New entrants to the British peerage between 1700 and 1850 included both traditional landed magnates and men from humbler backgrounds. The rate of recruitment accelerated rapidly after 1782. This article identifies and analyses the social and economic backgrounds of new peers and the reasons for which titles were bestowed. While the inclusion of large numbers of Irish and Scottish grandees sustained the longitudinal sinews of the peerage, war and empire produced an increasing number of titles awarded on merit. Men of modest backgrounds had always been admitted to the elite, but ‘Old Corruption’ and the marriage market allowed most of their descendants to blend in with the old peerage after a few generations. The wave of new recruits, especially after 1782, included numerous relatively poor or landless men, and governments increasingly intervened with grants of multi-generational annuities in order to protect the status of the peerage while continuing to use titles to reward new men. Ministers boldly and astutely acted both to preserve the pre-eminence of the old order and encourage the prowess of state servants as Britain bestrode the globe. A new peerage emerged to help save the old.

This article explores the way in which the Counter Reformation priests sent to England after 1574 cultivated and harnessed the culture of the miraculous in their efforts to reform and evangelize the populace and to defend doctrines and practices assaulted by Protestant polemicists. Drawing on the insights emerging from recent research on Catholic renewal on the Continent, it shows how the seminary clergy and especially the Jesuits fostered traditional beliefs and practices associated with saints, relics, and sacramentals and exploited the potential of exorcisms and visions for didactic and proselytizing purposes. Close examination of these strategies serves to question some existing assumptions about the nature, objectives, and impact of the English Catholic mission and to illuminate the particular challenges that persecution presented to a movement determined to purge popular piety of its ‘superstitious’ accretions. It underlines the tensions between ecclesiastical direction and lay initiative which characterized a context in which Catholicism was a minority Church and highlights the frictions and divisions which these attempts to utilize supernatural power stimulated within the ranks of the Counter Reformation priesthood itself.

The article is dedicated to one of the least known early works of Peter Mohyla, Orthodox Metropolitan of Kiev (1633–46). Known as a great church and educational reformer and ‘Westernizer’, he made a major contribution to the cultural development in Ruthenia, then a part of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, and Muscovy in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The work has survived in a single manuscript copy which could have been made from a printed edition that was suppressed or destroyed soon after its publication. The author has established, for the first time, that the work in question is not an original piece, but a rendition of the fifteenth-century Catholic devotional treatise The Imitation of Christ by Thomas à Kempis into contemporary literary Ukrainian. First-hand evidence is presented to support this claim. Mohyla brought many significant changes to the original text using it as a vehicle to convey his own views formed under the influence of the Catholic Reformation, Jesuit education, and Latin books. Conclusions are drawn about the way he applied Western sources to rid the Orthodox Church from obscurity and self-imposed isolation from the European Christian civilization.

Some recent studies have highlighted the importance of sounds for social interaction in the early modern period, yet the consequences for deaf members of society are rarely questioned. Those without the ability to hear lived in a world of sounds controlled by those who heard. This article explores the extent to which the deaf were socially integrated in English society between the mid-sixteenth and mid-eighteenth centuries. It also assesses the disadvantages suffered by those born deaf, or who lost their hearing. Crucial to the discussion is an understanding that experiences were not uniform, as the term deafness covered a wide spectrum of conditions, from temporary hearing loss to profound congenital deafness. Clearly some were more disabled than others, but their disadvantages were more to do with traditional social divisions of wealth and status, rather than the extent of their hearing impairment. Fundamentally, the most inhibiting factor was an inability to apprehend words.

A valuable window into the world of non-slaveholding whites is provided by Hinton Rowan Helper's The impending crisis of the South (1857). This native North Carolinian purported to articulate the views and concerns of his class in a devastating critique of slaveholders and southern society. Helper was the only southern intellectual to theorize and conceptualize non-slaveholders fully as a distinct class and this article examines his arguments and evaluates his claim to be representative of their thinking. It suggests that although this group was far too diverse for any one opinion to be truly representative, The impending crisis recorded a sense of discontent found within certain sections of the non-slaveholding ranks ignored by consensus interpretations of the Old South reliant upon elite sources of evidence.

