Professional Documents
Culture Documents
BY G LO R IA LA DS O N - B I LLI N G S
BY CAROLL BRYDOLF
B Y K I M B E R LY C O S I E R
BY CASSIUS ADAIR
BY ÖZLEM SENSOY
BY C RYSTAL T. LAU RA
Spotlight167
Response173
Spotlight245
Response251
BY DEBORAH MEIER
BY PASI SAHLBERG
Spotlight319
Response323
TABLE OF CONTENTS ix
A
s editors, we have worked to be very cautious about the
language choices we have made throughout this text.
We acknowledge language to be fluid, not fixed, and
ever-evolving. We have worked to use terms that most
accurately represent a critical social justice perspective from our own
positionalities. Other authors within the text also write from their
own positionality, so, for example, while we have chosen to not use the
term minority honoring Deborah Davis’s work, we recognize that other
authors may use this term in their writing. Here we offer an explanation
for our language choices:
xi
• We have chosen to use the term Latin@ as an inclusive gender-neutral term for people with
origins from a Latin American heritage. Some conflate this term with Hispanics, however
Hispanic is typically connected to governmental use of the term for statistical purposes. Those
from Brazil, Belize, and other indigenous people who live in Latin America often aren’t included
in the term Hispanic because of its exclusion based on language. Latin@ is intended to focus on
the geographic origins of people and not only language. We acknowledge that there are many
diverse and distinct experiences within the Latin@ community, such as Chican@s or Puerto
Ricans, who have been colonized by the United States and thus it is always encouraged to refer to
Latin@ communities as specifically as possible (Oboler, 1998).
• We use the term queer as an umbrella term for members within the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and
trans*community. As Kimberly Cosier explains in her piece, we acknowledge the term as histori-
cally negative, but that is has been reclaimed by many now to be used positively. We realize even
saying “LGBT” is not exhaustive of the many identities that might fall within this category and
always encourage people use terms as specifically as they can and in terms of how people wish to
be identified. More specifically, we use the term trans* to also complicate a wide array of identi-
ties often put upon transgender people and to be inclusive of all trans identities. We understand
that this term is not embraced by all, but we are explicit here with the reasons we have chosen to
use this term as cisgendered people.
• We use the term dis/ability instead of disability to disrupt understandings of ability. “Disability”
focuses on the specific inability to perform “culturally defined expected tasks” such as learning
or walking and defines individuals primarily on what they are not able to do (Connor, Ferri, &
Annamma, 2016).
As Matias (2016) explains, “the English language is an evolving and powerful tool to express myriad
points of view” (p. xvii) and thus we acknowledge that this use of terms are reflective of this point in time
and will continue to change.
We would live to give a special thanks to Dr. Z Nicolazzo, Dr. Hannah Noel, Dr. Lamar Johnson and Dr.
Elyse Hambacher for their input and conversations related to language.
E
very piece of art I have authored is a love letter to someone
special in my life. Except for one piece, every piece of art
I complete is given willingly and unreservedly to a person
that I care for. While collaborating in both the brainstorm-
ing and execution of this piece, every brushstroke that brought this
illustration to life was a concerted effort. It was born from love, admira-
tion, and fellowship. The inspiration behind this artwork comes from
the colleagues I engage with on a daily basis. People who choose to
advocate for their fellow brethren. Although it is impossible to live fully
in someone’s skin and walk in their footsteps, if we are to become true
advocates for social justice, we have to become comfortable with being
uncomfortable.
At times, choosing to resist, to forgive, to speak up, to challenge, and
most important, to love are not the easiest things to do. These actions
require that we check our implicit bias and come to terms with how we
came to have them in the first place. It is a commitment that requires
owning everything you are, everything you are not, and everything you
have the potential of becoming.
Esteemed colleagues, I leave you with a quote by César Chávez who once
said,
I ask that you reflect on these words and breathe life into your own
dreams of making a difference in this world. Now, what would your first
step be in making these dreams a reality?
◆◆◆◆
xv
Images sometimes can provide just as much of a message as the text in a paper. After reading Esther’s note
on the cover illustration, we believe that there are many discussion questions that can be asked for you, as
a student of teaching, to reflect upon. This can either be done prior to taking your course assigned to this
text, or during … or even after. We encourage you to reflect upon the image on the cover and consider
your thoughts, emotions, reactions to this image throughout your time learning to teach. Below are a few
questions to guide you in this inquiry.
