Woods, Jr.'s How the Catholic Church Built Western Civilization in paperback from Ignatius Press for more information on the Catholic Church and science.)

Dominic Selwood writes in The Catholic Herald a more hopeful view of England if the infant Henry the Duke of Cornwall hadn't died:

The 19-year-old King Henry VIII took to the field arrayed in cloth of gold and blue velvet, all spangled with golden hearts and K’s for his 25-year-old wife, Katherine of Aragon, whose honour he defended as “Sir Loyal Heart”. The joust was the most lavish of Henry’s reign, celebrating the birth, 10 days earlier on New Year’s Day, of their son, Prince Henry, Duke of Cornwall.

Henry VIII and Katherine went on to preside over England’s first truly Renaissance court, where the progressive influence of Thomas More and Erasmus brought a gentle but keen appreciation of the classics and humanities. When Henry died an old man, he was mourned as our greatest scholar king.

His son, King Henry IX, acceded to the throne, inaugurating one of England’s most luminous reigns. He sponsored the maritime genius of Drake and Raleigh, oversaw England’s first substantial colonies in the New World, and witnessed the consolidation of England and Spain as Europe’s leading Catholic powers.

Selwood reminds us that's not what happened, of course, but then begins to sketch out some alternative ideas about the past and the present:

But let’s rejoin the story with Henry VIII, and ask what would have happened if Henry and Katherine had never divorced. How might England be different today?

First, the Reformation would almost certainly not have reached England, then known affectionately for the deepness of its Catholic faith as “Mary’s Dowry”. There were few Protestants this side of the Channel, and nothing suggests they would have grown in any significant numbers. So, like most of continental Europe, England would have remained Catholic.

He thinks that Mystery Plays would still be popular or would have influenced current drama, the monasteries would still be helping the needy, sheltering the homeless, and welcoming the stranger, and that English Catholic spirituality, with its colorful, gentle beauty would have greater influence--Selwood also opines that Cardinal Archbishop Edmund Campion would have led "an English scriptural renaissance" by translating the Holy Bible into English (instead of being torn apart at Tyburn Tree). Selwood should have also mentioned the influence of the friaries on social welfare and care for the poor (he may be lumping monasteries and friaries together, but there is a difference.)

Read the rest there.

My Review of Alison Weir's "Elizabeth of York"

I read this book on my Kindle, inspired by Elena Maria Vidal's review on her Tea at Trianon blog.

Elizabeth of York was like a hinge between the Plantagenets and the Tudors. Henry VII married her to strengthen his claim to the throne of England by conquest and yet he delayed both their wedding and her coronation in the attempt to assert it was his claim on the throne that mattered, not hers. (But it was really hers that mattered.)

Haunting both Elizabeth's "reign" as Queen and Henry's rule as King were her little brothers, Edward V and Richard, the Duke of York. Richard III had bastardized all of Edward IV's children, including Elizabeth, in Parliament--claiming that Edward had a pre-existing marital contract--and had held Edward and Richard in the Tower of London. They were reportedly killed there by orders of Richard III, yet their remains had never been found. Henry VII tried to find them; Elizabeth, as Weir notes, must have always wondered what happened to her brothers, who came before, as males, in the line of succession.

Weir introduces various other mysteries along the way through this biography: would Elizabeth really have wanted to marry Richard III? did Henry VII dislike Elizabeth's mother, Elizabeth Woodville? did Elizabeth and Margaret Beaufort, Henry's mother, get along or not? why did Queen Elizabeth of York go to Wales while pregnant and ill?, etc. She presents various pieces of evidence, analyzes their sources, presents her opinion, but ultimately leaves it to the reader to decide unless she is certain of the answer. At first--and she followed that process in another of her books I've read, The Lady in the Tower, about the fall of Anne Boleyn--this process frustrated me because it seemed to interrupt the flow of the narrative. But I have grown to accept and appreciate her letting me in on the process of thinking about the past, disputed information, and sources.

I recommend Elizabeth of York: The First Tudor Queen to those who want to know more about the world of the Tudors as well as those who want to know more about Elizabeth. Alison Weir describes the structures and finances of the Tudor Court with vivid detail. Well illustrated. No index in the Kindle edition; I don't like not having an index!

Chesterton and Newman on English Catholic Literature

Our Wichita chapter of the American Chesterton Society will meet next week at Eighth Day Books to conclude our discussion of The Thing: Why I am a Catholic, reading the last three essays. The first of those three is titled "If They Had Believed" (Chapter 33) and Chesterton brings up John Henry Newman's summing up of English Literature:

ONE of the things our enemies do not know is the real case for their own side. It is always for me a great matter of pride that the proudest, the most genuine and the most unanswerable boast, that the Protestants of England could ever make, was made for them by a Catholic. Very few of the Protestants, of his time at any rate, would have had the historical enlargement or enlightenment to make it. For it was said by Newman, when that great master of English was surveying the glorious triumphs of our tongue from Bacon and Milton, to Swift and Burke, and he reminded us firmly that, though we convert England to the true faith a thousand times over, "English literature will always HAVE BEEN Protestant." 

That generous piece of candour might well be represented as even too generous; but I think it is very wise for us to be too generous. It is not entirely, or at least not exclusively true. The name of Chaucer is alone enough to show that English literature was English a long time before it was Protestant. Even a Protestant, if he were also English, could ask for nobody more entirely English than Chaucer. He was, in the essential national temper, very much more English than Milton. As a matter of fact, the argument is no stronger for Chaucer than it is for Shakespeare. But in the case of Shakespeare the argument is long and complicated, as conducted by partisans; though sufficiently simple and direct for people with a sense of reality. I believe that recent discoveries, as recorded in a book by a French lady, have very strongly confirmed the theory that Shakespeare died a Catholic. But I need no books and no discoveries to prove to me that he had lived a Catholic, or more probably, like the rest of us, tried unsuccessfully to live a Catholic; that he thought like a Catholic and felt like a Catholic and saw every question as a Catholic sees it. The proofs of this would be matter for a separate essay; if indeed so practical an impression can be proved at all. It is quite self-evident to me that he was a certain real and recognisable Renaissance type of Catholic; like Cervantes; like Ronsard. But if I were asked offhand for a short explanation, I could only say that I know he was a Catholic from the passages which are now used to prove he was an agnostic.

