Kenneth Johnston’s Unusual Suspects, Parts 4-6, Coda

There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hall … Whom the gods wish to destroy they first call promising … I was a stage rebel, Orwell a true one — Cyril Connolly, The Enemies of Promise

RoyalExtinguishersGulliverPUttingoutPatriotsofLilliput
Isaac Cruickshank, Royal Extinguisher or Gulliver Putting out Patriots

censorship_press_obey2

Dear Friends and Readers,

This is the second half of my summary and commentary on Johnston’s Unusual Suspects (see Parts 1-4). This part of Johnston’s book will probably be more familiar territory to those who have read novels of the romantic and regency period, as well as their milieu and development (say in Gary Kelly’s survey). As women who wrote on behalf of radical ideas, 18th century versions of feminism, or reform were given a much rawer response than men, and there were automatically suspect nations (Chapters 7 & 8 of Part 4), so the novel was a suspect genre (Chapter 9). Johnston treats the novel from a political angle to suggest that the novel was not allowed to develop in ways that contextualize what is happening with a real understanding of social forces: publishers were prosecuted; what you wrote affected your career. In Scott’s attack on Bage we see female liberation allowed no play whatsoever. Johnston then moves into the silencing at the end of the 1790s: the destruction of Gilbert Wakefield was at the time understood as an example of what happens when a writer practices liberty of speech, freedom of the press. He uses Mackintosh to show what a man did who wanted to carry on; to see Mackintosh crudely as an apostate is not to see what happened.

We then follow a trail beginning with a man spying on Coleridge and Wordsworth and see how suspicion, the manufacturing of alarm, class and ethnic disdain operated on known individuals. I found these short biographies contained surprises: these were lives reseen by looking at the evidence used in previous studies from a new angle; that of how justified paranoia (they did have enemies) and ostracism shaped these peoples’ lives and a genuine humane sympathy with their politics. Johnston makes these people’s lives and choices make sense: the people are Coleridge, Wordsworth, Southey (he is especially insightful on Southey’s earlier radicalism), Lamb (on his brands of irony), Burns and Blake (how class disdain operates in both cases). The individual chapters are much longer and I include and link to some readings of the works (e.g., Wordsworth’s Borderers, Southey’s Letters from England, Lamb’s “Praise of Chimney Sweeps”) that Johnston just mentioned without going into.

*******************

Hermsprong

Chapter 9: Suspect Genres, the Novelist who was not: Robert Bage (1728-1801)

Johnston looks at the traditional genres, poetry, plays and the new one, novels for general effects from the political conflicts of the era. Story-lines were not allowed development, attitudes were castigated and ridiculed. Among the periodical set up to monitor the literature of the age the most important was the Anti-Jacobin (1798-99) which was very successful in achieving its aims of stopping people from writing clear protest poetry, and when they did, framing what they wrote as absurd, unacceptable, unpatriotic. Keats was hurt, Southey changed course; Coleridge and Wordsworth moderated themselves; others fled to Italy. Thomas Holcroft was a major victim. Plays were shouted off stage, censored in publications (the author not named); publishers arrested and made wary. Johnston sees this process as a destruction of what genres could have been like, one which marginalized potentially great practitioners. In the area of the novel the anti-jacobin novels won, Austen & Scott produce the respected paradigms; Bronte kind of rebellion romantic in feeling is not political or economic in ideology; Byron was silenced.

Robert Bage was a man rare for providing any ideological content, and one of those attacked by the Anti-Jacobin.

Godwin visits in June 1797; Bage was self-educated, admires Holbach, has friendships with Priestley and dissenting people; author of Man As He Is (a jaded aristocrat), and Hermsprong, Man As He Is Not (an American republican). Bage was a businessman running paper and flour mills who found war got in his way, he did have a long term contract but raw materials hard to get; long term contract supplying Hutton, in Birminghan, a friend and dissenter with paper. Long time association with Birmingham, Priestley crowd.

Johnston makes it clear Bage a reformer not a revolutionary in his first four novels. But what he did present was harangued against by Scott. Bage had departed from middle class novel norms by in one novel allowing a young woman who has made a romantic/sexual mistake to be rehabilitated into society. Scott explicitly wrote that ruined women must be stigmatized; in another a heroine prefers the harem to death; one heroine defends herself with a pair of scissors. Man as He Is expands out particular criticisms to suggest wider changes by gov’t policy. Johnston quotes Bage’s books to great effect and we get the dry witty quality of Bage’s strong critiques of corruption, war. Bage published anonymously; he was not interested in a writing career. Johnson argues that Bage’s revealing his last hero a aristocrat shows reader that such a title and money allows tiny minority of people to escape punishment, grow rich.

The gov’t of the day harassed him by excise taxes (directed to war); overcharged he gets his materials back only to have them seized again; he feels the effects of this constant harassment and interruption of his business; at one point he wrote he would like hanging himself. In reprints of his works Barbauld takes him to task for going against received notions and norms; Scott reprints worst Bage’s novels. We know that Austen had a copy of Hermsprong in 1796, in time for some influence. Johnston remarks how critics, and film makers today try to bring to bear in her novels positions only mentioned minimally by her and centrally by Bage. Conservative paradigms, Austen’s and Scott’s predominate by the end of the era; the effect of Barbauld’s collection.

