form, and all divisions and breaks are carefully indicated. The
foot-notes are both numerous and important, and they should by no means
be lightly passed ever, giving, as they do, much valuable information,
explanatory and illustrative, which the “home student” will profit by.
This great effort will be extensively appreciated, and not a few will
read and learn more than otherwise they would or could have done
respecting those wonderful tribes and nations, among whom still linger
so much of the lore which instructs as well as fascinates, not only
themselves, but the children of the West. We have read considerable
portions of this volume, and compared them with a popular English
edition, and, without hesitation, we say that the style of this is far
better, and the arrangement very much to be preferred. The colloquial
terms and homely phrases, we presume, truly reflect the original, as do
some other unusual forms of expression. Meanwhile, we regard the book
with much satisfaction, and hope it will receive a hearty welcome from
the well-instructed and inquiring reader who seeks wisdom as well as
recreation.
COUNTY GENTLEMAN, _February, 1887_.
Several of the stories now issued are in the form of apalogues or
fables, in which the inferior animals are the chief actors and
interlocutors. Amongst these we may mention, the tales of the Water Fowl
and the Tortoise, the Wolf and the Fox, the Mouse and the Ichneumon, the
Cat and the Crow, the Hedgehog and the Wood Pigeons, and the Sparrow and
the Peacock. There is, of course, here a suggestion or a reminiscence of
Æsop, but the Arabian fabulists take a line of their own. There are
striking differences between the two authors or sets of authors, both in
the narrative form and in the ethical quality of the moral conveyed. And
this difference may, we think, on examination, be traced to national
idiosyncrasy and modes of thought. The fables of the _Arabian Nights_
have less point and conciseness, and less of harmonious subservience of
details to unity of effect and impression than those of great Ethiopian.
On the other hand, they have greater perfection of literary form, far
more splendid imagery, and in some instances more psychological subtlety
in the somewhat long-drawn disquisitive, and, indeed, disputatious
dialogues in which the chief characters indulge. For our own part, we
have found this introduction of the lower animal element an interesting
temporary departure from the comprehensive and elaborate, and, sooth to
say, somewhat monotonous representations of men and their affairs which
form the staple of these gorgeous productions of an ancient Oriental
loom. In the story of the Wolf and the Fox we have an example of the
justification of the lex talionis, which mingles somewhat curiously with
the general exhortations to mercy and forgiveness, founded on the maxims
of the Sacred Books. In our notice of the first volume we made some
inadequate attempt to express our admiration of the virile beauty and
force of Sir Richard Burton’s translation. Only captious critics will
consider that he has strained a point in his use of obsolete words and
phrases, or in his happy invention of new collocations. As these are
invariably conceived and expressed in the spirit of the original Arabic,
they present to our mind the aspect of beauties rather than blemishes,
and indisputably add to the Oriental flavour of this fine translation.
The notes are in themselves a liberal education in respect of Persian
and Arabian manners and customs, old and new.
BAT, _February 8th, 1887_.
The most marvellous collection of stories in the world is for the first
time placed before the English readers. Positively for the first time.
Those who know the Arabian Nights, through the charming, but ludicrously
unoriental, paraphrase of Galland, or through the solid, and perhaps
slightly stolid, rendering of Lane, cannot be said to know the _Arabian
Nights_ at all. It would be indeed a thousand pities if such a book as
Sir Richard has made were to be entirely tabooed to the world at large
and to women. The matchless wealth of fancy of the _Arabian Nights_, the
amazing wealth of knowledge which Sir Richard Burton has accumulated
about it, the glowing virile prose in which these Eastern tales have
been imbued with a new vitality, all these should be the possession, not
of a poor thousand students and scholars, but of all the myriad readers
of books who speak the English speech * * * Now, for the first time, all
that enchanted Eastern world is open to everyone. Jean Paul Richter,
most delightful of German writers, has dwelt, in his great essay on
education, on the importance of Oriental fiction in the education of the
young. It is easy to imagine the delight with which he would have
welcomed the masterpieces of Oriental fancy which have now, for the
first time, been placed within the reach of all who care to read.
