The Oxford Illustrated History of the Reformation

Edited by Peter Marshall

Oxford University Press, £25

We can all agree that the sixteenth-century Reformation was one of the most dramatic events in world history. New, lasting faiths were born and the intellectual, social, and political landscapes of an entire continent were utterly transformed. There is, however, a striking lack of consensus when it comes to answering the most basic questions about this epochal development. Why did the Reformation happen? How exactly did it unfold in different places? What were the long term consequences? The general reader is perfectly entitled to feel a little bewildered when faced with all the intricate scholarly debates but he or she has been well-served in recent years. Deeply learned but wonderfully accessible general histories of the period (notably those by Diarmaid MacCulloch and Mark Greengrass) have been flying off the presses. This new Oxford Illustrated History is a relatively slender volume but, on many levels, it bears comparison with the very best studies and compendia. The bench of contributors is stellar and the book brings news of the latest research to a wider audience. There are, perforce, lacunae but, to be fair, only so many pages were available. All told, a hearty 'bravo' is in order.

Various assumptions about the Reformation refuse to vanish. It is easy, for instance, to suppose that the whole episode was inevitable. On this analysis, medieval Christianity was in a terrible state and there was mass disaffection. The Reformation is thus cast as the culmination of all this pent up anger and dismay. Actually, the late medieval Church, while far from perfect, was in tolerable health and in, let's say, 1500 nobody was predicting a religious revolution. Indeed, the very word 'revolution' is problematic. The early reformers clearly wanted things to change but they did not envisage a century of bloodshed and mayhem. It is also tempting to assume that, once the Reformation got underway, everyone quickly took sides. After all, the most fundamental religious issues (as well as salvation) were at stake. As it happened, and as so much recent work has demonstrated, one of the hallmarks of sixteenth-century religious life was confusion. It sometimes took decades for definitive theological lines to be drawn and, well into the century, there were attempts (doomed, but heartfelt) to put the genie back in the bottle.

We can (and should) view the Reformation through the eyes of learned, bullish theologians but we must also take into account the millions of ordinary people who struggled to understand what was going on. For every heroic martyr there were legions of puzzled folk who tried to live quiet lives in noisy times. Theological correctness insisted that a Catholic should have nothing to do with a Protestant (and vice versa) and, all too frequently, such imperatives resulted in violence and venom. The goal of religious conformity, and the attendant assault on perceived heterodoxy, did very good business during the sixteenth century. The Reformation claimed many victims and the era's texts are brimful of the most savage language. There was, however, another side to the Reformation which was defined, every now and again, by coexistence and compromise. People did not attempt to get along with their neighbours because of some modern-day belief in religious freedom or toleration (such concepts had not yet been invented) but out of straightforward pragmatism. It is also worth pointing out that even those with firmly-held confessional beliefs sometimes saw the wisdom in keeping their heads down. This, from the official theological perspective, was inexcusable but, at parish level, it was the most obvious strategy in the world. A religious battle royal was clearly underway, but we can't really blame the vast majority of the European population for attempting to dodge as many conflicts and dilemmas as possible. For many, the Reformation was something to be survived.

Producing a survey of our increasingly nuanced understanding of the period is an unenviable task. Oxford University Press recruited the ideal shepherd in Peter Marshall: one of the most prolific and gifted Reformation historians at work today. He, in turn, managed to assemble an estimable group of contributors. Bruce Gordon guides us through late medieval Christianity, Lyndal Roper discusses Luther, Carlos Eire tackles Calvinism, Brad Gregory writes on the Radical Reformation, Simon Ditchfield looks at the Catholic response to Reformation, and Alex Walsham examines Reformation legacies. This, by any reasonable standard, is a dream team. The era's maelstrom and animosity are here, but so is a keen sense of how the disruptions and opportunities provoked by Reformation - or, better, Reformations - played out at the workaday level: in the rhythms of daily life and the countless attempts to conceptualise some of the most dramatic shifts in Christian history. We are also reminded of two crucial points. First, the Reformation was a global event: it would, courtesy of what we used to call the Age of Discovery, have profound ramifications in several continents. Second, charting the long-term consequences of Reformation is far more difficult than might be imagined. You can conjure up overarching theses that describe the emergence of pluralism, religious freedom, and theological democratisation but it is sensible to remember that the architects of an unintended climacteric would not share your modern sensibilities. No-one, at the time, had the faintest idea of how things would unfold.

The Reformation was a muddle: by turns, wondrous and devastating. Unless I've missed something, no-one has yet provided a satisfactory account of why it took place and, as every hard-working scholar in the archives knows, none of its idiosyncratic regional variants can be understood without a life-time of study. And yet it is always useful to receive a wide-ranging progress report from the academic trenches. This splendid book therefore represents a significant milestone. As the editor puts it, the Reformation is an old subject with a new face. 2017 will mark the five-hundredth anniversary of Luther's initial protest and we can expect an avalanche of books, television documentaries, and newspaper articles. My advice is to get ahead of the game and remind yourself of the rich, if twisted, tapestry of Reformation history. Marshall's edited volume would be the ideal place to start.