Most of the popular legends and fairy tales which have been
traditionally preserved are of high origin. Many of those which appear
to have originated during the Christian era are only modifications of
older ones dating from heathen times. Thus, we find the Virgin Mary in a
legend substituted for a pagan goddess, and one or other Saint for a
pagan god. Sometimes a remarkable incident, recorded in ancient history,
is related as having occurred at a much more recent time. Perhaps it
may have happened again, but in many cases the old tradition has,
undoubtedly, been borrowed by one nation from another, and has been
adapted to circumstances which favoured its adaptation.
In the musical records of the Arabs mention is made of the wonderful
accomplishments of a celebrated musician, whose name was Al-Farabi, and
who acquired his proficiency in Spain, in one of the schools at Cordova,
which flourished as early as towards the end of the ninth century. The
reputation of Al-Farabi became so great, that ultimately it extended to
Asia. The mighty Caliph of Bagdad himself desired to hear the celebrated
musician, and sent messengers to Spain with instructions to offer rich
presents to Al-Farabi, and to convey him to the Caliph's court; but the
musician feared that if he went he should be detained in Asia, and
should never again see his home, to which he felt deeply attached.
However, at last he resolved to disguise himself, and to undertake the
journey, which promised him a rich harvest. Dressed in a mean costume he
made, unrecognized, his appearance at the court just at the time when
the mighty Caliph was being entertained with his daily concert.
Al-Farabi, unknown to everyone present, was permitted to exhibit his
skill. He sang, accompanying himself on the lute. Scarcely had he
commenced his performance in a certain musical mode when he set all his
audience laughing aloud, notwithstanding the efforts of the courtiers to
suppress so unbecoming an exhibition of mirth in the presence of the
mighty Caliph. In truth, even the mighty Caliph himself was compelled to
burst out into a fit of laughter. Presently, Al-Farabi changed to
another mode, and the effect was that immediately all his hearers began
to sigh, and soon tears of sadness replaced the previous tears of mirth.
Again he sang and played in another mode, which excited his audience to
such a rage that they would have fought each other if he, seeing the
danger, had not directly gone over to an appeasing mode. After this
wonderful exhibition of his skill, he concluded in a mode which had the
extraordinary effect of making his listeners fall into a profound sleep,
during which Al-Farabi took his departure.
It will be seen that this incident is almost identical with one recorded
as having happened about twelve hundred years earlier at the court of
Alexander the Great, and which forms the subject of Dryden's fine poem,
'Alexander's Feast.' The distinguished flutist, Timotheus, playing
before Alexander, successively aroused and subdued different passions by
changing the musical modes during the performance, exactly in the same
way as did Al-Farabi more than a thousand years later.