Koditschek Theodore. Liberalism, Imperialism, and the Historical Imagination: Nineteenth-Century Visions of a Greater Britain

Подождите немного. Документ загружается.

that these ethnological studies in turn provided recipes for changes in

policy.

Eager to join in these policy-making discussions, Dutt was dismayed by

the subtle racism that not only blighted his own promotion chances, but

also turned a laudable des ire to protect the “backw ard” peasant into an

excuse for treating all Indians as inferior beings. Like Lecky in Ireland,

and for much the same reasons, Dutt grew skeptical of the racial deter-

minism of the mainstream evolutionists, and fastened on H. T. Buckle’s

environmental approach as an alternative basis for understanding the

longue durée of Indian history. In an 1874 study entitled The Peasantry of

Bengal, Dutt charted their historical fortunes in environmentalist terms.

In ancient times, “nature afforded us every facility for the advancement of

our civilization,” underwriting the glorious achievements of Indian an-

tiquity. The heavy rains and fertile soil that guaranteed an easy bounty,

however, also fostered a fatalistic spirit of passivity. Thanks to early

marriage, population pressed hard upon resources, and periodic fami nes

were necessary to restore demographic balance. Centuries of conquest

and aristocratic oppression had reduced the peasant to “abject voiceless

subjection.” Finally, in the eighteenth century, this demoraliz ing pattern

had been broken by the British, who brought “peace spreading from one

end of the land to the other, commerce thriving, agriculture spreading, the

resources of the country fast developing to a wonderful extent.” Yet

British rule had not been an unadulterated good. Steeped in their own

aristocratic history and traditions, the British had empowered the zamin-

dars with their Permanent Settlement, which destroyed the limited secu-

rity that the ryot had formerly enjoyed. A new Permanent Settlement

between landlords and tenants was needed to redress the imbalance.

Following Buckle, Dutt believed that the inherent dynamism of mod-

ern progress had broken through the natural limits of environmental

fatality. The railroads, telegraphs, and print media introduced by the

British were bringing Indians from different backgrounds together, intro-

ducing them to new ways of thinking, and rendering them increasingly

capable of managing their own affairs. This had been recognized in the

C. Dewey, “The Inﬂuence of Henry Maine on Agrarian Policy in India,” in Diamond

(ed.), Victorian Achievement of Sir Henry Maine, 353–75; Collini, Winch, and Burrow,

Science of Politics, 210.

H. T. Buckle, History of Civilization in England, 2 vols. (New York, 1897), I: 29–66;

Romesh Chunder Dutt, The Peasantry of Bengal [1874] (Calcutta, 1890), quotes on 33,

132, 135; R. C. Dutt, “Modern Researches into the Origin and Early Phases of

Civilization,” Calcutta Review, 75 (1882), 132–51; R. C. Dutt, “Progress in India,”

Calcutta Review, 199 (1895), 121–32; GLD, 78–114; Pauline Rule, The Pursuit of

Progress: A Study of the Intellectual Development of Romesh Chunder Dutt, 1848–1888

(Calcutta, 1977), 39–74.

R. C. Dutt: evolution and the liberal middle-class other 235

1820s and 1830s by Munro, Elphinstone, and Bentinck, “whose names

have lived ever enshrined in the affections of the peop le ... as the greatest

and noblest Indian rulers.” Unfortu nately, just when the fruits of liberal

imperialism were ripening, a new generation of British administrators was

retreating from these goals, under cover of evolutionism. A year later, the

leading EIC ofﬁcials were all abuzz about H. S. Maine’s latest book,

Lectures on the Early History of Institutions (1875), which Dutt was “very

anxious to read.” Although he did not record his reaction to the volume,

he must have sighed at this further effort to secure an English monopoly

on modernity by ﬁguring the colonia l other as an evolutionary vestige

from the past. Now the case of Ireland was added to the British–Indian

comparative ﬁle. The Brehon Law was set alongside the ancient English

Folk-Moot and the modern Indian village, all being deemed to be

descended from the same Aryan root. Yet the English alone had trod

the hard road of modernization and imperial expansion. They had allowed

the Indians to slumb er and stagnate, but were now forcing Ireland to

join the onward and upward slog. English, Irish, and Indians could all feel

a sense of common ancestry, yet citizenship accrued only to the English,

who had scaled the heights of modern “contract.” It had to be denied to

Indians, consigned as they were to “status” dependency.

