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AS THE CROW FLIES, ABOUT FIVE KILOMETERS SEPARATE THE VATICAN AND the Lateran – a long walk and a considerable distance on horseback. The spiritual energy flowing between them created an unlikely Christian decumanus , a major east–west street that now rivaled the ancient north–south cardo defined by Via Flaminia/Appia. To the medieval Roman and the foreign pilgrim this was the ultimate ceremonial path, Christian Rome's triumphal way. It conjured images of dazzling processions led by pontiffs and crowned heads of state, eventfully traversing the city with meaningful stops and attendant ritual. Processions such as the papal possesso , a ritual walk to the Lateran taken by the newly crowned pope, began at St. Peter's (Fig. 135). From there one moved down the length of the porticoed Via Cornelia toward the Tiber with the somber bulk of Hadrian's Mausoleum as the first beacon; across Pons Aelius, and through the Campus Martius, with pagan landmarks and Christian stations to the right and left, to the foot of the Capitoline; then skirting it along the north and east to enter the Roman Forum; passing through it to the crest of the Velia at the southeast end, where the Arch of Titus stood and opened the way down the slope to the Colosseum; and up again, to the top of the Caelian and the sprawling and spirited complex of the Lateran. This was Via Lateranensis, Via Papalis, Via Maior: as close to an organizing central axis as medieval Rome ever had. But it was no triumphal route in the formal sense. Were it not for the power of processions to fashion continuity and cohesiveness through ceremonial movement, it would be seen for what it really was, a string of neighborhoods and a patchwork of streets of different width and indifferent rectitude, going uphill and down, and flanked by everything from rows of unassuming houses or yard walls to the still-proud marble frames of ancient theaters, monumental monasteries, and parish churches. It was no cardo or decumanus in the Roman sense. Via Papalis was not, in other words, the initial organizing determinant of the course of urban order, but the unanticipated and improvised reaction to the pull of two far-flung ceremonial centers.

IF MEDIEVAL ROME, IN ITS LONG HISTORY, HAD ANYTHING LIKE A MORAL and administrative focus, it was the Lateran palace and the basilica Constantiniana , now called S. Giovanni in Laterano, St. John Lateran, which Constantine, freshly victorious at the Milvian Bridge, built to serve the pope, bishop of Rome. From that moment the fate of medieval Rome was bound to this remote corner of the city, which grew steadily in girth and importance even as the inhabited core contracted away from it. By the ninth century the Lateran complex had become to papal Rome what the Palatine had been to imperial Rome, the supreme seat of administration and political power. Despite ravaging invasions and other adverse conditions, despite the search for alternative seats of papal rule, the Lateran remained inarguably preeminent until the official move to the Vatican in 1420 following the return of the papacy to Rome. Our investigation into the Lateran's first 1,100 years must be brief, and sadly there is little left to see of this once-magnificent theater of autocratic rule. Other than the baptistery, some adjacent structures, the rebuilt and relocated Triclinio Leonino, and the largely thirteenth-century Sancta Sanctorum, new construction between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries devoured or covered over nearly the entire medieval scheme. Still, the Lateran was relatively lucky. In an exhaustive study of the physical and literary documents that Rohault de Fleury published in 1877, we have a compelling plan and reconstruction drawing of the complex at the end of the Middle Ages, as it stood in 1300 – the first jubilee year, which drew Giotto and Dante to Rome – pristine and isolated from its environment (Figs. 125, 126). But because our environmental approach privileges process over the culminating product, our task is to peel back the layers of time so that we can see the matrix of streets, the Aurelian Wall, aqueduct arcades, and other elements that spawned a whole urban quarter we call, by the common Italian term for such a compound, the Lateran Borgo. To aid our reconstructive surgery, Rodolfo Lanciani's Forma Urbis Romae (1893–1901), which shows the modern streets and buildings over the medieval and ancient Lateran neighborhood, is essential (Fig. 127).

Anchored in the wider debate on the relation between the child’s best interests and religion, the chapter inquires whether the Holy See—a religious actor, party to the Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC)—has best interests obligations, and whether it considers these in its actions and norms intended to address clerical child sexual abuse. The study challenges the self-portrayed dual personality of the Holy See qua government of the Vatican and qua government of the Church; instead, it posits that the Holy See and the Vatican form a construct ‘clothed’ in state-like resemblance, which therefore enjoys the privileges of states and incurs correlative obligations. By drawing on doctrinal and judicial developments in the area of extraterritoriality, and critically examining the 2014 Concluding observations of the CRC Committee, the chapter shows that the Holy See’s child rights obligations, including those related to the child’s best interests, do not stop at the tiny borders of the Vatican. Lastly, it examines whether the Holy See assumes its best interests obligations and their extraterritorial reach, and reveals a surprising dissonance between the actor’s discourse on the one hand, and recent legislative and institutional practice on the other.

