Book Reviews

Roper, L. H. Advancing Empire: English Interests and Overseas Expansion, 1613-1688. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2017. 

L. H. Roper writes a thoroughly researched book on the early years of the British Empire. Roper does not use the kingdom’s perspective but instead looks at the merchants and trade company leaders who expanded the empire in a quest for wealth. Roper argues that the central government in London was reluctant to take the lead in establishing new colonies but instead permitted private individuals to found colonies on their behalf. Tracing the actions of private individuals gives the book a bottom-up approach towards the empire. Roper’s approach breathes life into the empire and shows that the British Empire created in the 18th century was not inevitable. Actions made by private individuals shaped the colonial experience of Britain in the early years of the empire. 

Two significant events that occurred in the early stage of the English empire were the English Civil War and the Restoration of Charles II. The English Civil War was a significant moment in the 1600s and marked a detour in the colonial history of England. Colonial leaders, such as Maurice Thompson, detested that Charles I collected tariffs on trade in the colonies but did not keep the army in a position to protect and contest colonial holdings. Thompson was the principal tobacco merchant in Virginia. Thompson held considerable sway in the Americas and circles in London. With his power in both America and England, Thompson was able to rally people to the side of the Parlament in the early 1640s. 

The Restoration of Charles II brought the experience of the parliamentary government to an end. With Charles II in the power of England, the colonial experience was similar to the reign of Charles I. Tariffs were collected with all trade from the colonies, and merchants lost a stream of money that was secured between the powers of Charles I and II. The restoration in 1660 sparked an influx in development in Asia. Thompson was appointed to head the East India Company, and investors believed that Thompson would boost the money made by the Company. The Gunia Company in West Africa was also reorganized with a single figure at the head of the Company. English expansion exploded in Asia and Africa during this time, and Charles II watched as his empire grew. 

Throughout the book, Roper notes instances where the government in London was dragged into conflict with other European nations by individuals who lived in the colonies or had an economic interest in English expansion. The most prominent example of colonial conflict expanding into a European war was the Second Dutch-Anglo war in 1664. English privateers captured Dutch ships to expand English influence in the Americas and Africa. King Charles I sent a representative to the English African Company to protect them from Dutch incursions. The British sent a force to capture the Dutch colony of New Netherland. Shortly after the capture of New Netherland, England declared war on the Netherlands. The interests of the colonial companies drug England into their second war with the Netherlands. 

The government of Charles I granted the power to establish English holdings throughout the Americas, Asia, and Africa to private citizens and had to suffer the consequences of their actions. Throughout the early days of the English empire, colonial companies had few limits on their power in their region of the world. The English colonial Company raised their armies to defend their territorial and economic interests in Asia and India. Colonial companies also had the power to interact with governments in their region. The colonial companies became political entities that could coordinate foreign policy with sovereign nations. The companies did not have to rely on the government in London to conduct trade and policy with sovereign nations and could make policies that benefited them. 

Roper provides a fresh outlook on how the English Empire expanded into the larger British Empire in the 18th century. The first three chapters give a perspective on three different regions of English Expansion; America, Africa, and Asia. All three of these regions provided the bases for the English Empire to expand to markets worldwide. Roper brings together previous scholarship to navigate how his work fits into historiography. I appreciated that he included previous scholarship because it provides a basis to understand how Roper sees his work. Having the ability to see how the author views their work offers a window into the author’s thoughts. 

Roper uses several sources that bring together government documents and references from nongovernmental sources. Roper does note that previous scholarship has leaned towards government documents and provides a skewed sense of the early English Empire. Previous scholarship shows that the government was the leading proponent of English expansion. However, when one uses nongovernmental sources, a clearer picture is that colonial companies pushed for the growth of English land and markets for their products. The government in London was reactionary towards colonial expansion and conflict. Charles I and II did not take the lead in establishing new colonies throughout the world. Instead, they gave the ability to found colonies to colonial companies that could act on behalf of the king. 

Roper provides a fresh outlook on the early years of the English Empire and challenges the previous notion that the king lead colonial expansion. I became lost whenever he introduced new people from the colonial companies throughout some parts of the book. Roper writes in a way that requires some previous knowledge of English colonial history. Some moments are glossed over, and he does not go into detail in those moments. Overall, Advancing Empire is a good book that showcases the pitfalls of previous scholarship and provides answers to fill in the gaps. He gives a new argument that brings to light new sources and argumentation. Without reading Advancing Empire, a clear understanding of the basis of the English Empire would be incomplete with the actions of private citizens pushed to the fringe. 

Reviewed by Tyler Thompson. 

Peter Marshall, Heretics and Believers: A History of the English Reformation. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2017. 652 pages. Reviewed by : Edward Kirsch

Peter Marshall’s Heretics and Believers: A History of the English Reformation is a thoroughly researched history of the Reformation in England that argues the often violent seesawing changes of the English Reformation “were indeed principally about religion” and emphatically not “merely a convenient covering” for disputes over “political power, social domination or economic assets” as asserted by some prior historians. Rather, he argues “religion was interwoven inextricably into the fabric of virtually all other abstractions from the messy interplay of human existence: society, politics, culture, gender, art, literature, economy.” (xi) Peter Marshall is an accomplished Reformation historian and professor at the University of Warwick and well suited to drive this theme home. He won the 2018 Wolfson History Prize for this book – his tenth book on the English Reformation. The Prize is awarded by a panel of leading historians annually for one work published in the United Kingdom reflecting excellence in the writing of history for the general public. Marshall was a good choice for the award. Marshall’s history is accessible to the general reader and engaging as it brings to life the theological disputes and political machinations that comprised the English Reformation with the personal stories of both elites and common English people, vividly bringing forth the humanity of these believers – each of them heretics to others.