Dutt pinpointed what he saw as the error in this thinking in a brief

sketch of Sir Ashley Eden. He was “a good man” who “worked steadily for

the good of my country,” especially in “the battle he fought for the

oppressed raiyats against the planters.” Yet

He likes to see people come to him and salâm him; he likes to oblige them and to

favor them with a benign smile, or with posts for their children ... Agitation for

rights he hates; supplication for favors he understands and rewards. Representative

institutions he hates of course, and his opposition to the Calcutta Municipality is one

of his most frightful blunders.

Just when members of Dutt’s own liberal, urba n bhadralok class were

becoming effective Macaulayite mediators between British modernity and

Indian tradition, the British concluded that India was unﬁt to be modern,

and that these anglicized Indians were a dangerous mongrel breed. As an

employee of the government, Dutt had to be careful about his public

Henry Maine, Lectures on the Early History of Institutions [1875] (London, 1905), 9–23. For

general discussions of Aryanism as a British imperial ideology in the nineteenth century, see

Joan Leopold, “British Applications of the Aryan Theory of Race to India, 1850–1870,”

English Historical Review, 89.352 (July, 1974), 578–603; Trautmann, Aryans and British

India; Tony Ballantyne, Orientalism and Race: Aryanism and the British Empire (New York,

2002).

Quoted in GLD, 50–1.

236 Greater Britain and the “lesser breeds”

statements, and he thought that his book on the peasantry had harmed his

prospects for promotion.

When the ryots of Pabna organized a massive

rent-strike to protest oppressive conditi ons, he published an anonymous

article “confess[ing] we are pleased to ﬁnd evidences that the millions of

Bengal are at last awakening from their lethargy, and that, retaining the

peaceful habits of their forefathers, they are yet in the present day capable

of action in cases of emergency.” When the protests petered out, Dutt was

forced to recognize the limits of “action.” Neither he nor the peasants had

successfully broken out of their ascriptive enclosures or forced thei r way

up onto the surface narrative of politically consequential events. When

the new Viceroy, Lord Lytton, imposed his Vernacular Press Act of 1878,

they were both forced to recog nize their ineffectuality. According

to Lytton, “the Baboodom of Lower Bengal” was unﬁt for most forms

of administrati ve employment. “Though disloyal,” this English poet-

politician jeered, it “is fortunately cowardly and its only revolver is its

ink bottle; which though dirty, is not dangerous.”

For a man like Dutt, who already had one foot in administrative

employment and who hoped to use his ink bottle to join the theory-

writing class, such words were not merely insults, but an existential threat.

Was it merely a coincidence that, in the very year when Lytton shot forth

these sallies, Dutt expressed frust ration at his prospects for original intel-

lectual work?

When I read the works of such great thinkers as Darwin, when I think of the great

ferment of bold speculation and free thought now prevailing in the scientiﬁc circles

of free England, how fervently do I wish to cut myself from society, and family, and

service, and bury myself for years in the library of the British Museum and make at

least one attempt to do something great and glorious.

Yet four months later, on his thirtieth birthday, Dutt confessed,

Where are the great achievement and works, the European reputation, which were

the dreams of younger years? ... I have health, I have a good income, and I am not

unknown to my countrymen. It would be ridiculous to compare this with what

I once aspired to, but I have learned that it is still more ridiculous to make myself

unhappy because I cannot do more than I can do.

There was poignancy in Dutt ’s belief that dis tance from the “sc ientiﬁc

circles of free England” had impeded his European reputation, or that

access to the British Museum library might have brok en his intellectual

GLD, 56–60.

Quoted in Anil Seal, The Emergence of Indian Nationalism: Competition and Collaboration in

the Later Nineteenth Century (Cambridge, 1968), 141.

Quoted in GLD, 203–4.

Quoted in GLD, 204–5.

R. C. Dutt: evolution and the liberal middle-class other 237

impasse. For the decade of the 1870s (when he was stuck in rural India)

was the moment when metropolitan intellectuals consolidated the bul-

warks of Eurocentrism, excluding men like Dutt from the possibility of

full citize nship and empowering proconsuls like Lytton in their derisive

mockery. On the face of it this new phase of evolutionary scholarship

might seem unconnected to imperial questions, since its primary focus

shifted to English medieval history. Nevertheless, by importing the evo-

lutionary agenda into the historiography of England, three leading met-

ropolitan historians, E. A. Freeman, J. R. Green, and William Stub bs,

greatly reinforced the thrust of Anglo-Saxon exclusionism by asserting

the unique character of English history.

