Review: Volume 9 - Spanish Inquisition

Review: Volume 9 - Spanish Inquisition

In 1492, seeking to consolidate their power and free themselves from the Vatican, King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Spain turned to the Dominican priest Tomas de Torquemada, who proposed an Inquisition. Following the defeat of the Moors of Granada, tens of thousands of Muslims were given the choice between converting to Christianity or facing death or banishment. James Reston's compelling narrative brings all of the horrors of the Spanish Inquisition into a terrifying brutal focus.

The mentality of Spain's Inquisitors has fascinated people for centuries. Yet remarkably little has been written about these individuals, who together condemned thousands of people to degradation, imprisonment and death. John Edwards, a renowned expert on the Spanish Inquisition, investigates the Inquisitors-General, both as personalities - psychopaths to soulless bureaucrats - and as actors in the turbulent history of Spain between 1480, when the Inquisition started work, and its final abolition in 1834. The Inquisitors is the story of extraordinary religious personalities, and a history of Spain at a deep psychological level.


The Jews and the Spanish Inquisition (1622-1721)

"The Jews and the Spanish Inquisition (1622-1721)" is an article from The Jewish Quarterly Review, Volume 15.

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During the Colonial era, the Spanish restricted the entrance of other Europeans, however, some non-Spanish Europeans were present. In 1556, the English adventurer Robert Thomson encountered the Scotsman Tomás Blaque (Thomas Blake), who had been living in Mexico City for more than twenty years. [3] Blaque is the first known Briton to have settled in what would become Mexico. [4]

During his third voyage, the ship commanded by John Hawkins of Plymouth escaped destruction at the Battle of San Juan de Ulúa (1568). However, after becoming lost in the Gulf of Mexico and with a bloated crew, Hawkins abandoned more than one hundred men near Tampico. [5] A group of the men went north (including David Ingram), while the rest went south and were captured by the Spanish. Notable among this group was Miles Philips who wrote a narrative detailing his and the other Englishmen's struggles. They were taken to Mexico City, given care at a hospital and imprisoned. After attempting to escape, they were sold as servants or slaves. [5] Some were able to accumulate wealth by rising to the position of overseers at mines and other operations. However, after the establishment of the Mexican Inquisition, the men were stripped of any wealth and imprisoned as Lutheran heretics. Three of the men were burned, while some sixty were given penance. [5]

In southern Baja California Sur, a few families retain the English surname "Green". This surname was established to be descended from Esteban (Steven) Green, an English whaler that settled in the region in 1834 after migrating from the United Kingdom. [6]

The first great power that recognized the independence of Mexico was the United Kingdom in 1824, shortly after the sale of mines from Pachuca and Real del Monte occurred. The majority of migrants to this region came from what is now termed the Cornish "central mining district" of Camborne and Redruth. Real del Monte's steep streets, stairways and small squares are lined with low buildings and many houses with high sloping roofs and chimneys which indicate a Cornish influence. Mexican remittances from these miners helped to build the Wesleyan Chapel in Redruth.

The Panteón de Dolores, which became the largest cemetery in Mexico, was founded in 1875 by Juan Manuel Benfield, the son of Anglican immigrants. Benfield fulfilled his father's goal of creating a cemetery after his sister was refused burial in Catholic cemeteries and had to be interred at a beach. [7]

According to the 1895 National Census, 3,263 residents were from the United Kingdom. [8]

The twin silver mining settlements of Pachuca and Real del Monte are being marketed as of 2007 as 'Mexico's Little Cornwall' by the Mexican Embassy in London and represent the first attempt by the Spanish speaking part of the Cornish diaspora to establish formal links with Cornwall. The Mexican Embassy in London is also trying to establish a town twinning arrangement with Cornwall. In 2008 thirty members of the Cornish Mexican Cultural Society travelled to Mexico to try and re-trace the path of their ancestors who set off from Cornwall to start a new life in Mexico. [9]

The Cornish introduced institutionalized football to Mexico. [10] A plaque was placed at the site of the first game in Real del Monte. The English also introduced other popular sports such as rugby union, tennis, cricket, polo, and chess. Football clubs founded by Britons included the British Club, Rovers FC Mexico and Reforma Athletic Club. The most successful club founded by Britons is C.F. Pachuca.

Cuisine Edit

The paste is a pastry with Cornish roots. Introduced by miners from Cornwall who were contracted in the towns of Real del Monte and Pachuca in Hidalgo. [11] The Cornish miners may have also introduced the turnip to Mexico. [12]

There were 3,589 UK-born residents in Mexico recorded during the 2010 census, up from the 3,172 individuals counted in the 2000 census. [13] The census only requests place of birth (administrative division or country), the government does not ask its citizens for ancestry nor additional citizenship. According to the British Embassy in Mexico, there were about 15,000 British citizens living in Mexico. [14]

British immigrants established several institutions of their own, among others:


Review: Volume 9 - Spanish Inquisition - History

Dr John Reuben Davies (University of Glasgow)

Assistant Editor

Dr Linden Bicket (University of Edinburgh)

Reviews Editor

Dr Miles Kerr-Peterson (University of Glasgow)
Please send books for review to Miles Kerr-Peterson, c/o 45 Grovepark Street, Glasgow, G20 7NZ

Editorial Board

Professor Dauvit Broun (University of Glasgow)
Professor S. J. Brown (University of Edinburgh)
Professor Thomas Owen Clancy (University of Glasgow)
Professor David N. Dumville (University of Aberdeen)
Professor John J. Haldane (University of St Andrews)
Professor Máire Herbert (University College, Cork)
Dr S. Karly Kehoe (Saint Mary's University, Canada)
Professor Michael Lynch (University of Edinburgh)
Professor Graeme Morton (University of Dundee)
Professor Clotilde Prunier (Université Paris Nanterre)
Dr Steven Reid (University of Glasgow)
Professor Daniel Szechi (University of Manchester)
Dr Eila Williamson (University of Glasgow)

Society

The Scottish Catholic Historical Association promotes the study of Scotland's religious past in all its facets. It does this primarily through its journal The Innes Review which has been published continuously since 1950.

The Innes Review is dedicated to the study of the part played by the Catholic Church in the history of the Scottish nation. It is named after Thomas Innes (1662-1744), a missionary priest, historian and archivist of the Scots College in Paris whose impartial scholarship and helpful cooperation did much to overcome the denominational prejudices of his age.

The Scottish Catholic Historical Association holds annual conferences. Please click here for further information on the Association conferences. Previous conferences have focused on 'Glasgow - a story worth telling' (2008), 'Diaspora' (2009) and 'Liturgy and the Nation' (2010).'

