This short article describes some of the archival materials held at Shulbrede Priory, located in West Sussex, England. This private home in Haslemere also serves as an archive containing materials related to the Ponsonby family and presents exciting research opportunities for historians of early twentieth-century Britain. The collection includes material related to the composer Hubert Parry and the diaries of Arthur and Dorothea Ponsonby. Additionally, it contains manuscript and photographic materials related to the Ponsonby's daughter, Elizabeth—particularly her involvement with the so-called Bright Young People of the 1920s and 1930s. As it remains a private home, this archive also compels us to think about the nature of family histories.

In his brief ministerial career, John Stuart, third Earl of Bute, undertook a project to remake how the king's ministers would perform. Eschewing the personal power accorded to ministers like William Pitt and the Duke of Newcastle under George II, Bute and the young King George III attempted to reform the cabinet into a place of debate, unity, and resolution where administration was shared by all ministers equally. In this they were following the moral and aesthetic sensibilities of the age into a new form of political arrangements, adapting the 1688 settlement into a structure capable of administering territorial empire so long as one did not look too closely at issues of sovereignty or representation. The seemingly small and inconsistently applied shift nonetheless had enormous consequences as it shaped the hemisphere-defining policies of Bute's ministry: the Treaty of Paris of 1763 and the Royal Proclamation of 1763 that followed close on its heels. While historical accounts of Britain's 1763–83 imperial crisis tend to focus on the revenue schemes of 1764–65 as the primary origin point for conflict, Bute's “cabinet revolution” played a larger role than has generally been acknowledged in setting the stage for grander visions of imperial power and the larger protests over that power.

Chronic coin shortages plagued Ireland and Britain's American colonies throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Despite complaints, every proposal to mint money in early modern Britain's overseas Atlantic empire failed, whether in Ireland, the Caribbean, or North America. This article explains why. Although the rulers in the court and Parliament were sometimes enthusiastic about colonial mints, the Officers of the Royal Mint exercised enduring influence and managed to obstruct each of these projects. The evolution of the Mint officers’ advice into a maxim of monetary uniformity allowed the doctrine of “one certain standard” to survive the ensuing decades of upheaval as it shed its visible politics. While their advice grew out of the particular politics of the early Restoration, it gained special power and durability when it took on the character of technocratic expertise. Still, an investigation of the same actors’ treatment of a parallel issue—the rates of the foreign coins that circulated in colonies—reveals that an authoritarian style had an enduring hold on imperial monetary policy. This article offers an explanation for the British Empire's peculiar monetary geography, and also demonstrates the way that seemingly apolitical technical knowledge can disguise a potent politics.

This article looks again at the history of British migration policy in the 1940s and 1950s by centering international and imperial politics, and by drawing on archives related to shipping. These sources suggest that the British government sought to reactivate a system of race-segregated mobility across the Empire-Commonwealth after the Second World War. This involved subsidizing fares for emigrants bound for Australia, transporting migrants from Europe to the UK, and withdrawing shipping from routes that connected the Caribbean to the UK. Very soon, however, these policies came under strain. There were not enough deep-sea ships to meet demand for berths to Australia or to bring over recruited European migrants. Then the Australian government found new ways to ship migrants from continental Europe by signing a deal with the International Refugee Organization, challenging UK policy to keep Australian immigration British. Meanwhile, new routes were opened up from the Caribbean and South Asia to the UK. These trends raised a host of dilemmas for policymakers and all related to transport infrastructure. Thinking about transport can deepen our understanding of migration history, and the article's conclusion suggests some of the ways that taking such an approach can contribute to existing explanations for the government's fateful decision to amend the UK's nationality and citizenship legislation during the 1960s.