Good  afternoon.  It  is really  wonderful  to  see  everyone gathered  here  this  afternoon  on  a  rainy  day, but  such  festive  spirit  here. I  am  Angela  Craig. I'm  Chair  of  the  Department  of  History, and  I'm  really  delighted  to  welcome  you  to today's  celebration  in  honor  of Sir  David  Canada  and currently  the  Dodge  Professor  of  History. Professor  Canada  line  is  shifting to  Emeritus  status  the  spring. And  so  we  were  very eager  to  mark  the  occasion. When  I  asked  him  what  he  would  like  us  to  do, he  responded,  I  would  like  to  give  a  lecture. How  many  of  you  attended  the  datacenters 50th  anniversary  a  few  years  ago? Well,  anyone  who  is  there knows  that  a  lecture by  David  Canada  and  is  a  real  treat. He  is  a  spellbinding and  mesmerizing  lecturer. And  this  is  also  attested to  by  the  hundreds  of Princeton  students  who  have  been  taking his  courses  since  he  came  to  us  in  2008. So  I'm  really  thrilled that  he  decided  to  take  off this  this  particular  kind of  valedictorians  send  off. I'll  just  say  a  few  words about  about  David  and then  hand  it  over  to  my  colleague. For  those  of  you  who  are  readers  of  his  work, you  know  that  Canada  has a  gift  rare  among  historians  and  ability to  write  and  graceful, elegant  prose  about complex  and  difficult  subjects. Like  several  of  his  chosen  subjects, Georgia  College  rebellion, evoked  in  a  luminous  biography, JH  plum  recalled  by a  font  former  pupil  and  moving  memoir, or  even  the  series  of  essays about  Winston  Churchill. Sir  David  has  evoked  the  past  in  Britain  and all  of  its  complexity  and  grandeur. He  has  mastered  many  forms. The  scholarly  monograph,  the  pen  portrait, the  biography  as  doorstop, the  biography  is  thumbnail  sketch. It's  not  for  not  that he's  been  named  editor  of the  Oxford  Dictionary  of  National  Biography and  of  course  the  essay, a  form  to  which  he  is returned  again  and  again over  five  decades  as  a  practicing  historian, I  will  leave  it  to  my  colleague  David  Bell, who  is  the  Sydney  and ruthless  Qaeda's  Professor in  the  era  of North  Atlantic  Revolutions  and  Director of  the  Davis  Centre  to  give a  fuller  introduction  to  Sir  David and  about  his  connections  to Princeton  and  the  historical  profession. I  think  that's  a  subject  about  which David  may  have  something  to  say  on  his  own. So  it's  wonderful  to  see so  many  people  here  today. It  is  a  great  honor  to  have the  opportunity  to  introduce Sir  David  candidate  in  on  this, the  occasion  of his  valedictorian  lecture  at  Princeton. I  will  also  say  that  it  is  deeply, deeply  Intimidating  of  all  the  historians in  the  world  today  is, Angela  has  already  said,  Sir, David  is  without  a  doubt,  one  of the  most  eloquent  and  witty. On  occasions  like  this, I  think  bring  out his  eloquence  and  his  wit  to the  full.  As  Angela. Angela  spoke  of  the  lecture  he gave  about  Lawrence  Stone  at the  50th  anniversary  davis  center a  few  years  ago.  And  I  still  remember  this. I  remember  listening  to  it was  really  stunned  admiration, particularly  since  he  seemed  to  deliver it  entirely  without  notes. It  was  an  absolutely  virtuoso  performance. One  of  many  insert  David's  career, I  can't  come,  I  can't hope  to  come  close  to  matching  it  here  today. But  at  least  his  eloquence  will  shine. All  of  them  are  brightly  to you  in  comparison  with  my  own. So  a  reader  who only  new  Sir  David  Canada  and  from his  extraordinarily  long  and extraordinarily  distinguished body  of  publications. I  would  doubtless  assume  that the  Dodge  professor  of  history  has  devoted himself  to  scholarship  into scholarship  alone  throughout  his  career. But  in  fact, these  publications  only  represent one  facet  of  what  has  really been  quite  remarkable  professional  Odyssey. Because  he  has  also  done  as  much  as any  living  historian  I  think, in  service  both  to  the  world  of scholarship  and  also  to  the  general  public. This  combination  of achievements  is  rare  indeed. And  I  think  we  at  Princeton, really  fortunate  beyond measure  to  have  benefited  from his  presence  in  the  history department  since  2008. This  has  been  only  the  most  recent chapter  and  a  stellar  curriculum vitae  that  is  also included  electric  ship  at  Cambridge. The  more  Collegiate  Professorship  of  History at  Columbia  University. Both  the  directorship  of the  Institute  for  Historical  Research in  London  and  a  position there  as  Queen  Elizabeth, the  Queen  Mother professor  of  British  history. But  let  me  first  speak  of  the  scholarship. So  David's  nearly  half  a  century's  worth  of publications  has  focused  above  all, on  the  grand  themes  of social  status,  hierarchy  and  distinction. Why  of  certain  groups gained  high-status  privilege  and  power. How  they  preserve  these  things. Have  they  lost  them?  What  have been  the  contributing  roles  of  wealth, of  culture,  of  tradition,  of  violence. Now  I  think  Princeton  can  claim at  least  some  credit  for David's  interests  in  these  matters. Because  while  he  was  still  in Oxford  graduate  student  in  1973  to  74, he  spent  the  academic  year here  as  a  J  analyze  a  proctor  fellow. And  here  he  fell  under  the influence  of  Lawrence  Stone, who  was  one  of  the  great  historians  of English  social  status  and of  the  English  aristocracy. But  sir  David  soon  went  off  in his  own  direction  with the  publication  of  his  first  book, lords  and  landlords, the  aristocracy  and  the  towns, 17  74  to  1967,  published  in  1980. It  argued  compellingly  based  on case  studies  that  included her  David's  own  hometown  of  Birmingham. That  from  the  late  18th  century to  the  mid  20th, British  aristocrats  exercised less  and  less  real  influence over  urban  development, even  while  continuing  to  garner social  prestige  and  high  incomes from  their  urban  properties. This  book  was  already  widely  applauded, but  it  paved  the  way for  what  I  think  we  have  to regard  as  the  first of  David's  magnum  opus  era, the  decline  in  fall of  the  British  aristocracy, which  was  published  in  1990. This  was  a  brilliant  and  wide  ranging  work of  social  and  cultural  history, attract  the  declining  fortunes, both  literal  and  figurative, of  the  British  upper-class,  1880-1980. And  it  paid  attention to  such  different  factors as  the  collapse  of  agricultural prices  on  the  one  hand, and  the  rise  of  a  democratic spirit  on  the  other. In  his  review  for the  New  York  Review  of  Books no  n  and  concluded  of  the  book, no  praise  can  be  too  high. And  he  and  other  reviewers lauded  it  not  only  for  the  strength  of the  conclusions  and  for the  stunning  extent  of  the  research, but  also  for  the  elegance  of  the  pros. And  this  made  the,  angela referred  to  it  as  a  doorstop  and  it  is, but  this  made  the  decline in  Falls  800  page  length, not  a  burden,  but actually  a  feast  