This article examines the forces that shaped the responses of the urban commons to the Reformation in Augsburg. Developing work by Blickle and others, it considers the extent to which traditional communal ideals were reflected in measures to construct a system of ‘sacral corporatism’. An examination of the attitudes of guildsmen towards communal values and institutions shows variation in their views, even on such basic points as the identification and imposition of the ‘common good’. Case studies show how predominantly poor weavers were attracted to the call to enforce communal principles as a means of defending their status and incomes. To this end they welcomed evangelical teaching, for it provided scriptural and ethical endorsements of corporate action. In contrast, members of the butchers' guild, who were involved in a capital intensive occupation, resisted communal restraints on their freedom to trade and make profits. The butchers' opposition to the Reformation rested more on their rejection of ‘sacral corporatism’, as advocated by reformers in Augsburg, than on support for Catholicism. Augsburg shows the significance of communal values in the urban Reformation, but it demonstrates that these were neither static nor uniformly accepted. On the contrary they were themselves the subject of dispute.

From prison Sir Thomas Wyatt wrote a poem to Sir Francis Bryan, warning him to keep the secrets they shared. This article seeks to discover what the secrets were, and from whom they must be kept. The secrets concerned their lives as courtiers and ambassadors at times of great suspicion and insecurity at home and abroad, c. 1536–41. As diplomats, Wyatt and Bryan were charged to mediate between Henry VIII, Francis I, and Emperor Charles V, but they also had more sinister undercover missions. They were sent to spy upon, and even to assassinate the papal legate, Cardinal Pole. Poetry reveals much about these men which other sources cannot.

The new political theology of obedience to the prince which was enthusiastically adopted by the Church of England in the 1530s was essentially founded upon Luther's new interpretation of the fourth commandment. It was mediated to an English audience by Tyndale, but his ideas were not officially adopted as early as some recent research has suggested. The founding of royal authority on the Decalogue, and thus on the ‘word of God’, was a particularly attractive feature of this doctrine, which became almost the defining feature of Henrician religion. Rival tendencies within the Church of England sought to exploit it in the pursuit of their particular agendas. Reformers strove to preserve its connections with the broader framework of Lutheran theology, with the emphasis on faith alone and the ‘word of God’, while conservatives strove to relocate it within an essentially monastic tradition of obedience, with an emphasis on good works, ceremonies, and charity. The most significant achievement was that of the Reformers, who established and played upon an equivocation between the royal supremacy and the ‘word of God’ in order to persuade the king to sanction the publication of the Bible in English as a formidable prop for his new-found dignity.

Thomas Cranmer's register is important in shedding valuable shafts of light on the nature of the episcopal office in Tudor England. Despite the government's break with Rome in the 1530s, much of the archbishop's routine administration continued unaltered. Nonetheless, there were profound changes in Cranmer's role. Royal commissions, proclamations, injunctions, letters missive and acts of parliament all served to modify Cranmer's position as principal minister of the king's spiritual estate. When the crown issued a commission to the archbishop for the exercise of his jurisdiction, the prelate's position as a royal official was clear for all to see. It is sure, however, that the impact of Christian humanism and reformed theology also did much to shape Cranmer's work. The enforcement of the English Litany and, most notably, of the 42 Articles reveal the changing nature of the episcopal office at this time. In contrast to received orthodoxy, it is now clear that the bishops mounted a widespread campaign at the end of Edward VI's brief reign to secure use of this reformed formulary. There can be little doubt that Thomas Cranmer's years at Canterbury were of great significance in reshaping the role of the episcopate in early modern England.

The ‘puritan diary’ has received attention from historians and literary critics with little exchange between the approaches. Placing the diary in the context of experimental Calvinist personal discipline reveals that the form emerged independently of the literature of practical divinity. Considering the practice as a ‘technology of the self’ draws attention to the meanings of writing in a protestant context and encourages us to consider the cultural resources available to early modern protestants. Close reading of these texts suggests a greater degree of complexity than is often admitted and allows for a tension between different views of the salvific process. This tension between ‘open’ and ‘closed’ forms is helpful in understanding the religiosity of early modern protestants.

