English overseas colonialism is generally traced to the anti-Catholic and anti-Spanish ideologies of Richard Hakluyt, Humphrey Gilbert, and other exponents in the 1570s and 1580s. This article puts Florida at the forefront of English colonialism by taking seriously Thomas Stukeley's proposed colonisation expedition in 1563. The focus on the 1560s reveals how a dynastic rivalry with France, rather than a religious rivalry with Spain, gave birth to England's first colonial impulse. Jean Ribault, well known as the founder of French Florida, serves as the connecting link between Florida and England. His previously unappreciated role in European diplomacy unwittingly turned his fledgling colony into a pawn to be traded among France, Spain, and England. Furthermore, Queen Elizabeth's interest in joining the race for colonies may have been fuelled more by her desire to regain Calais from the French than to plant settlers in America. But while her motives may well have been cynical, the English public for the first time began to see itself as a colonising people. The end result was that Florida not only emerged as part of the fountainhead of English colonialism, but also came to play an important role in European politics.

This paper explores the Danish East India Company's slave trade practice in Tranquebar in the first half of the seventeenth century. In particular it focuses on a practice of acquiring black Morianer (Moors) as prestigious servants for aristocratic homes. The court of the Danish king Christian IV was familiar with the exotic inlay of Morians as represented in pictures, theatre, carrousels, and other artistic manifestations of the upper classes of that time. In this sense, I suggest that Hans Hansson Skonning's Geographia historica Orientalis (1641) provides seminal clues about ideology justifying slavery and representations of Africa and Asia in Scandinavian countries before they entered the slave trade.

The third volume of Dutch Sources on South Asia mentions that there are some late-eighteenth-century Marathi letters, written in the Modi script, preserved in the National Archives of the Republic of Indonesia.1 Scanned copies of the same were obtained by Lennart Bes (Leiden University) with the kind permission of the Indonesia Archives. Using these scanned copies, this paper gives the complete Roman transliteration of the two letters as well as their translation, and contextualizes the letters within Maratha documentary practices as well as within the contemporary political scene of the late-eighteenth-century Coromandel Coast. In addition, this article provides a commentary on the Maratha perception of Europeans in general and of the Dutch in particular, arguing that the Marathas had an unusually positive opinion about the trade-oriented Dutch, especially when contrasted with the territorially ambitious English and the Portuguese.

This article is a response to Sebastian Prange's essay in Itinerario 41, no. 1 (2017): 151–173 wherein he presented a ‘virtually unknown manuscript’ on the Portuguese arrival in India as an Indian voice, unheard in the existing historiography. Prange had consulted the English translation of a Malayalam text by John Wye, that the former had assumed to be lost. However its original palm-leaf manuscript (ōla) is kept at the British Library. This ōla, entitled Kēraḷa Varttamānam, brings to light some remarkable omissions and a few discrepancies in Wye's translation. Closely reading different manuscripts in Malayalam, Arabic, and English I argue that this ōla is in fact a translation of a sixteenth-century Arabic text, Tuḥfat al-mujāhidīn, well known among scholars of its place and period. Taking it a step ahead, I argue that the very existence of this text points towards the cross-cultural and cross-linguistic interactions between the Arabic and Malayalam spheres of premodern Malabar. The ōla demonstrates one of the first instances of Malayalam literature's engagement with a secular and historical theme as the arrival of the Portuguese. In addition, Malayalam works such as Kēraḷōlpatti and Kēraḷa-paḻama are clear voices from Malabar on the Portuguese arrival and consequent episodes.

This article deals with Malay letters and documents from the archives of the Dutch East India Company (Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie—VOC), dating to the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The collection of “golden” Malay letters, which belonged to the governor- general of the VOC in Java (1704–1709) Joan van Hoorn, made a long voyage on the ship Sandenburg from Batavia to Cape Town and Amsterdam in 1710. Its cultural and historical value was firstly estimated by the outstanding Russian scholar and antiquarian N. P. Likhachev, who purchased it for the Paleographical Museum in Petrograd (St. Petersburg) in 1910. The pages of the fifty-seven diplomatic letters cover one of the most controversial periods of VOC history on the Archipelago, 1683 to 1710, the establishment of its relationships with local nobility and states. The collection represents the original letters of the sultans of Palembang, Gowa, Buton, Bone, Tallo, Banten, and Cirebon, and of prominent historical figures of Malay states as well as the famous Indian merchant from Surat, Abdul Ghafur. They are written in Malay (in Arabic graphic: Jawi and Pegon), Arabic, Javanese (in two scripts: Pegon and Carakan), Dutch, Spanish, Persian, and Chinese. Their investigation will contribute to the academic scholarship on the famous records, reconstructing the history of the Dutch East India Company (VOC) on the Malay Archipelago, and on the peculiarities of Malay letter writing in different languages, scripts, and regions.

