This chapter demonstrates the importance of recognising the connection between two well known issues – anti-popery/anti-puritanism and orientalism – both of which are understood as tools of ‘othering’ that helped to shape national identity. It demonstrates how responses to the religions of Islamic empires involved claims about popery and puritanism, and how this led to the construction of a discourse of oriental priestcraft and tyranny. It thus argues that later orientalism originated not in Enlightenment philosophy but in late Renaissance and post-Reformation historical culture. As such, it informs our understanding of the relationship between the Reformation and the Enlightenment, as well as between domestic and imperial history.

This chapter explores the development of differing strands of presbyterian ecclesiology at the Westminster assembly of divines in the mid-1640s. It explores the varying concerns of the clergy who would advance presbyterian positions at the Westminster assembly to demonstrate how the assembly’s presbyterianism emerged as a coherent programme for the further reformation of the British churches. While some theologians would seek to stress the rights of individual congregations, others wished to preserve the integrity of the Church Catholic and others still wished to build a broad alliance of Reformed ministers. Together these voices managed to marshal their differences in a single platform. The chapter then explores the thought of George Gillespie, one of the leading presbyterian theorists at the assembly, in light of these differing presbyterian ecclesiologies.

This chapter is a major new addition to this edition of the book and examines those jurisdictions that devised laws in the 2010s. This includes: The United Kingdom, Ireland, Austria, Netherlands, Slovenia, Mexico and Chile. Some of the countries that have adopted rules are significant for various reasons. The UK and Ireland initially explored introducing lobbying regulations in the mid-1990s. These were resisted by varying political actors and interest groups but two decades later both countries finally adopted lobbying laws. The Netherlands, ostensibly one of the ‘cleanest’ countries in the world, was the first northern European state to introduce lobbying regulations in 2012. In the global south, Mexico and Chile pioneered regulations in Latin America.

In the early years of greyhound racing there was always the charge that it was a dissipate and morally dubious activity vulnerable to being manipulated by criminal elements because of the opportunities for malpractice that it offered. The ‘human tote’ operated during the ‘Tote crisis’ of 1932–34 seemed to confirm the potential for illegal totes and fraud. However, the facts do not support the general view of the seedy and criminal nature of the greyhound tracks. Several national surveys of the views of the chief constables of England, Wales, Scotland and the Metropolitan Police, which became increasingly sophisticated, reveal that there were malpractices but that it was on a minor scale. Indeed, the Metropolitan Police withdrew from policing the greyhound tracks in the mid-1930s and most NGRS tracks developed their own security under the control of former CID officers. Beyond the Sabinis, who operated at Brighton and Hove stadium, and Alf White, there is little evidence that gangs ran the tracks as had occurred in horse racing in the ‘turf gang wars’ of the early 1920s. In essence, greyhound racing operated a form of consensual policing.

This chapter shows how the book’s findings and conclusions move beyond the novelty of the Wiltshire case study and have implications for various bodies of research addressing Britain and beyond. These consist of research on migration and integration at the rural level, that which examines the relationship between national- and local-level migration policies across the post-1960s period, and studies that support the shift in focus from the traditional national model to the local aspect of migrant integration. Furthermore, this chapter champions the importance of studying Muslim migrant communities at a grassroots level, as well as adopting a more interdisciplinary and cross-sector approach to migration history. Overall, it argues that there is a need to move beyond the image of the rural idyll, and that the study of Muslim settlement and integration in more peripheral and non-metropolitan areas builds upon and develops various different bodies of scholarship.

This chapter revisits the famous Treaty of Utrecht, and does so in order to challenge the existing historiography on contemporary political debates about empire. It emphasises the importance of reintroducing political discussions into the history of the British empire, not in the sense of returning to older ideas about an ‘official mind’ but rather in the sense of recognising the existence of real debate about the nature and merits of empire. The chapter argues that debates about the treaty reflected party divisions and contrasting political economies, and a struggle over the future of the empire. Setting out these rival versions provides an opportunity to reflect more broadly on recent trends within scholarship on empire, in the wake of the ‘cultural turn’.

The Gazette de Lausanne reported in May 1856 that ’Mme Pereire has deigned to visit the curiosities with her sons’, going on to note that Herminie was staying at the Hôtel de Fribourg where everything about her was reported to an avid public: when she had breakfast, where she had lunch and dinner, the places she visited. It was as if she was the Empress Eugénie visiting the provinces, the report concluded. In their representation of the family name, women of the Pereire family expected to be treated, and were treated, as celebrities. Presenting themselves accordingly was a continuing and necessary task. Herminie and Fanny Pereire were also individual consumers, and their conspicuous consumption added to the mystique of these women and to their families. In summary, women of the grande bourgeoisie were expected to present themselves fashionably and were given credit for doing so.

This chapter explores the issues that arose from the ‘transfer’ of Bombay from Portuguese to English control in 1661. It argues that this was a more complex issue than historians have recognised, and that the nature and extent of English sovereignty remained a matter of dispute and a work in progress. Ongoing struggles hinged not only on officials in London and India but also on the regional and geopolitics of imperial expansion, as well as on the critical intersection between maritime and territorial sovereignty. As such, the story offers lessons about the complications at the heart of European claims to colonial sovereignty. Sovereignty, in that sense, was a process rather than a product.

This chapter addresses the question of what the agency of non-animate objects might imply for the study. It begins by discussing early archaeological applications of the ideas of Giddens and Bourdieu. It then moves on to discuss anthropological ideas about the agency of non-humans, in particular Ingold’s dwelling perspective and the idea of the taskscape. It suggests that the agency of inanimate objects has been conceptualised in two different ways. Gell’s ‘secondary agency’ is compared with Latour’s ‘actor-network theory’. These approaches are situated more broadly within developing Post-humanist interpretations of object agency. Understandings of time and temporality are also discussed within the same framework. The chapter follows Gell in using the distinction between A and B-series time to construct an account of time experience based on the material world. B-series time is held to be a map of temporally ordered events. Material narratives of time and object biographies are shown to be central to this process; of particular importance is the way that changes to objects and places index the passage of time.

This introduction presents an overview of the key concepts discussed in the subsequent chapters of this book. The book takes the reader on a rewarding journey from Thomas Kyd's Proserpine to William Shakespeare's Prospero. It focuses on the relationship between The Spanish Tragedy and Hamlet - two plays which testify simultaneously to the paradigmatic consolidation and the dissolution of the genre. The book explores the way in which 'the text' of The Spanish Tragedy has been (re)constructed by editors over the course of the four centuries since its first staging, with particular emphasis on twentieth-century editions and the Routledge Anthology. It engages with issues of identity and new ideas regarding the play's complex relations with its political and cultural context of emergence and early circulation. The book also explores some of the challenges adaptors face when turning it into a screenplay.

This chapter arises from the work Hilary Hinds and the author undertook in preparing the text of The Spanish Tragedy for their jointly edited book, The Routledge Anthology of Renaissance Drama. It argues that The Routledge Anthology of Renaissance Drama was a publishing venture based on economic hardship. The Spanish Tragedy requires the reader to disengage from the familiar narrative codes of the modern world at a number of different levels. Back in the early twentieth century, it would seem that the preference presaged the resurgence of interest in the work of Thomas Kyd, exemplified by the very successful conference held at the University of Warwick, the emergence of the present volume and new individual editions of The Spanish Tragedy. Some of the respondents drew attention to a clear paradox concerned with the relationship of Kyd to William Shakespeare's work in general and Hamlet in particular.