The later nineteenth century saw expanded editions of Pepys’s diary by Lord Braybrooke (1848-49), Mynors Bright (1875–79), and Henry Wheatley (1893–99). This chapter surveys the publication of these editions and the responses to them as Pepys’s fame grew. Each new edition was accompanied by swirling rumours about what was left out. The diary inspired parodies, paintings, historical fiction, and articles in children’s magazines. A dominant theme in these creative responses was imagining what the censored texts had omitted, especially about the women in Pepys’s life. By the late nineteenth century, Pepys featured in formal education as a representative of the Restoration, but his name was also shorthand for unorthodox and fun history. The popularity of the comical version of Pepys sparked discussions about the purpose of history, notably via stress on Pepys’s role in naval and imperial history.

An overview of the physical state of Rome in the year 900, followed by an introduction to each of the major categories of material culture to be discussed: architecture, painting, icons, sculpture, inscriptions, manuscripts, ceramics, and coins. A rationale is provided for the format of the book: not a diachronic chronological survey as such, but instead organized around four overarching themes.

Making Do unpicks the devastating impact of World War II by focusing on fabric. As the war ended, a ‘textile famine’ loomed. Carruthers argues that material stuff – garments and footwear, as well as blankets and bedding – was critical to how Britons refashioned relationships within Britain and with allies and former enemies. Clothing lay at the heart of an interlocking series of postwar entitlement struggles. Clothes rationing, introduced in 1941, lasted until 1949. With clothing and shoes chronically scarce, policymakers, military commanders and humanitarians had to adjudicate whose needs to prioritize as uniforms were discarded in Britain and abroad. Service personnel, prisoners of war, former inhabitants of Axis camps all required ‘civilianized’ clothing as they reconstructed postwar lives. Making Do foregrounds mobility as central to the history of postwar adjustment, as millions of people and garments changed places and shapes. Military surplus found myriad new uses with people continuing to ‘make do and mend’. Carruthers offers an intimate portrait of everyday life in postwar Britain – and in transient spaces inhabited by veterans, relief workers, displaced persons and ‘GI brides’ – as they attempted to reconstruct new relationships in an age of persistent austerity shadowed by catastrophe.

This chapter explores the redefinition of “youth,” their relationship with the federal government, and their role in national security in the 1930s. Due mainly to the widespread unemployment among young people in their late teens to mid-twenties, adults classified them as a distinct age group with economic, educational, and cultural problems. Many adults believed that the federal government should intervene in the “youth problem,” which prompted the establishment of New Deal programs for young people, such as the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) and the National Youth Administration. The chapter also demonstrates, through an examination of debates over the introduction of military training to the CCC, as well as the transition of these agencies’ goals from unemployment relief to national defense in the late 1930s, how the Great Depression, often compared to war, was a significant turning point in the evolution of the relationship between youth, education, and national security.

Garments were entangled with victory in numerous ways, from its celebration to a deflating sense of its elusiveness. The equation of peace with prosperity proved unwarranted. British shops did not quickly refill. Civilian clothing became scarcer just after the war than at any time during it. The number of clothing coupons issued in each rationing cycle fell, frustrating hopes that the material ‘fruits of victory’ would soon be enjoyed. This chapter examines Britons’ symbolic and performative uses of clothing to celebrate victory, as well as Allied military commanders’ sartorial enactment of Axis leaders’ defeat. Surrender ceremonies and victory parades were occasions when garments were required to do particular work, whether ‘dressing up’ or ‘dressing down’. Meanwhile, in the United States, a United National Clothing Collection (launched in April 1945) sought to amass ‘victory clothing’ for distribution by UNRRA. The chapter concludes by considering transnational and imperial recalibrations of power as evidenced in Britain’s official Victory Parade in June 1946, which exposed Britons’ attitudes towards colonial subjects and the ‘colour’ they lent to national pageantry.

Ostensibly, all British former servicemen received a new wardrobe. In reality, this was reserved for British- and Irish-born veterans and denied to those from Britain’s colonies. This chapter foregrounds a ‘mutiny’ by West Indian RAF personnel in May 1946. British officials, alarmed by a ‘colour problem’ they ascribed to Black men’s excessive sensitivity to racist slurs, worked to repatriate veterans of colour, regardless of their wishes and British status. Repatriated West Indian veterans received just a promissory note. This cash entitlement varied from island to island. Enraged by racialized injustices, West Indian airmen demanded redress, staging a protest as the SS Bergensfjord transported them from Glasgow to Trinidad and Jamaica. This chapter places their demonstration within two larger frames: a wave of transnational veteran militancy in late 1945 and 1946, in which grievances over clothing were interwoven with larger imperial injustices; and a proliferation of ‘double crossings’ after the war, trans-oceanic passages in both directions, as people were removed or elected to move. Many West Indian veterans soon returned to Britain on the Windrush and other vessels.

Pepys’s diary was first published in 1825, in a highly selective version edited by Lord Braybrooke. This was a starkly different journal from the versions read today, cutting most of Pepys’s personal life, his details of everyday London and (with the exception of some court scandal) all the sex. This chapter investigates how the diary came to be published, including the shrewd tactics of the diary’s shorthand transcriber John Smith and its publisher Henry Colburn. On release, the diary drew influential admirers such as the novelist Walter Scott and the historian Thomas Macaulay. Early responses focused on the diary’s value as entertainment, on censorship, and on the questions that it raised about historical value. The chapter considers how the diary changed – or did not change – ideas of the Restoration period, the diary’s influence on the writing of social history, and the extent to which its publication followed Pepys’s plans for his library.

This chapter explores how the U.S. ideas about youth, education, and national security were projected onto U.S. policies for Japanese youth during the postwar occupation of Japan. The Americans who arrived in Japan after the end of the hostilities drew on both the U.S. and Japanese conceptions of youth to advance their national security objectives. That is, they rhetorically addressed young Japanese as a unitary group of people craving to be rescued from a militaristic dictatorship while stratifying them through policy. The chapter also demonstrates how the period in which “total war” defined youth’s relationship with national security was coming to an end, with the outbreak of the Cold War.