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The following review is by James Carley, Distinguished Professor University of Toronto and Member of the Committee for the
British Academy John Foxe Project.
Greg Walker, WRITING UNDER TYRANNY, Oxford University Press, 2005
Two major studies of the reign of Henry VIII have appeared in the past year. Focusing on the 1530s, they argue (in contrast
to prevailing scholarly orthodoxies) that the king was firmly in control of his policies, that he shaped rather than was shaped
by events. Although they employ different methodologies both conclude that Henry, who began his reign as the model of a Renaissance
prince -learned, beneficent, open to counsel--ended as a tyrant of the worst sort. George W. Bernard's THE KING'S REFORMATION:
HENRY VIII AND THE REMAKING OF THE ENGLISH CHURCH (New Haven & London, 2005), approaches the question from a historical
perspective, making comprehensive use of archival evidence, and Greg Walker's WRITING UNDER TYRANNY gives a close reading
of a number of literary texts, showing how their authors moved from the speculum principis model to a literature of despair.
Walker's are, as he states, 'case studies', and his conclusion is a sweeping one: he believes that in their attempt to combat
the 'illness'of Henry's drift towards tyranny, these writers 'changed the face of English literature forever'. Like many
recent scholars he thus locates the first flowering of the English Renaissance in Henry's rather than Elizabeth's reign.
Walker divides his book into three sections organized chronologically: read together these provide a collective biography
on how to live and write 'under tyranny'. His basic premise is that telling stories 'or editing past writers such as Geoffrey
Chaucer'provides a means for commenting on and attempting to alleviate contemporary problems. In this case literary works
must be interpreted within their historical context and the job of the critic is to tease out the deeper meanings; he is the
exegete in the medieval sense. This approach, when it works, can be very illuminating, which Walker usually is (and the texts
he chooses are for the most part political by nature), but sometimes one does suspect that there are situations in which 'a
rose is a rose is a rose' rather than a hidden code for something else.
The first part of WRITING UNDER TYRANNY concerns three household servants, William Thynne, Brian Tuke and John Heywood,
who used the speculum principis tradition to combat their growing concerns over the inevitable repercussions of the King's
Great Matter. Through their literary output these men tried to steer Henry and his counsellors in the direction of moderation,
of social and religious accommodation, rather than high-handed and self-serving policies. Unlike most scholars from the time
of John Foxe onwards, Walker does not believe that the 1532 edition of Chaucer was a reformist endeavour. Rather, he is convinced
that the 'Works' was a response to the Lollardizing of Chaucer, and this is how the introductory poems inter alia should be
read. Likewise Henry was meant to identify with 'imperial'Theseus and like Theseus show himself firm but tolerant, able to
bring stability out of struggle and disorder. Although WilliamThynne may have been the acknowledged editor, Brian Tuke was
also actively involved. Because of 'sensitive nature of his employment in the divorce negotiations'he wished, however, to
keep a low profile, and he therefore acknowledged his authorship of the preface only in a handwritten note in his private
copy rather than proclaiming it in the printed edition.
The interludes of John Heywood - who audaciously praised Mary in 1534 after her bastardization in 'Give Place Ye Ladies'
- also argued for accommodation, 'The Play of the Weather'(1533) implicitly requesting that the church be left to reform itself.
In his treatment of Jupiter Heywood took licence through 'merry criticism' to touch upon issues close to the king, confident
that Henry would listen and not be offended. It was, in Walker's opinion, the last moment at which a writer could get away
with 'risking Jove's thunderbolts in order to offer him the good advice that all princes needed'.
