The colophon of the Kitāb al-Dalīl featuring decoration common through the manuscript grouping. (Kitāb al-Dalīl. Oman, 17 Shawwāl 1312 AH/12 April 1895 CE). (Or 6564, f 177r).

In early 2024, preparing for a visit by an Omani guest, I set out to find what Omani manuscripts we might hold. Not satisfied with the idea that we didn’t have any, I started to pick my way through the listings and stumbled on Or 6568, identified as a 19^th-century Tar’īkh ‘umān with no author provided. Like a string that would unravel the veil of my ignorance, I pulled on it and found myself with a treasure trove of Omani cultural production.

In truth, it should have been obvious that the Library holds Omani manuscripts, and not just one or two. Charles Rieu’s Supplement to the Catalogue of the Arabic Manuscripts in the British Museum clearly states on page viii that “The most important accession after the above-mentioned collections was due to the liberality of Col. S. B. Miles, late political agent in Muscat, who at various times between the years 1875 and 1891 presented to the Trustees no fewer than fifty rare and valuable Arabic MSS. (Or. 1382-3, 2328-33, 2424-38, 2896-2920, 4518, 4529)…” Samuel Barrett Miles was a diplomat, ethnographer and historian who came to be one of the leading British authorities on the Gulf region. He was present in Oman at a time of considerable social, political and religious turmoil and it should not be a surprise that the manuscripts he deposited with the Museum are exceptionally eclectic. Some were copied in Yemen, such as Or 7776, a collection of poetry and historical texts. Others were probably copied for Miles, such as a copy of Wahhabi texts (Or 7778). This volume also clarifies that Or 7718 should be described as only one of the British Library’s Wahhabi manuscripts, not the British Library Wahhabi manuscript. But a fair number of the others were likely produced in Oman for Omanis. Many of these volumes, as well as those acquired from Miles' widow, are in disarray and will take long hours of hard work before they are understood in their entirety.

The first colophon of the Ta'rīkh 'umān providing the name of the copyist. (Ta'rīkh 'umān. Wādī Banī Kharūṣ, Oman, 20 Jumādá al-awwal 1038 AH/14 January 1629 CE). (Or 6568, f 47r)

But let’s get back to Or 6568. It’s one of three volumes labelled Ta’rīkh ‘umān , the other two being Add MS 23343 (containing two histories of the country, the first by ‘Abd Allāh ibn Khalfān ibn Qayṣar, ff 1v-50r; and the second without an author, ff 50v-173v) and Or 8076. All three of these manuscripts are clearly different texts. The latter one (Or 8076) is in a chronicle format and was donated to the Library by Miles’ widow in 1914. It highlights the slightly more ambiguous nature of the text in Or 6568, which begins with explanations of the departure of the Persians from Oman. But Or 6568 and Or 8076 have very similar hands, as well as usages of a lovely purple ink in addition to main black ink, which might firm up Or 8076’s connection to the country.

When I first called up Or 6568, our very helpful automated ordering system made sure that it came directly to the Asian and African Reading Room. But the next time I wanted to see it, after the cyber attack we suffered in October 2023, was slightly more complicated. The temporary blockage on retrievals meant that I had to go the basement to view the volume, to pull it off the shelf myself; not a common occurrence in normal times. Down in the basement, I decided to pull the volumes to its left and right. The lightbulb above my head gradually grew brighter, and I soon realized that I was looking at a small collection of 10 manuscripts, all likely from Oman, all deposited at the British Museum by the same man: Colonel Jayakar.

Who was this Colonel? Atmaram Sadashiva Grandin Jayakar was a Marathi speaker born in 1844 in India. He studied medicine in India and England and, after his posting to Muscat in 1873, eventually rose to the post of Agency Surgeon, even attending to Sultan Turkī bin Sa‘īd, until 1900. He therefore overlapped with Miles, who was in Oman in the 1870s and 80s, and likely would have worked with him personally. Jayakar has been the subject of a number of studies and blogs already, including Mark Hobb’s post on the British Library’s Untold Lives page , and Charlie Sammut’s detailed reckoning of Jayakar’s life. He is well-known for his exploration of Oman’s flora and fauna (some of it now named after him), as well as his study of Omani dialects and oral literature (translated into Arabic in 1980) and Arabic medical terminology, as well as his occasional intervention in Omani-British affairs. Pratap Velkar, a descendant of Jayakar’s, published a collection of his zoological research in 2004. But, for all the focus on Jayakar’s intellectual and scientific pursuits, his activities as a collector have largely been overlooked.

A folio of the Dīwān Ibn al-Mu'tazz featuring some of the creative uses of text direction to embellish the work. (Dīwān ibn al-Mu'tazz. Oman, Rabī‘ al-awwal 946 AH/August 1539 CE). (Or 6561, f 152v)

Jayakar passed away in 1911, but before he died, he presented (i.e. donated) 10 Arabic-language manuscripts to the British Museum on 12 December 1903: Or 6560 (ديوان موسى بن حسين المحلي); Or 6561 (ديوان ابن المعتز); Or 6562 (عين الحياة); Or 6563 (سبائك اللجين); Or 6564 (كتاب الدليل يوسف بن إبراهيم السدرابي); Or 6565 (القصيدة القدسية النورانية); Or 6566 (ديوان الحبسي); Or 6567 (ديوان الستالي); Or 6568 (تأريخ عمان); and Or 6569 (الصحيفة العدنانية).

