(This is part of my journey through Revolutions Podcast, which I talked about HERE. As I said in that post, I'm only going to do video reviews for the individual seasons, and then will put together a written review once I've worked my way through the whole podcast.)
Before I get into the actual book itself, let me start with the subject matter and how I became interested in it. I first became interested in “The Levellers” when reading “A People’s History of the World” by Chris Harman. Now, I know I had a number of negative things to say about that book, but in spite of all its flaws there are one or two things Chris Harman does a pretty good job on. One theme that Chris Harman does a good job of emphasizing is that in any era of history, the bottom rungs of society have never really accepted that their lot is simply to be poor and miserable. This is notable, because it is in contrast to another view of history: that before the enlightenment philosophers and French Revolution got the mobs all riled up, the idea of political and economic equality never really occurred to people. I had one Latin Professor at college who I remember once espoused this view to us at length, and was at great pains to emphasize to us that we could not try and understand the ancient world by using our modern ideas of equality. Sure, there had occasionally been peasant rebellions and slave revolts, but this did not mean that people like Spartacus believed in equality as a philosophical principle. Spartacus and his like were simply rebelling to improve their own lives. No one back then, not even the lower classes, could comprehend the idea that everyone should be equal. Harman, I think, does a fairly good job of demolishing this point of view by showing that throughout history the lower classes have not only fought for equality, but (in the instances where their writings have survived) spoken and written in favor of equality. (This is also in accordance with Chomsky’s view that human beings have a natural desire for freedom and equality, and they don’t have to be taught about these things by philosophers.) To support this view Harman covers numerous rebellions and movements, but one of the more interesting movements that Harman touches on briefly is the Leveller Movement, which occurred in England during the 1640s—something that had been left out of my history education completely, but which I found fascinating. At the time, there was a civil war going on between the Royalists and the Parliamentarians. The Parliamentarians wanted to establish a republican system of government, but one in which only wealth land-owners could vote. However within the ranks of the common people and soldiery, there emerged several more radical egalitarian movements, such as the Leveller Movement, which believed in universal suffrage and the removal of all social distinctions. Although ultimately unsuccessful, the Leveller’s had great influence in the Parliamentarian army, and for a while were a real threat to Oliver Cromwell and the Grandees (as Parliament's leaders were known). Cromwell and Ireton were even forced to debate the Leveller’s at the Putney debates. I was curious to find out more about the Levellers after this, but living in Japan at the time I did not have access to a decent English library. And so I did the standard geek thing and wasted a lot of time reading about them on the Internet. Wikipedia alerted me to the fact that the Leveller Movement had recently been the subject of a British television mini-series “The Devil’s Whore (W).” At the time, there were several copies of “The Devil’s Whore” up on YouTube (and they might still be up for all I know, if you want to try and watch them yourself) so I tracked down the various parts and sat through all 4 hours of it. “The Devil’s Whore” retells Leveller history as a sappy romance saga (fellows should be warned ahead of time) and it does get pretty sappy at points. But it also did do a great job of introducing me to Leveller figures such as Edward Sexby, Thomas Rainsborough, and John Lilburne, and for this reason alone I give it a cautious recommendation if you can track down a copy.
If you can track down a copy, the four part BBC series The Devil’s Whore (W) also does a good job of introducing the main figures in the Leveller and Digger movement.
Because we are living in a time of self-isolation and boredom, I'll post Youtube copies of The Devil's Whore below. For anyone desperate for some distraction. I give it a cautious recommendation. Yes, it is pretty cheesy, and sappy, and over the top. But I think the introduction it gives to the Leveller and Digger movements makes it worth watching in spite of its flaws. There's some really interesting true history buried in this melodrama.
And as
before, I continue to enjoy the story-telling element of these books despite
not really sharing the values or politics of the protagonists.
But since I
said all that previously, let me focus on what is unique to this book.
The Review
Everyone knows about The Three Musketeers.And most people at least recognize The Man in the Iron Mask (the last book
in the Three Musketeers series.)But the books in the middle seem to be
largely forgotten.Few people are
familiar with Twenty Years After.
(In fact,
while I was reading this book, I was made very aware of how few people
recognize Twenty Years After. Over the past few weeks, whenever a friend or
co-worker asked to see what I was reading, not one person recognized the title.)
The sequel
requires a little bit more patience than the original book.The original Three Musketeers starts off immediately with a fight, and then
continues to keep the pacing fast and the action plenty as D’artagnan dashes
from one fight to another.
Twenty Years After, by contrast, has a
slow start. After beginning with the complexities of French politics during the
Fronde (W), there is an extended “Where Are They Now?” round-up
narrative in which D’Artagnan travels around to collect each of his old
friends.
(I suspect
this is already obvious from the title, but just to state the obvious: this
sequel takes place 20 years after the original book.The Musketeers are all middle-aged now, and
have gone their separate ways.)
It takes
about 200 pages before all 4 of the protagonists are assembled, and then
finally the story can truly begin.