from  there. So  David's  work  has  gone  in numerous  directions  into  shorter, more  speculative  books  class  in Britain  and  ornamental  ism, how  the  British  saw  their  empire from  1990,  8.2001,  respectively. He  offered  provocative  arguments  about the  nature  and  importance  of  social  class, not  only  in  Britain  but also  in  its  overseas  empire. Ornamental  ism, which  I  think  it's  fair  to  call her  David's  most  controversial  book  offered a  riposte  to  Edward  Said's influential  or  Orientalism. It's  suggested  that  class  mattered. Perhaps  almost  as  much  as  race, maybe  as  much  as  race. And  how  the  British  ruling  elite related  to  the  empire  subject  peoples. And  it  started  a  series  of lively  and  very  important  debates. But  meanwhile,  Sir  David, having  already  written  a  compelling  biography of  the  historian  GM  pavilion, was  now  embarked  on a  genuinely  grand  biographical  project. Another  magnum  opus  and other  doorstop  melon  and  American  Life, published  in  2006  in wonderfully  opulent  and  fascinating  detail. Sir  David  now  ventured  across the  Atlantic  into the  realm  of  American  history. And  here  he  told  the  ultimately tragic  story  of  Andrew  Mellon, the  financier,  the industrialist  and  treasury  secretary, who  during  the  Great  Depression withdrew  from  public  life  and  a  devoted himself  to  the  art  collection that  would  eventually  form the  basis  for  the  collection  of the  National  Gallery  in  Washington. A  book  that  was  also  widely, widely  praised  and  saluted. Sir  David  could  easily  have  stopped  there. His  reputation  assured. But  since  the  appearance  of Mellon,  he  has  published, by  my  count  no  fewer  than  ten  more  books, including  short  biographies  of George  the  Fifth  and  Margaret  Thatcher. And  also  a  commanding  history of  19th  century  Britain, victorious  century,  the  United  Kingdom, 1800s  to  1906,  published  in  2017. All  in  all  he  is  written  by  my  count, but  I  may  be  coming  short  here. Remarkable  21  books. He  has  edited  or  coedited  another  17, and  he  shows  no  sign  of  slowing  down. This  is  not  to  speak  of  his  essays, which  are,  which  are  joules, gems  of  beautiful  prose and  that  bring  history  alive, not  only  for  people  in  the  profession, but  also  for  a  very  wide audience  beyond  the  profession, as  Angela's  already  noted. But  as  I  said  at  the  start, this  record  of  exceptionally prolific  and  distinguished  scholarship has  only  been  one  aspect  of Sir  David  Canada  Anne's  career. Equally  important,  has  been astonishing  level  of  service, both  the  scholarship  and to  the  general  public. He's  belonged  to  a  score  of  editorial  boards. And  he  has  taken  on the  chief  editorship  of  projects that  have  included  the penguin  history  of  Britain, the  penguin  history  of  Europe, the  Oxford  Dictionary  of  National  Biography. In  addition  to  his  time  directing the  Institute  of  Historical Research,  by  my  count, he  has  served  as  a  board  member  or  trustee  of over  40  institutions,  principally  in  Britain. Some  of  these  appointments certainly  had  been  honorific, but  many  have  involved  really heroic  amounts  of  labor, including  notably  David's  term  as  chair  of the  board  of  the British  National  Portrait  Gallery  in London  and  his  presidency  of the  British  Academy  positions  which  are also  of  course  great  honors  for  him. And  in  addition,  anyone  who goes  to  Britain  should  be grateful  to  him  for  the  seven  years  he  spent sharing  the  blue  plaques panel  of  British  heritage. People  that  put  up  those plaques  all  over  London, indeed  all  over  Britain, which  tell  you  who  has  lived  and what  has  happened  in  these  places. So David's  achievements have  been  recognized  with far  too  many  honors  to  mention  them  all  here. They  include  many  book  prizes. No  fewer  than  11  honorary  degrees, including  from  Cambridge, University  of  London, and  University  of  Birmingham. And  then  of  course,  in  2008, his  knighthood  from Queen  Elizabeth  the  second. But  again,  as  this  continued  productivity makes  clear,  Sir, David  is  not  one  to  sit  on his  laurels  at  Princeton is  we'll  be  hearing  later  on, Sir  David  has  served  as  an  important  bridge between  the  university  and  British  academia. He's  been  an  enormously  popular  teacher. He's  been  an  unfailingly friendly  and  generous  colleague. The  graduate  seminar  that  he  co-teachers on  British  history  with  Linda  Colleen, I  think  it's  safe  to  say  as legendary  among  the  universities, european  history  PhD  graduates, the  university  is  gonna  be  a  much poorer  place  for  his  absence. But  we're  lucky  that  he has  a  very  strong  reason  indeed, to  keep  Princeton  on  his  travel  itinerary. For  everything  that  he  has  done. He  has  both  our  admiration  and  are  developed. Thanks.  And  so  it is  with  the  greatest  pleasure that  I  give  you, Sir  David,  Canada.  Thank  you. Angela.  David,  dear  friends. Thank  you  so  much  for  those exceptionally  kind  and  generous  words. Far  more  kind  and  generous  than  I  could ever  aspire  to  merit  or  hope  to  deserve. But  that  in  no  sense  diminishes  my  gratitude. And  I  shall  cherish  them and  remember  them  forever. Across  my  career,  I  have  earned  my  living by  speaking  as  much  as  writing. The  result  of  this  is  that  I  had  become an  unrivaled  connoisseur of  introductions  to  myself. Not  it  must  be  said  of  fiercely competed  for  a  position. I  have  never  forgotten  the  occasion  when  I was  on  the  road  with  my  biography of  Andrew  Mellon  and  I  was speaking  in  Kansas  City and  had  dinner  was  put  on. And  after  the  dinner, I  repair  to  the  lecture  hall and  the  person  introducing  me, smokers  follows  you  said  it's a  huge  pleasure  to welcome  David  Canada  into  Kansas. He  is  the  author  of the  greatest  biography  of Andrew  Mellon  ever  written. And  I  rather  prefer  myself  at this  point  until  the  evening  promised, well, you  then  select  this  bolt,  the  effect  bad. And  it  is  of  course,  the  only  biography. So  not  only  thank you  for  the  very  kind  things  you  said, but  thank  you  so  much  for  not having  said  that. It  seemed  a  great  idea to  propose  that  I  should give  a  valedictorian  lecture when  I  dreamed  it  up. I'm  not  sure.  