4 SEPTEMBER 1964, Page 26

Namier's Maverick

Charles Towashend. By Sir Lewis Namier and John Brooke. (Macmillan, 35s.) SOMETHING in the make-up of Sir Lewis Namier gave a definite character not only to his histori-

cal writing but also to his historical interests, determining the topics that would really grip him. In his later years, he surrendered the better part of his mind to a human being and a human problem; for he came under the fascination of that remarkable politician, Charles Townshend.

If one was in conversation with him, this was the subject that strangely stirred him; it seemed to bring the boiler all at once to high pressure.

Nobody would expect that a biographical com-

pendium like the recent History of Parliament would show much sign of personal predilection or

idiosyncrasy; but the spacious treatment of Town- shend and the close attention paid to his asso- biates—almost all the relevant articles being over Namier's own initials--must stand as one of the interesting features of that work. If one includes the Leslie Stephen Lecture in Cambridge, the present biography represents the third attack on the subject within a few years.

One can see why the topic itself, and the historical problems associated with it, should have exercised this extraordinary fascination. For one thing, there is a remarkable correspondence of the young Charles Townshend with his father which, in its perverted ingenuity, is like a fore- cast or rehearsal of the letters written later to leading politicians, so that the mind of the his- torian cannot help running between the two and seeing the way in which the pattern repeats itself. Furthermore, we have here the spectacle of per- haps the most brilliant politician of the day rushing crazily down to political and moral bank- ruptcy, and standing as almost a mythical figure, an incarnation of the Namierite view of the poli- tics of that period. Also, for the historian-detective, there has clearly been the delight of tracking down the rather shady group of businessmen who seem to have been Townshend's only real associates.

Again, we find that, at the finish, a chapter of first-class history hinges on the fantastic conduct of this man. After the Stamp Act had been re- pealed, it was he who secured the imposition of those further taxes that led to the revolt of the American colonies. In one sense it was the most impudent and unexpected of his offences; but in another sense the policy repre- sented the only thing on which, in his mercurial career, he showed steadiness and consistency. And so, to crown all, his life provides a beautiful specimen of what Namier regarded as the irony of history : great things issuing from trifling and absurd causes—big results produced by men who did not know what they were doing.

The authors of the present work have pro- vided us with entrancing material for thought, and with most interesting comments of their own, but they might, perhaps, have carried their reflections further. They have failed to bring out the fact that Charles Townshend was just the man to go off the rails in the kind of political world which George III worked so assiduously to produce. That monarch set out to destroy not merely party but political cohesion as such. Men whom he regarded as otherwise acceptable for ministerial office were excluded merely because they made it their principle to act together as a group. He explicitly accepted Bute's doctrine that even Ministers should not be too closely allied with one.another, lest they threaten his own in- dependence. Years before Burke's famous attack on this policy, Lord Hardwicke had pointed out the harm which it did to the cause of govern- ment itself. Charles Townshend, exploiting the new situation to the full, is surely an object- lesson for those who think that the great thing in the 1760s was the politician's cry of 'inde- pendence,' his claim to have no party allegiance.

And it is interesting to see the present authors so plainly shocked by a clever man who played a

lone hand, unhampered by any loyalty to fellow Ministers, any fidelity to colleagues in opposition. At the close of the book the two authors have had to deal with a thing that they have long avoided : the problem of the making of govern- mental policy. Partly because their treatment of it is magnificent, the consummation of the story appears as though it were itself a work of art —Townshend carrying the American taxes al- though 'the key posts in Chatham's Cabinet were held by men who . . . were opposed to the taxation of the colonies by the British Parliament. . . . The Cabinet was overwhelmingly pro- American.' This was, however, the Ministry after George III's own heart, the one that Burke pilloried on a famous occasion—all bits and pieces, a ragbag of creatures who had been plucked away from party connections.

It is possible to make too much of the fact that members of the House of Commons wanted to relieve their own pockets by taxing the colonists; for importance must attach to the lead which was given them. Before 1760, such a policy had been treated as dangerous, but, though it was more risky still after the Seven Years' War, it now came to be said that previous governments had been deterred by bogies of the imagination, by obstructions that were not really obstructions. The authoritarian principle began to assert itself and one finds it avowed that the Stamp Act was meant to make it clear (against a presumed opposition) that the mother country had the right to tax the colonies. Townshend had this authori- tarian streak, and, if he taxed the Americans, he was also determined to use the money to secure the salaries of colonial officials, so making them independent of any assembly.

On these various matters views did in fact differ, and it was perhaps a pity that there were not parties in full array, polarising opinion and both clarifying and hardening the issues. In the mixed and muddy situation that existed when men of miscellaneous views were jumbled to- gether in the same Cabinet, Townshend was able to impose upon colleagues who distrusted his policies but felt their own precariousness. They knew what a terror he could be in opposition.

HERBERT BUTTERFIELD