BARTHOLOMAEUS ZIEGENBALG, THE FIRST INDIAN BIBLE,

VEPERY PRESS, HISTORY OF PRINTING

THE FIRST INDIAN BIBLE

(AN INITIATIVE THAT BACKFIRED)

By Graham Shaw, The Hindu, January 5, 2014

GRAHAM SHAW looks at what the first Indian Bible, printed 300 years ago in January 1714,
specifically achieved, and the chain of events it unwittingly sparked off.

One sharp pull on the hand-press bar and the Indian Bible was born. Three hundred years ago -
on January 3, 1714 - missionaries in the tiny Danish coastal colony of Tharangambadi began
printing an edition of the Four Gospels and Acts of the Apostles in Tamil. This was the first
Biblical translation ever printed in an Indian language — and a landmark in the history of Indian
Christian literature.
Nearly 500 pages long, the Tamil edition took nine months to print, until September 25. It was
hailed by its creators as “a treasure in India, which surpasses all other Indian treasures”. The
translator was Bartholomäus Ziegenbalg, a German Pietist who had arrived at Tharangambadi in
1706 with his fellow countryman, Heinrich Plütschau. They were the first of many Protestant
missionaries to India.
Just two years after beginning to learn Tamil, in October 1708, Ziegenbalg started translating the
New Testament. This was a remarkably ambitious initiative for a young man just 26 years old.
One month later he had already translated as far as the 23rd chapter of St. Matthew’s Gospel.
Then came an unwelcome interruption. The Danish Governor imprisoned Ziegenbalg for four
months without pen, ink and paper, indicative of the opposition the missionaries faced even from
their fellow Europeans. In any case, the work of translation had to be fitted in between other
pastoral duties — instructing catechists, running a school for Tamil children, and undertaking
preaching tours. Little wonder Ziegenbalg only completed his New Testament translation in
March 1711, two and a half years after he had begun.
In the absence of a printing press, Ziegenbalg paid professional Indian scribes to copy out parts
of his translation onto palm-leaves with an iron stylus, imitating traditional Indian manuscripts.
The resulting texts were used as teaching materials in the mission’s Tamil school and also
distributed to the local population at every opportunity. When a Tamil press was set up in 1713,
the missionaries started steadily with some smaller works. These included the pamphlet
Akkiyânam — “Ignorance” — introducing the anti-Hindu polemic to Indian Christian literature.
But does this anniversary really matter in Indian cultural and historical terms? Is it worth
remembering by anyone other than bibliophiles and book historians? Arguably it does in two
senses: for what was specifically achieved, and more significantly for the chain of events it
unwittingly sparked off.
Tamil and Tamil Nadu have always been at the forefront of Indian printing and publishing
history. The first work ever printed in an Indian language in Europe was a Tamil and Portuguese
catechism and prayers published at Lisbon in 1554. The Tamil text was printed using Roman
letters as no Tamil types had yet been cast. Three decades later, in 1577, a Tamil catechism was
issued by Portuguese Jesuits at Goa. This time locally cast Tamil letters were used, making this
the first work ever printed in an Indian script. Another century on, in 1679, Antão de Proença’s
Vocabulario tamulico was published at Ambalakad near Kochi — the first dictionary of any
Indian language to be printed.
Much later, in 1761 Chennai became the first of the British Presidency capitals to acquire the
services of printing, well before Mumbai and Kolkata. This was due to a French press, taken as
booty by the East India Company at the siege of Puducherry. In 1794 Chennai became the
birthplace of Armenian journalism with the appearance of Azdarar — “Herald” — reflecting the
Indian Armenian community’s desire for the restoration of an Armenian homeland. Thus the
achievement in 1714 of printing the first Biblical translation in an Indian language fits into a long
line of innovation, both earlier and later.
To prepare and print Christian literature was not enough. Nothing would be achieved if Bible
translations never left the mission’s book depository. Christian literature would only impact
society if actively promoted to the people for whom it was intended. As John Murdoch, the
‘godfather’ of Protestant missions in 19th-century India, warned: “As much energy must be
devoted to securing a circulation for books in India as is expended in their preparation, or they
will lie as lumber on the shelves”. So perhaps we’ve already just missed the more significant
anniversary.
In the second half of November 1713, one of the missionaries embarked on a preaching tour
down south from Tharangambadi along the coast to Nagapattinam. For the very first time, he
took with him copies of printed Christian tracts. His route deliberately took in well-known Hindu
religious centres in the vicinity where he would preach and distribute tracts. These included
Karaikal and Thirumalairayan Pattinam with its Ayiranlaiamman temple. He also presented tracts
to village headmen and Hindu schools along the way. On previous tours, the missionaries had
only limited numbers of Christian texts copied on palm-leaves to give away. Now, thanks to
printing technology, they could distribute evangelical literature on a large scale.
Tharangambadi had set the precedent. This modest beginning unleashed the enormous industry
of Christian tract publication and distribution that characterised the 19th century. The tour also
displayed two of the strategies routinely adopted by missionaries later. They ‘plugged into’ the
existing network of religious sites and the annual cycle of festivals and pilgrimages to maximise
the audience for their literature. They also targeted the impressionable minds of children as
potential carriers of the Christian message into whole families, signalling the start of missionary
intervention in Indian education beyond their own schools.
Inevitably these aggressive tactics provoked responses from indigenous religions, most notably
Hinduism and Islam. Both felt an urgent need to defend their communities against attacks by
Christian missionaries and more positively to evangelise on their own behalf. The missionaries
now found the very methods they had used turned against them. New educational institutions
were established and a whole variety of social reform initiatives undertaken. In this process of
turning the tide, print played a vital role. Religious presses were founded; magazines and
newspapers published; tract societies set up.
In Chennai, R. Sivasankara Pandiah was just one of those who adopted these tactics. In 1882, he
began teaching young people the fundamentals of Hinduism in his home before raising sufficient
funds to open the Hindu Theological High School in 1889. For Pandiah, print was as crucial as
education in the modernising process. In 1884, he began publishing The Hindu Excelsior
Magazine and, in 1887, set up the Hindu Tract Society that sent its own evangelists all over
South India with anti-Christian pamphlets in their thousands. The first in the Hindu Triumph
Series was named ‘One hundred and fifty contradictions of the Bible’. Its sub-title declared its
defiant purpose: “A Bible hand book for mission school students and inquiring Christians”. This
was Hinduism on the counter-offensive.
From cultural and religious revival came a resurgence of national identity and growth of political
consciousness. Ultimately, through the rapid production of nationalistic posters and collections
of patriotic poems and songs, print proved an essential component of the freedom movement.
The printing press, revered by the missionaries as the great engine of conversion, had become an
effective tool of subversion, not only of Christianity but of the colonial power itself. The Indian
Bible’s birth at Tharangambadi in 1714 had backfired.
Note: The writer was formerly Head of Asia, Pacific and Africa Collections, The British Library,
London. E-mail:shawgraham3@gmail.com

BARTHOLOMAEUS ZIEGENBALG, - THE GERMAN WHO PRINTED THE FIRST

TAMIL TEXT, 1682 - 1719
Indo Asian News Service, 4 July 2006
Tranquebar (Tamil Nadu), July 4 (IANS) This small coastal town is holding a weeklong
commemoration in memory of an 18th century German missionary who not only printed the first
English book in Asia but also wrote the first Tamil dictionary.
Bartholomaeus Ziegenbalg, a 23-year-old protestant missionary, arrived in Tranquebar, where the
Danish set up a colony nearly 300 years ago, on July 9, 1706. The commemorations that began
Monday will include a seminar on the contribution of missionaries to civil society in India as
well as on the post-modern challenges to Christian missionary activity. A postal stamp on
Ziegenbalg, who hailed from the university town of Halle and was sent by King Frederick IV
who felt that there should be protestant priests in the tiny Danish colony, will be released on the
occasion. The New Jerusalem church in Tranquebar, where he was buried, will be rededicated.
Ziegenbalg was a born linguist. He quickly learnt Portuguese as well as 'Malabar' Tamil. It is said
his Tamil teacher was an assistant called Ellapar, who taught him the 'Malabar' alphabets by
drawing them on beach sand. He was keen on the new printing technology rather than preaching
and conversion and began writing books on Tamil language, dictionaries and manuals on
printing.
By 1708, two years after he reached, Ziegenbalg had compiled a bibliography of 161 Tamil
books he had read in a text called the 'Biblithece Malabarke', which described what each book
contained.In 1709, Ziegenbalg asked for a printing press from Denmark. He also sent back to
Halle drawings of Tamil types to be made into blocks. The Halle type for Tamil came to
Tranquebar in 1712. It was, however, too large and Ziegenbalg got local workmen to caste
smaller types, copied expertly from the Halle type, from cheese tins. His first press came in 1713
along with a printing hand, who ran away. So, Ziegenbalg recruited a German soldier named
Johann Heinrich Schloricke, who printed his first book in India in Portuguese.
A printer named Johanne Adler along with two apprentices arrived on the Tamil Nadu coast that
same year to help Ziegenbalg's printing industry. Adler set up a type-making factory near
Tranquebar to supply Ziegenbalg's press. In 1715, he started a paper mill in the village. And then
Adler opened a printing ink making factory nearby. So, Ziegenbalg's press had all that it needed
locally.
In 1716, it printed the first book in Asia in the English language, 'A Guide to the English
Tongue'. Next year, the press produced a Portuguese A B C book. The press existed for the next
100 years. There is no record of anything printed in this press after that. From the Tranquebar
press, the art of printing spread to Thanjavur, Tirunelveli and then Madras (Chennai). Also to the
Danish settlement of Srirampore on the Bengal coast. It is in the Srirampore Danish mission that
William Carey, often credited with the first printing work in India, and others took forward
Ziegenbalg's legacy.
Ziegenbalg had worked on several other Tamil-German scholarly texts. These were only printed
250 years later in Halle and in Madras. Among them were texts like the 'Nidiwunpa' and 'Ulaga
Nidi'. Ziegenbalg died in 1719.
Opening the commemoration ceremonies, historian S. Muthiah recalled that Ziegenbalg wrote
the first Tamil dictionary and translated Tamil grammar prose into Latin. He established the first
Tamil-German scholarly link. He first translated the New Testament into Tamil 'Pudu Etpadu'.
The function is being organised by the Gurukul Lutheran Theological College and Research
Institute here and the National Council of Churches in India.

Note: S Muthiah writes:

In 1556, a Portuguese ship put into Goa for victualling. Aboard were 14 Jesuits bound for
Abyssinia (today’s Ethiopia) and a printing press. One of them, Joao de Bustamente, a Spaniard,
was a printer. He was accompanied by an assistant of Indian origin. The clergy in Goa felt their
need for a printing press was greater than Abyssinia’s and, so, requested the Governor-General to
make the press available to them. The press was taken over and sent with Bustamente to the
College of St. Paul, a seminary that still exists.
The “new” technology spread, but the Portuguese guarded their presses jealously, and by 1674,
printing had almost died out in India.
It wasn’t until a Dutch missionary, Bartholomew Ziegenbalg, came to Tarangambadi in 1706 to
found the first formal Protestant mission in Asia that book printing in India started up again. In
1712-13, a printing press arrived, and the first publications from the Tranquebar press rolled out.
Ziegenbalg, who combined missionary zeal with shrewdness, insisted that they had to print in
Tamil as well, and the first Tamil publication from the press came out towards the end of 1713,
followed by a printing of the New Testament in 1715.
The reason why printing and publishing spread to the rest of India after 1715, but not in the time
of the Portuguese was simple: Ziegenbalg and his fellow missionaries believed that they needed
to share the “new” technologies in order to spread the good word. In the process, they ensured
that the printed word would spread to other parts of India–Bombay, Bengal, Madras. The Indian
publishing industry may have begun–some would say fittingly–with an act of near-piracy, but it
was in Tranquebar, with the sharing of technology, that it set down roots. And that’s why we
chose Tranquebar as the name for our literary imprint. Because if you’re going to publish
anything–words, books, ideas–of lasting worth, it’s important to spread the word.

