The depiction of the Nativity in the Gospel of Luke. (Gospels. Egypt, 1663. Or 1316, f 117r)

Many of us at the British Library are returning from continuous, or not-so-continuous, holiday breaks. For our colleagues and friends who belong to Eastern and Oriental Orthodox Churches, however, the celebration is just about to begin. 7 January is the Gregorian date of Christmas feasts for many such denominations (6 January for the Armenian Apostolic Church, and 25 December for some Syriac Orthodox Churches). This is actually 25 December, but according to the Julian calendar. To mark this feast, I’ve put together some images of the Nativity and following events from two Coptic Bibles cared for by the Library, Or 1316 and Or 1317.

One of the joys of working with the Library’s collection is the opportunity to meet many different researchers and scholars. In the last two years, it is through such individuals that I have had the great pleasure of learning more about our Coptic and Christian Arabic manuscripts and their artwork. Dr. Miriam Hjälm of St. Ignatios College, for example, has been gracious in sharing with us her catalogue records of the Library’s Christian Arabic Bibles and theological tracts, soon to be published as a physical book (she wrote a blog about her project in 2020). Dr. Heather Badamo of UCSB, whose book Saint George Between Empires makes very clear the interaction of Christian artistic traditions across the Eastern Mediterranean, was very forthcoming in introducing me to the beautiful evidence of the Coptic Renaissance in our collection. And His Grace Archbishop Angaelos of the Coptic Orthodox Church in London helped me to grasp – with great patience and understanding – the profound connections between forms of manuscripts, texts, colours, decorations and the foundational beliefs and practices of the Church. To them, and many others, I am exceptionally grateful for their support.

The Apostle Mark, founder of the Coptic Orthodox Church, pictured writing his Gospel in Arabic. (Gospels. Egypt, 1663. Or 1316, f 67v)

As His Grace Archbishop Angaelos writes in Studies in Coptic Culture, ‘the Coptic Orthodox Church is one of the most ancient churches in the world, founded in the first century in Egypt by St. Mark the Apostle.’ As a religious institution with a long and venerable tradition, it is only to be expected that the visual, rhetorical and musical arts of the Coptic faithful bear witness to great creativity and change. Sometimes internal dynamics have induced these, and other times dialogue with external traditions has been a motor of change. In this post, I will turn to two illustrated Gospels that highlight the evolution of Coptic art during the Ottoman period, a time of increasing contact with Western European traditions.

Both Or 1316 and Or 1317 are Copto-Arabic New Testaments acquired by the British Museum in 1875 from Sir Charles A. Murray, the British Consul-General in Egypt between 1846 and 1853. Murray is a well-known figure for those who make use of the Library’s Arabic and Persian holdings. During his time in Cairo, he was particularly keen on collecting Christian materials, which, evidently, included Coptic and Copto-Arabic works.

The opening of the Gospel of Matthew with its frontispiece. (Gospels. Egypt, 1663. Or 1316, f 3r)

Or 1316 is dated 1379 Anno Martyrum (the Coptic Church, having suffered a great number of martyrdoms under the reign of Emperor Diocletian, begins its calendar in 284 CE, the first year of his reign), or 1663 CE. The description of this work is far longer in Rieu’s Supplement to the Catalogue of the Arabic manuscripts in the British Museum than in Crum’s Catalogue of the Coptic manuscripts in the British Museum, where the latter describes the illustrations in the work as ‘gaudily coloured and gilded.’ From Rieu’s description, we learn that Abū’l-munā ibn Nasīm al-Naqqāsh not only copied the volume, but that he also drew the images based on European and Indian copies (‘من نسخ افرنجي وهندي’).

The richly embroidered cover of Or 1317. (Gospels. Egypt, 1814. Or 1317) 

Or 1317 is a later copy of the Gospels, completed on 13 Tot 1531 AM (22 September 1814 CE), containing a complete text of the New Testament. This work does not include the name of the copyist or the illustrator, but it does have beautifully embroidered covers featuring silver threads and gold frames, a reminder that decoration and embellishment of manuscripts need not be a matter for calligraphers and painters alone. Crum calls the illustrations here ‘rough,’ but he does highlight that the work contains ‘the signature of Peter, the 109^th patriarch.’

