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The Royalist Revolution: Monarchy and the American Founding
Winner of the Society of the Cincinnati History Prize, Society of the Cincinnati in the State of New Jersey
Finalist, George Washington Prize
A Choice Outstanding Academic Title of 2015
Generations of students have been taught that the American Revolution was a revolt against royal tyranny. In this revisionist account, Eric Nelson argues that a great many of our “founding fathers” saw themselves as rebels against the British Parliament, not the Crown. The Royalist Revolution interprets the patriot campaign of the 1770s as an insurrection in favor of royal power―driven by the conviction that the Lords and Commons had usurped the just prerogatives of the monarch.
“ The Royalist Revolution is a thought-provoking book, and Nelson is to be commended for reviving discussion of the complex ideology of the American Revolution. He reminds us that there was a spectrum of opinion even among the most ardent patriots and a deep British influence on the political institutions of the new country.”
―Andrew O’Shaughnessy, Wall Street Journal
“A scrupulous archaeology of American revolutionary thought.”
―Thomas Meaney, The Nation
“A powerful double-barrelled challenge to historiographical orthodoxy.”
―Colin Kidd, London Review of Books
“[A] brilliant and provocative analysis of the American Revolution.”
―John Brewer, New York Review of Books
Finalist, George Washington Prize
A Choice Outstanding Academic Title of 2015
Generations of students have been taught that the American Revolution was a revolt against royal tyranny. In this revisionist account, Eric Nelson argues that a great many of our “founding fathers” saw themselves as rebels against the British Parliament, not the Crown. The Royalist Revolution interprets the patriot campaign of the 1770s as an insurrection in favor of royal power―driven by the conviction that the Lords and Commons had usurped the just prerogatives of the monarch.
“ The Royalist Revolution is a thought-provoking book, and Nelson is to be commended for reviving discussion of the complex ideology of the American Revolution. He reminds us that there was a spectrum of opinion even among the most ardent patriots and a deep British influence on the political institutions of the new country.”
―Andrew O’Shaughnessy, Wall Street Journal
“A scrupulous archaeology of American revolutionary thought.”
―Thomas Meaney, The Nation
“A powerful double-barrelled challenge to historiographical orthodoxy.”
―Colin Kidd, London Review of Books
“[A] brilliant and provocative analysis of the American Revolution.”
―John Brewer, New York Review of Books
400 pages, Paperback
First published October 6, 2014
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January 23, 2021
In this impressive work of revisionist intellectual history, Eric Nelson argues—contrary to the popular wisdom imparted to generations of Americans—that the American Revolution was understood by many of its leading figures not as a revolt against monarchy, but rather as a defense of ancient monarchical prerogatives against the usurpations of an avaricious and self-aggrandizing parliament. Prominent American thinkers, including John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, James Wilson, Alexander Hamilton, Benjamin Rush, and even, to some extent, Thomas Jefferson, responded to the imperial crisis of the 1760s and 70s by developing a constitutional theory that alarmed the predominant British whigs, because it assigned to the British monarchy a level of independence and discretionary power that it had not exercised since the reign of the deposed Stuart king Charles I. This patriot royalism, decried as “Jacobitism” by loyalist critics, proved incompatible with the British political system, under which the monarchy had been subdued and its powers circumscribed after the hard-won parliamentary triumphs of the 1640s and 1688. The Revolution was precipitated by an impasse between American royalists and British whigs; and far from being rendered obsolete by American independence, patriot royalism went on to shape the United States Constitution, leaving a lasting monarchical imprint on the American political order.
The seventeenth century had been one of parliamentary ascendancy in England. The kings, who had traditionally been authorized to dissolve parliament at their leisure or to use their “negative voice” to veto legislation, found their wings clipped and their prerogatives subsumed by those of an increasingly truculent and jealous legislature; first temporarily, albeit radically, during the Cromwellian interregnum of the 1650s, and more permanently after the Glorious Revolution of 1688. The monarchy was reconfigured as a mere “executor” of the parliamentary will: because of its representational character—republican theorists viewed the legislature as a microcosm of the whole people—defiance of parliament came to be equated with subversion of the state itself. Rather than ruling through personal discretion, the British monarchs now had to act through ministers who were themselves members of the Houses of Lords or Commons, and who had to command legislative majorities to implement royal policy.
Before the imperial crisis following the end of the Seven Years’ War in 1763, the American colonists typically understood themselves to be the inheritors of this whig legacy. But with the postwar parliamentarian attempts to tax the colonies directly for the first time, long-dormant jurisdictional questions came to the fore, prompting colonial political thinkers to articulate novel arguments against the right of parliament to tax the colonies; or indeed, to make any binding legislation for them at all. To this end, and to the dismay of their British interlocutors, they self-consciously took up the old constitutional theory of the Stuarts. The British and the American colonists, they argued, were separate peoples with separate legislatures, and the British parliament had no more right to make laws for the colonies than Virginia’s House of Burgesses had to make laws for England. The two peoples were connected only by the person of the king, who had the responsibility of protecting the liberties of his subjects by overriding any attempt by a self-governing legislature on one side of the Atlantic to impose its will on those of the other.
To play this role, the king would have to disentangle himself from parliament and reassert his “negative voice” over its whims; a proposition which British whigs found unacceptable. Furthermore, the patriots argued that the various charters through which the colonies had been founded were agreed between their respective proprietors and the kings themselves, without the involvement of parliament; and were thus, to some extent, the personal fiefdoms of the British monarch. The kings ruled the colonies directly, and parliament only began to interfere (illegitimately) in this arrangement—asserting its jurisdiction over the colonies—after its usurpation of the royal prerogative following the execution of Charles I. The Navigation Act of 1651, which regulated colonial trade policy, marked the beginning of a long parliamentary project of subordinating a free people across the sea. The prospect of a king untethered to parliament and bolstered by extensive personal domains in the New World represented as grave a constitutional crisis for the British as parliamentarian claims over the colonies did for the Americans, making it difficult to envision how the empire could stay together without making one side of the dispute feel like a subjugated people.
Undergirding this jurisdictional impasse were competing theories about the nature of political legitimacy. Whigs advanced a theory based on “resemblance”: legitimacy was tied to the extent to which the agents of government actually resembled, in some sense, the complexities of the body politic. A single person could not do this; only a sizeable group, in the form of a legislature, could adequately represent the full diversity of a complex society. A properly-constituted legislature could effectively become the state in miniature, possessing its full “virtue”, or power. Royalist patriots opted instead for an “authorization” model of legitimacy, according to which the issue of resemblance was a red herring, and any configuration of government—monarchy, aristocracy, democracy, or any combination thereof—could be legitimate if it was authorized by the people, either through elections or through some vaguer means of assent.
When the colonists petitioned George III to accept their constitutional theory as the imperial crisis deepened, they were effectively asking him to become an emperor. The king’s rejection of these entreaties, and his 1775 declaration that the colonies were in a state of rebellion, was hailed by British whigs as an act of profound self-denial and public spiritedness. The king had resisted the siren’s song of the colonists, choosing loyalty to his country and its constitution over his own aggrandizement. George III became, in this sense, a mirror image of George Washington, whose supposed refusal to become a king (though he was never explicitly offered this title) became legendary on the other side of the Atlantic. The patriots, who had embraced the king so tightly over the previous decade, reacted to his rebuffs like a spurned lover, and their rhetoric took a dramatic secessionist turn. But rather than advocating the christening of an American monarchy—whether under a whig or royalist model—the popular imagination of the colonists turned suddenly against monarchy itself, and in favor of a peculiar brand of republicanism. The reason for this can be summarized in two words: Common Sense.
