10 ‘Patriotism’, ‘Cosmopolitanism’ and ‘Humanity’ in Victorian Political Thought

8/12/2019 10 ‘Patriotism’, ‘Cosmopolitanism’ and ‘Humanity’ in Victorian Political Thought

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/10-patriotism-cosmopolitanism-and-humanity-in-victorian 1/20

http://ept.sagepub.com/ European Journal of Political Theory

http://ept.sagepub.com/content/5/1/100The online version of this article can be found at:

DOI: 10.1177/1474885106059071

2006 5: 100European Journal of Political Theory Georgios Varouxakis

'Patriotism', 'Cosmopolitanism' and 'Humanity' in Victorian Political Thought

Published by:

http://www.sagepublications.com

can be found at:European Journal of Political Theory Additional services and information for

http://ept.sagepub.com/cgi/alertsEmail Alerts:

http://ept.sagepub.com/subscriptionsSubscriptions:

http://www.sagepub.com/journalsReprints.navReprints:

http://www.sagepub.com/journalsPermissions.navPermissions:

What is This?

- Dec 15, 2005Version of Record>>

by Pepe Portillo on May 27, 2014ept.sagepub.comDownloaded from by Pepe Portillo on May 27, 2014ept.sagepub.comDownloaded from

http://ept.sagepub.com/



http://ept.sagepub.com/content/5/1/100


http://www.sagepublications.com/


http://ept.sagepub.com/cgi/alerts

http://ept.sagepub.com/subscriptions


http://www.sagepub.com/journalsReprints.nav


http://www.sagepub.com/journalsPermissions.nav


http://online.sagepub.com/site/sphelp/vorhelp.xhtml


http://ept.sagepub.com/content/5/1/100.full.pdf













http://ept.sagepub.com/cgi/alerts






‘Patriotism’, ‘Cosmopolitanism’ and‘Humanity’ in Victorian

Political Thought

Georgios VarouxakisQueen Mary College, University of London, UK

abstract: This article analyses the articulation of the relationship between

‘patriotism’ and ‘cosmopolitanism’ or commitment to ‘humanity’ in the writings of some major Victorian political thinkers. It is argued that: (a) there was no neat distinction between ‘patriotism’ and ‘nationalism’ in the thought of the time; (b)

‘patriotism’ was seen as a stepping stone to universalistic commitment to ‘humanity’

rather than as opposed to or incompatible with the latter; (c) most thinkers avoidedthe term ‘cosmopolitanism’, because of some of its associations, and preferred to use

love of ‘humanity’ or similar terms to refer to universalistic commitments; (d) allthinkers discussed here believed that some form of ‘patriotism’ was necessary, while

all of them complained that the term was being misused by most of their

contemporaries and inveighed against some misconceived and morally reprehensible version of ‘patriotism’; and (e) most discussions of patriotism and universalism were

conducted in a religious or quasi-religious language. The main focus of this article ison John Stuart Mill (1806–73), Matthew Arnold (1822–88), Herbert Spencer

(1820–1903), Thomas Hill Green (1836–82), Henry Sidgwick (1838–1900), FredericHarrison (1831–1923) and, to a lesser extent, Frederick Denison Maurice (1805–72),

John Robert Seeley (1834–95) and Charles Henry Pearson (1830–94).

key words: Arnold, cosmopolitanism, Green, Harrison, humanity, Maurice, Mill,

nationalism, patriotism, Pearson, Seeley, Sidgwick, Spencer

This article is an attempt to capture the variety of divergent conceptions and(explicit or implied) definitions of ‘patriotism’ in Victorian political thought as

well as the – partial and nuanced – convergences of such conceptions and defini-

tions. As an inseparable part of that attempt, the article analyses the different

articulations of the relationship between ‘patriotism’ and ‘cosmopolitanism’ or

commitment to ‘humanity’ in the writings of Victorian political thinkers. This

latter exercise is imposed by the subject matter itself. It will become clear in the

following pages that, more often than not, when discussing ‘patriotism’, Victorian

100

article

Contact address: Dr Georgios Varouxakis, Dept of History, Queen Mary College,University of London, Mile End Rd, London E1 4NS, UK.Email: [email protected]

EJPT European Journal

of Political Theory

© SAGE Publications Ltd,

London, Thousand Oaks

and New Delhi

issn 1474-8851, 5(1) 100–118

[DOI: 10.1177/1474885106059071 ]

by Pepe Portillo on May 27, 2014ept.sagepub.comDownloaded from







political thinkers had something to say also about its relationship to universal

benevolence and commitment to ‘humanity’.

I have discussed elsewhere a number of attempts to define ‘patriotism’ as well

as related attempts to articulate the differences – if any – between ‘patriotism’ and

‘nationalism’, from the 19th century to today.1 Instead of rehearsing here all the

theories in question, I will use the limited space available to examine what anumber of highly sophisticated Victorian writers had to say on ‘patriotism’ and its

relation with universalist or ‘cosmopolitan’ attachment to ‘humanity’ as a whole,

and draw some conclusions – including conclusions on the relationship between

‘patriotism’ and ‘nationalism’.

I have argued in earlier work that J.S. Mill’s position vis-à-vis nationhood and

nationalism has been subject to all sorts of misinterpretations.2 Mill spoke

favourably innumerable times of ‘patriotism’, or of ‘patriotisme éclairé’, or, as

he put it in the later editions of his System of Logic ,3 one of the conditions of

stability in political society was ‘a strong and active principle of cohesion among themembers of the same community or state’.4 But he hastened to explain:

We need scarcely say that we do not mean nationality in the vulgar sense of the term; a

senseless antipathy to foreigners; an indifference to the general welfare of the human race,or an unjust preference of the supposed interests of our own country; a cherishing of bad

peculiarities because they are national or a refusal to adopt what has been found good by

other countries.

Instead, he went on to explain what he did mean:

We mean a principle of sympathy, not of hostility; of union, not of separation. We mean afeeling of common interest among those who live under the same government, and are

contained within the same natural or historical boundaries. We mean, that one part of thecommunity shall not consider themselves as foreigners with regard to another part; that

they shall cherish the tie which holds them together; shall feel that they are one people,that their lot is cast together, that evil to any of their fellow-countrymen is evil to

themselves, and that they cannot selfishly free themselves from their share of any common

inconvenience by severing the connexion.5

In other words, Mill was proposing a kind of patriotism which he defined care-

fully so as to distinguish it from ‘nationality’, at any rate ‘nationality in the vulgar

sense’. What is striking about the characteristics of ‘nationality in the vulgar sense’

which he enumerates in this passage in order to reject them emphatically is that

they all refer to a community’s relation with ‘foreigners’, or with ‘the general

welfare of the human race’, or to the question whether or not one should adopt

‘what has been found good by other countries’. Mill was explicit, that is, that the

‘principle’ he was proposing had to be compatible with ‘the general welfare of the

human race’, should not be turned against ‘foreigners’ and should not lead to the

rejection of ‘what has been found good by other countries’ and a ‘cherishing of

absurd peculiarities because they are national’. Preserving a nation’s ‘authenticity’

and ‘national’ culture (major concerns of most nationalists) were far from being

his concerns. On the contrary, adopting what had been found good by other 101

Varouxakis: Victorian Political Thought








countries was not only acceptable but highly – and militantly – recommended by

him.6 But this did not make him an advocate of ‘rootless cosmopolitanism’ either.