This article examines the policy pursued by William Laud during his tenure as bishop of London, focusing specifically on the way in which he enforced the various royal edicts against discussion of predestination. It is argued that Laud enforced Charles I's decrees in an unbalanced manner, attacking Calvinists while apparently leaving their anti-Calvinist opponents untouched. It is likewise argued, however, that this strategy was accomplished not through a policy of overt judicial persecution, but through a more subtle regime of quiet threat and harassment. Such a policy was necessary because, at least in London, the question of predestination had by 1629 become a serious and explosive issue, one that was inextricably linked in the minds of many observers to more explicitly ‘secular’ matters of government and policy. In the process of examining Laud's strategy, the article seeks to untangle the question of why both the Caroline authorities and their enemies saw the seemingly scholastic question of predestination as a matter of such crucial political significance. Ultimately, the article helps to revise our understanding of the political atmosphere that prevailed in England at the outset of the personal rule, while likewise contributing to a deeper understanding of the political breakdown that led to civil war and revolution in the 1640s.

This article highlights the present lacuna in the study of politics and political culture in the Scottish Highlands between the battles of Culloden and Waterloo. It argues that this neglect is symptomatic of the contentious historiography that surrounds the Highland Clearances. Yet politics remained a crucial factor shaping landlord attitudes to improvements and their estates in general. Moreover, in contrast to their well-known failure to manage the region's economic and social development, Highland landlords exhibited a sophisticated understanding of how British politics had been reconfigured by the emergence of the British ‘fiscal-military’ state. The region's elites constructed a distinctive and effective political strategy that sought to place the Highlands in a mutually supportive relationship with the British state. Scottish Highland political culture thus offers a useful corrective to recent debates on the ‘fiscal-military’ state that stress either the centre's overwhelming power or the ability of local elites to resist that power. Although the Highlands is remembered primarily for its hostile relationship with the political centre, the region in fact constituted a prime example of the process of mutual accommodation that underpinned the domestic authority of the eighteenth-century British state.

This article examines the character of John Hynde Cotton, a leading tory opponent of Sir Robert Walpole, who played a particularly puzzling role in the conspiracies behind the Jacobite rebellion of 1745, and the parliaments of George II. Entering a coalition ministry in 1744, he was immersed at the same time in intrigue with the exiled Stuart court, and at one stage pledged to use resignation from government as the signal for rebellion. The article explores the background to his career, tracing the intellectual, professional and kinship networks into which he was pressed, and their impact on his political commitments. Cotton's views on government and society were the product of a man caught up in a conflict between image and reality, torn between a set of different identities: robust doyen of rural squiredom, political and commercial ‘insider’, scholar, and ideologue shaped profoundly by the politico-religious crises of the previous century. The article aims to stimulate a new analysis of the facts of a tory-Jacobite career, and so enhance a debate that is in danger of appearing stale. It aspires to reach a deeper understanding of the meaning and principles of eighteenth-century toryism, beyond the mere counting of ‘Jacobite’ or ‘Hanoverian’ heads.

In recent scholarship, the problem of violence has dominated work on the 1641 Irish rebellion. Unfortunately, no scholarship has addressed the means by which victims of the war survived this conflict. This article uses microhistorical evidence from the 1641 depositions for county Cavan to reconstruct the range of possible survival strategies. Philip MacMulmore O'Reilly, a member of the Irish gentry and kinsman to the Cavan rebels, balanced support for the rebellion with attempts to assist endangered Anglo-Protestant settlers. Although deponents questioned O'Reilly's motives, they agreed that he was instrumental in protecting settlers. George Creichton, a Scottish minister and planter, provides a distinctly different example. Despite his religious views and politics, Creichton forged strong ties to neighbouring Irish before the rising. Although in danger, Creichton mobilized a network of friends, kin, and sympathetic neighbours to protect himself and to assist less fortunate Anglo-Protestant neighbours. These two examples reveal the wider existence of early seventeenth-century social relationships that crossed ethnic and religious lines. In the midst of the chaos of 1641, a significant number of settlers benefited from fragmentation in the rebel ranks and often built their survival strategies upon the social relationships that they had forged in more stable times.

The class and gender identities created by male politicians are vital to a proper understanding of how and why parliament increased women's legal rights in the nineteenth century. An examination of the parliamentary debates on the Married Women's Property Acts of 1870 and 1882 reveals that it is misleading to divide men into supporters and opponents of women's rights, because even some of those who supported the most radical reform did so in the belief that the gender hierarchy should be left intact. At the same time, politicians were reluctant to accept that their own homes should be affected by changes to women's rights, both because they feared that these changes would reduce their domestic authority and create discord in their homes, and because they did not think that the critique of male behaviour which justified the reforms should apply to them or their class. Their ability to confine both charges of abuse and the effects of the acts to the poor was essential to the successful passage of the Married Women's Property Acts. Rather than see this as the defeat of a liberal individualist vision, it was in fact the victory of an alternative strand of Victorian liberalism.

