This paper focuses on a methodological issue plaguing our understanding of eighteenth-century politics and political theory. It demonstrates the power of academic history to lend intellectual coherence to ideas which did not exist or were only partially formed within particular historical moments. The concept of “radicalism” is an example of this issue. It is a catch-all term applied to diverse movements including the Association Movement of the 1780s and the urban reform societies of the 1790s. This has been motivated by a desire to trace a tradition of nineteenth-century “radicalism” back to the eighteenth century. Yet, any attempt to impose on the politics of the eighteenth century a term charged with normative meaning specific to the nineteenth century is anachronistic. The paper shows that unsympathetic uses of the terms “radical” and “radicalism” in the literature has distorted our understanding. This is undertaken with reference to Christopher Wyvill, the leader of the Yorkshire Association and an advocate for ‘moderate’ parliamentary reform. Misrepresented as a “radical” throughout the literature, Wyvill’s unswerving articulation of the need for “moderation” puts him at odds with his description by biographers. The self-consciously “moderate” Wyvill marks an important figure through whom this methodological issue can be critiqued.

Abstract: The article explores the meanings of the awnings and columns at the Lisbon Corpus Christi procession during the reigns of D. John V and D. José I. Frequently used in Europe since the sixteenth century, awnings and columns became systematically employed with the support of the Portuguese Crown and other agents. Our discussion is based on the idea that both awnings and columns were sacred symbols of the procession’s reform during the eighteenth century. We analyse the discussions of the time over the form and material composition of these awnings, along with their conservation, use, political and financial burden for the Municipal Council, Crown, and artisans. We also discuss the reform of the procession, which excluded traditional and popular practices and introduced those material elements, making the presentation more solemn. Our analysis of this eighteenth-century reform focuses on the trajectory of some of the agents involved in the process.

This essay surveys both the traditional findings and new debates that have used the Spanish imperial royal financial accounts to analyze the colonial economy and government. The crisis of the seventeenth century, the relations between colonial elites and royal government, the impact of income transfers among treasury offices, the sale of offices, the system of voluntary loans, the eighteenth-century reforms, and the influence of the tax system on the evolution of the colonial economy and society have all created a new set of questions and debates that historians, economists, and political scientists have engaged in. There is both consensus and disagreement on what these numbers mean for various groups in the society as well as long-term institutional developments. Just as new approaches have opened up new area for research, there are also a great deal of unexplored topics that can be developed using the unpublished primary accounts.

The Jesuit missions among the Guaraní Indians in Paraguay (1640s to 1767) have attracted attention for many centuries. At their peak in the early eighteenth century, the missions, numbering thirty at the time, encompassed around 140,000 people. They appeared to be virtually autonomous in their government, relying mostly on an internal economy only partially connected to the colonial economy. Owensby contributes to the study of these missions by placing them within a larger history of capitalism (which he calls “gain”). He argues that the Guaraní economy, based on what he calls “substantive mutuality,” offered an alternative to the European model’s increasing focus on mercantile endeavor and the exaltation of individual profit.Owensby dives deeply into the history of Paraguay as a Spanish colony, from its beginnings when the Guaraní accepted the Spanish as allies to aid in the defense against outside indigenous enemies. He asserts that the Guaraní understood society as the ultimate refuge against predation; the keys to a good life were exchange and reciprocation, which the Guaraní initially enjoyed with the Spanish, accepting them as brothers-in-law to their women and thus incorporating them into their society. As the sixteenth century wore on, however, the Spanish changed this relationship by seizing or demanding Guaraní women as a way to accumulate wealth. Owensby provides a culturally sensitive discussion of the interplay between Spanish exploitation of indigenous labor and the Guaraní response. The Guaraní began to bristle at the Spanish demands.By the early seventeenth century, the Jesuit missions had offered the Guaraní protection from Spanish exploitation. Owensby shows through the careful reading of philosophical texts, ranging from Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas to sixteenth-century Spanish treatises, how the Jesuit vision dovetailed with Guaraní social relations. By the early eighteenth century, the missions had reached their apogee, which Owensby characterizes as a system largely based on indigenous consent to the mutual benefit of the Spaniards and the Guaraní (“substantive mutuality”). Owensby does not provide much detail about the founding of the missions nor of their administration; his purpose is to explore the thinking that lay behind the way the missions were supposed to work.The foregoing is not meant to imply that Owensby does not discuss such crucial aspects as the lead-up to the Guaraní War, when a large part of the mission population rebelled against the king, surrendering seven of the most prosperous missions to the Portuguese as part of the Treaty of Madrid (1750). Owensby dedicates two chapters to the expulsion of the Jesuits in 1767 and its aftermath to show how new ideas of utility and the triumph of economic rationality over other aspects of rule destroyed the mission towns. Chapter 7 is an acute analysis not only of the missions but also of the late eighteenth-century reform project of the Spanish Bourbon monarchy in general.In its attempt to use the Guaraní missions to make larger points about the history of capitalism, the last chapter veers from Paraguay to a discussion of how intellectuals of the seventeenth and eighteenth century (mis)interpreted the Jesuit missions for their own ends. Owensby uses interpretations from the British Isles to reveal the disdain that most thinkers had for the missions as a counterexample to the emerging European system of commerce and individual gain.Through his exploration of the Paraguayan missions, Owensby makes the case that European notions of economic gain were not inevitable and that societies could be organized in better ways to bring about greater well-being. This book is important not only for its erudition about the Paraguayan missions but also for its understanding of the European colonial enterprise and economic thought in general.