The reader passes at once into the most exquisite world of fancy, where
enchanted princesses, caliphs and mock caliphs, wizards, ghouls, jinns,
barmecides, kalandars, sultans, slaves, mullahs, and dancing-girls
jostle one another in a mad merry world of their own, by the yellow Nile
or the yellow Tigris. All the life of the East—vivid, passionate,
fantastic, poetic—lives in these entrancing pages, and the reader who
knows them, and knows them well, knows more about oriental life and
oriental thought than many who have passed half their lives in Cairo or
Bagdad.
MORNING POST, _February 14th, 1886_.
In the volume under notice are comprised the tales from the 78th to the
275th night inclusive. They are remarkable for their originality and
poetic sentiment, and the spirit of chivalry which animates the heroes.
The tales of birds and beasts are fables containing a wholesome moral.
MORNING ADVERTISER, _February 26th, 1887_.
The poetic imagery of the Arabic masterpiece is presented in all its
naive and native charm, almost as far as such a thing is possible, when
we remember the immense gulf which sunders the ideas and tongues of the
Orients from our own mental methods and modes of speech. The use of
rhymed prose by the translator is most judicious, and enhances the
impression produced by the Arabic simile and metaphor, as in the
following, where Sulayman Shah prepares to send forth his Wazir to sue
for the hand of the daughter of Zahr Shah:—“Then he hied to his own
house and bade make ready presents befitting Kings, of precious stones
and things of price, and other matters light of load but weighty of
worth, besides Arab steeds and coats of mail, such as David made, and
chests of treasure for which speech hath no measure.” Again we find the
same use of rhyme in the Wazir’s mention to the celibate King of the
charms of the Princess:—“Know, O King, it hath come to my knowledge that
King Zahr Shah, Lord of the White Land, hath a daughter of surpassing
loveliness, whose charms talk and tale fail to express. She hath not her
equal in this age, for she is perfect in proportion and symmetry,
blackeyed as if kohl-dyed and long-locked, wee of waist and full of
form.” The couplets in which many of the characters after composing
their minds unbind their tongues puts the resources of the Queen’s
English to some strain. Here is a specimen of how the emissary of
Sulayman Shah “displayed the oratory of Wazirs and saluted the King in
the language of eloquence.” When it is remembered, however, that the
Arabic verse is improvised, we can afford to be charitable to the not
unsuccessful effort of the translator, who has no small difficulties to
cope with. It runs as follows:—
He cometh robed and bending gracefully:
O’er face and figure dews of grace sheds he:
He charms: nor characts, spells, nor grammarye
May fend the glances of those eyne from thee.
O heart! th’ art not the sole that loveth him,
So live with him while I desertion dree.
There’s naught to joy mine eyes with joyous sound
Save praise of King Zahr Shah in jubilee:
A King! albeit thou leave thy life to win
One look, that look were all sufficiency;
And if a pious prayer thou breathe for him,
Shall join all faithful in such pious gree:
Folk of his realm! If any shirk his right for other hoping, gross
unfaith I see.
Still, though the English is a little quaint, and every period in the
history of the language is laid under contribution to supply material of
verbiage, this very circumstance heightens the effect upon the mind of
the reader of the strange scenery, the bizarre situation, and the
eccentricity—according to our notions—of the characters? * * * Men who
as children have revelled in this narrative of wonders, and then
accepted them with implicit and ingenuous trust, will return to it again
to find light shed on the customs and manners of the East. The very
instructive notes elucidate the text, and so the reader may, as he
peruses, not only discover delight for his fancy, but gain information
about the social life of lands which, though the Western world has
varied and altered over and over again, have for ages remained in their
main social features unchanged so much so as to lead many observers to
regard them as unchangeable. Down at the bottom of all we read, however,
the great truth that human nature is much the same all the world over,
and in all ages, in its joys and griefs, its gratifications and its
heartburnings.
ARMY AND NAVY GAZETTE, _February 26th, 1887_.
