The Historian, Second Volume, Third Issue by The Historian

The Historian, Vol. 2, No. 3

Volume Two, Number Three March 2013

The Historian, Vol. 2, No. 3

Table of Contents Editorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Note

Page 2

The Decline of Serfdom

Page 3

Editor & Creator Arthur der Weduwen

Editorial Assistant

The Intentions of Abraham Lincoln Page 11

Andrew Eckert

Post-Civil War Reconstruction Failure in the USA

Page 15

Emergence of the Nation-State

Page 18

Liberal Nationalism: 1780-1848

Page 21

Contributors (order of appearance) Arthur der Weduwen Michael Doyle James Gordon

Who killed the Princes in the tower? Page 24

Carolin Wefer Gender and Katherine Howard

Page 28

Katie Wilkinson Daniel Wood

The Interwar Political Relevance of Women in France

Page 32

Attlee and the 1945 Election

Page 36

Katherine Emery Conor Byrne Hannah Wells

The Goldhagen Thesis

Page 39

William Griffiths Frederick Bell

Cover Design Lydia Murtezaoglu

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Editor’s Note By Arthur der Weduwen Dear reader, Before you lies yet another edition of The Historian, the History Society’s very own publication. This is the third time of this academic year that I have had the pleasure of creating the journal and compiling a variety of contributions of History students from all disciplines and years. Thus far, the journal continues its stellar growth. The first issue of the second volume contained seven articles spanning eighteen pages, the second nine articles and twenty-five pages, and this third issue presents ten articles over forty-one pages! These articles cover an extensive range of topics. I don’t think it’s useful to restrict the contributions of an issue to a single topic, time period, or discipline, and therefore anyone can write about any historical interest. However, I find it fascinating to see that people come to similar conclusions and approaches without any link to one another. The contributions that I received for this issue have corresponding features and discussions, and I have therefore tried to present them in such a manner that they flow into one another whilst analysing different features of history. This issue opens with a comparative analysis of the decline of serfdom in England and the Low Countries. This is followed by an investigation of Abraham Lincoln’s intentions regarding the abolition of slavery, and a piece on the failure to reconstruct Post-Civil War American society through the lack of re-distribution of land to former slaves. Then, there is an article on the emergence of the nation-state in Europe, focusing on the role of the monarch in uniting the state. This is followed by an analysis of the effect of liberal-nationalism and its role in the turbulent period of 1780 to 1848. Next, a lively discussion of one of the traditional questions in British political history: who killed the princes in the tower? Afterwards, the journal stays in the Tudor times to portray Katherine Howard, the fifth queen of Henry VIII, with a pair of ‘gendered lenses’. The following article also discusses a gendered topic: the political relevance of women in France before the Second World War. Next, an article explains why Clement Attlee beat Churchill in the general election of 1945 to become Prime Minister tasked with the reconstruction of Post-WWII Britain. Lastly, this issue closes with a discussion of the popularity of the controversial Goldhagen Thesis. As stated earlier, the topics in this issue are compiled to cover a wide range of historical discussions. I believe that to any historian, variety of knowledge is the key to success. Hugh TrevorRoper once said that: “Today most historians ‘specialise’. They choose a period, sometimes a very brief period, and within that period they strive, in desperate competition with ever-expanding evidence, to know all the facts. Thus armed, they can comfortably shoot down any amateurs who blunder…into their heavily fortified field…Theirs is a static world…but they have no philosophy. For historical philosophy is incompatible with such narrow frontiers. It must apply to humanity in any period. To test it, a historian must dare to travel abroad, even in hostile country; to express it he must be ready to write essays on subjects on which he may be ill-equipped to write books.” I hope that the articles in this issue will enable you to broaden your critical thought and thereby help you formulate your own historical philosophy. Lastly, I would like to thank you for your continued interest and time. The History Society is planning to publish another issue of the journal during Third Term of the current academic year: if you are interested in contributing then please let me know at ad383@exeter.ac.uk. Have a historical Easter break! 3

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The Decline of Serfdom A Comparative Study of England and the Low Countries By Arthur der Weduwen & Michael Doyle The institution of serfdom maintains a unique place in history. It is often used as a representation of the medieval era, and is closely associated to feudalism. Likewise, the decline of serfdom is regarded to contain close links to the rise of Early Modern European societal developments – from the ‘dark ages’ to humanism. This in itself is not a mistake. As Marc Bloch has argued, serfdom developed directly from slavery, and the former shares many features in common with the latter.1 The decline of serfdom, according to Bloch, created a slightly more ‘humane’ society.2 If one is to agree with this notion, then it surely must be important to assign the decline of serfdom to a certain period of time in the history of Europe. Dates are often proposed for this phenomenon, which range from the fourteenth to the sixteenth centuries for Western Europe3. However, since feudalism, the necessary condition for the existence of serfdom as a social institution,4 prevailed in different forms throughout the medieval period, the singular dating of a decline of serfdom is insufficient. This work seeks to comparatively analyse the decline of serfdom in England and the Low Countries to show that there were completely different reasons for the decline of serfdom in Europe. The first half of this article will examine the decline of serfdom in England, proposing that political reform under

King Edward IV propelled English society away from the feudal institution. The second half will then focus on the Low Countries, arguing that a relatively early decline of serfdom due to ‘bottom-up’ social and geographical factors contributed greatly to the rise of the Dutch Republic as the first Northern capitalist economy. This comparison will hopefully convey that the decline of serfdom in Western Europe was not a structured affair which historians can generalise and assign to a fixed factor of development. England: a Dominium regale or dominium politicum et regale?5 The former constituted an absolute monarchy, the latter, a mixed political monarchy, which was the constitutional settlement in England in the fifteenth century. These were the two types of constitutional system identified by Sir John Fortescue, a loyal Lancastrian servant and the Lord Chief Justice of the King’s Bench in his work, The Governance of England published in the early 1440s.6 The years from 1421 to 1471 were tumultuous and the whiff of corruption surrounding the reign of Henry VI engendered strong reaction from the peasantry.7 Fortescue’s work was a programme of reform intended to save Henry’s kingship. Yet, it was not Henry who would undertake this task of ensuring England remained a dominium politicum et regale. It would be his successor King Edward IV. Although there is no defined end to English serfdom, it is agreed amongst scholars that serfdom in England gradually eroded. I will argue that political reforms undertaken by King Edward IV in the mid-

Marc Bloch, Slavery and Serfdom in the Middle Ages, Trans. William R. Beer (Los Angeles, 1975), pp. 17-20 2 Bloch, Slavery and Serfdom in the Middle Ages, p. 30 3 ‘Later Serfdom’, is the term used to describe serfdom in Central and Eastern Europe, which experienced a wholly different lifespan to Western European serfdom. The former came into existence around the time that the latter declined and disappeared. This work will only analyse the situation of early serfdom in Western Europe. 4 Robert Brenner, ‘The Rises and Declines of Serfdom in Medieval and Early Modern Europe’, in M. L. Bush (ed.), Serfdom & Slavery: Studies in Legal Bondage (New York, 1996), p. 247

C. Plummer, Fortescue on the Governance of England. (London, 1926), p. 109 6 Ibid. p. 109 7 R. Griffiths, The Reign of Henry VI. (London, 1981), p. 629

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England owed’. The rebels demanded a programme of political and financial reform and called for the king to put the ‘commonweal’ of the people first.15 Such a programme of reform was already taking shape. ‘Wherefore me thinketh, that if the king might have his livelihood for the sustenance of his estate in great lordships, manors, fee-farms, and such other demesnes, his people not charged, he should keep to him wholly their hearts.’16 Fortescue observed that Henry’s dysfunctional fiscal policy was going to destroy the Lancastrian dynasty. Moreover, Henry’s personal rule meant that Parliament was ineffective at holding the king to account on matters of taxation. Fortescue suggested a raft of measures to cure the malaise weakening Henry’s kingship, the resumption of royal grants, the establishment of a substantial royal demesne, and an effective royal council to control royal grants in the future.17 If these proposals were not deemed sufficient, then Fortescue proposed a more radical measure, a sales tax enacted by Parliament which would give the king financial security to ‘live of his own’.18 Another threat to the house of Lancaster was Richard, Duke of York. The Duke of York was held up as a paragon of good government by Cade and his rebels, though their rebellion was not an attempted Yorkist putsch.19 Rather, they yearned for a government which was not tainted with fiscal incompetence and favouritism. During the 1450s, Henry slowly slipped into insanity and his authority waned.20 Replacing Suffolk as the driving force in Henry’s household was the

fifteenth century were the first tangible signs that serfdom was coming to an end. This occurred because of reform to the English fiscal system and a new term entered the political lexicon: commonweal. Commonweal was first used by the Kentish rebels led by Jack Cade as they marched into London in July 1450.8 It was Edward IV who placed this term at the heart of his reformist agenda and his reforms to the government machine brought the king closer to his subjects and hastened the end of serfdom. The reign of King Henry VI was beset with difficulties – which were for the most part of his own making. Henry’s penchant for patronage weakened his kingship. William de la Pole was Henry’s favourite amongst his household and was the greatest beneficiary of his patronage.9 He was rewarded with a dukedom in June 1448. The duke of Suffolk concentrated power in his hands and guided Henry’s decisions regarding patronage.10 By 1449, after twelve years of personal rule by Henry, a disorderly political situation had crystallised.11 Incompetence in governance was not just restricted to the domestic realm, for Henry had renewed hostilities with France in May 1449, and suffered military setbacks that led to total defeat.12 The lack of ‘politique rule and governance’ and the fear of reprisals for the murder of the duke of Suffolk triggered Cade’s rebellion.13 The rebellion had been long brewing, Cade’s rebels were unhappy with the king’s patronage and their manifesto outlined their grievances, ‘His false council hath lost his law, his merchandise is lost, his common people is destroyed, the sea is lost, France is lost, the king...oweth more than any king of

P.M. Kendall, The Yorkist Age: Daily Life during the War of the Roses. (London, 1962), p. 468 15 Gairdner, The Historical Collections of a Citizen of London in the Fifteenth Century, p. 191 16 Plummer, Governance, p. 133 17 Ibid. p. 26 18 Ibid. 19 Griffiths, The Reign of King Henry VI, p. 686 20 C. Carpenter, The Wars of the Roses: Politics and the Constitution in England, c. 1437-1509. (Cambridge, 1997), p. 120.

J. Gairdner, The Historical Collections of a Citizen of London in the Fifteenth Century. (London, 1876), p. 191 9 B.P. Wolffe, Henry VI. (London, 1981), p. 112 10 Griffiths, The Reign of Henry VI, p. 366 11 Wolffe, Henry VI, p. 219 12 Ibid. p. 219 13 B.P. Wolffe, The Royal Demesne in English History. (London, 1971), p. 118

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Duke of Somerset, and it was Somerset who would increasingly have to fend off the overt moves made by the Duke of York in his quest for governmental reform and his persistent attacks on the court surrounding Henry.21 Somerset was not inclined towards political reform and was a defender of the status quo of obedience towards the ruler. York was more radical, and put at the heart of his campaign against Somerset the notion of the commonweal, as well as financial probity and good management as a precondition of taxation.22 York had adopted the term used by Cade’s rebels and had added it to the political discourse, legitimising the concerns of the peasantry and the lower orders. Throughout the 1450s the Yorkist manifesto continued to put emphasis on the notion of the commonweal, ‘our true intent to the prosperity and to the commonweal of this realm’.23 The intense political debate of the 1450s manifested itself into civil war. Henry’s health was declining rapidly and he increasingly cut a pathetic figure who no longer engaged with the various battles within his realm.24 The fierce political discourse affected a key constituency of support for Henry VI: the gentry.25 The gentry saw their way of life being disturbed by the dysfunctional state of the English polity; they were not overtly supportive of the Yorkists but calculated that they were more likely to return England to political stability. Even Lancastrian members of the gentry accommodated themselves to Yorkist government such was the necessity of reestablishing a credible regime. On the 25th October 1460, with little remaining support and no queen or trusted advisor, who could give him the strength to resist, Henry disinherited his heir and future heirs in favour of York.26

Henry had ceded all royal power to the Yorkists and the age of drift and incompetence had ceased. In his first Parliament in November 1461, the newly crowned Edward IV thanked the commons for their ‘true hearts and tender considerations’ and that he would be a ‘very rightwise and loving liege lord’.27 Under Edward, the lower house in Parliament supplanted the upper house as the primary decision making body in English governance with a greater emphasis on addressing the

Edward IV

concerns of the commons of England.28 Charles Ross writes that ‘the commons’ docility seems to owe more to royal attempts to influence the composition of their house and to his skilful use of the arts of management rather than to any overt policy of cooperation’.29 Yet, the evidence does not support Ross’s assertion. The amount of parliamentary direct taxation received by Edward was less than half the yearly average of his two predecessors, Henry V and Henry VI.30 Moreover, the frequency of Lancastrian parliaments were due to the dependence on the parliamentary grant, in

Ibid. pp. 120-1 Ibid. 23 J.S. Davies, An English Chronicle of the Reigns of Richard II, Henry IV, Henry V and Henry VI. (London, 1856), p. 81 24 Griffiths, The Reign of King Henry VI, p. 775 25 Carpenter, Wars of the Roses, p. 152 26 Wolffe, Henry VI, p. 325 22

Ibid. p. 342 Kendall, The Yorkist Age, p. 35 29 Ross, Edward IV, p. 341 30 Wolffe, The Royal Demesne in English History, p. 146 28

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Revolt, and Cade’s rebellion focused on Henry VI increasing taxation to the detriment of his subjects. Now, an English king would restrain the costs of the government and put the interests of his subjects before his. He would live off his own. The term commonweal represented a growing affinity between king and subject. England would remain a dominium politicum et regale, and one which would now be more responsive to the grievances of her subjects. Edward IV was a great reforming king who instigated fundamental changes to the governance of England which began the erosion of serfdom.

contrast, Edward and his parliaments were acting in concert to devise other forms of revenue which would not burden his subjects.31 This was what public opinion had demanded and Edward was largely successful in reforming the fiscal system so he would be able to live off his own. Edward’s speech to Parliament in 1467 is an eloquent and vivid explanation of how his subjects would benefit from his reforms to the fiscal system. ‘I purpose to live upon mine own, and not to charge my subjects but in great and urgent causes, concerning more the weal of themselves, and also the defence of them and of this my realm, rather than mine own pleasure’.32 When Edward issued his 1467 Act of Resumption, the language he used was in sharp contrast to his predecessor: ‘For divers causes and considerations concerning the honour, estate, and property of the king, and also of the common weal, defence, surety and welfare of the realm, and his subjects of the same’.33 Edward’s prudent fiscal management meant that by the end of his reign, household expenditure was much lower than that of Henry VI.34 Edward had enacted the reforms proposed by Sir John Fortescue in the 1440s when fiscal incontinence and majority rule threatened the political wellbeing of the kingdom. Commons, commonweal and fiscal reform had interwoven under Edward IV. Fortescue set out to revive and reform the kingship of Henry VI. Yet, he had inadvertently helped Henry’s Yorkist enemies. Edward IV’s reform of the governance of England meant it became much closer to her subjects. Edward’s reforms to the fiscal system see the first tangible signs begin to emerge of serfdom’s decline. Excessive taxation had been the main source of the peasantry’s discontent, the 1377 poll tax had instigated the Peasant

