Dear Reader: This is a crude draft as of August 15, 2018. The three asterisks or the bold

*** The chapter is even more than usually

raw and confused
The elite continued to sneer at the bourgeoisie. It is by now widely realized that the sixteenth-century in Europe, with its increasingly literate and even rhetorically cultivated elite, came to view the keeping and finding out of secrets as a suitable occupation for a nobility recently disemployed by the invention of peasant armies with guns. Compare the making over of the samurai in Japan a century later into a Confucian bureaucracy in support of the Tokugawa state—though the samurai remained a bureaucracy with the right to use their swords on commoners at will, the commoners themselves having in the meantime been disarmed. In Japan and especially in Europe not swords but talk became the chief weapon of class. The English gentleman by 1600 is eloquent, not a mere fighter. Epithet Lorna Hutson speaks of the "displacement of masculine agency from [military] prowess to [diplomatic and political] persuasion" in the 1560s and 1580s in England and France.²⁷² Lord Essex’s last communication with Elizabeth before she had him executed for treason was a poem. No English lord during the Hundred Years War would have written poems to his ex-mistress and queen. Most of them left writing to clerks.

Jardine notes the suspicion generated if the intelligence is in the wrong hands: "The figure in the [Elizabethan] drama of the diabolical merchant-usurer-intelligencer is. . . a consolidated cultural manifestation of such an unease concerning mercantilism and deferred profit."²⁷³

Alan Stewart summarizes it as "there were in early modern England dramatic uncertainties about the power of information and those who possessed it. "²⁷⁴ Literally "dramatic": they were the impulses behind Elizabethan plays. The secrets of merchants in particular were detested. "The taint of usury constrained mercantile activities" (Jardine 1996, 107).

Lynne Magnussson 1999, p. 124?

Jean-Christophe Agnew has argued in the marxisant way usual in departments of literature that the Elizabethans were right to be suspicious of markets. From the late sixteenth to the middle of the eighteenth century “a volatile and placeless market” caused what he calls a “crisis of representation.” Agnew emphasizes how money—which he appears to think is a novelty in the England of 1600—eroded face-to-face transactions “into two mutually indifferent acts: exchange of commodities for money, exchange of money for commodities; purchase and sale. ” “Commodity exchange was gravitating during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries toward a set of operative rules that fostered a formal and instrumental indifference among buyers and sellers. ” A “logic of mutual indifference” kills reciprocity—shades of Karl Polanyi.

This is quite mistaken. It depends on a Polanyian account of the English economy before 1800 and a "competitive" reading of innovation. On the contrary the historian of the Bristol Merchant Venturers, David Sacks argues that “the new forms of commercial organization that emerged in Bristol during the sixteenth century depended … upon the existence … of close personal ties and the mutual trust they engendered among overseas merchants.'"²⁷⁵ Among gentlemen the "pleasuring style" of letters used a rhetoric of asked favors, granted instantly out of noble friendship. But merchants, too, used it most vigorously: there may have been a "logic" of mutual indifference, but like Hobbes' "logic" of the war of all against all it was a mere logic, not an actual practice of properly socialized merchants with complicated and risky deals in mind. As Sacks, puts it, “nothing could be further from the truth . . . [that] the mercantile profession . . . [was] composed of isolated individuals, each single-handedly confronting the pitfalls of the marketplace." [quoted in Magnusson 1999, p. 130] “Rather than plying their trades alone," Sacks continues, "Bristol's merchants habitually aided one another by dealing in partnership, by serving as factors and agents, by acting as intermediaries in the delivery and receipt of coin or goods, and by jointly transporting merchandise” (61). “Shakespeare,” writes Magnusson summarizes still another student of these matters, Michael Ferber, “brings together in Antonio's portrayal a number of ideological discourses incompatible with Elizabethan realities in order to invent and celebrate an idealized version of mercantile enterprise separated from finance capital and consonant with Christian and aristocratic values."²⁷⁶