The handlist of the manuscripts provided by Colonel Jayakar himself. (Dīwān Mūsá bin Ḥusayn al-Maḥallī. Oman, 19 Sha‘bān 1308 AH/30 March 1891 CE). (Or 6560)

We know that these were part of a cohesive whole because of a handwritten note in English at the end of Or 6560 in which Jayakar provides the titles of each of the manuscripts along with occasional notes about their importance. Or 6560, for example, is the collected works of the poet Mūsá bin Ḥusayn al-Shawwāl from the region of Wādī Banī Ruwāḥah Jayakar claims was known locally as... The Local (al-Maḥallī). Ḥumayd bin Muḥammad bin Ruzayq, author of the texts in Or 6563 and Or 6565, is also the author of the text underlying George Percy Badger’s History of the Imams and Seyyids of Oman. Or 6567, the Diwan of the Omani poet Sitālī, contains laudatory poetry about various Nabhanī Sultans. It is from Jayakar himself that we learn Or 6568 actually contains extracts from Bahā’ al-dīn ‘alī bin ‘īsá al-Irbilī ’s كشف الغمة في معرفة الائمة. Finally, the doctor’s notes tell us that Or 6562 is Muḥammad ibn Abī Bakr al-Makhzūmī al-Damāmīnī ’s “compendium” of the حياة الحيوان الكبرى by Kamāl al-dīn Muḥammad ibn Mūsá al-Damīrī . Al-Damāmīnī, also known by the laqab Badr al-dīn, was a 13^th-14 ^th century CE South Asian scholar from the Punjab, highlighting the transmission of texts from South Asia to Oman.

The colophon of Or 6567 showing the second al-Baḥrī-penned inscription. (Dīwān al-Sitālī. Oman, 22 Ramaḍān 1039 AH/4 May 1639 CE). (Or 6567, f 89r)

The manuscripts that came to the Museum via Colonel Jayakar are fascinating for the view they provide us on Oman, its history and its culture. Some of this information can be gleaned from the content of the volumes, whether the main text or the marginalia and later inscriptions. Indeed, a number of the volumes are collections of Omani poetry, and Or 6560 contains verses in a metre particular to Oman. Most of the manuscripts have the names of their copyist somewhere in the text. These differ from volume to volume. The oldest of the manuscripts is Or 6561, which contains the date Rabī‘ al-awwal 946 AH (August 1539 CE) in a small marginal note against a colophon on f 249r, although it is not clear how much of the manuscript forms part of the oldest text. After this, a group of 10^th century AH/17^th century CE works appear to have similar creators. Or 6568 (20 Jumādá al-awwal 1038 AH/14 January 1629 CE) was penned by Ja‘far bin Sālmīn bin ‘abd Allāh al-Nakhlī belonging to the children of Muḥammad bin Bashīr bin Muḥammad bin Bashīr bin Baḥrī from the highlands beside Wādī Banī Kharūṣ (جعفر بن سالمين بن عبد الله النخلي تابع أولاد محمد بن بشير بن محمد بن بشير البحري الذي هو من بلد العليا من ناحية وادي بني خروص). I would bet that a relative (maybe even his father) copied Or 6567, where the colophon states that the manuscript was written by Sālmīn bin ‘abd Allāh a member of the Banū al-(Ba)ḥrī (سالمين بن عبد الله التابع بنو ال(ب)حري) on 22 Ramaḍān 1039 AH (4 May 1639 CE) and that the owner is the Doctor Agent of the Christian state (Portugal?), the Exalted State may God grant his intention (“مو ملك الصاحب الدختر عامل الدولة النصرانية الدولة العلوية رزقه الله النية”). The hand is similar between the two, as is the use of the bright purple ink instead of red for highlighting, overlining and titles. Arabic Wikipedia’s listing of the tribes of Oman is great help in identifying social groups in the manuscripts. But so too is the geographical designation in the colophon of Or 6568, as it is a simple affair to pinpoint Ja‘far bin Sālmīn’s hometown to the Wādī Banī Kharūṣ in the mountains south-west of Musqaṭ, about two-thirds of the way to Nizwa.

Other manuscripts are more modern. Or 6560 was copied by Sa‘īd bin Ḥamīd bin Sa‘īd on “Monday, the 11^th day remaining from Sha‘bān 1308 AH” (30 March 1891 CE) for Shaykh ‘alī al-Furqad (?) al-Taqqah al-Raḍmī (?) bin Hurrān bin Muḥsin bin Sa‘īd al-Siyānī, likely referring to a Shaykh originally from the Siyānī region of Ibb Governorate, Yemen . Or 6564, copied on 17 Shawwāl 1312 AH (12 April 1895 CE), is in the hand of Sa‘īd bin Ḥammād bin Ḥamad bin Salmān bin Muḥammad al-Riyāmī al-Azkawī. Or 6563 was organized and edited by Ḥamīd bin Muḥammad bin Razīq (?) bin Naḥīt bin Sa‘īd bin Ghassān al-Nakhlī. The manuscript is incomplete and lacks a proper colophon, but at the end of the volume, an additional madḥ or laudatory poem penned in a different hand on paper that looks to be the same as the main text is dated 1234 AH (1818-19 CE), giving us an upper bound for the date of the main work. This is probably roughly the time the manuscript was copied, as the same man signed his name to Or 6569, alongside the date of 14 Dhū al-Ḥijjah 1248 AH (3 May 1833 CE).

