The Creighton century: British historians and Europe, 1907–2007*

R. J. W. Evans

The first Creighton Lecture took place on 4 October 1907, almost seven years after the death of the scholar and bishop whom it honoured. Apart from being delivered by a lifelong friend, its published version stands in no discernible relation to Mandell Creighton himself, except for treating of his narrower patria, the Anglo-Scottish border. In fact the whole subsequent lecture series has been a second-best, a way of expending revenue from the fund (£650 at that time, half of it donated by Creighton’s widow Louise) until such time – so the enabling decree prescribed – as a chair, or at least a permanent lecturership, could be created.¹ At any rate it has clearly served the memory of Creighton, not so much as a remarkable prelate and public figure, but in his earlier and lasting avocation, as historian.

Mandell Creighton was, and felt himself to be, very English. He gave a famous address, to which I shall return, on English ‘national character’.² Yet he ranks, equally and inseparably, as a ‘European’, indeed as one of the earliest of them in our profession. Let me identify three strands in that Europeanness. First, the five stout volumes of Creighton’s account of the late medieval papacy. This magnum opus was (needless to say) no narrowly Catholic or institutional survey; on the contrary, Creighton called it ‘materials for a judgment of ... the Reformation’. Rather it constitutes one of the first great attempts to introduce the British to explicitly modern and European history. In his preface the author is quite definite about both those interlocking purposes: ‘I have taken the history of the Papacy as the central point of my investigation, because it gives the largest opportunity for a survey of European affairs as a whole ... The object of the following pages is to trace ... the working of the causes which brought about the change from medieval to modern times.’³

This enterprise earned Mandell the newly established Dixie chair at Cambridge (and a full three-quarters of a century later a distinguished successor in that office would remarkably devote his entire inaugural to Creighton).⁴ It also led to Creighton’s role in a second manifesto of European intent: the English Historical Review, of which he became founding editor when it was launched in 1886. The title connoted a local habitation (‘England’) for an openly international journal, designed to match Germany’s Historische Zeitschrift or France’s Revue Historique. The preface announced universal concerns and sought the aid of continental scholars; and Creighton was eager to secure foreign books for attention in its columns.⁵

Once he was appointed bishop (of Peterborough, then of London), other priorities imposed themselves upon Creighton. However, his European horizons continued to expand, even – and third, in our sequence – as far as Russia, where he paid an official visit as British representative at the coronation of Tsar Nicholas II in 1896. Mandell covered the event extensively in correspondence to his wife (whose father had been born in Reval, in the guberniya of Estonia). He was bowled over by the lavishness of the ceremonial, religious and secular intermingling, and by popular fervour at what would prove to be the last great spectacle of Russia’s ancien regime. Moreover, this liberal Anglican bishop was hugely impressed by the regime’s reactionary éminence grise, Konstantin Pobedonostsev, whose ‘powerful mind, clear vision and large knowledge’ made him ‘one of the ablest men I have ever met’. The letters were preserved like relics among the family papers; and on the occasion of the English Historical Review’s centenary in 1986, I had the opportunity to consult them, courtesy of Mandell’s grandson.⁶

All this gives me my theme for the present centenary commemoration, afforced as it is by a further anniversary: that of the treaty signed exactly half as long ago, in that same city of Rome which was so central to Creighton’s professional concerns, both academic and ecclesiastical. In part I shall use as illustration some of the earlier lectures in the series. But bear in mind two considerations. On the one hand, the diversity and range of the annual Creighton Lectures have been vast: an appendix (below) shows titles and publication details, so far as the university secretariat in London and I have been able to establish them. About a third of them only will qualify for any mention at all in the present context. On the other hand, the question to be treated in my title is evidently itself much broader. So I shall endeavour to blend laconic case-studies with pointers to larger trends. Moreover, I shall say little about medieval topics, as lying beyond my competence; or about very recent times and colleagues still in harness, as lying beyond my presumption.

My overall aim is to suggest (in highly preliminary fashion) approaches to a gap in the literature on twentieth-century historiography in the United Kingdom.⁷ As a genre this literature remains very British-, even English-centred. Not only is it stronger on method and theory than on form and content, but its subject matter has been almost exclusively national and domestic. Yet even if we wished to contend that native themes held hegemonic status in British historiography over that whole period (and I do not), it would seem important at least to consider how our Continental neighbours have been viewed. In other words, ‘European history’ is a valid category, beyond its own intrinsic worth, even for understanding British views of a British past. We ought to bring its practitioners within the canon, and also beware of miscasting some of our authors as exclusively English by bracketing out their own forays across the Channel.

***

The years around 1907 looked promising for the nascent Creightonian vision of ‘Europe’. The publication of the Cambridge Modern History, launched by Lord Acton (who had wanted Creighton to contribute a general introduction on the ‘medieval roots of modern history’),⁸ was now in full swing under Adolphus William Ward, a scholar equally committed (as the son of a British consul in Germany) to its inter- and trans-continental coverage. Related works of substance, such as Edward Armstrong’s two volumes on the Emperor Charles V, had begun to appear.⁹ There were fresh textbooks on recent European developments by John Holland Rose, J. A. R. Marriott, C. T. Atkinson and others. Creighton’s enthusiasm for Italy from the Renaissance to the Risorgimento (he named his daughters after characters in Dante) had been inherited by such as his family friend, G. M. Trevelyan.¹⁰ The first chairs in modern languages were springing up, sometimes helped into being by prominent historians like Charles Firth.¹¹ Precisely 100 years ago as I write, a pioneering School of Russian Studies was established at Liverpool under Bernard Pares. In the same year the young Robert William Seton-Watson published his first work on the Habsburgs; and his exact contemporary, Harold Temperley, was also at large in central Europe.¹² Britons took a growing part in the early international (at that stage effectively European) congresses of historians, which culminated in the 1913 event, held in London, when they delivered nearly half the papers (ninety-one in all).¹³ The leading light of the country’s research culture, T. F. Tout, pronounced in 1906 that ‘in our academic curriculum, we ought ... to throw our main stress on foreign history, medieval and modern’.¹⁴

Yet what did ‘Europe’ mean? It remained an epithet which British commentators tended to hold at arm’s length. It certainly had little place in university curricula. Stubbsian Oxford had divided the world’s past into ‘English history’ and ‘General history’ (Europe being wholly absorbed within the second of these): two essentially watertight compartments which still had a rich and bright future before them. Edward Grey – in his younger days Creighton’s protégé and confidant – knew nothing of the Continent from personal experience, either before or after he became responsible for British policy towards it.¹⁵ The 1913 conference had many of its sessions on Great Britain, in deference to the proclivities of its hosts. Besides, there was the current cult of ‘Englishness’, which had been nurtured by Creighton too, as an embodiment of his own mission to promote the humane Christian values of the Renaissance. In 1896, at the acme of Britain’s imperial self-assurance, Mandell had given a lecture at Oxford on English national character, a set of distinctive traits which he claimed had been established by his own nation before any other, and with freedom of expression and tolerance of opinions at their root. He saw it as a primordial historical construct: England’s ‘desire to manage its own affairs, and adapt its institutions to its own needs ... institutions [which] depend for their success on the capacity of the English people to work them’ – so they patently cannot be exported. ‘Our air of condescension towards foreigners’, remarked Creighton, ‘is certainly of long standing’. Yes, indeed! One wonders what his friend Pobedonostsev, who we know read the text assiduously, made of that.¹⁶

The historiographical imprint of this ambivalence towards Continental Europe can best be illustrated with relation to Germany, that great formative influence on Victorian historiography, which proved the most lasting receptacle for ideas of historicism, prevalent for a shorter time in many branches of British learning.¹⁷ Stubbs’s inaugural address back in 1866 had looked to a ‘republic of workers’ in modern history, led by the Germans.¹⁸ The constitution of that polity was supplied by Acton, especially through his famous lead article in the first number of the English Historical Review on ‘German schools of historiography’, which Creighton thought would ‘command attention all over the Continent’.¹⁹ James Bryce, another of Mandell’s close associates on the journal and elsewhere, and president of the 1913 international congress, was a close student of those schools; so was the bilingual Ward, the main organizer in 1913. On that occasion sixty-five Germans came to London, headed by Otto von Gierke and Karl Lamprecht, and twenty-five more from Austria-Hungary (besides such products of the German system as Henri Pirenne). Firth and Tout used their presence to lament some of the limitations of the historical profession in Britain, as measured by their standard.²⁰

Creighton himself had trained in the German historical literature of his day (even translating a volume of Ranke), thanks not least to his wife, née Louise von Glehn and a native speaker.²¹ His whole Papacy strove towards an understanding of Luther (even if Chadwick later thought he underrated theology in his presentation of the Reformation). Once Creighton preached before Kaiser Wilhelm II at Sandringham and stressed the joint providential responsibilities of the ‘nations of Teutonic race’.²² G. P. Gooch, a private savant with German Ausbildung and a German wife, was the chief British exponent of the study of European historiography, himself particularly strong on the Prussian School. Karl Alexander von Müller, the first future German historian to go to Oxford as a Rhodes scholar, was enraptured by the place.²³