Then Chesterton poses an intriguing question: What "If They Had Believed" in Catholicism?:

But that is another and much more subtle question, which is not the question I proposed to myself in starting this essay. In starting it, I proposed to grant the whole sound and solid truth of Newman's admission; that there has indeed arisen out of the disunion of Europe a great and glorious English Protestant literature; and to make some further speculations upon the point. And I think that nothing could make clearer to the modern English, the one supreme thing that they don't know (which is what our religion really is and why we think it real) than to put this rather interesting historical question. What difference would it have made to the great masters of English literature, if they had been Catholics?

He discusses a few examples, Bunyan, Milton, the Romantics, and then comes back to Milton and even Sir Walter Scott:

I take it that the imaginative magnificence of Milton's epic, in such matters as the War in Heaven, would have been much more convincing, if it had been modelled more on the profound mediaeval mysteries about the nature of angels and archangels, and less on the merely fanciful Greek myths about giants and gods. PARADISE LOST is an immortal poem; but it has just failed to be an immortal religious poem. Those are most happy in reading Milton who can read him as they would read Hesiod. It is doubtful whether those seeking spiritual satisfaction now read him even as naturally as they would read Crashaw. I suppose nobody will dispute that the pageantry of Scott might have taken on a tenfold splendour if he could have understood the emblems of an everlasting faith as sympathetically as he did the emblems of a dead feudalism. For him it was the habit that made the monk; but the habit would have been quite as picturesque if there had been a real monk inside it; let alone a real mind inside the monk, like the mind of St. Dominic or St. Hugh of Lincoln. "English literature will always have been Protestant"; but it might have been Catholic; without ceasing to be English literature, and perhaps succeeding in producing a deeper literature and a happier England.

Coincidentally, Father C. John McCloskey provides more insight into Newman's appreciation of Catholic Literature in The Catholic Thing (get it: Chesterton's The Thing, Father McCloskey in The Catholic Thing--too perfect for coincidence!) and its influences:

Blessed John Henry Newman gave a classic justification for paying attention to such works. In his lectures to the students at the Catholic university that he founded in Dublin in the mid-1800s (later published as The Idea of the University), he discusses the meaning and purpose of Catholic literature. And he draws very interesting distinctions – and lessons from them:

When a “Catholic Literature in the English tongue” is spoken of as a desideratum, no reasonable person will mean by “Catholic works” much more than the “works of Catholics.” The phrase does not mean a religious literature. “Religious Literature” indeed would mean much more than “the Literature of religious men;” it means over and above this, that the subject-matter of the Literature is religious; but by “Catholic Literature” is not to be understood a literature which treats exclusively or primarily of Catholic matters, of Catholic doctrine, controversy, history, persons, or politics; but it includes all subjects of literature whatever, treated as a Catholic would treat them, and as he only can treat them.

Newman was clearly trying to stake out a particular kind of writing that would not be the usual apologetics or spiritual works or theology. In his day, he could assume most people would understand what he was getting at: “Why it is important to have them treated by Catholics hardly need be explained here. . . .For it is evident that, if by a Catholic Literature were meant nothing more or less than a religious literature, its writers would be mainly ecclesiastics; just as writers on Law are mainly lawyers, and writers on Medicine are mainly physicians or surgeons.”

The point has a bearing far beyond what might apply in professional groups or academic disciplines: “if this be so, a Catholic Literature is no object special to a University, unless a University is to be considered identical with a Seminary or a Theological School.”

For Newman, the importance of literature stems from our very nature and God-given powers as human beings, especially language:

if by means of words the secrets of the heart are brought to light, pain of soul is relieved, hidden grief is carried off, sympathy conveyed, counsel imparted, experience recorded, and wisdom perpetuated,—if by great authors the many are drawn up into unity, national character is fixed, a people speaks, the past and the future, the East and the West are brought into communication with each other,—if such men are, in a word, the spokesmen and prophets of the human family,—it will not answer to make light of Literature or to neglect its study; rather we may be sure that, in proportion as we master it in whatever language, and imbibe its spirit, we shall ourselves become in our own measure the ministers of like benefits to others, be they many or few, be they in the obscurer or the more distinguished walks of life,—who are united to us by social ties, and are within the sphere of our personal influence.

Here is the source for Newman's comments on Catholic Literature.

I think I will bring Father McCloskey's article to our meeting next Friday, November 21, at 6:30 p.m., gathering around the table on the second floor of Eighth Day Books--along with the Maple Bacon and Pumpkin Spice cookies I'm going to bake! If you are in Wichita, drop by and join the group! There will certainly be other refreshments and libations!

The Ordinariate as Rebuilder of "Authentic English Catholicism"

One of the fruits of the recent Ordinariate outreach earlier this month, Called to Be One, is this speech by Father Ed Tomlinson , leader of the Tunbridge Wells Ordinariate group on how the Ordinariate can help rebuild what was lost of English Catholicism through Henry VIII's and Elizabeth I's Reformations:

People picture the Catholic Church as rigid. Yet in reality it is incredibly diverse; it has different Rites, Antiocheon and Armenian, and even variety within the Latin Rite, Dominicans differ from Jesuits. And historically there has been diversity between local Churches in different countries. Because the Catholic church isn’t ONE church so much as MANY united by the papacy. Each having developed unique charisms- cultural and spiritual gifts to be treasured- that it might speak at a local as well as universal level. Which is why it’s dumb when they label us Roman Catholics. We are not, they live in Italy. We are English Catholics. And tonight I want to consider what that means…

But this isn’t an easy task because English Catholicism lost so much of its cultural identity during the reformation. Prior to that the Catholic faith had defined what it meant to be English. The great Cathedrals and Norman and Saxon churches were built. Oxford and Cambridge founded. Schools and Hospitals built and art, music and architecture of the highest standard produced. Many things people now assume were ever Anglican were, in truth, Catholic in origin and inspiration.

