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In a delightful passage from Kingsley Amis's Memoirs, the
author recalls a dinnertable squabble with the Conservative MP Enoch
Powell. At issue was the Latin derivation and conjugation of the
verb "impinge." Powell insisted on a third-person impaxi;
in a jesting footnote, Amis corrected him: impegi. I was
reminded of this scene after Arthur Cash, for the third time (63,
138, 191), informed readers of John Wilkes that pego
was an "antique word for penis." Cash's scholarship takes the racy
edge off his material—fair enough—but his cautious style
also distances us from Wilkes and from the spirit of his Age. John
Wilkes was a radical and a debauchee, but he would have gladly put
pego aside to discuss inoffensive verbs and nouns with Powell,
a cast-iron Tory of apolitical brilliance, and Amis, the three-sheets-to-the-wind
genius of comic literature. Cash
is a literary scholar of eminence, and the attention he brought
to his editorial treatment of Wilkes's Essay on Woman is
here usefully directed to Wilkes's life. Too often, however, Cash's
respect for his subject is as much hindrance as help. In an afterword,
the author denies that his biographical effort is definitive,
but the text suggests otherwise, so closely does it follow its
man. Chronology dominates narrative histories; in Wilkes,
nearly every grain in the hourglass is distinguishable. Such minute
care can be self-defeating, and several times Cash loses his footing
in the quicksand of detail. Aristocratic genealogy and protocol
are especially troublesome: the earl of Sandwich is suddenly and
counterfactually elevated to a dukedom (33); the common practice
by which heirs to the peerage took courtesy titles is regarded
as pretentious (146), when of course it was no more pretentious
than claiming any noble title; Lord North, prime minister during
the American Revolution, is misidentified (146 and in the index)—his
Christian name was "Frederick," not "George." Given the pattern,
one is not so surprised to find Cash referring to one of the outstanding
authorities on the eighteenth-century upper classes and their
politics as "Louis" Namier (275). These mistakes would matter
less if Cash's analytical framework were more robust, but he makes
no attempt to do what the uncited Linda Colley (another Yale University
Press author as well as a Namier biographer) has done with Wilkes
and his contemporaries in Britons: turn particular stories
inside out until they reveal something about the national and
imperial culture.
Subscribers to this journal will
want some discussion of the relationship between personality and
law; something of the sort is promised by the subtitle. Cash is
sensitive to the power of the Wilkes myth, but one must still
read John Brewer's Party Ideology and Popular Politics
to learn how thoroughly that myth and its ideological contents
were commodified by the ambitious (yet frustrated) middling sort
in Britain and British-America. Cash provides rich descriptions
of the major cases and causes to which Wilkes was party, but dedicated
students of the history of civil liberties will know that Zenger's
acquittal could not set a precedent in Westminster if it failed
to do so in New York. The standard interpretation of libel law
persisted on both sides of the Atlantic for decades. And students
of jurisprudence will once again be saddened by Lord Mansfield's
historical infirmity: his papers having been destroyed in the
Gordon Riots, he cannot now speak for himself. In Cash's work,
he plays a familiar role, that of the cunning foil, but Cash nevertheless
deserves credit for bringing us closer to Mansfield's devilish
adversary, who could, upon measuring the main chance, rouse a
mob or face it down.
Wilkes did the latter during the
Gordon episode, and, if he could not save everything (and the
fate of the Bank of England worried him much more than the disposition
of Mansfield's library), his actions in 1780 enriched a legend
that was and is more lustrous for being tarnished. Liberal and
conservative, gentleman and rogue, idealist and hustler: John
Wilkes is important exactly because his impulses were ambivalent
and impure. He was, among other things, a better representative:
of the people, of history, and of the Anglo-American constitutional
process, wherein principles are distilled from a mash of accidents
and originally idiosyncratic litigations. Readers of Cash's devoted
biography cannot help but have a deeper appreciation for this
marvelous fellow and his legacy.
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