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.