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Revolution and Constitutionalism
in Britain and the U.S.
In Revolution and Constitutionalism in Britain and the U.S.: Burke and Madison
and Their Contemporary Legacies, David A. J. Richards offers an investigative
comparison of two central figures in late eighteenth-century constitutionalism,
Edmund Burke and James Madison, at a time when two great constitutional
experiments were in play: the Constitution of the Glorious Revolution of 1688
and the U.S. Constitution of 1787.
Richards assesses how much, as liberal Lockean constitutionalists, Burke
and Madison shared and yet differed regarding violent revolution, offering three
pathbreaking and original contributions about Burke’s importance. First, the
book defends Burke as a central figure in the development and understanding of
liberal constitutionalism; second, it explores the psychology that led to his lib-
eral voice, including Burke’s own long-term loving relationship to another man;
and third, it shows how Burke’s understanding of the political psychology of the
violence of “political religions” is an enduring contribution to understanding
fascist threats to political liberalism from the eighteenth-century onwards,
including the contemporary constitutional crises in the U.S. and U.K. deriving
from populist movements.
Mixing thorough research with personal experiences, this book will be an
invaluable resource to scholars of political science and theory, constitutional
law, history, political psychology, and LGBTQ+issues.
David A. J. Richards
First published 2024
by Routledge
605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158
and by Routledge
4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2024 David A. J. Richards
The right of David A. J. Richards to be identified as author of this work has been
asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and
Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised
in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or
hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information
storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers.
Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks,
and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Richards, David A. J., author.
Title: Revolution and constitutionalism in Britain and the U.S. :
Burke and Madison and their contemporary legacies / David A. J. Richards.
Other titles: Revolution and constitutionalism in Britain and the United States
Identifiers: LCCN 2023019065 (print) | LCCN 2023019066 (ebook) |
ISBN 9781032530062 (hbk) | ISBN 9781032532226 (pbk) |
ISBN 9781003410966 (ebk)
Subjects: LCSH: Constitutional history–Great Britain. |
Constitutional history–United states. | Constitutional law–Great Britain. |
Constitutional law–United States. | Great Britain–History–Revolution of 1688 . |
Revolutions–United States–History–18th century. |
Great Britian–Politics and government–History. |
United States–Politics and government–History. |
Burke, Edmund, 1729–1797. | Madison, James, 1751–1836.
Classification: LCC K3161 .R53 2023 (print) |
LCC K3161 (ebook) | DDC 342.4102/9–dc23/eng/20230609
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023019065
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023019066
ISBN: 9781032530062 (hbk)
ISBN: 9781032532226 (pbk)
ISBN: 9781003410966 (ebk)
DOI: 10.4324/9781003410966
Typeset in Times New Roman
by Newgen Publishing UK
For Donald Levy.
The Reason why Men enter into Society, is the preservation of their Property;
and the end why they chuse and authorize a Legislative, is, that there may be
Laws made, and Rules set as Guards and Fences to the Properties of all the
Members of the Society, to limit the Power, and moderate the Dominion of every
Part and Member of the Society. For since it can never be supposed to be the
Will of the Society, that the Legislative should have a Power to destroy that,
which every one designs to secure, by entering into Society, and for which the
People submitted themselves to the Legislators of their own making: whenever
the Legislators endeavour to take away, and destroy the Property of the People,
or to reduce them to Slavery under Arbitrary Power, they put themselves into
a state of War with the People, who are thereupon absolved from any further
Obedience, and are left to the Common Refuge, which God hath provided for
all Men, against Force and Violence. Whensoever therefore the Legislative shall
transgress this fundamental Rule of Society; and either by Ambition, Fear, Folly
or Corruption, endeavor to grasp themselves or put into the hands of any other
an Absolute Power over the Lives, Liberties, and Estates of the People; By this
breach of Trust they forfeit the Power, the People had put into their hands, for
quite contrary ends, and it devolves to the People, who have a Right to resume
their original Liberty, and, by the Establishment of a new Legislative (such as
they think fit) provide for their Safety and Security, which is the end for which
they are in Society.
John Locke, The Second Treatise of Government
(Peter Laslett ed.), pp. 412–13
Like other tyrannies, the tyranny of the majority was at first, and is still vul-
garly, held in dread chiefly as operating through the acts of the public authority.
But reflecting persons perceived that when society is itself the tyrant—society
collectively, over the separate individuals who compose it—its means of tyran-
nizing are not restricted to the acts which it may do by the hands of its political
functionaries. Society can and does execute its own mandates: and if it issues
wrong mandates instead of right, or any mandates at all in things with which it
ought not to meddle, it practices a social tyranny more formidable than many
kinds of political oppression, since, though not usually held by such extreme
penalties, it leaves fewer means of escape, penetrating more deeply into the
details of life, and enslaving the soul itself.
John Stuart Mill, “On Liberty”, in John Stuart Mill, On Liberty,
Utilitarianism and Other Essays (Oxford: Oxford University Press), p. 8.
5.7 Representation and Parties in the U.K. and the U.S. 144
5.8 The Democratic Objection to Judicial Review in the U.K.
and the U.S. 147
Bibliography 202
Index 220
Preface
Reasons for Writing This Book
American and British constitutionalism share a history, and this work is meant
to address that history both in the late eighteenth century when they separated
after the American revolution and thereafter, including their rediscovery of one
another, their common values, and the need for new transnational and inter-
national institutions during and after World War II. What did they share, and
what do they share since? Dicey addressed the latter point in an 1897 article, as
the title put it, “A Common Citizenship for the English Race”1 between England
and the U.S. Is there anything to it but late Victorian racism? That is my question,
or one of my questions.
The prism of the investigation of this work is a comparison of two cen-
tral figures in late eighteenth-century British and American constitution-
alism: Edmund Burke in Britain, and James Madison in America, when the
two great constitutional experiments were in play—the British Constitution of
the Glorious Revolution of 1688, and the U.S. Constitution of 1787. My focus
is on how much, as liberal Lockean constitutionalists, they shared (including
their Lockean belief in the right to revolution and their interests in history as
a guide to constitutional construction and interpretation), and yet their quite
different relationships to violent revolution. Madison, like Jefferson and
Adams, never questioned the legitimacy of the American revolution. Rather,
the premise of his role, as a leading founder both at the 1787 Convention and
defending the convention’s work in The Federalist, was that the constitution
would give the world a more legitimate constitutionalism than the British
Constitution against which the colonists revolted. In contrast, no one was more
skeptical of the relationship of violent revolution to liberal constitutionalism
than Burke, condemning, for example, Britain’s unjust and unwise treatment
of the Americans precisely because, in his view, George III and Lord North
were provoking a violent revolution by the colonists, which was and would
1 Dylan Lino, “The Rule of Law and the Rule of Empire: A.V. Dicey in Imperial Contest,” Modern
Law Review, 81: 5 (2018): 739–64 at 749.
xii Preface
2 See, among others, Richard Bourke, Empire and Revolution: The Political Life of Edmund Burke
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2015); F. P. Lock, Edmund Burke, Volume I: 1730–
1784 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998); F.P. Lock, Edmund Burke, Volume II: 1784–1797
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006); Stanley Ayling, Edmund Burke: His Life and Opinions
(New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1988); Isaac Kramnick, The Rage of Edmund Burke: Portrait
of an Ambivalent Conservative (New York: Basic Books, 1977); Conor Cruise O’Brien, The
Great Melody: A Thematic Biography of Edmund Burke (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago
Press, 1992); David Bromwich, The Intellectual Life of Edmund Burke: From the Sublime
and Beautiful to American Independence (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2014);
Jesse Norman, Edmund Burke (New York: Basic Books, 2013); Carl B. Cone, Burke and the
Nature of Politics: The Age of the American Revolution (Lexington, KY: University of Kentucky
Press, 1957); Carl B. Cone, Burke and the Nature of Politics: The Age of the French Revolution
(Lexington, KY: University of Kentucky Press, 1964); David Dwan and Christopher J. Insole, The
Cambridge Companion to Edmund Burke (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012); Justin
Du Rivage, Revolution against Empire: Taxes, Politics, and the Origins of American Independence
(New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2017); Martti Koskenniemi, To the Uppermost Parts
of the Earth: Legal Imagination and International Power 1300–1870 (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2021); Daniel O’Neill, Edmund Burke and the Conservative Logic of Empire
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 2016).
Preface xiii
as constitutional rights3 and was prominently cited by the Indian Supreme Court
in its recent opinion decriminalizing gay sex on the basis of a free-standing con-
stitutional right to privacy.4 In Chapter 1 of this book, I bring my own experi-
ence as a gay man and compelling historical evidence to bear on arguing that
Edmund Burke’s remarkable political liberalism in a range of domains (resisting
the injustice of the British treatment of Irish Catholics, the Americans, and the
Indians—the Hastings impeachment) can be plausibly understood not only in
terms of his being Irish but also in terms of Burke’s own long-term loving rela-
tionship to another man, Will Burke. Starting from the pathbreaking work of
Isaac Kramnick on the relationship of Edmund and Will5 and the extraordinary
homophobia of eighteenth-century Britain (which I document), I make this case
in two ways. First, there is Burke’s astonishing 1780s speech in the House of
Commons condemning the use of the pillory (proposing a law forbidding this
punishment) against two convicted homosexuals, leading to one of them being
murdered by a homophobic London mob (a speech eliciting homophobic insults
to Burke in London newspapers because he questions a violence that any true
man or woman would endorse and praise). And second, there is Burke’s remark-
able defense not only of political liberalism but also his analysis of the political
psychology of anti-liberal violence, which culminates in the prophetic depth
and insight of Reflections on the Revolution in France. Burke’s insights into this
political psychology are his central contribution to political liberalism, arising
in part from his understanding of and resistance to the homophobic violence of
the London mobs and that he later saw in the sometimes homophobic violence
of Parisian mobs (targeting Marie Antoinette, regarded as, among other things,
3 Sex, Drugs, Death and the Law: An Essay on Human Rights and Decriminalization (Totowa,
NJ: Rowman & Littlefield, 1982); Toleration and the Constitution (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1986); Foundations of American Constitutionalism (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1989); Conscience and the Constitution: History, Theory, and Law of the
Reconstruction Amendments (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993); Women, Gays,
and the Constitution: The Grounds for Feminism and Gay Rights in Culture and Law (Chicago,
IL: University of Chicago Press, 1998); Identity and the Case for Gay Rights: Race, Gender,
Religion as Analogies (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1999); Free Speech and the
Politics of Identity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999); Patriarchal Religion, Gender, and
Sexuality: A Critique of New Natural Law (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008);
Fundamentalism in American Religion and Law: Obama’s Challenge to Patriarchy’s Threat to
Democracy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010); The Rise of Gay Rights and the
Fall of the British Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013); Why Love Leads to
Justice: Love across the Boundaries (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015).
