Asian and African studies blog

This guest blog is by Lina Elhage-Mensching, Research Associate at Göttingen Academy of Sciences and Humanities in Lower Saxony.

This blog post is both a result and a demonstration of the valuable cooperation between the British Library and the Göttingen Digital Edition of the Coptic Old Testament project, of which the DFG-funded project Digital Edition and Critical Evaluation of the Coptic Holy Week Lectionary is a satellite project.[i] I wish to dedicate it to Mrs Ilana Tahan, who sadly passed away and whose contribution was key to the showcase presented in what follows.

The start of the readings from the Holy Week Lectionary, beginning with the passage for early Holy Monday, comprised of a reading from the "Torah of Moses" corresponding to the beginning of Genesis. (Holy Week Lectionary. Wādī Naṭrūn, Egypt, 990 AM/1273 CE. Add MS 5997, f 31r)

The showcase presents a manuscript that is preserved at the British Library in London under the shelfmark Add MS 5997.[ii] The manuscript under discussion was the primary source used by Oswald H.E. Burmester[iii] in his study of the structure of the Book of the Holy Pascha, i.e. the Holy Week lectionary used by the Coptic Orthodox Church.[iv] In particular, in volumes one and two of his Le Lectionnaire de la Semaine Sainte[v], O.H.E. Burmester (1897–1977) collated a total of 21 manuscripts, of which two are Sahidic and nineteen are Bohairic. As he noted, he published the text of the oldest dated Holy Week lectionary[vi] and gave a Concordance Table at the end of his edition with a comprehensive list of all readings derived from the various manuscripts he had studied in his work.[vii] On the ba­sis of his collation, Burmester indicates that, in consideration of the omissions and additions observed in the manu­scripts, the lectionaries could be divided into three categories. The first category comprises fifteen collated manuscripts that belong to the ‘normal type,’ and correspond to the current service of the Coptic Church. The second category is represented by two manuscripts that lack many pericopes of the Old Testament, which led Burmester to suppose that they mirrored the service before the revision by Peter of Behnesā.[viii] The third category is represented by four manuscripts with many additional readings for the day hours’ services, which Burmester assumed to be ar­ranged following Peter of Behnesā’s revision.[ix] The manuscript described in this showcase belongs to the second category.

A folio from the Lectionary featuring passages from the Gospels of Luke and John, as well as a strip from a Syriac manuscript used as a patch. (Holy Week Lectionary. Wādī Naṭrūn, Egypt, 990 AM/1273 CE. Add MS 5997, f 254r)

A Coptic Holy Week lectionary covers all the days from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday. During the course of Holy Week, each day is divided into ten hours, with five designated as ‘Hours of the Day’ and five as ‘Hours of the Eve’. The readings for each period are drawn from both the Old and New Testaments. Some Hours comprise more readings than others and extracts from homilies. Moreover, the Psalter in its entirety is recited on Holy Friday whereas the odes of the Old and the New Testament, the book of Revelation, and the Gospel according to John are read in full at various moments on Holy Saturday.[x] The Holy Week lectionary at issue is a bilingual Bohairic­–Arabic paper codex entitled كتاب البصخه المقدسه (The Book of the Holy Pascha), in Arabic only. Originating from Wādī Naṭrūn in Lower Egypt, it is dated to 22nd Toth, 990 AM = 19th September 1273 CE,[xi] The codex consists of 315 folios, measuring 247 x 342 mm each, and featuring a text in two columns of about 25 lines per column. The paper is most probably of local provenance with no watermarks. The parallel Bohairic and Arabic texts are liturgical readings, hymns and prayers for the period between the first Hour of the Eve of Palm Sunday and the first Hour of the Eve of Easter Monday. This lectionary follows the sequence of five Canonical Hours[xii] of the Eve (1st, 3rd, 6th, 9th and 11th Hour) and five Canonical Hours of the Day itself (1st, 3rd, 6th, 9th and 11th Hour) for every day of the Holy Week. There is also a 12th Hour on Holy Friday commemorating the entombment of Christ. The readings are pericopes from the Old Testament –the Pentateuch (Genesis, Exodus, Numbers, Deuteronomy), the Poetry and Wisdom books (Psalms, Proverbs, Job, Wisdom, Sirach), the Major Prophets (Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Daniel), the Minor Prophets (Hosea, Amos, Micah, Habakkuk, Zechariah, Malachi)– and from the New Testament, i.e., the Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke, John), the Acts of the Apostles, the Epistles of Paul (1Corinthians, 2Corinthians, Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians, 1Timothy Hebrews), and 1Peter. There are no homilies in this Holy Week lectionary.[xiii]

You will find a brief overview of the characteristics of this codex on the Catalog of the Holy Week Lectionary Bohairic website.

The codex structure can be viewed in the Göttingen Virtual Manuscript Room.

A semi-diplomatic edition of the complete codex can be viewed in the VMR workspace.

Since Burmester’s pioneering work, two dated Holy Week lectionaries from an earlier period have been identified. However, one is written entirely in Arabic, and only 26 fragmentary folios of the other survive. Although the manuscript Add MS 5997 preserved at the British Library is not the oldest extant dated Coptic Holy Week lectionary, it is the oldest complete bilingual one. It is therefore highly valuable for the study and research history of Coptic liturgical manuscripts, which is why it was chosen for the showcase.

Lina Elhage-Mensching
Research Associate, Göttingen Academy of Sciences and Humanities in Lower Saxony, currently working on the project ‘Digital Edition and Critical Evaluation of the Coptic Holy Week Lectionary.’

The frontispiece of the first sub' Sultan Baybars' Qur'an (Ibn al-Waḥīd, Cairo, 705 AH/1304-05 CE). (Add MS 22406 f 2v)

Why don’t you know where this manuscript came from?!? Even if the words don’t exit the lips of some researchers, you can occasionally feel them burning into your soul, transmitted by the frustrated gaze of an inquirer hungry to know who else might have read a book, benefitted from its wisdom, admired its beauty. While we would all love to have such information, sadly, it’s rarely at our fingertips. Once upon a time, record-keeping did not touch on provenance, meaning that creating a fuller picture of the origin of some manuscripts in our holdings requires research elsewhere. Such is the case for a few of our best-known works, the seven volumes of the Sultan Baybars’ Qur’an among them.

