History

This book contains a collection of essays addressing a number of wide-ranging, interrelated themes spanning over 200 years of the Habsburg Empire. The book is a political, religious, cultural and social history of a broad but often neglected swathe of the European continent. It seeks — against the grain of conventional presentations — to apprehend the era from the late-seventeenth to late-nineteenth century as a whole. Casting light on key aspects of the evolution towards modern statehood in Central Europe, it also dwells on the crises of ancien-regime structures there, in the face of new challenges both at home and abroad. Much attention is devoted to the Austrian or Habsburg lands, especially the interplay of the main territories which comprised them. A further central issue analysed is the evolution of the kingdom of Hungary, from its full acquisition by the Habsburgs at the beginning of the period to the emergence of the dual Austro-Hungarian Monarchy at the end. More than this though, the book examines the individual character of the essay as a genre.

This book examines the formation of the Christian ascetic tradition in the western Roman Empire during the period of the barbarian invasions, c.400–600. In an aggressively competitive political context, one of the most articulate claims to power was made, paradoxically, by men who had renounced ‘the world’, committing themselves to a life of spiritual discipline in the hope of gaining entry to an otherworldly kingdom. Often dismissed as mere fanaticism or open hypocrisy, the language of ascetic authority, the book shows, was both carefully honed and well understood in the late Roman and early medieval Mediterranean. It charts the development of this new moral rhetoric by abbots, teachers, and bishops from the time of Augustine of Hippo to that of St Benedict and Gregory the Great.

The Nazis never won a majority in free elections, but soon after Hitler took power most Germans turned away from democracy and backed the Nazi regime. Hitler was able to win growing support even as he established the Gestapo and the concentration camps. Yet for over fifty years historians have disputed what the German people knew about these camps and in what ways they were involved in the persecution of ‘race enemies’, slave workers, and social outsiders. This book looks at these issues. The book aims to expose once and for all the subsequent consent and active participation of large numbers of ordinary Germans in the terror. It shows that rather than hide their racist and repressive campaigns from the German people the Nazis trumpeted them in the national papers and on the streets. It reveals how they drew on popular images, cherished German ideals, and long-held phobias to win converts to their cause.

The Balkans have long served as a place of encounters among different peoples, religions, and civilizations, resulting in a rich cultural tapestry and mosaic of nationalities. But the Balkans have also been burdened by a traumatic post-colonial experience; the transition from failed empires to modern nation-states has been accompanied by large-scale political violence that has resulted in the deaths of hundreds of thousands and the permanent displacement of millions more. This book examines the origins of conflict in the Balkans, focusing on a number of interrelated themes, including the role of nationalism and national ideologies; modernity and state-building; the relationship between relative socio-economic backwardness and violence; and Great Power involvement. Treating the Balkan experiment as an integral part of the history of modern Europe, the book suggests that, when viewed in this comparative framework, political violence and ethnic cleansing were hardly unique to or fundamental characteristics of the Balkans. Political violence stemmed from modernity and the ideology of integral nationalism, employed by states dominated by democratizing and later authoritarian elites which were committed to national homogeneity. The political history of the Balkans since 1878 consists of democratizing states succumbing in the interwar era to dictatorships of the right, which in turn submitted at the end of the Second World War to dictatorships of the left. Throughout these successive periods the Balkan proponents of democratic governance, civil society, and multiculturalism were progressively marginalized. The history of revolution, war, political violence, and ethnic cleansing in the modern Balkans is therefore a narration on the travails of this marginalization.

This book examines how the United Kingdom government went about protecting the interests, lives, and well‐being of its prisoners of war (POWs) in Nazi Germany between 1939 and 1945. The comparatively good treatment of British prisoners in Germany has largely been explained by historians in terms of rational self‐interest, reciprocity, and influence of Nazi racism, which accorded Anglo‐Saxon servicemen a higher status than other categories of POWs. By contrast, this book offers a more nuanced picture of Anglo‐German relations and the politics of prisoners of war. Based on British, German, United States, and Swiss sources, it argues that German benevolence towards British POWs stemmed from London's success in working through neutral intermediaries, notably its protecting power (the United States and Switzerland) and the International Committee of the Red Cross, to promote German compliance with the 1929 Geneva convention, and building and sustaining a relationship with the German government that was capable of withstanding the corrosive effects of five years of warfare. It expands our understanding of both the formulation and execution of POW policy in both capitals, and sheds new light on the dynamics in inter‐belligerent relations during the war. It suggests that, while the Second World War should be rightly acknowledged as a conflict in which traditional constraints were routinely abandoned in the pursuit of political, strategic, or ideological goals, in this important area of Anglo‐German relations, customary international norms were both resilient and effective.

