Leyrwite was a fine for fornication levied on the bondwomen of many medieval English manors. This essay traces the distinctive chronological history of leyrwite (it flourished especiallyc. 1250–1350), its regional distribution (leyrwite was levied only in England and only in some regions of England), its socio-economic implications (leyrwite was directed especially at the poor and more at bastardy than fornication) and, most of all, the significance of its focus on women (leyrwite served as one means of regulating poor women and their families).

For students of the interaction between oral and written forms of communication the early modern period provides an important case study. England in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries was far from being an oral society; and yet it was not a completely literate one either. On the one hand, old vernacular traditions had long been infused and supplemented, or corrupted and destroyed, by the written word; on die other hand, only a certain part of the population could read and write or ever relied on the products of literacy. Indeed, as Keidi Thomas has suggested, ‘it is the interaction between contrasting forms of culture, literate and illiterate, oral and written, which gives this period its particular fascination’.

Preoccupation with the policies of governments as a major theme in the history of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries is now unfashionable with economic historians. However, masters of Oxford colleges and professors of social history can afford to be out of fashion. According to Mr Hill, ‘The Middle Ages in industry and internal trade also ended in 1641, when the central government lost its power to grant monopolies and to control the administration of poor relief. Attempts to prohibit the activities of middlemen, whether in industry or agriculture now ended…Guild regulations and the privileges of town oligarchies, long opposed by the common lawyers, became far more difficult to enforce…in the long run England's economic liberty, unique at that time in Europe, had a stimulating effect, especially noticeable after 1688 confirmed the political gains of the earlier revolution.’ Or as Professor Perkin claims '… the landed rulers of England… from the Restoration adopted the dynamic policy of laissez-faire in internal industry which Adam Smith… was to advocate in foreign trade.’ ‘Laissez-faire… was the direct consequence of the breakdown at the Civil War of the “Privy Council” system of central control.

IT has been, and still is, the considered opinion of many scholars that the freemen and sokemen who figure so prominently in the Domesday Survey of the northern and eastern counties of England were the descendants of the rank-and-file of the Danish armies of the ninth century. The theory is not based on any precise knowledge of Scandinavian peasant-society in the ninth century, but on the geographical distribution of the free peasantry in England. It was first propounded by E. W. Robertson in 1862:

In the Danelage, … omitting Yorkshirefrom the calculation, between a third and a fourth of the entire population were classified either as liberi homines or as socmen. … Free Socage, the very tenure of which is sometimes supposed to have been peculiarly a relic of Anglo-Saxon liberty, appears to have been absolutely unknown except among the Danes.

In this polemical paper, I argue that, although conservation has generally presented itself as ananti-modern phenomenon, it is actually very modern indeed; the rise of the conservation movement has been a key element in the modern transformation of the built environment. The paper assesses how this situation has come about, drawing on the turn-of-century ideas of Alois Riegl, and argues that this modern concept of the monument has had a positive, creative side and a negative, even destructive side. In a concluding section, I explore the problems that conservation faces today as a result of that ‘committed’ stance.

Mental health care in Britain was revolutionised in the late twentieth century, as a public asylum system dating back to the 1850s was replaced by a community-based psychiatric service. This paper examines this transformation through the lens of an individual asylum closure. In the late 1980s, I spent several months in Friern mental hospital in north-east London. Friern was the former Colney Hatch Asylum, one of the largest and most notorious of the great Victorian ‘museums of the mad’. It closed in 1993. The paper gives a detailed account of the hospital's closure, in tandem with my personal memories of life in Friern during its twilight days. Friern's demise occurred in an ideological climate increasingly hostile to welfare dependency. The transfer of mental health care from institution to community was accompanied by a new ‘recovery model’ for the mentally ill which emphasised economic independence and personal autonomy. Drawing on the Friern experience, the paper concludes by raising questions about the validity of this model and its implications for mental healthcare provision in twenty-first century Britain.

The history of honour in early modern English society has tended of necessity to focus on dishonour. The ways in which women and men were defamed, shamed and dishonoured have seemed to offer a vivid insight into how what we call ‘honour’ worked in early modern society. And yet honour and dishonour were not exactly correspondent points on the same axis of values: what was dishonouring was not necessarily the opposite of what constituted honour. This was especially true where sex was concerned; sexual conduct could be dishonouring in all sorts of ways, but rarely if ever did it confer honour. Sexual dishonour was a concept and a process with a disrupting power of its own, applied most powerfully to women.

‘History is more backward in Ireland than in any other country’, wrote J. R. Green's Anglo-Irish widow fiercely in 1912. Here alone there is a public opinion which resents its being freely written, and there is an opinion, public or official, I scarcely know which to call it, which prevents its being freely taught. And between the two, history has a hard fight for life. Take the question of writing. History may conceivably be treated as a science. Or it may be interpreted as a majestic natural drama or poem. Either way has much to be said for it. Both ways have been nobly attempted in other countries. But neither of these courses has been thought of in Ireland. Here history has a peculiar doom. It is enslaved in the chains of the Moral Tale—the good man (English) who prospered, and the bad man (Irish) who came to a shocking end.

