Mark Hailwood

I have often said that writing a blog post can be a good way to disseminate research findings or ideas that you don’t think would sustain a whole article. But sometimes a blog post can act as a seed that slowly germinates into something more substantial, and before you know it you realise that most of your articles started out as blog posts. At which point it feels like the right thing to do is to complete the cycle and blog about those articles, as some kind of superstitious homage – an offering of thanks – to the blog format, in the hope it will provide again.

So, this August saw the publication of my article on ‘Rethinking Literacy in Rural England, 1550-1700’ (open access!) which was the product of several years of musing on a post I wrote on this blog some nine years ago: ‘The Rabble that Cannot Read? Ordinary People’s Literacy in Seventeenth-Century England’. In that post, I wondered whether historians of the early modern period were missing a trick when using people’s signatures to ascertain their literacy skills, with a full signature taken as evidence of full literacy, and anything else – termed a ‘mark’ – as an indicator of illiteracy. It seemed to me that there was a lot of variety in the way people signed off on various legal documents – from full signatures to initials, images of tools, crosses, circles, and a whole host of other squiggles and shapes – that might in themselves reflect hierarchies of reading and writing skills.

Well, since then I have encountered a lot of signed documents as part of my research on the Women’s Work in Rural England project, so I duly collected as many examples of marks and signatures as I could, and in my recent article I subjected them to more sustained analysis. I don’t want to go into too much detail about the findings – I want you to read the article! – but the headline is that I think we can usefully sort sign offs into the following categories:

• Signatures
• Double Initials
• Single Initials
• Icons
• Circles
• Crosses
• Multi-stroke marks
• Single-stroke marks
• Indistinct scrawls

Continue reading →

This post is part of Reflecting on Imtiaz Habib’s Black Lives in the English Archives: An Online Symposium, organised and edited by Rebecca Adusei and Jamie Gemmell. The blog series is introduced here. The blog series was launched on Friday 19 Mary 2023 at the London Metropolitan Archives to tie in with their new ‘Unforgotten Lives’ exhibition.

Jyotsna G. Singh

Jyotsna G. Singh is Professor in the Department of English at Michigan State University.

Special thanks to Rebecca Adusei and Jamie Gemmell for generating “the multi-event symposium, bringing together scholars working at the forefront of early modern Black history and premodern race studies” to discuss the vital importance and continuing legacy of Imitiaz Habib’s path-breaking text. These non-competitive and generative scholarly conversations of the symposium (blogs) will, I hope, serve as a model for future exchanges committed to activism and social change.

Personal Reminiscences

Imtiaz Habib and I were regular SAA (Shakespeare Association of America) friends for many years, from the late 1990s onwards, till his untimely death in 2018. At every meeting we caught up with long chats, which in his native Bengali, one would call Adda – a popular term for “hangout,” or extended conversations among small groups, often verging into cerebral arguments, yet also producing a unique conviviality. We would often discuss the history of the Sub-continent, from the colonial period through the violent partitions and their lingering effects. Imtiaz’s memories stretched a generation before mine and he vividly recalled the birth of Bangladesh in violence, the assassination of Sheikh Mujib-Ur-Rehman and continuing national divisions. Thinking of him today, in that Adda modality, I imagine his happy bemusement and slight disbelief at the belated attention his book is currently receiving. He would be vigorously engaging with each blog post in the Symposium in his honor, approving, challenging, or even interrogating the different perspectives. We would all be enriched by his brilliance and critical rigor, but above all, by his intellectual generosity. Continue reading →

This post is part of Reflecting on Imtiaz Habib’s Black Lives in the English Archives: An Online Symposium, organised and edited by Rebecca Adusei and Jamie Gemmell. The blog series is introduced here. The blog series was launched on Friday 19 Mary 2023 at the London Metropolitan Archives to tie in with their new ‘Unforgotten Lives’ exhibition.