This work will now turn its focus to the explanation and analysis of the relatively early decline of serfdom in the Low Countries compared to England. The changes in the social order of the Low Countries will be discussed within the context of geographical, political, and economic factors respectively, portraying that it was no coincidence that serfdom experienced a significant decline in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Two main factors – land reclamation and geographical positioning – will be shown to have created the unique conditions that allowed serfdom to decline so rapidly. This evidence will then be used to present the argument that the comparatively early decline of serfdom played a vital part in the rise of the first capitalist economy – that of the Dutch Republic in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The nineteenth century American historian J. L. Motley stated that the Netherlands experienced “five dismal centuries of feudalism”.35 This generalised statement should be taken with a pinch of salt, as Motley has been justly criticised for his romanticisms and fictionalisation of history throughout his three-volume work. The claim that feudalism was active for a long but definitive period

Ibid. p. 146 Wolffe, The Crown Lands, p. 102 33 Ibid. 34 A.R. Myers, The Household of Edward IV. (Manchester, 1959), p. 45 32

J. L. Motley, The Rise of the Dutch Republic: Volume I (London, 1856), p. 28

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allowed Motley to explain the rise of the Renaissance more clearly: it allowed for a clean transition from darkness to light, from backwards to modern. The true decline of feudalism, and its primary institution of serfdom, did not occur as such, and certainly not in the Low Countries. Instead, the decline was rough, developing periodically over time. Nor is it true that feudalism was inherently backwards: it contained various characteristics that allowed it to develop without influence. Feudalism in the Low Countries did not experience external ‘shocks’ of foreign invasion or revolts, but changed itself naturally. This internal transition is one of the key features of the decline in the Netherlands which defines itself uniquely opposite decline in England. The geographical and geological conditions of the Low Countries provided the foundations for the first period of decline of serfdom. The first particular feature is that which gives the Low Countries its name – the height of the land in relation to the sea level. Most of the modern-day Netherlands is either under or at the same level as the sea. In the early middle ages, this was not the case. Most of this land was submerged, or covered in grassy swamp unsuitable for habitation or agriculture. Moreover, large swaths of land were covered in peat bogs,36 further limiting agricultural diversification and production. However, around the twelfth century, new land reclamation techniques came into practice, which were eagerly used by many nobles and clerics of the West and North of the Low Countries to create more land for agriculture.37 To attract farmers and labourers to work this new, but harsh and sometimes dangerous38

land, the nobility and the Church began to lease the land with favourable terms to their serfs. These terms included freedom from seigneurial control, under which they would otherwise

labour in the old land. This significantly shook the established social structure, as more and more peasants migrated to the new land, both to farm and reclaim more land from the sea. This migration caused the establishment of new villages and towns, which attracted more trade and wealth due their relative freedom from feudal ties. Moreover, there was a strong tendency, especially in the North of the Low Countries, to parcelise farmland into small plots. This convention further weakened seigneurial ties as it stimulated individualism and the determination to work more productively to increase profit. Therefore, by the end of the thirteenth century, serfdom was on the weaker foot in the Low Countries. The parcelisation was more common to the South of the great rivers, and less so in the North. The reason for this difference lies in the more centralised politics of the Southern regions. In the South, nobles, ecclesiastical institutions, and towns were larger, and owned more land in contrast to the North. This meant that there was less reason to parcelise land into small plots in the South. In contrast, some historians39 claim that in the most Northern

Peter Hoppenbrouwers, ‘Agricultural Production and Technology in the Netherlands, c. 1000-1500’, in G. Astill & J. Langdon (eds.). Medieval Farming and Technology: The Impact of Agricultural Change in Northwest Europe (Leiden, 1997), p. 92 37 J. Israel, The Dutch Republic: Its Rise, Greatness, and Fall, 1477-1806 (Oxford, 1995), p. 106 38 Floods were very common in newly reclaimed land in the Middle Ages

Israel, The Dutch Republic: Its Rise, Greatness, and Fall, 1477-1806 , p. 107, J. A. van Houtte, Economische en Sociale Geschiedenis van de Lage Landen (Zeist, 1964), pp. 35 + 42

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and maximum cargo hold.40 This design culminated in the fluyt of the late sixteenth century, which was one of the single most important technological advances in the Early Modern era, as it allowed the Dutch to continue to prosper as the lowest cost carrier for any European trade. The continual growth of trade from the thirteenth century onwards caused a new development in the Low Countries. Urbanisation was rapid, and expansive. The Netherlands became the most densely populated area in the late middle ages, with close to forty percent of the population living in towns or cities.41 The great amount of people living in urban areas put a certain strain on agricultural production. Because demand rose, peasants could demand more rights and benefits for their role in the food production. The nobility and the Church had to make certain concessions to their serfs to ensure continued production. This led to the gradual abolishment of serfdom, with many serfs becoming free paid labourers or land-leasers. Secondly, the political environment of the Low Countries facilitated the final decline of serfdom. While the Low Countries were nominally under the control of the Duke of Burgundy and his implementation of a ‘StatesGeneral’42 in Brussels, the region was divided into different provinces, which in turn, were ruled by a Council of different nobles, clerics, and town dwellers. These all vied for control of the different councils and ultimately the StatesGeneral, especially the nobility, which was divided and weakened by this continuous struggle.43 This was to the advantage of the various towns, which grew under the increase

provinces of the Netherlands serfdom never really took hold. While there is too little evidence to fully support this claim, it does seem that serfdom was on the retreat in the Low Countries by the thirteenth century because of the great effects of land reclamation and parcelisation. The second period of decline was stimulated by the geographical conditions of the Netherlands, which will now be discussed to demonstrate that serfdom was fully eradicated by in the Low Countries by the fifteenth century. The Low Countries is defined by its relationship with water. Not only did people continually struggle against the tides of the North Sea, and reclaim land from it as has been shown above, they also used the water to their benefit. The great rivers (the Rhine, the Meuse, and the Scheldt) that lead through France and Germany into the heartland of Europe, and the countless minor waterways that run across and from them, were heavily used as a mode of transport and trade. The rivers all descended into the North Sea, which provided a perfect outlet into the Baltic trading region on the East, rich fisheries on the North, and the route to France, Spain, and the Mediterranean on the West. This long coastline and the great rivers of the Low Countries provided the second stimulus of seigneurial freedom. This is firstly explained by the location of the Netherlands and secondly by the nature of its political control. The Low Countries were uniquely placed between the North and the South of Europe. Products from the Baltic, such as grain, timber, amber, fur, and fish, all passed through the Netherlands on their way down to France, Spain, and Italy, while products from the South, mainly salt and wine, similarly stopped in the Netherlands to continue their journey northward. This trade passed through the Low Countries, and not through England, because Dutch ship design was superior in creating thousands of merchantmen with minimal crew requirements

C. R. Boxer, The Dutch Seaborne Empire: 1600-1800 (London, 1965), p. 20 41 Israel, The Dutch Republic: Its Rise, Greatness, and Fall, 1477-1806 , p. 113 42 One of the early forms of a house of representatives, where officials from different provinces came together to discuss and implement general policy and/or voice concern regarding state matters. 43 Israel, The Dutch Republic: Its Rise, Greatness, and Fall, 1477-1806 , p. 108, Brenner, ‘The Rises and Declines of Serfdom in Medieval and Early Modern Europe’, pp. 225-6

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labourers in several generations.46 These labourers then aided the growth of the towns and cities of the Low Countries, which caused a surge in demand and supply of manufactured products. Since wage labourers were paid with monetary salaries instead of produce, the economy of the Netherlands became a vibrant lending and borrowing economy, in which many lower class citizens used their newfound freedoms to engage in speculation and investment. This was aided by continual low interest rates throughout the first centuries of the Early Modern era.47 In addition to the development of an early banking system which attracted international attention, the surge of wage labourers increased trade and its diversification. Bulk-carrying, as discussed earlier, became the norm and means for many

in trade and manufacturing. Amsterdam, The Hague, Leiden, Rotterdam, Bruges, Ghent, Antwerp, Brussels, and other towns were beginning to exercise control over the countryside as well by the fourteenth century, and frequently bought land from the nobility to increase control over export and food production. Serfs were sold together with this land, and became paid labourers under the control of the towns and their foremost citizens.44 Additionally, when nobles were required to raise an army for warfare, they frequently allowed serfs to buy themselves out of their employment in order to increase their fiscal means to hire mercenaries. These free serfs were then also able to settle reclaimed land or work on the noble’s land as paid labourers instead of traditional bondedlabourers. Therefore, the highly rivalrous nature of the politics of the Low Countries further facilitated the decline of serfdom in the later middle ages. While the politics of the region were divisive and rivalrous, the economy grew. The Low Countries had the most diversified and extensive economy of Europe by the sixteenth century. In the North, the economy was dominated by the fisheries and dairy farms, while in the South there was a larger range of manufactured products, with textiles as principal export. The South was more affluent, and in the later Middle Ages was more powerful and prominent in the European political theatre. However, with the decline of serfdom, which was more rapid in the North as discussed earlier, the Northern provinces began to catch up. The lack of seigneurial ties allowed many peasants to diversify their skills.45 More economic opportunities were available, and former serfs turned wage

towns to increase their wealth and speed up development. Northern producers also began to manufacture textiles, and import unfinished textiles to export them again as finished products. Slowly the Low Countries became the entrepôt of Europe. An intense diversification, specialisation, and later consumption, all played a significant role in this development.48 These three factors were all aided, if not instigated, by the decline of serfdom as a social institution, as peasants were free to work as wage labourers and thereafter buy goods with their earnings, contributing to the ever enriching trade of the

W. Jappe Alberts & H. Jansen, Welvaart in Wording (Den Haag, 1964), pp. 112-3 45 Hoppenbrouwers, ‘Agricultural Production and Technology in the Netherlands, c. 1000-1500’, p. 108, Bavel, ‘The Medieval Origins of Capitalism in the Netherlands’, p. 51

Bavel, ‘The Medieval Origins of Capitalism in the Netherlands’, p. 52 47 Ibid. 48 Ibid. p. 54

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Low Countries. While a historical focus has always laid on the formation of trading guilds, the entrepreneurial instincts of Dutch merchants, their hard work and perhaps their greed, these would not have been able to amass the wealth of the world at the ports of the Netherlands without the labourers who manned the ships, finished the imports, and bought the products. And these labourers would not have been able to do so if they were still toiling the fields like many of their foreign counterparts in the rest of Europe. The analysis of the decline of serfdom in the Low Countries commenced with a discussion of Motley and his romanticised, if somewhat fictionalised accounts of the Netherlands. It seems fitting to end with Motley in the same manner. According to the historian, the Dutch always had an “inclination towards liberty”, and a general nature of “freedom”.49 While it is impossible to demonstrate quantifiable evidence for this claim, Motley does justly observe the early regression of feudalistic ties and social restraint discussed throughout this work, be they due to land reclamation and geographical positioning or societal nature. Finally, it seems that the decline of serfdom in the Low Countries led to significant social and economic changes, which gave rise to a global superpower and the first Northern European capitalist economy.50

nobility and Church with serfs meant that a social migration engineered a move away from feudalism to a more trade-oriented society which began to accumulate commercial wealth. Seigneurial ties weakened, which caused the peasantry’s economic position to become stronger as labourers acquired more skills and thus more economic opportunities. In England, Edward IV’s programme of political and fiscal reform meant that his subjects would no longer be subjected to excessive taxation and that their economic needs would come before his as he lived off his own. The term commonweal represented a legitimisation of the lower orders’ concerns and thus a reform of the social structure in England that saw more welfare programmes introduced to attend to the needs of the poor. While the means were different, the ultimate result was similar. Serfdom was eradicated in both the Low Countries and England by the sixteenth centuries, which allowed both to enter a new era of prosperity and social order which played a vital part in the future courses Western Europe and ultimately the world.

In conclusion, the decline of serfdom cannot be assigned to a single period or cause. In the Low Countries, geographical and economic factors ‘from below’, and in England, political and fiscal reforms ‘from above’ saw the institution of serfdom erode in the thirteenth to fourteenth and fifteenth centuries respectively. In the Low Countries, land reclamation, geographical positioning, and the subsequent accommodation between 49

Motley, The Rise of the Dutch Republic: Volume I, p. 39 J. De Vries & A. M. van der Woude, The First Modern Economy: Success, Failure, and Perseverance of the Dutch Economy, 1500-1815 (Cambridge, 1997), pp. 159-165 50

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What’s the Use in Knowing ‘True North’? A discussion of the true intentions of Lincoln, ‘The Great Emancipator’ By James Gordon Introduction He is hunched, slumped on his seat in a dimlylit room with a haggard and weary face. Abraham Lincoln, played by Daniel DayLewis in Steven Spielberg’s film Lincoln, then poses the question: “Do you think we choose the times into which we are born? Or do we fit the times we are born into?” This invites the audience to consider Lincoln as the man for the job; the sole person who could have successfully orchestrated a Union victory during the American Civil War, yet at the same time battle the ‘peculiar institution’ of slavery. Film critic Anthony Lane noted that Spielberg has been ‘drawn aloft toward legend’ in his interpretation of Lincoln’s role in the Civil War. Admittedly, this is ‘hardly an uncommon impulse’.51 The aim of this article is to scrutinize Abraham Lincoln’s somewhat legendary status as the ‘ideal hero’ in the period of the American Civil War.52 Whilst the constraints of an article do not allow an in-depth study of all Lincoln’s motives, actions and speeches, this analysis of Lincoln and his attitudes toward slavery in particular will hopefully increase awareness of the complexities surrounding this debate. Lincoln’s view on slavery is also the more relevant theme if we are to draw comparative points between the film and historical interpretations. Therefore some central questions that shall be considered include: what was Lincoln’s actual opinion on slavery? Is it possible that Lincoln sought to free the black slaves but would stop the equality there? Was it truly such an important cause to him

that it might have been seen on a par with the re-establishment of the Union? Contemporary Opinion We begin our investigation by first of all appreciating that Abraham Lincoln, ‘the myth made real’, was and still is a controversial figure.53 The mere fact that he has well over 16,000 books written about him can attest to that. Whilst in office he had many opponents, and only won the 1860 election with 39.8% of the popular vote. On the right of the political spectrum he was accused of meddling with the bedrock of the South’s economic security (i.e. slavery) as well as being dictatorial. The opposite side of the

spectrum, made up of radical liberals, blamed Lincoln for not coming down hard enough on slavery and compromising too much in order to end the war sooner. To a degree these accusations are still made by modern day historians. However, revisionists have successfully managed to demonize both political extremities and to secure Lincoln a saint-like image.

