Although the first decade of the German Empire has long been a central topic of historical research, the question with which this essay is concerned—Bismarck's relationship to the pressure groups at this time—cannot be answered satisfactorily on the basis of the material known hitherto. This is due to the fact that until very recently historians have concentrated on the diplomatic-political occurrences. Bismarck's eastern policy, the Livadia affair, the ‘war-in-sight crisis’, the Berlin Congress, and the change from the Three Emperors' Alliance to the ‘Eternal’ Treaty with the Danube monarchy—these are the events always used to demonstrate Bismarck's ‘genius’ in the field of foreign policy. On the problem of the ‘Kulturkampf’ much less effort has been expended. Here Bismarck's outstanding political skill was not as apparent as it was in his judgement of international relations. Moreover, this question was bound up from the very beginning with a strong ideological bias which only slightly weakened after World War II for the first time. Even less attention has been paid to the problems of domestic and social policy and economic developments have been almost totally neglected. It is true that these items have recently obtained new historical relevance from the new socio-political point of view, but up to the present day they have not been clarified. The chief general contributions of this kind have been published by non-German historians (e.g. Rosenberg, Lambi, and Pflanze) in the United States or in Canada. These studies, however, give inadequate answers to specific questions, as do the detailed essays of Karl-Erich Born and Wolfgang Zorn with their systematizing way of reflexion. They do not deal with our formulation of the question: the relationship between economic development and political events in a comparatively short period. Nevertheless, the essays of Born and Zorn will serve as a starting-point for our own investigation. Born in particular realizes the urgent need for more detailed research in the social and economic sphere, and pleads for a ‘supplementary’ approach (Ergänzungsgeschichte). He states that

the history of the aristocracy during the industrial age has to be completed by studies dealing with the history of the trade unions; by dissertations on the history of industrial branches, commercial centres, and companies; and last but not least by works on the disintegration of the old bourgeoisie. Then we shall be able to extend the political history of the German Empire, which is largely clarified, to a comprehensive view of a German historical epoch by adding the social and economic history of the late nineteeth century.

It is normally assumed that antisemitism in post-war France needs to be understood primarily in the light of the German occupation of 1940–4. This article seeks to describe the relationship between political antisemitism and events after 1945. Special attention is given to the issue that obsessed a large part of the French right: the loss of Algeria. It is argued that between 1954 and 1962 right-wingers came to took on the Jewish population of Algeria, which was often fervently opposed to French withdrawal, with new favour. Furthermore, many right-wingers began to admire Israel, which seemed so successful in combating Arab nationalism and which was widely believed to have links with the Organisation de l' Arméte Secrète. Changes in attitudes to Israel and the Jews were linked with a wider change in the French right that had been going on since 1945: most of the right now focused their loyalties around ‘l' occident’ a block of nations led by America and including Israel rather than around the France that was so important to Gaullist thinking. Finally, an attempt is made to show how the French right's new attitude to the Jews influenced its reaction to the 1965 Presidential election campaign, de Gaulle's denunciation of Israel in 1967 and the student riots of 1968.

This article looks at the relationship between professional and political aspiration in Georgian England by examining the office of attorney general during the period 1714–1810. It argues that while the office offered a unique opportunity for a lawyer to combine a legal and political career, this was a formidable task and one rarely achieved. The generally hostile attitude toward lawyers in the house of commons was a significant obstacle. More important, however, were the complex and potentially conflicting expectations associated with the office of attorney. The relationship with the government was an awkward balance of loyalty and remoteness, whereby the attorney was encouraged to regard fellow ministers both as colleagues and as clients. Moreover, he owed a duty to parliament that was independent of, but inevitably linked to, his obligations to the crown. As a consequence of these various pressures attorneys tended to remain aloof from politics and interested primarily in their own professional advancement. The office of attorney general was less the stepping-stone to ministerial office than the reliable path to the bench.