Even during his lifetime, the French revolutionary Girondin leader Jacques-Pierre Brissot de Warville's reputation was tarnished by allegations that, before 1789, he was a swindler, police spy, and political pornographer. These charges resurfaced in 1968 in a celebrated article by Robert Darnton, which found miscellaneous, fragmentary evidence to support them, above all in the papers of the pre-revolutionary police chief, Lenoir. Although Darnton's view has been challenged by several historians, no critic has supplied any substantive new evidence, and hence the Brissot debate remains mired in assertions and counter-assertions. This article finally offers such evidence, drawing both on Darnton's main source, the Lenoir papers, and on sources unavailable to him in 1968, notably records of Brissot's Licée de Londres and his embastillement, now on deposit in the Archives Nationales. While acquiting Brissot on all counts, it finds that Darnton's suspicions were not entirely unfounded. Brissot did have compromising links to both police and political pornographers. Nevertherless, allegations that he spied and wrote scandalous pamphlets appear malicious, despite Brissot's arrest on the latter charge in 1784. The article also attempts to explain Brissot's motivations and the lasting implications of his arrest and persecution in shaping Brissot and the French Revolution.

This article analyses Nathaniel Hone's portrait of Lord and Lady Scarsdale (1761) and the significance that such images have for our understanding of the eighteenth-century family. It first discusses the imagery of the painting and places it in the context of the shift that occurred in family portraiture between 1740 and 1760. Whilst earlier images presented stiffly posed figures, later portraits such as that by Hone came to focus on the sitters' affective relationships. The article argues that, whilst aesthetic influences played a part in this transition, it was chiefly prompted by the sentimentalization of familial ideals. Such ‘promenade portraits’ encapsulated the companionate marriage, hailed as a blend of masculine rationality and feminine tenderness. However, once contextualized within the state rooms for which it was conceived, the Hone portrait also reveals more ‘traditional’ concerns. It makes formal references to accompanying portraits of Stuart monarchs and dignitaries, emphasizing the tory affiliations of the Scarsdales and their loyalty to the Stuart dynasty. The state rooms also contain a portrait of Lord Scarsdale as a baby with his parents and his deceased elder brother. This image affirms the continuation of the male line in the face of high infant mortality rates, a statement that is confirmed in the Hone painting.

Based on hitherto unexplored sources in Lisbon and Goa, this article re-examines the imbroglio relating to the transfer of Bombay from the Portuguese crown to Charles II of England from 1661 to 1665. In doing so, it provides new information on the motivation of the Portuguese viceroy Antonio de Mello de Castro, particularly religious factors, which initially compelled him to refuse to hand over this imperial possession to the English. The article then examines the pivotal importance of the religious policies adopted by the English crown and East India Company, in the years after 1665, in Bombay's rise to commercial prominence by 1687.

Scotland's Unionist culture has already become a world we have lost, investigation of which is hampered by the misleading notion of a ‘Celtic fringe’. Nineteenth-century Lowland Scots were not classified as Celts; indeed they vociferously projected a Teutonic racial identity. Several Scots went so far as to claim not only that the Saxon Scots of the Lowlands were superior to the Celts of the Highlands, but that the people of the Lowlands came from a more purely Anglian stock than the population of southern England. For some Scots the glory of Scottish identity resided in the boast that Lowlanders were more authentically ‘English’ than the English themselves. Moreover, Scottish historians reinterpreted the nation's medieval War of Independence – otherwise a cynosure of patriotism – as an unfortunate civil war within the Saxon race. Curiously, racialism – which was far from monolithic – worked at times both to support and to subvert Scottish involvement in empire. The late nineteenth century also saw the formulation of Scottish proposals for an Anglo-Saxon racial empire including the United States; while Teutonic racialism inflected the nascent Scottish home rule movement as well as the Udal League in Orkney and Shetland.

