Book Reviews

From Tudor to Stuart: the regime changes from Elizabeth I to James I by Susan Doran

by Nathanael Bendix

The United Kingdom underwent a great transition in 1603 when their mighty Queen Elizabeth I passed away. As Elizabeth had no children, the closest living relative was her cousin, the King of Scotland, James I. This transition of power and the aftermath of it is covered in Susan Doran’s book From Tudor to Stuart. Doran begins with the death of Elizabeth and the ascension of King James and ends in 1612 with the death of James’s heir, Henry and James’s closest advisor, Robert Cecil in 1612. Despite only chronicling nine years, the book is very detailed and takes it’s time explaining the history to the reader. One can interpret the purpose of Doran’s From Tudor to Stuart as an examination of the shift that England undertook when James I took the throne and an examination of the monarch himself.

Doran structures the book into three parts. Part One tells the tale of James I’s succession to the throne and “explains when, how, and why he became the unchallenged ruler of what was to become the new entity of Great Britain.” (3). Part Two explores the intricacies of James’s government. “I address this question in Parts 2 and 3, enquiring how far the establishment of a new Stuart dynasty resulted in fresh personnel at the center of power, alterations in monarchical institutions, shifts in political culture, and a different direction in governmental policies.” (3.). Doran writes “Part 3 of this book provides a study of James’s policies during the first decade of his reign, assessing their novelty, popularity (or otherwise). And impact.” (5). Doran wants to present a different side of James than what is normally accepted by the public. “Wrongly depicted as careless about his majesty, James too projected an image of legitimacy and power: court ceremonial, visual displays, ad in his case his writings.” (5). Doran also wishes to show that the Jacobean era was just as interesting as the Elizabethan Era that preceded it. Doran doesn’t write a standard biography of James I, but rather an examination of the Jacobean Era through the eyes of its namesake monarch.

                        The book begins with the death of Elizabeth I, the last of the Tudor line. Because she has no living successor, she is succeeded by James I of Scotland. The first part of Doran’s book,” Succession and Ascension “establishes the pace of the book. Susan Doran, the author, is well versed in this period of history as she is a professor of Early Modern English History at the University of Oxford. The book does mention James’s early life but that is more of context to a bigger picture rather than a full-scale biography. This helps the book from not getting bogged down and allowing the pacing to flow better.  I thought that the book was well-written. Was it long? Of course. But my complaint was not that the book was overly long. I did like the detailed look into this period of history.

            The next part of the book is “People and Institutions” and, you guessed it, it is mainly about the important people and institutions in the Jacobean era. We see important figures such as James’s wife Anne or Anna of Denmark, James’s eldest son and heir Henry. I believed that the main idea of the book was that James was a more complex character than original thought of. How is this seen in Part 2? Well, I thought it was interesting how Doran explained James’s relationship with his wife Anna. Royal monarchs are often associated with their spouses, but James is a rare exception, so it was intriguing to get a more complex description of James’s relationship with his wife.

Something that I picked up on was the way that the chapters were organized in the Part 2 and Part 3. The chapters were always ____ and ____. For example, Chapter Seven is “Queen Consort and Royal Children” (, Chapter Nine is “Privy Councilor and Councilors”. Part 3 continues this trend. I thought that this was a straight to the point to quicjly sum up what the chapter is about. A clear example would be that the chapter title “Queen Consort and Royal Children” is about the Queen Consort and her children. Part One does not share this same organization all the way through, but I thought it was an interesting way to name a majority of the chapters and explain the basic running theme of each chapter in 3-5 words.

            Doran also touches upon matters across the pond such as the creation of Jamestown in Part 3 of the book” Religion and Politics”. Part three goes into more of the international scene of the day, along with other important events such as the King James Bible.  Doran writes” Although James I’s accession launched and moulded many of the initiatives described here, as his attempts to unify his territories continued a process of state formation and integration that had long predated his inheritance of the English crown and was occurring in other European states.” (429). This supports the main idea that King James I was more complex than originally implied to be.

            My only critique might be nit-picky, but I didn’t like the title. While I understand From Tudor to Stuart is an interesting title and an accurate one when concerning England’s change under the switching of royal houses, from the Tudors to the Stuarts, I felt that this book was more of a biography of James rather than an exploration of England’s change. Maybe I have read too much social history to enjoy a biography. Doran’s From Tudor to Stuart is a noteworthy contribution to the field of Early Modern England history because of its analysis of the Jacobean era. Also, this book is not chronological but rather one of those books that goes by theme rather than by timeline. I personally prefer chronological books, but I can see that it would have made more effective writing if Doran followed the timeline that she did rather than a strictly chronological one.

Something that I noticed throughout the book was the consistent comparison of Elizabeth I to James I. A part of the book that focuses on it particularly is Doran’s conclusion to From Tudor to Stuart.  . In the conclusion, Doran spends a lot of time comparing James and Elizabeth and how historians focused on their differences “Most notably, Elizabeth was frugal, James profligate: Elizabeth’s speeches were terse, James’ orations longwinded. In their devotional live, Elizabeth favored private prayer, and James public sermons.”(465). But Doran makes sure to include how similar the two monarchs were to the other and how James kept many relics of Elizabethan culture alive, something not often discussed by historians. “Visitors to James’s court would have found many similarities in its culture to the previous reign.” (472). The comparisons are not just limited to the conclusion but the entire book as Doran frequently makes comparisons of James to the late Queen Elizabeth. James I is not normally thought of as a monarch in the same vein as Elizabeth I so that’s what makes Doran’s approach to this book so interesting.

            In conclusion, Susan Doran’s from Tudor to Stuart: the regime changes from Elizabeth I to James I is a compelling read about a time in England’s history that is properly explored and broken down in a compelling and understandable manner. The book does feel like a biography of King James but even if that is the point of the book, it’s still a good read and anyone who reads it is sure to learn something from Susan Doran.

From Tudor to Stuart: The Regime Change from Elizabeth I to James I by Susan Doran

From Tudor to Stuart: The Regime Change from Elizabeth I to James I 

by Susan Doran, book review by Max Smith  

 

Just before the death of Queen Elizabeth I, a new, foreign king was simultaneously  being chosen to ascend to the throne of England and take over as a result of her heirless reign. King James VI of Scotland (later King James I) was about to transform the English monarchy in his own right, but was this really the dramatic transition that some believe it to be or simply a continuation of Elizabethan values and practices? This is the question that historian Susan Doran asks in her 2024 work entitled From Tudor to Stuart: The Regime Change from Elizabeth I to James I, in which she explores the circumstances leading to the dynastic transformation that occurred at the beginning of the 17th century, and the consequences which resulted from it. 

 

In her introduction, Doran claims that “James’s accession was far less smooth than is often supposed” arguing that despite his eventual acceptance as the new monarch and relatively unchallenged rulership over the country, there were a number of significant obstacles which initially stood in his way. However, at the same time, Doran also argues that his reign did not lead to significant alterations in monarchical institutions nor alterations in monarchical institutions, rather those institutions he inherited “remained fundamentally intact.” This level of nuance within Doran’s thesis is simultaneously what I respect about her writing, as well as what frustrates me the most. Her bibliography is well rounded and the methodology is sound, yet she seems almost hesitant to challenge the historiography in any meaningful way, carefully treading between ideas that James I’s rule led to sweeping changes and very few, if at all. 