PLÜTSCHAU, HEINRICH (1677-1752)

Pioneer missionary of the Tranquebar mission
Co-worker with the pietist Lutheran mission pioneer Bartolomäus Ziegenbalg, Plütschau was
overshadowed by the latter to the extent that his year of death has wrongly been stated as 1746.
A native of Wesenberg, Mecklenburg, he was educated at Berlin and Halle, was selected for the
Tranquebar mission, and arrived there in 1706. Six years older than Ziegenbalg and not nearly so
brilliant a student, he was “cut out to be an admirable follower but not a leader” (Stephen Neill).
According to the original plan, Ziegenbalg was to concentrate on the Portuguese language, the
lingua franca on the Coromandel coast, and Plütschau on Tamil. But for unkown reasons the
arrangement was soon reversed, probably to the advantage of the mission, although Plütschau
later started a Tamil language study group at Halle. In any case, Plütschau assumed his share of
responsibility for the growing Tamil church until he was sent home in 1711 to defend the mission
against critics in Europe, including some in the royal court at Copenhagen. In 1714 he was called
to a pastorate at Beidenfleth, Holstein, Germany. This was done with the concurrence of August
H. Francke, who appreciated Plütschau’s faith and loyalty but did not think him qualified to
become director of a proposed mission seminary at Copenhagen.
Hans-Werner Genischen, “Plütschau, Heinrich,” in Biographical Dictionary of Christian
Missions, ed. Gerald H. Anderson (New York: Macmillan Reference USA, 1998), 540-41.
Note: This article is reprinted from Biographical Dictionary of Christian Missions, Macmillan
Reference USA, copyright © 1998 Gerald H. Anderson, by permission of Macmillan Reference
USA, New York, NY. All rights reserved.

THE LEGACY THAT ZIEGENBALG LEFT

By S. Muthiah, The Hindu, July 2, 2006
PRINTING came to India serendipitously. In 1556, a Portuguese ship put into Goa for
victualling. Aboard were 14 Jesuits bound for Abyssinia (today's Ethiopia) and a printing press.
One of them, Joao de Bustamente, a Spaniard, was a printer. He was accompanied by an assistant
of Indian origin.
The clergy in Goa felt their need for a printing press was greater than Abyssinia's and, so,
requested the Governor-General to make the press available to them. The press was taken over
and sent with Bustamente to the College of St. Paul, a seminary that still exists.
Early start:
From Goa on the Konkan Coast to the Malabar Coast, then round the Cape of Comorin to the
Fisheries Coast, printing in Latin, Portuguese, Tamil or Malabar and, to a lesser extent, Konkani,
spread over the next hundred years.
Significantly, all the presses belonged to the Church or the Portuguese. None was set up by
Indians and printing did not spread to the rest of the country. Then, as suddenly as it had started,
printing died out in India. Tamil printing seems to have stopped after 1612. Records show that
the last books in Latin and Portuguese were printed in Goa in 1674.
Printing in India revived only in the early 18th Century. The beginnings were
again serendipitous. In 1620, The Danish East India Company obtained from the Rajah of
Tanjore the grant of a 25-square mile coastal territory called Tarangambadi, which the Danes
called Tranquebar.
It was here that modern printing was revived - to spread throughout India. It was here too that the
foundations were laid for the Protestant missionaries' contribution to education in India.
The Danish merchants in Tranquebar wanted no Danish priests in their territories. However,
King Frederick IV's chaplain insisted there should be a Lutheran presence in Danish settlements.
As a compromise, King Frederick invited the Pietists from Halle in eastern Germany to send out
priests to Tranquebar. The 23-year-old Bartholomaeus Ziegenbalg and the rather older Heinrich
Plutschau answered the call. When they arrived in India on July 9,1706 they founded the first
formal Protestant mission in Asia.
Learning local languages:
Ziegenbalg realised that if he was to interact with the local population he would have to learn not
only the lingua franca of the coast, Portuguese, but also the local tongue, Tamil that the
Portuguese called "Malabar".
He must have been a born linguist, for within a couple of months he learnt sufficient Portuguese
to be able to use it to learn Tamil with the help of an untrained tutor, Ellappar, who taught him in
the traditional way by tracing the letters of the Tamil alphabet on a bed of sand. Within three
months, Ziegenbalg was writing home.
Ziegenbalg converted only a few Malabarians and spent far more time studying Tamil. He set up
the first printing press in India after the Portuguese effort ground to a halt, established a
publishing programme and got the missionaries who joined him to set up schools in the areas
they fanned out to, particularly Madras, Tanjore (Thanjavur) and Tinnevely (Tirunelveli).
Ziegenbalg was convinced that the only way the mission could succeed was if books were
prepared in "the Malabar language". He went on to write in 1709, "I choose such books as I
should wish to imitate both in speaking and writing ... Their tongue ...(now) is as easy to me as
my mother tongue, and in the last two years I have been enabled to write several books in
Tamil..."
Literary work:
With this learning, Ziegenbalg began translating the New Testament in 1708. He had also begun
to prepare a Malabar dictionary. All this scholarship, and the fact that he had completed
translating the New Testament in 1711 with the help of another arrival from Halle, Johann
Grundler, made a printing press absolutely necessary if what had been translated was not to be
wasted effort.
As early as 1709 Ziegenbalg requested a printing press from Denmark. The Danes forwarded the
appeal to London to the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. The SPCK, not allowed a
foothold in India by John Company's merchants, was only too eager to help and in 1712 shipped
out to the Tranquebar mission a printing press with type, paper, ink, and a printer.
When the SPCK consignment arrived in Madras, the printer was missing. Fortunately, a German
soldier in the Danish Company's service knew something about printing and was recruited.
Johann Heinrich Schloricke, 30 years old at the time, printed in Portuguese the Tranquebar
mission press's first publications in 1712/13. With this, printing in India got its second wind and
the foundations for today's thriving Indian Printing Industry were laid.
Ziegenbalg, however, was convinced that the Mission's work could prove successful only if the
press produced books and other literature in Tamil. He therefore sent back drawings of the Tamil
alphabet to Halle with the request to create Tamil typefaces there. The Tamil type arrived in
Madras on June 29,1713, together with three Germans who were to galvanise the press and
printing when they got to Tranquebar by the end of August.
In September/October 1713, Johann Gottlieb Adler, a type founder, printer and mechanic, his
14-year-old brother Dietrich Gottlieb Adler and the 27-year-old Johannes Berlin, a bookbinder
and printing assistant used the Halle Tamil type, to print the first 'Malabarick' publication since
the Portuguese had put a stop to printing in Tamil c.1612.
Tamil typefaces:
The Halle type, however, was too large and gobbled up the Mission's limited paper stock. While
more paper was sought from London, Johann Adler began cutting new and smaller Tamil type in
June/July 1714 and cast it using, according to legend, the lead covers of tins of Cheshire cheese
that were regularly sent out by the SPCK. Using this type, Johann Adler completed the printing
of the New Testament in Tamil (Pudu Etpadu) in July 1715.
Adler's type foundry was set up in Porayur, on the outskirts of Tranquebar. In 1715, he started a
paper mill in the same village, the Government meeting half the costs and the Mission the rest.
He then opened a printing ink manufacturing unit nearby. All three were the first printing
material "factories" in India.
The Tranquebar mission press was now virtually self-sufficient and this was to help it to remain
active for another 100 years. After 1817 there is no report of the press functioning.
Not only did printing continue in Tranquebar, but it also spread to Madras, Tanjore and another
Danish settlement, Serampore, near Calcutta where it flowered.
The Danish Halle Mission in Serampore near Calcutta was where William Carey, Joshua
Marshman, William Ward and William Grant, Baptist missionaries, exiled from Calcutta for
indulging in missionary activities, found refuge. They arrived in Serampore on January 10, 1800,
bringing a printing press with them. In the next 35 years, the Serampore Press cut type in 40
different languages, including 33 Indian languages.
This is why most Indian printers tend to think of Carey as the father of modern Indian printing.
They have forgotten the foundations of the industry laid by Bartholomaeus Ziegenbalg and
Johann Adler.
The German-Tamil link:
Ziegenbalg was only 36 when he died in 1719. His last 13 years were spent laying the
foundations for German scholarship in Tamil that continues to this day.
Apart from the numerous Tamil translations of Christian publications he made, he wrote several
books and booklets that could be described as being Indological in nature.
He also had the press printing educational material of a more general nature.
As early as 1708 he had compiled his Bibliothece Malabarke, listing the 161 Tamil books he had
read and describing their content.
In 1713, in Biblia Tamulica he expanded this bibliography. Also in 1713 the press produced what
was perhaps the first Almanac to be printed in India. Then, in 1716, there appeared what was
probably the first book printed in Asia in English, A Guide to the English Tongue, by Thomas
Dyche.
The next year the press printed an A.B.C. (in Portuguese) for schools in the English territories.
What did not get printed in Tranquebar were Ziegenbalg's Indological writings. In fact, his works
like Nidiwunpa (Malabari moral philosophy), Kondei Wenden (Malabari morals) Ulaga Nidi
(Malabari civil justice), and his books on Hindusim and Islam were printed only 150-250 years
later in Europe and Madras.

A PRINTERS' REMEMBRANCE
The Hindu, March 5, 2012
Yesterday, the printers of Madras began a year-long celebration of the Diamond Jubilee of the
country's first printers' association, the Madras Printers' and Lithographers' Association, which
was inaugurated on July 28, 1952. Appropriately, the first President of the organisation was the
Manager of the oldest surviving printing press in the country, V.M. Phillip of what was then the
Diocesan Press and is now the CLS Press but which had its roots in a printing press started in
1761 as the Vepery Press by the Rev. Johann P. Fabricius and which became the SPCK Press in
1798.
If these founders are little remembered by the industry today, even less remembered is that this
year should more importantly be celebrated as the 300th anniversary of the birth, or, rather, the
re-birth, of printing in India.
True, printing had its beginnings in Goa in 1556, when the Portuguese Jesuits established a
printing press there and that by 1577 the first language types — Malabar as it was called, but in
fact Tamil — had been cast and used for printing. But by the late 17th Century, printing in India
died out completely and all printed material was imported from abroad.
It was Bartholomaeus Ziegenbalg and Heinrich Plutschau, the first Protestants to establish a
mission in India, who brought about that revival. The two Germans who came out to Danish
Tranquebar to establish the Tranquebar Mission in 1706 had been strongly influenced by the Rev.
August Hermann Francke, one of the founders of the Pietist movement which valued highly
knowledge and scholarly enlightenment. And dissemination of knowledge collected required a
printing press. Which duly arrived in Madras in June 1712 together with some English type and a
quantity of paper and was transported to Tranquebar. Using a soldier who had once worked in a
printing press in England, Ziegenbalg got printed in Portuguese a few religious pamphlets before
the end of the year. Printing had got a new lease of life in India — and has flourished in the
country ever since.
If Tranquebar gave new life to printing in India 300 years ago, its spread was due to another
Danish colony, Serampore in Bengal. Ziegenbalg's only son, Gottlieb Ernst Ziegenbalg, was
Governor of Serampore when William Carey and two other Baptist missionaries expelled from
Calcutta sought refuge there. It was from there that Carey and his colleagues spread the gospel of
printing throughout India. But that the seed for Carey's work was sown in Tranquebar by
Ziegenbalg 300 years ago this year should not be forgotten.