4 The Indian Supreme Court inferred a free-standing right of constitutional privacy in its 2017 deci-
sion in Justice KS Puttaswamy v. Union of India, Writ Petition (Civil) No 494 of 2012, 24 August
2017; and its 2018 opinion in Navtej Singh Johar & Ors. v. Union of India, Writ Petition (Civil)
No. 572 of 2016, 6 September 2018, the latter of which decriminalized gay sex on the basis of the
value of equal dignity, citing my work, among others.
5 Isaac Kramnick, The Rage of Edmund Burke: Portrait of an Ambivalent Conservative
(New York: Basic Books, 1977).
xiv Preface
6 Carol Gilligan and David A. J. Richards, The Deepening Darkness: Patriarchy, Resistance, and
Democracy’s Future (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009); see also Carol Gilligan
and David A. J. Richards, Darkness Now Visible: Patriarchy’s Resurgence and Feminist
Resistance (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018).
7 James Gilligan and David A. J. Richards, Holding a Mirror Up to Nature: Shame, Guilt, and
Violence in Shakespeare (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2022).
8 See, e.g., Yuval Levin, The Great Debate: Edmund Burke, Thomas Paine, and the Birth of
Right and Left (New York: Basic Books, 2014); C. B. Macpherson, Burke (New York: Hill &
Wang, 1980).
9 For a fuller discussion, see Edmund Fawcett, Conservatism: The Fight for a Tradition (Princeton,
NJ: Princeton University Press, 2020).
10 See Bourke, Empire and Revolution, pp. 889–91
11 See Levin, The Great Debate, pp. 205–22.
12 John Rawls, A Theory of Justice (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1971), pp. 75–83.
Preface xv
And then Yeats went on, incoherently, to concede Burke was a Whig, but not
guilty of “Whiggery,” “a levelling, rancorous, rational sort of mind /That never
looked out of the eye of a saint/Or out of drunkard’s eye.”17 For Yeats, however,
“Anglo-Ireland was associated with uncompromising intellectual achievement
(Swift and Goldsmith), conservative and anti-egalitarian politics (Burke), and
Neoplatonic philosophy (Berkeley, with some special pleading)—all core
values held” by Yeats himself.18 During an inter-war period when democracy
seemed inadequate to the challenge of fascism and the poet was concerned
with controlling violence in Ireland, Yeats reads Burke incoherently because
he cannot connect Burke’s astonishingly expressive and courageous liberal
voice (his “great melody”) to the priority of liberal values of voice over other
values, exactly the values of voice at threat by the fascism to which Yeats and
his friend Ezra Pound were attracted.19 On the one hand, Yeats came to appre-
ciate the humane ethical imagination of Burke that embraced the injustices
inflicted on the dehumanized (thus “the eyes of a saint / Or out of drunkard’s
eye”)—his “great melody”—but could not understand the egalitarian liberalism
that such voice rested on and developed as a model for future generations of
liberals resisting injustices that refuse to extend liberal equality to all persons,
a dehumanization that provokes violence. Yet, Yeats himself, as a senator in the
Irish parliament, spoke, invoking Burke’s liberal voice (“We are the people of
Burke”), against Catholic-intolerant censorship of literature by minorities, a vio-
lation of liberal equality.20
In contrast to these views, I argue that the enduring value of Burke’s life
and work rests on the central values of political liberalism that he advanced
and defended in criticizing profound injustices others could and would not
acknowledge, the central values of political liberalism that both Britain and the
U.S. shared and further developed over time. In his recent compelling treatment
of the history of liberalism, Edmund Fawcett focuses on three normative ideas
that he traces in the history and development of political liberalism as an idea
and practice: first, non-intrusion in privacy; second, non-obstruction of eco-
nomic and social aspiration, or not getting “in the way of social progress and
personal flourishing;” and third, “non-exclusion [which] was at root moral,”21
17 Ibid.
18 R. F. Foster, W.B. Yeats: A Life II, The Arch-Poet 1915–1939 (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2003), p. 346; Richard J. Finneran (ed.), The Collected Works of W. B. Yeats, Volume I: The
Poems (New York: Scribner, 1997), p. 346.
19 On this point, see Foster, W. B. Yeats, pp. 466–95. I am indebted for understanding the complex-
ities of Yeats’ views to the advice of Alexander Bubb. See Alexander Bubb, Meetings without
Knowing It: Kipling and Yeats at the Fin de Siecle (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016).
20 See Foster, W. B. Yeats, pp. 297–98.
21 Edmund Fawcett, Liberalism: The Life of an Idea, 2nd ed. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University
Press, 2018), pp. 125–29; see also Edmund Fawcett, Conservatism: The Fight for a Tradition
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2020).
Preface xvii
22 See John Rawls, Lectures on the History of Political Philosophy, edited by Samuel Freeman
(Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2007), p. 297. For a recent
British defense of Rawls as offering the best normative theory of British progressive liberalism,
see Daniel Chandler, Free and Equal: What Would a Fair Society Look Like? (London: Allen
Lane, 2023).
xviii Preface
Rockingham, one of the wealthiest men in England, until his death in 1782 and
who was prime minister for two brief periods (the first of which repealed the
Stamp Act, and the second of which led to the peace treaty with the U.S.). The
Rockingham Whigs resisted the authoritarian reformers centered in the king, but
did not support the radical Whigs, like Richard Price in England and Thomas
Paine in America, who called for a more extensive franchise than the narrow
property-owning franchise of late eighteenth-century Britain (expanded by
reform acts in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries to include all adults,
including women). It had been precisely the independent wealth of the establish-
ment Whigs that had been the basis for their independence from the crown and
its authoritarian claims at least until they lost power under George III, as well
as their independence from what they regarded as the often prejudiced views of
ordinary people (e.g., the anti-Catholic prejudice of the violent Gordon riot mobs,
reacting to the parliamentary attempt to emancipate Catholics, attacking Burke’s
home because of his sympathies for Catholics, including Irish Catholics).23
In the sense of those terms I have developed earlier, Britain was not in this
period remotely as democratic as it was later to be, but its institutions allowed
liberals, resisting monarchical absolutism, to take power and, even when they
lost power, to resist George III’s authoritarian reform in the British Empire (tax-
ation without representation), and Burke’s resistance exemplifies this develop-
ment in resistance to British imperialist authoritarianism in Ireland, America,
and India. To this extent, though Burke himself defended the ambitions of the
British Empire, his liberal critique anticipates the long period of criticism of
the British Empire, including, in the late twentieth century, the reasons for its
collapse.24 My interest in Burke is the view he developed and defended of the
form of constitutionalism that sustains the political liberalism that places a cen-
tral normative value on the equal liberties of conscience and speech, as both Mill
and Rawls do, as prior to other values, and demands that a realm be preserved
for the exercise of such rights based in a generalization of the argument for tol-
eration.25 The exercise of such core liberal rights takes the form, as it does in
the life and work of Burke, of the criticism of deviations from these rights, not
recognized in Ireland, America, India, or in France. Burke not only exemplifies
the exercise of these rights but also offers a political psychology that the refusal
to respect these equal liberties of the Irish, Americans, Indians, and French by
23 For the distinction among these various political groups in Britain and America during this
period, I am indebted to the discussion of Du Rivage, Revolution against Empire.
24 On this point, see David A. J. Richards, The Rise of Gay Rights and the Fall of the British
Empire: Liberal Resistance and the Bloomsbury Group (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2013).
25 See David A. J. Richards, Toleration and the Constitution (New York: Oxford University Press,
1986); Foundations of American Constitutionalism (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989);
Conscience and the Constitution: History, Theory, and Law of the Reconstruction Amendments
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993).
Preface xix
the use of unjust repression and violence itself elicits violence. Burke is a foun-
dational liberal voice in the understanding and development of constitutional
liberalism because he argues for an evidence-based account of how to develop
and preserve a constitutionalism that respects such rights, including the role
interpretive history must play in understanding and supporting such constitu-
tionalism, and how he came to develop and articulate a political psychology of
the real threats to such liberal constitutionalism, his enduring legacy to liber-
alism everywhere.
Madison shares Burke’s Lockean political liberalism, both justifying the
right to revolution when human rights are at threat and regarding the freedom of
thought and the inalienable right to conscience as central to such liberal rights.
There is also a comparable interest in political psychology, the theory of faction
that Madison prominently uses in The Federalist No. 10, to defend the fed-
eral system, as well as an interest in interpretive history in constitutional con-
structivism. What is of compelling interest in comparing Burke and Madison is
that, like Burke, Madison develops an argument for the importance of history
in the interpretation of liberal constitutionalism, which leads in later chapters
to a discussion of the appropriate role of appeals to history in both British and
American constitutionalism, including criticism of the interpretive originalism
that a majority of the current U.S. Supreme Court used in Dobbs v. Jackson and
other recent cases. What Madison does not see is the threat to liberal constitu-
tionalism that the constitution’s treatment of slavery would unleash, culmin-
ating in the civil war and America’s continuing struggle with its cultural racism
and cognate irrational prejudices that abridge universal human rights. Was this
a price worth paying? Burke thought not. Addressing that question is another
reason for writing this book.
Burke endorsed the 1787 U.S. Constitution as consistent with the kind of
deliberative reflection on evidence-based historical experience, including that of
the British Constitution and its defense by Montesquieu and others, and I show
in Chapter 2 exactly what it was in Madison’s liberal constructivism that Burke
came to admire, including its appeal to the political philosophy of John Locke
and the right to revolution that had been so important in the development of
British liberal constitutionalism in the Glorious Revolution of 1688. But Burke,
like Benjamin Franklin, had wanted to reconcile the Americans with the British
government and had warned the Americans prophetically that their separation
from Britain might lead to internecine disaster in its politics.
