This article addresses one aspect of the legal proceedings known collectively as the ‘Nuremberg trials’: British policy towards, and trials of, Nazi war criminals in the British zone of occupied Germany. The killing of fifty allied airmen after their escape from Stalag Luft III illustrates how atrocities against British POWs affected British war crimes policy. The article examines one part of that policy: the efforts to expedite trials and the decision to end them. It examines the ambivalence that characterized British attitudes towards war crimes trials, and also discusses British hopes for an expeditious trial programme and political and legal objections to delays in prosecutions. Finally, it shows that concerns about the Stalag Luft III case led to extensions in the trial programme, but that eventually the programme was subordinated to Britain's broader policy of reintegrating Germany into the western fold.

The Treaty of Sèvres was stillborn. It was signed on 10 August 1920, as a treaty of peace between the principal Allied Powers and Turkey, but was never ratified. During the succeeding two years, the triumphs of Mustapha Kemal were to render the projected peace terms obsolete and to necessitate the negotiation of an entirely new treaty. But the failure of the Treaty of Sevres cannot be attributed to Kemal alone. The seeds of disaster lay in the conflicting interests of the Allies themselves.

The inter-war period saw the decline of the Liberal party, the traditional political ally of the free churches, and the rise of the Labour party. This article traces the responses of the free churches to these developments. The relationship of the free churches with the Labour party in this period is examined at three different levels; that of the free church leadership, that of the chapels and the ordinary people in the pews and that of the nonconformists who became active in the Labour party. Whilst attitudes towards the Labour party changed within free church institutions during the inter-war years they did not become important supporters of the party, or greatly influence it. The number and proportion of individual nonconformists who were active and influential in the party in this period was however considerable. In the process not only did Labour M.P.s become the main carriers of the nonconformist conscience on issues such as drink and gambling. They also made a distinctive and important contribution to the development and ideals of the Labour party.

Using records from 113 manors in Yorkshire and elsewhere, this article surveys the changing role of manor courts in English local government over three centuries. These institutions allowed juries of established tenants to deal cheaply and easily with a variety of chronic concerns, including crime, migration, retailing, common lands, and infrastructure. Their focus varied significantly according to region, topography, settlement size, and time period, but active courts existed in most parts of the country throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Ultimately, they had many valuable functions which historians have barely begun to explore. This article thus offers the most systematic analysis to date of the role of these institutions in making and enforcing by-laws in this period, showing that many of the courts evolved to suit the changing priorities of local tenants rather than falling rapidly into ruin as has sometimes been assumed.

This article examines the final years of French rule in India. It questions the established narrative of the merger of the French settlements, which implied that they were always a ‘natural’ part of the Indian Union. It argues, on the contrary, that a full merger was only one of several possibilities for the various actors involved in the negotiations that took place between the independence of India in 1947 and the French withdrawal in 1954. Even those who supported a merger did so for different reasons, while a significant proportion opposed the merger on economic, social, and historical grounds. By examining more closely the opposing positions in the merger debate, we can locate them within the larger tensions of early post-colonial India – a new state that was struggling to define its geographical and ideological boundaries. This suggests that the decolonization of French India was not simply another chapter in French imperial decline; it was also an important example of Indian nation-building.

This essay surveys the wave of new literature on early modern migration and assesses its impact on the Dutch golden age. From the late sixteenth century, the Netherlands developed into an international hub of religious refugees, displaced minorities, and labour migrants. While migration to the Dutch Republic has often been studied in socio-economic terms, recent historiography has turned the focus of attention to its many cultural resonances. More specifically, it has been noted that the arrival of thousands of newcomers generated the construction of new patriotic narratives and cultural codes in Dutch society. The experience of civil war and forced migration during the Dutch revolt had already fostered the development of a national discourse that framed religious exile as a heroic experience. In the seventeenth century, the accommodation of persecuted minorities could therefore be presented as something typically ‘Dutch’. It followed that diaspora identities and signs of transnational religious solidarity developed into markers of social respectability and tools of cultural integration. The notion of a ‘republic of the refugees’ had profound international implications, too, because it shaped and justified Dutch interventions abroad.

