Liberty as Independence

It is now over thirty years since I was an undergraduate. Even so I remember clearly how impressed I was by Quentin Skinner's ability to fill a large lecture theatre at 9am on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings for his lectures on Liberty. It was clear why he succeeded in doing so; his lectures were rich, thought-provoking, and eloquent.

Skinner's most recent book, Liberty as Independence: The Making and Unmaking of a Political Ideal marks the culmination of almost four decades of his thinking about the topic (though, of course, he has written on many other subjects in the meantime). This blogpost offers my reflections on a recent symposium to celebrate the book, that took place at Cambridge University

The idea of liberty as independence is grounded in the crucial distinction, set out in the Digest of Roman law, between a freeman and a slave. A slave is understood as being dependent on the will of their master and, therefore, constantly subject to that person's arbitrary will, whether or not they are physically constrained. By contrast, a freeman is not dependent on the arbitrary will of anyone else. In political terms, this requires living under the rule of law and having some input into the making of those laws. This understanding of liberty contrasts with what we might think of as the modern 'liberal' view, by which it is defined as an absence of impediments or restraint

Liberty as independence was initially closely linked to the Roman republican tradition - indeed it has often been labelled 'republican liberty'. Yet, as Liberty as Independence articulates, it was broader than that. In the first place, many of its advocates also incorporated into their thinking a crucial element of what Eric Nelson has presented as an alternative Greek tradition in republican thought. From this point of view, it is important to be free not only externally from the arbitrary will of other human beings, but also internally from one's own passions. Skinner presents this in a Roman rather than a Greek guise, citing Cicero's claim that 'A free man' knows how to 'govern his affections and desires' (Quentin Skinner, Liberty as Independence, Cambridge University Press, p. 19). Skinner also clearly demonstrates that this understanding of liberty was widely adopted in early modern Europe, not just by advocates of republicanism but also by monarchomach theorists, ancient constitutionalists, and advocates of theories of natural rights - including John Locke.

Liberty as Independence focuses on Britain in the century or so between the Glorious Revolution and the American and French Revolutions, when this view of liberty was dominant. It was adopted not only by the Court Whigs (who claimed to have transformed it into a reality) but also by many of their real Whig and their Jacobite opponents. The book then examines the process by which liberty as independence came to be eclipsed by the notion of liberty as an absence of restraint. This had been articulated by Thomas Hobbes in the 1650s, but only rose to hegemonic status in the aftermath of the American and French Revolutions. The question Skinner poses at the end of the book is whether this shift marks a moral gain or a loss.

Statue of Jean-Jacques Rousseau outside the Pantheon in Paris. Image by Rachel Hammersley.

James Harris's paper at the Symposium, 'No democracy, no Liberty', centred on a fundamental tension at the heart of the idea of liberty as independence. It requires that the  people have influence on or give consent to the laws by which they are governed, implying a close link with democracy. At the same time, however, to the extent that democracy operates by majority rule, some individuals will find themselves subject to a decision with which they do not agree. And on this account of freedom, that renders them unfree. This tension was explored in Alexis de Tocqueville's writings on America - where democracy is presented as necessarily posing a threat to liberty. It was also addressed by Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who spoke of the need for individuals to be 'forced to be free' by coming to recognise the general will as their own (Jean-Jacques Rousseau, The Social Contract and other later political writings. ed. Victor Gourevitch. Cambridge University Press, 1997, p. 53). Yet neither Rousseau's squaring of the circle, nor the Anti-Federalist solution of a bill of rights, seems a satisfactory answer to the problem.

Both Jessica Patterson's paper and my own considered how the theory of liberty as independence might help us to think about the debates over citizen militias that emerged in the late eighteenth century. Jessica highlighted the importance of 1780 for the doctrine of liberty as independence. In the immediate aftermath of the Declaration of Independence - in which the colonists deployed this doctrine to justify separation from Britain - it was also used by advocates of reform in Britain and by opponents of the slave trade. It was particularly salient in the aftermath of the Gordon Riots of June 1780, which saw several days of rioting in London in opposition to the passing of the Papists Act (1778). To quell the disturbance, King George III eventually brought in 10,000 soldiers who fired on the crowd without first reading the Riot Act. While estimates vary, at least 200 people were killed and many others injured. For some at the time, including the Orientalist and reformer William Jones, this demonstrated why it was dangerous to be dependent on the arbitrary will of a ruler. In the aftermath of the Riots he published An Inquiry into the legal mode of suppressing riots with a constitutional plan for future defence, in which he argued that the solution to the threat posed to liberty by this sort of arbitrary power was to arm the citizen body. Jessica went on to highlight the influence of these ideas in the nineteenth century in the writings of Chartists, Owenites and Marxists

Sir William Jones by James Heath, after Sir Joshua Reynolds, 1799. National Portrait Gallery. NPG D36735. Reproduced under a Creative Commons Licence.