It  seems  quite such  a  good  idea  now. Not  least  because  they  are relatively  rare  events  in  anglophone  academe. And  it's  easy  to  understand  why, Because  they  can  in  some  ways  be risky  ventures  and  can prove  unhappy  undertakings. Hugh  Trevor  Roper,  e.g. having  mistakenly  authenticated  what turned  out  to  have  been the  forged  diaries  of  adult, Hitler,  was  never  allowed  to  forget  that. Here's  Oxford  University. Valedictorian  as  Regis  Professor  have  been entitled  history  and  imagination. I'm  very  eager  to  avoid  giving similar  hostages  to  Fortunes  today. That  end,  I  mindful  of some  wise  remarks  of  a  friend  who  once  told me  that  taking  up  a  job  and  leaving  a  job  or both  occasions  for  generating the  maximum  amount  of  goodwill. Even  if  when  mishandled, they  can  result  in precisely  the  opposite  outcome. But  I  have  absolutely  no such  mishandling  to  report. And  in  taking  my  leave  of the  Dodge  Professorship  of history  at  Princeton  University, I  am  full  of  gratitude, history,  and  of  goodwill  to  Princeton. I  have  no  access  to  grind, no  scores  to  settle, no  grudges  to  bear, and  no  hobby  horses  to  ride. And  be  assured  there  will  be much  more  about  history  and about  Princeton  in this  lecture  than  about  me. It  was  one  set  of  Winston Churchill  of  whom  more  briefly later  that  he  had  written another  book  about  himself. Only  this  time  he  called  it  the  world  crisis. I  have  tried  hard  to avoid  such  self-indulgent  temptation. Not  least  by  giving  considerable  space, especially  during my  earlier  remarks  and  towards the  very  end  to the  words  and  wisdom  of  other  people, most  of  them  historians, but  by  no  means  all. And  it's behind  there  distilled  brilliance  and accumulated  knowledge that  I  shall  if  needs  be, take  shelter  during  the  reception. History,  Edward  Gibbon  observes early  on  in  his  great  panorama  of the  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire is  indeed  a  little  more  than a  register  of  the  crimes, follies,  and  misfortunes  of  mankind. All  too  often  he  tells  us  the  past  is  not a  subject  or  a  place  for  the  squeamish. There  is  much  about  it  that  makes  us shudder  and  cringe  and unsurprisingly  so  since  the  world has  always  been  a  sinful  place, as  evidenced  and  allegedly  explained  by the  biblical  story  of the  portentous  encounter between  a  malevolent  reptile, a  wayward  women,  are  forbidden  fruit  all unhappily  played  out  in  what  had previously  been  some  sort  of  Edenic. Horticultural  utopia. Nowadays  by  contrast, the  terrorists  and  tragedies of  earlier  times  or sometimes  presented  implemented  as if  they  were  recent,  novel  discoveries. Yet  with  history  itself and  with  the  history  of  history, we  have  so  often  been  there  before. And  what  a  builder's  new  findings  turnout  on closer  inspection  to  be  nothing  of  the  kind. When  it  comes  to  seeing  the  past  is a  frightening  and  frightful  place. Given  got  there  a  long  time  before  we  did. And  he  in  turn  was by  no  means  the  first  to  have done  so  either  through  CDDs  among  others, got  there  many,  many  centuries  before  he  did. Yet  for all  their  undoubted  wisdom  and  veracity, Gibbon  needs  updating  and modification  the  definitions of  what  constitutes  crime  change  over  time. Slavery  was  not  so regarded  in  the  United  Kingdom  in  his  day, but  he's  rightly  deemed  a  crime  now, which  helps  explain  why the  current  debates  over whether  to  apologize  and how  to  atone  for  it  have  become  so insistent  and  so  controversial. By  giving  so  much  attention  to the  sufferings  and  tribulations  of humankind  given  rather  neglected the  other  side  of  the  story. The  sustain  triumphs  and lasting  achievements  of  the  human  spirit, of  human  creativity  and off  to  human  endurance. Getting  that  balance  right has  never  been  easy. Inequality,  exploitation,  violence,  tyranny, and  inhumanity  were  indeed all  there  in  the  past  as  alas, they  are  here  in  the  present. But  so  we're  on  our  creativity,  brilliance, genius,  fortitude, freedom  and  loving  kindness. Much  history  may  indeed  be  horrible, but  some  of  it  should  also  give us  hope  for  the  future. The  arc  of  the  moral  universe, Martin  Luther  King  observed, is  long,  but  he  tends  towards  justice. Not  always,  not  enough  than least  of  all  in our  troubled  and  tortured  times. But  for  all  Gibbons, delicious  and  cynical  ironies, we  should  never  give  up in  drawing  such  inspiration  from the  past  that  it  undoubtedly  also  provides. My  second  quotation  comes  from  one of the  lesser  known  species of  Winston  Churchill. These  days  he  has  again  become the  controversial  figure  that  he  actually whilst  for  most  of  his  long  political  life. And  rightly,  so,  it's  been a  great  privilege  to  have  explored some  of  Churchill's  complexities, limitations  and  failures,  and the  time-bound  aspects  of  his  attitudes. Alongside  his  brilliance,  his  achievements, his  courage  and  his  extraordinary  creativity. And  to  have  done  so  with some  very  bright  and engaged  Princeton  undergraduates this  semester. Possibly  the  last  class, and  certainly  the  best  class  I had  ever  been  lucky  enough  to  teach. And  I'm  very  touched  to  see  so  many  of them  here  this  afternoon. I'm  not  sure  how  much they  have  learned  from  me, but  I've  certainly  learned  a  great  deal  from them  during  our  weekly  discussions. At  best, teaching  undergraduates  is  one  of  the  most satisfying  and  fulfilling  of all  professorial  activities. And  it's  entirely  right  that  this university  places  so  much  stress  on  it. The  Churchill's  speech  from  which  I want  to  quote  is  the  eulogy  he delivered  on  the  death  of Neville  Chamberlain  late  in  1940. Where  an  understandably,  he  pondered  on the  vicissitudes  and fluctuations  of  reputation. And  not  just  Chamberlain's, but  more  generally. In  one  phase,  he  noted men  seem  to  have  been  right. In  another,  they  seem  to  have  been  wrong. Then  again,  a  few  years  later, when  the  perspective  of  time  has  lengthened, all  stands  in  a  different  setting. There  is  a  new  proportion. There  is  another  scale  of  values. This  remains  a  profound  observation. But  once  again,  we've  been  there before  since  Churchill  was  far from  being  the  first  person  to  have noted  this  point,  reputation. Shakespeare  makes  one  of  his characters  remark  in  Othello, reputation  is  an  idol  and most  false  imposition  of God  without  merit  and lost  without deserving  wise  words  that  should  be borne  in  mind  by anyone  who  is  eager  to  pull  a  statue  down, or  indeed  to  put  a  statue up  here  in  Princeton  or  anywhere  else. In  the  same  speech, Churchill  went  on  as  follows. History  with  its  flickering  lamp, stumbles  along  the  trail  of  the  past, trying  to  revive  its  echoes, to  recreate  it  seems, and  kindle  with  pale  gleans, the  passions  of  former  days. We  might  think  that  a  very romanticized  view  of  the  past. But  Churchill  had  more  experience of  making  history  that most  of  us  ever  will  have or  could  possibly  want. And  we  should  certainly  note the  question  that  he  then  posed. Having  described  what  he thought  was  the  essence  of  history, he  went  on  to  inquire what  is  the  worth  of  all  this. It's  an  abiding  and challenging  interrogative  which  all  of us  who  write  and  teach  history must  and  should  confront  in defending  and  justifying the  importance  of  our  discipline. It's  also  a  question  that senior  university  administrators  ask, not  only  here  in  