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My dissertation analyzes how eighteenth-century novels were still invested in the continuation of the romance and need to be read in the historical context of English interactions with other cultures, in particular those of the Ottoman Empire. Chapter One sets up the racial model of romance and demonstrates how it fit into English politics by contrasting the reinterpretations of Aphra Behn's Oroonoko (1688) throughout the eighteenth century as the protagonist's cultural affiliations shifts from Islamic to "pagan" African as the prose narrative's use of romance tropes to support Behn's royalist politics is replaced, eventually leading to the narrative's association with the abolition of the transatlantic slave trade. Chapter Two shifts to the establishment of the "Arabick Interest" in Restoration and early eighteenth- century England by examining the contesting reactions to the influence of Islam on English identity through its analysis of England's translations between 1671 and 1708 of the philosophical romance Muhammad Ibn Tufayl's Hayy Ibn Yaqzan as well as the anxieties causes by a Protestant -Islamic connection in Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe (1719). The second half of this dissertation adds the discussion of women as another "third term" like romance and Islamic influence. Chapter Three's discussion of Samuel Johnson's Rasselas (1759) and Charlotte Lennox's The Female Quixote (1752) both use romance elements to reference an older form of history writing, one in which the boundaries between romance and fact are porous, to critique English concepts of difference, especially those of gender or culture, in favor of a more universalized view of the world. Their works responded to a mid eighteenth-century shift as England began to emerge as a global power. Chapter Four combines the elements of race, religion and gender from the preceding chapters in its reading of Charlotte Dacre's Zofloya (1806), of which I argue that even though she does not explicitly argue for increased legal rights or social freedoms for women, Dacre's presentations of the dangers to society through its enforcement of feminine passivity implicitly demonstrates a need to create a society where women are educated to be free subjects and independent of patriarchal control

This essay argues that the emotional rhetoric of today's breast cancer discourse—with its emphasis on stoicism and 'positive thinking' in the cancer patient, and its use of sympathetic feeling to encourage charitable giving—has its roots in the long 18th century. While cancer had long been connected with the emotions, 18th-century literature saw it associated with both 'positive' and 'negative' feelings, and metaphors describing jealousy, love and other sentiments as 'like a cancer' were used to highlight the danger of allowing feelings—even benevolent or pleasurable feelings—to flourish unchecked. As the century wore on, breast cancer in particular became an important literary device for exploring the dangers of feeling in women, with writers of both moralising treatises and sentimental novels connecting the growth or development of cancer with the indulgence of feeling, and portraying emotional self-control as the only possible form of resistance against the disease. If, as Barbara Ehrenreich suggests, today's discourse of 'positive thinking' has been mobilised to make patients with breast cancer more accepting of their diagnosis and more cooperative with punitive treatment regimens, then 18th-century fictional exhortations to stay cheerful served similarly conservative political and economic purposes, encouraging continued female submission to male prerogatives inside and outside the household.

From the perspective of cultural ecology, this paper discusses the influence of enlightenment on English literature in the eighteenth century and analyzes the emotional expression in English literature in the 18th century.

It is now more than thirty-five years since Sir Lewis Namier gave his famous shot in the arm to the study of the parliamentary politics of the 18th century. Under his impact, the great Tory and Whig monoliths have been effectively dethroned and their places taken by 'connections' and 'groups', by 'ins' and 'outs' – and among the 'outs' the 'loyal', or sometimes 'factious', opposition. But Namier's preoccupations, and the enthusiasm they inspired, far from stimulating research into the whole field of political action, have rather had the effect of confining its operation to Parliament alone. Hence, the unofficial opposition – that of the 'political nation' without-doors – has tended to be neglected. Yet, in this more spontaneous, unofficial opposition from 'without doors', it is instructive to see the way in which different actions, starting in different quarters of the community converge for more or less brief periods and exert a common pressure. Anomic and associational movements, social protest and political demands, well-organized and clear-sighted interest groups and 'directaction' crowds, leaders and followers come together in a chorus of united opposition, in which, however, the individual parts can still be distinguished and identified.

AbstractThis article uses data from 28 poll books to explore voter behaviour over time in early 18th‐century English parliamentary elections (from 1710 to 1735). Voters in this period exhibited a high degree of partisan loyalty from one election to the next. But voters were also quite likely to drop out of the electorate between elections. As a case study of Sussex elections in 1734 shows, even among voters who made a definite promise to vote for a given candidate or set of candidates, there was a significant proportion who did not vote. While some non‐voting can be explained as an attempt to avoid disobliging powerful patrons, this article argues that voters needed to be motivated to appear at the polls. The electoral culture of the early 18th century – treats, balls, public appearances by the candidates, etc. – should be understood as attempts to mobilise rather than to persuade potential voters.