Traditional Russian worldviews explained healing from water sources in terms both Protestants and Catholics would have used elsewhere in Europe: as the grace of God or as the intervention of saints through associated relics or wonder-working icons. Holy wells were freely venerated within parishes until the eighteenth century when Peter the Great and the Holy Synod (the Russian Orthodox Church’s highest governing body) forbade pilgrimage to holy wells in a reformist drive to eradicate religious “superstitions.” This essay employs primary sources to consider how nineteenth-century developments at Russian holy wells and mineral springs related to social class, economics and those eighteenth-century reforms that merged the church with government structures. While liturgical activities at holy wells and the designation of new holy wells was criminalized, mineral springs gained appeal for “scientific” cures and as resort enterprises for the upper classes

One of the issues that has received increasingly more attention from different historiographies has a long eighteenth century as its chronological frame, and, more specifically, the period from the mid to the end of the 18th century. It refers to the possible relationship between projects and reformist practices, on the one hand, and the set of ideas under the label of Enlightenment, on the other. In the Portuguese case, the reign of D. José I is generally presented as a decisive stage of the enlightened reforms. The period is viewed more in terms of rupture than of continuity, the former bringing with it signs of “modernity” of the Enlightenment. From the perspective of the Atlantic world and, in particular, of the Portuguese Atlantic world, we discuss in the paper the relationship that is sometimes hastily made between eighteenth-century reforms and the Enlightenment, especially those attributed to the Secretary of State Sebastião José de Carvalho and Melo, and the limits of the reforms.

ABSTRACTIn 1779, Thomas Jefferson proposed the use of nose-cutting to punish women convicted of specific offences, and the use of retaliation (lex talionis) for anyone who deliberately disfigured another person. These punishments were intended to replace the death penalty for these crimes, and as such formed part of Jefferson's attempt to rationalise the Virginian law code in line with eighteenth-century reform principles. Jefferson drew on British laws from the Anglo-Saxon period to the Coventry Act for his bill, but his proposals contrast strikingly with British movements away from corporal marking as punishment used against their own citizens. This article examines the origins and fates of equivalent crimes and punishments in the law codes Jefferson examined, and compares the legal and wider connotations of facial appearance and disfigurement that made these proposals coherent in Virginia when they had long ceased elsewhere. Tracing examples and discussion of these intersecting cases will greatly increase our understanding of Jefferson's proposals, and the relationships between facial difference, stigma and disability in eighteenth-century America.

ABSTRACTThis article provides a reappraisal of the history of proyectismo. Scholars have employed the concept to categorise early eighteenth-century Spanish authors and reforms, and have thereby severed them from their historical context. This article explores the imperial origins of this political culture by shedding light on the generation of knowledge in early eighteenth-century diplomatic and imperial spaces. The article focuses on the overlooked thinker Álvaro José Navia-Osorio y Vigil, Marquis of Santa Cruz de Marcenado (1684–1732) – long considered to be a proyectista – and his appeal to the Spanish Republic of Letters to assist him in his project for a universal dictionary; an enterprise that predated Chamber’s Cyclopedia and Diderot and D’Alembert’s Encyclopédie. Marcenado’s contributions to the establishment of Spanish intellectual connections with foreign thinkers were, moreover, symptomatic of the political approach of early eighteenth-century ilustrados – transterritorial, transnational, and transversal thinkers who drew on the peninsula’s ties with the Flanders and Italy to revitalise the intellectual life of Spain. These thinkers recovered the study of Muslim Spain, and envisioned the establishment of councils and academies in Mexico and Peru. The Spanish Enlightenment, then, originated in the early eighteenth-century from their rediscovery of the Spanish Republic of Letters.