1. After reading the note from the illustrator, what does the “author” of this illustration expect you to
know and value?
2. What do the authors of this text/the illustrator want you to feel or think?
3. Describe the colors, hue, and lines. What do those communicate to you about the content of the
book?
4. Who, of all the authors in this book, do you associate most with this image? Why?
5. Who is this image designed for? Who is this image not for?
6. If you named the individual on the cover, what name would you give?
7. What does the individual see in the field of vision not available to us as the viewers? Why is it not
available to us visually?
8. How can we “read” this image for Tatum’s 7 categories of ‘otherness?’ Which categories are included,
and which are left out? (see page 43)
9. Do you see anything that is the same about yourself and this individual?
10 . If you had to describe this individual in 3 words, what would they be?
11 . After reading this image, how would you define social justice?
T
eacher Leadership for Social Justice offers a critical interpretation
for what we believe is needed for educators to become leaders
for Critical Social Justice (CSJ) in schools. We open up this text
with a short piece by Margaret Wheatley called “Willing to Be
Disturbed.” This short yet brilliantly written text captures so many of the
early questions and positions that we want beginning teachers to consider,
particularly the assumption that knowing yourself is fostered, dialectically
and exponentially, by your willingness to consider multiple points of view
that challenge your own. Only then can we test what we think we know,
and then shift, adapt, and grow our beliefs. The themes of discomfort and
vulnerability permeate our text and we will continuously come back to this
in each section. While you might feel you are on an emotional roller coaster
at times, we ask you to stay committed in your journey to becoming an
educator for CSJ.
Our approach to CSJ begins with teachers examining their own beliefs,
biases, and worldviews. In Section I we introduce you to selections centered on
critical reflection, identity, and critical frameworks we believe will guide you
on your journey. Here we hope you begin to work through a healthy tension
between learning “techniques” in your teacher education and teaching from
your heart. In Section II, we unpack CSJ issues impacting schools. As teacher
leaders, you must have a contextual understanding of issues of oppression if
you aim to work against them. For some, this might be the first time grappling
with these issues, particularly if they don’t seem to relate to you in any way. It
is at this point that you must begin to ask yourself what new knowledge you
will need to gain to become a teacher for CSJ. Given that the teaching force
BRITTANY’S STORY
I believe that as much as we may try to be objective in our positions and perspectives, it is nearly
impossible to separate ourselves from the ideologies, beliefs, and experiences that have shaped who we
are. My personal lens will influence my standpoint and my ability to reflect on certain situations. My
own intersectionality includes the identity of a white, middle-class, cisgender/heterosexual, Christian
spiritual woman, former elementary teacher, and now a teacher educator. Each facet of my identity has
determined where I am today and how this will affect my future research and teaching. Growing up in
ethnically diverse South Florida, I never thought about having a white privilege. However, over time I
came to acknowledge the advantages my whiteness afforded me, but this is definitely something that I
did not accept after one reading or one class—in fact, I remember rejecting this notion in my first social
justice class when we read Peggy McIntosh’s (1989) “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack.”