Thomas Paine’s pamphlet became a sensation in 1776, forever altering the American consciousness and anathematizing the title of king. But, fatefully, Paine did not draw upon the traditional neo-Roman understanding of republicanism. Instead, his treatise was centered on a curious Hebraic republicanism, which he had retrieved from the writings of John Milton, who in turn had been influenced by works of Midrashic exegesis that had become newly available in the seventeenth century. Paine, following Milton, certain radical Midrashim, and the Judeo-Roman historian Josephus, argued that the people of Israel had originally been constituted as a theocracy, with God Himself as their ruler. God had ruled His people through patriarchs, prophets, judges, and the divinations of the Urim and Thummim; but at the time of the prophet Samuel, the Israelites chose to “dethrone” God and replace Him with a human king, committing the primordial sin of idolatry. Furthermore, this original “theocratic” republicanism was not intended only for the chosen people, but was instead to serve as a model for every political society. The Hebrew republic was the ideal constitution.
The Hebraic model of republicanism differed from the neo-Roman one in a way that made it uniquely compatible with patriot royalism. The neo-Roman model identified republican liberty as the freedom of the state and its people from arbitrary or discretionary power. To be reliant upon the personal will of another was to effectively be a slave, so every element of a republican political order had to be subordinated to the laws that constitute the state. This model did not proscribe kingship, or indeed any other political arrangement, but only required that the powers of a ruler be circumscribed by the imperative of the common good, which was usually mediated by a representative body. This was, in essence, the whig understanding of republicanism, under which the king was an “executor” without an independent prerogative.
The Hebraic model, conversely, was concerned not with the powers and prerogatives of kings, but rather with the status and trappings of the title itself. Republican rulers could be extraordinarily powerful, like Cromwell was as Lord Protector of England and William of Orange was as Stadtholder of Holland, so long as they did not assume the kingly title and the decadent trappings of courtly life. Embracing Hebraic republicanism allowed the patriot intellectuals who had advanced royalist arguments before American independence to continue advocating a strong and independent executive power for the new United States, as long as the chief executive was not actually called a king. Paine’s intervention had been doubly ironic: firstly, because it cleared the way for an American republicanism that was paradoxically compatible with an older tory royalism; and secondly, because Paine himself did not believe a word of his own Biblical arguments, being an atheist and a critic of organized religion.
Most of the prominent patriots who had advanced a neo-Stuart political theory in the 1770s—Adams, Wilson, Hamilton, et al, with the notable exception of Franklin—became champions of a strong American presidency during the Constitutional Convention of 1787. A robust chief executive and head of state, who could stand above the legislative squabbles of the several states, was necessary to preserve the American Union, just as an emancipated British monarchy would have been needed to hold the British isles and the American colonies together. Certain patriot ministers, like Samuel Langdon and Joseph Huntington, even expanded on the language of Biblical analogy inaugurated by Paine, and framed the American presidency—which would preside over the thirteen original colonies—as a providential successor of the prophetic leadership role assumed by Moses and Joshua over the twelve-plus-one tribes of Israel (the tribe of Joseph having been divided between the progeny of Ephraim and Manasseh). Imagine, if you will, Donald Trump and Joe Biden as our latter-day Moses and Joshua.
As Nelson concludes:
“On one side of the Atlantic, there would be kings without monarchy; on the other, monarchy without kings. Which of the two sides got the better of the bargain is, of course, an open question—but at least it is the right one.”
The seventeenth century had been one of parliamentary ascendancy in England. The kings, who had traditionally been authorized to dissolve parliament at their leisure or to use their “negative voice” to veto legislation, found their wings clipped and their prerogatives subsumed by those of an increasingly truculent and jealous legislature; first temporarily, albeit radically, during the Cromwellian interregnum of the 1650s, and more permanently after the Glorious Revolution of 1688. The monarchy was reconfigured as a mere “executor” of the parliamentary will: because of its representational character—republican theorists viewed the legislature as a microcosm of the whole people—defiance of parliament came to be equated with subversion of the state itself. Rather than ruling through personal discretion, the British monarchs now had to act through ministers who were themselves members of the Houses of Lords or Commons, and who had to command legislative majorities to implement royal policy.
Before the imperial crisis following the end of the Seven Years’ War in 1763, the American colonists typically understood themselves to be the inheritors of this whig legacy. But with the postwar parliamentarian attempts to tax the colonies directly for the first time, long-dormant jurisdictional questions came to the fore, prompting colonial political thinkers to articulate novel arguments against the right of parliament to tax the colonies; or indeed, to make any binding legislation for them at all. To this end, and to the dismay of their British interlocutors, they self-consciously took up the old constitutional theory of the Stuarts. The British and the American colonists, they argued, were separate peoples with separate legislatures, and the British parliament had no more right to make laws for the colonies than Virginia’s House of Burgesses had to make laws for England. The two peoples were connected only by the person of the king, who had the responsibility of protecting the liberties of his subjects by overriding any attempt by a self-governing legislature on one side of the Atlantic to impose its will on those of the other.
To play this role, the king would have to disentangle himself from parliament and reassert his “negative voice” over its whims; a proposition which British whigs found unacceptable. Furthermore, the patriots argued that the various charters through which the colonies had been founded were agreed between their respective proprietors and the kings themselves, without the involvement of parliament; and were thus, to some extent, the personal fiefdoms of the British monarch. The kings ruled the colonies directly, and parliament only began to interfere (illegitimately) in this arrangement—asserting its jurisdiction over the colonies—after its usurpation of the royal prerogative following the execution of Charles I. The Navigation Act of 1651, which regulated colonial trade policy, marked the beginning of a long parliamentary project of subordinating a free people across the sea. The prospect of a king untethered to parliament and bolstered by extensive personal domains in the New World represented as grave a constitutional crisis for the British as parliamentarian claims over the colonies did for the Americans, making it difficult to envision how the empire could stay together without making one side of the dispute feel like a subjugated people.
Undergirding this jurisdictional impasse were competing theories about the nature of political legitimacy. Whigs advanced a theory based on “resemblance”: legitimacy was tied to the extent to which the agents of government actually resembled, in some sense, the complexities of the body politic. A single person could not do this; only a sizeable group, in the form of a legislature, could adequately represent the full diversity of a complex society. A properly-constituted legislature could effectively become the state in miniature, possessing its full “virtue”, or power. Royalist patriots opted instead for an “authorization” model of legitimacy, according to which the issue of resemblance was a red herring, and any configuration of government—monarchy, aristocracy, democracy, or any combination thereof—could be legitimate if it was authorized by the people, either through elections or through some vaguer means of assent.
When the colonists petitioned George III to accept their constitutional theory as the imperial crisis deepened, they were effectively asking him to become an emperor. The king’s rejection of these entreaties, and his 1775 declaration that the colonies were in a state of rebellion, was hailed by British whigs as an act of profound self-denial and public spiritedness. The king had resisted the siren’s song of the colonists, choosing loyalty to his country and its constitution over his own aggrandizement. George III became, in this sense, a mirror image of George Washington, whose supposed refusal to become a king (though he was never explicitly offered this title) became legendary on the other side of the Atlantic. The patriots, who had embraced the king so tightly over the previous decade, reacted to his rebuffs like a spurned lover, and their rhetoric took a dramatic secessionist turn. But rather than advocating the christening of an American monarchy—whether under a whig or royalist model—the popular imagination of the colonists turned suddenly against monarchy itself, and in favor of a peculiar brand of republicanism. The reason for this can be summarized in two words: Common Sense.
