Entries are invited for this year’s Pollard Prize (sponsored by Wiley-Blackwell Publishing Ltd.) awarded for the best paper presented at an IHR seminar 2014-15 by a postgraduate student or by a researcher within one year of completing the PhD.
Fast track publication in the prestigious IHR journal, Historical Research, and £200 of Blackwell books.
Runner up prizes
Publication in Historical Research, and a selection of Blackwell books.
Applicants are required to have delivered a paper during the academic year in which the award is made. Submissions should be supported by a reference from a convenor of the appropriate seminar. Papers should be fully footnoted, although it is not necessary at this stage to follow Historical Research house style. All papers submitted must be eligible for publication.
The closing date for submissions is 30 May 2015
Enquiries and submissions should be directed to the Executive Editor, Historical Research (Jane.Winters@sas.ac.uk).
This article examines how Roger II, who in 1130 became the first king of Sicily, articulated the culture of a new monarchy to his subjects. It does so through extensive analysis and contextualization of a crucial, yet undervalued, royal charter issued to the city of Bari in 1132 (and here translated into English for the first time). Previous scholarship has overlooked key evidence within the charter and tended to emphasize conflict in royal-urban relations. Instead, it will be argued here that the monarchy promoted and upheld negotiation and reciprocity as an integral facet of this new kingdom.
This article briefly outlines the history of the colonial diamond industry of Sierra Leone from 1930 to 1961, highlighting its contingent aspects and the bonds guiding the decisions and actions taken by local social actors in different contexts and at different times. By drawing on colonial documents and memoirs of colonial officers, it shows how the colonial government of Sierra Leone and the mining company that exercised a monopoly on diamond extraction collaborated on the establishment of a series of legislative and disciplinary devices that encompassed forms of biopolitical expertise.
This post has kindly been written for us by Dr Sian Barber, author of Using Film as a Source (MUP, 2015), the first in the IHR Research Guides Series.
What is the value of studying film? How can feature films tell us anything about the time in which they are made? Why do films look different in different periods? How do films address social issues? And how can film be used as a historical source?
These questions are central to anyone engaged in the study of film. However, film can be used in variety of different ways as part of research; not everyone uses film in the same way. The skills acquired in the fields of history, politics, English literature, sociology, cultural and media studies can all help to use film as ‘historical evidence,’ but the study of film is a discipline in its own right. Film cannot be treated simply as a historical source, but rather needs to be understood as a distinctive medium, possessed of complex visual and textual codes.
This work is intended to provide a starting point for those seeking to use film as part of research. It offers advice on research methods, film-specific theory and methodology and film-based analysis. It draws on the disparate yet frequently complementary disciplines of film and history to offer advice for students and researchers. It is deliberately intended to speak to the preoccupations of those engaged in the study of film, either at undergraduate or Masters levels, as well as those who want to use film as part of research in cognate disciplines such as social and cultural history, politics, modern languages and sociology.
This guide includes sections on working with different kinds of moving images, how to explore visual sources, how to undertake film-related research archival and how to use film theory. It addresses the complexities of studying moving image and the conventional problems associated with using films as sources, as well as broader issues related to film historiography and method. It also includes a number of detailed case studies of individual films. Everything included is intended to be an example of good research practice, whether it is conducting an interview, visiting an archive, undertaking textual analysis or defining a research question.
First up this week is The Oxford Handbook of Medieval Christianity, as Thomas O’Loughlin and editor John Arnold discuss a new introduction to a vast field of research (no. 1769, with response here).
Then we turn to George Goodwin’s Fatal Rivalry, Flodden 1513: Henry VIII, James IV and the battle for Renaissance Britain. Alexander Hodgkins reviews a valuable addition to the body of literature discussing 16th-century Renaissance kingship and conflict in a British context (no. 1768).
Next up is Manuel Barcia’s West African Warfare in Bahia and Cuba: Soldier Slaves in the Atlantic World 1807-1844. Ulrike Schmieder praises an important contribution to the history of the African Atlantic and the South Atlantic (no. 1767).
Finally Vivienne Larminie recommends The Huguenots by Geoffrey Treasure, a worthy and largely well-informed attempt to explore a worthwhile and topical subject (no. 1766).
In the mid-nineteenth century a million British workers depended on the cotton textiles industry for their livelihoods. Most of the raw cotton they turned into cloth came from the southern states of America and was cultivated by slave labour. When the American Civil War broke out in 1861 a ‘cotton famine’ ensued: the secession of the southern states not only disrupted the American Union but also disrupted the flow of cotton across the Atlantic. For more than two years the Lancashire mills stopped working and hundreds of thousands of workers relied on public relief – yet they largely accepted their lot in the noble cause of destroying slavery.