The history
in Twenty Years After is also more
complex.The book takes place in
1648-1649, a period when both France
and England
were undergoing civil wars.Over the
course of the book, the Musketeers find themselves involved in both conflicts
and this requires the reader to keep track of the politics of both conflicts.
I’m enough
of a history geek to find these civil wars quite interesting, but that’s just
me.It’s quite possible that another
reader, someone who is only interested in these books for the action and
adventure, would get frustrated by all the chapters describing the politicians
scheming against each other.
However,
with those caveats aside, if you have the patience to wade through the politics
of the Fronde period, and also the extended round-up narrative at the beginning,
then you will find this book does not disappoint.
The first
200 pages move pretty slowly, but after you get through the initial set-up,
then the story takes off pretty well from there.I don’t want to give too much of the plot
away, but there’s lots of action, some great cloak-and-dagger intrigue, and a
couple of really good escape scenes.
The History (Warning:
Spoilers)
This book deals with both a civil
war in France (the Fronde) and a civil war in England.The Fronde I know absolutely nothing
about.The civil war in England,
however, I - am - somewhat - familiar - with.I’ll
comment a bit on my reaction to the historical sections of these books, but be
warned, there are plot spoilers ahead.
1. The Fronde
Since I don’t
know anything about the Fronde period in France, I’ll leave it to others to
comment on the historical accuracy of Dumas’s portrayal.(I know Dumas likes to mix fiction with real
history, so I’m treating the history in these sections with caution, but I don’t
know enough to determine on my own what is real and what is not.)
What I will
say, though, is that I thoroughly enjoyed the story.
In the
original Three Musketeers, Cardinal
Richelieu (W) was presented as the master schemer in government. By the time of Twenty Years After, Richelieu is dead, and instead Cardinal Mazarin
holds Richelieu’s former position.
Cardinal
Mazarin (W), the narrator explicitly tells us, is not the equal of Richelieu.Cardinal Richelieu could dominate and control the various factions in
the French society, but Mazarin only has a tenuous grip on his power.
Nevertheless,
in terms of the story Mazarin plays much the same part as Richelieu
played.He is the ultimate schemer who
concocts plot after plot to ensure his power.
But what
makes Twenty Years After different is
that this time there are two scheming churchman.There’s Cardinal Mazarin on the side of the
royal family, but on the side of the Frondeurs there is the Coadjutor Gondi
(W).
Mazarin
schemes to keep order in Paris and preserve his
position, Gondi schemes to bring about civil disorder in Paris and topple Mazarin. Gondi is every bit
Mazarin’s equal, and the city of Paris
lurches from one crisis to the next as both men scheme against each other.
And, caught
up in the middle of everything are the 4 Musketeers.
In the
original book, everything was a lot more clear-cut.Cardinal Richelieu was the enemy, and the
Musketeers had to save the Queen’s honor from Richelieu’s
schemes.
Here, the
Musketeers are caught between two equally Machiavellian scheming churchman, and
it’s unclear who they should side with.
All of this
comes to a head one night when Coadjutor Gondi is snubbed at court by Cardinal
Mazarin, and then Gondi leaves plotting his revenge while Mazarin takes D’Artagnan
aside to tell him to watch Gondi.
In
response, D’artagnan turns to Porthos and says, “The Devil! That’s getting bad; I do not like quarrels between
churchmen.”
And at this
point the Musketeers have a good idea that the rift between these two churchman
is not going to be smoothed over, and Paris
is about to erupt.
The
interesting thing about this civil war is the way it splits the Musketeers down
the middle.D’Artagnan and Porthos side
with Mazarin and the royal family, Athos and Aramis side with Gondy and the
Frondeurs.
In fact, there’s
a great scene which occurs after the Duc de Beaufort (W), one of the
Frondeurs, has been sprung from prison.Athos and Porthos have been working to help Beaufort escape, while D’Artagnan
and Porthos are, on Mazarin’s orders, trying to re-capture Beaufort.Neither group knows that their friends are on
the other side, and during the middle of the fighting the 4 Musketeers suddenly
find themselves face to face with each other.
[Digression:
I know that the whole subplot with the Duc de Beaufort ended up just fizzling
out and not going anywhere (which was pretty surprising since his character’s
story arch dominated the middle of the book—perhaps its one of the indications
this book was originally published in serial form), but I still enjoyed the
whole story arch about the Duc de Beaufort’s prison escape.The whole lead up to the Duc de Beaufort’s
escape, and the suspense created around it, was really great.I also liked the irony that the Duc de
Beaufort was just as vain and as stubborn as Cardinal Mazarin, the man who had
put him into prison. So instead of the typical prison escape story—a story
about a good and kind man wrongly imprisoned—the story is about Athos and Aramis
where putting all this effort into freeing a man who probably doesn’t deserve
their help, but they still recognized his symbolic value for the Frondeur cause
anyway.]
2. The English Civil
War
The Fronde conflict in France
is portrayed (somewhat) sympathetically.The people are shown as having legitimate grievances against the
policies of Mazarin and Queen Anne, and the Fronde cause has enough merit to
attract 2 out of the 4 Musketeers.