THE BOOTY FROM PONDICHERRY (VEPERY PRESS)

By S. Muthiah, The Hindu, Apr 27, 2009
General Eyre Coote who ransacked Pondicherry in 1861 (Miscellany, April 6) brought back to
Madras a whole lot of booty. One small part of that loot was to contribute significantly in the
years that followed. It was “a hand-press, cases of type and other equipment”. This was the first
printing equipment to reach Madras.
As was narrated in this column, printing in India started in Goa and the Malabar Coast, faded out
and was revived in Danish Tranquebar (Tarangambadi) by the German Pietists from Halle in the
early 1700s. One of the later Tranquebar missionaries walked all the way to Madras, and found
himself being made the representative for the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge
(SPCK), London, which was unable to send out its own missionaries due to the East India
Company not permitting British missionaries to come to India.
The missionary from Tranquebar who settled in Vepery was Johann P. Fabricius, a scholar, and
soon to become fluent in Tamil and Telugu. He requested the Government of Madras for the
equipment that had been found in Governor-General de Lally’s mansion where it had been lying
unused from 1758. Fabricius offered to run the press in Vepery, giving priority to Government
work, and only then taking up the Mission’s. The Government agreed, and so was born the East
India Company’s Press aka the Vepery Press. In time, the two names were to develop as separate
units, the former becoming today’s Government Press, the latter, the SPCK Press, then the
Diocesan Press and now the CLS Press.
Fabricius, while running schools, translating Christian literature and doing a modicum of
missionary work also found time to be a successful manager of the press. In 1766, he expanded
the press by acquiring another printing machine from Tranquebar, imported Tamil type castings
from Halle, and got a Tamil printer named Thomas from Tranquebar. It was this wing of the
Vepery Press that enabled its growth over the years, making it one of the biggest printing presses
in South India till the 1960s.
The first publication in Tamil from the Vepery Press was a catechism that Fabricius had
translated. It was printed in 1766. Six years later there came out the first major work of the press,
Fabricius’s revised version of the Malabar (Tamil) New Testament. In 1799, the Vepery Press
issued its greatest publication, the Malabar-English Dictionary. Fabricius and his colleague
Breithaupt then brought out the second part of this monumental work of theirs in 1786. Today,
what survives of the press is the oldest surviving printing press in India. Obviously some good
came out of the Carnatic Wars.

AN AMERICAN PRESS
By S. Muthiah, The Hindu, July 28, 2008
Some American students, recently discovering Madras, learnt that an American printing press
was established in Madras as much as 170 years ago. But the American Mission Press set up in
Popham’s Broadway in 1838 was not the first American printing press in India.
When two Americans informally established an `American Mission’ in Bombay in 1813, they
followed it up five years later by founding a printing press and printing much material in
Marathi. S.B. Fairbanks, who was in charge of this press at the time, introduced lithographic
printing in India here in 1854.
The American Mission Press (AMP) in Madras was run by P.R. Hunt who designed and
developed the finest Tamil founts cut up to that time; in fact, the founts he designed survived
well into the modern day, made popular by the Linotype Company.
The Bible in Tamil was the first book published by the AMP. It came out in 1840. The second
editions of G.U. Pope’s Tamil Grammar and Tamil Handbook came out from the Press in 1858
and were followed the next year by C.T.E. Rhenius’s Tamil Grammar. But the most important
publication of the AMP was released three years later.
The Rev. Dr. Myron Winslow’s Tamil-English Dictionary, work on which Winslow started with
Arumuga Navalar at the older American Mission in Jaffna and which they both continued in
Madras, was released in 1862. It provided the English meanings for nearly 67,500 Tamil words.
The Winslow Dictionary is as much of a classic for the quality of its lexicography as it is for its
printing, particularly the typesetting, considering it was all composed by hand.
The American Mission had bought this Press from the Church Mission in Madras in 1838. By
1866, the American missionaries had begun moving out to the districts and the Press was offered
for sale. It was bought by the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge (SPCK) for Rs.40,000
that year and, together with the SPCK’s own printing press that Fabricius had started in 1761 (as
the Vepery Press), developed as the Diocesan Press, which survives today as the CLS Press.

THE GERMAN LEXICOGRAPHERS

The Hindu, September 5, 2011
As expected, several of the events during Madras Week provided grist for this column's mills.
And one which provided a wealth of material was the exhibition of the old Tamil books it holds
by the Roja Muthiah Research Library. The earliest books on display were the first Tirukkural
and Naladiyar texts published. This was by Gnanaprakasam in 1812 and printed at the
Masadinacaritai Printers in Madras. Karunamrutha Sagaram , a musical treatise by Abraham
Pandithar in 1916, was the oldest musical work exhibited. But what grabbed my attention was an
original first edition copy of Rev. Johann Peter Rottler's Dictionary of the Tamil and English
Languages , published by, and printed at, the Vepery Mission Press (today's C.L.S. Press). This
dictionary was the basis of the University of Madras's Tamil Lexicon referred to in Miscellany
on March 28, 2011.
Rottler's dictionary, however, had its roots in the efforts of several others. Compiling Tamil
words and phrases and their meanings started with the founder of the Tranquebar Danish
Mission, Bartholomaeus Ziegenbalg. Between 1706 and 1708 he compiled a prose lexicon of
20,000 Tamil words after reading a hundred scholarly Tamil books. The collection grew to
40,000 words and phrases by 1712. Simultaneously, he compiled a Tamil poetical lexicon that
included 17,000 words. Ziegenbalg's dictionary provided every Tamil word with a transliteration
in Latin letters to give readers an idea about how it should be pronounced and its meaning in
high German.
Ziegenbalg's lexicographical work was added to by other German missionaries such as Schultze,
Walther, Sartorius, Geister and Obuch. From these efforts was distilled, by the missionary who
was to become known as ‘The Master of Tamil', Johann Philip Fabricius, A Malabar (Tamil) and
English Dictionary with 9,000 well-defined words. The dictionary, printed in 1779 (the first
Tamil-English dictionary to be printed), is considered the roots of the Tamil Lexicon of today.
Rottler expanded Fabricius's work to 36,000 words and this was published in two parts in 1834,
the first part being what was displayed at RMRL. Winslow (Miscellany, March 28) took the
word count to 67,000.
Dr. Rottler arrived in Tranquebar on August 5, 1776 and spent 27 years there before moving to
Madras in 1803 to take charge of the SPCK, or Vepery Mission. He was to remain there till he
passed away in January 1836. He had spent 60 years in India. The first two parts of his
dictionary, 410 pages in all, on which he started work in 1830, were published two years before
his death. The third part was revised by Rev. James Taylor and brought out in 1839 and the
fourth part, on which both Taylor and T. Venkatachala Moodelly worked, in 1841.
Botany too claimed Dr. Rottler's attention and this was a field in which he became internationally
known. He sent specimens of South Indian plants to several Western and Central European
botanical gardens and universities and many of them began their tropical Asian collections with
these flora. Lord North, the first British Governor of Ceylon (1795), invited him to accompany
him to the island where he collected numerous plants and sent them to the herbarium of King's
College, London. These were later (1873) transferred to the Kew Gardens. Rottler was the
inspiration for the great British botanists of South India who blazed an indelible trail.

BARTHOLOMAEUS ZIEGENBALG, AN APOSTLE IN INDIA

(Courtesy: Friends Focus – Sept.2003)
Bartholomaeus Ziegenbalg, the great missionary of South India, was born in Saxony in 1682. He
studied at the University of Balle, then the center for the Pietistic movement in the Lutheran
Church. He responded to an appeal from the King of Denmark for missionaries, and in
September 1706, he and Heinrich Plueshau arrived in Tranguebar (anglicized form of
Tharangambadi in Tamil language), a very small Danish colony on the east coast, close to
Nagapattinam in Tamil Nadu, on the southeast coast of India, as the first Protestant missionaries
in that country.
Ziegenbalg began his life in Tranquebar first with the help of interpreters and translators.
However, he was determined to learn the local language Tamil, and mastered it in such a way
that he would be able to use it for the translation of the Bible and to communicate with the
natives in their own language. He and Heinrich persevered in their efforts.
They began preaching and baptized their first converts about ten months later. Their work was
opposed both by militant Hindus and by the local Danish authorities. In 1707/08, Ziegenbalg
spent four months in prison on a charge that by converting the natives, he was encouraging
rebellion.
More than the opposition, he had to cope with the climatic conditions in India. Ziegenbalg wrote:
“My skin was like a red cloth. The heat here is very great, especially during April, May and June,
in which season the wind blows from the inland so strongly that it seems as if the heat comes
straight out of the oven”.
Ziegenbalg began to learn write Tamil letters immediately after his arrival. The missionaries
invited the local Tamil Pandit (teacher) to come and stay with them and to run his school from
their house. Ziegenbalg would sit with the young children in this school on the floor and practice
writing the letters in the sand, a very traditional practice that was in vogue even in early 1650s in
Tamil Nadu villages.
Following was an account of his hard work to master the Malabar (Tamil) language:
From 7 to 8 a.m, he would repeat the vocabularies and phrases that he had previously learnt and
written down. From 8 a.m. to 12 noon, he would read only Malabar language books which he
had not previously read. He did this in the presence of an old poet and a writer who immediately
wrote down all new words and expressions. The poet had to explain the text and in the case of
linguistically complicated poetry, the poet put what had been read into colloquial language. At
first, Ziegenbalg had also used the translator, namely, Aleppa, whom he later gave to one of his
colleagues. Even while eating, he had someone read to him. From 3 to 5 p.m., he would read
some more Tamil books. In the evening from 7 to 8 p.m, someone would read to him from Tamil
literature in order to avoid strain on his eyes. He preferred authors whose style he could imitate
in his own speaking and writing.
He soon set up a printing press, and published studies of the Tamil language and of Indian
religion and culture. His translation of the New Testament into Tamil in 1715, and the church
building that he and his associates constructed in 1718, are still in use today.
He married in 1716, and about that time, a new and friendly governor arrived, and he was able to
establish a seminary for the training of native clergy. He died on 23 February 1719 at the age of
37 when he left a Tamil translation of the New Testament and of Genesis through Ruth, many
brief writings in Tamil, two church buildings, the seminary, and 250 baptized Christians.
Ziegenbalg accomplished great things for God in the prime of his youth and that too, in an alien
country, despite the inclement climatic conditions and the hostile attitude of the local people to
the preaching of the gospel.

Learning an Indian language as a foreign language in 1700s:

By Dr. M. S. Thirumalai, Ph.D.
Records of the methods adopted:
Once upon a time, there was no need to learn another language. Was it really true? Actually there
was no time in the history of India that people did not have the necessity to learn another
language. It is true that not all Indians learned or wanted to learn a language other than their own.
Yet, there were always people who learned a language other than their own, and they also
succeeded in using their second language for scholastic and practical purposes. However, records
of the methods adopted to learn other languages were not maintained. Fortunately for us some of
the early Christian missionaries who learned Indian languages did keep some record of the
methods they adopted in learning the Indian languages. In this short paper I wish to record the
statements made by the first ever Protestant missionary, Bartholomaeus Ziegenbalg, as to how he
learned an Indian language.
Ziegenbalg in India in early 1700s:
Bartholomaeus Ziegenbalg, a Lutheran missionary from Germany, came to India on July 9, 1706,
when he was only 24 years old. He and Pluetschau were commissioned as missionaries by the
King of Denmark. Ziegenbalg made Tranquebar (anglicized form of Tharangambadi in Tamil), a
very small Danish colony on the east coast close to Nagapattinam in Tamilnadu, his home in
India.
Hardships of living in India: Indian summers:
Ziegenbalg began his life in Tranquebar first with the help of interpreters and translators.
However, he was determined to learn the local language Tamil, and master it in such a way that
he would be able to use it for the translation of the Bible and to communicate with the natives in
their own language. This lofty aim, however, ran into several difficulties. One of the major
difficulties was the climatic condition. Ziegenbalg wrote: "My skin was like a red cloth. The heat
here is very great, especially in April, May, and June, at which season the wind blows from
inland, so strongly that it seems as if the heat comes straight out of the oven" (Lehmann
1956:19).
Sitting on the floor with children in a school:
Ziegenbalg began to learn to write Tamil letters immediately after his arrival. The missionaries
invited the local Tamil Pandit to come and stay with them and run his school from their house.
Ziegenbalg would sit with the young children in this school on the floor and practice writing the
letters in the sand, a very traditional practice that was in vogue even in early 1950s in Tamilnadu
villages. One missionary who came to Tranquebar later wrote that these two early missionaries
"settled down with all earnestness, with childish composure to the languages" (Lehmann
1956:23).
Focus on vocabulary and memorization, and use of translations:
Ziegenbalg wrote in a letter: "We did indeed have a Malabar (Tamil) teacher of our own.
However we did not know where we should get the vocabulary and an understanding of the
construction of this language, since the school master could show us reading and writing but
knew no Portuguese and could not explain anything to us. (Portuguese was the language of
communication, not English, at that time among the Europeans in India. - Thirumalai) After this
we got acquainted with a Malabaree (Tamil) who . . . besides his own language spoke
Portuguese, Danish, Dutch, and German well. Him we employed at fixed pay as our translator,
and through him daily acquired many Malabar (Tamil) words, up to several thousands, and
memorized them well (emphasis added - Thirumalai). After that, we busied ourselves to get the
declensions and conjugations, and began to read books in this language. God let everything
progress well. Then the Commandant recommended to us a grammar in the Portuguese language,
written by a missionary of the King of France. We obtained a number of books in the Malabar
(Tamil) language, prepared by Catholics, which almost led us into dangerous heresies but not
into an understanding of the language or a Christian style of writing. We had no means of
knowing with what words and expressions we should explain spiritual matters in order not to
give them a heathen flavour. The best book, so necessary and so useful, was their Gospel-book.
This we examined first of all and took all the vocabulary and expressions to make ourselves well
acquainted and use them in our daily conversations. After that we worked through other books so
that I , B.Z., in eight months had come so far that with God's grace I was able to read, write, and
speak in this very difficult language and even understand the conversation of others" (Lehmann
1956: 24).
Long schedules:
Ziegenbalg reported that during the first three years of his stay in India, he hardly read any books
in German or Latin. He gave the following schedule of his language lessons: "from 7-8 a.m. he
would repeat the vocabularies and phrases which he had previously learnt and written down;
from 8-12 he read only Malabar (Tamil) books which he had not previously read. This he did in
the presence of an old poet (Tamil Pandit) and a writer who immediately wrote down all new
words and expressions. The poet had to explain the text and in the case of linguistically
complicated poetry put what had been read into colloquial language. At first he had also used the
translator Aleppa, whom he later gave up to one of his colleagues. Even while eating he had
someone read to him and from 3-5 he read some more Tamil books. In the evening from 7-8 he
had someone read to him from Tamil literature in order to save his own eyes. He preferred
authors whose style he could imitate in his own speaking and writing. 'Thus it has happened that
I sometimes the read the same author a hundred times, so that there was no world or expression
in him which I did not know or imitate. Such practice in this language has given a sureness and
certainty'" (Lehmann 1956:24).
Assessment of proficiency:
Zieganbalg's competence and performance in Tamil was criticized later on by his rival Catholic
priests, in particular by the Italian Jesuit Beschi, who is considered to be a great scholar-poet in
Tamil. However, native-like performance in a foreign language does take time for the adult
learners, even when they are best motivated to learn their target language. What is noteworthy is
the single-minded devotion of Ziegenbalg to learn a foreign language which is diglossic.
Bartholomaeus Ziegenbalg died in 1719 in Tranquebar, at the age of 37 years, leaving behind his
young wife with two small sons. After ten weeks, the youngest boy died. His wife gave birth to a
third son five months after Ziegenbalg's death. This child also died in Tranquebar.

