John Adamson, The Noble Revolt. The Overthrow of Charles
I. (Weidenfeld & Nicolson. London. 2007. Xxii + 742 pages.)
I have just received two responses to my blog review of
John Adamson’s book the Noble Revolt and have now published both. Suffice to say
I will in time reply to some their points. While putting Adamson's work in a
wider context of new research on the Civil War. One question I will attempt to
answer is does it break new ground?
From Chris Thompson
I have now had the opportunity to read Keith Livesey’s
comments on his blog (“A Trumpet of Sedition”, 26 September, 2011) regarding
John Adamson’s book in detail. Keith Livesey has an intense interest in the
events of the 1640s and favours a Marxist interpretation as readers of his blog
will know. I enjoy reading what he has to say although I am often sceptical
about his claims. On this occasion, however, I fear that he is seriously
mistaken.
Let me begin with the historiographical issues he raises.
Nineteenth and early-twentieth century Whig historians argued that the English
Civil Wars of the 1640s were the result of constitutional and religious
struggles that paved the way for the establishment of a limited monarchy
alongside Parliamentary supremacy, the rule of law, freedom of the press and religious
toleration after the Glorious Revolution of 1688-1689. These were the Whigs’
themes from the time of Hallam and Macaulay to that of G.M.Trevelyan. This
argument was rejected by Marxist historians and those historians influenced by
Marx in the period before the Second World War and after it.
One thinks of
figures like R.H.Tawney, Christopher Hill and others who believed that
antecedent economic and social changes explained the origins and course of the
‘English Revolution’. Of course, there were historians like Hugh Trevor-Roper,
who was definitely not a Marxist, but who had his own socio-economic
explanation to advance in the late-1940s and early-1950s.
The ‘storm over the gentry’ and contrasting claims about
the fortunes of the peerage led to the great outpouring of theses and published
works on the landed elites and on counties in the 1950s and 1960s. It is fair
to say that this body of research left earlier arguments about the economic and
social causes of the English Civil Wars or Revolution still undetermined. The
controversy had run into the sand.
It was in this context that Conrad Russell observed in
1973 that social change explanations of this kind had failed. He left open the
possibility that new explanations of this sort might be advanced. Russell
himself and those historians advocating a new approach to the religious and
political history of the early Stuart period were concerned with the causes of
the breakdown in Stuart England before 1640: Theodore Rabb denominated them –
misleadingly in my view – as ‘revisionists’. It was against the claims of
Russell that historians like Richard Cust, Ann Hughes, Peter Lake and Tom
Cosgwell, i.e. the post-revisionists, reacted in the 1980s. But there was a
second group of historians, including John Morrill and Mark Kishlansky, engaged
more or less simultaneously in re-evaluating the conflicts of the 1640s. These
historians, whether or not they constituted one or two groups of
‘revisionists’, were certainly not mainly right-wing in their political persuasions.
Russell himself, Ann Hughes, Richard Cust and John Morrill would have rejected
such a description out of hand. In any case, by 1991 when Russell’s two books
on the origins of the English Civil War and the fall of the British monarchies
were published, revisionism and the reaction against it were over. New concerns
over images, propaganda and the public sphere were coming to preoccupy
seventeenth-century historians.
There was no attempt in the 1970s by the so-called
revisionists to put forward explanations entailing “a rejection of both the
Marxist and Whig views of English Civil War historiography” or “to pour scorn
on Marxist theory”. Whig views were regarded as methodologically flawed and
Marxist ones as anachronistic and irrelevant. They had ceased to matter. It is
certainly wrong to claim that John Adamson’s “politics and historical attitudes
were formulated during the Thatcher era.” John Adamson was a graduate of the
University of Melbourne and arrived in Cambridge long after Mrs Thatcher had become
Prime Minister. There is nothing in his book to suggest that he viewed the main
actors in the period before the end of January, 1642 as reacting blindly to
events or that he fails to explain or does not want to explain what provoked
this revolt of the nobles and their allies. Equally clearly, he has nothing in
its text or in the introduction to the volume of essays he edited in 2009, The
English Civil War, to suggest any denigration of Oliver Cromwell or that he
particularly admired King Charles I.
When Keith Livesey says that the book “contains
significant omissions which include the significant role played by the Earl of
Essex as Parliamentary commander after the outbreak of the civil war, the
creation of the Royalist party, the significance of the New Model Army, the
military defeat and elimination of the King, and the abolition of the House of
Lords”, the chronological and logical fallacies involved in such claims are all
too clear. None of these things had happened by the end of January, 1642 and thus
fell outside the scope of John Adamson’s book. They will, no doubt, be dealt
with in his later volumes.
Take, for example, the proposition advanced in his review
that “Adamson does not touch upon any of the controversies over the war” and
the contention four paragraphs later that he “accused some historians of
relying too much on large abstract forces and opposed a downplaying of the role
of the individual. He said”, so Keith Livesey argues, “he did not agree that
long term views got us anywhere or that it was a bourgeois revolution. He
[Adamson] felt that this “economic determinist” viewpoint did not explain too
much.”
The two claims are contradictory. But, if one reads Adamson’s book
carefully, it is possible to see that he did engage with earlier historians’
interpretations – e.g. throughout the footnotes and in his epilogue (Pages
513-516) and that the bulk of his introduction to the 2009 volume of essays
considers historiographical issues as a prelude to the work of his
contributors. Nowhere in the book is there any comment to link the decline of
Marxist influence on Civil War historiography with the fall of the Berlin Wall
or to explain the English Revolution as a result of Charles I’s inexperience
and vanity. Furthermore, no one can massage the egos of dead aristocrats.
In fact, almost all of Keith Livesey’s claims are either
unfounded or untenable. I understand why, as a Marxist, he regrets its passing
as an influence on the study of the events of the 1640s and 1650s since the
early-1970s and the great days of Christopher Hill. That was probably
inevitable as one generation of historians reacts against the claims of the
preceding one. I happen to think that this is a good, positive development
which has led to some profoundly important new lines of enquiry. John Adamson’s
work has contributed very largely to this process and will, I expect, continue
to do so into the future. His views on politics, whatever they may be, are
irrelevant to the importance of his research just as they are to the work of historians
of the left. We are all engaged in a continuing debate about these issues, a
debate to which, alas, this review has contributed very little.