In a manner that corresponded with Lubbock’s “neolithic” a decade

earlier, these scholars identiﬁed c.500–1500 as an intermediate period:

a relatively neglected “missing link,” when Europe broke away from

the legacy of classical civilization and formed a bridge to modernity.

Conventionally dismissed as a “dark” age of chaos and violence, this

was now conceived to be a creative time, when Europe consolidated her

superiority over Asia, and England acquired those distinctive national

features that would secure her global dominance during the nineteenth

century.

Never entirely breaking with the narrative mode of Froude and

Macaulay (and wary of too direct an association with Darwin), these men

nevertheless showed how historical analysis could be recast in evolution-

ary terms. The great Froudian or Macaulayite heroes (Henry and Cecil, or

William and Clive) had no counterparts in their volumes, which were

devoid of the outsize dramatic revolutionary moments in which entire eras

were deemed to shift. By contrast, the more deeply buried monarchs of

the middle ages – Alfred, Aethe lred, William, John, the two Henrys, and

the three Edwards – were presented as more shadowy, less fully limned,

ﬁgures, whose capacity for consequential action had been shaped by the

conditions of their time.

With the freedom-creating deeds of Macaulay’s heroes now distributed

over a wider cast of actors and conjunctures, it became easier to highlight

the deeper racial and constitutional forces that operated only over the very

long run. The task of history, in the eyes of these medieval historians, was

not simply to celebrate the accomplishments of individual heroes, but also

to map the deep structures of slow transmutation that were channeli ng the

surface ﬂow of events. To re-write medieval history in this incremental ist

T. W. Heyck, The Transformation of Intellectual Life in Victorian England (London, 1982),

1–154; Reba N. Soffer, Discipline and Power: The University, History and the Making of an

English Elite, 1870–1930 (Stanford, 1994); Michael Bentley, Modernizing England’s Past:

English History in the Age of Modernism: 1870–1970 (Cambridge, 2003), 1–91.

238 Greater Britain and the “lesser breeds”

manner, Freeman, Green, and Stubbs had to ﬁnd a new kind of inter-

mediate chronometry. The longue durée of racial and constitutional evo-

lution had to be reconciled with the surface nar rative of actors and their

deeds. In medieval England, as in Maineite Rome, free men were steadily

departing from the enclosures of status. Kings, noblemen, and warriors

were all being resurrected as Maine-like pat ria potestas. Momentarily

escaping from the constraints of the collective (partly racial and partly

constitutional), they slowly and incrementally transformed these struc-

tures as they strove toward the future of modern contract.

Since the focus of these three hist orians was relentlessly insular, it might

seem odd to include them in an analysis of the role of hist ory in recon-

structing visions of Empire and race. In fact, the two tasks were intimately

connected. By recasting their work in an evolutionary register, these

English historians further reﬁned the highly racialized “comparative

method” which had been originally pioneered by Lubbock and Maine.

Where Lubbock and Maine constructed imperial selves by evolutionizing

about the colonial other, these three secured metropolitan dominance

over this other by rewriting the history of England as the emergence of a

master race. In the case of Stubbs and Gre en, this racializing agenda was

implicit.

In the case of Freeman, however, the same move that privileged

medieval Anglo-Saxons also demanded the abjection of racial others who,

like Dutt, dared to contest their subalternity. To consign these abjects

to the prehistorical prison of status, it was necessary to trumpet their

incompetence, which correspondingly showcased the Englishman’s

inherent superiority. For Freeman, the essence of the “comparative

method” lay in the elucidation of a natural racial hierarchy. Africans

were dismissed as scarcely human, and Asians were only one step above.

Irishmen and Indians were consigned to half-Aryan perdition, while

generic European Aryans were inferior to Teutons, especially Anglo-

Saxons, the sine qua non of the master race.

In Freeman’s hands, the progress narrative becomes a story of racial

evolution that begins in Greece and Rome, jumps to Germany, migrates

to England, and then ﬁnally spreads across the earth. It is a testament to

his ﬁxation with racial ordering that he encapsulated this evolutionary

story in the two epigraphs at the head of this chapter. While the second

SCH, III: 501–2.