While British colonial rhetoric consistently identified tradition as the basis of legitimate authority, colonial practice actually produced far-reaching changes in the nature of government in Britain's African possessions. New institutions, and new holders of power, emerged in African societies in response to the particular needs of colonial administration. This article explores this transformation in one part of Condominium Sudan, which was effectively a British possession but which has often been excluded from historical discussions of the impact of colonialism because of its unique status. The Nuba Mountains have recently gained notoriety as a particularly bloody theatre of Sudan's long post-colonial civil war; while some have sought to explain this as the result of British policies which encouraged racial antagonism, the article suggests that here, as elsewhere in Africa, the real legacy of colonial rule was the creation of new kinds of local government which sat uneasily with enduring local ideas of spiritual power and proper authority.

In the 1840s the German Romantic August von Haxthausen originated the idea, in a book reporting on his travels through Russia, that collective ownership of land and other assets was integral to the traditional culture of the Russian rural commune. Russian intellectuals accepted this idea and made it the basis for political ideals and social theories (even after 1917, as in the case of Aleksandr Chayanov). The 1861 Emancipation Act had brought collective ownership of land into existence by law, but Haxthausen's own theory – which related to Yaroslavl' province in the first half of the nineteenth century – has never been tested. This article does that, and finds that nearly all parts of Haxthausen's theory, insofar as they are testable, are false. This does not mean that Haxthausen's theory was false everywhere in Russia, but it was false for the place he advanced it about, and may therefore be false elsewhere. No cultural or ownership pattern of rural society, therefore, should be assumed a priori to hold for the whole of Russia. Only painstaking, detailed local studies will tell us which patterns held in which parts of this vast and heterogeneous country.

Although his activity as a private collector has been documented, the extent to which William Ewart Gladstone's interest in art was implicated in his thought on church and state has been overlooked. Previously unnoticed memoranda and correspondence of the 1830s and 1840s with the French art historian and Roman Catholic thinker, François Rio, demonstrate a fascination with religious painting of early Renaissance Italy, of the sort which only came to be appreciated in Britain many years later. For Rio, however, introducing Gladstone to ‘Christian art’ was as much about encouraging Gladstone in his hopes of reuniting the Protestant and Catholic churches as it was about reforming his taste. The manuscripts considered here show Gladstone to have viewed art history in terms of a struggle between sanctity and sensuality, visualized in terms both of the individual as well as of nationalities. In so far as the young Conservative politician formulated this history in tandem with his theory of the religious personality of the state, a study of his model of Christian art's development affords a new path into an old debate: did Gladstone betray the principles of his first book, The state in its relations with the church (1838) in his subsequent political evolution into Liberal statesman?

After the foundation of the Communist International in 1919, leftists within the Socialist Party of Ireland won Comintern backing for an Irish communist party. Encouraged by Moscow, the communists hoped to offset their marginality through the republican movement. The Communist Party of Ireland denounced the Anglo-Irish treaty, welcomed the Irish Civil War, and pledged total support to the IRA. As the war turned against them, some republicans favoured an alliance with the communists. In August 1922 Comintern agents and two IRA leaders signed a draft agreement providing for secret military aid to the IRA in return for the development of a new republican party with a radical social programme. The deal was not ratified on either side, and in 1923 the Communist Party of Ireland followed Comintern instructions to ‘turn to class politics’. The party encountered increasing difficulties and was liquidated in January 1924. The communist intervention in the Civil War highlights the contrast between Comintern and Russian state policy on Ireland, and was seminal in the evolution of Irish socialist republicanism.

Based largely on primary sources, this article concentrates on the Liberal administration led by Count Romanones between December 1915 and April 1917. This is regarded as a crucial moment in the country's transition from elite to mass politics. The social and economic impact of the First World war brought about massive economic dislocation and social distress that in turn generated unprecedented levels of popular mobilization against the regime. Intertwined with domestic uproar, the country was polarized by the question of neutrality. Alienated from the ruling classes by his pro-Allied stance, Romanones was not only the target of a fierce campaign to oust him but also presided over the acceleration of existing movements of social and political protest. At his fall in April 1917, he left behind a storm of discontent and turmoil that threatened to bring down the entire political order.

Prominent French men of letters began to claim that the student body at the acting Conservatory, which bore a morally dubious reputation, was becoming more bourgeois than ever before as the nineteenth century ended. They interpreted the entry of the bourgeoisie as one more manifestation of national decay. In fact, the major shift in recruitment was the growing number of women from respectable, bourgeois backgrounds. The new pattern signalled an expansion in women's autonomy as individuals. Thus, the writers' pessimism obscured the fact that the early Third Republic was keeping some of its democratic promises. The findings indicate that a reassessment of France's capacity for progressive cultural change in the fin de siècle is in order.