The dedication page, or waqf statement, found at the end of the manuscript. (Gospels. Egypt, 1814. Or 1317, f 410v) 

Both Or 1316 and Or 1317 contain information about their ownership in Egypt itself. The former was gifted by al-Mu’allim [Cantor] Luṭf Allāh Abū Yūsuf to the Church of Our Lady and St. George in 1449 AM (1733 CE), and above the illustrations we see short statements of the waqfiyah: “وقف على بيعة الست السيدة بحارة الروم السفلي” or “وقف على كنيسة الست السيدة وماري جرجس بحارة الروم عوض يا رب من له تعب”. Or 1317 ‘was gifted by Petrus Archiereus to the Patriarch’s seat’ in 1532 AM (1816 CE). Rieu’s transcription of the dedication fails to mention its continuation, which condemns anyone who removes the volume from its waqf – presumably Murray as well as the seller – to eternal exclusion from God’s grace (‘وكلمن اخرجه يكون محروم مقطوع بكلمة الله ولا يكون له خلاص لا في هذه الدنيا ولا في الاخرى’); a similar formula is found in Or 1316. Hany N. Takla of the St. Shenouda the Archimandrite Coptic Society has explored why such dispersals might have occurred from the Monastery of St. Antony (including Or 1001, Or 1319 and Or 1325, the latter two acquired from Murray) in his chapter ‘The Manuscripts of the Monastery of St. Antony Preserved Abroad.’ Many of these reasons give us ample food for thought about the motivation for Or 1316 and Or 1317’s separation from their places of dedication.

But we are getting away from the main purpose of this post: images of the story of Jesus’ birth. Both volumes contain pictorial accounts of the Annunciation; Mary’s visit to her cousin Elizabeth (the mother of John the Baptist); the visit of the Magi; and Jesus' presentation in the Temple. Unlike the printed Armenian Gospels featured two weeks ago, there are no images of Jesus’ circumcision. As the birth of Jesus is mentioned in both the Gospel of Matthew (1:16-2:23) and Luke (Chapters 1:26-2:40), multiple opportunities present themselves to any illustrator of the story.

The Archangel Gabriel visits the Virgin Mary with tidings of her impending miraculous pregnancy. (Gospels. Egypt, 1663. Or 1316, f 114v)

Or 1316 starts with the above image of the Archangel Gabriel appearing to the Virgin in the Gospel of Luke. The Holy Messenger is informing her that she will bear the Son of God; the Holy Spirit, a dove, is bright and shining at the top of the composition. Rieu and Crum might not have thought such images worthy of praise for their artistry, but I find it filled with the light and joy represented by Gabriel’s message.

Gabriel visits Mary to inform her of Jesus' impending birth. (Gospels. Egypt, 1814. Or 1317, f 205v)

It's interesting to note that Mary is depicted in red robes in Or 1316, the earlier of the two manuscripts, while she wears her more familiar blue robes elsewhere in the volume. These are visible in the depiction of the Annunciation in Or 1317 (Gospel of Matthew). Here, similar to the earlier work, the Archangel bears flowers for the Virgin, who does not have a book open. As I've learned from Dr. Alin Suciu's informative posts, the portrayal of Mary reading during the Annunciation is a element of Western Christian imagery absent from most Orthodox iconography. The painter’s technique does not embrace the depiction of depth and facial expression common in Coptic icons, but they do manage to convey the positivity of the Annunciation, as well as the serenity with which Mary accepts this unfathomable news.

Mary embraces her cousin Elizabeth, both pregnant through Divine intervention. (Gospels. Egypt, 1663. Or 1316, f 115r)

Both volumes depict Mary’s meeting with her cousin Elizabeth, the mother of John the Baptist and another female figure whose pregnancy, while not virginal, is announced by Gabriel. The episode is one in which Mary’s embrace of Elizabeth fills her with the Holy Spirit. Such good tidings are again communicated in the warmth of the hug in Or 1317 and Elizabeth’s kiss on Mary’s cheek in Or 1316. Although the illustration in the latter work is partially damaged, it’s very easy to see the composer’s use of grids and colour intensity rather than highlighting to denote depth.

Mary and her cousin Elizabeth embrace. (Gospels. Egypt, 1814. Or 1317, f 207r)

One of the women’s robes in this composition in Or 1317 is green and the other's is burgundy; while Mary's clothing in Or 1316 is shades of burgundy with gold highlights. Colours in Coptic iconography hold deeper meanings (as they do in most religious art). Traditionally, the use of green in Orthodox iconography denotes 'where life begins (for example, in the scenes of the Nativity of Jesus Christ and the Annunciation),' as explained on Russian Icon. Dr. Helen Moussa of the Canadian Society for Coptic Studies, making use of the scholarship of 20th century painter Isaac Fannous, has provided a brief look at how such ideas continued or transformed for the neo-Coptic icon painters of the last century. While anachronistic to apply to Or 1316 and Or 1317, they do provide an interesting counterpoint to traditional interpretations. Blue is Mary’s colour, as it represents ‘the sky’ and alludes to Mary’s denomination as the ‘Second Heaven.’ ‘Red is the color of blood, … and of the humanity and glory of Christ.’ Green, however, has a complicated representation for neo-Coptic painters, signifying both evildoers (Satan, Judas) as well as life, largely vegetal, as explained above.