Commonly stigmatized as “bastards” in early modern France, children born out of wedlock were said to have neither kin nor kind, neither family nor nation. In practice, however, many natural parents voluntarily recognized their extramarital offspring and raised them within their households. Because early modern France lacked a uniform code of civil law, the rights and legal disabilities of these children were matters of perennial litigation and debate. The stigmatization of extramarital offspring intensified in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries as the sovereign courts curbed the rights that such children had traditionally enjoyed. This bolstered the collective power of the elite lineages at the expense of individual passions. These families were the primary architects and beneficiaries of the development of absolute monarchy in France. However, in the eighteenth century, the growing problem of child abandonment prompted many jurists to reconsider whether the stigmatization of extramarital offspring was truly in the interest of the public and the state. At the same time, natural parents continued to exploit persistent variations in French law to provide favors and advantages to their extramarital offspring. Even as French legal culture increasingly shifted from an adjudicatory toward a more legislative model amid the deepening crisis of the Bourbon monarchy, children born out of wedlock were increasingly destigmatized as “natural children.”

Since 1918, Czechoslovakia has been known as East–Central Europe's most devoted democracy, an outpost of Western values in the East. While the country has had a more democratic experience than its neighbors, this book argues that the claim that Czechs are “native democrats,” devoted to liberal ideas, emerged from nationalist myth. Battle for the Castle tells the story of that myth's creation during the First World War, and how it was used to persuade the Great Powers to create Czechoslovakia out of pieces of Austria–Hungary. Tomáš Masaryk and Edvard Beneš, the two academics crafting the myth and employing it for wartime propaganda, became Czechoslovakia's first president and foreign minister. They tried to use the myth to outmaneuver political opponents at home and Czechoslovakia's enemies abroad. Those enemies, and the European Great Powers, also conducted their own propaganda campaigns targeting Czechoslovakia as a symbol of the postwar order. At home, while proclaiming themselves the protectors of democracy, Masaryk and Beneš played political hardball through their powerful political machine, the Castle, and defended their legacy against their detractors. Nazi occupation in 1938 seemed to prove out the Castle myth's claims about pacifist Czechs and aggressive Germans. During the war, Beneš remade the myth to reflect changed international circumstances, particularly the Soviet Union's new power. After the war and the 1948 Communist takeover of Czechoslovakia, the myth entered Anglo–American historiography of Czechoslovakia and Eastern Europe. Within academic histories of Czechoslovakia—many of them written by Masaryk's students or Castle colleagues—the myth was transmuted into fact.

This is the story of water, a valley, and a city. The city was San Francisco, the valley was Hetch Hetchy, and the waters were from the Tuolumne River watershed, located within Yosemite National Park. In 1905, for the first time in American history, a significant national opposition led by John Muir and the Sierra Club sought to protect the valley from a dam, believing that its beauty should be enjoyed by the American people. On the other side, San Franciso mayor James Phelan believed it was his civic responsibility to provide his 750,000 constituents with a pure, abundant source of water. From 1905 until 1913, the two sides fought over the destiny of the Hetch Hetchy: Would the glacier-carved valley become a reservoir or remain an inviolate part of Yosemite National Park? Finally, Congress decided the issue by passage of the Raker Act, granting the valley to San Francisco's use. By 1923, San Francisco engineers completed the huge O'Shaughnessy Dam, submerging the valley under over 200 feet of water. However, the battle did not end. Who would control the vast watershed of the Tuolumne River: The City of San Francisco or the National Park Service? And would the hydro electric power provide for a city-owned system or would it be sold to a private company? For the first time, the full story of this epic battle is told in an evenhanded way. It is a story without end, however, and the final chapter discusses the idea of removing the dam and restoring the valley, an idea which is gaining currency throughout the US.

The first slaves imported to America did not see themselves as “African” but rather as Temne, Igbo, or Yoruban. This book reveals how an African identity emerged in the late 18th-century Atlantic world, tracing the development of “African” from a degrading term connoting savage people, to a word that was a source of pride and unity for the diverse victims of the Atlantic slave trade. The book first examines the work of black writers — such as Ignatius Sancho in England and Phillis Wheatley in America — who created a narrative of African identity that took its meaning from the diaspora, a narrative that began with enslavement and the experience of the Middle Passage, allowing people of various ethnic backgrounds to become “African” by virtue of sharing the oppression of slavery. It looks at political activists who worked within the emerging antislavery moment in England and North America in the 1780s and 1790s; it describes the rise of the African church movement in various cities — most notably, the establishment of the African Methodist Episcopal Church as an independent denomination — and the efforts of wealthy sea captain Paul Cuffe to initiate a black-controlled emigration movement that would forge ties between Sierra Leone and blacks in North America; and it examines in detail the efforts of blacks to emigrate to Africa, founding Sierra Leone and Liberia.

The collapse of Austria-Hungary in 1918 left all Austrians in a state of political, social, and economic turmoil, but Jews in particular found their lives shaken to the core. Although Jews’ former comfort zone suddenly disappeared, the dissolution of the Dual Monarchy also created room for cultural innovation and change. Jews eagerly took up the challenge to fill this void, becoming heavily invested in culture as a way to shape their new, but also vexed, self-understandings. By examining formative events in both Vienna and the provinces, this book demonstrates that an intensified marking of people, places, and events as “Jewish” accompanied the crises occurring in the wake of Austria-Hungary’s collapse, leaving profound effects on Austria’s cultural legacy. By examining the role Jewish difference played in the lives, works, and deeds of a broad range of Austrians, this study reveals how the social codings of politics, gender, and nation received a powerful boost when articulated using the terms of Jewish difference.