In explaining Britain's post-war relative economic decline, contemporary historians have concentrated upon ‘government failure’: not enough, too much, or too much of the wrong sort of government intervention. Implicitly, such explanations conceive the British state as both centralized and powerful. Recent developments in political science have questioned this traditional view. Using this insight to structure its historical analysis, this article examines the wide array of policy changes that flowed from the British government's adoption in the early 1960s of an explicit target for higher growth. It finds that the principal reasons for the failure of these policies can be found in the fragmentation and interdependence of Britain's economic institutions – the source of which lay in the particular historical development of Britain's polity. These issues of governance required new conceptions of both policy making and policy implementation able either to strengthen the power of the centre to impose change, or to promote consensus building. However, lacking a sufficient shock to the system, and imprisoned in a mindset in which the British state was conceived as both centralized and powerful, elites saw little need for fundamental institutional change.

The idea that war was a football match writ large was commonly expressed in Britain during the First World War. This article looks at the attitudes and actions of the English Rugby Football Union and its supporters before, during, and after the First World War to examine how such beliefs were utilized by sports organizations and the impact they had on the military and on society as a whole. Rugby union football was viewed both by its supporters and general observers alike as the most enthusiastic and committed sporting supporter of the war effort; the article explores rugby's overtly ideological stance as a means of shedding light on broader discussions about the cultural impact of the war, such as in the works of Paul Fussell and Jay Winter, and about the continued survival of traditional and Edwardian ideas of patriotism among the English middle classes in the immediate post-war period.

On 28 January 1689 the house of commons of the newly assembled Convention resolved that King James the Second, having endeavoured to subvert the constitution of this kingdom, by breaking the original contract between king and people, and by the advice of Jesuits and other wicked persons, having violated the fundamental laws, and having withdrawn himself out of the kingdom, has abdicated the government and that the throne is thereby vacant.

The relationship between intellectual secularization and the writing of academic history has long been one of the major neglected themes in British historiography, and its unexamined presuppositions are explored here in relation to the religious history of the eighteenth century. A great deal of the history of eighteenth-century religion has been written from a confessional standpoint, and this has served further to marginalize discussion of the subject in a period of history concerning which secular interpretations continue to prevail. A reunion of the religious and the secular is a major desideratum in the writing of eighteenth-century history, and this applies not only to historians of religion but also, a fortiori, to political, social, and cultural historians. The perspectives offered by such historians are critically examined, and the need for them to take seriously the integral part of religious history in the broader history of the period is emphasized accordingly.

This paper examines an important and rather neglected forum for popular discussion – the debating society – in London in 1780. This was the first full year that debating societies left their semi-private, club-like sites and took to new rooms, all across the metropolitan area. These new venues were large (seating between 400 and 1200) commercial settings, where men and women could come to speak and to listen, to enjoy an evening of rational entertainment at a small price. Using the many daily London newspapers as its main source, this essay examines the audiences present at these debates, the types of questions asked and the nature of the responses, when known, and surveys the wide range of reactions to such activity. Finally, it suggests some explanations for and evaluations of the growth and decline of this important cultural form.

Some time soon after the execution of Charles I, the new rulers of England began seriously to consider imposing an oath of loyalty to the new republic. On 22 February the Council of State were directed to take an ‘Engagement’ to the regime, and for the rest of 1649 there were periodic suggestions to extend this Engagement to wider sections of the political nation, and especially to office holders. Finally, on 2 January 1650, the Rump decided that all men over the age of 18 would take an Engagement, of the form I do declare and promise, that I will be true and faithful to the Commonwealth of England, as it is now established, without a King or House of Lords

There is general agreement among scholars of military history on the main features of military developments during the transition from the middle ages to the early modern period. A brief sketch of the broad outlines of these developments may therefore suffice as a preface to an investigation of Danish knight service in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

The decisive factor in the medieval army was the fully armoured, lancebearing mounted knight. The battlefield was totally dominated by the combat technique of these bands of qualifizierten Einzelkämpfern, offensive combat at close quarters. The remaining forces, in contrast, functioned merely as auxiliaries to the main arm - the heavy mounted knights.

