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March 23, 2025
Recap on Digital Preservation
It may seem quiet, but we’ve been very busy in digital preservation over in Library & University Collections!
A quick recap – L&UC looks after a wide range of digital resources, from University Committee papers to climate change data to open access journals to artworks. Digital preservation describes the work we undertake to ensure these valuable resources can be accessed and used into the future. Some digital resources, like websites, have a very short lifespan, so digital preservation often starts (or should start!) as soon as someone creates one. That doesn’t mean we keep everything. Digital preservation aims to ensure selected, unique resources are preserved and that the other stuff gets deleted as soon as it’s no longer needed.
At the University Library you have access to a huge range of material for your research and learning including over 2 million books, archives, instruments and artworks, over 2 million e-books and 330,000 e-journals, as well as 1000s of streaming videos, digital scans, databases, and more.
But when you are doing your own research there will be times you come across items or material that our Library does not have in its collections. Don’t panic! There are options available to help you get what you need. Read More
The best part of my job is looking through the new datasets submitted to DataShare, our open-access data repository. One of the first datasets that gripped me was; Debates on slavery and abolition held by student debating societies at the University of Edinburgh, 1765-1870.
This dataset is really cool because as well as being a valuable resource for future research projects, it’s extremely interesting to read, even as someone who doesn’t know anything about historical research. This readability is what makes humanities dataset submissions so fun to process.
This dataset summarises debates on chattel slavery and abolition by two of the University’s debating societies during roughly the last hundred official years of the Transatlantic slave trade. It includes motions and outcomes of the debates, as well as information about the people participating and the positions they took.
It’s easy to tell ourselves that people in the past caused unimaginable harm because they didn’t know any better. Maybe this impulse is a form of self-preservation, a way to deny our ancestors’ agency to protect them – and ourselves – from blame. The dataset reminds us that even at the height of the slave trade there were many people publicly voicing their opposition. The data give us some insight into how these men understood their own complicity in slavery and their responsibility in upholding or abolishing it.
It’s interesting to see, for example, that some debate outcomes were pro-abolition, but against immediate abolition. Or how a debate on whether it would be sound policy to abolish the African slave trade had a unanimously pro-abolition outcome in 1792, yet full emancipation didn’t come for over forty years.
A preview of ‘University of Edinburgh Dialectic Society debates on slavery and abolition, 1792-1870’. From Buck, Simon; Frith, Nicola; Curry, Tommy. (2024). Debates on slavery and abolition held by student debating societies at the University of Edinburgh, 1765-1870 [text]. University of Edinburgh. Institute for Advanced Studies in the Humanities. https://doi.org/10.7488/ds/7841.
Decolonised Transformations – Confronting the University’s Legacies of Slavery and Colonialism
The datasets have been downloaded multiple times since they were shared in November, so I’m sure other people are finding this data as interesting as I am.
Evelyn Williams
Research Data Support Assistant
So, how have you been searching for databases for your studies so far?
Have you been using the link from myEd?
Or perhaps going straight to the Databases A-Z list or by subject?
Well, now there is another way that is user friendly and hopefully can increase your engagement with using databases. A Library Databases search went live a few weeks ago. Its aim is to improve the way you search for databases; you can either search by name (if you already know the name of the database you want to access) or by subject. Using either way, will limit the results in DiscoverEd to the ones that are most relevant.
Here are two examples:
a) if you want to search for Westlaw, you type the name of the database and click on the search button. As soon as you do that, you will be directed to the Westlaw link in DiscoverEd
b) if you don’t know which database you want to access but instead search by subject, then you will get a list of databases that are relevant to the subject term you inserted. In this example, I used ‘law’.
In both cases, please remember to sign in before you go any further so that you can access all the material we are subscribed to.
The usage of this new featured will be monitored over the next few months (in comparison to the Databases A-Z for example) and if you find it useful, any feedback will be welcomed.
Till then, happy searching and be in touch with any comments!
The Sir Charles Lyell Project has technically finished, and our final blogs will offer some guidance for access and future use – BUT – we just want to share a really special update! During the project, further acquisitions were made, including two albums which were collated by Lyell’s family but since sold and held in private hands. Through the brilliant work of the Cultural Heritage Digitisation Service (CHDS) these albums are now available digitally for this first time. Please check out the CHDS blog to find out about the technical aspects of this work;
For some historical context and musings on their content, read on!
How easy do you find accessing your own papers and records? Can you find things immediately, or, does it take some searching through drawers and cupboards to find the information you need? How many times a day do you search through your digital files? Now imagine those actions, applied to a collection of scientific research, amassed during the 19th century, a time of seismic change in how people viewed and understood the world – and – imagine those actions performed by a number of people, over the span of 100 years.