And yet the relationship soon came under impossible strain. There were already signs of alienation from the German side before 1914.²⁴ In Britain understanding (including linguistic) was never complete, and appreciation not unmixed.²⁵ Then came wartime acrimony, even as Ward, in his three volumes on nineteenth-century Germany (1916–18), published the finest fruits of earlier co-operation. Other current work already took sides markedly, as with Marriott’s and Robertson’s treatment of Prussia, or the latter’s of Bismarck. Later, Robertson’s strange nativist manifesto for a Creighton audience in 1927 was cast in the same vein. Gooch held to his standards and contacts: his Creighton Lecture of 1923 on the origins of the war is as dispassionate as his 1925 survey of modern Germany.²⁶ But he stood largely alone. No other British colleague features in the published inter-war correspondence of Berlin’s best-known historian, Friedrich Meinecke, although Meinecke was busy reading English texts for his Entstehung des Historismus and was elected a fellow of the Royal Historical Society.²⁷ There are none at all in that of the rising star of the next generation, Gerhard Ritter, although Ritter likewise drew on English sources.²⁸ Moreover, the later career of Müller must give us pause; despite his edition of a translation of Seeley’s Expansion of England, and a life of Pitt the Elder, he became the most prominent supporter within the profession of the Nazi regime. We might feel a slight shudder when in his memoirs he praises Oxford’s college system for its promotion of Lebensgemeinschaft.²⁹

***

The Great War was naturally reflected in contemporary Creighton Lecture themes: from Bryce at its outset on ‘the part played in history’– although only really in the recent past, as he opined – ‘by a conscious sentiment of race’; to Firth in 1917, inspiriting his audience by parallels with (he argued) the far tougher and more protracted defence of Britain against Napoleon. War and its aftermath suddenly validated contemporary history, yielding jobs in the profession for such as Seton-Watson and Charles Webster or Llewellyn Woodward, who both made their name in topical fashion with comparative studies of previous peace congresses. They also secured a heightened role for Europe, at least as a meaningful collection of inter-state relationships. That was buttressed by the official historiography which the war spawned: the Peace Pamphlets, the work of Chatham House (soon to be run by Arnold Toynbee), and the big editions – Temperley’s History of the Peace Conference; Ward’s and Gooch’s Cambridge History of British Foreign Policy; then Gooch’s and Temperley’s British Documents on the Origins of the War – consciously part of an international debate (even if constrained by patriotic objectives too).³⁰ Alongside them appeared new handbooks, destined to be long lasting: Grant’s and Temperley’s Europe in the Nineteenth Century; Gooch’s History of Modern Europe; Thompson’s Lectures on Foreign History.

Some of this labour flowed over into a wider partnership with Continental colleagues, at least those from friendly powers. Admiration for Pirenne, now transformed into the soul of an anti-German historians’ front, led to his delivering (in 1930) the only Creighton Lecture in the entire series so far in a foreign tongue.³¹ Out of the congress which Pirenne mounted at Brussels in 1923 grew a new international association, the Comité International des Sciences Historiques (C.I.S.H.), on which the United Kingdom was represented initially by Temperley.³² Trevelyan stressed the need to learn Continental history and modern languages.³³ However, we find little sign of lasting British involvement in Pirenne’s circle. His Dutch equivalent Huizinga was more clearly Anglophile; but again next to no Britons appear among his correspondents, even after the success of his Waning of the Middle Ages, translated in 1924.³⁴

The outcome of the war had, after all, confirmed some of this island’s firmest conceits too, of the kind espoused by Creighton. It was a victory for the values of ‘our race ... history’s blood royal, English of the old stock, with the greatest record of ordered progress in the world’, as Trevelyan put it in his 1919 Creighton Lecture.³⁵ And although the fighting took millions across the Channel, ‘war reinforced a feeling of insularity’. ‘Continentals’, as Keith Robbins has nicely put it, still ‘had to be made aware that there was an offshore light beckoning them in the right direction’.³⁶ Temperley, president of the C.I.S.H. by the mid nineteen-thirties, might be lionized abroad, but he became rather pompous and fractious and out of touch at home.³⁷ Besides, he and his like continued to project abroad a detached version of the liberalism (and often the Anglicanism as well) which had fallen into crisis within Britain.³⁸ And his compatriots dropped out of the international circuit: their percentage of papers presented slipped from eleven at Brussels to five per cent or less for the rest of the inter-war period.³⁹

What of France? Did she now command an enhanced place, in lieu of Germany, in a historians’ entente cordiale? Certainly we can see adjustments, including a decline in the earlier long-time British obsession with Napoleon, even if it was still in evidence at Creighton Lectures by Firth, as we have seen, and by Julian Corbett in 1922. In the Creighton Lecture for 1920, Tout stressed an ‘undercurrent of affinities’ throughout Anglo-French relations right up to the war, which derived from the common civilization of the Normans; this formed the nucleus of a series of lectures he later gave at Rennes.⁴⁰

France, at that juncture and in this context, meant above all Elie Halévy, whose links with Great Britain had burgeoned since the eighteen-nineties, and who himself, as he laboriously composed his Histoire du peuple anglais au XIXe siècle, meditated on the ‘national character’ of ‘unphilosophical’ and non-revolutionary England. ‘Les Anglais sont tous des brutes’: but, as he quickly adds, he meant brutes ‘in the most noble acceptance of the word’, for their incapacity to reflect, for their disdain of theories, for their frankness, etc. ‘L’Angleterre ... a donné à l’Europe des leçons de politique.’⁴¹ Halévy’s correspondence was mainly with Bertrand Russell, the Webbs and Graham Wallas (Creighton Lecturer in 1925, on the subject of Halévy’s beloved Bentham); although he evidently knew a range of historians too, and he received an Oxford honorary degree just when the peuple anglais was finally baring its teeth, during the General Strike.⁴² A direct result of new national committees generated by the C.I.S.H. were bilateral conferences held in London and Paris in 1933 and 1934 and involving the likes of Temperley and Webster, as well as Halévy.⁴³

Yet there was little reflection across La Manche of the greatest innovation in the French historiography of the day: the inception of the Annales. Lucien Febvre and Marc Bloch built on their links with Pirenne and other internationalists; whereas they made desultory and largely unavailing attempts to find British contributors and subscribers.⁴⁴ Even later their journal achieved only a slow, hesitant impact here.⁴⁵ This had to do with another weakness of our ‘European’ field. The newer economic and social school of analysis in Britain largely passed it by: from the days of William Cunningham and Sir William Ashley; through the Webbs and Hammonds and the establishment of the London School of Economics; to T. S. Ashton, R. H. Tawney, Eileen Power, J. H. Clapham and the floating of the Economic History Society and its Review in 1926–7.⁴⁶ Bloch did visit the United Kingdom in 1934 and met many of them; for example Tawney, listed as the only Briton among the initial fifty-two ‘collaborateurs’ of the Annales; and Clapham did deliver one thoughtful review for it.⁴⁷ Both were, of course, broad-based scholars, Tawney notable as a popularizer of the Weber thesis; but his Creighton Lecture of 1937, one of the most fertile in the series, set off a very English hare about the gentry. Clapham had also written on the French and German economies in the nineteenth century, and when he presented a Creighton Lecture, in autumn 1938, it dealt with the liberal policies, especially economic, of Elector Karl Ludwig in the Rhenish Palatinate after the Thirty Years’ War – a curious offering, and lacking any obvious apropos, seemingly a world away from the anxieties associated at that exact moment with those other old haunts of his Wittelsbach family, Berchtesgaden and Munich.

Elsewhere in inter-war Europe, I have the impression that British historiographical attentions were equally patchy. In respect of Italy a distinct decline seems to have taken place. Trevelyan moved away from the Garibaldians to rediscover Englishness: both his own and that of his native society and particularly of one of its iconic representatives, Edward Grey, by now Earl Grey of Fallodon.⁴⁸ Benedetto Croce was a good deal translated, and espoused by some on the philosophical wing of the profession, among them Ernest Barker, while principal of King’s College London. But study of the Renaissance reached a low ebb, as Hans Baron found when he arrived from Germany as a refugee and tried to propagate his novel ideas about it.⁴⁹ Much the same was true for Spain, in which little interest was shown after the death of its chief British specialist, Martin Hume, in 1910. Maybe Spain was just not ‘liberal’ enough.⁵⁰ The larger anglophone names, Roger B. Merriman and Earl J. Hamilton, were Americans; Britain had to make do with E. Allison Peers and Trevor Davies, neither of them mainstream historians.

The centre and east of the continent became a largely Slavonic preserve for British observers, focused on the new ‘successor’ nation-states, with Germany ostracized and the U.S.S.R. marginalized. A School of Slavonic and East European Studies (also initially at King’s College London) made modest progress under the limp and dysfunctional management of Pares and Seton-Watson, but the latter pressed the case for historians to attempt an assessment of recent events, as in his Creighton Lecture of 1928, while the eccentric Pares remained Britain’s authority on the Russian past until superseded by the more penetrating Humphrey Sumner.⁵¹ Talented younger scholars moved into the open terrain: Toynbee in the Balkans; C. A. Macartney for Austria and Hungary.⁵² Into this area too fell what later became probably the most densely commentated upon of all British conversions to the study of continental history. The young A. J. P. Taylor was recommended by his Oxford mentors to the diplomatic expert Alfred Francis Pribram in Vienna, initially to address an English topic; but there he went native and bought into local radical-liberal traditions in order to construct his later clever and incisive, but overly centralist and dismissive account of the last century of Habsburg government, as well as his objurgatory interpretations of the German past which we shall encounter again shortly.⁵³

It is not surprising, in light of all this, that the European idea or ideal itself made little headway in British historiography during the inter-war years. The Catholic medievalist and visionary Christopher Dawson, who issued his Making of Europe in 1932, stayed isolated.⁵⁴ Rather, a far more sceptical witness took centre stage. H. A. L. Fisher was capable of very broad and analytical views, as his Creighton Lecture of 1911 had shown, with its survey of forms of political association, ‘composite’ states, in Europe and beyond. But now his celebrated History of Europe of 1935 conveyed a very mixed message: it notoriously announced ‘no rhythm [or] predetermined pattern ... only one emergency following upon another as wave follows upon wave’.⁵⁵ A quixotic Oxford University Press venture entitled European Civilization: its Origin and Development was simultaneously designed to trace ‘the rise of Europe and distinctive character of European civilization’ in seven volumes and no fewer than 7,820 pages. Its dates, 1934–9, help to explain why it sank without trace.