This article looks at ways in which Swedish travel to Asia informed the classification of man in the work of Carl Linnaeus. In the tenth edition of his Systema Naturae (1758), Linnaeus made substantial changes to his earlier taxonomy of humans. Through two case studies, it is argued that these changes to a great extent were prompted by fresh Swedish eyewitness reports from China and Southeast Asia. The informants for the Homo asiaticus, a variety of Homo sapiens, and a proposed new species of humans, Homo nocturnus (or troglodytes), were all associated with the Swedish East India Company. The botanical contribution by men trained in the Linnaean method travelling on the company's ships has long been acknowledged. In contrast to the systematic collecting of botanical material, Swedish descriptions of Asia's human inhabitants were often inconclusive, reflecting the circumstances of the trade encounter. Linnaeus also relied on older observations made by countrymen, and his human taxonomies also highlight the role of travel literature in eighteenth-century anthropology.

This article takes a fresh approach to Walter Ralegh's published account of his voyage to Guiana, The Discoverie of the Large, Rich, and Bewtiful Empyre of Guiana (1596), using it as a case study through which to explore the fragility of sixteenth-century processes of knowledge production about new lands. The article revisits this famous account in order to scrutinise in more detail the types of evidence Ralegh used to support his claims that a rich and powerful empire lay ready to be conquered by the English in the Amazon. This new analysis of Ralegh's narrative highlights the continued centrality of reputational models of authority in early modern travel literature and examines the types of evidence that could be employed by writers to support their suppositions when witness testimony was lacking. Ralegh's narrative illustrates that systems of knowledge production centred on the New World were, at the end of the sixteenth century, still in a state of flux. New ideas about what constituted credible knowledge, from firsthand experience to the collection of material artefacts, competed with older frameworks of authentication and authority. By examining knowledge production in frustration, and by dissecting Ralegh's failure to present a believable vision of El Dorado, this article throws into starker relief the many pitfalls and difficulties that beset those who attempted to present new and credible knowledge about the New World.

While this special issue raises a significant number of questions, constraints have dictated that only some of these questions are actually answered. The pioneering work presented consequently remains a modest attempt to initiate a more general discussion about the causes and the social and economic consequences of business failure in the early modern period, particularly with regard to colonial enterprises.

This article recounts the worldwide search for timber undertaken by the Navy Board, the administrative body under the authority of the Admiralty responsible for the supply of naval stores and the construction and repair of ships during the Napoleonic Wars. The closure of the Baltic by France and its European allies is considered the main factor in making British North America a timber colony. Yet the process through which the forests of the Laurentian Plateau and the North Appalachians came to fuel the dockyards of England and Scotland is taken for granted. To acquire this commodity, through merchants, diplomats, and commissioned agents, the power of the British state reached globally, reshaped ecological relationships, and integrated new landscapes to the Imperial economy. Many alternatives to the Baltic were indeed considered and tentatively exploited. Only a mixture of contingency, political factors, and environmental constraints forced the Board to contract in Lower Canada and New Brunswick rather than in areas such as the Western Cape, the Brazilian coast, or Bombay's hinterland.

In 2009, Greenland obtained self-government, terminating Danish supremacy, which had taken many forms over the centuries. This article analyses significant moments in Greenlandic-Danish relations by unpacking distinct contact zones that have emerged through the many encounters between locals and newcomers. Contact zones are always emplaced and create their own logic, which is not always easily readable as “colonialism” in the sense of appropriating lands and extracting surplus. While wrongs may have been perpetrated and ill-informed actions towards the inhabitants taken, relations between Greenland and Denmark illustrate how “colonialism” is neither uniform nor scalable. The analytical focus on colonial moments stresses the nonlinearity of colonial relations and allows for a subtler understanding of the postcolonial remains.

Among the solutions devised by early modern Western European states to engage with the private sector in the governance of their overseas empires, the adjudication of revenue farms and colonial monopolies was often dismissed by historians on the grounds of being coercive, inefficient, and risk-exempt for the contractors. In reality, however, the threat of financial hardship and insolvency was very real, and not infrequently led to contractual removal, the seizure of collateralized assets, and even the imprisonment of the concessionaires.

This article approaches the neglected topic of failure in big business in early seventeenth-century Portugal, an overlooked case of a contractor state that relied extensively on the adjudication of government contracts to finance and rule its overseas empire. By looking into the downward trajectories of two tax-farmers and the collapse of their contractual dealings, light will be shed on how the Crown and private entrepreneurs reacted to the repercussions of failure in these early modern public-private partnerships. It will also be shown how the road leading to termination was very much shaped by the political relationships between the Crown and its contractors and can only be understood in the context of wider relationships of brokerage, credit, and service between the two.