Reference:
E. Arno Lehmann. It Began At Tranquebar. Translated by M. J. Lutz. The Christian Literature
Society, Chennai, 1956.

ZIEGENBALG, BARTHOLOMÄUS (1682-1719)

Pioneer German missionary in South India
Ziegenbalg, the prototype of German pietist Lutheran missionaries, was born in Pulsnitz, Saxony.
He had a conversion experience while in high-school, after the early loss of his parents. Repeated
illness and inner conflicts interrupted his studies at Berlin and Halle. But under the guidance of
the pietist leaders Joachim Lange and A. H. Francke, he underwent a demanding program of
studies, including Greek and Hebrew, which was to stand him in good stead in India. When King
Frederick IV of Denmark found little Danish interest in taking up mission work among
non-Christians subjects overseas, he instructed his German court chaplain Franz J. Lütkens to
find suitable candidates in Germany. After consultation with Lange, Lütkens was soon able to
present Ziegenbalg and his fellow student Heinrich Plütschau, who were ordained at Copenhagen
and arrived at the Danish trade establishment of Tranquebar, South India, on July 9, 1706. The
mission depended in its formative years primarily on Ziegenbalg’s creative vision and ability.
There was no end of difficulties, and Ziegenbalg’s own impetuosity was at least partly
responsible. Yet often he seemed to grow under pressure, not least on account of his practice of
dealing with unforeseen challenges by intensive prayer and by accounting for his actions in
incredibly extensive reporting and correspondence.
Ziegenbalg There was, first, the challenge of the local languages — Portuguese and, more
urgently, Tamil. With the assistance of indigenous helpers, Ziegenbalg quickly acquired
command of both the spoken and the written forms of Tamil, prepared dictionaries, published a
grammar (1716), and collected Tamil manuscripts. He thus became a pioneer in the Western
study of South Indian culture, society, and religion, although three of his translations and his two
major works on Hindu religion remained unpublished for a long time as they did not meet with
approval at Halle. His translation of the Bible, on the other hand — the whole New Testament,
for the first time in any Indian language, and the Old Testament up to the book of Ruth, was
printed at Tranquebar on Tamil press sent out from Halle. Tamil hymnbooks, catechisms, and
other Christian literature followed. Schools for boys and girls were established, and a seminary
for the preparation of Indian assistants was opened. All this underscored Ziegenbalg’s conviction
that the indigenous church would be Lutheran in faith and worship but Indian in character.
However, a dispute over policy with the Danish mission secretary, Christian Wendt, undoubtedly
contributed to his sudden death in 1719, before he had completed his thirty-sixth year. Much
later it would be recognized that with him “a new epoch in the history of the Christian mission
had begun” (Stephen Neill).
Hans-Werner Gensichen, “Bartholomäus Ziegenbalg,” in Biographical Dictionary of Christian
Missions, ed. Gerald H. Anderson (New York: Macmillan Reference USA, 1998), 761.
Note: This article is reprinted from Biographical Dictionary of Christian Missions, Macmillan
Reference USA, copyright © 1998 Gerald H. Anderson, by permission of Macmillan Reference
USA, New York, NY. All rights reserved.
Bibliography:
PRIMARY:
Ziegenbalg, Bartholomäus. Genealogy of the South Indian Deities: An English translation of
Bartholomäus Ziegenbalg’s original German manuscript with a textual analysis and glossary.
Translated and edited by Daniel Jeyaraj. London: Routledge Curzon, 2005.
SECONDARY:
Jeyaraj, Daniel. Der Beitrag der Dänisch-Halleschen Mission zum Werden einer
indisch-ein-heimischen Kirche, 1706-1730. Erlangen: Verlag der Ev.-Luth. Mission, 1996.
Lehman, E. A. It Began at Tranquebar: the Story of the Tranquebar Mission and the Beginnings
of Protestant Christianity in India. Published to celebrate the 250th anniversary of the landing of
the first Protestant missionaries at Tranquebar in 1706. Translated from the German by M. J.
Lutz. Madras, India: Christian Literature Society on behalf of the Federation of Evangelical
Lutheran Churches in India, 1956.

PRINTING IN TAMIL
(Ancient Printing Presses)

Protestant missionaries also contributed to education in India. King Frederick IV’s chaplain
insisted there should be a Lutheran presence in the Danish settlements. As a compromise, King
Frederick invited the Pietists from Halle in eastern Germany to send out priests to Tranquebar
now in Tamilnadu, near Chidambaram. The 23-year-old Bartholomaeus Ziegenbalg and the
rather older Heinrich Plutschau answered the call. When they arrived in India on July 9th, 1706
they founded the first formal Protestant mission in Asia. Ziegenbalg realized that if he was to
interact with the local population he would have to learn not only the Lingua Franca of the coast,
Portuguese, but also the local tongue, Tamil, that the Portuguese called “Malabar”. He must
have been a born linguist, for within a couple of months he learnt sufficient Portuguese to be able
to use it to learn Tamil with the help of an untrained tutor, Ellappar, who taught him in the
traditional way by tracing the letters of the Tamil alphabet on a bed of sand. Within three months,
Ziegenbalg was writing in Tamil. Ziegenbalg converted only a few Malabarians and spent far
more time studying Tamil. He set up the first printing press in India after the Portugueses’ effort
ground to a halt. He established a publishing programme.
As early as 1709 Ziegenbalg requested a printing press from Denmark. The Danes forwarded the
appeal to London to the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. The SPCK, not allowed a
foothold in India by John company’s merchants, was only too eager to help and in 1712 shipped
out to the Tranquebar mission a printing press with type, paper, ink and a printer. When the
SPCK consignment arrived in Madras, the printer was missing. Fortunately, a German soldier in
the Danish Company’s service knew something about printing and was recruited.
Johann Heinrich Schloricke, was 30 years old at the time, printed in Portuguese the Tranquebar
mission press’s first publications in 1712/13. With this, printing in India got its second wind and
the foundations for today’s thriving Indian Printing Industry were laid.
Ziegenbalg, however, was convinced that the Mission’s work could prove successful only if the
press produced books and other literature in Tamil. He therefore sent back drawings of the Tamil
alphabet to Halle with the request to create Tamil typefaces there. The Tamil type arrived in
Madras on June 29, 1713, together with three Germans who were to galvanize the press and
printing when they got to Tranquebar by the end of August and started work. Initially it was
purely Christian propaganda material that rolled out of here in Tamil. Slowly some educational
material came out. Ziegenbalg was only thirty-six when he died in 1719.

TRANQUEBAR:
Tranquebar is a Dutch, Danish, British Colonial heritage town of pristine beauty and perennial
charm, situated on the Coromandel Coast in the Nagapattinam District in Tamil Nadu, South
India. Tharangambadi, ‘the land of the singing waves’ as the town is known in Tamil, became
Tranquebar for the Danes! This picturesque coastal town lies 15 km south of the ancient Chola
port of Pumpuhar, and 15 km north of the former French comptoir of Karikal.
Motivated by huge profit made by the British and the Dutch East India Companies and driven by
the desire of the Danish Monarch to play a dominant role in the world trade of that time, the
Danish East India Company was formed in Denmark in 1616. In 1620 a treaty was entered into
between Christian IV, the king of Denmark and Ragunatha Nayak, the king of Tanjore by which
the Danes were given permission to erect a fortress at Tranquebar (the Dansborg Fort) and pay an
annual rent of Rs. 3111/-. Till 1845 Tranquebar was a Danish Trade Settlement ruled by
Governors, till the British took over its administration.
Bartholomaeus Ziegenbalg and Heinrich Pluetschau, the German Missionaries from Halle sent
by Frederick IV, the king of Denmark, to spread the Gospel in the Danish settlement, reached
Tranquebar in 1706 and founded the Tranquebar Lutheran mission. A printing press was installed
in the year 1712 and, in 1715, The New Testament, translated into Tamil by Ziegenbalg, was
printed in the Tranquebar Mission Press. For the supply of paper and printing ink a Paper Mill
and an ink manufacturing unit were established in nearby Porayar.
Since Lutheranism spread to the length and breadth of India from here and a mint started
functioning from 1753, Tranquebar is called “The Gateway of Protestantism to India”. Impressed
by the Mission work of the missionaries the king of Denmark sent Moravians to Tranquebar in
1760 to do missionary work in the Nicobar Islands. Since 43 out of 73 Moravians met with
untimely death due to tropical heat and yellow fever the enterprise in Nicobar was closed down
in 1803.
The 700 year old Masilamani Nathar Temple built in 1306 AD by the Pandya King Maravarman
Kulasekara Pandyan is unique in its architecture. It was built combining Chinese architecture
with Tamil architectural technique, possibly in an attempt to attract Chinese merchants who were
visiting India.
Tranquebar is also associated with personalities like the Governor General Peter Anker (a great
painter), Catherine Worlee (the great beauty who was to become the Marchioness of Tallerand),
Lady Clive, Mayuram Vedanayagam Pillai (the first Indian judge), Thillaiyadi Valliammai (a
Tamil Satyagrahi who sacrificed her life in South Africa).
Tranquebar is also famous for its train that functioned from 1926 to 1986.