Princeton, but  also  in  many  other  schools  in the  United  States  and  far  beyond. Though  perhaps  they  do  so  just occasionally  with  slightly more  skeptical  intentions. There  is  of  course, an  entire  academic  industry devoted  to  addressing that  Churchill  in  inquiry. And  I  can  only  focus briefly  on  some  aspects  of it  that  seemed  to  me to  be  especially  important. Since  history  is  remixes all  past  human  life  as  well  as, and  increasingly  the  whole of  the  natural  world. It  necessarily  and  rightly  teaches us  perspective  and  proportion. It  takes  us  to  different  places, different  times,  different  cultures, different  environments  where  people  live, different  lives  and  often embrace  different  values  from  our  own. As  such,  history  has always  been  the  best  antidote  there  is to  the  temporal  parochialism  that assumes  that  the  only  time  is  now. And  the  geographical  parochialism  that believes  that  the  only  place  is  here. It  enables  us  to  live  outside ourselves  in  the  then  under  there. And  being  willing  and  able  to  do  that  is a  significant  aspect  of  what  it means  to  be  a  grown  up  person. Once  again,  this  is  not  a  novel  insight. Cicero  would  work  this  out  a  long  time  ago. To  be  ignorant  of  history, he  wants  observe  putting  this  the  other  way is  to  be  forever  rendered  as  a  child. And  there  aren't  too  many  people in  public  life  today  in too  many  countries  who have  never  reached  adulthood. But  you  don't  know  that  they haven't  mistakenly, a  narcissistic  Lee  believed  that  they had  a  knowledge  of  history. By  contrast,  enlarges  our  minds, broadens  our  horizons,  lengthens our  perspectives  and  extends  as  sympathies. This  means,  as  John  Kerry  once  remarked, that  one  of  its  most  important tasks  is  to  bring home  to  us  how  keenly,  honestly, and  painfully  past  generations  the  sued aims  that  now  seem  to us  wrong  or  disgraceful. He  surely  right  about  that. And  this  in  turn  should  engender a  little  humility  about our  own  times  and  our  own  values. Are  we  Mark  block  once  asked. So  sure  of  ourselves  and of  our  age  as  to  divide the  company  of  our  forefathers into  the  just  and  the  ******. Another  important  question  which all  historians  need  to  confront, or  as  ON  Chadwick  put it  with  uncharacteristic  stringency. One  of  the  purposes  of history  is  to  free  us  from  what he  called  the  tyrannies of  present  day  opinions. And  there  are  too  many  of  those  tyrannies out  and  about.  They're  today. Once  again,  we  are  been  there  before  and as  relatively  recently  as  the  early  1950s, when  such  patriotic  Paladin as  General  George  C.  Marshall, Dean  Acheson  were  regularly  denounced  by McCarthy  fanatics  as  traitors, communists,  and  subversives. So  much  for  now,  for  history. As  I  turn  to  Princeton  and  be assured  only  briefly  to  myself. As  the  anthropologist, Clifford  Geertz  of  whom  a  little more  later  once  remarked, historicize  in  yourself,  is an  uncomfortable  sort  of  thing  to  do. And  not  just  for  the  obvious  reason  that  the further  you  move  from the  beginning  of  your  life, the  closer  you  come  to  the  end  of  it. But  also  because  there  are so  many  ways  to  do  it, any  particular  one  seems  arbitrary, rooted  in  very  little  else, but  narrative  convenience. He  goes  on,  if  you  are  concerned merely  to  relate  to  what  you've seen  and  a  bean  through. That  doesn't  matter  so  much. Nobody  is  under  oath  in  autobiography whose  purpose  is  normally  to keep  an  illusion  in  place? Well,  I  hope  I'm  allowed  to  say  that  that  is emphatically  not  my  purpose  today. The  goodwill  of  which  I  earlier  spoke is  not  an  illusion  on  my  part, but  I  hope  and  believe it  is  manifestly  genuine. Nor  is  it  an  illusion  to  state  that  I was  born  in  1950  and  in  the  Western  world, in  the  city  of  Birmingham, in  the  British  midlands  to  be  exact. And  that  time  and  that  location with  two  prodigious  pieces  of  good  fortune, which  by  sheer  chance gave  me  the  best  start  in  life. It  was  then  possible  to  have. My  parents,  by  contrast, had  not  been  anything  like  so  lucky. They'd  both  been  born  in  1917 in  the  midst  of  what  was  then called  the  Great  War. They  grew  up  just  in  time  to  be  in the  midst  of  what  was  then called  the  Great  Depression. And  by  the  time  that  was  tailing  off, my  father  was  conscripted  to  fight in  the  Second  World  War  in  South  Asia, where  he  nearly  died  of  malaria. It  was  a  near  run  thing  for  him. And  if  he  had  died, I  wouldn't,  of  course,  be  here  today. How  different  instead  has my  life  being  from  theirs. If  my  father  and  mother  belong  to what  has  been  called  the  greatest  generation, a  hyperbolic  attributes,  by  the  way that  they  would  certainly  have  disavowed. I  undoubtedly  belong  to what  must  surely  have  been the  luckiest  generation  ever to  have  lived  anywhere, anytime  any  place  across  more  than  70  years. My  contemporaries  and  I  have  enjoyed  peace, progress,  plenty, and  prosperity  in  the  Western  world, though  I  recognize  things  were very  different  elsewhere  and that  the  generations  who were  followed  mine  in the  West  have  not  been anything  like  so  fortunate. One  indication  of  my  own  good  luck was  that  I  got  a  terrific  education. The  primary  school  at  grammar  school, and  eventually  at  university. And  it  was  all  free, paid  for  by  the  state and  by  my  local  authority, which  meant  that  when  I  graduated, neither  I  nor  my  parents  had  any  debts. It  was  a  different  time. I  fear  that  for  much  of my  childhood  and  adolescence, I  took  it  for  granted  that  this  was the  permanent  and  preordained state  of  affairs. But  of  course  it  was  nothing  of the  kind  that  has  borne  out  by  the  fact that  I  was  the  first  member  of my  family  to  go  to university  and  not  just  any  university, but  the  University  of  Cambridge. That  was  another  extraordinary  piece  of  luck, as  well  as  the  fact  that  I  seem to  have  succeeded  in  persuading the  examiners  in  part  one of  the  historical  tripod to  think  far  better  of  me  than they  probably  should  have  done. The  result  was  that  in  the  summer  of  1971, I  was  summoned  by  Erik  Ashby, the  master  of  my  Cambridge  College, a  distinguished  and  very well-traveled  scientist  with a  wide  experience  of universities  in  Australia, Africa,  and  the  United  States, as  well  as  the  United  Kingdom. And  he'd  also  played string  quartets  with  Einstein. He  was  a  great  mentor  to many  young  people  than  I  was  one  of  those who  luckily  benefited  from his  guidance  and  advice. You  must  go  away  from  here. He  told  me,  Don't  spend all  your  life  in  Cambridge. Some  people  do,  which  may  be  fine  for  them. But  your  mind  needs  expanding. You  must  see  more  of  the  world. You  must  get  out  more. Go  to  Oxford  University  as a  graduate  student  