László
Kontler
Historians
from the Periphery
William Robertson
and Mihály Horváth
...
Fletcher's spirit never ceased to haunt the Scottish Enlightenment: even such
a quintessential "modern" as Adam Smith owed a debt to the civic tradition.10
But the Scottish Enlightenment became what it was because its key theorists - whatever
differences separated some of them from others - asked Fletcher's question the
other way round. Since commerce, empire and what they amount to - that is, modernity - could
no longer be ignored, were there foundations other than that hitherto known
upon which virtue could be based? The limitation of the nation's sovereignty
and the influences and challenges to which archaic Scottish society was exposed - and,
even more, was expected to be exposed to quite soon - in the early eighteenth
century required a revision of the traditional teaching on public virtue.
Under the given circumstances it was imprudent and insufficient to insist
on the republican ethos based on the historical ideals of the ancient citizen
and the Gothic freeholder, while the differentiated world of commercial society
opened alternative paths of asserting one's virtue, no longer confined to
the strictly political sphere. The accents of the discourse in the new system
of values facilitated an interference between expressions whose roots were
actually or supposedly common: they create the impression that "polite" or
"polished" conduct might at the same time be "political" - i.e., related to
the art of the polis - , or that "civilised" has much in common with "civil".
For these potentials to be fulfilled, societies only need to rise to a level
of development where opportunities for "commerce" - the exchange of commodities
as well as ideas and sentiments, trade as well as conversation - are plentiful.
By giving a spur to men's instinctive sociability, frequent intercourse will
stimulate the growth of moderation, mutual respect and tolerance, criticism
and self-criticism. These virtues, even if not asserting themselves on a directly
political level, might do so in a circuitous way. While negotiating a business
deal, or discussing subjects of the most diverse nature in coffee houses,
inns, clubs, assembly rooms or private company, parties to the conversation
are necessarily compelled to observe each other's viewpoints and assess their
own from the position of the "impartial spectator". The "invisible hand" (to
employ two compounds so obviously associated with Smith's name) would thus
ensure that private gain - a better bargain, greater renown, or simply the
satisfaction of one's self-complacency - is not antithetical to the common good,
thereby also promoted just as through casting votes in a popular assembly
of the citizens of a city state. When enlightened self-interest has in the
process taught people to restrain their self-love, laws can be implemented
and institutions can be created which would formalise such restraints. In
due course after the growth of commerce, the rise of cities and the polishing
of urban manners had become obvious,
statutes and regulations multiplied of course, and all
became sensible that their common safety depended on observing them with
precision [...] [o]rder and good government, and along with them the liberty
and security of the individuals, were, in this manner, established in cities
as William Robertson tells us in A View of the Progress of
Society in Europe, the voluminous preface to his History of Charles V (1769).
Besides Charles V, Robertson's major histories include the History of Scotland
(1759), the History of America (1777) and An Historical Disquisition of the
Knowledge which the Ancients had of India (1791). These are works by an establishment
man: the Principal of the University of Edinburgh, a dominant figure in the
General Assembly of the Kirk and a "historiographer royal", a national historian
who has also been described as the quintessential eighteenth-century cosmopolitan
historian; the works of a master of historical narrative employing stadial
history to provide an interpretative framework.12 He turned this framework
to completing the erosion of a mode of patriotism that rested on the legend
of the ancient Scottish constitution, whose special virtues were rooted in
a unique Gaelic legacy heroically preserved against tyrants within the country
and foreign invaders by a valiant and public-spirited nobility.
This interpretation of the Scottish past, most notably present in the humanist
George Buchanan's Rerum Scoticarum historia (1582), had already been challenged
from at least two corners for over half a century before Robertson.13 Fletcher
ridiculed the idea that the nobility had been disinterested guardians of Scottish
liberty, although he retained the notion of liberty as freedom to take an
active part in national affairs, and the view that "no monarchy in Europe
was more limited, nor any people more jealous of liberty than the Scots."14
There was also another trend, of royalist inspiration, which suggested that
as freedom is incompatible with the lawlessness that generally prevailed in
the country,
actual liberty was a stranger here ... our Scottish heroes
of old savour a little of the Poles at present: they fought for liberty
and independency, not to their country, but to the crown and the grandees.
The historical basis of the alleged two-thousand-year-old
ius regni was also undermined.15 Such trends were all helpful in working out
the historical foundations of an anti-aristocratic and civic patriotism in
an atmosphere generally critical of the Scottish past, as encapsulated in
Alexander Wedderburn's Preface to the Edinburgh Review of 1755 - 6 (an initiative
whose aim was to improve Scottish letters, and in which Robertson was also
active):
The memory of our ancient state is not so much obliterated,
but that, by comparing the past with the present, we may clearly see the
superior advantages we now enjoy, and readily discern from what sources
they flow
- meaning the Union and its consequences.
