Alfred Crosby's Children of the Sun

In his 2006 monograph Children of the Sun, historian Alfred Crosby analyzes the global history of human energy dependence, arguing that one of the prime movers of earth’s history has been the quest for more energy sources. Divided into three parts, Crosby’s text starts with three chapters on “The Largess of the Sun.” He argues that all early energy, whether through burning biomass for heat, or using solar energy to grow food, all human activity depended on the sun. The Columbian Exchange also relied on the sun since it is through the sun that wind its created with which to travel the globe. Additionally, the sun allowed certain plants to thrive or die in different environments, in directly causing the Great Potato famine of Ireland and then mass immigration to the US. This was one of his strongest sections, and drew heavily from his earlier and more famous books The Columbian Exchange and Ecological Imperialism. The second portion of his text, titled “Fossilized Sunshine,” addresses the history of fossil fuels and traditional non-renewable resources. Arguing that wind and water mills did not provide enough energy for the growing demand of the late sixteenth century Europe and Asia, with growing wood shortages, people turned to coal for production and heat. Using coal for rail travel also allowed for vast shipping networks of goods. The internal combustion engine and petroleum was an even more efficient medium for energy use and management. He ends this section with a discussion of electricity and its evolution from an entertainment device to a means of execution. His final section, “Energy at the Turn of the Third Millennium,” discusses fusion and fission energy. He concludes with a discussion of the limitations of our energy sources and suggestions that we may need to reexamine our usages.

Crosby’s text is interesting in many ways. First, it is a brief and well-written work on the history of energy usage. Each chapter served as an interesting and uncomplicated introduction to the history of a variety of non-human actors. In fact, whole books can, and have been written on the subjects of his individual twenty page chapters. He actually devotes little energy into creating a sophisticated argument, opting for a very straightforward narrative. Like Stephen Pyne, he addresses these forms of energy in terms of Bruno Latour’s hybrids though in a slightly less effective way than Pyne. For example, despite being a work that expands into pre-history, he does examine the sun and energy in strictly anthropocentric terms. Also like Pyne, his work does threaten to be reductionist, as he essentially asserts that the sun and its various sources of energy are the source of all human history. He is correct in that technically life would not exist on earth without the sun, but it is still a problematic historical claim as there are many other human motivations besides a quest for energy. Additionally, he heavily utilizes the first person plural, which while aiding in accessibility, is also problematic. For example, asserting that “we seized species of wild potatoes”[1] is very imprecise and even ahistorical as there is no way to know who seized those tubers and when and why. However, he does create a nice synthesis of contemporary historical theories, linking environmental history with the history of science and technology similar to that of Joy Parr’s Sensing Changes and Sarah Pritchard’s Confluence. Therefore this could be a useful text for introducing students to envirotechnical history but would not be useful for a serious study of energy history.

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[1] P. 27

Thomas Kuhn’s “Mathematical vs. Experimental Traditions in the Development of Physical Science”

In honor of Joseph Priestley's 279th birthday, I wanted to include a piece on the history of chemistry. However, since I do not have a piece on chemistry laying around and I really have no time to write one, I have opted to add an entry on Kuhn. This very much relates to Priestley since he was one of the last followers of phlogiston theory, protesting vehemently against Lavoisier's new chemistry. Therefore, in line with a Kuhnian Scientific Revolution, during the Chemical Revolution, Lavoisier's chemical theories fixed many anomalies of phlogiston, but were ultimately incommensurable with them and eventually succeeded them.

In his 1976 article “Mathematical vs. Experimental Traditions in the Development of Physical Science,” Thomas Kuhn explores the historiographical question: “Are the sciences one or many?”[1] He begins by presenting the common strengths and weaknesses of historical narratives that choose to accept either answer. Those historians who recognize science as “a loose-linked congeries of separate sciences,” are frequently attentive to the technical details of scientific knowledge, but tend to affix their subjects to modern definitions. Citing the history of electricity, he shows that the study of what is now considered to be electricity did not commence until the seventeenth century and that previous study of ‘electrical’ phenomena like lightning and electric eels were not connected and were not per say, electrical studies. As such, it neglects the contextual influences that actually shape the manner in which the science was produced. The other historiographical tradition presented by Kuhn “treats science as a single enterprise.” The primary criticism that he directs at this practice is the exact opposite of the previous tradition: instead of studying the evolving content of scientific study, they focus on the contextual framework within which it emerged. He then offers a possible solution to this debate by asserting that any historian who wishes to properly address scientific development must attempt to bridge the gap between the two traditional routes, neither assuming science to be one, nor passively accepting the scientific subdivisions set by modern science textbooks.