Marshall adeptly distills social history and weaves it into a chronological history of the English Reformation that extends from the late medieval period through the reign of Elizabeth I. He makes extensive use of the work of Eamon Duffy to follow the responses of common people to the often inconsistent changes in theology, ritual, law, and practices imposed by the different monarchs and religious elites over a sixty year span. He recounts, for example, that at Morebath in Devon during the 1554 Marion Restoration of Catholic ritual, the church wardens, common parishioners, and Vicar Christopher Trychay worked together to rapidly restore the infrastructure of Catholic worship despite limited means. Morebath parishioners returned precious items hidden from the “iconoclastic storm” of Edward VI’s reign such as images of the Virgin Mary, figures from the old dismantled Rood, and Catholic books. Marshall notes that the “compliance rate” for restoration of ritual objects in parishes across England was “strikingly high” indicating that “many [religious objects] were hidden rather than destroyed in Edward’s reign.” (380)

Structurally, the book is divided into four parts. The extensive Part One entitled “Reformations before Reformation” (119 pages in length) is a strength. Here Marshall argues late Medieval Christianity was a “remarkably dynamic and diverse” world with religious leaders, Lollards, Erasmus, and Christian humanists actively criticizing and seeking to reform the Church which “makes later developments seem, if not predictable, then at least explicable.” (xvii, 119) He concludes the “wellsprings of the Reformation movement” came “from deep within the devotional core of medieval Christianity” rather than merely pent-up resentments against immoral priests, indulgences, and other such issues as portrayed in other histories. (149)

In Part II, entitled “Separations,” Marshall describes how Henry VIII’s obsession in securing papal approval of an annulment of his marriage to Catherine of Aragon combined with the “seemingly unconnected” protests of Luther against papal authority and ultimately opened a pandora’s box of “instability and incoherence” dubbed the “Henrician Reformation” by historians. (xvii) Marshall shows that although the Henrician Reformation was top-down and state imposed, common people and parish priests were far from passive in response. These responses ranged from unauthorized preaching of rival theologies to the massive movement known as the Pilgrimage of Grace which mobilized some 50,000 adherents of traditional religion and “wrested a third of the kingdom from the royal grasp.” (253)

Throughout the work, Marshall’s lively storytelling is not hindered by his relatively concise discussions of theology as with some other histories because he typically features anecdotes in which leading protagonists such as Thomas More and William Tyndale, for example, engage in disputes, in one case over Tyndale’s vernacular translation of the Bible, to illustrate theological points. (132-134, 201-202)

In a theme carried throughout the work, Marshall argues the firestorm unleashed by Henry VIII in banning the rosary, lighting of candles, prayers for the dead, pilgrimages and other rituals, and the dissolution of the monasteries served to change the meaning of “religion” itself. As he put it: “what once had been an inherited stake in the ritual life of the community was becoming – for some – an alternative, ideological marker of individual and group identity.” (266) Henry was creating “New Christianities” as the title of Part III of the book suggests as more people read the vernacular Bible and engaged with theology. More and more common people, radical preachers, and others chose increasingly to fashion their “religion” and teach it, rather than merely receive it from authorities whether as royal fiat or medieval Catholic tradition. (270)

In Part III, Marshall discusses developments under the reigns of Edward VI and Mary I. Marshall characterizes 1548, the second year of Edward VI’s reign, as the “tipping point” when England was divided from the Catholic church as a zealous minority embarked on “a festival of destruction” to destroy all religious images, altars, and other infrastructure, altering not only the aesthetics but also imposing a “devotional revolution.” (310, 315) Marshall observes that by late 1553, “Mary’s government had restored the religious settlement of Henry VIII and more, to widespread if far from universal satisfaction.” (366) Further, far from being the “rather stupid” political neophyte described by Geoffrey Elton, Mary could be pragmatic and intelligent, for example, wisely refraining from reclaiming monastic properties for the Catholic church despite the urging of the Pope and Cardinal Pole. (366, 389, Samson 5)

Marshall’s treatment of Mary I’s rise to power is consistent with that of Alexander Samson’s later book Mary and Phillip published in 2021. Both author’s portray an often cunning Mary Tudor who executed a plan for acquiring power and “slipped the net” of Northumberland to raise her forces, belying the notion that she was both uneducated and unprepared as argued by an older generation of historians. (357, Samson 28-32) Both authors note that Mary was sensitive to her subject’s concerns from the outset and ensured her husband Phillip’s “inherent Englishness was a theme of the triumphal royal entry into London.” (377) Both authors also place Mary I in the vanguard of the counterreformation. For example, she ordered the establishment of seminaries to educate boys, especially the poor, to improve the quality of parish priests. Marshall underscores that this reform was subsequently adopted by the Council of Trent “in what is widely considered its most significant reforming measure.” (401, Samson 9)

In Part IV, “Unattainable Prize,” Marshall examines developments under Elizabeth I’s reign. He argues that by 1559 Elizabeth’s government had largely restored the Edwardian church; however, “a watershed had been reached.” (434) Elizabeth viewed this as the end point of the Reformation while the reforming clergy and many lay Protestants saw it as an ongoing process toward perfection in which much remained to be done. (434-435) Puritans, Presbyterians and radical reformers consistently pressed Elizabeth I for further reforms that she largely resisted. Marshall describes Elizabeth as “a Nicodemite queen . . . willing to reign as a queen of Nicodemites. (449) However, the battles over vestments in 1565-67 and other disputes between the Queen and Protestant clergy revealed many of her subjects refused the Nicodemite path resulting in the emergence of Puritan and Presbyterian movements. (476) Marshall concludes that although England was majority Catholic at the time of Mary I’s reign, by the 1580s “quietly conformist Protestants were very likely in the majority in most” of England. (543)

Gender, Culture and Politics in England, 1560-1640: Turning the World Upside Down is a book that aims at exploring the intersections of different ideas concerning gender and power in early modern England. With a focus on the symbolic theme of turning the world upside down, the authors explore the various instances in which through print culture, theater, and pageantry common English people attempted to invert the social order. Additionally, Susan D. Amussen and David D. Underdown spent quite a lot of time analyzing how the society of England viewed people who were considered “unruly women” or “failed patriarchs”. This book takes a very analytical approach to history, drawing from both primary and secondary sources to open the reader’s eyes to the gendered issues and controversies that existed in Early Modern England. Both Amussen and Underdown are (and were) experts in the fields of power, gender, and class in Early Modern England giving them great experiences and knowledge to write the book. The book was started by Underdown until he passed away, and was finished by Amussen. At first, this may seem like it could cause some rifts in writing style and ideas within the book, Amussen managed to seamlessly finish Underdown’s ideas by blending both of their knowledge bases into one.  