In most of his output as a historian Robertson focused on the period which
he considered crucial from the point of view of his vision of the history
of the western world as the unfolding of the great plan of Providence, a gradually
increasing accessibility of divine revelation, made possible by the improvement
of the means of subsistence and the consequent refinement of manners and enlightenment
of the human mind. This period was the sixteenth century, which saw a crisis
in that process (in the sense in which the term had been used in the modern
historiography of the early-modern period, i.e., both as a halt and as
a catalyst). In his History of Scotland, Robertson sought to show how and
why Scotland, although already making its appearance on the horizon of European
history by the sixteenth century, did not share in developments that were
taking place elsewhere, such as the curtailing of feudalism, which in Scotland
was in effect postponed until the constitutional Union of 1707 with England.
By doing so, he attempted to refocus Scottish historiography: he endeavoured
to place Scotland on the map of Europe by providing a pattern for the study
of national history in the context of the continent-wide development of economies,
societies and polities.
True, Robertson did pay tribute to the robust traditions of independence and
martial vigour that so heavily imprinted themselves on the history of Scotland.
He was also as willing as Fletcher to explore these themes by using the classical
vocabulary of virtue, and in a "mood of carefully contained nostalgia".17
But he left no doubt that these aspects of the Scottish past were inseparable
from the "aristocratical genius of the feudal government"18 which, because
of a few peculiar properties of the country and its inhabitants, was accentuated
in the case of Scotland: the lairds acknowledged no master, foreign or domestic,
nor did they recognise legal constraints, exercising an oppressive tyranny
over their inferiors.
In rude ages, when the science of government was extremely
imperfect, among a martial people, unacquainted with the arts of peace,
strangers to the talents which make a figure in debate, and despising them,
Parliaments were not held in the same estimation as at present; nor did
haughty Barons love those courts, in which they appeared with such evident
marks of inferiority.
And Scotland, alas, seemed to have been marked by the longevity
of these structures:
Many years after the declension of the feudal system in
the other kingdoms of Europe, ... the foundations of the ancient fabric
remained, in a great measure, firm and untouched in Scotland.
Not in the least because of these considerations, for Robertson
the economic benefits of the Union and the resulting social progress more
than made up for the loss of political standing; indeed the Union seemed to
him as the beginning of an authentic history of freedom in Scotland.
As the nobles were deprived of power, the people acquired
liberty. Exempted from the burdens to which they were formerly subject,
screened from oppression, to which they had been long exposed, and adopted
into a constitution, whose genius and laws were more liberal than their
own, they have extended their commerce, refined their manners, made improvements
in the elegancies of life, and cultivated the arts and sciences.
By broadening the horizon of writing Scottish history to include the progress
of manners and social structures besides political events, Robertson proposed
to supersede its shallow ancient constitutionalism and its insularity. Thoroughly
depending on a criticism of feudalism, he offered a new, enlightened patriotism - one
that has been described as Anglo-British rather than Scottish, but whose
chief pursuit was the improvement of the condition of Scotland, rather than
vainglory and partisanship.
...
In his introduction to a book on the times of George Rákóczi
II published in 1829, Imre Bethlen expressed the hope that "at last a Hungarian
Gibbon, Hume, Robertson or John Millar might be born as an ornament of this
nation." Perhaps no-one would be more suitable for the role of a Hungarian
Robertson than Horváth. Born into the petty nobility, he had a clerical education
and later became a bishop; as a historian he published books that achieved
quite remarkable sales, given the relatively narrow contemporary market. His
interests and approach as a historian display interesting similarities with
those of Robertson. Impartiality, which the Scottish historian insisted on,
in the sense of an immunity from the prejudices of the feudal past (in effect,
a strongly partial antagonism to those prejudices) was a governing principle
for Horváth, too. His first historical work, a prize-winning essay, was "A
Comparison between the Civil and Moral Culture of the Hungarian Nation Moving
into Europe, and of Europe at That Time" (1834) - the history of the manners
of a barbarous nation when confronted with those of more civilised neigbours.