The long middle section of WRITING UNDER TYRANNY is devoted to Sir Thomas Elyot, who reacted to lack of promotion and
dissatisfaction with the evolving religious policies of the regime through extensive writings: in these he attempted to counsel
the king 'on his personal conduct and the public policy of the realm'. Walker shows how one work inevitably led to the next
as the situation (at least from the perspective of moderate conservatives like Elyot) deteriorated. The Book Named the Governor
(1531), written as 'Henry's Great Matter' was beginning to take on ramifications well beyond the dissolution of his first
marriage, examines the role of the good counsellor in the education of the prince. By Elyot's interpretation the problem with
Henry's determination to marry Anne Boleyn was that it placed private desires above the public good. Pasquil the Plain (1533),
on the other hand, was directed against Thomas Cranmer and other time serving evangelicals. By the time Elyot came to write
the Image of Governance (1541 [1540]) his irony had become more bitter and his solutions more drastic: he now believed that
Henry could not be reformed through eloquence and he argued for a omnicompetent council with coercive force.
Like Elyot Sir Thomas Wyatt was ultimately a political writer, but his poetry was much more inwardly directed than Elyot's
prose; it is reflective rather than overtly didactic. As in the case of Elyot, many of Wyatt's writings were translations
and Walker is particularly adept at examining the subtle modifications of the originals and showing how these reflect the
concerns of the translator. 'Mine Owen John Poyntz' is a powerful example of how the satire was directed through the 'rootedness
of the narratorial' (I). Although not printed during Wyatt's lifetime the Paraphrase of the Penitential Psalms is both a meditative
exercise and an 'anatomization of the royal condition'. Henry can be identified with the 'naughty' King besotted by Bathsheba
and the murderer of Uriah whereas Wyatt himself adopts the voice of the prayerful psalmist. We thus have a powerful conjunction:
'The consoling fantasy of imagining the King repenting of his lusts and despotism, and adopting instead a life of repentance
and atonement merges in the text with an exploration of Wyatt's own sense of himself as a sinful, fallen human being, giving
the Paraphrase its unique potency as both politically and psychologically radical writing'. Doctrinally, Wyatt adopted a middle
way closely related to that promulgated in The Institution of A Christian Man (1537); he did not in any sense find himself
at odds with the regime over matters of faith but rather of politics and morality.
WRITING UNDER TYRANNY concludes with a discussion of the relationship between Wyatt and Henry Howard, earl of Surrey,
an examination of Surrey's poetic oeuvre and specifically an analysis of Surrey's paraphrase of the psalms. In this section
Walker is, as he acknowledges, much indebted to W. A. Sessions's Henry Howard, THE POET EARL OF SURREY: A LIFE. Surrey no
doubt undertook his translation of the psalms during his final imprisonment and through it defied the king to redeem himself.
The picture which emerges is of a self-indulgent, drunken and gluttonous tyrant, driven by pride and worldly ambition. (Less
than a decade earlier Henry Parker, Lord Morley had written 'who is more temperat in all thinges, in eting, in drinkyng and
in other voluptyose plesurs then oure Henry'). Like Wyatt Surrey looks both inwardly to his own soul and outwardly to the
sins of Henry and his counsellors. His own experience brings to the text a painful sense of particularity and venom. As Walker
observes, 'Quite literally, he was writing for his life', and what he produced was a literature of resistance.
Walker is a close reader and knows his material intimately. He provides new insights into well known works, showing us
how they can be read 'politically' in ways which are not immediately apparent and he also reveals unexpected meanings in less
familiar passages. Most importantly, he charts an evolution from text to text, establishing how a chronological reading is
essential. On the other hand, he is often long-winded and WRITING UNDER TYRANNY would have profited from a firm editorial
hand: his arguments would have been even more convincing if he moved more quickly from point to point. Since so much depends
on the precise date of publication of key texts, it seems a pity, moreover, that there is no bibliography to provide this
and other information: as Writing Under Tyranny now stands we are not even given STC references. There are also inaccuracies
in detail, some of which effect Walker's interpretations. For example, as he has observed, Elyot dedicated A Sweet and Devout
Sermon of Holy Saint Ciprian 'To my right worshipful sister dame Susan Kingston'and their two 'sisters religious' Dorothy
and Elinor Fettiplace, all three of whom were probably (my emphasis) sisters of the Bridgettine House of Syon in Isleworth
at this time'. For Walker, this dedication to his sister establishes Elyot's deep 'personal investment'in the text. The
situation is slightly more complex than Walker describes it. Susan Kingston was Elyot's stepsister rather than sister; she
was the eldest daughter of Richard Fettiplace and Elizabeth Bessels, who later married Elyot's father. Dorothy and Eleanor
were also daughters of Richard and Elizabeth and thus full sisters of Susan; Dorothy [Godrington] was a widow when she joined
the order. All three were equally related to Elyot (by marriage), but only two were 'sisters religious' of Syon; Susan was
a vowess and would thus be the means of 'communicating' the text to the two enclosed sisters.