To be English was to be Catholic. And English Catholicism had a fine reputation the world over. Consider our patron St Anselm’s contribution to philosophy from his seat in Canterbury. Or the architecture of the fine English Cathedrals. History tells us then – authentic English Catholicism was imbued with high culture. A thirst for liturgical, academic, cultural and spiritual excellence.

But then comes the reformation and the “English Way” was decimated. What was distinct about English Catholicism, from say French or Spanish Catholicism, was smashed to pieces by Henry VIII-like a vase thrown to the ground. A helpful image that suggests any quest to rediscover English Catholicism is a task in relocating those separated pieces and bringing them back to the whole. A work of unity- in other words.

Father Tomlinson provides some insights into the long period of recusancy in England and how those recusants maintained Catholicism in England, but being hidden and underground without influence on English culture (except for fear, I suppose); then he examines the renewal of Catholicism in England at least partially by foreign missionaries--all the while using that analogy of putting that broken vase back together by restoring the base. Then he reminds his listeners of Pope Benedict XVI's great vision in establishing the Anglican Ordinariate structure;

By establishing the Ordinariate Pope Benedict gave a shot in the arm to the rebuilding of authentic English Catholicism. He reached out to Anglicans who retained aspects of the pre-reformation way. That is he picked up a broken fragment of what Henry once smashed in the hope of restoring it to its rightful base.

His hope that the Catholic church in England might be helped in its mission because the Ordinariate can deliver a very English flavour. We speak to those raised on Mattins culturally. Building a door into the Catholic church so much easier for Englishmen to open. Hence the CDF proclaimed us ‘on the front row of ecumenism’. We can help recall a nation to its historic faith using its own rites and language. At least that is the hope.

It was for the evangelisation of England then that the Ordinariate was established. At present a fragile shoot -it needs support- but it with huge potential for the future. Many Catholics have long been about the conversion of England. We come to do our bit. For we are another part of the broken vase- the first wave of reformers coming home as groups together- that we might be One.

Very worthwhile to read--it's even available as a .pdf for easy printing and reading (slowly!)

"Art Under Attack" at Tate Britain: Under Attack

Art Under Attack: Histories of British Iconoclasm opened this week at the Tate Britain, and reviews are not totally positive. Not having seen the exhibition of course, I can still see what the reviewers are concerned about: the exhibition equates the destruction of Catholic art and heritage with deconstructionist art:

From The Guardian:

Art Under Attack: Histories of British Iconoclasm wants to make us think, but I found myself asking the wrong questions and drawing the wrong conclusions. The exhibition fumbles with ideas about "iconoclasm", or the deliberate destruction of art: can art vandalism be art? Is there a perverse humour or truth or beauty in a suffragette slashing Velázquez's Venus or the IRA blowing up Nelson's Pillar in Dublin?

But seeing the Chapmans' glib attacks on old art in the same show as that unforgettably moving Dead Christ, which resurfaced under the Mercers' Chapel in London in 1954, invites grim thoughts about what art is now. The Chapmans' disfiguring of portraits could only happen in a cynical moneyed art world that has no soul. They have the cash to buy oil paintings in order to trash them. Their clients find that kind of thing amusing.

I go back to the Dead Christ: a passionate work of art made to help ordinary people contemplate the biggest realities of life and death. The contrast damns the Chapmans to hell.

Tender depictions of the Virgin Mary and harrowing visions of the sufferings of Christ abound in the first few galleries of this show, in stone and wood and stained glass. All have been damaged, many almost beyond recognition. There are illuminated manuscripts with pages torn out. A painting of the inside of Canterbury Cathedral in 1657 looks innocuous until you see little Puritans patiently, precisely smashing out its stained glass windows.

These rooms offer a truly eye-opening revelation of how much great art was lost when the Protestant Word erased the Catholic image – sometimes literally, as when a painting of the Man of Sorrows had a Biblical text written over it.

But none of this has anything to do with the studiously ambivalent, pretentious way the rest of the show explores modern attacks on art. The casting down of Catholic art in the Reformation did not make that art more "interesting": it is loss, pure loss. Countless things have gone forever. Others survive as battered husks. Their destruction is tragic, to be mourned.

Metro publishes a similar review about how the exhibition confuses the viewer. The New York Times review is more positive but still a little ambivalent. The Guardian, which is the "media partner" of the exhibition, provides this slideshow of images. One of those images was featured on the cover of Eamon Duffy's great The Stripping of the Altars paperback edition.

Catholic Metaphors in Shakespeare

The Catholic English Teacher reports on a lecture by Dr. Gillian Woods, who cites one of my favorite passages from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet to demonstrate how the Bard used Catholic metaphors in his plays that would have recalled times before the English Reformation to those old enough to remember:

Romeo:

If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

Juliet:
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.

Romeo:
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

Juliet:
Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

Romeo:
O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray — grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

Juliet:
Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.

Romeo:
Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.

So while Shakespeare uses all these Catholic religious terms in the cause of romantic wooing between Romeo and Juliet, the ground of the metaphor is pilgrimage and sainthood and he knew his audience knew enough of those terms to make sense of the metaphor. Pilgrimage and devotion to the saints were definitely Catholic themes: pilgrimage sites in England had been destroyed during the course of the reigns of Henry VIII and Edward VI and devotion to saints through prayer and even visiting their shrines (which brings up the notion of relics) had been removed from English practice.

Dr. Woods has her own metaphor for these Catholic traces in Shakespeare's plays reports the blogger:

What do we make then of what she called this "residue" or "memory of the faith that had been banned and rejected"? It seems clear that there were a range of options available to people in post-Reformation England, ranging from nostalgia to fear, from hatred to acceptance. Many of these responses appear in Shakespeare's plays. In fact, many of them appear within individual plays, creating a complex picture that needs to be read in a historically informed way.

Dr Woods used a helpful metaphor in her lecture, suggesting that the ways in which Catholicism is present in Shakespeare's plays are akin to the ways in which pre-Reformation wall paintings survived in the post-Reformation Church. Many were simply removed. Some were literally defaced (in order to make it clear that the Reformed Church in England was not just a new church but a rejection of the Old Church, that it was - in some sense - still in dialogue with it). And others were whitewashed, perhaps in the hope that they might one day be uncovered, though the images still seeped through. (The definitive work on all of this is Eamon Duffy's The Stripping of the Altars.)