It was painful to realize my own role in the hegemonic project of white supremacy as I denied who I was
for so long. But it has also fueled my desire to work with preservice teachers who are grappling with their
own understandings of privilege and how we can transition from guilt to action. Other intersections of
my privilege include class, sexuality, and religion. Perhaps the most difficult thing I had to work through
was my own understandings of how sexual orientation was at odds with my “religious beliefs,” and this
took me time to reject what had been taught to me to come to my own understandings that were in line
TOM’S STORY
I am a straight, white, male, middle-aged college professor. I have been married for almost 30 years and
have two adult sons. I have devoted my life’s work for the past 22 years to teacher education in higher
education in one form or another, with about half my time spent with beginning teachers and the other
half spent with veteran teachers doing graduate work. Before that I taught high school school and
coached sports. And before that I trained for the ministry in a seminary program. I have loved being in
education in all its forms for nearly 30 years, and remain hopeful and I hope, helpful, as society makes
its way forward in addressing some of the key issues of our time. I have thought a lot about growing up
in a relatively safe, middle-class, small town in Ohio, and wrote a book about it (Poetter, 2014). During
the process of telling that story, I realized the depths of my privilege, and the legacy of values and
strengths that accrued to me because of my upbringing. Both my parents were college educated, my
father a Protestant minister (he died at age 55 in 1976) and my mother an occupational therapist who
went back to work late in life to finish raising four children on her own. She put three of us through
college, and raised my oldest sister to adulthood; Anne, who passed in 2008, was born with Down’s
syndrome in the 1950s. My resolve is to help teachers and educators of all kinds to engage the work
more deeply, to look past perceived deficits in society’s structures and people, and to enjoy the work
of teaching and learning in such a vibrant, dynamic period in history. And ultimately, I intend to pass
along my life in service to others, paying forward, if you will, the great legacy of support that I have
received my entire lifetime.
Each section will provide five to six selections related to the theme as well as discussion questions at
the end of each piece. We also close each section with a SPOTLIGHT feature that includes a recent
op-ed, activist piece related to the topics at hand. These pieces are meant to be provocative and shed light
from various perspectives on how the many difficult topics we are introducing you to impact people
and communities. Section II is slightly different, as we provide student narratives from our classes as
a way to incorporate student voices into the process and allow you to see how they have grappled with
learning about these topics. We believe learning to be a reciprocal process and have learned much from
our preservice teachers as well.
PREFACE 3
BY Margaret J. Wheatley
A
s we work together to restore hope to the future, we
need to include a new and strange ally—our willingness
to be disturbed. Our willingness to have our beliefs and
ideas challenged by what others think. No one person or
perspective can give us the answers we need to the problems of today.
Paradoxically, we can only find those answers by admitting we don’t
know. We have to be willing to let go of our certainty and expect our-
selves to be confused for a time.
We weren’t trained to admit we don’t know. Most of us were taught
to sound certain and confident, to state our opinion as if it were true. We
haven’t been rewarded for being confused. Or for asking more questions
rather than giving quick answers. We’ve also spent many years listening
to others mainly to determine whether we agree with them or not. We
don’t have time or interest to sit and listen to those who think differently
than we do.
But the world now is quite perplexing. We no longer live in those
sweet, slow days when life felt predictable, when we actually knew what
to do next. We live in a complex world, we often don’t know what’s going
on, and we won’t be able to understand its complexity unless we spend
more time in not knowing.
Willing to be Disturbed 7
O
ver the years while teaching a course on teacher leadership for preservice
teachers—working with students, coaching instructors, and struggling
to maintain central commitments to ideas, processes, and norms in our
courses—we have always come back to the central tenets that drive the
work we do. This work runs counter to the typically technical and position-oriented
notions of teacher leadership that dominate the literature and our discourse about it in
teacher education programs: Those who become teachers have to interrogate themselves,
their assumptions and beliefs, and their commitments, reasons for going into teaching,
and strategies for sticking with it when times get tough, in order to locate and nurture the
crucial spark that feeds the work and joy of learning with students for a lifetime.
This lifetime process of interrogation and questioning makes up the central project of
teacher leadership; that is, knowing yourself, cultivating strengths, working on recognized
weaknesses (then looking deeper at what we take for granted!), being open to self-critique,
growing, constantly learning, collaborating with colleagues, searching for answers,
moving—not standing still, as if a college degree and student teaching constitute the end
of the line for preparing to teach. Preparation for teaching is a lifetime endeavor, a joyful
one, a difficult one—a most rewarding one. But leadership is mostly about movement, not
stasis. Leadership is about what we do, our functions, and who we are as people, not so
much about the positions we hold or our titles.
In this day and age in which the notion of a teacher-proof curriculum, even a teacher-
proof classroom (as if a curriculum or teaching function could be supplied by just anyone
That I was successful in school says more about tracking and classism in education than
about my own individual accomplishments and abilities. I suppose in some way I always
knew these issues personally, but it was autobiographical reflection that helped me turn the
lessons of my life into curricular objectives. (Rousmaniere, 2000, p. 97)
Since teachers are predominantly white (84%), and often come from middle-class backgrounds, their
educational autobiographies may not reflect the experiences or values of students of color and those living
in poverty. So Rousmaniere’s piece challenges us to consider how our memories are situated, particularly
in our own single narratives. This pushes us to consider the vast array of experiences that students have,
which Rousmaniere hints at. But, in the end, throughout your teaching career, you must explore more
critically your personal story of coming to teach.
