Reading and Politics in Early Modern England: The Mental World of a Seventeenth-Century Catholic Gentleman by Geoff Baker (review)

This book offers the first full-length study of the papers of William Blundell of Little Crosby (1620–98), a Lancashire Catholic gentleman unremarkable for his career, wealth, or family—but who left us an archive of correspondence and commonplace books that has few equals in early-modern studies and that offers not only a rich portrait of an engaging individual but also a window onto a world.

Geoff Baker first explores Blundell’s social networks of family and friends, through which he exchanged news, views, and literature and acted as a Catholic agent and patron. Through them, he also protected himself from trouble, particularly during the Civil Wars, when he faced sequestration and imprisonment as both a Royalist and a Catholic, but also from the perennial liability that came from adhering to an illegal religion. The second half of the book delves into the “approach to the world” illustrated by Blundell’s commonplace books, largely private collections in which he copied out (and commented on) works of every genre on every subject from theology and natural philosophy to dueling. Baker explores how Blundell combined his commitment as a Catholic believer with his support for the “new science” movement; his interest in travel writing and ethnography; and his engagement with confessional polemic, which included producing at least one work of his own. Interesting details include Blundell’s providing the Protestant Edmund Borlase with lists of (Catholic) sources for Borlase’s work on the history of Ireland, hoping that his own input would “somewhat allay the spirit which poss[ess]eth his [Borlase’s] party” (p. 153).

The study has shortcomings. Baker states in his introduction that the book’s purpose is to consider whether Blundell’s “projected image” of himself as “both a loyal Englishman and a devoted Catholic” was “justified by his actions” and private writings (p. 1). The author’s pre-occupation with this hypothesized dichotomy combines with his anxiety to distance himself from confessional history to produce sometimes simplistic statements. It is hardly a revelation to find that a Catholic professed loyalty but broke the laws, since he could not have practiced Catholicism without breaking a few; similarly, to say that “despite his profession of loyalty” Blundell’s work of managing money for the English Poor Clare nuns at Rouen “posed a direct threat to the Protestant regime” (p. 88) rather suggests mid-range missiles pointed at London mounted on the convent roofs. “Indirect threat to the Protestant church” would express it better and would invite a more pertinent discussion of the contested nature of the meaning of loyalty, as exemplified by Blundell. Again, observing a contradiction between Blundell’s steadfast Catholic recusancy and his writing lists of apparent errors in scripture in his commonplace book (pp. 144–45, 162) is less interesting than pursuing the question of how and why Blundell did not see these as contradictory.

Reading and Politics shines a light on a significant and under-used source, and it may be hoped that it will point the way for social and cultural historians to exploit the potential of the Blundell papers.