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.

Though both Russia and France appreciated the value of an alliance between the two countries, their predominant motives for concluding the Alliance were quite dissimilar. France seems to have been motivated mainly by fear of Germany. Her need for a strong military and political counterweight to Germany led her naturally to contemplate allying herself with Russia. Russia was primarily interested in obtaining investment capital to finance industrial development. Owing to a change of German policy in the late 1880s she was obliged to seek financial aid outside Berlin, hitherto her chief source of funds. France was apparently willing to lend Russia money in exchange for military and political support, which the Russians were not averse to providing. Hence the Alliance of 1891 was intended to be of benefit to both parties.

The reoccupation of the Rhineland, on 7 March 1936, conventionally referred to as its remilitarization, was one of the few real turning points in modern history. It marked the end of the last vestiges of the ‘Versailles System’ and it has been considered a missed opportunity for calling a halt to Hitler's aggressive designs. It was also a problem which affected the very foundations of the Franco-Polish alliance, a relationship which had a chequered history in the interwar period. For France and Poland, Germany's neighbours, most of all, the reoccupation of the Rhineland would on the surface appear to have been the last occasion on which they might have collaborated to contain Hitler's Germany. This article will attempt to show how much more complex the question was in reality. It examines the degree of mutual consultation and encouragement between France and Poland prior to the reoccupation, and their reactions to it. This episode provides an excellent case-study of how the alliance worked in practice and also throws some interesting sidelights on the European diplomatic scene in this period.

The White Paper on Palestine, issued by the British Government in May 1939, adumbrated future British policy in Palestine at a time when all members of the Cabinet, including Chamberlain, had accepted the inevitability of war. Yet, while they were concerting measures for war on a global scale, the Middle Eastern theatre was of low military priority, and appeasement remained the order of the day, with the White Paper as its principal instrument. The White Paper severely restricted Jewish immigration into Palestine for the next five years and amde further, subsequent immigration dependent upon Arab consent. Britain also promised to set up an independent Palestinian State within the next ten years, if this should prove feasible.

Historians are only just beginning to take the study of what Georges Sorel called ‘la révolution dreyfusienne’ beyond the courtroom and the newspaper, and thus, despite the volume of literature devoted to ‘the Affair’, many of its main features as a socio-historical phenomenon have remained shrouded in the clouds of metaphysical drama. A prime example of diis conspiracy of silence is provided by die antisemitic riots of 1898. The historian Jules Isaac, himself the son of a Jewish army officer like Dreyfus, had reason to remember that year when, he recollected in old age,’ …la France semblait revenue au temps des guerres de religion; la possibilité d'une nouvelle Saint-Barthélémy - contre les Juifs et Protestants, bon gré mal gre associés dans la tourmente - n'était pas exclue’. However, if one turns to general histories of die period and of ‘ die Affair’, one finds litde or no mention of what was the main popular movement of the time in diis direction, indeed die high-point of active popular involvement, in the whole Dreyfus Affair: die riots of January and February 1898. From die administrative and police reports it is possible to redress die balance, and to establish how serious and how widespread diese riots really were, and to place diem in die wider perspective, not only of French antisemitism, but also of popular emeutes in general in nineteendi-century France. First it will be necessary to analyse die riots diemselves in some detail

The Vatican in the twentieth century has played a far less considerable role on the world's stage than in previous centuries. Stripped of its temporal possessions, the Vatican no longer exercises that military and political power which Napoleon estimated to be worth an army corps of 20,000 men, but which his latter day successor, Stalin, could sardonically dismiss with the (apocryphal) question: ‘How many divisions has the Pope?’ Nevertheless, the papacy remains an influential factor in world affairs; and there is still strong appeal in die ideal of the papacy pursuing aims which, in contrast to those of other powers, are solely peace and reconciliation.

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.

There has been no full study of the Mond-Turner talks and the subsequent conferences between the Trades Union Congress, die National Confederation of Employers’ Organizations (NCEO) and die Federation of British Industries (FBI). This is largely because until recendy die relevant archives and paper collections have not been open for research. From the official government papers, the archives of the Confederation of British Industries and some TUC material, it is now possible for die first time to present a detailed study of diis series of talks, important as a major attempt at industrial co-operation at national level.

Readers in die Foreign Office archive for the 1930s will not find many documents longer dian C14471/42/18 of 1938, which fills the major part of die volume into which it has been bound. In line widi British official practice this ‘document’ actually consists of a collection of papers, in this case nine, having a common occasion and a common subject. Bearing die title ‘Possible future course of British policy’, it is at least as interesting as it is long.

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.