woman in the native poetry of the Persians. No poetry of the East has
been so generally admired, translated, and read as the Persian. In it
woman finds a large place. And yet, it cannot be said that she is
presented always in the light of the brightest ideals of virtuous
womanhood.
The Persian poet Hafiz is said once to have been asked by the
philosopher Zenda what he was good for, and he replied: "Of what use is
a flower?" "A flower is good to smell," said the philosopher. "And I am
good to smell it," said the poet. Too often woman is shown as the
plaything of man's passion and fancy. Yet the virtue of heroic womanhood
in the early days is presented with great force and beauty.
The Persian poets, in the treatment of love, leave little place for
reflection, still less for practical considerations. It is spontaneous
love, "love at first sight," which they deem alone worthy of their song.
"Love at first sight and of the most enthusiastic kind is the passion
described in all Persian poems, as if a whole life of love were
condensed into one moment. It is all wild and rapturous; it has nothing
of the rational cast. A casual glance from an unknown beauty often
affords the subject of a poem." These words well sum up the Persian
poets' most common attitude toward love and the female graces. The
following lines written concerning the beauty of the daughter of Gureng
King of Zabulistan, are typical:
"So graceful in her movements and so sweet,
Her very look plucked from the breast of age
The root of sorrow;--her wine-sipping lips
And mouth like sugar, cheeks all dimpled over
With smiles and glowing as the summer rose--
Won every heart."
These words, too, were said of a damsel who had won fame as a warrior in
her father's army, and her skill, valor, and judgment had made enemies
fall at her feet. Indeed, one of the most romantic portions of the
_Shahnamah_ of Firdausi are the passages describing the meeting of the
gallant King Jamshid with the beautiful daughter of Gureng, whose father
had given her permission to marry, provided only it should be
spontaneous love which should guide her in the choice:
"It must be love and love alone
That binds thee to another's throne,
In this thy father has no voice--
Thine the election, thine the choice."
One day, as by chance, the handsome young King Jamshid arrived at the
city, a fatigued stranger, and was not permitted by the keepers to pass
through King Gureng's rose garden. Weary, Jamshid sat down at the gate,
under a shade tree. The damsel sees him, and at once falls in love with
his manly form and demeanor. She brings him wine, by which he may be
refreshed, and pours out her tender soul to him. Presently a dove and
his cooing mate alight upon a bough above their heads. The damsel asks
which of the birds her bow and arrow must bring to the ground. Jamshid
replies: "Where a man is, a woman's aid is not required; give me the
bow."
"However brave a woman may appear,
Whatever strength of arms she may possess,
She is but half a man."
Blushing, the girl gives over the weapon, and Jamshid says: "Now for the
wager. If I hit the female, shall the lady whom I most admire in this
company be mine?" The damsel, her heart bounding with throbs of love,
assents. Jamshid drew the string and struck the female bird so skilfully
that both wings were transfixed with the body. The male bird flew away,
but presently returned and perched itself again upon the bough as if
unwilling to leave its stricken mate. The damsel grasped the bow and
arrow, and said: "The male bird has returned to his former place; if my
aim be successful shall the man whom I choose in this company be my
husband?"
Just then the aged nurse of the princess appears, and recognizes in King
Jamshid him whom the oracles had predicted would be the young girl's
spouse.
"... happy tidings, blissful to her heart,
Increased the ardor of her love for him."
They are married. And the story of her father's displeasure and of his
treachery toward Jamshid, the latter's betrayal and death, the young
wife's inconsolable grief and sad self-slaughter move before the reader
in a most thrilling fashion. This Persian poem, setting forth the
romantic side of female character, is one of the greatest pieces of
literature ever written.
The Persian romances delight in making the women do most of the loving
and the courting. The heroines are the first to feel passion and the
most rapturous in expressing it. They, however, like Saiawush in the
_Shahnamah_, are fond of coyness until they have determined to yield to
the force of love. But when the love of a Persian woman has once gone
out, the Persian poets usually depict it as strong and steadfast to the
end. It speaks like that of Manijeh, the unfortunate Byzun:
"Can I be faithless then to thee,
The choice of this fond heart of mine,
Why sought I bonds when I was free,
But to be thine, forever thine?"
