The Materiality of Early Modern Political Texts - 2

In my last blogpost, I noted the point made by one participant at our Experiencing Political Texts workshop in York, that the correspondence of early modern men and women has been viewed differently. Whereas that of men who participated in politics has been read as a political text, that of women (even powerful and influential women) is often dismissed as gossip. That observation led me to ponder what makes a text political. Katie East addressed this point explicitly in her paper at the second part of our workshop on the materiality of texts, which took place on 28 March 2023. This is one of three themes that I want to explore here that arose out of the papers delivered on that day. The other two are the methods used by early modern authors to control or delimit the meaning of their text, and the survival of ephemeral texts.

Painting of Cicero denouncing Catiline and his conspiracy. Taken from Wikimedia Commons.

As Katie made clear, the political nature of a text is determined by several factors. Conventionally emphasis is placed on the content of the work and the intention of the author as well as the interventions of editors, commentators, or translators. Yet, as she explained, two other factors also play a critical role. First, the context(s) in which the work is written, printed, and read, and secondly the materiality of the text itself. Both Katie's paper and those that followed offered several illustrations of how context and materiality can enhance a text's political character.

Katie's paper focused on accounts of the Catiline conspiracy in ancient Rome that were published during the early modern period. She demonstrated how that story was given a new political edge: both during the Jacobite uprisings of the early eighteenth century, and in the chaos generated by the financial collapse of the South Sea Company. In her paper, Alex Plane showed how works that might be deemed apolitical in one context, could take on a political meaning in another. This was the case with the works on duelling held in the library of James VI and I. James was keen to establish his reputation as a peacemaker, yet this was undermined if members of the nobility were killing each other in duels rather than settling their issues via formal legal means. Duelling became a political matter, therefore, so too did the possession of books about it.

Sketch of Thomas Spence’s profile. Taken from the Hedley Papers at the Newcastle Literary and Philosophical Society. Reproduced with the permission of the Society.

Explicitly political works could also have their political edge heightened by being read in new contexts. Harriet Gray demonstrated this with reference to Thomas Spence's political works. Though Spence died in 1814, members of the Newcastle Literary and Philosophical Society felt the need to distance themselves from his ideas in 1817 due to both the campaign against the Society of Spencean Philanthropists in London and the activities of their own librarian John Marshall, who showed marked sympathy for Spencean ideas.

Titlepage from Thomas Gordon’s edition of Sallust. Taken from Eighteenth-Century Collections Online.

Perhaps more surprising are the ways in which the materiality of a text could render it more or less political. Katie showed how even just the title page could emphasise or de-emphasise the political nature of Cicero's speeches on the Catiline conspiracy - or be used to encourage a particular reading of them. The seventeenth and eighteenth centuries witnessed various accounts of the conspiracy, including both those that used it to call for loyalty to the existing (monarchical) regime and those that adopted a republican reading. The addition of paratextual material such as dedications and, in the case of Thomas Gordon's translation of Sallust's historical account, overtly 'political' discourses on the text, could further heighten its political character and/or a specific interpretation. Even the layout of the text on the page could contribute to this. Gordon deliberately adopted a clean, classical, layout to push his political message. This was in contrast to the busier appearance of scholarly editions which encouraged a more contemplative reading.

Page from John Spittlehouse’s pamphlet The Royall Advocate which includes the marginal note ‘Jesus Christ was no Quaker’. Taken from Early English Books Online.

Leanne Smith furthered our consideration of page layout by showing how the Fifth Monarchist John Spittlehouse deliberately used the white space at the edges of a page to draw the attention of his readers to key passages and to direct their understanding. His pointed comments in the margin alongside his account of Oliver Cromwell's speech to Parliament on 4 September 1654 encouraged readers to question Cromwell's actions and motives. While comments in the margin of The Royall Advocate such as 'Jesus Christ was no Quaker' sought to turn his readers against that radical sect.