Burke’s argument, centering on both liberal principles and the anti-liberal
psychology of violence, clarifies, so I argue (Chapter 3), both the failure of
American constitutionalism to deal constitutionally with the gravest of liberal
evils, slavery, non-violently as the British did abolishing slavery in 1833 (which
Lincoln pointed to in indicting pro-slavery constitutionalism as betraying pol-
itical liberalism and the legitimacy of the 1787 Constitution). And it clarifies
as well (Chapter 4) the consequences of the British betrayal of liberalism in its
xx Preface
unjust treatment of both the Irish and the Indians, leading to unjust violence
against these peoples, and terrorism as among their responses, as Burke predicted.
Only outsiders to both British and American constitutionalism, Gandhi in India
and Martin Luther King, Jr. in the U.S., innovate non-violent forms of civil dis-
obedience that advance justice by exposing contradictions between their liberal
constitutionalism and Christian religion and the violence (including lynchings)
directed at liberal dissent.
During the nineteenth century and later, the parliamentary system in Britain
changed. Burke’s late eighteenth century
During this later period, the doctrine of parliamentary sovereignty was doc-
trinally defended by A. V. Dicey, and the historical role of the judiciary in
protecting rights less so. Rather, parliament became the central engine in the
advance of political liberalism in Britain through the expansion of the franchise
in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries culminating in extending the fran-
chise to women, as well as the emancipation of Catholics and Jews, as well as
enacting welfare state liberalism and socialist ownership of major industries,
in particular, when the Labour Party takes power in 1945–51. How can that
development during this period reasonably be squared with the British Empire,
in which the colonies (both settler and non-settler colonies) are not represented
in the British parliament? Dicey, for example, had problems making sense of
parliamentary supremacy since the premise of his argument, representation by
the affected people, was not satisfied.27 Democracy and liberalism here are in
tension, if not contradiction, as many liberal critiques of British imperialism and
its legacy argue.28 And, I argue, Burke was among these critics, as his political
26 Cone, Burke and the Nature of Politics: The Age of the French Revolution, pp. 36–37.
27 See Dylan Lino, “Albert Venn Dicey and the Constitutional Theory of the Empire,” Oxford
Journal of Legal Studies, 36:4 (2016): 751–80, and “The Rule of Law and the Rule of
Empire: A.V. Dicey in Imperial Contest.”
28 For liberal critiques of British imperialism and its consequences, see Priya Satia Time’s
Monster: How History Makes History (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2020);
Adom Getachew, Worldmaking after Empire: The Rise and Fall of Self- Determination
Preface xxi
psychology of violence explains how Britain’s betrayal of its own liberal values
gave rise, as it had done in America and in Ireland, to the violence and atrocity
in its colonies by both Britain and colonists. And, may not the empire itself, in
particular the increasingly authoritarian and militaristic rule of India defended
by James Fitzjames Stephen on crudely utilitarian grounds, have legitimated a
comparable reactionary argument in the U.K. that tragically undermined and
defeated Gladstone’s last great liberal project, home rule for Ireland (against
which Stephen inveighed), a worry that preoccupied Burke and others earlier?29
My interest in this question is another of my reasons for writing this book.
My approach to these issues in this book thus combines political theory (the
political liberalism both nations share and, indeed, progressively develop into
forms of economic and social liberalism) with the close study of the different
constitutional institutions each nation develops to advance its liberal ends, both
unsuccessfully and successfully, including the important role of political psych-
ology in their respective failures, drawing on the important work of the psych-
iatrist Dr. James Gilligan with whom I have cotaught for several years at the
New York University School of Law and collaborated on a recently published
book on what Shakespeare’s plays show us about the psychology of violence,
personal and political.30 Why does American Marbury judicial review fail to
meet its liberal ends of protecting human rights at least until World War II, while
British common law and parliamentary sovereignty are for long periods much
more successful? And how should we understand the increasing post-World War
II importance of the British judiciary in monitoring the administrative law of
parliament enforced by the executive, and the development, still controversial
in the U.K., of the role accorded the British judiciary in giving effect to the
Human Rights Act of 1998 (HRA), and the weight accorded by that legislation
to the judgments of the European Court of Human Rights under the European
Convention of Human Rights, in whose design the U.K. played an important
role in 1953. And why the institutional changes, including the European
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2019); Mahmood Mamdani, Neither Settler Nor
Native: The Making and Unmaking of Permanent Minorities (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press, 2020); Padraic X. Scanlan, Slave Empire: How Slavery Built Modern Britain
(London: Robinson, 2020); Roderick Matthews, Peace, Poverty, and Betrayal: A New History
of British India (London: Hurst, 2021); Sathnam Sanghera, Empireland: How Imperialism
Has Shaped Modern Britain (London: Penguin, 2021); Lisa Ford, The King’s Peace: Law and
Order in the British Empire (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2021); Mark Knights,
Trust and Distrust: Corruption in Office in Britain and Its Empire 1600–1850 (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2021); Caroline Elkins, Imperial Reckoning: The Untold Story of Britain’s
Gulag in Kenya (New York: Owl Books, 2005); Caroline Elkins, Legacy of Violence: A History
of the British Empire (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2022).
29 On this point, see Eric Stokes, The English Utilitarians and India (Oxford: Oxford at the
Clarendon Press, 1959), pp. 273–311.
30 See Gilligan and Richards, Holding a Mirror Up to Nature.
xxii Preface
Convention and HRA, domestic and international, after World War II? And why
are these changes now contested in Britain under the current Conservative gov-
ernment, and on what grounds? How and why do the U.K. and the U.S., after
their long separation, rediscover their common grounds in political liberalism
in the Atlantic Charter of 1941 and later institutional innovations both nations
forged? Both nations discover that they had made a catastrophic mistake in not
taking seriously the aggressive anti-liberal violence of fascism, and that the pro-
tection of human rights at home could not be isolated from threats abroad. Have
we learned from our mistakes, or rather sometimes repeated them (Iraq)?
As I earlier suggested, liberalism and democracy are not the same (the
Athenian democracy was highly democratic in ways neither British nor
American representative democracies are). Liberalism rests on the political
conviction that legitimate government must protect universal human rights,
which includes, of course, the rights of minorities. It is a conviction, in my view,
that both British and American liberalism share, which is shown by the ways
in which John Stuart Mill’s arguments in both On Liberty and The Subjection
of Women have had such political and constitutional resonance in both the
U.K. and the U.S. and elsewhere. The great historical constitutional difference
between the constitutionalism of these nations has been, since the late eight-
eenth century when Britain and the U.S. separated, importantly over the inter-
pretation of the British Constitution that, until that point, both peoples believed
they shared. This is shown by the different institutional embodiment each
nation gave to Montesquieu’s normative argument for the separation of powers,
which he argued the British Constitution with its balance of powers between
monarchy, a democratic House of Commons and aristocratic House of Lords
(both enjoying parliamentary supremacy), and independent judiciary admirably
embodied.31 Montesquieu certainly argued that judicial independence was an
important aspect of the British conception of its balanced constitution, but he
did not defend a role for the judiciary in checking other branches of govern-
ment,32 which would have undermined parliamentary supremacy as the ultimate
check on the excesses of the monarch and his ministers, and on even the people
when they violated human rights, including the right to property (a conception
of British constitutionalism that was, as we shall see, central to the liberalism of
Edmund Burke). In contrast, the American constitutional conception of the sep-
aration of powers, defined by the first three Articles of the Constitution of 1787,
not only repudiates parliamentary supremacy but also defines separate branches
of the national government (an executive presidency, a bicameral democratic-
ally elected legislature with different terms and constituencies, and a judiciary
that under Marbury v. Madison calls for judicial review of the constitutionality
31 See M. J. C. Vile, Constitutionalism and the Separation of Powers, 2nd ed. (Indianapolis,
IN: Liberty Fund, 1998).
32 On this point, see ibid., p. 102.
Preface xxiii
of the other branches of the national government and also state government),
precisely the checking function that the British conception of an independent
judiciary lacks.
It is not only the British and the Americans that take a different view of the
proper role of the judiciary in a liberal constitutionalism. In the wake of World
War II, forms of constitutionalism, influenced by the examples of both the
U.K. and the U.S., have taken different views, based on their own experience, of
the proper role of the judiciary in a constitutional democracy. Several of Britain’s
former settler colonies (Australia and New Zealand) reject the American in
favor of the British model;33 another (Canada) has adopted American-style judi-
cial review subject to parliamentary override both by the national and provin-
cial parliaments;34 and two others (South Africa and India) have adopted either
strong forms of American-style judicial review (South Africa35) or weaker but
still significant conceptions of judicial review because of the ease of parliamen-
tary amendment, not parliamentary supremacy (India36). Other constitutional
democracies in the nations of Western Europe, in the European Union, and
elsewhere have gravitated to American-style judicial review, which at least one
comparative constitutional lawyer has questioned as to whether such judicial
review serves defensible normative aims in Canada, Israel, New Zealand, and
South Africa,37 and others query whether it has been effective or the extent of its
effectiveness in the U.S.38 and India,39 arguing less so in the U.S. but more so in
India. And the political theorist Jeremy Waldron, based on British constitutional
experience, both prominently defends universal human rights and argues that
the British parliament has better defended such human rights, including the right
of abortion, than the U.S. Supreme Court, whose opinion in Roe v. Wade has
now been overruled whereas the right of abortion remains broadly acceptable in
33 On these points, see Cheryl Saunders, The Constitution of Australia: A Contextual Analysis
(Oxford: Hart, 2011); Matthew S. R. Palmer and Dean R. Knight, The Constitution of New
Zealand: A Contextual Analysis (Oxford: Hart, 2022).
34 Jeremy Webber, The Constitution of Canada: A Contextual Analysis (Oxford: Hart, 2021).
35 Heinz Klug, The Constitution of South Africa: A Contextual Analysis (Oxford: Hart, 2021).
36 Arun K. Thiruvengadam, The Constitution of India: A Contextual Analysis (Oxford: Hart,
2017). However, in line with the eternity clauses of the German Basic Law, the Indian Supreme
Court has appealed to a basic structure jurisprudence that limits the amendment powers and
undermines the basic structure of Indian democratic constitutionalism. On this point, see Samuel
Issacharoff, Democracy Unmoored: Populism and the Corruption of Popular Sovereignty
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2023), pp. 124–29, 155, 173.
37 See, e.g., Ran Hirschl, Towards Juristocracy: The Origins and Consequences of the New
Constitutionalism (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2004).
