This article explores the needs of young people leaving residential care and the provision of aftercare support in the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries. Young people's discharge, aftercare and post-institutional experiences occupy a peripheral position in scholarship on institutional care. This essay broadens interpretations of aftercare, which have been presented as inadequate inspections that monitored employment performance. Examining the formal and informal systems that aimed to enhance care-leavers' welfare and wellbeing, the essay offers new understandings of the ongoing provision of practical and emotional support to young people, and the importance of sustained contact and affective ties between former inmates and institutional staff.

This essay considers the frequent and varied uses of 'denial' in modern political discourse, suggests the specific psychoanalytic meanings the term has acquired and asks how useful this Freudian concept may be for historians. It notes the debates among historians over the uses of psychoanalysis, but argues that concepts such as 'denial', 'disavowal', 'splitting' and 'negation' can help us to understand both individual and group behaviour. The authors dwell, especially, on 'disavowal' and argue it can provide a particularly useful basis for exploring how and why states of knowing and not knowing co-exist. Historical examples are utilized to explore these states of mind: most briefly, a fragment from a report about the war criminals, produced by an American psychiatrist at the Nuremberg Trial; at greater length, the political arguments and historical writings of an eighteenth-century slave-owner; and finally, a case in a borough of London in the late-twentieth-century, where the neglect, abuse and murder of a child was shockingly 'missed' by a succession of social agencies and individuals, who had evidence of the violence available to them.

Sterilizations of Romani women in socialist Czechoslovakia, either carried out without proper consent, or coerced through substantial financial incentive, were first reported in 1978. Yet these practices did not end with the fall of communism, and it took until 2005 for this to be officially acknowledged by the Czech government. This article draws on published and unpublished documents, as well as oral history interviews, to trace the history of efforts to expose such practices, 'come to terms' with their existence, and change social attitudes in relation to the Romani minority in the Czech lands. These exposures have uncovered instances of denial, and have also offered up a variety of ways of understanding the mental and social mechanisms that might have enabled silences, refusals or disavowals with regard to human rights abuses. Under Communism, dissidents associated with Charter 77 elaborated these through the philosophical concepts of phenomenology; after the transition to democracy, a more psychological and therapeutic language came to the fore. I argue that the Czech case suggests that the historiography of denial and disavowal could be enriched by looking beyond the framework of psychoanalysis: by taking into account how historical actors, sometimes with opposing worldviews, have comprehended these processes within the languages of their own culture and period.

In autumn 1726, Mary Toft began to deliver rabbits in Godalming, Surrey. The case became a sensation and was reported widely in newspapers, popular pamphlets, poems and caricatures. Toft was attended by at least six different doctors, some members of the Royal College of Physicians or attached to the Royal Court, but no doctor declared the affair a hoax until Toft herself confessed on 7 December 1726. This article focuses on Toft's three surviving confessions in order to explore not the doctors or even wider representations of the affair but instead the person of Mary Toft herself. These rare sources give rare insight into one woman's experiences of reproduction in the early eighteenth century. The essay engages with recent work on recovering women's voices in the past, reconstructing Mary Toft's words and her embodied and affective experience of the affair. These documents suggest a revision to our understanding of the hoax of 1726, one that situates the affair not in the context of the scientific revolution and Enlightenment or the assumption of men's control over midwifery, but instead in the context of power dynamics amongst women in the practices of early-modern reproduction and birth.

By examining the longer history of engagement between academics and those outside the academy and reflecting on recent experiences of collaboration, this paper provides a critical perspective on understandings of engagement and the 'impact' of historical research today. Considering in particular the UK higher education landscape and the recent Research Excellence Framework measurement exercise, we argue that the current approach of universities, and understandings of the relationship between them and those outside higher education, promotes a model of one-way dissemination, entails a potentially paternalistic approach to an apparently passive public, and favours easily measurable change. We suggest that by revisiting the intellectual origins of the public-history movement we can better understand where the value in the relationship between academics and the public lies. Our conclusion is that refocusing on the process of engagement - rather than specific and easily evaluated outcomes - better reflects and values the most successful, productive and democratic collaborations between researchers and non-academic partners.

Portraits of scientists use attributes of discovery to construct identities; portraits that include esoteric accessories may fashion identities for these too. A striking example is a marble bust of the anatomist Wilhelm His by the Leipzig sculptor Carl Seffner. Made in 1900, it depicts the founder of modern human embryology looking down at a model embryo in his right hand. This essay reconstructs the design and viewing of this remarkable portrait in order to shed light on private and public relations between scientists, research objects and audiences. The bust came out of a collaboration to model the face of the composer Johann Sebastian Bach and embodies a shared commitment to anatomical exactitude in three dimensions. His’s research agendas and public character explain the contemplative pose and unprecedented embryo model, which he had laboriously constructed from material a midwife supplied. The early contexts of display in the His home and art exhibitions suggest interpretive resources for viewers and hence likely meanings. Seffner’s work remains exceptional, but has affinities to portraits of human embryologists and embryos produced since 1960. Embryo images have acquired such controversial prominence that the model may engage us more strongly now than it did exhibition visitors around 1900.

Although one will not find Edward Melcarth (1914-73) in the best recent histories of male homosexuality and American art, he was not always so spectral. Named in Life magazine in 1950 as one of the best young American artists, he exhibited as a painter, draftsman and sculptor and also practised as an illustrator, photographer and designer. His work survives in the Forbes Collection, in the Smithsonian Institution and in the art archives at the Kinsey Institute. We argue that Melcarth’s vision of the erotic was far broader than the traditional categories of sexuality that are perpetuated in art histories of homoeroticism in modern America – and that such a revisioning enables a reinterpretation of some of the better known images of homosexual art.

