The Whig Revolution of 1688 led to
very deep and very wide disaffection among Catholics, High Churchmen,
Congregationalists, Baptists, Quakers and others.
Within those subcultures,
long after the death of the Stuart cause as such with Cardinal York in 1807,
there persisted a feeling that Hanoverian Britain, her Empire, and that
Empire’s capitalist ideology, imported and at least initially controlled from
William of Orange’s Netherlands, were less than fully legitimate.
This was to
have startlingly radical consequences.
First in seventeenth-century England
and then in the eighteenth-century France that looked to that precedent,
gentry-cum-mercantile republican absolutism was an inversion of Jean Bodin’s
princely absolutism, itself an Early Modern aberration.
But what of the
creation of a gentry-cum-mercantile republic in the former American Colonies?
Did it, too, ultimately derive from reaction against the Stuarts, inverting
their newfangled ideology against them?
No, it ultimately derived from loyalty
to them, a loyalty which regarded the Hanoverian monarchy as illegitimate.
Since 1776 predates 1789, the American
Republic is not a product of the Revolution, but nevertheless sits under a radically
orthodox theological critique, most obviously by reference to pre-Revolutionary
traditions of Catholic and Protestant republican thought.
On the Catholic side, that is perhaps Venetian. On the Protestant side, it is perhaps Dutch. On both sides, it is
perhaps to be found at cantonal level in Switzerland, where it is possible that such
thought might hold sway even now.
There simply were Protestant Dutch Republics
before the Revolution. There simply was a Catholic Venetian Republic before the
Revolution. There simply were, and there simply are, Protestant and Catholic
cantons in Switzerland, predating the Revolution. The literature must be there,
for those who can read the languages sufficiently well.
Furthermore, there is
no shortage of Americans whose ancestors came from the Netherlands or from
Italy, and there may well be many who assume from their surnames that their
bloodline is German or Italian (or possibly French) when in fact it is Swiss.
It is time for a few of them to go looking for these things, with a view to
applying them as the radically orthodox theological critique of that
pre-Revolutionary creation, the American Republic.
Within that wider context, far more
Jacobites went into exile from these Islands than Huguenots sought refuge here.
The Jacobites founded the Russian Navy of Peter the Great. They maintained a
network of merchants in the ports circling the Continent. Their banking
dynasties had branches in several great European cities. They introduced much
new science and technology to their host countries. They dominated the Swedish
East India and Madagascar Companies. They fought with the French in India.
And
very many of them ended up either in the West Indies or in North America. New
York seems the most obvious place to look for them, being named after its initial
proprietor as a colony, the future James VII and II.
The Highlanders in North
Carolina spoke Gaelic into the 1890s, but in vain had the rebellious
legislature there issued a manifesto in that language a century earlier: like
many people of directly Scots rather than of Scots-Irish origin or descent,
they remained loyal to the Crown during the Revolutionary War.
However, there were many Jacobite
Congregationalists, such as Edward Roberts, the exiled James’s emissary to the
anti-Williamite Dutch republics, and Edward Nosworthy, a gentleman of his Privy
Council both before and after 1688. There was that Catholic enclave, Maryland.
And there was Pennsylvania: almost, if almost, all of the Quakers were at least
initially Jacobites, and William Penn himself was arrested for Jacobitism four
times between 1689 and 1691.
Many Baptists were also Jacobites, and the name,
episcopal succession and several other features of the American Episcopal
Church derive, not from the Church of England, but from the staunchly Jacobite
Episcopal Church in Scotland, which provided the American Colonies with a
bishop, Samuel Seabury, in defiance of the Church of England and of the
Hanoverian monarchy to which it was attached.
Early Methodists were regularly
accused of Jacobitism. John Wesley himself had been a High Church missionary in
America, and Methodism was initially an outgrowth of pre-Tractarian, often at
least sentimentally Jacobite, High Churchmanship. Very many people conformed to
the Established Church but either refused to take the Oath or declared that
they would so refuse if called upon to take it.
With its anti-Calvinist
soteriology, it high sacramentalism and Eucharistic theology, and its hymnody
based on the liturgical year, early Methodism appealed to them. Wesley also
supported, and corresponded with, William Wilberforce, even refusing tea
because it was slave-grown; indeed, Wesley’s last letter was to Wilberforce.
They wrote as one High Tory to another.
Wilberforce was later a friend of
Blessed John Henry Newman, whose Letter to the Duke of Norfolk
constitutes the supreme Catholic contribution to the old Tory tradition of the
English Confessional State, in the same era as Henry Edward Manning’s Catholic
social activism, and the beginning of Catholic Social Teaching’s strong
critique of both capitalism and Marxism.
Whiggery, by contrast, had produced a
“free trade” even in “goods” that were human beings. The coalition against the
slave trade contained no shortage of Methodists, Baptists, Congregationalists
or Quakers.
Yet the slave trade was integral to the Whig Empire’s capitalist
ideology. If slavery were wrong, then something was wrong at a far deeper
level. James Edward Oglethorpe, a Jacobite, opposed slavery in Georgia.
Anti-slavery Southerners during the American Civil War were called “Tories”.
Radical Liberals were anti-capitalist in their opposition to opium dens, to
unregulated drinking and gambling, and to the compelling of people to work
seven-day weeks, all of which have returned as features of the British scene.
Catholics, Methodists,
Congregationalists, Baptists and Quakers fought as one for the extension of the
franchise and for other political reforms.
It was Disraeli, a Tory, who doubled
the franchise in response to that agitation. To demand or deliver such change
called seriously into question the legitimacy of the preceding Whig oligarchy.
It is almost impossible to overstate the importance of Catholicism, of the
Anglo-Catholicism that High Churchmanship mostly became at least to some
extent, of the Baptist and Reformed (including Congregational) traditions, and,
above all, of Methodism, to the emergence and development of the Labour
Movement.
Quakerism and Methodism, especially
the Primitive and Independent varieties, were in the forefront of opposition to
the First World War, which also produced the Guild of the Pope’s Peace, and
which had a following among Anglo-Catholics of either of what were then the
more extreme kinds, “English Use” and “Western Use”. Each of those included
Jacobites among, admittedly, its many eccentrics.
Above all in Wales, where
Catholic sentiment was still widely expressed in the old tongue well into the
eighteenth century, Quakers and Methodists had very recently stood shoulder to
shoulder with Presbyterians, Congregationalists and Baptists, including Lloyd
George, against the Boer War.
Paleoconservatives who would rightly
locate the great American experiment within a wider British tradition need to
recognise that that tradition encompasses the campaign against the slave trade,
the Radical and Tory use of State action against social evils, the extension of
the franchise, the creation of the Labour Movement, and the opposition to the
Boer and First World Wars.
All of those arose out of disaffection with Whiggery, with
the Whigs’ imported capitalist system, with their imported dynasty, and with
that system’s and that dynasty’s Empire.
A disaffection on the part of Catholics,
High Churchmen (and thus first Methodists and then also Anglo-Catholics, as
well as Scottish and therefore also American Episcopalians), Congregationalists,
Baptists, Quakers and others.
Behind these great movements for
social justice and for peace was still a sense that the present British State
(not any, but the one then in existence) was itself somehow less than fully
legitimate.
In other words, the view that there was ultimately something
profoundly wrong about this country and her policies, both domestic and
foreign, was a distant echo of an ancestral Jacobitism.
Radical action for
social justice and for peace derived from testing the State and its policies
against theologically grounded criteria of legitimacy.
It still does.