Gerald Stourzh is the doyen of Austrian historians and a grand seigneur among Austrian intellectuals, deeply committed to the cause of cosmopolitan humanist scholarship with a decidedly English flair, fully embodying in deed what he espouses in word. Moreover, his outstanding studies in American history (especially, but not exclusively, of the eighteenth century) as well as his contributions to Austrian constitutional history, well attested to here, have warranted recognition on both sides of the Atlantic. In an age of increasing specialization it is more than refreshing to be reminded that commitment to the highest standards of scholarship does not imply bogging oneself down in minutiae. Thus it is little wonder that this erudite and eloquent anthology of fourteen essays with an epilogue, collected under three rubrics (Anglo-American History, Austrian History—Imperial and Republican, and The Tocquevillian Moment: From Hierarchical Status to Equal Right), prefaced by an essay in intellectual autobiography whose theme is reflected in the book's title, should have two forewords: one by Bernard Bailyn, a grand-old-man among U.S. historians and the other by the editor of the Journal of Modern History, John Boyer, distinguished professor of Austrian history at Professor Stourzh's alma mater the University of Chicago. The chapter titles of the essays, originally written between 1953 and 2006, present a clear picture of Stourzh's preoccupations: “Reason and Power in Benjamin Franklin's Political Thought,” “William Blackstone: Teacher of Revolution,” “Constitution: Changing Meanings of the Term from the Early Seventeenth to the Late Eighteenth Century,” “Charles A. Beard's Interpretations of American Foreign Policy,” “The Multinational Empire Revisited: Reflections on Late Imperial Austria,” “Ethnic Attribution in Late Imperial Austria: Good Intentions, Evil Consequences,” “The National Compromise in the Bukowina,” “Max Diamant and Jewish Diaspora Nationalism,” “The Age of Emancipation and Assimilation: Liberalism and Its Heritage,” “An Apogee of Conversions: Gustav Mahler, Karl Kraus, and fin de siècle Vienna,” “The Origins of Austrian Neutrality,” “Equal Rights: Equalizing the Individual's Status and the Breakthrough of the Modern Liberal State,” “Liberal Democracy as a Culture of Rights: England, the United States, and Continental Europe,” and “Tocqueville's Understanding of ‘Conditions of Equality’ and ‘Conditions of Inequality.’” The book also contains an epilogue, however, which is definitely more than an afterthought, under the rubric On the Human Condition, bearing the title “The Unforgivable Sin: An Interpretation of Albert Camus' The Fall”; for the unforgivable sin turns out to be pride, which, as readers will have already discovered in the opening essay, Benjamin Franklin considered the source of all evil in human affairs. The epilogue also serves to remind us that Stourzh does not think that history has the last word in explaining the fate of humanity: that is reserved for literature. Clearly the range of Stourzh's vision is as broad as it is penetrating; his message is as important as it is learned.

History in the grand tradition has sometimes been described as philosophy teaching by example. This seems to be a more than adequate description of what Stourzh understands by intellectual history. Eschewing ideologies, perhaps even to the point of giving short shrift to philosophy itself, Stourzh is almost obsessed with the origins and, above all, the institutionalization of the constitutional state as well as vigorously defending constitutionalism in late Habsburg history (during the Cold War this was to insist that Austria belonged to the west). He wants to demonstrate the life of liberal ideas in the course of their institutionalization. At the same time he deftly illustrates the aspirations, frustrations, and dilemmas of kindred spirits such as Franklin, Tocqueville, Charles Beard, Max Diamant, and even Albert Camus when confronting the formidable task of pursuing politics as a rational project. The ironies involved in an American revolutionary's belief in monarchy (Franklin), the radical implications of a British conservative constitutional scholar (Blackstone), and the political voluntarism of an economic determinist (Beard) are central to the perspective that Stourzh brings to his subject. His concern for the plight of the Jews as the main victims of Austrian illiberalism as well as the question of Jewish identity in the Monarchy is noteworthy throughout his discussions of Austria, especially in connection with Max Diamant and diaspora nationalism in the Bukowina and, of course, in connection with Mahler and Kraus. In all of this there is a hint of learned nostalgia (as opposed to mere sentimentality) that Stourzh does not pretend to hide. It is important for him that his readers take the issues he discusses as personally as he does.

The fact that some of these essays were written half a century ago is occasionally indicated by tone and emphasis more than by anachronism. In fact they are amazingly fresh—something that is surely attributable both to the author's erudition and his enthusiasm for the subjects he treats. Despite Stourzh's perfect command of English, there are a few small errors. On p. 208 he writes “necrology” where the sense demands “obituary,” and in his discussion of equality (p. 293), he mentions Jews, serfs, slaves, women, and comedians, the latter being surely a literal translation for the French comédien (i.e., actor). A more serious, if equally incidental, error is found on p. 144 where Stourzh declares that “the Hapsburg Monarchy in the last half century of its existence affords the only example of a territorial unit where . . . there is a glaring . . . incongruity between the unit covered by diplomatic history and the unit covered by the history of domestic developments.” This was exactly the state of affairs from 1814 to 1905 in Scandinavia, however, when Norway was united with Sweden in a personal union under the Swedish monarch. Moreover, there are definite limitations of perspective in these otherwise admirable studies: social history scarcely enters the pictures he paints—something regrettably typical of Austrian historiography—whereas cultural history is simply dismissed as an oddity.

Be that as it may, there is more than enough substance here to recommend From Vienna to Chicago and Back to both students and professors of history, academics, and interested laymen alike.