This is quite the collection of names and might be a bit of patronymic overload. But from the variety of scribes and dates, we can see that Jayakar collected from a variety of different periods, largely focusing on output that either spoke to the history of the land or to the literary output of its peoples. Some, of course, go back far before his time in Oman, or even the presence of British forces. Or 6567 and Or 6568, for example, are from a period of Portuguese control over Muscat during a century of fierce competition between them, the Ottomans, and an Indigenous dynasty, the Ya‘āribah. Others, such as Or 6560 and Or 6564, are from the end of his time in the country, begging the question of whether he might have known their copyists or their patrons. None of this is surprising, given Jayakar’s outstanding career documenting Omani flora, fauna and language over a quarter of a century. The considerable marginalia in some of these volumes indicates that he was not the only one to make use of these volumes; potentially a point of attraction for the Colonel and his curiosity about life in Oman.

A brief poem attributed to Shaykh Nāṣr bin Khamīs al-Salīmī in the additional texts following the Dīwān al-Ḥabsī. (Dīwān al-Ḥabsī. Oman, 11 Muḥarra, 1247 AH/21 June 1831 CE). (Or 6566, f 280v)

The manuscripts can be divided according to criteria other than ages. While the split between histories, poetry and zoological texts seems to speak to Jayakar’s own interests, the physical construction of the works also deserves some attention. Or 6560, Or 6567 and Or 6568 all feature a delightfully bold purple ink for titles, overlines and general decoration. The spread of ages makes it unlikely that the ink was time-bound, but it might be a fascinating regional trait. Additional folios appended to the end of Or 6566 also feature it. These are obviously in a hand different from that of the main text and are likely from another Omani scribe or writer. They reference the poetry of Omani Shaykh Nāṣr bin Khamīs al-Salīmī (a clearer copy of one of his poems is here on X), but also the North African poet al-Tilimshānī.

An example of the alternating use of red and yellow inks to highlight words and titles. (Sabā'ik al-lujayn. Oman, early 19th century CE). (Or 6563, f 335r)

This purple is quite distinct from the other manuscripts (and the main text of Or 6566), where a bright red is used in the same functions (except in Or 6562), often filling in the empty interiors of larger letters as seen in some of the Yemeni manuscripts that form part of the Miles acquisitions. Or 6563 also includes a lovely pale yellow, not too far off from the same ink used in Or 7718, a Najdi manuscript from the mid-19 ^th century CE.

The 'unwān of the 'ayn al-Ḥayāh likely copied in South Asia, featuring a mellow and distinct (compared to the other manuscripts in Jayakar's holdings) colour palette. ('ayn al-Ḥayāh. South Asia?, 1200 AH/1785-86 CE). (Or 6562, f 3v)

The single outlier is Or 6562, which has a more intricate ‘unwān of deep yellow, light green, brown and navy that incorporates floral motifs and a fleur-de-lys type element in addition to deep yellow cloudbands. The hand of this work is quite different from the other volumes and, although the colophon is clearly copied from an earlier work of the ‘ayn al- ḥayāh, right at the bottom of f 428v the copyist has put that the volume was produced by Aḥqar ‘abbād Allāh in 1200 AH (1785-86 CE). That might be a name or laqab, or it might just be formulaic. However, the coloration and calligraphy probably indicate that this is a South Asian manuscript, highlighted by the presence of occasional Persian glosses. A brief ownership note at the start of the volume identifies it as belonging to al-Sayyid Ibrāhīm bin al-Sayyid ‘abd Allāh bin al-Sayyid Muḥammad al-Qādirī al-Baghdādī. Does the Qādirī appellation indicate a member of the Qadiriyyah Sufi order? If so, this might strengthen the idea that the work is an import to Oman, where Qādirī orders are not common. After all, it is likely the content of the work, and its focus on the animal world, that is likely to have attracted Jayakar, rather than any potential links to Oman.

Atmaram Sadashiva Grandin Jayakar’s fame precedes him in the realms of zoology, medicine and Arabic dialectology. Greater study of the ten manuscripts he presented to the British Museum in 1903 might help extend this renown to the world of archives and library studies. Whatever the next few years may bring, we can be sure that this fascinating group of manuscripts will be of great value in piecing apart the far more complex, and convoluted, holdings of Omani and Yemeni manuscript traditions throughout the rest of the collection.

Dr. Michael Erdman, Head Middle East and Central Asia
With thanks to Dr. Şeyma Benli, Dr. Walid Saleh, Hussam Hussein and M. Ali Kara for their assistance.

 

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

The Lalitavistara is a Mahayana sutra (Sanskrit sutra or Pali sutta, meaning text, discourse, canonical scripture) about the life story of Gautama Buddha, covering the time of his descent from Tushita heaven until his first sermon in the Deer Park at Sarnath, Varanasi, India. It narrates how the Buddha manifested in this world and gained awakening.


The Lalitavistara, with five Dhyani Buddhas on the wooden cover, Patan, Nepal, 1803. British Library, I.O San 688, cover

The title Lalitavistara has been translated as “the play in full”. It consists of 27 chapters and is written in Sanskrit and a vernacular dialect also known as 'Buddhist hybrid Sanskrit'. Portions of the text date back to the earliest days of the Buddhist tradition, but it is not known when the Lalitavistara was finally edited (Winternitz 1933: 252-3). Both the style and language of the text suggest a compilation: the work includes a continuous narrative in Sanskrit prose, with metrical passages in mixed Sanskrit, and the topics of the prose and verse parts often overlap. The point of view also changes occasionally from the third person to the first person, where the Buddha himself narrates the events. It is therefore believed that the Lalitavistara is not the work of a single author, but an anonymous compilation in which very early and more recent passages stand side by side.