Parker Palmer shares his classic exploration of the roots of teaching in “The Heart of a Teacher.” He
offers his famous adage, “We teach who we are,” suggesting the critical knowledge of self as the founda-
tion of teaching. In fact, Palmer argues, it’s not so much what we know about subjects and topics and
such, but more about the fact that when we teach we mainly communicate who we are:
Here is a secret hidden in plain sight: good teaching cannot be reduced to a technique: good
teaching comes from the identity and integrity of the teacher. (Palmer, 1997, p. 67)
As we think about identity and integrity in teaching, we continue to realize that students of teaching
typically get a continuous diet of method and technique in their courses and field experiences in teacher
education programs, and even in their master’s programs, including our own. What we suggest is that
students question and critique this focus, especially as they struggle to connect their own positionality to
the positionalities of students and teachers in the settings they inhabit as educators. As professionals, we
have to mortgage this notion that we already know how to teach, and continuously explore new avenues,
new ideas, new approaches to teaching and learning. This is the process that never stops in teaching and
that feeds excellence.
Beverly Tatum introduces the reader to broad themes related to oppression, suggesting a turning point
in the section in terms of the role that self-reflection plays in becoming a teacher. Those occupying the
dominant classes—with racial, economic and gender superiority, as granted by the broader culture—must
attend to the issues related to difference, especially teachers, who may fall prey to a taken-for-granted
status, and thus become even further distanced from students and true self-knowledge: In the absence of
dissonance, the dimension of identity escapes conscious attention (Tatum, 2000, p. 11).
We must be in tune with our identities, not only inasmuch as they influence our ways of seeing the
world and acting, but also as they reflect what others make of us, the power they give us or deny us, and
the social role we play in pushing toward equity for all. Our goal, beyond the comfort that may come
Our ongoing examination of who we are in our full humanity, embracing all of our identi-
ties, creates the possibility of building alliances that may ultimately free us all. (Tatum, 2000,
p. 12)
In addition to the ongoing examination of ourselves, we must critically examine the assumptions we
bring with us to schools. In one example, Robert Cooper, Pedro Nava, and Cheong Huh reconceptual-
ize the idea of “parental involvement” that often emerges from deficit thinking and normative ways of
acknowledging families’ engagement in their child’s education. Yosso (2005) argues that communities of
color have other forms of cultural capital, which she calls community cultural wealth, that don’t necessar-
ily align with Eurocentric schooling practices. Yosso’s framework identified six forms of cultural capital
that students of color bring with them to school that do not align with white middle-class values, yet are
forms of capital beneficial in their communities.
Aspirational capital is “the ability to hold onto hope in the face of structured inequality and
often without the means to make dreams a reality” (p. 77)
Linguistic capital refers to “the intellectual and social skills attained through communica-
tion experiences in more than one language or style” (p. 78)
Familial capital encompasses a broad definition of family and extends this concept to include
other social networks and resources (p. 79)
Social capital includes “networks of people and community resources” (p. 79)
Navigational capital explains how people of color learn to navigate institutions that were
“not created with people of color in mind” (p. 80)
Resistant capital refers to the “knowledges and skills fostered through oppositional behavior
that challenge inequality” (p. 80)
In this article, we see how Latin@ families often view educación differently from white families, and as
teachers, we need to be continuously reminded that our positionalities and values may not align with
our students’. How we respond to these interactions with students, the relationships we foster with them
and their families, and the curricular decisions we make will all impact our ability to dismantle deficit
thinking or to continue forcing assimilation and invisibility.
