Volume 65 Issue 3 March 2015
A tax on Britain's American colonies was introduced on 22 March 1765.
The physician died on March 5th, 1815.
Virginia Nicholson acknowledges the debt she owes as a popular historian to academics such as Roland Quinault, whose 2001 essay on Britain in the 1950s remains a rich source of information.
Jerome de Groot highlights some recent historical fiction, en-route encountering Eleanor of Aquitaine, Johannes Gutenberg, Simón Bolívar and the spirit of Marcel Proust.
Roger Hudson details the defining role played by oil in the predominantly Kurdish-populated city of Kirkuk in Iraq.
Eleventh-century Córdoba was at the heart of the rich culture of Muslim Andalusia. Among its greatest creative figures was Wallada, princess, patron and poet, and one of the most influential women writers in European history.
The people of Brighton offered a warm welcome to the Indian soldiers sent to convalesce at the Sussex resort in the First World War. But the military authorities found much to be nervous about.
Robert Colls offers a personal reflection upon the religious roots of the Labour Party.
The world of shopping in Georgian London offered an array of retail experiences for women in pursuit of the ultimate in fashionable clothing, every bit as sophisticated as those open to the 21st-century shopper.
John Aubrey, best known for his concise and incisive pen portraits of his 17th-century contemporaries, left no diary of his own. Ruth Scurr set herself the challenge of imagining one from the remnants of his life.
Fern Riddell investigates the campaign of terror orchestrated by the Edwardian suffragette movement before the First World War and asks why it has been neglected by historians.
The struggle for control of the straits dividing Sicily from southern Italy brought the two great empires of the Mediterranean, Carthage and Rome, head to head. It was a world in which ruthless mercenaries prospered.
How much are actions – especially extreme ones – the result of impersonal historical forces and how much are they dependent upon the impulses of individual actors?
Schoolboys forget their books, lose their pens and laugh at dirty jokes. This was true even in the rigorous atmosphere of the Anglo-Saxon classroom.