Leveller Women and the English Revolution

Introduction: The Problem of Visibility

The historiography of the English Revolution has long reflected a paradox. While the period is seen as a crucial point in the development of modern political awareness—such as republicanism, constitutionalism, and democratic activism—women involved in these struggles have often been marginalised. History, and historians in general, have not been kind to the Leveller women radicalised during the English Revolution. This issue extends beyond archives to a broader historiographical problem: the analytical frameworks used to interpret the Revolution frequently overlook gender as a key factor. This essay explores how historians have studied Leveller women, how Marxist scholarship has reinterpreted their importance, and how contemporary research is working to incorporate gender, class, and political radicalism into a cohesive analytical approach.

Marxist Historiography and the English Revolution

Christopher Hill’s work remains the foundational reference. He argued that the English Revolution was not just a constitutional crisis but a deep social upheaval. His observation that the Revolution “helped many women both to establish their own independence and to envision a complete escape for the poorer classes” is crucial. It positions women’s activism as a result of structural changes—war, displacement, religious divisions, and the decline of traditional authority—rather than an anomaly. Hill’s Marxist approach, connecting ideology to material conditions, allowed for understanding women’s political rise. However, Hill did not produce a detailed study of Leveller women; his work is more suggestive than exhaustive.

The Levellers in Marxist Interpretation

Marxist historians have long debated the class identity of the Levellers. Were they petty-bourgeois democrats, radical republicans, or proto-socialists? John Rees’s view that the Levellers constituted a distinct political organisation rather than just a faction within Independency is significant. It helps us see Leveller women not as secondary figures but as active participants in a coherent political movement.

The Levellers’ demands—such as sovereignty of the Commons, legal reform, and expanding the franchise—were inherently limited by their social class. Their exclusion of women from voting highlights the contradictions of a movement rooted in small producers and artisans: radical in opposing aristocratic dominance, yet conservative in gender roles.

According to The Lawes Resolutions of Woman’s Rights (1632), married women were legally considered non-persons. This harsh fact has significantly influenced feminist historiography. Researchers like Ann Hughes, Susan Amussen, and Kate Aughterson have demonstrated that women’s political activities should be interpreted within this context of legal invisibility. Consequently, women’s petitions, protests, and pamphlets served as acts of political self-empowerment — moments where women asserted agency despite its formal absence.

The 1649 women’s petition is among the earliest English texts to advocate for gender equality explicitly. The quote — “we are assured of our creation in the image of God, and of an interest in Christ equal unto men” — uses theological reasoning to support political claims. Feminist historians note that religious language was often the only available way to express political equality. The petition’s call for equal legal protection — “Are any of our lives, limbs, liberties, or goods to be taken from us more than from men…?” — foreshadows later feminist demands for civil rights.

Class, Gender, and Contradiction

Soma Marik’s intervention is crucial: she questions the economic factors influencing women’s activism. The response reveals contradictions: women earned less than men; domestic work could undermine patriarchal authority; and war brought both independence and difficulties. This mirrors Marxist theory, suggesting women’s political awareness arises from the conflicting forces within a society in transition, rather than from ideology alone.

Ian Gentles challenges the simple narrative of poverty by revealing that Chidley’s family thrived during the Commonwealth era. This is significant for historiography, as it shows that radicalism did not necessarily correlate with economic hardship. Chidley’s activism was influenced by her religious beliefs, political background, and social mobility. Her pamphlet, The Justification of the Independent Churches of Christ, demonstrates her ability to craft nuanced polemics. Her defence of “the plaine truth of holy Scripture” is not anti-intellectual but a conscious rejection of clerical authority.

Elizabeth Lilburne and the Politics of Survival

Ann Hughes’s research on Elizabeth Lilburne emphasises the issue of sources: nearly all our knowledge comes via John Lilburne’s writings. Despite this bias, Elizabeth appears as a politically engaged individual—petitioning Parliament, negotiating with hostile authorities, and supporting her family during persecution. Her activities show that women’s political agency was frequently expressed through defending imprisoned men—a form of activism influenced by gender expectations but capable of producing significant change.

Lady Eleanor Davies represents a different strand of women’s radicalism: aristocratic, prophetic, anti‑royalist. Her repeated imprisonments and the burning of her books — “her books were burned by Archbishop Laud — and, for good measure, by both of her own husbands” — illustrate the breadth of female dissent. The fact that women’s printed work constitutes “less than one per cent” of surviving texts underscores the archival challenge. Feminist historiography must therefore reconstruct political agency from fragmentary evidence.

Recent historiography, particularly Gaby Mahlberg's research, reveals that wives of prominent republicans created informal political networks during the Revolution. This challenges the traditional view that women’s political involvement was just reactive, such as petitioning for imprisoned husbands or seeking clemency. Instead, these women engaged in a parallel realm of political communication, often more discreet, mobile, and less detectable by authorities than formal Leveller organisations.

Edmund Ludlow’s recollection illustrates the sophistication of these networks. He feared he would receive no royal pardon because, as he recorded, “the wife of Sir Henry Vane had told Elizabeth [Lilburne] that General Monck’s wife had said she would beg the king… to see Vane, Lambert, and Ludlow hanged.” This was not idle gossip. It was political intelligence, transmitted through a chain of women who understood its implications and acted upon it. Information about Monck’s intentions, the king’s likely severity, and the dangers facing republican leaders circulated through domestic spaces — kitchens, parlours, marketplaces — where male surveillance was weakest.

These networks show that women were more than just channels for male political ideas. They made collective judgments, evaluated risks, and offered advice to their husbands. Elizabeth Lilburne’s persistent urging that John “make peace with Cromwell,” which he dismissed as “mournfull arguments,” was actually a realistic political assessment of their circumstances. Like many Leveller women, her advice came from a clear understanding of the changing power dynamics and the dangers of ongoing conflict.

Recognising these informal networks forces a reconsideration of women’s political agency in the English Revolution. It shows that women were embedded within the organisational fabric of radical politics, even when excluded from formal structures. Their communication networks linked households, circulated intelligence, and sustained political coordination during periods of imprisonment, exile, and repression. Far from being marginal actors, Leveller women were integral to the revolutionary movement’s ability to survive and adapt — operating in spaces where political power was exercised quietly, strategically, and with remarkable courage.

Conclusion

The recognition of women’s informal political networks compels a fundamental rethinking of the English Revolution. It reveals that women were not simply petitioners at the margins of male politics, nor passive observers of events unfolding around them. They were active participants in the circulation of intelligence, the formation of political judgement, and the maintenance of radical organisation under conditions of repression and uncertainty. Their work took place in spaces historians once dismissed as “domestic.” Yet, these spaces proved essential to the survival of republican and Leveller politics when formal structures were disrupted by imprisonment, exile, or military defeat.

By foregrounding these networks, we gain a clearer sense of the Revolution’s social depth. Radicalism did not reside solely in pamphlets, army debates, or parliamentary confrontation; it lived also in households, marketplaces, and the everyday exchanges between women whose political insight was sharpened by necessity and sustained by solidarity. Their contributions were rarely recorded, often undervalued, and almost always overshadowed by the writings of their husbands — yet without them, the Leveller movement would have been immeasurably weaker.

To restore these women to the historical narrative is not an act of token inclusion but a recognition of political reality. They were organisers, strategists, communicators, and, in many cases, the last line of defence for imprisoned radicals. Their presence forces us to see the English Revolution not only as a struggle over constitutional forms but as a profound reordering of social relations, in which women carved out new spaces of agency within — and sometimes against — the constraints of patriarchal society.

In acknowledging their role, we enrich our understanding of the Revolution itself. We see more clearly how deeply its currents ran, how widely its ideas travelled, and how fiercely its participants — men and women alike — fought to shape the future. The Leveller women, in their petitions, pamphlets, and networks of quiet but decisive influence, remind us that the struggle for equality has always depended on those whose work is least visible but most essential. Their story is not an appendix to the Revolution; it is one of its most radical expressions.