The lengthy remainder of Kuhn’s article is his own solution about how to divide the specifically the physical sciences into two groups: the classical or ‘mathematical’ physical sciences rooted in ancient Greece, astronomy, harmonics, mathematics, optics and statics, and the ‘Baconian’ or experimental disciplines of magnetism, electricity, and heat.[2] This narrative is interesting, accomplishing two primary feats. He successful offers an example of a historical narrative that takes the ‘middle ground’ of historical traditions, recognizing science as neither one nor many by showing distinctions between scientific disciplines while also showing external forces that allowed for their interactions. Additionally, he gives convincing narrative of how two entirely incommensurable traditions of scientific practices each contributed to the growth of physical sciences during the Scientific Revolution. Though he does not address other fields of science such as different biological traditions, medicine, or alchemy, his stated purpose was to provide his audience with an account of the physical sciences without extending much further.

Kuhn’s article is not free from criticism. In the epilogue of his Optics in the Age of Euler, Casper Hakfoort attempts to apply Kuhn’s thesis to his own study of Enlightenment optics, and while not arguing with Kuhn’s historiographical assertions, he argues that rather than sorting the physical sciences into two traditions, he adds a third division: natural philosophy. He cites Descartes’ work as being neither an extension of the Aristotelian traditions which governed the classical tradition nor resembling the growing experimentalism of Baconian science.[3] He contends that in the field of optics, studies were split between his three proposed traditions and believes that in general, it is more reasonable to source modern physics to the synthesis of all three traditions rather than, as Kuhn does, argue that modern physics came from the adoption of mathematical methods by the Baconian tradition.[4] HF Cohen, in his monograph The Scientific Revolution, also offers Kuhn several critiques. Like Hakfoort, Cohen refers to Descartes as a figure and optics as a discipline that do not fit strictly within Kuhn’s divisions. Additionally, he questions other figures and fields addressed by Kuhn like Galileo and statics that he contends do not neatly fit into Kuhn’s categories of physical science. Additionally, he notes that Kuhn mainly disregards the mechanical revolution which could be another tradition within the physical sciences leading to modern physics.[5]

Despite his critics, Kuhn’s attempt to reconcile two vastly different historiographical traditions is laudable, not only as a study of Early Modern physics, but more importantly as a novel, for its time, manner to examine the existing divisions between scientific disciplines. By using Kuhn as a model, historians can not only replicate his studies of physics, finding their own sweeping divisions but also apply his method to life sciences, chemistry, technology, and medicine. Using this template, perhaps on a larger scale, historians can more richly elucidate historical accounts rather than holding to older methods of studying either technical advances or social context.

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[1] Kuhn, Thomas S. "Mathematical vs. Experimental Traditions in the Development of Physical Science." Journal of Interdisciplinary History 1st ser. 7 (1976): 1. Print.

[2] Ibid p. 6

[3] Hakfoort, Casper. Optics in the Age of Euler: Conceptions of the Nature of Light, 1700-1795. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Print. p. 181

[4] Ibid p. 191

[5] Cohen, H F. The Scientific Revolution: A Historiographical Inquiry. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994. Print. 131-133

March 2nd 1972- Pioneer 10 launched into space

I would like to post something that is not a book review in honor of this day in history. Today I would like to celebrate  the day that forty years ago, NASA launched Pioneer 10 into space. This probe, which sent earth vital information and photos, was the first spacecraft to explore the outer planets. It left the solar system in 1983 radioing back the first data on interstellar space and continued send information back to NASA until the end of its mission in 1997. At the time, it had traveled over six billion miles.
But the future of Pioneer 10 is truly exciting. Headed toward the Taurus constellation, it is scheduled to pass close to the star Ross 246 in the year 346000 AD. Famous astronomer Carl Sagan designed a small plaque bolted onto the plaque that includes a drawing of a man and woman, a star map of our sun as well as the direction traveled by the probe. This message, intended for extra-terrestrials, will alert them to the existence of Earth.
We can for hope four things in the future of this inevitable encounter.
1) Humans still look similar to the images on the plaque after many thousands of years of evolution
2) The aliens do not want to conquer earth and eat our flesh, but like the Vulcans, come in peace
3) We have not already been exterminated in this future year, either by our own doing or another hostile alien nation from the Andromeda galaxy.
4) The rapture will not have occurred.

