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.

This chapter addresses Wollstonecraft’s Historical and Moral View of the Origin and Progress of the French Revolution (1794), the work in which she engages most explicitly with contemporary political economic thought. Noting that she gives particular prominence to the liberation of the grain trade in the early years of the Revolution, it explores how Wollstonecraft uses the issue to yoke commercial with political forms of liberty. The free circulation of grain was a totemic issue in Adam Smith’s new political economy of ‘natural liberty’, but it also pitted the market against traditional notions of ‘moral economy’. The chapter also explores Wollstonecraft’s links with Girondin politicians, including Jacques Pierre Brissot, and theirs with the Shelburne circle of the 1780s, and discusses the involvement of Americans Joel Barlow and Gilbert Imlay in provisioning the French Republic in the mid-1790s: activity which informed the hostility to commerce of Wollstonecraft’s later works.

Rousseau has long been understood as a theorist of inequality – though attention to Rousseau has been largely directed to his 1754 Discourse on the Origin of Inequality. While scholars are, naturally, right to address this central work, they would do well to consider what can be learned from other works, including The Social Contract (1762). In this text, readers often neglect a passage that Rousseau himself highlights: that “the end of every system of legislation … comes down to the following two principal objects, freedom and equality” (II.11). This chapter explores Rousseau’s understanding of freedom and equality with special attention to the latter as manifested in the problem of economic inequality. In doing so, further, it details how his thinking about freedom and equality were shaped by the ancient sources of Plato and Plutarch – his two favorite ancient thinkers. In both ancient sources, it turns out that economic equality is essential to achieving either political freedom or civil harmony. This essay, thus, not only details the centrality of economic equality to Rousseau’s political thought but also provides a serious account of how he came to this position.

Personal liberty can be viewed through the lens of the good or the right. Do we value liberty because it is part of our good, or a means to our good, or do we value it because it is our right to have it? This chapter considers the value of liberty from the standpoint of the good. The ethical environmentalism defended in previous chapters, it argues, must be sensitive to the value of liberty as a personal good. In an important sense, people only lead good lives if they lead free lives. The chapter begins with the common idea that there is, or ought to be, a general presumption in favor of liberty. It next considers deeper ideals of liberty, such as autonomy or authenticity, that can be appealed to in order to explain liberty’s value. These deeper ideals are shown to be genuine ideals but their value is qualified in ways that are not widely appreciated. The chapter concludes by considering expressive or conventional reasons for opposing coercive or manipulative liberty-reducing interventions. It argues that these reasons require a deeper explanation, and one that pulls us beyond the value of liberty understood as a personal good.

The age of Atlantic revolutions brought hope for fundamental change, a scarce good in the early modern world. Change was achieved through the creation and legal incorporation of rights, which differed from privileges, as they transcended all structures of authority and were thus common to humankind. Yet inequalities persisted, especially inequality of property and religion. What did change was the ability to voice one’s opinion. Slogans used in national debates were utilized by people across social boundaries in countless local settings to express their political views or personal interests. This instrumentalization in turn reverberated on the national level. To succeed in achieving political goals, the mobilization of public opinion became indispensable. Likewise, revolutionaries agreed that the regimes they built had to be supported by some form of popular control over the government. But the actual people – rather than the abstract one that was a source of legitimacy – was feared nonetheless. Most new regimes were republics, while royalists tended to uphold the status quo or pursue their goals without overthrowing the government, although royalism did not necessarily denote a progressive or conservative ideology.

The age of Atlantic revolutions brought hope for fundamental change, a scarce good in the early modern world. Change was achieved through the creation and legal incorporation of rights, which differed from privileges, as they transcended all structures of authority and were thus common to humankind. Yet inequalities persisted, especially inequality of property and religion. What did change was the ability to voice one’s opinion. Slogans used in national debates were utilized by people across social boundaries in countless local settings to express their political views or personal interests. This instrumentalization in turn reverberated on the national level. To succeed in achieving political goals, the mobilization of public opinion became indispensable. Likewise, revolutionaries agreed that the regimes they built had to be supported by some form of popular control over the government. But the actual people – rather than the abstract one that was a source of legitimacy – was feared nonetheless. Most new regimes were republics, while royalists tended to uphold the status quo or pursue their goals without overthrowing the government, although royalism did not necessarily denote a progressive or conservative ideology.

Chapter 5 challenges accounts of the ‘Union’ debate of 1603–1608 as a story of English constitutionalist resistance to James’s absolutist Union. Edmund Plowden’s Treatise (1567) used the ‘King’s Two Bodies’ to locate sovereignty in the ‘body politic’ of the English common law. He transformed the old Galfridian notion of English overlordship into an allegory of Scotland’s jurisdictional sub-nationality, Scotland’s body politic kneeling before England’s. The problem created by James’s accession was how, after Plowden, to deny Scots the rights of English naturalisation. How to justify excluding Scots from free trade with England and from the common law liberties of Englishmen? Sir Henry Savile and Sir Henry Spelman drew ingeniously on myths of King Edgar’s (943–975) thalassocratic rule over the British islands to argue simultaneously that Scots were aliens and (lest that suggest that a Scottish accession had brought England geopolitical advantages to be recompensed) that this alien nation’s coastlines had nevertheless always been under English sea-sovereignty. England’s trade expanded while Scots, though subject to English foreign policy, were excluded as aliens from participation.

Human rights have had a fragile status in Britain, given the overpowering doctrine of parliamentary sovereignty, which has enabled a parliamentary majority to achieve any policy in the absence of entrenched constitutional protections. Plans to repeal the 1998 Human Rights Act are evidence of this. Dicey wrote that parliamentary sovereignty was tempered by the rule of law in the UK, but it is unclear from his work how the rule of law could operate to override the will of a despotic parliamentary majority. Brexit adds to this precarity, by removing EU human rights protection from UK law (which had something close to an entrenched status, while the UK was an EU member). This calculated deletion of fundamental rights – involved in the deliberate exclusion of the EU Charter of Fundamental Rights from UK law post-Brexit – is almost unparalleled in the Western world (although perhaps the US Supreme Court’s Dobbs decision, which removed the protected status of the right to abortion from US constitutional law, comes close, at least for that right).

The age of Atlantic revolutions brought hope for fundamental change, a scarce good in the early modern world. Change was achieved through the creation and legal incorporation of rights, which differed from privileges, as they transcended all structures of authority and were thus common to humankind. Yet inequalities persisted, especially inequality of property and religion. What did change was the ability to voice one’s opinion. Slogans used in national debates were utilized by people across social boundaries in countless local settings to express their political views or personal interests. This instrumentalization in turn reverberated on the national level. To succeed in achieving political goals, the mobilization of public opinion became indispensable. Likewise, revolutionaries agreed that the regimes they built had to be supported by some form of popular control over the government. But the actual people – rather than the abstract one that was a source of legitimacy – was feared nonetheless. Most new regimes were republics, while royalists tended to uphold the status quo or pursue their goals without overthrowing the government, although royalism did not necessarily denote a progressive or conservative ideology.