The Social Democratic Federation (SDF) was the major representative of Second International socialism on British soil. As a socialist organization it is usually viewed through the distorting prism of the Russian Revolution and its aftermath. This article sets out to analyse the organization's strategy in its proper context – that of the struggle to transform Victorian and Edwardian Britain into the co-operative commonwealth. SDF views on the nature of revolution and what members called ‘palliative’ reforms are considered, as are their views on the character of the British state, the nature of democracy, the role of parliament, and the potential for violence at times of change. For them, the transition to socialism would be effected by well-fed, organized workers with a degree of education and culture, and their social reforms were designed to bring this revolutionary class into being. Campaigns against unemployment, work on school boards, boards of guardians, and local councils are found to have been conducted both as ends in themselves, and as a part of a grander strategy for the attainment of socialism. The SDF was a ‘parliamentary revolutionary party’ which sought to use reforms constructively in order to bring about the transformation of British society.

The launch of the East India Company in 1599 relied on the engagement of an investing public. Despite this, little is known about how and why ordinary individual investors chose to invest in the corporation or what institutional frameworks supported them. While the later ‘financial revolution’ would radically alter the relationship between the state, investors, and financial organizations, this process does not adequately explain the earlier development of an investing public. Using a newly developed dataset of members’ familial, neighbourhood, civic, and business connections, this article reconstructs the social networks of East India Company investors in 1599. This analysis reveals that the company was formulated within an intensely interconnected investment environment – linkages that were used to distribute information and provide access to seemingly illiquid markets. Social networks played a key role in how people decided about where, when, with whom, and how much to invest during the expansion of investment opportunities in early modern England.

One of the most fertile grounds for diplomatic and journalistic speculation in the late 1920s was the series of private meetings between Sir Austen Chamberlain and Benito Mussolini. During Sir Austen's tenure of the Foreign Secretary's portfolio, from November 1924 to June 1929, the two met five times in complete privacy, without aides or even interpreters, since both spoke fluent French. The communiqués they subsequently issued were conglomerations of clichés, stressing their personal friendship and political harmony but omitting any specific reference to the subjects discussed. It is not surprising, therefore, that rumours of secret agreements and cynical deals abounded. Indeed, Mussolini was compelled publicly to deny the widespread assumption diat he sought and received Sir Austen's approval for Italian foreign policy at these meetings,1 while Chamberlain was obliged to take his holidays in 1927 in Spain to avoid the ’ undesirable political speculation ‘ that would have followed another visit to his beloved Italy.2 The evidence of the Chamberlain Papers and the British and Italian diplomatic documents suggests that much of the speculation was very wide of the mark.3

No secular institution of the English Church has left behind richer materials for the study of its history in the twelfth century than the cathedral chapter of St Paul's. There is a fine series of original charters, and two important cartularies; fragments of a twelfth-century survey, and a complete survey of the early thirteenth century from which a long stretch of agrarian history can be reconstructed. The letter collections of Gilbert Foliot, bishop from 1163 to 1187, Master David of London and Peter of Blois, and the splendid thirteenth-century inventories give an insight into the activities, characters and tastes of many of the canons. The chronicle and ordinances of Master Ralph de Diceto, the most distinguished of its deans; a sprinkling of hagiographical and theological writings; calendars and obit rolls; and a catalogue of the holders of the thirty prebends, purporting to start in the days of Bishop Maurice (1086–1107)—these and numerous other more incidental sources of information go to make up the tale of the evidence.

