Between 1867 and the end of the nineteenth century the Irish question was one of the major issues in British politics. Between 1880 and 1893 in particular it achieved the status of the predominating issue, the great and abiding preoccupation of politicians. There would appear to be little difficulty for the historian in explaining why this was so. There were obviously abundant reasons in the Irish situation itself why politicians should have devoted so much of their time and effort to dealing with it—the urgent nature of Ireland's social problems, especially in relation to land-holding; the growth of Irish agrarian agitation so much better organized and supported than had hitherto been the case that it had to be met by a large and extremely time-consuming amount of coercion or land reform or a combination of both; the growing hold in Ireland of nationalism and of the demand for home rule; the new strength and cohesion of the Irish parliamentary party and its impact on British politics, both within the House of Commons and through the mobilisation of the votes of Irishmen in the non-Irish constituencies. Ireland clearly needed, and had the means of exacting, a very considerable amount of attention to its problems. The nature of the preoccupation with Ireland seems equally clear. The issues of land and local government reform, home rule, and coercion predominate in the thought and action of politicians with regard to the Irish question.

The Munich agreement of 1938 continues to be a source of controversy, and differences concerning the reasons for British policy are unlikely to be resolved for some time to come.1 There is, however, one minor but important aspect of that policy which has been little discussed—the activities of Konrad Henlein. His supposed aims played an important part in British calculations in the years before Munich. It is the purpose of this article to take a fresh look at his visits to London. While contemporary impressions can now be compared with evidence drawn from a variety of sources, the full truth about Henlein remains elusive. Since certain crucial documents or records of conversations cannot now be traced, a certain amount of conjecture is inevitable and dogmatism about his rather enigmatic conduct would be unwise.

Four notable General Elections in the years 1900–10 helped to undermine faith in the great fixed stars by which Victorian statesmen had set their course. A great Liberal majority filled the House of Commons and was augmented by the representatives of organized labour; within the Conservative party the votaries of Tariff Reform imposed their new orthodoxy. We now know a good deal about the attitudes and actions of men at the heart of politics, and something about the electoral calculations upon which their hopes of achieving or maintaining power were based. But, as Dr Kitson Clark has reminded us, ′elections are won or lost in the constituencies, and in order to learn what happened in any given general election it has proved to be necessary to make a rather close local study of particular constituencies′.1 Modern scholarship has cast a clearer light upon the relations between Labour and the Liberals in these years, as upon the Unionist attitude towards Tariff Reform.2 One aim of this article is to seek to explore these two themes by reference to electoral developments in one English borough. The merits of a case study of Blackburn from this point of view will, I hope, become apparent. There is also a complementary objective. While the study of ‵court′ politics may become jejune unless the Blackburns are taken into consideration, it is equally true that a parochial account would leave much about Blackburn politics unexplained. It is necessary to explore the interactions between two political worlds, to compare great things with small.

The British ‘New Imperialism’ has frequently been described as a monolith, generated in the opinion of Hobson and others by the search for capital outlets and markets, or in Schumpeter's analysis by the residue of feudalism.2 These mechanistic interpretations allow little importance to mediating philosophies or institutions, to anti-imperialist convictions or inner divisiveness, or to conditions in indigenous societies. Views of the uniqueness of the New Imperialism, and also of imperial expansion being simply determined, were powerfully challenged by Professor Gallagher and Dr Robinson in their article, ‘The Imperialism of Free Trade’.3

At the Paris Peace Conference of 1919 the Polish state was reconstituted as a result of the German defeat in the Great War, and the break-up of the Austro-Hungarian and Russian Empires. In the years that followed, Poland refused to come to terms with her neighbours and sought a guarantee for her future safety in a close attachment to Britain and France; a course of action which ultimately led to renewed subjugation, under the hand of each of her neighbours in turn. It is with the first years of this course that we are here concerned.

The Action Française was neither a widespread nor a powerful nor a successful political movement, and its political objectives were anachronistic to the point of absurdity. Its intention to carry out a coup d'état could not be taken seriously when its leaders were so eager to find reasons for avoiding or postponing action.1 Critics of the movement rightly claimed, for this reason, that it did not deserve its name.2 Of course, the Action Francaise always claimed to have considerable political influence, but its very poor showing in the elections of 1919 and 1924,3 when what influence it had was probably at its height, only emphasized the movement's real complexion.

The negotiations leading up to the Treaty of London of 27 April 1915 afford a classic illustration of Grey's complaints concerning the difficulties of conducting diplomacy in wartime. Though manifold they may be reduced to two headings. In the first place diplomacy was dependent, hopelessly so, upon victory in the field. ‘A diplomacy which was suitable when the Allied armies were having success’, Grey wrote, ‘was hopelessly unsuitable when the Germans seemed to be winning.’ Whereas before the war the Foreign Office had exercised some influence upon the development of British naval and military strategy, now the boot was upon the other foot. Words could not compensate for military defeats: ‘in war words count only so far as they are backed by force and victories. Up to the end of 1916…Allied diplomacy had little enough of this backing’.