38 See Gerald Rosenberg, The Hollow Hope: Can Courts Bring about Social Change? 2nd ed.
(Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2008).
39 Gerald N. Rosenberg, Sudhir Krishnaswamy, and Shishir Bail, A Qualified Hope: The Indian
Supreme Court and Progressive Social Change (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019).
xxiv Preface
the U.K. precisely because, on Waldron’s view, the parliament both reasonably
debated and democratically resolved the issue.40
It is for this reason that my comparative investigation of British and U.S. con-
stitutionalism will explore what have been the strengths and weaknesses of both
the British and American positions, and why there is now in the U.S. perhaps
more skepticism by liberals about judicial review than there has ever been at
least since World War II, undoubtedly heightened by the Supreme Court’s recent
radically illiberal turn that I criticize at some length, and why, in contrast, in the
U.K. the judiciary has been increasingly looked to right the imbalance of power
in the executive no longer balanced by the kind of parliamentary independence
that Edmund Burke developed, endorsed, and defended.
Both British and American constitutionalism claim to speak to future
generations, and my argument (Chapter 5) compares their success at doing so
along a range of dimensions of written vs. unwritten constitutionalism, social
democracy, transformations of Lockean thought, culture vs. institutions, the
English Civil War and the American Civil War, U.K. referenda and Brexit,
representation, and the democratic objection to judicial review.
It is the alliance of Britain and the U.S. as liberal democracies at threat in World
War II from aggressive fascism that gives rise in both countries to arguments for
new forms of national, transnational, and international institutions that would
address the European political violence leading to World War I and culminating
in World War II (Chapter 6). Such constitutional constructivism in both nations
illustrates a Burkean wisdom in deliberating and implementing new constitutional
institutions that take seriously the role of liberal institutions in addressing the polit-
ical psychology of illimitable violence that, as Burke argued, warred on liberalism.
The recent development of populist forms of political illiberalism in the U.S.,
Britain, and elsewhere is the subject (Chapter 7) of a critique of the role patri-
archal religion has played both in recent appointments to the U.S. Supreme Court
and their originalist ideology, and in the politics of the U.K. urging watering
down the Human Rights Act of 1998 that gave greater weight to opinions of
the European Court of Human Rights interpreting the European Convention
on Human Rights in the interpretive opinions of the British judiciary. The
originalist approach of the new conservative majority of the Supreme Court in
Dobbs v. Jackson, reversing Roe v. Wade, critically undermines the legitimacy
of the U.S. Constitution in speaking to future generations and, on examination,
rests on the anti-liberal psychology that Burke argued was the major threat to
any defensible liberal constitutionalism. New natural law, the vehicle of this
originalism, exemplifies what Burke meant by a “political religion.”
The argument ends with a concluding discussion of the importance of these
issues to liberal constitutionalism.
40 Jeremy Waldron, “The Core of the Case against Judicial Review,” Yale LJ 115 (2006): 1346–406.
Acknowledgments
This work arose from collaborative work over the years with three remarkable
and generous friends to each of whom I am indebted and with each of whom
I have coauthored books, namely, Nicholas C. Bamforth (Queens College,
Oxford),1 James Gilligan,2 and Carol Gilligan.3
The idea of a comparative historical study of the U.K. and U.S. constitu-
tional law arose from ongoing weekly conversations on Zoom each week
between Nicholas in London and myself in New York City during the years of
the pandemic. I could not have written this book without these conversations
and Nick’s extraordinary generosity, intelligence, humor, patience, and support.
Conversations with my colleague Jeremy Waldron about his seminar on enlight-
enment constitutionalism (including sharing his syllabus) were also invaluable.
James Gilligan and I have cotaught a seminar at the New York University
School of Law for several years on retributivism, and we recently coauthored
a book on Shakespeare’s insights into personal and political violence, based on
Jim’s pathbreaking psychological insights into the causes and prevention of both
personal and political violence. It was conversations with Jim that first suggested
to me that Burke had made an important contribution to understanding political
violence, and this book is built on the collaborative framework arising from our
work together.
Carol Gilligan and I have cotaught a seminar, “Resisting Injustice,” at the
New York School of Law for the past 20 years, leading to our coauthoring
two books on patriarchy’s threat to democracy. Her insights into the develop-
mental psychology of girls into women, and boys into men, have illuminated
my understanding of the role of the initiation into patriarchy in the development
of both women and men, and the crucial importance of resistance to patriarchy
both to human happiness and to justice, as Burke’s life and work illustrate.
1 Nicholas Bamforth and David A. J. Richards, Patriarchal Religion, Gender, and Sexuality: A
Critique of New Natural Law (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008).
2 Gilligan and Richards, Holding a Mirror Up to Nature.
3 Gilligan and Richards, The Deepening Darkness and Darkness Now Visible.
xxvi Acknowledgments
Figure 0.1 Portrait of Edmund Burke: studio of Sir Joshua Reynolds © National Portrait
Gallery, London.
newgenprepdf
Acknowledgments xxvii
Figure 0.2 Portrait of James Madison by Gilbert Stuart. Courtesy National Gallery of
Art, Washington, D.C.
1 Burke’s Liberal Constitutionalism
1 For a fuller discussion in some depth, see Richard Bourke, Empire and Revolution: The Political
Life of Edmund Burke (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2015).
DOI: 10.4324/9781003410966-1
2 Burke’s Liberal Constitutionalism
controversial of my claims, I will need not only to draw on the best work on this
issue, but also situate the whole issue in the larger framework of the codes of
silence and concealment regarding homosexuality in eighteenth-century Britain
through which gay men would both find one another and shield themselves from
the virulent and quite violent homophobia of the period, including one of its
poets (Pope) and another of its greatest musicians, Handel,2 and perhaps Burke
himself.
The first humiliation is the subject of Isaac Kramnick’s important book, The
Rage of Edmund Burke: Portrait of an Ambivalent Conservative.3 Kramnick
focuses on Burke’s missing years (1750–56) when he flees from his tyrannical
father in Ireland to study law in the inns of court in London and undergoes a
personal crisis, clearly expressed in his letters and poems written during this
period, centering both on his vocation (his rejection of law, his father’s profes-
sion, for becoming a public intellectual publishing two important books and
later becoming a politician and member of the House of Commons) and his
sexuality and love life. He meets Will Burke, not a relation, a life-long intimate
friend who not only lives with Burke and his family, but collaborates closely
with Burke on important writings, including one about America that explains
Burke’s quite realistic understanding of the American situation, and plays a gen-
erous role in giving up his own proposed seat in parliament for Burke. The rela-
tionship is, in Kramnick’s view, clearly homoerotic, shown by the poems Burke
wrote to Will replete with expressions of sexual desire:
Burke later writes of his relationship to Will as “tenderly loved, highly valued,
and continually lived with, in a union not to be expressed, quite since our boyish
years.”6 Stanley Ayling, another Burke biographer, comments on Burke’s
2 For a brilliant and compelling investigation of this question, see Ellen T. Harris, Handel as
Orpheus: Voice and Desire in the Chamber Cantatas (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press, 2001).
3 New York: Basic Books, 1977.
4 Ibid., p. 76.
5 Ibid., p. 77.
6 Ibid., p. 72.
Burke’s Liberal Constitutionalism 3
“blinkered attachment” to Will, despite his improvidence, “there it is: loves other
than sexual may be as blind.”7 No serious biographer doubts this was one of the
central loves of Burke’s life, which may, as Kramnick argues, have at some
point been sexual. The ethical centrality of such personal relationships to Burke
is shown by the way in which he connects state abridgments of such intimate
relationships to what for him defines the inhumanity of the British actions in India
involving “the forced sale of children”8 or, later on in the French Revolution,
“five or six hundred drunken women, calling at the bar of the Assembly for the
blood of their own children, as being royalists or constitutionalists” or “fathers
to demand the blood of their sons, toasting that Rome had but one Brutus, but
that they could shew five hundred.”9 In Reflections on the Revolution in France,
these are
the worst of these politics of revolution … : they temper and burden the
breast, in order to prepare it for the desperate strokes which are sometimes
used in extreme occasion … . Plots, massacres, assassination, seem … a
trivial price for obtaining a revolution.10
7 See Stanley Ayling, Edmund Burke: His Life and Opinions (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1988),
p. 134.
8 Bourke, Empire and Revolution, p. 845.
9 Edmund Burke, “The First Letter on a Regicide Speech,” in Iain Hampsher-Monk (ed.),
Revolutionary Writings (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), pp. 253–334 at 311.
10 Edmund Burke, “Reflections on the Revolution in France,” in Hampsher-Monk, Revolutionary
Writings, pp. 3–250 at 65.
4 Burke’s Liberal Constitutionalism
Smith, who were sentenced, as part of their punishment for sodomy, to stand
in the pillory for an hour. Smith dies a victim of mob brutality. Burke spoke
eloquently in the House against this barbarity and secured a pension for
Smith’s widow. While sodomy was, he insisted, in his speech, “a crime of
all others the most detestable, because it tended to vitiate the morals of the
whole community, and to defeat the first and chief end of society,” the pun-
ishment of it should be tempered with mercy, inasmuch as it was a crime “of
the most equivocal nature and the more difficult to prove.” Better than cruelty
and fury, he suggested, were “reproach and shame.” The Morning Post of 13
April responded to Burke.
Every man applauds the spirit of the spectators, and every woman thinks
their conduct right. It remained only for the patriotic Mr. Burke to insinuate that
the crime these men committed should not be held in the highest detestation.
Burke brought suit for defamation of character against the newspaper, and
he won his case.11
many who frequented them had wives and children at home, represent a
landmark in the development of a separate identity for men who engaged in
same-sex acts. At the same time, the political instability of the late seven-
teenth century and early eighteenth centuries, including the fear of external
attack and internal revolution, of popery and absolutism, led to a rise of
zealous reformers … . The identification of certain establishments as molly
houses made them particularly vulnerable to attack, the more so because
the customers were typically members of the merchant and lower classes
and the reforming societies “dared not attack the aristocracy, at least not
directly.” The Society for the Reformation of Manners was founded in
1690; by 1699 there were nine societies and by 1701 there was twenty in
London alone.
The Societies quickly began their work of rounding up sodomites for pros-
ecution, and by 1698 a few individuals had been targeted for entrapment;
1699 saw the first successful group arrest … . In 1701 a larger raid netted …
between forty and one hundred arrests. At least three of these men committed
suicide.