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Reviews

R.H. HAIGH, D.S. MORRIS, and A.R. PETERS. The Years of Triumph? German Diplomatic and Military Policy, 1933–1941. Totowa, N.J.: Barnes and Noble Books, 1986. Pp. 325. $34.95 (US). Reviewed by Gerhard L. Weinberg

MICHAEL MANN. The Sources of Social Power. Volume I: A History of Power from the Beginning to A.D. 1760. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1986. Pp. ix, 541. $59.50 (US) pap. $18.95 (us). Reviewed by Peter G. Stillman

MICHAEL P. COSTELOE, Response to Revolution: Imperial Spain and the Spanish American Revolutions, 1810–1840. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1986. Pp. xii, 272. $39.50 (US). Reviewed by Richard J. Salvucci

STEIN UGELVIK LARSEN, BERNT HAGTVET, and JAN FETTER MYKLEBUST, eds. Who Were the Fascists?: Social Roots of European Fascism. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1981 distributed in Canada by Oxford University Press, 1986. Pp. 816. $119.75 (Can.). Reviewed by Lawrence D. Stokes

EMILIO WILLEMS. A Way of Life and Death: Three Centuries of Prussian-German Militarism, An Anthropological Approach. Nashville, Tenn.: Vanderbilt University Press, 1986. Pp. x, 226. Pap., $12.95 (us). Reviewed by Martin Kitchen

CLAUDE BISSELL. The Imperial Canadian: Vincent Massey in Office. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1986. Pp. xii, 361. $27.50 (Can.). Reviewed by Robert Craig Brown

FRANCESCO GUIDA. L'Italia e il Risorgimento balcanico: Marco Antonio Canini. Rome: Edizioni dell'Ateneo, 1984. No price available. Reviewed by Nicholas Bufalino

ROSEMARY THORP, ed. Latin America in the igsos: The Role of the Periphery in the World Crisis. New York: St Martin's Press, 1984. Pp. xii, 344. $32.50 (US). Reviewed by Ronald C. Newton

A.I. BAGIS. Britain and the Struggle for the Integrity of the Ottoman Empire: Sir Robert Ainslie's Embassy to Istanbul, 1776–1794. Istanbul: Isis Yayimcilik, 1984. Pp. xv, 165. Reviewed by Edward Ingram

HAROLD JAMES. The German Slump: Politics and Economics 1924–1936. New York: Oxford University Press, 1986. Pp. xvi, 469. $57.00 (US). Reviewed by Roger Fletcher

DANIEL M. CRANE and THOMAS A. BRESLIN. An Ordinary Relationship: American Opposition to Republican Revolution in China. Gainesville: University Presses of Florida, 1986. Pp. xxii, 225. $25.00 (us).Reviewed by James I. Matray

BERNARD SEMMEL. Liberalism and Naval Strategy: Ideology, Interest, and Sea Power during the Pax Britannica. Boston: Allen and Unwin, 1986. Pp. sxii, 239. Cloth: $34.95 (US) pap. $14.95 (US). Reviewed by Bruce Collins

RICHARD A. BEST. ‘Cooperation with Like-Minded Peoples’: British Influence on American Security Policy, 1945–1949. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1986. Pp. 226. $32.95 (us). Reviewed by Melvyn P. Leffler

DIANA GREENWAY, CHRISTOPHER HOLDSWORTH and JANE SAYERS, eds., Tradition and Change: Essays in Honour of Marjorie Chibnall Presented by her Friends on the Occasion of her Seventieth Birthday. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985. Pp. 412. Reviewed by C. Warren Hollister


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1. For several references to the Revolution in messianic-redemptive and revelatory terms, see Marrus , Michael , The Politics of Assimilation: A Study of the French Jewish Community at the Time of the Dreyfus Affair ( Oxford , 1971 ), pp. 90 – 92 , 106–107.Google Scholar Among the works that emphasized the dramatic changes introduced by the Revolution, see Lambert , Lion-Mayer , Précis de I' histoire des hébreux depuis leparriarche Abraham jusqu' en 1840 ( Metz, 1840 ). esp. pp. 406 – 407 Google Scholar Kahn , Leon , Les Juifs de Paris ( Paris, 1898 ), p. 356 Google Scholar and the triumphalist remarks of Simon Debre , Rabbi , “The Jews of France,” Jewish Quarterly Review 3 ( 1891 ): 367 – 435 .CrossRefGoogle Scholar On the general tendency to use the Revolution for political purposes, see Hobsbawm , Eric , “Mass-Producing Traditions, 1870–1914,” in The Invention of Tradition, ed. Eric , Hobsbawm and Terrence Ranger ( Cambridge , 1983 ), pp. 270 – 273 .Google Scholar On the Revolution as myth, see Gérard , Alice , La Révolution: mythes et interprétations, 1789–1975 ( Paris, 1976 ).Google Scholar

2. The role of the French Revolution as an agent of change in modern European society is still fiercely contested even after two centuries. According to the conventional view, it was one of history's pivotal events, an upheaval which triggered decisive changes in political, social, and economic life, first in France, and subsequently in the rest of Europe. All vestiges of feudalism were swept away, peasants were freed from ecclesiastical tithes and seigneurial dues, and free trade was established throughout the territories under French control, while autonomous corporations were abolished, local and provincial privileges were curtailed, and a new democratic tradition emerged. However, beginning with de Tocqueville's assertion of continuity in political behavior and attitudes before and after the Revolution, a tendency to minimize the historical significance of the events of 1789 has gained in strength and may today be dominant. Georges Lefebvre concluded that the economic impact of the Revolution, particularly with respect to agrarian reform, had been greatly overstated, and for many scholars specializing in social history, the pace of modernization, and not the Revolution, was the decisive factor. Data cited by Maurice Agulhon and Eugen Weber concerning the steadfast traditionalism of vast sectors of the rural population throughout most of the nineteenth century suggest how ineffectual the Revolution was in the countryside. Others point to extensive indications of social change before 1789, claiming that modernization in France, ironically, may very well have been interrupted by the Revolution. Most recently, Simon Schama has added to this last argument the claim that the legacy we normally associate with the Revolution was already represented at the highest levels of French society before 1789. The “great period of change,” according to Schama, “was not the Revolution but the late eighteenth century.” See de Tocqueville , Alexis , L' Ancien regime et la revolution ( Paris, 1856 )Google Scholar Lefebvre , Georges , “La place de la Revolution dans l' histoire agraire de la France,” Annales d' histoire economique et sociale 1 ( 1929 ): 506 – 523 .CrossRefGoogle Scholar Agulhon , Maurice , La Republique an village ( Paris, 1970 )Google Scholar Weber , Eugen , Peasants into Frenchmen: The Modernization of Rural France, 1870–1914 ( Stanford , 1976 )Google Scholar and Schama , Simon , Citizens: A Chronicle of the French Revolution ( New York , 1989 ), esp. pp. xv, 184 – 185 .Google Scholar On political culture in revolutionary France, see Hunt , Lynn , Politics, Culture, and Class in the French Revolution ( Berkeley , 1984 ).Google Scholar For an excellent review of the literature on the role of the Revolution in the countryside, see McPhee , Peter , “The French Revolution, Peasants, and Capitalism,” American Historical Review 94 ( 1989 ): 1265–1280.CrossRefGoogle Scholar

3. The remarkable degree of uniformity present in Jewish communal life throughout western and central Europe until the mid-eighteenth century provides the basis for a comparative approach to the changes that would soon transform European society. Precisely what triggered the breakdown of traditional Jewish life, and just when that break occurred, remains the subject of much scholarly debate. For a rich array of sources indicating a decline in religious observance in the early part of the eighteenth century, see Shohet , Azriel , The Beginnings of the Haskalah in Germany [Heb.] ( Jerusalem , 1960 ).Google Scholar Shohhet's work evoked considerable criticism cf. Mevorakh's , Barukh review in Kiryat Sefer 37 ( 1961 /62): 150 – 155 ,Google Scholar and Katz , Jacob , Out of the Ghetto: The Social Background of Jewish Emancipation, 1770–1870 ( Cambridge , Mass. , 1973 ), pp. 34 – 36 .Google Scholar Cf. Baron , Salo W. , “New Approaches to Jewish Emancipation,” Diogenes 29 ( 1960 ): 57 – 58 .Google Scholar

4. Hyman , Paula , “L' Impact de la Revolution sur I' identite et la culture contemporaine des Juifs d' Alsace,” in Histoire politique des Juifs de France: Entre universalisme et particularisme, ed. Pierre , Birnbaum ( Paris, 1990 ), p. 29 .Google Scholar

