1. Along the way > Likes and Comments

1. Use this thread for general comments while you read "along the way" or to discuss topics not covered by other threads

I love this line: “She’d never have to kill a man like this.”

A small correction: In chapter 29, Emperor Ferdinand says 3 times that Emperor Maximilian I Habsburg was his father. In fact, he was his grandfather.

The topic of the book is very timely, since we have just read Light From Darkness: Nine Times the Catholic Church Was in Turmoil- and Came Out Stronger Than Before, which talked about the delays in the Council of Trent, and about the issue of bishops not living in their dioceses.

As an aside, with no shade on the author, I’ve been listening to the audible version of this book, while reading along. The reader is very good. However, she keeps pronouncing Borromeo *Bo - Romeo.” 😁 it really gets annoying because his name comes up very often towards the end.

So another question: does any other English speaker normally pronounce it that way? I’m from Texas, which has a large Hispanic influence, plus my mother was Peruvian, and we’ve always called the Saint: Borromeo [Boro - mayo], rather than Bo-Romeo.

Christopher wrote: "As an aside, with no shade on the author, I’ve been listening to the audible version of this book, while reading along. The reader is very good. However, she keeps pronouncing Borromeo *Bo - Romeo...."

Automatic generation of audible text is not perfect. Foreign words or names are usually mis-pronounced. Borromeo was Italian, so the pronunciation of his name was similar to the Spanish one.

Understood, but this is a human. She also mispronounces apostolic.

Hello; Professor Manuel Alfonseca encouraged me to join this discussion. I have my own opinion, though I’ll keep it to myself. First, I’d like to say it is a shame that the period Mrs. Lebak outlines in her novel *With Two Eyes Into Gehenna* isn't more highly valued. It is unfortunate, but due to the dominance of England and the United States, European history is completely undervalued in contemporary fiction. Consequently, topics like the Council of Trent or the Thirty Years' War are rarely addressed in modern fiction—and when they are, it is often in a pejorative way or with an obvious anti-Catholic bias. That is not the case with this novel, though I do want to lament the general trend. Secondly, I know I’m going to take some heat for what I’m about to say. I know many will be highly critical because this novel doesn't fit the standard category of historical fiction. However, given the presence of so many fictional plotlines—and ones that aren't faithful to actual events—I wonder if Mrs. Lebak should have mentioned this in a prologue or epilogue. If she wanted to write a fictionalized story, I think it would have been more appropriate to opt for the fantasy genre or "alternate history." As a historian, I consider it important to remain as faithful as possible to historical reality, avoiding anachronisms or fictional plots that contradict what actually happened. If she wanted to tell a story like this, I think Ms. Lebak should have chosen the fantasy genre—something I am considering myself—or alternate history. A good example of this would have been *Elfling* Elfling, by our friend Corinna Turner.

As for History, I unfortunately believe it is deterministic; past events have already occurred and cannot be changed. The only things that can be altered are events in the present—and, depending on our actions, those of the future. I know Mrs. Lebak had a good idea: to write an entertaining story about a group of nuns serving as the Pope's bodyguards while covering major events like the Council of Trent. However, judging by what is being discussed, the inclusion of so many fictional plotlines—such as warrior nuns or Gnostic heresies—would personally pull me out of the story. I have always maintained that the approach is fine, Dan Brown provided one tries to Christianize the plot, but perhaps I was mistaken.

To enhance the historical context of this novel, Mrs. Lebak could have consulted documents from the Simancas archives to see the true nature of Spain's participation in the Council of Trent. If those documents were not digitized or published—making direct access impossible—she could have turned to a number of readily available authors who would have provided her John H. Elliottwith greater insight into both the Council of Trent and Spain itself. The first is Ludwig von Pastor, an expert on the history of the papacy; the second is Hubert Jedin, an authority on the Council of Trent. Then there are Hispanists such as John Lynch, , Henry Kamen, Geoffrey Parker (who is very hostile toward Philip II on certain points, but still valuable), Garrett Mattingly, William Thomas Walsh, Phillip Wayne Powell1284924], Charles Fletcher Lummis, Thomas F. Madden, William S. Maltby, Ludwig Pfandl, Patrick Williams, M.J. Rodriguez-Salgado, I.A.A. Thompson (), and Richard L. Kagan. Regarding specialists on Trent—John W. O'Malleyaside from Hubert Jedin—there are , A.D. Wright, and Simon Ditchfield; for understanding the Protestant Reformation, one might look to Hilaire Belloc, Eamon Duffy, Carlos Eire (a name suggested to me by Sandra Miesel),Alexandra Walsham, Christopher Haigh, and Enrique García Hernán. Please convey some words of encouragement to her. "Dear Mrs. Lebak, The history of the Spanish Monarchy during the reign of Philip II and the Council of Trent requires no fictional embellishment to be enthralling; the reality of that era is already a political, spiritual, and human thriller of colossal proportions. When literature relies upon the worn-out myths of the Black Legend, or introduces subplots foreign to the genuine sixteenth-century mindset, history, paradoxically, becomes flatter and far more predictable. By immersing yourself in the scholarship of historians such as Elliott, Jedin, O'Malley, Eire, or Duffy, you will discover that Philip II was not the melodramatic villain of a serialized novel, confined within the walls of El Escorial. Rather, he was a man buried under mountains of bureaucracy, deeply concerned with justice and faith, and ensnared within a suffocating global geopolitics. I cordially invite you to discover the true face of that Spain: a global power that married a dazzling artistic and intellectual sophistication with the most profound moral and political dilemmas of early modernity. Your novel will undoubtedly gain a strength, an originality, and a literary dignity that your Anglo-American readers—and, indeed, audiences worldwide—will most sincerely appreciate." In my next post i will post an essential bibliography to understand a right historical context of the period.

