Journal articles on the topic 'Nineteenth century ethnology'

Whitman's apparently positive depictions of racial others are intepreted in the light of his assumptions about biological indicators of racial identity and the role literature plays in recording that identity. Part one demonstrates that in the context of nineteenth-century racial thought a poem like "Salut au Monde!" seems directed less toward celebrating cultural diversity and more toward indicating the less-evolved status of other races compared to Americans. Whitman cannot describe the typical American as fulsomely as he can others, however, who serve in his poems as models of racy individuality-however backward they may seem. Part two therefore looks at Whitman's examination of various "specimens" of American identity, such as Lincoln, and at the ironies and contradictions that frustrate this examination. The problem for Whitman was not racial difference (racial others being for him and his contemporaries known quantities) but racial sameness. What Whitman needs, then, is some symbolic means of bridging the gap between actual American diversity and the ideological imperative of American identity, and this he finds in the concept of similitude (adumbrated in "Song of Myself"). But Whitman's poetry offers resolutions unavailable (and undesirable) in American culture. Part three describes Whitman's cultural discontent, chiefly as expressed in Democratic Vistas, where he chastises Americans for their bodily grossness and bad manners and discusses what he calls "the democratic ethnology of the future," a racial solution to America's cultural problems.

Gottfried Semper is often credited with originating the concept of the building as skin in architectural theory, but an alternative trajectory of this idea can be found in the mid-nineteenth-century science of hygiene. In Skin, Clothing, and Dwelling: Max von Pettenkofer, the Science of Hygiene, and Breathing Walls, Didem Ekici explores the affinity of skin, clothing, and dwelling in nineteenth-century German thinking, focusing on a marginal figure in architectural history, physician Max von Pettenkofer (1818–1901), the “father of experimental hygiene.” Pettenkofer's concept of clothing and dwelling as skins influenced theories of architecture that emphasized the environmental performance of the architectural envelope. This article examines Pettenkofer's writings and contemporary works on hygiene, ethnology, Kulturgeschichte (cultural history), and linguistics that linked skin, clothing, and dwelling. From nineteenth-century “breathing walls” to today's high-performance envelopes, theories of the building as a regulating membrane are a testament to the unsung legacy of Pettenkofer and the science of hygiene.

AbstractThis article offers some reflections on the use of correspondence for the history of scholarly disciplines. These reflections are based on a case study of two prominent philologists from the Netherlands: the historian and archivist Hendrik van Wijn (1740–1831) and the literary scholar and cultural historian Allard Pierson (1831–1896). After a short overview of the development of the object of research, methodology and professionalization of nineteenth-century philology, the article points out three aspects that make letters written by philologists a valuable source for the history of the discipline: their function as a carrier of knowledge and insights, the information they provide about the ethnology of knowledge, and the fact that they were used as a medium for confidential expression.

This article presents the letters sent by the late nineteenth-century English writer Elizabeth Mayhew Edmonds to the Greek folklorist Nikolaos G. Politis. While a preoccupation with folklore and ethnology predisposed the Victorian public to take a narrow view of Greek society, Edmonds's interest in both vernacular culture and the literary, social and political life of modern Greece enriched the complex cultural exchange that developed between European (Neo)Hellenists and Greek scholars. This European-wide discourse promoted modern Greece as an autonomous subject of study, worthy of intellectual pursuit.

This paper examines the central role of ethnology, the science of race, in the administration of colonial India. This occurred on two levels. First, from the late eighteenth century onwards, proto-scientists and administrators in India engaged with metropolitan theorists through the provision of data on native society and habits. Second, these same agents were continually and reciprocally influenced in the collection and use of such data by the political doctrines and scientific theories that developed over the course of this period. Among the central interests of ethnographer-administrators was the native criminal and this paper uses knowledge developed about native crime and criminality to illustrate the way science became integral to administration in the colonial domain.

While a few larger collections of objects of East Asian origin entered Slovenian mu­seums after the deaths of their owners in the 1950s and 60s, individual items had begun finding their way there as early as the nineteenth century. Museums were faced early on with the problem not only of how to store and exhibit the objects, but also how to categorize them. Were they to be treated as “art” on account of their aesthetic value or did they belong, rather, to the field of “ethnography” or “anthropology” because they could illustrate the way of life of other peoples? Above all, in which museums were these objects to be housed? The present paper offers an in-depth analysis of these and related questions, seeking to shed light on how East Asian objects have been showcased in Slovenia (with a focus on the National Museum and the Slovene Ethnographic Museum) over the past two hundred years. In particular, it explores the values and criteria that were applied when placing these objects into individual categories. In contrast to the conceptual shift from “ethnology” to the “decorative and fine arts,” which can mostly be observed in the categorization of East Asian objects in North America and the former European colonial countries, the classification of such objects in Slovenia varied between “ethnology” and “cultural history,” with ethnology ultimately coming out on top. This ties in with the more general question of how (East) Asian cultures were understood and perceived in Slovenia, which is itself related to the historical and social development of the “peripheral” Slovenian area compared with former major imperial centres.

Carnival as a research object has been studied from a multiplicity of perspectives: folklore studies, European ethnology, social and cultural anthropology, history, sociology, etc. Each of these disciplines has enriched the literature by focusing on different aspects of the event, such as its participatory nature, its transformative potential (at an individual or collective level), and its political dimension broadly conceived. The present article reviews this scholarship and uses it to analyze the contemporary Parisian Carnival, which has tried to revive the nineteenth-century Promenade du Boeuf Gras tradition on a local and translocal level through its creative collaboration with the carnival of Cherbourg, Normandy. I argue that, through satire and other politicized carnival rituals, the recent protagonists of Parisian Carnival (Les Fumantes de Pantruche) have reinvented the festivities and influenced Norman Carnival, thus extending the boundaries of belonging in both cities.

The German ethnologist Gustav Klemm (1802–67) occupies a rather problematic position in the history of ideas, alternately hailed as a seminal figure in the development of concepts of race and culture, or belittled as a rather derivative marginal thinker. This article seeks to clarify Klemm's significance by rooting his theories in their contemporary intellectual and social context. It argues that his system, a linear model of human development driven by the interworkings of race and culture, grew from an attempt to synthesize Enlightenment notions of universal progress with major shifts of the mid-nineteenth century, including experiences of dramatic social, political and technological change, commitments to constitutional liberalism, and changes in contemporary ethnology and museology. His works therefore illustrate the complex manners in which ideas of heredity, environment, civilization, development and gender could be blended in this often neglected period, and how their meanings and implications altered as syntheses were built.