5. See Meyer , Michael A. , Jewish Identity in the Modem World ( Seattle , 1990 ), esp. pp. 3 – 9 .Google Scholar On trends in Germany, see Lowenstein , Steven M. , “The Pace of Modernisation of German Jewry in the Nineteenth Century,” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book 21 ( 1976 ): 41 – 56 .CrossRefGoogle Scholar Initially, the term “secularization” was used to describe the transfer of church property to state control. It has also been used to refer to the decline in religious observance, and to the failure of religious rituals and symbols to answer questions about the meaning of life. Our use of the term will draw on its original meaning, i.e., expropriation-not with respect to property, but to domain or authority. Employing the tools of sociology, Peter Berger has made several important contributions to our understanding of secularization. Cf. The Sacred Canopy (Garden City, N.Y., 1969) and 77ie Heretical Imperative (New York, 1979). For several examples of specialized studies which are particularly useful, see Kselman , Thomas , “Funeral Conflicts in Nineteenth-Century France,” Comparative Studies in Society and History 30 ( 1988 ): 312 – 332 , esp. 328–330CrossRefGoogle Scholar Vernon Lidtke, “Social Class and Secularization in Imperial Germany-the Working Classes,” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book 25 (1980): 21–40 Wilson , Bryan , “Secularization: The Inherited Model,” in The Sacred in a Secular Age, ed. Philip , E. Hammond ( Berkeley , 1985 ), pp. 9 – 20 .Google Scholar

6. For a recent study devoted to this subject, see Parker , Noel , Portrayals of the Revolution: Images, Debates and Patterns of Thought on the French Revolution ( Carbondale , 111., 1990 ).Google Scholar

7. The distinction between “culture” and “identity” requires some clarification. By “culture” we are referring to public, socially established structures of meaning in terms of which people behave. See Geertz , Clifford , The Interpretation of Cultures ( New York , 1973 ), pp. 12 , 89. Denoting any historically transmitted system of thought, belief, and values, culture is expressed in symbolic forms. “Identity,” by contrast, lacks the dimension of continuity associated with culture. It is the consciousness or self-reflection resulting from a confrontation with the realities of the day and is therefore given to more frequent shifts and mutations its contours are shaped by significant events, ideological currents, and social forces. Nevertheless, “identity” and “culture” are not independent entities, but act reciprocally upon one another. Manifestations of identity are all potential forms of culture, especially when institutionalization transforms them from ephemeral to more lasting expressions. They may also represent an orientation that can predispose individuals to greater or lesser receptivity to a particular cultural legacy. “Culture,” by the same token, can serve as the basis upon which identity is constructed and may influence the forms of its expression. Prior to the Revolution, identity flowed evenly from Jewish culture. Questions of identity were far less pressing, if at all relevant, in an age when Jews lived in an insular cultural environment where a consensus on values prevailed. With the Revolution and the ensuing encounter with modernity, culture and identity were split apart. As connections to Jewish culture became somewhat attenuated, issues of identity became increasingly compelling.Google Scholar

8. The Prague community's inclination toward western traditions has been noted by Eric Zimmer, “Relations of German Jewry to Influences of the Center in Poland in the Early Seventeenth Century” [Heb.], Sinai 102 (1988): 233. Although the precise nature of the bond with Prague is still unclear, we may note that most of the rabbis who served Metz in the eighteenth century had previously held positions in Prague, including Gabriel Eskeles (1694–1703) Abraham Broda (d. 1713) Jacob Reischer (1719–33) Jonathan Eibeschutz (1742–49). Others, such as Shmuel Hilman, a native of Krotoschin, first went to study in the Prague yeshiva and then held rabbinic positions in Moravia and Germany before coming to Metz. This was also the case for Rabbis David Sintzheim and Moses Munius, both descendants of Prague families, who studied in Prague before assuming positions in Alsace. On westward migrations from Poland, see Moses Shulvass, From East to West (Detroit, 1971).

9. For evidence of strong ties between the Jews of Poland and the Jews of France, see Bartal , Israel , “Polish Jews in Southwest Europe in the Middle of the Eighteenth Century,” in Changes in Modern Jewish History: Essays Presented to Shmuel Ettinger [Heb.] ( Jerusalem , 1988 ), pp. 413 – 437 . On their own, these ties do not prove that Metz and Poland were part of the same cultural orbit. The claim of cultural affinity will require additional evidence of shared minhagim, halakhic views, liturgical rites, and linguistic similitude.Google Scholar

10. The practice of leaving home to engage in Torah study was a time-honored tradition intended to broaden the intellectual horizons of budding scholars, and rabbinic literature consistently endorsed the custom approvingly. The phenomenon of the wandering yeshiva student in the medieval period has recently been treated by Breuer , Mordecai , “Wandering Students and Scholars-A Prolegomenon to a Chapter in the History of the Yeshivot” [Heb.], in Culture and Society in Medieval Jewry: Studies Dedicated to the Memory of Haim Hillel Ben-Sasson, ed. Menahem , Ben-Sasson , Robert Bonfil, and Joseph Hacker ( Jerusalem , 1989 ), pp. 445–468.Google Scholar

11. According to Eibeshutz , R. Jonathan , superior conditions in the West account for the influx of Polish yeshiva students to Melz. See the statement in his sermon of Av 5509 (1749), published in Ya' arot Devash, 2 vols. ( Jerusalem , 1984 –85), vol. 2, p. 121 . The linkage between economic prosperity and cultural prominence is also argued by Samuel Kerner, “La Vie quotidienne de la communaute juive de Metz au dix-huitieme siecle” (These de Doctorat de 3eme Cycle, Universite de Paris, 1977–79), p. 3. The situation in Metz contrasted sharply with conditions in Germany at mid-century. Yeshiva students in Frankfurt complained of not being fed, while the Mainz community was forced to limit its support to four poor yeshiva students. See Shohet, Beginnings of Haskalah, p. 112.Google Scholar

12. The biography of Issachar Berr Carmoly (1735–1781) vividly exemplifies the pattern of movement and the adventurism of his Alsatian peers. A native of Ribeauville, he attended the local yeshiva and was subsequently sent to Metz to study under R. Jonathan Eibeschiltz. After three years in Metz, having received the title haver (indicating the completion of the first level of rabbinic studies), he was invited by his great uncle, R. Jacob Poppers, av beit dinof Frankfurt am Main, to study there and become acquainted with the German branch of the family. In Frankfurt, Carmoly became a student of R. Jacob Joshua Falk, author of the P' nei Yehoshua, but after a year, returned to Metz, resumed his studies with Eibeschiitz, and then with R. Shmuel Hilman, Eibeschiltz's successor, from whom the young scholar received the title rav haver. From there he went to FUrth and studied under R. David Strauss. Carmoly subsequently returned to Nancy, married the daughter of a wealthy pamas of Soultz, and through the influence of his father-in-law was appointed av beit din. Some years later, he established a yeshiva in neighboring Jungholtz. Carmoly was the author of numerous works of rabbinic scholarship, all of which are in manuscript, with the exception of Yam Issachar on Tosefta Beiza (Metz, 1768). See Carmoly , Eliakim , “Issachar Carmoly,” Revue orientale 2 ( 1842 ): 345 – 349 , 3 (1843–44): 240–244. Shlomo Lvov, another itinerant student originally from Mannheim, studied first in Alsace, then Fiirth, before coming to Metz. He lived in Alsace for the remainder of his life. See the introduction to his Heshek Shlomo, ms.Google Scholar (Dittwiller, 1784), Institute of Hebrew Manuscripts, Jerusalem, no. 8° 3394. Yedidiah (Tiah) Weil (1721–1805), whose father Netanel (author of Korban Netanel) had studied in Metz under R. Abraham Broda, came to the Metz yeshiva himself in 1745 after the Prague expulsion, but returned to Prague, as did most other former Jewish residents, when the order was rescinded in 1748. The institutional framework most directly responsible for the nurturing of scholarly traditions and religious norms was, of course, the yeshiva. Regrettably, no scholarly treatment of the yeshivot of Alsace-Lorraine has yet been undertaken. Bischeim, Bouxwiller, Ettendorf, Mutzig, Nancy, Niedemai, Ribeauville', and Jungholtz are several of the small academies that dotted the terrain of the region. For rare information on the founding of one these academies, see Blum , Raphael , “Le fondateur du grand Beth Hamidrash de Bouxwiller,” Univers israeilite 35 ( 1879 ): 85 – 88 , 112–114. Heading these yeshivot were impressive, though not very well-known, talmudists, including R. Stlssel Moyse Enosch, Issachar Berr Carmoly, Wolf Jacob Reichshoffen, Yizhak Netter, Itzik Phalsbourg, and Abraham Isaac LunteschUtz. Each has left novellae,which together contain rich material for a history of rabbinic learning in pre-revolutionary Alsace-Lorraine. Until this literature, most of which is in manuscript, is studied carefully, it will be impossible to make any definitive judgments concerning the nature of the local scholarly and popular traditions. For an illustration of the exclusively Alsatian character of the body of students at the yeshiva of Ribeauville, see the list published in Carmoly, “Issachar Carmoly,” pp. 346–347.Google Scholar