This post has been kindly written for us by Ian Stone, Isobel Thornley Junior Research Fellow at the Institute of Historical Research.
I first saw the Curriers’ Company London history essay prize advertised about this time last year. To be considered essays have to be submitted to the IHR, who judge and administer the prize, and submissions can be on any aspect of London’s history. At that point I had submitted a junior research fellowship application to the IHR and was awaiting a reply. I was looking at various prizes offered by institutions as I had the germ of an essay in mind which I thought could be formed into something more concrete. I wanted to write about an essay about politics and identity in thirteenth-century London, focussing on the career of an alderman of the city, Arnold fitz Thedmar, the first layman in this country to write a historical account of his time. I did not expect to find something with so wide a remit and so generous a prize.
By the time I had written this essay up and submitted it I had been contacted by the IHR and awarded a fellowship. Being awarded a fellowship has given me the opportunity to really widen the scope of my doctoral research. Thanks to the IHR I am currently in the process of writing up a chapter which will add depth and context to my doctoral thesis; I have also rewritten substantial sections of my earlier work to take account of new research I have been able to undertake this year.
In addition to being awarded the fellowship, I was lucky enough to find out subsequently that I had won the inaugural Curriers’ Company prize. To win such a prize, when I knew that the judging panel had received so many good entries, was a wonderful surprise. The standard of entries was so high that several of the essays which were submitted were recommended for publication in the London Journal; I know that mine and at least one other has since been accepted for publication.
On Thursday 9 April 2015 the Curriers’ Company held a prize-giving ceremony at the Mansion House in London. The Lord Mayor of London presented the two prizes on the evening; the judging panel and staff from the IHR attended; and members and officers from the Worshipful Company of Curriers were there to celebrate with us all. The Mansion House is a beautiful venue and that the Lord Mayor of London was happy to host the event, and that so many people from the Curriers Company came, shows just how much support they have for young researchers working on the history of London.
Thanks to the opportunities offered by the IHR, I have been fortunate enough to be awarded a junior research fellowship, win the Curriers’ Company essay prize and have an essay accepted for publication in a peer-reviewed journal. My advice to anyone who is thinking about applying for a fellowship or submitting an essay for the prize is to go for it. There are so many fantastic opportunities at the IHR and the Institute really does want to support early career researchers.
If 2014 was the year of rebuilding at BHO, 2015 is (so far) the year of publishing. Since the team was busy with the redevelopment in 2014, it had been a long time since we were able to add new content so we are now very glad to have an abundance of newly published and forthcoming content.
The first new publication added to BHO is an edition of the Proceedings in Parliament 1624: The House of Commonsprepared by Philip Baker of the History of Parliament Trust. This born-digital edition is being published for the first time via BHO. The first batch of materials—the parliamentary diaries for February 1624—were released on BHO 12 February, 391 years from the day of the Parliament’s first sitting in 1624. The March and April materials were released on the respective anniversaries of the Parliament’s first sittings for those months. Each new batch of publications was accompanied by a blog post describing the significance of this Parliament and the efforts involved in producing this new edition. Read the February, March and April posts.
The May proceedings still need finishing touches, but we look forward to completing the edition soon. This edition nicely complements the other parliamentary materials that we have on BHO, including the Journals of the House of Commons and the House of Lords. Read our guide to researching parliamentary history on BHO.
Finally, we have also published volumes 3 and 4 of the Calendar of Inquisitions Post Mortem, which was sponsored by the AHRC-funded ‘Mapping the Medieval Countryside‘ project. Volumes 1 and 2 of the series were published as a test case several years ago. Volumes 3 and 4 will be followed by the remainder of the series. Their release was also accompanied with a blog post introducing these volumes.
First up this week we have Broadcasting Buildings: Architecture on the Wireless, 1927-1945 by Shundana Yusaf, as Laura Carter and the author discuss a playful and scholarly new book (no. 1765, with response here).
Then we turn to Helen Castor’s Joan of Arc: A History. Kieron Creedon recommends a vivid and riveting book which combines a consummate skill for storytelling with the cogent precision of a trial lawyer (no. 1764).
Next up is Demonology and Scholarship in the Counter-Reformation by Jan Machielsen, which Francis Young believes is a book that deserves to be on the reading list of every course on the Counter-Reformation (no. 1763).
Finally we have The Life of R. H. Tawney: Socialism and History by Lawrence Goldman. Adam Timmins reviews the first full biography of the historian and social reformer (no. 1762).
This article examines the cultural nationalist movement in the Scottish Highlands during the period 1875–88, through the lens of the Celtic Magazine, a source which has been overlooked by historians. The cultural nationalist movement resulted from the intertwining of the crofters’ land reform movement with a Celtic cultural revival. It was propelled by intellectuals who promoted the distinctive Celtic nature of the Highlands and demanded recognition from the government. An imagined Highland nation, distinct from the rest of Scotland, arose from the cultural nationalist movement but fitted within a wider ‘unionist-nationalist’ identity.