The Lalitavistara, written in Sanskrit in Devanagari script on paper, Queen Maya dreams of a white beautiful elephant entering her womb, 1803. British Library, I.O San 688, f.36r

In the Lalitavistara the miraculous element in the legend of the Buddha’s conception and birth is overemphasised, compared to accounts in other Buddhist schools. There are also a number of concepts and stories that appear in the Lalitavistara for the first time that are missing in similar Pali texts. One is in chapter 10, recounting the first day of the young Buddha as a Bodhisattva, while chapters 12 and 13 also contain episodes which are missing in other biographies of the Buddha. The last chapter (27) praises the Lalitavistara itself and enumerates the merits one gains by honouring this text (Winternitz 1938: 251, 252).


The Lalitavistara, written in Sanskrit in Devanagari script on paper, Queen Maya giving birth to the Buddha, 1803. British Library, I.O San 688, f. 73v

The Lalitavistara, like other post-canonical Buddhist literary works written in hybrid and pure Sanskrit, represents the Buddha not just as a sage, but as an extraordinary being “adorned with the 32 marks of the Great Man”. The Buddha’s beneficial power, compassion, and omnipotence is stressed in these texts, where this marvellous being is depicted as a living miracle: upon seeing him the blind see, the deaf hear, the dumb speak, the sick are cured, and so on. Everywhere he lives he is worshipped and respected by the kings, the wealthy, the gods and all other beings (Lamotte1988: 645-6). In the Lalitavistara, the Buddha says that when he was born, this trichiliocosm (a universe of a billion worlds) trembled, and all the gods bowed their heads to his feet and paid homage to him; he is superior to all the gods, he is the God of Gods, but he will still follow his worldly customs (Lamotte 1988: 624).

The Lalitavistara, written in Sanskrit in Devanagari script on paper, the monks crossing the Ganges on a boat, while the Buddha flew to the other side of the river, 1803. British Library, I.O San 688, f.221r

The oldest copies of the Lalitavistara date from the end of the second century or the beginning of the third century, and it can be assumed that the original composition (or compilation) dates from the beginning of the Christian era. Although the Lalitavistara summarises a series of the jatakas (stories of the former existences of the Buddha), the biography remains incomplete, as it doesn’t mention the Buddha’s first return to Kapilavastu (the principal city of the Śākya clan) or his missionary trips, and there is no account of his demise. The Lalitavistara ends with setting in motion of the Wheel of the Dharma, which perhaps suggests that the narrative aims to tell the story of the complete awakening of a bodhisattva in his last existence (Lamotte1988: 654-5).

The Lalitavistara sutra has inspired elaborate artwork in different parts of Asia, and the themes of the text can be seen in temple art in Gandhara, and at the Borobudur temple complex in Java.


The Lalitavistara, written in Sanskrit in Devanagari script on paper, the Buddha conquering all demonic congregation, 1803. British Library, I.O San 688, f.195v

There are three complete and one abridged manuscript copies of the Lalitavistara at the British Library, all from the collections of the India Office Library. The copy most often written about, and illustrated above, is I.O San 688, part of the B.H. Hodgson collection, which is adorned with coloured illustrations depicting scenes of the life of the Buddha. According to the colophon, the text was inscribed in Patan, Nepal, in 1803 by the Buddhist Pandit Amrtananda for Captain W.D. Knox, who is described as someone whose “liberality and other virtues surpassed the Hindu divinities and proved him to be an Avatara of Buddha”. An illustration at the end of the manuscript shows the presentation of the volume (ralitavisara) to Captain Knox, the first British resident in Nepal and an officer in the army of the East India Company, depicted in the military attire of the period and holding a prayer wheel.


The Lalitavistara, written in Sanskrit in Devanagari script on paper, with a painting of Pandit Amrtananda and Captain Knox. Patan, 1803. British Library, I.O San 688, f. 253v

The same two figures appear with the Bodhisattva Manjushri (representing transcendent wisdom) and auspicious symbols on the back cover of the manuscript.

Pandit Amrtananda and Captain Knox depicted on the wooden cover of the Lalitavistara, Patan, 1803. British Library, I.O San 688, back cover

The two other manuscripts of the Lalitavistara in the British Library (I.O San 341 and I.O San 2880) are copies of the 1803 manuscript given to Capt. Knox described above (I.O. San 688).

The manuscript I.O San 341 was made for Henry Thomas Colebrooke – a Sanskrit scholar, orientalist, and Chairman of the East India Company – in the 19th century, who wrote at the beginning: “The Lalita Vistara ... Knox”. This copy is also annotated on the first folios, but it is not illustrated. There is a blank page on which is written in a second hand: śodha ṭīkā para (correct according to the tika, i.e. commentary or gloss), and there are a few corrections in the same hand. This manuscript is part of the H.T. Colebrooke collection.

The abridged copy (I.O San 2575), which is named 'a Buddha Purana', was copied in the 19th C. It is part of the collection of Colin Mackenzie (1753-1821) and was copied by one of his pandits. The manuscript comprises just a table of contents to the Lalitavistara, and contains a note by Colebrooke at the beginning, which reads: 'An abridgment of the Lalita Vistara, a Purana, containing the history of the life of Buddha. The original was brought from Nepal by Capt Knox. This abridgement by a pandit in Mr. Colebrooks’s service, contains the whole substance of the voluminous original.'