Sources and Bibliography

Primary Sources

• “Women’s Petition” (1649). In J. O’Faolain and L. Martines, Not in God’s Image. New York: Harper and Row, 1973, pp. 266–267.
• Elizabeth Lilburne. A Petition of Women (5 May 1649).
• William Clarke Manuscripts. In A. S. P. Woodhouse (ed.), Puritanism and Liberty: Being the Army Debates (1647–9). Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1951.
• Simonds D’Ewes. Diary entries relating to women’s demonstrations, 8 August 1643.
• Katherine Chidley. The Justification of the Independent Churches of Christ (1641). Printed by William Larner.
• Thomas Edwards. Gangraena (1646).
• *The Lawes Resolutions of Woman’s Rights (1632).
• Lady Eleanor Davies. Prophetic writings and trial records (1633–1636).

Secondary Sources

Historiography and Marxist Scholarship

• Hill, Christopher. Women Turning the World Upside Down.
• Hill, Christopher. Irreligion in the Puritan Revolution.
• Rees, John. The Leveller Revolution: Radical Political Organisation in England, 1640–1650. London: Verso.

Social and Gender History

• Durston, Christopher. The Family in the English Revolution. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1989.
• Hughes, Ann. “Gender and Politics in Leveller Literature.” In Susan Amussen and Mark Kishlansky (eds.), Political Culture and Cultural Politics in England: Essays Presented to David Underdown. Manchester: Manchester University Press; New York: St Martin’s Press, 1995, pp. 162–188.
• Aughterson, Kate (ed.). Renaissance Woman: A Sourcebook: Constructions of Femininity in England.
• M’Arthur, Ellen A. “Women Petitioners and the Long Parliament.” The English Historical Review, Vol. 24, No. 96 (October 1909), pp. 698–709.
• Marik, Soma. “Women, Radicalism, and the English Revolution.” Social Scientist, Vol. 32 (2004), pp. 50–70.

Leveller Studies

• Gentles, Ian. “London Levellers in the English Revolution: The Chidleys and Their Circle.” Journal of Ecclesiastical History, Vol. 29 (1978), pp. 281–309.
• Mahlberg, Gaby. The History Woman (blog). Commentary on republican networks and women’s political communication.

Biographical and Contextual Works

• Woodhouse, A. S. P. (ed.). Puritanism and Liberty. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1951.
• Underdown, David. Works on political culture and popular radicalism (referenced indirectly through Hughes).

Digital and Reference Sources

• “Simonds D’Ewes.” Wikipedia.
• Gaby Mahlberg, thehistorywoman.com (blog).
• Archival materials relating to Lady Eleanor Davies (British Library, State Papers).

 

Against Continuity: Trotsky, the Transition Debate, and the Pseudo Left’s Political Dead End

Introduction

The debate over the transition from feudalism to capitalism remains a contentious topic in Marxist historiography. For more than a century, it has stood for deeper theoretical and political conflicts: debates about historical change, the relationship between economic and political shifts, and their implications for socialist strategies. Recently, however, the focus of this debate has shifted. An increasing number of pseudo-left scholars prefer ideas of continuity, national contexts, and eclectic methodologies, drifting away from Marxism’s revolutionary foundation toward a sociological perspective of gradual change. Henry Heller’s book, "The Birth of Capitalism: A 21st Century Perspective" (2012), exemplifies this development. Although it aims to elucidate capitalism’s origins, it ultimately obscures them through national exceptionalism, misapplied categories, and political pessimism.

This essay argues that the pseudo-left’s view of history is not only wrong but also politically damaging. It warps facts, overlooks capitalism’s global and revolutionary roots, and often weakens support for socialist efforts. Conversely, the traditional Marxist approach—especially Trotskyism—provides a straightforward way to understand capitalism’s uneven development and the various forces at play, helping us see its origins and ongoing crises. The significance of this matter goes beyond theory; it directly influences the future of revolutionary politics.1

The Continuity Turn in Marxist Historiography

The historiographical stance of the pseudo-left is based on a wider intellectual change that started in the late 20th century. Revisionist historians began to focus more on continuity rather than sudden breaks, viewing revolutions as part of enduring structural trends. The English Revolution was seen as a constitutional matter; the French Revolution was framed as a fiscal issue; the Industrial Revolution was regarded as a demographic shift. This revisionist trend paralleled the decline of Marxist thought in academia and the rise of post-structuralist scepticism toward overarching narratives.2

Within Marxist circles, the continuity perspective was articulated through the work of Maurice Dobb and Paul Sweezy, whose mid-century debate on transition shaped later discussions. Sweezy’s book, The Theory of Capitalist Development (1942), sought to move beyond his neoclassical education. Still, it significantly diverged from Marx, particularly regarding the falling tendency of the profit rate. This Dobb–Sweezy debate facilitated interpretations that minimised sudden breaks and focused on sustained long-term commercial growth.

By the 1970s, this trend became a deliberate attack on the very idea of revolution. As Dominic Alexander points out, mainstream history started to dismiss the notion that capitalism arose from truly revolutionary changes, instead seeing its development as part of an ongoing global trading network. The pseudo-left adopted this revisionist view wholesale, confusing its scholarly appearance with genuine theoretical depth.

Political Marxism and the National Straitjacket

The most impactful pseudo-left perspective in the transition debate is Political Marxism, linked to Robert Brenner and his followers. Brenner’s influential article, “Agrarian Class Structure and Economic Development in Pre-Industrial Europe” (1976), contended that capitalism arose primarily at the national level—in England—driven by shifts in agrarian class relations. He regarded international trade, colonial expansion, and global disparities as minor or insignificant factors.3

This idea of methodological nationalism is deliberate, reflecting a political stance that rejects the core internationalism of Marxism. Since capitalism has historically developed along national lines, socialism must follow the same path. If capitalism didn't require a global upheaval, socialism wouldn't either. The working class becomes a national entity, confined within national borders and limited to national strategies. Trotsky refuted this narrow view a century ago through his theory of uneven and combined development, which explains that capitalism doesn't emerge uniformly. Still, through conflicts between advanced and backward forms, it creates intense contradictions: “The law of uneven development governs the entire history of mankind.”[4] Capitalism is born, grows, and can only be overthrown on an international scale. Any history that denies this fact is not truly Marxist but nationalist.

The English Revolution and the Pseudo‑Left’s Historical Myopia

The pseudo-left’s view of the English Revolution illustrates the political impact of its approach. Brenner’s Merchants and Revolution (1993) simplifies the Revolution to a conflict between merchants and landlords, removing its revolutionary significance. Heller criticises Brenner on minor aspects but agrees with his broader national perspective.

Yet the historical evidence contradicts this reductionism. Valerie Pearl’s study of London merchants demonstrated that the wealthiest traders — those controlling the chartered companies — were overwhelmingly royalist, while “merchants of the middle rank” tended to support Parliament.[5] Brian Manning further cautioned that allegiance is difficult to establish even for well‑documented groups, complicating any attempt to map class position neatly onto political alignment.[6]

Revisionists seized on bourgeois participation on both sides to deny the Revolution’s bourgeois character. But as Ann Talbot argues, no revolution is “chemically pure.”[7] The English Revolution was uneven, contradictory, and impure — yet revolutionary nonetheless. It shattered feudal structures, opened the path to capitalist development, and demonstrated that political revolution is inseparable from economic transformation.

To deny the revolutionary character of 1640–60 is to deny the revolutionary character of capitalism itself. And to deny that is to deny the revolutionary capacity of the working class today.

