The English social crisis in the seventeenth century unites within it the traits of the German Reformation of the sixteenth century and those of the French Revolution of the eighteenth-century. In the person of Cromwell, Luther clasps hands with Robespierre.
~Leon Trotsky1
Puritanism, a minority tendency in the episcopal Church of England, began to develop during the Protestant reign of Edward VI, Henry VIII’s underage son. Unlike on the Continent, where Luther, Zwingli, and Calvin had large followings, Henry’s Reformation in England was a top-down affair by the government, “an act of state,” which subordinated the Church to the lay authorities, many of whom would come to support Puritan ministers.2 At the same time, there was a considerable amount of anti-Church sentiment, religious and secular. The lower classes had inherited ideas from John Wycliffe (1320-1384) and the Lollards (an early 15th century religious reform movement);3 and much of the aristocracy and merchant classes were happy to expropriate the Church’s lands and wealth. Confession, penance, absolution and indulgences were abolished, but in most other respects Church practices changed little under Henry. Services were still conducted in Latin, fasting at Lent was still enforced, and Protestant martyrs who denied the Real Presence of Christ in the bread and wine (transubstantiation) were still burnt at the stake as heretics. Only now, Catholics who denied the king was head of the Church were executed for treason as well.4
The religion of the early sixteenth century had presented man with a church, a hierarchy, a clergy, a ritual, a dogma which came from God to him as a requirement. Man was to accept it for what it was, and to obey it in what it demanded. …all class relations supposedly originated in their reflection of the heavenly hierarchy. … To question, to desire change, was to commit the sin of Lucifer and to receive the doom of Sisyphus.5
Ritual in the church corresponded to ritual in the state with the same stultifying effects to which Puritans objected.6 Elizabeth’s religious settlement was still a largely conservative compromise between Catholic ostentation, superstition and hierarchy, and Protestant simplicity, rationality and individualism. Puritans who wanted the Church reformation to go further attempted to “set up ‘a discipline in a discipline, presbytery in episcopacy.’”7 Their
accommodation to the official religious policy was external and essentially civic — which indeed, as Elizabeth said, was the full extent of the legal requirement. … The Queen cared not what men thought about doctrine on the Church. Men’s consciences, she said, were their own. She cared only for what they did.8
Nonetheless, in 1577, she went over the heads of her Privy Council and archbishop to suppress “prophesyings” — public discussion classes among clergy attended by laymen.9 The English Protestant Book of Common Prayer “remained the most elaborate liturgy of any Reformed [Calvinist] Church in Europe.”10 It had been adapted from the book of Catholic mass by Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop under Henry VIII and Edward VI,11 (later burned at the stake by Mary Tudor). While Catholics were now forced to worship in private, the Church of England still retained much of its inheritance from Rome. It was still ruled by a religious hierarchy under the bishops, complete with a judicial church structure which inflicted penalties for sinful living and noncompliance.
Ecclesiastical courts enforced church attendance, Sabbath observance, the payment of tithes and sexual morality. … Sabbath-breaking was a common offense. People skipped church, and shopkeepers and alehouse-keepers were cited for doing business on Sunday… There are many presentments for misbehaviour in church: drunkenness, brawling, gossiping, vomiting, scoffing at the minister, pissing in another man’s hat… Sex offences were common: fornication, adultery, bastard children, cross-dressing, lewd talk.12
For Puritans, a “‘watered-down Protestantism’” was no better than a “‘watered-down Catholicism.’”13 They were ever mindful of the dangers posed by the Catholic monarchies of Spain and France, and behind them the Anti-Christ sitting in the Vatican; they therefore pressed for a thoroughgoing reform of the English Church to make it fully compliant with Protestant precepts. There was, they argued, nothing in Scripture about popes or saints’ days; therefore these were works of man, not God.14 This subversive view of social life was captured in a 14th century rhyme still current: “When Adam delved and Eve span / Who was then the gentleman?” While all Protestants looked to the Bible for definitive religious guidance, many Puritan divines focused on Scripture alone as the word of God. “To a large extent the Puritans were distinguished from other Protestants by differences of degree rather than of kind.”15 At bottom, Puritans were simply orthodox or consistent Protestants.