The arrival of the Magi in the Gospel of Matthew, along with servants. (Gospels. Egypt, 1663. Or 1316, f 5r)

Or 1316 includes an image of the manger featuring Mary, Joseph and the baby Christ only (with, presumably, the shepherds in the far background, and animals close at hand) in the Gospel of Luke (at the start of this blog), while the Gospel of Matthew includes a more complex and richly coloured composition. Here, Mary, wearing green, with Joseph behind her, presents Baby Jesus as he grasps at one of the gifts borne by the Magi. Two of them have faces of silver and are followed by a servant (?) in green robes. On the far left of the scene are two armed servants of the Magi. The composition is fascinating for the contrast it provides with the one at the start of the post. Depth here is denoted with highlighting, as in icons, as well as with more intensive colours. But the architecture of the manger, the golden lamps, and the clothing of the personalities are all more reminiscent of West Asian works than Renaissance European ones (like the images in the Gospel of Luke). Was the ‘Indian’ source actually a West Asian manuscript?

Mary and Joseph, along with the Infant Jesus and the Midwife. (Gospels. Egypt, 1814. Or 1317, f 211v)

Or 1317 holds two images of births, but only one of these is of Jesus. The Gospel of Luke contains a pictorial account of John the Baptist’s birth and of his father, Zechariah, asking for something on which to write John’s name, thereby releasing Zechariah from his speechlessness (Luke 1:62-64). The Nativity itself is found two folios later. Here, the Magi do not feature, and it is just Mary (clothed in blue), Joseph, the Infant Jesus and the Midwife present at Jesus’ birth. Two angels peer down at the infant as a beam of light descends to him from a star. Although the Arabic text states that the family is in a manger (مذود), because of a lack of space in the inn (مبيت), a lack of any sort of architectural elements makes it difficult to determine where this scene might have taken place, were it not for the description.

Jesus presented to Simeon in the Temple. (Gospels. Egypt, 1814. Or 1317, f 212r)

Both works contain a painting of the presentation of Jesus in the temple. Or 1317 shows the scene with parents to the left and Saint Simeon reaching out to the Christ child on the right. The episode is identifiable not only by the text around it, but by also by the two turtle doves craning their necks in Joseph’s arms. Jesus looks somewhat larger than a 40-day old infant. What is evident, despite the minimalist detail of the faces, is Simeon’s peace and happiness, having been told by God that he would not die before meeting the Lord’s Messiah (Luke 2:25-34).

The presentation of Jesus, 'according to Moses' law,' before Simeon, a Priest, and two boys. (Gospels. Egypt, 1663. Or 1316, f 118v)

In Or 1316, the composition is far more complex, with Mary back in burgundy and pink robes. Here she presents Jesus to a larger group, including Simeon as well as the Priest at the Temple flanked by two young men bearing tapers. It’s interesting to note that there are similarities to the depiction of the circumcision in the Armenian Gospels mentioned above, which included imagery and elements more familiar to Western European illustrations of the presentation/circumcision than Orthodox ones.

Jesus, Mary, Joseph and Salome flee for Egypt at the top of the page, while the bottom represents the massacre of the innocents. (Gospels. Egypt, 1663. Or 1316, f 5v)

In addition to Jesus’ presentation, Or 1316 provides us with one final illustration from Jesus' childhood: Mary (again in blue) and Jesus atop a donkey on the road from Bethlehem to Egypt, accompanied by Joseph and Salome, fleeing Herod’s threat to murder the newborn Saviour. This is once again from the Gospel of Matthew and the buildings in the background bear clear affinities with Byzantine-style churches. This would, of course, make sense: an anachronistic mapping of pre-Ottoman, or even pre-Mamluk Christian West Asia onto the life of Jesus. But it points, once again, to the idea that the artist’s source was not Indian, but rather from somewhere closer afield.

Those who are eagle-eyed might have noticed Arabic inscriptions on the images in Or 1316. It isn’t uncommon to see illustrated Gospel manuscripts from West Asia and Egypt where there are little crib notes to help the uninitiated identify images associated with the various actors in Gospel episodes. Although the Coptic text clearly has pride of place in the manuscripts, these guides were necessarily done in Arabic, which had largely replaced Coptic as a language of daily life by the second millennium.

