bluuebunny/crossref_metadata_2025 huggingface dataset:
Sir Lewis Namier Again Considered
Authors: Mansfield Harvey C.
Published: February 2004

Walcott's critique raises three general issues: whether Sir Lewis Namier thought that the foremost task of an historian is the destruction of legends; whether he tried to write the whole truth about the eighteenth century; and whether anyone can properly be designated a professional historian or professional political scientist. Some of Walcott's particular criticisms can be answered in the discussion of these three issues.

The first issue is whether Namier thought that the foremost task of an historian is the destruction of legends. At the beginning of his critique, Walcott doubts it, but does not deny it. Yet at the end of his critique, he summarizes “what Namier did do” as the removal of certain misconceptions about eighteenth-century politics; these misconceptions Namier called “legends,” according to Walcott. The misconceptions consist in analyzing eighteenth century politics in nineteenth-century terms, but they are not confined to nineteenth-century historians. They are held by twentieth-century historians as well, in fact, by all historians of the ante-Namier period, as Walcott calls it. Namier shows how much contempt he has for these historians and their legends in a sentence which cannot be considered innocuous. Namier says: “… I hardly remember having come across any contemporary materials, or any book reproducing such materials, which did not contribute something to my information.” Since “contemporary” means “eighteenth-century” here, Namier says by implication that no later ante-Namier historian has contributed to his information, unless he has reproduced eighteenth-century materials.
The Irish Church and the Reform Ministries
Authors: Condon Mary D.
Published: February 2004

The Whig ministries of 1830-34 were faced with problems in regard to foreign affairs and parliamentary reform that were almost certain to reveal differences of philosophy within the Cabinets, yet it was on the Irish issues, more particularly that of the Episcopal Reformed Church of Ireland, that the ministries divided and broke. It is generally known that questions concerning the revenues of the Irish Church drove Stanley, the future Conservative Prime Minister, out of the Whig Party, enabled the House of Lords to rally after the Reform Bill and block measures passed by the Commons, and gave William IV an opportunity to dismiss a ministry which still retained the confidence of the lower house and replace it by a Government of his own choice. There is less knowledge, however, of the specific issues behind these events, and of the peculiarities of the Irish Church which hampered an easy solution of its problems. A study of both will serve to illuminate the conflict of parties and of personalities in the first five years of the reform age.

From the utilitarian point of view, the temporalities of the Church were absurdly large. Containing only 852,064 members — less than there were in the see of Durham alone — it had a total of twenty-two bishops, including four archbishops. Many holders of benefices had no religious duties, nor, indeed, even a church in which to perform the one service required by their appointment; where parish duties were necessary, they were frequently discharged by a curate who received only a small fraction of the income of the incumbent.
Joseph Chamberlain and the Jameson Raid: a Bibliographical Survey
Authors: Holli Melvin G.
Published: February 2004

Joseph Chamberlain, British Colonial Secretary from 1895 to 1903 in the Salisbury administration, remains a subject of controversy for historians largely because of his role in the Jameson Raid. Just as his contemporary protagonists and antagonists, known as Unionists and pro-Boers, marshalled official and unofficial documents to support their cases, so have historians of recent times. There is a difference, however, between the historians writing in Chamberlain's era and those whose work is of recent date. At the turn of the century historians and polemicists had to depend upon official Blue Books and popular sources, while recent historians have had access to more extensive forms of evidence, such as personal letters and memoirs, edited and unedited diaries, and unexpurgated governmental records. Access to original sources, although it has not resolved differences in interpretation, has enabled Jean van der Poel to construct a good case for Joseph Chamberlain's complicity in the Jameson Raid. Van der Poel defines complicity as Chamberlain's foreknowledge of, failure to stop, and alleged advice in favor of the Johannesburg uprising and the Rhodes-Jameson plan, which she argues were integral parts of the same master scheme that set off the Raid. Similarly, historians of the earlier period, although precluded by lack of evidence from asking all of Van der Poel's questions and although not inclined to link the Raid and uprising into a single master plan, did, with few exceptions, address themselves to the question of Chamberlain's responsibility as an accomplice of the Raid and uprising.
Greene and Stanlis on Dr. Johnson and the Natural Law: a Medieval Postscript
Authors: Oakley Francis
Published: February 2004

“And we are here as on a darkling plain Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight Where ignorant armies clash by night.”

Matthew Arnold

Perhaps it is somewhat less than fair that to one whose interests lie in earlier centuries than theirs, the recent exchanges between Donald J. Greene and Peter J. Stanlis should have called irresistibly to mind the closing lines of Matthew Arnold's Dover Beach. Unfair, indeed, admittedly unfair, but not wholly without its moral. The strife has been ferocious and the crash of opposed artillery truly deafening. But the smoke remains dense, the objectives obscured, and so many of the projectiles hurled have spent their force on phantom targets. And why is this so? In part, no doubt, because of disagreements about the very nature of Dr. Johnson's views — but a medievalist would be presumptuous indeed to contemplate even the most tentative of interventions on this score. More germane to his interests, however, and surely no less fundamental to the impasse, is the dangerously impoverished historical landscape against which these views have been measured.