For an up-to-date discussion of Anglo-Saxonism, see Peter Mandler, The English National

Character: The History of an Idea from Edmund Burke to Tony Blair (New Haven, 2006), 27–

105, which synopsizes a wide range of Anglo-Saxonist discourse, even as it seeks to de-

emphasize the theme of race.

C. J. W. Parker, “The Failure of Liberal Racialism: The Racial Ideas of E. A. Freeman,”

The Historical Journal, 24.4 (1981), 825–46.

R. C. Dutt: evolution and the liberal middle-class other 239

comment was reserve d for his private correspondence, the ﬁrst infused his

published work. It condensed his vision of human development into a

nutshell: from the Greek and the Roman we ascend Teutonic heights,

with three successive branchings along the tree of English ancestors and

three ascending rungs up the ladder of racial superiority. It was an unbro-

ken evolutionary progression “which sets man before us in his highest

form,” a “long history of civilized man whi ch stretches on in one unbroken

tale from the union of the towns of Attica to the last measure of progress

in England or in Germany.”

To the history of “lesser breeds,”

by contrast, Freeman felt a visceral aversion. “I am yearning to m ake a

speech, knock down a Jew, or anything that might be for the public good,”

he intimated to a friend in 1880. “I am fuming at this jew humbug,” he

announced eleven years later in reaction to British protests against the

Russian pogroms. “Let every nation wallop its own Jews .. .The best thing

is to kick them out altogether, like Edward Longshanks of famous

memory.”

6 E. A. Freeman: the rise of the Anglo-Saxon

in racial and evolutionary history

Edward Augustus Freeman was born in 1823, the son of a prosperous

Staffordshire coal owner, although he was raised by grandparents after

both of his parents died. Like Froude, he came under the inﬂuence of the

Tractarians while attending Oxford in the 1840s. Unlike Froude, how-

ever, Freeman gradually grew to identify as a Liberal, albeit one excep-

tionally conscious of race. Epiphany came in 1862, when he traveled to

Switzerland and witnessed the Landesgemeinden or popular assemblies

that ruled the free German-speaking cantons. “To stand with the clear

heaven above, and the snowy mountains on either side,” he enthused,

“and see the descendants of the men of Sempach and Morganten dis-

charge the immemorial rights of Teutonic free men is a sight which may

well make us doubt whether we are in the common world, or in some

historical paradise of our imaginati on.”

This would not be the last of Freeman’s difﬁculties in distinguishing

real cons anguinity from ideological fantasy. The comparison of modern

German-Swiss with the ancient Teutons is begun in the manner of

Lubbock or Maine. Yet where Lubbock and Maine referenced the primi-

tivism of ancient Europeans to underscore the backwardness of modern

E. A. Freeman, Comparative Politics (London, 1873), 24.

W. R. W. Stephens, Life and Letters of E. A. Freeman, 2 vols. (London, 1895), II: 173–4, 428.

Stephens, Life and Letters,I:1–174, 296.

240 Greater Britain and the “lesser breeds”

savages or Indians, Freeman referenced the civic virtue of modern Swiss

citizens as a way of demonstrating the political precocity of the prehistoric

Teutons. “Not in fancy, but in reality,” Freeman concluded, these pop-

ular assemblies of the Aryan present and past represented “the eternal

democracy, well nigh as eternal as the hills that guard the constitution

which was of immemorial antiquity in the days of Tacitus, and which since

the days of Tacitus, has suffered no interruption save during the momen-

tary havoc of the hordes of revolutionary France.”

Freeman spent the rest of his life thinking about how this Teutonic

racial democracy could be ﬁtted for the modern epoch, and how it could

serve as an antidote to the soulless, pseudo-democracy that was being

peddled by the radical and socialist heirs of revolutionary France. His ﬁrst

impulse was to focus on the Swiss Confederation, treating it as a modern-

day analogue to the ancient federation of Greek city-states. The federal

idea appealed to Freeman because he envisioned it as a way to create

moderately sized political units such as were necessary to survive as

independent polities in the modern era of sovereign states. Voluntary

union in external relations combined with autonomy in internal affairs

might redirect (without destroying) the intense local solidarities that he

saw as a necessary feature of racial democracy. Yet after publishing the

ﬁrst volume of a History of Federal Government (1863), Freeman con-

cluded that the Greek and Swiss models were un-adaptive dead ends.

Even at their most expans ive, they would constitute only micro-polities,

which could hardly stand up to the super-states of the emerging indus-

trial world. The collapse of American federalism during the early 1860s –

and its multiracial reconstruction after 1865 – convinced him that true

(ethnically homogen eous) federalism was not possible on the scale of a

super-state.