The clergyman-scholar Charles Dodd used the study of the past to articulate a defence of the English Catholic community that enjoyed a rich legacy. His Church history proclaimed a vision of Catholic patriotism that appealed to the influence of medieval and Reformation history on contemporary religious debates, and informed the later push for civil emancipation. Dodd's work brought together two fashionable but seemingly contrary, historical sensibilities: grounded upon antiquarian recoveries of the gothic past, but shaped by a cosmopolitan spirit of ‘reason’ that drew upon continental reformist schools. Challenging the narratives forged through the Reformation, he pitched his works across a wide spectrum of English scholarly life, seeking dialogue with high-churchmen, constitutionalists, and supporters of religious toleration. But Dodd's later reputation as a herald of Catholic Enlightenment belied the controversies roused in his career. In delivering his view of history, Dodd was forced to suppress radical thoughts on the nature of English monarchy, stumbled into conflicts with fellow clergymen, and risked the taint of heresy with reflections upon the Holy See. Conceived to construct a new intellectual platform for his co-religionists within their national community, his works served inadvertently to reveal the complexity and fragility of English Catholic life.

Thomas Carlyle's promotion of Sir Robert Peel as a heroic statesman capable of presiding over a strongly interventionist state is paradoxical in light of the latter's rejection of paternalistic government. This paradox is heightened by Carlyle's hostility to the whigs: some members of this party identified an active role for the state and struggled against tendencies in whiggism which were connected to the ‘liberal toryism’ of Peel and his followers. An examination of Carlyle's knowledge of, and attitude towards, Peel shows that he was aware of his attraction to liberal economic ideas. However, Carlyle believed that Peel's sense of moral purpose and his cool view of conventional parliamentarianism were indicative of heroic potentials that were not possessed by whig politicians. The popularity which Peel enjoyed in the late 1840s was attributed by Carlyle to a widespread appreciation of his distinctive qualities; this provided the grounds for a generalized heroism which could be focused in an active state that was freed from the trammels of both economic liberalism and parliamentarianism.

Queen Victoria made important financial concessions to parliament over the course of her reign. She accepted a smaller civil list and a smaller annuity for her consort than had been paid to any of her predecessors. She disclosed the accounts of the duchies of Lancaster and Cornwall, both of which had formerly been considered private property. She also reduced her income by subjecting it to the newly re-instituted income tax. Despite these concessions, she managed to acquire a considerable private fortune. The principal sources of this fortune were improving incomes from the two duchies and better management of the civil list. Both sources benefited from reforms imposed by the prince consort. The queen used her private fortune to pay for items formerly paid for from public funds. She built houses and erected monuments. She paid partly for the golden jubilee and wholly for the debts that accumulated when the civil list became inadequate from the 1880s. Parliament in turn used evidence of her private fortune to decrease the size and number of public grants to her offspring. Thus, increased parliamentary supervision and better regulation of the civil list improved the queen's private financial position, but also reduced the public burdens.

The purpose of the article is to examine the official response to the widespread series of disorders occurring in France following poor harvests in the 1840s and 1850s. A large number of studies of popular protest have been written in recent years. Most have failed to consider the forms of repression employed, and yet this is an essential means of understanding both the scale and the characteristics of protest. Our essential concern is thus with the techniques of repression employed in this period prior to the development of modern police and bureaucratic systems.

Richard Cobden, John Bright and Joseph Chamberlain were the most famous and influential reform agitators of the Victorian era. Collectively they ensured that much British political development in the period was influenced by ideas associated first with Manchester and then with Birmingham. In this context, Blight's career was particularly important since he was the only one of the trio who had close links with the other two and with both Manchester and Birmingham. Bright's partnership with Cobden in the Anti-Corn-Law League has long been an historical cliché and has been closely studied. Yet Cobden died in 1865 and Bright outlived him for twenty-four years. During that period Bright pursued a political career which often owed little to Cobden's influence. He also became a Liberal cabinet minister on three occasions: an honour declined by Cobden. Moreover Bright developed a close association with the rising radical leader Joseph Chamberlain. Yet their relationship has received scant attention from historians.

