Rediscovering ‘Lost’ Archival Voices
Written by: Amouraé Bhola-Chin
People often think that the most interesting historical narratives originate from the ‘richest’ of archival sources — those which answer our inquiries and seemingly tell an entire story. Yet our exploration into figures who forged London’s colonial transnational links challenges this position. Instead, we continue to dive into documents which force us to ask questions about why individual lives— such as that of Ignatius Sancho —have been conflated to tell the whole story of Londoners of African descent.
By assessing history through the lens of a city, our project aspires to shift the focus onto collective and personal exchanges, in order to offer a fuller picture of such a culturally-rich epicentre as London. Our research, which spans from the Early Modern period to the nineteenth century, encourages contemporary citizens to situate themselves within London’s dynamic narrative become familiar with how institutions continue to profit from older industries.
Projects like these attempt to extend the conversation to the wider public, while reimagining individuals’ relationships with archival institutions. Acknowledging the largely independent nature of research that shapes the official historical narrative, Mapping Black London, in particular, aims to make a point of engaging not just with academics, archivists and budding historians alike, but with everyday people with everyday experiences (past and present).
Extending Conversations
The group sitting down with Boughton House archivists, Crispin Powell and Charles Lister, in 2022.
Visiting Archives
During a tour of Boughton House, we learned more about Sancho’s life as a royal servant to the Montagu family, and got to handle some of the documents.
If this project has taught us one thing, it’s the wealth of knowledge that you can receive from a visit to the archives and their rapidly expanding digital platforms. Our study, which was born as ‘Ignatius Sancho’s London,’— now, Mapping Black London —has relied on material made accessible to the public, and the conversations they provoke. Only from this has it been made possible for us as researchers to build up the social histories of these often marginalised communities.
I appreciate the power of first-hand accounts of Transatlantic enslavement because they dignify lives not deemed worthy enough. These have made their way to the surface when, as a team, we have re-evaluated the complex and varied experiences of people of African descent in the colonial era. Handling their histories with care has become one of the lifelines of our research, especially considering the difficulties we and others face when piecing them together from fragments within the archival arena.
By the time I was wrapping up my research for the Unforgotten Lives exhibition, I realised how simply quoting the thoughts of an enslaved person could bring to life their hushed voices. And so the process began where I made it my mission to delve into the accounts and poetry of formerly enslaved individuals. As you can imagine, I learned a lot.
I came across a snippet in Mary Prince’s narrative entitled, The History of Mary Prince, as she recounted her time, from London, on the Caribbean islands of Bermuda, Antigua and Barbuda and Turks and Caicos:
Oh the horrors of slavery! —How the thought of it pains my heart! But the truth ought to be told of it; and what my eyes have seen I think it is my duty to relate.
(Prince 1831: 11)
Taking this excerpt for example: Mary’s testimony alone, or together with other collective memories across the Americas, emboldens her position as a victim of chattel slavery. This plays in the back of my mind when dealing with archival material relating to the communities my ancestors were a part of; it’s as if I become witness to them — to their laments, as well as their hopes. It becomes my duty to listen to what they have to say: for they are confiding in us.
In saying this, I would encourage you to visit a library and an archive in London — or wherever you are. You never know what you are going to encounter, and whose voice you’re going to hear. As well as investigating the material, take the time to ask the librarians or archivists (and if you’re fortunate, curators) pointed questions about the provenance of the sources. You may come out with differing opinions, and that’s okay — as you will come to see, that is a key feature of historiography.
*The year-long exhibition, Unforgotten Lives: Rediscovering Londoners of African, Caribbean, Asian and Indigenous Heritage, 1560 to 1860, echoes the personal voices buried within community histories. If you are in the city, please visit the Archive; and whilst you’re there, question the London you have grown to know.