My paper too focused on citizen militias, William Jones, and his Inquiry. But where Jessica looked forward to the nineteenth century, I examined these late eighteenth-century arguments in the context of the 'Standing Army debate' of the 1690s. This was sparked by William III's decision to maintain his armed force after the Treaty of Ryswick had brought an end to the Nine Years' War. A number of real Whig commentators objected that a standing army constituted a threat to the liberty of the nation, and argued for the use of a citizen militia as a defensive force. It was these arguments that were revived by William Jones and other members of the Society for Constitutional Information in the 1780s. They reprinted several key tracts from the 1690s debate, as well as producing works of their own on the subject, including Jones's Inquiry and John Cartwright's The Commonwealth in Danger (1795). Jones, Cartwright, and others argued that ordinary citizens should be armed and trained militarily. Moreover this was presented as an essential counterpart to parliamentary reform, including the establishment of universal suffrage. This was, no doubt, an alarming prospect to many, and perhaps contributed to the displacing of liberty as independence by liberty as freedom from restraint at the end of the eighteenth century

Richard Price by Thomas Holloway after Benjamin West, 1793. National Portrait Gallery NPG D5556. Reproduced under a Creative Commons Licence.

Niall O'Flaherty's paper, 'Against Absolutism: Measuring Liberty in a Constitutional Crisis', also argued that Liberty as Independence sheds light on the political debates of the 1780s and 1790s: both by acknowledging the importance to those debates of natural jurisprudence, and by demonstrating the shared ideology of the Whigs in the eighteenth century. In addition, Niall emphasised the value of Chapter 5 of the book, which draws on novels by Henry Fielding, Samuel Richardson, and Tobias Smollett, focusing on their critiques of the unchecked power exercised by local justices. Niall argued that this highlights the importance of local government at this time, and the fact that the tyranny exercised over the poor was often discussed in political rather than moral terms. Here, the connection between the local and the national, and between the history of political thought and other branches of history, are illustrated. Niall also noted that one consequence of this broad commitment to liberty as independence was a range of views on what constituted 'arbitrary power'. Benjamin Hoadly, in the early eighteenth century, allowed a large degree of discretionary powers for the executive (as necessary to curb the Jacobite threat), whereas later figures, like Richard Price and Thomas Paine, insisted on fewer discretionary powers - or even none at all. Finally, Niall wondered about the motivations behind the shift from liberty as independence to liberty as absence of restraint, and the extent to which late eighteenth-century advocates of the neo-Hobbesian understanding of liberty were motivated by the fact that it offered a more practical means of addressing contemporary problems.

The symposium raised many topics for further exploration. One of the most important is the question of who constitutes 'the people' - i.e. those who are to enjoy independence through consenting to the laws under which they live. For some of the thinkers discussed in the book, the definition seems to be quite broad (Jones and Cartwright, for example, would have said all adult males) but for others it was restricted to those who were educated and held property. Liberty as independence, then, has the potential to be inclusive and emancipatory but it could also be deployed in a more exclusionary fashion. What are the implications of this for its adoption today? Another topic is the relationship between liberty as independence and citizen militias, questions were raised about the differences between the British and continental practices, and about whether being compelled to join a militia could be viewed as an invasion - rather than an extension - of an individual's liberty. Finally, there is perhaps more to be said about how liberty as independence might be applied to other spheres, such as the economy and personal relationships. Even though it was eclipsed by liberty as absence of restraint in the late eighteenth century, it seems that, as Quentin suggested in the conclusion to his book, it does still have 'a great deal to contribute to current debates about the improvement of our moral and political world' (pp. 276-7).

