In this, as in much else, he was heavily influenced by the French thinker Montesquieu, in his words ‘the greatest genius, which has enlightened this age’. Montesquieu argued that history was governed by general causes, constrained by ‘the nature of things’, be that physical geography or human custom and law. The result was an approach which emphasized key themes working themselves out through time, illuminated by carefully chosen examples. The experimental nature of Burke’s work may be hinted at in its title, An Essay towards an Abridgement of English History. But the book was never completed. It extends only as far as 1216, the passage of Magna Carta and the death of King John; and it was not published until 1812, some time after Burke’s death.
Even so, the History is of great interest and value in understanding Burke. Its shape is broadly chronological, surveying in turn the ancient Britons, the Romans, Saxons and Normans. Each of them is treated in terms of their distinctive institutions and character or ‘genius’. This gives the work an occasional touch of 1066 and All That, of post-hoc-propter-hoc-ism in which historical contingency and luck are downplayed in favour of predestination and ‘the English story’.
But the History is kept from this, or, worse, from the trite or pedestrian, by its many saving graces. One grace lies in its stylistic brio, starting from the opening chapter, which sweeps the reader majestically across the main facts of Europe’s geography and their relation to its history. Another lies in Burke’s flair for journalistic colour and the telling detail. A third lies in its deep engagement and sympathy with the cultures under examination, including those underplayed by others; thus Burke discusses at length the customs and institutions of the ancient Britons, paying particular attention to the Druids, ‘the priests, lawgivers, and physicians of their nation’. Infusing the whole is a dynamic, emergent Whiggish sense of liberty. And it is extraordinary to record that, even at this early stage, Burke is already exploring ideas about political parties in the History that he does not publish until 1770, as we shall see.
The History is also marked by Burke’s insistence once again on the importance of providence, allowing him to avoid the intellectual trap of treating Montesquieu’s historical laws as deterministic certainties. And then there is the sheer persuasiveness of the book’s deeper argument. English history, English culture and English law did not begin with the Normans, the rest being dark ages; nor indeed with the Romans; the English are thus a heterogeneous and mixed people; in general, institutions matter more than individuals; custom, habit and manners are distinct from law, and often superior to reason; the present and future are conditioned, though not determined, by the past. These are, already, familiar and distinctively Burkean themes.
In the Enquiry, Burke had written, ‘Those which engage our hearts, which impress us with a sense of loveliness, are the softer virtues; easiness of temper, compassion, kindness and liberality; though certainly these are of less immediate and momentous concern to society, and of less dignity. But it is for that reason that they are so amiable.’ This is Jane Nugent to the life, as one might expect in an essay on beauty and the emotions, written in early courtship. Edmund and Jane had married in March 1757. Jane’s Catholicism cannot have pleased Edmund’s father, but the couple adopted the Anglican rites for the marriage ceremony.
In the following year, the Burkes had two children, Richard in February and Christopher in December. Christopher’s namesake Dr Nugent had decided to move to London, and this probably helped them to establish a home together – first in Battersea, in those days a village on the southern outskirts of London, and then on Wimpole Street. Wimpole Street now lies in the centre of London. At that time it was on the northern edge, with open fields beyond. Burke always loved the countryside, and may have deemed it healthier for his young children. The household waxed and waned. As well as immediate family, for several years it included Dr Nugent and his son Jack. Edmund’s brother Richard also lived for long periods with him and Jane, as did Will Burke between his travels. There was, in addition, a never-ending stream of visitors and house guests.
Burke now had a wife, a family, a home, and a burgeoning literary reputation. What he did not have was an income. The Vindication and the Enquiry attracted modest fees; he and Will shared £50 for the copyright of the Account; and the History would have earned £300 if it had been completed (though in fact the project petered out in 1762). But these were small sums, at a time when a gentleman aspired to live on not less that £300 a year. More was needed, and rapidly.
Accordingly, he turned in two directions: to journalism and, less directly, to public life. In April 1758 Burke contracted with the Dodsleys to edit, write for and produce the Annual Register. Over the previous decades there had been an explosion in newspapers and print journalism, first dailies and more recently monthlies with the launch of the Gentleman’s Magazine and the London Magazine in the 1730s. Various annuals had also been published, epitomizing each year’s events. The Annual Register attempted something new: not merely to be an authoritative and highly readable account of the year, but to add to that documentary record a wide range of other material of general interest. Its first part thus comprised a long piece of instant history, describing the main events of the year and placing them in a wider context, and a diary containing factual material culled from the newspapers, including births and deaths, speeches by the King, summaries of Acts of Parliament, and human-interest stories.
The distinctive second part was more lively. It included scientific reports, reviews, essays, poetry, history, health and how-to tips, recent discoveries, archaeology and ‘Characters’ – character sketches of contemporary and historical figures, short biographies and anecdotes. Controversy was not sought out, but there was no attempt at balance for the sake of it. Some of the new material may not have been by Burke himself, but as editor he controlled the whole. The Register was, and was intended to be, thought-provoking, eclectic, lively and extremely wide-ranging – an extension of Burke’s own mind. It was a success from the first. Despite some gaps, and even a period with two competing versions, it is still published today.
For Burke himself, however, the Register was a mixed blessing. It paid a salary of £100 a year, which was badly needed, but not enough for any real security. It gave him editorial experience, and a position, but not one of any great public dignity or status. And it immersed him in current events, though it proved to be hard work over the seven years in which he was operationally in charge. Yet it had other clear virtues. It allowed him to build up a small team of friends and supporters, including in later years Walker King and French Laurence, who became his editors and literary executors. It enabled him to spread his ever-expanding moral and intellectual sensibility over a vast range of British and European thought, including Samuel Johnson, Adam Smith, the Scottish philosopher Thomas Reid, Rousseau, Voltaire and his beloved Montesquieu, as well as a host of lesser names. And finally it gave him further modest currency within literary, and in time polite, society.
It was at about this time, probably in 1759, that Burke took his first tentative steps towards the world of politics. His entrée was via an introduction to William Gerard Hamilton. Hamilton was just a year older than Burke. Educated at Harrow, Oriel College Oxford and Lincoln’s Inn, he had inherited a large fortune and been elected to Parliament for Petersfield in 1754. He has gone down in parliamentary lore as ‘single-speech’ Hamilton, after his maiden speech in 1755 on the Address, the speech from the throne which always opens a new session of Parliament. But this epithet does Hamilton an injustice: he in fact made a second speech, his last, the following year.
In an age where the parliamentary gene pool was small and social position much admired, Hamilton had successfully attached himself to Henry Fox, who had hugely enriched himself as Paymaster of the Forces. Through Fox, Hamilton was quickly appointed to serve under Lord Halifax at the Board of Trade. An ambitious man, he was looking for a secretary and personal assistant, and engaged Burke to that end, probably on a salary of £300