***

The Second World War had an impact upon our subject similar to that of its predecessor, only less dramatic, since the co-ordinates were already established. On the one hand, it reasserted some historians’ public or quasi-public roles. Again Webster and Woodward were to the fore, both involved with European aspects of the official British history of the conflict. But now there was a wider picture too. In the immediate aftermath of the war we find Webster characteristically instructing a Creighton audience on the circumstances of the creation of the United Nations, while Toynbee issued a prophetic and cogent plea for ‘global’ history in the same forum twelve months later.

On the other hand, 1945 saw the culmination of a renewed anti-German mood, most conspicuous in Taylor’s ill-judged new Course of German History. The auguries did not look good for any restoration of the special relationship of Creighton’s day, even if Gooch (once again) sought to act as intermediary, for instance helping to get Meinecke back to his chair in Berlin, and humouring Ritter.⁵⁶ The latter, despite repeated translation of his work into English at this time and a whistle-stop tour of universities in 1949 (organized by Ernest Barker), never came to terms with British attitudes towards his heroes – Luther, Frederick the Great, Bismarck, Goerdeler.⁵⁷ As late as 1973 Taylor (‘an impudent [schnoddriger] semi-journalist’, in Ritter’s view) used the occasion of a Creighton Lecture, in an otherwise shrewd, concise analysis of the pattern of events from 1939 to 1945, for an infamous outburst: ‘Only after the war did it become clear that the gas chambers of Osiewic [sic] represented German civilization as truly as Gothic cathedrals represented the civilization of the Middle Ages.’ (It is typical perhaps of his attitude to lands further east that he wanted to render ‘Auschwitz’ into Polish – but got it wrong.)⁵⁸ By that time Taylor, like Trevelyan before him, had anyway withdrawn from serious professional interest in the continent of Europe.

Meanwhile two new tendencies were afoot after 1945 which complemented and partly countervailed existing British attitudes to the continental past. The first was the impact of émigrés. It is hard to overestimate their importance for our theme in the United Kingdom (even if far larger numbers of them settled in the U.S.A. and transformed the discipline there still more completely).⁵⁹ Whatever the (very mixed) feelings of incomers about the circumstances of their transferral here and the nature of their reception, they tended to remain concretely and inescapably ‘European’. Of course, there had already been emigrants much earlier. At the very beginning of the century Pavel Gavrilovich (= Sir Paul) Vinogradoff had evaded the constraints of the late tsarist universities to build up a legal history school at Oxford and deliver one of the first Creighton Lectures.⁶⁰ Then came Ludwik Niemirowski, from the then Austrian province of Galicia. Lewis Namier – for this was he! – is famous more for the compensation mechanism whereby he turned into a chronicler of English landed society, but he never abandoned a critical engagement with his central European past and retained strong views about it. Think of his venomous sketch of the 1848 revolutionaries there.⁶¹ Namier’s Creighton Lecture of 1952 is in the same vein: slight and comparatively underpowered, but of interest for returning to the issue of ‘linguistic nationality’ (as he calls it) and its drastic consequences in the Habsburg lands – as well as for reminding us how far he encouraged Taylor’s ideas, not just on Austria, since Namier’s lecture almost reads like a trailer for the Struggle for Mastery in Europe, which appeared two years later. Between the wars two further exiles from the same general area stayed on and gave Creighton Lectures decades after their arrival: Mikhail Moissey Postan, from today’s Moldova, another who became par excellence a historian of (mostly medieval) England; and the Riga-born Isaiah Berlin, who in the 1971 lecture evoked that guru of the nineteen-hundreds, and of the nineteen-sixties, and the Halévys’ family friend, Georges Sorel.⁶²

Other authoritarian regimes exported to the United Kingdom only individual historians, and often on a temporary basis: examples are Salvador de Madariaga and Gaetano Salvemini. Nazism, however, delivered a raft of highly cultured and versatile Jewish refugees from central Europe who made their academic careers here after 1945. Here is a selection, in order of birth: Walter Ullmann, F. L. Carsten, Nicolai Rubinstein, H. G. Koenigsberger, Karl Leyser, Gottfried Ehrenberg, Werner Mosse, Edgar Feuchtwanger, A. F. Pollard, E. P. Hennock, J. A. S. Grenville, Peter Pulzer.⁶³ And whereas Ehrenberg, who renamed himself Geoffrey Elton, followed Namier’s fascination with the making of English political traditions, on the whole the newcomers formed a bond to the Continent and devoted much of their energy to foreign history. Only one of this cohort gave a Creighton Lecture, and he was not a mainstream historian. In his lecture Viennese-born art critic Ernst Gombrich vividly shared his insights into what he alleged to be ‘the only [historical] subject in which I had really specialized’: Nazi wartime propaganda, the ‘imposition of a paranoiac pattern on world events’, which he had been employed to monitor for the British intelligence services at Caversham.⁶⁴

Evidently the circumstances which had caused this tide of immigration and then belligerence continued to excite attention within the host nation. It issued in renowned investigations into Hitler’s personal role by Hugh Trevor-Roper and Alan Bullock;⁶⁵ and it was reflected in other Creighton Lectures. In 1968 W. N. Medlicott gave a detached but lively presentation of nineteen-thirties diplomacy, finding no clear ‘doves’ or ‘hawks’ in Whitehall.⁶⁶ Later the German challenges of the nineteen-hundreds and the nineteen-thirties were used as exemplars, in an elegant, urbane and thoughtful Creighton Lecture by Michael Howard, to illustrate the causes of wars (whereas earlier ages, like Creighton’s, as he notes, had been more drawn to examine the causes of stability). That chimed in with an earlier Creighton Lecture: that by G. N. Clark in the wake of 1945, which reviewed the long pedigree but doubtful cogency of cyclical theories of war and peace as linked to the alternation of poverty and plenty. Clark’s chief witness was actually a sixteenth-century German chronicler, Michael von Eitzing; and it was ironically German studies that were to benefit most from the influx of immigrant scholars. Once these had fully found their feet, there took place a rapid re-engagement with central Europe, by contrast with the experience after 1918. A striking case is that of Franz Ludwig, later Francis, Carsten, historian of the Old Reich and its institutions, of Prussia and its society, of working-class movements in Germany and Austria, and of fascism across the whole area, who from 1961 occupied the country’s only university chair which was expressly mitteleuropäisch.⁶⁷ By 1976 the German government moved to recognize the critical mass of such research with the establishment of the German Historical Institute in London, one of the most conspicuously productive and successful organizations of its kind.⁶⁸ Britain’s own German History Society expanded rapidly from small beginnings in the early nineteen-eighties.

A rapprochement with Germany, or most of it, was crucial for the second novel formation in this post-war landscape: the partial realization of the European idea, shaped by the dictates of the Cold War and the beginnings of economic integration, along with its intellectual roots on the Continent which rested mainly in the resurgent Christian Democracy of the day. As such the ‘making of Europe’ still lay closest to Dawson, who stood on the edge of the British historical guild; and there was little immediate sign of any wider enthusiasm. Denys Hay contributed an innovative investigation into the Renaissance origins of the concept of ‘Europe’, which appeared in the same year as the Treaty of Rome;⁶⁹ and Oxford gave an honorary degree to Federico Chabod, who in the fifties not only embodied the European movement within the profession at large, but also represented the cosmopolitan face of Italian historical scholarship, in direct succession to Croce, and was the main organizer of the 1955 international congress held in Rome. Yet Chabod appears to have had no close links with Britain, and serious involvement from these islands in the C.I.S.H. was left to Webster and a few others.⁷⁰ Evidently all this anyway long remained a Western enterprise; and few apart from the erratic Geoffrey Barraclough seem to have thought in a coherent way about a Europe beyond the conventional boundaries of our near neighbours until much later, until the nineteen-nineties in fact.⁷¹

One talismanic endeavour deserves to be recalled, an initiative of Dawson’s one-time teacher, Ernest Barker, by now Sir Ernest. The three volumes entitled The European Inheritance were an overdue outcome in 1954 of wartime co-operation on an Allied Books Commission, with authors from both sides of the Channel. However, they also bore the stamp of their chief commissioner and editor, and acted as a belated extension of ‘Englishness’ and whiggism to the Continent, since Barker continued to be another foremost proponent of the notion of national character and the particular English contribution to civilization.⁷² The book hardly did better than its fellow O.U.P. product of the nineteen-thirties, described above. Even larger, but better focused and in more traditional mould, was the Cambridge relaunch of the (New) Cambridge Modern History, conceived by Clark and Herbert Butterfield in 1945, on the premise that ‘the accepted idea of general history has changed’, and appearing between 1957 (that date again!) and 1979.⁷³ Alongside it the same press issued a still more protracted series as a kind of companion, whose title marks another phase in the development of my topic: the Cambridge Economic History of Europe.