The Global Birth of Capitalism

Marx’s description of primitive accumulation challenges pseudo-left nationalism. Capitalism didn’t originate solely in England but developed through various global events: the conquest of the Americas, the Atlantic slave trade, the collapse of Asian economies, the formation of worldwide commodity networks, and European commercial expansion. These weren’t continuous processes; instead, they caused ruptures across the world, exemplifying uneven and combined development at its most evident. Marx clearly depicted these dynamics, stating: “The discovery of gold and silver in America, the extermination, enslavement, and mining of indigenous populations… marked the beginning of capitalist production’s new era.”[8]

The pseudo-left struggles to accept this because it would mean recognising that capitalism’s contradictions are worldwide, which in turn implies that socialism’s conditions are also global. Their nationalism compels them to reject the very processes that Marx outlined. This historical perspective of the pseudo-left inevitably fosters political pessimism. Since capitalism developed gradually and nationally, without deliberate revolutionary action, socialism must follow the same pattern. Heller’s conclusion—that socialism is “centuries” away and should be approached through “experiments in socialism"—represents the logical conclusion of this continuity theory.[9]

This represents a revival of Menshevism, masquerading as scholarly analysis. It dismisses the revolutionary potential by prioritising academic credibility. In contrast, classical Marxism emphasises that capitalism operates as a worldwide system with global contradictions, crises, and the need for a global overthrow. The working class is capable of conscious revolutionary action without any need for experiments, long apprenticeships, or national detours. Conditions for socialism emerge directly from capitalism’s inherent global contradictions, not from pseudo-leftist gradualism.

Conclusion: Reclaiming Marxism from the Pseudo‑Left

The pseudo-left’s historiography on continuity is not only incorrect but also poses political risks. It dismisses the idea of rupture, agency, internationalism, and the revolutionary potential of the working class. Instead of Marxism, it promotes a cautious sociology of incremental change. To truly reclaim Marxism, one must embrace its proper historical method: dialectical, internationalist, and revolutionary. Trotsky’s concept of uneven and combined development offers the most compelling framework for understanding the origins of capitalism and its current crises. It reaffirms what the pseudo-left seeks to erase: the explosive, contradictory, and global nature of historical change. Capitalism’s emergence was not a gradual process but a storm. Its overthrow will not be a peaceful sunset, but a rupture—conscious, international, and revolutionary—driven not by isolated experiments but by the organised power of the working class.

Notes

1. Nick Beams, “Marxism and the Political Economy of Paul Sweezy,” World Socialist Web Site, 7 April 2004.
2. Dominic Alexander, review of The Birth of Capitalism, Counterfire, 2012.
3. Robert Brenner, “Agrarian Class Structure and Economic Development in Pre‑Industrial Europe,” Past and Present, 1976.
4. Leon Trotsky, The Third International After Lenin, Part I, Section 4.
5. Valerie Pearl, London and the Outbreak of the Puritan Revolution (Oxford University Press, 1961).
6. Brian Manning, The English People and the English Revolution (1976).
7. Ann Talbot, “The English Revolution and the Problem of Class,” World Socialist Web Site.
8. Karl Marx, Capital, Vol. I, Chapter 31.
9. Henry Heller, The Birth of Capitalism: A 21st Century Perspective (Pluto Press, 2012).

 

Our Man in Rome: Catherine Fletcher’s The Divorce of Henry VIII and the Limits of Liberal Micro History

Catherine Fletcher’s The Divorce of Henry VIII: The Untold Story from Inside the Vatican has received enthusiastic praise from the British cultural scene. The compliments are typical: described as a “brilliant feat of original research,” an “eye-opening” look at Tudor diplomacy, and a fresh contribution to a period thought to be overstudied after centuries of scholarship. However, these praises say more about the current intellectual climate than about the true historical importance of Fletcher’s work.

Fletcher is undoubtedly a skilled historian. Her discovery of Gregorio Casali — a mostly overlooked diplomatic agent working in Rome for Henry VIII — is a significant archival achievement. She writes clearly and with narrative flair, and her depiction of Casali’s environment, from papal court intrigues to the shady dealings of bribery and influence-peddling, is both engaging and insightful. However, the book’s strengths are closely tied to its limitations. Despite its detailed micro-history, it does not provide a broader historical explanation. It vividly describes Henry’s efforts to secure his divorce but offers little about why the English Reformation happened or the social forces behind it.

The Liberal Fetish for the “Untold Story”

The book’s premise—telling the divorce crisis from the perspective of a minor diplomatic figure—embodies a common trend in modern liberal historiography. This trend has moved away from viewing history primarily as shaped by social forces. Instead, it emphasises the “untold story,” focusing on forgotten individuals and marginal actors. This perspective is not politically neutral; it mirrors an ideological fatigue among the ruling class, which now tends to see history as a series of personal dramas, bureaucratic manoeuvres, and chance episodes rather than a broader social process.

Casali is a fascinating figure: a young Italian nobleman, well-connected, resourceful, and skilled at navigating the corrupt intricacies of the papal court. Fletcher provides a detailed account of his activities—covering bribes, gifts, thefts, and negotiations—building on her earlier research about gift-giving and corruption in early modern Rome. However, this narrow focus on Casali limits the broader perspective. The book ultimately becomes a study of diplomatic techniques rather than a deeper exploration of the significant transformations taking place across Europe.

Tudor England & The Birth of Capitalist Social Relations

Karl Marx did not produce a single comprehensive treatise on Tudor England. However, in his economic writings and historical notes, he consistently regarded the sixteenth century as a pivotal moment — when the old feudal system started to break down, and the roots of capitalism were established. To Marx, the Tudors were more than just vibrant monarchs or figures in a national story; they oversaw a social revolution.

Marx’s key insight is that feudalism fell not due to political schemes or royal personalities, but because the expansion of commodity production undermined its economic base, the monetisation of labour duties, and the rise of a rural bourgeoisie. In Capital, Marx straightforwardly characterises the late medieval crisis as: “The expropriation of the agricultural producer, of the peasant, from the soil is the basis of the whole process.” (Capital, Vol. I)

This expropriation—the violent detachment of the peasantry from their land—lies at the core of Marx’s analysis of Tudor England. It serves as the foundation for the formation of a proletariat. During the Tudor period, particularly under Henry VII and Henry VIII, the traditional feudal relations were already in rapid decline: feudal dues were increasingly converted into cash payments, lords depended more on paid retainers than on feudal levies, and commercial agriculture grew, fuelled by rising wool prices. A new class of “improving landlords” appeared, focused on profit rather than feudal duties. Marx regarded these changes not as mere isolated reforms but as the initial phases of capitalist accumulation.

The Dissolution of the Monasteries: Primitive Accumulation in Action

Marx’s detailed analysis of Tudor England focuses on the dissolution of the monasteries, viewing it as a prime example of primitive accumulation. This violent, state-led process laid the groundwork for capitalism. These monasteries were more than religious sites; they were significant landowners, employers, and social welfare centres. Their dissolution between 1536 and 1541 led to a major transfer of property from the church to secular authority, the emergence of a new landowning class that became the backbone of the English bourgeoisie, and the eviction of tens of thousands of tenants, which sped up the rise of a landless workforce. Marx stated, “The Reformation in England was a gigantic process of spoliation.” (Capital, Vol. I)

This “spoliation” was integral to Henry’s divorce and served as the driving force behind the English Reformation. Marx highlights that the Tudor monarchy had a paradoxical role, simultaneously acting as: the dismantler of feudal chaos by suppressing noble private armies; the catalyst of capitalist development through enclosure, expropriation, and market enforcement; and the protector of absolutism by resisting the political demands of the emerging bourgeoisie. This contradiction clarifies why Tudor support from the commercial classes persisted in the 15th and 16th centuries, while the Stuart monarchy—bearing the same absolutist framework—was ultimately overthrown by those same classes in the 17th century.

