Asian and African studies blog

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 Magi 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

Rustam, the most important hero of Firdawsi’s twelfth century epic the Shāhnāmah has always inspired writers, poets and artists. Nevertheless, many aspects of his life remain disputable. In this blog, I will discuss different views around Rustam's war attire.


Combat of Rustam and Burzū. Isfahan (Iran), 1590-1600 (British Library, IO Islamic 3254, f.182v).
Public domain

In the images of Rustam in the manuscripts of Firdawsi’s Shāhnāmah, Rustam usually wears a helmet made from the head of a tiger or sometimes a leopard, together with brown striped war attire. This interpretation is based on the phrase babr-i bayān, the name given to Rustam’s war clothing in the Shāhnāmah where it is described as fire-proof, water-proof, weapon-proof, dark-coloured and made out of leopard skin.

Some verses in the Shāhnāmah indicate a magical nature for the babr-i bayān. These verses, however, are later additions and contradict other descriptions of the clothing. Elsewhere, Firdawsi describes it as normal attire under which Rustam sometimes wears chain mail, and most of the time two pieces of armour. The babr-i bayān does not even make Rustam invulnerable — as demonstrated by the life-threatening injuries he suffered in his fight with Isfandiyar.

The Sīmurgh heals Rustam after his fight with Isfandiyar. India, 1719 (British Library, Add. Ms 18804, f.71r)
Public domain

The word ‘babr’ is used to refer both to the animal ‘tiger’, and to Rustam’s dress, leading to the general assumption that ‘babr-i bayān’ means clothes made of tiger skin. Hence the decision by most illustrators of the Shahnāmah to depict Rustam in brown striped clothing resembling tiger skin.

Bizhan rescued by Rustam. Samarkand (Uzbekistan), 1600 (British Library IO Islamic 301, f. 142r)
Public domain

In addition to his tiger skin jacket, Rustam usually wears a leopard-headed helmet. However the leopard/panther skin was not used exclusively for depicting Rustam as is shown by the image below of the White Demon who is typically portrayed as leopard-skinned.


Rustam kills the White Demon. Isfahan (Iran), 1630-1640 (British Library, IO Islamic 1256, f.79r)
Public domain

In some traditions, not directly derived from the Shāhnāmah, after Rustam had killed the White Demon, he crafted a helmet from his severed head. This had the effect of making him seem even more terrifying.


Rustam sees the dungeon. Iran, 1604 (British Library, IO Islamic 966, f.64v)
Public domain

Most scholars, like the illustrators, agree that ‘babr’ is an animal but, unlike the illustrators, there is no consensus among them about what animal the word refers to. One group associates ‘babr-i bayān’ with animals such as otters, beavers, and even dragons. In narratives such as the Farāmarznāmah and Gurani epic stories, ‘babr-i bayān’ is a dragon which is killed by Rustam and its skin is used as war clothing. The interpretation linking ‘babr-i bayān’ with beavers or otters relates to the garment of Anahita, the goddess of water in the Avesta. According to the Zoroastrian Avestan hymn Ābān Yasht, Anahita wears a garment made from the shining skin of three hundred ‘bauuri/bawri’ - believed to mean beaver or otter in Avestan. Some scholars, notably Mahmud Omidsalar believe that ‘bauuri/bawri’ evolved to ‘babrag’ in Middle Persian, then to ‘babr’ in New Persian, a second meaning, alongside ‘tiger’, which has since been forgotten. Other scholars, however, prefer the straightforward meaning ‘tiger’ while noting that the tigerskin is not unique to Rustam but is worn by other characters in the Shāhnāmah and throughout world mythology.

As with ‘babr’, different roots and interpretations have been proposed for ‘bayān’. Khaleghi-Motlagh suggests that Bayān is a place in India while Māhyār Navābi proposes that it is the New Persian form of the Old Persian genitive plural ‘bagānām’ and Middle Persian ‘bayān’ meaning ‘of the gods.’ These, and other etymologies suggested at various times can be followed up in the reference sources cited below.