Through lack of bibliographical sophistication Walker sometimes gets things wrong and this can be crucial in terms of
arguments based on dating. Walker maintains, for example, that there must have been an now lost edition issued in 1534 of
The Bankette of Sapience and that comments in the narrative can be seen as politically charged in the light of the repressive
measures that had been enacted to bring about the Boleyn marriage and the Supremacy. His evidence is based on the title page
of the 1542 edition (although the same title page is found in the 1539 edition of which he states mistakenly no exemplars
survive), which has the date 1534 in the border. In fact, had he consulted R. B. McKerrow & F. S. Ferguson, TITLE-PAGE
BORDERS USED IN ENGLAND AND SCOTLAND 1485-1640 (London, 1932), no. 30, he would have seen that this same block (with 1534
in the sill) was used in books published up to 1569. The date, in other words, provides no evidence for an earlier edition.
Walker is entirely convincing in his description of the intentionality of his writers and in his view that each of them
was at least implicitly addressing the king. He also maintains that the king in turn read the texts, and he provides a lively
evocation of New Year's Day 1534 when Elyot, as he describes it, may have presented the king with an unattested manuscript
copy of his translation from Isocrates, The Doctrinal of Princes (London, n.d.): 'the text's opening remarks concerning those
presents sent to kings in the hope of reciprocal rewards...could be recycled as a witty commentary on the foodstuffs, plate
and jewellry that poured into the royal household during the traditional Tudor gift giving ceremony. Indeed, a remark of
the sort was very likely to catch the jaded eye of the King as he doled out the annual largesse to the courtiers, gentlemen,
and other hangers-on who queued to present themselves in the royal presence each New Year's Day. The reality was alas more
mundane - gifts were received by the king, indeed, but they were immediately handed over to the appropriate secretary who
entered them in a list. Rarely did Henry himself see them again and on those occasions it was usually because an intermediary
brought them back to his attention. There is therefore no evidence that a manuscript copy of The Doctrinal of Princes was
given to the king in January 1534, let alone read by him (and in any case it would have appeared in the full New Year's Gift
Roll that survives for that year.) Nor is it likely that the king would have worked his way through 'The Knight's Tale'and
identified himself with Theseus. Two surviving books by Elyot - the Dictionary and the Image of Governance - were stored
in the royal library at Westminster, but the former was sequestered from Cromwell, and the latter- even if lavishly bound
by the Greenwich binder- has no annotations by Henry or other indications that he examined it. Ultimately, Walker's arguments
about why the books were written and what they were meant to achieve do not depend on whether or not the king consulted them,
but somehow one does wish that Walker had managed to find at least some concrete evidence that the king actually engaged with
these texts and the ideas they put forth, that Henry's self was at least slightly fashioned by them.
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Peter Marshall reviews
Eamon Duffy and David Loades, eds., The Church of Mary Tudor. Aldershot: Ashgate Press. 2006. Pp. xxxii + 335. ISBN 0
7546 3070 6.
With the possible exceptions of Richard III and John, Mary Tudor has had probably the worst press of any English sovereign.
