THE
FIERY SPIRITS : POPULAR PROTEST, PARLIAMENT AND THE ENGLISH REVOLUTION
By
John Rees
Reviewed by Jim Burns
England in the early seventeenth century was a place of rising tensions
between peasants and landlords. John Rees says that “Some of the richer
farmers began to increase their wealth, while others found that their plots
of land, were no longer able to support their households. Landlords in turn
began to try to increase the wealth they could draw by transferring
copy-hold tenancies - the
traditional, perpetual, secure form in which peasants held land – into
leaseholds, which were fixed-term and whose cost to the peasant could more
easily be increased”.
Peasants were forced from land they had held through generations. And it
caused them to depend on common land for sustenance. But the landlords,
including the “greatest landlord of all, the king”, viewed the common land
as “a gigantic, underdeveloped economic resource”. A process of
“disafforestation”, which removed peasants from the “protection of Forest
Law, which guaranteed their rights to common land”, got under way.
Inevitably, this led to what Rees describes as a “backlash”, as
anti-enclosure riots broke out. The rioters were often well-armed and
organised and stood up to troops sent to disperse them. Rees refers to one
encounter where the rioters shouted, “Here we were born, and here we will
die”.
It
was into this setting that “the Fiery Spirits” stepped, though the question
of enclosure of the common land wasn’t the only one on their minds. The
relationship between the king and the House of Commons was to play an
increasingly important part in what eventually led to revolution, as did the
role of religion. There were deep suspicions that the king, in this case
Charles 1, under the influence of his French-born wife, was attempting to
re- introduce Catholicism into England. “No Popery” was a popular cry to be
heard as matters developed.
Who
were these Fiery Spirits? Rees names four leading ones – Henry Marten, Peter
Wentworth, William Strode, and Alexander Rigby - along with fifteen others
he classifies as their “allies.” And perhaps of almost equal importance to
his account of the road to 1649 and the execution of the king were the
Levellers, including such leading figures as John Lilburne and Richard
Overton, both noted for their pamphleteering on behalf of the Leveller
cause, and Colonel Thomas Rainsborough, a prominent spokesman for the
Levellers at the Putney Debates in 1647 as they called for universal male
suffrage. It was Rainsborough who spoke the words that have echoed down the
ages and are still relevant today: “The poorest he that is in England hath a
life to live as the greatest he”.
Rees devotes space to Alexander Rigby, a member of the Puritan branch of the
Rigby family in Goosnargh near Preston. Born in 1594 he was admitted to
Gray’s Inn in 1610 and became a lawyer. In April 1640 he was elected MP for
Wigan in the Short Parliament (so-called because it was closed down by
Charles) and re-elected in November 1640 to the Long Parliament where he
remained until his death in 1650. During
the Civil War he was a colonel in the Parliamentary Army and, among other
things, conducted the siege of Lathom House which was defended by Charlotte
Stanley, Countess of Derby. When the
siege was raised by the arrival of Royalist forces led by Prince Rupert the
Parliamentary troops retreated to Bolton. The town became famous because of
the “Bolton Massacre” when Rupert’s soldiers followed his orders of “no
quarter” and killed men, women and children.
Rigby was present at other battles. In October 1643 he led his troops
against Royalists at Swarthmoor, near Ulverston, and later reported that
“God so struck the hearts of these our enemies with terror” that they broke
and ran before much actual fighting had started. That reference to God’s
intervention on the side of the Parliamentarians points to the conviction of
being involved in a just cause that motivated their actions. Interestingly,
despite Rigby’s obvious dedication to the Parliamentary desire to oppose
Charles’s belief in the divine right of kings, Rees says that he and Peter
Wentworth “drew back as the trial of the king loomed. Their motives for
doing so were never explicitly stated, but they are likely to have resulted
from fear of a Royalist backlash, concern about the ability of the radicals
to generate sufficient support for regicide, pressure from moderate
Parliamentarians locally and nationally, and sympathy for the Levellers’
unease at the prospect of a military republic”. Neither of them signed the
death warrant when Charles was found guilty.
The
question of what the Civil War was fought for is a fascinating one. It seems
to me that the aim to limit the king’s powers to override Parliament was,
even if in an indirect way, always a key factor in the popular discontent
that cropped up due to a range of problems. Peasants opposed enclosure of
common land. Sailors rebelled when
they weren’t paid, soldiers likewise. Townspeople were prone to protest
against compulsory billeting of troops, something which they often weren’t
compensated for. And, needless to say, citizens at all levels took issue
with the taxes that Charles and his ministers attempted to extract from
them. Rees looks at the “widespread tax strike by important mercantile
interests. The import-export duties Tonnage and Poundage were at the centre
of this agitation – specifically the Crown’s simultaneous attempts to impose
surcharges on them, and to claim them as a right, rather than a tax
dependent on parliamentary consent”. Rees sums up the situation in the
country generally: “all such unrest added to a social and political crisis
at the end of the 1620s”.
