The essay attempts to recover a language of liberty, a set of assumptions common participants in the mid-seventeenth-century discourse on religion and liberty. The current historiography of seventeenth-century liberty and contemporary consensus on the complementarity civil liberty and law are used as contexts. In the religious sense, liberty was commonly taken to imply submission to the will of a God of millennial purpose and providential power. In the struggle for appropriate submission to such divine authority issues of freedom arose in the Pauline paradoxes service as perfect freedom and in the process of liberation from inappropriate authorities. The polarization of liberty and authority in traditional accounts of the puritan revolution, the reduction of religious liberty to an element within a greater struggle over constitutional forms, and the identification of religious liberty with individual and corporate rights are called in question.

This article recovers some of the classical, constitutional, and religious languages of empire in early-modern Britain by a consideration of the period between the end of the first Anglo-Dutch war in 1654 and the calling of the second Protecloral Parliament in 1656. It examines in particular the strategic and political motivationsfor CromweWs ‘western design’ against the Spanish possessions in the Caribbean and presents the response to thefailure of the design and the oppositiorud literature published around the second Protectoral Parliament as the immediate context for the publication of James Harrington's Oceana (1656). It is argued that Harrington's Machiavellian meditation on imperialism is intended as a critique of the expansion of the British republic, so placing Harrington more firmly within the oppositiorud bloc of the late Protectorate. A concluding section details the recovery of this moment of historical argument in the heat of the opposition to Sir Robert Walpole during the early stages of Anglo-Spanish hostility in 1738—9, and leads to some wider refUctions both on the ideological uses of history in the aeation of the British empire and on the centrality of the languages of empire to an understanding of Anglo-American intellectual history up to the late eighteenth century.

James II's grant of religious toleration and his invitation to the whigs to return to office dramatically changed the English political scene and created profound dilemmasfor the crown's former enemies. Although there is ambiguity in their responses, and although Locke himself remained an immovable exile, his circle offriends took advantage of these changes. This included nomination to James's proposed tolerationist parliament, an accommodation which damaged them in the actual elections to the Convention of 1689. Some took office, and in at least two cases Locke's associates published pamphlets in support of the king. By exploring the politics of the Lockean whigs a contradiction in earlier views is resolved. For whilst Richard Ashcraft has argued that Locke's circle remained unremittingly hostile to James and engaged in clandestine plotting, other sources identify the same people as among the king's ‘whig collaborators’. The chief actors in Locke's circle are Edward Clarke, Sir Walter Yonge, Richard Duke and Richard Burthogge.

This article looks at the political role of the royal prerogative to create and promote British peers in the period 1760–1784. It argues that during the first two decades of his reign George III maintained his original intention that peerage creations should befew in number and isolated from short-term political influences, but that during the prolonged political crisis that unfolded at the end of the American War of Independence, the king's power to create peers became deeply embroiled in politics. Not only were all eight of the peerages created in 1782–1783 influenced by political considerations, this aspect of the royal prerogative became itself the topic of parliamentary discussion. It was in this context of recent creations and heightened interest in the royal prerogative that George III's refusal to make peers proved to be an effective tactic in his struggle with the Fox-North coalition. Especially damaging was the coalition's inability to secure Lord North's promotion to the upper house. Once the coalition had been dismissed, George HI used his prerogative in an overtly political fashion to strengthen the younger Pitt in both houses of parliament.

In 1791, in one of the most remarkable documents penned in eighteenth-century Georgia, a group of white women petitioned for the life of a male mulatto slave who had been condemned to death not because of the offence he had committed but because of his reputation as ‘villain’. Although barely a page long, the Sunbury petition provides a fascinating statement of the racial attitudes, political consciousness and modus operandi of elite white women in early national Georgia. The women of Sunbury were articulating their understanding of the role and duties of women in the new republic. If necessary, those duties included correcting the civic behaviour of men.

Labour's victory at the general election of 1945, the first in which the party won an absolute majority in the house of commons, had fundamental implications for Britain's post-war history. Despite this, historians have failed to examine the popular political temper which made Labour's term of office possible. Instead, they have largely assumed that the Second World War radicalized the public, turning an unprecedented number into enthusiastic Labour voters. Whilst not denying that the war had a profound impact on the politics of some sections of society this article proposes a rather different perspective to that normally offered. Instead of promoting pro-Labour sentiment it seems that the conflict left many members of the public disengaged from the political process and cynical about the motives of all politicians. As a consequence, rather than have Labour hold office by itself the generally favoured outcome appears to have been the formation of a progressive coalition committed to the implementation of the Beveridge report. However, in reality, electors who did not want to see the return of a Conservative government had no choice but to vote ‘straight left’.

Although it is now recognized that the Stalin-Tito dispute was sparked off by Tito's desire to intervene decisively in the Greek civil war, the ideological context of that decision has never been fully explored. This article suggests that, since the early days of the Second World War, Tito had been committed to establishing a popular front ‘from below’, i.e. under clear communist control. He did this not only in Yugoslavia, but used his position in the war-time Comintern to persuade other communist parties to do the same. As a result he was dissatisfied with the all-party coalition governments established with Stalin's consent throughout Europe in 1945. Tito favoured a communist offensive, while Stalin, aware of the international position of the Soviet Union, favoured a more cautious approach. When Stalin summoned the first meeting of the Cominform in September 1947 and made Tito its de Facto leader, Tito mistakenly assumed he was to head a new international committed to a revolutionary offensive not only in Eastern Europe but in Greece and even Italy and France.

In the summer of 1920, as the I.R.A.'s guerrilla campaign against the Royal Irish Constabulary and the British Army approached its climax, the British government attempted to reinforce the R.I.C. by raising a force of ex-officers to act as a mobile police striking force. The new organization was called the Auxiliary Division of the R.I.C, and its members, though officially referred to as ‘cadets’, were popularly called Auxiliaries or Auxis, a denomination which suggests a kind of subconscious analogy with their I.R.A. opponents, who were generally known as ‘Volunteers’. In the subsequent mythology of the Irish ‘Troubles’ the Auxiliaries were generally lumped together with the ‘Black and Tans’ but were in fact a more elite body. The ‘Black and Tans’ were ex-servicemen recruited to serve as R.I.C. constables and initially kitted out in a motley of R.I.C. dark green and Army khaki. The Auxiliaries on the other hand were nattily dressed in tarn o'shanters, khaki tunics and puttees (or officer's gaiters) and were paid a pound a day — twice the R.I.C. constable's rate — which made them the most highly-paid uniformed force in the world at that time.1 Altogether only 2,214 were recruited (with perhaps two-thirds that number in service at the peak of the formation's strength), but they did more than their fair share to discredit the British regime in Ireland.

This paper deals with the history of French social history. Social history was not created once and for all; it is an historical construction; it had a beginning and may come to an end. Hence, its history may be written. However, two preliminary qualifications are needed. I shall not comment on ancient or medieval social history, but on the only social history which I know a little, that of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Secondly, for the same reason, I shall only discuss French social history written by French historians.