Chapter 10 As the French Revolution became increasingly violent, there was an growing backlash in Britain against the celebration of liberty as independence. One response, popular among a number of conservative churchman, took the form of reviving the claim that all subjects have a duty of non-resistance and passive obedience. But a different although no less hostile response came from a number of self-styled ‘liberal’ legal and political writers who saw themselves as equally opposed to conservatives and revolutionaries. This group has been little studied, but the aim of this chapter is to show that they were of central importance in discrediting the ideal of liberty as independence. They accepted the Hobbesian view that most of our natural rights must be given up in the name of peace, and that the rights remaining to us as subjects of states must basically take the form of the silence of the law. Although the ideal of liberty as independence continued to be celebrated by early British socialists, the liberal writers paved the way for the explicitly Hobbesian commitments of the early utilitarians, who finally succeeded in turning the claim that liberty cannot mean anything other than exemption from restraint into a new orthodoxy.

Conclusion: a reckoning. Liberty used to be defined as absence of dependence. Nowadays it is usually defined as absence of restraint. But the underlying aim of this book has been to establish that there are several reasons for thinking that the ideal of liberty as independence is to be preferred. We gain from it a better sense of how the mere fact of living in subjection -- whether or not we are restrained -- takes away our liberty. We also gain from it a more helpful way of thinking about fundamental rights. Rather than conceiving of them as universal moral claims, there may be good reasons for preferring to think of them as the creation of specific independent communities. Above all, the ideal of liberty as independence helps us to see the importance of cherishing the value of autonomy in relationships between states as well as individual citizens. It is difficult to see how the requirements of justice can be met in the absence of a commitment to the ideal of liberty as independence.

INTRODUCTION. When and why did it come about that one prevailing way of understanding what it means to be free was replaced by a strongly contrasting account that came to be no less widely accepted, and still remains dominant? The argument of the book is that, in Anglophone political theory, the change happened quite suddenly in the closing decades of the eighteenth century. Before that time it was generally agreed that what it means to be free is that you are not subject to, or dependent on, the arbitrary will and power of anyone else. Liberty was equated with independence. But by the early nineteenth century it had come to be generally accepted that liberty simply consists in not being restrained from acting as you choose. What prompted the change, the book argues, was not the imperatives of commercial society, as has often been argued. Rather it was a growing anxiety, in the face of the American and French Revolutions, about the democratic potential of the ideal of liberty as independence.

“Of the Populousness of Ancient Nations” is by far the longest of Hume’s essays. Although it does not always receive the attention it merits, it is a very important text not only in relation to Hume’s political thought as a whole but also for a full understanding of the intellectual history of the long eighteenth century as it partook in a set of wide-ranging conversations about the causes of demographic growth in which T. R. Malthus, amongst others, became engaged. This chapter first revisits Montesquieu’s position on the issue of the relative populousness of ancient and modern nations to show not only the true nature of the Frenchman’s views and that of the dispute between him and Hume but also the extent to which Hume’s reading of Montesquieu provided the basis for the Scot’s reflections on republics, liberty, the status of women and slavery in that essay and elsewhere. It underscores the centrality of demography to political debates of the period.

The chapter recalls and summarizes the principal arguments made in the book.

By the end of the eighteenth century the plural language of liberty was under widespread attack, denounced by radicals as a denial of innate human rights and a tool of monarchical despotism. This evolution was partly powered by the consolidation of nation-states that picked up speed in the sixteenth century, but this centralization was long incomplete. In this situation the terms “liberties” and “privileges” were almost universally regarded as equivalents, even by so radical a movement as the English Levellers of the seventeenth century. The dissolution of this equivalence took place in France, first as the monarchy’s political and fiscal shenanigans sapped people’s faith in the system, and then as the Revolution mounted a full-scale attack on privilege as a source of inequality and despotism. Supporters of the Revolution followed its lead, but the old language still played a role in Britain and Germany, a reminder that the old language, even with its equivalence of liberties and privileges, long persisted in fostering self-government and resisting oppression.

Marx summed up Europe’s many impacts on world history as showing “what human activity can bring about” – namely, the capacity to undo and remake the human world. Although we have become increasingly aware of the negative side of this release of human energies, in war, ecological destruction, and imperial domination, the positive one survives in the closer contact between peoples, modern industry’s potential to reduce poverty, and the expansion of practical knowledge and scientific understanding. Remaking the World argues that what put Europe at the center of these changes was first the division and fragmentation that persisted through much of its history and then the emergence of spheres of activity that were autonomous in the sense of regulating themselves by principles derived from the activities carried on within them, as opposed to “teleocratic” domains governed by norms that were generated outside themselves. Unlike other attempts to grasp European distinctiveness which focus chiefly on economics and industry, it gives equal attention to culture, science, and the politics of liberty, and makes comparisons based on substantial discussions of counterparts to these developments elsewhere.

