To send content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about sending content to .
To send content items to your Kindle, first ensure firstname.lastname@example.org
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about sending to your Kindle.
Note you can select to send to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be sent to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
Chapter 3 continues the narrative arc of Liberated Africans’ journeys from homeland to diaspora. It traces the settlement of “liberated” men, women, and children in the colony, emphasizing the cultural implications of particular settlement policies in operation at different times. Most Liberated Africans were sent to one of twenty-six villages established across the Sierra Leone peninsula in the vicinity of Freetown. The Liberated African registers record settlement for tens of thousands of Liberated Africans, allowing us to trace captives from particular ports and coastlines of embarkation to particular villages in Sierra Leone. This detailed documentation of settlement is unique within the African diaspora and offers insights into the quotidian interactions through which diasporic identities were born. New villages were often formed by a single group of shipmates. In short, the fictive community formed on the Atlantic voyage was made reality in the various villages of the Sierra Leone peninsula. Over time, multiple groups of shipmates increased the size and diversity of these villages. Each Liberated African became an African diaspora in microcosm within the broader context of a prototypical British post-slavery colony.
William H. Williams left behind a wealthy widow, Violet, who soon remarried. Violet Williams Abell navigated the 1862 abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia, applying for compensation for the five bondpeople emancipated under the new law. As administratror of her deceased first husband’s estate, Violet Williams also endured the lingering legal problems associated with the convict slaves purchased from Virginia for transportation outside the country. In 1847, Allison Nailor of Washington, D.C. allegedly purchased an ownership stake in the enslaved convicts whom William H. Williams had carried to New Orleans. He sued the widow Violet Williams Abell to recover his claimed share of the profits from their sale. His case reached the US Supreme Court in 1869, where it was decided against him. The chapter concludes with brief histories of William H. and Violet Williams’ four daughters and their families.
Chapter Four shows how slaveholding elites across jurisdictions responded to the growth of the free population of color during the Age of Revolution with fear and repression. They feared large-scale slave revolts, the rise of abolitionism, and the assertiveness of free people of color. Beginning in the 1830s, and with increasing fervor in the 1840s and 1850s, white slaveholding elites across the Americas sought to crack down on free people of color and manumission. They also looked for ways to remove free people of color from their midst through various “colonization” schemes, to realize the old dream of a perfect, and perfectly dichotomous, social order of blacks and whites, enslaved and free. This chapter explores the growing restrictions on manumission and free people of color in Louisiana and Virginia during the antebellum era, which stand in contrast to the significant but less successful efforts of Cuban slaveholders to limit the rights of free people of color. By 1860, these jurisdictions were on truly divergent paths concerning race and freedom. Black freedom was described as an anomaly or a legal absurdity in Virginia and Louisiana, but not in Cuba.
This chapter offers a new genealogy of Victorian character by tracing the development and influence of two prominent theories of subject formation that emerged out of the application of political economy to distinct forms of settler imperialism. Edward Gibbon Wakefield’s theory of “systematic colonization” posited a stadialist model of spatial organization as the means of replicating British character, while Alexander Maconochie’s “Mark System” for convict reformation was derived from the temporal logic of bourgeois financial discipline. Their contrasting impacts on the novel demonstrate the complexity and depth of the settler empire’s influence on Victorian culture. Wakefield’s prominent theories spurred a general imaginative expansion of British identity beyond Britain, but the impact of Maconochie’s ideas occurred through more intimate networks of influence. After Charles Dickens adopted the Mark System for his ambitious and long-running philanthropic experiment, Urania Cottage, I argue that it came to infuse his conception of character formation in Great Expectations (1861), notably in the portrayal of Pip, its metropolitan protagonist.
After a brief overview of the main developments in the field of World Englishes (WEs) research, particularly with respect to different typologies and models of WEs, as well as advances in methodology, this introductory chapter provides short chapter summaries.
English was transplanted to Africa in three different ways. First, through trade contacts along the African West coast, which occurred from the fifteenth century onward, giving rise to pidgin Englishes in West Africa. Second, native varieties in Africa are spoken by descendants of British settlers and others who shifted to English as their native language. The largest settler population is to be found in South Africa where settlement started in the early nineteenth century, alongside Zimbabwe and Kenya. Resettled slaves in Liberia and Sierra Leone developed their own varieties, giving rise in Sierra Leone to Krio, a creole variety that influenced the preexisting pidgin varieties in West Africa. Third, exploitation colonization from the late nineteenth century led to the development of non-native, indigenized varieties of English. Initially, only a small local elite gained access to high proficiency in mission schools but, after independence from the mid-twentieth century, a massive expansion of the national school education granted access to English-language education for a larger part of the indigenous population, albeit with less proficient teachers providing the input, resulting in lower levels of attainment than among the local elites.