For he set great value on solidarity and civic spirit among the members of a politi-

cal community. This was what I would call an ‘enlightened patriotism’ which,

given how subordinated it was to the overarching cosmopolitan commitment, to

concern for ‘the general welfare of the human race’, has to be seen as instrumentalor derivative. It is the most sensible way of doing good for humanity as a whole.

It is therefore consistent with the classical utilitarian doctrine.7

But there is more to Mill’s position than this enlightened patriotism. He

wanted people to overcome selfishness of all kinds and come to identify with the

interests of the whole of mankind, those living, those dead and those yet to be

born. What he envisaged was ‘absolute obligation towards the universal good’. He

argued that ‘to call these sentiments by the name of morality . . . is claiming too

little for them’. They were ‘a real religion’, ‘the Religion of Humanity’.8

Discussing the feasibility of such ‘ideal devotion to a greater country, the world’,he adduced the degree of selfless dedication and allegiance inspired by patriotism

as a proof of the capacity of human beings, once properly educated, to attain to

disinterested devotion to the good of the whole of humanity:

When we consider how ardent a sentiment, in favourable circumstances of education, the

love of country has become, we cannot judge it impossible that the love of that larger country,

the world , may be nursed into similar strength, both as a source of elevated emotion and as

a principle of duty.9

Now, in his capacity as a ‘public moralist’, Mill adopted a strategy which he

followed throughout his life. Believing that, for the foreseeable future, the vast

majority of people (those who were not ‘superior natures’, at least), were not

going to be easily converted to his ‘Religion of Humanity’ with its cosmopolitan

sympathies and commitments, he chose to promote the kind of more limited

attachment (love of country – patriotism) which was most consistent with, and

conducive to, his cosmopolitan ultimate commitment. If most people at his time

needed to feel attached to a community smaller than mankind as a whole, and

were likely to feel pride or shame on its behalf, then he would work hard to con-

vince his fellow countrymen to take pride in the right things, and feel shame when

their country was doing the wrong things – right or wrong from the point of view

of the welfare, ‘civilization’ and ‘improvement’ of mankind as a whole. Thus he

fought militantly and consistently what he saw as the complacent, flag-waving

kind of patriotism (such as that represented by T.B. Macaulay or James Fitzjames

Stephen at the time, for example), patriotism that took pride in military prowess,

imperial power, commercial supremacy, conquests and the like, and ‘minister[ed]

to English conceit’ or gave encouragement to ‘the already ample self-conceit of

John Bull’.10 Mill wanted people to divert their feelings of pride to what their

country was doing for humanity and ‘civilization’ and to feel shame if theirgovernment either was acting against the interests of mankind at large or even

refrained from rendering mankind services simply because no ‘British interests’

European Journal of Political Theory 5(1)

102








were concerned. Moreover, he wanted his fellow countrymen to be able to defend

their country’s international behaviour in terms and with arguments that would

be acceptable to foreign nations. The kind of language he wanted used and the

kind of arguments he thought should be part of the deliberations of the nation had

to be, in that sense, cosmopolitan. Mill tried seriously to convince his compatriots

to consider the point of view of other nations when they were discussing amatter.11

In this respect, in trying to elevate the opinion of foreigners as one of the major

concerns of the British nation and its governments, Mill was at one with a man

otherwise of quite different views and temperament, Matthew Arnold. It may not

be completely accidental that, during the year when he was reflecting on the issues

involved in writings like ‘My Countrymen’, Arnold had put in his list of books to

read, in 1866, Bolingbroke’s ‘The Idea of a Patriot King’.12 And a revealing quote

from that essay appears in ‘My Countrymen’, when Arnold’s supposed foreign

friends remark, that: ‘this sentence of your Lord Bolingbroke is true: “Theopinion of mankind, which is fame after death, is superior strength and power in

life.”’13 I think that this is an important clue to understanding Arnold’s brand of

patriotism. Instead of ignoring what the rest of ‘Europe’ and the world thought of

Britain, as other Victorian thinkers did (and some, like J.F. Stephen, explicitly

recommended14), to say nothing of the British public at large (as Nassau Senior

had explained15), Arnold and Mill believed that it was part of being a good patriot

to strive to improve the way one’s country was perceived abroad, to make its voice

heard and respected, and all this for the right reasons, for commendable achieve-

ments, distinctions and contributions to the common fund of ‘civilization’, which

other nations would recognize as well. More importantly, they believed that, by

making the British public aware of, and sensitive to, the judgements of an inter-

national ‘tribunal of public opinion’, they would inculcate in them the right kind

of patriotism, the patriotism that feeds on appropriate and commendable feelings

and aspires to the right sort of collective-national distinction and ‘greatness’.

There is no doubting the extent to which Arnold cared for his country’s

prospects, greatness and consideration among nations.16 It is indicative of how

contested the term ‘patriotism’ was, as well as of the extent to which other

versions of ‘patriotism’ were winning the battle for ownership of the term,

that Arnold was being routinely accused of lack of patriotism or anti-patriotism.

For J.F. Stephen was far from alone in seeing Arnold as a paragon of anti-

patriotism.17 Arnold was of course fully aware of the charges of anti-patriotism

and responded by mocking those who criticized him on this count.18 Far from

being unpatriotic, Arnold, like Mill, had his own views as to what is healthy and

defensible patriotism and what is sheer prejudice. Commenting on one of the

many attacks he had received on account of his essay ‘My Countrymen’, he wrote

to his mother:


103










research assistant and first biographer, David Duncan, testifies, it was the Boer

War which incensed Spencer more than anything else. ‘Probably no political

event in the whole course of his life moved him so completely. “I am ashamed of

my country,” was his frequent remark’.23 What Spencer wrote during or after the

Boer War was strikingly critical of what passed for ‘patriotism’ at the time.24 More

generally, his anti-imperialism was ‘uncompromising’.25 As these later writingsshow, Spencer would have no truck with a certain kind of ‘patriotism’, which,

sadly, he thought, was more and more in the ascendant. In ‘Patriotism’26 he offers

an outright rejection of a certain conception of ‘patriotism’ – that expressed in the

‘Our country, right or wrong!’ stance – and a wish to challenge the attempted

monopolization of ‘patriotism’ or ‘love of country’ by its adherents.27

To pass from the social Darwinist to the idealist, T.H. Green, ardent admirer

of Mazzini, had some quite interesting things to say on patriotism and cosmo-

politan allegiance to humanity. On these issues he proved to be closer to Kant

than to Hegel.28 In the Lectures on the Principles of Political Obligation (delivered at Oxford in the winter of 1879–80), Green wrote that, much worse than the con-

tinuing commercial jealousy of nations, was the effect of their vanity, ‘their desire

. . . to become or to seem stronger than the other’, which had, by his time, ‘very

much increased’: ‘under the name of patriotism’ national vanity had become ‘a more

serious disturber of peace than dynastic ambition’.29

In answering the question ‘In what relation do the rights of states to act for their

own interests’ stand to the rights of ‘human society, as such’, Green argued that

the question could not even arise if the state were organized ‘according to its idea’.