Royal forests comprised land devoted primarily to hunting. They were a distinctive feature of Norman and Angevin England and Wales. Expressing the crown’s arbitrary power to prevent holders of land from using it as they chose, they were generally resented. Royal forests must disappear to enable individuals to utilize landholdings for their own private economic purposes, and so for commercially oriented land uses to occur. However, it is shown here that ‘royal forests’ did not constitute a hermetic historiographical category, distinct from non-royal ‘chases’. There were royal chases as well as royal forests; monarchs had private forests and chases as well as royal ones; and non-royal earls, barons and high churchmen possessed and created forests and chases of their own, which were as well protected and displayed the same non-economic imperatives and cultural consequences as those of the crown. They were not a transient feature of medieval times which inevitably disappeared with the inexorable progress of commercial economy. Some of them continued to flourish, in all their distinctiveness, through early modern times into the nineteenth century. In consequence, the transition between the medieval and modern worlds was not as clear-cut nor as complete as is suggested by the conventional narrative of English historical development.
Historians have devoted considerable attention to both rioting and the rise of the adversarial trial in the eighteenth century. Despite this, no research has explored how victims of riot used the courts to seek compensation. Through a comparison of the Gordon Riots and Priestley Riots, this article examines the factors that determined the relative success or failure of such cases at trial. It is suggested that the ambiguities of the Riot Act, the choice of counsel and the political and socio-economic context in which the trials were held could all influence the juries’ verdicts.
The humble ballot paper is a defining technology of elections throughout the world. This article interrogates its contested past by demonstrating – over a long period and in the context of three contrasting countries – how and why it emerged in the early modern period and how it was then used, abused and regulated in the context of the expanded, and eventually mass, electoral arenas of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Ironically, by the time that the ballot paper was firmly established, its monopoly was already being challenged by mechanical and then electronic media, which may eventually condemn it to extinction.
This post has kindly been written for us by Catherine Arnold, Mellon Dissertation Fellow at the Institute of Historical Research.
When does a state’s treatment of its subjects warrant foreign intervention? As we do today, men and women in early eighteenth-century Europe struggled to answer this question. Throughout this period the British government received formal and informal petitions for aid from religious minorities across Europe. And, in many cases, British officials responded. Between the 1690s and the 1710s, British diplomats negotiated international treaties that guaranteed rights—including liberty of conscience—for Protestants residing in Catholic states. From the mid-1710s, British ministers also instructed diplomats to petition European rulers for redress of the grievances of non-Protestant minorities or granted these groups asylum in Britain and its empire. By the 1740s, British diplomats had interceded on behalf of Jansenists in France and Jews in Portugal, Bohemia and Moravia. In my dissertation I seek to explain why this was so. Why did the British government begin to intervene on behalf of Catholic and Jewish communities—while also negotiating on behalf of Protestant minorities—between the 1690s and the 1740s?
In 1745, the British ministry responded to a transnational lobbying campaign and interceded with the Queen of Hungary, Maria Theresa, in an effort to halt the expulsion of Ashkenazi Jews from Bohemia. This print, titled “Exodus of the Jews from Prague, 1745,” and published in the same year, shows the Jewish community of Prague leaving the city. See: http://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/articles/12329-prague
To answer this question, I’ve chosen to examine the British government’s interventions on behalf of five minority communities during the early eighteenth century: Huguenots, or French Protestants, in France and on the Continent; Vaudois, or Reformed Protestants, in the duchy of Savoy, in northern Italy; Jansenists in France; and Jews in Portugal and in the territories of the Habsburg monarchy, Bohemia and Moravia, in the present-day Czech Republic. I argue that British politicians’ negotiations on behalf of Protestant and non-Protestant minorities between the 1690s and the 1740s were, in large part, the result of extra-governmental diplomacy and lobbying. Protestant and non-Protestant minorities coordinated transnational lobbying campaigns intended to convince European governments, like Britain’s, to maintain their privileges and protect them against repressive policies.
In making the case for intervention, lobbyists, propagandists, diplomats and politicians in Britain and on the Continent frequently characterized government interventions as charitable projects and justified them on moral grounds. Minorities were often referred to as “objects of charity” rather than as Lutherans, Calvinists, Catholics, or Jews. Although justifications for intervention predicated on “compassion to those poor People,” as one of the British Secretaries of State put it in 1745, had sixteenth- and seventeenth-century antecedents, my research suggests that, during the early eighteenth century, these justifications were invoked with greater regularity. What’s more, these arguments were used to justify the British government’s intercessions on behalf of non-Protestant minorities, including Jansenists and Jews.