Rebecca Adusei

Rebecca Adusei is a PhD student at King’s College, London. Her project locates and analyses depictions and characterisations of Sub-Saharan Africans in Early Modern literature and drama. Trained in Literary Studies, Rebecca’s research has become increasingly interdisciplinary. Drawing together Literary Studies and History, she looks at Black individuals in the early modern archives and scrutinises their characterisations in literature. Rebecca runs a book blog on Instagram where she sometimes discusses the Early Modern period. She has previously conducted tours for KCL’s Visible Skin Project. She has spoken at the London Shakespeare Centre and the Shakespeare’s Globe’s Home and Early Modernity Conference. In 2021/2022, she was awarded the SRS Scholars of Colour Bursary for her work in Early Modern Studies.

Studying the Black Presence in early modern texts and contextually has been the bedrock of my research for the last six years. It all started in a Shakespeare lecture back when I was an undergraduate student. We were studying Titus Andronicus and discussing the character, Aaron. I came to the lecture bristling with ideas. I was especially taken with the language that was used in the tragedy. I found the epithet ‘Moor’ quite interesting; it struck me that Aaron’s race became an intrinsic part of his characterisation and how others in the text sought to weaponize his race and demonize him for it. An example of this is when Marcus dubs him a ‘black ill-favoured fly’.[1] Whilst I did not have the vocabulary to eloquently articulate my ideas, I was aware what these examples were evidence of: anti-Black racism. However, whilst we discussed Aaron in the lecture and the subsequent seminar, I was shocked that no one picked up on these ideas, that led me to question whether I was wrong in my examinations. This all changed in 2018 when I read Imtiaz Habib’s Black Lives in the English Archives, 1500-1677: Imprints of the Invisible.  

Reading Habib’s work made me feel vindicated and valid. In the opening sections of Black Lives Habib writes that ‘scholars have been unable to regard historical blacks in the reigns of Elizabeth and her immediate successors as anything more than stray figures in an “anecdotal” landscape, too accidental and solitary to be even a historical statistic.’[2] I was one of these scholars. The lack of critical engagement and discussion of the Black Presence contextually in early modern England and in early modern texts in my undergraduate class made me second guess my own beliefs. It made me question what I saw right in front of my eyes: blatant examples of anti-Black racism. However, reading Black Lives gave me the vocabulary, strength and confidence I so desperately needed to pursue this important work. Countering the long established idea in early modern discourse that there were no Black people in early modern England, Habib also shows that ‘[…] obscure, truncated and largely inaccessible documentary records, which are only now becoming fully available, paint a very different picture about the size, continuity and historical seriousness of the black presence in England in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, well before English black populations become known through the transatlantic slave trade.’[3] Continue reading →

This post is part of Reflecting on Imtiaz Habib’s Black Lives in the English Archives: An Online Symposium, organised and edited by Rebecca Adusei and Jamie Gemmell. The blog series is introduced here. The blog series was launched on Friday 19 Mary 2023 at the London Metropolitan Archives to tie in with their new ‘Unforgotten Lives’ exhibition.

Jamie Gemmell

Jamie Gemmell is a historian of race and power in the early modern Anglo-Atlantic World. He is an AHRC-funded History PhD student at King’s College, London. His project traces how London life changed in the wake of Atlantic slavery in the late seventeenth century. His project is titled “Reckoning with Race in Early Modern London, 1655-1712”. Jamie is Assistant Editor at the University of Maryland’s Slavery, Law, and Power Project and Project Director of jamesknightjamaica.com. He is former Editor-in-Chief of Retrospect Journal, where he co-edited “Race in Retrospective” with RACE.ED.

For Imtiaz Habib, the parish register “is the predominant source for [black] records” and “the most inclusive.” While these lists of baptisms, marriages, and burials were the result of Tudor dictate, “such dictates specified only purpose, not format”. As a result, the register’s format reflects “the non-standard orthography and improvisational documentary habits of the local clerical record keeper”.[1] In their randomness, they offer proximity to everyday social relations.[2] As argued by David Postles and Alexandra Shepard, the very ubiquity of these kinds of record permit an understanding of the early modern English structure that begins with social relations.[3] Habib skilfully uses the records to connect the growing numbers of encumbered Black lives, and their geographies, in the later seventeenth-century London registers to the emergence of empire and racial slavery.  Specifically, the registers add further context to the 1677 Butts v. Penny decision, a King’s Bench precedent that legalised racial slavery across England and its emerging empire, by revealing how social practices preceded, and necessitated, legal clarity from above.[4]