It’s not an
idealistic portrayal of a popular uprising—at the end of the story we find that
the actual leaders of the Fronde movement are just as greedy and selfish as
their opponents.But at least Dumas
treats the conflict with an equal amount of cynicism towards both sides.
This
balance however completely disappears once we cross the English
Channel.There is no
attempt to balance the legitimate complaints of the Parliamentary party against
the plight of King Charles.Instead the
English Civil War is portrayed in terms of pure good versus pure evil.The monarchy is portrayed as good, and the Puritan
republicans as evil.
The
Musketeers themselves are all unashamedly monarchists.In chapter 24, Athos gives his son a speech
about how although the King himself may make mistakes, the idea of monarchy is
to be always protected and revered.
Initially,
Athos and Aramis go to aid King Charles out of their respect for the sacred
tradition of Monarchy.D’Artagnan and
Porthos, on the other hand, are ordered by Mazarin to serve as emissaries to
Cromwell, but in chapter 60 the 4 Musketeers confront each other and Athos
rebukes D’Artagnan for not helping the King Charles.D’Artagnan replies:
“And how, after all, does it concern me that
M. Cromwell, who is an Englishman, should rebel against his king, who is Scotch?I am
a Frenchman; these things do not concern me.Why, then, should you make me responsible for them?”
To which
Athos replies:
“Because all gentlemen are brothers. You are
a gentlemen, and kings of all countries are the first among gentlemen. Because
the blind and ungrateful populace always delight in bringing down what is
higher; and it is you—you, D’Artagnan, the man of high birth, good name, and of
great bravery, who have helped to hand over a king to sellers of beer, tailors,
and wagoners! Ah, D’Artagnan, as a soldier you have perhaps done your duty, but
as a gentleman you are culpable.”
This
sentiment, that the republican cause is less reputable than the King Charles’s
cause because the republicans are made up of common tradesmen, occurs repeatedly
throughout the book.
[There’s a
double standard going on here, because back in France, Athos and Aramis had sided
with the Frondeurs against the French royal family.In the case of the Frondeur conflict, Athos
and Aramis were able to justify this by claiming that they were not rebelling
against the personage of the King himself, but only against the King’s policy
makers.In the initial stages of the
English Civil War, the same logic was used by the many in the Parliamentary
forces, but Dumas completely ignores this subtlety.]
Of course I
know that in and of itself the characters’ opinions don’t always reflect the
author’s opinions. But what’s more
revealing is how Dumas frames the whole story.King Charles is portrayed in this book much in the same way his propagandists
always portrayed him during the Restoration Period—as an innocent martyr.The Puritans and republicans, by contrast,
are always portrayed as bloodthirsty thugs.During the king’s trial, the narrator himself while often break into the
story to editorialize about how unfairly King Charles was being treated.
In other
words, it’s not just the opinions of the characters—the whole book has an
anti-republican sentiment.
I’m not
sure exactly what’s going on here.According to Wikipedia, Dumas was a republican sympathizer and even
participated in the July Revolution (W). So he clearly can’t believe it’s wrong for a
populace to rebel and overthrow a monarch, because he participated in it
himself.
I’ve
searched the Internet in vain to try and get some more insight into the
intersection between Dumas’s personal sympathies, and the politics of Twenty Years After, and have come up
with nothing.If anyone out there can
enlighten me, please do so.
But if I
had to make a guess, I would suspect Dumas was writing more as a dramatist than
an ideologue and was simplifying the complexities of the English Revolution in
order to make a good story, in the same way that English writers often did the
same with the French Revolution.Charles Dickens, for example, was content to simplify all the complexities of the French Revolution into a blood-thirsty lower-class mob for the purposes of his story-telling.(It’s worth remembering that Dumas wrote
primarily because he was always desperate for money, and in the
1840s he may have judged the anti-republican themes to be the safer more
marketable story.)
And while I’m
making comparisons with English authors, here’s something else that struck me:
In Twenty Years After, King Charles is
portrayed as being abandoned by all his friends and allies except for the 4
Musketeers, who are faithful to him until the end.Several times in Twenty Years After, the book makes a big point of praising the bravery
of these Frenchman who tirelessly tried to rescue the King from the scaffold even
after all his own countrymen had abandoned him.
All of this
reminded me of the English book The Scarlet Pimpernel, in which the hero of the
book is an Englishman who tirelessly works to save helpless, but eternally
grateful Frenchmen, from the guillotine.
How ironic
that in the 19th Century, English authors were writing books about how brave
Englishman saved helpless Frenchman from the bloodthirstiness of the French
Revolution, while French authors were writing about how brave Frenchman saved
helpless Englishman from the bloodthirstiness of the English Revolution.(There’s probably some lesson to be learned
here somewhere about the national biases of history.)
And here’s
another thing that makes me wonder if Dumas is taking his own portrayal of the
English Civil War seriously:
At the end
of the original Three Musketeers, the
Musketeers capture Milady and decide to appoint themselves tribunals and put
Milady on trial for her crimes. They
had, of course, no legal authority for doing this, but they decided it was
justified given the circumstances and given the de facto power that they held over Milady after they had ambushed
and captured her.