British Empire in India saw major transformations in the identities of its Indian subjects. The growth of the modern state, the introduction of new systems of knowledge, the expansion of capitalist modes of production, and the spread of communications of all forms—railway, telegraph, post, press—made possible the fashioning of all kinds of new identities at local, regional and supra-regional levels. One of the identities which developed most strikingly was the Muslim. Indeed, at independence in 1947 it gained the particular accolade of embracing its own modern state in the shape of Pakistan. This political outcome, however, was just part of an extraordinary series of developments in Muslim identities under British rule which shed light not just on the nature of British rule but also on major changes at work in Muslim society.

Taking a micro-historical approach, this paper explores the business activities of Elizabeth Carter and Elizabeth Hatchett, two married women who operated together as pawnbrokers in London in the early decades of the eighteenth century. Based on a protracted inheritance dispute through which their extensive dealings come to light, the discussion assesses married women's lending and investment strategies in a burgeoning metropolitan economy; the networks through which women lenders operated; and the extent to which wives could sidestep the legal conventions of ‘coverture’ which restricted their ownership of moveable property. It is argued that the moneylending and asset management activities of women like Carter and Hatchett were an important part of married women's work that did not simply consolidate neighbourhood ties but that placed them at the heart of the early modern economy.

Both Burke and Coxe have said that Jenkins never lost his ear from the stroke of a Spanish ‘cutlash’; a modern historian has shown it to be likely that he did. What, however, is more important than the establishment of this truth is the decision as to the exact amount of influence it had upon producing the war which followed. Jenkins' ear may be said to typify the feelings of the English public in their broad sense, their hatred for the Spaniards as cruel Papists, their insular detestation of the foreigner, and the like. The question is how far did these feelings influence the declaration of war; what were the main motives of the diplomats on either side? Did the English statesmen first truckle to Spain and then to England? The great interest of such an inquiry lies in the fact that the year 1739 was a turning point of history. It was, perhaps, the first of English wars in which the trade interest absolutely predominated, in which the war was waged solely for balance of trade rather than for balance of power. But it is not alone memorable on this account; from this war issued, in a clear and undeviating succession, the series of wars which were waged between England and France during the eighteenth century — wars in which Spain was sometimes a passive spectator, oftener an active enemy, never the friend of England. Spain's alliance with France produced grave complications for England in 1743, contributed to the fall of the greatest of English ministers in 1761, and to the loss of the greatest of English colonies in 1783.

No historian of the Kingdom of Jerusalem is likely to ignore the hostile environment in which the western settlers found themselves and the effects of military needs on their politics, government and society. The Latins’ war establishment has long been the subject of study, with historians naturally concentrating upon the actual manifestations of conflict: invasions and defence, feudal institutions and the use of mercenaries, castle-building and tactics in the field. Other less tangible factors, quite as important in contributing to the stresses to which society in Palestine was subjected, are rarely considered. The Latins believed themselves to be engaged in a sacred task in maintaining Christian presence on the holiest soil in Christendom; others believed this too, and military reverses in the East aroused in the West bitter criticism of them. They found themselves, moreover, in a situation in which, for reasons outside their control, permanant peace with their Muslim neighbours was impossible. It is this ideological background to the history of the defence of the kingdom that is discussed in this paper.

In colonial Australia, the meanings of politeness were continually contested. The urban centres held a world of strangers of dubious origin. Social edifices erected to deal with the question of who was `in Society' became ever more elaborate and unstable. To the elite, English manners represented a last bastion of civilisation in a wilderness of social disintegration. To self-made Australians, seeking acceptance rather than exclusion, they were absurd remnants of a class-ridden `Old World'. Important issues of class, gender, social organisation and identity clustered around the problem of comportment and shaped a redefinition of politeness in a colonial world.

It is just fifty years since Thomas Frederick Tout died on 23 October 1929. Apart from a few formative years at St. David's College, Lampeter, Tout spent the whole of his academic career in Manchester. It was there that in 1908 he read and reviewed Eugène Déprez's Etudes de diplomatique anglaise and soon afterwards conceived the monumental work of a lifetime, modestly entitled Chapters in the administrative history of Mediaeval England. This six-volume work describes the organization of the household of England's medieval kings between the Norman conquest and the revolution of 1399, and the way in which the great administrative departments of state sprang from it. Beginning as a study of the king's personal chamber and wardrobe, it blossomed into a study, first, of the principal and less personal offices of the chancery, the exchequer and the privy seal—their growing complexity and bureaucratization, their increasing professionalism and specialization, and their eventual permanent settlement in or near London—and, second, of the way in which these offices affected, and were affected by, the relationship between individual kings and their subjects. The focus of Tout's work was the court and the central government, institutions and administration.

