Between the Reformation and catholic emancipation a succession of statutory and other provisions was framed by the authorities in Dublin and London with the intention of enforcing religious conformity Persons who refused to conform were rendered liable to various disabilities and penalties of a severe nature. Discrimination became widespread in the first half of the eighteenth century with what were collectively known as the penal laws. These contained general provisions which touched all citizens in relation to many aspects of their lives, especially the holding of land. But from 1537 there were also specific measures aimed at particular groups, including the legal profession. These measures ensured that appointments to the bench could continue to be manipulated on the basis of loyalty to the established church. Long after the first relaxation of the penal laws, catholic lawyers who refused to conform were still excluded from the higher ranks of the legal profession. The purpose of this paper is to examine the extent to which statutory and other requirements, introduced from 1537 onwards, were effective in excluding Roman Catholics from legal practice and in achieving outward religious conformity among lawyers between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries.

Much more so than in modern times, sharp cultural and social differences distinguished the various peoples inhabiting the British Isles in the later middle ages. Not surprisingly these differences and the interaction between medieval forms of culture and society have attracted considerable attention by historians. By comparison with other fields of research, we know much about the impact of the Westminster government on the various regions of the English polity, about the interaction between highland and lowland Scotland and about the similarities and differences between English and Gaelic Ireland. Yet the historical coverage of these questions has been uneven, and what at first glance might appear obvious and promising lines of inquiry have been largely neglected — for example the relationship between Gaelic Ireland and Gaelic Scotland, or between Wales, the north of England and the lordship of Ireland as borderlands of the English polity. No doubt the nature and extent of the surviving evidence is an important factor in explaining this unevenness, but in fact studies of interaction between different cultures seem to reflect not so much their intrinsic importance for our understanding of different late medieval societies as their perceived significance for the future development of movements culminating in the present.

Two recent books, one on protestantism, the other on plantation, have much in common. Both are by young authors who as undergraduates at Trinity College, Dublin, identified aspects of the history of early modern Ireland that were in urgent need of investigation and who then proceeded with the necessary research in British universities; in one case under the supervision of Dr Brendan Bradshaw and in the other under the tutelage of Dr Toby Barnard. The enthusiasm and combativeness of their undergraduate years still linger on in these pages but there is even clearer evidence of the skills, interests and approaches to historical study that have been cultivated by their graduate mentors. Furthermore, each book derives its authority from the systematic examination of a mass of source material that has previously been neglected, and each author advances his conclusions in a vigorous fashion and relates them to developments in Britain and on the Continent as well as to what was happening in Ireland. The fact that authors of such ability and accomplishment have been forced to make careers for themselves outside the university world is a sad reflection upon Irish national priorities and raises serious questions about recruitment and tenure practices in universities and other third-level institutions that have a concern for the study of Irish history.

This paper is concerned with the teaching of Irish history in Great Britain, with the students, the teachers and their subject. Each merits a brief mention before any detailed discussion, in order to draw attention to the problems that exist, and to clear up any misunderstanding or ignorance about the task that is to be performed.

In the great controversy between Edmund Burke and Thomas Paine occasioned by the French Revolution, Paine made at least one telling remark in his refutation of Burke’s defence of tradition and usage: he declared that an hereditary monarch was about as sensible as an hereditary mathematician. An hereditary Irish studies student in Great Britain makes about as much sense as both. Much nonsense is talked about the inherited genes of the Irish in Britain, on the assumption that (somehow) an interest in, and ability to comprehend, Irish studies can be transmitted from one generation of Irish immigrants to another. This may be the case; but if it is, it probably takes its rise from social rather than hereditary factors; and it is no more likely to produce an intelligent, perceptive student of Ireland than of France.

The Irish parliament which met at Drogheda in 1460 is best known for its legislative declaration of its own sovereignty Although this was subsequently abrogated by Poynings’ law, the 1460 parliament effected one lasting change, to which little attention has been given: it established a separate Irish currency for the first time and in so doing created an institution which with varying visibility and value was to last until 1826 — the Irish pound.