************************

endgame2
A University of Victoria theater production of Endgame

Part 5: End-games. Endgame as a title is an allusion to Beckett’s play; its literal meaning refers to when the game is called to a half, the last of the chess pieces so this is exemplified by the prosecution of Wakefield for daring to argue with the Bishop of Llandaff; his incarceration utterly unjust. Mackintosh stands in as the representative of radical disillusionment.

Chapter 10: The End of Controversy: Gilbert Wakefield (1756-1801). Wakefield exemplifies the book’s thesis: he died as a result of absolutely unjust incarceration after acareer as a controversialist who made the mistake of rising to broad principles in his attack on complacent bishop of Llandaff, Richard Watson, a bland, condescending sycophant (the David Brook of his day?). Before this, Wakefield had done battle with several people and used religious language. Wakefield did things like attack the war, Pitt and Grenville, and show how false is the idea that sedition in the UK is everywhere.

Wakefield had had a career among the dissenters, as a controversialist; would attack notion it was sinful not to go to church (thus exposing worship is social worship); he went further than his 6 central theses (includes idea that alliance of church and state is a fraud). He argued that the prosecution of the reform movement was meant to silence opposition to foreign and domestic policies. His defense was his peaceable scholarly character, his friends in high places, that the trial itself is wrong – irony he was visited by known and famous people and yet they could do nothing for him.

He was forced to be in jail for a long time before trial; put in Dorchester way outside where he came from and notorious for bad conditions; then put into solitary confinement for 16 hours day. All sorts of famous friends visited him. His great Juvenilian poem in appendix; most imitations are conservative in thrust, not his.

Wordsworth has him partly in mind in his planned Recluse, the “Solitary” figure: that outline of Wordsworth’s early career resembles that of Wakefield only Wordsworth didn’t publish (only is too weak a word).

Chapter 11: The Great Apostate: Judas, Brutus, or Thomas? James Mackintosh (1765-1832). I did not find this chapter as convincing: Mackintosh did not hurt as much and was following his own character and tendencies throughout. He did not change all that much. Mackintosh was always currying favor, trying to to build a career; e.g., when he left Scotland as a doctor; first he tries to make connections with all the main liberal editors, reformers, he failed. His original fame came from a polemic against Burke defending French revolution, Vindiciae Gallicae, strong but not as available linguistically as Paine’s. Hazlitt is quoted, but Hazlitt’s sketch shows Mackintosh to have been an academic intellectual at heart (eg. Discourse on Study of Law and Nations). He had attacked Pitt for abandoning reform in A letter to R.Hon. Wm Pitt, on his Apostacy. Pitt turned this around to be against reform itself. Pitt’s target and legislation a “free form vigilantism against anyone who wrote, or sol, liberal material of any stripe.” Mackintosh wrote that Pitt’s aim was to subsidize European monarcihes to overthrow the French, evoking from French our country is in danger (a levee en masse).

But after the execution of Louis XVI, Mackintosh found his name was used as a bad associate to have. Johnston himself resorts to a kind of coy arch talk about careerism as explanation for why Mackintosh’s Discourses offended; Hazlitt said Mackintosh was too much an academic at heart. He retired to study. Discourses was a moderate book, gov’ts are there to protect us with “security against wrong.” His prose appealing because of its personal and religious quality. He was attacked by his friends as a trimmer, but he had been that way all along. It was hard for people to see he was consistent. When he was awarded a judgeship in India, his record in India unimpeachably progressive: reform penal law, the police, against death penalty. He came home and has an honorable liberal record in his voting habit (p 222) plans an unwritten History of England from the time of the Glorious revolution (one was written in the 1790s and had been suppressed).

08229B06.jpg
In Letters to England, Southey has two long sections exposing and inveighing against the treatment of horses, especially the new techniques in breeding and training racing horses

Mackintosh was at the last active in founding The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.

*******************************

the_promis'd_installment_of_the_high-priest_of_the_Theophilanthropes,_with_the_homage_of_Leviathan_and_his_suite

Part VI: The Romantic Poets, the Police and the State of Alarm: Johnston uses a cartoon by Gillray, “New morality,” or “The promised Installment of the High Priest of the Theophilanthropes, with the Homage of Leviathan and his suite” (August 1798) and calls it “The Last Line-up,” to identify the individuals he’s now proceeds to draw portraits of.

Chapter 12: “A Gang of disaffected Englishmen: Spy Nozy and the Somerset Gang.” Johnston retells Coleridge’s famous half-mocking account of a spy sent to listen in on his, the Wordsworths’, and various dissenting and potential and real unusual suspects. The spies report is retold by Coleridge in a way that makes him sound like an innocent and the whole thing hilarious, but the spying was serious. What saved them was they were recognized (according to Johnston) as “disaffected Englishmen.” I admit this does not make much sense to me – the other people the gov’t went after were disaffected Englishmen. If they were discussing some serious issues, the man could have reported it by word of mouth. My guess is the gov’t saw they were poets and not organizers and would not attract followers or organize themselves. Spy nozy was the man’s interpretation of Spinoza: the incident shows class disdain – Johnston does not mention this. It does show the group were spied upon, monitored.