Her governance has traditionally seemed politically inept (unpopular Spanish marriage, disastrous war with France), and, in
religious terms, at best misguided and ineffective, at worst murderously cruel. The historical roots of this interpretation
lie, of course, in the sixteenth century itself, particularly in John Foxe's spectacularly successful arraignment of the Marian
persecution in his Acts and Monuments/Book of Martyrs. The view of Mary's reign, and of her attempted restoration of Catholicism
as an aberration, an unfortunate 'interlude', persisted well into the twentieth century - a case study in the 'Whig view of
history', which associated nation, liberalism and modernity with the inevitable triumph of Protestantism in the sixteenth
century. Nowadays, of course, to be called 'whiggish'is almost the worst insult one historian can throw at another, and Mary's
reign and religious policy have long looked ripe for reassessment. Yet despite the revisionist wave in English Reformation
studies which has been sweeping almost all before it since the later 1970s, close focus on the full range of religious expression
under Mary has remained surprisingly elusive. In 1992, Eamon Duffy, co-editor of this collection and author of the acclaimed
Stripping of the Altars, complained that 'a convincing account of the religious history of Mary's reign has yet to be written'.
He and his fellow editor David Loades make no claim that their volume entirely supplies the lack, yet there is no doubt that
it represents a very significant step towards a more rounded historical understanding.
Mary failed in almost all her objectives, representing, in historical terms, the ultimate 'loser'. Yet as the editors
in their introduction astutely note, there is a tendency among historians to judge the Queen's policies as if she and her
servants should have known that they only had five years in which to implement them. There is an alternative temptation: to
construct counter-factual fantasies of long-term success and achievement - what if Mary had not died so relatively young,
what if she and Philip had produced a Catholic heir? Wisely, the contributors to this volume resist the temptation to go too
far down this road, instead concentrating on the processes by which policies were formulated, implemented and received. Unsurprisingly,
the overall assessment of religious policy-making is a much more positive one that the traditional interpretation of the topic
has sustained. But the result is no tightly marshalled revisionist manifesto, the historiographical equivalent of a New Labour
conference. There is room for nuance, and some disagreement on substantial issues. This should not occasion surprise, as the
editorial pairing imaginatively brings together, in Duffy, the leading revisionist historian of the English Reformation, and
in Loades, the leading political historian of Mary's reign, who has generally been cautious about ascribing undue praise to
the achievements or potential of the Catholic Restoration. Although the volume appears in a series devoted to 'Catholic Christendom',
the unhappy experiences of Marian Protestants are not entirely neglected. In a characteristically incisive concluding essay,
Patrick Collinson re-examines the persecution in Kent (where 61 martyrs were burned), and finds that John Foxe went to considerable
lengths to try to conceal that some of them may have held unorthodox anti-Trinitarian views.
The rest of the volume, however, concerns itself firmly with Marian Catholics, prefixed by a thought-provoking introductory
essay by Loades on the religious outlook of the Queen herself. This finds the key to apparently contradictory impulses and
behaviour in the intensity of her devotion to the theology and practice of the Latin mass. The subsequent essays are divided
into three sections, focusing on 'The Process;'(i.e. the instruments and institutions of re-Catholicisation); on Cardinal
Pole and his circle; and on Marian religious culture more broadly. In a second contribution, Loades provides a survey of the
Marian episcopate, which, while less effusive than some other recent assessments, nonetheless identifies the real progress
that had been made in restructuring the body by the second half of the reign. Claire Cross's examination of policy towards
the universities finds a similar pattern of successful institutional reform, which can be measured in the extent of deprivations
required after 1558, and a flight to the continent of Catholic scholars which outweighed the equivalent Protestant migration
after 1553. Another flagship institution of Marian Catholicism - the restored Benedictine community at Westminster - is reconstructed
with skill and patience (and with a useful biographical appendix) in Charles Knighton's essay. Ralph Houlbrooke provides a
provincial case-study of Catholic restoration, and has a fascinating story to tell to counter-balance the conventional emphasis
on heroic Protestant martyrdom. In Norwich, the Edwardian clerical leadership effectively collapsed, and the leading evangelical
preacher John Barret became an active collaborator with the new regime. Interestingly, Houlbrooke speculates that the relative
absence of persecutions in Norwich might reflect a Protestant laity demoralised by these capitulations.