***

The European Economic Community represented one element in the new thinking from the nineteen-fifties to the nineteen-seventies. These were decades of the dominance of economic and related forms of social history: boom years for the Economic History Society (which numbered some 5,000 members) and its Review, with their wider role in galvanizing the discipline.⁷⁴ They were often associated with the new political left, which was heavily influenced by continental thinkers, above all Marx, and generated powerful commentaries on his philosophy of history by Maurice Dobb and later Perry Anderson.⁷⁵ Past & Present, which began as a house journal of the more radical thinkers, was avowedly international. The Cambridge Economic History of Europe, a remarkably comprehensive and cosmopolitan venture, had originally been conceived by Clapham and Power, and was later taken over especially by Postan, whose work included a vigorous sideline in analysis of the post-1945 European economic transformation.⁷⁶ A collaborator was Sidney Pollard, originally Siegfried Pollak from Vienna, who moved towards European themes later in his career (which included a post in Germany for a time).⁷⁷ Others ranged from W. O. Henderson, the orthodox analyst of German industrial development, to the card-carrying Communist, George Rudé, who addressed the psychology of the French masses. Longest-lived and increasingly best-known of this generation, Eric Hobsbawm excelled with a trilogy on nineteenth-century Europe issued from the nineteen-sixties to the nineteen-eighties which at last saw off, even from remoter library shelves, some of those dated textbooks of a much earlier era.⁷⁸

But we should beware of generalizing from these examples, many of them émigrés. On the whole, British-based economic and social history long stuck to study of the United Kingdom, in the traditions of earlier pioneers of labour history, fortified by suspicion of the ‘capitalist club’ being floated across the Channel. Past & Present was certainly no sectarian mouthpiece, but its initial programmatic statement (1952) skipped Europe entirely, to announce a yet wider agenda of ‘Indian, Chinese, Arab, African [and] Latin-American history’.⁷⁹ Donald Coleman, surveying for his Creighton Lecture in 1989 the subject which had always been central to his colleagues, subversively showed that the term ‘Industrial Revolution’ (commonly employed tout court, like the queen’s head on a stamp, on the assumption that it referred to Britain) was originally a continental one, and had long and regularly been used in an adverse sense, until caught up in nostalgia for the heritage of British manufactures and in Thatcherite enthusiasm for entrepreneurs. When Britain’s participation in the C.I.S.H. bureau revived, its representative was Theo Barker, another economic historian, but one whose work maintained an exclusively English focus, from London Transport to Pilkington Glass.

Whereas earlier the whole reaction against ‘scientific’ history may have involved some retreat from a ‘European’ perspective (as with Trevelyan or Butterfield),⁸⁰ now when debates on techniques themselves took over, the British patch usually appeared self-sufficient. Not until Tim Mason’s work in the nineteen-seventies did these debates prove much of an export commodity.⁸¹ Meanwhile, however, traditional, pragmatic, highly empirical approaches were proving more significant overall and yielded rich achievements by British historians in reinterpretations of individual foreign countries. They are underrepresented in the Creighton Lectures, and I cannot offer more than a roll call of a few, but it is the phenomenon itself which deserves outline attention for our present purposes. In respect of France, institutional props remained exiguous: bilateral Anglo-French meetings tailed off, although they did yield a major gathering and published collection in the late nineteen-seventies on themes of mutual concern, introduced from the French side by François Crouzet with reflections a little like those of Tout sixty years before.⁸² Meanwhile the field was being transformed here, above all by those near-homophones, Cobban and Cobb, alike deeply versed in primary sources and undermining ideological understandings of French history, especially for the revolutionary period, in their very different ways.⁸³ Both inspired a further generation of pupils (through to the Creighton Lecture of 2006, given by Olwen Hufton); as did their near-contemporary, Douglas Johnson, Crouzet’s old confederate, who in the 1990 lecture treated a topic, the Vichy regime, to which British historians have made very notable contributions over recent years.⁸⁴

The equivalent for Italy would be the iconoclastic but gracious oeuvre of Denis Mack Smith, who likewise established himself as the most authoritative expositor of major themes in the national history. For Spain it must suffice to cite, as pars pro toto, J. H. Elliott’s Creighton Lecture of 1991 about the domestic debate there between spokesmen for providentialist versus subversive views of Iberian empire, culminating in the key contest of the earlier seventeenth century on which he had already written so authoritatively.⁸⁵ On Sweden, Michael Roberts also used a Creighton occasion back in 1965 to illustrate his analytic power with a model lecture on ‘aristocratic constitutionalism’: an important theme, a broad range, a clear and cogent argument, meticulous but stylish, invoking comparisons (why did Sweden produce ‘no Bate and Cony, Prynne or Lilburne’, no ‘village Hampdens’, no Bouillon, no Montmorency, no Condé?), but viewing Scandinavia very much in its own terms.⁸⁶ There grew up a new professionalism in Seton-Watson’s old area too: from Macartney, underrated grandmaster of several different genres in the history of Austria and Hungary, to Norman Davies on Poland, and including the remarkable dissections of the eighteenth-century Habsburg state by Peter Dickson and Derek Beales in the nineteen-eighties.⁸⁷

Most striking of all was the case of the Soviet Union. After the post-war refloating of the School of Slavonic and East European Studies, the greatest British figure in Russian historiography formed no part of it. E. H. Carr was controversial (is that why he gave no Creighton Lecture?): a radical liberal of the salon kind, but also an establishment figure – ex-diplomat and deputy editor of The Times. Decisive for Carr’s scholarly career was the Soviet Revolution and the (as he put it) ‘narrow, blind and stupid’ reaction to this of the West; then in years at the British embassy in Riga he laid the roots of his erudition on Russian culture. He resolved to write a history of Soviet Russia when the Red Army invaded Poland in 1944, completing just over one volume per Bolshevik year to reach 1929 before his death in 1982.⁸⁸ It is a progressive, purposive view of history; but at all events unrivalled in scope and execution, even if Carr’s subject-matter now looks very different. The same could be said about Hobsbawm’s, and was said by him, very candidly, in a Creighton Lecture given in the aftermath of the collapse of the Soviet Union, when he reflected on some of the issues of the ‘history of the present’ which had earlier exercised Seton-Watson or Webster, and admitted that ‘much of my life ... was devoted to a ... cause which has plainly failed: the Communism initiated by the October Revolution’.⁸⁹

I hope I have not dwelled too much on the legacy of 1907 in my stray centenary reflections. In covering, all too briefly, the developing relationship of British historians to Europe (with Creighton addresses adduced as seemed appropriate), I have concentrated on intellectual trends. Alongside these, we must naturally remember some practical and material considerations, which would deserve mapping in their own right. Excellent library collections for ‘general’ history have been built up in Britain on generous nineteenth-century foundations: the acquisition policy evolved by Anthony Panizzi at the British Library and the extraordinary resources assembled by Acton for Cambridge University Library are leading examples. More recently, and particularly since the nineteen-fifties, access to continental archives and the like has much improved. Research fields are related to the job market in ways that could not be explored here: suffice it to recall the high valuation placed on history (over most of the period) as an unfettered and liberal education at British universities, and the absence of much explicit or institutionalized ‘national history’, precisely because it was so taken for granted and needed no special provision. Another issue is the changing prospects for learning of modern foreign languages. On the whole, the Creighton century was an age of linguistic openness, long based on the classical heritage, increasingly transferred to modern tongues; but nowadays the threat to this is severe, with communication coming to rest more and more on the ability and willingness of others to present their findings in English. That has gone with the modest beginnings of career interaction: first of all, perhaps, just fifty years ago with the post in Dutch history at University College London, where E. H. Kossmann lectured between 1957 and 1966, the springboard for his later activities in the United Kingdom, including a Creighton Lecture in 1987, which focused tightly on the Netherlands’ failure to invent the modern world just two centuries earlier.⁹⁰ Lately we have discovered the world of Euro-funding, with its stock requirements of a foreign dimension, albeit maybe nothing more than a token Latvian or Portuguese.

Yet both the conscious attitudes of individual scholars, and these features of the working environment for the profession, themselves rested on certain deeper assumptions. ‘Englishness’ and British exceptionalism were hardy survivals within the guild, long after 1945. One scholar widely perceived to embody them was Butterfield, a central figure in the post-war years: his own Creighton Lecture of 1961 is remarkably dense and self-contained, reverting to the old chestnut of Britain and Napoleon, and dealing with a kind of non-subject, the abortive peace negotiations of 1806. However, a fondness for the ‘English national character’, and the separateness of English national history, proved compatible with European interests, in Creighton and later. Perhaps it could actually aid exploration of other continental cultures and societies on their own terms, and without cross-channel linkages? The Continent was different: that yielded scope for investigations which could be pursued without reference to the (ineffable) homeland. They certainly were not value-free, but the values themselves might be fruitfully employed elsewhere.

One such was the export of empiricism, largely untroubled by the presuppositions of practitioners in the target-country about their own history, and backed by a high self-estimation of British matter-of-factness, enhanced when the long apprenticeship to German Geschichtswissenschaft turned sour. Individualism too – another complacent self-ascription – did yield dividends in unchaperoned access to new territories abroad. European horizons, I have suggested, were as a rule loosely associated with liberal positions, rather than conservative or socialist enterprises, or with any strident political agenda on the home front. At the same time, domestic concerns could give rise to benefits when they stimulated fresh exploration of other people’s pasts and the application to them of new kinds of conceptual grid: as with C. V. Wedgwood’s masterly writing on the Thirty Years’ War against a background of international affairs in the nineteen-thirties, or the British contribution to the German Sonderweg debate in the nineteen-eighties, informed as it was by a reaction against whig presuppositions at home.⁹¹ And then there was empire. Increasingly Europe stood at a distance from the imperial embrace, but there were synergies too. Continental studies could be favoured by the larger perspectives which imperial traditions inculcated. An ‘imperialist’ mentality gave scope for serious attention to foreign events, while at the same time rendering a merely comparative approach otiose: it had, after all, sent informed, reasonably dispassionate observers to view the rituals and usages of others, like Creighton as a kibitzer at the coronation of Tsar Nicholas, and in his deep intellectual intercourse with Pobedonostsev.