The origins of the papal chapel begins with the end of the Great Schism in 1417, as the papacy institution developed for the popes in Avignon was adapted to the new circumstances of life in the Vatican. This chapter concentrates on the institution as it existed at the end of the fifteenth century. Study of the papal chapel as an institution in the fifteenth century is hampered by the loss of all the internal documents of the chapel for that period. Sometime in the late fifteenth century or the early sixteenth, the papal master of ceremonies, Johannes Burckard, made sets of notes about the organization and personnel of the papal chapel. The mixture of history and wishful thinking is to be seen in Burckard's placing the sacristan above the maestro di cappella and his placement of the masters of ceremonies immediately after the maestro.

The legacy of Great War captivity developments remains widely debated among historians. Some argue that the 1914 to 1918 period showed continuities with the treatment of prisoners of war during the wars of the late nineteenth century. Prisoners of war were the subject of a mammoth charitable aid effort during the war which encompassed both domestic and international organisations such as the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) at Geneva, the Vatican and the Young Men's Christian Association. ICRC published frequent reports on conditions in the camps and by the end of the war it had established itself as the foremost international charitable organisation assisting prisoners. While the Great War set key precedents, these had a limited impact in 1914 to 1918. It was only with the later rise of totalitarian regimes that the true horrific potential of some of the Great War innovations in captivity would become clear.

The Taking of Rome Just as Austria’s defeat by Prussia in 1866 had brought Italy the Veneto, so France’s defeat by Prussia in 1870 led to the capture of Rome. Throughout much of the 1860s the Holy City had been defended by a garrison of French soldiers. When this was withdrawn in the summer of 1870 to fight Prussia, and Napoleon III was defeated and forced to abdicate, there was little to stop the Italian government seizing the historic capital. On 20 September, less than three weeks after the Battle of Sedan, Italian troops blew a hole in the Leonine walls at Porta Pia and marched into the city. Pius IX was left with the small enclave of the Vatican. A law was passed in May 1871 that guaranteed the safety of the pope, provided him with an annual grant, and gave him the full dignities and privileges of a sovereign; but Pius IX rejected it out of hand. The rift between the liberal state and the Church was now broader and deeper than ever. The acquisition of Rome had long been the supreme ambition of most Italian patriots. For Mazzini’s followers in particular, the city was always much more than just a piece of territory. It was a symbol of moral regeneration, pregnant with the idea of mission and responsibility; and just as the Rome of the Caesars and the Rome of the popes had each brought the world a new civilisation, so the ‘Third Rome’, that of ‘the people’, would arise and convey to the oppressed the gospel of liberation and peace. Even such a rational moderate as Quintino Sella could not escape the spell of Rome: he longed, he said, to underline the universal significance of destroying the pope’s temporal power by making the city into a great centre for science. However, not everyone was smitten. Massimo d’Azeglio and Stefano Jacini objected to Rome becoming the capital of Italy precisely because of its historical associations, which, they felt, would weigh dangerously on the country’s rulers.

PREFACE In 1991 Brolis published transcripts of the profession of vows by postulants in the Bergamo houses of Torre Boldone and the Galgario in 1255 and 1318. She knew of only two other documents of this type, both of which came from Monza and recorded the entry of new members into the Domus de Carrobiolo outside the walls and to the Third order convegno in the contrata comuni . They were dated 1259 and 1349 and had been published by Tiraboschi and Zanoni respectively. Tiraboschi had also published a third document, dated 1253. Nothing before the middle of the century was known to these historians. The Ghiara archive in Verona, however, has a very substantial number of professions of faith dating from 1205 to 1281. Some were published in 1765 by Biancolini and their whereabouts and potential have recently been made clear in the work of De Sandre Gasparini, based on extensive and often fruitful research in the Veronese archives. Another early profession is in the Vatican archive. This appendix gives the first twelve such records in sequence. They are shown in parallel columns and spaced in sections so as to facilitate comparison of the formulae used in each document. Punctuation follows that of the documents, and for the sake of brevity standard abbreviations have not all been expanded. Only personal names have been capitalised to ease comprehension. Otherwise all spellings and capitalisation reflect the practice of the notaries.

