Turning Vanity Fair into The Cœlestial City: England’s Legal Narratives of the Body Politic from Bunyan to Thackeray

The article addresses the different narratives that characterize English constitutional history. It first examines the mainstream narrative, i. e., the retrospective reading of the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century constitutional events dispensed by jurists and politicians in an attempt to pack the Establishment Constitution. It then focuses on the alternative legal narratives about the Constitution elaborated during the Civil War and the Restoration. Among them, it ascertains John Bunyan’s impact on the Establishment Constitution. Bunyan was a member of the New Model Army, a radical, and a Puritan who ended up in prison. Despite this background, he exerted a strong influence on Victorian society and on Thackeray’s representation of the body politic. As a consequence, Bunyan entered the political discourse in the first half of the nineteenth century when politicians started to reform English representative institutions, and therefore became part of the Establishment Constitution.

Shakespeare’s Commonwealth

This chapter examines the existence in England from the thirteenth century of the political ideal of ‘commonwealth’: the overarching principle, dominating the political thought of commoners, that the constitutional legitimacy of any government lay not in heredity or a mystic theology of authority but in its consultation with subjects and pursuit of the well-being of the entire people. Numerous medieval rebellions had risen with ‘the commonweal’ as their rallying cry, and Kett’s rebels of 1549 were likewise termed ‘commonwealths’. In Tudor England, ‘commonwealth’ was consequently a term coloured by subversive connotation, yet pervasive in political discourse as an honorific concept. The chapter shows this ambivalence to inhere in Shakespeare’s engagements with the word. Yet no one did more, it claims, in the generations before the English Revolution, to publicize this basic, yet too often ignored tenet of English constitutional history.

A Prospectus for a “New” Constitutional History of Early Modern England

The study of English constitutional history has fallen on hard times. Once an intellectually thriving field, constitutional history now conjures up visions of bad tweed and bow ties coupled with dryly-legalistic discussions of statutes, charters, parliamentary debates, Year Books, and legal reports. Indeed, whether Whig, Neo-Whig, Revisionist, or Post-Revisionist in orientation, constitutional history has traditionally concerned itself with the “activity of government”; it has emphasized the formal structures of government, their historical origins, their changing composition, their evolving roles, and functions. These formal structures, the Crown, Parliament, the Council, the established church, and the law courts, together constituted the sinews of government. Constitutional controversy arose when the respective roles and functions of these formal structures came into conflict. Accordingly, constitutional historians became experts on the anatomy and development of the particular organs of government and their changing roles yet they were often unable to see the broader conceptual forest in which they were standing. As a result, some critics have lampooned constitutional history and its leading proponents as lacking theoretical engagement and being overly preoccupied with the minutiae of government at the expense of conceptual sophistication and breadth of vision.

History and Historical Criticism: Recent Work of Richardson and Sayles

The collaboration of Richardson and Sayles in the investigation of early English parliamentary history has long been justly celebrated. A full generation has passed since the publication of the first of those studies of theirs which have done so much to widen and deepen knowledge about medieval parliaments and have made their names, usually coupled, household words with students of medieval English constitutional history. The authors were influenced, no doubt, by some earlier historians, and the statement that they built on foundations laid by Maitland and McIlwain is not incorrect. In the volume, however, which is here under special consideration, The Governance of Mediaeval England from the Conquest to Magna Carta, they do not undertake, qua historians as distinguished from historical critics, to come this side of the reign of King John, when parliaments had not as yet assumed their later form and functions.IWhy, it seems not inappropriate to ask, was this latest joint product of their historical activities written; to what class or classes of readers was it particularly addressed? It was evidently not designed as a manual of the type that students of English constitutional history have long been familiar with; for one thing, its chronological scope is limited to about two centuries, from c. 1000 to 1215; and much of the book would be unintelligible to beginning students of the subject. An apologia, which serves as a Preface, and a preliminary chapter suggest answers to the questions that have just been asked.

The Administration of Hindu Law by the British

The British nation is proud of having administered justice to oriental peoples with impartiality and integrity, conscious of the Roman example. These qualities were thought to have been lacking before the British period, and to the extent to which British standards are respected since British rule ceased that heritage is usually considered a ground for pride. Anthropologists have raised, indeed, some doubts. These would have astonished those who introduced British techniques during the critical periods. To them it was self-evident that the strides made in English constitutional history, for example that towards the “Rule of Law”, should redound to the advantage of dependent peoples; it was unthinkable that Britons should communicate less than they themselves had acquired. That they might be doing “harm“ thereby never occurred to them; and indeed it is far from established that they did. It is possible now, however, to take an objective view, and, without passing premature judgments, to observe closely what happened in a country where the process was uniquely difficult: and to see the immediate results of the process.