In 1964, Mr Peter Laslett drew attention to a discovery of some importance to Harrington scholars. Professor Gilbert Gilchrist, according to Laslett's report, had found ‘a manuscript version of an early part of Oceana… which may have been written well before the book appeared in 1656; indeed before the Commonwealth began’. The manuscript lay in the British Museum. Since Gilchrist's original discovery – really rediscovery, for the staff of the museum had indexed the manuscript under ‘Harrington’ – two more manuscript versions of Oceana have been unearthed, one of them in the British Museum, the other in the Bodleian. All three manuscripts are very much the same, and all seem candidates for Laslett's description as manuscript versions of Oceana written well before the publication of Harrington's printed book in 1656. Unfortunately Mr Laslett's understandable optimism is almost certainly misplaced, for the manuscripts seem much more likely to have been subsequent extracts from Oceana, taken probably in the 1690s. So much for our hopes of observing Harrington's mind working at early drafts of Oceana. But something, too, is gained. The striking differences which gave Laslett his grounds for thinking Gilchrist's manuscript to be an early version of Oceana turn out, in fact, to represent a fascinating exercise in late seventeenth-century domestication of Harrington by his interpreters. The manuscripts show how Harrington, a supporter of revolution, was made a conservative.

The peace treaties concluded at Utrecht in March 1713, and the subsequent related treaties, were made memorable by the controversy which surrounded the British Ministry's part in forcing them through in defiance of the wishes of the Allies. Britain obtained considerable territorial and commercial concessions from France and Spain, together with general recognition of the Protestant succession in the House of Hanover. The Allies had less cause for satisfaction. The House of Habsburg, whose claim to the whole Spanish empire had been recognized by Britain since 1703, had to be content with the Southern Netherlands and a part of the former Spanish possessions in Italy. The United Provinces received a less favourable military barrier against France in the Nedierlands than they had been led to expect. From the point of view of the predominantly Tory Ministry, however, the most dangerous critic of the peace was the eleotor of Hanover, the future George I, who allied himself closely with the Whigs in their efforts to continue the War of the Spanish Succession until the throne of Spain was obtained for the Imperial House. The insistence of the Whigs that the Bourbon incumbent should give up the Spanish throne, compelled if necessary by Louis XIV, had caused the breakdown of negotiations in 1709–10, and, together with their injudicious impeachment of Henry Sacheverell, hastened their own dismissal by Queen Anne in June-September 1710 to make way for the more pacific Tories. The continued alliance of the House of Hanover with the Whigs after Anne's death in 1714 was to prolong the controversy concerning the peace; for one of the first actions of George I's Ministry, after their consolidation in parliament in the general election of 1715, was to impeach Oxford, Bolingbroke and others responsible for the Peace of Utrecht.

Following the Atterbury plot of 1722 the earl of Orrery, one of the prominent English Jacobites, told James III that they must bend all their efforts ‘to lull the Government asleep and make them believe there are no further thoughts of designs against them’. Their efforts were never to be realized, for to the English government ministerial idleness where Jacobites were concerned was a luxury it felt it could not afford. By 1716 the government had been made too well aware of the threat this group presented to its position. Reversal could only be avoided through close vigilance and the early detection of plot and conspiracy. Their earlier experiences of attempted plots, near assassinations, foreign aid, open rebellion, and the inability to gauge the movement's strength, created in the ministers between 1715 and 1745 an almost pathological fear of a Stuart restoration. It was never to subside but only to increase with each passing year, reaching its climax during the administration of Robert Walpole. Dissatisfaction with the existing system under the Hanoverians and the presence of an alternative choice on the continent were two facts that could not be overlooked. Jacobitism as a rallying cry for the disaffected in England, Ireland, and Scodand was an obvious reality. Each ministry, in varying degrees, pursued what appeared to it to be the hideous, all-pervasive force of Jacobitism – a force that seemed to assume infinite proportions the less visible it was to the eye. Jacobites must be hunted out, their secrets penetrated, their plans squashed. The best evidence of this pre-occupation of the government with fear of a Stuart restoration lies in an examination of its methods of securing intelligence through the post office, the employment of spies, and personal interviews with the Jacobites themselves.

