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

Scholarly life in eleventh-century Italy comes to the notice of English historians chiefly in connexion with Lanfranc of Pavia, who (in a striking phrase of Dom David Knowles) ‘sought a career and found a vocation north of the Alps’, and with Anselm of Aosta, who succeeded him as prior of Bee and as archbishop of Canterbury. About their early education we know but little. However, the pattern of their lives—an education in north Italy, then travel to distant lands, and the eventual discovery there of an employment or vocation which would scarcely have been possible at home—was not untypical. I shall seek to describe the kind of north-Italian scholarly circles in which Lanfranc, in particular, grew up, with a view to illustrating how scholars were educated, their later careers, and their place in the history of medieval learning, culture and society. Thus we may hope to learn something about the Italian background of the two great Norman archbishops of Canterbury and, more generally, about the ecclesiastical life of north Italy which the Gregorian Reform would soon in such large measure sweep away.

As Sir Thomas More reflected upon the religious atmosphere during the first months of 1528, he could not conceal his dismay that the situation was steadily deteriorating. Indeed, he thought the popular orthodoxy so weak that any ‘senseless clown’ could gain wide support for an attack on the Church. Within the year, Simon Fish's Supplication of the Beggars had made More a prophet, forcing the busy new chancellor of England to reply to Fish with The Supplycacyon of soulys. Historians have hesitated to label Fish senseless or a clown, for the tremendous impact of his short tract upon Henry vm and the English Reformation is generally recognised. While it is manifest that the Supplication was a rabble-rousing piece of anti-clericalism, perhaps another measure should be taken of Fish before closing off the subject of his significance from discussion. Specifically, if evidence should place Fish and his writings within that group identified with William Tyndale, more credence would be lent to chancellor More's repeated assertions that a number of ‘evangelicall brethren’ existed to propagate Tyndale's beliefs.

After Elizabeth's accession the Church in England was in a confused condition. The queen envisaged a politique settlement which, although protestant, was not reformed, thereby enabling her to avoid both international conflict and open internal rebellion. This meant that the established Church must not follow too closely the radical changes in ceremony, doctrine and administration associated with the continental Reformed Churches. However, Elizabeth was compelled to recruit the necessary new bishops and chief ecclesiastical officers from amongst the returned exiles and other convinced Protestants.

By far the greatest proportion of the time and energy that is expended on the study of church history is devoted to the areas where the Church has, for practical purposes, died out, or where it is demonstrably declining. The history of that more considerable part of the Christian world which is still expanding, is the preserve of a tiny minority of specialists.