This comes out very clearly in Stanlis's abuse of the label “Calvinist” — for which Greene correctly upbraids him. It comes out, too, in Greene's reliance on that shopworn tag “Augustinian,” with which Stanlis is rightfully uneasy — though, conceivably, for the wrong reasons. But it comes out most clearly of all in the assumption, common, it seems, to both parties, that it is safe and meaningful to speak of the Scholastic conception of natural law.
“The Expense of Many A Vanished Sight”
Authors: Kaufmann R. J.
Published: February 2004

“In normal times the guillotine, luckily, is not at the disposal of historians.”

Paul Valéry

History is a humanly necessary mode of knowing. Every poised epoch is knit together by the imaginative language it uses to expropriate an organized past from whose qualitative contours it then silently, habitually infers its own nature. History as a fact of communal psychology thus maintains a many-layered referential manifold. This referential manifold must have some kind of emotional legibility and be formally intelligible if it is to serve to subordinate the threatening welter of the no longer relevant. A great deal of meritorious historical research and writing is merely propaedeutic or precritical to the maintenance of this self-validating mirror of each poised epoch. When the mirror no longer throws back usefully intelligible images it must be renewed by honest appraisal of the imaginative syntheses of prior epochs. Such enquiry nowadays tends to bewilderment and to the tenebrous by reason of the richness of the available record. In these latter days the historian is a modifier of pre-established images, his fundamental renovations of vision are few. The mirror stands there; it is bequeathed to us; we need it; it is a strenuous, intellectual task to preserve it at a working level of provocative clarity.

Therefore it is especially desirable that higher historiography escape gossip-mongering about the defenseless dead, or that other form of intrusive projection of current frustrations upon past behaviour, the romanticizing of energy potentials of other eras.
The Mob and the Revolution of 1688
Authors: Sachse William L.
Published: February 2004

Among the major political upheavals which have been called revolutions, the English Revolution of 1688 is generally recognized as extraordinary. Long accepted among moderate Englishmen as “glorious,” a revolution to end revolutions, in more radical quarters it has not been regarded as constituting a true revolution. Contemporary Russian opinion, for example, refuses to bestow upon it this accolade, regarding it as a mere coup d'état. Its conservatism, its legalism, its bloodlessness, the absence of zeal to be found among its protagonists: all contribute to this point of view. That these are characteristics of the Glorious Revolution cannot be denied. More precisely, they characterize the actions of the leaders of the Revolution — of the councillors and legislators and soldiers whose names are known. Of popular opinion and aspiration much less is known, and it is probable that little can be discovered in the surviving evidence. But they can be assessed, to some degree, by following the actions of the mob — or, more accurately, the mobs — as they erupted in London and other parts of the Kingdom.

Mob disturbances, like the plague, were more or less endemic in Stuart England. Roger North, in his Examen, asserts that “the Rabble first changed their Title, and were called the mob” in the gatherings of the Green Ribbon Club. Regardless of when the term was first used, seventeenth-century Englishmen were well acquainted with various manifestations of mob activity. England's growing urban population augmented the mob, and before Shaftesbury, Pym had demonstrated that he was aware of the existence of this popular force and of the uses to which it could be put.
The Aesthetic Dimension of Burke's Political Thought
Authors: Wood Neal
Published: February 2004

Apparently no systematic effort has been made to ascertain whether a relation exists between the aesthetic theory of Burke's The Sublime and Beautiful (1757) and his political ideas. This omission would be readily understandable if the book were an insignificant and immature effort, or if the author at some later time had drastically altered his views, or if he had lost his interest in the arts. But all the evidence seems to be to the contrary. The work has been appraised as “among the most important documents of its century” to which men of great stature were indebted, including Johnson, Blake, Wordsworth, Hardy, Diderot, Lessing, and Kant. Although Burke did write a first draft while he was an undergraduate in Trinity College, Dublin, he continued to work upon it six or seven more years. Except for the extensive revisions for the second edition of 1759, revisions which did not modify the basic thesis, Burke evidently made no textual changes in the numerous subsequent editions. Nothing that Burke said or wrote indicates that he had second thoughts about the substance of the argument. And to the end of his days he maintained his vital interest in the arts. He was an intimate of Oliver Goldsmith, David Garrick, and Sir Joshua Reynolds, the friend and patron of the two painters, George Barret and James Barry, and a member of the Royal Academy. Nor can the failure to consider the question of the connection between the aesthetics and the politics be due to the unfamiliarity of students of Burke's political thought with The Sublime and Beautiful.
Scientists and Broad Churchmen: an Early Victorian Intellectual Network
Authors: Cannon Walter F.
Published: February 2004

