This article presents a reinterpretation of James Harrington's writings. It takes issue with J. G. A. Pocock's reading, which treats him as importing into England a Machiavellian ‘language of political thought’. This reading is the basis of Pocock's stress on the republicanism of eighteenth-century opposition values. Harrington's writings were in fact a most implausible channel for such ideas. His outlook owed much to Stoicism. Unlike the Florentine, he admired the contemplative life; was sympathetic to commerce; and was relaxed about the threat of ‘corruption’ (a concept that he did not understand). These views can be associated with his apparent aims: the preservation of a national church with a salaried but politically impotent clergy; and the restoration of the royalist gentry to a leading role in English politics. Pocock's hypothesis is shown to be conditioned by his method; its weaknesses reflect some difficulties inherent in the notion of ‘languages of thought’.

The Colony of Sierra Leone originated in settlements of freed slaves on the West African coast carried out on the initiative of British philanthropists in the later eighteenth century. For over a century, British responsibility was as far as possible restricted to the small mountainous peninsula on which Freetown stands, and to certain nearby islands; but influence was inevitably obtained over nearby coast and hinterland, and during the nineteenth century some additional territories were incorporated in the Colony, though not always brought under effective administration. In 1896 the remaining regions not conceded to be under French or Liberian influence were proclaimed a British Protectorate; which also included, for administrative purposes, certain chiefdoms formerly part of the Colony. In this period, therefore, the term ‘Colony’ is applied to the peninsula and islands originally settled, with a few predominantly tribal areas around the river Sherbro; the term ‘Protectorate’ to territories the size of Ireland, which form the great bulk of the area marked ‘Sierra Leone’ on a modern map, and whose social organization was at this time exclusively tribal. At the beginning of 1898 British officials began to collect a House Tax which had been imposed on three of the five districts of the Protectorate. In February, resistance to the tax by certain Temne chiefs developed into open warfare in the north, and at the end of April a series of savage attacks took place on British and American subjects, mostly of African birth and descent, among the Mende and Sherbro people further south. These two outbreaks constitute the insurrection to be studied in this paper.

There are several points in post-war history at which, it is argued, Britain lost an early opportunity to enter the European community. The refusals to join the Schuman Plan and Messina deliberations in the 1950s, and the failure of the E.E.C. applications of Macmillan and Wilson, are most commonly mentioned. But some commentators have pointed to another ‘missed opportunity’, following Winston Churchill's return to Downing Street in October 1951. For, in opposition, Churchill had seemed a great exponent of European unity, and several of his ministers – foremost among them the home secretary, Maxwell Fyfe, and housing minister, Harold Macmillan – had shown great enthusiasm for his ideas. Hopes that Churchill's government would favour a more positive approach to European unification were quickly disappointed, however: within weeks the foreign secretary, Anthony Eden, had ruled out any direct British role in Europe's emerging ‘supranational’ institutions, and in 1952 he defeated some determined efforts by Macmillan to change his policy. The ‘pro-Europeans’ did not forget this ‘betrayal’, however. They argued that a real opportunity to take the leadership of Europe had been lost and in the ensuing years, as Britain's failure to join the European community became more generally criticized, their thesis seemed credible. An examination of the evidence, however, allows a very different picture of this ‘missed opportunity’ to be painted.

Perceptions of the role of the book in the Reformation are shaped by our knowledge of the German print world during the first decades of Protestant expansion. All indications point to evangelical domination of the press in the years when Luther first became a public figure, when the printed book undoubtedly played a crucial role in the dissemination of the evangelical message, and printing enjoyed a period of exuberant growth. But it is by no means certain that assumptions derived from this German model hold good for other parts of Europe. This article re-examines the German paradigm of book and Reformation in the light of two recent bibliographical projects. The first, a trial survey of publishing outputs throughout Europe, demonstrates that the different regional print cultures that made up the European book world were organized in radically contrasting ways. These structural differences were highly significant from the point of view of assisting or impeding the output of controversial literature. The lessons from this survey are then applied to an individual case study, France, which, it emerges, deviated from the German model in almost every particular. Together these two sets of data force us to call into question the natural affinity between print and Protestantism suggested by the German paradigm.

