This article suggests an alternative explanation for the failure of the so-called Spanish match in 1623. The Spanish monarchy was not unanimously against the marriage of the Infanta María to Prince Charles, and the marquis (later duke) of Buckingham was not the brilliant negotiator who was able to expose elaborate attempts by the Spanish to hide their alleged mendacity. Analysis of archival materials from England, Spain, and Germany indicates that Charles decided to abandon the match when he realized that it would not guarantee the restoration of his dispossessed brother-in-law, Elector Palatine Friedrich V, who had done everything in his power to prevent the marriage. When Charles signed the treaty anyway, the Spanish then began to make preparations for the wedding, preferring to postpone serious discussion of a solution to the Palatine crisis indefinitely. For Charles, however, the two issues were inseparable. For him the match was as important for securing the restitution of the Palatinate as for designating his future royal spouse. When he left Spain, he had already devised and initiated a plan to dissolve the match. In many ways both sides were equally guilty of delay, dissimulation, and deception.

By the winter of 1648–9, demands for retributive justice on Charles I and his supporters had built to a crescendo. But regicide was generally regarded as an extremely bad idea, and the king's trial was contrived as a final bid for peaceful settlement, not a prelude to king-killing. In return for a place at the heart of a new constitutional order, Charles I was required to abdicate his negative voice by pleading to charges brought on the sole authority of the House of Commons. This was a high-risk strategy inspired and justified by the weakening of opposition to the trial in the House of Lords, the city of London and at Edinburgh, and by some of the encouraging signals emanating from deep within the royalist camp itself. However, in their anxiety to avoid having their ultimate sanction forced upon them, the commissioners of the high court of justice gave the king rather more opportunities to plead to the charges against him than was consistent with the maintenance of their own authority. Rather than persuading him to give in, they encouraged him to stand firm, with fatal consequences. Far from being a providential act of vengeance, or indeed the inexorable fate of a man predestined to martyrdom, the execution of Charles I was a highly adventitious occurrence – predictable, perhaps, yet contingent on a wide range of unpredictable circumstances.

The Wyndham Land Act was the most important land reform introduced by any British government during the period of the Act of Union (1801–1922); and this article provides a new interpretation of the origins of this revolutionary legislation. Whereas previous accounts attribute the Act to the initiative of the Irish chief secretary, George Wyndham, this article locates the legislation in the wider context of both popular and ‘high’ politics. The state of the land question in fin de siècle Ireland is examined, as is the United Irish League's extensive agitation for compulsory land purchase between 1901 and 1903. Finally, the impact of the agitation on the British government is considered, and the article demonstrates that the Wyndham Land Act was introduced as a result of the United Irish League's campaign for land reform.

The debate over the popularity or otherwise of state social reform has been inhibited by the lack of contemporary sources. This article seeks to advance our understanding of working-class experience of the 1908 pensions scheme by utilizing the material in Post Office archives and the local press. It argues that the scheme was implemented in ways calculated to reassure the beneficiaries, that it promoted the independence of the elderly, that it reached more people than is usually thought, and that it helped to modify popular attitudes towards the state.

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.

The historiography on civil–military relations in the early years of the Weimar Republic has concentrated on issues such as the soldiers' councils, the threat of a radical left-wing uprising and the difficulties of demobilization. This article broadens the perspective on co-operation between the officer corps and the government, arguing that the collapse of the Kaiserreich provided an opportunity to remake the state. For very different reasons, liberal and socialist politicians and officers shared a community of interests in centralizing the Reich. Officers believed that a more centralized state was more effective in military and foreign policy terms. Whereas other incidents of co-operation were due to urgent necessity, the establishment of the Reichswehr Ministry showed that the new state could potentially serve the longer term agenda of the officer corps. However the plans for a centralized Reichswehr Ministry were opposed by those who held power in the federal states, particularly in southern Germany. With support from the National Assembly and the cabinet, opposition from the states was overcome. This episode in Weimar history shows that the view of antagonistic civil–military relations must be modified to take account of the ways in which the officer corps sought to exploit the possibilities opened up by the German revolution of 1918.

In 1957, against a background of political turmoil and international tension the Conservative government passed the Rent Act, a highly contentious piece of legislation designed to resolve the problem of housing shortages by removing the statutory restrictions on the rents of privately let accommodation which had been operative since the Great War. The government argued that by abolishing rent controls landlords would be encouraged to maintain, improve, and invest in private rented property and thereby increase its availability. The failure to achieve these objectives prompts an assessment of the Rent Act through an analysis of its origins. It is suggested that, although the government's rents policy was framed within a broad economic imperative, between 1955 and 1957 it became refracted through a number of political, administrative, and social constraints, ensuring that its central aim of creating a free market in rents could never be achieved. As such the Rent Act reaffirmed the strength of consensus politics as a major influence on the Conservative party's housing strategy.