Note by Colebrooke at the beginning of a manuscript containing a list of contents of the Lalitavistara, 19th century. British Library, I.O San 2575

Bibliography
Igunma, Jana, and San San May, eds. Buddhism: Origins, Traditions and Contemporary Life. London: The British Library, 2019.
“Lalitavistara | Life Story, Biography & Legends | Britannica.” 4 July 2024 . 
Lamotte, Etienne. History of Indian Buddhism: From the Origins to the Saka Era. Louvain-la-Neuve: Université catholique de Louvain, Institut orientaliste, 1988.
‘The Play in Full / 84000 Reading Room’. n.d. 84000 Translating The Words of The Buddha. Accessed 4 July 2024. 
Winternitz, Moriz. A History of Indian Literature. 2, Buddhist Literature and Jaina Literature. Calcutta: University of Calcutta, 1933.

Azadeh Shokouhi, Sanskrit cataloguer

‘Passports and Identity Documents in the Hands of Artists’ is a new single-case display in the British Library’s Sir John Ritblat Treasures gallery. It highlights artists, photographers, designers and arts activists from Lebanon, Palestine, Syria, Turkey and Iran who, through artists’ books and artist-led publications, zines, photobooks and print ephemera, have reworked the concept, materiality and function of passports and other bureaucratic documents.

(Left to right) Sorry for Not Attending by Jana Traboulsi (2013) (ORB.30/8742); Hususi Pasaport by Gözde İlkin (2009).
© Jana Traboulsi and Gözde İlkin

Jana Traboulsi’s Sorry for Not Attending (2013) first drew my attention to this theme when I visited the Beirut book-art atelier Plan BEY in 2018. Traboulsi, a Lebanese visual artist, graphic designer and educator, was invited to participate in the ‘No Souls for Sale’ festival at the Tate Modern in London in May 2010. Due to a visa system that restricts Lebanese citizens from travelling easily to the UK, she was unable to attend. In response, she produced an artist’s book entitled Sorry for Not Attending that uses the format of the passport as a critical commentary on not being able to attend one’s own exhibition. Reproducing passport pages, real excerpts of visa applications, maps, stamps, drawings and stickers, she highlights four places—Europe, the United States of America, Palestine, the Asteroid B612—where it is difficult or impossible for a Lebanese passport holder to travel.

Examining the design politics of the passport, Mahmoud Keshavarz writes: “[T]he passport is not neutral but a real and powerful device with its own specific history, design, and politics, mediating moments through which socially constructed power relations can be enacted and performed.” He notes that just as passports “mediate experiences of moving, residing, and, consequently, acting in the world” they can also be “remediated” through cultural and artistic works. He writes: “These works, through acknowledging the brutality of the passport as a system of control, deception, and regulation, try to open this banal booklet and redirect it as an object of thinking, imagination, and memory with the hope of reworking the hegemonic narrative prescribed to them.”

(Left to right) Jawāz Safarī lil-Qirāʼah [My Reading Passport] by al-Jana Arab Resource Center for Popular Arts (c. 2000s) (ORB.30/9506); Leave to Remain: a Single Syrian Grain, Airbourn by Issam Kourbaj (2023) (ORB.30/9576).
© al-Jana Arab Resource Center for Popular Arts and Issam Kourbaj

Thinking together with Keshavarz and Traboulsi’s Sorry for Not Attending, I began to notice other artists who have creatively embarked on a similar process of remediation, using passports and other bureaucratic documents to explore themes of state control, mobility, displacement, exile, memory and identity. A selection of these works, together with Sorry for Not Attending, are included in ‘Passports and Identity Documents in the Hands of Artists’.

‘Passports and Identity Documents in the Hands of Artists’ display installed in the British Library’s Sir John Ritblat Treasures gallery
© Daniel Lowe

Istanbul-based artist Gözde İlkin’s Hususi Pasaport (2009) reflects on political borders referencing the Turkish "Green Passport." Palestinian photographer and graphic designer Majdi Hadid, in his contribution for the Subjective Atlas of Palestine (2007), enumerates the many documents required to travel under Israeli occupation. Jawāz Safarī lil-Qirāʼah [My Reading Passport] (c. 2000s), produced by al-Jana Arab Resource Center for Popular Arts, mimics a visa system as a tool to encourage reading and literacy for Palestinian children living as refugees in Lebanon. Cambridge-based artist Issam Kourbaj's Leave to Remain: a Single Syrian Grain, Airbourn (2023) draws on his own expired Syrian passport, while Adnan Farzat's Forgotten Moments (2020) uses a passport-like format to evoke his memories of Syria that are being slowly erased by time and conflict. Iranian-born artists Batool Showghi and Amak Mahmoodian in The Immigrant Book, No. 3 (2018) and Shenasnameh (2016) draw upon bureaucratic documents to show how identity is defined and fragmented.