This essay surveys literature on the engagement of different European empires, including the French, British, Dutch, Russian, and German, with Islam. While the history of Islam and empire has attracted the attention of scholars for decades, most of their studies have been written primarily as contributions to the historiography of a specific empire or a distinct geographic region and rarely refer to research on other imperial powers, even though the questions and themes raised are remarkably similar. The article brings together these studies, exploring the following topics: Islam and imperial rule and, in particular, the ways in which religious institutions were accommodated and controlled in the colonial state; Islam and anti-imperial resistance; and the relationship between Islam, information, and colonial knowledge. It assesses the dominant themes in the field and points to a number of questions that remain to be studied.

Following the Paris Commune of 1871, around 3,500 Communard refugees and their families arrived in Britain, with the majority settling in the capital. This article is an exploration of these exiled Communards within the geography of London. The spatial configurations of London's radical and exile communities, and the ways in which Communards interacted with those they crossed paths with, is vital in understanding how some of the ideas that came out of the Commune permeated London's radical scene. Too often British political movements, particularly British socialism, have been presented as being wilfully impervious to developments on the continent. Instead, this article argues that in order to find these often more affective and ancillary foreign influences, it is important to think spatially and trace how the exile map of London corresponded with, extended, and redrew parts of the existing radical mapping of the city. In carving out spaces for intellectual exchange, Communard refugees moved within and across various communities and physical places. The social and spatial context in which British sympathizers absorbed and appropriated ideas from the Commune is key to understanding how the exiles of the Paris Commune left their mark on the landscape, and mindscape, of London.

Since the 1960s, the politics of the period 1860 to 1906 have received much attention, particularly by historians of the Conservative party. On the whole, it has been argued that Conservative electoral success during this period was a ‘negative’ achievement. Through an examination of the election of 1895 this article questions this argument. It suggests that both the nature of the Unionists' appeal and the factors behind their performance in general elections in this period have to an extent been oversimplified since the pioneering quantitative work of James Cornford. A content analysis of Liberal and Unionist candidates' election addresses is presented in order to make sense of the issues of the campaign, full details of which can be found in the appendix to this article. The Liberal message is shown to be more coherent, and that of the Unionists more positive, than is usually assumed. Cornford's methodology is also challenged, and an alternative (and simpler) approach is suggested. It is argued that in 1895 there was in general no inverse correlation between Conservative vote and turnout, or between Conservative vote and changes to the electoral registers. And although party organization was very important to the Unionists' success there seems little evidence of any over-arching plan to keep both turnout and the number of registered electors down.

Historians have portrayed the Virginia Company and its colony, the first permanent English settlement in America, as an essentially commercial enterprise. The atmosphere of the colony is represented accordingly as one of proto-capitalist individualism. This paper shows that the Virginia Company promoters described the aims of its colony in civic terms: that is, in terms of a politics of virtue, citizenship, and the pursuit of the common good. Promoters of the colony drew on a civic tradition particularly hostile to commerce; a tradition in which wealth was portrayed as Asiatic luxury and corruption. The civic arguments of the Company were a response to the commercial and human disasters which characterized the first years of the colony and its Elizabethan predecessors. The civic ideology promoted by the Company was an attempt to remedy what were perceived to be the causes of this disastrous situation – corruption, greed, faction, and idleness. The promoters' civic arguments also provided an ideological motivation both for potential investors and colonists who might otherwise have been deterred by the financial and human expense.

This article argues that the development of teaching as a profession for women in England has often been written using an anachronistic and gendered conception of the term ‘profession’. A closer examination of the work of middle-class schoolmistresses in the first part of the nineteenth century reveals that the image of the amateurish governess was in part a fiction, which concealed the commitment and expertise of many women teachers. The mid-century reformers drew on this earlier tradition of feminine pedagogy and did not simply adopt the standards of boys’ education and their male peers. On the contrary, they contributed to the ongoing process by which teachers of both sexes sought to claim the status and authority of the ‘learned professions’. However, by the 1870s, the pressure to conform to the dominant model in boys’ education meant that this independent strand in education had largely been eclipsed.