Anthony Lane, ‘House Divided: “Lincoln”’, The New Yorker, (November 19th, 2012) http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/cinema/2012/11/19/121 119crci_cinema_lane 52 David Donald, Lincoln Reconsidered, (New York, 1972), p. 103

Dinesh D’Souza, ‘Tyrant, Hypocrite, or Consummate Statesman?’, (April 2005) http://www.dineshdsouza.com/archives/articles/lincoln-tyranthypocrite-or-consummate-statesman/

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To modern Americans it appears that it is deserved. Lincoln is consistently voted as one of America’s greatest presidents. For instance, according to Gallup poll figures, in 2007 Lincoln was deemed ‘America’s toprated President’ with 18% of the overall vote. This is an opinion held by many academics too. Since then in 2009 and 2011 Lincoln’s position has only wavered a little.54 The main jostling for primacy is with Ronald Reagan who some argue is the only possible exception to a more revered character in American politics.55

assumed his duties as the President of the United States of America.56 Lincoln’s Personal View During the famous Douglas-Lincoln debates of 1858, where two hopeful candidates battled to win the Senate seat for Illinois, Lincoln made a very uncharacteristic assertion. He declared to the onlookers: “I am not, nor ever have been in favour of bringing about in any way the social and political equality of the white and black races.”57 On top of this it was not unusual to hear him pass the odd racist joke. Could it be that despite later actions Lincoln was simply too immersed in the passive racism of his time? Not exactly. According to Gabor Boritt neither fact helps our historical understanding of Lincoln’s views if we take them at face value. Perhaps the jokes display to a lesser extent Lincoln as a man of his time, but Boritt rightly implores us to remember the context under which he made the first declaration. Speaking to a negrophobic crowd, at that moment in time openly supporting emancipation was not politically feasible. Had he done so, ‘America’s most effective anti-slavery champion would have disappeared from history’. This view is indicative, perhaps, of a long-term strategy.58 Secondly, in Lincoln’s defence, many historians believe that ‘as a man he wished to eliminate slavery everywhere’, and his personal views were very clear as President.59 But he was shackled by a multitude of factors, not least the American Constitution. He is reported to have said in 1831 “If I ever get a chance to hit that thing [slavery], I will hit it hard.”60 Indeed he followed through with this somewhat by introducing legislation as an

Upbringing Abraham Lincoln was born in 1809, on Sinking Springs Farm in Kentucky. He didn’t have a particularly strong relationship with his father, but from Tom Lincoln he allegedly had instilled in him a dislike for the institution of slavery. From his sister Sarah, he received encouragement to pursue his thirst for learning, which resulted in borrowing and reading many books. By 1836 Lincoln earned his license to practice law from whence he acquired useful skills that would aid him in a political career, on top of a keen respect for the law and legality. He married Mary Todd in 1842 having broken off a previous engagement with her, and in 1846 he was elected to the House of Representatives as a Whig politician. The Republican Party to which he was later a member was only founded in 1854. Despite his ambitions of being elected to the Senate, Lincoln was eventually nominated as the Republican candidate for the Presidency and won the election in November 1860 shortly before a number of states started to secede from the Union, such as Mississippi, South Carolina, Texas and Florida. In 1861 he

http://www.historynet.com/abraham-lincoln Basler, et al. (eds.), The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, 7, 243 58 Gabor Boritt, The Lincoln Enigma: the changing faces of an American icon, (Oxford, 2001), pp. 2-5 59 Donald, Lincoln Reconsidered, p. 128 60 William H. Herndon, History and Personal Recollections of Abraham Lincoln, (Springfield), p. 76 57

Lydia Saad, ‘Lincoln resumes position as America’s toprated President’, (February 19th, 2007) http://www.gallup.com/poll/26608/lincoln-resumes-positionamericans-toprated-president.aspx 55 ‘Lincoln, the movie: How to be President’, The Economist, (November 17th, 2012)

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Illinois Congressman to arrange compensation for slave owners to part with their slaves.61 A lack of outright calls for immediate emancipation was partly down to tact. This is clearly presented in Spielberg’s film by Thaddeus Stevens, a radical Republican played by Tommy Lee Jones, tempering his own strong anti-slavery views in order to allow the amendment to be taken seriously. Whether it is

less popular idea that Lincoln had pursued for a few years. In 1862 the President shared this idea with a delegation of black representatives invited to the White House. Put simply, it was a proposal to send black freed men to colonies outside of the United States. It appeared as if Lincoln came to the conclusion that white and black Americans could not co-exist. Potential colonies were Liberia and Central America among others. However, unsurprisingly, volunteers were few and unimpressed.63 Lincoln didn’t mention the idea again from 1863, but such failures might have contributed to his reputation as ‘a rather ineffectual President’.64 On the other hand this was an impressive step forward from the 1860 Republican Party platform, which aimed only to prevent the spread of slavery from the South into Northern states. That emancipation was even being seriously considered was a huge leap in attitude compared to the start of the war. When emancipation and slavery were identified as undeniably intertwined with American restlessness, it was then acceptable in 1863 to go as far as to make plans for racial integration in America itself after emancipation. Lincoln just had to allay the fears of anti-black Northerners (and for a while his fears) before continuing down such a path.65 Patience and time were key.

true that such backing was purely made to allow the passage of the bill might be questioned. Maybe the bill’s supporters really didn’t recognise black equality in any other way than under the law, and there existed other motives such as surpassing the South economically that could lead such men to support the amendment. Some historians go so far as to say Lincoln himself, who disliked slavery, ‘never did think the Negro was the equal of the white man’.62 Plans for Post-War America Lincoln had started to think about the consequences of emancipation as early as the 1850s. The Emancipation Proclamation that was declared in 1862, and made official in 1863, freed all slaves in the rebellious Southern states only. Its formation ran in tandem with a

Union Trumps Slavery? The final large question that will be addressed is: did Lincoln prioritise the Union or emancipation? The short answer is that Lincoln viewed the re-establishment of peace and the Union as paramount. Spielberg’s Lincoln suggests otherwise. The characters continually remind Lincoln of the mounting death toll resulting from his stalling to pass the 13th amendment. Here emancipation is

Henry A. Rhodes, ‘Lincoln, the Great Emancipator?’, YaleNew Haven Teachers Institute, (2013) http://www.yale.edu/ynhti/curriculum/units/1985/5/85.05.03.x. html 62 Rhodes, ‘Lincoln, the Great Emancipator?’

John Hope Franklin, The Emancipation Proclamation, (Edinburgh, 1963), p. 33 64 Donald, Lincoln Reconsidered, p. 128 65 Boritt, The Lincoln Enigma: the changing faces of an American icon, p. 12

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highlighted as the ultimate goal. One may support this with his wartime rhetoric that implied the Union was the true cause in order to win over his racist supporters.66 Was this part of a strategy too? Evidence can be stacked against his supposed emancipation efforts as well. Though he didn’t go nearly as far as his predecessor James Buchanan in proposing an amendment to protect the institution of slavery in 1861, Lincoln did rebuke two of his generals who independently declared slaves free in particular areas to speed the process up in 1862. Lincoln reminded them that only he had this power, and he actively reversed their orders. Nevertheless, ‘Lincoln’s reluctance to take positive action against slavery during his first year in office did not stem from his affection for the institution’.67 Again the hypothesis that Lincoln had a grand strategy can be supported in this aspect. Academics widely admire him for his ability to compromise and balance progress with not appearing too radical to the Southern opposition. Hints of radicalism could make brokering peace and preventing secession much harder. Lincoln was limited by the popular attitudes of the time, and confines of the Constitution. By respecting its laws to the letter he found no power to force individual states to abolish slavery, therefore he could only persuade them to do it. This did not prevent him however from ordering that no Unionist officer should assist in the capture and return of slaves from rebellious slave owners. Calling slaves ‘contraband’ in this respect was not racist. It was necessary.68 Lincoln did want a lasting peace, but he only saw this accomplishable by ending slavery once and for all.

been fairly puzzling until now. The rhetorical question “What’s the use in knowing True North?” is part of a useful analogy from the film Lincoln. Essentially it asks us to ponder what is the use of knowing our moral (or alternative) goal if you aim for it directly? Knowing in which direction your goal rests is different from knowing how to navigate your way there. A compass does not inform you of any oceans, mountains or forests in your way. If you followed it blindly such obstacles would shortly stop you. I hope that this article has somewhat demonstrated that in multiple ways, Lincoln may be perceived to go against his ideals of anti-slavery, either verbally or by action. But the prevailing argument, which is a very persuasive one, reasons that this was only the case to enable emancipation to occur at all. At one stage, Lincoln’s policy of gradual emancipation was predicted to take until 1900 to be complete.69 Yet the deed would eventually have been done. For those of you who might still have queries as to his true character, it is the chore and perhaps delight of historians to seek the closest ‘truth’ as possible of what past figures thought. In the words of the eighteenth century historian Edward Gibbon: ‘I must be conscious that no one is so well qualified as myself to describe the series of my thoughts and actions.’70 Perhaps it is true then that ‘the real Lincoln will probably never be known’,71 and maybe in the words of Leo Tolstoy we are ‘still too near to his greatness’,72 but rather have a blinkered, yet accepted, view as expressed in Lincoln.

Donald, Lincoln Reconsidered, p. 104 Edward Gibbon, ed. Georges A. Bonnard, Memoirs of my Life, (London: Nelson, 1966), p. 2 71 Greg Durand, ‘The Cult of Lincoln’, America's Caesar, in the United States of America Institute For Southern Historical Review, 2006) http://confederatereprint.com/cult_of_lincoln.php 72 Harold Holzer, ed., The Lincoln Anthology: Great Writers on His Life and Legacy from 1860 to Now, (The Library of America, 2009) p. 386 70

Conclusion Thus, we find ourselves returning finally to this article’s title, which may have 66

D’Souza, ‘Tyrant, Hypocrite, or Consummate Statesman?’ Franklin, The Emancipation Proclamation, p. 21 68 Franklin, The Emancipation Proclamation, pp. 21-48 67

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The “Splendid Failure” of Post-Civil War Reconstruction An analysis of the lack to re-distribute land in the South of the USA By Carolin Wefer The aftermath of the American Civil War was a complex and challenging time and this period of Reconstruction (1865-1877) has been subject of much debate. Controversy surrounds the question of whether Reconstruction has been a failure or a success in terms of the emancipation of former slaves and their integration into society. One significant topic within this discussion is the redistribution of land from plantation owners to freed slaves. While one side argues that the achievements, such as equal rights, mark a cornerstone of American history, others say that AfricanAmericans could not emerge from their social position without land. This paper will argue that the Reconstruction was indeed a failure, but that this statement requires some refinement. Solely linking the failure to the redistribution of land is too narrow of an approach, as other major aspects contributed to the non-emergence of African-Americans from their former conditions. Moreover, it ignores an important achievement of that time. One of the early stances towards this topic is the Dunning school of Reconstruction, which argues that slaves were not ready to be freed and unable to understand and appreciate this new position. This appeared striking to many contemporaries, as slaves were largely uneducated and could not fully comprehend the new circumstances they found themselves in. However, the argument cannot be used to explain the failure of Reconstruction. Clearly, freed slaves were able to be as free as every other human being but they needed appropriate support to set up their new living conditions. One part of this would have been the redistribution of land. Slaves knew how to cultivate land and had experience as farmers as the majority of their work was agricultural. The

possession of their own property would have been a symbol of their emancipation and would have encouraged them to seek independence. Howard Fast, in his 1944 novel Freedom Road, strongly defends the idea that former slaves were indeed able to maintain independent and free lives. One of his characters, Cardozo says that “this problem of land exists everywhere in the South, which is the single great problem upon which our future rests.”73 Furthermore, he argues that “it is impossible that any practical equality of rights can exist where a few thousand men monopolize the whole landed property.”74 Fast thereby touches upon what would be a dominant view in the 1960s: that Reconstruction was a failure because the redistribution of land was not fulfilled. Most African-Americans were not skilled in any other labour than agriculture and did not have the means to learn anything else. Therefore, without having their own land to cultivate they could not truly become free. Being unable to secure financial independence it was impossible for them to move to another economic class and they stayed in a large crowd of recently freed people without prospects. The introduction of sharecropping was not a valid alternative. It effectively pushed African-Americans back into slavery and strongly resembled the feudal system of the Middle Ages. Former slaves acquired land but only to live as tenants working for a share of the crop that was produced on the land. This denied them independence and private property and made the noble ideas of Reconstruction, such as equal rights, unrealistic promises. 73 74

Howard Fast, Freedom Road, 10thed. (1995), p.128 Ibid.

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African-Americans were shackled by slavery once again under the guise of a legitimate owner-tenant relationship and found neither support nor means to emerge from this position. This doomed Reconstruction to failure as the new system effectively recreated the circumstances experienced by AfricanAmericans prior the Civil War. The above arguments link the statement of this paper to the noneffectuated redistribution of land in the South. However, they also reveal other issues in the post-Civil War period, which shows that the argument for the failure of Reconstruction cannot be connected solely to the agricultural question. To begin with, there was significant white resistance to fundamental reconstruction. Obviously, the plantation owners did not want to lose their privileges and powers. Black Codes, sharecropping, and the Ku Klux Klan are examples of how attempts were made to undermine the emancipation of freed slaves. Moreover, a new economic situation emerged in the South in the post-Civil War years. While Henry Grady in his speech The New South from 1886 says that the old South had relied solely on slavery which could â&#x20AC;&#x153;neither give nor maintain healthy growth,â&#x20AC;?75 this was not a dominant view. The South had not developed a labour market until that point and while the North had turned to industrialisation and prosperity, the South faced problematic labour issues as well as an unskilled and uneducated

labour force. This made Reconstruction very difficult as the economic system was not subject to reform; therefore, the South retained elements of the pre-war systems. The lack of education is especially important. While some slaves had been teachers and were educated, the majority were uneducated and often illiterate. They had been kept ignorant so that they would not question their circumstances. Their new status as free citizens required them to integrate themselves into American society and be financially independent. Fastâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s character, Gideon Jackson is faced with a dilemma when he is invited to the Congressional Convention of 1868. This encourages him to find an education for himself and he happens to be in contact with the right people and has access to the right materials. However, this picture is far too idealistic. The majority of freed slaves did not have any means to educate themselves or be educated and, more importantly, also they lacked the incentives to do so. This links back to the redistribution of land as the private possession of land would have provided African-Americans with an opportunity to work using their skills. However, while they were still waiting to receive this land, there was no motivation to look beyond that prospect. There were few opportunities for AfricanAmericans to work outside of agriculture due to the deep rooted racism in the South and this made it very difficult for African-Americans to gain professional skills. Moving to the industrialised North was not a solution because there they were faced with a large working class and a highly competitive employment

Henry Grady, The New South, (1886), http://www.anselm.edu/academic/history/hdubrulle/CivWar/te xt/documents/doc54.htm (last accessed: 09.23.2012)

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market. The younger generation could have been educated but this would have brought black and white together in schools, which was considered unacceptable in a segregated society. As stated above, the white resistance to Reconstruction made this encounter impossible, hence Reconstruction also failed on this account. As all of the above lead to the conclusion that Reconstruction was a failure without any significant achievements, one final argument needs to be made. The view that Reconstruction failed primarily as a result of a failure to redistribute land has already been refined, as the overall problem is a complex connection of several issues. However, the idea of a “total failure” can be altered into a “splendid failure”. This term was coined by W. E. B. Du Bois and later picked up by Eric Foner, who argues that “although Reconstruction did not achieve radical goals […], it offered African-Americans in the South a temporary vision of a free society.”76 The most significant point hereby is the adoption of the fourteenth and fifteenth amendment to the Constitution. The fourteenth amendment entitles Americans to life, liberty, and property and declares that they all have full-citizen status, while the fifteenth amendment declares universal suffrage for all races, colours, or previous conditions of servitude. The exclusion of women in this is a topic for another discussion, but the symbolic character of these amendments in the post-Civil War period is important. It officially considers AfricanAmericans as equal citizens and, as Foner argues, this should not be ignored as a significant and positive achievement of the Reconstruction time. On the whole, the phrase that the failure to redistribute land in the South to emancipated

slaves in the aftermath of the Civil War doomed Reconstruction to failure is inaccurate. Clearly, the missing redistribution of land prevented a successful emergence of former slaves into an independent existence. The newly established system, featuring sharecropping and segregation, can only be considered a “reconstruction” of the pre-Civil War order. However, the flaws of the Reconstruction time lie in many other aspects, such as education and economic mobility. The addition of the fourteenth and fifteenth amendments to the Constitution was the only positive achievements of that time. Even though they did not achieve a radical change, their symbolic character is important. Hence, with Eric Foner’s words, Reconstruction can be considered a “splendid failure”.

