By Article 17 of the Treaty of Uccialli, the Italian Government did not intend to establish a protectorate over Ethiopia, but only to preponderate among all the other Nations by obliging Menelik to use the Italian channel as portalettere (postman); even so, Antonelli was authorized to modify or even to suppress this article. When Antonelli discussed the matter with Menelik, the latter refused to accept an obligation; both negotiators agreed that the text of the Article should reflect only an option. This agreement was correctly transcribed in the Amharic text, but not in the Italian one. Antonelli, giving more weight to oral than to written understandings, left unchanged the original wording of the draft he had brought from Rome, i.e. consente (Menelik binds himself to use Italy as postman).

Against the opinion of Antonelli, Crispi decided to take advantage of Article 17, using the opportunity created by the General Act of Berlin, 1885. In October 1889 he notified the Article to the signatories of the said Act, in spite of the fact that Ethiopia was not on the African coast and that Article 17 was not a formula on which a protectorate could be based. The acknowledgement of such a notification gave birth to the Italian protectorate. It was at this moment that the imbroglio was created, by Crispi and not by Antonelli.

The History of Dahomey, written by Archibald Dalzel in 1793, has been used extensively as a source for Dahomean history. This article shows that the book is a polemic written in order to counter the charges of the British anti-slave trade movement and to prevent any further Parliamentary action being taken against the trade.

In the last few years, our understanding of police forces in Africa has increased significantly. Whilst in previous literature the police tended to be presented as a mere instrument in the hands of state elites, recent studies have shown the ability of policemen to defend their group interests. This article analyses a pivotal moment in the history of French West Africa, namely the creation of the Service de Sûreté in the early 1930s. Drawing on archival evidence from Togo, it takes a close look at the shift from military to urban policing, arguing that the bureaucratization of security modified the agency of African policemen. Whereas previously their forms of protest were very much connected with the specific setting of military camps (indiscipline, desertion, rebellion), these now increasingly included written protests within the administration.

This article deals with the reaction of the Colonial Office to the problems—commercial and military—posed for the Gambia by the outbreak of the First World War. It argues that in the Colonial Office discussions about these problems two distinctly different attitudes can be distinguished. The younger junior officials tended to advocate government intervention to ameliorate specific economic problems, while the political heads and senior officials remained firmly attached to the dogmas of laissez faire. Conversely, the former group did not share the doubts of the latter as to whether the dogmas of patriotic bravery should be made to apply to African natives.

The subject-matter—the dislocation of commerce consequent upon French failure to purchase her usual share of the groundnut crop, the ensuing financial difficulties of the Gambia government, defence problems revealed after the mis-identification of H.M.S. Highflyer—is based on material from the Colonial Office archives.

This article deals in detail with the various factors which affect the accuracy of radiocarbon dates. The familiar “error term” associated with each date and which caused so much confusion to users of radiocarbon dates in the early days of the method is derived from the statistical uncertainties of the measurements of radioactivity from which the date is calculated and is the only source of error which is capable of strict mathematical treatment. Other sources of error, as for example wrong attribution of the sample or human error in labelling, can be disastrously large on occasion, although they can usually be kept quite small. Errors arising from the effects of isotopic fractionation can be eliminated by the application of corrections based on mass spectrometric measurements of the stable carbon isotopes in the sample. However, it is now known that the most serious limitation on the accuracy obtainable by the radiocarbon method is set by the fact that the level of radiocarbon in the carbon exchange reservoir has not been constant in the past. Despite this limitation, however, the method is still the most important scientific aid to archaeological research to emerge since the end of World War II.