They acted
both in dual capacity as both prosecutors and judges.There was no one there to speak in Milady’s
defense.Once they had listed their
grievances against Milady, they pronounced a sentence of death against her,
took her outside, and promptly executed her.
Ironically,
however, this exact same form of justice is what the Musketeers (and also the story’s narrator) find so
repellant about King Charles’s trial.
In chapter
68, the narrator editorializes: “The
Parliament condemned Charles Stuart to death, as it was easy to foresee.
Political trials are always empty formalities, for the same passions which
bring the accusation pronounce the judgment also.Such is the terrible logic of revolutions.”
Well then,
could not the same be said about Milady’s trial in which the same passions also
brought both the accusation and the judgment?Is Dumas deliberately being ironic, or is this a double standard?
It’s
possible this is just an oversight on Dumas’s part, but the thing that makes me
suspect he’s being ironic is that he uses the same chapter titles for both
procedures. In the Three Musketeers,
chapter 65, in which Milady is condemned, is called The Trial.In Twenty Years After, chapter 67 in which
King Charles is condemned is also called The
Trial.Two very similar judicial
circumstances—one in which the Musketeers and the narrator approve, one in
which they do not.Surely he must have
realized the irony?Or was he just
writing these serialized chapters so fast that he didn’t have time to reflect
on whether he was being consistent or not?
Anyway, it
is possible to do a long and lengthy rebuttal of how Dumas portrayed King
Charles and the English Civil War.But
because I doubt whether Dumas is taking his own portrayal seriously, I’m not
sure it’s worth to time and effort. So
I’ll just write the short version here.
When
looking at the origins of the Civil War, it is of course possible to put a
certain amount of blame on both sides.(If King Charles was obstinate. you could make the argument that John
Pym (W) and his parliamentary supporters were equally
so.)
And Oliver
Cromwell himself is difficult to defend, since once Cromwell came into power he
would show himself to be every bit as tyrannically as King Charles had
been.(Although this criticism applies
only to Cromwell himself, and not the other republican supporters, many of whom
did stay true to their ideals.)
But this
doesn’t mean that Charles Stuart was innocent of the charges brought against
him.
Charles
Stuart started the Civil War in England
by attempting an armed coup in which he planned to take control of London and put dissenting
parliamentary members in jail.His
attempted coup-de-etat failed because Pym’s city supporters and Parliamentary
round-heads were too well organized.
Even after
the start of the Civil War was a fait
accompli, there were several points during the course of the
war when the Parliamentary side was exhausted and eager to reach a
compromise.At each of these times,
Charles refused a compromise.He
believed with a fanatic’s zeal in the cause of absolute monarchy, and refused
to accept any compromise that would have ended the war.Because of this, he overplayed his hand many
times even when he could have gotten a peace that was to his advantage.
In Twenty Years After, Charles is portrayed
as an innocent martyr who several times proclaims that his only crime was
fighting for what he believed in.
In fact, it
was not King Charles himself who did the fighting, but the English common
people.It is estimated that 1 in 10 of England’s
population died during these Civil Wars, all because King Charles was too
stubborn to give up the cause of absolute monarchy.
King
Charles refused to accept defeat.When
Parliament captured King Charles’ correspondence after the battle of Naseby, it was discovered that King Charles
had been trying to recruit other foreign armies to his cause (W).King Charles, through his wife Henrietta
Maria, tried to gain the support of the French army to reinstate him on the
English throne.(Dumas actually relates
this in Twenty Years After, but doesn’t
appear to think this is a bad thing.)When Charles’s royalist army was first defeated by the Parliamentary
forces, King Charles made a pact with the Scots and invaded England again.
Surely, a
King who is willing to recruit foreign armies to suppress his own people is not
deserving of much sympathy.
For the
purposes of his drama Dumas compresses the time frame of events.He portrays King Charles as being rushed to
trial and execution after he was handed over by the Scots, but in fact there
was a whole second civil war that broke out that Dumas completely omits from
his narrative.
After he
was captured by Parliament the first time, King Charles still refused to negotiate a settlement with Parliament.He just made empty promises, and eventually
waited Parliament out until the royalist forces were able to recuperate, and
the civil war started all over again.
At the end
of the Second Civil War, England
was exhausted by a decade of war.And
then even after he was defeated a second time, King Charles still refused to
come to an agreement with Parliament.It’s
no wonder Parliament’s patience was exhausted with him at this point, and they
put him on trial.
Historians
seem to differ on whether the outcome of King Charles’ trial was pre-determined
or not.(I’ve read historians on either
side of the question.)But at least some
historians argue that the sentence of death was not an inevitability, and that
even here Parliament was hoping King Charles would negotiate a plea with the
Parliament that would allow them to come to some sort of constitutional
arrangement and keep the figure-head of the King.But by refusing to recognize the court or
enter a plea, King Charles’ guaranteed the outcome would be his own death.
Characterizations
As I
commented in my previous post on The
Three Musketeers, it is interesting to see Athos’s evolution.In The
Three Musketeers, he seemed to be the most cold-hearted of the 4. In Twenty
Years After, he is now consistently the voice for mercy.