Even the best poets, such as Firdausi, who was called the "poet of
Paradise," Persia's great national poet, often present woman's charms in
lines highly overdrawn. Such these are concerning the Princess Rudabah:
"Screened from public view
Her countenance is brilliant as the sun;
From head to foot her lovely form is fair
As polished ivory. Like the spring, her cheek
Presents a radiant bloom--in stature tall,
And o'er her silvery brightness, richly flow
Dark musky ringlets clustering to her feet."
Khakani, considered the most learned of Persia's lyric poets, wrote some
beautiful verses in which womanly charms find place. Such is his poem
_The Unknown Beauty_, in which occur the lines:
"I saw thy form of waving grace!
I heard thy soft and gentle sighs;
I gazed on that enchanting face,
And looked in thy narcissus eyes;
Oh! by the hopes thy smiles allowed,
Bright soul-inspirer, who art thou?"
The great price placed upon womanly beauty is clearly discerned in such
writers as Sadi, who died about A. D. 1292. In his _Gulistan_, or "Rose
Garden," he tells the story of a doctor of laws who had a daughter. She
was so extremely ugly that she reached the age of womanhood long before
anyone wished her in marriage, although her fortune and dowry were
large--for "Damask or brocade but add to deformity, when put upon a
bride void of symmetry," says Sadi. Finally, to avoid perpetual
maidenhood, the girl was given in wedlock to a blind man. Very soon a
physician who could restore sight to the blind happened to come that
way. "Why do you not get him to prescribe for your son-in-law?" the
father was asked. "Because," said he, "I am afraid he may recover his
sight and repudiate my daughter--for the husband of an ugly woman ought
to be blind."
Few poets have written more of love and womanly grace than did Hafiz,
who died in A. D. 1388. In the _Diwan_, which has been compared to a
story of pearls, Hafiz says:
"To me love's echo is the sweetest sound
Of all that 'neath the circling round
Hath staved."
A story is told of Hafiz and Tamerlane, which is doubtless apocryphal.
Coming upon the poet one day, Tamerlane said: "Art thou not the insolent
versemonger who didst offer my two great cities Samarkand and Bokhara
for the black mole upon thy lady's cheek?" "It is true," replied Hafiz,
with much calmness; "and indeed, my munificence has been so great
throughout my life that it has left me destitute; so, hereafter I shall
be dependent on thy generosity for a livelihood." This apt reply of
Hafiz is said to have so pleased the conqueror that he sent the poet
away with a present.
It may be said, as a rule, that the Persian poets emphasize almost
exclusively woman's physical charms. "Women, wine, and song" are, in
truth, the chief burden of the poems. The sensuous side of love is most
frequently disclosed. There are, however, some exceptions to this
general rule, as may be discovered in passages from the writings of
Jami. While it is the beauty of the unmarried woman which most
frequently and most naturally holds place in Persian song, yet the
married life is not forgotten. Firdausi, in his account of the beautiful
Rudabah, says of wedlock:
"For marriage is a contract sealed by Heaven--
How happy is the warrior's lot amidst
His smiling children."
And Firdausi makes Kitabun say:
"A mother's counsel is a golden treasure."
Examples of the recognition of love that is deep and full of meaning are
not wanting among the Persian poets.
Nizami, Persia's first great romantic poet, who lived in the twelfth
century of our era, wrote nothing better than his romance of Bedouin
love, the story of Laili and Majnun, which has been happily termed the
_Romeo and Juliet_ of the East. "France," says a recent writer, "has its
Abelard and Eloise, Italy its Petrarch and Laura, Persia and Arabia have
their pure pathetic romance." Many see in the story of Laili and Majnun
an allegorical or spiritual interpretation. At least, it illustrates the
stress which the Persian poets put upon a true, undying devotion, and
the Orientals consider it the very personification of faithful love.
The higher ideals are often found in the dramatic literature. Many
consider Jami's celebrated _Yusuf and Zulaikha_, a dramatic poem
modelled after Firdausi, to be the finest poem in the Persian language.