I like this last metaphor in particular: we can see Catholicism seeping through the language and drama of Shakespeare's plays without having to get drawn into largely fruitless discussions about his own religious inclinations.

Dr. Gillian Woods is the author of this book, Shakespeare's Unreformed Fictions, which answers the question:

Why does Catholicism have such an imaginative hold on Shakespearean drama, even though the on-going Reformation outlawed its practice? Shakespeare's Unreformed Fictions contends that the answers to this question are theatrical rather than strictly theological. Avoiding biographical speculation, this book concentrates on dramatic impact, and thoroughly integrates new literary analysis with fresh historical research.

In exploring the dramaturgical variety of the "Catholic" content of Shakespeare's plays, Gillian Woods argues that habits, idioms, images, and ideas lose their denominational clarity when translated into dramatic fiction: they are awkwardly "unreformed" rather than doctrinally Catholic. Providing nuanced readings of generically diverse plays, this book emphasises the creative function of such unreformed material, which Shakespeare uses to pose questions about the relationship between self and other. A wealth of contextual evidence is studied, including catechisms, homilies, religious polemics, news quartos, and non-Shakespearean drama, to highlight how early modern Catholicism variously provoked nostalgia, faith, conversion, humour, fear, and hatred. This book argues that Shakespeare exploits these contradictory attitudes to frame ethical problems, creating fictional plays that consciously engage audiences in the difficult leaps of faith required by both theatre and theology. By recognizing the playfulness of Shakespeare's unreformed fictions, this book offers a different perspective on the interactions between post-Reformation religion and the theatre, and an alternative angle on Shakespeare's interrogation of the scope of dramatic fiction.

Wishful Thinking? Two Ways England Could be Catholic Today!

Although the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge were safely delivered of a healthy baby boy, a couple of British publications are looking back in history at a couple of "might have been" "what if's"--what if Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon's first baby boy have survived? and what if the eldest child, not the eldest son, had been the heir?

First, from the New Statesman, by Amy Licence:

History also provides examples of royal births which illuminate the pressures experienced by queens, whose role required them to deliver the future, in a literal and metaphorical sense. Henry VIII’s marital exploits are well known, but the birth of his first son, early in his reign, is less well remembered. Following his marriage to Catherine of Aragon, in 1509, Henry began the quest to father a son which would last for the next 28 years. It was to be far more difficult to achieve than he could ever have imagined. Early in 1511, Catherine delivered a boy whom they named Henry. When the news was proclaimed, London went into celebration. Days of public rejoicing and partying followed, with bells ringing, wine flowing, cannons at the Tower booming and bonfires burning in the streets. The boy was given a magnificent christening, with jousts, pageants, feasts and tournaments: it was the second most expensive occasion of Henry’s reign, outshone only by the legendary Field of Cloth of Gold. A special gallery was built for Catherine and her ladies to watch the proceedings and it seemed as if the future of the Tudor dynasty was secure.

However, tragedy struck. Before the child was two months old, he succumbed to one of the infant illnesses of the day. Had he lived, the little prince would have become Henry IX of England. Although it is not possible to rewrite history, the implications of his imagined survival help us understand the impact of his premature death. Had this child lived, the well-known story of Henry’s six wives almost certainly would not have happened. Perhaps the course of the English Reformation would also have played out differently. There would have been no Edward VI, no Mary I or even Queen Elizabeth. The imagined reign of Henry IX is another historical “whatif” which provides a fascinating alternative path for English history; save for one small twist of fate, perhaps even an infection that may easily be cleared up by antibiotics today, it may have become established historical fact. The life and death of this tragic prince truly did shape the future of his country.

And this from the Mirror:

What if the monarch's oldest child - even if it was a girl - had always inherited the throne? Well, we could all be Catholic... and speaking German.

VICTORIA II NOT EDWARD VII

By marrying Frederick II of Prussia in 1858, Queen Victoria's oldest child, daughter Victoria, 17, became Empress of Germany and Queen of Prussia.
She would have become Britain's queen on January 21, 1901, when her mother died. But she died of breast cancer on August 5 that year.
The throne would then have gone to her son - Kaiser Wilhelm II who led Germany during the First World War.

ELIZABETH II NOT CHARLES I

If we'd let the oldest child inherit the throne 400 years ago, it could have prevented the English Civil War. On the death of James I in 1625, his daughter Elizabeth would have become queen, instead of Charles I. Her descendants were the rulers of Hanover, who later become Britain's kings - her ninth great granddaughter is the real Elizabeth II.

MARGARET I NOT HENRY VIII

After the death of Henry VII in 1509, eldest daughter Margaret Tudor could have become monarch instead of the most famous king of all, Henry VIII.
Without Henry's plea in vain for the Pope to annul his heirless marriage to Catherine of Aragon would there have been an English Reformation at all?
Margaret had married James IV of Scotland and their Stuart line ended up inheriting England's throne anyway.

ELIZABETH I NOT EDWARD V

Maybe she had a lucky escape, otherwise Elizabeth - eldest child of Edward IV, could have been murdered by her uncle (later Richard III) just like her brothers, the Princes in the Tower.
She became Queen Consort when she married Henry VII. So she was the daughter, sister, niece, wife and mother of monarchs Edward IV and V, Richard III, Henry VII and VIII.

But, as Captain James T. Kirk certainly knows, you just can't mess with the space-time continuum!

Preview of a Coming Event

 

 

I'll update you when I know for certain in which issue of StAR it will appear (there is a plan!), but I have had an article about Pope Benedict XVI and his legacy in Catholic England accepted for publication in the St. Austin Review, published by Joseph Pearce! By the way, "The St. Austin Review is the premier international journal of Catholic culture, literature, and ideas"--and this is my first submission to them. Watch this space for more details! See the archives of this journal here and the current issue here (the table of contents and a sample article from each issue).

