Author: Tony Rossell

By the Numbers: Numeracy, Religion, and the Quantitative Transformation of Early Modern England by Jessica Marie Otis. Review by Tony Rossell

Posted on by Tony Rossell

By the Numbers: Numeracy, Religion, and the Quantitative Transformation of Early Modern England by Jessica Marie Otis successfully presents both a descriptive history of numeracy in early modern England and the cultural impact of the emergence of numbers and calculations on the people and their faith during this era. She describes in the book the “ revolutionary shift in the way people used numbers during the early modern period” (13)

According to her GMU profile, Dr. Jessica Otis is an Associate Professor of History and Associate Director of the Roy Rosenzweig Center for History and New Media. Her background supports her qualifications for this publication. She received an MS in Mathematics and a PhD in History from the University of Virginia, and spent four years at Carnegie Mellon University Libraries as a Postdoctoral Fellow and Digital Humanities Specialist. Her ongoing research focuses on the Death by Numbers project, which seeks to transcribe and publish the Bills of Mortality to investigate how experiences of plague outbreaks connect with mentality among the people of early modern England.

In writing the book, Otis draws from many contemporary sources, including early modern math textbooks, diaries, sermons, pamphlets, and almanacs.  To supplement this primary data, her notes and bibliography cite a broad range of current research and historical writing.

The first two chapters do an excellent job of explaining the history and the evolution of the operational use of numbers in early modern England. This includes outlining the three categories of methods for counting and calculation used in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Otis breaks these down into three categories: the performative, object-based, and written symbols. The performative details how words and gestures were employed to allow people to count and calculated independent of physical aids, primarily focused on using 10 as the base associated with finger counting. With the object-based level of numeracy, people took the next conceptual step, relying on tally sticks and counters as tools for arithmetic. These methods began to be replaced in the eighteenth century with written symbols using words and both Roman and Arabic numerals.

As Arabic numerals became more common, Otis challenged historians such as Karl Menninger, who argued that the transition occurred because these symbols made calculation easier. She maintains that men and women initially “adopted Arabic numerals not for calculating but for recording” (44), with the qualification that, because Arabic numerals could be manipulated more easily, Roman numerals and tally sticks continued to be used for sensitive record-keeping. Ultimately, Otis shows that the opportunity to use Arabic numerals for both record-keeping and calculation tipped the scales in favor of this system.

Beyond the operational and adoption history of numeracy, the book shines in explaining the cultural shifts that numbers brought about in early modern England. Starting in chapter three, Otis addresses the cultural implications of the growing use of Arabic numerals for recording and calculation. For example, she notes that historians writing about education in the early modern period generally emphasize “the lack of a universal mathematical education” (80). However, Otis counters this view by arguing that “beginning in the 1580s, petty schools increasingly became a source of education in numeracy, arithmetic, and elementary accounting” (81). This change in the educational system was supported by the proliferation of textbooks and tutors, which hastened the overall adoption of Arabic numerals. She also draws on Mordecai Fingold’s research to support the teaching of mathematics, particularly at the university level. Likewise, the ultimate success of reforming the English calendar came after years of debate to address the “mathematical inconvenience” (114) of the Julian system. Math prevailed over the religious and political objections.

At an even deeper cultural level in chapter 5, Otis explains the practical implications of how faith, gaming, insurance, and tracking the plague affected society. Here, she highlights how By the Numbers produced a “quantitative transformation of early modern England, particularly its relationship with numeracy and religion” (11). She offers particular clarity and insight into how the clergy and Christian theology responded to the question of God’s providence and natural law, as seen in the debate between James Balmford and Thomas Gataker. The traditional view holds that God’s hand directs every event and interaction. However, calculations now showed predictable, quantifiable natural laws. For many, the resolution to this question was that “God employed intermediary forces, including so-called laws of nature. However, God was not in any way limited by these laws. He could, and did, violate them at will and function as a primary cause of earthly events” (120).

One area for future historical exploration of the implications of mathematical quantification for religion may be to assess its role in the emergence of the theology known as deism. This view holds that God created the universe to run according to natural laws but does not intervene in its daily operations, much like a watchmaker who builds a device and allows it to run on its own.

Finally, in chapter six, Otis explores both arithmetic and religion and examines the use of census data. In Old Testament times, King David’s taking a census brought punishment upon the nation of Israel. Once again, in early modern England, there was a potential conflict between numbering and faith. However, in this case, many clergy were able to distinguish the English census from the one in the Bible. As one pastor described it, David’s census was done “out of vain and ambitious ends” (142). In later years, census data went beyond serving fiscal and military purposes and also became a source for governing, known as political arithmetic.