Thomas Paine’s pamphlet became a sensation in 1776, forever altering the American consciousness and anathematizing the title of king. But, fatefully, Paine did not draw upon the traditional neo-Roman understanding of republicanism. Instead, his treatise was centered on a curious Hebraic republicanism, which he had retrieved from the writings of John Milton, who in turn had been influenced by works of Midrashic exegesis that had become newly available in the seventeenth century. Paine, following Milton, certain radical Midrashim, and the Judeo-Roman historian Josephus, argued that the people of Israel had originally been constituted as a theocracy, with God Himself as their ruler. God had ruled His people through patriarchs, prophets, judges, and the divinations of the Urim and Thummim; but at the time of the prophet Samuel, the Israelites chose to “dethrone” God and replace Him with a human king, committing the primordial sin of idolatry. Furthermore, this original “theocratic” republicanism was not intended only for the chosen people, but was instead to serve as a model for every political society. The Hebrew republic was the ideal constitution.
The Hebraic model of republicanism differed from the neo-Roman one in a way that made it uniquely compatible with patriot royalism. The neo-Roman model identified republican liberty as the freedom of the state and its people from arbitrary or discretionary power. To be reliant upon the personal will of another was to effectively be a slave, so every element of a republican political order had to be subordinated to the laws that constitute the state. This model did not proscribe kingship, or indeed any other political arrangement, but only required that the powers of a ruler be circumscribed by the imperative of the common good, which was usually mediated by a representative body. This was, in essence, the whig understanding of republicanism, under which the king was an “executor” without an independent prerogative.
The Hebraic model, conversely, was concerned not with the powers and prerogatives of kings, but rather with the status and trappings of the title itself. Republican rulers could be extraordinarily powerful, like Cromwell was as Lord Protector of England and William of Orange was as Stadtholder of Holland, so long as they did not assume the kingly title and the decadent trappings of courtly life. Embracing Hebraic republicanism allowed the patriot intellectuals who had advanced royalist arguments before American independence to continue advocating a strong and independent executive power for the new United States, as long as the chief executive was not actually called a king. Paine’s intervention had been doubly ironic: firstly, because it cleared the way for an American republicanism that was paradoxically compatible with an older tory royalism; and secondly, because Paine himself did not believe a word of his own Biblical arguments, being an atheist and a critic of organized religion.
Most of the prominent patriots who had advanced a neo-Stuart political theory in the 1770s—Adams, Wilson, Hamilton, et al, with the notable exception of Franklin—became champions of a strong American presidency during the Constitutional Convention of 1787. A robust chief executive and head of state, who could stand above the legislative squabbles of the several states, was necessary to preserve the American Union, just as an emancipated British monarchy would have been needed to hold the British isles and the American colonies together. Certain patriot ministers, like Samuel Langdon and Joseph Huntington, even expanded on the language of Biblical analogy inaugurated by Paine, and framed the American presidency—which would preside over the thirteen original colonies—as a providential successor of the prophetic leadership role assumed by Moses and Joshua over the twelve-plus-one tribes of Israel (the tribe of Joseph having been divided between the progeny of Ephraim and Manasseh). Imagine, if you will, Donald Trump and Joe Biden as our latter-day Moses and Joshua.
As Nelson concludes:
“On one side of the Atlantic, there would be kings without monarchy; on the other, monarchy without kings. Which of the two sides got the better of the bargain is, of course, an open question—but at least it is the right one.”
November 8, 2024
Nelson, Eric. The Royalist Revolution: Monarchy and the American Founding. Harvard University Press, 2014.
This is political theology in its best and purest sense. As we expound Eric Nelson’s thesis, we have to make clear what he is not saying: he is not saying that the patriots were secretly monarchists. Although it is true that Adams and Wilson praised monarchy, and Alexander Hamilton practically wanted one by a different name, that would be going beyond the evidence. The royalists wanted a strong prerogative in the executive branch, one far stronger than was found in the English monarchy.
Flow of argument:
Dominion theory: The colonists were subject to the king, not Parliament because “the king’s prerogative crossed the ocean, but Parliament’s authority ended at Britain’s shore” (Nelson 30-31). They had history on their side, too, as most colonies began as some sort of charter from King James I or Charles I. Therefore, any attempt by Parliament to tax the colonists was in fact an attack on the king’s prerogative. This means, strangely enough, that certain patriots were actually arguing for the prerogative exercised in the days of the Stuart monarchy.
From here Nelson marshals numerous primary sources detailing the King’s prerogative over the colonies. I can only refer the reader to pages 38-52. The most telling passage is from Alexander Hamilton himself. Hamilton notes, “There must indeed be some connecting, pervading principle; but this is found in the person and prerogative of the King…His power is equal to his purpose, and his interest binds him to the due prosecution of it” (Farmer Refuted, 16, quoted in Nelson 58).
Representation
Who speaks for whom? All sides struggled with the difficulty of how one representative actually represents his people. Neither side had a particularly satisfactory answer. Republicans might think that one man, a king, cannot represent the diversity of people in his realm. But it is not clear how republicanism can escape this charge, either. This is one of Nelson’s best chapters. Even if one disagrees with him, such that the monarch better represents the people, one leaves with a clear sense of what “representation” actually entails.
Parliamentarian Theory: People can only be truly represented by an assembly, as argued originally by John Milton and Marchamont Nedham (66-67). In other words, legitimate representation can only happen if there is a sufficient enough image of those represented (69).
“Any agency” theory: This view was maintained by John Adams. For Adams, any agency, whether king or parliament, can represent a people (68).
Royalists countered the Parliamentarian Theory with the simple observation that any “authorized” agency can function as a legitimate representative. This claim came with a devastating inference, one which patriots felt most keenly: as Parliament had no authority beyond Britain, it could not legitimately represent the colonies (71).
There are even simpler problems with the Parliamentarian Theory. For example, it is not clear why elected representatives, almost none of whom I have voted for, better represent me than a monarch. To be sure, later American theorists were able to alleviate much of this problem with the invention of a bicameral legislature.
Moreover, most Englishmen, even with Parliamentarian representation, had little to no say about the actual laws of England, so it is not immediately clear what representation would change in America. The Parliamentarian Theory needed, which it probably got only too late, “some sort of mechanism by which the consent of some could stand for the consent of all” (71). As we will say, and as it played out in America, Parliament needed a “geometrically proportionate” image of the people,” capturing “the essence of the kingdom” (73).
As it stood, though, Parliament could never claim to be a real image of the people. Whatever the problems of monarchy, representative governments are always subject to factionalism, “whereas the king’s interests always align with the kingdom” (77). He “can only prosper if the kingdom prospers” (78).
Common Sense
Even though Thomas Paine was an ungodly buffoon, and even though his arguments were terrible, he did turn the intellectual tide. In short, if patriots were represented by the king, then they could directly indict the king for failing to promote their interests. Godly patriots had simply complained against the type of king George (or Charles Stuart) was, and 1 Samuel 8 was only an attack on bad kings. Paine and Milton saw it as an attack on kingship itself (though they never explained Deuteronomy 17 or the prophets' glowing references to Davis's kingship).