Eric Foner, ‘The New View of Reconstruction’, American Heritage, (1983), http://www.learningshark.com/AmHDocs/Reconstruction%20 Splendid%20Failure%20Full%20Text.pdf (last accessed: 09.23.2012)

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Unity under the Monarch The Emergence of the Nation-State in Western Europe By Katie Wilkinson This article will examine the various factors that contributed to the emergence of the nationstate in Western Europe. To start, the definition of the ‘nation-state’ will be analysed. The catch phrase used most commonly in France to describe a nation-state is ‘un roi, une loi, une foi’: the people need to be united under the same religion, same legal system and same ruler.77 However, a problem with this definition is that it is too rigid; Ernes Renan (1823-92) presented a more accurate understanding in 1882, stating that ‘a nation is a soul, a mental principle…and the wish to live together.’78 Therefore, a state is an organised community living under a unified political system (the government),79 whereas a nation is an imagined community.80 When combined, the nation-state is an imagined community living under a unified political system. There are a number of different factors that contributed to the rise of the nation-state, such as speaking a common language, the religion of the people, unity against a common enemy, and unity under the same ruler. Looking at each factor individually allows greater understanding on the significance it played in the emergence of a nation-state in the early modern period. This essay will focus on England and France specifically as these two nation-states evolved differently and so if a similar significant factor was found we can conclude that it is likely to have been the most significant factor in the emergence of a nationstate.

Language not only provides a unified way of communication to help progress the governance of the state but also provides a sense of community that united the people and allowed them to interact with each other. By the fifteenth century a consistent Englishspeaking community emerged that united people from different classes, as nobility, the court, Parliament, and the common people used the same means of communication.81 This shows how important language was, as it created a community by joining people from different backgrounds together. However, the development of language was not straightforward and its effect not immediate; in 1589, George Puttenham urged his readers to avoid the use of northern English, suggesting that language had not yet been fully unified.82 Nonetheless, by the sixteenth century England was emerging as a nation-state, therefore, another factor must have played a more significant part than language. Conversely, in France the importance of language is undeniable. Contemporaries obviously thought that a unified language was crucial to the governance of the state as Francis I introduced the Edict of Villers Cotteret in 1539, which dictated that one main language was to be used in the legal system. Notably throughout the middle ages, there were at least five linguistic groups within France, and it was only by the late fourteenth century that one central language emerged.83 Unlike England the different dialects were actually a matter of pride as it was believed to be a reflection of the grand size of the kingdom, suggesting that

F. Baumgartner, France in the Sixteenth Century(Macmillan Press, 1995) p. 9 78 H. Schulze, States, Nations and Nationalism: From the Middle Ages to the Present(Wiley, 1998) p. 97 79 D. Thompson (ed.), Concise Oxford English Dictionary, 9th ed.(Oxford University Press. 1995) 80 B. Anderson, Imagined Communities (Verso, 2006) p. 6

H. Schulze, States, Nations and Nationalism: From the Middle Ages to the Present(Wiley, 1998) p. 117 82 K. Holzknecht (ed.), Sixteenth- Century English Prose (Harper and Bros, 1954) p. 478 83 L. Greenfield, Nationalism: Five Roads to Modernity (Harvard University Press, 1993) p. 99

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language was a greater factor in the emergence of a nation-state in France than it was in England.84 In France, as in England, a common language emerged at the same period of the nation-state, suggesting the two are closely linked. Therefore, we can see that language played a big part in the development of these countries into nation-states. Great importance was placed on religion in Early Modern society, and therefore it must be considered when assessing the factors behind the emergence of a nation-state. In France, Catholicism made the monarchy stronger and absolute, as the divine right of Kings meant that all had to obey the monarchy. The coronation of Henry IV emphasised the importance of religion as he had to convert to Catholicism to be crowned King; the ceremony itself involved the archbishop of Reims anointing the King with holy oil, which symbolised the almost God-like status of the French king.85 Divine right gave monarchs authority that the people had to obey, which therefore allowed greater governance of the state. In addition, religion was used as a way to separate the French from other nationalities, as according to Greenfield ‘to be French in the late middle ages meant to be a particularly good Christian’.86 In England, religion was used to expel foreign influence in the 1530s through the Henrician reformation; it separated England from the power of Rome and so in that sense it helped to create a feeling of national pride amongst the people, as it provided a distinction between England and foreign countries. Alan Smith said that ‘England asserted her claim to be a nation-state when she rejected papal jurisdiction’.87 This also

highlights that unity against a common enemy was another significant factor in the emergence of a nation-state. Overall religion seems to have been a significant factor, as without religious unity, during a time when it was deemed so important, a sense of community could not be established. Unification against a common enemy was an important, and superficial, way of uniting the people and creating a sense of togetherness. Even today xenophobia can be seen to unite people against foreigners and creates a sense of ‘them’ and ‘us’. In England the perception of a common enemy was never as apparent as during the Spanish Armada. After the mid-Tudor crisis, the country was united again by the threat of a Spanish invasion, so the feeling of nationality was revived. For example, pamphlets were published and songs were made, all heralding the defeat of the Armada.88 The French similarly used external focus to avoid internal conflict. For example, the Edict of Nantes in 1598 was effective while all similar previous edicts had failed to have long-term impact; this occurred because a war with Spain closely followed the Edict of Nantes, whereas the previous Edicts were not followed by any foreign wars. Though it does not prove a causal link it is still important to realise that this was likely to have been a significant factor in providing short-term internal stability. Uniting people against a common enemy has not only enabled states to keep the peace but also to ensure stability and ultimately encourage a sense of unity which in some cases has manifested itself as a national identity. The governing of the state and people’s sense of national pride rested greatly upon the head of state. Throughout the period we see English government become more constitutionalised whereas in France the sense

L. Greenfield, Nationalism: Five Roads to Modernity (Harvard University Press, 1993) p. 99 85 A. Armstrong, OCR A Level History A: The Development of the Nation State: France 1498-1610 (Pearson Education Ltd., 2009) p. 1 86 L. Greenfield, Nationalism: Five Roads to Modernity (Harvard University Press 1993) p. 94 87 A. Smith, The Emergence of a Nation State: the Commonwealth of England 1529-1660 (Longman Group Limited, 1984) p. 374

C. Martin and G. Parker, The Spanish Armada (Hamish Hamilton Ltd, 1988) p. 261

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of absolute monarchy is established. In England the power of the monarchy depended, to an increasing extent, on parliament as even the earlier monarch from this period, Henry VIII, admitted that ‘we at no time stand so highly in our estate royal as in the time of parliament’.90 However, from the people’s perspective, the monarchy remained strong throughout the Tudor era, though this success did not last during the Stuart successors who were twice overthrown.91 The status of an absolute King was replaced by one which was influenced by Parliament after the Civil War.92 Similarly, the French Kings during the sixteenth century promoted, on the whole, a strong image. Louis XII was called ‘Father of the People’, Francis I and Henry II promoted the Renaissance through their growing court and absolutism, and Henry IV brought internal peace and decreased royal debt. After the death of Henry III there was a strong succession of Kings and ministers that according to Richard Dunn ‘built royal strength to unprecedented heights’, ending of course with the absolute rule of Louis XIV.93 This suggests that the monarchy was a factor behind the emergence of a nation-state because the people united under the rule of one King. In the times that there was a weak monarchy, between 1559 and 1589 for example, the nation became divided between those who were loyal to the crown and those who were not. It seems therefore, that the nation-state did not depend on the absolutism of the one ruler, but rather the strength of the government, whether that be under an absolute monarchy or a monarchy which was dependant on parliament. The great extent to which the

nation-state depended on the strength of the rule is unquestionable, without it the state would not be able to govern efficiently and effectively, and also the nations support would not be united. After assessing each factor, the most significant factor was unity under one ruler. To come to such a clear conclusion is difficult as all the factors inter-link so closely. However, each point always relates back to the head of state. Though language was important, it was mostly so because it made governance easier for the monarch. Religion also helped to unite the people but it could only do this if the ruler was strong enough to control the people’s religion. In addition, the uniting effect of foreign wars could only be harnessed if the ruler had established internal stability first. Therefore, though each factor played a part in the emergence of the nation-state they were clearly simply aiding the ruler in creating a nation-state. Consequently the most important factor was the ruler, as they controlled the community and the political system which earlier was established as the definition of nation-state.

W. Beik, Absolutism and society in seventeenth-century France: state power and provincial aristocracy in Languedoc (Cambridge University Press, 1985) p. 4 90 G. Elton, The Tudor Constitution (Cambridge University Press, 1960) p. 270 91 R. Dunn, The Age of Religious Wars, 1559-1689, (Norton and Company,1970) p. 128 92 R. Lodge, The History of England: From the Restoration to the Death of William III (1660–1702) (Longman Group Limited, 2007) p. 8 93 R. Dunn, The Age of Religious Wars, 1559-1689, (Norton and Company, 1970) p. 129

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The Liberal-Nationalist Revolution: Effect and consequences in Europe between 1780 and 1848 By Daniel Wood The period of 1780-1848 was a time of great social upheaval, during which liberal nationalism was a force which can be said to have marked and helped push revolutionary change throughout Europe. Prior to what would now be marked as the point of modernity, governance was operated on the basis of monarchical rule, with the development of the nation-state taking little consideration of the various nationalities that might have lived within its borders. The revolutionary influence of liberalnationalism can be seen during the French revolution through the role it played during the early theoretical and later practical input during the upheaval. Theoretically, liberalnationalism's revolutionary potential was seen through the ideological challenge to the Ancien Regime, most notably in the writings of JeanJacques Rousseau. For Rousseau 'as long as several men assembled together consider themselves as a single body, they have only one will which is directed towards their common preservation and general wellbeing'.94 The conception that a nation could consist of individuals united by common political and social bonds, and not solely of a sovereign and its subjects, was therefore posited. Rousseau's Social Contract offered a way in which legitimate political authority could be established without the loss of natural liberty for citizens. Whilst William Doyle notes that this itself was highly theoretical, 'it could not fail to stir thoughts of practical change' in terms of a movement to ensure liberty and the 'general will of the nation'.95 Therefore, it is indeed possible to view the liberal-nationalism

in its earliest presentation as revolutionary in character, due to the influence it had in challenging the pre-existing political system of autocratic rule in France. In particular, the marriage between the new enlightenment conception of individual rights, the concept of the nation and revolutionary potential can be seen through the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen. In this great founding statement of the First French Republic, born out of the 1789 revolution, liberal-nationalism's potential to engender revolution can be seen through how the declared natural rights of men rests within the nation, itself a sovereign entity to which men owe their allegiance, rather than to any monarchical presence or force.96 Therefore, it can be said that, certainly in its early stages, liberal-nationalism was revolutionary in character, or at the least it was an integral part of a burgeoning new political force which sought to challenge the old settlements of European hegemony. Early liberal-nationalism, within the context of a 'radical-democratic view', can be seen to have effectively presented a revolutionary alternative to, for example, the Bourbon monarchy. This was done primarily through its insistence on the sovereignty of the individual, the core liberal assumption, which directly challenged the monopoly that autocracies had over their subjects â&#x20AC;&#x201C; often only removable by force.97 Moreover, it was the aim of many liberal-nationalists to extend this principle to the nation; that the nation and its peoples should be sovereign and free, as argued by Rousseau.

Jean-Jacques Rousseau, The Social Contract, Book IV, Chapter 1, Paragraph 1 95 William Doyle, The Oxford History of the French Revolution (Oxford, 1990) p. 53

Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen- Article

3 97

E. J. Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism Since 1780 (Cambridge, 1990) p. 40

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However, it is important to look beyond the French revolution in order to assess whether or not liberal-nationalism was consistently a revolutionary force during this period. Revolution once again occurred in Europe in 1830, both within France and its peripheral states and the role of liberalnationalism in can be seen to an extent. The Bourbon monarchy, which had been restored to power after Napoleon's final defeat, was faced with the challenge of insurrection in the July revolt instigated by his unwillingness to concede to liberal reform.98 This could be seen as evidence that liberal-nationalism still retained a revolutionary spirit, even after the

independent Belgian kingdom in 1832 following an uprising in the southern provinces of the Netherlands. Here liberal-nationalismâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s revolutionary potential can be seen, as the population of the south, who thought of themselves as a separate nation for a variety of reasons, were incentivised to revolt due to the perceived despotism of King William I.101 The final great wave of revolutions of the period 1780-1848 would be the so-called Spring of Nations in 1848, when liberalnationalism played a crucial role in the revolutionary activities within Europe in the German and Italian states. Here, there were those who considered themselves to be German or Italian through cultural or, in particular, linguistic ties. These advocated not only political freedoms in line with the liberalism of the age, but the unification of different nations under a nation-state. The revolution in the German states in particular can be said to have been motivated by liberal-nationalist ideas, where liberals contended that German unity and political freedom was a noble cause.102 The desire by liberals to unite Germany, if necessary through revolution, can be seen by the adoption of the German tricolour by the revolutionary groups which sprang up in 1848 across the German speaking states, from Prussia to Frankfurt. However, despite these examples, it is important to question the extent to which liberal-nationalism was a revolutionary force during this period. Whilst undoubtedly liberalnationalism was a new and critical ideological development, it is possible to see limits to how far it was a 'revolutionary' ideology. For a start there were limits to how far liberal-nationalism was prepared to go to see the erection of democratic nation-states. Eric Hobsbawm argued that the French Revolution was primarily a revolution of the middle class, more interested in political reform for citizens

conclusion of the Wars of the French Revolution and of Napoleon. However, there are other factors to consider when discussing the 1830 Revolution. An economic crisis had struck France in 1827 and furthermore the conflict seen during the 1830 uprising was perhaps not so much an ideological reaffirmation of the principle of Rousseau and of liberty and the nation, but of a political conflict between the monarch and liberals over the nature of the 1814 Constitution.99 Yet, liberalism and nationhood as a revolutionary principle can be seen to have been active during this period within the Netherlands, where discontent over the perceived Dutch domination in governance and favourable tax structures,100 encouraged the creation of an 98