13. See the observations of Israel, European Jewry in the Age of Mercantilism, p. 237.


Review: Volume 9 - Spanish Inquisition - History

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Gary Polland
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First let's be clear, the Harvey historic flood was going to be a problem even if we had gotten everything right, because of the biblical scale we suffered.

Both the City of Houston and Harris County are talking about spending a lot of money to deal with our problems. Great, but before we jump let's make sure we have a well thought out, regional approach to flooding, restricting development in the flood plain and other critical issues.

Let's take a closer look at Mayor Turner 's plan to raise taxes. The Mayor wants an emergency property tax increase of 8.9% and that's on top of the appraisal increases already built-in for most homeowner property taxes.

The big problem is it appears he is following Rahm Emmanuel 's motto as Chief of Staff to President Obama , "never allow a crisis to go to waste."

Some questions that need to be answered and haven't yet:

    The request is for emergency funding to meet FEMA city's share, yet according to a City of Houston insider, the funding from tax increases will not be available until the Spring of 2018. So why now?

As Ronald Reagan said, "trust but verify." In this matter the city needs to prove we should trust them before giving them even more money to spend.

As for Harris County, Judge Emmett is correct that you need to reexamine: the region's flood control strategy, upgrading of aging dams, building a new storm water reservoir and ramping up regulations to control development in flood-prone areas. With a solid regional plan, taxpayers and developers are prepared to do their part after we review county spending and figure out how much is needed after a reallocation of county funds from non-propriety spending.

Senator Ted Cruz - Flat, Simple, Fair
Income Tax Reform Great For America

Almost all Conservatives agree that fundamental tax reform is needed for the good of the country and for keeping our promises to the American people. Texas Senator Ted Cruz recently outlined seven critical elements of fundamental tax reform, so here are his great ideas:

    Create a Low Flat Rate . Currently there are seven individual tax brackets with rates as high as nearly 40 percent. We should have one low flat tax rate.

Senator Cruz's plan will get our economy booming, create better jobs for our people and strengthen America.

Conservatives In America,
Like Marranos In Medieval Spain
Guest Commentary By Dennis Prager

For those unfamiliar with the term, Marranos was the name given to Jews in medieval Spain, especially in the fifteenth century during the Spanish Inquisition, who secretly maintained their Judaism while living as Catholics in public.

There is, of course, no Spanish Inquisition in America today - no one is being tortured into confessing what they really believe, and no one is being burned at the stake. But there are millions of Marrano-like Americans: Americans who hold conservative views - especially those who hold to conservative positions on social issues and those who voted for Donald Trump for president.

Millions of Americans who hold conservative and/or pro-Trump views rationally fear being ostracized by their peers, public humiliation, ruined reputations, broken families, losing their job, and being unable to work in their field. Under these circumstances, they have decided that coming out as conservative or pro-Trump is not worth the persecution they would.

In terms of the percentage of the population affected, there is no parallel in American history. Coming out as a homosexual prior to the 1960s-70s, or publicly announcing that one was member of the Communist Party in the 1950s would have often led to similar dire consequences in one's social, work and family life. But gays and Communist Party members comprised a tiny percentage of the American population. And one of them, Communists, supported true evil.

I wish I could share all the emails sent to me from professional musicians who play in some of the premier orchestras of America. They wrote to me following the nationally publicized attempts by left-wing members of the orchestra and of the Santa Monica city government to prevent me from conducting: they publicly called on members of the Santa Monica Symphony Orchestra to refuse to play, and members of the public to refuse to attend, when I conducted a Haydn symphony at the Walt Disney Concert Hall three weeks ago.

These emails were written to encourage me, and to tell me how they are compelled to hide their conservative views - how they live, in effect, as Marranos.

A violist with one of the most prestigious orchestras in the country (I figured out which orchestra using the Internet she was afraid to tell even me) wrote to me last week about how quiet she is about her conservatism. While she could not be fired for it, she said, she would be socially ostracized within the orchestra with which she has played for decades.

Another middle-aged professional musician told me that he wears his hair very long in order to appear hippie-like as a decoy to camouflage his conservative politics. He is no more likely to tell fellow musicians that he supports President Trump than a Marrano in medieval Spain would have gone public with his Jewish beliefs.

And here's part of an email to me from a musician in Minnesota: "I was a professional musician from the age of 17. I wanted you to know that I, too, lost my career because of my views. My choice, actually I just could no longer take the abuse."

I'm fortunate. As a radio talk-show host and columnist, I'm paid to express my opinions. And as to my avocation of conducting orchestras, I'm lucky there, too. Because the permanent conductor of the Santa Monica Symphony and the orchestra's board remained principled, and because so many people support me and my values, the efforts to thwart me failed. Disney Hall, all 2,000-plus seats, was sold out - a first for a community orchestra in that venue.

Of course, American conservative Marranos don't only live in the world of music. They are in every profession. We know about the high-profile cases, the conservatives whose careers have been ruined by saying the "wrong" thing or supporting the "wrong" candidate or ballot proposition we know about the conservative speakers who have been physically attacked and prevented from speaking on college campuses. But we don't know about the millions who are just afraid to speak up, who remain silent in a business meeting or at a dinner party when someone casually expresses a view that they strongly disagree with. These Americans live in fear, legitimately so in many cases, that if they do speak out, there will be severe consequences - a job lost, a promotion not given, even a child who will no longer speak to them.

This is all new in our country.

Had anyone ever predicted that in America - the land renowned more than any other for liberty and free speech - the word "Marrano" would ever accurately characterize any of its citizens, let alone close to half the voting population, that individual would have been regarded as a charlatan.

But, given the intolerance and hatred on the left and its dominance over almost every area of American life, such an individual would have been a prophet.

This column was originally posted on Townhall.com.

TCR Comment : Dennis Prager is a longtime friend, nationwide radio host on the Salem Network and in Houston on AM 1070. He is also a best selling author. Dennis is a thoughtful conservative whose commentaries are most insightful.

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The Twisted Roots of Hispanic Anti-Semitism

In Caracas in 2006, after the Venezuelan president, Hugo Chávez, the most vocal anti-American leader in the Southern Hemisphere since Fidel Castro, delivered a speech against the Israeli incursion into Lebanon, anti-Semitic graffiti were scribbled on the central Sephardic synagogue. “Zionism=Terrorism,” one slogan read. Another, “Jews Assassins.” The periodicals Diario Vea and Temas Venezuela, loyal to the regime, included cartoons with swastikas, Stars of David, and American flags juxtaposed. Unfortunately such messages aren’t uncommon in Venezuela, where the socialist leader is building strong ties with Iran’s president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, in a proud axis to counterbalance American weight worldwide. Every time the Middle East is embroiled in another explosive episode, the effect on the streets in Chávez’s country is foreseeable.