Sir William Jones pronounces it "the finest poem he ever read." It gives
account of Yusuf--the Israelite Joseph--and Zulaikha, Potiphar's wife.
In this is disclosed how the human soul attains the love for the highest
beauty and goodness only when it has suffered and has been thoroughly
regenerated, purified, as was the life of Zulaikha. The poet, seeing the
emptiness of mere beauty, reaches the inevitable conclusion that
"He who gives his heart to a lovely form
May look for no rest--but a life of storm
If the gold of union be still his quest,
With fond vain dream, love deludes his breast."
The _Dabistan_ was first brought to public notice by that enthusiastic
Orientalist of more than a century ago--Sir William Jones. In it there
is a dissertation on the "Hundred Gates of Paradise," in which occur
directions for entering the place of blessedness. Sons and daughters are
to be given in early marriage. Milk must be given to a child as soon as
the mother gives it birth. Directions are given to women in sickness and
in childbearing. Implicit obedience to husbands is strictly enjoined,
and warning is carefully given against the woman of unchaste life.
The Zend-Avesta, as well as the great body of Persian poetry, has
preserved much of the ancient life and flavor of Iran. There is scarcely
any feature in the literature of the religion of Zoroaster, which holds
a more emphatic place than that which enjoins purity of life. Domestic
virtues are accorded high place in these teachings. Says the
Zend-Avesta: "Purity is the best of all things; purity is the fairest of
all things, even as thou hast said, O righteous Zarathushtra,--Purity
is, next to life, the greatest good." Zoroaster inquires of Ormuzd which
is the second best place, when earth feels most happy? To which Ormuzd
makes reply: "It is the place whereon one of the faithful erects a house
with a priest within, with cattle, with a wife and with children and
good herds within, and wherein afterward the cattle continue to thrive,
virtue to thrive, fodder to thrive, the dog to thrive, the wife to
thrive, the child to thrive, the fire to thrive, and every blessing of
life to thrive."
IX
THE WOMEN OF ARABIA
Woman's conservatism has already been referred to in these pages. There
is probably no people in the world, certainly no branch of the widely
scattered Semitic family, among whom ancient ideals and customs have
been more persistent than among the Arabians. Indeed, Arabia occupies a
unique position in the world's history. From her territory there
probably went out the different branches of the Semitic people, a part
of the human family which is second to none in its influence upon the
course of history. For one of its branches, the Assyro-Babylonian,
probably developed the earliest civilization which has come down to us;
another was the most powerful of all ancient faiths, the Hebrew, while
two other historic religions, the Christian and the Mohammedan, had
their origin in Semitic soil.
Arabia is truly a land of mystery; but for this very reason the
interest in her people is yet the keener. She has but few ancient
monuments written upon tablets of stone and hardened clay--in palaces
and ancient temples--as have Egypt and Assyria. Her records are in
legend, story, tradition, and the persistent customs of her people. With
the exception of the influence of the birth and the death of a culture
which awakened the world and helped to scatter the Dark Ages, and of the
rise of Mohammed, there have been few changes in this remarkable land.
Two forces stand out as most potential in the shaping of the Arab
woman's character. These may be summed up in the words, the desert and
the cult; the latter being in some sense the product of the former. To
these may possibly be added a third. That is the war spirit, without
which the lord as well as the lady of the Arabian peninsula would have
written out for themselves a far different, and perhaps a far less
romantic history. For there were those who, even like Khaled, spurn the
love of a noble maiden from his "pride of the passion of war." Even love
making, which holds an important place in Arabic literature, gives way
to what was regarded as the noblest of all occupations, the making of
war.
Womanhood, in the so-called "time of ignorance,"--the days before Islam
wrought so marked a change in the life of Arabia,--enjoyed a freedom and
strength which spoke of the open air and the far-stretching plains. As
she followed the fortunes of her nomad chief, the woman was indelibly
writing her history. It is in religious ideals too that woman must
always find the key to her standing and influence among any people.