Magnussson, however, disagrees that the fulsome and “aristocratic” rhetoric of friendship was foreign to merchants. To think otherwise is, as in Agnew, to let our desire to see merchants as "rational" get in the way of seeing them as humans. The merchant, especially abroad, was wise to use humility. John Browne's The Marchants Avizo (1590) advises the young merchant “in any case show your self lowly, courteous, and serviceable unto every person: for though you and many of us else may think, that too much lowliness bringeth contempt and disgrace unto us: yet … gentleness and humility … will both appease the anger and ill will of our enemies, and increase the good will of our friends.”²⁷⁷ This is not the advice that a young nobleman would get. Where is that amazing letter by a nobleman attacking a merchant?

Lisa Jardine notes the parallels between market deals and medieval fealty. In Marlowe's The Jew of Malta the Jew "Barabas's ability to generate wealth with apparent effortlessness, leading to a kind of intimacy based on dependency upon access to that wealth." Think of fair-weather friends clustering around your local millionaire. "Although ultimately this inevitably gives way to dislike and bad faith, it briefly simulates the kind of 'friendship' which was the basis for peer bonding and service of a more customary kind." That is, it looks liked feudal clientage, made sacred by oaths given and received. We can't help but feel that a business deal is a bond of trust. Humans are that way. We may know better in our more cynical moods, but "at the point of dissolution of such a bond, both parties experience the breakdown as betrayal," as though a purchase-and-sale agreement for a condominium were a blood bond of fealty.”²⁷⁸

* * * *
*** John Milton and commerce here?
* * * *

Susan Wells argues that a tension emerges in Jacobean “city comedies” between commerce—she views it in Marxist terms as being about “accumulation”—and celebration, which she views in Bakhtinian terms as solidarity in carnivalesque ceremonies (Wells 1981). Put a little pep into the Lord Mayor’s show. The tension, though, is that between prudence and faith, individual money-making and bourgeois solidarity, and characterizes every bourgeoisie in history. It is nothing new, or old, no signal of a transition from traditional to bourgeois preoccupations. The occupation of every bourgeois is to be prudent and faithful, together.

Now as I said the contempt for trade is all impossible in practice. The city of London, by 1600 the **nth largest in Europe, on its way to being the largest, and in 1700 the fourth largest in the world after Istanbul, Beijing, and Edo, could not have lasted a week without the steady supply of vegetables from Kent and grain from Oxfordshire and coals from Northumberland, complements of the despised bourgeoisie. England in 1700, like the Netherlands, was urban and prosperous. It was not a place of desperate poverty like contemporary Mughal India. Use Allen. But what is false is that prosperity lead sot more prosperity. It had not before, in Athens or in Florence.

The story I am telling is easily mistaken for another old one, “the rise of the middle class.” That story says that the bourgeoisie always-already contains within itself the modern world, and so by simply multiplying the number of such up-to-date folk we get the modern world. The story imparts a mechanical necessity to history, a sort of tipping point. Get bourgeois enough and you enter the modern world. Marxism talks like this, but so did an entire long generation of historians from the eve of World I until well after World War II.

Of course there’s something to it. Obviously a country like Russia, with a tiny middle class even in 1890, would not be able to modernize. . . except that it did. Obviously a country like Holland, replete with bourgeois from the sixteenth century on, would lead the Industrial Revolution. . . except that it didn’t. Obviously a class like medieval lords wouldn’t show anything like a modern interest in profit. . . except that it did.