The development of English literature in the eighteenth century was strongly influenced by France and French writers. Lately there has been an attempt to belittle the French influences. It is true that in the past the Gallic influence has been exaggerated, but it really cannot be overlooked. Historically it is true to treat England and France as one country in respect to their literary activity between the middle of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Roughly, there were about 100 years, between the execution of Charles I in 1649 and the execution of Louis XIV in 1793, during which there was a solid block of Franco-British or Anglo-French literary achievement. The Civil War in England gave the English political exiles in Paris a chance to acquire French taste, but this Entente Litteraire was ended when the French Revolution through Trafalgar and Waterloo caused a revulsion from the French example.

From the age of Louis XIV to the Jacobin Revolution, the French eighteenth century is often portrayed as dreaming an enduring dream of unity. A great deal of administrative and intellectual energy was spent in attempting to unify the territory under one king, the people under one law, the beliefs under one God, the artists under one academy, the warring European nations under one scheme of perpetual peace, the branches of knowledge under one encyclopaedic tree, the erring variety of customs and superstitions under one ideal of universal rationality, and the annoying diversity of idioms (regional or national) under one standardized and unifying language - the Parisian French spoken at the Court, regulated by the official Academy, and blessed by the one King (anointed by true God). What was a mere fantasy in 1700 appeared to have become a historical reality by the end of the century: in a global survey which anticipates (in a euphoric mode) our current anxieties about cultural homogenization among world cultures, Louis-Antoine Caraccioli explained in L'Europe française ou Paris modèle des nations (French Europe or Paris as a model of nations, 1776) that everyone in Europe ate, drank, dressed, spoke, read, socialized, and thought in the same (French) fashion. Nicolas Baudeau, one of the early Economists who, also in the 1770s, claimed the universal and "natural" validity of free-market mechanisms, demonstrated to a young aristocratic lady that, looking no further than her lunch table, she could find the obvious proof of an already-globalized world-market, which satisfied her daily needs (and whims) by bringing her wheat from Poland, porcelain from China, spoons made from Peruvian iron, and sugar cultivated in Haiti by slaves dragged out of Africa. By the time Napoleon conquered most of continental Europe and divided it into quasi-French departments, the "Grand Design" of political unification dreamt by Henry IV and his minister Sully (revived by the Abbé de Saint-Pierre around 1713, and revisited by Rousseau in the 1750s) briefly appeared on the verge of a lasting triumph.

From the age of Louis XIV to the Jacobin Revolution, the French eighteenth century is often portrayed as dreaming an enduring dream of unity. A great deal of administrative and intellectual energy was spent in attempting to unify the territory under one king, the people under one law, the beliefs under one God, the artists under one academy, the warring European nations under one scheme of perpetual peace, the branches of knowledge under one encyclopaedic tree, the erring variety of customs and superstitions under one ideal of universal rationality, and the annoying diversity of idioms (regional or national) under one standardized and unifying language - the Parisian French spoken at the Court, regulated by the official Academy, and blessed by the one King (anointed by true God). What was a mere fantasy in 1700 appeared to have become a historical reality by the end of the century: in a global survey which anticipates (in a euphoric mode) our current anxieties about cultural homogenization among world cultures, Louis-Antoine Caraccioli explained in L'Europe française ou Paris modèle des nations (French Europe or Paris as a model of nations, 1776) that everyone in Europe ate, drank, dressed, spoke, read, socialized, and thought in the same (French) fashion. Nicolas Baudeau, one of the early Economists who, also in the 1770s, claimed the universal and "natural" validity of free-market mechanisms, demonstrated to a young aristocratic lady that, looking no further than her lunch table, she could find the obvious proof of an already-globalized world-market, which satisfied her daily needs (and whims) by bringing her wheat from Poland, porcelain from China, spoons made from Peruvian iron, and sugar cultivated in Haiti by slaves dragged out of Africa. By the time Napoleon conquered most of continental Europe and divided it into quasi-French departments, the "Grand Design" of political unification dreamt by Henry IV and his minister Sully (revived by the Abbé de Saint-Pierre around 1713, and revisited by Rousseau in the ...

From the age of Louis XIV to the Jacobin Revolution, the French eighteenth century is often portrayed as dreaming an enduring dream of unity. A great deal of administrative and intellectual energy was spent in attempting to unify the territory under one king, the people under one law, the beliefs under one God, the artists under one academy, the warring European nations under one scheme of perpetual peace, the branches of knowledge under one encyclopaedic tree, the erring variety of customs and superstitions under one ideal of universal rationality, and the annoying diversity of idioms (regional or national) under one standardized and unifying language - the Parisian French spoken at the Court, regulated by the official Academy, and blessed by the one King (anointed by true God). What was a mere fantasy in 1700 appeared to have become a historical reality by the end of the century: in a global survey which anticipates (in a euphoric mode) our current anxieties about cultural homogenization among world cultures, Louis-Antoine Caraccioli explained in L'Europe française ou Paris modèle des nations (French Europe or Paris as a model of nations, 1776) that everyone in Europe ate, drank, dressed, spoke, read, socialized, and thought in the same (French) fashion. Nicolas Baudeau, one of the early Economists who, also in the 1770s, claimed the universal and "natural" validity of free-market mechanisms, demonstrated to a young aristocratic lady that, looking no further than her lunch table, she could find the obvious proof of an already-globalized world-market, which satisfied her daily needs (and whims) by bringing her wheat from Poland, porcelain from China, spoons made from Peruvian iron, and sugar cultivated in Haiti by slaves dragged out of Africa. By the time Napoleon conquered most of continental Europe and divided it into quasi-French departments, the "Grand Design" of political unification dreamt by Henry IV and his minister Sully (revived by the Abbé de Saint-Pierre around 1713, and revisited by Rousseau in the 1750s) briefly appeared on the verge of a lasting triumph.