Although Marx did not live to document the complete history of this transition, Christopher Hill later posed the question in explicitly Marxian terms: why did the alliance between Crown and Parliament break down? The explanation is rooted in the very process Marx described — the expansion of capitalist forces that clashed with monarchical absolutism.

Enclosure: The Creation of the Proletariat

Marx’s most striking descriptions of Tudor England focus on the enclosure movement. He vividly portrays the forced eviction of peasants, using language that foreshadows the WSWS’s commentary on modern social devastation: “The history of this expropriation is written in the annals of mankind in letters of blood and fire.” (Capital, Vol. I) During the Tudor era: common lands were enclosed, peasants were forcibly ousted, vagabondage laws criminalised the displaced, and labour discipline was enforced through whipping, branding, and execution. Marx viewed these harsh measures as the tumultuous birth of capitalism—marking the rise of a class compelled to sell their labour.

Henry VIII and the Reformation: A Social, Not Personal, Crisis

Marx rejected the idea, still upheld by revisionists, that Henry’s split from Rome was merely personal or theological. Instead, he saw it as a political act reflecting a deeper social change: the English state asserting its sovereignty over the Church’s universal authority. This move stopped the flow of wealth to Rome and broke the Catholic Church’s ideological dominance, allowing space for bourgeois religious movements like Calvinism and Puritanism. Additionally, property relations across the nation were reshaped. According to Marx, Henry VIII was not just a tyrant motivated by sexual frustration but a complex agent of historical change—a king whose personal motives intersected with larger structural forces he could neither fully grasp nor control.

The Long Arc Toward Revolution

Marx’s scattered observations on Tudor England suggest a broader conclusion: the 1640s English Revolution was not an unpredictable outburst but the result of a long-standing historical process. The Tudors dismantled feudalism, while the Stuarts aimed to uphold absolutism. As the bourgeoisie grew stronger through the very processes Marx describes, it ultimately challenged and overthrew the state that had facilitated its emergence. Scholars like Hill, Dobb, and Tawney expanded this idea into a comprehensive Marxist view of English history. However, the core remains Marx’s: the Reformation and Tudor revolution marked key phases in the shift from feudalism to capitalism.

What Fletcher Cannot See

Henry VIII's divorce was part of a larger social upheaval that had been unfolding over centuries. The late medieval system—often called “bastard feudalism”—was in decline. The emergence of market economy, the rise of the bourgeoisie, and the increased monetisation of feudal duties all chipped away at the old societal structure. Events like the Black Death, the Peasants’ Revolt, and the centralisation of royal power under the Tudors mark stages in a prolonged shift from feudalism to capitalism.

This transition was neither smooth nor merely the result of monarchs' whims. Instead, it was fuelled by the clash between rising economic powers and the political-religious institutions of medieval Europe. Luther’s 1517 revolt was more than a theological dispute; it embodied a social revolution’s ideological core. Similarly, the English Reformation cannot be reduced—despite revisionist historians' claims—to Henry’s sexual frustrations or the supposed "deficiencies of his reproductive system.” Such explanations, still popular in some academic circles, are fundamentally flawed. They ignore the roles of class forces, economic interests, and political conflicts.

David Walsh, writing on the WSWS, highlighted that Henry’s split from Rome signalled the rise of economic forces incompatible with feudal society and the growth of a national identity. The Act of Supremacy in 1534 was more than just a legal move; it formally established a new political order. The dissolution of the monasteries was not merely a consequence of Henry’s marital issues but a significant transfer of property that sped up the development of capitalist relations in England.

None of this is covered in Fletcher’s book. The Reformation serves as a backdrop, a distant rumble behind diplomatic scenes. The reader might think history is shaped by clever agents, secret negotiations, and the personal worries of kings — exactly the perspective the WSWS has always challenged.

The Historical Question Fletcher Cannot Pose.

Christopher Hill, a renowned Marxist historian, posed a key question: why did the Tudor monarchy, once backed by the emerging merchant classes, turn into a tyrannical regime? Why did the alliance between Crown and Parliament—created to oppose the feudal nobility and the authority of Rome—break down so dramatically in the 1640s? This question cannot be answered by examining Casali’s letters or the protocol of papal gift-giving. Instead, it demands an understanding of broad historical trends in England: the rise of capitalist relations, the conflicts within the early modern state, and the eventual outbreak of civil war and revolution. Fletcher’s book, limited to a very narrow narrative scope, cannot address these issues. This is not a lack of research but a flaw in the choice of historical approach.

The Divorce of Henry VIII is a well‑written, thoroughly researched, and often engaging work of micro‑history. It succeeds on its own terms. But those terms are inadequate. The book offers a detailed account of diplomatic manoeuvring while leaving untouched the social forces that shaped the Reformation and the modern world. Readers seeking to understand the historical significance of Henry’s break with Rome — not merely its bureaucratic mechanics — must turn to the Marxist tradition: Hill, Tawney, and the analyses published on the WSWS. Fletcher has recovered a forgotten man. But the history that matters remains elsewhere.

Tudor England: Sources and Bibliography

I. Primary Marx & Engels Sources

Karl Marx

• Capital: A Critique of Political Economy, Vol. I. (Especially Part VIII: “So‑Called Primitive Accumulation.”)
• Capital, Vol. III.
• Grundrisse: Foundations of the Critique of Political Economy.
• Pre‑Capitalist Economic Formations.
• Theories of Surplus Value, Vols. I–III.
• The German Ideology (with Engels).
• Critique of the Gotha Programme.
• Letters to Vera Zasulich (for Marx’s reflections on communal property and historical transitions).

Friedrich Engels

• The Peasant War in Germany.
• Anti‑Dühring.
• Socialism: Utopian and Scientific.
• The Origin of the Family, Private Property and the State.
• England in 1845 and 1885: The Condition of the Working Class in England (for later consequences of Tudor-era transformations).

II. Marxist Historians on Feudalism → Capitalism

Christopher Hill

• The English Revolution 1640.
• Society and Puritanism in Pre‑Revolutionary England.
• The Century of Revolution, 1603–1714.
• The World Turned Upside Down: Radical Ideas During the English Revolution.
• Economic Problems of the Church: From Archbishop Whitgift to the Long Parliament.
• Puritanism and Revolution.
• Intellectual Origins of the English Revolution.
• Change and Continuity in Seventeenth‑Century England.
• Reformation to Industrial Revolution (with R. H. Tawney).

R. H. Tawney

• The Agrarian Problem in the Sixteenth Century.
• Religion and the Rise of Capitalism.
• The Rise of the Gentry, 1558–1640 (classic debate with Trevor‑Roper).

Maurice Dobb

• Studies in the Development of Capitalism.
• The Transition from Feudalism to Capitalism (Dobb–Sweezy debate).

Eric Hobsbawm

• The Age of Revolution.
• Industry and Empire.
• Labouring Men (essays on class formation).

E. P. Thompson

• The Making of the English Working Class.
• Customs in Common (especially essays on enclosure and moral economy).

Rodney Hilton

• Bond Men Made Free: Medieval Peasant Movements and the English Rising of 1381.
• The English Peasantry in the Later Middle Ages.
• Class Conflict and the Crisis of Feudalism.

III. Marxist and Materialist Studies of Tudor England

On the Tudor State, Reformation, and Social Transformation

• Lawrence Stone, The Crisis of the Aristocracy, 1558–1641.
• G. R. Elton, The Tudor Revolution in Government (not Marxist, but essential for state formation).
• A. G. Dickens, The English Reformation.
• Jack Scarisbrick, Henry VIII.
• Diarmaid MacCulloch, The Reformation: A History (broad but indispensable).
• Peter Linebaugh, The London Hanged (on law, labour discipline, and early capitalism).
• Robert Brenner, Merchants and Revolution (on class conflict and the English bourgeoisie).