Abstract The forty-one years between the Society of Jesus’s papal suppression in 1773 and its eventual restoration in 1814 remain controversial, with new research and interpretations continually appearing. Shore’s narrative approaches these years, and the period preceding the suppression, from a new perspective that covers individuals not usually discussed in works dealing with this topic. As well as examining the contributions of former Jesuits to fields as diverse as ethnology—a term and concept pioneered by an ex-Jesuit—and library science, where Jesuits and ex-Jesuits laid the groundwork for the great advances of the nineteenth century, the essay also explores the period the exiled Society spent in the Russian Empire. It concludes with a discussion of the Society’s restoration in the broader context of world history.

This article explores the importance of the Derbyshire antiquarian Thomas Bateman in the context of mid-nineteenth-century debates about ethnology, craniology, and archaeological chronology. New information on the relationship between Bateman and the authors ofCrania Britannica, Joseph Barnard Davis and John Thurnam, is brought to light thanks to unpublished archival material from the Sheffield Museums and the Royal Anthropological Institute.Crania Britannicawas the first publication of British national skull types from prehistory to the Anglo-Saxon period. The publication employed the techniques of craniology—the systematic study of head types—as a chronological tool. Indeed, craniology is often seen as the mechanism by which the Three Age System was initially received in Britain and Ireland. Here, Bateman's involvement in the publication and his own theories on the development of the past with regard to cranial sequencing and archaeological chronology are explored in greater detail.

Scholars of religion frequently distinguish between the religions practiced by American Indians and non-Natives, raising a question about the role of religion in constructing and preserving notions of human difference. The present article locates key assumptions about the inherent distinction of Indigenous religions in early anthropological and linguistic research on American Indians. I demonstrate that as anthropologists studied Native cultures in the late nineteenth century, they drew on evolutionary theories of language in order to construct racialized cultural classifications. Analysis of language provided a framework and foundation for research on American Indian religions. I focus on the writings produced by the Bureau of American Ethnology (bae), led by the influential anthropologist John Wesley Powell, who directed the Bureau from 1879 to 1902. Drawing on philology, the science of language, bae researchers outlined a perceived essential difference between spiritual capacities of American Indians and non-Natives.

Abstract The present article represents a partial outcome of a larger project that focuses on the history of the beginnings of anthropology as an organized science at the end of the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth centuries, in the broader socio-political context of Central Europe. Attention is focused especially on the nationalist and social competitions that had an important impact upon intellectual developments, but in turn were influenced by the activities of scholars and their public activities. The case study of Vojtěch (Alberto) Frič, traveler and amateur anthropologist, who in the first two decades of the twentieth century presented to European scientific circles and the general public in the Czech Lands his magnanimous vision of the comparative study of religions, serves as a starting point for considerations concerning the general debates on the purpose, methods, and ethical dimensions of ethnology as these were resonating in Central European academia of the period under study.

This [the Valluvar legend] is one of the traditions which are so repugnant to inveterate popular prejudice that they appear too strange for fiction, and are probably founded on fact. (Robert Caldwell 1875:132).If we now recognize that literary history is more than a history of literature, it is perhaps less widely accepted that the writing of literary history is an important subject for literary historiography. Yet literary histories are a rich source for understanding local conceptions of both history and literature. More accessible than archaeology, more tangible than ethnology, literary histories are culturally constructed narratives in which the past is reimagined in the light of contemporary concerns. Certainly in nineteenth-century India, the focus of this essay, literary history was seized upon as evidence to be advanced in the major debates of the time; cultural identities, language ideologies, civilization hierarchies and nationalism were all asserted and challenged through literary histories in colonial India. Asserted and challenged by Europeans, as well as Indians.

Toward the end of The Descent of Man, Darwin made a striking assertion. “I would as soon be descended,” he claimed, from a “heroic little monkey” than from a “savage” who practiced torture and infanticide, treated “wives like slaves,” and was indecent and superstitious. These lines have been often quoted but rarely analyzed. I argue here that they provide a means for following Darwin’s thought as he grappled with contemporary ethnological evidence that seemed—if today’s “savages” were to be taken as models for primeval humans—to work against his theory of sexual selection as it applied to humankind. In addition to explicating what I suggest is a crucial element of Descent, this paper has three aims, all of which help us better understand the relationships between ethnology and Darwinian thought. First, to offer a selective intellectual history of British ethnology between 1864 and 1871, focusing on those texts that Darwin deemed most problematic for his arguments. Second, and as a result, to better specify Darwin’s views on race by comparing him not to his opponents, but to his like-minded peers, a group I term “liberal racialists.” Third, to explore the utility of what I term the “geological analogy,” a mid-nineteenth-century version of the comparative method (which substituted study of “less developed” peoples today for humans in much earlier periods). Where liberal ethnologists deployed the geological analogy consistently, Darwin would be much more selective, denying its application at times in favor of analogies to lower animals. He would thus save his theoretical suppositions by denying that contemporary “lower” races, with their depraved morality, could serve as appropriate models for our apparently more decent, yet more animalistic forebears.

AbstractA recently blossoming historiographical literature recognizes that physical anthropologists allied with scholars of diverse aspects of society and history to racially classify European peoples over a period of about a hundred years. They created three successive race classification coalitions – ethnology, from around 1840; anthropology, from the 1850s; and interwar raciology – each of which successively disintegrated. The present genealogical study argues that representing these coalitions as ‘transdisciplinary’ can enrich our understanding of challenges to disciplinary specialization. This is especially the case for the less well-studied nineteenth century, when disciplines and challenges to disciplinary specialization were both gradually emerging. Like Marxism or structuralism, race classification was a holistic interpretive framework, which, at its most ambitious, aimed to structure the human sciences as a whole. It resisted the organization of academia and knowledge into disciplines with separate organizational institutions and research practices. However, the ‘transdisciplinarity’ of this nationalistic project also bridged emerging borderlines between science and politics. I ascribe race classification's simultaneous longevity and instability to its complex and intricately entwined processes of political and interdisciplinary coalition building. Race classification's politically useful conclusions helped secure public support for institutionalizing the coalition's component disciplines. Institutionalization in turn stimulated disciplines to professionalize. They emphasized disciplinary boundaries and insisted on apolitical science, thus ultimately undermining the ‘transdisciplinary’ project.

