But despite their surprise at Britain’s transformed role, Travers emphasises how the Britons who first thought about sovereignty in India drew largely from intellectual resources which existed in their own past. As he shows, a generation of British officials from Robert Clive to Warren Hastings walked backwards into their colonial future, trying to paper over the fissures and ruptures that separated them from the Indian or British pasts by talking about India’s ancient constitutions and customary rights. Travers has no doubt the British were doing something different in late eighteenth-century India. There was, he says, ‘a clash of different political cultures in Bengal’, even if those cultures were always ‘dynamic and internally contested’. ‘Clearly’, he says, ‘the contested history of the ancient Mughal constitution cannot be used to support a theory of continiuity at the level of political discourse’ (p. 250). But, as Travers notes, the fact that Britons described their actions as if they accorded with the political traditions of India’s past ‘blurs the edges between the categories of “British” and “indigenous” politics in the eighteenthcentury’.
To be a British gentleman in the eighteenthcentury was to possess a certain standard of bearing and knowledge about the world. A number of elites attempted to set down their thoughts on the qualities needed to be a part of upper class society, among them Lord Chesterfield. “Chesterfield's formula was simple: a familiarity with the ancient authors and the inculcation of grace, propriety and moderation learned there, made for a classical gravitas which would then be softened by an easy elegance, charm and gentility best learned on the continent and especially from the French.” 76 A classical education alone was not enough to create a gentleman; affability, refinement and a discerning eye were central to the idea of appropriate masculinity. Elite men were lauded for their interest in observing and collecting the world around them. The dilettanti sought art and antiques and desired to be seen as “arbiters of taste and culture in their native country” 77 A virtuoso added to this an interest in natural history, and might spend the Grand Tour looking for mineral samples, as did James Smithson. The rediscovery of Herculaneum and Pompeii spurred further interest in the classical, and both sites became staples of the Tour. At home, men like William Stukeley hoped to redirect this interest away from Italy, reminding the aristocracy that ancient Rome
Edwards argued that regions more distant from ―the chief seat of Antichrist‖ in Rome held out the longest. In his view, the majority of Christians ―in England and Scotland and France‖ most notably ―retained the ancient purity of doctrine and worship.‖ Second, he believed that through this entire period there always were individual, scattered voices raised in opposition to Roman authority and religion. The theological importance of their continual presence constituting a ‗true‘ church was critical for Edwards: they appeared ―in every age of this dark time‖; ―no one age of Antichrist‖ was exempt; God kept ―an uninterrupted succession of witnesses through the whole time.‖ Twice in this section Edwards declared that historians had identified these individuals, but he named none himself. Again the impression is one of a familiar Protestant historiography, perhaps an enduring reverence for popular works such as the martyrologies of Foxe in the sixteenth century and Clarke in the next. It sufficed for Edwards to observe that these witnesses included ―private persons,‖ ministers, rulers, and others ―of great distinction,‖ and that ―in every age‖ they were persecuted and martyred. 71
the sexual parallels and connotations he drew previously: “All the merry effects that I ascribed to [ginseng], or like King Charles might have hoped to find, are purely peculiar. It is certainly very cordial, & recruits the spirits exceedingly, without letting them sink low again. It sensibly warms the blood, maintains the natural heat, and feeds the flame of life impaired either by age or by straining our faculties too much.” 235 It is also good against “all vapours and melancholy inspiring joy and good humour”; it works against “all the diseases of the head, and [enlivens] all the senses”; it is “friendly to the lungs and comfortable to the stomach.” In short, as Byrd writes to Peter Collinson, upon taking a course of ginseng “you will find your youth restored as if you had been boil’d in Medusa’s chaldron.” 236 Curiously enough, especially considering Byrd’s previous intellectual history, the one function of the body on which ginseng now seems to have no appreciable effect is sexual. It performs all its curative feats “with out any of those naughty effects that might make men too troublesome and impertinent to their poor wives.” And Byrd was able to make such statements “by [his] own experience.” 237 He was sixty- four years of age at the time of writing.