Roger Price, The Revolutions of 1848 (Macmillan Education, 1988) p. 14 99 Pamela M. Pilbeam, Republicanism in Nineteenth-Century France, 1814-1871 (Macmillan, 1995) pp. 95-96 100 Roger Price, The Revolutions of 1848 (Macmillan Education, 1988) p. 14

101

Robert Gildea, Barricades and Borders Europe 1800-1914 (Oxford, 1987) 102 Ibid. p. 24

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(a term which excluded women and slaves) rather than a broad revolutionary up swell.103 Indeed, it could be argued that liberals of this period came to focus more on readdressing certain political inequalities rather than seeing the establishment of nation-states of free and equal peoples. The French Constitution of 1791 definition of citizenship required males to be over 25 and to pay a direct tax, and it can be observed that liberals, especially in the later part of this era, became less concerned with the establishment of nations of all those who wished to for a state, and only for nationalities of a certain size. 104 As Hobsbawm noted, Mazzini did not spend much time in consideration of the establishment of an Irish state than of a unified Italy, which he envisioned to be a liberal-republican democracy.105 Even the French and Belgian revolutions of 1830 produced politics which limited political rights to the propertied and educated, which can be seen as evidence that liberal-nationalism began to lose its revolutionary potential after the period of the first French Revolution.106 Furthermore, critics of liberalnationalism of the period have argued that its key thinkers were too introverted in their view of politics, to the extent that conservatism was eventually allowed to co-opt nationalism to its own purposes. For instance, Marx was critical of Mazzini, arguing that his ideas 'represent(ed) nothing better than the old idea of a middleclass republic' and was ultimately a reactionary position.107 Indeed, it may be possible to argue that nationalism's role in the later stage of this period, as well as its legacy, taints its ability to be called revolutionary. After all, nationalism

in a post-1848 Europe was dominated not by liberals calling for democratic reform, but by conservatives such as Bismarck advocating the setting and expansion of the borders of the nation.108 In conclusion, liberal-nationalism did have a revolutionary potential, particularly during the later stages of the eighteenth century, when the political and social upheaval allowed for the assertion of new political beliefs with the creation of a new French Republic, and the shockwaves that this sent throughout Europe. However, it is important to note how liberal-nationalism did eventually lose its revolutionary spirit, primarily through the diverging of nationalism away from liberalism to conservatism or, if not that, the comfort of the new invested interests of a postFrench Revolution Europe. Whilst 1848 did see an explosion of revolutions heavily influenced by liberal thinkers and liberal demands, it could be argued that this was a last gasp for such thinking, as revolutionaries failed to establish new liberal nations and the leaders of the right, such as Bismarck, began to exercise a more exclusivist form of nationalism.

103

Eric Hobsbawm, The Age of Revolution (Abacus, 1988) pp. 83-84 104 Pamela M. Pilbeam, The Middle Classes in Europe 17891914 (Macmillan Education, 1990) p. 216 105 E. J. Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism Since 1780 (Cambridge, 1990) p. 31 106 Ibid. p. 83 107 Interview with Karl Marx, head of L'Internationale by R. Landor, New York World, 18 July 1871, http://www.hartfordhwp.com/archives/26/020.html (Last accessed 15/10/2012)

108

Robert Gildea, Barricades and Borders Europe 1800-1914 (Oxford, 1987) pp. 197-200

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Who Killed the Princes in the Tower: Richard III, Henry Stafford, Henry VII, or Margaret Beaufort? By Katherine Emery The announcement that the bones of Richard III had indeed been discovered under a Leicester car park ignited fresh debate about his life. A reported 3,000 people visited the exhibition in Leicester dedicated to Richard in the first three days of its opening,109 while his anticipated burial in the city prompted 15,000 signatures on a petition to see him buried in York, his ‘chosen’ resting place.110 This renewed interest in Richard’s story led Philippa Langley, a member of the Richard III Society and the force behind the dig, to state ‘We're going to completely reassess Richard III, we're going to…look at all the sources again, and…there's going to be a new beginning for Richard.’111 Richardians such as Philippa Langley are clearly hopeful that Richard’s reputation as the “deformed tyrant” seen in Shakespeare’s ‘Richard III’ will be revised. In fact, examinations into the controversial events of his reign, particularly the disappearances of his nephews, the “Princes in the Tower”, have already begun. While Richard has traditionally been viewed as the chief suspect in this case, recent calls to re-evaluate Richard’s character prompted this analysis of the possible suspects. In this work, I will attempt to suggest who is ultimately responsible for the princes’ disappearance over five centuries ago.

Richard III In the debate, Richard has the clearest motive for the princes’ deaths, and this has confirmed his guilt in some narratives. Polydore Vergil, a historian writing in the reign of Richard’s Tudor successor, described Richard as ‘kindled with an ardent desire of sovereignty’,112 which caused him to murder his nephews. The case for Richard’s guilt is not only based on this anti-Richardian Tudor propaganda, but also Richard’s ample opportunity. By incarcerating the princes in the Tower and using violence against their protectors to do so, it does not take a stretch of the imagination to argue that once they were imprisoned they were murdered. And if Richard took this course of action he would have merely been following the precedence of previous usurpers Henry IV and Edward IV who murdered their predecessors. While seeing the evidence through this Tudor-influenced interpretation, it seems almost certain that the murderer was Richard. However, those seeking to rehabilitate Richard’s image have proposed a persuasive argument for his innocence. Firstly, it has been suggested the princes survived until at least 1485. Kendall, Richard III’s biographer, notes there are references to ‘the children’ and ‘the Lord Bastard’ in Richard’s household accounts that could be the hidden princes.113 While Hammond attacked this argument by showing examples where those terms denoted Richard’s illegitimate son,114 this does not account for all instances and could confirm their survival. If this is indeed the case, then Richard is clearly

109

Anonymous, ‘King Richard III exhibit attracts thousands’, (2013), BBC News Archive, http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-leicestershire21404789 (Last accessed 17 February 2013) 110 Gration, Harry, ‘York tells Leicester to ‘back off’ in Richard III burial battle’, (2013), BBC News Archive, http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-york-north-yorkshire21389276 (Last accessed 17 February 2013) 111 Anonymous, ‘Richard III dig: DNA confirms bones are king’s’, (2013), BBC News Archive, http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-leicestershire21063882 (Last accessed 17 February 2013)

112

Nichols, J.B. (eds. and trans.), Three Books of Polydore Vergil’s English History: comprising the reigns of Henry VI, Edward IV and Richard III, (London, 1844), p. 173 113 Kendall, Paul Murray, Richard III, (London, 1955), p. 455 114 Hammond, P.W., ‘Notes’, The Ricardian 5.72, (1981), p. 319

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hiding the princes from 1483, and therefore cannot be guilty of their murders. Secondly, Richard passed ‘Titulus Regius’ in 1484 which declared the princes’ parents’ marriage void, invalidating the princes’ claims. If Richard had indeed killed them, would this act have been necessary? Furthermore, Maurer has argued that if Richard murdered the princes in conjunction with this act, it would have proved the weakness of his claim.115 It therefore seems that Richard’s claim was more secure by keeping the princes alive. The third argument is more emotive; that the murders went against Richard’s previous character. He was incredibly loyal to his brother, Edward IV, the princes’ father, particularly in 1470 and 1471 when Edward was briefly deposed. This is in contrast to his other brother, George, Duke of Clarence, who was involved in multiple conspiracies against Edward. Furthermore, Richard did not make an attempt against Clarence’s son Edward, another nephew who was a political threat. Therefore, in spite of Hicks’ argument that Richard was emotionally capable of killing his nephews,116 Richard’s track record would suggest that he was merely acting against Woodville power in 1483 by installing himself as their guardian. The Richardian argument, while being a persuasive one, does not take into account the violent nature of this society. If the princes lived, however secretly, there was always the possibility that they could later oppose their uncle. Furthermore, the idea of sentimentality governing Richard’s decision not to kill the princes seems unlikely considering Richard had actively supported Edward IV killing Clarence in 1478. Therefore, Hicks’ argument seems likely: Richard was not only capable of

killing his nephews, but driven by political insecurity to do so. Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, whose motives are difficult to discern, is another contender. While he may have orchestrated the princes’ deaths to fulfil his own ambitions or revenges, he is often credited with being Richard’s “hatchet man”, an interpretation supported by many nearcontemporary sources. An argument for Buckingham’s guilt is his desire for the crown. He was descended twice from Edward III, and in 1474 he obtained a heraldic decree that allowed him to display the arms of Thomas of Woodstock, Edward III’s fifth son, and Jones and Underwood have suggested that this was indicative of his longterm goal to claim the throne.117 Furthermore, his motivation for joining the September 1483 plot could be his dynastic ambitions. While his allies, the Tudor faction, believed the plot was to crown Henry Tudor, Rawcliffe has argued that Buckingham was using Henry as a ‘pawn’ in his attempt to seize the throne for himself.118 However, the most persuasive view is that Buckingham was Richard’s “hatchet man”. Philippe de Commynes, a Burgundian chronicler, described how Buckingham ‘espoused… [Richard’s] interest’ after Edward IV’s death, and implies that Buckingham was at the heart of the Richardian usurpation.119 Likewise, Green found a 1483 mayoral commonplace book which stated the princes were killed by the ‘vise’ of Buckingham.120 While this term is ambiguous, it suggests he at least knew of their deaths. Furthermore, Buckingham was amply rewarded after 117

Jones, Michael K. and Underwood, Malcolm G., The King’s Mother: Lady Margaret Beaufort Countess of Richmond and Derby, (Cambridge, 1992), p. 63 118 Rawcliffe, Carole, The Staffords, Earls of Stafford and Dukes of Buckingham 1394-1521, (Cambridge,1978), p. 32 119 Davis, J., (ed. and trans.), The Historical Memoirs of Philippe de Commynes (London, 1817), p. 397 120 Green, Richard F., ‘Historical notes of a London citizen, 1483-1488’, English Historical Review 96 (1981), pp. 585-590

115

Maurer, Helen, ‘Whodunit: the Suspects in the Case’, (1983), The Richard III Society Database, http://www.r3.org/bookcase/whodunit.html (Last accessed 24 February 2013) 116 Hicks, Michael, Richard III and his Rivals: Magnates and their Motives in the War of the Roses, (London, 1991), p. 298

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Richard’s ascension with the de Bohun estates and the role of Constable of England, suggesting he had done Richard some great service.

The fleeting references to ‘the children’ in household documents previously mentioned suggesting the princes were alive until a date when Henry could kill them is rather speculative, and so is much of the other evidence against him. In order to use Elizabeth of York to legitimise his own claim, he had to repeal Richard’s ‘Titulus Regius’ statute, which re-legitimated the Yorkist children. However, this action legitimised the princes’ claims once more, suggesting that Henry knew the princes were dead; either by his hand or another’s. However, Maurer has argued that when repealing ‘Titulus Regius’ he legislated that the re-legitimising of the York siblings would not affect his own position on the throne, possibly implying Henry was not sure if they were dead.121 The argument for Henry’s innocence is potent: Henry was in exile in France until 1485, and there is strong evidence they were dead by 1483. Most obviously, Mancini recognises rumours in England by December 1483 that the princes ‘had been done away with’122 by their uncle and this matches with Elizabeth Woodville’s choice to join the conspiracy to place Henry on the throne in September 1483, which seems unlikely if she believed her sons were still alive. Therefore, while the argument that Henry killed the princes to vilify Richard seems very desirable to Richardians rehabilitating Richard, Henry would have been unable to kill them until a time when they were almost certainly dead.

In contrast, there is very little tangible evidence to prove Buckingham’s innocence, and the evidence at hand seems to suggest he at least knew of the murders. But whether this was an instrument of his dynastic ambitions, a way of getting revenge on his in-laws or in his role as an advisor to Richard III, is much less clear. Henry VII Henry VII, Richard’s successor, is a popular choice to blame for Richardians, as his regime succeeded in blackening Richard’s name. By returning from exile in 1485 and conquering England, Henry was vulnerable to the princes’ superior claims, shown by popular support for several pretenders who masqueraded as the princes. Consequently, Henry’s guilt relies on the premise that the boys were still alive in 1485, when he would have had the opportunity to murder them.

Lady Margaret Beaufort Our last chief suspect is Henry VII’s mother, Lady Margaret Beaufort. By 1483 Margaret and her son were the chief Lancastrian claimants to the throne, and Richardians have used Henry’s absence to 121

Maurer, Helen, ‘Whodunit: the Suspects in the Case’, (1983), The Richard III Society Database, http://www.r3.org/bookcase/whodunit.html (Last accessed 24 February 2013) 122 Armstrong, (eds. and trans.), ‘Dominic Mancini to Angelo Cato’, p. 93

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argue that Margaret murdered the princes on his behalf. The argument for her guilt therefore relies entirely on the premise that she was campaigning on Henry’s behalf before 1485. Margaret’s emotional investment in Henry can be found in her letters written post1485. In one letter, which is undated, she described Henry as ‘all my worldly joy.’123 This exceeds formal writing customs of the day and suggests that Margaret held deep affection for her son. While there is no evidence of this affection pre-1485, Jones and Underwood have cast Margaret and Henry’s relationship as one of utmost trust across years of exile and political turmoil,124 and this could extend to Margaret murdering the princes for her son. Suspicion of Margaret’s guilt is primarily due to her reputation as a ‘consummate and unprincipled plotter’.125 Her role in the July 1483 plot to free the princes does not indicate an allegiance to the Yorkists, but an innate pragmatism, which she used to further her son’s cause. After this failed attempt, she seemingly arranged a marriage between Henry and Elizabeth of York with a cornered Elizabeth Woodville, and Elizabeth Woodville’s agreement perhaps indicates that they both knew the princes were dead. Furthermore, while Margaret and Elizabeth continued to plot using Margaret’s physician, Lewis Caerleon, as a go-between,126 it is clear Margaret no longer supported freeing the princes, as Henry’s betrothal to Elizabeth of York was only useful if the princes and their superior claims were dead. Therefore, if Margaret was guilty, they had to be dead by the time of Buckingham’s rebellion, when the Tudor-York alliance was cemented. Interestingly, this coincides with Mancini’s 1483 rumours. Also, Margaret was present in

London throughout this period, giving her both the perfect opportunity and the motive. However, the case for Margaret’s innocence is strong. She is not mentioned in any contemporary sources discussing the murders and she is absent from Tudor historiography recounting the event. While perhaps this is indicative of Margaret’s ability to commit the “perfect crime”, it probably demonstrates her innocence, and the speculative evidence surrounding her guilt could be attributed to hopeful Richardians hoping to vilify the Tudor dynasty. Conclusion The mystery of the Princes in the Tower has beguiled historians, artists and filmmakers alike for over five centuries, and there is still no definitive consensus on the accountability for the murders. In spite of the popularity of re-evaluating Richard’s tarnished image, I would instead argue that Richard is ultimately responsible for the deaths of his nephews. Pushed by political necessity and dynastic insecurity, he killed his two rivals or instructed Buckingham to do so. Although this may be unpopular to the increasing legion of Richardians, perhaps the recognition of Richard’s guilt does not wholly condemn him, but illuminates the increasingly brutalised atmosphere of 1480s England.

