Anglican missionaries took advantage of the spread of the empire to prosleytise to Native Americans and African Americans. Motivated by a desire to bring the gospel to so-called heathens and halt the spread of Catholicism, Cambridge men travelled to North America, the Caribbean, West Africa, and India to spread Protestantism. If they chose not to head abroad, they instead provided donations to missionary organisations, such as the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, or assisted in the administration of plantations owned by these organisations. As Cambridge missionaries and dergymen encountered enslavement, prominent University figures became increasingly interested in debates concerning and morality the efficacy of Indigenous and African slavery. Some fellows were actively sceptical of the moral grounds for slavery, whilst others believed that enslavement was grounded in Christian belief. Rather than emerging in the era of abolition, scepticism and debate about the moral foundations of enslavement were consistent features of British intellectual life for over a century.

This chapter explores the sacral aspects of Achaemenid Persian kingship. It attempts to precisely illuminate the ruler’s relationship with the divine and to demonstrate that the assumption of priestly prerogatives was an important aspect of his office. To better appreciate the political function of religion, this study provides cultural and historical contexts for the royal appropriation of sacral attributes. It further contributes to the recent field of study regarding a possible soteriological dimension to Achaemenid ideology by assessing and synthesising new and previously cited evidence for the existence of such an element, as well as its possible applications.

This introduction establishes the overarching claim of this book: that Elizabethan and Jacobean dramatists consistently focus on the disastrous consequences of willing and will-making, while simultaneously emphasizing the vital role that wills played in defining one’s sense of identity and self-worth. English Renaissance drama can be understood, in one way, to be preoccupied with considering the influence that wills exert over human life.

Here, I provide an overview of how both the faculty of the will and the last will and testament were conceived of in the period. The will was primarily thought to be an unruly part of the soul that hinders our ability to achieve what we desire, though the performance of the will was not merely localized to the body or psyche. One way of enacting one’s will upon the world was achieved for some through the production of a last will and testament. Last wills acted as tools for testators to impose their will upon the living, dictating who will, and who will not, benefit from their death. In their immaterial and material forms, wills shaped the quality and conditions of one’s life and afterlife.

Thucydides identified the period of the Peloponnesian War as one in which a concern with divine engagement in the affairs of mortals was particularly intense. This chapter explores a variety of evidence for this heightened concern and asks what forms it took. On the one hand, we find extravagant investment in religious festivities and display. Faced with the uncertainty of war, states and individuals lean into these elements of cultic life and seek thereby to create or claim the sort of prosperity and ease of engagement with the gods chiefly possible in times of peace. On the other hand, we find dissenting voices and worries about the neat picture of prosperity and cohesion such festivities promote. The heightened stakes of the War, where divine favour or displeasure could bring victory or destruction, provide a particular impetus for divergent voices and divergent attitudes to how engagement with the gods should be approached and represented. The chapter explores these dynamics at three levels from the macro to the micro. First, it tackles interstate discourse and competition. Second, it examines the internal dynamics within a single city-state: Athens. Third and finally, it zooms in further to discuss a single cult: the Eleusinian Mysteries.

This chapter traces the arcs of change that are visible in the interpretation of the First Amendment’s Establishment and Free Exercise Clauses. To a rough approximation, the Supreme Courts over which Earl Warren and Warren Burger presided as chief justice (from 1954 to 1969 and 1969 to 1986, respectively) sought to enforce a “wall of separation” between church and state. That wall has crumbled in the decades since. The current Court has embraced the originalist position that historical understandings define the exclusive Establishment Clause limitations on permissible governmental acknowledgment of and support for religion. Among the outstanding questions is whether the Warren Court’s iconic decisions banning prayer in the public schools will survive. The pattern of decisions under the Free Exercise Clause is complex, with current trends reflecting a reversal of positions by judicial conservatives and judicial liberals alike. Justice Scalia epitomized the views of conservatives of his generation in holding that the Free Exercise Clause does not require the government to exempt either religious organizations or individual believers from generally applicable laws that impede religiously motivated practices. More recently, as the parties seeking exceptions have increasingly included conservative Christians, the conservative supermajority has often supported their demands.

War was a regular feature and, at times, a dominant characteristic of international relations between the Peace of Westphalia in 1648 and the beginning of monarchical Europe’s struggle with Revolutionary France in 1792. At least until the Enlightenment, contemporaries viewed it not merely as an acceptable way of pursuing international rivalries, but as a more normal and natural state of affairs than peace. Periods of open conflict, during which diplomatic representatives would usually be withdrawn, were assumed to be inevitable and, indeed, were frequently the anticipated outcome of the policies adopted by rulers and their advisers. The eighteenth century was significantly more pacific than its seventeenth-century predecessor had been, though in turn much more bellicose than its nineteenth-century successor. According to one calculation, the European ‘great powers’ were engaged in warfare for eighty-eight years of the century 1600–1700, sixty-four years from 1700–1800, and twenty-four years from 1800–1900. During the shorter period between 1700 and 1790, Russia was at war at some point during all nine decades; Austria, France, and Britain during eight; Spain and Sweden during seven; Prussia during six; and the Ottoman Empire during five: figures which underline the ubiquity of armed struggle even during the less bellicose eighteenth century.