“Puritan” was nonetheless an ambiguous term. No single manifesto or codified set of principles existed. Rather, Puritans occupied a spectrum of opinions derived initially from Luther, but most heavily from the Reformed teachings of the more radical Frenchman, John Calvin. Calvin, unlike Luther, rejected transubstantiation.16 Other influences came from German, Swiss or Dutch theologians.17 Puritanism was, in practice if not in name, pluralist,18 and there was a great deal of theological debate at the highest levels within it. This was not so obvious at the time, however, in the face of the struggle with anti-Calvinists. When James I came to the throne in 1603, his main ambition was to isolate Puritan extremists by downplaying differences and winning moderates to accept a tranquil conformity.19 “To each, James offered not toleration but tolerance,”20 provided they didn’t cause trouble.
As is often the case, “Puritan” originated as a term of opprobrium by their opponents, and militant Protestants often rejected the label while still adhering to some version of a Calvinist outlook. “John Pym, during the parliament of 1621, attacked ‘that odious and factious name of Puritans…’” The term could be deliberately misused to sully the arguments or reputations of political enemies.21 But during the 22-year reign of James I it commonly meant anyone within the Church of England who wished to reform it, “… as contrasted with separatists on the one hand, and those who were satisfied with the established discipline on the other.”22
Given the competing tendencies within the Church, a result of the compromise Elizabethan settlement, such contemporary distinctions depended very much on the point of view of the writer or speaker. “Most of the basic theological and ecclesiological divisions that would show themselves with a vengeance in the later 1640s were already present in embryo within the puritan community prior to 1640.”23 At this early date these multifarious differences are not of much concern here, but as the revolutionary period approaches this will change, and the more set internal divisions within Puritanism will become quite important.24
People of all classes who identified with Puritanism could hold or advocate a wide span of views, which not infrequently changed with events.
Puritanism embraced such divergent religious alignments as the moderate Episcopalians, the Presbyterians, the Independents, and the Particular Baptists. Politically Puritanism embraced advocates of a limited monarchy, of responsible parliamentary government, of unlimited rule by parliament, and of recurrent revolution. … What the advocates of these many ideas had in common made it possible for them to unite in revolution. But, the divergent lines of development which each group had taken since their common beginnings made it impossible for them to unite in creating a Puritan regime in England.25
It was no more possible to have a uniformly Puritan regime than it was to have a purely Puritan revolution. The different tendencies reflected different conceptions of how a new society should operate, in line with differing economic interests.
Until the revised King James translation of 1611, it was the Geneva Bible, complete with Calvinist marginal annotations, that predominated in England.26 Though “Puritan” began as a religious designation, their active opposition to the policies and authority of the Church’s Episcopal hierarchy, including its head, the queen, quickly gave it political overtones.27 In 1572 they appealed to Parliament as the representative of the people for reforms. Since Parliament’s Act of Supremacy had created the Church in 1534, Parliament in theory had the power to change it. Puritans thus allied with the “constitutional” opposition to limit the power of the monarch. Elizabeth struck back with prerogative powers to suppress and drive them underground for a time.28
What began as an attempt to reform the Church was deflected by the historical situation into a contest for the right and the authority to make such reforms. This in turn led to a century-long debate over the grounds for claiming such a right, and over who in England had such right and authority.29
Protestantism taught that it was not what men did that made them righteous, but how they did it: with a devoted heart, and not mechanically for outward show. “A good man made a good work, not a good work a good man.”30 Given a mostly illiterate population, Puritans emphasized preaching, endorsed by both Luther and Calvin, over prayer and ritual;31 hence the struggle to control the pulpits. Many also opposed the much-hated collection of tithes.
Before the 1630s, most Puritans sought to reform the Church of England from within; only a very small number broke completely to become separatist sects.32 Preaching took precedence above all else; “it was the duty of a minister to conform [to Church practices] rather than be silenced,” a theologian maintained in 1605, and even King James endorsed it early on, provided what they preached was acceptable to him.33 The large majority of Puritans thus remained, often uncomfortably, in the official Church, outwardly conforming to its dictates. But it thereby brought Puritan ideas to a large audience.34 Particularly in London, from at least the 1610s, there was a thriving Puritan subculture that encompassed many congregations and ministers, and even some bishops.35 In 1611, George Abbot, a Puritan sympathizer, was appointed Archbishop of Canterbury, succeeding the hard anti-Puritan Richard Bancroft.