The Sultan Baybars’ Qur’an, copied in 704-05 AH (1304-06 CE) by Ibn al-Waḥīd for Baybars Jashankir, has been expertly described by our former Head of Middle East and Central Asia, Dr. Colin Baker, most recently in a post on the Asian and African Studies blog. While the digitized version of the Qur’an will not be accessible through the links he provided because of the cyber attack we suffered in October 2023, you can still view them on Archive.org. Information abounds about the art historical aspects of the work, but very little is known about how it ended up in the British Museum’s collection. A brief note at the back of the volume states that it was purchased from the book dealer T & W Boone on 12 June 1858, but that’s about it.

In May 2024, I had the great opportunity to meet Dr. Noha Abou-Khatwa of the American University in Cairo. She visited the Library to view the asbā’ themselves just after we re-opened access to restricted manuscripts. She shared some of her deep knowledge about the manuscript with me, which is why I returned to her in December to see if she’d learned anything more about the Qur’an’s history. She said that she presumed it had remained in its intended home, the Al-Ḥākim Mosque (مسجد الحاكم), for most of its life. She also pointed me to a recent chapter by Dr. Alison Ohta that mentions an inscription in Add MS 22412, the seventh sub’. (Ohta 2023, page 144 note 45) Ohta was wrong about the location (it’s in Add MS 22406, the first sub’), but right about the content. The brief pencil note says that the manuscript was “stated to have been brought from Cairo by an English Clergyman.” The signature beside it isn’t legible, so I was left stumped.

A letter from Reverend Benjamin Webb to Mountstuart Elphinstone. (Benjamin Webb, Brasted Rectory, 1 February 1854.) (MSS EUR F88/168/20 f 48r)

But I have options other researchers don’t. Namely, I can go into our storage basements, where I decided to see if there were Arabic manuscripts purchased from a named individual immediately around the Sultan Baybars’ Qur’an. I had some luck when I found, almost immediately before the first sub’, nine Arabic and Persian volumes acquired from Rev. Benjamin Webb on 8 May 1858. Webb – described as a “Clergyman” on Wikipedia – was well-connected and active as an academic, but I could find no record of his ever having been to Egypt. When I called up some of his letters held in the India Office Records, I discovered that in 1854, when his father-in-law William Hodge Mill died, Webb was left to sort out his affairs. Mill was the first Principal of Bishop’s College in Kolkata and his library included some 70-odd “Arabic + Persian MSS.” (MSS EUR/F88/168 f. 48r) Here, I thought, was a breakthrough: maybe Mill bought the Qur’an in Egypt on his way back from India?

The answer might lay in Webb’s journals. So off I went to the Bodleian, in Oxford, to consult these. I have often thought myself clever for making personal notes in Turkish or Arabic. Now that I have tortured myself going through Webb’s half-English, half-Latin notes about his daily schedule, I will never do that again. These notebooks had little to offer me, except the brief remark that Webb visited the British Museum on 29 April 1858 to show some of his manuscripts to Sir Frederic Madden, a famed English paleographer and Keeper of Manuscripts at the BM between 1837 and 1866. (Bodleian MS Eng Misc.e.412, f 18r) Madden’s journal was also at the Bodleian, so I placed an order, went for lunch, and came back an hour and a half later with little hope I’d find something useful.

I was wrong. Where Webb was terse and bilingual, Madden was expansive (and only wrote in English). He didn’t just note absolutely everything, he also imposed a system of internal references between the daily entries in his journal. That’s how I found the entry from May 1858 in which he states that “Boone […?] a volume of a magnificent Koran written A.D. 1306 in letters of gold, in large folio. It is said to belong to a clergyman who purchased it at Cairo. I should much like to buy it at a moderate price.” (Bodleian MS Eng Hist.c.171, p. 195) Just above the word “Cairo” is a note to see page 300, referring to 24 August 1858. In the main text, Madden writes: “Inquired respecting the fine Coran bought of him + was now told that it belonged to an artist, whose name was not known, but that a clerk of Christie’s named Wood had negotiated for him. I shall [request?] more information when Mr. B the […?] returns.*” The asterisk leads us to the bottom of the page, where Madden adds: “It did not belong to an artist, but the Rev. Francis Frith, who purchased it a ruined mosque in Egypt, it is believed, in Cairo. He is now gone to the White Nile.” (Bodleian MS Eng Hist.c.171, p. 300; emphasis Madden’s) Eureka! We have a name!

A self-portrait of Francis Frith in Ottoman costume. (Francis Frith, printed by Paul Pretsch, 1857).
© Public Domain, provided by the Albertina Museum through Europeana.

But now the question is: just who was this Francis Frith? If you’ve followed the link before continuing with my story, you’ll see that he was no Man of the Cloth. In fact, Francis or Frances Junior was born on 7 October 1822 in Chesterfield, Derbyshire, and was an exceptionally successful photographer and businessman. His fame came from the mission he and his wife Mary Ann Rosling set for themselves in 1860: to photograph every town and village in Great Britain. This is largely the reason why Frith’s work can be found in institutions such as the National Portrait Gallery, likely linked in the metadata to the company he founded, Francis Frith & Co. Frith died in 1898, having left his mark on British photography and photographic publishing. The company he founded only closed in 1971, its archive eventually being bought, preserved, and scanned, to become the Francis Frith Collection. Francis’ impact has also been immortalized as part of the BBC documentary Britain’s First Photo Album .

Wait a minute – what about Egypt? Rewind to the mid-1850s, when Frith was just getting on his feet as a photographer. In 1856, the bachelor Frith set out for Egypt and West Asia, making three trips that covered Egypt, Nubia, Ethiopia, Palestine, Lebanon and Syria. His photographs of these travels are clearly identified as being part of the Orientalist movement. Many of them cemented the visual conceptualization – now supposedly made factual through the science of photography – of a decadent, languid, declining Orient. He seems to have been keen to photograph ruins as well as some of the natural wonders of the region, with a heavy dose of sites linked to Biblical narratives. This last part should not be a surprise, as Frith became a Quaker minister (is this what “Reverand Francis Frith” meant?) of a rather unorthodox sort. The first mention of his ministry, according to the Friends’ Quarterly Examiner, is 1872, after which he got into a spot of trouble with the publication of the controversial pamphlet A Reasonable Faith.