The Dutch share in the Atlantic slave trade has been assessed largely by means of speculation. This article relies extensively on documents of the Dutch West Indian Companies (WIC), which maintained a dozen or more trading stations on the Guinea Coast, and became the principal agents of the Dutch slaving activities. For approximately 16 years (1630–1795), the Dutch played a substantial role in the Atlantic slave trade. Based on the combined criteria of available documentary evidence and fluctuating techniques of the trade, the Dutch slave trade has been outlined in three successive stages, viz. the monopoly of the first WIC (1630–74), the monopoly of the second WIC (1675–1734), and the free trade period (1735–95). Information on the first period is scarce, leaving much to speculation, but for the years after 1675 a reliable assessment is possible.

On the whole, the Dutch share constituted about 10 per cent of the overall Atlantic slave trade. Annual averages (calculated by decades) ranged from less than a thousand to over 6,000 slaves. During selected years in the 1630s and 1640s, the Dutch may have become the single most active slave trading nation, but toward the end of the seventeenth century the Dutch trade stagnated while other nations drastically increased their volume. When the WIC began to relinquish its monopoly of the slave trade (1730), the volume of the Dutch trade increased until it reached its peak during the 1760s and early 1770s. As a result of the American Revolutionary War and the ensuing Anglo-Dutch war, Holland's participation in the slave trade virtually came to a halt. Feeble efforts to revivie the trade in subsequent decades failed as a result of the unstable political situation in Europe following the revolution in France and also due to the movement to suppress the slave trade.

This article contributes to the critique of a particular historiographical construction of the rural socio-intellectual world of the Afrikaner, which portrays that world as narrowly Calvinist and culturally circumscribed, with rigidly patrolled racial borders. This challenge is effected through an investigation into the world of the Bushveld Boer through the work of Eugène Marais (1871–1936) and Christiaan Frederick Louis Leipoldt (1880–1947). The article seeks to show that the practical workings of agrarian race relations allowed for a certain measure of cultural osmosis, facilitating Afrikaner interest in African and traditional healing practices. Afrikaner interest in the paranormal and psychic, with an emphasis on European trends, is also investigated, to demonstrate that the image of intellectual isolation has been exaggerated. This is a contribution to the ongoing project of historians interested in Afrikaner identity, who probe the image of a monolithic, Calvinist past and stress variety and often secular thinking.

A major component of the South African War, the imperialist conflict that gave birth to modern South Africa, was the violence that occurred between white settlers and indigenous black populations. This article seeks to understand the particular nature of this violence in the northern districts of the Cape Colony. The war intruded into a region in which memories of conquest were alive, and where recently established settler authority was extremely fragile. Here, the war has to be seen as the final chapter in the closing of a nineteenth-century colonial frontier. The conflict was one between masters and servants in a region where capitalist relations of production had yet to take hold. Conflict continued in the years immediately after the war, and an essential task of the post-war state was to calm disgruntled black subjects.

This article examines the history of energy use in colonial Senegal from 1885 to 1945, and it considers how African populations and French colonial officials built a colonial energy economy through overlapping and competing infrastructures of local and imported fuels, labor, and networks of transportation. As the colonial state constructed a new system of infrastructure, from railways and roads to trains and trucks, the French extended their reach into the interior and increased the production of cash crops. At the same time, peasant farmers, migrant workers, and urban merchants incorporated colonial infrastructures into their own regimes of energy use while also fashioning an infrastructure of locally produced fuels. Through the entanglement of local and colonial infrastructures and labor, as well as the appropriation of various forms of technology, Africans and their colonizers forged a hybrid colonial energy economy — not organic, not industrial — specific to the context of colonialism.

Continuing the discussion of issues relating to Africa that arise from research into the volume of the Atlantic slave trade, this comment pursues three points raised by Paul Lovejoy's recent update in the Journal of African History (December 1989). An independent count of the data in the Mettas-Daget catalogue of French slaving ships and a careful assessment of its possible incompleteness makes it unlikely that upward adjustment greater than 12 per cent can be justified, giving an overall total for French exports from Africa of 1,125,000 for the period 1700–1810. Analysis of other research reconfirms the conventional estimate of two males carried abroad for every female slave. Finally, formal supply-demand theory interprets lower export prices for slaves in the nineteenth century as implying that internal African demand for slave labor did not fully replace demand from the Atlantic, thus modifying Lovejoy's linkage of a ‘transformation’ toward increased use of slaves to economic changes outside Africa; the reasons for possible increased use of slaves in nineteenth-century Africa must therefore lie within the continent.