After months of preparation and infiltration, in February 1716 Mother
Clap’s molly house was surrounded and forty men taken in arrest. Within
months about twenty other houses were raided as well. Although many of
those arrested were released for want of evidence, in fifteen cases of sodomy
brought to trial from the same period between 1726 and 1730 four men were
hanged; eight were fined and sentenced to prison and the pillory (from which
one died); and three were acquitted. These numbers can be compared to
twelve heterosexual rape cases from the same period, where one was hanged,
one punished, and ten acquitted.14
In 1730 and 1731 the Netherlands initiated a far more horrific purge in which
hundreds of men were arrested for sodomy and at least sixty were pub-
licly executed by ghastly means, such as strangling and burning, drowning
in a barrel, or strangling and drowning tied to a 100-pound weight. These
executions were widely publicized in London … .
In 1738, with the initial blast of reformers’ zeal expended and public con-
cern over paid informers rising, the Societies for the Reformation of Manners
disbanded, giving themselves the credit in their final report for “instigating
the prosecution of numbers of sodomites and sodomitical houses.”15
As the cases of the dramatists Isaac Bickerstaff and Samuel Foote later in
the century would show, an accusation of sodomy was sufficient to ruin a
career. Even the aristocratic class, traditionally less affected by an accus-
ation or acknowledgement of same-sex desire than were artists, merchants,
or laborers, was slowly retreating behind a wall of silence. Although at the
end of the seventeenth century Lord Rochester could banter publicly in his
writings about his same-sex loves, Lord Hervey in the eighteenth century
not only avoided any public commentary about himself but when accused
in 1731 of being a “pathick” (the passive partner in a sodomitical rela-
tionship) fought a duel to protect his honor before retreating into silence.
When Lord Bateman separated from his wife in 1738 on account of his
“male seraglio,” he seems to have been spared legal action partly because
he maintained a façade of silence. His wife’s grandmother, the Duchess
of Marlborough, wrote of him at this time: “They say Lord Bateman has
consented to do great things in this separation, which, if true, shows he is
very much frightened.”17
Why such silence in the first half of the eighteenth century?—“No written record
… expresses antipathy to or outrage against such extreme punishments.”18
The repressive psychology is clearly fear, whether the fear of Lord Bateman,
or that of Bentham himself, clearly admitted in the unpublished papers of the
English legal philosopher Jeremy Bentham (1748–1842) who had published his
Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation in 1789 defending his
utilitarian theory that the object of law should be the greatest happiness of the
great number. These unpublished papers contain for the first time in a major
political and legal philosopher a cogent criticism not only of the criminalization
of homosexuality, but also of homophobia itself.19 But, in writing about this
unpublished work and probably his reasons for not publishing, Bentham writes:
16 Ibid., p. 234.
17 Ibid., p. 240.
18 Ibid., p. 230.
19 See Jeremy Bentham, Of Sexual Irregularities, and Other Writings on Sexual Morality, edited
by Philip Schofield, Catherine Pease-Watkin, and Michael Quinn (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2014).
Burke’s Liberal Constitutionalism 7
A hundred times have I shuddered at the view of the perils I was exposing myself
to in encountering the opinions of men’s minds on [this] subject. As often have
I resolved to turn aside from a road so full of precipices, I have trembled at the
thoughts of the indignation that must be raised against the Apologist of a crime
that has been looked upon by many, and these excellent men, as one among the
blackest under Heaven. But the dye is now cast, & having thus far adhered with
the undeviating fidelity [to] the principles of general utility I at first adopted,
I will not at least abandon them for considerations of personal danger. I will
not have to reproach myself with the thought that those principles which my
judgment has approved, my fears have compelled me to abandon.20
We know with certainly who were “these excellent men” whom Bentham
so feared, in particular, Blackstone, whom Bentham had heard as a law stu-
dent at Oxford and was the critical object of much of Bentham’s utilitarian/
positivist legal philosophy. It is important to remind ourselves that for a
quite long period the traditional cultural status of homosexuals in America
and Britain was not, unlike people of color or women, a servile social status
unjustly rationalized on racist or sexist grounds, but no space at all. It was, in
Blackstone’s words, “a crime not fit to be named; peccatum illud horribile,
inter christianos non nominandum” in his Commentaries, vol. 4, *215—not
mentionable, let alone discussed or assessed. Blackstone’s Commentaries,
published in 1765, framed the American understanding of British common
law, adopted in the colonies and later in the states of the American republic,
as American common law, long before it was contested in Great Britain by
the Bloomsbury Group and others, linked by them to the critique of the vio-
lence of British imperial patriarchy, as I show in The Rise and Fall of the
British Empire21 (Britain would decriminalize consensual homosexuality in
1967). Such total silencing of any reasonable discussion rendered homosexu-
ality in America and Britain, a kind of cultural death, naturally thus under-
stood and indeed condemned as a kind of ultimate heresy or treason against
essential moral values. The English legal scholar Tony Honoré captured
this point exactly in Sex Law by his observation about the contemporary
status of the homosexual: “It is not primarily a matter of breaking rules but
of dissenting attitudes. It resembles political or religious dissent, being an
atheist in Catholic Ireland or a dissident in Soviet Russia.”22
It is against this background that we can see just how remarkable Burke’s par-
liamentary speeches of 1780 on sodomy prosecutions were. Ellen Harris, in her
A description of the “vast Concourse of People [that] had assembled upon the
Occasion … who had collected dead Dogs, Cats, … [etc.] in great Abundance,
which were plentifully thrown at them,” and of the death of one of the men
convicted for attempted sodomy and the horrible injuries of the other appears
in The Daily Advertiser, 11 April 1780, p. 1, col. 2.25
Burke’s great speech of 1780 begins with a quite precise description of these
newspaper reports:
He said, the matter which had induced him to make these reflections was
the perusal of a melancholy circumstances stated in the newspapers of this
morning … . The relation he alluded to, was that unhappy and horrid murder
of a poor wretch, condemned to stand in the pillory the preceding day. The
account stated that two men (Reed and Smith) had been doomed to this pun-
ishment; that one of them being short of stature, and remarkably shortnecked,
he could not reach the hole made for the admission of his head, in the awk-
ward and ugly instrument used in this mode of punishment; that the officers
of justice, nevertheless, forced his head through the hole, and the poor wretch
hung rather than walked as the pillory turned round: that previous to his being
put in, he had deprecated the vengeance of the mob, and begged that mercy,
which from their exasperation at his crime, and their want of considering the
consequences of their cruelty, they seemed very little to bestow. That he soon
grew black in the face and the blood forced itself out of his nostrils, his eyes
23 Harris’ case for this, based on both a close study of Handel’s life and works, is reasonable and
persuasive. See Richard Taruskin in his Music in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries: The
Oxford History of Western Music (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), vol. 2, p. 340: “Many
scholars now agree, Handel, a lifelong bachelor, was probably what we now call a closeted
gay man.”
24 Harris, Handel as Orpheus, p. 231. Burke’s speech is given in The Parliamentary History of
England from the Earliest Period to the Year 1803 (London: Printed by T. C. Hansard, 1814),
vol. 21, cols. 388–89.
25 Quoted in Harris, Handel as Orpheus, p. 409, n. 53.
Burke’s Liberal Constitutionalism 9
and his ears. That the mob, nevertheless attacked him and fellow criminal
with great fury. That the officers seeing his situation, opened the pillory, and
the poor wretch fell down dead on the stand of the instrument. The other man,
he understood was so maimed and hurt by what had been thrown at him, that
he now lay without hope of recovery.26
Burke then seized the occasion to propose that a bill be introduced to abolish
the pillory since it was open to such abuse. Burke’s brave and unprecedented
raising of the issue prompted others to voice their own misgivings. Another
member told how a man he had known at Bury, condemned for the same
crime, has swallowed poison fearing “the populace would be so exasperated
against him that they would take his life.” He was exposed the next day and
was “so severely treated by the populace that he dies that night in goal, and
whether he died from the poison, or in consequence of his ill treatment from
the mob had never been ascertained.”
Burke had the satisfaction of seeing the undersheriff for Surrey tried for
murder; not surprisingly, the jury acquitted him. Burke himself, though
complemented in the House on his humanity, suffering much abuse in the
press for his stand. The Morning Post complained: “Every man applauds
the spirit of the spectators, and every woman thinks their conduct right. It
remained only for the patriotic Mr. Burke to insinuate that the crime these
men committed should not be held in the highest detestation than igno-
minious death.” Four years later, the Public Advertiser also attacked Burke
maliciously for showing sympathy for homosexuals. In both cases Burke sued
for libel and won. He was able to obtain a pension for the dead coachman’s
widow, a circumstance that suggests that not all levels of British officialdom
were as passionately homophobic as the press.29
26 Quoted in Louis Crompton, Byron and Greek Love: Homophobia in 19th-Century England
(Berkley: University of California Press, 1985), p. 32.
27 Ibid.
28 Quoted in ibid.
29 Crompton, Byron and Greek Love, pp. 32–33.
10 Burke’s Liberal Constitutionalism
30 For criticism of this approach, see Kenneth Lewes, The Psychoanalytic Theory of Male
Homosexuality (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1988). For more recent discussions along these
lines, see R. W. Isay, Becoming Gay: The Journey to Self-Acceptance (New York: Vintage,
1966); R. W. Isay, Being Homosexual: Gay Men and Their Development (New York: Vintage,
1989); R. W. Isay, Commitment and Healing: Gay Men and the Need for Romantic Love
(New York: Wiley, 2006); K. Corbett, Boyhoods: Rethinking Masculinities (New Haven,
CT: Yale University Press, 2009).
31 See, on this point, Lewes, The Psychoanalytic Theory of Male Homosexuality, pp. 213–41.
Burke’s Liberal Constitutionalism 11
painter Joshua Reynolds, and other luminaries of the period. His intellectual
and expressive gifts were recognized and rewarded by the Rockingham Whigs,
and his long service as their spokesperson in the House of Commons placed
him at the center of British public life. He was also a committed Protestant
Anglican Christian. In a cultural world framed by Blackstone’s Christian homo-
phobia, whatever homoerotic feelings Burke had for Will and Will for him could
never be publicly acknowledged, but the depth of their long loving relationship,
as love, is, if anything, confirmed by how, as we earlier saw, his biographer
Stanley Ayling puzzles over what many regarded during Burke’s lifetime as his
“blinkered attachment” to Will, despite his improvidence, concluding: “There it
is: loves other than sexual may be as blind.”32 And why not sexual at some point
as well, as Kramnick documents? Why cannot we see and appreciate the power
of love, gay or straight, in a well-lived human life in all its complexity?
