From all of which the next step takes us to the revolution in politics which made England for the first time a really democratic country. I suppose it is more than possible to exaggerate the influence of the industrial changes upon these political changes, but the tendency does not seem to be in that direction. The Wilkes episode with all its significance, the influence of the French Revolution pro and con, the general trend of the age, are factors usually well built upon. The agitations which shook the nation in the early nineteenth century, the focussing of great areas of population in the new centers of manufacture, the combination of the sense of industrial injustice such as was evidenced in the excesses of the “Luddites,” with the sense of political injustice of which the Manchester riots were a symptom—all this not only wrought profound differences in the social fabric of England, but was, I believe, the greatest single factor in bringing about the great reform bill. Whether superlative or comparative there is room for difference of opinion; but unquestionably this effect of the actual machine upon the political machine is to be made a point of in presenting to the class the drama of that peaceful (compared with that of other countries) and salutary transition from a government altogether of the land holders to an aristocratic democracy.
This revolution, which crowned the slow evolution of the British Constitution, which was so unlike the cataclysm across the narrow seas, was caused by a series of events stretching over the backward centuries. That is a mere truism to our mature “grown-up” mentality which has a taste for poking its nose into the roots of things and for generalizing therefrom.
But not so with the fledgling mentalities before us—enough for them that the very old time struggles helped along; that seeds of a free spirit were not lacking in the teutonic blood; and that the events of the seventeenth century did much to down the pride and power of royalty. With this much for a foundation, the ultimate effects of the new order of industry are comparatively simple to comprehend, and easy to view, like the superstructure of the building which the unseen base supports.
The Napoleonic Era.
There is a fascination which all of us feel, I suppose, both in the French Revolution and in the looming figure of Napoleon. It is natural enough, and needs no apology, but does need some curbing. I should say, judging from my own experience, when one must keep sternly in mind that English history is after all the prescribed route one is pursuing, and to wander from it is as reprehensible as for the tourist to deviate a hair’s breadth from his itinerary. The temptation to digress is only heightened by the fact that English matters were quite nearly concerned in the former, and might have been said to have been thoroughly involved in the career of Napoleon. Then, too, none of the class know anything worth speaking of about European history, and here for once, at least, the various streams of national histories melt into one river, and Europe becomes a vast theater for a single drama. All very plausible, but nevertheless we must not dwell on the alluring prospect too long or we shall be lost. The “Continental System,” with its direct bearing upon England, is less interesting but perfectly legitimate food for the English historian or historée. A fairly full account of it taken from an article by Professor Sloane is quoted pp. 520 to 537 of Beard’s Introduction. Much is of course available on the Peninsular campaign and Waterloo, not to mention Aboukir Bay and Trafalgar. Creasy’s account of Waterloo in the “Fifteen Decisive Battles” is of course good; but for a bit of reading to the class for purposes of ignition, nothing that I know of can equal Victor Hugo’s fiction (somewhat adorning fact!) in Les Miserables.
A fascinating book on this period if one can get hold of it (it is expensive, alas, so I advise borrowing) is Lord Broughton’s “Recollections of a Long Life,”[3] which covers a considerable stretch of time, for a single life, from 1786 to 1822, and is delightfully intimate and realistic. I refrain from suggesting anything concerning Napoleon having in mind the afore-mentioned temptation. Nelson and Wellington, on the other hand, deserve portraits. The later appearance of the “great Duke,” when he made so poor a hand at statesmanship is one of the not infrequent examples of the soldier out of place in the councils of state. The extracts pp. 656 to 662 of Cheyney’s Readings are interesting in this connection.
Personalities.
The later eighteenth century teems with personalities, so that it is difficult not to crowd the canvas and to nullify all individual impression by the force of numbers. George III himself, much blackened by American semi-traditions of thought is not as uninteresting or as stupid or as objectionable as your pupil probably thought him. A just view of King George is a worthy aim to set up for at least one lesson. Lord North, too, always has an interest for Americans. But far above these are Pitt and Burke and Fox. O for the chance to deal with these men as we ought in the class room; to read what they said and to examine what they did! Green has drawn William Pitt the younger in his best style, pp. 790-791. For Burke one should go to Augustine Birrell’s “Obiter Dicta” for an essay that is light in its touch but keen. Trevelyan gives us Fox, though at too great length for busy men, and Macaulay—well, no class has entirely received its due unless it has heard the passage from “The Impeachment of Warren Hastings,” beginning “The place was worthy of such a trial. It was the great hall of William Rufus,” etc.
Time and space fail us, and the age of reform must wait for discussion until next number, as well as the methods of review pertinent to the otherwise pleasant month of May.