Accordingly, earlier writings defined “respublica to denote any correctly ordered state” (116). Now it meant representative government without a king. Although Nelson does not mention it, one can see a reverse idolatry here: as long as you do not have a king in your government, your government is good. Even better: if you have the sacred words “republic” or “representation,” your government is biblical. In light of that, Nelson does make the following observation: “The danger of Paine’s position…is that it encourages colonial readers to become anxious about precisely the wrong things–to pursue shadow over substance” (130).
Royalism Revisited
In chapters four and following, Nelson returns to the royalist argument. As it became clear that George would not budge, although he was technically following custom and tradition, royalist patriots revised their argument: they strengthened the executives prerogatives beyond what George had while removing the formal trappings of kingship.
For all practical purposes, and Alexander Hamilton’s skillful work made this very clear, Americans now had a monarch more powerful than George, for Hamilton wanted a “robust prerogative within reasonable bounds of a true mixed monarchy” (169). Or, as John Adams so frequently remarked, what they wanted, in spirit if not in form, is a republican monarchy: “England is a republic, a monarchical republic it is true, but a republic still: because the sovereignty, which is the legislative power, is vested in more than one man” (Defence, quoted in Nelson 206).
Evaluation
I agree with Nelson’s theory. There is one remaining doubt: if the original founders, most of them anyway, were sympathetic with the idea of monarchy, then why did America’s narrative of being “anti-king” gain such sway? We cannot simply blame it on modern education, nor can we blame most of it on the Deist Thomas Paine, though he shares some of the blame.
In terms of an intellectual argument, the “Patriot Royalists” were entirely correct. I do not see how one can argue against Nelson’s use of the sources. Strangely enough, even discounting Paine’s bombastic rhetoric, it seems clear that the Royalist narrative was destined to lose, and I think there are reasons for that. Whatever else may be true of King George and the earlier Stuarts, George had no intention of being a Stuart monarch (63). That is why Nelson’s thesis, although true, has a strange feel about it. By not modeling himself after a tyrannical monarch, George was seen as a tyrannical monarch! That is the main problem with Nelson’s argument, if it is actually a problem. The facts bear it out, however strange it may appear.
This is political theology in its best and purest sense. As we expound Eric Nelson’s thesis, we have to make clear what he is not saying: he is not saying that the patriots were secretly monarchists. Although it is true that Adams and Wilson praised monarchy, and Alexander Hamilton practically wanted one by a different name, that would be going beyond the evidence. The royalists wanted a strong prerogative in the executive branch, one far stronger than was found in the English monarchy.
Flow of argument:
Dominion theory: The colonists were subject to the king, not Parliament because “the king’s prerogative crossed the ocean, but Parliament’s authority ended at Britain’s shore” (Nelson 30-31). They had history on their side, too, as most colonies began as some sort of charter from King James I or Charles I. Therefore, any attempt by Parliament to tax the colonists was in fact an attack on the king’s prerogative. This means, strangely enough, that certain patriots were actually arguing for the prerogative exercised in the days of the Stuart monarchy.
From here Nelson marshals numerous primary sources detailing the King’s prerogative over the colonies. I can only refer the reader to pages 38-52. The most telling passage is from Alexander Hamilton himself. Hamilton notes, “There must indeed be some connecting, pervading principle; but this is found in the person and prerogative of the King…His power is equal to his purpose, and his interest binds him to the due prosecution of it” (Farmer Refuted, 16, quoted in Nelson 58).
Representation
Who speaks for whom? All sides struggled with the difficulty of how one representative actually represents his people. Neither side had a particularly satisfactory answer. Republicans might think that one man, a king, cannot represent the diversity of people in his realm. But it is not clear how republicanism can escape this charge, either. This is one of Nelson’s best chapters. Even if one disagrees with him, such that the monarch better represents the people, one leaves with a clear sense of what “representation” actually entails.
Parliamentarian Theory: People can only be truly represented by an assembly, as argued originally by John Milton and Marchamont Nedham (66-67). In other words, legitimate representation can only happen if there is a sufficient enough image of those represented (69).
“Any agency” theory: This view was maintained by John Adams. For Adams, any agency, whether king or parliament, can represent a people (68).
Royalists countered the Parliamentarian Theory with the simple observation that any “authorized” agency can function as a legitimate representative. This claim came with a devastating inference, one which patriots felt most keenly: as Parliament had no authority beyond Britain, it could not legitimately represent the colonies (71).
There are even simpler problems with the Parliamentarian Theory. For example, it is not clear why elected representatives, almost none of whom I have voted for, better represent me than a monarch. To be sure, later American theorists were able to alleviate much of this problem with the invention of a bicameral legislature.
Moreover, most Englishmen, even with Parliamentarian representation, had little to no say about the actual laws of England, so it is not immediately clear what representation would change in America. The Parliamentarian Theory needed, which it probably got only too late, “some sort of mechanism by which the consent of some could stand for the consent of all” (71). As we will say, and as it played out in America, Parliament needed a “geometrically proportionate” image of the people,” capturing “the essence of the kingdom” (73).
As it stood, though, Parliament could never claim to be a real image of the people. Whatever the problems of monarchy, representative governments are always subject to factionalism, “whereas the king’s interests always align with the kingdom” (77). He “can only prosper if the kingdom prospers” (78).
Common Sense
Even though Thomas Paine was an ungodly buffoon, and even though his arguments were terrible, he did turn the intellectual tide. In short, if patriots were represented by the king, then they could directly indict the king for failing to promote their interests. Godly patriots had simply complained against the type of king George (or Charles Stuart) was, and 1 Samuel 8 was only an attack on bad kings. Paine and Milton saw it as an attack on kingship itself (though they never explained Deuteronomy 17 or the prophets' glowing references to Davis's kingship).
Accordingly, earlier writings defined “respublica to denote any correctly ordered state” (116). Now it meant representative government without a king. Although Nelson does not mention it, one can see a reverse idolatry here: as long as you do not have a king in your government, your government is good. Even better: if you have the sacred words “republic” or “representation,” your government is biblical. In light of that, Nelson does make the following observation: “The danger of Paine’s position…is that it encourages colonial readers to become anxious about precisely the wrong things–to pursue shadow over substance” (130).
Royalism Revisited
In chapters four and following, Nelson returns to the royalist argument. As it became clear that George would not budge, although he was technically following custom and tradition, royalist patriots revised their argument: they strengthened the executives prerogatives beyond what George had while removing the formal trappings of kingship.
For all practical purposes, and Alexander Hamilton’s skillful work made this very clear, Americans now had a monarch more powerful than George, for Hamilton wanted a “robust prerogative within reasonable bounds of a true mixed monarchy” (169). Or, as John Adams so frequently remarked, what they wanted, in spirit if not in form, is a republican monarchy: “England is a republic, a monarchical republic it is true, but a republic still: because the sovereignty, which is the legislative power, is vested in more than one man” (Defence, quoted in Nelson 206).
Evaluation
I agree with Nelson’s theory. There is one remaining doubt: if the original founders, most of them anyway, were sympathetic with the idea of monarchy, then why did America’s narrative of being “anti-king” gain such sway? We cannot simply blame it on modern education, nor can we blame most of it on the Deist Thomas Paine, though he shares some of the blame.
In terms of an intellectual argument, the “Patriot Royalists” were entirely correct. I do not see how one can argue against Nelson’s use of the sources. Strangely enough, even discounting Paine’s bombastic rhetoric, it seems clear that the Royalist narrative was destined to lose, and I think there are reasons for that. Whatever else may be true of King George and the earlier Stuarts, George had no intention of being a Stuart monarch (63). That is why Nelson’s thesis, although true, has a strange feel about it. By not modeling himself after a tyrannical monarch, George was seen as a tyrannical monarch! That is the main problem with Nelson’s argument, if it is actually a problem. The facts bear it out, however strange it may appear.