Chapter 13: “Whispering Tongues can poison truth: Coleridge and Thelwall, 1796-1798. This chapter is about a thwarted friendship and stunted growth of a group of people. Coleridge corresponds with and seems to be eager to have Thelwall and his family come and live there – it’s so cheap and they will spend their lives in this retreat. Thelwall so harassed and destroyed seemed eager to reciprocate but when he left Coleridge wrote letters discouraging him to come after all. What happened? Was Coleridge somehow pressured lest he involve the Wordsworths, himself chickened out?

We see that he thought the better of it – rightly feared the results for all concerned, that in fact that spy system was operating to disseminate any grouping, silence them all – but he comes out very badly in these letters as he writhes and turns. Thelwall and Wordsworth truer to themselves than Coleridge. Johnston produces a letter by Coleridge to a magistrate Chubb where instead of really persuading Chubb to help Thelwall live there, Coleridge insinuates Thelwall will be a risk. Johnston seems to me to misread a bit of Coleridge’s letter to Chubb: Johnston says Coleridge is promising to tame Thelwall by having Thelwall live near them; Coleridge’s words suggestthey will teach Thelwall to submit. There is a difference even if the outcome is the same.

This chapter has new material: Johnston directs the reader to Wordsworth’s dramatic poem or play (done in the 1950s), The Borderers, which Johnston characterizes as “one of the most searching examinations of post-revolutionary disillusionment and despair ever written, with insights worthy of Stendhal, and Tolstoy, many of them distilled from Wordsworth’s main source, Schiller’s Robbers.” It was read aloud by the group. Johnston goes over Coleridge’s ode “Fire, Famine, Slaughter” and shows it to be a startlingly brave revolutionary poem.

BamburghCstl-GirtinBorderers
Bamburgh Castle, Northumberland, by Thomas Girtin, circa 1797-9 “I think I see a second range of towers”: The Borderers (1797-99) (Mortimer to Rivers as they approach the ruined castle, Act II, scene iii)

My reading of this play: I first read some articles on The Borderers because it is more than a little incoherent and unreadable and exists in two slightly different versions with the characters renamed. To be played (at an American university) it had to be revised once again. I see in the play (which is called gothic by some) a number of the motifs that powerfully resonate today. The play’s villain wants to fool or drive this hero into killing someone — so as to make him share in some blood guilt and join this band of revolutionaries. The villain does believe the old man guilty of being part of the ancien regime and holding it up. In Wordsworth’s play the old man starves and freezes to death because the hero lives him on a heath to die since the hero hasn’t got the stomach or whatever it takes to kill him outright. So the play shows us an example of someone being murdered for his ideology. The 18th century parallels might be guillotined people, but the way Wordsworth writes has no specific reference. The characters do feel there is evidence against the old man, but there is no trial so the modern parallel is killing people using drones with nothing more than the evidence of surveillance, or captured people tortured or driven to “confess” The archetype is the blind Oedipus led by his daughter, Antigone. In Schiller’s play a villain drives the hero to stab his beloved (the heroine) through the heart.

In one of the Northanger novels, Horrid Mysteries, there’s a Rosicrucian scene of ritual introduction of a member to the sect, and one of the things the new member must promise is to kill whomever the group requires — whether the person is a relative or friend doesn’t matter. Unlike Wordsworth’s play, Horrid Mysteries does not bother to justify the demand at all — it’s not a serious book. Wordsworth’s play is. The use of the pathetic daughter makes the murder more abhorrent, but its justifications are spelled out too. Wordsworth has some characteristic gothic motifs, and understands why the outlaw might operate or feel this way, but he stands outside and condemns the outlaw who demands such an act and the act too. One problem with The Borderers than as political discourse is by using the fantasy elements of gothic, Wordsworth does not bring in the real French case — the allied armies massing in Europe to attack the new revolutionary group, the fomenting of counter-revolution in the countryside, some of the causes of the terror – which killed less people than the French 2nd republic did in 1870-71.

Johnson does persuade us of Thelwall’s tragic loss, how hurt he must have been, and how this sort of thing is done to people unanswerably. Excellent chapter hard to summarize to do it justice

Chapter 14: Wordsworth (1770-1850), The Prelude and Posterity. This chapter brings out the problem with the book: it depends upon assuming a counter-factual “what if:” Johnstone assumes Wordsworth’s Prelude would have made a big positive impact if it had been published at the time; he says at one point that all masterpieces do, and works exist in this ideal realm modifying one another – we are back in Matthew Arnold and T.S. Eliot’s probably dream world of a tiny intellectual elite which even they would disagree on.