We are of course talking about Charles Lyell’s comprehensive archive and published works – held at the University. With acquisitions dating 1927, 2019 and 2020, the archive bears evidence of his organisation, right from the start of his career. His travel journal dated Summer 1818 documenting his Grand Tour has title sections, allowing us to trace his itinerary, but pages are unnumbered, and there are no indexes – access tools that he’d later employ. After attending Oxford University, and training as a lawyer, his approach to his work was always to gather testimony and evidence to make a conclusive case. In his quest to codify geology, and in writing the Victorian textbook of its age, Principles of Geology (Murray, 1st edition 1830 – 12th edition 1875), he collected masses of data, and, he needed to access it – on more than one occasion to prove the authenticity of his research. Indeed, we know that page numbering was a task that he allocated time to, as was numbering his specimens. Lyell’s own organisation is demonstrable, but what happens when multiple people are involved, perhaps different homes, or stores, and with a timeframe of over 100 years? How much impact do people and time have on an archive?
Following the acquisitions of Lyell records in 2019- 20, the University purchased more, including two albums compiled by Leonard Lyell, Lyell’s nephew, containing letters sent to Lyell and others in the family including his wife Mary Horner Lyell, father Charles Lyell (1767–1849), father-in-law Leonard Horner (1785-1864), and brother Francis Horner (1778-1817). In both albums, most of the letters are accompanied by a facing photograph or portrait print of the letter’s author. What is clear is that for the letters sent to Charles Lyell at least, the contents of these albums were originally part of his correspondence – we can spot the same summaries, written on the letter of envelope, meaning these letters were part of his original A-Z series – now catalogued in two tranches 1927 and 2020 . By purchasing these albums, and in facilitating access to them, we are further extending the scope of Lyell’s network of ‘able investigators’.
It is apparent from Lyell’s archive, that Lyell’s family surrounded and supported him in his work. Lyell had ten siblings, Mary had six sisters, one of whom married Lyell’s brother. The family was close, sharing interests, travels and correspondence. It’s gratifying then, to see them included in these albums, which serve to show Lyell at the heart of an educated, inquisitive and connected family.
Despite being one of the figure heads in 19th century science, Lyell’s archive reveals he did not work alone. His wife Mary created a number of the indexes in the notebooks – and there is admin support from his original clerk, George Hall (fl 1828-1843), and Arabella Buckley (1840-1929), his secretary from 1863. Their organisation has greatly assisted our progress in describing, and linking back up, the collection. We’ve been able to utilise their ways of working for example, in cataloguing – recreating an almost entire A-Z series of voluminous correspondence, and using their summaries of each letter, found either on the reverse, or on the envelope – and the original page numbering has supported digitisation.
Understanding this work is greatly enhanced by these albums, which are now catalogued, reference Coll-1997 photographed and available digitally here and here, ensuring more work can continue.
The University has actively collected books, objects, instruments and art since its foundation and continues to invest to this day in ensuring that our collections are actively and responsibly developed, reflecting the University’s teaching and research needs, as well as our collections’ strengths and weaknesses. By doing so, we are also adding to Scotland’s collective cultural heritage, building a collection for the nation. In an average year, the librarians, archivists and curators of Heritage Collections acquire hundreds of pieces of cultural heritage and are responsible for the development of the University’s collections. If you would like to find out more,take a look at our editions of ‘Recollect’, which you can pick up for free on the 6th floor Main Library, George Square, or you can view copies online.
If you have been following the CHDS blog for the past few years you will have seen some of our content relating to the digitisation of the Charles Lyell Collection held by the University of Edinburgh (links to some of our past blogs can be found here and here). This collection is made up of material belonging to the Geologist, Sir Charles Lyell (1797-1875) and contains geological specimens, around 300 notebooks, correspondence, and other papers relating to his work. Read More
The UK Government Copyright and Artificial Intelligence Consultation ended on Tuesday, 25th February 2025. The consultation was initiated due to ongoing disputes regarding the application of UK copyright law to the training of AI models. Rights holders are struggling to control the use of their works in AI training and seek remuneration, while AI developers face legal uncertainty, which is undermining investment in and adoption of AI technology in the UK.
This uncertainty cannot continue, as it risks limiting investment, innovation, and growth in the AI sector, while also preventing creative industries from effectively exercising their rights.
The consultation examined the following options:
The UK Government supported Option 3, arguing that it strikes a balance between AI development and copyright protections by allowing rights holders to opt out while ensuring greater transparency. Respondents were asked 47 further questions to determine whether they agreed with this choice and why.