Although no comparable preoccupation with freedom developed in any other part of the world, each region had its own experiences of it. This was true of Africa, but the difficult conditions of survival promoted a reliance on other values, such as courage, honor, and loyalty. The widespread presence of slavery, only rarely as harsh as in the West, and sometimes entered into voluntarily to ward off some crisis, impeded the diffusion of liberty as a value for society as a whole. Islamic society was pervaded by an egalitarian spirit based on the universal submission of everyone to God, but political rule was absolute once established, and only justice, not liberty, set limits to what rulers could do. Formally an empire, Mughal India displayed many forms of local independence, but those who exercised local authority regarded themselves as channels of sovereign power rather than as barriers to it. In China imperial authority was formally absolute but in practice people enjoyed much freedom of action, even against state officials. As in India, however, these limits on imperial authority were not conceived as liberties, chiefly because the state was regarded as essential to providing the moral order on which stable civilized life depended.

Although liberty has been valued in various ways in many times and places, only in Europe did it become a central preoccupation before the nineteenth century, and a subject of widespread public reflection. Appeals to liberty and concerns about it found expression in two idioms: a singular one that harked back to Rome and Greece, and regarded liberty as universal or innate; and a plural one associated with the overlapping jurisdictions of ‘feudal’ society that saw liberty as an assemblage of separate rights or privileges (often taken as synonyms), attributed sometimes to custom and sometimes to higher authorities that granted them. Although distinct, the two languages were seldom seen as in tension before the eighteenth century. The chapter examines their relations in different contexts and concludes by noting that the very pervasiveness of claims to enjoy, embody, or represent liberty led to a recognition of how easily invocations of it could become rhetorical tools to justify control over others, leading to Machiavelli’s incisive reflections on the dialectical relations between liberty and domination.

This chapter proposes an alternative to the more economically driven historiography on French Enlightenment rights talk, by highlighting the role of philosophers, most notably Locke and Rousseau. It was their insistence on the inalienability of liberty that defined the philosophical discourse of rights in the eighteenth century. Locke repudiated the standard argument by natural lawyers (from Grotius to Pufendorf) that we could alienate our freedom, either by selling ourselves into slavery or subjecting ourselves to an absolutist sovereign. In both of these cases, we violate our right to self-preservation, which as a dictate of natural law is sacrosanct. Montesquieu similarly rejected Roman arguments for slavery in the name of self-preservation. And Rousseau insisted on the inalienability of liberty, through an operation (the social contract) that transforms natural liberty into political freedom. These arguments, too, informed the revolutionary understanding of human rights.

This chapter provides an overview of this book’s core arguments and structure.

Chapter 2 argues that syncretism, a form of eclectic union, is temporal as well as spatial. As a temporal form, syncretism consolidates historical events, daily individual experiences, and social practices onto a shared plane. This chapter analyzes syncretism in Risorgimento Florence, examining how the city adapts to serve modern Italy while maintaining its historical significance. I read Florence through the travel narratives of Susan Horner, two guidebooks (Walks in Florence, which Horner coauthored with her sister Joanna; and Mornings in Florence by John Ruskin), and a forgotten novel (Isolina, which I attribute to Susan Horner). Across these genres, syncretism emerges as a temporal form capable of defining liberty democratically so that Florence potentially serves as a model of egalitarianism internationally in response to nineteenth-century revolutions and wars.

Part I centers Italy in British heritage discourse, showing how nineteenth-century writers used Italy (especially Pompeii, Rome, and Florence) to redefine their own historical and political identities. Amid political resurgence and ongoing unification efforts, the long tradition in British writing of depicting Italy as culturally and politically dead faltered. In response to the Risorgimento, British writers deployed fractal and syncretism – two temporal forms that afford nonlinear historicisms. Rather than the timelines that locate Italy in a distant past, fractal and syncretism connect past and present. One result is a redefined political liberty that can transcend national, gender, class, and race boundaries, as I explore through forgotten transnational figures including the writer Susan Horner and the abolitionist Sarah Parker Remond.

This chapter examines the action of breach of promise of marriage to show its relationships with deception. It outlines how a broken promise of marriage, which could always imply deception regarding intention to keep the promise, attracted damages and highlights how known deception constituted an aggravation. The chapter also demonstrates how deception about certain features of oneself or one’s circumstances could justify a fiancé(e)’s decision to break a promise of marriage. Beyond these points, the chapter shows how conventions about relationships shaped the processes by which promises of marriage could be inferred or imputed, and it explores the links between actions of breach of promise of marriage and changing expectations of marriage, including the expectation that it should be based on real love. Through this process, the chapter offers an original argument about the decline of breach of promise at marriage which reveals its changing relationship to deception. The chapter concludes with some reflections on what actions of breach of promise suggest about the capacity of law to regulate promises and statements of future intention, as they relate to intimacy, in a contemporary context.