This paper stems from an initial interest in the relationships between science and technology in the eighteenth century. Hence its concern lies principally with the nature of technical innovation and the sources of technical change during the Industrial Revolution. Exploring the ways in which new technology is diffused can shed light on the nature of technical change itself, which is a complex amalgam of influences governing invention, innovation (the bringing of inventions into productive use) and the diffusion of new techniques. Taking as a topic the diffusion of technology, particularly in machine-making and engineering, between Britain and Europe in the late eighteenth century is thus not meant to be a peg on which to hang wide-ranging animadversions on the differing economic fortunes and pace of advance of Britain and Europe, or a discussion of why industrialization came first and fastest to Britain and lagged elsewhere: it is a much narrower enquiry into seeing what light the processes and difficulties of diffusing new technology cast upon technical change itself at this time.

Over forty years ago with great elegance and scholarship Professor Notestein gave his famous Raleigh lecture on ‘The Winning of the Initiative by the House of Commons’: in this he developed the thesis that amongst the reasons for the great yet inconspicuous change ‘between the time of Elizabeth and that of the Long Parliament in the relation of the Council to the Commons’ was that

Almost without observation, Privy Councillors ceased to guide the Commons. And, quite as much unobserved, with no document or charter to serve as a milestone, there came into power in the Commons a group of leaders, who had no official connexion with the Government, who had no common tie, except those of the opinions and feelings that bound English country gentlemen together. These men without purpose or intent but to do the next thing that came to hand, created a new leadership. With the establishment of that leadership the Commons gained the real initiative in legislation.

There is surprisingly little early medieval social history being written. In recent years, more specifically economic history has had a remarkable rebirth, thanks to the (largely unconnected) efforts of archaeologists on the one side and Belgian and German historians on the other; but the study of society in general, outside the restricted spheres of the aristocracy and the church, has been neglected. I speak schematically; obviously, there are notable exceptions. But it is significant that noone, in any country, has thought it worthwhile to attempt a synthesis of early medieval European socio-economic history as a whole that could replace those of Alfons Dopsch or, maybe, André Déléage. It would be hard; but people have tried it for the centuries after 900, with interesting (even if inevitably controversial) results. Why not earlier? Richard Sullivan recently lamented the conservatism of most Carolingian scholarship; in the arena of social history, he could easily have extended his complaints back to 500.

During the long crisis of the Spanish empire between 1810 and 1825, the Creole leaders of Spanish American independence asserted a new identity for the citizens of the states which they sought to establish, calling them ‘Americanos’. This general title was paralleled and often supplanted by other political neologisms, as movements for independence and new polities took shape in the various territories of Spanish America. In New Spain, the insurgents who fought against royalist government during the decade after 1810 tried to rally fellow ‘Mexicans’ to a common cause; at independence in 1821, die Creole political leadership created a ‘Mexican empire’, the title of which, with its reference to the Aztec empire which had preceded Spain's conquest, was designed to evoke a ‘national’ history shared by all members of Mexican society. In South America, die leaders of the new republics also sought to promote patriotic feelings for territories which had been converted from administrative units of Spanish government into independent states. Thus, San Martín and O'Higgins convoked ‘Chileans’ to the cause of independence in the old Captaincy-General of Chile; shortly afterwards and with notably less success, San Martín called upon ‘Peruvians’ to throw off Spanish rule. Bolívar was, likewise, to call ‘Colombians’ to his banner in die erstwhile Viceroyalty of New Granada, before advancing south to liberate Peru in the name of ‘Peruvians’, and Upper Peru in the name of ‘Bolivians’, where the Republic which his military feats and political vision made possible was named after him.

In The processes by which a political cause is defeated, there are significant, sometimes unexpected achievements. This proposition is as true of protectionism before and after the repeal of the corn laws as it is for example of Jacobitism or Gladstonian Home Rule. But while the supporters and fellow-travellers of free trade have had abundant attention, the protectionists have suffered from historical neglect redeemed in recent years only by the distinguished contributions of Robert Stewart and Travis Crosby. A certain absence both of historical sympathy and of interest in the arguments of the enemies of free trade has produced a widely-held view of the protectionists as mere revanchistes and political untouchables, ‘wild men of the right’ who had to be ‘dragged kicking and screaming from their last ditches’ while others made proper preparations for ‘a generation of bourgeois prosperity’. Norman Gash, the doyen of ‘the age of Peel’, while keenly aware of the mixed motives—intellectual, political and economic—which influenced men's conduct in 1845–6 and beyond, writes of the protectionists as ‘the dead weight’ of the conservative party: their cause was too monolithic, too representative of ‘a latent hostility to the other great interests of the country’, to form the basis of a national party; and their leader Lord George Bentinck was principally and destructively inspired by revenge.

The theme which I have been asked to consider refers to the whole of Europe, but the terms on which it has been defined made it clear that the focus of interest was still to lie in Britain. I shall bear that focus in mind.

After a brief review of the debate relating to entrepreneurship and culture in Britain in the late Victorian and Edwardian period, the period with which I shall be more specifically concerned, and a similarly cursory examination of the role of entrepreneurship in economic theory and in the writings of economic historians in recent decades, I shall turn to the main theme, entrepreneurship and its cultural setting in the decades before World War I in the rest of Europe. A return to the British problem will complete the paper.