Late medieval English historians have recently become quite interested in the gentry, and particularly in magnate-gentry relationships. The ubiquity of indentures of retainer in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries is evidence that the outward form of these relationships was changing; the question is, do they also indicate a change in the nature and purpose of such relationships? And if so, then why? G. L. Harriss, for example, has argued that the fifteenth-century bastard feudal affinity was

an attempt by the traditional leaders of society—crown and nobility—to contain the increasingly diversifying armigerous class within the old traditions of lordship and chivalry… (This) solution disintegrated not under any attack from the crown but as cumulative wealth and access to political authority gave the broad class of landowners independence from the nobility as mediators of patronage and power.

This theme of gentry ‘independence’ from the nobility was also taken up by Christine Carpenter, who suggested that forceful monarchical government in the shires could only be achieved once ‘the gentry who administered the shires could be separated from the nobility’—and this, she speculated, may have occurred as a result of the wars of the roses.

Queen Victoria wrote in a famous letter to her grandson William II, on June 12th 1899: “I never personally attacked or complained of Prince Bismarck, though I knew well what a bitter enemy he was to England and all the harm he did.” Why did Queen Victoria call Bismarck “a bitter enemy to England”? Obviously her remark was meant in a purely political sense. It was well known, as well to Queen Victoria as to anyone else in that period, that Prince Bismarck had a strong personal liking for England. He had known English and indeed had spoken the language well as a youth, not as well as he spoke French later on, but we have it from reliable witnesses that he was quite able to express himself fluently. There were times when he would hesitate, and instead of the ordinary word would find a most original and telling phrase. Lord Goschen, too, has borne witness to “his racy style of speech.” Until he reached old age Bismarck displayed an astonishing intimacy with Shakespeare and was very fond of Walter Scott.

Recent historical investigations tend to push the fundamental causes of the American Revolution farther and farther back into the eighteenth century. It is, therefore, passing strange that the significance of the Canadian expeditions of the first decade of that century should have been neglected. These projects played an important rôle in bringing about a friendly co-operation between the continental colonies and the mother-country; they were no unimportant part of the military and naval phases of the war of the Spanish Succession; and they raised in a pointed way the whole question of sea power. In addition, the expeditions were used as pawns by the English in the diplomatic game, which eventually culminated in the treaty of Utrecht; they showed in a clear way the entire problem of imperial defence, as well as some of the tendencies in British and French imperialism in the early eighteenth century. Furthermore, such attempts at co-operation between colonists and mother-country revealed the superlative importance attached to colonial commerce by each of them, and helped create that most vexatious question of colonial paper money. Such a joint expedition against the French in North America was not only a contest between Whigs and Tories in England, but it finally became a struggle between the two great Tory rivals of the reign of Queen Anne.

In calling the attention of the fellows to some of the leading points in the history of one of the most remarkable confederations which the world has ever seen, and in endeavouring to arrange these into an harmonious and intelligent narrative, I feel that I owe no apology, except at least to the extent to which my labours may be found deficient or defective: for it is in the direction of such original inquiries as the present that our Society may perform its more useful offices. England played a most prominent part in the history of the Hanseatic League; but in this regard has found heretofore no historian, while Germany has several. Hence the present attempt, the results of which, gathered from many sources, are presented without further preface.

The purpose of the coming Discussion may be gathered from the Card of Session and the Notices of the Meeting.

This is an age of academic Conferences and Discussions whereby we may hope to keep in touch with one another and with other historical organisations, in this country and abroad.

What angler has not been, if he be not still, a reader of Izaak Walton? And what reader of Izaak Walton has not observed his frequent quotations from Dubravius, and been amused by that wonderful account of the victory of a frog over a pike, of which Dubravius declares he was himself an eye-witness, but which reads far more like a dream than a reality? And the name of this same Dubravius has lately been brought before the public by Mr. Frank Buckland, as that of the author of an excellent recommendation in the management of fish-ponds, a means of producing food so sadly neglected in this country, viz.: to draw off the water every third or fourth year and sow a crop of oats on the rich mud collected at the bottom. It may not therefore be uninteresting, if I give a brief account of the life and writings of Dubravius, who was a man of considerable mark in his day in the political and ecclesiastical, as well as in the pisci-cultural world.

The audience which assembles in this room on occasions similar to the present is, most frequently, I suppose, addressed with reference to some section or phase of the subject-matter of history. As a rule, results of historical study and investigation, whether it be of a period or of a particular series of events, or of the policy or character of some statesman or famous person, or of some political movement, or the like, are laid before you. This afternoon your attention is asked while I endeavour to speak on something different, having to do with the subject-matter of history undoubtedly, but rather from the outside than the inside. I am to speak, that is to say, of certain machinery by the operation of which the crude material or pabulum of the historical student and investigator is brought to ‘market overt,’ there to be bought, I may add in passing, at a ridiculously cheap price, being sold, as all the world may note, according to a strictly mechanical method of appreciation, at the price, namely, of about threepence for each section of 64 octavo pages. This generous dealing with the public is due to a resolution of the House of Commons, passed, I am informed, about the year 1832, the members at that time being persuaded that their constituents were thirsting to purchase Blue-books if only their means permitted, and bemg greatly concerned therefore that a sufficient number of copies of all parliamentary papers should be printed so as to allow this eager desire for this form of literature to be gratified at the cheapest possible rate. And I may explain, once for all, that the Reports of the Historical Manuscripts Commission are, in form, nothing more nor less than sessional papers, which it is the privilege of members of both Houses of Parliament to receive gratuitously in ever-abounding quantities.