The twin sisters Agnes Lewis (1843–1926) and Margaret Gibson (1843–1920) were pioneering biblical scholars who became experts in a number of ancient languages. Travelling widely in the Middle East, they made several significant discoveries, including one of the earliest manuscripts of the four gospels in Syriac, a dialect of Aramaic, the language probably spoken by Jesus himself. Originally published in the Horae Semitica series, this fascicule contains an English translation of the apocryphal acts of the apostles. Originally published in 1904 by Agnes Lewis, the text chronicles the lives, adventures and deaths of important figures like Paul, Thaddeus and James, the brother of Jesus. This fascinating volume features extraordinary tales of peril and persecution - one town's sinful population places a naked prostitute at the town gate to deter the apostles, but the archangel Michael levitates her out of their way - and is of great historical and theological interest.

The first decade of the 21st century has witnessed a number of controversies surrounding the interaction between law and religion in the United Kingdom. In particular, tensions have emerged between laws protecting religious freedom and those which prohibit discrimination on grounds of sexual orientation. In particular, Parliament has repeatedly examined the scope and ambit of exceptions afforded to religious groups which allow them to discriminate on grounds of sexual orientation when specific conditions are met. And these exceptions have reportedly led to tensions within both the Blair and Brown cabinets and rebukes from the Vatican and the European Commission, criticising the exceptions for being too narrow and too broad respectively. The exceptions have also been challenged by way of judicial review, have been applied or commented upon in a number of high-profile cases and have attracted comment in the print and broadcast media. A number of employees have brought claims asserting that new legal requirements promoting equality on grounds of sexual orientation are incompatible with their religious beliefs. This article seeks to explore the legal changes that have occurred in the first decade of the 21st century affecting religion and sexual orientation with particular reference to how courts and tribunals have dealt with clashes between the two. It discusses the extent to which English law allows religious groups and individuals to follow their own beliefs regarding human sexuality.

THE VIA ALESSANDRINA: THE STREET AS STAGE As an ideal model of the well-ordered city, or human society in general, the type of the Caprini facade transcended its own specific location and physical disappearance, enjoying widespread diffusion in Rome and far beyond. It also stimulated, however, innovative and striking cases of a self-conscious, even polemical departure from the example set by Bramante; indeed, such counterdesigns appeared in close proximity to the Palazzo Caprini, in a blatant attempt to upstage it (the metaphor is entirely appropriate). In this chapter I discuss the novel urban “stage” on which the Caprini facade and its rivals made their appearance and which they helped to shape through an architecture of unprecented rhetorical ingenuity and capacity to position a patron in his social or cultural world. The chapter ends with a review of the very different history and topography of a group of Roman palaces frankly indebted to the Caprini facade. In 1499 Pope Alexander VI Borgia commanded the opening of a straight street between the portal of the papal palace of the Vatican and the piazza in front of the Castel S. Angelo (Map 4; Fig. 51). Officially designated as the Via Alessandrina, the street was generally known as the Borgo Nuovo, and was aligned roughly parallel to the existing major route (Borgo Vecchio or Carreria Santa) leading from the city toward St. Peter's basilica.

The reign of John V During the seventeenth century, Portuguese musical practice had remained essentially confined within the limits of the Iberian repertory. The arrival of Italian music and opera in the country in the first quarter of the eighteenth century, at a time when it was rapidly becoming the main international tradition all across Europe, was a direct consequence of the changes in Portuguese musical life and institutions brought about by the artistic and cultural policies of King John V, who reigned from 1707 to 1750. Confronted with the power and dominance that the Catholic Church had acquired during the previous century, the king tried to curb this power by appropriating it himself. To this effect he invested a significant part of the crown's new wealth connected with the discovery of gold in Brazil in the prestige of the religious establishment in general and of his own royal chapel in particular, which he managed to elevate to the status of patriarchal see at the beginning of his reign. In the ironic words of Frederick II of Prussia, “Priestly functions were his amusements, monks his armies, convents his buildings, and nuns his mistresses.” The reform of musical institutions and the importation of Italian musicians are directly connected with the reform of the chapel, in an attempt to make it emulate the Papal Chapel. Several papal singers, and in 1719 the master of the Cappella Giulia of the Vatican himself, Domenico Scarlatti, were hired for the Portuguese chapel, which in 1730 had as many as 26 Italian singers. A court orchestra was also formed whose main members were foreigners, some of whom established dynasties of court players which were to last up to the second quarter of the nineteenth century. In 1713 a music school was created adjoining the chapel, the Seminario da Patriarcal, which would remain the main music school in the country during the whole eighteenth century.