Tranquebar – The Fort & the Bungalow:

Tharangambadi has many interesting places to visit. Highly elegant colonial structures can be
seen in this town, such as Zion Church – built in 1701, an elaborate New Jerusalem Church
constructed in 1718, and a ruined 18th century Danish Governor’s bungalow.
Tharangambadi Fort Dansborg was built in the 1620s by the Danish captain Ove Gjedde when
Tharangambadi was founded. Initially, the fort had two levels – the lower level accommodated
the soldiers and the horses used for trading, and was used as a prison. The upper level was the
governor’s residence and the priest’s residence. The fort contains a small museum with many
study materials to read and has a few artifacts. Next to the Danish Fort stands a medieval Pandya
temple, disintegrating into the sea.
The Danish Museum displays antiquities belonging to the colonial period. It contains glass
objects, decorated terracotta articles, swords, stucco figurines, Chinese tea jars, daggers,
sculptures, wooden objects, and spears.
Recently, the 19th century collector’s residence was transformed into a heritage hotel by the
Neemrana Group. The exact date of original construction of this building is unknown, but it is
estimated that the building is 150 years old. It was in a state of disrepair and collapse when the
Neemrana Group acquired it. Records say that Arabella Matilda Peterson, the wife of Danish
civil officer William Christian Peterson, inherited the building in December 1857 after the
demise of her husband. She sold the building to Thiru Vellia Nadar after ten years. The
descendants of the Nadar family maintained the building for 125 years by renting it to British
officials, who used it as the collector’s residence. In the early 1990s, the house was sold by the
Nadar family to the Taj group of hotels, but it seems that they did little to restore it.
The heritage hotel is called the “Bunglow of the Beach,” and it is the first hotel to be established
in this historical beach town. According to the people of the town, the Neemrana group has done
a great service, because the hotels will attract more tourists to this charming place, enhancing the
local economy.

BUNGALOW ON THARANGAMBADI BEACH:

By Gunvanthi Balaram, The Hindu, Sep 25, 2005
The 19th-Century Collector's Residence in picturesque Tranquebar has recently been
transformed from a ruin to a heritage hotel.
S bungalows on the beach go, this is a pretty grand one. What's more, it has got not just the
ocean, but history for a view: a stolid Danish fort looming over the sands on the one side and on
the other, a medieval Pandya temple crumbling into the sea.
And now, you can stay and luxuriate here, where the twain seems to have met. For this
19th-Century Collector's Residence in picturesque Tranquebar — or Tharangambadi, as it is
known in Tamil Nadu — has recently been transformed from a ruin to a heritage hotel by the
Neemrana Group.
Simply called the "Bungalow on the Beach", it's the first hotel to be established in this obscure,
but historical, beach town, once a Danish trading post, that lies 100 miles south of Pondicherry
on the Coromandel Coast. And the local populace is the gladder for it. As postmaster M.
Kodandapani observes, "Neemrana has done the town a service. Their hotel will bring more
tourists to this charming, but neglected, place and boost the local economy."
A small, somnolent, wind-blown town which includes a sizeable populace of fisherfolk — 700 of
whom lost their lives in the tsunami last Christmas — Tharangambadi is literally the "Village of
the Dancing Waves". Down the centuries, the waves have often washed over the village causing
havoc in varying degrees. In the last 35 years, the water has swallowed four streets, reveals M.A.
Sultan, local photographer and amateur historian who has penned a booklet entitled
Reminiscences of Tranquebar.
If Pondicherry is distinguished by its French legacy, Tranquebar is distinguished by its Danish
past. Its relics include a gateway sporting the Danish Royal Seal, a fort that's Scandinavian in
appearance rather than Dravidian, a string of imposing colonial bungalows and two early
18th-Century churches. In 1620, a Danish fleet landed at this spot on the Coromandel Coast, and
its Dutch captain Roland Crappe immediately realised that its strategic location made for an ideal
trading post. Ove Gjedde, an admiral in the Danish Navy, then negotiated a treaty on behalf of
the Danish king Christian IV with the Thanjavur king, Vijaya Raghunatha Nayak. He acquired a
10-mile by three-mile-strip of the fishing village from the maharajah for a rent of Rs. 3,111 per
annum, renamed it Tranquebar, and in 1622, built the Dansborg Fort. It was from where the
Danish East India Company traded in spices, silks and other textiles until 1845, when it
transferred the place to the British for a sum of £10,000.
From house to hotel:
Its Danish relics lend Tharangambadi a curious, washed-out charm. The moment you enter its
"Land Gate" you are transported back to another age and time.

How it stands today.

As you traverse the grandly named King Street, the main street that leads from the gate to the
beach, you pass a row of colonial structures, which includes the elegant 1701 Zion Church, and
the more elaborate 1718 New Jerusalem Church (in which lies buried Bartholomeus Zeigenbalg,
a Lutheran missionary and Tamil scholar who set up the country's first printing press here in
1712 and published the first-ever Tamil translation of the New Testament in 1715), and the
tattered 18th-Century Danish Governor's bungalow. At the end of the line stands the new hotel.
The building was in a state of utter disrepair, with parts of the verandah having collapsed when
conservationists Francis Wacziarg and Aman Nath, who set up the Neemrana Group, came
across it. The house had been sold by the local Nadar family to the Taj Group of hotels in the
early 1990s, but the latter had done little to resurrect it. "It was nonetheless lovely," says
Wacziarg. Records revealed that though the exact date of construction was unavailable, the
building was over 150 years old. Arabella Matilda Peterson, widow of Danish civil officer
William Christian Peterson, had inherited the building in December 1857. Ten years later, she
had sold the property to Thiru Vellia Nadar, with whose descendants it remained for 125 years.
For many decades it was rented by the British authorities and used by the collector as his
residence.
`Intelligent' conservation
Wacziarg convinced his friend Sudhir Mulji to buy the house from the Taj, and when that was
accomplished, set about restoring it in early 2003. The operation took about two years and cost
Rs 1.5 crore. The gracious eight-room hotel opened on Christmas Eve last year, but the tsunami
left it washed out a day later. Three months of repairs later, the hotel re-opened.
The building is as much an example of intelligent conservation as it is an evocation of the past,
using as it does a minimum of carefully chosen vintage furniture, paintings and artefacts. Its
high-ceiling rooms are named after old Danish ships and fitted with sheer single-colour
floor-length curtains that billow like sails in the breeze.
Pondicherry-based architects and INTACH activists Ajit and Ratna Koujalgi have carried out the
restoration using traditional material and techniques and the traditional skills of local artisans.
The walls, for instance, have been treated with a traditional lime-stucco plaster using marble-dust
and lime from burnt shells, combined with white cement and color oxides, polished by hand with
smooth round pebbles from a nearby river.
"We used lime mortar and not cement not only because it was used in the original but also
because it performs well in such a marine environment," says Ajit Koujalgi. "The collapsed roof
and floor slabs were reconstructed using the Madras Terrace technique, which comprises flat
burnt bricks-on-edge placed diagonally on wooden joists and stuck together with lime mortar. All
the damaged wooden beams were replaced with recycled teak wood. Fortunately, it was not
difficult to find a team of competent local masons and carpenters for this job." The lovely
coloured cement stuccowork was carried out by talented artisan Veerappan.
The first-floor pillared verandah with flat roof that had been dismantled in the 1940s was
replaced with a lean-to tiled roof, "because it is more in harmony with the rest of the Danish
architecture in Tranquebar," explains Wacziarg. This deeply recessed verandah that runs around
the building on both the ground and first floors is the most attractive feature of the hotel. You can
sit there forever in a comfortable old armchair, reading, or simply gazing out at the boats bobbing
in the sea, or at the (now somewhat pastiche) fort that was used as a warehouse by the Danish
and as a prison by the British, or at the partially submerged Masilamaninathar temple (built in
1305 A.D. by the Pandya king Kulasekaran) whose beautifully carved gopuram lies on its side
on the beach. The only other changes they've wrought is moving the staircase from a side room
to the back of the foyer and put in new bathrooms, of course. "The new staircase is more efficient
and adds to the visual grandeur of the hall," says Wacziarg.
All this for Rs. 1.5 crores.
`Restoration not too expensive'
"It's not always prohibitively expensive to restore an old structure," states Koujalgi. "The cost
depends on what one wants to do — a hotel like this doesn't come cheap: luxurious bathrooms,
air-conditioning, etc. But the abundance of manpower and craft skills in our country enables us
to restore vintage buildings at a reasonable cost. The important thing is that we should have the
will to do it."
Neemrana does. They are now negotiating with the Tamil Nadu Government to convert the old
Danish Governor's bungalow into a heritage hotel. In the meantime, they've also started a
dormitory facility (Rs. 150 per bed per night) in a nearby building constructed several years ago
by the tourism department for that very purpose. It never got round to doing it.
History-minded residents such as Sultan, Kodandapani and Zion Church pastor Christian Samraj
hope that Neemrana's entry will spark heritage and civic consciousness in the locals and in the
authorities. It worries them that many vintage structures, both vernacular and colonial, are being
changed unsympathetically, resulting in eyesores, even on King Street. Heritage buildings need
to be listed and architectural control guidelines enforced to preserve the harmony of the old
streetscape. At the same time, the town's roads, water supply, sanitation and solid waste
management must be improved, they emphasise.
"If the Tamil Nadu Government invests a little interest and money in Tranquebar, the place could
become a big tourist attraction," remarks the pastor. "The government of Denmark and a
voluntary group called the `Tranquebar Association of Denmark' (which helped restore the fort)
have gone on record to express their desire to contribute towards the preservation and
development of Tranquebar," adds Sultan.

TERCENTENARY OF TRANQUEBAR MISSION

The Hindu, July 6, 2006
TIRUCHI: The Tamil Evangelical Lutheran Church (TELC) will celebrate the tercentenary of
the Tranquebar Mission established by the famous German Missionary Bartholomaeus
Ziegenbalg at Tranquebar in Nagapattinam district, on July 8 and 9 by inaugurating various
projects.
The highlight of the celebrations is the dedication of the renovated New Jerusalem Church
constructed by Ziegenbalg at Tranquebar in 1717-1718 and release of hand-written Bible.
Ziegenbalg (born on June 10, 1682) got spiritual guidance from the leader Joachim Lange. With
the help of friends he responded to the appeal of King Frederick IV of Denmark for missionaries.
He was commissioned as Missionary by the King and boarded the ship Princess Sophie Hedwig
towards India on November 29, 1705. None other than the King Frederick IV himself saw him
off.
Ziegenbalg landed at Tranquebar, which was a Danish colony, on July 9, 1706. He was the first
Protestant Missionary and first Royal Missionary from Denmark to India. As he realised the
importance of the language of the local people, he did not lose any time and started learning
Tamil from the 11th day of landing.
He could influence the local people by establishing Tamil seminary in 1707 and taught the
contents of the Bible to the masses. He was a true champion in the cause of women's education.
Finding that women did not enjoy adequate privilege, he analysed that denial of educational
opportunities to them was the key reason for all their socio-economic backwardness. Soon he
founded the first ever school exclusively for girls on the Indian soil.
To empower women, he entrusted the responsibility of its management to a group of widows.
Immense contribution:
Ziegenbalg's contribution to the growth and development of education was immense. He brought
out a dictionary not familiar with the masses in those days. He took efforts to learn spoken Tamil
and the literary Tamil separately. He also brought out two different dictionaries for the use of the
Europeans. He also made a Tamil lexicon.
Ziegenbalg did a yeoman service by establishing the first printing press in Asia in 1712 and
printed calendar, hymns, New Testament and also established a paper mill for producing
indigenous paper and ink. This press helped in bringing out various books in Tamil. In 1715,
Ziegenbalg brought out the first New Testament, a translation in Tamil. It had the privilege of
being the fist printed book in India. Ziegenbalg was the first European to conduct Sermons in
Tamil. He also translated the Tamil literary works including `Ulaga Neethi', `Konrai Venthan',
`Neethi Venba'.
To ensure the sustenance of his work and also for reaching masses, he established a seminary at
Tranquebar for training the native clergy. He built the New Jerusalem Church which was
dedicated on October 11, 1718. Tamils offered their worship to the Lord in their mother tongue
following their cultural practices.
Ziegenbalg showed lot of interest in gaining the confidence of the followers of different faiths
and opened inter-religious dialogues with the leaders of other religions. He was considered as
`Mine of Information' on Indian religions. His most important work on Hinduism was `The
Genealogy of South Indian Gods'. According to the Bishop of the TELC, Rt. Rev. Dr. T.
Aruldoss, the president of the Lutheran World Federation (LWF) and Presiding Bishop, ELCA,
Hannover, Germany, Rt. Rev. Mark Hanson and Bishop, Church of Hannover, Rt. Rev. Mrs.
Margot Kassmann are expected to participate in the two day celebrations.