ABSTRACT This article provides a reappraisal of the political and intellectual uses of the memory of the rump Habsburg Monarchy in eighteenth-century Spain. Drawing on newly discovered archival material, this article recovers the impact of Habsburg Spain on the political imaginary of early eighteenth-century Spanish reformers and political economists, and unearths the legal debates of the 1741 Imperial Diet Election concerning Philip V’s claim to the Austrian Habsburg throne. This reconsideration sheds light on the origins of the early Spanish Enlightenment, and emphasises the centrality of the debates of those political economists, jurists, ministers, who propelled Enlightenment reforms in early eighteenth-century Spain.

Perceived threats to established social order can influence the willingness of those in authority to inflict punishments as well as the severity of those punishments. Our article explores that proposition in the case of summary punishment by flogging in the Royal Navy. In the Royal Navy commanders were given the power to inflict flogging for a host of offenses. Prevailing penal thinking emphasized general deterrence, whereby punishment of a few serious offenders would deter the body of seamen. Eighteenth-century reforms were intended to rationalize and normalize flogging and limit its severity. Qualitative evidence indicates that naval commanders saw the established order under attack after 1789 and, emphasizing moral offenses, imposed tighter discipline on their crews. The evidence we have assembled based on a randomly selected sample of ships between 1740 and 1820 shows that flogging aboard ships was moderate up until the “Age of Revolution” that began after 1789 but increased dramatically in its frequency and severity in the wake of the French Revolution. Multivariate analysis shows that greater penal severity is associated with several factors, including a period effect associated with the onset of the revolutionary age. Our findings are consistent with existing research that suggests that disorder influences the willingness to punish.

Drawing upon current studies of disability and Romanticism, this essay invites literary historians to consider the ways impairment intersects with poverty and age in the Romantic era, as well as the ways in which late eighteenth-century reform writers sought to prevent disability even as they helped constitute it as a category of difference. The essay uses William Godwin’s Fleetwood or the New Man of Feeling (1805) as a case study to explore the history of the factory reform act from a disability studies perspective. The Factory Reform Act of 1802 sought to protect child laborers from environmental and occupational impairment, though it ultimately failed to do so effectively. I argue that William Godwin’s Fleetwood (1805) criticized the Factory Act of 1802 by demonstrating the inability of its educational provision to protect children from neurological impairments resulting from factory labor.

