Conservatism of the English Enlightenment as Seen Through Travel
Before we can explore the travel narrative to see what exactly it is that sets the English Enlightenment apart from the French or Dutch Enlightenment, we need to understand the purpose of the travel narrative itself, and exactly what kinds of universal principles were presented in them which the English were so wary to discard. As readers, and scholars of the Enlightenment more broadly, we would expect to find travel narratives filled with stories of exotic cultures, living without the constraints of organized religion, or autocratic rule. Our instincts would lead us to believe that the people living through this era of radical progressive change—that is to say those being “Enlightened”—would leave their homelands with their own preconceived notions and deeply held beliefs, but through their travels, and their observations of different ways of existence, they would, in some way, be able to incorporate this new way of being into their own lives. At a moment in history when the most deeply entrenched tenets of European society are being violently thrust into skepticism, it would make sense for European travelers to draw parallels to their own nations, and to even change their own identities. And, in many cases, this does indeed occur. However, this pattern, found most frequently in French and even early American writings, is simply not present in most English travel narratives. In fact, there is a huge variety of ways in which the English use the theme of travel, whether to satirize the crown, as is the case in Gulliver’s Travels, or to tout the civility of English society, like in Robinson Crusoe. However, what remains the same throughout the gamut of English Enlightenment writings, and in particular, travel narratives, is the conspicuous reversion to English ideals just at the moment in which, it seems anyway, radical change is possible.
The Radicalism of the French Enlightenment
In order to properly frame this Conservative underpinning that I believe had a profound effect on the English Enlightenment, it is prudent to explore the writings of French and American writers, and in some rare circumstances, even British works, so there is a point of comparison. The more radical elements of the Enlightenment, especially with regards to the transformative potential of travel, can be observed outside the realm of mainstream British thought. Three examples in particular, paint a revealing picture of the distinctly uncommon circumstances often associated with this belief in travel as a means of changing universal values. What is so striking about all three of them is how far outside of mainstream English thought they all lie. In the first case, we will explore the writings of legendary French Enlightenment scholar, Michel de Montaigne, and in particular, his work on cannibalism. In his essay “Of Cannibals” Montaigne, gives an account of the cannibalism in the West Indies that suggests it is not as barbarous as we might believe, and he goes so far as to say that it is actually a less savage practice than many European torture and execution methods. He writes:
I am not sorry that we should here take notice of the Barbarous Horror of so Cruel an Action, but that seeing so clearly their Faults, we should be so blind to our own: For I conceive there is more Barbarity in eating a man Alive, than when he is dead…as we have not only read, but lately seen; not amongst inveterate and mortal Enemies, but Neighbors, and fellow Citizens, and which is worse, under colour of Piety and Religion. [1]
This cultural relativism being espoused by Montaigne seems to be at complete odds with the universalism championed by the English, and as such, it is no surprise that we as Americans, being descendent from the Anglo-Saxon tradition, seem to find Montaigne’s approach extreme. Brett Kaup illustrates this point nicely in his blog post from September 29th, in which he writes:
However, what struck me as interesting is that some of the writers (especially Montaigne) had views on cannibalism that certainly would not be accepted in our current society. Today cannibalism is beyond illegal, it is seen as morally wrong and unforgivable. Thus, for Montaigne to write about cannibalism as if it is something that friends experience together and enjoy is greatly different from our current perceptions of cannibalism.[2]
Montaigne and his contemporaries such as Denis Diderot, represent the more radical end of the spectrum of Enlightenment thought, and to so blatantly question issues such as cannibalism and, in Diderot’s essay on Tahiti, sex, in light of New World cultures is indicative of the radicalism inherent to the French Enlightenment. Even more than this, though, it is distinctly non-British of them to do so.