The focus of this article is a single personal narrative – a Shetland woman's telling of a story about two girls on a journey to fetch a cure for a sick relative from a wise woman. The story is treated as a cultural document which offers the historian a conduit to a past that is respectful of indigenous woman-centred interpretations of how that past was experienced and understood. The "story of the bottle of medicine" is more than a skilful telling of a local tale; it is a memory practice that provides a path to a deeper and more nuanced understanding of a culture. Applying perspectives from anthropology, oral history and narrative analysis, three sets of questions are addressed: the issue of authenticity; the significance of the narrative structure and storytelling strategies employed; and the nature of the female performance. Ultimately the article asks what this story can tell us about women's interpretation of their own history.

This article considers the rise and decline of South Africa's lucrative and controversial skin-lighteners market through examination of the business history of the largest manufacturers, Abraham and Solomon Krok, and their evolving personas as millionaires and philanthropists. Such examination reveals how the country's skin-lighteners trade emerged as part of the broader growth of a black consumer market after the Second World War and how elements of that market became the target of anti-apartheid protests in subsequent decades. It also demonstrates how the Kroks' experiences as second-generation Jewish immigrants shaped their involvement in the trade and how, later, their self-identification as Jewish philanthropists informed their efforts to rehabilitate their reputations following South Africa's 1990 ban on all skin lighteners. Such efforts include the building of Johannesburg's highly acclaimed Apartheid Museum, modelled after the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. This article explores the profound ironies that some South Africans see in the fact that a museum dedicated to commemorating those who suffered under and, ultimately, triumphed against state racism was financed by a family fortune generated through the sale of skin lighteners to black consumers.

How might creative practices surrounding oral history contribute to public engagement and to historical research itself? These questions are considered here through a reflective account of the making of the audio drama . is based on oral histories of HIV/AIDS in the Republic of Ireland, gathered in 2016-17 as part of the Wellcome Trust-funded project 'Prisons, Medical Care and Entitlement to Health in England and Ireland, 1850-2000'. This piece reviews the processes and practical considerations behind the making of the audio drama and its associated launch events, alongside a summary of the history of HIV/AIDS and of prisons that was being produced and shared. It also offers reflections on the advantages and disadvantages of this particular project in relation to public engagement, the uses of oral histories, and creative history-telling.

This article suggests how the waging of war in an imperial setting may have reshaped military and civilian relations in India from 1939-45. The number of troops stationed in India had repercussions for society and local politics. The article investigates widespread prostitution as one aspect of the gendered wartime economy. Indian prostitution was closely linked to militarization and to the effects of the 1943 Bengal famine. The article also argues this was symptomatic of a more far-reaching renegotiation of the interactions between men and women in the Indian Empire of the 1940s. Other Indian, European, North American and Anglo-Indian women worked as nurses, with the Red Cross and in a variety of roles towards the war effort. Women were subject to new social and sexual demands due to the increased numbers of troops stationed in India in the 1940s.

This article tracks the relatively unexamined ways in which ethnographic, travel and medical knowledge interrelated in the construction of fat stereotypes in the nineteenth century, often plotted along a temporal curve from ‘primitive’ corpulence to ‘civilized’ moderation. By showing how the complementary insights of medicine and ethnography circulated in beauty manuals, weight-loss guides and popular ethnographic books – all of which were aimed at middle-class readers and thus crystallize certain bourgeois attitudes of the time – it argues that the pronounced denigration of fat that emerged in Britain and France by the early twentieth century acquired some of its edge through this ongoing tendency to depict desire for and acceptance of fat as fundamentally ‘savage’ or ‘uncivilized’ traits. This tension between fat and ‘civilization’ was by no means univocal or stable. Rather, this analysis shows, a complex and wide-ranging series of similarities and differences, identifications and refusals can be traced between British and French perceptions of their own bodies and desires and the shortcomings they saw in foreign cultures. It sheds light as well on those aspects of their own societies that seemed ‘primitive’ in ways that bore an uncomfortable similarity to the colonial peoples they governed, demonstrating how a gendered, yet ultimately unstable, double standard was sustained for much of the nineteenth century. Finally it reveals a subtle and persistent racial subtext to the anti-fat discourses that would become more aggressive in the twentieth century and which are ubiquitous today.

When, in June 1921, a clairvoyant informed Christabel Russell, to her great surprise, that she was pregnant, her husband denied paternity and petitioned for divorce on grounds of adultery. The Hon. John Russell claimed that on the very few occasions that they had slept in the same bed in their two and half years of marriage, his method of birth control (which she referred to disapprovingly as "Hunnish scenes") had made pregnancy impossible. What added to the sensational nature of the case was the revelation that whilst pregnant, Christabel's hymen was unbroken – hence the claims of a "virgin birth." Two divorce trials and two appeals followed. The first trial ended inconclusively, the second trial was won for John Russell by the eminent barrister Sir Edward Marshall-Hall, but on the second appeal, in the House of Lords, it was ruled that evidence questioning the legitimacy of a child born in wedlock was inadmissible. The decree nisi was rescinded and the baby was legitimized.

Until 1994, men were not recognized legally as victims of rape in England and Wales. This article explores the history of male survivors of rape there, establishing the uneven patchwork of support services available to them prior to 1994. It argues that a growing psychiatric literature which studied male survivors of sexual violence was a major factor in convincing lawmakers to include men as potential victims of rape in updated sexual offence legislation. Other medical professionals played key roles in bringing male survivors to police attention, but psychiatric research was most influential in changing the policy agenda in this arena.