It should be an important feature of our coming to honest terms with the
unreasonable treatment of sexuality in general and homosexuality in particular
by historical forms of Christianity33 that we can now better understand remark-
able people like Burke who had to accept such unreasonable treatment as nor-
mative, and yet still remain vitally alive in the homosexual love Burke held
onto throughout his life. Having myself lived through an earlier period of my
life quite like Burke’s, I understand this psychology intimately and how finding
and holding on to the love of another man becomes central to one’s sense of
a range of injustices inflicted on stigmatized minorities (afflicted by what
I called a culture of moral slavery directed at people of color, Jews, women,
and others34) even when that indignation cannot be directly expressed, as queer
people, like myself, may and do express it today.35 But, even under the repres-
sive circumstances of the cultural homophobia under which Burke lived, Burke
like other such creative men could and did. The psychiatrist Hans Loewald
offers a psychoanalytic view of sublimation not as a neurotic defense against
unacceptable impulses, but as a development of intellectual and emotionally
mature competence and ego strength36 that fits my own developmental experi-
ence and may fit Burke’s. On this view, which questions the distinction between
32 See Stanley Ayling, Edmund Burke: His Life and Opinions (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1988),
p. 134.
33 For a fuller discussion, see Nicholas C. Bamforth and David A. J. Richards, Patriarchal Religion,
Sexuality, and Gender: A Critique of New Natural Law (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2008).
34 For a fuller discussion, see Carol Gilligan and David A. J. Richards, The Deepening
Darkness: Patriarchy, Resistance, and Democracy’s Future (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2009), pp. 10, 18–20, 72, 133–34, 197, 215.
35 On my personal history, see David A. J. Richards, Boys’ Secrets and Men’s Loves: A Memoir
(Bloomington, IN.: Xlibris, 2019).
36 For Loewald on sublimation, see Hans W. Loewald, The Essential Loewald: Collected Papers
and Monographs (Hagerstown, MD: University Publishing Group, 2000), pp. 439–520.
12 Burke’s Liberal Constitutionalism
37 See Hans Loeward, “Primary Process, Secondary Process, and Language,” in The Essential
Loewald: Collected Papers and Monographs, pp. 178–206.
38 See Hans Kant (ed.), “Perpetual Peace: A Philosophical Sketch,” in Kant’s Political Writings
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970), pp. 93–130.
39 See Crompton, Byron and Greek Love, pp. 118–20.
40 Ibid., p. 42. On Byron’s similar hypocrisy, see pp. 120–21.
Burke’s Liberal Constitutionalism 13
Burke spoke eloquently in the House against this barbarity and secured a
pension for Smith’s widow. While sodomy was, he insisted, in his speech, “a
crime of all others the most detestable, because it tended to vitiate the morals
of the whole community, and to defeat the first and chief end of society,” the
punishment of it should be tempered with mercy, inasmuch as it was a crime
“of the most equivocal nature and the more difficult to prove.”42
41 When the famed “Ladies of Llangollen,” who lived as a same-sex couple privately in Wales,
were exposed by a newspaper, they asked Burke whether to sue for libel to protect their private
lives. He advised them not to sue. See Crompton, Byron and Greek Love, pp. 103–04.
42 Kramnick, The Rage of Edmund Burke, p. 84.
43 Ibid., p. 234.
44 Crampton, Byron and Greek Love, pp. 165–66.
45 Ibid., p. 167.
46 See Lynn Hunt, “The Many Bodies of Marie Antoinette: Political Pornography and the Problem
of the Feminine in the French Revolution,” in Lynn Hunt (ed.), Eroticism and the Body Politic
(Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1991), pp. 108–31.
47 As an example of this widespread view not only in France, Samuel Johnson’s friend Hester
Thrale wrote a few months before the French revolution: “The Queen of France is at the Head
of a Set of Monsters call’d by each other Sapphists, who boast her Example; and deserve to be
thrown with the He Demons that haunt each other likewise, into Mount Vesuvius.” Quoted in
Crompton, Byron and Greek Love, pp. 35–36.
14 Burke’s Liberal Constitutionalism
Burke to insinuate that the crime these men committed should not be held in
the highest detestation than ignominious death.” The newspaper approves the
violence and claims no one could be a true man or a true woman who did not
approve the violence. Even Bentham takes seriously and rationally exposes
the irrationality of the widespread homophobic view (found, for example, in
the Orpheus myth as told by Ovid in his Metamorphoses,48 Orpheus murdered
by the Thracian women—dismembering him—because of his preference for
men49) that homosexuality humiliates women, a view that rationalizes the vio-
lent homicidal rage of women and others in defense of patriarchal gender roles
now in doubt and thus at threat.50 The issue of enforcing patriarchal gender roles
is quite clear here, indeed by illimitable violence if anyone like the “sodomites”
flouts such roles or like Burke implicitly criticizes the violence enforcing such
gender roles. The violence of patriarchy could not be more salient, and Burke’s
resistance to it more telling about the depth of his liberalism and his psycho-
logical understanding of the roots of mob violence, the subject of “Reflections
on the Revolution in France.”
In his path-breaking study of male violence based on his work with violent
criminals in American prisons, Dr. James Gilligan observes the central role
homophobia plays in the violence of such criminals inflicted on other criminals
with whom they are often having sex, consensually and non-consensually.51
Indeed, Gilligan has come to think that homophobia, expressing violence
against men who love other men because they violate the norms of patriarchal
manhood, is implicit in male violence generally, inflicted on anyone (male or
female) who flouts patriarchal gender roles (personal communication from
James Gilligan). But, women are much less prone to homicidal violence than
men, so how should we understand the homophobic violence of the London and
Parisian mobs, including women prominently?
When women are homicidally violent, like Medea killing her children
when her lover abandons her for another woman, it arises from very extreme
humiliations, a shaming, as in Euripides’ play, in which, as Medea explains:
48 See Ovid, Metamorphoses, translated by David Raeburn (New York: Penguin, 2004), pp. 385–
86, 422–25.
49 On this point, see Harris, Handel as Orpheus, pp. 32–35, 43–45, 155, 238–39.
50 On this point, see Crompton, Byron and Greek Love, pp. 49–52. On the shifts in gender
conceptions during this period, see Randolph Trumbach, Sex and the Gender Revolution. Volume
One: Heterosexuality and the Third Gender in Enlightenment London (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1998).
51 See Trumbach, Sex and the Gender Revolution, pp. 76, 81, 83–84, 156–57, 164, 171, 189.
52 Euripides, “Medea,” in Medea and Other Plays, translated by Philip Vellacott (London: Penguin,
1963), pp. 17–61 at 41.
Burke’s Liberal Constitutionalism 15
53 See James Gilligan, Violence: Reflections on a National Epidemic (New York: Vintage Books,
1997), pp. 20, 58.
54 See htttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Medea.
55 “I’d rather stand three times in the front line than bear/One child:” Euripides, “Medea,” p. 25.
56 For a further discussion of both Lady Macbeth and Volumnia along these lines, see James
Gilligan and David A. J. Richards, Holding a Mirror Up to Nature: Shame, Guilt, and Violence
in Shakespeare (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2022), pp. 67–77, 89–93.
57 Trumbach, Sex and the Gender Revolution, pp. 69–228.
16 Burke’s Liberal Constitutionalism
So potent an instrument of terror were they that judges of the King’s Bench
ruled in 1779 that their use in extortion cases made the crime equivalent to
highway robbery at pistol point.59
Within the context of the eighteenth century, it would have been normal for
Handel to share his creative and intellectual interests with men. Generally
speaking, women were still not given the benefit of a serious education,
so that the “marriage of true minds” could only occur between men—
suggesting at least one possible reason the biblical David could say of his
deceased friend Jonathan. “The love to me was wonderful, passing the love
of women.”60
Burke was apparently quite happily married and devoted to his children, but his
enduring love for Will gave him something unique, “tenderly loved, highly valued,
and continually lived with, in an union not to be expressed, quite since our boyish
years,”61 a love that lasted and played a significant role in Burke’s understanding of
both America and India, on which he drew in two of his great acts of liberal resist-
ance (America and India). Such a gender-bending love itself gives rise to resistance
to protect not only the love itself, but, as in Burke’s case, a wider resistance to other
forms of injustice.62
The other humiliation Burke endured has been explored by Conor Cruise
O’Brien’s The Great Melody,63 namely, the humiliation of being of Irish eth-
nicity with a Catholic mother and wife, combining the peculiarly British toxic
brew of ethnic and religious prejudice. In contrast to his homosexuality, on this
issue Burke spoke and wrote quite explicitly not only about the long-standing
British injustice of ethnic and religious prejudice against the Irish,64 but, quite
prophetically, that the failure to extend the toleration required by political liber-
alism would lead to the Anglophobia of Irish revolutionary violence, including
terrorism.65 Burke had written of the treatment of Catholics in Ireland “no good
Constitution of Governm[en]t can find it necessary for its security to form any
part of its subject to permanent slavery.”66 Both because of his Irish ethnicity
and Catholic family connections (in fact, Burke was a committed Anglican),
Burke had experienced throughout his life in Britain the populist irrational
prejudices arising from the long history of intolerance of Catholics both in
England and Ireland, including, notably, both him and his London home being
targeted by the violent mobs of the Gordon riots, triggered by the demagogy of
Lord George Gordon protesting the measure of parliamentary emancipation of
Catholics in the Catholic Relief Act of 1778.67 Important studies by Tim Clayton
of the general pattern of political caricature of this period (including some not-
able attacks on Burke)68 and the study of Nicholas Robinson on caricatures of
Several days were given over to debating a new, more radical document,
the Agreement of the People. Embodying the truly novel and revolutionary
concepts of the sovereignty of the people over Parliament, and a written con-
stitution enacted by the signatures of all the freeborn men of England, it also
delineated a set of key points that were to be reserved to the people alone and
that no government could exercise. Without monarch or House of Lords, it
envisioned a single-chamber representative model of a free state—in short a
republic. Although its authority was anonymous, the Agreement was at one
level simply the New Model’s “fulfilling of our Declaration of June the 14,”
69 Nicholas K. Robinson, Edmund Burke: A Life in Caricature (New Haven, CT: Yale University
Press, 1996).