From the time of Henry Grattan's pronouncement of 1791 that ‘the drinking of spirits’ had become ‘a great national evil’ to the conclusion of the Poor Law Report of 1837 that an Irishman could get ‘dead drunk for two pence', the problems of alcoholic production, consumption and controls plagued the Irish Government. In a country whose food supplies were often as precarious as its revenues, the brewing of beer and the distilling of spirits were enterprises as controversial as they were profitable. These industries, newly adapted to the large-scale production of the late eighteenth century, underwent rapid expansion during the first years of the Union despite restrictive taxation, periodic measures of prohibition and the persistent harping of temperance leaders. During this period Ireland became an exporter rather than an importer of alcoholic beverages and witnessed the development of a considerable number of licensed breweries and distilleries throughout the country.

In the 1890s the concept of laissez-faire still dominated the attitude of the Foreign Office to the question of overseas loans and investment. Unlike its European counterparts, the British Government had no tradition of interference in the world of high finance, nor were there any formal channels of communication between die City and the Foreign Office whereby a community of interests might be established or policies correlated. In the mid-nineteenth century there had been little need for closer contact. The power of British finance had ensured ample opportunities for British investment in fields where foreign competition was virtually non-existent. Such communication as had been considered necessary could be effected through hints in speeches, social contacts, or personal relationships - strictly informal procedures which, apart from Disraeli&s bid for the Suez canal shares, had produced minor and unspectacular results.

All myths are, by their very nature, long-lasting, and that of the virtuous proconsular figure-typified by those heavenly twins of the British imperialist pantheon, Cromer and Milner-is scarcely an exception to the rule. In the case of Sir Alfred Milner the image was apparently confirmed in the published edition of his private South African papers, a much-praised collection upon which all subsequent historians, friend and foe alike, have relied for their picture of the High Commissioner at work. For some time indeed this was inevitable as the papers themselves remained closed to scholars, but, owing in part to the latest biography of Milner written with all the papers available, the opening of the collection seems to have prompted little new or detailed investigation of Milner's early South African years. Moreover, despite the pints of ink and acres of print devoted to expositions of British policy in South Africa, and to the passing of judgements on those thought responsible for the war of 1899, one important aspect of Milner's activity has been altogether ignored. The following article, by presenting evidence from various sources for the High Commissioner's interest in and influence on newspapers both at home and in South Africa, attempts to fill a gap in current knowledge of the period, and raises one or two further questions concerning imperial statecraft at the turn of the century.

The Liberal daily newspaper the Tribune had only a brief life, from 15 January 1906 until 7 February 1908. Its failure was then and has since been attributed, largely by journalists, to its neglect of the ‘ realities ’ of the newspaper industry. The Tribune, it is said, was too good for its readers, and concentrated upon its leading articles to the neglect of its proper business as a newspaper, the news. It did not in other words fit the pattern which the ‘new journalism ’ of the 1890s had set. Indeed, in several important respects it was an attempt to reverse the trend, and to return to the old liberal model of journalism in which the newspaper was looked upon mainly as a vehicle for news and opinion, rather than a saleable commodity. The case of the Tribune encompassed this whole problem of the relationship between Liberalism and journalism, during a period in which both were undergoing a process of transformation and change. As such it is a case which deserves describing in more detail than has been done hitherto.

The negotiations between England and Germany over the future of the Portuguese Empire which were in progress between 1911 and 1914 have been given little attention by historians. Such as there is has usually taken the form of en passant remarks to the effect that the successful conclusion of an agreement was part of the evidence for something like an Anglo-German détente just before war broke out. Although the view that the episode does not rate full treatment is certainly correct, considerable importance was attached to the negotiations at the time, and their course does reveal some interesting features. There is useful evidence for discussing such problems as the views and influence of the permanent officials at the Foreign Office, the importance of imperial considerations in international politics at the time, and the attitudes of Sir Edward Grey and Mr ‘Lulu’ Harcourt (Secretary of State for the Colonies, 1910–15). The resolution of the divisions on the British side and the way in which the negotiations were handled has not before been put together from the available papers, and to do so gives an opportunity to reconsider what was the true significance of the episode in Anglo-German relations.

The role of rearmament within the economic framework has become a theme of recurring interest in twentieth century history. During the century, however, the scope of the problem has broadened considerably, so that historians no longer talk of rearmament as merely the direct preparation of a nation's armed forces with the means of waging war. Instead the idea of‘ total war’ introduces a new dimension, indirect or economic rearmament. This second dimension involves a much broader interpretation of the political disposition of individual countries at different times and under rapidly changing circumstances, as well as an understanding of the quality of service, industry or institution that would materially contribute to the effective waging of war on the home front as well. The danger of this sort of interpretation lies in the fact that it only appears to be necessary to locate the will to war in order to understand economic or social processes of a much more sophisticated and diverse nature.