Last words

Considering Firdawsi’s description of the babr-i bayān in the Shāhnāmah and descriptions of Rustam’s clothes in other sources alongside the clothes of heroes, gods, and goddesses in world mythology, it seems clear that it is a tiger’s skin and its colour, as seen in many manuscripts, is red-brown. Elsewhere, the word ‘bawr/būr’ has been used in the Shāhnāmah as an adjective for red-brown horses. Rakhsh, Rustam’s horse, is also described as bawr/būr.


Rustam captures his horse Rakhsh. Isfahan (Iran), 1604 (British Library, IO Islamic 966, f. 54v)
Public domain

It seems that in depicting Rustam's war attire, the artists of the Shāhnāmah were inspired by other narratives including folkloric stories, as well as Firdawsi's descriptions. This can be seen in illustrations in which Rustam wears a helmet made of a leopard or demon's head while he does not have such a helmet according to the text of the Shāhnāmah. Dressed in this war attire Rustam appears even more powerful and frightening.

Alireza Sedighi, Curator, Persian Collections, British Library
With thanks to my colleagues William Monk, Michael Erdman and Ursula Sims-Williams
CCBY

Further reading

Sajjād Āydinlū, “Rūykardī digar bih Babr-i Bayān dar Shāhnāmah”, Nāmah-i Pārsī 4.4 (1378/1998).
Dj. Khaleghi-Motlagh, “Babr-e bayān”, in Encyclopaedia Iranica online, 1988, updated 2011.
Mahmoud Omidsalar. “The beast Babr-e Bayān: Contributions to Iranian folklore and etymology”, Studia Iranica 13.1(1984), 129–42.
Mukhtariyan, Bahar، “Babr-i bayān va jāmah-ʼi  bavrī-yi Ānāhīt”, Justār’hā-yi Adabī 186 (1393/2014).

For over three centuries scholars have been intrigued with the life and poetry of the Mughal princess, Zebunnisa (1639-1702), the eldest daughter of Aurangzeb (r. 1658-1707). True to her name which means ‘Ornament of Women’, she was learned, and an active patron of poets and scholars. She collected books and corresponded with prominent Sufis of the time.[1]  That she would have composed verses in Persian would have been natural since many elite women in Persianate societies did so, but the attribution to her of a substantial body of poetry in the form of a dīvān, comprising about five hundred ghazals and some other poems, actually dates to a few decades after her death and later. In keeping with the spirit of the spurious and suggestive portrait below that was meant to represent Zebunnisa, along with poems attributed to her, over time her biography was spiced up with the inclusion of scurrilous stories of romantic escapades.[2]

A Bejeweled Maiden with a Parakeet (Metropolitan Museum of Art 2011.585)
Public domain

The corpus of poems known to be composed by Zebunnisa is known as the Dīvān-i Makhfī (makhfī means 'the hidden one'). This was thought to be an appropriate penname (takhallus), a common convention in premodern Persian and Persianate poetry, for a Mughal princess. It is true that female poets particularly used pennames such as makhfī, nihānī, and ‘ismat, and often there were multiple poets who wrote under the same name. Among Mughal women, Salima Begum (granddaughter of Humayun by his daughter Gulrukh Begum), Salima Sultan Begum (Akbar’s wife), Nur Jahan (Jahangir’s wife), and Zebunnisa are all said to have chosen the penname Makhfī, but there are only a few lines attributed to the first two. To complicate matters, there were also at least two male poets who also wrote as Makhfī: one was Makhfi Rashti, who flourished in Safavid Iran in the sixteenth century, and the other was Makhfi Khurasani, an Iranian émigré in Mughal India in the seventeenth century.[3]  A close examination of the poems would suggest that some or many of them were by the second of these two male Makhfis and not by Zebunnisa. This, however, is a complicated philological problem that cannot be solved here.