In February 1610, the English chargé d'affaires reported that Henry IV of France, having decided to go to war in the Spanish Netherlands, had lately been measured for a new suit of armour, and had also displayed in his chamber a table or tableau, ‘wherein is paynted a man fleeing from Venus and the image of gaming, and following Hercules after two other images, of hope and fortune, with these verses: I go to the temple of virtue, hope and fortune precede me; farewell damned pleasure.’ This piece of visual propaganda encoded a variant of the Choice of Hercules, which appealed to the king's lifelong self-construct as heroic warrior. We trace the complex history of his heroic self-fashioning, showing how Henry IV after 1598 compensated for the absence of war through the hunt, gambling, and sexual domination. The dissonance between what Henry IV perceived himself to be and what he feared by 1610 he had become makes it easier to understand what drove him to his appointment in the rue de la Ferronerie.

This essay maintains that John Foxe has been under-utilized as a source of early modern English social history. Accordingly, the mid-Tudor portions of the Acts and monuments of Foxe are examined with reference to such topics as the size of early modern families, the roles of spouses within marriage, the status of romantic love and marriage, and the treatment of children. In addition to these familiar categories, however, the essay also asks whether the protestant community of the Marian era was forming a coherent vision of the family as part of its strategy of survival, and whether the catholic authorities were aware of this and attempted to thwart its development. The possibility of a connection between the protestant emphasis on rediscovering the heart of the Christian gospel and a renewed emphasis on the biblical vision of family is raised, together with a discussion of the English reformers' concern that families not serve as hindrances in the advancement of the kingdom of God at that critical juncture in the life of the nation.

In the period 1520–50 there was a large English community in the Veneto. This has traditionally been associated with the household of Reginald Pole, who is believed to have dispensed learning and patronage to those who went to the University of Padua in search of a continental education. However, an examination of both primary and secondary sources for the life of Pole suggests that he was only one of a number of reference points for young English scholars and travellers. Of equal, and perhaps greater, importance was the household of Edmund Harvell, a merchant who became English ambassador to the Republic. His household was philo-protestant in tone, and linked to Venetian dissenters and literary circles. These two central figures presented English scholars with the chance to experience the varying strands of Venetian political and religious philosophy at a time of great intellectual vitality. Men such as Richard Morison and Thomas Starkey returned home to write books about English government and society. When their work is set against the Venetian milieu of Harvell and Pole, we can gain a greater understanding of those Venetian influences which underpinned English political thought in the Tudor period and beyond.

Recent works by Kevin Sharpe and Julian Davies have revised thinking about the religious policies of the Caroline church. Davies's distinction between ‘Laudianism’ and ‘Carolinism’ sums up one of the major conclusions he shares with Sharpe; that Charles I was the initiator of many of the religious policies previously attributed to William Laud. The following article tests this conclusion by viewing the religious policies emanating from England through the eyes of James Ussher, the Irish archbishop of Armagh. It finds that, from the Irish perspective at least, it was impossible for a contemporary to make the same distinction between ‘Laudianism’ and ‘Carolinism’, about policies that were deeply unpopular across the Irish Sea. What follows is an examination of Ussher's reception of a range of policies he considered detrimental to Calvinist unity in the face of catholic threat, including a detailed examination of his attempts to save the Calvinist Irish Articles. Through consideration of his own patronage concerns and directions in publishing it is demonstrated here that, through the 1630s, the Irish protestant primate continued to believe (rightly or wrongly) that behind the religious tensions of Britain lay the dual spectre of ‘Arminianism’ and popery.

This article is an analysis of the hysterical debates in the house of commons over the 1753 Marriage Act, placed in the context of the failure of existing marriage law to prevent clandestine marriage and bigamy, and the crucial importance of the marriage market for the male propertied elite. It shows that the proponents of the act appealed strongly to the patriarchal and material instincts of the majority in the Commons, while its principal opponents, who claimed to stand for affective marriage and championed the interests of women, actually represented the exploitative marital and sexual behaviour typical of many Georgian men. The article concludes that the passage of the Marriage Act in these circumstances absolutely contradicts some historians' theories about the progress of ‘affective individualism’ among the elite, and implies rather the continuance of patriarchy and the use of marriage for economic and political advantage.