The movement of people and ideas from north to south and the renewal of trade with Egypt instigated a revival of settlement in the Levant, first along the coast and valleys, then in the highlands. Fortified ritual centers become foci of integrated polities with flourishing crafts, marking the high-water mark of second millennium Canaanite culture.
Forty years ago, Knut Fladmark (1979) argued that the Pacific Coast offered a viable alternative to the ice-free corridor model for the initial peopling of the Americas—one of the first to support a “coastal migration theory” that remained marginal for decades. Today, the pre-Clovis occupation at the Monte Verde site is widely accepted, several other pre-Clovis sites are well documented, investigations of terminal Pleistocene subaerial and submerged Pacific Coast landscapes have increased, and multiple lines of evidence are helping decode the nature of early human dispersals into the Americas. Misconceptions remain, however, about the state of knowledge, productivity, and deglaciation chronology of Pleistocene coastlines and possible technological connections around the Pacific Rim. We review current evidence for several significant clusters of early Pacific Coast archaeological sites in North and South America that include sites as old or older than Clovis. We argue that stemmed points, foliate points, and crescents (lunates) found around the Pacific Rim may corroborate genomic studies that support an early Pacific Coast dispersal route into the Americas. Still, much remains to be learned about the Pleistocene colonization of the Americas, and multiple working hypotheses are warranted.
This chapter explores how profoundly German perceptions of itself as a new industrial and aspiring colonial power were shaped by the United States, yet also how those perceptions changed as the United States came to be seen as a potential threat to Germany for the first time. After completing their studies under Gustav Schmoller in the late 1870s and investigating conditions in United States, Max Sering and Henry Farnam published works that shaped perceptions of the American frontier in Germany as a force defusing working class radicalism and as a distinctly colonial land of opportunity and upward mobility, animating German ambitions for overseas settler colonies and contiguous colonies in the Prussian east. Later in the 1890s Hermann Schumacher and Ernst von Halle were exposed to Sering and Schmoller’s teaching at Berlin University, travelling to the United States to investigate industrial trusts, cotton growing, and the American grain market during a time of growing American nativism, protectionism, and trustification.
This chapter analyzes the colonial reforms of Bernhard Dernburg that culminated in the founding of the Hamburg Colonial Institute in 1908, to which Karl Rathgen was appointed. It also explores the disappointments with tropical colonies drawn from the surveys spearheaded by Max Sering, the observations of Hermann Schumacher in Southeast Asia in 1911, and Karl Rathgen’s travels in the American south and Caribbean in 1913. Dernburg successfully pushed investments in railways to better connect the German colonies to the German and world economy, and he set strict limits on white settlers. Even so, ambitions for a German temperate zone settler colony never quite died, even as it would prove elusive. The German colonial gaze did shift eastward to the Russian Empire in these years, which Sering and Schumacher visited in 1912 to inspect “inner colonization” in the Ukraine. They returned impressed with what they saw and committed to improving Russo-German relations, but better relations were increasingly hostage to Foreign Office prejudices and the Balkan rivalries of Austria and Russia.
Scholars have noted that Circe’s instructions to Odysseus illustrate a speech type-scene comprised of directions and then instructions – or ‘map’ and ‘script’: first she tells him (i) how to get to the entrance to Hades and then (ii) what rituals to do and what words to say after he gets there (Od. 10.507–40). This essay argues that the Odyssey poet is, in fact, using the vocabulary and syntax of an important subset of this speech-act: hexametrical oracles, as we see them quoted a few centuries later by Herodotus and parodied by Aristophanes. Her advice, moreover, also echoes closely a specific kind of Archaic oracle that directed Greek colonists to a far-away place and that was typical of the female prophets called ‘Sibyls’, who lived near the Aegean coastline in places where the Homeric poems were originally composed and performed.
This chapter examines the European colonization of Muslim lands. It emphasizes that what made this colonization possible was not simply European military superiority but also the gap between Europeans and Muslims in terms of the levels of economic, technological, and educational development. The chapter explores the belated establishment of printing presses in Muslim societies, which kept literacy rates very low, as well as the ways the ulema hindered the translation of the Quran into vernacular languages, which perpetuated the ulema's religious monopoly. It also analyzes the reform attempts by some Muslim rulers and the new Muslim intellectuals, as well as explaining why these attempts mostly failed.