Sub-Saharan Africa was on the threshold of a new and violent era in the second half of the fifteenth century. The ensuing four centuries would see innovative forms of military organisation, novel cultures of militarism underpinning such systems, and new wars, as well as new ways of fighting them. There were often different factors at work in different regions; the presence of external drivers was a key distinction between Atlantic Africa and the rest of the continent, for instance. However, warfare across early modern Africa had much in common, in terms of the aim to control factor endowments, to maximise population, and to construct enduring ideological systems, whether territorially or culturally defined. In some ways – certainly in terms of the underlying trends and broad contours of Africa’s military history – the existence or absence of external intrusion is a distraction, however significant it was in particular places at particular times. The outcome of the processes in motion between c. 1450 and c. 1850 was an expansion in military scale, the professionalisation of soldiery, the adoption of new weaponry, and the militarisation of the polity – whether ‘state-based’ or otherwise. The militarisation of African polities and societies was an ongoing process between the fifteenth and the nineteenth century, a period which in many ways witnessed the laying of the foundations of modern African political systems; this would culminate in a veritable military revolution in the nineteenth century, a transformation in the organisation and culture of violence, without which Europe’s later partition of the continent cannot properly be understood.

In the Feyerabend lectures on Natural Law, Kant addresses the topic of freedom of religion and thought in his commentary on the title "The Right Regarding Religion and the Church” of Achenwall’s Natural Law. Kant goes beyond the discussion proposed by the jurist and introduces two central ideas to his conception of Enlightenment, which will be developed in “An Answer to the Question: What is Enlightenment?”: the idea of self-legislation of the people and the distinction between private and public uses of reason. In this paper, I will first compare Kant’s and Achenwall’s views on freedom of religion and conscience and then show how the idea of self-legislation leads Kant to establish clear limits to the sovereign regarding matters of religion. Then, I will argue that the development of Kant’s idea of public use of reason results from the historical debate about the meaning of the concept of Enlightenment that took place between 1783 and 1784, especially regarding Ernst Klein’s assertions on freedom of opinion and freedom of the press.

This chapter considers the event perceived as the culmination of a good religious life – the final days and hours. The analysis considers deathbed prayers and the taking of sacraments, along with the presence of a priest, minister, and other visitors of the same faith or congregation. It argues that the deathbed – as both a site and an occasion – was an important prompt for communal religion within the home. The final days, hours, and moments of an individual’s life were recognised as a significant opportunity for religious expression for those belonging to all confessions. While some scholars have argued that post-Reformation deathbeds were increasingly secular, this chapter analyses numerous descriptions of Catholic, Jewish, and Protestant deathbeds which emphasise that an individual’s piety and composure in their final hours were interpreted as a reflection of their piety in life. Dying was a process which required witnesses, participants, and visitors, both to provide spiritual comfort to the dying individual and to observe and learn from their example.

This chapter examines rituals which took place after childbirth, uncovering evidence of baptisms, circumcisions, and even churching ceremonies that were held in domestic spaces. It suggests that a range of ceremonies we would now associate with public places of worship were frequently located in domestic spaces. It moves beyond studies which have argued that domestic baptism primarily took place in the home out of necessity, demonstrating that elective domestic baptism was more commonplace than has previously been acknowledged. Domestic ceremonies could also take place in networks of homes, being accommodated not in the family home, but in the home of a midwife, rabbi, or lay co-religionist. These ceremonies, and associated processions from the home to the place of public worship, marked the symbolic ending of the lying-in period, the departure of the mother from the home, and the welcoming of the child into the religious community. They emphasise the significance of the home as a setting of communal sociability and religious practice, and provide an important opportunity to consider the central place of the individual household within its congregation.

This chapter examines religious practices which took place in the home immediately after death: from the laying out, washing, and watching of the body, and domestic gatherings such as ‘wakes’, to the removal of the body from the home, its transfer to a burial place, and the attendant rituals associated with the disposal of the body and mourning for the deceased. It also identifies evidence of cases where the home itself was used as the location for the funeral rites. While the watching and disposal of the body necessarily catered to social and biological needs, religious aspects were closely intertwined with many seemingly practical decisions. The washing and laying out of the body, for example, would generally be performed by members of the parish or local religious community. This chapter makes use of wills, personal writing, burial records, and congregational records which provide an insight into the relationships between individual households and a wider congregation, including its designated burial ground. It argues that the home facilitated acts of communal religion in the hours and days after death, as it became the setting for gatherings and acts of charity to the body.

This chapter analyses domestic practices associated with childbirth. It considers how urban households approached and framed childbirth as an event of religious significance, by examining prayers that were said before, during, and after the event of childbirth, as well as ritual attempts to demarcate the setting of birth or the lying-in chamber from the rest of the home. Through an examination of the ecclesiastical licensing of London midwives, it explores post-Reformation attempts to regulate the female domestic event of childbirth, amid fears that it could be associated with ‘Popish’ or superstitious practices, and concerns that Catholic midwives, if operating undetected, would attempt to perform clandestine Catholic baptism. By considering personal writing and Quaker and Jewish congregational birth records, it examines the faith of midwives and invited gossips, situating the lying-in room within the broader parish or religious community, and showing how those invited into the home could be representatives of the congregation beyond its walls. It shows that such occasions emphasisied women’s relative authority both within and outside their own households.