During the reign of Ivan III Muscovy conducted diplomatic relations with a wide range of polities. The grand prince exchanged diplomats with heads of state who were as diverse as the Muslim shahs in the Caucasus and the pope at the Vatican; whose realms were as geographically widespread as Denmark in northwestern Europe, Moldova in southeastern Europe, and Shirvan in the Caucasus; and whose power was as varied as that of the rulers of city-states of Italy and the Holy Roman and Ottoman emperors. Some of the diplomats representing Muscovy were Italians and Greeks, who were employed by the grand prince for their familiarity with other societies, political systems, and languages. Others were his own court servitors, usually below the duma ranks, and staff personnel. Their activities were overseen by the administrative staff that kept records of their instructions, messages received from abroad, and agreements concluded with foreign rulers. Muscovy's most intense relations, however, were conducted with its immediate neighbors, Lithuania, Livonia, and Sweden, and also the Tatar khanates that replaced the Golden Horde. The centralized administrative apparatus and the pomestˈe -based army, which evolved during the reigns of Ivan III and Vasily III, were the instruments the grand princes used to implement their foreign policies. Those policies, which included economic as well as political and military components, were generated by the decline of the Russian principalities' mighty neighbors and the creation of conditions that allowed Muscovite expansion to take place.

ART AS RELATIVE SINGULARITY Hans Urs von Balthasar liked to claim from time to time that he was really a Germanist rather than a theologian. As peculiar as that claim might sound to those who know him from his great theological trilogy, his patristic monographs, or even his work in the 1980s on the Vatican's International Theological Commission, his assertion certainly holds true of his professional training before he entered the Society of Jesus in 1929, when he was awarded a doctorate in Germanistik at the University of Zurich. But it is not as if his entrance in the Jesuit Order then meant he had abandoned literary studies for 'pure' theology. Indeed, it will be the burden of this chapter to show that his later work as a theologian is thoroughly intertwined with his earlier work in literary appreciation, criticism, and theory. Some might even argue that Balthasar's theology is so enmeshed with his literary sensibility that it undermines, confuses, or even vitiates that theology. The astute scholar, however, will find that the richness of Balthasar's theology is due, at least in part, to his literary training and sensibility, and that, conversely, his theology only lends weight and substance to his literary-critical insights, making those insights genuinely interdisciplinary, and in that way all the more original.

The prosperity and high reputation of the English community in Rome would have been hard to predict when diplomatic relations between London and the Vatican were severed after the defeat of James II by William of Orange. For many decades, the Pope's support for the Jacobite cause made Rome an uncomfortable place for aristocratic English visitors. But the influence of the Jacobites began to wane, and by the mid century Rome had become one of the most important destinations on the Grand Tour. Thomas Jones reported that Romans arranged their English visitors in three classes: ‘Artisti’, who came for ‘Study and Improvement’; ‘Mezzi Cavalieri’, ‘who lived genteely, independent of any profession’; and ‘Cavalieri’ or ‘Milordi Inglesi’,who moved in a ‘Circle of Superior Splendour surrounded by a group of Satellites under the denomination of Travelling Tutors, Antiquarians, Dealers in Virtu, English Grooms, French Valets and Italian running footmen’. ‘To be a native of Great Britain’, Kelly wrote of his experiences in Italy in the late 1770s, ‘was a passe -partout’ all over the country.’ With no formal representation as yet at the Vatican, the large English community relied on a leading banker, Thomas Jenkins, who functioned in effect as an unofficial ambassador. As James Northcote pointed out in 1778, Jenkins was ‘of vast use to all the English, who fly to him as they would an Ambassador, for the King sends none to the Pope’.

The transition from royal absolutism to liberalism in nineteenth-century Spain and Portugal was turbulent and diverse. Civil wars between defenders of absolute monarchy and liberalism, periodic revolutions, military interventions, popular rioting and passionate constitutional debates produced chronic political instability, especially between 1820 and 1850. Throughout these upheavals, the Catholic Church remained the established church in both Iberian countries. The republican revolution of 1910 in Portugal finally led to the separation of church and state, an example imitated by the Second Republic in Spain in 1931. In the officially Catholic states of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, there were periods when the church appeared on the verge of disintegration. During the 1830s liberal governments in Madrid and Lisbon suppressed the regular clergy, ordered the sale of their property, forbade ordinations to the priesthood, exiled bishops and abolished the tithes on which diocesan priests depended. At other times, conservative liberals sought an accommodation with the church. Portugal and the Holy See concluded a convenio in 1848 and concordats in 1857 and 1886, while Spain agreed to a concordat in 1851 that governed civil–ecclesiastical relations until 1931, save for two periods. The shifting balance between aggressive and moderate approaches to relations with the church reflected the divisions of liberal opinion. For the Moderate and Progressive parties of mid-nineteenth-century Spain and the Regenerator and Historical parties of Portugal, the question of the church and the degree of state control over its affairs remained a central concern. At the end of the day, the changes imposed by Spanish and Portuguese liberalism, whether in an aggressive or a moderate version, undermined the ecclesiastical establishment of the eighteenth century.