Rieu and Crum might have been dismissive of the quality of the images, but such criticism is unfair. There are myriad reasons why these might not have been mirrors of the height of icon production or of the work of Italian Renaissance painters, the cost of artists and materials among them. But, in the end, they do their job. They communicate, in their own ways, the emotion and spiritual joy of the Nativity. And with it, we wish all those who celebrate كل سنة وانتم طيبون!

Dr. Michael Erdman, Head, Middle East and Central Asia

Further Reading

Angaelos, H.G., ‘The Coptic Orthodox Church: A Historical Perspective in the Modern-day World,’ in ed. Mariam Ayad, Studies in Coptic Culture: Transmission and Interaction (Cairo: The American University in Cairo Press, 2016), pp. xi-xii. (YP.2020.a.2464)

Armanios, Febe, Coptic Christianity in Ottoman Egypt (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011). (YC.2011.a.5099)

Ayad, Mariam G., ed. Coptic Culture: Past, Present and Future (Stevenage, UK: Coptic Orthodox Church Centre, 2012). (YP.2013.b.294)

Ayad, Mariam G., ‘Introduction,’ in ed. Mariam Ayad, Studies in Coptic Culture: Transmission and Interaction (Cairo: The American University in Cairo Press, 2016), pp. 1-9. (YP.2020.a.2464)

Badamo, Heather, Saint George between empires: image and encounter in the medieval East (Pennsylvania: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2023).

Farag, Lois M., ed., The Coptic Christian Heritage: History, Faith and Culture (New York: Routledge, 2014). (YC.2014.a.2834)

Guirguis, Magdi, An Armenian Artist in Ottoman Cairo: Yuhanna al-Armani and His Coptic Icons (Cairo: American University in Cairo Press, 2008). (m09/.10083)

Kashouh, Hikmat, The Arabic Versions of the Gospels: The Manuscripts and their Families (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2011).

Moussa, Helene, ‘Coptic Icons: Expressions of Social Agency and Coptic Identity,’ in ed. Mariam Ayad, Studies in Coptic Culture: Transmission and Interaction (Cairo: The American University in Cairo Press, 2016), pp. 155-172. (YP.2020.a.2464)

Takla, Hany N., ‘The Manuscripts of the Monastery of St. Antony Preserved Abroad,’ in ed. Gawdat Gabra, Christianity and Monasticism in Alexandria and the Egyptian Deserts (Cairo: The American University in Cairo Press, 2020).

The Virgin Mary with Baby Jesus in her lap surrounded by the Magi and shepherds. (Աստուածաշունչ հնոց եւ նորոց կտականարաց մերեն պարունակօղ շարակարգութեամբ նախնեացն մերոց եւ ճմարտասիրաց թարգմանչաց (Amsterdam: St. Ējmiatsin and St. Sargis, 1666-68), p. 501). (Or.70.bb.2).

With Christmas almost upon us, it’s time for the Curatorial Team in the Asian and African Collections to put down our tools and enjoy a well-deserved break. Before we go, however, I’d like to leave you with a few visual treats to enjoy over your own holiday slow-down. 

After working with our Armenian materials for much of the last year, I decided to hunt among them for a few images of the Nativity. Thanks to the monumental work of our tireless and exceptionally committed former Lead Curator for the Christian Orient, Dr. Vrej Nersessian, information about these is never out of hand. His A Catalogue of the Armenian Manuscripts in the British Library and Catalogue of Early Armenian Books, 1512-1850, together with Conybeare’s 1913 Catalogue, ensure the discoverability of nearly all the early Armenian textual heritage in the British Library.  

In October of this year, I visited the National Library of Armenia’s Printing Museum. This was followed by a trip to Rome and a presentation by Dr. Erin Piñón, now a Postdoctoral Fellow at the Kunsthistorisches in Florenz and expert on early Armenian printing. Both have inspired me to seek out images in early printed Armenian Bibles, rather than manuscripts. Armenian printing in Europe is closely bound up with the Mkhitarists, an Armenian Catholic order based in San Lazzaro degli Armeni, Venice and Vienna. And, as Armenian Catholics celebrate Christmas on 25 December, while the Apostolic Church marks it on 6 January, it seemed fitting to use a printed work for your December delight.  

An image of the printer Abgar T'okhatets'i meeting the Doge of Venice. (Սաղմոս ի Դագիթ, (Venice: Abgar T'okhatets'i, 1565-66), f. 59r). (Or.70.a.9)

The oldest Armenian printed book in the British Library is an imperfect copy of Psalter printed at Venice by Abgar T’okhatets’i (Աբգար Թոխաթեցի) in 1565. It doesn’t include images of the Nativity, but it does have this delightful woodcut illustration of his reception by the Doge of Venice.  