Unofficial seminaries “maintained in the households of eminent Puritan divines, [were ] a common feature of the godly scene…”36 Doctrinal debates in pamphlets and pulpits, informal meetings and secret conventicles, were rife, only loosely regulated by the government most of the time. The ideological struggles over orthodoxy took place in front of a large godly audience of London laymen who financially supported these activities, and often took an active part. A preacher’s reputation could be made or broken by this community. The Puritans’ unofficial, semi-underground activities were kept as much as possible within the general Puritan community, and out of official sight, but on rare occasions broke into wider public view. The heterogeneity of conflicting claims bubbling among the London Puritan clergy, closely attended by the lay populace, was the background to the spread of more radical religion during the 1630s persecution. In 1640, these radical ideas exploded into the open.37
Puritans wanted to instill in the population a recognition of the necessity for making God an active part of their everyday personal lives, as opposed to a passive, rote acceptance of whatever they were told by church officials. “For the godly, morality should be self-imposed: unquestioning obedience to the priest was a positive hindrance.”38 This activist perspective, which challenged individuals to take responsibility and think for themselves, was most popular among the petty-bourgeois crafts artisans and yeomen to whom it gave an ideological coherence as a class, distinct from the rich and the poor.39 Middling tradesmen were the most numerous among the separatist sectary groups.40 But many merchants and gentry, and even a few noblemen were also Puritan adherents or sympathizers. The latter groups’ conceptions, however, were usually more conservative than those lower down on the social ladder.41 The admonition for a “godly” life was analogous to the later emphasis on the more secular term “virtue” as a justification in the 18th century revolutions, and played a similar role.
Luther had firmly relocated religion from obedience to the Church to the belief of the individual, making the laity the equal of the clergy (“‘the priesthood of all believers’”).42 He thereby completed the excoriating critique of England’s own John Wycliffe.43 Faith may have been its own justification,44 but it was no easy matter. Oliver Cromwell committed to Puritanism during the 1630s after what appears to have been a prolonged emotional struggle.45 It was constantly necessary to examine one’s own motives. Only the individual could know whether his intentions and heart were pure. No amount of ritual could make it so. “There is nothing which gives men greater confidence and licence in sinning than the idea that after making confession to priests they can wipe their lips and say, I have not done it,” wrote Calvin.46
This individualistic theology was an outgrowth of early capitalist economic activity. Free choice in religion flowed from free industry and free trade.47 It was by design perfectly suited to the transformation of servile peasants into the wage workers, “free” to be exploited by any employer who would have them, that capitalism requires. Puritans made the dignity of labor a dominant social idea in the early 17th century, simultaneous with the increasing numbers of “masterless” day laborers, and the strategic weight of petty-bourgeois craftworkers and spreading manufacture.48 The Puritans’ severe attitude towards idleness flowed from this individualist outlook. The precept that work profited a man dovetailed all too neatly with the need to instill labor discipline on a population that had formerly lived in the country by the weather, and was unprepared to participate in a competitive money economy. The new workers were unused to the very regular rhythms of an industrializing society, and in this regard the established church was useless to them.49 The condemnation of idleness was also a handy argument against the large number of royalist aristocrats during the Civil War. While most nobles and high gentry were Protestant, very few were Puritan, and a larger minority were Catholic.
The Puritans aimed to redefine labor as a social duty: that work should profit not only oneself, but one’s neighbors. This argument spoke to the need to maximize economic accumulation so that England could compete internationally. Ambitiously, they proclaimed that it was better to increase one’s knowledge and worth “‘to be ready for every man’s service.’”50 This contrasted with the Catholic view that work was punishment for sin.