In his youth Ignaz von Dӧllinger had been a leader of renewal of the Roman Catholic Church in Germany. He also had a strong interest in the institutional growth of Protestantism, and developed friendly relations with Protestants in Germany and outside. After 1850 his work seems more and more strongly marked by his realisation of the value of historical criticism. In Kirche und Kirchen. Papstthum und Kirchenstaat (1861) he argued that churches which separate themselves from the Pope end in chaos. At the same time, he himself was beginning to resist papal claims to absolute power. In 1871, unable to accept the teaching of Vatican I on Papal infallibility, he was excommunicated. Students were forbidden to attend his lectures. He was thus placed in circumstances which encouraged him, although they were personally very painful, to work actively for unity in the Church in such arenas as were open to him. The protest against the Vatican I decrees in Germany contributed to the formation of the Old Catholic Churches. Dollinger was uncomfortable with anything which would set up ‘altar against altar’, and he found a constructive outlet for his concern in the Bonn Reunion Conferences of 1874 and 1875. These were held under Dollinger's presidency and included Old Catholics who had recently separated from Rome over the decrees of the Vatican Council, German Evangelicals, and a number of Anglicans.

INTRODUCTION The great affirmation of the church as ‘one, holy, catholic and apostolic’ was not formulated precisely or stated explicitly until the promulgation of the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed in 381. Yet the seeds of this declaration of the essential notes of the true church were sown well before this time. U nity as a note of the true church has its scriptural basis in passages such as the prayer of Jesus for the unity of his disciples at John 17,21f, Paul's condemnation of division in the congregation at 1 Corinthians 11,17f., and at Ephesians 4,4-6, where the author ties the unity of the church to that of the Godhead. Among the Fathers before Tertullian, Clement of Rome, Hermas and Irenaeus of Lyons all place emphasis on the necessary unity of the church and frequently either cite or allude to Ephesians 4,4-6 to make their point. H oliness as a note of the true church was very early linked to the question of discipline. The assertion that the church is the virgin Bride of Christ at Ephesians 5,26f, the case of the man living with his father's wife at 1 Corinthians 5,1-5, the treachery of Hymenaeus and Alexander at 1 Timothy 1,1 gf., and the warnings to separate from an erring brother and other immoral persons at 2 Thessalonians 3,6, Ephesians 5,7f, and 1 Timothy 5,22 all confirm the necessary holiness of the church; this is usually accompanied by a call for a rigorous discipline which will lead to a church fellowship untainted by grievous sinners.

THE GAINING OF INDEPENDENCE During the sultanate of Mahmut II the Syrian Catholic church succeeded in winning over serveral more Jacobite bishops and clergy to the Roman communion. Then, during the patriarchate of Ignatius Butrus Jarweh, almost all the Jacobite communities of Damascus and south Lebanon joined the Syrian Catholics, among their number the bishops of Diyarbakir, Mosul, Homs and Damascus. In Mosul, Catholics and Jacobites shared the same churches but each with their own clergy. In 1830, when the Catholic Armenians obtained recognition as a millet , the Syrians were included, and so the former civil ties to the Jacobite clergy were broken. Because of this new freedom, Patriarch Ignatius Butrus left the monastery of Sharfeh in Lebanon and moved to Aleppo where he was closer to his people and could show potential converts that they need no longer fear government sanctions or threats of reprisal from the Jacobite hierarchy. By 1830 the Syrians were about twenty per cent of Aleppo's Catholic population and were the group upon whom foreign missionary influence worked most strongly. One missionary wrote in 1834 that the progress of Eastern Catholics was remarkable, but he was cautious: It should not, however, be thought that [Latin] missionaries in Syria are useless. The weak dispositions which one observes to the obedience to the Holy See manifests clearly how easily some Syrians can detach themselves from the Catholic faith; and, if one did not place missionaries among them, there would be fears for their perseverance…