You have honoured with your presidency this year not a leisured man, who is capable of making a serene survey of all historical work done during the last twelve months, but a very busy Government servant, whose duties keep him tight to desks (three separate desks!) in Whitehall from 10.30 a.m. to 8 p.m. on most days of the week, and who must confess to you with all frankness that he has read little historical literature during the past year, save the single volume of Magna Charta Essays, Which is this Society's most important contribution in the fields of research for 1918. Your President, therefore, feels some diffidence on coming before you to-day with an annual address, when he remembers that the last of the series was delivered in February 1917 by a master of research and expression, a great teacher, and a trainer of other teachers, who possesses such a command of a long period of English History as does no other man living, and whom every member of the Society respects and reveres as the unquestioned lord of his own domain. His enthusiasm for the systematic gathering of knowledge, and his power of orderly marshalling of the essential facts, makes his successor feel a proper humility as he takes over the chair that has been so efficiently filled during the last three years.

In the seventh volume of his “History of Scotland,” pp. 365–6, Dr. John Hill Burton, Historiographer Royal, writes thus:—

“In baronial architecture and dwelling-houses there was a great advance between the Reformation and the Restoration. The French style of tall round towers or turrets with conical tops prevailed. In some instances the old square tower was surmounted with turrets and other decorations, and many dwellings were wholly built in the style of Chantilly and other great French châteaus. Of these there are a few fine specimens in Winton, Pinkie, Glammis, Fyvie, Castle Fraser, Craigievar, and Crathes. Heriot's Hospital is a curious modification of this style. It was designed by Sir Robert Aytoun, the poet, who evidently appears to have sought to bring the rambling picturesque character ef the French style into a rigid symmetry, like that which prevails in the classical styles. It may be said that the little corner turrets did not belong to his original plan. In this the towers were to be carried up into high abruptly shapen pavilion roofs, after the French fashion, as exemplified in the Tuileries. These petty turrets depart essentially from the rule that some useful end should be the object of all building—they are too small to serve as flanking works, or to be in any way of service to the main building.”

All legislation is to some extent the product of circumstance, and none more so than the numerous Acts which have from time to time augmented or reduced the law governing high treason. The basis of that law has been since 1352 the famous Act of 25 Edward III, stat. 5, c. 2, and this Act itself was moulded by the circumstances under which it was passed. Edward III was at the height of his power and popularity, so that in defining treason it was only necessary to include offences likely to be committed against a popular king reigning by an undisputed title. This accounts both for what the Act contains and what it omits, and is the reason for that sufficiency in quiet times which has preserved it for over five centuries. It accounts also for its inadequacy in crises and disturbances, and the need to supplement it under such kings as Richard II and Henry VIII. New treasons are thus emergency measures to enable the Government to cope with particular situations; when the troublous times are over, they and the offences with which they deal disappear naturally with the circumstances which provoked them, and the Act of 1352 once more reigns supreme. When considering the causes of its long life, it must be remembered that Treason Acts fall into two classes: those augmenting and those diminishing the scope of the offence. The Act of 1352 belongs to the latter class. It was passed to bridle the judges in the creation of constructive treasons—a process which had alarmed Parliament—and, unlike all other Acts of its class, it did not follow a revolution or period of crisis, as the Act of I Henry IV, c. 10, followed the reign of Richard II; 1 Edward VI, c. 12, that of Henry VIII; and 1 Mary, c. I, that of Edward VI.

Recent quantitative studies of the Atlantic slave trade tend to marginalise the voices of the enslaved and transported Africans who were its victims, but some sense of their experience is provided by surviving narratives by African-born ex-slaves. This essay draws attention to a neglected example of such narratives, the biography (published in the USA, 1854) of Mahommah Gardo Baquaqua, from Djougou (in modern Bénin), who was enslaved and exported to Brazil in 1845. It explores some of the problems of interpretation raised by this text, especially the relationship between Baquaqua's Muslim upbringing and his conversion to Christianity in the Diaspora.

