Asian and African studies blog

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 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

‘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