I. The Council of Trent & The Catholic ReformationHubert Jedin – A History of the Council of Trent (4 Volumes)The definitive, monumental masterpiece on the Council. Essential for understanding the theological and geopolitical intricacies of Catholic renewal.John W. O'Malley, SJ – Trent: What Happened at the Council (Harvard University Press)The most accessible, brilliant modern narrative. It breathes life into the human, political, and spiritual realities behind the decrees.Carlos Eire – Reformations: The Early Modern World, 1450–1650 (Yale University Press)An extraordinary, prize-winning panoramic view. Eire treats Catholic mysticism and intellectual rigor with the profound respect they deserve, dismantling the myth of a "backward" Counter-Reformation.Eamon Duffy – The Stripping of the Altars: Traditional Religion in England, 1400–1580 (Yale University Press)A masterpiece of revisionist history. Duffy proves that late medieval Catholic piety in the English-speaking world was vibrant, deeply loved, and only dismantled through state-sponsored violence.II. King Philip II & The Spanish MonarchyJohn Elliott – Imperial Spain: 1469–1716The undisputed classic. A perfectly balanced introduction to how Spain became the defender of Christendom and the challenges it faced.Patrick Williams – Philip II (Palgrave Macmillan)An exceptional biography that replaces the caricature of the "Demon of the Escorial" with a deeply human portrait of a king buried under bureaucracy and duty.I.A.A. Thompson – War and Government in Habsburg SpainCrucial for understanding that Philip II’s empire was not a tyrannical monolith, but a complex legal system based on constant negotiation and deep respect for local laws.Geoffrey Parker – Imprudent King: A New Life of Philip II (Yale University Press)While Parker can occasionally lean toward a stricter view of the monarch, his unparalleled access to the Altamira papers offers a breathtaking, indispensable look into the King's daily administrative and spiritual life.William Thomas Walsh – Philip IIA classic, passionately written narrative from a traditional perspective that directly counters the foundational myths of Anglo-Saxon anti-Catholic propaganda.III. Transnational Networks: Spain and the British IslesEnrique García Hernán – Ireland and Spain in the Reign of Philip IIA fascinating study of the real geopolitical and spiritual ties between Spanish royalty and the persecuted Catholics of Ireland and England.Alexandra Walsham – Charitable Hatred: Tolerance and Intolerance in England, 1500–1700An objective look into the early modern mindset, proving that religious zeal and the defense of orthodoxy were European standards, not a unique "Spanish cruelty."This bibliography provides the Catholic Book Club with an unassailable intellectual fortress. It moves the conversation beyond mere fiction, allowing readers to rediscover a golden age of Catholic sophistication, art, and administrative genius.

Fonch wrote: "However, given the presence of so many fictional plotlines—and ones that aren't faithful to actual events—I wonder if Mrs. Lebak should have mentioned this in a prologue or epilogue."

In fact, she did mentioned some of her changes in an epilogue titled "Thank you!", although not all changes are mentioned there.

Manuel wrote: "Fonch wrote: "However, given the presence of so many fictional plotlines—and ones that aren't faithful to actual events—I wonder if Mrs. Lebak should have mentioned this in a prologue or epilogue."..."

