While the restoration of monarchy in 1660 has attracted considerable scholarly interest, historians have usually focused upon the events that led to the abrupt change in the fortunes of Charles II rather than the less dramatic tactics by which the restored king consolidated his power. Yet the challenges Charles faced at his return were formidable, his initial personal popularity surprisingly short-lived. Somehow the regime had to quiet political and religious dissension, satisfy sharply conflicting expectations, and retrieve the power of the sword from a republican army and a volatile and well-armed public. Existing studies of the restoration years fail to explain precisely how the royal government successfully negotiated these difficulties. This essay describes the methods by which order was maintained and control reasserted; how the peaceful disbandment of the republican army and the subsequent control of its veterans were achieved; a police establishment of unprecedented size and effectiveness organized; the foundation for a permanent army laid; and the capacity of English subjects to rebel effectively diminished. In sum, it exposes the policies used to reconstruct royal authority so swiftly and securely that a host of enemies and public disenchantment failed to dislodge it.

This article seeks to illuminate significantly our understanding of the link between abolitionism and evangelicalism by considering the debate at the formation of the Evangelical Alliance in 1846 surrounding the propriety of Christian fellowship with slaveholders. The leading critic of the pro-slavery faction was the Revd Isaac Nelson, an orthodox Presbyterian minister from Belfast, Ireland. Nelson's importance to anti-slavery was recognized by abolitionists on both sides of the Atlantic at the time, but has not yet been adequately analysed by historians. Hence, this article will examine Nelson's role in the dispute with the defenders of the American slaveholders at the London meeting in 1846 and in further debates within the Alliance on the slavery question. The article will conclude by examining Nelson's claim that the Alliance was a failure owing to its alleged compromise on the slavery question.

The storm over Fritz Fischer's study of German aims in the First World War seems to be abating at last. Even in Germany, where the process of readjustment has understandably been painful, few historians would now dispute Fischer's conclusions on the war aims themselves, though the secondary argument on Bethmann Hollweg's role in their formulation continues. More surprising still is the growing acceptance of Fischer's position on the origins of the war. If his opponents were at first concerned to deny that German policy was at the root of the July crisis, their present purpose is only to deny that an annexationist programme existed before the outbreak of war. If his opponents were at first concerned to deny that German policy was at the root of the July crisis, their present purpose is only to deny that an annexationist programme existed before the outbreak of war. Most German historians now accept either that Imperial Germany was taking a ‘calculated risk’ in supporting Austria over Serbia or that Germany was anxious to launch a ‘preventive’ attack on Russia and France before especially the former Power grew too strong.

‘Wee can neither Swear a new Allegiance nor Transfer ye Old; nor Assist at any Coronation while K.[ing] James the second Liue's. In these few words penned on 17 February 1689, within days of the proclamation of William and Mary, Bishop Turner of Ely scaled the heights and plumbed the depths of the loyalists’ dilemma. The unexpected manner in which the Revolution had been accomplished entailed upon churchmen a deep and bitter conflict of loyalties. Certainly none were more afflicted than the Cavalier politicians, prelates and magnates of the Church of England party, who less than a decade before had drawn together in defence of the lawful succession, the established religion and the privileges of the governing classes. As one might suspect, the re-emergence of the Cavalier leaders in the autumn of 1688, from the isolation into which they had been ungenerously thrown by the King's espousal of Indulgence, had important repercussions on events following James's abandonment of government. Yet, while contemporary attitudes to civil obedience have received close study, curiously little attention has been given to the role of James's supporters in the practical politics of the crisis, especially in its initial stages.

This review considers Soviet economic history in the light of recent contributions to the historiography. Many of the latest studies in Soviet economic history take the form of archive-based treatments of economic policy and economic administration, the causes and consequences of periodic economic crises (notably famine), and the behaviour of workers, managers, and consumers within the constraints of the planned economy. As a result, we now have a clearer idea of the functioning of the economic system, the extent of coercion at various levels, and the scope of reform initiatives. Disagreement remains over important issues, notably the causes and timing of the Soviet economic collapse.