123

Ellis, Henry, (ed.), Original Letters, Vol. 1, (London, 1825), p. 46 124 Jones and Underwood, The King’s Mother, p. 61 125 Ibid. p. 65 126 Ibid. p. 63

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Gender History and Katherine Howard A critical analysis of the life of the fifth Queen of Henry VIII By Conor Byrne In my research on the life and queenship of Katherine Howard (1524?-1542), I have become increasingly aware of the insufficient scholarly treatment of this unfortunate queen. Not only male historians, but female historians too, have placed far too great an emphasis on the political nature of Henry VIII’s reign, the workings of the court, and factional politics which provided the dangerous context for this young teenager’s swift ascent to the throne in 1540. While knowledge of faction is certainly essential to an understanding of the mid-Tudor court, it only provides an undoubtedly small figment of historical reality. As Hufton has emphasised, gender needs to be placed at the forefront of history in order to sufficiently understand not only women, but men too. That historians who have studied Katherine have failed to do so unsurprisingly resulted in Warnicke’s disparaging comment that ‘apparently, none of these writers had read histories of sexuality and gender’.127 It can even be argued that in accounts of Katherine’s career, it is her family who occupy the spotlight, rather than herself. Above all, gender is essential in understanding her life. When placing this at the forefront of researching, interpreting, and analysing contemporary sources, rather than dubious notions of ‘faction’, a fuller understanding is achieved. What follows in this article is a brief outline of Katherine’s life – the focus on gender acts to suggest the importance of this type of history in our historical understandings. Katherine was almost certainly the youngest of six children born to Lord Edmund Howard, an impoverished member of the

powerful Howard family, and his wife Joyce, who was the daughter of a prominent Kentish family. It is likely that Katherine was born in 1524, based on contemporary reports which suggested that her sexual relationship with Francis Dereham, which began in around 1537, occurred when she was thirteen, and on an anonymous Spaniard’s belief that she was about fifteen when she attracted Henry VIII. Spending her early life perhaps in Kent or in London, Katherine resided in her stepgrandmother, the dowager duchess of Norfolk’s, household from the age of around eight, which was placed in Horsham or Lambeth. Around this time, Katherine’s famous cousin, Anne Boleyn, ascended to the throne, which was undoubtedly a spectacular triumph for the Boleyn family and their relatives, the Howards. Katherine’s grandmother may have hoped for Anne’s young cousin to attend her later on as her maidof-honour, and with this in mind she arranged for Katherine to receive music lessons in about 1536, aged twelve or thirteen. Unfortunately, Anne was tragically executed that year on dubious charges of adultery and incest, and the crown passed to Jane Seymour, a member of the Howard’s rival family at court. In terms of gender, Lady Norfolk’s decision to grant Katherine musical lessons should be seen as usual in an age when aristocratic gentlewomen with pleasing courtly skills could hope to attain positions at court serving the queen, in order to benefit both themselves and their family. Musical ability was highly regarded, and Anne of Cleves, Jane’s successor, was viewed as unfortunate in her lack of musical capabilities. However, Katherine’s music master, Henry Manox, perhaps taking advantage of Katherine’s tender

127

Retha M. Warnicke, ‘Katherine Howard’, in Wicked Women of Tudor England: Queens, Aristocrats, Commoners (Palgrave Macmillan, 2012)

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reformist conspiracy’129 with ‘detailed instructions as to how to attract the King’s attention’.130 Male relatives sought places for female family relations so that they could achieve successful marriages with other prominent families in order to build up strong and prestigious alliances. An awareness of family politics considerably weakens any notion of ‘faction’ in the modern sense of the word. The king himself may have achieved

years, begged her for sexual liberties, which she unwillingly granted. Joanna Denny’s study of Katherine integrated some aspects of gender, intertwined with youth, by theorising that this suggests Katherine was a victim of child sex abuse, but in an age when women were viewed as sexually insatiable, Katherine herself was later blamed for enticing her master.128 Francis Dereham, who also served the dowager duchess, came to Katherine’s rescue for which she was certainly grateful. Evidence of their relationship provided four years later implies that the affair between the two may have resulted in a clandestine marriage, an aspect of Katherine’s life largely ignored by historians. Certainly, evidence suggested that the two referred to each other as husband and wife, and the passing of gifts to one another indicates a courtship. Later, Katherine claimed that Francis had violated her many times, and a consideration of gender conveys the impression that she did not willingly embrace Dereham’s fierce, even possessive, view of her. When her uncle, the duke of Norfolk, achieved a place for her and two other female relatives at court in 1539 to serve the new queen, Katherine happily accepted and informed Dereham that she did not wish to see him again. She later remarked that all who knew her knew how happy she was to go to court. This strongly conveys a desire to forget her past mistakes and attain a successful future serving the queen, without the protective or controlling nature of male lovers. It seems reasonable to suggest that Katherine’s uncle never knew of her childhood escapades, for if his niece was known to have a dubious sexual reputation, this would have severely compromised his family’s social security at court. A further failure to consider gender properly has led several scholars to maintain that Katherine was brought to court as a maidof-honour to Anne of Cleves as part of ‘a

Katherine’s appointment in 1539, and because it was later reported that he fell in love with her the moment her saw her, it is possible to theorise that it was love of Katherine, not Anne’s supposed ugliness, unacceptable religion or possible pre-contract, that moved the king to rid himself of his unfortunate fourth queen. Katherine’s physical appearance can be constructed by attention to gender and sexuality. Early modern writers held that females were attractive if they had flat stomachs and small breasts which, apparently, Anne did not have. Many historians, neglecting this, have favoured the French ambassador’s comment that Katherine was only of moderate beauty but was graceful. 129

Denny, Katherine Howard, Chapters 9-12 A. Weir, The Six Wives of Henry VIII (London, 1991), p. 413.

128

130

See J. Denny, Katherine Howard: A Tudor Conspiracy (Portrait, 2005)

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As is known, Anne of Cleves survived for only six months as queen before her marriage was annulled and her former maid married in her place. There is little evidence that Katherine’s family constituted a ‘Catholic faction’ which ousted both Anne and Thomas Cromwell from power. In her queenship, several aspects related to gender have been ignored, including fertility. Ambassador Marillac heard a rumour in July 1540 that Katherine was pregnant before she married Henry VIII, but this turned out to be false. Nevertheless, in April the next year he again wrote that the new queen was rumoured to be with child. Since there is no evidence of a miscarriage, or a pregnancy to begin with, and because doubts had increased as to the king’s impotence in his previous marriages, it is possible that the Council deliberately misinformed the ambassador of this in order to create the impression that the king was still fertile. In an age of gender relations which saw women as intellectually inferior to men, it is significant that historians have interpreted Katherine’s decision to appoint Dereham and Manox, as well as her former acquaintance Joan Bulmer, to prominent positions in her household as reckless and stupid. In the spring of 1541, the queen began to meet with Thomas Culpeper with the help of her lady-in-waiting, Jane lady Rochford.131 Dubious later testimony from Katherine’s ladies insinuated that she had had a sexual relationship with Culpeper in order to pass off his child as the king’s, but both he and the queen maintained that they never passed beyond talk. Katherine’s letter to him indicates that she was in love with him, although he seemed a manipulative individual who wanted to use her influence to achieve political power. Again, gender informs our understanding of Katherine. Her interrogators, who were unable to comprehend the alternatives to a sexual relationship, relied on

misogynistic views of early modern women to portray the queen as a whore who had jeopardised the Tudor succession. Perhaps remembering that in April the ambassador had heard the queen was pregnant, at the time she began meeting with Culpeper, they almost certainly conceived the notion that she slept with Culpeper to pass off his bastard as the king’s son. Her appointment of Dereham was also seen as proof of her desire to return to her ‘abominable life’. On discovering details of Katherine’s childhood, the king wept while her uncle denounced her as a prostitute. As has been noted, none of the four males involved in Katherine’s sexual life assumed responsibility for his actions; in all, she was portrayed as a whore. The likelihood was that in the spring of 1541, when the king was suddenly taken ill, the queen experienced mounting worry, even a spell of loneliness, and turned to her family relation Culpeper for comfort. Yet they never passed beyond talk, as has been suggested by some historians.132 Court politics and gender intertwined at this time, as Katherine sought the assistance of Lady Rochford, as Lady of the Bedchamber the closest female attendant to the queen, to communicate with her relative. The arrival of Dereham at court in the summer proved dangerous for the queen’s security, as he boasted that he was ‘of her counsel’ before she married the king, probably viewing her as his lawful wife. A comment made by Mary Lascelles, Katherine’s childhood companion, to her brother about the queen’s childhood led to Archbishop Cranmer becoming aware of Katherine’s pre-marital indiscretions. If she had been married to Dereham, then she was never the king’s wife and could merely have been divorced. Probably viewing that period as a regrettable time, Katherine stated that they had never been married.

132 131

See D. Starkey, Six Wives: The Queens of Henry VIII (Vintage, 2004), and Warnicke, Wicked Women

She was the former sister-in-law of Queen Anne Boleyn.

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Tragically, Katherine and Lady Rochford were both executed in February 1542, the queen aged around eighteen and her attendant about thirty-six. These followed the brutal executions of Culpeper and Dereham; surprisingly, Culpeper suffered the more merciful method of beheading, despite the fact that he had committed the worse crime of supposedly intending to pass off his child as the king’s, while Dereham was hanged, drawn and quartered, probably because with knowledge to his earlier relationship with the queen, the Council implied that they had intended to resume carnal relations. It is possible that both ladies suffered mental breakdowns when imprisoned, while the queen was reported to be extremely physically weak on the day of her execution, although film adaptations which portray her as screaming with fear are probably inaccurate. Prioritising gender history in relation to Katherine’s life clarifies both her and her circumstances. She was almost certainly not the oversexed adolescent she is frequently depicted as being, but a naive young woman who desired to forget her regrettable childhood and genuinely fulfil her role as queen successfully, largely through bearing a son. Viewing her life narrowly through a political and masculine focus obscures reality. If this is done, then one is left with the interpretation put forward in accounts by historians such as Baldwin Smith who, through relying on the Council’s interrogations and court documents, ultimately agree with those interrogators that Katherine was a manipulative harlot who exploited her sexual fascination mercilessly over Dereham, Culpeper and, worst of all, the king, in order to achieve her sinful goals. Yet if gender is interpreted too radically in the feminist direction, a similarly incorrect portrayal of the queen sees her as a modern young woman who listened to her body’s yearnings: ‘She was willing to risk whatever it took to be true to herself... that her image remains so tarnished says more about our

failure to accept female sexuality than about Kathryn Howard’s morality’.133 Correct attention to contemporary mores concerning female sexuality and gender, intertwined with court politics, suggests that fertility was the centralising factor in both Katherine’s rise and fall. She became queen in order to fulfil the king’s hope that she would produce a second male heir, should anything compromise the safety of his prince, and she lost her crown because she was unable to produce that heir and because her almost certainly innocent meetings with Culpeper, and past relations with Dereham, were construed as evidence that she intended to resume carnal relations with both, thus jeopardising the Tudor succession.

133

K. Lindsey, Divorced, Beheaded, Survived: A Feminist Reinterpretation of the Wives of Henry VIII (Da Capo Press, 1996)

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Political Relevance of French Women before 1944 A re-interpretation of the interwar political theatre By Hannah Wells The ‘inner sanctum’ of French politics during the interwar years was undeniably dominated, almost exclusively, by males.134 This was seen as the natural validation of the laws of the Republic in which only males were considered part of ‘le pays réel’; the English equivalent of a full citizen. However, traditional historiography, which largely ignores women’s political relevance, has begun to be challenged by historians, such as Siân Reynolds, who contend that the definition of political activity should be widened to include social and cultural discourse. This leads her to assert that women are relevant to the analysis of French politics prior to 1944. However, the ambiguity of this statement and specifically what entitles women to be defined as ‘relevant’ has to be considered. If the qualification were simply for them to be objects of political change, then this can be proven by such legislation as the Code de la Famille. However, if in order for this statement to be true women had to help dictate politics, it is much harder to demonstrate. If Reynolds’ definition of political activity is accepted, then one has to acknowledge that women were relevant, at least on the periphery of politics, due to pressure groups, the familial movement and in the creation of a social welfare state. Early studies of women’s history contended that women’s relevance to politics was proven through a declining demography in the interwar years. A low birth rate had been a long existent problem in France; however, it had been greatly exacerbated by WWI and therefore dominated political discourse during the interwar years. This accordingly meant women were considered in a political context.