And finally, the want of much British commitment to Europe as an idea, of any mission to faire l’Europe, may also have helped with lesser objectives. Such sense of the whole as British historians possessed tended merely to form part of an abstract superstructure which detained few in their research activities, although it may have helped some in their anatomy of broader ‘continental’ movements or phenomena, such as the Enlightenment (for Cobban, say) or ‘absolutism’, in J. H. Burns’s neat and cogent examination of its limits in a Creighton Lecture in 1986. I have the strong impression that British writing on the history of different – but usually discrete – parts of the rest of Europe bulks considerably larger over the entire Creighton century than research in the other direction. That is, of course, a further and separate issue, and as yet largely uncharted terrain. If true, it should give us pause. Would any of our continental neighbours have run such a series for 100 years with so many forays into foreign parts, yet without attracting a single paper on any aspect of the subject of Europe’s own collective past?

Appendix: Creighton Lectures, 1907–2019⁹²

(date indicates start of the academic year in which a lecture was held)

1907 Thomas Hodgkin, The Wardens of the Northern Marches (pub. 1908)

1908 G. W. Prothero, ‘The arrival of Napoleon III’ [unpub.]

1909 J. B. Bury, The Constitution of the Later Roman Empire (pub. 1910)

1910 F. J. Haverfield, ‘Greek and Roman town-planning’; expanded into his Ancient Town-Planning (1913)

1911 H. A. L. Fisher, Political Unions (pub. 1911)

1912 Paul Vinogradoff, ‘Constitutional history and the year books’, Law Quarterly Review, xxix (1913), 273–84

1913 R. B. Haldane, The Meaning of Truth in History (pub. 1914)

1914 James Bryce, Race Sentiment as a Factor in History (pub. 1915)

1915 J. W. Fortescue, ‘England at war in three centuries’ [unpub.?]

1916 A. F. Pollard, ‘The growth of an imperial parliament’, History, i (1916–17), 129–46

1917 C. H. Firth, Then and Now, or a Comparison between the War with Napoleon and the Present War (pub. 1917)

1918 Gilbert Murray, Aristophanes and the War Party: a Study in the Contemporary Criticism of the Peloponnesian War (pub. 1919)

1919 G. M. Trevelyan, The War and the European Revolution in Relation to History (pub. 1920)

1920 T. F. Tout, ‘England and France in the 14th century and now’; expanded into his France and England: their Relations in the Middle Ages and Now (1922)

1921 Julian Corbett, ‘Napoleon and the British Navy after Trafalgar’, Quarterly Review, ccxxxvii (1922), 238–55

1922 Charles Oman, ‘Historical perspective’; cf. his On the Writing of History (1939), pp. 76ff.

1923 G. P. Gooch, Franco-German Relations, 1867–1914 (pub. 1923)

1924 W. S. Holdsworth, The Influence of the Legal Profession on the Growth of the English Constitution (pub. 1924)

1925 Graham Wallas, ‘Bentham as political inventor’, Contemporary Review, cxxix (1926), 308–19

1926 C. W. Alvord, ‘The significance of the new interpretation of Georgian politics’ [unpub.?]

1927 C. Grant Robertson, History and Citizenship (pub. 1928)

1928 R. W. Seton-Watson, ‘A plea for the study of contemporary history’, History, xiv (1929–30), 1–18

1929 ‘E. Barber’ [?= Ernest Barker], ‘Political ideas in Boston during the American Revolution’ [unpub.?]

1930 Henri Pirenne, ‘La révolution belge de 1830’ [unpub.]

1931 Edward Jenks, ‘History and the historical novel’, The Hibbert Journal, Jan. 1932

1932 F. M. Powicke, ‘Pope Boniface VIII’, History, xviii (1933–4), 307–29

1933 N. H. Baynes, ‘The Byzantine imperial ideal’ [unpub.?]

1934 A. P. Newton, ‘The West Indies in international politics, 1550–1850’, History, xix (1934– 5), 193–207, 302–10

1935 F. M. Stenton, ‘The road system of medieval England’, Economic History Review, vii (1936–7), 1–21

1936 Charles Peers, ‘History in the making’, History, xxi (1936–7), 302–16

1937 R. H. Tawney, ‘The economic advance of the squirearchy in the two generations before the civil war’; cf. his ‘Rise of the gentry, 1558–1640’, Economic History Review, xi (1941), 1–38

1938 J. H. Clapham, ‘Charles Louis, Elector Palatine, 1617–80: an early experiment in liberalism’, Economica, new ser., vii (1940), 381–96

[NO LECTURES 1939–45]

1946 C. K. Webster, ‘The making of the charter of the United Nations’, History, xxxii (1947), 16–38

1947 A. Toynbee, ‘The unification of the world and the change in historical perspective’, History, xxxiii (1948), 1–28

1948 G. N. Clark, The Cycle of War and Peace in Modern History (pub. 1949)

1949 V. H. Galbraith, Historical Research in Medieval England (pub. 1951)

1950 J. E. Neale, The Elizabethan Age (pub. 1951)

1951 E. F. Jacob, Henry Chichele and the Ecclesiastical Politics of his Age (pub. 1952)

1952 Lewis Namier, Basic Factors in 19th-Century European History (pub. 1953)

1953 T. F. T. Plucknett, The Mediaeval Bailiff (pub. 1954)

1954 H. Hale Bellot, Woodrow Wilson (pub. 1955)

1955 Keith Hancock, The Smuts Papers (pub. 1956)

1956 M. D. Knowles, Cardinal Gasquet as an Historian (pub. 1957)

1957 J. G. Edwards, The Commons in Medieval English Parliaments (pub. 1958)

1958 Lucy S. Sutherland, The City of London and the Opposition to Government, 1768–74: a Study in the Rise of Metropolitan Radicalism (pub. 1959)

1959 Steven Runciman, The Families of Outremer: the Feudal Nobility of the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem, 1099–1291 (pub. 1960)

1960 Lillian Penson, Foreign Affairs under the Third Marquis of Salisbury (pub. 1962)

1961 Herbert Butterfield, Charles James Fox and Napoleon: the Peace Negotiations of 1806 (pub. 1962)

1962 R. R. Darlington, The Norman Conquest (pub. 1963)

1963 Ronald Syme, ‘Caesar: drama, legend, personality’ [unpub.?]

1964 R. A. Humphreys, Tradition and Revolt in Latin America (pub. 1965)

1965 Michael Roberts, On Aristocratic Constitutionalism in Swedish History, 1520–1720 (pub. 1966)

1966 R. W. Southern, ‘England and the continent in the twelfth century’; cf. his Medieval Humanism and Other Studies (1970), pp. 135–57

1967 A. H. M. Jones, ‘The caste system in the later Roman empire’ [unpub.?]

1968 W. N. Medlicott, Britain and Germany: the Search for Agreement, 1930–7 (pub. 1969)

1969 E. H. Gombrich, Myth and Reality in German War-time Broadcasts (pub. 1970)

1970 Philip Grierson, The Origins of Money (pub. 1977)

1971 Isaiah Berlin, ‘Georges Sorel [Harbinger of the Storm]’, in Essays in Honour of E. H. Carr, ed. C. Abramsky (1974), pp. 3–35

1972 C. H. Philips, The Young Wellington in India (pub. 1973)

1973 A. J. P. Taylor, The Second World War (pub. 1974)

1974 F. J. Fisher, ‘Labour in the economy of Stuart England’ [unpub.]

1975 Owen Chadwick, Acton and Gladstone (pub. 1976)

1976 A. Blunt, ‘Illusionism in Baroque architecture’ [unpub.?]

1977 M. M. Postan, ‘The English rural labourer in the later middle ages’ [unpub.]

1978 Joel Hurstfield, The Illusion of Power in Tudor Politics (pub. 1979)

1979 Joseph Needham, The Guns of Kaifêng-fu: China’s Development of Man’s First Chemical Explosive (pub. 1979)

1980 A. Momigliano, ‘The origins of universal history’, Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, ser. 3, xii (1982), 533–60

1981 Michael Howard, The Causes of Wars (pub. 1981)

1982 Ragnhild M. Hatton, The Anglo-Hanoverian Connection, 1714–60 (pub. 1983)

1983 Keith Thomas, The Perception of the Past in Early Modern England (pub. 1983)

1984 W. G. Beasley, The Nature of Japanese Imperialism (pub. 1985)

1985 M. H. Keen, Some Late Medieval Views on Nobility (pub. 1985)

1986 J. H. Burns, Absolutism: the History of an Idea (pub. 1986)

1987 E. H. Kossmann, 1787: the Collapse of the Patriot Movement and the Problem of Dutch Decline (pub. 1988)

1988 H. R. Loyn, The ‘Matter of Britain’: a Historian’s Perspective (pub. 1989)

1989 D. C. Coleman, Myth, History and the Industrial Revolution (pub. 1989)

1990 Douglas Johnson, ‘Occupation and collaboration: the conscience of France’ [unpub.?]

1991 J. H. Elliott, Illusion and Disillusionment: Spain and the Indies (pub. 1992)

1992 I. Nish, The Uncertainties of Isolation: Japan between the Wars (pub. 1993)

1993 E. J. Hobsbawm, The Present as History: Writing the History of One’s Own Times (pub. 1993)

1994 P. J. Marshall, Imperial Britain (pub. 1994)

1995 James Campbell, ‘European economic development in the eleventh century: an English case-study’ [unpub.?]

1996 Averil Cameron, ‘Byzantium: why do we need it?’ [unpub.?]

1997 E. Le Roy Ladurie, ‘The history of the book in France, 1460–1970’ [unpub.?]

1998 Peter Clarke, ‘The rise and fall of Thatcherism’, Historical Research, lxxii (1999), 301–22

1999 John Gillingham, ‘Civilizing the English? The English histories of William of Malmesbury and David Hume’, Historical Research, lxxiv (2001), 17–43