With seven chapters including the introduction and conclusion, this book is organized by theme and idea. Each chapter analyzes a different troubling aspect of British society within the years 1560-1640. Beginning with the idea of unruly women, and ending with witches, the concept of an upside-down social order is weaved throughout the chapters to keep readers engaged with the main ideas. Chapter 1: Unruly Women discusses a variety of women who stepped out of the prescribed social order of the time, and the consequences they were often met with. During this time, women were meant to be under the care of their husband or father, staying at home and tending to the house. However, many women during this time stepped out of this boundary and were met with criticism like scathing pamphlets such as Swetam’s Arraignment of women. Other consequences of being “unruly” could have included being publicly shamed, going to court, or being accused of witchcraft. Amussen and Underdown show that women who attempted to flip the social order were often met with suspicion. However, it was not only women who flipped the hierarchy. Chapter 2: Failed Patriarchs focused on men who failed to live and govern like proper men of the time. The authors showcase several men of power who engaged in nefarious activities throughout their lifetime, and how they were viewed by society. James I is focused on heavily in this chapter, and he had a close-knit group of friends and advisors during his reign in which he engaged in activities that proved him to be a weak ruler. These included favoritism, partying, all the way to sodomy, and homoerotic behaviors. In this chapter, it is argued that many of the problems that come with unruly women and caused by the poor governing of patriarchs and failure to keep order. 

Chapters 3 and 4 focus on the inversion of social order on the big stage through theater, and on the local stage through carnival pageantry performances and shaming rituals such as Charivaris. Within these chapters, we see how the outcasts of men and women come together to start to analyze English hierarchies as a whole. Within the theater, Amussen and Underdown use various examples of tragedies and comedies to show what English society thought of the social order. Tragedies were often used to show people what may happen if you step too far out of the prescribed social order often ending in many deaths as a warning. On the other hand, comedies used the inversion of the social order to make people laugh. It is difficult to tell how much audiences actually took away from these performances to use as advice for their daily lives. It is reasonable to assume that some playwrights created these works to provide commentary on the hierarchies they were witnessing throughout their lives. Chapter 4 focuses on street pageants that were often held during times of festivals and carnivals in early Modern England. Oftentimes these pageants contained elements on Charivaris where the townspeople would act out shameful things town politicians or officers had done. These pageants were used as a fun way to comment on the politics of the time, but conflict often arose. One example the authors use is from the town of Wells where a town official got so offended by the festivities that it went all the way to the Star Chamber. The conflict between church and government often was played out in these settings because many puritans disagreed with the festivities that occurred during the month of May. Lastly, Chapter 5 explores witchcraft and how that intersected with gender, politics, and society of early modern England. The authors argue within this chapter how the fears of social hierarchies being threatened lead to the fears of witches and magic. 

Although not explicitly stated at the beginning of the book, in the conclusion the authors state that readers of the history of early modern England need to begin taking a more integrated approach to analyzing politics, society, and culture of this time. When historians engage in this intersectional thinking, new ideas and motivations may reveal themselves. In essence, this book is arguing for a more intersectional approach to early modern English history. Oftentimes, books about this time period will focus on one or two issues, events, or themes. However, this book examines the ideas of gender, culture, and politics through the lenses of political power, gender roles, print culture, theatrics, pageantry, and witchcraft to give readers a better idea of what society was like during this time. Overall, the authors used the visual symbolism of an inverted world to explain to readers the anxieties that often came with the idea of a disordered society. 

The strengths of this book fall in the organization, sourcing, and choice of topics. As stated before this book is organized by theme which allows readers to easily follow along. The authors did not fail to always mention the theme that connected all of the chapters which is the idea of turning society upside down. The writing within each chapter was very well organized as well. The authors always mentioned how their specific examples were connected to the overall theme. In terms of topic, this book was very good at catching the eye of the reader simply because of the themes discussed. Sex, scandals, and theater are often themes that cause readers to pay more attention as seen with the new Netflix series Bridgerton. Without making this book too much of a “pop-history” the authors were able to balance academic language with interesting topics to write an eye-opening cultural and social history. 

In terms of weaknesses, a common problem with intersectional works is that they can be difficult to follow sometimes. At times in this book, the reader may start to wonder, “What is the author arguing again?” It was great that the author did not have a very specific goal or argument they were trying to accomplish because it allowed readers to get a wide-lens view of the topic. However, some readers may struggle with the “so what?” question as they are reading through this book. The author sometimes struggles to reconnect the visual symbolism of an inverted society to the examples they are explaining.

Angela Nicholls is an Associate Fellow at the university of Warwick whose research and stated interests on Warwick universities staff page “…focus on the provision of housing for the poor in early modern England, in particular the nature and variety of post-Reformation almshouses”.[1] Nicholls has published ‘only’ one book on the subject though she has written in other scholarly works and published several papers on related subjects. Almshouses in Early Modern England: Charitable Housing in the Mixed Economy of Welfare, 1550-1735 is an academic analysis of the nature of Almshouses and associated poor-relief charity in early modern England. Nicholls states as much in the books prologue and delivers on this promise throughout the book by analyzing almshouses in the English counties of Durham, Kent, and Warwickshire alongside an entire chapter dedicated to an in-depth exploration of a single almshouse in Nicholls native Warwick.

Nicholls main argument is that Almshouses in the early modern period were distinct from earlier forms of housing offered to the poor (namely medieval hospitals) and often far smaller and less well-endowed than the surviving examples of almshouses would suggest, with many consisting of a row of small cottages or a room or two in a larger home that would not have had the resources of the wealthier almshouse to persist over the centuries (61). Rather than maintaining a timeline of all concurrent changes to the structure and functions of almshouses over the centuries, Nicholls makes the structural decision to focus on one particular aspect of almshouses and any related developments over her chosen time period in each chapter while using her final ‘information-presenting’ chapter to show all these developments as they occur over the lifespan of a single almshouse. I personally found this approach to be extremely helpful in both understanding the changes to specific aspects of almshouse life such as accommodations, rules, stipends, and the like while providing a useful example with which to demonstrate how these changes were interconnected and combined to form a picture of life in a specific almshouse.

In my opinion, Nicholls seems to adequately address the concerns she raises with many of the common perceptions of almshouses and charity/poverty in early modern England while detailing how the physical and organizational structure of these institutions lead to certain outcomes such as the issues with inflation faced by many almshouses (164) or how changing attitudes towards the poor lead to changes in who would be admitted to an almshouse (93). One point that Nicholls mentions throughout the book is how the change in religious life in England brought about by Henry VIII changed or failed to change the practices and continuing existences of almshouses in England. Nicholls argues that the increase in poverty in England noticed in this time period had far more to do with population increases and growing urbanization rather than a decline in the number of almshouses in existence as a result of monastic forfeiture. Nicholls further argues that the stated justifications for founding almshouses simply shifted from explicitly catholic motivations towards more generalized Christian ones and that the founding of almshouses was never solely about theological concerns, as evidenced by the proliferation of almshouses meant specifically for certain trades and guild members (100).