It
might, at this point, be useful to stress that opposing the king was not an
easy thing to do. Take the case of Dr Alexander Leighton, a Puritan who was
“associated with Henry Jacob’s radical church in Blackfriars, the mother
church of all separatist congregations”. As such, he was “already in the
sights of the authorities” for having published two pamphlets advocating the
abolition of episcopacy, opposition to Charles’s marriage to a Catholic, and
military support for the Protestant cause in Europe”. Described as a “Fiery
Spirit”, he was arrested when he published another pamphlet which called for
wholesale reform of the Church and abolition of the roles of Bishops and
Archbishops, among other things. Leighton was accused of being “a
schismatic, and a blasphemer; he had insulted the queen; he was guilty of
treason”. Found guilty, “he was
to be imprisoned for the rest of his life and fined £10,000, but that was
the least of it. He was also to have his ears cut off, his nose slit in both
nostrils, to be whipped at a post and afterwards to be stood in the pillory.
His face was to be branded with the letters ‘SS’, for Stirrer-up of
Sedition”.
This brings us back to that question of how far the king could claim that
his “divine right” as a king allowed him to act without consulting
Parliament? There’s no doubt that it loomed large in the thinking of the
Fiery Spirits and their supporters. And led to at least some of them
believing that getting rid of the king, and establishing a republic, was a
legitimate aim. It was probably always a minority concept, but it gained
some support at the time of the Civil War when the king’s actions in waging
war against his subjects began to raise doubts about him – this ”man of
blood”, as he would be called -
in many minds.
I’m
jumping ahead to 1642 by which time the king, facing growing opposition, had
left London for Windsor. When asked by the Commons to return he refused,
giving as one reason, the “many seditious Pamphlets and Sermons” in
circulation. In Rees’s words : “The king was not wrong to see beneath, and
connected to, the parliamentary opposition a growing network of activists,
writers and printers engaged in popular mobilisation against the monarchy”.
It was the profusion of pamphlets, and other printed material such as
petitions, which frequently caused crowds, sometimes armed, to congregate
around Parliament to demonstrate their support for the MPs standing firm
against Charles. It needs to be noted their presence was not always welcome
to those MPs who took a more moderate stance regarding relations with the
king.
The
Fiery Spirits
does not claim to present a military history of the Civil War, though some
details do necessarily occur in the narrative. The Levellers arose out of
agitation in the forces, including when it was formed the New Model Army,
that Cromwell and Fairfax led to victory at
Marston Moor (1644) and Naseby (1645), and determined the fate of the
king when, during the Second Civil War, Cromwell defeated a combined
Royalist and Scottish army at Preston in 1648. (As an aside, when I was
young in the 1940s I used to often study the painting of the battle in the
Harris Museum and Art Gallery in Preston). Rees doesn’t devote a lot of
commentary to the Levellers – he has written an earlier book about them –
though they have intrigued more than one historian. The Levellers, or at
least the more adventurous and militant among them, had a radical programme
and argued about it with Cromwell and Ireton at the Putney Debates in 1647.
How far many of the others who, for a time wore the sea-green ribbons of the
Levellers, were similarly committed may be open to debate.
Much of the discontent in the New Model Army perhaps rested on the fact that
the troops were owed back pay. And, later, that they objected to being sent
to Europe or Ireland to fight. There always had been nervousness in
Parliament about the power that had accrued to the army during the wartime
years, and how it was likely to be used when the fighting was over. Elements
in Parliament were keen to disband the army once the king had been safely
defeated. Rees sees it in these terms : “The plan of the Presbyterian
majority in the Commons, aided by sympathetic peers, the Scots and the peace
party in the City, was simple and brutal: to move against the New Model Army
by disbanding its regiments or shipping them to Ireland. They planned to do
so without having met the back pay the soldiers were owed”.
Rees’s closing chapter, “To Kill a King?”, is a detailed examination of the
arguments and other activities that took place as the various groups and
individuals presented their plans for, in some cases, a total restructuring
of society, in others a few adaptations and adjustments to the existing
order. Not everyone wanted a complete disposal of the monarchy. The
situation was complex and can’t easily be summarised here. Rees says : “The
trial and execution of the king superseded all other political strategies,
and the new Republic was born of these acts, not brought into the world by a
new constitutional arrangement. The changes to the constitution, the
abolition of the House of Lords and the declaration of the Republic came as
a result”.
What happened to the Fiery Spirits?
Of the four leading ones named by Rees, Alexander Rigby died in 1650,
“possibly from a fever caught from prisoners while presiding over the
assizes at Chelmsford, in Essex”. William
Strode died of fever in 1645, and Peter Wentworth passed away in 1675. As
noted earlier he wasn’t one of those who signed the king’s death warrant.
But when the monarchy was restored in 1660 he retired to his country estate
and a quiet life. Henry Marten was a regicide and his name was on the
warrant. He was arrested in 1660 and spent the remaining years of his life
in prison, dying in 1680.
The
Fiery Spirits
is a book packed with details of the lives of not only the leading fiery
spirits but others like them. At times, especially as regards activities in
and around Parliament, we almost follow events on a daily basis as opinions
shift and clash, pamphlets advocating one cause or another circulate in the
city, and violence erupts with fighting on the streets and in the Commons.
It was a turbulent time and, until it happened, no-one really knew what the
outcome was likely to be. There are over sixty pages of notes to supplement
Rees’s text. And that text is never less than clear in its intention to tell
an important and fascinating story.