Anyone who thinks that the idea of the rise of the bourgeoisie has more than something to it needs to examine a classic article by the historian Jack Hexter, “The Myth of the Middle Class in Tudor England,” first presented in 1948, appearing in an early form in the journal Explorations in Economic History in 1950, and revised and extended in 1961. The myth he refers to particular to the Tudors is that the monarchs of England 1485-1603 favored the middle class. He quotes with approval Lawrence Stone who wrote in 1947, contrary to the “bourgeois Tudors” myth, that “all Tudor governments were the most resolute theoretical opponents of . . . those new bourgeois classes from which they are supposed to have derived most support.”²⁷⁹ Some bourgeois were benefited; most were taxed, monopolized, disdained. The “privileges of the London clique” favored by Elizabeth, Hexter writes, “hung like an anchor on other sectors of the middle class” (p. 104). In the so-called Golden Speech to the House of Commons two years before her death Elizabeth apologized: “That my grants should be grievous unto my people, and oppressions to be privileged under color of our patents, our kingly dignity shall not suffer it. Yea, when I heard it I could give no rest unto my thoughts until I had reformed it.”²⁸⁰

But Hexter hits, too, a larger target, the use of a “rising middle class” to explain everything from earliest times to the present, homines novi in Rome and the character of Iraqis after Saddam Hussein. “A large group of historians ascribes every major historical change in the Tudor period—and a long time before and after—to the desires, aspirations, ideals, and intentions of the rising middle class” (p. 72). “One of the odder performances in contemporary historiography,” writes Hexter, “takes place when the social historians of each European century from the twelfth to the eighteenth . . . seize the curtain cord and unveil the great secret. ‘Behold,’ they say, in my century the middle-class nobodies rising into the aristocracy’”(p. 80-81).

The character of the English countryside, for example, was supposed to have been changed by the coming of merchants buying into country estates. But Hexter explodes the claim that Tudor times saw a novel amount of such intrusion of bourgeois values into the relation of lord and peasant. For one thing, it has always been thus, from Horace buying up his Sabine valley to Robert Redford buying up Montana. “Merchant transplantation to the land was a very ancient habit”(p. 94). Further, “many country folk needed no nudging from transplanted merchants to persuade them ‘to drive the most for their profit’.” And the social advantage in Tudor times, and for a long time after, was on the other side. The merchants facing a “flexible, vigorous, self-confident landed aristocracy” adopted country habits, not the other way around. “The parvenu. . . was the captive, not the conquer, of the countryside”(p. 95). Rome conquered Greece, but Greece conquered Rome.

Hexter is hard on R. H. Tawney, whose “conception of the middle class has all the rigor of a rubber band”(Hexter 1961, p. 74). The middle class in Tawney’s writings sometimes includes prosperous yeoman, and sometimes does not. It sometimes includes the gentry, and sometimes not. It would seem that Tawney ran into trouble, as many historians have when entranced by such statistical terms as “the middle class” or “the middling sort,” into thinking of the bourgeoisie statistically rather than rhetorically.

Rising in numbers or not, bourgeois values "rose." The rhetoric changed, and especially in the late seventeenth century in England. Epithet Donna Andrew writes, “The early-eighteenth-century critics of dueling wished to [as Mandeville sneeringly put it] 'abolish the custom of dueling without parting with notions of honor'. . . . [The reformers] still lived in a society dominated by aristocratic values like quality and magnanimity, values which they themselves believed and accepted. While rejecting the duel and the code of honor, they as yet had nothing to put in its place.”²⁸¹ See Mandeville II, Second Dialogue

Jacques Necker, the French finance minister on the eve of Revolution, wrote in DDDD, “An authority has arisen that did not exist two hundred years ago, and which must necessarily be taken into account, the authority of public opinion.”²⁸²

&Chapter 14:

But in the Late Seventeenth Century

the English Changed

What changed 1600-1848, and dramatically, was the high- and low-cultural attitude towards thrift, capitalism, innovation, and the bourgeoisie. Weber is here correct, though not in thinking that the Puritans had much to do with it. Thriftiness and other specifically economic virtues, such as prudent calculation of costs and benefits or an admiring attitude towards industrial novelties or an acceptance of ethically acquired profits, came first in Holland and then in England, and even a bit earlier in England's remote American colonies and in England's impoverished neighbor, Scotland, to be fully respectable, honorable, admired, permitted, encouraged—not obstructed and disdained. It was not the induced thriftiness that mattered, but the admiration for a bourgeois life of creating economic value. And on that point Weber was mistaken: it was the rhetoric, not the behavior of accumulate, accumulate, that enriched the modern world. As the sociologists Victor Nee and Richard Swedberg wisely put it, “The enduring legacy of Weber’s scholarship is perhaps not so much the Protestant-ethic thesis, but the view that the mechanisms motivating and facilitating today’s [and the seventeenth-century’s] capitalism are rooted not in the materialist domain of incremental capital accumulation, but in the realm of ideas and institutional structures.”²⁸³ The change of ideas had stupendous economic consequences. A change in the superstructure determined a change in the base.

Contrary to Weber, Reinhold Niebuhr wrote in 1952, "Prosperity was not, according to the Puritan creed, a primary proof or fruit of virtue. 'When men do not see and own God,' declared Urian Oakes (1631), 'but attribute success to the sufficiency of instruments it is time for God to maintain his own right and to show that He gives and denies success according to His own good pleasure'."²⁸⁴ But Niebuhr sees "the descent from Puritanism to Yankee in America . . . [as] a fairly rapid one. Prosperity which had been sought in the service of God was now sought for its own sake. The Yankees were very appreciative of the promise in Deuteronomy: 'And thou shalt do that which is right and good in the sight of the Lord: that it may be well with thee, and that thou mayest go in and possess the good land which the lord swear unto thy fathers'" (6: 18). (Chap 3, sec. 1) "According to the Jeffersonians," Niebuhr continues, "prosperity and well-being should be sought as the basis of virtue. They believed that if each citizen found contentment in a justly and richly rewarded toil he would not be disposed to take advantage of his neighbor. The Puritans regarded virtue as the basis of prosperity, rather than prosperity as the basis of virtue. But in any case the fusion of these two forces created a preoccupation with the material circumstances of life which expressed a more consistent bourgeois ethos than that of even the most advanced nations of Europe." Niebuhr 1952, Chap. 3, Sec. 1)

Away from northwestern Europe and its offshoots by c. 1848 the economic virtues were still not respectable, at any rate in the opinion of the dominant classes. Right up to the Meiji Restoration of 1867, after which the rhetoric in Japan changed with lightning speed, leading opinion scorned the merchant. In Confucian cultures more widely the merchant was ranked often as the lowest of the classes: in Japan, the daimyo, the samurai, the peasant, the craftsman, the merchant, the night-soil man, Koreans. A merchant in Japan and China and Korea was not a "gentleman," to use the European word, and had no honor.

But likewise, we have seen, c. 1600 in England.

Georg Simmel claimed mistakenly in The Philosophy of Money (1900, 1907) to detect a "psychological feature of our times which stands in such a decisive contrast to the more impulsive, emotionally determined character of earlier epochs . . . . Gauging values in terms of money has taught us to determine and specify values down to the last farthing."²⁸⁵ In a word, thriftiness reigns now, as against the warm non-calculativeness of earlier folk. This is false as actual behavior, and is a piece with Weber's claim around the same time that a rise of rationality characterizes the modern world.

The Great War was soon to make such optimistic Euro-centrism look strange indeed. Some "rationality." Ernest Renan, professor of Hebrew at the Collège de France from 1862, most famous for his claim that Jesus was a good chap if a trifle primitive and oriental, had declared that "we must make a marked distinction between societies like our own, where everything takes place in the full light of reflection, and simple and credulous communities," such as those that Jesus preached in.²⁸⁶ After the events of the twentieth century in Europe, which exhibited irrationality, impulse, credulousness, and shockingly little of the full light of reflection, one stands amazed that anyone can still believe in the unusual rationality or prudence or thriftiness of behavior in the modern European world.