"Cairo from the East," one of Frith's photos of the Egyptian capital. 
© Public Domain, provided by the Rijksmuseum through Europeana.

Frith, according to Caroline Williams, was an avid reader of published works about Egypt in the early 1850s and particularly motivated by the Orientalist paintings of David Roberts. He did, however, believe he could do better by bringing realistic photographic representations of Egypt back to English viewers. And so, between September 1856 and June 1857, and again between November 1857 and May 1858, he travelled across Egypt, Nubia, Palestine and Syria. He did a third trip in late 1859-1860, this time going down the Nile to Ethiopia and then back up again through Sinai into Gaza. Williams provides a masterful explanation of the Frith’s importance for Orientalist photography and the challenges he faced in enacting it given the technology at his disposal and the specificities of Egyptian buildings and scenery. But perhaps we’ve gone too far. What about the manuscripts?

The answer lies in a beautiful publication of the Frith Foundation marrying Frith’s own photographs and texts, with those of his contemporaries editors Sophia Lane Poole and her son Reginald Poole, and Egyptologist Richard Lunn, who provided his own modern photographs of Egypt. Here, on pages 40-41, as if hiding in plain sight, comes the clearest statement yet about Frith’s initial transaction for Sultan Baybars’ Qur’an:

“I spent a summer in Cairo, and its neighbourhood… spent intervals of six weeks, in alternate fits of storm and calm, bargaining with a mysterious priest who visited me by night, and at length accepted one sixth part of what he first asked, for a splendid, illuminated copy of the Koran, seven hundred years old, in seven huge volumes, written in gold letters an inch high (now in the British Museum; perhaps the finest copy in Europe).” (Lunn 2005, pp. 40-41)

There can be no doubt that this was, and is, Sultan Baybars’ Qur’an. We therefore know, given the description, that Frith likely acquired it in 1857.

"The Mosque of El-Hakim" as found in the Lane and Poole's mammoth collection of Frith photographs taken across North-East Africa and West Asia. (Lane and Poole, Cairo, Sinai, Jerusalem and the Pyramids of Egypt) (London: James S. Virtue, 1860). 

And the priest? We now have so many versions of who bought what where from whom as to make the truth seem ever elusive. I think Frith’s account is possible, but excessively improbable. To paraphrase Noir fiction: of all the Europeans in all the tents in Cairo, he had to pick Frith? Surely, Umm al-Dunya had no shortage of art-hungry, rich Europeans who might pay more than a 35-year old, relatively novice photographer. To be serious, however, let’s return to Abou-Khatwa’s supposition that the Qur’an remained in the Mosque of al-Ḥākim. We know that Frith was at the Mosque in 1857 because Sophia Lane Poole and Reginald Poole’s Cairo, Sinai, Jerusalem, and the pyramids of Egypt : a series of sixty photographic views, published in 1860, contains not one but two of Frith’s photographs of the mosque. And Frith’s Egypt and Palestine Photographed and Described by Francis Frith contains one of these views of the Mosque, along with the same text found in Lane and Poole’s publication. I think it most likely that, if the manuscript was indeed kept there, Frith began his negotiations at the Mosque and they continued until he successfully acquired the seven volumes. The story of the furtive visits might be based on some nugget of truth, but I suspect that it was intended as an embellishment to increase the romanticism of Frith’s account, a surefire way to improve the appeal of any Orientalist text.

But who was this mysterious priest, or, more appropriately, counterparty? How did they have access to the manuscript and why were they willing to sell it at a bargain price? The answers to these questions, sadly, aren’t found in any of the sources I’ve mentioned here. They likely lie elsewhere, either in Frith’s personal papers, possibly at the Francis Frith Collection, or in Cairo, at the Mosque itself. Perhaps this short foray into the provenance of the Sultan Baybars’ Qur’an will spur some other curious soul to follow up on those threads.

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

I would like to extend my sincere thanks to Dr. Noha Abou-Khatwa for her guidance and immense knowledge on the Sultan Baybars’ Qur’an and all matters Mamluk.

Works Consulted

Frith, Francis, Egypt and Palestine photographed and described (London: James S. Virtue, 1858-59).

Lane Poole, Sophia and Poole, Reginald, Egypt, Sinai and Jerusalem: a series of twenty photographic views by Francis Frith with descriptions by Mrs. Poole and Reginald Stuart Poole (London: James S. Virtue, 1860).

Lunn, Richard, Francis Frith’s Egypt and the Holyland: The Pioneering Photographic Expeditions to the Middle East (London: The Francis Frith Collection, 2005).

Madden, Frederick. Journal, 1858. Bodleian Library, MS. Eng. hist. c. 171.

Ohta, Alison Aplin, ‘Mamluk Qurʾans: Splendor and Opulence of the Islamic Book,’ in Rettig, Simon and Sana Mirza (ed.), The word illuminated: form and function of Qur'anic manuscripts from the seventh to seventeenth centuries (Washington D.C.: The Smithsonian Scholarly Press, 2023), pp. 123-146.

Webb, Benjamin. Journal, 1858. MS. Eng. misc. e. 412.

Webb, Benjamin, Letter from Reverend Benjamin Webb at Brasted Rectory, to Mountstuart Elphinstone , 1 February 1854. British Library, Mss Eur F88/168/20.

Williams, Caroline, ‘A Nineteenth-Century Photographer: Francis Frith’ in Janet Starkey and Paul Starkey (ed.), Travellers in Egypt (London: I.B. Tauris, 1998), pp. 168-178.

The opening page of the Mir'at featuring a richly decorated unvan with gold floral decorations and a description, in Ottoman (in Osman Reşer's hand?) of the name, date and authorship of the work. (Mekkî Ali, Mir'atü'l-hubûş. Cairo?, 1020 AH/1611-12 CE). (Or 11226, f 1v)

It’s not uncommon to find texts within our Ottoman holdings that speak to the history and culture of regions across Eurasia, and even the Americas. Whether translations of Arabic and Persian texts, or original Ottoman compositions, the manuscripts attest a keen interest in West Asia, South-East Europe, North Africa, the Hejaz, and Iran. And, of course, among the first printed books produced in the Ottoman Empire was the Tarihü’l-Hindü’l-garbî, a guide to the Americas cobbled together from Spanish and Italian sources. One volume that we hold, however, provides a different view to a particular Ottoman’s interest in a neighbouring Empire not often featured in other Ottoman works.