By the Numbers presents an accessible history for both general readers and professional historians. The book offers a helpful perspective on how numeracy developed over time and was used by ordinary people in early modern England. More importantly, it highlights the cultural transformation it brought about in English society. A standout feature is Otis’s clear demonstration that men and women in the early modern period “developed a numerical worldview that existed within a framework defined by Christianity” (157). From much of our reading, including works by James Clark, Mark Stoyle, Lucy Mauffat Kaufman, Ian Gentles, and Andrea McKenzie, we see the central role that Christianity played in the day-to-day thoughts and actions of the people of this time. It makes sense, then, that the use and understanding of numbers and arithmetic would touch on people’s faith, bringing both challenges and opportunities. In her book, Otis captures and sensitively explores this transformation.

Review of The New Model Army: Agent of Revolution by Ian Gentles, by Tony Rossell

Posted on by Tony Rossell

Dr. Ian Gentle’s The New Model Army: Agent of Revolution is a political and military history of the turbulent years of the English Civil War and Revolution.

Gentles sets the goal for this narrative history as “to listen to the voices of those who lived through the Revolution, to attend to what they said and wrote, and to refrain from subjecting them to ‘the enormous condescension of posterity.’” In doing so, he provides a balanced view of The New Model Army, highlighting its role in ending absolute monarchy, advocating for democracy, and supporting unbiased legal reform, while also acknowledging the challenges presented by a standing army, the Protectorate, and ultimately a “naked military dictatorship.” (297) When using the term, “the enormous condescension of posterity,” he adopts it from historian E.P. Thompson, who warns against judging previous generations by modern standards. Gentles succeeds in offering an unprejudiced view of the New Model Army.

Perhaps an alternative title for the book could be The Rise and Fall of the New Model Army. Gentles traces the army’s beginnings with an ordinance by the Commons on January 28, 1645, through the early victories in 1645 and 1646, the second Civil War, the Regicide of Charles I, the Levellers’ mutinies, the conquests of Ireland and Scotland, the Protectorate, the return of the monarchy under Charles II, and The New Model Army’s laying down its arms under the Act of Indemnity in 1660.

Dr. Ian Gentles is a Professor of History at Tyndale University College in Toronto, Ontario. He earned his Ph.D. from the University of London, England. His specialization is in British history from 1500 to 1800. His other books include Oliver Cromwell: God’s Warrior and the English Revolution (2011), The English Revolution and the Wars in the Three Kingdoms, 1638-1652 (2007), and Soldiers, Writers, and Statesmen of the English Revolution (1998). For the book, Gentles relies on primary sources from the Oxford archives and the British Library. The critical printed sources are thousands of pamphlets and newspaper articles, also housed in the British Library. However, for this narrative history, Gentles relies heavily on secondary sources.

Unlike the social history readings in our course by Dyer, Kaufman, and Mansell, Gentles presents his top-down history, focusing on the major political and military figures, starting with Charles I, where he states, “It was the king who fired the opening shot in England when he declared war on Parliament.” (2) He recognizes the pressure from citizens and lower-ranking soldiers who, at different times, initiated and demanded change throughout the period. However, these actors remain unnamed. Instead of using names, Gentles refers to them as numbers. For example, reporting the initial size of the army at 20,000 and those killed in the New Model Army’s battles. Even in reviewing the mutinies at Ware, Whalley’s Regiment, and Burford, some higher-ranking leaders were named, but the lower-level soldiers were simply referred to as “agitators,” “ringleaders,” “rank and file,” or “mutineers.”  After suppressing these mutinies, “the army’s rank and file never found their political voice again.” (237) The officer corps would drive the political changes.

Perhaps the most consistent theme throughout his history is religion. Gentles avoids theological debates and instead explores the motivating power of the New Model Army’s religious beliefs. “The religious energy that imbued the army affected both its fortunes on the battlefield and its relations with civilians.” (59) However, beyond unifying the army, faith became the army’s goal to enforce on society. Gentles notes that with the expulsion of the Rump Parliament in 1648, Cromwell’s defense was “I have sought the Lord” as his justification for his military takeover. And the army’s support followed, with Gentles stating their motivation was that “if the Revolution was to be safe, the godly would have to govern for the foreseeable future.” (250)

For the most part, Gentles avoids engaging in the historiographical debates about this period. One exception is when he discusses the regicide of Charles I. He notes that “A younger group of historians has recently argued that neither the purged Parliament, nor the army, nor the High Court of Justice wanted the king’s death.” (148) Michael Bradick presented this case of an unintended regicide in God’s Fury: A New History of the English Civil War. To counter this, Gentles states that “a number of scholars have rejected this revisionist interpretation” (149), citing in his footnotes that the idea was challenged by Mark Kishlansky in his article “Mission Impossible: Charles I, Oliver Cromwell and the regicide.” Gentles concludes this discussion by saying that Cromwell, starting in 1648, was determined to see the king killed because he was “a man whose heart God has hardended.” (149) Certainly, if he were to dive into historiographical controversies, it could take over the book.