Though the views of Montaigne and Diderot are, by French standards, not particularly extreme, it is the history and the social conservatism deeply ingrained in the English identity that makes the French embrace of radicalism so very repulsive to mainstream English Enlightenment thought. This aversion to liberalism and radicalism, it should be noted, does not mean that English scholars were burying their heads in the sand in any way. According to Jonathan Israel, in his review of the Encycopedia of the Enlightenment, the conservatism of the English Enlightenment did not mean that English scholars were any less educated or curious than their Continental counterparts, but rather, they were more conservative in their interpretations and applications of Enlightenment ideals:
As the eighteenth century wore on, the British, in contradistinction especially to the French materialist Enlightenment, tended to distance itself gradually from the emancipatory, egalitarian, and republican dimensions of Enlightenment thought or, as with Tom Paine, repudiated its more forthright democrats and libertarians. As a result, British culture and thought, well before the outbreak of the American War of Independence, came to be associated with socially conservative attitudes and strident insistence on English-style limited monarchy, aristocracy, racial hierarchy, and empire. As Roy Porter justly and repeatedly remarked, agreeing with John Pocock, the "Enlightenment took on something of a conservative quality in England." Hence, the fact that Edmund Burke, for instance, became an ardent supporter of aristocracy, and enemy of revolutionary egalitarianism, by no means implies he was any less steeped in Locke, Hume, Hutcheson, and Adam Smith than most other Enlightenment ideologues.[3]
While the French inched closer and closer to a bloody revolution, the English fiercely fought to preserve their kingdom, and in this struggle to protect their national integrity against threats both foreign and domestic, the conservative tradition took its shape.
English Conservatism in Unexpected Places
Though it is obvious when one reads Diderot or Montaigne that the French enthusiastically bought in to the possibility and profitability of radical change, there are in fact several instances in English writings where it seems that Britons see the possibility of change offered by travel to different lands, and leap at the chance to pursue it. However, what marks these works as outside the mainstream of English conservatism is the circumstances in which this belief is espoused. In the first example, we look to The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano. This classic example of an Enlightenment travel narrative follows the true story of Equiano, an African slave, as he is brought in to English society, and is faced with the possibility of radical change. Although he is African by birth, Equiano takes a great liking to English society, and in particular, Christianity. As the narrative progresses, Equiano finds himself becoming more and more like a European, and less like an African. He writes:
From the various scenes I had beheld on ship-board, I soon grew a stranger to terror of every kind, and was, in that respect at least, almost an Englishman. I have often reflected with surprise that I never felt half the alarm at any of the numerous dangers I have been in, that I was filled with at the first fight of the Europeans, and at every act of theirs, even the most trifling, when I first came among them, and for some time afterwards. That fear, however, which was the effect of my ignorance, wore away as I began to know them. I could now speak English tolerably well, and I perfectly understood every thing that was said. I now not only felt myself quite easy with these new countrymen, but relished their society and manners. I no longer looked upon them as spirits, but as men superior to us; and therefore I had the stronger desire to resemble them; to imbibe their spirit, and imitate their manners; I therefore embraced every occasion of improvement; and every new thing that I observed I treasured up in my memory.[4]
Equiano’s description of immersion into a culture different than his own, and the subsequent adoption of the identity inherent to this new culture, is something not often found in English literature from this time. However, when we consider the unusual context of this transformation, it actually makes a great deal of sense. The English, in their travel narratives, are extremely reluctant to abandon their English values in favor of something different, however in Equiano’s case, he is abandoning his native culture in favor of a British identity.
In some ways, ironically, Equiano’s travel narrative is quite similar to the English travel narrative because of its differences. As Rachael points out in her post from December 1st, “One thing that is different in Equiano’s Interesting Narrative is that life on a ship is described in detail as one of the distinct cultures that Equiano lives in, whereas ships in Gulliver’s Travels were simply used to get Gulliver to and from the different societies he ends up in, as well as to give the reader an exciting ship crash scene in between his more important adventures.”[5] Whereas English travelers sailed on their ships with the values and universal maxims of the English identity already deeply entrenched within them, it is actually on the ship that Equiano’s transformation takes place. Though Equiano comes into contact with other cultures via his travels, he is always surrounded by Englishmen, and in the process of adopting the English culture, he often finds himself similarly rejecting radical change, and as such, Equiano’s transformation to an Englishman begins long before he ever sets foot on British soil.
Colonial Conservatism
Equiano’s account is, obviously, from someone far outside the English mainstream, but there is another example, which comes from the English establishment itself, in which travel is represented as a viable means of radical transformation. However, like the narrative of Equiano, this example is also steeped in extraordinary circumstances that warrant further analysis. In 1741, Benjamin Franklin wrote and published a letter to the editor of the Pennsylvania Gazette entitled “Rattle-Snakes for Felons.” In this scathing letter, Franklin decries the English practice of transportation of criminals to the colonies as an affront to the sovereignty of the colonies, and a slap in the face to the colonists. According to Franklin, the “Government at home” had decided that the colonial Assemblies could not make any law preventing the importation of convicts from England because “Such Laws are against the Publick Utility, as they tend to prevent the IMPROVEMENT and WELL PEOPLING of the Colonies.”[6] Franklin’s response is absolutely dripping with sarcasm, as he mockingly thanks England for, “such tender parental Concern in our Mother Country for the Welfare of her Children”[7] What is interesting about this incident, however, is the attitude adopted by the Crown with regards to convicts.