Or 11226, known as the Mir’atü’l-hubûş (Mirror of the Ethiopians), is a rare text in both Arabic and Ottoman Turkish that explores the origins, culture, religion, and relations of the Ethiopians (hubûş). Copied by Mekkî Ali İbn-i Mustafa İbn-i Ali el-Müderris in 1020 AH (1611-12 CE), the volume collates information gathered from myriad Arabic sources, including collections of aḥādīth. The British Museum purchased it from the well-known Istanbul-based dealer Osman Reşer né Oskar Rescher on 10 May 1930. To date, I have found only one other copy of the Mir’at, a manuscript from 1020 AH held at the Süleymaniye Kütüphanesi (Esat Efendi 484) in İstanbul. The microfilm of the manuscript is described in an article in Adıyaman Üniversitesi Sosyal Bilimler Enstitüsü Dergisi by Dr. Metin Demirci of Kahramanmaraş Sütçü İmam Üniversitesi. An English-language description of the work and its creator, fully contextualized among the other Ottoman texts about Ethiopians, was authored by Dr. Baki Tezcan in 2018 as part of the volume Disliking Others: Loathing, Hostility, Distrust in Premodern Ottoman Lands.

The title of the work, identifying Mekkî Ali in the same fashion as the Süleymaniye copy, and an ownership seal from Şeyh Ahmet Nehir (?) dated 1169 AH/1755-56 CE. (Mekkî Ali, Mir'atü'l-hubûş. Cairo?, 1020 AH/1611-12 CE). (Or 11226, f 1r)

Both the microfilm and the original manuscript are available on the Türkiye Yazma Eserler Kurumu Başkanlığı’s Database of Manuscripts. This provides us with the lucky opportunity to compare the manuscripts, despite their homes being at either end of Europe.

The Arabic-language start of the Mir'at including an explanation of the motivation for its authorship. (Mekkî Ali, Mir'atü'l-hubûş. Cairo?, 1020 AH/1611-12 CE). (Or 11226, ff 4r-v)

To start, the organization of the text is not quite the same in both copies. Both begin with a lengthy preamble glorifying Allah and his division of the peoples of the world into different races and ethnic groups, as well as describing the author’s motivations and praise for Sultan Ahmet I (reigned 1603-17 CE). Mekkî Ali does this first in Arabic and then in Ottoman, with the Ottoman providing occasional commentary on difficult words. From this section, we learn that Mekkî Ali travelled throughout Makkah, Madinah and other Arab lands between 980 and 995 AH (1572-86 CE; according to my reading of the Arabic text) and then, struck by a longing to return to them, he decided to uproot his family from Bursa, where he was a religious scholar or professor (müderris) and relocate to Makkah. While there, he was wowed by the diversity of people he met. He continued to be in awe of them after returning to “diyâr-i Rûm” (Anatolia) in 1007 AH (1598-99 CE), pushed by unfortunate and unfavourable occurrences to leave the Holy Cities. Tezcan clarifies that these circumstances were likely his refusal of a post in Madinah. After his return, Mekkî Ali decided to convert this wonder into a textual account of the Ethiopians, to pay tribute to those whose qualities he had admired.

The end of Mekkî Ali's explanation of the contents of the work including a marginal note. (Mekkî Ali, Mir'atü'l-hubûş. Cairo?, 1020 AH/1611-12 CE). (Or 11226, f 11r)

The alternation of Arabic and Ottoman Turkish with explanations continues through a Mukaddime, and then four ebvâp, each of which contains five fusûl. The first bap describes the merits of the Ethiopians; the second tackles the origins and characteristics of Najashi, the Aksumite King who gave refuge to early Muslims fleeing Makkah; the third, the Ethiopian Companions of the Prophet Muhammad (الصحابة); the fourth explores cultured Muslim notables of Ethiopian extraction (اهل الآداب في اصل الحبوش), before a very brief ending (but not a hatime). A brief marginal note on f 11r explains that fasleyn 4 and 5 of bâp 3 have been merged. This is because of the author’s inability to distinguish between various notables springing from Ethiopian mothers and the men of the Quraysh and the ṣaḥābah on the one hand and those springing from the Bayt al-ṭāhirīn and the ‘abbasī Caliphs on the other. In general, the sections aimed to provide readers with an understanding of the early history of the Ethiopians; their social and political divisions; and their importance in the early history of Islam.

Demirci describes the Arabic sections as explanations of the Ottoman parts, but, in fact, the Arabic text (overlined in red in the British Library copy only) always precedes the Ottoman. Indeed, a closer look at the two versions of the Mir’at shows that it is the British Library one, rather than the Sülemaniye copy, that is the more complete version, as the latter awkwardly skips a large section of Arabic text found on BL Or 11226 ff 4v-5r where Mekkî Ali explains he has gathered Arabic-language sources “translating them into Turkish so that their benefits are generalized and their comprehension easy.” (“ومترجما بعده باللسان التركي ليعم نفعه ويسهل فهمه”) The Ottoman sections, then, are translations replete with additional glosses to assist readers in understanding complex words and phrasing. As Tezcan points out, the Mir’at is part of a longer Arabic-language tradition of writing about Africans. Indeed, the Arabic texts include a marginal مطلب explaining the content, present throughout the BL text and at the front of the Süleymaniye copy, but absent from the Ottoman translations in both, which is why I assume the Arabic is original rather than a ta‘rīb of the Turkic text.

Apart from the missing sections of the Arabic text, the Süleymaniye copy follows much the same structure as the British Library one, but there are obvious differences in calligraphy and embellishment. While the Süleymaniye copy has lovely, even nesih that sits very firmly on a lower line, the BL’s holding is more cursive, a bit quicker and even occasionally sloppier, contrasting with its gold text frames and elaborate unvan. Moreover, despite a few marginal notes in the Süleymaniye copy, it is largely a clean one, while the Ottoman, and occasionally the Arabic, texts in the British Library copy have interlinear additions and corrections.