From the age of Louis XIV to the Jacobin Revolution, the French eighteenth century is often portrayed as dreaming an enduring dream of unity. A great deal of administrative and intellectual energy was spent in attempting to unify the territory under one king, the people under one law, the beliefs under one God, the artists under one academy, the warring European nations under one scheme of perpetual peace, the branches of knowledge under one encyclopaedic tree, the erring variety of customs and superstitions under one ideal of universal rationality, and the annoying diversity of idioms (regional or national) under one standardized and unifying language - the Parisian French spoken at the Court, regulated by the official Academy, and blessed by the one King (anointed by true God). What was a mere fantasy in 1700 appeared to have become a historical reality by the end of the century: in a global survey which anticipates (in a euphoric mode) our current anxieties about cultural homogenization among world cultures, Louis-Antoine Caraccioli explained in L'Europe française ou Paris modèle des nations (French Europe or Paris as a model of nations, 1776) that everyone in Europe ate, drank, dressed, spoke, read, socialized, and thought in the same (French) fashion. Nicolas Baudeau, one of the early Economists who, also in the 1770s, claimed the universal and "natural" validity of free-market mechanisms, demonstrated to a young aristocratic lady that, looking no further than her lunch table, she could find the obvious proof of an already-globalized world-market, which satisfied her daily needs (and whims) by bringing her wheat from Poland, porcelain from China, spoons made from Peruvian iron, and sugar cultivated in Haiti by slaves dragged out of Africa. By the time Napoleon conquered most of continental Europe and divided it into quasi-French departments, the "Grand Design" of political unification dreamt by Henry IV and his minister Sully (revived by the Abbé de Saint-Pierre around 1713, and revisited by Rousseau in the 1750s) briefly appeared on the verge of a lasting triumph.

From the age of Louis XIV to the Jacobin Revolution, the French eighteenth century is often portrayed as dreaming an enduring dream of unity. A great deal of administrative and intellectual energy was spent in attempting to unify the territory under one king, the people under one law, the beliefs under one God, the artists under one academy, the warring European nations under one scheme of perpetual peace, the branches of knowledge under one encyclopaedic tree, the erring variety of customs and superstitions under one ideal of universal rationality, and the annoying diversity of idioms (regional or national) under one standardized and unifying language - the Parisian French spoken at the Court, regulated by the official Academy, and blessed by the one King (anointed by true God). What was a mere fantasy in 1700 appeared to have become a historical reality by the end of the century: in a global survey which anticipates (in a euphoric mode) our current anxieties about cultural homogenization among world cultures, Louis-Antoine Caraccioli explained in L'Europe française ou Paris modèle des nations (French Europe or Paris as a model of nations, 1776) that everyone in Europe ate, drank, dressed, spoke, read, socialized, and thought in the same (French) fashion. Nicolas Baudeau, one of the early Economists who, also in the 1770s, claimed the universal and "natural" validity of free-market mechanisms, demonstrated to a young aristocratic lady that, looking no further than her lunch table, she could find the obvious proof of an already-globalized world-market, which satisfied her daily needs (and whims) by bringing her wheat from Poland, porcelain from China, spoons made from Peruvian iron, and sugar cultivated in Haiti by slaves dragged out of Africa. By the time Napoleon conquered most of continental Europe and divided it into quasi-French departments, the "Grand Design" of political unification dreamt by Henry IV and his minister Sully (revived by the Abbé de Saint-Pierre around 1713, and revisited by Rousseau in the 1750s) briefly appeared on the verge of a lasting triumph.

Abstract
This article focuses on an aspect of Pietist education that may be regarded as a reform, namely a new way of upholding the role model to educational ends – or, more simply put, of teaching by example. This new approach to the example, according to my thesis, manifests itself in an implicit, narrative didactics of piety. This will be illustrated by reference to a popular genre of children' and young people's literature dating from the 17th and 18th centuries, namely 'exemplary children's stories' (Kinderexempelgeschichten). Such stories consist of biographical model narratives concerning exemplary pious boys and girls. To demonstrate how this implicit, religious didactic was made explicit, I draw on the text 'Christliche Lebens=Regeln' (Christian Rules of Life), which was especifically conceived as a systematic elucidation of exemplary stories.