 

The organization of this work follows the formula of many others we have read this semester. Part 1 is entitled “Succession and Ascension” which she begins by summarizing the end of Queen Elizabeth’s life, as well as the machinations within her own court which would ultimately set up James I as her natural successor. Doran states that the queen’s “unwillingness to make provision for the succession” ultimately harmed her reputation among the people and subsequent historians. Within this section she also utilizes a fair amount of environmental history and examples of social unrest, pointing to instances such as the great dearth of 1595-97 as well as protests and riots caused by the ongoing practice of enclosing public lands. Doran ultimately argues however the extensive grief that was displayed upon her death and funeral procession was not a show of fake emotions. 

 

Part 2 explores the people and institutions at play during the reign of James I, of which his wife Anna is a central focus. The death of her two young daughters Mary and Sophie, as well as their eldest son Henry took a considerable toll on her well being as well as her relationship with her husband. In her public life, Anna’s catholicism was widely known, however Doran argues that James used this to his advantage when garnering the sympathy of catholics both within the country and abroad. She adhered to the patriarchal system in place at the time, retreating from disputes with her husband when he overruled her suggestions about appointments and the like, however Doran also points out that this meant the king ultimately received the majority of the blame when it came to her lavish spending and lifestyle. 

 

This section also discusses the roles and responsibilities assumed by James’ Privy Council and Councillors of which there were many. Perhaps of one king James’ most enduring reputational qualities was his affinity for hunting, during which time he would spend long periods away from the city and in the countryside, including when his own children had passed away and he refused to return home to console his wife. His subjects had begun to accuse James of disinterest in his monarchical duties, saying of him that he attended to “nothing but his pleasures, especially to the chase… warning him, too, that unless he changes he will bring himself and the kingdom as well down to the ground.” Although oftentimes untrusting of their advice, Doran notes that king Jmes appointed councilors to a “significant number of the sixteen vacant posts that were filled after Elizabeth’s death,” a far cry from his predecessor.  

 

In part 3 of her work Doran examines the religions and politics which governed this era, and how it affected the ecclesiastical and popular opinion of the King. James continually fought with English puritans in an effort to impose conformity amongst them, however he simultaneously wanted to avoid a “serious confrontation with the Puritan clergy and their lay supporters” and therefore remained content simply with promises of future obedience. James not only fought with Puritans, but Catholics as well. In fact Doran makes an argument for continuity between the regimes of James and Elizabeth by claiming that he kept many of the discriminatory policies against Catholics despite his wife’s religious standings. Although initially he displayed a sense of moderation towards them, in Doran’s words “James had no intention of permitting full toleration even if Catholics proved loyal.”

 

James’ persecution may not have been as harsh as his predecessors’, however he also did not stray far from the beliefs of Elizabeth when it came to the administering of recusant fines and even banishments of catholic believers and priests. In this chapter Doran quotes one anonymous parishioner who stated “despite the king denouncing ‘war’ against them at his accession, he was now carrying out ‘all maner of persecution’ against them.”

 

After having read this work, I still cannot fully decipher which side Doran is taking when it comes to the transition between regimes; that of disruption or that of continuity. I think in many ways she plays it safe when it comes to James I following in Elizabeth’s footsteps, claiming that it “did not result in a radical break with the past.” Yet in others she seemingly contradicts herself by stating that his reign altered many aspects of the English crown. I believe it is of course possible that both of these ideas can be true at once, however I wish she had been more deliberate when stating her thesis. 

From Tudor to Stuart by Susan Doran

Susan Doran is Professor of Early Modern British History at the University of Oxford and a Senior Research Fellow at Jesus College. She is a Fellow of the Royal Historical Society. She has written sixteen books about the Tudors. From Tudor to Stuart (published in 2024) is the result of over eight years of research on the transition from Elizabeth I to James I and the early part of his reign, 1603 to 1612, where her history ends.

Part I of Doran’s book deals with the death of Elizabeth I and her legacy, background information about James up to 1603, two conspiracies that threaten James before he is crowned, and James’s careful management of his coronation and his presentation of himself and Queen Anna to his new subjects. Part II covers Queen Anna and their children, James I’s court and courtiers, his relationship with his privy council whose power was reduced because of a newly created department, the royal bedchamber, filled only with Scots. James brought people from Scotland into his court. When parliament failed to support his programs, he sometimes went to the courts to gain his objectives without their participation. Part III covers the ongoing struggle between Protestants and Puritans and the continuing presence of Catholics and recusants. The next to last chapter provides details about James’s efforts to promote a union of England and Scotland with one set of laws and the economic and social integration of the Scottish and English people. There was resistance to this project by people in both countries, and the union was not accomplished. Doran’s final chapter deals with the intricate maneuvers James took to assure peace between England and Spain as well as other powers in Europe.

An article by Michael Corrie Questier, The Reputation of James VI and I Revisited from The Journal of British Studies, published in 2022 points out problems associated with predominantly negative depictions of James I in the past. Questier argues that a “persistent Anglocentricity” has given an inaccurate picture of James I.(953) He further notes that critical scholarship of James I failed to place him in a European context where some of his undesirable behavior was not uncommon.(957). Questier urges historians to shift “away from seeing early modern government in anachronistic and modern terms – in other words, as if it were primarily about administrative efficiency and balanced budgets.”(953) Questier quotes Susan Doran writing in 2014 as one of the historians contributing to the negative image of James. Questier states: “Susan Doran could claim in 2014 that James’s ‘future English subjects possessed strong evidence that he was devious, duplicitous and capable of treachery.’ He was handicapped by ‘the general perception of him as weak and untrustworthy’ leading to ‘anxieties about his fitness to rule over England.’” (966).

These sentiments are not expressed in From Tudor to Stuart. In the chapter which covers some background information about James prior to 1603, Doran writes “James had developed into an accomplished and effective adult ruler. His political maneuverings with the Kirk and nobility brought domestic peace to Scotland as did his policy of ensuring that his government was broadly based. The king was also successful in his foreign policy. The terms of the Anglo-Scottish Treaty of Berwick had made him and Elizabeth formal allies but did not oblige either of them to enter the other’s wars.” (41) Doran relates how Sir Robert Cecil, Elizabeth I’s trusted advisor, maintained communication with James VI of Scotland during the last weeks of Elizabeth’s life. Cecil believed James’s hereditary connection as a great-great-grandson of Henry VII and his experience as King of Scotland made him the best candidate to replace Elizabeth after her death. Cecil and others thought that James would have the least difficulty being accepted by the people of England, and his accession would go smoothly.