The late Victorians popularized several ideas which have tended to obscure what was actually going on in intellectual matters in the early part of the nineteenth century. One of these is the notion that, whenever science and religion came into contact, some degree of scientific excellence was sacrificed, if only because the scientists themselves believed in the theological ideas. Another is the judgment that Dean Stanley, a “passive peaceable Protestant” always seeking compromise, was the typical Broad Churchman. And a third is the acceptance of Leslie Stephen's description of an arid “Cambridge rationalism” not only as enlightening (which it is) but also as complete.

These and other similar misconceptions could be propagated because the later Victorian intellectual “aristocracy” or “self-reviewing circle,” as described so well by Noel Annan, was not continuous with that of the earlier period. Such physical descendants as did remain, notably Matthew Arnold and Leslie Stephen, played quite different roles in the new circle from those which their fathers had filled in the older, looser, grouping. The founders of the new aristocracy selected their mythic figures with an eye to current usefulness rather than with strict attention to the history of the earlier generation. This was to be expected. One could not expect Thomas Huxley to emphasize the great abilities of the geologist Adam Sedgwick when it was just such a reputation which supported “the old Adam” in his attack on Darwin's theories.

In order to indicate the inadequacy of the three conceptions listed above, and others like them, it is the purpose of this article to use the indirect method of sketching the coming together of those men who were the mentors not only of Darwin but also of Stanley, of Tennyson, of Frederick Denison Maurice, of Lord Kelvin, and of James Clerk Maxwell.
The Political Behavior of the English Catholics, 1850-1867
Authors: Altholz Josef L.
Published: February 2004

In the current revision of Victorian history — shattering the stereotypes of parties and classes and emphasizing instead the unpatterned variations of individual and factional bargaining — political history tends to reduce itself to the social history of special groups. Among these groups are the religious sects and movements, whose effective political activity is a notable feature of the nineteenth century. One such group, however, the Roman Catholics of England (as distinct from those of Ireland), seems to be a special case: as an unpopular minority, alien both to the Establishment and to Nonconformity, they were slow to be assimilated into the mainstream of English life, and their political activity was relatively feeble. Nonetheless, a study of the political behavior of the English Catholics may illustrate the process whereby the members of this religious minority made their adjustment to the society in which they lived.

In the 1850's, the English Catholics represented about three and one-half per cent of the religious population of England and Wales — over 600,000 persons. Their political strength, however, was less than this figure would indicate. One reason for this was that twothirds of the Roman Catholics in England were Irish, immigrants or the children of immigrants; very few of these possessed sufficient property to qualify for the suffrage. In a few places they might be sufficiently numerous and enfranchised to affect an election. This was the case in Preston, where, in 1852, they turned out an anti-Catholic member.
W. T. Stead's History of the Mystery and the Jameson Raid
Authors: Baylen Joseph O.
Published: February 2004

Most historians of the Jameson Raid and Rhodes's most recent biographer draw attention to the significance of W. T. Stead's semi-fictional account of the Raid, The History of the Mystery, in deeply implicating Joseph Chamberlain and the Colonial Office in the intrigues which led to Jameson's disastrous foray. There still remains the question as to how Stead came to write his story. It is possible to reconstruct the origins and setting of Stead's work from his papers and those of his associates, especially among the Rhodes group. Of these papers, the most important is a private memorandum of thirteen pages entitled “The History of the Mystery” which Stead, anticipating a controversy surrounding the publication of the book, dictated on November 26, 1896 “to put on record … the salient factors connected with its genesis.” Yet, the story must be understood in the context of Stead's personality and his relationships with Rhodes, Chamberlain, and Rhodes's solicitor, Bouchier F. Hawksley.

Stead, son of a Congregationalist manse, distinguished himself as a bold and highly skilled editor of the Darlington Northern Echo and of the Pall Mall Gazette, who used sensationalism as a powerful instrument to influence Government policy. As a devout Nonconformist, Stead's work was marked by a moral fervor which often made him appear more “a revivalist preacher” than a journalist. Tenacious in his convictions and sometimes vindictive and lacking in judgment, Stead was idealistic, generous, and intensely loyal in friendship.
Asquith at Paisley: the Content of British Liberalism at the End of Its Era
Authors: Kelley Robert
Published: February 2004

Two political campaigns in the Scottish Lowlands mark the beginning and the end of the half century during which the Liberal party rose, had its era of greatness, and fell. They are Midlothian and Paisley. In the first, William Gladstone made use of the new democracy of the Reform Act of 1867 by giving many speeches to vast crowds in a concentrated, spectacular campaign. He also broke new ground by setting out in these speeches the whole sweep of a political point of view, providing both contemporaries and historians with a convenient study in depth of its assumptions and goals. Midlothian was a legend before the cheers had subsided. It began a new era in British politics.