The Role of Facts in History and in the Physical Sciences

In his book What is History? E.H. Carr examines the role that historical facts play in historical method. He begins by asserting that many 19^th and early 20^th century historians sought an “ultimate history,”[1] an all inclusive canon, solving all previous historical problems. Their ideal method was studying and processing historical facts empirically without examining their own motivations or even the agendas of their sources. He explains that good history should acknowledge the context in which it was written and that historical facts are in fact subject to the prejudices of the historian. The relationship between the historian and his[2] facts marks the biggest divide between research methods in physical sciences and history. For historians, not only are facts disputable, but their discovery is not the end goal of a historical work. For physical scientists, as Bruno Latour and Thomas Kuhn contend, facts generally remain undisputed and the discovery of new facts is the primary goal of such scientists.

For Thomas Kuhn in his The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, the history of scientific inquiry is composed of a series of paradigms or sets of practices that define a scientific discipline in any particular time. For Kuhn, facts emerge as part of “normal science,” or scientific observations that confirm or perpetuate the standing paradigm. Though it is probable that scientific facts reflect the partialities of physical scientists, it is generally accepted in the scientific community that if science is practiced properly according to a widely accepted methodology, all scientists will reach the same factual conclusion. Additionally, facts are determined as correct by how well they fit within the set paradigm. Any observation that does not fit is identified as an anomaly and is either shelved or forced to fit the paradigm before it can be classified as a fact. Once a fact is determined, it generally goes unquestioned until a new a scientific revolution comes about. The goal of physical science is, consequently, to gather as many facts as possible to support a paradigm, which in itself is a grand-scale fact.[3]

The stationary nature of scientific facts is explored further in Bruno’s Latour’s sociological study of Science in Action. Latour determines that science is composed of a series of “black boxes.” He defines a black box as a scientific fact that despite its complexity, controversial history, or its relationship to the networks holding it in place only its “impact and output count.”[4] Once the relevant observations and associated social and scientific information is gathered and generally agreed upon by sets of allies, they become a black box which is never again questioned or ‘reopened’ unless a significant anomaly emerges. Though Latour describes massive commercial and academic networks behind scientific research, future scientists accept the resulting ‘fact’ usually unconcerned by agendas and external motivations that could have influenced the final product.[5] Future scientists then use the black boxes as a foundation upon which to build further black boxes.

According to Kuhn and Latour, scientific facts are a series of observations that once they  either support an existing paradigm or acquire a sufficient number of allies, they  remain static and immovable. They are also the broad-spectrum end goal of scientific practice. It is even frequently assumed by physical scientists that the entire natural world is composed of “facts” and it is the responsibility of the scientists to “discover” and present them, unfiltered, to the rest of society. Conversely, according to Carr, facts for historians are changeable and complex. Like in science, the identity of facts is determined by their relevance, but in history, that is decided by the individual historian. Additionally, although facts are an essential part of history, they alone do not comprise history. History is, instead, shaped by the interaction of historical observations and their relationship to the historian. Yet despite the differences between historical and scientific facts, it would be erroneous to ignore paradigms within historical study which, despite having a more varied interpretation of fact, still has tenable rules for what is acceptable in the larger historical community.

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[1] Carr, Edward H. What Is History? New York: Knopf, 1962 p 3

[2] Though I acknowledge that many historians and scientists are female, for the purposes of this paper I will retain the use of the male pronoun

[3] Kuhn, Thomas S. The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970

[4] Latour, Bruno. Science in Action: How to Follow Scientists and Engineers Through Society. Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1987 p.3

[5] Ibid

Examining Joel Kaye’s “The Impact of Money on the Development of Fourteenth-century Scientific Thought"

In his article “The Impact of Money on the Development of Fourteenth-century Scientific Thought,” Joel Kaye examines the social context of the rise of money in the fourteenth century and its subsequent impact on scientific thought. He argues that in this new monetized world, money’s use as a technological tool for measurement lead to the new science of calculationes whose practitioners devised intricate systems to measure qualities as well as the development of latitudo formarum as an instrument of relation and representation. In order to support his argument he evaluates medieval writings, particularly those of Nicolas Oresme whom he argues provides a direct link between the rise of money and the science of calculationes.