This was a topic central to Robertson's View of the Progress of Society in
Europe, similarly to the subject of commerce which Horváth took up in his
next book, The History of Industry and Commerce in Hungary during the Past
Three Centuries (1840). Robertson and his fellow Scottishmen of letters were
pre-eminent in formulating a novel historical approach which shifted attention
from chronology to manners, from kings and heroes to the path taken by peoples
towards civilisation. Horváth argued that
It is a mark of inferiority in a nation to be so short
of other sources of praise and fame as to hold the antiquity and glory of
its ancestors to be its chief merit,
and sought to discover other, more essential features in
the national past. He wholeheartedly embraced the approach championed by Robertson
in his attempt to focus on "the quiet circle of popular life," and while he
acknowledged that commerce had not played a paramount role in Hungarian history,
he stressed the importance of the subject in an age that displayed a special
interest in the "material parts of life", in "popular industry and popular
happiness." In the "Comparison" Horváth's desire to criticise feudalism still
led him to a favourable portraiture of the rustic simplicity of the ancient
Hungarians, ostensibly only tempted to burst out into violence and lapse into
indolence by the riches of the West, and though professing to be in favour
of the virtuous middle, he still preferred the unlimited freedom of the Hungarians
to feudal servitude - appropriate as a counterpart of Robertson's "carefully
contained nostalgia", as described above. In his later work, however, he was
more inclined to associate the striving for, and the establishment of civil
freedom with improved morals and the growth of civilisation, occasioned by
the progress of commerce and industry (besides Christianity).
It would be tempting to suggest that in these pursuits Horváth must have drawn
some inspiration from Robertson. In the lack of consistent evidence to this
effect, it is safer to suggest that if there was any influence of this kind,
it was exercised indirectly through the great Göttingen historians of the
late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries (August Ludwig Schlözer, Ludwig
Timotheus Spittler and Arnold Ludwig Heeren) who were certainly aware of the
relevance of the Scottish Enlightenment in general and Roberston in particular
to their own work, and who, especially Heeren, had a demonstrable influence
on Horváth.46 But, as argued above, the kind or parallel I intend to draw
does not depend on reception, demonstrated clare & distincte. It rather
depends on the similarity of certain situational elements, such as, in this
case, learned inquiry into the European history of social and economic structures
in order to throw light on the national past and present, an inquiry which
also implied taking stock anew of the relationships within a composite state,
the very act of stocktaking in such terms requiring a tone and attitude of
impartiality, self-criticism and responsibility.
It is apposite to mention here that when commenting on Lajos Kossuth's protests
against the Austro-Hungarian compromise, the Ausgleich of 1867, Horváth quoted
the example of Scotland in support of his own view that when the fundamental
aims of a state are more likely to be realised in association with another
state, this is the path to be followed.47 In spite of his eventual role during
the Revolution and War of Independence of 1848 - 1849, this measured tone also
characterised Horváth's evaluations of Austro-Hungarian relations, always
discussed in the light of the development of commerce and industry in the
pre-revolutionary years; a disposition whose counterpart was a realistic asessment
of the indigeneous causes of backwardness during the key centuries of the
making of European modernity.
A history of Hungary that starts with the year 1526 cannot but begin in a
tone of gloom. "Unhappy", "lamentable", "miserable" are the adjectives that
determine the tone of the introductory passages of Horváth's History of Industry
and Commerce, but the author hastens to add that the disastrous battle at
Mohács in 1526, where the Turks wiped out the royal Hungarian army, rather
than being the root cause of misery, only sealed the fate of the country and
that the seeds of the trouble had been sown much earlier, at times when Hungary
still possessed complete mastery over her fortunes, and was apparently at
the height of her glory. The "oligarchy" that first came into being under
Sigismund of Luxemburg receives the criticism due to it;48 considerably later
we also learn that the problems were of a structural nature:
In Hungary commerce was favoured neither by the existing
constitution, nor by the legislation, which has always shown a certain apathy
and prejudice in regard to this subject.
As a result, commerce in Hungary never rose above the level
of mediocrity, and even that level was never attained
except in the age of Louis the Great, Sigismund, and Matthias,
when [Hungary] was supported by some extraordinary circumstances, and started
to assume greatness and to forge links with the commerce of the world.
The problem with the constitution was its feudal character
that not only enshrined the nobility's privileges but also fueled its prejudices
against commerce:
The merchant and his trade was not held in any respect
by public opinion, at least by the noble class; because they did not appreciate
its benefits for civil life and the happiness of the country... merchant
or usurer fraud was all the same to their minds.