In the past decade scholars such as Stanford Lehmberg. G. R. Elton, and J. G. Bellamy have increased our understanding of the use of parliamentary attainder in the reign of Henry VIII. Traditionally attainder had been used to punish fugitives in flight, a form of parliamentary outlawry, or to affirm and supplement prior convictions achieved through the common law or the law of arms in order to extend the crown's rights to forfeited estates. At common law a traitor's forfeiture was limited to lands in fee simple, and by the law of arms his lands were totally immune to forfeiture. Passage of an act of attainder, however, enabled the king to seize any or all of a traitor's land, whether held in fee simple, fee tail, or to the use of the traitor. In the crucial decade of the 1530s attainder assumed a new role, condemning and ordering the execution of offenders solely by authority of parliament, without any prior judicial proceedings and despite an absence of obstacles which might have made a trial impossible. Lehmberg emphasizes the significance of this transformation in his detailed study of attainder in the reign of Henry VIII and suggests that the ‘pivotal act’ was the attainder of Elizabeth Barton and her followers in 1534. Certainly Barton's attainder was the first of many utilized by Henry's government to enforce the Reformation, and it did so without recourse to the common law. Lehmberg is mistaken, however, in his belief that this was the first attainder of the reign to attaint an individual without prior common law proceedings, for that distinction belongs to the attainder of Richard Roose in 1531.

On the death of Tiberius, Gaius Caesar, the son of the popular Germanicus, and often known in history by his nickname of Caligula, was acclaimed by the Senate as ruler of the Roman Empire, amid scenes of universal rejoicing, on 18 March in the year 37. On 24 January in the year 41 he lay dead, a tyrant murdered by Cassius Chaerea and his confederates, while the consuls convened a meeting of the Senate, not in the Curia Julia, for the name had now such hateful associations, but on the Capitol, to discuss the restoration of the Republic. In the space of a little less than four years the young man—he was under twenty-five when he became Emperor—had so alienated men's minds from the system of Augustus that Senators were ready to consider the abolition of the Principate and the condemnation of the memory of the Caesars. Ignominy and ridicule have fastened upon his name ever since: the common view held was (put briefly) that Gaius was mad and bad, and went from bad to worse. The nineteenth century witnessed the activity of scholars who questioned the traditional account of all the Julio-Claudian emperors, by using the new knowledge offered by inscriptions or by analysing and criticising closely the account in the literary authorities.

Based on long-term oral historical research in the Mandara Mountains, this article traces the ways in which memories of slavery have been preserved in songs which are usually not part of the more formal oral historical narratives. It historicizes this process by focusing on the selective memories of different generations as well as on the influence of colonial and post-colonial politics, particularly post-1990 democratic politics in Cameroon. The major change over time is the shift from the shameful memory of slavery to be repressed – or treated only obliquely – to its public claim as a political resource after the democratic transition of the 1990s. In retelling the history of being sold as slaves, the residents of the Mandara Mountains reversed the negative meaning of slavery to use it to celebrate their resistance to Islam and to voice political claims. This new narrative congeals around being kirdi, a new regional and trans-religious identity claimed by Christians and pagans in the mountains.

Queen Victoria, her court, the embassy in Paris, the prime minister, and the press, led by The Times, were early and impassioned sympathizers with Alfred Dreyfus and bitter critics of his persecutors. This article traces the development of their views and the information available to them, analyses the principal themes as they saw them, and attempts to explain how and why they formed their opinions. It considers why the Dreyfusard position was so congenial to them. It argues that their own principles and prejudices – conservative, patriotic, Anglo-Saxon, and Protestant – were confirmed by a critique of French political culture, seen as corrupted by a combined heritage of absolutism, revolution, Catholicism, and demagoguery. This appears to be confirmed by contrast with the few dissenting voices in Britain, on one hand Catholic and Irish, on the other, anti-Semitic socialist, who showed little sympathy with the Dreyfusards, and even less with the views of their British supporters.