The second of these landmark campaigns, that at Paisley, saw Herbert Henry Asquith, the last of Gladstone's protégés as well as the last Prime Minister of a Liberal government, stumping the streets of that industrial town in the first weeks of 1920. It, too, was the object of intense national interest and resulted in important political changes. Similarly, Asquith's speeches covered the whole range of national problems, thus supplying once more a convenient presentation in depth of Liberalism as the leader of the Liberal party conceived it. Paisley provides both a window into the political mêlée which saw the collapse of the Liberals and the rise of Labour, and a reference point in the history of Liberal thought in Britain. In brief, this is consensus Liberalism as it stood at the end of its half century of power and influence.
The Economics of Ruler-Cult in Anglo-Saxon Law
Authors: Chaney William A.
Published: February 2004

If economists have been accused, like Oscar Wilde's cynic, of knowing the price of everything and the value of nothing, historians, on the other hand, often know the value of everything and the price of nothing. Since value and price are historically related, however, the historian who ignores the economics which both embodies and reflects a value-system and world-view does so at his own cost. Thus, the laws of the early Germanic tribes — and of the Anglo-Saxons in particular, to whom this study is confined — are dominated by virtual tables of prices and compensations for offenses and injuries. To the general historian, and even to the medievalist, these are perhaps the least fascinating elements of the laws. Certainly the more cosmic elements of Germanic society almost vanish here beneath the weight of numbers. Nonetheless, even these apparently raw economic sources reveal, upon investigation, not only societal structure and the relationship of church and state but a concept of kingship which is the key to both. Penalties and fines in Anglo-Saxon law will be analyzed here to illuminate these aspects of the early English world.

The two greatest influences on the actual codification of Anglo-Saxon law are Roman and ecclesiastical. Before the introduction of Christianity no Germanic written code is known, and the written formulation of law is largely stimulated by an attempt to cope with the new religion and with the status of its institution, the Church, in terms of Germanic society. In Kentish law, for example, dooms concerning the Church show less alliteration and consequently may be taken as newer.
The Problems and Significance of Administrative History in the Tudor Period
Authors: Elton G. R.
Published: February 2004

During the past sixteen years “administrative history” seems to have come and gone as a term of distinction in the historical study of Tudor England. In the later 1940's there were a number of scholars newly aware of the vast wealth of government records in the English archives and enormously impressed by the achievements of the medievalists — of Tout and his school — who deplored the absence of comparable studies for the post-medieval period and, for a time, came to seek salvation in an ever more stringent and particular investigation of the processes of government. But that phase did not last long. Now it can be said by Joel Hurstfield, himself a notable contributor to that flowering of administrative history, that “we have passed beyond recall the stage when the machinery alone, however intimately understood, can answer the questions.” The study of social history is all the rage now, by which is meant the history of a given society in its various aspects and manifestations — or rather, whatever may in fact emerge from that awesome ambition. Fashions change, and nowadays they change pretty rapidly; but one need not regret that not-so-distant dawn or believe that the evening has yet come. Let it be made clear, however, what is meant, or should be meant, by administrative history. Certainly this involves the analysis and description of past administrative processes, the discovery of principles implicit or explicit in the conduct of government, and an understanding of the manner in which the theoretical mechanism operated in practice.
The Social Language of John Locke: a Study in the History of Ideas
Authors: Colie R. L.
Published: February 2004

Now that the great bulk of papers relating to John Locke in the Lovelace Collection has begun to yield up its treasure, the life and character of John Locke, as well as the life and character of his work, can be seen more fully than ever before. John Locke has firmly entered into political history, as Peter Laslett's researches have demonstrated; and Locke himself has become firmly embedded in the amorphous discipline called the history of ideas, since the history of his own ideas can now readily be examined. The wealth of material relevant to Locke's work has by no means provided his ideas with greater logical consistency, for the lack of which Locke has always had his critics. In some ways, the philosophical coherence of his work presents even greater problems than it used to, since the papers leave even more ravelled ends than the published books did. But the papers have provided something which may prove even more useful in understanding Locke's thought than a logical key to his thought: that is, the spectacle of a man thinking, and thinking hard, over four decades. Locke himself comes to appear a particular illustration of his own preoccupation with process and with the philosophical ideas arising from the concept of process: the long processes of his thinking, along so many major lines, may also be seen more clearly now in their complementary relation to one another.