Henri Arnaud (above) was a pastor of the Vaudois church. In 1699, when the Vaudois were forced to convert to Catholicism or leave the duchy of Savoy, Arnaud was deputized to lobby the English government for aid. See http://www.huguenot-museum-germany.com/huguenots/galleries/huguenot-portraits/a-b/arnaud-henri-1.php
How did these ‘objects of charity’ plead their cases to Britain, as well as to other European states? In my research so far, I’ve found that Protestant and non-Protestant minorities lobbied the British government by several routes. In some cases, a member of the community might be deputized to petition the British Secretary of State or a member of the royal family directly, either in writing or in person. In addition to this direct approach, communities arranged for influential British subjects to lobby on their behalf. To do so, deputies or other community members wrote to politicians, members of voluntary religious societies and members of early Enlightenment correspondence networks in Britain, asking them to plead their case to the British ministry. They also mobilized members of longstanding religious institutions across Europe—such as churches, consistories, and synagogues—to petition the British government in their favor. Communities even pressed other European governments to lobby Britain on their behalf. By convincing the British government’s constituents at home and its allies abroad to lobby on their behalf, while also conducting direct petitioning campaigns, minorities pressured the government to consider their appeals and intercede on their behalf.
As minorities mobilized acquaintances, fellow scholars, and co-religionists across Europe to lobby on their behalf, they also put pressure on European governments, like Britain’s, by publicizing their lobbying. When they lobbied the British government, members of these communities ensured that news of their appeals for aid—and, just as importantly, the ministry’s response to those appeals—circulated among European diplomats and politicians by presenting petitions to the Secretary of State in public audiences. At the same time, lobbyists often made these audiences known to a wider reading public, in Britain and in Europe, by selling printed copies of their formal petitions. News of minority grievances was also disseminated, at times, through sermons given by sympathetic clergymen or rabbis. And, not least, British and European newspapers, reported on the treatment of these communities and on their campaigns for aid, sometimes even printing letters that described minorities’ grievances or governments’ intercessions on their behalf. The public nature of these lobbying campaigns meant that the British government risked alienating sections of public opinion at home and abroad, as well as damaging its reputation at those European courts sympathetic to minorities’ grievances, by ignoring their petitions.
An example of a formal petition that also circulated in print. In 1712, as the British government began peace talks with France at the Congress of Utrecht, French Protestant “Refugees” in Britain asked the British ministry to insist that Louis XIV restore the Edict of Nantes, which had granted limited rights to French Protestants. Their petition and its accompanying memoranda (shown above) were printed and sold by French Protestant booksellers in London. Memoires, avec la garantie d’Angleterre, Presentez a son auguste Majesté la reine de la Grande Bretagne, par les François refugiez, pour obtent retablissement de l’edit de nantes. Londres, 1712. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. Gale. Yale University Library. 27 Apr. 2015
So why do these cases matter? My research suggests that, during the early eighteenth century, intercessions and lobbying constituted an increasingly differentiated sphere of international politics, one in which informal lobbying and private negotiating coexisted with, and gave direction to, governments’ formal diplomacy and policy-making on the issue of how to treat foreign minorities. On this issue, members of civil society and religious personnel from across Europe could influence British foreign policy and diplomacy through their lobbying. And, I believe, the same argument could be made for other European governments. I’ve found evidence that France, the Netherlands, the Evangelical Swiss Cantons, the Republic of Geneva, Prussia, Sweden, some German principalities, Portugal, Spain, and the Habsburg monarchy were involved in negotiations about minority communities in their own or in other states’ territories during the early eighteenth century. Over the next eight months, I will visit archives in Italy, Geneva, the Netherlands, and France to develop this argument further. At the moment, though, I argue that through these lobbying campaigns and state interventions questions of minorities’ civil and religious rights, repatriation, and asylum gradually became a part of early eighteenth-century international politics.
It’s been argued that the experience of the seventeenth-century confessional conflicts led to the emergence of the modern state system, founded on the principles of state sovereignty and nonintervention, during the late seventeenth century. My research indicates that although confessional military interventions ceased during this period – Protestant governments no longer formed leagues to defend their faith, for instance – states did continue to intervene in each other’s internal affairs. By the early eighteenth century, politicians in Britain and on the Continent had begun to undertake a type of diplomatic intervention, which was intended to protect minorities’ rights and justified on moral grounds. Transnational non-governmental organizations, including religious institutions, played a significant role in this transformation. Well before the so-called ‘humanitarian revolution’ of the later eighteenth century politicians, clergymen, and members of civil society across Europe debated whether foreign governments like Britain’s should aid repressed religious minorities in other states. By further exploring these interventions I hope to offer a new perspective on the development of modern international relations and elucidate the emergence of an international politics centered on humanitarian concerns.