The page from The True Patriot’s Speech at Rome which gives the false imprint. Taken from Early English Books Online.

Finally, Joe Hone showed us how even something as apparently innocuous as the imprint could enhance the political character of a text. His paper focused on the short pamphlet The True Patriot's Speech to the People of Rome. Though printed in London in 1708, the imprint read 'Amsterdam, 1656'. Joe argued that 'Amsterdam' was used repeatedly around this time as shorthand to indicate the republican or anti-monarchical content or implications of certain texts. In this sense it was not a way of avoiding censorship (as might be thought) but rather a declaration of allegiance. Similarly, dating the pamphlet '1656' suggested its relevance to the period of the English republic, and encouraged the audience to read it as a counterpart to key republican texts such as James Harrington's The Commonwealth of Oceana and Marchamont Nedham's The Excellencie of a Free State, both of which appeared that year.

Ben Jonson’s poem ‘To Groom Idiot’ taken from https://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/jonson/groomidiot.htm

We have already seen, with reference to Leanne's paper, how the materiality of the text could be used to encourage a particular political reading of it. This point was explored from a different perspective in Ruth Connolly's discussion. Ruth showed how Ben Jonson made careful use of punctuation to contain and control the meaning of his works. First, he made clear his expectation of readers in his poem 'To Groom Idiot', which criticises the eponymous recipient of the poem for failing to understand the punctuation of his works and for laughing in the wrong places. By this means Jonson created expectations as to how his works should be read. Secondly, Ruth used several specific examples to illustrate how a subtle change in punctuation - for example from a colon to a question mark - could alter the meaning of the text - and even how in a letter to Cecil from 1605 a colon was used to imply a meaning that was not explicit in the written words. Despite being very different kinds of writers, both Jonson and Spittlehouse used technical features of their texts to direct the reader's response. This is, of course, something we also see being used much more systematically in the elaborate bindings produced by Thomas Hollis for the works he disseminated, and in the marginal notes he added to those texts, which I explored in a previous blogpost.

The copy of Thomas Spence’s lecture held among the Hedley Papers at the Newcastle Literary and Philosophical Society. Reproduced with the permission of the Society.

Finally, having been prompted by the papers delivered at York to think about the ephemerality versus the durability of early modern texts, I was interested to hear in the final panel about examples of ephemeral texts surviving under what might seem strange circumstances. Alex Plane explained that there is in James VI and I's Library an edict against duelling issued by Louis XIII of France in 1613. This is exceptionally rare - indeed it appears to be the only surviving copy. Its presence in James's library is probably due to Henry Howard, who was commissioned by James to write a work for him that was critical of duelling. To prepare for this task, Howard produced a common place book on the subject, and probably collected the edict as part of an information gathering trip to France. In her paper Harriet Gray reported that ephemeral material relating to Thomas Spence and John Marshall (including the only extant copy of Spence's original lecture 'Property in Land Everyone's Right' and Marshall's Newcastle Swineheard's Proclamation) can be found among the papers of the Newcastle Literary and Philosophical Society. Their survival is due to the concern among members to distance the Society from both Spence and Marshall, it is even possible that placing the texts in the collection was more about hiding them than preserving them (or at least about controlling the context in which they were read). They were not easy to locate or access  - as reflected in the fact that the Spence pamphlet was only discovered in 2005.

In my reflections on the first part of our workshop, I suggested that it had enhanced my understanding of how political works were produced and read in the early modern period. The second part deepened this, not least in encouraging me to think more about early modern cultures of reading and writing. Both Jonson and Spittlehouse took great care to guide their readers. Alex's description of James taking his courtiers on what were effectively writing retreats and having them surround him at dinner to discuss recently published pamphlets and draft responses to them, suggests a different kind of reading and writing culture from the image of an author sitting at a desk scribbling in the margins. Do we also, then, need to think again about our own cultures of reading and writing? What do readers need to know in order to properly to understand modern political texts?