By the mid-1860s, Freeman had come to see that the evolution

of successful polities was a complex historical problem that had to be

traced out in detail over many centuries. It was this realization that drew

him to the history of medieval England, which he now saw as the crucial

moment when an already superior Anglo-Saxon race adapted to the

requirements of political centralization without sacriﬁcing that scope

for individu al (male) initiative that had made their ancestors great.

Centuries of preparation in this new political structure, combining free-

dom with authority, ﬁnally enabled the post-medieval Englishman to

perform the great deeds of the Reformation, Glorious Revolution, and

Freeman, “The Landesgemeinden of Uri,” Saturday Review, 18 (May 21, 1864), 622.

Freeman, The History of Federal Government (London, 1863); Freeman, Comparative

Politics, 65, 81.

E. A. Freeman: the rise of the Anglo-Saxon 241

imperial expansion that had been chronicled (however badly) in the

annals of Macaulay and Froude.

Since Fre eman believed that the A nglo-Saxons were prede stined

to become the ruling race, he had to ﬁnd a version of prehistory that

spun the sto ry in this way. Though personally uninvolved in archaeo-

logical excavatio n, he beca me close friends with Boyd D awkins, an

Oxford geologist, who had the necessary expertise. In his popular book

Cave Hunting, Dawkins presented a vision of European prehistory

that differed s igniﬁcantly from the irenic progressivism of Lubbock.

Western Europe in general, and Britain in particular, had been the site

of constant struggle s between ever more supe rior races, as brow-ridged

Neanderthals (using Mousterian tools) gave way to Ice Age Eskimo

hunters (using Magdalenian tools), who were replaced by a “dark haired,

swarthy” (Bronze Age) race of people whom Dawkins identiﬁed as the

ancestors of t he Basques. During the Iron Age, these primitive peoples

were replaced by the Celts and the Belgae, and then ﬁnallybythe

Germans, whose c onquests ushered in the age of written historical

records. It was le ft for the reader to draw the implicatio n that Britain’s

global and impe rial ascendancy was de eply encoded in her racialized

past. In Asia, Africa, and indigenous America, primitive dark men still

subsisted i n a Stone Age or Bronze Age mentality. B y contrast, British

history had bec ome a Darwinian proving ground where, again and again,

the weaker race (dark and low-tech) had perished and only the strongest

race (light and high-tech) had survived.

For Freeman, this premise – that the Anglo-Saxon conquest had

resulted in the near extermination of the indigenous inhabitants – became

the starting point, at which a distinctively English evolution com-

menced.

Of course, much had happened since the days of these bloody

race struggles, and it was only because Anglo-Saxons had successfully

adapted to further challenges that they remained the top branch of the

modern evolutionary tree. To understand this more nuanced pr ocess,

Freeman decided to write a detailed history of the Norman Conquest.

Although this topic had already been extensively researched, he consid-

ered the existing works to be inadequate. For far too long, the “Norman

Yoke” had been invoked by English radicals as a badge of class oppres-

sion. Although this myth had been partly dismantled by Sir Francis

Palgrave, Freeman wanted to reﬁgure it as a catalyst for a new consensus

FNC, I: xii–xx.

Boyd Dawkins, Cave Hunting: Researches on the Evidence of Caves Respecting the Early

Inhabitants of Europe (London, 1874).

FNC, I: 14, 17–18, 20–1.

242 Greater Britain and the “lesser breeds”

around an alternative ideal of national unity. Conquered and defeated

in 1066, the Anglo-Saxons momentarily stood in danger of becoming

a lesser breed. But disaster was transformed into an adaptive opportunity.

The foreign strain was successfully absorbed, laying the foundation for a

stronger, more formidable English nationality.

Freeman began by pointing out that long before their appearance in

the historical record, the primordial Teutonic ancestors of the Anglo-

Saxons had already developed most of the features that facilitated their

survival in the turbulent struggles of antiquity. In particular, their love of

freedom, their warlike demeanor, their egalitarian social structure, and

their democratic system of direct self-rule all worked together to make

these barbarians formidable ﬁghters, who could utterly crush the more

sophisticated (but also effete) Latin and Celtic inhabitants of the lands

that they coveted. Drawing on the work of German historians, as well as

the Englishman John Kemble, Freeman argued that Anglo-Saxon eco-

nomic and political structure was based on an institution known as the

Mark. Like Maine’s village community, the Mark was depicted as a

voluntary association of free warriors, who united to defend (and where

possible extend) their landholdings. Although some social distinctions

developed within these communities , leaders were chosen by assemblies

of freedmen, which regularly met (on the Swiss model) to renew the

hallowed traditions of patriarchal democracy.