The 'Pole' essays are similarly close-focused and forensic. Thomas Mayer analyses Pole's legatine register to document
the impressive number of appeals coming forward from clergy and laity alike, and comes to the 'heretical' conclusion that
Pole's final legation must be considered a success. Eamon Duffy re-opens the question of Pole's attitude to preaching, and
finds much of the traditional case for the Cardinal's supposed mistrust of it to rest on a mistranslation of a letter to the
Spanish Dominican Carranza. Through a close examination of Pole's sermon preached in London on St Andrew's Day 1557, Duffy
finds a figure far removed from the stereotype of the remote and unworldly Cardinal Legate, but rather a man with his finger
firmly on the pulse of local and civic concerns, and rhetorically skilful in his appeal to his audience. If Duffy succeeds
in setting the record straight, John Edwards effectively rewrites it. In a ground-breaking essay, Edwards demonstrates that
far from being marginal to religious developments in England, the Spanish churchmen who accompanied Philip (Bartolomé Carranza
foremost among them) played significant roles in the universities, in the restoration of liturgy and ceremonial, and in the
prosecution of heresy.
The suggestion that the Marian Church was part of the mainstream of sixteenth-century Catholic reform is taken up in the
final section of the book, in William Wizeman's thorough analysis of themes in the sermons of Bishop Thomas Watson. Wizeman
finds Watson citing decrees of Trent in advance of their official promulgation, and advocating practices (such as the need
for frequent communion) which were entirely characteristic of Counter-Reformation spirituality. Yet, paradoxically or not,
Watson was also a traditionally-minded Catholic humanist, who took many of this theological bearings from Bishop John Fisher.
This sense of a dynamic Catholic tradition is still more evident in Lucy Wooding's elegant consideration of the meanings of
the mass in the Marian restoration. Wooding finds the mass to be a distinctly multivalent property: increasingly demarcator
of a self-consciously confessional Roman Catholic identity, but at the same time a symbol of continuity with the policies
of Henry VIII, and a focus of popular devotion independent of any necessary concern about the papacy. 'The people' are a rather
attenuated presence through much of this volume, but one representative is placed centre-stage in Gary Gibbs's lively re-reading
of the manuscript of the London citizen Henry Machyn. Mislabelled a 'diary' by its Victorian editor, Gibbs persuasively places
the text in the civic chronicle tradition, and suggests that its concern with the recording of religious processions provides
evidence for the success of the Marian regime's use of ritual and spectacle.
Taken together, these essays represent a welcome and much-needed rephrasing of the questions historians should be asking
about the English Church and religion in the 1550s, ones less concerned with tautological identification of 'problems' to
account for Marian 'failure', but which, in the editors' own words, attempt 'to locate the events of 1553-58 in the cultural
context to which they belong'.Amen to that. Future researchers will be encouraged rather than deterred by the sign posts pegged
out here.
Peter Marshall
University of Warwick
Xxiii - Foxe and his critics both right- 'A Church which had a broadly popular programme of worship and practice, and
which was committed to education and evangelization, nevertheless carried out one of the most sustained persecutions seen
anywhere in Europe'.