Puritans argued that popery encouraged idleness (monasteries and nunneries), population decline (chastity), superstition leading to extravagance and wastes of money (church decoration, images, pilgrimages), an excessive number of holidays (saints’ days), and the robbery of alms from the poor by friars.51 In feudal agricultural society one peasant had little opportunity to become richer than another; thus Catholicism presented poverty as a holy state. But for Protestants in an age of nascent capitalism, “…God helps those who help themselves, in which thrift, accumulation and industry are the cardinal virtues, and poverty very nearly a crime.”52 Thus work prevented one from succumbing to sins that idleness leaves one prey to. Catholicism was a religion for landlords who passively collected rents;53 active pursuit of profit was justified provided one’s motives were pure of heart.54
Bibles in English had been available in cheap editions since 1575. In the early 17th century, a growing educated middle class could read, but the literate still included only a minority of the lay population. To Puritans, preaching was the best weapon available in the struggle against the Counter-Reformation. To disparage preaching when Protestantism was fighting for its life in Europe, they charged, was downright unpatriotic as Guy Fawkes’ awful example of 1605 had demonstrated. Conservatives hated preaching, and argued that it led to rebellion, pointing to the Peasant War in Germany, the 1535 Anabaptist takeover of Münster, and Kett’s peasant army of 1549 in Norfolk. Centrists replied that the people needed learned men to teach them, and that keeping them in ignorance would indeed only lead to more rebellion.55
Preaching was seen as the solution to the lower classes’ extensive and horrifying ignorance of religion, or anything else, the legacy of the Church of Rome. Particularly in the less developed north and west of the country, which would in the main support the king in the Civil War, the continued existence of popery and superstition was viewed as both a spiritual and temporal threat. In these regions, a knight told Parliament in 1628, “‘The prayers of the common people are more like spells and charms than devotions.’”56 The spread of preaching’s popularity mutually reinforced the Puritans’ emphasis on it. This led many to view ministers who did not preach as incompetent, illegitimate, unlawful and/or damned. “‘A greater part of the people,’ said a preacher at Paul’s Cross in 1598, hold it ‘the only exercise of the service of God to hear a sermon.’”57 Conservatives charged that listening to sermons, sometimes twice a day, was a lazy way of worship, which accounted for its mania among the common people: “‘this insatiate appetite of it is originally founded either in the not having business or not attending to it’” which was why it attracted servants and workmen in particular. Sectarian separatists and many Independent congregations later combatted this charge of passivity by holding discussions after sermons, to which any member of the congregation could contribute.58
Such discussions were exactly what the hierarchy feared; the strongest denunciation of Puritanism was that it led to factions (as indeed it did) which disturbed social order. Foreigners, however, were impressed by how many people took notes during sermons, which Puritans approved of so that they could “‘help others — children, servants, and neighbors of less understanding.’” Leaving one’s own parish church to seek out sermons or better preachers was against the law, the penalty for which was substantial fines, but some braved it. The fears of conservatives were confirmed by the large increase in lay preaching, fed by the shortage of good preachers on the one hand and the view that any true believer was qualified to spread the word of God on the other.59 The Church hierarchy was naturally shocked by this radically egalitarian notion: that untrained upstarts could propagate their opinions was completely alien to feudal discipline, and directly threatened their own positions.
Puritans were not necessarily opposed to prayer, but most thought preaching more important. “Any minister could make the sign of the cross in baptism, but only a preaching minister could make the parents understand what baptism was really about.”60 Conservatives on the other hand emphasized prayer, which was held to increase devotion as opposed to faction. Catechizing was also upheld over preaching, as rote answers, which could be memorized by illiterate people, were comfortingly reliable. But this lulling passivity exactly subverted the Puritan principle of an “intelligent comprehension of faith.”61
From 1629 on, Puritans were actively purged from the Church hierarchy, their teachings suppressed, and their ministers persecuted.62 “…many court hardliners came to see Calvinist divinity and popular political subversion as two aspects of a seamless whole.”63
In the universities, the pulpits, and the press, the defense of predestinarian doctrine was proscribed, while Arminian clerics were steadily advanced to bishoprics, deaneries, and royal chaplaincies. This was a counter-revolution in the Church of England…64
Arminians, named for the Dutch theologian Jacobus Arminius, were opposed to key Calvinist beliefs, and regarded by Puritans as crypto-Catholics. In fact, it was under James that a steady increase in the appointment of Arminian bishops had begun: in 1603 there were at most two, in 1621, there were nine, and at his death, twelve.65 The persecution under Charles not only reinforced the Puritan-parliamentary political alliance,66 but saw the proliferation of more radical Puritan separatists. Illegal “gathered churches” were organized by like-minded worshipers who totally rejected the church hierarchy, and therefore the king’s government which supported it. In the 1630s, Puritanism was both a political and religious tendency working out its ideas in the light of Charles’ repression and the progress of events. Soon the lines began to be more clearly drawn between Presbyterians and Independents. (The smaller, more radical Anabaptists were the movement’s left wing).