This paper, the heart excised from a longer study, deals with one line of Locke's thought, a line which has recently attracted serious scholarly attention, his views on language.
Swift's Historical Outlook
Authors: Johnson James William
Published: February 2004

The art and mind of Jonathan Swift have been the objects of ever greater critical attention for the last twenty or thirty years. So thoroughly have the commentators discussed Swift's attitudes and their origins that there would seem to be little left to discover about the Dean's views or why he held them or how he applied them. In respect to the rôle played in Swift's thought by his reading in historiography, however, and the importance of history in the conceptual bases of his writings, critics have assumed more than they have demonstrated. In spite of some useful published disquisitions — by Herbert Davis and Irvin Ehrenpreis — the implications of the importance of Swift's historical outlook have not been fully explored, nor have the formation and configuration of his historically founded beliefs been clarified and documented. The present study will attempt to explain in some detail Swift's ideas of history, where he got them, and how they affected his non-historiographical compositions.

Swift's vital interest in historiography is now commonly acknowledged. The post in government he most actively tried to get was that of Historiographer Royal. Between 1714 and 1720, he devoted a good deal of time to composing his “histories” of political activities during the Tory ministry. He essayed a history of England. His letters as well as his other works are packed with references to a multiplicity of historians drawn from disparate ages and cultures. In his library, which numbered about five hundred separate works at the time of his death, at least three fifths were historical opera, including diaries, memoirs, and chronologies.
Some Reflections on the Early Years of George III's Reign
Authors: Butterfield Herbert
Published: February 2004

The present paper is concerned with “political history” — with the problems of the statesman who looks at the situation from above and has to make decisions about it. Granted that conditions are of a given sort and that society has a certain form — granted that men are what they are and events have produced a predicament that calls for action — there are people who have a presiding position and an over-all responsibility; and their strategies and decisions are themselves an object of study. A crucial question of “political history” is the question of the kind of statesmanship that was necessary for operating the constitution as it existed in the early years of George III's reign. On this subject one who does not speak with the authoritarian voice of the expert may claim that the experts should be carefully scrutinized, especially in a world now terribly subject to intellectual fashion. But one who has always valued originality (and has been reproved even for measuring historians by this quality) is in a predicament — calling, now, for the reverse of this, and wanting, rather, to recover continuity with an earlier stage of historiography. Whereas at the present time new evidence, manuscript sources, and the thrill of the hitherto-undiscovered fact are always prized, this paper must take on the dull work of making sure that some old material is not neglected, material which, if it appeared in print long ago, did so only because its importance was so obvious from the first.
The Chartering of the British North Borneo Company
Authors: Galbraith John S.
Published: February 2004

“Imperialism,” an eminent historian has written, “is no word for scholars.” But the study of European political expansion in Asia, the Pacific islands, and Africa in the last quarter of the nineteenth century certainly merits scholarly attention, and recently has been receiving it. Since 1960 an impressive array of books and articles has appeared which present new insights into aspects of the “scramble,” particularly the motives for British action. Most of these studies have been concerned with Africa, and a possible deficiency in the analysis of one of the most notable of them has been that in its preoccupation with Africa it has not taken sufficient account of relevant developments elsewhere.

During the second half of the nineteenth century, particularly after 1870, European influence advanced with a new aggressiveness into the under-powered areas of the world. In the halcyon days of the Pax Britannica, British governments had sought to avoid annexations as unproductive and expensive. This policy continued to be the creed in the 1870's, but some statesmen found it increasingly difficult to apply without serious risk to major British interests. These officials were motivated largely by fear of future challenges rather than of demonstrated peril. But there was a growing conviction, particularly evident in the permanent staff of the Foreign Office, that Europe had entered a new era of great-power rivalries in which Britain must either pursue a more active imperial policy or risk the loss of commerce, prestige, and world power. There was widespread apprehension that expansion into overseas areas by the militant and protectionist German Empire, Spain, and other European states might be ruinous to British trade and dangerous to Imperial security.
The British National Insurance Act of 1911 and the Commercial Insurance Lobby
Authors: Gilbert Bentley B.
Published: February 2004

By any measure, the National Insurance Act of 1911 ranks among the major legislative achievements of the Liberal administration that held office in Great Britain before World War I. One section of the act founded the world's first national system of compulsory unemployment insurance. Another section brought government-sponsored health insurance to five sixths of the families of the nation and established the precedent of state concern for the physical welfare of the individual citizen, of which the National Health Service Act of 1946 would be only an extension. By requiring beneficiary contributions toward welfare programs, the act settled the financial pattern for most of Britain's present social legislation. In a less crowded period, the National Insurance Act would rank as an imposing parliamentary monument, comparable, for instance, to the Education Act of 1902. Sandwiched between the Parliament Act and the Home Rule Act, it has been lost from sight. The measure is not mentioned in the standard biography either of Asquith or of Balfour. It earns one sentence in G. M. Trevelyan's History of England in the Nineteenth Century, where through successive editions and revisions it is called “the National Health Insurance Act of 1912.” R. C. K. Ensor's England, 1870-1914 gives it a couple of paragraphs.

