In my previous blog I discussed the remarkable and influential seventeenth century Mughal princess, Gulbudan Banu Begum. The Begum was the only Indian imperial lady of that century to pen a history of the Mughal Empire. The work, entitled Aḥvāl-i Humāyūn Pādshāh (‘The Life of King Humayun’), is a fascinating account of the formation of the empire. It spans the life of the Princess’s father and founder of the empire, Zahir al-Din Muhammad Babur, and continues through to her half-brother and Babur’s heir, Nasir al-Din Muhammad Humayun. The eye-witness account is incisive, rich and dramatic as it weaves together a tumultuous early history.

As a researcher of early English encounters with Mughal India, the Aḥvāl-i Humāyūn Pādshāh, or Humayunnama, as it is also known as, is a key primary source for my research. As the only memoir of its kind from seventeenth century India, it is undoubtedly a valuable treasure of that nation. Indeed, the memoirs would be written at the personal request of celebrated Mughal Emperor Akbar and would be used as a source for his renowned official history, the Akbarnama. It may therefore surprise readers to know that the only known surviving copy of the Humayunnama is to be found at the British Library in London. The question then arises – how does a manuscript of such intrinsic value to another nation end up in our public library here in Britain?

Earlier today I joined a wonderful online panel of researchers, hosted by the Society of Renaissance Studies, to discuss this very thing: the question of provenance. My presentation explored the example of Sir Hans Sloane, a seventeenth century physician and collector who bequeathed his vast collection to the British state at his death for the sum of £20,000, payable to his heirs. The collection would go on to found the British Museum, Natural History Museum and British Library. This act of philanthropy (although Sloane’s bequest came at a sizeable price, it was nonetheless less than the actual cost of the vast collection) does however come tinged in controversy – and not a little smattering of blood. Sloane’s collection was paid in large part from the profits of slave plantations in Jamaica. Furthermore, his collection was aided by the infrastructure of slavery; slave traders, slave-ship surgeons and others were among those supplying natural specimens to Sloane for his collection.

Sir Hans Sloane (1660-1753)

The question therefore arises - how does one approach archival material of questionable provenance? While Sloane’s collection comes with the pronounced odour of slavery, the manuscript of our Princess’s memoirs, drawn from a previous British colony, bears its own wafts of colonial violence. While I cannot confirm the provenance of the memoirs in its entirety, the possibility of contention inevitably remains high. The last owner of the manuscript was Colonel George William Hamilton (1807-1868), who served in India from 1823 to 1867, latterly as Commissioner in Delhi.

For myself, as a decolonial researcher – and Editor of this decolonial platform, Medieval and Early Modern Orients – do I serve the purpose of decolonisation by benefiting from colonial violence in my research without acknowledging it? I suggest not. But acknowledgement is, I hope, an essential first step in the process. How one addresses the reality of archival violence in broader terms will require more thought and discussion, and I hope fellow researchers will join in that conversation.

Archival research is a tricky affair in many ways, but not often in the realm of ethics. Whereas certain academic disciplines will require ethical considerations to be at the forefront of research, this is not often the case for humanities research and particularly for those working in history. However, what I suggest is that we should be concerned about the ethics of our research; that direct trajectories of violence can be drawn, that the archives many of us work in may have been founded on aggression upon human lives, and that as researchers we benefit from that aggression in our uncritical access to that material.

If we are not careful then, the study of history too can be a troublingly unethical process. But it can also be ethical, just and compassionate. And it is our task to make it so.

Title Image: Akbar reunited with his mother after an absence of two years: scene from the Mughal haram which likely includes Gulbudan Begum among the figures depicted. Accessed here

Second Image: Sir Hans Sloane. Accessed here