July 19, 2025
Well-researched, semi-well-written. Overly emphasizes some points without mentioning others. Pretty boring, but not too long
June 8, 2017
This was not the book I expected it to be, but it was an excellent read and adopted the proper approach for its goal of presenting an unexpected analysis of the ideological roots of the American Revolution. As someone who reads quite a bit about the subject of our nation's complicated founding [1], I happened to think that this is the sort of book that would have been congenial to the approach of Bernard Bailyn, and lo and behold, when I came to this book's bibliography I saw him cited for four works, and it was good to be able to recognize the family this book belongs to. There are few readers who will see the argument of this book coming, but for all of its unconventional approach, this book does what anyone does who wants to make an unusual and striking case--show a close attention to relevant texts and cite as much information as possible. This book is a textbook answer of a book that comes out of left field and makes an important point that is often ignored in the analysis of history, namely that the United States and Great Britain were divided by contrary beliefs about monarchy: England chose a ruling family and no monarchy through parliamentary rule and the United States chose a monarchical executive in the president but no trappings of aristocracy or royalty.
In five chapters as well as an introduction and conclusion that total a bit over 200 pages with more than 100 pages of notes and a lengthy 30 page bibliography, this book is written by someone who knows he needs to prove what he says by appealing to worthwhile primary and secondary sources. The author begins his thesis with a look at Patriot royalism and the appeals to prerogative in the period between 1768-1775 as a way of overcoming the impasse with Parliament. After that the author discusses the way that patriots appealed to the royalist theory of representation as opposed to the Parliamentary defense of virtual representation. The third chapter looks at the importance of biblical exegesis of key biblical passages through the mediation of Paine's Common Sense in the turn towards Republican monarchism. The fourth chapter looks at the period of royalism in temporary eclipse between 1776 and 1780 where many Patriots desired political systems to be as close as possible to the way that they were in the face of temporary fervor for parliamentary state governments. Finally, the fifth chapter looks at the republican monarchical nature of the Constitution of 1787 and its view of a powerful executive.
The author draws some considerable insights from the arguments about political legitimacy in the period of the Founding Fathers. For one, those writers who claim that it was a mistake for America to revolt forget that for the United States there was a widespread willingness to accept a strong executive because of the local diversity and mistrust of legislative tyranny, conditions that still exist in the United States. For another, during the time and ever afterward there has been a considerable problem in understanding the political constraints under which people acted and the senses in which people meant key words in our political founding. For example, Alexander Hamilton may have been legitimately called a monarchist at least by some definitions of the term, and those of us who believe that there should be no king other than God can still be considered monarchists of a kind like Milton. This book provides a thought-provoking perspective on the way we deal with authority and representation and the corrosive effects of a lack of trust on political stability within an empire where there are wildly different interests and disinclination on the part of authorities to deal with the real questions that divide peoples. This book asks the right questions, and that is a considerable and worthwhile achievement.
[1] See, for example:
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2017...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2015...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2015...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2014...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2014...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2017...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2017...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2017...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2017...
In five chapters as well as an introduction and conclusion that total a bit over 200 pages with more than 100 pages of notes and a lengthy 30 page bibliography, this book is written by someone who knows he needs to prove what he says by appealing to worthwhile primary and secondary sources. The author begins his thesis with a look at Patriot royalism and the appeals to prerogative in the period between 1768-1775 as a way of overcoming the impasse with Parliament. After that the author discusses the way that patriots appealed to the royalist theory of representation as opposed to the Parliamentary defense of virtual representation. The third chapter looks at the importance of biblical exegesis of key biblical passages through the mediation of Paine's Common Sense in the turn towards Republican monarchism. The fourth chapter looks at the period of royalism in temporary eclipse between 1776 and 1780 where many Patriots desired political systems to be as close as possible to the way that they were in the face of temporary fervor for parliamentary state governments. Finally, the fifth chapter looks at the republican monarchical nature of the Constitution of 1787 and its view of a powerful executive.
The author draws some considerable insights from the arguments about political legitimacy in the period of the Founding Fathers. For one, those writers who claim that it was a mistake for America to revolt forget that for the United States there was a widespread willingness to accept a strong executive because of the local diversity and mistrust of legislative tyranny, conditions that still exist in the United States. For another, during the time and ever afterward there has been a considerable problem in understanding the political constraints under which people acted and the senses in which people meant key words in our political founding. For example, Alexander Hamilton may have been legitimately called a monarchist at least by some definitions of the term, and those of us who believe that there should be no king other than God can still be considered monarchists of a kind like Milton. This book provides a thought-provoking perspective on the way we deal with authority and representation and the corrosive effects of a lack of trust on political stability within an empire where there are wildly different interests and disinclination on the part of authorities to deal with the real questions that divide peoples. This book asks the right questions, and that is a considerable and worthwhile achievement.
[1] See, for example:
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2017...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2015...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2015...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2014...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2014...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2017...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2017...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2017...
https://edgeinducedcohesion.blog/2017...
September 12, 2015
A well-written and copiously researched book on the competing political theories over which the American Revolution was fought. The author makes the convincing argument that an influential subset of American thinkers, among them Alexander Hamilton and John Adams, saw the revolution not as a revolt against monarchy but rather against the British Parliament, who in their view had usurped far too much power reserved for the Crown and laid a claim to sovereignty over the colonies which had never been granted to them. This "royalist" view is contrasted throughout the book with the standard "whig" position adopted by the Administration in Britain and certain other colonial thinkers.
There were points at which I felt a strong dose of brevity would have served the author well. This was not due to writing style, which I found straightforward and readable. Rather, Nelson has a tendency to cite a great number of people who are essentially paraphrasing each other. It would have been better to cite one writer and follow that with "X was joined in this opinion by Y, Z, and W". Citations could go in a footnote.
Overall, a fine work of scholarship and worth the read for anyone interested in the philosophy of government and political theories which underpinned this country's revolution and Constitution.
There were points at which I felt a strong dose of brevity would have served the author well. This was not due to writing style, which I found straightforward and readable. Rather, Nelson has a tendency to cite a great number of people who are essentially paraphrasing each other. It would have been better to cite one writer and follow that with "X was joined in this opinion by Y, Z, and W". Citations could go in a footnote.
Overall, a fine work of scholarship and worth the read for anyone interested in the philosophy of government and political theories which underpinned this country's revolution and Constitution.
May 29, 2015
The Royalist Revolution is an attempt to take the claims made by Rufus King, James Wilson, and other revolutionaries seriously: That the American Revolution was a revolution not against a king, but a legislature.
Eric Nelson argues that the radical position of the revolutionaries was that they wanted to strengthen the powers of King George III, not weaken him. They wanted George III to reclaim the monarch's power of the "negative voice," which had gone unused by British monarchs since Charles I. The negative voice functioned akin to the president's veto power. If Parliament passed a law the King disliked or disagreed with he could kill the act by saying "no."
George III let the revolutionaries down. He declined to take up his dormant power, which left the Americans with little recourse but to declare their independence.
The Royalist Revolution stands contrary to the standard narrative of the American Revolution, which posits that the Americans wanted more participation in government via a representative legislature. Nelson states that the patriots wanted a stronger King because they felt that Parliament had too much power over the colonies.