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Matthew Jenkinson Merton College, Oxford reviews:
Mark Knights: Representation and Misrepresentation in Later Stuart Britain: Partisanship and Political Culture, Oxford
University Press, 2005 (ISBN 0 19 9258333), £65
Mark Knights's 'Representation and Misrepresentation in Later Stuart Britain'appeared as part of a wave of important books
on the post-Restoration period: Gary de Krey on London, Harold Love on satire, Abigail Williams on Whig literary culture,
and the first of Tim Harris's 'big books'on the Restoration and Glorious Revolution respectively. It is a truly interdisciplinary
study of the vagaries of political discourse between the Restoration and the establishment of Whig oligarchical rule. It has
two major aims, each dominating its respective half of the book: to investigate the mechanisms by which people were physically
represented, and to consider how in practice this representation could be affected by 'ambiguity, relativity, dissimulation,
and fiction'. The factors which Knights identifies at work between 1660 and 1722 are quite often not new - wilful misrepresentations
of opponents in any sphere of life are as old as conflict and debate themselves - but he puts them in the context of new circumstances,
namely the establishment and development of party allegiances.
Because so much of his argument is based on the development of longer-term factors that found themselves in new circumstances
during the later Stuart period, and because he finishes his study later in the eighteenth century than most early modernists
are accustomed to, Knights's study has implications for the debate about periodisation: his arguments seem to point to a 'long
seventeenth century' ending in the early decades of the 1700s, rather than a 'long eighteenth century'with 1660 seen as a
turning point of modernity which seems to gloss the pages of Houston and Pincus's 'A Nation Transformed'. Knights also brings
a fresh approach to discussions on the public sphere, which have long been in danger of becoming stale, and he navigates a
via media (ironic, perhaps, considering the nature of his subject) through some contentious terms, most notably 'representation'
and 'participation'. Adopting such an accommodating approach he effectively covers his back as he steers through some dangerous
territory. He seeks to soothe rather than rile. Knights is honest about the issues that he does not intend to cover in depth:
namely sex and gender, art, rural communities, and the 'British' history (admittedly despite the book's title). The latter
approach is well covered anyway by Tim Harris's 'Restoration'(London, 2005). Finally, the freshness of Knights's approach
is underlined by his consideration of what might be considered 'minor'writers and theorists alongside the more familiar literary
and political giants.
The first half of the book is devoted to the ways in which the 'public'took on a new significance and importance after
the Restoration, principally through increased frequency of elections, routine appeal to public opinion, and emergence of
print genres that sought to advise people how to vote. Politicians had to recognise this new significance and persuade voters
that they should support them, or at least their version of the truth. In his study of Hertford and Chester, for example,
Knights sees elections, electioneering, print culture and public discourse, private debate, rival petitions and addresses
as constituting 'a contest to speak for, and to, the public'. Subscriptional activities like petitions and addresses, most
notably in the reigns of William and Anne with the heightened threat from France, 'reconciled and fused' participation and
representation, two models of the state that have usually been seen as being in conflict. Contemporaries saw the two as intertwined:
representative society was to be channelled through the 'structures of the dispersed, participatory, form of governance'.
Boroughs and counties were almost expected to participate through a kind of peer pressure, which itself contributed to the
establishment of rival addresses. Subscribing to petitions and addresses offered those on the social margins a form of representation,
but this was still limited. Communities of subscribers defined themselves against a rival 'other', as they quite often slipped
into the boundaries and language of party conflict. But the format that this took was quite often centred around submission,
hyperbole and acclamation; the 'public sphere'was at once enlarged and undermined as a significant part of it was placed in
the hands of government and its agents. Knights views addresses of thanks to the monarch (as a contrast to petitions against
grievances) as an important factor in the 'civilising process'; criticism had to be disguised as compliment, not within the
court as Kevin Sharpe has seen for the early Stuarts, but acting on the court from outside.