Before 1460 an Irish coinage existed. This was, however, merely a local minting to a common bullion standard which applied in England and Ireland since the first Irish minting under King John at the very beginning of the thirteenth century. Considerable historical attention of a numismatic bent has been paid to the coinages issued under the Normans. It has been concentrated in the main on the more or less mechanical questions of where, how many and by whom coins were issued. Wider analysis has been almost entirely political or related to the problems of the exchequer — mintings in place and in quantity being indicators of Norman influence and of the cost of such administration as existed in medieval Ireland.

It has long become commonplace to observe that the act of union of 1800, which abolished the Irish parliament and established the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, has since its enactment exerted a formative influence on Irish history and remained the dominant issue in Anglo-Irish relations. In view of this, it is surprising that so little notice has been afforded the development of unionist sentiment in Britain and Ireland in the century and a half to 1800, and that the origins of and background to the union have received such cursory attention. There is, of course, an obvious historical and historiographical reason for this. Generations of Irish nationalists, and all too frequently their historians, have perceived the union as a malign termination of the constitutional arrangement known grandly but misleadingly as Grattan’s parliament and, consequently, have been little interested in investigating or understanding its origins.

The study of history at both national and local levels featured prominently among the intellectual activities of early modern Europeans. The desire to know more of their own countries (as evidenced by the growth of mapmaking) and the use of history as a political tool both played important parts in the emergence of the past as a vital force in the present. The same was true of early modern Ireland. Settlers coming to a new environment looked to the past both as a way of understanding their new home, and as a way of legitimising current political realities. Sir James Perrott noted in the introduction to his Chronicle of Ireland ‘the use of reading histories is twofold: either private for a man’s particular knowledge and information, or public for the application of it to the service of the state’ Thus Sir John Davies’s treatise on the Discovery of the true causes why Ireland was never entirely subdued was as much a justification of existing royal policy in Ireland as an explanation of Irish history Each, for his own reasons, was looking to the past to explain the present.

One dispute in Irish history which has not been given the attention it deserves is that which involved Britain, Ireland and Portugal during the years 1780-87 Authors of outline Irish histories, Lecky, Murray, George O’Brien and McDowell only mention the dispute briefly in their respective narratives, though it is clear they understood its importance to some degree at least. Maurice O’Connell, who has produced the only specialist study for the period in question, makes no reference to the dispute at all. This dispute has indeed been more substantially treated by the British historian, John Ehrman, within the general context of an analysis of the British government’s commercial negotiations from 1783 to 1793. However, the perspective he draws relates purely to Britain and Portugal, which, in itself, narrows the true significance of an episode which was important in that it completely undermined the benefits Ireland hoped to accrue from the free-trade legislation of 1779-80, and also because it raised a number of interesting questions relative to Ireland’s constitutional status vis-à-vis of Great Britain.

The early decades of the nineteenth century witnessed a substantial increase in the pace and scale of Irish emigration to Britain, a process which culminated in the massive Irish pauper influx of 1845-51 in the wake of the Irish famine. During this period the Irish-born population of England, Scotland and Wales rose from 415,000 in 1841 to 727,000 in 1851, reaching 805,000 in 1861, when it comprised 3.5 per cent of the population. Thereafter, the number of Irish-born declined to 653,000 in 1891, reviving only in the twentieth century. These figures do not, however, include the children of Irish immigrants born in Britain; thus the actual size of ethnic Irish communities was undoubtedly much higher than contemporary census returns suggest. Indeed, a survey of the Irish in Britain conducted in 1872 by the Nation, a Dublin weekly newspaper, argued that the number of Irish-born indicated in official statistics should be doubled in order to arrive at a more realistic enumeration of the ethnic Irish community in Britain.