It appears
he feels great regret over what he did to Milady at the end of The Three Musketeers, and this has
caused him to change his character.That, and also now he is raising a son, which has also caused him to
re-examine his life.
Of course,
in saying all this I’m giving Dumas the benefit of the doubt and assuming that
this is character evolution, rather than just narrative inconsistency.
In the case
of Porthos, however, I’m not sure the same benefit can be made.
In The Three Musketeers, Porthos was
portrayed as the vain one of the group.In Twenty Years After, Dumas
seems to have changed his mind and portrayed Porthos as the strong, but dumb
member.
(I’d
actually have to go back and re-read The
Three Musketeers to be absolutely confident in this claim.But, as far as memory serves, I don’t
remember Porthos being portrayed as exceptionally strong or stupid in the
original book, so I think his portrayal in Twenty
Years After is inconsistent.)
I’m a big fan of historical
novels, and this historical novel was covering a period of history I was
particularly interested in: The English Civil War, and the Leveller movement.
The Review
Historical fiction comes in all
shapes and sizes. Some books are more
fiction than historical, and some are more historical than fiction.
Most
historical fiction will try and integrate the history into the narrative, but
Lindsey Davis does not feel constrained by this restriction. Large sections of this book will be straight
history, where Davis
will completely forget about her fictional main characters and go off for
several pages explaining the larger historical events that were happening at
the time.
It’s almost
as if someone cut up a history book and interspersed it into a novel.
Purists
will argue that this is not how historical fiction should be written—that the
author should avoid these large information dumps.
But there’s
no actual law against this, and as I read this book I thought, “Well, why not
write a book like this?” If the reader
enjoys following these historical digressions as much as the author does, and
if the reader and the author are both consenting adults, then why not?
And in
fact, it would be hard to imagine a novel of the English Civil War going any
other way. The English Civil War went
through so many phases, and involved so many diverse characters, that it would
be hard to invent any one narrative that could encompass all of this
diversity. The major figures at the
beginning of the war were completely different than the major figures at the
end. (For example, Oliver Cromwell
emerged as the head of the Puritan side at the end of the war, but, as Lindsey
Davis does a good job of illustrating, he was a complete unknown at the
beginning of the war. Any novel that
concentrated on Cromwell’s narrative would have had a hard time integrating all
the major events in the early days of the Civil War, and a novel that
concentrated on the heroes of the early days, like John Pym, would have the
same problem in reverse.)
It goes
without saying then that the ideal reader of this book must share the author’s
love of history, and anyone who doesn’t want to get bogged down in too much
historical detail should stay well away from this book. But if you like history, you’ll find this an
enjoyable read.
I
appreciated having the fictional elements in the book because it gives a sense
of a single story that helps to tie the various elements together. But I almost enjoyed the historical sections
of this book more than the fictional sections.
When she turns her eye to history, Lindsey Davis can write very
well. No doubt her training as a
novelist helps her write very readable history.
The value
of this book is increased when one considers how few readable histories there
are on the English Civil War --at least in my experience I’ve had trouble
tracking down good books on the period.
(If someone knows of any good books out there, let me know.)
When I was
last in a university library, for example, I found that there were lots of
books on the Levellers (W) and the Leveller movement, but almost all
of them written in dry academic tones.
Thomas
Rainborough (W), for example, is one of the more fascinating
figures of the time, but I had trouble finding a readable biography. The books that I could find on him were so
boring that I couldn’t finish them.
Lindsey
Davis, by contrast, does a very good job of integrating the personal histories
of all the major Leveller figures into her book. The rise of Thomas Rainborough
as an important figure in the Leveller movement, and the circumstances
surrounding his assassination, are all nicely laid out in this book. Likewise with the other Leveller figures—John
Lilburne (W), Richard Overton (W), and Edward Sexby
(W)—whose stories are all integrated into this novel.
Besides the
Levellers, Lindsey Davis also includes the other political and religious
radical groups of the time, and does a good job of integrating these movements
into her narrative. The Diggers (W), the Ranters (W), and the Fifth Monarchists (W)
all come to the forefront at one time or another in the book’s narrative.
The book
isn’t perfect by any means. During the
course of its 742 pages, there are all sorts of plot threads that either don’t
go anywhere or don’t pay off as well as they should. And the central romance which makes up the
backbone of the plot I found a bit contrived.
Fortunately,
for those of us who have a low tolerance for sappy romances, the lovers don’t
actually meet until the last 200 pages into the book, so we only have to endure
it for a short time. But I still felt
like the main character Gideon fell in love for absolutely no reason, and in a
way that was completely uncharacteristic for him. Everything we knew about the character seemed
to indicate he was reserved in speech and cautious in love. Then,
for no reason whatsoever, he suddenly becomes smitten with the heroine of the
novel, abandons caution and reserve, and starts sending her long gushing
rambling letters.
But despite
its flaws, the book is good enough. If
you like history, and you like a little bit of fiction mixed in, it’s well
worth the read.
