Although Dryden's literary club in Covent Garden is remembered today by the readers of Restoration literature, political clubs in Charles II's metropolis have been litde studied by the historians of his reign. Of these political clubs, it was, of course, the First Whigs' Green Ribbon Club which always made most noise in the world, both at the time of the Popish Plot and Exclusionist agitation as well as in partisan histories of that agitation. Accounts of the Club by chroniclers of the calibre of Roger North or of Sir George Sitwell exist alongside the more recent but tantalizingly, brief description from J. R. Jones. Professor Jones has exploded the myth', writes another modern historian, ‘that the Whig Green Ribbon Club was an all-powerful manipulator of mobs and riots; its importance in this field extended only to financing or helping to finance, the two great 17 November pope-burnings in 1675 and 1680, which North regarded as contrived by the club.’ But other characteristics of this club also merit attention, especially in comparison with less well-known Whig clubs in London.

It has been said of James Tyrrell that his ‘main claim to distinction was perhaps his friendship with John Locke’, but his elaborate monument in Oakley church, near Brill in Buckinghamshire, although it records a number of his qualities and achievements, does not mention this. James was the eldest son of Sir Timothy Tyrrell, Knight, of Shotover House, near Oxford; his mother's father was James Ussher, archbishop of Armagh. Sir Timothy had been a Cavalier and in royal service, but his n son was to devote himself to writing books attacking the principles for which the royalists had stood. Born in London in May 1642, James Tyrrell was entered before he was fourteen as a student at Gray's Inn, but a year later he abandoned legal study and went up as a gentleman commoner to Queen's College, Oxford.

In 1820 many of the leading figures in the governments of the Italian states were men who had already been prominent before 1796, and had collaborated with the French during the period of the Empire. Vittorio Fossombroni and Neri Corsini in Tuscany and Prospero Balbo in Piedmont are the outstanding examples in the years immediately following the Vienna settlement. The political survival of these men into a Europe dominated by violent reaction against the events of the preceding twenty years poses interesting questions. How had the pre-revolutionary Italian ruling aristocracies reacted to the experience of Napoleonic government, and how did this experience affect their attitude to the events of the succeeding decade?

American local history has been much studied, but rarely integrated into the general history of the country. Although greater attention is now being paid to the connexions between local political, social and economic developments and national trends, there is still a very real disparity in historiographical emphasis between national issues and the problems of community life experienced by Americans in the past. For no period, perhaps, is this disparity so graphic as for the mid-nineteenth century; the years from about 1840 to the 1870s or the 1880s were convulsed by sectional rivalries, civil war and reconstruction, to which matters historians have devoted their attention. Steadily, however, the local communities themselves have come under scrutiny. But the major interpretation currently accepted reinforces, rather than qualifies, the general picture we have of that period, since the North, at least, is regarded as buoyant and expansive in the mid-century, pursuing with relentless self-confidence such aims as help to explain the coming, and the winning, of the Civil War; reform, moral and educational improvement, and the opening of economic opportunities to yeomen farmers, artisans and small merchants.

The Third Reform Act has never received the attention which historians have given to its famous predecessors, though its political effects were arguably the most profound of the three. And though there was not the same pressure from extra-parliamentary agitation as in 1831–2 or 1866–7, the enactment of a major electoral reform in 1884–5 predictably overshadowed other parliamentary business. Lord Kimberley saw this clearly in 1883: ‘From the time when we propose the extension of the county franchise until (by some Government) the Redistribution of Seats is carried, there will be a political crisis and all other measures will be practically postponed.’ But in their explanations of the prolonged controversy, which lasted until the end of November 1884, historians have become absorbed in the tactical aspects of the political game and have tended to lose sight of the substantive issues at stake. Charles Seymour stated in 1915 that ‘the question of reform in 1884 was…fought out, not on principles, but upon the method of procedure’. Professor Weston has depicted the situation in terms of a Tory ‘cave’ fostered by the queen, forcing negotiation upon a reluctant Salisbury; while Dr Fair, in seeking to rebut her argument, has taken a similar standpoint to Seymour's. ‘It was not the details of reform or redistribution which were at stake. It was a spirit of mutual distrust.’

On 23 December 1910, Jean Victor Augagneur, deputy for the Rhône, directed this attack in the French Chamber on the influence and the methods of the parti colonial. Augagneur was not an opponent of French imperialist expansion, who would have been inclined to exaggerate the importance of the parti colonial for political or ideological purposes. On the contrary, he was a professional colonial administrator who had recently been governor general of Madagascar (1905–10). As such, he was deeply sympathetic to a policy of imperialist expansion and critical only of the process by which this policy was formulated and executed. His contention that a powerful pressure group existed which was capable of influencing decisively the making of French foreign policy has to a large extent been confirmed by subsequent historical research.

The 1939 White Paper remained the basis of British rule in Palestine during the first three years of war. The military crises that erupted in the Middle East between 1940 and 1942 did not permit consideration of any alternatives - if only because Britain could not be certain that in would still be in the area at the end of the war. Since his appointment to the War Cabinet in September 1939, Churchill had tried, in vain, to halt the implementation of the White Paper.