In Maitland's words, “Of all the centuries the twelfth was the most legal.” It was a time of growth for the great legal systems in the West: English common law, revived Roman law, and canon law. Students of medieval England have rarely concerned themselves with the question of the connection between these legal systems. For six centuries, from Bracton until the rise of modern legal history with Maitland, the study of English law was insular, ignoring the continental legal systems. When a seventeenth-century civilian wrote that “our common law, as we call it, is nothing else than a mixture of the Roman and the feudal,” he aroused the anger of Coke and the common lawyers. Recently scholars have taken such a view more seriously, and a number of studies have sought Roman or canonistic influences on English law. It might be useful, then, to reconsider the matter of the impact of Rome on English law in the light of recent scholarship, asking three questions: To what extent was Roman law known and studied in England before the time of Bracton? What influences, if any, do scholars find that it had on the legal innovations of Henry II and his sons? Why did the English fail to ‘receive’ Roman law in the way that countries on the Continent did?

Any influence of Roman law in England during the centuries after the withdrawal of Roman legions and before the Norman Conquest can be dismissed quickly. Once Christianity was re-introduced to the island, the revival of Roman Law, or at least of some notion of Roman legal concepts, was possible.

The crown's tenuous control over remote regions of the realm created a persistent problem in sixteenth-century England. Feudal ties and social unrest presented greatest danger in the North, but the early Tudor monarchs worried about the West as well. For one thing, the western counties were especially vulnerable to possible foreign invasion. Secondly, the internal power structure in the West included a loyal but independent gentry and a commons far from passive. In such circumstances, royal control in the West might have disappeared entirely without solid aristocratic support. King Henry VIII depended upon his cousin, Henry Courtenay, Marquis of Exeter, to provide such support during the first three decades of his reign. Until Courtenay's execution for treason in 1538, his lands and offices ensured his position as the leading aristocrat, the role which John, Lord Russell assumed in 1539.

Some such expression as “the scientific revolution in England” is often used in referring to the period in seventeenth-century history in which, under English auspices and the leadership of mathematical scientists of whom many were English or worked in England (foremost in whose ranks was Isaac Newton), success was finally achieved in formulating quantitative, empirically sound, and predictive laws of motion. In recent years there have appeared several theories of the social and economic causes of this revolution. These theories have had a constructive effect to the extent that they have prompted serious consideration of previously ignored aspects of the history of science. However, without denying their value in this regard, they are at best inadequate. The purpose of this essay is not to review or to dispute these earlier theories but to propose an alternative to them.

At the time of the Restoration, Charles II seemed to give every indication that his first and most important alliance as King of England would be with Spain. Contemporary circumstances were such that this policy would have been logical, and Charles's behavior in 1660 encouraged Europeans to expect it. Yet, within a year of his return, Charles had not only failed to forge the Spanish alliance, he had entered into a marriage-alliance with Spain's rebellious province, Portugal. The events surrounding this apparent change of attitude encouraged the Spanish government and others to misinterpret Charles's intentions. At best, the new King was seen as a weak monarch who was lured into a comfortable dependence on Spain's natural enemy and self-appointed protector of Portugal, Louis XIV, King of France. At worst, Charles was accused of duplicity, of falsely courting Spain while maneuvering into an anti-Spanish coalition being constructed by France. In both interpretations, Charles was believed to have been seduced by the French King very early in his reign. The Portuguese alliance raises the question of the nature of Charles's foreign policy immediately after the Restoration. What were his relationships with France and Spain? What did he intend by the Portuguese alliance? The key to understanding his behavior lies in his treatment of Spain, and from an examination of his Spanish policy in light of the controversial alliance, it is possible to see both reason and consistency in Charles II's initial diplomacy.

During the second half of the eighteenth century, the role of the East India Company was significantly altered. In the early part of the century, the main thrust of Company activity was commercial, but this began to change as the French challenged British interests in India and conditions on the sub-continent demanded political and military involvement. Lucy Sutherland has summed up these changes succinctly:

The Grenvillites were one of the more durable and long lasting of the political groups or factions which functioned within the Westminster scene during the first three decades of the nineteenth century. Yet several years before the Reform Bill of 1832 substantially reduced their borough strength in the House of Commons, the Grenvillites as a group had ceased playing even a peripherally important role in the political nation. The decline of this faction illustrates one of the problems implicit in a system which places emphasis upon a great peer or wealthy Commoner acting as paterfamilias of a political clique. It is all very well when there exists an individual of some talent or even a moderate degree of gravitas to lead the group, but what will follow when an internal shift within the faction throws up a total incompetent, who neither properly prunes nor tends his preserve, to run the corporate affairs? This article will examine how such an occurrence overtook the Grenvillites during the years after 1817.

Ladies who kept private schools attended by young ladies are familiar figures in Regency and Victorian novels: ridiculous ladies, such as Miss Pinkerton, who kept a rather elegant establishment in Vanity Fair, sensible ladies like Mrs. Goddard, whose more modest school was attended by Jane Austen's Emma; scheming ladies such as Mrs. Kirkpatrick, who set her cap for Molly Gibson's father in Mrs. Gaskell's Wives and Daughters. Memorable mostly for their personal quirks, their qualities of character, these ladies all fit comfortably in the framework of the domestic drama.