St. Edmund Campion in St. John's Chapel, Tower of London

Fresh from his latest torture session, bereft of books or any sources but his memory and his wit, the Jesuit priest Edmund Campion debated, with other seminary priests, a group of Protestant divines on August 31, 1581. They all had a copy of his book, "Rationes Decem" and they could ask him questions, while he could only answer questions, not ask them. This was the first of four debates and was held in the Chapel of St. John in the Tower of London (image to the left from wikipedia commons).  Campion had offered the challenge to hold such debates, but perhaps had not reckoned with the fairness of the situation.

James V. Holleran recounts the story of these debates, records and reports of them in his 1999 book, A Jesuit Challenge: Edmund Campion's Debates at the Tower of London in 1581, published by Fordham University Press. As Holleran notes, Campion's "Brag" to the Queen's Council called for these debates and his "Ten Reasons" gave the debates their starting point. A brief summary of the Ten Reasons:

1. Protestants reject the parts of Scripture that don't support their doctrine.
2. Protestants distort the parts of Scripture to support their doctrine.
3. Protestants have a weak notion of the Church.
4. Protestants should accept Catholic teaching on the Mass, the Communion of Saints, and the authority of the Pope as Vicar of Christ in His Church.
5. The Fathers of the Church don't support Protestant views of the Church, the Eucharist, the Communion of Saints, and the authority of the Pope as Vicar of Christ in His Church.
6. Protestants ignore the authority of the Fathers of the Church, even of the Apostolic Fathers, since they can't find support for their doctrine in their lives and works.
7. Anticipating Blessed John Henry Newman: "To be deep in [Church] history is to cease to be a Protestant": Church History does not support Protestant doctrine of the Church, the Sacraments, the Priesthood, etc.
8. Some bad Protestant mottos (like "good works are mortal sins")
9. General weakness of Protestant arguments (as against clerical celibacy because marriage is a good thing),
10. Catholicism is the True Christian religion, the Church founded by Jesus Christ on St. Peter and the Apostles (the Pope and the Bishops as their successors): for 1500 years, everyone agreed this was true.

The plan of the debates was to go through these Reasons with the Protestants asking Campion to defend his position. The debates did not go through all the Reasons because Campion did too well defending his position and the organizers did not want to allow Campion the opportunity the argument from history. Once he had the opportunity to remind the audience at the debates of England's Catholic history: monasticism, the close relationship with the Papacy, the saints of England, the Blessed Virgin Mary, Marian devotion (Our Lady of Walsingham), St. Augustine of Canterbury sent from the Pope to Canterbury, the beauty of the churches before desecration and destruction--as Campion would say after he and the other priests had been condemned to death, "In condemning us you condemn all your own ancestors--all the ancient priests, bishops and kings--all that was once the glory of England, the island of Saints, and the most devoted child of the See of Peter. For what have we taught, however you may qualify it with the odious name of treason, that they did not uniformly teach? To be condemned with these lights--not of England only, but of the world--by their degenerate descendants, is both gladness and glory to us." Te Deum Laudamus!

Here are some more resources on St. Edmund Campion from the Jesuit Institute, including the text of his "Brag" and a link to the Ten Reasons and this prayer:

Father,
throughout the ages you inspire heroic men and women
to preach your gospel
and proclaim the truth of your love.
We pray that the example of St Edmund Campion
may encourage us to stand up for what it right;
to hold to what is true;
and to love even those who persecute us,
for Christ's sake. Amen.

The Arundells and Carmelites of Cornwall

From Tea at Trianon comes this link to "Cornwall: Land of Saints"--

Celtic monks founded a monastery at Lanherne in the 6th century the site of the present convent, which later came into the possession of the bishops and still later of the great English noble family of Arundell. The present building is the medieval Manor House of the Arundells, which is the center of Catholicism in the area. The estate provided work for many people and the family built the Medieval Church of St. Mawgan which you can see in the background of the picture above. The parish church is now in the possession of the Church of England and the convent is separated from the church property by an ancient wall.

The Arundells remained a faithful Catholic family that suffered terribly throughout the period of the English Reformation. They used the manor house to hide Catholic priests, who were in threat of certain death if captured. Not least of these courageous priests was St. Cuthbert Mayne, who was eventually captured nearby at and hung drawn and quartered at Launceston, his quarters being sent to the four corners of the realm, his head being placed on a pike. The top of his scull is in the possession of the convent and is venerated here every Sunday after Mass. One can clearly see the hole in the top of the cranium from where his head was placed on the pike.

Local historians know more or less where the hiding places for priests (priest holes) were built into the manor house walls. One of them is believed to be in the present chapel of the friars, though modern paneling currently prevents its definitive discovery.

The Manor House was also a way station along the route of the Welsh pilgrims to St. James of Compostella. The scallop shell of St. James is engraved in stone above the front door.

In 1794 the Manor House was offered by the Arundell family to a group of English Carmelite nuns who were fleeing France because of the persecution of the French Revolution. From that time until fifteen or so years ago the Manor house has been a carmelite monastery. The Franciscan Sisters of the Immaculate took it over and it remains the place of their enclosure as contemplatives consecrated unlimitedly to the Immaculate. Read the rest here.

You can read more about the Carmelites on this well-illustrated post and more about the Arundells of Cornwall here. I will never cease learning more and more about the English Reformation and the Catholic heritage of England, because this history is so rich and deep in spite of the horrors of the recusant and penal era!

Blessed John Paul II in the United Kingdom

Starting on May 28, 1982 (30 years ago!), Blessed John Paul II became the first Catholic Pope to visit Great Britain, specifically, England, Scotland and Wales. His pastoral visit was filled with celebrations of the Seven Sacraments and with ecumenical gestures, like the visits to Her Majesty the Queen and to the Archbishop of Canterbury in Canterbury Cathedral. Throughout his visit he paid tribute to the Reformation martyrs and the Catholic heritage of England and last year I posted a series on those events and homilies as a lead up to his beatification on the lst of May. Here is a digest of those posts:

On May 28, he celebrated the Sacrament of Baptism at Westminster Cathedral, during which he paid tribute to the architecture of the church building, and mentioned not only St. John Fisher and St. Thomas More, but also Bishop Richard Challoner, Vicar Apostolic during the 18th century.