Britain’s major port cities dwelled men who had been swept into a maritime life for a variety of reasons and from a wide spectrum o f backgrounds. Britain’s role as primary seafaring trader in the eighteenthcentury meant that men from at least five of the seven continents lived and worked among her dockside communities. The crews of slave ships inevitably reflected this gathering of people from around the world, so while African seamen remained relatively unusual, they were only a section of a multiracial body o f seamen by the later eighteenthcentury. If the slave trade was entered into only by the most lowly and desperate o f seamen, the acute xenophobia of most o f British society meant that this included those of non-British origin who searched for employment among Liverpool’s wharves. To take one example, the crew of the slaver John included John Prussel from Jamaica; Joseph Rodrigues from the West Indies; Joseph Galley from Leghorn [Livorno]; Mich Gray from the Gambia; Barry Boilers from Norway; Golperce Charles from Copenhagen; Sven Nelson from Sweden; John Salvadore from Naples; Antonio Rodrique from Portugal; John Swift from Salem, Massachusetts; Edward Kitchen from Jersey and John Brown from New York. These men sailed with the ship to an unspecified African embarkation point, delivered two hundred and eighty slaves to Kingston, Jamaica, and then sailed back to Liverpool.^^
Hutcheson’s epistemology in relation to this matter, which issue from the framework of the epistemological logics of the seventeenth and eighteenthcentury. In the Inquiry and the Essay/Illustrations Hutcheson made frequent implicit reference to the judging capacity of the moral sense in his use of the terms approbation and condemnation, the approver, approved and so on. The rhetorical tension between Hutcheson’s characterisation of our moral responses as a sense – that is a delivery system for the basic idea of something ‒ and the ability of those same ideas to offer a moral judgment, was present from the first. Hutcheson’s great task was to explain not only how we receive moral ideas, but also how the experience of moral evaluation might constitute a moral judgment. Hutcheson’s later published works, his System and Short Introduction, were manifestly preoccupied with this question, but if there is a suggestion that this tension does not arise before Hutcheson made an overt attempt to integrate his ideas from moral sense within the framework of natural law, then I do not believe this to have been the case. I maintain that Hutcheson was thinking about
deploys vocal glissandi in a sound-world based on dissonant harmonies. In Suantraí Ghráinne, written for the Lindsay Singers in 1983, Rhona Clarke (b1958) foreshadows what will grow into the mature voice that characterises the choral output upon which her reputation primarily rests. These features include a gentle rhythmic complexity, changing meters, and a sensitive facility in the setting of Irish texts. The main thrust of Seán Ó Riada’s immense importance to the history of music in Ireland lies outside what he wrote for choirs, yet his two settings for unison choir and organ of the mass ordinary in Irish, Ceol an aifreann (1968) and Aifreann 2 (1970), belong in any discussion of the transition away from the ‘celtic twilight’, irrespective of his use of traditional song. John O’Keefe calls this ‘vernacular church music’ in that it emanates from a ‘living oral culture of native traditional song; as part of a historical continuum of monophonic liturgical composition for the Roman rite.’ 111
At the core of his training, Coates learned to communicate with scores of city producers, retailers, creditors, and debtors, across all occupations and classes. But like so many other city merchants, he also created hefty piles of correspondence with merchants throughout the British and French Caribbean, London, Londonderry, Antwerp, Ca´diz, Bremen, Nantes, and beyond, each letter displaying his skills in long-distance business knowl- edge. His letters are of the sort that historians use regularly to trace the networks of trans-Atlantic commerce and elite personal relationships stretching across empires in the most pragmatic ways. But equally impor- tant, near these piles of letters was a long shelf of account books carefully documenting years of local and long-distance trade in double-entry book- keeping, as well as waste books containing jottings about Coates’s daily business, day journals that recorded transactions in the partners’ story, household accounts, rent ledgers, and more. Each of these modes of accounting mingled the relationships of distant and nearby trading people, and so did the piles of official port clearances, bills of lading, auction adver- tisements, lists of prices current from ports all over Europe, and insurance papers. Moreover, in local affairs Coates generated piles of paper and receipt books that showed initial orders for goods, delivery confirmations, eventual payments to artisans, and entries in merchants’ receipt books, daybooks, and ledgers. He also managed the strongbox that held a dozen or so bills of exchange, insurance policies for voyages not yet completed, and an assort- ment of foreign coins, as well as the dense piles of paper scraps representing the ties of mutual reliance and accountability with scores of local Philadel- phians who were vital for outfitting ships. The sheer variety, not to mention the stifling quantity, of petty orders and communications far exceeded the daily duties of apprentice hostmen such as Coates’s distant contemporary Ralph Jackson. Nevertheless, each man shouldered responsibility for coordi- nating local business affairs that could go awry at any time. 17
feminine trait, was viewed as something that undermined “the masculine qualities of virtus.” 84 It was also believed that “luxury operated in a world governed…by passion.” 85 Luxury was the imagination set loose. As women were thought to be highly imaginative and governed entirely by their passions, and not by reason, they became synonymous with luxury. Women were also seen as the consumers who created the demand for luxury. 86 Women’s bodies, through clothing, jewelry, and other aspects of appearance, were often used as a canvas to display the wealth and prosperity of their family. This provided those who condemned luxury with a scapegoat for their censure. 87 Money was also viewed in feminine terms. Polite society was also viewed as a feminine realm since it emphasized skills that were viewed as “natural” to women, such as conversation and an ability to easily dissimulate. 88 One of the writers who used gendered language in this manner was Anthony Ashley Cooper, the third earl of Shaftesbury (1671-1731), a vocal critic of the excesses that accompanied an expanding consumer and polite society. In his writings, “‘effeminacy’…was a derogatory term” used to signify “weakness” in men and the danger that Britain was facing. 89 If excesses were allowed to continue, the country would undoubtedly degenerate into an effeminate nation. The obvious foil for much of Shaftesbury’s criticisms was France, a country he believed to be the example of what could happen if Britain did not gain control of luxury. There were many others, including Ferguson, who echoed Shaftesbury’s concern. As the century progressed,
