Muhammad Khaznadar (1840–1929) was an early archaeologist in Ottoman Tunisia. He was the eldest son of Mustapha Khaznadar, a prominent Prime Minister of Tunisia who served from 1855 until 1873.[1]

Khaznadar was the first Tunisian to propose the founding of a museum, located in the Bardo Palace in the town of Manouba just outside Tunis.[2] His collection was to form the kernel of the Bardo National Museum. Khaznadar's work also influenced the development of cultural policies in Tunisia in the years leading up to the establishment of the French protectorate in 1881.[3]

As a native North African at the forefront of archeology during the time of European colonialism, he has been compared to the Ottoman Osman Hamdi Bey and the Egyptian Rifa'a at-Tahtawi.[4]

Early Life and Education

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Khaznadar was born into a wealthy family tied to the Tunisian ruling elite. His father, Mustapha Khaznadar, originally from the Greek island of Chios, had risen to become a leading figure in the Tunisian court. Muhammad received an education in Paris, where he was exposed to European culture, history, and archaeology.[5]

Archaeological Work and Collecting Antiquities

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After returning to Tunisia in 1865, Khaznadar became involved in the exploration and collection of antiquities. He was the first Tunisian to conduct modern archaeological excavations at Carthage, starting in 1866. His efforts led to the formation of a significant collection of antiquities, including Roman and Punic inscriptions, mosaics, and sculptures.[6]

Khaznadar established connections with European scholars and institutions. He communicated his discoveries to the Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres in Paris. However, his growing collection also led to tensions with foreign archaeologists and the French colonial authorities.[7]

The Founding of the Bardo Museum

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One of Muhammad Khaznadar's key achievements was his role in the founding of what would later become the Bardo National Museum. In 1866, he proposed the creation of a museum to house Tunisia's antiquities, to be located at the Bardo Palace, the residence of the Tunisian bey.[8]

The collection that Khaznadar amassed, including the Bacchus statue and other significant artifacts, formed the core of the museum's early holdings.[9]

German traveller Heinrich von Maltzan described the excitement that had developed around the museum in the late 1860s, describing that it: "in its specialty, Phoenician and Carthaginian antiquities, surpassed every other museum in the world":

The greatest of all, the all-powerful first minister, Sidi Mustapha Chasnadar. To see this dignitary himself was not the purpose of my visit, of course, nor did I even long to see his palace, but the motive which led me to the house of this great man was merely a scientific interest. The reader may be astonished. A scientific interest in a great man of Tunis! That would certainly be something unheard of. But as unheard of as it was, it was a fact that the eldest son of this minister owned a museum which, in its specialty, Phoenician and Carthaginian antiquities, surpassed every other museum in the world. How this little son of a great father came to display so much civilized spirit, which he is very far from possessing, and to render such an invaluable service to science without knowing it or wanting it, I can only explain by a wonderful act of Providence, which sometimes uses a donkey to carry relics. But, whatever the reason for collecting it, the museum once existed. The fact could not be denied, although I could not find anyone who had seen it. Being seen, which is usually the only purpose of a museum, did not seem to be the intention or plan in this one. It was rather as difficult to access as the walled library of the Patriarch of Alexandria in Egypt. Just as the books in that library, because no one ever sees them, have acquired the mysterious reputation of containing the greatest rarities of pagan and Christian literature, so the inaccessible museum of the minister's boy in Tunis was to gain the fame of being the first in the world because no one came to see its mysterious treasures; and in order to achieve this goal, from time to time some unfortunate Frenchman, who was starving in Tunis, was paid to see an article about this collection in a Paris newspaper, an article full of bombast and praise, which was bound to make all readers all the more curious about the contents of the museum, since it actually gave no information about it. The museum had thus become almost a fable, like the treasure of Kyffhäuser, which every farmer believes in but which no one has ever seen. [10]