In fact people always and everywhere have been more or less rational and more or less impulsive, both. They exhibit the seven virtues, and the numerous corresponding vices, all. In medieval Europe one can see in Walter and the Seneschaucy, among by now thousands of other sources, the pervasiveness of a money economy. In 1900 Simmel had little way of knowing how mistaken his notions of the "rise of the money economy" were to prove in actual as against philosophical history. At that time only a few lone geniuses like Frederic William Maitland had it right. It has subsequently been discovered that in olden times everything was for sale for money, as for instance husbands and eternal salvation. Poor and rich people in 1300 thought of money values down to the last farthing.

Where Simmel is correct, however, is again that attitudes and commonplace rhetoric about prudence and temperance did change, 1600-1800. As the Russian historian Richard Pipes put it, “Sometime during the period in European history vaguely labeled ‘early modern,’ there occurred a major break in the attitude toward property.”²⁸⁷ The Low Countries were in their greatest time the point of contrast to older rhetoric of disdain for commerce. Well into the eighteenth century Holland served as a model for the English and Scots of how to be thrifty and bourgeois, and certainly how to talk it.

Joel Mokyr has written that the Enlightenment was obsessed with useful information. That is certainly true. In France and England and their provinces …… Quote Joel to this effect.

But wait. The economist Peter Boettke observes in this connection that prices registered what people thought useful. In a commercial society they do, at any rate for the goods that enter commerce. Demand has therefore a role in the Industrial Revolution by a back door, the one marked “Values Registered Here.” Maxine Berg among others has pointed out the great extension of small luxuries coming from foreign trade, emblematically coffee. Jan de Vries likewise argues that what he wittily calls the “industrious “ revolution arose out of the lust in Holland and England and New England for new goods, such as porcelain and Windsor chairs. Both of these distinguished students of the demand side in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, however, would readily admit that the demand for coffee or chairs does not itself an Industrial Revolution make. The economist points out, as I have earlier at length, that shuffling from one use of the society’s inputs of labor and capital and land to another use does not change the efficiency of the inputs, at least not much.

Being obsessed with useful information is not new in the eighteenth century. What changed was what exactly was deemed useful. In this deeper sense the pattern of demand, the values in the heads of consumers—that is to say, as economists strangely put it, changes in “taste”—was the cause of the Industrial Revolution. When war horses and cathedrals were valued, that is what was useful, and knowledge about them was useful knowledge, and much sought. The knowledge of how to breed big Belgian horses [check type] able to carry an armored knight was useful, and valued in a market. In 1400 a stonemason with skill in carving gargoyles had useful and therefore profitable knowledge. When immortal salvation was valued, people bought it, and fought for it, and smote those with alternative theories of it. A church in possession of a piece of the true cross was a useful place of pilgrimage, and people sought it obsessively. English people continued in the eighteenth century to value eternal salvation. What changed is that preachers like NNNN Bentley and later Joseph Priestley commenced telling them from the pulpit that God intended us to flourish on earth, and to enjoy its fruits. The ascetic strain of Il Penseroso, if it ever had amounted to much in the economy, was bleached out with chlorine.

The rising class in the English sixteenth and seventeenth century was not only the bourgeoisie, but the gentry, viewed as one of two classes of land-rich "gentlemen"—the leading characters in novels by Fielding and Austen standing just below England's exceptionally tiny aristocracy. Yet a mere hundred years after Shakespeare the English, surprisingly, were very busy transforming themselves away from admirers of the gentry and aristocracy and into admirers of the bourgeoisie. In the 1690s, with a Dutch king, the William of William and Mary, the British proceeded in a rush to adopt Dutch institutions such as excise taxes, a central bank, a national debt, a stock market, a free press. And they undertook to cease being inconstant, rash, vainglorious, light, and deceiving (they retained "suspicious and despising of foreigners”), make sure this is anticipated, or cease talking about it. Evidently something changed during the late seventeenth century in the evaluation of prudent temperance as against courageous hope, and so the evaluation of thrift. Even the gentry and aristocracy, who for centuries had had in fact a sharper eye for profit than their lordly rhetoric would officially allow. They became more and more frankly businesslike about their land holdings, culminating in the figure of Farmer George III.