Daniel Lowe, Curator, Arabic Collections

 

Further reading:

Gharbieh, Ahmad. “You Can’t Get There from Here: Notes on the New Lebanese Passport Design.” Journal Safar, vol. 3, 2017. (ZP.9.a.894)

Keshavarz, Mahmoud. The Design Politics of the Passport: Materiality, Immobility, and Dissent. London: Bloomsbury, 2019. (YC.2019.a.5851 and ELD.DS.346541)

Keshavarz, Mahmoud, and Ayla Kekhia. “The Design Politics of Passports: Materiality, Immobility, and Dissent.” Journal Safar, vol. 5, 2020. (ZP.9.a.894)

The first part of this blog post on the Gitagovinda, a 12th-century Sanskrit poem by Jayadeva devoted to the Hindu god Krishna, explored the contents of the poem and its allegorical interpretations. This post will focus on the region in eastern India which gave birth to the Gitagovinda, and the role of the Gitagovinda in the ritual of the Jagannatha temple at Puri.

The region known as Orissa (now Odisha) in eastern India has been the cradle of various traditions and religions. In the 6th century BCE, it had associations with Buddhism and Jainism. For centuries, both these traditions received patronage from the rulers of the region. From the accounts of the 3rd and 4th centuries CE it can be inferred that as the result of contact between the royal families in Odisha and Sri Lanka, there were mutual influences on religion through the local tribes who worshipped their own deities. The new settlers Sanskritised the names of these deities and worshipped the local gods, but did not change their iconographic features, as a sign of respect to the religious sentiment of the local dwellers. Even Mahayana Buddhists incorporated some aspects of the local pantheon into their belief system during the 5th and 6th centuries CE.

Avatars of Vishnu. Gitagovinda, Sanskrit in Oriya script, with black ink illustrations, 18th century. Or. 13502, fols. 4v, 5r

Throughout the 4th-7th centuries CE different dynasties in the region worshipped Vishnu in various forms, like Narayana or Madhava, and certain royals, although claiming to be devout worshippers of Gokarneshvara (Shiva), granted charters in favor of the god Narayana, or even a village to the god Vishnu (Mishra 1971: 7, 8). Such grants of land were made by the rulers to Brahmins or to temples. Compared to royal families, elite groups such as merchants, military chiefs and nobles were more influential in activities such as temple building between the 6th and the 12th centuries (Singh 1994: 6, 296). It was in such an environment that the cult of Jagannatha emerged and developed.

In the 12th century, Vishishtadvaita vada, the Vaishnava devotional sect from South India, was influential in Odisha. According to Vaishnava traditional accounts, Ramanuja, the great Vedanta philosopher and one of the most important exponents of the Vaishnava tradition, visited Puri in Odisha in the early 12th century and established a school in the city. Having met and influenced the king of Puri, Ramanuja introduced the ritual of Vaishnavism to the Jagannatha temple. Consequently, Jagannatha has since been worshipped as the supreme form of Vishnu (Stoller Miller 1977: 5). As a result of this neo-Vaishnavism being merged with the remnants of other traditions in the region, Vaishnavite deities were worshipped in a Buddhist Tantric way, with an admixture of Brahmanical ritualism.

Deities on the first folio of the manuscript, Gitagovinda, Sanskrit in Oriya script, with black ink illustrations, 18th century. Or. 13502, f. 3r

Originating in eastern India in the 12th century, the Gitagovinda soon spread across the whole of the Indian subcontinent. By the 15th century, the Gitagovinda had already become part of the ritual of the Jagannatha temple at Puri, whose construction started in the 10th century and was completed in the 12th century. Because of their role in the nightly worship of Krishna, the songs of the Gitagovinda have been chanted in the Jagannatha temple for more than seven hundred years and are revered throughout Odisha. A key aspect of Odissi, a classical dance originating from Odisha, is the performance of these songs as the art form was developed through the religious art of temple dancers who dance Gitagovinda songs in praise of Jagannatha.


The Jagannatha temple with the three deities, depicted across all 12 folios of palmleaf, in a manuscript of Gitagovinda, with Sanskrit text in minute Oriya script. British Library, Or. 14110.

A unique manuscript of the Gitagovinda (Or. 14110), a copy of unknown date, was acquired by the British Library in 1982. It is a stitched palm-leaf folding book consisting of 12 leaves altogether with the text and illustrations only on the obverse. The poem’s Sanskrit verses are written in minute Oriya script, and there are also Sanskrit mantras written in Oriya script throughout the text.

This manuscript stands out for its format, layout, and artwork, because the text and accompanying illustrations are arranged in the shape of the façade of the Jagannatha temple at Puri in Odisha. There are three figures in the center, the deities Jagannatha, Subhadra (the younger sister of gods Krishna and Balarama also known as Balabhadra) and Balabhadra (the elder brother of Krishna). This trio of deities is worshipped at the Jagannatha temple.

Detail of the three deities in the Jagannatha temple, in a manuscript of Gitagovinda, with Sanskrit text in minute Oriya script. British Library, Or. 14110.

As mentioned, the history of the Jagannatha temple shows an amalgam of various influences and traditions. According to the 15th-century poet and scholar, Saraladasa, the cult of Jagannatha was identified with the cult of the Trimurti, the three supreme Hindu deities: Brahma (the creator), Vishnu (the preserver) and Shiva (the destroyer). Saraladasa equates Subhadra with Brahma. But since the Jagannatha temple is still dedicated to the cult of Hari-Hara (Vishnu-Shiva) and the worship of Sri Vidya (the Goddess), Subhadra is suggested to stand for Shakti (Hindu paramount goddess and consort of Shiva) who was worshipped in the form of Ekanamsa. The name Ekanamsa was changed to Subhadra, and consequently the goddess lost her position as the principal deity (Starza 1993: 63, 64). Balabhadra is sometimes considered as Shiva and sometimes as Ananta or the serpent, therefore representing the Naga cult, i.e. snake worship. But in essence, he is one of the deities in the Puranas (sacred literature of the Hindus which serves as a popular encyclopedic collection of myths, legends and genealogy) (Mishra 1971: 157).