The Society for Constitutional Information

In our household we are hoping for a late election. My son turns 18 in the summer, so the timing will determine whether or not he can vote in the forthcoming general election. This approaching milestone makes my current work on citizenship education all the more pertinent. Alongside this, in my classes on early modern history at Newcastle University I have been exploring with my students the development of political institutions between 1500 and 1800. In discussing the constitutional changes that occurred during the Civil Wars, or the proposals put forward by reformers in the late eighteenth century, some students have commented that they do not feel they have a good understanding of the workings of our political system today and that school did little to prepare them for their role as adult citizens.

The members of the Society for Constitutional Information (SCI), which was established in 1780, were equally concerned about the lack of an understanding of the constitution among residents of Britain in the late eighteenth century. Of course, the circumstances then were very different. In 1780 it is estimated that only 3% of the population of the United Kingdom had the vote. Today the percentage is approximately 68%. The main activity of the SCI was to disseminate knowledge of the British constitution among the population as a means of gaining support for the campaign for parliamentary reform.

In their first Address to the Public, the Society set out the fundamental belief that underpinned their commitment to reform:

LAW, TO BIND ALL, MUST BE ASSENTED TO BY ALL (An Address to the public,

from the Society for Constitutional Information. London, 1780, p. 1).

Statue of John Cartwright in Cartwright Gardens, Bloomsbury, London. Image by Rachel Hammersley

This reflects an understanding of liberty that insists that people are free if they are subject only to laws that they (or their representatives) have made. The idea was outlined more fully in the Declaration of Rights written by one of the SCI's founding members Major John Cartwright:





Fourthly, That they who have no voice nor vote in the electing of Representatives, do

not enjoy liberty; but are absolutely enslaved to those who have votes, and to their

Representative: for to be enslaved, is to have Governors whom other men have set over

us, and to be subject to laws made by the Representatives of others, without having had

Representatives of our own to give consent in our behalf.

Fifthly, That a very great majority of the Commonalty of this Realm are denied the

privilege of voting for Representatives in Parliament; and consequently, they are

enslaved to a small number, who do now enjoy this privilege exclusively to

themselves (John Cartwright, A Declaration of the Rights of Englishmen. London, no

date, p. 2).

This reflects the concept of Neo-Roman liberty analysed by the eminent historian Quentin Skinner, which has its origins in the Roman law distinction between those who are free and those who are slaves. Judged according to this principle, the members of the SCI concluded that the vast majority of the population of the United Kingdom were not free. Indeed they went so far as to argue that a small number of individuals without 'virtue' or 'abilities' were effectively disenfranchising their electors (A Second Address to the Public from the Society for Constitutional Information. London, 1782, p. 9).

They went on to outline three reform proposals that would need to be enacted to remedy the situation. First, they called for a redistribution of parliamentary seats.

This issue was summarised in the Report of the Sub-Committee of Westminster produced in March 1780. That committee included a number of members of the SCI and its reports were printed by the SCI for distribution:

That it appears to this Sub Committee, that many towns and boroughs, formerly

intitled "for their repute and population," to send members to Parliament, have

since fallen into decay, yet continue to have a representation equal to the most

opulent counties and cities; while other towns and places, which have risen into

consideration, and become populous and wealthy, have no representatives in

Parliament (Westminster Committee. King's Arms Tavern, March 20, 1780. Report of

the Sub Committee, appointed to enquire into the state of the representation of this country.

1780, p. 2).

Nine years later, the SCI declared that their 'most immediate object' was to gather and then publish 'a compleat State of the representation of the people in Parliament' and to this end they invited people to report on the situation regarding voters and elections in their local constituencies (The National Archives: TS 11/961. SCI Minutes for Friday 29th May 1789). The results appear in one of the SCI volumes held at the National Archives.

Concern at the unequal distribution of parliamentary seats was not a new idea in the late eighteenth century. In the Agreement of the People that was presented by an alliance of soldiers and civilian radicals to the General Council of the Army at the Putney Debates in October 1647 it was asserted:

That the People of England being at this day very unequally distributed by

Counties, Cities, & Boroughs, for the election of their Deputies in Parliament, ought

to be more indifferently proportioned, according to the number of the Inhabitants:

the circumstances whereof, for number, place, and manner, are to be set down

before the end of this present Parliament. (An Agreement of the People, for a firme and

present Peace, upon grounds of Common-Right. London, 1647, p. 2).