Writing a few decades after she lived, Mughal men of letters of the mid-eighteenth century such as Azad Bilgrami in his biographical dictionary, Yad-i bayz̤ā (IOL Islamic 3966, ff. 112-263), and Lachhmi Narayan Shafiq in his Gul-i ra‘nā (IO Islamic 3692 and 3693 and Or. 2044), only mentioned a few verses by Zebunnisa Begum.


Entry on Zebunnisa, Lachhmi Narayan Shafiq, Gul-i ra‘nā (British Library Or. 2044, ff. 79v-80r)
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Interestingly, it is in early nineteenth century Iran that a Qajar prince, Mahmud Mirza, who in his Nuql-i majlis, first mentions seeing a copy of Zebunnisa's dīvān that someone had brought to Iran from India. By the nineteenth century, anecdotes about her witty exchanges and dalliances with male poets appeared in works such as Muhammad Riza Abu’l-Qasim Tabataba’s miscellany, Naghmah-yi ‘andalīb (British Library Or. 1811), as well as in published anthologies of Persian and Urdu poetry composed by women. By the end of the century, several short biographies of her became popular which provided romanticized narratives of her as a learned but lonely princess who ended her life as a prisoner due to her father’s cruelty. As far as her poetry was concerned, serious scholars such as Shibli Numani and Abdul Muqtadir did not accept the attribution of the Dīvān-i Makhfī to Zebunnisa.

The British Library Or. 311, an eighteenth-century Mughal copy, is the oldest manuscript of the Dīvān-i Makhfī. The text of this manuscript forms the basis of the most recent edition of the poems.[4]

Dīvān-i Makhfī, 18th century (British Library Or. 311, ff. 19v–20)
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This manuscript includes these autobiographical verses from a ghazal:

garche man Layla-asasam dil chu Majnun dar nava-st
sar ba-sahra mizadam likan haya zanjir-i pa-st …
dukhtar-i shahim likan ru ba-faqr avarda’im
zeb o zinat sukhtim o nam-i ma Zebunnisa-st

Although I am Layla-like, my heart is plaintive Majnun-like,
I traverse the desert, but my feet are in chains of modesty.
I am a king’s daughter, but I am beset with poverty,
I discarded all ornaments—my name is Ornament of Women!

These verses do seem to be in Zebunnisa’s authentic voice.

The first printed edition of the Dīvān-i Makhfī appeared as a lithograph in 1268/1852 in Kanpur:


Dīvān-i Makhfī. Kanpur, 1268/1852 (British Library VT138(g))
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The book was popular and was reprinted frequently in Kanpur, Lucknow and Lahore, most famously by the Naval Kishor Press in 1293/1876, in whose edition the author of the book is described as Makhfi Rashti, the Iranian émigré poet, an attribution that disappeared in subsequent editions.

Two small volumes of English translations of Zebunnisa’s poems appeared, astonishingly, in the same year, 1913. One of them was in the series, “Wisdom of the East”, translated by Magan Lal and Jessie Duncan Westbrook.


The Diwan of  Zeb-un-Nissa, translated by Magan Lal and Jessie Duncan Westbrook. New York, 1913
Photograph from the author’s library

In the introduction, Westbrook provides some enigmatic information about the Dīvān-i Makhfī’s transmission history that is not corroborated by  other sources: “In 1724, thirty-five years after her death, what could be found of her scattered writings were collected … [The book] contained four hundred and twenty-one ghazals and several rubais. In 1730 other ghazals were added.” A contemporary reviewer wrote in appreciation of the translations: “The book is particularly valuable at the moment when a great movement is drawing the women of the nations into closer touch and fuller understanding.”[5]  Another reviewer emphasized the mystical quality of the poems: “Miss Westbrook supplies an interesting biographical sketch and some useful remarks on the poetry. She is mistaken, however, in saying that the poems have a special Indian flavor of their own, derived from ‘the Akbar tradition of the unification of religions.’  The doctrine that, notwithstanding the difference of rites and objects of worship, all religions are essentially one occurs repeatedly in Sūfī literature of a much earlier period.”[6]  Given the ambiguity with regard to the object of devotion inherent in the premodern Persian ghazal, it is not surprising that the poems were read in a predetermined mystical way.

