Volume II of Simon Schama’s History of Britain purports itself as, “The Wars of the British, 1603-1776” (Volume I presumably compasses the preceding 56 hundred-odd years), but it is in truth, and of necessity, something more than that. While the martial conflicts of that age were certainly of central importance, it is in the smaller human dramas, those that caused the wars and those that resulted from them, that the most important lessons are to be found. This is especially true in this country at this time, as Britain’s struggles both internal and external were the birth pangs of an entity which, more so than any other, would scribe the shape of the world as we know it today: the so-called “empire of liberty”.
In broad terms, the scope of the history presented here should be familiar to anyone with even a cursory education: the Civil War resulting in the execution of Charles I and the Protectorate of Oliver Cromwell, the Restoration of the Stuart line following Cromwell’s death, the momentous but relatively short-lived instillation of William of Orange during the Glorious Revolution, the institution of the Hanoverian line that continues to this day, and Britain’s imperial adventures in India and North America. What might be less familiar, and what Schama seeks to show, is how each of these events led into the next; the small contemporary issues of policy which became rallying points for various factions until battle lines were drawn, the Rubicon crossed, and the course of history rewritten. The English Civil War, for instance, stemmed from disagreements over the rights and limitations of the monarchy as opposed to Parliament, and it was issues such as ship money, wherein Charles attempted to circumvent parliamentary approval to raise revenue, which brought the conflict to a head. Ironically, it was a similar disagreement over taxes and liberty which provoked the American colonists to shirk the yoke of their governors and found their own nation (an irony not at all lost on Jefferson, Madison, and their colleagues).
Most interestingly to me was the debate which sprang up, or rather revived itself, prior to and during the civil war about the nature and authority of government. For ages monarchs had availed themselves to the Divine Right of kings, the notion that the right to rule was granted by God himself and handed down by direct lineage (or whatever laws applied in the absence thereof). Though this idea had been challenged before, the increasingly secular philosophies of the Enlightenment made it possible to do so on grounds which were previously unthinkable (not only that they were taboo; the capacity to understand a concept such as innate human liberty simply did not exist among the majority of those who might claim it). For Oliver Cromwell, erstwhile protector of the Church of England against the heresies of the Catholic church, some justification had to be found for deposing (murdering, even) the man who had been previously hailed as God’s appointed representative. Ample rhetoric for this purpose was to be found in the pen of Milton, among others, but truly revolutionary ideas were also forthcoming from authors such as Hobbes and Locke. Their writings were to serve as the foundations for a new way of comprehending the relationship between government and governed not just in Britain and her daughter America, but in the entirety of Western civilization and, increasingly, the rest of the world. As a stout defender of the unequivocal sovereignty of God and an equally stalwart champion of individual liberty, the finer points of this debate are of utmost interest to me, and will certainly lead to further reading on the subject (I intend to start Leviathan as soon as my reading schedule allows).
Schama approaches the expanse of history set before him simply by diving right in. Volume II picks up, presumably, right where Volume I left of, with the death of Queen Elizabeth and the ascension of James I and VI. He then runs the narrative in one continuous thread straight through to the end. There are no real divisions in each of the long chapters, and not entirely even between them, making the reading a bit disorienting until one gets the hang of the style. Because Schama moves his account organically along with the events in question, it can often seem as though a theme or thought is abandoned before it is fully developed, while a new thought is examined before returning to the original. This style also affects the nature of Schama’s biographical studies. Leading figures such as Charles I or Cromwell are developed over the period of events in which they figure, giving a more complete but less focused picture, while minor players are somewhat hastily sketched, lest their development derail the thread of the main narrative too long. Presenting the material in this manner certainly requires a good deal of attention on the part of the reader, and favors a compact reading schedule (I found myself flipping back to refresh my memory a few times if I’d let it sit too long), but the task is not one that should be begrudged. The advantage of moving at the speed of the events is just that; the discussion of the current moment naturally gives way to the next one, removing the hazard of getting snagged on any one point.
This is not to say that the narrative is simply a dusty recapitulation of long-past occurrences. Schama is certainly not afraid to add his own insights on the subjects at hand, but neither does he come across as a revisionist seeking to satisfy his own personal vendetta. His conclusions are, for the most part, justifiable by the historical evidence he presents, often citing primary sources. For example, after quoting a passage in which Cromwell defends the brutality of his campaign in Ireland by rendering a harsh indictment of the “lawlesse Rebels,” Schama has this to say: “[The passage:] is not the unwitting confession of a genocidal lunatic, but it is the unwitting confession of a pig-headed, narrow-minded, Protestant bigot and English imperialist. And that is quite bad enough.” This sort of lively criticism pervades the book, but, as it is tempered with acknowledgements of the relative merits of hindsight, as well as equally fervent praise when it is due, the entire account stands as an honest assessment of historical fact rather than a didactic lecture. Schama’s writing style, too, is just as lively and engaging; his sentences are often shining examples of those quirks of the English language which make it such a delight for its authors and such hell for its readers – clauses are inserted or tacked on at will, such that a multitude of thoughts might be expressed all in the space of one breath, particularly to include a well-placed note of sarcastic criticism (and frequently contained in that most nefarious of grammatical devices, the parenthetical expression).
Though not exhaustive by any means, Schama does an excellent job of covering this turbulent period. Many factors contributed to the dissolution of the English civil war and the American revolution, and Schama seeks to give each its full measure in order to paint a complete picture of the underlying reasons behind these upheavals, measuring them against the context of the day, rather than being content with a simple but unjustifiable or anachronistic explanation. And this is the real triumph of Schama’s presentation: history is made alive through the lives that lived it and the issues they debated, according to their standards and often in their own words. As such the modern reader is challenged to reach beyond his own understanding, and Is rewarded with insights which are applicable to his own experience. As this is ultimately the goal of any proper study of history, no further recommendation of Schama’s admirable work need be given. Anyone interested in this time period, or the foundations of American political philosophy, should make an effort to read this book.