Motherhood became a national duty in order to reverse depopulation and provide the soldiers of tomorrow. The ‘inter-war politicisation of maternity’ paradoxically accorded women a public role in the polity whilst still excluding them from citizenship.135 This was used by early women’s historians to counterpoint traditional, exclusively male, political history which mostly centered on the economic instability, the polarisation of extreme parties, and industrialisation, none of which naturally acknowledged the role women played. Traditional history, mostly in regard to the ‘demographic lament’,136 considered the role of women as an ‘apolitical background’ to a more chronologically presented, all-male, political history.137 They were a ‘preliminary structural feature’ which did not need to be investigated, only acknowledged.138 However by early women’s history agreeing that the demographic lament defined women’s interwar role, albeit in a political context, they were only serving to reinforce the idea of a domesticated housewife whose sole duty was to reproduce and therefore they indirectly suggested women’s lack of political relevance. This view is supported by Perrot, who has accused demographic history of only considering women as a ‘variable of reproduction’, not as individuals.139 Considering women only from the perspective of the family meant that even when women were discussed the discourse retained only 135

A. Kershaw and A. Kimyongür, Women in Europe Between the Wars: Politics, Culture and Society (Hampshire, 2007), p. 14 136 S. Reynolds, France Between the Wars: Gender and Politics (New York, 1996), p. 21 137 J. Scott, ‘Rewriting history’ in Margaret Higonnet et al. Behind the Lines: gender and the two world wars (1987), p. 27 138 Ibid. 139 M. Perrot Une histoire des femmes est-alle possible? (1984) in S. Reynolds, France Between the Wars: Gender and Politics (New York, 1996), p. 23

134

S. Reynolds, France Between the Wars: Gender and Politics (New York, 1996), p. 204

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‘masculine patronymics’, leading to a patrilinear vision of history.140 More recent historiography endeavours to consider women within traditional notions of politics by looking at their role directly in relation to the economic climate and highlighting their relationship with political parties. In conjunction, it also attempts to widen the sphere of political activity to include social and cultural discourse and as such argues women were politically relevant. Both national and local governments were starting to realise that social security, public health and welfare were becoming an essential part of their political duty. Whilst many of their attempts to accommodate this have been described as ‘piecemeal and sometimes incomplete initiatives’, much work that was done towards creating a social welfare state was largely facilitated by women.141 This aspect of political activity has not received much attention from traditional historiography because private charities, under the auspices of the Catholic Church in the nineteenth century, were the original founders of social welfare. Hostilities which had accumulated between the Church and State led to their official separation in 1905 and therefore the inescapable association of social welfare with the Church meant that it was viewed as ‘antiFrance’ rhetoric and largely avoided. Women’s participation can be seen with the Office de la Protection de la Maternité et de l’Enfance de la Seine (OPMES) which was three quarters funded from the Social Insurance fund, displaying the convergence of social work with politics. The ‘case workers’ who were the primary work source were almost exclusively female and formed the basis of this organisation. This demonstrates women’s participation within political work and therefore their relevance, as they facilitated its implementation, but does not suggest that they

were central to the formulation of the policies themselves. Within popular rhetoric a very clear transition can be seen from the pre-liberated ‘conservative Catholic’, ‘minimally educated and blissfully submissive’ French woman,142 to the post-liberated woman who was ‘welleducated’ and independent.143 Nonetheless, women who were singled out to have been particularly relevant to politics prior to 1944 distinctively broke this mould. Women such as Ysabel de Hurtado, Léonie Gillet and Madeline Hardouin, who sat on the board for the OPMES, or Suzanne Lacore, a member of Blum’s government, were noted for their defining, unusual characteristics. For example, many ‘remained unmarried’, had a ‘strong religious faith’, were ‘strong minded’, and ‘had a sort of tough innocence of a generation of secular slaves’.144 The effort which has been made to show that these women were unique and different from the average housewife tends to suggest that it was not the ordinary woman who was relevant to politics, but a few select individuals. Rosanvellon argues that women did not have any relevance to French political history because the Republic was based on the principle of universalism and as such it was not possible for women to have partial political participation. His argument so followed that their exclusion from the ‘le pays réel’ rendered them politically irrelevant. This limited view of political participation, which suggested that without the vote women had no political significance, is shared by Paul Smith who suggests the political dominance of the Radicals during the interwar period and their stringent opposition to women’s rights, prevented women’s suffrage and thus their political relevance. These arguments have been 142

R. Frost, ‘Machine liberation: Inventing Housewives and Home Appliances in Interwar France’, French Historical Studies 18 (1993), p. 121 143 Ibid. 144 S. Reynolds, France Between the Wars: Gender and Politics (New York, 1996), p. 149

140

Ibid. p. 24 S. Reynolds, France Between the Wars: Gender and Politics (New York, 1996), p. 32 141

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strongly refuted by Siân Reynolds who argues that the case was not so clear cut and republican purists did not have a ‘monolithic and principled opposition’ to women’s political rights and instead political discourse consisted of a perpetual confrontation between feminists and anti-feminists, both of whom claimed to be republicans.145 There were continuous tensions between feminism and anti-feminism in France during the interwar years which spilled into the political field. The role of women within this rhetoric can be seen through feminist movements such as the Conseil National des Femmes Françaises (CNFF) and the Union

women. Within this movement the UFCS, a women’s organisation, formed the Ligue de la Mère au Foyer which ‘agitated’ to have the question of an allowance for stay-at-home mothers to be put on the parliamentary agenda, and this was eventually enshrined in the Code de la Famille.147 It may not fit any ‘progressive model of ‘feminism’’ and instead unhelpfully ‘bolstered traditional views of women’, but it showed that women could have an influence in politics if they were fighting for the ‘right’ cause.148 The success of these campaigns proved women’s ‘non-negligible role’.149 However, in both the pronatalist and the ‘mouvement familial’, leaders and opinion makers were overwhelmingly male and thus while women were able to influence politics, they were not dictating policies.150 This relationship between the ‘rhetoric of progress on one side and the banality of practices on the other’ is further represented by Blum’s three female ministers whom he chose to represent the Popular Front government in 1936.151 These women are almost always referred to in the plural and have become an ‘obligatory reference’ in women’s political history.152 They have been ‘congealed into icons’ rather than considered as subjects of historical debate for the work they did.153 In practice they were purely a symbolic appointment and ‘token gesture’ by Blum to deflect attention from the lack of support the Popular Front showed towards women’s suffrage.154 They represented an

Française pour le suffrage des Femmes (UFSF). However, equally, if not more significant, were anti-feminist groups who were partially influenced by females and gained much more political attention. Two of the most prominent anti-feminist groups were the pronatalists and the ‘mouvement familial’, both of which exemplify the France-antiFrance divide which Stanley Hoffman argues existed in interwar France. Whilst the pronatalists were largely confined to ‘male and scientific circles’146 and formed an extremely prominent part of politics during the interwar years, the anti-France alternative was the ‘mouvement familial’ which was dominated by Catholic values and featured many more

147

Ibid. Ibid. 149 S. Pedersen ‘Catholicism, feminism and the politics of the family during the late Third Republic’ in Seth Koven and Sonya Rose Mothers of a New World: maternalist politics and the origins of welfare states (London, 1993), p. 393 150 S. Reynolds, France Between the Wars: Gender and Politics (New York, 1996), p. 26 151 R. Frost, ‘Machine liberation: Inventing Housewives and Home Appliances in Interwar France’, French Historical Studies 18 (1993), p. 130 152 S. Reynolds, ‘Women and the Popular Front in France: The Case of the Three Women Ministers’ French History 8 (1994), p. 198 153 Ibid. p. 198 154 Ibid. p. 197 148

145

S. Reynolds, France Between the Wars: Gender and Politics (New York, 1996), p. 209 146 Ibid. p. 27

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acknowledgement of women’s increasing desire for political liberation without actually providing them with it, not even making them members of ‘le pays reél.’ Their positions were in the Ministry of Public Health and the Ministry of Education, areas which were considered suitable for women’s emotional behaviour. The most important social work, such as the Commission for Child Protection which was created under Suzanne Lacore’s name, was in fact ‘integrated into the overall plan’ of the leading male ministers and was not a process Lacore had any control over.155 Thus both the fashion of the interwar period and Blum’s three women ministers symbolised the increasing desire of women to be independent, equal and politically relevant in mainstream government. When women were granted the vote in April 1944 there was no record of open opposition to it, either from the general public or from politicians. This has led some commentators to suggest that the introduction of women to the electorate was a ‘ripe fruit’ ready to be harvested.156 Christine Bard argued that ‘the reform had become inevitable’,157 partially due to the point so clearly illustrated by Paul Smith that women successfully ‘kept themselves on the political agenda’,158 primarily through submissions of electoral reform bills which reached the Senate four times in the interwar period, following the initial rejection in 1922. The continuous work of women's pressure groups also raised awareness of the women’s cause and meant that the citizens ‘hearts and minds had been prepared for it’.159 The theoretically drastic measure was met with so little resistance that it

has been suggested that the battle for women’s suffrage had largely been won during ‘the long-term war of attrition before 1939’.160 Therefore, in order to answer the question whether women were relevant to politics prior to 1944, one also has to consider if they were relevant post-1944. Siân Reynolds agrees that there was continuity but she argues that men and women existed within the ‘magnetic field’ of politics.161 Their relationship may have been complex and incredibly unequal but that does not mean that women played absolutely no role. In the overall analysis of French politics during the interwar years, women should certainly not be considered irrelevant, but the relative scale of their political influence is clearly debatable. The increasing work which has been done to separate women from their association with the demographic lament has enabled women to be considered as individuals and acknowledged for the role they played in beginning to change the strong ideology which defined French republicanism as an exclusively male arena. Women’s formal disenfranchisement prior to 1944 did not prevent them making a political impact through pressure groups, and by facilitating the creation of an embryonic social state. They may not have been permitted to physically enter the hémicycle or ‘inner sanction’ as described by Reynolds, albeit with three significant exceptions, but they were nevertheless pervasively present in political dynamics.

155

Ibid. p. 214 S. Reynolds, France Between the Wars: Gender and Politics (New York, 1996), p. 219 157 C. Bard ‘Les fémininismes en France: vers l’intégrationdes femmes dans la cité’, in S. Reynolds, France Between the Wars: Gender and Politics (New York, 1996), p. 219 158 P. Smith, ‘Political Parties, Parliament and Women’s Suffrage in France, 1919-1939’ French History 11 (1997), p. 338 159 S. Reynolds, France Between the Wars: Gender and Politics (New York, 1996), p. 219 156

160 161

Ibid. Ibid. p. 221

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The General Election of 1945 Why did Attlee defeat Churchill? By William Griffiths In the General Election of the 5th July 1945 the Labour Party, led by Clement Attlee, won a landslide victory over Winston Churchill’s Conservatives. Labour won 393 seats over the Conservatives’ 189 seats,162 giving them a 148 seat majority over all the other parties in the House of Commons put together. Labour’s turnout among the popular vote was 47.8% compared to the Conservatives, who polled 39.8%, and the Liberals polled 9% but only managed to win 12 seats.163 No party in postwar politics has ever won by such a large share of the public vote. The victory was a huge achievement; the first time the Labour Party had gained a majority in the House of Commons. The result is made all the more interesting when one considers that most people, including most Labour supporters, thought that they would lose the election. It seemed inconceivable that Churchill, the great wartime leader, could be voted out so ignominiously so shortly after having won the war. This article will seek to explain why Labour managed to win such an impressive majority only two months after Churchill had led Britain to victory in the war. In order to do this, it will highlight some of the most common causes given. Firstly, it will look at the theory that there was a swing to the left before the election. Secondly, the idea that Labour’s victory was only a response to the Conservatives and not a positive victory on behalf of Labour will be presented. Thirdly, the article will consider the view that Churchill lost in the election because of a poorly run Conservative Party election campaign.

One of the main reasons put forward for why Labour won the 1945 General Election is that the election result was determined well before the election campaign itself. One of the earliest and most authoritative works on the issue is that of McCallum and Readman, published in 1947, which argues that Labour’s election victory was the result of long term shifts in public opinion.164 In a similar vein to many later historians, they are of the opinion that the mood of the electorate was already decided before the election campaign.165 This is evidenced by the series of by-elections which went against the National government after 1943, in addition to a Gallup poll before the election campaign started which suggested that 84% of people had already made up their mind about which way they were intending to vote.166 They also argue that there was a general impression that Churchill was a good wartime leader, but not a good leader for peacetime.167 Later historians have often taken a similar line to that of McCallum and Readman that the mood of the electorate was set before the election campaign even came under way. There has been disagreement about when this mood was created. Some, such as Pelling, argue that the General Election result was the consequence of a long term shift in public opinion which began prior to the war.168 He argues that Conservatives’ association with the economic problems of the thirties and many of their members having been closely linked

164

McCallum and Readman, General Election of 1945, p. 268 Ibid. 166 Ibid. p. 269 167 Ibid. p. 266 168 Pelling, ‘General Election Reconsidered’, pp. 399-414

162

165

R. B. McCallum and R. Readman, The British General Election of 1945, 2nd ed. 1964, (London, 1947), p. 248 163 Henry Pelling, ‘The 1945 General Election Reconsidered’, The Historical Journal, Vol. 23, No. 2 (1980), p. 408

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with appeasement meant that the “swing of the pendulum” had started well before the war.169 However, historians such as Addison have argued that the main reason for Labour’s

domestic policy, and that it was their performance in government during the war years that made people support Labour.173 There was a general perception within the public that they had been the driving force behind most of the positive domestic changes that took place during the war, and that the Conservatives had been acting as brakes to this progress.174 Therefore, according to this argument, Labour won the 1945 General Election on account of people being drawn to them because of their successes in the war years and also the idea that they would be more likely to implement social change. This position has been criticised by Fielding; he argues that Labour did not in fact profit to a very large extent from the war, and that the main cause for the election result was apathy and disillusionment of the electorate that drove people away from the Conservatives.175 It was their lack of assurance over domestic policies after the war and their seeming inability to deliver social reform, which led to the public’s disillusionment with the Conservatives much more than Labour doing well out of the war. This is evidenced by a poll taken in 1942 which shows a general apathy among the electorate regarding social reform and welfare,176 and another poll taken in 1944 showed that only 36% of people thoughy politicians acted for their country, 35% believed they acted for their own interests and 22% believed they simply put the party first.177 Therefore, Fielding views the election result not as a wave of idealism and hope sweeping Labour into power, but rather a pre-emptive cynicism against the Conservatives.178 The fact that there were no other realistic alternatives to

victory was the impact of the war. Addison argues that the Conservatives’ reluctance to undergo reforms after the publication of the Beveridge report in 1942 led to a swing in public opinion towards Labour.170 In his report from 1942 William Beveridge claims that more policies were needed from the government after the war to combat the five great evils; squalor, ignorance, want, idleness, and disease. This would require a great deal more government intervention and it was generally perceived that Labour would act on these policies more than the Conservatives would.171 Addison points out that had there been an election in 1939 it would have been likely that Labour would have lost, and it was the experience of working in government and the public perception that they were chiefly responsible for successes in domestic policy which led to Labour’s massive victory at the 1945 General Election.172 Labour was widely associated with the successes of wartime

173

Morgan and Owen, Labour in Power, p. 44 Ibid. 175 Steven Fielding, ‘What Did 'The People' Want?: The Meaning of the 1945 General Election’, The Historical Journal, Vol. 35, No. 3 (1992), 623-639 176 Ibid. p. 627 177 Ibid. p. 629 178 Ibid. p. 639 174

169

Ibid. pp. 399-414 P.Addison, The Road to 1945: British Politics and the Second World War, (London, 1977) pp. 229-267 171 K. O. Morgan and K. Owen, Labour in Power, 1945-1951, (Oxford, 1984) p. 44 172 Addison, Road to 1945, p. 261 170

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the Conservatives meant Labour capitalised on the electorate’s war-weariness. Another factor that has been highlighted by historians as the reason why Churchill lost the election is the election campaign.179 One speech in particular had a very negative impact on the populace. In the “Gestapo Speech” of the 4th of June 1945 Churchill stated that no socialist system could be implemented in Britain without some form of “British Gestapo”. Hearing their premier speak in this way about men he had so recently been working with against the Fascists made a bad impression on the electorate.180 Although, there is a general consensus among many historians that it is unwise to attach too much importance to the election campaign as a whole,181 most have highlighted the poorness of the “Gestapo speech” and that it set a negative tone for the whole election campaign.182 However, it has been pointed out that the Conservatives in fact went forward in the opinion polls after Churchill’s election address and that it would be a mistake to place too great an emphasis on the importance of the speech as there is no evidence that it impacted on the election result.183 Nevertheless, it would be foolish to dismiss the speech’s impact outright as a poll taken shortly after it was given showed that 69% of the population considered it “bad”,184 and it is seen to have shown Churchill as an out-of-touch figure ranting at his political opponents. This article has sought to provide a brief introduction to the reasons why Clement Attlee beat Winston Churchill in the 1945 General Election. It seems clear that the mood of the electorate changed during the war and

not prior to it, as McCallum and Readman have suggested. However, there is debate as to what extent the electorate voted Labour on a positive basis, or whether the public was driven away from the Conservatives and therefore voted Labour on a more negative ideology. Earlier historians, such as Morgan and Addison, have tended to stress the importance of Labour’s successes in domestic policy during the war. However, more recent work by Fielding suggests that war-weariness among the population and a general apathy towards politicians meant that the result was more the consequence of a negative response against the Conservatives. Modern historians, such as Toye and Bears, have looked at the election campaigns more specifically. It is nonetheless important to remember that the mood of the electorate does seem to have been set before the election campaign itself, and that the “Gestapo speech” and poor election campaign may have exacerbated, but not ensured the people’s decision.