This article examines the scholarly recovery and popular reception of ‘ancient poetry’ in later eighteenth-century England, with a view to elucidating the relationship between cultural primitivism and more overtly politicized discourses of national identity. The publication of the poems of Ossian, in the early 1760s, gave a new prominence to the earliest cultural productions of Celtic antiquity, and inspired the attempts of English literary historians, such as Thomas Percy and Thomas Warton, to provide an alternative ‘Gothic’ genealogy for the English literary imagination. However, both the English reception of Ossian, and the Gothicist scholarship of Percy and Warton, were complicated by the growing strength of English radical patriotism. As popular political discourse assumed an increasingly insular preoccupation with Saxon liberties and ancient constitutional rights, more conservative literary historians found their own attempts to ground English poetic tradition in some form of Gothic inheritance progressively compromised. The persistence of ancient constitutionalism as a divisive element of English political argument thus curtailed the ability of Gothicist literary scholarship to function as an effective vehicle for English cultural patriotism.

On returning to England in 1900 after an absence of some thirty-two years, James Ford Rhodes was much surprised by a number of changes he observed, and more particularly by the novel attitude of a number of newspapers and journals which had previously reflected more traditional assumptions and beliefs. Radicals, from Paine and Cobbett, Bentham and the Mills to Cobden, Bright and the Manchester School had traditionally identified America as the precursor of the new millennium. In contrast to this radical tradition was a conservative counter-theme that insisted that within its revolutionary and republican origins lay the seeds of American self-destruction. All such convictions seemed confirmed by the civil war, and The Times under Delane – the apogee of this conservative tradition – continued to prophesy the imminent collapse of the Union throughout most of the war. Yet in 1901 Rhodes noticed a far more sympathetic approach to American matters by the conservative Times and Spectator, and their formerly denigrating tone now echoed ironically in the pages of the radical Speaker. The purpose of this article is to try to explain some of the intellectual origins of this fundamental realignment, with reference to changing English interpretations of the American race, of the American revolution and of the American constitution, particularly as reflected in James Bryce's American Commonwealth, the classic exposition of this reinterpretation. This realignment was effected by a small body of academics, jurists and intellectuals whose writings in learned journals, legal textbooks and works of comparative politics lacked extensive appeal.

In 1957, against a background of political turmoil and international tension the Conservative government passed the Rent Act, a highly contentious piece of legislation designed to resolve the problem of housing shortages by removing the statutory restrictions on the rents of privately let accommodation which had been operative since the Great War. The government argued that by abolishing rent controls landlords would be encouraged to maintain, improve, and invest in private rented property and thereby increase its availability. The failure to achieve these objectives prompts an assessment of the Rent Act through an analysis of its origins. It is suggested that, although the government's rents policy was framed within a broad economic imperative, between 1955 and 1957 it became refracted through a number of political, administrative, and social constraints, ensuring that its central aim of creating a free market in rents could never be achieved. As such the Rent Act reaffirmed the strength of consensus politics as a major influence on the Conservative party's housing strategy.

Recent studies have challenged older views that the British state of the later seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries was rather powerless. However, such studies have focused largely on the executive, and particularly on the development of centralized revenue departments, or on the role of county elites in implementing state policies in the localities. This essay considers state formation as it was manifested at the base of the governmental system, and examines the extent of, and reasons for, support of national policies at the parish level. It argues that state power derived in part from institutional changes and innovations in procedure which made government in the localities more uniform, more professional, and more accountable; but that initiatives by parish vestries and a willingness on the part of such local elites to implement national policies also help to explain the strength of the state.

Two central developments in the economic history of Edwardian Britain are rarely considered in conjunction. Large flows of investment overseas between c. 1905 and 1914 have been regarded as a feature of ‘high imperialism’, or more innocuously, as a phase in the growth of an international economy. In domestic politics, the ‘New Liberal’ achievement of tax and welfare reforms has been viewed as a stage on the road to the ‘welfare state’, and as a bid for political survival. Was there any link between the export of capital and domestic politics? This article will describe how capital flows affected the choice, timing and scope of Liberal social and economic policies.

There has been disagreement among historians about the nature of the local response to the Diggers in Surrey, and about the relative importance of popular hostility and gentry-led opposition in the defeat of the Digger movement. It is argued here that a distinction must be made between the Diggers' reception in Walton and their treatment in Cobham: popular opposition was much in evidence in Walton, where the Diggers were treated as outsiders, but the response of Cobham's inhabitants was more ambivalent: some of Winstanley's most active fellow Diggers were Cobham inhabitants, and in this parish it was the local gentry who took the lead in the campaign against them. It is argued that the existence of a degree of local support for Winstanley was in part a reflection of Cobham's long tradition of landlord/tenant conflict, of the absence of a settled minister during the 1640s, and of the hardships experienced in the area in the aftermath of civil war.