He was very busy on May 29: he spoke to the religious orders, mentioning the Dissolution of the Monasteries and Mary Ward, at Roehampton; he and Robert Runcie prayed at the spot of St. Thomas a Becket's murder at Canterbury Cathedral, and he celebrated Mass at Wembley Stadium, speaking of England as Mary's Dowry and of the shrine at Walsingham.

On Pentecost, Pope John Paul celebrated the Sacrament of Confirmation at Coventry Airport on May 30th, highlighting the contributions of Cardinal John Henry Newman and of St. Boniface, two great English Catholics to emulate.

On May 31st, in Manchester, he celebrated the Sacrament of Holy Orders with a homily that mentioned the great martyr priests of the recusant era in Lancashire and highlighted the efforts of Blessed Dominic Barberi, Passionist missionary to England in the 19th century, who received Blessed John Henry Newman into the Catholic Church on October 9, 1845. He ordained 12 men that day, so hopefully there are 12 priests in Lancashire celebrating their 30th anniversaries this year on May 31! Then in York, Blessed John Paul celebrated the Sacrament of Marriage and mentioned St. Margaret Clitheroe (sic) and other martyrs of the area.

Like Pope Benedict XVI in September 2010, Blessed John Paul II visited Scotland and said Mass at Bellahouston Park on June 1, giving an overview of Catholic history in Scotland and highlighting--just as Pope Benedict did in 2010--St. John Ogilvie.

He also visited Wales, where he celebrated the Sacrament of Holy Communion and took his farewell from Great Britain from Cardiff Airport:

My pastoral visit to the countries of Britain has now come to an end. I came here as a herald of peace, to proclaim a Gospel of peace and a message of reconciliation and love. I came also as a servant - the servant of Jesus Christ, my Saviour; and the servant, too, of the Christian people. As I have travelled round England, Scotland, and finally Wales, in fulfilment of my pastoral duty to confirm my brethren, I have sought to remind Catholics of the whole saving activity of Christ, the Redeemer, our Risen Lord. In each of the countries I have also been able to meet and to pray with our brethren from other Christian communities. For these wonderful opportunities and for the friendship and brotherly welcome I have received everywhere, I give praise to God and I thank you all.
To the civic authorities of the countries and of the cities I have visited, I wish to express my deep gratitude. The help, support and cooperation you have given to the Catholic people in your areas, and the way you have made available suitable places for my pastoral visit, have reminded the world of the great blessing of mutual understanding and respect which are a part of the British inheritance. I also wish to thank the police and all those who have been responsible for public order and for the smooth running of the events of these past few days.
And now, as I prepare to return to Rome, I express once more my good wishes to all the people of Britain, and in particular to Her Majesty the Queen, especially on this the anniversary of her Coronation. As I leave you, I do so with the prayer that God may bless all the people of Wales, among whom I have spent this memorable day, I say:

Bentith duw arnoch!

You can find more of these addresses here on the Vatican website and an overview of the visit here.

One of Ours Now? Cranmer and the Ordinariate

Father Alexander Lucie-Smith posts on his perspective of Evensong, that Book of Common Prayer amalgamation of Vespers and Compline in his blog on The Catholic Herald:

Yesterday I was in a cathedral city in the south of England, and having time to spare, and because it was raining, I decided to visit the cathedral and stay for Evensong. I am, like so many in this country, familiar with Evensong; I find it both beautiful and alien at the same time. I both love it and hate it. I only go to Evensong to listen to it, never to take part.

Evensong’s beauties are the work of Coverdale and Cranmer, two men who led the revolt against the unity of the Church, and overthrew the great work of time, the historic faith of this country. Cranmer’s liturgical reforms were not reforms in any true sense, they were a wrecking of the monastic offices and their replacement with something superficially like yet utterly alien. The Cranmerian Prayer Book provoked rebellions in England, let us remember. The West Country rebels of 1549 protested that they found the Cranmerian service that replaced the Mass no more than “a Christmas game” . The Northern Rebels who entered Durham in 1569 tore up the Prayer Book and had the Mass celebrated in the Cathedral once more. In 1596 one of my collateral ancestors, the Blessed George Errington, was hanged, drawn and quartered at York, along with three others martyrs, because of his Catholic faith, a faith he and many others simply could not recognise in the Cranmerian Prayer Book.

Thus the experience of Cranmerian English leaves me feeling conflicted. I love it and I hate it, and I feel I ought to love it, as it is so beautiful, and because it has inspired so many of our great poets, not least among whom is T.S. Eliot.

On our trip to London years ago, we slipped in the back door at St. Martin-in-the-Fields and found a pew box , wincing a bit when the boards creaked, to hear Choral Evensong, already in progress. One of the sopranos had that sure and steady, glittering voice that carrries over all the rest of the voices, and the performance was beautiful, but of course we did not stay for their Communion service, so we snuck out the way we snuck in. So far, so good, I agree with Father Lucie-Smith--it is beautiful but we were a little uneasy.

Then he goes to say that with the Ordinariate, the Catholic Church in England can reclaim Thomas Cranmer because the Ordinariate is preparing the Customary of Our Lady of Walsingham, "a daily prayer book for the Ordinariate - those former Anglicans who have recently become a distinct part of the Roman Church. In creating the Ordinariate, Pope Benedict recognised the treasures that Anglicans brought with them from their own tradition and this book is replete with the riches of Anglican patrimony. It contains material from the Anglican tradition, adapted according to the Roman rite including: * an order for morning, evening and night prayer throughout the year * an interim order of the Mass * spiritual readings for the Christian year * the minor offices * calendar and lectionary tables." Thus, Father Lucie-Smith says that the Ordinariate will "posthumously reCatholicise Cranmer and reclaim him for our tradition; it will make the Cranmerian liturgy, which I find a cause of division and conflict, into something that will bring about unity. It will mean that from now on, I need not find Evensong alien. Perhaps Dr Cranmer himself would approve. I hope so! It certainly promotes the healing of a cultural and religious wound."