On Enclosure, Primitive Accumulation, and Agrarian Change

• J. A. Yelling, Common Field and Enclosure in England, 1450–1850.
• Joan Thirsk, The Agrarian History of England and Wales, Vols. IV–V.
• E. Kerridge, Agrarian Problems in the Sixteenth Century and After.
• W. G. Hoskins, The Age of Plunder: The England of Henry VIII.
• Karl Polanyi, The Great Transformation (for enclosure as social catastrophe).

IV. WSWS and Contemporary Marxist Analysis

David Walsh (WSWS)

• “Elizabeth and a Weakened Historical Sense,” World Socialist Web Site, 3 December 1998.
• “Christopher Hill and the English Revolution,” WSWS essays and obituaries.
• “The English Revolution and the Development of Historical Materialism” (WSWS commentary).

Nick Beams (WSWS)

• Essays on primitive accumulation, capitalism’s origins, and Marx’s method.

Tom Mackaman (WSWS)

• Articles on early modern class formation and historical method.

WSWS Cultural & Historical Analysis

• Reviews of Hill, Tawney, and debates on the transition from feudalism to capitalism.
• WSWS coverage of contemporary attacks on materialist historiography.

V. Tudor Political, Social, and Economic History (Non‑Marxist but Essential)

General Tudor Studies

• John Guy, Tudor England.
• Susan Brigden, New Worlds, Lost Worlds: The Rule of the Tudors.
• Steven Gunn, Henry VII’s New Men and the Making of Tudor England.
• Eamon Duffy, The Stripping of the Altars (Catholic England before the Reformation).
• Ethan Shagan, Popular Politics and the English Reformation.

Diplomacy, Rome, and Henry’s Divorce

• Catherine Fletcher, The Divorce of Henry VIII: The Untold Story from Inside the Vatican.
• Catherine Fletcher, Diplomatic Renaissance: The Papal Court and Early Modern Politics.
• G. W. Bernard, The King’s Reformation (revisionist counterpoint).

VI. Primary Sources for Tudor England

• Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic, of the Reign of Henry VIII (21 volumes).
• State Papers Online: Early Modern Government.
• The Acts of the Privy Council.
• The Statutes of the Realm (for enclosure laws, vagrancy acts, and Reformation legislation).
• The Chronicle of the Grey Friars of London.
• The Zurich Letters (Reformation correspondence).
• The Pilgrimage of Grace and the Exeter Conspiracy

 

The Star Chamber-Alison Stuart

Inspired by Keith Livesey's post on the Levellers I thought it might be appropriate to talk about "the Star Chamber" which reached such a level of infamy during the reign of Charles I that the term "Star Chamber" still exists in our idiom today.  It is generally used to denote any judicial or quasi-judicial action, trial, or hearing which so grossly violates standards of "due process" that a party appearing in the proceedings (hearing or trial) is denied a fair hearing.

It has its origins in the fourteenth century and is said to have derived from a room in the Palace of Westminster decorated with a starred ceiling where the King and his privy council met. Initially, it served the valuable role as a "conciliar court" which were convened at short notice to deal with urgent matters. Initially well regarded because of its speed and flexibility, it was made up of Privy Counsellors, as well as common-law judges, and supplemented the activities of the common-law and equity courts in both civil and criminal matters. In a sense, the court was a supervisory body, overseeing the operations of lower courts, though its members could hear cases by direct appeal as well. The court was set up to ensure the fair enforcement of laws against prominent people, those so powerful that ordinary courts could never convict them of their crimes.

In 1487, a Star Chamber Act was enacted setting up a special tribunal to deal with subversive activities within the King's household. In theory, the Star Chamber could only take cognisance of a matter if there was a good reason to interfering with the ordinary processes of law. In practice, it meant that it heard cases and impose punishments in matters where no actual crime had been committed but, in the subjective opinion of the court, were considered morally reprehensible. The sort of matters coming before it would now constitute offences such as conspiracy, libel, forgery, perjury, riot, conspiracy and sedition. Henry VII and Henry VIII, in particular, used the power of the Star Chamber to break the powerful nobles who opposed his reign. Prosecutions were brought by the Attorney General and prisoners tried summarily by affidavit and interrogation (which very often included torture). Punishments included fines, imprisonment, pillory, branding or loss of an ear. It did not have the power to order a death sentence.

It's more sinister side began to emerge by the end of the fifteenth and into the sixteenth century when it began to lose its "civil" side, and notwithstanding its inability to mete out death, by the reign of Charles I, the Star Chamber had achieved a terrible reputation for severity and tyranny.

Charles I routinely used the Star Chamber Charles to examine cases of sedition, which meant that the court could be used to suppress opposition to royal policies. It came to be used to try nobles too powerful to be brought to trial in the lower court. During the time of Charles "personal rule", he ruthlessly stamped down on the freedom of the press and religious and political dissenters.  William Prynne, Alexander Leighton, John Bastwick and Henry Burton, all appeared before the Star Chamber for their views on religious dissent. William Prynne, for example, was a puritan who published a number of tracts opposing religious feast days and entertainment such as stage plays. The latter was construed as a direct attack on the Queen and in 1634 he was sentenced in the Star Chamber to life imprisonment, a fine of £5000, he was stripped of his qualifications and membership of Lincolns Inn and lost both his ears in the pillory.

It was the treatment of John Lilburne that eventually led to the abolition of the Star Chamber. As you will have read in Keith Livesey's post, John was a Leveller ("Free born John"). In 1637 he was arrested for publishing unlicensed books (one of them by William Prynne). In that time all printing presses had to be officially licensed. John was brought before the Star Chamber In his examinations, he refused to take the oath known as the 'ex-officio' oath (on the ground that he was not bound to incriminate himself), and thus called in question the court's usual procedure. On 13 February 1638 he was sentenced to be fined £500, whipped, pilloried, and imprisoned till he obeyed.

On 18 April 1638 Lilburne was flogged with a three-thonged whip on his bare back, as he was dragged by his hands tied to the rear of an ox cart from Fleet Prison to the pillory at Westminster. He was then forced to stoop in the pillory where he still managed to campaign against his censors while distributing more unlicensed literature to the crowds.  He was then gagged. Finally, he was thrown in prison. He was taken back to the court and again imprisoned. During his imprisonment in Fleet he was cruelly treated. While in prison he, however, managed to write and to get printed in 1638 an account of his own punishment styled The Work of the Beast and in 1639 an apology for separation from the church of England, entitled Come out of her, my people. John spent the next few years going back and forth between the Star Chamber and prison.

In 1640, the King's personal rule ended and he was forced to reconvene Parliament. Incensed by John Lilburne's treatment at the hands of the Star Court, John Pym led a campaign to abolish it and in 1640 one of the most significant pieces of legislation in the western world was enacted, the Habeus Corpus Act. This Act abolished the Star Chamber and declared that anyone imprisoned by order of the king, privy council, or any councilor could apply for a writ of habeas corpus (literally meaning "release the body") and it required that all returns to the writ "certify the true cause" of imprisonment.  It also clarified that the Court of Common Pleas had jurisdiction to issue the writ in such cases (prior to which it was argued that only the King's Bench could issue the writ). On this statute stands our basic right to a fair trial.

Despite the rights of Habeas Corpus, "Star Chambers" still creep into our modern age. In modern American history, for example,  the best example of star chamber proceedings was the conduct of the House UnAmerican Activities Committee (1938-1975) which used its subpoena power to intimidate citizens by asking them unconstitutional questions about their political beliefs and associations and then charging them with contempt of Congress for refusing to answer. Another example was the conduct of criminal proceedings against black defendants in some southern states from 1876 until the late 1960s. As a lawyer I have my doubts about the proceedings against the Guantamo Bay detainees but this is probably not the time and place to discuss these issues.