Gabriel arrives on a cloud to inform Mary that she will conceive the Messiah. (Աստուածաշունչ հնոց եւ նորոց կտականարաց մերեն պարունակօղ շարակարգութեամբ նախնեացն մերոց եւ ճմարտասիրաց թարգմանչաց (Amsterdam: St. Ējmiatsin and St. Sargis, 1666-68), p. 499). (Or.70.bb.2).

For a view on the Annunciation and the birth of Christ, we must turn to something slightly younger and more northern. This is the first printed Armenian Bible, including the New Testament, printed at St. Ējmiatsin and St. Sarkis in Amsterdam in 1666-68. Father Vrej’s Catalogue states that the text is based on a manuscript dated 1295 CE, adjusted to the Latin Vulgate and edited by Oskan Vardapet Erewants’i (Ոսկան Երևանցի), who was also its printer. It is from Oskan’s name that this Bible is occasionally called the Oskan Bible. It contains a fair number of woodcut illustrations by Christoffel van Sichem II, including one of the Nativity (at the top of this post), as well as others of the Annunciation just above this paragraph and of the Circumcision of Jesus below. The first two prints can also be found in Dutch-language works, as seen in the collection of the University of Wisconsin Milwaukee (#12 and #1 respectively). The letters in the images of the Annunciation and Jesus in the Temple should correspond to legends that are present in the Dutch texts.  

The mohel bends over Jesus to circumcize him in a scene that become much more common in Western European Christian art throughout the Renaissance, but was largely absent from Armenian Christian art. (Աստուածաշունչ հնոց եւ նորոց կտականարաց մերեն պարունակօղ շարակարգութեամբ նախնեացն մերոց եւ ճմարտասիրաց թարգմանչաց (Amsterdam: St. Ējmiatsin and St. Sargis, 1666-68), p. 502). (Or.70.bb.2)

The Circumcision scene very obviously mirrors other northern European renditions, such as this one by Flemish engraver Hieronymus Wierix in the Rijksmuseum, and this by Flemish printmaker Jan Matheus, also in the Rijksmuseum. Both have a candelabra above the Christ Child, and the circumcision is being performed by a mohel or other professional in a temple, not at home. The clothing of those around Christ is modelled more on Northern European patterns than anything that the artists might have imagined was in style in Palestine 1600 years earlier. Lastly, the inclusion of the IHS Christogram and heart with three nails (those that pierced Christ on the Cross) are the emblems of the Jesuits, a Catholic order founded in 1540 and influential on Christian communities in West Asia, including one particular printer we’ll meet below. 

The front board of the 1666 Bible showing the Crucifixion scene and its elaborate metal clasps. (Աստուածաշունչ հնոց եւ նորոց կտականարաց մերեն պարունակօղ շարակարգութեամբ նախնեացն մերոց եւ ճմարտասիրաց թարգմանչաց (Amsterdam: St. Ējmiatsin and St. Sargis, 1666-68). (Or.70.bb.2)

The illustrations in this Bible are not the only eye-catching component of the work. The Cambridge holding has only a plain calf binding, while the Library of Congress holding is also bereft of its original binding. The British Library’s copy of the work, however, has a beautiful leather binding with metal decoration and clasps, with one side showing the Crucifixion and the back an image of the Virgin Mary. 

The title page of the 1705 Istanbul printing of the Bible in Armenian. The stamp at the bottom of the page is of the Mkhitarean Library in Vienna. (Աստուածաշունչ Հնոց եւ Նորոց Կտակարանաց ներպարունակօղ շարակարգութեամբ նախնեաց մերոց եւ ճշմարտասիրաց թարգմանչաց (Istanbul: Petros Latinats'i, 1705). (17021.b.7)

This text was again printed in Istanbul in 1705 by Petros Latinats’i (Պետրոս Լատինացի), a student of Oskan’s. Copies of the 1705 Bible are relatively rare compared to some of the other editions, but we are lucky to care for one at the British Library. Latinats’i’s text mirrors that of the Amsterdam edition, but our copy does not include the same set of engravings. The Nativity scene is notably absent, although it does have a wonderful title page.  