During the decades up to 1700 the effective rulers of Britain became in theory and practice more and more mercantilist, and then by the end of the eighteenth century even a little bit free trading—anyway more and more after the late seventeenth century concerned with national profit and loss, instead of ensuring this man’s monopoly profit and that woman’s church attendance. Sir William Temple noted in 1672 that before 1648 in the great nations of Europe “their trade was war.” But “since the Peace of Munster, which restored the quiet of Christendom in 1648, not only Sweden and Denmark but France and England have more particularly than ever before busied the thoughts and counsels of their several governments. . . about the matters of trade.”²⁸⁸ The English were first in this Dutchlike subordination of politics to trade. As Montesquieu put it in 1748, "other nations have made the interests of commerce yield to those of politics; the English, on the contrary, have ever made their political interests give way to those of commerce."²⁸⁹ Well. . . not "ever," but by 1748 often. The Chinese nowadays say that before 1978 the communist cadres talked only of class war, but after 1978 they talked only of economic success. Northwestern Europe changed around 1700 in the same way, from talking only about God and hierarchy to talking only about the economy and national strength. In both cases the change was made possible by political competition, the xian (townships) of China competing for the latest computer factory or the cities of the Netherlands or England competing for the latest textile factory. What they said in aid of mercantilist strength was often wrong, and contained holdovers from an earlier rhetoric—the same would hold for Chinese theorists of “socialist market economy.” But anyway the European topic was now national income, not godly or aristocratic glory.

Such an ordering of ideas was second nature to the Dutch by 1600. It had to be learned in the century to follow by the British. The British became known at last as unusually calculating, instead of as before unusually careless in calculating. The actual change in individual behavior was not great. The rest of the world continued to be shocked by the aristocratic/peasant brutality of British soldiers into the nineteenth century and after. Consider the bold Black and Tans suppressing Irish rebellion in 1920, or the massacre at Amritsar in British India in 1919. A little if rich island did not paint a quarter of the world red, nor did it win, with a little help, two world wars, by sweet bourgeois persuasion. But the change in rhetoric towards bourgeois cooperation was great and permanent and finally softening.

A long-evolving orthodoxy in English history claims that on the contrary England long espoused a "gentlemanly capitalism" hostile to bourgeois values.²⁹⁰ Right through late Victorian times and beyond, it is said, innovation was undermined by polo-loving and estate-yearning. It seems a dubious claim. True, always in Britain the aristocracy and gentry have had a prestige that is amusing or puzzling or dazzling to the Scots or the Americans or the Dutch or other more plebeian advocates of the bourgeois virtues. As Hume noted in 1741 “while these notions prevail, all the considerable traders will be tempted to throw up their commerce, in order to purchase . . . privileges and honor.”²⁹¹ But from 1741 to the present the quantitative judgment in Hume’s “all” has proven to be mistaken. Not anything like “all” the middling sort have lusted after noble privilege—this in contrast to France of the ancien régime, for example—and in any case people translated to the honor of “Sir Roderick” or “Baron Desai” have been replaced from below by hordes of new bourgeois.