(Continues)
TAMIL SAW ITS FIRST BOOK IN 1578:
By Karthick Madhavan, The Hindu, June 21, 2010

The first book in Tamil was printed in Kollam, Kerala, on October 20, 1578 by Portuguese
missionary Henrique Henriques. Titled 'Thambiran Vanakkam' it was translation of 'Doctrina
Christam'. The second book was 'Christiani Vanakkam'. Photo: Special Arrangement.

The history of publishing and printing in Tamil is as interesting and rich as the language itself.
The first book dates back to October 20, 1578. On the eventful day, Portuguese missionary
Henrique Henriques (also Anrique Anriquez) published ‘Thambiraan Vanakkam' with paper
imported from China.
Tamil historian Pulavar S. Raju says the 10x14 cm book had 16 pages of 24 lines each and had
the very Tamil font that was then used on palm leaves and stones.
The book was a translation of the Portuguese ‘Doctrina Christam,' authored by Francis Xavier.
Mr. Raju says the book was published as a result of Father Henriques' efforts to have a prayer
book in Tamil.
The book was printed in Kollam using a printing machine imported from Portugal in 1556. “This
was the first book to be published in an Indian language,” he points out.
That was the age when Vijayanagar Empire King Sriranga Rayar the first (1578-1586), Mysore
ruler Raja Woodayar (1578-1617), Madurai ruler Veerappa Nayakar (1572-1595) and
Thanjavur's Achuthappa Nayakar (1572-1614) were still using copper plates and stones for
disseminating information.
Prior to ‘Thambiraan Vanakkam,' a Tamil book was published, but in Portuguese script. Mr. Raju
says the book, ‘Carthila e lingoa Tamul e Portugues,' was printed in Lisbon, the capital of
Portugal.
Father Henriques was born in 1520 in Vila Vicosa, Portugal. After his education at the University
of Coimbra in Portugal, he arrived in India in 1546. The missionary was so fond of Tamil that he
replaced ‘Amen' with ‘Om' while greeting people, says Mr. Raju.
He also authored ‘Christiani Vanakkam' (1579), ‘Confesenario' (1580) and ‘Adiyaar Varalaaru'
(1586). He died on February 6, 1600 in Punnaikayal and was buried in Tuticorin.
Mr. Raju says much of the books published for long thereafter had to do with Christianity. The
first Tamil book to be published in Tamil was Thirukkural in 1812, thanks to the efforts of the
then Chennai Collector Francis White Ellis, who established the Chennai Kalvi Sangam.
It was only in 1835 that Indians were permitted to establish printing press.

First two pictures: Cartilha – first Tamil Book, 1554

Third Picture: Doctrina Christan, 1579
FIRST TAMIL BOOK PRINTED IN 1554:
By Palaniappan Vairam, Facebook
Printing was known to the Human civilization as early as 220 AD. But the advent of movable
printing or the modern printing revolutionized the world of printing. The products of modern
printing techniques were more durable and dependable. Mass production was possible.
With Industrial revolution spread all over Europe and missionaries and merchants travelling all
around the world from Europe, the printing had gained great significance as medium to spread
Christian principles. It wouldn’t be surprising to know that the first book to be printed in the
movable printing type in 1450 was a Bible famously known as the Gutenberg Bible.
Printed books became very important tool for the missionaries who travelled to the third world to
spread Christianity. When they moved to other countries to spread their religion, some of the
missionaries understood the importance of learning the local language and propagating their
ideologies in the local language.
Vasco da Gama a Portuguese explorer was the first European to find sea route to India. He first
landed in in Kappad, near Calicut on 20 May 1498. Six years after his arrival the process of
establishing Portuguese India began. By 1510 then had strong hold along the cost in Kerala and
had a permanent settlement in Goa.
With establishment of Portuguese India the Jesuits missionaries started coming to India to
propagate their Ideologies. Jesuits missionaries were the first to understand the importance of
understanding the local Language.
Henrique Henriques (1520-1600) is one of the first known scholars to have initiated a scientific
study of Tamil Language. He had even proposed erection of a Tamil University as early as 1560
at Mannar or Punnkayil(Tuticorin).
It would be a surprising for many to know that Tamil was the first non European Language to be
printed in a modern press. The First Tamil book was printed in Lisbon on 11.2.1554 in Lisbon
with Romanized Tamil script. The name of the Tamil catechism was ‘Carthila e lingoa Tamul e
Portugues’, by Vincente de Nazareth, Jorge Carvalho and Thoma da Cruz. This was the first time
European language was translated in Tamil. This was also the first continuous text in Indian
Language to be transliterated into a western script.
First printing press was introduced in India in 1556 by Jesuits in Goa. Initial printing was done in
Latin and Portuguese. The first known Tamil types were cast in 1577 in Goa by a Spanish Jesuit,
Juan Gonsalves. But since they were not satisfactory, new casts were made in Quilon(Kollam) in
1578 by Father Joao da Faria.
Impressions of these Tamil letters exist in a book by Henrique Henriques called ‘Tambiran
Vankkam’. This book probably the earliest available book in a Indian font.
The whole title of the book is ‘Doctrina Christam en Lingua Malauar Tamul – Tampiran
Vanakam’.This 16 book of prayers and catechetical instructions were printed in Quilon on 20th
October 1578.
Tamil Christians in Malabar contributed graciously and set up a press in Cochin and printed
‘Doctrina Christam’ alias ‘Kiricittiyani vanakkam’ authored Henriques in Cochin on 14.11.1579.
Around 1586, another book of Henriques, ‘Flos Sanctorum’ (Punitar varalaru of 669 pages) was
printed in Punnaikayil (Tuticorin).
It would be very interesting to compare introduction modern printing in other Countries with
respect to Tamil.

A HISTORY OF THE PRINTED WORD IN TAMIL:

By MS Nagarajan, The Hindu, March 3, 2012
Johannes Gutenberg's printing machine (1439) took the world by storm: it is decidedly among
the most valuable inventions ever known to the modern world, since the ‘global village,' as
Marshll McLuhan would have it, fell within man's grasp. All the wealth of information lying
buried in human consciousness came alive to him. Naturally, the Western world reaped the
rewards of this rich harvest, even as countries such as India were close on the heels. While
William Caxton brought out his first book, Chaucer's Canterbury Tales in 1473, we are told that
the first Indian language book ever to be printed, cast in Tamil types, Tambiran Vanakkam, (only
surviving copy now available at the Harvard University Library) was published in 1577 in Goa.
What's more, Tamil was the first language to appear among non-Roman characters.
Fascinating history:
A.R. Venkatachalapathy's monograph The Province of the Book is fascinating, insightful and
richly detailed — yet condensed — account of the 700 year printing/publishing industry of Tamil
books. It discusses some of the most pertinent questions such as: “When and how did the
institutions of author, publisher, and printer emerge? How far did the colonial state figure in the
emergence of a modern print culture? What were the reading practices and modes of reading
associated with print? (p.13)” U.V. Swaminatha Iyer, who has been publishing with the help of
patrons, wrote to the government in 1905 seeking financial assistance for his work. That marked
a break with the age of patronage. Subramania Bharati represents the transitional period when
the industry moves from patronage to public. How sad that this poet, who was responsible for the
renaissance in Tamil poetry, died broken hearted when his grand plan of selling 40 of his books
at half a rupee per copy failed miserably!
With the rise of the Tamil novel, referred to as the ‘bourgeois art form', a middle class reading
public grew, ushering in a total break with patronage. “It was only after this rupture that the
emergency of the distinct categories/institutions of author, publisher, and printer, which are
eminently the products of the market and the book as a commodity, became possible in the world
of Tamil book publishing” (p.98).
Part-time profession:
However, even after the advent of the different categories such as the author, the publisher and
the printer in the 1920s, Tamil publishing could not acquire a respectable status as an industry.
Unlike his European counterpart a Tamil writer could not think of making it a profession and
sustain himself making an honest pie. The chapter “Songsters of the Crossroads” offers an
interesting treatment of subaltern writers, usually referred to in somewhat sneering terms as
Gujili writers; the section “Policing the Book” discusses the colonial state's control in the matter
of proscribing publications on moral or political grounds and the Copyright Act passed in 1914
by the Government of India. The irony of it all was that these banned copies sold like hot cakes
surreptitiously in unexpurgated editions. The chapter “Reading Practices” discusses the
composition of the readers and the different forms of reading they were habituated to such as
vocalised reading and silent reading. The epilogue rightly takes up the hotly debated issue: can
the printed book survive the onslaught of digital technology? The contemporary situation shows
a phenomenal growth in publishing with corporate bodies undertaking this task presenting the
book in the most coveted design in layout, typeface, etc. The book scene in the Tamil country
“presents not a picture of gloom but of great promise” for Venkatachalapathy who holds the
optimistic view that its “Tamil avatar is far from dead.”
The Appendices on book production and printing costs supply us with a complete inventory on
the book trade over the centuries. The comprehensive bibliography serves as a reliable guide to
the whole area of book production in Tamil Nadu. The Province of the Book shows ample
evidence of exemplary scholarship and thorough-paced research.

The Province of the Book:

“Scholars, Scribes, and Scribblers in Colonial Tamil Nadu,” A.R. Venkatachalapathy, Permanent
Black, 2012, p.292, Rs. 795.
Also refer “India's Literary History: Essays on the Nineteenth Century”, Stuart H. Blackburn,
Vasudha Dalmia – 2004.
“History of printing and publishing in India: a story of cultural re-awakening (volume 1) -
Vol. I: South Indian origins of printing and its efflorescence in Bengal” by B. S. Kesavan
Assisted by P.N. Venkatachari, Anima Das, B. K. Sen, National Book Trust, India. New Delhi,
1985
The Madras Tercentenary Commemoration Volume, 1994, Chennai
Reformers in India, 1793-1833: An Account of the Work of Christian, Cambridge University
Press, By Kenneth Ingham

FIVE CENTURIES OF PRINT IN INDIA

By Rimi B Chatterjee, Himal, May 2011
Southasian books are ancient; Southasian printing is not. This is in spite of the fact that printing
was invented in Asia, probably by the Koreans, and wooden blocks were extensively used in
Southasia to print textiles from medieval times. It is significant that Johannes Gutenberg
invented movable type just before the Portuguese pioneered the sea route to this region,
bypassing the Arab world and making it possible for Europe to interact directly with Asia. The
‘codex’ book, the form of the book that we know and love today, was made possible by a
constellation of technologies of which movable type was the brightest star. All this made the
codex eminently portable and thus exportable. The printed codex became the vehicle in which
European thought travelled the world.
In Southasia, contact with Europe quickly produced various attempts by the Europeans to
manufacture codexes locally, mainly to facilitate their dealings with locals. In this, the Catholic
Church swallowed its dislike of printers and worked alongside the Protestants to adapt printing
technology to conditions in this region. The Portuguese introduced printing with movable type
into Goa around 1556, on a press originally intended to be a gift for the ruler of Abyssinia
(modern-day Ethiopia) but becalmed by a series of improbable events in Goa. The Catholic
brotherhood were very eager to please any African potentate they came across, due to the legend
of Prester John, the mythical king of a lost Christian nation in Africa whom all the
empire-builders wanted to find. (The African church had indeed been the largest Christian
congregation in the early centuries of Christianity.) When the king of Abyssinia asked for one of
the newfangled writing machines, one was dispatched from Lisbon; but on its long and eventful
journey around the coast of Africa, including shipwreck and the death of its pressman, it reached
Goa, too late to be sent to the king, who had died. For a while it lay unused in Goa, until another
pressman could be sent out to make use of it. Thereafter, it became part of the imperial
establishment in Southasia’s premier European territory.
During the 17th century there were a few colonial centres of printing, such as the Danish colony
Tranquebar, near the mouth of the Kaveri River in modern-day Tamil Nadu, the headquarters of
Bartholomew Ziegenbalg, the Lutheran missionary, from 1712. In Vepery, near Madras, the
scholar Fabricius used a press captured by the British from the French to print his Tamil
hymnbooks, since the Europeans apparently spent a lot of time and effort in Southasia stealing
printing presses from each other.
Because European labour cost a lot to export and maintain in the tropics, from the very start
European printing relied to a great extent on local labour. European printing house masters were
therefore at pains to train their indigenous employees in the craft. Goldsmiths, blacksmiths and
jewellers (and among locals there were some very expert examples of these) constituted the
groups who provided the requisite skilled labour, particularly in the delicate and complex
business of creating new typefaces. The workers who learned these skills then moved around and
joined other concerns, thus spreading skill sets through the industry. Such was the case with
Panchanan Karmakar, who worked with Charles Wilkins to create the first Bengali typeface.
Portable debate:
Quite rapidly, the culture of print began to spread in ‘native’ circles. Printing began in Bombay
in 1674-75 when Bhimji Parekh, a Gujarati, applied to the East India Company for a press and
pressman for 50 pounds a year. In 1790 and 1791, the Courier and the Bombay Gazette began to
appear, around the same time that newspapers were becoming all the rage in Calcutta. By 1812,
Fardunji Marzaban’s press had printed the first Gujarati almanac. Ganpathi Krishnaji brought out
the first Marathi periodical in Bombay, Digdarshan, in 1840, followed by Bahu Mahajan in 1843
with Prabhakar.