70 See ibid., p. 136.
71 On this point, see Bourke, Empire and Revolution, pp. 498–506.
72 Ibid., p. 685.
73 For a fuller discussion, see Ian Gentles, The New Model Army: Agent of Revolution (New Haven,
CT: Yale University Press, 2022).
20 Burke’s Liberal Constitutionalism
as its authors affirmed in their postscript. Printed on the army’s own press,
it was essentially an army, not a Leveller document. There was obviously
Leveller input—from William Walwyn, John Wildman, Maximilian Petty
and Henry Marten. But in the end if came from a “thoroughly politicised
army that was capable of thinking for itself.”74
The Agreement enjoyed support within the army, but was resisted by the army’s
leaders, Cromwell and Ireton. After the Agreement was read out, Ireton objected to
universal manhood suffrage:
If there was to be no accountability to the soldiers of the New Model Army, there
was little accountability either to the parliamentary institutions that continued
to exist, as Cromwell essentially used military force to exclude members of
parliament with whom he disagreed and insisted on the execution of Charles
that few wanted and most came to regret.76 Cromwell’s militarism, in Ireland,
for example, took the form of mindless retributivism against Catholics for their
1641–42 massacre of Protestants, leading to his own massacres of Catholics
74 Ibid., p. 94.
75 Ibid., p. 57.
76 Ibid., pp. 128–57.
Burke’s Liberal Constitutionalism 21
(some 300,000)77 and his refusal to allow the practice of Catholicism.78 And
he established the plantations in Ireland to reward his Protestant soldiers and
others, setting the stage for the colonial system in Ireland at the expense of
majority Catholics.79 After the death of Cromwell, the last gasp of revolu-
tionary militarism was the announcement by the last military junto that all pre-
vious parliamentary laws were invalid. “This was the first time in England’s
history that an army or any other body had even presumed to cancel an Act
of Parliament.”80 Some British people may happily have welcomed back the
monarchy, resenting the suppression of traditional festive culture—“Morris dan-
cing, Christmas celebrations, Sabbath sports, bear-baiting, cockfighting, horse-
racing, the theatre and alehouses,” as well as, more seriously, “the ballooning
expense of an increasingly bloated army … . In later centuries the New Model
Army would be admired for having tamed absolute monarchy, advanced the
cause of democracy and begun the long process of law reform. The other aspect
of its legacy would be the enduring popular suspicion of standing armies, and an
aversion to Puritanism.”81
As we earlier saw, Burke’s argument in Reflections was prompted by the
defense of the French Revolution by a British radical Whig, Richard Price, and
at the very beginning expressly connects Price’s defense, both in spirit and con-
tent, to a sermon during the English Civil War of Hugh Peter,82 “the Independent
chaplain who had fortified the army before its marched on London for Pride’s
purge in 1648. Like Price, in preaching love to mankind, Peter is alleged to have
spread hatred among fellow citizens … . It was no accident that Burke chose to
juxtapose Price’s sermon with the exhortations of a seventeenth-century regi-
cide preacher.”83 How was Peter connected to the tragedy of the 1640s?
Peter had played a notorious role in the climax of the decade, conspiring
with Ireton and Cromwell to secure the execution of the king. On the eve
of Charles I’s death, he delivered a gruesome sermon based on Isiah 14:19–
20: “thou art cast out of thy grave like an abominable branch.” An address at
St. James’s Chapel on 28 January 1648 beseeching the saintly to “bind their
kings with chains and their nobles with fetters of iron” enjoyed notoriety even
after the restoration. In the fifth volume of his History of England, Hume
cited as a favourite “among the enthusiasts of that age.” It was most probably
347. The following order was published upon this occasion, Aug. 27th: “The
Major-General Commanding, [at Aldershot] desires to express to the
Commanding Officer his sense of the general good conduct of the Battalion
and the attention they have paid to their drill during the time they have been
under his command, and to request them to accept his thanks accordingly.”
348. For stations occupied by the Coldstream, see Appendix No. XV.
349. It will be remembered that the north side of Sevastopol commands the
south side. The capture of the former would have jeopardized the latter; but
the fall of the south side left the other intact.
352. The duties in the Karabelnaya district were composed of seven guards,
amounting all told to 2 Captains, 4 Subalterns, 12 sergeants, 2 drummers, 12
corporals, and 249 privates.
At first the Brigade supplied 500 men daily for road-making; but later in the
year these parties were frequently double that strength. It also furnished
large fatigue-parties of several hundred men to bring up huts from Balaklava,
wherein to lodge the troops.
Musketry was carried out with considerable energy during the winter
months, and special orders on the subject were issued by the Commander of
the Forces.
354. Nolan, ii. 638. Assistant-Surgeons Wyatt and Trotter of the Coldstream
gained the special thanks of the French authorities for the assistance they
afforded to the wounded upon that occasion.
It appears that our troops had cause to be somewhat accustomed to this
class of misadventure. Under date Nov. 14th, Colonel Tower writes, “On guard
in the Redan; as I was walking about inside the works, I met two of my men
who were off duty, with pipes in their mouths, wandering about. I cautioned
them, and told them there had been many accidents. A short time afterwards
my sergeant came rushing up to me with all his eyebrows singed off, to tell
me Goodram and Bates (the two men) were buried alive in a Russian
magazine. I got Engineers, and we dug for a long time in smoking ruins; at
last we came upon them, burnt to cinders, and hardly a bone in either of their
bodies that was not broken.... They died soon after we got them out.
Goodram was a most gallant fellow, and would have got the V.C. for going
into the Redan with the assaulting party on the 8th of September. They had
trodden on a fougasse left, probably on purpose, by the enemy when he
evacuated.”
Private Goodram, it appears, slipped out of camp at night, September 7th-
8th, crept close to the Redan in the dark, and joined the leading files of the
storming party. He greatly distinguished himself during the assault, and is said
to have been the first man to reach the parapet of the work.
355. Wyatt, 91. Written in 1858, before the small barracks in Portman
Street and St. George’s ceased each to contain the head-quarters and the
main portion of a Guards Battalion.
358. “A ball will be given to-morrow, in honour of the birth of the Imperial
Prince, by the Officers of the 1st Division of the Corps of Reserve French
army, in their camp on the Woronzoff road, near the Sardinian army, to which
all the English ladies and the Officers of the English army are invited. Officers
attending the ball will appear in full dress uniform, but without swords and
spurs” (Head-Quarter Memo. , March 31, 1856).
360. Five more were transferred to the Regiment (during the war); after
they had left the Crimea, viz. Majors Hon. W. Boyle, Conolly, V.C., and Maxse
(the two last wounded), Captain Hedworth Jolliffe, and Lieutenant W. Stirling.
The latter fought against the Russians in the Navy, as did also Lieutenant W.
F. Seymour (who, however, joined the Coldstream in the Crimea). Naval-Cadet
J. B. Sterling, moreover, served in the war, but he was not gazetted to the
Regiment till 1861.
361. The difference made in the Regiment by the war will be seen by
comparing the above with the following, giving the list in February, 1854:—
Lieut.-Colonel.—Colonel H. Bentinck.
Majors.—Colonels C. Hay; Hon. A. Upton.
Captains.—Colonels W. Codrington; Hon. G. Upton; J. Clitherow; G.
Drummond; (Mounted). Lieut.-Colonels Lord F. Paulet; H. Daniell; Hon. R.
Boyle; W. Newton: Colonel W. Trevelyan: Lieut.-Colonels S. Perceval; M.
Tierney; T. Crombie; Hon. T. V. Dawson; T. Steele; H. Cumming; W. M. Wood.
Lieutenants.—Captains C. Cocks; P. Somerset; J. C. Cowell; J. Halkett; D.
Carleton; Lord A. C. FitzRoy; C. Burdett; F. Newdigate (Adjutant); L.
MacKinnon; Sir G. Walker, Bart.; W. Dawkins; H. Jolliffe; C. Strong; Lord
Dunkellin; C. Wilson; Hon. A. Hardinge; F. Burton; Hon. P. Feilding (Adjutant);
W. Reeve; Hon. G. Eliot; C. Baring; J. H. Le Couteur; H. Bouverie; H.
Armytage.
Ensigns.—Lieutenants Hon. H. Byng; A. Thellusson; H. Cust; P. Crawley; Sir
J. Dunlop, Bart.; G. Goodlake; F. Ramsden; Lord Bingham; H. Tower; Hon. W.
Wellesley; Hon. R. Drummond; P. Wyndham; E. Disbrowe; A. Fremantle; C.
Greville; M. Heneage.
Quartermasters.—A. Hurle; A. Falconer.
Surgeon-Major.—J. Munro, M.D. Battalion Surgeon.—J. Skelton, M.D.
Assistant-Surgeons.—F. Wildbore; J. Wyatt.
363. Appendix XII. It will be observed that the losses mentioned in the text
do not take into account those of the Navy incurred on board ship. On the 8th
of May, 1856, Lord Panmure made a statement in the House of Lords, to the
effect that from the 19th of September, 1854 (that is, the day before the
battle of the Alma), 270 Officers and 19,314 men were killed, or died of
wounds or of disease, and that 2873 men were discharged the service as
incapacitated for further service by war; total, 22,457 casualties,—excluding,
apparently, soldiers who died on board ship, sailors and marines serving on
shore, and departmental troops. It seems strange that this imperfect
statement should be sometimes quoted, instead of the return above
mentioned, even though the latter is far from being satisfactory, and does not
complete the tale of the losses to the Naval and Military Forces of the Crown
during the war with Russia.
364. For some years, after 1856, it appears that the Field-Officer in Brigade
Waiting continued to exercise considerable control over the military affairs of
the Guards. The Major-General Commanding issued general orders, the
details of which were carried out by the Field-Officer. Between 1856 and 1868
the Foot Guards were called a Division; but April 27th of the latter year, the
old term Brigade was again restored, and it was directed that the General’s
orders should be called “Brigade Orders,” while those emanating from the
Field-Officer should be termed “Sub-brigade Orders.” The “Sub-brigade Office”
was abolished February 28, 1873. The Home District, created in 1870, was
placed under the command of the Major-General Commanding the Brigade of
Guards, and this arrangement still prevails.
