Travellers in the Golden Realm: How Mughal India Connected England to the World

by Lubaaba Al-Azami

'This is a remarkable book. It combines a spellbinding account of the first forgotten half of the English encounter with India with a fascinating history of the Mughal Empire' JOSEPHINE QUINN, author of How the World Made the West

'A compelling, highly readable account of the earliest phase of English presence in India' NANDINI DAS, author of Courting India

When the first English travellers in India encountered an unimaginable superpower, their meetings would change the world.

Before the East India Company and before the British Empire, England was a pariah state. Seeking better fortunes, 16th and 17th century merchants, pilgrims and outcasts ventured to the kingdom of the mighty Mughals, attempting to sell coarse woollen broadcloth along the silk roads; playing courtiers in the Mughal palaces in pursuit of love; or simply touring the sub-continent in search of an elephant to ride.

Into this golden realm went Father Thomas Stephens, a Catholic fleeing his home; the merchant Ralph Fitch looking for jewels in the markets of Delhi; and John Mildenhall, an adventurer revelling in the highwire politics of the Mughal elite. It was a land ruled from the palatial towers by women - the formidable Empress Nur Jahan Begim, the enterprising Queen Mother Maryam al-Zamani, and the intrepid Princess Jahanara Begim. Their collision of worlds helped connect East and West, launching a tempestuous period of globalisation spanning from the Chinese opium trade to the slave trade in the Americas.

Drawing on rich, original sources, Lubaaba Al-Azami traces the origins of a relationship between two nations - one outsider and one superpower - whose cultures remain inextricably linked to this day.

Genres: History, Nonfiction, India

375 pages, Kindle Edition

Published July 18, 2024

Reviews

[Madhulika Liddle · Rating 5 out of 5]

In her book Travellers in the Golden Realm, Lubaaa Al-Azami mentions a mural in St Stephen’s Hall, at London’s Palace of Westminster. The painting imagines the embassy of Sir Thomas Roe to the court of the Mughal Emperor Jahangir in 1615. Painted by William Rothenstein in 1927, the mural shows Roe holding a scroll while standing in front of Jahangir, who is seated on a throne amidst courtiers, soldiers, and attendants. Though Roe stands while Jahangir sits, the implication is clear: they are on an equal footing. It shows in Roe’s stance, and in the fact that the only two servitors bowing deeply bow behind Roe, not in front of Jahangir.

Compare this to a contemporary Mughal painting depicting Roe at Jahangir’s court: Jahangir investing a courtier with a robe of honour watched by Sir Thomas Roe shows the English ambassador tucked away among the rank and file of the court. He is not the centre of attention; he is not the star of the show. The difference between the two depictions is stark.

In Travellers in the Golden Realm, Al-Azami shows how skewed is the common perception (created by centuries of erasure of the truth) that the English and India were on a level footing.

This, as Al-Azami traces the evolution of English travellers to India, is shown to be far from the truth. Even the East India Company, of which this book almost comprises a history, ended up in India accidentally. Their primary target were the spice islands of the Far East; but since thick English broadcloth (about the only thing they could offer in exchange) had no market there, the East India Company—the EIC—turned its gaze India-wards, from where it could source Indian calicos, much prized, to be sold in the Far East for the nutmeg, mace, and cinnamon the English needed.

And yet, as Al-Azami shows, long before the EIC’s arrival in India, there had been other travellers, too, making the long, arduous journey from England to India. Thomas Stephens, for instance, who arrived as part of a Jesuit mission during the reign of Akbar, and spent the rest of his life in India. Or Ralph Fitch, the first Englishman to spend a considerable time travelling across India. There are well-known names here, such as Captain William Hawkins, and ‘the world’s first backpacker’ (as travel writer Ed Peters dubs him), Thomas Coryate. Equally, however, there are lesser-known but equally interesting characters: John Mildenhall, for one, who called himself Elizabeth I’s ambassador without being anything of the sort; or the arrogant and peacocky William Norris, who wrecked an already doomed embassy to the court of Aurangzeb.

While the stories of these varied men who journeyed to Mughal India are fascinating, equally fascinating is the story of how England’s fortunes were changing through this period. How politics across Europe, and as far away as the Ottoman Empire and Persia, were shaping England’s motivations, and how that translated into England’s dealings with India—both through the EIC, and outside of it.

Woven into the story of England and the EIC are other histories. Of the Mughals, their empire so wealthy that England was of no account to them. Of conflicts between the English, the Portuguese and the Dutch over (and in) India. Of women who stood out in a world dominated by men: powerful Mughal women like Noorjehan and Jahanara, of course, but also less famous women like Maryam Khan, an Armenian Christian of the Mughal court; and the Circassian-born Persian, Lady Teresa Sampsonia Sherley—both of whom accompanied their English husbands to England.

And there is the way ‘Mughal India connected England to the World’, the subtitle of this book. Through her exposition of the EIC’s evolution and growth, Al-Azami shows the even darker underbelly of the trade. On the one hand, the EIC’s need for Indian goods compelled them to transport silver from the Americas and Japan to India; on the other, the Indian demand for ivory made them turn to West Africa, from where they soon launched into an extremely lucrative (and reprehensible) slave trade.

The subtitle of this book is perhaps a little inaccurate. While the book does describe how England’s greed for India’s wealth pushed it to forge links with lands around the globe, that comes across more as a secondary element of the book. What dominates is the story of English travellers to India, the EIC, and their interactions with India during the reigns of the first five Mughal emperors.