None of the options presented sufficiently address the complexities of text and data mining (TDM) and AI training.
A crucial oversight in this consultation is the failure to distinguish between AI training on academic research and AI training on commercial creative works. AI trained on high-quality, publicly funded academic research has the potential to drive breakthroughs in medicine, science, and technology – yet the consultation treats all copyrighted material as though it were the same.
Academic research is supported by public organizations and charities such as UK Research and Innovation, the European Research Council, or Horizon Europe, Wellcome Trust, Cancer Research UK, the Royal Society, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, the Carnegie Corporation of New York (to name only a few). These funders, whether public or private, measure their success by the number of lives improved by the research they support. However, if this research is held behind a paywall and made available only to those who can afford to pay, these benefits are significantly diminished.
Allowing free TDM and AI training on academic research and research data for all would stimulate innovation and create a level playing field for small, medium, and large companies, ultimately encouraging investment in the UK. This type of AI use has the potential to accelerate discoveries in medicine, such as cures for cancer and Alzheimer’s, and to address other pressing societal challenges.
While I am not deeply familiar with the concerns of the ‘creative industries’ (film, music, and commercial publishing), I recognize that AI’s impact on these sectors raises valid concerns. Unlike academic research, unrestricted TDM and AI training on creative works could lead to widespread infringement and deepfakes on an unprecedented scale. Such developments would likely be driven by social media vanity and financial exploitation, exacerbating the already overwhelming volume of low-quality, misleading content online.
This misuse of AI would further fuel the ‘doom scrolling’ addiction and degrade the integrity of digital spaces, serving as a clear example of AI being used irresponsibly.
AI is (still) a tool—it is up to individuals and policymakers to ensure it is used for the right purposes rather than the wrong ones.
A more effective approach would be to introduce a specific exception for AI training on publicly funded academic research, ensuring that its benefits remain widely accessible while protecting creative industries from potential harm. This would be a powerful example of AI and TDM being used for the good of society, fostering innovation while maintaining fairness in access to knowledge.
While Option 3 suggested by the government would align the UK with the EU, making a clear distinction between academic and commercial works would provide the competitive advantage the government seeks.
By implementing these measures, the UK can position itself as a leader in ethical AI development, balancing the interests of researchers, AI developers, and rights holders while maximizing AI’s societal benefits.
This post explores the family dynamics of Esther Inglis and their impact on her work. It is written by Jaycee Streeter, Outreach and Communications Intern for the Esther Inglis Project. Jaycee is an MSc History student at the University of Edinburgh with an interest in public history and engagement, as well as Early Modern religious history. This post is written with reference to original research by Jamie Reid-Baxter and Anna-Nadine Pike.
Esther Inglis (c. 1570-1624) is best known for her calligraphy skills and her role as a scribe. She was a pious Protestant woman, and many of her manuscripts are devotional texts, such as bible verses, psalms, or other religious verse, which were made to be gifts for others. While her religious devotion is a central theme of her works, her family relationships—shaped by her roles as a daughter, a wife, and a mother—deeply influenced her artistry. Her works hold clues to the kinds of relationships she had with her closest family members. This post will look at some of the references to her family in her manuscripts, and discuss the impact her family had on her work.
Esther Inglis was the daughter of two French Huguenot refugees, Nicolas Langlois and Marie Presot. To escape religious persecution in France, the family fled to neighbouring England before moving up to Edinburgh. There, Nicolas became the master of a French school and Esther began to learn the art of calligraphy.
The first manuscript we know that Esther wrote dates to 1586, when she was sixteen years old. It is evident that her parents were an essential factor in guiding and instructing their daughter to develop her skill. In a manuscript titled, “Livret traittant de la grandeur de Dieu…” (‘Booklet dealing with the greatest of God…’) in which Esther was experimenting with forms of calligraphy and print imitation, there is a reference to her parents, reading:
“Filia me scripsit mandante utroque parente, desidiae calamo taedia discutiens.”
“The daughter wrote me, at the command of both parents, dispelling the tedium of idleness with the pen.”
LA.iii.440, University of Edinburgh Library.
Esther’s obedience to her parents is evidence that she had early encouragement from them to hone this extraordinary skill. Though she did learn forms of writing from ‘writing manuals’, instruction books which gave direction on different type-forms of calligraphy, Esther’s primary teacher was undoubtedly her mother. Marie Presot was a calligrapher herself, with beautiful penmanship, and was known to give manuscripts as gifts. Only one piece of her writing survives, a letter of thanks from Nicolas Langlois to David Lindsay, who helped the family settle in Edinburgh, which Nicolas credited his wife for writing. In his voice but through her pen, they wrote:
“Tale tibi munus quaeris cur scripserit uxor?