If, that is, it were an institution in which ‘all rights are harmoniously maintained’,

‘all the capacities that give rise to rights have free-play given to them’. If that were

the case, ‘No action in its own interest of a state that fulfilled this idea could con-

flict with any true interest or right of general society, of the men not subject to its

law taken as a whole.’ In other words, there was ‘no such thing as an inevitable

conflict between states’. For ‘There is nothing in the nature of the state that, given

a multiplicity of states, should make the gain of the one the loss of the other.’ The

more perfectly each one of them attained its proper object ‘of giving free scope to

the capabilities of all persons living on a certain range of territory’, the easier it

would be for others to do so; and in proportion as they all did so the danger of

conflict would disappear.30

And though it was true that a state was not an abstract institution or complex of

institutions, but ‘a nation organised in a certain way’; and that members of the

nation were animated by:

. . . certain passions, arising out of their association, which, though not egoistic relative to

the individual subjects of them (for they are motives to self-sacrifice), may, in theirinfluence on the dealings of one nation with another, have an effect analogous to that

which egoistic passions . . . have upon the dealings of individuals with each other.

It had to be remembered, on the other hand:


105








. . . that the national passion, which in any good sense is simply the public spirit of thegood citizen, may take, and every day is taking, directions which lead to no collision

between one nation and another; (or, to say the same thing negatively, that it is utterly

false to speak as if the desire for one’s own nation to show more military strength thanothers were the only or the right form of patriotism).31

As he proceeded to explain, the love of mankind, ‘no doubt, needs to be particu-larised in order to have any power over life and action’. The man whose desire to

serve his kind was ‘not centred primarily in some home, radiating from it to a

commune, a municipality, and a nation, presumably has no effectual desire to

serve his kind at all’. But there was ‘no reason why this localised or nationalised

philanthropy should take the form of jealousy of other nations or a desire to fight

them, personally or by proxy’. On the contrary, those in whom it was strongest

were ‘every day expressing it in good works which benefit their fellow-citizens

without interfering with the men of other nations’. Therefore:

Till all the methods have been exhausted by which nature can be brought into the service of man, till society is so organised that everyone’s capacities have free scope for their develop-

ment, there is no need to resort to war for a field in which patriotism may display itself.

In fact, Green argued, ‘ just so far as states are thoroughly formed, the diversion of

patriotism into the military channel tends to come to an end ’.32 For the latter was ‘a

survival’ from a condition of things in which the state ‘in the full sense’ did not

exist. Because:

Patriotism, in that special military sense in which it is distinguished from public spirit , is not the

temper of the citizen dealing with fellow-citizens, or with men who are themselves citizensof their several states, but that of the follower of the feudal chief, or of the member of a

privileged class conscious of a power, resting ultimately on force, over an inferiorpopulation, or of a nation holding empire over other nations.33

Thus, the more complete the organization of state-life would become, the more

the motives and occasions of international conflict would tend to disappear, ‘while

the bonds of unity become stronger’.34 The better organization of the state would

mean freer scope for the individual, which in turn would lead to free intercourse

between members of one state and those of another, and in particular more free-

dom of trade. As a result, ‘the sense of common interests between them, which war would infringe’, would become stronger. And while initially people may thus

establish a bond of peace because it would be seen as being in their interests; in

the long run, the same process of extension would take place as when people

gradually learnt to extend the mutual respect for each other’s rights (which they

earlier reserved only for family and friends) to all fellow-citizens in the same state

– and thus eventually this mutual respect would be extended to foreigners beyond

the state’s borders. Consequently:

. . . there is no reason why . . . through the familiarity which trade brings about, an idea of

justice, as a relation which should subsist between all mankind as well as between membersof the same state, may not come to act on men’s minds as independently of all calculation

of their several interests as does the idea which regulates the conduct of the good citizen. 35


106








And thus, eventually, ‘the dream of an international court with authority resting

on the consent of independent states may come to be realised’. He conceded that

such a result ‘may be very remote’, but insisted that:

. . . it is important to bear in mind that there is nothing in the intrinsic nature of a systemof independent states incompatible with it, but that on the contrary every advance in the

organisation of mankind into states in the sense explained is a step towards it.36

In Prolegomena to Ethics (posthumously published in 1883) Green was to assert the

‘extension of the area of common good’, resulting in ‘the theory of a universal

human fellowship’ and ‘the idea of the brotherhood of men’ more emphatically.

Interestingly – although he went on to criticize its conception of well-being

and to agree with Kant’s formulation of well-being – Green praised utilitarianism

for ‘its real beneficence in the life of modern society’ thanks to its assertion of

the principle embodied in the formula ‘every one should count for one and no

one for more than one’ in the calculation of felicific consequences, taking intoaccount the well-being of everyone concerned, independently of race, nation or

class.37

It is time now to turn from Oxonian T.H. Green to his one-time fellow-student

in Rugby School and subsequently Cambridge counterpart (and philosophical

opponent), the utilitarian philosopher Henry Sidgwick. In The Methods of Ethics

(1874), Sidgwick maintained that ‘the claims of fellow-countrymen’, ‘if they are

taken as individuals’, seemed to be ‘only a particular application of the duty of

general benevolence or humanity’. But here Sidgwick introduced a distinction

between duties to one’s fellow countrymen and duties to one’s country as a whole. Thus, he hastened to add: ‘for one’s relation to one’s country as a whole is thought

to be of a different kind, and to involve much more stringent obligations’. Which

did not mean that there was agreement on what these latter were: ‘Still the duties

of patriotism are difficult to formulate.’ He could not find any more definite and

generally recognized duties than that ‘the duty of fighting the national enemies is

prominent in many countries’. However, not much else was agreed upon: ‘But

whether a citizen is at any time morally bound to more than certain legally or

constitutionally determined duties, does not seem to be clear.’ Nor, he added, ‘is

there general agreement on the question whether by voluntary expatriation he can

rightfully relieve himself of all moral obligations to the community in which he

was born’.38

This was what common-sense morality held. But be that as it may, Sidgwick

was a utilitarian. And he exposed the utilitarian doctrine with regard to the

question of the relationship between particular and universal commitments quite

directly. In ‘Public Morality’ (1897), he tried to explain why what he called the