Avatars of Vishnu, Gitagovinda, Sanskrit in Oriya script, with coloured illustrations, 18th century. IO San 3508, f. 5r

Most Vaishnavites, particularly Krishnaites, consider Jagannatha to be an abstract representation or avatar of Krishna or Vishnu. It has been suggested that Jagannatha may have originally been a local deity of an unknown tribe, whose worship was later incorporated into Brahmanism. When this new god was introduced, he was regarded as another manifestation of Vishnu.

Further reading:

Mishra, Kanhu Charan. The Cult of Jagannātha. [1st ed.]. Calcutta: Firma K.L. Mukhopadhyay, 1971.
Mukherjee, Prabhat. 1981. The History of Medieval Vaishnavism in Orissa. New Delhi: Asian Educational Services.
Singh, Upinder. Kings, Brāhmaṇas, and Temples in Orissa: An Epigraphic Study AD 300-1147. New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers, 1994.
Starza, Olgierd Maria Ludwik. The Jagannatha Temple at Puri: Its Architecture, Art and Cult. Studies in South Asian Culture. Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1993. 
Stoler Miller, Barbara. Love Song of the Dark Lord: Jayadeva’s Gitagovinda. UNESCO Collection of Representative Works. New York: Columbia University Press, 1977.

Azadeh Shokouhi, Sanskrit cataloguer

Acknowledgment: Special thanks to Dr Arani Ilankuberan, the Head of South Asia collections, and to Pasquale Manzo, Lead Curator South Asia Collections and Curator of the Sanskrit collections, for their comments and suggestions.

This guest blog is by Shalini Amerasinghe Ganendra, Adjunct Professor at UNIMAS, Institute of Borneo Studies, Malaysia, and Associate Academic, History of Art, University of Oxford.

The use of photography in anthropology has a complex history, particularly when it comes to representing indigenous communities through early ethnographic research. When viewing collections such as the early 20th-century images of Sri Lanka’s Vedda community captured by Charles and Brenda Seligman, it is crucial to evaluate them not just for their historical significance but also through the ethical and legal frameworks that apply today.

The British Museum holds around 2,200 artefacts donated by the Seligmans mainly from Oceania, China and Africa, as well as a similar number of photographs, including over 400 glass negatives and prints documenting the Seligmans’ 1908 field research in Sri Lanka. Although the glass slides are yet to be fully catalogued, many of their photographs were reproduced in their seminal publication, The Veddas, two copies of which are held in the British Library (Seligmann 1911; note the different spelling of the surname). The publication’s images were produced in an era devoid of any standardised ethical guidance, whether in the taking or in the publication of such images.


‘The Vedda country, view from Bendiyagalge rocks’. Photograph from C.G. and B.Z. Seligmann, The Veddas (1911). British Library, T 11173, facing title page.

This article delves into the ethical implications and legal considerations surrounding these early photographs and reflects on the biases embedded in them. It also calls for and outlines potential frameworks for ‘fair and responsible’ representation of these images in contemporary settings, emphasizing the need for sensitivity in handling such cultural artifacts (Amerasinghe Ganendra 2023).


‘Sita Wanniya of Henebedda’, photographs from C.G. and B.Z. Seligmann, The Veddas (1911). British Library, T 11173, Plate V (p. 50) and Plate VI (p. 52).

Colonial Context and the Use of Photography
To understand the context in which the Seligman photographs were taken, it is essential to first explore the nature of British colonial presence in Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) and how photography was used as a tool of empire. British colonial policy in Ceylon, as in many other colonies, was grounded in the pursuit of power, profit, and prestige. Photography, emerging in the mid-19th century, became intertwined with colonial interests, portraying Indigenous people through a lens that emphasized their ‘exotic’ and ‘primitive’ qualities.

Ceylon, like India, saw a flourishing of commercial photographers in the 19th century, including names like Frederick Fiebig, Samuel Bourne, and Joseph Lawton, among others. Their work, often grouped under broad categories such as ‘ethnographic studies’ or ‘native types,’ served as visual documentation that reinforced stereotypes of indigenous peoples as culturally backward or inferior. These photographic genres, steeped in the prevailing racial hierarchies of the time, also reinforced the Vedda community’s “enduring marker” as an isolated, primitive group on the fringes of Sri Lankan society.

The Seligmans’ photographic project must be situated within this broader colonial tradition, where the visual documentation of ‘native’ populations was both a scholarly endeavour and an act of classification that supported colonial governance. Despite their groundbreaking contributions to the field of anthropology, the Seligmans were inevitably influenced by these biases, which framed the Veddas as a distinct and dying race worthy of preservation through scientific study.

The colonial portrayal of the Veddas did not begin with the Seligmans. The earliest English-language account of the community came from Robert Knox in 1681, whose description, despite being hearsay, remained an authoritative reference for over two centuries (Knox 1981b). Later colonial administrators and scholars, such as Rudolph Virchow and the Swiss naturalists Fritz and Paul Sarasin, echoed these notions of the Veddas as ‘intellectually inferior’ and ‘socially primitive’ (Virchow 1886; Kulatilake 2020).