But how does Knights's thesis relate to Habermas's public sphere? Essentially Knights sees the public sphere as in tension
with itself from the very beginning. Whilst Habermas saw the undermining of rationality and critical faculty as a later characteristic
of modern politics, Knights sees this, mainly through public acclamation and flattery, as occurring much earlier. Were the
people anything more than irrational participants in debates, easily swayed, victims and tools of parties? Just because the
public voice had expanded, it had not necessarily become more rational. The genre of print that appealed to the electorate
on the one hand implied a rational voter who acted according to public rather than private good, but on the other suggested
that this voter had to be counselled away from rival pressures, bribes and misinformation that played on their irrationality
and gullibility. The result of the wrong choice, encouraged by the unreasonable, self-interested or enemies of the nation,
would be national catastrophe, especially considering the international threat. Of course, what constituted 'wrong', 'reasonable',
'self-interested' or 'enemy of the nation'varied according to the accuser's standpoint. The best way to counsel against the
'wrong choice' was an equal and opposite production of advice literature which was equally partisan despite its attempted
cloak of impartiality, which in turn provoked even more rival tracts, in a vicious partisan circle.
Just to complicate matters, one of the key features of partisan political culture was the denial of partisanship, and
the appropriation by each side of 'the national public voice'. Partisan MPs tried to legitimise their status by rising above
sectional interests; partisan tracts presented their position as the will of, working for the good of, the nation. Thus, voters
should exercise their reason by working in the interest of the national (i.e. party) good, not their private one. So we are
left with a paradox (and Knights likes paradoxes): that partisan rhetoric, in its attempt to explode opposing self-interested
partisan rhetoric, frequently critiqued partisanship, thus progressively restraining itself. Ironically, maybe here we have
the seeds of eighteenth century civility and polite reason. Impartiality, rationality and plain-speaking were invoked to contain
the ravages of party polemic, perhaps constituting a cultural process predating Plumb's 'growth of political stability' from
1714, such that Walpole was a 'representative'of this stability rather than its 'architect'. Of course, we should be careful
not to overplay this stability (just look at the prints of Hogarth and Rowlandson), but this is not Knights's battle; it is
a neat, logical and clever extension to the argument rather than the crux of the argument itself.
These last propositions lay in the second part of Representation and Misrepresentation which is as forensic and patient
as the first, but more exciting. In discussing 'Public Discourse and Truth', Knights follows Steve Zwicker (and any number
of early-, mid- and late-seventeenth century contemporaries, historians and literary critics) in the suspicion, exacerbated
by the polemical discourse of the 1640s, that 'words had come loose from meanings'. Political discourse of the period was
dominated by word games, gulling, uncertainty of meaning, different types of language, contested truths, deceit and dissimulation.
We have seen that each side, whether it be Whig/Tory, Low/High Church, Court/Country presented itself as the arbiter and protector
of the public national good, in defence of the sinister ploys against it by their opponents. The rhetoric of politicians,
quite often defending themselves against electoral losses, was designed to sway the reader through emotion rather than reason
(the very thing of course they claimed to be appealing to). Language itself became more intensely unstable and contested:
'people', 'liberty','religion', 'abdication', 'revenge','prerogative' 'property', 'the church', 'commonwealth', 'Whig', 'Tory',
'toleration' became more multivalent just as there were fears that voters were being 'bamboozled' by 'jargon', 'cant'and 'banter'.
Hoadly moaned in 1717 how 'the very same word remaining...by having multitudes of new inconsistent ideas, in every age and
every year, added to it, becomes itself the greatest hindrance to the true understanding of the nature of the thing first
intended by it'. Perhaps here Knights could have made more of the gradations of multivalency; did words like 'liberty' have
more contested meanings than words like 'property'?
Parties themselves were to a large extent the product of how the opposing side represented or misrepresented them. 'Truth'became
even more subjective, with a variety of versions of it on offer. Information was biased, filtered, distorted for partisan
ends: 'the public had to discern what was credible, but partisanship created a world in which the truth was relative and where
credibility was fictional and unstable'. Such debates continued in oral and manuscript culture, as well as through print culture,
the development of which intensified the potential of print to construct and reflect partisan allegiance.