Secondly, the SCI advocated universal manhood suffrage, which set them apart from some of the more conservative reform societies at the time. As Cartwright declared in the second article of his Declaration of Rights:

That every man of the Commonalty (excepting infants, insane persons, and

criminals) is of common right, and by the laws of God, a freeman, and entitled to the

full enjoyment of liberty. (Cartwright, A Declaration of the Rights of Englishmen, p. 1).

Universal manhood suffrage was also not a completely new idea in 1780. At the Putney Debates, Colonel Thomas Rainsborough voiced the stirring line (now recalled in a plaque in Putney Church): 'for really I thinke that the poorest hee that is in England hath a life to live as the greatest hee'. He went on:

and therfore truly, Sir, I thinke itt's cleare, that every man that is to live under a

Government ought first by his owne consent to putt himself under that

Government; and I doe thinke that the poorest man in England is nott att all bound

in a stricte sence to that Government that hee hath not had a voice to putt himself

under (The Clarke Papers, ed. C. H. Firth. London, 1992, p. 301).

Engraving of the quotation from Thomas Rainsborough in St Mary’s Church, Putney. Image from Wikimedia Commons.

In those debates the alternative view was expressed by Colonel Henry Ireton (Oliver Cromwell's son-in-law) who insisted that only those with landed property should be allowed to vote, since only they had a fixed interest in the country and could, therefore, be trusted to make decisions in the common good. The SCI turned Ireton's assumption on its head, insisting:

The poor man has an equal right, but more need, to have representatives in the

legislature than the rich one (An Address to the Public, p. 7).

The third demand made by the SCI was for more frequent - ideally annual - parliaments. Major Cartwright's Declaration asserted it is 'the right of the Commonalty of this Realm to elect a new House of Commons once in every year, according to ancient and sacred laws of the land' (Cartwright, A Declaration, p. 2). If elections were held less frequently, he argued, those people who had recently arrived in an area would be deprived of their right. Moreover, longer parliaments would be more susceptible to corruption and undue influence.

Once again the roots of this concern can be found in the seventeenth century. Between 1629 and 1640 Charles I ruled without calling parliament. In theory there was nothing wrong with this since it was up to the monarch to call Parliament when (s)he wanted (usually when they needed money). But Charles's behaviour prompted anger and when Parliament met in 1640 one of the first actions it took was to institute a Triennial Act which required Parliament to be called at least once every three years. Some at the time felt that even this did not go far enough and called for annual parliaments as a crucial mechanism to mitigate the corrupting effects of power. As John Streater explained:

A Free State, governed by Annual Representatives, is Naturally good, it cannot be bad;

for that no one can obtain in such a Government opportunity to do Hurt: and it

behoveth every one of them to do all the good they can, in regard that they must

Return to a private state and Condition, in which they shall participate and be

sharers of the good they have procured, or been parties in ordaining (J. S. [John

Streater], A Shield Against the Parthian Dart. London, 1659, pp. 16-17).

If we compare the SCI demands to how things are today, we see that one demand - universal manhood suffrage - has not only been achieved, but surpassed. Today it is not only adult men who have the vote, but women too. This is especially interesting given that this was seen as the most extreme demand in the eighteenth century and one that not all supporters of reform at that time were willing to endorse. A second demand - an equal distribution of parliamentary seats - is recognised as important and the distribution is continually updated. A local election leaflet that came through my front door this week explains:

Following a review by the Boundary Commissions, changes have been made in the

coming elections for electing your Ward Councillors and member of Parliament

(MP). The changes aim to rebalance the number of electors in each area and ensure

that they are represented effectively by the candidates you elect.

Yet the third demand - annual parliaments - has neither been put into practice, nor is widely advocated today. There are, perhaps, good reasons for this, in that annual elections would be costly and would risk encouraging even greater short-termism in politics than is currently the case. On the other hand, as the Streater quotation suggests, more frequent elections would ensure that MPs have to live under the laws they make and would strengthen the sense of their accountability to their constituents. It would also ensure that whatever is decided in the next few months, my son wouldn't have to wait another five years before being able to express his political voice in a General Election.

Political Legacies

For personal reasons the commemoration of the dead, and the legacies they leave to those who remain, have been on my mind recently. Though inheritance is usually assumed to refer to money, I am much more interested in the ideas, practices, and values that the dead bequeath to the living. Thomas Hollis is a particularly interesting case when it comes to legacies of both kinds.

Thomas Hollis by Giovanni Battista Ciprani, etching 1767. National Portrait Gallery NPG D46108. Reproduced under a Creative Commons Licence.