The article presents the sociological and ethnological features (aspects) in the analysis of state ethnic politics. The possibilities of synthesis between sociological and ethnological methods in the process of analysis of state ethnic politics are determined. The relevance of the influence of sociological and ethnological aspects on the process of rational and prudent ethnic politics in the country in our time is analyzed. The definitions of sociology and ethnology and the sphere of their knowledge and scientific efficiency are given. Constructive derivatives during the synthesis of sociological and ethnological methods of cognition of society are found out. The work of foreign and Ukrainian scientists and researchers on state ethnic politics is considered. The historical process of the late nineteenth - twentieth centuries, which led humanity to the emergence of modern state-administrative issues and problems, is analyzed. The types of social structuring of societies and the social structure of modern Ukrainian society, which is considered to be the most acceptable and generally recognized, are defined as schemes. The ethnic structure of human society on the theory of ethnogenesis, proposed by LM Gumilev at the end of the twentieth century, and the author's vision of socio-ethnic structuring of societies in a schematic form are highlighted. The author presents a schematic view of one of the possible variants of the scientific vision of the ethno-social structuring of the societies of the world, including Ukrainian society. The logical definition of the important scientific term "nation" (nation) and the importance of universalizing the terminological and conceptual base in the analysis of national ethnic politics are presented. Conclusions have been made regarding the prospects for further development of public administration science.

AbstractAttempts to assess the results of colonial anthropology in Indonesia faced some problems, which, until recently, have not been dealt with properly. Therefore, in a newly published comprehensive history of anthropology in the Netherlands, several studies focused on the character, rather than on the substance of colonial anthropology. In the case of Dutch colonial representations of Indonesia, 'colonial anthropology' appears to be an assemblage of various disciplines that constituted a fragmented whole (Indologie; Dutch Indies Studies) from which today's Dutch academic anthropology emerged. However, projection of current conceptions of anthropology into the colonial past resulted in a tendency to neglect some major characteristics of early representations that are imperative for the interpretation of these representations. Besides, a rather limited familiarity amongst present-day anthropologists with the way in which Dutch colonial politics became immersed in international discourses resulted in misappraisal of an essential change in colonial knowledge: the shift from local to analytical representations, deeply affecting the portrayal of Indonesian cultures. In colonial knowledge production, emphasis moved from ethnographic particularism to essentialist conceptions like 'Knowledge of the Native'. This shift also had serious consequences for the academic position of ethnology amongst other colonial disciplines. Until recently, this misappraisal could escape notice because students of Dutch colonial anthropology were insufficiently aware of the effects on interpretation of the great variety of disciplinary discourses, so characteristic for Dutch colonial studies. Therefore, we will here concentrate on these effects and on the growing intertwinement of knowledge and politics which was directly related to the international orientation of colonial policy that became increasingly prominent after the mid-nineteenth century.

With the partitioning in 1373 of the domain of Nikola Altomanovic, a Serbian feudal lord, the old political core of the Serbian heartland was shattered and the feudal Bosnian state considerably extended to the east. The region was crossed by the Tara river, mostly along the southeast-northwest "Dinaric course". Although the line along which Altomanovic?s domain was partitioned has been discussed on several occasions and over a comparatively long period, analyses show that the identification of its section south of the Tara is still burdened by a number of unanswered questions, which are the topic of this paper. An accurate identification of this historical boundary is of interest not only to historiography, but also to archaeology ethnology, philology (the history of language and dialectology in particular) and other related disciplines. The charters of Alphonse V and Friedrich III concerning the domain of herceg Stefan Vukcic Kosaca, and other historical sources relating to the estates of the Kosaca cannot reliably con?rm that the zupa of Moraca belonged to the Kosaca domain. The castrum Moratsky and the civitate Morachij from the two charters stand for the fortress near the village of Gornje Morakovo in the zupa of Niksic known as Mrakovac in the nineteenth century, and as Jerinin Grad/Jerina?s Castle in recent times. The zupa of Moraca, as well as the neighbouring Zupa of Brskovo in the Tara river valley, belonged to the domain of the Brankovic from the moment the territory of zupan Nikola Altomanovic was partitioned until 1455, when the Turks ?nally conquered the region thereby ending the 60-year period of dual, Serbian-Turkish, rule. Out of the domain of the Brankovic the Turks created two temporary territorial units: Krajiste of Issa-bey Ishakovic and the Vlk district (the latter subsequently became the san?ak of Vucitrn). The zupa of Moraca became part of Issa-bey Ishakovic?s domain, and was registered as such, although the fact is more di?cult to see from the surviving Turkish cadastral record. The zupa of Moraca did not belong to the vilayet of Hersek, originally established by the Turks within their temporary vilayet system after most of the Kosaca domain had been seized. It was only with the establishing of the San?ak of Herzegovina that three nahiyes which formerly constituted the Zupa of Moraca (Donja/Lower Moraca, Gornja/Upper Moraca and Rovci) were detached from Issa-bey?s territory and included into the San?ak of Hercegovina. It was then that they were registered as part of that San?ak and began to be regarded as being part of Herzegovina.