The Mir'at's colophon, including the name of the copyist and his profession, as well as the date. (Mekkî Ali, Mir'atü'l-hubûş. Cairo?, 1020 AH/1611-12 CE). (Or 11226, f 115v)

The colophon for the British Library copy appears to have been added after the completion of the volume. When compared to the Sülemaniye copy, which has only the simple statement that the work was completed by the grace of God, our holding is far more verbose and eloquent. The author of the Süleymaniye copy is only identified by a brief inscription on the top-left of the first folio where the author’s name is only given as Mekkî Alî el-Mes’ûl, possibly in a similar hand to the colophon of Or 11226. A similar note is found on f 1r of Or 11226. But in our copy's colophon, in contrast, in an almost-nestalik hand, the scribe identifies himself as Makkī ‘alī bin Muṣṭafá bin ‘alī al-mudarris of the Medrese-yi Valide-yi Sultan Mehmet Han İbn-i Murat Han at that time. The use of the Arabic adverb يومئذ (on that day) indicates that either he or his grandfather was a teacher when the text was copied, but I think it most likely that the epithet relates to Ali the grandson and not the grandfather. The school that he refers to might be the Safiya Mosque Complex in Cairo, constructed in 1019 AH (1610-11 CE) and dedicated to the Safiye Sultan, mother of III. Mehmet Sultan. The complex was initially under the supervision of the former Chief Eunuch of the Court Osman Ağa, loyal to Safiye Sultan throughout decades of Palace intrigues.

But this does not quite accord with Tezcan’s estimation of the author. He identifies Mekkî Ali as Ali Habî, “a professor of law from Bursa who is known to have held an appointment in Mecca in 1005/1596-97.” Tezcan has made use of considerable external resources to match the biography provided at the start of the Mir’at, coming up with a jurist who might fit the bill. In both copies, Mekkî Ali makes reference to a patron or protector, Mustafa Ağa, whom, based on the Ottoman Turkish description on f 7v of the Süleymaniye copy, Tezcan identifies as the Chief Eunuch, an Ethiopian himself. There are only minor changes in the honourifics found in the same passage of the British Library copy, but Or 11226’s Arabic text describes this patron as Muṣṭafá Aghā bin ‘abd al-Mannān. I’ve yet to find a source with the name of Mustafa Ağa’s father, but, of course, such information might help us to determine a bit more about Mekkî Ali’s identity and allegiances.

There are plenty of unanswered questions around Mir’atü’l-hubûş. For some time, scholars have sought to answer these making use of only one copy of the work. The comparison of the Süleymaniye and British Library copies will undoubtedly help to clarify some of these mysteries, perhaps creating new ones along the way.

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

I'd like to thank Shalom Njoki of Queen Mary's University for pointing me to Dr. Baki Tezcan's chapter. 

Further Reading

Demirci, M. (2020) ‘Fakîr Mekkî Ali’nin Hāẕā Mir’ātu’l-hubūş fi’l-uṣūl Adlı Elyazma Eseri.’ Adıyaman Üniversitesi Sosyal Bilimler Enstitüsü Dergisi , 13, 34: 50-91.

Hathaway, J. (2018) The Chief Eunuch of the Ottoman Harem: From African Slave to Power Broker (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press) (YC.2019.a.10249)

Junne, G. (2016) The Black Eunuchs of the Ottoman Empire: Networks of Power in the Court of the Sultan (London: I.B. Tauris). (YC.2017.a.9466)

Tezcan, B. (2018) “Dispelling the Darknessof the Halberdier’s Treatise : A Comparative Look at Black Africans in Ottoman Letters in the Early Modern Period.” Karateke, H., Çıpa, H., Anetshofer, H., Disliking Others: Loathing, Hostility, Distrust in Premodern Ottoman Lands (Boston: Academic Studies Press): 43-74. (YC.2019.a.4967)

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).

‘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)

Launched on 22 October 2014, the Qatar Digital Library (QDL) was developed as part of a longstanding partnership between the Qatar Foundation, the Qatar National Library, and the British Library. The partnership includes the digitisation of a wide range of material from the British Library’s collections, aimed at improving understanding of the modern history of the Gulf, Arabic cultural heritage, and the Islamic world.

Since the QDL’s launch, nearly two and a half million images have been published, mainly deriving from two collections held by the British Library: the India Office Records (IOR) and Private Papers, and the Library’s Arabic manuscripts collection. A small selection of items held by the Qatar National Library also features on the website. Published alongside all these images are detailed catalogue descriptions, available in English and Arabic.

The QDL’s expert articles

Since 2014, in addition to producing more and more images and accompanying catalogue descriptions, a dedicated team of experts working on the QDL has published a supplementary selection of 239 expert articles, mostly written by British Library curatorial, conservation, and cataloguing staff, with a small number of guest contributors. These articles are brief yet informative pieces, which aim to appeal to a range of audiences, from the casual reader to the serious researcher. They introduce users to the material, while detailing the records’ provenance and historical significance. They also highlight important subjects and themes and share fascinating stories found within the records.

The homepage of the QDL’s expert articles section

Types of articles

The types of articles vary. There are introductory pieces on the material and the people and organisations behind its creation. There are overviews of certain parts of the collections, be it an IOR series, a set of private papers, or those records relating to a specific subject. There are vignettes shedding light on rare finds and overlooked or relatively unknown individuals. There are country profiles and other articles on specific countries in the Gulf, including this one featuring some of the earliest surviving aerial photographs of Qatar. There are also more discursive pieces, many of which touch on British imperialist interests in the Gulf and the ways in which these manifested themselves.

Alongside these are several articles on the musical traditions of the Gulf, including ones with a specific focus on Kuwait, Qatar, and Oman. Other pieces explore the development of sawt (the urban music of the Gulf, which is thought to originate in Kuwait) in Kuwait and Bahrain, as well as the history of lesser-known musical genres in the region. Part of the partnership’s remit involves the digitisation of shellac recordings from the Gulf and wider region. While the recordings digitised to date are not yet hosted directly on the QDL, some of the music-related articles include embedded Soundcloud tracks.