Sir Richard Burton was a bold man when he wrote, and the Kamashastra
Society of Benares was a bold society when it printed his great
translation of the _Arabian Nights_. Yet the boldness of both has been
amply justified, for never before was the golden prime of the Caliphs of
Baghdad, with all its Oriental colour, brought so vividly before the
reading public. Nor could any demur be made justly to the book, as the
issue of a private press, because of the indelicacy, not to say
pruriency, that characterised it, since it is plainly inconsistent to
judge the morals of one age by the standard of another, and this
translation of “The Thousand Nights and a Night” was intended not only
to make accessible the great work of Arabian fiction, but also to
illustrate the social conditions of those for whom it was composed. It
must be remembered, moreover, that in these days refinement has
progressed so rapidly that the books even which delighted our
grandmothers have become too indelicate for the family circle; and, if
we go on in the same direction, it is certain that ere long Swinburne
will be Bowdlerised, and fifty years hence who can say that the Laureate
himself will escape? There could have been no more fitting translator
for the _Arabian Nights_ than Sir Richard Burton, who is as much at home
in Eastern bazaars as the very disciples of the Prophet, who has himself
made the pilgrimage to Al-Medinah and to Meccah, and who, as the result
of a vast experience of all phases of Oriental life, has been able to
enter into the very spirit of the wondrous Arab tales. In comparing his
work with that of his best predecessors, in the translation, Mr. John
Payne and Mr. E. W. Lane, becomes speedily apparent that the former was
weak as a linguist, while the latter driven thereto by the necessity of
making a book for the family circle, used his pruning-knife much too
freely, and cut out some of the very best pieces—notably, the major part
of the excellent story, which is of great length, of King Omar bin
al-Nu’uman and his Sons, whereof he has preserved but two small
episodes. Another great advantage which Sir Richard Burton possesses
over other translators is his exquisite sense of the delicate beauty of
Arabic poetry, which has enabled him to preserve in his graceful
rendering of the many verses scattered through the stories, much of the
character of Oriental assonance and rhythm. We take an example, almost
at random, from the first volume:—
“Shall the beautiful hue of the Basil fail,
Tho’ the beetle’s foot over the Basil crawl?
And though spider and fly be its denizens,
Shall disgrace attach to the royal hall?
The cowrie, I ken, shall have currency,
But the pearl’s clear drop,—shall its value fall?”
FUN, _March 2nd, 1887_.
We readily repeat our expression of the high estimation in which we hold
the superiority of this translation over all others. Many stories are
included which have hitherto been left untold.
BOOKSELLER, _March 4th, 1887_.
The progress of this charming work continues apace, in the appearance of
a further volume going down to the “Five Hundred and Fifty-Seventh
Night” of Shahrazad’s world-famous tales. Within the limits of the new
instalment will be found several old favourites, such as Harun Al-Rashid
and the Slave Girl, The Ebony (Flying) Horse, and The Voyages of Sindbad
the Sailor. Sir Richard Burton’s notes which liberally accompany the
text, are by no means the least entertaining portion of the book,
leading, as they do, to many suggestive comparisons with Scriptural and
mythological analogies, and to points of etymology as curious as they
are instructive. The story of the “Death-Angel and the Rich King,” by
the way, is so closely akin to the Parables of the Rich Fool and the
Unjust Steward of the Gospels, that it is difficult to believe that they
did not serve as the original of the Arabian counterpart.
ALLEN’S INDIAN MAIL, _March 7th, 1887_.
On reading the first volume again and again the reflection occurred, how
little—how very little—the general public know, as to the tales of which
the name is familiar in every circle of society. Still more does this
fact force itself into notice in the second volume. Not a story do we
meet which bears a name linked with the memoirs of youth or the
recollections of early age. What is the explanation? Are all the tales,
which for generation after generation, have played their part in the
nursery, merely idle dreams of a fanciful edition of the _Thousand and
One Nights_ or are the well-known stories reserved for the last? We
cannot say: but we avow with some trepidation, that we have not hitherto
met with a single friendly face amongst the two hundred and fifty
divisions as yet presented to the public.