The Lithuanian and Polish linguistic legacy of Antanas Juška from a twenty-first-century perspectiveThis article presents the assumptions of new research on the legacy of Antanas Juška, recorded in Lithuanian and Polish. We assume that the forgotten works of this bilingual author from Lithuania, mainly translation dictionaries, are an underestimated study material for interdisciplinary research. They are particularly important for understanding the rich conceptualisations of the world by two collective subjects, Poles and Lithuanians, co-existing in Lithuania under the Russian partition. We have formulated two research hypotheses: (1) the bilingual dictionaries authored by Antanas Juška, who was a Catholic priest, are not only a valuable source of knowledge about the state of the Polish and Lithuanian languages in the nineteenth century, but above all specific cultural texts which form part of the social discourse of their time and place, and thus carry relevant ethnolinguistic and ethnocultural information; (2) bilingual dictionaries as a genre had an impact on the crystallisation of Lithuanian national awareness and the strengthening of cultural identity of Lithuanians in the second half of the nineteenth century.Juška’s linguistic legacy will be jointly studied by Polish and Lithuanian researchers from different perspectives, applying the tools and methods available in twenty-first-century humanities.I. In the ethnolinguistic and ethnohistorical paradigm: in view of the hypothesis that bilingual dictionaries constitute a narrative about the world and its historical time, we extract linguistic data that will enable us to capture the lexical and conceptual symmetry and asymmetry between the linguistic woldview of Poles and Lithuanians in the context of the crystallisation of Lithuanian national awareness.II. In the comparative perspective: (1) we will present Juška’s lexicographic legacy against the background of the Lithuanian and Polish lexicographic tradition; we will confront the lexicographic practice and the macro- and microstructure of his dictionaries with important works of Lithuanian lexicography and contemporary dictionaries recording colloquial, dialectal and regional vocabulary of various sub-regions of Lithuania; (2) we will compare the Polish material recorded in Juška’s translation dictionaries with dictionaries of the general, dialectal and regional Polish language from Lithuania; (3) we will answer the question whether the introduction of Russian translations into the Lithuanian-Polish dictionary published by the Imperial Academy of Sciences in Saint Petersburg was merely a political requirement stemming from the political situation and censorship, or whether these translations complement the meanings of the Polish and Lithuanian entries.III. In the sociolinguistic and communication aspect: language contact and multilingualism, and the attendant processes of borrowing, mixing and “combining” vocabulary among users of the regional Polish language and spoken Lithuanian.Our research draws the attention of linguists to old, underestimated texts. It also indicates the cognitive value of linguistic analysis open to history, ethnology and identity studies. By studying Juška’s linguistic legacy in the context of modern scholarship, we introduce it into the sphere of collective life of Lithuanians and Poles. In this way, we create a plane for a better mutual understanding which will foster the overcoming of negative national stereotypes. Litewska i polska spuścizna językowa Antoniego Juszkiewicza (Antanasa Juški) z perspektywy XXI wiekuW artykule przedstawiamy założenia nowych badań spuścizny Antoniego Juszkiewicza (Juški) zapisanej w języku litewskim i polskim. Wychodzimy z założenia, że zapomniany dorobek Juszkiewicza, autora dwujęzycznego z Litwy, złożony głównie ze słowników przekładowych, jest niedocenioną bazą materiałową do prowadzenia interdyscyplinarnych badań, a zwłaszcza do poznania bogactwa konceptualizacji świata przez dwa podmioty zbiorowe, Polaków i Litwinów, współegzystujących na Litwie w sytuacji zaboru rosyjskiego Przyjmujemy dwie hipotezy badawcze: 1) słowniki dwujęzyczne, skonstruowane przez księdza katolickiego A. Juszkiewicza, są nie tylko cennym źródłem wiedzy o stanie języka polskiego i litewskiego w XIX wieku, lecz przede wszystkim swoistymi tekstami kultury, wpisującymi się w dyskurs społeczny czasu i miejsca oraz nośnikami relewantnych informacji etnolingwistycznych i etnokulturowych; 2) słowniki dwujęzyczne jako gatunek tekstu oddziaływały na krystalizowanie się narodowej świadomości litewskiej i umacnianie tożsamości kulturowej Litwinów w drugiej połowie XIX wieku.Spuścizna językowa Juszkiewicza będzie odczytana wspólnie przez badaczy polskich i litewskich na nowo z różnych perspektyw, z wykorzystaniem narzędzi i metod, jakie daje nam humanistyka XXI wieku:I. W paradygmacie etnolingwistycznym i etnohistorycznym: zgodnie z przyjętą hipotezą, że słowniki dwujęzyczne są swoistą narracją o świecie i czasie historycznym, będziemy ekscerpować z nich dane językowe, które pozwolą nam uchwycić symetrię i asymetrię leksykalno-pojęciową między językowym obrazem świata Polaków i Litwinów w sytuacji krystalizowania się litewskiej świadomości narodowej;II. W perspektywie komparatystycznej: 1) ukażemy spuściznę leksykograficzną Juszkiewicza na tle tradycji leksykograficznej litewskiej i polskiej; skonfrontujemy warsztat leksykograficzny oraz makro- i mikrostruktury słowników A. Juszkiewicza z ważnymi dziełami leksykografii przekładowej litewskiej oraz współczesnymi słownikami rejestrującymi słownictwo potoczne, gwarowe i regionalne różnych subregionów Litwy; 2) porównamy materiał polski zarejestrowany w słownikach przekładowych Juszkiewiczów ze Słownikiem języka polskiego tzw. wileńskim, Słownikiem gwar polskich J. Karłowicza, ze słownictwem współczesnej polszczyzny gwarowej na Litwie; 3) odpowiemy na pytanie, czy wprowadzenie tłumaczeń rosyjskich do wydanej przez Imperatorską Akademię Nauk w Sankt Petersburgu części słownika litewsko-polskiego, mające w sytuacji zaborów podłoże polityczne, wniosło uzupełnienia znaczeń haseł polskich i litewskich;III. W aspekcie socjolingwistycznym i komunikacyjnym: w kontekście kontaktów językowych i zachodzących w sytuacji wielojęzyczności procesów zapożyczania, mieszania i „uwspólniania” słownictwa między użytkownikami polszczyzny regionalnej i mówionego języka litewskiego.Nasze badania kierują uwagę lingwistów na teksty dawne, niedocenione, wskazując, jak ważne poznawczo efekty można uzyskać w ich analizie, gdy otwieramy językoznawstwo na historię, etnologię, naukę o tożsamości. Włączając spuściznę lingwistyczną A. Juszkiewicza w obszar współczesnej nauki, wprowadzamy ją zarazem w sferę życia zbiorowego Litwinów i Polaków. Stwarzamy tym samym płaszczyznę do lepszego zrozumienia siebie nawzajem i przewartościowania negatywnych stereotypów narodowych.