Despite the inclusion of elements of the Latin Vulgate in this text, it is not necessarily a Catholic work. The redactions were necessary, as described in a blog about the Oskan Bible, to win the support of secular and (Catholic) religious authorities and censors. Indeed, the Armenian Rite is used by both members of the Armenian Apostolic Church (who are in communion with the Coptic Orthodox Church, the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church, the Syriac Orthodox Church, and various other denominations often called Oriental Orthodox) and the Armenian Catholic Church. This latter group reflects the influence of Latin Crusaders in the Kingdom of Cilicia and successive, deepening contacts with the Latin Catholic Church in Rome. And when it comes to (sectarian) printing history, the key date is not the Council of Chalcedon in 451 CE, when the Armenian Church and other Oriental Orthodox Churches ended communion with the rest of Christianity, but 1773, when some Mkhitarists split from the Apostolic Church but remained in communion with Rome.   

The Nativity scene as found in the 1733 print of the Armenian translation of the Bible completed in Venice by Mkhit'ar Sebastats'i. (Աստուածաշունչ Գիրք Հնոց եւ Նորոց Կտակարանաց, աշխատասիրութեամբ Մխիթարայ Սէբաստացւոյ (Venice: Anton Bortoli, 1733-35), p. 932). (17021.d.3)

We’re getting ahead of ourselves. In 1701, an enterprising Armenian Catholic monk, Mkhit’ar Sebastats’i (Մխիթար Սեբաստացի), founded the Mkhitarist Congregation in Istanbul, gradually moving it to the Peloponnese and then San Lazzaro. In addition to his religious duties, Mkhit’ar took up the task of regularizing the Armenian language and printing religious materials. Among his masterpieces is his Bible, printed in Venice in 1733-35 (the topic of Dr. Piñón’s lecture), a re-edition of the 1666-68 Oskan Bible. It too includes a small woodcut of the Nativity, showing Baby Jesus atop the Virgin’s knee receiving gifts from the Magi. A bright star shines down on them, with Joseph tucked in the background and the shepherds even further removed. What I find most interesting is that the manger seems to be an afterthought. A thatched roof is there, but it’s partially obscured by the masonry of some now partially-ruined Classical structure, a stone column beside Mary. 

The Virgin Mary with the Christ Child asleep in a basinet as a shepherd adores him. (Sebastats'i, Mkhit'ar, Գիրք Քրիստոնէական վարդապետութեան, ընդ որում եւ երգք տաղից առադրին (Venice: Anton Bortoli, 1771), p. 84). (17026.c.13)

Religious practice, Catholicism included, relies on more than one text. As important as the Old and New Testaments might be, a host of other works – lectionaries, missals, catechisms, not to mention Church law and philosophical texts, plus religiously themed poetry – all impart knowledge and wisdom on the practices and beliefs of the Church. They strengthen believers’ faith and provide common bonds to keep the congregation whole. Armenian Catholic printers, whether Mkhit’ar or his successors, did turn their hands to such texts as well. The last image that I’ll leave you with is one less common in terms of traditional Nativity imagery. Nonetheless, it seems to me a particularly poignant image of tranquility between the Virgin, the Holy Infant, and a host of other actors. Taken from a catechism produced by the Mkhit’arists in Venice in 1771, just two years before their schism, it depicts Mary rocking the Baby Jesus in a basinet. Cherubim are playing music and showering mother and child with flowers while a shepherd boy, his crook in hand, and a tiny lamb laying by his feet, pays his respects to the newborn king. Mary puts her finger to her lips, reminding the visitor that Baby Jesus, too, needs his rest.  

It’s an image that reminds us all to take things a bit slower over the coming weeks. With it, we leave you in the hope that your holiday season is filled with peace and joy.  

Dr. Michael Erdman, Head, Middle East and Central Asia 

Further Reading 

Conybeare, F. C. A catalogue of the Armenian manuscripts in the British Museum (London: Trustees of the British Museum, 1913). 

Nersessian, V. A catalogue of the Armenian manuscripts in the British Library acquired since the year 1913 and of collections in other libraries in the United Kingdom (London: The British Library, 2012). 

Nersessian, V. Catalogue of early Armenian books, 1512-1850 (London: The British Library, 1980). 

The British Library’s Ottoman Turkish manuscript holdings include nearly 2000 volumes. Many of these are notable for the contents of the texts that they contain, such as the Divan-i Kadi Burhaneddin, or the lavish artistic efforts they attest, such as the Nusretname. Others hold the reader’s attention less, at least on first sight. These, of course, can be just as interesting as the more famous, more luxurious volumes with whom they share the Library’s stacks. Some even hold little treats waiting to be recovered. Or 7745, the Divan-i Bîçâre, is one such volume.