This study is an examination of an important, perhaps crucial, aspect of the evolution of the health insurance section of the National Insurance Act that has remained unnoticed for half a century: the lobby activity of the British commercial insurance industry by which the companies modified health insurance proposals for their own benefit.
Some Notations on Mr. Hollister's “Irony”
Authors: Cheyette Fredric
Published: February 2004

For several years C. Warren Hollister has been picking his way through the “treacherous bog” of Anglo-Saxon and early Anglo-Norman military institutions. Out of that bog he has brought medievalists fresh knowledge of the nature of the Anglo-Saxon fyrd, the relation of fyrd-service to knight's service, the importance before and after 1066 of mercenary troops, to name only a few of the questions he has touched on. As a result of his work, in fact (along with that of Eric John and Michael Powicke), the Berkshire customal in Domesday Book threatens to become as written about as the final clauses of the Statute of York. But inevitably the presentday medievalist decides to emerge from his dusty inquests and cartularies, to step boldly out from behind his philological barricade and survey the surrounding landscape, to extract more from his laconic charters than a few plausible conclusions about some minor issues. Old-fashioned self-inhumation in the details of local antiquities is no longer for him, nor Bury's sanguine belief that if each historian adds his little stone to the dry wall of History, some future age may finally be able to see its shape. Thus the historian's growing concern with his generalizations. Thus especially the recent debates about the proper definition and delimitation of “feudalism.” Thus Hollister, after ducking the general issue of “feudalism” in his Anglo-Saxon Military Institutions, recently on these pages decided to attack it head on.
Reflections on the Unicorn's Head
Authors: Hollister C. Warren
Published: February 2004

Mr. Cheyette's remarks require at least a brief comment from the gild of medieval tapestry weavers with whom he disagrees so strongly. On the assumption that the historian cannot derive a definition from the evidence, he has produced an article which is at once interesting, well written, and utterly uncontaminated by contact with an original source. Thus liberated, he has woven a colorful tapestry of his own. Having written much on how feudalism ought not to be defined, he turns at length to its proper definition. Unsure of what an institution is, he defines feudalism as “a medieval way of thinking,” better yet, a “technique,” and, perhaps best of all, a “spirit.” It is not unnatural that the medieval institutional historian would object to such definitions. They have a fine sound in the context of a brief, discursive article, but in the actual writing of history they are ephemeral and, indeed, far more archetypal than the definitions that medievalists ordinarily use.

What is feudalism? Marc Bloch, whose conception of it is about as broad as one is apt to find among medieval historians, defines it as follows:

A subject peasantry; widespread use of the service tenement (i.e. the fief) instead of a salary, which was out of the question; the supremacy of a class of specialized warriors; ties of obedience and protection which bind man to man and, within the warrior class, assume the distinctive form called vassalage; fragmentation of authority — leading inevitably to disorder; and, in the midst of all this, the survival of other forms of association, family and State, of which the latter, during the second feudal age, was to acquire renewed strength — such then seem to be the fundamental features of European feudalism.
Persecution and the Dialogue of Comfort: a Fresh Look at the Charges Against Thomas More
Authors: Miles Leland
Published: February 2004

The canonization of Thomas More in May 1935 was not greeted with universal approbation. According to one writer, the ceremony “was met by an official boycott in the English press and Parliament as well as in the Universities.” Though such a statement is not wholly justified, it must be granted that in a large segment of the British press, coverage of the canonization was minimal and hostile. The hostility was partly inspired by disapproval in some quarters at More's silence over the issue of Henry VIII's ecclesiastical supremacy. On this score there were charges that he was at best an “unsatisfactory saint” or a “negative martyr.” Typical of this attitude was the moderate statement of Ernest Barker a few months after More achieved Sainthood: “More, in the final trial of his faith, was obstinately silent about his real thoughts …. There is something negative in this attitude …. More died for the right of a free conscience — provided it were silent. But is a free conscience which keeps silent really free?”