Among the early Arabs the female idea held no small place in their
religious beliefs and practices, and this is true of the early Semites
generally. This is specially noteworthy, however, as Robertson Smith has
pointed out, in the olden Arabic cult. Gods and goddesses went in pairs,
and the goddess was usually the more important divinity. The jinn, which
held so conspicuous a place, were regarded as feminine. In the Minaean
pantheon, Wadd and Nikrah, "Love" and "Hate," female divinities, played
an important role in the religious life of this branch of the Arabic
people. Wherever the female divinity is prominent, woman enjoys
considerable privilege and influence in religion, and this was true in
ancient Arabia.
The people believed in an inferior order of divine beings--emanations,
secondary spirits--compared to angels by some Mussulman writers. These
beings were of the female sex and known as _Benat Allah_ (daughters of
Allah). Mohammed in the Koran, however, strongly condemned this earlier
belief as not consonant with the unity of God, which is a doctrine so
emphatically preached in the religion of Islam. Each tribe not only had
its _Kahin_, or "diviner" (Hebrew, _Kohen_, "priest"), but its _Arrafa_,
or "sorceress."
Woman's sphere in the olden days of Arabia was no mean one. Arabic women
have from time immemorial shown themselves, on occasion, to possess a
courage and hardihood unsurpassed in history. Arabia has had her
Amazons. In prehistoric times, armed heroines of invincible bravery have
left their record in the myths of this ancient people. And in the days
of authentic history, women have fought valiantly to advance the cause
for which their husbands and brothers waged war so fiercely.
The high place held by women in the ancient wars of Araby still survives
in the thrilling custom of having some courageous woman accompany an
Arab force into the battle. The maiden is mounted upon the back of a
blackened camel, and placed in the front of the line as it makes its
onslaught upon the enemy. As the fighting men press forward to the
battle she sings verses of encouragement to her compatriots, and insults
are flung from her lips against the opposing force. It is around this
young woman and her camel that the fiercest battle rages. Should she be
so unfortunate as to be killed or captured, the calamity is unspeakable
and the rout utter. But should her friends be victorious, it is she who
heads the triumphal march.
As we might expect, the spirit of chivalry is not lacking in Arabic
song and story. In the romance of _Antar_, the story of the hero's love
for Ibla, "fair as the full moon," and the account of her rescue,
breathe the spirit of genuine romance. Antar does not hesitate to strike
down the man who has "failed in respect to Arab women." The _Arabian
Nights_, though in less degree, has also preserved to us evidences of
ancient chivalry and romance.
Hagar, of whose sad life the Hebrew narratives give us record, though
herself called an Egyptian woman, became ancestress of an Arab clan and
plays some part in Arabian tradition. She was the ancestress of the
restless, roving Ishmaelites--a typical Arabian tribe. Mohammed, in
explaining the preservation of an ancient idolatrous custom of visiting
in religious pilgrimages the hills of Safa and Marwa, where once were
worshipped two idols, one representing a man and the other a woman,
says, in the Koran, that it was between these two eminences that Hagar
wandered, distracted, running from one to the other, till the angel
showed her the miraculous spring which saved her boy's life.
Indeed, the Arab legend says that when Hagar and Ishmael were driven
from Abraham's tent at Sarah's behest, she was conducted far into the
desert, at the place where Mecca now stands. When her provisions are
exhausted, laying the boy down, she runs to and fro in despair. In his
thirst and suffering, Ishmael strikes his head against the earth, and a
spring of sparkling water gushes out. Some members of an Arab tribe,
thirsty, and seeking their lost camels, come, guided by birds, to the
spot, seeking to quench their thirst. Never having known water to spring
in that locality before, they received Hagar and Ishmael with especial
reverence, and bade them take up their permanent abode with them, lest
because of their departure the spring might dry up. To Ishmael was given
in marriage one of their maidens, Amara, daughter of Said. This is but
one of the many instances of the overlapping of Hebraic and Arabic
legends.