Introductory articles

It is possible to browse the expert articles via several categories. The first of these, named ‘Introductory Articles’, mainly features short pieces introducing the collections and their creators, and is perhaps the best place to start for those who are new to the material. There is an article on the Library’s Arabic Manuscripts collection, and one on the India Office Records and Private Papers, as well as separate articles that look at the India Office Records and the Private Papers in greater detail. There are also articles on the two organisations that produced the India Office Records, namely the East India Company, and its successor, the India Office.

One of the QDL’s most viewed articles, in English and in Arabic, A Brief History of the English East India Company.

Other pieces within this section provide summaries of certain parts of the IOR collection, including an overview of the IOR Map Collection, and two more articles focusing on IOR maps. In addition, within the same category are several pieces with ‘Finding Aid’ in their titles, each exploring a particular IOR series. Individual series covered thus far include the following: IOR/F/4, IOR/G/29, IOR/L/MAR, IOR/L/MIL, IOR/L/PS/10, IOR/L/PS/12, IOR/R/15/1, IOR/R/15/2, IOR/R/15/4, IOR/R/15/5, and IOR/R/15/6. There are also ‘Finding Aid’ articles on the private papers of two notable British imperialists, Lewis Pelly and George Curzon. Eventually, the range of ‘Finding Aid’ style articles will be expanded to include not only those on specific IOR series, but also pieces on significant subject matter featured across various parts of the IOR collection. The first of these is a piece highlighting the various sources on the QDL relating to Palestine.

An extract from the QDL expert article, Finding Aid: Sources on Palestine.

Other categories and filters

There are several other categories through which to explore the articles. These are as follows: The British Empire in the Gulf; People and Places; Sciences and Medicine; Sound and Music; Arabic Manuscripts; Commerce and Communication; Culture and Religion; Power and Politics. Many of these overlap (i.e. an article may appear in more than one category). It is also possible to filter the articles by country and by date (beginning at pre-1600 and ending at 1900-49). There is insufficient space to go through all the categories here, so what follows is a selection of highlights representing the diverse range of articles.

Articles that illustrate points of intersection between Library collections

There are several articles that are not only interesting and revealing for their subject matter, but which also illustrate points of intersection between the different collections on the QDL. These include two articles on East India Company men who collected Arabic manuscripts, a piece on a Baghdadi bookdealer who also worked as a translator for the India Office, and an article on the imperialist provenance of the Delhi Manuscript Collection.

An extract from the QDL expert article, The Baghdadi Bookseller of Bloomsbury.

Articles resulting from collaborative work between different teams and specialists

Every article published on the QDL requires extensive collaboration, not least in the translation of the text into Arabic and the selection of illustrative images. Some pieces have also required collaboration at the research and writing stages, involving different teams and specialists. These include the following: a piece on the history and imagery of watermarks in paper; a co-authored article on the ‘Bania’ in the Gulf and the ways in which they are depicted in IOR files and volumes; an article on the important historical context behind the use of the term ‘piracy’ among British officials serving in the Gulf. Whilst many articles on the QDL do so implicitly, the latter two pieces explicitly stress the need for the records to be read critically through the prism of certain ideas that were prevalent among colonial officials of the time, especially those relating to racial, cultural, and national distinctions.

An extract from the QDL expert article, The Imagery of Early Watermarks.

Bookends of the British Empire

The QDL features material spanning virtually the entire era of British presence in the Gulf, covering the early 17th century to the mid-20th century. Articles on early British involvement in the Gulf include a ‘Finding Aid’ piece on the IOR/L/MAR series (i.e. the Marine Department Records, dated 1600-c. 1879) and an article on the third voyage of the East India Company (1607-10). Several articles cover the last decades of the British Empire, but two notably address the subject directly. One discusses the personal memoirs of former officers of the Indian Political Service (IPS) and their reflections on the final years of British India, including reminiscences of time served in the Gulf. The other marks a significant turning point in the immediate post-war period, in which the United States replaced Britain as Saudi Arabia’s key western sponsor and protector, thereby paving the way for it to become the predominant imperialist power in the region.

Articles on women in the records

As in many archival collections, women are under-represented in the records, and those who do feature are largely misrepresented. Two distinct but related articles touch on this issue while discussing the roles of women in 19th century Oman. One tells the story of Muzah bint Ahmad Al Bu Sa‘id, who, in the absence of her nephew the Imam of Muscat, took charge and defended his territories. The other challenges long-held assumptions about women in 19th century Omani society. Women are also discussed, albeit somewhat more peripherally, in an article concerning United States Christian missionaries in mid-20th century Bahrain and in a piece on the use of ice in the Gulf.

An extract from the QDL expert article, In the Absence of Men: Female Leaders in 1832 Oman.

Articles on language and terminology

Given the QDL is a bilingual site containing material in numerous languages (predominantly English and Arabic, though various others also feature), it seems fitting to highlight several articles that cover the subject of language and terminology. One is a piece on the Christian Arab Hunayn ibn Ishaq (809-873 CE), who translated into Arabic and Syriac all the books of Galen that were available to him. The article focuses on Hunayn’s bold but crucial decision to translate literally (rather than simply transliterate) essential Greek medical terms, making them comprehensible to all readers of Arabic. Terminology in IOR material is discussed in a trilogy of articles on nautical terms in the age of sail.

An extract from the QDL expert article, Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq and the Rise of Arabic as a Language of Science.

More to discover, and more to come

The sixty articles cited in this post amount to just over a quarter of the total number currently available. There are many more waiting to be discovered. Meanwhile, the team of experts working on the QDL is busy writing and preparing more articles for new and existing users alike.

David Fitzpatrick, Content Specialist, Archivist, British Library/Qatar Foundation Partnership

In early March 1917, British forces led by Lieutenant-General Fredrick Stanley Maude captured the Vilayet (province) of Baghdad, which had been under Ottoman control since the sixteenth century. On March 19, Maude made his famous Proclamation of Baghdad in which he addressed the Iraqi people in the name of the British King and assured them that the British troops roaming their towns and cities were there not “as conquerors or enemies, but as liberators”.