Such prejudices, together with economic policies ("reasons
from economy [státusgazdasági okok]") that maintained monopolies, staple rights
and were conducive to customs abuses etc., would have prevented a flourishing
of commerce and manufactures even in the absence of the Ottoman wars. Despite
such moves as the confirmation of urban charters or the extension of the liberties
of some communities, Horváth does not fail to call attention to the responsibility
of Hungary's sixteenth and seventeenth-century Habsburg kings in neglecting
the cause of commerce and industry (which for Horváth also included agriculture),
especially in contrast to other European monarchs of the time. Nevertheless,
the whole import of his evaluation of even the centuries of the greatest adversity
is encapsulated in the closing remarks of his introductory chapter:
It will be highly edifying to observe that it was not only
political misfortune: the bitter tyranny of the barbarous Turk, and the
rage of faction; not only physical impediments: distance from the sea, the
dismal condition of trade routes by land and water etc. that were the causes
of these unhappy circumstances; but there were a great many domestic factors
to account for such conditions, partly voted in the nation itself and within
its parts of different character and interest, and partly in the constitution
and the government.
By contrast, Horváth's account of the next period (1711 - 1780)
is introduced by a highly optimistic presentation of the conditions marked
not only by the expulsion of the Ottomans but also by the failure of Rákóczi's
independence war. This is peculiar, but indicative of the author's novel conception
of patriotism. In this period the
industrious class of the people was freed of manifold harassments,
and it was no longer vain for it to seek the protection of the law in the
face of its oppressors.
Moreover, besides peace and the alleviation of lordly tyranny - i.e.,
the removal of previous impediments - positive incentives to the progress of
commerce and industry were also introduced by Charles III, (the Emperor Charles
VI) whom Horváth considers a pioneer in Hungary from this point of view. Even
though technology remain-ed underdeveloped, improvement became possible through
a resettlement policy accompanied by generous tax exemptions, through securing
the free movement of serfs and rendering them some legal protection, initiatives
that were carried forward in subsequent reigns.
One of the most conspicuous features of Horváth's book is the dispassionate
treatment of the most frequently lamented product of eighteenth-century Habsburg
economic policies, the 1754 tariffs and their consequences for Hungary under
Maria Theresa and Joseph II. He does not fail to recognise, and analyse in
detail, their adverse effects on the progress of Hungarian manufactures. At
the same time he does not harbour any doubt as to the good intentions of either
ruler, both as far as improvement in general and within Hungary in particular
is concerned (though his judgement of the government bodies in charge of the
implementation of the system is somewhat different); nor does he pretend that
the regulations stifled viable industrial initiatives. On the contrary, Hungarian
products are described by Horváth as primitive, and it is implied that any
effort at a significant advance in that field at that time might well have
turned out to be Quixotic.53 In turn, he is willing to concede that, as rulers
of a composite state, Maria Theresa and her son were obliged to think in appropriate
terms and consider the interests of the Gesamtmonarchie, instead of any of
the constituent parts - and such considerations prompted them to strengthen
existing branches of the economy in each of them.54
Almost astonishingly - one might say, carrying impartiality to the extreme - the
accommodating tone remains unchanged even in regard of the reign of Francis
I, who was far from being a favourite on either side of the Leitha.
Our government... has done more in this century than ever;
nay, it has done everything it might do in view of the relations of the
whole of the monarchy for the sake of the happiness of the same. That it
has not allowed full liberty to our commerce can less justly be ascribed
to its disposition and will than anything else. This system of relations
[of the Monarchy], conditioned by a great variety of circumstances and events
through several centuries, is much too ancient, much too deeply rooted in
the most delicate elements of the state organism, for it to be possible,
with the greatest goodwill, to change suddenly and at once without a dangerous
convulsion of the other provinces which also seek paternal care.
This, perhaps too indulgent, evaluation of the performance
of a government that tolerated, rather than encouraged, economic progress
in order to preemt too much political discontent, may also have been prompted
by the desire to emphasise domestic responsibility for bringing about a decisive
change in the country's fortunes. In Horváth's interpretation, part of the
problem lay precisely in the prevailing disposition to "expect manna to fall
from heaven".
Sufficient energy was lacking; amidst the noise of requests,
desires and demands, very little was done worthy of a nation whose bosom
was swelling with vigour!
There were merely two periods that were an exception to this
dominant attitude of the Hungarian elite. The first were the post-Josephian
years, when the commissions of the 1790/91 diet, inspired by the "spirit of
the century", busied themselves with a systematic survey of the condition
of Hungary and put together recommendations on this basis. These prepared
the ground for the second generation of responsible reformers which appeared
on the stage in 1825 and which, Horváth hoped, would "erase the ignominious
stigma of centuries-old languish from its forehead."
László Kontler
formerly taught at Kossuth Lajos University, Debrecen and at Rutgers University,
New Jersey; he is currently chair of the History Department at Central European
University, and also teaches at Eötvös Loránd University (both in Budapest).
His main field of interest is early modern European intellectual history.
He is the author of Millennium in Central Europe. A History of Hungary (1999).