2000 Jessica Rawson, ‘The power of images: the model universe of the First Emperor and its legacy’, Historical Research, lxxv (2002), 123–54

2001 Shula Marks, ‘Class, culture and consciousness: the experience of Black South Africans, c.1870–1920’ [unpub.?]

2002 Patrick Collinson, ‘Elizabeth I and the verdicts of history’, Historical Research, lxxvi (2003), 469–91

2003 J. G. A. Pocock, ‘The politics of historiography’, Historical Research, lxxviii (2005), 1–14

2004 R. I. Moore, ‘The war against heresy in medieval Europe’, Historical Research, lxxxi (2008), 189–210

2005 R. F. Foster, ‘“Changed Utterly”? Transformation and continuity in late twentieth-century Ireland’, Historical Research, lxxx (2007), 419–41

2006 Olwen Hufton, ‘Faith, hope and money: the Jesuits and the genesis of educational fundraising, 1550–1650’, Historical Research, lxxxi (2008), 585–609.

2007 R. J. W. Evans, ‘The Creighton century: British historians and Europe, 1907–2007’, Historical Research, lxxxii (2009), 320–9

2008 Chris Wickham, ‘Medieval assembly. The culture of the public: assembly politics and the feudal revolution’

2009 Robert Service, ‘Russia since 1917 in Western mirrors’

2010 Tim Blanning, ‘The Holy Roman Empire of the German nation past and present’, Historical Research, lxxxv (2012), 57–70

2011 Catherine Hall, ‘Macaulay and son: an imperial story’

2012 Quentin Skinner, ‘John Milton as a theorist of liberty’

2013 Lisa Jardine, ‘Meeting my own history coming back: Jacob Bronowski’s MI5 files’

2014 Richard J. Evans, ‘Was the ‘Final Solution’ unique? Reflections on twentieth-century genocides’

2015 Margaret MacMillan, ‘The outbreak of the First World War: why the debate goes on’

2016 John Darwin, ‘The globe, the sea and the city: port cities and globalisation in the long nineteenth century’

2017 Miri Rubin, ‘Strangers in medieval cities’

2018 Richard Vinen, ‘When was Thatcherism?’

2019 No lecture

____________

* This is the lightly modified text of an address given at King’s College London on 26 Nov. 2007, in celebration of the centenary of the Creighton Lectures. A list of all of them is supplied as an appendix (see pp. 25–8). For that reason, I shall not give further bibliographical references for those mentioned in this article. Some of the ideas in what follows were first sketched out in my ‘Europa in der britischen Historiographie’, in Nationale Geschichtskulturen. Bilanz, Ausstrahlung, Europabezogenheit, ed. H. Duchhardt (Mainz/Stuttgart, 2006), pp. 77–93. I remain very grateful for the invitation from the Mainz Institut für Europäische Geschichte and Akademie der Wissenschaft und der Literatur which allowed me to think them through.

This article was first published in Historical Research, lxxxii (2009), 320–39. The editors would like to thank Professor Evans for his kind permission to reproduce it here.

¹ Hodgkin, Wardens, prefatory note; University of London, minutes of academic council, 28 Jan., 11 March, 25 March, 29 May, 3 July 1907. I am most grateful to Jane Winters for help with this source.

² M. Creighton, ‘The English national character’, Historical Lectures and Addresses, ed. L. Creighton (1903), pp. 213–40.

³ M. Creighton, A History of the Papacy during the Period of the Reformation (5 vols., 1882–94), i, pp. v (preface), 3.

⁴ O. Chadwick, Creighton on Luther (Cambridge, 1959).

⁵ Eng. Hist. Rev., i (1886), 1–6.

⁶ L. H. Creighton, Life and Letters of Mandell Creighton (2 vols., 1904), ii. 146–62; also M. Creighton, Historical Essays and Reviews (1902), pp. 297–329. J. T. Covert, A Victorian Marriage: Mandell and Louise Creighton (2000), pp. 243–7. Creighton’s MS. Moscow diary and correspondence are hereafter cited as ‘Creighton papers’. For Pobedonostsev, see Creighton papers, Mandell to Louise, ‘Whitsunday’ 1896.

⁷ C. Parker, The English Historical Tradition since 1850 (Edinburgh, 1990); Geschichtsschreibung im 20. Jahrhundert: Neuzeithistoriographie und Geschichtsdenken im westlichen Europa und in den USA, ed. G. Lozek (Berlin, 1998), pp. 47–112; I. I. Sharifzhanov, Angliiskaia istoriografia v 20. veke. Osnovnie teoretiko-metodologicheskie tendentsii, shkoli i napravleniya (Kazan, 2004) is from the same stable. History and Historians in the 20th Century, ed. P. Burke (Oxford, 2002) covers some themes, but not this one. Latest is M. Bentley, Modernizing England’s Past: English Historiography in the Age of Modernism, 1870– 1970 (Cambridge, 2005).

⁸ Creighton, Life and Letters, ii. 203ff.

⁹ E. Armstrong, The Emperor Charles V (2 vols., 1902); cf. The Histories of Emperor Charles V: Nationale Perspektiven von Persönlichkeit und Herrschaft, ed. C. Scott Dixon and M. Fuchs (Münster, 2005), pp. 185–6.

¹⁰ For Creighton’s first visits to Italy as a young tutor, see Creighton, Life and Letters, i. 69ff., 133, 139. G. M. Trevelyan, Garibaldi’s Defence of the Roman Republic, 1848–9 (1907); G. M. Trevelyan, Garibaldi and the Thousand (1909); G. M. Trevelyan, Garibaldi and the Making of Italy (1911).

¹¹ Cf. esp. C. H. Firth, Modern Languages at Oxford, 1724–1929 (Oxford, 1929).

¹² M. Hughes, ‘Bernard Pares, Russian studies and the promotion of Anglo-Russian friendship, 1907–14’, Slavonic and East European Rev., lxxviii (2000), 510–35; ‘Scotus Viator’ [= R. W. Seton-Watson], The Future of Austria-Hungary and the Attitude of the Great Powers (1907); J. D. Fair, Harold Temperley: a Scholar and Romantic in the Public Realm (Newark, Del., 1992), pp. 65ff.

¹³ G. Volpe, Storici e maestri (2nd edn., Florence, 1967); K. D. Erdmann, Die Ökumene der Historiker: Geschichte der Internationalen Historikerkongresse und des comité international des sciences historiques (Göttingen, 1987), pp. 86–96.

¹⁴ T. F. Tout, Collected Papers (3 vols., Manchester, 1932–4), i. 96.

¹⁵ Creighton, Life and Letters, i. 176, 202-3, 209-10, ii. 99, 103, 141; Creighton papers, Grey to Creighton, 29 May 1885; Creighton to Grey, 25 Oct. 1899. K. Robbins, Sir Edward Grey: a Biography of Lord Grey of Fallodon (1971), pp. 15, 19ff., 126-7 and passim.

¹⁶ Creighton, ‘English national character’, at pp. 221, 224, 231. ‘“National character is the abiding product of a nation’s past”, comme vous avez très bien dit et expliqué dans votre discours que je viens de recevoir et de lire avec le plus grand intérêt’ (Creighton papers, Pobedonostsev to Creighton, Moscow 9/21 July 1896). Creighton was, however, far from consistent on the point. At different times he declared that ‘we [the British] do not recognize differences of civilization, modes of thought, above all conceptions of freedom’, but also that ‘we have not at any time been swayed by the general ideas which have prevailed on the Continent’ (Creighton, Life and Letters, ii. 173; Creighton, ‘English national character’, p. 220).

¹⁷ K. Dockhorn, Der deutsche Historismus in England. Ein Beitrag zur englischen Geistesgeschichte des 19. Jahrhunderts (Göttingen, 1950); M. Messerschmidt, Deutschland in englischer Sicht. Die Wandlungen des Deutschlandbildes in der englischen Geschichtsschreibung (Düsseldorf, 1955), pp. 26–41; C. E. McClelland, The German Historians and England: a Study in 19th-Century Views (Cambridge, 1971); J. Campbell, P. Bahners and J. Burrow, in British and German Historiography, 1750–1950, ed. B. Stuchtey and P. Wende (Oxford, 2000), pp. 114ff., 123ff., 255ff.

¹⁸ W. Stubbs, Seventeen Lectures on the Study of Mediaeval and Modern History (1887), pp. 1–28, at pp. 10ff.

¹⁹ Eng. Hist. Rev., i (1886), 7–42; Creighton, Life and Letters, i. 339.

²⁰ Volpe; B. Lyon, Henri Pirenne: a Biographical and Intellectual Study (Ghent, 1974), pp. 60 ff. Firth and Tout, in Proceedings of the British Academy, vi (1913–14), 139–66.