179

Laura Beers, ‘Labour's Britain, Fight for It Now!’,The Historical Journal, Vol. 52, No. 3 (2009), p. 669 180 Richard Toye, ‘Winston Churchill’s “Crazy Broadcast”: Party, Nation, and the 1945 Gestapo Speech’ Journal of British Studies, Vol. 49, No. 3. (2010), p. 656 181 Eg. K. Jefferys, The Churchill Coalition and Wartime Politics, 1940-1945, (Manchester, 1991), p. 201 182 Eg. Addison, Road to 1945, p. 266 183 Jefferys, Churchill Coalition, p. 201 184 Toye, ‘Churchill’s “Crazy Broadcast”’, p. 676

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The Success of Controversy Why did the Goldhagen Thesis provoke such intense debate in Germany? By Frederick Bell The Goldhagen Thesis is promoted by American political scientist Daniel Goldhagen in Hitler’s Willing Executioners (1996). The assertion is made that an ‘eliminationist antiSemitism’ resided in the heart of German political culture and society by the end of the nineteenth century, radicalised throughout time from the medieval period. Henceforth the men that made up police battalions responsible for the genocide in Eastern Europe were ‘ideological warriors’ who ‘carried out an order, embellished upon it and acted not with disgust and hesitation but with apparent relish and excess’, such was their hatred of the Jews.185 The book was a direct response to Christopher Browning’s study of the same reserve police battalion (Ordinary Men), in which, largely influenced by the outcome of the Milgram experiment into peoples’ willingness to inflict pain, he contested rather that, coming from a social milieu that was relatively unreceptive to National Socialism, ‘almost all men, at least initially, were horrified and disgusted by what they were doing’.186 The book had a profound impact upon the United States and other countries, though it was in Germany where reactions and debate were strongest. This was due to the fact that Goldhagen’s intense focus on the actual killing produced a very uncomfortable narrative, and appealed to a younger generation in Germany seeking a more honest confrontation with the crimes of the Third Reich and the chance to counter their parents’ argument that they knew little about or were in no way involved in the Holocaust. It also challenged the trend

throughout German scholarship to disclaim responsibility by focusing on the elite organisations involved and questioned the hope of commentators for a post-reunification restoration of national self confidence in which the traumas of the past could now be forgotten. Such factors will be explored to assess the profound impact of the Goldhagen thesis. Primarily, Goldhagen’s book provoked intense debate due to its uncomfortable and shocking narrative. Documentary evidence that men not only willingly killed Jews but actually enjoyed their “work” ‘was highly unsettling to a public grown used to far more detached interpretations of the past and to explanatory models which kept the horror and gore at bay’.187 Grim descriptions of genocidal shootings in Polish woodland in 1942, including one instance in which ‘the supplementary shot struck the skull with such force that the entire back of the skull was torn off and blood, bone splints and brain soiled the marksman’, also meant that ‘unlike any other book, Goldhagen’s had the capacity to render unimaginable acts of cruelty horribly clear’.188 Perhaps more significant however than this readmission of the ‘blood and guts’ not found in the narratives of Browning and other historians is the derogatory view of German people and their history that one could draw from Goldhagen’s. Bill Niven highlights how often ‘the narrative or analysis seemed to shift towards a liturgy of accusation, with ‘the 187

Daniel Jonah Goldhagen, Hitler’s Willing Executioners: Ordinary Germans and the Holocaust (Abacus, London, 1997) p. 188; Omer Bartov, The Holocaust: Origins, Implementation, Aftermath (Routledge, London, 2000) p. 173 188 Daniel Jonah Goldhagen, Hitler’s Willing Executioners: Ordinary Germans and the Holocaust (Abacus, London, 1997) p. 218; Marion Donhoff, ‘Why Daniel Jonah Goldhagen’s Book is Misleading’ in Robert Shandley, Unwilling Germans? The Goldhagen Debate (University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis, 1998) p. 205

185

Daniel Jonah Goldhagen, Hitler’s Willing Executioners: Ordinary Germans and the Holocaust (Abacus, London, 1997) p. 190 186 Christopher Browning, Ordinary Men: Reserve Police Battalion 101 and the Final Solution in Poland (Harper Perennial, New York, 1993) p. 182 + 184

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Germans’ not so much a term of description, as one of condemnation’.189 Goldhagen’s repeated use of the term ‘the Germans’ when referring to those who worked in camps or undertook shootings is certainly a common criticism amongst historians and, alongside his assertion that German people were historically antiSemitic before 1945, may not have sat well with its readers. Indeed Istvan Deak notes the paradox that ‘whilst Goldhagen rejects the notion of “collective guilt”, it is implied throughout the book’.190 Incredible assertions such as that ‘every German is inquisitor, judge and executioner’ opened up an issue to the German public that had supposedly been concluded in the 1960s.191 However, noteworthy is that the majority of the German public actually received the book well. A crowd of two thousand people attended the Munich leg of Goldhagen’s tour of Germany in which he debated his thesis with historians, with journalists describing ‘mass scenes usually surrounding Michael Jackson concerts rather than the non-fiction book market’.192 Thus there must have been more significant reasons for both the popularity of and debate provoked by the book, which shall now be examined. A major reason why Goldhagen’s thesis inflamed such debate in Germany was that it challenged recent trends in German scholarship. It was unique in giving empathy ‘exclusively to the victims rather than the perpetrators’, with German scholars devoted rather to understanding why the latter behaved

as they did and to suppressing the notion of individual responsibility within the criminality of the Third Reich. Thus Goldhagen strongly appealed to a new generation who wanted a more honest confrontation with the Nazi past than that provided by their post-war parental generation. To begin with the historiography, knowledge of the Holocaust was widely repressed or Sovietised (i.e. studied in relation to class) by the communists in East Germany, whilst in the West ‘the tendency had been to attribute Nazi crimes to the SS and other elite organisations, meaning that ‘ordinary’ Germans that might also have been involved did not enter the picture’.193 Niven highlights that by doing such, ‘it was possible to imply that anti-Semitism had never been a grass roots problem and to disclaim responsibility’, whilst one could argue that both sides of the functionalist-intentionalist debate serve to somewhat exculpate the Germans.194 Testimony to this trend that is that Goldhagen’s book was actually translated as ‘Hitler’s Willing Helpers’, as opposed to ‘executioners’, and the apparent reluctance at the 61st Historians’ Convention in Munich in September 1996 to discuss the Holocaust. That there were six sections on the GDR but none on the federal republic implied that ‘East German history was being shoved into the foreground to play down both the crimes of National Socialism and West Germany’s weakness in dealing with the legacy of Hitler’.195 However the passion and extremity of Goldhagen’s thesis, alongside reunification, countered the willingness to forget and found resonance with the general public, if not historians, in a society in which ‘by the 1980s, a new desire and willingness to confront the past had developed’.196 A number of articles

189

Bill Niven, Facing the Nazi Past: United Germany and the Legacy of the Third Reich (Routledge, London, 2002) pp. 1289 190 Istvan Deak, ‘Holocaust Views: The Goldhagen Controversy in Retrospect’, Central European History (Cambridge University Press, Vol. 30, No. 2, 1997) p. 301 191 Daniel Jonah Goldhagen, Hitler’s Willing Executioners: Ordinary Germans and the Holocaust (Abacus, London, 1997) p. 218; Marion Donhoff, ‘Why Daniel Jonah Goldhagen’s Book is Misleading’, p. 194 192 Bernard Reiger, ‘Daniel in the Lion’s Den?’ The German Debate about “Hitler’s Willing Executioners”, History Workshop Journal (Oxford University Press, Vol. 43, Spring, 1997) p. 228

193

Bill Niven, Facing the Nazi Past: United Germany and the Legacy of the Third Reich (Routledge, London, 2002) p. 133 194 Ibid. 195 Ibid. p. 136 196 Mary Fulbrook, A History of Germany 1918-2008: The Divided Nation (Wiley-Blackwell, Chichester, 2009) p. 255

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discussion throughout Germany. The book’s release can also be seen as the culmination of a gradual development in Germany of greater awareness of widespread public involvement in the Holocaust. This served to increase public curiosity into the true nature of the perpetrators of the Holocaust, with Goldhagen severely escalating the situation by suggesting that these men now known to be involved even enjoyed killing Jews. Furthermore, despite widespread criticism of Goldhagen amongst historians, his assertion that Germans was historically predetermined historically to kill Jews somewhat revived the great ‘Historikerstreit’ of the mid1980s in which they debated how the Holocaust should be studied in relation to its wider context, namely whether it was a defensive reaction to Soviet crimes or uniquely evil. It also led to many academics within other professions, including sociologists and neurologists, examining how their field could contribute to explanations of the Holocaust. Thus Goldhagen could be vilified, but not ignored. Lastly, the work aroused such extensive debate as Hitler’s Willing Executioners was released just six years after German reunification in 1990, when ‘the apparently stable post-war settlement of the German question was once again shaken open’.199 The mid-1990s were still a precarious time for Germany, during which many within the upper echelons of German society and right-wing commentators argued that they must cast off the burdens off their past in order to re-assert themselves on the world stage. Thus Goldhagen’s thesis proved problematic in creating a whole new furore over Holocaust interpretation, with Niven noting that even ‘politicians and some conservative historians were angry that an American Jew had damaged hopes of a new self-confidence based on

released in the 1990s spoke of how Goldhagen had a liberalising effect for many young Germans – often referred to as ‘1968ers’ in reference to their birth – including Jan Reemstma’s assertion that the ‘the fear of a study of the average man and the possibility of recognising in him one’s own grandfather,

father, or uncle has finally been replaced by the willingness to take the risk of such a recognition’.197 Indeed ‘millions of Germans, for whom the accuracy of his work was of secondary importance, wished to acknowledge the fact that ordinary Germans participated in the Holocaust; Goldhagen’s suggestion that Germans were predestined killers was accepted as part of the uncomfortable package’.198 This conflict between the public and the majority of historians who criticised Goldhagen – as evident by the former’s support for Goldhagen during tour debates – ensured that the thesis would continue to provoke widespread 197

Harold Marcuse, ‘Generational Cohorts and the Shaping of Popular Attitudes towards the Holocaust’ in John Roth and Elizabeth Maxwell, Remembering for the Future: The Holocaust in an Age of Genocide (Vol. 3, Palgrave, London, 2001); Jan Philipp Reemstma, ‘Turning Away from Denial: Hitler’s Willing Executioners as a Counterforce to Historical Explanation’ in Robert Shandley Unwilling Germans? The Goldhagen Debate (University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis, 1998) p. 257 198 Steven Crawshaw, Easier Fatherland: Germany and the Twenty-First Century (Continuum International Publishing Group, London, 2004) pp. 136-7

199

Mary Fulbrook, A History of Germany 1918-2008: The Divided Nation (Wiley-Blackwell, Chichester, 2009) p. 310

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burying the National Socialist past’. Indeed ‘it seemed to suggest that the rest of the world was determined to perpetuate the idea of German guilt for centuries to come’, hence the desire amongst many to reduce its potential impact on a delicate post-unification German public.201 Further, despite Goldhagen’s assertion that German anti-Semitism largely disappeared after the establishment of democracy after 1945 amid American re-education efforts, the underlying assumption of the book is surely that, if it had taken on a silent form for such a long period before that of National Socialism, then it could re-emerge at any given moment. Indeed Marion Donhoff warned in 1997 that ‘concern that the Goldhagen book could revive an anti-Semitism that had more or less died down should not be so lightly dismissed’, whilst one commentator argued that if one is to believe the book’s theses, then ‘the German’s path into the twenty-first century can only be contemplated with scepticism and fear’.202 Arguably ‘Germany wore an ugly face in the period between 1991 and 1994’, as suggested by raids on synagogues and the death of three men in Molln and five in Solingen as a result of racially motivated arson attacks.203 Alarmingly however, many perpetrators were not from organised neo-Nazi squads recruited from the ‘disadvantaged’, ‘underprivileged’ and ‘uneducated’ or men freed from the repressive GDR, but ‘ordinary Germans from respectable middle-class families’.204 Perhaps then, as Niven argues, the great debate aroused by Goldhagen and why it gauged so much

interest from the public as opposed to other works can be put down to its greater political relevance in the present. Indeed ‘the circumstances examined by functionalists would probably not reoccur, nor would a second Hitler take over Germany, but antiSemitism could re-emerge’, with the book acting as a warning against ‘conceiving it as a prejudice characteristic only of specific individuals and groups’.205 In conclusion, Goldhagen’s thesis provoked such intense debate due to a combination of its shocking, descriptive but contradictory narrative and the delicate political context in which it was released. The increasing public desire from the 1980s onwards to develop a more honest and detailed knowledge of the Holocaust, specifically the perpetrators, meant that the thesis was always bound to appeal despite its somewhat accusatory nature and methodological shortcomings. For many social commentators and politicians, the thesis proved a hindrance in attempts to formulate a new independent and powerful Germany after reunification, a key pillar of which would entail overlooking the National Socialist past. Instead, it had the potential to escalate both renewed German nationalism and racial violence in the 1990s. Indeed ‘after drawing the sinister picture of a nation that for centuries was in the grip of ‘demonological, hallucinatory anti-Semitism’, the idea of such a sudden behavioural change is unrealistic’.206 Goldhagen’s thesis created both a new outlook on arguably the most significant event in Germany’s past and newfound worry for the future, thus ensuring it would be debated by all levels of German society.

200

Bill Niven, Facing the Nazi Past: United Germany and the Legacy of the Third Reich (Routledge, London, 2002) p. 138 201 Richard J Evans, Rereading German History 1880-1996: From Unification to Reunification (Routledge, London, 1997) p. 113 202 Marion Donhoff, ‘Why Daniel Jonah Goldhagen’s Book is Misleading’, p. 206 203 Nicholas Goodrick-Clarke, Black Sun: Aryan Cults, Esoteric Nazism, and the Politics of Identity (New York University Press, New York, 2002) p. 197 204 Bernard Reiger, ‘Daniel in the Lion’s Den?’ The German Debate about “Hitler’s Willing Executioners”, History Workshop Journal (Oxford University Press, Vol. 43, Spring, 1997) p. 231

205

Bill Niven, Facing the Nazi Past: United Germany and the Legacy of the Third Reich (Routledge, London, 2002) p. 134 206 Ruth Birn and Volker Reiss, ‘Revising the Holocaust’, The Historical Journal (Cambridge University Press, Vol. 40, No. 1, 1997)

The Historian, Vol. 2, No. 3

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With support of the University of Exeter Alumni Society

A University of Exeter History Society Publication

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