On 2 July 1681 the earl of Shaftesbury was arrested and sent to the Tower, charged with high treason. As a peer he was entitled to be tried by his fellow peers, but before this could happen he would have to be indicted by a grand jury of commoners. Since an indictment could only be presented by a jury from the county in which the alleged offence had been committed, this meant that unless evidence from elsewhere were forthcoming the bill would have to be preferred in London. This created severe problems for the prosecution, because the London sheriffs were intransigent whigs who had flagrantly been packing the jury panels with like-minded supporters. Shaftesbury's fate would depend on whether the judges were entitled to remove such persons and replace them with others of a different persuasion.

In his volume in the Oxford History of England, R. C. K. Ensor gave us the first scholarly and dispassionate account of the reforms which Edward Cardwell made in the British army between 1868 and 1874. Ensor consciously followed Gladstone, who called Cardwell the greatest war secretary since die era of die Napoleonic wars. Ever since Ensor wrote, it has been impossible to do what Fortescue, the army's historian, did when he wrote whole chapters on the army after the Crimean War without once mentioning the name of Cardwell. Among more recent scholars diere has been a good deal of writing around the subject of the Cardwell reforms widiout actually attacking them head-on. We have a brief biography of Cardwell which quotes at some length from his correspondence, and we have a description of the purchase system in the army. There have been studies of a part of the background of the Cardwell era, and of die working-out of the reforms in the army of the 1870s and 1880s. Two recent works have been rather critical of the value of Cardwell's work.

Anyone who studies eighteenth-century British politics soon becomes aware of a lack of definite form in the major institutions of government. Contemporaries, although equally aware of this imprecision, did not consider that it detracted from the utility of the constitution. On the contrary the vagaries of the system were often cited as its chief asset, permitting such apparently irreconcilable elements as parliamentary supremacy and a royal executive to exist together in balanced harmony. Burke, the constitution's most eloquent defender, called this quality of comprehensiveness a ‘unity in so great a diversity of its parts’, and believed that such unity was capable of sheltering both prescriptive rights and necessary adaptations in society. But the quality which men of the eighteenth century were agreed to admire has been viewed less sympathetically by later writers, intent on clarifying points which contemporaries preferred to leave open. The whig historians of the nineteenth century attempted to cut through difficulties by treating as unworthy of consideration in the eighteenth-century scene those features which did not survive in the era of reform. The misinterpretations which thereby arose brought about a necessary reaction in the present century, especially from the late Sir Lewis Namier whose research revealed the Georgian scene as having a more traditional structure of politics and society than was previously supposed. But Namier's own work too paid disproportionate attention to parts of the scene at the expense of others, though he undoubtedly did so because the difficulty of dislodging a well-established whig orthodoxy led him to overstate his case.

Scholarly interest in early modern sweets has focused on the central role of these food products as markers of social distinction and conspicuous consumption in elite contexts, mainly centred on northern Europe and Italy. Less fully understood are the ways in which the increasing demand for sugar and sweets informed their production and marketing at local levels, in particular in non-courtly urban areas. This article examines the legal case against the baker Josep Cortés, accused of making and selling sponge biscuits in violation of the privilege of confectioners in late seventeenth-century Barcelona. It addresses how confectioners and bakers materially and discursively defined their products based on the use of certain ingredients, utensils, and skill. This article also illustrates a shift from a generic idea of sweetness to one which was explicitly linked to sugar in the period when sugar was becoming a semi-affordable commodity in Europe. By addressing diverse source materials including court records, printed cookbooks, handwritten recipes, and inventories, this case study exemplifies the significant material and cultural dimensions that sugar adopted during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.

The writing of ecclesiastical history is rarely disinterested, and this was especially so in eighteenth-century England. Its leading practitioner, John Jortin, wrote with a clear, determined, and dynamic purpose: to offer an effective critique of orthodoxy and its ally, persecution, and to secure civil and religious liberty in a way commensurate with maintaining an established church and liberal learning. His life and writings meditated on early eighteenth-century tendencies in thought and scholarship in a spirit that allowed often radical developments to take place. Unambiguously heterodox in tone and conclusions, Jortin's researches were drawn on by radical dissent. A scion of a Huguenot family, Jortin was a critical mediator between the culture of the Huguenot Refuge and English scholarship. He was a pioneer in the study of English literature, moving such study away from the narrowly philological methods of Richard Bentley towards more reflective literary scholarship. Above all, Jortin was determined that the Republic of Letters should be a Christian Republic; his contribution to and experience of Enlightenment substantiates J. G. A. Pocock's contention that, in England, it was largely clerical and conservative: study of Jortin in context challenges the hegemony of the Radical Enlightenment thesis that is rapidly becoming an interpretative orthodoxy.

The Afghan war blue books of 1839 have usually been regarded as classic examples of the way official documents can be mutilated by skilful and unscrupulous editing almost to the point of forgery. Sir William Kaye's monumental and authoritative history of the first Afghan war, published in 1851, contains this crushing indictment:

I cannot, indeed, suppress the utterance of my abhorrence of this system of grabling the official correspondece of public men-sending the letters of a statesman or diplomatist into the world mutilated, emasculated-the very pith and substance of them cut is palmed upon the world has not one redeeming feature.