and  then go  out  and  study  in  America. It  will  be  a  great  unnecessary  liberation. Then,  as  has  always been  the  case  throughout  my  life, I  did,  as  I  was  told. At  Oxford,  I  researched  on  the  involvement  of aristocratic  landowners  in nineteenth-century  real  estate  development and  urban  expansion. And  as  you've  already  heard, in  the  midst  of  that  graduate  work, I  was  awarded  the  J  and Eliza  proctor  visiting  fellowship to  come  here  to  Princeton. This  was  my  first  visit  to the  United  States  and  it did  not  get  off  to  the  best  of  beginnings. I  flew  by  what  was  then  known  as the  British  Overseas  Airways  Corporation. It  was  not  a  wholly  comfortable  ride. But  only  later  that  did  some  American  friends tell  me  that  that  should  have  been no  surprise  since  the  acronym B0  AAC  really  stood  for  better  on  a  camel. I  have  never  yet  been  able to  make  that  comparison. I  ought  to  say,  on arrival  at  Kennedy  Airport, the  heat  was  sweltering, the  humidity  overwhelming, and  I  was  wearing a  heavy  Harris  tweed  jacket, the  most  inappropriate  form of  a  tire  imaginable. I  was  met  by  a  school  friend  who took  me  perspiring  heavily  and exhausted  and  disoriented  with jet  lag  on the  New  York  subway  to  42nd  Street. Then  in  the  full  bloom  of pornographic  abundance  and  erotic  squalor. Then  onto  the  Port  Authority  Bus  Terminal from  where  we  headed  out  to the  New  Jersey  Turnpike, where  I  beheld  the  polluted  wasteland  and degraded  swamps  which  we  traversed. If  this  was  broadening my  mind  and  a  great  liberation, I  thought  to  myself, It  did  not  seem  to  have  got off  to  a  very  good  start. Late  that  night. I  eventually  arrived  here  at  Princeton  to what  seemed  like  a  welcoming  cores from  the  Dakotas. And  thus  began  what  turned  out  to  be the  house  and  the  great  liberation. Erik  Ashby  had  indeed  rightly  urged. I  needed  much  of the  campus  architecture  reminded me  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge. I  soon  felt  right  at home  and  I  made  several  good, lasting,  lifelong  friends, some  of  whom  are  kindly  and  loyalty  here. Today,  I  took  a  range of  graduate  courses  in  English  history, European  economic  history, comparative  history, cultural  history,  and  quantitative  methods. I  attended  the  Davis  Centre  seminars and  was  taken  up  by  Lauren  stone, one  of  the  titans  of  the  department. And  I  wrote  an  early  draft of  my  Oxford  dissertation. Parenthetically,  I also  tried  to  write  a  novel, but  I  soon  discovered  I  couldn't  do dialogue  or  the  characters spoke  just  like  me. And  even  I  got  bored  with  that. But  the  intellectual  stimulation  was  almost exhausting  Lee  and  unrelentingly  abundant. And  as  if  that  wasn't  enough, my  Princeton  year,  1973-1974, coincided  with a  developing  Watergate  scandal, which  unfolded  compulsively  on American  television  day  by day  and  evening  by  evening. Which  led  me  to  conclude  that  when  it comes  to  staging  political  theatre, no  country  did  it  better than  the  United  States, as  indeed  it  still  does. By  sheer  coincidence,  I  paid  my  first  visit to  Washington  DC  in  October  1973, the  very  weekend  Richard  Nixon  sat. Archibald  Cox,  the  special  prosecutor, appointed  to  investigate  the break-in  at  the  Watergate  complex. In  retrospect,  this  was  the  beginning of  the  end  of  the  Nixon  presidency, and  he  would  resign  in  early  August  1974, not  long  after  I  had  left Princeton  and  returned  to  Britain. Before  I  did  so, I  traveled  around  the  country  on Amtrak  out  west  to  Chicago, south  to  New  Orleans, across  to  Los  Angeles  with a  diversionary  trip  to  Mexico  City  when  one of  the  trains  on  which  I  was  traveling  was shot  at  the  West  Coast, to  Seattle,  then  back  to Chicago  and  to  Princeton. I  made  many  stops  on  route, spent  many  nights  sleeping intermittently  on many  uncomfortable  rail  cars. But  traveling  by  trade helped  me  to  appreciate  the  variety  and vastness  of  this  land-based  empire in  ways  that  flying  from  place to  place  would  never  have  done. It  was  the  perfect  finale  to a  life-changing  adventure and  an  unforgettable  year. I  returned  to  Britain  by ship  on  the  Queen  Elizabeth  the  Second. And  as  we  sail  down  the  Hudson  River  Park, the  statue  of  liberty beneath  the  Arizona  Bridge, and  headed  to  the  open  sea  of  the  Atlantic. I  looked  back  at  the  New  York  skyline  and that  gene  comparable  urban  vista and  maritime  panorama, which  across  many  years  and  many  arrivals  and departures  has  never  failed to  lift  my  spirits. And  I  resolved  that  I  would  return. Although  at  that  time  I  had  not the  remotest  idea  how  or  where  or  when. The  years  1969-1975, when  I  was  lucky  enough  to  be studying  at  Cambridge,  Oxford, and  Princeton  were exceptionally  disruptive  times, even  though  scarcely  any  of that  disruption  rubbed  off  on  me. The  bright  hopes  I  should  end  by John  F.  Kennedy's  inaugural  in January  1961  or  the  new  frontier  and  a  new liberal  door  that  the  torch  has  been passed  to  a  new  generation  of  Americans. That  the  United  States  would  bear any  burden  and  pay  any  price  to assure  the  survival  and  success of  liberty  anywhere  in  the  world that  all  forms  of  human  poverty might  now  be  abolished across  and  around  the  globe. Those  bright  hopes  had  been brutally  ended  by  his  assassination. And  I  still  of  course, remember  where  I  was  when  in  Britain  we had  got  the  news  that  Kennedy  had  been  shot. His  successor  Lyndon  Johnson  had  won a  landslide  victory  in  1964, had  promised  to  create  a  great  society, had  vowed  to  wage  and  win the  war  on  poverty,  had  passed. The  Civil  Rights  Act  created the  National  Endowment  for the  Arts  and  the  Humanities, along  with  public  television as  we  know  it  today. But  his  presidency  had  ended  in  failure, disarray,  recriminations,  and  humiliation. He  did  not  seek  the  Democratic  nomination to  stand  for  re-election  in  1968. And  the  Republican  Richard  Nixon won  in  November  that  year. But  by  a  narrow  victory  that showed  just  how  bitterly divided  and  deeply  polarized United  States  then  was. I  still  shudder  to  recall  that  year,  1968. Encompassing  does  he  did  the  assassinations of  Martin  Luther  King  and  Bobby  Kennedy, the  Russian  invasion  of  Czechoslovakia, and  the  fiasco  of the  Democratic  Convention  in  Chicago. There  were  race  riots  across many  American  cities  and there  were  student  protests  on campuses  around  the  Western  world  and beyond  against  the  Vietnam  War. Johnson's  Great  Society experiment  seemed  to  have failed  and  the  African-Americans who  had  been  its  intended  beneficiaries, appeared  at  best  on  appreciative, and  at  worst,  more  disaffected, alienated,  and  disillusioned and  disappointed  than  ever. The  Vietnam  was  a  disaster  for the  United  States  and  even  more