²¹ For Louise, see J. T. Covert, ‘Creighton, Louise’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (Oxford, 2004) <http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/38640> [accessed 15 Sept. 2008]; cf. Memoir of a Victorian Woman: Reflections of Louise Creighton, 1850–1936, ed. J. T. Covert (Bloomington, Ind., 1994).

²² Dockhorn, pp. 167-8; Chadwick; Creighton, Life and Letters, ii. 404-5, 417-18.

²³ F. Eyck, G. P. Gooch: a Study in History and Politics (1982). K. A. von Müller, Aus Gärten der Vergangenheit. Erinnerungen, 1882–1914 (Stuttgart, 1951), pp. 297–398.

²⁴ McClelland, pp. 161–236.

²⁵ Examples in Bentley, pp. 36n., 56.

²⁶ A. W. Ward, Germany, 1815–90 (3 vols., Cambridge, 1916–18); J. A. R. Marriott and C. Grant Robertson, The Evolution of Prussia: the Making of an Empire (Oxford, 1915); C. Grant Robertson, Bismarck (1918). Cf. Messerschmidt, pp. 80–2, 105–13, 158–61; and his verdict on Ward (pp. 72–6); Eyck.

²⁷ F. Meinecke, Ausgewählter Briefwechsel, ed. L. Dehio and P. Classen (Stuttgart, 1962), esp. pp. 163, 181–2.

²⁸ C. Cornelißen, Gerhard Ritter: Geschichtswissenschaft und Politik im 20. Jahrhundert (Düsseldorf, 2001), pp. 84, 316ff. When Ritter visited England in 1949 (cf. below), he noted: ‘nun endlich eine Verbindung mit der englischen Historiographie ... die bisher fast völlig fehlte’ (Cornelißen, p. 458).

²⁹ J. R. Seeley, Die Ausbreitung Englands, ed. K. A. von Müller (Stuttgart, 1928); K. A. von Müller, Der ältere Pitt (Munich, 1937); Müller, Gärten, at p. 379.

³⁰ Eyck, pp. 311ff.; E. Goldstein, Winning the Peace: British Diplomatic Strategy, Peace Planning, and the Paris Peace Conference, 1916–20 (Oxford, 1991); Keith Hamilton, in Forging the Collective Memory: Government and International Historians through Two World Wars, ed. K. M. Wilson (Providence, R.I., 1996), pp. 192–229.

³¹ Pirenne’s Creighton Lecture remained unpublished. His pre-war Chichele Lectures at Oxford in 1913 were also given in French: ‘Les phases principales du développement politique, économique et social en Belgique depuis le commencement du moyen-âge jusqu’au 19. siècle’. Cf. Lyon, pp. 198ff. Pirenne’s recoil from his ‘grand illusion’ about Germany is exhaustively documented by C. Violante, La fine della ‘grande illusione’. Uno storico europeo tra guerra e dopoguerra: Henri Pirenne, 1914–23. P er una rilettura della ‘Histoire de l’Europe’ (Bologna, 1997). The German version of Violante’s work, Das Ende der ‘großen Illusion’. Ein europäischer Historiker im Spannungsfeld von Krieg und Nachkriegszeit: Henri Pirenne (1914–23). Zu einer Neulesung der ‘Geschichte Europas’, ed. G. Dilcher (Berlin, 2004), reveals Violante’s own passage to Germanophobia.

³² Erdmann. By 1938 the British representative was Woodward; from 1948 and in the 1950s it was Webster; in the 1960s Ernest Jacob; then a gap to Theo Barker (below) by 1980 (and president in the 1990s).

³³ K. Robbins, History, Religion and Identity in Modern Britain (1993), pp. 48–9.

³⁴ J. Huizinga, Briefwisseling, ed. L. Hanssen and others (3 vols., Veen, 1989–91). In Britain only P. S. Allen and his wife were ‘groote vrienden’ (and Gilbert Murray was ‘welbekend’) (Huizinga, iii. 429). Gooch and Temperley, e.g., are not even mentioned.

³⁵ Trevelyan, War and European Revolution, p. 8.

³⁶ Robbins, History, Religion and Identity, pp. 48–50.

³⁷ Erdmann, ch. 11; Fair, pp. 245ff.

³⁸ Parker, pp. 119ff.; cf. Breuilly, in Burke, History and Historians, pp. 55ff.; Bentley, esp. pp. 83–4.

³⁹ The totals (as listed in Erdmann) were: 40 at Brussels (1923), 13 at Oslo (1928), 10 at Warsaw (1933), 14 at Zurich (1938).

⁴⁰ Tout, ‘England and France’, p. 2 etc. The Rennes Lectures led to his book France and England: their Relations in the Middle Ages and Now (Manchester, 1922).

⁴¹ E. Halévy, Correspondance (1891-1937), ed. H. Guy-Loë and others (Paris, 1996), at pp. 94 (‘brutes’), 370 (‘leçons’).

⁴² Halévy, Correspondance, nos. 306, 309, 311, 317, 319, 330 (Russell); 377, 423, 434, 511, 565, 627–8, 654, 656, 660, 736, 738 (Wallas); also nos. 629, 695, 751–2; mentions of historians at pp. 416-17 (Prothero), 588 (E. Barker), 589 (H. A. L. Fisher), 668 (Trevelyan), 677 (Wickham Steed), 682 (E. Power); and see pp. 679–81 (Oxford degree). See also Barker’s tribute in Eng. Hist. Rev., liii (1938), 79–87.

⁴³ Studies in Anglo-French History during the 18th, 19th and 20th Centuries, ed. A. Coville and H. Temperley (Cambridge, 1935).

⁴⁴ M. Bloch and L. Febvre, Les Annales d’histoire économique et sociale: correspondance, ed. B. Müller (3 vols., Paris, 1994–2003), i. 21, 24, 77-8, 94, 145, 180, 186, 203, 327, 439. Cf. The Birth of Annales History: the Letters of Lucien Febvre and Marc Bloch to Henri Pirenne (1921–35), ed. B. Lyon and M. Lyon (Brussels, 1991).

⁴⁵ P. Burke, The French Historical Revolution: the Annales School, 1929–89 (Stanford, Calif., 1990), pp. 96-7; Bentley, pp. 132ff.

⁴⁶ D. C. Coleman, History and the Economic Past: an Account of the Rise and Decline of Economic History in Britain (Oxford, 1987), although he only implies the European point; likewise Bentley, pp. 119ff. The same was eminently true of technology (cf. D. Cannadine, ‘Engineering history, or the history of engineering? Rewriting the technological past’, Trans. Newcomen Soc., lxxiv (2004), 163–80).

⁴⁷ Bloch and Febvre, i. 44-5, 289, 312, 500; ii. 18ff.; cf. ii, pp. xxxiv–v.

⁴⁸ G. M. Trevelyan, Grey of Fallodon: Being the Life of Sir Edward Grey, Afterwards Viscount Grey of Fallodon (1937); cf. Robbins, History, Religion and Identity, pp. 48ff.

⁴⁹ B. Croce, Theory and History of Historiography (1921). However, his influence was also resisted (Sharifzhanov, p. 25; Bentley, p. 206). Croce’s History of Italy, 1871–1915 (Oxford, 1929) and History of Europe in the 19th Century (1934) were also translated during this period. Cf. E. Barker, Age and Youth: Memories of Three Universities; Father of the Man (1953), pp. 109–55 passim. On Baron, see K. Schiller, in Historikerdialoge: Geschichte, Mythos und Gedächtnis im deutsch-britischen kulturellen Austausch, 1750–2000, ed. S. Berger and others (Göttingen, 2003), pp. 345–60.

⁵⁰ Cf. A. Galán Sánchez, Una visión de la ‘decadencia española’: la historiografía anglosajona sobre mudéjares y moriscos (siglos XVIII–XX) (Malaga, 1991), for a particular aspect of this.

⁵¹ Seton-Watson, ‘Plea’, strangely makes no reference to his own work, but he had just written a book about the Sarajevo assassination (R. W. Seton-Watson, Sarajevo: a Study in the Origins of the Great War (1926)). See, in general, R. J. W. Evans, Great Britain and East-Central Europe, 1908–48: a Study in Perceptions (2001). For the Slavonic School, see Barker, Age and Youth, pp. 123–4, 142ff.; and I. W. Roberts, History of the School of Slavonic and East European Studies, 1915–90 (1991). Sumner’s massive but incisive Russia and the Balkans, 1870–80, appeared in 1937; his brilliant Survey of Russian History in 1944.

⁵² For this phase of Toynbee’s career, cf. R. Clogg, Politics and the Academy: Arnold Toynbee and the Koraes Chair (1986). Macartney’s early work was mainly on contemporary history – The Social Revolution in Austria (1926); National States and National Minorities (1934); Hungary (1934); Hungary and her Successors: the Treaty of Trianon and its Consequences, 1919– 37 (1937) – but he also did pioneering research into the early Hungarian chronicles.

⁵³ A. Sisman, A. J. P. Taylor: a Biography (1994), pp. 73ff.; K. Burk, Troublemaker: the Life and History of A. J. P. Taylor (New Haven, Conn., 2000), pp. 92ff., 225ff.; C. J. Wrigley, A. J. P. Taylor, Radical Historian of Europe (2006), pp. 56ff., 112ff., 192ff. But cf. S. Collini, Absent Minds: Intellectuals in Britain (Oxford, 2006), pp. 375–92, for a wider critical appraisal of Taylor. His views on central Europe, as advanced especially in The Habsburg Monarchy, 1815–1918: a History of the Austrian Empire and Austria-Hungary (1941), owed much to Heinrich Friedjung, Louis Eisenmann, Josef Redlich and Otto Bauer.