Looking at the broader picture, Gentles’ book emphasizes the chain reaction that can occur once a conflict starts. What began as a Civil War, he argues, evolves into a revolution. Therefore, the subtitle of his book describes the New Model Army as the “Agent of Revolution.” However, at some point, the revolution must come to an end. The army that was “Fired by revolutionary zeal” eventually became “tamely submitted to the return of the son of the tyrant they had vanquished only eleven years before.” (319)

In conclusion, Gentles’ The New Model Army offers a comprehensive, balanced, and accessible account of the Civil War and Revolutionary era in English history. He does not judge the major figures of this time nor excuse their actions, but allows their behavior to speak for itself without modern bias. It is notable that some people today cannot avoid this reinterpretation. For example, Buchholz in Early Modern England recounts how Margaret Thatcher spoke at the Bicentenary of the French Revolution, saying that “Britain was great precisely because it had never had a revolution.” Buchholz adds that “British attitudes to the events of the 1640s and 1650s are conflicted and ambiguous . . . there was no clear ‘right’ side for politically correct moderns to embrace.” (250) Gentles avoids these traps.

 

Kaufman, A People’s Reformation: Building the English Church in the Elizabethan Parish

Posted on by Tony Rossell

Lucy Moffat Kaufman’s A People’s Reformation: Building the English Church in the Elizabethan Parish presents a new perspective on the roles of local parishes and their members as contributing agents to the English Reformation.

To make her case, she challenges the traditional historiography that portrays the English Reformation as a top-down process, in which the church and the Crown impose the theology of the Thirty-Nine Articles with “an iron fist,” demanding “strict conformity.” She maintains that these histories ignore social history and the essential role of people at the grassroots level in establishing the Reformation in England.

Instead of the top-down history, Kaufman seeks to present a unique perspective on the symbiotic relationships between the Crown and the People. She states that her book argues that the Reformation was mandated by the state but built by its people (p. 22). She further maintains that “Only by joining together these two disparate historiographies can we begin to approach an understanding of this fundamental shift in English society” (p. 16). In other words, Kaufman maintains that this new reformed church was built both from the top down and the bottom up (p. 18).

However, her efforts to balance the state’s and the people’s roles are in stark tension throughout the book. Her dilemma is twofold. First, how to counter the top-down authority in traditional history, and second, how far she can push the boundaries to support the people’s agency and impact on the English Reformation.

Before addressing how she supported her thesis, let’s first examine some of the book’s methods and sources. Kaufman organized her book in a traditional topical or thematic structure, focusing on specific subjects rather than presenting a chronological narrative. Her thematic approach is well-suited to in-depth analysis of the social and political trends she examines.

Her topics are presented as individual chapters. In the chapter “Bounding,” she examines identification and visitation in the parish. In the chapter “Policing,” she explores the growth of the churchwardens’ power. In the chapter on “Funding,” she examines the parish’s finances. In “Taxing,” she explores the administration of tithes in the parish. Finally, in “Receiving,” she looks at the practices surrounding the sacraments, particularly communion.

In researching each of these themes, Kaufman relies heavily on primary sources. Accordingly, given her focus, she maintains that “As much as possible, I have tried to draw from primary source materials across the country” (p. 295). The vast majority of the archival and printed material is contemporary with the period covered.

Kaufman limits her use of secondary sources. She notes that most histories have examined the parliamentary and ecclesiastical elite while ignoring the experiences of the broader population. She also questions the usefulness of social histories, arguing that they often sideline religion (p. 15).

With this background, let’s first examine how Kaufman responded to traditional historiographical views of the English Reformation.

When she comments on the modern historical record, she often treats it as a straw man and challenges its interpretation. In these instances, she does not name the historian; instead, she simply states that she disagrees with the historiography. This silencing of opposing views might be the weakest element of her book.