Many are the stories told by the Arabs concerning the famous Queen of
Sheba, who herself was an Arabian woman. She belonged to that southern
branch of the family known as the Sabeans. Her fame has gone into many
legends, both Arabic and Hebrew. Her visit to King Solomon of Israel
furnishes the basis of most of these. As a lover of wisdom, or the
philosophy of practical life, she was drawn to the ruler of the Hebrews,
whose reputation had extended far and wide. Solomon proved especially
successful in answering her favorite riddles and in untying for her the
most knotty questions. Among the many Talmudic legends is this
interesting one. The queen took groups of small boys and girls, dressed
them precisely alike, and demanded of Solomon that he distinguish the
boys from the girls. The king commanded that they all wash their hands.
The boys washed only to the wrists; the girls rolled up their sleeves
and bathed to their elbows. Thus the secret was disclosed. The
Mohammedan legends concerning this remarkable queen are full and minute.
Having with her own hand slain the reigning king, she herself, being of
royal lineage, was proclaimed queen, and "protectress of her sex." She
reigned with great wisdom and prudence, and administered justice
throughout her kingdom. According to these Arabian legends, the Queen of
Sheba, who was called Balkis, became one of Solomon's wives, though he
allowed her to continue her beneficent reign over her own people.
The women of old Arabia, the dames of the desert, were comparatively
free, as their open-air life would naturally suggest. The Arabian poets,
in drawing the ancient life, so portray it. In the romance of _Antar_,
already mentioned, are found many delightful episodes, in which the
woman appears as the loving friend, partner, and counsellor of her
husband. These carry us back to the heroic age of Arabia. The custom
which permitted infanticide in case of female children seems in marked
contrast with the high place of woman in early Arabic literature. This
cruel custom is the motive of one of the most attractive of the early
romances, that of _Khaled and Djaida_. The latter, when a babe, that she
might not be known as a girl, was called by her mother by the name
Djonder, and given a prolonged feast such as is accorded only to boys at
their birth. About the same time, the chief of the tribe--and uncle to
Djonder--had born to him a son, who was called Khaled. The cousins grew
up, both learned in the arts of war, and both made for themselves names
for their high courage. Djonder was taught to ride and to fight, as
though she were a man, and the very name of Djonder became a terror to
his foes. Khaled heard of his cousin's exploits and rushed to see him,
that he might witness his skill at arms. But his father, being at enmity
with Zahir, his own brother and father of Djonder, would not permit
Khaled to know Djonder. At length the desire of Khaled was realized. He
was strangely enamored of his cousin, whom, however, he thought to be a
young man like himself. Djonder, too, fell desperately in love with the
valiant Khaled. The latter chooses the field and war instead of love,
however, and leaves Djonder in tears. Later, by the fortunes of war,
they meet on the field of battle in single combat. Djonder has so
concealed her identity that Khaled does not know with whom he fights.
After a long contest of marvellous prowess, neither is victor. Djonder
reveals herself. The old love returns. It is Djonder now who resists the
importunity of Khaled's love. After testing him by several difficult and
dangerous exploits, she becomes his wife.
Of music and poetry the Arabs from the most ancient days have been
passionately fond. The nomad life tends to develop both poetry and song.
The most ancient bards in all lands were wanderers. David, "the sweet
singer of Israel," was a shepherd lad. Hesiod heard the call of the
Muses while leading his flock at Mount Helicon. Caedmon, England's
earliest poet, was watching his herd when the call came to sing. The
Arab bard sings freely of his camel, the antelope, the wild ass, the
gazelle, of his sword, his bow and arrows, of wine, and, above all, of
his ladylove.
In the famous literary collection known as the _Muallakat_, made by
Hammad about A. D. 777, seven of the best poems of the early Arabs are
brought together. Those that most fitly set forth the love of woman are
the poems of Imr-al-kais and Antar. Sa'id ibn Judi, the true
representative of Arabian knighthood, must not be forgotten as the poet
most loved by the fair sex. The flavor of these lyrics may be discovered
in the brief poem of Antar upon _A Fair Lady_, "whose glittering pearls
and ruby lips enslaved the poet's heart:
"Such an odor from her breath
Comes toward me, harbinger of her approach;
Or like an untouched meadow, where the rain
Hath fallen freshly on the fragrant herbs
That carpet all its pure untrodden soil."