A page of poetry from the Divan-i Bîçâre. (Divan-i Bîçâre, Istanbul?, 18th-early 19th century. Or 7745, f 41r)

An 18^th- or early 19^th-century volume, the Divan is a collection of the poetry of a 17^th century Ottoman poet named Abdullah ibn-i Şaban who went by the mahlas Abdî before settling on Bîçâre (Helpless, Without Remedy). From a quick look through the book, it is a collection of largely religious or Sufi poetry copied in a talik hand.

The acquisition slip, including brief description of the Divan-i Bîçâre. (Acquisition slip for Divan-i Bîçâre, London, 1960s?). 

The acquisition slip attached to the volume notes that Bursalı Mehmet Tahir’s Osmanlı Müellifleri describes Bîçâre as being the “halife of Dizdarzade Ahmet Efendi of Balıkesir, the successor of the well-known Celveti saint Hüdayi Mehmet Efendi [Aziz Mahmud Hüdayi] of Üsküdar ... and was murşid to Atpazarı Osman Efendi and to Selami Ali Efendi.” The Türk Edebiyatı İsimler Sözlüğü of Ahmet Yesevî Üniversitesi quoted above (the hyperlink for his biography) provides more information on Bîçâre, relying largely on the famed late Ottoman biographer and chronicler Mehmet Süreyya’s research. It explains that his father, Şaban Dede, was the Zakirbaşı (the Sufi order member leading the congregation in zikir or dhikr, ذكر) to Hüdayi’s Celvetî Order and a great scholar of Ottoman music. He set Hüdayi’s ilahiler to music (“bestelenmiş”) while also writing poetry of his own under the mahlas Zakiri. Bîçâre also had a sister, but we have no information about her name or the path her life took.

Şaban Dede took great care with his son Abdullah’s education, instructing him in or ensuring his tuition of Arabic, Persian, and the Islamic sciences. Bîçâre made a name for himself as a Sufi poet of great skill in rhetoric, oratory and preaching. He first worked in Manisa before returning to Istanbul as the Şeyh of the Ali Paşa Dergahı. He remained in the Celveti order and composed poetry throughout his life, but the only work he is known to have left is his Divan. Bîçâre passed away in Üsküdar in 1068 AH (1657 CE) and his grave can be found in the Karacaahmet Cemetery in this district of the city.

Or 7745 might seem like one of the hundreds of divavin and other collections of poetry that the Library holds, one penned by a poet with an interesting history. But the Sözlüğü immediately points us to why it is important, noting that only two copies of Bîçâre’s Divan are known: one in Bursa’s İnebey Yazma Eserleri Kütüphanesi, and the other in Süleymaniye Kütüphanesi’s Yazma Bağışlar Bölmü. This, then, is a third, long-lost cousin to the two documented volumes, an important addition to the corpus of extent work from which we can learn more about Bîçâre’s oeuvre.

The opening of the Divan along with an additional introductory note. (Divan-i Bîçâre, Istanbul?, 18th-early 19th century. Or 7745, f 1v)

The text of Or 7745 makes it clear that this was far from a luxury copy. It is bereft of the sort of illuminated, colourful unvan that we would expect from a more expensive copy. The 45 folios have no small number of additional du-beyitler, likely the copyist themselves correcting the work. The lack of a colophon means that we don’t know who that might have been, when they worked, or where. A small note at the start of the text, likely also by the copyist, provides some biographical information about Bîçâre that largely accords with what we see in the Sözlüğü, but adds that “Sultan Mehmet vaiziyken vefat etmiştir rahmet Allah aleyhi” (“He died while the preacher of Sultan Mehmet, may God have mercy on him”). This indicates that the copy is from after 1657 CE, year of Bîçâre’s death. There is no indication from the sources at hand that this final attributed profession of his is true. Indeed, the notice is slightly tortuous in describing Bîçâre’s appointments and those of his father, which might indicate that the author of this information might have got things a bit mixed up.

Acquisition note recording the date of purchase of the manuscript from Ibrahim Elias Géjou on 11 May 1912. (Divan-i Bîçâre, Istanbul?, 18th-early 19th century. Or 7745, fly-leaf)

A more pressing question, however, comes to my mind: where has this volume been hiding? Well, since 11 May 1912 it is has been in the collection of the British Museum, and then British Library. It was purchased on this date from I. Elias Géjou, a well-known Paris-based supplier of manuscripts to the British Museum. Géjou, according to the British Museum’s website, was an Iraqi-Armenian dealer with French citizenship who dealt largely in Mesopotamian antiquities pre-1914. The Museum claims he only dealt in Mesopotamian materials before this date, but Or 7745 makes it clear that his gaze went beyond Iraq earlier than that when it came to manuscripts.