‘Neo-Machiavellianism’ – current especially among German authors at the time

– was repugnant to ‘those who, like myself, hold that the only true basis for moral-ity is a utilitarian basis’. Not because it held the proposition that ‘the end justifies

the means’: ‘In our view the end must always ultimately justify the means – there


107








is no other way in which the use of any means whatever could possibly be

justified.’ The problem was elsewhere:

Only it must be a universal end ; not the preservation of any particular state, still less its

aggrandisement or the maintenance of its existing form of government; but the happiness or well-being of humanity at large – or, rather, of the whole universe of living things, so far as

any practical issue can be raised between these two conceptions of the universal end.39

Earlier, in The Elements of Politics (1891), Sidgwick had again rejected outright the

assertion or (more often, he noted) assumption of many ‘that a State is not

properly subject . . . to any restraint of duty limiting the pursuit of its own inter-

est: that its own interest is, necessarily and properly, its paramount end’. All such

assertions were ‘essentially immoral’. The reasoning he offered was the funda-

mental utilitarian principle: ‘For a State, as for an individual, the ultimate end and

standard of right conduct is the happiness of all who are affected by its actions .’40 It

was of course true, ‘as the leading utilitarian moralists’ had ‘repeatedly and

emphatically affirmed’, that ‘the general happiness is usually best promoted by a

concentration of effort on more limited ends’. However, Sidgwick quoted Austin

approvingly: ‘the principle of utility does demand of us that we shall never pursue

our own peculiar good by means which are inconsistent with the general good’.

Accordingly, Sidgwick concluded:

. . . in the exceptional cases in which the interest of the part conflicts with the interest of the whole, the interest of the part – be it individual or State – must necessarily g[i]ve way.

On this point of principle no compromise is possible, no hesitation admissible, no appealto experience relevant.41

While examining the question of free immigration, Sidgwick observed that in

discussing whether a state had the right to exclude foreigners from immigrating

to it, ‘we come upon the most striking phase of the conflict between the cosmopolitan

and the national ideals of political organisation’.42 According to ‘the national ideal’,

the right and duty of each government was:

. . . to promote the interests of a determinate group of human beings, bound together by

the tie of a common nationality – with due regard to the rules restraining it from attackingor encroaching on other States – and to consider the expediency of admitting foreigners

and their products solely from this point of view.

On the other hand, according to ‘the cosmopolitan ideal’, the business of each

government was:

. . . to maintain order over the particular territory that historical causes have appropriated

to it, but not in any way to determine who is to inhabit this territory, or to restrict theenjoyment of its natural advantages to any particular portion of the human race.

Between the two, where did Sidgwick stand?

The latter is perhaps the ideal of the future; but it allows too little for the national and

patriotic sentiments which have in any case to be reckoned with as an actually powerfulpolitical force, and which appear to be at present indispensable to social wellbeing.


108








And:

We cannot yet hope to substitute for these sentiments, in sufficient diffusion and intensity,the wider sentiment connected with the conception of our common humanity; so that the

casual aggregates that might result from perfectly unrestrained immigration would lack

internal cohesion.43

In The Elements of Politics , Sidgwick includes as one of the (combined and mixed)

motives for ‘colonisation’ what he calls:

. . . patriotic desires for national growth and expansion, extension of national wealth and

prestige, and even power in international struggles – though it must be very doubtful how

far this latter end is likely to be promoted by the founding of colonies.

Such use of ‘patriotic’, unaccompanied by any criticisms or distinctions, shows

that he was accepting rather uncritically such manifestations of popular desire for

national growth and expansion in the direction of colonization and pride based on

them.44 More generally, Sidgwick’s treatment of patriotism was far more con-servative – in the sense of accepting and accommodating common-sense

definitions, morality and current beliefs and attitudes – than either Bentham or

J.S. Mill would have found palatable. Beyond the theoretical declaration of the

principle that a state’s interest could not be pursued at the expense of humanity or

other nations, there was no trace in Sidgwick’s writings or attitudes of Bentham’s

or Mill’s profound antagonism to ‘low and grovelling’ notions of patriotism or of

national greatness and pride, and their efforts to substitute loftier ones instead.45

One cannot help recalling D.G. Ritchie’s comment in his ‘infamous’ review of

Sidgwick’s Elements of Politics : ‘If this is Benthamism, it is Benthamism grown

tame and sleek.’46

One of Sidgwick’s friends was his fellow Cambridge academic, historian J.R.

Seeley, best known for his book The Expansion of England (1883), widely discussed

at the time. Seeley is seen by Duncan Bell in recent important work as holding a

position Bell calls ‘cosmopolitan nationalism’. As he maintains:

In Ecce Homo he was scathing about ‘universal patriotism,’ which, without the instantiationof the state, was actually a form of ‘Jacobinism.’ And in Stein he had sided with his hero’s

[Stein’s] critique of the purportedly disembodied cosmopolitanism of Goethe and Herder, whilst, drawing on Coleridge, he defended instead the virtues of national patriotism.

However, Bell continues, drawing on an earlier essay by Seeley:

. . . his use of the term was qualified, ‘The abuse of patriotism is not to be cured by

destroying patriotism itself; but patriotism is to be strengthened by being purified, by being deprived of its exclusiveness, and ultimateness. The Christian unity of mankind is to

be taught as a final lesson, which will be easiest learnt, or rather will only be learnt, by those who have already realised the unity of the state.’47

Religion and patriotism are connected in the thought of another historian (and

politician), who, like Seeley, had been influenced by F.D. Maurice, though this

one, a Broad Churchman, had other ideas as to what the relationship should be.


109








In a chapter dedicated to the merits of patriotism (‘Some Advantages of an

Enhanced National Feeling’), where he celebrated the substitution of the state

and its secular institutions for the functions earlier performed by the churches,

Charles Pearson (who had been Minister of Education in Australia between 1886

and 1890) argued in favour of inculcating patriotism at schools. But it would be a

patriotism that would amount to a ‘faith’: ‘The religion of the State is surely asworthy of reverence as any creed of the Churches, and ought to grow in intensity year by

year .’48 Pearson predicted that, given the difficulties he was forecasting, it seemed

‘not quite visionary’ to suppose that a day would come when ‘the spirit of uncalcu-

lating devotion to the common cause’, would ‘become a steady principle of action,

deserving to be accounted a faith, and lifting all who feel it into a higher life’.49

Religion is also inextricably linked to the attitude towards ‘patriotism’ and

‘humanity’ of Frederic Harrison and his fellow Comtists or Positivists. With

them, the religion in question was neither Christianity nor a state-religion, but

rather the Comtist faith, ‘the Religion of Humanity’. As in the case of Mill, who was also influenced by Comte in this respect, that ‘religion’ was by definition

universalist: ‘ In the religion of humanity there are no distinctions of skin or race, of sect

or creed; all are our brothers and fellow-citizens of the world – children of the same great

kith and kin.’50 Thus the Positivists were bound to be in strong sympathy with the

victims of British imperialism in Asia and Africa. This, however, did not make

the devotees of the Religion of Humanity disrespectful of ‘patriotism’; exactly the

contrary was the case:

No! It is not that we have outlived the spirit of patriotism and care nothing for the bond of country. It is that we earnestly cling to the idea of country, and honour to the utmost thebrave men who so nobly maintained that sacred trust. Those who have wantonly crushed

the Zulu nation and broken up the Afghan kingdom are they who have trampled underfoot the duty of patriotism. It is for us to insist how precious to the life of the world are

these growing aggregates of people when the lofty conception of nation first comes to

supersede the narrower idea of clan or tribe. It is we who defend the sacred name of country; it is the invader and the conqueror that drag it in the dust.51

The implication is that the Positivists were not selective in their defence of ‘the

sacred name of country’; they respected all patriotisms, not just that of their own

countrymen or a few pet European nations (Italy being most people’s favourite). The same combination of universalist allegiance to humanity, on the one hand,

and vigorous assertion of the importance of patriotism, on the other, occurs in

several other writings by Harrison. In an article characteristically entitled ‘The

True Cosmopolis’ (1896), he declared:

We are as true patriots as any: we will suffer no man’s hand to be raised against our

Fatherland, nor endure a word against its honour. But there is something more than

Fatherland and wider than Patriotism. The supreme development of Humanity in all forms

of civilisation needs the joint co-operation of many countries, and would languish under

any narrow type of national self-sufficiency.52

But, having said that, he did not want his message to be misconstrued: ‘I for one


110








claim to be as fervent a patriot as any of my neighbours. To pretend to be

“Cosmopolitan” and superior to Country is a puerile affectation for which I have

neither sympathy nor mercy.’53 Moreover, Harrison goes on in the same breath

to equate patriotism with nationalism: ‘As a Nationalist by conviction, I hold that

Governments and States cannot be too entirely national for all political purposes,

or too absolutely capable of defending their own nationality.’ That was not all,however: ‘But the interests of intellectual Progress are not confined within any

boundaries of nation, and will assuredly be atrophied by any such narrow limita-

tions.’ That was why:

. . . [i]t deeply concerns all those who have at heart the true interests of intellectual

Progress to strive to counteract the tendencies towards national jealousy and deprecation

fomented by an age of gigantic preparations for war and the passion for commercial andpolitical supremacy.54

In other writings, besides making abundantly and vociferously clear that he didnot want the ‘ancient and beloved name’ of ‘England’ to be replaced by ‘Britain’

nor the ‘organic’ unity of English nationality to be lost in a heterogeneous

Empire,55 Harrison wrote some really powerful denunciations of British imperial-

ism, castigating its ever-increasing militaristic character and the injustices,

cruelties and crimes it was committing at the expense of the peoples it was subju-

gating. All these ‘crimes’ were damaging the name and reputation of England and

the price in shame, hatred and guilt was too high. And, already in 1866, Harrison

had asserted that he ‘solemnly believ[ed]’ that ‘the great national shame and danger,

which it behoves every patriotic Englishman to avert ’ was ‘the growth of mercantile injus-tice in our empire’.56 Time and again he took his pen to attack British imperialism’s

concrete manifestations in Afghanistan, Egypt, South Africa and elsewhere. As

was the case with many anti-imperialists (Spencer, J.A. Hobson, L.T. Hobhouse,

John M. Robertson),57 as well as even with some imperialists (Sidgwick comes

to mind),58 the Boer War evoked vociferous reactions from Harrison. Thus, in

1899 he castigated the doings of Cecil Rhodes and other such ‘cosmopolitan

gamblers’.59

We see in this statement, as we saw in ‘The True Cosmopolis’, that Harrison

rejected what he termed ‘cosmopolitanism’, by which he meant people who ‘pre-

tend to be “Cosmopolitan” and superior to Country’.60 This shows that, in his

time, no less than today, ‘cosmopolitanism’ was – as it has been put with reference

to more recent debates – a ‘tarnished term’.61 ‘Cosmopolitanism’ is used with

striking promiscuity today, not least by political philosophers, meaning all sorts of

different things.62 The confusion was clearly there in the 19th century. Thus,

Sidgwick used ‘cosmopolitan’ in the sense of the paramount allegiance to human-

ity characteristic of utilitarianism, a sense that, as he went on to stress, by no

means clashes with particular national or patriotic attachments, provided thelatter are seen as derivative or instrumental and never lead to behaviour at odds

with the paramount allegiance to humanity. Others, however, used ‘cosmopoli-


111








tan’ to mean a stance opposed to any national or local attachment.63 A recently

contributed definition conveys this latter (widely held) use of ‘cosmopolitanism’:

Understood as a fundamental devotion to the interests of humanity as a whole,

cosmopolitanism has often seemed to claim universality by virtue of its independence, itsdetachment from the bonds, commitments, and affiliations that constrain ordinary

nation-bound lives. It has seemed to be a luxuriously free-floating view from above. 64

Obviously it was such an understanding of ‘cosmopolitanism’ that Harrison was

rejecting. Instead, he referred to the object of his (and the Comtists’) supreme

allegiance as ‘Humanity’, ‘the ever-present idea of Humanity as a whole’.65

In this preference for ‘Humanity’ as opposed to ‘Cosmopolitanism’ to express

the object of supreme universalist allegiance Harrison was far from alone. One

major reason why ‘Cosmopolitanism’ was a tainted term and most people pre-

ferred to avoid using it was made clear by F.D. Maurice, for example, in Social

Morality (1869): ‘The cosmopolitan aspect of the French Revolution has seemedto some its most characteristic aspect.’ The epithet was supposed to indicate ‘a

contempt for national distinctions’. On the other hand: ‘The title human . . . is

open to no such objection.’ And ‘Humanity’ had been ‘accepted as their favourite

watchword’ by the followers of Auguste Comte. Thus, in rejecting ‘cosmopolitan’

and ‘cosmopolitanism’ in favour of ‘human’ and ‘Humanity’, the Comtists

(including, prominently, Harrison) and Liberal Anglicans like Maurice or Seeley

were agreed.66

While he went out of his way to assert his own patriotism on many occasions,

Harrison insisted that there was a ‘petty’ notion of ‘patriotism’ that consisted in

‘bluster[ing] about national merits’, assuming ‘as an unquestionable premiss the

inherent superiority’ of one’s country, and being equivalent to national selfish-

ness, in which case ‘patriotism’ was usually little else than ‘cupidity disguised by

bluster’. Unless subordinated to a nobler duty, patriotism was ‘a mere collective

selfishness, capable of every meanness and cruelty that private selfishness begets’.