Several examples appear throughout the book. For example, regarding the historiographical record of churchwardens, she notes that they are unsatisfactory, writing, “While the figures of churchwardens are found scattered throughout the historiography of the Reformation . . . where it exists, tends to focus on its long history, emphasizing either its late-medieval origins or its seventeenth-century articulations” (p. 75 online).

Regarding parish buildings, she writes, the historiography makes dire claims, while “the archival evidence is quite startling. Where we might expect vast swathes of crumbling churches… contemporary accounts paint a far more vibrant and robust picture” (p. 113 online).

When discussing the economic health of an Elizabethan parish, she notes that “Despite the… gloomy perspective of modern historiography, the economic realities of the Elizabethan church were far from a disaster… On the whole, though, the church coped rather well” (p. 179).

Finally, in discussing excommunication, she argues that the “traditional historiographical position” says the discipline lacks enforcement. But Kaufman counters this view by simply stating that “more recent research has emphasized the efficacy of such sentences” (p. 233).

By fully disclosing and countering these alternative traditional histories, she might have strengthened her overall arguments in the book.

The second challenge Kaufman faced was advocating for the people’s role in the English Reformation without minimizing the state’s and the church’s obvious roles. Throughout her book, Kaufman worked hard to support her complementary thesis that both had a role in the Reformation. She attempts to maintain a careful balance, arguing that the people’s response to the Reformation was not primarily a top-down process driven by obedience to the Crown and the religious hierarchy, but also a bottom-up process reflecting the people’s willingness and active participation in the Reformation.

To achieve this, she carefully and consistently describes the joint role of the church and the people, for example, by writing, “despite the strict conformity demanded by the church and crown, the lived experiences and choices of the English people fundamentally shaped the English Reformation” (p. 5).

Clearly, the Crown launched the English Reformation, but to underscore the people’s role, she notes the duration of the change. She says, “The transformation of the parish took years, even decades, to put into place. Change trickled in over time” (p. 245). This longer view of history provides more strength to the later involvement of the parish.

Another example of this historical balancing act appears in her discussion of churchwardens. She acknowledges that the role and many of its responsibilities had existed for a long time, noting “To be sure, the pre-Reformation model of churchwardens had included some degree of moral regulation” (p. 59) and “By the time of the Henrician Reformation, churchwardens had been overseeing the parish for 275 years” (p. 54). However, she argues that by the 1550s the office was fully vested with the power and the requirement to report moral disorder, stating, “Wardens were no longer to be mere administrative, but also arbiters of discipline.” Furthermore, by 1571, the Church’s Canons even required churchwardens to regulate the clergy (pp. 58-59).

When it comes to parish finances, we again see the need for balance and the interplay between the authority of the state and the participation of the parish. Kaufman notes that “The central authority issues requirements and polices compliance, but the operations of parish finance were dominated by the decisions and needs of the individual parishes” (p. 133).

Finally, Kaufman points to the Ecclesiastica Census of 1603, which highlighted the extent of most citizens’ compliance with the Reformation’s communion requirements. Communion was perhaps the most sensitive and significant theological issue. The Census found that of the 2.25 million parishioners included, only 8,500 were listed as recusants (p. 219). These findings would certainly affirm the people’s full compliance with the English Reformation, but they also represent data nearly half a century after the beginning of this transformation.

Stepping back from these two challenges, it is likely that the book would have been strengthened by directly giving voice to the traditional historiographical views and challenging their conclusions. When it came to supporting the dual roles of the state and the people, she avoided overstating the people’s role and struck the balance necessary to make her case credible and acceptable.

Mark Stoyle, A Murderous Midsummer: The Western Rising of 1549

Posted on by Tony Rossell

In his book The Western Rising of 1549, Mark Stoyle explores an event that history has largely overlooked, offering a sympathetic remembrance of the rebels who took part in the rising, which came close to dramatically transforming English history.

Stoyle describes the book’s simple aim as “to provide a new history of the Western Rising, and to consider the disturbances afresh” (p. 3, all based on the paperback version of the book).

Stoyle is eminently qualified to write this book. Born and raised in Mid-Devon, he describes himself as “a proud West Country man.” Early in his career, he conducted archaeological work in Exeter, where much of the story is set. He serves as a professor of early modern history at the University of Southampton and is the author of seven books. For Western Rising, he won the Devon History Society Book of the Year Award in 2023.

Stoyle presents his work as a chronological narrative history. He divides the book into three sections: The Background, The Rising, and The Aftermath. The chapters in these sections include clear signposts for the story’s progression, with titles such as Foreshocks, Escalation, and Retribution.

