By the time Henry II imposed a large donum on cities, knights, moneyers, and Jews in 1159, the English Jewry dwelt in at least eleven communities throughout the realm. Of these, the London community was certainly the oldest, having been established by the Conqueror. The origins of the other communities are much less certain. Records from the end of Henry I's reign suggest that the Jews of England were still based in or around London, though some indirect evidence suggests the presence of isolated Jews elsewhere in the kingdom. It seems clear, however, that the years falling between Henry I's death and the accession of Henry II—the reign of Stephen, commonly known as the Anarchy—witnessed an expansion of Jews throughout the country, marking this period as very important to the history of English Jews. The meager evidence surviving suggests three important points: first, that it was, in fact, in the reign of Stephen that communities of royal Jews spread from London into other English towns; second, that significant Jewish communities existed only in areas that remained under royal control during Stephen's reign; and third, that these new Jewish communities may have been fostered by Stephen to further his own political and fiscal interests. The paucity of the available evidence makes any case for the English Jewry in this period uncomfortably conjectural; nevertheless, the few scraps that exist suggest these points to be at the least plausible, if not indeed likely.

The practice of politics and the nature of government in England were transformed in the reign of Charles II, and recently, the scope and significance of this transformation has received renewed attention. For some years the historiographical spotlight focused on an earlier period, and debate centered upon the genesis of the civil wars and revolution. That is changing, but though a number of historians have once again turned their attention to the Restoration regime, a generally accepted account of the changes of the period has not yet emerged. The earlier historical consensus about some of the major issues of the period—the king's political goals, the importance of the Exclusion Crisis, and the impact of the radical tradition, to name a few—has been subjected to a good deal of critical scrutiny of late.

So read a typical entry from the diary of the widowed Mrs. L.M. Simpson, born in 1839. The continuing refrains of a lack of money, a sense of not belonging and an unwilling dependence reverberate throughout her diary. She celebrated (if that is not too cheerful a term for such a morose notation) her fortieth birthday while writing in this journal, and noted the passing of her former wedding anniversary and the birthdays of each of her deceased parents. The most important entries dealt with persons who are no longer with her and happy events that took place long ago. This lamentation from Mrs. Simpson provides a startling contrast with the picture presented by a large group of historians.

It has been twenty-seven years since Professor Plumb, now Sir John Plumb, delivered the Ford lectures at Oxford University. In a prose that was elegant, spirited, at times colloquial, always luminous, he offered a persuasive explanation for the growth of political stability in eighteenth-century England. Later published as The Growth of Political Stability in England, these lectures were widely read and the explanation offered in them widely accepted. Professor Plumb's thesis became and remains the orthodox interpretation of the political stability that England enjoyed in the eighteenth century.

During the past twenty-seven years, however, a considerable literature has appeared concerning the growth of political stability, some of it occasioned by Professor Plumb's own fertile suggestions. Historians such as J. V. Beckett, Lloyd Bonfield, Christopher Clay, Linda Colley, Norma Landau, John Owen, John Phillips, and Nicholas Rogers have studied the rise of the great estates, the decline of party, the role of patronage, and the politics of deference. The appearance of this literature offers a useful occasion for looking once again at the growth of political stability. In particular, it offers an opportunity to ask how valid is the Plumb thesis, and, if found not to be valid, what alternative explanation can be given for the growth of political stability in eighteenth-century England.

Like Professor Roberts, I, too, think that re-evaluation of J. H. Plumb's The Growth of Political Stability, 1625-1725 poses interesting questions. However, unlike Professor Roberts, I do not think that the scholarship of the past quarter-century has undermined the foundations of Plumb's book. In large part, our assessments differ because we interpret Plumb's book differently. Roberts questions Plumb's identification of the structures that stabilized English politics; but Roberts does not present Plumb's diagnosis of what had been destabilizing English politics, and why. I consider that diagnosis the foundation of Plumb's book, for I read Plumb as arguing that the government of independent gentlemen—even if it be government by independent gentlemen—is no easy matter. How to govern effectively without arousing the ire of those whose autonomy effective central government would inevitably infringe? How to avoid attracting the enmity of powerful landowners, of merchants with power of their own, and of a populace with an experience of rebellion egregious even for seventeenth-century Europe? Roberts does not argue with Plumb's diagnosis of the causes of instability. However, his own solution to that problem implies that Plumb's book is ill-founded, for Roberts never mentions the problems intrinsic to governing the independent. Instead, he proposes that England achieved stability because English politicians elaborated constitutional conventions that subordinated the monarch to Parliament, and because the Church of England no longer had to fear for its existence. Roberts is dancing to a Whig beat, but Plumb played a Country tune.