A meticulously researched, well-written book, Travellers in the Golden Realm is both immensely informative as well as entertaining: a must-read for anybody interested in India’s colonial history.

(From my review for The New Indian Express: https://www.newindianexpress.com/life...)

[Wasen · Rating 4 out of 5]

I got this book during an event with the author, in her inscription she wrote enjoy the journey … and a journey it was.

When immersed in academic writing and research, you gain more than just the facts and expertise of the researcher but the richness of their interests. Lubaaba writes of a history forgotten in time as it doesn't feed conventional narratives. She structures the book around what fascinating British characters wrote of their journeys to Mughal India. We ebb and flow in and out of the lives of these characters, reading through their eyes their experience with different cultures that many of us British students of history have never been exposed to.

Lubaaba also gives space and voice to many notable women of Mughal India we learn about Maryam Khan one of the first Indian noblewomen to travel and live in Britian with her English husband, about Padshah Begum and the heavy influence the zenana had on the emperor. As a side quest, she also gives an intriguing summary of the life of the wife of the English ambassador to Persian Shah Abbas the Great; Sampsonia, another woman of notable influence in both Britain and Persia. What Lubaaba does very well is to illustrate through well-researched individual stories of leading and hidden figures, how international trade in India influenced the British trade across the world. The link to the transatlantic slave trade, trade in the Persian empire/China and much more. She seamlessly brings history to the present, presenting arguments which showcase how British complicity as far as the 1600s shapes the current climate.

The book might be titled and advertised about Mughal India, but what you get is British history accurately revised to depict from their own words the failures and challenges faced by the British in their exploits of the world, not the cleansed version of India during and after Britain as if time only began and ended with the British colonialism. You learn more about the British journey to the East through intricate events which today shape not just the colonised world but also Britain. In the many events that Lubaaba draws from the writings of British sailors and merchants, we learn about the Chinese origins and influence on what is today known as quintessentially a staple of British culture; Tea! What is fascinating is that this tradition and culture only date back to the 16th century and was essentially rejected, to begin with. In this writing, we travel along historical lines which are conveniently missed or forgotten and not taught so, as to not disturb the status quo.

Lubaaba helps the readers understand the impact history has on the present, she unveils connections across the world, linking the Americas, Africa, and East Indies to Europe. It is easy whilst reading this book to forget that it's non-fiction and based on real people and events because they feel foreign to what we believe we know. That's what makes Lubaaba's writing brilliant, it draws you into these stories that you forget it's academic historical writing.

[Anthony Buck · Rating 3 out of 5]

Bits of it were quite interesting, but it was bitty and I couldn't get a handle on the overall sequence of events

[Anand · Rating 2 out of 5]

I found this book painful and frustrating on multiple levels.

The narrative structure is convoluted and erratic. Some of this is clearly down to inexperience. There are signs of amateur and under confident writing, with too many useless intensifying adverbs. For example, the author is oddly obsessed with the word ‘singular’, which she often uses inaccurately. She also uses ridiculous phrases like ‘literary hybridity’ and tired ones like “clapped in irons”, “spare became heir”, and “claim to fame”.

There are also too many strangled and passive sentences, such as “The key reasons for the EIC directing their first two voyages to what was then known as the Spice Islands of the Moluccas were twofold.” and “It is difficult to not conclude that the marriage of X and Y was predicated on a considerable degree of convenience.”

The book reads as an academic thesis, not a flowing narrative. This manifests in minor annoyances like each new character’s year of death being appended to their name, and source material being quoted with Early Modern English spellings which are difficult to read. The bigger problem with this academic style is that it tends toward comprehensiveness at the expense of telling a good story. For example, each chapter names dozens of characters, many whom appear only once.

But even good academic books have structure. This timeline is all over the place. I counted multiple instances where the years will bounce into the future, past, and present on the same page. The author seems to be wedded to a chapter structure that focusses on a - often historically peripheral - character, even if that means having to repeatedly restart from different points in time, or even to repeat information. For example, a chapter on the ambassador Thomas Roe describes how he visited Jahangir’s court, and then states the same information in the very next chapter. Another chapter about the Portuguese presence in India opens with a highly detailed account of a trip that Charles Stuart took to Spain, for reasons that are only tangentially related to Portugal’s India plan, which itself is a tangent to the stated focus of this book. Confusing diversions, unnecessary added characters.

Most importantly, throughout the book, I couldn’t shake constant and far less funny echoes of Sanjeev Bhaskar’s character in Goodness Gracious Me, the old Indian uncle who tries to find the India-first version of everything. ‘Christianity? Indian! Leonardo da Vinci? Indian! Royal Family? Indian!’ Having grown up in India myself, I know many of these real life Sanjeevs. Notwithstanding the subtitle of this book, the author’s thesis seems to be that India deserves credit for its riches 500 years ago, and that England is just a puny supplicant that got lucky.

As someone who’s half Indian, half American, and has now lived in the UK for a decade, I find this perspective pathetic. India should certainly be proud of its rich history and improving present and future, but we must do so while crediting the confidence, enterprise, and success of the British Empire. For all the initial luck of the disintegrating Mughal Empire and the criminal brutality of Clive, Dyer, and others, this puny island ran the world’s largest empire for centuries. That fact deserves respect.