Reviewed by: Mediterranean Enlightenment: Livornese Jews, Tuscan Culture, and Eighteenth-Century Reform by Francesca Bregoli Joshua Teplitsky Francesca Bregoli. Mediterranean Enlightenment: Livornese Jews, Tuscan Culture, and Eighteenth-Century Reform. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2014. Pp 360. Cloth $65. ISBN: 9780804786508. In Mediterranean Enlightenment, Francesca Bregoli examines the impact of state policy and Enlightenment thought on the Jews of Livorno and their communal administration in the eighteenth century. Studying the Enlightenment both as an intellectual project of a Republic of Letters and a political program of state administrators can be vexing: each belongs to a different set of historical actors whose unity sometimes comes only from their contemporaneity. This problem is attenuated further when treating both what others say about Jews and how Jews themselves behaved. Bregoli addresses this challenge by following the lead of Franco Venturi, the mid-twentieth-century scholar who characterized the Italian Enlightenment as marked by “a will to reform.” Bregoli extends the concept of reform to the domains of both intellectual and political life, thereby treating disparate elements of Jewish political, intellectual, and cultural life. Such an approach enables a multifaceted view of Livornese Jewry; each chapter in the book treats a different sector of Livornese Jewish society and examines the way individuals and institutions engaged with, accommodated themselves to, and even rejected the Tuscan spirit of reform. The book moves from intellectual ideals to political realities, beginning with Jewish students of Enlightenment thought in non-Jewish contexts, then exploring the behavior of those students in a Jewish milieu, and finally, turning to the institutions that governed Jewish social life in the everyday. Bregoli shows that Jews participated in Italian intellectual life, albeit in a way markedly different from their Jewish counterparts in either the German public sphere or the earlier Italian Renaissance. Men like Joseph Attias and his peers Angelo de Soria, Joseph Vita Castelli, and Graziadio Bondi did not clamor for an integrated curriculum for Jews consisting of Jewish and secular studies like the men of the German Haskalah. Rather, late-eighteenth century Jewish intellectuals eschewed the harmonizing tendencies of the “Italian Jewish rabbi-doctor” of the Renaissance, and adopted a stance of careful “compartmentalization,” in which they downplayed their Judaism when operating in the wider (non-Jewish) Republic of Letters. In Bregoli’s reading, the Jewish doctors of the Livornese Enlightenment partitioned off their Jewishness when engaging in “gentile” branches of knowledge. This manifested both in terms of the methods of study, including studying “Hebraic culture from a critical [End Page 193] perspective that echoed the studies of contemporary Christian orientalists,” (69–70) as well as their cultivation of scholarly personas according to models that highlighted their participation in the reformist energies of the Tuscan state (101–103). Bregoli then explores varying configurations of state involvement in Jewish activity through studies of Jewish confraternities, coffee houses, the publishing industry, and ultimately the “Jewish question” in electoral politics. She argues that the compartmental approach of Jews to reform can also been discerned in the relative stasis of the structures of Jewish communal life. This posture was nurtured by Tuscan “communitarian cosmopolitanism” that relied upon separation between corporate groups in the city, rather than the dissolution of corporatism in the face of an equalizing absolutist state. Thus coffee houses and other spaces of leisure had a “national” inflection and purpose, rather than the all-embracing model proffered by the Habermasian vision of a public sphere. In Livorno, confraternities that tended to the poor and infirm maintained their structures without registering the impact of Tuscan reformism. On the other hand, as the century proceeded, the state began to turn its energies toward the dismantling of economic protectionism, which made itself strongly felt in the business of Jewish book-printing—an industry of economic significance, and therefore worthy of the involved attention of the state. Jewish entrepreneurs invited the intervention of the state in the face of Jewish communal oversight and regulation—a tension that reveals the competition between communal ideals and individual realities. This tension between individuals and the leadership of the community further challenges a neat notion of separatism, and adds complexity to the narrative. Given such a broad range in its treatment of...

This study examines the continuities that can be found within the Spanish taxation system during the eighteenth century. Despite the War of the Spanish Succession and the Nueva Planta, the Bourbons did not abolish the taxation system inherited from the Habsburgs, but tried as far as possible to improve it. On the other hand, an examination of the eighteenth century reforms applied to economy and taxation allows the wider question of the roots of the Iberian Ilustración to be tackled from an original perspective. It stands to reason that the Ilustración was the result of the confluence of a plurality of traditions, currents of thought and branches of knowledge, old and new. Prominent among these were the proyectismo heir to the seventeenth-century arbitrismo; the persistent regalist tradition revitalized by the reforming trends within Catholicism ; natural law; and, lastly, political (or “civil”) economy, the scientific and academic status of which was defined precisely during the reign of Charles III thanks to the Sociedades Económicas de Amigos del País and the creation of the first university chairs in Saragossa. This (and other) theoretical systems were combined and hybridized by the ilustrados according to their political struggle and related reformatory planning – which was sometimes confused, but at other times was more coherent and effective: the aim was to correct some of the most evident injustices in the coeval class-based society. The vitality of the debates on the fiscal reform shows that a sector of the Spanish ruling classes tried to change the Old Regime society from the top, keenly aware of the link between the reform of the agrarian world and the shift of the levy from indirect taxes (excise taxes and customs duties) to direct ones weighing on real estate and incomes in general. If eventually the last generation of ilustrados (including the pro-Bonapartist afrancesados) and the first generation of Spanish liberals failed in the objective of strengthening the class of small landowners and tenants to whom they wanted to entrust the re-launch of the Iberian economy, this was the result of the capacity for resistance of the privileged classes, who proved to be refractory to change.