For most of the Second World War, German and Italian agents were actively engaged in a variety of intelligence gathering exercises in southern Africa. The hub of this activity was Lourenço Marques, the colonial capital of Portuguese East Africa (Mozambique). One of the key tasks of Axis agents was to make links with Nazi sympathizers and the radical right in South Africa, promote dissent, and destabilize the imperial war effort in the dominion. Using British, American, and South African archival sources, this article outlines German espionage activities and British counter-intelligence operations orchestrated by MI5, MI6, and the Special Operations Executive between 1939 and 1944. The article, which is part of a larger study, examines three broad themes. First, it explores Pretoria's creation of a humble military intelligence apparatus in wartime South Africa. Secondly, it examines the establishment of several British liaison and intelligence-gathering agencies that operated in southern Africa for most of the war. Finally, it assesses the working relationship between the South African and British agencies, the tensions that arose, and the competing interests that emerged between the two allies as they sought to contain the Axis-inspired threat from within.

‘Western history since 1800,’ Charles Tilly has written, ‘is violent history.’ And so it is, though the German southwest – by which I understand Nassau, Hesse-Darmstadt, the Rhenish (Bavarian) Palatinate, Baden, Wüirttemberg, as these polities emerged after 1815 – constitutes an anomaly so striking as to tax historical imagination. I realize that I risk resurrecting a caricature of ‘the German’ – the obsequious and officious Spiesser, the kowtowing burgherpedant – or at least of appearing to lend credence to that image by suggesting that German social strife was contention with civility.

Since the appearance of volume I of The decline and fall of the Roman empire in 1776, the religion of Edward Gibbon has been subject to intense debate. He has been variously identified as an atheist, a deist, even as a somewhat detached Christian. Examination of his relations, both personal and scholarly, with the varieties of religion and irreligion current in eighteenth-century Britain leads to the conclusion that he remained resolutely critical of all such positions. He did not share the convictions of dogmatic freethinkers, still less those of determined atheists. The product of a nonjuring family, Gibbon benefited from the scholarly legacy of several high church writers, while maintaining a critical attitude towards the claims of Anglican orthodoxy. It was through the deliberate and ironical adoption of the idiom of via media Anglicanism, represented by such theologians as the clerical historian John Jortin, that Gibbon developed a woundingly sceptical appraisal of the history of the early church. This stance made it as difficult for his contemporaries to identify Gibbon's religion as it has since proved to be for modern historians. Gibbon appreciated the central role of religion in shaping history, but he remained decidedly sceptical as to Christianity's ultimate status as revealed and unassailable truth.

In the late eighteenth century, European merchants launched corporate insurance bodies in India and China. These new joint-stock companies followed London's mature and efficient institutional systems for marine insurance, and adopted their basis in the European law merchant. They operated alongside local risk transfer facilities, but in both countries were quickly embraced by native merchants, who participated both as customers and shareholders. The rapid development of a corporate insurance sector in India and China, fuelled by the capital of local merchants and members of the European colonial elite, underlines the effectiveness of premium-based marine insurance, while its swift adoption by both local and international merchants shows its importance to the development of trade and empire.

George Lockhart of Carnwath is best known for his bitter denunciation of the Anglo-Scottish Union in his Memoirs, concerning the affairs of Scotland, first published in 1714. There Lockhart appears as a wholly Jacobite narrator and moralist, passionately inveighing against the iniquity of his peers. Yet we know that his background was not cut from the same cloth as that of his more stereotypical Jacobite contemporaries. Not for him the brooding presence of a Cavalier ancestor ‘martyred’ while fighting alongside Montrose or ancient traditions of loyalty to the Stuarts. Rather, like many Scotsmen after him, he was converted to Jacobitism in the course of the political crisis gripping early eighteenth-century Scotland. From the point of view of the historian studying the dynamics of political commitment the fact that Lockhart falls into this category is a godsend. Uniquely among his Jacobite peers, in the Memoirs and in his many surviving letters, as well as the correspondence and accounts of affairs penned by contemporaries, Lockhart has left the historian a substantial amount of evidence to work on. This article will explore the social and intellectual background to George Lockhart's adherence to the Stuart cause, focusing in particular on the interplay of social forces that shaped his childhood and teenage years, before going on to trace the key features of his understanding of politics and society. Lockhart was not a natural convert to Jacobitism, and the fact that he and many like him moved in that direction merits close analysis. By better understanding why a man like Lockhart embraced the exiled Stuarts we can gain a more general insight into the revival of the Jacobite cause in Scotland in the early eighteenth century.