Here, I wish to build on Habib’s use of the London parish registers and present them as sites of contestation.[5] Since the publication of Habib’s Black Lives it has become easier to access these records via the London Metropolitan Archives’ “Switching the Lens” (StL) project. The project has databased and digitised the London Anglican parish registers that list people of African, Caribbean, Asian, and Indigenous American heritage between 1561 and 1840. While some work has been done on the individual lives revealed by StL, the dataset remains underused.[6] Between 1660 and 1730, the period of my research, there are 563 “black citations” within the StL dataset. Most of them are, relatively, standard. They note the date of the event (baptism, marriage, or burial), the individual’s name, and, in the cases examined here, include some kind of racial signifier. Continue reading →

This post is part of Reflecting on Imtiaz Habib’s Black Lives in the English Archives: An Online Symposium, organised and edited by Rebecca Adusei and Jamie Gemmell. The blog series is introduced here. The blog series was launched on Friday 19 Mary 2023 at the London Metropolitan Archives to tie in with their new ‘Unforgotten Lives’ exhibition.

Montaz Marché

Montaz Marché is a writer, historian, presenter, and PhD researcher at the University of Birmingham. Her research focuses on early modern Black British history. Recently, her research has explored eighteenth-century gender, racial politics, and experiences of Black women in London. Her PhD thesis is titled ‘Mapping the Dark and Feminine: A Population of Black Women in Eighteenth-Century London’. She sits on the History Matters Online Journal editorial board and is the Artistic Director of the Ruckus Theatre Company, alongside regular work in historical public engagement and the media and television industry. 

Habib’s sentiment that this research into collecting Black lives is “a daunting task” was unsurprisingly accurate. But Habib exposed what is possible regarding the archives’ statistical and qualitative analysis of the Black population. His work made an essential intervention in British early modern historiography. He set a solid foundation of archival evidence of Black people in English archives and proved what details and cultural contexts could be revealed in these references, despite their brevity. Some examples include Black people’s religious practices, social interactions, and roles in English society. He aligns the Black lives he found in the archives to early modern global trends, such as the development of racial ideologies and chattel slavery, contextualising Black experiences and countering the narratives that Black people were “passive” in early modern England. What sets Habib apart is his emphasis on the research process alongside evidence and conclusions. This level of articulated nuance, investigation, and contextualisation about Black lives in Britain, rationalised with a detailed methodology, an understanding of the archive’s biases and its influence on our historical consciousness, was, in 2008, new and, as we would discover, long overdue to the field. As a historian focusing mostly on the eighteenth century, Habib’s research was a learning curve but also challenged me to take ideas of Black thought and agency one step further than his research. I reflect here on how Habib’s work helped me think about gender and race in the early modern period and how far the field has come.

This post is part of Reflecting on Imtiaz Habib’s Black Lives in the English Archives: An Online Symposium, organised and edited by Rebecca Adusei and Jamie Gemmell. The blog series is introduced here. The blog series was launched on Friday 19 Mary 2023 at the London Metropolitan Archives to tie in with their new ‘Unforgotten Lives’ exhibition.

Amber Burbidge

Amber Burbidge is a PhD researcher in the department of History at the European University Institute, Florence, whose research reassesses representations of race and gender in early modern material culture in European geographies, such as France and Britain, between 1650 -1800. Her research develops from the Early Modern History MA she completed at the University of York which looked at the Black female presence in portraiture, prints, and porcelain ‘blackamoor’ ornaments. She also works as a co-convenor for the Visual and Material Culture working group, as well as volunteering as an administrator for the Decolonising Initiative.

Habib’s Black Lives is monumental in its thorough rereading of archival material and its early establishment of the Black British presence. The monograph takes the form of both a methodological guide, leading readers through an incremental progression of archival findings, as well as providing a database-like appendix which holds 448 itemised ‘black citations’. Its methodologies and content have therefore been used by historians such as Kaufmann, Olusoga, Spicer and Chater, with its vast database proving to be a great inspiration for contemporary historians of the field. This post will critically assess and reflect on Habib’s work for historians who are thinking through gender studies and intersectional frameworks, considering how Black Lives is still relevant in contemporary historical gender studies.