Slavery and Sin: The Fight Against Slavery and the Rise of Liberal Protestantism. By Molly Oshatz. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012. Pp. 183. Cloth, $49.95.)Reviewed by Margaret AbruzzoMolly Oshatz's Slavery and Sin begins with the dilemma facing Protestants: Although they believed slavery was wrong, they could not easily denounce it as a sin in itself because the Bible, far from explicitly condemning slavery, seemed to support it. If, as Mark Noll demonstrated, the intractability of the biblical debate precipitated a theological crisis, Oshatz shows how this crisis inspired creativity. Oshatz studies a handful of antislavery including William Ellery Channing, Horace Bushnell, Francis Wayland, Leonard Bacon, and Edward Beecher, who were caught between proslavery polemicists who insisted that the Bible supported slavery and abolitionists who either discarded biblical testimony or unconvincingly argued that it condemned slavery. Torn between their rejection of slavery and faith in the Bible, moderates were pushed into concluding that morality took shape historically through human experience. God's wall was not only declared in the Bible's words, but was progressively revealed through time and the experience of believers.By historicizing morality and revelation, moderates helped create postwar theological liberalism. While historians have previously suggested links between and the rise of liberal theology, Oshatz traces those connections, adding nuance by arguing that moderates, not abolitionists, contributed most directly to theological liberalism; abolitionism fed into the moral absolutism of fundamentalism, free thought, or secularism.The crisis grew out of antebellum debates over whether slavery was sinful in itself. Earlier generations, she suggests, avoided the dilemma; eighteenth-century reformers condemned slavery's immorality without denning slavery as a sin in itself. Instead, they attacked the slave trade, condemned slavery's racism or incompatibility with republicanism, or argued that American slavery did not meet the criteria for lawful servitude. Such arguments, however, became irrelevant (42) in the polarized antebellum debate. Antislavery moderates criticized slavery's abuses but, Oshatz contends, their arguments failed because abolitionists and slaveholders focused the debate on slavery's inherent sinfulness. Slavery's defenders thus did not need to justify its practices; they just needed to prove that slavery was not in itself sinful - which it could not be if the Bible tolerated it. Moderates were thus pushed into theological innovation: Over time, moral progress revealed slavery's wrongness, but the South's slower progress prevented many slaveholders from recognizing slavery's sinfulness. Thus, while slavery was a sin, not all slaveholders were sinners, a significant distinction.Calling all slaveholders sinners meant breaking fellowship with - and excommunicating - unrepentant slaveholders (as abolitionists demanded). Oshatz insightfully shows these tensions in a chapter on the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, whose missions to the Cherokees and Choctaws sparked a fierce debate. Abolitionists demanded that the Board denounce slavery and exclude slaveholders; the Board's moderates called for patience with slaveholders. Moderates developed the notion of the social sin, concluding that, unlike individual sins of drunkenness, theft, or fornication, the sin of slavery grew organically in society and could not be fully attributed to individuals. …

This book tracks New Spain's mendicant orders past their so-called golden age of missions into the ensuing centuries and demonstrates that they had equally crucial roles in what Melvin terms the consolidation of cities. Beginning in the late sixteenth century, cities became home to the majority of friars and to the orders' wealthiest houses, and mendicants became deeply embedded in urban social and cultural life. Friars ministered to urban residents of all races and social standings and engaged in traditional mendicant activities, serving as preachers, confessors, spiritual directors, alms collectors, educators, scholars, and sponsors of charitable works. Each order brought to this work a distinct identity that informed people's beliefs and shaped variations in the practice of Catholicism. Contrary to prevailing views, mendicant orders flourished during the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, and even the eighteenth-century reforms that ended this era were not as devastating as has been assumed.Even in the face of new institutional challenges, the demand for their services continued through the end of the colonial period, demonstrating the continued vitality of baroque piety.