The Atlantic World, 1450-2000, edited by Toyin Falola & Kevin D. Roberts (reviewed by Aaron Spencer Fogleman) The Slave Ship: A Human History, by Marcus Rediker (reviewed by Justin Roberts) Extending the Frontiers: Essays on the New Transatlantic Slave Trade Database, edited by David Eltis & David Richardson (reviewed by Joseph C. Miller) "New Negroes from Africa": Slave Trade Abolition and Free African Settlement in the Nineteenth-Century Caribbean, by Rosanne Marion Adderley (reviewed by Nicolette Bethel) Atlantic Diasporas: Jews, Conversos, and Crypto-Jews in the Age of Mercantilism, 1500-1800, edited by Richard L. Kagan & Philip D. Morgan (reviewed by Jonathan Schorsch) Brother’s Keeper: The United States, Race, and Empire in the British Caribbean, 1937-1962, by Jason C. Parker (reviewed by Charlie Whitham) Labour and the Multiracial Project in the Caribbean: Its History and Promise, by Sara Abraham (reviewed by Douglas Midgett) Envisioning Caribbean Futures: Jamaican Perspectives, by Brian Meeks (reviewed by Gina Athena Ulysse) Archibald Monteath: Igbo, Jamaican, Moravian, by Maureen Warner-Lewis (reviewed by Jon Sensbach) Left of Karl Marx: The Political Life of Black Communist Claudia Jones, by Carole Boyce Davies (reviewed by Linden Lewis) Displacements and Transformations in Caribbean Cultures, edited by Lizabeth Paravisini-Gebert & Ivette Romero-Cesareo (reviewed by Bill Maurer) Caribbean Migration to Western Europe and the United States: Essays on Incorporation, Identity, and Citizenship, edited by Margarita Cervantes-Rodríguez, Ramón Grosfoguel & Eric Mielants (reviewed by Gert Oostindie) Home Cooking in the Global Village: Caribbean Food from Buccaneers to Ecotourists, by Richard Wilk (reviewed by William H. Fisher) Dead Man in Paradise: Unraveling a Murder from a Time of Revolution, by J.B. MacKinnon (reviewed by Edward Paulino) Tropical Zion: General Trujillo, FDR, and the Jews of Sosúa, by Allen Wells (reviewed by Michael R. Hall) Downtown Ladies: Informal Commercial Importers, a Haitian Anthropologist, and Self-Making in Jamaica, by Gina A. Ulysse (reviewed by Jean Besson) Une ethnologue à Port-au-Prince: Question de couleur et luttes pour le classement socio-racial dans la capitale haïtienne, by Natacha Giafferi-Dombre (reviewed by Catherine Benoît) Haitian Vodou: Spirit, Myth, and Reality, edited by Patrick Bellegarde-Smith & Claudine Michel (reviewed by Susan Kwosek) Cuba: Religion, Social Capital, and Development, by Adrian H. Hearn (reviewed by Nadine Fernandez) "Mek Some Noise": Gospel Music and the Ethics of Style in Trinidad, by Timothy Rommen (reviewed by Daniel A. Segal)Routes and Roots: Navigating Caribbean and Pacific Island Literatures, by Elizabeth M. DeLoughrey (reviewed by Anthony Carrigan) Claude McKay, Code Name Sasha: Queer Black Marxism and the Harlem Renaissance, by Gary Edward Holcomb (reviewed by Brent Hayes Edwards) The Sense of Community in French Caribbean Fiction, by Celia Britton (reviewed by J. Michael Dash) Imaging the Chinese in Cuban Literature and Culture, by Ignacio López-Calvo (reviewed by Stephen Wilkinson) Pre-Columbian Jamaica, by P. Allsworth-Jones (reviewed by William F. Keegan) Underwater and Maritime Archaeology in Latin America and the Caribbean, edited by Margaret E. Leshikar-Denton & Pilar Luna Erreguerena (reviewed by Erika Laanela)

Analyzing the work of Max Schmidt (1874-1950), especially his 1917 book Die Aruaken. Ein Beitrag zum Problem der Kulturverbreitung [The Arawak: A Contribution to the Problem of Cultural Dissemination], this article deals with methodological and theoretical trends among German ethnologists carrying out expeditions in the Amazon region at the turn of the nineteenth century. The approaches outlined are placed in the context of the institutionalisation of ethnology as a separate academic discipline in Germany. The focus is on the development of modern fieldwork methods; the critique of diffusionism by Schmidt and other South America researchers; and the specific approaches of Max Schmidt who, in spite of the contemporary emphasis on "material" and "intellectual" culture, also considered sociological issues in his analysis.

As the United States expanded in the late eighteenth century and through most of the nineteenth century, much interest and question was raised over the increasing numbers of earthen mounds and earthen constructions encountered by the settlers moving westward across the southeastern woodlands. Mounds? Mound builders? Enough questions were raised about their origins that in 1881, the Division of Mound Exploration of the Bureau of Ethnology, Smithsonian Institution, was established to address and resolve these issues. The work of the Division of Mound Exploration can be considered the first "modern archeology" done in the United States. Their mound research covered the Dakotas to Texas and all points east. The final research report by Division Head, Cyrus Thomas, was published as the Twelfth Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology. In this report, Thomas mentions in the Gulf District that: some two or three mounds of peculiar form have been discovered in Mississippi and the Arkansas district that have not been observed elsewhere in the mound area. These may be described as earthen platforms surmounted by a conical mound or a conical mound surrounded by a terrace. Sometimes the conical mound is small in proportion to the platform and is not central...A double mound of this type, or mound with two apices, has been observed in western Mississippi. The primary purpose of this report is to make known the occurrence of a two-phase Caddoan earthen mound in Upshur County. Furthermore, this report seeks to add this site to the inventory of known archeological resources of the Cypress Creek basin. Available data relevant to the Cypress Basin and the immediate area of the site has also been summarized and reported here to suggest chronological associations for the two-phase mound.