References

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  1. ^ Moumni 2020, p. 266.
  2. ^ Moumni 2020, p. 272: "He became the first Tunisian to propose the founding of a museum. At that point, no “public” museum existed in the regency of Tunisia, except for François Bourgade’s collection of antiquities in the enclosure of the Chapel of Saint-Louis in Carthage. Muhammad’s project thus represents a crucial moment in the history of collecting in Tunisia. Notably, the location intended for this museum was not Muhammad’s own house in Carthage, but rather the Bardo Palace, his father’s main residence located in the neighboring town of La Manouba."
  3. ^ Moumni 2020, pp. 278–280.
  4. ^ Moumni 2020, p. 282.
  5. ^ Moumni 2020, pp. 267–269.
  6. ^ Moumni 2020, p. 270.
  7. ^ Moumni 2020, pp. 271–272.
  8. ^ Moumni 2020, p. 273.
  9. ^ Moumni 2020, p. 274.
  10. ^ von Maltzan, Heinrich (1869). Sittenbilder aus Tunis und Algerien (in German). Dyk. p. 98-99. Größten von Allen, des allmächtigen ersten Ministers, Sidi Mustapha Chasnadar, machte. Diesen Würdenträger selbst zu sehen, war nun freilich nicht der Zweck meines Besuches, nicht einmal seinen Palast sehnte ich mich in Augenschein zu nehmen, sondern die Triebfeder, welche mich in das Haus dieses großen Mannes führte, bildete lediglich ein wissenschaftliches Interesse. Der Leser mag staunen. Ein wissenschaftliches Interesse bei einem Großen von Tunis! Das wäre allerdings etwas Unerhörtes. Aber so unerhört, so war es doch Thatsache, daß der älteste Sohn dieses Ministers ein Museum besaß, welches in seiner Specialität, den phönicischen und karthagischen Alterthümern, jedes andere Museum der Welt übertraf. Wie dieser kleine Sohn eines großen Vaters dazu gekommen ist so viel civilisirten Geist, den er sehr weit entfernt ist zu besitzen, dem äußern Anschein nach an den Tag zu legen und, ohne es zu wissen oder zu wollen, der Wissenschaft einen so unschäzbaren Dienst zu leisten, das kann ich mir nur durch eine wunderbare Schickung der Vorsehung erklären, welche sich ja manchmal auch eines Esels zum Tragen von Reliquien bedient. Aber, aus was für einem Grunde auch immer es gesammelt wurde, das Museum war einmal vorhanden. Die Thatsache konnte nicht in Abrede gestellt werden, obgleich ich keinen Menschen zu finden vermochte, der es gesehen hätte. Das Gesehenwerden, was doch sonst der einzige Zweck bei einem Museum zu sein pflegt, schien nämlich bei diesem durchaus nicht beabsichtigt und in Anschlag gebracht. Es war vielmehr so schwer zugänglich, wie die vermauerte Bibliothek des Patriarchen von Alexandrien in Aegypten. Wie die Bücher jener Bibliothek dadurch, daß sie nie ein Mensch zu Gesicht bekommt, in den mysteriösen Ruf gekommen sind, die größten Seltenheiten der heidnischen und christlichen Literatur zu enthalten, so sollte auch das unzugängliche Museum des Ministerjungen von Tunis dadurch, daß Niemand seine geheimnißvollen Schäze in Augenschein nahm, den Ruhm erlangen, das erste der Welt zu sein; und damit ja dieser Zweck erfüllt werde, so wurde von Zeit zu Zeit irgend ein verunglückter Franzose, welcher in Tunis am Hungertuch nagte, dafür bezahlt, um einen Artikel über diese Sammlung in eine Pariser Zeitung zu sehen, einen Artikel voll Schwulst und Lobpreisungen, der alle Leser desto mehr auf den Inhalt des Museums gespannt machen mußte, als er eigentlich über dasselbe durchaus keinen Aufschluß gab. Das Museum war also beinahe zur Fabel geworden, wie der Schat des Kyffhäusers, an welchen jeder Bauer glaubt, den aber keiner gesehen hat.

Bibliography

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