The words and music of ‘Rule, Britannia!’ are synonymous with the expansionist, triumphalist, and imperialist Britain symbolized by fluttering Union Jacks on the Last Night of the Proms. This article explores the cultural and political contexts of the first performance of this important national cultural artefact as the finale of Alfred: a masque to suggest that this opening night served a very different purpose. The first audience was a court in exile from the metropolitan heart of London, popular amongst the general public, but without any prospects of government. Two of the most important members of this group of peers, politicians, poets and a prince had recently died, and with them any cohesive identity. Alfred is both a desperate plea for unity, a rallying cry which forcefully restated the key tenets of this group's identity, and a delayed expression of patriotic celebration occasioned by Admiral Vernon's capture of Portobello. Through addressing this performance, this article makes an important contribution to our understanding of Hanoverian political culture and highlights the continuing impact of Anglo-Saxon England on mid-eighteenth-century Britain.

The most useful sexual histories are those that provide depth of context without either assuming sexual identity or anticipating its complete absence; those that do not force taxonomies; histories that resist any simple teleological account of a shift from ‘homosexuality’ as sexual excess to the homosexual as a species. This review examines attempts to write such histories – what has recently been termed the ‘new British queer history’. I will focus on some strands of male and female same-sex desires and their expression in England in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries: male and female same-sex friendships, effeminacy in men and masculinity in women; and representations of lesbianism. This review discusses these histories of desires that resist present-day sexual assumptions.

Recent research has argued that English cathedrals, particularly but not exclusively Westminster Abbey, formed a ‘liturgical fifth column’ in the church and were the Trojan horse by which Laudianism – the ceremonial, clericalist, anti-Calvinist policies associated with Charles I and William Laud in the 1620s and 1630s – was introduced into the English church. This article re-examines links between cathedrals and Laudianism, not just in England, but also in the associated Protestant state churches of Charles's other realms: Ireland and Scotland. Laudian divines emphasized cathedrals as liturgical showcases, ‘mother churches’ which their ‘daughters’, the parish churches, should follow in the policy of the ‘beauty of holiness’, particularly the placing, railing of, and reverence to the Laudian altar. However, cathedrals are shown to be more diverse than historians have generally allowed, and Laudian policies are shown to have been grafted on to cathedrals, rather than emerging from them. Caroline cathedrals were more the victims of Laudianism than its midwives.

This article considers a particular moment in world history when an instant of epoch-making triumph in the non-West – Japan's defeat of Russia in 1905 – coincided with a period of intense national anxiety in Britain in the wake of the South African War (1899–1902). One outcome of this historical intersection was the emergence in Britain of a euphoric ‘cult of Japan’ that saw many Edwardians, obsessed with the idea of ‘efficiency’, deploy Japan as both a referent for British shortcomings and a model for reform. The article asks why proponents of ‘efficiency’ – most of them ardent imperialists – deemed it acceptable, even strategically advantageous, in such domestic debates to draw upon examples from Japan – an ‘Oriental’ race and former protégé – in apparent contradiction of Western supremacism. The article contends that Britain's emulative attitudes were underpinned by an emergent plural conception of ‘civilization’, which appraised Japan's attainment of civilization as consistent with Western standards whilst at the same time recognizing elements of Japanese particularity – an outlook that justified reciprocal learning.