I think this might be a step too far; we can't posthumously proclaim that Cranmer was a Catholic underneath it all, in spite of his rejection of the Sacrifice of the Mass, of the Real Presence in the Eucharist, etc, and all the other non-Catholic doctrines he developed in the Thirty-Nine/Forty-Two Articles of the Church of England. The Ordinariate is promoting healing in the Church by recognizing the goodness and beauty that was present in the Church of England all these hundreds of years past (and is), but it can't canonize Cranmer and ignore the real hurt and wounds--the martyrs, the persecution, procecution, fines, imprisonment, torture, and the destruction of an entire culture that Cranmer set in motion by supporting Henry VIII and Edward VI, placing the monarch in the first place, at least, as the Supreme Head and Governor of the Church. Cranmer has to be allowed his own free will (although a strict Calvinist would deny it!) and maintain his own version of integrity (although I have doubts about that!); we can't change him and claim him.

The "best Catholic novel of the Twentieth Century"

Father Robert Barron states that Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisited should receive that title. Allow me to parse the phrase: It is a novel; the author is Catholic; it was written in the 20th century; it is set in the 20th century; it is about a Catholic family and the protagonist's interactions with each member of that Catholic family; it is well-written, plotted, and filled with fascinating characters; it seems to fit the bill.

Charles Ryder meets Sebastian Flyte at Christ Church in Oxford and becomes his friend (and more?); Charles becomes the lover of Julia, the confidante of Cordelia, the antagonist of both Lady Marchmain and her eldest son, Bridey (the former because of his relationship with Sebastian, particularly his aiding and abetting Sebastian's alcoholism; the latter because of his relationship with Julia, particularly his leading her into "living in sin"), and finally the witness of Lord Marchmain's reconciliation to Jesus and His Church.

Through all the evocation of Oxford, the beauty of Brideshead, the curiosity of a Catholic noble family in Anglican England, all the tangle of relationships and conflicts, Waugh stated that real theme of the novel was the operation of God's grace in the Marchmain family and by extension, Charles, as he is a member of that family. Although none of the characters achieve a worldly happy ending, each of them receives grace:

Lady Marchmain remains true to her Catholic faith: she makes mistakes in handling the faults of others around her (her husband's infidelity, her son's drunkenness, etc), but she is faithful. She is not perfectly good; but no one in the novel is perfectly bad, either. She is like Bridey, staunch and strict: we don't really like her, but she has integrity.

Lord Marchmain returns home to Brideshead and home to the Church, and through his conversion, he brings Julia back to the Church: she feels the twitch upon the thread and knows that she cannot commit adultery with Charles. Whatever else Lady Marchmain else accomplished, Julia knows her Catholic faith, like Sebastian, she has the vocabulary of Catholicism, as when she acknowledges that she cannot choose a lesser love (Charles) instead of God!

Sebastian finds grace even in his drunkenness; Cordelia, who shares some of her mother and her brother's attributes, is my favorite character in the novel. She is the one who sees the dangers Charles and Julia face and also appreciates the holiness that Sebastian finds as the doorman at a monastery in Northern Africa. I always enjoy reading the scene in which Cordelia tells Charles the story of Sebastian's life at the monastery. She sees with eyes of faith the grace that Charles misses, even in her, when she accurately states his impression of her after returning from the Spanish Civil War: "thwarted"--because then she turns the term right back on him. She has prayed for his conversion and she works for her father's return to the Faith, because Cordelia believes in heaven and wants to go there after death: she is simple and profound.

Finally, Charles himself experiences conversion: he recognizes the grace that Lord Marchmain has received, and that it is "no little thing"; through that sign of Lord Marchmain on his deathbed, Charles realizes that there is a God--and he can even accept Julia's decision with a kind of bitter regret, yet understanding. The last scene, in the chapel Lord Marchmain built for his Catholic wife, demonstrates Charles' conversion and faith.

I do think Brideshead Revisited is the best Catholic novel of the twentieth century; it may be one of the best Christian novels on the twentieth century as it depicts the providence of God working in one family's, one man's life. Waugh's special insight is that he understands the human person in the fullest Catholic sense--fallen, redeemed, receiving God's grace and love all unmerited and yet participating in that grace with free will; he depicts the sacramentality of the Catholic Christian life. And although Waugh is dealing with very serious matters--life and death; love; eternal salvation or eternal damnation--there is a brilliant sense of humor and of the absurd (Rex Motram's attempt to become Catholic; Mr. Samgrass trying to keep up with Sebastian; Charles at home with his father during the summer break, etc).

If you haven't read it, I think you should; I reread it every other year. The 1981 Granada tv series is a good supplement; avoid the recent movie adaptation like the plague, or like Mr. Samgrass.

Are You Making a List? I am. More Books.

G. W. Bernard is going where Eamon Duffy has gone before in this forthcoming book: The Late Medieval English Church Vitality and Vulnerability Before the Break with Rome. From Yale University Press (due out in May in the UK):

The later medieval English church is invariably viewed through the lens of the Reformation that transformed it. But in this bold and provocative book historian G. W. Bernard examines it on its own terms, revealing a church with vibrant faith and great energy. Bernard looks at the structure of the church, the nature of royal control over it, the clergy and bishops, the intense devotion and deep-rooted practices of the laity, anti-clerical sentiment, and the prevalence of heresy. He argues that the Reformation was not inevitable, nor made unavoidable by the defectiveness, corruption, superstition or outdatedness of a church ripe for a fall: the late medieval church had both vitality and vulnerabilities, the one often linked to the other. The result is a thought-provoking study of a church and society in transformation.