It would be a mistake to underestimate such incidents. In fact, while Venezuela represents the most fertile ground today for this type of hatred, Mexico and Central and South America as a whole have a history of anti-Semitism that is little known, yet increasingly worrisome. In 2005 the fence of a Jewish cemetery in Cochabamba, Bolivia, was sprayed with Nazi slogans — the second time in recent years. Similarly, two years ago, swastikas were drawn on the Hebraica Club in Montevideo, Uruguay. Other anti-Semitic acts have taken place not only in cities with active Jewish communities but also in towns without Jews. At times neo-Nazi groups are blamed, but the incidents are also committed by communist groups. In Valparaíso, Chile, after a documentary on neo-Nazi activities made by the country’s television station was broadcast, the network’s office was vandalized. In Argentina, arguably the Latin American country where anti-Semitism is most common and vociferous, the list of occurrences is lengthy.

It’s time to conceptualize Hispanic anti-Semitism on its own terms. Seeing it just in a global context, as one more sign of anti-Semitism around the world, doesn’t offer a full picture. It is a phenomenon with a complex, multifaceted history.

Before I go further, a word about the term “anti-Semitism.” A few months ago, I delivered a lecture on the subject at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. Prior to my visit, I received several e-mail messages complaining about the use of “anti-Semitism” in my title. A couple of messages suggested that the term refers to aggression against people of Semitic background. Jews are among them, but so are Arabs. Those correspondents proposed “anti-Judaism” as an alternative. But anti-Judaism is abhorrence of the Jewish religion. Another correspondent wondered, So how about “anti-Jewishness”? But that is equally loose, since Jewishness is generally understood as the secular culture of Jews in Western civilization. My response: The word “anti-Semitism” is ubiquitous at the global level. Its semantics might be vague, but the public always understands its focus on Jews.

Among the audience at the talk were a dozen representatives of the United Nations from different parts of the Hispanic world. They were all educated, middle or upper-middle class, with an average age of 50, and none of them (to the best of my knowledge) were Jewish. I was struck by a number of comments during the question period. Some in attendance said they had never witnessed an anti-Semitic remark in the Hispanic world or, for that matter, anything more physical. My impression was that as official representatives of their respective nations, they were eager to condemn, at least on paper, any form of such hatred. Given a bit more time, though, a number of the group suggested that misconceptions about Jews did indeed exist in their countries. Still, they were skeptical that those amounted to any orchestrated phenomenon.

That skepticism isn’t surprising. The Hispanic world, constituted by Spain, what I’ll call Latin America (Mexico and South and Central America), the Spanish-speaking Caribbean, and Equatorial Guinea in Africa, has a population of roughly 350 million. The Hispanic countries have a little more than 500,000 Jews. The three with the largest concentration of Jews are Argentina (with 250,000), Brazil (87,000), and Mexico (53,101). Most Hispanics never see a single Jew in their lives. Of course, that doesn’t mean they don’t have preconceptions about Jews.

Among the 43 million people who make up the Latino minority north of the Rio Grande, attitudes toward Jews have undergone changes in the last few decades as the process of assimilation has progressed. A survey conducted by the Anti-Defamation League in 2002 showed that 35 percent of Hispanics in the United States harbored anti-Semitic views, a substantially higher number than among other Americans (17 percent). What I found particularly interesting was that the survey suggested that, among Latinos, the percentage was higher among those who were foreign-born, at 44 percent. Hispanic-Americans born in the United States held anti-Semitic views at less than half that rate, 20 percent. No similar analysis is available for the Hispanic world in general. And the sample of respondents might not have been representative of the diversity among Latinos in the United States. Still, the high percentage of anti-Semitic views among foreign-born Hispanics seems to indicate that the northbound immigrant journey, and exposure to American values, lessens anti-Semitism.

A specific Hispanic anti-Semitism feeds the animosity, sometimes influenced by global events, but stemming from concrete historical, religious, and political forces in the Spanish-speaking countries and among Latinos in the United States. (I focus only on the Spanish-speaking areas because the roots of anti-Semitism in the Portuguese- and French-speaking countries of the Americas are different.) Each region and nation has its own idiosyncrasies, and anti-Semitic sentiments tend to be different from place to place. Cuba, for instance, had a small but thriving Jewish community before Fidel Castro’s revolution. Half a century later, the community is smaller but still thriving, receiving financial support from American Jews. Chile also has a small Jewish community — of wealthy Jews, whom Gen. Augusto Pinochet kept close ties to, occasionally attending a synagogue event. In Argentina, during the Dirty War against its own citizens, the number of Jews who were among the desaparecidos was high. Yet there’s enough continuity to recognize pan-Hispanic patterns. And those patterns, starting in the Middle Ages, point at the Jew as interloper, hypocrite, and agent of dissent.

There are three distinctive, albeit interconnected, emphases in Hispanic anti-Semitism: church-connected — and sponsored — animosity a more secular ideological hostility and attitudes relating to the conflict in the Middle East.

The source of the first type of anti-Semitism is the period known as La Reconquista, which began with the Umayyad conquest in the eighth century of the Iberian Peninsula — i.e., the quest to homogenize the territory under one religion, Christianity. Inquisitions to rid Roman Catholicism of heretics took place in Europe starting in the 12th century, but in 1478 the Catholic monarchs Ferdinand and Isabella, with the support of the pope, inaugurated the Spanish Inquisition under royal authority. It was aimed primarily at two of the three faiths that had coexisted in Spain for centuries — Judaism and Islam, in that order.

To this day, religiously based anti-Semitism in the Hispanic world revolves around a set of beliefs sponsored by Church fathers during the Inquisition to justify hostility to Jews. Among the claims: that Jews had betrayed Jesus, and that, as witnesses to his ordeal, their existence was proof of the authenticity of the Passion. In March 1492, the Edict of Expulsion was issued in Granada, written by Juan de Coloma on behalf of Isabella and Ferdinand. It “resolved to order all and said Jews and Jewesses out of our kingdoms and that they never return or come back to any of them.”

I am distressed that the edict isn’t better known. It was an intricate document, with the first portion devoted to justifying the expulsion. The sheer presence of Jews in the Iberian midst made “wicked Christians” misbehave, the edict said. That is, there were good Christians and bad Christians. A successful nation would endorse the former while rejecting the latter. The edict used the verb judaizar, which would feature in Hispanic lexicons for centuries to come: to judaize means to spread the evil gospel. In 1502, Muslims were also given an ultimatum: either convert or leave too.

There has been much debate among historians as to the true function of La Inquisición. Was it designed to persecute Jews? Was it set up, instead, as a mechanism against an emerging class with powerful influence — economic, political, and cultural — the conversos who had publicly adopted Christianity to avoid persecution? Has the role the Inquisition played in Hispanic society been overemphasized? Whatever the answers, it is undeniable that the Inquisition’s sheer authority projected a long shadow on every aspect of life.

Fear — and the assumptions feeding it — spread widely. To be a Jew and to be a judaizante were different things: The former resisted conversion and, hence, was a lost cause but the latter was all the more dangerous, surreptitiously undermining the foundation of Iberian civilization. The terms castizo and honrado, in vogue at the time of the trans-Atlantic colonial enterprise in the 16th century, are apropos. Neither is readily translatable into English. They make reference to the pure blood in one’s family, to the difference between a cristiano viejo and a cristiano nuevo, an old and new Christian. At the time of the colonial enterprise, that hierarchy, based on ancestry, shaped the Americas to the core.