Eunan O’Halpin’s short paper, ‘The secret service vote and Ireland, 1868- 1922’, raises important questions about accountability for the payment of money for secret service work, a term not defined in any statute in nineteenth-century Ireland. What did ‘secret service work’ include and to what extent was the money properly authorised?

The purpose of this article is to examine some of the legal implications of the use of secret service money Accounts for 1833 in the Hatherton papers show the amount of money paid, to whom and for what purposes. Edward John Littleton, first Baron Hatherton (1791 – 1863), was chief secretary for Ireland in 1833 and 1834 during the second lord lieutenancy of Marquis Wellesley This article is based largely on evidence drawn from the Hatherton papers and raises questions about the impartiality of justice in Ireland.

Whether as a unionist, or as an independent, T W Russell was never taken lightly by the parliamentary representatives of late Victorian unionism: directly, and obliquely, his contribution to the evolution of their movement was immense. As a popular unionist missionary in Britain between the first two home-rule bills, and as a protégé of Joseph Chamberlain, Russell was a valuable medium of communication between the British and Irish unionist parties. Moreover, he was both a champion of unionist farmer demands and a loyalist member of parliament; so Russell also created a vital bond between Irish unionism and rural opinion. As a member of the parliamentary Ulster party, Russell worked unstintingly for its success, provoking flexibility among both the more obtuse landed elements in the commons and among radical farmers in the counties. Yet, when he left unionism, his influence (now indirect) remained. Confronted by the spectre of presbyterian farmer militancy led by Russell, Irish unionist members of parliament meekly tailored their public pledges; and when, between 1900 and 1902, his agitation peaked, these members went further, revising the structure of their party in order to deflate his criticism and restore old loyalties. As one of the most significant forces in moulding twentieth-century unionism from nineteenth-century toryism, Russell merits special attention: his relationship with the unionist leadership in the strategically crucial years between 1894 and 1906 is examined here at length.

John White was appointed chief surgeon to the First Fleet on 24 October 1786 and sailed with that fleet, aboard the Charlotte, on 13 May 1787 for Botany Bay on the eastern seaboard of New Holland (Australia) where a penal colony was to be established. Between 18 and 20 January 1788 the entire fleet arrived at its destination and thus began the settlement of Australia by Europeans. White served as surgeon-general of the new colony, New South Wales, for almost six years until 17 December 1794 when he sailed on the Daedalus for Europe, never to return to Australia.

Michael Davitt in his book, The fall of feudalism in Ireland, published in 1904, told the story.

it is related that Mr John O’Conneli, M.P., … son of the Liberator, read aloud in Conciliation Hall, Dublin [the meeting place of the Repeal Association], a letter he had received from a catholic bishop in west Cork, in 1847, in which this sentence occurred — ‘the famine is spreading with fearful rapidity and scores of persons are dying of starvation and fever, but the tenants are bravely paying their rents’ — whereupon John O'Connell exclaimed, in proud tones, ‘I thank God I live among a people who would rather die of hunger than defraud their landlords of the rent!’

In historical treatment, as was the case in life, John O’Connor Power has been overshadowed by Charles Stewart Parnell, his political nemesis who campaigned successfully to destroy Power’s influence. However during the decade 1874–84, Power was the most enigmatic, controversial and divisive figure in Irish politics. His fellow parliamentarian T P. O’Connor called him ‘one of the few [Irish M.P.s] who stood out from the ruck of Irish placehunters’, whose ‘profound knowledge, his temper ..his profound contempt for ignorance and, as he thought, at the same time the insanity of Parnell made him a source of division’ O’Connor described him as having ‘a powerful but very ugly face, the ugliness accentuated by the marks of a severe attack in childhood of smallpox’ Tim Healy remembered him as ‘reeking of the common clay’ and remarked that ‘Parnell’s aristocratic sensitiveness recoiled’ in Power’s presence.