Politeness has assumed an important place in recent interpretations of eighteenth-century Britain by historians and historically minded scholars in other fields. The use of politeness as an analytic category has relied on varying assessments of the eighteenth-century semantic associations of the term, which included attentiveness to form, sociability, improvement, worldliness, and gentility. Scholars have used politeness in one or more of these senses to characterize distinctive aspects of eighteenth-century British culture: the comportment of the body in isolation and in social interaction; the material equipment of everyday life; the changing configurations and uses of domestic and public spaces; skills and aptitudes that both constituted personal accomplishment and shaped larger cultural enterprises such as religion, learning, the arts, and science; and important aspects of associational and institutional life. Thus, eighteenth-century Britain was polite in that a wide range of quite different activities have been identified as bearing the stamp of the eighteenth-century meanings of ‘politeness’. Furthermore, what made eighteenth-century Britain a polite society was not its horizontal division between polite and non-polite persons but rather the wide access of a range of persons to activities and competencies that contemporaries considered ‘polite’.

The past two decades have witnessed a burgeoning of the history of the body and sexuality. Seeking to historicize sex differences, historians have widely incorporated the study of the body and sexuality into the history of women and gender. This review considers the place of the body and sexuality in women's and gender history. Recent work posits the long eighteenth century as the century of change in the ways in which bodies were understood, sexuality constructed, and sexual activity carried out. Yet in turn, the incorporation of such new topics also reinvigorates older narratives of economic and political transformation. This historiographical review assesses this recent work, arguing that key facets of the historiography need to be reconsidered. Explanatory models of historical change need to incorporate issues such as life-cycle changes and historical persistence. Approaches to cultural exchange have to develop which can accommodate cultural diversity, and the complexities of cultural transmission. Finally, analyses of the material contexts of the body and sexuality – both corporeal and textual – need to be undertaken.

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.

With his unparalleled genius for self-promotion, Benjamin Disraeli advised us to ‘read no history, nothing but biography, for that is life without theory’. Historians of the British Conservative party have followed his instructions faithfully, long seduced by the charms of the political biography. In recent years alone the world has seen the publication of two scholarly and highly flattering biographies of the third marquess of Salisbury, by Andrew Roberts and David Steele, alongside a reconstruction of the distinctive Salisburian philosophical world by Michael Bentley, and a long overdue biography of Bonar Law by R. J. Q. Adams. Of the newer vintage, we now have Anthony Seldon's biography of John Major and the first instalment of John Campbell's deconstruction of Margaret Thatcher. One can only shudder with trepidation at the unedifying prospect of the weighty and earnest tomes devoted to William Hague or Iain Duncan Smith awaiting tomorrow's historians. The fates and fortunes of the party continue to be intertwined unproblematically with the qualities of its successive leaders. On one level this is inevitable, befitting the self-image of a party which has always valued leadership and hierarchy. But on another level the predilection for biography has encouraged Conservative studies to remain stubbornly immured within a set of sterile and untheoretical paradigms. The tendency is for narration rather than explanation, for ‘party’ to be defined institutionally rather than organically, and for the world of politics to be reduced to conversations held within the hermetic corridors of Westminster. The more imaginative and innovative work on Victorian and Edwardian politics to have appeared in recent years has been carried out by historians of the Liberal and Labour parties.

The past decade has seen a virtual explosion in scholarship about issues of gender in the history of modern Europe. Historians have taken up topics from the fall of Louis XVI during the Revolution to the role of women in fascism to demonstrate the pivotal importance that matters of sexual difference have made in shaping politics, culture, and society in the last centuries. Scholars have realized that interpretations of class dynamics, work relations, collective action, and nations at war, for example, look considerably different and are far more complex when attention is paid to gender. Where the study of women in the past was once relegated to the backwaters, now courses on women's history and gender have taken a permanent place in most university curricula. Histories that include women have moved from ‘her-story’ (crudely, the history of individual women and their accomplishments) to analyses that use gender as an interpretative prism through which to view larger social and political transformations.

The three books under review participate in this larger movement toward integrating the perspectives of gender into major issues of European history that have been researched by historians before, but from a standpoint that these authors find lacking. Margaret Arnot and Cornelie Usborne, as editors of a collection of essays on gender and crime, wish to correct some of the assumptions about women and crime that have been ignored by historians who focus mostly on more historically conspicuous male criminals. Ann-Louise Shapiro uses the trials of criminal women in late nineteenth-century Paris as ‘lightning rods’ that illuminate the social, political, and cultural conflicts of the fin-de-siècle.