I can't say I agree with Nelson, but he has written a book that will make you think.
Eric Nelson argues that the radical position of the revolutionaries was that they wanted to strengthen the powers of King George III, not weaken him. They wanted George III to reclaim the monarch's power of the "negative voice," which had gone unused by British monarchs since Charles I. The negative voice functioned akin to the president's veto power. If Parliament passed a law the King disliked or disagreed with he could kill the act by saying "no."
George III let the revolutionaries down. He declined to take up his dormant power, which left the Americans with little recourse but to declare their independence.
The Royalist Revolution stands contrary to the standard narrative of the American Revolution, which posits that the Americans wanted more participation in government via a representative legislature. Nelson states that the patriots wanted a stronger King because they felt that Parliament had too much power over the colonies.
I can't say I agree with Nelson, but he has written a book that will make you think.
September 29, 2014
A brilliantly argued take on a lesser-known aspect of the American Revolution and subsequent drafting of the constitution. "On one side of the Atlantic, there would be kings without monarchy; on the other, monarchy without kings" (p. 232).
January 25, 2025
A fascinating monograph to revisit at a time when these United States find themselves beset by audacious new designs on the executive prerogative. Nelson conducts an exhaustive survey of the “royalist” arguments that laced early debates surrounding the independence and founding of our upstart republic – from the adoption of almost-Jacobite style rhetoric about ‘dominion theory’ (i.e. that the colonies were always the exclusive dominion of the crown, never the British parliament) to conversations on the true nature of representation (can a monarch, in fact, stake a claim to better representing the will of his subjects than the elites of a legislative body because his fortunes more directly rise and fall with theirs) and various theories regarding the virtue of endowing the executive with an absolute or qualified negative (and how this power might be wielded in practice).
There is far too much detail to these currents and floes to chart in a short review; however, one favorite sequence involves Nelson’s steady-handed analysis of how Thomas Paine’s biblical exegesis in Common Sense guided the republican turn away from a whiggish “neo-Roman” interpretation that accepted monarchy but not the royal prerogative towards a “Hebraizing doctrine” in which the monarchical title was seen as anathema, but the prerogatives were not. As he puts it, “The former colonists may have made their peace with kingly power in 1787-1788, but they would never again be reconciled to the pomp of the kingly office.” Another neat interlude involves the manner in which James Madison’s lack of interest in the spirited constitutional debates surrounding the nature and power of the chief magistrate has resulted in the underweighting of this portion of the historical narrative (he was preoccupied with a far more storied concern: the “federal negative” on state laws). Many of the other drafters – older than Madison and therefore more invested in the contours of discourse from the “imperial crisis” period – had strong opinions, indeed. Nelson deftly presents the diversity of opinion ranging from those envisioning an executive that would do no more than execute the will of the legislature to those advocating expansive prerogative to a powerful magistrate who, as John Adams hoped, should rule “as long as he lives.” Our constitution was, of course, famously forged in the compromise.
Nelson’s work does not always make for easy reading. He spends entire chapters dumping mountains of textual documentation on top of his claims (often involving multiple sources that essentially just reword the same points as each other). A popular history writer would likely provide a single citation and move on. However, once you adjust to the pacing, there is something compelling about this approach. Nelson affords his reader the rare opportunity to steep in the intellectual ferment of the day – observe how these thoughts on governance were adopted and augmented as they spread across the nation during the great pamphlet wars. He never quite makes the case that the revolution was, as a whole, “royalist” in nature. Proving that the arguments examined on these pages represent the dominant animating philosophy of the patriots throughout their uprising (or even that they were more than logical feints deployed strategically for the cause) is a bar too high to clear. Still, that’s scarcely the point. Nelson brings perspective to a latent source of tension that has always pulled at (or perhaps propelled) the great American experiment. As these ideologies are inflamed anew in an effort to raze the ossified architecture built atop our national foundations, it’s both enlightening and troubling to look back on the times of their origin – and learn how they were first kindled by hands surely much more able than any that bless us today.
There is far too much detail to these currents and floes to chart in a short review; however, one favorite sequence involves Nelson’s steady-handed analysis of how Thomas Paine’s biblical exegesis in Common Sense guided the republican turn away from a whiggish “neo-Roman” interpretation that accepted monarchy but not the royal prerogative towards a “Hebraizing doctrine” in which the monarchical title was seen as anathema, but the prerogatives were not. As he puts it, “The former colonists may have made their peace with kingly power in 1787-1788, but they would never again be reconciled to the pomp of the kingly office.” Another neat interlude involves the manner in which James Madison’s lack of interest in the spirited constitutional debates surrounding the nature and power of the chief magistrate has resulted in the underweighting of this portion of the historical narrative (he was preoccupied with a far more storied concern: the “federal negative” on state laws). Many of the other drafters – older than Madison and therefore more invested in the contours of discourse from the “imperial crisis” period – had strong opinions, indeed. Nelson deftly presents the diversity of opinion ranging from those envisioning an executive that would do no more than execute the will of the legislature to those advocating expansive prerogative to a powerful magistrate who, as John Adams hoped, should rule “as long as he lives.” Our constitution was, of course, famously forged in the compromise.
Nelson’s work does not always make for easy reading. He spends entire chapters dumping mountains of textual documentation on top of his claims (often involving multiple sources that essentially just reword the same points as each other). A popular history writer would likely provide a single citation and move on. However, once you adjust to the pacing, there is something compelling about this approach. Nelson affords his reader the rare opportunity to steep in the intellectual ferment of the day – observe how these thoughts on governance were adopted and augmented as they spread across the nation during the great pamphlet wars. He never quite makes the case that the revolution was, as a whole, “royalist” in nature. Proving that the arguments examined on these pages represent the dominant animating philosophy of the patriots throughout their uprising (or even that they were more than logical feints deployed strategically for the cause) is a bar too high to clear. Still, that’s scarcely the point. Nelson brings perspective to a latent source of tension that has always pulled at (or perhaps propelled) the great American experiment. As these ideologies are inflamed anew in an effort to raze the ossified architecture built atop our national foundations, it’s both enlightening and troubling to look back on the times of their origin – and learn how they were first kindled by hands surely much more able than any that bless us today.
May 21, 2021
Excellent book which should definitively end the standard narrative that the American Revolution was fought against monarchy and the contention following the 'failed' Articles of Confederation experiment was purely federalist vs. antifederalist.
The American Revolution should be understood as an extension and continuation of England's 17th century politics/English civil wars of the 1640s wherein parliament attempted to reign in and seize the powers of Charles I/the prerogative powers of the crown. The American Royalists (figures such as John Adams, Alexander Hamilton, at times Ben Franklin) interpreted this political period as the beginning of a multi-century long campaign of parliament to overstep their authority which ultimately leads to legislative tyranny (perhaps most glaringly in the Long-Parliament). In colonial America, this manifests in two legislative acts which seek to tax and regulate commerce and ultimately, an American “Royalist Revolution” against the British Parliament.
Following the revolution, the American Royalists attempt to recreate and in many ways expand upon the British Monarchy in the United States. They are ultimately successful albeit not absolutely. As the 18th century wraps up, we are left with two countries:
"On one side of the Atlantic, there would be kings without monarchy; on the other, monarchy without kings."