Other Notes
One of the
many interesting little historical details I learned from this book is the mock
epic poem Hudibras (W) by
Samuel Butler. (Samuel Butler himself is
one of the many historical characters who makes an appearance in this book.) On
page 244 Lindsey Davis quotes the opening lines to Hudibras.
When civil dudgeon first grew high,
And men fell out they knew not why?
When hard words, jealousies and
fears,
Set folks together by the ears
And made them fight, like mad or
drunk,
For Dame Religion, as for punk,
Whose honesty they all durst swear
for,
Though not a man of them knew
wherefore,
When Gospel-Trumpeter, surrounded,
With long-ear’d rout, to battle sounded,
And pulpit, drum, ecclesiastick,
Was beat with fist, instead of
stick;
Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling,
And out he rode a-colonelling….
I really
like those lines, because I think it captures very well the religious confusion
of the age, and also infuses the whole English Civil War with an old epic
mystical poetic feeling. (I haven’t read
the rest of Hudibras, and maybe I
never will, but I really like those opening lines.)
Connections With Other
Books I’ve Been Reading
I first
heard of the Leveller movement from Chris Harman’s A People’s History of the World. (Harman gives a
Marxist economic interpretation of the English Civil War, as opposed to the
more religious interpretation emphasized in the above poem Hudibras. I think both
interpretations are possible.)
David
Starkey gives a very readable account of the main events of the Civil War in Monarchy.
As always
when comparing two different authors on the same historical event, it’s
interesting to see their different interpretations.Lindsey Davis thinks Oliver Cromwell’s main motivation for dismissing
Parliament was Parliament’s undemocratic intention to bypass elections and
legislate themselves as members in perpetuity.
David Starkey thinks Oliver Cromwell was primarily motivated by
Parliament’s plan to revoke his position as general of the New Model Army.
Free Born John by Pauline Gregg gives one of the few readable accounts I could find of John
Lilburne and the Leveller movement.
And The Butterfly in Amber is
another book of historical fiction dealing with England
during the PuritanCommonwealth period.
Other Links
* If you
like mixing your history lessons with Irish folk rock (and why not?) then A Curse Upon You Oliver Cromwell by the
Pogues is a fun listen [LINK HERE]. (Cromwell’s invasion of Ireland is covered in Lindsey Davis’s
book.)
* I also really
enjoyed Mark Steel’s historical lecture series, and his program on
Oliver Cromwell is worth watching [LINK HERE].
* If you
can track down a copy, the four part BBC series The Devil’s Whore (W) also does a good job of introducing
the main figures in the Leveller and Digger movement. [YOUTUBE COPY HERE]
In the
interview accompanying the audio book of Monarchy,
David Starkey once said, “People often forget that it was the English, not the
French or the Americans, who first abolished the institution of monarchy and
established a republic” (quoting from memory—not verbatim).
This was
completely wrong. It ignores the DutchRepublics,
the various republican Italian city states, and the English republican
experiment. (Admittedly it was a short
lived experiment, but the fact remains that England was a republic for a short
time in the 17th century.)
I blame my
previous ignorance on the American educational system.
Speaking of
which, another thing that often gets completely left out of the history books
is that the English Civil War had an affect on the American colonies when the
Royalist/Puritan fighting carried over to the British colonial
possessions. See Wikipedia article on
the English Civil War in America
here [W].
I’m not
sure why this is left out of the American history textbooks. Perhaps because of the American habit of
writing history as if history didn’t begin until 1776. Or perhaps it is because American history
textbooks often act as if we exist in isolation from the rest of the world.
To me, one
of the more interesting facts is that one-sixth of the Puritans in Massachusetts actually returned to England to fight for the Puritan
cause in the Civil War. (In fact Thomas
Rainborough’s family had Massachusetts
connections, something Lindsey Davis mentions in her book.)
Before I get into the actual book itself, let me start with the subject matter and how I became interested in it.
I first became interested in “The Levellers” when reading “A People’s History of the World” by Chris Harman.
Now, I know I had a number of negative things to say about that book, but in spite of all its flaws there are one or two things Chris Harman does a pretty good job on.
One theme that Chris Harman does a good job of emphasizing is that in any era of history, the bottom rungs of society have never really accepted that their lot is simply to be poor and miserable.
This is notable, because it is in contrast to another view of history: that before the enlightenment philosophers and French Revolution got the mobs all riled up, the idea of political and economic equality never really occurred to people. I had one Latin Professor at college who I remember once espoused this view to us at length, and was at great pains to emphasize to us that we could not try and understand the ancient world by using our modern ideas of equality. Sure, there had occasionally been peasant rebellions and slave revolts, but this did not mean that people like Spartacus believed in equality as a philosophical principle. Spartacus and his like were simply rebelling to improve their own lives. No one back then, not even the lower classes, could comprehend the idea that everyone should be equal.
Harman, I think, does a fairly good job of demolishing this point of view by showing that throughout history the lower classes have not only fought for equality, but (in the instances where their writings have survived) spoken and written in favor of equality. (This is also in accordance with Chomsky’s view that human beings have a natural desire for freedom and equality, and they don’t have to be taught about these things by philosophers.)