Just out of curiosity: what were the changes that Mrs. Lebak failed to report? Since I haven't read the book, I have no information on that part.
Incidentally, there *was* someone who attempted to assassinate Pius IV—a certain Benedetto Accolti, the illegitimate son of a cardinal who had been punished during the reign of Paul III. However, this happened after the Council of Trent, and the Spanish monarchy was not behind the plot; rather, it was the *zelanti*—the hardline orthodox faction—who were responsible. After Pius IV, this faction succeeded in securing the election of Saint Pius V. Benedetto Accolti was betrayed by his friend Pelliciari. As for the Spanish ambassador, the Count of Luna, he died a few months after the Council ended; furthermore, Pius IV’s accession had come as a great relief following the reign of Paul IV. He was already gravely ill with kidney and lung ailments as well as gout, so there was no need to poison him. In fact, Leopold von Ranke—who was highly critical of the popes due to his own Lutheranism—is the only one who speaks favorably of this particular pope.

Fonch wrote: "Just out of curiosity: what were the changes that Mrs. Lebak failed to report?"

For instance, the Spanish plot to assassinate the Pope.

Manuel wrote: "Fonch wrote: "Just out of curiosity: what were the changes that Mrs. Lebak failed to report?"

For instance, the Spanish plot to assassinate the Pope."

I am going to commit a bit of a heresy here: let us set history aside for a moment. Why would Spain want to kill Pope Pius IV? What would it gain? It did not do so with Paul IV, who went so far as to excommunicate Charles I (Charles V of Germany) and Philip II. Why make an enemy of his successor—someone who is on the same spiritual wavelength as you, who detests the Carafa family just as much as you do, and who—despite his nephew Saint Charles Borromeo—distrusts the *Zelanti*? Plotting against Pius IV does not strike me as a very intelligent diplomatic move on the part of the Spanish embassy. Has anyone stopped to consider what the Spanish ambassadors Francisco de Vargas and Don Luis de Requesens were actually doing, or what they were asking for? Some might be in for a surprise. The major point of friction between Spain and the Pope was the appointment of bishops; in all other respects—specifically regarding doctrine—Spain got exactly what it wanted.

Fonch wrote: "As for the Spanish ambassador, the Count of Luna, he died a few months after the Council ended"

In fact, he died in Trent on December 28, just 24 days after the Council closed.

Manuel wrote: "Fonch wrote: "As for the Spanish ambassador, the Count of Luna, he died a few months after the Council ended"

In fact, he died in Trent on December 28, just 24 days after the Council closed."

That is why the plot to assassinate the Pope makes no sense; had the story remained truer to history, I believe Mrs. Lebak would have crafted an even better narrative. After all, strange as it may seem, real life is sometimes even more fascinating than fiction. Incidentally, those heresies would not have been possible had the Protestants—whom she refuted at that Council, and who were invited but refused to attend—not introduced the concept of the faithful interpreting the Scriptures for themselves. Paradoxically, it is the Protestants who open the door to the Gnostic theories Mrs. Lebak combats in this novel. I am currently fascinated by a German writer who chronicled the atrocities committed by the Anabaptists in Münster, using them as an allegory against Nazism. He came to mind after I read Opus Nigrum by Marguerite Yourcenar.History of the Munster Anabaptists, A: Inner Emigration and the Third Reich: A Critical Edition of Friedrich Reck-Malleczewen's Bockelson: A Tale of Mass Insanity by Friedrich Reck-MalleczewenI am also fascinated by Hyeronimus Cornelisz, an antinomian who instigated the *Batavia*The Wreck of the Batavia: A True Story by Simon Leys massacres. He represents the kind of heretic who needed to be combated—figures silenced by official historiography and far more troubling than the heretical bishops who appear in this novel. I am also fascinated by Hyeronimus Cornelisz, an antinomian who instigated the *Batavia* massacres. These are the kinds of heretics who needed to be combated—figures silenced by official historiography and far more alarming than the heretical bishops appearing in this novel. Beyond the Taborites and Anabaptists, there are extreme cases such as the Levellers, Diggers, Ranters, and the Fifth Monarchists—groups that took the free interpretation of Scripture to the absolute limit. They are the forebears of communism, and their movements can be extremely violent. In my opinion, this is what should have been challenged, for they represent genuine dangers.

Manuel wrote: "Fonch wrote: "As for the Spanish ambassador, the Count of Luna, he died a few months after the Council ended"

In fact, he died in Trent on December 28, just 24 days after the Council closed."
We have cases demonstrating just how dangerous these theories can be when taken to the extreme—such as those of Thomas Venner, Abiezer Coppe, and James Nayler. Furthermore, we must not forget that Oliver Cromwell himself could be held responsible for one of the first modern genocides due to his actions in Ireland—specifically at Wexford and Drogheda. That is why I consider these people more dangerous than those fictional heresies. PD. That is not to say that the mechanistic and materialist Erastianism advocated by Thomas Hobbesis much better. The Council of Trent opposed these risks.