‘And patriotism, which as contrasted with personal selfishness is a good, as con-

trasted with love of the human race is an evil.’67 That ‘petty’ or ‘selfish’ notion of

‘patriotism’, he was accepting – and lamenting – was quite widespread in mid-

Victorian England, if we are to judge from his complaint in 1866 that ‘we hardly

hear of patriotism, except when some class or set of men have on hand some

special scheme of rapacity and violence’. There is also another reason to assume

this. The very fact that Harrison felt obliged to assert his patriotic credentials

(and those of his fellow Positivists) so often speaks for itself. As does his explicit

exhortation that ‘[m]en who feel themselves ready to make personal sacrifices for

their country’s true honour and high name’ – the true patriots, in his eyes – ‘must

disregard the spiteful charge of want of patriotism from literary or political

demagogues’.68

Some general conclusions emerge from what has been discussed in the pre-

ceding pages. In the first place, that the examples provided here highlight the


112








complexity of the uses of the terms and the consequent implausibility of attempts

to distinguish neatly between a language of ‘patriotism’ and a language of ‘nation-

alism’. To take a striking example: Harrison’s equation of ‘patriotism’ with

‘nationalism’ and use of the two terms interchangeably within the same breath;69

his constant declarations that he was ‘a patriot’,70 ‘a real patriot’, ‘a patriotic

Englishman’71 (or: ‘we are true patriots’72), combined with his declarations that he was ‘a nationalist pur sang’;73 or his clarification that he (as well as the editor of

the Positivist Review, Beesly) supported ‘true nationalist patriotism’ and insistence

‘that real patriotism must be national, local, and historic’ ;74 his strongly expressed

desire to preserve ‘the ancient and beloved name’ of England and ‘the ancient and

grand name of “Englishman”’,75 juxtaposed to his equally strongly expressed

respect and sympathy for other nations’ patriotism, which sympathy, he insisted,

was not selective and applied no double standards; and his adherence to the

universalist allegiance to humanity as a whole as dictated by ‘the Religion of

Humanity’; all these go a long way in the direction of indicating how complex the whole issue of ‘patriotism’ was at the time in question.

To give another example, we have seen that Mill included ‘a cherishing of bad

peculiarities because they are national or a refusal to adopt what has been found

good by other countries’ among the characteristics or manifestations of ‘national-

ity in the vulgar sense’ (by which most of us would understand ‘nationalism’) –

which he emphatically rejected. On the other hand, Pearson, in his definition of

what ‘patriotism’ – which he wholeheartedly commended – means, includes that

‘It favours the existence of whatever is peculiar and local’.76 Something that for

Mill is a characteristic of ‘nationality in the vulgar sense’, for Pearson is a charac-

teristic of ‘patriotism’. Clearly, there were no separate languages of nationalism

and patriotism. Attempts to distinguish neatly between different discourses of a

good and commendable ‘patriotism’, on the one hand, and an unpalatable ‘nation-

alism’, on the other, such as the one made by Maurizio Viroli, cannot capture the

picture.77 The language of ‘patriotism’ was inextricably intertwined with that of

‘nationalism’ or ‘nationality’ throughout the 19th century. The issue is, rather,

to establish how each author understood the ‘patriotism’ or ‘nationalism’ they

commended or condemned, and how they saw its relationship with broader

commitments to humanity.

In the second place, another overarching conclusion that emerges is that ‘patri-

otism’ and universalist or cosmopolitan commitment to ‘humanity’ were not seen

as antithetical or incompatible. On the contrary, patriotism was praised for being

an indispensable stepping-stone towards cosmopolitan sympathy and benevo-

lence for the whole of humanity. Thus, to come back to the example afforded by

Harrison, no matter how vociferously he asserted his ‘nationalism’, I would not

call him a ‘nationalist’ when using today’s categories. From all attempts at a

definition of ‘nationalism’ the one that can really prove useful here is one of thesimplest: ‘strong national emotion, combined with a strong tendency to exalt the

idea of the nation above all other ideas’.78 Harrison may have shown strong emo-


113








tions in his defence of ‘England’, but he by no means ‘exalt[ed] the idea of the

nation above all other ideas’. For him, as for most of the thinkers discussed in this

article, the nation was applauded, in H.S. Jones’s remarkably felicitous formula-

tion, ‘as a step away from the particular and towards the universal’, and ‘not

because they wished to emphasize their own nation’s particularity in relation to

other nations. . . . The nation was particular in relation to other nations, but wasthe most general and universal of actual communities.’79 No better proof is

needed than the statement by Harrison: ‘It is for us [Positivists] to insist how

precious to the life of the world are these growing aggregates of people when the

lofty conception of nation first comes to supersede the narrower idea of clan or

tribe.’80 The ‘lofty conception of nation’ is extolled, but the priorities are clear. It

is ‘the life of the world’ that offers the ultimate criterion, and ‘these growing

aggregates of people’ are precious to it, a means to its purposes, serving its well-

being better than the narrower groups of clan or tribe. The value of the nation is

instrumental, derivative, like it is with utilitarians. Third, most of the thinkers discussed here avoided use of the term ‘cosmopoli-

tanism’ (or used it only to distance themselves from it), due to ‘the disgrace

attached to it when it was supposed to indicate a contempt for national distinc-

tions’ or to be the attitude of those who equated ‘Cosmopolitan’ with ‘superior to

country’. This conception of cosmopolitanism as standing for ‘detachment from

the bonds, commitments, and affiliations that constrain ordinary nation-bound

lives’ and as being ‘a luxuriously free-floating view from above’, they all rejected.

Thus, fourth, all thinkers discussed in this article believed that a form of

‘patriotism’ was necessary. Some of them went on to define that commendable

patriotism in more detail than others. At the same time, all of them complained

(some more vociferously than others) against some other, reprehensible form or

version of ‘patriotism’ that was, they thought, as widespread as it was miscon-

ceived. The term was highly contested in the 19th century as it had been in the

18th, under different forms and conditions.81

Finally, this article comes to corroborate one more of the conclusions drawn by

H.S. Jones in the first article of this special issue. If there is ‘a British exceptional-

ism’ in the idea of nationality that Jones discusses, it is that it was usually

articulated in religious terms.82 Jones focuses on the Liberal Anglicans. But most

of the thinkers discussed in this article also articulated their views on patriotism

and its relation to humanity at large in religious terms, though not always in

orthodox religious terms. The reason may not be completely unrelated to a

remark made by Pearson in the last decade of the period covered here: ‘Probably,

even now, there is essential truth in the description of English society which a

German cynic gave thirty years ago. “A man in England may be an atheist, but he

must belong to the Church of the atheists.”’83


114








Notes

1. Georgios Varouxakis (2001) ‘Patriotism’, in A.S. Leoussi (ed.) Encyclopaedia of

Nationalism, pp. 239–42. New Brunswick, NJ, and London: Transaction Publishers.

2. Georgios Varouxakis (2002) Mill on Nationality, pp. 1–20 and passim. London and New York: Routledge.

3. It is important to note that Mill introduced very significant changes to his initial text inlater editions of the Logic, which go a long way towards showing that he was worried

about the implications of ‘nationality’ and wished to promote a kind of enlightened

patriotism instead. See more in Varouxakis (n. 2), pp. 126–7.4. Emphasis added.