He does show that the incident of the spy leading to the non-renewal of Wordsworths’s lease, despite all uncomfortable denials, made a great change in the Wordsworths lives: some good, they went to Germany, some probably bad, they lost a companion. He insists that Byron and Shelley would have been changed, their poetry different – for the better. And he brings out three different versions of a long passage in The Prelude showing Wordsworth was bitter and recognized justice and liberty killed insofar as powers could. The chapter also has excellent definition of hegemonic versus legal: the dangers to all these romantics come from the losses hegemonic pervasive control inflicts on them in all sorts of incalculable ways.

***********************

PacoRibeira-18thCentury
PacoRibeira, 18th century Portugal

Chapter 15: More Radical than Thou, Robert Southey (1774-1843). This was an eye-opener for me. For the first time I felt I understood why Southey changed his outlook. It made sense of his satiric Letters from England: it fits into the trajectory. The chapter begins with how how originally Southey came to be radical beyond that it was in him to be “psychologically rebellious.” Johnston brings out how Southey was subject to adults and authority figures around him (more than such a person would be today); orphaned, lived with aunt and then uncle; buffeted by suspicion and discouragement. He was gotten into by his uncle, Herbert Hill, and then expelled from Westminster Schools for a a column in The Flagellant, a student periodical, where he exposed the viciousness of flogging. Headmaster sabotaged his admission to Christ Church, Oxford; uncle gets him into Balliol. Not keen on career choices. 1795 aunt kicks him out, uncle sends him to Lisbon. How from an American perspective the scheme for a Pantisocracy in eastern Penn is not outrageous unreal wild idea. Southey works hard to make it happen and in the process forges career as money-making writer; early work is readable and radical, Fall of Robespierre, Wat Tyler. Anti-Jacobin attacks him, but he did not organize and his poems also simply express unhappy emotional states. Others: “After Blenheim,” “Devil’s Thoughts,” and “History:”Southey wants to escape; Clio says the worse history gets, the more we should write about it; but Southey tired, Gilbert Wakefield case spells end of freedom of press (with Flower, on trial for sedition). Visits Wakefield & Flower, also attacked income tax. Now great relief when sent to Lisbon; departure for Lake District in 1803 a surrender.

InPraiseOfChimneySweepers

Chapter 16: Radical in Lamb’s Cloak: Charles Lamb (1775-1834). This chapter is enormously enjoyable because of the quotations and works referred to. Johnston opens with young Charles Lamb’s enthusiasm over Thelwall (accused of treason, acquitted and thereafter harassed and his career and livelihood and reputation destroyed) to Coleridge; identified viscerally, admired Thelwall’s bravery. Lamb’s reputation has suffered because of the spread of the adjective “gentle” and “gentle-hearted” beginning with Coleriage; Lamb asked him to blot the expression out of his “Lime Tree Bower my Prison;” sentimental obfuscation is a good disguise. Lamb was one of those attacked by Anti-Jacobin. His sonnets express emotion, are on friendship, which he needed. Johnston retells story of Mary’s murder of the mother and how Lamb taking on life-long responsibility for her limited his possibilities; 33 years as clerk for long hours in East India Company, endless moving. His early writing is virulently pro-French revolution found in extended runs of Albion, edited by John Fenwick (1801-2) – all anonymous. His signed self-presentation was highly self-protective; he shows how Jacobinism is used as a bad-mouthing word for people with humane decent agendas; Lamb in effect describes political profiling.

Lamb’s finest work though found in his later years in his essays. Thomas McFarland described these as in a style that manifests the politics of survival (p. 282), others called his ways “acquiescent protest” and “serious levity.”

I read “The Praise of Chimney Sweeps” and found it to be quietly savagely ironic; he seems to be celebrating what is horrific cruelty to these boys; a nightmare world which produces such creatures; “Modern Gallantry” explicit about how courtesy from males is only to limited group of upper class females; the rest are prey. You have to read the texts to get this.

Johnston argues that the idiosyncracy of Lamb’s style and perspective is another result of these decades of repression of all dissent, active republican politics. Lamb expresses outrage at social injustice rather than a considered political opinion. Thomas de Quincey writes of the tabooing of Holcroft, Godwin, Wollstonecraft, Hazlitt, there to offer up to hated and scorn, so Lamb’s way was to appear to care nothing for politics.

************************

burnsfuneral
Death of Robert Burns, engraving, Dumfries July 1796

Chapter 17: ‘A man for a’ that’: Robert Burns (1759-96)

A moving chapter which presents Burns as having been far more politically and preciselyi radical and pro-French revolution than his works let on: Johnstone argues that the muddled feel of the texts is the result of a deliberate obfuscation Burns had to practice lest he lose his place or job, and a remarkable line by Burns: “for who can write and speak as thou and I – /My periods that deciphering defy (p. 303). Johnston says his views accord with Crawford’s but Crawford’s ODNB Life of Burns presents a far more complicated picture of a nationalistic poet as devoted to poetry as art and gathering texts and a human man with lots of failings. Here one can see that Johnston is skewing evidence by concentrating on a few years in the 1790s, and ignores Burns’s behavior towards women which was highly irresponsible (and surely callous and/or indifferent): Burns had sex sufficiently so often with so many women that he impregnated so many that it’s hard to keep count.

