Easily the most charming poem of Malayan Literature is the Epic of
Bidasari. It has all the absorbing fascination of a fairy tale. We are
led into the dreamy atmosphere of haunted palace and beauteous
plaisance: we glide in the picturesque imaginings of the oriental poet
from the charm of all that is languorously seductive in nature into the
shadowy realms of the supernatural. At one moment the sturdy bowman or
lithe and agile lancer is before us in hurrying column, and at another
we are told of mystic sentinels from another world, of Djinns and
demons and spirit-princes. All seems shadowy, vague, mysterious,
entrancing.
In this tale there is a wealth of imagery, a luxury of picturesqueness,
together with that straightforward simplicity so alluring in the story-
teller. Not only is our attention so captivated that we seem under a
spell, but our sympathy is invoked and retained. We actually wince
before the cruel blows of the wicked queen. And the hot tears of
Bidasari move us to living pity. In the poetic justice that punishes
the queen and rewards the heroine we take a childish delight. In other
words, the oriental poet is simple, sensuous, passionate, thus
achieving Milton's ideal of poetic excellence. We hope that no
philosopher, philologist, or ethnologist will persist in demonstrating
the sun-myth or any other allegory from this beautiful poem. It is a
story, a charming tale, to while away an idle hour, and nothing more.
All lovers of the simple, the beautiful, the picturesque should say to
such learned peepers and botanizers, "Hands off!" Let no learned
theories rule here. Leave this beautiful tale for artists and lovers of
the story pure and simple. Seek no more moral here than you would in a
rose or a lily or a graceful palm. Light, love, color, beauty,
sympathy, engaging fascination--these may be found alike by philosopher
and winsome youth. The story is no more immoral than a drop of dew or a
lotus bloom; and, as to interest, in the land of the improviser and the
story-teller one is obliged to be interesting. For there the audience
is either spellbound, or quickly fades away and leaves the poet to
realize that he must attempt better things.
We think that these folk-stories have, indeed, a common origin, but
that it is in the human heart. We do not look for a Sigurd or Siegfried
on every page. Imagine a nation springing from an ignorant couple on a
sea-girt isle, in a few generations they would have evolved their
Sleeping Beauty and their Prince Charming, their enchanted castles, and
their Djinns and fairies. These are as indigenous to the human heart as
the cradle-song or the battle-cry. We do not find ourselves siding with
those who would trace everything to a first exemplar. Children have
played, and men have loved, and poets have sung from the beginning, and
we need not run to Asia for the source of everything. Universal human
nature has a certain spontaneity.
The translator has tried to reproduce the faithfulness and, in some
measure, to indicate the graceful phrases of the original poem. The
author of Bidasari is unknown, and the date of the poem is a matter of
the utmost uncertainty. Some have attributed to it a Javanese origin,
but upon very slight evidence. The best authorities place its scene in
the country of Palembang, and its time after the arrival of the
Europeans in the Indian archipelago, but suggest that the legend must
be much older than the poem.
The "Makota Radja-Radja" is one of the most remarkable books of
oriental literature. According to M. Aristide Marre, who translated it
into French, its date is 1603. Its author was Bokhari, and he lived at
Djohore. It contains extracts from more than fifty Arab and Persian
authors. It treats of the duties of man to God, to himself and to
society, and of the obligations of sovereigns, subjects, ministers, and
officers. Examples are taken from the lives of kings in Asia. The
author has not the worst opinion of his work, saying distinctly that it
is a complete guide to happiness in this world and the next. He is
particularly copious in his warnings to copyists and translators,
cautioning them against the slightest negligence or inaccuracy, and
promising them for faithfulness a passport to the glories of heaven.
This shows that the author at least took the work seriously. That there
is not a trace of humor in the book would doubtless recommend it to the
dignified and lethargic orientals for whom it was written. Bokhari
seemed to consider himself prophet, priest, and poet-laureate in one.
The work has a high position in the Malayan Peninsula, where it is read
by young and old. The "Crown of Kings" is written in the court language
of Djohore. The author was a Mohammedan mendicant monk. He called the
book the Crown of Kings because "every king who read and followed its
precepts would be a perfect king, and thus only would his crown sit
well on his head, and the book itself will be for him a true crown."
La Fontaine and Lamartine loved stories. The schoolmates of the latter
called the latter "story-lover." They would have loved the story of the
Princess Djouher Manikam, which is written in a simple and natural
style and is celebrated in the East, or, as the Malays say, in the
"country between windward and leeward."
From the "Sedjaret Malayou," worthless as it is as history, one may
obtain side lights upon oriental life. Manners are portrayed in vivid
colors, so that one may come to have a very accurate knowledge of them.
Customs are depicted from which one may learn of the formality and
regard for precedents which is a perspicuous trait of oriental
character. The rigid etiquette of court and home may be remarked. From
the view of morals here described, one may appreciate how far we have
progressed in ethical culture from that prevailing in former times
among the children of these winterless lands.
The readers of this series are to be congratulated in that they are
here placed in possession of a unique and invaluable source of
information concerning the life and literature of the far-away people
of the Indian archipelago. To these pages an added interest accrues
from the fact that the Philippines are now protected by our flag.
The name Malay signifies a wanderer. As a people they are passionate,
vain, susceptible, and endowed with a reckless bravery and contempt of
death. The Malays have considerable originality in versification. The
pantoum is particularly theirs--a form arising from their habits of
improvisation and competitive versifying. They have also the epic or
_sjair_, generally a pure romance, with much naive simplicity and
natural feeling. And finally, they have the popular song, enigma, and
fable.
And so we leave the reader to his pleasant journey to the lands of
Djinns and Mantris and spells and mystic talismans. He will be
entertained by the chrestomathy of Bokhari; he will be entranced by the
story of the winsome and dainty Bidasari.