This article re-examines the nature and extent of conformity to the Religious Settlement amongst the parish clergy in the first decades of Elizabeth I's reign. The estimate of Henry Gee, made over a century ago, that only around 300 clergymen were deprived for non-conformity to the Settlement has been remarkably influential and durable, and it continues to shape broader assessments of the ways in which religio-political change was implemented and received in this period. Using digital resources such as the Clergy of the Church of England Database, in conjunction with hitherto neglected biographical compilations, the article argues for a significant revision of Gee's figures. More broadly, it reflects on the complex meanings of ‘conformity’ in a period of perplexing change and dramatic institutional disruption, disputing any suggestion that apparent acquiescence signalled pervasive ‘acceptance’ of the alteration in religion among the clergy. In the process, it draws attention to the pitfalls of uncritical deployment of numbers and statistics, and of using them as explanatory short-cuts in understanding the dynamics of Reformation change.

This article examines the status of Richard Hofstadter's classic work The American political tradition (1948) as a ‘popular history’. It uses documents drawn from Hofstadter's personal papers, those of his publisher Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., as well as several of his contemporaries, to pursue a detailed reconstruction of the manner in which the book was written, edited, and reviewed, and to demonstrate how it circulated within, and was defined by, the literary culture of the 1940s and 1950s. The article explores Hofstadter's early career conception of himself as a scholar writing for audiences outside of the academy, reframes the significance of so-called ‘middlebrow’ literature, and, in doing so, offers a fresh appraisal of the links between popular historical writing, liberal politics, and the role of public intellectuals in the post-war United States.

The thirteenth century, like the eighteenth century, was a siècle français. Even Frederick II had failed to eradicate the impression German decline which had found expression after Philip Augustus's victory at Bouvines in 1214. After Frederick II's death in 1250, the Capetian monarchy had used its power, its prestige and its traditions to obtain political predominance in Europe and, indeed, throughout the Mediterranean world. The French monarchy was not, indeed, so firmly established as contemporaries supposed: after 1314 a period of “feudal reaction” set in, which revealed the weaknesses in the political structure the Capetians had built up. But the sudden concentration of French power in the closing years of the thirteenth century, the unity of the country around the throne, and the unanimous support which all classes, nobility, clergy and bourgeoisie, gave to royal policy, not only contrasted markedly with the divergences of interest within England and within Germany, but also gave the Capetian monarchs decisive advantages in their dealings with other governments. French policy, based on Carolingian tradition and directed to the “reintegration” of Gaul, was, by comparison with the mere conservatism of Edward I, positive, clearly defined, and systematically pursued. Unlike English or German policy i t was invigorated by a conscious “ideology”, which found expression not only in the unofficial writings of Pierre Dubois, but also in the official memoranda of Nogaret, Flote and Plaisians, and which had deep roots in French history.3 Because of these advantages, France at this period was the focal point at which all the complex problems of European politics converged: all the wires which statesmen were pulling, passed through Paris. European policy responded or reacted to the policy of France.

This article argues that the Edinburgh physician Archibald Pitcairne made a significant and original contribution to European religious heterodoxy around 1700. Though Pitcairne has been studied by historians of medicine and scholars of literary culture, his heterodox writings have not been analysed in any detail. This is partly because of their publication in Latin, their relative rarity, and their considerable obscurity. The article provides a full examination of two works by Pitcairne: his Solutio problematis de historicis; seu, inventoribus (‘Solution of the problem concerning historians or inventors’) (1688); and the Epistola Archimedis ad Regem Gelonem (‘Letter of Archimedes to King Gelo’) (1706). As well as untangling their bibliographical and textual difficulties, the article places these tracts in the context of Pitcairne's medical, mathematical, and religious interests. A range of readers deplored the sceptical implications of the pamphlets, but others, particularly in free-thinking circles in the Netherlands, admired Pitcairne's work. And yet Pitcairne himself was no atheist. He doubted a priori proofs of God's existence, but had been convinced by a version of the argument from ‘design’. The article concludes by relating Pitcairne's complex religious attitudes to his background in late seventeenth-century Scotland.