And not everyone has been impressed by British gentility. In 1726 a young Voltaire visited an elderly William Congreve out on his country estate, long after Congreve had been enriched by his plays, which Voltaire, a playwright himself, greatly admired. The old man said modestly to Voltaire that he preferred to be thought not as a literary artist but merely a retiring gentleman. Voltaire replied sharply: had Congreve had the misfortune to be merely an idle, rent-earning gentleman, with no occupation and no accomplishments on the stage, Voltaire would not have troubled to seek him out.²⁹²

It has always seemed a trifle strange to lament the economic "failure" of the first industrial nation, which has remained from 1700 to the present one of the richest countries on earth.²⁹³ In 2005, allowing for the actual purchasing power of local currencies, the U.K. had a gross domestic product per capita of $31,580, ranking twentieth in the world (the rankings include the little oil countries with very high incomes but very few citizens). It was in this respect a little ahead of France, Germany, Italy; a little behind Denmark, Switzerland, and especially the United States. All such countries were roughly four times richer than the world average in 2005 of $8971.²⁹⁴ The U. K. is 2.6 times richer than the African success of Botswana, in southern Africa, and 59 times richer than the African catastrophe of Zimbabwe, next door to Botswana. From the time of atmospheric steam engines to the present, England and Scotland together have been world centers for invention: modern steel, radar, penicillin, magnetic resonance imaging, lead-floated plate glass, and the world wide web, to name a few.²⁹⁵ A surprisingly high percentage of world inventions still come out of tiny Britain. And as the great leftwing historian E. P. Thompson pointed out early in the debate about gentlemanly capitalism, the landed aristocrats themselves, and their protective belt of gentry, became at least partly bourgeois in values. The point is a cliché of early modern English history. The nobility and gentry labored at high farming, I repeat, the way their financiers in London labored at making deals and their manufacturing countrymen in Lancashire labored at spinning cotton. The classes socially superior to the bourgeoisie sent their younger sons into trade and opened coal mines on their properties. No lofty anti-economic sentiments for them, at least when their own sons and their own estates were at stake.

* * * *

Why? For one thing, the change in British rhetoric about the economy came out of the irritating success of the thoroughly bourgeois Dutch. The success of the Dutch Republic was startling to Europe. The Navigation Acts and the three Anglo-Dutch Wars by which England attempted to appropriate some Dutch success to itself in the middle of the seventeenth century were the beginning of a larger project of emulating the burghers of Delft and Leiden. “The evidence for this widespread envy of Dutch enterprise,” wrote NNNN Kennedy in 1976, “is overwhelming,” and is no less now.²⁹⁶ In 1663 the English put it in doggerel: “Make wars with Dutchmen, peace with Spain./ Then we shall have money and trade again.” It was not in fact stealing from the Dutch that made England rich—wars were expensive, and the Dutch admiraals Tromp and De Ruyter were not pushovers. It was imitating them that did the trick.

The historian Matthew Kadane explains the shift towards bourgeois virtues ; “the slow cool-down in religious temperature (which helps to permit the mere possibility of the demoralization of wealth) starting after the end of the civil wars and running through 1688-89; the commercialization of London, where there is so much more to be a spectator of, and so on.” with “various interactions with the Dutch.” Just so. Thomas Sprat, in his History of the Royal Society of 1667, early in the English project of becoming Dutch, writes against the very idea. He views it as commendable that “the merchants of England live honorably in foreign parts” [my italics], while “those of Holland meanly, minding their gain alone.” Shameful. “Ours . . . [have] in their behavior very much the gentility of the families from which so many of them are descended. The others when they are abroad show that they are only a race of plain citizens.” Appallingly plain bourgeois, those Dutch, mere “cits” (from “citizens”) in the contemptuous slang of the day. Perhaps, Sprat notes, that is “one of the reasons they can so easily undersell us.”²⁹⁷ It may be. John Dryden in 1672 takes up Sprat’s complaint in almost identical words. In Amboyna, or, The Cruelties of the Dutch to the English Merchants the English merchant Beamont addresses the Dutch: "For frugality in trading, we confess we cannot compare with you; for our merchants live like noblemen: your gentlemen, if you have any, live like boers." ²⁹⁸ Josiah Child, arguing against guild regulation of cloth, on the contrary admired the Dutch on non-aristocratic, prudential grounds: “if we intend to have the trade of the world we must imitate the Dutch.”²⁹⁹ Better boers we.