Throughout this book, Nicholls uses primary sources mainly in the form of local records to illustrate her arguments while analyzing any data which does not ‘fit’ with the majority of her findings, often stressing the small and largely localized data sets that she is forced to use due to a lack of surviving records. Nicholls is very candid about her difficulties in finding large data sets with which to form generalizations and therefore is highly critical of earlier historians who did so (page 169 has a particularly noteworthy example that may border on excessive). Speaking of other historians, Nicholls frequently references the work of earlier historians throughout her work and makes ample use of secondary sources; making note of any inconsistencies between her own findings and the conclusions presented by her peers with varying degrees of favorableness (169). When reading the arguments and counterexamples, I feel that Nicholls got ‘lost in the reeds’ at times when discussing specific examples/exceptions towards her points; at times I found myself having to go back to earlier in the chapter to remind myself what the initial point of contention or example was, though this was not too frequent of an occurrence. Having said that, this heavy use of primary and secondary sources does appear to support the conclusions presented by Nicholls, namely that the situation of those residing within almshouses could vary drastically from one location to another and that ‘almsmen’ themselves were a diverse group that nevertheless did trend towards being elderly and poor.

Overall, I would say that this book is a good example of an academic work that presents all relevant information and counterarguments while incorporating both data-based trends and specific case studies. While I would not call this book a page-turner, I do believe that it is an informative and well-researched work that achieves its goals of demonstrating the distinctive characteristics of almshouses and the near impossibility of making any generalized statements about them or their inhabitants.

[1] https://warwick.ac.uk/fac/arts/history/people/honorary/nicholls/

Nicholls, Angela. Almshouses in Early Modern England: Charitable Housing in the Mixed Economy of Welfare, 1550-1725. Woodbridge, UK: The Boydell Press, 2017.

It is a widely accepted principle that shelter is a basic human necessity, and the administrators of almshouses in early modern England attempted to address that need in a way that was fitting for the time. In Almshouses in Early Modern England: Charitable Housing in the Mixed Economy of Welfare, 1550-1725, Angela Nicholls makes the case that the almshouses of this time were highly diverse in their forms and styles of operation, and also served their local communities as vital providers of welfare. She challenges the established historiography by arguing for the high degree of variation in almshouse practices that counters the standard portrayal of the almshouse as “a quaint but largely irrelevant institution, providing care and shelter for a small number of respectable, privileged elderly people” (224).  Nicholls is an Associate Fellow at the University of Warwick, and this book is focused on her particular concentration of research, namely, almshouses and their place in the welfare systems of the early modern period. Here, Nicholls employs archival county records, particularly from Durham, Warwickshire, and Kent, and covers a little less than two centuries to make her arguments about almshouses in early modern England. A good number of primary and secondary sources are utilized in the work as well. She integrates both quantitative and qualitative data throughout the book, including multiple tables and charts as well as numerous examples of the experiences of individuals.

A main theme of Nicholls’ book concerns the difference that existed between the aspiration of housing welfare policy and the real-world actuality of how housing for the poor was tangibly achieved. The legislation of the period reveals a desire for institutional solutions focused on work and discipline in order to address those who were poor for socially acceptable reasons, and also those who were perceived as vagrants and idlers. But the actual administration of housing policy was far less organized or uniform. While legislation enacted parish taxes for poor relief, thereby making local parishes responsible for the poor in their areas, Nicholls shows that even with these taxes, almshouses very often relied on the philanthropy of wealthy benefactors, whose personal whims often dictated how the almshouse was operated. She shows that the founders of almshouses were inspired by an array of diverse motivations, often founding almshouses in order to display their wealth, status, and virtue. These selfish motivations are evident in the fact that founders sometimes named their almshouses after themselves or required almspeople to wear insignia bearing the founder’s initials. But it wasn’t all self-aggrandizement, as many founders were spurred by notions of religious charity or humanist ideas of social responsibility.

Just as there were many differing motivations to found almshouses, their administration and operation was also highly variable, as were the residents whom they accepted. Almshouse residents could be young or old, male or female, they were sometimes able to work, and experienced differing levels of poverty. The high degree of variation in the demographics and circumstances of residents supports Nicholls’ argument of the diversity of almshouses in different locations. The most common requirements for residents were that they had been living in the local parish, not in a faraway place, and that they were ‘deserving’ poor, generally defined as someone having been reduced to poverty through no fault of their own.

Many almshouses were quite small, in that they had room for relatively few people, and Nicholls demonstrates that gaining a place in an almshouse was most likely highly desired by poor people due to the substantial benefits that it brought. There were numerous advantages in being an almshouse resident, the principal one being that placement in an almshouse was for life, with expulsions rarely occurring. Many residents had a room to themselves and their own hearth for warmth and cooking, and some almshouses also provided stipends to residents. While these stipends were often insufficient for survival, necessitating almspeople to work or rely on other forms of charity, their advantage came from the fact that they were guaranteed and regular, providing a certain amount of stability for almshouse residents. In addition to the tangible benefits, there were social benefits to having a place in an almshouse. The general design and functioning of almshouses conferred a degree of individuality and autonomy on the people who lived there. It afforded them the opportunity to live as independently as one could while receiving this kind of charity. Additionally, a place in an almshouse served as a signal of acceptance in the local community. Though poor, almspeople seemed to enjoy social inclusion in their communities; the fact that they depended on charity did not seem to be stigmatized. Despite these points, Nicholls still argues that almshouses differed so widely across localities that “it would be hard to say that there was such a thing as a typical almshouse” (138).

Nicholls concludes the book with a case study of a specific almshouse that effectively supports the arguments she makes throughout the book. She details the specific workings of the almshouse in the parish of Leamington Hastings in Warwickshire to show how this particular almshouse fit in with the surrounding community. The almshouse presents a picture of pragmatic decisions being made to meet the needs of the local poor while maintaining social order and economic stability in the parish. Essentially, decision makers were attempting to do what was best for their community, and Nicholls is attempting to show that what was best would differ across communities, and therefore, there was not a typical way of managing and operating almshouses.