References:

An Introduction to Legal History J.H. Baker

Luminarium, Encyclopedia Project http://www.luminarium.org/encyclopedia/starchamber.htm

http://www.alisonstuart.com

http://www.hoydensandfirebrands.blogspot.com

Cromwell as the Dialectical Figure of Transition: A Marxist Reading of Ian Gentles’ Oliver Cromwell: God’s Warrior and the English Revolution

Oliver Cromwell's role in the English Revolution remains debated among historians. Traditional Whig views see him as a champion of constitutional liberty, while revisionists portray him as a political opportunist or a provincial gentleman made prominent by chance. Post-revisionists try to combine these perspectives but often overlook the social aspects of the revolution. Gentles’ biography notes that the revolution gradually shifted England from feudalism to capitalism and that Cromwell was influential in this change. A Marxist interpretation thus focuses less on Cromwell’s personal traits or military skill and more on the societal and class forces that drove his rise to power.

Cromwell’s class position and the crisis of the 1640s

Cromwell’s rise is closely linked to the gradual decline of feudal systems and the emergence of commercial and agrarian capitalism. His economic actions, as documented by Gentles, show he was a provincial gentleman whose wealth depended on expanding commercial agriculture and credit. Gentles highlights that Cromwell frequently cancelled debts and even funded military campaigns, including the Irish campaign, using his own money. These acts are not typical of a feudal lord defending inherited privileges, but rather reflect the political investments of a social group confident that dismantling the old order would protect its material interests.

Cromwell’s religiosity, often seen as central to his character, should be viewed as the ideological expression through which this class interpreted its rise. His beliefs in providence, moral discipline, and the emphasis on “liberty of conscience” reflected the worldview of a social group striving for freedom from monarchical and episcopal control, while reinforcing the importance of property, contracts, and labour discipline. In this context, religion isn't separate from class analysis but serves as its cultural manifestation.

However, Cromwell’s importance extends beyond mere class standing. In Marxist terms, he embodies a historical tendency, serving as the agent through which the emerging bourgeoisie operates. Cromwell was not the author of the revolution but its instrument; not the creator of capitalism but its midwife. His role is intrinsically linked to the revolutionary process itself.

The New Model Army and the dialectic of revolution

The New Model Army represented the most advanced form of the revolutionary movement, uniting middle-class interests, artisans, small producers, and the lower gentry into a disciplined, ideologically driven force capable of overthrowing the feudal state's military power. Cromwell’s leadership was not coincidental; his social background allowed him to bridge the Army’s radical democratic elements—such as the Levellers and soldiers’ councils—and its conservative, property-protecting factions, including the officer corps and Parliamentarians.

Cromwell’s suppression of Leveller mutinies, often seen as hypocrisy or betrayal, was actually a vital move by a bourgeois revolutionary. The revolution needed to rally the lower classes to overthrow the old order, yet also had to contain them once their demands risked surpassing bourgeois property limits. This dialectic — unleash, then restrain — is not a personal contradiction but the structural logic of bourgeois revolution itself.

This pattern is not exclusive to England. Every bourgeois revolution involves forces whose goals go beyond bourgeois boundaries: such as the sans-culottes in France, the radical democrats of 1848, and the workers’ councils in Russia before October. Therefore, the English Revolution exemplifies a universal pattern: bourgeois revolutions are driven to rally the masses to overthrow feudalism and later suppress them when they endanger property.

The Protectorate and the formation of a bourgeois state

The Protectorate (1653–58) marks the first sustained effort to establish a modern state in England. Its key reforms—centralised taxation, a professional military, cautious religious tolerance, and expanded overseas trade—indicate the development of a proto-capitalist state. Cromwell’s government was neither a return to feudal rule nor simply a military dictatorship; it was an early form of the bourgeois state, working to stabilise revolutionary gains while suppressing radical movements.

The period's administrative innovations—such as centralised taxation, county committees, a professional standing army, and a unified national bureaucracy—embody the nascent modern state in institutional terms. These changes were driven not by Cromwell’s personal preferences but by the structural needs of a society shifting toward capitalist relations. The old feudal state, characterised by decentralised authority, personal loyalties, and fiscal disarray, failed to meet the demands of expanding trade, colonial ambitions, or the political ambitions of the middle classes. Despite its instability, Cromwell's regime signified the new principles of state power: rationalisation, centralisation, and the reduction of local and aristocratic independence in favour of a national authority.

The phrase “godly reformation” provided the moral language used to justify these changes — shaping how labour was regulated, social life was disciplined, and hierarchical structures that supported capitalist ties were reinforced. It is no coincidence that during this same era, there was a rise in labour discipline, moral policing, and social regulation. These practices embody the cultural expressions of a new economic system.

The Protectorate’s shifting between parliamentary governance and military rule exposes a fundamental contradiction of the English Revolution. While it dismantled the old feudal order, it failed to establish a stable new system. The bourgeoisie was powerful enough to overthrow feudalism but remained too weak to govern directly. Therefore, Cromwell’s authoritarian approach is not a mistake but a reflection of the revolution’s ongoing unfinished process.

Revolution, counter‑revolution, and the limits of bourgeois agency

Cromwell’s career highlights the inherent contradictions of bourgeois revolution. While he dismantled the old order, he struggled to build a stable new system. He rallied radical groups but ended up suppressing them. He promoted liberty of conscience yet enforced political authoritarianism. These paradoxes are not due to personal flaws but stem from the structural ambivalence of a class that is revolutionary in fighting feudalism but conservative in defending property.

The suppression of the Levellers, the dissolution of the Rump, and the imposition of the Major-Generals were not deviations from Cromwell’s ideals; rather, they were necessary actions by a class that needed popular support to win the revolution but was wary of the social aftermath of its success. The bourgeoisie could not permit the Army's democratic aims or the sectaries' radicalism to overhaul the social order beyond property and hierarchy. Cromwell’s authoritarian approach was, in this perspective, not a betrayal but an extension of the revolution — the point at which the revolutionary fervour of the lower classes was restrained to preserve the emerging capitalist structure. This is Cromwell’s tragedy: he embodies a revolutionary class only in destroying feudalism, not in creating a new social order. He carries history forward while being crushed by its contradictions.

Ireland and the colonial dimension of bourgeois revolution

The English Revolution was more than a domestic event; its influence extended to Ireland, Scotland, and the Atlantic. Cromwell’s Irish campaign, often seen as a moral failure or tragic excess, should be viewed as a key part of capitalist imperialism, not a deviation from it. Gentles highlights that Cromwell’s anti-Catholic stance was shared by the emerging bourgeoisie of the time, and his actions in Ireland helped shape Irish nationalism later on. The broader importance of the campaign lies in how it facilitated violent land reforms, the creation of a Protestant settler community, and Ireland’s integration into England’s economic system.

The massacres at Drogheda and Wexford were not mere anomalies; they served as terroristic means to enforce a new property system. The plantation approach, redistribution of seized lands, and suppression of Catholic political influence were crucial in establishing a capitalist agrarian economy in Ireland. Cromwell’s acts of imperial violence highlight the global scope of the bourgeois revolution, linking the strengthening of capitalist relations domestically with colonial control overseas. Ireland thus became a testing ground for colonial dominance, where religious ideology justified the brutal enforcement of a new economic structure.

Cromwell’s historical legacy: destruction as creation

Gentles’ conclusion that Cromwell’s achievements were “chiefly destructive” overlooks the dialectical process of revolutionary change. Revolutions inherently involve destruction, but from that destruction, something new and better often emerges. The dismantling of the monarchy, the episcopal church, and the feudal aristocracy was not an end in itself; it served as the necessary foundation for a new social order to develop.