Kaye begins by establishing the fourteenth century as the pivotal time in the monetization of Europe. He argues that the unstable economic situations of war, plague, and famine forced people to have a heightened awareness of the shifting values of money and marketable goods. During the Hundred Years War, the kings of both French and England began to recognize the fiscal requirements for warfare and increasingly worked to secure money for wars. They frequently secured money by debasing the coinage of the realm which led to sharp fluctuations in values and prices. This obliged all people who wished to avoid being on the wrong side of rising prices to pay close attention to the changing values in the marketplace. The plague also had economic influences as many came into multiple inheritances and lead to an increase in per capita wealth. This encouraged the further development of money conscientiousness on all sectors of society. Even the Church was not excluded from monetization. Due to a rise of lavish displays and papal wars in the fourteenth century, the papacy became so concerned with financial matters that they established the Apostolic Camera to manage the Church’s money. Because the Church and the government were the most frequent career destinations for university graduates, the scientific elite could not be unaware of the market place.

After establishing the social context for the monetization of Europe, Kaye begins to relate the use of money to the higher process of intangible conceptual thought. In the middle of the fourteenth century, around the same time as the rise of money, many English natural philosophers began to apply quantitative rules to solve philosophical problems. Any quality capable of an increase or decrease was considered measurable. This included things such as love, joy, pain, friendship, heat, and a vast number of others. This idea of subjective concepts given an objective value was also applied to the use of money. Rather than value being subjective to barter, commodities took on a fixed value. Wages also took the subjective concept of the worth of time and labor and applied a monetary value to it. The Church, in its attempts to raise funds began to apply values to particular sins and years in purgatory. In its sale of indulgences, the Church was measuring intangibles, such as sins and forgiveness in terms of money.

Kaye then offers the medieval treatise De moneta by Nicolas Oresme as proof of the link between monetary and scientific thought as the proof for his thesis. In his work, Oresme argues that value of money is in its function as an instrument of measurement. He believed that it was a technological advance that allowed values to “become capable of the most easy comparison.”[1] Since all goods had a value in terms of their cost, or their position on a common scale, “every saleable item is at the same time a measured item.”[2] Oresme also argued against the manipulation of money which limited its function as an instrument to determine value. Thomas Aquinas and other medieval philosophers also believed that “the instrument of money was invented in order to give a numerical statement to human need.” Oresme also was very influential in developing a system of lines to measure a variety of qualities under a common standard of measurement. Kaye then ends his paper with the observation that though the model of measurement was very prevalent, very few philosophers actually ever measured anything. This is perhaps due to the fact that measurements could only find relationships between things, and never their absolute value. Be that as it may, Oresme represents one of several fourteenth century philosophers who devised conceptual systems to measure seemingly immeasurable qualities, and who recognized the power of money to quantify human need.

Kaye’s article is an interesting analysis of the phenomenon of the monetization of Europe and the simultaneous rise of calculationes to measure philosophical concepts and qualities. However his primary piece of evidence is that Oresme wrote both on money and on measurement of other qualities in separate papers. He definitely proves that there is a correlation in the fourteenth century between money and measurement, but does not offer compelling evidence that one caused the other. If he had offered some evidence of philosophers themselves linking monetization and the rise of measurement, his article would be stronger. As he says, his conclusions “require further textual testing and research.” [3]However, his paper was an excellent introduction to medieval monetization and the science of calculationes in the fourteenth century.

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[1] Joel Kaye  “The Impact of Money on the Development of Fourteenth Century Scientific Thought” p. 258

[2] Ibid p. 260

[3] Ibid P. 264

Book Review: Secrets of Women

In her 2006 monograph Secrets of Women: Gender, Generation, and the Origins of Human Dissection[1] Katharine Park follows the studies of women’s bodies in the Renaissance and asserts that social understandings of gender played a central role in the history of medicine. Focusing on the anatomization of female bodies, particularly of the 1300–1550 Florentine aristocracy, her book explores the “linked themes of generation, holiness, and female corporeality in connection with the early history of human dissection.”[2] The dissection of the corpses of holy women confirmed their holy status, while the dissection of patrician mothers revealed “women’s secrets” and reproductive mysteries. In a series of case studies culled from anecdotes from Florentine archives, analysis of anatomical treatises, and a vast assortment of images, she successfully demonstrates that mysteries surrounding women’s bodies spurred the development of anatomical studies in pre-modern Europe.