The period from 1550 to 1640 saw a tremendous rise in the amount of litigation initiated in England. Although the pattern of this great expansion is known, its social meaning is not yet clear. Litigation has, paradoxically, been interpreted as both the barometer of a breakdown in social relations, or alternatively as a functional means of dispute settlement. Here this problem will be addressed by placing the initiation of litigation within the context of the social practices and events which led to disputes, and also by looking at how contemporaries reacted to, and interpreted these events, both publicly and privately. Most litigation arose out of economic disputes concerning credit and contracts, and this was a result of the growth of marketing in the period. Such disputes were seen as threatening to the social order, and were something which contemporaries took very seriously. The primary means of dealing with disputes was to attempt to initiate a community negotiated Christian reconciliation between the disputing parties in order to maintain social peace and concord. But as the market grew more complex, and disputes became more difficult to resolve, increasingly the authority of the law had to be invoked. This in turn led to the development of a more pessimistic language of social relations which stressed that any form of positive sociability could only be maintained under an institutional umbrella created by the threat of authority. As a result, community relations and reconciliation, although still defined in terms of Christian love and charity, came to be seen as more functional than normative because of the massive interjection of the civil law into day to day life.

This article questions the assumption that the earl of Cork was at the forefront of the attack on the earl of Strafford in England. It is argued that, before the opening of the Long Parliament, Cork had much to gain by securing Strafford's favour because of his continuing need to secure his Irish estates and his increasing social ambitions within the English court. The earl's decision to stand as witness against the lord lieutenant in 1641 was made with great reluctance, and the trial itself was fraught with unexpected dangers for Cork as well as Strafford. Throughout the crisis of 1638–41, the earl of Cork was motivated by political and financial concerns, not by a single-minded hatred of the earl of Strafford.

The paper considers reactions to William III's Declaration of reasons, the manifesto issued by the prince of Orange on the eve of his invasion of England in 1688. It questions recent historiography, which has argued for the importance of this document in William's success by claiming that it achieved a virtual hegemony of English political discourse in the period of the Glorious Revolution. The paper first shows that James II's supporters mounted an effective challenge to the Orange Declaration by reversing its claim that liberties were in danger under the existing regime. It then suggests that William lost control of his manifesto over the winter of 1688–9 by making moves to secure power and authority which were unadvertised in the document. Once this had happened, various groups opposed to Orange ambition were able to adopt the rhetoric of the Declaration and quote it back at the prince in attempts to block his advance. The paper concludes with the irony that the ubiquity of the Declaration in 1688 may have been a result of its failure as publicity for the Orange cause; and by suggesting that scholars should look in places other than the manifesto for an effective Williamite propaganda.

This article presents new and conclusive evidence to resolve the long-running controversy over whether the loyalist association movement of 1792 was spontaneous or was crafted by government. It shows that Pitt and his colleagues did not know in advance of John Reeves's proposals for the Crown and Anchor association before they were published on 23 November and it suggests who Reeves's original collaborators probably were. It then goes on to show how Pitt and his cousin, Lord Grenville, confronted with many demands and proposals for associations at this time, quickly seized upon the Reeves project as the most adaptable to their own ends and produced a new draft, redefining his proposals in the directions they were prepared to see such a movement take. This they induced Reeves to publish as a second declaration on 26 November and they went on to promote as the example and inspiration for a wider association movement.

In the late eighteenth century, the British electorate began thinking about politics and statecraft in a new way. Britons challenged the natural rights of the nation's aristocracy to rule, and actively linked the personal behaviour of individual noblemen and women to real or imagined public consequences. Aristocratic gaming provided Britons with a rich vocabulary for voicing such concerns. The noble gamester, perceived as erratic, self-interested, and without honour, personified those aspects of private aristocratic vice most likely to undermine national well-being. The 1784 Westminster election specifies two aspects of this controversy. The political unworthiness of notorious gamester Charles James Fox (a front-runner in the election) was linked early on to his personal financial mismanagement, which intimated, in the public mind, his potential abuse of public funds. Fox further contaminated his suitability for public office by allowing the fifth duchess of Devonshire, herself a gamestress, to canvass for him. Her presence in Westminster not only dramatized Fox's gamester persona, but effeminized it. Pittite propaganda stressed Fox's culpability on both counts, and emphasized a new concern with private virtue as fundamental to the moral prerogative to rule.