Newspapers began as instruments of colonial communication among Westerners, but the people
of the Subcontinent soon saw what a great idea newspapers were, and wanted to set up their own.
For locals, newspapers soon performed new functions. While some papers, such as the
semi-serious ‘news’ reports published in Bengali by Battala printers in Calcutta retailing
salacious stories about babus and rulers, retained their original purpose as scandal sheets and
gossip-shops, others, in the hands of the educated elites, became more like the coffee-shop
papers of 18th-century London: reformers of manners and forums of debate. Indians had always
been talkative people, but before print, debate had been a face-to-face thing, with the written
manuscript only marginally extending the reach of the word beyond the circle of actual listeners.
Now debates could be folded, tied neatly with string and carried all-round the country, to be
unfurled where needed and argued all over again.
The colonial centres catalysed this process. In the south, after the establishment in 1812 of the
Press of the College of Fort St George at Madras, the 1830s saw the rise of the ‘pundit presses’,
with Kalvi Vilakkam, the joint venture of Charavanaperumal Aiyar and Vichakaperumal Aiyar,
established in 1834. Nathaniel Brassey Halhed’s Grammar of the Bengali Language appeared in
1778, and was printed with Bengali types designed and produced by Charles Wilkins and
Panchanan Karmakar. Interestingly, the Honourable Company’s Press initially had nothing to do
with the East India Company: it was a private venture begun in 1780 by James Augustus Hicky,
formerly in prison for debt, and took Company work on contract. Hicky printed the Bengal
Gazette, which carried much scandal and rumour but was also an important voice against
corruption, until Arthur Wellesley outlawed freedom of the Southasian press in 1799, largely
because England was at war with France. Wellesley’s strictures on the press remained in force till
the 1830s and generated much friction with the native intelligentsia; Rammohan Roy along with
Several Indian magazine owners and James Silk Buckingham, editor of the The Englishman,
unsuccessfully challenged Wellesley’s directives in 1823. It is to be noted that the press in
England during the time was also heavily censored, through taxation and surveillance, because of
fears that the French Revolution would infect the general population and cause an uprising at
home.
Rammohan Roy’s Persian paper, Mirat ul Akhbar, was an important forerunner of middle-class
print culture, and perhaps it was this middle-class engagement with newsprint that scared the
government more than the scandal sheets. Along with Roy, who was writing for a highly
educated, cosmopolitan, Persian-speaking but largely Hindu traditional elite, James Silk
Buckingham, in his Calcutta Journal, addressed the European friends of freedom, in other words
liberal-minded Britons in Calcutta, in their joint campaign for the end of censorship in 1823 – a
rare example of colonial cooperation across racial and political divides. To the Supreme Court
they presented a plea, titled the ‘Areopagitica of the Indian Press’, taking the name of John
Milton’s famous anti-censorship tract. Roy fought his case all the way to the Privy Council, but
was eventually forced to close his paper. In the final issue he cited as forerunners both Milton
and Hafiz, and rued that he had not been victorious in his quest for Indian intellectual freedom.
Wellesley’s restrictions were lifted in 1835, but the war of 1857 led to further clampdowns in the
1860s.

Peeping:
While working for an indigo planter, William Carey had translated the New Testament into
Bengali. His plans to print it were scuttled by the Company’s antipathy to missionaries, which
forced him to shift to Srirampur, a Danish colony. There the new press, joined by Panchanan
Karmakar, produced Carey’s Bible, Krittibas’s Ramayana (a popular Bengali transcreation of the
original Sanskrit epic) and the first four parts of Kashiram’s Mahabharata (1803), as well as
Bengali textbooks for the mission’s schools. In 1818, the Baptists began two Bengali periodicals,
Digdarshan and Samachar Darpan, both landmark periodicals aimed at providing useful
information on science, current affairs, administration and history to the youth. Between 1800
and 1832, when the press burned down, the Baptist Mission Press printed 212,000 volumes in
forty languages – the first truly industrial print house in Southasia.
By 1807, Babu Ram’s press in Kidderpore was printing Hindi and Sanskrit books for Fort
William College, by which Babu Ram was said to have earned lakhs of rupees. A decade later,
Gangakishor Bhattacharya was printing the first Bengali periodicals. Around 1815, the first
printer (probably Biswanath Deb) set up shop under a banyan tree (which is also called battala
and from which the press derives its name) in the Shobhabazar area, laying the foundations of
the popular Battala press. The early Battala books were printed on imitations of palm-leaf
manuscripts, in ‘landscape’ format on a strip-like page, bound at the top margin and without
copyright notice. Most of the Battala output was religious or cultic texts, often dealing with the
Indian erotic sublime (with appropriate illustrations) – earning the press a reputation of being a
pornographer, at least in European eyes. Collections of obscene songs sung on wedding nights by
women were also popular, and much of the Battala readership was female. Organisations such as
the Brahmo Samaj, influenced by European disgust, campaigned to ‘clean up’ Bengali literature
and life, including Battala books. Eventually, this led to a change in the religious landscape of
Bengal, sending the Tantra-influenced Vaishnav and Shaiva/Shaktite sects and their sexually
uninhibited literatures underground or concealing them in esoteric enclaves.
Books did not just allow the pre-Independence Southasia to peep through the European eye; they
also brought a whole new way of arranging one’s life. Previously, people had always written
sitting on the floor, using one hand as a rest and the other to write with a metal stylus, usually on
a palm leaf or a piece of paper folded to fit the dimensions of the hand. Or they might use a low
desk, in front of which they sat cross-legged. But now European reading and writing desks were
on show at the big shops in the Western parts of town, and foreign-returned travellers furnished
their lavish houses in the latest fashion, with rococo gilt-edged mirrors, dining tables and dinner
services, kissing-seats, grand pianos, sofas and sideboards. A study had to have walls of
leather-bound books – leather would never have wrapped a Hindu holy text, of course, though
tooled-leather covers for Qurans were often things of beauty. The new way of dealing with words
transformed the interiors of our houses: the codex book came trailing clouds of wood varnish.
The 1830s saw the spread of printing to the Ganga plain. A feature of presses in these areas was
the widespread use of lithography, since many of the texts used the Perso-Arabic script, for
which the cutting of type that can match the sinuous beauty of calligraphy is difficult and
expensive. So, the preferred method was to print from a litho stone, on which a skilled
calligrapher had written the laterally inverted script. Lucknow, Benaras and Kanpur became
centres of printing. The Newal Kishore Press was established in 1858 by the journalist Neval
Kishore Bhargava, and printed on the latest European presses. In the second half of the 19th
century, with the spread of British rule up the Ganga plain, the cantonment towns of Meerut,
Allahabad, Agra and Bareilly acquired nascent printing industries, as did some pilgrimage
centres such as Mathura and Gorakhpur. Missionaries also brought presses with them as they
pushed north and west into the Punjab. The output of these presses included Urdu qissas, dastans
(tales and exploits) and masnavis (long poems).
By the 1870s the, spread of primary education in both English and the vernaculars had created a
huge book market. The Battala presses added notebooks and ‘keys’ to their repertoire, as well as
a little piracy of ‘set’ textbooks. The Calcutta presses, both respectable and otherwise, supplied
books and pamphlets to Lucknow, Allahabad, Delhi and the Punjab, north to Assam and states of
the Northeast, or south to Orissa and the nizamate of Hyderabad. Meanwhile, Bombay served the
western coast as well as East Africa, and Madras served the south including many princely
states. Wholesalers could get the latest books and journals from London within 18 months,
reduced to six months after the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869.
Hands-off approach:
Thacker & Spink, trading as ‘Thacker’ in Bombay, was one of the best known ‘Anglo-Indian’
booksellers. Another was A H Wheeler & Co, which had bookshops in most of the major railway
stations. Wheeler was set up in 1887 by Emile Moreau, T K Banerjee, two Englishmen and
another Indian; since 1950, Banerjee’s heirs have owned it. A H Wheeler now has 258 railway
bookshops, but its exclusive right to serve the railway is gone. Oxford University Press(OUP)
published many Indological titles during the 19th century; in 1912 E V Rieu set up the Indian
Branch in Bombay. OUP’s first Indian titles were Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan’s Essentials of
Psychology and J N Farquhar’s The Crown of Hinduism. Blackie was also active, especially in
Bombay, and published one blockbuster title, Wren & Martin’s Grammar.
 By the 1910s, subsequent to Viceroy George Curzon’s criticism of Indian education, many
rounds of ‘Indian-isation’ were undertaken by the increasingly Indian-staffed and native-funded
school system, and books such as the Panchatantra were now favoured over European texts for
children by many textbook committees. Statistics gathered by the Departments of Public
Instruction show that the number of children in primary education rose steeply in the early 20th
century, and new universities began to come up everywhere. Subcontinental publishing included
small scholarly presses such as Shams ul Ulama Zakaullah of Delhi, which won a case against
Macmillan regarding the translation of mathematics textbooks. There were presses such as S K
Lahiri & Co, run by scions of aristocratic families (Lahiri’s grandfather was Ramtanu Lahiri, an
important Brahmo reformer). There were booksellers such as D B Taraporevala, who traded not
only all over India’s western coast but in East Africa as well. There were also firms such as
Radhabai Atmaram Sagoon of Bombay, run by a woman. There were missionary presses, like the
centuries-old SPCK at Vepery near Madras, the YMCA Press in Calcutta and the Basle Mission
Press at Mangalore. There were presses that printed nationalist, revolutionary material, often
underground outfits functioning in secret locations.
From its inception, print had been a double-edged sword, with the Goa press producing both
tracts against the Jews by orthodox writers, and a catalogue of spices, herbs and simples by
Garcia da Orta, a Sephardic Jew. For every tract praising the government and furthering its
agendas, there were twenty that did the opposite. Few in the steel frame of colonial Indian
government approved of this, but they did remarkably little to check it, moving in to break up
seditious presses only if the people running them were also active wagers of war against the
state. By and large, the press was watched, but not warded: information was gathered but rarely
acted upon. This was partly due to practical issues: the English press was watched more closely
than the vernaculars because the bewildering variety and diversity of Southasian languages
constituted a conceptual jungle into which the British, with their notorious ineptitude with
languages, were not prepared to hack very deeply. If a book or press was censored, it was usually
after the fact, when the effects of the text or activity were so noticeable as to constitute a
problem. Only then did the colonial power review the intelligence regarding the text and go after
those responsible; otherwise, it was content to let things be. If Europeans were involved,
however, it was another matter, as happened with the Reverend James Long’s translation of
Dinabandhu Mitra’s anti-indigo Bengali play Nil Darpan in 1861, which resulted in the
embarrassment of indigo planters when it became a sensation in London and caused a lot of
questions to be raised about the planters’ treatment of Indian workers and farmers.
Hence, when the Indian colonial era ended, the printing and publishing industry lost none of its
vigour. Remarkably quickly, Southasia acquired a library of path-breaking social-science titles,
fiction, cheap and handy reference, and even nationalist comic books, all thanks to native
entrepreneurs and flourishing in a hefty bouquet of Southasian languages. Companies such as
Asia Publishing House, Popular Prakashan, Allied Publishers and Jaico Books rushed to fill the
vacuum that the flight of British capital would leave, and to create a truly Indian book culture.
They published the new scholarship that was being generated by the pioneer scholars of this
time. Jaico Books was established in 1946 by Jaman Shah, who named his company ‘Jai’
(victory) in celebration of the region’s imminent independence. Allied Publishers was begun by
M Graham Brash, who had once been employed by Macmillan but had left to marry a ‘native’
woman in Lucknow, scandalising his employers. In 1947, Allied was taken over by R N
Sachdeva and became one of the largest wholesalers in India. The late Anant Pai set up Amar
Chitra Katha to take the message of nationalism into the heart of every schoolchild, and the
effects of his iconic series in moulding the early sensibility of the first generation of Indian
citizens was incalculable.
Liberalised volumes:
Having expanded during the 1950s and 1960s, Indian publishing largely stagnated in the 1970s
and 1980s due to restrictions on imports, scarce capital, poor market returns and heavy
regulation. The book scene was trapped in a vicious cycle whereby the lack of good publishers
(with a few exceptions) meant authors who got published in the region remained unknown. So,
many emigrated to be published in the West, thus depriving publishers of good books to publish
and ensuring they did not get any better. With the 1990s and liberalisation, this changed, and the
Indian publishing scene is today vibrantly alive. There is a healthy mix of large houses doing
titles for mass appeal, alongside small, individualistic presses catering to familiar niche markets.
We have also seen the maturing of the ‘language’ markets and the rise of bilingual publishing.
With at least 20 major literary languages and many minor ones, the possibilities for translation
set the region’s book market apart from all other markets, even Europe, although there is still a
great deal to be done in that area.
Print in the Subcontinent has merely been the latest means for a culture of the word to develop
and thrive. Unlike in Europe, the cult of the beautiful book has never really caught on here, and
books were, and to a large extent still are, utilitarian objects. Perhaps this is because unlike in
Europe, the printed book in India never became a vehicle for the holy scriptures in the way the
printed Bible became an object of reverence and ritual in the West. In this region, at first, printed
books produced by the unholy White man were for passing exams and getting jobs, two
functions that they continue to steadfastly perform. It is only now, as South-Asian publishing
seems set to explode into a new post-liberalisation phase, that the situation appears to be
changing.
Perhaps we have finally shaken off our post-colonial hangover and decided to make the book our
own, as well as to make our own books. The freshness and willingness to experiment by
publishers of India today, and the explosion of fiction and non-fiction in new and edgy genres, is
very heartening. Standards of printing, book design and presentation have been getting better and
better, although editorial standards do show some glaring lapses. In this climate, there is no
telling where the Southasian book will go next. Foreign investment in Southasian literature has
been coming in a steady stream, unfazed by world recession and downturns in sales over more
traditional markets. Not only have foreign publishers been opening offices here at the rate of one
major publisher per year (latest biggies include Random House, Hachette and Routledge) but
Southasian publishers have been going global, making their presence felt at international book
fairs and bidding for the rights to hot new titles. The vast potential for translated literature in the
melange of languages spoken in the Subcontinent promises in sheer volume to dwarf Europe’s
similar sales across languages, provided publishers can get their quality right. The global quality
of Southasian writers has been proven again and again, and now finally the publishing world is
acknowledging that here is where the action is, in the bookshops, cafes and sitting rooms of the
reading Southasian public.