For Puritans of all stripes Laud’s Arminian persecution did not just undermine orthodox Protestantism, but was a political attack on the people’s liberties.67
The evidence leaves little doubt that it was the Puritan citizens and clergy of the metropolis, and some of the less wealthy City merchants as well as a number of merchants of middle and upper middle rank, who nourished the cause of the parliamentary opposition in the years before 1640.68
Prior to 1640, the radical Puritan movement was “nourished” by three London parishes which, unusually, had the right to elect their own ministers and pay them as they saw fit; most official ministers of the state church were appointed by bishops, and supported, poorly, from tithes. A minority among the City clergy, these Puritan ministers were nonetheless respected and popular men whose leading parishioners were sometimes well-known, (such as Alderman Isaac Pennington), well-to–do and, in a very few cases, even titled.
“The rector of St. Anne’s, Blackfriars, from 1621 was William Gouge, who for more than thirty years drew huge crowds, more than his church could accommodate, to his Sunday sermons and his Wednesday lectures.”69 A fourth parish church, St. Antholin’s, had, since 1559, supported six lectures a week “in full Genevan fashion,” making it “the centre of Puritan social and religious activities…a kind of ‘missionary’ headquarters in the heart of London.” The lectures were used as a training ground for young preachers.70 Those who attended were very likely to be millenarian enthusiasts, holding the expectation that the Kingdom of Jesus on Earth was close at hand: “the doctrine became almost orthodox on the Parliamentary side.”71 Though they understood it in their own way, this widespread belief reflected acute awareness of the unfolding social crisis.
Puritans generally considered some version of a presbyterian system, a strict form of which existed in Scotland, to be the goal for a new church. (An earlier, more directed movement for a Presbyterian church had been suppressed by Elizabeth.)72 Both wings demanded more local autonomy than episcopacy (rule of the Church by bishops) allowed, but by 1640 they had different conceptions of how this should be implemented.
Presbyterians were more or less orthodox Calvinists who accepted predestination, the belief that god had already chosen the “elect” to be saved on judgement day. Their bias equated this minority with church “elders:” ministers and prominent men of sober and irreproachably respectable status (i.e., wealthy). They envisioned the elders would occupy congregational boards governing the new church, overseeing the parish through their power to discipline the more ordinary, lower-class souls. Elected as representatives to regional and national synods, these men would be able to mandate decisions for implementation at the local level. All citizens would perforce be members of the new Church, just as had always been the case under feudalism.73 Independents, informed by their experiences in Holland and America during the 1620s and ’30s,74 went further. They were not opposed to a national church structure per se, which they believed necessary for success on a national scale, but they denied it any compulsory authority over individual congregations or what they referred to as “tender consciences.”