5. John Stuart Mill (1963–91) The Collected Works of John Stuart Mill , general editor F.E.L.Priestley and subsequently John M. Robson, 33 vols, vol. 8, p. 923. Toronto and

London: University of Toronto Press.6. See Georgios Varouxakis (2002) Victorian Political Thought on France and the French,

pp. 4–11, 13–14, 15, 16–21, 35–47. Basingstoke and New York: Palgrave. Also,

Varouxakis (n. 2), pp. 94–110.7. Cf. Jeremy Bentham (1992) ‘Principles of International Law’, in J. Bentham, The Works

of Jeremy Bentham, ed. John Bowring, vol. 2, pp. 535–60. Edinburgh: William Tait. Anthony Ellis (1992) ‘Utilitarianism and International Ethics’, in Terry Nardin and

David R. Mapel (eds) Traditions of International Ethics , pp. 158–79, esp. p. 164.

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.8. ‘Utility of Religion’, in Mill (n. 5), vol. 10, pp. 420–3.

9. Emphasis (both times) added: ibid., vol. 10, p. 421.10. Varouxakis (n. 6), pp. 21–30. For Stephen’s conception of patriotism see: Julia Stapleton

(1998) ‘James Fitzjames Stephen: Liberalism, Patriotism, and English Liberty’, Victorian

Studies 41: 243–65.

11. See e.g. Mill (n. 5), vol. 21, p. 112.12. See Matthew Arnold (1960–77) The Complete Prose Works of Matthew Arnold , ed. R.H.

Super, 11 vols, vol. 5, p. 370 (editor’s ‘Critical and explanatory notes’). Ann Arbor:

University of Michigan Press.13. M. Arnold, ‘My Countrymen’, ibid., vol. 5, p. 27.

14. James Fitzjames Stephen (1866) ‘Mr. Arnold and the Middle Classes’, Saturday Review 21:161–3, esp. p. 163.

15. Nassau W. Senior (1842) ‘France, America, and Britain’, Edinburgh Review 75: 1–48,

pp. 18–20.16. For some examples see Arnold (n. 12), vol. 5, pp. 27, 29–31. Also, M. Arnold

(1996–2002) The Letters of Matthew Arnold , ed. Cecil Y. Lang, 6 vols, vol. 2, p. 367.Charlottesville and London: University Press of Virginia. Cf. Varouxakis (n. 6), pp. 25–7.

17. See Herbert Spencer (1873) ‘The Study of Sociology: IX. The Bias of Patriotism’, The

Contemporary Review 21: 475–502, esp. pp. 485–502. Also, Esmé Wingfield-Stratford

(1913) The History of English Patriotism, 2 vols, vol. 2, pp. 390–9. London: John Lane.

18. See e.g. Arnold (n. 12), vol. 5, p. 355.19. Emphasis added: Arnold (n. 16), vol. 3, pp. 17–18.

20. For an oft-quoted account of the impartiality thesis in contemporary political philosophy see Thomas E. Hill, Jr., ‘The Importance of Autonomy’, in Eva Kittay and Diane Meyers

(eds) (1998) Women and Moral Theory. Totowa, NJ: Rowman and Allanheld.

21. Spencer (n. 17).

22. Ibid. pp. 476–7.23. David Duncan (1908) The Life and Letters of Herbert Spencer , p. 449. London: Methuen.24. Herbert Spencer, ‘Patriotism’, in H. Spencer (1902) Facts and Comments , pp. 122–7. New


115








York: D. Appleton & Co. Cf. Spencer, ‘Imperialism and Slavery’, ibid. pp. 157–71;‘Re-barbarization’, ibid. pp. 172–88.

25. See David Weinstein (2005) ‘Imagining Darwinism’, in Bart Schultz and Georgios

Varouxakis (eds) Utilitarianism and Empire, pp. 189–209. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books.26. Spencer (n. 24).

27. Ibid. p. 125. In The Man versus the State (1884) Spencer had attacked the solicitude of

some ‘to maintain our supposed national “interests” or national “ prestige”’ by aggressiveimperialist wars and what he called ‘this extreme concern for those of our own blood

which goes along with utter unconcern for those of other blood’. Herbert Spencer (1994)

Political Writings , ed. John Offer, pp. 132–3. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

28. Cf. Ernest Barker (1914) Political Thought in England: From Herbert Spencer to the Present

Day, pp. 42–7. New York: Henry Holt. Peter P. Nicholson (1990) The Political Philosophyof the British Idealists: Selected Studies , p. 307, n. 122. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

29. Emphasis added. Thomas Hill Green (1931) Lectures on the Principles of Political

Obligation, ed. Bernard Bosanquet, p. 166. London: Longmans, Green & Co.

30. Ibid. pp. 159, 170–3.31. Ibid. p. 175.32. Emphasis added.

33. Emphasis added. Ibid. pp. 159–76.34. Ibid. p. 177.

35. Ibid. p. 178.

36. Ibid. pp. 177–9.37. T.H. Green (1890) Prolegomena to Ethics , 3rd edition, ed. A.C. Bradley, pp. 217–31.

Oxford: Clarendon Press. For more on Green and other British idealists on related issuessee David Boucher (1994) ‘British Idealism, the State, and International Relations’,

Journal of the History of Ideas 55: 671–94. David Boucher (1995) ‘British Idealist

International Theory’, Bulletin of the Hegel Society of Great Britain 31: 73–89. PeterNicholson (1976) ‘Philosophical Idealism and International Politics: A Reply to Dr.

Savigear’, British Journal of International Studies 2: 261–80. J.R. Gibbins (1992)‘Liberalism, Nationalism and the British Idealists’, History of European Ideas 15: 491–7.

38. Henry Sidgwick (1962) The Methods of Ethics , 7th edition, p. 251. London: Macmillan.39. Henry Sidgwick, ‘Public Morality’, in H. Sidgwick (1998) Practical Ethics: A Collection of

Addresses and Essays (with an Introduction by Sissela Bok), pp. 31–46, pp. 36–7. Oxford:Oxford University Press (originally published 1898).

40. Emphasis added.

41. Henry Sidgwick (1919) The Elements of Politics , 4th edn, pp. 298–9. London: Macmillan.

42. Emphasis added. Ibid. pp. 308–9.43. Emphasis added. Ibid. p. 309.44. Ibid. pp. 314–15. For a thorough and critical treatment of Sidgwick’s attitude towards

colonies, imperialism and race, and of his Eurocentrism, see Bart Schultz, ‘Sidgwick’sRacism’, in Schultz and Varouxakis (n. 25). Bart Schultz (2004) Henry Sidgwick: Eye of the

Universe – An Intellectual Biography, pp. 605–68. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

45. Cf. Jeremy Bentham, ‘Emancipate Your Colonies’ (1793), in J. Bentham (2002) Rights,

Representation, and Reform: Nonsense Upon Stilts and Other Writings on the French Revolution(The Collected Works of Jeremy Bentham), ed. P. Schofield, C. Pease-Watkin and C.Blamires, pp. 289–315. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Stephen Conway (1989) ‘Bentham on

Peace and War’, Utilitas 1: 82–101, p. 93. Varouxakis (n. 2), pp. 33–7 and passim.