In a general comment about historiography, Doran explains, “For many years, historians of England treated 1603 as a watershed moment. Their books either ended with Elizabeth’s death or began with James’s accession. In part, this division was a legacy of nineteenth-century accounts that projected the causes of the English Civil War back into James’s reign. James I was held responsible for transforming divine right theories into absolute principles and practices, while the Jacobean house of commons was thought to have ‘seized the initiative’ and begun to claim some form of parliamentary sovereignty.”(465) She notes that “Historians have long moved away from this interpretation.”(465)

Questier’s article argues that critical historians in the past failed to see James’s commitment to peace in “the Anglo-Spanish peace-making of 1604-05.”(962). In Doran’s last chapter, The Habsburgs and the Dutch (430-464), she carefully describes how James was able to achieve peace with France, Hapsburg Spain, and maintain good relations with Protestant countries including the Dutch. Henry IV valued James’s commitment to peace with France, but although France and Spain had negotiated a peace treaty, Henry wanted James to continue to support the resistance of the United Provinces to the Spanish Netherlands. James skillfully managed to achieve peace with Spain, maintain his friendly relations with France, and give himself room to permit English subjects to freely choose to join forces to help the United Provinces. James clearly saw that peace with Spain was a priority because Spain was too powerful to have as an enemy, and the costs of war were not in the best interests of England’s people. Similarly, maintaining a peaceful relationship with France, the country with Europe’s largest population was also good for England, and Scotland had had a positive relationship with France for years. In this section Doron provides numerous examples of the existence of bribes and lavish gifts in the process of European diplomacy. The modern critics of James must take the realities of Early Modern diplomacy into consideration.

In her conclusion, Doron argues that the despite the significant differences in personal style between Elizabeth and James, in the end little had changed between England in 1603 when Elizabeth died and 1612 when Doran’s history ends. “James did not introduce any radical overhaul of the administration or governance of the realm.”(471) “England remained firmly Protestant. Although James was more Calvinist in his theological beliefs [than Elizabeth], he, no more than she, would allow predestination doctrines to become fully part of the Church’s official teachings.”(472) “Both monarchs understood the royal supremacy to mean they had the right and duty to impose uniformity of religious practice on their subjects.”(473) “Both Elizabeth and James denied that they were making windows into their subjects’ souls, claiming instead that they allowed freedom of conscience.”(473) Local control through “commissions of peace and the work of JPs continued to grow.” (474) Doron ends her history by stating that in a later part of his reign “James was far less sure-footed, but that is the subject of another book.”(476) Readers like me must go elsewhere to learn the rest of James’s history.

‘Female Servants in Early Modern England’ Book Review — Matthew Zilic

Making a splash with her first book, Charmian Mansell’s 2024 study Female Servants in Early Modern England sets out with a clear objective in mind: to explore the experiences of female service workers during the period. In doing so, she asks questions about their identities, their roles, and how they fit into their communities at large. In order to accomplish her goal, Mansell makes use of a sizeable body of primary sources in what she calls a “‘needle in a haystack’ method of research” (297), which almost exclusively originate from the church records of five dioceses — Bath & Wells, Exeter, Gloucester, Hereford, and Winchester. These locations were chosen due to a higher volume of surviving records compared to much of England. When speaking on the body of her sources, Mansell writes that “Church court depositions are links of a broken chain” (29); while male deponents’ biographical information can often be reliably found in court records, few, if any, comparable records exist for women. In her research, she pored over nearly 9,000 cases from 1532–1649, involving over 15,000 litigants and 27,000 witnesses. Critically for this book, she draws on the testimonies of over a thousand female servants who were identified, some more than once (14).

As a scholar who identifies with social and economic history, Mansell’s findings deal heavily with these two aspects. Using the aforementioned sources, her chief argument is that the industry of female servitude (and servitude more generally) was neither static nor stable. Instead, it was a fluid and flexible system in which female autonomy was perhaps greater than scholars in the field have given women credit for. While still acknowledging the patriarchal structures of society, she states that “The world in which these women lived was undoubtedly one in which men ruled, just not in the way that we thought” (297). Her arguments, backed by a blending of qualitative and quantitative analyses, are both persuasive and thoughtfully developed. The data takes the forms of tables that record things such as female movement around towns and the distribution of ages among servants. Chapter 5 for instance, features a table detailing the length of residence in parishes, and from this chapter, she is able to discern mobility as it correlates to age amongst servants. 

The book, perhaps more than any other that we have read this semester, interacts heavily with the historiography (or sometimes the lack thereof). Her arguments directly challenge long-held notions of family and servitude during the early modern period. For instance, as this is a gender study, the concept of patriarchy features prominently throughout. Mansell notes that female servants are scarcely studied outside the context of their masters’ households. She argues that while women’s history has stretched far and wide in search of female autonomy, the history of service has lagged behind. Just as service itself was flexible, there appears to have been flexibility within the household patriarchal order. She notes that some households indeed had no patriarchal figure; houses headed by a father or husband were but one type of household (10).

Female Servants is organized into three parts and nine chapters. Part I discusses who female servants were and how they were recorded in church records. As she claims, it offers “a more detailed reconstruction of female servant lives for this period than has been attempted before, showing service to be contingent, fluid, and flexible,” (19). Part II focuses on patterns of labor by examining female servants’ mobility, employment conditions, contractual freedom, and the types of work they performed. It shows how mobility shaped their integration and belonging, questions how freely women entered service contracts, and challenges the idea that female service was simply domestic labor. Finally, Part III examines female service spatially, socially, and temporally. It shows how itinerant women built community ties beyond the household, maintained connections across distance and time, and remained shaped by service long after it ended. Overall, it argues that early modern service was not static or purely domestic, but “finely graded, fluid, and often contingent,” (19).

Mansell also comments on the economic influence that female servants had on early modern England. According to the Statute of Artificers of 1563, servants were expected to enter into annual contracts with their masters. However, Mansell demonstrates that this was not the case in many instances. Chapter 5 opens with a discussion of the servant Philippa Hooper, who stood as a witness to the affair of her mistress. Despite heavy regulation of service, it would seem that Philippa, and many others like her, were making agreements to serve in short-term daily or weekly contracts. This aligns with Mansell’s broader argument about the greater degree of autonomy female servants experienced. However, it is also important to note that service being flexible did not always equate to total freedom; servants were still legally at the whim of their masters or mistresses. Another way in which the working lives of women are framed by Mansell is through her discussion of mobility. According to Chapter 4, women were the more mobile sex, and of this number of migrant women, over half were servants (128). This analysis aligns with the work women sought in towns and cities. It is in this chapter that perhaps one of her most compelling interventions takes place. While London attracts much of the historiographical attention for migrant laborers (deservedly so), she notes that “other urban centres offered labour opportunities for young people” (130).

Overall, Mansell’s arguments hold up well and offer another example of crafting bottom-up history from primary sources. Rather than portraying women as purely defined by their service, Mansell humanizes female servants, much as Dyer in Peasants or Kaufman in A People’s Reformation did in their respective studies. That said, one shortcoming I identified (unless I missed it) was a general lack of placement of the book within a broader political context. The last seven years covered in this study, for example, encompass the tumultuous period of the English Civil War, yet it receives only one mention in the entire book. This may almost certainly be due to political events not appearing prominently in the trial testimonies; still, I could not help but feel there was an opportunity for Mansell to further her argument by situating female servants within these broader upheavals. This aside, Female Servants is compelling and well written in its detective-like research approach and leaves the door open for further scholarship on both female and male servitude during the period. 