Recent literature on the Holocaust and (other) genocides reveals that on the whole differences in approach persist. For many historians, as for the public, the Holocaust is the prototypical genocide, such that mass violence must resemble the Holocaust to constitute genocide. Whereas ‘normal’ ethnic/national conflict is commonly believed to involve ‘real’ issues like land, resources, and political power, no such conflict is discernible in the Holocaust of European Jewry, whose victims were passive and agentless objects of the ‘hallucinatory’ ideology of the perpetrators. But is this distinction sustainable on closer inspection? This review suggests that genocide is mistakenly identified as a massive hate crime based entirely on ‘race’. In fact, it has a political logic: irrational or at least exaggerated fears about subversion and national or ‘ethnic’ security. Prejudices do not cause violence: they are mobilized in conditions of emergency. Recent research tends in this direction by emphasizing paranoia rather than racism in the anti-Jewish policies of the Nazis but does not transcend the customary distinction between the ‘delusional’ grounds for the former and ‘real’ ethnic conflict. This separation of categories feeds into the anxieties in some contributors to this literature about potential genocides in the present by forecasting apocalyptic scenarios unless drastic military action is taken against specified enemies. Scholarship is better served by deflating rather than inflating such anxieties.

The construction and distribution of books containing large copperplate images was of great importance to practitioners of natural history during the eighteenth century. This article examines the case of the botanist and president of the Royal Society Sir Joseph Banks (1743–1820), who attempted to publish a series of images based on the botanical illustrations produced by Georg Forster (1754–94) on Cook's second voyage of exploration (1772–5) during the 1790s. The analysis reveals how the French Revolution influenced approaches to constructing and distributing works of natural history in Britain, moving beyond commercial studies of book production to show how Banks's political agenda shaped the taxonomic content and distribution of this publication. Matters were complicated by Forster's association with radical politics and the revolutionary ideologies attached to materials collected in the Pacific by the 1790s. Banks's response to the Revolution influenced the distribution of this great work, showing how British loyalist agendas interacted with scientific practice and shaped the diffusion of natural knowledge in the revolutionary age.

On 26 April 1920 the Polish army launched a major offensive against Soviet Russia. The question of the French government's role in the unleashing of this attack has long been a matter of historical debate. P. S. Wandycz, whose work is the most recent detailed account of French eastern policy during the early twenties, attributes no major responsibility to the French for the outbreak of all-out war on Poland's eastern frontier. He states that the Quai d'Orsay was unenthusiastic about a Polish campaign and that the Poles had acted on their own initiative. N. Davies asserts that ‘Allied policy sought to discourage Poland from attacking Russia.’ ‘Without formally forbidding a Polish offensive,’ he writes, the Allies ‘emphasized that it “the offensive’ could not enjoy their support. On the other hand, Soviet and European Left-wing opinion has long condemned the Polish attack as a direct result of French influence. Vladimir Potemkin noted that Poland was incapable of waging a full-scale war with its own resources and that consequently Allied influence had to be decisive in determining Warsaw's attitude toward a continuation of the war.

Many scholars claim that the world has had many ‘renaissances’ in its long history: they advocate what we could call the ‘multiple renaissances’ thesis. In this article, I will focus on the history of this idea. Where and when did the ‘multiple renaissances’ thesis emerge? What intellectual exchanges and historical conditions made it possible? To answer these questions, I will first draw up a short genealogy of the idea that the European/Italian Renaissance is a ‘culture’ or a ‘social type’; then, I will show that such typological use of the renaissance made it possible to apply this concept to different historical and social configurations, not only within, but also outside Europe; finally, through an analysis of the relation between Arnold Toynbee and Hu Shi, I will show that the uses of the renaissance category in the non-European world, especially in East Asia, contributed to shaping the ‘multiple renaissances’ thesis and, through it, to redefining the perception of the renaissance in Europe proper.

This article seeks to demonstrate the structure of attitudes in British colonial officialdom through a case study of Mauritius from the governorship of Sir John Pope Hennessy to decolonization. It suggests that officials consistently saw Mauritians as a whole as ‘the Others’, while seeking both to divide and rule them – into an émigré French elite left over from the French colonial period at the time of British conquest (1810), a Creole community, and an Indian community – without assimilating them; and to suspect each in turn of disloyalty and treachery. By a grim irony, many of the governors and their officials were suspected by the colonial office of joining the Others. This is thus a story of an adaptable imperial paranoia.