46. As Ritchie put it:

He [Sidgwick] nowhere arrives at any conclusion which would differ very widely from


116








that of the average man of the professional and commercial middle-class at the present day. The method is Bentham’s; but there is none of Bentham’s strong critical

antagonism to the institutions of his time . . .

Quoted in Schultz (n. 44), p. 561. Sidgwick was a supporter of ‘nationalities strugglingfor freedom’ and an enthusiastic admirer of Mazzini, though he (as the brother-in-law of

Arthur Balfour) did not extend this support to the Irish – he was against home rule andindeed led the Unionist dons at Cambridge. See Christopher Harvie (1976) The Lights of

Liberalism: University Liberals and the Challenge of Democracy 1860–86 , pp. 101, 219–20,

221, 225–6, 237. London: Allen Lane.47. Duncan S.A. Bell (2005) ‘Unity and Difference: John Robert Seeley and the Political

Theology of International Relations’, Review of International Studies (forthcoming). OnSeeley see also H.S. Jones’s contribution to this volume.

48. Emphasis added. Charles H. Pearson (1893) National Life and Character: A Forecast ,pp. 223–6. London: Macmillan.

49. Emphasis added. Ibid. pp. 225–6.

50. Emphasis added. Frederic Harrison (1880) ‘Empire and Humanity’, in F. Harrison

(1908) National and Social Problems , pp. 237–57, p. 247. New York: Macmillan.51. Ibid. pp. 247–8.52. Emphasis (both times) added. Frederic Harrison (1896) ‘The True Cosmopolis’, in F.

Harrison (1906) Memories and Thoughts: Men – Books – Cities – Art , pp. 202–18, p. 205.London: Macmillan Co.

53. Emphasis added.

54. Harrison (n. 52), pp. 210–11.55. Frederic Harrison (1898a) ‘A Word for England’, in Harrison (n. 52), pp. 260–5. (1898b)

‘On a Scotch Reply’, ibid. pp. 266–71. (1898c) ‘The Scottish Petition to the Queen’, ibid.pp. 272–7.

56. Emphasis added. Frederic Harrison (1866) ‘England and France’, in F. Harrison (ed.) International Policy: Essays on the Foreign Relations of England , pp. 124–5. London:Chapman & Hall.

57. Cf. John M[ackinnon] Robertson (1998) Patriotism and Empire, ed. Peter Cain. London:Routledge/Thoemmes Press (originally published 1899). J.A. Hobson (1901) The

Psychology of Jingoism. London: Grant Richards. J.A. Hobson (1902) Imperialism: A Study.New York: J. Pott & Co. On some of the ‘intellectual liberals’ who were ‘dissenters from

“greatness”’ (Morley, J.M. Robertson, L.T. Hobhouse, J.A. Hobson et al.) at the time of

the Boer War and afterwards see J.H. Grainger (1986) Patriotisms: Britain 1900–1939,pp. 140–66 and passim. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

58. See Schultz (2004, in n. 44), pp. 670–2. Harvie (n. 46), p. 237.

59. Frederic Harrison (Dec. 1899) ‘The Boer War’, in Harrison (n. 50), pp. 219–22, p. 222.New York: Macmillan.

60. Harrison (n. 52), p. 210.

61. Pheng Cheah and Bruce Robbins (eds) (1998) Cosmopolitics: Thinking and Feeling beyond the Nation, p. vii. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press.

62. See, for instance: Samuel Scheffler (1999) ‘Conceptions of Cosmopolitanism’, Utilitas 11:

255–76. Also, Steven Vertovec and Robin Cohen (eds) (2002) Conceiving Cosmopolitanism:

Theory, Context, and Practice. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

63. See e.g. Pearson (n. 48), pp. 220–2. Harrison (n. 52), pp. 210–11. Harrison (n. 50),p. 222. F.D. Maurice (1893) Social Morality, a new edn, pp. 15, 105–7, 205–6. London:

Macmillan.64. Cheah and Robbins (n. 61), p. 1.65. See e.g. Harrison (n. 50), p. 256.


117








66. Maurice (n. 63), pp. 15–17. See also Bell (n. 47). Arnoldian Liberal Anglicans andComtists (including Harrison) had been spending a lot of time together in Oxford

societies in the 1850s of course: see Christopher Kent (1978) Brains and Numbers: Elitism,

Comtism, and Democracy in Mid-Victorian England , pp. 21–3. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. And a major influence on Harrison had been the Liberal Anglican

Benjamin Jowett – on the convergences and relations between Arnoldians and Comtists

see H.S. Jones (2000) Victorian Political Thought , pp. 82–3. Basingstoke: Macmillan.67. Harrison (n. 56), p. 92.68. Ibid., pp. 92–3.

69. Harrison (n. 52), pp. 210–11.

70. Harrison (n. 50), p. 240; (n. 52), pp. 205, 210.71. Harrison (n. 52), pp. 260, 263.

72. Ibid. p. 277.73. Ibid. p. 266.

74. Emphasis added. Ibid. p. 266.75. Ibid. pp. 263–5.

76. Pearson (n. 48), p. 187.77. See Maurizio Viroli (1995) For Love of Country: An Essay on Patriotism and Nationalism.Oxford: Clarendon Press. For an apposite critique of Viroli’s thesis see: Erica Benner

(1997) ‘Nationality without Nationalism’, Journal of Political Ideologies 2: 189–206. Cf. also Varouxakis (n. 2), pp. 26–37.

78. Conor Cruise O’Brien (1988) ‘Nationalism and the French Revolution’, in Geoffrey Best

(ed.) The Permanent Revolution: The French Revolution and its Legacy, 1789–1989, p. 18.London: Fontana Press.

79. Jones (n. 66), p. 49. See also Jones’s article in this volume.80. Harrison (n. 50), p. 248.

81. Cf. Hugh Cunningham (1989) ‘The Language of Patriotism’, in Raphael Samuel (ed.)

Patriotism: The Making and Unmaking of British National Identity, 3 vols, vol. 1, pp. 57–89.London: Routledge. For recent work on the 20th century see Julia Stapleton (2005)

‘Citizenship versus Patriotism in Twentieth-Century England’, The Historical Journal 48:1–28.

82. H.S. Jones, ‘The Idea of the National in Victorian Political Thought’, in this volume.83. Pearson (n. 48), p. 204.


118

10 ‘Patriotism’, ‘Cosmopolitanism’ and ‘Humanity’ in Victorian Political Thought

Documents