Lastly, Adrienne Dixson and Vanessa Dodo Seriki explore intersectionality, that complex meeting
point of race, class, and gender, among other aspects of difference, highlighting the deeper points that
I have noticed, in a previous page, the very scant courtesy which the
queen of Charles I. met with at the hands of a Commonwealth
admiral. The courtesy of some of the Stuart knights toward royal
ladies was not, however, of a much more gallant aspect. I will
illustrate this by an anecdote told by M. Macaulay in the fourth
volume of his history. The spirit of the Jacobites in William’s reign
had been excited by the news of the fall of Mons.... “In the parks the
malcontents wore their biggest looks, and talked sedition in their
loudest tones. The most conspicuous among these swaggerers was
Sir John Fenwick, who had in the late reign been high in favor and
military command, and was now an indefatigable agitator and
conspirator. In his exaltation he forgot the courtesy which man owes
to woman. He had more than once made himself conspicuous by his
impertinence to the queen. He now ostentatiously put himself in her
way when she took her airing, and while all around him uncovered
and bowed low, gave her a rude stare, and cocked his hat in her
face. The affront was not only brutal but cowardly. For the law had
provided no punishment for mere impertinence, however gross; and
the king was the only gentleman and soldier in the kingdom who
could not protect his wife from contumely with his sword. All that the
queen could do was to order the park-keepers not to admit Sir John
again within the gates. But long after her death a day came when he
had reason to wish that he had restrained his insolence. He found,
by terrible proof, that of all the Jacobites, the most desperate
assassins not excepted, he was the only one for whom William felt
an intense personal aversion.”
The portrait of William III. as drawn by Burnet, does not wear any
very strong resemblance to a hero. The “Roman nose and bright
sparkling eyes,” are the most striking features, but the “countenance
composed of gravity and authority,” has more of the magistrate than
the man at arms. Nevertheless, and in despite of his being always
asthmatical, with lungs oppressed by the dregs of small-pox, and the
slow and “disgusting dryness” of his speech, there was something
chivalrous in the character of William. In “the day of battle he was all
fire, though without passion; he was then everywhere, and looked to
everything. His genius,” says Burnet in another paragraph, “lay
chiefly in war, in which his courage was more admired than his
conduct. Great errors were often committed by him; but his heroical
courage set things right, as it inflamed those who were about him.” In
connection with this part of his character may be noticed the fact that
he procured a parliamentary sanction for the establishment of a
standing army. His character, in other respects, is not badly
illustrated by a remark which he made, when Prince of Orange, to Sir
W. Temple, touching Charles II. “Was ever anything so hot and so
cold as this court of yours? Will the king, who is so often at sea,
never learn the word that I shall never forget, since my last passage,
when in a great storm the captain was crying out to the man at the
helm, all night, ‘Steady, steady, steady!’” He was the first of our kings
who would not touch for the evil. He would leave the working of all
miracles, he said, to God alone. The half-chivalrous, half-religious,
custom of washing the feet of the poor on Maundy Thursday, was
also discontinued by this prince, the last of the heroic five Princes of
Orange.
Great as William was in battle, he perhaps never exhibited more of
the true quality of bravery than when on his voyage to Holland in
1691, he left the fleet, commanded by Sir Cloudesley Shovel and Sir
George Rooke, and in the midst of a thick fog attempted, with some
noblemen of his retinue, to land in an open boat. “The danger,” says
Mr. Macaulay, who may be said to have painted the incident in a few
words, “proved more serious than they had expected.” It had been
supposed that in an hour the party would be on shore. But great
masses of floating ice impeded the progress of the skiff; the night
came on, the fog grew thicker, the waves broke over the king and the
courtiers. Once the keel struck on a sandbank, and was with great
difficulty got off. The hardiest mariners showed some signs of
uneasiness, but William through the whole night was as composed
as if he had been in the drawing-room at Kensington. “For shame,”
he said to one of the dismayed sailors, “are you afraid to die in my
company?” The vehis Cæsarem was, certainly, not finer than this.
The consort of Queen Anne was of a less chivalrous spirit than
William. Coxe says of him, that even in the battle-field he did not
forget the dinner-hour, and he appears to have had more stomach
for feeding than fighting. Of George I., the best that can be said of
him in his knightly capacity, has been said of him, by Smollet, in the
remark, that this prince was a circumspect general. He did not,
however, lack either courage or impetuosity. He may have learned
circumspection under William of Orange. Courage was the common
possession of all the Brunswick princes. Of some of them, it formed
the solitary virtue. But of George I., whom it was the fashion of poets,
aspiring to the laureatship, to call the great, it can not be said, as
was remarked of Philip IV. of Spain, when he took the title of “Great,”
“He has become great, as a ditch becomes great, by losing the land
which belonged to it.”