This chapter begins by examining Muslims’ military, commercial, and intellectual achievements between the seventh and eleventh centuries. At that time, most of Islamic scholars (ulema) were funded by commerce, while only a few of them served the state. The merchants flourished as an influential class. The chapter goes on to analyze the beginning of the intellectual and economic stagnation in Muslim lands in the eleventh century. It explains how, gradually, the ulema became a state-servant class and the military state came to dominate the economy. The alliance between the ulema and the military state diminished the influence of philosophers and merchants. This changing distribution of authority led to the long-term stagnation, if not the decline, of Muslim intellectual and economic life. This gradual process began in the eleventh century and continued for centuries, as subsequent chapters elaborate.
The question of how the 1967 edition of the Dictionary of Canadianisms (DCHP-1) fares from a perspective of decolonization is the focus of this chapter. DCHP-1 is assessed from both a 1960s perspective, for which it was quite modern, and a present-day perspective, where it inevitably falls short. Examples from DCHP-1 include outdated proper names, e.g. Inuit < Eskimo, and the documentation of the terms Indian -- which occurs in 137 compound constructions, including treaty Indian -- and residential school, which is, in gross ignorance of the facts, not properly defined or linguistically marked. DCHP-1 exhibits at least three kinds of colonial bias, which are illustrated with examples. Charles Crate's correspondence with editorial assistant Joan Hall offers a frank view on the effects of colonization in the remote community of Albert Bay, BC, through the eyes of an untrained, but well-meaning non-Indigenous teacher, as Crate was teaching high school in that village while contributing to the dictionary. The chapter, which can merely start to address the issue of decolonization for DCHP-1, concludes with preliminary thoughts on any remnant colonial bias in the current, 2017 edition, to be found at www.dchp.ca/dchp2.
This chapter presents a thorough re-examination of the so-called ‘Great Conversion,’ a period after the Spanish Conquest when millions of natives were baptized. Countering mendicant apologetic narratives that presented the process as a great spiritual turning, and more recent work that has limited itself to critique the apologists, this chapter demonstrates baptism was inextricably related to the social and political repercussions of conquest and demographic crisis. The chapter begins by examining the politics of indigenous adhesion to Christianity in the aftermath of conquest, highlighting the early alliances between rulers and missionaries. The chapter then examines the role of spiritual warfare and iconoclasm in mass-baptisms, which was a by-product of these early alliances. Amidst this violence, however, missionaries also extended a promise to protect indigenous communities from Spanish exploitation and enslavement of the native population. By the mid-1530s large-scale conversions resulted from an emerging consensus in indigenous communities that the mission provided them with a means to preserve their lives, property, and communities. Self-interest, spiritual warfare, and the search for sanctuary all drove this phenomenon. Through the waters of baptism, native communities began the process of remaking Mesoamerica in the 1530s.
This chapter explores the mission’s vital antecedents by employing a transatlantic comparison of the ways in which religion served as a marker of sovereign power, connected violence to theologies of imperialism, and offered sanctuary amid the disruptions of unprecedented transatlantic contacts. Three lines of inquiry form the basis of this chapter. First, I examine religion as an expression of political sovereignty in fifteenth-century Mesoamerica and Iberia. Second, I address the most fundamental differences between Iberia and Mesoamerica. In Iberia, religious exclusivism fuelled a Spanish theological imperialism that sought to extend Catholicism to the exclusion of all competing god and religious institutions, while Mesoamerican empires integrated defeated gods to their pantheon. Part three, meanwhile, examines the way in which unprecedented cycles of encounter, conquest violence, widespread enslavement, and severe demographic crises in the Canaries and the Caribbean also made the mission a sanctuary from the worst depredations of early colonization. The transatlantic roots of the Mexican mission enterprise consist of three interconnected but also contradicting elements: religion as an expression of political sovereignty, as a basis for repression and violence, and as a promise of protection.
During the century of massive expansion of the Qin state in China (ca. 316–222 BCE), and the subsequent fifteen years of the empire (221–207 BCE), it is recorded that millions of persons were forcibly relocated and resettled throughout the empire and along its frontiers. For example, the historian Sima Qian (ca. 145–86 BCE) states that in just the years between 213 and 210 BCE, the First Emperor relocated more than a million people from interior counties of the empire to settle newly-conquered lands on the northern and southern frontiers. Yet this was only one type of forced resettlement carried out by the Qin. The Qin state also relocated thousands of aristocratic households from conquered states to the Qin capital of Xianyang, captured large numbers of non-Chinese peoples and assigned them to localities as slaves to open up agricultural land, exiled wealthy iron industrialists from the interior to the periphery, intentionally expelled the entire populations of conquered cities to replace them with amnestied criminals, and pooled and redirected the labor of convicts gathered from throughout the empire to labor on huge projects such as the First Emperor's tomb. This article seeks to analyze and categorize these various Qin forced resettlements to uncover the ideological and policy motivations behind them and the role they played in the larger project of Qin imperial expansion and colonization.