The second book, The Tears of Zebunnisa, was published in the same year and had translations by Paul Whalley, a retired Indian civil servant who also translated some quatrains of Omar Khayyam.


The Tears of Zebunnisa, translated by Paul Whalley. London, 1913 (British Library 757.aa.9)
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In a poetic invocation, Whalley addresses the Mughal princess, who “belonged to the mystical school of which the most eminent exponents were Fariduddin Attar and Jalaluddin Rumi”:

INVOCATION
Rise from the far dim East and the mouldered pomp of the Moguls,
Daughter of Aurangzeb, priestess and martyr of Love!
Dawn as a lone bright star in the infinite gloom of the heavens,
Throbbing with love and shedding around thee the music of night.
Sweet as the voice of the bulbul that whispers its woes to the twilight
Come to us out of the ages the echoes of songs thou hast sung.

Like other translators of his time Whalley also preferred a romantic pseudo-mystical reading of Persian poetry. In addition to forty-nine translated poems, he also included five “imitations” and seven “examples of Persian metres”, showing his deep engagement with Persian poetry. His translation of the entire Dīvān-i Makhfī, whose unpublished manuscript is a typescript held by the British Library (IO Islamic 4587), was an immense project that included his fascination with the metres of Persian poetry. Below is his rendering of Zebunnisa’s autobiographical poem discussed above:

Typescript copy of Paul Whalley's translation (British Library IO Islamic 4587, f. 94)
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Whalley’s translations were literal and furnished with extensive notes. He also prepared a detailed concordance of metaphors and allusions to people and places in the Dīvān-i Makhfī. He considered Zebunnisa to be an important poet of the Persian tradition because of  “her sex and rank and social environment” as well as “the intrinsic beauty” of her poems.

Even if Zebunnisa did not compose all the poems in the Dīvān-i Makhfī, her persona as a poet has been crucial to bolstering the existence of a female textual tradition that is ephemeral at best until the twentieth century. In an interesting parallel with her poetry, the site of her final resting place has also been a matter of uncertainty. Although in the mid-nineteenth century Sir Sayyid Ahmad Khan recorded in his Ās̱ār al-sanādīd that a railway line was built over her grave near the Kabuli Gate in Old Delhi, there is also a small memorial tomb in Lahore, tucked away in a bustling commercial part of the city near Chauburji, that has been connected to her name. It seems as if Zebunnisa is fated to remain a mystery in more ways than one.

Zebunnisa's supposed tomb in Lahore.
Photograph by the author

Sunil Sharma, Professor of Persianate and Comparative Literature, Boston University

Notes

[1] Muzaffar Alam, The Mughals and the Sufis (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2021), 301-3.
[2] See my article, “Forbidden Love, Persianate Style: Re-reading Tales of Iranian Poets and Mughal Patrons,” Iranian Studies 42 (2009): 765-79.
[3] Ahmad Gulchin-Ma‘ani, Kārvān-i Hind (Mashhad: Astan-i Quds-i Razavi, 1369/1990), 1263-64.
[4] Divan-i Zebunnisa, ed. Mahindokht Seddiqiyan and Sayyed Abu Taleb Mir ‘Abedini (Tehran: Amir Kabir, 1381/2002).
[5] The Indian Magazine and Review (January 1915), 62.
[6] The Athenaeum (August 9, 1913), 131.

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

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

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

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

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

Points 5 & 6 of Maude’s Proclamation (British Library IOR/L/PS/18/B253, f 122r)
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Flattering the people of Baghdad, Maude called on the need for the “Arab race” to “rise once more to greatness and renown among the peoples of the earth.”

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

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

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

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

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

Its first stanza says:

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

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

The literal meaning is:

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

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

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

The second stanza says:

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

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

The literal meaning is:

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

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

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

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

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

Ula Zeir, Content Specialist/ Arabic Language and Gulf History

Further reading:

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

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

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

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