I came across this book in the references of Gerald Horne’s The Apocalypse of Settler Colonialism: The Roots of Slavery, White Supremacy, and Capitalism in 17th Century North America and the Caribbean. Horne details how the England’s 1688 “Glorious Revolution” centered around the emerging capitalist class waging war against the Crown (and eventually Parliament) to deregulate/decentralize the British slave trade. Quoted at length:
Once the African Slave Trade accelerated after deregulation in 1688, however, Barbados simply could not absorb the massive influx of enchained Africans crossing the Atlantic, whereas the mainland could. Thus an enriching transformation of North America accelerated wildly, with Africa transformed also in an accelerative fashion, albeit in the opposing direction: impoverishment. This set the stage for a lurch toward secession in 1776. In that context, the recent thesis that 1776 represented a revolt against Parliament and not the monarch makes sense.2 Now the merchants and planters of the mainland who had contributed to the 1688 deregulation by dint of weakening the monarchy went after the new power center that was Parliament. Moreover, 1776 was a kind of replay of the English civil wars of the 1640s when pro-royalists in Virginia opposed Cromwell, whose forces then began to lard Parliament. Colonial secession then was a “Royalist Revolution,” as Virginia came to dominate the Republic in the pre-1861 era, representing as it did a lethal brew of feudalism, capitalism— and slavery.”
I recommend reading recommend Horne’s book as additional reading to Nelson’s thesis. Both should be seminal pieces in understanding the nature of the American Revolution and how its foundations structure so much of our contemporary daily lives.
The American Revolution should be understood as an extension and continuation of England's 17th century politics/English civil wars of the 1640s wherein parliament attempted to reign in and seize the powers of Charles I/the prerogative powers of the crown. The American Royalists (figures such as John Adams, Alexander Hamilton, at times Ben Franklin) interpreted this political period as the beginning of a multi-century long campaign of parliament to overstep their authority which ultimately leads to legislative tyranny (perhaps most glaringly in the Long-Parliament). In colonial America, this manifests in two legislative acts which seek to tax and regulate commerce and ultimately, an American “Royalist Revolution” against the British Parliament.
Following the revolution, the American Royalists attempt to recreate and in many ways expand upon the British Monarchy in the United States. They are ultimately successful albeit not absolutely. As the 18th century wraps up, we are left with two countries:
"On one side of the Atlantic, there would be kings without monarchy; on the other, monarchy without kings."
I came across this book in the references of Gerald Horne’s The Apocalypse of Settler Colonialism: The Roots of Slavery, White Supremacy, and Capitalism in 17th Century North America and the Caribbean. Horne details how the England’s 1688 “Glorious Revolution” centered around the emerging capitalist class waging war against the Crown (and eventually Parliament) to deregulate/decentralize the British slave trade. Quoted at length:
Once the African Slave Trade accelerated after deregulation in 1688, however, Barbados simply could not absorb the massive influx of enchained Africans crossing the Atlantic, whereas the mainland could. Thus an enriching transformation of North America accelerated wildly, with Africa transformed also in an accelerative fashion, albeit in the opposing direction: impoverishment. This set the stage for a lurch toward secession in 1776. In that context, the recent thesis that 1776 represented a revolt against Parliament and not the monarch makes sense.2 Now the merchants and planters of the mainland who had contributed to the 1688 deregulation by dint of weakening the monarchy went after the new power center that was Parliament. Moreover, 1776 was a kind of replay of the English civil wars of the 1640s when pro-royalists in Virginia opposed Cromwell, whose forces then began to lard Parliament. Colonial secession then was a “Royalist Revolution,” as Virginia came to dominate the Republic in the pre-1861 era, representing as it did a lethal brew of feudalism, capitalism— and slavery.”
I recommend reading recommend Horne’s book as additional reading to Nelson’s thesis. Both should be seminal pieces in understanding the nature of the American Revolution and how its foundations structure so much of our contemporary daily lives.
December 18, 2020
'On one side of the Atlantic, there would be kings without monarchy, on the other side monarchy without kings'.
I always like a good deconstruction of Whig mythology, and this is an excellent integration of 17th+18thC British political thought (Milton, Locke, Bolingbroke) into the broader Imperial Crisis of 1760-1790.
Essentially the American revolutionaries moved from a position rooted in early-Stuart political thought, that the 13 colonies were the private domain of the King, not subject to Parliamentary legislation, to the position that since George III would not veto Parliamentary bills unfavourable to American interests, they needed first a republic, under the Articles of Confederation, and then their own version of King George [Washington].
Obviously to hegemonise a diverse group of people into such a monolithic account is problematic, but Nelson is appropriate in his caveats and qualifications. The Jefferson of the 1770s was shockingly royalist, but it's clear his time in France in the 1780s changed his position, and he is absent from the latter 1/3 of the book as he was hostile to the royalist denouement of the constitution.
Annoyed I didn't read this before I wrote a dissertation on the topic as it would have impacted my study.
I always like a good deconstruction of Whig mythology, and this is an excellent integration of 17th+18thC British political thought (Milton, Locke, Bolingbroke) into the broader Imperial Crisis of 1760-1790.
Essentially the American revolutionaries moved from a position rooted in early-Stuart political thought, that the 13 colonies were the private domain of the King, not subject to Parliamentary legislation, to the position that since George III would not veto Parliamentary bills unfavourable to American interests, they needed first a republic, under the Articles of Confederation, and then their own version of King George [Washington].
Obviously to hegemonise a diverse group of people into such a monolithic account is problematic, but Nelson is appropriate in his caveats and qualifications. The Jefferson of the 1770s was shockingly royalist, but it's clear his time in France in the 1780s changed his position, and he is absent from the latter 1/3 of the book as he was hostile to the royalist denouement of the constitution.
Annoyed I didn't read this before I wrote a dissertation on the topic as it would have impacted my study.
May 24, 2025
Occasionally tedious, but overall interesting and convincing. Nelson is very much not a materialist, which makes this a book about law and custom more than anything else.
Some highlights:
>Skepticism of the parliamentary system after the English Civil War and before the Revolution from several canonical Americans (particularly John Adams, but also some of the more democratic individuals like Jefferson and Franklin)
>Legal and jurisdictional arguments from the future revolutionaries that Parliament had strictly limited powers w/r/t colonial governments that had been established under pre-Civil War royal charters
>Thomas Paine's bizzare Old Testament arguments against monarchy per se (obviously in contradiction to over a millenium of actual Christian practice), which Nelson thinks remained influential even after the constitutional convention
>Hamilton's inconsistent arguments that simultaneously elevated and downplayed the powers of the Crown to attempt to justify the powers of the presidency, depending on whom he was trying to convince
>Various debates about veto power ("prerogative"), for the king, state governors, and the president
Some highlights:
>Skepticism of the parliamentary system after the English Civil War and before the Revolution from several canonical Americans (particularly John Adams, but also some of the more democratic individuals like Jefferson and Franklin)
>Legal and jurisdictional arguments from the future revolutionaries that Parliament had strictly limited powers w/r/t colonial governments that had been established under pre-Civil War royal charters
>Thomas Paine's bizzare Old Testament arguments against monarchy per se (obviously in contradiction to over a millenium of actual Christian practice), which Nelson thinks remained influential even after the constitutional convention
>Hamilton's inconsistent arguments that simultaneously elevated and downplayed the powers of the Crown to attempt to justify the powers of the presidency, depending on whom he was trying to convince
>Various debates about veto power ("prerogative"), for the king, state governors, and the president
February 18, 2025
Fantastic! Definitely makes you reconsider how you understand the route to the War for Independence. In sum, the problem was originally with Parliament not with King George. Americans were more than fine being monarchical, we appealed to that to help us fight against corrupted parliamentary democracy - but the King let us down. I was a bit confused on his characterization of "liberal and conservative," but overall this was a necessary read.