Special Care Notice This paper discusses trauma and violence inflicted upon the Indigenous peoples of Tasmania through the process of colonisation. Content within this paper may be distressing to some readers. Introduction The decimation of the First Peoples of Van Diemen’s Land (now Tasmania) was systematic and swift. First Contact was an emotionally, intellectually, physically, and spiritually confronting series of encounters for the Indigenous inhabitants. There were, according to some early records, a few examples of peaceful interactions (Morris 84). Yet, the inevitable competition over resources, and the intensity with which colonists pursued their “claims” for food, land, and water, quickly transformed amicable relationships into hostile rivalries. Jennifer Gall has written that, as “European settlement expanded in the late 1820s, violent exchanges between settlers and Aboriginal people were frequent, brutal and unchecked” (58). Indeed, the near-annihilation of the original custodians of the land was, if viewed through the lens of time, a process that could be described as one that was especially efficient. As John Morris notes: in 1803, when the first settlers arrived in Van Diemen’s Land, the Aborigines had already inhabited the island for some 25,000 years and the population has been estimated at 4,000. Seventy-three years later, Truganinni, [often cited as] the last Tasmanian of full Aboriginal descent, was dead. (84) Against a backdrop of extreme violence, often referred to as the Black War (Clements 1), there were some, admittedly dubious, efforts to contain the bloodshed. One such effort, in the late 1820s, was the production, and subsequent distribution, of a set of Proclamation Boards. Approximately 100 Proclamation Boards (the Board) were introduced by the Lieutenant Governor of the day, George Arthur (after whom Port Arthur on the Tasman Peninsula is named). The purpose of these Boards was to communicate, via a four-strip pictogram, to the Indigenous peoples of the island colony that all people—black and white—were considered equal under the law. “British Justice would protect” everyone (Morris 84). This is reflected in the narrative of the Boards. The first image presents Indigenous peoples and colonists living peacefully together. The second, and central, image shows “a conciliatory handshake between the British governor and an Aboriginal ‘chief’, highly reminiscent of images found in North America on treaty medals and anti-slavery tokens” (Darian-Smith and Edmonds 4). The third and fourth images depict the repercussions for committing murder, with an Indigenous man hanged for spearing a colonist and a European man also hanged for shooting an Aborigine. Both men executed under “gubernatorial supervision” (Turnbull 53). Image 1: Governor Davey's [sic - actually Governor Arthur's] Proclamation to the Aborigines, 1816 [sic - actually c. 1828-30]. Image Credit: Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW (Call Number: SAFE / R 247). The Board is an interesting re-imagining of one of the traditional methods of communication for Indigenous peoples; the leaving of images on the bark of trees. Such trees, often referred to as scarred trees, are rare in modern-day Tasmania as “the expansion of settlements, and the impact of bush fires and other environmental factors” resulted in many of these trees being destroyed (Aboriginal Heritage Tasmania online). Similarly, only a few of the Boards, inspired by these trees, survive today. The Proclamation Board was, in the 1860s, re-imagined as the output of a different Governor: Lieutenant Governor Davey (after whom Port Davey, on the south-west coast of Tasmania is named). This re-imagining of the Board’s creator was so effective that the Board, today, is popularly known as Governor Davey’s Proclamation to the Aborigines. This paper outlines several other re-imaginings of this Board. In addition, this paper offers another, new, re-imagining of the Board, positing that this is an early “pamphlet” on crime, justice and punishment which actually presents as a pre-cursor to the modern Australian true crime tale. In doing so this work connects the Proclamation Board to the larger genre of crime fiction. One Proclamation Board: Two Governors Labelled Van Diemen’s Land and settled as a colony of New South Wales in 1803, this island state would secede from the administration of mainland Australia in 1825. Another change would follow in 1856 when Van Diemen’s Land was, in another process of re-imagining, officially re-named Tasmania. This change in nomenclature was an initiative to, symbolically at least, separate the contemporary state from a criminal and violent past (Newman online). Tasmania’s violent history was, perhaps, inevitable. The island was claimed by Philip Gidley King, the Governor of New South Wales, in the name of His Majesty, not for the purpose of building a community, but to “prevent the French from gaining a footing on the east side of that island” and also to procure “timber and other natural products, as well as to raise grain and to promote the seal industry” (Clark 36). Another rationale for this land claim was to “divide the convicts” (Clark 36) which re-fashioned the island into a gaol. It was this penal element of the British colonisation of Australia that saw the worst of the British Empire forced upon the Aboriginal peoples. As historian Clive Turnbull explains: the brutish state of England was reproduced in the English colonies, and that in many ways its brutishness was increased, for now there came to Australia not the humanitarians or the indifferent, but the men who had vested interests in the systems of restraint; among those who suffered restraint were not only a vast number who were merely unfortunate and poverty-stricken—the victims of a ‘depression’—but brutalised persons, child-slaughterers and even potential cannibals. (Turnbull 25) As noted above the Black War of Tasmania saw unprecedented aggression against the rightful occupants of the land. Yet, the Aboriginal peoples were “promised the white man’s justice, the people [were] exhorted to live in amity with them, the wrongs which they suffer [were] deplored” (Turnbull 23). The administrators purported an egalitarian society, one of integration and peace but Van Diemen’s Land was colonised as a prison and as a place of profit. So, “like many apologists whose material benefit is bound up with the systems which they defend” (Turnbull 23), assertions of care for the health and welfare of the Aboriginal peoples were made but were not supported by sufficient policies, or sufficient will, and the Black War continued. Colonel Thomas Davey (1758-1823) was the second person to serve as Lieutenant Governor of Van Diemen’s Land; a term of office that began in 1813 and concluded in 1817. The fourth Lieutenant Governor of the island was Colonel Sir George Arthur (1784-1854); his term of office, significantly longer than Davey’s, being from 1824 to 1836. The two men were very different but are connected through this intriguing artefact, the Proclamation Board. One of the efforts made to assert the principle of equality under the law in Van Diemen’s Land was an outcome of work undertaken by Surveyor General George Frankland (1800-1838). Frankland wrote to Arthur in early 1829 and suggested the Proclamation Board (Morris 84), sometimes referred to as a Picture Board or the Tasmanian Hieroglyphics, as a tool to support Arthur’s various Proclamations. The Proclamation, signed on 15 April 1828 and promulgated in the The Hobart Town Courier on 19 April 1828 (Arthur 1), was one of several notices attempting to reduce the increasing levels of violence between