The urban townships of South Africa have been contested terrain since their inception. Different groups have struggled to control territory, various resources and political activities within the confines of the locations and, all too frequently, violence has been an integral part of these struggles. Groups as varied in composition and ideology as squatter movements, well-organized criminal outfits, student groups, vigilantes, traditional courts (makgotlas), migrant gangs, youth gangs, municipal political groups and national political movements – with much overlapping between these categories – have all at one time or another sought to impose their will on township residents and have regarded violence as an essential element in their campaigns.

While much attention has been deservedly devoted to the violence employed by the state as a means of subjugating, dividing and controlling township residents, the different ways in which black urban groups struggled to assert control over their environments have received relatively little scrutiny. These processes cannot be regarded in isolation from the state's quest for control, but neither should they be subsumed by the larger focus on a revolutionary struggle. Rather, I would argue that a more informed understanding of the conditions and challenges faced by black urbanites requires study of the nature of localized power and violence within the townships. African groups pursued agendas which served their own interests and had a considerable impact on social relations and perceptions of power and authority, both within the locations and in the broader context of national/racial politics.

Mitchell maintained that the relationship between the Protectorate Government of Uganda and the Native Government of Buganda was that of protected rule rather than of indirect rule. In order to implement his policy of protected rule, he planned a reorganization in Buganda, involving the substitution of a Resident for a Provincial Commissioner and the withdrawal of district officers to the centre, where the Resident and his staff would offer advice to the Kabaka. Mitchell did not envisage that the Protectorate Government's influence would thereby be weakened, since he assumed that the Kabaka would be obliged to follow advice which was given to him. Under the Agreement of 1900, however, the Kabaka was specifically required to act upon such advice only in the case of the implementation of Lukiiko resolutions. Relations between the Kabaka and both the Protectorate Government and his own Ministers steadily deteriorated during Mitchell's governorship, and the deposition of the Kabaka was even considered. For these reasons, Mitchell proceeded cautiously with his reorganization and it was left to his successor, Dundas, to complete it. Owing largely to the restricted power of the Governor under the Agreement to impose his wishes upon the Kabaka, the changes introduced resulted in a steady decline in the influence which the Protectorate Government could exert in Buganda.

Cupido Kakkerlak's story provides a concrete example of Khoi experience under the impact of colonization at the beginning of the nineteenth century. During his first forty years or so he lived on Boer farms, learned a sawyer's skills, accumulated a little property and reared a family. In 1800, probably as a result of frontier disturbances at the time, he went to the village of Graaff-Reinet. There, in 1801, he met missionaries of the London Missionary Society and was converted. Casting his lot with the mission, he moved with his family to Algoa Bay and was based at Bethelsdorp until 1815. During this period he practised his trade as a sawyer at the same time as he gained prominence in mission work. In 1813 he served as John Campbell's ‘travelling director’ during a trip to the interior that lasted almost nine months. Campbell's proposals – that a number of new stations be established – made heavy demands on mission personnel and other resources. Six ‘native assistants’ were appointed, one of whom was Cupido. In 1817, after a short sojourn among the Griqua, he undertook a mission to the still nomadic Kora near the Harts River. Six years later, when difficulties both in and outside the mission society had multiplied, his services were abruptly terminated. He was then over sixty years of age. For frontier Khoi, hopeful of a new dispensation in the wake of the 1799–1802 war, the L.M.S. missionaries had provided an undreamt-of opportunity. In the interaction between missionary and Khoi, in the first stages of the mission project, Cupido played a leading part.