Burns is presented as someone writing sedition which he kept up even after authorities set upon him; he was far more vulnerable than English counterparts (more upper class): he would just have been fired, no need to stage a trial. The period covered is 1791-196: he quotes a contemporary explaining why Burns was isolated to some extent in his last years – after Edinburgh trip; “exiled from polite society on account of his radical opinions, he became sourer in temper & plunged more deeply into dissipations of the lower ranks…. “but this reads like bad-mouthing: Burn always drank & was promiscuous; he suffered depressions, he was ill; much of the argument depends on an analysis of select poems and how his enemies did what they could to ruin him: they could have been after him for his sexual misconduct, hatred of religious hypocrisy; that he gave some spoils due him as exciseman to the revolution is too much pressed; he followed what was happening abroad. Johnston tells of an incident where Burns tricked into exposure when he thinks all the men are going to aggressively assail a favorite woman – a dirty trick which reminds me of other accounts of upper class people humiliating lower class or vulnerable and sensitive people among them: Tom Branson tricked (Downton Abbey) or an incident in Dance to the Music of Time (where a bucket of urine is timed to spill over a door as the victim emerges), in Burney’s diaries at Streatham. Burns openly praised a theatrical epilogue praising Wollstonecraft and then worried because he knew he was monitored and at risk of losing job. The struggles “not quite ancient” which correspond to earlier are not French but local, Thomas Muir, later indicted, convicted, transported. A glued over piece of paper. The most effective parts of the argument come from the poems analysed, not well known – he identifying with someone imprisoned for debt, Esopus to Maria

william-blake-albion-s-angel-frontispiece-to-america-a-prophecy-c-1821
Frontispiece to America, A Prophecy (Blake was indeed prophetic — think of what is happening around the world today as a result of the present US’s oligarchy and military’s uses of power

Chapter 18: Blake’s America, the Prophecy that failed, William Blake (1757-1827). In this chapter again Johnston dwells on important personal kinds of experience others often overlook or don’t tell clearly.

Blake’s Jerusalem reminds me of Austen’s Plan of a Novel – actually the same use of private references, same pathetic lack of range, and same absolute rejection of mainstream cliches, tropes, values.

An incident in 1803 where Blake hustled a private out of his garden at Felpham for having insulted him (as Blake thought); for this Blake was arraigned and tried, with quotations that make him sound as ripe for hanging or transportation. Luckily, Hayley, Blake’s patron, was powerful in this area and got character witnesses, himself was a character witness, helped see Blake was arraigned as a “public nuisance” (though this reminds me of police moving into private people’s apartments and shooting them). Johnston says Blake was shocked into silence. Chicester assizes at time of Despard’s execution. Lennox, 3rd Duke of Richmond hostile to Blake, thought to make an example of Blake as a seditionist would be to shore himself up as unimpeachably patriotic after being part of groups advocating parliamentary reform. In later years Blake claimed someone had been sent to entrap him.

In London Blake completed 1st version of masterwork, Jerusalem: the people who were involved in this incident are immortalized in the poem – along with great names from European history, cultural history; reviewers didn’t like (or understand) poem or visionary art. Contrast to America, written 10 years earlier (1793), revolution anticipates French, weeping illustrations suggest Blake pessimistic about his prophecies; preface to Milton has clear version of poems prefacing chapters of Jerusalem. Johnston shows how America is a very odd sort of poem – not understood by most, combining revenge, private feelings, vast public allegory.

***********************

london-debtors-prison-na-debtor-in-fetters-at-the-marshalsea-prison-london-england-line-engraving-18th-century-granger
An 18th century engraving of a debtor in the Marshalsea

Coda: Johnson answers the people who say, so what? and there is nothing unusual here, what did they expect, they deserved it. He begins with how Pitt was responsible for bad policy (Barrell in his review of Johnston’s book asks why Pitt is so respected and argues he was an awful prime minister; his early speeches on behalf of reform were political grandstanding). Johnston goes on to show how Pitt poked mean fun at writers he persecuted and stigmatized. He then reprints Liu’s heart-felt preface to a book on this period that these people matter: again he is discussing writing we could have had, are struggling to recover. Liu’s and other books include the writing we have that bears witness to the struggle and how it happened and so does Johnston’s. He urges us, let us recover what we can. It will show us how the people and their movements fail. Johnston calls this discouraging, but he is himself still a believer with Wordsworth and has faith in social man. We are to feel humanely for these people – multiply it out – recognize that such things do matter. He records and honor the ruined lives – we can see more deeply into what is half-there and into our own lives. He makes us see their works freshly in terms that connect to us.

Occupy-Movement-Grows
The US Occupy Movement in its early stages — still plus ça change, moins ça change; see my “No pretense of regard for life or humanity.”