If, however, we have expected against expectation for some landmark to
show us the road whereon we are travelling, it must notwithstanding, be
avowed that in the present continuation of the tales there is much to
interest, and perhaps more to instruct. Apart from this, there is such
vast array of wisdom contained in this storehouse of experience and
knowledge that the world should be wise, and, therefore, happier in
learning what dangers to avoid, what virtues to cultivate, what vices to
eradicate. Then, too, as regards the notes by Sir Richard Burton. It
would be impossible to exaggerate their worth, their depth, or the
insight that they afford into the inner life of the Arabian natives, a
life of which so little is known, though so much is talked—a life which
has much to recommend it—albeit Exeter Hall is loud in its dispraise,
and the advocates of women’s rights are passionate in denunciation
thereof. Like all other nations the people of the East have their
faults, but who are they which presume to cast the first stone?
LUNES, _January 3rd, 1887_.
Few people know anything of the trouble and the travelling which Sir
Richard Burton has undertaken in the accomplishment of his tremendous
task. He has ransacked all the libraries of the East and West, and has
often undertaken a roving but idle quest in the hope of throwing clearer
light on a single disputed passage. His profound acquaintance with
Oriental languages and literature is shown at every turn, and,
preserving the romantic colouring of the original in a poetic rhythm of
expression, he has cast his finished version in a form which is
singularly picturesque.
ALLEN’S INDIAN MAIL, _January 17th, 1887_.
The reason is not far to seek, since there never has been a really good
translation of this most untranslateable of Oriental works. From such a
sweeping assertion must be excluded the happy and successful effort of
Mr. John Payne; but this latter work was printed for the Villon Society,
and the issue being restricted to five hundred copies, while the author
bound himself “not to reproduce the work in its complete form,” the
version is and must ever be “caviare to the general.” Such being the
case Sir Richard Burton bethought himself that he would employ his
leisure hours in presenting to the public a trustworthy and withal
picturesque translation of the _Thousand and One Nights_: and who more
fitted for such task? * * * * We have no hesitation in pronouncing the
present version of the _Arabian Nights_ to be incontestably the best
extant. Perfection is not given to mortals, but the tales now appear in
as satisfactory a garb as is possible; and henceforth there will be no
excuse should the English public fail to become familiar with a work
which all should read—the time-honoured _Thousand and One Nights_.
LIVERPOOL MERCURY, _March 26th, 1887_.
We have read with mingled admiration and delight every line of Sir
Richard Burton’s wonderful rendering of the world-famous but never till
now adequately translated _Thousand Nights and a Night_. * * * * At the
same time, in any literal reproduction of the ancient folk-stories of a
race having different customs and modes of thought to our own there must
necessarily be passages which are unsuited to modern English
tastes. * * * The first writer who undertook to introduce the Nights to
Europe was M. Galland, a Frenchman who made Arabic his study, and
travelled not a little in the Eastern countries which border on the
Mediterranean close upon two centuries ago. What he did, however, was
not to translate the entire work, or even one-half of it, but to
paraphrase certain selections from it, to add other stories of Eastern
origin thereto, and to dress up the whole in a composite literary style
which reflected the French tastes of the time far more accurately than
those of the Arab tribes from whose romantic folk-lore he drew his
inspiration. Other labourers in the same field—and there have been
many—have but too faithfully followed upon the lines laid down by M.
Galland. Until quite lately the best European paraphrase of the _Nights_
was that of the late distinguished Orientalist, Lane; but even he took
an abbreviated edition of the original as his standard, and, while
omitting at least one-third of the stories which it contained, failed
altogether to reproduce the distinctive characteristics of the
remainder.
This being so, Captain Sir Richard Burton, in the interests of Oriental
scholarship—which he rightly judges to be nowhere more important than
among a people who have so vast an Eastern empire to govern and
safeguard as we have—has for years past been engaged upon a literal
translation of the _Nights_ which should be worthy at once of the
original sources from which it was taken and of his own hard-earned
reputation. At the very time that he was putting the finishing touches
to his work and preparing for publication, however, he learnt by
accident that Mr. John Payne had undertaken for the Villon Society a
precisely similar task. Upon that Sir Richard, with characteristic
chivalry, stood aside, and allowed Mr. Payne to have the advantage of
prior publication; we mean, of course, such publication as he himself
contemplated and the Villon Society contents itself with—the issue, that
is, of a strictly limited number of copies supplied to subscribers only.