Virtutis fulsit splendida fama tuae.
Exiguum esto, tamen rarum est, quia foemina scripsit.
Quem nisi rarum hominem munera rara decent?”
“You ask why my wife wrote you such a gift?
Report of your goodness has shone bright.
Small though the gift be, it is nonetheless a rare one, because a woman wrote it.
Whom but a rare man do rare gifts befit?”
Another thing Esther may have learned from her mother was to sign her name on work produced by her. In the letter to David Lindsay, Marie made sure to finish her letter with the words: Marie Presot Françoise escrivoit à EDIMBVRGH le 24. d’Aoust. 1574. Esther would go on to include her signature in nearly all of her manuscripts, and eventually even added miniature portraits of herself to them.
VAULT Wing MS folio ZW 543 .P922, Newberry Library.
It is worth acknowledging, or at least wondering about, the extent to which Esther might have been an overachiever in her practice. At the time, a woman of her age and status would not have been expected to be able to write to this standard– or anything approaching this standard. Though clearly prompted by her parents, the amount of advanced calligraphy techniques and styles Esther practiced, such as zigzagging letters, or letters with a rope running through them, is extraordinary. These techniques are beyond the scope of what her mother was capable of, as far as we know. It is fun to imagine Esther simply showing off by executing as many curious fonts as possible, just to show that she is capable.
Esther would have lived with her parents until she was married around 1596. Her husband, a Scotsman named Bartilmo Kello (c. 1564-1631), was part of the spy network adjacent to Anthony Bacon and later worked for the Church. The couple, though not noble, was involved with the royal court of King James VI and an extensive network of scholars, authors, Reformers, and other scribes around Edinburgh, which is the focus of the Rewriting the Script Exhibition. Many of Esther’s manuscripts were given as gifts to those in their circle, including the royal family, probably as a means of gaining political favour from them that would then help Bartilmo’s career. Esther also hoped that she would receive patronage from her recipients, which would come with a monetary reward.
One example of their collaboration is a manuscript dedicated to Sir David Murray, dated 1608. When James VI ascended to the English throne, the family followed him and his court to London, where they lived for about a decade. There, Bartilmo secured the position as a rector of the parish of Willingale Spain in Essex, likely thanks to the help of this manuscript’s dedicatee. The manuscript, “A Treatise of Preparation to the Holy Supper and of our only Saviour and Redeemer Jesus Christ,” is a French text translated into English by Bartilmo, as indicated in the title page and preface, and then scribed by Esther to look like printed text.
La.III.75, University of Edinburgh Library.
Several of Esther’s manuscripts were created explicitly at her husband’s request to present to figures in their lives. The stunning “Octonaries upon the vanitie and inconstancie of the world” (1607) was a gift to their landlord, indicating he must have been a good one. In the preface she indicates her husband’s influence, writing:
“I have at the desyre of my husband prepaired this most singular work
of my pen and pensell for recreation of your mynd.”
V.a.92, Folger Shakespeare Library.
Bartilmo even acted as a courier for his wife on many occasions, delivering her work to their intended recipients. An example of this early in their marriage is the journey that Bartilmo took to London to deliver one of Esther’s manuscripts to Queen Elizabeth I. There, he anxiously awaited a reward from the queen in exchange for his wife’s work.
His efforts are noted by Esther in “Argumenta in librum Psalmorum” (1606), when she writes (originally in French, but translated here):
“Whatever it may be, it is devoted to your Lordship, humbly beseeching you
to graciously accept what I have formed and dedicated expressly,
and I send it to you with all reverence by the hand of my husband,
hoping that it will bring you some enjoyment.”
MS Typ 212, Houghton Library, Harvard University.
Their partnership is in many ways reflective of her parents’ collaboration in the Lindsay letter. Esther turned Bartilmo’s words into beautiful calligraphy to serve as gifts, in the process leaving behind traces of herself in both words and signature. In the manuscript “Les Proverbes du Roy Salomon” (1601), given as a gift to Henri du Rohan, the godfather of Prince Charles, the verses are followed by the phrase, “Hec scripsit coniunx dulci dictante marito” (‘The wife wrote this, with her sweet husband dictating’).
MS Français 14849, Bibliothèque nationale de France.