This article examines the role that Ireland and Irish people played in the geographical construction of British colonial rule in India during the nineteenth century. It argues that as an important sub-imperial centre, Ireland not only supplied the empire with key personnel, but also functioned as an important reference point for scientific practice, new legislation, and systems of government. Occupying integral roles within the information systems of the colonial state, Irish people provided much of the intellectual capital around which British rule in India was constructed. These individuals were part of nineteenth-century Irish professional personnel networks that viewed the empire as a legitimate sphere for work and as an arena in which they could prosper. Through involvement and deployment of expertise in areas such as surveying and geological research in India, Irishmen and Irish institutions were able to act decisively in the development of colonial knowledge. The relationships mapped in this article centre the Irish within the imperial web of connections and global exchange of ideas, technologies, and practices during the long nineteenth century, thereby making a contribution towards uncovering Ireland's multi-directional involvement in the British empire and reassessing the challenges that this presents to existing British, Irish, and imperial historiography.

Dr Anne McLaren has disputed the interpretation of the Vindiciae, contra tyrannos (1579) as a work in which Roman and canon law were fundamental. She correctly identifies Quentin Skinner and me with this interpretation. She bases her case on two sorts of evidence: the alleged paucity of Roman law citations, as compared with scriptural ones, in the margins of the original text; and our alleged failure to appreciate the ‘context’ of the Vindiciae, which, she suggests, means how it was translated and used in England, primarily in the seventeenth century. This response argues that she has seriously underestimated the number of legal citations, ignored the use of legal material which is not cited in the margins, and failed to appreciate that Scripture is interpreted in accordance with the categories and principles of Roman and canon law. It further argues that sixteenth-century France, not seventeenth-century England, is the proper ‘context’ in which to understand the book; and that substituting her assessment of English interpretations for what the original says is illegitimate.

Léon Blum's reply to interpellations on 6 June 1936 sums up the entire problem of interpreting the economic policy of the Popular Front. In terms of popular sovereignty, that policy ought to have been – in the light of parliamentary practicalities, it could only be – an implementation of the programme commun, as published at the beginning of 1936, after lengthy negotiations between the main elements in the Popular Front alliance. And yet it was not to be so. On the credit side, the 1936–7 government is remembered for instituting paid holidays and orderly collective bargaining; in the no man's land where academic debate is fought out, lie the famous 40 hours law to restrict the working week, and an ineffectual set of price controls; on the debit side, at any rate in its implementation, is the devaluation of September 1936, with the attendant failure to institute any exchange control. None of these key measures featured in the joint manifesto. They were all decided in the first four months of the legislature, after which the government remained continually on the defensive in economic and financial policy. This has led Georges Lefranc, one of the best-known historians of the Popular Front, to describe the period from October 1936 to February 1937 as ‘la pause implicite’, even though it was only on 24 January 1937 at the earliest, or more explicitly in the third week of February, that Blum acknowledged the reality which had been impending for the last five months – the necessity for ‘a pause’.

John Stuart Mill's support for, and predictions of, co-operative production have been taken as a coherent wedding of liberal and socialist concerns, and as drawing together later nineteenth-century political economy and working-class radicalism. Despite its evident significance, the alliance of political economy and co-operative production was, however, highly conflicted, contested, and short-lived, in ways that help to shed light on the construction of knowledge of society in nineteenth-century Britain. Mill's vision should be seen as developed in contrast to the sociological and historical perspectives of Auguste Comte and Thomas Carlyle, as an attempt to hold together political economy as a valid form of knowledge with the hope of a new social stage in which commerce would be imbued with public spirit. This ideal thus involved debate about competing social futures and the tools of prediction, as well as entering debates within political economy where it was equally embattled. Even Mill's own economic logic tended more towards support of profit-sharing than co-operative production, and hopes for the latter became significantly less persuasive with the introduction of the concept of the entrepreneur into mainstream British economics during the 1870s and 1880s.