To support this view Harman covers numerous rebellions and movements, but one of the more interesting movements that Harman touches on briefly is the Leveller Movement, which occurred in England during the 1640s—something that had been left out of my history education completely, but which I found fascinating. At the time, there was a civil war going on between the Royalists and the Parliamentarians. The Parliamentarians wanted to establish a republican system of government, but one in which only wealth land-owners could vote.
However within the ranks of the common people and soldiery, there emerged several more radical egalitarian movements, such as the Leveller Movement, which believed in universal suffrage and the removal of all social distinctions. Although ultimately unsuccessful, the Leveller’s had great influence in the Parliamentarian army, and for a while were a real threat to Oliver Cromwell and the Grandees (as Parliament's leaders were known). Cromwell and Ireton were even forced to debate the Leveller’s at the Putney debates.
I was curious to find out more about the Levellers after this, but living in Japan at the time I did not have access to a decent English library. And so I did the standard geek thing and wasted a lot of time reading about them on the Internet.
Wikipedia alerted me to the fact that the Leveller Movement had recently been the subject of a British television mini-series “The Devil’s Whore (W).”
At the time, there were several copies of “The Devil’s Whore” up on YouTube (and they might still be up for all I know, if you want to try and watch them yourself) so I tracked down the various parts and sat through all 4 hours of it.
“The Devil’s Whore” retells Leveller history as a sappy romance saga (fellows should be warned ahead of time) and it does get pretty sappy at points. But it also did do a great job of introducing me to Leveller figures such as Edward Sexby, Thomas Rainsborough, and John Lilburne, and for this reason alone I give it a cautious recommendation if you can track down a copy.
Now that I’m back in an English speaking country, and have access to the University library, I decided to try and seek out some actual books on the Levellers.
Once I actually got deep into the library, it turns out that there are quite a number of books dealing with the Leveller movement—about 3 or 4 rows shelves. Some of these books are a bit older, and some of them are published by University presses, but they are out there if you bother to track them down.
Many of them are written in a dry and stuffy academic tone. And a lot of them are analytical history, intent on analyzing the Leveller movement and its causes rather than telling a story.
When I’m reading history for pleasure, I always prefer a book that reads like a story. So I tried to find the most readable book on the subject. After flipping through several books, it looked like “Free-Born John” by Pauline Gregg was the most readable of the bunch.
For the amateur historian, this is a good armchair history. It’s not the best written book I’ve ever come across (parts of it are a bit dry) but for the most part it’s a very smooth read and, like any good armchair history book, reads like a story.
While reading this book, I was a little bit surprised at just how much information existed about John Lilburne’s life. Considering, for example, we know next to nothing about Shakespeare’s life (Lilburne’s near contemporary) I had assumed that historical records for the common people were just lacking for this period. But not so for everyone obviously. Partly because Lilburne (a shameless self-promoter) wrote so much about himself in his published pamphlets, the author is able to reconstruct a pretty detailed history of his life.
But that’s not to say there aren’t a few gaps from time to time, and occasionally the author has to resort to sentences like “It is easy to imagine John Lilburne might have also been with the crowds on that day.” In fact, the first 100 pages or so are filled with speculation about what John Lilburne probably did, almost certainly did, and could not have failed to do.
Also during the first 100 pages the author will fill in some of the gaps in the narrative by writing about the intellectual climate at the time, or even long boring descriptions of what London was like during this period.
Another problem, again not wholly the author’s fault, is the somewhat repetitive nature of John Lilburne’s tale. Much of the book is simply recounting the cat and mouse game between the Leveller’s printing press and the authorities. The Levellers will publish an illegal pamphlet, the authorities will try suppress it and find out who is responsible, the Leveller’s will publish another pamphlet, and the cycle will repeat again. It’s interesting to a point, but some of this might have been better off summarized. (Although reading a book like this does make you appreciate the importance of living in a time and country where freedom of speech is protected.)
Also like any martyr to a cause, John Lilburne spends a lot of his life locked away in jail. And it’s hard to write an interesting biography of someone lingering in jail for years. The author I think does the best that can be expected under the circumstances, and writes about the pamphlets Lilburne smuggled out of the jail, the various friends and enemies he made in the jail, and his ability to sometimes influence outside events from within the jail.
Often, given the turmoil of the period, what is happening outside of the jail is much more interesting than what is happening inside, and the author will jump back and forth between the greater Leveller Movement and Lilburne.
However there are plenty of parts of Lilburne’s life that are fascinating.
The book is also filled with plenty of scenes of court room drama, and because every time Lilburne was up before a court he wrote long pamphlets about his experiences, the entire proceedings are usually documented in surprising detail, and the author has plenty to draw on here for details.