Initially, Park investigates how the dissections of various holy women demonstrated why women were ideal subjects for determining “secrets” within a body. In 1308, Chiara of Montefalco, an ascetic and visionary was dissected post mortem by other nuns looking for proof of her holy status. Not only did they find cross-shaped tissue within her heart, they also found three gallstones which ‘represented’ the holy trinity. Margherita of Citta di Castello, another ascetic and visionary who died in 1320, was also dissected by fellow nuns who found within her heart stones impressed with holy images.[3] In both cases, the evidence found within their bodies was present at each respective canonization trial. Yet although holy women were dissected, it was generally recognized that these women were different from the broader female population. Their internal organs confirmed their outwardly saintly behaviors, which could not be observed by outsiders. Though this differs greatly from the type of knowledge sought by dissecting lay women, it set the standard for autopsying women to answer anatomical riddles.

In her second chapter, Park argues that in early Italian Renaissance, anatomical knowledge was represented in a public male form rather than a secretive female form and thus in this period the female body emerged as the model subject for dissection due to secret and hidden interior. She begins by establishing that in medieval Italy, there was a set of knowledge ranging from abortion,[4] livestock health,[5] and particularly reproductive health and care of infants,[6] which was practiced by women as went generally unknown to men. This idea of feminine secrets was perpetuated by the location of female reproductive anatomy: within the body. This contrasted male reproductive anatomy which was on the outside and therefore “easier” to understand. Therefore, after death the woman’s reproductive organs were the chief subject of study. This in turn established the purpose of dissection in general as a quest by the dissector to reveal secrets concealed within the body.

A key aspect of understanding women’s anatomical secrets was in the field of reproductive health. In this period, due to the high mortality rate of children, it was essential that women bear as many children as possible for dynastic purposes. In order to better understand generation, many patrician wives and their uteruses specifically were dissected after death in childbirth. As a result, male physicians entered the field of reproductive health and began to treat women for infertility and miscarriage. Finally, Park analyses the title page of Andreas Vesalius’ 1543 text De Humani Corporis Fabrica, drawing attention to the fact that although famous for its “musclemen” his subject is in the famous frontispiece is a woman. This is strange, she claims for work which is weakest in its understanding of female anatomy,[7] but fitting nicely in her thesis that learned men believed that the way to better anatomy was to understand the internal workings and “secrets of women.”

For many reasons, Park’s work is comparable to Mario Biagioli’s 1993 book Galileo Courtier.[8] Initially they seem to discuss vastly different topics; anatomical dissection versus the court life of Galileo within the Medici Court. However, they are very similar in many respects. Firstly, they both examine a specific cultural institution within the Early Modern/Renaissance Florentine aristocracy.  Park, through examinations of dissection, determined that cultural understandings of the female body fueled anatomical and medical practices even through Vesalius. She also implies that social practices of female dissection impacted the way Vesalius himself practiced and published his research. In contrast, Biagioli examines how the cultural practice of patronage at the Florentine Medici Court impacted the way that Galileo practiced science. Examining these texts together allows for an extremely rich picture of how unique cultural and social institutions impacted the “great men of science” in Renaissance and Early Modern Florence.

In Secrets of Women Katharine Park examines the anatomical practices in the dissection of holy women, and mothers and wives in a quest for anatomical secrets but also clues for reproduction. Though she fails to provide historiographical instances of historians dismissing gender in studies of Renaissance anatomy, she is not writing a historiographical text but a rich and unexplored cultural history. Her argument is not only an excellent introduction to the history of anatomy, but it also places to role of women in medical history as not merely observers but as active participants as subjects of study. This book is essential for readers interested in the cultural and social history of Renaissance Italy, gender history, or the history of medicine, especially when paired with similar social examinations of the Florentine aristocracy, such as Galileo, Courtier .

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[1] Park, Katharine. Secrets of Women: Gender, Generation, and the Origins of Human Dissection. New York: Zone Books, 2006.

[2] Ibid p. 35

[3] Ibid p. 67

[4] Ibid p. 84

[5] Ibid p.78

[6] Ibid p. 102

[7] Ibid p.

[8] Biagioli, Mario. Galileo, Courtier: The Practice of Science in the Culture of Absolutism. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993. Print

Review of Lindsay Robertson's Conquest by Law

In his 2005 monograph, Conquest by law: how the discovery of America dispossessed indigenous peoples of their lands,[1] Lindsay Robertson narrates the history of the landmark 1823 Supreme Court case of Johnson v. M’Intosh which held that private citizens could not purchase land titles from American Indians. Robertson also explores the circumstances which led to the “discovery doctrine,” the cornerstone of this legal opinion and the long lasting impact that this case had, far beyond what he believes was Chief Justice Marshall’s original intent. In this rather dense, though interesting narrative, the author uses a plethora of primary source documents, previously uninvestigated by historians and manages to produce a concise and interesting history of not only Johnson v. M’Intosh, but also the dynamics of the early American judicial process.