CHAPTER XIII.
A PERIOD OF WAR, 1856-1871.
Reductions after the war—Comparison between the situations in Europe, in 1815 and
in 1856—Fresh troubles and complications imminent—Many wars and
disturbances—Scientific instruction introduced into the army—Practical training of
the troops carried out—The material comfort of the soldier attended to—Military
activity in England in 1859—The Earl of Strafford succeeded by General Lord
Clyde—Death of H.R.H. the Prince Consort—Misunderstanding with the United
States of America—Chelsea barracks completed—Marriage of H.R.H. the Prince of
Wales—Death of Lord Clyde; succeeded by General Sir W. Gomm—The Brigade of
Guards Recruit Establishment—Public duties in London—Fenian troubles in
Ireland; the 1st and 2nd Battalions succeed each other there; the Clerkenwell
outrage—Reforms in the armament of the British infantry.
The 2nd Coldstream relieved the 1st Battalion early in 1867, and also
remained in Ireland for twelve months under conditions nearly similar
to those that existed in 1866. At the end of this period, the Lieutenant-
Colonel was able to express to the Regiment the high opinion
entertained by the General Commanding the Forces of the 2nd
Battalion, and his own gratification at this good opinion “during trying
times, and when the men were exposed to mischievous
temptations.”[384]
Nor had the Battalions of the Brigade stationed in London an easy
time during these two years (1866-1867), for they too were harassed
by popular effervescence. A reform bill was before the country, and
many demagogues, attended by their followers, found it easy to disturb
the public peace. Towards the end of July, 1866, the troops were
confined to their quarters; a wing of the 2nd Coldstream occupied
Knightsbridge barracks during the day; the Major-General took post at
the Magazine, to receive reports should anything extraordinary happen;
the piquets were increased; a magistrate was placed in every London
barrack, and for a few days all Officers on leave were recalled. Next
year, the fear of riots still haunted the authorities, and on several
occasions the public duties were doubled. But this was little when
compared with the excitement produced by the explosion at the
Clerkenwell House of Detention on the 13th of December—an outrage
of a vile type, perpetrated by the Fenians for the purpose of terrorizing
the Government. Immediate steps were taken to defend the Metropolis
from a repetition of another such dastardly attempt upon the lives of
innocent persons, and for nearly a month the troops were busily
engaged, while the ordinary military exercises, marches, gun drill, and
gymnastic courses were suspended. A guard was immediately sent to
Clerkenwell, of 100 rank and file, under three Officers; sentries carried
their rifles loaded; strong piquets, of 100 men under a Captain and
Lieutenant-Colonel, were mounted daily in the principal barracks; half
the Officers doing duty were held available for any sudden emergency,
from five in the afternoon till eleven o’clock at night; the Captain of the
Queen’s Guard was made responsible for calling upon the nearest
piquet to turn out in case of disturbance; a guard was furnished at
Millbank prison, and over the small-arm factories in London; signal
communication by rockets was established between the barracks and
where an attack might be expected; a party of the 2nd Scots Fusilier
Guards was despatched to Cowes and to Osborne; the Bank piquet
remained on duty for twenty-four hours on Sundays and on Christmas
day, and all leave and furloughs were suspended. At the Tower,
moreover, where the 1st Coldstream were quartered, the Officer of the
main guard patrolled round the ditches and wharves during the night.
These arrangements were not relaxed till the 11th of January, 1868,
and things did not resume their normal course until somewhat later. But
as a net result of the Clerkenwell outrage, it may be mentioned that the
metropolitan barracks were put in telegraphic communication with the
Horse Guards, and the work was completed in March, 1868. By an
order of the 31st of December, 1867, also, two Non-commissioned
officers per Battalion were told off to be instructed in the duties of
telegraphist.
In 1867, the Sultan of Turkey came to England, and in 1869 his
nominal vassal, the Khedive (the Viceroy of Egypt), did the same thing.
There were reviews upon these occasions in their honour, and other
martial displays; but these visits, though of political importance, need
not further be alluded to here, since, in a military sense, they entailed
only the ordinary duties performed by the Brigade when a foreign
Sovereign is received in State by Her Majesty the Queen.
Between 1866 and 1871 the following changes took place in the
command of the Regiment. In May, 1866, Colonel Wood having retired,
Colonel Dudley Carleton became Lieutenant-Colonel, and thereupon
Colonel Airey, promoted Major, assumed the command of the 1st
Battalion, under the rule of the 19th of January, 1864, already quoted;
while Colonel Stepney remained with the 2nd Battalion, until the 14th
of August, when, retiring on half-pay, he was succeeded by Colonel
Strong. The latter also shortly afterwards (March 15, 1867) went on
half-pay, and the command of this Battalion devolved upon Colonel
Hon. A. Hardinge; on the 23rd of October following, Colonel Hon. Percy
Feilding was promoted Major, commanding the 1st Battalion, Colonel
Airey having left the Regiment. Colonel Hardinge succeeded Colonel
Carleton as Lieutenant-Colonel, September 2, 1868, when Colonel C.
Baring was posted to the command of the 2nd Battalion. Shortly
afterwards the establishment of the Regiment was reduced by one
Major, and the following Brigade Order was issued on the 29th of May,
1869, to direct how this reduction should be brought about—
The opportunity to give effect to this order did not come in the
Coldstream until January 4, 1871, when, on the retirement of Colonel
Hardinge, Colonel Hon. P. Feilding, C.B., was promoted Lieutenant-
Colonel, and still retained the command of the 1st Battalion. Colonel C.
Baring remained in command of the 2nd Battalion until the 13th of
August, 1872, when, retiring on half-pay, he was succeeded by Colonel
Goodlake, V.C.
In the Brigade, Lord Frederick Paulet, C.B., was succeeded by Major-
General Hon. J. Lindsay (January 29, 1867), and during the period of
his command the Guards Institute, near Vauxhall Bridge Road, was
opened by H.R.H. the Duke of Cambridge, July 11, 1867, as “a
convenient place of refreshment, resort, amusement, and occupation
for Non-commissioned officers and men stationed in London.” This club
only flourished a few years, and was closed in 1872, when the building
was bought by Cardinal Manning, and was converted by him into the
present residence of the Archbishop of Westminster. General Lindsay
also promoted a military industrial exhibition, which took place in
Chelsea barracks on the 9th of July, 1868; but on that date Major-
General Hamilton, C.B., had already succeeded him in the command of
the Brigade, having assumed it on the 1st of April. The latter, promoted
Lieutenant-General, left, April 1, 1870, and Major-General, H.S.H. Prince
Edward of Saxe-Weimar, C.B., was then appointed in his place.
Of changes in the uniform of the Regiment, the following may be
noted: On the 6th of December, 1859, it was ordered that the chin-
straps of the bearskins were to be worn under and not on the chin; but
this method, apparently, was not long maintained in force. A mess
dress was authorized for the Officers of the Brigade, January 30, 1864.
Silver stars on the forage cap, and sling belts were to be worn by the
Sergeant-Major, Quartermaster-Sergeant, Bandmaster, Sergeant-
Instructor of Musketry, Drum-Major, Band-Sergeant, Drill Sergeants,
Regimental Orderly Room Clerk, Assistant Regimental Clerk, Battalion
Orderly Room Clerk, Hospital-Sergeant, Armourer-Sergeant, Master-
Tailor, and the Sergeant of Cooks, April 25, 1870. Lastly, on the 28th of
June, 1872, gold cords on the shoulders of the Officers' tunics were
substituted for the red silk cord which was worn on one side to secure
the sash.
A Regimental Order, dated April 18, 1871, possesses an interest to
the Coldstream, which requires a place in this account of their services:
—
J. Birch.
Surgeon-Major C. V. Cay.
J. Trotter
N. R. Wilkinson del. A.D. Innes & Co. London. Mintern Bros. Chromo.
365. Brigade Order , August 20, 1856: “H.R.H. the General Commanding-in-
Chief appoints Captain Instructors of Musketry, Brevet-Major Thesiger, 3rd
Grenadier Guards; Major Le Couteur, 1st Coldstream; and Capt. Hon. R. Mostyn,
2nd Scots Fusilier Guards.” But it was not until the 30th of April, 1857, that
regular Instructors of Musketry appeared in the Army-list in the Coldstream, when
Captain Blackett and Major Conolly, V.C., were appointed in that capacity, in the
1st and 2nd Battalions respectively.
February 7, 1857. “The Major-General has much pleasure in promulgating the
following, received from the Adjutant-General, dated Horse Guards, February 4,
1857: 'The General Commanding-in-Chief, having received a most satisfactory
report of the result of the various practices in shooting and judging distances by
the parties lately attached to the school of musketry, by which it appears that
they have, in the aggregate, attained a higher figure (38·98) than any batch of
parties hitherto under instruction at Hythe, I have it in command to request your
Lordship will make known to the Division of Foot Guards the satisfaction with
which the said report has been received by His Royal Highness.'”
366. The reader may perhaps be interested in knowing that one of the first
orders given by the Duke of Cambridge on succeeding to the supreme command
of the army related to marches. Brigade Order , November 17, 1856: “In
compliance with instructions received from His Royal Highness, Commanding
Officers will march out their Battalions at least once a week, in complete
marching order, not less than eight to ten miles; the system prescribed in General
Craufurd’s regulations for conducting a march to be adhered to.” His Royal
Highness had at Scutari, in 1854, when in command of the First Division, drawn
the attention of the latter to these regulations. It must not, however, be supposed
that marching in peace time was unknown before 1856. For instance, by
Regimental Order, dated September 12, 1838, it was laid down, “Whenever
weather permits, the Battalion” (i.e. the 1st Battalion; the 2nd was then in
Canada) “is to be marched once in four days.”
369. The new wing of Wellington barracks was ready for occupation about this
time; and it appears the present Kensington barracks replaced the old buildings
there, April, 1858.
370. The periods when the Coldstream were stationed in Aldershot are to be
seen in Appendix No. XV. “In compliance with the directions of H.R.H. the Senior
Colonel of the Brigade, the roster for casual home service, and for the regular
training of Battalions at Aldershot in the summer, will in future be kept separately.
The Major-General accordingly desires that the three Lieutenant-Colonels will be
so good as to confer together with a view to preparing another roster as soon as
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