so  for  Vietnam  itself. The  burden  had  been  born, the  price  had  been  paid, but  the  success  and  survival  of  liberty had  emphatically  not  been  assured. One  of  the  first  books  I  bought when  I  got  to  Princeton  was David  Halberstam  is  the best  and  the  brightest. And  it  remains  a devastatingly  cautionary  tale. Recruiting  academics from  Ivy  League  universities  to run  and  change  the  real-world is  not  always  a  good  idea. Especially  it  seems. They  come  from  Harvard  or  MIT. During  my  first  year  at  Princeton, one  of  their  ilk  WW,  Rostow, the  most  hawkish  of Johnson's  advisors  on  Vietnam, came  here  to  lecture. And  a  member  of  the  audience  made a  brief  and  dignified  speech, deploring  his  part  in  the  Vietnam  day  Barker, but  Rostow  was  unrepentant and  always  remain  so  it  would have  been  far  better  for  many  in  Vietnam  and America  if  only  he'd  stayed  at  MIT. Yet  amongst  all  this  discord  and disruption,  chaos  and  confusion, there  were  some  encouraging signs  of  progress, especially  in  the  realm  of  higher  education, where  things  did  begin  to change  and  for  the  better. By  the  1960s,  women  were organizing  and  feminism was  again  on  the  rise. And  this  helped  to  bring about  one  of  the  great  revolutions, not  just  of  the  20th  century, but  across  the  whole  of  human  history. Namely  the  opening  up  of elite  universities  in the  Western  world  to more  and  more  and  more  women. That  extraordinarily transformative  development  occurred suddenly  and  rapidly  during the  late  1960s  and  the  early  1970s. At  the  very  time  when  I  was studying  at  Cambridge,  Oxford,  and  Princeton, three  of  the  universities  that  were  the  most important  in  bringing about  those  pioneering  changes. At  just  that  time, Princeton  at  admitted  its  first  cohort  of female  undergraduates  in  the  autumn  of 1969,  as  had  Yale. Several  Cambridge  colleges  of which  mine  was  one, began  to  move  in  the  same  direction  and first  admitted  women  in  the  autumn  of  1972, just  a  few  months  after  I graduated  and  I  much regretted  it  hadn't  been  sooner. And  the  University  of  Oxford  followed suit  two  years  later  in  1974. My  first  fleeting  encounter  with the  consequences  of  these  developments came  when  here  in  Princeton, I  opened  the  door  to  Firestone  Library for  a  female  graduate  student  who  turned  in, enquired  whether  my  well  intended  action, the  GI  was  in  fact  a  male  chauvinist  pig. A  term  with  which  I  was then  wholly  unacquainted. I  should  add  that  she  subsequently  became an  exceptionally  distinguished  historian of  early  modern  and  modern  France. After  I  returned  from  Princeton  and  Oxford, I  became  a  fellow  successively  of two  Cambridge  colleges  where  co-residents, as  it  was  then  called, was  being  hotly  debated. The  right  decisions  were  eventually  taken. But  in  neither  case, with  a  very  contentious debates  on  the  subject, characterized  either by  intellectual  distinction or  by  oratorical  brilliance. I  have  e.g.  never  forgotten the  brief  remarks  made  by Warren  Senior  Fellow who  stood  up  at  a  governing, a  governing  body  meeting  and  offered the  following  brief  bewildering  comment. Master,  he  said,  I  have  supervised  my  men on  all  fours  With  Why Women  and  I  cannot  tell  the  difference. What  did  he  mean? And  what  had  he  been  doing? I  never  did  find  out. Truly  it  was  a  different  time. But  the  abiding  conclusion  that I  drew  from  these  debates  was, and  is  that  enabling and  empowering  more  women  to get  better  educated  and in  more  parts  of  the  world, must  rank  very  high  on  any  wish-list  of how  to  enhance  and  improve  human  welfare. Even  as  universities  were  under increasing  pressure  from sometimes  violent  protests, they  were  also  seething  with intellectual  excitement  with  rapidly expanding  student  enrollments  and a  corresponding  increase  in new  faculty  appointments. In  the  social  sciences, anthropology  and  sociology  were  all  the  rage. And  they  were  eagerly  embraced by  many  young  historians seeking  into interdisciplinary  contact  and  stimulation. There  was  a  cult  of  quantification  in deliberate  but  perhaps  ignorant  defiance  of Einstein's  observation  that  what  matters cannot  be  counted  and  what can  be  counted  does  not  matter. Einstein  knew  a  lot  about  matter. As  for  history,  there  was  more  of  it  about, and  it  was  being  done  in  more different  ways  than  ever  before. No  longer  confined  to political  and  constitutional  history, The  History  of  Religion, Diplomacy,  and  International  Relations. There  was  also  social  history, urban  history,  the  new economic  history,  cultural  history, the  history  of  the  family,  clear  metrics, historical  demography, and  the  history  of  mortality. The  history  of  many  parts  of the  world  beyond  Europe  and  North  America. Here  the  two  largely  neglected, we're  gradually  beginning  to attract  long  overdue  attention. Among  them  China,  Japan,  South  Asia, the  Middle  East,  Africa,  and  Latin  America. Somewhere  on  the  horizon  where the  first  intimations  of yet  more  new  approaches  to  the  past. Among  them,  women's  history, black  history,  and  the history  of  ethnicities. These  were  indeed  stirring  and  stimulating times  to  become  one  of  kleos  disciples. And  nowhere  more  so  than  here  at  Princeton. It  was  in  that  febrile and  fertile  academic  environment that  I've  been  lucky  enough  to  obtain my  first  real  history  job  back  in  Cambridge, where  I  set  about  establishing myself  during  the  second  half  of  the  1970s. I  did  the  usual  things. I  lectured  in  a  supervised  I  sat  on college  committees  and  I  undertook my  share  of  administrative  chores. I  completed,  as  David has  mentioned,  my  first  book, lords  and  landlords, a  friend  enquired  whether  I was  planning  a  sequel  entitled Ladies  and  land  ladies. That  that  has  never  appeared. I  edited,  in,  co-edited several  more  volumes  of  essays. I  published  scholarly  articles in  academic  journals, and  I  began  reviewing  for the  Times  Literary  Supplement, the  London  Review  of  Books, the  observer  and  the  Sunday  Times  in  London, and  later  for  the  New  York  Review  of  Books, The  New  Yorker  and  The  New  Republic. Here  in  the  United  States. It  was  a  busy  and  fulfilling  time. Cambridge  was  one  of the  few  British  universities that  operated  a  serious  tenure  policy. And  I  was  appointed  to  the  retiring  age when  still  relatively  young. Another  piece  of  great  good  fortune. As  a  result,  the  way  it was  open  for  me  to  enjoy just  the  sort  of  academic  careers  to Erik  Ashby  had  counseled  me  against. They  enter  that  if  I  wanted, I  could  stay  in  Cambridge  for  the  rest  of my  life  and  never  have  to  leave. But  I  had  taken  his  advice  to  heart and  I  was  beginning  to  get  restless. I  wanted  to  return  to  the  United  States, and  I  spent  my  first  sabbatical  