The interconnectedness of Atlantic West Africa and the Scandinavian Atlantic in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries exemplifies an entangled or shared history (histoire croisée). The present article maintains that in the context of the brutal transatlantic chattel trade this history manifests different historical trajectories as well as the temporality of episodic events and structural duration that are configured in the divergent itineraries of two eighteenth-century African Christians. Their texts and life histories reveal them as purveyors of intertwined Christian and non-Christian cultural codes and discursive fields, in one case according to a plantation-colony itinerary and in the other according to a world-port itinerary. The complex social realities of multiple texts and material cultures did not operate independently of socioeconomic structures intertwined with Atlantic world circuits.

Motivated by both science and empire, European explorers increasingly ventured into the high Himalaya after 1800, where they encountered the insidious yet little understood effects of altitude sickness. They did not, however, do so alone. Tensions arising from the highly unpredictable distribution of symptoms were exacerbated by explorers’ dependence on pre-existing networks of labour and expertise, which forced them to measure their bodies against those of their Asian companions. This article examines altitude physiology in the early nineteenth century, largely overlooked by scholars in favour of the more systematic scientific studies of the later period. I consider engagement with indigenous explanations (resulting from poisonous miasmas from plants), the tropes travellers used in their accounts to avoid inverting hierarchies around bodily performance, and attempts to quantify symptoms and instrumentalise bodies by measuring pulses. I argue that high mountains became spaces of comparison, intensified by uncertainty over the scientific status of altitude sickness, and use this to bring into focus the practical, everyday aspects of relationships between explorers, guides, and porters. By considering comparisons at multiple scales, this article also historicises the formulation of high mountain medical topographies in the context of upland frontiers and imperial expansion.

This study seeks to make an original contribution to the historiography of Africa and the Second World War. It examines the efforts of the Nigerian government and the British Army towards the welfare and comforts of Nigerian soldiers during their overseas services from 1940 to 1947. Their deployments in East Africa, the Middle East, and Southeast Asia had brought the issue of their morale maintenance, namely comforts and welfare, to the fore. Extant Nigerian studies of the Second World War have been concerned with Nigerian contributions to Allied victory in terms of diverse economic exertions and those guided by charity towards Europeans affected by the German blitzkrieg, particularly in Britain. Consequently, this paper explains the genesis, objectives, and policy directions of the Nigerian Forces Comforts Fund and its impact on Nigerian servicemen's comforts and welfare. The study posits the argument that constant disagreements and indeed struggles for supremacy between the military and the civil power adversely affected troops’ comforts and welfare. Delayed postwar repatriation of the idle and bored troops to West Africa, in breach of openly proclaimed wartime promises, bred anxiety and made them prone to mutiny. The end of demobilisation in 1947 left many disgruntled ex-servicemen applying for reenlistment.

The Dutch West India Company (WIC), founded in 1621, was, in the words of the States General, “disbanded and destroyed” in September 1674 due to bankruptcy. In its stead, a second West India Company was founded, with a charter largely taken over from the first. This article explores how the dissolution of the first company and the conflicting interests of stockholders, bondholders, and company directors were managed. As it turns out, the old company was not actually liquidated; instead, its assets were simply handed over to the successor company, while an intricate financial construction was devised to take care of the debt burden and to capitalize the new company. The reasons for this unusual arrangement must be sought in the company's great political, and particularly geopolitical, importance. Since the Dutch state was unwilling and unable to handle colonial governance and defence itself, it needed a placeholder in the form of a chartered company. However, the bankruptcy of the WIC, coming at the time it did, had major consequences for the shape of the Dutch Atlantic of the eighteenth century.

In the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, officers of the Danish West India and Guinea Company struggled to balance the sovereignty of the company with the mastery of St. Thomas’ and St. John's slave owners. This struggle was central to the making of the laws that controlled enslaved Africans and their descendants. Slave laws described slave crime and punishment, yet they also contained descriptions of the political entities that had the power to represent and execute the law. Succeeding governors of St. Thomas and St. John set out to align claims about state sovereignty with masters’ prerogatives, and this balancing act shaped the substance of slave law in the Danish West Indies. Indeed, the slave laws pronounced by and the legal thinking engaged in by island governors suggest that sovereignty was never a stable state of affairs in the Danish West Indies. It was always open to renegotiation as governors, with varying degrees of loyalty to the company and at times with questionable capability, strove to determine what sovereignty ought to look like in a time of slavery.

Although French chartered companies operating on the west coast of Africa and in India followed a similar model of organization, their liquidation processes differed depending of the area of their monopoly. As well as exploring the reasons for the distinction between these two regions of exclusive trade, this article demonstrates that the differing liquidation processes negatively impacted company shareholders in the two regions. Taking the perspective of shareholders farther, it explores the case of a specific investor and the informal economic profits he benefitted from. This approach contributes to deepening our understanding of the French early modern companies’ bankruptcies by examining informal aspects that would not be readily visible from an exclusively institutional point of view.