In 1749, Spain’s second Bourbon monarch, Ferdinand VI (1746–59) founded a Royal Commission on the Archives, and the Jesuit Burriel was appointed its director. The Royal Commission’s primary objectives were clear and political: they were to locate and transcribe documents in ecclesiastical archives that would strengthen royal control (the so-called patronato real) over ecclesiastical benefices and property at a time of continuing negotiations with the Vatican. Since the 16th century the patronato real had allowed Spanish monarchs to appoint bishops without regard to the curia’s wishes, and the original documents turned up by the Royal Commission would demonstrate the antiquity of the Spanish monarchy’s claims. Yet these objectives were an expression of a larger and more subtle project that would anchor the Bourbon dynasty’s claims to legitimacy in a transhistorical hispanismo. Burriel’s role in this larger vision was explicitly laid out in a letter addressed to the dean and chapter of Toledo cathedral by the secretary of state José de Carvajal y Lancaster (1698–1754). While Burriel’s brief was described as nothing less than the construction of a new ecclesiastical history of Spain, the Mozarabic rite was only mentioned as a footnote in Carvajal’s letter of introduction.
months, and ten days, died, and was translated to an eternal abode in the kingdom of Heaven. Of whom, seeing that by his zeal he converted our nation, the English, from the power of Satan to the faith of Christ, it behoves us to discourse more at large in our Ecclesiastical History, for we may rightly, nay, we must, call him our apostle; because, as soon as he began to wield the pontifical power over all the world, and was placed over the Churches long before converted to the true faith, he made our nation, till then enslaved to idols, the Church of Christ, so that concerning him we may use those words of the Apostle; “if he be not an apostle to others, yet doubtless he is to us; for the seal of his apostleship are we in the Lord.” He was by nation a Roman, son of Gordianus, tracing his descent from ancestors that were not only noble, but religious. Moreover Felix, once bishop of the same Apostolic see, a man of great honour in Christ and in the Church, was his forefather. Nor did he show his nobility in religion by less strength of devotion than his parents and kindred. But that nobility of this world which was seen in him, by the help of the Divine Grace, he used only to gain the glory of eternal dignity; for soon quitting his secular habit, he entered a monastery, wherein he began to live with so much grace of perfection that (as he was wont afterwards with tears to testify) his mind was above all transitory things; that he rose superior to all that is subject to change; that he used to think of nothing but what was heavenly; that, whilst detained by the body, he broke through the bonds of the flesh by contemplation; and that he even loved death, which is a penalty to almost all men, as the entrance into life, and the reward of his labours. This he used to say of himself, not to boast of his progress in virtue, but rather to bewail the falling off which he imagined he had sustained through his pastoral charge. Indeed, once in a private conversation with his deacon, Peter, after having enumerated the former virtues of his soul, he added sorrowfully, “But now, on account of the pastoral charge, it is entangled with the affairs of laymen, and, after so fair an appearance of inward peace, is defiled with the dust of earthly action. And having wasted itself on outward things, by turning aside to the affairs of many men, even when it desires the inward things, it returns to them undoubtedly impaired. I therefore consider what I endure, I consider what I have lost, and when I behold what I have thrown away, that which I bear appears the more grievous.”
During post-independence period, there has been much discussion on existentialism, modernism, formalism, structuralism, deconstruction, post-structuralism, surrealism, feminism etc. in literary theory and criticism, In Indian literature, there has also been a sociological set-up on the thoughts of Marx, Phule, Ambedkar, Lenin, Mao. During the post-independence period, BhalchandraNemede started to study literature with ‘nativist’ point of view i.e. ‘nativism’. Nemade thought that national consciousness is not backwardness but it is consciousness of self. Every group has its own culture.He rejected the notions like world literature.Nativism is an inevitable principle and it is everywhere. The principle of nativism is evolved by particular culture and expressed with its varied aspects in all sorts of works of art. So, Nemade does not want to neglect our own Indian culture at the cost of international culture. The roots of any good work of art are deeply rooted in that culture only. This concept of nativism changed outlook of Marathi writers and shocked the literary discussions. Naturally, his concept of nativism is also opposed by scholars. Some scholars like R. B. Patankar, Harichandra Thorat, Vilas Sarang, Aniket Jaware studied, and criticized Nemade’s concept of nativism and they raised some doubts. However, Nativism still remained at the center of discussion. Keywords: Nativism, Aesthetics, Criticism, Poetics,
[Reviewed in Novel 33 (1999): 122-24; Albion 32 (2000): 654-56; Philosophy and Literature 24 (2000): 490-93; Studies in English Literature 40 (2000): 585-86; South Atlantic Review 65 (2000): 174-77; TLS (22 Dec. 2000): 24; History of Education Quarterly 41 (2001): 274-76; 18th-Century Fiction 13 (2001): 593-95; History of Education 30.2 (2001): 202-3; 18th- Century Studies 35 (2002): 137-39; British Journal for 18th-Century Studies 25 (2002): 271- 72; The Age of Johnson 13 (2002): 610-13.]
