In a particularly active, if sadly undocumented, period in the history of the English Church, Alexander, third bishop of Lincoln (1123–1148), stands out as a prelate of unusual energy and achievement. Beyond his intermittent involvement in national affairs, he was responsible in the twenty-five years of his episcopate for the establishment of at least nine prebends in the Lincoln chapter; the acquisition of substantial assets for his see—including the right of market and fair in two towns; the setting up of an additional and final, archdeaconry; extensive structural and decorative innovations at his cathedral; the founding of at least one leper hospital; the erection of two, and very probably three, castles; and the establishment of four religious houses. The last of the activities in this impressive curriculum, the founding of the Cistercian houses of Thame and Louth, the Arrouaisian house of Dorchester and the Gilbertine house of Haverholm, all in the brief period 1139–41, represents an achievement approached at that time only by the three foundations of bishop Warelwast of Exeter (1107–37) at Plympton, Launceston and Bodmin. If, moreover, Alexander was not the formal founder of the Gilbertine house of Sempringham some years earlier, it is at least clear that he played a decisive role there, as, indeed, there is good reason for supposing that he made a more positive and critical contribution to the early development of this, the only indigenous English monastic order, than has previously been allowed.

According to the Rule of St. Benedict the powers of an abbot, who stands in the place of Christ, are virtually absolute. It is true that the Rule has general injunctions for an abbot's good behaviour. He must always be mindful of the words of the apostle, ‘ye have received the spirit of the adoption of children, in which we cry Abba, Father’. He should study to be loved not feared, and the Rule states that he ‘should not harass the flock committed to him, nor exercise his power in an arbitrary, unjust way, but should always remember that for all his decisions and acts he must render account to God’. Nevertheless, there are no sanctions to enforce this code of conduct. In the abbot's hands lies the ultimate control of the administration. The Rule specifies that the abbot is to appoint the prior, and that the cellarer is bound by his commands.

Writing to Wolsey from Bergen op Zoom in 1527 the English ambassador described the Low Countries as being in grave peril from heresy, ‘for yf ther be tre men that speckes, the tweyn keppis Lutter ys openyon’: it was a pardonable exaggeration. Of Luther's immediate popularity in the Netherlands there can be no doubt. In taverns, private houses and on barges the religious issues of the day were hotly debated; from pulpits the new doctrines were championed or denounced, and in public places posters appeared pillorying the mendicants. The succession of placards forbidding the reading, sale or printing of Luther's writings and the increasingly severe penalties prescribed for attendance at conventicles, for harbouring apostate religious and, above all, for spreading heretical notions tell the same tale. Already by 1525 Luther had become a household name in the Netherlands and a new synonym for heretics ‘Luytrianen’ had entered common speech, displacing the older ‘Valdoysen ende Wijclevisten’.

As an episode in the history of Puritan ideas on liberty of conscience, the importance of the Whitehall Debates has long been acknowledged. Their publication at the end of the last century by Sir Charles Firth, who discovered them among the Clarke MSS., and their republication in the 1930s by A. S. P. Woodhouse, who made extensive additions to the original text, are evidence of their high regard. As Professor Woodhouse saw them, the Debates dealt with one of ‘the most significant issues of Puritan political thought:…the question of religious liberty’. Other historians have attributed even greater value to the Debates, acclaiming them as a major contribution to Puritan thought on this subject. W. K. Jordan, in his monumental study of religious toleration in England, hailed them as ‘momentous’; and, more recently, Christopher Hill has coupled them with the debates concerning James Nayler as ‘the two great set debates on religious toleration’ which survive from the revolutionary period. In view of this long-standing recognition, it is paradoxical that there exists no coherent and comprehensive discussion of the Debates: or rather, of the debate on 14 December 1648, this being the only day for which a detailed account survives. Although the arguments of various speakers have been summarised, no attempt has been made to offer an interpretation of the debate as a whole, on the grounds of the ‘confused and fragmentary’ state of the records.