⁵⁴ D. Knowles, in Proc. British Academy, lvii (1971), 439–52; C. Scott, A Historian and his World: a Life of Christopher Dawson, 1889–1970 (1984); Eternity in Time: Christopher Dawson and the Catholic Idea of History, ed. S. Caldecott and J. Morrill (Edinburgh, 1997). Dawson is noticed too in Lozek, pp. 70-1, 74–6.

⁵⁵ H. A. L. Fisher, A History of Europe (3 vols., 1935), i, preface.

⁵⁶ A. J. P. Taylor, The Course of German History: a Survey of the Development of Germany since 1815 (1945), regularly reprinted into the 1970s. It was designed as ‘a 1066 and all that in German terms’ (cf. Wrigley, pp. 154ff.). Meinecke, Briefwechsel, pp. 252, 276-7; Gerhard Ritter: Ein politischer Historiker in seinen Briefen, ed. K. Schwabe and R. Reichardt (Boppard a.R., 1984), nos. 152, 153; Cornelißen, pp. 271, 502.

⁵⁷ Cornelißen, pp. 170, 458, 463 and n., 464ff.; Schwabe and Reichardt, no. 162, to Barraclough, etc.

⁵⁸ Taylor, Second World War, p. 11; cf. Berger, p. 109, and the view of Ritter’s student Messerschmidt, pp. 118ff. Quoted from Cornelißen, p. 468.

⁵⁹ The leaven of pupils of Meinecke alone in the U.S.A. from the 1930s is apparent from F. Meinecke, Akademischer Lehrer und emigrierte Schüler: Briefe und Aufzeichnungen, 1910–77, ed. G. A. Ritter (Munich, 2006). Cf. also An Interrupted Past: German-speaking Refugee Historians in the United States after 1933, ed. H. Lehmann and J. J. Sheehan (Washington, D.C., 2002).

⁶⁰ H. A. L. Fisher, Paul Vinogradoff: a Memoir (Oxford, 1927).

⁶¹ L. Namier, 1848: the Revolution of the Intellectuals (1944). Cf., in general, A. Ng, Nationalism and Political Liberty: Redlich, Namier, and the Crisis of Empire (Oxford, 2004).

⁶² Postan’s lecture was given in 1977, shortly before his death: cf. Edward Miller, in Proc. British Academy, lxix (1983), 543–57. Berlin’s lecture first appeared in The Times Literary Supplement, 31 Dec. 1971.

⁶³ Those still alive in the mid 1990s (plus Walter Ullmann, who had left a memoir) contributed autobiographical essays to Out of the Third Reich: Refugee Historians in Post-war Britain, ed. P. Alter (1998); summarized by Alter in Berger, pp. 331–44.

⁶⁴ Gombrich, Myth and Reality, p. 14 and passim.

⁶⁵ H. R. Trevor-Roper, The Last Days of Hitler (1947; 7th edn., 1995); A. Bullock, Hitler: a Study in Tyranny (1952; new edn., 1990).

⁶⁶ Medlicott, Britain and Germany, p. 32 and passim.

⁶⁷ Alter, Out of the Third Reich, pp. 27–39; Peter Alter, in Proc. British Academy, cxv (2002), 119–29; cf. R. J. W. Evans, ‘Coming to terms with the Habsburgs: reflections on the historiography of central Europe’, in Does Central Europe Still Exist? History, Economy, Identity, ed. T. Row (Vienna, 2007), pp. 11–24.

⁶⁸ Deutsches Historisches Institut, London, 1976–2001 (2001).

⁶⁹ D. Hay, Europe: the Emergence of an Idea (1957).

⁷⁰ Per Federico Chabod (1901-60), ed. S. Bertelli (2 vols., Perugia, 1981), esp. i. 9ff. (by Fernand Braudel); Federico Chabod e la Nuova Storiografia Italiana, 1919–50, ed. B. Vigezzi (Milan, 1984). See also Charles Webster’s appreciation of Chabod, Rivista Storica Italiana, lxxii (1960), 625–8, notably solemn alongside Braudel et al. (pp. 617–834). Stuart Woolf, in Jour. Modern Italian Stud., vii (2002), 269–92, discusses Chabod’s European ideas.

⁷¹ G. Barraclough, European Unity in Thought and Action (Oxford, 1963).

⁷² E. Barker, National Character and the Factors in its Formation (1927); The Character of England, ed. E. Barker and C. F. C. Hawkes (Oxford, 1947). Cf. Barker, Age and Youth, pp. 212–16; J. Stapleton, Englishness and the Study of Politics: the Social and Political Thought of Ernest Barker (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 178ff. and passim.

⁷³ Bentley, pp. 112–13.

⁷⁴ Coleman, History and the Economic Past, pp. 93ff.

⁷⁵ Parker, pp. 177–201.

⁷⁶ Cambridge Economic History of Europe, ed. M. M. Postan and others (8 vols. in 10, Cambridge, 1941–89); M. M. Postan, An Economic History of Western Europe (1967).

⁷⁷ D. Renton, Sidney Pollard: a Life in History (2004), esp. pp. 122ff.

⁷⁸ E. J. Hobsbawm, The Age of Revolution: Europe, 1789–1848 (1962); E. J. Hobsbawm, The Age of Capital, 1848–75 (1975); E. J. Hobsbawm, The Age of Empire, 1875–1914 (1987). Cf. E. J. Hobsbawm, Age of Extremes: the Short 20th Century, 1914–91 (1994).

⁷⁹ Past & Present, i (1952), i–iv.

⁸⁰ For these issues, but not their (absence of a) European dimension, see Sharifzhanov, pp. 15ff.

⁸¹ T. W. Mason, Arbeiterklasse und Volksgemeinschaft: Dokumente und Materialien zur deutschen Arbeiterpolitik 1936–9 (Opladen, 1975).

⁸² De Guillaume le conquérant au Marché Commun. Dix siècles d’histoire franco-britannique, ed. F. Bédarida and others (Paris, 1979), esp. pp. 13–17 (Crouzet); translated as Britain and France: Ten Centuries (Folkestone, 1980). Cf. Crouzet, in Histoires d’outre-Manche. Tendances récentes de l’historiographie britannique, ed. F. Lachaud and others (Paris, 2001), pp. 9–12; and, for renewed collaboration, most recently, Liens personnels, résaux, solidarités en France et dans les îles Britanniques, XIe–XXe siècle, ed. D. Bates and V. Gazeau (Paris, 2006).

⁸³ For Alfred Cobban, see French Government and Society 1500–1850: Essays in Memory of Alfred Cobban, ed. J. F. Bosher (1973); for Richard Cobb, see Beyond the Terror: Essays in French Regional and Social History, 1794–1815, ed. G. Lewis and C. Lucas (Cambridge, 1983).

⁸⁴ Cf. Johnson, in Bédarida and others, pp. 18–20.

⁸⁵ I must restrict myself to one or two characteristic works of the living authors mentioned in this paragraph: D. Mack Smith, Cavour and Garibaldi, 1860: a Study in Political Conflict (Cambridge, 1954); D. Mack Smith, Mussolini’s Roman Empire (1976). J. H. Elliott, The Revolt of the Catalans: a Study in the Decline of Spain (1598–1640) (Cambridge, 1963); J. H. Elliott, The Count-Duke of Olivares: the Statesman in an Age of Decline (New Haven, Conn., 1986).

⁸⁶ Roberts, Aristocratic Constitutionalism, at pp. 30, 32, 40. Cf. M. Roberts, Gustavus Adolphus: a History of Sweden, 1611–32 (2 vols., 1953–8); M. Roberts, The Early Vasas: a History of Sweden, 1523–1611 (Cambridge, 1968).

⁸⁷ C. A. Macartney, October 15th: a History of Modern Hungary, 1929–45 (2 vols., Edinburgh, 1957); C. A. Macartney, The Habsburg Empire, 1790–1918 (1968); N. Davies, God’s Playground: a History of Poland (2 vols., Oxford, 1981); P. G. M. Dickson, Finance and Government under Maria Theresia, 1740–80 (2 vols., Oxford, 1987); D. Beales, Joseph II, i: in the Shadow of Maria Theresa, 1741–80 (Cambridge, 1987).

⁸⁸ J. Haslam, The Vices of Integrity: E. H. Carr, 1892–1982 (1999), pp. 20, 134 and passim. For the Slavonic School, see Roberts, History.

⁸⁹ Hobsbawm, Present as History, p. 18 etc.

⁹⁰ For Kossmann, see the obituary (by F. R. Ankersmit) at <http://www.rug.nl/let/onderzoek/onderzoekcentra/ErnstKossmanninstituut/kossm/leven.pdf> [accessed 15 Sept. 2008].

⁹¹ C. V. Wedgwood, The Thirty Years War (1938); her translation of K. Brandi, The Emperor Charles V: the Growth and Destiny of a Man and of a World-Empire, with its telling subtitle, appeared the following year, as Hitler’s war broke out. For the Sonderweg debate, cf., most recently, A. Bauerkämper, in Berger, pp. 383–438.

⁹² I am very grateful to Samantha Jordan for supplying the list of lectures as held at the University of London as of 2006. The appendix is an amplified version, which seeks to record details of publication. As will be seen, there remain some gaps and queries.