 

Female Servants by Charmian Mansell

Female Servants in Early Modern England is a social history written by Charmian Mansell, a lecturer on early modern England at the University of Sheffield. She received her PhD in 2016 from Exeter University, and Female Servants is her first book. 

The book argues that the experience of 16th and 17th century female servants has been narrowly understood in a variety of ways in the historiography. Mansell details a historiographical stereotype that it was mostly poor young women who became servants and that, in doing so, they left the wider economy to do purely domestic labor within the vulnerable confines of the patriarchal households of their social superiors.

Mansell challenges every aspect of this, arguing that women of a variety of ages and social classes became servants and that they often served their social equals as well as their “betters.” She challenges the idea that female servants did purely domestic labor and argues that rather than merely attending to families’ personal needs, female servants did labor in a variety of economic sectors and that they should be seen as “economic and social centres of their communities” (2) and “at the root of economic growth.”(2)

But Mansell doesn’t stop at resituating female servants within existing hierarchies. She argues that the framing that female servants existed within patriarchal households should be questioned. She does this for several stated reasons. First, Mansell argues that many households were not stereotypically patriarchal either because they were not headed by men or because men did not conform to didactic understandings of patriarchy. (10)

Additionally, Mansell argues that female servants did not exist purely within the households. Like those who surrounded them, they were members of society who moved through a variety of spaces. Mansell argues that the temptation to see female agency always through the lens of patriarchal authority can reify structures that, in practice, were more fluid. (10) Instead of searching “for the ways in which women ‘participated’ in social processes which are still defined in terms of male experience,” (15) Mansell seeks to understand “female experiences” on their own terms. She argues that by understanding both male and female experiences, a “human point-of-view” may be sought. (15)

Mansell focuses her book on rural female servants in the south and west of England. She notes that much research has been done on urban London populations of female servants, but as only a quarter of the English population was rural in the mid 17th century (16), she argues that a study of rural populations outside of London is merited. Rather than a broad study of rural servitude across all of England, Mansell focuses on five dioceses in the south and west of the country.

She takes a bottom-up approach in her book as befits her subject matter. She divides her book into three parts. In the first, she describes who female servants were and how they appear in her sources, in the second, she describes “patterns of labor,” and in the third, she describes
“[spatial], [social], and [temporal]” aspects of female servitude. (19) To make her arguments, she heavily relies on ecclesiastical court records with disputes that involved female servants. While she is cautious of the potential bias in how the cases may have been recorded, Mansell emphasizes that they are nevertheless representative of plausible occurrences, even if they did not all occur as stated. (13) She evaluates the cases extensively from both qualitative and quantitative perspectives.

When examining the cases qualitatively, Mansell is a storyteller. She skillfully reads between the lines and conveys her anecdotes in a narrative form that at times blends genres. She finds stories and details in creative places. For example, chapter two relies heavily on analysis of signatures to infer details about literacy and, by proxy, class. At times her approach might be speculative, but when it is she acknowledges it.

In general, Mansell makes an effort to explain the decisions she makes throughout her work. These explanations are occasionally personal. For example, she explains that she “unapologetically” chose to conclude her book with the story of Issot Riches because “–for some intangible reason – [she] was drawn to her when [she] found her story. ”(297) I appreciated Mansell’s honest and open approach and felt it added personality to her book in addition to adding context and explanation.

While Mansell shines as a storyteller, she does not neglect quantitative approaches in her book. Her chapters are filled with tables recording gender percentages, age breakdowns, space classifications, master demographics, and a wealth of other details. What stood out to me was chapter 6, where Mansell calculated a variety of details about female servants’ work lives, including the busiest times of day, weekly schedule, and percentages of different categories of labor.

Mansell succeeds at her thesis while mostly avoiding overstating her point. For example, she pushes back at the idea that servitude existed mainly as a life cycle position for girls before marriage, while acknowledging that it “was predominantly an experience of youth” (120) She highlights the agency and centrality of female servants, but also notes the ways in which servitude could be less of an opportunity and more of a necessity “that was not empowering.” (120) While I wasn’t fully convinced by some of her arguments about the economy and the patriarchal nature of the household, she articulated herself with nuance. Mansel succeeds at both bringing individual stories to life and illuminating wider trends. Overall, the book shines as a multifaceted case study of how to do bottom-up history well.

A People’s Reformation

A People’s Reformation

            A People’s Reformation: Building the English Church in the Elizabethan Parish by Lucy Moffat Kaufman covers that period of English history where England was transitioning from Catholicism into Protestantism. Kaufman shows that it wasn’t a simple, easy switch from Catholicism to Protestantism. But a hard, back and forth, decades long process. At the end of her preface, Kaufman writes “This story is thus neither dirge nor paean. It is, instead, an exploration of the strategies, the decisions, and the priorities of English men and women in the face of massive change. It is, in the end, the story of a People’s Reformation, and the church they built, together.” (xvi). This sets the tone for the rest of Kaufman’s book as Kaufman will not be downcast and entirely negative about this era. But she will not be singing it’s praises wholeheartedly. The preface promises the reader that they will get a balanced view of the era that Kaufman is covering in A People’s Reformation.

But what is Kaufman’s main idea? In her introduction, Kaufman writes “This book investigates that reknitting of religion and society in the Elizabethan years. It asks, at its core, how society was able to rebuild after an episode of massive, even violent, change.” (12). I believe that a way this is being shown is through the organizations of the chapters which all share a common theme: the parish. Since this book is an examination of the Parish and the English reformation, I wouldn’t think that it is too much of a stretch. Just look at the five chapter names. “Bounding the Parish”, “Policing the Parish”,” Funding the Parish”, “Taxing the Parish”, and “Receiving in the Parish”. All these play a part in Kaufman’s main question about how society was able to come together again after massive change. Kaufman finishes her introduction by saying that “In the end, this is a story about the decisions made in the face of constraints: the demands of the state, the shifts in the economy and demography, the doctrine of the church, and above all, the long legacy of the Reformation.” (22).

            In Chapter 1,” Bounding the Parish”, Kauffman writes” This chapter will explore the new efforts by the Elizabethan state church to define and enforce the boundaries of parochial life.” (26). The first chapter introduces us to the world of Elizabethan England parish life. We are introduced to the power of the church in everyday life such as ecclesiastical courts which had as much power if not more than regular courts. “By and large, the secular courts relied on the passive response of local officials in the implementation of justice, while the spiritual courts had an active program of investigation. This chapter sets the pace for the rest of the book.

            In the Second chapter” Policing the Parish”, Kauffman writes about a figure of the church that is seldom talked about. The churchwarden was very impactful in Reformation politics. “Without the churchwarden, we have a Reformation by fiat, enacted by an invisible hand of change. In other words, to understand religious change in England, we need a real understanding of its churchwardens, the agents of the state church, and the face of power within the parish.” (54). It is important for the churchwardens to be discusses because of their real responsibility and power that they held in England at this time. It is they who are policing the Parish. This chapter plays into Kaufman’s theme because without understanding who the churchwardens are, it would be hard to understand the English Reformation.

