British financial interests in China, since 1895, had been closely linked with political and strategic considerations. As the political and financial rivalry between the European powers intensified, the link tightened, becoming increasingly essential for mutual preservation. European finance meant railways, mineral rights, arms, and support for the ailing Manchu Dynasty; it was clear to successive British governments that British political supremacy in China could not survive the passing of such important financial concessions into foreign hands. In 1898, with the international scramble for concessions at its peak, the leading representatives of British finance in China co-operated fully with the Foreign Office to gain the bulk of Chinese railway contracts and concessions. Such respectable British enterprises as the British and Chinese Corporation and the Pekin Syndicate received active diplomatic support at Peking and the encouragement of the Foreign Office in London. Short of actually negotiating financial contracts on behalf of private companies British diplomacy could do little more to improve the competitive standing of these leading British firms vis-à-vis their foreign rivals.

In the first decades of the nineteenth-century Western missionary activity, like the opium trade, was prohibited by the Chinese government. The Protestant missionaries, however, could not equal the independent opium traders in their evasion of the Chinese authorities. As well, they had to contend with the opposition of the British East India Company, which theoretically monopolized Anglo-Chinese commerce at Portuguese Macao.

The orthodox approach to a criticism of early Indonesian novels has always been to see the novel as an expression of the clash between adat and modernism, between the old conservative traditions upheld by the elders of the village community and the new Weltanschauung of the members of the younger generation. The latter have been exposed to Western traditions of thought, and their desires and ambitions refuse to be contained by the traditional patterns of a society to which they feel close but whose narrowness they regard as crippling to their own personal development. This conceptualization of the problems of Indonesian society between the wars has gone almost unchallenged; nearly all discussion of its literature has been framed within its reference. Professor A. Johns's article in Quadrant is perhaps the most recent formulation of this approach. The intellectual, educated elements of society which Johns sees summed up in the figures of Kartini, the champion of women's rights, and Goenawan Mohammed, a contemporary literary figure, seek to develop ideas and attitudes which have no currency in traditional society. Their attempts to modernize society arouse opposition, but it is not this which pains them so much as their being misunderstood and their unwillingness to break with the society of their fathers to which they feel a close attachment.

Gopal Hari Deshmukh, popularly known by his pen name of Lokahitasvadi, and Vishnu Krishna Chiplunkar were two of the most prominent public figures in nineteenth-century Maharashtra. It is customary for both Indian and Western scholars to link them with literary and nationalist movements. Yet no effort has been made so far to assess their contribution by means of a survey of their work.

The British Indian empire, like the empires before it, depended on a measure of collaboration with the ruled. But the raj's systems of collaboration were neither static nor uniform. In the decade after 1900 some of the Indian princes, and the Maharaja of Kolhapur in particular, worked closely with the British to stem the rising tide of militant nationalism. This essay attempts to uncover the reasons for this collaboration-reasons which suggest that collaboration was always a conditional bargain, reflecting the immediate interests of both sides.

Until very recently, scholars of nineteenth-century India have tended to dismiss the role of urban government and politics as trivial or inconsequential. Most have reached their conclusions by studying the formation of policy in London or Delhi, using the private papers of high officials or reports prepared by the Government of India. A standard authority on British policy of this period states that local self-government ‘proved to be a tree which never took firm root. Local self-government never gained major significance in the political history of modern India.’ Local self-government failed, according to another scholar, because ‘… a rigid system of supervision was created, which ran from the smallest municipality up to the Secretary of State for India.’ In his opinion, this control and shortage of funds can be held responsible for the lack of development in ‘… the scope of public services, which were confined to the bare essentials.’ A dreary picture of petty quarreling in municipal government and stagnation in urban services prevails, alleviated only by the appearance of Lord Curzon as Viceroy in 1899 and his efforts to instill some ‘dynamic influence’ into local government. Although the policy of local self-government satisfied neither official aims nor nationalist aspirations, its importance for local politics and administration is now undergoing a major reassessment.

A Substantial body of literature argues persuasively that Indian towns were often founded by local political-military rulers to serve as fortress-headquarters. In order to enhance their personal prestige, improve the efficiency of their administration, and provide market facilities for their small kingdoms, the rulers later invited merchants, artisans, administrators, and professionals to the fortress capitals. These invited, non-landed groups then formed courts, markets, and temple establishments which were dependent on the ruler for protection in an often violent atmosphere. The headquarters towns have been seen as the geographical locus and political nexus, or hinge, at which village levels of polity were linked with regional or state levels of government in a predominantly agrarian society. The most explicit and sophisticated presentation of this ‘hinge’ view is in Richard Fox's ‘Rajput “Clans” and Rurban Settlements in Northern India.'