A shortcoming of Almshouses is that it leaves readers in the dark about the broader facts of poverty in early modern England. One is left wondering just how much of a social problem poverty was at this time, and what became of poor people who did not find a place in an almshouse. Nicholls does mention that parishes were engaged in poor relief outside of almshouses, but as almshouses had relatively few spaces, one wonders where other poor people went. Were they funneled into workhouses or prisons? Were they left in wandering homelessness? More background on the wider issue of poverty may have given readers a greater appreciation of the important role that almshouses played in communities. Despite that drawback, Almshouses should appeal to both economic and social historians. Nicholls’ examination of how almshouses fit into the wider issue of welfare will be useful to those historians focused on economics, and her inclusion of many examples of the individual people involved in and affected by the almshouse system, from founders to almspeople, will be of interest to historians concerned with the social aspects of the topic. The case study of the Leamington Hastings almshouse also contains aspects that brush up against perspectives of microhistory and history from below.

Overall, Nicholls’ examination of the administration of almshouses in early modern England reveals a surprisingly benevolent, non-judgmental, and localized system of welfare provision in communities, and demonstrates their diverse and philanthropical provision for the genuinely impotent poor.

Michelle Beer, Queenship of the Renaissance Courts of Britain: Catherine of Aragon and Margaret Tudor, 1503-1533. Woodbridge, UK: The Boydell Press, 2018.

Reviewed by Edward Kirsch

Michelle Beer’s history is focused on the nature, power, and expectations of queenship in early modern Europe and Catherine of Aragon’s and Margaret Tudor’s deliberate, most often astute, performances of this role. Beer shows that these two queens purposefully performed their roles of queenship in nuanced ways that utilized material culture, court life, entertainments, pilgrimages, their piety, patronage, and above all their partnership with their husband kings to influence events and legitimize their respective dynasties and their personal queenships. (22) Beer’s history is not chronological. Rather, she juxtaposes the reigns of Catherine and Margaret around common themes, roughly one per chapter, to reveal similarities and differences. The work departs from most prior histories by studying Catherine’s reign on its own terms rather than as an aside to Henry VIII’s “Great Matter” in which she has been reduced to “the themes of dutiful wife, pious Catholic, and wronged woman.” Similarly, Beer focuses on Margaret’s role as queen rather than her regency for her son James V which is the focus of most histories according to Beer. (19-21)

Beer encountered difficulties in following their lives through archives in which the relevant records are fragmentary and “often subsumed within the records of the king and his court” or have simply not survived. (22) She does a remarkable job of piecing together their achievements, concerns and follies by assembling fragments of evidence from a wide range of sources including the king’s accounts, dispatches of ambassadors, gift records, the National Archives at Kew, Calendar of State Papers relating to Spain and Venice, and other sources.

In the first chapter, Beer argues that Elizabeth of York, Margaret’s mother and Catherine’s mother-in-law, provided a model for queenship, piety, Renaissance magnificence, and an exemplar for how queens should participate in the life of the court. (24-25) In Chapter two, Beer discusses how Catherine and Margaret “used their agency and superior social status compared to the men around them in order to maintain royal dignity and their own authority,” particularly when faced with challenges. (45) Beer’s analysis stands in contrast to that of historians that have disparaged Margaret, for example, as “frivolous” because of her frequent pleading with her brother Henry VIII and Cardinal Wolsey for funds to purchase sumptuous clothing after she fled Scotland in secret in 1515 with few of her possessions. (56) Such criticisms, Beer maintains, reflect a failure to understand that “clothing was self-performance that could carry multiple types of meaning – legitimacy, political relevance, dynastic loyalty” that was essential to the honor of the queen and the king’s honor as well. (69) Henry VIII grasped that “magnificence” was an important “humanist virtue” for renaissance royalty to display and promptly financed her wardrobe.

Beer is a good storyteller. She argues that Catherine cleverly used her own clothing and that of her retinue to subtly express her opposition to the pending Anglo-French alliance at the Field of Cloth of Gold in 1520. (60) Catherine made her views known while remaining loyal to Henry by deliberately wearing, and requiring her retinue to wear, elements of Spanish fashion in dress such as Spanish sleeves, Spanish hairstyles, and Spanish dynastic symbols in addition to English symbols during the jousts, feasts and other public events. (67-68) As noted by Samson, Catherine’s daughter Mary showed similar understanding of the legitimating power and messaging inherent in magnificent clothing by ensuring Phillip II dressed in the English manner during their wedding. (Samson, 110-111)

In chapters three and four, Beer focuses on both queens’ close relationships with their respective kings and their roles as royal hostesses in displays of magnificence, relaxing court pastimes, and diplomatic discussions, and as the prime audience for the court’s chivalrous displays, which taken together supported their informal role in dispensing patronage. (71) Beer emphasizes that in the lavish courtly pageants, tournaments, processions, and tradition of New Year’s gift giving “the queen and her ladies were . . . the center of attention, the axis around which chivalric events revolved” and the dramatic focus of the performance of these active and competitive kings. (81) Their partnership with the king was publicly demonstrated by these events, underscoring their soft power to influence the king’s patronage. Beer underscores that aside from the King, Catherine had her own ability to bestow patronage relating to her dower estates, as well as arrange elite marriages. (103) A queen’s hospitality was recognized as an important “humanist virtue” by Castiglione in The Book of the Courtier (1528). In their outer chambers, diplomatic dialogue was exchanged along with witty conversation during informal past times such as musical performances, card playing, chess, and dancing. (88) Performing their roles as distinguished, honorable hostesses solidified their relationships with the center of power for the elite to witness. (96)

In Chapter five, Beer analyzes how Catherine and Margaret used public performances of piety including almsgiving, pilgrimages, processions to mass, and the ritual of Royal Maundy, to fulfill queenly duties before God, connect with elites and the common people, and set a moral example for their people. Beer notes that prior historians have largely ignored how their “piety informed their queenship.” (124) Beer describes the Royal Maundy ritual on Holy Thursday as the most important annual almsgiving event and a powerful ritual that bathed queens in “sacerdotal power.” In addition to a public mass and almsgiving, the ritual included the queen and king performing the pedilavium in which the king washed the feet of poor men and the queen washed the feet of poor women. This powerful ritual invoked images of Christ washing the feet of the apostles during the Last Supper. (134) Beer notes that Mary I practiced the Royal Maundy and Elizabeth I used this ritual as “part of a deliberate strategy” to legitimate female rule by claiming “sacred status for the monarchy.” (135) Rituals such as Royal Maundy and Queen Catherine’s joint coronation in which she was “anointed with holy oil,” as well as the commonplace association of queens with the Virgin Mary, gave these astute pious queens an aura of “quasi-sacerdotal status.” (126)