And here is a provocative title: Heretic Queen: Queen Elizabeth I and the Wars of Religion, by Susan Ronald due out in August from St. Martin's Press:

Elizabeth’s 1558 coronation procession was met with an extravagant outpouring of love. Only twenty-five years old, the young queen saw herself as their Protestant savior; aiming to provide the nation with new hope, prosperity, and independence from the foreign influence that had plagued her sister Mary’s reign. Given the scars of the Reformation, Elizabeth would need all of the powers of diplomacy and tact she could summon. Extravagant, witty, and hot-tempered, Elizabeth was the ultimate tyrant. Yet at the outset, in religious matters, she was unfathomably tolerant for her day. “There is only one Christ, Jesus, one faith,” Elizabeth once proclaimed. “All else is a dispute over trifles.” Heretic Queen is the highly personal, untold story of how Queen Elizabeth I secured the future of England as a world power. Susan Ronald paints the queen as a complex character whose apparent indecision was really a political tool that she wielded with great aplomb.

Summer School, 2012

Going to this summer school would certainly be no punishment:

Why not join us and students of Thomas More College this summer in a two-week course, based in Oxford and the West country, on the question of Catholic identity and the vocation of the Catholic writer? We also touch on the deeper question of what it means to be human, how a vision of humanity was imperilled by the English Reformation which helped to create the modern world, and how the Literary Revival (from Newman to Tolkien) tried to recover and reclaim it. . . .

After a week at Downside, where we will have the opportunity to participate in daily Mass and the Divine Office, we will proceed to Oxford, where we will stay at St Benet’s, a Private Hall of the University and also a Benedictine house. There we will learn about the pivotal role of Oxford in the history of British Christianity, from its time as a recusant centre to the revival of Catholic culture in the 19th century with the Oxford Movement, Blessed John Henry Cardinal Newman and 20th century writers such as Chesterton, Greene, and Waugh. We will also look at the influence of the Inklings, particularly C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, and visit sites associated with them as well as with Newman. Finally we will visit the capital, paying our respects near the remains of St Thomas More in the Tower of London and visiting Westminster Abbey and the newly reconstructed Globe Theatre, where Shakespeare’s plays were once performed.

More about the schedule this August here.

How I Wish I Could Attend!!

Father Dwight Longenecker promotes this "English Catholicism Day Conference" to be held at his parish church, Our Lady of the Rosary. Joanna Bogle and Joseph Pearce will be the special guests on Saturday, January 21, in a day-long, packed down and overflowing day of presentations, prayer, and fellowship:

8:30 a.m. - Registration and Refreshments
9:00 - Deacon Ballard - Opening Comments - Why English Catholicism is Important for Americans Today
9:15 - Fr Longenecker - Merry Ole' England - Life in the English Middle Ages
9:45 - Joanna Bogle - Feasts and Seasons - How to Celebrate the Catholic Faith English Style
10:30 - Break
10:45 - Joseph Pearce - The Jolly Prophet - The Importance of G.K. Chesterton Today
11:30 - Fr Longenecker - C.S. Lewis and J.R.R.Tolkien - Conversion and Catholicism
12:00 noon - Lunch - Book Signings
12:45 p.m. - Holy Rosary Before the Image of Our Lady of Walsingham
1:15 - Joseph Pearce - Searching for Shakespeare - Was Shakespeare Catholic?
2:00 - Break
2:15 - Joanna Bogle - Catholicism in Tension - The Catholic Church in Britain Today
3:00 - Plenary Session - Questions
3:15 - Deacon Ballard - Closing Comments
3:30 - Departure
4:00 - Confessions, Eucharistic Adoration and Benediction
5:15 - Parish Vigil Mass

I would really like to attend, but alas, flights, prices, schedules, and life won't allow it! If you are in the area, you really should go.

Firmly I Believe and Truly, It's My Birthday!

And here is my birthday present from my husband!

"The Spiritual Tradition of Catholic England, An Anthology of Writings from 1483 to 1999" is obviously not a book to be read straight through, but to be dipped into, sampled, and surveyed often. I want to read the Introductions to the three parts first and then consult some of the extracts from both familiar and new writers.

[BTW, his other gift to me is a DVD of Kung Fu Panda 2, in which Po searches for inner peace!]

St. Birinus and St. Osmund

John Whitehead reminds us of two saints: St. Birinus (at Dorchester on Thames) and St. Osmund (at Salisbury Cathedral):

St Birinus, whose feast it is today [December 5], was the missionary bishop who evangelised the mid-Thames valley and later the Kingdom of Wessex. He died in 649 0r 650. Originally buried at Dorcherster on Thames his relics were later tranlated to Winchester, although there were relics and a shrine, of which part remains in a modern reconstruction, at Dorchester. This served as the site of the of a cathedral until 1072 when the cathedra of the united east-midland dioceses was established at Lincoln.

The former cathedral, which retained for some time pro-cathedral status, was refounded as an Augustinian priory, now known as Dorchester Abbey, and its surviving church is one of the most interesting examples of a medium-sized monastic building and its gradual eveolution. It has some wonderful medieval glass and carving, both on the building itself and in the fine selection of tomb effigies.

More on Dorchester Abbey here and more on the Catholic church in Dorchester here.

and

Were today not Sunday [December 4] it would be the feast of St Osmund, Bishop of Salisbury, who died in 1099, but was only canonised in 1457 - the last pre-reformation recognition of sanctity for an English saint. There is an online life of him here.

The cathedral he knew at Old Sarum was replaced in the thirteenth century by the present Salisbury cathedral, and it was there that his bones were enshrined, and to that building that my thoughts turn. Or rather to some of its features which were destroyed in the eighteenth century. Regular readers of this blog will be aware of my revulsion at the destruction of historic and beautiful buildings and monuments, and here is another example of what shocks me.

At the end of the 1780s the Chapter of Salisbury called in as their architect James Wyatt. Now as an exponent of Neo-Classicism he was fine - witness the library at Oriel built in 1788. Let loose on a medieval cathedral he was lethal. Durham, Hereford and Salisbury bear witness to his ravages. If at Hereford he had in part the excuse of the collapse of the west tower in 1786, and at Durham his schemes were stopped short of destroying the Galilee Chapel, at Salisbury there seems to be neither excuse nor restraint.

Demolishing two later Hungerford and Beauchamp chantry chapels of 1464 and 1481 which flanked the Trinity Chapel at the east end can, I suppose, be explained, but not excused, as restoring the original configuration of the eastern chapels. . . .

More on St. Osmund of Salisbury here.