Black history has been critiqued by Black feminist historians, such as Hooks, Hull, Bell-Scott and Smith, for its ignorance towards Black women. This is not completely the case with Habib, as his research is inclusive of a female presence. The issue, nevertheless, is that he writes with limited engagement on gender and with little recognition of the differences that women faced. In his first chapter he includes just one sentence on the issue mentioning that “of the 16 individuals of color named, three are women and 13 are men”, highlighting the gender imbalance, but without questioning why, or what this could mean for Black women. In his second chapter, where gender is addressed, it is still inadequate considering the level of research completed. He recognises that “black women themselves remain muted in a history that cannot speak”, however, he finishes his participation in the subject here, falling short of meaningful questioning or comprehensive intersectional research on the gendered experiences of British Black women. Furthermore, where he analyses numerical data, gender appears to be an afterthought, rather than a genuine academic question, as in comparison to his other data assessments gender takes up little space within the discussions. He questions if “the dearth of black women might be the reflection of an English preference for labor-capable black males”, yet again seems to leave this question floating without addressing the issue further.

This post is part of Reflecting on Imtiaz Habib’s Black Lives in the English Archives: An Online Symposium, organised and edited by Rebecca Adusei and Jamie Gemmell. The blog series is introduced here. The blog series was launched on Friday 19 Mary 2023 at the London Metropolitan Archives to tie in with their new ‘Unforgotten Lives’ exhibition.

Hannah Crawforth

Hannah Crawforth is a Reader in Early Modern Literature in the English Department at King’s College London. She has published extensively on poetry both modern and early modern.

Black Lives in the English Archives seeks to make visible those whose presence in early modern England has been overlooked. It does so using a methodology that Imtiaz Habib also believes has been overlooked as a result of what he calls “the triumph of theory in a poststructuralist age”.^[1]  His painstaking excavation of “obscure, truncated and largely inaccessible documentary records” and magisterial synthesis of these archival findings into a compelling narrative, is an incontrovertible argument for the importance of the archive, as well as a field-changing account of the Black lives we encounter there.^[2] “Scattered across the four quadrants of London” and beyond, drawn from fragments of “legal, taxation, medical and civic archives is the varied impress of black working lives,” Habib writes in his introduction. The stories that emerge from the archive are the hard facts that counteract the lingering falsehood that “there were no actual people of color in early modern England; references to them in popular media of the time are metaphoric; and the period is race-innocent.”^[3] But I call them stories because I am interested here in the ways in which Habib draws upon his extensive archival research to narrativize the lives of the Black working classes that his work uncovers. Habib’s book is powerful not just in the extraordinary body of evidence he amasses, but also in the way he marshals these archival discoveries, carefully assembling the fragments into narratives that leap off the page, bringing the lives they recount to life.

It is this idea of reanimating the archive, and the Black lives Habib locates within it, that inspires the work of the poet Caroline Randall Williams, which I have been teaching and writing about. Williams’ Lucy Negro, Redux, published in 2019 with the subtitle: The Bard, a Book, and a Ballet, tells the story of Shakespeare’s Sonnets from the point of view of a figure from the archives who has been called “Lucy Negro”, and whom some have seen as a possible model for the so-called “Dark Lady” to whom the later part of the sequence seems to be addressed. “In August of 2012, I got it into my head that Shakespeare had a black lover,” Williams writes, “and that this woman was the subject of sonnets 127 to 154.”^[4] Lucy Negro, Redux intersperses Williams’ poems about Lucy with a prose account telling the story of her meeting with English professor Duncan Salkeld and, consequently, with the figure of “Black Luce” in the archives of Bridewell prison. Interweaving archival narrative with original poems Williams recovers and reclaims an overlooked Black life from the English archive in ways that resonate with Habib’s own critical and creative project.^[5] Continue reading →