The identity of eighteenth-century North Britons needs to be disaggregated: there were significant variations in North British attitudes to the Anglo-Scottish relationship in areas such as politics, economics, language, religion and manners. In the first-order spheres of politics and economics North Britons generally subscribed to an Anglo-British identity and tended to welcome anglicization of Scotland's feudal institutions and laws as an acceleration along the pathway of modernization. Although this crucial aspect of North British identity became widespread only from the 1730s its roots can be traced back to the sophisticated debates which had preceded Scottish agreement to incorporating Union. This adherence to an Anglo-British form of patriotism was a common feature of political discourse in the eighteenth-century British Atlantic world. North British patriotism also shared another prominent characteristic with Anglo-Irish and American identities. The aspiration to share English liberties to the full, when thwarted, could trigger anglophobic responses, as occurred in America in the 1760s and 70s, and in the Irish constitutional revolution of 1780–2. Among North Britons, a coherent Anglo-British ideology of improvement co-existed with a traditional Scottish chauvinism, which was normally dormant, but whose occasional eruptions tended to be provoked by perceived exclusions of North Britons from the liberties of Englishmen.

Before 1689 parliament met relatively infrequently and unpredictably, passing limited amounts of legislation. After that date parliament met annually and enacted a significantly enhanced volume of legislation. By relating attempts to legislate to patterns of acts this transformation is explored at a very general level. Some explanations are advanced, largely by examining institutional arrangements and the subject matter of legislation. Finally, some general observations on the significance of this ‘revolution in parliament’ are advanced.

Pietro Giannone was a revolutionary thinker who sought in the early decades of the eighteenth century to free Italy from the inveterate, legally entrenched feudal power of the church and then to free Christianity itself from the stifling and corrupting embrace of the political church. This essay tells the improbable story of how his writings were taken up and disseminated in Britain by the non-juring bishop and antiquary Richard Rawlinson, the learned but morally unsound Scottish journalist Archibald Bower, and an odd crew of Jacobites. It is shown that the translations of Giannone got into some very influential hands and represent part of an undervalued Jacobite contribution to the origins of the Scottish Enlightenment and to the thought of Edward Gibbon.

The essay examines the forced resignation of the duke of York as commander-in-chief of the British army in 1809 as a case study in the complexities of patriotism during the Napoleonic war. The recent work of Linda Colley and others has emphasized the conservative use of wartime patriotism as a means of defending the established political order in general and royalty in particular. But the parliamentary and outdoor pressure that prompted the duke to step down in response to suspicions that he had permitted his mistress to trqffick in army commissions indicates that staunch supporters as well as critics of the status quo did not hesitate to invoke patriotism as a means of criticizing royalty when it was thought to have neglected its duty to set a good moral example to the nation. There is no question that a large majority of the duke's critics felt that royalty was integral to what they believed was Britain's uniquely privileged position in the world. But the York affair suggests that a great many ‘patriotic’ Britons felt that the royal family had to be protected from its own occasional indiscretions as well as from the Napoleonic peril.

Much recent historiography has adopted a revisionist approach to Habsburg policy in restoration Italy, jettisoning the ‘black legend’ which long surrounded Austrian rule of Lombardy-Venetia. Nevertheless the Habsburg police still tend to be portrayed as essentially repressive, constantly preoccupied with the threat of revolution. This case study of the police in the Venetian provinces during the reign of Francis I challenges such a view. It looks first at the problem of establishing forces of law and order in the aftermath of Napoleonic rule, demonstrating how under-funding conservatism and a desire for uniformity with the rest of the empire meant that the Venetian constabulary was often ill-suitedfor the prevention of crime. Then follows an examination of the part played by the police in the administrative machine. This emphasises a number of roles performed by higher-ranking police officials and the secret police, and suggests their major concerns were not merely with the threat of revolution, but with gathering information essential for efficient government, and with maintaining a watchful eye over other branches of the bureaucracy. These in turn contributed considerably to the efficiency of Habsburg rule and the remarkable political passivity of the Venetian provinces in this era.