Independency, or congregationalism, was characterized by a decentralized, democratic structure in which able laymen could preach alongside trained clergymen.75 Their religion derived from the same Calvinist sources as Presbyterianism, and included many of the same earnest deprecations of anything pleasurable as distractions from a godly life. But the Independent view placed far more emphasis on the individual’s rights and responsibilities for his own fate. What was in a person’s heart or conscience could not be known by anyone else, and therefore could not be imposed by an outside authority; it must come from a struggle within himself. Only in this way could one be assured of salvation. This conception was in contradiction to the Calvinist teaching that the elect to be saved were predetermined or, as was normally expected, likely part of the wealthy elite. It was also implicitly tolerant, at least to any reformed Christian.76 These convictions for an absolute freedom of conscience, and against the dictates of any form of compulsion in religious government, made it the more consistently revolutionary wing of Puritanism. In the long run, however, although more democratic relative to Presbyterianism, it was usually less so compared to the Anabaptists and other separatist groups called sectaries.77
1 “Two Traditions: The Great Rebellion and Chartism,” in Leon Trotsky on Britain (New York: Monad Press, 1925, 1973), 116
2 Hill, “Henrician Reformation,” 30-31, 41
3 Trevelyan, England in the Age of Wycliffe, 348-350
4 Jasper Ridley, Bloody Mary’s Martyrs (London: Constable & Robinson, 2002), 20, 25; Hill, Society, 314-315
5 L. J. Trinterud, “William Haller, Historian of Puritanism,” Journal of British Studies 5, no. 2 (May 1966): 48, http://www.jstor.org/stable/175316 Accessed 7 January 2017
6 Baskerville, “Puritans, Revisionists, and the English Revolution,” 168
7 Solt, “Revolutionary Calvinist Parties,” 234
8 Trinterud, “William Haller,” 37
9 Hill, Society, 30-31
10 MacCulloch, “Mumpsimus, Sumpsimus”
11 Nicholas Tyacke, “Puritanism, Arminianism and Counter-Revolution,” in The Origins of the English Civil War, ed. Conrad Russell (Basingstoke, Hampshire: Macmillan Education, 1973), 129
12 Tobias Gregory, “Runagately Rogue,” London Review of Books 33, no. 16 (25 August 2011), https://www.lrb.co.uk/the-paper/v33/n16/tobias-gregory/runagately-rogue Accessed 16 December 2018; Hill, Society, 257
13 Gregory, “Runagately Rogue”
14 Hill, Society, 142; World, 325-326
15 J.T. Cliffe, The Puritan Gentry: The Great Puritan Families of Early Stuart England (London: Routledge & Kegan Hall, 1984), 7
16 MacCulloch, “Mumpsimus, Sumpsimus”
17 Leonard J. Trinterud, “The Origins of Puritanism,” Church History 20, no. 1 (March 1951): 38-39, 41, 46, http://www.jstor.org/stable/3162047 Accessed 1 July 2017
18 David Underdown, Pride’s Purge (London: Oxford University Press, 1971), 16-18
19 Kenneth Fincham and Peter Lake, “The Ecclesiastical Policy of King James I,” Journal of British Studies 24, no. 2 (April 1985): 174, 177, 182-183, https://www.jstor.org/stable/175702 Accessed 12 October 2018
20 Fincham and Lake, “Ecclesiastical Policy,” 185
21 Tyacke, “Puritanism, Arminianism and Counter-Revolution,” 129; Hill, Society, 2
22 Hill, Society, 5
23 David R. Como, “Secret Printing, the Crisis of 1640, and the Origins of Civil War Radicalism,” Past & Present, no. 196 (August 2007): 81, https://www.jstor.org/stable/25096680 Accessed 11 November 2018.
24 See the section in this chapter below “Puritan subdivisions.”
25 Trinterud, “The Origins of Puritanism,” 38; Hill, Society, 7
26 Hill, Society, 18
27 Kenneth Shipps, “The ‘Political Puritan,’” Church History 45, no. 2 (June 1976): 197, http://www.jstor.org/stable/3163717 Accessed 30 January 2017
28 Trinterud, “The Origins of Puritanism,” 46-47; Brenner, Merchants and Revolution, 664; Solt, “Revolutionary Calvinist Parties,” 235, 236
29 Trinterud, “William Haller,” 35
30 Christopher Hill, “Protestantism and the Rise of Capitalism,” in Essays in the Economic and Social History of Tudor and Stuart England, ed. F. J. Fisher (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1961), 18. Reprinted in Christopher Hill, Change and Continuity in 17-Century England (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1974, 1991)
31 Hill, Society, 18, 38-39
32 Christopher Hill, “History and Denominational History,” The Baptist Quarterly 22, no. 2 (April 1, 1967). Reprinted in The Collected Essays of Christopher Hill Vol. 2 (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1986), 8
33 Tyacke, “Puritanism, Arminianism and Counter-Revolution,” 122; Fincham and Lake, “Ecclesiastical Policy,” 173, 175, 180; Hill, Society, 31-32
34 Cliffe, The Puritan Gentry, 6; C. H. George, “Puritanism as History and Historiography,” Past & Present, no. 41 (December, 1968): 81, http://www.jstor.org/stable/650004 Accessed 17 October 2017
35 Tyacke, “Puritanism, Arminianism and Counter-Revolution,” 125-127
36 Peter Lake and David Como, “‘Orthodoxy’ and Its Discontents: Dispute Settlement and the Production of ‘Consensus’ in the London (Puritan) ‘Underground,’” Journal of British Studies 39, no. 1 (January 2000): 40, http://www.jstor.org/stable/175868 Accessed 25 December 2016.
