100 books like Ireland

This is a little historical gem. The author was the wife of the British consul to Constantinople in 1718 and wrote copious letters home detailing her travels and her life in the Ottoman Empire’s capital. She describes the exoticism, the requirement that women be veiled in public (which she saw as freeing), the sumptuous jewels and wealth, the admiration of pregnant women (and the pressure to be pregnant to prove you were still young).   

Her description of smallpox ‘parties’ is particularly interesting. These gatherings were held annually to inoculate children by using a tiny amount of smallpox pus scratched into the forearm. A survivor of smallpox herself, Mary had her own small son successfully inoculated and brought the knowledge back with her to England, but it was not until Edward Jenner introduced a vaccine later in the century that a treatment became more widely known.

This is an intriguing account of a lesser known period in Irish History, an unusual focus on a surprisingly successful and wealthy time. Stopford Greene was an Anglo-Irish historian, the daughter of a Protestant Archdeacon and the granddaughter of a Bishop. In this remarkable book, using material contemporaneous with her chosen period, she explores the centuries after Ireland had recovered from the Norman Invasion when it had developed a rich and sophisticated society and a thriving trade with the Continent of Europe. All of this ended with the devastation of the Tudor conquest and England’s subsequent genocidal policies.

A committed nationalist, Alice paid from her own pocket for the guns which were run into Howth Harbour in 1914 to help with the Rising.

The fascination of this book is its portrayal of the human cost involved in the fall of a civilisation. After the Bolshevik Revolution the cream of Russian society, including most of the aristocrats, the professional classes, the officer class, the middle class, fled Russia with little but the clothes on their backs. Being Francophone, most of them sought refuge in Paris only to find there destitution. Grand Dukes who formerly had palaces, country estates and scores of servants, now drove taxis, waited at table, washed dishes; Grand Duchesses embroidered for fashion houses (the lucky ones), all yearning for their homeland and being, as time passed, regarded with less and less tolerance by the French.  

The book is a reminder that catastrophe waits only for opportunity.

Susan Nagel charted Marie-Thérèse's life during the turmoil of the French Revolution. The only survivor of the royal family locked in Temple Prison, despite the harrowing experience of her family’s demise and the French Revolution, Marie Antoinette’s daughter emerged as a remarkably strong figure in French history.

Marie-Thérèse journeyed from the horrors of the Temple prison and her family’s death to a dignified role at court when she married her cousin and the monarchy returned after the Revolution and Napoleon’s empire. I was amazed at how little I knew about Marie-Thérèse—she was even queen for 20 minutes when her husband reigned and abdicated!

Like his classic Democracy in America, 19th-century French author Alexis de Tocqueville’s analysis of the great movement for freedom in his own country raises profound questions about the difficult relationship between liberty and equality. Modern scholarship has challenged some of Tocqueville’s assertions, but his warning that events often turn out very differently from what the actors in them intended is as relevant today as it was when his book was first published in 1856.

And no such list is complete without Alexis de Tocqueville's classic from the 19th century, Democracy in America. Weighing in just two pages short of Don Quixote's 937 (paperback both, the ECCO Grossman Quixote translation and the Penguin Gerald Bevan de Tocqueville edition), Tocqueville ponders a question most of us contemplate and plenty of us act on: "Why Americans are so restless in the midst of their prosperity..."

Kronman is particularly good at describing the “tough” reasoning skills that underlie the thinking styles that have produced modern science and modern democracies. An example of these tough skills is what he calls the “ethic of depersonalization”: expressing arguments in a form available to all—a form not dependent on our emotions or personal experience. Identity politics, in contrast, gives weight to immutable demographic characteristics in ongoing political conversations.  It thus reverses centuries of progress in the intellectual march toward open, ecumenical inquiry, where personal characteristics do not trump rational argument.

Even though it was written in the nineteenth century, few books have ever matched Alexis de Tocqueville’s description of the strengths and weaknesses of the American system of government.

Most interesting to me is his insistence that, for all its democratic precepts, there are few defenses against tyranny in the United States. Although people more often focus on his account of the tyranny of the majority or democratic despotism, he is equally clear on how racism creates kinds of tyranny and that the American emphasis on economics are also ways that tyranny can take root.

I learn something new each time I read it!

A collection of essays about “classic” works of history by (mostly) European historians ranging from Edward Gibbon to Jacob Burckhardt, Clive’s book brings these works to life even for readers unfamiliar with them. Clive’s short but rich essays on these historians provide a wonderful introduction to both their writings and to the study of historiography more generally, showing the value of these classic texts as works of literature and as gateways into the worlds of their authors.

Today, we tend to think of liberalism as a political ideology concerned with politics, law, free markets, and the like.

Rosenblatt’s wonderful book shows us how far—and how poor and anemic—that vision of liberalism is compared to that of its founders in the 19th century. Old-school liberals, including Alexis de Tocqueville, J.S. Mill, Germaine de Staël, and Benjamin Constant, pursued high-minded ethical ideals of what it means to live freely and generously in our modern world. We would do well to remember them.