Ellen

Author: ellenandjim

Ellen Moody holds a Ph.D in British Literature and taught in American senior colleges for more than 40 years. Since 2013 she has been teaching older retired people at two Oscher Institutes of Lifelong Learning, one attached to American University (Washington, DC) and other to George Mason University (in Fairfax, Va). She is also a literary scholar with specialties in 18th century literature, translation, early modern and women's studies, film, nineteenth and 20th century literature and of course Trollope. For Trollope she wrote a book on her experiences of reading Trollope on the Internet with others, some more academic style essays, two on film adaptations, the most recent on Trollope's depiction of settler colonialism: "On Inventing a New Country." Here is her website: http://www.jimandellen.org/ellen/ No part of this blog may be reproduced without express permission from the author/blog owner. Linking, on the other hand, is highly encouraged!

9 thoughts on “Kenneth Johnston’s Unusual Suspects, Parts 4-6, Coda”

  1. Ellen,
    Thanks for the in-depth review of what sounds like a fascinating book. I have ordered it through interlibrary loan. Wikipedia mentions that Austen used the term pride and prejudice in the same way that Bage did in Hermsprong, a book you say she had–and one must imagine– read. Hermsprong would be interesting to look at as a source for P&P–we also see the influence of LAMB (at least very likely) in the Emma charade.

    1. The phrase occurs at the close of Cecilia, and I half-remember seeing it in a Charlotte Smith novel. It seems to have been a familiar phrase (almost) as was Sense and Sensibility (Anna Lefroy called it a cliche). But Austen probbly did read Hermsprong. She was a great reader of novels. Johnston’s book is very readable – meant to be.

  2. Thanks Ellen! Land of hope and glory…

    Here are a few lines from my “Dictionnaire philosophique” exhibition in Ferney this year, which suggest that more than one generation was lost. The tract mentioned was a sheet printed to announce a translation of the “Dictionnaire philosophique”, due to be published in parts by Shorter and Carlile.

    > L’édition du Dictionnaire philosophique annoncée par ce tract ne semble pas avoir été terminée. Elle aurait repris le texte de celle publiée à Londres en 1819 par B. Johnson, sans doute le même Johnson que l’imprimeur du tract. Si on a peu d’informations sur la vie de l’éditeur Robert Shorter, rédacteur de la Theological comet, or freethinking Englishman (1819), son co-éditeur Richard Carlile (1790-1843, ci-contre) est l’une des figures les plus connues du mouvement radical anglais de la première moitié du XIXe siècle. Éditeur d’un journal à succès, The Republican, Carlile fut emprisonné deux fois pour ses activités éditoriales, plus de huit ans au total. Il s’est servi d’un de ses procès pour lire à haute voix, dans le tribunal, la totalité de l’ouvrage interdit de Thomas Paine, The Age of reason. La publication du procès-verbal d’un procès étant permise, c’est ainsi que cet ouvrage capital a pu continuer à être diffusé a!
    uprès du public anglais.
    >
    > Ce sont les Américains qui ont su réparer l’honneur des Anglo-Saxons en publiant, quelques années plus tard, une édition exceptionnelle du Dictionnaire philosophique. Parue à Boston en 1836, en deux volumes, avec des « additional notes, both critical and argumentative », l’édition préparée par Abner Kneeland avait une particularité, celle de vouloir supplanter la Bible.
    >
    > Comme Carlile, Kneeland a eu des problèmes avec les autorités. Accusé d’avoir publié des textes scandaleux, impies, obscènes, blasphématoires et profanes au sujet de Dieu – il semble que l’article « Circoncision » du Dictionnaire philosophique y était pour quelque chose –, il fut emprisonné dans le Massachusetts pendant soixante jours en 1838. L’apport exceptionnel de son édition était l’insertion de pages blanches, encadrées, destinées à remplacer les pages libres des Bibles familiales : dorénavant, ce n’est plus Dieu qui aurait eu la place centrale dans la famille, mais Voltaire. On connaît le succès de cette initiative…

    One of the editions displayed is that published in London by William Dugdale in 1843. Dugdale inspired the Obscene publications acts of 1857, by mixing radical literature with pornography. He died in prison in 1868.

    By the by, I am still looking for a copy of the 1836 Boston edition, complete with the blank pages of course.

    Andrew Brown

    1. Thank you, Andrew. I suppose part of Johnston’s point was this was a peculiar time, not usual. More trials for treason and sedition than any other period in UK history he says. Johnston wants us not to accept this as what cannot be done anything about; to make visible what is being engineered, deliberately done, and to be actuated by the conviction it could be otherwise. Ellen

  3. On one the listservs where I announced this blog, someone cited John Barrell’s review of Johnston’s book. It is excellent; unfortunately it is the only review in academic or wide-spread mainstream journals for readers that I’ve found, and is behind a pay-wall:

    So, to cite where Barrell’s excellent review is precisely so people might find it: London Review of Books, 36:2, 23 January 2014, pp. 17-19. Unfortunately it’s behind a pay wall except for the opening where Barrell refreshingly questions the usual presentation of Pitt the younger as having been a great (=worthy) prime minister: the title of the essay-review is “To Stir Up the People.”

    http://www.lrb.co.uk/v36/n02/john-barrell/to-stir-up-the-people

    I include the real objection one might expect: someone in a lengthy comment says one there was no widespread consistent reign of alarm by Pitt and his government, and anyway what existed came from the property owning classes rightly worried. Barrell’s book and the others cited by him are of course the answer but he patiently and ironically replies.