Note: Rimi B Chatterjee is an author and academic. She has published three novels and teaches
English at Jadavpur University, Kolkata.
 FIRST ENGLISH BOOK IN INDIA
(Graham Shaw, The Hindu, May 29, 2016)

The seeds of English language learning in India were sown exactly 300 years ago in Chennai, in
the form of a textbook that rolled off a press in tiny Tharangambadi.

Ask mask flask Bite kite mite Blab crab drab Bloom broom gloom Creak sneak squeak Dust gust
rust Hiss kiss miss House louse mouse Hunch lunch punch Job lob mob Laid maid paid Met net
pet Nib rib crib Rub tub blub Shy sky fly Stitch switch twitch Winch flinch clinch…
Do these word groups mean anything to you? Are they lodged in your memory from some
distant childhood day when you made your first faltering attempts to say some English words? If
so, then your early schooling connects you all the way back to the first English textbook for
beginners ever printed in India.
Today, India is the world’s largest publisher of English books after the U.S. and the U.K., a direct
legacy of British colonial rule. Every year, about 20,000 English-language titles are printed,
despite the preference for publishing in regional languages growing steadily.
But when did this English-language publishing phenomenon begin? Was it the result of British
parliamentarian T.B. Macaulay’s infamous ‘Minute on Indian Education’ (1835), ending the East
India Company’s funding of pathshalas and madrasas in favour of government schools with
English as the medium of instruction?
Or did it start earlier, with the Company’s remorseless promulgation of English regulations from
the late 18th century onwards? No, we must go further back in time still. The answer lies in the
history of missionary education in Chennai.
Exactly 300 years ago, on May 12, 1716, a small edition of an English schoolbook rolled off the
press at Tharangambadi. This was Thomas Dyche’s A guide to the English tongue, printed for
use in the charity school for poor Protestant children, established in Chennai in 1715 by East
India Company’s chaplain, William Stevenson. This was the first book to be printed in English in
India, or in the whole of Asia.
Dyche, a London schoolmaster, had first had his Guide published in London in 1707 and it
became an instant success. One London printer alone, Charles Ackers, issued no less than 33
editions between 1733 and 1747, averaging yearly sales of 18,000 copies! The emphasis in
Dyche’s book was on teaching children to recognise and pronounce words correctly. Learning to
stress on the correct syllable would prevent, in Dyche’s own phrase, “vicious pronunciation”.
His Guide contained lists of similar-sounding words, such as those quoted above. First
monosyllables were listed, then words of two syllables, then words of three. Words of two
syllables were divided into those with the stress on the first syllable, followed by those with the
stress on the second syllable, and so on. Clearly, this was a textbook explicitly designed for
learning by rote.Children were instructed to repeat these word groups over and over until they
were fully committed to memory. Dyche believed that words that rhymed by eye as well as ear
would develop children’s reading memory — what he called “gingling” with words.
The 1716 Tharangambadi edition of Dyche’s Guide was printed as part of Stevenson’s plan for
his new charity school on the English model, opened a year earlier. Copies of Dyche’s work had
probably already been used in the free-school conducted by George Lewis, Stevenson’s
predecessor as East India Company chaplain, from 1712 until 1714, when Lewis returned to
Britain.
These could have been copies of the first 1707 or second 1710 London editions that had been
imported. By 1716 perhaps, those copies had become worn out and needed replacing; or maybe
the number of pupils began to exceed the number of copies available. But Stevenson had no
means of printing more copies locally.
Chennai’s first press would not arrive until 1761, looted by the British from the French at the
siege of Pondicherry. Stevenson’s only option therefore was to apply to the mission press at
Tharangambadi. On November 14, 1715, he wrote to the Lutheran missionary Johann Ernst
Gründler requesting a print run of 200 copies of Dyche’s Guide. The Tharangambadi
missionaries agreed to do the work free of cost. It was no doubt an unauthorised reprint — a
pirate edition, like many early Indian imprints.
The book obviously proved its worth as a textbook in the Chennai mission school. No doubt its
attraction to Stevenson, as to Lewis before him, was enhanced by the Christian messages and
child’s morning and evening prayers included among the reading passages to be memorised.
Seven years later, in 1723, a second edition was printed, again at Tharangambadi. Only two
copies of even this second edition are recorded worldwide, neither in India itself. One is held in
the Sterling Memorial Library of Yale University and the other in the Royal Library at
Copenhagen. Both holdings have direct links to India — to Chennai and Tharangambadi.
Elihu Yale amassed a fortune through illegal profiteering while serving as the East India
Company’s first president of Fort St. George, from 1684 to 1685, and again, from 1687 to 1692.
Part of that fortune funded his purchase of books for the Connecticut College that would later
bear his name. The work’s presence in Copenhagen reflects the fact that by decree of the King of
Denmark, the Tharangambadi missionaries were required to send back a copy of every book they
printed in the colony for inspection and approval.
Sadly, not a single copy of the first edition has ever been traced, adding to the common myth of
schoolbooks being studied to destruction. So, wouldn’t it be wonderful — in this tercentenary
year of English publishing in India — if a copy could at last be located in Chennai itself? In a
small institutional library? Or perhaps, in a private family collection? A long-overdue rummage
through neglected shelves may yet reveal an important milestone in India’s publishing history.
Graham Shaw is the former Head of Asia, Pacific & Africa Collections at the British Library,
London. He has written widely on the history of printing and publishing in India.

ARMENIAN CHURCH ROTS AWAY DUE TO NEGLECT AND CALAMITIES

(By Rachel Chitra, Times of India, Jan 12, 2017)

304-year-old monument with Burmese wood and antique bells awaits renovation:
CHENNAI: The Armenian Church, built in 1712, has weathered many a storm in the last 300
years, but cyclone Vardah managed to leave its mark on this landmark monument in Chennai.
With insufficient funds and lack of public interest, certain portions of the church such as its
famous bell tower, housing 26-inch wide bells, overhead pews and wooden rafters- built with
Burmese wood- need massive repair. These portions have been cordoned off for the general
public as they are unsafe for use.
In the last few decades, services have become a rarity in the 304-year-old church with mass
being served only on Christmas by a high priest, who comes down from the Armenian Apostolic
Church in Kolkata.
"This is one of Chennai's most beautiful and unique institutions. When the cyclone hit, we lost a
lot of ancient trees. The woodwork has weakened and the plaster is falling off in places," said
Jude Johnson, caretaker of the Armenian Church aka Church of Holy Virgin Mother Mary.
The church, which is opened for tourists, from 9 am to 2 pm every day, is nestled in the busy hub
of Parrys. The Armenian Street- named after the church- has banks, corporate establishments,
schools, shops, eateries, clothing retailers and a host of other establishments. Yet visitors to the
church number few and far between.
"Once in a while, we get Armenian families, who have heard about the church. But weeks can go
by without us seeing anyone. For them, the attraction is tracing their ancestors. The church's
flagstones are inlaid with the graves of about 350 Armenians. For the Armenians, death was as
much a part of life and they did not believe in erecting separate graveyards. The stone epitaphs
also bear testament to the lives of Armenian merchants, being embedded with grapes, quills,
grain, ships, etc," said Johnson.
Chennai, which has always been a melting pot of cultures, has a richness of culture and value
systems unrivalled by other cities. The city has its own rich blend of mosques, rubbing shoulders
with temples and churches. But while the city's Roman Catholic, Protestant, Syrian Christian,
Marthoma churches, and those other denominations see a steady stream of church attendants and
visitors- for instance, the St Mary's Church, St Thomas Basilica, Kirks and St George's Cathedral
- the Armenian Church is solitary in its inclusiveness.
And its relative solitude was reflected during the cyclone, when trees got uprooted and the
plaster got dented. With the state authorities taking little to no interest in this heritage monument,
it has fallen squarely on the shoulders of the Armenian Church in Kolkata- which also suffers
from the same lack of church attendance and interest- to maintain the premises.
The magnificent belfry, which houses six large bells weighing more than 150kg, today is out of
bounds for the commoner. The wooden stairwell, which leads up to its narrow upper climbs has
become too weak for regular use. Uniquely cast, the first bell was hand cast in 1754, while the
last two bells were added nearly a century later in 1837. Shipped in from London, the bells still
bear the inscriptions "Thomas Mears, founder, London."
The church bells, each of which differs in size and were added decades and centuries apart, are
rung only on Sundays by the caretaker at 9am.
For the rest of the week, the bells remain silent as does the church, which is a testament to the
Armenians' skills as merchants of silk, spices and gems. The motifs of the church are
predominately Mediterranean, with the altar and pews made of Burmese wood in mint condition.
The wooden rafters and the upper pews, however, have not escaped the ravages of time. The
creaky wooden stairwell and the upper beams in the main church structure have become so weak
that visitors are not allowed and even cleaning is done occasionally. The church's plaster is
chipped in multiple places with the paint peeling off. "Given its solid structure and the fact that it
has weathered centuries, a little restoration will go a long way to bringing it back to its former
glory," Johnson added.