Cromwell’s legacy should be viewed through the lens of historical necessity rather than moral judgment. He was the figure who dismantled the old order and helped build the new one. His contradictions reflect the revolutionary upheaval; his violence embodies the struggle of a rising class seeking dominance; his failures highlight the bourgeoisie’s inability to secure victory without resorting to authoritarian measures. Cromwell is neither a hero nor a villain, nor a saint or a tyrant. Instead, he represents the historical process of the English bourgeois revolution: a figure that is both essential and tragic, both creative and destructive, embodying revolutionary change and conservative stability.

Conclusion: Cromwell as the dialectical figure of transition

Reinterpreting Cromwell from a Marxist perspective involves emphasising the social aspects of the revolution and placing his actions within the broader structural changes in English society. Cromwell was not the originator of the revolution but a tool of its implementation; he did not invent capitalism but facilitated its development; he was not a symbol of liberty but a representative of a new form of control. His life and career highlight the complex interplay of destruction and creation, mobilisation and repression, national liberation and colonial violence.

Sources and Bibliography

Primary Sources

• Cromwell, Oliver. Letters and Speeches of Oliver Cromwell, ed. Thomas Carlyle. London: Chapman & Hall, 1845.
• The Clarke Papers, ed. C.H. Firth. 4 vols. London: Camden Society, 1891–1901.
• The Thomason Tracts, British Library, London.
• Rushworth, John. Historical Collections. 7 vols. London, 1659–1701.
• The Putney Debates, in Puritanism and Liberty, ed. A.S.P. Woodhouse. London: J.M. Dent, 1938.
• The Acts and Ordinances of the Interregnum, 1642–1660, ed. C.H. Firth and R.S. Rait. London: HMSO, 1911.
• The Journals of the House of Commons, vols. 3–7 (1640–1660). London: HMSO.

Secondary Sources: Marxist and Materialist Historiography

• Marx, Karl. The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte. 1852.
• Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels. Selected Correspondence. Moscow: Progress Publishers, 1975.
• Hill, Christopher. The World Turned Upside Down: Radical Ideas During the English Revolution. London: Penguin, 1972.
• Hill, Christopher. God’s Englishman: Oliver Cromwell and the English Revolution. London: Penguin, 1970.
• Hill, Christopher. The English Revolution 1640. London: Lawrence & Wishart, 1940.
• Dobb, Maurice. Studies in the Development of Capitalism. London: Routledge, 1946.
• Brenner, Robert. “Agrarian Class Structure and Economic Development in Pre‑Industrial Europe.” Past & Present 70 (1976): 30–75.
• Wood, Ellen Meiksins. The Origin of Capitalism: A Longer View. London: Verso, 2002.
• Anderson, Perry. Lineages of the Absolutist State. London: Verso, 1974.

Secondary Sources: Revisionist and Post‑Revisionist Historiography

• Gentles, Ian. Oliver Cromwell: God’s Warrior and the English Revolution. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011.
• Gentles, Ian. The New Model Army in England, Ireland and Scotland, 1645–1653. Oxford: Blackwell, 1992.
• Morrill, John. Revolt in the Provinces: The People of England and the Tragedies of War, 1630–1648. London: Longman, 1976.
• Morrill, John. “The Religious Context of the English Civil War.” Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 34 (1984): 155–178.
• Russell, Conrad. The Causes of the English Civil War. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990.
• Russell, Conrad. Parliamentary History, 1603–1642. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1979.
• Woolrych, Austin. Britain in Revolution, 1625–1660. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002.
• Woolrych, Austin. Oliver Cromwell. London: Longman, 1990.
• Reid, John. The Scottish Covenanters and the English Civil War. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1982.

Secondary Sources: Radicalism, Sectaries, and Popular Politics

• Sharp, Buchanan. In Contempt of All Authority: Rural Workers and the English Rising of 1381. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1980.
• Reay, Barry. The Quakers and the English Revolution. London: Temple Smith, 1985.
• Hessayon, Ariel, and David Finnegan (eds.). Varieties of Seventeenth‑Century Radicalism. Farnham: Ashgate, 2011.
• Peacey, Jason. Print and Public Politics in the English Revolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013.
• Manning, Brian. The English People and the English Revolution. London: Heinemann, 1976.
• Manning, Brian. 1649: The Crisis of the English Revolution. London: Bookmarks, 1992.

Secondary Sources: Ireland, Empire, and Colonialism

• Lenihan, Pádraig. Consolidating Conquest: Ireland 1603–1727. London: Routledge, 2014.
• Ó Siochrú, Micheál. God’s Executioner: Oliver Cromwell and the Conquest of Ireland. London: Faber & Faber, 2008.
• Canny, Nicholas. Making Ireland British, 1580–1650. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001.
• Plant, David. Cromwell and Ireland. London: British History Online, 2010.
• Armitage, David. The Ideological Origins of the British Empire. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000.

Secondary Sources: State Formation and Political Theory

• Skinner, Quentin. The Foundations of Modern Political Thought, vol. II. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978.
• Tawney, R.H. Religion and the Rise of Capitalism. London: Penguin, 1926.
• Gorski, Philip. The Disciplinary Revolution: Calvinism and the Rise of the Modern State. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003.
• Weber, Max. The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism. London: Allen & Unwin, 1930.

Suggested Further Reading (for Marxist Dialectical Context)

• Trotsky, Leon. History of the Russian Revolution. London: Pluto Press, 1977.
• Trotsky, Leon. The Permanent Revolution. New York: Pathfinder, 1978.
• Hobsbawm, Eric. The Age of Revolution, 1789–1848. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1962.
• Hobsbawm, Eric. Industry and Empire

 

Bandit Queen commented on The English Civil War- Trial of The King Killers

Excellent drama and history of the trials of the men who killed Charles I and the revenge of the monarchy that they tried to abolish, the sources are well represented here and here their own words and testimony. It was brilliant.

   

Nick commented on Oliver Cromwell: God's Warrior and the English Revolution (British History in Perspective) Professor Ian Gentles

I really enjoyed this review - thanks for posting it, I must get round to reading Gentles's book soon.

On the subject of Cromwell and the junto, I don't think it's disputed that he was involved in its fringes during the early 1640s. His links to Oliver St John and through that to the circle around the Earl of Warwick and Viscount Saye and Sele are well documented. Where historians disagree - and ultimately the evidence is too slender to prove either way - is quite how much a part of the circle he was.

It's possible to see his interventions in the Long Parliament in 1640/41 as naive and over-reaching, misjudging the politics of the day, but equally they can be represented as Cromwell flying kites for the junto in full knowledge that they might get watered down (but recognising someone needed to start negotiations). 

Personally, I think Cromwell's involving in freeing John Lilburne points more towards the latter, but whichever the interpretation you take it's clear Cromwell was only a minor player at this stage.

John Adamson is good on this in his chapter on Cromwell and the Long Parliament in John Morrill's "Oliver Cromwell and the Puritan Revolution".

A Short Q&A with Professor Ian Gentles.

Professor Ian Gentles is the author of a new biography of Oliver Cromwell. To compliment my review I asked him a few questions

Q. What made you write another biography of Cromwell?

A. I wrote this biography because the publisher invited me to.  In addition, I am fascinated by Oliver Cromwell, and believe that I understand the 'inner man’ better than most historians, especially his religion, which is of such key importance in understanding him. Finally, I believe I had some original information and insights to impart.  Through my research in the Close Rolls (NA, C 54) I turned up material on his personal finances of which no one else was aware.  I am also the first person to draw public attention to the "Fleetwood Chest", his wedding gift to his daughter Bridget, now held in the Collins Barracks Museum in Dublin.  I believe also that I have successfully interwoven his political and military careers and shown how they were interconnected, and influenced each other.

Q Are you aware that Prof john Morrill and his team are working on a new critical edition of the collected works of Oliver Cromwell.

A. Yes, I know about the forthcoming critical edition.  John Morrill is a good friend of mine, and we have discussed many aspects of Cromwell's life. The critical edition will be most welcome since WC Abbott's edition is unsatisfactory in many respects.