in  1980  to 1981  back  here  in  Princeton. This  time  at the  Institute  for  Advanced  Study, where  I  worked  on  my  next  big  book, The  Decline  and  Fall  of the  British  aristocracy, which  appeared  at  the  end  of  the  decade. Once  again,  there  was an  almost  uninsurable  amount of  intellectual  stimulation  provided  by, among  others,  John  Eliot  and Robert  Darnton  in  early  modern  history. Albert  Hirschman  in  economics  and  much  else besides  Clifford  Geertz  in  anthropology, not  yet  historicize  in  his  life. Bernard  Bailyn  in  colonial American  history  and  Glenn  Bauer  sock in  ancient  history. Even  by  the  different  standards of  that  far  off  time, the  gender  balance,  to  put it  mildly,  wasn't  great. But  the  intellectual  heft  undoubtedly  was. We  met  periodically  to  discuss  matters  of mutual  interests  under  the  capaciousness, vague  heading  of  self-perception  in  the  past, which  meant  that  we  could  talk  about almost  anything  and  that  is  what  we  did. As  the  youngest  participant, I  was  asked  to  write summaries  of  the  meetings, which  I  tried  to  do  in a  different  format  every  time. Once  I  recall  as  a  short  play. Once  there's  a  brief  libretto, and  once  inverse. Perhaps  it's  just  as  well  that none  of  these  reports  seemed  to have  survived  for  the  sake of  the  institutes  reputation, no  less  than  for  my  own. Though  I  do  remember that  the  one  I  did  inverse began  with  the  following  in comparable  quatrain. It  isn't  often,  goodness  knows, we  feel  compelled  to  quit the  pros  with  which  we earn  our  daily  bread  and tape  to  poetry  instead. Bob  Janssen  observed  that  I  was very  good  at  writing  very  bad  verse. Then  back  to  Cambridge. But  in  1988  onto  Columbia, the  first  time  I'd  worked  in  a university-based  in  a  big  city. And  the  first  time  I  taught british  history  as  the  history of  a  foreign  country. I  love  being  in  New  York, lecture  too  large  undergraduate  audiences  and mentored  some  exceptionally able  graduate  students. My  book  on  the  British  aristocracy was  generally  well  received. I  continued  reviewing  widely. I  began  to  acquire  some  sort  of academic  and  public  reputation on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic. One  indication  of  which was  that  in  the  mid  1990s, I  was  contacted  by the  Andrew  Mellon  Foundation, then  led  by  Bill  Bowen, who  had  earlier  been a  transformative  president of  Princeton  University. When  I  first  came  here, I  received  a  phone  call  from  New  York, completely  out  of  the  blue when  I  was  back  in  Britain  one  summer, inviting  me  to  write the  life  of  Andrew  Mellon  himself. And  that  was  another  astonishing piece  of  good  luck. You  must  come  to  New  York right  away  to  discuss  this  matter. I  was  told  very  well, I  shamelessly  repaid,  but you  will  have  to  put  me  on  concord. They  Julie  did.  And  when  I  got  to the  British  Airways  terminal  at  JFK, one  of  their  employees  came  up  to  me  as  to the  other  people  who  had  arrived  on this  plane  and  inquired, is  your  private  jet  parks nearby  to  fly  you  onto  your  next  destination? Which  the  best  reply  I  could  muster  on the  spur  of  the  moment  was  not this  time  a  very  different  New  York  arrival from  that  which  I  had  made  in  September  1973. In  1998,  I  was  summoned back  from  New  York  to  the  United  Kingdom to  be  Director  of the  Institute  of  Historical  Research at  London  University. It  was  a  venerable  but  rather tired  organization. That  had  been  founded  just  after the  close  of  the  First  World  War  to train  a  new  generation of  history  graduate  students. And  it  had  a  marvelous  library of  primary  printed  sources. But  eat  badly  needed  reviving  and reinvigorating  and  preparing for  the  21st  century. I  shook  it  up  and  woke  it  up. I  restructured  the  administration. I  raised  its  public  profile. I  put  on  lots  of  conferences. I  kept  publishing  books including  the  life  of  Andrew  Mellon and  I  was  sometimes  invited  to appear  on  radio  and  television. I  also  discovered  that  I  was  good at  asking  people  for  money. While  at  the  IHR,  I  raised about  15  million  pounds petty  cash  by  American  standards, but  far  more  than  anyone  else  had  ever  raised there  before  or  indeed  since. After  five  years  as  director, I  upgraded  to  a  chair specially  created  for  me, which  was  jointly  funded  by the  Andrew  Mellon  Foundation  of  New  York  and the  limbic  trust  in  the  United  Kingdom with  the  gloriously  ornamental  title, as  David  has  mentioned, of  the  Queen  Elizabeth, the  Queen  Mother professor  of  British  history, which  necessitated  rather  larger business  cards  than  usual. The  queen  mother  having,  by  the  way, being  charged  with  University  of  London, where  the  Institute  of  Historical  Research was  and  is  located. There  were no  teaching  obligations  attached  to  this, but  I  was  expected  an  urge  to  engage and  put  myself  about  across  the  border, both  cultural  life  of  London  and  the  nation. As  director  of  the  IHR,  i'd, I'd  already  begun  to  do some  of  this  involving myself  with  the  National  Archives are  all  Historical  Society, the  British  Academy, the  history  of  Parliament, that  Kennedy  Memorial  Trust and  the  Wilson  Foundation. But  now  in  this  new and  a  grandchild  position, the  invitations  cascaded  it. And  I  soon  found  myself  acquiring an  extraordinary  array  of interlocking  cultural  positions  with, among  other  organizations, the  National  Trust, English  heritage, the  National  Portrait  Gallery, the  Royal  Mint,  the  Royal  Academy, Westminster  Abbey,  the  Bank  of  England, historic  royal  palaces, the  Imperial  War  Museum, and  the  Museum  of  London. Once  again,  I  was  extraordinarily lucky  because  the  rules governing  membership  of  such  boards  and committees  had  recently  been  changed. Restricting  appointments  to  two  fixed  terms, which  finally  stopped the  aristocracy  and  gentry  from holding  such  post  for life  as  many  of  them  had  previously  done. Which  opened  up  many  organizations to  a  wider  range  of potential  trustees  than  either to  myself,  included  e.g. when  I  was  being  considered  for membership  of  the  Royal Mint  Advisory  Committee, I  was  told  that  in  earlier  times it  had  been  very  grand, chaired  by  the  Duke  of  Edinburgh  and  with such  illustrious  members as  Sir  Kenneth  Clark. But  I  was  further  informed. It's  recently  gone so  downmarket  sociologically, even  you  might  stand  a  chance  of  getting on,  which  I  do  need  it. I  also  ventured  tentatively  into the  world  of  politics  and  public  affairs, which  was  certainly  as  far as  I  ever  wanted  to  go. In  2007,  I  was  invited  by Prime  Minister  Gordon  Brown to  join  a  committee  to investigate  the  arrangements  whereby official  records  were  embargoed  in the  National  Archives  for  30  years before  being  made  publicly  available. The  other  members,  where  the  