It seems very strange that, despite the conservative attitude of the Brits, they would believe transportation could possibly be an effective way to rehabilitate convicts. However, despite this confusing stance, when we examine it from a practical perspective, it makes a lot more sense. Brett Kaup, in a post from November 3rd, makes two very interesting points that I think help to understand this issue from the perspective of British conservatism. He wrote:
In my other class, we discussed how this practice was not only used as a practical means by Britain to get rid of prisoners, but was also just another way for the “Mother Country” to establish its power and dominance over its colonies…Yes, it is commonly accepted that other violations committed by Britain truly led to the Declaration of Independence, and to the Revolutionary War (such as the Stamp Act and the Boston Tea Party), but it didn’t help Britain’s case that they were bombarding the American colonies with criminals.[8]
I think the first point Brett makes, that transportation was just a practical way to maintain British dominance in the colonies and solve the problem of excessive crowding in British jails, explains why the Crown is taking an attitude so contrary to what we would expect. In essence, it’s a bullshit excuse to transport criminals. But, more importantly, I think he makes a great point when he says that this practice may have been a contributor to the American Revolution, because I think Brett realizes that Franklin, and all colonists at this point in time, still do consider themselves Englishmen. As such, they have, to a certain degree, anyway, the same conservative values as the English, and they would have seen right through the bullshit excuse of transportation being for “the betterment of the colonies.” In fact, I think that Franklin’s response is a quintessentially British one, and it is indicative of the pervasiveness of this attitude throughout the British Empire. It is worth noting that Edmund Burke is considered the father of English conservatism, but many scholars also argue that John Adams was an equally important figure to the history of conservatism, and although American conservatism was borne out of different circumstances, the roots of his ideology is distinctly English.[9]
Rule Britannia: The Strength of the English Identity
Having now explored, in great detail, the foundations of the Enlightenment, and the role the travel narrative played in non-mainstream Enlightenment literature, it’s finally time to talk about Jolly Ole England. Why is it that the English love their country so much, and why do they refer to the side of the road they drive on as “the proper side?” This unwavering commitment to all things British is somewhat unique in European history, and it is an important factor in understanding Britain’s resistance to radicalism and change. This quintessential “Britishness” which has largely dictated the social trajectory of Great Britain for several hundred years, has deep roots. In her book, Britons: Forging the Nation, 1707-1837, Linda Colley explains the origins of “Britishness” and its importance to the English identity. She writes:
In all kinds of ways, Britishness was constructed and contested after 1707 in response to overseas developments. On the one hand, the existence from the 1600s of flourishing colonies in North America and the Caribbean meant that there came into being what David Hanckock calls a ‘British Atlantic community.” As a result, the loss after 1776 of the most populous sector of this transatlantic community, the Thirteen Colonies, provoked both trauma at home and an unavoidable reappraisal of how Britain could be renovated and its rulers re-legitimize themselves…the overwhelming Catholicism of large parts of Continental Europe, and especially France and Spain, provided a newly-invented Britain with a formidable ‘other’ against which it could usefully define itself. The real and imaginary threat represented by the French and…Spanish forms of government, religion, and military power allowed the different Protestant traditions of Scotland, Wales, and England to come together in a common union of self-preservation, anxiety, and defiance.[10]
The common struggle against the Continental powers of France and Spain, and Great Britain’s need to define itself by some sort of “other” for the purpose of unifying the fragmented nations, peoples, and ideologies that make up Great Britain, explain the roots of English conservatism. This attitude came to the forefront of English Enlightenment philosophy as a result of this ingrained Britishness, and pride in being an Englishman. The French and American Revolutions would only serve to strengthen this attitude, as they both represented an existential challenge to the unity of Great Britain, and the credibility of the empire. When one listens to the words of “Rule Britannia” it becomes clear that the British felt, sincerely, that if there was any sign of discontent from within, the nation would surely crumble, and as such, they tried to instill an attitude of English superiority and dominance in every one of their citizens. So long as the British crown rules the world, the British people will remain the greatest people on earth. This deeply rooted conviction that the English way is the only way is key to understanding the type of conservatism observed in English Enlightenment travel narratives.