After 1689 levels of print output returned to those of the 1640s, whilst post-publication refutation had taken over from
pre-publication licensing. The most novel feature of the print trade in the period under investigation was the expansion of
the news periodical: by 1709 there were eighteen London periodicals, including the first daily, first evening newspaper, fifteen
bi-weeklies and two tri-weeklies. Tories had 'The Post Boy, Examiner'and 'Rehearsal'; Whigs had 'The Post Man', 'Observator'and
'Medley'. By 1704 there were 2.3 million copies in circulation. Print was quite obviously political; it could be more intensely
subversive, controversial and provocative when combined with partisanship to the point that print and party were perceived
as symbiotic. Printed works too could generally achieve wider distribution than scribal publication, and new sites of public
discourse such as coffee houses intensified partisan debate. Many debates were not new, but they were being asked with greater
urgency and intensity in a new context. In 1716 the Triennial Act was replaced by the Septennial Act and, as elections became
less frequent, this intensity was to a great extent defused.
Of course there were other factors at work, and Knights effectively contextualises his politico-literary analysis amongst
social and economic developments. Partisan electioneering was partly blamed for distracting men away from trades that could
alleviate their poverty (the cost of poor relief had significantly increased during the rage of party). The burden of war
increased suspicion of the mob present in electioneering. And, as we have seen, whilst virtue and rationality remained central
to the political language of the later Stuart period, the hurly burly, incivility and corruption of the election scene was
viewed with increased suspicion. These are the kind of areas where some historians will feel more comfortable, the kind who
baulk at terms like 'multivocal', 'multivalent' and 'contested', sceptical about attaching too much importance to language
and its power. But Knights is right to consider political pieces as literary pieces, with political debate including some
degree of literary criticism: 'Argument, wit and style were fused, so that an attack on style was an attack on ideology, and
vice versa'.
To take on questions of periodisation, party, meaning, political participation, literary criticism (not to mention qualifying
Plumb and engaging in the ever-popular Habermas-bashing) over such a long and turbulent period is ambitious, but executed
brilliantly. It is questionable whether he needed to dwell so long on existing critiques of Habermas, who has long been seen
as offering a useful theoretical approach to the period, but one that requires much qualification. Thankfully he does not
revisit the debates of Tim Harris and Jonathan Scott (later recapitulated by John Patrick Montaño) about whether 'parties'
existed at certain given times. There are areas where Knights may have expanded the study: In practice, much of his material
comes from the post-1688 period, so his treatment is a little uneven. Halifax makes one or two cameo appearances, but would
have constituted a useful sustained inquiry into the language of reactions to or against party and trimming. This might have
helped with Knights's brief discussions about the nature of allegiance; just how stable were dividing labels and were they
the same in 1681 as in 1721? How did court/country relate to Whig/Tory?
Perhaps he could have been more sensitive to the language of confessional division in printed ephemera, beyond the mere
politics of religion, à la Peter Lake and Michael Questier. How far did Jacobites feature in any of this appeal to gulling
and/or reason? How did rhetoric conceptually relate to 'truth'(however defined)? Thomas Sprat does appear (Knights recognises
that Sprat bemoaned the use of cant by the Rye House plotters in 1683) but more could have been made of his call to a plain
language or indeed of projects to create a universal language in the face of multivalency and contested meanings. Perhaps
more could have been made about the contest over 'reason' itself: how different was the earl of Rochester's 'right reason',
say, from that espoused by the likes of John Tillotson or Edward Stillingfleet? What about studies of other languages? John
Webb's investigation into Chinese would have presented Knights with a goldmine of information about a perceived uncorrupted
language which allegedly lay behind China's increasingly envied economic, political and social structures. The stage, the
theatre (literally) of quite often political representation, debate and satire, too receives little attention. Where did the
pulpit stand in all of this? But these are just small questions and suggestions, which are quite often touched on anyway,
and should not detract from a challenging and excellent book.
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