37 Lake and Como, “London (Puritan) ‘Underground,’” 34, 64-65, 66-68 fn. 81. This study provides a description of three pre-1630 “public” Puritan disputes. 35-63.
38 Hill, “Protestantism and the Rise of Capitalism,” 21
39 Manning, English People, 178, 179-180
40 Keith Lindley, Popular Politics and Religion in Civil War London (Aldershot, Hampshire: Scolar Press, 1997), 80; Hill, World, 41
41 Underdown, Pride’s Purge, 11
42 Hill, Century, 70; “Protestantism and the Rise of Capitalism,” 82-84
43 Trevelyan, England in the Age of Wycliffe, 169-182. Wycliffe’s works were largely destroyed by the authorities in England after his death, but copies were taken to Germany by his adherents where they influenced Jan Hus, first leader of the Czech Reformation, and his followers. 262, 347. It is an interesting question whether Luther, who certainly knew of Hus, had any knowledge of Wycliffe’s writings.
44 Hill, “Protestantism and the Rise of Capitalism,” 16-18; Society, 422
45 Antonia Fraser, Cromwell: Our Chief of Men (St. Albans, Hertshire: Grenada Publishing, 1973), 36-40; Christopher Hill, God’s Englishman: Oliver Cromwell and the English Revolution (London: Penguin Books, 1970, 1988), 32, 42-43; Charles Firth, Oliver Cromwell and the Rule of the Puritans in England (New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1900), 138-145, http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/57268 Accessed 6 July 2018
46 Hill, “Protestantism and the Rise of Capitalism,” 21-22
47 Hill, Society, 423
48 Hill, Society, 112
49 Hill, Society, 101
50 Hill, Society, 103-104
51 Hill, Society, 105-106
52 Hill, Society, 106, 229-232
53 Hill, “Protestantism and the Rise of Capitalism,” 24-25
54 Hill, “Protestantism and the Rise of Capitalism,” 32-33
55 Hill, Society, 32-35
56 Hill, Society, 40
57 Hill, Society, 45
58 Hill, Society, 46
59 Hill, Society, 47-48
60 Conrad Russell, “Introduction,” in The Origins of the English Civil War, ed. Conrad Russell (Basingstoke, Hampshire: Macmillan Education, 1973), 19
61 Hill, Society, 49-51
62 Tyacke, “Puritanism, Arminianism and Counter-Revolution,” 137-140; David R. Como, “Predestination and Political Conflict in Laud’s London,” The Historical Journal 46, no. 2 (June 2003): 268-269, https://www.jstor.org/stable/3133511 Accessed 4 April 2019
63 Como, “Predestination and Political Conflict in Laud’s London,” 272
64 Caroline Hibbard, “Anti-Calvinists: The Rise of English Arminianism c. 1590-1640 by Nicholas Tyacke,” Albion 20, no. 4 (Winter 1988): 619, https://www.jstor.org/stable/4050208 Accessed 22 April 2019
65 Harris, “Revisiting the Causes of the English Civil War,” 626
66 Shipps, “The ‘Political Puritan,’” 204-205
67 Como, “Predestination and Political Conflict in Laud’s London,” 271
68 Pearl, London and the Outbreak, 160
69 Pearl, London and the Outbreak, 162-163
70 Pearl, London and the Outbreak, 163-164; Hexter, King Pym, 81
71 Hill, World, 33-34, 96
72 Cliffe, The Puritan Gentry, 6
73 Hill, Society, 191-192, 204, 379-380, 423-424; H. N. Brailsford, The Levellers and the English Revolution (Nottingham: Spokesman, 1976, 1983), 28
74 Brenner, Merchants and Revolution, 395, 416-417
75 Brenner, Merchants and Revolution, 415
76 Brenner, Merchants and Revolution, 416; Hill, Society, 423-424
77 Trinterud, “William Haller,” 42-43