Robertson begins his work with four stated goals: contextualizing the legal history of Johnson v. M’Intosh, exposing the process of judicial lawmaking in the early nineteenth century, recasting the figure of John Marshall in a more human and less omnipotent guise, and encouraging a reassessment of Johnson v. M’Intosh in the light of its procedural and political history. The first three chapters of this book consist of an extremely taut narrative of how Johnson v. M’Intosh came before the Supreme Court. He starts with the Proclamation Line of 1763, an edict which prohibited non-Indians from settling west of the Appalachian Mountains and the Illinois and Wabash Land Companies’ illegal maneuvering around that law to acquire land in present day Indiana and Illinois. He then delves into a detailed account of Maryland attorney and politician Robert Goodloe Harper’s long orchestration of this Supreme Court case in order to increase his own wealth presumably through land speculation as well as the precedent set by Fletcher v. Peck which hinted that Indians did not hold title to their own lands.

Johnson v. M’Intosh set the descendents of Thomas Johnson, one of the original purchasers of land from the Illinois and Wabash Companies who had purchased it from the Piankeshaw tribe, against William M’Intosh who had purchased a similar tract of land from the US government. Harper hoped to prove that the original sale was legal, thereby granting himself, and other land speculators access to thousands of acres. Despite years of careful planning, the Supreme Court found for Johnson, deciding that while Indians were “rightful occupants of the soil…the discovery [by the Crown] gave exclusive title to those who made it.”[2] This ruling gave the vast acreage of the continental US to the government, who could purchase occupancy as needed from the native population and was used as the precedent for the Indian removal policies characteristic of the Jackson administration.

Robertson’s final three chapters attempt to explain the Johnson v. M’Intosh in their historical context as well as chart its lasting impact. He places much of the blame on mitigating political and social factors in John Marshall’s own life. First, he believed that finding for Johnson would allow Congress to fufill promises to Revolutionary War veterans who had been denied access to land in Kentucky. Additionally, the political disputes in the Early Republic had, in some instatnces threatened the security and stability of the Supreme Court. His decision, which he likely believed would have no lasting impact, was the most politically uncontroversial and helped garner support for the Court. Later, in Worchester v. Georgia, Marshall attempted to slightly reverse his position from Johnson v. M’Intosh, ruling that state governments had no rights to enforce laws on Indian lands, but after his death, this opinion was overshadowed by his “discovery doctrine.”

Robertson’s book works well in many ways. First, it is an enlightening narrative of the origins and procedures of Johnson v. M’Intosh, one of the most important Indian Laws in history. It also demonstrates the complicated birth of the modern judicial system, showing that the Supreme Court was not automatically established with the same powers and responsibilities that it is granted today. Additionally he shows how personal and political factors can impact historical acts beyond merely the facts and laws associated with the case. This book is slightly difficult for those who have little exposure to legal history. Though he helpfully provides two appendices, and writes very clearly, some of the narrative and language is tricky for those without some background in law or legal history. Additionally, as he states in the introduction, the absence of any Indian voices, though definitely a sign of their disenfranchisement, also makes this narrative somewhat incomplete. However, this is likely due to a lack of sources from this perspective. On a slightly more obscure note, running through this text are notes on Indian rights to hunt on their land, without owning the fee-title, or the rights of Europeans to take land that was not being properly utilized. [3] The assumption of a hunter-gather society in many of the Indian lands is one that has been challenged by historians, notably William Cronon, who have suggested that even Indians in New England practiced agriculture, simply not in a manner recognizable to Europeans. This issue is not really addressed in this text. Granted, it is not intended to be an environmental or social history of nineteenth century Indians but seems important if a justification for land confiscation was lack of ‘proper,’ agrarian use.

Despite, these remarks, Robertson’s text is an excellent resource for anyone interested in the Early Republic, Native American History or American legal history. It is a concise, well written and painstakingly researched book, filled with many helpful maps and images as in addition to references from vast primary source documents.

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[1] Robertson, Lindsay Gordon. 2005. Conquest by law: how the discovery of America dispossessed indigenous peoples of their lands. Oxford: Oxford University Press

[2] Ibid 76

[3] For example, on p. 107