Beer’s analysis of “receiver’s accounts” indicates Catherine gave a minimum of “between £160 and £190 a year from 1525 to 1530” in alms, while Margaret’s cannot be established. (130) This pious giving had the intended effect. Even John Foxe had to admit Catherine was popular. Henry VII and Anne Boleyn understood that Catherine’s displays of public piety were a source of her moral authority. Beer observes, for example, that in 1534 Henry precluded Catherine “from holding her Maundy while she was under house arrest.” (136) Further, Anne Boleyn tried to stop Catherine’s almsgiving because she understood “’the alms she has been accustomed to give have attracted the love of the people.’” Both Catherine and Margaret made public pilgrimages to shrines, particularly those associated with child birth, which provided interaction with the public along their leisurely route and served their political and spiritual purposes. (143)

In sum, Beer’s work is well researched, a great read, and accessible to a general audience. Yet it is also an excellent monograph for both professional historians researching the expectations, challenges, and strategies exercised by these astute queens in performing their role of queenship.

Miranda Kaufmann’s Black Tudors: The Untold Story was a wonderfully written exploration of the lives of people of color during the Tudor reign of England. By using a variety of primary government and church sources, and secondary sources from other leading scholars on the topic, Kaufmann was able to paint a picture of what it was like to be Black living in Early Modern England. With this picture displayed for readers, she urges them to question what they think they know about Black people during history. Miranda Kauffman has an extensive history on the topic of Black people in England throughout time. This book, which won two awards and is now being used to inform a new TV drama on the topic is probably one of her most successful works. She currently works at the University of London where she is a research fellow with the Institute of Commonwealth Studies. Kauffman has a slightly different career path than most historians because she also considers herself a journalist. She writes for popular news outlets about the topic of Black people in Early Modern England and often speaks at conventions, festivals, and schools on the topic. She seems very interested in making this topic available to people other than academics, which is reflected in this book that reads very easily. Some might argue that her “pop-history” interests may take away from her credibility as a historian writing on this topic, I would argue that she has plenty of experience and research under her belt that gives her credibility for the book. Overall, this book allows the topic and historical methods of uncovering Black people in Early Modern England accessible to people of all backgrounds. 

The layout of this book highlights a different “Black Tudor” per chapter. While her research uncovered almost 300 Black Tudors within England at this time, she only chose to focus her book on 10 different people. However, the stories of the 200 some others are not lost within this book. Within each chapter, she provides great historical context for each person’s life, while also tying in the stories of other Black people who were known to have lived in England at the time. The first chapter starts by talking about the life of John Blanke The Trumpeter. John Blanke was a Trumpeter for Henry VIII who is visible in a giant piece of art depicting him playing music for a jousting tournament of Henry VII. Kauffman goes into great detail about the various other Africans that might have been present in similar ways in the royal courts of this time. Additionally, Kauffman goes on to prove that John Blanke likely had a lot of freedom and independence as a man employed by King Henry VII. Next, chapter two tells the story of a skilled diver from Africa, Jaques Francis. Francis was hired by the royal court to help recover remains from the shipwreck of the Mary Rose. Kauffman poses the question, Why were Africans so good at diving? Did his skill of diving impact how he was viewed in England? How was his evidence taken in Royal Court as a Black man? He was indeed ridiculed in court, not because of his race, but because the evidence he found went against the economic goals of the people testifying against his master. The third chapter is about Diego the Circumnavigator. He was an African enslaved by the Spanish in a village called Nombre de Dios in Panama. He eventually abandoned his master to join the voyage of Sir Francis Drake around the world. 

The stories continue with Edward Swarythe the Porter who became the first man ever to publicly whip a white man. This story helps readers to reassess what they might know about how Black people were treated in Tudor England at the time. Chapter five talks about Reasonable Blackman, a silk weaver living on the outskirts of London. His story proves that like himself and his family, there could have been many other Black people living in England financially independent and making a life for themselves. Chapter six talks about Mary Fillis, a Morrocan who worked for a seamstress and eventually was converted to the protestant church. This shows that people of all backgrounds were accepted and welcomed into the Church of England at the time. Chapter seven talks about Dederi Jaquoah, the prince of a kingdom in west Africa. His story is significant because he spent a good amount of his life in England learning English and creating good relationships for trading success. In Chapter eight John Anthony’s story was significant because he was hired as a sailor during the same time period when the English started bringing slaves to Virginia. It is incredible how the lives of Africans differed from the colonies to mainland England. The last two chapters detail the lives of Anne Cobbie a prostitute and Catellena a modest countrywoman. Both accounts show the ability of women of color to lead independent lives for themselves in Early Modern England. 

Kauffman did an amazing job writing this book, and she blends the historical academic world with the pop-history world. One of the biggest strengths of this book is the organization. She organized the book by the stories of individual people and their lives in Early Modern England. By organizing the book in this way she humanizes history. Oftentimes, academic history writing gets bogged down by facts, themes, sources, and rants. However, she attracts readers to this book by giving them sneak peeks into the lives of 10 different people of color living in Early Modern England. By doing this, she draws the readers in making them more hooked on the actual history that was happening at this time. Additionally, I think she used her sources exceptionally. For example, she mostly uses primary sources from the government, church, diary, letters, and trading documents. The fact that she is able to create such a colorful and vivid picture of these people’s lives from these dry documents is incredible. Although we cannot be sure that the conclusions she draws from these documents are 100% accurate, there is enough backup from both primary and secondary sources that give readers enough evidence to believe what she is saying. 

As far as weaknesses, there were not many I could pick out. The only aspect of this book that may be considered a weakness is the fact that she often gets off track in the middle of the chapters. She will begin a chapter explaining the situation of the person that she is focusing on, and then in a few pages be “zoomed out” and explain the greater historical context of the situation. This can be good, however, I think she took it too far sometimes, and never really tied her chapters back together. This could have made it difficult for more non-academic readers to understand the purpose of this book. Overall, this was a great book that achieved its purpose of proving to the world that not all Black people during this time were enslaved. This book has the potential to reach both academic and popular audiences, which is good because this topic deserves to be talked about and explored further.