‘A Vadda or Wild Man’. Robert Knox, An historical relation of the island Ceylon, 1681 (reprint; Colombo: Gunasena, 1981). British Library, YA.1988.b.25, p.100

These ideas were so pervasive that they coloured the work of subsequent anthropologists, including the Seligmans. This ‘Seligman bias,’ named here to reflect their role in reinforcing these perspectives, encapsulates the tendency to view the Veddas through a lens of isolation and stagnation, despite evidence of their dynamic interactions with other Sri Lankan groups. For example, the Seligmans repeatedly emphasized the Veddas’ physical and cultural distinctiveness from the Sinhalese, using selective observations to support this view, even when alternative explanations, such as the impact of nutrition on stature, were more plausible.

Legal and Ethical Constructs: Then and Now
When the Seligmans conducted their research, there were no ethical guidelines to dictate how indigenous subjects should be photographed or represented. Their project predated the formation of institutional ethics codes by decades, leaving researchers to rely on their own judgment, which was often skewed by contemporary scientific and cultural prejudices.

It was not until the mid-20th century that formal ethical constructs began to emerge, prompted by the horrors of World War II and the establishment of the United Nations, and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights in 1948.  The subsequent United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples 2007 codified principles of dignity and respect that extended to the cultural and intellectual property of indigenous communities. In more recent decades, guidelines such as the Code of Ethics for Research in the Social and Behavioural Sciences and the Global Code of Conduct for Research in Resource-Poor Settings have emphasized fairness, respect, and the need for collaboration with research subjects. These protocols require active engagement with the communities being represented, ensuring that their voices shape the narrative around their own histories.

Given the advances in both legal and ethical standards, how should we approach the Seligman Collection today? The main challenge lies in navigating the tension between preserving the historical significance of these photographs and addressing the biases they embody. Here are some considerations for presenting the Collection in a ‘fair and responsible’ manner:

1. Provide Historical and Ethical Context
Each photograph should be accompanied by a contextual preface that outlines the historical period in which it was taken and the lack of ethical guidelines at the time. This narrative should also highlight the possibility of unconscious bias in the Seligmans’ approach, inviting viewers to critically engage with the images.
2. Collaborate with the Vedda Community
The contemporary Vedda community should be involved in any effort to reframe or present these images. This collaboration could take the form of joint exhibitions, interpretive commentary, and decisions about which images are appropriate for public display. This approach not only aligns with modern ethical standards but also restores agency to the community that has historically been objectified.
3. Protect Sensitive and Sacred Content
Images that depict private or sacred aspects of Vedda life should be handled with extreme care. Unless the Vedda community explicitly consents, these photographs should not be publicly displayed. For example, images of women’s activities or rituals should be reserved for scholarly research only, with strict access protocols in place.
4. Rethink Representation
It is crucial to challenge the narratives that have long been associated with the Seligman images, namely that the Veddas are an isolated, primitive group. Instead, a more nuanced presentation should emphasise their resilience, adaptability, and historical interactions with other communities. This reframing can help dismantle the stereotypes that have contributed to their marginalization and erasure from the national narrative.

Moving Forward: Balancing Historical Value and Ethical Responsibility
The Seligman Collection holds immense historical value, providing rare visual documentation of a community at a particular point in time. Yet, as with any collection produced under colonial conditions, its legacy is fraught with ethical concerns. Addressing these concerns involves more than just reinterpreting the images; it requires a fundamental shift in how we approach early anthropological photography.

By embedding ethical considerations into the way these images are presented and interpreted, we not only honour the subjects of the photographs but also ensure that historical research contributes to a deeper, more respectful understanding of indigenous cultures, historically and into the present. This approach is not just a matter of correcting the biases of the past but of actively shaping a future in which indigenous voices are central to the telling of their own stories.

In conclusion, while the Seligman Collection emerged from a flawed historical context, it offers a unique opportunity to re-evaluate early ethnographic photography and its role in shaping public perceptions of Indigenous peoples. By embracing a framework of ‘fair and responsible’, we can re-present these images from relics of colonial anthropology into powerful tools for education, empathy, and engagement.

Shalini Amerasinghe Ganendra

This article is an abbreviated form of a presentation at the workshop at the National Portrait Gallery, London, “The British Empire in the Art Gallery: Practises, Discourses and Publics”, September 27, 2024. 

Further Reading:
Amerasinghe Ganendra, S. (2023). Veins of Influence: Colonial Sri Lanka (Ceylon) in Early Photographs and Collections. Colombo: Neptune.
Hight, Eleanor M. and Gary D. Sampson (2002). Colonialist Photography, Imag(in)ing Race and Place. London: Routledge.
Knox, Robert. (1981) An Historical Relation of the island Ceylon. Colombo: Gunasena.[Reprint of the 1681 ed.]
Kulatilake, S. (2020) ‘The Sarasins’ Collection of Historical Sri Lankan Crania’, Anthropological Science, 128(3), pp. 119–128.
Seligmann, C.G. and Brenda Z. (1911). The Veddas. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Stambler, B. (2019) ‘Context and Content: Colonial Photographs from Kandy, Ceylon’, in Cross-Cultural Exchange and the Colonial Imaginary: Global Encounters via Southeast Asia. NUS Press, pp. 217–238. 
Virchow, R. (1886) ‘The Veddás of Ceylon, and Their Relation to the Neighbouring Tribes’, The Journal of the Ceylon Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain & Ireland, 9(33), pp. 349–495.