Click to increase image sizeClick to decrease image size Acknowledgements This article grew out of a paper, ‘La ciudad dividida: el plano de Alzate y la ideología urbana de la ciudad de México,’ presented at the Reunión de Historiadores de México, Estados Unidos y Canadáin Santiago de Querétaro, Querétaro, October, 2010. The author thanks Dorothy Tanck de Estrada for inviting her to join her panel; Roberto Mayer offered invaluable help with research as did Linda Arnold; also of benefit were conversations with Jordana Dym, Jorge Gómez-Tejada, Luis Granados, Dorothy Tanck de Estrada and comments from two anonymous reviewers; any errors are the responsibility of the author. All translations are the author's, unless noted in the text. Abbreviations: AGI: Archivo General de Indias, Seville AGN: Archivo General de la Nación, México. Notes 1. The viceroy's demand for the plano is to be found in AGN Civil, vol. 1496, f. 166; more details on the commission are recorded on a manuscript map of 1750, now in the AGI, which states that it is a copy ‘del original que de orden del Excmo. Sr. Virrey de esta Nueva España demarcó Don José de Villaseñor y Sánchez, contador de los Reales Azogues’ (AGI, Mapas y Planos, México 178, listed as number 6 in Toussaint et al. 1990, 26). The original (which I have not found) was ‘remitido por la Sala de Crimen de México con expediente sobre la división de la Ciudad en cuarteles para las rondas.’ For more on Villaseñor's maps, see Carrera 2011 Carrera Magali Marie. . 2011 . Traveling from New Spain to Mexico: Mapping practices of nineteenth-century Mexico . Durham : Duke University Press . [Google Scholar], 50–56. 2. See Mapoteca Orozco y Berra, Joseph Antonio de Villaseñor, Mapa de la muy noble leal y imperial ciudad de México, 1753; 35×45 cm; they have another of the same author and date measuring 44×59. In the list Toussaint compiled, it is number 7 (Toussaint et al. 1990, 26). 3. AGN Historia, vol. 74, f. 13v, 14 March 1791. Copies of some of the correspondence between Alzate and the Conde de Revillagigedo about the creation of a new census for Mexico City are included in ‘Orden, Discursos y Providencias de Gobierno respectivos a ambas Américas,’ vol. 22, Biblioteca Nacional de México, Fondos Reservados, Indias, Cedulario, t. 22, Ms. [454], 1391. This volume also contains other works by Alzate: ‘Reflexiones a cerca de la limpieza de la cuidad’ (ff. 63–67), ‘Observaciones económicas sobre la limpia de las basuras en la ciudad de México’ (ff. 77–89), and ‘Releflexiones a cerca de la construción de las faroles …’ (ff. 91–98). 4. AGN Historia, vol. 74, exp. 1, f. 22r. 5. The Herrera map that Alzate cites may be related to the 1737 oil on canvas map of Mexico City by don Pedro de Arrieta, and among others, Josef Eduardo de Herrera, now held by Museo Nacional de la Historia (Maza and Ortiz Macedo 2008). 6. This may be either the finished Pedro de Arrieta map of 1737, or else a relative of the cuartel maps of the city, made in 1750–1752, now in the AGN which are on parchment. 7. This map, now in the collection of the Museo Nacional de Historia, Mexico, is titled Plano de la Imperial corte de México excrupulosamente levantado a plancheta por el ingeniero ordinario, don Nicolás de Lafora y el capitán de Infantería Walona de Flandes, don Alejandro Dalcourt por mandato del Exmo. Sr. Virrey Marqués de Croix, el año de 1770. 8. The correspondence is contained in AGN Historia, vol. 74, exp. 1. 9. Ignacio Castera, Plano Geometrico de la Imperial, Noble y Leal Ciudad de Mexico teniendo por extremo la Zanja y Garitas de Resguardo de la Real Aduana, sacado del orden del Señor don Francisco Leandro de Viana, Conde de Tepa. This map was surveyed in 1776 but not engraved and published (in Madrid by López) until 1785. It measures 79×96 cm, and a copy is held by the Museo Franz Mayer. See Trabulse (in Mayer 1998, 73). The original, or one of the original manuscripts, is held in the Hispanic Society of America, entitled, Plano Ignografico de la noblissima Ciudad de Mexico of 1776–1778. It is reproduced in Burke (1998 Burke, Marcus. 1998. Treasures of Mexican colonial painting: The Davenport Museum of Art Collection, Santa Fe: Museum of New Mexico Press. [Google Scholar], 84). 10. In addition, Alzate, in 1792, drew up four ‘planos formados’ which were meant ‘para averiguar la población de México’ which he submitted to Viceroy Revillagigedo. I have not located these plans.

What are the roots of today's militant fundamentalism in the Muslim world? In this insightful and wide-ranging history, Charles Allen finds an answer in an eighteenth-century reform movement of Muhammed ibn Abd al-Wahhab and his followers-the Wahhabi-who sought the restoration of Islamic purity and declared violent jihad on all who opposed them. The Wahhabi teaching spread rapidly-first throughout the Arabian Peninsula, then to the Indian subcontinent, where a more militant expression of Wahhabism flourished. The ranks of today's Taliban and al-Qaeda are filled with young men trained in Wahhabi theology. God's Terrorists sheds much-needed light on the origins of modern terrorism and shows how this dangerous ideology lives on today.

