Uncovering strange plots by early British anthropologists to use scientific status to manipulate the stock market, Anthropologists in the Stock Exchange tells a provocative story that marries the birth of the social sciences with the exploits of global finance. Marc Flandreau tracks a group of Victorian gentleman-swindlers as they shuffled between the corridors of the London Stock Exchange and the meeting rooms of learned society, showing that anthropological studies were integral to investment and speculation in foreign government debt, and, inversely, that finance played a crucial role in shaping the contours of human knowledge. Flandreau argues that finance and science were at the heart of a new brand of imperialism born during Benjamin Disraeli’s first term as Britain’s prime minister in the 1860s. As anthropologists advocated the study of Miskito Indians or stated their views on a Jamaican rebellion, they were in fact catering to the impulses of the stock exchange—for their own benefit. In this way the very development of the field of anthropology was deeply tied to issues relevant to the financial market—from trust to corruption. Moreover, this book shows how the interplay between anthropology and finance formed the foundational structures of late nineteenth-century British imperialism and helped produce essential technologies of globalization as we know it today.

Reproduction of the original. The publishing house Megali specialises in reproducing historical works in large print to make reading easier for people with impaired vision.

The Expedition to Magdala of 1867-1868 was a memorable event in British Military history of warfare in general, and in the history of Ethiopia. Meticulously planned and executed, the campaign was a triumph for its commander, Sir Robert Napier. It was notable for the use of Elephants imported from India, the building of a port railway and the use of breech-loading rifles, the first time they employed in War.

"Although many of the works on show in the exhibition catalogued in this superb publication appeared at the time in the Illustrated London News, for most readers this will be their first opportunity to see them in colour. Indeed, several of the sketches have never before been published in their original form ? notably William Simpson?s drawing of Prince Alemayehou, which was executed only a few days after the death of his father, the Emperor Tewedros, and of whom very few images have been handed down to us. Readers are also treated to a number of fascinating tidbits, such as the methods practiced by publishers? studio staff to enhance landscape sketches with the addition of human figures, and many will be intrigued to learn of the ?cut and paste? origins of the graphic cover used to illustrate John Pridham?s musical composition commemorating the battle.Professors Pankhurst and Northrup are to be congratulated not only for a succinct and readable presentation of the historical background, but for their insight into the relationship between Ethiopia and the outside world prevailing in the mid-19th century. Whereas previous writers have tended to portray events leading up to the ?Abyssinian difficulty? through European eyes; the reader can now begin to see them in the Ethiopian context. It is a sad irony that it is only in the 21st century that we begin to see that Tewedros?s cultural values had more in common with the pre-Renaissance world of Prester John than with post-industrial revolution Britain. Clearly the British government?s outrage at the imprisonment of its consul, and Napier?s subsequent refusal to accept anything less than total surrender ? even after the release of the prisoners ? would not have been anticipated or even understood by an essentially medi?val monarch. Both Ethiopianists and lovers of military art will be grateful to Frederic Sharf for a unique and important publication. Following hard on the heels of Diary of a Journey to Abyssinia, this carefully prepared exhibition of paintings and drawings of Britain?s Abyssinia expedition fills some significant gaps in our knowledge of 19th century Ethiopia."Ian Campbell, Scholar on Ethiopian Art History