Points 1 & 2 of Maude’s Proclamation (British Library IOR/L/PS/18/B253, f 122r).
Public domain

Maude spoke as if the Empire he represented had acted on behalf of Iraqis themselves, casting the Ottoman Empire in the role of a villain. “Your lands have been subject to the tyranny of strangers,” he proclaimed, “your wealth has been stripped from you by unjust men and squandered in distant places.”

Point 3 of Maude’s Proclamation (British Library IOR/L/PS/18/B253, f 122r).
Public domain

He went on to portray Ottoman rule of Iraq as a reign of “oppression and division,” in contrast to a narrative of friendship between Great Britain and the people of Baghdad.

Points 5 & 6 of Maude’s Proclamation (British Library IOR/L/PS/18/B253, f 122r)
Public domain

Flattering the people of Baghdad, Maude called on the need for the “Arab race” to “rise once more to greatness and renown among the peoples of the earth.”

Points 8 & 9 of Maude’s Proclamation (British Library IOR/L/PS/18/B253, f 122v).
Public domain

The British Government praised Maude’s Proclamation seeing it as unlike any previous wartime speech. The Proclamation was regarded as another chapter to The Thousand and One Nights (initially translated to English as The Arabian Nights). 

Government praise of Maude’s Proclamation (British Library IOR/L/PS/10/666, f 148r).
Public domain

Over the three years following Maude’s Proclamation, the British broke their promises and inflamed sectarian divisions among the Iraqis. Iraqis rose up against the British occupiers in what has since been commemorated as Thawrat al-‘Ishrin (the Revolution of 1920). Iraqis refused British occupation of their land, their harassment of Iraqis’ lives, and their attempts to dictate how Iraqis would be governed.

The Iraqi refusal of the British occupation is commemorated in an Iraqi folk song Chal Chal ‘Alayya al-Rumman which stands out as a coded song of resistance. Not much is known about its writer or composer, but it is believed that the song goes back to the early 1920s, and could also have appeared during the Revolution itself. The song is popular for its metaphorical lyrics, which alludes to Iraq’s political realities.

Its first stanza says:

 چل چل عليَّ الرُّمان، نومي فزع لي
Chal chal ‘alayya al-rumman, numi fiza‘li

هذا الحلو ما ريده، ودُّوني لاهلي
Hadha el-hilu ma ridah, wadduni lahli

The literal meaning is:

Pomegranate has loomed above me for too long, lime came to my aid
I do not want this sweet/fine one; take me to my people

The pomegranate in the stanza refers to the Ottomans who are associated with the colour red, either as a metonym of the colour of the fez usually worn by Ottoman officials and effendis, or as a metaphor of the fruit itself which had long been associated with Ottoman court decoration, and Sultan’s outfits.

The poet’s use of the lime as a metonym for the British is often interpreted as a reference to their light skin colour, though it may be related to the more famous pejorative ‘lime-juicer’ or ‘limey,’ used to describe British naval personnel (whose rations included citrus to help stave off scurvy). The line says that after long being occupied by the Ottomans, the British came to my aid. I want neither of these—the pomegranate or the citrus—I want to rule myself.

The second stanza says:

يا يُمَّه لا تنطرين بطلي النطارة
Ya yumma la tnutreen, batli l-intara

ما جوز أنا من هواي ماكو كل شارة
Ma juz ana min huwai, maku kul shara

The literal meaning is:

Oh mother, stop waiting for me
I am not going to give up on my beloved, there is no way I would do that

The ‘beloved’ in the stanza is Iraq; meaning that those who revolted against the British would never give up on their demand to free their homeland.

One of the earliest recordings of the song was made by Iraqi Maqam singer Yusuf Umar. A digital version of the recording is available on Soundcloud.

The song continues to be a reminder of Iraqis’ resistance to the occupation of their land. That this notion continues to resonate is evidenced by the fact that various artists from Iraq and across the Arab World continues to record and perform it. Some examples include:

• the Iraqi singer and composer Ilham al-Madfai’s recording
• the Egyptian singer and composer Hamza Namira, who made slight changes to the lyrics in his version
• And, the Syrian-Palestinian singer Abo Gabi’s rendition

Ula Zeir, Content Specialist/ Arabic Language and Gulf History

Further reading:

British Library, India Office Records, ‘Baghdad’, IOR/L/PS/18/B253 ('Baghdad' | Qatar Digital Library (qdl.qa)

British Library, India Office Records, File 978/1917 Pt 1 'Mesopotamia: administration; occupation of Baghdad; the proclamation; Sir P Cox's position', IOR/L/PS/10/666 (File 978/1917 Pt 1 'Mesopotamia: administration; occupation of Baghdad; the proclamation; Sir P Cox's position' | Qatar Digital Library (qdl.qa)

Dhafir Qasim Al Nawfa, ‘Jaljal ‘Alayya al-Rumman Numi Fiza‘li’, Azzaman newspaper, 21 Jan 2017.

Ula Zeir, ‘Baghdad in British Occupation: the Story of Overprinted Stamps’ British Library,' in Untold lives blog.

Colophon to an anonymous compendium of medicine (Or 9007, f. 134r).

The British Library/Qatar Foundation Partnership (the ‘Qatar Project’) is a collaborative digitisation and cataloguing project, the primary output of which is the Qatar Digital Library (https://www.qdl.qa/en). This fully bilingual (Arabic/English) online resource makes available a wealth of historical documentation relating to the Gulf region, as well as Arabic manuscripts on scientific topics and short articles relating to the contents and contexts of these archives and manuscripts.

Phase Three of the Qatar Project began in January 2019 with the addition of a new member of the manuscript team. We could little have imagined how much our working practices would be upended by the impact of the Covid pandemic, which struck a little over a year later.

Page from Anwār Khulāṣat al-ḥisāb by ʻIṣmat Allāh ibn Aʻẓam al-Sahāranfūrī (IO Islamic 1582, f. 13r).

Covid impacts

At the best of times, the progression of a single manuscript, from the moment it is retrieved from the basement shelves, through all the stages of conservation assessment, cataloguing, digitisation, image quality control, editorial checks, translation of the catalogue record, and the final integration of images, catalogue text, and metadata ultimately culminating in upload to the site, can take up to a year. The impact of Covid increased these timescales even further.

