History of the English People, Volume VII The Revolution, 1683-1760; Modern England, 1760-1767 — Reading Notes
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England had hindered any general knowledge of his designs. His first words on his accession, his promise to "preserve this Government both in Church and State as it is now by law established," were welcomed by the whole country with enthusiasm. All the suspicions of a Catholic sovereign seemed to have disappeared. "We have the word of a King!" ran the general cry, "and of a King who was never worse than his word." The conviction of his brother's faithlessness in fact stood James in good stead. He was looked upon as narrow, impetuous, stubborn, and despotic in heart, but even his enemies did not accuse him of being false. Above all, incredible as such a belief may seem now, he was believed to be keenly alive to the honour of his country and resolute to free it from foreign dependence.
[Sidenote: James and Parliament.]
From the first indeed there were indications that James understood his declaration in a different sense from the nation. He was resolved to make no disguise of his own religion; the chapel in which he had hitherto worshipped with closed doors was now thrown open and the king seen at Mass. He regarded attacks on his faith as attacks on himself, and at once called on the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London to hinder all preaching against Catholicism as a part of their "duty" to their king. He made no secret of his resolve to procure freedom of worship for his co-religionists while still refusing it to the rest of the Nonconformists, whom he hated as republicans and Exclusionists. All was passed over however in the general confidence. It was necessary to summon a Parliament, for the royal revenue ceased with the death of Charles; but the elections, swayed at once by the tide of loyalty and by the command of the boroughs which the surrender of their charters had given to the Crown, sent up in May a House of Commons in which James found few members who were not to his mind. His appointment indeed of Catholic officers in the army was already exciting murmurs; but these were hushed as James repeated his pledge of maintaining the established order both in Church and State. The question of religious security was waived at a hint of the royal displeasure, and a revenue of nearly two millions was granted to the king for life.
[Sidenote: Argyle's Rising.]
All that was wanted to rouse the loyalty of the country into fanaticism was supplied by a rebellion in the North, and by another under Monmouth in the West. The hopes of Scotch freedom had clung ever since the Restoration to the house of Argyle. The great Marquis indeed had been brought to the block at the king's return. His son, the Earl of Argyle, had been unable to save himself even by a life of singular caution and obedience from the ill-will of the vile politicians who governed Scotland. He was at last convicted of treason in 1682 on grounds at which every English statesman stood aghast. "We should not hang a dog here," Halifax protested, "on the grounds on which my Lord Argyle has been sentenced to death." The Earl escaped however to Holland, and lived peaceably there during the last six years of the reign of Charles. Monmouth had found the same refuge at the Hague, where a belief in the king's love and purpose to recall him secured him a kindly reception from William of Orange. But the accession of James was a death-blow to the hopes of the Duke, while it stirred the fanaticism of Argyle to a resolve of wresting Scotland from the rule of a Catholic king. The two leaders determined to appear in arms in England and the North, and the two expeditions sailed within a few days of each other. Argyle's attempt was soon over. His clan of the Campbells rose on the Earl's landing in Cantyre, but the country had been occupied for the king, and quarrels among the exiles who accompanied him robbed his effort of every chance of success. His force scattered without a fight; and Argyle, arrested in an attempt to escape, was hurried on the 30th of June to a traitor's death.
[Sidenote: Monmouth's Rising.]
John Richard Green opens Volume VII with a stark tableau: the constitutional opposition crushed in 1683, crowds dipping handkerchiefs in Russell's blood while Oxford declares passive obedience a religious duty. This juxtaposition of martyrdom and doctrine sets the tone for a narrative that tracks power through precise institutional shifts rather than royal spectacle. Green's prose moves between the cool calculation of Charles II—who 'suspended no statute' while advancing despotism—and the blunt mechanics of Whig control under the first two Georges.
The King's Triumph and Its Limits
Green's account of 1683 emphasizes Charles II's restraint: he 'suspended no statute' and 'imposed no tax by Royal authority,' yet moved 'coolly and resolutely forward on the path of despotism.' The author contrasts the king's caution with the 'mad outburst of loyalty' from Oxford, which declared passive obedience a religious tenet. But Charles faced obstacles: Ormond and the Tories remained 'steady for parliamentary and legal government,' and bishops blocked a renewal of the Indulgence. Green's diction—'duped,' 'suffered to remain in office but left without any influence'—strips statesmen of agency, framing Halifax's failure as a pattern of political disillusionment.
Whig Machinery and the Hanoverian Settlement
Green dissects the Whig ascendancy after 1714 with clinical precision. The first two Hanoverians 'believed they owed their throne to the Whigs,' and the Crown's 'indirect influence' grew more powerful because the Revolution had ended fears of prerogative overreach. Lord Cowper's remark—that the king could 'give which party you please a clear majority'—is quoted to illustrate the mechanics of patronage. Green then enumerates the Whig party's tools: 'excellent organization,' submission to 'a knot of great nobles,' and lavish spending on 'small and corrupt constituencies.' The passage on bribery is blunt: 'Corruption was older than Walpole.'
The Language of Power and Resistance
Green's vocabulary reveals his analytical stance. He uses 'spectre' for republicanism haunting the Stuarts, 'duped' for statesmen, and 'crushed' for opposition. The crowd's handkerchiefs 'dipping in blood' and Oxford's 'solemn declaration' are set against Charles's 'cool' moves. The Whigs 'stood as one man' while Tories were 'divided by differences of principle.' Such contrasts—martyr versus doctrine, cool calculation versus mad loyalty—structure the narrative without overt judgment. Green's authorial voice is that of a historian parsing power through its visible effects: statutes, taxes, party discipline, and the 'secrecy' of parliamentary votes.
Structure and Scope: From Revolution to Empire
The volume's architecture mirrors its thematic shift. Book VIII, 'The Revolution, 1683-1760,' covers the fall of the Stuarts and the House of Hanover's consolidation. Book IX, 'Modern England, 1760-1815,' begins with 'England and its Empire, 1760-1767.' The excerpts show Green moving from domestic constitutional struggle to imperial questions, though the latter section is not excerpted. His method remains consistent: tracing how power transfers from Crown to Parliament to party, with attention to legal forms and informal influence. The narrative is dense with proper names—Hyde, Cowper, Bentinck, Manners—but Green subordinates individuals to institutional forces.
Readers approaching this volume should attend to Green's deliberate word choices—'coolly,' 'resolutely,' 'duped'—which carry analytical weight. His narrative does not dramatize battles or personalities but traces the ligaments of power: statutes left unbroken, taxes unlevied, majorities manufactured. The excerpts suggest a historian more interested in how systems persist than in how they are overthrown. For those seeking the texture of eighteenth-century governance, Green offers a precise, unsentimental anatomy.
Reading Green’s account of soldiers and shifting loyalties, I found myself thinking of the quiet rhythms in History of Company K. 1st (Inft,) Penn'a Reserves — Context and Discussion. Both trace ordinary men caught in large events, their daily choices echoing across years. It felt like revisiting an old photograph—faces I almost recognize, stories left half-told. History of Company K. 1st (Inft,) Penn'a Reserves — Context and Discussion holds that same patient, unhurried weight.
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