An economic theory implies an ethical system, a political purpose, and a psychological hypothesis. Throughout almost the entire nineteenth century in Britain laissez-faire capitalism, with its concomitant values of personal thrift and industry, parliamentary government, and promise of social mobility through self-improvement, was triumphant. Many, if not most, Englishmen believed that the classical political economists had discovered and formulated the ‘laws of political economy’ in the same ineluctable manner that Isaac Newton had determined the laws of physics. ‘To many’, as G. Kitson Clark has written, the political economists ‘were the best minds in the country whose teaching it was folly to question and disastrous to disobey’. However much Englishmen might deplore the social and human consequences of the operation of the ‘laws of political economy’, most were convinced that opposition to those ‘laws’ was futile.

The nineteenth century witnessed a major expansion in the construction of public works including canals, roads, and railways across the British empire. The question that colonial governments faced during the nineteenth century was on how to finance public works. Focusing specifically on irrigation works and the rivers of southern India, this article shows how different experiments were attempted, including raising capital and labour from local communities as well as corporate investment in irrigation works through London capital markets. The article argues that by the latter part of the nineteenth century, a definitive answer had emerged, i.e. irrigation projects on rivers would be financed through state debt. An enormous body of scholarship in Britain and India debated the relationship between public works and public debt. This article rethinks this scholarship as a technological and environmental history. The article argues that colonial modes of raising capital were dependent on speculating on Indian rivers. Historiography wise, in contrast to scholarship which takes for granted the role of the state in building large dams, it suggests that the emergence of the state as the builder of large dams was part of a more fundamental relationship between rivers, technology, and colonial capital that emerged in the nineteenth century.

This review looks at English- and French-language books on nineteenth- and twentieth-century French colonial history published since 1995. It considers issues of ideology, imperial governance, the mise en valeur (development and ‘improvement’) of colonies (for instance, in health and education policy), the representation of empire in art and architecture, and decolonization. Special attention is paid to Indochina. Recent works have stressed the evolving nature of colonial policy and its adaptability to local circumstances. The review notes a certain divide between works emphasizing the discursive aspect of empire, and more ‘materialist’ treatments, but remarks on a general renewal of interest in colonial history. Contemporary scholars have also given colonial history a more prominent position in French national history than it previously held.

The concept of coming to terms with the past originated in post-1945 West Germany but such historical therapy is evident in all the belligerent countries. In that process, the two world wars are intricately connected, each seen refractively through the prism of the other. This article focuses on Britain whose national obsession with the two world wars is particularly acute. The first and second sections suggest that British public discourse has been able to construct a satisfying narrative of 1939–45 but not of 1914–18, meaning a narrative that has both a clear beginning, middle, and end and also a stark moral meaning. Viable narratives draw on the events themselves, the words used to conceptualize them, and the interpretations of 'instant' histories and memoirs. The third section argues that the elevation of 1939–45 in national discourse as our ‘finest hour’ (Churchill) has aggravated the problematic nature of 1914–18 for the British. In the wake of Brexit, the last section argues that Britain – unlike France and Germany – has found it difficult to move on from the era of the two world wars by locating these conflicts in a more positive narrative of the twentieth century as the eventual triumph of European integration.

Since the advent of the social sciences, historians have been ploughing up large areas of well-trampled history. Sociology, for example, has lent them an expanding range of hypotheses and interpretations. In particular, studies more concerned with behavioural patterns than with the mere details of what happened have cast the traditional accounts aside. But there are dangers in this rush to produce fresh formulations. The historian, once caught in the tangle of an ingenious general explanation, abandons too easily the normal rigorous standards of historical research. Frequendy, in such cases, he fails to establish the relationship between his evidence and his generalizations. These criticisms often apply when broad concepts from political sociology are used to explain the motives and behaviour of specific politicians and groups of politicians. Any background study of the Great Reform Act is exposed to all these risks.