Spain was left mostly without Jews. For centuries a fascinating development took place: anti-Semitism without Jews. Just as Shakespeare wrote The Merchant of Venice without having been exposed to Jews, who had been expelled from England in 1290, so some of the authors of the so-called Spanish Golden Age, like Francisco de Quevedo y Villegas (1580-1645), imagined Jews without direct contact with them. The same goes for their successors, like Benito Pérez Galdós (1843-1920). In Spanish literature of the 16th century and onward, Jews are big-nosed money lenders. Even today in Spain, on occasion one still stumbles on anti-Semitic remarks, especially among soccer fans.

In Latin America, anti-Semitism has been grounded in the phobias that arrived from the Iberian Peninsula with the conquistadors, explorers, and missionaries. The ghosts of the Inquisition are pervasive. Conversos sought to escape the Spanish Inquisition and emigrated in large numbers. (According to specialists in onomastics, literally hundreds, if not thousands, of the region’s patronymics, from Espinoza to Pérez, have Jewish origins.) They believed that the colonies across the ocean were a safe haven, but in major urban centers like Lima and Mexico City, cases like that of Luis de Carvajal the Younger, accused of proselytizing the “Mosaic” religion in 1596 in Mexico City, were not uncommon. Like many others, the governor’s nephew and heir succumbed to torture and named other judaizantes among the colonists.

To meditate on anti-Semitism in the Hispanic world, and particularly in Latin America, without invoking the victims of the Inquisition is to decontextualize the phenomenon. Even though conversos are rarely mentioned in textbooks, their plight is the pillar on which subsequent hatred has been built. They were anti-models: Burned at the stake in ceremonial gatherings attended by the masses, they underscored the message that to be different was a sin. When the independence movements began to emerge in Latin America from 1810 onward, the revolutionary figures were often accused of being Jewish conversos. To do so was to discredit their cause.

Ideology became the fountain of anti-Semitism in Latin America in the last third of the 19th century. As in North America, Ashkenazi immigrants from Eastern Europe arrived in Latin America between 1880 and 1930, Argentina their primary destination. The presence of the new immigrants triggered an outbreak of xenophobia among the local population. More and more, Jews were seen as threatening agents of change. For some who feared them (especially those inspired by The Protocols of the Wise of Zion, a fraudulent screed published in Europe around that time, purporting to show that Jews and Freemasons were planning to overthrow Christian society), Jews were seen as part of an international capitalist campaign. For others, they were communist infiltrators working to undermine the foundations of capitalist society. Either way the response was filled with hatred, not toward the Jewish religion, but toward the Jews as an ideological menace.

Among the chapters in the history of this type of ideological anti-Semitism is the Semana Trágica, the Tragic Week, in Buenos Aires in 1919. Some commentators have described it as the first, and so far only, pogrom on this side of the Atlantic Ocean. More than anything else, it was a symptom of labor unrest. As Argentina underwent industrialization and workers sought to organize, labor unrest coalesced around anti-Jewish sentiment because, as happens so often, immigrants were seen as taking jobs and despoiling the preindustrial landscape.

Businesses were destroyed. Some sources say close to 700 died, and thousands were injured. A number of them were Jews. Since then, anti-Semitic attacks based on ideology have been sporadic, used by various political figures to their advantage, their tone depending on circumstance. When I was growing up in Mexico in the 1970s, I remember reading comic strips and watching television shows in which Jews were depicted as controlling major businesses. In 1982, when President José López Portillo nationalized the banking industry, he threatened to publish a list of those Mexicans who had taken money out of the country, a threat that remained just that. It was said that the list had a preponderance of Jewish last names. Similar rumblings have been heard from Peru to Costa Rica. All of that isn’t surprising, considering that The Protocols of the Wise of Zion is still sold throughout Latin America in inexpensive editions on magazine stands.

Since the founding of Israel in 1948, and particularly after the Six-Day War in 1967, the third basis of anti-Semitism has materialized. It goes by the name of anti-Zionism and springs from the left. On campuses across Latin America, more intensively than on their North American counterparts, Israel is portrayed as a merciless aggressor whose only purpose is to annihilate the Palestinian population. The rhetoric reaches higher intellectual circles. Some years ago I was engaged with the Nobel Prize-winning Portuguese novelist José Saramago in a polemical discussion in Boston about the military policies of the state of Israel. After his visit to Ramallah, Saramago equated the Palestinian situation with Nazi genocide. I told Saramago that I shared his unhappiness with the situation, but that comparing Israel’s attitude with Hitler’s approach to the Jews was ridiculous. Saramago’s opinions aren’t exceptional. In fact, as of late, even center-right intellectuals like Mario Vargas Llosa, once left leaning, have taken a confrontational position toward Israel. But at least he’s more cautious than the average izquierdista, or leftist, for whom Jews and Zionists have become interchangeable terms. In urban graffiti, the terms appear to be synonymous with the merciless capitalist usurpers who control Hollywood and the American news media and have strong influence in Washington. Signs also paint Jews, since they are seen as extensions of Israeli policy and American imperialism (Beware, for Jews are in cahoots with Yankees!), as supporters of the war in Iraq. That might not be a uniquely Hispanic spin to the ugly face of anti-Semitism, but as it connects with the religious and ideological components, it has a particular resonance among the Latin-American population.

On July 19, 1994, a terrorist attack left 85 people dead and hundreds injured in Buenos Aires. A truck with a bomb crashed into the building of the Argentine Jewish Mutual Aid Association, the Jewish community center. The entire building collapsed. President Carlos Menem ordered an investigation, which dragged on for years in the end, it offered no conclusive data, although top-ranking Iranian officials and Iranian-backed terrorist groups remain prime suspects. Two years earlier, also in the Argentine capital, the Israeli Embassy had been the target of a terrorist attack.

Such incidents signaled the vulnerability of Jewish communities in Latin America. A drastic change in attitude followed. Up until then, Hispanic Jews hadn’t seen the need for security, notwithstanding the strong religious and ideological anti-Semitism they faced. Almost 15 years later, prominent Jewish sites are tensely vigilant, especially during religious holidays.

It is crucial to understand the intertwined roots of this Hispanic anti-Semitism, not least because it has an impact among the growing Hispanic population in the United States. As I mentioned previously, the data released by the Anti-Defamation League suggest that Latinos born north of the Rio Grande increasingly reject anti-Semitic ideas. But fringe organizations like the Nation of Aztlan incite hatred, mostly through the Internet. The group draws on the views articulated during the Chicano civil-rights movement that began in the second half of the 1960s, arguing that Chicanos live under U.S. occupation of what was originally Aztlán. As its publication, La Voz de Aztlan, makes clear, the organization also denies the Holocaust and portrays Jews as abusive owners of assembly-line maquiladora, media manipulators, anthrax-spreading terrorists, and shrewd spies. It also supports the idea that Zionists were behind the attacks of September 11, 2001. Editorials, often reprinted in the Arab world, are intertwined with comments on poverty, voting rights, immigration, and bilingual education. It was clear in op-ed pieces published in Spanish-language newspapers and in radio discussions that the immigration marches last year provided a venue for the dissemination of such nativist opinions. Some of these attitudes can be linked to the type of rhetoric associated with Louis Farrakhan and other extremist African-American leaders. But their force and appeal also cannot be understood without reference to the anti-Semitism in Latin America.

Of course it is also important to consider the other side of the coin: anti-Hispanic sentiments among Jews, a topic that requires attention, especially in the United States. In spite of the compassion that flourishes on the surfaces, there’s a deeply ingrained wariness about Latinos and a lack of interest among Jews in Latino culture — a topic for an essay of its own.