One more custom of chivalry observed in this reign, went finally out
in that of George II. I allude to the custom of giving hostages.
According to the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, “two persons of rank were
to reside in France, in that capacity, as sureties to France that Great
Britain should restore certain of its conquests in America and the
West Indies.” The “Chevalier,” Prince Charles Edward, accounted
this as a great indignity to England, and one which, he said, he
would not have suffered if he had been in possession of his rights.
The age of chivalry, in the old-fashioned sense of the word, went out
before Burke pronounced it as having departed. I do not think it
survived till the reign of George II. In that reign chivalry was defunct,
but there was an exclusive class, whose numbers arrogated to
themselves that nice sense of honor which was supposed, in olden
times, to have especially distinguished the knight. The people
alluded to were par excellence, the people of “fashion.” The
gentlemen who guarded, or who were supposed to guard, the
brightest principle of chivalry, were self-styled rather than universally
acknowledged, “men of honor.”
The man of honor has been painted by “one of themselves.” The
Earl of Chesterfield spoke with connoissance de fait, when he
treated of the theme; and his lordship, whose complacency on this
occasion, does not permit him to see that his wit is pointed against
himself, tells a story without the slightest recollection of the pithy
saying of the old bard, “De te fabula narratur.”
“A man of honor,” says Lord Chesterfield, “is one who peremptorily
affirms himself to be so, and who will cut anybody’s throat that
questions it, even upon the best grounds. He is infinitely above the
restraints which the laws of God or man lay upon vulgar minds, and
knows no other ties but those of honor, of which word he is to be the
sole expounder. He must strictly advocate a party denomination,
though he may be utterly regardless of its principles. His expense
should exceed his income considerably, not for the necessaries, but
for the superfluities of life, that the debts he contracts may do him
honor. There should be a haughtiness and insolence in his
deportment, which is supposed to result from conscious honor. If he
be choleric and wrong-headed into the bargain, with a good deal of
animal courage, he acquires the glorious character of a man of
honor; and if all these qualifications are duly seasoned with the
genteelest vices, the man of honor is complete; anything his wife,
children, servants, or tradesmen, may think to the contrary,
notwithstanding.”
Lord Chesterfield goes on to exemplify the then modern chivalrous
guardian of honor, by drawing the portrait of a friend under an
assumed name. He paints a certain “Belville” of whom his male
friends are proud, his female friends fond, and in whom his party
glories as a living example—frequently making that example the
authority for their own conduct. He has lost a fortune by
extravagance and gambling; he is uneasy only as to how his honor is
to be intact by acquitting his liabilities from “play.” He must raise
money at any price, for, as he says, “I would rather suffer the
greatest incumbrance upon my fortune, than the least blemish upon
my honor.” His privilege as a peer will preserve him from those
“clamorous rascals, the tradesmen”; and lest he should not be able
to get money by any other means, to pay his “debts of honor,” he
writes to the prime minister and offers to sell his vote and conscience
for the consideration of fifteen hundred pounds. He exacts his money
before he records his vote, persuaded as he is that the minister will
not be the first person that ever questioned the honor of the
chivalrous Belville.
The modern knight has, of course, a lady love. The latter is as much
like Guinever, of good King Arthur’s time, as can well be; and she
has a husband who is more suspicious and jealous than the founder
of the chivalrous Round Table. “Belville” can not imagine how the
lady’s husband can be suspicious, for he and Belville have been
play-fellows, school-fellows, and sworn friends in manhood.
Consequently, Belville thinks that wrong may be committed in all
confidence and security. “However,” he writes to the lady, “be
convinced that you are in the hands of a man of honor, who will not
suffer you to be ill-used, and should my friend proceed to any
disagreeable extremities with you, depend upon it, I will cut the c
——’s throat for him.”