One of the quintessential travel narratives of the English Enlightenment, and one that I believe demonstrates precisely the sort of English conservatism prevalent in Britain during the Enlightenment, is Daniel Defoe’s 1719 novel, Robinson Crusoe. At many points throughout the novel, Crusoe, a man who has been shipwrecked alone on what he believes to be a deserted island, finds himself at the very edge of acceptance of radical change. One of the most prominent examples, and one that serves as a parallel to the French Enlightenment, is Crusoe’s treatment of cannibalism. After discovering that he is in fact not alone on the island, Crusoe soon finds out that the people sharing his tropical home are in fact cannibals. Although he is initially repulsed by the practice, Swift’s character has a moment of revelation in which he employs cultural relativism to justify the practice. In fact, he goes so far as to claim, much like Montaigne does in his essay on Cannibalism, “…these people were not murtherers, in the sense that I had once condemned them in my thoughts, anymore than those Christians were murtherers, who often put to death the prisoners taken in battle, or more frequently, upon many occasions, put whole troops of men to the sword, without giving quarter, though they threw down their arms and surrendered.”[11] Indeed, it seems for a while anyway, that Crusoe is content not to judge these “savages” based on their behavior, as he is in no position to judge a culture that is not his own.
Crusoe goes on to kill several natives and free one of their prisoners whom he takes on as a manservant, teaching him about religion and English culture. It is true that this racial superiority is indeed a tenet of English conservatism in its own right, and it is an important point of departure from the egalitarian views espoused by some Continental Enlightenment thinkers. As is pointed out by Rachael in her post from September 29th, “The events of the story also support the idea that Europeans are inherently better than natives, because of the way that Friday immediately becomes subservient to Crusoe as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The implication here is that natives should be subservient to white Europeans so they can be civilized.”[12] If Swift had left Crusoe’s interactions with the natives at this point, it still may have contained signs of conservatism, but it would have been tinged with liberal views more typical of the French, such as cultural relativism. However, in typical English fashion, Crusoe is just not quite ready to give up on his Britishness.
There are two important ways in which Swift allows the conservatism of the English Enlightenment to influence the trope of cannibalism. First, Swift subtly creates a parallel between the cannibals and himself in order to show the reader the barbarity of the act as opposed to Crusoe’s civility. Swift endeavors to show his readers how an Englishman would survive on a deserted island, and in typical English fashion, Crusoe creates his own microcosm of society in which he produces bread, cheese, oatmeal, and even fresh meat—essentially, a proper English breakfast. The fact that a man marooned on the other side of the world can take it upon himself to maintain his Englishness, even in his choice of food, is one thing, but then Swift goes a step further, positioning Crusoe’s perseverance, ingenuity, and will to survive in a civilized manner against the backdrop of the native’s cannibalistic practice. Whether you consciously take notice of it or not, the fact is that when Crusoe first lays eyes on the cannibals preparing to eat another human, despite anything he says about reserving judgment, there is an obvious underlying message.
Crusoe is living in the same conditions as the natives; in fact one could go as far as to say that he, as a lone survivor, is in much more dire straights than the cannibals, yet he does not resort to the savagery of cannibalism, and through his hard work, he produces much more complex and “civilized” meals than the barbarians eating men on the other side of the island. Adherence to civility, and the English way of life, is in this way shrewdly juxtaposed against radical transformation, and this English perseverance, which has always been a crucial part of the English identity comes through in the novel. As Brett Kaup pointed out in his post from September 22, “In my belief, the tale is one of showing that whether one faces adversity such as a stormy sea, threatening beasts and savages, or solitude on an island, perseverance is always possible.”[13] Or, in the words of an old song, so long as they uphold their English values, “Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.”