It is well known that trading companies played an important role in the formation of British colonies during the Partition of Africa. Eventual developments in areas such as Nigeria, Rhodesia and East Africa, however, have tended to give a false impression of the relations between commercial undertakings and the British Government. It has been suggested that the authorities deliberately used chartered companies for imperialist purposes.1 Contemporary observers, too, suspected the existence of a comprehensive plan whereby it was ‘to private initiative that the British Government at first leaves the task of paving the way for its political designs’.2 But in actual fact official circles were usually extremely reluctant to extend their obligations, and at a time when interest in expansion is generally assumed to have been great and growing were still by no means always willing even to grant a Royal Charter to any newly-formed Company that applied for one. One such undertaking that became painfully aware of this was the North-West African Company, a now-forgotten concern that has left no mark on the modern map. Nevertheless, an account of its history, of the means which it used to try to enrol official support and of the attitude of the British Government is not without interest as a qualification of the usual view of the years 1875–95, which have too often been treated as dominated by a ‘scramble’ for overseas territory and a ruthless struggle for new markets and sources of raw material.

At the turn of the seventeenth century, jurists such as Alberico Gentili (1552–1608) and Hugo Grotius (1583–1645), began to advance a novel account of the law of nations (ius gentium) as a law that binds a world of sovereign states. That they would produce such a theory is surprising, however, considering that sovereign states were neither the dominant form of political organization at the time, nor did conventional medieval jurisprudence treat them as the normative standard. This article traces this evolution to a broader transformation in legal interpretation. In an effort to put Roman law on a more rational foundation, jurists such as François Connan (1508–51) and Hugues Doneau (1527–91) connected the origin of law to the unfolding of a certain account of human sociability, with the result that a conception of the state as an autonomous body acquired a normative status within their version of the global legal order. It then argues that we should see Gentili’s work on the ius gentium as part of this tradition. In so doing, the article demonstrates how the innovations of a particular school of legal interpretation, by combining Roman law with a distinctive social theory, contributed to making the sovereign state the legal norm.

American local history has been much studied, but rarely integrated into the general history of the country. Although greater attention is now being paid to the connexions between local political, social and economic developments and national trends, there is still a very real disparity in historiographical emphasis between national issues and the problems of community life experienced by Americans in the past. For no period, perhaps, is this disparity so graphic as for the mid-nineteenth century; the years from about 1840 to the 1870s or the 1880s were convulsed by sectional rivalries, civil war and reconstruction, to which matters historians have devoted their attention. Steadily, however, the local communities themselves have come under scrutiny. But the major interpretation currently accepted reinforces, rather than qualifies, the general picture we have of that period, since the North, at least, is regarded as buoyant and expansive in the mid-century, pursuing with relentless self-confidence such aims as help to explain the coming, and the winning, of the Civil War; reform, moral and educational improvement, and the opening of economic opportunities to yeomen farmers, artisans and small merchants.

The official biographers of H. H. Asquith believed that his sole difference of any importance with Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman in the period when Asquith served as his principal lieutenant rose in connexion with the Trade Disputes Act of 1906. In fact, another important difference divided them in the following spring, this one rising out of their respective views on the proper mode of limiting the veto of the house of lords. That of Campbell-Bannerman is well known. He sponsored a plan of suspensory veto that could conceivably limit the period in which the lords' veto operated to little more than six months. Under its terms a bill sent up to the house of lords would go to a small conference representing each house equally when the two houses were in disagreement. Should the conference fail, the bill or another like it could be reintroduced in the house of commons after an interval of at least six months, passed under drastic closure, and sent once more to the house of lords. The impasse continuing, a second conference might be held; and a second failure at this juncture could entail a repetition of the whole process. But if a third conference proved unsuccessful, the bill could become law without the consent of the house of lords. Known subsequently as the C-B veto plan, it was made public by the Prime Minister in a speech in the house of commons, on 24 June 1007, when he also introduced and carried by a large majority a resolution asserting that the power of the house of lords to alter or reject bills should be so restricted by law as to secure that the decision of the house of commons should prevail within the limits of a single parliament.