Nineteenth-century contested elections were by no means sedate affairs. Dickens’s ‘Eatanswill’, with its mob violence, voters being bribed, locked up, rendered insensible and thrown into canals, found echoes in real events. Bribery, violence, shouting, fighting and horse-play were ‘relatively minor’ features but certainly present in the election at Warwick in 1868 for example. The Victorian system introduced to Ireland could be an explosive mixture indeed. About a fifth of Dr Theodore Hoppen’s recent major work, Elections, politics and society in Ireland, 1832–1885, is devoted to violence including a section specifically on electoral violence. Corruption was also common, and petitions to parliament objecting to the conduct of individual elections and demanding a fresh ballot were not infrequent.

The political leadership of the independent state that emerged after 1920 was formed in the years after the fall of Parnell in 1891. The cultural atmosphere of the period in which the new leaders had grown up was suffused with a nationalist and anti-modernist romanticism, a sense that a civilisation was perhaps dying and a scepticism about the possibility or even desirability of mass democracy As has been argued elsewhere, the young men and women who were to lead the separatist movement were children of their time. Like their contemporaries elsewhere in Europe, they sensed that the twentieth century would bring great changes; they anticipated with dread or longing the great wars that so many writers predicted; they tended to rebel against their elders, often in the name of ideals inculcated by those elders; they tended toward a romantic and messianic nationalism.' They tended also to think moralistically rather than scientifically; their social thought was derived from ethics rather than from politics or economics. The culture from which they came was dominated by a catholic world-view, and their real intellectual mentors were the priests of the catholic church.

Historical comment upon the years between the death of Parnell and the outbreak of the First World War ranges widely. The historian’s vision focusses on conflict and change — nationalism, unionism, home rule, urban disruption, rural disorder, land reform and incessant social debate. This paper looks at one series of arguments partially obscured amidst the turmoil of those years. For rural-dwellers, state and private institutional intervention into the rural economy during this period radically affected power-relations and work-relations within their community. The attempts to reform the poultry industry provides one example of these changes.

Rearing poultry for sale rather than for household consumption was one of the most important occupations of the farm woman. Indeed, despite the impassioned debates and controversial decisions concerning the poultry industry from the 1890s, one thing was agreed: for better or (more commonly) for worse, the poultry industry was dominated by women.

The interest of the document printed here lies in its description and explanation of one of the paradoxes of the early seventeenth-century Irish economy. The rapid increase in the labour supply and increased commercialisation brought a dramatic growth in exports of all kinds from Ireland. The expansion was such that for the greater part of the period between 1603 and 1641 Ireland appeared to have had a surplus in the balance of trade. Yet, as the author of this document points out, despite this dramatic growth, Ireland remained a poor country, even by the standards of other contemporary underdeveloped regions such as Scotland. The resolution of that paradox is provided here by Peter French, an alderman of Galway and a member of one of the most important Galway merchant families. The document is a petition by French to the English privy council which is preserved among the papers of Sir Julius Caesar, master of the rolls and chancellor of the exchequer under James I. It was acquired by the British Library in 1842. French’s explanation of the paradox of poverty at a time of rapid trade growth is one historians have not fully considered. It depends on looking at the flow of specie and bullion in and out of early seventeenth-century Ireland, a difficult exercise given the nature of the surviving sources.

The work of K. Theodore Hoppen has forced historians of nineteenthcentury Ireland to question the role and significance of nationalism in politics, particularly local politics. Parochialism is for Hoppen the predominant political sentiment in Irish life. In the words of one reviewer, Charles Townshend, 'his general image is of an anarchic society pursuing its particular concerns in defiance of governments and revolutionaries alike’ Yet, as Townshend points out, this image cannot adequately explain the political mobilisation which followed from the Land War, apparently for national ends. Nor can it encompass the dual nature of this, and earlier, temporary mobilisations, 'movements that were simultaneously national and local, modern and traditional - in which nationalist rhetoric reinforced local claims, and the release of local energy could be tapped to sustain the nationalist claim.