The ever changing relationship between Cromwell and Lilburne is well documented in this book as well. As a member of Parliament, Cromwell actually starts out as an admirer of Lilburne, and is instrumental in freeing him from his imprisonment. As Cromwell becomes more powerful, however, he becomes obsessed with suppressing Lilburne and the Levellers. However, as the book shows, Lilburne and Cromwell still retain some fondness for each other even as enemies. When he perceives Lilburne is no longer a threat, Cromwell is even capable of acts of kindness towards Lilburne and his wife, for which Lilburne writes Cromwell letters gushing with thankfulness.
Throughout the book, John Lilburne comes out as someone who is remarkably dedicated to his cause, and can also be remarkably stubborn in pursuit of his ideals, refusing to be bought out or to compromise. However the author does not gloss over his faults either. She shows him as occasionally egotistical and a self promoter. Also, although Lilburne made his name standing up for the poor and dispossessed, there is one unfortunate incident when he appears to have acted harshly as a landlord towards his tenants, and Pauline Gregg dutifully records this.
And although largely sympathetic to the aims of the greater Leveller Movement, the author also points out some of their ideological shortcomings and inconsistencies. For example, the program which the Levellers introduced and petitioned the government for is hard to classify in terms of ideology. They wanted more government interference in cases where the poor would benefit from government involvement, and less government interference otherwise. They appealed to ancient Anglo-Saxon law in cases where it supported their cause, and appealed to the will of the people in all other cases. Basically their platform was designed to help the poorest members of society, but that was the only consistent thing about it.
(Although this is probably not unique to the Leveller Movement. Probably most political parties have a platform that was designed first to benefit its supporting members, and then try and backfit an ideology onto it afterwards. The same could probably be said about today’s modern Democratic and Republican parties. For example you could really do your head in trying to figure out if Republicans support more or less government interference.)
[An interesting side note here on another of my interests—the history of anarchism. According to this BBC radio show “In Our Time: The history of Anarchism" (link here)--which is totally worth listening to if you’ve got a free minute—the origins of the modern anarchist movement date back to the Levellers. Not that the Levellers actually were anarchists, but they were accused of anarchism by Cromwell and the Grandees because of their constant appeals to the will of the people. This had the effect of putting the word into the political discourse so that later on, in the 19th century, theorists like Proudhon and Bakunin would take what had previously been a derogatory word and use it as a label for their own political philosophy. Or at least so the BBC claims (this may be a slightly Anglo-centric way of viewing what was primarily a Continental movement. I’m not sure the French Proudhon or the Russian Bakunin really read a lot about the English Civil Wars). But for what it’s worth, Pauline Gregg does record the accusations of anarchism used against the Leveller movement.]
Pauline Gregg also takes care to emphasize that the Leveller movement was not socialist, but held private property as a sacred right even while emphasizing political equality. Gregg contrasts the Leveller movement with other groups at the time such as the Diggers (who were actually early Agrarian Communists) and wonders whether the Levellers would have had more success if they had managed to form an alliance with the Diggers.
[Although I should note that apparently not everyone is clear on this point. I've recently had discussions with members of the Socialist Party who have apparently been reading different books than me ("Cromwell and Communism" (A)) and they believe that the Levellers were actually early communists. But my own readings on the internet have confirmed what Pauline Gregg asserts.]
Reading about John Lilburne and the Leveller Movement, a few thoughts did strike while reading this book. I'll just jot some of them down briefly.
1). It was interesting how Christianity was used by all sides on the English Civil War, both those fighting for repressive government and those fighting for people's rights both clearly believe that they had God on their side. I suspect this was probably partly because in the pre-enlightenment era, people couldn't conceive of a world without religion, and so religious terminology was all they knew. I suspect a lot of these progressive movements would use more secular language if the same battles were being re-fought today. But there's no denying that John Lilburne and the other Leveller leaders were just as deeply religious as the Royalists and Grandees they were fighting against.
2). The success of the Leveller Movement was that it so thoroughly infiltrated the rank and file of the army. Because most of the common soldiers were attracted to the ideals of the Levellers, the movement had power.
In fact, if you think about it, just about every successful revolution is successful because it wins over the army. (French Revolution, Paris 1848, Paris Commune, Russia 1917, Germany 1919, et cetera).
The lessons of history are clear that any revolutionary movement which hopes to succeed must involve itself in campaigns for soldiers' rights. This is something that the left has perhaps been neglecting in recent decades, and indeed it is a difficult balancing act to be against the imperialist nature of the modern army, but still trying to recruit its soldiers. But I think it's an issue that deserves more thought than it has been given in recent years.
3). However, despite having support from the rank and file of the army, as well as the London citizens, the Leveller Movement was ultimately defeated. As I was reading this book, I was constantly wondering how they allowed themselves to be defeated despite having so much support, but, as Pauline Gregg tells it, in the end most of the soldiers proved reluctant to mutiny against their established leaders, and the few mutinies that broke out were easily dealt with.
This is probably another all too common theme in revolutionary history. People are so used to submitting to authority figures, that often the movements don't realize how powerful they really are.
One last note:
This book is a bit older—it was published in 1961. I’m sure the history remains the same, but I’m told that in Britain interest in the Leveller movement and the Leveller martyrs revived during the 1970s, and so perhaps a more recent book might have more to say about the Leveller legacy.