            The third chapter of the book is called “Funding the Parish”, and it discusses…. funding. Now what does Kaufman mean by funding. “To understand the financing of a church is, in a sense, to understand the church itself. From massive land sales to ha’penny tithe on eggs, the Elizabethan church raised enormous sums to power twin undertakings of doctrinal ministry and socio-political stability”. (90).  Here, Kaufmann looks at the mundane documents to get a closer feel of what life in the Elizabethan age was really like. Kaufman writes, “A closer look at the accounts, and indeed parish finances as a whole, from across England reveals the complex logistics of cultivating a Reformation in the late sixteenth century. It is in the anodyne records of the churchwardens…that we find the lifeblood of the Elizabethan Reformation.” (90). Money was and is very important to keeping a church open and churches In Elizabethan England were no exception. “Maintaining the parish church to the specifications and standards required was manifestly an expensive business.” (115).  As we have seen in the chapter, Funding the Parish is done by the church for the church.

            The fourth chapter of A People’s Reformation, “Taxing the Parish” analyses…taxing the parish. Stay with me now. Kaufman opens the chapter with the story of the dispute between Sir Ralph Ellerker, a landowner, and the new rector of Rowley, James Gayton. How does this conflict add meaning to the rest of the chapter? Well, it’s because this conflict ties into tithing. James Gayton took Sir Ralph to court because Gayton wasn’t paid tithe the way he wanted (he wanted animals and wool, but Sir Ralph wanted to give him cash). This plays into the rest of the chapter because of the role that tithing plays in taxing the parish. Kaufman discusses this in more detail. ”Thus, the payment of tithes generated lay expectations of clerical service. They created a contractual relationship between minister and parishioner, with the latter expecting the services of the former.” (164). Kaufman paints a picture of how Taxing the Parish comes through religion and the example of Sir Ralph and James Gayton illustrates how society was changing.

            The final Parish chapter of Kaufman’s A People’s Reformation is “Receiving in the Parish”. What does Receiving mean in this context? Well, judging from the opening anecdote regarding taking communion, I would assume it would be about receiving communion. Kaufman writes “This chapter approaches the question of the eucharist from two different, equally important, angles.” (183). These angles are the “pace and shape of sacramental conformity” (183) and “the lived experience of the sacrament in Elizabethan England”. (183). These angles show why these changes to the Eucharist were so important. People were willing to fight and die over the Eucharist which shows how important it was to the people of England at this time.

            Are there any critiques of Kaufman’s A People’s Reformation? Well, every chapter is organized thematically rather than chronologically. Aside from that, I liked the book. It examines the situation and historical context without flattening the historical characters see throughout the book.

            I thought this was a unique and interesting take on the English Reformation.  A bottom-up history looking at different parishes. Like James G. Clark’s Dissolution of the Monasteries, this book follows themes rather than a chronological timeline. Besides that, Lucy Moffat Kaufman does a fine job of communicating the period, the landscape and the turmoil of life in an English parish in the Age of Elizabeth I.

A People’s Reformation, Lucy Moffat Kaufman

“The Elizabethan Reformation transformed England.” (xv) “A People’s Reformation provides new perspectives on the English Reformation and the roots of the Church of England.”(6) When Queen Elizabeth came to the throne in 1558, England had experienced “thirty-odd years of religious turmoil. In those decades conformity was impossible.”(xv) Conformity of religion and stability of the state were primary goals of the Elizabethan Reformation. Kaufman declares that “To transform the nation, the bonds between crown, church and people had to be rewoven, into a cloth neither entirely new nor a replica of the old.”(12)

“This book places people of England at the heart of not just the local or cultural, but the political story of the Reformation and its remarkable and transformative effect on the world.”(6) At the end of Elizabeth’s reign England had experienced over forty years of peace. “Elizabeth began a process of Protestant religious change that left great scope for private personal belief, but little room for public disobedience or nonconformity.”(5) During the stability of the Elizabethan Reformation, people “had to create new understandings of authority, subordination, and power.”(5,6)

This book draws upon archival material from across the US and Great Britain. Primary sources are the parish ledgers where collection of dues, expenditures on parish maintenance, purchase of books, communion tables, and pews, and the costs associated with removing inappropriate items are recorded. It examines notices of visitations by the church to the parish and to particular people in the parish. It looks at requirements imposed on individuals to put them back into the good will of the church and the parish community after they have broken acceptable codes of behavior.

Kaufman states that “she takes seriously the scholarship of the past fifty years.” (v) This scholarship points out that “the late-medieval parish hummed with the energy of the laity. What differed in the Elizabethan parish is that this energy had been harnessed and directed by the state.” (87) Michael Braddick stated, “the increasingly centralized English state relied on a system of local agents to expand, maintain, and deepen its power.” (87) Ethan Shagan and Eamon Duffy “clarified the ways in which the old world was destroyed and challenged our understanding of why this destruction occurred.” (12) “The goal of Kaufman’s book is to explore “how a society was able to rebuild after an episode of massive, even violent, change.” (12)

Kaufman explores themes which become apparent in her chapters. “The first main theme is the increasing involvement of the laity in the Elizabethan parish.”(17) A second theme: “The Elizabethan Reformation emphasized results, not process.”(19) A third theme “is the legacy of history and memory of the Reformation.”(20) The fourth theme “is the theme of compulsory community.”(21)The book rests upon five chapters that give different aspects of what the crown and church asked of its people, how the people responded, and how the English Church evolved.

Chapter 1: Bounding the Parish, “investigates new efforts by the state church to make the parish legible, from increasing the frequency and efficacy of visitations to more closely bounding the parish.” (16) The church endeavored to include every English person into a specific parish. They also kept track of the behavior of all the parishioners in each parish to ensure they regularly attended church in their own parish, and how often they took communion. Churchwardens helped identify people who were not following rules. They might also notify church officials of bad behavior on the part of clerics and parishioners who violated acceptable norms. “By enforcing strict notions of residency and by mandating compulsory attendance within these boundaries, the Elizabethan church defined the parish community.”(52)

Chapter 2: Policing the Parish, “explores the policing and governing of the parish, particularly the growth in both power and authority wielded by the churchwarden and the vestry.”(16) Lay men in the parish often vied to be churchwardens. The position required considerable work, but it also provided esteem and responsibility. The Churchwardens were to collect funds and keep the church well maintained. Churchwardens also warned people if they were violating church or parish rules. If a warning did not correct a person’s behavior, then the churchwarden would send a complaint to church authorities. “The English Reformation was policed by its own people.”(88)

Chapter 3: Funding the Parish, “dives into the material culture of the parish, looking particularly at its financial implications.”(16,17) Churchwardens collected tithes, money for the poor, rental fees for pews, and special fees for parish activities. Early in Elizabeth’s reign Churchwardens had to implement the removal of inappropriate items left over from Queen Mary’s reign. Altars had to be removed and replaced with communion tables. Crucifixes had to be removed; pictures of saints had to be painted over. Removal of Catholic features and purchase of necessary Protestant elements took time, money, and effort. Conformity of appearance was important in the parish churches. Nevertheless, different parishes responded in different time frames, sometimes because of a lack of funds. Pews in bench and box forms became an important form of parish revenue.