Jackson was on the very cusp of a mad fit, but if he was lucid and capable of forming intent, then he ought to have been found guilty of murdering his servant. Charles Jackson was acquitted of his crime owing to insanity. So why was equivocal testimony, by late seventeenth century standards, accepted as sound evidence of insanity? No courtroom narratives exist for this late seventeenth century trial, so this interpretation is based upon pre-trial depositions. Perhaps the testimony entered at court was less ambiguous. It might also be suggested that the prisoner’s high social and economic standing affected legal proceedings in a positive way. The jury may also have been convinced of the veracity and value of this testimony because of the witnesses’ high social status. A guarantee of truthfulness was associated with genteel qu al it y .A congress of Justices of the Peace signed a petition which stated that Jackson was “non compos mentis”, whilst two of the Justices entered “recognizances” of one-hundred pounds each for the prisoner to appear.^® The jury may have deferred to the judgement of the Justices. Likewise, the bench may have accepted the authentication offered by persons of high rank, rather than challenging the legal ambiguities of their testimony. The statements of persons of high social standing could be respected and deemed persuasive within the courtroom.^*
interactions in a laboratory between scientists, their ideas, and, critically, their instruments. 31 More generally, he argued, a lot of what people did and of how society functioned was only made possible by material ‘actants’, from keys and doors that opened and shut spaces to tools and machinery that enabled people to express themselves and put virtual ideas into physical reality. Pistols, bullets, fridges, and plastics do matter. This rallying call for the ‘missing masses’ retains a lot of its original force. 32 In subsequent work, however, Latour went a big step further and imposed his critique of the contemporary silencing of things onto modernity as a whole. In this view, like in Marx’s, modernity was founded on a widening gulf between humans and things. But here, unlike in Marxism, it was reason (not markets and capital) that advanced the illusory idea of a civilization and progress propelled by the human mind alone. A direct line ran from Hobbes, Rousseau, and Kant in the seventeenth and eighteenthcentury to Rawls and Habermas in the twentieth. A clean break with this reason-based modernity was necessary in order to give things back their agency and get them heard: Latour aptly called for Dingpolitik. 33
Times to 1950 (London: Blandford Press, 1966); Twyman, John Soulby; Alfred F. Johnson, Type Designs: Their History & Development, 3rd edn (London: Andre Deutsch, 1966); John Dreyfus, The Design of Typefaces, (Leeds: The Leeds Philosophical & Literary Society, 1971); Nicolete Gray, Nineteenth Century Ornamented Typefaces with a Chapter on Ornamented Typefaces in America by Roy Nash (London: Faber & Faber, 1976); Nicolete Gray, ‘Slab-serif Type Design in England 1815-1845’, Journal of the Printing Historical Society, 15 (1980/81); Alexander Lawson, Anatomy of a Typeface (Boston: David R. Godine, 1990); Michael Twyman, Printing 1770-1970: An Illustrated History of its Development and Uses in England, 2nd edn (London: The British Library; New Castle: Oak Knoll Press, 1998), pp. 67-84; Alan Bartram, Typeforms: A History, (London: The British Library; New Castle: Oak Knoll Press, 2007). There are investigations in the larger projects of typefounders’ histories in: Bernard Wolpe, ed., Vincent Figgins Type Specimens 1801 and 1815. Reproduced in Facsimile (London: Printing Historical Society, 1967); Alistair Johnston, Alphabets to Order: The Literature of Nineteenth-century Typefounders’ Specimens, (New Castle: Oak Knoll Press; London: The British Library, 2000); Roy Millington, Stephenson Blake: The Last of the Old English Typefounders (New Castle: Oak Knoll Press, 2003). The uses of typefaces are addressed in numerous studies including: André Gürtler, ‘Letterform in a Historical and Cultural Context’ in Visual and Technical Aspects of Type, ed. by Roger D. Hersch