Here, the point is that the terrorist activities in Latin America and the anti-Jewish rhetoric among Hispanics north and south of the Rio Grande won’t vanish. The only way to confront it is, first, to understand it.4

Ilan Stavans is a professor of Latin American and Latino culture at Amherst College. One of the stories in his collection The Disappearance (Northwestern University Press, 2006) has been made into the movie My Mexican Shivah, produced by John Sayles. Yale University Press has recently published his book, with Verónica Albin, Love and Language.


Textual Warfare and the Making of Methodism , by Brett McInelly. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014. Pp. 256. $20.00. ISBN: 9780198708940.

Reviewed by Kathryn Duncan
DOI: 10.32655/srej.2018.1.3
Cite: Kathryn Duncan, review of Textual warfare and the making of Methodism, by B. McInelly, Studies in Religion and the Enlightenment 1, no. 1 (fall 2018): 17-19, doi: 10.32655/srej.2018.1.3.
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Using a balanced mixture of canonical and non-canonical texts, Brett McInelly argues that the dialectical relationship between textual attacks on Methodism and Methodist responses did much to form the Methodist movement itself. While other studies have documented this “warfare,” as the title calls it, McInelly’s work moves beyond cataloging and historicizing to make a rhetorical argument based upon the theories of Kenneth Burke, thereby contributing new insight. The book clearly will appeal to those interested in Methodism, but it does not assume such a specialized audience, offering context, description, and definitions all while assiduously historicizing. Historians, literary scholars, rhetoricians, and sociologists all will find the text approachable and persuasive.

In his introduction, McInelly notes he will cover the period of 1732, the date of the first known printed account attacking Methodism, to 1791, the year of John Wesley’s death, as Wesley was both Methodism’s most important leader and most prolific defender of it in print. McInelly lays out typical eighteenth-century attacks against Methodism through a reading of the most extended fictional critique of Methodism: Richard Graves’s nearly 1,000-page work The Spiritual Quixote (1773). The most prevalent concerns for Graves were enthusiasm and itinerant preaching since both—particularly as combined in Methodism—held the potential to create a revolutionary movement designed to undermine the stable social order of the eighteenth century. The opening of the book also states McInelly’s central (and insightful) questions: “To what extent and in what ways did the anti-Methodist literature influence perceptions of the revival? In what ways did this literature shape Methodist religiosity and self-understanding?” (10).

Chapter 1, “Print Culture and the Making of Methodism,” lays the foundation for the rest of the book, describing the textual warfare as an attempt by anti-Methodists and Methodists to own the discourse describing the movement. McInelly states explicitly at the beginning of this chapter “that Methodism in the eighteenth century was experienced largely through conflict and the printed word” (24) and argues that Methodism ironically flourished thanks to the printed attacks against it. In addition to a thorough review of secondary literature, this chapter, like all others, engages with a wide range of primary texts as it explores the attempts by detractors to define the terms of the debate and Methodist refusal to be defined by detractors. The term “Methodist” itself is a prime example since critics coined it as a pejorative label while Wesley chose to embrace the name. This kind of thinking led to Methodists seeing themselves as a unified group under attack and feeling confirmed in their beliefs as a persecuted people. In addition, writing and reading were central means of creating a Methodist identity, once again a problematic aspect of the movement as it spread literacy among the poor.

“Rhetoric and Revival,” the next chapter, invokes Burke to frame Methodism as a rhetorical problem since Methodists wrote both to persuade others of their legitimacy and to confirm themselves in their beliefs. McInelly argues that “the appeal of Methodism rested, in large part, on what Burke refers to as an experience of symbolic identification, an inter-subjective experience in which individuals see themselves in and through the language of others” (64). Methodists used writing to create a sense of identification, something especially important for a mystical religious movement that relied so much on personal experience of spirituality. Reading accounts of fellow Methodists created community as well as serving as an affirmation of faith.

In “Performing the Revival,” McInelly extensively reads Samuel Foote’s play The Minor, an important critique given the genre, both because it reached a wide audience and because of the anti-theater stance of Methodism. What Foote demonstrated is that even as Methodists condemned theater going, its leaders appropriated theatricality to persuade. This was particularly true of George Whitefield, the object of satire in The Minor. Once again, such attacks did nothing to undermine Methodist community but rather confirmed members in their belief that they were, like early Christians, enduring persecution for their faith.

The fourth chapter treats hymn singing, another Methodist practice that invited scorn because of its bent toward what was perceived as enthusiastic: Methodists singing with great exuberance religious lyrics to popular songs. At the same time, John and Charles Wesley tried to use the Methodist hymnal to negotiate charges of enthusiasm and to check individual responses with group singing that coordinated emotional experiences. McInelly claims that the Methodist hymnal shaped Methodist experience unlike any other discourse of the time with the singing of hymns often becoming the moment of spiritual conversion.

The most damning charge against Methodism, sexual promiscuity, serves as the subject of Chapter 5. Critics accused Methodists of confusing spiritual and sexual impulses thanks to the enthusiastic, visceral nature of the religion of Methodist leaders using their powerful rhetorical techniques to seduce women and of forming improper relationships due to the close, soul-searching relationships Methodists formed. Contrarily, attackers accused Methodists of refusing sex to their spouses, thereby undercutting family structure Wesley did, in fact, encourage celibacy. Of course, the discourse surrounding sexuality involved debates over women’s roles in the family and culture at large, particularly because Methodist women were active leaders in the movement. McInelly also grants that the physicality of the conversion experience and intimate Methodist meetings invited the charges of sexuality.

The book’s last chapter deals with the threat within, examining infighting over predestination with an extensive reading of Humphry Clinker. Both Wesley, who argued against predestination, and Whitefield, who argued for it, attempted to situate themselves within Church of England orthodoxy. Wesley feared the doctrine of predestination opened Methodists to accusations of antinomianism so that by carefully and publicly separating himself from Whitefield and Calvinist Methodists on this issue, he actually allied himself with Methodism’s critics. For the most part, Wesley’s attempts to distinguish his version of Methodism failed because the general public saw little difference between Wesley’s and Whitefield’s ideas. An exception is Humphry Clinker, in which the eponymous hero’s virtues align him with Wesleyan Methodism (with an emphasis on good works) while the critiques of Methodism (such as the doctrine adopted by Tabitha) are aimed at the Calvinist branch. Like the attacks aimed from the outside, doctrinal infighting, McInelly argues, served to cohere the Methodist movement.

McInelly’s conclusion emphasizes that Methodism is a product of print culture. He notes, “Even though Methodists represented less than 1 per cent of the total population during Wesley’s lifetime, print media gave readers a different impression entirely” (216). The print war exaggerated the threat of Methodism while providing a cohesion that could not have existed without it.

An impressive bibliography closes a book that will surely be seminal in Methodist studies yet accessible to readers less familiar with the religious movement. Textual Warfare is a well-researched and carefully argued work that will benefit all scholars interested in social movements, print culture, and rhetoric.