    John Barrell seeks to establish that the alarm of the 1790s was conjured up by Pitt and his allies to justify a war and to fix a ‘French taint’ on the reform movement (LRB, 23 January). He goes on to note the topical ‘equivalences’ between the Pitt ministry in the 1790s and governments of this century as ‘they tiptoe stealthily but steadily towards totalitarianism’.

    Yes, some resonances do spring to mind. Faced with a growing sense of alarm at the writings and activities inspired by the French Revolution and Tom Paine’s Rights of Man, the Pitt ministry encouraged enhanced use of the law of seditious libel and began to introduce acts – most of them time-limited – that suspended Habeas Corpus, redefined the law of treason, restricted large meetings without the permission of a magistrate, banned unlawful oaths and suppressed seditious societies.

    But the documentary evidence shows that at the outset this wasn’t so much ‘Pitt’s alarm’ as an alarm initiated by the Anglican property-owning classes closest to the centres of unrest. The correspondence that started to flood in from the provinces in the last quarter of 1792 shows how quickly fears were mounting. According to Pitt’s biographer John Ehrman, it might suddenly have seemed to his ministers that ‘nothing like this had been seen in England before.’

    The ministry’s main problem was a lack of any means of verifying this alarming information, and in particular reports relating to the acquisition of arms. The Home Office at this time had a staff of less than two dozen, four of whom were under 16. Even when its work was supplemented in the following years by a poorly documented Aliens’ Office and an embryonic secret service, the ministry was still forced to rely on random reports, mail intercepts and an unreliable spy network. But there was no need for it to invent a myth to fix a French taint on those who became known as English Jacobins: they made no secret of their sympathies, some even holding fast after the September massacres and Robespierre’s Terror in spite of what E.P. Thompson called ‘that profound disenchantment, in an intellectual generation which had identified its beliefs in a too ardent and utopian way with the cause of France’.

    Even if the Pitt ministry had wanted to tiptoe towards a totalitarian state, there would have been formidable obstacles in its way. It is easy to slip into the assumption that 18th-century governments had at their disposal comprehensive powers of surveillance and law enforcement comparable to those of a 21st-century state. Under the devolved and random system it inherited, law enforcement powers were firmly lodged with the local magistracy, which was a deeply entrenched feature of the 18th-century constitution, jealous of its independence from central government. The inadequacy of the system was particularly evident in the fast-growing English manufacturing towns, where the discontent was greatest, particularly in places like Sheffield, Manchester and Birmingham, which came under county jurisdiction. Typically, county magistrates didn’t live in the towns they were meant to serve. While some were rabid loyalists, others had a background in the reform movement; others were accused of being intimidated by the radical upsurge.

    Attempts to construct a system more responsive to central control, particularly in the provinces, were ruled out by hostility to anything savouring of excessive government control or ‘French-style police’. The Proclamation against Seditious Writings of May 1792 was attacked by the opposition in Parliament as an attempt to turn magistrates into government spies and informers. In November 1792 an attempt to bypass local magistrates by sending agents into the provinces to purchase seditious writings with a view to prosecution was described by the foreign secretary, Lord Grenville, in private correspondence as ‘a thing that can be done but once, and could not be continued without an expense equal to that of the old French police. Our laws suppose magistrates and Grand Juries to do this duty, and if they do not do it, I have little faith in its being done by a Government such as the Constitution has made ours.’

    The prosecutions for seditious libel that followed in the next two years were unevenly spread across the country, and were noticeably sparse in the most disaffected towns, like Norwich or Sheffield, which lacked an effective local loyalist organisation to compensate for lack of action by local magistrates. For nearly two and a half years from late 1791 until June 1794 the Sheffield Register and its editor, Joseph Gales, continued, unmolested by the law, to act as the mouthpiece of radical societies throughout the country and to publish the first cheap edition of Rights of Man. Later on, when emergency laws were enacted, they were rarely used. As the historian Frank McLynn put it, ‘Pitt’s England lacked the technology, bureaucracy and enforcement procedure to make truly repressive legislation bite.’

    Ian Smith
    Norwich

    Vol. 36 No. 5 · 6 March 2014

    Ian Smith takes exception to my treatment of Pitt’s alarm in my review of Kenneth Johnston’s Unusual Suspects (Letters, 20 February). I suggested that Pitt had attempted to fix a French taint on the reform societies in Britain in the 1790s. But the members of those societies, Smith points out, ‘made no secret of their sympathies’ with the Revolution in France. Quite so: a good number of liberals, and even a few Members of Parliament, persisted in believing that the Revolution was a good thing, or supported the Revolution because they supported the right of the French to choose their own form of government. But there is very little evidence that members of the reform societies wanted a violent revolution in Britain, or were committed to more than universal manhood suffrage and frequent elections; often their main reason for demanding both was to put an end to the corruption that had infected Parliament and kept men like Pitt in power. A few may have been republicans, even on the Jacobin model, but they were not dumb enough to attempt to win support for reform by arguing for the king to be deposed. And they were scarcely ‘Jacobin revolutionaries’, as Pitt chose to represent them.