For some scholars, however, the doubts concerning More's canonization ran deeper than mere disapproval of his silence on the supremacy issue, and centered rather on his alleged mistreatment of heretics (chiefly in the period 1526-34). Certainly the sixteenth-century Reformers regarded More as a persecutor. The Chronicler Edward Hall described him as “a great persecutor of such as detested the supremacy of the bishop of Rome.” Fox in his Book of Martyrs represented him as “blinded in the zeal of popery” to all humane considerations in the treatment of Lutherans.
The Manipulation of Committees in the Long Parliament, 1641-1642
Authors: Glow Lotte
Published: February 2004

Historians of politics of the English Civil War have until recently studied the behaviour of members of Parliament through their speeches on the floor of the Houses. This practice led to the view that parliamentary policy was determined by the ascendancy of one of two opposing factions, composed of the most outspoken and influential members. J. H. Hexter's analysis of the tellers in divisions during the critical period of peace negotiation with the King in 1642 and 1643 expanded this rigid dichotomy and showed that political opinion in the House of Commons was divided into three “Parties,” the less committed centre being most susceptible to the winds of political change. He also showed that policy decisions did not depend solely upon the persuasiveness and stature of the leading politicians, but were shaped according to the temporary allegiances of a body of enthusiastic, though inconsistent, followers. The work of M. Frear Keeler, and of D. Brunton and D. H. Pennington shifted the emphasis further from the leadership to the rank and file by their interest in the background and grass roots of the most insignificant member alongside his more illustrious colleagues.

The aim of this article is to examine another aspect of the dynamics of parliamentary politics. It seeks to show how the leadership of the Commons gained control over the members by skilfully delegating vital functions to carefully chosen committees, for the committee system, as it evolved during the early months of the Long Parliament and as it developed during the years of war, met the challenge of the absent Privy Council in providing Parliament with a new and responsible executive.
Cromwell and the Paradoxes of Puritanism
Authors: New John F. H.
Published: February 2004

To those who recall Christopher Hill's brilliant cameo of Oliver Cromwell, published on the tercentenary of his death, the title of this short article may seem surprising; for Hill then uncovered a series of Cromwellian contradictions: a confusion of intentions that were both revolutionary and conservative; long hesitations coupled with swift, decisive actions; apparent hypocrisy yet patent sincerity; a man who could extend the right hand of fellowship to the lower classes but not the franchise. Cromwell is perennially elusive, a riddle about whom few authorities would dare to whisper what A. L. Rowse has admitted of Sir Walter Raleigh: “I feel … that I have got him.” Like Browning's heaven, a full understanding of the man may stand forever just beyond reach; even so the search for novel patterns and fresh approaches is bound to continue.

Despite the title, this note does not intend to subvert Hill's conclusions. Instead it begins where he ended, and seeks to carry his method of paradoxology further — to prospect for sources of ambivalence in Cromwell's theology rather than in his politics or in his social background to see whether the results might not unravel some of the apparent ambiguities of his practice.

It could be objected that the better way to understand Cromwell is “existentially rather than essentially”: one should look to his career rather than his creed and analyse his specific decisions in the context of the crises that usually accompanied them. But this approach has been tried and tried again, and still the results are inconclusive.
Was There a “New Toryism” in the Earlier Part of George III's Reign?
Authors: Christie Ian R.
Published: February 2004

The reissue after twenty years of G. H. Guttridge's study, English Whiggism and the American Revolution, is very welcome. In many of its judgments this lucid, aseptic dissection of the ideas, attitudes, and policies of the opposition groups in British politics during the period of the Revolution bids fair to stand the test of a much longer period of time than has elapsed since its first appearance in 1942. The virile political traditions (some still traceable in modern British practice) which Hanoverian England inherited from the whiggism of the seventeenth century contained not one but several potentially competing principles; and the great strength of this study lies in the author's exposition of the ways in which these divergent principles were taken up by different political groups, with the effect of determining the stand taken by each, both on the American question and on concurrent issues of domestic politics. In Locke's writings radicals found justification for the creed of personality as the basis of political rights. All groups drew from them a belief that Parliament had an essential role in maintaining “the contractual obligation of monarchy to preserve certain fundamental rights,” but more than one principle followed from this premise. In the minds of William Pitt, Earl of Chatham, and his friends, it was combined with pre-Lockeian concepts of fundamental law as an element in the constitution beyond the power of Parliament to alter. For the leaders and members of the Rockingham connection, Parliament's role was seen in, and secured by, its supremacy.
Bentinck: Humanitarian and Imperialist—the Abolition of Suttee
Authors: Cassels Nancy G.
Published: February 2004

The conscience of British humanitarians of the early nineteenth century was troubled by many practices which they regarded as inhumane — none more so than the practice in India of suttee or the self-immolation of widows. The prevailing humanitarian drive for the abolition of suttee drew its strength from an alliance between evangelical and utilitarian propagandists who urged upon the British public a sense of responsibility for the welfare of their brethren across the sea. During the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, however, the efforts of these reformists were offset by what amounted to a determined indifference on the part of the East India Company to all aspects of Indian society. At the turn of the century the practice of suttee was well protected by the Company's policy of noninterference with native “religious usages and institutions” established in 1772. Governor-General Cornwallis refused to allow a Collector at Shahabad to dissuade a suttee victim. Yet his successors, Lord Wellesley and Lord Hastings, pondered at considerable length the possibility of abolishing suttee. With the Regulations of 1813 the Supreme Government in Bengal began a consistent policy of prescribing strict limitations upon the practice of suttee. Although interpreted by some as official government approval of suttee, these regulations were continued sine die by the superior court in Calcutta. Encouraged in part by the example set by the Supreme Government, Governors Elphinstone and Malcolm in Bombay were less inclined than the Supreme Government itself to seem to interfere with native socio-religious custom, and therefore in western India toleration of suttee was more apparent than its restriction.
Who Ran the British Empire 1830-1850?
Authors: Manning Helen Taft
Published: February 2004