Once they had wiped out the indigenous Britons, Freeman’s Anglo-

Saxons settled down on their new island, exhibiting adaptations that ﬁtted

them for the future. Christian conversion tempered their blood-letting

and enabled them to co-exist with the surviving Celtic communities to the

north and west. At the same time, constant pressure from the Dane s

compelled them to reﬁne their military organization and to coale sce in

ever larger political units for self-defence.

The Mark, with its folkland,

began to exhibit a new set of individuated variations as portions of the

common ﬁelds were converted into allodial property, which could be

handed down from generation to generation. Correspondingly, the com-

itatus (band of male warriors), with its elective chief, became integrated

with other bands under a co-ordinating aristocracy. Chieﬂy alliances were

further integrated into petty kingdoms, which were patched toget her into

FNC, I: 2–4; Christopher Hill, “The Norman Yoke,” in Puritanism and Revolution: Studies

in the Interpretation of the English Revolution of the Seventeenth Century (New York, 1964),

50–122; Augustin Thierry, History of the Conquest of the Normans, 2 vols. (London, 1907).

Stephens, Life and Letters, I: 114–20; John Kemble, The Saxons in England: A History of the

English Commonwealth till the Period of the Norman Conquest, 2 vols. (London, 1849), I:

35–71; FNC, I: 83–90.

FNC, I: 22–71.

E. A. Freeman: the rise of the Anglo-Saxon 243

an overarching heptarchy. This process ﬁnally culminated in the ach ieve-

ment of King Alfred of Wessex, whose uniﬁed monarchy turned Anglo-

Saxon tribalism into an English national identity.

While these changes facilitated greater political and military organiza-

tion, Freeman indicates that they had their costs. Inequalities began to

harden in both political and economic terms. A feudal hierarchy gradually

developed as landholding became private and hereditary. Poorer se ctors

of the ceorl (warrior) community sank into serfdom, which undermined

national solidarity. But there were compensating features that preserved

the libertarian heritage: the hundred and shire emerged as new foci for

local and regional self-government, while the Witangemot provided gua r-

antees, at the highest level, against the danger of royal tyranny.

Freeman’s idée ﬁxe is that the Norman Conquest preserved much that

was authentically English, including elements that would have disap-

peared had the Anglo-Saxon polity survived. A weak monarchy, such as

developed under Edward the Confessor, might have split the kingdom up

into a handful of magnate ﬁefdoms, with consequences resembling those

that decimated medieval France. Key to this argument was the premise

that the Normans were actually Teutonic cousins, who had left their

Nordic home a few generations earlier. Conquering France, they had

become dangerously Frenchiﬁed. Their northern turn to England there-

fore represented a return to thei r original Teutonic roots.

As Europe became ever more densely interconnected during the twelfth

and thirteenth centuries, the bridge that the Angevin Empire threw out-

ward to the continent worked to preserve England’s insular autonomy.

Over this period there was a gradual fusion of the two languages, legal

systems, and aristocratic elites. In each case, the Norman infusion served

to quicken a Teutonic heritage that might otherwise have grown inbred.

Most importantly, this Norman infusion enabled the Anglo-Saxon tradi-

tion of self-government to evolve, after the Magna Carta, into forms of

representative government that were better suited to the emerging condi-

tions of proto-modernity. Such were the effects of incremental evolution

that “time did its work without any formal enactment, without any change

of established custom, the Assembly of foreigners changed back into

an assembly of Englishmen.”

The Anglo-Saxon courts, institutionally

reconstructed by despotism, were transformed by the jury into popular

FNC, I: 83–97.

FNC, I: 97–147, especially 110–11, 112. Freeman contrasts Anglo-Saxon paradigms of

nation formation through hierarchy and loyalty with the Swiss and Scottish Federal model

(FNC, I: 129–47).

FNC, I: 149–50, V: 53–68, 333–9.

FNC, V: 340–64.

FNC, V: 364–458, quote on 415.

244 Greater Britain and the “lesser breeds”