Life in love, so in lying. He writes to an acquaintance that he had
“told a d——d lie last night in a mixed company,” and had challenged
a “formal old dog,” who had insinuated that “Belville” had violated the
truth. The latter requests his “dear Charles” to be his second—“the
booby,” he writes of the adversary who had detected him in a lie,
“was hardly worth my resentment, but you know my delicacy where
honor is concerned.”
Lord Chesterfield wrote more than one paper on the subject of men
of honor. For these I refer the reader to his lordship’s works. I will
quote no further from them than to show a distinction, which the
author draws with some ingenuity. “I must observe,” he says, “that
there is a great difference between a Man of Honor and a Person
of Honor. By Persons of Honor were meant, in the latter part of
the last century, bad authors and poets of noble birth, who were but
just not fools enough to prefix their names in great letters to the
prologues, epilogues, and sometimes even the plays with which they
entertained the public. But now that our nobility are too generous to
interfere in the trade of us poor, professed authors” (his lordship is
writing anonymously, in the World), “or to eclipse our performances
by the distinguished and superior excellency and lustre of theirs; the
meaning at present of a Person of Honor is reduced to the simple
idea of a Person of Illustrious Birth.”
The chivalrous courage of one of our admirals at the close of the
reign of George II., very naturally excited the admiration of Walpole.
“What milksops,” he writes in 1760, “the Marlboroughs and
Turennes, the Blakes and Van Tromps appear now, who whipped
into winter quarters and into ports the moment their nose looked
blue. Sir Cloudesley Shovel said that an admiral deserved to be
broken who kept great ships out after the end of September; and to
be shot, if after October. There is Hawke in the bay, weathering this
winter (January), after conquering in a storm.”
George III. was king during a longer period than any other sovereign
of England; and the wars and disasters of his reign were more
gigantic than those of any other period. He was little of a soldier
himself; was, however, constitutionally brave; and had his courage
and powers tested by other than military matters. The politics of his
reign wore his spirit more than if he had been engaged in carrying on
operations against an enemy. During the first ten years after his
accession, there were not less than seven administrations; and the
cabinets of Newcastle and Bute, Grenville and Rockingham, Grafton
and North, Shelburne and Portland, were but so many camps, the
leaders in which worried the poor monarch worse than the Greeks
badgered unhappy Agamemnon. Under the administration of Pitt he
was hardly more at his ease, and in no degree more so under that of
Addington, or that of All the Talents, and of Spencer Perceval. An
active life of warfare could not have more worn the spirit and health
of this king than political intrigues did; intrigues, however, be it said,
into which he himself plunged with no inconsiderable delight, and
with slender satisfactory results.
He was fond of the display of knightly ceremonies, and was never
more pleased than when he was arranging the ceremonies of
installation, and turning the simple gentlemen into knights. Of the
sons who succeeded him, George IV. was least like him in good
principle of any sort, while William IV. surpassed him in the
circumstance of his having been in action, where he bore himself
spiritedly. The race indeed has ever been brave, and I do not know
that I can better close the chapter than with an illustration of the
“Battle-cry of Brunswick.”
THE BATTLE-CRY OF BRUNSWICK.
The “Battle-cry of Brunswick” deserves to be commemorated among
the acts of chivalry. Miss Benger, in her “Memoirs of Elizabeth,
Queen of Bohemia,” relates that Christian, Duke of Brunswick, was
touched alike by the deep misfortunes, and the cheerful patience of
that unhappy queen. Indignant at the neglect with which she was
treated by her father, James I. of England, and her uncle, Frederick
of Denmark, Duke Christian “seemed suddenly inspired by a
sentiment of chivalric devotion, as far removed from vulgar gallantry
as heroism from ferocity. Snatching from her hand a glove, which he
first raised with reverence to his lips, he placed it in his Spanish hat,
as a triumphal plume which, for her sake, he ever after wore as a
martial ornament; then drawing his sword he took a solemn oath
never to lay down arms until he should see the King and Queen of
Bohemia reinstated in the Palatinate. No sooner had Christian taken
this engagement than he eagerly proclaimed it to the world, by
substituting on his ensign, instead of his denunciation of priests, an
intelligible invocation to Elizabeth in the words ‘For God and for her!’
Fur Gott und fur sie!”