Of his rival’s translation Sir Richard Burton, with the enthusiasm of a
true scholar, says, “It is most readable; his (Mr. Payne’s) English,
with a sub-flavour of Mabinogionic archaism, is admirable, and his style
gives life and light to the nine volumes whose matter is frequently
heavy enough; he succeeds admirably in the most difficult passages, and
he often hits upon choice and special terms and the exact vernacular
equivalent of the foreign word, so happily and so picturesquely that all
future translators must perforce use the same expression under pain of
falling far short.” Nevertheless, though coming four or five years
afterwards, Sir Richard’s own edition fairly takes the field, and is
likely, we should say, to hold it permanently against all future comers.
The notes alone carry it to a point of perfection hitherto unattained.
It is the work of a man better qualified for the task than any other
living being. On the one hand, we know of no one who is so thoroughly
imbued with the spirit and soaked in the traditions of Arab life as the
traveller who, disguised as an Arab, succeeded in making the pilgrimage
to Mecca without detection; on the other, we know of no translator who
has at his command such an amazing vocabulary of English words wherewith
to reflect every shade of meaning, every turn of phrase, every subtile
touch of literary colour in the language from which he translates. As
illustrating his mastery of the secrets both of Arab life and of
picturesque English, take the following passage from his “Foreword.” He
is speaking of the solace and satisfaction which he derived from working
upon his translation of the _Nights_ during his long years of official
banishment to the luxuriant and deadly deserts of Western Africa, and to
the dull and dreary half-clearings of South America.
“From my commonplace and ‘respectable’ surroundings (he says) the Jinn
bore me at once to the land of my predilection, Arabia—a region so
familiar to my mind that even at first sight it seemed a reminiscence of
some bygone metemphysic life in the distant past. Again I stood under
the diaphanous skies in air glorious as ether, whose every breath raises
men’s spirits like sparkling wine. Once more I saw the evening star
hanging like a solitaire from the pure front of the western firmament;
and the after-glow transfiguring and transforming, as if by magic, the
homely and rugged features of the scene into a fairy-land, lit with a
light which never shines on other soils or seas. Then would appear the
woollen tents, low and black, of the true Bedawin, mere dots in the
boundless waste of lion-tawny clays and gazelle-brown gravels, and the
camp fire dotting like a glowworm the village centre. Presently,
sweetened by distance, would be heard the wild weird song of lads and
lasses, driving, or rather pelting, through the gloaming their sheep and
goats; and the measured chant of the spearmen gravely stalking behind
their charge, the camels; mingled with the bleating of the flocks and
the bellowing of the humpy herds; while the reremouse flitted overhead
with his tiny shriek, and the rave of the jackal resounded through
deepening glooms, and—most musical of music—the palm-trees answered the
whispers of the night-breeze with the softest tones of falling water.
And then a shift of scene. The Shaykhs and ‘White-beards’ of the tribe
gravely take their places, sitting with outspread skirts like hillocks
on the plain, as the Arabs say, around the camp-fire, whilst I reward
their hospitality and secure its continuance by reading or reciting a
few pages of their favourite tales. The women and children stand
motionless as silhouettes outside the ring, and all are breathless with
attention; they seem to drink in the words with eyes and mouths as well
as with ears. The most fantastic lights of fancy, the wildest
improbabilities, the most impossible of impossibilities, appear to them
utterly natural—mere matters of every-day occurrence. They enter
thoroughly into each phase of feeling touched upon by the author; they
take a personal pride in the chivalrous nature and knightly prowess of
Taj al-Mulúk; they are touched with tenderness by the self-sacrificing
love of Azizah; their mouths water as they hear of heaps of untold gold
given away in largesse like clay; they chuckle with delight every time a
Kázir or a Fakír—a judge or a reverend—is scurvily entreated by some
Pantagruelist of the Wilderness; and, despite their normal solemnity and
impassibility, all roar with laughter, sometimes rolling upon the ground
till the reader’s gravity is sorely tried, at the tales of the garrulous
Barber and of Ali and the Kurdish sharper.”