No library is richer in its field of concentration (the former Dutch East and West Indies) than that of the Royal Institute of Linguistics and Anthropology (the K.I.T.L.V.). Any listing of its contents accumulated over the past 175 years, serves as a useful general bibliography for historians as well as anthropologists and linguists. Between 1971 and 1975, the Institute's documentalist, G.A. Nagelkerke, prepared five of those, all of them published by the Institute at Stationsplein 10, Leiden, and still available through it. (Prices are quoted without postage).

In 1923, three young single western women—Margaret Read, Iris Wingate, and Eleanor Rivett—made an adventurous summer trip riding and trekking from Kalimpong in West Bengal, right up to Sikkim. Read and Wingate, both wearing riding breeches and with hair bobbed, were somewhat more adventurous, continuing their trip to Tibet. This was a holiday from their work in Kolkata (formerly Calcutta), the great cosmopolitan city of the British Raj in India. Surely these independent and mobile women were reminiscent of “the Modern Girl” that has been “singled out as a marker of ‘modernity’”. However, these women were not in the sites where “the Modern Girl” has hitherto been located, for they were working in the Christian missionary movement in India. Eleanor Rivett, an Australian and the oldest in the trio, was principal of United Missionary Girls High School (UMGHS) while Iris Wingate and Margaret Read, both British, were working with the Young Women's Christian Association (YWCA) in Kolkata.

The German presence in nineteenth-century South Australia is associated primarily with the immigration of Prussian Lutherans escaping religious persecution in their homeland. Their settlement in the fledgling British colony aided its early, stuttering development; in the longer term it also fitted neatly South Australia's perception of itself as a “paradise of dissent.” These Germans took their religion seriously, none more so than the Lutheran missionaries who committed themselves to bringing the Gospel to the indigenous people of the Adelaide plains and, eventually, much further afield as well. In reality, however, the story of the German contribution to the history of this British colony extended far beyond these pious Lutherans. Among those who followed in their wake, whether as settlers or travellers, were Germans of many different backgrounds, who made their way to the Antipodes for a multitude of reasons. In South Australia as much as anywhere, globalising Germany was a multi-facetted project.

The intellectual gamut of Germans in South Australia is nowhere more evident than in the realm of anthropology. The missionaries were not alone in displaying a keen interest in the Australian Aborigines. Anthropologists steeped in the empirical tradition that came to dominate the nascent discipline at the end of the nineteenth century also turned their attention to Australia. Indeed, in Germany and elsewhere, Australia occupied a special position in international discourse. The American anthropologist Lewis Henry Morgan had observed in 1880 that Australian aboriginal societies “now represent the condition of mankind in savagery better than it is elsewhere represented on the earth—a condition now rapidly passing away.”

This article argues that while immigration exclusions of those considered undesirable were clearly set out by legislation, the subjectivity of the immigration officer was an important aspect of implementation. Drawing on the diaries and personal letters of the officer based at Cape Town, the article focuses on his emotions as he went about his daily life and moved between different intimate city spaces – home, church, docks and office. Bringing together his social world with his world of work, the article argues that what the immigration officer considered desirable in his personal life influenced how he conducted his work at the port.

This article explores the effects of music education carried out by Protestant missionaries on local forms of sociability in sub-Saharan Africa during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Based on a methodological framework of ideal types of musical communities, the examination focuses on examples of musical encounters between missionaries and the Yoruba in West Africa, the Lobedu in South Africa, and the Nyakyusa in East Africa. A closer look at the kinds of sociability facilitated by missionary music will reveal a colonial dialectic emerging from the contrasting forces of cultural hierarchy and belonging.

By weaving the political economy of the Portuguese empire into business history, this article highlights the role of metropolitan and colonial tax farming in the rise and fall of an elite that dominated the business scene in both mainland Portugal and colonial Brazil between roughly 1730 and 1760. It takes the Torres family business as a case study and argues that, while tax farming undoubtedly represented an opportunity to accumulate private wealth, it was also a risky business. Adding to the irregularity of fiscal income, tax farming imposed strict rules on tax farmers, deriving from the legal framework for public finance, while the Crown's policy of seeking to maximize revenue through competitive bidding also increased the risks to which they were exposed. While being highly concentrated on tax farming in Portugal and the South Atlantic empire allowed the Torres family business to amass extraordinary wealth, it also proportionately increased the firm's exposure to those risks, which were then further compounded by a succession problem that eventually led to its demise.

This article examines the illustrated pamphlet Ongeluckige voyagie, van’t schip Batavia (Unlucky voyage of the ship Batavia) and its representation of a 1629 shipwreck off the coast of western Australia, followed by mutiny and the massacre of many survivors. The pamphlet was published in Amsterdam in 1647, and included fifteen (six full-page) fine copper engravings. It was very popular, helping to shape a new genre of shipwreck narrative and expressing the preoccupations of contemporary visual culture. The pamphlet’s illustrations translated new conceptualisations of space emerging from the period’s unique collaboration between cartography and art into popular form within a booming Dutch print culture. Through innovative techniques of montage and vignette these engraved images conveyed the narrative’s drama and affirmed principles of morality, honour, and order. While the era’s spectacular violence now seems very far away, these historical images effectively communicate the contemporary relish of the disaster to modern audiences. This “earliest of Australian books” is sometimes offered as an alternative Australian foundation myth, and the Batavia disaster continues to grow in cultural significance. Now as then, these illustrations provide a vivid counterpoint to its audience’s comfortable lives.

This article uses the 1898 manslaughter trial of two Indian medical practitioners in Victoria, Australia, as a lens to explore the settler colonial politics of medicine. Whereas imperial and colonial historians have long recognised the close and complex interrelationship of medicine and race, the emotional dimensions to care-giving have been under-appreciated – as has the place of the emotions within wider histories of sickness and health. Yet, this case studies shows, grief, vulnerability, catharsis and pride shaped the practice of medicine in fin-de-siecle Victoria. In particular, I argue that, like other emotions, grief does racial work.