“No narrative history of Britain in this half-century is complete without considering the history of maritime London,” Margarette Lincoln concludes in her closing sentence (258). The preceding pages bear this out in vivid prose outlining the many ways in which the key events of 1760–1815 have shaped and been shaped by London's river parishes.
The “maritime world” of the title consists of the communities of Wapping, Shadwell, Ratcliff, and Limehouse to the north of the Thames and Southwark, Bermondsey, Rotherhithe, Deptford, and Greenwich to the south. By drawing boundaries that center around the Thames River, Lincoln has effectively produced a sort of fluvial history, following, in some degree, “the new thalassology” trend of the past two decades (see Edward Peters, “Quid nobis cum pelago? The New Thalassology and the Economic History of Europe,” Journal of Interdisciplinary History 34, no. 1 [Summer 2003]: 49–61). Trading in War demonstrates the myriad ways in which the economic, social, legal, and political life of the metropolis centered on the Thames.
As a general history for a popular audience, Trading in War is amply satisfying. As an academic history published by Yale University Press, it is considerably less so. The primary research is rich and well documented, but the text of the chapters contain no explicit mention of past historians’ work, and even the endnotes do not always refer to relevant scholarship. To give just one illustrative example: Lincoln's extensive discussion (227–34) of the criminalization of dockworkers’ perquisites (spear-headed by Patrick Colquhoun and resulting in a wage-reliant—and more compliant—workforce) does not refer to Peter Linebaugh's extensive treatment on the subject in The London Hanged (1991). The discussion of impressment (83–87) is not framed in relation to J. Ross Dancy's argument in The Myth of the Press Gang (2015) that past histories greatly exaggerate the role played by this form of recruitment. Since Lincoln avoids mentioning any historiographical debates throughout the book, it is unsurprising that her own argument and analysis are hidden beneath the narrative.
This weakness is not an indication of Lincoln's lack of knowledge of relevant scholarship. She is clearly aware of Linebaugh and Dancy's work and has read very widely well beyond maritime history. Moreover, Lincoln is adept at synthesizing complex topics into their essential elements. Trading in War contains concise, clear introductions to such things as the Whig and Tory platforms, flaws in the electoral system, the structure of the criminal courts, the annual rhythms of global shipping, and the methods by which ships were unloaded in the Thames. These and other explanations, relayed in engaging prose, contextualize her point that this period saw pride in the Navy become a key feature of British identity. She also contends that the men and women who supported the shipping industry were both acted upon and affected Britain's ability to wage and recover from war with its thirteen colonies and with France.
Lincoln follows a thematic organization, beginning with chapters describing the geography and global character of the area. She goes on to explore maritime-related criminality, commerce, and leisure. Interspersed among these chapters is one focused the impact on London's ports of the American Revolutionary war, and another on the effect of the wars with France that followed soon after. Lincoln also included a chapter called “Spirited Women,” and women are also present throughout the book. Trading in War recognizes the role of a diverse cast of characters at all levels of society, both male and female, rich and poor, from white Europeans to lascars and slaves.
Indeed, the book's richness is in the relationships unearthed between the many actors within this varied group. Lincoln has deftly reconstructed their stories through a variety of primary sources. Using everything from tax records to personal correspondence, she effectively outlines the intricate human interactions in London's river parishes. Contrary to the approach of historians, such as Linebaugh, who focus on class oppression, Lincoln's history contains no villains or heroes. Instead, she portrays her subjects with great sensitivity and insight that reveal her acute historical imagination.
By showing the complexity of each historical actor, Lincoln subtly observes that no story is as simple as oppressor versus oppressed. Patrick Colquhoun is portrayed as “well-intentioned” (231), and Captain Bligh is recognized as an expert seaman who managed a lengthy sea voyage in a small open craft after the mutiny. Captain Cook's wife is given as much attention as is the adventurer himself. Wed to a man with insatiable enthusiasm for long voyages into the unknown, Elizabeth Cook bore multiple pregnancies and household management largely on her own. Her worst fears were confirmed by Cook's death when Hawaiian Islanders killed him in 1779 and she spent a lengthy widowhood protecting his memory. Other hidden figures are given similar insightful treatment. Smugglers carried out their crimes until the reduction of taxes made the illegal importation of certain commodities less profitable. Members of the abolitionist movement profited alongside slave traders in the great redesign of the London docks, though it reduced the conditions and autonomy of dockside labor. In Lincoln's reconstructed world, these complicated individuals and their associates attended sermons, shopped, enjoyed theatre and fairs, and anxiously awaited the arrival of ships laden with the riches of a growing empire.
Lincoln's acknowledgments indicate that the research included “long walks in search of Thames wharves and slipways” (x). This has made Trading in War unique as an eye-level exploration of the metropolis along both coasts of the river. Lincoln's observation of the mass of people, industries, churches, dockyards, and innovations that were concentrated in this distinct part of the globe demonstrates the significance of London's riverside parishes to the broader history of war and society in this period.