Q How do you see the current historiography on Oliver Cromwell

A.It is striking that new material on Cromwell is being turned up all the time.  In particular Patrick little has written about the Protectorate, as well as Cromwell's daughters' marriages, his interest in horses, and music, and his sense of humour.  Andrew Barclay has written a valuable study of Cromwell's early life, in which he has solved the puzzle of how Cromwell managed to get elected for the borough of Cambridge in 1640.  Both Little and Barclay have kindly shared with me their research findings in advance of publication.  Blair Worden is preparing a keenly-awaited intellectual biography of Cromwell.

Q What are you working on now.

A.This summer I am writing the biography of Col. Thomas Pride for the History of Parliament, and preparing a keynote address to the Midwest Conference on British Studies on the state of play in Civil War studies.  My longer-term project is a book on Ireland and England in the 16th and 17th centuries, with particular attention to the plantations of the 1650s.

Kate Chidley commented on http://keith-perspective.blogspot.co.uk/2010/08/on-katherine-chidley-1616-1653.html

I'd love to find that she was my ancestor ! you go.girl.l've read somewhere that she harangued Cromwell, saying they had promised all would be equal, but, quoting Orwell, some were more equal than others, i.e. men more equal than women. Is it possible to find pamphlets online? What a lady,

Reply

Thank you for the comment. Can you remember where you saw that she met Cromwell? I have just finished an article on Women Levellers and the English Revolution for the blog Hoydens and Firebrands which includes some stuff on Chidley.

If you like I can send you some stuff I have on her. It is true she was quite a lady and apparently one of many. Maybe you should do some research on whether she was a relative. Chidley does not strike me as a common name, where are you from.

Best Wishes

Keith Livesey

Newton commented on winstanley Review

I became excited by Winstanley et. al. through Hill's World Turned Upside Down in the 70s, about the time Kevin Brownlow was creating his movie. Much later, after Christopher Hill gave a talk (on Bunyan), I asked him about the Diggers from the sixties.

I noted, that Emmet Grogan's autobiography, Ringolevio mentions that they decided on calling their NYC group (transplanted to San Francisco) the Diggers after reading an English history book.

I asked what that the book would have been since WTUD came out after the Digger moment.

He smiled with delight to remind me, of course, that he had been writing about the Diggers at length at least since the edited collection of documents, The Good Old Cause, in 1949.   

Winstanley [DVD] [1975] Director Kevin Brownlow and Andrew Mollo

“We could certainly do with a new Winstanley to help today” Kevin Brownlow

“You poor take courage; you rich take care/This Earth was made a Common Treasury for everyone to share/All things in common, all people one “.Diggers Song.

Winstanley is the stunning 1975 film about the 17th-century revolutionary Digger Gerrard Winstanley. To begin with, anyone who is looking to view this movie should at least have a basic understanding of the English revolution. To get even more enjoyment out of the movie, they should acquaint themselves with the left-wing of that revolution the Diggers and to a lesser extent the Ranters.

The film has as one writer put It a “stark monochrome beauty” to it. The film style pays homage to the Russian filmmaker Sergei Eisenstein. The film was clearly a labour of love for Brownlow and Mollo with a large degree of perfection for detail and costume. Winstanley was produced on a minuscule budget £24,000 with a volunteer cast apart from one professional actor, first shown in 1975. This review is of the digital re-mastering carried out by the British Film Institute.

What was Brownlow’s inspiration from making this film? Like many people he had become disillusioned with the political set up (this was in 1975),” The Labour Party is no longer the Labour Party. Nor is the Conservative Party. You can hardly tell the difference. We are in a real mess. And I don’t know where we’re heading.”.

Why should anyone want to see this film and what relevance does it have today. Like under four hundred years ago we live in a time of wars, revolution and economic upheaval. Social inequality still exists, and democracy does not exist for millions of people. So in this respect, we are not so far away from the people who fought in the English Civil War.

According to the writer Marina Lewycka who worked on the film “ it is no coincidence that there should have been a renewed surge of interest in Winstanley and the Diggers in the 1960s and 1970s, at a time when the spirit of revolution was out on the streets, and latter-day Diggers were occupying campuses and squatting houses and apartment blocks. I was a starry-eyed young PhD student in 1970, researching radical thought in the 17th century. What drew me to Winstanley was not only his political radicalism but that he seemed to have a "psychological" understanding of the biblical narrative, unusual at that time, as an allegory of the struggle between good and evil which took place in every human heart”.

The director of Winstanley Kevin Brownlow like some people had not heard of his subject matter before starting work on the film. The fact that the movie is so good is, even more, testimony to him and co- director Andrew Mollo’s enthusiasm to learn about Winstanley and apply that learning with such startling effect.

Lewycka explains the ethics behind the making of the film “in some ways, the making of the movie Winstanley mirrored the endeavour of the original Diggers. It was an enterprise held together by a shared belief that commitment was more important than money, a lack of hierarchy that occasionally bordered on the anarchic, the spirit of voluntarism, good humour, camaraderie, stoicism in the face of setbacks, and a willingness to submit to the rigours of English dirt and English weather in pursuit of a higher purpose. Like Winstanley, we had our priorities straight. We knew that fame, fortune and ambition were not what it was about; what mattered was doing it properly”.

It is only recently that a systematic study of Winstanley has started to emerge. The recent publication of his collected works is one indication of the trend to restore Winstanley to his place as one of the most prominent figures of the English civil war.

He is certainly a figure that according to Christopher Hill who turned the world upside down.

His form of utopian communism was influenced by John Lilburne and his fellow Levellers. But in ideological terms, he went further than the Levellers in both actions and words.

The egalitarian nature of his philosophy was captured in his pamphlet “The New Law of Righteousness”, written in 1648. “Selfish imaginations”, he said had lead one man to rule over another. “But everyone shall put their hands to till the earth and bring up cattle, and the blessing of the earth shall be common to all,” “When a man hath need of any corn or cattle, take from the next store-house he meets with. There shall be no buying and selling, no fairs or markets, but the whole earth shall be the common Treasury for every man.”

Cromwell does not appear in the film which is a pity because along with Ireton he was the chief ideological opponent of the Levellers, Diggers and Ranters not Fairfax who does appear in the movie. Cromwell’s rebuke to Winstanley “What is the purport of the levelling principle but to make the tenant as liberal a fortune as the landlord. I was by birth a gentleman. You must cut these people in pieces, or they will cut you in pieces.”

Winstanley founded his commune of Diggers at St George’s Hill, Surrey. The film portrays with heartbreaking accuracy the tremendous poverty of the people belonging to the commune. Who also faced increasing violence at the hands of both New Model Army soldiers and the local population.

The commune was to last only two years. Within in that two years, other communities began to spring up, but these were eventually dissolved. In many ways, this was a movement way ahead of its time.

The film has mixed reviews which are a little harsh as Brownlow admits “No artist is ever satisfied. We did the best we could at the time. ”I wanted to be a professional director, making films with a social context here or in Hollywood, If I hadn’t made those first two features outside the industry, and taken a more regular route, I might have achieved that ambition. Money is essential in making films. If you get enough of it, it gives you time to make them properly – and time ensures quality. That’s why cheap pictures are usually so awful and why Hollywood spends hundreds of millions to achieve the standards of epics like Titanic.”

Winstanley is a superb film. See it if you can. More could have done to explore the ideological differences that occurred during the war. Perhaps in this one case more money would have helped. Having said that Winstanley is still a little gem.

Notes

(1) Kevin Brownlow’s Winstanley: Warts and All, 320 pages UKA Press (8 May 2009)ISBN- 1905796226

(2) The Complete Works of Gerrard Winstanley Hardcover Thomas N. Corns (Editor), Ann Hughes (Editor), David Loewenstein (Editor) OUP Oxford (24 Dec 2009)