How did Géjou get hold of this volume? Most of the work conducted on Géjou’s life and work focus on his trade in ancient Mesopotamian works, especially those featuring Cuneiform. Dr. Nadia Ait Said-Ghanem of the Netherlands Institute for Advanced Study has explored this aspect of Géjou’s legacy in much detail (see both her blog and a recently published paper). We, however, will need to turn to the manuscript itself for clues.

Two inscriptions at the start of the Divan including the ownership statement of Abdülhak. (Divan-i Bîçâre, Istanbul?, 18th-early 19th century. Or 7745, f 1r)

Or 7745 contains a number of inscriptions, two which start our search on f 1r. They are in hands that differ from one another and that of the main text. One that goes parallel to the spine of the work, in rık’a, appears to be a short poem addressed to “Beyrut Valisi Nasuhî Bey.” I had originally read it as "Mutassarıfı," but Prof. Jun Akiba kindly corrected me with a more appropriate interpretation. It is undated, but we know that Abdülhalik Nasuhî Bey was the Vali of Beirut between August 1894 and March 1897, which makes it likely that the poem was written in the 1890s. It seems probably that Nasuhî Bey, himself a poet, would have seen this, but did it mean that the book itself was in his possession?

A second inscription on the bottom left corner of the page, in unpointed Divani script, is indeed dated. I find much of the inscription quite difficult to read, but thanks to the very generous support of Dr. Mykhaylo Yakubovych, Dr. Şeyma Benli and Prof. Jun Akiba, who responded quickly to my Facebook post, we know what it says. The text reads “Min e’azzu mümtelekâti’l-fakîr Abdülhakk el-kadî bi-askeri Anadolu bâ-pâye-i Rumeli 55,” an inscription indicating that this book is the property of Abdulhak, Kazasker of Anatolia and Rumelia in (12)55 AH, or 1839-40 CE. This likely refers to Abdülhak Molla, who held a dizzying array of titles relating to both hekimbaşlık (the post of Chief Physician) and kazaskerlik (Chief Judge) for various cities and administrative units up to and including Anatolia and Rumelia throughout the 1830s to 50s, until his death in 1854 CE.

The two birth notices for es-Seyyit Mehmet Arif and Fatime. (Divan-i Bîçâre, Istanbul?, 18th-early 19th century. Or 7745, f 45v)

The last page of the work gives us a final clue about the manuscript’s ownership and production. Under the heading “Tarih-i Mehmet Arif İbnü’s-Seyitü’l-Hacc Mehmet Sait” (“the History of Mehmet Arif İbnü’s-Seyitü’l-Hacc Mehmet Sait”) there are two birth notices. The first, dated 7 pm on Friday, the “gurre” of Şa’ban (1^st of the month of Şa’ban) 1238 AH, or 12 April 1823 CE, announces the birth of “my son, es-Seyyit Mehmet Arif” (“oğlum es-Seyyit Mehmet Arif dünyaya teşrif eyledi”). From the title of the page, it’s clear that it’s es-Seyitü’l-Hac Mehmet Sait who is writing this notice, or having it written on his behalf. Just below it is another one, this time announcing the birth of his daughter Fatime in the morning of Saturday 9 Ramazan 1239 AH, or 7 May 1824 CE, about 13 months after her brother. In this notice, Fatime’s mother Şerife Emine Hanım is identified as es-Seyitü’l-Hacc Mehmet Sait’s wife (“karım”).

From these two inscriptions, we know that the work would have been in the possession of es-Seyitü’l-Hacc Mehmet Sait at least until the mid-1820s. It’s hard to tell exactly where he might have lived, but the fact that the inscription is in Ottoman Turkish, not Arabic, and the later ownership of the work by Abdülhak Molla, makes me think that this might have been a household in Istanbul.

What can we say from all of this? We know that Bîçâre died in 1657 CE and that Mehmet Arif was born in 1823 CE, so the volume must have been produced at some point between these two dates. Moreover, it might have been in Abdülhalik Nasuhî's possession as late as 1897 CE, possibly in Beirut, where a fan of the Vali inscribed it with a brief poem. But at some point over those 15 years between Abdülhalik’s tenure and the manuscript’s purchase by the British Museum, it made its way into the possession of M. Géjou. More research on his pre-World War One dealings with texts is needed before we can fill in those gaps, and the travels of this unassuming volume. Until then, however, we can still raise a glass of sherbet to the recovery of a third copy of Bîçâre’s Divan, and a belated cheer to the births of Mehmet Arif and Fatime, whatever might have become of them.

Dr. Michael Erdman, Head, Middle East and Central Asia