For sources, Stoyle provides an extensive list of manuscripts, court records, and letters. One of the challenges in writing the book was the limited number of eyewitness accounts. Many of the rebel documents were destroyed. John Hooker provided one contemporary source on which Stoyle relied. Hooker was from Exeter and “the most influential historian” and the “chief primary source on which all subsequent histories of the rebellion have been based.” However, as a loyalist, Stoyle recognizes him as a partisan source (p. 83).

After Hooker, there followed a historical silence, with the exception of William Hal’s history in 1680 (p. 126). The history was picked up again in the foundational work of Francis Rose-Troup’s 1913 book, which Stoyle says “has remained the standard history of the rising.” (p. 126) He supports and amplifies her central thesis “that religion lay at the very heart of the Western Rising.” (p. 294) He also acknowledges Aubrey Greenwood’s 1990 PhD dissertation, which challenged the traditional view that the Western Rising was primarily a “priestly plot”. He argued that Devon and Cornwall residents rebelled voluntarily to defend traditional religious practices.[i]

An example of this relative silence appears in the book by Robert Buchholz and Newton Key, Early Modern England 1485 – 1714, where the Western Rising merits only a few sentences. Summed up with, “At about this time, a second royal army put down the Western rebellion at Sampford Courtenay in a similarly brutal fashion.” [1]

In reviewing The Western Rising, one can argue that Stoyle’s goal is to push back against the historical royalists’ view of the rebellion by offering a sympathetic, almost apologetic view of the rebels and by highlighting the contingency of what almost changed the course of English history.

One can find numerous instances of Stoyle’s sympathetic view of the rebels. Indeed, in many places in the book, Stoyle notes that “writers, both at the time of the rising itself and ever since, have been far more scathing both about the protesters and about their aims.” (p. 289) Instead, in his view, he describes the rebels as “the brave men and women who gather there to defend both their faith and their accustomed way of life.” (p. 297)

For example, Stoyle presents a conflicting view of the Crown’s assessment of Body’s murder as a personal attack by his enemies (p. 71) and of the priest, Harper, as an instigator of the conflict (p. 89). He blames the likely first shots, fired by Carew’s followers, which killed ten protesters, for lighting the match that “supercharged” the confrontation and launched the rebellion (p. 103). At the culmination of the fighting, Stoyle recognizes that “the rebels’ desperate courage had proved of little avail against the superior training and equipment of the royal forces” (p. 200). Finally, during the trial of the rebel leaders, Stoyle rejects the widely promoted claims that the rebellion was class warfare, saying, “there is not a shred of evidence to suggest that the West Country insurgents had called for the killing of gentlemen” (p. 279). He insists that their faith was the prime motivator.

In some ways, Stoyle’s sympathetic view of the rebels may have been swimming against the tide of contemporary historical and social opinion. In an interview (starting at minute 26), James Clark describes a prejudice against the Catholic influence in England. He relates that as an undergraduate, he was surprised by the history that portrayed Edward as good, Mary as bad, and Elizabeth as better. He said he was stunned by how this ran through all the historiography and that there were no voices challenging it. He claimed that the contrast reduced the history to an old-fashioned 1950s Western in which the bad guys wear black hats and the good guys wear white hats.[2]

A further theme supporting the rebels and his view of what almost happened is the contingency he sees in the rebellion’s possible outcome. Indeed, the rebel effort “came much closer than generally realized to turning the world upside down.” (p. 7) At the decisive Battle of Fenny Bridges, Stoyle notes that Lord Russell’s army was in an extremely vulnerable position. Hooker notes that a fresh supply of Cornish troops arrived just after the battle. (p.179) If they had arrived just a day or two earlier, Stoyle argues, they might have turned the battle in the rebels’ favor. (p. 293)

For an American audience, the impact of the contingency Stoyle describes is similar to that of the historian James McPherson, who wrote about how the world would have changed if Pickett’s Charge had succeeded at the Battle of Gettysburg.

In the end, there were few, if any, winners in the Western Rising. The rebel leaders were executed, and Somerset’s role was sunset by Dudley. The conflict between Protestants and Catholics would continue. Nevertheless, Mark Stoyle’s retelling and reframing of the faith, suffering, and lives bring them back to life.

[1] Bucholz, Early Modern England 1485-1714.

[2] James Clark: The Dissolution of the Monasteries. YouTube Video.

[i] AI results for Aubrey Greenwood, Western Rising Prayer Book Rebellion.