Patterns of historical writing are notoriously difficult to change. Much of what is still being written about colonial administration in the nineteenth-century British Empire rests on the partisan and even malicious writings of critics of the Government in England in the 1830s and '40s who had never seen the colonial correspondence and were unfamiliar with existing conditions in the distant colonies. The impression conveyed in most textbooks is that the Colonial Office after 1815 was a well-established bureaucracy concerned with the policies of the mother country in the overseas possessions, and that those policies changed very slowly and only under pressure. Initially Edward Gibbon Wakefield and Charles Buller were responsible for this Colonial Office legend, but it was soon accepted by most of the people who had business to transact there. Annoyed by the fact that the measures proposed by the Wakefield group did not meet with instant acceptance, Wakefield and Buller attacked the Permanent Under-Secretary, James Stephen, as the power behind the throne in 14 Downing Street and assumed that his ideas of right and wrong were being imposed willy-nilly on the unfortunate colonists and would-be colonists.

The picture of Stephen as all-powerful in shaping imperial policy was probably strengthened by the publication in 1885 of Henry Taylor's Autobiography. Taylor was one of Stephen's warmest admirers and had served with him longer than anyone else; when he stated that for a quarter of a century Stephen “more than any one man virtually governed the British Empire,” historians were naturally inclined to give credence to his words.
Disraeli and the Millstones
Authors: Stembridge Stanley R.
Published: February 2004

Of the countless addresses which assailed English eardrums in the nineteenth century, few are more widely remembered in the general histories of Britain and the British Empire than Benjamin Disraeli's celebrated speech at the Crystal Palace on June 24, 1872. There he made a profession of faith in the Empire which is still often said to have marked his conversion from the apathy of an earlier day when he had described the colonies as “a millstone round our necks.” The speech, moreover, is commonly regarded as the great signpost at the start of the highway to the “New Imperialism,” and it is usually credited with having furnished the Tories a popular banner which they subsequently carried into the political arena with outstanding success. The speech has been both praised as “the famous declaration from which the modern conception of the British Empire takes its rise” and condemned as an opportunistic effort to “dish the Whigs,” but friend and foe alike have accorded it a significance which it does not wholly deserve.

For many decades historians have harked back to the middle years of the last century as the heyday of anti-imperialism in Britain. This was the period of “Little England,” when many of her leaders — especially the men of the Manchester School — looked with favor on the main doctrine of separatism: cut the colonies loose and let them set up shop for themselves so as to end the financial burdens borne by the mother country. The climax of this movement was supposed to have occurred about 1870, when a sudden imperialist tide swept away all separatist notions.
The British Labour Party: The Conflict Between Socialist Ideals and Practical Politics between the Wars
Authors: Lyman Richard W.
Published: February 2004

The purpose of this paper is to set forth, somewhat arbitrarily, a composite view of the British Labour Party's history between the Wars, to be labelled the orthodox Labour interpretation, and then to set against it a contrasting view which has been expressed by several left-wing writers within the Labour Party. This examination of conflicting opinions can scarcely be dignified with the title historiographical inquiry. In the first place, there are other more or less coherent interpretations of Labour Party history in this period besides the two sketched herein, most notably a Communist view, expressed in such works as Allen Hutt's The Post-War History of the British Working Class. Secondly, as Stephen Graubard has recently said in relation to the Fabian Society, much of the Labour Party history in this period is in fact autobiography. Finally, as will soon become distressingly apparent, the interpretations that most writers have given of Labour between the Wars have been influenced by, connected with, even in some cases identical to the same authors' views on Labour today. History used to be called “past politics”; in this case it cannot entirely escape becoming “present politics.”

According to the orthodox view, the Labour Party was emerging from its infancy in the 1920s, having established its claim to be considered a major contestant for power as recently as 1918. As Francis Williams puts it:

With the acceptance of the new constitution and the endorsement of the international policy contained in the Memorandum on War Aims and the domestic programme contained in Labour and the New Social Order, the Labour Party finally established itself. The formative years were ended. Now at last it was an adult party certain of its own purpose; aware also at last of what it must do to impress that purpose upon the nation.