Indigenous peoples and colonists. The date on Frankland’s correspondence clearly situates the Proclamation Board within Arthur’s tenure as Lieutenant Governor. The Board was, however, in the 1860s, re-imagined as the output of Davey. The Clerk of the Tasmanian House of Assembly, Hugh M. Hull, asserted that the Board was the work of Davey and not Arthur. Hull’s rationale for this, despite archival evidence connecting the Board to Frankland and, by extension, to Arthur, is predominantly anecdotal. In a letter to the editor of The Hobart Mercury, published 26 November 1874, Hull wrote: this curiosity was shown by me to the late Mrs Bateman, neé Pitt, a lady who arrived here in 1804, and with whom I went to school in 1822. She at once recognised it as one of a number prepared in 1816, under Governor Davey’s orders; and said she had seen one hanging on a gum tree at Cottage Green—now Battery Point. (3) Hull went on to assert that “if any old gentleman will look at the picture and remember the style of military and civil dress of 1810-15, he will find that Mrs Bateman was right” (3). Interestingly, Hull relies upon the recollections of a deceased school friend and the dress codes depicted by the artist to date the Proclamation Board as a product of 1816, in lieu of documentary evidence dating the Board as a product of 1828-1830. Curiously, the citation of dress can serve to undermine Hull’s argument. An early 1840s watercolour by Thomas Bock, of Mathinna, an Aboriginal child of Flinders Island adopted by Lieutenant Governor John Franklin (Felton online), features the young girl wearing a brightly coloured, high-waisted dress. This dress is very similar to the dresses worn by the children on the Proclamation Board (the difference being that Mathinna wears a red dress with a contrasting waistband, the children on the Board wear plain yellow dresses) (Bock). Acknowledging the simplicity of children's clothing during the colonial era, it could still be argued that it would have been unlikely the Governor of the day would have placed a child, enjoying at that time a life of privilege, in a situation where she sat for a portrait wearing an old-fashioned garment. So effective was Hull’s re-imagining of the Board’s creator that the Board was, for many years, popularly known as Governor Davey’s Proclamation to the Aborigines with even the date modified, to 1816, to fit Davey’s term of office. Further, it is worth noting that catalogue records acknowledge the error of attribution and list both Davey and Arthur as men connected to the creation of the Proclamation Board. A Surviving Board: Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales One of the surviving Proclamation Boards is held by the Mitchell Library. The Boards, oil on Huon pine, were painted by “convict artists incarcerated in the island penal colony” (Carroll 73). The work was mass produced (by the standards of mass production of the day) by pouncing, “a technique [of the Italian Renaissance] of pricking the contours of a drawing with a pin. Charcoal was then dusted on to the drawing” (Carroll 75-76). The images, once outlined, were painted in oil. Of approximately 100 Boards made, several survive today. There are seven known Boards within public collections (Gall 58): five in Australia (Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW, Sydney; Museum Victoria, Melbourne; National Library of Australia, Canberra; Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery, Hobart; and Queen Victoria Museum and Art Gallery, Launceston); and two overseas (The Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University and the Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, University of Cambridge). The catalogue record, for the Board held by the Mitchell Library, offers the following details:Paintings: 1 oil painting on Huon pine board, rectangular in shape with rounded corners and hole at top centre for suspension ; 35.7 x 22.6 x 1 cm. 4 scenes are depicted:Aborigines and white settlers in European dress mingling harmoniouslyAboriginal men and women, and an Aboriginal child approach Governor Arthur to shake hands while peaceful soldiers look onA hostile Aboriginal man spears a male white settler and is hanged by the military as Governor Arthur looks onA hostile white settler shoots an Aboriginal man and is hanged by the military as Governor Arthur looks on. (SAFE / R 247) The Mitchell Library Board was purchased from J.W. Beattie in May 1919 for £30 (Morris 86), which is approximately $2,200 today. Importantly, the title of the record notes both the popular attribution of the Board and the man who actually instigated the Board’s production: “Governor Davey’s [sic – actually Governor Arthur] Proclamation to the Aborigines, 1816 [sic – actually c. 1828-30].” The date of the Board is still a cause of some speculation. The earlier date, 1828, marks the declaration of martial law (Turnbull 94) and 1830 marks the Black Line (Edmonds 215); the attempt to form a human line of white men to force many Tasmanian Aboriginals, four of the nine nations, onto the Tasman Peninsula (Ryan 3). Frankland’s suggestion for the Board was put forward on 4 February 1829, with Arthur’s official Conciliator to the Aborigines, G.A. Robinson, recording his first sighting of a Board on 24 December 1829 (Morris 84-85). Thus, the conception of the Board may have been in 1828 but the Proclamation project was not fully realised until 1830. Indeed, a news item on the Proclamation Board did appear in the popular press, but not until 5 March 1830: We are informed that the Government have given directions for the painting of a large number of pictures to be placed in the bush for the contemplation of the Aboriginal Inhabitants. […] However […] the causes of their hostility must be more deeply probed, or their taste as connoisseurs in paintings more clearly established, ere we can look for any beneficial result from this measure. (Colonial Times 2) The remark made in relation to becoming a connoisseur of painting, though intended to be derogatory, makes some sense. There was an assumption that the Indigenous peoples could easily translate a European-styled execution by hanging, as a visual metaphor for all forms of punishment. It has long been understood that Indigenous “social organisation and religious and ceremonial life were often as complex as those of the white invaders” (McCulloch 261). However, the Proclamation Board was, in every sense, Eurocentric and made no attempt to acknowledge the complexities of Aboriginal culture. It was, quite simply, never going to be an effective tool of communication, nor achieve its socio-legal aims. The Board Re-imagined: Popular Media The re-imagining of the Proclamation Board as a construct of Governor Davey, instead of Governor Arthur, is just one of many re-imaginings of this curious object. There are, of course, the various imaginings of the purpose of the Board. On the surface these images are a tool for reconciliation but as “the story of these paintings unfolds […] it becomes clear that the proclamations were in effect envoys sent back to Britain to exhibit the ingenious attempts being applied to civilise Australia” (Carroll 76). In this way the Board was re-imagined by the Administration that funded the exercise, even before the project was completed, from a mechanism to assist in the bringing about of peace into an object that would impress colonial superiors. Khadija von Zinnenburg Carroll has recently written about the Boards in the context of their “transnational circulation” and how “objects become subjects and speak of their past through the ventriloquism of contemporary art history” (75). Carroll argues