The endearment used gives an intimate glimpse into her relationship with Bartilmo, and the partnership they built. The support they lent one another should not be understated, and without each other, neither would have risen to the level of social and political prominence that they did. It is also important to emphasise that although Esther—perhaps strategically—included her husband’s voice in her manuscripts, she retained agency over every creative aspect of the gifts she made.
Bartilmo Kello and Esther Inglis created a large family, having eight children. Half of them were born in Edinburgh, the other half in London after the family moved there in 1604. Their family tree can be found here. Perhaps now it is important to note that all of her children bear the last name of their father, Kello. Although it was traditional for Scottish women to keep their last name after marriage in this period, hence why Esther is never referred to as “Esther Kello”, all children assumed their father’s family name.
Unfortunately, not all of Esther’s children survived to adulthood. While the family was living in Essex in 1614, two of her sons, Joseph and Isaac, aged thirteen and nine, passed away from an illness. St. Andrew’s, the parish church that Bartilmo Kello preached as a minister, still bears two memorials for the boys that contain short epitaphs. The poems are similar to other of Esther’s short poetry, and it is possible that Esther herself wrote her sons’ tributes, showing her love and devotion to her children. They read:
This happy child adorned with gifts of grace
His choice was dissolution.
To sing with Simeon, to depart in peace,
Unto Christs heavenly mansion.
…
This godly child knew his originall,
And though right young did scorne base cells of earth.
His soule doth flourish in Heavens glistering hall
Because it is a divine plant by birth.
Shortly following the death of her sons, the family returned to Edinburgh in the summer of 1615. That fall, her oldest son, Samuel, left home to attend university. With him Esther sent her smallest known manuscript, measuring five by three centimetres, dedicated “to my well-loved sonne”. She even wrote him an affectionate verse, which reads:
My l[oving] sone [your ] resoluti[oun]
Your godly [pur]pose and you[r] full intent
When[…]I did reed [the te]ares my [face] ran doun
[Such] was my ioy [su]ch was my hearts content.
Deare blessed child, who is so stayd and bent
To feare the Lord in this your pilgrims race
Gods sacred LAW to you I haue heere sent
The full sowme: read oft; Lord incres yr grace.
MS Typ 49, folio 2r , Houghton Library, Harvard University.
More is known about Samuel than any of Esther’s other children, as we have this record of him, and the only surviving personal letter of Esther’s that is known is regarding Samuel. The letter is addressed to none other than King James VI/I, who she had a personal connection to, and asked the favour of recommending her oldest son to ‘sum fellowship either in Cambridge or Oxefoord as occasion shall fall out’. Just as Esther once leveraged her political connections to garner favour for her husband, she then extended the same care and consideration for her son. Here we get a glimpse of a mother willing to do anything to secure her child’s lot in life.
MS 33.1.6, Vol. 20, no. 21 , National Library of Scotland.
Because Esther learned the art of calligraphy from her own mother, Marie, it is natural to wonder if she extended the same lessons to any of her own children. The short answer: it is unknown. The only handwriting sample we have of one of her children is from Samuel, who although not illegible, shows no great aptitude for artistry. Because the calligraphical skill was passed down through the female line in Esther’s experience, it is not impossible to think that one of Esther’s daughters took up the skill, but there is no evidence of that as of now. Regardless, Esther clearly had great love for her children and was invested in their success.
Although Esther is often put her religious and political context, this look at her familial life shows that her intimate family relations were a driving force in her work and life. The deep connections she had with each generation of her family, from her parents to husband to children, give us the picture of a woman who loved and valued those closest to her, and that they inspired and encouraged her in return. Her manuscripts are more than just extraordinary examples of calligraphy—they are intimate artifacts of a life deeply intwined with family, faith, and creativity.
In February we celebrate LGBT+ History Month 2025 in the UK and this year the theme is ‘Activism and Social Change’. Throughout history and across the globe LGBT+ activists have fueled social change, advancing society for the benefit of all.
To help you discover more we’ve pulled together just a small selection of Library resources that will allow you to start to find out more about activism and social change in LGBT+ history, herstory, theirstory.
1) Books (we are a library after all!)
2) Digital archives and primary sources
3) LGBT collections at Lothian Health Services Archive
4) Dissertation & Thesis Festival Discovery Day : Exploring LGBTQ+ History
The International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission (IGLHRC) was founded in 1990 as the first NGO devoted to advancing LGBT human rights worldwide. Transnational LGBT Activism : Working for Sexual Rights Worldwide asks how is that mission translated into practice? And what do transnational LGBT human rights advocates do on a day-to-day basis and for whom? Arguing that the idea of LGBT human rights is not predetermined but instead is defined by international activists who establish what and who qualifies for protection. Read More