Diagram of four of the seven ‘degrees’ (بحور), a type of modal structure, from Kitāb al-inʿām bi-maʿrifat al-anghām by Shams al-Dīn al-Ṣaydāwī (Or 13019, f. 12r).

Working remotely necessitated various modifications to our workflow, primarily in swapping the order in which cataloguing and imaging take place, so that cataloguing teams could remotely access images captured by the digitisation team. In the confusion of spring 2020, these altered ways of working took a while to get in place, and while they facilitated continued cataloguing, they also depended on imaging colleagues being physically on site. Requirements for social distancing within the enclosed environment of the imaging studio also drastically reduced the amount of work the imaging team could achieve. Furthermore, no new manuscripts were able to enter the workflow without undergoing conservation assessment- another job that cannot be done from home! We are very thankful to the imaging and conservation teams, as well as all other colleagues who opted to come on site when permitted, for facilitating progress of the many subsequent stages within the Qatar Project’s workflow. 

Diagram accompanying Chapter Nine: Construction of ‘the Spiral' (al-ḥalzūn), from Mukhtaṣar fī ṣanʿat baʿḍ al-ālāt al-raṣadīyah wa-al-ʿamal bihā by al-Birjandī (IO Islamic 4419, f. ‎43v).

We were able to gradually return to the offices in autumn 2020. Manuscript curators were eagerly anticipating the joys of getting out their light sheets and tape measures and inhaling the smell of aged paper.

Part of contents list from al-Mukhtār min kutub al-ikhtiyārāt al-falakīyah by Yaḥyá ibn Jarīr al-Takrītī (Or 5709, f. 6r). 

Despite all these challenges, the Qatar Project as a whole was able to celebrate the upload of the two millionth image to the Qatar Digital Library towards the end of Phase Three, which wrapped up in June 2022.

Summary of locations the author journeyed to during his mission in Spain, from Natījat al-ijtihād fī al-muhādanah wa-al-jihād by Aḥmad ibn al-Mahdī al-Ghazzāl (Add MS 9596, f. 1v).

Phase 3 Arabic scientific manuscripts

In the third phase of the Qatar Project the manuscript team continued to catalogue and digitise classic texts, including many volumes dating to the 13^th-15^th centuries CE. These included copies of Rasāʼil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʼ (Epistles of the Brethren of Purity), Jāmiʻ li-quwá [or, li-mufradāt] al-adwīyah wa-al-aghdhīyah, a handbook of medical materials by the Andalusian botanist Ibn al-Bayṭār (d. 1248), Chief Herbalist to the Ayyubid sultan al-Malik al-Kāmil (reg. 1218-38), and Ḥayāt al-ḥayawān, an extensive zoological encyclopaedia by Muḥammad ibn Mūsá al-Damīrī (d. 1405).

Representation of the Kaʻbah and directions of prayer towards it, from a copy of Kharīdat al-ʻajāʼib wa-farīdat al-gharāʼib by Sirāj al-Dīn Abū Ḥafṣ ʻUmar Ibn al-Wardī (IO Islamic 1734, f. 59r).

We also continued to make available manuscripts exemplifying the robust and lasting commentary tradition on the exact and medical sciences in Arabic, such as mathematical teaching handbooks designed to clarify abstract theory for the benefit of students, and a copy of al-Jurjānī’s Sharḥ al-tadhkirat al-naṣīrīyah fī ʻilm al-hayʼah, a commentary on Naṣīr al-Dīn al-Ṭūsī's treatise on Ptolemy's Almagest.

Map of Iraq, showing the courses of the Tigris and Euphrates and their outlets at the Gulf, from Kitāb al-masālik wa-al-mamālik, by Ibrāhīm ibn Muḥammad al-Iṣṭakhrī (Or 5305, f. 23r).

Many treatises included in Phase Three illustrate the richness of enquiry into more technical subjects, such as geography and travelogues, psychology, military science, agriculture, cookery, and music. One notable early manuscript is a fragment of a miscellany produced around 1000 in a Christian monastic context, of which a larger portion is held by the Bibiloteca Ambrosiana in Milan.  

Beginning of a section entitled ‘Knowing the exaltation and fall of the Planets’, from a fragment of an astrological text (Or 8857, f. 2v).

Besides cataloguing, the team produced blog posts and articles that provide further context to some of the manuscripts digitised in Phase Three (and before), and address their textual content, scribal and ownership histories, and later provenance stories. Links to these articles can be found in relevant sections of the attached downloadable list which summarises the output of Phase Three. (Download QDL Phase 3 Listing of Arabic Scientific Manuscripts)

Illustration of a bow and arrow, from al-Wāḍiḥ fī al-ramy wa-al-nushshāb by ʻAbd al-Raḥmān ibn Aḥmad al-Ṭabarī (Or 3134, f. 32r).

Ranging in scale from voluminous tomes and illustrated or illuminated presentation copies, through to intimate, palm-sized notebooks probably never intended for circulation; from manuals of practical instruction to works of theoretical systematisation; and written between ca 1000 CE and the late 19th century, this group of 87 volumes illustrates some of the immense diversity and longevity of scientific scholarship in the Arabic language. The impact of Covid on the world during this period demonstrated ever more clearly the value of digitisation projects accompanied by enhanced cataloguing and translation, which support and encourage global research into the Arabic manuscript field, as so many others.

Page from the contents list of Kitāb al-ishārāt fī ʻilm al-ʻibārāt by Khalīl ibn Shāhīn al-Ẓāhirī (Add MS 9690, f. 6r).

Jenny Norton-Wright, Arabic Scientific Manuscripts Curator

Asian and African Studies blog post summaries of manuscripts digitised by the British Library/Qatar Foundation Partnership during the first two phases

First 40 (Phase 1)

Second 40 (Phase 1)

Next 125 (Phase 2)

Download QDL Phase 3 Listing of Arabic Scientific Manuscripts

Illuminated opening of Kitāb al-ṭabīkh by Muḥammad ibn al-Ḥasan ibn al-Karīm al-Baghdādī (Or 5099, f. 2v).

Diagram of the planetary spheres, from a copy of Rasāʼil Ikhwān al-Ṣafāʼ (Or 8254, f. 196r).