In my last blogpost I referred to the donation of approximately 3,000 books that Hollis sent to Harvard College in Massachusetts. Partly in recognition of this, the catalogue of the current Harvard University Library is called HOLLIS - a reference to the donations provided by the family and a convenient acronym for Harvard Online Library Information System. Hollis was not the first of his family (nor even the first with his name) to make donations to Harvard. His great grandfather - also called Thomas Hollis - founded several posts at Harvard which still bear his name, and was commemorated in a hall on campus and a street in the area.

Like his great grandfather Hollis had no children. Yet instead of passing on his inheritance via different family lines, as previous generations had done, Hollis chose to leave his own substantial fortune to his friend Thomas Brand, who subsequently styled himself Thomas Brand Hollis in recognition of the legacy.

Thomas Brand was born in Essex around 1719 (Colin Bonwick, 'Hollis, Thomas Brand, c.1719-1804, radical.' Oxford Dictionary of National Biography). Being from a dissenting family he could not attend an English University and so studied at Glasgow where he was taught by the great Francis Hutcheson and became friends with Hollis's future collaborator Richard Baron. Brand and Hollis are said to have met at the inns of court in London in the 1740s. They travelled around Europe together in 1748-9.

Hollis had always been keen to support Scottish institutions. In addition to the bequest in his will of books for Scottish University libraries, he also made donations to the Advocates Library in Edinburgh, including this copy of Henry Neville’s Plato Redivivus, or a dialogue concerning government (London, 1763). National Library of Scotland ([AD]7/1.8). It is reproduced here under a Creative Commons Licence with permission from the Library.

When Thomas Hollis died in 1774 Thomas Brand, whom Hollis described as 'my dear friend and fellow traveller', was named sole executor of his will and inherited his lands and the residue of his personal estate (The National Archives: PROB 11/994/68 'The Will of Thomas Hollis of Lincoln's Inn'). Hollis insisted on a private and modest funeral and, as was conventional, left small donations to the poor in the parishes near to his Dorset estate and money to various servants, family members, and friends, as well as to book binders, engravers, and printers with whom he had worked during his life. Hollis also continued his family's philanthropic traditions as well as those he had established during his lifetime. He pledged £300 to rebuild the almshouses that had been constructed by his great grandfather in Sheffield and £100 to the Society for Promoting Arts and Commerce in London. He also left money to be spent on books 'relating to Government or to civil or natural history or to ... Mathematics' for the university libraries at Edinburgh, Glasgow, Aberdeen, St Andrews and Dublin, as well as for the public library at Berne and the university library at Geneva, in addition to a larger donation for Harvard.

Canaletto (Giovanni Antonio Canal), A View of Walton Bridge, 1754, oil on canvas, 48.7 x 76.4 cm, DPG600. Dulwich Picture Gallery, London. With thanks to curator Lucy West for her assistance. This painting was commissioned by Thomas Hollis. It depicts Hollis himself (in the yellow coat) and his friend Thomas Brand.

As well as enacting these bequests, Thomas Brand also advanced Hollis's legacy in other ways. The two men shared a dissenting background and a commitment to political radicalism and reform. Brand Hollis was a member of several reform societies including the Revolution Society established in 1788 and the Society for Constitutional Information (SCI). He was a founder member of the SCI attending its first meeting in April 1780, often chairing sessions, and being elected President in December of that year (The National Archives: TS 11/1133).

In its purpose and activities the SCI echoed and extended Hollis's campaign to disseminate political texts and share political information. Hollis had sent copies of a wide range of works to university and public libraries in many countries. As I noted in my last blogpost, he paid particular attention to North America where his donations were explicitly designed to influence how the colonists interpreted the actions of the British government against them. In short, Hollis appears to have been seeking to rouse the Harvard students to revolutionary action by providing them with specific reading material on the nature of their rights as Englishmen and the threats posed to those rights - and therefore to their liberty - by the actions of the British government towards them. The SCI also disseminated political texts for free, this time in England. Its aim in doing so was to promote and eventually bring about political reform. The terms in which this aim was expressed were very similar to those used by Hollis in relation to the American colonists:

As every Englishman has an equal inheritance in this Liberty; and in those Laws

and that Constitution which have been provided for its defence; it is therefore

necessary that every Englishman should know what the Constitution IS; when it is

SAFE; and when ENDANGERED (An address to the public, from the Society for

Constitutional Information. London, 1780, p. 1).