Alexander Samson, Mary and Phillip: The Marriage of Tudor England and Habsburg Spain. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2020. 279 pp. $39 paperback ISBN 9781526160249.

Reviewed by Edward Kirsch

Alexander Samson’s Mary and Phillip falls within a revisionist trend that emerged over the past several decades that reassesses the traditional narrative of Mary I’s brief reign which the author argues was unjustifiably and unfavorably colored by the anti-Catholic, anti-papal, religious and political propaganda of her own age, authored and promoted by radical Protestant exiles, that resulted in the epitaph “Bloody” Mary, which was not applied until 1658. (9) Samson argues these negative anti-Catholic narratives were used, alongside the “Black Legend” of Spain, to rationalize the British Empire’s displacement of Spanish colonial power and frame the Reformation as a national liberation movement well into the twentieth century. (1, 3) Samson argues convincingly against the commonplace that Mary was an unstable, dour, “tragic”, “desolate” figure in a failed marriage who was ineffective as a ruler and whose brief reign was a regrettable “’barren interruption’” in Britain’s destiny to lead the Protestant world. (4, quoting Harbison (1970), 6) These images persist in popular culture today and the author argues they are unsupported.

The book is not a comprehensive biography of Mary; rather, it addresses these negative historical interpretations and tropes by “foregrounding” alternative narratives that cast Mary in a positive light. In the first Chapter, “Prenuptial,” Samson demonstrates that Mary was shrewd and prepared to take power and was far from the “rather stupid” political neophyte described by Geoffrey Elton. (5) Rather, she cultivated local alliances such that within hours of confirming Edward VI’s death, she was sending circular letters to mobilize the nobles and gentry in the areas where she had large landholdings demanding she be proclaimed queen. She quickly mobilized supporting forces among Catholic sympathizers, but also among many Protestants and urban elites which resulted in the Privy Council backing her and Northumberland’s arrest and execution. (28-29, 33) Samson argues far from being imposed on a reluctant populace, “the return of traditional [Catholic] religion was joyfully celebrated” with the ringing of bells, processions of the rosary and images of the Virgin in London. (34)

The second chapter, “Contracting Matrimony,” focuses on the strategic considerations underlying the marriage contract, also an international treaty, by which Mary and Phillip were married, and the Hapsburg Empire and England allied. Samson deftly uses contemporaneous Spanish and English sources to reveal the parties’ strategic goals and counter long-standing arguments that the marriage undermined English sovereignty due to the anomaly of a female ruler, and that Phillip was reluctant to marry. He notes the terms of the treaty, negotiated by Mary and Stephen Gardiner for the English, included measures to “safeguard English sovereignty” beginning with the recitation that Phillip would be an English “’subject,’” and therefore incongruently “subordinate to his wife as queen,” notwithstanding the social and legal inequality of husband and wife in the period. (67-68) The treaty also sought to preclude Phillip from developing an independent power base in England by precluding him from “independent powers of patronage with English royal lands, income, or appointments,” and from “’innovation’” in the laws and customs of England. (68, 72) The treaty also contemplated Phillip merely “’adyd[ing]’” the queen in “’administration.’” and precluded him from interfering in the succession upon Mary’s death, a provision he subsequently honored. (68, 73)

Throughout the work, Samson adroitly weaves together contemporaneous narratives by Spanish and English sources to buttress his arguments. (34) The author is a “Reader” in Early Modern Studies at University College London who has conducted significant research in the early colonial history of the Americas, the reign of Mary I, and Anglo-Spanish intercultural interactions. He teaches courses in Spanish drama and history and is fluent in Spanish. Thus, his work foregrounds Spanish original sources that have often been overlooked by other historians.

In the third chapter, Samson analyzes contemporaneous representations of Wyatt’s revolt by the conspirators as an anti-Spanish, patriotic revolt to prevent Spanish domination, and the Marion reply that the conspirators were motivated primarily by religion. Samson concedes historians are divided on the conspirator’s motives, notwithstanding Protestant propaganda claiming a nationalist motivation, and concludes that whether motived by hatred of Spain or Catholicism, such sentiments were not widely held as evidenced by the limited support for the revolt. (90-91) Returning to this theme in chapter 7, Samson argues that England was not “inexorably xenophobic” which is an assertion employed by historians of an earlier generation to assert Phillip II was unacceptable to the English people, resulting in the failure of the co-monarchy. (137) Samson argues convincingly that the acerbic “propaganda of evangelical Marian exiles” circulated principally among literate elites and did not result in widespread “Hispanophobia” until the era of the Spanish Armada. (222)

Samson’s view is consistent with Immigrant England which concludes England was not xenophobic during the period. Omrod demonstrates that violence against aliens was rare and most often led by London merchants resentful of competition from foreigners – a conclusion shared with Samson. (Omrod, 117) Both authors view the cause of events such as the 1517 Evil May Day riots as rooted in economic rivalry and conclude the presence of Spaniards in England was small and did not engender hatred. (140, 143, 257) These conclusions are significant because purported English xenophobia and hostility to Spain underlie traditional arguments that the marriage was foisted upon a reluctant English people, inevitably resulting in the failure of the marriage, co-monarchy, and alliance, which Samson disputes. (137-39)

In chapters 4 and 5, Samson explores the co-monarchy’s messaging and how the wedding ceremony, and the couple’s entry into London were staged to placate the English populace by reinforcing the Queen’s precedence, memorialized in both the marriage treaty and an Act of Parliament. Mary’s primacy was underscored by the couple’s choice of dress, and positioning in relation to each other. (116) During the wedding and entry, Mary occupied the position on the right associated with the dominant male, while Phillip was to her the left in the traditional position of a Queen consort. (110-11) Further, Phillip was dressed in English style, and with the Order of the Garter given him by Mary. Samson asserts the monarchs were aware of the gender inversion embodied in these symbols and hoped the symbols would buttress Phillip’s acceptance in England and assuage fears of a loss of sovereignty. (111) Samson argues Phillip, far from being loathed, was greeted with enthusiasm upon his entry into London with the foreign merchant community assuming a large role in funding and planning the welcoming pageants in anticipation of enhanced trade. The Hanse merchants, for example, financed a triumphal arch that emphasized the alliance secured by the marriage treaty which promised closer ties between London and its most important trading partner – the low countries. (129)