Fifty Years of the World Turned Upside Down

Is what I am doing worthwhile? How can I make a difference? I often ask myself these questions. They feel especially pressing in the midst of the current cost of living crisis, in the face of impending environmental disaster, and in a situation of growing inequality both within Britain and between us and the global south. In this context, writing books and articles on obscure early modern figures and their ideas - and teaching classes to students who are relatively privileged - can feel self-indulgent. It was, therefore, reassuring to learn from Penny Corfield, at a recent conference to celebrate 50 years since the publication of The World Turned Upside Down, that the eminent early modern historian Christopher Hill was troubled by these questions too. Like me, Hill was no doubt partly prompted by the inspiring phrase from Gerrard Winstanley, which I have quoted before in this blog: 'action is the life of all, and if though dost not act, though dost nothing' (Gerrard Winstanley, A Watch-Word to the City of London and the Armie, London, 1649).

The programme for the conference, which was expertly organised by Waseem Ahmed in conjunction with John Rees.

In his excellent paper on Hill's life and thought, which marked the culmination of the conference, Mike Braddick explained that as a young man in the 1930s Hill was already 'thinking like a Marxist' but did not yet know what to 'do'. Of course, he soon found his role. As Mike explained, writing history was Hill's contribution. As one obituary of him noted, Hill was 'an historian's historian' and yet works like The World Turned Upside Down spoke not just to academics, but also to ordinary people. Moreover, as Ann Hughes explained in her paper, Hill also reached out in many different ways to a wider public through his involvement with organisations such as the Workers' Educational Association, the Open University, and the BBC. I was bemused to learn that Hill's piece 'James Harrington and the People' was originally written for radio. Oh if only someone would commission a radio programme on Harrington today! Similarly John Rees reported, on the basis of his own experience, that Hill was always happy to be associated with the organised left and gave inspiring speeches to large crowds.

There is an interesting parallel between Hill's commitment to venture beyond academia, presenting his historical research (and that of others) to the general public, and the subject matter of The World Turned Upside Down. That book took seriously the ideas of ordinary people. Its protagonists are not the 'great' thinkers of the seventeenth century but rather the ordinary people (some of them very humble indeed) who were caught up in events. Hill was interested in ideas that inspire practical political action, regardless of the social status or level of education of those who voiced those ideas and took that action.

A poster advertising the film Winstanley about the Digger movement, one of the key groups to feature in Christopher Hill’s The World Turned Upside Down. Author’s own copy.

This focus was reflected in several of the papers at the conference, including papers that dealt with figures who feature in The World Turned Upside Down and papers on those who perhaps should have done, but do not. It was apt to have Ariel Hessayon talking about the Ranters and Bernard Capp to say something about the Fifth Monarchists. Ariel contextualised Hill's account of the Ranters in The World Turned Upside Down and emphasised the fact that the strength of Hill's book lay in making these rather obscure figures visible. He also noted that Hill came to the Ranters quite late. Capp extended this point, acknowledging that the radicals are not prominent in many of Hill's earlier works such as The English Revolution 1640 and The Century of Revolution (though this partly reflects the nature of those publications). Capp also suggested that the Fifth Monarchists and Muggletonians ranked lower in Hill's estimations than the Ranters and the Diggers, not least because their ideas did not all sit comfortably with his understanding of radicalism.

Author’s copy of Hill’s book showing the tub-thumping preacher on the cover.