the Board is an item that couples “military strategy with a fine arts propaganda campaign” (Carroll 78). Critically the Boards never achieved their advertised purpose for, as Carroll explains, there were “elaborate rituals Aboriginal Australians had for the dead” and, therefore, “the display of a dead, hanging body is unthinkable. […] being exposed to the sight of a hanged man must have been experienced as an unimaginable act of disrespect” (92). The Proclamation Board would, in sharp contrast to feelings of unimaginable disrespect, inspire feelings of pride across the colonial population. An example of this pride being revealed in the selection of the Board as an object worthy of reproduction, as a lithograph, for an Intercolonial Exhibition, held in Melbourne in 1866 (Morris 84). The lithograph, which identifies the Board as Governor Davey’s Proclamation to the Aborigines and dated 1816, was listed as item 572, of 738 items submitted by Tasmania, for the event (The Commissioners 69-85). This type of reproduction, or re-imagining, of the Board would not be an isolated event. Penelope Edmonds has described the Board as producing a “visual vernacular” through a range of derivatives including lantern slides, lithographs, and postcards. These types of tourist ephemera are in addition to efforts to produce unique re-workings of the Board as seen in Violet Mace’s Proclamation glazed earthernware, which includes a jug (1928) and a pottery cup (1934) (Edmonds online). The Board Re-imagined: A True Crime Tale The Proclamation Board offers numerous narratives. There is the story that the Board was designed and deployed to communicate. There is the story behind the Board. There is also the story of the credit for the initiative which was transferred from Governor Arthur to Governor Davey and subsequently returned to Arthur. There are, too, the provenance stories of individual Boards. There is another story the Proclamation Board offers. The story of true crime in colonial Australia. The Board, as noted, presents through a four-strip pictogram an idea that all are equal under the rule of law (Arthur 1). Advocating for a society of equals was a duplicitous practice, for while Aborigines were hanged for allegedly murdering settlers, “there is no record of whites being charged, let alone punished, for murdering Aborigines” (Morris 84). It would not be until 1838 that white men would be punished for the murder of Aboriginal people (on the mainland) in the wake of the Myall Creek Massacre, in northern New South Wales. There were other examples of attempts to bring about a greater equity under the rule of law but, as Amanda Nettelbeck explains, there was wide-spread resistance to the investigation and charging of colonists for crimes against the Indigenous population with cases regularly not going to trial, or, if making a courtroom, resulting in an acquittal (355-59). That such cases rested on “legally inadmissible Aboriginal testimony” (Reece in Nettelbeck 358) propped up a justice system that was, inherently, unjust in the nineteenth century. It is important to note that commentators at the time did allude to the crime narrative of the Board: when in the most civilized country in the world it has been found ineffective as example to hang murderers in chains, it is not to be expected a savage race will be influenced by the milder exhibition of effigy and caricature. (Colonial Times 2) It is argued here that the Board was much more than an offering of effigy and caricature. The Proclamation Board presents, in striking detail, the formula for the modern true crime tale: a peace disturbed by the act of murder; and the ensuing search for, and delivery of, justice. Reinforcing this point, are the ideas of justice seen within crime fiction, a genre that focuses on the restoration of order out of chaos (James 174), are made visible here as aspirational. The true crime tale does not, consistently, offer the reassurances found within crime fiction. In the real world, particularly one as violent as colonial Australia, we are forced to acknowledge that, below the surface of the official rhetoric on justice and crime, the guilty often go free and the innocent are sometimes hanged. Another point of note is that, if the latter date offered here, of 1830, is taken as the official date of the production of these Boards, then the significance of the Proclamation Board as a true crime tale is even more pronounced through a connection to crime fiction (both genres sharing a common literary heritage). The year 1830 marks the release of Australia’s first novel, Quintus Servinton written by convicted forger Henry Savery, a crime novel (produced in three volumes) published by Henry Melville of Hobart Town. Thus, this paper suggests, 1830 can be posited as a year that witnessed the production of two significant cultural artefacts, the Proclamation Board and the nation’s first full-length literary work, as also being the year that established the, now indomitable, traditions of true crime and crime fiction in Australia. Conclusion During the late 1820s in Van Diemen’s Land (now Tasmania) a set of approximately 100 Proclamation Boards were produced by the Lieutenant Governor of the day, George Arthur. The official purpose of these items was to communicate, to the Indigenous peoples of the island colony, that all—black and white—were equal under the law. Murderers, be they Aboriginal or colonist, would be punished. The Board is a re-imagining of one of the traditional methods of communication for Indigenous peoples; the leaving of drawings on the bark of trees. The Board was, in the 1860s, in time for an Intercolonial Exhibition, re-imagined as the output of Lieutenant Governor Davey. This re-imagining of the Board was so effective that surviving artefacts, today, are popularly known as Governor Davey’s Proclamation to the Aborigines with the date modified, to 1816, to fit the new narrative. The Proclamation Board was also reimagined, by its creators and consumers, in a variety of ways: as peace offering; military propaganda; exhibition object; tourism ephemera; and contemporary art. This paper has also, briefly, offered another re-imagining of the Board, positing that this early “pamphlet” on justice and punishment actually presents a pre-cursor to the modern Australian true crime tale. The Proclamation Board tells many stories but, at the core of this curious object, is a crime story: the story of mass murder. Acknowledgements The author acknowledges the Palawa peoples: the traditional custodians of the lands known today as Tasmania. The author acknowledges, too, the Gadigal people of the Eora nation upon whose lands this paper was researched and written. The author extends thanks to Richard Neville, Margot Riley, Kirsten Thorpe, and Justine Wilson of the State Library of New South Wales for sharing their knowledge and offering their support. The author is also grateful to the reviewers for their careful reading of the manuscript and for making valuable suggestions. ReferencesAboriginal Heritage Tasmania. “Scarred Trees.” Aboriginal Cultural Heritage, 2012. 12 Sep. 2015 ‹http://www.aboriginalheritage.tas.gov.au/aboriginal-cultural-heritage/archaeological-site-types/scarred-trees›.Arthur, George. “Proclamation.” The Hobart Town Courier 19 Apr. 1828: 1.———. Governor Davey’s [sic – actually Governor Arthur’s] Proclamation to the Aborigines, 1816 [sic – actually c. 1828-30]. Graphic Materials. Sydney: Mitchell Library, State Library of NSW, c. 1828-30.Bock, Thomas. Mathinna. Watercolour and Gouache on Paper. 23 x 19 cm (oval), c. 1840.Carroll, Khadija von Zinnenburg. 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