Chapter 4: Taxing the Parish (134) “analyzes the methods and means by which parochial tithes were reshaped and administered in the Elizabethan parish.”(17) Tithing was an ancient and important form of tax revenue. Custom was often the determinant of what someone owed the parish. If a person customarily paid tithes in money, the parish might suffer a loss of real income due to inflation. Parishes might insist upon payment in grain or animals to offset the loss. These settlements were often contested and went to court. Sometimes the outcome rested on custom not fairness.

Chapter 5: Receiving in the parish (181) “examines the role of sacramental conformity in the English church, looking at both rates of reception and the mechanisms by which conformity was enforced.”(17) Kaufman provides an analysis of conformity to participation in communion over time. There were many reasons why people would take communion with the members of their parish. Doing so demonstrated that they belonged to a community, were in good fellowship with their neighbors, and were showing faith in Christ which was essential for salvation. The 1603 “census reported slightly over 2.5 million communicants in England. The total number of recusants listed was 8,500.” (219) This level of conformity to religious practice was extraordinary. It was remarkable in comparison to the discord of 1549.

The success of the Elizabethan Reformation: maintaining peace; giving people a clear understanding of the beliefs and practices of their state religion; providing a sense of a shared community for the vast majority of English subjects, took place through the collaboration of church and state, and because individual people were able to participate in and benefit from their parish and English society.

Kaufman, A People’s Reformation: Building the English Church in the Elizabethan Parish

Lucy Moffat Kaufman’s A People’s Reformation: Building the English Church in the Elizabethan Parish presents a new perspective on the roles of local parishes and their members as contributing agents to the English Reformation.

To make her case, she challenges the traditional historiography that portrays the English Reformation as a top-down process, in which the church and the Crown impose the theology of the Thirty-Nine Articles with “an iron fist,” demanding “strict conformity.” She maintains that these histories ignore social history and the essential role of people at the grassroots level in establishing the Reformation in England.

Instead of the top-down history, Kaufman seeks to present a unique perspective on the symbiotic relationships between the Crown and the People. She states that her book argues that the Reformation was mandated by the state but built by its people (p. 22). She further maintains that “Only by joining together these two disparate historiographies can we begin to approach an understanding of this fundamental shift in English society” (p. 16). In other words, Kaufman maintains that this new reformed church was built both from the top down and the bottom up (p. 18).

However, her efforts to balance the state’s and the people’s roles are in stark tension throughout the book. Her dilemma is twofold. First, how to counter the top-down authority in traditional history, and second, how far she can push the boundaries to support the people’s agency and impact on the English Reformation.

Before addressing how she supported her thesis, let’s first examine some of the book’s methods and sources. Kaufman organized her book in a traditional topical or thematic structure, focusing on specific subjects rather than presenting a chronological narrative. Her thematic approach is well-suited to in-depth analysis of the social and political trends she examines.

Her topics are presented as individual chapters. In the chapter “Bounding,” she examines identification and visitation in the parish. In the chapter “Policing,” she explores the growth of the churchwardens’ power. In the chapter on “Funding,” she examines the parish’s finances. In “Taxing,” she explores the administration of tithes in the parish. Finally, in “Receiving,” she looks at the practices surrounding the sacraments, particularly communion.

In researching each of these themes, Kaufman relies heavily on primary sources. Accordingly, given her focus, she maintains that “As much as possible, I have tried to draw from primary source materials across the country” (p. 295). The vast majority of the archival and printed material is contemporary with the period covered.

Kaufman limits her use of secondary sources. She notes that most histories have examined the parliamentary and ecclesiastical elite while ignoring the experiences of the broader population. She also questions the usefulness of social histories, arguing that they often sideline religion (p. 15).

With this background, let’s first examine how Kaufman responded to traditional historiographical views of the English Reformation.

When she comments on the modern historical record, she often treats it as a straw man and challenges its interpretation. In these instances, she does not name the historian; instead, she simply states that she disagrees with the historiography. This silencing of opposing views might be the weakest element of her book.

Several examples appear throughout the book. For example, regarding the historiographical record of churchwardens, she notes that they are unsatisfactory, writing, “While the figures of churchwardens are found scattered throughout the historiography of the Reformation . . . where it exists, tends to focus on its long history, emphasizing either its late-medieval origins or its seventeenth-century articulations” (p. 75 online).

Regarding parish buildings, she writes, the historiography makes dire claims, while “the archival evidence is quite startling. Where we might expect vast swathes of crumbling churches… contemporary accounts paint a far more vibrant and robust picture” (p. 113 online).

When discussing the economic health of an Elizabethan parish, she notes that “Despite the… gloomy perspective of modern historiography, the economic realities of the Elizabethan church were far from a disaster… On the whole, though, the church coped rather well” (p. 179).

Finally, in discussing excommunication, she argues that the “traditional historiographical position” says the discipline lacks enforcement. But Kaufman counters this view by simply stating that “more recent research has emphasized the efficacy of such sentences” (p. 233).

By fully disclosing and countering these alternative traditional histories, she might have strengthened her overall arguments in the book.

The second challenge Kaufman faced was advocating for the people’s role in the English Reformation without minimizing the state’s and the church’s obvious roles. Throughout her book, Kaufman worked hard to support her complementary thesis that both had a role in the Reformation. She attempts to maintain a careful balance, arguing that the people’s response to the Reformation was not primarily a top-down process driven by obedience to the Crown and the religious hierarchy, but also a bottom-up process reflecting the people’s willingness and active participation in the Reformation.

To achieve this, she carefully and consistently describes the joint role of the church and the people, for example, by writing, “despite the strict conformity demanded by the church and crown, the lived experiences and choices of the English people fundamentally shaped the English Reformation” (p. 5).

Clearly, the Crown launched the English Reformation, but to underscore the people’s role, she notes the duration of the change. She says, “The transformation of the parish took years, even decades, to put into place. Change trickled in over time” (p. 245). This longer view of history provides more strength to the later involvement of the parish.

Another example of this historical balancing act appears in her discussion of churchwardens. She acknowledges that the role and many of its responsibilities had existed for a long time, noting “To be sure, the pre-Reformation model of churchwardens had included some degree of moral regulation” (p. 59) and “By the time of the Henrician Reformation, churchwardens had been overseeing the parish for 275 years” (p. 54). However, she argues that by the 1550s the office was fully vested with the power and the requirement to report moral disorder, stating, “Wardens were no longer to be mere administrative, but also arbiters of discipline.” Furthermore, by 1571, the Church’s Canons even required churchwardens to regulate the clergy (pp. 58-59).

When it comes to parish finances, we again see the need for balance and the interplay between the authority of the state and the participation of the parish. Kaufman notes that “The central authority issues requirements and polices compliance, but the operations of parish finance were dominated by the decisions and needs of the individual parishes” (p. 133).