Several speakers made the case for particular individuals to be considered as radicals. Jackie Eales's paper focused on the radical preacher James Hunt of Sevenoaks, who does not appear in The World Turned Upside Down despite probably being the tub-thumping preacher on the cover of the original edition. Jason Peacey argued the case for George Wither and asked the thought-provoking question: How would our view of radicalism change if Wither were taken more seriously? Ed Legon's paper focused on individuals even more obscure than Hunt and Wither, textile workers-cum preachers such as one Thomas Moore, 'Dingle', and others for whom we do not even have a name. The link between textile workers and radical puritanism has long been recognised, if not fully explored, but other speakers found radicals in even more unexpected places. Will White made the case for the neutral Francis Nethersole as a radical of sorts. He pointed out that refusing to take sides was itself a political act, which might lead to disobedience and required considerable courage. He also noted the similarities between ideas put forward by Nethersole to justify his neutrality and those expressed by the Leveller William Walwyn in The Bloody Project. The fluidity implicit in Walwyn's position (and acknowledged by Hill) was also reflected in the activities of another Leveller, Captain William Bray, who was the subject of Ted Vallance's paper. Ted showed how Bray haunted the boundary between the Levellers and the Ranters. In part, this fluidity stems from thought being geared to political action, since engaging in politics (rather than merely contemplating it) may require pragmatism: deploying different arguments for different audiences; rearranging priorities in response to events; and even setting aside key principles at certain moments.

The image of the world turned upside down from the pamphlet of the same name.

This leads to another point that was reflected in both Hill's life and his work. The importance of free and open debate, and even the possibility that ideas might be changed through it. As Ann, John and Mike all noted, Hill experienced this himself in the debates in which he engaged as a member of the Communist Party Historians’ Group between the late 1930s and 1957. The idea of open debate was also reflected in papers that themselves turned conventional interpretations upside down. For example, Richard Bell showed that the interest of key Levellers in prisons was not a case of them bringing political consciousness to prisoners, but rather of the Levellers tapping into a long-standing campaign for prison reform. Similarly, Laura Stewart made a convincing case for the notion of a Scottish Revolution, emphasising the need for it to be understood on its own terms.

Laura's paper was one of many that either ventured beyond Hill's field of enquiry or even challenged key aspects of his thought. As Penny Corfield made clear, Hill would have enjoyed and appreciated the debate. He welcomed respectful disagreement on the grounds that thinking could be advanced in the process. As Mike explained, the members of the Communist Party Historians’ Group were not aiming to impose an orthodox view of the English Revolution but rather engaged in lengthy, deep and open discussion to try to work out the relevance of Marxist theory for English history. For Hill it was important that ideas were debated and kept in use.

Sketch of the bust of Thomas Spence. From the collection of the Literary and Philosophical Society of Newcastle upon Tyne. Hedley Papers. Reproduced with kind permission. With thanks to Harriet Gray.

The conference papers and discussions certainly inspired me, helping me better to understand and articulate the meaning of my own life and work. I too am committed to analysing not simply the ideas of great political thinkers of the past, but also those of ordinary people caught up in events. My PhD research examined the ideas of relatively humble French revolutionaries who were members of the Cordeliers Club, and considered the ways in which they adapted English republican ideas to their own situation. In my current research I am exploring how reformers and radicals in late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century Britain articulated their arguments. In this regard, the Newcastle-born radical Thomas Spence is of particular relevance. Despite being from a very humble background, Spence developed innovative political ideas of his own and believed strongly in the value of providing political education to all members of society, regardless of their wealth or social status.

At the same time, I am committed to engaging with audiences beyond academia. I have been involved with a number of exciting projects alongside our excellent educational outreach team from Newcastle University's Robinson Library and staff at the National Civil War Centre. Our current project involves working with Year 12 students on oracy and debate. Meanwhile, the Experiencing Political Texts project (https://experiencingpoliticaltexts.wordpress.com) has provided an opportunity to work with members of the public in a regular reading group where discussions are always thought-provoking. We will develop this further as we put together two exhibitions, one at the Robinson Library, Newcastle University this summer and another at the National Library of Scotland, opening in December. Finally, this blog has provided a valuable opportunity to share my research with a wider audience, but also to reflect on the implications of the ideas of the past today. I can only dream of producing a book like The World Turned Upside Down, but by taking seriously the ideas of all people - including those who have so often been silenced - perhaps I can make a small contribution and heed Winstanley's injunction to 'act'.