More telling than this subtle distinction, though, is Swift’s decision to return to the trope of cannibalism later in the novel, and the way in which Crusoe reacts to the prospect of cannibalism against a fellow European speaks strongly the to conviction of his conservative values. After his manservant Friday tells Crusoe that the cannibals have taken a man with a white beard, he writes:
I was fill’d with Horror at the very naming of the white-bearded Man, and going to the Tree, I saw plainly by my Glass, a white Man who lay upon the Beach of the Sea, with his Hands and his Feet ty’d, with Flags, or Things like Rushes; and that he was an European, and had Cloaths on…I with-held my Passion, though I was indeed enrag’d to the highest Degree.[14]
In the moments following this passage, Crusoe, Friday, and the Spaniard kill 21 natives in retaliation for their intent to butcher the European. Cultural relativism, it seems, finds its limits when it comes to the prospect of a civilized white man being butchered by the savages of the island. At the crucial moment in which it seems Crusoe has accepted radical change in his view of the world, when he first observes the cannibals on the island, Swift’s interpretation of the Enlightenment seems to put him in the same school as Montaigne and Diderot. Yet, what distinguishes them, and marks Swift’s work as distinctly English, is his withdrawal from this fantasy world of egalitarianism and subjectivism, and his return to the universality of English values. Though he may claim that cannibalism is no more savage than the deeds of the Europeans against one another, when the critical moment arrived in which he had to make a decision about attacking a group that outnumbered him ten-to-one, it’s almost as if you could hear Rule Britannia playing in the background as he ruthlessly slaughtered the savage barbarians where they stood.
Conclusion
The conservatism of the English Enlightenment, embodied in the writings of Franklin and Swift amongst others, is something best observed through philosophy and literature. Though it may be subtle to a casual reader of Enlightenment works, when we consider the history surrounding this English attitude, the Britishness of these works stands out as a truly unique facet of the English Enlightenment. It very well may be, as Justin Champion of the University of London contends in his essay about irreligion and the English Enlightenment:
The Enlightenment in England was a conservative and clerical movement with no destabilizing propensities. It was a sensibility that throve within rather than without piety: a programme of religious reform rather than revolution.6 In England after 1660, as a result of the profound social and intellectual inversions of the Revolutionary decades, it is possible to speak with confidence of a society that was riven by competing ideological prescriptions for true religion and government.[15]
But whether you choose to see the English Enlightenment as an inconsequential movement, constrained by the concrete bounds of conservative principles and all-powerful institutions, or as merely a more practical and undisruptive application of radical new ideas, the fact remains that the conservatism of the English Enlightenment, seen through its aversion to radical change in travel narratives from the eighteenth century, has played a defining role in the English identity, and indeed, world history more broadly.
To Thee Belongs the Rural Reign;
Thy Cities shall with commerce shine:
All thine shall be the subject main;
And every shore it circles thine.
“Rule, Britannia! Britannia rule the waves,”
“Britons never will be slaves.”
Works Cited
Montaigne, Mechel de. “Of Cannibals.” Trans. Charles Cotton Essays of Michael Seigneur de Montaigne. 1711. Print
Kaup, Brett. "Cannibalism: Then and Now." Benjamin Franklin and the Age of Enlightenment. N.p., 29 Sep 2011. Web. 15 Dec. 2011
Israel, Jonathan. "Enlightenment! Which Enlightenment?." Journal of the History of Ideas. 67.3 (2006): 531-532. Web. 15 Dec. 2011. .
Equiano, Olaudah. The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano. Title II. Series III. Toronto: Broadview Press Ltd, 1934. 92-93. Print.
Kaup, Brett. "Crusoe's Perseverence." Benjamin Franklin and the Age of Enlightenment . N.p., 22 Sep 2011. Web. 15 Dec. 2011.
Champion, Justin. "May the last king be strangled in the bowels of the last priest’: irreligion and the English Enlightenment, 1649-1789." . Royal Holloway College, University of London, n.d. Web. 15 Dec 2011.
[1] Montaigne, 398
[2] Kaup, “Cannibalism: Then and Now” 9/29/11
[3] Israel, pp.531-532
[4] Equiano, pp.92-93
[5] Rachael H, “Equiano’s Travel Narrative” 12/1/11
[8] Kaup, 11/3/11
[9] For further reading on the roots of American conservatism, John Adams, and Edmund Burke, see Randall Ripley’s article “Adams, Burke, and Eighteenth Century Conservatism” http://www.jstor.org/stable/2147740
[11] Defoe, p.191
[12] Rachael H, “Expansion Justified” 9/29/11
[13] Kaup, “Crusoe’s Perseverance” 9/22/11
[14] Defoe, 243
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