    To this Smith replies that if there was indeed very little evidence, this was because Pitt’s sources of information, far from being formidable as I had claimed, were too few and too feeble to uncover it. Like some of the alarmists in Pitt’s cabinet, he must believe that the lack of evidence of a violent revolutionary movement proves only that the movement was well concealed. Much of his letter is concerned with the inefficiency of the provincial magistracy in uncovering local instances of what he calls the ‘radical upsurge’, with the implication that a more efficient law-enforcement system would have revealed something truly sinister and dangerous. If there was no smoke, Smith implies, there was probably a fire.

    It came as a shock to learn, after twenty years and more researching the reform movement in the 1790s and the government of William Pitt, that I seriously believed that Pitt’s government had at its disposal ‘comprehensive powers of surveillance and law enforcement comparable to those of a 21st-century state’. I thought I believed something rather different, simply that Pitt’s sources of information were quite formidable enough to uncover any serious radical threat to the state. However impoverished the government’s intelligence may have been, Pitt must have known certain things. He must have known that the reform societies had succeeded in attracting very few members. Even at the height of Smith’s ‘radical upsurge’, the London Corresponding Society could muster only three thousand members, and it was many times larger than any other such organisation. To persuade themselves that there was a danger of revolution in Britain, the government would have had to believe that the societies had huge numbers of secret, armed supporters, strategically kept in the shadows, with the potential to overwhelm the military who were stationed all over the country.

    The main problem for the government, Smith says, was that it had no means of verifying reports relating, in particular, to the acquisition of arms by the reform societies. Frustratingly for the government, evidence that the societies were arming for a revolution, wherever it was discovered, turned out to amount to almost nothing. There was the coup planned in Edinburgh by a government spy or former spy, who may have been an agent provocateur, and who had caused to be manufactured forty or so pikeheads. There was evidence of a few pikes being made in Sheffield, and of a handful in London made by attaching knives to broom-handles. Pikes were defensive weapons; the interest radicals had in acquiring them, such as it was, was as a means of resisting the attempts of loyalists to disrupt their meetings, and to claim what they regarded as their civic right to bear defensive arms. A credible revolutionary alarm would have to depend on the discovery of firearms in large numbers.

    Quite how the reformers could be supposed to have acquired them in secret was a puzzle to some of Pitt’s opponents in Parliament, but the government seemed to strike gold when spies reported the formation in London of an armed revolutionary society, the Loyal Lambeth Association, which at its height had 18 muskets – rather more than it ever had members. It was heavily infiltrated by spies, whose reports suggest that the maximum attendance at any meeting of the association was eight. Once it was as few as three, two of whom, unknown to each other, were spies. Undaunted, the government announced that the association was one of several similar groups in London of whose existence it apparently had no evidence. The complete inventory of arms discovered in the possession of members of the LCS is listed in a helpful government paper, ‘General State of the Evidence as to Arming’, which suggested that the leaders of the society were planning the violent overthrow of the government with fewer arms than could have been found in a small country house.

    John Barrell
    Brilley, Herefordshire

    E.M.

  4. A friend who works on Charles Burney sent me this passage from Burney’s letters from 1794:

    Public affairs have gone so ill lately, and appeared so hopeless in perspective, that I felt a repugnance to the introduction of my triste contenance, even on paper, into your cheerful Mansion. Nothing indeed, has not happened to shorten my face, but the quiet execution of Master Watt. The fate of Horne Tooke & Co. I await for with some degree of anxiety. Not that I am so bloody-minded as to wish all to share the fate of Watt; but a few of them I do sincerely wish hanged, in mercy to many thousands, that the want of courage to make an example of a few may render more intrepid in Jacobincal exertions against everything that can render the life of rational creatures desirable.

    I replied:

    I have been reading FBA’s early journals and letters, Vol 1 and been struck by how alert she is to the slightest subversive thought in her reading. Not a single pessimistic implication will she allow in conversation if the conversation gets serious enough to discuss issues. I’m thinking of her objections to Arthur Young’s melancholy. I know her books are conservative and yes regret it but did not quite know how tenacious she was. I’m glad to see the passage because it teaches me something I would not expect: I really would not expect CB to rejoice at the hanging of a man who murdered no one, made no victims of any kind. I realize that the death penalty was accepted for forgery and people were transported (enslaved for years in effect) for minor theft. He is anxious these people should be hanged “pour encourager les autres” as Voltaire put this ironically in Candide. He does not conceive that so many people have so little desirable in their lives — yet he himself climbed up wit his first wife and in his routine peregrinations for pupils must have seen much in the streets.

    Goodwin, Barrell and Poole and now Johnston make a strong case for reformist and radical thought to have been widespread; except maybe for quoting the powerful politicians like Pitt they do not quote what was equally widespread: ferocious oppostion. Madame de Stael’s novels have aristocratic males who if you as a revolutionary did not guillotine them, would have drawn and quartered you.

    E.M.

Leave a comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.