There was also a similarity in the particular texts thought worthy of dissemination. At a meeting on 12th May 1780, at which Brand Hollis was present, the Society resolved to task one of its members, Capel Lofft, to:

compile a Tract or Tracts, consisting of Extracts from the

Mirror of Justices, Fleta, Bracton, Fortesquieu, Selden, Bacon,

Sir Thomas Smith, Coke, Sidney, Milton, Harrington, Nevile,

Molesworth, Bolingbroke, Price, Priestly, Blackstone, Somers,

Davenant, the Essay on the English Constitution, and other Authors

as may clearly define, or describe in few Words the English

Constitution (The National Archives: TS 11/1133).

With just two exceptions (Sir Thomas Smith and Charles Davenant), works by all of these authors had been sent by Hollis to Harvard.

As well as disseminating the texts free of charge, both Hollis and the SCI used newspapers and periodicals to advertise them and their relevance to contemporary affairs. In April 1766 Hollis inserted the following advert into the London Chronicle to alert the Corsican rebels who were drawing up a new constitution for the island - and more especially their British supporters - of the potential a particular English republican text offered them in their endeavour.

TO THE PEOPLE OF CORSICA

      FELICITY

"The Oceana of James Harrington, for practicable-

ness, equality and completeness, is the most perfect

model of a Commonwealth, that ever was delineated

by antient or modern pen (The London Chronicle, 10 April 1766).

John Somers, Baron Somers by Sir Godfrey Kneller, Bt. c.1705. National Portrait Gallery NPG 490. Reproduced under a Creative Commons Licence.

In the same vein, from Spring 1782, members of the SCI began inserting extracts from key texts into the General Advertiser. These included extracts selected by Brand Hollis from a work by John Somers, first Baron Somers (1651-1716), a notable Whig and one time Lord Chancellor. The extracts, which appeared in the General Advertiser on Monday 18 March 1782, concerned the limits of the ruler's powers and the rights of the people. Somers argued that a sovereign who invades or subverts the fundamental laws of society gives up his legal right to govern and absolves his subjects of obedience. Citing the popular phrase asserting the rights of the people salus populi, he claimed that all law and government is aimed at the public good and therefore: 'A just Governor, for the benefit of the people, is more careful of the public good and welfare, than of his own private advantage.' 'He who makes himself above all law, is no Member of a Commonwealth, but a mere tyrant whenever he pleases' and under such a magistrate the people would be justified in exercising a right of resistance. Though probably originally written in the context of the Glorious Revolution, these sentiments were meaningful to those engaged in the reform campaign and perhaps designed as a warning to George III.

There is one final more frivolous way in which Brand Hollis continued his friend's legacy. Hollis had had a curious habit of naming fields and farms on his Dorset estate at Corscombe and Halstock after thinkers, works, and places he respected. In July 1773 Hollis noted in a letter that he had named a small farm on his estate after George Buchanan 'this oldest son of liberty' (Caroline Robbins, 'Thomas Hollis in His Dorsetshire Retirement' in Absolute Liberty, ed. Barbara Taft. 1982, p. 240). Another farm of 247 acres was named after James Harrington and on that farm was a field he called Oceana after Harrington's most famous work. To the west of Harrington Farm was another called Milton Farm after John Milton, which included a field named after John Toland - who had edited both Milton's and Harrington's works. Also in the vicinity were farms named for other leading English republicans: Algernon Sidney, Edmund Ludlow, and Henry Neville.

Dorset History Centre, D1_MO_3 Plan of Harrington Farm from the Corscombe Estate Map. With thanks to the Dorset History Centre for assistance and permission.

We know that Brand Hollis was aware of Hollis's actions in this regard since a survey of the estate that Brand Hollis conducted in 1799, now held at Dorset History Centre, details the names of the various farms and fields.

Brand Hollis not only maintained and memorialised Hollis's nomenclature on his Dorset estate, he also engaged in the same practice himself - naming trees on his property at Hyde in Essex after George Washington and other heroes of the American Revolution (Bonwick, ODNB). To my mind, legacies of place names, book collections, and the values of kindness and generosity, are far more meaningful and enduring than any financial bequest - even from someone with as extensive a fortune as Thomas Hollis.