September 6, 2024
Very interesting information, but I felt there were just too many quotations and too great of length. Would have been better to be a sort of Norton Anthology type book with maybe a page or so before the documents. There were just that many quotes.
February 21, 2025
A valuable contribution to the modern understanding of the founding era. Conservative's looking to distinguish the principles of the American Revolution from its French counterpart will find this work useful.
October 12, 2021
Another book with interesting ideas rendered unreadable because the author is so far up his own backside with how intelligent he is. Authors, please, write legible prose.
February 15, 2015
In 1775-6ish the colonies revolted against King George III. I mean, that's what's Schoolhouse Rock says, so it has to be true...right? (Cue singing "No More Kings.")
Well, no. In reality, we (this is the collective colonial we) were actually pissed off at Parliament. Stamp Act, Quartering Act--what weren't they taxing or forcing down our throats?
But Parliament was passing those laws. So the collective colonial we were busy trying to convince George III to take back some of his royal privileges (the ones lost during the civil war and Glorious Revolution)--including that of the "negative voice" (or veto). Because all the colonial charters had been made with monarchs, our argument mainly went like this: Parliament and their stupid Intolerable Acts could kiss our ass, because Good King George would save us from them. Everyone knew how rotten and corrupt Parliament was, anyway.
Seriously. We wanted and actually expected that little Hanoverian upstart (who couldn't even manage his kids) to take back powers that no English monarch had used in 100 years, just so we wouldn't have to answer to Parliament.
And all of the future founding fathers were doing it! (Even Jefferson. Kind of. Jefferson never did anything the way he was supposed to.)
Except George III wasn't rocking THAT boat, so he declared the colonies to be in open rebellion, and he became public enemy number one. We rebelled, we got some help from France and Spain and wore them out, and 200 years later we have the catchy "No More Kings" on the same CD as the Schoolhouse Rock preamble to the Constitution. Win-win-win. (I have used the preamble to drown out the shrieking of a tantruming child AND as a lullaby. Thank you, Schoolhouse Rock.)
This is all very fascinating, but this book is not for everybody. In fact, you could, if you were inclined, turn it into something of a drinking game: unnecessary use of Latin phrase when simpler English phrase would do (drink), "royal prerogative" (drink), "negative voice" instead of veto (two drinks), someone picks apart the misuse of scripture and/or Locke in "Common Sense" (3 drinks), chapter with more than 200 footnotes (4 drinks), and so forth.
And it's dense. And it probably is a bit more detailed than it needed to be. (I have been grossly oversimplifying, because I'm not getting into the debates about the Constitution, the two different Royalist viewpoints, and so forth.)
BUT it's actually not very long, the notes are Jenny Uglow wonderful (over 100 pages of them) and if you, like me, always wondered how the hell we went from the Declaration of Independence to the Federalist Papers to people wondering if Washington should be a king, well, this explains a lot.
Highly recommended for early republic geeks, Constitution geeks, and people who like Latin with their history. (It really is unnecessarily obfuscatory.)
4.5 stars.
Well, no. In reality, we (this is the collective colonial we) were actually pissed off at Parliament. Stamp Act, Quartering Act--what weren't they taxing or forcing down our throats?
But Parliament was passing those laws. So the collective colonial we were busy trying to convince George III to take back some of his royal privileges (the ones lost during the civil war and Glorious Revolution)--including that of the "negative voice" (or veto). Because all the colonial charters had been made with monarchs, our argument mainly went like this: Parliament and their stupid Intolerable Acts could kiss our ass, because Good King George would save us from them. Everyone knew how rotten and corrupt Parliament was, anyway.
Seriously. We wanted and actually expected that little Hanoverian upstart (who couldn't even manage his kids) to take back powers that no English monarch had used in 100 years, just so we wouldn't have to answer to Parliament.
And all of the future founding fathers were doing it! (Even Jefferson. Kind of. Jefferson never did anything the way he was supposed to.)
Except George III wasn't rocking THAT boat, so he declared the colonies to be in open rebellion, and he became public enemy number one. We rebelled, we got some help from France and Spain and wore them out, and 200 years later we have the catchy "No More Kings" on the same CD as the Schoolhouse Rock preamble to the Constitution. Win-win-win. (I have used the preamble to drown out the shrieking of a tantruming child AND as a lullaby. Thank you, Schoolhouse Rock.)
This is all very fascinating, but this book is not for everybody. In fact, you could, if you were inclined, turn it into something of a drinking game: unnecessary use of Latin phrase when simpler English phrase would do (drink), "royal prerogative" (drink), "negative voice" instead of veto (two drinks), someone picks apart the misuse of scripture and/or Locke in "Common Sense" (3 drinks), chapter with more than 200 footnotes (4 drinks), and so forth.
And it's dense. And it probably is a bit more detailed than it needed to be. (I have been grossly oversimplifying, because I'm not getting into the debates about the Constitution, the two different Royalist viewpoints, and so forth.)
BUT it's actually not very long, the notes are Jenny Uglow wonderful (over 100 pages of them) and if you, like me, always wondered how the hell we went from the Declaration of Independence to the Federalist Papers to people wondering if Washington should be a king, well, this explains a lot.
Highly recommended for early republic geeks, Constitution geeks, and people who like Latin with their history. (It really is unnecessarily obfuscatory.)
4.5 stars.
December 2, 2016
A fine, brief account of the ideological struggle among the American Founding Fathers during the run-up to the formation of the republic, this book should open new horizons for most readers. It turns out most of the American patriots were actually monarchists until it became clear that King George III of England would not try to exercise the kind of power the English monarchs had enjoyed before the Cromwellian republic of the mid-17th century. The Americans were not keen on independence at all, in fact, but the debate over monarchy or republic was swayed toward the latter perhaps more than anyone else by (ironically) an Englishman: the pamphleteer Thomas Paine. To me, at least, Paine came off as a liar and a villain for the way he constructed his 'Common Sense' argument, diverting the United States toward a path of unnecessary and disingenuous demonization of the Crown.
My only criticism of the book is that it feels rather dry in style. There is little or no embellishment or fleshing out of the ideological argument, and this is not a book that would make a good movie. About a third of the pages is taken up by endnotes, leaving some 230 pages of actual account. But it's a fine work and a great addition to anyone's shelf.
My only criticism of the book is that it feels rather dry in style. There is little or no embellishment or fleshing out of the ideological argument, and this is not a book that would make a good movie. About a third of the pages is taken up by endnotes, leaving some 230 pages of actual account. But it's a fine work and a great addition to anyone's shelf.
September 4, 2015
Praiseworthy for demonstrating the royalist sentiment that underlay the thinking of many of the revolutionary leaders. The author does not claim that a single outlook motivated the revolutionaries, but he recovers the monarchism and conservatism of some of the most prominent figures. The chapters that survey the evolution of republican theory and the role of Paine in re-defining republicanism, tracing it back to rabbinic sources, were masterful
August 31, 2015
This book was a welcome addition to the few others addressing this critical, but oft overlooked, aspect of our nation's founding. Standing along side works like "Monarchism in America" by William B. B. Moody, "The Royalist Revolution" has made great strides in the illumination of a strain of thinking among the Founding Fathers that has been all too often left in the dark.
April 27, 2017
Have to really pay attention to the author's argument. If you don't,you'll be confused about what you just read after each chapter. But overall, he had very interesting arguments that I have never thought about before.
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