The Third Reform Act has never received the attention which historians have given to its famous predecessors, though its political effects were arguably the most profound of the three. And though there was not the same pressure from extra-parliamentary agitation as in 1831–2 or 1866–7, the enactment of a major electoral reform in 1884–5 predictably overshadowed other parliamentary business. Lord Kimberley saw this clearly in 1883: ‘From the time when we propose the extension of the county franchise until (by some Government) the Redistribution of Seats is carried, there will be a political crisis and all other measures will be practically postponed.’ But in their explanations of the prolonged controversy, which lasted until the end of November 1884, historians have become absorbed in the tactical aspects of the political game and have tended to lose sight of the substantive issues at stake. Charles Seymour stated in 1915 that ‘the question of reform in 1884 was…fought out, not on principles, but upon the method of procedure’. Professor Weston has depicted the situation in terms of a Tory ‘cave’ fostered by the queen, forcing negotiation upon a reluctant Salisbury; while Dr Fair, in seeking to rebut her argument, has taken a similar standpoint to Seymour's. ‘It was not the details of reform or redistribution which were at stake. It was a spirit of mutual distrust.’

This article explores how walking in a particular type of terrain, the moorland area of north Derbyshire known as the Dark Peak, contributed to a localized sense of place which was framed by regional and national discourses and also testified to broader social and cultural uncertainties strongly shaped by gender and class. The punishing physical values of such wild upland areas offered challenges of stoicism, hardiness and endurance which were central to late-nineteenth century ideals of manliness, as masculinity was increasingly defined by forms of sporting activity which encouraged character-building battles against nature. Sensibility is not readily associated with this robust discourse of adventure. The ‘wild’ outdoors, so easily seen as an extension of the public, masculine world was, however, of far greater complexity. More than a focus for physical activity and trespass ‘battles’, it was a place where emotion and the elating intimacy of open space gave expression to needs which also intimate the masculine anxieties of the era.

Before 1914 one of the methods often suggested as a solution of the Home Rule problem and the more general one of constitutional reform in the United Kingdom was ‘Home Rule all round’, known also as ‘Devolution’ or ‘Federalism’ dependent on the occasion or the party affiliation of the would-be reformer. The concept was by no means a new one; it had been broached as early as the 1830s and had received much attention in the eighties and nineties at the time of Gladstone's two Home Rule bills. At best it meant the erection of four provincial Parliaments with separate executives for Ireland, Scotland, Wales and England, responsible for essentially local matters, and an overall Parliament sitting in London, elected on a population basis, responsible for general United Kingdom affairs such as postal services, customs, trade, defence and foreign policy; at the very least the scheme meant the devolution onto local government bodies, possibly provincial councils, of many of the more parochial problems considered at Westminster. ‘Home Rule all round’ attracted considerable interest in 1910 at the time of the Constitutional Conference and again during the tempestuous months of 1913–14 when the United Kingdom hovered on the brink of civil war and any and all compromise solutions were of necessity being explored. The role played by the Round Table Movement in these proposals and subsequent manoeuvres has only partially been recognized.

This article is concerned with the longing for home of British soldiers during the First World War. What, it asks, can such longings reveal about the psychological impact of trench warfare? Historians have differed in the significance that they ascribe to domestic attachments. Some argue that a ‘cultural chasm’ developed between the fronts, producing anger and disillusionment among soldiers which would surface fully fledged after the war, while others assert the continuing vitality of the links with home. Evidence for both these perceptions can be found in the letters written by British soldiers to their families. The functions of nostalgia could range from reassurance or momentary relief from boredom and impersonal army routines, through flight from intolerable anxiety, to survival through the power of love. Although animated by solitude, nostalgia provided a means of communication with loved ones. Its emotional tones varied according to the soldier's age and the nature of his attachments to home. The young soldier's reminiscences of home conveyed, not just the comforting past, but the hateful present. Nostalgia, being rooted in early memories of care, could be a potent vehicle for arousing the anxieties of loved ones, especially mothers. Among married men, the desire to return to wives and children could provide a powerful motivation for survival. This analysis suggests a different and more varied account of the genesis of the ‘disillusionment story’ of the war than is put forward in some recent studies. Among men of the ‘war generation’ particularly, disillusionment was not only a post-war construction, an artefact of cultural memory, but a powerful legacy of the emotional experience of the war itself.