editor  of a  national  newspaper  and  a retired  senior  civil  servants. We  concluded  the  restrictions should  be  reduced  from  30  years  to  20. I  wrote  the  final  report, but  not  inverse  or  as  a  libretto. And  our  recommendations  were  accepted. Less  successful  was the  research  project  I  led, funded  by  the  Lindbergh  trust, which  investigated  the  teaching  of  history  in English  schools  across  the  20th  century, in  which  urged  the  evidence  was  overwhelming. The  only  way  peoples  would  learn, pupils  would  learn  more  history  was  if more  classroom  time  was allocated  to  teaching  it. The  government  took  absolutely  no  notice. More  recently, I  sat  on  a  committee  convened  by the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury suggestively  code named  Operation  golden  orb  to  revise, revise  the  text,  and  reduce  the  length  of the  coronation  service  from  the  long 4  h  that  had  locked  that it  had  lost  it  in  1953. And  then  anticipation  of what's  coming  very  soon. At  my  first  meeting  of  this  committee, I  pointed  out  that  orbs  and sectors  were  not  only  symbols  of  sovereignty, but  we're  also  phallic  objects  and expressions  of  male  potency. Language  not  often  heard, I  think  within  the  sacred  and  hollow  walls of  Lambeth  Palace. Things  then,  however,  did  settle  down  with Julie  produced  an  abridged  ceremony. And  it  will  be  interesting  to see  on  the  6th  of  May how  much  of  our  work  was  eventually  accepted. In  the  midst  of this  extra  curricular  activity, had  come  the  joyous  news that  I've  been  invited  to join  the  Princeton  History Department  in  2008. An  invitation  I gratefully  and  gladly  accepted, since  Lawrence  Stone  had originally  but  vainly hatched  a  scheme  to  get  me here  in  the  early  1980s. It  was  certainly  the  case, as  I  mentioned  at my  first  departmental  meeting, that  no  one  could  accuse  any  of us  of  having  rushed  our  fences. The  department  I  joined was  in  some  ways  very  different from  that  I  had  first encountered  in  the  autumn  of  1973, when  older  than  professors  have  been  men  with one  conspicuous  and  notable  exception. Nowadays,  the  department  is  much  more diverse  in  terms  of  gender  and ethnicity  and  also  in  methodology, geography,  and  chronological  range. But  it  remains  an  exceptionally stimulating  and  distinguished  place to  be  lucky  enough to  have  been  constantly changing  and  evolving  in  recent  times, global  history  and  environmental  history  and added  new  and  important perspectives  on  the  past. Where  either  continuing  IT  revolution now  makes  it  possible  to  access archives  around  the  world  and  to search  sources  and  manipulate data  in  ways  undreamed of  just  a  few  years  ago. These  are  important and  exciting  developments  and there  will  surely  be  more  to come  and  to  look  forward  to. But  as  any  historian  knows, predicting  the  future  is at  best  a  hazardous  enterprise. When  I  graduated  from  Cambridge  in  1972, few  people,  if  any, foresaw  the  end  of  apartheid  in  South  Africa, the  fall  of  the  Berlin  Wall, the  disintegration  of  the  Soviet  Union, the  gay  rights  movement, the  legalization  of  same-sex  marriage, or  the  impending  IT revolution,  let  alone  911. The  rise  of  China, the  wars,  the  wars  in  the  Balkans, in  Iraq  and  Afghanistan, and  now  in  Ukraine. The  world  we  inhabit  today  is  in  many  ways very  different  from  that  in  which  I  grew  up. And  by  the  second  half  of  the  21st  century, the  world  will  no  doubt be  very  different  again, for  those  who  graduate  from  Princeton this  year  compared  to  how  it  is  for  them. Now,  as Arthur  Schlesinger  junior  once  remarked, the  future  confounds  all  our  certitude. It's  another  profound  observation and  a  reminder  that  history does  teach  and  Canon still  some  form  of  wisdom. In  a  few  months  time.  In  September  2023, it  will  be  exactly  50  years. Since  I  first  set  foot  in  Princeton. Under  the  initially  in all  suspicious  circumstances  I have  already  described. It  will  be  a  golden  jubilee  of  sorts  and  no doubt  an  invitation  to  further  retrospection. But  as  I  have  already  begun  to  look back  for  this  valedictorian, I  realize  that  across  half  a  century, I  have  enjoyed  the  extraordinary  privilege. I've  haven't  been  gainfully employed  and  generously remunerated  by  some  of the  great  universities  on both  sides  of  the  Atlantic. They  have  hired  me  and  paid me  for  no  other  reason  than to  allow  me  to indulge  my  intellectual  curiosity. To  read  and  research, and  think  and  write  and  publish, to  encounter  successive  generations  of bright  and  clever  undergraduates  to work  with  many  graduate  students  of great  promise  and  distinction, to  enjoy  the  companionship  and stimulation  of exceptionally  brilliant  colleagues and  to  play  a  small  but  satisfying  part  in the  public  and  cultural  life  of the  United  Kingdom  and  the  United  States. How  bad  can  that  have? B,  as  I  contemplate  what  I  recognize, there's  been  a  life  of  astonishing  good  luck and  have  exceptional  good  fortune. This  is  surely  the  occasion  to recognize  and  proclaim  that the  greatest  good  luck  and good  fortune  of  all happens  to  be  sitting  over  there, Professor  David  Linda,  Colleen. I  haven't  finished  yet. I  thought  the  applause  for  Linda  was even  more  overwhelming  than it  might  have  been. I  have  another  paragraph. In  more  sense  is  the  one my  time  will  very  soon  beyond. And  I  conclude  as promised  with  a  final  quotation. There  are  some  words  from the  early  Victorian  period  and  appropriately, so  since  that  was  when and  where  I  started  out  as a  historian  and  began my  own  academic  research. And  they  were  written  by  one  of the  towering  cultural  figures of  the  British  19th  century. The  author  was  young and  vigorous  when  he  penned  them. But  as  he  reached  the  end  of  his  poet, he  depicted  its  central  character. Approaching  what  might  soon  be  old  age. He  acknowledged  the  recession  rules  and the  infirmities  that  might  yet  be  to  come. But  he  also  expressed his  determination  to  meet  them  and  to face  them  down  with  defiance and  resolution,  optimism,  and  hope. There's  looking  forward. I  am  no  less  determined  to  do  myself. It  is,  of  course,  Alfred  Lord  Tennyson. And  it  is,  of  course, the  closing  lines  from  Ulysses. And  I  take  these  unforgettable  and  in comparable  words  and  briefly  make  them  Miao. As  with  heartfelt  gratitude and  the  greatest  of  goodwill, I  relinquish  the  Dodge  Professorship  of history  here  in  Princeton  University. So  here  goes,  though much  is  taken,  much  abides. And  though  we  are  not  now,  that  strength, which  in  old  days  moved  earth  and  heaven, that  which  we  are, we  are  one  equal  temper  of  heroic  hearts, made  weak  by  time  and  fate, but  strong  in  will  to  strive, to  seek  to  find  and  not  to  yield. Thank  you.