Leslie Williams uses the phrase “to make a long and complicated story concise” (113) as an explanation of her purpose in writing this book. She sets out specifically not to write another in-depth study of the life and thought of Thomas Cranmer, given that there is no lack of books already dedicated to this theme. Her purpose here, and it is an admirable one, is to provide the interested reader (rather than the critical scholar), including priests and seminarians, a well-rounded portrait of an important figure instrumental in the early development of an essential institution—the English Church—at a key stage in English history: the Tudor/Reformation period. Her goal is to make clear why Cranmer has had so much attention dedicated to him by historians and theologians interested in that era, combining anecdotal material (largely provided by John Foxe) with scholarly historical and theological studies. (Williams readily acknowledges the two most recent works on Cranmer—the 1993 essay collection edited by Paul Ayris and David Selwyn and Diarmaid MacCulloch’s magisterial biography of 1996—but draws too heavily and uncritically upon the latter for contextual information.) The book features twenty short chapters arranged chronologically from “Beginnings” to “Death.” The portrait that emerges is of a timid, almost saintly scholar thrust into controversies he wanted no part in but one who emerged from his trials as a true defender of his faith. The basic facts are rehearsed in a clear and simple manner and the basic chronology observed. I can see what non-scholars will take away from the book (it is an interesting story after all), but it is more difficult to see what priests and seminarians would get out of it, as they should have some firm basis in theological studies already.
It is obvious that this book was not written by an historian. This is not necessarily a bad thing, however, as non-historians can bring interesting perceptions to their subject, but Williams does not avoid the pitfalls historians would be conscious of, and this undermines the value of the book. For instance, the text is riddled with far too many weasel words and phrases—“must have been”, “perhaps”, “probably”—which hints at a lack of familiarity with the facts or uncertainty with her conclusions. This uncertainty is passed on to the reader. This may be a result of Williams’s reliance on unproven anecdotal evidences. The too heavy reliance on second hand information and extremely biased accounts here, written by contemporary or near-contemporary Cranmer disciples and cheerleaders, may add drama to the story, but it skewers the reality. As a result, for instance, the old picture of the Henrician bishops as mere time-servers is presented as fact, and Williams puts a great deal of positive spin on what might otherwise be considered character flaws in her subject. Thus, Cranmer’s longer than normal undergraduate career becomes evidence for a calm, considerate, and thorough manner, while his “chameleon-like personality” (30) is interpreted as open-mindedness rather than, say, indecision. Williams wants to portray Cranmer as the influencer, but he appears here more often as the influenced, bullied into complaince by other authority figures like the king, Cromwell, Anne Boleyn, and the duke of Somerset. Another weakness is the lack of analysis. The uncritical use of anecdotal evidence changes the meaning of some events or leaves them open to lazy conclusions. For example, Williams wonders at the obstructionism of bishops Gardiner and Stokesley to Cranmer’s metropolitan authority (46) without explaining why these two savvy individuals took the stance they did. Later she does not seem to understand that parliament was dismissed at the king’s pleasure in that era (64). These are perhaps minor complaints important only to professional historians, but ignoring those gives non-experts an unrealistic picture. Moreover, there are factual errors. For instance, Richard Sampson was bishop of Chichester (not of Chester); Miles Coverdale was not a bishop until 1551 (and neither was John Hooper); and John Fisher was executed in June, not in July. These errors may be evidence of editorial glitches (as too is the fact that no footnotes are listed for pages 82-84).
The last five chapters of the book are considerably better than the previous fifteen, although chapter 17 (on the reign of Mary) does perpetuate the Bloody Mary stereotype without comment or acknowledgement of more recent historical revisionism. Chapter 16, on the consolidation of the Reformation under Edward VI, is by far the most interesting and useful chapter. Here Williams presents some analysis of the important theological issues, but perhaps not wishing to put off non-experts, she never ventures into depths that a priest or seminarian reader might appreciate. There are also two very useful appendices: a review of the key issues of the Reformation and a clear and concise (i.e., simple) overview of Reformation Eucharistic theology. All told Williams does what she sets out to do: “to make a long and complicated story concise.” It is a good read, well written despite its flaws, and very interesting. I don’t know, however, whether this is enough to inspire non-experts to dig a little more deeply into the issues raised. I hope it is. Otherwise we are left with non-experts acquiring only a very unnuanced portrait of a man for whom nuance was everything.
Andrew A. Chibi is Director of the Distance Learning Association, Sheffield, United Kingdom.
Andrew A. Chibi
Date Of Review:
March 23, 2018