Drawing its information from different documents in Portuguese and French archives, this article examines the evolution of Portuguese colonial policies towards Islam, focusing on the special case of Mozambique. Such policies evolved from an attitude of neglect and open repression, prevalent in the early years of the colonial war that broke out in 1965, when Muslims were perceived as the main supporters of the anti-colonial guerrilla in northern Mozambique, to an approach that tried to isolate ‘African Muslims’ from foreign influences in order to align them with the Portuguese. The article analyses the latter strategy, assessing its successes and failures, and the contributions made by several of those who were involved.

The article reconstructs the seventeenth-century Dutch debate about the proper method to reconstruct the biblical temples of Jerusalem. It examines the involvement of Willem Goeree (1635–1711), an expert in architectural theory, in this debate which was dominated by philologically trained scholars. The article suggests that the clash between professional exegetes and a lay theologian like Goeree allows us to see hermeneutical debates of the early Enlightenment in a new light. While the skilled professional aspired to make arcane Temple scholarship accessible to a wider lay audience, theologians denied him the competence to do so, insisting on the primacy of sacred philology in interpreting the Bible. This case thus moves outside of the dogma vs reason dichotomy which dominates historiography concerning early modern biblical interpretation.

This article looks at the attempts made by British governments after the Seven Years War to reduce colonial consumption of continental European manufactures. It begins by sketching the pre-war background, focusing first on the availability of European goods in North America and the Caribbean and then on British debates about foreign commodity penetration of the Atlantic colonies. The next part charts the emergence after 1763 of a political consensus in London on the need to give British goods added advantage in American markets. The article goes on to suggest reasons for the forming of this consensus, and finally considers the success of the measures introduced by British governments to diminish colonial purchases of European products.

This article investigates the attempt by Russian theatre people to ‘professionalize’ their vocation during the late tsarist period. It argues that theatrical professionalization differed from standard paradigms because fundamentally it was designed to address material impoverishment, rather than to protect existing occupational privileges. Theatre people believed that ‘professional’ status would defend them from the effects of the burgeoning commercial entertainment market. Thus they represented the gradual ‘democratization’ of the professional ideal, its diffusion amongst occupational groups not traditionally classified as ‘professions’. From 1894, a national regulatory association, the Russian Theatre Society, represented theatre people's interests and persuaded the government to subsidize its activities. Yet the boundaries between state involvement and self-regulation were never clearly defined, creating an underlying tension within the Society about the extent of its relations with the state, a problem that was exposed during the 1905 revolution.

In contrast to the innumerable studies of the revolutionary movement in risorgimento Italy, the popular counter-revolutionary movement has received scant attention from historians. Reasons for this neglect are not hard to find: distaste for what is perceived as a retrograde movement on behalf of a deservedly lost cause reinforces the normal tendency of historians to concentrate on the ‘winners’ rather than the ‘losers’ who by their very nature seem of less significance. That the Italian popular counter-revolution, was among the losers of history is undeniable: it did not succeed in its own time, nor did it contribute to any of the great progressive movements that transformed European society over the next century. Nonetheless, this neglect seems unjustified. To ignore a movement that had the support of a sizeable part of the Italian people – indeed, greater support at times than the risorgimento itself, which few historians would deny was the work of a small elite – can only result in a very distorted picture of nineteenth-century Italy. Moreover, to understand the development of a complex historical event such as the risorgimento, it is not sufficient to study only the winners, for the nature and weaknesses of the losers may also have played a major role in determining the outcome. This raises a fundamental question concerning the Italian counter-revolution: enjoying as it did wide popular support, why did it accomplish so little? It had its moments of triumph, but in general its record was unimpressive. Why did not this reservoir of popular support give conservatives the upper hand and abort the risorgimento? Why, in particular, did conservative governments make so little use of this apparently potent ally?

Discussions of classical scholarship and of the Anglican church in Victorian England have both at times identified an ‘age of the Greek-play bishop’ during which there was a close relationship between classical distinction and episcopal promotion. Closer investigation reveals few prelates fitting the description. This article explains this paradox by tracing the idea of the ‘Greek-play bishop’ across a variety of nineteenth-century literatures, in the process suggesting the significance more generally of the migration of ideas between overlapping Victorian print cultures. The article demonstrates how the concept originated in the radical critique of Old Corruption around 1830, before in the 1840s and 1850s satirists (notably Sydney Smith) adopted it in ad personam assaults on two bishops, J. H. Monk and C. J. Blomfield. In the 1860s, the concept became a less polemical category in the context of more wide-ranging analyses of the composition of the episcopate, gradually acquiring an elegiac aspect as new intellectual challenges arose to Victorian Christianity. By 1900, the ‘Greek-play bishop’ had begun to find the place in the conceptual armoury of historians of the nineteenth-century church that it would hold for much of the twentieth century, its polemical origins long forgotten.