Finally, Kaufman points to the Ecclesiastica Census of 1603, which highlighted the extent of most citizens’ compliance with the Reformation’s communion requirements. Communion was perhaps the most sensitive and significant theological issue. The Census found that of the 2.25 million parishioners included, only 8,500 were listed as recusants (p. 219). These findings would certainly affirm the people’s full compliance with the English Reformation, but they also represent data nearly half a century after the beginning of this transformation.

Stepping back from these two challenges, it is likely that the book would have been strengthened by directly giving voice to the traditional historiographical views and challenging their conclusions. When it came to supporting the dual roles of the state and the people, she avoided overstating the people’s role and struck the balance necessary to make her case credible and acceptable.

The Western Rising of 1549

Mark Stoyle states his aim is “to provide a new history of the Western Rising , and to consider the disturbances afresh.” (3) In several ways Stoyle highlights that with slight changes the rising might have been successful.

The Western Rising of 1549, also called the Prayer Book Rebellion, took place in Devon and Cornwall. The first part of Stoyle’s history describes background events that took place under Henry  VIII, and disturbances that took place before 1549. One precursor to the rebellion was a dispute between Nicolles, a young evangelist, who bates a church canon, Crispin, who is comfortable with traditional religion, but realizes he is out of step with the Crown. Stoyle argues this public dispute revealed the strong religious divisions existing in the West Country before 1549. (292) The rising had critical precedents, and events were driven by activity coming from outside the West Country.

The second part of the history consists of four chapters, including the outbreak of rebellion in June 1549, a period of escalation during the first half of July, intense battles in the second half of July, and finally the defeat of the rebellion in August 1549. One of Stoyle’s most important findings about the battles is that “the initial gathering of Cornish rebels did not take place on 6 June,” as misstated in records after the battles were over, “but on 6 July.”  This meant “Humphrey Arundell and his lieutenants managed to gather their forces and march to Exeter in just three weeks.” (293) Had Cornish forces gotten to Exeter more quickly while Russell’s troops were inadequate, the final outcome of the rising might have been different.(293)

The third part describes retribution imposed on the people of Devon and Cornwall after the rebellion was defeated. A second chapter describes events in London, which Stoyle calls aftershocks. In this section Stoyle points out that political machinations after the rising was put down came close to achieving the goals of the rebels, to return to a more traditional form of worship they had experienced before Henry VIII died, but it did not.(294) Some might argue that the strength of the evangelical, reformed religious position was too strong for that the happen.

Stoyle begins by explaining that in Devon and Cornwall “most ordinary people were deeply attached to their traditional faith.” (22) Parishioners paid to maintain their beautiful churches with stained-glass windows, paintings, and a crucifix. In 1532 Thomas Cranmer was made Archbishop of Canterbury. He was a churchman of strong reform leanings. In 1534 the Act of Supremacy declared that the king was head of the Church of England. “Having brought the Church completely under his control, Henry was now determined to take revenge on the religious orders, which he regarded as the chief centers of resistance to the royal supremacy.” (26)

Royal injunctions issued to the clergy in 1536 required they explain the royal supremacy and deny the power of the pope.  The Ten Articles, the Church of England’s first statement of independent doctrine was “followed by a church statement ordering that the dedication feasts of all churches should henceforth be held in early October, and that their traditional patronal festivals, or church holy days, should no longer be observed. (27) People in the West Country were upset that they could not have their separate ceremonies honoring their churches. A story emerged of a member of a parish who asked a painter to create a religious banner for a procession to take place on Pardon Monday. The banner would show people appealing to Christ to tell the king to let people have their parish celebrations. This was alarming to Henry VIII at a time when the Pilgrimage of Grace was taking place; a rebellion driven by anger at Henry and Cromwell’s actions.

Because Edward VI was nine when his father died in 1547, it was necessary for others in the privy council to direct his actions. Edward Seymour, (who became duke of Somerset; referred to as Somerset going forward), brother to Edward VI’s dead mother, maneuvered to be the protector of the realm and the chief guide of his nephew. Somerset became the de facto king of England. Somerset was determined to continue Henry’s expensive wars. He was also determined to drive through “a radical religious policy.” (45) Somerset and Thomas Cranmer placed more religious reformers in Devon and Cornwall. Simon Haynes, an evangelical, was appointed to be dean of Exeter Cathedral. Haynes, Sir Gawen Carew, and Sir Peter Courtenay, all reform-minded, were made JPs in Devon. The powerful Arundell family lost two places as Justice of the peace in Cornwall. They were replaced by reform-minded Sir William Godolphin and Sir Richard Grenville who became the “most senior JPs.” (46) JPs formed the powerful council that was responsible for local control.(46) Somerset and Cranmer placed people of their mindset in the West Country

In July 1547 a new set of royal injunctions for the governance of the English Church “to plant true religion“ was published. Many of these injunctions erased  practices acceptable before and during the reign of Henry VIII. (48) Additionally, all parishioners were to be able to read the Lord’s Prayer and the Ten Commandments in English. In early 1549 during the reign of Edward VI, two acts were passed by Parliament. The Act of Uniformity decreed that the liturgy in Latin should be abolished, and it should be replaced with the Book of Common Prayer which was written in English. (80) A second Act, the Act for the Relief of Sheep and Cloth, granted the Crown the ability to impose new taxes on sheep and cloth. (80) In Devon and Cornwall raising sheep for wool and manufacturing cloth were important economic activities. Demonstrations against enclosures had been happening since 1548.

According to John Hooker who lived through these events, some parishioners complained to the priest of their church in Sampford Courtney, Devon, on Monday June 10, 1549. The Parishioners told their priest that they wanted to continue with the service as it had been done under King Henry VIII. They also claimed King Henry had stated that nothing should change under Edward VI until he had “come into his full age.”(86) Other parishioners joined in. The priest gave in to the parishioners’ request and performed the service in the old manner. After the service the people remained at the church and celebrated. Local magistrates, JPs, also came to the church. It was their job to admonish the people and the priest that they must follow the Act of Uniformity, but they did not do so. All over Devon people supported what had happened at Sampford Courtney. William Hellions, “a minor gentleman, or perhaps a yeoman” did speak to the parishioners and tell them they had to participate in the new service using the Book of Common Prayer.(94) He was taken to a church house where people were gathered. There Hellions continued to argue with the parishioners, but they attacked and killed him.

The Crown sent Peter and Sir Gawen Carew to Devon to resolve the issue. When they arrived in Exeter, they learned people from all over Devon were gathered 7 miles away in Crediton.  They had set up barricades and chosen a spot close to Exeter, the regional capital. The Carews and a support party approached Crediton on Saturday, June 22 intending to talk with the people. The protestors had created a strong position, and they “refused to negotiate.” (101) Hooker implies that the protestors fired first, but Stoyle cautions that Hooker is biased, and although he is frequently the only source available, it is necessary to view his opinions cautiously. It may have been the Carews that began fire. A battle ensued. It was this event that began the rising of 1549. People in Devon had killed a man who disagreed with their right to have church services as they had done when Henrry VIII was king. They fired on people who represented the crown.