Samuel Richardson designed, composed and published Clarissa in the shadow of the failed 1745 Jacobite uprising; the fate of his villain, Lovelace, is intricately connected to the fortunes of the Jacobite prince. Charles Edward Stuart does not haunt the margins of Clarissa as he does Tom Jones, but the novel, like Fielding's, is designed to rout the Young Pretender. Clarissa works more allusively than Tom Jones, casting the struggle between Stuart pretensions and the Georgian establishment in terms of rival cultural productions rather than rivals: Richardson pits the theater against the novel, Lovelace versus Clarissa. Rather than focusing narrowly on gender, I argue that Clarissa's crisis can be best expressed in terms of genre, as the mid-eighteenth century found the Georgian novel struggling for legitimacy, demanding the cultural respect and ideological power the Restoration had accorded to the theater. This generic tension means that play becomes an immensely overfreighted term in Richardson's text: it denotes Lovelace's amorous intentions, his sexual play; gambling, or deep play; and his plot against the entire Harlowe family, which he styles the playing out of his revenge. Play also and primarily means drama. The novel's biggest play is the Restoration drama Lovelace has been composing since his character's introduction, for Lovelace embodies an ideologically and aesthetically corrupt genre; he is a product of the heroic mode that Stuart apologists like John Dryden used to celebrate absolutism and Stuart Restoration. The surprising early successes of the recent Jacobite rebellion, coupled with the personal charisma of Bonnie Prince Charlie, who was still at large, demonstrated the continued appeal of the Stuart aesthetic and ideology.' The Georgian establishment reacted to the events of 1745-46 by systematically extirpating every last vestige of Jacobitism. Clarissa is part of that reaction. Richardson's novels, like his conduct manuals, are overtly concerned with the improvement of morals and manners. But unlike the Society for the Reformation of Manners and other, similar, eighteenth-century reform movements, Richardson directs his attention to words rather than deeds. The Familiar Letters

The subject of this study is a corpus of twenty-nine fables written in Scots and published in Edinburgh by Allan Ramsay between 1722 and 1730. Apart from a six-line fragment in one of his MS notebooks, they represent his total known output in this form. As they appeared at a time when the fable form was enjoying considerable popularity throughout Europe, and at an important stage in its development, one would expect them to be more familiar texts than they are.1 However, the complex bibliographical history of Ramsay's works, reflecting as it does his habit of 'gathering up' his stocks of printed sheets to compose heteroclite volumes, has meant that his contribution to the redefinition of the fable form has gone largely unnoticed owing to its physical dispersion, unhappily reproduced in the sole modern edition of his Works.2 In addition, most of his fables are translations or imitations, and the status of such literary objects has tended to be even humbler than that of the fable itself. Finally, being expressed in what Ramsay called 'Braid Scots',3 i.e. double-dutch as far as the mainstream of European criticism is concerned, his fables have been overshadowed by those written in 'major' languages such as English, French, and German. The purpose of this article is to show that these poems, perceived as a coherent poetic statement at the forefront of early eighteenth-century European literary exchange and reform, deserve more historical and critical attention than they have received.4 None of Ramsay's fables can have been composed after 1729, when the last of them appeared in print for the first time. It is unlikely that any were written before 1720, when Ramsay brought out several 'gather-up' volumes, none of which contain any fables, or even 1721, when he published a subscription edition of his Poems also devoid of fables. Examination of the main MS source, whose leaves are out of order and incomplete, reveals a cluster of six fable drafts on or around leaves containing pieces dated 1722, including one not printed until 1728.5 Further, eight of the thirteen fables in the 1722 collection are not (or are

How can the study of experiences of workers in previous free-trade regimes inform scholars about the likely outcomes for labor in today's market reforms? This article explores labor during the second of four distinct periods of trade reform, that of the late eighteenth century. Tighter integration of Latin America into the world economy resulted in the enlarged demand for labor, the highest slave imports in the colonial period, a resurgence of forced labor mechanisms, and proletarianization. However, workers also influenced the expanding economy. They pressed for higher wages, resisted work discipline, and eventually contributed to the end of export expansion by attacking plantations during the Independence Wars. The article also compares the eighteenth century reforms to the current ones, explaining why unemployment is more widespread today.