Review: Volume 9 - Spanish Inquisition - History

Being the Nação in the Eternal City , a new book by James William Nelson Novoa, explores in a set. more Being the Nação in the Eternal City , a new book by James William Nelson Novoa, explores in a set of case studies focusing on seven carefully chosen figures, the presence of Portuguese individuals of Jewish origin in Rome after the initial creation of a tribunal of the Portuguese Inquisition in 1531. The book delves into the varied ways in which the protagonists, representing a cross-section of Portuguese society, went about grappling with the complexities of a New Christian identity, and tracks them through their interactions with Roman society and its institutions. Some chose to flaunt Jewish origins. They espoused a sense of being part of a distinctive group, the Portuguese New Christian nação, that set them apart from other Portuguese. Others chose to blend as much as possible into the broader Iberian world represented at Rome, and avoided calling attention to their family past. All, however, had in their own way to work out the multiple shades of what was involved in being a Portuguese with Jewish roots needing to navigate the social and cultural charts of pathways through Rome, the urban center of the Catholic Church. The book draws on archival research conducted in the Vatican, elsewhere in Italy, in Spain, and in Portugal. It brings a variety of sources to bear on the complex phenomenon of emergent group identities. It also proposes a critical reflexion on diasporas, the formation of sub-national communities, and on the structuring of collective memory in Early Modern Europe. The work will be useful to scholars and general readers interested in the Portuguese New Christian diaspora, in sixteenth century Rome, and in the dynamics of community consciousness in Early Modern Europe. //

Le nouvel ouvrage de James William Nelson Novoa, Being the Nação in the Eternal City, se penche sur la présence des Portugais d’origine juive à Rome après l’installation d’un tribunal de l’Inquisition au Portugal en 1531. Le livre présente, dans un cadre analytique, sept vignettes de personnages historiques. Il documente en particulier les façons dont ces agents, qui représentaient une coupe de la société portugaise contemporaine, choisirent d'affronter les exigences de leur nouvelle identité chrétienne, tout en jouant des interactions avec la société romaine et ses institutions. Certains affichaient leur racines juives. Ils épousaient un sens d'appartenir à un groupe particulier, la nação des Chrétiens Nouveaux d'origine portugaise. D’autres optèrent de s’intégrer le plus étroitement possible au petit monde des expatriés ibériques de toutes sortes à Rome, évitant d'afficher le passé.Tous durent affronter les multiples incertitudes pénombreuses d'être Portugais d’origine juive navigant entre les écueils culturels et sociaux du siège urbain de l’Église catholique. L’ouvrage est un fruit de recherches menées en Italie, au Vatican, en Espagne, et au Portugal. Il invoque des sources diversifiées pour illuminer le phénomène complexe d'identités collectives émergentes. Il propose également des réflexions critiques au sujet de diasporas, de communautés sub-étatiques en créche, et de la mémoire collective au sein de l’Europe moderne naissante. Le livre s'adresse surtout à tous ceux, spécialistes ou non, qui s'intéressent à la diaspora des Nouveaux Chrétiens portugais, la ville de Rome au seizième siècle, et la dynamique formative communautaire au début de la période moderne.

Portuguese Tangier (1471-1662) is a new book dealing with the pre-modern architecture of Tangier. more Portuguese Tangier (1471-1662) is a new book dealing with the pre-modern architecture of Tangier, a dynamically expanding Moroccan port on the south shore of the Strait of Gibraltar. The book offers a “virtual archaeology” of the Portuguese urban fabric heritage--both vanished and preserved--in Tangier's médina, the walled Old Town. Solidly grounded in archival sources and profoundly revisionist, Portuguese Tangier alters our image of the médina to an unexpected extent. Yet it makes no claim to being "definitive" in any sense -- on the contrary, it is no more than a starting point. The volume stands at a critical intersection of well-known documents, recently located sources, and those that have been heavily underused (military engineering plans -- Portuguese as well as English, Portuguese building estimates and construction proposals). It plays a critical searchlight over discrepancies that become evident once spatio-temporal GIS modelling is deployed to re-examine the sources and the existing literature. The book challenges a rainbow of standard interpretations and entrenched Tangerois urban legends. It ranges widely, from recent hypotheses to newly confirmed toponyms, contentious architectural details, and the design and construction of the fortifications. The scope extends to historic environmental factors affecting the Old Port (studied through a new 3D bathymetric model of the historic anchorage -- the only such model available for now). The well-known "Tangier" series of drawings and etchings by the Bohemian artist Wenceslas (Václav) Hollar (1607-1677) comes into its own here, in a fresh, analytical, modelling-oriented context that interlinks Portuguese and English data tightly. The Portuguese period (1471-1662) is set in a frame that encompasses both the pre-1471 Muslim port and various 1662-1684 English components of the urban fabric—genuine as well as spurious. The book targets mainly a specialist audience (historians, conservationists, heritage planners, urban archaeologists, itinerary and exhibit designers dealing with Tangier), but will also reward the patient casual reader genuinely interested in the fortified médina and its history.

Portuguese Tangier (1471-1662) est un nouveau livre qui fait le point sur l'histoire de l'architecture portugaise du port de Tanger, cette cheville maritime du nord marocain saisie à présent dans un tourbillon de développement. Le livre offre une "virtual archaeology" du patrimoine portugais dans la vieille ville, la médina--d'une part un patrimoine disparu (et par conséquent "virtuel") mais aussi, d'autre part, étrangement préservé, bien que souvent inconnu, méconnu, ou ignoré. Solidement ancré dans les fonds d'archives et profondément révisionniste sans aucune prétention d'être "definitif", Portuguese Tangier change notre compréhension de la médina. L'ouvrage se situe au carrefour critique des sources -- documents classiques ainsi que des pièces nouvellement découvertes ou redécouvertes (plans de génie militaire -- portugais aussi bien qu'anglais, des devis estimatifs portugais et des travaux d'étude). L'auteur met en évidence les disjonctions fondamentales qui surgissent du moment que les ouvrages de recherche disponibles à présent s'affrontent aux documents dans un cadre de modélisation SIG spatio-temporel. Le livre met en question une panoplie d'interprétations et de "légendes urbaines" Tangéroises bien établies. Portuguese Tangier fournit une fusion d'hypothèses récentes, de toponymes nouvellement confirmés, de détails architecturaux à débat, et d'une exploration en détail des fortifications. L'enquête s'étend aux facteurs environnementaux dans le Vieux Port (étudiés au moyen d'un nouveau modèle bathymétrique de l'ancrage -- le seul modèle du fond de l'ancrage historique, en trame 3D, disponible pour le moment). La série "Tanger" de Wenceslas (Václav) Hollar (1607-1677) (dessins et gravures) se situe ici dans un contexte d'analyse et de modélisation qui fusionne les sources portugaises et anglaises. La discussion de l'architecture portugaise (1471-1662) s'encadre entre des vignettes du port marocain d'avant-1471 et d'éléments anglais du tissu urbain -- éléments véridiques aussi bien qu'imaginaires. L'ouvrage s'adresse principalement aux spécialistes (historiens, professionnels du patrimoine, archéologues, et concepteurs d'itinéraires et d'expositions) mais offre néanmoins de quoi bien contenter tous les amateurs de la médina et de son histoire.

The Portuguese Studies Review (PSR) has opened a call for papers for the dossier "Cities and Lite. more The Portuguese Studies Review (PSR) has opened a call for papers for the dossier "Cities and Literature". Contributors wishing to participate in the abovementioned publication, which seeks a thematic dialogue around a central Lusocentric axis that highlights the theme(s) of the City (Cities) in Portuguese, French, Spanish, and English literatures, among others -- a dialogue of great relevance for cultural studies and their identitarian corollaries -- are invited to submit proposal abstracts at the latest by 15 February 2021. The forthcoming publication shall be co-ordinated by Luciana Marino do Nascimento (Universidade Federal do Rio de Janeiro) e João Carlos de Souza Ribeiro (Universidade Federal do Acre).

Ramping off the theme of Cities in Literature, the editors seek to promote two specific research streams, which ought to prioritize reflection about the urban space within (a) geographical contexts as well as within (b) other sui generis spatialities, such as literature. In particular, we seek to: expand the theoretical and critical planes referencing urban spaces in literature, history, and literary historiography, on the one hand -- and on the other hand, conceptually acknowledge the city as an identity-moulding factor seminal in the cultural and literary shaping of a nation, whether in diachronic or in synchronic perspectives.

The proposals may involve research articles, critical essays, theoretical essays, and/or the results of research in the field of comparative literature and poetics.

The editors will accept abstracts and article submitted in Portuguese, Spanish, and English.


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