Stoyle describes how the common people’s commitment to rebellion eventually drew in members of the gentry and lords of Devon. The city of Exeter did not permit the rebels to enter. Somerset responded to the rising by directing Lord John Russell to put down the rebellion. Russell struggled to get sufficient troops to defeat the rebels because of the many problems the Crown faced at that time. When he received support with the help of mercenaries, he was able to defeat the Cornish rebel forces at Sampford Courtenay. Some scholars have suggested that the rising was a class war, but Stoyle asserts this was untrue. There were powerful people in the West Country who also wished for a more traditional religion, and they joined forces with commoners. A new look at the rising also points out the importance of the Arundell family that supported the rebels.(295)

Stoyle A Murderous Midsummer Review – CHall

Mark Stoyle’s A Murderous Midsummer: The Western Rising of 1549 is a compelling retelling of the Tudor uprising commonly known as ‘The Prayer Book Rebellion’ which also makes precise, but salient interventions into the relevant historiography. Stoyle, a Professor of history at the University of South Hampton, is an expert in the early modern West Country and Exeter among other subjects. He brings this background to bear to provide an authority and nuanced understanding of the region and the ‘Western Rising’ (Stoyle prefers this term over ‘Prayer Book Rebellion’ as the participants would not have considered themselves rebels).

Stoyle’s principal argument is that the Western Rising was a significant political event motivated by religious discontent which came far closer to directly toppling the Duke of Somerset’s regency and the English Reformation than many scholars have previously acknowledged. These historians often depict the Western Rising as a “quixotic enterprise that was bound to end in failure,” a proposition which Stoyle firmly rejects (Stoyle, 290). Instead, Stoyle makes a series of arguments, the others beyond those discussed below can be found in his conclusion, which illuminate the severity of the crisis for the regime in London, the potency of the uprising and its participants, and embed the Western Rising in a broader historical context. One of these arguments is that the rebellion in Cornwall broke out on July 6 not June 6 (Stoyle, 126). Stoyle uses a variety of evidence to show that the indictment drawn up against Humphrey Arundell and John Winslade, which lists the date as June 6, is false. For example, he points to the accounts of John Killigrew which list a transfer of garrison forces to the Isles of Scilly in June of that year, an event that would suggest no uprising had occurred yet in Cornwall (Stoyle, 127-128). This sub argument is significant to Stoyle’s overall thesis as it places the raising of and march east of the Cornish host to within a shorter three-week period. Such a condensed time frame demonstrates that “Somerset was by no means as hopelessly out of touch with what was going on in the far South-West during the initial stages of the rising as has often been claimed” and that “from the regime’s point of view, the western rebels’ movements must have looked far more purposeful and menacing” (Stoyle, 293). This serves as one example of how Stoyle deftly demonstrates that the Tudor world was one “that the West Country insurgents of 1549 came much closer than is generally realised to turning upside down” (Stoyle, 7).

Another central element of Stoyle’s approach is that he situates the Western Uprising in a larger historical context, both geographically and temporally. He breaks A Murderous Midsummer into three main divisions: Part I The Background, Part II The Rising, and Part III The Aftermath. In Part I Stoyle provides an overview of the geography and society of the West Country, explaining its unique and defining qualities. In addition, and perhaps more importantly, he situates the region in the context of over a decade of religious upheaval preceding the uprising. For example, he recounts the friction and even open opposition which Henry VIII’s first set of royal injunctions in 1536 caused in Cornwall and Exeter describing how a mob of women attacked royal agents sent to enforce the injunctions in Exeter (Stoyle, 29).

In Chapter 2 Foreshocks Stoyle reconstructs another story of religious unrest, this time of a “short-lived uprising” in West Cornwall in 1548. He frames this uprising as “the product of popular outrage at Somerset’s religious polices” (Stoyle, 71). In addition to a general religious traditionalism in opposition to the Reformation and Act of Uniformity, Stoyle also highlights that most of the area’s population still spoke Cornish and therefore were unlikely to have taken kindly to “the message of the Reformation – preached as that message invariably was, in English” (Stoyle, 73). By illuminating these various tumultuous events in the West Country sparked by controversy around the English Reformation, Stoyle places the Western Rising in a lineage of religious unrest and unease. He energetically rejects the notion that the rising had started as a social protest claiming that such an argument “seems to fly in the face of the surviving evidence” (Stoyle, 295). Instead, he further substantiates the position of Frances Rose-Troup and Aubrey Greenwood that the Western Rising was first and foremost a religious matter.

While in Part II of A Murderous Midsummer Stoyle recounts and analyses the actual uprising itself, it is in Part III which he again expands his scope to significantly bolster his argument. In Chapter 8 Aftershocks, Stoyle portrays the complex political maneuvering in the aftermath of the uprising’s defeat in a new light. Rather than just an intrigue which toppled Somerset and decided the new dominant faction at the royal court, he argues that within this struggle “the prospect was at least fleetingly to arise that the cause of traditional religion… might still triumph” (Stoye, 256). Despite their military defeat, Stoyle emphasizes the near success and the seismic impact of the western rebels in this following London centered contest to “reinforce the argument that the insurgents should not be written off as hopeless reactionaries” (Stoyle, 294). Situating the Western Uprising both in a rich preceding context of religious unrest and local peculiarity and in its following reverberations in the center of state power is one of Stoyle’s strongest contributions.

Stoyle employs a variety of sources such as manuscripts, court and county rolls, and correspondence. While he attempts to use a mix of local and state sources, he is limited by a lack of surviving eyewitness accounts, particularly from the perspective of the insurgents. As a result, Stoyle methodologically relies on critical reading and reading against the grain of his many sources to try and overcome the potential biases and shortcomings of the materials which do exist. The most significant example of this are the various accounts of eyewitness John Hooker, a local Exeter man, Reformation evangelical, and one of the besieged in Exeter during the uprising. Hooker’s writings “remain, to this day, the chief primary sources on which all subsequent histories of the rebellion have been based” making them both a key source to Stoyle’s research and other historians he is in conversation with (Stoyle, 83). However, throughout A Murderous Midsummer Stoyle questions, cross references against, and attempts to contextualize Hooker’s accounts to guard against their “biases and distortions” and avoid retelling “his [Hooker’s] vision when reconstructing the story of the Western Rising” (Stoyle, 85). Stoyle applies this critical reading to other sources, such as the indictment drawn up against Arundell and Winslade, and although at times it necessitates ambiguity or speculation, the academic integrity and rigor of his analysis are clear.

Mark Stoyle’s A Murderous Midsummer is a robust monograph which recounts the Western Rising of 1549 in detail and adds valuable contributions to the subject’s historiography. While at times Stoyle’s writing can appear to harbor sympathies for the rebels, this potential bias does not overtake the work. It is also just as likely that the positive presentation of the insurgent cause is as much a product of his thesis and its attempts to refute the notion that they were foolish and doomed from the start. Like any work which seeks to give a greater voice to a less represented group in the historiography, such as Christopher Dyer’s Peasants Making History: Living In an English Region 1200-1540, this monograph emphasizes their importance. In doing so, Stoyle illustrates how unique contributions can be made even to already strong historiographies.