Samson argues convincingly that despite gender expectations, Mary was an able and engaged monarch “perfectly capable of following her own counsel and refusing to do [Phillip’s] bidding” by, for example, declining to enter the war with France for two years until the Stafford Raid. (175) He shows Mary was deeply involved in establishing a more humanist English Catholic restoration that “absorbed” positive aspects of reform including a focus on clerical education, evangelism, theological reform, and spirituality, while downplaying the miracles, saints, relics, and shrines of the pre-Henrician Catholic church. (185) In sum, far from a failure, Samson’s Mary set a precedent for ably exercising both queenly and kingly power and established an “iconography of female power to legitimate” female rule, both of which benefited her half-sister, Elizabeth upon her accession. (7, 186-88)

In Mary and Philip: The Marriage of Tudor England and Hapsburg Spain by Alexander Samson tries to explain a lot about the relationship between Mary and Prince Philip of Spain, how the commoners felt about having a foreign ruler, how the English adapted to having a queen for the first time, and how England handled the growing divide between Catholics and Protestants This book contributes to the existing historiography that we’re studying in this class by showing the divide that exists amongst historians on the marriage. Samson’s studies and focus are not on Early Modern England which would usually lead me to take what they say with a grain of salt, but I believe that Samson provides strong analysis of the relationship of the two monarchs and how it affected those around them. 

In modern interpretations of Mary I, we how historians have depicted her. In Lady Jane (1985) A reviewer called Mary ‘Edward’s half-wit sister’ which is based on Geoffrey Elton’s of the first Tudor queen statement that she was stupid. Another depiction was Kathy Burke who played Mary opposite Cate Blanchett’s Elizabeth, Mary was portrayed here as hysterical and neurotic as she moved around the dark world with her consort who was brooding and wanted nothing to do with her, this is based off the claims by Sir Francis Hastings in 1598 who said that the marriage “could not drawe the least sparke of true loue from him to his noble Queene, who so louingly made choice of him to be her husband.” and this was because Philip was unenthusiastic about their marriage.1 These are just two examples of Mary I and her husband Philip that have been played on the big screen and the performance is based off a historical source that described the character like that. The official view of Britian’s past is built around the Reformation, that the Tudors ‘rode on the back of anti-clericalism’ and turning their back on the church for encroaching on the liberties of the English Church and that the concept of the Reformation as a national liberation which restored England’s independence which would lead to England and its establishment of colonies, which would exist if not for Mary who helped Elizabeth by paving the way. 

What I gathered from the book was that the English and the Spanish were close, the two countries were tied together not only economically but also socially. There was a series of treaties between the two countries that went as far back as 1252 which was an agreement between Henry III and Castile that preceded the marriage between Edward I and Eleanor of Castile. Merchants from both countries traveled and traded in the other, showing how close the two powers were to each other. The relationship between the two started to become frayed when Henry VIII married Boleyn but a treaty in June 1542 that halted the deterioration of relations between the two countries, the Spanish responded to the despoliation of the San Salvador by Robert Reneger in 1545 by seizing English merchants’ goods in Andalusia which violated the terms of Medina Del Campo. The treaty of the Low Countries would serve as a template for the later marital agreement under Mary and Philip.  

With the death of Henry VIII, England’s new monarch was Henry’s only son Edward, but his reign only lasted until 1553 when he died of TB. After Edward, England gained its first female monarch in Mary. England had never had a female ruler, so there was anxiety surrounding her rule. The Spainards though were familiar with having a female monarch so the treaty between England and Spain surrounding foreign succession handled the gender transition. With Mary’s succession to the throne and her marriage to Philip I of Spain, the Catholic Church returned to England and those that had fled European countries to escape Catholicism under Mary’s father Henry VIII were now homeless once again, they were immediately associated with heresy and sedition under Mary. The emperor wrote in a letter that “[it] is clear that the foreign refugees with oppose her as much as any other class of people, in their fear of a change of religion.”2 At the end of the paragraph, it is noted that relations between Protestants and Catholics were not as divided as they would become later in the century.  

The marriage between Mary and Philip was met with skepticism by the English people, they did not like foreigners are they believed that they [the foreigners] only cared about themselves and not the country that they were in. Antoine Perrenot de Granvelle, bishop of Arras admitted to the Cardinal of Jaen that “the English may come with the greatest difficulty to consent to the marriage and so much more as they naturally detest foreigners.”3 The people of England did not want a foreign ruler, and that sentiment and belief led to Wyatt’s revolt where the people revolted against a Spanish ruler. Another factor that played into the English people’s distrust was that the Philip and his court did not speak English and that there would be confusion. 

Something that I like about this book is that the author tells you the truth and the sources they have at their disposal, a great example of this is in the Wyatt revolt chapter where it is stated that the verdict of historians on the cause of Wyatt’s revolt is divided. For example, David Loades argues that the reason is political and that the main concern of the English was Spanish domination. Others point to the fact that the areas where it achieved its greatest success were areas that the Reformation had its greatest effect. While the Tonbridge schoolmaster John Proctor compared the revolt to the religious wars that had desolated Germany.  

Samson went on in the later chapters by showing us the power dynamic of the relationship between Mary and Philip. What surprised me about their relationship and challenged what I knew prior to reading this book was that when they got married, both were outfits that were similar in style and Mary sat on the right of Philip which is usually reserved for the King. Prior to this book, my thought was that Philip was just using Mary for England and that he went out of his way to show people that England now belonged to Spain. Samson also in chapter seven tackled what I believe was one of the central points of the book, people in England did not believe that Mary could be a successful monarch, that she would lead England to ruin. 

Like every book that we read, there are strengths and weaknesses that we identify as we read. A strength that I noticed as I was reading was that Samson always had an example and backed up a point that he made, he never left me confused because he had a source for all the points that he was arguing in his book. A weakness that I identified almost immediately was that Samson lacked a strong opening/introduction. Instead of giving us a small summary or introduction to what he would be arguing in his book, he jumped straight to the point and left the reader in the dust. Also, there were points in the chapters that Samson lost the point, he was providing us with so much information and evidence that he could not bring it all together in the end. I believe that if Alexander Samson had given us a better introduction and wrapped all the evidence that he provided us with in the chapters and related it to his thesis/main point, that this book would be more coherent and readable.  

Reviewed By Vincent Cervone, George Mason Graduate Student.