In drawing your attention to an intrigue to deprive the Earl of Essex of the Lord Lieutenancy of Ireland it may perhaps be worth while to say a few words about the dignity and emoluments of that office. At the period of which we are treating, the Lord Lieutenancy of Ireland was regarded without question as the most exalted position which an English subject could obtain out of England. In England itself there was only one post, the Lord Treasurership, which surpassed it, and it may be questioned whether the sword of the Lord Lieutenant did not confer more power than the staff of the Lord Treasurer. The Lord Lieutenant directly represented the Crown in a land which, for centuries, no English monarch had visited. He had his Court, his guards; he was head of all the military force in the country. Lord Halifax, on one occasion, expressed disinclination for the post, because ‘he did not love,’ he said, ‘a new scene, nor to dine with a sound of trumpet and 36 dishes of meat on his table.’

I feel somewhat diffident in venturing to read a paper on the subject of the work of the great historian, on whose writings the President of the Royal Historical Society is the leading modern authority. His new edition of Macaulay's ‘History’ is a work that has been welcomed by all historical students, and the wealth of the illustrations corresponds with the richness of the style of which the historian was a past master. No one can study the ‘History’ without experiencing the pleasure of reading the graceful, flowing, well-balanced sentences, the pure English, the rhythm of each phrase, and of noting the graphic power of description and characterisation. It may be that the more exact historians of our own day, whose facts are supported by numerous references to authorities and documents, who never give the rein to their imaginations, take too little trouble to clothe their bare statements with suitable adornment, and cultivate a bald, tedious and cumbersome style depressing to the reader, might learn a lesson from the elder school of which Lord Macaulay was so bright an example.

Arestles spirit of wandering drove the ancient Irish away to farthest lands, from Iceland and Norway to Spain, Southern Italy, Constantinople and Jerusalem. They became of some importance as regards the kingdom of the Franks, and the parts adjacent. Unhappily, however, these thousands and thousands of men made no note of their doings, and in Irish annals they have left no, or but little, trace behind them; we are, therefore, forced to piece them together in laborious mosaic-work out of chance Continental traditions.

There are certain moments in history when major events, individual experience, and ideology coincide to such a remarkable extent that historians have to pause and look up from their patient plotting of the vagaries of humanity. One such moment was the summer of 1940 in France.

The reigns of the last two Stuart kings are coloured by the fact that Charles II did not inherit his throne but was restored to it. During the first seven years of the Restoration era a second attempt to overthrow the monarchy naturally seemed possible to Royalists, whose memories of the discomforts of exile were still green. Hence a special organization to watch the movements of malcontents and report on their activities, developed under the control of the Secretaries of State. Contemporary State Papers offer abundant evidence to prove that much of the time of Nicholas and his successors was consumed in dealing with information, poured in by spies stationed in almost every English county, and in those parts of Europe and the New World where regicides and others had taken refuge.

A few years ago I commented in an article on the European catastrophe of 1870, viewed in the long perspective of relations between the French and the Germans down to that date. My present lecture embodies a comment on the international consequences of 1870 during the twenty years which followed it. I hope in time to come to pursue the theme of Franco-German relations further down the slope of time, as far as the end of the Second World War.

But little is yet known of the vast mass of documents bearing upon nineteenth-century history which are to be found in the archives of Europe; and historians have been tempted to take refuge in the thought that, after all, these papers contain little that is really of great value. How far that is true for any period of the nineteenth century may, I think, be doubted; but for the period during which Castlereagh held office, it can, surely, be urged that the unpublished documents in the Record Office are of real importance. Singularly, little attention has been paid by English historians to this period of history, and but little use has as yet been made of unpublished material. It is true that the collections of papers in the Londonderry correspondence and the Wellington Supplementary Dispatches contain a vast amount of information; but, valuable as this is, it is only a small fragment of the whole, and much of it can only be interpreted by the aid of other evidence. What has already been done in this way has thrown much new light on the character and achievements of Castlereagh. Fyffe was able to appreciate his career and his connexion with the congress system with much more justice, because he had seen some of the documents of the years 1814–15; and Mr. Alison Phillipps' monographs in the ‘Cambridge Modern History’ have already destroyed many of the fictions which had masqueraded as facts during the century. But as yet no detailed study of this period, based upon the archives, has appeared. Castlereagh's career has attracted but little attention and sympathy. There is no detailed account in English of the congress of Vienna, still less of the later congresses of Aix-la-Chapelle, Troppau, and Laibach. Yet, even if it be not admitted that Castlereagh was himself a great statesman, the circumstances of his life make the policy of England during his period of office well worthy of particular attention. From 1814 to 1822 England was connected with the Continent by ties far stronger than any which have bound her before or since. Not merely was she bound by treaties of exceptional character, but her leading statesman had exceptional personal relations with those of the other powers during a period which has never been surpassed in the invention of new methods of diplomacy, and the solution of difficult problems of immense importance. In these questions Castlereagh took a leading, at times a dominant, part. He was the creator of the great treaty which made it certain that Napoleon would no longer rule over France; he was the decisive factor at the Congress of Vienna, for it was he alone who made England take so commanding a position in the critical questions of Poland and Saxony; and he had perhaps a greater share than any other statesman in securing that period of comparative peace for Europe which was the first necessity of its future progress.